Location: In the shadow of the dead
Odavessa burned.
Anthysius dragged himself forward, step by step. The heat threatened to cook his skin alive, but still he struggled onwards. Through the ruined square, past the slagged craters where once stood a monument, beyond the lines of half-melted bodies, faces still frozen in horror and pain. The air was filled with dust and thick vapour, a fine red fog that blotted everything, leaving only vision of an area a few feet across. Through the fog came the lost, the insane, the broken. Some lay catatonic, overwhelmed by the sudden mass death. Still others were possessed by the power of the Bogan, screaming and attacking Anthysius as he and Argus walked through the ruined city. They were easily dispatched, but the choking smoke and oppressive heat took their toll. The smoke was cooking the city alive, trapping the heat rising from a hundred infernos across the city like a thick atmospheric greenhouse cooker.
Anthysius glanced at his lightsaber, the blade seeming so faint and dull as the red-brown dust of the air brushed past it. He could hear Argus' laboured breathing. The loyal retainer was injured from the duel with
Aaran Tafo
, but worse still, he had received stray blaster shots and shrapnel blasts at close range soon after they left the Mausoleum, when the streets were thick with hostiles. Of course, there were little of those now. Jedi, Marines, Stormtroopers, Mandalorians, Sith- few had survived the cataclysm the Worm had wrought on them all.
Anthysius hissed aloud. The Worm. The thrice-damned monster. Hatred surged in his heart again, filling his leaden limbs with borrowed energy, like balloons inflated too many times. His head swam as he tried to focus on the present. They were not far from their destination.
"
Argus..." he croaked aloud. "
Can you stand? And tell me truthfully."
"
Yes, my lord." Argus responded. Even in his state, his voice projected calm. He would not show it, but he was seriously injured. Anthysius allowed him to continue the act.
"
Good... We should not be far from our destination by now. It was fortunate that you left a beacon there."
"
In case we had to erect a stele where you fell against the Kyja, of course."
Anthysius made a sound. Not a laugh nor a cough, but something much more pathetic. As he continued onwards, he said, mostly to himself:
"
The arena should be no more than a minute away."
And then they were there. The walls of the ruined arena seemed to suddenly peek through the haze, it's brick-red colour almost forming into a solid mass out of the smoke.
"
Let's find that beacon."
Location: Odavessa Atmosphere, Odavessa City Airspace
"This is the helm, we are cutting through the cloud layer now."
Issan nodded silently, watching from the bridge windows. The city was a mess. Entire districts slagged, the smoke so thick in stretched from the cloud layer down to street level. Even from here she could
smell the death in her soul, so large was the death-wound in the Force. A true act of annihilitic solipsism. She could almost marvel at the Worm's determination.
Almost.
"
Set course for the estate. Might as well start there."
The
Dour Predator, flanked by the
Fatal Sums and
Insolence, drifted further to the surface. They had avoided getting too close when the bombardment was at its height, to ensure they were not lanced by falling plasma of secondaries from the ground. Nonetheless, it was still a crapshoot, as the seemingly infinite fleet up above continued to rain fire down. At least now the fire was sporadic and spread out, and in the ashcloud they had kicked up it would be nigh impossible to target the three ships for breaking ranks.
"Ma'am, we're reading distress beacons all over."
"
Just the damned crying for help. We can't save them all."
"One of them is coming from the Arena of the Dark Prophets."
Issan turned on her heel.
"
Make course immediately-"
"Fighter swarm on intercept course, Star Destroyer-sized contact trailing," the radar station called out.
So they were spotted.
"
Defensive formation, and all hands to battlestations. How long until intercept?"
"Twenty minutes."
"
Continue moving to the beacon and hold off the fighters. My lord might be able to wait a little longer."
Location: Arena of the Dark Prophets, Odavessa Ruins
Anthysius collapsed on his haunches as he finally hit the switch. The beacon had been wedged into an alcove of the arena stands, fortunately for him had been spared destruction. Argus was already lying down, letting their last bacta pad take the sting off the worst of the blaster hits.
"
Now we wait..."
