Star Wars: The Old Republic
Marr
~Chapter Ten~
Once the darkness becomes a part of you, there's no room for anything else.
"Every moment of my life has in one way or another led me here, Vowrawn." I waved away his offering—a premium Stygian Cognac—one of fifty bottles left in the galaxy.
"I must say, you're far more disciplined than I am, Marr. These last five years—you've denied yourself almost every luxury I've offered—a rainbow of beautiful slaves; fine drink; expensive smoke, a feather bed…every nicety a man could hope for. I don't know how you do it. Especially the feather bed."
I chuckled. "You're aware as well as I am, I'm no saint. Your temptations have caused a few momentary lapses in judgement over the years."
"The very proof I needed or I might have come to suspect you're not quite like the rest of us. But to deny yourself a celebratory libation on your twenty-first birthday…I think that's a bit extreme."
"I'll celebrate when my trial is over."
"I will hold you to that, my friend." He examined the bottle, his gaze seemingly fixed on the shimmering amber-rose liquid trapped inside. "I can barely contain myself when I imagine the look on Taxon's face, the moment he learns you're still alive…"
"You never did tell me how he reacted to my demise."
"Oh…" Vowrawn snickered. "He was livid, of course. I still have the scars to prove it. If ever there was a day, I thought I'd been checkmated—that was the one. I was probably a tad more reckless than I ought to have been, but as I've said, no risk, no joy—it's what makes the game worth playing."
"Is everything a game to you, Vowrawn?"
"Of course. Life is nothing but a series of games…finance, power, knowledge, women…there are only two outcomes…you win or you lose."
"I believe that to be an over simplified view…"
"Marr, Marr, Marr, my dear fellow—you over-complicate things. Twenty-one years young and you think like—well, like a fifty-year-old man. I shudder to think what you'll be like in another twenty years. Life is not out to get you…"
"Of course, it is. We're Sith."
Vowrawn laughed. "There are times I can't tell if you're serious or not."
"I have the distinct impression there is far more at stake, then you've led me to believe. What hold does Taxon have over you?"
"Your questions are nearly as pointed as that armour you wear. I'm still at a loss as to why you'd deny yourself the comfort of Corellian silk, in favour of that…monstrosity you commissioned."
"The armour serves its purpose."
"You remind me of that Sithspawn beast in the ritual chamber just after we'd met. Do you remember?"
"Of course, I remember." I folded my arms and stared down at him, amused that he couldn't read my face—an advantage I decided was worth keeping. "What I fail to understand, is why you stayed all these years. Taxon didn't honour his end of the wager and yet you remained in his service."
"I suppose you wouldn't believe that I stayed solely for your benefit…"
"Vowrawn…" My voice was a warning growl and my hands curled into fists by my sides.
"I see you're not going to let this go," Vowrawn crossed his arms and the jovial twinkle in his eyes grew canny. "Very well…I suppose I owe you that much. There is something far more powerful than the Force."
"And what would that be?"
"The fact that you have to ask tells me you've been remiss in your observations of me."
"Quit stalling!"
"This is a lesson you would be wise to learn, Marr. Commerce is the true power in the galaxy and money is the language it speaks. The Hutts understand it…the Black Sun understands it, the Exchange, information brokers, mercenaries, smugglers, bounty hunters, the entire underworld—they all understand it. And when one becomes…how shall I phrase this…fluent in the language, one is capable of influencing events across the galaxy—whether for profit or amusement it matters not."
"You're a criminal…Taxon knows this."
"The word criminal doesn't quite capture the scope or magnitude of what it is I do, Marr—I dare say it's something of an understatement."
"That would explain your access to all the women and contraband…"
"You sound almost shocked, Marr. I hadn't taken you for such a puritan. The brothels are only a tiny fraction of my holdings…"
"How is it you're not in prison?"
"Haven't you been listening? Money will buy anything. Not to mention I own controlling interest in several key industries—the CEC, Czerka, Balmorran Arms, Koensayr to name a few…and then there are the shipyards and the mines…forty-three of them at last count. My resources are nearly inexhaustible—and once the war resumes, my investments will yield obscene returns."
"You have all that and can't deal with Taxon yourself?"
"Where's the sport in that? It's not as if I'm suffering here, and there are things I stand to gain…things that would legitimize my station among the Sith and in the Empire."
"You've wasted years of your life pinning your hopes on me…"
"I enjoy good sport, Marr. Can you imagine the look on Taxon's face when you defeat him? A boy he has struggled to thwart since birth?"
"You want Taxon's seat on the Dark Council…"
"Who in their right mind would turn down a seat on the Dark Council? But truthfully Marr…it's not Taxon's seat I desire. While Defense of the Empire would be of vital concern to me, it wouldn't be my focus. My choice of seat would be a start…but it would be a mere stepping stone."
