Energy crackled and popped as the agent intercepted her blow —and disengaged.
The attack had failed, so Kyle selected another. The point-thrust was a relatively simple evolution. He dropped the point of his saber, extended his arm, and lunged.
Sariss saw it coming, blocked the other Jedi's blade, and spotted an error. Katarn's wrist was too low, a little below the shoulder, opening the Rebel to a head cut. She lunged as he pulled back, saw a thin red line appear on his right cheek, and felt a sense of satisfaction. The upstart had been lucky — but she would literally cut him down to size. Yun would be revenged.
Kyle saw a flash of color and heard the blade sizzle past his face. His nostrils were filled with the odor of burnt flesh. His own. Pain followed. Pain layered on pain. He knew the cut was a harbinger of things to come. He was tired, hurt, and less experienced. The Dark Jedi intended to wear him down. What he needed was a quick, decisive conclusion. The agent assumed the on-guard position and called upon Tal's knowledge. What would the ancient Master do if confronted with a similar situation?
Sariss sensed the other Jedi's hesitation, mistook it for fear, and launched a feint. It was directed at Kyle's belly. He fell for it, saw her pull back, and knew the lunge would follow. He managed to parry, felt resistance as her saber clashed with his, and found the answer he'd been searching for .. .
Tal had been a student of another no-less-formal school of swordsmanship that was half-physical and half-spiritual in nature. There were many evolutions, and many "cuts," but only one that "sang" with the moment.
"The Flowing Water Cut" was for use when going blade-to-blade with an opponent. Timing was everything ... and as Sariss withdrew . . . Kyle knew that he should "expand," following with body and spirit, like water into a vessel. And there, within the calm, to cut slowly and release Sariss from her body.
Action followed thought. His blade strobed through the other Jedi's chest and the point emerged between her shoulder blades. There was very little blood since the wound was cauterized as it was made. Sariss looked surprised. Her eyes went down toward the point of entry, up toward his, and then were gone. She fell over backward, hit the ground, and skidded on loose gravel.
Kyle just stood there, swaying slightly, struggling to absorb what had occurred. He was alive, still alive, which both amazed and pleased him. But what next? Find Jan? Search for Jerec? Both ideas had merit, but how?
Cliffs stood hard and black off to his left, but the sun had started to rise, throwing: soft pinkish light onto a pinnacle of stone. The shadow fell downward — and pointed to the Valley below.
Suddenly, and without knowing how he knew, Kyle knew where to go. He said good-bye to Yun, who had sacrificed his life for something he had just started to understand, and wished the Jedi well.
Gravel crunched under the agent's boots as he followed the shadow toward the opening and that which waited below. There were sentries to contend with, and a patrol on its way out into the badlands, but Kyle ignored them. A Commando saw him and stepped forward. "Halt! Who goes there?"
Kyle extended a hand. "You have seen me many times before —and are aware of my authority."
The Commando nodded. "Sorry, sir — I didn't realize it was you."
The Jedi nodded and proceeded on his way. The area around the opening had been cleared of debris. The stairs were wide enough to accommodate four men walking abreast. They were cut from solid stone and followed the curve of the wall.
The light improved as the sun rose and sent rays of light down into the chamber.
The air thickened around Kyle's shoulders, and he heard a moaning sound, as if from a multitude in pain. Alien hieroglyphics appeared on the walls — and the Jedi reached out to touch them as the stairs carried him downward.
Light gleamed off something down in the murk. It attracted the Rebel's eye and made him curious. What could it be? A piece of scrap? An artifact?
Kyle arrived on the chamber floor, made his way to the area where the reflection had appeared, and toed a pile of debris. Metal clattered as the Jedi spotted what he'd been searching for.
He knew the object by feel alone: A multi-tool, similar to the one he carried, but older. Anyone could have dropped the device — but something, he wasn't sure what, caused the Jedi to examine the object more closely. He turned toward the light and saw an engraving: "To Dad, from Kyle."
The Jedi felt a lump form in his throat as he realized that his father had made it this far and, while unable to free the spirits within, had set their rescue in motion. Assuming that he lived long enough to complete the mission, that is.
