The Loranda came in to land fifty meters from where his own ship had touched down. Bane stood impa.s.sively, waiting for Zannah to emerge. When she did, there was a young man with her. The Dark Lord could feel the Force in him, though its presence was weak. When he saw that the man was missing his right hand, everything fell into place.

"We were supposed to meet at Ambria," he snarled at Zannah. "Why did you come here? And why did you bring him?"

"I came to warn you," she answered quickly. "The Jedi know you survived the thought bomb."

"Because of him," Bane said, nodding in the other man's direction.

"He was going to speak to the Jedi Council," Zannah explained. "If he vanished, they might dismiss the rumors that you still lived."

"Why didn't you just kill him?" Bane asked, his tone ominous.

"He's a healer" was her immediate reply. "He knows how to free you from the orbalisks."

Zannah's answers came too quickly to suit Bane. It was as if she had already had this argument, likely rehearsing it in her head over and over in preparation for this meeting.

"Is this true?" he demanded of the other man. "I can't do it here,"

Darovit answered. "I need supplies. Special equipment. It's dangerous, but I think it can be done."

Bane hesitated. Not because of the potential danger; he had known that any procedure to rid himself of his infestation would be fraught with risk. But now that he knew his failures with the Holocron were not linked to the orbalisks feeding on his power, he wanted to reevaluate the decision to remove them.

The sight of another ship appearing over his apprentice's shoulder, still too far in the distance to make out a model or affiliation, put an end to his deliberations. An instant later he felt the unmistakable light-side power of those on board.

Zannah must have felt it too; she turned and looked in that direction, then turned back to him with a worried grimace.

"Is something wrong?" the young healer asked, noticing the exchange.

"What is it?"

"We were followed," Zannah muttered.

The ship was coming in quickly, too fast for them to get into their own craft and take to the sky. If they tried, the other vessel would shoot them down before they took off.

"Inside the fortress," Bane ordered. "The Jedi have found us."

Chapter 21.

The Justice Crusader, Master Raskta's ship, was easily the fastest vessel Johun had ever been on. A small, personal attack cruiser, she required a crew of four. Fortunately for Johun, there were four others with him on board, all of them clothed in the simple brown robes that marked them as members of the Jedi Order.

Master Raskta Lsu, an Echani, sat at the controls of her ship. She had the alabaster skin, pure white hair, and silver eyes common to all her species. She was almost as tall as Johun, with the muscles and physique one would expect in a species that valued physical combat as the highest form of art and personal expression. Named in honor of the legendary Echani warrior Raskta Fenni, acclaimed by many to be the greatest duelist of her time, Master Raskta had spent her life honing her martial skills so that she could one day equal, and even surpa.s.s, her namesake.

She had achieved the rare and prestigious rank of Jedi Weapons Master.

Eschewing all other fields of study and forsaking the development of her other Force talents to focus exclusively on the lightsaber and combat, she had transformed herself into a living weapon.

Now tasked with training apprentices in the forms of lightsaber combat, Raskta had been part of the campaign on Ruusan. Wielding a blue-bladed lightsaber in each hand, and shunning any form of armor, she was a terrifying figure to behold on the battlefield. Johun vividly remembered her carving great swaths of destruction through the heart of the enemy ranks, leaving a litter of bodies in her wake. It was said that, by the end of the war, as many Sith Lords had fallen under her twin blades as had been killed by the thought bomb.

In the gunner's chair across from the pilot was Sarro Xaj, the human male who had served as Raskta's Padawan on Ruusan. A year older than Johun, Sarro had olive-brown skin and a single topknot of black hair. He was also the largest human Johun had ever encountered. Over two meters tall and 150 kilos of raw muscle, he could easily be mistaken for a hairless Wookiee rather than a man. Yet despite his ma.s.s, he was still quick enough to s.n.a.t.c.h a zess-fly out of the air. Elevated to the rank of Jedi Knight seven years before, Sarro had chosen to follow in his Master's path, focusing on mastering a ma.s.sive double-bladed lightsaber measuring almost three meters in length. Johun imagined there were few beings in the galaxy who could stand up under the ferocious a.s.sault of his weapon's blue blades.

Handling the navigation in the back of the vessel was Master Worror, an Ithorian. His long, flat neck curved forward and up to a head shaped like the letter T, with his large, bulbous eyes on either end of the cross stroke. This odd appearance had led to his species being commonly called hammerheads by the ignorant and insensitive.

