Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

This chapter marks the end of part one, part two is following up. The story has four parts.

Now the three Sith have a living, breathing Jedi to amuse themselves with. What will they do with her? :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XX – Blood for Blood

Tammutyen walked ahead of Tarralyanna with a swagger, carrying a bundle over his enormous shoulder without the use of the Force. Tarralyanna did not need to ask what this was, nor did she want to see it. He had eaten a lot, judging by the little round blotches of colour on his usually deadly pale cheeks. And what was left of the Jedi's body was obviously not much, nor was it especially pleasant to the eye. The unconscious Jedi was becoming heavier and heavier and Lady Tarralyanna thought for a moment about asking Tammutyen to help her, but she decided against it. This was her prize, she won it, and she would carry it. And the prize was terribly heavy, she concluded with an inward laugh.

Their Master led them toward a hole dug out beside the tomb, and something was already lying beside the hole. This something – a body, beyond doubt – had been wrapped in a brown Jedi cloak, a handful of strange braids peeking under it. Tarralyanna laid down the unconscious Jedi on the ground before her, whereas Tammutyen simply threw his bundle on the ground unceremoniously and fixed his gaze upon the brown bundle which had already been there when they arrived.

"I am certain he was a master," said the Dark Lord, glancing over the bundle with a glint in his dark eyes. "But one that was rather old and weak. He was no match for me; he died very quickly."

He waved a careless hand and looked away from it, as though it did not deserve to be looked at. He fixed his glance upon Tammutyen's bundle, his cruel, thin lips stretching into a smile.

"Something left of him, my very hungry apprentice?" he asked softly. Tammutyen grinned, pleased that he was not being scolded, and bowed to his Master, nodding.

"I brought all of the remains I could find, my Master," he said.

"Very well," said the Dark Lord, pointing at the hole. "Toss them in."

Tarralyanna was looking down uncertainly at the unconscious Jedi. Why did her Master stop her when she was about to kill her? Was this not what he wanted?

"Yes, but I have changed my mind," he said, hearing her thoughts, not turning to her as he watched Tammutyen pick up the body of the Jedi master he killed and toss it into the hole as well, where it landed with a dull thump. "She can be useful to us. She will be considered as dead, along with her companions; but we shall take her with us. Have you felt that she attracts the Dark side?"

"Yes, Master," replied Tarralyanna, suddenly conscious how heavy her legs felt and that her wound, wrapped with a piece of her robe, was slowly healing – she could feel all of the energy in her body regrouping to help speed up the healing process. "But why?"

"That we shall research," said the Dark Lord with a soft smile directed at her. "You have become very powerful, my apprentice. And you have fought very well. I have watched your duel thorough the Force."

"Thank you, my Master," she whispered. "Your praise means a lot to me."

"Of course, the Jedi Tammutyen was fighting was so scared of him that he could barely do anything," the Dark Lord went on, laughing, with Tammutyen straightening up proudly and baring his sharp teeth, showing bits of blood on them – Tarralyanna looked away, puffing with annoyance. "The whole of your appearance and eagerness for murder scared the life out of him, my apprentice. But you, too, got your chance to fight a Jedi for the first time, although it was not as long and as challenging as you might have desired it to be."

"It was over before it started, my Master," said Tammutyen in a tone of regret.

"Nevertheless, it was good experience," said the Dark Lord, nodding. "Of course, I do not need to remark on your skill."

Tammutyen was glowing. He flexed his pectoral muscles to Tarralyanna when his Master turned away to cast a glance down the hole. Tarralyanna rolled her eyes, but smiled at him. She was certain that she was going to hear every move he made in his duel on their way home, because Tammutyen remembered all of it and battle tactics was his passion. He was obsessed with analysing all famous battles and duels, and he kept a record of them.

"Very well," said the Dark Lord, straightening up with an air of finality. "The two who paid with their lives for the invasion of the land of Gnath, the home of the Dark side, we shall bury here, as sacrifice unto my Master, for his first apprentice who got killed by the Jedi. May the souls of these two Jedi serve his soul in the Force forever. They have died by the hand of the Sith, and we shall make a tombstone to signify this. Blood for blood; life for life; and killing… because we have no problems with it."

Tammutyen happily chuckled to this joke. But Tarralyanna kept thinking back about this as she and Tammutyen were carrying a large stone their Master picked behind the tomb to be the tombstone they would place over the hole. There was another apprentice to the Dark Lord of the Second Age? Who was it? And where did he get killed?

