A/N: Hello! Chapter six is finally here, with potential romance ahead!
Also, Quinya is pronounced (Keen-Ya) not (Kwin-Ya). Now that we've got THAT
cleared up, enjoy!
Thanks everybody for your reviews! Be sure to join FF.net so I can read YOUR work, too!
Chapter six
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next few nights she came to visit him faithfully; each restless dark bringing with her the gentle, almost river-like air. They never spoke, for she knew that by now that he was hardly able to even move (no matter how hard he tried to disprove this theory) and suffered almost constantly from the pyrexia caused by his near-severed leg. Anamaria marveled at his unbreakable will; that strange force that kept him alive through conditions she herself would have succumbed to long ago. Each night, she left her rooms in secret, crept unnoticed through the shadows, risking her very life just to be with him. To comfort without even knowing it herself. Every time she would find him in the same position as the last, his body continuing to fight a furious battle it would eventually lose. However, when she sat beside him, the tension released, and he slept feverishly until she left again.
'Why?' Anamaria wondered while staring at her ceiling, 'Why do I feel pity for this Sith, who murdered a fellow Jedi? Why does my heart twist whenever I see him?' She turned onto her side, pulling the warm covers up to her chin. Despite this, she still shivered.
'Because, no matter how evil they are, a mortal is still a mortal. No one, not even a mass killer, deserves to die alone.' Her mind finally responded to the question above. Anamaria sighed softly. Suddenly, a provoking thought etched itself into her brain.
'Do I... care for him?'
%%%%%
"Poor, poor, weak little Sith..." Raphael chided with a sardonic grin splitting his face, "It hasn't the strength to even make a snide remark anymore." That retched smile grew wider, and he backhanded Darth Maul to his bloodied knees.
The Prince of Gattaca began to pace.
"What a venomous shame, though..." He hissed, "If you'd had the intellect to understand, then you would be groveling quite righteously at my feet now." Another slap, "I have plans far greater than one man could ever comprehend, and YOU are the soul of it," He smirked, "For whatever soul you have left..."
The Khajiit laughed softly around him. "You see..." Raphael continued, still pacing, "I wanted your passionate lord because he was the only defect in my master plan... My plan to unhinge the republic, and bring Gattaca to power!" He backhanded Maul harder than ever.
"Oh... and," He forcefully lifted the Sith's jaw to meet his gaze, "Just because of your defilement towards my humble hospitality, that whore you've been seeing will be the first to go..." And he bared his teeth in an even more menacing gesture of evil.
The dark knight, faltered by this new information, allowed his xanthus eyes to widen double their normal size, and horrid images ran through his fading mind. This was just the kind of leverage Raphael needed.
"Ah... yes... here she comes now...." He allowed a lustful smile to play his lips, and turned to Gantu, "Set out the wards, and unlock his manacles..." Quietly he leaned in to the khajiit's ear, "when you're done, meet me back in the throne room..."
The prince watched his guard unlock the great amount of restraints adorning his prisoner's body, then exited grandly from the cell to determine matters far more important than this. Gantu followed him soon after.
Maul sat there quietly for a moment, his celebrated eyes closed over black lids, and savored the feeling of a considerably lightened body. The whelp would be down here soon. He turned his head slightly towards the door from which he had entered Hell almost three weeks ago, and felt his stomach tighten. Whether this was from the nausea of sickness, or anxiety he did not know, but thinking about the padawan being ripped to shreds by those vicious wards only made it worse.
'Damn this...' He thought, 'Damn them all to Hell...'
The Sith resumed his slumped position, and went over every option he had; this being narrowed down to two:
One: He could attempt to escape, and resume his heartless disposition of allowing the only living organism to ever show him compassion be torn to little pieces by some mutant cats. Two: He could let HER escape, and resume a disposition of a hero who was torn to little pieces by some mutant cats. Either way, he was probably going to die. If he escaped, where would he go? Steal a ship?
Hell no.
He could hardly stay awake as it was, let alone drive a whole F-ing transport. If he saved the whelp, though, she might be merciful enough to dump him in space like a sack of garbage, and let him suffocate there. Dammit! She was the whole brunt of this! Why didn't he just let her die?!
'Because you care for her.'
'WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP?!'
'If you would listen to me more often, then maybe I would.'
'I do not, nor ever will care for a Jedi.'
'But she's not a Jedi.'
'DAMMIT, SHE HANGS OUT WITH THEM ENOUGH!!!'
'If she were a part of this conversation she would tell you to be quiet, and save your voice.'
'And monkeys are flying out of my ass.'
'I can arrange that.'
'And if you do, then I will be forced to rip off whatever subconscious head you have, and shove it up YOUR ass.'
'Just go save her.'
'A bit blunt now, aren't we?'
'Blunt as a monkey flying out of your ass.'
'....'
'What do you have to lose?'
Maul sighed quietly. What DID he have to lose? His reputation? That had flushed down the potty a LONG time ago, and he had to admit that the whelp did catch a facet of his mind that he had long since forgotten.
Gathering up what remnants of strength he had left, the Sith forced himself onto wavering feet, and clutched the wall for some much-needed support. The whelp would be saved; whether it be at the cost of other's lives, or his own.
%%%%%
Anamaria's gentle footfalls reverberated with every step she took, making it seem as though there were others walking with her. Shadows danced in a ballet of darkened fear across the addle walls, causing things that were not meant to be frightening to scare her nearly out of her wits. The young padawan rounded a corner gracefully, from which there were supposed to be several cages, each housing a strange catlike beast. Raphael had showed her these creatures on their tour of the castle. They were quite large animals, about the size of a small horse, each sporting spots, stripes, and the like. Their bodies were wide, and their jaws were unevenly placed, filled with thousands upon thousands of needle sharp fangs. Their claws tapped restlessly as they paced hungrily in their cells, and it was here Anamria stopped to listen for these sounds.
Tap, tap, tap... hiss...
Convinced, she passed the rows of dark cages, and entered the next hall. However, in her haste, the padawan had not observed the fact that each cage was completely empty.
Nor the scarlet eyes watching her from the rafters.
She continued on, humming a soft tune, her chalky hair whistling close behind her, still ever-the-more oblivious of the fleet-footed paws ascending the resist straight above her head. And also, the claws which accompanied it like a cello to the violin, each quietly rapping against the metallic bracers adorning the high ceiling.
In fact, it was not until she felt a warm, wet substance drip onto her shoulder that her blunt sense of danger finally started to kick in. She touched the oozing stuff with a bit of disgust, for it had the consistency of watery porridge, and screwed her face up nastily.
Huff....
She froze.
Huff...
Hot air played against the back of her nape, and the wispy hairs there stood on end. Anamaria stayed perfectly still, even as the thing's nose pressed against her skin like a subzero iron, burning into her flesh, for she knew that however powerful a ward may be, it was equally poor in sight.
The accursed sentinels of Gattaca's castle growled angrily, and hissed all around her, confused as to why their prey had suddenly faded from their minuscule vision. Anamria gulped back the panic quickly rising from her toes, and breathed deep but quiet breaths. Her lightsaber, of all places, was back in her quarters (and just when she needed it the most).
CRASH!!!
The ward's gag grazed lightly against her skin as it whirled around to investigate the strange noise, deep growls reverberating from its belly. The padawan closed her eyes in deep relief, the panic she had felt earlier surging out through her sweat glands. A pair of haunting yellow eyes glowed in the shadows, beckoning her in that respect, and she sprinted there without question.
Wasting no time for inquiries, the Sith grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into a dank chute, most likely used at one point for time-saving trips from one end of the castle to the other. From his judgement, they would have about five minutes to get to his 'safe zone' before the damned cats found them, and at his pace of speed, they would make it there in about one- million years.
Oh no...
A fork. Three paths led into total darkness, ending only god-knew- where. Maul struggled to remember which one he had come through, but his mind drew a complete blank. He let go of his companion's wrist, and began to pace, cradling his terrible face in his hands. Anamaria watched him, knowing quite well what kind of predicament they had gotten into. However, she was insanely curious as to how he had gotten out of his captor's hands in the first place. Wasn't he dying the last time she saw him?
"Si- I mean, Darth Maul..."
"Shut up, whelp... I'm trying to think..." He snapped angrily.
