F E A T U R E D S T O R Y
DJK Voranyen (Krath)/Aedile/House Arbroath
Krath Story Contest #3, "The Price of Being an Adept of the Dark Side"
200 Years Before
the Fall of the Old Republic-
He was alone, the last of his people. The
others were long dead, some in battle, but most by execution. The Republic had been
ruthless in hunting him down, and had destroyed his once proud house simply to flush him
out, but Trynt Lyre hadn’t been found yet. He raised his head to the rain in the
forest, knowing today could be his last. "Hein," he said softly to his droid
servant, "have you received anything from the satellites yet?"
Rusted gears whirred. "Rep--lic s-s-ships --- in
orb-bit o-ffff Luuuuuuuuuuurrrrrr. No signssss o-of m-m-movem-m-ment sssssinccccee
y-yessssterday," the droid choked out. Years spent hiding from civilization had
caused Hein to suffer severe mechanical failure. It was all he could do to stutter phrases
from his vocorder now.
"Thank you, Hein," Lyre said. Lyre was
mainbreed human. He was tall and once was strongly built. Age would have made him noble,
but for the ravaging of the dark side. Patchy skin now clung to his gaunt frame. Hiding
out was not his first choice, but it would have been impossible for him to fit into
mainstream society after his time as a Dark Jedi. Imposing himself on another group of
Jedi was also out; his house was not well-loved by any, and it wouldn’t have
surprised anyone if Lyre had been killed outright because of the power he once wielded
like an axe. He was a master of the Dark side and lead his house well, until the Republic
took notice of his might. It was not long afterwards that the house crumbled under
constant attacks from outside, attacks which had forced him to flee. Lyre had almost
forgotten himself how long he had been hiding in the mountains of Lur- at least twenty
years. He turned and stomped back into the small cave he had made his home. "How far
to the nearest settlement, Hein?"
"Twwwentyyyy k-kilomeeeeeetttterrrs t-to
G-ghassssek, L-lord L-lyyyyyre."
"Is there a spaceport there?" Lyre had begun to
stuff clothing and supplies into a large backpack. These included a glowrod, several spare
power packs, a small portable stove, and rations. Last of all he clipped his lightsaber to
his belt and threw his cloak on.
"Yessssss, ssssssirr."
"Well then it’s time we parted," Lyre said
gruffly. He opened up a maintenance panel and placed a small device in. "The next
time a sentient life form enters the cave, you are to activate this device
immediately." Lyre had placed a thermal detonator in, a relic from his early days as
a bounty hunter.
"Asss youu c-c-command, sssssiirr," Hein said
without questioning. Lyre nodded and walked out of the cave, using his compass to find the
direction of Ghasek.
"Hmmm, 20 klicks. That’ll take a couple
days," he muttered to himself as he started off towards the town which he had arrived
at so many years ago.
Midway through the day Lyre heard the drone of sublight
engines above his head. He wasn’t worried though; it was nearly impossible for him to
be spotted. Lur had been chosen for a specific reason. Pine forests covered the surface
and it was constantly raining or snowing, so that he couldn’t be seen by visual
scanners. Atmospheric disturbances and high metal content underground made sensors
unreliable at best. On instinct he froze beneath the boughs of a large tree. Lyre remained
there until the sound of engines faded into the distance. He then reshouldered his pack
and walked onwards. Less than an hour later a tremendous explosion echoed throughout the
mountain range, but Trynt Lyre wasn’t surprised at all. He grinned to himself as he
began to run, knowing that Republic forces would be hunting for him in no time.
"Was he in there?" asked the Republic
commander.
"No, Commander Weir, as far as I can tell the
explosion was automated," said Fenre D’lik, Jedi Knight, as he moved from the
wreckage of the cave.
"How can you tell?" asked one of the ensigns.
"If he had been in there the damage would’ve
been much worse. A Jedi of that power would release huge amounts of energy when he died.
