Star Wars - The Breath of Gelgelar by Jean Rabe

Author:Jean Rabe [Rabe, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 1997-08-13T20:26:48+00:00

The reeho again thrust T’laerean’s thoughts aside, pushed off from the girl’s opening hands and spread its wings. It flew through the open window and out into the growing twilight. It beat its wings hard, and ignored the ache in its body. It ignored the cries of the girls running behind it, their frantic footsteps. It ignored the old men who were going into their homes for dinner.

No! You’re flying the wrong way! Fly back into the building! Land on the Sullustan—the one on the bed!

And it ignored T’laerean.

The reeho, though tired and sore, flew as fast as its aching wings could manage. It streaked across the settlement yard, then over the glittering fence and across the swampy plains. The bird’s keen vision cut through the growing darkness, like a sharp knife could cut through a crelnut. And from the secret place in the back of the reeho’s mind. T’laerean watched with growing terror. The Sullustan’s awareness was being carried farther away from the settlement. He felt the Force, the Breath of Gelgelar, and he sensed that it was controlling him completely. He wasn’t strong enough to exert any measure of control over it. His mind was careening along toward the trees, piggybacked onto the brain of the freed reeho.

How long can I live this way? In a reeho’s mind? T’laerean wondered. Will they bury my body, ending my life? Or will my body die for lack of food and water? Will my consciousness drift forever in this small brain? When the bird sleeps, will I gain the strength to coax it to do my bidding again? And what about the farmers?

The bird spotted the Sullustan mold farmers, now using large glow rods to see by. Sensor packs still trained on the ground, datapads recording the yield, they were close to the trees now. And they were closing on a trio of iquazards, massive boarlike creatures at had been cleverly hobbled to tree roots.

The reeho idly wondered why anyone would tie the iquazards, and ignored T’laerean’s attempts to explain about the ambush and make suggestions that it somehow warn the mold farmers. The reeho wanted only to return to the embrace of the jungle, to the of the tall trees, to never see Sullustans again.

“Look!” T’laerean faintly heard from his small, secret place. “Iquazards! Three of them, and they don’t seem to notice us.” It was one of the mold farmers talking. “Everyone, come on. They move slow. We’ll catch them and have a fine feast tonight.”

The farmers would have to get close to the beasts, T’laerean knew. The iquazards were so thick-skinned they could virtually ignore blaster shots, except from close range. And close range would be too close to the jungle.

T’laerean heard the swish of the marsh grass behind the reeho, the snap of a dry twig. And through his shared senses he smelled the Sullustans, the vohis mold, the musky iquazards, the heady loam of the looming jungle. Darkness and green filled his vision as the bird

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