Chapter Twenty Four: Minds

Emptiness. Nothingness. An enduring, unceasing blankness in all directions. Looking down, Lorrik cast no shadow, but stood on solid footing upon some perfect surface. Some immaculate material. Like something out of his dreams.

Lorrik looked around, seeing his master calming standing behind him. "Where are we?"

"Our bodies are still within my chambers," Syrosk explained. "This is the realm of the mind."

"Whose mind? Yours or mine?

"Good question."

Lord Syrosk approached his apprentice, each step of his armored boots echoing, pounding against the inquisitor's senses. In no time, the Sith Lord was directly in front of him, his vision blocked by the master's chest plate.

"Should I-" Lorrik began before being interrupted by an armored fist being driven across his cheek, sending him crashing to the floor.

The apprentice stumbled upon the ground, arms struggling to lift himself from the perfectly smooth terrain. A cough followed. Then blood. Lorrik spit out a good pool of it, staining the white surface beneath him. His arms straightened, locked in place beneath his body as he stared at the red splotch.

Syrosk lowered himself, crouching next to the floored Human. "Why are you bleeding? Why are you in pain? This isn't your actual body. This is all an illusion. A manifestation of the mind."

The Sith Lord raised himself, then delivered a heavy kick to the apprentice's gut, eliciting a sharp yelp from the inquisitor as he rolled away, cradling his abdomen. Writhing on the ground, his vision began to blur. Things went dark. His eyes closed. His ears began to pick up the signs of faint whispers. Murmurs. Opening his eyes, he saw a blurred figure standing over him. The image cleared. It wasn't Syrosk. It was his partner.

"Jresh…"

The warrior extended a hand. The inquisitor accepted it. With a firm bond secured between companions, Lorrik raised himself as Jresh pulled him up. Just as the Human was about to regain his footing, the warrior offered a smile before offering his free hand in the form of a punch to the gut. His reflex was to bend forward, but was incapable as the Pureblood gripped the back of his head and pulled it back.

"You have no friends here!" Syrosk's raspy voice emanated from Jresh's mouth.

Lorrik grabbed and slapped at the arm tugging his hairs to no avail. Releasing his grip, the warrior shoved the inquisitor away with the flat of his boot. Lorrik shuffled off, taking disheveled steps with legs that threatened to collapse at any moment. He came to a halt. Steadied himself. Looked back to see Syrosk staring at him with his usual cold, eternal stare.

"Your mind has been compromised," Syrosk explained. "You cannot trust your senses. Your memories. Your feelings. Until you are able to fight… until you are able to gain control of your mind… there is nothing but hardship. Nothing but pain. Your opponent will turn good thoughts into bad ones. Bad ones into worse ones. Pain of mind will translate to pain of body. You die here…"

Syrosk's hand swung from his waist. From it extended the crimson blade of his lightsaber.

"I die for real…" Lorrik muttered, tired, exasperated.

"Precisely. And you've nothing to rely on but yourself."

Without another word, Syrosk charged his apprentice. Lorrik panicked, reaching for a weapon of his own. There was none. His training saber hadn't made the transition from his master's chambers to his mindscape, no matter how much he wished it had. Lorrik had no means of defending himself, and the Sith Lord was already bearing down upon him.

A wide swing of the blade. Lorrik ducked. Another. Lorrik ducked again. With each subsequent swing, the treacherous beam of death inched closer and closer. The dexterity of inquisitor's battered torso had reached its limits. The Human instead focused on running. His back toward his master, Lorrik began to run as fast as he could. Limbs flailing, lungs failing, the inquisitor didn't know where he was going or how long he could keep it up. The vast whiteness that surrounded him didn't alter with his movement. Checking his flank for the slightest of moments, Lorrik found himself without a pursuer. No one… nothing behind him.

When his eyes returned forward, they were blinded by the crimson light fast approaching his face. Sliding to the ground, Lorrik narrowly missed the attack of his materialized master. At the imposing figure's feet, Lorrik looked up with fear, like a bug beneath his master's crushing foot. Another swipe of the blade came down on him, carving an arc into the pristine ground as he rolled away. The inquisitor raised himself with haste, promptly returning to his retreat.

"You must take control!" Syrosk shouted at him. "You cannot take control by running away!"

Lorrik stopped dead in his tracks. He began to take in deep breaths. The expected pain in his expanding lungs never manifested. The taste of blood was gone from his mouth. His legs straightened. Then his torso. His stance was rigid. Adamant. Renewed. Slowly, he turned to face his master. The two figures stood, opposing one another. No words. No movements. Just two Sith. Two forces.

The Sith Lord stood with his saber at his side. Lorrik still possessed no weapon, but he exuded confidence. Syrosk charged at the inquisitor with one final maneuver. Raising his weapon high, the Sith Lord brought down the crimson blade with all his power. Lorrik didn't step aside. Didn't dodge. Instead, he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was greeted with a smiling master. Looking up, Lorrik saw his right hand raised above his head, gripping the blade of the ignited saber, impeding its path.