Master Worror's surname could only be p.r.o.nounced by beings possessing the two mouths and four throats unique to Ithorian anatomy. Johun had heard tales of Ithorian Jedi channeling the Force to transform their multiple voices into a devastating sonic weapon.

Master Worror, however, was a healer by training, and his power lay in that direction.

He had been one of General Hoth's advisers on Ruusan, and a key to victory in many battles, even though he didn't even carry a light-saber.

The Ithorian's role was not to engage the enemy but rather to provide support through both his healing abilities and the rare art of battle meditation. Although his talent was not strong enough to single-handedly alter the outcome of a large-scale conflict, in close quarters Worror could draw upon the Force to give strength to the bodies, minds, and spirits of those around him, enhancing the skills and abilities of his allies.

Located beside the navigator in the rear of the vessel, the fourth member of the crew, Master Farfalla, provided support for the pilot, gunner, and navigator. He called up astronav charts, engine readings, weapons status, scanner reports, and anything else the others needed to do their jobs.

Johun was seated up front in the c.o.c.kpit with Raskta and Sarro, occupying the pa.s.senger's chair behind the pilot. Until they reached Tython, his only job was to stay out of everyone else's way.

Using the long-abandoned hypers.p.a.ce route indicated on the datacard they'd discovered in the Archives, the Justice Crusader had penetrated the Deep Core. Master Raskta had expressed her concern at the start of the voyage: According to current records the hypers.p.a.ce lanes they were traversing had been known to momentarily collapse without warning. A ship traveling anywhere along the hypers.p.a.ce corridor during the nanosecond before it reformed would be lost forever. Combined with the other dangers of the Deep Core-including wandering black holes that would rip a vessel apart, even in hypers.p.a.ce-the instability of the route had led to it falling into disuse and finally being forgotten for well over a thousand years.

Worror had calculated the risk of a hypers.p.a.ce collapse during their journey at just over 2 percent-more than high enough to make Johun breathe a sigh of relief when they emerged unscathed a few thousand kilometers away from their destination.

"Weapons primed and ready," Sarro's voice told everyone over the intercom. "Any friends we have to worry about?"

"Nothing in orbit," Farfalla reported. "Looks like we're clean."

"I'm taking us in," Raskta told them. "See if you can find anything."

"Picking up an ion trail," Farfalla said as they neared the planet's atmosphere. "Looks like we're right behind them."

"Locking on to the ion trail... locked on." Even over the crackle of an intercom, Worror's deep voice resonated through the ship.

"Engaging autopilot" Raskta said. "Let's see where this takes us. Sarro, keep your trigger finger ready."

The autopilot dropped them down into Tython's atmosphere, and for several seconds the only thing Johun could see through the c.o.c.kpit viewport was a wall of gray cloud. When they broke free their destination was immediately obvious.

"I think I know where we're headed," Sarro mumbled.

Below them was a flat, empty field virtually devoid of life. A dark fortress was visible on the horizon, the only significant structure in sight.

"Picking up two small vessels on the ground" Farfalla told them as they drew nearer. "n.o.body outside, though."

They were close enough now that Johun could make out two melted towers rising up on either side of the stronghold's front face.

"Reading life-forms inside the building," Farfalla noted. "Looks like...

three."

"Only three?" Sarro mumbled, sounding disappointed. "This might be too easy."

"Don't count on that," Farfalla warned him as Raskta brought the Justice Crusader in for a landing.

Zannah was trying to concentrate, gathering her mental energies for the coming battle. She was distracted, however, by her Master's own preparations.

Darth Bane was prowling back and forth like an angry rancor, his lightsaber already drawn. She could feel the dark side building inside him, fueled by his rage-his never-ending hatred of the Jedi; his resentment toward Darovit for exposing them; his anger at her for leading the Jedi here to Tython. At any moment she expected to see the bloodl.u.s.t of the orbalisks unleashed, but Bane kept his fury in check, saving it for the coming battle.

Her Master had led them back inside the stronghold to a large, open room with an exit at either end. A single door would have been easier to defend, but he was wary of getting trapped. If the Jedi cornered them, they would settle in for a long siege and wait for reinforcements to arrive. As the last two surviving Sith, Zannah and her Master did not have the same luxury, so it was important that they keep alternate escape routes open.

