Chapter 35
The war room had long since emptied after the impromptu ceremony, save for Anhiel, Rend, Mirr, Athin and the reduced Sith officer. He points to a place on the holomap before him, indicating a deserted system as he spoke, “It has been several months since we last spoke, but the fleet was to hold in this system. I was to join them but the occupation began no more than a day after the fleet departed.” Anhiel quietly thinks about the information before questioning, “And you have had no contact with them since then? Who commands this small fleet?” The Sith shakes his head in response, “No ma’am. Not so much as a single communication since their departure. Darth Vyrrid was in command when they left. The personnel under his command are fiercely loyal and followed without hesitation.” At the mention of the darth’s name, Anhiel’s features turn slightly but the change in her aura is far more apparent, causing Athin to tilt his head as he observes the shift. She remains quiet for nearly a minute before turning her head toward Rend, “General, have the Redeemer prepared to depart within the hour. Athin, Mirr and myself shall seek out this fleet. I leave you in command while I am away.” His time with the Grandmaster made it so he was not surprised by the order and he nodded curtly in response, “As you command, Grandmaster. Safe travels.” The trio and crew of the Shadow Redeemer depart on time exactly an hour later, hurtling through Hyperspace towards their destination. To both Mirr and Athin’s concern, the Admiral spent the duration of the trip in her meditation chamber. From outside, the turbulence in her aura could be witnessed by her Miraluka companion but Athin elected to not intrude. She would come to him in her own time, when she was ready.
It takes over a day for the capital ship to arrive at its destination. In a holding pattern above a nondescript planet drifts a Terminus class destroyer surrounded by a pair of frigates, three light corvettes, a single interdictor and single carrier. Three squadrons of fighters fly around the perimeter, enguard for unanticipated arrivals, such as the large Centurion class battlecruiser that exited hyperspace just outside their envelope. Immediately, the fighters turn towards the unannounced arrival with the flight leader opening a direct channel, “Unidentified vessel, identify yourself immediately or you will be fired upon.” The flight leader stares at the capital ship as they continue to approach, the cockpit remaining silent for many moments until a fleet wide broadcast comes through from the Shadow Redeemer. “Darth Vyrrid, I had expected to see you on the front line and yet, here you are. Hiding.” The connection remains quiet for over a minute. The confidence with which the unknown individual addressed the small Sith fleet’s leader caused the flight leader to call the strike off. Instead, he moved the fighters into a defensive pattern just outside the capital ship’s engagement envelope.
Aboard the destroyer, Darth Vyrrid is clad in deep black robes with a hood equally deep masking his graying face with a smirk, looking out from the bridge upon the Shadow Redeemer. With a glance he orders his end of the connection to be opened and addresses Anhiel with a voice that is both smooth and grizzled simultaneously, “Do my ears and the Force deceive me or does the Silver Butcher return?” Flatly, Anhiel’s voice rings throughout the Sith fleet, “I have indeed returned and I require your resources for my mission.” Darth Vyrrid chuckles deeply, amused, “If you mean to fight this invading force, it is a fruitless mission. Neither will I part with those loyal to me easily.” Silence once more sounds louder than when words were spoken and it continues for another minute before the cool and dark voice of the Grandmaster cuts through. The power of the Force can be felt through each word, “I would expect nothing less from you, Darth Vyrrid. Shall we finish our battle from so long ago? Single combat, to the death. The winner takes control of the other’s fleet and resources without question or objection.” A deep laugh near hysteria can be heard and continues for several seconds, “The Shadow Redeemer may be mighty but it is hardly worth risking so many vessels and soldiers for.”
No response is received and the older Darth moves to speak once more before a report flashes on the screen. The contents of the report outlines the remaining forces of Anhiel’s fleet. Despite their losses, the fleet possesses several more vessels than the small Sith fleet. Attempting to hide the nervousness and desire in his voice, Vyrrid responds, “What guarantee do I have that your men will follow without issue should you lose?” On the opposing ship, Anhiel smirks before responding with complete authority, “My word is absolute. Should you defeat me, they will do as you command.” Darth Vyrrin exhales deeply, pondering his options before stating simply, “Very well, Butcher. We shall fight to the death in one hour. The victor takes absolute command. Prepare yourself.” Unnervingly, the younger woman’s voice displays deadly intent and no hint of nervousness “Make your peace, Darth Vyrrid. You barely escaped before and I have grown vastly stronger since the last war.”
