“Think about what we saw on Korriban,” Jaina continued. “The Sith are notorious for leaving guardians or traps behind. To chain a whole bunch of dark-side entities and essentially only give them orders to ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ is … well, it’s a stupid use of resources, and one thing the Sith aren’t is stupid.”
“This one agrees,” said Saba. “Though it would make our roles as Jedi easier if the Sith were stupid.”
Yaqeel snorted, then quickly looked away.
Good, thought Luke. He had never been prouder of his Jedi than now, with Jaina’s smart-mouthed but logical comment, and Yaqeel’s smothered laughter. They were walking, together, into darkness, and able to think and laugh. In a way, whatever happened next, they had already won.
They paused as they approached a wall that enclosed the city. This place did not have the imposing architecture of a fortress. It was both functional and decorative, but did not seem designed to impose fear and awe on the beholder. The wall was covered in faded designs of hideous, red-eyed, multilegged monsters, images of Sith meditating and sparring, and other designs that Luke didn’t recognize. He wished for a moment he had dared bring Vestara, but that would have been far too risky. Natua was a second-best choice, with her newly acquired knowledge, but she was needed where she was. The gateway was a simple metal portcullis. Luke wondered at that, and spoke into his comlink to the other Jedi.
“Stop at the entrance,” he said. Gateways, entrances, anything that denoted a crossing from one space to another—these were places of power. Innocent looking—well, innocent looking for a Sith construction anyway—though it might be, he needed to proceed with utmost care.
He reached out in the Force, probing for an increase in the power of the dark side here, or even a change or shift in the nature of the energy. There seemed to be nothing unusual. Now more curious than wary, Luke lifted a hand.
The portcullis rose easily, grinding slightly with eons of disuse.
“Oh, I really don’t like this,” Jaina said.
“Neither does this one,” murmured Saba, her eyes narrowing. The Barabel’s tail lashed.
“Come on,” Luke said into the comlink, and the Jedi obeyed. Cautiously they moved into the city proper, all of them looking around, their senses alert to any shift, any change, any danger more immediate than the constant, oppressive hatred that poured from the dark side.
Once the last of them had entered, the portcullis dropped with a loud clang. The sky suddenly darkened, and thunder rumbled. The temperature dropped and the wind picked up. Luke glanced upward at the unnatural cloud that squatted angrily over the city, and saw quick flashes of Force lightning in its depths.
“I’m waiting for the welcoming committee,” said Jaina, her voice soft but her body tense and ready to spring into action.
“Yeah,” said Seha Dorvald, standing beside Octa. “I’d like for something to happen already.”
“Keep your focus, Jedi,” Luke said, projecting calmness. “I’m sure it will come, but you must be prepared to meet it. If you are spoiling for a fight, you give it the advantage.”
“I am sorry, Master Skywalker,” Seha said.
“No need to apologize. Just do it,” Luke replied mildly.
The buildings, like the wall, seemed designed more to protect and shelter the inhabitants than to make a show of fearsome power, although they showed the wear of time in the lack of roofs and other disrepair. Other than the increased hostility of the dark-side energies, which seemed curiously still but, like hunting nexu, straining at the leash, there was nothing obvious to denote that Sith had been the former inhabitants.
“This was not a martial world,” Saba said. “Their focus was different.”
“The tunnels,” Jaina said, and Luke felt a flicker of unease from her. “Their whole culture was centered on those rites conducted in the lava caves.”
“They focused on the metaphysical, not the material,” Luke said, and something settled into place. He was on the right track. “They were not warriors focused on conquering and weaponry, Saba, because they didn’t have to be.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Kyp drawled.
Luke paused for a moment, closing his eyes and dropping deeply into himself. He extended his perception. They were close to the center of the darkness; close to what this place and these enslaved energies were hiding. A place deep in the planet, close to the mysteries these Sith found so compelling.
What they sought was there. And it knew they were coming.