Besides, the area around a Dark Jedi’s death remains tainted with the Dark side for
good." D’lik moved to examine the wreckage of the first shuttle. "Were
there any survivors of the first team, Commander?"
"We found three bodies in the wreckage of the
shuttle. There’s no sign of the other two. We assume they were vaporized by the
explosion in the cave."
"Who did we lose?" said D’lik, moving to
examine the bodies in the shuttle wreckage.
"Three rangers, an acolyte, and Jedi Sairr. The
rangers are the ones in the wreckage," said the Weir after hesitating a moment.
"Then we really don’t know what happened to
Sairr and the acolyte, do we?" said D’lik hopefully.
"Sir, at best there’s only one of them left,
since one had to be there to set it off. There’s no way we can find out who without
calling in a survey team from the nearest outpost."
D’lik nodded. "Lyre could be anywhere between
five and ten kilometers from here, probably ten. He won’t need to stop and rest. I
suggest you place half the main force in Ghasek, and a company in each of the settlements
on the continent."
"On the entire continent? Isn’t that a little
too cautious?" asked the commander incredulously.
The Jedi turned and stared at him for several long
seconds before speaking. "We wouldn’t want him to get away, would we? Of course,
it’s entirely your choice, but if he second-guessed us and went to a different
settlement than Ghasek and the surrounding towns, then whose fault would it be?"
The commander gulped. "Of course, sir."
"And get the hunting teams down here, too."
Each hunting team consisted of one Jedi Knight, one Force-sensitive, and anywhere from
three to twelve elite rangers, depending upon the power of the target. The commander had
four- three now that the first had been taken out- teams at his command, and each would
have a full squad of twelve rangers with them. The first team hadn’t been at full
strength because Lyre wasn’t expected to still be in the cave.
"As ordered, sir."
"Nothing is ordered, commander, only
requested," said D’lik softly. Weir nodded hesitantly and spoke into his comlink
quietly.
"The teams have already been prepared. They’ll
arrive here in about half an hour. I ordered some trackers along as well," said Weir
after a brief conversation over the comlink.
"Trackers are useless. He won’t have left
tracks that can be found by someone who doesn’t know what they’re looking for,
and believe me, the trackers won’t."
"It won’t hurt to have them along, sir."
"No, sir, it’ll just get them in the way and
probably shot and I’m sure that wouldn’t hurt us in the least," said
the ensign sarcastically. Discipline was quite low in most Jedi task forces.
Before the commander could begin to yell D’lik said,
"My point exactly. Leave the trackers on board the ship." As usual, the
commander obeyed without question. "I can get a general direction and the teams can
split up and follow Lyre," said D’lik.
"It doesn’t really matter. The teams left about
five minutes ago," mentioned the ensign.
The commander shrugged and said, "They left as soon
as I ended communications."
"Very well, commander, we’ll organize them into
a fifth team," D’lik remarked. He then brought his face close to Weir’s.
"And you can have the honor of leading them against the big, nasty Jedi. Don’t
be surprised if you find that he’s too much for your glorious trackers," he
whispered with an ominous expression on his face.
