Star Wars_ The Old Republic_ Revan - Drew Karpyshyn [125]
“Into the throne room!” he shouted, rushing forward.
One of the guards battling Meetra broke off and tried to cut Revan off. The Jedi gathered himself and leapt high in the air, tucking his knees in tight to somersault over his opponent. The guard reacted to the unexpected move a fraction too slowly, his electrostaff slicing through the air above his head and missing Revan by only a few centimeters.
Revan landed on the ground and wheeled around to face the other man. He thrust out with the Force, the impact hitting the soldier square in the chest. Instead of sending him flying, it only staggered him back half a step—this close to the Emperor they were sworn to protect, the guards were able to draw on his power to protect themselves.
Still, the slight stumble gave Revan enough time to draw his lightsaber and go on the offensive. He came in with a high, overhand chop—an obvious feint meant to draw the defenses of his opponent upward, leaving his legs exposed to a quick follow-up strike.
The guard recognized the familiar ploy, countering it by parrying the overhand chop then quickly dropping his blade low to intercept the inevitable slash at his legs. Only Revan didn’t go for his legs. Anticipating that his opponent’s defenses would go low, he kept his blade up high, allowing him to end the battle with a horizontal cut across the man’s suddenly exposed throat.
T3 had followed him into the throne room, but Meetra and Scourge were still locked in battle with the guards in the hall outside. They were waging a fighting retreat; they had maneuvered themselves so they could back into the throne room while keeping the guards at bay.
At the far end of the hall, another half a dozen of the Imperial Guard rounded the corner. Revan reached out with the Force and ripped the vaulted stone archway in the ceiling above them free from its setting. A shower of dust and debris rained down on the reinforcements, sending them into temporary retreat.
It wasn’t enough to block the passage, but it did buy Scourge and Meetra a few precious seconds to complete their retreat into the chamber. They crossed the threshold, still engaged with Captain Yarri and the three surviving Imperial Guard that had escorted them to the throne room.
Revan reached out with the Force and slammed the durasteel doors shut, the clang echoing loudly in the throne room.
“Seal the doors!” he shouted at T3. Then he turned his attention to the other end of the throne room.
The Emperor was seated on his throne, watching the proceedings with cold detachment. Revan felt the same chill he had experienced the last time he had come into the Emperor’s presence, the physical manifestation of his enemy’s malevolent power.
“I did not expect you to return,” the Emperor said, rising to his feet.
Revan didn’t bother to reply as he charged forward.
SCOURGE WAS AN EXPERT SWORDSMAN; at the Academy even the instructors had been reluctant to face him in the training ring. When the dark side flowed through him, his blade was more than a weapon. It became an extension of his will.
Captain Yarri’s skill with her electrostaff was impressive, but ultimately she was no match for a Sith Lord. Knowing this, she had wisely adopted a defensive style to hold off the first few flurries of Scourge’s attack, her focus on stalling him long enough for one of her companions to join the fray before switching to a more aggressive form.
Now Scourge was forced to defend himself on two fronts as he backed into the throne room. In his peripheral vision he saw that Meetra was in a similar situation, retreating while battling a pair of enemies.
The fact that Revan hadn’t come to their aid told Scourge that the Jedi had gone to confront the Emperor, conjuring up images from Scourge’s vision of him lying broken and beaten on the floor at the Emperor’s feet.
Yarri’s staff slipped through his defenses and clipped him on his right shoulder. Scourge’s armor