“I think, my friend,” she said, “you are well on your way.”
KORRIBAN
THE AIR ITSELF FELT THICK, AS IF IT WERE TRYING TO CHOKE BEN. IT was like … inhaling malice. Ben struggled not to cough, or shake off what seemed like a cloak of invisible cobwebs in the Force.
It was worse here than on Ziost. He wasn’t sure why; perhaps because this was home to the original Sith, and origins of things had power. He let calm ripple through him in the Force. His breathing became easier and some of the apprehension was chased away into the back of his mind.
Luke showed no sign of distress, though he was clearly on the alert. Jaina was somewhere in between the Skywalkers; she was calmer than Ben, but not as focused as Luke.
Vestara was a conundrum of conflicting emotions.
Concern mixed with—Ben could only describe it as giddiness. She wanted to shrink away from such potent dark-side energy, but at the same time yearned to approach it. He caught her eye and gave her a reassuring nod and smile, and she gave him one of her own—albeit a slightly shaky one.
“Check in,” Luke said. “Anyone sense anything?”
“Other than a desire to put on my cloak from Nam Chorios in the middle of a dry, hot world just to have something between me and the creepiness of this place, no,” Ben replied.
“I don’t sense Abeloth, or any of the Sith,” Jaina replied. “Just … smaller energies. Dark, though.”
“I sense them, as well,” Vestara said. “It’s … stronger than I anticipated.”
“You come from a world of Sith,” Ben said, not cruelly, but just curious. “This should be old hat for you.”
“We made our world,” Vestara said. “I’m used to it. Used to the eddies and flows. This … this is not my world.”
Her voice dropped to a hush on the last few words, and Ben understood. Her people were different—they’d had five thousand years to evolve into something that, while definitely Sith, was neither the true old or new Sith. They were unique.
“Those smaller energies are animals, not human or Keshiri,” Luke said. “But they’re there. Our arrival has not gone unnoticed.” He activated his lightsaber, and the rest did likewise. The familiar sound calmed Ben further until he felt … almost normal. He had been able to deal with Ziost alone at fourteen. He could handle Korriban with his father and cousin at sixteen.
“Let’s start with the citadel,” Luke said, and strode across the hard-baked sand toward it. Ben supposed he preferred a place that was intended for the living to dwell rather than a place for the dead, but truth be told, it was all unpleasant.
The complex, an ancient cloister, was encased by a high stone wall. The domes of the towers within were visible over the enclosure. The wall had seen better days. Once, it had been covered in blue tiles, a sort of mosaic. The few tiles that remained depicted unsettling images—fangs, eyes, claws.
Detritus that looked to be decades old was propped up beside the wall, and these pieces of odds and ends—depleted power core casings, portable deflector shields—had also seen better days. All of it was covered in a thick layer of sand, and none of it looked like it had been touched for years.
“I usually don’t think of the Sith as being messy,” Ben said.
“Our homes are meticulous,” said Vestara absently, frowning in concentration. She reached out a foot and nudged a rusted piece of something that once might have come out a landspeeder. A forty-year-old landspeeder.
“It certainly doesn’t look like anyone has been here for a while,” Luke said. “But looks can be deceiving.”
He followed the wall down to the gate, a four-meter slab of durasteel. This, too, showed red flakes of corrosion.
“What are we going to do, ring the doorbell?” Jaina asked.
“Let ourselves in,” Luke said. He lifted his hands slightly and concentrated; the others imitated him. At first the massive door resisted, then slowly, centimeter by centimeter, it began to rise.
Ben felt sweat bead on his forehead, and his muscles were quivering with the mental strain. Even Luke’s brow was deeply furrowed. They were able to lift the door only about six centimeters before it dropped down again with a definitive thud on the hard sand.
Ben dragged a hand over his forehead. “That shouldn’t have been that hard,” he said.
“No,” Luke said. “It’s been altered somehow. Perhaps in its creation the Sith used some of their alchemies. It can resist Force manipulation.”
