Rule of Two (37 page)

“If you do not help my Master I will hunt your daughter down. I will find her, torture her, and kill her,” she vowed, carefully hitting each word for emphasis. “But first I will make her watch as I torture and kill every other person she cares about.”

Caleb smirked, amused at her empty threat. “Go, then. Seek her out and leave me alone. We both know you will never find her.”

Again, he had her. With no name and not even a physical description, it would be impossible to track down one woman who could be on any of a million Republic worlds.

Scowling, Zannah glanced once more down at his scarred hand. It stood as mute testament to the fact she couldn’t break him through raw physical pain, no matter how brutal. But with no other options left, she decided to try anyway.

She reached out with the Force and picked Caleb up. His feet dangled only a few centimeters off the floor, yet his head brushed against the shack’s low, slanted roof. She began to squeeze, applying pressure directly to his internal organs, slowly crushing them as she inflicted an agonizing pain few beings had ever experienced. She was careful to leave his lungs alone, however—allowing him enough air to breath and speak.

“You know how to make this end,” she said coldly. “Say you will heal my Master.”

He grunted and gasped in pain, but shook his head.

“Zannah! What are you doing?”

Darovit had come into the shack, curious as to what was taking her so long. Now he stood in the doorway, staring in horror at the scene.

“Stop it!” he shouted at her. “You’re killing him! Put him down!”

With a sharp growl of frustration she released her grip, letting Caleb fall to the floor. Darovit rushed to his side to see if he was okay, but the older man shook his head and waved him away. He rose to his hands and knees, then settled back onto his heels, his hands resting on his thighs as he took slow, deep breaths.

Darovit turned on her. “What did you do that for?” he demanded angrily.

“He refused to help us,” she said, her voice more defensive than she meant it to be.

“I will not release that monster on the galaxy a second time,” Caleb declared, his teeth still clenched against the lingering effects of Zannah’s torture. “There is nothing you can do to make me save him.”

Zannah dropped to one knee beside him. “I can use my powers to conjure up your worst nightmares and bring them to life before your eyes,” she whispered. “I can drive you mad with fear, shred your sanity, and leave you a raving lunatic for the rest of your life.”

Darovit just stared at her, shocked by her words. Caleb only smiled his infuriating smile.

“If you do,” the healer calmly replied, “your Master will still die.”

Zannah chewed her lip, glaring at him. Then she leapt to her feet and stormed out of the cabin, leaving Darovit and Caleb alone.

23

F
uming, Zannah stomped her way across the sand between Caleb’s shack and the edge of the camp, where her Master lay on the hover gurney.

She checked the monitor attached to the gurney’s side, getting a reading of his vitals. He was still alive, but fading fast. Soon he would be gone, taking all his knowledge and secrets with him.

She was standing over the gurney when Darovit emerged from the shack several minutes later. He crossed the camp to stand beside her, gazing down at Bane.

“When he goes,” he said, offering his cousin words of condolence, “at least he’ll go peacefully.”

“Peace is a lie!” Zannah snarled back. “It doesn’t matter if you die in your sleep or on the battlefield, dead is still dead.”

“At least he’s not feeling any pain,” Darovit replied, tossing out another meaningless platitude.

“If you feel pain,” she answered, “it means you’re still alive. Give me pain over peace any day.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, Zannah,” Darovit said sadly, shaking his head. “Can’t you see what he’s made you become?”

He made me become a Sith
, she thought. Out loud she said, “He made me strong. He gave me power.”

“Is that all you care about now, Zannah? Power?”

“Through power I gain victory, and through victory my chains are broken.”

“Power doesn’t always bring victory,” Darovit countered. “Even with all the power you have, you couldn’t make Caleb help you.”

Bane would have found a way
, she thought bitterly, but didn’t say anything.

“I understand what happened to you,” her cousin said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You were just a kid. Scared. Alone. Bane found you and took you in. I understand your loyalty to him. I understand why you care about him.”

Zannah shook his hand off and turned to stare at him with an expression of wide-eyed disbelief. “I’m a Sith. I don’t care about anyone but myself.”

