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Ben stepped gladly out of the shadows into the sunlight, feeble as it was, as they moved on to the next tomb.

“Dad,” he ventured, “I’m starting to think we’re going to come up empty-handed.”

“I think Ben’s right,” Jaina said. “So far, we’ve found zilch. This is starting to feel like one big waste of time.”

“Korriban is but one of many places with Sith history,” Luke reminded them. “It was a good idea to start looking here, but I agree that it’s looking more and more like we’re hunting in the wrong place.” He glanced meaningfully over at Vestara, who by either accident or design missed the look. “If we—”

The sudden surge in dark-side energy crashed on them like an unexpected wave. Anger, outrage, hatred, and murderous intent buffeted them. The feeling in the Force was echoed by a hair-raising howling sound that seemed to come from all directions at once.

The shadows cast by the looming figures of beings long dead seemed to come to life, but Ben realized almost immediately what the dark, uncannily fast creatures with glowing red eyes, three rows of teeth from which droplets of slaver fell, and strange wing-like extensions, had to be.

They had disturbed the guardians of the tombs, who were now descending, more than a dozen of them, with a single, driving thought: Kill the intruders.

And the Sith hounds would. Ben realized that almost at once. There were simply too many of them, and they were too strong with the dark side of the Force.

Ben had faced death before, and a peculiar calmness descended on him. He lifted his lightsaber, fixed his gaze with that of the leader, and prepared to slay as many of them as he could before the inevitable. The sudden, absurd thought came to him that they were much, much bigger than he had expected them to be.

What happened next stunned him.

Instead of lifting her lightsaber to do battle, Vestara extinguished the red blade. To Ben’s shock, she began to run.

Toward the dark blue and black wave of tuk’ata.

Her brown hair flying, Vestara lifted her hand and cried out a single word, sharply.

“Ur-kaa!”

The creatures skidded to a halt almost as if physically struck by the word, one of them falling gracelessly over its own feet as it tried to stop too quickly.

“Vestara, what—?” began Ben. She shot him a sharp look of warning, and he fell silent, glancing over at his dad and Jaina. They, too, had paused, like the tuk’ata, but were ready to spring into action in a heartbeat.

Slowly, their glowing red eyes fixed on Vestara, the Sith hounds sat, obedient, but only for this moment. Their tongues lolled, dripping, and their pseudo-wings flexed and strained.

Vestara continued to speak to them in the strange language. “Haa, neyo la yud masur kee, tah uhnah kahru lur shu.” They listened, ears pricked forward even as their baleful eyes flickered from her to fasten hungrily and hatefully upon the Jedi. When she had finished saying … whatever it was she was saying … they grew highly agitated. Then, to Ben’s astonishment, the tuk’ata pack cringed back, as if expecting a blow.

Vestara again spoke, still more firmly, more challengingly, projecting her strength in the Force.

“Na-hah ur su ka-haat. Su ka haru aat.” The dogs, for such they looked like now, if huge and impossibly dangerous, positively prostrated themselves, whimpering and shaking. Vestara paused for a moment, and then said something in a calmer, kinder voice.

“Eyah seh maat, shu kor huaan.” The tuk’ata leapt up and pranced around her, fawning on her, and then turned as one and raced off. Vestara lowered her hand, and Ben saw that despite her assertive stance, that hand was trembling slightly.

“What did you do?” he asked, stunned.

“I talked to them,” she said. With a barely visible effort, she calmed herself and her hand ceased to shake. “Jaina said earlier that the tuk’ata understood the Sith language. They exist to serve and protect the Sith, so … I told them to lead them to us if there were any here.” She met his