He opened his eyes. “It’s in the center of the city,” he said. “The underground hangar. And something is definitely there. Activate lightsabers, and prepare for battle.”
As he spoke those words into the comlink, the ground trembled again, more violently this time. Several of the buildings crumbled.
“And whatever it is, it really doesn’t want us to find it,” said Jaina.
Luke gave her a serene smile. “We’re more than a hundred Jedi. Would you?”
She gave him an uncertain grin in return and, igniting her own lightsaber, moved forward. With each step, Luke felt, and knew the others felt as well, the dark side pressing in on them, trying to push them back. He steeled himself and kept moving forward, sending waves of reassurance to those Jedi less certain than himself. There was no censure in it. None of them had been trained to stand against something like this. He was extremely proud of them, and felt them rally at his touch in the Force.
Their path led them to a large open area. Luke recalled what Ben had told him about discovering Ship. Ben had commanded Ship to appear, and it had done so, forming a crack in the surface of the planet and climbing out.
Luke wasn’t sure it was Ship in there. But there was definitely a presence. This was where the energies were concentrated. They had cornered their foe in its lair. Dark-side energy, focused and contained, pulsed hatred at him so intently he could almost feel his flesh burn with it.
Luke, like his son, would order whatever was in there to appear. But unlike Ben, he did not need to speak to it in a language it understood in order to be obeyed.
“Everyone, get ready,” he said. “I’m bringing it out.”
They all dropped into combat poses, each according to his or her individual strengths. The Jedi ships now flew into formation above them, awaiting orders to attack, defend, or retreat.
Luke extended a hand.
Come forth.
No. If coldness, and terror, and pure malice had a voice, it would speak like this.
You will.
I will not.
Luke frowned and put more persuasion into his words.
Come. Forth!
The ground bucked. A crack appeared in front of them, angry and zigzagging and bespeaking nothing of order, only wildness and chaos. The gap widened, huge chunks of stone falling down into the chamber below or else hurling themselves at the Jedi, who easily turned the objects away. Luke gripped his lightsaber in one hand, the other extended, staring down at the darkness and bracing himself for the sight of the hideous form this dark-side entity—entities, he amended—would assume.
A pale lavender face peered up at them. It would have been attractive, had it not been swollen with bruises and sliced with cuts. The figure, female, was bound hand and foot. A cord arched her body painfully, so that if she struggled, she would choke herself.
“Help me!” she cried. “Please!”
For a precious second, Luke was taken completely off-guard. A Keshiri Sith? Imprisoned and clearly tortured? Yet it was plain that she was the source of all this dark-side energy. What was going on? He felt almost battered by the confusion of his fellow Jedi.
“It’s got to be a trick, Uncle Luke!” Jaina cried.
“A trick,” said Luke, “or a test?” His mind was racing. If they killed this Sith without ascertaining she was their enemy, all of them—the entire Jedi Order—would have taken a huge step toward the dark side. And nothing would please Ship or Abeloth, or indeed the Lost Tribe, more.
“Who are you?” Luke demanded.
“T-tola Annax,” the Keshiri woman said. “I served under Gavar Khai. I got his command when he died, but Abeloth decided she didn’t need me anymore.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” the woman cried. “Please …”
A sliver of darkness appeared along her skin. For a second, Luke simply thought it another track of her tears, revealing darker skin beneath the white dust.
But then he realized what it was.
They couldn’t help Tola Annax anymore. She was already dead.
The crack widened, and more darkness was revealed—darkness that was luminous, pulsating. Abeloth had somehow managed to harness all, or close to all, the dark-side energy that permeated this world, and compress it into this one pitiable being. What had once been Tola Annax now contained unfathomable dark-side energy waiting to be released. It had been both a trick and a test. Had they attacked her, leaping into the pit and slicing her to ribbons with lightsabers, they would have been at the center of the explosion. No one would have survived—and they might yet not survive.