"That is a very long story, Tarralyanna," said her Master, watching them as they scrubbed the surface of the stone in the kitchen, preparing it for the inscription of the glyphs. "But I shall let you work and retell it. My Master at first did not desire to take up an apprentice; this struck him as a dull and unnecessary task. But the Dark side wanted him to have an heir – and it told him so in a vision. And so he set off to find one, just like I have set off to find you. And he did, eventually. He was a young Caelian half-blood, escaped from a conservatory in Lateen, and he was roaming the world, searching for something that might amuse him. He was already a talented warrior and he was learning as he travelled. He was using his talents to fight for money and thus earn himself a bit of something that he would spend on drink and women."

Tammutyen snorted with revolt and continued scrubbing, whereas Tarralyanna was all ears.

"It took some persuasion on the Dark Lord's part, but he managed to persuade him to come away with him and to accept his teachings. The ceremony of the Birth was performed, and the young apprentice was learning very fast. He was hungry for knowledge, but he was also very wayward. The Dark Lord's greatest trouble with him was not to teach him this or that, for he found that he mastered everything he taught him. it was keeping him where he was and obeying him, keeping to the ways of the Sith. He punished him almost on a daily basis. One day, his apprentice escaped to the nearby town. The Dark Lord was having work of his own and came out of his meditation room only to find his apprentice was gone. Enraged, he set off to find him, keeping to the forests and travelling by night. His apprentice got drunk, and then challenged two people – who happened to be Jedi, unfortunately – for a game of darts. He used the Dark side to help him and the two got very suspicious about him. They questioned him, as they have felt something strange about him, something that would correspond to the Force, but not to the Force as they knew it. Naturally, all Jedi had orders to research any appearance of a Dark side user."

He paused, shaking his head and glancing around the room, as though he did not just duel a Jedi master and kill him. He did not appear to be weary at all, but was his usual serious, solemn self, his face devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

"Needless to say that the young apprentice got provoked, and the Dark side simply gushed out of him. Even for a boy of his age, he was very powerful, and the Dark side was strong with him. They killed him on the spot, as he was drunk and unable to fight. My Master searched for his body, but could not find it. Thus he died without an apprentice, in the Great War, but his will was to find one, and he lingered in Gnath until I came along. He was always harbouring great hopes in his first apprentice – but his weakness was his downfall."

"I hope you understand how important the relationship between a Sith master and an apprentice really is," he went on, with an air of a lecturer. "Hundreds of years after this happened, and as disappointed and angry my Master had always been with his apprentice, he honoured him for what he was, his student, and he still does. I hope you shall never forget that. Our bond runs deeper than flesh and blood. You have seen the power of my teaching in your duels. You have prevailed so easily over the Jedi, as though they were nothing more than toys."

He reached down for his pipe and ignited it thoughtfully, the two pondering this as he was dictated what they should inscribe upon the stone.

"In the lasting memory of Ten'Muh'Raa, the first apprentice of the Great Dark Lord Kaa'Th'Spaa, we sacrifice the blood of the enemy to avenge his death," it read.

The Jedi awoke some time after their dinner, or feast, rather, for their Master thought they should properly celebrate this victory. He fished out a number of things from the sea, and sat humming to himself and cooking in the kitchen for quite some time. A handful of assorted seaweed and a mountain of raw fish, sea serpents and eels later, they were listening to his stories, Tammutyen half-lying, pipe in his hand, looking well-fed and content. Tarralyanna was sitting cross-legged beside him, her hands in her lap, reaching out with the Dark side toward her shoulder every now and then to heal it. The story-telling got interrupted by movement in the corner, where Tarralyanna had left the Jedi.

As soon as she did, her Master had attended to her wounds and then left her there, to wake up on her own. He cast an amused glance at Lady Tarralyanna after he was done with the preliminary healing of the wound on her belly, as though praising her for her good work with the Saragon. Now she stirred and opened her eyes. The Dark Lord stopped talking and the three of them fixed their glances at her.

She looked around herself, everything flooding back to her, and she looked frightened as she looked confused. Looking aside, for an order or instruction of what to do, how to act, Tarralyanna noticed that her Master had hoisted up his hood, concealing his face. He said nothing.

"You!" whispered Larynthe, staring at Tarralyanna, who raised any eyebrow haughtily. "You brought me here! Where am I?"