The pair sat in silence, listening to the dull thunder of explosions in the city a distance away. The wind blew threw the arena, bringing with it the death-haze of the city. They heard and felt the echoes of death for untold minutes. Maybe even an hour, Anthysius idly wondered. The beeping of the beacon droned on, a metronome his mind could cling to.
A sudden presence in the Force jolted him from his fugue state. He got to his feet and exited the stands, looking to get a better view from inside the arena. He saw the source of the presence. An old woman, covered in worn rags and burnt armour. She stood in the middle of the arena, knelt over the centre. As Anthysius approached, she stood up. Her voice carried over the wind:
"
You should have died. You should have died and we would have been off this mudball in a day. But you, spawn of the damned, brought ruin on our house."
So this was the matron of Kyja.
"
I answered your princeling's challenge and won it, as was my right-"
"
Do not lecture me about your rights and obligations, villein. Spawn of a pissant and a damned wench." Every syllable hissed with venom, so noxious that the haze seemed to part before her as she turned and walked towards him. Anthysius steadied himself.
"
You have no right to bear the name of Calimondra, not anymore than dozens of nameless worms who have laid claim to it."
"
That is not your decision."
She stared at him, eyes possessed of fury.
"
I have no more quarrel with you or yours, elder. And there are far more pressing matters."
"
No, there is nothing more pressing." The older Sith stepped forward, steps deliberate. Her tattered cloak blew off her, revealing a cybernetic body and master hand stretched to the side, lightsaber in hand. What flesh yet remained was singed by, presumably, the bombardment.
"
There is little left for me but revenge. Fortunately, that is the only thing a true Sith needs." Her blade ignited and then she was gone.
No, not gone, Anthysius realised too late as the Kyja elder slammed into him at literally blinding speed. By fate or will the blade had just barely missed impaling Anthysius' head, glancing off his shoulder armour.
The Heritor reacted quickly, the fear squeezing his mind back to alertness. His lightsaber flew to his hand and ignited in time to block the follow-up blows. Each attack hammered on him, and he was forced to go on the defensive. He struggled, the Kyja's blows being so quick that Anthysius could not even gasp for breath between each blow, much less call for help.
But he need not. Argus had gotten up from the ground and flung large chunks of masonry at the pair, forcing them apart. The Kyja elder wailed in frustration, seemingly flying into the air as she hopped onto, and then pushed off of, the tossed rubble. Anthysius steadied himself, trying to assess the situation. He looked up at the matron, floating atop one of the rubble pieces she'd wrenched from Argus control. But beyond her-
"
Shuttles," Argus breathed, stepping closer to Anthysius. And not just any shuttle- even at this distance he could see the distinctive mark of the Kyja clan.
His heart sank. The beacon had drawn someone indeed. But even as he watched, he saw one of the shuttle open fire with its hull guns, blowing one of the other shuttles from the sky. The woman stopped to watched too.
"
What manner of trickery is this?"
Before Anthysius could retort, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He looked straight up and saw it: more bombardment. Without a word, Anthysius turned and dashed for the stands of the arena as turbolaser bolts lanced into the arena, the fury of suns igniting the air and burning the sand around him.
Disoriented, the light and head washed over him as he threw himself forwards, into the stands. His senses were overwhelmed as the turbolasers fell like divine thunder: the ruins around him seemed to melt and shift from the heat and impact, the roar of superheated air deafening him. He lay on the ground, hugging his head for what seemed like minutes.
Then it was over. Anthysius realised silence had fallen on the area. He looked up from his prone position. The archway around him had cracked and buckled, but it was almost as if the lasers had not hit the ancient ruin. His eyes wandered across the masonry, idly noticing the runes carved on it glowing softly.
The humming drone of shuttle engines picked up volume. The shuttles! Anthysius pushed himself off the ground and headed for the exit again. The bombardment seemed almost to destroy the smoke in the area, but as he stepped out to the newly visible air, the heat hit him, ten times worse than before. The sand beneath his feet seemed to glow, though that was probably just the newly cleared air. A shuttle was descending rapidly, its guns firing at another behind it. Both were marked in Kyja colours.