All this registered in a fraction of a heartbeat. “Retreat!” cried Luke, wasting no more breath on words, instead sending a shock wave of urgency in the Force and an image of their initial landing area. There was no time to comm Ben; instead Luke focused on visualizing his son and sending him the same urgent missive: Retreat. Get to safety. Get out.
Everyone responded at once, without question or hesitation, and began to race back toward the gate. The ground began to shake again, yet more violently, and Luke heard the sound of laughter—Abeloth’s laughter—following them as they ran for their very lives.
The cloud above them changed. Force lightning struck the ground, struck the ships in the air, struck the Jedi using the Force to give them added speed and distance as they ran. All around them, buildings crumbled to dust. Luke deflected a chunk of a wall hurtling toward him, directing it to slam into another boulder that was heading straight for Seha.
Saba was a few meters ahead of him as they ran. The ground cracked open a scant step in front of her. Without breaking stride, she Force-leapt easily over the suddenly manifesting chasm, landed on the other side, and kept going. Luke, Jaina, and the others did likewise.
The explosion behind them hurled them all into the air. Luke himself had to scramble so he didn’t land hard. Even as he twisted to land on his feet, he reached out in the Force and cushioned the fall for some of the less experienced Jedi Knights. He ended up facing back the way he had come, and his eyes widened at what he beheld.
The dormant volcano was dormant no longer. Gouts of orange magma spewed kilometers into the air and rained death down along the side of the mountain. It was a terrifying sight, but what alarmed Luke even more than the racing lava was the cloud above it. It looked like smoke, churning and billowing, gray and thick, but it was nothing so benevolent as mere choking ash. He knew what he was looking at.
Rock so hot it had turned into foam five times hotter than boiling water, moving at more than a hundred kilometers an hour. If this pyroclastic surge overtook them, they would be incinerated instantly, their bodies turned into charcoal.
And it would overtake them within minutes.
Their masks prevented the inhalation of the poisonous gases and thick, blinding ash, but could not cool the suddenly superheated air. Luke used the Force to cool it as best he could as he inhaled. Beside and in front of him, he saw two Jedi suddenly start clawing at their throats, falling an instant later. They had inhaled without cooling the air, and Luke felt sympathetic anguish at the agony in which they had died, drowning in their lungs’ own fluid. He squeezed his eyes shut and created a barrier around them with the Force to protect them, running forward now using only his other four senses and the Force.
Fear, determination, pain—all arose around him as the Jedi raced to outrun the cloud of dark side oblivion that was hard on their heels. Some of them would not make it—some already had not. But most of them would.
He forced his eyes to open briefly. Saba Sebatyne, the one with the longest legs of them all, had already reached the gate. Not bothering to raise it, lest it be lowered again on them, she had simply blown the durasteel portcullis apart with the Force. Jedi raced through the hole, even as the walls that held it started to crumble.
Joy and gratitude washed through Luke as he saw dozens of vessels landing and taking on the nearly exhausted Jedi ground force. Others kept going, heading for their own StealthXs. He reached for his comlink, shouting to be heard over the rumble.
“Ben! Ben, can you hear me?”
There was only silence. Luke cursed, clicked the comlink again. “Raynar! Can you take on more passengers?” Most of the Jedi had flown in their own StealthXs, but there had been several larger ships included in the fleet. Raynar had piloted one such, and could get to the tunnels before Luke even reached the Jade Shadow.
“Yes, Master Luke, where do you wish me to go?” Thul’s voice, calm as ever.
“Go to the entrance of the caves. Get Ben, Vestara, and Natua. Right now!”
“Adjusting course, Master Skywalker.”
“Thank you,” said Luke, permitting himself to feel a slight sense of relief. Just as he clicked off the comlink, a sudden vision flashed into his mind: the image of the multilegged, red-eyed creature carved onto the ancient wall. He suddenly realized what it was, and a new, horrible apprehension for Ben’s safety seized him.
