And in the space where Kenobi's chest had been was now only the blue lightning of Skywalker's blade driving straight for Dooku's heart.
Only a desperate whirl to one side made what would have been a smoking hole in his chest into a line of scorch through his armorweave cloak.
Dooku thought, What?
...
He threw himself spinning up and away from the two Jedi to land on the situation table, disengaging for a moment to recover his composure-that had been entirely too close-but by the time his boots touched down Kenobi was there to meet him, blade weaving through a defensive velocity so bewilderingly fast that Dooku dared not even try a strike.
He threw a feint toward Kenobi's face, then dropped and spun in a reverse ankle-sweep-But not only did Kenobi easily overleap this attack.
Dooku nearly lost his own foot to a slash from Skywalker who had again come out of nowhere and now carved through the table so that it collapsed under Dooku's weight and dumped the Sith Lord unceremoniously to the floor. This was not in the plan.
Skywalker slammed his following strike down so hard that the shock of deflecting it buckled Dooku's elbows. Dooku threw himself into a backroll that brought him to his feet-and Kenobi's blade was there to meet his neck.
Only a desperate whirling slash-block, coupled with a wheel kick that caught Kenobi on the thigh, bought him enough time to leap away again, and when he touched down-Skywalker was already there.
Everyone watched in silence as both Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Dooku fought in an equal stand-off, the two Jedi proving to be more than adversaries to the Sith Lord. Obi-Wan's defensive moves of Soresu synchronized well with Anakin's Shien against Dooku's Makashi, so much so that Mace and Yoda were very impressed at how they were faring so far.
The first overhand chop of Skywalker's blade slid off Dooku's instinctive guard. The second bent Dooku's wrist. The third flash of blue forced Dooku's scarlet blade so far to the inside that his own lightsaber scorched his shoulder, and Dooku was forced to give ground.
Dooku felt himself blanch. Where had this come from? Skywalker came on, mechanically inexorable, impossibly powerful, a destroyer droid with a lightsaber: each step a blow and each blow a step. Dooku backed away as fast as he dared; Skywalker stayed right on top of him. Dooku's breath went short and hard.
He no longer tried to block Skywalker's strikes but only to guide them slanting away; he could not meet Skywalker strength-to-strength-no only did the boy wield tremendous reserves of Force energy, but his sheer physical power was astonishing-And only then did Dooku understand that he'd been suckered.
Skywalker's Shien ready-stance had been a ruse, as had his Ataro gymnastics; the boy was a Djem So stylist, and as fine a one as Dooku had ever seen. His own elegant Makashi simply did not generate the kinetic power to meet Djem So head-to-head. Especially not while also defending against a second attacker.
It was time to alter his own tactics.
He dropped low and spun into another reverse ankle-sweep-the weakness of Djem So was its lack of mobility-that slapped Skywalker's boot sharply enough to throw the young Jedi off balance, giving Dooku the opportunity to leap away-Only to find himself again facing the wheel of blue lightning that was Kenobi's blade.
Dooku decided that the comedy had ended.
Now it was time to kill.
Kenobi's Master had been Qui-Gon Jinn, Dooku's own Padawan; Dooku had fenced Qui-Gon thousands of times, and he knew every weakness of the Ataro form, with its ridiculous acrobatics.
He drove a series of flashing thrusts toward Kenobi's legs to draw the Jedi Master into a flipping overhead leap so that Dooku could burn through his spine from kidneys to shoulder blades-and this image.
This plan, was so clear in Dooku's mind that he almost failed to notice that Kenobi met every one of his thrusts without so much as moving his feet, staying perfectly centered, perfectly balanced, blade never moving a millimeter more than was necessary, deflecting without effort, riposting with flickering strikes and stabs swifter than the tongue of a Garollian ghost viper, and when Dooku felt Skywalker regain his feet and stride once more toward his back.
He finally registered the source of that blinding defensive velocity Kenobi had used a moment ago, and only then, belated ly, did he understand that Kenobi's Ataro and Shii-Cho had been ploys, as well.
Kenobi had become a master of Soresu.
Dooku found himself having a sudden, unexpected, overpowering, and entirely distressing bad feeling about this . . .
His farce had suddenly, inexplicably, spun from humorous to deadly serious and was tumbling rapidly toward terrifying. Realization burst through Dooku's consciousness like the blossoming fireballs of dying ships outside: this pair of Jedi fools had somehow managed to become entirely dangerous.
These clowns might-just possibly-actually be able to beat him.
No sense taking chances; even his Master would agree with that. Lord Sidious could come up with a new plan more easily than a new apprentice.
He gathered the Force once more in a single indrawn breath that summoned power from throughout the universe; the slightest whipcrack of that power, negligent as a flick of his wrist, sent Kenobi flying backward to crash hard against the wall, but Dooku didn't have time to enjoy it.
Skywalker was all over him.
