Bid Against the Thunder || ONC 2020

Chapter 13 - In the End

 Storm clouds gathered over the Judges of the Dead. Four 20-meter monoliths marked the boundaries of the smuggler's graveyard. The sandblasted stones were millennia old and resembled veiled women in the act of mourning. No bodies were buried in the consecrated ground, only relics of the deceased's life. Bodies were cremated in the deep desert according to strict doctrine, the ashes left to the wind for dispersal.

Tabraile knelt at the edge of the graveyard, where countless mementos were buried beneath the sand. He stared down at Anayera's lightsaber, but was unable to bring himself to bury it as he had buried his brother's saber and his own, keeping his father's blaster to claim by birthright.

He absently rolled the mojle beads between his fingers. Though the obsidian beads were smooth and always cool to the touch, they did little to soothe the darkness rising within him. Desperately seeking solace, Tabraile whispered the wayfarer's prayer for a safe journey under his breath.

"She was a bitter, broken thing until she found you. Paquor mea," Elba whispered. Standing near one of the larger monoliths, he stared into the menacing clouds above them. "You were no different. Being together made you both whole again."

"Are you saying I have to accept this?"

"You have no choice in the matter. What is done is done, but bad blood has been given. Petchuk!" he swore and spat into the sand. "She was family, and this offense must be answered. Ut anir Nharqis!"

"Eat his ashes?" Tabraile asked. "Are you telling me to fight him?"

"You're Socorran, born of Jyalma—the black desert and its winds. Your survival has always been dependent on your willingness to fight."

"How am I supposed to even find him."

Elba threw a githrosphere on the ground beside him. "He's not leaving the planet without that. It's very difficult to manage a fighter when you don't know which way is up and which is down. I punctured the hydraulic line, not enough to disable the device, but enough to leave a trail. You won't need to find him. He'll come to you."

Tabraile sat back on his legs and shook his head. "Elba, he'll just call for someone to pick him up."

"Not if the starport refuses to allow them entry, which they have," the Bronwen countered. "Your father's name still has power here, and the Black Bha'lir don't like being told what to do, especially by Imperials. The Empire knows not to test Socorran temperament."

"Do I have any more of a chance than she did?"

"If you die, you will be reunited with her. If you live, you will have honored your heritage and avenged her death. Either way, you will have your happily ever after. Trust your heart, Marric. There is a reason why you were better than most at ibhidi katoi taranau."

"Why is that, old man?"

"The foolish say, 'Be the lightning before the thunder.' They are wrong. It is the lightning that creates the thunder. Without it, the thunder would have no voice." The Bronwen took a long, deep breath and pulled a heavy cowl over his hoary head. "I think I will go for a long walk. I have missed the desert and her voice."

Tabraile knew the old man would be gone for at least a year, if he came back at all. "Doaba ol'val tru, grandfather."

"Sahsahlah, my boy. May you find the peace you've been seeking. Doaba ol'val tru."

Tabraile picked up Anayera's lightsaber and the githrosphere and got to his feet. RK-O9 anxiously whistled at his feet. "You stay out of this." He settled the droid on the racing swoop and strapped it into the pilot's seat, then covered him with his flight jacket. "I'm setting this swoop on autopilot. If things go sideways, Soco-Jarel is that way." Tabraile pointed in the direction of the starport. "Look for Karl Ancher. Tell him what happened. He'll take good care of you."