Vilas swept out with full force—and the energy blade buzzed through empty air. Because nothing had stopped the stroke of his sword, Vilas spun about like a slow tornado, tumbling and disoriented.
Zekk saw his opportunity to buy time. He shot up behind one of the larger meteoroids hanging in the center of the weightless arena and plastered himself to the rock surface, pressing his back against the rough stone.
He could hide here for a moment, and then come back fighting.
Inside the arena’s observation blister, Qorl remained standing while Brakiss and Tamith Kai both sat in padded chairs, watching their respective champions and hoping for a personal victory. Qorl tried to hide his uneasiness, but could not divert his attention from the two talented young opponents fighting viciously out in the zero-gravity chamber.
Tamith Kai’s eyes blazed with violet fire as she fixed upon the battle. She spoke out of the corner of her wine-dark mouth, mocking Brakiss. “Your boy has no chance,” she said. “Vilas is much more ruthless. I have trained him. Vonnda Ra has trained him. Even Garowyn has trained him. That young man is the culmination of our efforts on Dathomir. Why bother with this wasteful contest? Just give Vilas command of the new Dark Jedi.”
Brakiss sat, exuding outward calm, though Qorl could tell from the subtle reflexive expressions on his face each time the battle reached a new peak that this duel had filled the Shadow Academy Master with tension.
“Ah, Tamith Kai,” he said, “you forget that I trained young Zekk. That counts for more than all the schooling of all your Nightsisters put together.”
Tamith Kai tore her gaze away from the contest and glared at him. She gave a derisive snort.
“I think,” Qorl said, “that Tamith Kai has a point. This type of contest is an utter waste—no matter what the outcome, we still lose our second-best trainee, someone far superior to any of the others we keep.”
“This is a different kind of contest,” Brakiss said, as if explaining to one of his students. “Those other trainees know their places and will follow orders without second thoughts. These two, though … each thinks he is best. But only one can command. Only one can be the greatest warrior. If we allowed the loser to live, he would always resent the rule of the other—perhaps even try to undermine his authority. No, it is better that we see who is the stronger.”
Tamith Kai agreed. “Yes. It is good for the other Jedi trainees to see one of their number die. Only then will they understand the depth of our convictions … and realize that the Second Imperium may demand the supreme sacrifice of them, as well.” Brakiss nodded.
Qorl made no answer. He did not wish to argue with his two superiors. Obviously, both Brakiss and Tamith Kai believed in the process; who was he to question it? And even if one of the two contestants out there were to forfeit the battle in hopes of saving his life, it would be a terrible blow to morale. Surrender is betrayal, after all. Qorl leaned forward to watch the struggle.
But he still thought it a wasteful exercise.
Zekk tried to catch his breath. He couldn’t hide for long, of course—not in front of so many cheering spectators, who were growing more and more enthralled as the battle grew more vicious. His hands were slippery with sweat, and he knew he couldn’t afford to lose his weapon at the wrong moment during this battle. He would have to be alert and aggressive. Just to be certain, he locked his lightsaber in the on position and cast about in his mind for a plan that might let him take out Vilas once and for all.
Then, behind him through the rock, he heard a crackling sound and instinctively threw himself away just as Vilas’s blazing blade sliced completely through the meteoroid, leaving each chunk of tumbling rock with a flat edge that was so smooth it looked like a molten mirror.
If he hadn’t moved at the last instant, the lightsaber would have bisected Zekk just as it had the meteoroid!
He turned in the air to see Vilas hurtling toward him, slashing again. Zekk raised his blade to meet the other lightsaber, and their edges crossed in a shower of sparks. They pushed against each other, but found nothing for traction in weightlessness. They drifted aimlessly, blades locked, jaws clenched, glaring defiantly into each other’s eyes.
When Vilas’s eyes were drawn for a moment to a point just behind Zekk’s shoulder, Zekk barely had time to wonder what his opponent was doing before a drifting metal rod crashed into the small of his back, sending an avalanche of pain along his spine. He gasped, then released his held breath in a rush. His lightsaber, still blazing, tumbled out of his hand.
The crowd roared as Zekk flailed in the air, trying to move away from his opponent. With an evil grin, Vilas charged toward him. Zekk could not reach his lightsaber in time: it spun like a fiery glowrod toward one of the balconies, where spectators scrambled to get out of the way.
With no weapon at hand, Zekk reached beside him to grasp the still-drifting metal rod. He grabbed the pole and swung it through the air with such speed that it made a sighing sound. But, in zero gravity, he was on the other end of the pivot point, and he began to spin around like a baton.
Vilas slashed at the oncoming metal pipe, slicing off half a meter of it. Zekk continued to spin, and Vilas swung again. The blow went wide. Zekk jabbed with the superheated end of the severed pipe, and the hot tip burned through Vilas’s armor, searing his ribs.
Vilas yowled in pain and grabbed the pipe himself, flinging it sideways and using the momentum to toss Zekk free. Zekk sailed across space, rebounded off one of the floating meteoroids, and reached out with his mind to call his lightsaber back to him. The weapon stopped its spiraling plunge toward the wall, reversed itself, and zipped into his grasp.
When Zekk turned and looked for Vilas again, though, he found that his opponent had vanished. The brooding young man from Dathomir was hiding, just as Zekk had. Zekk narrowed his eyes and opened his mind to the Force, listening, trying to sense Vilas among the obstacles.
The noise of the crowd gave him no hints … but somehow he was able to hear a faint tink-tink-tink, coming from behind two joined cargo containers. Zekk struck out for that point. He didn’t know what Vilas was doing, but he wouldn’t give the other young man time to complete his plan.
Zekk used the Force to direct himself toward the noise, but when he grabbed the edge of the cargo container and pulled himself around it, his lightsaber at the ready, he found only a small chunk of rock invisibly tapping itself against the metal wall. Vilas had managed to distract him, creating a diversion with the Force, while he hid elsewhere and prepared to strike—
With a sudden powerful premonition, Zekk whirled. Vilas had to be coming for him. Using his instinct, his sense with the Force, Zekk acted without thinking.
Before he could see, before he could consider what he was about to do, he pulled back to strike with his lightsaber, putting everything he had behind one powerful stroke.
In that instant, through the blaze of light smearing across his eyes, he saw Vilas launch himself out of the cargo container, wearing a predatory grin. He had hidden in ambush, hoping to kill the unsuspecting Zekk.
But Zekk had outsmarted him.
Zekk’s slashing blade encountered resistance as Vilas flew across his path. Then, with a flash of smoke and a terrible stench, the bright energy blade cleaved through flesh and bone, cauterizing as it went. Vilas made a choking, gurgling sound and continued his tumbling flight through the air—but now his body moved in two separate, smoking pieces.