Labyrinth of Death | Chapter 1

Prologue—Chapter One


  Taden Aminnor glared at his opponent. “So it’s come to this.”
  Barras Kampion glared back. “I’m afraid so, ex-friend.” He pulled three rocks onto his side of the table and grabbed Taden’s credit chip. “Sorry, but you just lost.”
  Taden’s hand moved to his side. Barras’ blaster suddenly hovered in front of his face. “Don’t even think about it. I won fairly. No shooting allowed.”
  Taden slapped his hand on the table, scooping the three rocks into his palm. “Rocks in return for money. Hardly fair.”
  “You’re the one who challenged me to rocks.” Barras slid the chip into his pocket. “It’s your own fault.”
  The Sith trooper across the table from him threw the rocks on the ground. “I’m not having these.”
  “Great.” Barras nudged the rocks closer to him, keeping his blaster pointed at Taden, and crouched, scooping up the rocks. “I’ll have them.”
  Taden shook his head. “No, no, give them back. I’ll have them.”
  “Too late.” Barras shot a grin at his fellow Sith trooper. “I’ve already got them.” He slid his blaster into its holder and walked towards the cantina’s exit.
  A click behind him made him freeze. “Stop right there.”
  Barras leapt to the side as Taden’s blaster punched a hole in the wall. His fingers scrabbled for his own gun as Taden fired again. The shot whizzed past his ear, and he ducked.
  His hand found the grip of his blaster. He dodged another one of Taden’s shots and fired at the Sith trooper’s shoulder. Taden grimaced, dropping his blaster and clamping his hand to his shoulder.
  Barras pointed the blaster at Taden’s face. “Stop trying to kill me. I beat you. Get that into your thick skull and stop playing rocks in the future.” With a raucous laugh, he left the cantina and entered the corridors outside the warmly lit room. His steps took him towards the Sith trooper barracks.
  He paused by a window and looked out at Korriban’s landscape. It was cold here, and he shivered. Growing up on Tatooine made your life so much harder, because you were used to heat. And the rest of the galaxy was cold. Very cold.
  He walked quickly, his pace hastened by the temperature in the corridors. These passageways were never heated. Always cold. Not many of his fellow Sith troopers would think so. In his detachment, he was the only one who hailed from Tatooine. Remin came from Coruscant. Hirda and Dalfis had been born on Korriban itself. And Falex boasted of being from Tython, the Jedi homeworld—as if that was something to boast about.
  A dark figure appeared down the dimly lit passageway, walking slowly and stealthily. Barras’ hand crept to his blaster. Taden again? Seeking further revenge?
  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, trooper,” a voice grated.
  Barras raised his hands, presenting his empty palms to the Sith lord. “My apologies, m’lord. I—”
  “Don’t bother me with your excuses,” said the Sith, his voice low and bored. “I have no time for them.” Light from one of the spaced lamps fell on his face, revealing long black hair tied back in a braid. Sideburns ran down the sides of his face and ended in a short black beard. A mustache bristled above his upper lip. And a perfectly round scar had been burned on his right cheek.
  Barras dropped his gaze and bowed deeply, a surge of fear taking over him. Every Sith trooper knew of Lord Radoth—a brutally efficient Sith assassin who, according to rumour, used fear and pain to taunt his victims before killing them slowly, agonisingly slowly. He swallowed quietly, venturing a look upwards.
  No one.
  He looked back down the passage. Lord Radoth walked silently, hands behind his back. Everything about him spoke of a lethal confidence. His stride, in particular. Barras gulped again, his brow creasing, and ran for the barracks.

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  He had been foolish, he chastised himself. Surely Lord Radoth knew of The Code—Sith lords weren’t allowed to kill Sith troopers. Severe punishment followed disobedience, because who wanted to join an army where you could be killed at any time? By your leaders, that is?
  He sighed. Stared up at the hammock above his own. But Lord Radoth was different from other Sith lords. A social outcast. A loner. A Sith who bordered on the name of renegade.
  “Remind me never to get on Lord Radoth’s bad side,” he whispered under his breath. A yawn broke his meditations. Being the rocks champion really strained your mind. A good night’s rest should be deserved.
  The lights flicked on. Barras grunted and shielded his eyes from the painful glare. He sat up, his hammock swinging beneath him, and nearly fell out onto Dalfis below. “Who did that?”
  Captain Moran stepped into the room. “All right! Everyone up!”
  Groans erupted from the hammocks. The first actual words came from Falex. “What’s up now, cappy?”
  “No complaints! Get up and get out here!”
  Silence, broken by a few more groans.
  “NOW!”
  Instant obedience.

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One other thing—you don't have to comment. I didn't say this before, but you are allowed to just read this and then leave without leaving a comment if you have nothing to say. I enjoy comments, but they aren't a necessity.

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