The Dark Jedi bent low, breath hot on Rahn's face. Beneath his sneer flashed a row of bone-colored teeth. He licked his lips eagerly. The man at his feet had made him wait a very long time for this. He could afford to savor the moment.

Rahn broke the silence, "Why hesitate? Strike me down."

Jerec reveled in the fearlessness in his voice. Such heroism, such unflappable Jedi virtue. It was nostalgic.

"In time, Rahn." he whispered, "First, I need something from you."

He straightened, cape flowing beneath him. The rest of the Dark Jedi stood in a loose circle around their kneeling captive. Their many and varied emotions averaged out to a nervous excitement that permeated the bridge of the Vengeance. Heat, sweat, and pride rose off Maw and the others that had captured Rahn. The deserter's late companion was face-down next to him and stank of burnt flesh. Nobody paid him any attention.

Sharply, Jerec sniffed the air. There was the smell of violence again. He exhaled. Inhaled. He reached out with his feelings: vicious and predatory. A bolt of fear flashed within Rahn, and disappointment rang like silent thunder. How unfortunate, he had still believed this whole chase was about retribution. Delicious.

Rahn winced, looking away from the human that loomed above him, shrouded in dark robes and polished black armor. His thin leather blindfold and the sharp tattoos at the corners of his mouth stood out against his pale skin, which stretched and rippled as he continued to breathe. The first spine of thought pierced Rahn's mind. A single phrase, foreign and unbidden, echoed: Where is the Valley?

A memory rose up in answer. There was an old man, another human, wearing a mechanic's apron. His eyes were small, bright jewels that shone beneath a heavy brow. They looked out at him with such sorrow and love. Rahn tried to bury it. He twisted and pulled, but the invading tendrils snagged against him. Their barbs dug deep, until they were a briar of thorns cutting his every thought. He screamed.

The other Dark Jedi watched closely. Maw wore a large-fanged grin. He was bruised and battered from the fight on the catwalk. Even before all this, he'd never liked Rahn. His smugness, his superiority: it rankled the boltrunian. On the opposite side of the ring, the mysterious duo in ancient armor watched wordlessly. The smaller was entirely disconnected from the scene. He picked his ears absentmindedly while humming an old dirge. The larger was far more attentive. Gorc, that was the name of the giant, was relieved that he and his brother, Pic, had once again proven their usefulness. He waited to see what came of this interrogation, and with it, what credit it would earn them.

Within Rahn, images flowed like burst veins. The man in his workshop. The man in an alley in Barons Hed. The man standing on the Sulonese moor, surrounded by the smell of heather. The man in Rahn's arms, a stone ceiling full of bas-relief stars overhead, flickering in the lamplight. The man sharing holos of himself and his boy, waving gleefully in cobalt light. Both of them so full of life, practically glowing with the–

Rahn gasped and nearly collapsed on the metal grating.

In the shadow of the great aqueduct, beneath the amber glow of Sullust in the night sky, the man whispered something in his ears: something he had been terrified to share until now. Something that should have set them free. Something that separated them forever.

"Morgan Katarn!" cried Jerec, victorious, "This dead man holds the Valley's location." He licked his lips, "Very intriguing."

Another Dark Jedi, a white twi'lek named Boc, cackled at the heartbreak Rahn tried so hard to hide. Sariss, a human female standing across from Boc, allowed herself a cruel smile. Such sweet pain. There could be no doubt that their master had found the truth. Maw grinned as well, not at the reaction, but at the name. An image ten years' faded passed behind his eyes, of peasant rebels and a public beheading.

Yun, a scrawny young human and the newest addition to the Order, only sighed in relief. Rahn knelt not two meters in front of him. Despite his enthusiasm in training, the battle mere minutes earlier had been a harsh reminder that Rahn – that all the Jedi, dark or otherwise – far outclassed him both as warriors and wielders of the Force. He tried to dismiss the nagging fears from his mind. When that was unsuccessful, he tried, at least, not to look at the prisoner.

Jerec stooped by Rahn's ear and hissed something inaudible. The man's tawny face was stoic as the Dark Jedi stood and marched away, chuckling. The shadowed figure raised his hand to order the execution when Rahn erupted in a blur of motion.

