Okay, just a few reminders before we start:

1) Na'Lein'yhpaon (a.k.a. NLY) is Sanar and Devnos' home planet
2) Rafintair is the dictator of NLY. He was also the one who created Pucijir's Order.
3) Pucijir is Rafintair's god.
4) Holy Brothers. You remember them? Big, bad assassins from NLY, some of whom are currently after Sanar? No? Well, I just clarified it.
5) I note this in the chapter, but just to clarify it: Jarran is Sanar's father.

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Chapter Twenty-Eight: Falat's Holy Work

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Falat couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. It was all so…typical. So weak. So Devnos.

The traitor was protecting his sister.

Although the Holy Brother was unsure of why the niftyax was so important, he had seen the desperate comprehension in Devnos' eyes. There was something about this…woman…that was important. Something important enough to keep Klis fighting his programming, struggling to buck the Truth-inducer. Potions weakened his resolve, sent Klis hurtling into his precious Dark side, but the guilt… It had to be stopped.

Devnos Klis, like his father, had to be broken.

And, as with the rebel leader, the answer lay within the family.

Falat was going to enjoy watching Sanar die. For years, the treacherous Klis family had been a thorn in the side of Na'Lein'yhpaon, and of Pucijir's Order. A thorn that kept digging – that should have been a mere annoyance, but managed to cause too much trouble. It had all started with Jarran.

Well, Jarran was dead, as was his rebellion. The wife had never been a problem – neither had the younger daughter. They were watched, occasionally whipped back into line, but were otherwise ignored. Devnos was next to useless. With Sanar's death, Devnos would cease to be any threat. If there was a husk of him left when his only goal was ash, Falat would be surprised.

Besides. The niftyax had murdered the High Priest Horaire. As arrogant as her father, she had mocked Rafintair's – Pucijir's, by the heavens! – Order.

For your crimes, you will die slowly, Sanar Klis. And your brother will drown in the blood he watches seep from your corpse.

With a malicious grin, Falat drew his broad sword, revelling in the way the metal sang in the air.

Devnos Klis had wanted to protect his sister. Therefore, the poison could not work fast enough.

No one could stop Falat's Holy work.

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After Devnos left, it took her several minutes to realize that she was looking at the room in which Solo was being held. Sanar stared at the door for a moment, then at the control panel nearby. She could deactivate the locking mechanism, she bet. It couldn't be that difficult, after all – poison or no poison.

But why should she care? It was only Solo. And Jaina Solo always got off scot-free. She had a devoted lover, a caring family, two handfuls of useful talents, and more lives than a leprini. All of those would save her.

What did Sanar have? A body that was wasting away. A brother she would never again be able to understand. A beloved she saw only in her dreams. Guilt. No more time for redemption. And Durron, whom she had assumed had taken on the role of her guardian angel (heroes are all the same), was missing in action.

But…then again, Solo had come to bust Sanar out. Did that count for something? If she was going with the redemption gig, even if her time was pretty much out, did Solo's intentions matter more than before?

Sanar could count her friends on one hand. She had no experience with comradeship. But even she realized that if someone helped you, you were supposed to return the favour. Or you were supposed to feel the need to do so, anyway.

Slowly, she swung her feet down to the ground. Her eyes stayed on the wall before her for a minute. With an abrupt movement born of decision, she stood and took the three steps.

Then her challenge came: finding out which button would open the door. Her hand hit a blue circle, which only made a whirring noise as a concealing sheet of plaster raised to display a viewing window. Sanar cocked her head, rubbed her aching temples, and considered the other, various switches.

One of them had to deactivate the locking mechanism, right?

The woman groaned, and then, suddenly, the world lost its colour. The skin of her fingers tingled, and she stared at them. Sluggishly, she rubbed them together.

When her head snapped up, her dark eyes were wide.

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As Falat watched, Sanar convulsed, and cried out. He wondered if it was from the poison. But he had watched her, and, before, she had always gone limp when the delusions came. Now, her movements were jerky – sharp, even.

"No, no, no," he heard her cry softly. "Don't…not…" Then her breath came in a sharp burst, which was followed by a short puff back out. "No…"

Falat felt a clinical interest. Several months ago, Devnos had told him that Sanar had special gifts. Was this one of them? For a brief second, he almost wondered if there was a way she could be exploited for Rafintair. Then he dismissed it.

As if any woman could ever be used for a Holy Purpose beyond breeding – which Sanar had reportedly fought.

