Bright Shadow Chapter 18

Previous Chapter: ***Chapter 17 - The Fateful Night***

***Chapter 18 - Shattered Memories***

The silence that blanketed the crowd of Imperials was eventually broken when Neris, surrounded by a group of Zhen’s followers screamed to the victorious pureblood. “Traitor! Murderer! He has killed our mentor!”

She unclipped her lightsaber and stepped forward with four more hooded and masked warriors, all with a burning intention to execute the one who murdered their master. Almost immediately, their advance was halted by Ambassa and a group of unmasked and uncloaked warriors who stood between their commander and the zealous group of warriors.

“You won’t be hurting him, Neris,” Ambassa defiantly told the red-haired dogmatist.

“You stand by him?” Neris asked. “Then you and your traitorous warriors must die along with him.”

Neris and her warriors began to approach again, but were once again halted when another twenty or so Imperials came to Vycerant’s defence. Their blasters were primed and aimed at the vengeful zealots, ready to defend their defiant leader to the death.

“Yeah, about that, creepy woman. You take another step and I’m gonna have to blow your senseless brains out,” mocked Corso, who stood alongside Hyke and Jerrad.
Before the tensions could boil over into chaos, Vycerant stood from the body of his former master, half limping from his injuries.

“Everyone, please! Listen to me!” he begged of the crowd that had not already pledged themselves to him. Jerrad picked up the pureblood and held him up as he struggled to stand. “You didn’t know Zhen like I did. He was willing to incur the deaths of millions to get his way. Including yours. He would sacrifice you all to the flames of war as long as it meant he got what he wanted.”

Neris raised an indifferent eyebrow. “So what? We are Sith. That is our way,” She said coldly.

Jerrad looked on at the pale woman in disbelief as he held his weakened commander over his shoulders. “You Sith types,” he said with disgust. “Are you that bloody brainwashed that you’d give your life for a dead man?” he asked.

“That’s what you never understood about Zhen, Kage,” Neris argued. “His ideas transcend life itself. The will of Zhen is immortal. He lives through us now. An I hear him telling me to cut you traitors into many, many pieces.”

Jerrad looked at Corso in shock and incredulity. “Told you she was crazy,” Corso said.

“He lied to all of you, my friends,” Vycerant pleaded. “No matter how benign his goals seemed, he was not who he appeared. He murdered prisoners for fun. He was a monster.”

From the sidelines came the voice of Basan, one of Vycerant’s own men. “So like the rest of us then?” he asked his commander sceptically. “We’ve killed thousands during our conquest, Vycerant. We can’t act like we’re any less guilty than he was.”

“You’re right, Basan,” Vycerant conceded. “We aren’t innocent. None of us. We’re just as bad as Zhen was. Which is why I am offering you a chance to escape this hell. Join me! Let us flee this place and make a fresh start somewhere in the galaxy where neither the Republic not the Empire will be able to find us!”

Before the crowd could contemplate Vycerant’s offer, the thunderous footsteps of Darth Nova split the crowd in two. He hastily walked through his men to the scene of the skirmish.

“What the hell is the meaning of this?” he bellowed, before noticing the body of Zhen at the feet of Vycerant and his followers. “Zhen… no… what the hell happened here?”

“He murdered him, my Lord,” Neris said as she pointed to Vycerant, like a child telling on their sibling to their parent.
“Did he now?” Nova asked as he drew his oversized crossguard lightsaber.

“Nova… I don’t want to fight you,” said Vycerant. “Don’t make a larger bloodshed than there’s already been.”

“You expect me to believe that, traitor?” Nova asked the pureblood. “Zhen was my prized pupil. You won’t be leaving this planet alive.”

Nova turned his attention to the crowd of conflicted Imperials that surrounded Vycerant’s followers and Zhen’s followers. “Anyone who stands with this man is as much of a traitor as he is. Make your decision now, dogs. What’s it gonna be?”

No one wanted to make the first step. A number of people crossed over to Nova’s side, but no one travelled over to Vycerant’s side. Vycerant felt his heart sink as Nova’s numbers grew. He knew if Nova had a face, he would have the most sadistic grin.

