DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc, 20th Century Fox, Timothy Zahn, Barbara Hambly, YKW and the other writers of the expanded Star Wars Universe. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
The door slammed shut, locking Vaiya in and Drianna and Derrin out. They ran to the controls, and Drianna immediately began attempting an override, but barely a few moments had passed when the bad feeling she had had earlier suddenly magnified a hundred percent.
Derrin lightly brushed her arm as he turned, his face drawn and taunt. Drianna turned to follow his gaze, and caught her breath.
"Great Force," she whispered.
A man stood before them, draped in a black cloak that covered his head. But his face, marked brightly with a scarlet red and jet black, stared out at them plainly, his blazing yellow-green eyes seeming to have a light of their own.
He seemed irritated as he gazed at the two Jedi, his mouth curving slightly, the upper lip lifting just a touch to reveal that there was indeed flesh beneath the markings. Derrin shuddered, and Drianna found that she wasn't breathing as well as she had thought.
"Stand aside," the man ordered. His voice was low, smooth, with just a touch of raspiness to it. In the open air, it seemed more like deep toned wind, designed only to intimidate.
It worked.
Derrin took a step back, but then reconsidered. He pulled his lightsaber from his belt, the pale blue beam seeming frightfully small against the huge black imposingness of their opponent. The man's sneer seemed to metamorph into a grin, the black markings over his upper lip rising just a touch more. With a guesture that was nearly invisible against all that back, the man pulled his own saber from his belt. The opposing red beam buzzed angrily.
Drianna turned and came to stand beside Derrin. They had never fought together before--they had never really come up against any dark jedi, either, but that mattered little now. It seemed perfectly natural for them to be there together, shoulder to shoulder, against this new foe.
"Very well," the man said, his voice a deep, rich, breathy growl. "A noble death it shall be."
Larin lunged at Vaiya, catching her by the collar of her shirt with his fingers. They dug into her like talons as he pulled her up, his mouth inches away from hers. The fierceness of the movement, as well as the surprise it caused in her, made her drop her saber.
"What have they done to you?" she gasped as he pinned her against the wall.
"More importantly," he mocked, "what aren't you doing to me? Aren't you a Jedi or something? Shouldn't you be fighting me with your saber?" He lifted his red blade and brought it between them, the heat causing perspiration to rise immediately from both their cheeks. "Or maybe you just want a quick death. I'm sorry, I can't do that. It would take all the fun out of it." Then, in comtempt, he pulled her away from the wall and tossed her aside, letting her tumble into some nearby furniture and land in an undignified heap. He regarded her carefully for a few moments, giving Vaiya a moment to recollect herself.
He had something on his arm, she immediately noticed. A huge metal band locked around his upper biscep--some kind of tagging device? Or---
A quick probe told her everything. Cal had done this to him. He had put him on some kind of mind-altering drugs, using Larin's mild mental instability against him and turning him into this rabid lapdog. Rage flickered in Vaiya, and Larin seemed to pull back, mildly surprised.
"So the puppy does have teeth," he said, and laughed. "Then show them, why don't you? Or do we have to play some more?" He reached forward and siezed her hair, and she scrambled quickly to her get knees under her before he ripped a hunk of it out. She felt herself slam into him, her head and chest making hard contact with his torso, causing his knees to buckle a bit, but he kept his balance. Then he turned to the side and his hand went to some controls. Within a few seconds a hologram appeared on a nearby console---a frightfully familiar hologram.
"Valery," she whispered.
Larin sighed. "Yes, and such a sad thing, too. You see, this little cult has been rather incomplete for quite some time. When big bad Darth Seth took over, he left a nice little gap. They were thinking of using this kid as his replacement."
"No," Vaiya rasped.
Larin shrugged. "Makes no difference to me," he said casually. "Shouldn't matter much to you, either. You've got bigger problems than him."
