Chapter Eight: The Meaning of the Code

Korriban. Another day of tests and Trials. Another day both Arkarix Krell and Reyenna Desme had survived.

He grinned as he sparred with her in the Sith Academy's exercise area. Since their encounter at the Tomb of Marka Ragnos, they had developed a mutually beneficial arrangement. She had innate Force strength, but lacked training. He provided assistance with swordsmanship and with basic Sith philosophy, and she proved to be a quick study in both areas. She would never be his equal – But the next time she got into a duel, she would be able to do a lot more than just hack away like a woodcutter chopping a tree.

For her part, Reyenna showed him that he actually enjoyed teaching, and that he had some skill at it. He felt a rush of satisfaction as he watched her progress. After each practice session, they would go back to the dormitory. There, she became the teacher, revealing the earthier pleasures he had denied himself during his years devoting himself to study. Her creativity was boundless, and they explored new variations with each encounter. In some respects, he felt he had learned more about the true nature of the Dark Side from her than from any of his paid instructors.

They grinned at each other as they sparred, and he could feel his anticipation rising for tonight. Which made him doubly angry when a new acolyte came running up to them.

"Acolyte Krell!" His obvious nervousness did nothing to ease Krell's irritation. "Overseer Tremel sent me. He said it's a matter of urgency!"

"It always is," Krell sighed. He gave Reyenna a look of regret. "I'm afraid we'll have to end our lesson here. I will come to you later."

"I'll hold you to that." Her eyes sparkled. He felt another rush of anticipation, and a renewed sense of irritation at the acolyte.

The young man started to show him to Tremel's office. "I know the way!" Krell snapped. The young man fled.

Overseer Tremel was not alone. With him was a large man in full body armor. His face was covered by metal, the facial features painted in, resembling nothing so much as a death mask. One of the man's eyes was fully covered. The remaining eye glared balefully out from behind the mask.

Both men saw him enter, but they did not interrupt their argument.

"You refuse to see it, Baras!" Tremel declared. "The Sith are in danger of becoming as decadent as the Jedi. The red markings of true Sith are rare. Measures must be taken if they are to retain control!"

"You are a fanatic, Tremel," Baras' voice matched his size, a deep bass that Krell could almost feel across the room. "A human so enamored of Sith blood that you look down upon your own. The Sith species will fade, as all species do. What matters is that the teachings endure."

"The blood and teachings are one and the same!"

"Enough!" Baras thundered. Tremel went silent, cowed by the Sith Lord's fury.

Baras turned to Krell.

"Arkarix Krell," he announced. "Our argument, personified. Pure Sith blood, so strong in The Force that I could feel you before you even received my summons. Enormous potential." He directed a glare at Tremel. "Potential that has been squandered."

Baras moved toward Krell, the heaviness of his armor belied by the ease of his step.

"I am Darth Baras. I have come from Dromund Kaas. Do you know why?"

"No, my Lord," Kress said.

He stood still, like a soldier at attention as the Dark Lord circled him, evaluating him with his one good eye.

"The beast you killed in the Tomb of Marka Ragnos? It was suffused with the Dark Side. Its death created a tremor in The Force. It was that which brought me here."

Tremel's eyes were downcast. Clearly, the overseer had misjudged that particular test.

"Show me your warblade," Baras ordered.

Krell unsheathed the blade, stretched it out to him.

"No, acolyte. Activate it. I would see it in your hands."

Krell activated the blade, and its dark energy crackled in the air.

"Yes," Baras said. "It is as I suspected." He began ticking off the various Trials that Tremel had set for him. "Your warblade came early – all but given to you as a gift, while other acolytes make do with practice blades. Prisoners were flown in for your convenience. You were even set to slay a beast here on Korriban itself, when it should have been an offworld hunt in the wild."

Baras turned back to Tremel.

"The pacing of the Trials is deliberate," he snapped. "Only full immersion over time produces results. This acolyte's blood may be pure, but his mind is soft, unhoned, undisciplined!"

He turned back to Krell.

"Recite the Sith Code, acolyte!"

Krell raised his head high and spoke the words dutifully.

"Peace is a lie. There is only passion.

Through passion, I gain strength;

Through strength, I gain power;

Through power, I gain victory;

Through victory, my chains are broken.

The Force shall free me."

Baras mocked him. "You recite empty words. Like a child who has committed his first poem to memory, you know the phrases but do not comprehend the meaning. Allow me to show it to you."

He looked to Tremel, who sat like a condemned man awaiting sentence.

"Overseer Tremel," Baras declared, "your unwillingness to adapt to the evolving Sith paradigm has become a liability. Your actions are those of a traitor. Arkarix Krell – Kill him!"

All color had drained from Tremel's face. Still, he rose to his feet, stepping out from behind his desk. He did not flinch, nor even close his eyes, as Krell brought the warblade down upon him.

Baras and Krell stood over the crumpled body.

"He died well," Baras acknowledged. "He was always a man of courage."

He turned to Krell.

"You struck down your Master, your benefactor, a man who treated you like his own family. Tell me, acolyte. How do you feel?"

Krell felt energized. His Sith blood delighted in the kill, and his blade called for still more blood. It was only with difficulty that he deactivated the weapon and re-sheathed it.

"I feel... powerful," he admitted.

Baras nodded his approval. "Savor it," he said. "Not every kill will be as meaningful." Baras extended his arms wide. "You have taken your first step to understanding the Sith Code:

Peace is a lie. There is only passion.

Through passion, I gain strength;

Through strength, I gain power;

Through power, I gain victory;

Through victory, my chains are broken!"

The phrases boomed out, full of feeling, a weight of meaning behind every word. Krell felt moved to recite along, his baritone mingling with Baras' bass into a single roar of fury and passion.

Baras took a heavy breath as he finished. He gazed at Krell, his good eye showing something resembling approval.

"There may be potential in you after all," he said. "Return to your studies, Acolyte. I will remain on Korriban, to oversee the rest of your training personally. To see if we can overcome your false start and mold you into a true Sith. For now, you are dismissed."

"My Lord."

Krell bowed deeply to his new Master.

His passions were running high, and demanded on outlet. He went in search of Reyenna. Tonight, he would be more than her student. He would take the lead, and she would follow. He would release his passions, and bend her to his will.

He was Sith.