Yet one foot stood into the gap between the two groups of Imperials. A brave soul that caught the eye of everyone on Nova’s side. Basan, who was previously sceptical of Vycerant’s claim, stepped over to join the side of the injured pureblood. Vycerant raised his head, hopeful of other bold Imperials who would dare defy their cyborg master. Another foot stepped forward, the young Devrick, and pointed his blaster at a group of Imperials who refused to step forward. Soon another foot stepped forward. Then another. And another. Very soon, dozens of Imperials were making their way over to Vycerant’s side and aiming their weapons on their former allies. They grasped their blasters and lightsabers tightly, ready for what was to come.

Nova’s circuits overloaded with rage at his betrayal. He threw his lightsaber at Devrick who had dared defy his will. The crimson blade travelled through the air at immense speed to impale the soldier, but was blocked by another lightsaber. Vycerant’s lightsaber.

The young pureblood saved the life of the rebellious Imperial and had shown to the crowd his determination and courage, even with his extensive injuries. With this revelation, even more Imperials began walking over to Vycerant’s side. Soon, Nova and his remaining followers were in the minority.

“Ah, forget this!” he yelled. “Followers of Zhen! Avenge your master! Kill all the traitors!”

Neris led the masked cultists and loyalist soldiers in the charge against the rebellious Imperials. Ambassa and her warriors held back the onslaught of the devoted warriors, cutting down half a dozen of them within a minute. Nova battered Vycerant’s followers with his massive lightsaber, using it more like a club rather than a blade. As the carnage unfolded, Vycerant impaled a faceless zealot with his lightsaber and called to his men. “Retreat! Fall back to the transports!”

Vycerant’s devotees did exactly as he ordered. They fled from Nova and Neris, with a few remaining to act as a sacrificial distraction to buy Vycerant enough time to escape.

The legion of Vycerant’s followers trampled the sea of tents and made their way over to the four Eternity-Class transport ships. As they fled, they fired back against Nova’s soldiers who pursued with impunity and resilience.

Jerrad was the first to make it to the transport and ran up the open rampart of the closes shuttle, only to be kicked in the chest by an elderly Imperial with a knife in his hand. The dazed Kage attempted to fight back, but the experienced Imperial grabbed the Kage by the collar and held the knife to his throat.

As the rest of the fleeing Imperials arrived at the transports, Vycerant saw Jerrad held by the Imperial officer. The old man held his knife by Jerrad’s neck and silently threatened to kill Vycerant’s friend. It was Moff Garson.
“Garson you fool!” he shouted. “It’s over! Let him go!”

Garson remained unmoved and shifted his elbow in preparation to slice Jerrad’s neck, but he Kage refused to be executed by a mute Moff. He slipped underneath the hold of Moff Garson and forced the old man’s knife into his own chest. Jerrad wasted no time revelling in his kill of one of the most highly decorated men in the Sith army. He chucked the dying man off the ramparts and indicated his allies into the transport.
As the first of the shuttles filled with Imperials, Nova approached with his legion and used the force to bring the fourth shuttle tumbling down from its stabilisers and into the concrete gorund. The transport exploded as it impacted the surface and was crushed under the pressure of Nova’s malevolent potencies.

Vycerant watched in horror as the giant cyborg approached him. Before he reached for his own blade, he heard the voice of Devrick in his right ear. “Go, commander!” he shouted. “I’ve got him!”

“Devrick, no!” Vycerant shouted after the young soldier.

Devrick readied his blaster and launched a cable at the shoulder of the Dark Lord. Nova pulled in vain against the cable that was buried deep into his shoulder. Devrick pulled back and brought the Dark Lord to one knee. But Nova was not unwilling to die to a lowly soldier. He pulled on the string from Devrick’s position and the young man went tumbling into the concrete ground.

Before he could reach out and crush another of the transports, Ambassa leaped into the air and impaled the Dark Lord in the middle of his mechanical chest. The cyborg simply laughed at the pureblood woman and threw her to the ground. The exhausted woman found herself between the ground and Nova’s metal foot. To her incredible luck, she narrowly avoided being crushed when a lightsaber came flying at Nova’s leg and amputated the clump of alloy and circuits from his body. Looking up she saw a group of five Sith warriors charging at the crippled cyborg. They jumped onto the Dark Lord and sliced at every inch of his body, removing his remaining leg and his arms. Helpless and on the verge of shutting down, the last thing that the old cyborg saw was Ambassa being handed her dropped lightsaber by one of her warriors. He mockingly laughed a static laugh at the pureblood as the crimson blade was forced into his red eye socket, shattering his metal head and frying what was left of his mind.

