had watched the encounter unfold as if paralyzed, not even bothering to undo the buckle of his safety harness.
“Don’t kill me!” he begged, squirming beneath the chair’s restraints.
She could actually sense the fear emanating from him. She felt the familiar heat of the dark side flare to life within her, responding to the plight of her victim, feeding itself on his terror. It flowed through her like a wave of liquid fire, burning away her guilt and uncertainty and strengthening her resolve.
Zannah’s mind was filled with a great and sudden realization: fear and pain were an inevitable part of existence. And it was far better to inflict them on others than to suffer them herself.
“Please don’t shoot,” Wend whimpered, making one last plea for his life. “I’m just a kid. Like you.”
“I’m not a kid,” Zannah said as she pulled the trigger. “I’m a Sith.”
7
B ane could hear the whine of the Valcyn ’s engines as the ship sliced through the upper layers of Dxun’s atmosphere, protesting as he pushed the vessel to her very limits. Normally the trip from Ruusan to Onderon’s oversized moon would have taken a T-class cruiser like the Valcyn between four and five days. Bane had covered the distance in just over two.
Within hours of leaving Ruusan—and Zannah—behind, he had been cursed with the return of the almost unbearable headaches. And with them had come an unwanted and most unwelcome companion. The spectral shade of Lord Kaan loomed over him in the cockpit for the entire first day of the trip, a visible manifestation of the damage Bane’s mind had suffered from the thought bomb. The spirit never spoke, merely watched him with its accusatory gaze, a constant presence on the edges of Bane’s awareness.
The ghostly apparition had driven Bane to adopt an irresponsible, even dangerous, pace for the journey. He had pushed the Valcyn far beyond the recommended safety parameters, as if part of him was trying to use the speed of the ship to outrun his own madness. He was desperate to reach Dxun so he could find the tomb of Freedon Nadd and hopefully discover some way to rid himself of the torturous hallucinations.
Kaan had disappeared toward the end of the first dayof his journey, only to be replaced by an even worse visitation. It wasn’t the founder of the Brotherhood of Darkness that hovered beside him now, but Qordis—the former head of the Sith Academy on Korriban. Pale and semi-translucent, the figure was otherwise an almost perfect replica of what the Sith Lord had looked like at the time of their final meeting, when Bane had killed him. Tall and gaunt, Qordis had skeletal features that seemed more at home on a spirit than they ever had on a being of flesh and blood. Unlike Kaan, however, Qordis actually spoke to him, spewing forth an endless litany of blame, denouncing everything Bane had accomplished.
“You betrayed us,” the phantom said, extending a long, thin finger topped with a talonlike nail. Bane didn’t need to look at it to know the finger would be adorned with the heavy bejeweled rings Qordis had worn in life. “You destroyed the Brotherhood, you brought victory to the Jedi. And now you flee the scene like a craven thief in the night.”
I’m not a coward! Bane thought. There was no point in voicing the words aloud; the vision was all in his mind. Speaking with it would only be a sign that his mental condition was further deteriorating. I did what had to be done. The Brotherhood was an abomination. They had to be destroyed!
“The Brotherhood had knowledge of the dark side. Wisdom that is lost forever because of you.”
Bane was growing weary of the all-too-familiar refrain. He’d had this conversation with himself before he decided to destroy Kaan and his followers, and now he was reliving it again and again through the delusions of his wounded mind. Yet he refused to allow any doubts or uncertainties to weaken his resolve; he had done what was necessary.
The
“Don’t kill me!” he begged, squirming beneath the chair’s restraints.
She could actually sense the fear emanating from him. She felt the familiar heat of the dark side flare to life within her, responding to the plight of her victim, feeding itself on his terror. It flowed through her like a wave of liquid fire, burning away her guilt and uncertainty and strengthening her resolve.
Zannah’s mind was filled with a great and sudden realization: fear and pain were an inevitable part of existence. And it was far better to inflict them on others than to suffer them herself.
“Please don’t shoot,” Wend whimpered, making one last plea for his life. “I’m just a kid. Like you.”
“I’m not a kid,” Zannah said as she pulled the trigger. “I’m a Sith.”
7
B ane could hear the whine of the Valcyn ’s engines as the ship sliced through the upper layers of Dxun’s atmosphere, protesting as he pushed the vessel to her very limits. Normally the trip from Ruusan to Onderon’s oversized moon would have taken a T-class cruiser like the Valcyn between four and five days. Bane had covered the distance in just over two.
Within hours of leaving Ruusan—and Zannah—behind, he had been cursed with the return of the almost unbearable headaches. And with them had come an unwanted and most unwelcome companion. The spectral shade of Lord Kaan loomed over him in the cockpit for the entire first day of the trip, a visible manifestation of the damage Bane’s mind had suffered from the thought bomb. The spirit never spoke, merely watched him with its accusatory gaze, a constant presence on the edges of Bane’s awareness.
The ghostly apparition had driven Bane to adopt an irresponsible, even dangerous, pace for the journey. He had pushed the Valcyn far beyond the recommended safety parameters, as if part of him was trying to use the speed of the ship to outrun his own madness. He was desperate to reach Dxun so he could find the tomb of Freedon Nadd and hopefully discover some way to rid himself of the torturous hallucinations.
Kaan had disappeared toward the end of the first dayof his journey, only to be replaced by an even worse visitation. It wasn’t the founder of the Brotherhood of Darkness that hovered beside him now, but Qordis—the former head of the Sith Academy on Korriban. Pale and semi-translucent, the figure was otherwise an almost perfect replica of what the Sith Lord had looked like at the time of their final meeting, when Bane had killed him. Tall and gaunt, Qordis had skeletal features that seemed more at home on a spirit than they ever had on a being of flesh and blood. Unlike Kaan, however, Qordis actually spoke to him, spewing forth an endless litany of blame, denouncing everything Bane had accomplished.
“You betrayed us,” the phantom said, extending a long, thin finger topped with a talonlike nail. Bane didn’t need to look at it to know the finger would be adorned with the heavy bejeweled rings Qordis had worn in life. “You destroyed the Brotherhood, you brought victory to the Jedi. And now you flee the scene like a craven thief in the night.”
I’m not a coward! Bane thought. There was no point in voicing the words aloud; the vision was all in his mind. Speaking with it would only be a sign that his mental condition was further deteriorating. I did what had to be done. The Brotherhood was an abomination. They had to be destroyed!
“The Brotherhood had knowledge of the dark side. Wisdom that is lost forever because of you.”
Bane was growing weary of the all-too-familiar refrain. He’d had this conversation with himself before he decided to destroy Kaan and his followers, and now he was reliving it again and again through the delusions of his wounded mind. Yet he refused to allow any doubts or uncertainties to weaken his resolve; he had done what was necessary.
The
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