Evening was falling quickly as the hunters freed their prey from the carrying pole, but left his
wrists and ankles bound together. Bearing his situation with quiet dignity, Sidious sat in silence, trying to gain these people' s respect with showing himself to be fearless and calm. The women gathered fire-wood and stacked it up in small neat piles, six in total, that were spread in a circle around Sidious and the pole bearing the mummified goddess. Roj Kell, he found, had retreated further, barely visible in the dusky gloom. A cheer went up from the crowd suddenly, and from where Sidious sat he could see a torch dance above their heads as one of their number made his way over to the circle. When he came into view Sidious almost smiled. Dressed like the others this one wore additional jewelry, charms, most probably, feathers and claws and strange-looking roots. A crown of trinkets adorned his bald head and his tiny eyes were sunken deeply into a leathery face lined with age. A shaman of sorts, the Sith Lord guessed.
The newcomer looked sharply at Roj Kell, who, to his student's surprised, took a respectful step back. Amazed, Sidious shook his head. He never would have thought that his mentor would yield to anyone, much less show respect! The shaman, carrying the torch, began chanting softly, and after a while the crowd fell into that chant at certain intervalls, sometimes shouting forcefully, sometimes whispering. Touching the torch to each pile as he rounded the circle, the shaman lit the fires and soon the small square was awash with the light of yellow flames, making shadows dance wildly across the earthen huts. Sparks flew everywhere, and the rising wind threw them high into the air so they almost rivaled the stars spread above. All the while the shaman kept up his chant. When all fires were burning to his satisfaction he took a step back, facing the mummified female directly. On cue, the hunters hefted their short wooden spears and began to dance to the females' rythmic singing. It was all really quaint and amusing, Sidious found, but reluctantly he found himself drawn into their spell.
Apparently it was customary with these people to honor their prey with a ceremony such as this one. He had heard that primitive tribes often held such traditions, and suddenly he wondered whether that was the reason for Kell's acting so strangely. After all, the Jen-People, Roj Kell's own clan, had also been a primitive people. Seeing his master in a much different and new light, Sidious was torn between fascination and contempt. Perhaps that was the reason for the man's lack of ambition and refusal of real power. Some ancient religion, perhaps, that bound him to some strange oath. His smile widened. Here was an interesting thought ... All the while the dance grew faster, the singing louder, until it ended abruptly in a single shout uttered by dozens of throats. The dancers stopped as if struck by lightning. And a crackling sound from above made Sidious look up.
Eyes widening in surprise, he watched the mummy unfold its stiff limbs ever so slowly as she moved her head over the edge of the small platform she sat on. Empty eyes gazed at the Sith Lord out of infinity, and he felt himself scrutinized by something far more powerful than he had expected. Mouth running dry, he realized that again he had put too much trust in appearances and words. But this was impossible! He did not believe in the supernatural! How could this old crone be alive? Rising ever so slowly, her body crackling softly, the goddess stood and extended her hands to the heavens. The shaman gave a piercing cry in response, and suddenly the dancers took up where they had left off, stomping wildly to the voices of the females, and drums joined their steady beat, building a cacaphony of such intensity that Sidious thought he might go mad! Then the dancers began picking up branches from the burning piles, waving the torches above their heads in imitation of their goddess. They were weaving intricate patterns through the darkness of night, making Sidious feel dizzy.
The rhythmic shouts and drums quickly made his heart beat in tune and it galloped away wildly in his chest, intensifying his uneasiness. Eyes wide, Sidious realized that if he did not manage to break the spell he would be rendered helpless after all. With difficulty he calmed himself again, closing his eyes for a moment, but they snapped open instantly when he almost sickened up. Breathing in deeply, the Sith Lord let his anger drain away. It was shaming for him to do so, but it was what his master had taught him time and again. It had to be good for something. Slowly, he looked up again to face the goddess, but she ignored him, her empty gaze fixed on the sky. Then a movement close by made Sidious drop his eyes once more, to find the shaman standing before him. The tiny creature garbled something at him, and it sounded like an insult.