Tarralyanna looked toward her Master, who whispered out a sentence in Sith to her, while the Jedi was glancing from one to the other. She was bound with something black and exceptionally firm, she found. She tried summoning the Force, but it felt as though she was missing that ability, as though someone had plucked out the bit of brain that was Force-sensitive. This scared her. She had grown up with the Force, and not to feel it, well, it felt as though she was blind and deaf and helpless, all in one, and it was a terrible feeling indeed.

"What happened to Waak?" whispered Larynthe, staring at Tarralyanna, for she, her opponent, was the only one in the room she knew and spoke to. There was almost a pleading look on her face as she stared at the Sith who defeated her. Tarralyanna straightened up a little.

"He is dead," she said.

Larynthe pulled at her chains for a few moments, but then she slumped back on the floor. The desire to somehow avenge his death was gone from her, and she sat listless on the floor, her head bowed. She did not care what would happen to her, but she could not imagine why they have spared her life.

The Dark Lord spoke to Tarralyanna with a few quick, hissing words, after what she nodded, and got to her feet. Larynthe looked up as she placed something beside her. It was an earthen ewer, full of water. Larynthe stared at the person who spared her life and glanced over her beautiful features, which were now frozen in an expression of complete dispassionateness. The Sith was now wearing a black shirt and matching pants, her hair let loose and falling down her back; her sapphire eyes were as cold as ice as she looked down upon her. She pointed wordlessly at the ewer and distanced herself away. Larynthe stared at her for a few moments, after what she reluctantly reached out for the ewer – the chains were just about long enough to allow her to reach out for it and drink – and took a few shaky gulps.

She put it down and glanced around herself. She was sitting in the strangest place she could imagine. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, everything was red and seemed to be made of the same soil which could be found in the whole land of Gnath. The room she was sitting in looked more like a cavern than a room; there was absolutely no furniture, no nothing, except for the simple earthen plates from which the three Sith obviously ate and who now sat in silent conversation in that hissing language she could not understand. They no longer paid any attention to her. She glanced over herself, noting with surprise that the wound on her belly was healed and she wondered how long had she been unconscious, for such a wound would take weeks to heal, if at all. It was almost fatal, she was certain, and she remembered the horrible feeling of life seeping away from her as the blades of that deadly weapon tore through her flesh.

She bowed her head and gave in to troubled thoughts. They have killed Waak, but they have spared her. Why? What was it that they wanted with her? To torture her for amusement? She did not rule out that possibility; according to the legends, the Sith lived for the thrill of killing, and torture just might be a just overture to it. She did not care, at length, listening to their hissing, and wondering what sort of a language it was. They spoke to each other fluently, and laughed as they drank. But it seemed to Larynthe that the hooded person was a master, if there was such a thing with the Sith. He was clearly being treated with respect by the two Sith, who sat close to each other, but a little away from him. The strong male she was certain killed Waak was smoking a long pipe, filling Larynthe's lungs with unbearably thick smoke. She coughed.

"Tammutyen knows the laws of battle well," said the Dark Lord, smirking, and glancing toward his student who was fingering an object through a piece of cloth. "One wins, one claims the opponent's life. But it goes further than that. One wins, and one can do whatever he desires with the opponent. Such were the beliefs of the ancient Sith. And if the one who got defeated has any honour at all, he would not defend himself, nor would he be afraid of his fate. But after one does what he desires with the opponent's body –" He looked pointedly at Tammutyen, who smiled contently. "—he can take a prize, to remind him of his triumph. Tammutyen, of course, kept the Jedi's Jalá sword, but also – well, out with it, my apprentice."

Tammutyen looked a little embarrassed, but unsurprised at the fact his Master knew what he was hiding. He slowly pulled out a lock of hair, and lifted it in the air. As he did so, there was a stifled choking sound coming from the direction of the Jedi, who apparently recognised it. The two turned around to look at her and burst into laughter that rang in her ears.

"Yes, I daresay Lord Tammutyen shall be starting a fine collection," laughed the Dark Lord, looking at it with a glint in his eye. "Tarralyanna also got herself a trophy. I am aware of the fact that I deprived you of your reward by stopping you before you could kill your opponent, my apprentice, but there shall be more Jedi for you, never fear."

Tarralyanna wondered what he wanted to say with this while he was busy with his pipe. He puffed out a great cloud of smoke from under his hood, and then looked at them in turn, the corners of his lips curling into a smile.

