Song of Fire and Ice

Part 27 of the Star Wars story. We’re getting closer and closer to the end guys.
Enjoy

Song of Fire and Ice
Two things happened at the same time. Turge recoiled backwards, like a whipped puppy before its abusive master. At the same time, the Sith shit lightning at them. Thick, fat, yellow bolts ran towards Wraith.
“Look out,” he said. He barrelled into the beast, and ended up in front of him. Red lighting shot from Wraith and met the Sith’s. It was now a battle of wills and Force as the opposing lighting pushed against each other.
Wraith was straining under the pressure. This Sith was more powerful or perhaps the initial battles had taken their tall on Wraith. He glanced at Turge who remained petrified. He was going to be useless in this situation. Wraith redirected both his and his opponent’s lightning to the metal struts at the side of the arena. The electricity went haywire and was sucked into the metal. The Sith faltered at the unexpected tactic.
Wraith teleported behind him and twisted in mid-air. A flame coloured lightsaber arced down. The Sith was covered in shadows, obscuring his form and features. Wraith’s ligtsabers struck a barrier of darkness and he was nearly thrown off in recoil. But he levitated himself and cartwheeled in the air. This time he brought both his ligtsabers down in a Jar’Kai technique called Twin Strike. It was a power strike, designed to smash at any defence. The twin ligtsabers met darkness and surely enough, broke through.
A red lightsaber, held horizontally, blocked his dual strike. Wraith noticed the orange leathery hand holding a black cortosis lightsaber.
“When do I have the pleasure of duelling?” asked Wraith as he pushed against his opponent.
A muffled voice came from under the shadows. “I am Darth Ozar.” He channelled the Force to push Wraith backwards. The latter was thrown off his feet but managed to land gracefully on his feet.
“I know all about you, Darth Wraith,” continued Ozar. “I remember your master, Darth Mortris. We studied together.”
“I am no longer Sith,” shot back Wraith.
“Once a Sith always a Sith,” snarled Ozar. He reached out and Wraith felt a Force Choke around his neck. He was lifted up and felt his windpipe being crushed. “It seems I am the only hidden Sith remaining. Darth Bizu and Darth Annuk have managed to successfully eradicate themselves. You have killed Darth Mortris and that clown, Darth Sidious, is having the time of his life playing politician. No matter, I’ll kill you and fend for myself. That is the way of the Sith.”
Wraith fought down the initial bouts of panic and tried to concentrate. The Force choke was too strong at this point so he had to break Ozar’s concentration. He tried to make the ground move but Ozar’s influence interrupted his attempts. The very ground was under the Sith’s power. As his breath began failing his mind took him back to his training sessions with his former master – the one when he tried to drown his own apprentice.
That was it: water.
The mutant template was human and the weather outside indicated heavy signs of humidity and moisture. There were humans in the compound and none had trouble breathing. Meaning that there were both oxygen and hydrogen in the air. Wraith nudged tem together and water formed around Darth Ozar and his shadow cloak. The water became a cage, a globe of liquid which encased the Sith. Wraith redirected the energy of the Force choke into the water, and compressed.
But the shadows held fast against the water currents.
“Foolish boy. I have dominion over everything here. You can never match me.”
“Dominate this,” managed to say Wraith. The water gushed and became a series of ice spikes which shot into the Sith. The Dark Lord let out a scream and his Force Choke disappeared. Wraith fell on his knees and gasped loudly.
“Curse you.” Darth Ozar held a hand to his face where blood was gushing down. The ice spikes had shredded large portions of the shadow cloak, revealing the Sith beneath. He was Devaronian: his horns curved backwards, giving him a rather demonic appearance. His skin was a dull orange and leathery. He wore an ornate vest and cloak with several gold markings. He had black Sith tattoos around his shoulders and chest. His eyes were sulphuric yellow: a mark of the Dark Side.
Wraith ran to one side, enhancing his pace with the Force. Ozar shot lightning and electrical destruction inches very closed behind Wraith. Suddenly the latter leapt over the lightning and dashed towards Ozar. The Sith sent out a Force blast, forcing Wraith to drop and skid under it. Keeping his momentum, Wraith lunged upwards. Ozar’s red lightsaber, acting of its own volition, scythed at him. Wraith’s left blade blocked it. At the same time the Sith came up from the other side and his shadows shot at Wraith. He blocked the shadows with his other saber and found himself straining as both attacks pressed against his outstretched arms. He let out a cry and the Force erupted. Lightning and power went through his body. He directed electricity into Ozar’s saber – its owner was still controlling it telekinetically. Wraith couldn’t short it out: Ozar was too clever for that.
