Abattoir/Part 4

Two weeks earlier

Alecto did not for a moment believe the unreadable Anzati and half-hysterical offworlders who swore that the Temple of Shadows could only be found in the light of the full moon, but she had to admit the sight was impressive. The sandstone edifice sprawled over nearly a square kilometer of crags and escarpments; Alecto was sure the Anzati had leveled a rock form or two, but by and large they had built their fortress with the terrain, and its walls zigzagged up the rocks. Parts of the walls were bleached by lichen since scrubbed clean, but the dark sandstone was largely uniform in its ridges and indentations, sweeping the long curtain walls and rising in prangs and towers with lotus bud tops; they jutted from the light mist like little stone islands in a moat. From a distance she saw more towers than she could easily count, long galleries and colonnades, and enough intricate stonework and statuary to easily conceal a hundred defenders.

And even from this distance, she could feel the temple's power.

"A monument to the dark side," Zeff voiced her thoughts.

"So is Aresh's Purity," Alecto retorted. "That doesn't make it our ally. Yet.  Come on."

They picked their way down what passed for a road—the Brotherhood seemed to have little need for supplies, for they had not made the way easy—and Alecto watched Zeff from the corner of her eye. The Ubese had proven himself reasonably talented, apart from his noteworthy failure to kill Narasi Rican, and he had made a show of both shock and, once it wore off, indignation at having been left to die in the government center by Lady Gasald's other Sith—just enough of a show that Alecto suspected it was an act. She accepted that the Council of Five might find ways to castigate Gasald for the botched invasion of Milagro, but forcing her to part with a single Acolyte was little more than a gadfly sting to a Sith Overlord, particularly in comparison to Darth Saleej being compelled to "offer" three of his Darths on loan—and especially since he had only gotten two back, and only one in fighting shape.

Darth Saleej had been feeling Vandak's defection, but Alecto's sufferings were worse still. Sane—or as sane as a merciless psychopath could ever be—he had been one of her most valuable allies. Worse, she had been so close to strengthening their alliance; against all their suspicions (and, in truth, her own mounting doubts), the Jedi had been on Milagro, and she had delivered the murderers of his precious brother right into his hands. But instead of slaughtering them all, the Sith had failed to take their quarry; even Sil Kadych had still been alive when he was carried from the room, if one could call that living. Kadych's incapacitation was something as a consolation prize, but the cost had been far too high.

Alecto remembered dragging Hokhtan from the room after her tense standoff with Kal-Di. Would the Jedi dare it?, she had wondered. He and Darakhan had both looked close to death, but they had overcome Vandak, and Alecto wasn't sure she could have beaten them both. Trapped amidst the flames, every breath agonizing, it would have been harder for Kal-Di to end the duel non-lethally twice…

Alecto gritted her teeth; she would not dwell on that yet again. She hopped down a small cliff, cushioning her fall with the Force. "Do you see a door?"

"I suppose they don't need to make them obvious," Zeff reasoned, his voice mechanized through his helmet's vocoder. "They know how to get in, and they don't want visitors."

It stood to reason, but that being the case, Alecto wasn't sure how the Anzati would react to her simply scaling the wall and waltzing into their headquarters; they had not built it days from what passed for civilization on Anzat to host guests. She studied the walls for a moment; the architect seemed to have some moral aversion to smooth surfaces. Then she sat down on the gravelly ground. "Keep watch."

And she reached into the Force.

The ache of the triumph that had been snatched from her those months ago on Milagro meant rage was never far from her call, but her powers seemed amplified here; she thought the temple had simply been waiting for her to ask for its help. Had the old Sith built this, or was Vandak not the first master of the dark side to rise from the mist and shadows of the planet of soul eaters? Alecto felt her spite for the others aboard the Unquenchable Fire deepening; in this place of power, she knew she could bend Vandak's minions to her will.

"My lady."

Alecto opened her eyes and found her lips peeled back from her teeth. Zeff recoiled slightly from her expression, but then gestured, and Alecto shifted her gaze to follow his finger. The moonlight silhouetted three humanoid forms on the nearest tower, and she felt their eyes on her.

She rose and beckoned to them, gritting her teeth when they did not respond at once to her. Patience, she told herself, but it was hard; the Anzati took their sweet time before they finally descended, springing nimbly from parapet to gargoyle to outcropping before they landed before her. They wore curious masks, mouths and noses covered but eyes and cheeks exposed. She could see hunger in those inhuman eyes, hiding there in the recesses behind the wariness and hostility.

"You know who I am?" she asked.

"I know that your soup is rich," one of them replied; evidently he could smell through the fabric of his mask, for her took a long, deep breath through the broad nose beneath.

