“I need no authorization! My name is Lord Scourge, and I demand a meeting with the Emperor.”
From the reaction of the soldiers it was clear they recognized the name. No doubt every member of the Emperor’s Guard was aware by now that Scourge had been the catalyst for the Emperor’s sudden purging of the entire Dark Council.
“We will escort you to him,” the leader replied, lowering his weapon. “But the others must wait here.”
“No,” Scourge said. “They will come with me to speak with the Emperor in person.”
The soldier seemed on the verge of denying the request, and Revan mentally prepared himself to unleash his fury, but at the last minute the man relented … at least partially.
“Follow me,” he said. “I’ll ask the captain to meet us outside the throne room. She will decide whether to allow this.”
Revan was impressed by Scourge’s performance, not to mention relieved. On his last visit to Dromund Kaas, he and Malak had learned everything they could about the Imperial Guard. Though not attuned to the Force in the classical sense, the elite soldiers had a connection with the Emperor, allowing them to draw strength from the dark side. They were formidable opponents, even for a Jedi.
He’d feared they’d have to fight through dozens of the Guard before reaching the throne room, giving the Emperor ample time to prepare his counterattack. Now, however, they had a chance to take their adversary by surprise.
They were led down a twisting maze of corridors, a long and winding journey that Revan remembered from his last visit to the citadel. He and Malak had followed the same route, led by a Guard they had bribed for access, completely unaware that they were being led into a trap.
It was possible the same thing was being done to them this time, as well, but Revan didn’t think that was the case. The guard who had betrayed him and Malak had met with them numerous times before leading them into the citadel, no doubt reporting back to the Emperor after each visit. This time, however, events had moved too quickly and too spontaneously for the Emperor’s patient hand to be behind them.
As they drew closer to the throne room, Revan’s thoughts drifted back to his last confrontation with the Emperor. In all his battles, he had never faced an enemy with that kind of power. The dark side had radiated from him in palpable waves, his physical shell barely able to contain the crackling energy.
In their last meeting he had overwhelmed Revan completely; it wasn’t even fair to call it a battle. Revan had grown since then. He was far more powerful now, but was he a match for the Emperor?
Alone, probably not. With the combined strength of Meetra, Scourge, and even T3, however, he believed they stood a real chance of victory.
Despite this, he still felt a chill in his gut when he saw again the enormous durasteel doors of the throne room. They were shut, of course, but he knew all too well what lay beyond.
“Where is your captain?” Scourge demanded, and Revan realized there was nobody there to meet them.
“She is coming,” the Guard assured him.
“I will not be kept waiting,” Scourge snarled, continuing to play his part. “I demand you open these doors immediately!”
The soldier hesitated, then motioned for two of his men to do as Scourge had commanded.
Revan braced himself for what was to come. They had discussed this part of their plan before leaving the cave. The instant the doors were pushed opened, all four would charge inside. While Revan rushed the Emperor, Meetra and Scourge would hang back and hold off the guards long enough for T3 to close and seal the doors.
Their timing had to be almost perfect; Revan knew he couldn’t go toe-to-toe with the Emperor by himself for very long. He sensed Meetra tensing beside him, and his own hand drifted to the hilt of his lightsaber beneath his belt in anticipation.
“What is going on here?” a female voice called out from behind him.
The two soldiers who had been about to push open the heavy durasteel doors froze in place.
“Captain Yarri,” said the man who escorted them in, snapping off a sharp salute. “Lord Scourge demands another meeting with the Emperor.”
Revan was standing with his back to the captain, but he didn’t need to see her face to recognize the name: Yarri—the Guard who had led him and Malak into the Emperor’s trap.
“This is not acceptable, Lord Scourge,” she said, the heels of her boots clacking as she approached. “If you wish to speak with the Emperor, you must do so alone.”
“I do not take orders from you, Captain,” Scourge said.
“In the citadel you do,” she answered. “You other two and the droid, step away from there.”
