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kimageddon · 1 year ago

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A Prince of Dathomir - Chapter 118

Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Slight Canon Divergence

Word count: Approx 3300

Contains/Warnings: Mentions of blood, death and threatening behaviour

Chapter Summary: Maul and Co. go in search for Sith artefacts.

Notes: (at the end!)

Interference - Part 1

“The bosses ain’t gonna like this,” the particularly pathetic Klatoonian grumbled as Maul stared down at him.

“Call. Them.”

Behind him, Zaiya leaned casually against a wall. Feral was perched, wearing his newly acquired half mask, on a railing on the upper level of the cargo hold. Savage paced slowly up on the walkway. The group of pirates were cornered… what was left of them anyway.

Maul held his lightsaber ready, he was running out of patience, though he would rather not have to fight his way through the entire ship. It would be far too time-consuming and inefficient.

They’d located the Spice runners and managed to stow away on the ship. A freighter-class of Corellian make, named Daiyu Blue. Meanwhile, the droid kept the Nameless just out of range. The group had turned out to be a band of pirates but their cargo was worth the effort.

A decent shipment of credits, certainly. But what drew Maul was the presence of the Dark Side.

The nervous Klatoonian raised his hands, palms out in a placating gesture, he pressed the button on the comlink attached to his wrist and spoke into it.

“Yeah boss, we have a bit of a situation down here, I need you to come have a look,” he said, eyeing Maul cautiously. Smart enough not to try and warn his superior about the Dathomirians’ presence.

With a nod, the other three melted into the shadows as they awaited the arrival of whoever was in charge of this vessel. Sure enough, after a few minutes, the doors slid open and an Ithorian swaggered into the room.

[What is this, Ish?] the ‘boss’ said, speaking through the translator secured around his swollen neck. He was followed by a young human male dressed in plain garb next to the luxuriously clad alien. The two bulbous eyes of the Ithorian landed on Maul. [You don’t belong here.]

“You are travelling with more than just spice here,” he said bluntly. “What is in the other crates?” Maul already knew, but he wanted to see if they understood it. The human shifted uncomfortably and looked to his boss. Interesting.

[Get off my ship! You don’t--] the Ithorian was cut off by Feral’s curved vibroblade suddenly held barely an inch from his throat.

“I wouldn’t be so inhospitable, if I were you,” he snarled. The human reached for his blaster, but Savage was too quick, and his lightsaber blade stopped him in his tracks.

[Who are you?] the Ithorian demanded.

“We are Crimson Dawn,” Maul replied confidently. “And you will answer the question.”

“They’re artefacts,” the human said quickly, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. Maul looked at him expectantly. “They’re--”

“The boy is a fool.” The Ithorian interrupted, “he seems to think they have a connection to some sort of ancient order of Jedi.”

“Sith, not Jedi,” the human corrected. The tension in the room increased.

“What are your names?” Maul asked after a pause and careful assessment of the smugglers.

[I am Vlakim Dossic,] the Ithorian said, as though that meant anything. [This is my second, Dryden Vos.] Maul had to wonder how much Vos knew of the Sith. Likely not much, considering the secretive nature of the order, but it was worth paying attention to. What artefacts did they have?

When Maul was younger, he had desired to seek out such artefacts. He had dreamed of his name joining those of the Sith that had risen into legend. That he would become so accomplished among the Sith ranks that he would be revered by the Apprentices that he would one day take.

And yet…

Now here he stood. The artefacts he’d coveted, potentially right here? His molten gaze turned back to the few men cowering against the crates. Sith relics could provide power in and of themselves.

We are not who made us, Zaiya had said. Yet if they did not use the tools they had available to them…?

“Where did you find them?” Maul asked suspiciously.

“They were left near an old Jedi vault on Balamak,” Vos replied. “We had no time to explore further else the nearby Troopers would have found us.”

“Balamak is in Separatist space,” Savage said with a frown. “What are Troopers doing there?”

[We weren't about to stick around to find out,] Dossic said, shifting his weight nervously.

How very interesting. Maul thought to himself. If they had these relics… he only had to wonder what other powerful items might be unearthed. If it helped him gain the upperhand on the Jedi, all the more reason to have it. He raised his head and smirked.

“You have been presented with quite the opportunity,” the crimson Zabrak began. “You can join our enterprise… or you can perish.”