Anamaria let a snort of frustration, and leaned heavily against the wall. "Okay, fine. Take as much time as you want. I mean, it's not like we're being chased by some rabid ocelots are we?" She replied sarcastically; but from the hall, there came a terrific shriek, then the grumose hammer of three oversized housecats tracking their scents. Maul sucked in a quick breath, and grabbed her wrist again, pulling her down the far left tunnel.
They ran for a moment, down into the stinking deep of the castle where a putrid stench clogged the young padawan's nose. She gagged heavily, feeling bile rise into her throat, and quickly covered her tear-stained face with a shirt sleeve.
"By God, what IS that?!" She muttered loudly. Darth Maul stared up at the ceiling, then at the walls, whirling in each direction as if he was sensing a disturbance, but not seeing it.
"Something's wrong..." He whispered, "This isn't right..."
The coarse fear in his striking voice was enough to make her completely silent. She barely dared to breathe underneath her sleeve for fear that either the tension would break, or a ward would come pouncing out of the shadows. Anamaria watched as he continued to wildly avert his haunted gaze to each wall; each stone, his feet taking him to their own destination. He backed further away, his gaze forward, but his gait backward.
Snap
It was the most disgusting sound she had ever heard. The Sith whirled around, hearing the revolting crack as well. He looked down at the ground, then stared dumbly at it for nearly half a minute before he had realized what had happened. No, much to what you, the reader, may be thinking right now, it was not HIS leg, but another's.
His knees buckled slightly, as if burdened by some new weight, and he stumbled backward against the wall, his famed eyes wide in shock, and his face shining ethereally with sweat. Anamaria looked first to him, and then to the place he had been standing just a moment ago. To frighten a Sith, it must have been terrifying.
She held out her hands, softly chanting "Appredicar te nova" and white light burst from her fingertips. It took her a moment for her eyes to become exploited against the bright luminosity, but what she saw when they did made the very essence of her life-giving blood run cold. It seemed as though every fiber of time had come to a complete stop, just to mock her in an evanescent experience.
Oh yes, they had most definitely gone the wrong way. Most definitely, indeed; for instead of running into the main archways, they had run straight into a dumping ground.
Filled to its tip with rotting corpses.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Review.
Thanks everybody for your reviews! Be sure to join FF.net so I can read YOUR work, too!
Chapter six
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next few nights she came to visit him faithfully; each restless dark bringing with her the gentle, almost river-like air. They never spoke, for she knew that by now that he was hardly able to even move (no matter how hard he tried to disprove this theory) and suffered almost constantly from the pyrexia caused by his near-severed leg. Anamaria marveled at his unbreakable will; that strange force that kept him alive through conditions she herself would have succumbed to long ago. Each night, she left her rooms in secret, crept unnoticed through the shadows, risking her very life just to be with him. To comfort without even knowing it herself. Every time she would find him in the same position as the last, his body continuing to fight a furious battle it would eventually lose. However, when she sat beside him, the tension released, and he slept feverishly until she left again.
'Why?' Anamaria wondered while staring at her ceiling, 'Why do I feel pity for this Sith, who murdered a fellow Jedi? Why does my heart twist whenever I see him?' She turned onto her side, pulling the warm covers up to her chin. Despite this, she still shivered.
'Because, no matter how evil they are, a mortal is still a mortal. No one, not even a mass killer, deserves to die alone.' Her mind finally responded to the question above. Anamaria sighed softly. Suddenly, a provoking thought etched itself into her brain.
'Do I... care for him?'
%%%%%
"Poor, poor, weak little Sith..." Raphael chided with a sardonic grin splitting his face, "It hasn't the strength to even make a snide remark anymore." That retched smile grew wider, and he backhanded Darth Maul to his bloodied knees.
The Prince of Gattaca began to pace.
"What a venomous shame, though..." He hissed, "If you'd had the intellect to understand, then you would be groveling quite righteously at my feet now." Another slap, "I have plans far greater than one man could ever comprehend, and YOU are the soul of it," He smirked, "For whatever soul you have left..."
The Khajiit laughed softly around him. "You see..." Raphael continued, still pacing, "I wanted your passionate lord because he was the only defect in my master plan... My plan to unhinge the republic, and bring Gattaca to power!" He backhanded Maul harder than ever.
