Star Wars_ Darth Bane 02_ Rule of Two - Drew Karpyshyn [115]
Zannah noted all this from behind the impassable wall of her spinning twin blades, content to play a completely passive role in the encounter. Were it not for the big man’s brilliance, she would have quickly switched to an aggressive sequence and easily dispatched the smaller man. But were it not for the smaller man’s mediocrity, her defensive talents would have been pushed to the very limits by her more skilled opponent. The arrangement suited Zannah just fine, allowing her to play them off against each other. She didn’t need to kill them; she only needed to hold them at bay until Bane, protected by the invulnerable orbalisk shells, killed his two opponents and came to her aid.
She waited until it was time for the smaller man to attack again, then gauged his painfully predictable incoming stroke. Knowing exactly where it would end by watching where it began, she was able to momentarily divert her attention from the combat to see how her Master was doing.
To her surprise, both of Bane’s opponents were still standing: proof they were exceptionally skilled combatants. She also noticed that a fifth Jedi had entered the room: an Ithorian who stood apart from the battle, his eyes closed as if he was meditating. And then she turned her focus back to her own melee, just in time to avoid certain death.
The glance in her Master’s direction had lasted only a fraction of a second, but in the brief interval of her distraction the larger man had sprung forward, jabbing the tip of one of his blades toward her eye like a spear. Zannah snapped her head to the side at the last possible instant, hearing the hiss as the blade sheared off a lock of her hair. The sudden movement threw off her timing and balance, and as her spinning lightsaber slapped away the blow she had earlier anticipated from the smaller man’s green blade, it lost its centripetal momentum and faltered.
In the split second it took to roll her wrists and start the intricate, whirling patterns of her blades again, she was vulnerable. The big man sliced high at her head, forcing her to duck, then chopped in low at her feet on the backstroke, causing her to jump before she could properly set herself. She avoided the swipe, but landed clumsily on her feet. Another blow rained down on her. With her body out of position, she was forced to block its path rather than deflect it to the side. The power of the impact sent her reeling, and she fell to the floor.
The man with the green lightsaber saved her. He leapt in to finish her off, blocking his companion from doing the same. Against his pedestrian assault she was able to regain her feet and slide into the sequence of moves that were the foundation of her virtually impenetrable style.
There was a brief instant when she saw an opening—but rather than choose to kill the man with the green lightsaber she let him live, knowing he was a greater hindrance to his allies than he was to her.
From across the room one of the other Jedi called out, “Johun! Sarro! We need reinforcements!”
“Go,” the big man shouted. “I can handle this one.”
And suddenly the man with the green lightsaber was gone.
The olive-skinned giant reared up to his full height; Zannah realized he was even taller and more heavily muscled than Bane. The air sizzled as his long lightsaber carved an elaborate flourish around his body, then another above his head. He smiled down at her knowingly.
Then he leapt forward and the real battle began.
It had been many years since Farfalla had fought while empowered by Worror’s battle meditation. He had forgotten how much quicker and stronger the Ithorian’s amazing talent made him feel. The Force flowed through him with greater power, filling him with its might. Yet even with their enhanced abilities, he wondered if they would survive the coming battle.
As they burst into the room a man who could only have been Darth Bane charged recklessly toward them. In any other instance the move would