Ambassa and her crew fought their way to Devrick and helped him up as they continued to flee towards the three remaining transports. But Devrick saw out of the corner of his eye, a red-haired woman that he knew far too well. The pale and soulless face of Neris sprinting towards them, with her lightsaber in hand and her eyes fixed on Ambassa. Ambassa was too busy fending off more warriors to notice the approaching attacker. As Neris lunged her blade towards the pureblood woman, she found her blade being plunged into the stomach of Devrick, who had jumped between the two. Ambassa turned with a look of horror on her face, to see the young soldier impaled with a crimson blade.

“Go!” he shouted to Ambassa before smashing his head against Neris’ knocking the red-haired woman unconscious. Devrick collapsed onto the floor next to Neris, his life exiting his body.
Ambassa had no time to mourn or do anything, other than flee with her men to Vycerant’s transport. All the massive shuttles were beginning their takeoff and Ambassa made it just in time. With Vycerant commanding the lead shuttle, Jerrad piloting the second and Corso leading the third, the rebelling Imperials made their way out of the Coruscant battlefield.

Vycerant laid in the middle of the bridge of his transport, with the Mirialan Hyke piloting the ship. Ambassa entered to see Vycerant on the floor and immediately ran to him.

“Get me a medic! Hurry!” she shouted to her warriors, before Vycerant began to regain consciousness.

“Commander! Commander wake up!” she begged Vycerant as he stood back up, ignoring his injuries.

He looked at Ambassa and the many Imperials who populated the bridge. Panting heavily like a feral animal, he stumbled his way to the controls where Hyke was delivering them out of the system, with Jerrad and Corso’s shuttles close behind.

“Vycerant! Vycerant come in! Please tell me you’re alive, damnit!” came Jerrad’s voice over the comms.

“I’m here, Jerrad. I’m… I’m here,” he said, exhausted and dreary.

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Jerrad, gratefully.

“Sir! We have a problem!” came Basan’s voice over the comms.

“What’s the situation Basan!” Vycerant asked.

“Zhen's fighter squadrons, coming for us from the northern hemisphere,” Basan replied, prompting Vycerant and his followers to look out the corner of the window to see at least a hundred fighters chasing after them. They all bore the sigil of Zhen’s regiment.

“Vycerant! Blaze,” shouted Jerrad’s voice once again, “I’m sending you coordinates. Prepare your jump to hyperspace to this location.”

A panel began to beep wildly next to Hyke, who opened the message and began calculating the jump into hyperspace. “Why these coordinates, sir?” the Mirialan asked.

“Will you just do it, Hyke? We don’t have time!” Jerrad hollered as Hyke looked at Vycerant for approval. Vycerant nodded silently, unsure about Jerrad’s plan but certain that they needed to get away from Coruscant as fast as possible.

The Sith fighters got closer and closer to the slow moving transports. They fired upon the shuttle at the rear, Corso’s ship. The engines crackled and imploded after being bombarded with laser-fire.

“Ahh, damnit!” Corso’s voice shouted out of the comms. “My engines are fried! I can’t keep up!”

Vycerant looked out the left window of the bridge and watched dreadfully as he saw Corso’s ship was falling behind as well as falling apart piece by piece. The onslaught of the Sith vessels continued and their firepower overwhelmed the shuttle and it’s burned out engines.

“Everyone, get to the escape pods!” Vycerant heard Corso shout over the comms.

“Blaze, what the hell are you doing?” Vycerant said to himself but was heard over the comms by the man himself.

“I’m doing what needs to be done, my friend,” he said.

At that moment, four small escape pods ejected from the side of Corso’s shuttle and landed safely into the docking bay of Vycerant’s ship. His crew had been saved, but Vycerant felt that there was one soul still onboard the dying ship.

