Dark Disciple

by Christie Golden

  Their blades clashed and sizzled, and she moved forward, her face mere centimeters from his. A cruel smile curved her full lips. “Very good, Vos,” she said, almost mockingly. “At least you know how to fight back.”

  She executed a backward flip, landing in a crouch atop a large boulder.

  “But can you finish the job?” And with a quick leap, Ventress vanished into the fog.

  What was she talking about? They were partners—more than partners. Vos knew Ventress cared for him. He could feel it in her touch, sense it in the Force. As for what he felt, he—

  Her laughter, cold and cruel, chilled Vos more than the increasingly thick mist. He stepped forward, moving toward where he had last seen her, reaching out in the Force to try to locate her. His head was starting to clear, and irritation replaced confusion. Whatever she was doing, it wasn’t necessary, and it was starting to make him angry. They were wasting time in a foolish—

  A second time, the hum of her lightsaber alerted Vos to Ventress’s presence, and he again whirled to parry her attack from behind. Her beautiful face was contorted in a snarl, and she came at him full force. Ventress rained blows upon him, not holding back, pushing in for the kill. Unwilling to harm her, Vos took one step back, then another, concentrating on blocking her attack. The damp air muffled the sizzle of lightsabers clashing in deadly earnest.

  Still Ventress pressed the attack. Something inside Vos snapped. A furious cry escaped his lips and he moved onto the offensive. This time, it was she who was forced to give ground as he advanced on her, swinging his lightsaber so swiftly it was little more than a green blur. As she drew back to strike again, his hand shot forward and closed on her throat, his fingers digging into warm flesh, lifting her easily into the air and hurling her to the ground.

  Ventress hit hard, sprawling with an utter lack of her usual controlled grace. She coughed, one hand massaging her throat. Vos found himself standing over her, lightsaber raised for the next blow, but instead a smile touched her lips.

  “You see?” she said, her voice rough, the faint shadows of a bruise already starting to form on her pale throat. “Your anger has made you powerful!”

  He lowered the lightsaber and switched it off. The red rage that had colored his thoughts was fading. So it really had been a test, and nothing more. Vos frowned. He did not like being toyed with.

  But before he could say anything, Ventress had leapt to her feet and was again racing into the mist. What now? His lips pressed together in a tight line and he pursued. This game had gone far enough.

  And a game it was. Over and over again, Ventress allowed him to glimpse her just long enough to keep her in sight. They leapt over fallen tree trunks, ducked beneath chunks of stone. Vos realized that Ventress’s path was taking them to the mountain fortress. He recalled what she had said to him the first time they had beheld it together: You are not ready to go inside. But when you do…you had better make sure you come out.

  He was ready. He knew it. He could take anything Ventress could throw at him.

  Ventress raced into the open now, her slender, long legs bearing her easily across the stone to the gaping mouth of the cavern. She vanished into darkness. Vos ran behind her, slowing as he felt the cool fingers of a shadow caress him. He held his lightsaber before him and moved cautiously, reaching out into the Force to try to sense her.

  Vos walked between the statuary pillars and emerged into an interior space of both darkness and beauty. When Ventress had said “village,” Vos had expected something small and primitive. But this cavern was gargantuan, and what it housed was vast and compelling in its scope and strange loveliness.

  Most of the illumination came from pools of water that glowed a soft, mesmeric shade of blue. Here and there, thin streams of water poured from above, their source so high as to be shrouded in darkness. The dim lighting revealed that, as with the exterior, those who had constructed this place had worked in tandem with nature. Here, in the village of Ventress’s sisters, was no forced architecture; nothing, at least at this first glance, that looked like it had ever been created in a factory. Towering stalagmites jutted from the cerulean pools, their peaks so high that they vanished into the darkness above. Into these natural formations had been carved doors, windows, stairways, and overlooks at several levels. Specks of what looked to be phosphorescent stone augmented the azure light. No doubt, once, there had been torches, as well.

