Now they could distinguish the shape of the walls around them and the stray rocks in their path. Obi-Wan walked farther into the cave and gestured at the black walls. "Here is our history."
Over the centuries, Jedi history had been recorded on the walls of the cave. The drawings were made of strong shapes and lines, just enough to suggest the truth of a scene or the character of a Jedi. Names were inscribed in rows that went from the ceiling to the floor. There were also signs and symbols that Obi-Wan and Anakin didn't understand.
Go back. Here is what you fear.
The voice was a murmur, more like a running brook. Anakin looked at Obi-Wan questioningly.
"It begins now," Obi-Wan said softly. "You must go forward alone."
A Jedi stepped forward from the cave wall. His tunic fell all the way to the tips of his bare feet. The lightsaber he held looked like an ancient weapon. His expression was so fierce that Anakin stopped dead. "There are so many pleasures in the galaxy. Why do you deprive yourself? The Jedi path is narrow. Why choose it? It will only bring you grief."
Obi-Wan waited to see what his Padawan would do. The time for his instruction was over. After a moment, Anakin walked forward, and the Jedi Knight disappeared.
Anakin was soon swallowed up by the darkness of the cave. Obi-Wan could wait by the entrance, but he had only been to the cave once, years ago, and he found his curiosity just as strong. His steps took him farther into the cave. He was willing to lose sight of Anakin; he knew his Padawan must face the cave alone. But he did not want him to get too far away.
He saw a shape move toward him. A tall Jedi, powerfully built but still graceful. A rugged face with compassionate eyes.
"Master," he breathed. Qui-Gon smiled.
Obi-Wan's heart cracked. Joy rushed through him. Tears sprang to his eyes.
"I have missed you."
Qui-Gon said nothing. He made a gesture across his throat, as though he could not speak. His image, Obi-Wan saw now, shimmered faintly.
Suddenly, Qui-Gon whirled and his lightsaber was in his hand. He struck again and again at an unseen enemy. Obi-Wan stumbled back, his hand on the hilt of his lightsaber. He knew that this was not truly Qui-Gon, that his Master was not in danger, but the impulse to help was so strong he nearly drew his weapon.
Before he could do so, Qui-Gon suddenly staggered. Now he was facing Obi-Wan. He saw the shock in his Master's eyes.
It was how he had looked when he'd received the death blow from the Sith Lord.
"No!" Obi-Wan shouted. He could not relive that moment again. He could not. This is not my test, Master. It is my Padawan's. Do not do this to me.
…
Qui-Gon fell to his knees. His eyes remained on Obi-Wan. The sadness in his gaze tore into Obi-Wan, searing and hot.
The image disappeared, only to reappear a heartbeat later. Again, he saw Qui-Gon double over. Again, he saw him sink to his knees. Obi-Wan was as helpless to reach out as he'd been four years earlier. Was he being taunted with his own failure to prevent his Master's death?
"No," Obi-Wan whispered.
Again and again, he was forced to relive Qui-Gon's slow dying. He groped for calm but could not find it. All he could feel was pain. He raged again at his helplessness. Trapped behind the energy bars, he had watched his Master fall. It was the central event of his life. Why was he forced to relive it here?
On his knees, Qui-Gon reached out to Obi-Wan. This time, the image did not fade. Grief choked Obi-Wan as he took a half step toward his Master.
Something was different this time. Qui-Gon's eyes were not filmed with pain. They were clear. They were holding a message. A warning. A plea. Obi- Wan did not know, "What is it, Master? What are you telling me?"
Qui-Gon shook his head helplessly. His hand trembled as he reached out to Obi-Wan. His fingers could almost touch Obi-Wan's tunic. As they came closer, the image dissolved into shimmering sparks of light.
Obi-Wan was so shaken he fell to his knees as Qui-Gon had. He felt the dampness of his cheeks, marked by tears. He had been given a message, but he could not decipher it.
All he knew was that he had just faced his greatest fear. Since Qui- Gon's death, he had been afraid that he would let down Qui-Gon even as he struggled to uphold his legacy. Was Qui-Gon warning him that he was in danger of failing, after all?
Chapter 3
Visions and voices. Shadows and echoes. What was so hard about this?
Anakin strode confidently into the depths of the cave. Jedi appeared and disappeared. Voices murmured at him to retreat, that he did not want to face what he had come to face. That despite his connection to the Force, he would never be a true Jedi.
Anakin shook off the voices. He knew the differences between things he could fight and things he could not. Why be afraid of shadows?
Then he stopped dead. He saw himself.
He was seven or eight years old and wore the rough garments of a slave. He sat in a corner by the cave wall, tinkering with an unseen object. Anakin heard the sound of a bell. A musical sound, light and pleasing.
Suddenly, the bell rolled directly toward him. He flinched and it stopped at his feet. Blood poured from the opening and spilled over his boots.
It isn't blood, he told himself. He could hear his racing heart pound in his ears. Shadows and echoes. That's all it is.
He was relieved when the vision of himself disappeared. A moment later a woman emerged from the darkness, her hair down around her shoulders.
Shmi.
"Mother. Mom — "
She did not hear him or see him. She ran straight past him. Tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks. Her face was shiny with sweat. The sweat of terror. He smelled her terror, felt the air move his hair.
He turned, but she disappeared. Then when he turned forward, there she was. She ran toward him again, her face stretched by horror.
This he could not bear. Anakin squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, another figure had joined Shmi. A huge man, more like a creature than a human. Anakin could not see his face, which was in shadow.
He grabbed Shmi roughly and threw her to the ground like a pile of rubbish.
"No!" Anger pounded in him, and he rushed forward. He seemed to hit an invisible wall and bounced back. The shadowy figure raised a hand to Shmi.
She curled up in a ball to absorb the blow. Her knees were drawn up and her head was tucked down. There was something familiar about the posture that caused dread to fill Anakin.
"No!" Anakin shouted.
Shmi looked directly at him for the first time. He saw the fear, the terror. This seemed familiar to him as well, as though it were a memory rather than a vision. But had he ever seen his mother afraid? Not that he could remember.
He wanted to bury himself in her arms, feel her strength, but he could not. He could not make the fear on her face go away. Was he seeing something that had actually happened? Or was he seeing the future? At that thought, his own fear rose.