Star Wars: Path of Destruction: A Novel of the Old Republic by Drew Karpyshyn

Author:Drew Karpyshyn [Karpyshyn, Drew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780345477361
Amazon: 0345477367
Publisher: LucasBooks
Published: 2006-09-26T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Bane’s challenge hung in the air, as if the relentless sheets of rain had somehow trapped his words. Through the darkness of the storm he saw the crowd part and Sirak step slowly forward.

The Zabrak moved with a quiet confidence. Bane had hoped the unexpected challenge might unsettle his enemy. If he could rattle Sirak, catch him off guard or confuse him, he would have an advantage before the fight even began. But if his opponent felt anything at all, he kept it carefully masked beneath a cold, calm veneer.

Sirak handed his long, double-bladed training saber to Yevra, one of the Zabrak siblings who always seemed to follow in his wake, then stripped off his heavy, rain-soaked cloak. Beneath his robes he wore a simple pair of breeches and a sleeveless vest. Without a word he held out his balled-up cloak and Llokay, the other Zabrak, scampered out from the crowd and took it from him. Then Yevra scurried in to return his weapon to his open and waiting hand.

Bane peeled off his own cloak and let it drop to the ground, trying to ignore the cold sting of the rain on his naked torso. He hadn’t really expected Sirak to be flustered by his challenge, but at the very least he’d hoped the Zabrak would be overconfident. There was, however, a ruthless efficiency in Sirak’s preparation-an economy and precision of movement-that told Bane he was taking this duel very seriously.

Sirak was arrogant, but he was no fool. He was smart enough to understand that Bane wouldn’t challenge him again unless he thought he had some plan for victory. Until he understood what that plan was, he wasn’t going to take his opponent for granted.

Bane knew he could probably beat Sirak now. Like Githany, he didn’t believe in the legend of a chosen one who would rise up from the Sith ranks: he was convinced Sirak was not, in fact, the Sith’ari. He didn’t want just to beat him, however. He wanted to destroy him, just as Sirak had destroyed him in their last meeting.

But Sirak was too good; he’d never leave himself exposed the way Bane had. Not at first. Not unless Bane somehow lured him into it.

Across the ring Sirak assumed the ready position. His rain-slicked skin seemed to glow in the darkness: a yellow demon emerging from the shadows of a nightmare into reality’s harsh light.

Bane leapt forward, opening the melee with a series of complex, aggressive attacks. He moved quickly … but not too quickly. There were gasps of astonishment from the crowd at his obvious and unexpected skill, though Sirak turned aside his assault easily enough.

In response to the inevitable counterattack, Bane let himself stagger back into a stumbling retreat. For a brief instant he saw his opponent overextend, leaving his right arm vulnerable to a strike that would have ended the contest right then and there. Fighting his own finely honed instincts, Bane held back. He’d worked too long and too hard to claim victory with a simple blow to the arm.

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