Author's Note
I'll be brief so that you all can get to this next chapter, because it's quite a big one. Thank you SO much to everyone who has shown me love and support. After chapter 4 was published, I had a huge influx of reviews and private messages. I specifically want to thank alertpoet91 for the excitement and ideas you have given me. Your passion is infectious, and it really helped me get this chapter out in a reasonable time. Enjoy, everyone!
Chapter 6
35,354 B.B.Y.
Light. Blurry. Faded yellow. Sounds. Coughing. The clanking of metal. The clattering of chains. Smells. Mold. Dust. Dirt. Body odor. Jamous was introduced to all of these things one at a time as he slowly came out of his unconscious stupor. He opened his eyes slowly to dirty, rocky ground. He was laying on his belly.
"Are you okay?"
Jamous slowly rolled around on his back to find the voice that had spoken to him. His vision was stilled blurred, but he could see the small of figure of a person with ashen hair.
"Lana?" he mumbled.
"What?" It was a woman. "What did you just say?" She got closer to Jamous, and his vision came slowly back to him, he realized this woman wasn't Lana at all. Her hair was the same ashen color as Lana's, but her eyes were a deep hazel, not at all like Lana's fiery blue. She also looked much older than Lana, late thirties maybe, but her face looked like it had gone through the abuse of a hundred years. She had deep wrinkles in her forehead, and purple bags under her eyes. Her lips were thin and chapped, as if she never smiled. She grabbed Jamous by his shoulders and shook him. "Did you just say 'Lana'? What does that name mean to you?"
The haze over Jamous's vision finally lifted completely, and he connected the dots. Before him, in rags for clothing, in this dark, rank cement cell, was Lana's mother. He sat up on his haunches. "I came here, to Kyrean, with Lana, your daughter. We were here to find you."
As he said that, the woman's face exploded into a face a raw, unpracticed joy, like a sun shining on a forest on the first day of spring. Then, it disappeared, and even more worry than before replaced it. "Is she okay? Is my daughter okay?"
"I . . ." Jamous faltered. "I don't know. We were staying at an inn near the slums district. I don't know what's happened. I was there, and now I'm here."
The woman closed her eyes. "My Lana. Here. In Kyrean. Oh, Force, please keep her safe." After that, all worry was gone, and this unfounded determination set in the lines of her face. "My name is Cyri. I am Lana's mother, and we need to get out of here. We need to find Lana."
Jamous looked all around. "Where are we?"
"In Stripe's 'dungeon.' He has a fortress that he has built in the sewers of Kyrean. That's where we are. These are the cages that he holds the slaves or workers that cause him trouble."
"So we're in a dungeon, of a fortress, underneath the sewers of Kyrean?"
"Yes," Cyri replied.
"We have our work cut of for us then, don't we?" Jamous slowly rose to his feet. "I'm Jamous. I've been travelling with your daughter for close to four months now. We came here to find you." He walked over to the iron bar door that kept them locked in the cell and shook it with his hands.
"These cells are very secure," Cyri explained. "Stripe doesn't want anyone causing any more trouble than they're worth."
Jamous suddenly unleashed a wave of Force from his hands, causing the hinges of the door to snap and the lock to break. The door slammed against the hallway wall and then fell. "I don't think Stripe took into account who I really am," he said nonchalantly.
Cyri's mouth was agape. "You're a Je'daii?" she asked surprisedly.
"Not exactly. It's complicated."
Jamous peeked out the cell door and down the hallway on both sides. It was clear. "No guards?" he asked Cyri.
"No one is supposed to be able to break out of these cells," Cyri replied, "and Stripe is known for his big ego and overconfidence."
"Do you know where Stripe would be?"
"Yes, the fool has erected himself a makeshift 'throne room' in the center of his headquarters," she said venomously. "No doubt he's there, condescending on his lackeys and watching his slaves dance for him."
"Take me there," Jamous said. "Quickly."
"But what about Lana?"
A menacing glint shown across Jamous's eyes. "I'll make him tell us where she is. I need my weapons. Would they leave them in a specific room?"
