The Clear Sound of Jewels

By Colleen Winters

Sound and light boomed in the high-vaulted space of the main temple, but Yfarran Dun, priestess of the Goddesses danced on, unaware of the percussion and music produced by the worshippers. She was lost to all except the presence of the Goddess Jiyooza herself, who invaded every cell of her body, pulling her around in the complex dance of her adoration. Filtered sunlight gleamed on the two swords she held, her fast, intricate movements sending shards of light flashing away into the temple. Jiyooza was the goddess of warriors and strong endeavor, and today was her great feast day. Yfarran leaped upward, blades spinning high and low, body turning in midair as if borne aloft by repulsors, her pale hair streaming away like a silvery cataract.

At last her dance brought her to a point near the main altar, the upper surface of which was covered with flowers and softly glowing candles. Just in front of the altar was a thick pedestal of dark marbled stone. Yfarran halted before it, rose onto her toes and with a smooth, deliberate motion, plunged the twin blades into the stone. They penetrated without a sound. She pushed until half their lengths were buried, then released her grip and stepped back slowly to kneel and make a final gesture of prayer.

After several minutes of silence, she rose and turned to the crowd of parishioners, raising her hands and voice in a blessing. The people murmured the response to the benediction and began to filter out of the chamber.
Yfarran watched them go, still in that heightened sense of awareness that hosting a Goddess bequeathed upon her priestess. She shivered, feeling a thin knife-like chill on her body. It felt as if the room had been invaded by a gust from the winters of her homeworld. But this level of the planet-city of Coruscant hosted no such intemperate winds, and Yfarran found herself looking over the heads of the people, into the further recesses of the great temple. A subtle movement caught the edges of her heightened vision. There - again. She focused her eyes sharply. And saw a face out of nightmare, floating as if disembodied in the deep gloom of the far nave. A face boldly patterned in aggressive jags of red and black. The rest of the person, if person it was, was swathed in a hooded robe of black that made him almost invisible. Hot yellow eyes burned into her own grey ones and Yfarran gasped as a shock of fire raced along her nerves, rudely replacing the calm euphoria of the Goddess. The room seemed suddenly devoid of air and she staggered, fighting for breath, her eyes closing for an instant as she fought to stay conscious. Am I dreaming? Having a waking nightmare? Soft, deep roaring filled her ears, then receded.

Yfarran opened her eyes and immediately made herself look again into the nave, her heart pounding. The nightmare vision was gone and no one else seemed to be aware that it had ever been there. That he had been there. Somehow, Yfarran was quite sure it was a he. Gathering up her outer ceremonial robes, she quickly wrapped herself in them. Seeking to keep her walk to a decorous pace, she moved away toward the section of the temple which housed her quarters, trying to ignore the strange, hot fire that had invaded her veins.

***

Darth Maul, a lord of the Sith and apprentice to Darth Sidious, the reigning Lord, glared out into the open space of the Temple of the Goddesses. This place was a quaint relic of pre-modern beliefs, when people worshipped the Force without understanding what it really was. The temple had been built by the people of the planet Melesia in long ages past when they had joined the ranks of the Republic. The offerings of the faithful had kept the place beautifully preserved and staffed with priestesses who held regular services of the Three Goddesses for those Melesians who were living on Coruscant, as well as for the converts and the curious who came to watch. Maul had gone in unobserved at the edges of the crowd, drawn by a persistent feeling that something needed his attention. The service itself had been a colossal bore at first, consisting of much pretty music and chanting and offerings of flowers to the various deities by priestesses in long robes. As he understood it, ancient Sith services had been much more exciting and he scowled with derision at the tame, bloodless offerings. Hidden by his dark clothing in an ill-lit recess, Maul had tried not to fidget as he waited, still held by that intuition that something interesting was about to happen.

The chief priestess, still young if her face was any indication, shed her long outer robes, moved to the main altar, and lifted from its surface two long swords of steel. Now that looked promising. Maul's attention centered on her as she began to dance, slowly at first, then with greater speed, the swords weaving a complicated counterpoint to her movements. Faster and faster she spun and leaped and Maul felt it then; the surge and tug of the Force rushing through the priestess. His yellow eyes widened. She was a Jedi?! No, he decided, half-closing his eyes so he could concentrate on his sensations. She should have been one perhaps, but was not. Instead she tapped into the Force as part of her worship, touching it instinctively, allowing it to move her in her dangerous sword dance, so that she performed without fear, without harm. She shared the Force with the worshipers as well, spinning it out into the temple as if weaving a brightly patterned cloth. A fabric that was mostly composed of the Light side, but that had elements of the Dark as well.

Maul breathed out softly and edged a step closer, allowing the weavings of the Force to flow around himself, lost in watching the priestess dance. She was all limber grace and fluid movement. For him, time was suspended as he concentrated on the Force. He became aware that the priestess had ceased dancing and was staring at him. For a long instant his eyes locked on hers, hot yellow into cool grey. Fire invaded his body, crawling along his nerves, softly at first, then surging to a bright intensity. He inhaled a ragged breath, arching his back against sudden invisible pressure. At last he tore his gaze away and stepped back into the protective darkness.

Anger fueled the strength that fed him power from the Dark Side, but this feeling, while incredibly intense, was not anger, but something else. Something older, stronger, and possessed of its own raw wisdom. Hidden by the deep gloom of the temple, he watched the last of the acolytes leave, breathing harshly and feeling the beat of his pulse pound in his ears. He dug his hands into the muscles of his forearms, trying to ease the burning fire that now wrapped his nerves. I should go to Lord Sidious, he thought. He may have work for me to do. His plans are approaching fruition. The moment for which I have trained will soon be here. But even as he thought these thoughts, his steps were turning to follow the trail of the priestess and her entourage. An unseen shadow, he moved in their wake.

***

Yfarran leaned on the waist-high parapet of glossy blue stone that formed the outer edge of the upper temple promenade. Her elbows touched pots of lovely trailing sula flowers which had been placed at neat intervals on the railing to add a touch of nature's own life to the cool stone. A light mag-field kept the pots in place against the stiff winds that often scoured the upper stories of Coruscant. The young priestess scowled out at the impressive cityscape, lost in her own uncomfortable thoughts.

Why do I feel so strange? What caused my vision? Why did I see that man-thing in the Temple? She rubbed at her forearms and scraped the shin of one leg with the instep of the other foot, trying without success to ease the persistent burning in her nerves. Am I getting the love sickness? As soon as the thought had formed, she shook her head sharply in denial. No! That's impossible. Besides, I've spoken with the other women. It isn't supposed to feel like this. It must be something else. The air was chill at this altitude, but she felt feverish, even in her light robes. Forcing herself to stand still, she rested her head against one of the flowerpots, absorbing some of its welcome coolness. For a time she remained perfectly motionless, trying to think of nothing. A soft susurration whispered on the breeze, barely audible. Yfarran blinked, surprised to find that everything had grown dark. The city lights were a blaze of bright jewels in the evening sky. Somehow the sun had set. Pushing herself upright, she drew in a deep breath and prepared to return to her duties. Perhaps I should see the physician? She wondered. In the morning, if I feel no better, I think I will. A small scratching sound from the other side of the parapet made her look down curiously at the wall of the building below.

The red-and-black-marked face of her nightmare vision in the temple peered up at her, attached to the body of a man in the act of scaling the building. He wore some sort of device on his hands which had enabled him to climb to his present perch undetected by any sensors. Swathed in black robes, his body was nearly invisible against the dark stone and he clung to his place on the wall not one floor below. His yellow eyes bored into hers with fierce intensity, gleaming with a red shine in their inner depths. Yfarran uttered a strangled gasp, caught by his stare and by a sudden rush of that powerful feeling she had suffered earlier in the day. As if trapped in a real nightmare, she found she couldn't move, couldn't even cry out for help. Heart pounding, she struggled against her invisible bonds. With terrible effort, she pulled her gaze away from his, but was acutely aware that he was continuing his climb upward. Averting her eyes seemed to help a little and with another great wrench, she pushed herself away from the parapet. Her spasmodic thrust jarred a pot loose from its mooring and it toppled into space. Seconds later Yfarran heard a sharp crash as the potted plant shattered against something.