Twenty minutes later, details appear on the console before a young communications officer who makes notes rapidly while simultaneously opening a comlink to the Admiral. “Ma’am, we just received a request for the duel to take place aboard the Sith fleet’s flagship.” Anhiel responds from her location in the armory after clicking the communicator on, “That is acceptable. Please communicate that and prepare a shuttle. I will be ready to depart in fifteen minutes.” Without waiting for a response, she cuts the link and turns her eyes to the white and silver armor with a matching mask resting on a stand before her. A large, greying man enters the room and salutes briskly. The armorer addresses the woman with mild reservation in his voice, “Ma’am, the suit is ready but if you wear it now I cannot guarantee the fit will be perfect as we have not had an opportunity to make final alterations.” Without looking towards him, she responds “Have faith in your skills, burc’ya. You have made armor that is unique in recorded history. I am not aware of anyone who has blended Mythra with a crystalline armor technique. It is exquisite.” The armorer inclines his head in gratitude before moving forward and begins to prepare the armor to be donned and Anhiel begins to shed her uniform. It takes several minutes to don the armor even with assistance but once complete, the armorer steps back to admire the work. The Admiral stands straight, now draped in layers of very thin but strong metal of a white color with silver accenting the edges. Each layer is several inches wide extending across the whole of her torso, each layer heavily overlaps the next layer. Her legs are gripped by tight grey material with similar plating, although each layer is not as wide. Anhiel spins to now face the armorer, revealing the white and silver mask that covered her face within the deep hood. The mask is shaped somewhat like a T, very reminiscent of the mask worn by Revan years ago. The angles are slightly different and the coloring matches that of the whole outfit; primarily white with silver accents and black in the recesses to accent the sharp angles.
Her voice is mildly mocking as she speaks with her back to the door, but the words easily reach the individual standing just outside. “Why do you worry so? Do you have so little faith in me, Athin?” The miraluka straightens up and steps through the doorway with a somber expression, “You know that is not the reason, I have every confidence that you will be victorious. I just wish there was another way. How can you be sure this Darth and his subordinates will behave in an honorable fashion?” Anhiel turns, offering a light smile underneath the armored mask, “Darth Vyrrid and I have history. He may be a Sith but he is honorable. Besides, I will have you and Mirr for protection should anything go awry.” Athin frowns, nodding slightly “Very well, Anhiel. Are you ready to depart? Mirr sent word that the ship is prepared.” With her left hand, the Admiral gestures to the door, “Lead on, dear.”
Twenty minutes later, the XB-70 touches down on the deck of the Sith flagship’s hangar. After a moment, the seal on the hatch breaks releasing a shrill hiss as steam rushes out. Once the ramp contacts the deck, Anhiel strides down confidently with heavy footsteps, although they are not as loud as usual as the stronger armor is much lighter than the durasteel plate she normally wears. She comes to a stop a few paces from the ramp in front of the Sith fleet’s Vice Admiral. The man is older, early 50s, with greying hair cut in a tight military fashion. He wears the standard Sith military uniform of gray and black and has a unit of soldiers behind him standing in rank. Anhiel appraises the man from behind her mask as Athin and Mirr come to a stop just behind her on her left and right, respectively. Athin is garbed in his usual robes, lightsaber on his belt exposed enough for onlookers to see. Mirr is clad in his full armor, holding his large rifle in a defensive posture, but not aggressive as his head swivels to survey the area. Their greeter is taken aback for a moment at the armor-clad woman as well as her Miraluka and Mandalorian guards. Once he processed the sight, he spoke in a heavy military tone, “Ma’am, you must be….” the statement trailed off as he realized he was not sure how to address the mostly unknown woman. Anhiel had adopted her particularly pissy/menacing tone for her response, “Grandmaster Dulcinae. I take it Darth Vyrrid is preparing? Why else would he send only a Vice Admiral to greet me?” Despite the metal mask, the weight of the woman’s eyes press upon the admiral causing him to clear his throat as he attempts to regain some composure. “It is as you say, ma’am. Please follow me. Darth Vyrrid awaits.” The small party follows out of the hangar, the air given off by the unknown woman’s guards dissuades any thoughts of interfering with the upcoming battle.
