Luke never moved so fast.
Without thought, the Force guiding his hand, he jumped back, his bright blade already alive and thrumming wildly. Catching at Jacen's lightsaber, he pushed hard and the locked sabers began to move down toward the gritty floor.
But Jacen would not be defeated so easily.
Staring at Luke, his face durasteel rigid, his shadow-red eyes glazed with resolve, Jacen began to thrust more and more power into the struggle. And it was working. He was able to summon strength enough to gain some advantage, forcing his saber back toward Luke, back toward triumph and the sacrifice he demanded.
Luke could not let him win, not this time.
Focusing all his energy on his blade, ignoring the small part of him that was still grieving for the bright-eyed jokester, the thoughtful and generous boy that Jacen had been, Luke lunged forward. His arms were shuddering in effort as the two sabers shifted back and forth in a frenzied battle for domination.
Luke tried desperately to gain control. The blinding color, the dissonant whine of clashing lightsabers, the searing heat, and the crippling sorrow were all distractions that Luke could ill afford. He shoved them aside and focused on surviving his nephew's attack.
As he gathered in the Force, hoping to overpower Jacen's strength with his own, both blades dipped low. Brilliant green light scoured across the floor, melting sun-hot trails in the surface and peppering the air with sparks and burning metal. Acrid vapor billowed out.
Luke blinked away the stinging smoke but he did not hesitate, instead pushing his advantage as Jacen's lightsaber sank further into the flooring.
His nephew scowled, glaring at him, seemingly furious at the impending defeat and then his face smoothed into calm decision. Letting his lightsaber slip lower, Luke's blade following the movement, Jacen did something unbelievably stupid... or brilliant.
He turned his saber off.
It was madness but it worked.
Caught off-guard, Luke shifted forward, startled, his lightsaber scoring along the floor, sending molten sparks flying. It also put him squarely into Jacen's path.
As the Force screamed a warning, time seemed to liquefy and it was all Luke could do to twist away, to keep from being skewered as Jacen turned his saber back on. Even at that, there was a small blossom of pain across one arm. Luke hadn't been quite fast enough.
Ignoring the burn, he flipped backward, kicking at the ceiling as he spun around. With perfect form, he pushed off in a different direction, using the momentum to escape his nephew's unrelenting attack. Luke landed some distance away and he retreated as quickly as he could, down toward the far end of the balcony.
Jacen followed, droid-stubborn, deliberate, seemingly determined to murder one of his own blood. The man was relentless, his blade whirling faster than the eye could follow - an infinity loop of deadly green light. And behind it all, his face was set into a feral mask, his eyes glowing molten-red in the shadows.
Luke couldn't believe that this was happening. He knew that his nephew had fallen deeper and deeper into an abyss of hungry control, wanting to dominate everything and everyone around him but this was breathtakingly bad.
It had all the marks of a surreal holovid, the glowing lava, the heat, the shadows torn by bars of green light. A madman hungry for power.
That Jacen was willing to sacrifice his own family was horror enough but that he deliberately chose to become a Sith, knowing their history of endless wars, their passion for relentless devastation, was appalling.
Jacen, the child he'd watched grow into manhood, had plunged into insanity.
Shaking his head to clear the doubts from his mind, hoping to center himself enough to survive this, Luke backpedaled furiously. The floor was slippery with coarse rock, and uneven - as if the ground beneath them had buckled in the heat. As he moved, he could feel the sway of rotting metal under his feet.
Frantically, he searched for escape routes but there were none. The building was surrounded by rivers of lava and cooling rock and the balcony was a precarious extension of it, jutting out over the molten heat. There was no exit behind him and no way up or down, only the one doorway they had walked through earlier.
Jacen was blocking his only way out - and coming toward him fast.
Leaping back once again, far enough that it gave him time to try and reason with his nephew, Luke shouted across the distance, "Jacen, please listen to me."
"I've had enough talk." His nephew kept coming, his lightsaber dragging against the flooring, throwing metal sparks into the murky air, leaving a trail of molten destruction behind him.
Desperately, Luke said, "That isn't the Jacen I know. That Jacen would never align himself with the Sith. He would listen to all sides, be compassionate. You..."