“Corso, you’d better be on your way to the pods,” he said, half begging.

“Hah, I thought you were smarter than this kid,” Corso said. “This is the end of the line.”

Vycerant’s eyes opened wide. He heard Jerrad’s voice over the comms shouting at Corso and calling him all manner of names, pleading for him to get off the ship before it was too late. All Jerrad’s words went unreceived by Vycerant, who stared at the windows of Corso’s bridge, seeing the man himself lock in the engine at full power.

“You get out of here and save yourselves. Get away from the Empire. Far away! If you make it, well done. If ya don’t,” there was a brief silence. “Then I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Sir,” came Hyke’s voice from the pilot’s seat behind Vycerant, “we’re ready to make the jump!”

Vycerant shook his head distraughtly. “No! We’re not leaving without Corso! Corso you damned fool, what are you doing?”

“Saving your skins. I’ll say hi to your bright overlord, Jerrad,” Corso said jokingly over the comms. “Or your dark underlord. Whichever one of the unlucky bastards get me. Oh, and Ambassa. You are one mighty fine woman. Just had to let you know.”

Ambassa covered her mouth with a mixture of heartbreak and shock on her face. She and Vycerant peered out of the window before seeing Corso salute them goodbye before smashing the control panel with his rifle. The sparks were visible even from Vycerant’s point of view. Griefstricken, Vycerant pounded his hands against the window. Again and again he shouted Corso’s name. But it remained unheard by the man as his shuttle fell back into the clutches of the Sith fighters chasing him. The very last thing Vycerant saw of his friend was him pulling the ignition on the self-destruct controls.

The explosion was immense and as bright as the stars. The shockwave gave both the remaining shuttles a massive push, almost veering them off course. Hyke struggled to keep his vessel under control as dozens of Sith fighters were incinerated in the reactor explosion. The distraction was only temporary, however, as the rest of the Sith fleet began to break past the wall of blue and pink fire and set their sights upon the last two shuttles fleeing the planet.

Vycerant collapsed to his knees and laid his head against the wall. He turned to face his followers on the bridge; a sea of directionless people, relying on him to save their lives. Vycerant remembered what Corso had said to him on Voltrus Prime; You have hundreds of men in your regiment that are looking to you for leadership and courage. Their lives will be put on the line. You have soldiers to lead. The words echoed in his mind like a great bell had been struck. He would not dishonour his friend by letting the last of them die at the behest of the Sith.

“Make the jump,” he muttered, just loud enough for Hyke to hear him and immediately push the lever on his control panel. The bridge was almost immediately coated with sparkling blue and white from the hyperspace tunnel.
Ambassa and another warrior helped Vycerant up from his brooding on the floor. He shrugged them off and activated the comms. “Jerrad? Jerrad, please tell me you know where we’re going.”

The silence was brief, but Jerrad eventually responded. “Somewhere no one will find us.”

Vycerant deactivated the comms. There was nothing more to say. Only silence in the bridge as the two transports made their way to wherever it was that Jerrad was taking them.

Escaping the Empire at last. But leaving a piece of themselves behind.

\* \* \*

*A small sandstorm had engulfed the small village where Zhen had fled into in order to escape the Humanites. With Toras’ lightsaber in hand and tears running down his face, the young boy sprinted his way through a blanket of orange and yellow, barely being able to see where he was going. He heard the voice of Farveil and the other rogue Sith hunting him. They were uncomfortably close.*

*Seeking refuge under the roof of a seemingly abandoned small temple, the boy hid behind a pillar and listened for the footsteps and roars of his foes. Farveil’s voice was smothered by the sand and wind that surrounded them. The Humanites spread out, searching every crevasse they could sunder in their hunt for the boy.*

*Zhen pressed his way deeper into the temple, keeping his eye on the entrance of the holy site. He stepped backwards with care in each stride until he found himself backed up into the body of a meditating man. The cloaked and masked figure stood from his prayer and turned to face the boy who interrupted his worship. The armour he bore was spiked and brittle, like that of a trap laid by a hunter. His helmet looked like a faceless demon, evoking a great fear in Zhen, who stood still, trapped between this character and the Humanites.*

