Chapter Three-Unknown Space.

The setting sun cast an eerie ghostly light over the battered landscape of the planet. Dark craggy mountains rose high into the skyline, their summits wreathed in thick grey smog like clouds. The air was dry, and acrid to the taste, ash floated like snowflakes from an active volcano far in the distance. Small spiralling wisps of steam rose high into the air. Occasionally it rumbled deeply sending tremors through the baked earth that could be felt from afar.

Mandalore stood in a slight indent in the pass, watching. The volcano had burnt continuously since they had arrived, and had shown no sign of either fully erupting, or stopping. The larva was relentless, a slow continuous stream of molten rock. With irritation, he wiped white ash of his silver and black battle armour, feeling thankful for the helmet that encased his head; at least he did not suffer the streaming eyes that their Jedi companion endured soundlessly.

Revan. The thought of her name brought a surge of joy inside him. Battles lately had been very few and far between. Once he had become aware of her plan, to search beyond the Outer Rim into unknown space for the true Sith threat, he had amassed his men, as she had requested, and then had followed her here, to this planet. He did not care that she had not wanted him to follow, no; the lure of unspoken battles had been too great a temptation. Besides, after Revan had bested the Mandalorians at Malachor V, he had been compelled to find her, to join with her in one last glorious battle. He respected Revan greatly, and as much as he despised the Jedi, he had to admit that she was a worthy foe, and adversary. She had a true Mandalorian warriors heart, no matter how much she denied it.

He hoisted his heavy blaster to both hands, feeling the solid weight of it in his hands. A sudden screeching above him made him glance up, and he watched as a great winged creature flew across the skyline, momentarily blocking the last rays of sun from his sight. He watched as it flew towards the mountains, its great leathery wings slowly flapping with a whoosh, whoosh sound. Strange beasts, he thought, even stranger than the beasts that inhabit Dxun. He aimed his blaster at it, and took aim, but then with a languished motion, he set his arms straight, and let the blaster lay cradled in his arms. The shot would have been too easy, he thought humoursly.

He walked slowly down the slight ridge, his footsteps kicking up heavy reams of dust. Almost as barren as Ordo, his home planet, he thought nonchalantly. He glanced around quickly as the sound of muffled footsteps neared him.

"Mandalore," a voice rasped at him.

He looked across the deepening gloom, and saw Kex, the Quartermaster stood before him, clad in the all over battle armour that the Mandalorians favoured.

"Any more Sith?" he inquired.

"No, Mandalore. It has been quiet since the Exile was taken," he replied, "Seems strange…I mean, why take the Exile?"

"I don't know," Mandalore replied gruffly, "Unless they feel that it will weaken our Jedi somehow."

"Jedi!" Kex spat, "I cannot understand why we have aligned ourselves with accursed Jedi!"

"You will hold your tongue, Quartermaster. I will not have evil spoken about the Jedi that are with us. Do you not want one last glorious battle, the Mandalorians at the heart of it? If this path lies with the Jedi, then so be it. But I will not have you speak of Revan with contempt, or I will cut your tongue out from your head," he leaned close to Kex, "Not one more word, understand?"

"Yes, Mandalore," Kex hung his head, "But what of the Exile? Must we search for her too…?"

Mandalore bunched his gloved hand into a fist, and without warning, he lashed out at Kex, knocking him sprawling into the dust. He stood over him, "We will find the Exile. She in turn has been a good ally to us. Do not let your personal dislikes get the better of you, Kex. There are some in the camp that would gladly die for both Revan and the Exile." He watched as Kex slowly stood, wiping the dust angrily of his blue chest armour. "I will have no more talk like this. You will remember your place, and you will remember that I am the Mandalore, and I do not suffer insubordination within my ranks so easily," he threatened in a dark voice.

Kex stood, staring at him sullenly. I will deal with the Exile, in my own time, he thought, regardless of our Jedi loving leader. He saluted Mandalore, "Yes, as you say Mandalore. I apologise for my outburst," but it doesn't change my views at all. She will be dealt with.

"I suggest that you watch the camp to the south. Alert me if there are any intruders," Mandalore replied, "And Kex, I advise you to keep your thoughts to yourself."

He watched as the blue clad warrior strode angrily away from him, better watch that one, he said to himself, especially if we do find the Exile.

He walked into the camp, looking as he saw several of his men hasten to their feet, their hands shooting upwards in a salute.

"At ease men. You have earned yourselves the privilege of some rest," he smiled to himself, a smile unnoticed by anyone because of the heavy black helmet that covered his head. The men sat down, wearily watching their leader. When no other commands were forth coming, they lounged carelessly in the dust, their blasters laid next to them on the ground.

Mandalore gazed around the camp. To their left down a long rambling old pathway, was the ancient temple, a large square grey stone building that seemingly was merged with the hillside around it. Strange carvings ran down both sides of the great opening, shuttered for the time being by a large dark carved door. Rubble lay strewn around, choked thick with rank dark weeds that grew in the inhospitable air. He glanced to the right, and saw the Jedi woman settling herself down for the night on her tattered bed roll. He thought that she looked ill at ease, as if she were carrying some great weight. But then, he did not understand the ways of the Jedi, and their almost mystical belief in the Force.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A chill ice wind blew across the ancient and scarred landscape. Revan shuddered, and pulled herself tighter into her loose fitting robe. The temple stood in darkness, a forbidding ominous presence. The evil that it exuded was palpable, more so in the lessening light, and Revan felt an icy finger caress her spine. Even a battle hardened Jedi was not immune to such things as fear.

