Labyrinth of Death | Chapter 12

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12


Barras opened his eyes.
A burst of laughter echoed from a man sitting at one side of the room, staring at a screen. “Twelve down, seven to go!” He laughed again.
Memories flooded into Barras’ mind.
Borj.
And the numbers. His fellow troopers.
He looked beyond the rogue Sith to the screen. The map of the labyrinth. Pulsing blue dots. Three pulsing red dots.
A wave of anger spread inside Barras’ chest as his arm’s muscles spasmed, tightening and then releasing. He staggered to his feet, grabbing one of his blasters from the ground. He pointed it at Borj’s head and pulled the trigger.
Instead of firing, the gun sparked and popped. Loudly.
Borj turned, surprise written on his face. “You’re alive!”
Barras gripped the gun by the barrel and approached. “Obviously.”
Borj shot up to his feet, unsheathing his vibrosword. “Not for long.” The dark fire in his eyes returned, and his hand flung out.
Barras dropped to the ground, the Force push whooshing over his head. He leapt up and charged Borj, but changed direction at the last second. His blaster descended on the screen.
Crack!
“You—” Borj threw out his hand again. Invisible fingers took hold of Barras and lifted him into the air. He tried to squirm, tried to escape, to no avail. The Sith spun him around once.
“This time, I’m going to kill you,” hissed Borj. His fingers clenched into a fist, and the grip of the Force released Barras.
Barras hit the floor. The impact forced his breath out of him, and with it, a groan.
He looked up at the Sith through blurry eyes. “You aren’t doing a very good job of it.”
Borj touched the broken screen with his free hand, glaring at it, then at Barras. “I’ll make sure this time. Your head will decorate my shelves, and I’ll throw your headless body to the wampas.” Borj licked his lips, an evil grin stretching across his face. “And this time, you don’t get to say your last words.”
His hand flicked out. A flare of red-hot pain leapt from Barras’ left forearm. Barras moaned at the pain, glancing at his arm. The silver handle of a knife protruded. Rivulets of blood moistened the floor.
A boot landed on his forearm. Borj applied pressure. Barras screamed and tried weakly to throw Borj off, but the Sith stepped back and kicked him in the stomach. He writhed on the ground in pain.
“Die!”
The tip of the vibrosword pierced Barras’ chest armour. His hair stood on end as the first electrical charge coursed through his body. A groan began in his throat and escalated into a wail of pain.
His entire body spasmed, and the vibrosword’s tip removed itself from his chest.
He curled up, his muscles convulsing. He groaned again. Why? Why did he have to die?
Raenen.
Barras rolled onto his back and pushed himself away with his elbows. Borj laughed. “You aren’t going anywhere, trooper. You’re still going to die.”
“Borj!” A new voice. A familiar voice.
Barras’ gaze flicked to the newcomer, who stood proudly, his back straight, a red lightsaber ignited. I’m saved.
Darth Radoth.
He looked back at Borj. The rogue Sith’s vibrosword clattered on the floor, and he knelt before the Sith assassin. “My master, I hope you are pleased—”
Barras’ ears heard no more.
Traitor. Radoth is a traitor.
With a sudden movement, he lunged upright and smacked Borj in the head with his gauntlet. The rogue Sith cried out, his words cut off. Barras grabbed up the vibrosword and thrust it at Borj’s chest.
A red lightsaber intercepted the vibrosword’s killing stroke. Barras looked up into Radoth’s face.
Radoth shook his head as he twisted the vibrosword out of Barras’ hand. “You should never have survived, Barras. Everything would have been so much better if Borj had killed you.” He glared at Borj, who rose slowly, his brow creased with pain.
“I was about to kill him, Master, when you arrived,” said Borj, his eyes pained yet angry. “I chose to do it the slow way, as I was taught.”
Barras backed away, stricken by the blatant treachery that was going on right in front of him.
Radoth shook his head again. “Borj, Borj, you should have killed him right off.” He glared at the rogue Sith. “Speaking of which, was he successful in sabotaging the labyrinth?”
Borj glanced backwards at the broken screen. “Well, he smashed—”
“So he was,” Radoth whispered menacingly. “You’ve failed, Borj. I shall find a new apprentice to become the new Radoth. You have failed.”
Borj stepped back, shocked. “Master, please—”
From Radoth’s hand burst blue lightning. The electricity surged into Borj’s body, and the rogue Sith screamed in pain. Radoth’s face held a look of dark delight as he released Borj from the lightning, then infused the rogue Sith a second time with an even brighter volley. “Failure. Go to your grave with this the last word you’ll ever hear. Failure. Failure.”
“No!” screamed Borj as a third and final torrent of Force lightning surged into him. The force of the torrent flung his body against the room and against the wall. He fell three metres to the ground—dead.

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Dmitri Pendragon
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