"The great spirit is with you too," a distinctly beautiful, embodied voice translated, floating through the darkness dotted with fire. "It is a challenge," Roj Kell added quietly. "They honor you, but this ritual will break you, if you don't act quickly. They are quite powerful in their own way."
Sidious gave a slow nod, as much to tell his mentor he had heard as to show the shaman that he had understood. So that was why Kell was standing back. The old coward never entered a fight he could not win. Almost disgusted, Sidious called one of the burning branches to him and let it hover. The shaman's eyes went big as teacups and he whispered a short incantation. The fire died. Sidious gave a mirthless smile. Cute, that trick, but he could do the same. Three more torches darted over to the Sith Lord and this time, before his opponent could react, Sidious extended his bound hands and stuck his crossed wrists right into the flames. Realizing his intent, the tiny shaman moved to extinguish the torches again, but Sidious was just as fast and channelled the heat into his adversary as that one held on to it. With a cry the shaman stumbled back, and Sidious dramatically broke the leather bands apart that had held his hands and had been burned through by the flames. Now he only needed to free his ankles. But as he bent down to do just that he did not spare any attention on the shaman, who was still reeling from the attack. Which proved to be an almost fatal mistake.
Roj Kell was smiling to himself as he watched Sidious perform like a street-conjurer, with as much disdain for his audience. It was clear that the younger Sith saw this as mere child's play, but then, he always tended to underestimate his enemies. While his student's attention was fixed on the shaman, the ancient Sith was more aware of the mummy standing atop the pole, arms stretched upward, almost as if in trance. While the crowd around her was sinking into confusion, she stood unmoving, then began swaying slightly to an unheard tune. But Roj Kell knew that song intimately, and he found it speaking to him too. Eyes falling half close, he breathed deeply, sensing a curious warmth spread through his body. Drowsy, he dropped down where he stood in the shadows at the edge of the square and continued to watch the duel unfolding before them in fascination.
A distant rumble caught his attention and he looked up, groggy, to find clouds racing toward the clearing, a storm gathering. He smiled in delight at the spectacle, but a scream focused his gaze back on his apprentice. Sidious' eyes might as well have thrown sparks for the ferocity that burned in them as he faced the shaman. The tiny alien, totally calm, had thrown a necklace around the Sith Lord's neck, a charm that allowed him to control his victim to a certain extent. Jerking upright, Sidious was the epitome of indignation and rage. And the crowd began laughing at the unexpected turn of events. The shaman made an announcement to the assembled tribe that brought more gales of laughter and enraged Sidious even more. Despite himself, Roj Kell joined in the small aliens' mirth. And still he kept his eyes focused on the storm, and the goddess.
"Why, you pitiful little midget!" Sidious exclaimed, tearing at the necklace brutally and flinging it away in a shower of small bones and other charms. "I'll show you just what – " He did not get any further.
With startling abruptness lightning flashed down from the black clouds in the night sky above and wreathed the Sith Lord in white-hot electricity. For a moment Roj Kell felt his heart stop with concern and he sat up straighter, frowning. This was unexpected, and it could kill Sidious .... Tensing all over, the ancient Sith Lord prepared to interfere, but he needn't have bothered. Painfully slow his student calmed his spasming limbs, his face eerily serene as he straightened up, wrapped in a blue fire of darkness. Kell could feel the lightning stab through the younger man's body mercilessly, but it caused no harm, on the contrary. Sidious had found his focus and could channel the deadly power safely, which would have been impossible for him to do had he let his rage continue to control him further. This sort of self-control under extreme stress was excellent, to say the least. Eyes gleaming with satisfaction, Roj Kell felt his smile return.
"Now," he whispered softly under his breath, "take their hearts and make them yours."
Darth Sidious felt a terrible calm spread throughout his body, as serene as death itself. But he knew he was winning. The shaman stood facing him, mouth agape and yellow-black eyes wide with disbelief. So, this is the worst you can do, is it? Sidious thought nastily, but never lost his focus. In a way he had separated emotion from reason, and it was reason that allowed him to absorb the lightning hurled at him from above. Yet it was still hard for him to express his triumph the way he wanted. Forcing a smile on his lips slowly, he raised his left hand, watching the shaman follow its arc in fascination. Then, releasing the power bottled within himself, Sidious let it obliterate the pole standing at his back, and the goddess with it.
