Xeran opened his eyes.
He felt the Force bending to his will, broken by the sheer strength of his emotions. He rose to his feet and took control of it, fed of it and let it fill him with its power. Nine years at the side of an ex Sith lord had given him the ability to summon it on a whim. But this task required greater effort than anything else he had attempted to do with it.
Slowly, he raised his hand. He envisioned the gigantic boulder enveloped by a field of energy, energy he controlled, and lifted it in the air.
"Yes! Yes!", he heard his master say. "Now higher! And maintain your concentration. I want the rock to remain in its position."
Xeran focused and poured all his emotional strength into lifting the rock higher. But the size of it was immense, and doubt about his abilities slowly crept into his mind. The rock trembled in the air, then his concentration slipped and it came crashing down.
His master remained silent, but Xeran felt his disappointment through the Force. He was certain Maul had allowed him to feel it, as the old Force user had mastered the art of hiding his emotions.
Maul approached his student. "You have great strength inside you, Xeran. But your passions do not run deep enough, and they are the source of true power. You must condition yourself properly if you want your command of the Force to reach its true potential."
"The problem is not my emotions, master. The problem is the size of that rock. It is impossible to do what you ask."
"Really? Let us put that statement to the test.", said Maul with a smug smile.
He raised his hand. Immediately, Xeran felt a familiar pressure on his throat. His hands clawed at his neck for a second, instinctively, but he reminded himself of the futility of it. Soon, his lungs were burning, hungry for oxygen.
"You shall be allowed to breathe once you fulfill your task, my apprentice. Now try again."
Xeran, obediently, turned and faced the rock. He knew he was not going to die, but it would not be the first time his master chocked him until he passed out. He felt the unpleasant sensation in his lungs and focused on his survival instinct, which was screaming at him. He let the sense of danger turn into fear, the fear into determination to survive, and the determination into power. He reached out with the Force and, with a lot of effort, lifted the large lump of stone as high as he could and kept it there until he felt the pressure in his throat decrease and managed to suck in as much air as his lungs allowed.
"You see? Nothing is impossible unless you deem it so."
Xeran tried to speak, but he couldn't. He nodded, still gasping for air, and soon he managed to talk. "Yes, master."
"Your training for today is over. If you would follow me, I wish to show you something."
Maul climbed on his speeder, and Xeran climbed on his own and followed him back to the base. They had gone far into the wilderness of the desert planet Savareen, where the Crimson Dawn's headquarters were located, to train away from prying eyes, since Xeran's role and true nature were a secret from most members of the Crimson Dawn.
When they finally reached the camp, Maul guided him inside the building where they resided, the biggest of many in the base, some of them storage rooms, some watchtowers, some of them barracks. This one was a cantina, with its blue lights filling a spacious room where drunk workers and mercenaries enjoyed the music the band played and the company of the Twi'lek dancers.
Maul guided him to the back of the building, to his quarters. The room of the elder Force user did not have much in the way of artful decorations, but various artifacts could be seen on most of the furniture, some left there to be studied and others seemingly as reminders, of what Xeran had no idea. He stood near the entrance while Maul retreated in the back of the room. He returned, holding a weapon Xeran did not recognize. It looked like a double-bladed sword, if not for the deep gray color, its broader blades and the strange patterns covering its surface. He handed it over to his apprentice.
"Tell me, what do you think of this blade?"
Xeran took the weapon and tested its weight balance. He gripped the hilt tightly and spinned the blade a few times, then brought his other hand on the hilt and delivered a powerful blow.
"It is well made, that is certain. Sharp, well balanced. The hilt is comfortable. Made of cortosis, I believe?"
"You are correct. This is a Sith warblade, a weapon common among young acolytes in the old Sith Empire. It was made according to schematics I found in my travels, as my gift to you, to serve you until you are ready to obtain a lightsaber."
Xeran was in awe. His master had trained him for a long time, but he had never received a weapon of his own. He felt like he had reached a milestone on his way to becoming a master of the Force. He bowed. "I am honored, master."
"I expect you will put it to good use, and sooner rather than later. I believe it is time you received your first real assignment in my service."
Xeran was filled was excitement, but kept his emotions in check and handled himself with care. He stood in attention and let his master continue to speak.