Vaiya looked up at him, her mind pushing at his hard, hoping to spark some recognition. Whatever this drug was, it was messing with his memory big time. Larin had had enough trouble recovering the first time--this next affliction might have no return. "He's your brother!" she cried, still on her knees before him. Her mind shoved harder against his, trying to drive the fact home. "Your brother, Valery!"
Larin stared down at her, and for a brief second, she saw a flash of recognition in his face. It was almost a smile, the expression that appeared, almost tender in nature.
Then she heard a low beep come from that band on his arm, and instantly his face darkened into a drug induced maddess. "Save your fear for yourself, Vaiya," he growled. "This has only begun."
She shut her eyes as she felt him pick her up and toss her again. This time she landed hard against the console, not to far away from the controls for the door. She played dead for a moment, going deep within herself.
She had to get out of here. She couldn't fight Larin. She would be afraid of hurting him. She would hold back and probably get herself killed. She had told Derrin and Drianna to do it, knowing that they would not hesitate to do what needed to be done. But first, she had to do something.
She stretched out with the Force, finding her path smooth and clear, free from emotion, even if only for a few minutes. Blocking out Larin's face, she reached for her lightsaber and it came to her. With a quick, brief motion, she swung it past Larin's arm, grazing the metal band.
Larin shrieked with pain as the band exploded on his arm with the heat, and Vaiya felt her focus slip. She had to get out of here. She stood up and reached for the controls, unlocking the door. It came open abruptly, and she found that she had been leaning against it too hard, because she tripped and landed on her back, on the catwalks.
For a second, she saw figures moving--three of them, locked in a dance. One black, the other two in light brown robes. They paused when she appeared, and instantly Vaiya knew.
So Seth had found them.
She lifted her head up and caught a brief look at Larin clutching his arm in pain, pulling away the bits of metal, making short, high-pitched shrieks of agony. Tears streaked down his face, and as he looked at her again, Vaiya saw the rage.
It terrified her.
She pulled herself up to her feet and turned enough to see that the dance had paused. Seth had stepped back, the two Jedi opposing him were looking to her in confusion, unable to understand why everything had stopped. She pointed at Larin.
"Trade me!" she cried.
"Are you nuts?" Derrin cried back.
Vaiya was on her feet now, and her eyes landed on Seth. They did not move from there, even when she called to herself the double-ended lightsaber that she had made, which was hanging from his belt. She pulled it upright and ignited one end.
"No. Now do as I say," she ordered calmly. Taking one last look at Seth, the two Jedi obeyed, and Vaiya shut the door to the throneroom behind them.
"You don't want to do this, Vaiya," Seth warned her, his face looking more human every second in spite of his attempts to keep the flesh mask in place. "Don't make me destroy you."
"You won't," Vaiya said, her calm returning to her like a cloak. Now this was a battle she could fight. Her emotions fled her, leaving only a spiritual calm. As she gazed at Seth, readying herself, she realized she did feel something. Compassion. Not like she felt for Larin, who still had posession of her heart after all the time they had spent apart, but a spiritual compassion, one that came from her soul. All the tainted lust that had plagued her before vanished. All that was left was a desperate desire to save him. Save him from himself before it was too late.
"Don't mock me, Vaiya!" he raged. "I am capable of that and much more!"
"I know," she replied, still calm. "But you don't want to. And therefore, you won't."
Almost in defiance, he lunged at her, but she countered it calmly with her violet blade, which slid into existence mere seconds before the two sabers made contact.
She was very good, he would give her that.
He pulled back a bit, and then struck again. She countered, and so it went. He struggled to find her weak spot, but found that he could not give his blade enough force to crack her defense. So they danced across the catwalk, slashing back and forth, her eyes never leaving his, her face set in that stone mask that was beautiful even in its dispassion.
