Chapter Four: The Jedi Temple

The trek to the Temple was long, arduous, and above all, frigid. Nestled deep within the mountains, the ancient stronghold of the Mathassar Jedi was hidden from the eyes of sentient and beast, a silent and forgotten testimony to the power of the old Order. The party pressed through the snow-slicked trails, grit their chattering teeth against the icy winds that slashed through their cloaks, and endured the punishing climate. Many times they feared that they would freeze to their deaths when twilight settled and night shrouded the white-capped mountains under its grayish shadow.

Ran saw the grim set to the jaws of his friends, knew that their resolve had begun to waver in the shivering cold. As was his wont, he took the initiative and settled himself to raise a few hackles—and hopefully some spirits in the process.

They made camp beneath a mountain ledge, the only shelter from the blowing snows. Night had fallen and their cold-weather survival gear was a poor substitute for a campfire. But no matter how hard they tried, their portable heater simply was not sufficient to breathe life into their numbing hands. De-Lanna huddled closest to the heater; having lived most of her life in the temperate climes of Yavin Four, she was unused to the drop in temperature. Ran made her his first target.

He sidled next to her, very close, and threw his cloak around them both. She practically leaped to her feet in surprise, but he just wrapped a strong arm around her and held her down. He saw Ascera shake her head at his antics, and the mercenaries just smirked at the prospect of coming entertainment.

"Come on," Ran whispered in low tones to De-Lanna. "What's the matter? You're cold, I'm cold, the heater is a piece of junk. We got to keep warm somehow."

"And you propose to do this by snuggling next to me?" she bit back in a louder, nastier voice. "I don't think so." She tried to stand up again, but he was stronger and just kept her pinned down. "Let go."

"Hey, it's not a bad idea," he argued.

"You're attempts to seduce me are juvenile and amateurish," she countered acidly. "Now let go, you scruffy monkey-lizard."

Ran heard Carson snicker. "Remember that kiss in the cargo hold?" the green-eyed Jedi reminded her with a broad grin. She blushed a bright red. "Yeah, I think you were totally getting into it. That slap was just protocol and stuff."

A large snowball, fashioned from the Force and hurled by the same, hit Ran in the back of the head, pitching him forward. Uproarious laughter echoed in the camp, even from Ascera. De-Lanna stood and walked off in a huff, her anger so hot that she no longer felt the chill. Ran just smiles, lying on his side and watching her leave. He turned conspiratorially to his companions. "Oh yeah, I think she likes me."

The party did not die a frigid, unheralded death and a week's journey later, they stood before the majestic Temple. The towering structure was crumbling along its battlements, snow heavily laden on its eaves and overhangs, but its austere, natural beauty was apparent in the simplicity of its design. It was indeed a great relic of the past, hearkening to a simpler, humbler age.

But apart from its brilliance, the Temple radiated the serenity of the light side of the Force. Ran and his fellow Jedi were at peace here, standing amongst the quiet spirits of the old Jedi Order, of the open-minded, artistic Mathassar who had studied the old ways. Compassion and understanding, peace and justice, serenity and knowledge filled the air, the snow, even the cold stone of the Temple; Ran felt that he was home.

Ran saw Ascera wipe a tear from her eye, knowing well the awe that must fill her being so close to the spirits of the Jedi she so admired. De-Lanna, proud and aloof as she was, could not find her breath. Even Carson and Borworken were taken by the Temple's magnificence.

"All right people, let's get this over with," the green-eyed Jedi announced, adjusting his utility belt and striding boldly forward.

Carson and Borworken followed close behind, blasters up and ready—just in case. Ascera and De-Lanna made to move as well, but stopped suddenly. A moment later, Ran felt what had alerted them: a poisonous, tainted aura, chaos sliding amidst the serenity of this holy ground, like oil over water. "Dark Jedi," he murmured, drawing his lightsaber, but not igniting it. He moved to the west side of the Temple, following the dark aura.

"Ascera, Carson, Borworken—head into the Temple and secure it," he ordered, taking the lead. "De-Lanna and I will handle this. We're the fighters of this group, and against dark Jedi, blasters will be useless." The Twi'lek nodded her agreement and began marshalling the mercenaries into the Temple proper. Ran and De-Lanna made their way toward their foes.

