Star Wars: Path of Destruction: A Novel of the Old Republic (32 page)

She entered tentatively. What she had to say was for his ears only. Fortunately, she found him alone. But she stopped in the entry, staring in morbid fascination at the apparition before her. In the dim glow of the lantern that served as the tent’s only source of illumination, Kaan looked like a man gone mad.

He was pacing quickly up and down the length of the tent, his steps uneven and erratic. He was hunched over nearly double, muttering to himself and shaking his head. His left hand constantly strayed up to tug on a strand of his hair, then quickly jerked down as if it had been caught in some forbidden act.

She could hardly believe that this crazed being was the man she had chosen to follow. Was it possible Bane had been right all along? She was on the verge of slipping back out into the sodden night when Kaan turned and finally noticed her.

For a brief moment his eyes showed wild panic: they burned with the fear and desperation of a caged animal. Then suddenly he snapped to his full height, standing straight and tall. The look of terror left his eyes, replaced by one of cold anger.

“Githany,” he said, his welcome as cold as his icy expression. “I was not expecting visitors.”

Now it was she who felt fear. Lord Kaan radiated power: he could crush her as easily as she crushed the small beetles that sometimes scuttled across the floor of her tent. The memory of the craven, broken man was gone, blasted from her mind by the overwhelming aura of Kaan’s authority.

“Forgive me, Lord Kaan,” she said with a slight bow of her head. “I need to speak with you.”

His anger seemed to soften, though he still maintained his undeniably commanding presence. “Of course, Githany. I always have time for you.”

The words were more than cordial formality; there was something deeper beneath them. Githany was an attractive woman; she was used to being the object of innuendo and men’s barely hidden desire. Usually it evoked little more than revulsion, but in Kaan’s case it brought a warm flush to her cheeks. He was the founder of the Brotherhood of Darkness, a man of vision and destiny. How could she not be flattered by his attentions?

“I’ve had a premonition,” she explained. “I saw … I saw Darth Bane. He was coming to Ruusan to destroy us.”

“Qordis has made me well aware of Bane’s views,” he said, nodding. “This is not unexpected.”

“He doesn’t see the glory of our cause,” Githany said, apologizing for Bane. “He’s never met you in person. His only understanding of the Brotherhood comes through Qordis and the other Masters-the ones who turned their backs on him.”

Kaan gave her a puzzled stare. “You came to warn me that Bane is planning to destroy us. Now it seems you are trying to justify his actions.”

“The Force shows us what may be, not necessarily what will be,” she reminded him. “lf we can convince Bane to join us, he could be a valuable ally against the Jedi.”

“I see,” Kaan said. “You feel that if we bring him into the fold of the Brotherhood, then your premonition will not come true.” There was a long pause, and then he asked, “Are you certain your personal feelings for him are not clouding your judgment in this matter?”

Embarrassed, Githany couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m not the only one who feels this way,” she mumbled, staring down at the ground. “Many of the others from Korriban are troubled by his absence, as well. They’ve felt his strength. They wonder why one so strong in the dark side would reject the Brotherhood.”

She raised her head when Kaan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You might be right, Githany. But I cannot act on your suggestion. Nobody even knows where Bane is.”

“I do. There is a … a bond between us. I can tell you where Bane has gone.”

Kaan reached out to take her chin in his cupped palm. He tilted her head back ever so slightly. “Then I will send someone to him,” he promised. “You did the right thing by coming to me, Githany,” he added, gently releasing her and giving her a reassuring smile.

Githany, beaming with pride, smiled back.

She left a few minutes later, after explaining where Bane had gone and why. Kaan watched her go, her words troubling him though he was careful not to let it show. He had allayed her fears and he was confident she would remain loyal to the Brotherhood despite her obvious attraction to Bane. Githany imagined herself the object of every man’s desire, but Kaan could see a similar desire burning brightly within her: she hungered for power and glory. And he was all too willing to feed her pride and ambition with his flirting, praise, and promises.

Still, he wasn’t sure what to make of her vision. Though he was strong in the Force, his talents lay elsewhere. He could change the course of a war with his battle meditation. He could inspire loyalty in the other Lords through subtle manipulations of their emotions. But he had never experienced a premonition like the one that had brought her to his tent in the middle of the dark night.