They spun and whirled, red and violet clashing and locking and then parting again, like fighting insects. She came close to him several times, her thick mane of hair touching his cheek, the smell of her sweat filling his nostrils, and he felt his passion for her rise. Much to his internal dismay, it only made him attack her the harder, and soon she was falling back, her mask starting to slip. A line appeared between her eyebrows, but her muscles remained tightly coiled, striking and drawing and spinning when called upon, even leaping upwards, propelling her a good twenty feet away away from him as he attempted to knock her feet out from under her.
They paused after that, breathing heavily, neither one really desiring the advantage but neither one desiring to surrender, either. They stared at each other, and he paced the short width of the catwalk, trying to understand what was wrong.
"Why are you doing this, Seth?" she asked, her voice a lull against the low winds of the ventilation system. "What good will it do you? What purpose does it serve?"
"It serves my purpose," he replied, his voice equally calm.
"And what is that?" she asked.
"The purpose the cult." He was a little surprised by his own unconvincing tone.
She almost laughed, but stopped herself. "Do you even know what it is?" she asked, stepping closer, her blade lowered.
"To give birth to the destroyer," he replied, as if rehearsed.
"And what will that accomplish?" It was almost as if she were trying to teach him something, and it irritated him to no end.
"The destruction of all things. The end of the Jedi, the end of the Order of Yejion...the end of all our enemies."
"And eventually," she added for him, "the end of you."
Seth shook his head. "We will be given dominion over all---"
"You practice the sith arts," she said as if she hadn't heard him.
He just scowled at her.
"The sith wiped themselves out over a thousand years ago, Seth," she said, her voice rising a bit. "They wiped themselves out because evil will always beget evil, and will always desire its own end. Therefore, two men of evil purpose can never trust each other,
because they are only looking out for themselves. They will destroy each other to get what they want, and so therefore evil cannot stand. It has no ally, no one to trust. And nothing can stand alone."
"Your Yejion stands alone," Seth challenged. "He serves only his own purpose. He uses you...does he care that you love that man that you just had to fight? No, he chastizes you for being in love, and lets it make you weak. He deserts you because if you are not entire focused on him, you are not worthy of him. That is the surpreme selfishness, Vaiya. When you see that, you will realize what a prize I have offered you as my bride. I am not jealous of your other desires--"
"Aren't you?" she countered, her face twisting a bit in anger. Then she banished it. "You think the fact that I am in love with Larin makes me weak? Perhaps you're right, maybe it does. But I am weak even without that. It is only in Yejion that I am strong. He gives me His power, gives me grace and strength to fight, even when my heart it torn. He has chosen me, and it would be sheer foolishness to choose any but Him in return." She paused, stepping even closer. Her bright eyes bore into his. "And you, Seth. If Yejion is as selfish as you believe, why hasn't He destroyed you? You seek to bring His enemy into the world--if He were what you claim, with His power He could have wiped you out with a mere thought. But He has not. He wishes not for the wicked man to be destroyed, but to repent and live. You know that you doubt your purpose, that you do not desire the coming of the Destroyer--I can see into your heart, Seth, as you can see into mine. What you see in me is blinded by your lusts, but what truly keeps you from destroying me is that I am your last hope. You can't bring yourself to destroy me. The only thing keeping you back from truly hearing me is your fear!"
"I FEAR NOTHING!" Seth screamed, and charged her. She was ready for him, her blade fast against his. He beat her back, nearly pinning her against the door, but she managed to get her blade firmly under his, and even as he pushed her down, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with light.
"There is nothing to be afraid of," she told him as he glared down at her, using every trick he had ever been taught to make the bright marks of his face intimidate her. She just calmly looked back, a strange, alien love, making her more beautiful than before. Then, she pulled herself upright, their blades clashing for a second and then sliding, his veering off to the side against hers, their hilts touching as her face came very close to his. "Seth," she whispered, her breath against his mouth. Her mind reached for his. "Trust me."
He shoved her away, and she was caught off guard, her back slamming against the door to the throneroom.
"You are a fool, Vaiya," he said, almost sadly.