Merciful Haniya! The man! I've accidentally hit him with the plant! What if I've hurt him? What if he falls?! Now that she'd gained the safety of the balcony portal, Yfarran dithered, torn between fear and guilt over having perhaps caused someone harm. Just because he's an intruder doesn't mean he should die! Her fingers on the door, she began to step back onto the balcony. The sight of a black-gloved hand reaching up and gripping the parapet stopped her short. A moment later the dark man boosted himself lithely over the barrier, shedding clumps of soil and fragments of broken pot from his robes.

Brushing off the trailing bits of plant and dirt, he spoke, his soft voice at odds with his dire appearance. "You have a most unique way of performing introductions. Come here."

His last command was spoken to the closed balcony door, Yfarran having shot through the barrier in record time. Snorting, he shook off the last of the pot shards, and approached the door. It was locked, of course, but the lock was simple and yielded to a push from the Force. The door slid smartly open, revealing a bevy of robed women, priestesses or novitiates, some of whom were looking off up the hall, obviously confused by Yfarran's hasty exit. They all turned their heads in unison as the door opened, revealing the ebony form of the Sith Lord. All together, their mouths gaped and their eyes went wide. Yielding to some antic impulse, Darth Maul gave them a nice smile, revealing teeth that had been tinted to look even sharper than they already were.

"Good evening," he murmured darkly.

As one, the priestesses screamed, their voices echoing loudly down the stone corridors, then they stampeded up the hallway in a flurry of robes, their unity lost in panic-stricken flight Soon he had the hall to himself. Alarm gongs began to sound. Maul hissed in annoyance. The object of his curiosity would be well-sequestered in a strong area by now. He would have to find another opportunity. The pale one has much spirit, attacking me with the weapons to hand. I like that, he thought, smiling inwardly. Running silently up the corridor, he plunged into a pool of dark shadows and vanished.

The temple guardians arrived moments later and searched diligently, but found no further sign of the mysterious intruder.

***

The success of a predator, thought Darth Maul as he waited patiently for the guard droid to clump by, lies not so much in its size or armament, but in its cunning use of stealth and guile to bring itself within striking distance of its prey. He lay quietly in a clever ambuscade, stretched along a wide decorative molding below the high ceiling. The architecture of the temple was given to lofty, airy stretches and lavish ornament, a tendency which worked to his advantage as he moved to bring himself closer to the object of his hunt.

At this height, his heat-signature was above the sensors of the guard-droids. The air warmed by his body would not settle down to their level until it had cooled to the ambient temperature. The guardians of the temple were obviously unused to dealing with serious intruders. Their monitors were at a minimum and the guard-droids had just been hired from a security agency to give them some further protection after the excitement of the previous day. Their idea of security was laughable, but Darth Maul was just as pleased that they had not called in more formidable guards or the Jedi. For some reason his strength had been ebbing since yesterday and while he still felt more than capable of fighting a legion of Jedi, had it been necessary, he found that he wanted the pale priestess more than a fight with his great enemies. The thought came as a shock.

What do I want with her? I feel sick. She makes my bones ache and my nerves burn. I should either kill her at once, or just leave. Why do I want to see her? To touch her? The thought of touching the pale skin of the priestess made him shiver. Now that the droid had gone, he leaped soundlessly from his perch and moved swiftly down the hall, following that unerring thread of sensation that told him the priestess was near, somewhere in the living quarters of the temple.

***

"I hate having those droid guards around," sighed Rika as she combed Yfarran's damp hair carefully. "Things in the temple should be done by living beings, not by machines."

The priestess sat in her private chambers accompanied by her two maidservants and companions. Blonde, petite Emer sat in front of her on the opposite side of a low table, placing the food she'd cooked before Yfarran, while Rika helped the priestess with her long newly-washed tresses.

Yfarran turned her head slightly to look at Rika, wincing as the movement tugged on her scalp.

"We thought it would help keep us safe against intruders. After yesterday."

"Oh, the thing in black. I wish I had seen it. I always miss all the excitement." Emer held up her hands in a 'why me' gesture, then nudged at the plate of food before Yfarran. "Aren't you going to eat anything? After all the work I put into cooking it?"

Yfarran looked guiltily at her cook, a longtime friend. "I'm sorry, Emer, but I have no appetite right now. It looks lovely, but I just can't eat. The excitement you missed has robbed me of my appetite."

"No wonder, after everything you've been through." Rika gave the comb a final tug and shook her charge's hair out evenly to finish drying. "Being chased by some crazy creature in our temple! What is happening in the world?"

"I don't know, but things are changing, can't you feel it? The air is full of energy. The weavings are becoming brighter."

"For those who see with the eyes of the Goddesses, perhaps so. All I notice is life proceeding as usual, except for the occasional strange event." Rika shrugged and Emer nodded in agreement. "I wouldn't want your gift, Lady Yfarran. It seems too much of a burden to me."

"It is not usually troublesome, but just lately…" Yfarran twitched and looked around, scanning the room quickly.

"My Lady?" Rika began, but Yfarran cut her off.

"Wisht! Be still a moment. Can't you feel it?"

Her two attendants looked at her blankly, obviously immune to whatever stung her senses. The young priestess rose, wrapping her robe about her well-muscled frame and tying the sash securely. The hairs on the back of her neck prickling, she strode across the common sitting room and quickly slid open the door to her bedchamber. Darkness greeted her gaze, which was not unexpected, since she had left the room unlit before bathing and sharing supper with her maids, but this darkness had substance.

Greatly daring, Yfarran put out her hand and felt it stop against a warm, firm surface. The darkness moved, turning to reveal in the soft reflected light of the sitting room, the cowled and robed form of a man. The very man who Yfarran had last seen on the temple promenade. Yfarran's breath caught in her throat at the sight of his face, marked in red and black. His head, she noticed at this close range, was crowned by a ring of short horns. He was looking at her hand where it rested on his shoulder, so for the moment she was spared the full impact of his stare. His breath drifted warmly over the skin of her fingers. Suddenly he shifted his attention to her face, his look as fierce as that of some wild, predatory bird. Yfarran threw herself backward, leaping into the sitting room as his hands closed on empty air.

At once he stepped forward to pursue her, expression intent. To either side, Yfarran could hear her companions shriek as they caught sight of her uncanny visitant. At their cries, he turned his head slightly, looking annoyed and much more dangerous.

"Get behind me!" Yfarran cried, and without looking to see if her maids had obeyed, she blocked his path, raising her hands in a mystical gesture.

"In farra amagath,
In mach namuthith!"

The warding spell burst from her in a bright flare of power and the man in black was hurled back into the bedroom as if blown by a hurricane wind. He fetched up against the far wall and slid down to the floor looking utterly surprised. Yfarran did not wait, but gathered her friends and fled, pushing them before her into the outer hall and thence into the priestesses' wing of the temple, calling for help as they went.
Maul levered himself off the floor and after some effort managed to make his eyes focus. The priestess was long gone. With a grunt, he rose and lost himself in the maze of the temple, easily evading the guards, both human and droid.

A light-side sorceress! Why do I want to be near that? he thought at first in puzzlement. His blood warmed considerably when he replayed in his memory the moments she had held her hand on his body.

She is strong; strong in the Force. So why did she not finish me when she had the momentary advantage? He mused over this as he emerged into the air on an upper level. His speeder waited for him above and answered his summons silently. He mounted the machine and flew toward the secret place the Sith maintained on Coruscant. The cool air helped to carry away some of his fever, which cleared his mind. The answer came as a revelation. Ah - she cannot bring herself to harm me. As I cannot bring myself to harm her. The deduction was both exhilarating and uncomfortable. My master, he decided at last, my master will know what to do about this strangeness.

***

"Welcome, my apprentice." Darth Sidious' silky voice reached out to enfold Darth Maul as he entered the softly-lit chamber of the Lord of the Sith.

"My Master," he murmured, inclining his tattooed head in a reverent bow.
Sidious considered his student thoughtfully. "I sense a disturbance about you, Darth Maul. Has something of note happened?"