What had his father felt? Having come all that way? And lacking the ability to go farther? Had he been frustrated? Fearful? There was no way to know, but one thing was for sure: The knowledge that Morgan Katarn had been there, and would expect him to persevere, strengthened Kyle's resolve.
The multi-tool made a comfortable weight in Kyle's pocket as he moved forward. His senses were heightened — and a thousand impressions flooded his mind. He had originally viewed the Force in
the abstract, as something outside of himself, but not any longer.
Now Kyle felt at one with the Force. It surged and seethed as if only barely contained. It trickled through the pores in his skin, filled each living cell, and displaced pain and fatigue. He felt light, strong, powerful.
Was that good? Or something to be feared? The half-man's death still weighed on the Jedi's conscience and caused him to question his motives. Cautiously, because he was both unsure of himself and of what he might encounter; Kyle approached a heavily shadowed arch. He stepped through and into the Valley of the Jedi.
A thousand tombs marched across the Valley floor. Each was different, as unique as the spirit to whom it had been dedicated, and a work of art. Years, perhaps hundreds of them, had been lavished on the vast memorial.
Kyle was overwhelmed by the pure spectacle of the place. He wandered down a corridor from which narrower walkways branched to either side. He saw statues, some of which were modeled on humans while others depicted aliens, each rendered in astonishing, lifelike detail. Here, captured in stone, was the Army of Light. Who were the artisans? And what happened to them? The bouncers seemed like the most likely candidates — although there was no way to be sure.
A head appeared above all others, and Kyle walked in that direction. It was Lord Hoth, his eyes focused on something Kyle couldn't see, a hand on his lightsaber. The Jedi looked so real, so powerful, that the Rebel half-expected him to speak.
And there, just to the Jedi Master's right, stood another familiar figure. The man stood tall in spite of the years that weighed on his shoulders. He wore a long, white beard, and even though a hood concealed most of the Jedi's face, Kyle knew who it was. Still loyal, still at his master's side, Tal waited through the years.
Hoth, and the manner in which he towered over the figures around him, gave Kyle an idea. He glanced around, spotted a tomb with a flat top, and made his way over to it. A ledge ran around the structure and served as a step. Gargoyles, their eyes bulging, functioned as handholds.
Once on top, Kyle had an excellent view of the Valley. He saw a row of columns, realized someone had been tied to one of them, and knew who it was. Jan was alive!
Kyle felt his heart leap, crossed to the other side of the slab, and looked down. Another tomb stood two meters below. The top had been sculptured to resemble the Jedi within. Kyle landed on the warrior's forehead and jumped from there to the ground. The columns were clearly visible . . . and he jogged in that direction.
If the Rebel had been more deliberate and less focused on Jan, he might have noticed a statue unlike those around it. A statue that not only appeared to be alive — but actually was.
Boc followed Kyle with his eyes but was otherwise still. The other Jedi might have sensed his presence if it hadn't been for a carefully constructed mind shield. Katarn was alive! But that was impossible .. . wasn't it? Where was Sariss? Yun? Both questions were answered whe
n Boc spotted the youngest Jedi's lightsaber, a sure sign that they were dead. No great loss in Boc's opinion — but surprising nonetheless. The Rebel led a charmed life — but not for much longer.
Unaware of Boc and the nature of his thoughts, Kyle broke into the clearing. Jan saw him and grinned. "Kyle! Nice of you to drop in."
Kyle thumbed the switch on Yun's lightsaber and used the weapon to cut Jan's bonds. Kyle's words were light — but hid a deep sense of relief. "This will cost you . . ."
Jan felt the restraints fall free and rubbed her arms. "Send the bill . . . I'm ready to pay"
"And so you will," Boc said coldly "and so you will." There was a thump as the Dark Jedi jumped down off his perch, followed by the angry buzz of clashing sabers.
Kyle held against the other Jedi's strength — and pushed with all his might. Boc smiled. His teeth looked like tombstones. "All things come to an end, Katarn — give Maw, Sariss, and Yun my best."
