Land and Sky: Places Brothers Go Chapter 11--The Messenger
Title: Places Brothers Go
Chapter Title: The Messenger
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: The eleventh in a series of *cough* short memory snippets from the early life of Obi-Wan's brother Owen, beginning on the day he learns of his brother's impending arrival. Approximately 26 years pre-TPM.
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen
Pairings/Characters: The Kenobis, Ierei Avardi
A/N: Mission_Insane Geography Table: Plains; 12_Stories Time Table Prompt #5 Weeks; 100colors Prompt #77 Blush.
The Messenger
A Ka’andesi can plot revenge for a very long time.
--Fox Kenobi
Somehow, I never did get to ask my father about the omen before Ben was born. It was only a few weeks after I spoke with Mom that he and Uncle Dannik flew for Coruscant. I tried to get up my nerve and ask before he left, but I still found the whole topic uncomfortable, even though I wasn’t sure why. Then they were almost three weeks late getting back after having to dodge both the pirates and a Jedi task force that had been set to uncover their base. When they did make it home, there was fallout from Tellenda-who had it in his head that they had collaborated with the Jedi or at least that they had betrayed the location of the pirates’ fleet.
Our family’s big freighter, the Honor’s Flight had at least a dozen false ID profiles, so they tried to land her under cover of night and slip out of the spaceport before anyone knew that they had returned. Once on the plains, they could have hidden for as long as they had to. No Ka’andesi would give them up, and people would have made sure that no one could find the rest of us, either.
Mom, Aunt Bee, and I didn’t know anything about it until Sadeya Deccol showed up in the middle of the night to warn us. I was awake in bed-I hadn’t slept well since the Honor’s Flight left for Coruscant-and I heard the speeder pull into our courtyard. Instantly, I scrambled out of bed and pulled on my warm winter tunic, robes, and fur-lined boots. I was on the stairs before Mom even came out the front door.
In the darkness, I could make out the silhouette of a vague, androgynous form wearing clan robes and head coverings. It moved swiftly toward the house, more like a specter than a living being. I jumped for the nearest swing-rope and vaulted to the ground, certain that something was wrong and just as sure I could guess what it was.
“Owen, good. Here,” a familiar voice cut through the night. I froze, too surprised to move or even reply. She tossed something at me, and it struck my chest, then slid into the snow at my feet.
“What…?”
“Hurry, now, we don’t have much time. Wake your mother,” Mrs. Deccol told me briskly.
I blushed, suddenly aware that I was wasting time. Glad of the darkness that hid my embarrassment, I shook myself out of the stupor that had gripped me and bent to pick up the piece of fabric that she had thrown in my direction. As soon as my fingers touched it, I recognized the stitching. An adat, the head covering a Ka’andesi man wore among enemies. I was only ten-two years shy of being old enough for one of these-there was only one reason that Mrs. Deccol would be bringing me one like this. I closed my fist around it and spun, running for the door.
“Ua! I shouted for my mother, and my heart sank as the word ripped itself past my lips. A child called his parents Uadi and Okodi, but my childhood ended in that moment. If I saw my father alive again, I could only address him as a man.
She met me in the doorway that led from the kitchen into the interior rooms of the compound. Her face was white and pinched. Her hands shook as she reached for my shoulders, but they steadied as she gripped me. For a heartbeat, I thought she would pull me against her swollen stomach and hold me, but she only stood that way for a second or two, then released me and turned her attention to Mrs. Deccol, who had followed me inside.
“What’s happened, Deya?” she asked. There was almost no emotion in her voice at all now, and with a start, I realized that she was already dressed for travel. Had she somehow known? Why hadn’t she told me? Why hadn’t she and Aunt Bee been outside waiting when Mrs. Deccol arrived?
“Your men came into port tonight. Tellenda had Honor’s Flight boarded. Fox and Dannik tried to fight their way out, but there were too many. Fox was shot. Dannik wouldn’t give the order even then,” the other woman related in a voice that hard and brittle with suppressed rage.
“Of course not. That would have played right into Tellenda’s hands,” my mother nodded crisply, as if she was discussing a holochess game instead of her family’s lives.
I looked at them in confusion, wanting to ask questions, knowing there would be no time. Aunt Bee appeared behind Mom and slid into the room carrying two heavy-looking satchels. Her lips were pressed into a thin white line, and she crossed the room, handing the bags to Mrs. Deccol.
“How badly was Fox hurt?” she asked.
“He took a blaster hit directly to the chest,” the other woman reported. “We don’t know whether he’s alive or dead.”
“Fox is alive,” Mom asserted. “How long ago did they come in?”
I fought back tears, mystified at how calmly she and Aunt Bee were accepting all this. The clansman in me understood it. We preferred to be a peaceful people, but we were well acquainted with violence and death. I knew that, later, when we were out of danger-at least for the moment-they would weep for their men. Another part of me wanted to throw myself at Sadeya Deccol and pummel her for bringing such news. My father could not be dead!
I clenched both hands around the adat I was holding, wrung the fabric like a chicken’s neck. Why hadn’t I gone with him? How could he leave like this? Didn’t he know that I wasn’t supposed to be a man yet? My mother was about to have a baby. How could I take care of them?
“About an hour ago,” Mrs. Deccol answered Mom’s question. “I would have come sooner, but I couldn’t risk taking our speeder.”
Mom and Aunt Bee both nodded, as if the answer confirmed something that they had already known. I felt a heavy weight settle on my chest. In silence, my mother laid her hand back on my shoulder.
