In which Kylo learns of Rey’s adventure with the Nightfolk, causing him to become Very Unhappy.
The first thing Kylo noticed when Rey came in was the bandage that wrapped her entire upper arm.
He pushed to his feet. “What happened?”
The farmer and his son came in with their beasts, a wave of noise and smell and dust.
“She found some Nightfolk!” the boy said, so excited he was practically bouncing on his feet. “Killed two with that big red sword of hers!”
Rey dropped the armful of junk she carried in the straw. “The Janessi killed the rest.” she said with an air giving credit where credit was due.
Her voice rasped. Kylo stepped closer, studying her more carefully. A bruise banded her throat just under her jaw all the way around, disappearing under her hair. He went still.
“You…found Nightfolk,” he said slowly.
“Down in Trewallan Wash,” the boy put in. “That close!”
“It only seemed fair,” she explained. “Since everyone else was hunting them.”
The rest of what they’d said registered: Two, and the rest. As in, at least four. Maybe more.
No. She couldn’t be that reckless. “You hunted them with the healer? Or with these two?”
“Not with me and Da,” the boy said. “We was way out by the bluffs. Didn’t hear about what-all happened till we brought the mallikin in.”
“Verrannallu came after they were all dead,” Rey said. “Some men with blasters came while I was fighting them.”
“That was Rave Bannik and Deessenn Jinn,” the boy offered. “I heard ’em say they wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”
Kylo gave the boy a forbidding look. Surprisingly enough, he got the hint, ducked his head and scuttled off to help his father.
“They’re the ones you hunted Nightfolk with?” he asked Rey.
She looked at him like he was being dense. “I didn’t hunt them with anybody. When I was covering up your ship, I saw a place I thought they might hide.” She shrugged. “I decided to look, too.”
He ran a hand down his face. Words were beyond him.
She looked puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
“Why didn’t you reach out to me through the bond?”
“I closed my mind.” She gave him an accusing look. “I couldn’t sense anything.”
“Are you insane?” His voice went up. “Do you have a death wish?”
“No.” Her eyes narrowed. “Nobody said they went out in daylight.”
“Then what, exactly, were you hunting?”
At Kylo’s raised voice, the chatter between the boy and his father had abruptly stopped. There were only the creaking calls of the beasts, their snorts, the shuffle of their clawed feet in the straw.
One of Rey’s hands slowly curled into a fist. “I was hunting Nightfolk. Like everyone else here.”
The two farmers appeared behind her, eyes wide and worried.
Ignoring them, Kylo walked up to her. He reached down, jerked his lightsaber from her belt. “If you’re going to be stupid, you don’t carry this.”
She didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. Pure rage blazed in her eyes, seared through the bond. She stood rigid, both fists clenched now, glaring up at him.
“These people saved your life,” she finally said, stabbing a finger back toward the two. “They’ve fed and sheltered us. Now their enemy is attacking them every night. Because of us. Because we’re here. So if trying to help them makes me stupid, then yeah. I’m stupid.”
She turned her back on him, gathered up her junk and stalked off. Kylo followed, brushing past their uncomfortable witnesses. He wouldn’t let her go off in a temper this time. He’d learned that lesson on the Finalizer.
“What are you going to do now?” he said. “Something even more reckless?”
She shot him a venomous look, sat down cross-legged and began sorting through her pile of rubbish.
“Missy…” the man began uneasily.
“Don’t worry, Jaegar,” she said. “We haven’t killed each other yet.”
There was acid in the words, the same words that had brought them so close this morning.
The farmer hesitated, looking between them, then finally tipped his head toward the barn doors, silently urging the boy to follow. It took another threatening look from Kylo before he did.
The doors thumped shut. Rey pointedly turned away, but Kylo could still feel her seething.
“How did you survive so long?” he asked with real wonder.
Picking up this piece of trash and that, fitting them together, she ignored him. This was a new tactic. He was curious how long it would last.