"Now that we have completed our task in Gnath, we shall be taking leave," he said unexpectedly.

Tammutyen straightened up so fast he almost dropped his own pipe and he winced. His muscles were aching, for despite of the fact that Waak did not really pose a challenge for his battle skills, still he was fighting with all that he had, and to fight at such a level makes even a hand wave difficult. Thus he was now suffering from an unpleasantly persistent muscle ache. He grimaced.

"Now, do not worry about the Jedi," said the Dark Lord, pointing at Larynthe with his pipe, who stared at the ringed hand pointing toward her, wondering what they were talking about. "She is going nowhere. The ore on her limbs is one of the greatest discoveries of my Master's – it makes one absolutely incapable of sensing any side of the Force, and therefore unable to summon it. I should know, for he used it many times on me."

He gave an odd chuckle and fixed his gaze on the Jedi.

"Yes, she shall prove to be very interesting," he said thoughtfully. "I am very curious as to find out why the Dark side is attracted to her. Very curious indeed."

oooooooooooooooooo

The following morning, there was an odd procession coming out of the tomb. Larynthe had been force-fed by Tammutyen, who was pushing raw fish into her mouth until he thought she ate enough. Of course, he was measuring the size of her meal according to Tarralyanna's standards, and therefore, Larynthe was left hungry. She was at first very reluctant to eat, of course, believing that by succeeding in declining food long enough she might die; but then the monumental Sith simply reached out for her jaw, opened it with his fingers without any use of the Force, almost breaking it, and began pushing fish into her mouth. She had to swallow, or choke on it. After he was done with feeding her, having enjoyed this task, he delightedly caught an ewer with water and began to pour water into her mouth as well. Gulping quickly, Larynthe was coughing and fighting for breath while he was busy with putting the plate and ewer away, after what he turned to her, grimaced evilly, and then distanced himself away, his black cloak swirling about him.

The Dark Lord walked ahead of them, his hood over his head; then came Larynthe, whose legs were now unbound so that she could walk, but the shackles on her wrists still made it quite impossible for her to use the Force, in any way, because she could not sense it at all, let along use it. She had to wonder at this and at first she did not believe that it had anything to do with her bonds. But then it occurred to her that she had never seen metal of this colour and began thinking about it. It was black and it was not shiny, as metal normally was. It seemed to absorb light, too. After her came Tarralyanna and Tammutyen, keeping an eye on her and whispering to each other, going through their duels. As expected, Tarralyanna got to hear Tammutyen's analysis of his own duel, and the two of them discussed this topic until it was exhausted. They had plenty of time to do this, while they followed their Master through the volcanic land, climbing red hills and sliding down the slopes, laughing at Larynthe who fell a number of times.

Larynthe was exhausted, despite of the fact she had eaten and drank. She crumbled down after seven hours of such up-and-down walking and Tarralyanna lifted her back to her feet with the Force, pushing her onward. So she stumbled for another hour, after what she fell again. The Dark Lord paused and turned, as Tarralyanna cursed in Sith.

"Are all Jedi that weak?" she asked, staring at Larynthe angrily.

"Her weakness is a product of many things," said her Master, coming toward her. "But let us rest, then. Tammutyen, you shall feed her. You seem to be very good at it."

"With pleasure, my Master," said Tammutyen, bowing and seizing a handful of fish from his bag, striding off toward the fallen Jedi who lay on the russet soil, where she first fell. There was a short struggle on her part, who weakly tried to push the food away, flinching in fear when she opened her eyes and spotted the Sith grinning evilly at her. But as he lifted her to a sitting position with a careless wave of his hand and began pushing fish into her mouth, she began to gulp like a helpless child. Tarralyanna was watching and chuckling happily, whereas the Dark Lord nodded to himself, looking away and pulling out his own meal. Larynthe keeled over on her back as soon as Tammutyen left her in peace, having watered her, too, and thus remained lying on the ground, with no one paying attention to her any more. With the Sith using the Dark side the whole time, she felt drained, empty, tossed into the pit of despair and darkest lethargy. The chill vibrating around her as Tammutyen used the Dark side to lift her still filled her as she tried to breathe evenly, lying on her side.

"Master, may I ask something that has been puzzling me for a very long time?" asked Tarralyanna tentatively, looking away from the unmovable figure of the Jedi. Her Master fixed his glance upon her and nodded silently, chewing.