Revan had been carefully facing away from the speakers during the entire conversation, his eyes fixed on the massive doors. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder as one of the soldiers tried to pull him clear of the entrance.
He slapped the hand away and turned to face them. Yarri was standing beside Scourge, a few meters away from the rest of the group. She had come alone to meet them, bringing their escort up to a total of seven.
The captain’s eyes went wide with shock as she saw his unmistakable red-and-gray mask.
She gasped, then shouted out, “Assassins! Kill them all!”
Revan lashed out with his foot, delivering a side kick to the chest of the guard who had grabbed his shoulder, sending the man stumbling back. T3-M4, his electrical circuits instantly processing the situation, reacted by firing off his built-in blaster; the beam struck the soldier square in the chest. At the same time, Meetra threw herself at the two guards standing in front of the doors to the throne room, her lightsaber materializing in her hand.
Ordinary soldiers would have been chopped down before they could even draw their weapons, but the Imperial Guard were not so easily felled. The first soldier met her charge and parried the first strike with his electrostaff, the resilient metal of his weapon deflecting the energy blade of the Jedi off to the side so that it carved a deep scar in the wall.
The second soldier leapt into the fray, forcing Meetra to fall back a step to absorb their coordinated attack. Slightly farther away, Scourge and Captain Yarri were also already engaged in close-quarters combat, his lightsaber clashing against her electrostaff as they battled in the narrow confines of the entrance hall.
An alarm began to ring out in the hall, triggered by one of the other three soldiers. Before they could join in the fight, Revan thrust his hand, palm up, in the direction of the sealed durasteel doors, blasting them wide open with the power of the Force.
“Into the throne room!” he shouted, rushing forward.
One of the guards battling Meetra broke off and tried to cut Revan off. The Jedi gathered himself and leapt high in the air, tucking his knees in tight to somersault over his opponent. The guard reacted to the unexpected move a fraction too slowly, his electrostaff slicing through the air above his head and missing Revan by only a few centimeters.
Revan landed on the ground and wheeled around to face the other man. He thrust out with the Force, the impact hitting the soldier square in the chest. Instead of sending him flying, it only staggered him back half a step—this close to the Emperor they were sworn to protect, the guards were able to draw on his power to protect themselves.
Still, the slight stumble gave Revan enough time to draw his lightsaber and go on the offensive. He came in with a high, overhand chop—an obvious feint meant to draw the defenses of his opponent upward, leaving his legs exposed to a quick follow-up strike.
The guard recognized the familiar ploy, countering it by parrying the overhand chop then quickly dropping his blade low to intercept the inevitable slash at his legs. Only Revan didn’t go for his legs. Anticipating that his opponent’s defenses would go low, he kept his blade up high, allowing him to end the battle with a horizontal cut across the man’s suddenly exposed throat.
T3 had followed him into the throne room, but Meetra and Scourge were still locked in battle with the guards in the hall out
side. They were waging a fighting retreat; they had maneuvered themselves so they could back into the throne room while keeping the guards at bay.
At the far end of the hall, another half a dozen of the Imperial Guard rounded the corner. Revan reached out with the Force and ripped the vaulted stone archway in the ceiling above them free from its setting. A shower of dust and debris rained down on the reinforcements, sending them into temporary retreat.
It wasn’t enough to block the passage, but it did buy Scourge and Meetra a few precious seconds to complete their retreat into the chamber. They crossed the threshold, still engaged with Captain Yarri and the three surviving Imperial Guard that had escorted them to the throne room.
Revan reached out with the Force and slammed the durasteel doors shut, the clang echoing loudly in the throne room.
“Seal the doors!” he shouted at T3. Then he turned his attention to the other end of the throne room.
The Emperor was seated on his throne, watching the proceedings with cold detachment. Revan felt the same chill he had experienced the last time he had come into the Emperor’s presence, the physical manifestation of his enemy’s malevolent power.
“I did not expect you to return,” the Emperor said, rising to his feet.