"Master, I returned to Coruscant two days ago from our enclave. All is well with our disciples. When I arrived in the city, I felt some thread of the Force draw me to one of the old temples. I saw a priestess there…"

"A female? A human female?"

"Yes. I believe she is human. She-"

Sidious' sudden chuckle cut him off. Maul looked at his master in surprise. The Sith Lord was not known for jocular good humor unless something particularly nasty was afoot. Now the older man looked narrowly at the younger, holding his hands out in a way to frame his view of Maul's body and shield the rest of the chamber from his view. "Now I understand why a great red ripple in the Force follows you like a cloud. You are feeling your urges, that is all."

"My what?" Maul stared at his master with disbelieving eyes.

"Your urges; the need-fires. I'm surprised you haven't had them before now, but perhaps your training kept you too focused and busy to allow you the time. Training on remote worlds without female companionship probably delayed your maturation." He chuckled again, grinning at the discomfiture of his apprentice.

"I do not understand, my Master," Maul growled softly, shifting restlessly in place. He dug at his arms without thinking.

"There is little to understand. You are young and healthy and male and you have finally noticed a female and she has sparked your need."

"What?! But… I do not have time for this sort of idiocy!"

"The Force and our hormones reckon little for our perceptions of time, my dear boy."

"What is to be done?"

The Dark Lord smiled at his unhappy student.

"Find the girl, take her away somewhere safe and do what you must. The need-fire will subside eventually and you will soon feel much better."

"I'm not some sort of breeding Rancor, to take a mate on the basis of - of - urges!" Maul glared at the older man.

Sidious shrugged. "At this point my apprentice, you might as well be. The sensation of need will not subside until you attend to yourself properly. Until then, you will suffer all the torments you've been suffering until now - and don't deny you've been feeling them - and they will only get worse with time. Take care of yourself now and you will be back to normal that much faster." He walked around Maul as he spoke, looking him up and down. "You do have it bad. You are casting an aura as bright as the flame nebula. Do not go near the stronghold of the Jedi in this state. They won't be able to miss you."

"Master, I cannot do this! She is-" A light-sider, he tried to say, but his master cut him off before he could get the words out.

"She can be the lowliest slave or the highest Lady, it matters not." He gave Maul a stern glare that caused the young Sith warrior to take a step backward. "Now is not the time to suffer dainty sensibilities. She could be a Hutt, for all we care. What matters is that you restore some balance to your system. You are weakening, can't you feel it?"

Maul nodded wordlessly, sharply aware of the steady encroachment of lassitude, as if he were slowly bleeding to death. Combined with the raw fire in his nerves, the sensations were rapidly becoming intolerable.
"Well then, go, before you become too drained to be of any use to me."

Maul tried one last time to give voice to his misgivings. "But, my Master, she-"

"No." The tone was utterly final. "Now, be off with you. Go take care of your needs and let me hear no more objections. Return when your mind is clear." Darth Sidious gestured toward the door, dismissing Darth Maul. His thin lips parted in a strange smile. "In a way, I almost envy you, my young apprentice. This is your time; you should enjoy it. Ah, to be young again!" He sighed dramatically, then ended with a happily evil chuckle.

Darth Maul bowed his horned head in acceptance, out of arguments and nearly out of strength. The need-fire burned ceaselessly in his body, sapping his energy, drawing him, helpless as a flitter to a glowlamp, toward the priestess. He had tried to tell Lord Sidious that she was a light-sider, but he hadn't been listening. Maul exhaled deeply. "As you will, my Master. I will return as soon as I can."

Sidious waved him off. "Go, go. My plans are still maturing. It will be some time yet before your part comes before us. I do not sense anything happening in the near future for which I will need you. There is plenty of time. Go."

With a final bow, Darth Maul turned on his heel and left his master, trailing a sensation of raw brightness. Although his strides were long and limber, Sidious could detect the faint wobble in his apprentice's gait. With a soft snort, he turned away. "Imagine waiting so long! What was he thinking of?!" Rubbing his hands together, Sidious moved off to prepare for a long-planned secret meeting with the Trade Federation Viceroy. Soon, very soon, his plans would begin to ripen. He spared a last moment of thought for his apprentice. I shall have to determine later what sort of female it was that caught his interest. It is always good to know if he can be controlled through his desires. He left his sanctuary ringing with evil laughter, the minor matter of Darth Maul dropped from his mind for now.

***

"You felt Need for a man in the temple?" Eldest priestess Daiko asked gently. They were meeting in the heart of the temple complex, which was now ringed with guards.

Yfarran nodded her head, clutching her arms across her chest. Finally she spoke to the older woman in a low tone. "If man it was. He looked more like a Dawat to me, with those horns on his head. And that face!"

"A Dawat?" asked Minna-re, the youngest. Both of the other head priestesses had missed the stranger's two intrusions into their sanctuary. Daiko was the oldest and wisest of the three, her unlined, serene face belying her age.

"One of the ancient guardians of the netherworld," Daiko said calmly. "Such things have happened in the legends of our Order, my sister. You surely must remember that the Goddess Jiyooza herself is consorted by four Dawat. Your last manifestation was of Jiyooza, was it not?"

Yfarran stared at the priestess, grey eyes startled. "Y-yes, but… but I never asked for… I never thought that such things could happen now, on the physical plane!"

"Perhaps the Goddesses want to stir us from our complacency?"

"I'm certainly stirred! But they didn't need to do it this way!" Yfarran cried. "A portent, a vision, perhaps, would have been sufficient. But a manifestation? Now we have a Dawat loose in the temple - perhaps in the city itself. This is terrible. What are we to do?"

"We should keep ourselves out of the way of the Goddess' Consort," Daiko said with a significant look at Minna-re. She folded her hands before her chest and bowed to Yfarran. "While the Embodiment of Jiyooza performs according to the will of the Goddess." Daiko bowed again and backed her way out of the room, taking Minna-re with her.

"Hai, so that's the way of it, is it?" sighed Yfarran to herself. Her fellow-priestesses had decided on their course of action; now it was up to her to make her own decisions. She sat in silence for over an hour, turning things over in her mind. Jiyooza has set this path before me. I do not think I can refuse to take it. If such is to be my fate, then my course is clear. She tightened her jaw muscles and rose, her mind now made up.

Outside the inner sanctum, she could hear the murmur of voices. The Temple had male clerics and male guards as well. Some of these had gathered in the hall before the priestesses' chambers and were discussing the strange invasions in low tones. They looked up as she emerged, the many layers of her formal robes covered by a dark outer robe used for traveling.

"My Lady Yfarran," said Ab'sarat, the chieftain of the Temple guards. The man was dark and grizzled with age, but his eyes were clear. "The other Priestesses left without giving us any orders. What do you wish us to do?"

"My good Guardian." Yfarran nodded at the older man respectfully. "The Goddess Jiyooza has called me to a special service. It is up to me to deal with the- the- Dawat that now haunts the Temple. I must do this alone. The Goddess has made it plain that this is my responsibility."

"The Goddess?!" One of the other clerics gasped. "Jiyooza herself? This is unheard of!"

"Not really, Gensar. Daiko knows of similar manifestations from the ancient times." Yfarran gave the man a reassuring smile, but he did not seem at all comfortable with the concept of any of the three Goddesses themselves taking a hand in the lives of their worshippers.

"But, but, what shall we do?"

"What I need you to do is to return the Temple to its normal routine. Send the guard-droids back to their owner. Patrol the Temple only as you would on any other day. If you encounter the Dawat, leave him strictly alone and he will not harm you."

"But what about you?" A younger Guard asked in disbelief. "Who will keep you safe?"

"The Goddess herself will see to me. I am going to go into the Old Temple, to stay in the ancient Sanctuary of Jiyooza, and there wait for the Dawat. I will put myself into the hands of the Goddess. If I can, I will return to you when all is finished." Yfarran turned away and began to walk toward the distant turbolifts that served the many levels of the Temple.

