Chapter Eight: The Power of the Dark Side
It had been a week since the incident on the landing pad but Artus couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He, like his fellow exiles, had awoken before sunrise as normal. The skies of Coruscant were dark; the lights of the city illuminated the skyline. The Jedi sat in the lounge of the apartment. Once a month, they donned their robes and meditated, trying to reach other survivors. After a year, they had found none. Despite feeling that the tradition was hopeless, Artus still felt a strange sense of comfort from the routine. The five Jedi sat in a circle, once again hoping to feel the presence of their kin.
"This is humiliating," grumbled Kruiz. Artus couldn't help but agree. He rose to his feet and prepared for another day of mundane survival.
"Wait!" exclaimed Zyral. The Jedi Master had remained in his mediation. "I sense something. I sense…"
"Cold." Finished Artus. All of a sudden the apartment had gone from a homely warmth to frigid, as if the carpet had become a tundra. Artus focused on the Force. He could not help but feel as if hope was slipping away. He looked around and could see the same expression on the faces of his brethren.
"It's probably nothing." Said Bene, with a tone that indicated more wishful thinking than strong belief. He walked over to the exit, pressing the panel to activate the doors. Nothing happened. "Strange." Bene muttered. He reset the control panel and pressed the panels. Nothing happened. Bene attempted to pry the doors open but they wouldn't budge. He turned to face the others, his back to the doorway. "I don't know what's up with these doors."
"Should I get the tools?" replied Kruiz.
"Yes, I think that would be best. I'm sure we can fix…" A sharp hiss cut through Bene's sentence. Artus spun to the door to see a crimson blade emerging from Bene's chest. He felt the life leave his friend as the blade disappeared. Bene's body slumped to the floor.
"No!" yelled Kruiz, igniting his lightsaber. Artus, Barran and Zyral followed suit. The light from the four beams illuminated the room as the doors slowly opened. Artus could see nothing beyond the doorway except shadow.
"Show yourself!" Barran's voice still held a commanding aura, even after a year of exile. As Artus watched, the shadows seemed to slither into the room, like the tentacles of some monstrous creature. He could hear heavy footsteps slowly getting closer. They were clunky. Artus suspected it was a droid of some kind; no man could walk with that kind of weight. As the thudding got closer the room got colder, as if the light was being sapped from the Force itself. Artus heard a sound which he would never forget. A raspy, electronic breathing, slow and assured, emanated from the shadows.
"What are you?" growled Zyral. A red lightsaber ignited to answer his question. A large, armoured figure, cloaked in black, emerged from the shield. Artus had never seen anything like it. On its chest was control panel of flickering lights. The figure was clad in a jet-black helmet, with a sloped design. A triangular respirator connected to a skull-like mask with unblinking, black eyes. The figure raised its weapon and walked towards the Jedi. Before Artus could strike, Kruiz lunged forward, bellowing with a battle cry. The figure stepped to the side, as if in slow motion, and pushed the Kruiz into the wall with the Force. Artus could only watch in horror as the figure forced Kruiz to plunge his lightsaber into his own neck.
"Kruiz!" cried Zyral. He twirled his green lightsaber. "Barran, Artus, we'll take him together."
"Agreed." Replied Barran with a snarl. The Jedi leapt towards the figure, their blades clashing with the red lightsaber. Artus could not believe how fast the figure was, and how much power it dealt with every strike. The figure lifted Artus with the Force; he could feel his neck being restrained.
"Foolish Jedi." Said the figure with a thundering, yet mechanical, voice. Artus could barely breathe, his vision becoming blurry as he fell to his knees. Before he could pass out, he saw his master swing his blade at the figure. The distraction released Artus from his Force grip. He coughed; specs of blood splattered onto the carpet. Looking up, he saw the figure locked in a fierce dual with Zyral. Barran moved to strike the figure from behind, but in a flash the red blade slashed across his face. The Rodian screamed with agony, dropping his weapon. Artus could see a smouldering gash across his master's right cheek and eye. The figure swung a crushing punch into Barran's face, knocking the Jedi to the ground. Artus rushed to block what would have surely been a fatal strike. The figure brought his lightsaber crashing down on Artus's blade with a fury that shook through the Jedi's whole body. Before he could react a black leather first crashed into Artus's face. He flew back, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Zyral was knocked back into a chair, sliding across the room amongst the broken furniture. Artus pulled his weapon back to his grasp as the figure lifted up Barran by his neck. Artus could see the figure's black fingers tightening around his master's throat. He jumped at the figure. The figure threw Barran aside, the Rodian smashing through the window and plummeting down the side of Coruscant's bottomless towers.
"You'll pay for that!" screamed Artus. He pulled Barran's lightsaber to him and ignited it. Wielding the two blades, he charged at the figure. He unleashed everything he could at the figure, but it barely seemed to cause an effect. The figure kicked Artus away. The young Jedi tried to ignite his lightsaber, but it did not work. He looked to see the hilt had crushed in his hand; he could not believe that the power that the figure wielded. Clipping the remains of his weapon onto his belt, he ignited Barran's weapon. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Zyral rise to his feet. The furniture around Artus began to levitate and before he knew it, the figure began hurdling things at him. Artus cut through a chair and a holotable before a large sofa smashed into him, throwing his body into the window behind him. The glass shattered. The winds of the Coruscant morning whilstled around Artus. He wiped his cheek; a piece of glass had cut his face. Zyral engaged the figure in another duel. Artus moved back in to assist the Jedi Master. Before he could react, the figure spun and slashed his blade at Artus's arm. Artus felt a burning, searing pain envelop his arm; looking down, he realised with shock that the blade had sliced his arm off. He screamed in pain and fell back to his knees. In the brief moments he could open his eyes he saw his arm laying on the ground. Barran's lightsaber lay next to the lifeless fingers. The arm smoked from where the blade had through.
"Run Artus!" yelled Zyral. Artus scrambled across the floor, clutching his fallen master's lightsaber. The window was only meters away. He crawled closer, trying to ignore the agonizing pain radiating from his arm. He reached out to the windowsill, wincing as his hand clutched the frame. Shards of glass embedded in his hand. His robes were tattered and torn, and blood was streaming from his face. Clambering onto the ledge, Artus turned back to see the figure slice Zyral in half. The Jedi Master's body fell to the ground in pieces, and the figure turned to Artus. For a brief moment, Artus's brown eyes locked with the unmoving mask. Despite the wind rushing around him, Artus could hear the raspy, electronic breathing. The figure began walking towards him but Artus mustered the last of his strength. He reached out with the Force, searching for anything he could use. Finally, he lifted a chair and threw it at the figure. The figure slashed through the chair, sparks darting off his lightsaber. Looking back at the window, the figure could see Artus was gone.