Chapter Ten: Choices
Lorrik and Jresh made their way toward the dueling circle. There were no words. No thoughts. Only the simple pattering of feet against solid stone. The time for doubts or regret had passed. All that mattered now was action. The last two apprentices walked side by side, their master's enduringly cold stare following them at every moment. The pair came to a stop a few meters away from the patient Sith Lord.
Even after three bouts, their master looked as ready as ever to continue. His stance was adamant, and his face was resolute. The students could only look upon their Lord with a newfound respect. He possessed a certain level of skill, and deemed them worthy of its witnessing. And now, it was Jresh and Lorrik's turn to witness it firsthand. Their master readied his lightsaber, and the apprentices did the same.
Jresh retrieved the black hilt from his belt. It was utterly smooth aside from the clip near its base. Without an external activator, it was the ultimate expression of a personalized weapon. Its usage was dependent on the user's ability to locate and telekinetically activate an internal mechanism. Jresh's lightsaber was simultaneously the embodiment of simplicity and complexity, something he himself set out to accomplish.
As his partner's crimson blade shined, the inquisitor readied his own weapon, producing the nonstandard blue beam. The pair was ready. At least, as ready as they could be. The Human and Pureblood adopted their battle stances, raising their guards and preparing their bodies and minds. Jresh kept a firm two-handed grip on his weapon, whilst Lorrik kept a free hand ready to channel the Force.
Both apprentices' saber styles focused on defense, but after seeing what their master was capable of, they knew that attempting to outlast the Sith Lord would prove challenging. But Sith aren't ones to shy away from a challenge. Lorrik could feel the subtle anticipation brewing within his partner. His wounds had only just healed, and his armor still bore the scratches and scars from his previous battle, but still he relished the challenge. He was confident, stalwart, and enduring. Things that in that moment, Lorrik wished he was.
"Begin," Syrosk rasped.
The warrior had not broken eye contact with his master since he first entered the dueling circle, and didn't break it as he charged forward. Syrosk didn't move as the warrior fast approached, except to slightly shift his right leg back, digging himself into the ground. The Pureblood tightened his grip, raising his blade high as the gap between him and his opponent closed. Jresh brought down a powerful diagonal slash, and Syrosk replied with its exact counter.
The two connected, and for a brief moment, everything stalled. The wind ceased to blow. Every particulate of dust previously kicked up froze in place. The scene was suspended, frozen in time. And for the briefest of moments, the mountaintop was locked in an expression of serenity. One swiftly broken by the ensuing chaos.
Radiating from where the two figures clashed, a powerful Force wave pushed outward, shaking the very ground that rest beneath them. The wave washed over the other students rattling their clothes and kicking dust into their eyes. Lorrik himself was momentarily stunned as he stood near the dueling circle's edge. He was astounded by his partner's power, his ability to channel the Force through martial combat. It wasn't a manifestation of wisdom, but the purest expression of a natural affinity. The body and spirit were not only connected, they were beginning to merge.
As evenly matched as the initial connection was, Syrosk would not let it remain that way for long. The Sith Lord pulled his blade back before delivering a series of powerful swings toward the Pureblood. The warrior defended, but the utter strength behind each swing began to drive him backward, step by step. Lorrik could sense his partner becoming overcome. He knew he had to act, regardless of his own well-being.
The inquisitor sought to intervene, reinforcing his companion's flank. With three blades of superheated plasma swinging in such close proximity, total situational awareness was required. Lorrik moved in alongside his partner, the two moving without a single misstep between them. The two ducked and weaved, lashing out at their master. He in turn, effortlessly defended against his two apprentices.
The Pureblood was adamant and precise. The Human, however, was hesitant, light on his feet. While he focused his blade toward Jresh, Syrosk turned his free hand toward the inquisitor. Lorrik swung his weapon, and his master snatched it with the Force. Rather than find his blow redirected, it was hyperextended, swinging fast and wide and out of his control. His partner was out of harm's way, but in his unwillingness to relinquish control of his saber, he followed the motion of his swing, stumbling away from the conflict. His back turned, Lorrik should have immediately remedied his stance, regained control, but he didn't. His altered state was becoming more apparent with each passing moment.
Jresh saw his partner stumble and moved to hold his opponent's attention, pressing the attack. The Pureblood was now on the offense, but he seemed to be making little progress in breaching the Sith Lord's defenses. Regardless of his capability, he knew he had to give Lorrik time to recover. He willingly thrust himself into harm's way, placing himself between his master and his partner.
The two melee combatants traded blows, the power behind each strike never lessening. Lorrik steadied himself as the exchange continued a few steps away. He thought to intercede, but was hesitant. The combined efforts of himself and his partner had been unable to surpass the skills of their master. The inquisitor had begun to believe his presence a hindrance rather than a boon. They had not achieved the same synchronization as Nesk and Vurt. They were not as evenly balanced as Isorr and Arlia. He could not summon lightning without utter concentration. He was beginning to question his reason for being there.