"But my Lady!" called Gensar in protest, "the Dawat are demons of the underworld! You cannot allow one of those to come near to you! What if he…"

Yfarran turned and gave him a sharp glare. "You may not interfere. No matter what transpires, I have received the command of Jiyooza and I will perform her will. Do not follow me, do not try to intervene. Do you understand?" Her tone was calm and commanding.

Gensar stared at her unhappily, his face torn by conflicting emotions. Finally he nodded. "I understand, my Lady. I do not like it, but I will obey your directions."

"Very good. Do pray for me. If Jiyooza is kind, I will return to you all eventually." Yfarran bowed to them and walked quickly away, leaving the men to stare after her with varying degrees of unhappiness.

***

The Old Temple was located in the lower depths of the Great Temple, far below those levels now in public use. Rather than raze the old structure, the new Temple was simply extended upward from the base of the old, following the traditional building practices of Coruscant. The air was cooled by the exhalations of the massive and aged metal and stones. Yfarran found it a blessed relief from her fever and entered the vast, gloomy space of the old sanctuary of Jiyooza eagerly.

She stopped in the center of the chamber. Although all priestesses knew about the various levels of the Temple, old and new, she had never actually been down to this level before. She squinted into the gloom, trying to see details, but the darkness was too thick. A murmured spell brought a rush of soft light to the glows set in recessed niches high above. Yfarran sighed happily as the light revealed a familiar holy space, laid out in the ancient patterns established by her order. The stone underfoot was a mosaic of dark blue and pale grey stone, worn smooth by the countless feet of worshippers. In the center stood an altar, composed of what might have been a single solid gemstone of tourmaline, the crystalline structure carrying the light throughout its form so that it glowed and glimmered in bright shards of pale blue-green light.

Fine overlay carvings in alabaster ran around the upper edge of the altar, and after looking at them for a few minutes, Yfarran knew that the altar had been dedicated solely to Jiyooza. The modern temple where she worshipped had an altar that was left "open", dedicated to no particular goddess. This enabled the priestesses and clergy to hold services to whatever goddess they wished. In contrast, the lower regions of the Temple had separate holy shrines and temples dedicated to each goddess of the pantheon.

Placing the palms of her hands together, Yfarran bowed before the altar, thinking how appropriate it was that her fate had led her to this place. Jiyooza, goddess of warriors, strong of will, swift to action, she thought. Jiyooza the fearless. I wish I were without fear right now. Yfarran drew a deep breath and attempted to quiet her heart and thoughts. In doing so, she became aware of a presence, a red fire moving through the Force. It was not yet in the Old Temple, but it was in the upper reaches of the greater building, moving steadily down toward her with a feeling of heavy, unstoppable momentum, like the approach of a great storm. The presence was familiar to her. She had been near it several times now. Her heart kicked sharply in her chest. The Dawat, or whatever he is, draws near. He will be here soon. Now I wish I really were without fear.

She raised her eyes to the altar and they widened in surprise. She hadn't noticed before, but the swords of Jiyooza were embedded into the altar's upper surface, as they were stored when the temple was in use. Yfarran approached the altar quickly, then halted reverently and bowed. The swords were thrust into the stone of the altar, sunk in over half their length, as was usual. They had to be as old as the temple itself, yet they showed no sign of deterioration, the exposed pale metal gleaming as if newly polished.

The priestess prostrated herself before the altar, then rose and removed her outer robes, leaving only her light under-robe. Centering herself, she stepped up to the altar and grasped the hilts of the swords, one in each hand. The hilts felt warm, as if someone had only just put them down. Now that the ritual was begun, Yfarran felt the spirit of the Goddess move through her, stilling her mind and expanding her senses. The vast dimly lit space of the temple came into sharp focus. With a soft whisper, the blades came free of the stone without effort and she lifted them high in the first movement of the ritual dance.

***

Darth Maul paced swiftly and silently through the corridors of the old temple complex, following that unerring thread of sensation that led him onward toward the priestess. Terrible need held his body in an iron grip and he tried not to think of the eventual outcome of his hunt, of his meeting with the Light-sider. Instead, he turned all of his strength toward reaching his goal, navigating the hallways as carefully as if he were raiding the Jedi's stronghold itself. In this at least, the Force smiled upon him, for he found these levels of the Temple sparsely populated, and the further down he went, the fewer living beings he encountered. He avoided the turbolifts, instead taking the old stairs and ramps built into the edifice. No one used these anymore, and while they were kept clean by service droids, they were his alone to navigate.

Lower and lower he went into the depths of the temple. The air became cooler, the hallways dimmer. Suddenly a bright flare of power rippled through the Force. Maul halted, swaying with the strength of it. It is her! The sensation was unmistakable, a working of the Force, strong and clear, composed of the Light-side, but having elements of the Dark as well, gleaming in many colors. He breathed in deeply, feeling the weaving draw him onward. He strode forward again, still fighting some remnants of rejection in his own mind. What am I doing?! She wields the Light side! This is insane! Still, he found himself moving even faster than before, the walls of the hallway blurring as he sped by. Darkness followed his footsteps.

***

Yfarran danced, lost in the looming of the complex tapestry of the Goddess. Somewhere close by, another being like herself added skeins of burning red and inky black to the weaving. She accepted this gladly, blending the fiery threads into the fabric of the whole cloth. The Goddess saw that the strong colors made the design stand out in high contrast, which pleased Her very much.

"Lady Yfarran!" The harsh shout intruded upon her working. Yfarran shook herself partly out of the aspect of the Goddess, becoming just aware enough of the physical world to look out into the sanctuary. While she had been enrapt in her dance, the room had filled with armed, armored men. They held drawn blasters in their hands and what she could see of their faces revealed grim expressions. More than their manner, the feelings they projected into the Force were of anger and fear. Gensar was not among their number. These were younger men, who from the feel of it, held only to the keeping of the written commandments of the order. They neither expected nor believed that their Goddess could or would take an active role in their lives.

"Leave this place. You do not belong here." Her voice was utterly calm. The men were among the acolytes of the Temple, she knew, although she could not put names to all of them. "The Dawat approaches, there is not much time for you to leave in safety. Go now."

"No, Lady!" their spokesman answered sharply. "We are here to kill the demon, or failing that, we will prevent you from being shamed."

"You are mistaken. I will not be shamed. This is the will of Jiyooza. Go, before you take upon yourselves Her wrath as well as the fury of her Consort." At this statement, some of the men cast anxious glances at the doors of the temple, but none moved to leave. With an angry scowl, their leader aimed his blaster at Yfarran.

"This cannot be happening! We will not allow it! If we kill you now, you will die pure and unsullied. Then we will destroy this thing that has interrupted the workings of the Temple and all will be well." His eyes were alight with fanaticism.

Yfarran stepped forward, toward their leader and deeper into the circle of armed men. She saw them as if from above, each man an individual well of dark emotions. For an instant, the Goddess felt compassion for them and she spoke once again. "For the last time, children, go, and leave me to my working."

"No! I forbid this!" The man tightened his grip on the blaster. His comrades all raised their weapons and moved a step closer to the priestess.

Yfarran-who-was-Jiyooza brought her arms up above her head, the long blades of her swords just crossing at the tips. In her hands, the weapons were weightless.

"You can try." She smiled, letting the anger of the Goddess free.

***

A great wave of fury, pure and white-hot as a new star, flamed out to Darth Maul, sweeping away any last remnants of caution and control. She fights enemies here in her place! he thought in amazement, breaking into a run. Bright fire seared his blood in place of the raging need. Or perhaps it was his need simply taking a different form, he could no longer tell. Heedlessly, he charged up to the great double doors of the Old Temple of Jiyooza, aware of the strife taking place within even though the massive walls blocked all sound. The doors had been jammed closed, but the impediment did not slow the Sith lord. Maul reached out with the Force and the doors flew open as if blasted asunder.

His priestess danced as if at worship, but the bodies scattered on the floor gave evidence that this was no ordinary service. Some foolish fighters still tried to close with her, seeking to pierce that protective curtain of metal with their weapons. Maul ignored them, for they were already dead, although they did not as yet know it. Their fates were written clearly in the Force. Instead he turned his attention on those who had been clever enough to hang back on the periphery of the battle. These aimed shots at the priestess from a safe distance. Their heads turned at his intrusion and Maul could feel the sharp gusts of fear flow out from them as they saw him. He drew and ignited his light saber, holding the blade straight away from his body.

