• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

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.”

23

“Those who use the dark side are also bound to serve it.