Chapter Twenty-four

The blue blade swung past Queed’s head at the last instant and scorched the ground, molten rock splashing Queed’s armour and sand turned to glass. Skeet pulled the blade back and stepped back.

“You killed my mother,” he hissed, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. Arcc watched with anticipation.

“It... It was an accident,” Queed stammered.

“An accident?” Skeet shouted. “You shot her! In front of my eyes! You came storming in and you just shot her!”

“I didn’t know I had found you, I thought it was just another lead. When I came in I just saw this figure with a weapon and I fired. It was set to kill.” Queed suddenly went limp, his mouth down-turned and his eyes glazing over. “I never meant to kill her. I never wanted to. You have to believe me.”

“Believe you? Believe you?” Skeet held the blade at Queed’s throat.

“And what do you think you will gain by this!” Queed suddenly shouted. “What, do you think that you’ll kill me and she’ll miraculously appear at your side? What will you gain but my blood on your hands and,” Queed looked over at Arcc, “you’ll be doing what he wants!”

There was a sudden feeling that swept through Skeet’s senses, that of shock and a sudden realisation at what he was about to do. The blade suddenly felt heavy in his hand. He slowly turned to Arcc.

“You wanted this. You wanted him here for this, didn’t you?”

Queed flinched and continued to look at Arcc.

“You used him to make me angry. Used him to try and win this battle of souls. Well, it didn’t work, Nedeen. It won’t work. I’ll never allow myself to be manipulated by you. Never.”

Without warning Arcc roared again. His jaw seemed to dislocate, his mouth opening as he leapt forward, blade raised.

Skeet raised his own lightsabre just in time and as the two weapons clashed there was sharp clap like an electrical explosion and a flash of light. Arcc swung again, forcing Skeet back, who tried to manipulate the lightsabre but found the pulsing blade difficult to manage. He had the feeling that Arcc was toying with him, thrusting and slicing with no real intention to do harm.

As they moved across the canyon Queed pulled a pistol from a waist holster and took aim at Arcc. He closed his scarred eye as best he could to make sure his shot would be true and he pulled the trigger.

The red blaster bolt slammed into Arcc’s back, pushing him forward. At first Queed thought he’d made the kill but when Arcc spun to face him he knew that he wouldn’t get a second chance.

Arcc threw his lightsabre, his Force skills guiding the blade as it spun end over end at Queed. The bounty hunter tried to move from harm’s way but he wasn’t fast enough. The green blade slid through his left arm and severed it at the elbow, continuing on its path and the turning, making a complete circle to land back in Arcc’s hand.

Queed screamed, gripping his upper left arm and falling to his side. The wound had cauterised immediately from the heat of the blade but the pain was too strong for him to handle. He curled up on the ground and whimpered.

Skeet had taken the opportunity of Arcc being disarmed to step forward to make a strike but by the time he had moved the spinning green-bladed lightsabre had landed back in the dark creature’s hand. Arcc spun in the air as he came back at Skeet, knocking the man off his feet as he lashed out with a high kick that connected with his chest. He stepped forward, ready for the killing blow, the blade emitter held in both hands above his head and point-down. The mouth had closed, the grin giving the appearance that he was going to take pleasure in what he was about to do.

Skeet looked up and then closed his eyes as he saw the blade start to descend.

I’m sorry, uncle. I’m sorry, Brey. I tried.

But no deathblow came. Skeet slowly opened his eyes to see Arcc with the lightsabre in one hand, the blade pointed away from him. Arcc appeared to sag.

“I have chosen you, Skeet. It does me no good to kill you.”

Arcc deactivated the lightsabre and turned, stalking away from the scene. At first Skeet though he was going to board the vessel but he never. He walked straight past the boarding ramp and into the desert.

All Skeet could do was watch him go. The dark figure, the robes fluttering like a pennant in the wind as he exited the box canyon. The figure slowly receded into the darkness and before long was swallowed by the night. Skeet slowly got to his feet and picked up the lightsabre he had dropped which still burned brightly on the ground. He walked towards Queed who had managed to get to his knees, still tenderly holding his severed left arm.

“You helped me,” Skeet said simply.

“I...” Queed gritted his teeth as pain washed through him. “I was trying to make up for a mistake.”

Skeet looked down at the man, at his disfigured face and his horrible wound. Queed looked back at him, the pain evident on his features. His eyes flickered from the still bright lightsabre to Skeet.

With a flick of his thumb Skeet de-activated the sabre.

“You’d best get out of here, get that treated,” Skeet said.

Queed managed to haul himself to his feet, still watching Skeet warily.

“Would you have killed me?” he wanted to know.

“Then, when I knew who you were, I would have,” Skeet replied. “At that moment I would have gladly sliced you in two. But that would have served no purpose. There would be another man dead and I would be in the thrall of Nedeen. We were both used.”

“Skeet, your mother...”

“Would have wanted it this way,” Skeet cut him off, remembering that moment when the bounty hunter had looked up at a terrified boy as he stood over his mother’s body and saying, I’m sorry. “Get out of here.”

There was no need for Skeet to make his position clear. He turned with a dismissive air about him and started to head for his speeder.

The Afterburner, Queed’s vessel, started to rise as the twin suns of Tatooine broke the horizon. Skeet watched the craft head into the heavens and continued to watch it as it dwindled to a sparkle in the sky and then vanished.

Why did he let me go? Skeet thought. Why did Nedeen let me live? ‘It does me no good to kill you’. Why didn’t he try harder? Try again? Why did he let me go?

What does he intend to do?

Skeet slapped the starting stud and powered the speeder up, taking a bite from a concentrate and grabbing steering controls. He turned the speeder slowly and headed for the exit to the box canyon. Enneight reported,

“We are starting earlier than planned. Do you intend...?”

“I intend to finish this race.”

“Pardon me for enquiring, but what happened this morning? Who was that man?”

“He wasn’t a man,” Skeet whispered as he slammed the accelerator down and got back on course. “He was a shadow. Look, not a word of this to anyone, okay? Not to Emag or Eilen or anyone. That never happened. I’m a racer, not a Force warrior and that’s how it’s going to stay.”

“But surely the others...”

“It’s my problem!” Skeet snapped. He sighed and relaxed, his next words in a calmer tone. “It’s over, anyway. No-one got what they wanted last night.” He thought of Arcc’s need for him, Queed’s redemption over what had happened those many years ago. And, and the thought made him shiver, he didn’t get his revenge for his mother’s death. No one got what they wanted.

No one.