The best of them immediately fired bolts of searing energy in his direction. The Force deflected many of them, his light saber the rest. He swept the red-bladed weapon out in a swift stroke, using the single blade to cut down the nearest two fighters in one blow. The ten remaining men moved to surround him, leaving five warriors to deal with the priestess on their own. Although they feared him, superior numbers gave them courage to attack as a group, and Maul could sense a kind of mad fanaticism behind them as well, which lessened their fear of death. Those who had circled behind him began at once to fire on him, heedless of striking their own if they missed. Unlike the priestess, Maul did not offer them a chance to retreat or surrender. Triggering the second blade on his light saber, he spun smoothly and began to kill them with as much speed and as little wasted effort as possible. His awareness narrowed for a timeless time as he fought, an efficient killing machine, slaying without conscious thought or care.

Maul pulled his blade from the last twitching body, bringing the double-pointed weapon up in a guard position, ready to resume fighting the moment a new enemy presented himself. The room was still. The only other living occupant was the priestess, who like himself, stood surrounded by a ring of the fallen, her long swords red and wet. She met his eyes, brought up the swords toward her head in a salute, then swept them down in a blurred motion that sent the blood sheeting off the blades in a bright spray of crimson. That done, she held them at her sides. Fire raging in his veins from the fight, he eyed her weapons and turned toward her, prepared to fight anew.

Through the haze of battle her voice reached him like a breath of cool air. "Well done, brave Consort. Well done."

He paused, blinked in surprise. Had her voice been… approving? He took a step toward her, prepared to feel her fear and anger, ready to fight for what he now needed so badly.

She lifted the swords and he tensed, but to his astonishment, she stepped back, turned and plunged the blades into the altar, released them and faced him with empty hands and a calm expression on her face. "So angry," she murmured to him. "You have much rage inside, but there is more to you than that. So much more. Weavings in only one or two colors become boring. Come, let me show you."

Maul stared at her, breathing rapidly, his heart beating faster now than when he had been fighting. As if against his will, he deactivated his light saber and returned it to its place on his belt. The room felt unbearably hot and he shed his outer robe and let it fall to lie in a heap on the floor. He took a step toward her, then another and another, closing the distance slowly, his feelings of caution overwhelmed by need. In his ears he could hear soft music which seemed to fill the room with the song of fine crystals singing. The sound eased him a little.

She moved toward him as well, slow step by step until she was within reach. She was tall for a human female, taller than himself. He caught her scent, a faint whiff of incense clung to her thin robe, and the smell of salty sweat lay on her skin, but there was nothing of fear, not in her scent nor in her aura. She was cool brightness, bracing and keen as the edges of her swords. Understanding finally penetrated his battle haze and he knew beyond doubting that she did not intend to fight him. The realization was so unexpected that he stood motionless for some seconds, trying to grasp the import. She was not going to run away, or scream, or fight. She was waiting. For him.

"What will you show me?" he asked finally, his voice soft and strained with the effort of holding himself together.

She took a last step to close the small distance between them, so that they were just touching. He reached out at once and drew her to him, the warmth of her body both soothing and stoking the fire in his blood. He gripped her tightly and she melded herself to him willingly. His senses expanded as they did during meditation and he became aware of her life-energy and the complex weavings of the Force which wove through their lives and drove her needs and his own together.

"Completeness."

He could no longer tell which voice uttered the answer to his question as they moved in their own private dance.

* * *

Yfarran woke to a view of the high, many-arched vault of the temple. She was alive and well, lying on the floor amid a pile of fabric. The body of her dark partner nestled close against her right side, his head above her own. His even breathing stirred her cheek, his right hand lay cupped possessively against her stomach. Pushing herself up on her elbow caused the room to swim dangerously for a moment and she closed her eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass. When things felt somewhat steadier she opened them again and looked down at her Consort. His eyes, now entirely yellow-gold, gazed up at her calmly, drained for the moment of anger. She touched his face gently, skirting the short horns at his temples and tracing the designs of his tattoos.

"Light-sider. Your touch should pain me." He closed his eyes. "It does not." His tone held wonder.

She traced down his throat. The designs continued on the front of his chest. They were sharp and not entirely symmetrical, splashes of red and black like blades stacked at random. "You have my name. You have all of me."

"I do. Yfarran. Priestess to the warrior-goddess who is unafraid of the Dark."

"These patterns..."

"Yes?"

"You were not born with them?"

"No. They are Sith tattoos. I took them into myself when I became what I am now."

She continued following the markings down his chest, over his ribs and abdominal muscles, past his hips and lower still. "Even here? You are very brave." Her voice was warm and her hands kept exploring in a way that sent the half-quenched fire surging through his veins anew.

Maul sucked in a quick breath, snorted out a short laugh, reaching to caress her arms and stroke her pale hair where it cascaded like silver ribbons over his ebony skin. "Careful. You will rouse me."

"That's all right. I'm not tired." She looked at him happily, silver-grey eyes dancing. "Unless you are…?"
Growling with delight, he caught her to him and proceeded to prove that he was not the least bit tired.

* * *

Maul woke with Yfarran curled in his arms, her body warm against his own. Scattered about in the temple were the cold forms of the slain, a strange company of witnesses for their nuptials, he thought. Not even the Sith celebrated their unions in such a way. Yfarran's warrior-goddess would appreciate the balance of this, he mused, patting her stomach thoughtfully. In the midst of death, many of my taking, new life, one of my making. The thought sent a surge of pride through him, followed almost on the instant with the crashing realization of what would happen if his Lord were to discover it. There can be only two of us, he thought with a sharp stab of fear. His emotions brought Yfarran awake at once, the priestess springing up into a lithe crouch, ready to fight the enemies she was sure were attacking. She looked around in confusion when her eyes took in the silent, empty space of the temple.

"Where are they? There is no one here but ourselves."

Maul rose to his feet and drew her up beside him, then stooped to hand her one of her robes. "Dress quickly and go. You must leave here at once." He swept up his own garments and shrugged into an ebony under-shirt.

"Go? Return to my Temple you mean?" Yfarran looked at him questioningly.

"No!" He spoke sharply, then in a quieter tone he continued, "you must take yourself away, leave this world and lose yourself among the planets of the Rim, on the edges of Known Space, beyond the reach of the Republic."

"Leave here? But, why? What danger threatens?"

"My master is the danger. There are only two Lords of the Sith at any one time, Yfarran Dun, and I am apprenticed to a powerful Master. He sent me forth solely to appease my physical needs; he will not be pleased by this day's work." Maul placed his hand on her stomach and Yfarran looked down in surprise.

"What?! So quickly?" Placing her hand over his own, she closed her eyes and sent her thoughts inward, finding there a tiny spark. "The Goddess' will."

"Or the Force," Maul agreed. "Whichever, they have left us all in danger. The child will have the Force, and my Master plans - a war. You must not hide yourself among the Jedi! Avoid them at all costs." His thoughts bled red-tinged darkness as he thought of the fighting to come and the revenge they would take against their enemies. Although Yfarran could not entirely read his mind, his emotions left her no doubt that the future would be perilous indeed.

Yfarran nodded, thinking hard. "I must leave anyway - the Goddesses' priestess must not be seen to be pregnant. The priests and others will not understand. There are many in the temple who will think as these did." She gestured at the bodies of the fallen. "I would be in danger from my own if I stayed."

"Then go. Hide yourself well. Do not seek for me, nor try to contact me. There is no way that would be safe from my Master."

"He would kill our child, then?"

"Kill… or worse. I chose this path of my own will. The child would have no choice. As long as it lives and is independent of him, it is a potential threat."

"And you, will you be safe?"

Maul chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. "Safe enough. I will use certain techniques to bury your memory. He will know I found you and purged my needs, that is all. He will assume I killed you afterward, to keep my existence a secret. It is what he would have done, what he expects me to do."

