Aragorn dove behind the TIE fighter as blaster bolts rained down on them. Legolas came from the other side, knife in hand and looking woefully inadequate. The Ranger cursed whoever decided that they couldn’t wander around with weapons, but was still glad they had missed Legolas’ knife.
Peeking around the metal ball, Aragorn was surprised to see Luke still in the middle of the clearing. Davra crouched behind the Jedi, picking off attackers with his blaster while Luke deflected blaster bolts with some kind of light sword.
Then two bodies slammed into his, and rolled away from the impact. Glancing around, he saw Will and Jack on the ground, out of breath but unharmed. Legolas caught his eye and pointed into the forest, making a highly suggestive motion with his knife. Aragorn nodded, and Legolas crept away into the undergrowth.
Faintly, he could hear Davra screaming something from his position behind Luke, but Aragorn was unsure what it was. Either way, it didn’t seem to have any effect on their attackers, so the logical, battle-oriented side of him discarded it as irrelevant even as he cast around for something to use as a weapon.
He needn’t have bothered.
A queer feeling began to unfold in his belly, and he pounded the ground in fury. “We cannot just leave them, Tarnon!”
“They will come to no harm.” It was the barest thread of a whisper, nothing more than a breath in his ear.
“What reason do I have to trust you?” Aragorn hissed, fighting to keep the world substantial.
“Only that you have no other choice.”
And they were all there, standing in a void within the forest, Legolas with knife raised as if in battle. And before them, an old man in brown robes with a face like the boy Luke had seen in the pool, stood with arms folded. “I have seen all I wish to see here. You will take no one with you.”
The others breathed a sigh of relief, but Aragorn only glared suspiciously at Tarnon. Perhaps that was why he saw it – or perhaps he was meant to see it. But for just a moment, Tarnon flickered.
For just a moment, he became someone else.
A harried man, white hair floating about his face as if he had neither the time nor the inclination to tame it, knelt in front of box filled with wires. He wore a white coat with odd tools peeking out of the pockets, and every movement spoke of the importance of his work. His eyes met Aragorn’s for just a moment before returning to his job, and pity shone in their depths. His mouth moved as if he were trying to speak, but no sound could be heard.
Then he was gone, and Tarnon was as he had been before.
“It is now time for you to move on. Your next world awaits.” A grand gesture showed a glimmer of light, moving steadily toward them.
Just before the pool-being cast them into this new world, Aragorn saw it again. The briefest flicker, and the man was back. His head had dropped forward into his hands, defeat written in his posture.
And then Tarnon was whole again, and he sent them forth into the new world.
END