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Luke shot a gust of wind at the Imperial troops, scattering them like leaves. They screamed, but he didn’t have time to ensure them a soft landing; more were incoming, and the Rebel forces were dwindling by the minute.
He drew a line in the ground between his fellow Rebels and a line of Imperials in front of them, cutting into the dirt, then rattled the earth under the Imps like shaking out a blanket. They shouted and fell, swords falling to the ground with a clatter. Wedge caught his eye and grinned, then charged forward.
His next breath was cold.
Luke glanced around the battlefield. Soldiers were fallen everywhere, staining the hills red, and more continued fighting over the bodies of their brethren.
But there, at the top of the far hill, stood the Imp army he’d hoped to avoid.
The Inquisitorius.
Their uniforms were red as blood, singed with the Imperial cog, and they were armed with nothing but their armor and their magic - and more training than Luke could ever dream of.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. He turned back to his men. “Retreat! Rogue Unit, fall back! Repeat, Rogue Unit, fall back!”
They obeyed without thought. Wedge and Hobbie, his seconds, were the only two that stayed by him.
“You alright, boss?” Hobbie asked, panting. He held his sword in a guard position, watching the Imperials carefully.
“Yeah,” Luke breathed. He closed his eyes for a moment and centered himself, reaching deep into his well of magic. It was worryingly low. “Yeah, but I don’t think we’ll be able to hold them for long. Just buy enough time for everyone to get out of here.”
The last of Rogue Unit made it behind them, with the Imperials close on their tails. Luke shouted as he fired off bolts of flame, driving the Imps back. They only shied for a moment, however. Within seconds, they activated their shields, which folded out like fans from their wrists.
He dipped into his well anew and threw out wind. The shields acted like sails, helping to push the Imps back - right into the line of Inquisitors.
The Inquisitors wove through their sister army like smoke, never faltering. Luke felt their attention on him like the glare of the twin suns, and he gritted his teeth, throwing wind again, again. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Wedge, Hobbie, go!” he managed. He blasted flame at an Inquisitor, but they batted it away like an annoying bug.
“What about you?” Wedge shouted.
“Go!” His tone brooked no argument. Wedge put a hand on his shoulder for a moment, then turned away. They knew better than to disobey a direct order.
“Why did you do that?” an Inquisitor asked, her voice smooth as a snake, rustling through the leaves. “Now you’re all alone, Jedi.”
Luke breathed heavily and dipped into the energy of the world around him, drawing on the strength of the grass, the far-off trees, the bugs and worms that lived together underground. There wasn’t much, but he squeezed out every drop that he could. He swayed on his feet, lightheaded.
“I like to think of it as not having to think about which way I can attack,” he said. He tried to draw up more magic to strengthen himself, and felt his eyes glow green, a barely-there light.
Kriffing hells, he really had to get out of here.
“Little tired, there, Jedi?” another Inquisitor, a man, said with a feral grin.
Luke matched it with a grin of his own. “Never.”
“We’ll see about that.”
The Inquisitor shouted as he sent shards of ice hurtling at Luke, who quickly raised his arms in an X and summoned a shield that flickered on impact. He staggered backwards, digging his feet into the dirt. His shield shattered.
Without thought, he lashed out with a roar of flame that kept the Inquisitor back for two precious seconds, but the Inquisitor quickly doused the flames in ice that sent steam into the air, adding to the flush reddening Luke’s skin. He panted, breath fogging in the sudden chill, and drew up magic again, ignoring the pounding in his head. It came sluggishly, like trying to pull a root out of the dirt.
Before he could gather enough to strike, the Inquisitor flung a rope of ice that wrapped around his leg, cold and tight enough to hurt, and yanked, sweeping his legs out from under him. He fell with an oof.
Luke put what little magic he had into a shaking hand and grabbed the rope, heating it hot enough to melt. The cold water soaked his shoes as he scrambled to stand.
“I don’t think so,” the Inquisitor sneered. He pushed Luke down with a careless hand, and Luke fell again, breathing heavily.
His head was killing him, but he summoned a flame, disappointingly small, and shot it in a pitiful sweeping arc at the Inquisitors that surrounded him. The one he had been fighting with hit his face with a bare hand hard enough to snap it sideways, and he fell onto his back in the grass, head spinning. The world swooped around him disorientingly.
The Inquisitor dusted his hands off. “Another win for the glorious Empire.”
Luke gritted his teeth and, with a yell, rolled over and slapped his hand onto the ground. He pushed the remains of his magic into the dirt. Something in his chest pulled as the ground shook, then a boot in his back jolted his magic out of his tenuous grasp and he collapsed again.
The Inquisitors’ eyes were like the High Council, judging, as they watched him cough up blood.
He couldn’t resist as two of them hauled him upright by his arms, shivering. His eyelids drooped, begging for sleep, but he couldn’t be taken by the Empire, and as long as the Inquisitors were focused on him, his own squad had time to get away.
Magic sparked in his hands, but no flame lit. Luke sagged in the Inquisitors’ arms, chest aching. His feet dragged across the grass.
The world passed by in a blur of green and red until cold metal under his back shocked him back to awareness.
He blinked harshly, gaze darting around, exhaustedly cataloging his surroundings. Grey walls. Black Imperial Cog dominating one wall, with the red, four-pointed starburst of the Inquisitorius in the center. Pull-down seats and crash webbing, all folded up, lined the wall across from him. Red emergency lights overhead. Grated durasteel floor.
And he was...on a medical cot? But with no cushioning.
The Inquisitor he had fought stood in front of him, arms crossed, blocking him from the others.
“It’s my catch. You don’t get any credit,” the Inquisitor said harshly.
“Fourth Brother, you know we all helped.” It was the one with the voice like a snake. “This was a joint effort.”
“I’m sorry, but who here actually defeated the Jedi? Oh, that was me.”
Another voice, a woman with a harsh tone to match Fourth Brother’s. “And you think you could have done this alone? We certainly don’t need you now, Brother. I should cut you down where you stand. Then who gets the credit?”
“Seventh Sister, please,” the snake-voiced woman said. “He’ll come to his senses.”
Luke pushed himself upright with a groan.
“Oh,” she said. “Looks like someone else did first.”
Luke fought to keep his eyes open. He couldn’t be taken to the Empire - couldn’t be forced to become an Inquisitor. That would betray everything he’d ever stood for, everything Ben had ever taught him, everything the Rebellion had ever fought and died for,
He struggled to draw on his magic, but it was like grasping at air. There was nothing.
The snake-voiced woman pushed her way past Fourth Brother and put a cold hand to Luke’s forehead.
“Sleep, Jedi.” Exhaustion hit him like a boulder and he went limp, collapsing onto the bare metal.
As the world drowned in darkness, he heard, “Can’t have you dying on us before we even get to train you.”
Then he knew no more.