CHAPTER 25- In Midnights Grasp
Part 5
Midnights Grasp
The TempleLike sleet the particles of energy fell upon the shattered floor as Zearic pushed through toward Karm who knelt over the remnants that
had been Mendax.
Karm’s body had a slight glow that was only gradually diminishing as the light of the stars and dimming glows of the orbital battle poured in from the open vista that
had once been a dome above them.
So many things that once
had been and were now no more.
Zearic reached down putting the thought aside for the moment and took Mendax discarded sabre in his hand, feeling the dark weight of the crystal within. He had every intention of handing it to the Mak’Tor Kage who was now pushing through the ruins to reach them.
But for reasons he couldn’t explain Zearic turned and knelt toward a ruined column as Karm looked through sweat drenched eyes.
Like a defeated chieftain pledging surrender Zearic offered up the sabre on bended knee to the figure that resolved form the shadows of the ruined temple.
This was right and fitting that he, an abominable accident should offer fealty to the Pure Master Race… it seemed so clear now, he was to deliver the fallen Ferroans sabre back to the ones who had gifted it to her.
“Zearic step back!” Silman called as he felt the weight of the sabre leave his hands
“You!” Silman was almost speechless at the sight of the thing – he had heard reports from Ken, then Arnor and Karmack, and even Jaim and Zearic, but this was the first time he had seen one of these things in person. Although to say ‘see’ was a misnomer it was more noting the vague mist where the light died around its form like some ancient vampyr.
“Drop your weapons at once,”
Karmacks eye fixed on the being and noted what was in its left hand - a sphere…like on Geonosis…
The dying embers of the Ancient Ones power connected threads of thought, teased meaning from snippets of the last few weeks.
“That was why you revived Mendax, you knew I’d use the Ancient One against her…” Karmack rasped out the realization, Arnor hobbling over to his side along with Ju’Lus master of healing.
“I refused to give you the Crystal, you waited for me to unlock and use it instead,” Karm whispered his throat still sore from the song that had erupted from him it seemed the healing powers of the Ancient One only went so far – and could do nothing to hold off the growing dread of the true antecedent of all this destruction.
He raised a swaying finger to point at the orb
“It’s a recording device…all this just to…”
“You psychopathic parasite – drop it!” Silman yelled as he understood the import of Karmacks words and was in no mood for mercy as his adoptive home world burnt around him, the symbolic centre of their faith in tatters and under the pall of the Shadow Daemon that had dogged the Mak’Tors steps and reanimated the woman who had done all this.
“You are under arrest,” Silman pointed his sabre straight at the creature, Master of Blades L'Gan'Zane on his left, and J'Nor'Kroven, Master of Balance to his right.
For a moment Silman wondered if the being was actually alive it stood so still, the only easily discernible part of it was Mendax saber on its belt.
“I have permission to be here.” A genderless voice echoed from it mechanically as a Military Code Cylinder bearing a M’Tzigon crest floated before it before illuminating with a blue holo of an Access Pass, festooned with electronic authentication signatures from General Cliff.
“Legal authorisation to be present, carry arms and move freely, signed by your own Chief of Staff, if you attempt to stop me leaving, you will breach your own laws,”
“And I break my Oath as a Knight if I let an Evil that would let a world burn and revive a madwoman just to document some force powers go unchallenged”
A handful of Knights not completely fatigued or injured from the fight with the droids and darksiders before that formed behind him.
The next words seethed from between the Zabracks teeth as he flooded the force into his limbs, fearing the fight to come yet knowing his demands would be refused.
“Throw down your…devices…and weapons, and surrender,”
Zearic in between the Kage and the Shadow slowly rose, his newly restored hand trembling like an addicts seeking a fix as it sought his sabre to calm the ragged nerves. His mind was torn between his friendship to the Mak’Tor and the indescribable pull for the…he didn’t even know what to call it – all he knew for certain was he couldn’t stop the internal conflict erupt into the real world.
“What have you done to him…” Silman gasped as Karmacks eyes widened in time with the blazing energy of Zearics glacial blade lighting up the gloom casting a hideous shadow on the creature that had him enthralled.
Both men knew Zearic would never willing turn on them – whatever ‘healing’ they had performed on him had obviously not been absent of some kind of mind control.
Around the figure more knights formed, Jaim in the rear expert in mental techniques perhaps the only one to sense that perhaps Zearics enthrallment was not so much imposed from outside but…
welling up from his very genes.