“You care about me.”

Zannah didn’t reply, refusing to be drawn again into the same argument they’d had on the way to Tython.

“You don’t want to admit it,” Darovit pressed, “but I know you care about me. And about your Master, too. Your actions prove that, no matter what you say. But Caleb’s right, you know. Bane’s a monster; we can’t let him go free.

“But he doesn’t necessarily have to die,” he added.

“What do you mean?” Zannah said, suddenly wary.

“I spoke with Caleb. He thinks you’re a monster, too. But he doesn’t know you like I do. You’re not a monster, Zannah … but you’ll become one if you let anger and hate rule your life.”

“Now you sound like the Jedi,” she said carefully. Darovit was clearly up to something, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

“I’m starting to realize they’re better than the alternative,” he admitted. “I know what’s going to happen, Zannah. If Bane dies, you’ll kill Caleb.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Probably.” There was no point in lying.

“You’re balanced on the precipice,” her cousin warned her, his voice suddenly urgent and intense. “You can still turn back from this life, Zannah. But if Bane dies, I know your desire to avenge him will drive you to murder Caleb. And I’m afraid your Master’s death will push you over the edge. It’ll turn you into him.

“I don’t
want
you to turn into him,” he added more softly, nodding down at Bane’s motionless form on the gurney. “I have to save you from yourself. I had to find some way to stop you from killing Caleb. So I convinced him to heal Bane. It’s the only way to make you turn away from the teachings of the Sith.”

“That … that makes no sense,” Zannah said, her mind reeling as she tried to wrap her head around his logic. “If Bane lives he’ll never let me abandon my studies.”
And why would I even want to?
she added silently.

“Before Caleb will help,” her cousin explained, “you have to dispatch one of the
Loranda
’s message drones. You have to tell the Jedi where we are so they can come and arrest Bane.”

“What?” Zannah shouted, taking a half step away from him. “That’s crazy!”

“No, it’s not!” he said, grabbing her by the arm with his good hand and pulling her back to face him. “Please, Zannah, just listen to me. If you send that message to the Jedi and hand Bane over to them, it will prove you’re turning your back on the ways of the Sith. It will show you want to make up for all the pain and suffering you’ve caused.

“And it’s the only way Caleb will agree to heal him,” he added a second later, letting go of her arm.

“You saw what Bane can do,” she said. “What’s to stop him from killing the Jedi when they get here?”

“The orbalisk toxin is melting Bane’s body from the
inside. Even with Caleb’s help it will be weeks, maybe months, before he can even get out of bed.”

“So what’s to stop me from just taking Bane away as soon as he’s healed?”

“Your greatest weapon is secrecy. The Jedi think your Order is extinct. They won’t waste their time chasing shadows every time someone whispers the word
Sith
. That’s the only reason you’ve been able to survive so far.

“But once you send off the message drone, everything changes. They’ll know the Sith still exist. They’ll have the proof they need to drive them to action. Every Jedi Knight and Jedi Master across a million worlds will be searching for you. The Sith won’t be able to hide anymore.”

Zannah knew he was right. It was the very reason Bane had worked so hard to keep their existence nothing more than an unfounded rumor.

“Besides,” Darovit added, “Caleb won’t do anything unless we disable the ship first. If you try to run, you’ll have to drag Bane out into the desert on foot. Even if he survived the trip, you wouldn’t get very far before the Jedi arrived.”

“Sounds like the healer doesn’t trust me,” Zannah mumbled darkly.

“You did almost kill him,” her cousin pointed out.

“If I hand him over to the Jedi,” she wondered aloud, “what happens to me?”

“I don’t know,” the young man admitted. “The Jedi might arrest you, too. But I’m hoping they’ll recognize your actions as a turning point in your life. Maybe they’ll see it as an attempt to make amends.

“Maybe they’ll even take you in,” he suggested. “I’ve heard the Jedi believe in the power of redemption. And, like I said, it’s better than the alternative.”

“What about you?” she asked. “What will you do?”

