The Avalan Crisis: Less than Regal - Seer's Gift
Posted on Sun Feb 8th, 2015 @ 11:42pm by Bomoor Thort
Edited on on Wed Jun 8th, 2022 @ 2:00pm
1,800 words; about a 9 minute read
Chapter:
Additional Stories
Location: Onderon
Timeline: 1,208 ABY, During the events of "Less than Regal"
OLD
With a deep intake of breath, the consular shot back to the situation. He put an arm on Thane's back, being careful to avoid the wound, "He will return. For now, let us make our presence here worthwhile. Perhaps you should make our purpose here known to Thendleton and see if that splinter of his needs looking at. I will seek out those in most need; perhaps work on extending the healing aura over a wider area."
"Wonderful," Thane responded dryly, his comment masking the ongoing strife the surge of emotion flowing from Theon had caused within him.
With a few quick glances about, Bomoor identified a huddle of people around an injured old humanoid and set off towards them.
NEW
Another instalment of The Avalan Crisis posts, chronicling the young Padawans, Thane and Bomoor Thort.
A young boy thudded into Bomoor’s leg as he hurried past, trying to find someone in the chaos of the explosion. The impact sent a shot of pain down the Ithorian’s side where he had been suppressing the sensation of his wounds. He looked around with mild annoyance to see the child but he has already blended into the huddles of people. He shook his head and carried on.
I am sure the child was simply scared and faced with many problems, he thought, lightly rubbing his tended leg as he walked, Just a shame that he had to remind me of mine.
His destination was a sizeable group of people gathered around an injured old woman who seemed to be propped against an old metal fence that had been warped with the force and heat of the explosion. As he drew near, some of the people turned to him; they seemed to be well-dressed besides some understandable dirt and tears. Bomoor guessed that they were nobles but not of the group he had met previously. It was notable that several within the group were Bival and not human as most of the noble families were. One of the female Bivall grasped his upper arm, fortunately not on his wounded side, “You are a Jedi, yes?” she nodded frantically, as if she were willing it so, “You can treat Grandmother. Heal her. Use the force.”
Bomoor grasped her hand in an effort to calm her and also to retract her tightening grip on his arm, “I am a Jedi. I will do what I can.”
With more discomfort than usual, he moved into the group and knelt down beside the older Bivall female. Like all Bivall, she had a relatively long neck and two eye-stalks that protruded outwards from either side of the head, but not as much as the Ithorian’s. Her skin tone was a murky green and the smooth folds of her skin were looser and less defined, which showed her age. Being a very small woman, even kneeling, Bomoor had to angle his neck further downwards to get his eye stalks close enough to examine her injury. It was not a pleasant sight; the explosive force must have thrown the woman some distance and, aside from evidence of several broken limbs, a metal spike had penetrated right through her abdomen where she had impacted against the fence. Blood seeped out of the wound and the surrounding tissue had been torn about considerably.
Surprisingly, however, the old woman was maintaining a faint consciousness, but her eyelids flickered and she whispered faintly, sensing the Jedi’s proximity, “The sage…The grey sage has come…to me,” she mustered a weak grin, “Seems I only had…to die for you to come.”
Her estimation of her fate was most-likely accurate, from what Bomoor could see. He could sense the intense trauma to the body’s nervous system and it was far more than someone of her age could recover from, even with the most-skilled intervention. Her body simply did not have the resources to null every pain and patch every wound she had sustained but her life force was grasping at the shell and willing itself on. He closed his eyes and reached out, hoping that his skill with the Force could ease the flesh somewhat so he could attempt to do something, “Be calm. I am here to help you. My name is Bomoor and I am a Jedi. What is your name?”
“I…” she began before pausing as the healing aura reached her senses and she let out a sigh, “Yes… it is you. I am Malin… former advisor to the throne.”
The other female Bivall had now joined Bomoor at her elder’s side, “Hush Grandmother. Let him heal you for you must get better.”
Summoning some hidden strength, Malin frowned and raised her voice, “I will do what I must, child! He is the sage I spoke of! It matters not what happens to me, only him! Now step back!”