*“Go away child, do not interrupt the meditations of a Sith Lord,” the man said, making Zhen’s heart sink even lower. He trembled before the lord of darkness, but knew he had no choice but to plead for mercy, and help.*

*“Apologies, my lord,” said Zhen, in a voice much less intimidating than the Sith lord’s deep demeanour. “But I’ve got nowhere else to go. There are some men-”*

*“Do I look like I care?” the Sith bellowed, almost load enough for the Humanites to hear. “Leave this place before I cut you down with my-,”*

*The Sith paused for a moment, looking down at the object in Zhen’s hands. A beautifully crafted and barely used lightsaber. The dark lord approached Zhen from his alter and Zhen stood his ground. He knew he would have to gain the trust and appreciation of this lord to defeat the Humanites.*

*“Where did you get that blade?” the Sith inquired.*

*“From my mentor, sir,” Zhen stammered, trying to remain respectful.*

*“And where is your mentor?” said the Sith.*

*“Dead, sir,” Zhen said. “Killed by the Humanites.”*

*The Sith tilted his head to the right slightly upon hearing the name of the rogue enforcers. “The Humanites are here?” he inquired once again.*

*Zhen nodded, tightly grasping his decedent mentor’s lightsaber. The mysterious Sith lord knelt before the young boy, his helmet looking larger the closer he got to Zhen.*

*“Tell me child. Did your master ever teach you in the art of the duel?” he asked.*

*“A little bit, sir,” Zhen responded.*

*The Sith looked up outside the door and saw Farveil holding his ground in the sandstorm. The masked Sith unclipped his own two lightsabers from his hilt, catching the fearful eye of Zhen. “How about we go and show those Humanites what happens to those who defies the Empire.”*

*Zhen remained silent and once again nodded at the Sith’s offer. He took Toras’ lightsaber and ignited it, activating all three blades. The Sith activated his dual lightsabers, illuminating the dimly lit temple chamber. The two exited the temple together, standing side by side as they left the safety of the holy site behind and entered the dust strom. Farveil immediately saw the duo approaching him threateningly and called his men back to his side.*

*“Found a bodyguard, did you kid?” Farveil jeered as his four remaining men rallied behind him.*

*Kysus took the extra steps towards the Humanites long after Zhen had halted his advance.*

*“Well, well. Farveil, isn’t it?” he said. “About time you reared your bastard face. The Council put a hefty price on your head. Your crimes did not go unnoticed. I’m assuming that was the goal of your little group?"*

*“Of course. Not a crime to rid the land of inferior beings that hold us back from our true potential. Goodness, I have forgotten how dumb these Sith folk are,” Farveil said, standing up for his heinous beliefs whilst trying to tear down the Sith’s own ideology.*

*“Then there should be no quarrel here,” the Sith said. “I see no aliens around here. Simply lower your blades and I will take you before the Council for a pardon.”*

*Farveil laughed. “To be pardoned from life no doubt. To be twisted into those horrific Wanderers that haunt the halls of the Academy every night? Oh, I don’t think so. I outnumber you, Sith. We stand united while you stand with a small child.”*

*This time it was Zhen’s Sith partner that laughed. “United, huh?” he said. “I’ll show you united.”*
The man raised his hands into the air and launched a barrage of lightening into the air, turning the dusty clouds blue with the flame of thunder. The Humanite’s ignited their lightsaber’s ready for the Sith to launch another bolt against them. But no such attack came. Only Farveil kept him composure.

*“I just altered every Sith and Imperial within three clicks of this location. A small army will be coming to my aid within a few minutes. That is what unity is, Farveil, not mindless killings for a pointless cause. How do you like your odds now, Humanite?”*

*Farveil, amongst his now anxious and nervously fidgeting men, kept his calm. “Still pretty good seeing as I still outnumber you,” he taunted as the Humanites began to break rank and charged the lone Sith and his young follower.*

*Under his mask, the nameless Sith smiled a grim smile. “I am the Empire’s blademaster you fool. I outnumber you on my own!” he growled, rushing to meet the array of Humanite’s charging towards him.*
As the Sith fought sturdily against the masked enforcers, Zhen stood in the background, shaking in his boots and uneager to join the battle. The masked lord utilised the force to push away his opponents, all except Farveil, who held his hands up against the shockwave and kept his balance.