She nodded up at him. "I am a fool," she replied. "But there is more wisdom in this folly than in all of your prophesies of destruction." She paused. "But you already know that."
He stayed back for several moments, contemplating her. He had to hit her where she lived...or rather, loved. "And what about Larin?" he said, his voice returning to the deep, slightly raspy hum. "All of this faith you've been granted, but you cannot face Larin? He makes you stumble and fall, I've seen it. Do you think it's because you're afraid of hurting him? No, Vaiya, I tell you what really scares you...that in his current state, you find him even more appealing than before."
Vaiya cocked an eyebrow. "I don't know where you got that from."
"Your own thoughts, Vaiya." He grinned, the tattoo rippling as he tossed her words back at her. "As you see mine, I see yours."
She started, caught off guard by realization that he could see much deeper into her than she had expected. Then she blushed, as if she had been caught undressing. Hastily, she threw up a barrier, but Seth pushed harder, knocking down. How was that possible? she thought. And then shot at him, And you said you weren't jealous.
Then her eyes bore into his, realizing that there was no way else to fight him. She tried hard to see him as a man, but the longer she looked, the more she saw the red, the black, the horns, the bright, unnatural eyes. She blinked several times, and suddenly her expression turned very sad.
"Larin is my weakness, that much I will give you. I cannot fight him, because I am afraid of him as he is. I love him with all my heart, and seeing him like this is tearing me up. So I was brave enough to trust Derrin and Drianna to take care of him. I did not run. I chose humility."
"Yet you presume to best me," he said, pointing his blade at her. "I, who am by far his superior. That is not pride?"
"No, truth. I am not afraid of you, Seth," she said, her voice even. "I am afraid only of losing you."
He snorted. "Losing me...you stand here and profess love for another man, and yet you fear losing me! What are you hoping for? Oh, do not even say it!" Now he was anguished, his jealousy suddenly roused, and he stepped closer to her, brandishing his blade. "I have half a mind to run in there and kill him myself!"
She struck that time, hard. He almost stumbled back, but he had experience and weight in his favor. He managed to toss her off, but she got too close to the edge and had to do a quick backflip to land safely on the next catwalk below. He glared down at her as she looked up at him, her serenity back in place. He jumped down to her, and she barely stepped aside in time. He landed inches from her, and her blade caught against his. She was pushing him now, backing him out over the chasm, the catwalk thinning over the large and deadly drop into space. She was his match in every stroke, her eyes locked onto his again.
He struck back, pouring his rage into his movements, his concentration so intense he was gritting his teeth. He could see a flicker of fear cross her face at his ferocity, but she did not back away, even as his strikes became harder, as he felt her muscles begin to tire, even when it became clear that his anger was stronger than her faith.
She would either yield or die. There was no other choice.
This was impossible.
After Larin had managed to stumble upright, his eyes went to his shattered bracelet, looking more upset about the hunks of metal that were falling away than his burned flesh. "No!" he cried, and then looked at Drianna and Derrin, as if they could do something to help him.
"Larin," Drianna said, her voice loud enough to be heard over Larin's high-pitched moans of pain. He threw himself forward and began to convulse. It looked like he had suddenly become a three-year-old, he seemed so helpless. Drianna approached him, grasping him by his shirt, trying to pull him upright and assess the wound. Derrin jumped as she did so, waiting for Larin to strike out at Drianna.
She had him around the neck and managed to stop his crying with a sleeper hold on his shoulder. He suddenly went limp, his head lolling around his neck like a ragdoll. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and Drianna quickly tore a piece of her cloak off to wrap it around the burned flesh.
Derrin dropped himself beside her, holding onto Larin's rather heavy frame. The sleeper hold was something she'd just learned, and she was pretty sure she hadn't done it right. Any second now, Larin was going to-------
"Get away from me!" he suddenly screamed, shoving them both back. He picked up his dropped lightsaber, and then called the other one to him, the one Vaiya had dropped. He ignited them both and once, brandishing them at the two Jedi, his eyes still gleaming with the maddess of what was left of the drug in his system.
