Chapter 3: Hope & MachinationsA hard fist hit Rikard’s chin, momentarily disorienting him. Lashing out blindly with the Force, he projected an omnidirectional Push in the attempt to give him time to recover. Instinctively ducking, he felt the heat of his opponent’s lightsaber singe the gorget of his armor; clearly the Sith Lord had been able to evade Rik’s Push. Now desperate, he once again trusted on his luck: sweeping his saberstaff in a wide orbit, he used a burst of Force Speed to get within the Sith’s lightsaber proximity throwing his saberstaff in the air. This close, his opponent would be unable to use her weapon.
Or so he’d hoped.
Instead, he found himself frantically evading her reverse Shien grip. Rik didn’t think; he
moved. It was only by luck that his left hand grabbed ahold of the Sith’s wrist and not her blade. Simultaneously, he locked her in a tight arm bar, rendering her saber effectively useless. For her.
Wrapping his other arm around, he gripped the Sith’s saber hilt while pulling her off her feet and into the air. And with precise timing and acute Force acumen, the tip of his falling saberstaff impaled her head, falling straight through her body, and finally lodging into the ground below. Throwing the body away from him, Rik called his saberstaff back into his waiting hands.
“Rik—DOWN!” Slo’ma’s shout was all the warning that Rikard got before the taller man’s lightsaber swung towards him, the golden blade bright in the twilight dusk.
Throwing himself to the side, Rikard landed hard but managed to pull himself into a roll and back up again before reigniting his saberstaff. He came up, twin green blades at the ready. Upon realizing that there were no enemies around he finally relaxed, looking behind him to see what his friend had saved him from.
…Damn I must be tired… He thought. Only a meter from his feet lay two more of Kaan’s Sith Lords. “Thanks.” He said in between breaths. Slo’ma was himself subdued, his only response a terse nod. And then, his legs gave out from beneath him.
Rikard hurried to help his friend back to his feet, grunting in effort as he hoisted Slo’ma off the ground. Together, the two Jedi made their way to one of the many small outcroppings of rock jutting from the muddy ground. Sparsely-leaved pine trees surrounded them, many of them blasted and shattered. And—at least for a brief moment—the fighting no longer seemed to be around them. Now, most of the battle seemed to be focused in the forest along the horizon.
Breathing heavily, Rikard drank deeply from one of the canteens he had secreted about his armor, handing it to Slo’ma after he’d finished. Gratefully, the taller man took it, finishing off the water within. Both men looked around the battlefield, surveying.
As with as frontline strategies, it had survived long enough to finally devolve into a melee free-for-all. Rikard had been right: enemy intel must have counted on there being no Singers left after the last Sith counterattack. Grinning grimly, Rikard’s blond beard pulled up on the side, tighter where his scar ran up his face. Yes, the Sith had taken the bait: heading the Jedi vanguard, Kiel had acted like a lightning rod…just as Rik and Kage Chillum had intended. The Sith had expected for Kiel to repeat his “gallantry” of the past battle…which amounted to the fool running headlong into the enemy lines. Well since he’d been so good at doing just that, Rik had “suggested” he do the same. And like a hammer hitting a rock, Kiel did just that.
Of course, the Sith line had held…but that was to be expected. What Kiel
did do right was to gather ALL attention to him…thus allowing the combined Vhal’Dan/Mak’Tor battalion of Sentinels, Shadows, Forcesages, and Singers under Master Jar'es'Kinsler’s command to flank the Brotherhood. And, as the hammer smashes the rock against the proverbial anvil, the Sith lines violently and spectacularly broke, the majority of the enemy cut off from any aid.
But that wasn’t to say that there had not been reinforcements. Indeed, the Dark One, Skere Kaan, was the one personally leading the counter-offensive on the exposed vanguard.
Or so he’d thought.
With perfect precision, the Dark One’s forces found themselves flanked by a joint battalion of Mak’Tor Cantors and Vhal’Dan Cataphracts. And leading the charge was the Cathar Speaker, Sarll Båz Rhadde.
Rik grimaced. He may be at odds with Sarll politically but he knew the Cathar was an excellent general. And an immensely powerful Jedi. Even if
half of what Rik had heard was to be believed, Sarll had killed no fewer than two dozen of the Dark One’s own Sith battlelords and had even engaged Kaan in one-on-one combat, if briefly and only after Master Jar'es'Kinsler had fought him for the majority of the battle.
Of course, the Dark One had been able to regroup—testament to his skill as a master tactician—but the sway of the war was now markedly in favor of the Jedi. Now…the Army of Light had to press the initiative.
Rikard ran his gloved hand through his short hair, careless of the drying blood.