Throwing a tearful glance at her healer, the younger female stood up and walked away. Bomoor could hear her burst into sobs when she thought she was out of earshot. Despite the woman’s outburst, she was still fading and Bomoor could only stave off what was now her inevitable passing. He opened his eyes and found the large emerald eyes of his patient staring deeply into him, “I know I am to die,” she spoke plainly with the occasional pause as she held off the shut-down of her systems, “And I appreciate your efforts. I do not have… much time. I know you… I have seen what you are to do. It may not be what you expected but it is… vital that you reach your full potential.”
She raised a jittery right arm and twisted about her long skeletal fingers as if recalling a detailed memory, "You will not be like the rest. You will not submit to the powers of the dark... or the light. You will fight both tyranny and anarchy. Those around you may takes sides... and you... you must face friends who threaten the balance you represent. You will fracture the galaxy, yes, but to bring it into balance... into harmony with itself..."
Bomoor was confused at her words. He had not had someone die like this before; not someone like this. Was she simply trying to bring some meaning to her last moments by inventing a fantasy or was it perhaps the delirium of her brain shutting down as the rest of her was? He felt in his pack with his free hand to find a stimpak to try to boost her consciousness a while longer, “Do you not wish your family to see you now? That was your Granddaughter before? Why send her away?”
A cold green hand stopped him as he fumbled in the pack, “Yes… but it matters not. Here…” Malin’s hand pulled his towards a small fabric purse attached to her belt, “There is a crystal inside. It was meant for you. I saw you using it and I carried it with me all this time. Please… take it…”
She began to loosen the string of the purse with her hand but a sudden convulsion took hold of her. The surge of energy through her body shot along Bomoor’s Force connection, causing him to jolt backwards and break the tie. He looked at his hand, it was throbbing as if it had been given a burst of energy. He looked back down at Malin; she was gasping for air. The energy she had before had suddenly gone. He reached out once again but she was too far gone. Several Bivall nobles gathered close, crying out to her but she stayed looking at Bomoor as her breathing slowed to a whimper and she closed her eyes for good.
“I am sorry,” Bomoor addressed the nobles while his eyes stayed on his patient, “She has gone. Her wounds were too severe.”
He quickly stood up and backed away, not feeling the pain of his wounds. Now beside him was another elderly Bivall; a male who stood with the same focussed stare at the body before them being hugged by the grief-stricken, “She really believed it, you know,” he spoke in a low and unemotional tone, “She was often called a seer in her lifetime. It was why she was chosen as Royal Advisor. I did not question her when she told me of you. She would not say much but I knew she would be right… She always was.”
He bent down and plucked the purse from the ground, where it had now fallen. From within it, he produced a small, pale crystal. Its edges had been smoothed but it was otherwise uncut from the original formation it had grown in, with a small secondary shard protruding from the main body. Against the light of day, the colouration of the crystal was difficult to see but it seemed to hold a mild greenish hue. The old Bivall held it out to Bomoor, “There is nothing more she would have wanted besides you accepting this crystal. Please take it quickly before my children see.”
Bomoor took it as requested and closed his hand firmly around the gift. He brought his closed hand up to his forehead, respectfully acknowledging the final act of the one he had lost, “Is there any more I can do for your family? Are any of you injured too?”
“A few cuts and bruises but we will all get by,” came the reply, “Malin held back from us suddenly and got caught right in the blast. This whole thing is chaotic. All that is happening here: the violence and the fear mongering; it is more than I can handle. But I always had her and she had her stubborn determination to see it through. You being here gives me hope that there is some semblance of purpose in the galaxy.”
Finally, he took his eyes away from Malin’s body and Bomoor mirrored him so they were face to face, “Now go. Let us grieve and do whatever it was my wife knew you would do. Goodbye grey sage.”
With that, he turned towards his family and joined them in their prayers. Bomoor realised that he had started walking away, drawn onwards by a momentum. He was heading back towards Thendleton’s landcruiser and the hotel steps. There was something more for him to do in that direction. As he drew nearer he saw someone emerge from the partially-collapsed entrance. With a lightsaber at his side, he knew it must be Theon. He was carrying a body.
STORY CONTINUED IN “The Avalan Crisis: Less than Regal”
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