"There is a storage room at the end of the hall. If Stripe didn't mount your weapons on his wall or something like that, then best chances are that they are in there."
The two crept down the hall. It was faintly lit with dirty yellow lights. All was quiet. It surprised Jamous that there were no guards. Wouldn't Stripe want at least one of his gang members down here to make sure that his "prisoners" didn't get into any trouble? If Jamous hadn't had the ability to sense through the rooms for life through the Force, he would have been edgy, thinking that this was a trap.
As they passed the three other cell doors along the hall, Jamous peeked through the bars of each one. The first two were empty, and the third had a woman lying on the floor. Jamous could feel through the Force that her life force was gone. The woman's head had dried and caked blood all around it.
"Malya," Cyri whispered quietly. "She had disappeared a week ago. None of us knew what had happened to her, but it looks like Stripe had thrown her down here."
"Did they execute her?" Jamous asked. He observed the woman's corpse closer. Her face was purple with bruises, and her clothes were ripped and tattered. There were scratches and cuts up and down her arms, and her fingernails were chipped and bent, as if she had been clawing and scratching in self-defense.
Cyri scoffed. "No, they didn't. Once Stripe throws you in his dungeon, you are doomed to a slow and agonizing death of abuse and rape. No one cares about a slave behind bars, so Stripe's men take it upon themselves to make sure we have a torturous death to end a torturous life."
"Well, Lana is not down here, so that's a good thing." He turned around to see anger and sadness and frustration on Cyri's face. "Hey," he said quietly as he put his arm on her shoulder, "I'll make sure Stripe pays for all the pain that he has caused. And we're going to find Lana. I promise."
The last room before the hall broke off into stairs that led up into the fortress did indeed have Jamous's two swords, still in their scabbards, and still hooked onto the belt that held them together. After checking both swords to make sure they hadn't been nicked or broken, Jamous slung them over his head and let the belt hang diagonally across his torso.
He looked to Cyri. "I need you to guide me to this throne room that Stripe has. We need to go quietly. If we come into any contact with his guards, you need to stay quiet and stay low. I will deal with them."
"Okay," Cyri replied. "Follow me."
They quietly stepped up the staircase which ended in another long hallway. There were doors on each side. The walls were covered in a moss and water dripped from the ceiling.
"His 'fortress' isn't all that impressive," Jamous mutters quietly.
"The sewers of Kyrean were built over three hundred years ago. Pipe bursts and overgrown moss and algae are common all throughout. Stripe cares only for his throne room and his personal quarters. All the rest of his base of operations is like this."
There was a scratching of metal on rock as one of the doors at the end of the hall opened. Jamous and Cyri ducked back into the stairs. Jamous put his finger to his lips and looked at Cyri as two pairs of footsteps could be heard coming towards them.
"I say we go down and show that grey haired slave a good time," a slimy, sleazy voice said.
"I don't know about that." The second voice was deep and slow. "She's Stripe's favorite bitch. He'd kill us if we put our hands on her."
"She was his favorite slave," the sleazy voice replied. "But not anymore, hence the reason why she was thrown down in the cages. I say we go down—"
As they got close to the stairs, Jamous jumped out from his hiding spot in the stairwell, pulling Blackened Night from its sheath. There was the slice of metal against skin and the two gangsters' heads fell to the floor, a clean cut through both of their necks. Both of their heads created criss-crossing trails of blood as they rolled in different directions. Other than the thuds of their headless corpses hitting the ground, all was silent.
Cyri came up from the stairs and looked at the headless corpses, her gaze cold and unfeeling. "Follow me," she said as she stepped over the bodies. "We're almost there."
They continued down the hall. At the end of it was a rickety elevator. Jamous grabbed the handle the caged door. It screeched against the concrete floor. They both entered it, and he shut the door again.
"Which floor?"
"The very top."
There was silence as the elevator slowly climbed up, floor by floor. Jamous stared at the mossy wall through the caged door as it slowly passed them by.
"What is she like?" Cyri whispered.
"Hm?"
"Lana. What is she like?"
