"We don't have a word for 'hero'. Being prepared to die for your family and friends, or what you hold dear, is a basic requirement for a Mando, so it's not worth a separate word. It's only cowards we had to find a special name for." - Baltan Carid, Mandalorian warrior
The Battle Cry, Hyperspace
Cazur stood alongside Jodihan and several other Mandalorians on the bridge of the Battle Cry. Chiefly among these others was a Mando in crimson and black armor named Lannic, an olive-skinned human with a severe countenance that belied their usually easy going nature. They were in their mid-forties, widely regarded as the de facto successor to Jodihan, though the Clan Chief had not named them as such yet. By Mharal customs, a successor could not be officially named until the current Chieftain was stepping down. Such an announcement would be sent through the Clan, giving any challengers the chance to fight for the claim.
Lannic and Cazur did not exactly get along. The primary driver behind this state of affairs was the Kath Hound itself. Lannic believed they should have inherited that ship that was so central to the Clan's identity, perhaps as much as the Battle Cry was. Conjoined to that was some believing Cazur's ownership of it marked him, not Lannic, as Jodihan's choice of successor. Cazur knew his mother better than that.
The Battle Cry's bridge was the most minimalist part of the ship, its primary decorative conceit being that someone had replaced all the buttons and switches with pearlescent plastic, making the room seem to shimmer as one moved through it.
The gathered members of Clan Mharal were those who claimed captaincy of the Clan's numerous smaller ships, save for Zej, who stood beside Jodihan. It was not some statement of honor or favor on the newly minted Mharal. Zej simply had an important role to play in what was about to happen.
The comm officer on the bridge gave a thumbs up. The desired call was going through. A short time later, a full-body hologram appeared in the air in the bridge's center. It was a portly twi'lek man in voluminous robes, his hands clasped before him.
"Who the hell are…?" The twi'lek man peered, as if disbelieving. "Blood of my forebearers. Lady Zejephone Alacra. This is unexpected." Fear coursed visibly through him.
"Zejephone Mharal." Zej corrected him. "I have given up my claims, Lord Akko. I am Mandalorian now."
Lord Akko Tefsadur blinked rapidly, like he had just witnessed a rancor doing a song and dance routine. "That would explain all the Mandos around you, then. This begs the obvious question of why you're contacting me. Surely it's not on behalf of the Duke."
"The opposite, in fact." Zej said. "I know you've had your eyes on my family's holdings for a long time."
"You are mistaken…", Akko began with a laugh and a waved hand.
"Don't insult my intelligence, Akko." Zej snapped. "Pay attention and you stand to get exactly what you want."
Akko cleared his throat, annoyance battling curiosity in his face.
"I know you have spies in my brother's palace. In three days' time, you will tell them to commit whatever sabotage they can. After we have done what we intend to do, there will be no one left in the Alacra line, and you will be in the perfect position to double your holdings. Do you follow me?" Zej asked.
"Sounds rather too good to be true, frankly. What do you get out of it?" Akko asked.
"My brother dead, and whatever treasures we can carry out." Zej answered.
"Hmm." Akko rumbled, idly adjusting a lekku. "An…interesting proposition. One the Ryloth Council will not like."
Zej scoffed. "Please. You and I both know they've been completely toothless since the Clone Wars, nevermind Imperial occupation and independence. And after this, you'll have all the credits you need to bribe the ones who pretend to care."
"Hmm." Akko repeated the noise, holding his chin. "I must admit, that upstart's removal would be a boon."
"You won't have an opportunity like this fall into your lap again." Zej said.
"I will tell my people to disable the Alacra Palace's sensor array. Is this acceptable?" Akko asked.
"Perfectly." Zej said.
"And, naturally, this conversation never happened, if you fail." Akko added.
"Naturally." Zej said.
"Very well. Good day, then." Akko said.
The connection ended.
A long breath escaped Zej as she looked around at her new Clan. Cazur smiled at her.
"That went well." The zabrak said.
"Which means the easy part is done." Jodihan said. "Now we start planning."
Geosynchronous Low Orbit above Alacra Palace, Ryloth
"What are these weapons before you?" Jodihan asked, her voice echoing through the Battle Cry's cargo hold.
Cazur gave the reply from where he knelt before his gear and helm. As he did, all the voices of his Clan answered with him. Zej was right beside him, as were Stroyh, Hylt, and Kavala. All of Mharal were on their knees in the hold, facing Jodihan. There were a dozen more Mandos standing at the edge of the room, these wearing the crest of a shield crossed by two sniper rifles rather than the rampant kath hound that was Mharal's crest. It was Valt and the help he promised to bring from Clan Jyttan.
"They are the tools of my calling." The Clan answered Jodihan in scores of voices.
"What is the calling before you?"
"To do my duty to kin, Clan, and comrades."
"What is the duty before you?"
"To fight so kin need not, to bleed so Clan need not, to die so comrades need not."
The hold filled with the sound of guns being tucked away, snaps being fastened, belts being tightened, as the warriors of Clan Mharal geared up. Cazur saw Zej take up her new beskad, this one made of beskar, and hold it reverently for a few seconds before buckling the scabbard around her waist.
One by one, the Mandalorians stood, their helmets in hand.
"Skin of steel, heart of iron." Jodihan declared.
"Mharal, Our Mother." Came the reply.
The Mandos put their helmets on. Zej's lekku went into flexible mesh sheathes that extended from the back of her helmet.
With the ritual complete, Jodihan gave the command, "to your stations, everyone. It's time to show the Galaxy what happens when you mess with Clan Mharal."
The lower hold became a flurry of motion. Cazur headed for the docking link where the Kath Hound was still attached to the Battle Cry, followed by his crew, as well as Jodihan. As Cazur neared the exit of the hold, he turned to Valt and raised a fist in salute.
"You honor us, ner vod." Cazur said to the Jyttan.
Valt returned the gesture. "Just need to make sure you Mharals remember where you came from is all!"
Several people who heard that laughed, Cazur included. Valt and his team would be returning to his YT-1300 freighter to join in the assault.
As Cazur walked down the hallway leading away from the hold, he felt something against his right hand. A moment later, Zej's fingers were laced with his. Cazur thanked the long train of fate and circumstance that had led to him walking hand in hand with her. Now that he thought about it, it had begun aboard a train, hadn't it?
"You're sure about this, Jod'buir?" Stroyh asked behind Cazur.