*“Fight for your life, child! Show me what you have,” the lord said encouragingly before impaling one of the Humanites with his crimson blades. Zhen stepped forwards and caught the attention of one of the three remaining minions, who sought an easy kill as opposed to the deadly blademaster.*

*Three times their blades met, with each one sending Zhen taking many steps backwards from his opponent. Desperate to survive, the young boy lunged forwards clumsily, letting his wrists get grabbed by the Humanite. He was lifted up by the faceless man who raised his blade to cleave the boy in twain, however, Zhen lifted his legs and kicked the man in the face, shattering his mask and making blood ooze out of his pale nose.*

*Zhen once again went for the kill, but was sidestepped by the Humanite, making him fall to the ground inelegantly. Once again, the Humanite raised his blade for the kill, but another blade was thrust into his back and out of his chest. His eyes burst wide open in shock as Zhen’s nameless saviour threw the corpse of the Humanite onto the floor.*

*“Fight harder, child!” he said, disappointed.*

*The Sith turned to face Farveil, who was storming towards him as his tow remaining followers stepped back, exhausted and afraid. The two men harshly clashed blades before the ground began to rumble beneath their feet. Both men looked to the clearing in the dust storm as a horde of Imperials and Sith approached their location. Enraged, Farveil pushed the helmeted Sith away from him as his two minions stood hopelessly against the mass of dark-side users approaching them.*

*Farveil led the Sith male away from the decisive battle. He leaped over the Sith and kicked him in the back upon his return to the soil. The lord dropped his lightsabers into the sand and Farveil moved in to impale the lord in the back with his saber. Using the force to grab one of his lightsabers, the nameless lord ignited the blade just in time to block Farveil’s blade. However, Farveil pushed down on the helpless Sith, his blade slowly inching towards the lord’s helmeted head.*

*The victorious disposition of Farveil was immediately cut short when he felt a burning sensation run itself through his back and through his heart. A crimson blade had pierced its was through the light armour of the swift-moving Humanite. He stumbled backwards in shock, kicking up the sand with him as the ground swallowed his body in the sandstorm.*

*The helmeted lord sat up from his close call with death to see the man who had saved his life; the shaven head of the blacksmith apprentice holding his decedent master’s lightsaber. Zhen stood tall above the lord as he held out his hand to help his new accomplice. The lord granted Zhen’s offer of help and he returned to his feet.*

*Behind the two warriors approached the horde of Sith and Imperials, victorious in their fight against the two other Humanites. Their dastardly order had finally been cleansed. As they surrounded their lord, he looked down on his young acquaintance, impressed and thankful.*

*“What is your name, young one?” the breathless lord asked.*

*“Zhen, my lord,” said the boy. “And yours?”*

*The Sith lord removed his helmet revealing a young and sweat-coated face. A veteran of many battles yet still young enough to not have felt a woman’s warmth.*

*“I am Darth Kysus. Master of Blades and member of the Dark Council,” said the Sith, finally revealing his identity.*

*Zhen looked around himself, still afraid of the sea of dark faces that surrounded him and his ally. “So what now Darth Kysus, Master of Blades and member of the Dark Council?” Zhen asked.*

*“Well, my young friend,” Kysus said with a grin, kneeling down to Zhen’s eye level, his pale face and yellow eyes striking Zhen with fear and respect. “I sense a strong power residing within you. And I feel it would be a disservice to your skills to leave it untapped. Come with me, and I will show you how to harness your essence. I will turn you into the greatest warrior the galaxy has ever seen.”*

*Zhen wasted no time in accepting this special offer. He nodded to Kysus and followed his new master when he stood and made his way through the ocean of soldiers and warriors that surrounded him. A dozen eyes were laid upon the new Sith prodigy. Newfound self-purpose and dignity was swept over Zhen as he followed his black-robed instructor Through an expanse of bodies they traversed through victoriously, filled with pride, they walked.*

*Towards the Sith Academy, they walked. Towards his dark future, he walked.*

***The End. For Now.***

Copyright Jacob Burbidge 2019