"You better not do something foolish," the brown-haired Jedi said tonelessly.

"Like what?" Ran asked innocently.

"Like making a pass at me or some other juvenile foolery."

He only smiled in response. The roguish grin faded quickly when they came upon the cemetery on the west side of the Temple. The light side was strongest there, and both Jedi could feel it, strengthening their bodies and resolve. But the darkness they perceived haunted it like a grim, cloying film. Amidst the snow-covered headstones of Jedi Masters who became one with the Force long, long ago, stood a lone warrior, clad in black. Covering the mysterious figure's face was a mask of jade, etched with archaic runes that sent shivers down Ran's spine, so frightening were the inscriptions.

The dark warrior turned to face them, a long-handled lightsaber in hand. "I thought I sensed the presence of new victims," the warrior intoned in a gravelly, male voice. "My master claimed this place devoid of Jedi. It seems he is not, as he wishes to believe, infallible." A blazing red blade extended from the hilt. He spun the wicked weapon in a graceful, menacing arc before settling into an offensive stance, the lightsaber grasped in both hands above his head. "No words, Jedi," he hissed. "On this ground, you have the advantage, but do not underestimate the power of the dark side! This Sith warrior will crush you. Come, show me the vaunted strength of the light side of the Force, and die at my feet!"

Ran tried to suppress his surprise. Sith? he wondered. But Master Skywalker fought the last of them, watched Palpatine die! But the thought was fleeting, a mere moment in the continuity of the living Force. The dark warrior, the embodiment of the ancient ways, when Sith and Jedi fought across the galaxy, advanced with lightning speed. Ran ignited his lightsaber, basking in its bright blue blaze, and blocked the warrior's ferocious, powerful attack; the green-eyed Jedi gasped, feeling his arms go numb for an instant. He fell back against the Sith's mighty blows, dodging and parrying as best he could.

De-Lanna leaped into the fray with a great yell, her own white blade almost invisible against the snow. But the dark warrior brought his blood-red weapon back around, stopping the white, blazing edge effortlessly. The Jedi traded blows with the Sith warrior for what seemed like eternity, neither side gaining a foothold or a tactical advantage. So powerful, Ran thought with no small amount of admiration, He fights us where the light side is strong, and yet can fight two of us to a standstill! Ran's respect for the dark side increased manifold as the battle with the mysterious warrior progressed.

"Who are you?" De-Lanna asked suddenly, breaking into the rhythm of battle. "Why did you come here? These grounds hold no place for you, dark Jedi!" Ran had the feeling that she did not believe in the warrior's claims to the Sith, and with good reason. The Sith were dead. But Ran could not deny his power.

"My motives are my own, Jedi," the warrior snarled. Suddenly, his foot snaked out with impossible speed and godlike precision, striking De-Lanna in the throat. He followed his fierce attack with a telekinetic punch from his open hand, sending the brown-haired Jedi into the air. Her back struck a tall headstone, and she crumpled at its base. Her lightsaber landed by her hand, its blade extinguished.

"De-Lanna!" Ran cried out, but his exclamation was quickly silenced when the dark warrior's empty fist crashed into his face. He felt blood pool into his mouth, and its salty taste made him retch. He fell back, just barely regaining his senses enough to block the oncoming onslaught of lightsaber slashes. Ran edged backward, sacrificing more and more ground to his fearless, unrelenting opponent. "I can't lose," he muttered to himself, a mantra against the pain. "I can't lose! I can't lose!" But still he fell back.

Frustration welled in him, turning into anger. "I need strength," he whispered, "just enough to push him back and regain my footing." But the dark warrior was relentless, raining blow upon blow against him, giving no quarter. Something inside Ran snapped and he pushed forward with a cry of rage. "I can't lose!" he screamed, pushing away the red blade and drawing his own lightsaber in a vicious backstroke. The blue edge slashed across the warrior's jade mask, sending sparks flying into the air. His opponent fell back with a cry of pain.

But Ran was not finished. He pressed forward, lightsaber blazing in spinning arcs. At the end of the display, he slammed the weapon deep into the warrior's arm, boring a hole and sending the smell of burnt flesh into the air. To his credit, the warrior did not cry out, but simply dropped his weapon. Its red blade disappeared as soon as it left his hand.

