The Sanctuary of Regret
Chapter Fifty-One
Tall, quivering flames jutted against the backdrop of Yavin's night sky. Thin, bright sparks carried the fire's crackle upward before fading like spent firecrackers. Shapes sprouted in the heart of the blaze but refused to form any coherent vision.
"You've been gazing at it for hours," Scourge remarked idly as he picked through the leftovers of one of the ash-rabbits he'd killed earlier for supper.
The silence lingering between them made him wonder if Liatrix had heard him at all, but her sudden pivot to face him, told him she had. "I can feel it," she began, "something big is coming. Whatever it is—it's growing—picking up momentum like a sandstorm."
"I've sensed it as well."
Her lips pursed bitterly. "The fire isn't showing me anything. All I see is a curtain, and nothing I do will pull it back to show me what's behind it."
"Perhaps we're not meant to see—not yet. For what it's worth, the fire hasn't offered me anything besides warmth."
"I hate it. It feels like—secrets are being kept from me. I feel like there is something I should know, but whenever I get close to the answer it slips away. We're not meant to be here. It's the wrong place."
"We've been here far longer than would be considered prudent—and only now you grow restless?"
"Have you been in touch with Lana or Quinn?"
Scourge hesitated, "No."
"Why not? You're supposed to be checking in with them every day."
"I have been—but no one answers."
Liatrix narrowed her eyes. "Why didn't you say something?"
"Because I didn't wish to derail your focus. Your training is vital."
"For all the good it's been doing me," she snapped.
"Progress has been made, but it will take time. I believe, one day, you'll regain much of your ability."
"But not all."
"That—is doubtful." Scourge flung the rabbit carcass into the fire and wiped his hands on his trousers. "I have something for you," he said quickly hoping to change the subject.
Liatrix watched him pluck a black leatheris bundle from inside his pack. The narrow parcel was slightly longer than a data pad and bound in pale suede sinews. "What is it?"
"Open it and find out."
She tugged the bindings apart and unfurled the leatheris. Nestled inside the folds lay an ebony visor resembling a bandit's mask, the eye holes covered with recessed scarlet fabric.
"It's beautiful," she whispered. "Where did you get it?"
"I found the materials inside the temple, fashioned it to suit your needs."
"How did I not see you working on it?"
"It is possible to keep some things secret from you, my Lord Emperor," he teased. Upon seeing the doubt in her eyes, he continued, "I worked at it while you slept. Besides, it's not as if you'd know what I'm doing in my tent…alone."
Liatrix smirked and fastened the mask in place, the engraved ebony a powerful contrast against pale flesh. "Ta-dah…how do I look?"
"How you look is irrelevant—the question is can you see?"
"I see you, the trees, the camp, even the ocean—all of it in varying shades of red like an old photo negative."
"Good, the sight is almost second nature to you now. On your feet," Scourge commanded.
She sprang to her feet a second after he did. His lightsaber growled to life and voiced its threat as he slashed the air before him to issue his challenge.
"No practice sabers tonight?"
"No. It's time mistakes knew consequences."
Liatrix drew her blades, igniting them in unison. She knew he expected her to lunge at him—to make the first move like she usually did—but she refused to indulge him. When he moved, she moved. Step by step, she mirrored him, their gazes locked in a mutual hypnosis—two serpents calculating each other's weakness.
Fangs bared, Scourge charged at her with the force of a bull ronto. Blurry scarlet streaks zoomed past her head forcing her into a pattern of blocking and dodging. The tip of her blade singed his belt.
He tore free of the back and forth. Relentless, he came at her again. Growling blades clashed like a primal mating ritual between titans. Sparks sizzled in her ears and she gritted her teeth.
A Force push threw him back but invited another savage swing of his blade. It whooshed over her body like a scythe. In a balance defying move, she shirked the swinging pendulum, her torso almost parallel to the ground.
Unable to recover from such an angle, she escaped into a backward somersault. Seconds after she'd regained her footing, he came at her swinging. Thrusting her blades upward, she parried his blow. The move distracted her and the back of his free hand connected with her cheek to send her reeling. Her face smarted, blood coating her teeth.
