And there was an even greater possibility. Bane knew fate was not preordained. There were many possible futures, and the Force allowed her to see only examples of what might be. If she could learn to sort through her visions, separating out the various divergent timelines, was it possible she could actually control them, too? Could she one day have the power to alter the future simply by thinking about it? Could she use the power of the Force to shape the very fabric of existence and make her chosen visions become reality?
“In the hangar you said you were waiting for me,” Bane noted, anxious to get a better understanding of her talent. “Your visions told you I was coming?”
“Not exactly. I had a sense of … something. I could feel the significance of the moment, though I didn’t know what would happen. My instincts told me it would be to my benefit to wait.”
Bane nodded. “Are your instincts ever wrong?”
“Rarely.”
“Is that why we’re here on Ambria? Your visions—your instincts—told you Caleb’s daughter would come here?”
“The princess met me here when she hired me to find you,” the assassin replied. “This place haunts her. I didn’t need a vision to know this was where she would run.”
The Dark Lord smiled. She was smart as well as powerful.
A few minutes later the ship touched down on the edge of Caleb’s camp, landing beside a small escape shuttle.
Disembarking from the craft, Bane was reminded of the power trapped within Ambria’s surface. The Force had once devastated this world before its power was trapped by an ancient Jedi Master in the depths of Lake Natth. Now the planet was a nexus of both dark and light-side power.
He noticed a freshly dug grave a few meters off to one side, but he didn’t give it a second glance. The dead were of no consequence to him.
With long, purposeful steps he made his way across the camp toward the dilapidated shack. The Huntress followed at his side, matching him stride for stride.
Before he reached his destination, however, the princess emerged from the hut to confront him. She was unarmed and alone, but unlike their last meeting in the prison cell, he didn’t sense any fear in her this time. There was a sense of serenity about her, a tranquillity that reminded Bane of his first meeting with her father.
Bane’s own mood had changed as well. He was no longer driven by an unquenchable desire for bloody vengeance. In the Stone Prison he had needed to draw strength from his anger to survive and defeat his enemies. Here, however, he was in no danger. Afforded the luxury of careful consideration, he had realized that there was no need to kill her … not if he could make use of her skills.
They stood face-to-face, staring at each other, neither speaking. In the end, it was Serra who broke the silence.
“Did you see the grave when you landed? I buried Lucia there last night.”
When Bane didn’t respond, she slowly reached up and wiped a single tear away from her eye before continuing.
“She saved your life. Don’t you even care that she’s dead?”
“The dead have no value to the living,” he told her.
“She was your friend.”
“Whatever she was is gone. Now she is nothing but decaying flesh and bone.”
“She didn’t deserve this. Her death was … pointless.”
“Your father’s death was pointless,” Bane said. “He had a valuable skill; twice he saved my life when no other could have healed me. Had it been my choice I would have left him alive in case I ever needed his services a third time.”
“He would have never helped you by choice,” Serra countered. There was no anger in her voice, though her words had the steely ring of truth.
“But he did help me,” Bane reminded her. “He was useful. I could have a use for you as well, if you share his talent.”
“My father taught me everything he knew,” she admitted. “But, like him, I will never help a monster like you.”
She turned to address the Iktotchi standing silently by Bane’s side.
“If you follow this man he will destroy you,” she warned. “I’ve seen the rewards given to those who walk the path of the dark side.”
“The dark side will give me power,” the Huntress replied confidently. “It will guide me to my destiny.”
“Only a fool believes that,” the princess replied. “Look at me. I gave in to my hate. I let it consume me. My desire for revenge cost me everything and everyone I care about.”
“The dark side will devour those who lack the power to control it,” Bane agreed. “It’s a fierce storm of emotion that annihilates anything in its path. It lays waste to the weak and unworthy.
“But those who are strong,” he added, “can ride the storm winds to unfathomable heights. They can unlock their true potential; they can sever the chains that bind them; they can dominate the world around them. Only those with the power to control the dark side can ever truly be free.”
“No,” Serra replied, gently shaking her head. “I don’t believe that. The dark side is evil. You are evil. And I will never serve you.”
There was a quiet defiance in her words, and Bane sensed nothing he could say or do would ever persuade her. For a brief moment he considered attempting the ritual of essence transfer, then quickly dismissed the idea. The ritual would consume his physical form, and if he failed to possess her body his spirit would be trapped forever in the void. Her will was as strong as her father’s, and he didn’t know if he was powerful enough to overcome it.
He didn’t need to do this now. He still had several years before his current body failed completely. It was better to wait and try to find a technician to create a clone body. That, or find someone younger and more innocent.
“She is of no use to us, Master,” the Iktotchi noted, an eager gleam in her eye. “May I kill her for you?”
He nodded, and the Huntress stepped forward, advancing slowly on the other woman. Bane sensed the assassin liked to savor the kill, reveling in the fear and pain of her victims. But Serra made no move to defend herself. She didn’t try to run, or beg for mercy. Instead, she stood perfectly still, willing to meet her fate with mute acceptance.