Yfarran shivered at Maul's calm assessment. "Will I ever…?"

He cut her off. "Go now and hide yourself." He drew something from under his robes, pressed it into her hand. "For now I am apprentice to my Master. When all has been done according to his vision, the Sith will rule this galaxy. Someday my master will be gone and I will be Lord in his place. When that time comes, I will seek you and the child and you will take your rightful place by my side. I will take the child as my apprentice and he will inherit all in his turn. Until then, hide in patience." He pulled her close and kissed her hard, then released her, turned and walked swiftly away. Soon the outer gloom beyond hid him from sight. Yfarran watched in silence, hands pressed over her heart. In moments she was alone.

With a sigh bordering on a sob, she looked at the thing clutched in her hand. It was a smallish bag or purse of black cloth. Inside the purse a number of small items rattled. She opened the bag and shook it gently. A mound of gems rolled out into the palm of her hand; a planet's ransom of rare jewels. Enough to buy a fast ship from someone who would keep no records. Enough to hide away on the edges of civilization. Enough to wait for the will of the Goddess to be done. She clutched the gems tightly, then poured them back into the purse with a murmured prayer. Wrapping herself in her robes, she left the Old Temple without a backward glance.

***

"You look well, Lord Maul," Sidious' silky voice purred as his apprentice approached and knelt before him.

"I am, my Lord. All has been done according to your will."

"You left no traces?"

"None, my Lord." Maul's voice held finality.

Sidious nodded. "Well done, my apprentice. Are you ready now to deal with the Jedi? My plans proceed as foreseen."

Maul raised his horned head to look gladly up at his dark master, eyes filled with red fire. The Force sang with his eagerness for battle. "Yes, my Lord. At your command."

***

Crunch. The sound of his body settling with strange lightness for having fallen such a long way, onto a surface that felt like coarse gravel. Maul sprang up into a crouch to stare around at the landscape, then did a double-take. His lower body was still attached to his upper. That young Jedi cut me in half, I know he did! So why am I now whole? His range of vision was limited. The place where he had landed seemed to be in night-phase. It did not look at all like the bottom of the energy-well of Naboo's Theed palace. Softly rolling hills undulated away from this spot, their pale covering of crushed stone glimmering faintly in the low light.

Maul turned his gaze upward. There were no moons overhead, nor stars, so the source of the dim illumination was mysterious. Ahh, that Jedi has thrown me somewhere. I was overconfident. Next time, I shall not hesitate… His fingers closed on the rocks beneath his hands, they grated together in a strange, brittle way. Curiously, the Sith lord lifted a handful to give them closer inspection. His eyes narrowed. They were not stones at all, but fragments of bone, some yellowed and fragile with age, some clean and white and sharp. He was ankle-deep in the remnants of the dead, their calcified remains covering the land as far as he could see.

Tossing away the shards in his hand, he hiked purposefully up the nearest hill. Topping the rise he stopped short, his feet sending a spill of bony fragments sailing into the black depths of a great chasm that split the land like a canyon, or perhaps the bed of a dry ocean, since he could not discern the farther edge. A chill exhalation from the deep caressed his body. Nostrils flaring, he breathed in the cold, dry air.

The Sea of Night! he thought in slow wonder, turning his head back and forth to take in the full view. The ancient writings described this place, but only the most advanced adepts would attempt to travel here in spirit. I don't remember preparing the meditations to take this journey… His musings ground to a halt as he looked out over the vast abyss. Slowly, an unwelcome conclusion dawned in his mind. I'm dead. I didn't meditate to come here in spirit, I am here! All that is left of me, that is, he thought ruefully. With care, he began to pace along the lip of the canyon, his thoughts spinning faster and faster.

What am I to do now? My body is ruined and I am here. He cast about fruitlessly for some sign to direct his wanderings. To his right lay the pale, bone-covered steppes, to his left the dry sea filled with darkness. I was taught that when we Sith perish, we add our energies to the Dark Side in proper payment for the strength it lent us while we lived. Although the Sea of Night was certainly dark enough, it did not have that raging, fear-fraught feeling that stamped the presence of the Dark Side.

"…!" The call echoed tenuously. Not discernible words, but a call nonetheless. A call that had a pleasant feel connected to it in his memories. Maul began to pace up the chasm, following the faint summons. Gradually it strengthened, giving him a better idea of its direction. He broke into a long-legged trot, moving steadily up another rise in the land. And again it came, stronger still and to his left. Boldly he plunged away from the rim of the Sea and into the darkness. Ahead, light glimmered, warm and real, not the cool bone-light of this dark place. He kept onward and the light grew into a window or portal, offering a view into another world entirely. Now certain of the identity of his summoner, he reached the portal and stepped through without hesitation, into a simply-furnished room and stood before the woman who sat cross-legged upon a mat in the center of the floor. She looked up and her pale eyes warmed in welcome.

"Aodha!" she cried, "you are here at last!" Then she took in his shimmering outline and her expression became sad and still.

"All that is of me is here, Yfarran, my lady. Even at the verge of the Sea of Night I could hear you call my true name, and so I have come."

"Your name came to me last evening in my dreaming, and I have meditated on you, as I felt the Goddess commanded me. Oh, my love, you are…" Yfarran stretched out her hands toward his spectral form.

"Dead? Yes, slain in fair combat with the Jedi." Maul tossed his horned head and his eyes grew hot and bright at the memory. "It was such a good fight! My one regret is that I'll not have another like it." He smiled at Yfarran. "Do not worry about me. You and the child are well, aren't you? You will carry on in my place." At Yfarran's fallen expression, he moved forward a pace and looked closely at her. She seemed healthy and well-cared-for in this refuge she had chosen.

Her belly was swollen in the last stages of pregnancy, and everything appeared normal, but her face was drawn with worry and the emotions she projected into the Force caused him to ask, "What is wrong?" A dawning suspicion. "You were calling me - you would not have done so unless the situation were dire. What has happened? Are you in danger?" Frustration grew in him. If his mate and child were being menaced, how could he protect them in his current state?

Yfarran shook her head. "No, no, I'm not in danger. We are safe here, with my clanfolk, on a world on the Outer Rim. I knew they would protect me, and foster our child when it arrived. Our child…" her voice trailed off as if she were suddenly unable to continue.

Maul looked at her rounded stomach. "Something is wrong? With him?"

"She… grows well," Yfarran began haltingly.

"She?!" Maul stared in amazement. "She! I had been so certain I would sire a male heir. Still…" he shook away the momentary distraction. "She is healthy you say? So what…"

"She has no spirit!" Yfarran cried in anguish, hands pressed to her stomach. "I've searched and searched, but I've felt no spirit-spark, nothing!"

"No spirit? How can that be? Every child has a spirit, at least those near to birthing."

"I know that!" Yfarran cried, then continued in a softer voice. "I know that. The clan healers touch the weavings of the Goddess in their own way. They say this happens sometimes - that spirits ready for physical existence may avoid a child if they do not want to live its life." Tears ran unnoticed down Yfarran's cheeks, dripped onto her hands. Her voice sank to a whisper. "If a spirit does not enter the child soon, it will die soon after birth. There's nothing the healers can do."

"Avoid my child? Because it is mine?!" Maul was offended. He glared hotly away as if he would scorch the too-finicky spirits with the laser fire of his eyes. He paced the room restlessly, his feet making no noise on the floor, striding through a low table without noticing it. His thoughts churned along little-used paths in his mind. The Sith made scant study of the matters of birth and how a spirit came to occupy a child, but he understood the gravity of the situation. His heir would perish without that vital life-spark and Palpatine would inherit all without a struggle. The thought was maddening. Think, think, you fool! There must be something, some way! To help order his thoughts, he began to speak aloud.

"All spirits return to the Force, no matter which part, Dark or Light, it is all one in the end. All spirits return here." He waved a hand through the air to indicate his own current disembodied state. "Some are always available to inhabit the new lives that come into being. Both Jedi and Sith acknowledge that some spirits return again and again, to gain new insight or wisdom." Maul bit at his lower lip, although the sensation it produced was so faint he could scarcely feel it. "She will have the Force. By all rights, our child should have a Jedi spirit, must have one!"