Gradually his heart-beat quickened again and he felt feeling return to his body. Incredibly satisfied, he raised his head high. Pride flooded his entire being, and he basked in its radiant glow gratefully.
This was it. This was true control. Now he could do anything. Anything at all.
Lowering his gaze again he fixed his opponent in a cold glare. All that was left for this would-be-sorcerer was surrender. Here, in front of his entire tribe. Oh, the humiliation would be worth everything to watch! Hah! He could see the assembly gaze as one at the shaman, rigid with anticipation as they waited for his reaction. Wrapped in smoke and the stink of burned dead flesh, Darth Sidious stood like a god on judgement day himself. Yes, he was a god, he was their god!
"Bow to your god," he hissed, his smile turning into an inhuman snarl.
The shaman's answer was as fierce at it was abrupt. His tiny body seemed to convulse in anger as he said a single word, right hand clenched tightly into a fist. Then he dropped to the ground, dead. Bereft of his revenge, Sidious felt like screaming out loud. But then he caught Roj Kell's eye and decided against showing that much disappointment over the shaman's cowardly departure. What had he said? What had he called him? Frowning, Sidious glared at the assembled tribes-people. They shied away from his gaze, seeking reassurance from one another. Then the ones standing closest slowly began to kneel, outstretched palms and foreheads pressed on the ground. This was more like it! Taking a deep breath, Sidious felt his chest swell again with triumph. He could sense that they were sincere in their worship, if slightly confused. But that was unimportant. All that mattered was that he had succeeded.
"Very nice," he said softly. "And true faith deserves to be rewarded, does it not?"
Half an hour later, upon reaching the edge of the square where Roj Kell still sat unmoving, his face gleaming in the light of the fires, Darth Sidious came to a stop and propped his hands on his thighs, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath again. "Mission accomplished, master," he managed, gulping for more air.
"Yes."
Sidious looked up into the other's eyes, frowning. There had been something in the old man's voice, something strange. "Master?" he asked tentatively, but Kell made a dismissive gesture and rose from his seat on the ground. Automatically Sidious bent down to grab his master's cloak and handed it to him. Taking it without looking at Sidious, Kell nodded at the village burning to ashes around them.
"You have overcome your deepest fears, have shed the last bonds of your past. You have embraced your destiny fully." His enchanting voice seemed to echo the roaring voices of the flames, and Sidious felt his own blood sing in his ears with pride. "Come," Roj Kell told him with a nod. "We are leaving."
"Master, where to?"
"You will follow where I lead, apprentice," the ancient Sith said in a hiss, and suddenly Darth Sidious felt his heart nearly stop in dread.
That had been lesson number one, not to question, only to follow and observe. He nodded mutely and plodded after the older man, pondering the events of this night and what they might mean. Perhaps this way he could find out where they were going. His heart was still racing from the excertion, the thrill of power, and it slowed only gradually. So he had embraced his destiny fully? He had done that years ago, when he had first decided to become what he was now. He had learned all there was to learn, had studied dilligently, and now he had reached the same point where he had begun? Or did this mean something else?
His breathing quickened ever so slightly. Perhaps his master had decided that it was time for Sidious to embrace not only his destiny, but also his reward for long years of hardship. If so, then they would be going to Korriban, for Sidious to be initiated as Sith Master. That vision was so elating that Sidious did not even realize that they had reached their ship already. Tearing himself out of his daydreaming, the Sith Lord shot a guilty glance at Roj Kell, who was smiling at him, that old mocking smile that Sidious hated so much.
"Indeed, apprentice," he said softly. "Our destination is the world of the dead, Korriban."
Needless to say that Sidious spent the journey in a joyous stupor, full of fervent dreams of glory, of his achieving all of his goals, gaining the power he knew he was destined to wield. Yet when they arrived on the stormy planet of Korriban the mood seemed to change abruptly. The gloomy world doused his enthusiasm somewhat as he remembered his initiation as Sith apprentice all those years ago, his apprenticeship to Darth Nexus, his first master's death. He was no longer in control of his life, he realized then, was not his own master anymore. He was simply a follower. Doubt gushed his mind hotly. Deep down he knew that he deserved to be awarded at last, that he would fight this time, should Kell deny him what was rightly his. Doubt was replaced by determination.