Ran ripped his lightsaber free of his opponent's limb, resting its glowing blade by his face. The jade mask fell away, sliced cleanly in two, revealing the dark warrior as a Rodian, green tapered snout twitching in a snarl of outrage and pain. His insect-like eyes glared at Ran with open hatred.

"Jedi revere life," he told the Rodian grimly. "But I'd kill you without a second thought for trying to kill me and my friend over there." He looked over to where De-Lanna had fallen. She was getting up, shaking her head, trying to clear it. Her groans were loud. "Are you all right?" Ran asked in concern. The brown-haired Jedi nodded uneasily; movement apparently disturbed her senses, an observation that worried him.

He picked up the Rodian's lightsaber and tucked it into his belt. "Stay where you are," he ordered, "or I swear I won't spare you the next time." He extinguished his lightsaber but kept it in hand, rushing to De-Lanna's side. Without preamble, he rested a hand against her forehead, letting the Force flow through him and into her. Bonded briefly as they were, he felt the injuries she had sustained knit and heal. "Come on," he said gently, helping her stand, "Let's get this guy bound up before he gets any funny ideas."

"Thank you," she said, still holding her head. "Now I know what a stomped-on Jawa feels like." Her eyes widened suddenly, and Ran, already alert for treachery, spun and ignited his lightsaber in one motion. There was an agonized cry as his blade sliced clean through the Rodian's arm, sending the severed limb sailing across the cemetery. The green-eyed Jedi followed his blade with a hard roundhouse kick to the Rodian's temple. He met resistance and heard a loud crack. The dark warrior fell to the snows, unconscious.

Ran checked for a pulse. "Still alive," he declared grimly, his tone neutral. "He should be out for the next few hours, at least. We won't have to worry about him."

"Then we should find the others." De-Lanna recovered her lightsaber, clipped it to her belt, and with Ran's assistance, hobbled to the Temple proper. They left the Rodian lying in the cold snow.

With the brown-haired Jedi hanging on his arm, Ran decided to take advantage of the situation. He slipped his hand around her slim waist and pulled her closer to him by an infinitesimally small amount. She grunted, "Watch it, nerf-herder. I'm watching your every move."

"You seem to have an unhealthy interest in me then," he replied lightly.

"Monkey-lizard!" she hissed. "Just don't get too comfortable." Ran just laughed, which only served to raise her hackles. With surprising dexterity for one still unbalanced by her injuries, De-Lanna stomped on his foot, hard. Ran sucked in a breath. "Like I said, don't get too comfortable."

On that note, they made their way into the Temple, where they found Ascera, Carson, and Borworken at an ancient computer terminal, accessing the Temple schematics. The Twi'lek let out a cry when she saw them. "What happened out there?"

De-Lanna offered to explain. "That dark Jedi we fought was a lot tougher than we expected," she said simply.

"It was a Rodian who claimed he was one of the Sith," Ran said.

Ascera blinked. "Impossible, Master Skywalker fought the last of them. There aren't any Sith left to teach a new generation."

Ran shrugged. "Maybe this one found a holocron or something, or met a Force spirit like Exar Kun and learned from that. But he was trained in the Jedi arts, and knew how to wield a lightsaber something fierce. He almost killed De-Lanna."

"Where is he now?" Carson asked, checking the settings on his blaster.

"I left him unconscious and one arm lighter," the green-eyed Jedi replied coolly. "And I took his lightsaber. He didn't seem too proficient with the Force other than telekinesis. His power was mostly in the martial arts."

"Meanin' that he won't be a problem against three Jedi and two mercenaries if he wakes up," Carson reasoned. "I wouldn't 'ave let 'im live if I were you," he muttered.

"Well, you're not me," he countered with a bit more vitriol than he intended. His brush with death—and the wellspring of rage he had experienced during the fight—left him edgy. "There's no need to needlessly kill an opponent if he's been disabled and no longer a threat. There's a story of a swordsman of the Old Republic who killed without mercy and, when he finally met his match, he begged for the very mercy he denied to others. He died alone and friendless." Carson looked as if he was going to argue, but remained silent. That did not stop him from shaking his head, though.

"A warrior claiming he is a Sith coming to a Temple that holds a Sith prisoner," Ascera noted grimly. "This is no coincidence. That Rodian must have been after Darth Malice, perhaps to learn from him or free him or both."

