lightsaber tightly in his hands. Deliberately stretching her defenses, he
attempted to penetrate her confidence.
"Fable?"
Fable heard the soft-spoken voice from the past, and without turning
toward the shadowy image on the edge other peripheral vision, she knew the
illusion to be Are celis. The image waved and laughed, sounding intimately
like her dead friend. "No," Fable whispered, "no, I don't think so, Vialco. I
saw what you did to him. I saw it!" she seethed. The tip of her lightsaber
sliced easily through the shoulder of his cloak. "And that was your first
mistake."
"And my second?"
"Letting me live to remember it!" She lunged savagely at him, knocking
Vialco against the tomb of Brandl's wife. Breaking off the assault, she
somersaulted back down into the depression. Disengaging her lightsaber, she
stood there defiantly. "Shall I play with you like you played with him?"
"Wretched girl!" Vialco hissed, spittle flying from the corners of his
mouth. "If you will not be turned, you will die!" Summoning the corrupt powers
of the dark side, Vialco felt the energy coursing through him. He extended his
arms, curling his fingertips as the first tendrils of lightning surged from
his hands.
Fable flinched, awkwardly balanced as she tried to back away. The arc of
lightning shot through her, ripping into her flesh. Screaming in pain, she
dropped to the ground, curling into a fetal ball as the agony washed through
her. Before she could collect herself, a second and third blow left her
tortured body temporarily paralyzed.
"Have we come so far to fall so low?" Vialco taunted. "Tsk, tsk, what a
pity," he smacked his thin lips.
Reeling with the corrupt power surge. Fable jumped to her feet. As Vialco
took aim, she somersaulted, voicing a shrill squeal of effort as the pulse of
electricity cuffed her shoulder. Wielding the lightsaber in both hands, she
began the subtle movements of the first cadence. As each tendril of lightning
arced at her, she swept the blade of the lightsaber across it, effectively
deflecting it. She imagined that each arc was a new series of lines. Each
point was the metal reflection of a ball bearing, the shiny wick of a candle.
Twenty, thirty... she lost count of the number of successful deflections.
Even as the crescent of lightning arced behind her, slipping in above her
head, she simply brought the lightsaber over her shoulder into xs path. Never
turning to look, her body reacted as her eyes designed the next path.
Fable fought her way to the top of the mound. Knocking Viaico from his
feet, she pushed him down into the depression. She watched in horror as the
tendrils of lightning rebelled against their master, burning through his
clothing and flesh. He lurched for his lightsaber and fumbled, knocking the
weapon out of reach. "Have we come so far to lie so low?" Fable mocked. She
slid down the face of the mound, raising her lightsaber to finish him.
Viaico cowered below her, writhing in the mud. Something in his groveling
manner made Fable hesitate, dropping her arms to chest height, as the
lightsaber hummed insistently in her hands.
"Will you give him the chance to betray you again?" Keeping her eyes on
Viaico, Fable felt the dark presence of her master. "Kill him and be done with
it," Brandl whispered. "Only then will you know that the nightmare is over."
Fable disengaged the lightsaber and turned to her Jedi mentor. "It is
over. Why kill him?"
"Remember what he is and what he has done. He will betray your dreams, as
he has done before, and use them to his advantage. End the nightmare. Fable.
Kill him."
Fable heard the pulse of the lightsaber before she saw it. Wondering how
Viaico had gotten hold of his weapon without her sensing it, she whirled,
igniting her lightsaber. Viaico arced his blade toward her vulnerable legs. In
a wild strike, she severed his head from the shoulders, never losing momentum.
But as he fell, she clearly saw his empty hands. The lightsaber was still on
the ground, several meters from his body.
"Who's tricking who?" Fable hissed, enraged by Brandl's careful deceit.
Dominating and powerful, he knocked Fable off of her feet and drove her back
into the opposite mound. "You lied to me!" she gasped, weakly rubbing her
bruised cheek. "What have you done?"
"I have set your place at the Emperor's table," Brandl replied. "Soon, I
shall again stand at my master's side and you shall stand beside me." He
glared down at her, mocking the injury in her eyes. "You knew there would be a
price."
"What price?"
Brandl smiled, posing arrogantly for his small audience. Offering his
hand, he whispered, "Worship me and call me master and all that I have shall
be yours, including Jaalib's affections. There's no use fighting it, Fable.
Accept and you will be well cared for, this I promise you." Brandl turned to
leave. "Don't bother running to your ship. Thermal detonators are rather
effective tools." Gently caressing the scars at his temple, he chuckled, "I
should know."
