DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).
It was like being hit by a hurricane, sending a storm of shattered glass shards amidst vaporized rock. Qui-Gon heard a brief chorus of agonized screams as he was slammed back, into the marble railing. Slivers of pain shot through his rib cage.
And then there was silence, except for the pattering of falling rubble.
He shook his head a little, eyes watering and blurred by the dust. "Saleil?" he choked. He pushed himself painfully onto his hands and knees and swayed back and forth, still dazed. A faint groan reached his ears. "Saleil?"
He blinked and the fog on his eyes began to melt. Saleil's slim hand locked around his larger one as she coughed roughly. Her dead-white face was cut by flying glass, leaking bright orange-red blood like tears on her cheeks. Her graying dark hair was sprinkled with dust, and her silver gown hung like a shroud on her. But then, he thought wryly, he probably didn't look much better.
He slipped an arm around her waist and hauled her to her feet, heading back into the doorway from the balcony. His boots crunched on broken glass from the shattered windows.
The inside of the room looked like a tornade had hit it. Furniture, blasted and burned, was shattered all over. Several dazed-looking Aladell were sprawled on the floor, burned and bleeding.
There was a clattering noise, and four armored guards entered. Though their faces were covered in the thick facial plates, Qui-Gon could sense deep confusion from them. Their captain snapped to attention. "My lady-" he began.
Saleil brushed a strand of hair from her forehead with a deep sigh. "Captain, seal off the grounds and begin sweeps of the area. No one leaves the palace."
"At once, my lady," the captain replied stiffly.
The queen glanced at Qui-Gon with a look of growing irritation on her bleeding face. "And where's that Jedi?" she growled.
Not waiting for an answer, she dropped to her knees beside a young man, who was clutching his bleeding abdomen and moaning. She stripped off her sheer robe and began to tear into strips.
As Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around a dazed elderly woman, clad in a golden tunic and pants, and began to draw her into a sitting position, Risoin burst into the room. He looked around, his eyes widening in horror at the sight. "What happened here?" he asked, starting toward the kneeling Sovereign. "I heard an explosion-"
"You can't-" one of the guards protested, raising his blaster.
"Let him in," Qui-Gon interjected, tearing a strip from his sleeve and mopping blood from the woman's forehead. He winced a little as she moaned. "It's okay," he murmured.
Fury began to seep from Risoin as he surveyed the damage to the hall, the injured Aladell littering the floor like soldiers on a battlefield, the shattered furniture. "A short-range explosive," he announced decisively.
"Where's Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked as one of the bodyguards carried his charge out of the room, leaving him wiping the blood from his sleeves and tunic.
Risoin scowled. "I don't know. Somewhere around the grounds."
Qui-Gon's bloodied face flushed slightly, but a poke in the shoulder from Saleil stopped him from replying harshly. He stormed past the guards and into the cool, high corridors to find Obi-Wan Kenobi.
"Obi-Wan?" he called loudly, his pace rising to a jog. "Obi-Wan?"
He did not see the shadowy figure who slipped past him and down into the gardens, a dark-painted blaster in one gloved hand...
The gardens, shrouded in darkness, had a mutedly-colorful array of night-blooming flowers. They hung from the balconies and the benches, in the ever-winding paths. Their fragrance filled the air, slowly easing the tension from Obi-Wan's aching muscles, still sore from the hard workout.
Here, he thought, smiling to himself. Risoin had no interest in the gardens, night or day. A little solitude, a little privacy... a little peace.
BOOM!
Obi-Wan tumbled off the bench as the ground shivered, and the deafening roar of an explosion reached him. From within the palace...
He stumbled upright, wincing at the dozens of tiny needlelike thorns that had embedded themselves in his lower back, giving him an unpleasant prickling sensation every time he moved. He began to stumble toward the dining hall, where light was shining unevenly through a sharp-edged blast hole in every window.
CRACK!
Obi-Wan stopped dead in his tracks, alert and silent. His blue eyes roved over the bushes and shrubs, watching for anything that moved. The formerly pleasant gardens took on an air of silent menace, as if their dark obscurity could hide someone. An assassin.
Slowly, Obi-Wan pulled the lightsaber from his belt and ignited it, the bright blue beam sending an eerie glow through the moonlight gardens. "Who's there?" he demanded, hoping that whoever was there didn't hear the faint waver in his changing voice. "Show yourself."
There was a flash of light, and the crackle of a fire within one of the bushes, golden light contrasting against blue. Obi-Wan's lightsaber shut off as it fell from his fingers. He yanked his cloak off and began to beat at the growing flames, ignoring the smell of burning.
As the flickers died away, Obi-Wan saw the huddled, burned form of a black-clad man, a charred hole in the middle of his chest. As the young Jedi stared at the dead assassin, a comment of Qui-Gon's flashed through his mind, "The best assassins are expendable ones."