Two Blades – 3661.245 BY
Zanleya spun her blade round, hastily parrying a strike aimed for her head. She leapt sideways and struck out, but her opponent blocked the attack with ease, following through and nearly impaling her in the process.
Their combat lesson had finished and as usual there had been the chance for acolytes to challenge each other to duels. They used simple practice blades lined with tiny spikes, each laced with pelko bug venom; any injury caused by the weapon induced temporary paralysis in the limb struck and thus stimulated having an arm or leg cut off by a lightsaber. Traz had challenged her; the big rattataki seemed to have taken a severe dislike to her and was intent on venting some of his rage upon her.
The two pulled apart, his sweaty tattooed face leering at her as he circled round. The other acolytes and the two overseers had formed a ring around the top of the small sandy pit. Unlike the spectators of street fights or brawls that had broken out on Nar Shaddaa, they remained completely silent, watching and studying. She took a deep breath, grateful for the short respite; her arms were aching from the sheer force of Traz's blows and the effort of blocking them.
"Peace is a lie! Stop admiring each other!" Overseer Harkun snapped angrily. Traz grunted like an angry tuk'ata and charged, blade held low. Zanleya bent her knees and readied herself, keeping her own blade pointing at her opponent's throat. He swung upward in a cleaving swipe which she ducked, letting him stumble forward. Instantly she lashed out, slashing at his chest, he pivoted away on one foot and brought his blade sweeping back down. They clashed again in a series of metallic crashes, Traz lunged, she sidestepped and slashed at his torso for a second time. Showing amazing agility for somebody built like a wall Traz dodged the attack and brought his leg up.
Zanleya's breath exploded form her body as his knee struck her in the chest; she doubled over, dropping her blade in the process. Traz's fist struck the side of her head, knocking her over. She collapsed head ringing from the blow, but before she had even hit the ground his weapon swung round and slashed across her chest, blade tearing through her training garments just above her hips. Pain lanced through her body as the venom took hold, paralysing her almost instantly from the waist down. She crashed onto the sandy floor, jarring her spine, still without regaining her breath. Zanleya gaped like a fish out of water, but no air came, her diaphragm had been partly restrained by some of the venom. Her vision started to swim, but not before she saw Traz raise his boot over her face, the dark underside blotting out the orange sun of Korriban.
"That's enough!" She heard Harkun shout, his voice sounding as if it came from far away or deep underwater. The boot readjusted and instead kicked her in the side, then her entire world went black.
Slowly her surroundings swam back into view, the dark haze gradually lifting from her vision. Zanleya groaned in agony, her head thundered, her chest and side stung as if a wompa had taken a bite out of her and her entire body felt bruised. She gritted her teeth and forced her eyes to focus, at first she could make out very little, then a grey ceiling materialised along with a bright strip light. She tried to roll over, but gave up almost instantly as her chest blazed with fiery fury again.
"Please hold still, moving excessively will increase recovery time," a mechanical voice droned. Meddroid, Zanleya thought, she was in a medbay, which was something at least, the overseers had clearly not chosen to simply throw her into the wilds for her failure. Ignoring the droid she made a second attempt at moving and hauled herself into a sitting position, supressing a scream as she did so. She leant back against the wall, breathing heavily. She was in a small room, sitting on what was once a white sheeted bed, now decorated with more ominous crimson patches. A humanoid meddroid stood beside the bed, a syringe of something in one hand. There was a small operating table behind it, the walls were whitewashed and lined with a vast assortment of medical equipment.
"Please hold still," the droid repeated. It took her arm in its cold grip and jabbed the syringe into her, she ground her teeth again, trying to block out the pain. After a few moments however the concoction did bring some relief.
"What's the… time… droid?" Zanleya croaked, her voice hoarse.
"It is eighteen ten planet time," the droid intoned. She cursed.
"I have to… go," she declared, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, bringing forth another gasp as she did so.
"You may cause yourself further serious injury," the droid warned, its green eyes flashing at her. However it knew better than to try and restrain her.
"Trust me droid… if I'm late to Darth Kharvak I'll… suffer far more than a serious injury," she retorted sombrely. She had to get to his chambers quickly, he would be expecting her at eighteen thirty. She groaned again, realising that she had been unconscious for the majority of the day. Gingerly she pulled herself up and nearly collapsed, her legs giving beneath her. The droid caught her and helped her to her feet.