“What about a good old-fashioned lightsaber?” suggested Jaina. “Durasteel is durasteel, isn’t it?”
Luke chuckled. Ben stared at him. Here in this forsaken, and—Ben had to be realistic—evil world, his father had chuckled.
“Let’s give it a shot,” Luke said.
All of them reactivated their lightsabers and began working together to cut a square hole, each taking one line. To Ben’s surprise, though it was slow going, it worked. Sometimes, it would seem, the more pragmatic solution was the simplest.
They put their shoulders to the square and pushed. Groaning in protest, it eventually, sullenly yielded, and there was a loud, echoing bang as it fell inward.
“And that’s definitely rung the doorbell,” Jaina murmured.
They moved inside quickly, their lightsabers providing more than enough illumination. Ben extended his senses, but found nothing more sinister than vermin lurking inside. They moved slowly through an archway; a few cautious steps forward brought them into a central courtyard. Balconies glowered down at them, and doorways, any doors long since gone, seemed like empty staring eyes. The sand beneath their feet had changed to black cobblestones. Their backs to one another, their lightsabers at the ready, they slowly looked around. It didn’t take much imagination to envision the balconies filled with dark-cloaked, hooded figures, or the yawning doorways opening onto terrors within.
But the reek of the dark side was old here. Not ancient, but certainly not fresh.
“There’s no one here,” Jaina said. The echoing effect of this place distorted her voice.
Vestara slowly nodded agreement. “It’s deserted.”
But could they really be sure? Ben wondered. “Do … should we search it?” This was a large place. Searching would take hours. And every minute they lingered here, the dark side had a chance to work its will upon them.
Luke focused a little longer, then shook his head. “No. We walked right into what could have been a perfect trap, and we’d be easy prey if anyone was here.”
“If … they wanted to harm us,” Vestara offered. Ben looked at her. Vestara sometimes told the truth when asked a direct question, but it was unlike her to volunteer information.
“What do you mean?” asked Jaina.
“Well,” Vestara continued, “if the whole plan is to hide, they wouldn’t come out even if we were easy prey.”
“A good point,” Luke said, “but this close? Your people are good, Vestara, but I don’t think so many of them could hide so completely from three Jedi.” To illustrate how confident he was, he extinguished his lightsaber.
Nothing happened.
“They may still be here on this world, but not at this site,” he said. “Let’s go. Daylight’s burning, and I don’t think we want to be out here at night.”
Ben couldn’t suppress a shudder.
* * *
The walk down the Valley of the Dark Lords was little better. The statues were enormous and loomed over them, casting long shadows literally now as the beings they represented did metaphorically in life. In those shadows, Ben felt cold.
“Why does this feel … wrong?” he wondered aloud. “I mean—I really thought we’d find them here.”
“It did seem like our best bet,” Jaina agreed glumly.
“We’ve only just started to look,” Luke pointed out. “And if Vestara’s guess is right—that any Sith that might be here are hiding—they could have sensed us approaching with enough time to flee the citadel, if not the planet.”
“And make
it look like no one had been there for years?” Ben asked skeptically.
“Don’t underestimate the Sith,” Vestara said. “But Master Skywalker is right. They might have left the citadel and be hiding among the ruins in small groups hoping we wouldn’t bother to check. It’s the sort of thing my—my father would do.”
Ben looked at her searchingly. It certainly did sound as though she was doing her best to be of help. Or maybe she was just setting them up, encouraging them to walk into places steeped in the dark side for some kind of ambush? Stang, how he hated this … if he could only know one way or the other where she stood. He still hoped that one day, that would come to pass … and that she would stand with him, with the light side.
“So,” he said, to take his mind off that line of thought, “we just … pick a tomb and start poking around?”
“If you have a better idea, I’m open to suggestions,” Luke said with a touch of wryness.
Ben didn’t.