Still. One did not attack – even if it was only a niftyax – without understanding all components of the setting.

Just for a moment, he relaxed his stance, and watched.

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Look out! Sanar! Look out!

Dying, bleeding, falling, wounding.

No! Don't listen to that!

She listened. She watched.

He's coming! Look out! Behind you!

Clayra crying, Gantik falling, Braun screaming, blood, so much blood.

The one who would kill you! Sanar, look out! He has come!

"Your destiny is – "

NO.

Sanar fell to her knees, clutching her head, releasing a cry. Ever dimly, she realized that the Strings were trying to warn her, but they had never contacted her without a vision before. Her mind was being flooded with images now – images they didn't want her to see.

BEHIND YOU!

"Don't you understand, Sanar? For it to succeed, you must – "

NO.

Let me. The new voice settled her, wrapped around her, comforted her fried senses. Don't watch the fire, Sanar. It will burn you.

"I don't…I don't know how…" Never before had she blocked the visions. Not once, in her entire life. And she hadn't even seen one since Jaina's death, and then years before that.

Focus. Concentrate on me.

She tried. She really did. Every last speck of her mind fought it, as if it was permanently glued to the images and sounds that flew before her.

Then she noticed how familiar the voice was. It wasn't her beloved, but… She did know him.

His name slid off her tongue, but she couldn't hear it.

Yes, he replied. It's me. Concentrate, Sanar.

Where was she supposed to start? He was everywhere. Her hands curled into fists as she pulled herself to her feet. Her hair swung in her face. Her eyes stayed closed.

Thinking only on the voice.

Who was it? Sanar wanted to know. Maybe her beloved had some kind of inner cold, and it altered his mind's voice? But that was insane. Almost, she thought, as nutty as she was becoming.

Before she could start berating herself for lunacy, the voice drew her attention, and she realized that she had forgotten about the visions. Exactly. Good job, Sanar. Now, listen to me. The man who is poisoning you is a Holy Brother…and he's right behind you. Don't move yet!

She stopped just before she made any noticeable movements. "What…who…?"

You can't fight him. You're too weak right now.

Her temper flared, but died faster than her cry of pain did when her headache worsened dramatically, abruptly.

On the console, do you see the black square on the left?

Sanar's gaze found the button slowly, and she nodded absently. "Yes…"

It will unlock Jaina's cell. She should have worked her way out of her confinements by now. Let her out, and she'll take care of it.

"Damn heroes."

The person in her head laughed. Maybe, Sanar. Okay…now! Push it now!

Her finger shot up and jammed against the unlocking button so hard that she had to lash back and cradle her slim appendage. "Great," she muttered as the door hissed open, "even buttons are getting kicks out of hurting me, now…"

"It won't hurt for long," someone growled from behind her, and she turned to see Falat, just before he shoved her into the wall.

"Falat?" she said, stunned, blinking rapidly as his form multiplied. "Oh, Larifx, how many of you are there…" She tried to swat one of the five Falats, and only felt the world spin around her again.

"Just take a seat, Sanar," a familiar voice said, crashing the conversation. To punctuate the words, a heeled boot flew up, catching each of the Falats in the chin, and sending him to stumble back. When she had renewed her focus, Sanar realized that the boot belonged to none other than Jaina Solo.

"I don't feel so good," Sanar moaned in agreement, walking carefully to the couch.

Jaina lent her a steadying hand until Sanar was situated, then she flipped backwards, just in time to miss a swipe of Falat's broad sword. Sanar ducked, but thought she still felt a few hairs being liberated from her head. A few seconds later, Jaina backhanded Falat hard, punched him in the gut, and pushed him in the opposite direction of Sanar.

"Why don't you stay out of this?" Falat growled, renewing his attack stance as he watched Jaina.

The Jedi brought her fists up by her face, making sure to stay between the Holy Brother and Sanar. "Why the hell should I, puzilts?"

Falat swung his sword, making Jaina duck. "This is not your fight, off-worlder."

"You're the one who's off-world, you son-of-a-Hutt." Heedless of the blade's sharp edge, Jaina reached up and grabbed Falat's sword with both hands. Twisting it out of the assassin's hands, she threw it across the room. The weapon sang as it cut through the air before it imbedded itself in the wall with a thunk. "And leave the sharp edges out of it. Unless you're too much of a coward to fight a niftyax, with your 'supreme strength' and all?"