"Good, good," he heard his master mutter to himself, as they entered the underground maze of the destroyed Temple of the Dead. It had yielded to the unrelenting fire of a Republic fleet, centuries ago, Sidious knew.
Suddenly he felt very suspicious. He knew his master well enough to realize that he might be playing again, toying with his apprentice's mind to confuse him. This time, though, Sidious vowed to emerge on top of the game. They reached the large cave-like hall that had eroded over the centuries, as water dripped down into the room through holes that had been punched through the rock ceiling by heavy lasers and falling masonry. Only remnants of the decorative carvings were still visible here, illuminated by the drab light that fell through a few of the holes. From time to time thunder beat down from above, echoing from the walls. In the midst of the chamber a weathered stone altar, edges broken, stood, almost not recognizable anymore.
Roj Kell stopped a few paces from the altar, studying it closely. A knife appeared in his hands at a flick of his wrist, an ornate dagger. In an instant Sidious felt his heart beat up in his throat. Pointing toward the altar with the dagger, Roj Kell waited until the apprentice had obediently knelt down before the slab of stone, waiting in dire anticipation.
"You have done very well, Darth Sidious, and even exceeded my expectations," the ancient Sith began, his magical voice filling the entire chamber easily. "That is a very rare occurence. Therefore I deem you ready to become master of the Dark Side, to follow the Dark Lords of the Sith and continue their legacy." Sidious could sense the old man step up behind him, and the tip of the dagger bore slightly into the base of his neck. If he answered wrong now, he would die, he knew. Not that he would refuse that offer, not at all! "I ask you once, Darth Sidious, for once you shall pass this portal, or never. Are you prepared to take up the torch of darkness and carry it further into the light?"
"I am prepared and ready," Sidious breathed, his voice trembling with excitement. Yet his mind was very cool, swimming in a sea of clearly defined objectives, thoughts and plans. There was chaos, but it was controlled, there was passion, yet it was reined in. There was no fear.
The point of the dagger withdrew, and there was a sound of something being cut. Sidious almost flinched when a drop of warm blood fell on his brow and clung to the lashes of his eyes. More drops followed, running down his forehead, his cheeks, dripping from his chin and the tip of his nose.
"My world is darkness, my weapon is fear. My hatred devours all who stand in my path, my power shadows the light. For I am a child of darkness, I am heir to the fires of creation. I am chaos and I am death. My name is Sith."
Sidious repeated the words under his breath, along with the incantation spoken by his master, soon to be ex-master.
"I have seen the dark heart of fear, the cold flame of hatred, I command the power of the Dark Side. I am reborn in flame as I become master of my fate, and the fate of those who oppose me."
Darth Sidious was so focused on the words, recited in that magical voice of shadows and moonlight, that he did not even flinch when he found himself the center of an icy blue fire. Rising slowly, he reached out to embrace that power, to suck it into his self, let it become one with himself. It was deadly cold, yet he warmed it with his power, tamed it with his own mind. Gradually it receded into his own body, filling him entirely, making him gasp in ecstasy. There was no thought in that void, no being, only power. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, he found himself back in the cave, standing upright, facing his master across the altar. Roj Kell had flipped the dagger around and held it handle first out to his former apprentice. Their eyes met across the slab of stone, as equals for the first time. He could not suppress a wicked smile as he took the knife. This was what he had been waiting for all those years. This was his reward. He was free at last, free to pursue his dreams, his goals, and make them happen. His smile widened into a toothy grin.
"Do I get to kill my master now?" he asked slyly, and Roj Kell answered his grin with a cool smile of his own.
"You may become master, Darth Sidious, but never mine," he answered calmly, and in that moment his presence seemed to expand beyond his mortal shell, a subtle reminder of his power, and in an instant Darth Sidious realized that he was indeed no match for Roj Kell. Yet. Nodding slowly, he raised his left hand and cut deeply into the palm, drawing blood.