Lyre had been running for an hour when he heard the whine
of speeder bikes. He had been cursing himself for the last three kilometers for not having
brought a speeder to the cave himself. He quickly reached out with the force to count his
pursuers. "Fourteen. I’m flattered," he muttered to himself. Most Dark Jedi
only had about five rangers after them. Lyre could only hope that the Jedi’s escort
didn’t consist of Barabels, who were known for their ferociousness and reverence for
the Jedi. Barabels had a tendency to beg for the positions of rangers in a Jedi task
force. A more thorough check on the lifeforms told him that there was only one Barabel
with this team. Lyre unclipped his lightsaber from his belt and hung his coat from a
nearby tree, hoping that it would confuse the rangers for a couple seconds, if not the
Jedi itself. He then ducked behind a bush ten feet from the cloak. He rummaged through his
pack and found a pair of power packs for blasters. Lyre quickly removed the
overload-safety device from each and taped them tightly together and left them on the
ground that he predicted the hunters would fly over. Two power packs without the safety
devices caused an explosion about the size of a concussion grenade’s when pressed
together for roughly thirty seconds. Lyre had learned this trick from a bounty hunter
friend. He let twenty seconds go by and then used the Force to keep the power packs from
overloading immediately. He waited behind the bush until several hunters were within the
blast radius of the power packs and then relaxed the Force that kept the packs from
exploding. The packs blew up instantly, sending five of Lyre’s opponents into the
air. One, he noted with satisfaction, was the Barabel. The five were not followed
immediately; they must have been scouts, Lyre assumed. He had not even had to move from
his cover. He sat behind the bush and nibbled on a biscuit until he heard the other
hunters approaching. He stood up from where he was and walked into the open. Almost
instantly blaster fire appeared, but he stood still and it missed him completely. As the
speeder bikes drew closer he activated his lightsaber, to be ready in case any shots were
on target. He waved his hand negligently and utilized the Force. The lead speeder bike
swerved and plowed into a tree. The others were about thirty meters away. Lyre flicked his
hand upwards and then watched as small pebbles and not-so-small rocks hurled themselves at
the driver, causing him to lose control instantly as he struggled to protect himself from
the rocks. The driver turned into the path of one of his comrades, who collided into him
in a huge fireball. Lyre took a quick count. There were five left. He used his most
efficient weapon available: a force storm. Winds raged through the forest, picking up
branches and leaves and rocks and flinging them at high speeds. Lyre stood in the middle
of the whirlwind, smiling and raising his arms to the sky. A loud explosion echoed through
the forest, but it was impossible to tell what it was since vision was obscured. A speeder
bike zoomed close by, but it slammed into something a few seconds later. Lyre let the wind
die down and surveyed the wreckage. A humanoid was lying limp on the ground near by, his
neck at an unnatural angle. Three other rangers were on the ground, bleeding profusely
from wounds and burns. The last man was dressed differently from the others. He wore a
loose suit of grey with a matching cloak, but no lightsaber. He stirred slightly. Lyre
squatted down next to him and smacked him a few times to revive him. The young man opened
his eyes and moaned. "Hello," Lyre said, grinning evilly. He had always liked to
play around with his victims. "You look like you took a pretty bad fall. Where does
it hurt?"
"Legs...," the acolyte mumbled.
Lyre whacked each leg with the hilt of his lightsaber.
"This one? Or that?" The acolyte grimaced as Lyre continued to prod him with his
lightsaber. "I was wondering, what happened to your Jedi? Usually each team has at
least one Jedi; I know this from experience. I also know that I haven’t come across
yours yet." When the acolyte didn’t respond Lyre stood up and kicked him
viciously. "Where is he?" he yelled. The acolyte closed his eyes and ignored
him. Lyre lost control and sent bursts of blue lightning through the young man. The
acolyte kicked and writhed on the ground, but he was dead in seconds. Lyre continued to
send volts of electricity through him until he calmed. He stood up calmly and picked his
cloak off the branch. He was about to clip the lightsaber back onto his belt when he heard
the crunch of snow being walked upon from behind him.
"You might want to keep that on hand. It might be
useful," said a woman’s voice from behind him. Lyre spun to confront her. She
was humanoid, of a species he couldn’t place, but it didn’t matter to him. All
that mattered was the lightsaber in her hand.
"Ah, I’ve been wondering where you were,"
said Lyre, his voice remaining neutral.
"Just had to confirm locations. The other teams
should be here in less than half an hour."