“Did you do the same on Jakku? Go out looking for the greatest danger you could find?”
No response. She fitted a plasteel rod into a sleeve, then fit another sleeve onto the opposite end.
“Oh,” he said. “I forgot about the bombs. Yes, you do go out looking for the greatest danger you can find. Is it to prove to yourself you aren’t afraid? Or maybe only to distract yourself from your fear.”
She slid lengths of shaft into the sleeves, screwed a nut onto the end of the shaft, turned the assembly around and did the same on the other end.
“Now I understand why you were always so quick to try to kill me.” He thought of the first time the Force had shown her to him. Caught in a beam of low, golden sunlight, she sat blinking sleepily—until she laid eyes on him. “Shoot an unarmed man on sight. One who was sitting down, posing no threat.” He shook his head sadly. “Nothing to do with instinct. You’re afraid of me.”
That got a response—not outward, but he sensed a flash of temper from her. She hefted another rod, this one with a knurled protuberance on one end. Carefully angling it, she twisted it into the nut. She picked up a matching rod and screwed it into the other end.
“When you use the Force, you need to know your true motivations,” he said, repeating one of Luke’s lectures. “I can tell you for a fact, fear leads straight to the dark side. You won’t avoid it if you can’t admit you’re afraid.”
Rey laid her handiwork across her knees and ran her hands—blackened with dirt and oil—along it. Standing in one, smooth motion, she hefted it, testing the weight and balance. Setting her feet, she thrust, re-set her grip and thrust again.
A staff, Kylo realized, and began watching critically. She wheeled around, sending the staff’s knurled tip flying with deadly speed. Now this is her preferred weapon.
It gave her reach and power she wouldn’t otherwise have. He suddenly itched to have a practice blade in his hand. He’d like to see how she fared against an experienced fighter. Armed with that staff, he suspected she’d make a formidable opponent.
He’d seen her fight only once without the benefit of the bond—in Starkiller’s forest, before she’d accessed his own skill and experience with the lightsaber. Watching her now, he could see where those awkward jabs and slashes had come from—jabs that had brought her inside his guard. He could’ve easily killed her then, if he hadn’t been trying to simply disarm her. She must’ve felt like she was fighting with only half a weapon, half-crippled and dangerously close to her opponent.
Another thought came to him: She fought the Nightfolk with my lightsaber. Then one more: Without the bond.
Dangerously close. He saw again the bruise around her neck, the bandage on her arm. The fury that boiled up in him caught him by surprise.
Rey must’ve felt it—she glanced at him. Frowning, she turned away again just as quickly, squared off against a post as big around as her waist that supported the barn’s roof, and began sparring with it. The clack and thump of staff on post sounded over the animals’ sleepy noises.
He tried to watch her technique, analyze her strengths and weaknesses, but all he could see were the bruise, the bandage. He heard the way her breath rasped through her injured throat.
Crazy, reckless, idiotic. He wanted to walk over there, ignite his lightsaber and slash that staff back into pieces of junk. Show her just how vulnerable she was.
The hassash appeared on top of one of the mallik pens, raised itself on its six limbs and hissed at Rey. It was close—not quite within range of her staff, but close enough that when she spun on it, it gave an angry screech and leapt down from its perch.
“Keep away from me, you evil thing,” she snarled.
The hassash circled just out of range, gaving a hiss that sounded like metal rasping across metal. Rey circled, too, staff raised for a blow, keeping the creature in front of her.
An idea came to him. Ah, he thought. Much better than slashing her staff apart.
Settling on the ground in front of the barn doors, Kylo reached for the Force.
The barn provided plenty of projectiles; he started with a lump of mallik dung as big around as his fist, sent it hurtling toward her. Rey spun. The staff connected. Bits of dung flew. The hassash took advantage of her distraction. With a chuffing noise, it leapt at her. She swept the staff low. It sprang straight up the air, the staff passing below it with a menacing whoosh.