Revan didn’t bother to reply as he charged forward.
SCOURGE WAS AN EXPERT SWORDSMAN; at the Academy even the instructors had been reluctant to face him in the training ring. When the dark side flowed through him, his blade was more than a weapon. It became an extension of his will.
Captain Yarri’s skill with her electrostaff was impressive, but ultimately she was no match for a Sith Lord. Knowing this, she had wisely adopted a defensive style to hold off the first few flurries of Scourge’s attack, her focus on stalling him long enough for one of her companions to join the fray before switching to a more aggressive form.
Now Scourge was forced to defend himself on two fronts as he backed into the throne room. In his peripheral vision he saw that Meetra was in a similar situation, retreating while battling a pair of enemies.
The fact that Revan hadn’t come to their aid told Scourge that the Jedi had gone to confront the Emperor, conjuring up images from Scourge’s vision of him lying broken and beaten on the floor at the Emperor’s feet.
Yarri’s staff slipped through his defenses and clipped him on his right shoulder. Scourge’s armor absorbed the worst of the blow, though he felt a painful jolt from the electrostaff’s charge that made his hand and arm tingle.
Even as Scourge cursed himself for allowing thoughts of his vision to distract him, he deftly switched his blade from his temporarily numb right hand to his left. The move was dangerous; it left him momentarily vulnerable as he made the switch. Fortunately his opponents were unprepared for the unorthodox tactic, and neither was able to take advantage.
While he and Meetra fought the quartet of guards, T3-M4 was busy sealing the doors. The droid was spraying black foam along the edge where the double doors came together. Scourge recognized the foam as a powerful contact adhesive commonly used to repair starships; seconds after being exposed to air it would harden into a substance that could be cut only with a plasma torch.
Yarri’s blade nearly caught him again, narrowly missing his cheek, and Scourge swore out loud. If he didn’t stay focused on the fight, his vision of the Emperor killing him wouldn’t even have a chance to come true.
“Go help Revan!” Meetra shouted to T3 as the astromech finished his task.
Scourge pressed his attack, calling on the dark side to transform his uncertainty and fear into white-hot rage. He felt the power coursing through him, the spark of fury deep inside him igniting into a firestorm of death and destruction.
Left-handed, Scourge unleashed a pair of savage chops at Yarri’s partner, using raw brute strength to overpower his physically weaker opponent. The guard parried the blows, but the first knocked him off balance and the second sent him stumbling backward.
While the guard struggled to recover, Scourge focused his assault on the captain. Yarri sensed the shift in her opponent too late to switch back to a more defensive form, and the Sith Lord was quick to exploit the tactical flaw.
A four-move sequence overwhelmed Yarri, causing her to leave her right flank unprotected. Scourge seized the opportunity, his blade biting deep into her hip. Yarri screamed, dropped her blade, and fell to the ground. The other guard leapt to her defense, recklessly throwing himself between his fallen captain and Scourge. The only reward for his effort was a quick death, delivered by a diagonal lightsaber slash across his chest.
At Scourge’s feet, Yarri fumbled to reclaim her weapon. The agony of her wound made her desperate and clumsy, giving Scourge time to relish her suffering. As her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her electrostaff, he brought his boot down on top of her hand, crushing the bones.
He stared into the captain’s eyes one last time, savoring her terror before decapitating her with a single stroke.
“We have to help Revan!” Meetra shouted, and Scourge turned to see that she, too, had just finished off her opponents. “He needs us!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
AS MEETRA AND SCOURGE BATTLED the Guard, Revan charged toward the Emperor.
His opponent stood perfectly still, focusing and channeling his power. At the last possible instant, the Emperor unleashed a wave of energy that swept Revan off his feet and sent him flying backward.
Revan twisted in midair so that he was able to roll with the impact when he landed. He quickly sprang back to his feet and advanced again, moving more slowly this time.
