Star Wars: Path of Destruction: A Novel of the Old Republic (40 page)

The vehicle was bearing down on him in a direct line. Bane let his hand drop to his lightsaber, ready to unclip it at a moment’s notice. The Force welled up within him, prepared to throw up a protective shield if the flier’s front-mounted blasters should open fire.

But the flier didn’t attack. Instead it swooped a few meters over his head, banked sharply, then came in for a landing beside his own.

“You have no need of your weapon,” Qordis said as he dismounted. “I’ve come with an offer.”

Realizing there was no immediate threat, Bane let his hand drop back to his side. “An offer? What could you possibly have to offer me?”

“My allegiance,” Qordis said, dropping to one knee.

Bane stared down at him, his expression a mixture of horror, amusement, and contempt. “Why would you give your allegiance to me?” he asked. “And why should I even want it?”

Qordis rose slowly to his feet, a cunning smile on his lips. “I am not blind, Lord Bane. I see you speaking with Githany. I see how you are undermining Kaan. I know the real reason you have come to Ruusan.”

Perplexed, Bane wondered if it was possible that Qordis-the founder of the Academy on Korriban, the most ardent proponent of all that was wrong with the Sith-had finally seen the truth.

“What exactly are you proposing?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“I know what happened to Kas’im. He sided with Kaan against you. He paid for that decision with his life. I am not so foolish. I know you’re here to take over the Brotherhood,” he declared. “I believe you will succeed. And I want to help you.”

“You want to help me take over the Brotherhood?” Bane laughed; Qordis was as blind and misguided as the rest of them. “Replace one leader with another, and you and the rest of the Brotherhood continue on as before? That’s your brilliant plan?”

“I can prove quite useful to you, Lord Bane Qordis insisted. “Many of the Brotherhood are former students of my Academy. They still look to me for wisdom and guidance.”

“And therein lies the problem.” Bane lashed out with the dark side, seizing Qordis in an immobilizing, crushing grip. His opponent tried to protect himself, throwing up a field to deflect the incoming assault, but Bane’s attack tore through the pitiful defense, wiping it away as if it hadn’t even been there.

There was a strangled cry of pain from Qordis as the Force tightened around him and lifted him up from the ground.

“Your wisdom has destroyed our order,” Bane explained casually, watching as Qordis struggled helplessly above him. “You have polluted the minds of your followers; you and Kaan have led them down the path of ruin.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Qordis gasped, barely able to speak as the breath was squeezed inexorably from his lungs.

“That has always been the problem,” Bane replied. “The Brotherhood must be purged. The Sith must be destroyed and rebuilt. You, Kaan, and all the others must be wiped from the face of the galaxy. That is why I have returned.”

Dawning horror spread across Qordis’s long, drawn features. “Please he groaned, “not … like this. Release me. Let me … draw my lightsaber. Let us fight … like Sith.”

Bane tilted his head to the side. “Surely you know I could kill you just as easily with my lightsaber as I could with the Force.”

“I … know.” Qordis’s skin was turning red, and his body was trembling as the pressure mounted. Each word he spoke took tremendous effort, yet somehow the dying man found the strength to make his final plea. “More … honor … in … death … by … combat?’

Bane gave an indifferent shrug. “Honor is for the living. Dead is dead.”

A final push with his mind tightened the invisible vise. Qordis let out a final scream, but with no air in his lungs it came out only as a rattling gasp that was lost beneath the snapping and crackling of his bones.

Had Bane still been capable of such emotions he might actually have pitied the man. As it was, he simply let the corpse fall to the ground then wandered into Kaan’s tent and the communications equipment inside. It was time to enact the second phase of his plan.

On the deck of Nightfall, great flagship of the Sith fleet, acting commander Admiral Adrianna Nyras responded to the hailing frequency coming from the private comlink on her wrist.

“This is Admiral Nyras,” she said into it. “I await your orders, Lord Kaan.”

“Lord Kaan is not here,” an unfamiliar voice replied. “This is Lord Bane.”