…Wonder when that happened… He thought, surprised by the sudden pain of his head wound. Absently, he tapped the armored cuisses on his right thigh, the action releasing the medkit compartment. Removing a tube of poly-bacta, he squeezed some on his head, working it into the scalp with his other hand. Again he thought of Sarll.
His Cataphracts had been timely, personally saving Rikard. The Vhal’Dan Cataphracts were the regiment of Jedi that were intended to act as “crowd control” in the thick of battle. Heavily armored—some had said “overly so”—the Cataphracts had more ordinance than a dropship and more protection than a tank. As such, it tended to attract physically larger beings; somewhat necessary given the requirements of the power armor. Well, Rikard was always one to follow the maxim that “more was more” when it came to armor and armament. And when the Cataphracts had been combined with the Mak’Tor Cantors?
Rik allowed himself a grin. “Those Cantors of yours sure are useful.” He offered casually to his friend. Slo’ma turned his head slightly, a twin of Rik’s smile spreading on his own face.
“Yeah…of course, it helps when they’ve got a wall of Cataphracts to work their Singing from behind.” The taller man said just as casually. Rikard could only nod. The Cantors were akin to Forcesages…and not.
He’d seen what Vhal’Dan Forcesages could do when given proper time and preparation. Well, the Cantors could emulate them but with the added bonus of supplementing one another in a synergy that became more than the sum of its parts. Slightly shaking his head in remembrance, Rikard was once again truly amazed of the display of power against the Brotherhood.
Too bad that Cantors were a rarity amongst even the Mak’Tor Singers.
“Did you see Jar’es?” Slo’ma’s tired voice suddenly sounded excited, surprising Rikard. “He was able to fight off the Dark One himself.” The taller man smiled. “Makes me think that we’ve got a chance…”
Rik couldn’t argue. When he’d first seen Jar’es’ unique orange lightsaber, it had renewed almost everyone’s spirits. And with it in hand, Jar’es had singlehandedly repulsed several waves of the Sith offensive. Rik knew that Jar’es was a powerful Singer but he also suspected that there was more to it than that. He’d wanted to ask Slo’ma about it…but he figured if his friend had wanted for him to know, he’d bring it up himself sooner or later.
Nevertheless, the thought of that orange blade and the man that wielded it did give him hope.
And for what seemed to first time since the Sith had attacked Istic III, Rikard allowed himself a broad smile while a seed of hope took root deep within him.
<<<<< >>>>>
The fighting had been brutal regardless of location but within the confines of the Virdunne Forest, the hand-to-hand combat was especially bloody: both Jedi and Sith had reached a virtual stalemate without either army gaining advantage over the other.
All in accordance to his will.
Bane smiled. Standing atop the cliff, a tall and imposing figure, he could see his plans coming to fruition. This would present him the opportunity to dispatch many of the enemy forces, and not just counting the Jedi. Of course, Kaan would know nothing of his true intentions. Not until it was too late…
“Bane. I see you’ve already assessed the battlefield below. Tell me what you see.” Skere Kaan’s deep voice boomed, commanding and arrogant. He was a fool, Bane thought. But a
dangerous fool nevertheless.
Standing tall a few meters behind Bane, the Dark One was surrounded by about 40 of his Sith Lords, Githany among them.
…Kriffing sycophants one and all… Bane thought contemptuously. But for now, he would utilize them as the tools that they were. And discard them as soon as their usefulness was at an end. His face betrayed nothing of his emotions, the Force none of his intentions.
Instead, in a clear voice Bane replied, “Our army is at an impasse with the Jedi, the forest canopy and thick underbrush impediments that hinder our advance. Against any normal commander, this would be problematic. But for a true Sith master, this presents no obstacle.” Deliberately, he closed his fist. And even though Bane knew that Kaan’s Sith Lords detested him, he also knew that his reputation—and his power—demanded that they pay attention. Bane pointed towards the forest below. “What our enemy believes is that they are safe, safe among the trees. I shall…
disabuse them of their folly.”
Kaan’s red eyes had a shrewd bent to them. “And how do you propose to accomplish this?” His gaze went from the forest below and back to Bane’s.
Bane’s eyes never once wavered.
Bane did not answer the question immediately. “Even now, our army is ineffectually spread out, attacking single Jedi whenever they’re found.” He deliberately stared at each Sith Lord gathered. “That is a fool’s errand. Instead, we should kill them all, wherever they hide,
en masse.”
With that, he began to utter the spidery language of the Ancient Sith. As each syllable was articulated, a red glow began to encompass Bane. “What I ‘propose’ is that we amalgamate our collective might and, using a focal conduit, completely annihilate the Jedi with a Force Wave.”