Yun felt a tug at his belt and, with a loud click, saw his shining yellow blade ignite in Rahn's hands. The circle rushed to restrain the Jedi. Boc went for his own blades and was disarmed before they could extend. Rahn swung wide to clear the space around him. Yun lept in a panic, barely a handbreadth separating him and his own saber. Gorc's eyes flashed and he charged to the young man's defense. Seven feet of rage, he swung a hilt as long as Pic was tall right at Rahn's head. It was all his younger brother could do not to be hurled across the deck. He clung for dear life to the bone pauldron he'd been sitting on. Rahn needed all his focus – not to mention his strength – to block the first blow. When the second and third came down, he parried, letting Gorc's momentum carry him away. He moved towards Jerec but, with a fierce cry, Sariss swung to behead him. Her saberwork was far more complex than Gorc's, and her strength nearly a match. Rahn didn't stand a chance. After two short exchanges, he settled for another wide swing to push her back. He only needed a few seconds to get to Jerec, to cut the head off this beast. The order would collapse without him. Morgan's legacy would be preserved and his son spared the trials of destiny.

In his panic, he swung too wide.

Maw screamed as Rahn's wayward blade cut clean through his pelvis. There was no turning back, now. Jerec whirled around as the Jedi charged him, his fear and anger ringing out in the Force as loud as his stolen blade. The two crossed sabers with a wrenching crash. Sweeping past each other, they turned in defensive postures, each too far from the other to strike. On either side of them, the slim metal walkway gave way to empty crew pits. The crowd of Dark Jedi behind Jerec was blocked completely.

Yun's yellow blade hummed in Rahn's hands, perhaps eager to be put to such masterful use. To little avail, he tried to center his mind. All he saw was Morgan's beautiful face, staring down at him, rotting on a pike.

Jerec smirked and raised his hand, already in an ancient Sith sign. White light burst forth like the dawn.

Rahn felt as if he'd become the light: formless, weightless, untouchable. Even the call of the Force passed through him. A darkness swept across his thoughts and feelings, every bit as intense as the light that surrounded his body. Perhaps the light was merely the energies Jerec deflected away from him, leaving crude matter and void in its place.

Breathless, nearly spiritless, Rahn fell to his knees. Yun's saber rolled off the platform. Jerec laughed mercilessly and strutted forward, saber raised for one final strike.

It's not over, Rahn thought, his vision succumbing to the black, I'm sorry I couldn't save him, Morgan. I love–

Red light blazed through the bridge. By the time the half-darkness of the emergency lights returned, Qu Rahn had collapsed. The Jedi was dead.


Yun stared down at his silver hilt, lodged some ten feet below in a navigation terminal at the front of the crew pit. Maw moaned behind him. Uniformed figures busted about the bridge. Several navy men had been summoned to dispose of the Republic stowaway. Jerec waved them off of Rahn's sordid remains. When a young medic tried to get near Maw, Pic hissed at him and nearly took his finger off. The rest of the squad hurried out as quickly as the smoldering corpse between them allowed. The Dark Jedi were alone, and Yun stood away from the rest.

He squeezed the waist of his tunic till his fists ached. His spine was locked straight, his eyes stuck on the flashing metal. Keeping his grip tight, he rubbed the hook on his belt where he'd hung it just a few minutes ago. The tiny metal clip was warped and hot from getting bent open. It stung him, but he kept on pressing against it, gritting his teeth against the blistering heat. A gloved hand caught his shoulder and he nearly fell into the pit.

Tugging Yun from the edge, Jerec flashed his free palm over the rim and the fallen hilt flew into it with a dull clap.

"There is an old Sith phrase," he said, gripping Yun like a vice, "I first heard it from the last great Dark Jedi."

Yun did not look at Jerec, or the hilt he spun in his offhand. He struggled to keep his chest from heaving while his heart tripped and stuttered. His master's voice was half-muted by the rush of blood in his ears, but he could still hear Maw's whimpering crystal clear from all the way across the bridge.

"'There is no conflict,'" he continued, "'Only resolve.' Look around you, boy," he shook him, gesturing at the rest of their order. "Tell me, what do you see?"

Sariss and Boc were placing what was left of Rahn onto a floatgurney. Gorc gently palmed both halves of Maw, and looked to Jerec for further instruction. With a wave of Yun's hilt, he dismissed him and his brother. They excused themselves with two bows and left for the turbolift.