She hesitated for only a second before answering. Kaan rarely let anyone else use his personal transceiver, but on occasion it did happen. And with the security encryption on the equipment, it was virtually impossible for anyone else to tap into the frequency. The message had to be coming from the Sith camp, which meant she really was speaking to one of the Dark Lords.

“Forgive me, Lord Bane,” she apologized. “What are your orders?”

“Status report.”

“Unchanged,” she replied, her voice sharp with military precision and efficiency. “The blockade is intact. The Jedi fleet still hovers just beyond our range.”

“Engage.”

“Pardon?” she asked, so surprised that she momentarily forgot whom she was speaking to.

“You heard me, Admiral,” the voice on the other end snapped. “Engage the Jedi fleet.”

The order made no sense. The last time Kaan had spoken to her, he had ordered her to hold their position at all costs. As long as they maintained location in orbit, their blockade was virtually impenetrable. If they broke formation and attacked the Jedi fleet, however, they wouldn’t be able to stop drop ships from landing reinforcements on the surface.

Still, she had been given strange orders before during her service with the Sith. There were rumors that Kaan had some mystic power, some way to influence the outcome of a battle through the power of the Force that could make traditional strategies fall by the wayside. And if a Dark Lord was giving her a direct order, using the personal communications equipment in Lord Kaan’s tent, she wasn’t about to run the risk of refusing to obey.

“As you command, Lord Bane,” she answered. “We will engage the Jedi.”

The fire drove General Hoth and his army from the sheltering confines of the forest. Leaving most of their supplies and equipment behind, his troops ran through the trees, a mad scramble to escape the searing heat and flames. Those who stumbled or fell were instantly swallowed up by the conflagration. Somehow most managed to stay ahead of the deadly fires, eventually bursting out of the woods and into the rocky plains where so many battles had already been fought.

The Sith were there waiting for them.

The first wave of Hoth’s followers to emerge from the forest were mowed down by blasterfire. Those just behind were able to draw their lightsabers and deflect many of the deadly bolts as they raced out onto the plains, only to be swallowed up by the throngs of Sith soldiers rushing forward to engage them.

Though outnumbered, the Jedi more than held their own. They drove the Sith ranks back, breaking their lines and throwing them into chaos and disarray. But Hoth knew that the real trap had yet to be sprung.

Hewing down any foe foolish enough to come in range of his lightsaber, the general could sense these were not the true Sith. The Dark Lords were not among them: these were the faceless hordes, nothing more than a distraction.

Where are they? What is Kaan up to?

The answer came an instant later when a battalion of fliers swooped in over the horizon, unleashing a deadly barrage across the battlefield. Guided by the power of the dark side, the heavy guns were deadly in their accuracy, decimating Hoth’s troops and turning the tide of the battle back in favor of the Sith.

Hoth had faced impossible odds before and triumphed. Yet he knew this battle was fated to be his last.

But I will make a last stand worthy of story and song, he thought defiantly, even though there won’t be anybody left to sing it.

The world dissolved into the numbing fog of war. Screams and the sounds of battle became a dull, indistinguishable roar. The spray of dirt and stone from the blaster bolts exploding into the ground showered down on him from above, mingling with the sweat and blood of both friend and foe. He swung each blow as if it might be his last, knowing that sooner or later one of the fliers would lock in on him and swoop down to finish him off.

Lord Kaan’s flier carved a path back and forth above the milling soldiers on the battlefield below, soaring over the chaos like a grim bird of prey. From his vantage point it was clear the battle was theirs. Yet even though they were ill equipped, outnumbered, and badly outgunned, the Jedi fought bravely to the bitter end. There was no hint of retreat, no breaking of their ranks. He couldn’t help but admire such courage and such devotion to a cause even in the face of certain death. If his own troops had been so steadfast in their loyalty and purpose, he would have won this war long ago. It wasn’t that they lacked discipline: the Sith armies were just as well trained as those of the Jedi or the Republic. They simply lacked conviction.

Too often their morale had been held together only by the sheer force of Kaan’s will, his battle meditation strengthening their resolve whenever the situation seemed grim or desperate. But his battle meditation could only do so much. Against an entire army of Jedi on guard against the Force powers of the Sith, it could do little more than instill a vague sense of unease. A small advantage, but one easily overcome. Here on the surface of this wretched world, the Brotherhood of Darkness and its minions had been forced to fight on their own merits, without his intervention. And far too many times they had come up short.

