[Chapter Eighteen]
Torches burned low, a dozen cloaked figures were still, and shadows consumed the end. Luke walked the long carpet, feeling malevolence radiating from either side. He dislodged a torch, stopped, and raised the light to reveal Darth Vader; or what had once been the Sith Lord. Now there was a skeleton, part bone, part cybernetics, its organs emptied out. The remains could have been there for centuries. A stench of rot entered Luke's nostrils.
"You let Blood Shard absorb you," Luke said. "A marriage of technology and the Force. But I guess you've been that, to some degree, for decades."
"Shrewd," The voice said from nowhere. "Draw your lightsaber, Jedi." A series of electrical sizzles sounded behind. Luke turned around, dropped the torch, and reached for the hilt clipped to his belt.
The figures held lightsabers. Red light played with the deepening dark. "Three at a time, else you become hindrances." They were almost on top of him an instant later.
Luke parried a blade, side-stepped another, and blocked three more strikes in succession. He swung at a minion, who defended with a sideways thrust. Luke slid his blade away, swung down in a half circle, and amputated the enemy's legs. He snatched up the extra lightsaber.
One remainder swooped for his front, weapon horizontal and meant for his chest; the second mimicked the move from behind, aimed at his lower back. They abruptly halted and slashed out when their tips came within reach. Luke spun, claimed a pair of hands and gutted the counterpart.
Three more left the nine. Luke crossed his duel blades to block crimson death.