Ran nodded. "That's logical. He also mentioned that he had a master, so we'd better watch out for any more dark Jedi in here. I can't say I'm terribly interested in another lightsaber fight, though."

"I second that," De-Lanna muttered, favoring her side. She still held onto Ran's arm for support, though her sour expression blatantly spoke volumes of her feelings on the matter.

"Regardless, we must press on," the Twi'lek declared. "I sense the dark side below us—probably where the Jedi caged Darth Malice. But my instincts tell me that there is something even more important above us." She pointed to a spiral staircase in one corner of the grand entrance chamber. "There is no dark side energies there, just a cool serenity; something of importance to the Jedi lies there, I'm certain of it."

"Jedi magic," Carson muttered in low tones to his Wookiee companion, who growled in resigned assent. Clearly, they did not share in Ascera's confidence about their priorities.

"Ascera is right about that," De-Lanna said agreeably. "I, too, sense something of tremendous value above. But the master of that Rodian dark Jedi must be found if he is indeed trying to get to Darth Malice."

Carson spoke, waving his blaster in a display of masculine power. "Leave that to me, the fuzzball, and Ran. We're tough cookies; we'll take 'em for you ladies."

"I agree," said Ran. "Don't worry about us. We'll be careful."

Ascera sighed. "Ran, every time you say that, you end up lying. Just try not to get yourself killed."

The party divided into two groups, and the female Jedi headed up the spiral stairs. The remaining three pressed on and found a thick durasteel door, slightly open with its locks excised by the cut of a lightsaber. Ran grimaced. "This leads to the chamber below, but we're a bit late," he announced with quiet dread. He ignited his lightsaber and slipped through the slightly opened doors. The mercenaries followed a few steps behind. Carson flooded the stairwell within with light from a glowrod attached to his blaster.

They heard laughter as they reached the base of the stairs and entered the chamber of the imprisoned Sith Lord. Austere and circular, it held nothing more than a durasteel portal at the far end and the great cryogenic prison of Darth Malice, Dark Lord of the Sith. Standing before that prison were two black-robed figures, a withered human man and a beautiful, violet-skinned Twi'lek. The old man was laughing.

"Welcome, Jedi and companions!" he howled. "I sense that you defeated Quid Carm. I extend congratulations, for he is well trained and a fearsome opponent. You must be truly skilled indeed to have bested him." His tone was sincere, flattering.

Ran strode toward him, lightsaber in hand. "You must be the Rodian's master, then," he observed. "You have us at a disadvantage, dark master. You knew of our coming, but we could not sense you at all."

"But of course!" he replied gaily, "The dark side is a power that no Jedi can match! By all accounts, even your Master Luke Skywalker once succumbed to its lure. Hiding ourselves from your senses is a talent that all Sith must master."

"You are no Sith," Ran declared firmly. "That order died long ago."

The old man just laughed. "How little you know, young Jedi. The Sith your master defeated are dead, true. But I will bring them back. It was I who found the Sith holocron on Coruscant's lowest levels, a forgotten record of this great man," he raised a reverent hand to the cryogenic chamber, "and his many deeds. From that holocron I learned how to wield the Force and construct a lightsaber and to use both in battle. From there I gathered my own apprentices and taught them the dark arts. From there I learned of Mathassi and Darth Malice. And further will we go, when we bring the Dark Lord of the Sith back into this galaxy!"

Carson scoffed and lazily fired his blaster. "Shut up, old man."

The Twi'lek moved with Force-enhanced speed, silently drawing a red-bladed lightsaber from her belt. The blaster bolt screeched as it struck the energy blade. It bounced off and hit the wall near Carson's head; the mercenary involuntarily jumped, surprised.

The old man smiled, revealing rotted teeth. "As you can see, Leena here is also well trained. You defeated Quid Carm, but with help from another, or my senses fail me. You're companions' blasters are useless here. How can you best his equal alone, Jedi?"

Ran ignited his lightsaber and whispered over his shoulder to the mercenaries, "He's right. You'll only get killed here. Get Ascera and De-Lanna!"

"Frell it, kid," Carson snarled, "I ain't runnin' like a coward!"