There had been occasions when he’d questioned the ability of his followers to succeed on their own. There were instances when he wondered if the Sith troops had become so reliant on the enormous advantage of his battle meditation that they had forgotten how to fight effectively without it. But now, at last, the ultimate victory had been achieved. The Jedi were making a last, desperate stand-one glorious to behold-yet the outcome was inevitable. There was just one thing left for Lord Kaan to do before the fighting ended.

He continued to weave back and forth, firing sporadically at the enemy below as he searched for his real prey. Then at last he saw him: General Hoth, standing in the very center of the fray, surrounded by a bulwark of valiant allies and a relentless sea of Sith foes that broke against them again and again and again.

Locking his flier’s guns on his target he swooped in, intent on taking his rival’s life in a spectacular strafing run. But a mere second before he fired, a massive explosion rocked his flier, causing it to veer to the left. His shots carved a deep furrow in the ground several meters to the left of the general, leaving him miraculously unharmed.

Hoth continued fighting as if he hadn’t even noticed, but Kaan banked his vehicle around sharply to see what had happened. Before he completed the turn, another explosion shook the sky beside him, and he saw one of the other fliers careen out of control and crash into the ground.

He looked up, realizing they were under attack from above. A pair of massive gunships were descending on the battle, their batteries blasting the Sith fliers from the sky one by one. On the underside of each ship, the colors of Jedi Master Valenthyne Farfalla were clearly visible.

Impossible! Kaan cursed silently. There is no way they could have broken through the blockade! Not with ships like this! Yet somehow they had.

Another series of blasts took out three more of the small fliers, and Kaan realized it was his army that was now suddenly overmatched. The fliers were quicker and more maneuverable than the Jedi gunships, but their blasters wouldn’t even make a dent in the larger vessels’ heavily armored hulls.

For a brief second he thought he might be able to rally the other Dark Lords. If they concentrated their attacks, they might be able to bring the gunships down-though their own losses would be heavy. But he dismissed that idea as quickly as it had come.

He wasn’t the only one who had noticed the arrival of the Jedi reinforcements. Faced with overwhelming odds, the Dark Lords under his command had reacted in the only manner they understood: self-preservation through flight. Already most of the other fliers had broken off their strafing runs and were executing evasive maneuvers, intent only on escaping the battlefield alive. And with their Lords and Masters fleeing the engagement, the hordes of Sith soldiers on the ground would be quick to follow. Imminent victory was about to become disastrous defeat.

Swearing vile oaths against both the Jedi and his own people, Lord Kaan knew there was only one option left. Weaving and darting to avoid a pair of bolts intended to blow him from the sky, he joined the retreat.

General Hoth couldn’t help but offer the ragged hint of a smile despite the dead and wounded that lay scattered across the battlefield. The Sith had sprung their trap, and somehow the Army of Light had survived.

He recognized Farfalla’s colors on the gunships that were now circling the field, keeping the Sith stragglers pinned down under whatever cover they could find until the troops on the ground could surround them and demand their surrender. Most were quick to comply. Everyone knew the Jedi preferred taking prisoners over killing their enemies, just as everyone knew the Jedi treated their prisoners humanely. The same could not be said for the Sith, of course.

A small convoy of personal fliers was emerging from the gunships, flying down to join the survivors on the ground. The general recognized Farfalla aboard the lead flier, even as Farfalla caught sight of him and came in to land.

The younger Jedi stepped off his flier, not speaking but extending his hand by way of cautious greeting. He was dressed in clothes as bright and outlandish as ever, but for some reason it didn’t bother Hoth as it once had. Hoth stepped over to him and clasped him in a firm embrace, causing Farfalla to laugh in surprise. Hoth only released him from the fierce hug when Farfalla began to cough and sputter.

“Greetings, Lord Hoth,” Farfalla said once he was released, making a deep bow and a flourish. Standing up, he gazed out across the battlefield, and his expression became more serious. “My only regret is we couldn’t get here sooner.”