"You lost focus. I am not only my weapon," he admonished.
She coddled her jaw but forced herself to shake off the dull throb in her skull. "That hurt."
"Good. If you survive, I may make it up to you."
"Hah. You wish," she snarled and spat a gob of bloody saliva to her left.
Denying her a moment's rest, he attacked, and again, she surprised him. Instead of the particularly vicious form of Jar'Kai she'd developed, she opted for Soresu form. Efficient blade work and subtle feints turned the battle to her favour. To match her, he was forced to fight harder and cover more ground.
"I know what you're doing," he panted. "Fighting like a Jedi, hoping to exhaust me. Or worse—bore me into submission."
"It's working, isn't it? And now, I fight like a Sith," she snarled, both sabers spinning like propellers as she fell into her preferred form.
"Good," he managed after the kick to his midriff that put him off balance. "Very good."
A dizzying mix of savagery and grace, they battled across every inch of the camp. Every clash, every stunt reminded of the days when they'd hunted Revan.
The playful duel devolved into a dangerous contest of one-up-man-ship just shy of the cliff's edge. Pebbles crunched under their boots and the breakneck dance continued until the berm gave under her right foot.
A strangled cry escaped her. Arms swinging, she fought to regain her balance. Her blades retracted and the falling stones bounced off the cliffside. The scramble to regain ground only deteriorated the ledge further.
"Liatrix!" Scourge grabbed for her sash, the watery material slipping through his gauntlet. Eyes wide, she tumbled backward. Just as he thought she was lost, he gained enough grip to tow her up. She fell against his chest and powerful arms caged her.
"Mind your setting. Always," he said with surprising calm.
She clung to him just as tightly. "I got carried away," she breathed.
"We both did," he scolded, carefully releasing his hold on her. "That's enough for now—but you are improving. You nearly had me."
"I would've if it wasn't for that," she cast an angry side-eye at the jagged ledge.
"As I said, you're improving," he said, ushering her toward the camp.
They returned to the fire and the pot of fresh caf bubbling over it. Liatrix filled their mugs and sat next to him by the fire.
He grunted his thanks and glared at the mug cradled in his hands.
Liatrix drew up her visor-like mask and blew at the curls of steam rising from her cup. "Something must've happened. Quinn and Lana—they wouldn't just ignore us."
"It's most unusual. Neither strikes me as irresponsible."
"Lana doesn't cope well under pressure, but Quinn—he wouldn't avoid us—no way in hell," she murmured, imagining the worst.
Almost as if on cue, Scourge's holo chimed. A complex string of code wriggled over the display.
"That's ours," Liatrix exclaimed. "But why are they sending code across the HoloNet?
Scourge activated the Alliance decoder to reveal the transmission. "I suggest we find out."
Lana's image rose from the device. "Commander, Lord Scourge, thank the maker I've found you. I have—terrible news."
Liatrix set her mug aside and stood. "What's happened, Lana?"
"Jadus attacked us. He leveled the base. We barely escaped with our lives."
Scourge frowned. "Casualties?"
"We lost so many—casualties number in the thousands—only four ships including ours managed to evacuate. Jonas, the doctor, Kira, and their son, made it out with me. The rest—I ordered to lay low for the interim until we re-organize. For now, we're working with our allies—Cipher Nine, Vector Hyllus and Theron."
"Theron? He's with you? Did he say why he abandoned the Alliance?"
"Yes, and he's fine, but I think it's best if he tells you why. It's not a conversation for the holo. Just know that he was protecting you—he was never disloyal."
"He should've come to me," Liatrix said. "Whatever it was, we could've worked it out."
"Yes—but we all know how Theron operates. He's always had a mind of his own."
"True. And what about Quinn? Where's he at?"
Lana hesitated and shifted her weight.
"Where's Quinn, Lana?"
"I'm sorry, Commander. He's gone."
"Gone? What do you mean gone? He took leave, that's what you mean, right?"