A large steel door slides open before the group, revealing a wide open room meant for cargo. Although, it was barren save for the dark robed figure at the center and several higher ranking members of the fleet arranged in a line behind. The trio enters, moving to the center where the Vice Admiral bows to Darth Vyrrid, “Master, I have brought the Jedi as requested.” Seemingly ignoring the statement, the Sith master turns towards Anhiel and bows before offering a reprimand to the Vice Admiral, “She is no mere Jedi, Admiral. You are in the presence of a Grandmaster and you would do well to grasp that. I fully expect that you are about to witness firsthand how she came to be known as the Silver Butcher.” The final sentence finishes as the Darth straightens to see Anhiel incline her head in gratitude. Vyrrid beckons towards the open area and Anhiel moves to a position in front of him three meters away. Nervously, the Vice Admiral bows once more and takes position in the line behind while Athin and Mirr move to stand by the door. Without glancing backwards, the Sith commands “The terms.” prompting a young woman with jet black hair to step forward and begin reading from a data pad. “My Lord, the terms are as follows: Grandmaster Dulcinae proposes a duel with Darth Vyrrid for absolute command of all personnel and resources. In exchange, the position of her fleet has been provided along with orders to be transmitted immediately upon defeat, should that occur. The duel is to the death and victory may only be claimed once the opponent is deceased. Yielding will not be sufficient.” With a short nod, Vyrrid gazes towards his opponent, “Do you agree to these terms, Grandmaster Dulcinae?” Her voice is soft yet powerful and commanding as she responds, “I do.” Vyrrid continues, “As do I. As you have already provided orders in the event of your defeat, I will do the same.” He pauses, turning sharply to face the officers behind him. With authority, he addresses them all, allowing his head to swivel slowly over the line. “In the event of my defeat, I hereby order you all to immediately swear loyalty to Grandmaster Dulcinae and serve her with the same honor and respect you have served me.” Simultaneously, they all bow and respond, “As you wish, my lord.”
The room falls silent as the combatants now face each other, each bowing low to the other for several seconds. As they straighten, Darth Vyrrid pulls a long saber hilt from deep within his robes. The weapon is thick and made of a dark metal and upon ignition, thick, deep red blades extend from both ends. Anhiel remains still as a pair of smooth silver hilts begin to rise from within her robes. Each moves upwards in front of her and hangs in the air for many seconds before she grips them gently. She slides her right foot backwards slowly while crouching at the same time. Her left arm comes across in front of her with the blade held in a reverse grip and her right arm is held high. The purple blades snap to life, the left extending from the base of her hand in a defensive position while the right is pointed towards her opponent. In an instant, Anhiel seemed to disappear from her position, only those sensitive to the Force in the room could anticipate the burst of speed as the Force swirled around her. Her right hand thrusts forward, punching through the fabric that remained in its path as Vyrrid steps to the left just in time. He swings the bottom blade of his weapon upwards to the woman’s now exposed side but it only connects with her left blade having spun to her right with equal speed. She continues the spin, knocking the blade away and bringing the right around with a backhanded slash aimed at his hip. The pair disengage for a brief moment before clashing together again. Slashes, thrusts, and parries fly with great speed from both combatants and red and purple blades crackle with each impact, lighting up the room. As dozens of minutes pass, the Darth is on the backfoot, losing ground under the relentless assault of the faster woman. He spins his dual blade like a propeller knocking away two successive thrusts before he leaps backwards with a single flip, landing a few meters away.
Vibrant yellow fills his eyes as he raises his left hand just as deep blue bolts of lightning erupt from his fingertips. The Vice Admiral grins as he watches, waiting for the unknown Jedi to crumple from the storm. But the grin is replaced by shock as the woman also raises a hand and green lightning rushes out to meet the oncoming storm. The clashing colors cast harsh light on the onlookers as the many bolts continue to crash into each other. Darth Vyrrid grimaces as he pushes the power flowing through him in an attempt to gain ground. With her face obscured, Anhiel grimaces as well although it is unseen by the onlookers, causing worry to begin to grow within the Sith at the seeming lack of effort with which she holds their lord at bay. As the lightning storm continues, she folds her right arm across her abdomen before swinging it swiftly, sending her blade flying straight for her opponent. The weapon flies like an arrow just under the storm and is only noticed at the last moment. Darth Vyrrid breaks the storm and attempts to move but the blade makes contact with the outer edge of his right thigh as it flies by, cutting a gash equal to the width of the blade before embedding itself in the wall behind him. The only warning of the follow up attack was a visceral snarl from the woman who now flew through air, right hand outstretched, calling back the missing saber. As it contacts her hand once more she falls upon the wounded Sith, bringing both sabers down with all her might onto the defending saber, one blade on each end. With both hands, Vyrrid struggles against the weight from his position on the floor, his injured leg unable to support much weight. Suddenly, Anhiel releases the pressure, causing the Sith to push his saber upwards quickly as she intended. With a quick spin, the Grandmaster then lashes out with a straight kick of her right leg aimed at the center of the long hilt, sending it flying from her opponent’s grip. She continues the motion until her right blade comes to rest at Darth Vyrrid’s neck, angled downward as she looks down upon him.
