Parents - 3661.259 BY
Zanleya deftly twirled her lightsaber, spinning the double bladed weapon round to slash left then right, each move carefully executed. In reality she only held a training staff, but in her mind it was the lethal weapon of the Sith and every swing and swipe hew limbs and heads from imaginary opponents. Now that Harkun had permitted her to use a double bladed weapon during practice she was faring better; although she was yet to fight anybody outside of the simple drills. She was relieved that Traz seemed to have forgotten her for the time being, having beaten her to within a millimetre of her life a fortnight ago. The mere thought of him caused her to scowl and the next three imaginary foes she felled all bore his sneering rattataki face. Despite large amounts of kolto she still had a bandage around her midriff from Traz's blow and it was not an injury she bore with pride.
Zanleya moved swiftly, practicing her moves, booted feet patting out a regular rhythm on the flat roof. She was on top of one of the Academy's many sections, the ancient orangey stone beneath her. Before her lay the valley of the Dark Lord's, the sun slowly setting over the horizon in a blaze of crimson glory, as it sank darkness crept in, long fingers of shadow spreading from the many statues that lined the valley. The air was warm; the stone around her still radiating the scorching heat of the day, although a gentle breeze blew in from the plains.
As she spun her staff to cut down another fictitious nemesis she felt a presence behind her. She snapped round in a flash, staff raised and ready to strike whomever it was that dared creep up on her. Stood a few metres away was a Sith lady, the newcomer was smiling with mild amusement, her expression only just visible beneath her dark hood. The Sith was clad in close fitting black robes and a combination of the dim light and raised hood all but concealed her face. Her build was slight but it was immediately apparent from her posture that she knew how to handle herself in a fight. Small black pauldrons covered her shoulders and her hands were gloved, red marks on her light armour and belt finished her menacing visage. She stood tall with a poise that oozed confidence, as if the practicing acolyte was not a threat in the slightest.
"Why don't you lower your stick, I'm not planning on hurting you," the Sith said. Zanleya held her pose, eyeing up the intruder as if weighing up her chances of beating her in a duel. Then she spotted the lightsaber clipped to the newcomer's utility belt. Zanleya lowered her arms in resignation, it could slice through her staff in a single blow. Given that the Sith possessed a lightsaber she doubted that she could win in a contest of force prowess either and that meant she was at her mercy, not a situation she approved of. Rules forbade outright murder in the Academy and while technically she was on top of it rather than in it the thought gave her some small consolation. If it came to it though, she thought, she could name drop her master Darth Kharvak. For, while he was not on the Dark Council, he had a fearsome reputation and would not take kindly to somebody hurting his apprentice. All this she considered in a few seconds, preparing herself for as many potential outcomes as she could.
"What do you want?" Zanleya demanded, her eyes never straying from the Sith.
"I was actually just coming to investigate the presence I felt above my chambers," the lady replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. "It doesn't usually bode well when people climb above the room in which you sleep." Zanleya's brain raced, quickly trying to place in her mind what was below her in the Academy building. It was the residential wing for young Lords she realised, whoever it was that stood before her was without a doubt her superior and that meant she was in trouble. As much as she hated it, she recognised that deference and begging forgiveness was the safest way out of what could rapidly become a bad predicament.
"Sorry my Lord, I just wanted somewhere private to practice," Zanleya apologised with all the humility she could muster. One day, she swore to herself, she would be the Lord, demanding the respect of all around her, but for now she knew she must wait her turn. The Lady nodded, as if accepting the apology.
"Good, you are right to address me as Lord, although I would prefer the title of Lady, but Gethen will do," the Sith stated. She lifted her hands to her head and lowered the hood, revealing a fair skinned and relatively young human face behind. Gethen's eyes were shadowed with purple but her skin lacked the marks or blemishes caused by excessive use of the dark side, resulting in her still possessing youthful beauty. She did however have a scar across the left side of her face which looked like it had come from an explosion of some sort, although it did not horribly mar her appearance. "And you are?"
"Zanleya, acolyte to Darth Kharvak," she replied dutifully.
"Ahh Darth Kharvak, one of the purebloods?" Gethen queried, Zanleya nodded in response. "I know of him, Darth Erebus is my master." Zanleya's eyebrows rose. She had heard of Erebus and he was not somebody to be crossed and if he had chosen Gethen to be his apprentice then she was somebody to be rightfully scared of.
"Good, I sense your fear Zanleya, you are wise to be afraid, but I bear no ill will against you, ensure that it stays that way," Gethen warned. Zanleya nodded, not really knowing what else to say.
"Come, let's sit and talk. Now that you've got me out of my room we might as well enjoy the sunset," Gethen said, walking to the edge of the Academy's roof and sitting down, her legs dangling over the lip of the building. Zanleya followed her to the edge and sat next to the Lady; she knew it would be foolish to refuse. "Erebus has kept me very busy this past week and I've not had a chance for any socialising, not that my fellow Ladies and Lords are much fun to mix with anyway. I'd rather talk to a sickly bantha than the majority of them!" Gethen said. "So tell me a bit about yourself, your trials, your master."