Locked in her room. Fable rocked quietly from side to side, wiping tears
on her sleeve. Her fingers were blood covered and black with grime, the nails
shredded from a recent tantrum at the site of her X-wing. In an attempt to
avoid her impending fate, she had fled to the vessel and found the gutted
remains of her starfighter in a blackened blast diameter. Only the central
frame of the X-wing had survived the initial blast. Vialco's shuttle was also
consumed by the explosion, strewn across a sunken depression of scorched
earth. Cursing Brandl, she rocked faster and harder, desperate to find some
way to escape him.
The door opened slowly, a small crack that grew larger as the hunched
figure skulked into the room. Fable's eyes brightened immediately, recognizing
the face. "Jaalib," she whispered, swept into his arms. "Your father's-was
"Shh, I know," he hushed. Sitting down on the bed beside her, he gently
pulled her trembling body against him. "I just happened to go over my ship's
backup logs and discovered my father's side trip to Byss."
"Byss?"
"The Emperor's pleasure world. I hurried back as soon as I could and
found what was left of your X-wing. Wasn't hard to figure out the next scene."
He picked up a small satchel of her things and threw it over his shoulders.
"What are you doing?"
"You're leaving," he replied curtly. "Don't talk. Don't think. Don't even
breathe heavy or he'll find us."
"He'll know eventually, as soon as we step outside this theater."
"And that doesn't give us much time," he argued. "So just run."
Following the trail out of the settlement, Jaalib jogged toward the
mountain range, using the jutting lip of the Khoehng Heights as a guide
beneath the moonlit skies of Trulalis. Fable matched his earnest strides and
together they ran the short kilometer to the wheat field, where a familiar
ship was waiting for them.
"The ProdigalVery she screamed. "Deke!"
&nb
sp; "Heard you got yourself in a spot of trouble," the So corran grumbled
with relief. "Didn't think I'd let you go down alone, did you?" Hearing a
proximity alarm from within the ship, Deke nodded to Jaalib. "I set the
sensors just like you said." He eyed his ship dubiously. "Something or
somebody just tripped the perimeter sensor."
"It's him," Fable trembled, casting her gaze to the far off theater
steeple.
"Then you had better goes?" Jaalib whispered.
"What about you?" Fable protested. "Come with us."
"He's my father. Fable. It's not that easy."
"And you call this easy?" she croaked, tears in her voice. Seeing the
denial in his eyes, Fable pleaded, "Jaalib-"
Cutting off her objections with a kiss, Jaalib gently crowded her toward
the ship. "For once in your life, listen, and go before he gets here."
"But-"
the Emperor!"
"He's right, Capt'n," Deke insisted. "Time to bail."
Desperately appealing to her defiant eyes, Jaalib grinned, anxious to
subdue her temper. "I was born to play this role, remember? I am the Edjian-
Prince." Swallowing his sorrow, he embraced her warmly. "It's the last act,
Fable. I have to burn the forest down now."
"Then burn it," she sobbed, cradling her head against his shoulder.
"I can't. Not while you're still here."
Fable stumbled up the ramp and cued the hatch controls. Leaning heavily
on the secured door, she wiped absently at a tear, sensing the warmth of
Jaalib's touch on her cheek.
Shielding his eyes from the freighter's exhaust, Jaalib stepped back into
the swaying fields of wheat. Engines glowing red with the strain of sudden
acceleration, the Prodigal banked sharply against the foot of the mountains,
carrying Fable away. Lightning signaled her departure, bringing on a deluge of
cold, cold rain. Jaalib took a deep breath, bracing himself for the wrath of
the brooding presence slowly moving up behind him.
Brandl briefly glanced up, searching for some signs of Fable-his
squandered prize. There were none and his austere gaze fell heavily on Jaalib.
"Arrogant, deceitful child," he snarled.
Feeling the subtle constriction of his throat, Jaalib resisted panic as
his windpipe contracted, seized by invisible fingers. "No less arrogant than
my father," he rasped. Desperate for air, he dropped to his knees, slowly
losing consciousness as the grip tightened about his throat. His father
abruptly released him and the cool, damp air flowed into his body.
Staring after the retreating figure of his father, Jaalib staggered
precariously. Compelled to follow, he screamed, "Long... live... the king!"
***
The last hand
by Paul Danner
Sabacc!"
Doune's resounding laughter echoed through the gambling hall, the
Herglic's huge body shaking with the effort. "You lose again, boy."
Vee-Six, Doune's droid, quickly calculated his master's winnings and
enthusiastically reported the total for all to hear.