"I've told you. He's dead." Jacen stopped a few meters away, close to the balcony's edge. Beside him, the railing was half-melted, rough and falling to pieces and Jacen's hand was busy there, pulling at it, savaging the metal under his fingers as if his anger could somehow shatter it into ash. "I'm finally doing the right thing, the only thing. You've brought us to war and I'm going to bring us back to peace. At any cost."
"Jacen..." One final plea.
But his nephew only shook his head, snarling, "Enough!"
In the Force, there was sudden frenzy as corruption poured into the currents, a roiling mixture of black desperation and filth. Poisonous shadow-clouds billowed, obscuring everything. Although he could not feel Jacen in the Force, Luke could almost see the power twisting around him - a noxious whirlpool of slime and gelled blood, shrouding him in darkness.
Danger shivered down his back. The Force was telling him to flee but there was nowhere to go. Instead, taking a deep, cleansing breath, centering himself, Luke waited for Jacen's final choice.
It didn't take long. His nephew lifted his chin, and with one hand, thrust the Force outward - but not toward Luke.
Instead, the air was filled with metallic moans. The railing next to Jacen began to fall apart and then shatter into slivers as sharp as broken glass. The fragments hovered above the ground for a moment as Jacen gathered them up with the Force and then he hurled them straight at Luke. A storm of cutting shards.
In an instant, Luke's blade was a globe of light, a shield to protect him from the carnage. The smaller pieces vaporized; the rest, half-melted wreckage, ricocheted, hitting the floor with chaotic clatter. The sudden prickle of pain as he moved away told him that some had gotten through.
Jacen's gaze turned savage. A slight flicker of his eyes downward, he brushed his hand against his sleeve, triggering something.
The Force was screaming danger again but there was no time to react.
Suddenly, from behind Luke, the balcony exploded into gouts of flaming debris.
His back a blaze of agony, he was flying through the air, pushed high and fast on the shockwave, moving toward Jacen's waiting saber. He only had enough time to send a short pulse of the Force outward, pushing his nephew backward a step, before the blades connected.
Luke's saber slid down along the other lightsaber, and he shoved it aside, trying desperately to keep from being cut into pieces. He tucked in and rolled past Jacen toward the exit, hoping to gain some distance before his nephew could take advantage of the situation.
That was a mistake.
Pain sheeted across his back, agony-pathways sluicing straight up into his brain. His vision reddened and then greyed as he slid across the floor, his throat abruptly raw as he tried not to scream. One part of him knew that he had left behind a trail of blood and bubbled skin from his burned back; one part was trying not to collapse into unconsciousness.
As he stumbled up, he could feel the chunks of grit and metal shards digging in, a collection of shrapnel and floor litter imbedded in his skin. He hurt - everywhere.
But he had no time. Gathering in the Force, trying to smother the pain under a blanket of will-power, Luke straightened, only to have to fend off another attack.
His saber a strobe-flash of blinding light, Jacen moved first low then high, stabbing, twisting at him, trying to find holes in Luke's defensive stance. Trying to kill him.
Jacen was pressing his advantage. And it looked like he was winning.
As Luke blocked each move, he could feel his abused body protesting, his reactions slowing. His back was still a map of agony and it was distracting him from Jacen's onslaught. He knew that he had to gain some control if he was going to survive this. And it didn't look like his nephew was going to make it easy.
Eyes hardening into durasteel, pushing past the pain, Luke fought back, matching every strike with his own. But he was also giving way, moving warily toward the only exit.
Another flurry of saber thrusts and Luke backed up further, trying to gather distance between them again. He needed time to think, time to regain his balance. Time.
Jacen's face was a mask of frowns, decided and very focused. He slid a little of the uneven pavement, and stopped, staring at Luke. No smile of triumph there, no gloating on how he'd injured the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, just business and a dogged determination that was more chilling than any madman's laughter.
"Jacen, think about what you are doing."
Shaking his head, his nephew said flatly, "I've thought about nothing else for months. Your sacrifice will ensure peace in the galaxy and security for all. It's the only way."
