Summary/Info: Summary: A shadowy soul with the form of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn has taken to hunting the galaxy for blood ... and is pursued by one pure of heart, out of the Jedi Temple.
Disclaimers: The SW galaxy is the esteemed Mr. Lucas's, and the original Qui-Gon was his. Also, I blatantly stole and reworked Sharra's original fic, "Right Hand of Darkness," to create this one. The Dark Master is her character, as much as he really belongs to anyone ... ;)
Notes: a) Tal-Lié in this fic is neither a version of me that ever existed nor the Brightstar flavor version that was RPed with the RHoD harem once upon a time, but is somewhere in between. b) In case anyone ants to read it, the original fic is posted only in the QGJDL archives as far as I know.
Enjoy!
Tal-Lié paused in darkness as the moon slipped behind a veil of clouds, joining its starry brethren, all light banished. She breathed deeply, as she had been taught; momentarily, she moved on without the aid of her eyes. There was only darkness to show her the way -- darkness and the Force, which illumined the pathway for her as brightly as the double suns of Tatooine might have. The man she sought remained elusive, an invisible presence but for the ripples in the Force which he sent out as inevitably as any piece of the galaxy. She knew he could sense her, too. She counted on it.
This hunt had begun, it seemed, only a day ago, or perhaps two days ago at the most; so her patience told her, in that it was not yet exhausted. She knew somewhere in her mind that it had gone on much longer, and knew also that a dark curiosity drew her on as much as some strange loyalty to a man she did not know, who did not know her. The quest might have gone on longer, and she would not have faltered or fallen away. She had lost the trail several times already on this hunt, and always when she had been uncertain of how to proceed, the Force had guided her to a new discovery, a new trace, and again she was off on the scent. She had not expected tonight to be the night of confrontation, at least no more than she had expected of any other night, but there was something different in the way he stalked ahead of her. He allowed her to come closer before suddenly slipping away again, tantalizing, teasing. He had always toyed with her, but tonight, she thought, he sought to bring her hopes up, that she might rush forward in blind excitement. She thought that perhaps he would turn and meet her under this clouded moon, and not another.
Moonlight shafted out between the ragged edges of the clouds, making an illusion of clarity out of murk and midnight. She could see, with her eyes now, that the smooth, leafless boles of massive trees rose to either side of her, entwined inseperably with the crouched forms of lesser foliage. These still bore some leaves to reflect pallid light onto the path, washing out shadows and substance alike, so that she walked through a world of mercury and mist. Her footsteps wanted to quicken at the imagined encouragement -- her quarry was not far ahead -- but she checked her eagerness and maintained her steady pace. She would allow no emotion to cloud her judgement. Above her head and through the branches, the wind spoke with two voices, one moaning pitifully to the fear she would not let herself feel, and the other whispering warnings to her wariness.
She slowed as she approached a clearing; there was no movement visible ahead, but instinct prompted her to caution. The presence remained unwaveringly firm in her mind, just ahead, but he might be concealed and awaiting ambush or simply just out of sight beyond the line of trees that crowded in on the path here. The Force silenced her footsteps as she crept to the edge of the path.
Here she discovered that the clearing suddenly opened out to all sides, affording a deceptively open view of the flat, treeless area. If he was on guard, and she knew he was, he would have instantly pinpointed her. While she should have been able to find him as easily, had they been on equal footing, she knew they were not. He was a creature of shadow, and she of light. Here, his powers waxed greater than hers. She stepped out into the center of the clearing, feeling the unseen presence strongly. He watched.
She turned slightly as she moved, so that her eyes swept over the entirety of the clearing. The only revelation that came to her was that the path she had just left was the only way into, and out of, the clearing; on all sides except for at that tiny gap, the trees had grown so near each other that only night could pass that way. As if triggered by her thoughts, the moon plunged behind a deep bank of clouds. Night swallowed her.
At the same time, as if the snuffing of light had snuffed it, too, the presence vanished. There was no rustle as of wind or night-creature's natural wakefulness. There was silence.
Something cold rose into her heart; flames of ice sparked there, tried to freeze her blood. She was wide open to the Force, and yet she sensed nothing. The ripples of her quarry's existence had faded into the flow of ebbing life and gone completely, taking, it seemed, the rest of the world with it. It should not have been possible.
Just as suddenly, the presence reappeared -- a singularly dark identity like night personified, vibrantly splendid, unavoidable. She was aware that she spun, of her lightsabre burning blue in her hands, but most of all of him. He was there; at last the hunt was done.
The bright blade shed a minimum of light, economical as ever. In the intensity of the darkness that surrounded them, however, the sabre's light seemed to be that of the sun. The void of space pressed in tightly about the single star-beam, but it struggled valiantly, enough for some small victory. It showed her his face, and his form.
Not three meters from the sabre-tip stood what might have been a man. He was tall, and broad-shouldered. He would have towered over her, but the way he held himself made it plain that he found such a thing utterly unnecessary. His long hair he wore pulled back to reveal the planes and angles of a strong-featured face, and the gray threads winding through it gleamed dull silver in the blue light. His eyes remained deep in shadow beneath a heavy brow, but she could feel them, powerful, on not the weapon she held before her, but on her face.