"You should have waited for them." Lyre was
concentrating on the lightsaber in her hand- claw, actually- while he said this. The Jedi
was about to reply when the lightsaber in her hand activated all of a sudden and twisted
around in an arc, shearing off her legs at the pelvis. She fell to the ground with a cry
of agony. He leered down at her. "When will people learn to keep a tight grip on
their weapons?" He placed his foot on her neck and slowly put more pressure on it, at
the same time keeping her conscious by restricting blood flow to the legs. The Jedi gave
one last gurgle and went limp. Lyre glanced around and clipped the saber back onto his
belt. He took his bearings and began jogging in the general direction of Ghasek, leaving
no visible footprints and hoping he would have some time before another team caught up.
The ragtag assortment of "hunters" sped through
the forest aimlessly, hoping they wouldn’t come across Lyre. They weren’t even
pretending to try. Commander Weir was flying ahead of the trackers, occasionally hearing a
string of curses said a trifle loud.
"Keep up!" he yelled back. The seven trackers
he was in charge of just ignored him. The team had already stopped four times for a card
game, lunch, and two snacks. While they weren’t resting they were seeing how many
times they could bounce their speeder bikes on the ground without being thrown off. Weir
turned his back on them and sped on. Just then a shriek off agony ripped through the air.
The whole team instantly stopped. "Which way?" Weir called back to the trackers.
They looked at one another and as one turned their speeders in the opposite direction of
the scream. Weir followed them without hesitating. Then another cry came from directly in
front of them. The trackers panicked and went in all directions. Then a whole chorus of
screams roared through the forests, echoing without cease. Weir couldn’t tell where
they were coming from. He looked around wildly, trying to fathom the source of the
wailing. He zoomed between trees without looking where he was going, blindly trying to
escape from the shrieks. It was as if banshees had surrounded the forest and mountains and
begun to sing. Weir quickly sneaked a look behind him, and therefore didn’t see the
old man waiting for him ahead until the lightsaber was already halfway through him. In his
last moments Weir realized with astounding clarity that he wasn’t suited for hunting
down Dark Jedi.
Lyre would have been on edge for hours had he not sensed
the companions of the man he had just cut down panic and scatter. He assumed that they
weren’t professionals and probably wouldn’t try again. He was comfortably on his
way once more when he sensed more than twenty people converging on him. The teams had
joined and were coming for him. There was no way he could fight off that many together.
Knowing that his time had come, Lyre decided that he would go out in flames. Taking a
stick from the ground, he marked a spot on the ground where he would stand as the hunters
approached. He next picked several trees roughly thirty paces away and strung a coil of
thin but strong rope around them ten feet off the ground, to act as a trip wire. To each
length of rope he attached a small concussion grenade, set to go off when something caused
a large disturbance near it. The Dark Jedi then sat down in the marked place to wait for
the troops.
Fenre D’lik was coordinating the activity of the two
remaining teams. The teams of rangers had been split into three groups of eight. One would
attack from the front, one from the left, and one from the right. The purpose of the
rangers in this instance was to distract Lyre so that the Jedi could come from behind
without losing anyone. Only three Jedi were left, counting D’lik, and it was barely
enough to block Lyre from the Force. Ysalamiri were never used in hunting teams unless the
teams were entirely rangers. Otherwise the Jedi would be disconnected from the Force as
well, making him practically useless. D’lik signaled a halt to the teams. He waited
for the hunters to quiet before speaking. "Okay, we figure that our friend Lyre is
directly ahead of us, and he’s stopped. He appears to be waiting for us. Master
Ærus, Jedi Trass, myself, and the acolytes will move out of his field of sensitivity and
circle around behind him. Alpha Squad, you will remain here. Beta Squad will move to his
left and Gamma to his right. You will receive the command to move out once we are in
position." Each of the designated squad leaders nodded in response. "Then move
to your positions."
Jedi Trass moved to his side. "Are you sure
it’s not a good idea to send the acolytes with the squads, Master?"
"We might need them, Trass. If Lyre senses us coming
he’ll attempt to kill at least one of us, and if that happens we’ll need spares.