"That was my ship before you were even a glimmer in however many of your father's eyes, Stro'ika." The Chieftain retorted. "Manda knows I'm not much good in a firefight anymore, but I'll be damned if I don't at least ride my old steed into battle one last time."
The fact that Jodihan had essentially just admitted she was going to be stepping down soon was not lost on any member of the Kath Hound's crew, but that would be an issue for later.
"Ner kar'ta?" Zej said on a private comm channel to Cazur. My soul?
"Yes, cyar'ika?" Cazur asked, feeling an upswing of happiness at being referred to in such a way by Zej.
"Have you heard of Galatea?" Zej asked.
"Uhm…no, can't say I have." Cazur admitted.
"It's a planet in the Mid Rim. Tidally locked to the system's star. The habitable ring is temperate year round and there's lots of beaches and…well a lot of other things to do." Zej was beginning to sound like she was feeling a little awkward.
Cazur cocked his head to the side. "Ok…?" He prompted her.
"I was hoping, once this was over, that we could go there for a few days. Maybe a week. Just the two of us." Zej suggested, sounding hopeful.
"Oh. I see." Cazur didn't really need to think that over. "That sounds just about perfect, if I'm honest."
"Really?" Zej was both excited and surprised.
"Really. Hell, I'd say longer than a week. We could finally get around to dancing like we've been meaning to. I think we both need it. Hylt, Stroyh, and Kavala could use some time away from things as well, I think." Cazur said. We all will after today, I have a feeling.
Zej squeezed his hand, practically bouncing as she walked. "I'll hold you to that."
"You seem awfully…upbeat, considering we're about to invade your old home and possibly kill your brother. Not that I'm saying that's bad. I'm just surprised." Cazur said.
"Because one way or another, I'll finally have an ending to things today." Zej replied. "I don't have the words to tell you how liberating that feels."
"Then I guess I'll just have to do my damndest to make sure it's a good ending, then." Cazur said.
"It will be. I know it will." Zej said.
They reached the hatch that led down into the Kath Hound. One by one they entered the ship, Jodihan dropping in last, sealing the hatches behind them. She reached the bottom of the ladder, looked down the spinal hall of the Kath Hound, and drew in a deep, satisfied breath that hissed out of her helmet's speaker.
"It's good to be home." The togorian said. "And you're keeping the place clean. Good. I'll assume that's Hy'ika's doing. I don't trust the rest of you."
"I do what I can to keep them in line, ner buir." Hylt said.
"You still have the heap of bolts and scrap around?" Jodihan asked as she strode towards the cockpit.
"Bucket is not a heap of nuts and bolts, Jod'buir!" Kavala said defensively. "I've put a lot of work into that droid, you know."
Jodihan laughed, clapping Kavala on the shoulder. "Ah, I still remember dragging that thing aboard. I was planning on trying to convert the wrist blaster and rocket launcher into bracer-mounts. Turns out that was a lot more work than I felt like putting in."
Nobody told her they'd all heard that story a dozen or so times by that point.
"Alright, get down to the ramp, you lot. Make Mharal proud out there." Jodihan ordered. She went into the cockpit and sat down in the pilot's seat. Cazur heard Stroyh groan as Mharal adjusted the seat's position.
"Gonna take me forever to get it back to where I like it…", the volpai complained under his breath.
"You'll live. Get moving." Cazur said, pushing his Clan-brother along. Most of the five-Mando squad went down into the lower hold. Kavala went to wake bucket. There would be no one in the turrets this time around. The possibility of hitting friendlies in the fight that was to come was too great.
The plan was simple enough, in essence. Clan Mharal's warriors would mostly strike from above, descending on jetpacks amid the blackout in Alacra Palace's sensors. This surprise attack from scores of Mandalorian warriors would deliver a shock and awe strike that would put the defenders on the back foot. Meanwhile, the dozen warriors of Clan Jyttan would infiltrate the palace alongside an equal number of Mharal, all entering through a secret escape tunnel revealed to them by Zej. They would collapse the tunnel to prevent Zan or Kroeth from fleeing, then hit Zan's fighters while they were dealing with the aerial attackers.
As Cazur waited by the back ramp, he recalled what Jodihan had said to him when he'd suggested that, perhaps, they were going overboard, that this was too great a risk for the killing of a single dar'manda.
Caz'ika. This isn't about Kroeth. Not entirely. Not really. If some second-rate crime boss from Ryloth's armpit can openly threaten to hunt us all down and get away with it, what does that tell everyone in the Outer Rim about Clan Mharal, about all Mandalorians? No. The Clan needs this, Caz'ika. Our people need this. The Galaxy needs a reminder of what Mandalorians can do. Our Clan needs to remember what we really are. Our comeback isn't going to be made with strong words and sincere hopes. The only way we rise again is the warrior's way. So don't take any blame for this onto yourself; you or Zejephone. If it wasn't here, it was going to be somewhere else. This is just a blessed excuse.
The warrior's way was all Cazur had ever known. He had been shaped and molded across his twenty-eight years to see the path ahead and chart his course through it by the edge of a beskad and the bolt of a blaster. Even the noble aims of the Mharins, to fight so others need not, were still dedication to violence. How did that shade the morality of what they did now? How many who were about to die fought for Zan due to coercion or because it was all that stood between them and starvation on an unstable, independent Ryloth?
I could ask myself the same thing about most of the people I've fought. Cazur mused. Mharal herself said this was a Galaxy of red tooth and claw. To search for moral high ground in battle is pointless. Act with honor and protect those you care about. That's all you can do. Except for Imperials. Killing them is always a moral high ground.
The clanking footsteps of Bucket entering the room gave them all pause. The droid was mostly the same as usual, except for its feet and lower legs were larger now.
"This unit is acting under duress, for the record." It said.
"Duly noted." Kavala said.
"Droids were not made to fly." Bucket complained further.
"Good thing you won't be flying, then." Kavala said. "Just think of all the blood you're about to spill."
"Why do you think this unit agreed to come with you?" Bucket asked rhetorically.
Others began filtering into the Kath Hound's hold; Mharal Mando'ade from across the breadth of Galactic sapient ancestries, a rainbow of colors both bright and dull. Chatter filled the room; boasts and teasing, promises and well-wishes. Cazur reveled in the scene. It had been far too long since he had gone into battle alongside his Clan. He realized Jodihan was right. The Clan did need this. Cazur needed this.