"No, Commander. General Quinn gave his life to save us; when the automated targeting system took damage, he stayed behind to operate the ion cannons manually—to cover us, so we could escape."
Liatrix shook her head incredulously. "And you let him?"
"I tried to convince him otherwise. He made the decision and he insisted. We're alive, because of his sacrifice. If it wasn't for him—I'm so sorry," Lana blurted.
"No. No. That's not—that's not possible," Liatrix hissed, her voice shaky. "He made it out, he must have. Somehow."
Scourge's brows met. "Are you certain he's dead?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I sent a probe to search for survivors. There were none."
Fighting tears, Liatrix palmed the lower half of her face and turned away from the transmission.
Scourge paced, arms crossed. "Where are you and the others now?"
"We're at these coordinates—but I don't think it's wise to come here. Jadus's spies are everywhere. It's not safe."
"His spies are irrelevant to me," Scourge growled. "He made an attempt on the Commander's life more than once and has interfered with both the Alliance and the Empire. That cannot go unanswered."
"We have a plan—we're still in the process of pulling it all together. I'd rather not discuss the details here."
"I understand," Scourge barked. "We'll discuss this again," he added meaningfully.
Lana nodded. "Understood. I'm sorry I had to be the bearer of such bad news. You have my condolences. He was an exemplary officer and a fine colleague. Lana out."
The transmission winked out and Scourge cast a wary glance at Liatrix. "The intensity of your grief confounds me," he began. "No officer, no matter how efficient warrants this reaction. What was he to you?"
"He was my friend."
"How close of a friend?" Scourge pressed.
"Close enough to know he was devoted to his wife. He was married to your successor, Darth Fernal. You and she were in the same squadron."
"I remember—she was an honourable woman, a credit to our world—and she was just as devoted to him."
"And how would you know that?"
"Her last words were to him…before the EMP took us down."
"At least they're together now," Liatrix murmured.
"Much to your chagrin, no doubt."
She punched him hard enough to turn his head. "How do you expect this marriage to work, if this is how you're going to be?"
He refused to give her the satisfaction of coddling his cheek, but the slight twitch under his eye betrayed him. "You've given thought to the state of our marriage?"
"Of course I have."
"That—is unexpected."
"Well, I'm just full of surprises, aren't I," she snapped. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. Morning comes early, and I assume we're leaving for Rishi."
"You assume correctly."
She left him standing by the fire and stalked steadily across the camp before disappearing inside her tent. Halfway to his own tent, a realization struck him—she wasn't wearing her mask.
At Vowrawn's stronghold on Alderaan, Fernal leaned against the window ledge and smiled at the view. Points of chartreuse grass pierced the waning blanket of snow surrounding a snowman taller than its creator. Three akk pups leapt and yapped to catch the balls Sephna threw in their direction. Andronikos Revel kept a distant guard and tipped a durasteel flask to his lips.
"You seem to be in excellent spirits, my love," Quinn said as he sidled in to embrace her and share the view. "Have you spoken to her yet?"
"No, not yet. I was hoping it was something we could do together."
"It appears the Captain is heading indoors. Perhaps, we should take this opportunity."
"Good thinking," Fernal turned in his arms and petted the front of his tunic. "Let's go."
Outside, Sephna brushed a cloud of snow from her mittens and stood when Fernal and Quinn approached. "I don't want to go in yet," she protested. "Five more minutes. Please?"
"Not to worry, we're not here to cut short your fun," Fernal began. "I rather hoped we could talk."
"'Bout what?"
Fernal knelt on one knee before her. "I've noticed you have a great deal of potential—but all Force users require training—lessons on how to use their gifts properly. I'm of a mind to teach you if you're willing to be my apprentice."
Her eyes grew wide and her expression brightened but after a moment's thought, her shoulders slumped and the smile on her face faded. "I can't," she whispered. "I have to find my brother. Nik said he'd help me. I can't leave Nik. He's my friend."
"It does you credit to show such loyalty and concern for them both—and should your brother be found, I would be willing to train him as well. You'd be reunited and we would give you all the amenities you'll require."