  Vos stepped forward into a wide-open area of flat stone. Here and there he saw remnants of ordinary life: overturned pitchers and vases, braziers, bowls.

  It would have been one of the most beautiful places Vos had ever beheld, if it had not been so steeped in the dark side. It was strong here; controlled, directed. At the far side of the open area, he saw an altar, and wondered what sorts of horrors it had borne witness to. Perhaps once, this had been no more than a cavern, a neutral place, eventually permeated by the energy left over from centuries of dark work. Or perhaps it had always dwelled on the edge of darkness.

  It didn’t matter. All Vos understood was that Ventress knew the twists and turns of her village intimately, he was a stranger, and she was hunting him.

  He sensed her presence, but the location was muddied, difficult to pinpoint. Moving silently, Vos made his way to a smaller stalagmite and sprang out from behind it with a grunt, his lightsaber swinging.

  But Ventress wasn’t there. She was behind him, screaming as she swung her glowing yellow blade. Vos was forced to dodge. Swift as a thought, Ventress raced past and whirled to face him.

  “You are strong,” she said, and to his surprise she stepped back and extinguished her lightsaber. Uncertain as to her intent, Vos hesitated. “Don’t worry, Quinlan. This part of the test is over.”

  He nodded and switched off his own lightsaber. “I can’t say I’m sorry. What now?”

  Ventress turned and looked out over the blue pools. “A major component of Nightsister magicks is a fluid that we call the Water of Life,” she said.

  “From these lakes?” Vos guessed.

  “Not exactly. The Water of Life is…harvested.”

  Vos’s dark brows knit. “I’m not following you.”

  “The depths of these pools have never been plumbed. All we know is that they are very deep indeed, and they are home to many creatures. There is one that the Nightsisters called the Sleeper. To fully be accepted as an adult, a young woman of my clan underwent a rite of passage. Using her Force abilities, she would awaken the Sleeper, dominate it, and force it to remove a piece of its body.”

  “A trophy?” Vos was repelled.

  “No. An ingredient. That piece of the Sleeper is boiled with water from the pool and other items to create the Water of Life. I was told the Sleeper was very strong-willed. To lose control over it, even for a moment, would mean the initiate’s death.”

  Vos gazed out on the luminous water. “How often was the rite successful?”

  “I never asked.”

  “What’s the catch? Simply controlling an animal, even a strong-willed one, is fairly easy for a Jedi.”

  “It would be—if this creature were just an animal, and if you only needed to use the light side of the Force,” Ventress said. “Quinlan—it’s the Sleeper, not a Sleeper. It’s ancient. The stories about it go back to the earliest days of my clan. You can sense how strong the dark side is here. Everything, even the wildlife, has been touched by it in some way. The Sleeper can only be awakened and controlled if someone thoroughly subjugates it with dark side power.”

  “I see,” Vos said. He looked back over the water. “Well, let’s get on with it.”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “Not yet. I know little enough about the Sleeper, but I will share with you what I do know.” Ventress smiled a little. “Now you know why I wanted you to build up your endurance. Your next exercise will require swimming—and holding your breath.”

  “I do have an aquata breather, but I’d recommend training both with and without it,” she told him as they ate that
night. “The pools in the cavern are opaque, so your vision will be limited. You might also want a pair of goggles that will let you see beyond the visible spectrum.”

  Vos thought about it as he carved off a chunk of a small lizard turning on the spit, then shook his head. “No. That doesn’t feel right. The whole point of this test, as I understand it, is for me to dominate it with my ability in the Force, not with technology.”

  “Your ability wielding the dark side of the Force,” Ventress reminded him.

  He nodded and bit into the chunk of mild-tasting flesh. “So, what else can you tell me?”

  Ventress looked frustrated. “Less than I’d like. I know it’s large, terrifying to look at, and physically powerful. And as I’ve said, its will is impressive.”

  “You mentioned swimming and holding my breath,” Vos said. “I take it I’ll be fighting it underwater?”