His first inclination was to dismiss it as baseless worry brought on by low morale. The reinforcements from Korriban had brought expectations of a quick end to Ruusan’s long war. But General Hoth was too clever to let his Army of Light be crushed by the superior Sith might. He had switched tactics, conducting a war of hit-and-run skirmishes, stalling for time as he tried to marshal more support for his own forces.

Now the Sith were growing impatient and restless. The glorious victory Kaan had promised them weeks earlier had not materialized. Instead they trudged through mud and never-ending rain, trying to defeat an enemy that wouldn’t even stand and fight. Githany’s visit hadn’t surprised him. The only real surprise was that more of the Dark Lords hadn’t come to voice their dissatisfaction.

But that only made Githany’s warnings more dangerous. Bane had rejected the Brotherhood in a very public spectacle; all the recruits from Korriban claimed to have seen it in person. The story had spread through the camp like a plague. At first they had scoffed at his arrogance and stubbornness; he had chosen to walk alone, and he would not share in the triumph of the Brotherhood. In the absence of that triumph, however, some of the recruits had begun to wonder if Bane was right.

Lord Kaan had his spies among the Dark Lords. The whispers had reached his ears. The Lords were not ready to act on their doubts, but their resolve was weakening-along with their allegiance. He had forged a coalition of enemies and bitter rivals. Though the Brotherhood of Darkness appeared strong as durasteel, one firm voice of dissent could fracture it into a thousand fragile pieces.

He grabbed the lantern from his tent and headed out into the night’s drizzle, his long stride propelling him quickly through the camp. He would deal with Bane, just as he had promised Githany. If the recalcitrant young man could not be convinced to join them, he would have to be eliminated.

Within a few minutes Kaan had reached his destination. He paused at the door, remembering his anger at Githany’s unexpected entrance into his own tent. Not wishing to antagonize the man he had come to see, he called out, “Kas’im?”

“Come in,” a voice answered a second later, and he heard the unmistakable shuush of a lightsaber powering down.

He entered to find the Twi’lek Blademaster clad only in breeches, sweating and breathing hard.

“I see you’re up,” he noted.

“It’s not easy to sleep on the eve of battle. Even a battle that never seems to come.”

Kas’im was a warrior; Kaan knew he chafed at their inactivity. Drills and exercises could not quench his desire for actual combat. At the Academy on Korriban the Blademaster had performed his duty without complaint. But here on Ruusan the promise of battle was too near, too insistent. The scent of blood was always in the air, mingling with the sweat of fear and anticipation. Here Kas’im could be satisfied only once he stood face-to-face with an enemy. Soon his frustration would boil over into rebellion, and Kaan could ill afford to lose the loyalty of the greatest swordsman of his camp. Fortunately, he had a way to deal with both his problems-Bane and Kas’im-in one fell swoop.

“I have a mission for you. A mission of great importance.”

“I live to serve, Lord Kaan.” Kas’im’s answer was calm, but his head-tails twitched with anticipation.

“I must send you far from Ruusan. To the ends of the galaxy. You have to go to Lehon.”

“The Unknown World?” the Blademaster asked, puzzled. “There is nothing there but the graveyard of our order’s greatest defeat.”

“Bane is there,” Kaan explained. “You must go to him as my envoy. Explain that he must join the rest of the Sith here on Ruusan. Tell him that those who do not stand with the Brotherhood stand against it.”

Kas’im shook his head. “I doubt it will make a difference. Once his mind is set he can be … stubborn.”

“The dark side cannot be united in the Brotherhood if he stands alone,” Kaan explained. As he spoke, he reached out with the Force, pushing ever so gently at the Twi’lek’s wounded sense of pride. “I know he rejected you and the other Masters on Korriban. But you must make this offer once more.”

“And when he refuses?” Kas’im’s words were quick and sharp. Inwardly, Kaan smiled at the Blademaster’s growing anger even as he pushed just a little more.

“Then you must kill him.”

“Those who use the dark side are also bound to serve it. To understand this is to understand the underlying philosophy of the Sith.”