Instead he pulled his lightsabers into him and twisted. Both red blade and shadow blade skewered his torso. But Wraith had become intangible and the momentum of his spin sent the shadows flying wildly into nothing. The lightsaber shot through Wraith and into Ozar – blade first.
The Sith grunted as he caught his own weapon and saved himself with his shadows. Wraith’s weapons passed through him and he conjoined them. In an instant he was on top of Ozar, hacking away at his obsidian powers like a buzz saw. The Sith may have had the advantage of siphoning power from his facility, but Wraith was the better warrior. He landed a slash across Ozar’s chest as the Sith blocked the other end of his weapon with his red plasma blade. He channelled a push through the weapon and once again both fighters were separated.
Darth Ozar’s rage and fear consumed him and sent him over the edge. He sucked even more power from the facility, gorging himself on the despair he created. The Dark Side powers manifested in a wave of darkness emanating from his body. The shadows coalesced into an enormous had which smashed down on Wraith.
He was pressed flat against the ground facing the ceiling. All around him was negative energy. He had envisioned the giant hand slamming on him but only when he saw the Force. Now it simply looked like an extremely potent gravity field. But he felt the pressure on top of him as if a space ship had just landed on his chest. His own Force powers were keeping his body from being crushed but it was only a matter of time before Ozar’s overwhelming power crushed him like an ant. He needed help, and fast.
His eyes fell on Turge, who cowered against a corner. His mind connected with his.
‘You must fight,’ called out Wraith. But he saw fear like a chain, constricting the giant white beast.
‘Fight it,’ yelled Wraith. With the last of his strength, he grasped at that chair and pushed against it. He poured all of his hope into Turge and finally a single link snapped.
‘Fight it, my friend.’
Turge screamed and ripped the shackles around his mind off.
Wraith was snapped back to reality where he found he had reached the last of his strength. Turge charged into Ozar, who had not paid him any attention, and sent the Sith flying into a wall.
“Thank you,” he grunted at Wraith.
Wraith coughed in return. He could already feel Ozar regaining his power. This was a battle they could not win.
“We need to leave, Turge.”
“No,” grunted the mutant as he snapped off a metal strut and swung it like a bat. “I kill Evil Man.” He charged at Ozar and the two were locked in a deadly embrace of endurance. But Turge would die: this much Wraith knew. He had to plan an escape route.
It was the feces all around the arena that gave him his idea. He manipulated the methane molecules, increasing their volume. Sucking in a deep breath, he filled the entire arena with the noxious gas. Ozar’s and Turgu’s movements became slow and sluggish. Turge tipped over, unconscious.
“What are you doing?” Ozar’s voice was hoarse. Wraith focused all the gas on Ozar and used the Force to create a spark.
The gas lit up like a bonfire, engulfing Ozar. Wraith Force gripped the giant mutant and pulled him away from the flames. He grabbed the mutant and focused a second flame against the door. It cut the frame open like a welder’s torch and he dragged the unconscious mutant out of the room. The arena had been revealed with a special material, preventing Wraith from outside communication or teleporting out of there.
Once he was out he channelled Force lightning into Turge, shocking him awake. Flames roared behind them, soon to reach them as well.
“Move it!” yelled Wraith as he dragged the hunkering giant along the corridor. They burst from the main entrance and into the Citadel. Fire roared from the building and the citizens were too busy saving themselves and their houses to notice either of them.
Elara brought the shuttle down.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Wraith pushed Turge inside.
“Go, go, go,” he yelled as he climbed in and shut the hatch behind him.
“Somebody tell me what’s going on?” yelled Elara as she drove the shuttle off.
“Darth Ozar,” gasped Wraith. “He’s too powerful. We have to destroy the facility.”
A devious smile stretched on Elara’s face. “I can handle that,” she said as she extracted a detonator. They could hear two more explosions shudder the facility, even form the sky.
“Two packs of charges,” she explained.
“I have never loved you more than I do right now,” said Wraith in relief.
“Remember that nect time we visit my mother,” she quipped back.
After reaching hyperspace and settling Turge down in a quiet corner, did Wraith have a moment to quietly reflect.
“He’s still alive,” he said. “I can feel it.”
“How can it be?” asked Elara. “Nothing could survive that.”
“And yet I sense that our final confrontation with him has yet to come,” insisted Wraith. “We may have taken his source of power but the Sith himself still survives.”
He placed his hand gently on hers and their fingers interlaced.

“Do not worry,” he said. “I have a feeling that we are approaching the end.”
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