The Emperor stood in the exact same position as before; it was as if he hadn’t even moved. Revan began to sense the oppressive presence of the dark side weighing down on him. The Emperor was trying to crush his will: to dominate and enslave his mind as he had before. This time, however, Revan was ready.
Instead of charging forward, he opened himself up to the Force, letting both the light and the dark side flow through him like twin rushing rivers. But instead of focusing or channeling the Force, he released it in its purest form.
There was brilliant flash as the air between the two combatants lit up. The energy unleashed was powerful enough to send Revan staggering. The Emperor, unprepared and with much of his strength diverted to his effort to dominate Revan’s mind, was sent flying backward.
He landed in a heap on the floor and Revan raced toward him. The Emperor rolled over, lifted himself up on one knee, and his hands flew forward as he hurtled a bolt of dark side lightning at his enemy.
Revan intercepted the bolt with the blade of his lightsaber, though the impact stopped his charge dead in its tracks.
The Emperor unleashed three more bolts in quick succession. Revan batted the first aside with his lightsaber, ducked the second, then deflected the third back in the direction of its source.
It struck the Emperor in the chest, sending him sliding several meters back on the floor. For the first time the Sith’s emotionless veneer cracked as he let out a primal hiss of hate. The sound sent shivers down Revan’s spine.
The Emperor rose to his feet, his robes smoking and singed where the lighting had struck him. His black eyes flashed red, and he raised both hands high above his head.
Revan knew he was gathering his power to unleash a swirling storm of pure dark side energy, just as Nyriss had done. The Jedi quickly calculated his options. Realizing he couldn’t close the gap between them quickly enough to stop the assault, he gathered his own energy and spread his hands before him, ready to catch and absorb the Emperor’s attack.
A dozen bolts of purple lightning arced from the Emperor toward him. Revan tried to draw them in and contain them, but the Emperor was infinitely more powerful than Darth Nyriss had ever been.
Revan’s body was engulfed in agony as the electricity coursed through his body. His skin began to boil and blister, the flesh of his face melting and sticking to the superheated metal of his mask as the Emperor poured more and more po
wer into him.
Through the haze of indescribable pain, he saw T3-M4 rushing in to help him. The droid let loose with his flamethrower, bathing the Emperor in fire. At the last instant the Emperor cocooned himself in the Force to save himself from being incinerated, breaking his focus on Revan.
The Jedi collapsed to the ground, burned but still alive, the hilt of his extinguished lightsaber lying on the floor less than a meter beyond his grasp.
Almost too weak to move, Revan managed to raise his head just in time to see the Emperor turn on the brave little astromech. A tremor rippled through the air as the Emperor unleashed the full power of the Force against the defenseless droid.
T3 never stood a chance. The little droid exploded into a million pieces, internal circuits and external casing obliterated in a single instant.
“No!” Revan screamed from the ground as bits of his friend rained down on him in the form of unrecognizable shrapnel.
He tried to rise, but his injured body refused to respond. Instinctively, he called on the Force to give him strength and heal his wounds.
The Emperor was approaching him with calm, purposeful steps. Once he reached Revan’s side he calmly bent down and picked up the Jedi’s fallen weapon, igniting the blade.
The healing properties of the Force were powerful, but Revan’s wounds were severe and he needed more time to restore his strength. Helpless, he could only stare up at the Emperor as he raised the lightsaber to deliver the killing blow.
EVEN AS SHE CALLED to Scourge to help, Meetra was already sprinting toward the far end of the throne room. Scourge hesitated before joining her, taking a moment to survey the situation, memories of his vision of their failure still fresh in his mind.
What he saw was not good. Revan was being electrocuted, his body spasming uncontrollably as the Emperor blasted him with dark purple lightning.
Revan’s astromech launched a jet of flame at the Emperor, freeing Revan, who collapsed to the ground. In retaliation, the Emperor disintegrated the offending droid, strode over to where Revan lay, and picked the vanquished Jedi’s lightsaber up off the floor.