Lost Tribe of the Sith 05 - Star Wars Purgatory

truth. These sporting events were always succession struggles by proxy. The rival factions might try to win Candra’s favor by allowing her entry to win, but the newest High Lord wasn’t going to agitate Grand Lord Venn. Not today.
    “We’re going to have to win sometime,” Ori grumbled.
    “Not today,” Candra said. Campion Dey was as good as dead.
    The shell-horn sounding, the field dissolved immediately into a cloud of dust and blood. There was no strategy to rake-riding, no posturing. The riders had their lightsabers, but anyone with sense minded the reins and nothing else. Like any Saber, Ori loved agood fight—but this was nothing more than a brawl with animals: titans, lurching about, ripping into one another.
    And her family’s entry was simply there to dress the place, no better than the flowers in the—
    “Look!”
    All eyes turned to Campion Dey, whose uvak reared back suddenly on its clawed feet. It charged ahead, razor-tipped wings outstretched. But instead of goring the opponent stumbling haplessly before it, the creature leapt …
    … and
flew
. Wings that shouldn’t work pumped mightily, allowing uvak and rider to bound from the melee toward the grandstands.
    Dey, standing in his saddle, raised his red lightsaber and screamed something Ori couldn’t hear. He was in control, all right. Lighting her own weapon, Ori leapt atop the railing, ready to pounce if he came near. But the lumbering behemoth passed to the left, awkwardly clawing its way upward through the panicked crowd toward the Grand Lord’s luxury compartment, above.
    Ori saw Lillia Venn stand, unflinching, as the attacker scaled the stone bleachers toward her. Raising her shaking hands, the Grand Lord unleashed a torrent of dark side energy. Blue fire crackling all along its wingspan, the surprised animal fell backward onto the lower seating, throwing its rider free. The Luzos leapt from the royal box, their own weapons red blurs as they plunged toward the would-be assassin.
    “Mother, get back!” Ori yelled.
    Across the way, a Keshiri aide closed the shutters to the Grand Lord’s compartment. Ori now did the same, knocking over large vases of Jelph’s flowers in the process. She turned back to see her mother, staggering, paralyzed before the spectacle.
    “What happened, Mother?” They’d known CampionDey for years, supporting his training. What could have caused his mad act?
    Candra simply shook her head, blood draining from a face that had looked youthful only moments before. “You … you’d better go, Ori.”
    “The other Sabers are dealing with Dey,” Ori said, guarding the entrance to the compartment.
    “That’s not what I mean.”
    Ori looked at her mother, stunned. “We didn’t do this. We don’t have anything to worry about. Do we?” She took the older woman’s arm. “Mother,
do we
?”
    Summoning some unseen reserve of calm, Candra straightened. “I don’t know what just happened. But I
will
know, one way or another.” She stepped past her daughter and opened the door. Outside, Sith and Keshiri dashed madly down the Korsinata’s exterior ramps.
    “Mother!”
    Candra looked back with sad eyes. “I can’t talk now, Ori. Just get to the estate and make sure the slaves know I won’t be coming home tonight.” She disappeared into the crowd.
    A star fell harmlessly from the sky. Landing on a hill, it provided light through the night, causing the gardens of Kesh to flourish as never before.
    Until it rose again, setting everything afire. The stones of Ori’s home fell to dust before the hot wind, exposing her to the inferno. Charred and dying, she’d chased the star into the jungle to ask why it had destroyed her world. It answered: “Because you thought me a friend.”
    Ori had experienced the Force vision during her second day as a Tyro, the lowest level in the Tribe’s hierarchy. It had never meant anything to her. But arriving at Starfall, her mother’s country estate south of Tahv,she’d had occasion to remember it. A procession of Keshiri laborers was exiting the marbled mansion, carrying belongings to a pyre on the lawn.
    Her
laborers.
Her
belongings.
    Leaving Shyn by the columns lining the front walk, Ori ran toward the bonfire. Drawing her lightsaber, she charged the frail purple figure directing the work: her mother’s caretaker.
    “What’s going on?” Ori grabbed the man. “Who told you to do this?”
    Recognizing his mistress’s daughter, the Keshiri looked furtively to