"Surely you don't intend to supplant the Emperor…"
Vowrawn waved me off. "The pinnacle of power, while lofty, is not the most secure position. There's always some pesky individual looking to push you off—but it is an alluring dream."
"You contradict yourself with this talk of stability and security—what of your love of gaming?"
"Oh, I'd still be playing, but of course, the stakes would be higher…and no game is so well played as from a comfortable chair with a good view of the room. Don't be so scandalized Marr…would you not claim the throne if it were within your reach?"
"No…I've no need of it."
"Think of all you could achieve…"
"I will not waste my time coveting a station beyond my reach or intention."
"You sell yourself short, Marr."
"No. I do not. A wise man practices restraint. Only a fool chases after possibilities and ignores the present."
"But as Emperor—"
"Enough. You're nearly as calculating as that wretched demon I call master. I sense there is still much you're withholding, but I don't have time for this. My trial awaits."
"Far be it for me to keep you. Best of luck, Marr. The cognac and I will be awaiting your triumphant return."
A fog of frigid vapour met me as I descended the steps leading into Hord's temple. The sconces blazed with a pale blue fire and the same blue flames licked up from the seals carved into the floor, parting just enough to allow me passage into the depths of the temple.
Frost formed over the altar and the skull-lined walls like a white mould. Tulak Hord stood in the corner of the chamber. The same blue fire I'd seen on my way in, blazed through the eye sockets of his helmet.
"Progeny of Tacitus…you would be wise to be more selective when choosing friends."
"I have no friends here," I whispered.
"Sith have no friends anywhere. Everyone conceals a knife…the only difference is the motivation that will move them to strike. Betrayal is as pervasive as air."
"Spare me these fledgling platitudes. I understood long ago that we are damned never to know the bond of friendship or love—but loyalty can be earned and must be rewarded."
"You think so?" Tulak Hord laughed.
"I know—without a doubt. Were it not for the loyalty my parents swore to Lord Tacitus, I would not be standing here now. They did not betray him, they were loyal unto the end."
"Ares, loyalty is an illusion. Wives betray, husbands betray, children betray. Slaves, masters, and apprentices betray. Friends betray. You will come to see this…in time."
"I will prove you wrong."
"Hah! If the day comes when you can make such a boast—that there is one who never betrayed you, I will grant you a boon."
"You expect me to believe you had no alliances…"
"I had two to speak of…perhaps one day I will tell you the story of my general and my dashade—both were effective, but neither was to be trusted."
My gaze wandered past my Master and settled on a blue flame column jutting from the floor with tree-like roots. Suspended over the column was a lightsaber and perhaps the most magnificent weapon I had ever seen.
The ebony hilt was smooth and dark, and I sensed the grip was enchanted with blood memory—the weapon would recognize our bloodline through the Force. A trio of sharp metal talons protruded from the blade emitter and I found myself tempted by the weapon more surely than any of Vowrawn's seductive offerings.
Hord turned toward the weapon. "You want this…"
"Yours, I trust?"
"An extension of myself…my truest ally in life and death." The lightsaber vanished from its resting place and reappeared in Hord's ghostly hand. Blazing red plasma kindled in his fist and the weapon growled to life. "Your trial—take my lightsaber…if you can."
"It shall be mine."
"Draw your weapon, Ares. This is our playground…let us make use of it," Hord commanded.
The weapon I'd constructed sprang into my palm at the speed of thought and came alive.
The chamber walls faded at my master's whim, giving way to plumes of ebon smoke. Hord vanished. I strode forward and emerged onto a battlefield. The stench of burning flesh and ruptured explosive casings assaulted my senses. Smoke breached my mask, the insidious tendrils stinging my eyes.
I did not recognize the world before me, or even the timespan. It could have been past or future, or some distant now few were aware of. All I needed to understand was that a war raged and we were the balance that would dictate the winner. The reasons for their fight did not matter, nor did their politics. All that mattered was the power of their fading lives and my need to claim the weapon in my opponent's hand.
Hord appeared before me and bowed. I mirrored his respect and then our blades clashed with fury and preternatural zeal. We wove through the embattled troops like shadows, advancing and ebbing like a tide. Those that interfered or impeded our dance were cut down, swiftly and without mercy. I came to understand that they did not see us—we warred on the cusp of reality and the Force. We moved through them like reapers—shadows caught in the corner of their eyes before they fell.
The power of the dying blazed all around me but I felt their resistance. Back and forth we clashed, time irrelevant to our waltz. At the top of what I thought was a hill, I paused to take stock, to steal a breath, and it was at this moment, I realized it was no mere hill, but a mound of bodies we had created in our ferocity. I stood at the center of it all, and from my vantage point, I saw that there was not only one mound but many—between us we had obliterated a world.
The dying reached every direction and horizon I faced. Their last breaths, their pleas, and their prayers called to me, the influx of voices dizzying. Something within me flickered and grew dimmer, and I recognized the sensation of my disintegrating humanity.
