Chapter Five

Malus Var, Lord of the Sith and Liege-Mage of the Dyran system, lay on the floor of Landru's tent. It had been 4,000 years since he last felt air in his lungs and blood surging through his veins.

He gasped and took a deep breath. The air he drew into his lungs was musty and cold. He moved his arms and legs. The ground was hard and gritty against his skin. But he reveled in it. Alive. I am alive.

He sat up and began to take stock of the body he now possessed. He ground his teeth in frustration. Not only was this body old, it was diseased. Weak. Crippled. He could access the Force, but only faintly, for the body did not possess the natural ability to channel it. Only the strength of Malus' will allowed him to draw what little power he could from the Dark Side.

Malus shook with impotent rage. This body was pathetic, he thought angrily. He stood slowly. His legs trembled beneath him.

Weak old fool. The professor had been so easy to control, even from beyond the Veil, but this decrepit body of his would serve Malus only for a brief time.

Malus moved silently to the front of the tent and peered through a small tear in the fabric. His blood surged with rage at the sight of the Jedi. It had been Jedi Masters of 4,000 years ago who had imprisoned Malus' spirit in the amulet.

A fitting punishment, they had deemed, for his crimes. Not for him the sweet oblivion of death. No, his enemies had wanted him to suffer and suffered he had, for 4,000 years, mindful of each and every agonizing second which had passed as his spirit lay trapped in the amulet. Malus' fury nearly blinded him as he stared at the Jedi.

Mindful, though, of how vulnerable he was in this wreck of a body, Malus quickly shielded his presence. He considered for a moment stealing the Jedi's body, but knew it would be impossible to control for any length of time. The Jedi's spirit would oppose him even unto death.

Malus' eyes shifted to the female as she came out of her tent. He lightly swept his awareness over her. Ah, he sighed. This was too good to be true. Not only was the female young and healthy, she was also very strong with the Force. And, best of all, she possessed none of the Jedi's defenses nor strengths. He suspected she had not even been trained.

Malus smiled wickedly and the eyes he now possessed, which once had been as green as summer leaves, but were now as red and dark as dried blood, glittered with eagerness. Once he had possession of the female's body he would finally leave this planet which had been his prison for the last 4,000 years. But first he had to rid himself of the accursed Jedi.

Malus looked back at the Jedi. He was large and powerfully built and in this weak, sickly body Malus knew he was no match for him. Malus needed a weapon. But not just any weapon.

He slowly licked his lips. Yes, the Jedi deserved a very special kind of weapon and Malus knew just where to find it. Neither the professor nor the female had discovered his private chambers deep in the heart of the temple.

Malus moved to the rear of the tent. As he passed the cot he picked up the scrolls and the amulet and shoved them inside his tunic. Then he stealthily lifted the back cover of the tent and scurried under it. Once outside, he kept to the shadows along the cavern wall and slipped unnoticed past the Jedi and the female. With a last glance to ensure he had not been seen, Malus darted into the temple.

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Cian came out of her tent with a blanket. While she had been talking to Qui-Gon the cavern had gotten colder. She stopped at the sight of the Jedi bent over the ground, methodically picking up one stone after another, examining them carefully and then laying them down.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she walked over to him.

Qui-Gon didn't look at her as continued to examine the stones. "I'm looking for stones."

Cian blew out an exasperated breath. She sat down and wrapped herself in the blanket.

"I can see you're looking for stones. I suppose the better question is, why are you looking for stones?"

He picked up another stone, held it briefly in his hand, then set it down. He looked over at her. "I'm looking for a keepsake."

"A keepsake?"

"Yes, but not for me. For a little girl. She's an initiate at the temple. I bring her a stone from every world I visit."

"I see. Why?"

"You wouldn't understand," he said.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because it's between Aalea and me."

"Really?" Cian said airily. "How terribly nice for the both of you."

Qui-Gon's brows drew downward in a slight frown and his mouth tightened.

Cian sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm being rude and I don't mean to be. I think it's very sweet actually. Is that her name, Aalea? That's a pretty name. She must have quite a collection."

A small smile ruffled Qui-Gon's mouth. He picked up another stone, rubbed it thoughtfully. "She does at that."

"What is she like? How old is she?"

Qui-Gon laid the stone down. He moved closer to Cian and sat.

"She's eight. A tiny thing, smaller than most children her age."

His voice was distant and tender as he continued to speak.

"Black hair, like the dark between the stars. Violet eyes. The color of a Jaharan rose. She's...." Qui-Gon stopped.

"Yes?" Cian prompted him.

"She's special," he finished.

"Is she your padawan?"

Qui-Gon glanced at her, his brows rising in surprise.

Cian smiled. "I know some things about the Jedi, Master Jinn. My father might have been a bit fanatical in his views regarding your Order, but I'm not completely ignorant about your practices."

Qui-Gon dipped his head to her. "My apologies, Mistress Nyal. No, Aalea isn't my padawan. My padawan's name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's 15."

"And what is he like?" Cian asked

A small smile played about Qui-Gon's mouth. "Dedicated, but stubborn. Brave, but reckless. Compassionate, but opinionated. He's also a very great admirer of the professor. Obi-Wan has read all of the professor's works on the history of the Jedi and the Old Republic. Actually, he was hoping I could get Professor Landru to sign something for him."

"Why didn't he come with you? Aren't padawans supposed to accompany their Masters?

"He was injured on our last mission. I sent him on ahead to Coruscant to recover."

"He means a lot to you, doesn't he?"

Qui-Gon said nothing at first, then he looked at her and replied softly, "Yes, he does."

Cian nodded. "It's hard to be away from someone you care about."

