Star Wars: The Old Republic: Revan (19 page)

Over the next centuries, the Sith slowly rebuilt what they had lost. They began to expand their Empire again. They conquered newly discovered worlds in sectors on the far fringes of the galaxy, far beyond the borders of Republic-explored space, safely hidden from the ever-vigilant Jedi Order.

Every Sith knew the story; it was taught to them at an early age. And while the official stance was that the Empire was slowly gathering its strength to one day strike back at their enemies, the truth was far different. Scourge and Nyriss both understood the folly of that path; they understood that the Empire could survive only as long as the Jedi remained unaware that the Sith still lived.

If the Emperor was really planning to attack the Republic again, he would be repeating the mistakes of Naga Sadow. He would start a war they couldn’t possibly win, and this time the Jedi would not stop until they had wiped the Sith out completely.

“You’re lying,” Scourge insisted. “Attacking the Republic makes no sense. The Emperor is not a fool.”

“No,” Nyriss admitted. “He is no fool. He is arrogant. He is powerful. And he is mad.” She looked directly at Scourge. “Some of us on the Dark Council learned of his plan. To save the Empire—to save our entire species—we formed an alliance, vowing to work together to bring the Emperor down.”

“Was Darth Xedrix part of this alliance?”

“He was.”

“Yet you betrayed him.”

“He became a necessary sacrifice for the cause.”

“If he was your ally, why did he have to die?”

“If the Emperor suspected the members of the Dark Council of allying against him, he would kill us all. We had to take steps to protect ourselves. To throw off suspicion, we had to distance ourselves from the separatists who openly oppose the Emperor.”

“That’s why you staged the fake assassinations against yourself,”
Scourge said. “If the separatists were targeting you, the Emperor would be less likely to suspect you were working with them.”

Nyriss nodded.

“The plan was to have my own people ‘investigate’ the attempts on my life and place the blame accordingly. But then the Emperor sent you, and the plan had to change. Your arrival meant the Emperor suspected this was bigger than a simple separatist uprising. It wouldn’t be enough to implicate a radical fringe group of terrorists.”

“So you framed Xedrix.”

“You can’t frame someone who is guilty,” Nyriss corrected. “I just exposed him. Xedrix really
was
working with the separatists. Every piece of evidence you uncovered on your missions was real. It had to be. I could not afford to be caught in a lie if you or the Emperor looked deeper into the matter. Allowing Xedrix to take the blame will confirm the Emperor’s suspicion that the separatists were working with someone on the Dark Council. His death will keep my involvement—and that of my co-conspirators—secret.”

“And you get to eliminate a longtime rival,” Scourge added.

“A fortuitous bonus,” Nyriss agreed, her face breaking into one of her hideous grins. “Xedrix will not be missed,” she added. “He was a weak link in our chain. He was human, and his power was fading. If one of us had to be sacrificed, he was the most logical choice.”

“Why tell all this to me?” Scourge asked.

“You already suspected something was wrong,” Nyriss told him. “Why else would you have tried to interrogate Sechel? If I simply kill you, though, it might raise the Emperor’s suspicions even farther. He sent you to investigate the assassinations; it would be better if you were the one to tell him Darth Xedrix was responsible.”

She paused for a long moment before continuing. “During your service you have proven your worth to me. You are strong in the Force. Intelligent. Perceptive. You have incredible potential. My hope is that by revealing the truth I can convince you to join our cause. I would hate to discard such a valuable tool without good reason.”

Scourge narrowed his eyes. This was too easy. Even if he swore allegiance to Nyriss, she couldn’t just let him walk out of the room. The risk that he might report her to the Emperor was too great. She had to
have some other way to protect herself, some angle he hadn’t considered.

He realized he was in over his depth. Ever since he had come to work for Nyriss, she had been playing him. She’d twisted and manipulated him for her own purposes, and he had danced for her like a puppet on a string.

“What’s the catch?” he finally asked. “How do you know I won’t betray your confidence?”