"I am Sith," he said at last, and reached out across the altar to lay his palm against that of his former master, sealing the bond that would finish the rite. Now he was bound to the Sith forever.
Withdrawing again slowly, Sidious held Roj Kell's eyes with his, and neither of the two men looked away. They were still locked in that match when the wound in Sidious' hand closed again, leaving unbroken skin and completely whole flesh and sinews that had been slashed only moments before.
"So you are," Roj Kell whispered, and his pale eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Be careful, though. Mastery spawns either wisdom or arrogance."
"In your case, both," Sidious shot back, annoyed.
The older man laughed out loud. "Droll, very droll. I can see you will not be experiencing any trouble in that regard."
"No," Darth Sidious whispered, "I don't think so either."
For a long moment neither man moved, but then Kell took another step back, signalling his retreat. Sidious turned to face him as he rounded the altar and walked toward the cave entrance without another word.
"So this where it ends?" Sidious asked calmly.
For a moment Roj Kell lingered in the doorway. "Yes," he said at last. "This is where it ends. You are on your own now."
"And what is to hinder me from killing you eventually?"
"Eventually is not now, Sidious. And for now, my friend, you will consider very carefully whether fighting me is really worth it. I am leaving," he added very quietly. "Should you try to stop me now I will regret having to kill you after all."
He stepped out into the hallway followed by nothing but silence. Walking away, he found himself reminded of another time, another farewell, a long time ago. It had been on Alderaan, in a beautiful grove that had been fashioned into a graveyard, as he recalled.
For a long time he had stood, listening to the funeral service. There had been lengthy speeches, tears and even some cordial laughter. He was certain that Hagen would have approved. The Jedi Master had died five years after their last encounter, perishing in a battle during the Welmayan Civil War, his ship torn apart by enemy fire. What a waste. Roj Kell had been deeply moved by his friend's death, and only then had he realized what Hagen Dycos' friendship had truly meant to him.
After the service, with the crowd of attendees gradually dissolving into a sunny afternoon, he was joined by Kane Jinn. The former Jedi Knight did not say anything at first, leaving the older man time to adjust to his presence. Then, a few minutes had passed, Kell turned toward Kane, seeing the boy who had grown into a man, a Jedi Master like Hagen, no matter that he had left the Order.
"Who would have thought we'd meet again like this?" Kane asked lightly.
"No one, I believe," Roj Kell answered, blinking into the afternoon sun, before he walked over to the fresh grave to examine it closely. The inscription of the tomb stone was very simple.
Hagen Dycos – May The Force Be With You
Standing there in front of that grave, Roj Kell felt that his last ties to the Jedi Order had just been severed completely. Hagen had been his friend, they had respected one another, and after some discussions they had refrained from trying to convert the other to their respective beliefs. Yet a seed had been planted in each man's heart, and it had grown within Hagen, and had spread to Kane Jinn eventually, who now walked up to join Kell at the Jedi Master's grave. They stood in silence like that for a while.
Then Kane said: "He sacrificed so much for the Order, and now I feel we have not given back even half of what he deserved. It makes me angry to think that such a great man should die as any other, and so senselessly too."
"Rewards are not something one should crave too much, Kane Jinn," Kell reminded the younger man." He found satisfaction in his deeds alone, not in what he accomplished. And yet, all that he has given will be returned one day, I know."
Looking sharply at the older man, Kane Jinn frowned deeply. "I wish I had your knowledge, Lord Kell," he whispered. "Then I would understand why we must go through such pain to achieve true happiness."
"So others can walk in peace," the ancient Sith replied. Kneeling down at the grave he put a hand on the tomb stone's rough surface, letting his palm glide over the inscription. "May the Force be with you and guide you on your way into the future," he added solemnly, feeling his heart ache with grief. So many years ago Hagen had broken that cold heart once already, this time though, Kell felt the agony over his loss even more acutely.
"Tell me," Kane Jinn asked very quietly. "Did you ever hope that he would continue your legacy? That he would become your successor?"
