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“We’re lost, aren’t we?”
Merrin huffed in irritation, brushing a few loose strands of hair off of her sweaty forehead as she climbed over another low, crumbling wall.
“We are not lost,” she said.
“You just don’t know where we are,” Cal quipped as he followed her lead.
“I don’t see you pulling a map out of your poncho,” Merrin shot back.
He’s doing his best, BD-1 trilled indignantly from his perch atop Cal’s shoulder. Cal patted the droid’s head, gently shushing him.
“It’s okay, buddy,” he said. “She’s just teasing.”
Merrin rolled her eyes as she pivoted where she stood, examining their surroundings. The wall they’d just climbed over ringed the ruins of a village. Another place abandoned after General Grievous’s attack. The dark, empty windows and doorways stared blankly at them like the hollowed out eyes of skeletons. Cal suppressed a shudder as he looked around too, though unlike Merrin, he didn’t have the faintest clue what he should be looking for.
“I know where we are,” Merrin muttered. “I just… don’t know how to get to the valley from here.”
“Why does everyone hide their arcane artifacts on Dathomir, anyway?” Cal asked. “First the astrium, now –”
All of a sudden he stopped speaking, his gaze darting around the empty village. He could have sworn he heard…
But all was silent now. There was no sound but the wind rushing across rock, howling through the empty houses that surrounded them.
“Cal?”
Merrin’s eyes narrowed with concern as she called his name.
“It’s nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “I just thought –”
There it was again. A quiet, sorrowful sound, so faint he couldn’t quite tell what it was.
“Do you hear that?” he asked, whipping his head around and staring intently in every direction as if the source of the noise would just present itself.
Merrin went quiet, closing her eyes as she listened. Cal did the same, straining to hear every noise around him, no matter how faint. But once again there was nothing but the sound of the wind. Maybe what he’d heard was just a Force echo. Maybe the ghosts Merrin talked about were screwing with him. Maybe he was just hallucinating after a sleepless night. Wouldn’t be the first time.
And then he heard it again. And this time Merrin did, too.
“Yes,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It sounds… alive.”
Cal nodded as they both opened their eyes. He took the lead, following the sound deeper into the village. It was small, probably barely populated when there had actually been people living here. There wasn’t much ground to cover. So Cal was able to pinpoint the house it was coming from easily.
He held up a hand, silently signaling Merrin to stop. She did, standing shoulder to shoulder with him as they both sized up the house. There was no sign of life within it. No light, no smoke from a fire, no flickers of movement. But it was definitely the right place. That quiet sniffling sound was closer now. Louder. Enough for Cal to finally recognize it.
Someone was crying.
Cal looked at Merrin, who nodded. Slowly, he crept forward, slipping through the uncovered doorway.
“Hello?” he called softly.
There was a quiet gasp and a shuffle of movement in the corner. Someone was definitely in here.
As if reading his thoughts, BD-1 turned on his headlamp, casting a flood of light into the room. The figure in the corner cried out, shrinking away from the light and lifting their arm to shield their eyes.
“Sorry,” Cal said quickly. “BD, point it the other way.”
The droid swiveled, shining his light into the opposite corner. The small figure lowered their arm, but stayed huddled in the corner beneath what Cal now recognized as a pile of old, ragged cloth that had probably once been blankets. He moved closer, trying to get a better look at the figure.
It was a kid.
A little boy who couldn’t be more than five or six years old. Dark hair, tangled and slightly matted, hung around a small face covered in tiny, shallow scratches. The boy stared up at Cal with eyes that were a sickeningly familiar shade of yellow. Dark sider eyes. And eyes that had clearly been crying just seconds ago. The reason was easy enough to see. His left arm was bruised and swollen, clutched gingerly against his chest by his other hand.
And to Cal’s surprise, the boy appeared to be completely human.
His first thought was of Malicos. Of whether it was possible the man had a Padawan who’d survived the Purge. A Padawan who’d been here alone for months now, fending for himself and not knowing what happened to his Master. But logic quickly caught up with his worry. The kid was far too young to be a survivor. A son maybe? But then where was his mother?
Cal took a step forward and the kid lurched to his feet. His uninjured hand darted into the pocket of his ragged clothing and pulled out a small knife.
“Easy,” Cal said, slowly extending his hand. “I’m not gonna hurt you. We just want to help.”
The boy’s gaze slid past Cal to Merrin, who stood in the doorway. He tilted his head curiously, wide eyes blinking slowly as he took in the sight of her.
“You’re a Nightsister,” he said.
“I am.”
“I didn’t think there were any of you left,” the boy said.
“Not many,” Merrin said. Her voice was much more tender than Cal had ever heard it. She stepped through the door, crouching down to get a closer look at the boy. “But some of us survived. Just like you did.”