She gazed over at him with her dark gray eyes and, as Qui-Gon looked back at her, he found his eyes lingering on her lush full lips. For a moment a vaguely erotic current passed between the two of them.

Qui-Gon looked down quickly. Cian was very lovely, that he could not deny, but he was on a mission and his first duty was to see to her and the professor's safety. He picked up another stone and turned it slowly around in his hand.

"Cian," he said, "how did you mask your presence from me in the hut at the base camp?"

Cian jumped at the change in the conversation. Her eyes hardened as she stared at him, her face suddenly tight and wary. She didn't answer right away. Again, she studied him with that narrow-eyed look, almost as if she were trying to see inside his soul before she responded.

"I've known how to do it since I was a child," she said finally. "Made me quite unpopular at the seeking and hiding games."

"But who taught you?"

"No one. I just thought about doing it one day and I did it."

Qui-Gon digested this.

"What else can you do?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she said, her voice sharp with suspicion.

"Cian, there's no reason for you to fear me. I'm just curious."

Cian sighed. "I can heal too. But only small animals, birds and such." She glanced down. "I kept it a secret, though. I never told anyone."

She looked back up at him. "And I don't even know why I'm telling you. Why do you want to know?"

"It's just unusual for someone who hasn't been trained to do the things you do."

Cian frowned. She plucked at the edge of her blanket. "My father told me how you Jedi came to see him and Mama when I was a baby. He told me the Jedi wanted to take me away but he wouldn't let them."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Cian, no one would have taken you away unless your parents agreed to it. A request was made by the Order to train you. That is all. You have a natural gift. Such children are sought out by our Order, but they are never forcibly taken away from their families."

"I don't believe in the Force, you know," she said suddenly, her voice rising.

"But you feel it, don't you?" Qui-Gon said gently.

Cian looked across at him, her eyes full of uncertainty and confusion.

"No," she finally whispered. "I do not."

Qui-Gon sighed. "Cian..." Then he stopped. He decided to drop the subject for the time being.

"Why did you and the professor stop sending reports to the AAC?" he asked instead.

Cian visibly relaxed at the shift in the conversation. "The professor told me to stop. He was quite adamant about it."

"And you didn't question him on it?"

Cian yawned. "No. We were so busy once we found the temple, it wasn't as if we had time to send regular reports."

"You should get some sleep," Qui-Gon said.

Cian nodded. She glanced at his haversack. "Do you need a blanket or anything?"

"No, I'm fine. Good night, Cian."

"Good night, Master Jinn."

Cian entered her tent and sealed the opening. Qui-Gon spread his robe on the ground, but he was nowhere near ready for sleep. He opened his haversack and took his journal and stylus out of it.

-------

Cian lay on her cot. Thoughts whirled in her head. The Force. The Jedi. Qui-Gon. She thought about the little girl, Aalea, and Qui-Gon's apprentice, Obi-Wan, and she wondered what her life would have been like if she had been allowed to attend the Temple.

She found herself thinking about how, when she was a very little girl, she used to lie on the grassy banks of the river near her parent's estate and let that wonderful, bright, silvery energy for which she had had no name flow through her. It had felt to her as if everything that surrounded her, the river, the grass, the wind, the world and the sky which arched above her, had been a part of her. But, as she had grown older she had suppressed that part of herself. Her parents did not believe in the Force and, since she was her parents' child, neither did she.

Cian frowned in the dark. To be honest she didn't see what difference it would have made to her parents where she had been raised. For they had scarcely been around when she was a child. They had always been traveling and, even when they had been home, hadn't spent much time with her. She had been raised by a nursemaid and the servants.

Then her parents had died in that terrible starliner accident near Primus IV and she had lived for a time in Valorum's household. Her parents had left her enough money so that she was able to attend Alderaan University when she was old enough. There she had met Professor Landru.

She had attended one of his lectures on Jedi artifacts and was instantly hooked. She took every class he offered and read all his works. Upon entering graduate studies, she immediately applied for a position as his assistant. And, although she knew he was perceived by most as a difficult man, he had always treated her with a consistent, if distracted, kindness.

It was while doing research for the professor's latest work that Cian came across the obscure reference to Dyran and the possibility the planet had once been the site of a Jedi outpost during the Great Sith War. Landru's eyes lit up when he saw the reference. He immediately requested funding from the AAC for a dig. It was granted and soon after he and Cian left for Dyran. It wasn't until after they arrived that Landru confessed to Cian he was ill.

They began their work but, instead of a Jedi outpost, three weeks ago they had found the Sith temple. Their exploration of the temple had went well and then, about two weeks ago, the professor had begun to act strangely. Cian had thought it was just his illness, but that was also when she started having those strange, scary feelings; what Qui-Gon described as a disturbance in the Force.

Cian reached over and pulled her music box from the pocket inside her cloak. It was the only gift her parents had given her which Cian still owned. All the other perfunctory presents which had been delivered to her from whatever planetary system her parents had been visiting Cian had given away to orphanages after her parents had died.

She slowly opened the box and watched as the angel from the moons of Iego danced and spun. She listened to the gentle, familiar music as it played over and over. Then suddenly Cian shivered as a feeling of dread and foreboding stole over her.

She quickly closed the music box, shoving it back inside her cloak. The music didn't soothe her like it usually did. She couldn't shake that terrible, persistent feeling that something was horribly wrong.

Cian fiercely shook her head. No, there was no such thing as the Force and most certainly no such thing as a disturbance in the Force. The Jedi was wrong. Cian drew her blanket over her head and tightly closed her eyes. I don't feel anything. Not a thing.

To be continued....