These were worse, much worse, than the citadel. Ben could feel the chill of the dark side increase almost with every step they took. He extended his senses in the Force, bracing himself for the more intimate brush with the dark side energies lurking here like stagnant pools of ice water. They ascended the steep, long stairs up to the first tomb, craning their necks to look up into the hooded face that scowled down upon them.
There was no face carved on the statue, and that unsettled Ben more than any horrific snarl he might have encountered.
They reached the final step and paused, waiting for Luke’s instructions. Ben’s father stood looking as calm and unruffled as if he were comfortably in the Jedi Temple, but Ben could sense his alertness. There was a knot in his own stomach, and his brain was telling him, Flee, flee while you can, but he ignored it. He knew it for what it was—simple fear, not a true warning. The certainty produced a peacefulness, and the talons digging into him loosened their grip on his mind.
Luke stepped forward and placed a hand on the tomb, his brow furrowing in concentration. He stepped back and shook his head.
“The ancient masons did their work well. This tomb is completely sealed. There’s no ventilation, and I sensed nothing living inside. Let’s move on to the next one.”
The sensation of apprehension, of cold malice, didn’t lessen, even as they continued to find nothing in tomb after tomb. One or two of them had been broken into, but robbers—incredibly stupid or incredibly brave, Ben thought—had been there long before. All that remained were scattered coins, utensils, and the bones of the hapless beings that had been condemned to death simply to honor the dead Dark Lord. The tombs themselves were empty and covered with cobwebs.
Ben stepped gladly out of the shadows into the sunlight, feeble as it was, as they moved on to the next tomb.
“Dad,” he ventured, “I’m starting to think we’re going to come up empty-handed.”
“I think Ben’s right,” Jaina said. “So far, we’ve found zilch. This is starting to feel like one big waste of time.”
“Korriban is but one of many places with Sith history,” Luke reminded them. “It was a good idea to start looking here, but I agree that it’s looking more and more like we’re hunting in the wrong place.” He glanced meaningfully over at Vestara, who by either accident or design missed the look. “If we—”
The sudden surge in dark-side energy crashed on them like an unexpected wave. Anger, outrage, hatred, and murderous intent buffeted them. The feeling in the Force was echoed by a hair-raising howling sound that seemed to come from all directions at once.
The shadows cast by the looming figures of beings long dead seemed to come to life, but Ben realized almost immediately what the dark, uncannily fast creatures with glowing red eyes, three rows of teeth from which droplets of slaver fell, and strange wing-like extensions, had to be.
They had disturbed the guardians of the tombs, who were now descending, more than a dozen of them, with a single, driving thought: Kill the intruders.
And the Sith hounds would. Ben realized that almost at once. There were simply too many of them, and they were too strong with the dark side of the Force.
Ben had faced death before, and a peculiar calmness descended on him. He lifted his lightsaber, fixed his gaze with that of the leader, and prepared to slay as many of them as he could before the inevitable. The sudden, absurd thought came to him that they were much, much bigger than he had expected them to be.
What happened next stunned him.
Instead of lifting her lightsaber to do battle, Vestara extinguished the red blade. To Ben’s shock, she began to run.
Toward the dark blue and black wave of tuk’ata.
Her brown hair flying, Vestara lifted her hand and cried out a single word, sharply.
“Ur-kaa!”
The creatures skidded to a halt almost as if physically struck by the word, one of them falling gracelessly over its own feet as it tried to stop too quickly.
“Vestara, what—?” began Ben. She shot him a sharp look of warning, and he fell silent, glancing over at his dad and Jaina. They, too, had paused, like the tuk’ata, but were ready to spring into action in a heartbeat.
Slowly, their glowing red eyes fixed on Vestara, the Sith hounds sat, obedient, but only for this moment. Their tongues lolled, dripping, and their pseudo-wings flexed and strained.
Vestara continued to speak to them in the strange language. “Haa, neyo la yud masur kee, tah uhnah kahru lur shu.” They listened, ears pricked forward even as their baleful eyes flickered from her to fasten hungrily and hatefully upon the Jedi. When she had finished saying … whatever it was she was saying … they grew highly agitated. Then, to Ben’s astonishment, the tuk’ata pack cringed back, as if expecting a blow.