“It’s a broken arm,” the kid muttered. “Not even worth crying over.”
“Looks like it hurts,” Cal said. “Is there someone who can help you? Someone we can get you back to?”
“No,” the kid snapped, his grip on the knife growing so tight his hand shook.
“Are you alone out here?” Cal asked. Please say no, he thought. This kid was too kriffing young to be on his own. And Cal didn’t think he could live with himself if he’d helped kill the person responsible for him.
The boy glared at them. Suspicion and fear whirled around him, so obvious Cal wouldn’t even need the Force to sense it. He could feel the kid reaching out, trying to sense their intentions. It was sloppy and haphazard, the way he pushed at shields he had no hope of breaching. The kid was Force sensitive, but if he had any training, it was minimal. Cal let his guard down, allowing the boy to sense his intentions. He could tell when the kid got the answers he was looking for. Saw the slight lowering of his shoulders, the smallest amount of tension leaving his hand.
“No,” the kid finally said. “I’m not alone.”
The question had clearly scared the kid so much that Cal chose to drop it for now. He lowered himself to the boy’s level, sitting down on the ground and letting BD-1 settle into his lap.
“My name’s Cal,” he told the kid. “My friend is Merrin. And this is BD-1. He’s friendly, I promise.”
The boy said nothing, but still he watched BD-1 with the fascination small children always seemed to have for droids.
“You have a name?” Cal asked.
“Ezra,” the boy mumbled. “My name’s Ezra.”
“Who else is here with you?” Cal asked.
The kid twitched nervously. It wasn’t quite a flinch. Like he was stopping himself from going that far.
“You can trust him,” Merrin said softly. It was almost unnerving to hear her talking this way. Not that she was never gentle around Cal, Cere, and Greez. But bluntness was her usual mode of expression.
“My Master,” the kid said quietly. His jaw trembled, voice breaking over the word. A wave of fear surged over Cal’s mind, uncontrolled and powerful. He looked haunted as his eyes grew wider, his grip tightening around the knife. “He’ll be so angry.”
“Angry?” Cal repeated. “Why?”
“I got hurt.”
The kid’s voice was raspy. Terrified. He looked just a hair’s breadth away from shaking with fear. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Cal’s stomach. He glanced at Merrin, who met his eyes with an equally concerned look.
“Ezra,” Cal said slowly, “did your Master do this to you?”
Ezra shook his head. “I – I fell,” he said. “I just – I’m just going to stay here until it gets better. So he won’t…”
He trailed off, shrugging. Cal winced as his gaze traveled to the boy’s arm. It was almost certainly broken.
“Kid, it’ll take weeks for your arm to get better on its own,” Cal said. “If you want, we can help you. We have medicine on our ship. And food, if you need it.”
Ezra said nothing, but Cal could feel him thinking. The wheels were turning in his head as he weighed his options. Cal suspected that deep down the boy knew the idea of hiding out until his arm healed was just a fantasy. But he didn’t point that out. Didn’t want to say anything that could push the kid away. His priority right now was getting the boy help and finding out more about this Master who’d be angry with him for something as simple as falling and hurting himself by accident.
At last, the kid gave a slow, jerking nod. Cal was surprised. He’d expected more hesitation and resistance. But apparently his fear of his Master outweighed his fear of going with two strangers.
“Our ship isn’t far,” Cal said. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” the boy said, sounding almost offended that Cal would even ask the question.
Cal stood, placing BD-1 back on his shoulder. He held out a hand toward Ezra, who just stared at it blankly. Feeling suddenly awkward, Cal lowered his hand. The kid could clearly take care of himself a little, and they’d keep an eye on him. Someone obviously needed to.
The trek back to the Mantis was much shorter than the hike to the village. They were going downhill this time, and even with a broken arm Ezra was just as quick and energetic as one would expect from a small child. So it wasn’t long before the kid was seated at the table while Cal fetched painkillers, cold packs, and the boneknitter.
When he returned, Ezra’s eyes went wide when he saw everything Cal was carrying.
“What is that?” the kid asked.
“A boneknitter,” Cal said. “It’ll help heal your arm.”
That prickling feeling of suspicion grew stronger before he slowly raised his arm and rested it on the table. His brow furrowed the whole time, but he didn’t even whimper, fighting to hide the pain he was clearly in.
“This might feel a little weird,” Cal said as he set the device on the boy’s arm. “But it shouldn’t hurt.”
Ezra was perfectly still as Cal laid a cold pack over his arm and prepared a hypospray. But Cal could sense the fear radiating off of him. The uncertainty about this whole situation and the worry that he’d made a mistake.