He took a step forward, but one of his comrades restrained him at the same time Zeff reached for the lightsaber on his belt; Alecto didn't move to stop him, but he took the hint and kept the inactive hilt in hand. "Her soup is rich," the second assassin agreed, and Alecto was surprised to hear a female voice, "but her blade will burn all the hotter for it."

"The Jedi's blade burned on Ord Marsax," the first argued. "He died all the same."

"If you insist on dying, try your best," Alecto said disdainfully. "But I'm Darth Alecto, and I'm here to see Azeroth Seji, not you."

All three Anzati looked at her, then at each other. They had a rapid conversation in Anzat while Alecto crossed her arms and Zeth looked at each of them in turn; she could feel his tension as he readied himself for some sudden attack. Would the temple empower them too? All Anzati had some touch of the Force, she knew, although she had never yet met one as powerful as Vandak.

After a moment they looked at her in unison. "Come."

Two of them darted up the wall with the agility of mountain goats, kicking off footholds Alecto couldn't have found with full daylight and blueprints. The third beckoned and jogged off into the tree line. Alecto followed, ducking under low branches and avoiding the predators she could feel watching her…at least the non-sentient ones. Their Anzat guide ran on, but Alecto sensed more than two observers following their progress.

The masked assassin led them past a squat tree wider than Alecto was tall, and they emerged into a little glen surrounding the first gate Alecto had seen; the saw the moonlight on the fog of the courtyard through the other side, but only darkness in the tunnel itself. The Anzat gestured her forward.

"You first," Alecto said.

"I am of the Brotherhood." Alecto heard the sneer in his voice. "I do not pass through the gates like a commoner."

Alecto narrowed her eyes, but decided it wasn't worth the argument. Let them feel the masters of their sanctuary for now. She started forward, but her feet refused to carry her more than a few steps; she felt…indignant? Insulted, somehow. She took another step, and at last warning crept in alongside the offense. She studied the gate…

"Are you coming, witch, or not?"

Alecto cast about until she spotted a rock about the size of her chest. Waving her hand, she sent it rolling into the darkness…and it dropped through a trapdoor. She sent a second, smaller rock through at chest height, and watched the silhouettes of two hooks snap soundlessly from the dark. Zeff clutched his armpits on reflex, and Alecto turned her eyes on their guide.

He studied her for a moment. "You're not without instinct. Come."

He scaled the wall without waiting, and Alecto followed after a moment. She did not think the gate was truly some esoteric test, but if she was to bring the Brotherhood to heel, it couldn't hurt for them to have proper respect for her abilities. At the top of the wall, she gazed down on the misty courtyard below. Her Anzat guide dove into the mist, but Alecto frowned and studied the layout of the temple before following him along a wall, hopping from building to building when necessary, even catching a two-headed snake gargoyle and swinging when she had to. She laughed to herself, enjoying the athleticism almost as much as the frustration she sensed below.

Then Zeff's foot slid on the edge of a roof, and some sandstone gave way. His arms windmilled and he started to fall, and the dark side nudged Alecto. A spy, it warned. ''You know Gasald planted him here. Let the Anzati deal with him.''

It was tempting…but this was not a place Alecto wanted to be alone. She reached out with the Force and steadied Zeff until he seized an empty plinth to pull himself back up. There was a hiss from below.

Zeff looked down at it, then turned his helmeted face up to her and nodded once. Alecto gave him a cool nod in return, then resumed her run.

The Temple of Shadows arced slowly up the mountainside, but the largest building was not built at the highest wall, but slightly off-center of the complex. Alecto made for it, landing on a roof nearby and studying it. It was by far the largest and tallest structure; had it been a true temple, she thought, its holiest rites would have been performed inside. Light glowed from a dozen of the stone windows—she had seen neither durasteel nor transparisteel yet—and five lotus bud towers crowned the structure. Even the moonlight could not bleach this building; did it seem to drink the light because its stones were so dark, or was Alecto seeing beyond the mundane?

She leapt and touched down halfway up the building's narrow stairs, and Anzati slunk out of the mist behind her, their eyes reflective in the moonlight. Zeff landed on a wider stretch of stone a few paces away, taking his lightsaber hilt back in hand in warning. More Anzati emerged from hidden crannies above and alongside them, and Alecto started up the steps before they could be surrounded.

To her own surprise, she passed through the door unchallenged. The dark side sharpened her senses; every sound was clear, every breath brought her scents she had never processed before, and she saw the outlines of the hidden assassins before they stirred from the shadows. Alecto's interactions with Azeroth had been terse and infrequent even when he was in Vandak's service, but she thought she sensed something familiar as their mockery of an honor guard led them down a set of stone stairs. Alecto remained unhurried even as she sensed Zeff almost on her back; if they were anything like their erstwhile master, the Anzati could surely perceive fear.