"I don't need your help," she hissed, pushing it away, although she knew that really she did. Gripping the edge of the bed she staggered to the door, each step sending a spasm of pain coursing through her. She hated Traz, she would make him suffer she promised herself; one day she would be standing above him, laughing as she stomped on his broken body. That mental image gave her strength; she slapped her hand on the door control and was faced with a bare corridor.
"Where am I droid?" She demanded, not turning round.
"On the twelfth level in the east wing," the droid replied, its basic logic processors telling it not to sound smug that she had just asked for help.
She stumbled out, keeping one hand on the wall. Darth Kharvak's chambers were far above her current position on the fifth level in the main section of the academy… she was going to be late, she realised with dread. Uttering a string of curses that would have horrified her younger self, she limped along the corridor, her progress tracked by the concerned meddroid. Every movement of her hips sent another ripple of agony through her. She clasped one hand to her waist and kept the other on the wall for support. Staggering to the end of the corridor she reached the stairs and there cursed the Dark Council for not bothering to invest in a few turbolifts. Gritting her teeth she began to limp her way up the steps.
"Can I assist you my Lord?" A timid voice asked, after she had ascended one floor. Her head snapped round to see a blue skinned male twi'lek in the garments of a slave.
"No. Weakness is not tolerated," she retorted, echoing the words of Darth Kharvak.
"Of course my Lord," the twi'lek said, before scurrying off. Spurred on by her own words she resumed her climb up the seven flights of stairs to the fifth level.
Zanleya was as good as a gasping wreck by the time she reached the top. She was certain she had felt something give and imagined the meddroid would not be impressed with her, nevertheless she knew she had other far more pressing concerns.
Darth Kharvak's chambers were in the main section, a fair distance from where she currently was. She resumed her limping loping walk as she made her way to the Dark Lord's sanctum. She passed several other Sith along the way, most in the garb of Lords at least, very few acolytes came to the upper levels. Most of them ignored her, a few sneered at her battered appearance but thankfully none stopped or challenged her.
Twenty minutes later and Zanleya was stood before the imposing black door that gave entrance to Kharvak's chambers. Her breath came in ragged gasps and every part of her body hurt. If it was possible to replicate the feeling of falling form a spaceship she imagined it would be very similar to what she currently felt.
Zanleya pressed the intercom, but knew he would have sensed her presence already. She equally knew that she was late and that did not bode well. The door slid open. Kharvak was stood before a desk, an empty high backed chair facing him. The walls were adorned with tablets bearing inscriptions in numerous ancient languages; there was another door at the rear of the chamber. Several priceless artefacts and carvings decorated a number of the spaces on the floor. A pair of red banners hung from the wall behind the desk, the imperial logo displayed in white upon them. Zanleya's attention however was most certainly not on the room's decorations but on the back of the hooded figure.
She shut the door and dropped to her knees, which was not difficult in her current state; bowing her head she prepared to face the storm. Whether he was going to beat her, torture her mind or expose her to some other sorcery of the dark side she did not know, but she was certain he would punish her.
"You're late," his deep voice spoke the words calmly but condemningly.
"I'm sorry my Lord, I was in the medbay," Zanleya apologised, her voice still quiet and hoarse but now tinged with fear.
"I know, you failed in the duelling pit," he stated, spinning round to glare at her with his burning orange eyes, there was contempt and unbridled fury behind them. He was clad in his black battle armour, not that that was a surprise to her, she had never seen him out of it.
"I…" he raised a gauntleted hand threateningly and she quickly shut her mouth.
"Do not think yourself so special that I cannot find myself another acolyte. Traz is proving to be very capable," he threatened, taking a step forward. He had purposefully chosen to name Traz to anger her, a fact they both knew, but it worked nonetheless, her cheeks flushed red. "I picked you off the streets of Nar Shaddaa because I felt there was something special about you; you have a strong connection to the force, but that is useless if you fight like a blind jawa," he continued.
"My Lord I…" she protested.
"Did I give you permission to speak?!" He thundered, she flinched waiting for a blow from Kharvak, none fell. He was storing up his anger she guessed.
"Fine, continue, finish your excuse," he said very calmly. She knew that was worse, when he spoke gently it was usually because he was about to unleash his wrath.