The gathered Sith Lords could feel the power radiating off of Bane, each wondering in both awe and trepidation: if such a feat was possible…
“And who will control these energies, becoming this ‘conduit?’” Kaan’s inquisitiveness superseded his disdain, a look of avarice beginning to affix itself upon his face. Bane smiled inwardly.
“I will. It is only I that knows of the proper ritual, the correct words to intone.” Bane pointed at Githany, his voice commanding. “Wrap yourselves fully in the Dark Side. Place your intent upon the knife’s edge between ‘thought’ and ‘action.’” He then addressed the rest of the Sith Lords. “Follow her example.”
Within a minute the red glow that surrounded Bane seemed to infect those he’d instructed, first Githany and, as more of them acquired the red halo, the glow began to pulse growing more potent and all of it seeming to flow within Bane. Soon, every single person on the cliff top was aglow with the power of the Dark Side, even Kaan.
Speaking the Ancient language of the Sith, Bane walked the precipice of immense Force energies, directing the flow, bending it to his will. He felt intoxicated; the Dark Side was a mighty river and his to direct. Surely, every single Forceuser in the area could feel him with the power that he held?! And with the final word spoken Bane opened his eyes, releasing the pent-up Force Wave.
In an instant, the Wave manifested itself in an enormous conflagration, a towering inferno that seemed to especially seek out the Jedi in the forest below. Whenever the flames touched anything, it left only a charred husk that, after a few seconds, would fall apart as ash. Countless Jedi died…as well as many Sith. But what did they matter? Certainly nothing—
less than nothing—to Bane. And it was he alone who wielded the power, a fiery crucible of truth:
He was death.
He suddenly became aware that the pillar of fire had shrunk, the power within him was
lessened. Turning his gaze from the forest, he saw that several of the Sith Lords were no longer surrounded by the red glow of Sith magiks. Someone was interrupting the ritual! His eyes searched the crowd before him. And foremost among them and absent the red glow stood Kaan, shaking his head while proclaiming loudly, “This is…
beneath a Sith Lord. Ours is the power of FEAR. And the Jedi are right to FEAR us…but for them to truly know such is to look upon us. And dread. And die.” Kaan’s contempt echoed throughout the clifftop, his eyes locked upon Bane’s, a snide bent to his mouth. “Come. We shall take our speeders and kill these Jedi in the Sith way. And we will taste their terror.” And with that, they all left Bane, joining their lord and master as he prepared to hunt down the escaping Jedi.
All except Githany and one other Sith Lord.
As she approached Bane, he affixed his raptorlike gaze upon her, his seething rage controlled but storm threatening to explode. “Kaan is a fool. A
true Sith is more than just the fear they inspire; no, they are death incarnate.” Slowly he nodded his head, whispering
fools under his breath.
Worried that the Dark One would still hear them, Githany adopted a blasé attitude. “Come now Bane. This way it’s more
fun than what you were proposing. Who wants to kill all of those Jedi without seeing their miserable faces in their moment of death?” True, she feared Bane…but she was absolutely terrified of the Dark One. When he said nothing, she boarded her speeder and joined Kaan thinking to finally divest herself of Bane.
Or so she believed.
Much like the Jedi below him, he would disabuse her of her own imprudence. But first…
Looking around, he finally took stock of the lone Sith Lord standing in front of him.
…Kopecz… Bane named him, face impassive.
Meeting him gaze-for-gaze, the Sith Lord’s countenance was instead ablaze with anger. And rebuke. “Know this, Bane: your loyalty to the Dark Side before the Brotherhood will not be accepted by the Sith Lords. You are alone. You will submit to the Dark One’s will. Or you
will die.” And with that, Kopecz left upon his speeder.
Bane stood alone atop the cliff, the flames below within the forest casting a hellish, smoldering radiance across the land. And much like the fires that burnt the trees into ash, he knew that he would be the conflagration that razed the Sith and incinerated the Brotherhood. Kaan had not been condescending, or at least not only. No, even as he’d left, Bane saw within Kaan’s eyes the glimpse of his true feelings.
He was afraid. He was fearful of Bane and the power that he’d wielded. Not that it mattered;
all of the Brotherhood would soon share in his lament.
He scowled momentarily. Githany. He’d thought that she’d seen the error of the Brotherhood, that the Sith could never survive their machinations, their incompetence, their
existence. Unfortunately, she was as much a coward as the rest.
Without another look, Bane left. No matter; he would find a new apprentice, an acolyte worthy of the mantle of Sith, one that would give the Dark Side strength.
Someone who would eventually supplant and replace him. As it should be. Only the strong could gain mastery of the Dark Side.
Only the strong.