Bane sat motionless, eyes riveted on the avatar of a Dark Lord three thousand years dead and gone. Revan’s projected image winked out of existence, then slowly flickered back into view. The Holocron was failing. Dying. The material used to construct it-the crystal that channeled the energy of the Force to give the artifact life-was flawed. The more Bane used it, the less stable it became. Yet he couldn’t set it aside, even for a single day. He had become obsessed with tapping all the knowledge trapped within, and he spent hours on end drinking in Revan’s words with the same single-minded determination he had used when mining cortosis back on Apatros.

“The dark side offers power for power’s sake. You must crave it. Covet it. You must seek power above all else, with no reservation or hesitation.”

These words rang especially true for Bane, as if the preprogrammed personality of his virtual Master sensed it was nearing its end and had tailored its last lessons especially for him.

“The Force will change you. It will transform you. Some fear this change. The teachings of the Jedi are focused on fighting and controlling this transformation. That is why those who serve the light are limited in what they can accomplish.

“True power can come only to those who embrace the transformation. There can be no compromise. Mercy, compassion, loyalty: all these things will prevent you from claiming what is rightfully yours. Those who follow the dark side must cast aside these conceits. Those who do not-those who try to walk the path of moderation-will fail, dragged down by their own weakness.”

The words almost perfectly described Bane as he had been during his time at the Academy. Despite this, he felt no shame or regret. That Bane no longer existed. Just as he had cast aside the miner from Apatros when he had taken his Sith name, so had he cast aside the stumbling, uncertain apprentice when he had claimed the Darth title for himself. When he’d rejected Qordis and the Brotherhood, he had begun the transformation Revan spoke of, and with the Holocron’s help he was at last on the verge of completing it.

“Those who accept the power of the dark side must also accept the challenge of holding on to it,” Revan continued. “By its very nature, the dark side invites rivalry and strife. This is the greatest strength of the Sith: it culls the weak from our order. Yet this rivalry can also be our greatest weakness. The strong must be careful lest they be overwhelmed by the ambitions of those beneath them working in concert. Any Master who instructs more than one apprentice in the ways of the dark side is a fool. In time the apprentices will unite their strength and overthrow the Master. It is inevitable. Axiomatic. That is why each Master must have only one student.”

Bane didn’t respond, but his lip instinctively curled up in disgust as he remembered his instruction at the Academy. Qordis and the others had passed the apprentices around from class to class, as if they were children in school instead of heirs to the legacy of the Sith. Was it any wonder he had struggled to reach his full potential in such a flawed system?

“This is also the reason there can be only one Dark Lord. The Sith must be ruled by a single leader: the very embodiment of the strength and power of the dark side. If the leader grows weak, another must rise to seize the mantle. The strong rule; the weak are meant to serve. This is the way it must be.”

The image flickered and jumped, and then the tiny replica of Darth Revan bowed its head, drawing its hood up to hide its features once more. “My time here is ended. Take what I have taught you and use it well.”

And then Revan was gone. The glow emanating from the Holocron faded away to nothing. Bane retrieved the small crystal pyramid from the floor, but it was cold and lifeless in his hands. He felt no trace of the Force inside it.

The artifact was of no more use to him. As Revan had taught him, it must therefore be discarded. He let it drop to the floor. Then, very slowly and deliberately, he crushed it with the power of the Force until only dust remained.

The Sith Buzzard broke into Lehon’s atmosphere and plummeted down through the clear blue sky. At the controls Kas’im made slight alterations to keep his vessel on its course, a direct line for the homing beacon of the Valcyn.

He’d half expected Bane to have disabled the beacon, or at least changed its frequency. But despite being aware of it-the beacon was standard on virtually all craft-he had left it alone. Almost as if he wasn’t afraid of anyone coming after him. As if he welcomed it.

Within a few minutes Kas’im got a visual on his target. The ship that had once-briefly-belonged to Qordis before Bane had taken it for his own was resting on a beach of white sand, the azure waters of the Unknown World’s vast oceans on one side and the impenetrable jungle on the other. Scans showed no signs of life in the immediate vicinity, but Kas’im was wary as he brought his own craft in to touch down beside it.