"But, what if none feel that they can?" Yfarran's sad tone stung him with a sudden sense of urgency and guilt.

"Rrgh. Cowards, the lot of them," he growled darkly. He stood in silence for several minutes, then his expression changed, becoming thoughtful. "I know of one who was no coward, no coward at all," he murmured.

"But of what use is that knowledge?"

Maul smiled, the effect on his face was so shocking that Yfarran had to restrain a gasp. "Well, this one I know just happens to be missing his body." He gestured to her. "Stay calm, and stay here. I know of a spirit that will be perfect for our child. I will return as quickly as I can with him."

"Him?!" Yfarran gazed up at the Sith lord in surprise. "But… a Jedi spirit? Will he be willing to help us?"

"Willing? Perhaps. The Jedi always have been noble fools, this one more noble than most. But he will help us save our child, even if I must persuade him. I mastered him once, I can do so again." He stooped to brush Yfarran's cheek with his fingers, she started at feeling the faint, cool sensation. "Wait for me. I will not be long." Rising, he looked about, like a hunting canid seeking a scent, then turned and flowed silently away through a dark portal.

***

Of all the many aspects of the living Force, this has to be one of the most pleasant, thought Qui-Gon Jinn, looking out over what seemed to be a broad field of waving grasses in many colors. The bright air hummed with life and a warm breeze caressed his cheek. He sighed, a habit rendered superfluous by the fact that he no longer needed to breathe, but a comforting gesture notwithstanding. A good place to tarry for a time, to reflect on my life, to gain the broad perspective that being one with the Force provides. The breeze carried the scent of growing things.

Would I change any of my actions? He wondered, sitting at peace in the deep grass. No, I would not. The conclusion came simply, without pride or shame.

Obi-Wan and Anakin… somehow all will be well. In the turnings of the Force, we will meet again in wholeness. He could not perceive time in the physical universe very well from his current vantage point, but he felt without a doubt that his loved ones would complete their life-journeys successfully.

Something moved, out on the horizon of the plateau on which this savanna existed. A dark dot of motion, which grew, slowly and steadily as it came toward him. Patiently, Qui-Gon waited. Here in the Force, nothing happened without reason or meaning. The dark shape gradually became noticeably humanoid as it approached, moving with long strides that seemed somehow labored, as if the person had walked a long distance and had become tired. Three paces away, the man halted.

"Here you are at last, Jedi Master. I have found you." Qui-Gon did not recognize the figure that made this proclamation. He stood before the Jedi, panting heavily as if he'd been working hard, this in spite of the fact that given his state of being, he did not need to breathe, either. The man wore grey robes which hung in worn tatters on his compact frame. His skin was warm brown, marked on the face with the caste-tattoos favored by certain species. His head bore a ring of short horns. He might have been a Zabrak, of the same species as the Master Eeth Koth of the Jedi Council. His eyes were bright gold and filled with keen light.

"Do I know you, Sir Knight?" Qui-Gon asked politely, rising to greet his visitor. This was the first being to present himself in the shape of a living person that Qui-Gon had seen since his arrival here. Now that he was so close, the Jedi could feel something familiar about him. As if he had known him before, somehow, somewhere. A Jedi? Someone I met once when I was a young padawan? he wondered.

"You've forgotten me already?" The man asked in surprise, then he looked around at his surroundings.

"Perhaps this place makes you forget? After what it took for me to get here, I can understand how you could lose your memories…" He looked back to Qui-Gon and smiled. "As for me being a Knight, Master Jedi, I did not think you could ever mistake me for such…"

As Qui-Gon observed his visitor, looking him up and down, a hunch grew in his mind. The man's robes were grey, but they had that look as if they were faded from their original dark coloring. He moved a step closer to inspect the face of the stranger. His brown skin likewise showed under markings that, like the robes, had faded. Qui-Gon reached out to touch the man's face, tracing the faint overlay of the tattoos that still remained, spectral reminders of the past. The touch confirmed his suspicions, the Force flowing between them, carrying snatches of memory. Dropping his hand, he backed away.

"You - you're the one I fought on Naboo! The Sith Lord!" Qui-Gon could not believe his eyes and did not want to believe the knowledge the Force gave him. "What are you doing here?!" He could not keep the astonishment out of his voice.

The Sith made a short, polite bow. "Searching for you." He straightened to look directly at the Jedi. "While I lived, I was called…" he hesitated in momentary confusion. "Strange, my Sith name seems to have faded along with my robes." He shrugged, then continued, "call me Aodha, if you will. I neglected introductions at our last meeting."

The Jedi stared in amazement for long moments, then recalled his manners. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn. Tell me, Aodha of the Sith, how did you get here?" To Qui-Gon's knowledge, no Dark Side adept or Sith could have reached this level of existence in the Force; it was simply impossible for beings steeped in the Dark Side to have tolerated a moment in this place. At least, that was what he'd been taught. But here was his slayer, standing before him as if it were the most natural thing in the galaxy for a Sith to pay a social call on a Jedi opponent.

"I walked. Or rather, climbed, I should say. From the brink of the Sea of Night, where your young apprentice had sent me after I fought you, up mountain ranges that have no name that I know, across the desert, and up yet again, to this plateau. I knew you had to be here, I could feel you across the many leagues. I only had to follow that feeling." Aodha looked down and lifted a hanging shred of his outer robes, fingering the threadbare fabric gently. "The desert was hot, it seems to have faded the color out of this."

Qui-Gon looked at his one-time enemy with deeper amazement. Somehow, this former Lord of the Sith had managed to haul his spirit up levels that by rights should have taken him many lifetimes to advance. That he had not escaped the journey unscathed was no surprise; that he had survived the journey at all was… a miracle. Either the Force held him in its favor, or there was more to the young man than he'd previously suspected. "Now that you have found me, what next?"

Aodha started, as if suddenly recalling something important. "You must come with me!"

"Go with you?" Qui-Gon crossed his arms over his chest and frowned slightly. "Go where?"

"To my Lady. Our child needs help." Aodha's face showed his concentration as he fought to recall the urgent memories which had driven him on his quest.

"You have a child?" Qui-Gon found that he had not quite exhausted his supply of astonishment. "You fought a duel when you knew you had a child?!"

The Sith waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. "No regrets for that. I was bound to my Master and nothing would have turned me from my course. I thought my child would be safe, but I was wrong. She needs you. You are the only one I know who can help. The only one I could reach. That is why I had to find you." He stepped toward the Jedi, making a 'follow me' gesture, then swayed and sagged to his knees in the grass. Muttering with annoyance at his weakness, he tried to rise, but failed and sank back, breathing hard.

Qui-Gon knelt beside him, caught him by the shoulders. "You fool, you should not have come here, this place will kill you!"

The Sith frowned at him for a moment, then burst into peals of laughter. Although he spoke no words, the Jedi could sense clearly how ridiculous Aodha found that warning. Finally, he managed to say, between chuckles, "What happens, Master Qui-Gon Jinn, when you die twice?" Getting his mirth under control, he returned to his former course of thought. "My child!" he gasped, his voice weaker than it had been before.

Qui-Gon sighed deeply. The last thing he'd expected to be doing in the afterlife was helping the person who had killed him, but the Sith had unknowingly touched the very thing that had gotten him into so much trouble while he had lived. That instinct to aid the less fortunate was still with him. If anything, the impulse was even stronger now. Oh, it is a good thing the Council cannot see or hear this, he thought with a mixture of chagrin and amusement. Well, I don't suppose it can hurt to have a look, before he fades away entirely into the Force. It isn't the child's fault that she has a Sith for a sire.

Gripping Aodha's right arm, Qui-Gon looped it over his own broad shoulders and helped him to his feet. The man in grey leaned against him without protest. "Come on then, show me where she is and I'll see what I can do."

Aodha pointed with his left arm, away over the savanna. "She is that way, I feel." The yellow eyes closed. "I do not think I can bear another journey across the desert." Indeed the Sith felt somehow lighter, as if his sojourn in the Force were draining the substance out of him. Qui-Gon was not sure if he could have existed for much longer on the plateau itself.