Vestara again spoke, still more firmly, more challengingly, projecting her strength in the Force.
“Na-hah ur su ka-haat. Su ka haru aat.” The dogs, for such they looked like now, if huge and impossibly dangerous, positively prostrated themselves, whimpering and shaking. Vestara paused for a moment, and then said something in a calmer, kinder voice.
“Eyah seh maat, shu kor huaan.” The tuk’ata leapt up and pranced around her, fawning on her, and then turned as one and raced off. Vestara lowered her hand, and Ben saw that despite her assertive stance, that hand was trembling slightly.
“What did you do?” he asked, stunned.
“I talked to them,” she said. With a barely visible effort, she calmed herself and her hand ceased to shake. “Jaina said earlier that the tuk’ata understood the Sith language. They exist to serve and protect the Sith, so … I told them to lead them to us if there were any here.” She met his gaze. “There are no Sith on Korriban.”
“And we’re supposed to believe that.” Jaina snorted. “And how very convenient that you just happen to speak the ancient Sith language.”
“The ship that brought my ancestors to Kesh is more than five thousand years old,” Vestara said. “The Old Tongue was preserved and passed down. Not everyone on Kesh knows it, but those who are apprentices and higher do. It’s part of our training.”
Jaina looked a bit nonplussed. “Well … you could have told us this before.”
Vestara smiled, a cold little smile that Ben didn’t like. “Why should I?” was all she said.
Anxious to avoid an argument, Ben said, “How do you know there aren’t any Sith here? They didn’t … talk back to you, did they?”
Vestara turned to him, the coldness dissolving as she spoke. “No, not with words. But you saw their reactions. I told them to find the Sith that were on this world, and they cowered. They were upset because they couldn’t please me, because there is no one for them to lead me to.”
It seemed believable. Hideous and alarming and violent as they were, the tuk’ata were, in the end, canines of a sort, and canine body language seemed to be universal. They had indeed cowered, seeming to beg forgiveness—a proper display for disappointing their “master.”
Jaina seemed about to retort,
but Luke said, unexpectedly, “I agree.”
Ben looked at his dad, astonished. Even Vestara seemed surprised. “You do? Why?”
“Their presences in the Force reflected their obsequious body language. Whatever it was you asked them, they couldn’t do it or give it to you.” Ben’s pleasure faded a little. So his dad was implying that Vestara was lying about what she had told the tuk’ata. He supposed he should have known.
“It also corroborates the evidence—or lack thereof—that we’ve seen so far. There’s nothing here to indicate that anyone’s been here for years. Too, I believe that I could distinguish human and Keshiri Force essences from the general miasma of dark-side energy.” He shook his head. “No, they’re not here.”
“So it’s another dead end,” Ben muttered.
“Oh, cheer up, Ben,” Vestara said, her eyes twinkling. “Think of all the other places we’re going to get to explore.”
Ben gave her an extremely dirty look.
“Fortunately we’re not the only ones searching,” Luke said. “Once we’re away from here I’ll contact the other vessels and see if they’ve discovered anything.”
“Then let’s go,” said Jaina. “I’m anxious to be on to the next one. I’m tired of playing hide-and-seek.”
The news was disappointing, to say the least. “Nothing at all?” Luke asked the fourth group they had spoken with.
“No, Master Skywalker,” said the calm, almost flat voice of Raynar Thul. “We would most certainly have told you if we found even a clue. No Sith, no Abeloth, no sign that anyone has been here for centuries.”
They had received the same response from all of the search parties, including that led by Master Kyle Katarn. No one saw anything to suspect that either Abeloth or the Lost Sith Tribe had ever visited these worlds. Luke thanked them, doing his best to keep the sharpness of his disappointment—and growing concern—out of his voice.
He leaned back in the pilot’s chair and closed his eyes, rubbing them with the heel of his hand.
Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Ascension Page 12