Recognizing she would get no satisfaction from Caleb’s daughter, the assassin ended Serra’s life.
25
Zannah’s fingers hesitated over the Victory’s nav panel as she pondered her next destination. Ever since escaping the Stone Prison, she had kept the shuttle in a low-level orbit around Doan.
She didn’t want to go back to Ciutric. Bane was still alive and she needed to find him, but she didn’t think he’d be returning to their home anytime soon.
For a time she had considered heading to Set’s estate on Nar Shaddaa. If he was dead, he certainly couldn’t object if she used his place as a temporary base while she set out to hunt down her Master. And if he happened to be there when she arrived—if he had somehow escaped the dungeon’s collapse—then Zannah had plenty of questions for him.
However, the more she thought about confronting the man she had chosen as her apprentice, the less the idea appealed to her. Looking back, it was clear to her that Set had been a mistake. Overeager to assume the role of Dark Lord, she had convinced herself that he was an acceptable choice. Desperate to find an apprentice of her own, she had ignored his obvious flaws.
Set was a dangerous man—one she suspected she might have to deal with later on if she discovered he was still alive—but he wasn’t fit to be a Sith. His affinity for the Force was strong, and he willingly embraced many of the dark side’s more self-serving aspects. But he lacked discipline. He was consumed by worldly wants and desires that clouded his greater vision. Worst of all, he clearly lacked ambition.
Zannah had lured him into her service with a combination of threats to his life and promises of power. But she had been deceiving herself as much as Set. It was obvious he had no real desire to rule the galaxy. He was content with his lot in life, and was unwilling to make the sacrifices necessary to turn him
self into something more. And for some reason, she had been unable to see it. Maybe she was afraid to look. Maybe Set reminded her too much of herself.
The words Bane had thrown at her when she accused him of violating the Rule of Two still rang in her mind.
I waited years for you to challenge me. But you were content to toil in my shadow.
Was he right? Was it possible that on some level she was afraid of taking on the responsibility of Sith Master? No. She had tried to kill him.
Tried and failed, even though Bane didn’t have his lightsaber. Was it possible she hadn’t really been trying to beat him? Had some small part of her subconscious mind held her back just enough so that Bane could survive until he saw his chance to escape?
No. That’s what he wants me to think.
Bane’s words had been a ploy. He was trying to undermine her confidence, looking for any edge that would let him survive. But he was wrong. Zannah had truly wanted to kill him in the halls of the dungeon. And yet somehow he still managed to live.
Zannah was forced to admit that there was another, even more disturbing, possibility. Was Bane simply stronger than she was? If she couldn’t defeat him when he was unarmed, what chance would she have once he reclaimed his lightsaber?
No. That didn’t make sense, either. Bane may have escaped with his life, but her Master did not win that battle. Her lightsaber had given her a huge advantage; it had forced Bane to be on the defensive. So why hadn’t she been able to finish him?
She had obviously made a tactical error. But what was it?
The question gnawed at her as she sat back in her seat and crossed her arms, the nav computer still awaiting its next destination. She bit down on her lip, concentrating. The answer was there; she just had to figure it out.
In her mind she replayed the scenario, analyzing it over and over again. She had been patient, careful. Because of this her Master had been able to keep her at bay despite her advantage. But if she had been more aggressive during the duel, she would have opened herself up to a potentially lethal counterattack.
Was that the answer? Did she have to risk defeat to claim victory?
Zannah shook her head. That wasn’t it. Bane had taught her that risk should always be minimized. Gambles relied on luck. Take enough chances and sooner or later luck will turn against you, even with the Force on your side.
And then it came to her. She had tried to defeat him using brute force; she had fought the battle on his terms.
She would never be Bane’s equal in physical strength. He would always be superior to her in martial skill. So why had she tried to defeat him in lightsaber combat, when her true talents lay elsewhere?
She had fallen into his trap. He had pretended to have a weapon, knowing she would see through his bluff. Bane had wanted her to focus on his missing lightsaber above all else. He was goading her into battle.
Using her lightsaber to defeat an unarmed opponent was the simplest, most obvious path to victory … one Bane had expertly led her down. But the most obvious path was rarely the best one.
Bane didn’t fear her blades. There was only one thing she possessed that he was wary of: Sith sorcery. Zannah could do things with the Force that Bane couldn’t even attempt. She could attack the minds of her opponents, turning their own thoughts and dreams against them.
During her apprenticeship, Bane had encouraged her in her studies of the magical arts. He had given her ancient texts filled with arcane rituals, urging her to expand her knowledge and push the boundaries of her talent. He had directed her training so that she could achieve her full potential. But he did not realize just how far she had come.
In addition to the tomes her Master had provided, Zannah had sought out her own sources of hidden Sith knowledge over the years. Practicing in secret, she had progressed far beyond Bane’s expectations, learning new spells to unleash the dark side in ways he had never even imagined.
Next time we meet, Master, I will show you just how powerful I have become.
She had a feeling that meeting would be soon. Bane was out there, somewhere. Plotting and planning for their next encounter. If she didn’t find him soon, Zannah knew, then he would find her.