“Come on,” she said. “There’s one more thing to be done.”
Chapter Title: The Messenger
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: The eleventh in a series of *cough* short memory snippets from the early life of Obi-Wan's brother Owen, beginning on the day he learns of his brother's impending arrival. Approximately 26 years pre-TPM.
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen
Pairings/Characters: The Kenobis, Ierei Avardi
A/N: Mission_Insane Geography Table: Plains; 12_Stories Time Table Prompt #5 Weeks; 100colors Prompt #77 Blush.
The Messenger
A Ka’andesi can plot revenge for a very long time.
--Fox Kenobi
Somehow, I never did get to ask my father about the omen before Ben was born. It was only a few weeks after I spoke with Mom that he and Uncle Dannik flew for Coruscant. I tried to get up my nerve and ask before he left, but I still found the whole topic uncomfortable, even though I wasn’t sure why. Then they were almost three weeks late getting back after having to dodge both the pirates and a Jedi task force that had been set to uncover their base. When they did make it home, there was fallout from Tellenda-who had it in his head that they had collaborated with the Jedi or at least that they had betrayed the location of the pirates’ fleet.
Our family’s big freighter, the Honor’s Flight had at least a dozen false ID profiles, so they tried to land her under cover of night and slip out of the spaceport before anyone knew that they had returned. Once on the plains, they could have hidden for as long as they had to. No Ka’andesi would give them up, and people would have made sure that no one could find the rest of us, either.
Mom, Aunt Bee, and I didn’t know anything about it until Sadeya Deccol showed up in the middle of the night to warn us. I was awake in bed-I hadn’t slept well since the Honor’s Flight left for Coruscant-and I heard the speeder pull into our courtyard. Instantly, I scrambled out of bed and pulled on my warm winter tunic, robes, and fur-lined boots. I was on the stairs before Mom even came out the front door.
In the darkness, I could make out the silhouette of a vague, androgynous form wearing clan robes and head coverings. It moved swiftly toward the house, more like a specter than a living being. I jumped for the nearest swing-rope and vaulted to the ground, certain that something was wrong and just as sure I could guess what it was.
“Owen, good. Here,” a familiar voice cut through the night. I froze, too surprised to move or even reply. She tossed something at me, and it struck my chest, then slid into the snow at my feet.
“What…?”
“Hurry, now, we don’t have much time. Wake your mother,” Mrs. Deccol told me briskly.
I blushed, suddenly aware that I was wasting time. Glad of the darkness that hid my embarrassment, I shook myself out of the stupor that had gripped me and bent to pick up the piece of fabric that she had thrown in my direction. As soon as my fingers touched it, I recognized the stitching. An adat, the head covering a Ka’andesi man wore among enemies. I was only ten-two years shy of being old enough for one of these-there was only one reason that Mrs. Deccol would be bringing me one like this. I closed my fist around it and spun, running for the door.
“Ua! I shouted for my mother, and my heart sank as the word ripped itself past my lips. A child called his parents Uadi and Okodi, but my childhood ended in that moment. If I saw my father alive again, I could only address him as a man.
She met me in the doorway that led from the kitchen into the interior rooms of the compound. Her face was white and pinched. Her hands shook as she reached for my shoulders, but they steadied as she gripped me. For a heartbeat, I thought she would pull me against her swollen stomach and hold me, but she only stood that way for a second or two, then released me and turned her attention to Mrs. Deccol, who had followed me inside.
“What’s happened, Deya?” she asked. There was almost no emotion in her voice at all now, and with a start, I realized that she was already dressed for travel. Had she somehow known? Why hadn’t she told me? Why hadn’t she and Aunt Bee been outside waiting when Mrs. Deccol arrived?
“Your men came into port tonight. Tellenda had Honor’s Flight boarded. Fox and Dannik tried to fight their way out, but there were too many. Fox was shot. Dannik wouldn’t give the order even then,” the other woman related in a voice that hard and brittle with suppressed rage.
“Of course not. That would have played right into Tellenda’s hands,” my mother nodded crisply, as if she was discussing a holochess game instead of her family’s lives.
I looked at them in confusion, wanting to ask questions, knowing there would be no time. Aunt Bee appeared behind Mom and slid into the room carrying two heavy-looking satchels. Her lips were pressed into a thin white line, and she crossed the room, handing the bags to Mrs. Deccol.
“How badly was Fox hurt?” she asked.
“He took a blaster hit directly to the chest,” the other woman reported. “We don’t know whether he’s alive or dead.”
“Fox is alive,” Mom asserted. “How long ago did they come in?”
I fought back tears, mystified at how calmly she and Aunt Bee were accepting all this. The clansman in me understood it. We preferred to be a peaceful people, but we were well acquainted with violence and death. I knew that, later, when we were out of danger-at least for the moment-they would weep for their men. Another part of me wanted to throw myself at Sadeya Deccol and pummel her for bringing such news. My father could not be dead!
I clenched both hands around the adat I was holding, wrung the fabric like a chicken’s neck. Why hadn’t I gone with him? How could he leave like this? Didn’t he know that I wasn’t supposed to be a man yet? My mother was about to have a baby. How could I take care of them?
“About an hour ago,” Mrs. Deccol answered Mom’s question. “I would have come sooner, but I couldn’t risk taking our speeder.”
Mom and Aunt Bee both nodded, as if the answer confirmed something that they had already known. I felt a heavy weight settle on my chest. In silence, my mother laid her hand back on my shoulder.
“Come on,” she said. “There’s one more thing to be done.”