"How can the Jedi fight without the use of Rage?" she asked the very question that spun in her mind ever since she fought with Larynthe. "Do they not get angry? If they are fighting and get hit, if they feel pain – they have to get angry. Do they not? I cannot understand it."

She was staring at him pleadingly, for mysteries of such depth did not really agree with her. Tarralyanna was used to knowing things, to understanding things, even though she despised them. But this simply baffled her, and she did not like the feeling.

"Of course they feel anger," the Dark Lord said with a graceful wave of his hand, spitting out bones. "But they do not use it as we do, they push it away as a negative emotion, and flee from it."

"But why?" asked Tarralyanna, now even more confused.

"They are afraid of it, my apprentice," said the Dark Lord calmly. "And as I warned you so many times before, fear is poison. Because of it, they are blind. They are running away from themselves, and there can be no advancement if one keeps running before something, no power. However, the light side of the Force does not require fearlessness to make it effective, nor does it need fantastic control of one's emotions and control of anger."

"Why would one be afraid of anger, my Master?" asked Tammutyen in turn, staring at him with his eyes wide in surprise.

"Because," said the Dark Lord, wagging his finger at him, "they are afraid of what they might become. Think, my apprentice. Remember – what happens if you allow your anger to take control over you?"

"It turns back upon me and the Dark side refuses to obey me," said Tammutyen promptly. He experienced this too many times not to know exactly what happens, from step one to step four.

"Exactly," said the Dark Lord. "And who would not be afraid of something that keeps turning back upon him? Something that is so powerful and so horrible in the whole of its strength and size, that keeps turning back upon one – solely because of the lack of control, but to fear something and attempt to control it means running in circles, do you not agree? – has to be avoided."

"But then how do they control the light side of the Force?" asked Tarralyanna. "What do they use, if they do not use Rage? Will, perhaps?"

"Yes, will," said the Dark Lord, nodding at her. "Will, among other things. However, you shall find that such a will, that is undermined by fear, which is lurking and waiting to jump atop of them when their control is lame, cannot ever become a strong will such as one that the Dark side demands of its servants. Wherever there is fear, there is weakness. And weakness is the path to destruction. Destruction, by the Dark side, yes – this part of their doctrine is quite true. But the Dark side, as you know it, is being controlled by you, rather than it is controlling you. This is a crucial, vital difference. You are not the haunted ones, the weak ones, the prosecuted ones, the slaves; you are servants, but proud servants, and the Dark side obeys you. Because you have risen above the plain, chaotic minds of mortals, and because your commands to it are clear. This is why you can control it. And this is why the Jedi are afraid of the Dark side. They cannot understand it, and therefore they fear it. They see only one side of it, the destructive side; perhaps there were a few poor Jedi who began to understand the scope of power of the Dark side, what it could do, who realised its potential. But to work with it, for someone who does not have a natural talent for it, if atop of it one is self-taught, means failure and death from the start."

The three of them looked in Larynthe's direction, who was still lying motionless. Tarralyanna lifted her eyebrows, thinking about this. One cannot blame anyone for ignorance, she thought – this rule was not valid for her and Tammutyen, of course, for they never had this luxury. And that poor Jedi was ignorant. She almost felt sorry for her.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Larynthe sat leaning against a rock in the evening, her eyes following the two Sith who were going about their business, whereas their master, or who appeared to be their master, had disappeared behind the sharp bits of rock clustered at the foot of the volcanic hill. They were undressed, wearing only their trousers and boots, their belts with their weapons lying beside them She watched the male speak to the female Sith, his knees drawn up to his chest, smiling at her and gesticulating as he spoke. The female sat with her legs folded under and gave away the impression of great flexibility, stretching every now and then, drawing up her legs to her head, nodding at him and cutting in with an occasional comment. They were not looking at her at all.

She would never have imagined that there were three Sith, and not just one, even if someone told her that a month ago – but they were there, right in front of her. That muscle-bound Sith was the murderer of her dear Waak, and the memory of him still allured tears to her eyes. Silent tears began to flow down her cheeks as she watched them, Waak's face smiling hovering in front of her. She wished she could converse with his spirit, as master Bakku could. The female Sith accidentally looked in her direction, and pointed a finger at her. The male looked at her, too, and raised his eyebrows. They seemed to be talking about her and Larynthe stared back. He asked the female something, who stared at Larynthe with an expression which could almost be called as amazement and shook her head. Larynthe had no idea what they were talking about.

