Alek felt a steady drip on the back of his head. Warm fluid soaked his hair until it began to flow down either side of his head in thick trails, gathering at the center of his prominent brow, the point of his nose, and both corners of his mouth. The foul, metallic taste of death that lingered on his tongue and lips stirred him from a deep unconsciousness.
His memory of recent events was less than clear but Alek soon recognized the distinct signs of a raging battle: troops shouting obscenity-laden orders at one another; the zap and sizzle of blaster fire, and the burnt smell that followed; the tremors he felt through the ground as enemy artillery sought a target; the thud when the body of yet another young soldier was thrown to the ground, lifeless.
'Enough,' Alek rasped through clenched teeth. He balled up his fists, placed them against the cold, blood-soaked earth, and pushed himself up off the ground and back onto his feet. Bodies rolled off of his back to rejoin the pile of dead that surrounded him, had encapsulated his helpless form and shielded him from the torrents of blaster fire that rained down from the Republic fortress above. The gruesome sight sharpened his resolve.
Alek started to climb the steep hill at a snail's pace. A dense layer of mist covered the battlefield before him. He recalled the malevolent fog had first appeared shortly before his troops crested this path and subsequently blanketed the entirety of his force. It appeared sentient, aiding the enemy's guerilla tactics, covering their attacks and retreats.
'No doubt the handiwork of the Jedi inside,' Alek thought as he carefully stepped over fallen Republic and Sith troops alike.
A blaster bolt shot out of the luminescent mist that Alek barely sidestepped. He paused his trek up the mountain, fingers clenched tight around the lightsaber clipped to his belt. The mist inched closer and closer, drenched in a dark power that hampered his ability to perceive anything beyond the white-grey curtain.
The fog spat another red bolt in his precise direction. Alek ignited his lightsaber, deflected the attack, and then the next two. He awaited more but a silent, still moment passed.
"For the Republic!"
A brave trooper charged through the safety of the curtain with his vibro-blade raised. Alek stood his ground, his lightsaber held in both hands, low and on his strong side. He brought his saber up and across in one simple, slashing motion. The trooper's primitive downward chop was parried. Alek followed through and the tip of his cobalt saber cut across the lower half of his enemy's face.
The trooper fell to the ground, jaw vaporized. Alek stumbled before collapsing to one knee and started to retch. He had participated in the most brutal battles of recent memory but often had to fight to retain his composure after harnessing the lethality of his lightsaber offensively. He wasn't convinced that he would ever be comfortable with the act.
Alek climbed back up to his feet. Lack of visibility paired with the stifling effect that the mist would have on his precognitive abilities meant that he would be vulnerable. He deactivated his lightsaber in order not to present himself as an easy target, and ventured into the mist.
Alek felt as if he had stepped into an alternate plane of existence. A blinding white light surrounded him. Any sense of direction he possessed beforehand was lost. All that he heard was an unnerving silence. Even his footsteps didn't produce a noise against the ground.
He spoke but didn't hear his voice. He reached out physically but felt nothing. He reached out to the Force, hoping that it could guide him through this void, but again felt nothing. Before panic could set in, Alek lowered himself down onto his knees and placed his lightsaber on the ground in front of him. He closed his eyes, brought his breathing under control, and focused on what he could feel.
The tightness of the material that encircled his legs, his chest, and his arms, segmented armor that encased vital areas in a layer of protection. Tight but unrestrictive. The layer of clothes under the armor, made from soft, crimson-colored fabric, utilizing a form-fitting design. The very ground beneath him, stony and unyielding.
He drew in a deep breath and held it. Sound started to filter into his senses once again. Voices, blaster-fire, explosions. He exhaled and opened his eyes. The mist had disappeared and taken with it the darkness that radiated from within.
Alek analyzed the battlefield. The terrain leveled off near the ancient fortress, which was carved into the face of a sheer cliff. Chaos reigned amongst the remnants of his men. They were scattered into small groups and had taken cover behind toppled statues and immense stones that littered the ground before the fortress. A long, narrow staircase led up to the entrance that was made easily defensible by crudely constructed battlements on either side of it.
Alek grabbed his lightsaber and climbed to his feet. He zeroed in on the position of his direct subordinate, who had taken cover behind the base of a towering obelisk. He clipped his lightsaber back onto his belt and broke into a sprint. His bruised and burning muscles urged him to stop as he covered the distance, narrowly dodging blaster bolts and thermal detonators. He slid through the dirt and thudded against the broad base of the statue.
The Commander whirled around with his blaster rifle aimed precisely. Relief washed over his face when he set eyes on Alek.
"Am I glad to see you, boss," he sighed. "Afraid we were gonna have to finish this one without you."
"I couldn't do that to you, Commander," Alek mumbled as he peeked out of cover. He noted the weak points of the battlements on either side of the staircase. Steady blaster fire forced him back behind cover. "Couldn't allow you to revel in all the glory. I recall how much you detest good attention."
The Commander swiveled out of cover and loosed a torrent of blaster fire that struck one battlement and sent the enemy down behind cover for a brief moment.
"Yeah, 'spose I do!"
"What's our situation?"
He rejoined Alek behind the obelisk and lowered his head.
"It's not lookin' good, boss." He turned away to hide his obvious grimace. He was failing to mask an utter hopelessness with mere frustration.
"Our forces are scattered, which they've knocked down by at least half so far. The enemy has the high ground, they know how to use it, and they're dug in." He threw his free hand up for emphasis. "You see what they got to work with. Couldn't pick a better place on this godforsaken planet to make a last stand. With these smaller cliffs all around us, there's no shot of getting air support in here to help. I'm thinking orbital bombardment's our only best chance here."
Alek seized him by the collar and spoke at a measured pace despite the maelstrom of emotions raging within him.
"This Jedi is an influence peddler with the power of a Master at his disposal. As long as we allow him to meditate in seclusion his people will rally against us no matter their number. We will be forced to tear this fortress down one piece at a time and butcher every last one of them." Alek released the Commander and peeked out of cover again. "Have our scouts located an alternate route inside yet?"
He untied the handkerchief that had hung around his neck and wiped the sweat and dirt from his face.
"Yeah, but it's on the opposite side. It would take hours to withdraw our forces and reposition. They could use that time to shore up their defenses even more. That route isn't ideal for the force that we'd need to take the fortress either."
"It only needs to be big enough for me." Alek stifled a grimace as another trooper tumbled down the hill past him. 'Not one more,' he thought. "Give the order to withdraw the men. We'll need them later. A scout can lead me to the path. I will find my way from there. When I near this back way, I will signal you so you can prepare our remaining force for another offensive."
"Yes, sir." He offered his handkerchief to Alek and gestured toward a jagged gash that traveled from his right eyebrow directly up into his hairline. "You should get that head wound taken care of first."
Alek winced, wiping it over the wound. It stung as he continued to dab at it.
"Much of the cut feels numb. How deep is it?"
"Uhhh," he stammered. "Let's just say you're gonna have another battle scar to show off."
"I'm not surprised." Alek fell back against the statue as blaster fire chipped away at the obelisk behind him. He clasped his hands together, packed the handkerchief inside, and squeezed firmly until blood began to trickle down into the soil. It gathered to form a pool of crimson at his feet. "Blood and scars are the currency of our realm, the price to be paid for change, in the world and within ourselves."