"Jennra," she whispered, "Can you hear me? Are you there?"

Again, no answer. Revan felt the hope lessen in her heart. It had been over two days since she had last seen the Exile. Lost. She felt the blame lay heavy within her. It was her fault. She had sent her on patrol with one of the Mandalorians. But neither of them had returned. Two days. Lost.

Pull yourself together, she reprimanded herself. She is strong in the Force, resilient in battle. After all, she had been one of your key commanders. But Revan still felt the blame was hers, after all, hadn't the Exile returned? To aid her?

"I have just scouted the perimeter. All clear," a metallic voice rasped in the darkness to her left "for now, that is."

"Well, that makes a pleasant change, especially after the last few days, Mandalore!" She sighed. Fatigue strained her face, and pushing aside a loose blonde strand of hair that had somehow freed itself from her severe ponytail, she forced herself to a standing position.

"You fought well, Revan. Just like a Mandalorian. With honour"

Hollow victory, Revan silently said, to fight with honour. "There is no honour in this. In any of this, Mandalore." She swept her arm across her brow, leaving a ghostly trail of grey ash against her white forehead. "Small victories, but victories nonetheless, and I guess we need all the victories that we can get."

"Wh…when do we enter the temple?"

Hesitation? Hesitation, and fear perhaps in the battle worn Mandalorian leader? She trembled at the thought. If he was reluctant…

"We go at dawn, well, what passes for dawn on this place."

"Fine by me," he rasped back.

Revan felt some small joy to hear the resolution back in his voice.

There had been a time when she would have refused his help. After all that had happened in the Mandalorian wars, it was ironic to see that here he was, her old enemy, aiding her here in the unknown depths of space. She glanced up at him, trying to sense some emotion, or thought from him, but he was too obscure to read. His thoughts were as hidden as his face, behind impenetrable shielding. She did sense just one vague thing. The Mandalorian stood in front of her had a secret that he was hiding. She in time would find that out, she did not like secrets between her comrades.

"May as well get some sleep while we can, Mandalore."

"Yes." he replied deadpan.

Revan knew that he would not sleep though. He would prowl the perimeter, blasters clutched in his heavy gloved hands, ready for the slightest noise or movement that would indicate that their enemy had found them.

She lay down heavily on her bed roll, shrugging herself further into her robe, praying that the icy cold would not touch her bones, or chill her heart. She feared this place. Feared what it could do, and not even the occasional memory of a love lost in a seemingly distant galaxy could stop her fearing that.

"Sleep well, Revan," Mandalore whispered over her, as he silently moved away, activating his melee shields.

She laid her head down, and tucked her robe tight around her. Her eyes grew steadily sleepy, and soon she was asleep.

"Down, down deep into the tomb. There it lies. Look at it. Look around you, Revan! The power is ours, and this time…this time, we will succeed where the others before us failed!"

Revan gazed around the dank tomb. Stalactites hung in spiky droves around her head in the domed chamber. A lone brown robed Jedi lay sprawled on the floor, her dark hair hiding her face. She could see the wounds though. Wounds across her back, where the robe had been sliced through. Blood trickled blackly, staining the brown material even darker.

"See how she resists? Even now. When we threaten her with the carnage that lies deep within her soul…yet still she pitifully clings to hope. She thinks of rescue, of friends past and present. She thinks of you Revan. Yet she does not know the darkness that still dwells within your heart. Can you feel it?"

"No!"

"Yes, I thought that you could. Listen to it, it is awakening. Like before. Oh yes, like before…Come with me, Revan. Deeper and deeper we go. Can you not see it? Can you not feel it? The darkness lives, Revan, and it will consume your very being, your very core."

Insidious now, the voice. Beseeching, pleading almost. "Traya was wrong. So very wrong. That is where she failed. She craved the death of the Force, yet she was a fool. A pawn in a much bigger game."

"NO!" Revan yelled, "You are wrong. I will not submit."

"Submit? Why would I wish you to submit? I want you to rejoice! Become again, as you once were."

"I will not…"

"You think those Republic fools will save you? Save you, Revan? Why, it was them that changed you, corrupted you! Do you think that it was a conscious decision that you changed, and became so blessed in the light? They tricked you," the voice hissed darkly. "The Republic are no more than puppets with loose knit strings. See…if I cut but just one thread…see how they dangle, how they fall?"

A lone figure stepped into the dim light. Her reddish brown hair sparkled in contrast to the blackness of her robes.

"Do you not see Revan? Take my hand and join me," Bastila whispered.

"NO!" Revan screamed…

…and awoke to see Mandalore hunched over her. "Same dream, Revan?" he rasped concern sounding in his voice.

Revan screwed her eyes tight against the prevailing morning light. She pushed herself into a sitting position, and suddenly fumbled beneath her robes. Her hand grasped at the hilts of her light sabers, and she took some comfort in that.

"We need to find the Exile," she whispered huskily. "Before it's too late."