The pools of rain on the ground of Kohlma were tainted with blood, cauterized flesh bits, and salt water.
Sifo-Dyas had fought bravely against the onslaught of the Bando Gora, who concealed their faces behind horned skull masks to heighten the fear that they inspired in all those who faced them.
All but Sifo-Dyas. For him, their appearance was as that of a thousand wraiths, beckoning him to be one with the Force. They symbolized a liberation from the never-ending stream of horrors that his life had become.
He had only hoped that Dooku held out long enough to let him die at their hands, rather than having the Tyranus Dooku had become saving his broken body for some sinister future purpose.
Sifo-Dyas's hopes were not to be realized that day.
He had managed to cut down three members of the Bando Gora cult without having to block a single blaster shot. However, the death cries of the advance guard brought a horde of cultists streaming from the monastery. Immediately, Sifo-Dyas adopted a Shien stance to permit him to send his adversaries' blaster bolts back toward their bodies. He managed to fell four more attackers this way before the sheer number of blaster bolts overwhelmed him.
A bolt blazed a hole in the tunic atop his left shoulder, causing him to jerk around. As he spun, he caught the sight of another throng of cultists surging down from the domed parapets of the monastery. His smoldering shoulder was soon extinguished by the torrential rains, and he recognized the futility of his position.
But he was even more bewildered by the apparent free choice he had in how to deal with that futility. For the first time in weeks, he was conscious of the several possibilities of action before him. Each of them – running away from the cultists to force them to track him down, charging impetuously into the midst of the Bando Gora stronghold, using the Force to confuse their weak minds temporarily – all seemed to have his ruin as their inevitable outcome. Nevertheless, he noticed he was free to choose the method of his undoing.
Sifo-Dyas smiled wryly, appreciating Dooku's final gift to him more than he could express.
He elected to stand his ground, to let the Bando Gora come to him. Knowing a retreat would be fruitless, he decided to compel his attackers to take the territory from him. He would die as a warrior – or at least, appear to do so.
The blasters stopped for a few tense moments as the Bando Gora repositioned themselves inside the monastery, regrouping for a new kind of assault. Their red and blue eyes glowed menacingly as they all stared at him, wondering what sort of bizarre attack he was planning.
For Sifo-Dyas had deactivated his lightsaber, held it in front of him, closed his eyes, and bowed his head slightly. He called upon the Living Force in a standing meditative stance, asking it for guidance. He communed with it and supplicated it for courage and bravery.
At the first depression of a blaster trigger, Sifo-Dyas's lightsaber snapped to life again, nearly singing the cowl of his cloak. A volley of blaster shots burst toward him, targeted at all parts of his body. The Force sped his Shien blocks greatly, allowing him to return most of the shots to their originators. Over ten blasters and bodies clattered to the floor – even Sifo-Dyas's heightened Jedi hearing could not determine precisely how many – in return for a single shot passing through his right thigh.
Normally, he would have at least slumped at the impact of the blaster round, but the Force kept him erect. He deactivated his lightsaber, returned to his meditative stance, and dared the Bando Gora to try again.
They accepted the dare.
This time, Sifo-Dyas's lightsaber snapped to life just in time to windmill around violently, deflecting the flurry of blasts more effectively but wildly into the Bando Gora's monastic lair. Still, he had the pleasure of seeing a bolt crack through the skull mask of one of the frontline soldiers, who dropped along with five other cult members.
Abruptly, the wave of firing stopped again. Gutteral, confused grunts emanated from the shadows of the monastery. Apparently, no one had ever put up such a fight against them. They were impressed with Sifo-Dyas's martial skills. Especially because he could deactivate his weapon between blaster salvos and meditate. They respected him now. They would give him a warrior's death.
He stood in the rain in Shien stance, keeping his lightsaber activated now. The raindrops hissed softly along the length of the blade as the Jedi Master and the Bando Gora warriors stared each other down in a show of mutual respect.
Until the shrill voice of Komari Vosa bellowed for the Bando Gora to open fire without ceasing.
Blaster bolts bit through the fabric of Sifo-Dyas's cloak now, driving him backward. But rather than smugly stride ahead, the Bando Gora stayed in place, continuing their assault from their initial positions, despite Komari Vosa's demands for them to move forward. For Sifo-Dyas shifted into a Soresu style of combat, even more protective than the Shien style he had adopted previously, though it now deflected the blaster bolts aimlessly away from both him and his attackers.
If they would let him go out with honor, he would ensure that their lives would be spared, his deadly point having been made.
Finally, the blaster rounds found purchase in his vital systems. One bolt rent straight through his right forearm. Another tore though the left lower quadrant of his chest. Yet another penetrated his solar plexus. A final one ripped through the right side of his neck.
When the last bolt knocked Sifo-Dyas on his back, still clutching his lightsaber, the blasters fell silent, though an errant round pierced his left knee on his way down. Komari Vosa angrily ordered the Bando Gora to bring his body into the monastery. The cultists turned around and all pointed their blasters at their leader. Their feral silence communicated that this warrior's body would be allowed to be reclaimed by the elements in the best Bando Gora tradition. Disgusted, Komari Vosa stormed to the cellar of the hideout, knowing her influence was only so strong with those savages.
Thus, no one was around when Tyranus ventured out of the transport to retrieve Sifo-Dyas's inert frame. He cradled Sifo-Dyas's body in his arms on the way down the crag, and he laid the body inside a medical stasis chamber. Its slowing of Sifo-Dyas's metabolism, combined with the Jedi healing trance that Sifo-Dyas had likely started reflexively when his body was torn into by the blasters, would save him.
Sifo-Dyas slept through Tyranus leaving the transport again once the Mandalorians had arrived. He slept through Tyranus murdering Komari Vosa after Jango Fett successfully subdued her. He slept through Tyranus and Fett making a deal for Fett to serve as the clone template back on Kamino as long as his fees were paid – and he was allowed an unaltered clone for himself. He slept through Tyranus delivering Fett to the Kaminoans, though Fett's parting words to his motionless body of Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi – followed by Fett spitting on his defenseless face – entered his dreams.
He slept through Tyranus unceremoniously dumping his body in a swamp on Dagobah, then taking off in the last flight that transport would ever provide, splattering Sifo-Dyas's body with mud from the engine wash.
And now, a year and a half later, Lord Tyranus descended his black, sinister, dagger-like Sith Interceptor in that same bog on Dagobah, the Force having guided him back to the exact spot he left the Jedi Master.
He wondered if Sifo-Dyas would still be sleeping there.
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