At last, Yun answered. "Resolve."

Jerec laughed, and clapped him on the back.

"Good," he pushed the saber into his hand and led him around the crew pit to join the rest of the order, "Do not let yourself be distracted. This day is a triumph for our empire."

Sariss nodded at Jerec's approach, only acknowledging Yun with a faint sniff. Boc grinned toothily, although perhaps not as toothily as he might have before his late-life death stick habit.

Sariss assumed the pristine posture of a veteran officer and spoke. "Body ready for your discharge, Jerec."

"Excellent, Sariss. I want him honored and burned. Every ceremony we are equipped to bestow," he said, arm extended, palm facing down, sweeping over the dismembered figure, "For now, take him to the morgue. There will be time for ritual while we make the jump to Sulon."

She bowed and led Boc, pushing the rectangular craft, out the entryway. Yun frowned and looked between Rahn's carcass and the back of Jerec, sweeping up the walkway to the head of the bridge. When the lift door hissed shut, he was still standing, confused and increasingly irritated, in the middle of the landing.

"Join me," said Jerec, standing by the forward viewport.

Yun walked to his side and did his best to mimic Sariss' stance. Jerec grinned and turned to the window. He removed the glove from his left hand and reached for the somatic display on the forward console. It stuttered and clicked while his forefingers scanned across it, gliding through new characters moments after they appeared. In the window beyond his master, Yun saw the system's sun setting behind the crimson atmosphere of the planet below. Several green flashes caught his eye. Explosions, almost imperceptible from their orbit, lit up like vermillion beads. Several more arced downward, and he realized they were being fired by the Vengeance.

"There they are," said Jerec, reading the interface, "While you joined Maw on the retrieval team, I instructed the captain to begin bombardment. I am not interested in sharing the Valley with this new republic, regardless of our defector's efforts."

After several seconds' tense silence, Yun burst out, "Why are you celebrating him? He betrayed you. He just tried to kill you."

The young Jedi froze. Jerec's hand stopped in its scanning and the interface fell silent. He turned around and faced the young man.

There was no anger in his face when he spoke, "Do not judge our apostate too harshly, my young padawan. You do not know the terrible, flagellating call the light side of the Force has. It was a heavy thing the fallen order inflicted on us: some of before we were old enough to know our own names. I do not wish it on any of you."

Yun considered this, looking back at the lights of the bombardment, now glimmering like a swarm of brightwasps.

"Can it really push you to such betrayal?" he asked.

"My dear boy," Jerec said, "What do you think happened to the old order?"


Gorc had his hands full. Maw's upper half whimpered in his left, while the lower half twitched in his right. Pic led the way to their chambers several floors beneath the bridge. Imperial officers along the hall made sharp turns as the brothers approached. While they no longer instinctively grabbed for their sidearms, their fear, hot and shivering, still rolled out before the twins like a red carpet. Pic took joy in making faces at anyone that stared. Gorc just rumbled by. He neither minded nor found pleasure in their reaction. They were unsettled. That's what he and his brother did. They upset things, rocked the status quo, and left a wake to suck the weak under the waves. But there were things that left far bigger wakes in this galaxy. The fall of the old empire. The rise of the new republic. And now Jerec's new order. Perhaps they'd have been wise to remain in hiding, he thought, as their chamber doors swept open. It was a lot to risk, even for the Valley.

Sensing his uncertainty, Pic turned to him and said, "You've spent too much time in the swamp," He flipped onto the stone table in the center of the room and flexed at the ceiling. "We've got worlds to conquer," he croaked, "And without the lords–"

Maw moaned as Gorc slammed both halves of him onto the table, glaring at Pic.

The younger brother shrugged, "He's not gonna remember any of this,"

Growling, Gorc responded in ancient Sith sign, "Jerec's not a lord, but he's still dangerous. And we don't know for sure the lords are gone. I'm still not convinced by this story about the Sky Walker."

Pulling several jars from the shelves, Pic said, "Let the Jedi worry about the Jedi. The lords had the right idea about that. And this empire business. It's better than being a boogeyman on some backwater moon."

Their door hissed open, surprising them both. Yun stood in the entryway, face white, in rigid parade rest.

