Chapter Six

"Appearances can be deceiving, my apprentice. Trust not your eyes when sizing up an opponent; trust only in the Force. Through the Force, and only through the Force, will you be able to judge the strength of your opponent and, once you do so, whether to fight or live to take vengeance at a more opportune moment."

When Jurn revealed her true identity as a Sith cultist, Bide was certain that he could take her on. Cultists were simply crazed fools with delusions of power—they were not warriors, they were not Sith. Bide was a Sith. He was strong in the Force, he was skilled with a lightsaber, he was cunning in battle.

But Jurn was all these things and more. Bide knew it the moment her true strength broke through the restraints in which she had been containing it. The way she held her blade with poise despite having seen the skill with which Bide used a lightsaber betrayed her vast experienced. She had already proved her cunning by luring Bide into this trap. Jurn had taken no risks; if Bide had proved to be more powerful than she, the fight, however brief, with the Jedi would have worn him down to a level that she could handle. This precaution had proved unnecessary, for Bide knew that even if he was fresh he could not take her in single combat.

"I will tell your master how you cried out like a baby nexu before you died," mocked Jurn confidently. Her previously alluring blue eyes now showed hints of a yellowish hue.

"Speaking will prove difficult if your head isn't attached to your body." Bide needed to buy some time to think. How could he defeat an opponent so much more powerful than he was?

Jurn spread her feet apart and shifted her right foot back, lowering her center of gravity slightly. "Your time as a Sith will prove short-lived. But do not fret; your master will not survive much longer."

With that, she leapt towards Bide with speed that the young Sith was unprepared for—he backpedaled, bringing his blade up in a weak guard, the only defense he could muster. Jurn gave him no time to recover, continuing her ferocious assault. Her lightsaber seemed to have dozens of blades, rather than two, forcing Bide to remain in the defensive Soresu, a form he was not entirely comfortable using. He was no longer consciously moving his body; he had given himself fully to the Force the moment Jurn initiated her assault. Wherever his blade needed to be, he found that it was there. He had time to analyze her, now; he had time to find an opening.

Crack.

He felt his vision go blurry as Jurn's elbow smashed into his nose. Stumbling back, he sloppily blocked her follow-up attacks. He couldn't see where the colliding blades were, but from the heat he felt Bide knew that they were dangerously close to his face. As his vision recovered, Bide noticed that the rate at which his blade had to move to intercept Jurn's was increasing as the fight went on. She was just toying with him. Soon enough, he would be unable to block her attacks. He would be dead.

Seemingly on cue, Jurn feinted a sweep at Bide's left hip. When shifted his blade to intercept the attack, Jurn disengaged, pivoting to the right and stabbing her double-bladed lightsaber backwards into Bide's right thigh. Pain engulfed him like a blazing fire, and he found himself unable to move. He dropped to his left knee, dropping his lightsaber, and looked up at his executioner. Her lips parted in a cruel, toothy smile as she extended her blade behind her, preparing to give the finishing blow. Bide closed his eyes. He readied himself for death, for the completion of his failure. For disappointment.

Silence.

Then a scream.

The air was very suddenly filled with a loud, crackling noise. Bide felt his hair stand on end, and his nostrils were filled with the familiar scent of burnt flesh. He opened his eyes.

"Master…? How did you know where I was?"

The Zabrak, clad in a night-black hooded robe, stood over the still-smoking corpse of Jurn, burnt beyond recognition by the lightning that had coursed through her veins. He ignored his apprentice's question, saying instead, "Good work. The negotiations went just as planned." He knelt down, picking up the discarded lightsaber staff, testing its functionality. Its emitters crackled with energy, but emitted no blade. Ja'neel tossed the hilt aside dismissively.

"What? 'Just as planned'? I almost died, damnit."

"Almost," Ja'neel agreed. "But you didn't. Almost is a useless word, Bide."

"What are you talking about, master?" Bide rose, with some difficulty, to his feet, favoring his left leg. He picked up his hilt and clipped it back on his belt.

Ja'neel chuckled and threw back his hood, allowing the dim light from the alley to shine off his tattoos. "Jorb Kleen was just a front-man for the Cult of Bane. He would pretend to deal in the procurement of artifacts 'likely of Sith origin,' then do some digging on whoever was interested. If the leaders of the Cult of Bane found there to be reason to believe that it was an opposing cult looking to obtain these nonexistent artifacts, they would send someone like her to take them out," he explained, nudging Jurn's corpse with his foot.

"How'd you find that out?"

"I did a little digging of my own, my apprentice. We can't have these imbeciles running around, calling themselves Sith. They give us a reputation—we don't need a reputation at all, yet, especially not a bad one."

"Wait, wait—if you knew who Kleen was, why in the Force did you send me to 'make a deal' with him? I could've died!"

"You could have. But you didn't. Stop dealing in 'could have' and 'almost'. All that matters is what did happen."

"Alright, alright. But why me? You could have handled this much more quietly than I did."

Ja'neel shot his apprentice an admonishing glance. "Yes, I could have, Bide. But that wouldn't have been as productive as this turned out to be. Realize this, Bide: for all the potential you have, there are those with more. You have to be wary of everyone, Jedi and cultist alike. There are Force-sensitive beings born every day, and each is a threat to you. This one here," he nudged Jurn's corpse again, "she is average, at best. Hundreds more like her will end up trying to steal your claim to the mantle. Hundreds more powerful than her will try to kill you, as well. You must be ready for each and every one of them. Right now, you are not prepared to face them; you have just begun your training. Are you ready to take the next step, now, towards your immersion into the ways of the Sith?"

Bide answered without hesitation. "More than ready… my Lord."

Ja'neel draped his hood back over his face, cackling as master and apprentice left the corpse-littered alley behind, a new chapter in their journey about to begin.