The room was empty, completely devoid of any furniture. Based on that fact and its great size-forty meters by thirty-she guessed it had been built as some kind of practice arena or training center. In addition to the exits on either end, there was a small door on one of the side walls that led to a tiny, dead-end room. It had probably served at one time as a storage closet for weapons, targets, and other implements used in drills or training.

At Bane's instruction, she'd stashed the datacard from the Archives inside the closet, and her Master had done the same with Belia Darzu's Holocron. At her suggestion, Darovit was hiding in there, too. He was unarmed, and he would be of no help to either side.

"Don't come out until the fighting's done" she'd warned him, drawing a sour, disapproving look from her Master. "He'll only get in the way"

she'd explained as Darovit had closed himself in.

Now there was nothing to do but wait for the enemy to arrive.

Fortunately-or unfortunately-they didn't have to wait long.

The doors on either end of the room burst open simultaneously, the Jedi splitting their numbers in two to better coordinate the attack. The first group-a female Echani wielding a blue lightsaber in each hand and a Jedi Master in garish clothes with a golden blade- charged straight for Bane.

The other two-a lean, quick-looking Jedi armed with a green lightsaber and a gigantic mountain of a man spinning a ma.s.sive blue, double-bladed weapon-came at her.

Zannah ignited her own double-bladed lightsaber and threw up a twirling wall of defense, though her weapon looked puny and insignificant set against the blue monster brandished by the larger of her two opponents.

Before they could engage her, she backpedaled toward one of the corners, stopping several meters from the intersection of the two walls. This allowed her to protect her flanks, but still left enough s.p.a.ce for her to duck, dodge, and evade the weapons of her enemies.

From the corner of her eye she saw Bane take a completely different approach. Protected by his...o...b..lisk armor, he charged forward to meet the two Jedi Masters confronting him head-on.

And then her enemies fell on her. It took only seconds for her to realize that the bigger man was by far the more dangerous opponent. In the time it took for the smaller man to strike at her twice with his green blade, she had batted aside half a dozen attacks from the other. There was a marked difference in the style and effectiveness of their blows, as well.

The skills of the Jedi with the green lightsaber were raw and basic. When he struck, it was with either strength or speed, but not both at the same time. His blade came in either high or low, but never altered its plane during the attack. In contrast, the big man attacked her from creative and unexpected angles, the ma.s.sive blue blades changing course midthrust.

Each offensive was a model of lethal efficiency-quick and powerful strikes and counterstrikes that kept an opponent guessing.

Yet as long as Zannah kept her blade spinning to hold its momentum, she was able to ward off both their attacks easily using whirling parries, in large part because the Jedi with the green lightsaber was inadvertently working at cross purposes to his partner. He was attempting to alternate his forays with those of the bigger man, expecting they would take turns pressing forward, then withdrawing, always keeping Zannah on defense. But the incredible reach of the bigger man's weapon made it difficult for him to unleash a sustained volley without fear of injuring or even killing his companion when the other man moved in to join the fray. As a result, the bigger man constantly had to step back, pull up, or lay off his attacks. He was forced into an awkward rhythm of advance and retreat, his timing and strategy dictated as much by his ally as by his opponent.

Zannah noted all this from behind the impa.s.sable wall of her spinning twin blades, content to play a completely pa.s.sive role in the encounter.

Were it not for the big man's brilliance, she would have quickly switched to an aggressive sequence and easily dispatched the smaller man. But were it not for the smaller man's mediocrity, her defensive talents would have been pushed to the very limits by her more skilled opponent. The arrangement suited Zannah just fine, allowing her to play them off against each other. She didn't need to kill them; she only needed to hold them at bay until Bane, protected by the invulnerable orbalisk sh.e.l.ls, killed his two opponents and came to her aid.

She waited until it was time for the smaller man to attack again, then gauged his painfully predictable incoming stroke. Knowing exactly where it would end by watching where it began, she was able to momentarily divert her attention from the combat to see how her Master was doing.

To her surprise, both of Bane's opponents were still standing; proof they were exceptionally skilled combatants. She also noticed that a fifth Jedi had entered the room: an Ithorian who stood apart from the battle, his eyes closed as if he was meditating. And then she turned her focus back to her own melee, just in time to avoid certain death.

The glance in her Master's direction had lasted only a fraction of a second, but in the brief interval of her distraction the larger man had sprung forward, jabbing the tip of one of his blades toward her eye like a spear. Zannah snapped her head to the side at the last possible instant, hearing the hiss as the blade sheared off a lock of her hair.