He lobbed another missile at her, this one a nut from her junk pile. There was a sharp, metallic rap as she batted it aside. Kylo saw the opening. The hassash did, too, darting in from her off side. Its little hands seized her ankle then it sprang away again. Rey’s startled, disgusted shriek rose over its triumphant squeal.
“Point to the hassash,” Kylo said. “It bit you. You’re dead.”
Rey lifted her leg, frantically clawing at the hem of her trousers. When the unmarked skin of ankle and calf came into view, she cursed. The hassash, pumping up and down on its limbs, darted away as she came at it, staff swinging.
Kylo sent a clod of dirt at her from behind. It thumped her between the shoulder blades.
“Point to Kylo,” he said. “You fell for a feint.”
She gave a scream of fury and ran at him, this time.
He expected it. He put his hands down to push himself up, but the hassash beat him to the defense—it scampered between them, leapt onto the onrushing end of her staff and scuttled up it. Rey swung the staff wildly, trying to throw the creature off. Just before the hassash reached her grip, she flung the staff away.
“You’re disarmed,” Kylo said. “Match.”
She panted, her breaths a painful whistle. Sweat stuck wisps of hair to her face and neck. She glared at him, only not cursing him, he suspected, because she didn’t have the wind for it.
“Anger leads to the dark side, Rey,” he said.
She gave him an I-hate-you look.
“So does hate.” He shook his head. “Look at you. Turning you wouldn’t even be a challenge.”
He could feel the dark rising again, though the hassash’s presence had already warned of it. The creature crouched on Rey’s staff where it lay on the ground, making a warbling noise like an echo of his own taunting—
He stopped, cocked his head. Rey was circling her staff, hand outstretched to snatch the end farthest from the hassash.
No, you don’t, he thought, and the hassash sprang at her with a hiss.
Rey jumped back.
A sudden suspicion unfurled. He thought of the hassash moving away, allowing Rey to take back the staff. The creature gave a disappointed mew and backed off, dragging the staff with two hands before reluctantly releasing it.
Verrannallu said it’s yours, he remembered Rey telling him. He thought of the way it had blocked her from the doors when the Nightfolk called to her, the way it had herded her toward him. The way it seemed compelled to touch her—
It was responding to his wishes.
In his amazement, he forgot about taunting Rey. A dark-side creature of this world, drawn to him. Did that mean he could—?
The anger he felt from Rey was shading into fear. She grabbed her staff off the ground and backed away. Her eyes darted, and her rasping breaths spoke more of increasing fear than of exertion. His back to the barn doors, he watched her.
She rocked on her feet and eyed the hassash, her hands white-knuckled on the staff. Released from Kylo’s intentions, it spidered across the floor and crouched by him, its three purple eyes on her. She maneuvered so she could watch them both then began sparring with the post again.
Again and again she thrust and slashed, whirled and blocked imaginary attacks. The more her fear rose, the fiercer her efforts. The sound of the staff hitting wood echoed through the barn. Gouges appeared on the post. In their pens, the mallikin shifted and snorted. Her breathing grew harsher and blood bloomed on the bandage that wrapped her arm.
Kylo stiffened. “Rey,” he said. “Stop.”
She whirled and slammed the post even harder.
“You’ve reopened your wound. That’s enough.”
She did use aggression to mask her fear—he’d been right about that.
He got to his feet, ready to stop her by force, if necessary.
She closed her mind. He felt the moment she did. She disappeared from his perception—even from his sense of her through the bond. He’d given her a weapon he hadn’t intended—the ability to conceal herself from him. It was an uncomfortable realization.
She staggered back, leaning hard on the staff and breathing with those whistling gasps. If the bruise around her throat was any indication, even breathing had to be painful. Anger swept him again.
“Had enough?” he said.
She raised her head, glaring at him. “I don’t need your help.”
“Don’t you? Can you keep it up all night? I feel how strong the dark side is. Stronger than ever.”
