Chapter 11
5 Years Prior
At last: the day of his final trial. At last, Tosin would be able to throw aside the rank of apprentice and ascend to the rank of Lord. All he needed to do was to pass this final test.
Tosin glanced around; he recognized only a few of the dozen faces. A twi'lek by the name of Andora stood with an air of brazen confidence, arms folded across his chest. A dark-skinned human woman he recognized only because they often passed each other in the halls stood off to the side, her face a steel trap for any emotion, appearing entirely nonchalant. Tosin wondered if she felt the same on the inside.
The rest of the apprentices, Tosin did not know. Some wore hoods, while others were entirely masked. They each waited with varying degrees of anticipation and dread. One of the masked apprentices even dared to tremble; how he had survived to this point, Tosin could only guess.
Peace is a lie. There is only passion.
They had gathered in the canyon below Twinspire Keep. The towers of their stronghold loomed high and out of reach above them, distant and cold. The wind howled through the canyon; no other noise could be heard other than the restless pacing of a few of the apprentices.
Above them, Darth Siphon stood on a small stone formation jutting out from the canyonside, flanked by the half-cyborg Sith Lord, Hysteria, and the peerless duelist, Lord Vestral. Rend's master surveyed her gathered apprentices wordlessly, while Hysteria licked her lips in anticipation of the carnage that was no doubt about to take place.
The earth of the mountainside was devoid of any life; sand and stone would be the only interlopers to their contest, whatever it was that their master had planned.
He felt adrenaline course through his veins, echoed by a surge of fear.
"It is time." Siphon lifted her arms into the air and spoke, her distorted voice echoing through the canyon. "I congratulate you, devoted apprentices, for having survived this long. Now is the final test to your training. For some, this will be an opportunity to ascend above your current station. For others ... a last chance to demonstrate something of worth."
Siphon continued. "You have been paired with a single partner. You will duel to the death. Only the survivor is worthy of remaining in my service. Only the victor can hope to be a lord of the Sith."
Tosin glanced around, wondering who he would be forced to face. Knowing his master, it would be someone who would test the limits of his strength and his resolve.
Hysteria stepped forward, her cybernetic enhancements glinting in the sunlight. "Coordinates are being transmitted to you now. Head to the specified location; your opponent will do the same. Once you've entered within a hundred meter perimeter of the battlegrounds, everything is fair play. Nothing is off limits."
"Show us your power," she continued. "Show us your ambition."
Vestral stepped forward to conclude the speech.
"... show us you have what it takes to be Sith."
Tosin grunted as he pushed himself up over the edge of a vast plateau nestled in the midst of the canyon like an island parting a river. He was not surprised to see that his opponent had already arrived - Tosin had taken his time, hoping to be able to meet his enemy along the way in an effort to observe his personality, behavior, and potential weaknesses. He recognized his opponent now - it was the masked Sith who had visibly trembled with fear during their master's pronouncement.
This was to be his opponent? Had the fear Tosin saw earlier been a ruse, designed to lower one's guard and draw an enemy into the dangerous trap of underestimation?
Instantly, Tosin was on guard. From a distance, he watched as his opponent waited in the center of the mesa, lightsaber activated and ready. He held the blade in both hands in a stance Tosin did not recognize.
Was this Juyo? Soresu? Ataru?
The fact that he could not tell only raised the hairs on Tosin's neck higher.
"What's your name?" Tosin called out as he approached slowly. "If we are to fight to the death, it seems only appropriate that we know who is about to become the other's murderer."
There was no reply.
"I am Tosin," he offered, still circling the masked apprentice before him. The man seemed to shrink into himself at Tosin's self-introduction. Something about him seemed familiar, like they might have met each other before, but Tosin couldn't quite place it, not behind a mask. He would have to rely on the man to offer up his own name.
What came out from behind his opponent's mask was no name, not even a language that Tosin could understand. No, it sounded more like a whine … a pleading whimper, made in desperation by an animal that perhaps understood its impending slaughter.
Frustration sparked in his chest. What game was his opponent playing? Or did the game belong to their master?
"Is this how you want our fight to be?" Tosin asked. "Are you still attempting to lull me into a false sense of security? Or are you too much of a coward to offer your own name?!"