Syrosk swung his blade in a wide arc, coupling it with a powerful telekinetic wave. Jresh braced himself, blocking the blade with his own, but the following wave that washed over him shoved him back. Lorrik could only watch as his partner kept his composure even in the heat of battle against an insurmountable foe. He saw that the Pureblood was powerful, determined. Something he wasn't. Something he could never be. He had nothing to offer. He had no place amongst his betters. He was worthless.
Then, in the midst of battle, did the inquisitor truly take pause. This wasn't him. These weren't his thoughts. He had faced what ought to have been certain death, only to walk away unscathed. He had conquered doubt, conquered fear. He realized his mind wasn't only exhausted, it had been poisoned. He would have none of it.
Lorrik moved in to intercept his advancing master. Taking over for Jresh, the Human pressed the assault. His opponent was unshakable, but he didn't care. His mind was betraying him, so he had to abandon it. He let his spirit guide him, relying on nothing more than the purest instincts to drive his motions. The inquisitor faced off against his master, blade against blade, delivering a few strikes before backing away, allowing Jresh to take his place.
The two apprentices combatted with their master, trading blows, making full use of the dueling circle's area. The three figures darted across the mountaintop, the apprentices sharing their master's attention equally. Seconds passed. Then minutes. The two apprentices were fast approaching the amount of time Arlia and Isorr had lasted. And just like them, their bodies were reaching their limits. Jresh found himself driven back more and more by his master's strikes. Lorrik found himself barely able to escape the reach of his blade. But still they persisted, neither willing to concede.
Just as their bodies were reaching their limits, an odd opportunity had presented itself. Syrosk had set his eyes on the inquisitor, determining that it was time to bring the duel to a close. The Lord battered the inquisitor's guard, delivering a series of powerful strikes one right after another. As the Human was slowly driven back, he found his arms growing weaker, his legs following soon after. Soon, his stance crumbled and he found himself on his knees, struggling to defend against the assault beating down upon him.
But Syrosk's endeavor to end the duel was miscalculated. The Human should have been upon the ground by now, defeated. While he would not last much longer, he lasted just long enough to make his master regret turning his back on the warrior. The Pureblood would not idly sit back while his partner was in danger. Toward the Sith Lord's flank he charged, raising his saber high, ready to bring his cascading blade down upon his master.
Syrosk sensed the warrior's approach. Tearing his attention away to face the Pureblood, the Lord was shocked to see that he was already upon him. He couldn't raise his blade fast enough to intercept the saber heading straight for his face. He stumbled, falling backward toward the kneeling inquisitor. In a moment of desperation, Syrosk flung his hands outward without style or form, releasing a powerful telekinetic surge. The Force wave crashed into the warrior, sending him flying as the Sith Lord almost fell upon his other apprentice.
Lorrik rolled out of the way of his falling master, only to bear witness to his companion's treacherous flight. Time almost stood still as he saw his partner heading over the cliff's edge. The Pureblood could do nothing to prevent his inevitable departure from the mountain peak. But Lorrik could.
Still driven purely by instinct, Lorrik acted without thought, without hesitation. He only sought to pull his companion back to safety. Lorrik released his grip on his lightsaber, instead thrusting his right hand toward his partner, clutching and clawing at the air in front of him. He expected to get a telekinetic grip on Jresh's body, just enough of one to prevent him from going over the cliff. But it never manifested. Something else, however, did. A mysterious feeling was welling up within the inquisitor's body. Some cold, dark energy flowed through him, looking for some way to escape. The Human was trapped in the instant, no longer in control of his body.
His right hand extended, what emerged from his palm wasn't an invisible manifestation of the Force, but something much, much darker. Shadows given form began to spread out from his palm and encapsulate his hand. The flowing ichor pulsated and writhed, black tendrils rising from his flesh. Tenebrous ropes of dark side energy sprung from the inquisitor's hand, stretching across the stilled scene. The black whips surged forward, wrapping themselves around Jresh's left leg.
His companion now firmly within his grasp, Lorrik pulled his shadowed hand back, tugging upon the airborne Pureblood. The warrior's flight was halted, and his path redirected back toward the dueling circle. Jresh's body crashed onto the hard surface of the mountain peak, but it was a tolerable impact compared to what would have greeted him at the foot of the mountain.
The dark tendrils that connected the two apprentices released their grip and dissolved into a fine mist before disappearing completely. Only just now was Lorrik beginning to comprehend what exactly had taken place. He stared at his right hand, the shadows having receded. What they left in their place was pale flesh and a palm blackened, cracked, and charred. All of which was numb.