Night was falling by the time the Huntress returned to the camp. Bane had ordered her to bury Serra’s body—not out of a sense of respect or honor, but simply to keep away scavengers and remove the corpse before it began to decay. To her credit, the Iktotchi hadn’t protested or questioned his command: she either understood the need or trusted his judgment.
While she was gone, Bane had collected kindling from a small woodpile at the back of the hut and started a fire to ward off the chill. The Iktotchi now stood before him, the glow of the flames transforming her red skin to a bright, sinister orange.
“You said you want me to teach you,” he noted, crouching down to stir the fire with a stick. He held it in his left hand, his grip tight to keep the tremor from returning.
“I want to learn the ways of the Sith.”
“If you are to become my apprentice, you must cast away the chains of your old life. You must sever all ties to family and friends.”
“I have none.”
“You will not be able to return to your home; you must be willing to leave behind all your worldly possessions.”
“Wealth and material goods mean nothing to me,” she replied. “I crave only power and purpose. With power, anything you want or need can simply be taken. With purpose, your life has meaning.”
Bane nodded approvingly, stirring the fire once more before continuing.
“If you become my apprentice, who you were will cease to exist. You must be reborn in the ways of the dark side.”
“I’m ready, my lord.” There was no mistaking the eagerness in her voice.
“Then choose a new name for yourself, as a symbol of your new and greater existence.”
“Cognus,” she said after a moment’s consideration.
Bane was impressed. She understood that power rested not in her blades or her bloodlust, but in her knowledge, wisdom, and ability to see the future.
“A good name,” he said, setting the stick down and rising to his full height. As he did so, the Iktotchi dropped to one knee before him and bowed her head.
“From this day forward you are Darth Cognus of the Sith,” he said.
“I am ready to begin my training,” Cognus replied, still down on one knee before him.
“Not yet,” he said, walking past her and heading to the shuttles on the far side of the camp. “There is still one important matter to take care of.”
Cognus jumped up to follow him. “Your old apprentice,” she guessed.
Or was it a guess?
Bane stopped and turned back toward her. “Have you seen what will happen between me and my apprentice?”
“Ever since I came to this world to meet the princess I have dreamed of you both,” Cognus admitted. “But the meaning is unclear.”
“Tell me what you’ve seen,” Bane ordered.
“The details are always changing. Different locations, different worlds, different times of the day or night. At times I see her dead at your feet, other times she is the victor.
“I have tried to make sense of it, but there are too many contradictions.”
“The future of the Sith is precariously balanced between Zannah and myself,” Bane explained. “Whoever survives our confrontation will control the destiny of the Sith, but our strength is too evenly matched for you to foresee the outcome.”
The Iktotchi didn’t reply, pondering his words in silence.
Bane left her alone to think on her first lesson, continuing on to her vessel. He passed the twin graves without a second glance.
Climbing inside the shuttle, he set the commtransmitter to the frequency of Zannah’s personal shuttle and sent out a coded distress signal.
Zannah had drifted off into a restless sleep, only to be awakened by a slow, steady beep from her control console. Examining the source, she saw i
t was a long-range distress call. Instead of being broadcast across multiple band lengths, however, this one was coming in on the Victory’s private channel. Only one person besides her knew that frequency.
Curious, she decoded the message. It comprised only four words: Ambria. The healer’s camp.
Her first thought was that Bane was setting a trap for her, trying to lure her in. But the more she thought about it, the less likely that seemed. It was obvious who the message was from. If he was setting a trap, why reveal himself like this when it would only put her on her guard?
Maybe he just wanted this to end. Before drifting off to sleep, Zannah had been thinking about what he said to her before their confrontation in the halls of the Stone Prison.
Only the strongest has the right to rule the Sith! The title of Dark Lord must be seized, wrenched from the all-powerful grasp of the Master!
If Bane still believed in the Rule of Two—if he still believed it was the key to the survival and eventual dominance of the Sith—then this message was a challenge, an invitation to his apprentice to come to Ambria and end what they had begun in the Stone Prison.
She had to admit, it was better than wasting years chasing each other across the galaxy, setting traps and plotting each other’s destruction. Bane had reinvented the Sith so that their resources and efforts would be focused against their enemies rather than each other. When the apprentice challenged the Master it was meant to be decided in a single confrontation: quick, clean, and final.
Now, however, the Order had been fractured. They were no longer Master and apprentice, but competing rivals for the mantle of Sith Lord. They were effectively at war, and as long as they both lived, the Sith would be divided. Was it so hard to believe that, for the sake of the Order, Bane wanted to end it with a duel on Ambria? If Bane still honored the Rule he had created, then the message could be taken at face value.
But what about Andeddu’s Holocron?
She had initially thought he was seeking eternal life so that he could defy the Rule of Two by living forever. Now she wasn’t so certain. Would immortality really be a violation of the Rule’s underlying principles? The secrets inside the Holocron might keep Bane from aging, but she didn’t think they could protect him from falling in battle. If she was strong enough to defeat him, she would still earn her place as Master, just as Bane had intended when he first found her as a young girl on Ruusan.