"
DIE!" Anthysius whirled around, his blade already back in his hand, parrying the matron's blow. The crone had somehow survived, though her flesh seemed almost to melt off her metal body. She was more frantic than before, and Anthysius, stunned by the sudden bombardment, was no match. He parried, dodged, and watched in mute horror, as if his body was too slow for his eyes, as her blade cut under his guard and severed his arm. The pain did not even register in him as she flung her free hand forward, palm smashing into his chest, sending him flying into the wall of the arena.
The wind knocked out of him, Anthysius slumped down to the ground, coughing. His vision swam. Was this how it was to end? What a fittingly pathetic end to a pathetic, grasping and small man, he thought.
His blurred vision could make out Argus and his cloak swirling about. Perhaps he was duelling the matron. He realised he no longer held his blade. Perhaps Argus had picked it up, Anthysius thought.
A long shadow fell over Anthysius then, and he slowly turned to look. A shuttle had landed, and its doors slid open, men of Kyja colours flooding out- and then they were gone as the shuttle exploded in a fireball. Pebbles bounced off his forehead, and he twitched the fingers on his other hand, trying to feel sensation. He felt something cold and metallic. A pistol. He grasped it, unable to turn his head to look, so weak was he.
SIF-7. Same model as his own sidearm. He held it tight, trying to remember something.
Another shadow fell on him, closer. The whirring sound of another shuttle. He blinked, and saw clearly again. This next shuttle was hovering, with no space to land amidst the wreckage. Its bay doors were open, and a woman stood on its ramp, shouting something.
Issan?
His mind slowly pieced itself back together, and Anthysius managed to move his head again. He looked around for Argus, and saw him: he was against the wall, dueling the matron. She moved lightning-fast, her organic parts seemingly shredded by the exertions her mechanical components were moving. An unearthly wail emaneted from her as she attacked, then kept trying to turn away to Anthysius only for Argus to force her to defend herself.
She's after me, he realised. Obviously, but Anthysius' concussion had cleared enough that he realised the fight was here and
now. He pushed himself to his feet, SIF-7 still in hand. He made to move to Argus, but the warrior immediately caught his gaze and shook his head. He kept looking at Anthysius' sidearm.
And Anthysius knew what to do. He remembered the earlier fight in the mausoleum against the Jedi. He steeled his heart.
"
We have to go!" Issan's shouts finally coalesced in his ears. Several Imperial soldiers with her on the cargo ramp were trying to get a bead on the Kyja matron, but she was too fast, too deadly to hit with a mere blaster. Anthysius hobbled over to them. He heard the thunder of bombardment again, perhaps a mile off, but seeming to stomp closer and closer. He willed his legs to move faster. As he reached the ramp, he grabbed Issan's hand, who pulled him up and onto the ramp. Anthysius planted his feet on the ramp and turned, lifted his weapon, aimed at the duelling pair. He watched the woman batter Argus' blade aside and turn back to Anthysius. An unearthly roar issued forth, a Force Scream that knocked the shuttle dangerously off-balance, cut off only by Argus jumping onto her back and clamping her mouth shut with his free hand. His other held Anthysius' lightsaber.
"
What is her trying to do? Stab her in the front? Just strike her in the side!" Issan cursed. But Anthysius knew better. He aimed his pistol at his lightsaber, held out by Argus in front of the matron's chest. The world seemed to slow as Anthysius poured his concentration into his senses, aiming his shot, ignoring the encroaching bombardment. The particle beam seared forth in slow motion, striking true on the blade even as the matron's teeth gnawed through Argus' fingers and issued forth a Scream. But it was too late for her. The particle beam reacted violently with the lightsaber, and it detonated at the impact point, inches from her chest, with the force of a miniature fusion bomb.
The explosion sent Anthysius, Issan and the troopers flying back into the cargo hold even as the shuttle bounced about. Anthysius heard Issan shout for the pilot to go, to get out of the incoming bombardment, and then the world went black.
Srina Talon
- how this would be the end to his story. Blinding, raging fury that threatened to destroy the afterlife itself. He screamed into the void, tears turning to blood as his heart finally stopped. Its slow tremors turned to nothing - and the Sith Lord went limp in his lover's arms.
![center]](https://imgur.com/zOIcum2.png[/center])