That he had been persuaded into this course of action was obvious and Luke had to wonder, not for the first time, if he was under some kind of mind-control. Sith were known to project hallucinations and warp perceptions over long distances. Lumiya, that dark Lady, was adept at mind tricks and lies, casting her net of deceit far and wide. If she had caught Jacen, twisted him somehow, it would explain this madness.
Whatever the reason, it would be highly unlikely that Luke could talk him out of it in the heat of battle. He needed time, more than just to survive. He needed time to figure out how to reach Jacen and turn him back to the Light. Somehow.
But before that could happen, he needed to escape.
"There's always another way, Jacen." As he spoke, Luke glanced back toward the exit. "The Sith have twisted your mind. Deep down, you know that this is wrong."
"I know what you are doing, Luke. Hoping to distract me and make your escape." Jacen thrust his chin in the direction of the doorway. "You can certainly try."
Luke would do more than try. But there was only one way out and it lay past that door and the room beyond.
Yet he hesitated. He had thought the balcony was safe enough. That Jacen had booby-trapped it was a devious, brilliant stroke. Luke was sure that there were more traps waiting for just the right moment. Although he had been in the same room just a few minutes ago, it was likely that it was more than just a half-decaying chamber with old bones, droid parts, and antiquated equipment. Very likely, a death-trap.
Mara had been right. Fool that he was, he had walked right into it.
Now, he had to extricate himself and run like hell before it snapped shut.
Drawing a deep breath, trying to ignore the knife-edged pain that pulsed along nerve-endings and slowed his movements, Luke began to edge his way free. There was only a few feet between him and the door. With some luck, he might actually make it into the chamber before Jacen caught up with him.
Watching him, his nephew smiled slightly, looking well-satisfied as he swept his saber back and forth, creating luminous designs in the murky air. "It's a trap, Uncle. You know it is. Accept your fate and I'll make it quick."
Luke was about to reply when overhead he could hear the rumble of something coming fast, not ship engines but more organic. The scream of superheated air and the sudden clatter of rock on the balcony roof made them both flinch - for good reason. A meteor ripped past, all eye-scorching light, spewing stones and heat, and plunged into the lava river below.
Instantly, a geyser of molten rock sprayed skyward and there was a tremendous roar. Gouts of boiling liquid splatted against the balcony's faltering shields but they held, for the most part. The heat was tremendous but they were still alive.
For the briefest of moments, Luke hoped that Mara and Ben were safe in the ship and then he ran into the darkened room, Jacen hard on his heels.
Lights blazed on but Luke was ready for it. He turned left toward the corridor leading out to the landing platform and then swung hard right, avoiding another sweep of Jacen's blade.
That fleeting glance had told him enough. He was trapped.
The door leading to the rest of the complex was shut, probably locked. The balcony they had just left was now engulfed in flame; Luke wasn't sure if it was from Jacen's own hand or because of the meteor strike but the cause was irrelevant - that path was now closed to them both.
More importantly, the way toward his ship was sealed tight. But, to his great relief, the center of the landing platform's door was glowing red and gold - no lightsaber blade cutting through but he could hear concentrated blaster fire pinging against the metal.
Mara to the rescue.
He jumped over the central podium, hoping to keep Jacen at arm's length a little longer. As he did, he could almost feel the buzz of danger grinding against his connection with the Force. In the electronic equipment lining the wall behind his back, the potential threat felt strong, and seemed to be the centerpoint of menace in the room.
Jacen couldn't get to him easily without leaping across the console and that would leave his nephew vulnerable. He looked furious, a blaze in his red-yellow eyes. He kept slashing at equipment, trying to reach Luke by hacking away at the barriers, and then flinging the pieces at him with the Force. The broil of melted fiberplast filled the air and there were sparks and growing smoke everywhere.
The ache of his injuries started to edge into agony again. But Luke wasn't about to be overcome so easily. With a great effort, he shoved the pain aside, concentrating instead on Jacen's actions. He backed up slowly, moving toward the exit, keeping an eye on the glowing doorway, ready to escape as soon as there was an opening.