“I won’t be part of this if you choose to kill Caleb and let Bane die,” he told her. “But I don’t think you will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve told you, Zannah—we share a bond. I can tell what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. You’re afraid of being alone … but you’re
not
alone. Not anymore.

“You’ll make the right choice. And when you do, I’ll be there for you.”

She weighed the offer carefully, chewing on her lip so hard her teeth drew blood. If she refused, Bane was dead and she’d have to continue the Sith Order on her own. Kill Caleb, find an apprentice … probably kill Darovit, too. If she agreed, she had to betray her Master to the Jedi, which would mark the end of the Sith and the first step in her long road of redemption and atonement.

“Bane’s time is running out,” her cousin prodded. “You have to decide.”

The two paths loomed large before her: alone into the darkness, or into the light with Darovit at her side. She spun the problem over and over in her mind until, finally, the answer came to her.

“Tell Caleb I agree to his demands.”

Bane opened his eyes slowly; his lids felt heavy, weighed down as if they were lined with metal filings. He could feel them brushing over his pupils, rubbing like sandpaper as he blinked against the harsh light streaming down on him. The brightness made him squint again as he tried to sit up.

His body refused to move. Legs, arms, and torso ignored the impulses from his brain to rise. Even his head couldn’t budge. There was sensation in his extremities: He could tell he was lying on his back, and he could feel the rough grain of a burlap sheet or a coarsely woven cloth against his skin. But he was paralyzed, unable to move.

He let his eyes flicker open once more, and the brightness began to fade as his pupils gradually contracted. He was staring up at a low, sloping ceiling of simple wooden planks. A ray of sunlight beamed through a narrow crack in the wood, shining directly on his face.

Groaning he managed to turn his head to the side so the light no longer hit his eyes. The change of angle also gave him a better view of the room he was in: small, plain, and strangely familiar. Before he could match the setting to any of his memories, a figure stepped into his line of sight.

From the fact that he was staring directly into a pair of worn leather boots, Bane deduced that he was lying on the floor. The figure stood over him for a moment, then crouched down to look him in the eye.

The face—ten years older, but unmistakable—jogged the Dark Lord’s memory. He had lain on this very floor over a decade earlier on the border between life and death, even as he lay now.

Caleb
, he tried to say, but the only sound that came out was a soft groan. Like the rest of his body, his lips, tongue, and jaw refused to move. Bane tried to call upon the power of the dark side to grant him strength, but his will was as weak and helpless as the rest of him.

“He’s awake,” Caleb called out loudly, never taking his eyes off his patient.

From outside Bane heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He tried to speak again, pouring all his strength into a single word.

“Caleb.”

His voice was a faint whisper, but this time the word was clear. The healer didn’t bother to respond. Instead he stood up, leaving Bane staring at his boots once more. Bane heard the dull thud of running footsteps on the sand outside change to the sharp clack of boot heels on the shack’s wooden floor.

“Let me see him!”

He recognized the voice of his apprentice, and his mind slowly began to reassemble the pieces of what had happened. He remembered the battle with the Jedi on Tython; he remembered unleashing a storm of Force lightning at the last of his foes. He remembered the kriffing shield the Ithorian Master had thrown up around him. After that, all his memories were of unbearable pain.

Somehow the Jedi’s barrier had trapped Bane inside the center of the dark side storm. The electricity had enveloped him, millions of volts arcing through his body, cooking his flesh from the inside and throwing his muscles into an endless series of violent seizures that threatened to rip his body apart.

The energy had coursed through the orbalisks embedded in his skin, too. The creatures absorbed the power, hungrily devouring it until they became so engorged that the soft, pliant flesh of their underbellies had begun to swell. Squeezed ever tighter against the unyielding chitin of their own exterior shells, they’d begun to burrow deeper into Bane. He remembered screaming as thousands of tiny teeth started sawing away at subcutaneous tissue, chewing through muscles, tendons, and even bone.

But burrowing deeper hadn’t stopped the creatures from feasting on the electricity coursing through Bane’s frying innards. They’d continued to expand until they had begun to pop, rupturing like overfilled balloons pinched beneath the hard shells.