"Oh... and," He forcefully lifted the Sith's jaw to meet his gaze, "Just because of your defilement towards my humble hospitality, that whore you've been seeing will be the first to go..." And he bared his teeth in an even more menacing gesture of evil.
The dark knight, faltered by this new information, allowed his xanthus eyes to widen double their normal size, and horrid images ran through his fading mind. This was just the kind of leverage Raphael needed.
"Ah... yes... here she comes now...." He allowed a lustful smile to play his lips, and turned to Gantu, "Set out the wards, and unlock his manacles..." Quietly he leaned in to the khajiit's ear, "when you're done, meet me back in the throne room..."
The prince watched his guard unlock the great amount of restraints adorning his prisoner's body, then exited grandly from the cell to determine matters far more important than this. Gantu followed him soon after.
Maul sat there quietly for a moment, his celebrated eyes closed over black lids, and savored the feeling of a considerably lightened body. The whelp would be down here soon. He turned his head slightly towards the door from which he had entered Hell almost three weeks ago, and felt his stomach tighten. Whether this was from the nausea of sickness, or anxiety he did not know, but thinking about the padawan being ripped to shreds by those vicious wards only made it worse.
'Damn this...' He thought, 'Damn them all to Hell...'
The Sith resumed his slumped position, and went over every option he had; this being narrowed down to two:
One: He could attempt to escape, and resume his heartless disposition of allowing the only living organism to ever show him compassion be torn to little pieces by some mutant cats. Two: He could let HER escape, and resume a disposition of a hero who was torn to little pieces by some mutant cats. Either way, he was probably going to die. If he escaped, where would he go? Steal a ship?
Hell no.
He could hardly stay awake as it was, let alone drive a whole F-ing transport. If he saved the whelp, though, she might be merciful enough to dump him in space like a sack of garbage, and let him suffocate there. Dammit! She was the whole brunt of this! Why didn't he just let her die?!
'Because you care for her.'
'WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP?!'
'If you would listen to me more often, then maybe I would.'
'I do not, nor ever will care for a Jedi.'
'But she's not a Jedi.'
'DAMMIT, SHE HANGS OUT WITH THEM ENOUGH!!!'
'If she were a part of this conversation she would tell you to be quiet, and save your voice.'
'And monkeys are flying out of my ass.'
'I can arrange that.'
'And if you do, then I will be forced to rip off whatever subconscious head you have, and shove it up YOUR ass.'
'Just go save her.'
'A bit blunt now, aren't we?'
'Blunt as a monkey flying out of your ass.'
'....'
'What do you have to lose?'
Maul sighed quietly. What DID he have to lose? His reputation? That had flushed down the potty a LONG time ago, and he had to admit that the whelp did catch a facet of his mind that he had long since forgotten.
Gathering up what remnants of strength he had left, the Sith forced himself onto wavering feet, and clutched the wall for some much-needed support. The whelp would be saved; whether it be at the cost of other's lives, or his own.
%%%%%
Anamaria's gentle footfalls reverberated with every step she took, making it seem as though there were others walking with her. Shadows danced in a ballet of darkened fear across the addle walls, causing things that were not meant to be frightening to scare her nearly out of her wits. The young padawan rounded a corner gracefully, from which there were supposed to be several cages, each housing a strange catlike beast. Raphael had showed her these creatures on their tour of the castle. They were quite large animals, about the size of a small horse, each sporting spots, stripes, and the like. Their bodies were wide, and their jaws were unevenly placed, filled with thousands upon thousands of needle sharp fangs. Their claws tapped restlessly as they paced hungrily in their cells, and it was here Anamria stopped to listen for these sounds.
Tap, tap, tap... hiss...
Convinced, she passed the rows of dark cages, and entered the next hall. However, in her haste, the padawan had not observed the fact that each cage was completely empty.
Nor the scarlet eyes watching her from the rafters.
She continued on, humming a soft tune, her chalky hair whistling close behind her, still ever-the-more oblivious of the fleet-footed paws ascending the resist straight above her head. And also, the claws which accompanied it like a cello to the violin, each quietly rapping against the metallic bracers adorning the high ceiling.