Find my son, he thought desperately, as he ran with flagging strength toward where he had left the Jade Shadow.
Find my son.
THE LAVA TUNNELS OF UPEKZAR
THE CHOICE WAS MADE IN AN INSTANT.
Vestara loved Ben. The Dream Singer would not have him. And Ben would never have to know what she did for him. As certain about this as she had ever been in her life, Vestara whirled to attack. She lifted her lightsaber high, the glowing red light illuminating a face contorted in anger and determination, and brought it down.
The crimson weapon slashed through Natua’s mask.
Taken completely by surprise, the Falleen stumbled backward, turning shocked eyes on Vestara. Vestara snarled and began attacking her. To Vestara’s own shock, Natua didn’t seem affected by the pheromones.
Of course … Natua was a Falleen …
Fear shot through Vestara as Natua, recovered from the unexpectedness of the betrayal, fought back fiercely.
“I knew we could never trust a Sith!” Natua snarled as her lightsaber danced and clashed with Vestara’s.
Vestara parried and thrust and slashed, her blade making a sharp sound as it cut air and sizzled against the Jedi’s lightsaber. Natua would fall, resistance or not. She could not stand against the creature and a Sith both.
And then it happened. Natua stumbled, lowering her lightsaber, and began to shriek. She started fighting again, her blade slashing empty air, and Vestara was able to dart in easily and cut a furrow across her torso.
Natua fell to the floor, flailing and screaming, her lightsaber making futile burns in the rock. Vestara stood over the spasming body, her own lightsaber lowered, sweat sheening her brow. She met the creature’s compound eyes and felt their kinship. It dipped its head in—gratitude? acknowledgment?—and moved forward onto Natua. Its feelers extended, running over the thrashing form in a vile caress as it fed deeply on the Falleen’s terror.
Vestara could tell the exact minute when Natua’s mind finally snapped. Her eyes widened, and then her body grew limp, though she continued to breathe. The creature looked up from its feeding and regarded Vestara.
… Ssssssiiithhh … Cooooome …
Vestara heard movement behind her and a soft groan. Ben was awakening. With a slow smile, she leapt at the Dream Singer, attacking it with all her strength.
“Vestara!” And then Ben was on his feet, stumbling into the fray.
He was safe. Natua was dead.
It couldn’t possibly have gone more smoothly.
The terror still shuddered through Ben, even as his body struggled against a second bout of unconsciousness. He had no way of knowing what was real and what was an illusion, but after he realized what was happening to him, Ben knew what he had to do. What his father had taught him, what his namesake had taught his father.
Trust your feelings.
He trusted his love for Vestara. He trusted his friendship with Natua. And he trusted that if he was determined enough, strong enough, he could still fight and not fall prey to the terror that seemed to flow through his blood with every beat of his rapidly pounding heart.
He couldn’t tell if it was truly a monster, or another sentient being, or what. He couldn’t tell if Natua was really dead, couldn’t tell if that was really a lightsaber slash across her torso or part of the pheromone-induced illusion. But he could feel the evil roiling off his adversary, and could no longer sense Natua in the Force, and that was enough for him to charge in fighting.
The ground suddenly shook beneath their feet and he and Vestara, both caught off-guard, had to act quickly to prevent being hurled to the stone floor. Ben, his senses still bedazzled by the attack, heard Vestara grunt and looked up to see a huge stalactite hovering only a few centimeters above his head. She threw it away with the Force, and he heard it crack as it landed.
Vestara grabbed and shook him. “Ben! Listen to me!”
He blinked, trying to focus on her. She looked like Vestara, and she wasn’t terrifying the life out of him—
“We have to get out. Now. The tunnels are collapsing.”
“Natua—” He whirled, turning to where the creature was. It was nowhere to be seen, nor was Natua. It had used the distraction of the quake to escape. His gaze fell on a bloody smear that disappeared into the darkness.
Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Ascension Page 38