“I’m in,” said the Klatoonian, before even his bosses had the chance to speak, clearly valuing his own skin. Some of the other pirates hurriedly agreed in soft murmurs. Maul then turned his attention to the irritated Ithonian. He clearly didn’t like this deal and didn’t trust Maul, but he had little choice, and was not foolish enough to try and fight.

[Very well,] Dossic huffed. Vos seemed to assess the situation with more intelligence than his comrades and also nodded.

“Lieutenant,” Maul called into the darkness, feeling Zaiya lingering with her eye on them all. “You and Savage will accompany these men and oversee the operation. When you are finished, you will then return to the Temptress.”

“As you wish, sire,” Zaiya’s voice echoed around them, and a moment later she seemed to appear at the doorway to the cockpit. Vos jerked at her sudden appearance while Dossic nearly fell over.

“Brother,” Maul nodded to Feral, who slipped his knife away and retreated to Maul’s side as Maul tapped the commlink on his wrist. There was a follow up beep of confirmation and he knew the droid Sixy was now enroute. “You,” Maul said, addressing the Klatoonian. The alien almost whimpered. Pathetic.

“Y-yes?” he asked.

“You and your associates will deliver these artefacts to my ship.” Maul could feel the concerned glare from Zaiya, despite not looking in her direction. “I will see if these items are indeed so-called Sith relics.” Better that they learn the secrets than some human that had no ability in the Force at all.

----

“You know what Zaiya said,” Feral muttered to his brother. The two of them walked along a platform that overlooked a small village close to the location Vos had told them about.

“I am aware, brother,” Maul replied, his face mostly obscured by his hood but his head was turned to look toward the settlement of sentients. Apparently they were refugees attempting to escape the war on a nearby planet. The group of civilians consisted of families and veterans unable to fight. Hardly a target for the Separatists, nor an honourable attack for the Dathomirians.

There was however - according to further intel from the newly acquired Damiyu Blue crew - an ancient ruin in the village that led to the entrance of a vault.

Feral didn’t understand it. For a peacekeeping order, they certainly had a taste for warfare, for fighting, and to the Nightbrother, these clones holding the village hostage were hardly a symbol for peace.

Either way, whatever power source lingered in the ruins near the village, did not need to add to the machine of war on behalf of the Republic. The Galactic Republic rarely reached Dathomir, and Feral was woefully ignorant when their journey had begun so many months ago on Dathomir, but Maul and Zaiya had been more than willing to explain, and also allow him access to the Holo-net through the terminals on the ship for him to read on his own time.

Quickly he began to see the corruption of the Republic and knowing what he did of Maul’s former Master, the theatre of war was just that; a show set on a stage that was the Galaxy. He wondered why no one else seemed to have noticed!

It seemed so obvious.

Their goal was to obtain said power source by any means. Night was closing in, at least then they would have cover of darkness. Zabrak vision was still impressive at night; it would hold no hindrance to them, unlike the humans below.

“We will not need to harm anyone if all goes to plan, better that we are unseen entirely,” Maul continued.

Once most of the refugees had safely turned in for the night, Feral and Maul slipped away from their perch and moved silently around the perimeter. The opening to the ruins from what they could tell was a passage leading underground. The entrance of which was unfortunately in the centre of the village. They would have to be quick if they did not wish to be seen.

The two made their way down, correctly estimating the main square in the centre was their target. A large round ornate tile that appeared to be made of a different type of material to the surrounding stone.

Feral swept in close, silently hiding behind a pillar as he heard the footsteps of some of the clones as they patrolled.

“I don’t know why they’ve sent us out to this little backwater planet,” one of them grumbled from under their helmets. Feral pressed himself against the stone and into the shadows as they passed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Maul’s glowing eyes from the darkness near the mess tent that had been erected nearby.

“You heard the General, we have to get these civilians to the transports when the evac arrives!” The exact same voice replied and it almost sounded like the Trooper was having a conversation with himself.

“That’s local enforcement stuff, we should be out on the front lines…!”

“Listen, shiny. When the General gives a command, you follow it,” clearly this Trooper was older and more disciplined. Or indoctrinated.

“I know, but why would these people need guarding? The Separatists wouldn’t be after a small group of civilians like this. They go after big targets!” the younger Trooper whined.