Despite his defeat, the Sith’s face bears an expression of happiness while he raises his head to gaze at the woman’s mask. Breathing heavily from exertion and pain he addresses her, “As expected…you have bested me, Butcher. My men and ships are yours. They will serve you well or I will bring my wrath upon them from the beyond.” Both the Sith and allied onlookers watched in silence, wrestling with their own versions of shock. Vyrrid continues, “Might I make two requests before the end?” From behind her mask, Anhiel’s features soften as she looks upon the older man before she gives a single nod in response. “Make my death quick, but before you do might I be allowed to look upon your face once more?” Silence fills the space in and around the pair for many moments before Anhiel extinguishes her sabers, putting the left one back on her belt then kneeling down on her right knee less than a meter away. With her left hand she removes the mask, showing her silvery white bangs and piercing blue eyes that look straight into Vyrrid’s. The sight brings a smile to his face as he comments softly so that only she could hear, “Just as beautiful as so many years ago. If only things had been different…” Anhiel’s features exhibit compassion and respect for the man as she understands his words. He nods firmly, and she responds with a slow nod before placing her left hand on his right shoulder. In a flash, the right saber she had been holding ignites and the blade punches through his heart before snapping back within the hilt. As life leaves the Sith’s body, she gently guides him down to the ground before reaching out her free hand to call his weapon to her. She places it on his chest vertically then folds both of his hands over the hilt before standing and facing the Sith officers. To her right by the door, Athin and Mirr prepare for the worst, not having faith that the agreement would be honored.
Tension can be felt in the room as Anhiel’s eyes fall upon the officers. She does not speak as it is not necessary, her gaze and expression say all that needs to be said. Challenge me and you will meet the same fate. To her surprise, the Vice Admiral is the first to move, and as he did so the silent Mandalorian raised his rifle in response. Having sensed the soldier’s intent, Anhiel raises a hand to halt Mirr as she watches the man drop to his right knee, head bowed and right fist brought across to his left chest. The remaining officers quickly follow suit before the Vice Admiral speaks with respect in his voice, “We await your command, master.” Without hesitation, Anhiel commands “Plot a course for Korriban and prepare the body. I will see Vyrrid interred with honors before we rendezvous with the remainder of the fleet.” With his head still bowed, the Vice Admiral responds gratefully, “You honor us with this wish and we will see it done. I shall have a report prepared detailing the fleet’s current strength and resources for your review once we are enroute.” Anhiel nods, before responding “Thank you. Have a Sith outfit prepared as well. I wish to oversee the burial personally and do not wish to draw unnecessary attention.” The request catches most of those present by surprise but only one young officer was brave enough to voice their confusion, “Ma’am, would the Sith force users not be able to sense the presence of a Jedi despite their attire?” While she had wielded lightning during the battle, the lightning now arching from her hands and forearms was a dark blue and her once blue irises were a deep and vibrant yellow. Her voice chilled the officers to their core, “As your late master had said before, I am no ordinary Jedi. Should someone question my intentions, they will meet the same end as the Darth I consider to be infinitely their better. But not before they suffer in ways beyond their imagination.”
Athin merely watches with an emotionless expression, no longer stunned by the woman’s intensity and brutality when she chose to show it. Mirr smiles within his helmet, reveling in the glory of his master’s victory and promise of crushing those that would stand in the way of their next mission. They both straighten as the High Admiral approaches them, having finished her discussion with the Sith officers. Mirr salutes with a fist across his chest as Athin bows deeply. As they finish, Athin is the first to address the woman, “Your final interaction with this Darth Vyrrid was intriguing to say the least. How did you know him?” Anhiel’s expression can only be described as pained as she looks directly at Athin and the emotion is evident in her aura. Her words echo the feeling as she speaks slowly, “That story will have to wait. But I promise you I will share it with you, dear.” Athin only inclines his head in response, understanding her need for space in that moment. The Grandmaster strides past them both, heading back towards the hangar and Mirr’s ship.