He gazed up at that earnest face, those open blue eyes, and shook his head. "No. He gave me much reason to be proud, much joy at his accomplishments, and understanding. He was more than a friend to me."
Kane tried a smile. "I know what you mean. My son, Jonell, he means the world to me. And I hope I can be as adept a father and teacher as you tried to be for Hagen. I know for certain that he appreciated everything you did for him."
"I am sure your son will have a good father in you," Roj Kell answered and rose again, declining the steadying hand offered by Kane. Facing the taller man, he could see a future in Kane Jinn's eyes. One of so many. "I wish you all the best for your journey," he said. "The Force is with you."
And that had been the last time he had seen Kane Jinn. He had avoided the Jedi from then on, but had kept himself informed on the Order's progress. Almost he had fallen prey to them again, when he had met the Jedi Master Yoda. That one was dangerous, immensely dangerous, and his knowledge of Kell's presence had forced the ancient Sith into exile for the past centuries. He had travelled through the unknown regions and beyond the galaxy, seeking new insights and finding the remains of old mistakes. Unfortunately those always had a habit of reflecting back on the initiator. It needed someone with wisdom and strength to counter the backlash they would create, and Darth Sidious was that one. He had all the assets, the will, determination and power he needed to succeed.
But nothing was certain yet. Only time would tell whether the Sith would truly rise again. There was one Jedi he had deemed to take Hagen Dycos' place, though, and Qui-Gon Jinn was just as thoughtful as his ancestor's mentor. He would help the Sith Order to reclaim its glory. That was for sure. No need to tell Sidious, of course. Let him figure things out for himself.
The Mali Royal Plaza was beautiful, with a colorful mosaic covering the barren earth and the dried-out fountain in the center of the plaza. Situated in the Mali Royal Quarter the plaza had once been among the most popular sights of the city, but decades of tyranny and neglect had turned the formerly elegant quarter into a dwelling place for the poor, and crime was high, the highest of the city. The Tyrant had declared the quarter off limits two years ago, and the security forces did not even bother with conducting investigations there these days, except for the weekly roundup of the usual suspects.
Today the dust-covered plaza with its dry fountain and broken mosaic served as common shelter for the very poor, the homeless, that weren't bothered by even the meanest among the Mali's denizens, though from time to time unwary thugs would try to vent their frustration and anger on one or more of the helpless beggars. Those unfortunate rogues would soon learn that no one messed with the homeless, at least no one not caught in suicidal fantasies.
It had started four years ago, always very discreet, and no one dared ask questions, fearing that the 'helpless' beggars might hide more than one wanted to know. As it was, those were fairly ignorant of the random protection they received.
Their benefactor had every reason to want to remain unknown, too. Yet he had no desire to make himself a self-styled avenging angel of these down-trodden people that would not have had much more chances under the late king, who had been replaced by the Tyrant thirty years ago. They were predestined to scour the bottom of society for anything that might come their way. Not one of them was innocent, not one of them worth a tynori. And yet they offered protection in turn, and no questions asked. That was why he sometimes took their side, to discourage anyone from bothering his shelter.
Former Jedi Master Alamys Jorka was huddled in his corner, his back carefully propped against the rough wall of the fountain basin, his wrists crossed over his knees. He was tired, unable to sleep for fear of being detected, and tormented by constant thirst that was impossible to quench. He knew that to be the effect of the virus, but he had managed to hold off a few other symptoms, banning the darkness into his heart, so it had only a minimal effect on his mind. He did not use the Force these days, knowing that it would be his undoing, would accelerate the virus' effects. That he could remember, even though his memory was beginning to desert him again.
There is no emotion – There is peace. There is no ignorance – There is knowledge. There is no passion – There is serenity. There is no death – There is the Force.
The words of the Jedi Code had helped him immensely, constituing an anchor for his mind that had been lost for a while on a sea of confusion and suspicion. Yet Alamys had learned to cope with the paranoia, the loss of his memory, even the fact that his bones had grown so fragile that they would shatter like glass if he was not careful. That was one of the reasons why he was constantly on the run. He did not want to risk a confrontation, with anyone. And yet, there was still nothing awaiting him in the future. There was no cure to the illness safe one, and he would rather be dead than lose what little he had left of the Force. Though he was unable to touch it, had forbidden himself to reach for it, he held that precious warmth close to his heart.