My heart quickened and I felt sick, but I could not let him win—to do so would mean my end. Heartbeats, so many and so varied shook the field like a ground quake. I sensed the light in their minds beckoning them away from this coil and I understood what I had to do. The flutter grew to a rivulet and the rivulet became a creek. Humanity poured out of me and for the briefest moment I was tempted to chase it and run screaming from the abomination I was becoming.
I fought the temptation to run. I had to win. I had to turn them from the light. My salvation, my victory depended on it. This was what I had to do to become Sith, like my father before me. I drew in their power and I became the darkness.
With the promise that their last desires would be fulfilled, they abandoned the light, traversing the field as an infernal fog made of men, crawling on their bellies toward me. I drew the last remnants of their lives into me and gasped at the heady rush of power that followed. I laughed and I felt nauseated in the same moment. The victory would cost me, but I would not be deterred. I was beyond salvation.
Hord slashed at me and I narrowly escaped his advance. "You're wavering. Your regret will cost you. Do not mourn what you were, embrace what you will become." Our sabers crossed and gnashed. "Enslave them. Be quick about it. Feel them become a part of you, Ares."
I marvelled at the gossamer-thin cloak of swirling blackened skulls clinging to me. Their lives registered as mere flickers before joining the greater tapestry of power eddying around me.
The dance began again, blades slashing and snapping like starving tukata, and the hunger I'd felt in the desert kindled in me and I drove myself against Hord with all that I was.
He responded in kind and the tide turned. Slash after slash, I felt my energy dissipate. I'd exhausted all that I'd taken and was forced to rely on what little of my own strength I had left.
I tumbled down an incline and my weapon disappeared into the bodies. I lay prone on the field, the smell of blood thick around me. I rolled over and a black shadow descended, hurtling faster and closer until I was certain it would strike me. The saber I coveted snarled above me, hungry for my life, all too willing to impale me. I had nothing left.
I thrust my hand upwards to shield myself from the incoming blow. Though I feared it would make no difference, I summoned my lightning. It coiled my arm like a serpent and stayed the blow. Hord vanished again.
The saber I'd lost responded to my call and clashed against my palm. I sliced at the air like a madman.
The wind howled and the skies opened. Flood rains filled the spaces between the mounds to shift the dead. My footing became unstable and my balance precarious. I slashed, again and again, I knew he was close to me, but I could not rely on my sight alone. The darkness rushed around me and filled the battlefield with night. Confusion seized my senses and I lost my bearings. I felt light.
Had I lost the trial? I couldn't be dead. The wild beat under my ribs reminded me I lived—this day marked the twenty-first anniversary of my birth. I clung to the instinct that drove me as a newborn. I had to survive. I thought of my parents—those who'd raised me and those whose blood roiled in my veins. "Help me…" I pleaded. A sensation of renewed strength flared inside me and I recognized the faith my adoptive parents had in me.
Hord's laughter rang out. "You're weak—relying on them…as if they'll come to you. What did I tell you about loyalty and blood! Fool!"
"No…it is you that is the fool!" I threw my hands out, the blue lightning I somehow recognized as my father's power, manifested in a great jagged ball of light, enough to blind the wraith and reveal his position. He raised his saber to block the incoming deluge of electricity and I hurled my saber toward him.
Hord's lightsaber fell to the ground, still locked within his severed hand. I reached out with the Force as the lightning threw back his body and I snatched my prize.
"It's over!" I ignited the spoils of my victory and slashed the air before me. The scarlet blade growled deep—its timbre having deepened to reflect my mastery over it.
The dim gossamer outline of my blood family appeared before me. My father extended his hand to me and I accepted.
"No father could ever be more proud than I am at his moment.…"
"Thank you…Father…Mother. I am his equal now and I release you both from this darkness."
"There is only the Force," my Mother murmured before they vanished hand in hand.
I strode toward my master and offered my hand to help him up, but he refused it. He rose and the shadows carried his severed arm to him and he became whole again.
"Your training is complete, Ares…you are—a Lord of Hate and Master over the Gathering Darkness."
"Thank you, Master."
"But you are not my equal. You do not offer your arm to your opponent when they lay vulnerable to you…you strike them down."
"It's not as if I could kill that which is already dead. Know this…I am at the very least your equal…if not your better."
"Does your arrogance know no bounds, Ares?"
I laughed. "You taught me…well. I take my leave of you…brother."
The dark fog dissipated and I found myself standing alone in the temple. I marvelled at the weapon I had claimed and strode up the steps leading outside to the desert, two at a time, but I sensed I was far from alone.
Twelve legions of Imperial troopers stood before me, weapons locked, and a legion of red armored guards held Vowrawn and Silthar in stun cuffs.
"Congratulations my friend…I see you survived your trial…" Vowrawn called out jovially.
"What's the meaning of this?"
"Stop right there. By Order of the Dark Council and Darth Taxon…Ares Marr, you are under arrest."
((to be continued…))