In fact, it was not until she felt a warm, wet substance drip onto her shoulder that her blunt sense of danger finally started to kick in. She touched the oozing stuff with a bit of disgust, for it had the consistency of watery porridge, and screwed her face up nastily.
Huff....
She froze.
Huff...
Hot air played against the back of her nape, and the wispy hairs there stood on end. Anamaria stayed perfectly still, even as the thing's nose pressed against her skin like a subzero iron, burning into her flesh, for she knew that however powerful a ward may be, it was equally poor in sight.
The accursed sentinels of Gattaca's castle growled angrily, and hissed all around her, confused as to why their prey had suddenly faded from their minuscule vision. Anamria gulped back the panic quickly rising from her toes, and breathed deep but quiet breaths. Her lightsaber, of all places, was back in her quarters (and just when she needed it the most).
CRASH!!!
The ward's gag grazed lightly against her skin as it whirled around to investigate the strange noise, deep growls reverberating from its belly. The padawan closed her eyes in deep relief, the panic she had felt earlier surging out through her sweat glands. A pair of haunting yellow eyes glowed in the shadows, beckoning her in that respect, and she sprinted there without question.
Wasting no time for inquiries, the Sith grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into a dank chute, most likely used at one point for time-saving trips from one end of the castle to the other. From his judgement, they would have about five minutes to get to his 'safe zone' before the damned cats found them, and at his pace of speed, they would make it there in about one- million years.
Oh no...
A fork. Three paths led into total darkness, ending only god-knew- where. Maul struggled to remember which one he had come through, but his mind drew a complete blank. He let go of his companion's wrist, and began to pace, cradling his terrible face in his hands. Anamaria watched him, knowing quite well what kind of predicament they had gotten into. However, she was insanely curious as to how he had gotten out of his captor's hands in the first place. Wasn't he dying the last time she saw him?
"Si- I mean, Darth Maul..."
"Shut up, whelp... I'm trying to think..." He snapped angrily.
Anamaria let a snort of frustration, and leaned heavily against the wall. "Okay, fine. Take as much time as you want. I mean, it's not like we're being chased by some rabid ocelots are we?" She replied sarcastically; but from the hall, there came a terrific shriek, then the grumose hammer of three oversized housecats tracking their scents. Maul sucked in a quick breath, and grabbed her wrist again, pulling her down the far left tunnel.
They ran for a moment, down into the stinking deep of the castle where a putrid stench clogged the young padawan's nose. She gagged heavily, feeling bile rise into her throat, and quickly covered her tear-stained face with a shirt sleeve.
"By God, what IS that?!" She muttered loudly. Darth Maul stared up at the ceiling, then at the walls, whirling in each direction as if he was sensing a disturbance, but not seeing it.
"Something's wrong..." He whispered, "This isn't right..."
The coarse fear in his striking voice was enough to make her completely silent. She barely dared to breathe underneath her sleeve for fear that either the tension would break, or a ward would come pouncing out of the shadows. Anamaria watched as he continued to wildly avert his haunted gaze to each wall; each stone, his feet taking him to their own destination. He backed further away, his gaze forward, but his gait backward.
Snap
It was the most disgusting sound she had ever heard. The Sith whirled around, hearing the revolting crack as well. He looked down at the ground, then stared dumbly at it for nearly half a minute before he had realized what had happened. No, much to what you, the reader, may be thinking right now, it was not HIS leg, but another's.
His knees buckled slightly, as if burdened by some new weight, and he stumbled backward against the wall, his famed eyes wide in shock, and his face shining ethereally with sweat. Anamaria looked first to him, and then to the place he had been standing just a moment ago. To frighten a Sith, it must have been terrifying.
She held out her hands, softly chanting "Appredicar te nova" and white light burst from her fingertips. It took her a moment for her eyes to become exploited against the bright luminosity, but what she saw when they did made the very essence of her life-giving blood run cold. It seemed as though every fiber of time had come to a complete stop, just to mock her in an evanescent experience.
Oh yes, they had most definitely gone the wrong way. Most definitely, indeed; for instead of running into the main archways, they had run straight into a dumping ground.
Filled to its tip with rotting corpses.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Review.