THE VALLEY OF NORVAN
The Valley of Norvan stretched across half the continent and measured three thousand yards from the peak of the tallest mountain to the lowest crevasse, giving the winds plenty of opportunity to become almost unbearably powerful. Most native creatures lived either nestled in the valley itself, below where the winds would find them, or toward the peak, where the atmosphere was too thin for them to gain much steam. The few specimens of flora or fauna existing in the middle were not dissimilar from the inhabitants of high-gravity planets: squat and muscular, having adapted to be what amounted to sentient, mobile rocks immune to the constant buffering.
On either side of the valley’s bordering mountain ranges lived the P’tuhn. Each village of no more than 100 people was located within 50 miles of the foot of the mountains. The P’tuhn, a long-limbed humanoid people, were the native inhabitants of this continent and believed the winds of Norvan carried the spirits and wisdom of their ancestors. Village elders would journey up to the mountains, despite being ill-suited for the environment, to speak to their forefathers. If you stood looking out you’d see hundreds of small enclaves right up to the horizon line.
Lor V’Tars made his way along an outcropping on the north side of the valley. He moved swiftly, even against the wind, driven by purpose and aided by The Force, which he called on to maintain balance as well as breath itself.
Lor had been on the planet for almost three months now conducting his investigation and finally had located his quarry. A local in one of Sandohr’s far-off shipping ports had let it slip (aided by more than a few drinks but no Force usage) that Tam had vacated civilization for the Valley in order to survive. The source hadn’t know what it was Tam was needing to survive but didn’t give it much thought.
His senses tingled more strongly with each movement forward, assuring Lor he was headed where he needed to be. He pulled the hood of his robe over his head. It wouldn’t do much good against the wind, nothing would. But it helped keep some of the detrius blowing around from hitting him, and it would help create a stronger impression on Tam when Lor arrived.
He stopped to steady himself and regain his perspective. Looking behind him wasn’t useful – it never was, in any situation – but looking forward helped him spy the smallest of unnatural elements in the endless sea of wind-smoothed rock that lay ahead. There – a quarter mile off there was a shadow where The Force indicated there shouldn’t be. Reaching out with his feelings, Lor knew that’s where he needed to go.
20 minutes passed before he finally arrived at his destination. The shadow he’d seen from far off was indeed an opening carved into the side of the mountain. This wasn’t recent work but seemed to be centuries old, if not more. The cutting was precise but the edges had been worn down. It was just big enough for Lor to enter, though he was plunged into total darkness just steps into the man-made cave. Just as well, he thought, my eyes can deceive me.
The passage became almost impossibly narrow at times, forcing Lor to draw in all his breath and move slowly to make it past jagged rocks still jutting from the walls. He didn’t know – and didn’t necessarily care – whether they were there as intentional impediments or simply remnants of someone rushing to get the job done and accepting “good enough” as a result.
Finally he entered a larger space, a single glow lamp placed on a short table illuminating a figure huddled in the corner. The cold isn’t what he was protecting himself against with his legs drawn tight against his torso and head buried between his knees. It was fear and shame. The emotions spread out from him like tentacles. Tam wasn’t Force-adept, but still Lor could feel the tingle of the Dark Side in each new wave of feelings emanating from him.
“Tam, I’m here to take you in,” Lor finally said.
There was no reaction from the man in the corner. He continued rocking and silently weeping. He didn’t even look up.
“Tam…”
“I know,” he finally said in a weak, whispering voice.
“I’m taking you in now. I already have the coded communications. There will be no war between the continents.”
“It almost happened, though. It almost happened.”
Unlike most other planets, Sandohr had never united under a single government. Instead each continent acted as its own nation-state, with trade and other deals between each one. Galactic Senate representatives were selected on an alternating basis. Millennia ago the first two were sent with the understanding one, chosen by lot, would serve two terms and the other only one. Then someone from another continent would go and serve two terms, overlapping the first. From there on out representatives leapfrogged each other, rotating through the nations in a defined order to ensure everyone was given a slot on a regular basis.
“At what cost, Tam?”
There was no answer. He continued muttering to himself.
Finally Lor moved across the room, scanning for any possible traps or explosives with The Force as he did so. He reached out and pulled Tam up firmly but gently, not wanting to break the man despite the crimes he’d committed in bringing the plant to the brink of its first cross-border conflict.
“We’re moving. Now.” Lor wasn’t looking forward to making the long trek back toward the P’tuhn village where he’d stayed days ago with an unwilling and uncooperative companion, but there was no alternative. No pilot would fly in these winds and the P’tuh, while willing to offer shelter and food, refused to part with any of the sturdy beasts of burden they used when traveling on this side of the mountain. He looked around Tam’s small shelter and slipped as many ration packs into his cloak as he could. He would be fine on minimal food, but if Tam was going to face justice he’d have to not starve on the trip. Out of the corner of his eye he spied a thermal parka and grabbed it as well, forcing Tam’s arms through the sleeves. Freezing wouldn’t do, either.
The trip was as unpleasant as Lor anticipated. Tam was an unwilling companion to say the least, constantly having to be pulled or prodded along the difficult trail. The rations Lor had taken kept them both adequately fed and water was plentiful, with clearwater streams pouring down the side every few hundred yards. Lor remembered a local legend that the water actually came from within the mountain, that under half mile of rock was a great mass of water that came up from the planet’s crust and burst forth from weak points. He considered probing for confirmation but rejected it as an unnecessary and frivolous use of the Force.
Two and a half days later the reluctant travelers arrived at the P’tuhn village Lor had started from. The residents were not overly thrilled to see them, though they once more willingly aided by providing shelter for the night before they went back to the city.
Just after nightfall, Lor was approached by one of the village elders. The old woman sat down unbidden pointed a walking stick at the Jedi before saying a word as if reinforcing some point she’d made only in her head. He sat quietly, waiting for her to explain herself. After several silent minutes she finally spoke.
“Did you hear them?” she asked.
“Hear whom?
“The winds, boy, the winds. Did they speak to you?”
Lor shook his head, feigning disappointment, as if that had been a goal he’d failed to accomplish. He remembered his research before coming here and that there was a full ceremony the locals engaged in when someone returned from the mountains. This certainly wasn’t the full treatment but he decided to go along with it and play his part.
“Though the air was open, my ears were shut. No knowledge from the old ones, not a single voice, are mine to share with all.” This was, he hoped, the appropriate response that was part of the ritual.
The woman looked surprised and then crestfallen. “Though you’re not one of us, I had hoped one such as you might have gained something.” This wasn’t a continuation of the back-and-forth, though it was clear she knew he was a Jedi, something he had not volunteered or revealed to anyone on this planet.
He decided to leave that point unacknowledged. “What was it you were hoping to learn?”
“Why the end must come, of course.” She was speaking in riddles now.
“No,” he said, “there will be no war. I’ve seen to that.”
She scoffed as if he were an insolent child who had asked for more than his share of the family meal. “War. This isn’t about some war. There will always be wars. I mean the end.”
Lor wanted to ask more but she abruptly left the campfire they’d been sitting at, walking briskly back to her own hut and leaving Lor there to ponder her questions.
The next morning he looked for the woman but couldn’t find her, nor did anyone else know where she’d gone to. From the casual nature with which they dismissed her absence it seemed this was not unusual for her to remove herself from the village for extended periods. Eventually he couldn’t put off his departure any longer and he roused a still-sleeping Tam and mounted the pack beast that would take them back to this region’s central city, where the conspirator would be turned over to local authorities and Lor would board a transport, leaving this planet to the stars.
Fiction By Thilk 