"Jerec, uhh," he started, trying not to make eye contact, "I'm here to assist."

And observe, Gorc heard him add in his mind.

He turned and signed at Pic, "See what I mean? Watch your mouth, or–"

"Sorry," Yun interrupted, trying to get a better look at Gorc's hands as they twirled and flicked in Sith handshapes he only half-recognized. "I didn't catch that."

Pic spoke up, "He just said–"

Gorc interrupted him with a cough, before turning and signing at Yun – now in Galactic Somatic, "Yes. We are glad to have your help. Please, come inside and [ ]." At the boy's confusion, he tried to repeat himself, but was unfortunately a couple digits short of anything intelligible. He settled for jerking his thumb to the free side of the table and grunting.

Yun's feet seemed stuck to the floor. The room seemed designed to evoke fear and madness. Which, of course, was exactly the case. The metal walls had been covered by long black and red drapery. Intertwining patterns and tableaus told a small portion of an ancient and taboo history once thought destroyed. The Jedi archivists, it seemed, had not quite finished the job. Piled up against these tapestries were great masses of tablets, statuary, porcelain, scrolls, tomes, masks, knives, vestments, vials, flasks, kegs, candles, and a thousand other inscrutable things from as many worlds, all as mysterious and alien to the young man as the brothers themselves. Overhead, a chandelier made from the skulls of a dozen unidentifiable predators lit the room. A small fusion lamp at its center gave off a dry heat that enhanced the room's oppressive atmosphere. Maw, for his part, did not seem to mind. Yun realized the twins were staring at him as he took in the room. Edging between the piles of esoterica and the mountainous Dark Jedi, he took a place at the table opposite Pic.

The table itself was another curiosity. The form was simple, undecorated except for a slight bevel along the edges. It stood on a single rectangular column. Pockmarks and gashes flecked the surface, and a fluorescent green resin leaked from the deep crevices. It stank of sweat, rot and fungal caverns. Gorc tapped it several times to draw Yun's attention.

"You are not hurt?" he signed, "Did you [ ]? [ ]? Did you jump away?" He tilted his head to try and get a better look at the boy's chest and legs.

After a few seconds' processing, Yun replied, "Oh, uhh, yes. I'm alright."

Pic jumped in front of Yun and raised an eyebrow at Gorc. Maw gasped beneath him.

"Dank farrik!" swore Yun, just now getting a proper view of the bifurcated Dark Jedi, "How the hell–? What are we gonna do?"

"We are going to get to work. You will keep your hands to yourself," said Pic, shoving the young man back, "And get me a rag," he added.

While Gorc got to work cutting off the remains of Maw's tunic, Pic bent down to look at the injury. He prodded the cauterized muscle and blacked bone. The Sith Brother marveled, not for the first time, at the oddity of saber wounds. Jedi historians apparently insisted their order merely adopted the weapon from the ancient Sith. Pic doubted very much his ancestors would have had much use for a weapon that disinfected and cauterized its victims – at least, not unless to defend against enemies wielding the same. Leave it to the Jedi to distance themselves from even the anemic, sanitized violence they brought to bear.

"Here," said Yun, handing off a scrap of yellow leather he'd found hanging off a workbench.

Pic snatched it with a grunt and wet it with the contents of the jars he'd brought over. Red gas began to rise off the damp end. He held it at arm's length and pressed it into the cavity.

Maw screamed.

Yun nearly jumped into the chandelier, but Gorc caught him by the shoulder. He just about wrenched his arm out of its socket in the process. Pic cackled from the table and continued to reopen the wound.

"Don't knock anything over, apprentice," he taunted, "You're the easiest thing to replace, here."

The work continued for some time. The twins gathered a number of powders, organs, and preserved saps: mixing them together over an open flame. This process was accompanied by several ritual chants and occasionally marking the edge of Maw's injury with hot wax. Yun fetched things when asked, but mostly stood several steps away from the other two and their moaning subject. Occasionally, Gorc would try to stop and explain something. Very little got through to Yun. Either the language barrier or an indignant Pic would put a stop to the conversation.

While Yun had his back turned, the younger Sith signed, " 'Watch your mouth,' " at his brother, sneering. Gorc dismissed him with a backhand wave.