The Kath Hound lurched as it detached from the Battle Cry. Several others did, too, including Lannic's Void Muse and Valt's Stormbringer. As one, they turned for Ryloth.
The twi'lek homeworld was mostly beige-orange dust and dark brown rock from orbit. Golden-brown clouds shrouded the surface in various places. Orbital traffic was fairly heavy as far as the Outer Rim went. There was no comm hail from the surface. That would have been the purview of Zan's people. Either the sensors were down as Akko promised, or Zanebos knew they were coming and was luring the Mandalorians into a trap.
The Kath Hound rumbled as it entered Ryloth's atmosphere. Cazur gripped his flechette launcher. He imagined the Intimidator champing at the bit like a kath hound about to be let off the leash.
"Two minutes." Jodihan informed them.
Cazur took a deep breath. The controls for his jetpack appeared on his HUD. He opened a channel with only his crew.
"Whatever happens down there, I'm proud of all of you." Cazur said.
"Stars, you sound old." Stroyh muttered.
"Should I call you Caz'buir?" Kavala asked.
"Swear I saw some grey in his beard when he put his helmet on." Stroyh went on.
"Somehow I think he's less proud now." Hylt said.
They all laughed, Cazur included. He looked over at Zej, wishing he could see her face one last time.
"Thank you. All of you. For everything." The twi'lek said. "Let's show them the price of crossing Clan Mharal."
"Ke nu'jurkadir sha aliit'Mharal!" Cazur clanked his breastplate. You don't fuck with Clan Mharal!
Cazur had said that on an open channel, and was rewarded with a round of, "OYA!"
"Already fitting right in, Zej'vod." Hylt chuckled. "Well, not as if you weren't already."
"Ten seconds." Jodihan warned.
Stroyh opened the ramp. Air came rushing in.
"Hell is high and heaven's low, so light up packs and down we go." The voplai said, standing at the top of the ramp.
"Go!" Jodihan commanded, the Kath Hound decelerating.
Cazur ran forward, past Stroyh, leaping out into open air. One by one, in rapid succession, the warriors of Clan Mharal jumped out of the Kath Hound. Below him, the ochre expanse Ryloth stretched out in every direction, great expanses of umber basalt and khaki sand appearing as great waves in a dun sea. Directly below them was Alacra Palace.
The estate of Zej's ancestors was something between a square and a circle, with four distinct outer walls, but these were bowed outward into the illusion of a fully round structure. Two of its four sides bordered sheer dropoffs of hundreds of feet, while the other two faced gently rising slopes, one of which had a road cutting through it and leading to a front gate.
As Cazur free-fell, he angled himself to be above the palace. He did not look up to see if his kinfolk were following him, knowing full well they would be. The expected barrage of fire from the palace did not come. It was odd, really. There had been a time when this act terrified Cazur. Now, as he reached terminal velocity, Cazur was casually observing the landing zone with little worry for the landing ahead. Either his jetpack would properly slow his fall and all would be well, or it wouldn't, and he'd not have much of anything to worry about for very long.
Blaster bolts from small arms started tracing paths through the air. Cazur trusted the speed of the fall and his beskar'gam to guard him, not altering his path. Letting out a long breath, he shifted, activating his jetpack. The thrusters hissed into life and Cazur jerked against the harness as his fall was arrested. Rather than land, he twisted and descended sharply, skimming over one of the cliffside walls. Twi'lek guards in livery of brown and yellow frantically fired into the air. Cazur aimed his Intimidator at one of them and double-tapped the trigger. Stone splintered by the feet of one target at the first shot, but the second opened a fist-sized hole in the chest of one twi'lek, the tiny blades of the flechette launcher exploding from his back in a crimson shower. The head of Cazur's second target was reduced to mist by his third shot.
The Mandalorians swarmed in a well-established attack pattern, flitting to and fro as they first hosed the walls of the Palace to clear it of defenders. This was excepting Bucket, who used the jets newly implanted in his feet to descend into the courtyard and begin his slaughter of Alacra Palace's defenders. When the last of them had fallen or fled into the interior of the complex, the warriors of Clan Mharal started landing to make a concerted push. As Cazur watched, Kavala landed boot first on a guard, firing her carbine into the grounded foe. Hylt, Zej, and Stroyh all landed atop the wall near him, firing down into the courtyard below as Alacra house guards fled indoors, leaving behind no small number of their dead.
This had been the easy part. It was going to be the room-by-room, hall-by-hall push into the Palace proper that was going to be the real issue. Who knew what defenses Zanebos had inside?
"All forces!" Lannic's voice came over the comms. They were in overall command of the ground assault. "Push into the palace. Watch for noncombatants."
Cazur turned off his jetpack controls, storming ahead. He could only hope he was the first to find Kroeth.
Alacra Palace, Ryloth
The slaves of Alacra Palace well knew to be as far out of their master's way as was possible when he was in one of his rages. This fury surpassed even when he had learned of the loss of both the Jedi holocron and his sister on Velstrac. As such, even the attendant slaves that followed Zan around the palace to see to his every whim seemed to only be half present, trying to will themselves into nonexistence as their master strode through the castle, awkward in his gaudy battle armor that he had just donned.
Zanebos spewed a vitriolic string of curses, suggesting Zejephone was not his sister, but all manner of adopted obscenities. He waved an ornate blaster about, the stock and body of which were crafted from the bones of a now extinct megafauna from Felucia. Kroeth followed in his wake, weathering the storm. It was the impotent tantrum of someone who was used to getting their way.
"This is your damned fault, Kroeth! Your damned fault!" Zanebos shifted the focus of his ire as they strode down a dark hallway. "I never should have brought you on."
"Threatening to hunt down and kill an entire Mandalorian Clan might have also had something to do with it." Kroeth said.
Zanebos stopped and pointed his blaster at Kroeth. The half-dozen guards around the Duke of Dawn did the same. It was the third time that had happened today.
"You're going to get out there, 'Mando.' Go and fight. Do what I'm paying you to do. It's you they're after. I won't have you drawing them to me by clinging to my fucking coattails, you understand?" Zanebos snarled.
Kroeth laughed contemptuously. "As you command." He turned around and walked away, not caring if they shot him in the back. He wasn't even sure where Zanebos was going. The palace didn't have a proper safe room or anything like that.
"And someone activate the damned droids!" Zanebos's voice echoed.