“This is just to help with the pain and swelling,” he said. “But we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”
Ezra nodded, still not looking at him. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. He didn’t even wince when the needle pricked his skin. Something told him that this kid was used to much more pain than this.
“Are you hungry?” Cal asked. “It doesn’t look like you had much to eat where you were holed up.”
Ezra shook his head. Tears were starting to form at the corners of his eyes. Cal recognized the feeling that surged through the Force. That unravelling when you were finally safe. The kid had spent who knew how long hiding out in that abandoned house, braving harsh weather and wild animals, all while injured and afraid of being discovered.
“How long were you out there?”
A shrug. “A few days,” Ezra muttered. The fingers on his uninjured hand began to trail along the edge of the table, only to freeze, his entire arm going tense. He quickly dropped his hand back into his lap. “Just ask what you really want to.”
“Clever kid,” Cal said with a nod of approval. A tiny smile twitched across Ezra’s face at that, but he ducked his head to hide it. Cal paused, letting the kid have that moment of pride and happiness before he potentially crushed it.
“Ezra,” he said gently. “When you said your Master would be angry… would he hurt you?”
Ezra nodded, his gaze dropping back to the table. Cal could sense pure, sickening shame leeching out into the Force.
“I know…” the boy’s voice shook as he spoke. His free hand crept up to the back of his neck, nails digging in hard. “I know I – I should just take it. But I – I thought…”
The kid’s breath was coming in sharp, ragged breaths. He was hunched over, still clawing at the back of his neck like he was trying to tear his skin off.
“No.” The word slipped out before Cal could think through how best to talk to the kid about this. “No, Ezra, you shouldn’t have.”
The kid didn’t respond. He was shaking from head to toe now, muttering to himself under his breath. That shame was amplified a hundredfold, self-loathing and anger welling up alongside it. Cal froze. He didn’t know what to do.
Suddenly Ezra’s head jerked up, his bright yellow eyes going wide. A tremor of fear reverberated through the Force, so powerful Cal thought it might knock him flat.
“He’s here.” The kid’s voice was a panicked whisper. “He’s –”
Before the boy could say another word, the hatch ripped itself open with a deafening roar of twisting metal. Cal leapt to his feet, his lightsaber already in his hand as a red and black blur launched itself through the opening.
The entire ship seemed to freeze as the figure came into focus. A Nightbrother, his black tattoos weaving together in intricate patterns over bright red skin. His eyes were the same bright yellow as Ezra’s, and the Force pulsed around him, steady but controlled.
Sith.
Cal knew it as surely as he knew his own name. The man who stood before him was more than a mere devotee of the dark side. He was a master of it. A Sith Lord.
A thundering of multiple sets of footsteps met his ears and seconds later Cere, Merrin, and Greez emerged from the cockpit, all armed.
“You’ll want to get off my ship if you know what’s good for you,” Greez said. Cal’s heart tightened when he saw the exceedingly ordinary Latero trying to square up to a kriffing Sith Lord.
The Sith sneered at him and removed something from his belt that Cal immediately recognized as the hilt of a lightsaber.
“I will depart,” the Zabrak said, “as soon as you return my apprentice to me.”
“That isn’t happening,” Cere said, stepping to the side as if to shield both Cal and Ezra at the same time. “I know who you are, Maul, and you’re not going near that kid again.”
Maul. The name hit Cal like a pallet of bricks dropped on his head. As a child in the Temple, he’d heard stories about the Sith Lord who rose from the grave. Stories that always sounded more like myths, but that every youngling feared might be true.
“How unfortunate for you,” Maul said dryly, as if Cere’s ultimatum was no more than a mild inconvenience.
He ignited one of his blades, casting a sickly red glow through the cabin. Cal was about to do the same when he was stopped by a small, frantic shout from behind him.
“Stop!”
Ezra stepped around Cal’s legs, putting himself between Maul and the adults who were trying to protect him.
“Ezra, don’t,” Merrin said. But the kid ignored her. Cal watched as he stood before the Sith, looking infinitely smaller than he had just seconds ago.
“You don’t have to hurt them,” Ezra said, his voice almost pleading. “I’ll come home.”
Maul extended his hand toward Ezra. Before Cal could do anything to stop him, the boy took it, letting himself be pulled to Maul’s side. Cal’s heart sank at the sight of Ezra clinging to his Master, Maul’s hand threating affectionately through his hair. In that moment he knew there was no chance of getting the kid to come with them willingly. But they couldn’t just leave him with Maul.
“I know you will,” Maul said. “But I can’t let a Jedi who tries to take you from me leave this place alive.”
He shoved Ezra aside and lunged at Cal. The young Jedi ignited his blade, raising it to defend himself before –
“No!”
