Drew Karpyshyn - Darth Bane - Path of Destruction

"You left the Academy so you wouldn't have to face me?" The words sounded compassionate, as if she were seeking to understand him. But Bane could sense the contempt beneath them.

"No," he explained. "I didn't leave because of you. I left because you were the only one who recognized my failing. Everyone else congratulated me for my great victory: Kas'im, Qordis… everyone. They were blind to the true nature of the dark side. As blind as I had been until you opened my eyes.

"I left because the Academy had nothing more to offer me. I went to the Valley of the Dark Lords hoping to find the answers I couldn't find here."

"And you never thought to come tell me all this?" Her voice had changed; the veil of false compassion was gone. Now she just sounded angry. Angry and hurt. Bane was relieved that she still felt strongly enough about him to reveal some genuine emotion.

"I should have come to you," he admitted. "I acted rashly. I let my anger at Qordis drive me away."

She nodded: passion and reckless actions were something he knew Githany could relate to.

"I've answered your question," he said. "Now you answer mine. Why are you here?"

She hesitated, her teeth biting down softly on her lower lip. Bane recognized the unconscious gesture; it meant she was lost in thought, trying to sort something out.

"Not here," she said at last, rising stiffly from the bed. "I have something to show you. In the archives."

Without looking back to see if he was following, she made her way from his room and into the dim hall beyond, moving quickly. Bane scrambled to his feet and trotted after her, breaking into a jog to keep up.

She stared straight ahead, her boots making crisp snaps as they struck the stone floor with each brisk stride. The sharp sound echoed in the empty halls, but Githany appeared not to care. Bane could tell that something was bothering her, but he had no idea what it could be.

They found the door to the archives open. Githany didn't seem surprised; she passed right through without slowing down. Bane paused for only an instant before following her.

At the far side of the room, beyond the rows of shelves, she stopped and turned to face him. There was an expression he couldn't quite decipher on her haughty but beautiful features.

He crossed to the middle of the room then stopped short when she held up her hand, palm extended. "Githany," he said, perplexed, "what's going?"

His words were cut off by the hollow boom of the archive door slamming shut behind him. He whirled around to see Sirak, flanked by Yevra and Llokay. The Zabrak's pale yellow lips were pulled back in a cruel smile so wide it gave him the appearance of a grinning skull. Bane couldn't help but notice the lightsaber handles dangling from the belts of all three.

When Githany spoke from behind him he had to resist the urge to turn and face her. It wouldn't he wise to expose his back to the Zabrak trio.

"Why did you follow me, Bane?" she asked, her voice a mixture of anger, disgust, and regret. "How could you be so stupid? Didn't you realize you were walking into a trap?"

Githany had betrayed him. The conversation in his room had been a test, one that he'd failed. He knew her well enough to expect something like this. He should have been wary of a trap. Instead he'd been a blind and obedient fool.

He knew he'd brought this on himself. Now he had to discern a way out.

"Is this what you want, Githany?" he asked, trying to stall for time.

"She wants what all Sith want," Sirak answered for her. "Power. Victory. She knows to side with the strong."

"I'm stronger than he is," Bane told Githany. "I proved that in the dueling ring."

"There's more to strength than physical prowess," Sirak replied, igniting his lightsaber. It was the double-bladed variety. Bane's eyes were focused squarely on the bright red blades, but he heard the hiss as the other two Zabrak followed suit. Githany, however, still hadn't fired up her whip.

"Strength means more than just the ability to use the Force," Sirak continued, starting to advance. "It means intelligence. Cunning. Ruthlessness."

"You know how easily I defeated you in the ring," Bane said, finally speaking directly to Sirak, though his words were still meant for Githany. "Are you so certain you can defeat me now?"

"Four against one, Bane. And you left your lightsaber back in your chambers. I like those odds."

Bane laughed and turned his back on Sirak. The Zabrak was close enough to lunge in and kill him with one blow, but Bane was gambling he would hold back, wary of being lured into a trap. It was a dangerous gamble, but he wanted to be looking directly into Githany's eyes when he spoke what might be his last words.

"This fool actually believes you brought me here for his sake," he said to her. Behind him he could sense Sirak's confusion and uncertainty. No attack came yet.

Githany met his stare with a cold, unflinching gaze and didn't answer. But her teeth worried her lower lip.

"We both know why you brought me here, Githany," he said, speaking quickly. Sirak wouldn't wait for long. "You don't want to side with Sirak. You've been plotting ways to get me to kill him ever since you first arrived."

"Enough!" Sirak shouted. Bane threw himself forward, rolling out of the way at the last second as the double-bladed lightsaber sliced a deep furrow into the spot where he had been standing. As he rolled to his feet, he saw Githany move; when she tossed his lightsaber to him, he was already extending his hand and using the Force to guide the hilt into his grasp.

The weapon flared to life and he turned just in time to block Sirak's charge. Yevra and Llokay were a few meters behind, rushing forward to join the fray.

Bane counterattacked, slashing down at Sirak's legs. The Zabrak parried the blow, and their blades collided with a burning hum. On the edge of his awareness Bane heard the sound of Githany's whip igniting.

A quick flurry caused Sirak to retreat. Bane feinted as if he was going to press forward, then took a step back, opening a full meter of space between them. It gave him just enough time to cast out his arm in the direction of the unsuspecting Yevra. Catching her up with the Force, he hurled her against one of the nearby shelves hard enough to splinter the wood.

She crumpled to the floor, dazed. Before she had a chance to rise, Githany lashed out with her whip and ended the Zabrak female's life.

Bane barely had time to register her death before Llokay was on him. The red-skinned Zabrak was overmatched, but his grief and rage empowered him, and he drove his much larger opponent back with a brutal series of desperate slashes and strikes.

Staggering back, Bane was almost too distracted to see Sirak unleashing a bolt of crackling blue lightning at him. At the last second he twisted and caught the potentially lethal blast with the blade of his lightsaber, absorbing its energy. The move had been one of instinct and last resort, and it had left him vulnerable to a single quick thrust from Llokay. But Githany's whip was snapping and cracking at Llokay's eyes and face, and his blade was busy frantically warding off the blows.

Bane turned his attention back to Sirak, who hesitated. At that moment there was a scream from Llokay: he had misjudged the erratic path of Githany's energy whip and lost an eye. A second scream would have followed, but she gashed open his throat, the burning tip of her weapon searing his vocal cords so he died in agonized silence.

Outnumbered, Sirak extinguished his lightsaber, dropped it to the ground, and fell to his knees.

"Please, Bane," he begged, his voice cracking. "I yield. You are a true Sith Lord. I know that now."

Githany whispered, "End it now, Bane."

Bane advanced until he towered over his groveling foe. Suddenly it wasn't just Sirak he saw before him. It was everyone he'd ever struck down. Every life he'd ever taken. Fohargh, the Makurth. The nameless Republic soldier he'd killed on Apatros. His father.