"Well… I've been here for…. just over three years now," Zanleya said, after performing a mental calculation. "Darth Kharvak rescued me from Nar Shaddaa and took me as his apprentice. I've been training here since, although he deemed me too young to join the new inductees at first so he educated me himself for the first couple of years," Zanleya explained, relaxing slightly as she told her story.
"And this last year? I see you're injured," Gethen observed. Zanleya scowled at this, not appreciating being reminded of her recent failure.
"I joined the latest group of acolytes this year. That injury came from being beaten by another acolyte in the duelling pit," Zanleya replied stiffly.
"Ahh hence your evening practicing up here, you're planning to take revenge?" Gethen said, although it was more a statement than a question.
"Yes," Zanleya agreed with vehemence.
"Very good. Is Harkun still an overseer, is he teaching you?" Gethen queried.
"He is," Zanleya answered.
"Ahh so he's still at it, he set my trials, although I think he got a bit scared of me when he learnt that Erebus was my master," Gethen said with a smile that implied there was more to the story than she was letting on.
"I wish Kharvak had that effect on him," Zanleya grumbled. "Harkun doesn't try to kill me I guess but he sure doesn't give me any mercy either." Gethen chuckled. "What about you, if you don't mind me asking, how did you get to be here?" Zanleya inquired, seeing that the young Lady seemed to be in an amicable mood.
"Of course you can ask, it's not often I get to talk to somebody new," Gethen said. "I was born on Balmorra, it's a war torn world in the colonies region, that between the core worlds and the inner rim. Not such a great place to grow up, although I don't remember it that well. I never knew my parents; I was already an orphan by the time the war began. Do you know of the Voidwolf?" Gethen asked.
"No," Zanleya replied, shaking her head.
"Harridax Kirill is his real name, although most people call him the Voidwolf. He's the Grand Admiral of the Empire and a former slaver; he attacked Balmorra and I guess I was unlucky enough to be there when he did. My brother and I were taken as slaves, although they quickly realised he was force sensitive so whisked him away to Korriban to train, I haven't seen him since," Gethen explained with a note of melancholy in her voice. Zanleya sensed a lie, but did not say anything. "I was left completely alone as a slave to the Empire, those were dark years," Gethen continued, her eyes staring into the distance as if looking into the past.
"I was a slave too, although for a Hutt rather than the Empire," Zanleya remarked.
"Ugh, I'm not sure which would have been worse! Anyway, fortunately life didn't stay that way, I was force sensitive as well, although they didn't realise it at first; as soon as they did I was sent to Korriban too. I guess I must have done something well because I drew the attention of Darth Erebus almost straight away and he took me on as his apprentice. I finished my basic training and became a Lady of the Sith and that more or less brings me up to now. Although Darth Erebus still has more to teach me, much more it seems given how much time off I get!"
"That's quite the tale," Zanleya remarked.
"What about you then? Who were your parents and how did you end up on Nar Shaddaa? Or were you unlucky enough to be born there?" Gethen asked. Zanleya hesitated, but when Gethen turned to face her she decided it was best to comply with the request and tell her story.
"I was born on Nar Shaddaa, an only child, my mother lived there. My father, Jenran…" she choked up slightly before spitting out her next words, "is a Jedi."
"A Jedi?" Gethen exclaimed in surprise.
"Yes, a filthy hypocrite! One of their 'oh so noble' knights," Zanleya went on, her words dripping with enough venom to kill a fully grown nexu. "He fell in love with my mother when he was stationed on the Smuggler's Moon," she continued. "Then when I was seven the Jedi council demanded his presence elsewhere… he just cut ties and left. He feared the council would find out he'd broken their code and fallen in love so I guess he didn't want to risk communications from off world. What sort of stupid order is that? That they can't love?" Zanleya ranted. Gethen was quite amused by the acolyte's anger, but did not interrupt. "My mother tried to reach out to him, but he refused to have anything more to do with her, he said it was too dangerous to come and see her or contact her and that his true duty was to the stinking Jedi, not her. Then that was it, we never saw or heard from him again. My mother was in debt though and without Jenran's protection a slimy Hutt called Bragga took us into slavery. She died under the Hutt's treatment," a tear nearly fell down Zanleya's face, but her anger and hate burned away the emotions of loss and sorrow. "I was a serving girl in the palace until I ran away and when Bragga's minions were about to catch me Darth Kharvak showed up and brought me here," Zanleya said.
"You hate them then, the Jedi?" Gethen asked.
"Yes, every single member of their wretched and hypocritical order," Zanleya raged.
"Good, hate will make you strong. So tell me, what do you know of the Empire? My view is somewhat tainted by being a slave to it in my childhood." The pair chatted on into the evening, sometimes Gethen would ask questions or seek Zanleya's view on a topic, other times she would tell a tale of her own exploits. At length though the night drew in and the temperature began to fall.
"Well this has been most interesting, it was good to meet you Zanleya," Gethen said. "But I must go and rest, my master still has much work for me to do."
"The pleasure was mine, my Lady," Zanleya replied respectfully.
"Farewell acolyte, I am sure we will meet again," with that Gethen simply slipped off the edge of the roof, dropping into the darkness, before slowing her fall with the force to land upon the shadow wreathed sands below. Zanleya was left, slightly surprised and alone, on top of the building staring after the intriguing young Lady of the Sith.