He had taken the point position, riding a little ahead of Loden Greatstorm and Bell Zettifar. He liked them both. Loden had a sense of humor about things that was very welcome among the Jedi. Porter had met many in their Order who took things far too seriously. Life was long, and they had the gift of the Force. Why be stoic? The vows didn’t mean they were dead.

And Bell…Bell was a wonderful young man. Still figuring himself out, but he was only eighteen years old. He shouldn’t know very much about himself at that age anyway. But someday, he would be the kind of Jedi held up as an example to future generations.

Assuming Loden didn’t kill him in training first.

Porter brought his focus back to the task at hand. Jagged ironstone slopes scraped up to either side, and the way ahead narrowed. The Jedi didn’t slow, but they brought their steelees into line, moving through the canyon single-file.

The Nihil with their captives were still some distance ahead, but the Jedi were gaining. Wouldn’t be long now. He recalled battles long past, pulled up strategies for hostage situations. The Nihil clearly thought the family was valuable, and wouldn’t want to hurt them unnecessarily. That gave Porter and his team an advantage. Still, they would need to move fast. The best would be for one of them—Loden, probably—to use the Force to yank the family free of the Nihil, while he and Bell moved on the kidnappers.

Odds were these Nihil had never fought Jedi before—most people hadn’t, and even if they’d heard stories, mere words couldn’t do the experience justice. So they might not know how foolish it would be to try to fight using blasterfire. A blaster bolt fired at a Jedi was essentially the same as shooting at yoursel—

The tiniest whiff of danger, whether some signal from the Force or just long instincts honed from many other rides through many other narrow canyons with enemies on the horizon. The sound of a blaster rifle firing. Porter Engle whipped up his lightsaber, moving to deflect the attack—but it was not aimed at him.

His steelee reared up, pain filling its mind and heart and echoing through Porter. He pulled back his link to the animal and leapt free as it crumpled to the ground, digging up furrows in the hard dirt with its metallic hooves. He somersaulted in midair, using his lightsaber to knock back a few more shots. The Nihil had clearly hidden themselves up in the hills, waiting to ambush the Jedi.

Porter landed.

“Cowards,” he spat.

More blasts rained down, from either side, but now he had the angles figured, and the angles and pace of blasterfire told him the story. Only two shooters.