"Ah, let us play a little guessing game," said Tarralyanna, staring at the Jedi. "No use of the Force, all right? Why is she crying? Do you reckon she is in pain?"

Larynthe sniffed and wiped off her face with her sleeve, bowing her head once again.

"Do we care?" asked Tammutyen in an even voice.

"No, of course not," said Tarralyanna seriously. "But it makes me wonder how she could be in pain if Master healed all of her wounds. Perhaps she is hungry?"

"Humans do not cry when they are hungry," said Tammutyen, giving an awkward laugh.

"I read that younglings, babies that is, do," said Tarralyanna, looking at him. Tammutyen was thoughtful for a moment, as he was unable to dispute his sister's knowledge, and then shrugged with his wide shoulders.

"Perhaps she needs to go to the toilet again," he said slowly. Tarralyanna looked impressed.

"Very good," she said, smacking him on the back with approval. "I have not thought of that! But then why does she not simply do it?"

"Perhaps she is embarrassed," Tammutyen continued his good line of thinking, encouraged. Tarralyanna was about to retort to him, believing he was going in the right direction, at what their Master reappeared behind them.

"Or perhaps," he said, looking from one to the other, "she is mourning her friend's death."

This took the both of them by surprise and for a moment they simply stared at him, speechless. Then Tarralyanna let out an odd sound, something between a snort and an exclamation, and shook her head.

"But why, my Master?" she asked.

"Because she misses him," he said, coming toward them and sitting down on a bit of rock, propping himself against his elbows with the water flask in his right hand. "She misses him."

"But that is selfish," said Tarralyanna in surprise. "Why would she regret him not being here? He is with the Force, is he not? Delivered of all pain, out of his body. Do the Jedi not pride themselves with selflessness?"

"Yes, we know he is with the Force," said the Dark Lord, "But she cannot help herself. She simply misses him and wishes he was here, to support her and to comfort her."

"How… strange," said Tammutyen, glancing back toward the Jedi, who was once again looking at them.

"Not to mention contradictory," mumbled Tarralyanna, "She loves him, and yet she wishes him ill by desiring he was here. I shall never understand that."

"The minds of common people are chaotic, terrible places to dwell in," said her Master with a laugh, leaning aback. "But here you have a specimen to study, my apprentice. I am beginning to see this will prove to be very useful to you."

"Thank you, my Master," she said, nodding gravely at him. "You are quite right, of course."

He nodded back and distanced himself away, to lie down a little away from them. In the gathering darkness, Larynthe could see the two young Sith speak for a while, after what they rolled on their backs and closed their eyes. She must have fallen asleep from exhaustion in the sitting position, and opened her eyes the following morning to see the broad-shouldered Sith standing before her, booting her and brandishing a handful of fish. She bound up, staring at him. His black eyes frightened her, and his white, deadly white skin looked as though it belonged to a dead person. There was an air of inhumanity about him that rendered his use of the Dark side quite superfluous in order to make her feel chill sweeping over her.

"Look, Jedi," he said in Albinian, which was harsh and hissing, just like the language they used all the time. "I can feed you again. Or you can do it yourself. So make a choice."

She stared at him, at loss for words, her glance sweeping his naked, tattooed torso. He shrugged and bent forward, meaning to grab her and force her to eat.

"I will eat!" she shrieked in a broken voice.

He withdrew, furrowed his brow and dropped the fish into her lap, placing a water flask beside her, and then turned around, leaving her. She breathed with relief. But as she stared down at her revolting meal, she noted that he sat down to eat as well and fixed his glance upon her. She knew that he would be there in a second if she did not start eating, and thus she began gulping down the strange white fish with her eyes closed.

When she looked up once again, he was drinking from a brown jar, whereas the female Sith was pushing something white and fluffy in her mouth. Larynthe had no idea what they ate and she did not wish to find out. After they were done with their meal, they put everything away, lifted her to her feet, and ordered her to walk. Larynthe learned very quickly to pause when their master would pause as well, the chill of the Dark side swirling around him, as he was obviously trying to decide in which direction to proceed. In the beginning Lady Tarralyanna would freeze Larynthe in mid-air with a point of her finger, not wishing Larynthe to come too close to her Master while he was trying to bring a decision. These instances have been unpleasant enough for Larynthe and she learned how to behave very quickly, in order to minimise the contact with the Dark side.