Finally, they reached the last step. Resting a cauldron full of the pungent brew at the far end of the table, Gorc grabbed Pic's hand and reached out for Yun's.

"Join. Take up," his left hand signed with some difficulty.

Returning to the table, Yun stretched out and watched his hand vanish under Gorc's mitt – much the same as Pic's did in his own hand. They stood around Maw's head, long passed out under the duress of his treatment.

"What do I do now?" asked Yun, looking between the two brothers.

Pic rolled his eyes, then shut them tight, skewing up his whole face like he was trying to remember something.

Gorc let go of Yun's hand briefly and signed, "Find Maw's [ ]"

"His what?" said Yun.

"[ ]. Find [ ]," Gorc repeated, slower.

"Is there a pen or something –" Yun started to look around. Gorc grabbed his cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and turned the boy's eyes back towards himself, growling.

After a moment spent looking for a fair synonym, he signed, "Rage. Find rage."

It took several seconds, but Yun nodded as understanding began to dawn on him. Gorc took his hand again and closed his eyes.

Yun looked between the brothers, then at the muscle-bound man below them, twitching in pain, even in his sleep. He looked around the room again: the tapestries, the chandelier, the roiling cauldron and the gold smoke pouring out of it. It was all a far cry from the training rooms at Barons Hed – farther still from the barracks he'd lived in before that. Maybe that's why Jerec had sent him here. Squeezing Gorc's hand – maybe just one of his fingers – he shut his own eyes, and reached out.

The anger wasn't hard to find.

Controlling it was the trick.


Sariss marched out of the holo chamber, trying the limits of her greatest skill: self-restraint. The call with the regional governors had gone worse than she'd anticipated. The bureaucrats and oligarchs were cowards by nature, easily swayed by the most dangerous looking thing nearby. Some drift and conspiring was to be expected in the order's absence, but this was much more pronounced. They were demanding new expansion, more assets, increased production and a thousand other things that comforted the sheltered and powerful. Worse yet, they were united. Some of them even let slip several choice words about the order's current objective and the Jedi religion generally.

The admiral had been at their ears. The rest were too preoccupied with their own little kingdoms to do anything more than bicker amongst themselves. It was exactly that trait that had made her suggest them as candidates for Jerec's resurrection of the Galactic Empire. Unfortunately, you couldn't stage a civil war with wealth alone. The imperial naval infrastructure had only fared marginally better than the political one following the Battle of Endor. The admiral – Grand Admiral Krugon – brought with him the Sixth Fleet. It was the most intact military structure in the remnant, and, combined with the mystique of the Dark Jedi Order, formed the backbone of Jerec's power base. It seems Krugon had convinced the governors his was the more essential half of that equation. She'd been worried about something like this ever since Eriadu.

Her facade of neutrality must have been doing its job, because her underlings didn't see any reason not to come up to her with a dozen notifications about fuel shortages, technical glitches, ammo reserves and a thousand other petty infrastructural concerns she'd had to master in the years since the fall. She hadn't liked having to deal with these people when she was a Hand. Being in command, well, she'd come to understand Vader's preferred method of dealing with them. Pity for the crew shortage. A few choice asphyxiations could do a lot for the Vengeance's efficiency. She permitted herself a smirk. The other officers fled in short order.

Jerec and Yun were at the head of the bridge again, debriefing after his encounter with the brother's sorcery. Maw had been returned to the care of the Grave Tuskens on board: alive, but comatose. Pic didn't say when he'd be up. It had better be soon. The last thing she needed was a bunch of swoop bikers out for blood. She hadn't seen Boc since they left the morgue. She didn't much care what he was doing.

Something the young man said made Jerec chuckle. Even from here, she could feel the pride and anticipation that shined off the old man. Those who had trained her would not have brooked such unrestrained emotions – neither, she recognized, would those who trained him.

"The course is set. All systems are ready for the jump," she said, coming up beside them.

"Excellent, Sariss," Jerec replied, turning towards her, "And the investigation?"

"I will make the call as soon as we've made the jump to lightspeed," she said, "I recommend outsourcing this. There's disunity among the council members. Until we have the Valley under our control, I think it would be wise to use independent agents whenever the Vengeance's crew is insufficient."