"Then you'll die like a fool!" the green-eyed Jedi countered. "This isn't a democracy, Carson. Get out of here before you get yourselves killed. I can't do this alone, but this is a Jedi matter, so get Ascera and De-Lanna!"

The mercenaries reluctantly moved toward the stairs. As they left, Carson muttered nastily, "First tour guides, now errand boys. What's the galaxy comin' to, Borworken?"

Once they were safely away, Ran turned his full attention to his two opponents. His fingers trembled at the thought of facing two dark Jedi. "There is no emotion," he recited under his breath, "there is peace." But his fingers still trembled.

"I am Marcus Tauth, and you will die here, Jedi," the old man proclaimed, raising his hands. A dark pall swept across the room, filling it with a dull slowness. Everything moved slower, Ran's legs, Ran's arms, Ran's senses—everything came close to stopping, except for the dark Jedi, who seemed to move faster and faster. Ran felt sweat bead on his palms and forehead. Fear, cold and retched, stuck his voice into his throat and made even that dry and aching. His breath came in ragged, short gasps.

The Twi'lek woman charged, her lightsaber spinning in a precise, graceful arc. Ran moved to counter, but his arms were sluggish and fear tripped his heart like a hammer. He only barely brought his weapon to defend in time. This battle, he knew, would be much, much worse than the one against Quid Carm.

The Twi'lek, Leena, was far more dexterous than her Rodian counterpart, though she lacked the upper body strength to attempt the pulverizing blows Quid Carm performed. But she was a crafty foe, snaking her blade past Ran's defenses, scoring hit after burning hit across his arms, thighs, sides, and chest. In moments, his tunic was in charred shreds, and boiled blood caked cauterized flesh wounds.

I can't keep this up, he thought desperately, She's just too fast, too accurate. He spun his lightsaber in a wild maneuver, catching her incoming blow and turning it harmlessly aside. It only returned on a back pass, scoring a hit on his left forearm; he bit his lip to suppress his cry, closed his eyes against the tears as he caught whiff of the horrid stench of his own burning skin.

Then came the lightning. Marcus Tauth, standing defiant and glorious by the chamber of the Sith Lord, raised his hands and let loose his power. Blue lightning spilled forth, washing Ran in pain and spasms. His lightsaber dropped to the floor and he was sent flying back against the wall. He had suppressed the hurt he felt in his body during the lightsaber duel, but with the dark side tearing into his very being, he could not help but cry out in pure, utter agony. Smoke rose from him, and black scorch marks appeared on his face, neck, and other exposed areas. The tirade abated, and he crumpled to the ground, dizzy and dazed, his vision a haze of purplish lights.

But he could make out the ferocious image of Leena bearing upon him, her blade poised to lay the killing blow. Instinct took over, and Ran called upon the Force to aid him. His lightsaber skated across the stone floor to his hand, and he thumbed the activation switch. The blue blade shot forth, stabbing the Twi'lek woman in the abdomen. He narrowed his eyes and willed the Force to push her away. She hurtled through the air to land on the other side of the room, badly wounded. Her shallow breathing indicated that she still lived.

"Impressive, boy," Tauth said as he observed his apprentice's defeat. "You are a most powerful warrior. I can only assume that it was you and your friends who defeated my Zoddo hirelings. Their failure at preventing Jedi interference here on Mathassi speaks volumes of my wasted credits. But no matter—I alone have power enough to crush your insignificant life, if I so choose."

Ran struggled to his feet, keeping a hand on the wall to maintain his balance. "I beat your Zoddo and your apprentices. I still have enough gumption to take you down, too, Tauth," he declared bravely. "The Force is my ally, and here, the light side is stronger."

"Here, yes," the old man assented, "but you do not know the power I possess. The Dark Lord will be freed." Lightning crackled and danced across his fingertips, and Ran shuddered involuntarily, dreading the next electrifying outburst.

"Bring it, old man," he challenged boldly, even though fear ran like blood through his veins.

Tauth smiled. "As you wish." Lightning shot forth in waves once again. Ran brought up his lightsaber, catching the energy in his weapon. The old man only pressed his assault, putting more and more dark power into each successive blast. The green-eyed Jedi gritted his teeth and forced himself to pull the lightning into his blade. He could feel the hilt of his lightsaber heating, its metal casing burning into his hands. He winced, but kept up his defense.