  “Ideally, no,” Ventress replied. “The Sleeper can be lured onto land, and of course you’d have the advantage there. But you need to be prepared for anything.”

  “So…what does this thing look like?” Vos asked. He forced himself to eat more than usual. He would shortly be burning thousands of calories a day in training.

  “It varies from person to person,” she said. “Karis claimed it was the same hue as the water. Luce said it was pure white. Talia told me the Sleeper had enormous eyes and pincers. Naa’leth said no, it had tentacles. The one thing everyone agrees on is that they were terrified. It seems if you don’t control it quickly and get dragged into the water—presumably by pincers or tentacles—you risk coming into contact with the substance you’re trying to harvest. That can cause hallucinations.” She looked down. “Talia watched her twin simply freeze. She was paralyzed with fear. The Sleeper dragged her down with it.”

  “Hey,” Vos said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “I have a lot of respect for the Nightsisters and their Force abilities. But I’m not a youngling, I’m an adult with the skills and training of a Jedi Master. And,” he added, hoping to lighten her mood, “I’ve got the best coach in the universe who has a vested interest in seeing I survive.”

  Ventress looked at him, her eyes searching his. She reached to touch his face, her fingers stroking his lips. He shivered and bit down, gently.

  Chuckling softly, she pulled her hand away and tapped him on the nose. “Don’t forget that, Idiot.”

  “Never,” he said, and kissed her.

  —

  Dathomir was not without its oceans, and Vos soon grew intimately familiar with them. They began with simple submersion. Vos’s Jedi training gave him excellent control over both his mind and his body, which would be the key to his success. If he stayed calm throughout, his heart rate would remain slow and his body would not burn more oxygen than was absolutely necessary. Well aware that if he didn’t establish and keep control over the Sleeper at the outset he would certainly be involved in combat, he practiced fighting creatures underwater as well.

  “Your training is coming along well,” Ventress said one evening as they ate stew prepared with a burra fish Vos had killed that day.

  “I am glad you think so,” he said. He hesitated, then asked, “What about…after?”

  She eyed him as she helped herself to more stew. “What about after?”

  “When we’ve killed Dooku.”

  Ventress looked back to the pot of stew bubbling cheerfully on the fire. She lowered her head so he couldn’t see her face in the flickering light. She had no desire to think about what would happen afterward. This time together was precious—and forbidden. The Jedi would never accept one of their own with a…companion, let alone one who was a former Sith. When Dooku died, so would their connection. Vos would leave her, and she would be alone. Again.

  But she understood that. Ventress knew how to be alone, and she had always known that even this brief time with Vos was a gift.

  She kept her tone conversational. “It will be hard for you to go back to the Jedi, but it’s possible.”

  “Asajj.”

  She stilled. Vos took her bowl, set it aside, and gathered her hands in his. He looked at her strong fingers, her callused, scarred palms, then pressed his lips to each one in turn.

  “I don’t want to go back,” he stated. Ventress closed her eyes, scarcely daring to believe the words. “I want to be with you.”

  Now she did risk a look at him. His face shone with intensity, his warm eyes catching the firelight above the yellow stripe that adorned his features. “I can’t walk away from this, and I don’t want to. Do you?”

  For a moment Ventress couldn’t speak.

  “No,” she managed. “I don’t want to, either. But Quinlan…be sure. It’s all you’ve ever known.”

  “I know you now,” Vos replied, squeezing her hands for emphasis. “And if being Jedi means I can’t be with you…I also know what I choose.”

  He released her hands and unbuckled his bracer, placing it on the ground. She watched, a brow arched in confusion. He found a rock, tossed it in the air, and caught it.

  Vos looked at her solemnly. “It starts now.” And he brought the stone smashing down on the holocomm button, severing contact with the Jedi for now, and—forever? Could he really do so? Ventress stared at the broken piece of equipment, then lifted her gaze to his.