The dar'manda sighed as he walked. He was tired. Going solo hadn't worked. Putting together his own outfit hadn't worked. Throwing in his lot with others hadn't worked. Running, hiding, fighting, none of it mattered. There was no point to any of it. If it was all going to lead him to the same place, well, why bother trying to avoid it any longer?
Kroeth took up a particular weapon. Far from hi-tech, it was a simple, single-shot tube. It was no longer about winning. It was just a matter of taking as many members of his traitorous Clan with him as he could. If his attempt to cure a poison in Mharal's heart would be so scorned, a price would be paid before he died.
Following the sounds of fighting, Kroeth moved through the chambers and halls of Alacra Palace. They were usually full of debauched guests and abused slaves, but the overstuffed cushions and tacky furniture were all empty, the countless water pipes, bottles of spirits, and heart-stopping foods left unattended. The distractions had worked on Kroeth himself, for a time, but just like everything else, the past had caught up with him.
There was little ceremony to his first kill. Kroeth saw a palace guard gunned down as her squad tried to fall back to a more defensible position. He raised his weapon and fired. A Mandalorian in burgundy armor was struck in the belly. The plasma shell's beak punched partway through her breastplate, then detonated, consuming the Mando's torso in a white-green star. Kroeth ducked into cover, loading another shell as blasters raked the doorway he'd ducked into. The house guards rallied to him, unleashing hell down the hall at the invaders. Kroeth wanted to tell them they were idiots to be bothering. It didn't matter, though, did it?
Kroeth leaned out, firing again. His next shot hit a target in the left hip. Their leg and abdomen were ruined, the plasma detonation sending the ruined body across the hallway to slam into the wall.
Reloading, Kroeth realized more than one of the house guards was already down. They weren't ready for this kind of fight. The dar'manda only had so many plasma shells.
Without a word, Kroeth fell back, leaving the hapless guard squad to cover for him. He left a few mines in his wake, just to give the Mandalorians something to think about.
"You damned Mharins want to bleed for someone else? Let me oblige you." Kroeth growled as he planned his next ambush.
Zej's beskad claimed its first victim. She drew the short saber from the back of the man she had snuck up on. Even to her practiced hand, the way the beskar blade slipped into the twi'lek's back was almost uncanny. The man had been cowering in a side room, trying to hide from the fight. Zej could not bring herself to mourn any of the dead guards. Zan had replaced every individual of honor and integrity when he took over the family. They were just as much bandits and slavers as Zan, and had gladly laughed along with her brother as Zej had been abused. Now all would die. It filled her with joyful catharsis.
"We're clear. Move up." Zej said, waving her squad forward. They emerged from the secret passage behind her. Every palace on Ryloth was riddled with such passages. Clandestine meetings and internal espionage were a mainstay of twi'lek politics for as long as anyone could remember, and such passages facilitated that.
Cazur, Kavala, Hylt, and Stroyh gathered around her.
"Where will Zan be?" Cazur asked.
"He's a coward. Instinct will drive him to where he feels safest. He'll head underground with the intention of reaching his escape passage. When he realizes it has been sealed and yet more of us are in his way…I can't be sure after that." Zej admitted.
"Then we head there before he can come up with something else." Cazur said. "Where next, cyar'ika?"
Zej smiled in spite of everything. It was hardly the proper time or place for pet names, but she didn't care.
"Left out of this room. The escape tunnel is in the back of an unused cell in one of the slave blocks." Zej answered.
The side room the secret passage opened into was a disused storage space holding only dust and rubbish. It was down in the lower levels, near where the slave "quarters" were. They were just above the lowest area of Alacra Palace, which was the family crypts.
A great explosion rocked the entire structure. Those would be the thermal charges set by Valt's Jyttan Clanfolk.
"Escape passage blocked. Pushing in." Valt reported.
"Alert to all units: just ran into some clankers. B2 units. Looks like Clone War era salvage." Lannic comm'd.
"Haar'chak." Hylt cursed.
"I…I didn't know…" Zej stammered.
"It's alright, cyar'ika. It's not your fault. We'll take care of it." Cazur promised her. "Bucket. Lead the way. Greet the family for us."
"Happily." The droid said, its deflector shield igniting from its wrist. Bucket's shoulder mounted weapons traced the hallway back and forth. The passages of even the upper levels had a dark, brooding feeling to them, but down here it was positively oppressive. Acoustics made the sounds of fighting echo wildly.
Zej could feel some of that old dread creeping through her now. It was as if, at any moment, her squad was going to disappear, turning out to have been nothing but a dream all along. Would she awake locked in her tiny room once again, a fist hammering on the door, Zan's slurred voice informing her someone else had to die?
Zej shook the thoughts away. No. The past months were not a dream. She knew this, felt it in her soul every time she heard a footfall from the Kath Hound's crew behind her.
"Keep your eyes open. We just lost someone to a mine." Lannic warned on the comms. "Someone's got a grenade launcher with plasma shells, too."
"Kroeth." Cazur growled. "Only he'd be carrying Mando-killers without even knowing we were coming."
Zej stopped them at a sharp right turn in the hallway, peering around the corner. Rhythmic steps clued her into what lay ahead before she saw it.
B2s. Super Battle Droids. The hunchback-looking machines marched in echelon, wrist blasters raised.
"Droids." Zej warned. She looked around. "I know a way around them. We're almost to the slave blocks."
"We can't leave those clankers at our backs, let alone for them to run into other Clan warriors." Hylt said.
"This unit will show you a clanker…" Bucket grumbled.
"Stroyh and I will stay here with Bucket and keep their attention. Zej'vod, take Caz and Kav around." Hylt said, ignoring the droid.
A stone settled in Zej's gut. She didn't want to do this, but it was the pragmatic choice. Besides, it wasn't as if they were setting themselves up for a last stand. Hylt, Stroyh, and Bucket could easily pull a fighting retreat down the hall.
"Alright. Jate'aka, kote parjai, ner vode." Zej bid them. To a good fight and glorious victory, my comrades.
"Oya." Hylt agreed, preparing her rifle.
"Yes, yes, very touching." Stroyh grunted, tossing a grenade around the corner. "On your way then, eh?"
Zej could hear a wink in the volpai's voice as the grenade detonated and droids called out damage.
"Come on. This way." Zej told Cazur and Kavala.
They went back the way they'd come a short distance, following Zej into a chamber with a large, open holes in the floor that were lined with rusting metal. They ran along both walls. The far wall had a few large casks laid on their sides.