The words covered action, and Jan shouted a warning. "Kyle! Watch out! He has two sabers!"
The Rebel jumped backward as the second bar of energy blurred past his face. He had noticed the second weapon during the earlier confrontation and forgotten it. A stupid, possibly fatal, mistake. Kyle was afraid. Boc sensed the emotion and shuffled forward.
"Perhaps you would like to learn something before you die. The use of two blades, one to support the other, can be traced back thousands of years and was common to both our species. The invention of lightsabers has done nothing to lessen the effectiveness of this strategy — as you are about to learn."
Actually thanks to Tal, and the old man's considerable experience, Kyle knew something about fighting with two blades, which meant he knew how dangerous such a combination could be. Not that the knowledge would help him much, given the fact that he had only one weapon at his disposal.
"One weapon only?" a voice said within his head. "What of your mind? Are you Jedi? Or something less?"
The words, and the fact that Rahn was with him, brought new hope.
Boc advanced. His lightsabers seemed to dance before him. They hummed with barely contained malice and wove intricate patterns in the air. The movements had a hypnotic quality — and Kyle struggled to resist it.
Energy sizzled as blade met blade. Kyle retreated as Boc launched a flurry of blows. The Dark Jedi grinned triumphantly shuffled forward, and "felt" an additional threat. He spun toward Jan. The Rebel threw the rocks as hard as she could — but to no avail. The missiles exploded as the sabers touched them and hurled red-hot bits of rock in every direction. Jan staggered and fell over backward as a bolt of energy hit her mind.
The rock attack hadn't inflicted any damage, but it did buy some time. Kyle took advantage of the opportunity by summoning the Force, forging a spear of midnight black, and hurling it toward his opponent's chest.
Boc staggered, dropped the lightsabers, and grabbed the invisible shaft. Kyle watched, fascinated as the other Jedi struggled to remove the weapon and failed to do so. He tripped, fell, and collapsed. A statue towered above him. Newar Forrth, one-time commander of the Third Legion of Light, appeared pleased.
The sound of distant laughter echoed through Kyle's mind. "Wonderful! That's the second time you called on the dark side. Now do you understand? The power is all around you, waiting to be used. Kill the girl, cut your ties to the past, and claim the future."
Unaware of the interchange, Jan ran into his arms. "Kyle! Are you all right? I don't know what you did — but it worked."
The Rebel wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "Come — let's find Jerec."
"That shouldn't be too hard," Jan replied. "Look!"
Kyle looked and saw shafts of light shoot upward to play across the ceiling. They ran in that direction. Jan ducked as a screamer howled by her head. "What was that?"
"Don't worry about it," Kyle responded. "It can't hurt you."
"Can't hurt you, can't hurt you, can't hurt you," a chorus of voices echoed, only to be supplanted by a tidal wave of incomprehensible babble that closed around them.
Many of the spirits were insane, having lost track of reality during eons of imprisonment, but some were not. They offered conflicting advice. "Refuse the dark side, boy."
"Leave us! Flee while you can!"
"Fight him, son, for there is no alternative."
There were other voices as well — some of which spoke alien tongues —but none as clear as the one from within. "To know where evil grows and permit it to flourish is to accept responsibility for all that follows."
A mound appeared in front of them. It marked the center of the Valley and the point from which the rays of light emanated.
Someone had left footprints in the soft soil, and Kyle followed them up onto the mound. Jan followed. The light, which had grown more intense, strobed upward and splashed across the rocky ceiling.
Kyle could "feel" the power gathering around him and knew time was running out. "Stop him!" a disembodied voice begged. "Stop him before he enslaves the billions we fought to defend! Even now he strengthens the bonds that hold us here! He plans to feed on us, to take our power, to use it for evil!"
Kyle started to reply but stopped when the ground started to shake and debris rained from above. It was difficult to walk, so he scrambled on all fours, determined to reach the top of the mound. The center was hollow. Dirt fell away from the edge and avalanched into the depression below.
Jan arrived at Kyle's side, looked into the mound, and was amazed by what she saw — Jerec, quivering with the power that coursed through his body, light spilling from empty eye sockets. His voice came from everywhere at once. "Yes! Join me! Share the power!"