"A lightsaber is merely one tool in the Sith's arsenal…" Syrosk began.

"One just as potent, is the Sith's mind," Lorrik finished. Relinquishing his grip, Lorrik pulled his two hands in tightly, before shoving them forward, releasing a tremendous Force wave, sending his master flying backward. Just as he was about to land, however, Lorrik puzzled as Syrosk instead disappeared entirely without a trace. Desperately looking around, the inquisitor saw that he was completely alone. Surrounded by the vast nothingness alongside no one else. "Did I do it? Did I win?"

"You tell us."

A voice. A familiar voice. A much too familiar voice. Lorrik shot around to see two figures standing side by side. One garbed in white robes, the other in black, their faces concealed by raised hoods. The figures raised their heads and locked eyes with the inquisitor. Lorrik was starting himself in the eyes. Twice over.

"Who are you?" Lorrik asked.

"We are you," said the figures in unison.

"There are infinite paths open to you," said the white.

"And yet there are only two," said the black.

"The path of light."

"And the path of darkness."

"Though the paths may cross and intercede."

"They are wholly separate… and incompatible."

"The light burns the darkness."

"The darkness consumes the light."

"Two forces, locked in eternal conflict."

"If you welcome both, you will be destroyed."

"You must choose."

"You must choose."

"Submit to the light."

"Give in to the darkness."

"There is no good."

"No evil."

"Only the Force," the two said in unison. "We offer you the choice."

"Serve the Force. Serve the light."

"Serve the Force. Serve the darkness."

Lorrik's gaze darted between the two figures, staring them down with a harsh glare. "I am Sith. I do not serve the Force… the Force serves me!"

"That is not an option," the two declared. The two figures reached for their belts in unison, each unhooking a lightsaber. Light brandished a blue blade. Darkness a red one. "You must choose whom you serve."

"Whom I serve? You two obviously aren't me," Lorrik muttered, closing his eyes. With a deep breath Lorrik reached for his waist. Something new was there. Something metallic. Something personal. In one deft motion, Lorrik whipped the object from his belt and with a flick of his wrist the sound of a lightsaber igniting resonated in his ears. Opening his eyes, the sharp glow of the purple blade extended from his hand, bringing with it a continuous hum. "If you knew anything about me… you'd know don't have a high opinion of servitude."

Black made the first move. A quick thrust of the saber, intending to pierce Lorrik's heart. Deflected. White followed. A whirling strike, more flashy than effective. He locked sabers with the inquisitor as Black regained his footing. Electricity began to arc between the dark one's fingertips. He held his hand close before jutting out his clawed digits, a torrent of electric energy surging toward Lorrik. Shoving White back, the inquisitor intercepted the lightning with the tip of his saber. With a forceful push of his free hand, Lorrik sent the dark one backward, breaking the energetic chain. White was back, lashing out with a serene flurry of blows. The crashing sounds of saber on saber contact resonated throughout the void. Black recovered, and returned to the fray with a leaping charge.

The three figures combated, two against one. White striking with smooth, wide arcs and showy acrobatics. Black striking with quick, lethal jabs and furious movements. Lorrik countering every move with haste and utmost skill. Calm and collected. Fierce and determined. Attacking. Defending. In total control. With no progress being made, the two attackers backed off. The three had returned to simply staring at one another. The two figures disengaged, sheathing their lightsabers. Lorrik did the same. The duo wasn't finished, however. They each extended their right hands, and Lorrik felt an invisible Force weighing down on him, growing more powerful with each passing second.

It was too much. The combined efforts of the beings of light and darkness had overcome the inquisitor's defenses. A great weight beat down on his shoulders and eventually covered his entire body. His feet were firmly planted, but the Human's stance could remain adamant no longer. Slowly, he began to bend. Began to crumble under the pressure. Lower, and lower his head fell. His legs began to bend, until finally he was forced to his knees.

Lorrik's hands clenched into fists, then they violently snapped open. Thrusting his arms forward, his clawed hands reached out toward the two figures. Slowly, the beings of light and darkness found it harder to focus their energies upon Lorrik. Their outstretched hands rescinded, turning their attention instead to their own throats. Tugging at the collars of their robes, the two figures made gasping and choking motions. Lorrik rose from his knees, and the duo rose with him, their feet leaving the ground as they clutched at their necks. The inquisitor offered one final look into each of their eyes before he clenched his hands and sent the two figures crashing into the ground. Lorrik watched as the beings of light and darkness dissolved, leaving only their empty robes behind.

The inquisitor turned his head when the felt a hand being placed on his shoulder. It was the armored glove of Lord Syrosk. "That… is how you take control."

"Is that it?" Lorrik asked, catching his breath. "Our training over for the day?"

Syrosk let out one of his usual chortles. "Oh my, no. We've only been here roughly twenty seconds. In real world time anyway. We're not leaving until we've had a full day's training."