Jamous smiled sadly. "She's brash and thinks she knows everything. But she's smart and can take care of herself. She's not afraid to speak her mind." He looked Cyri in the eyes. "She's strong."
The elevator came to a choking stop at the top floor. Through the caged door Jamous could see the one last hallway that ended with a large door. This was different than the bass levels. The hall walls were a sleek white, its carpet a deep red. The door itself was a dark oak wood. The hall branched off in two directions at the door. There was the sound of clinking of glasses, music, and loud voices.
"Stripe must be having a feast."
Jamous probed his surroundings. There was a cluster of bodies inside the main hall, about forty-five from what he could tell. Now were those forty five guards altogether? He couldn't say. One thing that did interest Jamous the most was that there seemed to be no activity in the halls as he probed them. "What are the chances that all the guards are inside in the main hall right now?" he asked Cyri.
"More than likely," she replied. "It's almost impossible to find your way inside Stripe's stronghold if you don't know where it is. When he throws his parties, almost all of his underlings attend."
Jamous mulled it over, trying to figure out the best way he could use that to his advantage. He turned back to Cyri and put his hands on her shoulders. "Okay, listen, you're not going to like this, but I need you to let me go into Stripe's throne room alone." She started to protest, but he interrupted her. "I want you to go into every slave quarter or prison or wherever they are and free them. Find Lana. Lead them out of the sewers and up above to Kyrean. I need you to do this, Cyri."
Cyri nodded. "Okay, I will."
"Find whatever way possible to get them out of here. Just get as far from the stronghold as possible."
Cyri began take a right at the hall of the main door. "Thank you, Jamous. For everything." And with that she disappeared into the branching hallways.
Jamous steadied his breathing. He poured himself into the Force, probing and touching ever person and every corner of the throne room behind that big wooden door, so much so that it was as if he was in the room himself. He could feel the "ping" of every individual's body warmth, and suddenly he was pulled out of his Force trance. Lana. She was in there. He could sense her presence among the muck of people feasting in the throne room.
It completely took him by surprise. To be able to feel her presence in a large group of tightly packed people, it was something that he had never experienced before. He must have had a bond to her in some way. Jamous had read about Force bonds while studying at the monastery, but he had never experienced it with any of the monks there. This bond with Lana was the first time that he had ever experienced it, and it took him by surprise. He could almost hear her thoughts; he could feel her emotions at the same time she felt them. The Force was warm and pure when he felt her presence in it.
This strong and emotional bond that Jamous had just touched caused a whirl of feelings to well up inside of him, but the most prominent emotion was anger. He could feel Lana's unadulterated fear. It rolled off of her in waves. He could feel her anxiety, her thoughts. He could feel the innermost desire in her mind and body, in her whole being: please don't touch me. This sudden whisper of Lana's inner thoughts snapped Jamous out of his half-awake state. He walked up to the giant wooden door and pushed it open.
The throne room was large, larger than Jamous had expected it to be. It had heigh ceilings made with tough and shiny durasteel. There were colorful and gaudy rugs all over the floors, and giant tables on both sides of the room. At the very end on a raised platform sat Stripe's "throne." He sat it in it now, and all of his gangsters were sitting around the two tables. They were all eating and drinking, talking loudly in excitement or anger. In the corner of the room was a band of humans and rodians, playing a smooth jazzy tune.
But Jamous didn't see any of this. He only saw Lana. She sat on the floor next to Stripe's throne, her clothes swapped out for a revealing slave outfit. There was a collar around her neck, and connected to the collar was a chain. The chain lead up to Stripe's hand. There was fear etched all over her face, and to see her chained and in such an objectifying outfit filled Jamous with red rage. It took every ounce of his willpower not to charge Stripe right now and annihilate him.
As Jamous walked down the aisle between the two tables, the throne room grew quiet and all eyes were on him. He stopped about six meters in front of Stripe's throne. When Lana saw him, her faced filled with a combination of relieved joy and great fear. Jamous only nodded to her. All was quiet.