He reached outward. The minds he’d sensed that first night were closer, more numerous, more intent. In his mind’s eye, he caught a glimpse of walls rising from a sea of grass, lights at the top creating an island of searing brightness. Somewhere at the center of that island lay a core of darkness, one that stretched outward in turn to reel in power.
“I could do anything I wanted to now,” he said. “I don’t feel a hint of weakness. I know how much effort you’re expending to keep it out.”
The hassash scuttled a few steps toward her. No, he thought at it, and it stopped.
Turning her back on him again, she walked to a corner between two pens and sank into the straw, her staff across her knees. Kylo slid down again, stretched out his legs and watched her.
She kept her shield up longer than he expected, especially physically exhausted as she was. He sensed it wavering finally, a flash through the bond, first, then she flickered in and out of his perception like a moon through scudding storm clouds. At last, her concentration collapsed. She drew up her knees and bent her head to them, gripping the staff like a barrier.
“Rey,” he said, chiding.
She ignored him.
He set his teeth. “If that’s what you want.”
He folded his arms and closed his eyes. The dark side surged around him, rich with power. Rey’s presence through the bond shivered with fear. He felt her try to raise her mental shield once, twice. It would hold for a moment, then crumple again. Her fear suddenly spiked.
Kylo jerked up his head and opened his eyes. She scrambled to her feet, staff held in a white-knuckled grip, breaths ragged and frantic. She spun, spun again, then with a scream, slashed the staff downward through the air at nothing.
He sat up straight. She whirled and jabbed and swung at some unseen assailant. The animals heaved to their feet in their pens, pawed the straw and whuffed, backing away. One of Rey’s wild slashes connected with a pen’s corner post. With a cry, she turned and hammered at it, again and again as if determined to reduce it to splinters. Her ragged hair flew. The wild madness that filled her face sent cold alarm flooding through him.
He jumped to his feet and surged toward her. “Rey, stop!”
She pounded the staff into another post. It split with a crack, and he could see the staff beginning to bend. The sounds she made were those of a trapped and terrified animal, snarling, gasping cries.
Kylo’s hand fell to his lightsaber. Deliberately, he released it, raised it toward her, palm out. “Rey,” he said calmly and reached through the bond.
He met nothing sane, only feral, unthinking fear. She wasn’t using aggression to distract herself this time. She was fighting for her life.
His heart raced. He couldn’t tell if it was his own fear, or an echo of hers. He pushed it away, drew up calm like a cloak. Hand still outstretched, he approached her. She whirled to face him, teeth bared, bent staff upraised.
“Come on,” he said softly. “That’s enough now. Give me the staff.”
He could draw his lightsaber. It would make short work of the staff. He could paralyze her with the Force, throw her into the wall behind her, go into her mind—
All the things her enemy would do.
He took another step. “It’s all right.”
Raising the staff, she lunged forward a step.
He didn’t flinch back. “You know I’m not your enemy.”
Every instinct would tell her he was, that he was part of what attacked her through the dark. He was part of the dark.
He stepped forward again, laid a hand on her staff. He could feel the quiver of her muscles through it. She was like a flame whipped by storm winds, torn and harried, ready to blaze up in a conflagration.
“Good.” He slowly closed his hand around the staff, laid the other on hers where she gripped it. “It’s all right now.”
The physical touch should’ve offered her some protection, the way it had other nights. It didn’t. Not this time. She jerked back with a cry, trying to wrench the staff from his grasp.
Realization hit him. They faced her today. They know what they’re up against now.
This wasn’t some general assault, or a lure to draw her out. This was a targeted attack.
He could shield her mind. He’d have to go into her mind to do it, though. If anything would push her over the edge, that would certainly be it.
With a resigned sigh, he pushed her into sleep. He caught her as she crumpled, the staff falling with a thump at his feet.
It was Takodana all over again. He only hoped when she woke they wouldn’t have to start from the beginning.
The way he’d taunted her earlier, he suspected they might.
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