“Very good,” she said, smiling fiendishly in approval. “I would have been disappointed if you had simply accepted my offer. Short of killing you, there is no way I can completely eliminate the risk that you will try to expose me. But what proof do you have? Accuse me, and I will simply claim that you are the real traitor, trying to frame me after you killed Darth Xedrix.

“Remember: whatever actual evidence exists will implicate you, not me. He died by your blade. Are you certain you left no evidence behind that could implicate you in his murder? No drops of blood? No flecks of skin? No witnesses who can place you at the spaceport on Bosthirda the day Xedrix died?”

Scourge nodded in appreciation. He couldn’t help but admire how thoroughly Nyriss had entangled him in her web. “Let me guess—the files Sechel recovered from the UDM manufacturing plant and the separatist base will implicate me, as well?”

“Sechel is very good at what he does. Even the experts can’t tell when he’s doctored a datafile,” she assured him. “Even with all the evidence pointing in your direction, it’s possible the Emperor would still believe you over a member of the Dark Council, but honestly, he would probably kill us both just to be safe. That way the traitor is dead no matter which one of us is guilty. And I don’t think you’re the type to martyr yourself out of loyalty to the Emperor.”

“So where do we go from here?” Scourge asked.

“Now I must persuade you to truly believe in our cause,” Nyriss said. “It’s not enough to secure your silence through threats and blackmail. When we finally move against the Emperor, I want you on our side.”

“And how do you intend to convince me?”

“Have you ever heard tales of the Emperor’s childhood?”

Scourge shook his head. “I don’t even know what planet he’s from.”

“Few people do. He’s hidden his past, because if the truth came to light none would follow him.”

Scourge was interested despite himself.

“He was born almost a thousand years ago,” she went on, “in the decades before the Great Hyperspace War with the Republic. He spent his childhood on Nathema, a lush and vibrant agricultural world on the far fringes of the Empire.”

“Nathema? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Once it went by another name, but that name has long been forgotten … just like the planet itself. The Emperor erased Nathema from the history books and the astrogation charts to hide all evidence of his crimes.”

“Crimes?”

“Through the lost rituals of the ancients, he used the dark side to conquer death and make himself immortal. But his immortality came with a cost. Telling you what happened is not enough. You must see for yourself. Only then will you understand the price the Emperor was willing to pay. Only then will you understand why he must be stopped.”

“And how am I to find this lost world?”

“I will take you there,” Nyriss said. “Then you can witness the horror with your own eyes.”

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?” Scourge demanded. “Another elaborate trick to manipulate me into doing your bidding?”

“You don’t,” Nyriss admitted. “But what other choice do you have?”

She had a point. “When do we leave?” he asked.

“Patience, Lord Scourge,” Nyriss said. “It will take several days before we are ready to leave. The journey is long, and we must be certain the Emperor never finds out. Traveling to Nathema is punishable by death.”

“Will Sechel be joining us?”

“No. This is for your eyes alone.”

Scourge nodded, silently wondering if the adviser would try to seek revenge for the brutal interrogation.

“You are part of the inner circle now,” Nyriss assured him. “Sechel will not dare to harm you. See to your injuries,” she instructed, noting the burns left behind by Darth Xedrix’s lightning attack. “Then return to your room and get some rest.”

As he turned to go, she gave him another of her unsettling smiles. “You might want to sleep with one eye open, though. Just in case.”

CLAN ORDO’S VICTORY CELEBRATIONS
continued late into the night. Six members of the clan, four men and two women, had died in the battle, a quarter of the casualties they had inflicted on Clan Jendri.

Veela had ordered all thirty bodies to be gathered together into a massive funeral pyre. Revan understood this mixing of friend and foe: they were all Mandalorians who had died in battle. By custom they were all due a warrior’s funeral, regardless of which clan they had been fighting for. The pyre burned for hours, the flames lighting the night and warming the camp as the brothers and sisters of the fallen recounted tales of their bravery. They honored their memories through song and feast, simultaneously grieving their deaths and celebrating the resounding Ordo victory.