The shining blue lightsaber whirled and spat and every overhand chop crashed against Dooku's defense with the unstoppable power of a meteor strike; the Sith Lord spent lavishly of his reserve of the Force merely to meet these attacks without being cut in half, and Skywalker-Skywalker was getting stronger.
Each parry cost Dooku more power than he'd used to throw Kenobi across the room; each block aged him a decade.
He decided he'd best revise his strategy once again.
He no longer even tried to strike back. Force exhaustion began to close down his perceptions, drawing his consciousness back down to his physical form, trapping him within his own skull until he could barely even feel the contours of the room around him; he dimly sensed stairs at his back, stairs that led up to the entrance balcony.
He retreated up them, using the higher ground for leverage, but Skywalker just kept on coming, tirelessly ferocious.
That blue blade was everywhere, flashing and whirling faster and faster until Dooku saw the room through an electric haze and now Kenobi was back in the picture: with a shout of the Force, he shot like a torpedo up the stairs behind Skywalker, and Dooku decided that under these rather extreme circumstances, it was at least arguably permissible for a gentleman to cheat.
"Guards!" he said to the pair of super battle droids that still stood at attention to either side of the entrance. "Open fire!"
Instantly the two droids sprang forward and lifted their hands. Energy hammered out from the heavy blasters built into their arms; Skywalker whirled and his blade batted every blast back at the droids, whos mirror-polished carapace armor deflected the bolts again. Galvened particle beams screeched through the room in blinding ricochets.
Kenobi reached the top of the stairs and a single slash of his lightsaber dismantled both droids. Before their pieces could even hit the floor Dooku was in motion, landing a spinning side-stamp that folded Skywalker in half.
He used his last burst of dark power to continue his spin into a blindingly fast wheel-kick that brought his heel against the point of Kenobi's chin with a crack like the report of a huge-bore slugthrower, knocking the Jedi Master back down the stairs. Sounded like he'd broken his neck.
Wouldn't that be lovely?
There was no sense in taking chances, however.
While Kenobi's bonelessly limp body was still tumbling toward the floor far below, Dooku sent a surge of energy through the Force. Kenobi's fall suddenly accelerated like a missile burning the last of its drives before impact.
The Jedi Master struck the floor at a steep angle, skidded along it, and slammed into the wall so hard the hydrofoamed permacrete buckled and collapsed onto him.
Obi-Wan felt uneasy, as this was going to be his future within short time's notice. While he had no doubts regarding Anakin's abilities, the fact that he was facing off against the Sith Lord on his own was something that he wasn't looking forward to.
This Dooku found exceedingly gratifying.
Now, as for Skywalker-Which was as far as Dooku got, because by the time his attention returned to the younger Jedi, his vision was rather completely obstructed by the sole of a boot approaching his face with something resembling terminal velocity.
The impact was a blast of white fire, and there was a second impact against his back that was the balcony rail, and then the room turned upside down and he fell toward the ceiling, but not really, of course: it only felt that way because he had flipped over the rail and he was falling headfirst toward the floor.
And neither his arms nor his legs were paying any attention to what he was trying to make them do. The Force seemed to be busy elsewhere, and really, the whole process was entirely mortifying.
He was barely able to summon a last surge of dark power before what would have been a disabling impact. The Force cradled him, cushioning his fall and setting him on his feet.
He dusted himself off and fixed a supercilious gaze on Skywalker, who now stood upon the balcony looking down at him-and Dooku couldn't hold the stare; he found this reversal of their original positions oddly unsettling.
There was something troublingly appropriate about it. Seeing Skywalker standing where Dooku himself had stood only moments ago ... it was as though he was trying to remember a dream he'd never actually had . . .
He pushed this aside, drawing once more upon the certain knowledge of his personal invincibility to open a channel to the Force. Power flowed into him, and the weight of his years dropped away. He lifted his blade, and beckoned.
Skywalker leapt from the balcony. Even as the boy hurtled downward, Dooku felt a new twist in the currents of the Force between them, and he finally understood.
He understood how Skywalker was getting stronger. Why he no longer spoke. How he had become a machine of battle. He understood why Sidious had been so interested in him for so long.
Skywalker was a natural.
There was a thermonuclear furnace where his heart should be, and it was burning through the firewalls of his Jedi training. He held the Force in the clench of a white-hot fist. He was half Sith already, and he didn't even know it.
This boy had the gift of fury.
And even now, he was holding himself back; even now, as he landed at Dooku's flank and rained blows upon the Sith Lord's defenses, even as he drove Dooku backward step after step, Dooku could feel how Skywalker kept his fury banked be hind walls of will: walls that were hardened by some uncontrollable dread.
Yoda widened his eyes in alarm, noticing Anakin's growing aggressive stance against the Count.
Dread, Dooku surmised, of himself. Of what might happen if he should ever allow that furnace he used for a heart to go supercritical.
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