The sudden movement threw off her timing and balance, and as her spinning lightsaber slapped away the blow she had earlier antic.i.p.ated from the smaller man's green blade, it lost its centripetal momentum and faltered.

In the split second it took to roll her wrists and start the intricate, whirling patterns of her blades again, she was vulnerable. The big man sliced high at her head, forcing her to duck, then chopped in low at her feet on the backstroke, causing her to jump before she could properly set herself. She avoided the swipe, but landed clumsily on her feet. Another blow rained down on her. With her body out of position, she was forced to block its path rather than deflect it to the side. The power of the impact sent her reeling, and she fell to the floor.

The man with the green lightsaber saved her. He leapt in to finish her off, blocking his companion from doing the same. Against his pedestrian a.s.sault she was able to regain her feet and slide into the sequence of moves that were the foundation of her virtually impenetrable style.

There was a brief instant when she saw an opening-but rather than choose to kill the man with the green lightsaber she let him live, knowing he was a greater hindrance to his allies than he was to her.

From across the room one of the other Jedi called out, "Johun! Sarro! We need reinforcements!"

"Go," the big man shouted. "I can handle this one."

And suddenly the man with the green lightsaber was gone.

The olive-skinned giant reared up to his full height; Zannah realized he was even taller and more heavily muscled than Bane. The air sizzled as his long lightsaber carved an elaborate flourish around his body, then another above his head. He smiled down at her knowingly.

Then he leapt forward and the real battle began.

It had been many years since Farfalla had fought while empowered by Worror's battle meditation. He had forgotten how much quicker and stronger the Ithorian's amazing talent made him feel. The Force flowed through him with greater power, filling him with its might. Yet even with their enhanced abilities, he wondered if they would survive the coming battle.

As they burst into the room a man who could only have been Darth Bane charged recklessly toward them. In any other instance the move would have spelled a quick end to the encounter, as Raskta raced ahead of Farfalla to carve the Sith to pieces.

Raska's blue blades flickered too quickly for the eye to see, neutralizing her enemy's initial, wild attack then landing half a dozen lethal blows to his chest and abdomen. But instead of toppling, the big man kept coming, never even breaking stride. He would have plowed straight into Raskta, trampling her under his heavy boots, had she not cartwheeled to the side at the last possible instant.

Bane never stopped, his momentum carrying him straight toward Farfalla.

The Jedi Master had a moment to register the strange armor coat of hard, shiny sh.e.l.ls he wore beneath his clothes. Then he, too, leapt to the side to avoid being crushed, surviving only because his reflexes were heightened by Worror's power.

Raskta was already back on her feet and flying through the air toward him. Bane spun and threw a wave of invisible dark side power at her. A Weapons Master was not skilled at defending against enemy Force attacks.

The impact of the wave would have plastered her against the wall and crushed her had Farfalla not thrown up a shield to protect the Echani.

Even so her muscular body was plucked from the air and hurtled backward, though she twisted and turned so she landed on her feet.

Farfalla saw the Sith Lord turn toward him, sensing the intervention that had saved Raskta's life. Bane unleashed a barrage of Sith lightning, gathering and releasing his power at the speed of thought. The Jedi threw up a Force barrier to shield himself, but the electricity tore right through it and arced toward him. Then suddenly Raskta was there to save his life, repaying a debt that was only a few seconds old as she threw herself in front of him. Fueled by Worror's battle meditation, she switched styles seamlessly, and her arms and blades became a blur as they carved figure eights in the air to catch and absorb the bolts of dark side energy.

Their enemy fell upon them again, following up the lightning with pure aggression. Raskta rushed ahead of Farfalla to meet this second charge.

She crouched low, viciously slashing at his thighs and calves, attempting to leave their opponent crawling legless on the floor. Her blades carved through his boots and sliced wide gashes in his pants, only to reveal more of the chitinous sh.e.l.ls.

Bane brought his lightsaber down at the Echani, who crossed her blades into an X, attempting to block and trap her opponent's weapon at the point of intersection. But the Sith's move was only a feint meant to distract her, and at the last instant he pulled his weapon back and swung an elbow around to catch her in the ribs. The contact lifted her off her feet and sent her sprawling. Then he was past her, and bearing down on Farfalla.

The Jedi Master dropped into an elegant defensive stance to meet the charge.

"The handle!" Raskta gasped as she scrambled to her feet.