If Ærus gets his head cut off, or you get electrocuted, then we won’t have enough
power to cut him off from the Force. He’s a Master, after all. The acolytes might not
know how to help, but we can tap them for energy if we need it." Trass, who was new
to the job of hunting down Dark Jedi, nodded, but didn’t look much less nervous.
D’lik clapped him on the shoulder and told him not to worry. Ærus and the acolytes
joined them, and they began a long loop that should take them behind Lyre without him
knowing it.
Lyre waited for the hunters to attack for nearly an hour.
It was getting dark out. What could they possibly be waiting for? Any fool knew that
darkness didn’t give anyone an advantage over a Jedi. He knew they hadn’t moved
on. It was so quiet it seemed like he could hear every creak of moving joints and every
blaster being polished in the distance. As if on some silent command all noise cut off
suddenly. Then the air was filled with the whine of engines accelerating. The attackers
were separated into three groups of eight, his senses told him. The closest was coming
from the front. He concentrated a moment and the air was filled with the screams that had
caused the last group he had come across to panic. This time all he felt emanating from
the hunters was nervousness, no fear, just a strange, nervous determination. He was
obviously dealing with veterans. Lyre waited for several minutes, then heard the yell and
explosion of one of his trip wires being hit. It appeared only to affect two attackers
seriously, and it warned the others approaching him. He unclipped his lightsaber, but
didn’t activate it, hoping if they didn’t pinpoint him immediately he might have
a better chances of surviving. A blaster bolt flew by. The hunters must have seen him
silhouetted against the snow. Realizing they now had a pretty good idea where he was, Lyre
activated his lightsaber and jumped to the offensive. He rushed towards the nearest
hunter, parrying an incoming blaster bolt and skewering the ranger on his blade. He spun
about and swung down, letting the force guide his move. The blade sliced cleanly through
the front of the speeder bike coming at him. He channeled his rage at being hunted like a
beast into his power and charged the two nearest rangers. The lightsaber cut through the
thorax of a Verpine and continued on in an upward arc towards the neck of a Shistavanen.
The blade never reached its target. Lyre’s hand had been stopped in midmotion. The
Jedi must have come quietly. Lyre turned around, his chiseled features set in contrast by
the glow of his saber.
"We meet again, Master Lyre," said D’lik from where he
stood with several others.
"Ah, Fenre. It’s been a long time," Lyre
said, putting a confident smile on. "Seventy years at least."
"At least. About as much time as you’ll spend
under guard, if you’re not executed, that is."
"Ah, no, my friend, I’ll soon be gone. You do
realize that, yes?" Lyre’s plan was the same as before- take as many with him as
he possibly could. "And you with me," he muttered, raising his free hand to send
deadly lightning straight at D’lik. He was fully conscious of all the blasters
pointed at him. Blue lightning coursed down his arms, but D’lik neatly parried it
with his lightsaber.
"That’s really not a very effective trick,
Master. Parrying Force lightning is part of basic lightsaber training. Now I have
something for you. Something that you can do nothing about." Lyre looked about
suddenly shaken by a fear. He could feel the power rising from the three Jedi before him.
Rising like huge waves in a vast sea. Then the waves crested and fell, crashing on top of
him. Nothing happened to him physically, but he could feel his power being stripped away
as he drowned amidst the power. He could no longer control the force. Trynt Lyre groaned
and fell to his knees, becoming exactly what he had tried so hard to escape: a withered,
weak old man with not even a drop of energy left. His years with the Dark Side had stolen
from him any natural power he once possessed, and now he was nothing. Lyre dropped to the
ground amidst the power still flowing around him and sobbed. Master D’lik turned to
the commanding ranger. "Have the ship send down a containment tank. And keep those
damned ysalimiri away from me." He turned and stalked off into the woods, fully aware
that he had just sentenced his one-time friend to as much living hell he could take.
© Neal Manning, 1997
(Back to Contents) |