"Kuang-Shi." She was surprised to hear herself speak first. It was not a name she had spoken aloud often since the hunt had begun; the name was far too dangerous to those who would recognize it.
"You seek me. Why?" His voice was low, resonant with a dark power beyond her experience.
It unnerved her. She was serenity on the outside, her grip on the cool silver lightsabre steady, but inside, the tiniest uncertainty took hold and began to shake her foundations. She had faced this man thousands of times before, in her dreams, in her mind's eye, but then he had been without substance, indefinite, vague as a nightmare at morning's light. She had let herself believe she might be ready, but she had never felt as raw a power as that which he effortlessly wielded. Now, she lived the nightmare; dreams had taken tangible form. And in all her imaginings she had never seen the face of this man, this monster which she hunted. She found it was a face which had once been gentle. She could still read in it remnants of kindness and of unbiased love ... How could the sun be so entirely eclipsed? How could a Jedi Master fall to this?
Again the moon escaped its cloudy prison. Cool light brushed her face, recalled her to her own light. Hesitation evaporated.
"I am a seeker." It was an answer she had rehearsed countless times. It was the truth.
Kuang-Shi was still, still as no human could ever be, only the waves of the Dark Force moving around him. The hum of Tal-Lié's lightsabre filled the silence like impatience itself.
When at last he spoke, his tone was unimpressed, almost bored. "Why should this concern me?"
"Only because I know who you once were. I know something of what you are." I would know more.
He lifted an eyebrow, the movement barely perceptible in the play of light and shadow on his face. "Do you indeed?"
She nodded. Determination returned, hand in hand with self-assurance. She knew her part now. "Once, you were a great Jedi Master. A renegade. A wanderer. You had an apprentice," and one whose name she remembered well, though she would not speak it in this time and place, "a Padawan. You fell from the Light; you were banished. No one knows why." Something nibbled at the edges of her mind, something at once colder than deep space and fiery as the molten cores of the stars themselves. Something powerful; he sought to read her thoughts. "You were Qui-Gon Jinn."
Stillness again, during which she realized she still held her lightsabre outstretched before her, in guard stance. "So you know my true name," he replied, his voice smooth. "But you haven't told me what it is that you think I am." He had stepped further into the weak nimbus created by her lightsabre. Its reflection glittered in his ice-blue eyes.
"I don't know," she answered simply, and into the silence that stretched, she added, "There are some who name you Sith."
He laughed, then, a low, mocking sound, like the purr of some great hunting animal nearing cornered prey. "Is that what I am?"
"Are you?" she asked.
The laughter faded. Kuang-Shi seemed to grow pensive, and folded his arms into his robe, the cloth colorless in the darkness. "What is it, exactly, that you want from me," he asked in return. Tal-Lié heard the edge to the almost-question. The game was over.
"I want to know the truth," she said. And she waited.
The silence swelled this time, grew to almost unbearable proportions. It seemed to loom over her, though Kuang-Shi was unmoving as the grave, secure in his reign over the powers of the night. Her ears amplified the buzz of the lightsabre to the crazed wingbeats of a hundred giant mechanical insects, creatures so vast that they could not be distinguished from the void around them...
"Indeed?" The single word, one breath like a long, slow hiss, reduced the lightsabre's buzz to normal levels. Kuang-Shi's eyes seemed to glow with anticipation -- soon he would spring, hunter to prey. Tal-Lié's breathing came slowly, deeply. She did not move.
Abruptly, the chilling mind-touch returned a thousandfold. She felt a cloak dropped, some shield removed, and pure dark energy poured out of him in tidal waves. She found herself cast adrift in a sea of mind-numbing power; it seemed more than she had ever dreamed one man could harness -- but a tiny corner of her mind told her she had expected it. She had known. She had taken the chance; she had even wanted to see it proven. Now she was caught in the dark undertow. But she would not drown.
"Is this what you seek?"
Tal-Lié thought, Yes. I seek the truth.
A smile like the dark side of a crescent moon turned the corners of Kuang-Shi's mouth. He stepped outside the radius of her lightsabre's light; he ceased to be.
With his absence Tal-Lié suddenly became clearheaded again. She had almost reached her objective. She stood here with the truth nearly in her hands, but at what price? That of her own life? There is no death; there is the Force. The words were not empty. They resounded with her own knowledge. The Force would guide her. Eyes of sky blue would guide her. She shut off her lightsabre and folded her hands meditatively into her own robe. Darkness pooled around her.
She lowered her head, closed her eyes. A tremendous surge of power engulfed her, not from within but from without -- and in answer to darkness, light burned bright from her heart. There was one for whom she would die to learn the truth. It was toward him that her thoughts turned, even as she felt Kuang-Shi's fingers tangle in her hair, twisting her head back, even as she felt his hand on her shoulder, unyielding as stone. She did not struggle or fight; only the brightness within her moved, surging outward. She would die for the truth.
She was not afraid.
End.
