Drew Karpyshyn - Darth Bane - Path of Destruction

He didn't bother to knock on Lord Qordis's door; he simply used the Force to burst apart the lock, then kicked it open. Unfortunately, the element of surprise he'd been hoping for had been lost.

Qordis had his back to the door, examining one of the magnificent tapestries that hung beside his oversized bed. He didn't turn when the Blademaster burst in; he didn't react at all. Which meant he'd been expecting the intrusion.

Kas'im gestured violently with his hand, and the door slammed shut. What he was about to say wasn't for the ears of the students. "What in blazes did you do, Qordis?"

"I assume you are referring to apprentice Bane" came the too-casual reply.

"Of course I kriffing mean Bane! No more games, Qordis. What did you do to him?"

"To him? Nothing. Not in the way you're thinking. I merely tried to reason with him. Tried to make him understand the necessity of working within the structure of this institution."

"You manipulated him," Kas'im said with a sigh of resignation. He knew Qordis had no fondness for Bane. Not with Lord Kopecz, his longtime rival, being the one who'd brought him here. The Blademaster realized he should have warned the young apprentice to be on his guard.

"You twisted his mind somehow," he continued, trying to draw out a reaction. "You forced him down a path you wanted him to take. A path of ruin."

There was no immediate reply. Tired of staring at Qordis's back, he stepped forward and reached up to grab the taller man by the shoulder, whirling him around to face him. "Why, Qordis?"

In the first brief second that the overseer of the Academy was spun around, Kas'im caught a glimpse of uncertainty and confusion in the gaunt, drawn features. Then those features twisted into a mask of rage, dark eyes burning in sunken sockets. Qordis slapped Kas'im's hand away.

"Bane brought this on himself! He was willful! Obsessed with the past! He is of no use to us until he accepts the teachings of this Academy!"

Kas'im was taken aback: not by the sudden outburst, but by the unexpected glimpse of uncertainty that had preceded it. Suddenly he wondered if maybe the meeting hadn't gone exactly as planned. Perhaps Qordis had tried to manipulate Bane and failed. It wouldn't be the first time they'd underestimated their unusual apprentice.

Now Kas'im felt more curious than angry. "Tell me what happened, Qordis. Where is Bane now?"

Qordis sighed, almost regretful. "He's gone into the wastelands. He's heading for the Valley of the Dark Lords."

"What? Why would he do that?"

"I told you: he's obsessed with the past. He believes there are secrets out there that will be revealed to him. Secrets of the dark side."

"Did you warn him of the dangers? The pelko swarms? The tuk'ata?"

"He never gave me a chance. He wouldn't have listened anyway."

That much, at least, Kas'im believed. Yet he wasn't sure if he trusted the rest of Qordis's story. The Master of the Academy was subtle, crafty. It would be just like him to trick someone into venturing through the deadly Valley of the Dark Lords. If he wanted to eliminate Bane without being held accountable, this would be one of the ways to do it, except for one small thing.

"He's going to survive," Kas'im stated. "He's stronger than you know."

"If he survives," Qordis replied, turning back to the tapestry, "he will learn the truth. There are no secrets in the valley. Not anymore. Everything of value has been taken: stripped away first by Sith seeking to preserve our order, and later by Jedi seeking to wipe it out. There is nothing left in the tombs but hollow chambers and mounds of dust. Once he sees this for himself, he will give up his foolish idealization of the ancient Sith. Only then will he be ready to join the Brotherhood of Darkness."

The conversation was over; that much was clear. Qordis's words made sense, if this was all part of a larger lesson to make Bane finally abandon the old ways and accept the new Sith order and Kaan's Brotherhood.

Yet as he turned and left the room, Kas'im couldn't shake the feeling that Qordis was rationalizing events after the fact. Qordis wanted others to believe he had been in control the whole time, but the haunted look the Blademaster had glimpsed gave evidence to the real truth: Qordis had been scared by something Bane had done or said.

That thought brought a smile to the Twi'lek's lips. He had every confidence Bane would survive his journey into the Valley of the Dark Lords. And he was very interested to see what would happen when the young man returned.

Sirak was moving gingerly. He'd spent the past thirty-six hours in a bacta tank, and though his injuries were completely healed, his body still instinctively reacted to the memories of the wounds inflicted by Bane's saber. Slowly, he gathered up his personal effects, anxious to return to the familiar surroundings of his own room and leave the solitude of the medcenter behind.

One of the med droids floated in, bringing him a pair of pants, a shirt, and a dark apprentice's robe. The clothes smelled of disinfectant; it was common practice to sterilize everything before bringing it into the medcenter. The garments fit, but he knew as soon as he put them on that they had never been worn before.

He hadn't seen a single being other than the med droids since being carried unconscious from the dueling ring. Nobody had come to checkup on him while he'd floated in the healing fluid: not Qordis, not Kas'im, not even Llokay or Yevra. He didn't blame them.

The Sith despised weakness and failure. Whenever apprentices lost in the dueling ring, they were left alone with the shame of their defeat until strong enough to resume their studies. It happened to everyone sooner or later… except it had never before happened to Sirak.

He had been invincible, untouchable, the top apprentice in every discipline. He'd heard the rumors and the whispers. They called him the Sith'ari, the perfect being. Only they wouldn't be calling him the Sith'ari now. Not after what Bane had done to him.

He turned to the door and found Githany standing there, watching him. "What do you want?" he asked warily.

He knew who she was, though he'd never actually spoken to her. On the day of her arrival he'd identified her as a potential threat. He'd watched her, and he'd seen her watching him, each measuring and gauging the other, trying to determine who had the upper hand. Sirak was wary of all potential challengers, or so he had thought, until the one student he'd feared the least had brought him down.

"I came to speak to you," she answered. "About Bane."

He twitched involuntarily at the name, then cursed himself for his reaction. If Githany had noticed, she gave no indication.

"What about him?" he asked curtly.

"I'm curious as to what your plans are now. How are you going to handle this situation?"

It was a struggle to summon up his old arrogance, yet somehow he managed a satisfactory sneer. "My plans are my own."

"Are you going to seek revenge?" she pressed.

"In time, perhaps," he finally admitted.

"I can help you."

She took a step farther into the room. Even in that single step Sirak could see that she moved with the sensual grace of a Zeltron veil dancer. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

"I helped Bane defeat you," she said. "I recognized his potential from the moment I first saw him. When Qordis and the other Masters turned their backs on him, I secretly taught him their lessons in the Force. I knew the dark side was strong in him. Stronger than in me. Stronger than in you. Maybe even stronger than in the Masters themselves."

Sirak couldn't see the point of her story. "You still haven't answered my question. You got what you wanted out of Bane. Why help me now?"

She shook her head sadly. "I was wrong about Bane. I thought if helped him grow stronger, he would embrace the dark side. Then I could learn from him and gain power of my own. But he is incapable of embracing the dark side. Everyone else believes his triumph over you was a great victory. Only I recognized it as a failure."