"Used to be where my grandparents aged spirits." Zej explained. She had only the barest memory of the smell of fruit and fermentation.
"Of all the things you'd think a crime boss would maintain." Kavala noted.
Zej scoffed. "Zan tried. Couldn't replicate the recipes. His own brews were even worse."
Zej approached the far right cask, turning the hand crank in its surface not like a latch or faucet, but a safe's dial. After several moments, tumblers fell into place and Zej swung the front of the cask open. A short tunnel full of cobwebs faced them.
The three Mandos entered the tunnel and proceeded to the far end, where Zej opened a hatch the led into a small, bare room with shackles and fetters hanging from the walls.
"It will only get worse from here." Zej cautioned them as they left the unused cell.
That room led out into a broad, low-ceilinged chamber of many pillars. Interspersed between the pillars were what could only be devices of torture; tables with straps for holding down limbs, small cages that would keep the occupant horribly contorted, and other devices best left undescribed. Meanwhile, in the walls of the chamber were the cells that held most of the Alacra Palace's slaves when they weren't being abused, overworked, or sold. Voices were crying, begging, and arguing. Among the voices, she heard the nasally whine of Zanebos.
Zej motioned for her friends to follow her, but suddenly felt a great weight tackle her to the floor. Something whizzed overhead, then exploded with viridian light, blowing apart a torture wrack. Kavala's carbine opened up and something was struck.
"Dammit!" Someone cursed. It was Kroeth, standing in the door that led into the room. A spot was rapidly cooling on his breastplate. Kroeth tossed aside the now ruined grenade launcher he held as he spun and fled.
"I'll handle Zan. Take Kavala. Kill the dar'manda." Zej said quickly.
Cazur didn't hesitate. He nodded sharply as he helped Zej to her feet.
"Mharal's skill go with you, cyar'ika." The zabrak said in parting, motioning for Kavala to follow him.
"Kick his ass, Zej'vod!" Kavala added.
"Who's there?! Show yourself!" Zan's voice echoed. A few badly aimed blaster bolts sparked off the floor and ceiling of the chamber. "Don't just stand there, you fucking cowards, go check it out!"
Zej let out a long breath through her nose. Now was not the time for rash action. Here, in this dark place of pillars and other obstructions, was an opportunity. Zan had paid handsomely to have Zej crafted into what she had become. Now, back where it all began, she would turn those skills against the one responsible for them.
She holstered her blaster, fingers flexing on the hilt of her beskad, then got into motion. It was folly to wait in one place and allow them to cordon her off. So, Zej stepped nimbly, weaving between pillars, using her visor's thermal imaging to track the bright orange splotches that were her targets through the background indigo. She counted a half-dozen, with the form that had to be Zan further back, flanked by two more. Far from insurmountable odds.
Zej could see more thermal shapes beyond the bars of many of the cells. Anger coiled within her as she saw a form that could only be a young child completely alone in one cell. Zej knew her brother all too well. Keep the young slaves by themselves, teach them to only know servitude through deprivation, abuse, and isolation. Zej grit her teeth. No. She had to maintain her composure. Patience and playing the part of the hunter would grant her victory here, not rash action. She just needed…
There. One of the guards was slightly away from the others, trying to circle around a pillar to flank where the brief exchange with Kroeth had occurred. Zej skirted around the pillar to come up behind the guard. She struck in mechanical, well-practiced fashion. Stab in the side of the neck, saw outward, be gone before the body falls.
The guard falling to the floor caused the others to cry out. The nearest one reached the spot of the attack only to find the fallen twi'lek holding his throat, feet kicking in his death throes. It probably wasn't noticed that the victim was missing a charge pack for his blaster.
"Someone got Hul!" The guard who found the victim called out as the others gathered around.
"I'm home now, Zan. It's this what you wanted?" Zej asked, trusting the acoustics and her movement to hide her.
Shots sprayed where the question had come from, hitting only air and masonry.
"Zej?" Zan fairly squeaked, his feet scuffing the floor as he shifted suddenly. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"
But she didn't answer. She paused where she was, waiting.
"Zej!" Zan bellowed. "Come out, you backstabbing bitch! Show yourself!"
Is this how he always sounded? Zej wondered. A child throwing a tantrum?
Zej still didn't answer. She merely watched, waiting for her chance to strike, her brother's furious cries only serving to mask her movements even more. The guards weren't entirely foolish. They were staying close now, trying to watch each others' backs. Unfortunately for them, that didn't save them.
A pair were walking almost back to back, slow and steady. Zej used her tried and true distraction, tossing the charge pack over the pair's heads. When it clacked against the floor they swiveled, immediately firing. Zej ran up on them, stabbing one in the heart from behind, then immediately hamstringing the other before fading away. The wounded guard's screams filled the chamber.
Three down. Zej thought as Zan started unleashing another tirade of words and blaster shots in her direction. A good start.
Cazur and Kavala caught another glimpse of silver beskar'gam as a burst of blaster shots forced them to stop from moving through a doorway. Cazur paused, waiting before charging in.
They ran through a room full of stored food; sacks of grain, jars of seasoning, crates of produce. There was a lift off to one side that Cazur guessed led up to the kitchens. However, what drew Cazur's attention was the solid metal door of a freezer that hung open with fog billowing out of it. Sides of meat were hanging on hooks from the ceiling.
Cazur paused. It was obvious what Kroeth wanted. Last time Cazur confronted him, he made the mistake of attacking blindly, desiring to feel his beskad carving the life from the dar'manda. He wouldn't let that happen this time.
Cazur offered his flechette launcher to Kavala. "Kav'vod. Take this. Don't let him get around me, alright? If we both go in, he might be able to take us both in a rush in those close quarters. Get out of sight. I'll contact you on the comms when I'm coming out. If you don't hear me, shoot without question, you understand?"
"I don't like this." Kavala said, accepting the Intimidator. It might not be able to penetrate beskar, but it used kinetic energy rather than thermal in its projectiles. A fully-automatic burst from that thing would be more than enough, especially if Cazur managed to injure Kroeth.
"I know. But this is the best way to make sure he doesn't escape." Cazur said. He drew his beskad. "I know I said it already, but I mean it, Kav'vod. I'm proud to see the Mando you've become."
"And it's been my honor to be taught by you. Now get in there and kill that bastard before I do it for you." Kavala said, gesturing with the flechette launcher.