The stairs continued down into the darkness, but the pair of Anzati guiding them stepped off at an intermediate floor, and Alecto sensed she should follow; go down into the darkness, she knew, and she would not come back up again. Two doors opened onto a grand hall with the first signs of ornamentation other than carved stone. A fire blazed in a humanoid-height fireplace forty meters away, but the table dominating the center of the room was not in silhouette, for glowpanels lined the walls where they met the stone ceiling; after the shadows and mist of the exterior, Alecto was almost disappointed at the missed opportunity for theatricality. The ceiling was a mosaic of tiles, streaks of green, blue, and purple mimicking the aurora Alecto and Zeff had beheld each night on their journey across Anzat; one twist of purple gleamed violet in the firelight, the exact shade of Alecto's eyes, and she opted to take it as a good omen.

The table itself was one of the largest Alecto had ever seen, perfectly circular and wide enough to seat dozens; other seats lined the walls. The table was seamless stone; Alecto realized it had to have been cut from a single block. Many of the wooden seats surrounding it were occupied, and several of the Anzati who had shadowed them in took the vacant chairs. A more lordly chair, crowned with the sculpture of a two-headed serpent, had its back to the fire; at first glance the others seemed identical, but when she looked more carefully Alecto saw they were all carved with images and runes, no two the same.

All the Anzati at the table had laid weapons before them, from as little as a single sword to a small arsenal, all pointed at the table's heart. The tall chair was vacant, but a red-robed man sat to its right, and Alecto recognized Azeroth. She nodded once; he took a moment to study her before nodding in return. "Why are you here?"

"Is that how you greet a Sith Lord, Azeroth?"

"It is a more generous greeting than I would give to most trespassers here," the Anzat returned.

The silent, judging eyes of Azeroth's horde of Anzati were becoming unnerving, but Alecto forced her voice to remain level. "But I get the benefit of your…courtesy because your master and I are allies?"

"You were allies," Azeroth corrected. "With Vandak, who was our master. No longer."

Alecto sensed mixed emotions among the Brotherhood, though none quite to the level of open defiance. She gauged Azeroth's emotionless stare and changed tacks on the fly. "You abandoned him after Milagro," she accused. "Brotherhood isn't quite as lifelong among Anzati?"

Azeroth gave a little exhale through his broad nose, as if he was going to snort but didn't find her worth the full effort. "Vandak is no longer one of us. He allowed himself to be mutilated by lesser beings, disgraced and ruined.  No such man will ever lead the Brotherhood."

"And will you say that to him when he comes back here?" Alecto challenged. "I notice you haven't had the courage to defy him to his face."

"Have you?" Azeroth shrugged. "Could Vandak defeat me still? Yes, perhaps.  Perhaps he might slay many of us before we could bring him down, but that isn't the point.  The Brotherhood does not kneel to strength alone."

He leaned forward and arched a dark brow. "If Darth Saleej sent you here with some threat for us, now would be the particularly ironic time to deliver it."

"My master has no desire to destroy the Brotherhood," Alecto answered, choosing her words with care; the Brotherhood might not respect strength alone, but that did not mean it devalued strength at all. "He hopes we can continue our partnership, to our mutual benefit."

"Darth Saleej commands a diplomatic mission," Azeroth asked with a vaguely amused smile, "and as envoy he sent you?"

"I volunteered," Alecto countered, keeping her temper. "We know one another."

"I know you as the upjumped little schemer Vandak humored with his attention," Azeroth scoffed. "But Vandak is not here to protect you anymore, little girl. I suggest you and your plaything leave now.  For the sake of our…old acquaintance, we shall give you one day's head start."

Some of the Anzati seated along the walls rose, and Alecto felt their predatory hunger. Zeff shifted a step closer to her, and Alecto watched a hundred eyes follow the movement. Raising a hand to still him, she said, "You lead the Brotherhood now, Seji?"

"I do."

"Then why not lead it to the Sith?" she asked. "Our interests are aligned—I can feel the dark side here. And we can offer you all the Jedi you could ever desire."

"And you alone can make this offer?" Azeroth asked. "Not, perhaps, Lady Gasald, who presses deeper into the Republic—and with more success, I might add? Not Lord Ko and his Furies, who could provide us a feast of Sith instead?"