“Your last chance…release him and surrender – or die,” The Kage pronounced never more certain of a decision to lead the Mak’Tor into battle, even as Zaeric shifted into a defensive stance to protect the monster – Silmans heart was already so heavy with the sorrow of damage done that losing Zearic – if it had to be done - couldn’t add to it anymore.
Your Last Chance…the warrior who stood against the strength of the Mak’Tor reflected on another Jedi Leader who had used those same words, a Grand Master no less who also thought to ‘arrest’ him.
Clipping the orb to his pack he gestured for Zearic to lower his blade and turned to leap away.
“Stop him!”
Silman, Zane and Kroven sprang forward sabres humming to life, as they came upon the figure time slowed for all of them except the Dark Warrior, who swiftly skidded down and low straight toward L'Gan'Zane, Master of Blades.
Before Zane could build the force in her limbs enough to match her opponents speed the Dark Warrior had the Master of Blades wrist in his hand, rising on strong legs from the crouch he pulled the Mak’Tors arms over her head with a rapid pop that dislocated the shoulders whilst crushing down on the wrist that became limp as her sabre dropped.
While the pain in her arm slowly made its way through myelinated neuron paths to her somatosensory cortex a palm slammed into Zane’s sternum, her ribs retching back into her organs in bony fragments. Yet neither of these things truly mattered.
Karms slowly diminishing hyper acute senses saw a thousand needles puncture through Zane’s mental guards – the best Force Thorn he had ever seen was sloppy butchery compared to the surgical precision that lanced the Master of Blades mind. As Master of Blades it was Zane’s role to excel in all forms of sabre combat – to know all the Maenowans and Council members strengths and weaknesses and find ways to innovate and overcome them.
All that knowledge slid like mercury to their enemy.
As Zane dropped Silman swung down to where the enemy had been a moment before but found nothing. He was already moving on Kroven, again keeping low and fluid, as Kroven took a quick back step to try and allow Silman to surround he found it was too late.
A low spinning kick smashed into both Krovens knees, smacking out the knee caps and ruining the lower femur and upper tibia. With malignant grace the Dark warrior followed through with an upper cut that put Krovens teeth into his nose while once more leaching out thoughts and memories from the Master of Balance with rapacious hunger..
Zearic stood stone still as two members of the Mak’Tor Council of Balance were taken out in mere seconds, they were not dead – absolutely crippled – but alive and decades of knowledge, research, experience and training all consumed as easily as light by the shadow that felled them.
Silman felt his skin tingle as every drop of force energy he could summon filled his body – he needed speed and strength as he had when he faced Cha’s droid – more in fact. He felt the air resist the sudden movement of his body as he dodged a fist aimed at his shoulder that would no doubt have wrecked it.
Seeing two of their master’s fall the Knights that could lit their blades and prepared to strike even as Silman went on the offensive against the Dark Warrior who easily avoided the Zabracks sabre staffs rapid flourishes.
A short sharp spike in the force and Karmack grabbed at Arnor and Ju’lus “Cut off your…”
‘Mind’ would’ve been the next word but it was too late – like boils the conscious stream of thought of over a dozen knights in the ruined temple were suddenly lanced, thoughts and feelings a messy ooze that flowed all over the place.
Some fared better, even avoided the first needle of mental assault, Jaim and Chillum even resisted the second, Jaim expert in mental techniques was still mostly coherent after the third as well…none made it past the fourth from the seemingly unlimited pool of metaphysical weaponry.
Arnor flopped onto Karm painfully as Zearic watched the blue blade of Silman try and fail to cut the dark mist that moved about him.
Silman could already feel the blaze in his chest, the pounding behind his eyes, the unstable feeling of moving much too fast - like riding on an out of control hover-bike he tried to keep himself from flying off his own legs.
All about him knights flopped and crawled trying to regain their sense first of
who they were, then
what has happening.
Silman wasn’t disappointed in them, they had already fought with such honour he couldn’t be prouder – it was on Silman now to lead the fight against the darkness – as Kage it was only fitting.
Each foot fall cracked another crater into the already shattered marble floor, each missed strike blasted a hurricane of displaced air into the night, churning the dust and debris into a storm about them.
Neither seemed to make any progress, they simply danced in a strange attraction and repulsion – matter and anti matter on the event horizon of existence, pulled together yet knowing when they came together only one would triumph.
