Star Wars: Heir to the Sith (Part 1) (#Wattys2018 shortlist)

Chapter 41: "Me? My name is Lance Dare."

The ground beneath Ella heaved and rolled, waking her. She opened her eyes to the glare of the fast rising sun, turned away, and found herself staring into the huge eyes of Old Moss.

In an instant she recalled where she was. She glanced down, leaning over the side of the giant herbivore's lip.

The ground was close, no more than twenty feet. The strands of Old Moss's beard dragged over the surface as they floated slowly along.

"Where are we?" she asked herself. She looked to the horizon, but the Marl trees were towering over them on all sides, leaving her no chance of finding a landmark. All she could tell was that they were heading in the direction of the rising sun, and that meant that they would have headed away from the palace.

Old Moss gave a tiny snort from his nostril. The warm air washed over Ella in a cloud of musky scent that made her wrinkle her nose.

"Oh Moss!" She wafted the air in front of her face clear with her hand. "If I didn't know you better I would say you were being rude," she murmured.

The great eyes narrowed and fixed Ella with their immense pupils.

Old Moss inhaled.

Ella panicked. She held her hands out, trying to calm him.

"No! Don't do it–"

The nostrils flared and a blast of brownish gunge covered her torso.

Ella screamed.

"Moss! Oh Moss!" She stumbled back as the nostrils inhaled again, desperate to avoid being covered in a second discharge.

But she went too far.

Her left heel slid into empty space. Ella's arms flailed wildly as she fought for balance.

"Whoah!"

And then she fell.

Down she went, through the tangle of Old Moss's beard. Her hands grabbed at what they could to arrest her descent, her legs and feet sought for any hold.

Within a heartbeat she hit the ground, feet first, turning into a roll as her tutors had taught her. She was cushioned by the herbivore's beard, and as she rolled to a stop she realised that the hydrobloat had sunk to the ground before she had slipped. She had fallen no more than ten feet.

Old Moss heaved his head upward, lifting his beard away from her. The creature rose gracefully, and before Ella realised it he was already beyond her reach.

"Wait!" she yelled, standing, her voice hoarse. "You can't just leave me here! I don't know where I am, Moss! I haven't any food or water and no comms . . ." Ella's eyes watered. She didn't know why she was trying to explain herself to one of the herd. There was no way he could understand. "Please . . ."

She fell to her knees as the thoughts of the previous night came back. She had been more than lucky to survive first the skarn and the TIE and then the desiccation slugs, and now she had no way of knowing where she was, or how far the nearest outpost was. Surely her luck had run out now?

Ella wiped away her tears, but they wouldn't stop. What had happened to the others? To Tayre and to Arnaud and to Jish? Had they suffered the same fate as Valsum?

Old Moss made a sound from deep inside his lungs. It was a great mooing, familiar to every cattle farmer from the core worlds to the outer rim. The floating herbivore repeated it after Ella didn't react, and then a third time, shorter and more urgently.

Finally, she opened her eyes to see the shape of a man walking toward her from out of the sun. As he neared she made out his features. He was tall and lean and had sandy coloured hair that waved in the breeze. His pale skin told her that he was not often outdoors. He was dressed in a dull green jacket and dark trousers, and in his mouth he smoked a wooden pipe which gave a pleasant smell. Ella guessed his age at nearly forty.