"Don't give up yet. Share her feeling with me, and we'll go to her quickly, without crossing the desert."
"Yes." Aodha nodded. With an effort of will he opened his mind to Qui-Gon, sharing with him that thread of the Force that tied him to Yfarran and their unborn child. He also unintentionally shared his memories of the journey he had taken in search of the Jedi.

It took all the control Qui-Gon had to suppress his reaction. The Sith had understated the ordeal by several orders of magnitude, and had reached his goal thanks to a stubborn purity of purpose. Now his energy was all but spent and Qui-Gon felt a sense of urgency push him into motion.

"This way," he said, striding forward. His companion followed his lead obediently, accepting his support. The bright thread in the Force led them to a place where the air shimmered gently, rippling like the surface of a pond under the wind. Qui-Gon stepped through, into a softly-lit room occupied by a pregnant young woman who lay sleeping on a low bed against a wall.

"She seems well," Qui-Gon said to Aodha as he scanned her quickly. "She and her child are both healthy…"

"The child's body is healthy enough," the Sith agreed, his voice hoarse and soft, "but she was untenanted, empty of spirit." He pulled free of the Jedi, stepped to Yfarran's bed and sank down by her side to stroke his spectral hand across her stomach. His mouth pulled into a frown of pain. "She still is. Empty. A hollow shell."

Qui-Gon knelt beside him to perform practically the same gesture, moving his hands delicately over the woman's body, lingering over the womb. "This is almost unheard of," he said quietly. He glanced at Aodha's unhappy face. "What did you think I could do for her?"

"Do?! I thought you could… help… somehow." The Sith's eyes widened as he tried to recall the exact plan that had sent him plunging through the Force in search of his one-time enemy. "I… I don't remember exactly. What I had intended." He uttered a short, harsh laugh, then shook his head in disgust. "I am pathetic! I had thought you might be able to put a spirit into her, since you were a Jedi Master and better versed in the ways of the Light Side techniques than I." He stared at Qui-Gon hotly, but his dire expression held no anger, only sorrow. "But - you don't know, do you? My journey was futile."

He turned his gaze upon Yfarran's sleeping form. "I swore an oath that I would save our child. But I do not know what else to do. If the knowledge is beyond you, Master Qui-Gon, then…" He stopped speaking and closed his eyes, sitting hunched as if tying to shield himself from blows. A small, wry smile touched his mouth. "Ha. I had thought we Sith had learned all there was to know about pain. We were wrong. I could tell them now that this pain-of-the-heart I am feeling is far worse than any physical agony they could inflict."

"Don't give in to despair, Aodha." Qui-Gon spoke quietly, his thoughts racing in search of a solution.

"We've still got some time, but it is not as if I can just seize a spirit out of the aether and thrust it into your child."

Aodha snorted. "They are not so easy to come by, anyway. The only spirits I saw in all my travels have been you and me." He lifted a hand, turned it over and observed it dispassionately. It was obviously more translucent. "Soon it will just be yourself."

Knowledge tugged at Qui-Gon, as if the scattered threads of his thoughts had suddenly woven together to form a complete cloth. "Yes, that's it!" At his companion's startled expression he added. "I know what needs to be done now."

"You do? Tell me!"

"I do not need proof that you are brave - I saw that when we fought, and I have seen ample evidence of it now."

"You need me to fight someone?" The man in grey gave the Jedi a look of surprise. He sat up as if preparing to move at Qui-Gon's command.

"In a spiritual sense only, my young friend. I need you to put yourself into her body and fill it with your life-essence." The Jedi pointed at Yfarran's rounded stomach.

"Me?!"

"Yes. I didn't say it would be easy, but you have already proven that you are capable of anything you put your heart and mind to, haven't you? You couldn't have reached my place in the Force without that strength. It will serve you well, now, this one last time."

Aodha stared at him unhappily. "If I knew how to do that, I would have done so before! Do you think I cared that much for my life that I would not have given it up at once? I'm a Sith! I have taken no studies in how to do the thing you ask!" He threw up his hands in frustration.

"It is not that difficult. All it takes is your consent. Are you willing to try?"

Aodha who had been Darth Maul sat back and thought for a long minute. Now that he was put to it, he could think of any one of a hundred reasons why he would not want to hazard himself in this way, not the least of which was that he hardly felt the soul of a Sith to be a good choice to power the spirit of a baby girl. But none of the reasons held any weight when compared with his vow to Yfarran. Wordlessly, he nodded.

"What must I do?"

"Touch her." The Jedi Master nodded at the sleeping woman. Aodha put out a careful hand and placed it on Yfarran's stomach, then glanced at Qui-Gon. "Not outside, touch the child herself, inside." His voice was encouraging. "Go on, you can't hurt her. You need to feel her life."

"She has life?" asked Aodha, probing inward with his hands, clenching his teeth in concentration. To his surprise, his fingers slid through Yfarran's flesh without resistance, almost as if he were parting the lightest of curtains. Dimly, through his intent focus, he heard Qui-Gon's voice.

"Yes, she does. Life from the Force. Find it and touch it."

"So you say. I don't feel… wait…" Something tickled his awareness, a tiny bright thread of sensation, a whisper of the Force like the music of chiming gems, so tenuous it threatened to elude his grasp. Without a moment's thought, he flung himself after the thread, found it and grasped it firmly. It was unexpectedly strong, pulling him -somewhere - with a jolt. He jumped, kicked out, blinked his eyes in surprise. A soft, red-tinged darkness surrounded him, soothing to his vision. All was warm, pulsing to a gentle rhythm. I'm in my child? Looking through her eyes? he wondered in surprise. This is so strange, and yet, I had forgotten how comfortable this is. Perhaps I'll just sleep for a little… With a fluid sigh, he curled up and relaxed into the warmth.

Yfarran woke and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. That's odd; I thought there was a man in here, standing beside me? She looked about in confusion. It was not Aodha, and yet, I felt as if he had returned? She placed a hand on her middle, feeling gingerly inward with her mind, stopping when she encountered a familiar presence. He has returned! He's here! "Oh, my love, you kept your word," she murmured softly, placing her hands over her stomach.

***

"Well, here she is at last, hale and hearty after all the worry she put us through!" Great-Aunt Mishola cried in triumph as she wrapped the wriggling infant in a soft cloth and held her up. The other birthing women of the clan laughed and chattered softly with relief and began to tidy up the area with quiet efficiency.

"See, I told you she'd have a spirit in time for her arrival, didn't I?" chuckled Mishola, stroking the baby's head of fuzzy hair. "And so she does! Bright as a star and strong. The Goddess provides." Reaching out, she placed the baby on Yfarran's chest. "Here's your daughter. She's gotten a good start on her hair, although the color is a little unusual. Not like you, Yfarran, you were bald as an egg for months."

"Yes, the Goddess provides indeed," Yfarran said softly, stroking the baby's tan cheek with her fingers. The little one opened her amber-gold eyes and gazed at Yfarran for a moment with that unfocused intensity that the newborn had, then she yawned, closed her eyes and snuggled closer against her mother's breast.

Yfarran held her gently, feeling the threads of the Goddess' weaving wrap them both protectively. All will be well, she thought to her child. You will grow up in freedom, neither the Jedi nor your cruel Master shall have you, and you will live to see your enemies fade away like nightmare phantoms. This we swear to you, Jiyooza and I.

"Yfarran, did you hear me?" Mishola's voice penetrated Yfarran's concentration, pulling her back to the real world.

"Your pardon, Auntie, I was daydreaming a little, I think. What did you ask me?"

"Well, you are entitled to some rest after all that work, my dear, but your child needs a name. What will you call her?"

"Aed I name her, after the fire-spirits. Aed Dun." The name came out easily, as if she'd always known it.

"You give her the name of someone who will have an adventurous life," said her great-aunt. "Do you See that for her?"

"Oh, yes. The Goddess weaves for her in the brightest of colors. She will not be bored, my dear one. The Goddess will see to that." Yfarran kissed the top of Aed's wild-haired head and joined her daughter in contented sleep.

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