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“They are the strongest of our order,” Kopecz reminded him. “We both know even the lowliest students on Korriban are stronger than half the so-called Dark Lords here on Ruusan.”

“Qordis’s work is not yet complete. The students there still have so much to learn,” Kaan insisted, though without much force. “So much untapped potential. The Academy represents the future of the Sith.”

“If we cannot defeat the Jedi here on Ruusan, then we have no future!” Kopecz insisted.

Lord Kaan clutched his head with his hands, as if a great pain threatened to burst his skull in two. He began to tremble in the grip of some terrible palsy. Kopecz involuntarily stepped back.

It only took a few seconds for Kaan to regain his composure and lower his hands. The haunted look in his eyes was gone, replaced by the calm self-assurance that had drawn so many to the Brotherhood in the first place.

“You’re right, old friend,” he said. The words were smooth and easy; he spoke as if a great weight had been lifted from him. He radiated confidence and strength. He seemed to glow with a violet aura, as if he were the very embodiment of the dark side. And suddenly, inexplicably, Kopecz was reassured.

“I will send word to Qordis,” Kaan continued, the Force emanating from him in palpable waves. “You are right. It is time for those at the Academy on Korriban to truly join the ranks of the Sith.”

19

Bane had never been so hungry in his life. It twisted his stomach into knots, causing him to hunch over as he trudged slowly across Korriban’s wastes toward Dreshdae. For thirteen days he had searched the tombs in the Valley of the Dark Lords, sustaining himself only with the Force and the hydration tablets he’d brought along for the desert journey. He never slept, but rested his mind from time to time through meditation. Yet for all its power, even the Force couldn’t create something from nothing. It could ward off starvation for a time, but not forever.

Twice he’d been set on by packs of tuk’ata, the guardian hounds that prowled the crypts of their former Masters. The first time he’d driven them away with the Force, seizing the body of the alpha male and hurling it into the rest of the pack, injuring several of the beasts. They’d scurried away with high-pitched howls that had sent shivers down his spine. The second attack had been far bloodier. While exploring one of the most recent tombs he’d found himself surrounded by a dozen tuk’ata: a pack twice the size of the first. He’d unleashed his lightsaber on them, slicing through flesh and bone. When the pack finally broke and fled, only four of the twelve tuk’ata still lived.

After that the tuk’ata left him alone, which was a good thing, because he was no longer sure he’d be able to hold them off if they attacked again. To fuel his muscles for the ongoing search through tomb after tomb, he’d overtaxed his body’s reserves, literally devouring himself from the inside out. Now he was paying the price.

He could have eased his suffering by slipping into a meditative trance, slowing his heartbeat and vital functions to preserve his energy. Yet in the end that would accomplish nothing. Nobody would come to find him, and eventually even a state of hibernation would end in a slow, if relatively painless, death.

Death was not an option he was ready to consider. Not yet. Despite his futile search, despite the crushing disappointment, he wasn’t ready for that. Not if it meant that the truth he had discovered would die with him. So he endured the pain, and willed his rapidly failing flesh to take him back. Back to the Academy.

It had taken him only a day to walk to the valley at the beginning of his quest. He was now on the third day of his trip back. He had been strong and fresh when he’d first set out; now he was famished and weak. But there was more to his slowed pace than mere physical wanting.

Before he had been buoyed by expectation. Now he was weighed down by the burden of failure. Qordis had been right: the ancient Dark Lords of Korriban were gone. Nearly three thousand years had passed