"You're the bastard who decided to put his nose in my business last night," Stripe said. He was short and had rat-like features. His skin was pale and his eyes were like black little beads. As soon as he stated this, every armed man in the room had his blaster aimed on Jamous. Stripe continued. "Do you have any idea how much money and manpower you cost me last night?" He stood up from his throne. "Who do you think you are, huh? Who are you to think you can just come into my city and mess with my business?"
Jamous remained cool on the outside, but he was fuming on the inside. "I'm here for Lana. Give her to me, and I will leave."
"You mean this bitch?" Stripe yanked on the chain connected to Lana's collar, and the girl let out a cry as she was jerked closer to Stripe. She spilled on the floor face-first in front of Stripe's feet. "Oh, no, no, this girly is mine." There was a wicked glint in Stripe's eyes. "She looks just like the woman who has been my favorite slave for years, yet younger, more vivacious." He licked his lips, as he bent down and pulled her by her hair. "This one is mine." Lana let out another timid and pitiful cry as her head was jerked back. It was a cry of pain and fear.
A mixture of white hot hatred and red flaming rage filled the very innermost part of Jamous's being, and he dropped his calm facade. "Take your fucking hands off of her," he said quietly and menacingly, "before I gut you like a pig."
If Jamous's threat caused Stripe any concern, he didn't show it. Instead he laughed, a shrill and maniacal cackle. "You think you can just come in here to my stronghold filled with my men and then tell me what to do?"
Jamous pulled both Blackened Night and the sword Delroth had given him and wielded one in each hand, Delroth's sword in his left and Blackened Night in his right. "Last chance, Stripe. Let her go."
Stripe suddenly unlatched the chain around the collar of Lana's neck. "Let him have it, boys!" he shouted and began to pull the girl to a door by his throne.
But Jamous wasn't able to focus on him very long. A deluge of red blaster bolts was unleashed upon him. They missed their mark. By the time the blaster fire had reached its destination, Jamous had leaped high, using the Force to escape danger. The thugs looked up at him as he flew through the air. Some fired haphazardly at him as he fell back down, but each shot was off its mark.
Jamous landed on top of the big dining table on the left side of the throne room. As soon as his feet touched the table's top, the chopping block began. It was as if Blackened Night and Delroth's sword took a life of their own. Screams of pain erupted and bounced off the walls as Jamous cut through Stripe's gangsters. It was a chaotic explosion of pure violence. He could feel the gangsters' blood splattering all over him every time one of his blades sunk into flesh. There was no mercy, no quarter. They would all die by his hand.
The gangsters on the right side of the throne room had not been deterred by the slaughtering of their comrades. They threw barrage after barrage of blaster fire at Jamous, but they never seemed to hit him. Their blaster bolts hit everything else: the walls, the floors, the corpses, even the gangsters that were still alive. And then Jamous turned to them and unleashed death.
He augmented his speed with the Force, and before the remaining gangsters could even process it, he was in the midst of them. The proceeding chaos and carnage was brutal and quick. In no time, Jamous stood amongst the slaughter of over forty of Stripe's men. His wounds were minimal, a few blaster bolts had grazed him on his side and his left arm, but it was only surface level. They were tender burns, but nothing that he could not stand.
Jamous ran up the platform of Stripe's throne and through the door where the kingpin had taken Lana. "Stripe!" he screamed. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, stirring the hate and fury within him into a conglomeration of death and blood lust.
Jamous found himself running in a single hallway, no doors on either side. Before him was a metal door, sealed tight. But this obstacle posed no problem. Fueled by anger and the darkness of Bogan, Jamous ripped the door off of it's hinges with the Force and tossed it aside. He entered what must have been Stripe's quarters. It was garish and gaudy. Trophies of animal heads lined the wall; a heavy incense burned throughout the entire room; expensive and lush rugs covered the floor. There was a heavy wooden bed and desk in the room, sleek and dark. This room truly was the room of the richest gangster in all of Kyrean and probably the continent of Thyr.
Jamous took all of this in without the second thought, for before him was Lana and Stripe. The gangster was behind the girl and had his arm around her neck. In his other hand was a sickly curved blade. "Don't come any closer!" he shouted. "Or else I'll run the hag through."