The ale flowed freely, but Revan had limited himself to a single mug. Because he had fought with Clan Ordo, he was entitled to join the revelry. But though he knew their customs, he wasn’t Mandalorian. It was difficult for him to rejoice in the loss of comrades, no matter how honorable their deaths may have been. Revan was also wary of what Veela might do now that she knew he was a Jedi. Hopefully she just thought he was an anonymous rogue Master; if she knew who he really was there could be trouble.

Many Mandalorians despised the Jedi—and Revan in particular. Revan had been responsible for countless Mandalorian deaths, and he had stolen and hidden Mandalore’s Mask, an act some considered a war crime. Considering Veela’s fierce pride in her people and her culture, she probably wouldn’t simply forgive and forget. Fortunately, it seemed like she wasn’t aware of his true identity.

Over the course of the evening, Edric and several others came over to speak with him, making a point to include him in the clan festivities. Everyone seemed to know he had drawn the fire of the enemy Basilisks, allowing the pilots to reach their mounts. Interestingly, though, none of them knew any of the details of what had occurred out beyond the edges of the main battle. Obviously Veela had sworn the other pilots to secrecy.

He should have taken that as a good sign, but he kept catching glimpses of Veela and the other pilots watching him suspiciously. They might not know he was Revan, but they knew he was a Jedi and that clearly bothered them.

He wasn’t sure if Veela had ordered them to stay silent out of respect for what he had done during the battle, or because she thought they still needed him to find Mandalore’s Mask, or even because of her feelings for Canderous. But whatever the explanation, his secret seemed safe … for now.

When he finally climbed into bed late that night he was surprised to hear Canderous come stumbling into the tent a few minutes later.

“I thought you’d be with Veela.”

“She’s not too happy with me right now,” Canderous explained. “I’ll let her cool down for the night.”

“Sorry about that.”

“You did what you had to do,” his friend answered as he settled into his sleeping bag. “Sooner or later it was going to come out anyway.”

“How bad is this?”

“Veela doesn’t like Jedi,” Canderous admitted. “But she’s hard to read. Hopefully she’ll just hold a grudge for a few days.” The big man rolled over onto his side. “Either that, or she’ll try to kill us on tomorrow’s climb.”

Revan couldn’t tell if he was joking.

——

THE WEATHER IN THE MORNING
was the same as every other morning on Rekkiad—freezing cold, with fierce winds and swirling snow that limited visibility. Revan had been hoping for a calm, clear day so they could use the Basilisks to fly them up to the top. But even here at the base, unexpected gusts had enough strength to almost knock him off his feet. Higher up, the wind shear and lack of visibility would make an attempted landing on the summit suicidal, even for the most skilled pilots. Dangerous as it was, climbing to the top was the only real option.

“Bad conditions for an ascent,” Canderous remarked as they stood at the base of the first Spear.

“This is as good as it gets,” Veela said. “If you’re scared, I’ll get Edric to take your place and you can watch over the camp.”

“The old man would probably have a heart attack halfway up,” Canderous answered with a grin.

“He’s only a year older than you,” Veela pointed out.

“But I’m like a fine wine,” he replied. “I get better with age.”

The playful exchange eased some of Revan’s concerns about the mission, though he still wasn’t thrilled by the makeup of the climbing team. There were eight of them in total: Revan, Canderous, Veela, and the five other Basilisk riders, including Grizzer—the young man who’d given up his mount to Canderous.

Veela’s picks made a certain amount of sense. Going after Mandalore’s Mask was a great honor, and the Basilisk riders were among the most respected warriors in the clan. The only other person who might have been included was Edric, but he had been chosen to stay behind to lead Clan Ordo in case Veela and the others never came back.

Yet Revan couldn’t help noticing that all of the climbers chosen knew he was a Jedi. And Edric, Canderous’s oldest and most loyal friend, was being left behind. He wished he’d had a chance to talk to Canderous before they had left. Now all he could do was keep his guard up throughout the ascent, just in case.

They broke into two teams of four, the members of each team connected
by a long length of climbing rope. Canderous, Revan, and two of the pilots made up the first group, Veela and the other three pilots the second. In addition to their winter clothing and gear, each climber had a twenty-kilo pack of supplies and rations strapped across his or her shoulders.