Another pathetic mewl escaped his masked opponent's lips.
Tosin gritted his teeth. "Have it your way. Don't worry - I won't hold back!"
Electricity streamed from his fingertips in a downpour meant to swallow the masked apprentice whole, but the apprentice reacted with great speed to bring his saber up to absorb the shock. Tosin didn't want to give his opponent a single moment to recover, launching into a flying spin, lightsaber whirling forward to drive into his opponent's chest. His enemy countered with unnatural agility, a strangled battlecry emitting from behind the mask as he parried Tosin's lightsaber and then swerved into a counterattack.
They traded blows for several rounds, all of which failed to land. It almost felt like Tosin was being toyed with; all of his attacks were repelled but only at the last second - just close enough to make him think he was about to seize victory only to have it snatched away. And yet, Tosin's gut told him his opponent was not particularly skilled. Every swipe, every slash and parry made by the masked apprentice came with a cry or yelp, almost as though he felt surprise at his own movements. His steps and stance were also conspicuously awkward; though Tosin finally felt certain the apprentice had entered Soresu, his movements jutted about almost like a droid's. There was no grace to them, no flow.
What was going on? How was this fool deflecting all his attacks?
"Enough! I don't know what you're doing, but I'm ending this battle, now."
Tosin lifted his hand, palm facing the masked apprentice. From the well of strength within him, he summoned the Force, commanded it to crush his opponent from within.
The apprentice should have gasped for air, should have started clawing at his neck and headpiece in a desperate attempt to loosen the stranglehold Tosin had on his windpipe. Tosin heard his enemy's breath wheeze in terror, saw him try to bring his hands up to his throat, lightsaber still activated … only to then lunge forward with impossible decisiveness, saber humming through the air with deadly intent.
It was impossible. How could he have succumbed to Tosin's assault, only to then shrug it off in seconds -
Tosin realized too late that he had dropped his guard; the shock of watching his opponent disregard his attack had taken him by surprise. His arm lifted his own lightsaber in defense - but it moved as though through molasses, impossibly slow - too slow to parry the rapidly-approaching blade.
And then the lightsaber stopped dead in its tracks, centimeters from his throat.
Was this mercy? Mercy, from a Sith? No … more like a ruse, a play, a move in a game that Tosin still did not understand. "What are you waiting for? Enough with the games!"
That's when he noticed the masked apprentice's arms tightening, squeezing the lightsaber, pushing against it but seemingly unable to force it into Tosin's neck, as though some invisible barrier blocked its passage. Desperate mewls escaped from his opponent, helpless to end the duel.
The masked apprentice offered no mercy. He wanted to kill Tosin, of that there was no doubt.
Tosin glanced downwards to the blade still mere centimeters from his throat. He followed the lightsaber's path down to the hilt, where the apprentice's grip trembled with futile exertion. He saw what he had missed earlier in the heat of battle. A chain from the lightsaber's pommel connected to his opponent's gauntlet, binding the weapon to the wielder, tying them to each other, intertwining their fates.
Tosin stepped back slowly, careful to see if his opponent would complete his attack; he didn't. Instead the apprentice collapsed to his knees in defeat. His hands didn't follow him, remaining hanging in the air as though held by an unseen force.
His opponent was no more than a puppet.
"Don't you see, favored of my disciples? Do you not yet comprehend the nature of your test?"
Siphon's voice rang in his ear. Tosin hadn't even seen or heard her approach; it was as though she stepped from the shadows, an illusion herself, brought to life by her distorted voice. Always masked, always mysterious … always powerful.
"I don't … I don't understand, Master. Why … why is this my opponent? Why did you stop him from striking me down, or … why did you rig this trial in my favor?"
"Have I?" asked Siphon, her tone filled with mock curiosity. "Unmask your opponent, and everything will become clear."
Gingerly, Tosin did as Siphon commanded, prying the rusted metal mask from his opponent's face. As Tosin's eyes fell upon the unveiled visage, both the mask and his lightsaber slipped from his fingers, hitting the plateau with dull thuds.
"… Brother."