"I gave you a chance, Stripe. Let the girl go."
"How dare you! No one tells me what to do! No one!" Stripe screamed, as if on the borderline of throwing a temper tantrum. The gangster pushed Lana at Jamous, and if Jamous had not had the Force and was not able to sense the oncoming danger, he most likely would have died.
As Stripe pushed Lana toward Jamous, he pounced with a speed that was almost inhuman, his blade ready to strike Jamous from the right side of Lana. With barely any time to spare, Jamous used the Force to levitate Lana out of the way. He lost concentration of her as he brought his swords up for a parry so she was roughly dropped to the ground. There was a piercing pain as Jamous realized his parry was too late to catch all of Stripe's blade as it dug into the left side of his chest.
When Jamous grunted in pain, Stripe laughed. The blade had not gone deep enough to cause internal damage, but it let out a splattering of blood all over the gangster's curved blade.
Stripe unleashed another volley of strikes with his blade. Again, his incredible speed and agility surprised Jamous. He did his best to block and parry every strike, but some fell through his guard, nicking him and slicing him from shoulders to thighs. They broke away from each other and prepared for another bout.
"Calm yourself," Jamous thought to himself, though the voice inside his head sounded more like Delroth than his own. "You're letting your anger cloud your mind. Focus."
Jamous took a deep breath, and the kingpin came at him again. Stripe's abilities were admirable from an unbiased point of view. The man was quick, his reflexes were fast, and his agility was far above that of any normal man. But when he came to attack once again, Jamous was ready this time. He used both of his swords to block each strike. The more he blocked Stripe's attacks, the more frustrated the gangster became. He began to strike faster and more recklessly. It was then that Jamous found his opening. Stripe came at Jamous with a swipe from the right. Jamous brought his first blade down on Stripe's own, and as their blades connected, he brought down his other sword down on the gangster's wrist.
Stripe let out a scream as Jamous's blade cleaved through his wrist. His blade clanged to the floor along with his hand. Jamous delivered a hard kick to the gangster's chest, causing him to fall onto his back, blood spurting from the stump where his hand used to be. Stripe's cries of pain stopped completely when he saw the tip of Jamous's sword at his neck. He tried to pull himself backwards with his remaining hand.
"Please," he begged. "Please."
Jamous remained silent. He took another step towards the crippled gangster.
"Not like this," sobbed Stripe. "Not like this." He slowly made his way back until he could sit up against the base of his bed.
"I gave you a chance," Jamous said coldly. "It's over now."
Stripe's face turned from one of pity and fear to one of anger in an instant. "I say when it's over!" The man suddenly pulled a small blaster from his right boot and brought it up towards Jamous. It happened so quick: the final clash. As Stripe put his finger on the trigger, Jamous was in the process of raising his swords.
And then blaster fire rang through the chamber . . . and Stripe's head exploded into a large, hazy red mist. His body fell to the floor on its side. Jamous looked to where the blaster shot had come from. There stood Lana, shakily holding a blaster that she had pulled from a drawer in Stipe's desk. She stared at Stripe's corpse with wide eyes, but when she looked at Jamous, she dropped the pistol and ran to him. They embraced in a fierce hug.
Jamous bent down to one knee, his hands on each shoulder of Lana. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. "Did he hurt you?"
Lana wiped away fresh tears that fell from her face. "I'm okay. I was so scared, Jamous."
Jamous hugged her again. "I know, Lana. I know." He stood up and pulled a blanket from Stripe's bed, giving it to Lana so she could wrap it around herself. "Let's get you out of here."
Lana didn't move. "Jamous."
"What is it, Lana?"
"Thank you. I . . . I don't know what I would do without you."
Jamous turned back to her and kneeled one more time. "Lana, you don't have to thank me. I want to thank you. For being there right when I need a friend the most." He opened his arms, and the girl hugged him one more time. Jamous looked at her with a smile. "Come one. There's someone who's dying to meet you."