"Hmm," Jerec considered, "And who do you recommend?"

"A black market contact. Someone ambitious, but without any big friends – or enemies," she said, already pulling up a file on the forward console.

She waited while he scanned through, fingers sweeping across the dot interface. He stopped and fiddled with a short section in the middle of the row.

"A droid?" he said, with quiet suspicion.

"It's what lets him operate under the radar of the local gangsters. They don't see him as a threat," she said.

"They are mistaken?" he asked.

"Gravely."

He laughed, "Then contact him. I want his report ready by the time we reach the system."

"Wait, what's there to report?" interrupted Yun, "I thought this Morgan guy was dead?"

" 'This Morgan guy,' " snapped Sariss, "Was the head of the most substantial rebel actions on Sulon – until the block riots. Rahn was responsible for the initial probe. He didn't find anything. Now we know why."

"Ahh, such a bold man. Strong in the Force," Jerec said, "He would have made a worthy addition to our order."

"There's something else," she added, "I had the researchers check the chain code database. It seems Katarn had a son. A naval defector."

"A member of the Alliance?" asked Jerec, raising his hairless brows.

"A mercenary, but he had a run-in with a black project Rom Mohc was running."

"How enticing. See that our droid puts a bounty on him. Nothing eye-catching," he chuckled at his quiet joke, "I won't have us drawing attention until the Valley is in my grasp."

"What do we do till then?" asked Yun, looking to Jerec.

Jerec began to lead the trio down the center walkway and off the bridge. Without turning, he said, "We will move with the utmost haste. Bury our honored dead. And you – ahh, Boc."

The turbolift doors hissed open. The white twi'lek was waiting for them, picking his teeth with his claws.

"Honored dead safe in the freezer," he sniffed.

"Very good," said Jerec, leading the rest of the order through the hatch. The lift hummed to life beneath them.

Yun slipped into his habitual navy stance and asked, "And me?"

"And you," Jerec continued, "Will continue to watch the brothers. Learn everything you can. You've seen what their knowledge can do, properly realized," he flexed his left hand, "But be careful not to be seduced by their heathen ways. Despite their mysteries, they are a thousand years out of step with our order. They are not long for this galaxy."

Yun cracked his neck and shifted his feet. "They aren't a part of the order?" he asked.

"No," said Jerec, emphatic, "They are not our enemy, unlike the Alliance general, but the future can only belong to us."

"Very well," Yun said, "I will learn everything I can, master."

"I know you will, Yun," said Jerec, "You are the first of the new generation."

"Perhaps," interrupted Sariss, "It would be wise to let our young apprentice disembark at one of our border stations. As we approach the Valley, the twins will become a liability."

Yun's posture slipped as he turned to face the others, "I can handle the bog beasts."

"Like you handled Rahn?" said Sariss, emotionless.

"That wasn't my fault!" snapped Yun, "He was on his knees, wiped. He got me with a Jedi trick."

"The ones for the weak minded?" asked Sariss, "You need to get off this ship before you wind up on those witches' table."

Jerec smiled, "Trials are an essential part of every young Jedi's training. But, if Sariss has concerns, perhaps you want to reconsider?"

"There's nothing to consider!" he barked, "I'll kill them myself if I have to." He slammed the stop button and stormed off the lift.

Boc chuckled as the doors shut behind the boy. "Perhaps not an apprentice for much longer, then?" he said, remembering his own trials with a masochistic thrill.

"That boy is a liability," Sariss said, turning on Jerec, "You think he's obedient – he is not. He's desperate to prove himself."

Jerec smiled, "That boy is our future. If the Dark Jedi are to rule for a thousand years, it will be because of him. Let us see how he lives up to that destiny."

The lift engines revved up again. Orange floor lights zipped past.

"I recognize his significance," said Sariss, moving next to Jerec, "It is why we should be cautious. "

"You are Imperial," he replied, "Boc and Maw are of the old order. In fact: the unwanted chaff of the old order."

Boc laughed with a faint cough.

"The Brothers are something even older still," he continued, "Yun is our new order. The first of many. We must simply find the power to continue."


Jedi Knight: Valley of the Lost is an adaptation of Jedi Knight: Dark Forces II and updates on the first Monday of every even-numbered month. The cover art is by jordan_jingli on Instagram.