  Vos smiled at her, fully, freely. No shadow of regret lay upon him, only a calm certainty. An emotion surged through Ventress that was so alien she almost didn’t recognize it as joy. The name of another feeling, richer and deeper, hovered unspoken between them, danced on her lips—perhaps on his, as well. They had a bond, real and vibrant and strong, that seemed to her to be unbreakable.

  “Together,” he said, emotion making his voice husky.

  Ventress didn’t trust herself to speak. She showed him instead, pulling him toward her and kissing him passionately. Vos responded at once, returning the kiss with a fierceness that heightened her desire. Every sense was alert, expectant, and every touch had the intensity of something more than physical. He got to his feet, taking her with him, kissed her hard, and then swung her up in his arms and strode toward the ship.

  A small, blinking red light appeared in the darkness. Ventress closed her eyes and growled. Vos laughed ruefully, his warm breath stirring her hair as he kissed the top of her head and set her down.

  “You should get that.”

  “The timing could have been better,” Ventress said, and pulled out her holocomm. A small figure appeared, squat and wrinkled. It jabbered excitedly. “Kuck chi sol ildi.”

  Ventress felt a lurch in her gut. So soon? Her gaze flickered to Vos, who raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Apparently, Gossam was not a language he understood.

  “I see,” Ventress said to the holographic image. “You have done well, Sumdin. And the location of this gathering?”

  Sumdin lifted a graceless, three-fingered hand and operated something Ventress couldn’t see. In the Gossam’s place now swirled the hologram of a pleasant-looking green-and-blue planet.

  And then Vos understood. “You found Dooku!”

  Ventress gazed at the tiny world for a moment longer, than deactivated the holocomm. “He’ll be on Raxus. I know the day and time.”

  Vos grimaced slightly. “His home turf.” Raxus was the capital of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Security was bound to be excessive. “But if you’ve found him—we’ve got to go.”

  Ventress didn’t reply. His brow knit in confusion. “Well?”

  “Quinlan…I’m concerned that you’re not ready. You’ve barely begun to explore the dark side, let alone master the ability to walk the knife’s edge. You’ve not called the Sleeper, and if you can’t do that—if we leave now, you could be in jeopardy.”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “More than I am already?”

  “More than you can possibly realize.”

  “I understand your concern. But we can’t afford to miss this opportunity.”

  Ventress didn’t reply at once. She ha
d expected to have more time. More time for Vos to train, to master the mercurial and untrustworthy nature of the dark side; more time for them to be together before they faced an unspeakably dangerous foe…and more time for her to gather her courage and tell him the truth about his Master. But she couldn’t, not at this juncture. She would tell him afterward, when they had slain Dooku and truly left their pasts behind. When they were together, and things were calmer.

  Even if he did understand and forgive her, it would be a shock to him, at least at first. To succeed in their mission, she needed Quinlan Vos at his best and most focused…and the personalized hatred she had falsely instilled in him toward the count could only help.

  Also—he was right. There was no telling when they would get a second chance. The count was slippery as a Mon Calamari eel.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed down at her. “Asajj—I admit it. The dark side has made me powerful. You’ve opened my eyes to so many things. But it hasn’t hurt me. All it’s done is make me believe we can succeed.”

  Ventress smiled sadly. “That’s the danger.”

  He sighed. “Let me prove it to you. I know I’m ready to call the Sleeper—and defeat it.”

  Ventress did not share his confidence. It wasn’t his ability to use the Force that was in question. It was his ability to use only the dark side of it. Vos was a good man. She was worried that even now, he might still be too good.

  She closed her eyes and took a breath. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  The two were silent as they made their way to the caverns. Vos felt the caress of the dark side as they entered the open area, and his thoughts were myriad and chaotic.

  Ventress paused as they approached the blue water of one of the cavern lakes. “What is it?” Vos asked.

  They stood near an artificial pool that had been created on the open, flat-stoned area near the altar. Its water was neither clear nor blue, but a rich inky black. Ventress pressed her lips together. “This was where I truly left being a Sith behind. Where I became a Nightsister. I was too old and experienced to call the Sleeper, so my initiation was somewhat…different.”