Kyle moved forward; Jan grabbed for his arm and missed. The Jedi jumped, fell through the air, and absorbed the impact with his legs. His lightsaber sizzled as he turned it on. "Yessss," the chorus chanted, "free us that we might merge with the Force!"
Jerec chose to ignore the lightsaber and the spirit voices. He spoke without turning. "Your efforts are misguided. Can you hear them? Whining and sniveling? Is that what you seek to become? Another voice in a chorus of weakness?"
Jerec turned, extended his hand, and triggered an explosion. Kyle was propelled up and out of the chamber and onto the Valley floor. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. He was lying there, trying to breathe, when an icy wind swept through the Valley.
It circled slowly at first, as if gathering energy, before steadily picking up speed. Dust and other bits of debris were vacuumed up and whirled about. Voices wailed as mist billowed and the temperature continued to drop.
Kyle made it to one knee as Jerec levitated up and out of the mound. Voices moaned as large chunks of the inner mound and paving stones followed him up.
Kyle stood, heart pounding, staring upward. What could he do? Jerec had claimed the Valley's power, had already harnessed it, and would soon rule what remained of the Empire. And then what? A new Empire, worse than the first, and a whole lot bigger. Despair threatened to pull him down. To come so far only to have failed those who counted on him was worse than death itself.
The Rebel watched Jerec rise and marveled at the power the Dark Jedi had unleashed. Power waiting to be used, power that could defeat Jerec, that could pull him down . . .
Kyle brought himself up short. What had Jerec said? That's the second time you called on the dark side. What was the magic number, anyway? The repetitions beyond which one was changed? Was it three? Four? Five?
Suddenly, Kyle knew that the number didn't matter — that the light side offered more than enough power for any task he would be called upon to do, and that knowledge was the key.
The Jedi closed his eyes, resisted the temptation to look at the light that strobed against his eyelids, and sent a series of commands. He gathered the Force around him, shaped it into a protective cocoon, and scaled Jerec within.
Jerec felt a sense of warmth and peace as the cocoon of light formed around him. It was a wonderful sensation �
�� and one he enjoyed, until something went wrong. The Jedi fell, struggled to stay aloft, and fell again. Something, or someone, had cut his access to the dark side of the Force . . . Who? How?
The Dark Jedi fought to break through and knew it was too late. The dark, nearly black column of energy that pushed up out of the mound had been severed, and he, along with the rocks that had risen with him, plummeted to the ground.
Kyle opened his eyes, saw the Dark Jedi fall, and knew he had taken the correct approach. By doing something positive, by protecting Jerec from evil, the battle had been won. The ground under Kyle's boots crunched as he approached the fallen Jerec.
Though stunned and badly bruised, Jerec was otherwise uninjured. In spite of his blindness, the Dark Jedi knew that Kyle stood over him with lightsaber in hand. His own weapon lay ten meters away — but may as well have been on the far side of the planet. Having never shown mercy to others, Jerec sought none for himself.
"Strike me down and the power of the dark side will be yours! It was I who took your father's head . . . or have you forgotten?"
Kyle looked down at the man before him and felt a strange sense of pity. Here he was, physically powerless, but still hoping to bring Kyle over or, failing that, to secure a quick and painless death.
The Rebel shook his head. "No, I haven't forgotten, and I never will." He extended his hand, felt the Dark Jedi's lightsaber strike the surface of his palm, and then threw the weapon to Jerec.
Jerec rejoiced in the agent's stupidity, leaped to his feet, and thumbed the power switch. Energy crackled as he moved forward, and Kyle came to meet him. The Rebel spun on the ball of his right foot, executed what Tal called the "falling leaf" and "slashed from the sky"
Jerec stutter-stepped, brought his weapon up and across, and waited for the inevitable result. Something warm touched his side, sliced inward, and stopped just short of his spine.
It took Jerec a moment to understand what it was, to realize that his life had come to an end, and to start his long, dark journey.
Jedi Knight Page 12