Maul pulled a small chair from the ones near his desk and offered it to Xeran, then sat on his own larger, black, leather chair. "As I have told you, there are various artifacts scattered in the universe, created by the Sith or Jedi of ages past, and I have made it my mission to collect such artifacts in order to increase my -our- knowledge of the Force. To that end, I employ many people. Recently, one of them has contacted me, saying he had discovered something big. Soon afterward, and before he had a chance to explain what he meant, I lost all contact with him."
Xeran understood where this was going. "Tell me more about this man."
"His name is Brehan Silc. He is a black market trader, specializing in archaeological artifacts, pieces of art and a variety of items collectors usually find appealing. As is the nature of his job, he does not have a steady base of operations, but the last time he contacted me he was on Eriadu. You will go there and investigate his disappearance."
"As you wish, master."
Maul made a dismissive gesture. "Go to the hangar area. You have been assigned a ship and a pilot, given your…lack of skill with piloting. All relevant information about your mission can be found on the ship's computer."
Xeran stood up, bowed, and turned to leave.
"Apprentice."
Xeran looked at Maul.
Maul kept silent for a moment. "As far as your training is concerned…I believe you understand the necessity of the methods I employ."
The young warrior looked at his master. If he understood the deeper meaning of these words, he did not speak of it. "It is the only path to true power, master. I would not have it any other way."
Maul nodded, and Xeran walked out the door and towards his mission.
.
The Zabrak inspected his ship.
It was a small, black frigate, lightweight and fast. It was equipped with standard shields, light weapons, a state of the art cloaking generator, and a hyperdrive.
Xeran knew a lot about mechanics and electronics. He enjoyed crafting his own gadgets, modifying droids, speeders, and even ships. His training gave him purpose, but that gave him joy, and he devoted a lot of his free time to this hobby. But as skilled as he was with such things, competently flying a ship in tricky situations, even one made for him and customized by him, let alone this one, was not a part of his considerable set of skills. He supposed that justified having a pilot, although he did not like the idea of entrusting control of his ship to a stranger.
Slowly, he became aware of another presence nearby. A human in his late thirties, with black hair, parts of which had started to go gray, and a short beard, dressed in brown pants, a white shirt, black boots and a belt of the same color, on which a blaster pistol was strapped. He was watching the black-skinned, white tattooed, short and slim but muscled Zabrak warrior, and he had deduced he was his new boss, but had said nothing and was waiting to be addressed in order to speak. Good, Xeran thought. At least the pilot was not going to be annoying.
He approached the older man. "I understand you are to be the pilot of my ship?"
"That's right, sir. Captain Shammus Fin, at your service." The man offered his hand.
Xeran shook it briefly. It pleased him even more than this man addressed him with the appropriate respect despite his young age. "I am Xeran Vox. As my mission is urgent, I suggest we skip the pleasantries and get to work. Ready the ship for takeoff, captain."
"As you wish, sir."
As the ship entered hyperspace, Xeran had finished reading about his mission and decided to head to the cockpit. It was unwise to not supervise his new pilot on their first mission together. After all, his master might have trusted the man enough to give him this job, but the younger Zabrak preferred to get to know for himself whether the men working for him were capable and trustworthy enough.
He sat on the chair next to the older man, who nodded when he saw him enter the cockpit. "Sir."
"Captain.", said Xeran as he got more comfortable. For a while, he just looked out of the window, then he took a moment to inspect the readings on the ship's navicomputer. Everything seemed to be fine.
"So what is your story, captain Fin?"
"Born and raised on Coruscant, sir. I used to be a pilot in the old Republic's military, and I stayed when the Empire took over. At some point, I realized I could not serve a military that corrupt and brutal anymore. So I left."
"And to avoid corruption and brutality, you decided to work for a criminal syndicate?"
"To be blunt, sir, not many people would hire a deserter. And the work I do for the Crimson Dawn is very different than what I used to do for the Empire. Smuggling and transport work are preferable to orbital bombardment of innocent civilizations, don't you think?"
Xeran could not argue with that. He nodded, then watched the stars pass them by, lost in his thoughts.
"And you, sir? What is your story, if you don't mind me asking?"
The young warrior looked at Shammus. "Someday, captain, after you have my trust, you might earn the right to hear my story. Until then, it is enough to say that I am a servant of lord Maul and I do everything and anything he requires."
The older man offered no objections to that. Xeran stayed in the cockpit, observing him work and thinking about the mission, and the rest of the journey passed in silence, save for the humming of the ship.