Hanging his head, Alamys Jorka heaved a deep sigh. He had settled down on Malika four years ago, to get some rest, to plan for the future. But there was none, he knew.
The sad assembly of human waste that clogged the back-alleys of Mali City's most disreputable quarter would normally not even have registered with Darth Sidious, but there was something elusive that was familiar, somehow, like a long-forgotten scent. He stopped, tasting the air, savoring the different strands of life this miserable section of the city had to offer. There. Frowning, he squinted at one of the figures huddling in the shadows of a dried-out fountain on what had once been a grand plaza. This one was dressed in ragged brown robes, a hood drawn into its face. The hands, wrists crossed over his knees, named him human. Long, slender hands, calloused and wrinkled. The Sith Lord stepped a bit closer, then carefully touched the man's knee with his right shin.
"You," he commanded in a low voice laced with dark power. "Show me your face."
Leaning his head back, the man looked up at him out of calm blue eyes, and Sidious recognized him instantly, despite the lines time and illness had drawn across the Jedi Master's hard features and the shaggy beard that covered the lower half of his face. The broad scar – a remainder of their last encounter – had faded into a stark white streak.
"You!" the Sith Lord hissed, tensing immediately, bracing for an attack. "I thought you were dead!"
Alamys Jorka rose elegantly, his movements careful and economic, and he managed to loom over Sidious like a king, despite his tattered appearance. The smile he wore on his lips was disconcerting, and highly suspicious. "Yes, me. I am not dead yet. But now I fear I will have to kill you."
After a moment of disbelieving surprise, Sidious barked a short laugh. "Kill me? Pathetic, Alamys, pathetic. Don't you remember the last time you tried that? You were lucky then, but not today."
"We shall see," the Jedi Master replied hoarsely, lowering his head ever so slightly.
Sidious shrugged. He would seize the opportunity and finish Master Jorka once and for all. Hadn't his mentor taught him to always take his chances? He smiled coldly. This was his chance, and he was prepared to use it. With determination, he flung both hands out to throw a barrage of sizzling lightning at the Jedi. But the electricity vanished harmlessly, as if being sucked up by a black hole. Sidious stared, frowned, then renewed his efforts. His eyes nearly bulged when he caught a feel of the power Jorka had amassed to shield himself. It was immense!
Too late the Sith Lord remembered that dangerous side effect of the Motha Virus, that multiplied the victim's affinity to the Force by a hundredfold, or more, of his original strength. And Alamys Jorka had been fairly powerful to begin wth. With a strangled gasp, Sidious ceased the attack, standing at the edge of the plaza, undecided. Alamys Jorka seemed to be wrapped in a black cloak of shadows, that left him standing in a bluish glow of dark power. It fought to break free, but the Jedi Master held it close, the effort he had to mount to keep control plain in his eyes. Then Sidious noticed something, like a pulsing black heart that was barely visible against Jorka's body. His brows climbed almost up to his hairline. This was impossible!
Luckily his body had a different opinion and threw him sideways, before a blast of black fire melted the mosaic floor where he had been standing a moment earlier. The beggars and homeless which had been huddling against the safety of the fountain previously, scrambled in a flurry of arms and legs, as each fought the other to get away faster. Their frightened screams filled the air, and their fear brought more power to the Sith Lord. Before he could reach for it, though, it seemed to vanish, sucked into the dark vortex that surrounded the Jedi Master. Alamys Jorka held one hand out toward his adversary, palm facing outward, and a paralysing cold seemed to reach through the Sith's clothes, latching onto his skin, seeping into his body, leeching him of warmth and power.
Horrified, Sidious realized that this man was more than a match for him, that he was way out of his league. And yet, as he dodged another blast of fire, he also realized that the Jedi Master's desperate try to finally get rid of his hunter would cost him dearly in the end. Zulkur Arden had tried to combat the virus with the help of the dark side and had grown immensely strong in the Force. But in the end he had not been able to heal himself, let alone survive. He had only become more vulnerable. The same weakness would fell Alamys Jorka, and then he would have him. That was, if the Jedi Master did not kill him before that.