Cazur nodded, then proceeded towards the freezer. Why would Kroeth corner himself like this? Cazur ran through several scenarios, from another secret passage within to a stockpile of munitions. He settled on one the most obvious answer, though; Kroeth knew he was going to die. He just wanted to take Cazur with him.
Cazur flicked on a light switch outside the freezer, entering with his weapon held close to his body. Several dozen slabs of frozen meat hung close together, while yet more provisions were stocked on shelves on the walls. He itched to draw his plasma pistol, but hitting a target at such close range could end up slagging his own armor if he wasn't careful.
"Hiding in a freezer? Is that what you've been reduced to, dar'manda?" Cazur asked as the cold began to seep into him.
"It's not as if my end can be anymore shameful, Caz'vod. I'm a dead man, one way or another. Why bother with pretense?" Was the response.
Cazur had to admit to himself that he couldn't refute that idea. He slowly shoved the hanging slabs of meat aside, waiting for another glimpse of silver to begin his attack.
"If that's how you feel, why not just give up? Surrender? If you're a dead man, I can make it painless." Cazur said.
"That's the thing. I don't want it to be painless. Not for me, and certainly not for you. You've hounded me down this far. I'll make you earn it." Kroeth responded.
Cazur was trying to pinpoint where exactly his erstwhile Clan-brother's voice was coming from. He moved aside the next slab, tensing as he, indeed, saw a flash of silver…
…that was joined by green lights suddenly turning red.
With a curse, Cazur hurled himself to the floor as the mine went off. The zabrak rolled, his ears ringing at the detonation in the confined space, some of the hanging sides of meat falling like guillotines. The densely packed, frozen slabs had been a blessing in disguise, absorbing much of the shock and the shrapnel. Even so, Cazur felt pain and hot blood in a few places where his armor didn't cover. Minor injuries, it seemed, for Cazur's ability to move didn't feel very impeded.
There was Kroeth, vaulting over one of the fallen slabs, intending to use the full momentum of his falling body to drive a beskad into Cazur with a reverse grip. The zabrak barely managed to raise a bracer, putting it in the way of the wrist of Kroeth's blade hand. Kroeth landed on Cazur, his saber a scant inch away from the zabrak's visor. Cazur thrust his hand aside in a backhand motion. He was grateful for his dulled hearing as the tip of the beskad made a nails-on-chalkboard shriek, gouging a scratch across the visor.
Cazur rang Kroeth's bell with two quick strikes of the pommel of his own beskad against the dar'manda's helm. Shoving Kroeth off, Cazur rolled to his feet, watching his enemy do the same. Sides of meat and walls of the freezer cordoned them in, allowing very little room for footwork that a slick floor was already going to be making tenuous.
Kroeth's off-hand moved. Cazur anticipated this. A sizzling sound was accompanied by the smell of cooking flesh as Cazur interposed a side of bantha between himself and Kroeth's flamethrower. Cazur then shoved the slab before him, causing it to swing forward. He heard Kroeth grunt as the dar'manda's charge was interrupted. Cazur shifted around the bantha side, aiming the edge of his beskad for the gap between Kroeth's breastplate and right thigh armor. The saber cut, but it was a shallow thing as Kroeth leaned back, warding Cazur off with a thrust at the zabrak's belly.
A furious exchange of saber slashes, stabs, and parries began as both warriors planted their feet, each trying to overwhelm the other. Kroeth was quicker, there was no doubt, but Cazur used his armor to compensate for that, his superior strength evening the odds the rest of the way.
As Cazur moved, he something suddenly felt wrong with a blinding flash of pain. He'd aggravated one of the wounds caused by the mine, his left arm going limp. Kroeth seemed to notice this and redoubled his efforts. Cazur knew that without being able to block with the armor on his injured arm, Kroeth would quickly find a gap in his defenses. It was time to try something…drastic.
Cazur made a wide, sweeping slash that he knew would drive Kroeth back, but leave Cazur himself wide open for a riposte. The sound of Cazur's jetpack activating soon followed and the zabrak launched forward, stabbing his beskad forward with all his strength as he did. Cazur felt the blade into something and an instant later he was slamming into Kroeth, carrying the two of them the short distance into the shelving units on the freezer wall. Cazur heard Kroeth gasp as the air was driven from him, the shelves denting around the dar'manda and spilling what they held to the floor. White hot agony lanced through Cazur's left arm and before he knew it he was on his back looking up at the ceiling. Regaining his senses, Cazur looked past his feet to see Kroeth extricating himself from the shelves. Cazur's beskad was buried up ot the hilt in Kroeth's abdomen.
Reaching, Cazur managed to snatch up Kroeth fallen beskad before the dar'manda himself could, but Kroeth was already stumbling out of the freezer, hands clutching the saber in his guts. Cazur almost warned Kavala, but his words had been clear; if you don't hear from me, shoot without question.
A quintet of deep, rapid BOOMS echoed into the freezer, followed by a metal-clad body clanking to the floor.
"Caz! Caz'vod! Are you alive in there?!" Kavala shouted.
"I am! It's…it's alright, Kav'vod!" Cazur replied. He planted the fist that gripped Kroeth's beskad and pushed himself up to his feet with it. The zabrak stumbled, catching himself on a side of bantha as pain washed over him from his injured shoulder. However, he mastered himself and kept moving, reaching the entrance of the freezer.
Kroeth was laying half in the freezer door, half out. His breastplate was dented in a tight grouping center of mass where Kavala had shot him with the Intimidator, a few warped flechettes still sticking out. The repeated hits had breached the beskar'gam. Blood pooled and ran down Kroeth's armor as he took rapid, sharp breaths.
Cazur looked down at the dar'manda. He desperately tried to summon up the hatred and anger that he had felt towards Kroeth for all these years. It seemed the proverbial well had run dry. There was only a gnawing hollow in Cazur's gut at the pointlessness of it all; at the act of misguided anger that had started Kroeth down the path that had eventually led here.
"C-Caz'vod…what…what do we do?" Kavala asked. The flechette launcher was shaking in her hands, still pointed down at Kroeth.
Cazur reached out, gently lowering the barrel.
"You did good, Kav'vod. Go watch the door." Cazur said softly.
Kavala nodded, turning around to do as she was told.
Cazur knelt beside Kroeth. He removed the man's helmet, looking into the eyes of the human he had once called brother.