Then the lightning stopped. "Boy," he said suddenly, "I recognize your valor and would offer you a singular opportunity."

Wary, Ran ventured to say, "What could you possibly offer me?"

"I sensed your despair, your desperation, both against me and against Quid Carm. In that battle above, you used that frustration to fuel yourself into anger, to fuel yourself further to victory."

"What of it?"

"That is the way of the dark side! What you did up there was call upon what I serve with all my heart and soul!"

Ran cringed and felt the first twinges of an even colder fear, a darkness that clung to him. "You lie."

Tauth shook his withered head. "I do not. It became a tool for your survival, and gave you victory over a superior opponent. Anger, fear, passion—these things brought you success. If you embrace it, you will become greater than any Jedi!"

"I would not," Ran replied coldly, holding onto his stalwart heart.

But Tauth had already laid the first barbs. "The Jedi weaken you, boy. They are hypocrites. They promote peace and justice, but they do so by force and blade!"

"Only because there is no other way at times," the green-eyed Jedi argued, "and we are taught to find alternative means aside from violence."

"But do you? Don't you relish battle?"

"I don't kill out of fun, old man."

"I did not say that. I said 'do you relish battle?' I know this to be true, for Quid Carm is like you in that regard. The only difference is that he feels no remorse for killing. Battle is where a warrior's heart is forged, where his potential is found. The dark side can bring that potential to fruition and turn you into an invincible soldier of the Force! You need not listen to my account alone—look upon my apprentices, Quid Carm and Leena. Both were about your age, both with the same degree of training. Yet they almost destroyed you, Carm against both you and another Jedi. What does that say of the dark side's promises?"

"I don't care for power. I'm just grateful to the Jedi for saving me and bringing me from the hell that is Coruscant's gutters."

"If gratitude is all you joined them for, then you are a greater fool than I ever believed. You do not have the heart of a Jedi, boy! You're soul is a free one, and it seeks to move with the winds and to fly like the birds. To cage yourself beneath the tenets of an ancient religion like the Jedi is to trap yourself. You deny yourself freedom. The dark side will set you free again."

Ran thought about the old man's words, dwelled on them. The ache in his heart turned from fear of this man to doubt of the Jedi. All of the scolding, the trouble he got into, the opportunities he passed up because of the Jedi Code came back to him in a rush of memory. His resolve wavered and his lightsaber's blade disappeared as he released the activator switch. Tauth smiled warmly.

"Don't listen, Ran," came Ascera's familiar voice. She, De-Lanna, and the mercenaries stepped down the stairs, weapons drawn. "The dark side only leads to destruction and death. You only have to look at the body of his apprentice to see that."

Tauth sneered at her. "Spoken like a true indoctrinated fool. The Jedi ply their lies upon you like paint, covering your true colors. Open your eyes! This is true power!" He released his lightning into the ceiling, bringing down a massive chunk of rock. De-Lanna drew her lightsaber in a reflexive response. Tauth only turned his nose at her white blade. "A Jedi's weapon, a symbol of their authority. But it is nothing more than an image of power. The Jedi claim peace, but wield the killing implements of warfare."

Ascera strode boldly toward him, her lightsaber still at her belt. "I do not fear the dark side, whoever you are, for the light side is my strongest ally." She rested a hand against Ran's shoulder. "Next to my friends, of course." Ran blinked and offered her a shaky smile.

"Surrender Tauth," the green-eyed Jedi demanded, regaining some of his composure and old bravado. "You won't beat all of us."

Tauth took stock of them with scathing eyes, but Ran felt his wariness. The old man sighed in resignation. "You are right—I cannot defeat you all, not alone. But I do not surrender my words." He reached into his black robes and drew forth a finely crafted lightsaber forged from pure silver. He dropped it on the ground and kicked it over. Ascera picked it up and clipped it to her belt.

"Your holocron," Ran demanded, "the one you told me about. Give that up, too."

Tauth seemed to smile a ghostly grin, "Of course." He dropped a pyramidal crystal as well, kicking it over to Ran. On shaky legs, he bent down and picked it up.