Suddenly Maul was flying in the opposite direction. He slammed into the edge of the hatch, managing to land on his feet. All eyes turned to Ezra, who stood with both hands outstretched, breathing heavily. Cal could sense the boy’s dawning horror as he realized what he’d done.
“You little…” Maul grabbed Ezra’s hair, wrenching the boy toward him. Ezra cried out but didn’t fight back.
“Let him go!” Cal shouted.
There was a sharp crack of a blaster firing, a flash of blue light, and Maul went down, stunned into unconsciousness. Ezra hit the floor beside his Master, yelping when he landed on his still-broken arm.
“Greez, get us out of here,” Cere said as she stuck the blaster back into her holster.
“Gladly.”
Cal gathered Ezra up into his arms. The boy was shaking, his breathing ragged and labored. Fear wracked every cell in his body, scraping against the inside of Cal’s skull as he held the terrified Sith apprentice tight.
“Merrin, help me,” Cere said. “He won’t be out for long.”
The young Nightsister hurried to follow her order, grabbing Maul’s arms as Cere took his legs. Together, they hauled him out of the ship, leaving him on the rocky ground outside.
Ezra started to wiggle out of Cal’s grip as the engines roared to life, trying to follow Maul. Cal squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that one day he could earn the boy’s forgiveness for what was about to happen.
He tightened his arms around Ezra’s middle, holding the kid back.
Ezra realized what he was doing immediately. He thrashed in Cal’s arms, his good hand clawing into the Jedi’s side.
“No!” he screamed. “Let go!”
“I’m sorry,” Cal mumbled into the kid’s hair. “I’m so sorry, Ezra.”
The hatch closed, miraculously sealing shut after being violently ripped open. Ezra shrieked so loud Cal’s ears rang as the Mantis lifted off. His fear and despair radiated through the Force, threatening to destroy everything in its path.
Then all at once, the fight drained out of him. He sagged in Cal’s arms, shuddering as he gasped for air. He was crying again, violent sobs that wracked his whole body. Cal’s heart ached as he released the boy, letting him fall to his knees as they buckled beneath him.
“Ezra,” he said softly, reaching out to the boy.
“No!” Ezra screamed. He slapped Cal’s hand away, fury and betrayal in his eyes as he stared up at the Jedi. “Don’t touch me! You lied to me!” He pressed his hands over his eyes, a pained cry tearing itself from his throat. “I hate you!”
“I know,” Cal said, more to himself than to the kid who he knew had no interest in listening to him. “I’m so sorry.”
Cal slid into a spot at the table—the very same spot Ezra had occupied earlier—clutching a cup of caf between his hands. Almost as soon as he sat down, soft footsteps met his ears. He didn’t need to look up to recognize them as Cere’s. The older Jedi sat down beside him, her arm slipping around his shoulders.
“He’s out,” Cal said quietly, staring into his cup so he didn’t have to meet her eyes. The kid had screamed and raged on and off for hours, but eventually the days of sleep deprivation and cold and hunger caught up with him and he allowed Cal to settle him down on a bunk where he cried himself to sleep.
Cal felt awful. Worse than awful. He felt like the lowest creature in the galaxy. He knew it was for the best. They couldn’t just leave a kid with an abusive Sith Lord who would hurt him the second they were gone. But the kid was so distraught. Heartbroken. Cal couldn’t help but think about how he’d felt when he was separated from his own Master all those years ago.
“I just wish it hadn’t gone down like that,” Cal said quietly. If they’d had more time, they might have been able to convince Ezra to come with them willingly. It would still be painful, but maybe, maybe not as traumatic.
“Me too,” Cere told him. “But Maul didn’t give us any other choice.”
A lump formed in Cal’s throat as for a brief, fleeting moment he found himself back in that escape pod. Clinging to his Master’s body, hoping maybe he was just unconscious, not really dead. He’d seen himself in Ezra when they first found him huddled in that dark corner, alone and afraid. Merrin had too, he knew. Now the resemblance was that much clearer. And that much more painful.
“Why stun him?” Cal asked.
“We all knew what had to happen,” Cere said. “It was already going to be traumatic enough. I didn’t want Ezra to have to see his Master die. Sith or not.”
Her arm tightened around Cal’s shoulder, her other hand gently resting on his wrist.
“That kid isn’t you, Cal,” she said. “He’s going to have a better future. We’ll make sure of it.”
“He’s lucky to have you,” Cal said, finally looking up at Cere. If it weren’t for her, he’d have died on Bracca, and maybe then no one would have found Ezra. “We both are.”
She was right, he knew. They would find a way to make sure Ezra didn’t turn out as damaged as the rest of them had.
After what had just happened, they owed the kid that much.