3637 BBY
Siphon had expunged or redacted nearly all records referring to her history before her ascension to Lord. Digging through the data was like peeling an endless onion; layer after layer would fall away, only to reveal yet another layer and without any semblance of answers.
That was why Hallie wanted to search through her old employer's datafiles; in particular because much of the information would be out of date - and thus less likely to have been subjected to redaction. She prayed that Siphon would not have bothered to filter through the entirety of the information Imperial Intelligence had assembled in its time under Darth Jadus …
She sliced the Czerka security console easily enough and rerouted its processors to activate the old Imperial Intelligence protocols. Slicing the old archives was like navigating an old but familiar maze; she knew all the turns to make, all the obstacles that would present themselves, all the protocols to get where she needed to go.
Gaining access was easy. The hard part came next.
Imperial Intelligence, in its heydey, kept tabs on virtually every element of Imperial life. Its various bureaus effectively and ruthlessly administered the will of the Emperor - or perhaps more accurately - the will of whomever Imperial Intelligence backed on the Dark Council. Nothing was above their concern, including promising sith apprentices, and rising sith lords.
If Hallie hoped to find a trace of Siphon's history, this was her best hope. Still, with only a single name and no physical appearance to act as confirmation, Hallie had her work cut out for her. Running 'Tallis Fell' through the databanks returned hundreds of results. Deciding to focus on the Darth's origins, Hallie further limited her query by the time periods Siphon likely would have resided at the Sith Academy on Korriban based on the timing of her ascension to Darth.
Sixty-six records remained for her to peruse.
Hallie went through half of them in three hours without coming across any details that would suggest links to Siphon. The process was grueling, especially on an empty stomach and after an especially trying day. But finally, she found a hint of what she sought.
"What have we here?" she mumbled to herself as she speed-read through the document. "An unfinished report to the Director concerning up and coming Lords …"
Tallis Fell was on the list.
The rest of the two-hundred page report was oddly inconsistent. At times the report referred to accomplishments earned by Tallis Fell, a female human slave who had been sent to Korriban after her force-sensitivity was discovered on Ziost. Occasionally, the name Tanis Fell turned up, also from Ziost. A sister, perhaps?
Midway through the report, Hallie found a record of Tanis Fell's death, assassinated by another aspiring Sith apprentice. The cause of death listed was electrocution. From then on, only Tallis' name ever appeared again.
From that point on, the report began accrediting Tallis with accomplishments Hallie was certain she had read to be those of Tanis. She had to scroll back about fifty pages to verify it, but she was right. Whoever had drafted this report had conflated Tallis and Tanis Fell, mixing their histories. At first, Hallie suspected incompetence - a sloppy work ethic as was increasingly common during the waning years of Imperial Intelligence. But then, a thought crossed her mind.
… could it be?
Footsteps sounded out from outside, approaching the door to the station. Hallie scrambled to get behind it, cursing beneath her breath as she picked up a blaster pistol she had disarmed from the station guards. The next duty shift wasn't supposed to start for another two hours. She was so close to an answer; she just needed more time!
Whoever it was that approached the door, it became abundantly clear they were not Czerka. They didn't bother trying to hail the guards that should have been inside, nor did they attempt to unlock the security clearance.
She had sliced the security door to remain locked, but that was a delaying tactic at best. She debated her best course of action: attempt to disable whoever was trying to enter the station, or smash the tinted windows and flee. So close to her goal, Hallie wrestled with herself for a critical second.
A surge of brilliant red light penetrated the door: a lightsaber. It could only be Siphon. She had found her. Hallie needed to escape.
She fired five shots at the glass, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Outside, a crowd screamed with surprise at the sudden violence. Hallie didn't bother looking back and instead made a break to leap through the shattered window.
Just as her legs soared over the windowsill, she felt something twist from within her, tug at her navel, and then jerk with tremendous force. She sailed backwards through the air, pulled by an unseen puppeteer back into the security station, her knee slamming into the computer console as her attacker forcibly turned her to face him.
It was Tosin, his face composed of desperate fury. He had cut his way through the door with his lightsaber, the edges of the gaping hole still burning crimson and saffron.
"You're dead, traitor."