Alecto saw the emerging threat. She had been playing on Darth Saleej's pride just a little, but it clearly wasn't baseless; without Vandak to keep his killers in line, they might gravitate to another Overlord, and how much more powerful would that Overlord be with dozens of nature's perfect murderers in her pocket? It did not help having Zeff and his questionable loyalties right beside her. Vandak had only told her a handful of the alleged successes of his brothers, none acknowledged in any public source, but Alecto's eyes swept the room again and she saw dozens of lightsabers and ropes of hair she recognized as Jedi Padawan braids hanging above the fire.

"Darth Saleej will sit on the Council of Five someday," Alecto promised. "You'd do well to court his favor now."

"Perhaps." Azeroth shrugged. "Or perhaps that seat will be Lady Gasald's. I'm told she is known to bestow…favor on those who support her as well."

He smirked without humor. "When I have decided where the Brotherhood will go, we shall ensure you know, Lady Alecto. Perhaps we will send you a holo.  Or perhaps I will send one of my brethren to visit you." He smiled in threat. "Farewell."

The Anzati who had risen from the walls started toward them, and Alecto gritted her teeth. She had to strike at once, or lose any chance and return to the Unquenchable Fire in disgrace. "Vandak saw that service to Darth Saleej was best, for him and all of you. If you're too blind to see it, Azeroth, perhaps the Brotherhood needs new leadership."

The assassins advancing on her froze, though Alecto sensed it was more in shock and fury than intrigue. The Anzati seated at the table stirred as well, some laying their pale hands on the weapons lying before them. Azeroth just stared back without a change of expression. "And who is to lead us? Even if you can kill me, do you think one of my brethren will simply rise to my station and kneel in submission?  Did you not hear me when I spoke of strength alone and how empty it is?"

"Why should you lead, over any of them?" Alecto retorted. "You aren't Vandak; you aren't a Sith Lord."

"I have delved into the depths of the Abattoir, little girl. I have endured the deep darkness and emerged in triumph.  Deeper than any of my brethren have dared to go."

"Deeper than Vandak?"

The tic was small, just a little tightness around those dark eyes, but Alecto knew at once she had found a chink in his armor. Some of the Anzati glanced at the high-backed chair, and Azeroth looked among them; Alecto sensed just a whisper of wariness beneath his bored hostility.

"What is the Abattoir?" she asked.

The Anzati looked at each other, seeming to weigh the revelation of their secret. Azeroth grimaced, but before he could speak a white-haired Anzat sat forward in the chair on the other side of Vandak's vacant throne. "The Abattoir is the Brotherhood's proving ground," he said; his voice was a papery whisper, but every Anzat held total silence to listen. "Where the weak die and those fit to be counted among the Brotherhood emerge victorious. Few are fit."

"And Azeroth has spent more time there than the rest of you?"

"It is not a matter of time," Azeroth said, a razor in his voice now. "The Abattoir has levels, each deadlier than the last. A true member of the Brotherhood will survive to reach the second."

Alecto looked at the Anzati seated along the walls, in a place of membership but clear secondary status. "And how many levels are there?"

"Seven."

Alecto took a deliberate step toward the table; the Anzati nearest her touched their weapons, and she gave them a nexu's smile before looking back to Azeroth. "And you've dared how many, Azeroth? Two?  Three?"

"Six," he growled.

"Couldn't quite summon the courage for that last level?"

Azeroth did not rise or lean forward, but his fingers curled into claws, and he clutched the arms of his chair. "Spoken like a spoiled little Sith who has never tasted true struggle—never been both hunter and hunted, truly known the danger of the dark and embraced what it is to be of the shadows."

Alecto strode to the table and laid her hands on the stone surface between two chairs. The Anzat on one side watched her in silence; the other hissed, and she spared him a look before turning her eyes back to Azeroth. "You have no idea what I've been through," she snarled. "I've endured worse tests than any you could ever give me."

Azeroth placed his palms on the table too and whispered, "Prove it."

The Anzati around the table began muttering to one another in a mix of Basic and Anzat. Alecto narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"If you are so brave and mighty, Darth Alecto, descend into the Abattoir. Brave its perils.  Perhaps you might prove yourself equal to the least of us."

"Disgraceful," an Anzat snapped. "Only alien fodder are released into the Abattoir; it is not for them to be counted among us."

"Oh, I won't settle for being the least of you," Alecto warned. She looked at Azeroth. "Seven levels, you said. And you lead because you've braved the sixth, deeper than any of your brethren have gone."

When he nodded, Alecto added, "But Vandak ruled because he went deeper still—to the seventh level?"

The white-haired Anzat answered. "Only one who gazes on the Heart of the Abattoir and survives rules the Brotherhood. Azeroth leads us because Vandak has failed us, and no other living being has seen the Heart of the Abattoir."