As one large piece of machinery skidded past and crashed to the floor, Luke said, "Jacen, it doesn't have to be this way. You're ill. You've been blinded by Sith lies. They've twisted your mind..."
Jacen's laugh was harsh, rasping, "Blinded? I don't think so. You are the one who has been blinded. By weakness."
"Compassion isn't weakness, Jacen, but strength." He eased back, keeping distance between them. "But it's not too late. Come back with me. Together we can figure out how to end this war without..."
He knew that his nephew wasn't listening, that he was likely too far gone with blood-lust at the moment to listen to him. But until there was no hope, he had to try. "Jacen, please.."
Shaking his head, Jacen fingered his sleeve again. From behind Luke, cracking energy spat out, loops of electrical charges snaking across the equipment panels. He could feel faint traces of the current skittering across his skin, even at a distance, and his mechanical hand tingled. He knew that if he touched the surface, it could prove deadly.
It was obvious that his nephew had some type of device on his arm, one that controlled the traps. A vulnerable point. Jacen would have to protect it, whatever it was, if he wanted to control the fight. Of course, if Luke hit it, theoretically, the whole place could go up in a fireball to rival that last meteor strike.
It was time to fight back - carefully.
As another piece of equipment sailed toward him, Luke caught it and shoved it back, aiming for Jacen's arm.
A heated glare and, frowning, realizing that Luke was no longer defending but attacking, his nephew increased the barrage, picking up bones and leathery skin, droid parts as well as fragments of mechanical scrap. And in that hailstorm of debris, Jacen made his move, leaping across the central console, slashing downward toward Luke's head.
Luke pushed back, a Force shove that sent his nephew careening into the control center. With a harsh growl, Jacen was off-balance, blood blossoming on one arm as fiberplast stabbed into him.
Starting forward, Luke hoped to reach his nephew and force him to surrender without further bloodshed. But instead, Jacen flung out his hand, using all of his strength to try to drive Luke back toward the electrical chaos behind him.
Luke had anticipated it. With a great effort, he met power for power. For a few moments, they were equally matched - hands raised, almost touching. But he wasn't Grandmaster for nothing.
Letting go of restraint, letting go of redemption, letting go of everything except the will to survive this, he poured all his remaining strength into beating back the attack. He could feel Jacen faltering. A step back and his nephew was hard against the central console and still Luke pushed.
He could feel Jacen's fury rising, see his bloodied eyes filled with malice. But he would not relent. With one final thrust, Luke broke through, and slashing down at Jacen's saber, cut the hilt into pieces.
Standing there, his blade at the ready, Luke said, finally, "Yield."
Blinking down at his useless lightsaber, and then at Luke, Jacen straightened, "You think you've won but the Sith will rise again."
"Perhaps but not today." He pointed toward Jacen's sleeve. A black band was just visible beneath his tunic. "Take it off. Now."
His nephew's face hardened into stone. As he reached for it, Luke's lightsaber, steady and sure, followed the movement. "Carefully."
With exaggerated care, Jacen loosened the band and placed it onto the console. It seemed an intricate piece of jewelry, black jewels set into some type of metal. Even from a distance, it felt unclean. "How do I shut it off?"
"Afraid I might have set another trap?" His mouth flattened in distaste, fury and determination in his eyes. "I won't help you, Uncle. Every moment you live is a moment deeper in chaos. Your sacrifice would have brought peace to the galaxy. The Sith prophesies foretold it long ago."
Luke sighed. It was clear that Jacen was insane, even more so than when he was fighting him. At least, there he could almost understand the blood-lust. His nephew's recovery looked to be long and difficult but Luke was sure he would be reclaimed by the Jedi eventually.
But first he needed to shut down the remaining traps. One hand steady on his lightsaber, he used the Force to pull the black band into his flesh hand.
The darkness was even more pronounced as he fingered it, almost slimy in its slick metallic whorls and black stones. Taking a deep breath, centering himself, ignoring the pain and sharp reminder of blood and shredded skin, of the aching need for bacta and soon, he felt along the surface. A small nudge from the Force, he pressed against one stone and the electronic chaos behind him died away.
And Mara raced into the room, Ben hard on her heels.