"Help him," Ascera told De-Lanna, nodding over at Ran. "Carson, Borworken, go get that woman over there, if she's still alive, and then pick up the other dark Jedi. I'll take care of the old man. And you," she grabbed Ran's tousled dark hair firmly, "I told you to be careful, and what do you do? Tackle two more dark Jedi by yourself! You're an idiot, Ran." She patted his face fondly. "Get yourself some medpacs when we're done, old friend."

Ran smirked at her. The kernel of doubt had seeded his heart, but with his friends here, he could just ignore the darkness that had almost gripped him. Ascera knew him well; he suspected that she knew she had saved him in ways not possible with a lightsaber. "Yes ma'am," he said cheerily.


The party returned to the village of the Mathassar, bearing the three captive dark Jedi in tow. The weeklong trek seemed shorter, less harrowing, and to their great surprise, Tauth and his apprentices were pliant. Ran initially suspected treachery from them, but none was given. That freed him from that particular worry, allowing him to focus on other things.

Ascera reported to Ran and the mercenaries what she and De-Lanna discovered. "We found a library full of databases and holocrons," she said excitedly. "Among them was an enormous crystal made by Jedi Dalaan Norsh's former apprentice, Oda Zain. Zain's holocron answered many questions.

"Firstly, Norsh was considered something of a renegade by the Jedi Council. He often dealt with the foulest scum of the galaxy: crime lords, slavers, and drug traffickers. To find enough evidence to apprehend them, he often had to go undercover, weaving his way into their ranks. Many conservative Jedi believe he walked a fine line between the light and dark sides, but there is no recorded instance of him ever turning.

"His investigative skill was only one hallmark. Jedi Norsh was also a brilliant tactician, and he based a lot of his stratagems by being able to understand how his opponents' psyches work. Many called him a 'Jedi psychologist.' That was one of the reasons why he was assigned to capture Darth Malice. Though they did not meet until they arrived on Mathassi, Norsh apparently ascertained Malice's thought processes from stories, possessions, and crime scenes. The trail he discovered brought him to Mathassi, where Darth Malice had gone to acquire some kind of powerful energy source.

"Norsh and his team of Jedi Knights came and helped the Mathassar fight off Malice's Sith-trained Quelsar allies. The Jedi then stormed the Sith Lord's fortress and took the fight to him directly. By all accounts, including the holocron's, Norsh defeated Malice and trapped him in the cryogenic chamber."

"Why do you say 'by all accounts?'" Ran asked. "Do you doubt them?" Ran saw that De-Lanna was looking at the Twi'lek in askance as well.

Ascera pursed her lips. "There is something wrong about all of this," she said at length. "I can't put my finger on it, and there is no empirical evidence to back my statement, but my feelings tell me that there is more to this than meets the eye. Something…elusive."

"Go with your feelings, for they are the will of the Force," De-Lanna said suddenly. Ran blinked; he was about to say the same words himself.

Ascera nodded. "I agree, which is why I want to return to Yavin Four as soon as possible. There are things I want to check in Master Skywalker's records on the Jedi." The party continued on their journey.

When they finally arrived at the Mathassar village, Zeth'Irak was there to meet them. "I sense that you have found part of what you are looking for," he said simply when they stepped into the village grounds.

Ascera bowed politely. "Yes, we have, but it has led to more questions. I fear that you will have to wait a bit longer for your Great Return. But I swear, we will deliver to you what we promised. Just give us some time."

The Speaker just nodded, as if he already knew this. "Go, then. We Mathassar are patient. And I feel that much more is in store for you here. You will return, perhaps sooner than you expect." With those words hanging in the chill air, the diminutive Mathassar hobbled back to his hut. The party returned to their ship in silence, though Ran, Ascera, and De-Lanna each dwelled on the portent of Zeth'Irak's words.

Soon, the three Jedi sat in the lounge of their ship, the quiet of hyperspace deafening. The mercenaries were keeping watch over the flight controls and the dark Jedi were safely contained in the cargo hold. But no matter how they tried, the Jedi could not release themselves from the cloying touch of dread.

"There's more to this than we ever suspected," they thought with one mind. "Something bigger than we can imagine, something more frightening, something more convoluted and mysterious. The dark Jedi know part of the puzzle, Norsh knew another. The last piece lies with Darth Malice, but it must remain forever hidden."

They thought this, and always, a wizened Mathassar's voice rang in their ears: "Much more is in store."

End Book One