"And what if I do?"

Alecto remembered laying down her bold promise in Darth Saleej's council, and the mocking laughter of her comrades. Somehow, the total silence of the Anzati was worse; she felt those cold eyes on every side weighing her and finding her wanting. Many of them thought of her as prey, she understood; tantalizing prey, given her power. If Azeroth gave the word to unleash them on her, could she and Zeff kill them all? Could they even escape?

"Disgrace, I say it again." The Anzat assassin slammed a fist on the table. "This creature will never be worthy to lead the Brotherhood."

"Why?" Alecto asked, her temper fraying. "Because I'm a woman?"

"And why should that have anything to do with it?" asked a high, distinctly feminine voice. Alecto looked at the other side of the table and saw a female Anzat only a few seats down from Azeroth, studying her strangely.

"It is called Brotherhood in your Basic tongue," the white-haired Anzat noted, "but Shagzbad in Anzat…it does not have this meaning of gender. Any Anzat may be among us, and any may lead us."

"Exactly," the belligerent Anzat said with a pointed finger. "Any Anzat. You aren't, alien.  How many years have you seen?  Fifty?  Sixty at most?"

That was less than flattering, but she supposed Anzati had a dim concept of other species' aging. "Twenty-seven."

He laughed nastily. "No Anzat you see here has seen less than a century." He glanced at one along the wall, then back. "And most more than two. You're little more than a child."

"And it chills you, doesn't it?" Alecto taunted. "That an alien child could do what you can't."

"You will never see the Heart of the Abattoir!" he swore, getting to his feet. "You will never profane the depths of Anzat with—"

Azeroth raised a hand, and his colleague fell silent with obvious reluctance, resuming his seat and glaring daggers at Alecto. Azeroth looked around the table before turning his eyes back to Alecto. "You think yourself equal to Vandak who was our master, do you? You think where a thousand Anzati who have aspired have failed, you would succeed?"

In her secret heart Alecto knew she was not Vandak's equal, but her other choice—to slink meekly from the Temple of Shadows to beg Darth Saleej's forgiveness and take a seat at the end of the council table forever—was no choice at all. "And if I am? If I do what you can't and survive all the Abattoir can throw at me?"

Azeroth did not answer, and Alecto stood to her full height to look around at the members of the Brotherhood. "Well?" she demanded. "Is the Abattoir your test, or isn't it? If I face the Heart of the Abattoir, will the Brotherhood follow me?"

Alecto had sat on enough meetings of Darth Saleej's council to recognize when a group was waiting for one of its members to have the courage to speak first. She searched for a supportive face, but found many gazes unreadable or openly hostile. She passed Azeroth without consideration, but looked at the white-haired Anzat hard. He studied her back, steepling his fingers before brushing his pointed goatee in thought.

"I would," he said. "No alien has ever survived the Abattoir; I myself have not descended beyond the fifth level. She is not one of us…but anyone who can reach the Heart of the Abattoir has the spirit of a predator regardless.  If you reach the Heart of the Abattoir—and live to tell of it—I would follow you, Darth Alecto."

Whispered conversations broke out all around the table and along the walls. Zeff took the opportunity to lean in and whisper, "My lady, if none of them could—"

She raised a hand to silence him as the female Anzat who had spoken before raised her hand. "I've seen four levels of the Abattoir, and I don't wish to see more. You're a fool to challenge them all, but if you're skillful enough to succeed…I could serve an alien with that kind of talent."

"The Shagzbad Nkalyon is of Anzati," the obstinate Anzat protested. "I will follow no alien master, regardless of her skill. If a Jedi could pass through the Abattoir, would we follow him too?"

Other Anzati called their views, supportive and opposed, in Basic and Anzat both. Azeroth sat through it all in silence, but his cold eyes turned to Alecto, and she gave him a challenging smile. At length he raised a hand, but the conversation only dropped off. Alecto sensed his anger as he stood, and silence finally fell.

"I am not one to defy tradition," he purred. "And our tradition is clear. Survive the trials of the Abattoir, peer into its Heart, and the Brotherhood will follow you."

"But I am not blind to the novelty of this, either," he added in a reasonable tone. "If we are to accept an alien among us, it must be because she rules us. You must reach the Heart of the Abattoir, Darth Alecto; no less will suffice.  Should you fail, you die."

"And should you return to us in failure," he added with a smile, "we will complete the Abattoir's work for it. Are we agreed?"

A hundred pairs of eyes gleamed as the silent predators watched her. Alecto tossed her head to throw back her long hair and smiled. "Agreed."