The more time she spent with the three Sith, the more Larynthe realized they were not human, that they could not possibly be human. Aside with their peculiar appearance, they seemed to endure the journey just fine, talking and laughing most of the time. Their master never said a word; he was simply leading the way and was not paying the slightest attention to her. Of course, Tarralyanna and Tammutyen were in a far better physical and metal condition than they were in when they started the journey – but the truth was, they never allowed exhaustion to show on their faces. They would rather talk and joke, than admit to themselves and to their bodies that they were weary.

The sight of the bridge leading across the gorge took Larynthe by surprise, and she stared at it with faint hope that she might throw herself off it and die in the depths of the gorge without the Sith noticing. However, they seemed to realise this, and thus they levitated her across the gorge, their hands outstretched before them, the Dark side enveloping Larynthe and making her shiver, depriving her of air. Before she felt a faint glimmer of hope that she was indeed dead, as the warmth of her own body was gone from her, she opened her eyes to find herself lying at the other side, looking at the feet of the Sith master. She looked away at once, taking a few deep breaths, and glanced back at the two just on time to see them cross the bridge. The eyes of the female were closed, she noted with surprise. Was she using the Dark side to navigate her way? Larynthe knew that she could not have done the same thing with the light side. She could stretch out her senses to perceive objects and beings in the distance, but she was not so confident in her abilities that she would use them to navigate her way across a narrow bridge using the Force senses only. She had never thought this was possible in the first place, and she had never seen any master at the Jedi Temple do this either.

The fire of Gnath now a distant echo, they rested in the green valley that brought back the air of hope and certain memory of the light side to Larynthe. Sitting down in the shade of a tree, to which they bound her and left food for her there, she was watching the female Sith coming back from the well, carrying both skins, the male's and hers, on her back, barely visible under them. Larynthe's great shock, however, came as she was eating berries she picked, merely wishing to taste something alive, something filled with the Force, at what the hooded Sith master came up to them and barked out a few harsh words. The two got to their feet at once. The female took out her weapon and the male was busy with his scabbard which he had been carrying on his back all this time. Larynthe breathed in deeply. She was certain they would kill her now. Perhaps she proved to be more of a burden than a amusement for them, and now they finally decided to dispose of her. It was just as well.

But it was quite the opposite. The hooded master stood watching, his hands crossed on his chest, with an air of tremendous authority, while the two began stretching and adjusting their weapons. Larynthe watched the female Sith spin her weapon around her head with her eyes closed, in all directions, alternating the speed and height of the formidable spheres, never looking at it, now concluding that they were ordered to practise. She did not believe such a thing existed for the Sith – she believed that hate and anger would do the trick. She always imagined them as desperate, lonely creatures that gave in to the ways of the Dark side because of their traumas, bad experiences in life, and she never, ever thought for a moment that they might know what honour is, what an honourable duel meant and that they could bear the company of another. But there were three of them and the two seemed to put up with each other just fine, despite of the fact that they seemed to have a somewhat aggressive way of communication.

The male walked out of the field, carrying his weapon and sat down on the grass with his legs spread, stretching and leaving the female stand alone in the centre of the green field, apparently getting ready for something. She began to spin, the spheres revolving around her head, up and down and around, as she jumped, swung and kicked the air with her feet and fists, simulating hits, crouched and sprang, all with incredible speed and control. Larynthe had never seen anything like it and for the first time in weeks, she was actually taking notice of what was going on around her. This seemed to kick her out of the stupor her paltry existence since her capture had been filled with. She tried to imagine what Waak might say if he saw this.

After a few minutes, the female stopped and paused at one place for a moment, after what she relaxed and walked away, whereas the male got to his feet, and, spinning his sword in his one hand, swapped places with her. This seemed to be a regular practice. As he was stomping down the grass and pulling back his gloves, Larynthe had time to look around for their master. He was gone. The female had dropped her weapon to the ground and was standing on one foot only, holding her other one in her hand and pulling it up to her head with a strained expression.

Larynthe's eyes began to water as she tried so very hard to follow what was going on. As they swapped places over and over again and repeated what was obviously the same succession of movements, for she had seen similarities in the movements of both, she was mesmerized with what she was seeing. This was so much different from what they were taught at the Jedi Temple; but all the same, they were not human, and so they could do things humans could not, she thought. However, Sith or not, there was something fantastic about what they were doing, she thought, and this looked like some wild battle dance to her. For what was this used? Why were they not practising with an opponent, like the Jedi do it? Do they not do Force manipulation exercises or practise on objects?