Without a thought, Derrin and Drianna ignited their blades. Vaiya had said adreneline would pump the drug out. Well, he was really going to get it now.
"Fine," Derrin said tightly. "If that's the way you want it."
"Larin," Drianna said, attempting to control the situation, "you can't fight us with those two blades."
"Can't I?" But she was right. He was unsteady, his strength diminished by sudden withdrawl. He swung them around, the first coming into place quite nicely, but the second flopping like a wooden stick. "Two blades for me, two blades for you. Sounds like a nice match."
Derrin considered how hard he would have to strike to knock one of the blades out of Larin's hand. Lightsabers always needed a two handled grip. Anything else was pure folly. So with a quick stroke, he slammed the tip of his saber against the hilt of the red blade, and Larin dropped it with a painful yelp. His hand when to the white bladed saber, his grip much steadier than before.
"I see your point," he said, cocking an eyebrow in what almost seemed like calm. "Very well then. We'll do it your way. But I still get to win." And he struck at Derrin with a powerful blow.
Drianna tried to take some of the blow, but Larin's foot caught against her leg and he shoved her back, tearing into Derrin eagerly, his desire to kill him almost tangible in the dark room. They clashed and tangled and jumped away, leaping over furniture, dancing their battledance on top of the wider consoles.
All she could do was watch. Something told her that this was not her fight. Maybe Derrin had to fight it alone. This was his test as a Jedi.
Larin was rather skilled with his sword, but he did not have much experience. Neither did Derrin, really, but he had had more practice with his skills. For a short time, Larin had the upper hand, backing Derrin into a corner, his anger rising in his chest and coming off his face in thick sweat. Drianna nearly gasped at the amount of dark side energy Larin was using--she would never have thought him strong in it, not as strong as he was showing himself to be. Derrin was a little quicker, as he was a more lanky-built man, and managed to push Larin back again, until it was finally he who had the upper hand.
White and blue sizzled like warring starlines in the low light of the chamber, and finally Derrin pinned Larin against a large, throne-like chair. He struck hard, his blade sideswiping the heavy burn and shaving off the rest of the metal bar around Larin's forearm. Larin shrieked again, but this time it was a deeper shriek, one of unholy rage. The moment of sudden, angry pain gave Derrin the second he needed. In two heavy strikes, the white saber was out of Larin's hand.
Derrin raised his saber over his head. This one was pathetic...Vaiya had preferred him over himself? How could she have lost her taste so quickly! And then, as he gazed down at Larin, who was clutching his arm, his eyes moving away from Derrin and the deathstrike that hovered above him, Derrin noticed that Larin was changing.
The muscles in his face relaxed. They turned and cleared, and he frowned. "Der..... Derrin?" he said, as if he'd just woken from a deep sleep. "Where....." His head slumped forward, a wave of pain washing over him.
Drianna said, "The adreneline," and Derrin nodded, his eyes locked on Larin.
"I guess that means we can go."
"We have to get Vaiya." She glanced at Derrin. "I guess it's my turn."
Derrin looked at her, and smiled, his gaze full of love. "And what, leave me to play nursemaid?" he said, his tone almost playful.
"Maybe that's your Jedi trial," Drianna offered, going to the door. "Taking care of someone you hate."
"I don't hate him," Derrin whispered, and found that he truly meant it. "I just don't... understand him."
The door slid open, and Drianna looked around, hearing the distance clashing of lightsabers but not seeing the fight. She stepped out farther on the catwalk, and saw them a level below her, red and purple blades whirling.
"I think I know what you mean," Drianna said, frowning. "Should I go help her?"
"Do you feel you must help her?" Derrin replied.
Drianna looked over her shoulder at him. "A Jedi for two minutes and already you sound like Master Skywalker." She ignited her blade, flashed him a smile, and jumped to the nearby catwalk.