As Arnor slowly recovered she felt Karms weakened hands holding her down, his body shielding her head and upper body as best he could. Zearic was fixed in place mind a blank as his face received a number of small cuts from flying shards of stone.
The recovering Knights saw their Kages skin luminous with pure energy – as though the Hand of the Maker were upon him, the touch from which no mortal could survive – infused with the pure energy of the Force to destroy the darkness that swirled around him.
An Angel fought an inconclusive battle trying to strike down a Daemon who remained unarmed – whether from preference or pride none could tell. The battle screeched across the far end of the once domed Temple, force blasts pounded Columns into dust, Silmans staff seared through metal that cut as easily as paper.
He was no longer sweating, no longer feeling, the pure force energy he drew in soothed all pains as it ate away at the Zabracks cells one by one – what seemed like divine luminosity was a last ditch effort, to trade flesh for the pure force energy.
Silman knew he there was no going back, but to destroy such an evil was worth his life. Without a healing channel of power Karmack too knew there could be no surviving it yet he also knew Silmans sacrifice would be in vain.
The thread of the song that surrounded the dark warrior - that had echoed in the confines of the Vyths caverns and leeched off of Zearic himself had barely changed – Silman was giving up his life to match his enemy, and his enemy had barely touched the Force.
He didn’t need to – the Kage was strong but the Dark Warrior knew 65% of his effort was needed just to put him on the same level of strength and speed that came naturally to the warrior, another 25% to avoid unfamiliar techniques, and the remaining 10% wouldn’t even cause a sweat for him to match.
As Silmans body began to break apart more and more he realised his error – his starting point was so far behind his enemies that all his power was needed just to catch up. That didn’t mean he couldn’t win…it just meant he needed to win another way.
Moving out of a diagonal strike from his low guard toward the head his attempt was met with a millimetre perfect dodge, Silman tensed his calloused bleeding hands and flicked his wrists out, sending the blade spinning out wildly – the blue tip catching his enemy off guard enough to slice a thin line in the black pauldron. Silman almost laughed, it had taken three Maenowons just to get that strike…
As the Dark warrior re positioned, Silman simply charged like a Razor Ball player to tackle grabbing the warrior around the ribs with all the momentum he could build.
But he didn’t collapse to the ground – Silman had assumed he weighed perhaps twice a normal Knight in armour – he weighed over 300 KG
before the ultradense armour. Even as Silman’s blazing body stared to burn through the plating, a knee rose up and two elbows came down to slam through the Zabracks torso, ruining what was left of his spine, and slushing his main organs.
It made no difference, his body as a mere vessel for the luminous being that had been Kage Silman Lo that now prepared to implode. The force flashed a brilliant white that Arnor could see through her husband’s body as a counter blow shattered the Kages grip, another knee put the Zabracks body near standing as the Dark warrior rapidly sidestepped the renewed charge, grasped the Kage’s glowing head from the side and twisted round and up to part it from the body.
There were ways to reconnect and even survive such an attack – but Silman knew none of them. The headless body flopped forward, a hole ridden remnant as the head was crushed in Midnights Grasp.
<<<<>>>>
The peace that descended over the Temple was broken by the hum of approaching vehicles,
Sword of Light Squads hit the ground and took up positions around the Knights as Cliff stepped onto the dust that was the Temple, idly scowling at the Droids standing in lifeless sentinel where they had been shut off.
All the Knights seemed stunned to silence for some reason, likely to do with the pyrotechnics he had seen as they approached in the LAATs.
One figure in extremely black armour walked toward him, holding out a Military Code Cylinder Cliff recognised as one of three he had given to Cha for the Aertemis Industries overseers, a concession he had made for the short notice supply of extra droids was they be allowed to have field observers.
“General Cliff, your…melee infantry here...attacked me directly even after I presented this evidence of my legal authorisation to them - I was forced to defend myself.”
“Apologies…” Cliff said cautiously “No doubt a result of the mix up with the droids friend/foe targeting…”
“It was unwise to deploy these melee infantry to this particular theatre without resolving that issue first General…” the Aertemis industries employee noted as he headed past.
Cliff scowled “I didn’t order these Knights here…Silman stuck his sabre in
despite my orders…”
The Dark Warrior already 15 metres past the General in the blink of an eye, replied in dry tones.
“He won’t be doing it again…”
<<<<>>>>