"It's over! The duel is off!" Syrosk declared with an unfamiliar volume and expressiveness. The Sith Lord's speech seemed almost worried. Regaining his senses, Lorrik looked up to see the other students rushing toward his fallen companion, Syrosk already kneeling by his side. Lorrik shook his head, trying to snap himself out of the stupor he found himself in.
The inquisitor raised himself from the ground and rushed toward Jresh, not even bothering to retrieve his weapon. As he approached, he heard soft whispers emanate from the students that circled around his partner. More predominantly, though, was the harsh sound of Jresh howling in pain. Lorrik closed in, pushing his way past the other apprentices, only to see his companion clutching at his leg. The eye was immediately drawn to the warrior's left foot.
There were several deep gashes where the dark tendrils had wrapped themselves. They had managed to encircle the Pureblood's foot, burn their way through the armored boot, and char the flesh beneath. The garish wounds he had inflicted upon his companion horrified the Human. His eyes began to dart up and down the warrior, from who he had never heard such cries before. His breaths began to quicken, and beads of sweat began to form upon his brow.
Lorrik lifted his gaze to see the other apprentices staring at him, each unsure of how to process what had transpired. A knot began to form within the inquisitor's stomach. A coldness began to brew within, a void taking hold of his insides. His senses began to fade. His body felt numb. The whispers grew quiet. His vision darkened. The Human thought to speak, but the only thing to flow from his mouth was blood.
And an instant later, he collapsed.
Nothing. Nothing as far as the eye could see. A blindingly white void. Lorrik lied upon his back, staring up into the nothingness. Unable to move. Unable to speak. He was numb. He was empty. He was nothing.
However, he was not alone. A dark figure stood over him, clad in black robes, a hood raised over his head. As the figure leaned over to reveal his face, it was the last person Lorrik expected. Himself. The dark caricature of himself. The two locked eyes, reveling in the silence. Lorrik was unable to object, to say or do anything. All he could do was wait for the figure to break his silence.
"I see you've finally made your choice," the dark figure said.
Lorrik wanted to get up, to look around for any signs of his light counterpart. But it was useless. All he could do was lie there whilst the figure walked away. Before he could further dwell on his situation, the surface beneath him began to stir. The subtle vibrations soon turned to a violent quake. The white surface he rested upon began to crack and warp. Suddenly, the floor collapsed, and the Human fell through, into the darkness that dwelled beneath it.
The infinite pool of blackness. Dark waters that clutched at the inquisitor, dragging him deeper and deeper. Encircling him and crushing him under its oppressive weight. As he sank ever deeper, the light that existed beyond the pool's surface began to fade, until there was nothing but blackness. He was blinded by the opaque waters, unable to move, unable to breath. But it mattered not. He was already dead.
But before the darkness could consume him, a light began to shine. Not one of hope. Not one of safety. The light began to expand, wiping away the smoky waters. It brought with it a vision. Lorrik no longer floated, but instead looked upon an expanding scene of destruction.
He stood amongst twisted metal, surrounded by towering buildings and a sky embroiled in flames. A proud figure walked amongst the countless fallen. A Sith. A single, solitary Sith. Human. Aged. Wrapped in black. Eyes of gold. Hands embracing an amulet that rest around his neck, glowing red and pulsing in sync with his own heart. A picture of destruction. Of victory. And just as soon as the image had formed, it had faded, the darkness clouding Lorrik's vision once again.
He was once more alone with the darkness. The unforgiving, crushing darkness. But just as he was about to succumb to the black waters, he felt something. Something strong enough to overcome the overwhelming numbness that prevailed in his body. The tight grip around his wrist. The soft whisper in his ear.
"Lorrik… Lorrik…"
It was the voice he was most familiar with. The one most pleasant to his ears. The one of his partner, his companion. He could hear him softly calling to him. Feel his presence. It was an uplifting feeling, one strong enough to conquer the oppressive darkness. No longer did he sink. No longer did he despair. No longer was he numb. No longer did he not feel safe.
Opening his eyes, Lorrik found himself resting in bed. An unfamiliar bed. One surrounded by various medical equipment and an immersive kolto tank. Various sensors monitored his life signs and relayed them back to him. He was alive, resting within an Academy medical bay. But more importantly, sitting to the left of his bed was Jresh. The Pureblood was asleep at his bedside, resting his head against the Human's leg, hands enveloping the Human's wrist.
Lorrik smiled and moved his free hand to stroke his companion's head, only to find it entirely wrapped in bandages. He stared at the white wrappings, subtly bending and articulating his fingers. Even as its parts moved, the hand felt cold and foreign. But he none the less was alive, with his partner by his side.
And in that moment, there was no place he'd rather be.