So it went on and on and lasted for over one hour. As they passed each other by they exchanged comments, turning and playing with their weapons as though they were toys, nothing more, nothing less. But they were terrible, lethal toys indeed, remembering the female Sith's duel with her. Perhaps half an hour after they were done and were sitting once again, wiping off sweat, the Sith master reappeared, carrying a weapon in his hand and striding toward them. They bowed as he settled down on the grass beside them and distributed something among them. Now Larynthe had questions piling up in her head and she regretted having already eaten her meal. That way she would have had the chance to ask that inhuman beast a few things, if he would answer. Even if she ended up beaten or tortured, she believed it was worth the risk.

They have been sitting together and eating for some time, not looking at her. The two got to their feet when they were done and started cleaning up, whereas the Sith master, to Larynthe's horror, headed straight toward her. She glued herself to the trunk of the tree she was bound to and stared at the black hood with a growing feeling of horror. He stood before her for a few moments, scrutinising her, after what he raised a hand. Larynthe closed her eyes, bracing up. The Dark side extended from him and hovered over her belly, where her wound used to be, which was now fully healed, and skimmed over her body, searching for more injuries or maladies. She endured this, trembling. Then she felt him reach out for her thoughts. She could not defend herself, even if she wanted to, and she felt the unbearable chill in her every cell, a steely hand rummaging around her mind at will, digging out the particulars of her journey with Waak, all that had transpired, all that they learned about the Sith hiding in Gnath and all of the reasons why they have come there. Then bits and pieces of her dreams, her prophetic visions, began flashing before her mind's eye, with her quite helpless, unable to stop this, feeling paralysed as she felt this steely, unyielding hand search through her mind. At length, when it seemed that he learned all that he wanted to, he withdrew his hand and the chill of the Dark side was gone. He turned around and headed back to the two Sith without a word. Larynthe breathed out, sweat dripping off her forehead. She felt drained and exhausted.

He spoke to the two of them, who leaned closer to hear, after what they looked at Larynthe, who stared back. Then the male broke out of the group and approached Larynthe in a long, firm stride. He pulled at the chain tied around a tree and set her free, tugging her to her feet. He glanced over her and then smirked.

"You shall be riding with Lady Tarralyanna," he said.

"Riding?" whispered Larynthe. She had not used her voice for weeks and it almost seemed as though she forgot how to speak. She caught sight of three black horses trotting toward the Sith, who were now putting saddles on their backs. Where did they come from?

The male Sith wordlessly gave the chain a tug and she stumbled, forced to follow him, the chains on her hands clanking as she skipped after him.

"Are there more of you?" asked Larynthe in a hoarse voice. The Sith looked back in mild surprise.

"More of who?" he asked.

"Sith," she answered, pronouncing the word after a pause.

"Now why would you ask me that?" he asked, turning to her and laughing.

"I am merely curious," she said.

"Humans," he mumbled, snorting with laughter. "My Master," he addressed the Sith master in Albinian, to Larynthe's great surprise. He turned, his hood looking in his direction. "She spoke."

"Indeed," answered a quiet voice from under the hood. He fixed his glance upon Larynthe, who looked down at her feet, thinking fast. Then he looked away, speaking to the female Sith, who was putting things into her saddlebags and adjusting the reins. She nodded to whatever he told her.

Then she turned to Larynthe, disconnected the long chain running from her wrists, putting it away, and pushed her toward her horse. She caught her around her waist, and lifted her easily over her head. Larynthe grabbed the black, smooth leather of the saddle with a jerk, as she was so startled with this she nearly fell over. Then the Sith mounted herself, and, embracing her from the back, spurred the horse forward. Larynthe was much shorter than she was, so that the Sith had a clear view. She shivered as the Sith gripped her firmly from behind, her leather glove resting on her belly. Leaning against her flat, bony chest, Larynthe gazed ahead of her, wondering where they were taking her and realising that every chance of escape or attempt of suicide were now out of the picture, with the Sith riding with her. As they rode on and left the green valley of Jin, mountains began to loom up on the horizon, towering over the land of Gnath which was now a distant memory they left behind them. As it became apparent that the mountains were bound in ice, Larynthe realised with a gasp where they were heading. Gotan, the kingdom of ice and snow.

– end of Part One –