“We don’t know what these people may or may not have seen, Blanks,” the older Trooper replied. Thankfully their voices were fading and Feral nodded to Maul as they drew in together to remove the centre tile carefully with the Force.

Once they had both dropped into the passage, they used the Force once more to cover the entrance. The Moonlight was snuffed out and the two Nightbrothers were left in total darkness. It took only a few moments for Feral’s eyes to adjust, and he did as Maul and Zaiya had taught him over the last few weeks; reaching out with the Force to guide his way.

The darkness seemed to part and he was able to walk confidently forward through the tunnel.

“It should be through here,” Feral said as he gestured to an area where the tunnel widened out. Sure enough, as Vos had described, there was a round room, derelict tools, crates and the musty scent of dust. On the far wall was a huge circular panel of dulled metal that looked similar to bronzium. A large symbol was carved into it and Feral heard Maul chuckle.

“That is no Jedi symbol,” he scoffed.

“What is it?” Feral asked, tugging his hood back.

“It is a Sith marking, one of knowledge.” Maul stepped closer and raised a gloved hand, running his fingers over the raised markings on the door. “One must open it with the Force.”

Feral gestured to the door, allowing Maul to take the lead. His brother raised his hand higher and closed his eyes. Sure enough a moment later, the tunnel rumbled and the door groaned and scraped, slowly sliding open with the protest of stone and metal grinding together.

The younger Nightbrother had expected a decayed but lavish interior, something sinister, grand and imposing. Maybe some ancient banners or a shrine… but it was…

“Nothing,” Maul growled. Whatever had been here, the vault within had collapsed and was little more than rocks and dirt. It would take serious excavation equipment to clear the vault. If there was even something to recover. Maul snarled in irritation. “A waste of time,” he sneered.

“Mm,” Feral huffed irritably. He was about to turn away, when he spotted something glinting in the gloom. His eyes narrowed and he leaned in. “There might be something…” he began and reached into a small gap between two large boulders. It was further in than he anticipated, and he had to push his arm all the way to his shoulder. “I feel something.” He said confidently, straining to wrap his fingers around the cylindrical… something he could feel brush his fingertips. It was cold as ice and almost sparked when he touched it, making his fingers tingle.

After some effort, he managed to grasp the end of the thing and pull. His first attempt slipped and he cried out in pain and yanked his hand back.

“What?” Maul asked, stepping closer.

“Something sharp,” Feral growled, and tried again. He could feel the long metal thing was warmer now, was it just from his hand? It was strangely easier to grab now. He had no trouble seizing what felt like a handle. He pulled, no small effort on his part, but inch by inch, and after a muttered curse, the thing began to come loose.

The rocks around them began to rumble and shift, but Feral nearly had it. He felt the vibrations but he was certain. He had to grab it. He had to retrieve it. It called to him, beckoned him closer. Whatever it was, he had to have it. if he could just--

“Brother--!” Maul hissed, and the next thing Feral knew, he was on the ground. He glanced to one side, and saw Maul had yanked him out of the way, both of them on their backs in the dirt. Maul had saved his life. “You are uninjured?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Feral coughed and there was a slight tingling in his hand. He raised it, to see he’d managed to grab what he’d reached for.

Holding it up, he could finally see that it was a strange kind of dagger. Made of dark metal and bearing a curved, almost crescent moon shaped blade, it was certainly a tool fit for an assassin. The handle appeared to be a textured matte metallic material, the grip was once leather of some kind but it felt crumbly and brittle now. Curved spikes jutted out from the pommel and crossguard, the pommel seemed to be what Feral had cut his hand on.

“I got it,” Feral whispered softly, looking between it and Maul. The elder brother nodded in the dark and looked closer at the blade.

“The design seems familiar… but for now we must return,” Maul stood and helped Feral up, the two brothers returning back through the passage whence they had come.

It was far quicker to slip back through the dark and up to the surface. All that was left was to return to The Nameless and then they could reunite with Zaiya, Savage and the others.

“What are you doing?!” came a sudden shout. Both Zabraks froze and their heads snapped around to the sound. They spied the two Troopers from earlier across the square, blasters raised.

But not at them.

Walking towards the two Troopers, arms out wide, a wild look on their face, was what appeared to be a Pantoran. Their eyes were bright, manic and almost feverish. In one hand was a small cylinder, but part of their body was obscured.