The gathered crowd cheered as the Herglic claimed the pot, leaving Nyo
with a single credit to his name.
The young man lowered his head in disbelief, fighting back tears. How
could I have been so stupid? Nyo thought as he stared at the lone cred chip
that constituted all the money he had in the galaxy. Now, all hope was gone.
"Doune... the great gambler. Able to steal the money from a poor farmboy
with ease. I suppose you are equally skilled at firing your heavy blaster on
unarmed opponents."
The bold words silenced the room.
The Herglic looked up in shock, searching the sycophantic circle of
admirers who always clung to winners for the dissonant voice.
The spectators parted for the cloaked figure as if he were a thermal
detonator. A large hood kept the stranger's face in shadow, but the dark
visage was obviously focused on the Herglic.
"You think you could do better, friend?" Doune asked, a dangerous edge in
his deep voice.
The figure gestured to the crowd. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you in
front of all your... friends."
"I never turn away anyone so obviously willing to lose his money to me,"
Doune chuckled. "Sit down."
The stranger paused for a moment, then slid into the empty seat. "Very
well. I must warn you, though..."
The Herglic cocked an eyebrow. "Wait, don't tell me. Let me guess." Doune
gestured dramatically. "You're the greatest gambler who ever lived, right?"
"Actually, I was just going to say that I don't have any money on me, but
now that you mention it..." The stranger lowered his hood, eliciting a
collective gasp from the spectators. "I am."
The stranger's close-cropped hair was white, though streaks of silver
snaked their way through the ivory. His eyes were pale violet, like tropical
flowers that had withered and lost their luster. A jagged scar wound its way
around his lip, cutting an unnatural line up past his nose. With stony
features reminiscent of a royal statue, the man was undeniably handsome;
however, that wasn't the reason for the crowd's reaction.
The whispers had begun, and the buzzing made it seem as if a colony of
insects had descended upon the room. Throughout the snatches of conversation
in the multitude of languages, two words were repeated with frightening
frequency.
Kinnin VoShay.
Doune's thick flesh had begun to mottle, a sure sign the Herglic was
agitated.
"This is nothing but a trick, Master." Vee-Six leaned forward, eyes
flashing as his databanks began recalling information. "The Ashanda Ray was
reported lost in the Tyus cluster half a century ago. If Kinnin Vo-Shay. had
survived, which is highly unlikely, he would be well over one hundred standard
years old. The man was lucky, but he was no Jedi."
"It would seem you are not who you appear to be, after all." Doune seemed
to calm down a bit, his usual predatory smirk returning to his face. "I must
admit, though, the resemblance is uncanny. You must have paid a fortune on
cosmetic alterations. No wonder you're broke."
A nervous chuckle escaped the crowd.
"For such a renowned gambler, Doune, you're a much faster dealer of
opinions than cards." The stranger leveled his piercing gaze. "Perhaps you win
by talking until your opponents die of sheer boredom."
"The one thing I never deal in is charity," the Herglic said, a note of
irritation creeping into his voice. "Until you ante up, there will be no game.
"
That drew a mixed reaction from the crowd. Many wanted to see if the
stranger really was telling the truth, and there was only one way to decide
that....
"But, Doune, what if he really is Vo-Shay?" one brave soul asked.
The Herglic had had enough, and his blubber shook with fury. "I don't
care if he's Jabba the Hutt. Without money, he doesn't play!"
A single credit spun through the air, shimmering in the dim glowlights.
Without blinking, Vo-Shay plucked the cred from its flight with practiced
ease. He slowly turned to face hi
s surprise benefactor.
Nyo started to say something, but Vo-Shay offered a wink that was so
quick the young man was scarcely sure he saw it at all.
"From one loser to another... how appropriate. Are you ready, then?"
Doune demanded.
Vo-Shay's face lost all expression, resembling a droid that had been
abruptly powered down. Those strange eyes took on a faraway look, as if they
were staring into eternity. He spoke only a single word, but it sent a chill
down the spine of every being present who had one.
"Deal," Vo-Shay said.
The room grew deathly quiet.
And the game began....
Doune slid a blubbery fin across his forehead, which was glistening with
perspiration. The Herglic examined his cards and grunted softly. His pile of
credits was steadily decreasing, while Vo-Shay's lone credit had gained
thousands of friends in less than an hour. He glanced up at his opponent, but
the human gambler's face may as well have been carved out of ferrostone.
Only Vo-Shay's right hand was in motion, absently twirling the obsidian
stone pendant hanging from his neck. When he had first removed the bauble from
underneath his shirt, a collective gasp resounded from the crowd. The necklace