Chapter Three: Deserts and Valleys
It had been three days since the Wayward Guardian had crashed onto Moraband's surface. Artus had spent the majority of that time pulling sand and dust from the battered hyperdrive. Sev was undertaking the arduous work of rewiring the entire ship whilst Hanan repaired the onboard weapons. By the time R7 had got the speeder bike up and running, Artus's hands were calloused and bleeding. His robes had taken on a rusty tinge; a side effect of the frequent sandstorms that plagued the planet's surface.
The speeder sped across the dunes, leaving a thin cloud of dust behind it. Artus could see the red peaks of a mountain range through his scratched goggles. The lenses had a thin ring of sand around the edges. The wind flew through the Jedi's hair as the speeder cruised across the desert. Artus's eyes momentarily peeled off the view ahead and towards his scanner. If it was correct, then his destination was just beyond the mountain range. He had no idea how he was to get over the terrain, but that was a problem he had to face.
As he drew closer to the mountains, Artus noticed a small opening between two cliffs. A large rock archway, cut from the red stone, marked the entrance to the Valley of the Sith Lords. A wave of fear washed over his body as he crossed the threshold.
The Valley of the Sith Lords held an aura of darkness. Despite the sun being clear in the sky, the whole area was enveloped in a veil of shadow. The edges were adorned with dozens of large structures. Each was cut from the mountain but decorated with smooth black rocks and golden writing. At the far end of the Valley lay a large black temple. It was a gigantic monument, with black pillars holding its intricate façade up. Two towers stood at each side of the entrance. Each tower was an obelisk of stone, with pyramids of glowing red crystal at the spires. Artus drove to the edge of the structure, coming to a stop at the base of a vast staircase. The Jedi ignited one of his blades. The yellow plasma cut through the shadows. Remembering his Jedi training, Artus allowed the fear to dissipate from his body. He wished Hanan and Sev were with him, but he knew this path was for him alone.
Atop the stairs was a small plinth of red sandstone. Artus noticed a triangle-shaped groove in the top. He closed his eyes and fell to his knees, mediating on his next steps. Without thinking, he moved through the Force to grab a holocron from his satchel. He opened his eyes and rose to his feet. Placing the holocron on the plinth, his eyes were drawn to the text scratched onto its side: Bane of the Sith. The holocron glowed as it touched the rock. A soft red light illuminated Artus's face. His attention was stolen by a crumbling sound ahead. Two black rocks slid, revealing a doorway. A black robed figure emerged from the opening. The figure walked towards Artus.
"So, another lost Jedi wanders into my tomb." It spoke with a cold voice. Instinctively, Artus pointed his lightsaber at the figure.
"Who the hell are you?" The figure stood motionless.
"I am who you seek. For I am the one who built the foundations on which the Jedi fell. I am the reason the Sith rule again." Artus ignited his second blade in response. The figure removed its hood, revealing a metal helmet with glowing red eyes. The figure raised its arms in a messianic way, as if it was a twisted prophet.
"I won't ask again."
"Do you not know my name?"
"I don't care to learn the names of Sith tyrants like you."
"Why, my child. I am no tyrant. I am the last of the first. I am Bane. Darth Bane of the Sith."