“Put it down, civilian.”

“I won’t be taken by your corrupt Republic!” the civilian screeched. “Count Dooku will destroy your armies!” The Troopers shifted and Feral’s eyes widened, the civilian was not armed, but covered in a vest of little cylinders and little red blinking lights.

“Go!” Maul snarled. The time for stealth was done as the two Zabraks turned, bolting toward the higher platforms.

“Hey! Who's that?” cried another Trooper, evidently spotting the fleeing Dathomirians.

They didn’t stop. Feral’s foot barely landed on the upper level when the shockwave slammed into him and sent him tumbling forward, a large piece of shrapnel whizzed right over his head so close, he heard it.

The fireball engulfed the makeshift village and the air filled with the screams of the innocents and Troopers alike. Feral was sure he heard a baby crying. The sound alone was haunting.

Both were breathing heavily as they reached the ship at the peak of the hill just beyond the village borders.

“What in the void was that?” Feral gasped as they paused at the ramp.

“Thermal detonator,” Maul huffed. “It seems not all the refugees were so willing to be interrogated by the Jedi.”

“We were seen,” Feral grumbled as they made their way into the ship.

“Take off immediately,” Maul snapped into the comm mic on the wall of the cargo hold.

[Yeeeesss Masster,] the droid replied.

“I know,” Maul said to his brother as the hatch closed. The two made their way back to the cockpit. “But it matters little, they are dead.” The door slid open and Maul took the pilot’s seat quickly. “The Separatists however are not, and the explosion will have alerted them.”

Within seconds the Nameless was in the air, several warnings blaring across the sensors as Feral strapped himself in. He could look at his prize later. His fingers slowly sliding over the handle at his side.

The crimson Zabrak was an excellent pilot and easily avoided the incoming Separatist scouts, slipping past the blockade into the blackness of space. Another minute later, they were in the rushing blue of hyperspace.

“You said you recognised it,” Feral asked.

“I said possibly,” Maul corrected. He turned to look at the blade Feral now held. His expression was contemplative. “I had heard Darth Zannah had attempted several assassination attempts on her Master, the Sith Lord Darth Bane before she was finally successful in killing him on Ambria.” He nodded to the blade. “This looks similar to one of her tools I saw depicted in the archives. Though that was a long time ago.”

Feral looked at the dusty and ancient blade in his hand. There was certainly a power to it. The longer he held it, the more he desired to use it. To carve away at his enemies and leave them rotting husks and compelled to obey him.

“It feels powerful,” Feral muttered and he could see Maul eyeing him out of the corner of his vision.

“It is, whatever its origin.” Maul confirmed. “It ebbs and flows with the Dark Side. This will be of great benefit to our efforts.”

Finally Feral put the short blade away and focused on his brother.

“Do you think Zaiya was successful?” he asked, looking out the view port.

“Undoubtedly,” Maul replied. There was something about the way he’d said it that made Feral give him a look. His elder brother was clearly smitten, despite the distance he tried to put between them. Hopefully Feral’s stern warning had indeed done its job.

The two seemed in good spirits when they'd all last been together. So much had happened in such a short span of time, he began to wonder… would Brutus even recognise him now? Did he miss him? With a sigh, Feral shook his head internally. There was no time for thoughts like that. He just had to deal with what was handed to him. Perhaps Brutus would forgive them one day. Perhaps he would return to Dathomir… provided they weren't hunted down by Jedi first.

Notes:

Hello friends! Here I am again with a chapter after far too long of being away! Goodness me, how frustrating!

As I mentioned in the Q&A post, things are hectic schedule wise and I haven't solidified what schedule I need in regard to posting. I'll figure it out. I hope you are all well, I just got back from a short trip and honestly I miss writing, I think I will have to push myself to write a bit, the motivation isn't there but perhaps I can trick myself into getting back to work.

I have rather enjoyed writing Feral's POV this chapter and tbh there is a lot of character development in the next few chapters for him so I am enjoying that. …You might not though… it's a bit… ouchies. Anyway, I hope you all had a wonderful Star Wars Day and I hope to post a new chapter sooner rather than later. Either way, I hope you enjoy and as always please please feel free to leave comments, or give feedback, I love hearing it, I have some comments that honestly I want to frame and post on my wall. I love them, and I appreciate the heck out of you guys. See you next time!

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