The Jedi And The Warrior

Hate Beyond Death

Flyra saw only the whirl of Malco's orange cloak, the throb of his scarlet saber as he raised it to ward against her sword – but too late.

She slashed her blade down, a blow that would have cut most warriors in half.

But her commander was already darting back, so that she only sliced through the dark tunic protecting his chest, just shy of the flesh she wished to cleave. He dragged his lightsaber through the dust, cutting a slice through the bones of the earth. But Flyra attacked, swinging her blade so hard that when it hit Malco's lightsaber it recoiled as though it were repulsed.

She did not look to see if Obi-Wan had obeyed. But there was no sound of retreating footsteps or of a struggle behind her – merely silence. As if the others were too stunned to move. Good.

Malco's teeth curled in a snarl. "Stop this now," he growled, but she just straightened her spine.

Flipped her sword. "You don't give me orders."

For answer, Malco just jerked his chin at the surrounding Warriors, and they attacked.

Flyra whirled, lifting her sword against Silva's onslaught and using the momentum to swing away from Fey's blade. But they were surrounding her, their blows too fast, and Malco just watched without a word as they drew in closer and closer. She had to keep them at arm's length, never let them come close enough to cut her. Already sweat gleamed on her brow and her hands shook. Flyra deflected Kai's blow and sent his saber colliding with Sol's, ducking below Samm's swing and sweeping out her leg to knock Fey's feet from under him. She plunged her sword through the boy's chest.

Scarlet blood sprayed, splattering like red snow across her face, and the world went silent.

Flyra stared at him, and the light died from his eyes – dead, and no more than twenty. Silva lunged with a cry, and her lightsaber sliced right through the metal of Flyra's sword.

She watched the lower half thud into the dust, clutching only a stump of a blade in her trembling hand. She let it fall, and the Warriors stepped back.

"You are stripped of your place in our ranks," Malco said from behind her, but Flyra just stared at Fey's dead body. "Stripped of any respect or friendship we might have held for you. You —" But his voice stuttered, enough that Flyra turned to him. His face was twisted with the same bitter hatred she'd seen at the temple on Tython. "You have become everything you threatened to be."

Obi-Wan still knelt in the sand across from her, his eyes wide. But her gaze lingered on Malco's as she said, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you have failed," he snarled, that loathing curling his lip and wrinkling his nose. "You were supposed to be good, young one. You were supposed to protect, not destroy innocent lives." There was a sick sort of delight in his eyes now, as his words sliced her to the core. "You were meant to meet me and hate me. You were meant to kill me. That is what I saw in the Crystal all those years ago."

A soft murmur went through the Warriors of Fate, still circling the two of them like jackals. The desert wind hissed across the sand.

"But you were such a fool," Malco crooned, and he moved closer to her. "So conflicted, so unbalanced. It was so, so easy to convince you to come to me. And then it was so easy to make you so afraid, you'd never dare raise a hand against me."

Flyra stared at him. The bastard. The bastard.

"No you're wrong," she snarled as they circled each other. "You could not have known I would go to Dantooine at the same moment you did, you could not have known that. I only went because Master Yoda sent me. I was never fated for anything."