"So…this is…how it…ends." Kroeth wheezed. One of his hands was on Cazur's beskad, the other on the wound caused by Kavala. "Dead in…some slaver's…basement." Tears welled up in Kroeth's eyes, running down his face. "Fuck…why couldn't…you just…let me go…Ixi…Na're…already dead. This…changes…nothing…"
Cazur shook his head. He placed Kroeth's own blade against the dar'manda's throat.
"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la." Cazur said. Not dead, merely marching far away.
With that, he drew the beskad across Kroeth's throat. Cazur watched, expressionless, as yet more blood welled from this new opening in the dar'manda's flesh. He kept watching until, finally, Kroeth's choking ceased, his chest grew still, and his eyes went sightless. As the death rattle wheezed from Kroeth's ruined throat, Cazur stood, sheathing the dead man's blade at his own side. Cazur had no desire to retrieve his own beskad from Kroeth's corpse.
"Shouldn't we…do something with him?" Kavala asked quietly.
"Someone else will field strip the body." Cazur said. That was far too much beskar to leave unsalvaged. "Come on. We need to make sure Zej is alright."
"Caz'vod." Kavala said, reaching out and stopping him with a hand on his arm.
"It's done, Kav'vod." Cazur told her, not unkindly. "I promise we'll talk about it later, ok?"
Kavala hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Here." She handed the Intimidator back to him.
Cazur accepted the weapon, reloading it.
No more words. They got moving.
Zanebos's blaster reported yet again. This one was not aimed for Zej, but for the back of his own guard, who had just dropped his weapon and tried to run for the door. Zan's shot hit true, sending the traitor sprawling forward.
"Don't you fucking move a muscle, you understand me?!" Zan snarled at his remaining ally. It was Doal.
Doal glanced down at the blaster, then at the surrounding darkness. Somewhere out in it, a voice yelped, which turned into an extended wail that was abruptly silenced. Zan realized the Doal had pissed himself.
"F-Fuck this." Doal said in a half-sob. "Fuck this!"
Zan watched the man put the barrel of his blaster in his own mouth. The crime boss had just enough time to close his eyes before a shower of steaming blood and brain matter splattered him.
Zan, his throat hoarse and raw, let out another stream of curses as he rapidly backed up. He stopped when his armor clattered into something solid. Zan's pistol scanned back and forth.
"Someone sound off! Anyone!" Zan rasped.
"They're all dead, brother." Zej's voice filtered out of the shadows.
Zan whimpered involuntarily.
"I-I've got more people! You can't kill them all! They'll be here soon!" Zan replied, grasping at straws.
"My Clan has dealt with them. The ones that haven't surrendered, anyway." Zej said.
Zan couldn't believe it. His mind just couldn't wrap around it. He did understand when a bargain needed to be made.
"Alright. Alright, you want money? Treasure? Take whatever you want out of this place! You want to be left alone? Done. None of you fuckers'll ever see me or mine again. I swear it." Zan said.
"We can take whatever we want anyway." Zej said, her response somehow seeming to come from a completely different side of the room from her last one. "And there's only one way to ensure you really will leave us alone."
Several different curses and pleas all bunched up on Zan's tongue, rolling together into a wordless, desperate grunt of frustration, fear, and fury.
Then she was there, appearing from around a pillar straight in front of him, clad in bloodstained armor.
Zan brought up his blaster as she approached him. He fired once, twice, three times, the red bolts streaking through the dark, lighting up the dungeon for brief, strobing moment. One shot went wide, but the other two struck Zej dead center. The assassin didn't even slow down, blaster scoring doing little more than burning away paint.
Then, suddenly, hands were grabbing Zan's arms. He was too dumbfounded to realize what was happening until it was far too late; he had backed into the bars of a cell, and the slaves within had grabbed his arms. Zan thrashed, pulling his arms free, but then Zej was upon him.
The saber in Zej's hand was a harrowing, sharp specter that slashed off the fingers of Zan's blaster hand. As he shrieked and tried to curl away from his attacker, all Zan did was earn a slash across the back of his knees that severed his tendons. Zan's legs gave out and he collapsed to the filthy floor.
Then the lights in the room were finally thrown on.
Cradling his mangled hand to his chest, Zan desperately dragged himself along, driving by instinct to get away from his sister. The bright, sterile white lights cast the crimson pools scattered around the room into bright, grisly contrast against numerous, far older stains of brown-black that stained masonry and torture implements alike.
"Bloody fucking ancestors, you've made your damn point!" Zan cried, trying to get away from Zej. "So this is it, eh? You've gonna kill your own fucking brother?! After everything I've done for you?!"
Zej moved away from the light controls. A short way down the wall, there was a collection of small levers. She reached for the one marked "Master."
"No, Zan. I'm not going to kill you." She said, throwing the lever.
Gears turned and rang as all the slave cells opened.
Zej made a B-line for one cell. As she walked, some of the slaves tentatively started stepping out. Most were twi'leks and humans. They were clad in rags, all of them unwashed and malnourished. Some needed the help of others to walk.
"You're free now." Zej informed those nearby. "My Clan will provide you with aid when you reach the surface."
"...what…about him?" One of the slaves asked, gesturing with their chin toward their erstwhile master.
Zej did not even look at them. "I just told you, didn't I? You're free now."
It seemed to sink in among the slaves. Dozens of pairs of eyes suddenly settled on the mained twi'lek crime boss that was desperately trying, and failing, to get to his feet.
Zan ceased in his struggles. The same thing that was dawning on the slaves was settling on him, took.
"Z-Zej? Zej, don't leave me here." Zan pleased. "We're the last Alacras, Zej. We have to work together for the good of the family."
"You're the last Alacra, Zan. Mharal is my family now." Zej replied. She arrived at the cell she had seen earlier. Within, a young, emerald green twi'lek child cowered in the corner.
Zej removed her helmet, dropping to a knee. She spoke in her softest, kindest voice.
"My name is Zejephone. You can call me Zej. What's your name?" The Mando asked.
The girl peered at Zej from between her fingers. There was already a lifetime of hurt in those eyes.
"Saiala." The girl finally said.
"Saiala. That's such a pretty name." Zej said with a smile, holding out her hand. "I would like to take you away from here. Will you come with me, please? We're going to go someplace where he can't hurt you anymore"
"You…you promise?" Saiala asked with a desperate, guttering candle of hope that broke Zej's heart.
"I promise." Zej said. I'll burn every last palace on this planet to the ground before I let it happen.