Sephna's brows furrowed. "What are amena-tees?"
"Food, clothing, a warm, clean bed; a caring home—and perhaps even in time, you might look on us as a sort of family. The galaxy can be a harsh place alone."
"Will you help me find my brother? He's all I've got."
"Not all—you have friends, and yes, we'll help you."
"I have enemies too. Darth Nox hates me."
"All the more reason to let us protect you," Quinn said.
"Precisely," Fernal added.
Sephna threw herself at Fernal and hugged her. "Thank you Lord Fernal, thank you, Gen'ral Quinn."
Fernal returned the embrace and smiled. "Good, then it's settled."
"But what about Nik?"
"Well, that's up to him, but I did offer him a position on our crew."
Sephna hugged her more tightly and buried her face into Fernal's shoulder.
Inside, Nox stood at the window and frowned. "What do you suppose that's all about," she said, nodding at the trio in the snow.
Vowrawn leaned forward in his armchair and peered out. "If I were to guess, it appears to be the end of our problems."
"Or the beginning. Any word from your spies?"
"As a matter of fact, I did receive an interesting tidbit this morning."
"Oh?"
"It seems Jadus is rather focussed on Rishi at the moment," he said swirling his brandy.
"Why?"
"Some obsession of his, what does it matter? We find him, we find the boy…two birds with one stone, I say—then we can finally return home."
"My dear Veles, I do love the way you think—so, are we leaving for Rishi?"
"Not yet—why not enjoy a few more days here? Let my men do the dirty work—then we'll pounce."
"Perfect," Nox purred.
"Not quite," he said, taking her hand. "Perfection would be you on your knees, ministering to me."
"I have an even better idea of perfection," she said, kneeling.
He cupped her cheek. "One I will soon explore, my'dear."
Jonas sauntered into the control room of the Rishi base. "Any luck yet?"
Lana stood. "As a matter of fact, yes. Your suggestion to broadcast the code worked. I made contact—regrettably, all I had to offer was bad news."
"Yeah—well at least we can reach them now. They comin' here?"
"Given what Lord Scourge said, I'm inclined to think so. How was your trip?"
"Vector's with his people. We should know later if they're gonna help. Ilia and Theron are in position. It's just a matter of time now. Let's hope Jadus bites."
"What if the Killiks aren't willing?" Lana asked.
"Then we'll improvise like we always do. Why do you have to be such a buzzkill? It'll work."
Four hours into sleep, Scourge woke with a start. Suddenly alert, he cocked his head and listened. A piercing shriek silenced the jungle's murmurs and a lightsaber ignited. "That was no dream," he muttered and tore out of his tent, weapon in hand.
As he neared her tent, the shriek became a mournful wail. Cautiously, he pulled back the flap and peered inside. Alone, Liatrix winced in her sleep, arms coiled around her pillow. A deluge of tears pooled under her lashes. Her lightsaber lay at her side and a smoking burn pierced the pillow.
He knelt and scooped her into his arms. "You're dreaming. Wake up," he murmured and gave her a gentle shake. "Liatrix. Wake up."
After he'd pulled the pillow away, she woke in his arms, trembling. She flinched as if expecting someone else. "Whatever it was—it was only a dream," he said, petting her hair.
"It felt so real," she whispered, clinging to him like her life depended on it.
"What happened?"
"Deston—he was alive. I held him in my arms. I was so happy."
"That doesn't sound so bad."
"But it was—because I killed him," she sobbed into his shoulder. "I killed my son," she gasped. "How could I do that?"
"You didn't—it was a terrible nightmare," he reassured, pressing a kiss into her hair. "That's all it was."
"What does it mean?"
"Ssshh. Enough. It was only a dream—you could never do such a thing."
After she calmed, he released his hold on her and moved toward the tent flaps to leave. "Try to sleep," he whispered.
"Stay…"
Scourge smirked. "If I remain, there will be no sleeping. For either of us."
"I don't want to be alone."
He considered her words carefully before issuing his surrender. "Who am I to argue with my Lord Emperor?" He asked, returning to her side.
((to be continued…))