—
When Jamous and Lana made their way out of Stripe's sanctuary, back to the surface of Kyrean, there stood Cyri, pacing frantically. When she saw Jamous her eyes went immediately to Lana, full of happiness and sadness, belief and disbelief. Jamous looked at Lana. The girl stood there, eyes wide, transfixed on her mother. She looked up to Jamous, stunned.
He nudged her. "Go on."
Cyri and Lana slowly started to walk to each other, but soon after both broke out in a run, meeting in the middle with a fierce embrace. Lana cried in her mother's arms, and the ashen haired woman gently stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head, a few tears escaping her own eyes as well.
"My child," she said shakily. "Oh, my child."
Lana only grabbed onto her mother harder.
Jamous observed all of this from where he stood. The site of Lana and Cyri reuniting after so many years filled him with a tremendous sense of joy, one that he had not felt since his time with Delroth.
"Delroth, you old bastard, I hope you saw this," Jamous thought to himself, and thinking of his old friend brought a smile to his lips.
But still . . . even though there was only joy and happiness for Lana and her mother, Jamous felt something underneath it all, something that filled him with a sense of uneasiness and dread.
"Hey!" Lana's voice shook Jamous from his thoughts. She had her mom's hand in one of her own and reached her other hand out to Jamous. "Well, come on! Let's go to the lake and get more frozen treats! You're buying."
Jamous laughed. He walked over to Lana and took her hand. "You just can't help but tell me what to do, huh, kid?"
Lana's laughed. "I'm not a kid, Jamous! How many times do I have to tell you that?" She let go of her mom's hand and hugged Jamous tightly. He looked down to her only to see a mischievous smile on her face. "Now, you have to buy me two."
—
Jamous stared at the ceiling while he lay in bed. He, Lana, and Cyri had wandered around Kyrean for most of the day before finding an inn to sleep in for the night. All throughout the remaining of the day, that sense of dread Jamous had felt after reuniting mother and daughter had only grown. And now, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Lana and Cyri sleeping in the bed next to his own, he realized where that sense of dread came from: the curse of his immortality.
Jamous had watched Delroth age and die, while he himself stayed the same. To get to know someone, to become their brother, and then to watch them die, while knowing that he would have to go on indefinitely, it was a painful experience. One that he did not want to experience again.
Lana and Cyri needed someone stable and constant. Jamous was a wanderer, someone who always found himself in the thick of bad situations. He was a soul with no home and no family. No matter how hard he tried to justify it, Jamous could not see himself dragging Lana and Cyri through any more than what they had already experienced. It just was not fair to them.
And that's why, while laying in bed, Jamous had decided that he needed to leave. Now. While they slept. If Lana knew he was leaving, she would try to make him stay, and Jamous knew he would, because Lana always got her way when it came to him. She held a soft spot in his heart.
Noiselessly, Jamous got out of bed and collected his things. As he went to leave the room, he stopped by Lana's bedside and looked at her one more time. She was just still so young, only fourteen, to have gone through all the things that she did. He knew it would take her a long time to heal. He remembered the nightmares she would have as they traveled across Tython in order to get to Kyrean. But she was strong. And she could make it on her own. Lana was a fighter.
Jamous made his way out of the room and down the stairs. It wasn't till he was out on the street, in front of the inn, when he felt someone touch his shoulder from behind. He turned. It was a Cyri.
"Are you just going to leave without saying goodbye?" she asked, sadness in her eyes.
"Cyri," Jamous started. "We both know Lana. She would not let me leave if she knew I was trying to."
A small smile formed on Cyri's lips. "Yes, I've seen that already in the short time we've been together. The girl gets what she wants."
Jamous put his hand on the woman's shoulder. "Take care of her, Cyri. And I'm sorry. I know that it will be rough tomorrow when she wakes up and sees I'm gone. But this is for the best. For both of you. I have to move one."
Cyri hugged him. "You will find where you belong, Jamous. And Lana and I will always be here for you if you ever need anything. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done."
Jamous returned the embrace. "Goodbye, Cyri."
And with that, Jamous disappeared into the darkness of the night streets of Kyrean. Once again, alone.