Keeping the rage under control was almost rendering him unconscious, yet Alamys fought on, determined to end this chase once and for all. He was sick of always running, always hiding, and he knew for certain that Darth Sidious would not be able to withstand his power, not anymore. It called to him, tried to goad him on, and he longed for that release, longed for that blissful fire of oblivion. Still, as he had for the past years, Alamys Jorka kept a stern gaze inward, combating emotion with reason as he had for so long, to keep the illness' effects at bay. His heart was boiling with hatred and anger and fear, hatred for the Sith who had done this to him, anger at his irreversible fate and fear of ceasing to be, of losing what little was left of his life.
He lowered his hand, breaking contact to Sidious, and the Sith took a staggering step toward him. His face was covered with sweat and his blue eyes were blinking rapdily, as if he was not entirely sure what was happening. Regarding the Sith dispassionately, keeping his emotions shielded within himself, Alamys assessed his situation coldly. He could feel that the previous outlet of power on his part had already taken its toll on his system. He was shaking inside, and soon he would be too weak from the struggle to continue. And yet, there he was, right in front of him, his adversary, his tormentor. Seeing his hesitation, Sidious quirked a sly smile.
"Is it that time already?" he asked, his voice mean and low. "Will the great Jedi Master finally succumb to darkness? You swore that you never would, remember? But in the end no one can escape the Dark Side."
It would be so glorious to end the taunting, to silence the sweet lure of that dark power, to find peace again at last ... Alamys sighed deeply, then nodded. "You are right, Sidious. You cannot escape me. You know it."
Gathering his power again, feeling it rise like a black tower of writhing shadows at his back, Alamys Jorka let it flow through his body, his heart, and into his hated nemesis. The force of the blue lightning that crossed the plaza in an instant shattered the wall of one of the adjacent buildings, and it collapsed in a cloud of dust and rubble. But Sidious had managed to leap away in the last possible moment. Methodically, Alamys swept the entire plaza with lightning, not caring for the screams of the unfortunate beggars that had failed to leave this battle-field in time. The stench of charred flesh hung sweet in the air, and yet the Sith always managed to get away, jumping, back-flipping, rolling and diving with an agility Alamys never would have suspected Sidious to possess at all.
Suddenly something flashed behind his eyes, snapping with greedy teeth, straining to break into his mind. Alamys started violently, and his attack ceased. He had almost gone too far! Gasping for air, the Jedi Master shook his head to get rid of the dizzyness that took hold of him then. Yet he was still the center of sizzling power, a fact that undoubtedly prevented the Sith Lord from attacking in turn. Instead, Sidious was watching him curiously, poised for flight. Then, with a barely perceptible shrug, he straightened, and smiled again.
"Most impressive, Master Jorka," he told Alamys respectfully. "But I fear I will have to leave you now. Don't worry, though, I will be back."
And then he simply turned around and walked away, while Alamys futilely tried to summon enough concentration to deliver a final, hopefully killing, blow. Nothing happened. When his legs refused to support him any longer Alamys collapsed, his knees hitting the mosaic floor hard, sending a jolt of pain through his body that woke him to reality again. He was hurting all over, his left thigh and shin had broken upon the impact, and his knee caps also felt as if they had received a fissure or something like it. He uttered a low groan, scolding himself for his stupidity. Now he knew why Sidious had been so triumphant there in the end. Alamys was on the best way of knocking himself out, of becoming easy prey for the Sith Lord to collect in due time.
He had to get away, away from Malika, someplace where Sidious would not suspect him. With difficulty he managed to rip the fabric of his left pant leg open, then deftly used it to fashion a very primitive splint for his leg. It would not help much, he knew, but it had to be enough for now. Until he could find help. He balked at that. Who could he trust? He had not trusted anyone in the past years, always careful not to leave traces for his nemesis. And what had it brought him? To be found by accident, here of all places! Alamys barked a mirthless laugh. Things were never easy.
TBC
Hey, thanks for keeping your faith in this story. I really, really appreciate it!