He landed a sharp kick to her side, and she tumbled into a backwards somersault, coming up winded but very much the daughter of a smuggler. "You Solos are more trouble than you're worth."

Jaina smirked cockily. "Even the women?"

"Nuisances."

For his insult, she broke his nose with a well-aimed punch, and spun into a side kick that sent Falat to the other side of the room. "How's that for feminine weakness?" she sneered as she stalked over to him.

Before he had time to recover, she banged his head down on the wooden floor. "You make me sick." When he twisted to kick her in the head, she rolled, bringing him along for the ride, only to stop when he was firmly beneath her. Straddling his waist, Jaina's fists flew until Falat's gave up on trying to jolt, kick or punch her off.

"You won't stop us." He spat the words and a tooth.

Just for that, she boxed his ears. "Oh, I think I will."

"Killing me…won't save – Sanar."

This guy just doesn't know when to quit.

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Devnos recognized the sounds of a fight, and stayed away for as long as he could. If Solo wasn't out and trying to be a hero by now, then he and Sanar were utterly helpless. And he didn't want to see Sanar die.

Eventually, however, he ambled over to the main room of his ship. He arrived just in time to see Solo whacking Falat's head – repeatedly – against the hard floor.

He is your brother, Devnos Klis. Stop her. Stop her now, if you know what's good for you!

Devnos watched in a dream as his hand moved down to grab Solo's collar. With a swift movement, he hauled the Jedi right off of Falat. "That's enough, Solo," he heard himself say, mechanically. IT kept his grip on Solo's arm as solid as if his fingers were made of durocrete. "That's quite enough."

Solo moved to elbow him, but Devnos caught her arm before it could make contact. Glaring up at him, she settled for saying, "You're a little late. Guess you'll need a new apprentice, Devy-boy."

Devnos returned her glare with an impassive look. "He is replaceable."

Falat gurgled, bringing the attention back to him. "But…your sister…isn't," he choked out, his face ugly with sadism.

Devnos' breathing slowed. From her couch, Sanar's head raised a little, her dazed eyes resting on Falat. Solo went cold.

The Strings waited, quivering, uncertain.

"Meaning, Falat?"

The Holy Brother loosed a chilling, gurgling laugh on his audience. "No antidote now, Klis… No time left."

"You were the one to poison Sanar." Devnos spoke the words for the first time, Falat's loose tongue freeing him from his silence. Too late – of course. Too late to try to stop it, or to warn anyone.

But could Solo do anything with this information?

I might have to let you go, after all, Solo.

"…O' course." Falat shouldered his way up onto one elbow so that he could take in the wide-eyed spectators with a leer. "Rafintair never…lets an enemy go."

"She was pardoned."

Sanar was sitting upright now, staring at Falat with more focus than Devnos had thought she still possessed. She began to say something, but Devnos couldn't catch it. She tried again, louder this time, but in a voice that was only above a whisper. "That's not it. That's not why you…"

Devnos looked down, and his gaze met the top of Solo's head. The Jedi was Sanar's height, but her hair was too light to fool Sanar's brother. The woman he was restraining may as well have been from another dimension – another universe, for that matter. She had probably never lived with the cold, plodding pain that dogged the Klis family.

She probably didn't even have a prophecy to fulfill.

"Why is Rafintair so determined to kill me?" Sanar's voice sounded calm, but Devnos knew the look in her eyes. It was the wild, reckless glaze that had killed Horaire, and had seen visions.

For the first time, Falat's condescending glare faltered, and he glanced over at Devnos before smirking in realization. "She doesn't have a clue, does she, Klis?" And the Holy Brother laughed. He was choking on his blood, almost blind from the damage he had sustained from Solo, but he understood that he had won. "Too late to save the niftyax now, isn't it, Devnos?"

From Devnos' nerveless fingers, Solo broke free. Blurred with speed, she retrieved Falat's sword from the wall and brought the tip down, right into its owner's heart.

Devnos didn't even try to stop her; he could only stare at those eyes – wide with triumph – and the blood that gushed free of its warden.

Too late.

For everything.

It was…it had all been for…

Nothing.

Jaina Solo stood over the body of her sister's would-be murderer, heedless of the blood that dripped from the sword she held again, or of the soulless silence that had filled the room. "It is never too late."

But tears rushed to her eyes, and she couldn't look at Sanar.

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Please R&R :)

.Tjz