After a moment, Saiala nodded. Zej was only vaguely aware of Zan alternating between groveling and threatening as his former slaves tightened the cordon. Zej approached Saiala, picking the girl up and holding her close. The assassin felt bad about all the blood on her armor, but needs must.
As Zej left Saiala's cell, she heard Zan once again.
"Don't you leave me here, Zejephone! You can't, you hear me?! I won't allow it! I made you! I OWN YOU!" Zan screamed.
"Goodbye, Zan." Zej said as she passed out of the dungeon.
The last thing she heard was Zan's incoherent begging as the freed slaves finally closed in around him.
The battle for Alacra Palace was over. Mandalorian casualties were blessedly minimal. Zan's guards, once it became clear they could not win, began throwing down their weapons en masse. The Mandalorians were more than happy to accept surrenders from those that offered them.
The freed slaves were now on the surface, gathered in the courtyard. They had been provided with water and ration bars; far from a feast, but eating too much could be dangerous until they regained some of their strength. Cazur's injured arm was in a sling, a bacta patch slapped over the wound. Around him, his Clan was moving looted treasure and weapons into Mharal's ships, bound for the holds of the Battle Cry.
Cazur stopped by the medical tent that had been set up in the palace's evening shadow. Among the score or so of wounded who yet lived was Stroyh. The volpai was laid out on a stretcher, his lower left arm completely gone. Stroyh was currently unconscious, put under by a Clan medic. Hylt sat on a camp stool nearby, her face bandaged.
"He'll live." Hylt said.
"Good. We'll have to get him a replacement on Nar Shaddaa." Cazur said. At least they would be able to afford it with little issue. "How are you?"
"I'll be fine." Hylt assured him. She sighed. "Ryloth's not going to forget this one soon, I think."
"No. I don't think they will." Cazur agreed. "You seen Zej?"
Hylt pointed, but didn't say anything.
Cazur went in that direction. He passed by where most of the freed prisoners were gathered. Jodihan was there, talking to an elderly twi'lek that Cazur didn't know the name of, but she seemed to have taken the role of a spokeswoman of the group. As Cazur passed by, Jodihan said something in parting to the twi'lek, then turned to her son.
"Caz'ika. Are you alright?" Jodihan asked.
He met the eyes of the woman that had raised him. It had been so long since he'd seen her out of the Battle Cry. Maybe it was the fact that all she had done was fly the Kath Hound and provided comm support during the fight yet she still looked exhausted, but Cazur hadn't really realized just how old Jodihan had begun to look. The togorian had not lived an easy life by any stretch of the word. The toll had been taken.
"Not really." Cazur admitted, finally answering her question. "But I will be."
"Ixi and Na're have been avenged. A stain from our Clan's honor has been wiped away, and we've won a great victory." Jodihan said. She let out a long sigh, "and it still manages to feel like a loss somehow, doesn't it?"
"'All my battles have ended in defeat, especially the victories.'" Cazur quoted Mharal Jyttan.
"Exactly." Jodihan said.
"Maybe you should sit down and get some water, ner buir." Cazur suggested.
Jodihan waved him off. "I'll be fine. But, Caz'ika, I pulled you aside for a reason. I wanted to talk to you about something, now that the fight's over, but before we get bogged down in helping everyone we freed and reorganizing."
"What is it?" Cazur asked.
"I meant what I said before we left the Battle Cry." Jodihan said.
One last ride. Cazur remembered. A Clan Chieftain was expected to participate in battle. Even staying back on the ship as Jodihan had was something of a grey area, one the togorian was able to walk in thanks to the immense loyalty Clan Mharal had towards the one that had carried them through the aftermath of the Night of A Thousand Tears.
"I'm choosing Lannic." Jodihan said. "I know this should be a public announcement but you're really the only other person anyone would consider to take my place."
"Lannic would challenge me if you chose me, anyway." Cazur reasoned.
Another sigh from Jodihan. "I know." She said. "They're proud. Stubborn. But they're Mandalorian to the core. And you, Caz'ika, have been doing good for the entire Clan with what you've been doing with the Kath Hound. Mharal needs you to keep doing that, and you're still young, as such things go. One day, I know you'll make a fine Chieftain, though maybe I'm a little biased." She laughed.
Cazur chuckled in spite of himself. "To be honest, ner buir, I'm fine with this. I know I'm not ready for the job yet. Lannic deserves it. And I think it will make things between the two of us a little less frosty."
"Good." Jodihan said, turning her broad face as someone called out to her from across the courtyard. "Duty calls. Well done today, Caz'ika."
With that, the Chieftain of Mharal walked off. Cazur thought about what she had told him, then shrugged to himself. It was a perfectly acceptable outcome. He didn't have anything to add or consider, really. So, he kept going to find Zej.
Zej was seated on a now empty food crate, her back against the inner side of the palace's wall. The crate opened to Zej's left, its interior now packed with several blankets. The twi'lek girl that Zej had carried out, Saiala, was curled up inside the crate, nibbling on a ration bar. She watched everyone who went past with wide-eyed fear and suspicion, Cazur included.
"Ner kar'ta." Zej breathed. She did not rise from where she sat, nor did Cazur expect her to.
"Cyar'ika." Cazur replied. He approached, leaned down, and kissed her, then cupped her cheek in his good hand. "You did it."
"We did it." Zej said, placing her hand over his.
They stood like that for a few moments before Cazur let his hand fall.
"What's going to happen to all of them?" Zej asked, indicating those that had been freed from the dungeon.
"We'll try to find their families, if they have them." Cazur said. "If not, we'll take them to the capital, or Nar Shaddaa, with some of the treasure from the palace in their pocket. That is, of course, if they don't take us up on the offer to be Clan foundlings."
Cazur saw Zej glance down to where Saiala's feet poked out of the crate. The zabrak couldn't help a wan grin.
"Why don't we put Galatea on hold for a little bit?" Cazur suggested.
Zej looked up at him. "Are you sure?" There was guilt in her voice. "I just…want to make sure she gets taken care of."
"I'm sure. I promise." Cazur said. "Besides, I won't be able to enjoy it very much with my arm so fu-...messed up."
Zej nodded.
Cazur stood beside Zej, holding her hand while proceedings continued around them.
"We did a good thing today, I think." Zej said.
"We did." Cazur agreed.
"I only wish I had done it sooner." Zej said.
"I understand the feeling." Cazur agreed once more.
There they remained, both watching over Saiala, as the sun slowly set on that day of blood and battle.