Star Wars_ Darth Bane 02_ Rule of Two - Drew Karpyshyn [120]
Instead of arcing across the room to destroy the one-armed Jedi, the lightning that flew from Bane’s fingers reflected off the inside of the shimmering blue globe encasing him. The bolts ricocheted around wildly inside the globe, creating a storm of energy so intense that Zannah had to shield her eyes and look away. She heard Bane’s scream rising above the sharp crackle of electricity, and when she looked back she saw the globe vanish and her Master fall to the ground in a charred and smoking heap.
She started to run to him, then saw that the sole surviving Jedi was crawling toward where his lightsaber had fallen on the ground, determined to fight on despite the loss of his hand.
Her face frozen in a mask of rage and hatred, she stepped forward and spun her lightsaber above her head. He looked at her with pleading eyes, but her only response was to bring her blade crashing down, ending his life.
22
When Zannah first reached Bane’s side, she was sure her Master was dead. The lightning had reduced his clothes to ash, and his gloves and boots had melted away. The flesh of his face and hands was charred and burned, covered with blisters that oozed a runny yellow pus. Several of the parasites on his chest and stomach hadn’t survived, their brown shells turned black and brittle by the lightning’s electrical charge. Wisps of still-smoldering smoke crept out from beneath their shells, bringing with it a sickly stench that made Zannah’s stomach churn.
Then she saw Bane’s chest rise and fall, his breaths so shallow and faint she had almost missed them. He must have slipped into unconsciousness as his body went into shock from the unbearable pain. She paused, half expecting to see his seared skin and tissue begin to regenerate, but his injuries exceeded even the ability of the orbalisks to heal him, and nothing happened.
The sound of a door opening made her turn her head, glancing up to see Darovit emerging from his hiding place. He looked around at the carnage in the room, then saw Zannah crouched over her Master.
“Is he …?” He left the question hanging in the air.
“He’s alive,” she said angrily, rising to her feet.
Darovit slowly walked over to her side, cradling Belia’s Holocron and the datacard against his sternum with his good hand. Zannah reached out and snatched them away when he drew close. He didn’t seem to notice, his eyes transfixed by the charred husk at her feet that was somehow still alive.
“Get the lightsabers,” she commanded. “We’re leaving.”
Darovit had the good sense not to question her orders, but went to gather the weapons of the fallen Jedi: trophies of the Sith triumph on Tython.
Zannah stuffed the Holocron and datacard away in the pockets of her clothing, then took a deep breath to focus her mind. She reached out with the Force and lifted Bane’s body off the ground, levitating it at waist height.
She carried her Master this way from the fortress and outside, Darovit following closely behind her. She briefly considered which ship they should use to take them from Tython, then settled on the Loranda. In addition to being larger, it was also equipped with a full medical bay.
“Open the cargo bay,” she ordered, nodding her head in the direction of the vessel.
Darovit raced ahead and did as she instructed, while Zannah slowly lifted her Master up and into the ship.
Once aboard they hooked Bane up to a bacta pump. His injuries probably required complete submersion in a bacta tank for several days, but she didn’t have access to those kind of facilities. A bacta pump was the next best thing; it injected a heavy dose of the fluid directly into his veins, circulating it through the body, then filtering it out, only to repeat the process.
“He’s stable,” Darovit said. “But he won’t be for long. When an orbalisk dies it poisons the host.”
“You read the information on the disk,” she said. “Get them off him.”
“Even if I did it wouldn’t help,” Darovit told her, relaying what he had learned from the disk.