"I do much better when we practice with duel sabres," she said meekly.
"Is that so?" Darth Kharvak stated, Zanleya raised her eyes to look at him; he was stood feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back glaring at her.
"Yes my Lord, but Harkun won't let me use one in the duelling pit," she elaborated, unsure if she was digging herself a deeper grave or climbing out if it.
"Prove it," Kharvak said simply. He held a hand out and a doubled bladed lightsaber shot off a rack on the wall and flew into his palm, he then tossed it to her. She caught it and stared at the weapon in fascination. It was the first time she had ever held a lightsaber before, the legendary weapon of the Sith. The cool metal casing felt right in her hand, as if it belonged. The two blade projectors were identical, one at either end, plain in style but somehow beautiful in their simplicity. She thought…
The harsh sound of a lightsaber igniting broke her reverie; Zanleya's eyes snapped up to see Kharvak leaping toward her, his own crimson red blade held high. Her eyes widened in panic and she threw herself sideways, rolling as she landed, sending a wave of white hot pain through her body. He landed where she had been kneeling a mere fraction of a second ago, his lightsaber striking the floor in a flurry of sparks. He had nearly killed her! Frantically she ignited the weapon she had been thrown, a pair of deep blue blades extending from it; apparently it was the weapon of one of Kharvak's vanquished foes. She lifted it above her head just in time to intercept a brutal chop from the Dark Lord of the Sith, adrenaline now pumping through her bloodstream. Was this her punishment she thought in panic, was he about to kill her or was he proving her weakness?
Desperately Zanleya extended her left palm and shoved with the force, trying to push her would-be master back. He barely even reacted, his own left hand waving the attack away as if he was lazily swatting a fly. She gritted her teeth and jumped to her feet, leaping backward and spinning the double bladed sabre in front of herself as she did so in an attempt to stop the pureblood from simply impaling her. He did not lung however. She landed and almost collapsed again as the impact jarred her already beaten body; at this point Kharvak charged.
"Peace is a lie!" Zanleya spat through gritted teeth, intoning the first part of the Sith code in an attempt to force herself to focus. She knew she had to ignore the pain or Kharvak would simply carve her up. Balancing herself again Zanleya pushed his sweeping attack aside, bringing the other end of her weapon round to chop at Kharvak's legs. It was a pathetic and very predictable attack, one Kharvak barely even bothered registering, he simply stepped over it and slashed down at her. She backed away, spinning her weapon as she had been taught to try to parry and deflect Kharvak's flurry of strikes.
Kharvak's face was hard and surprisingly emotionless, his blows precise. It was the best Zanleya could do to get either end of her lightsaber round to stop his single blade. His weapon seemed to be everywhere at once. Her arms were weak and her chest was on fire; she could not keep the fight up and they both knew it.
Grunting in anger and frustration Zanleya blocked another of Kharvak's strikes and then jabbed with the end of her weapon, pushing him back. She swore to herself that if this was to be her end she would make sure she hurt him first. She had thought about dying plenty of times, but at least this way she could exact a bit of revenge. She slashed aggressively left with one end then swung the weapon round to slash at Kharvak's left side with the other end. The move forced Kharvak to block attacks from both sides… something he did with ease, swapping his lightsaber to his left hand to counter her second strike. Then in a sudden burst he struck upwards, forcing her weapon up, in a normal mind-set she might have been able to spot or predict it, but battered and exhausted as she was she did not. She cried out as her arm was knocked up. In the same move he jabbed with his right fist, striking her shoulder. The lightsaber flew from her grip and clattered across the floor. She stumbled backward and struck the wall, her vision beginning to swim. The red tip of Kharvak's lightsaber appeared at her throat, the humming blade mere millimetres away. His burning eyes caught hers and held them, she felt as if they were staring into her very being, analysing every part of her. Zanleya matched the stare with all her anger and pain; she mentally vowed she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her beg. Although it was all she could do to stop herself falling forward onto the blade in exhaustion. Her limbs were shaking, body screaming, strained far beyond its limits.
"Better," he stated simply. "I shall see to it that you train with a double bladed weapon from now on." He flicked his lightsaber off and clipped it to his belt in one smooth move. Almost instantly Zanleya pitched forwards face first; Kharvak caught her with the force and lowered her to the floor where she blacked out once more.