A/N: I have no clue what the Trials really are. I wasn't able to hunt down George and ask him (that man is never around when you want him to be!). I have postulated that it is akin to Luke's experience in the cave in ESB, a vision or mental challenge rather than a purely physical one. Yes, I am aware that this is slightly cheesy, but at least I'm actually SHOWING my Trials, not cheating (ahem, Twinks, lolol)
Chapter Eight: Trials and Error
It was dark and cold. Anakin wondered the cavernous room, searching for… he didn't even know what he was looking for. An opponent to defeat, he supposed. These were the Trials, a sacred- and secret- passage for the Jedi. There were no specifics when it came to the Trials.
He heard a sound behind him, and he turned quickly, lightsaber igniting and flashing through the air. There stood his adversary, the nameless Sith from Naboo. Anakin felt rage fill him at the sight of the creature that killed Master Qui-Gon. He breathed in, channeling the rage, sending it outward, into the Force where it would no longer plague him.
He struck the first blow, which the Sith blocked easily, and soon they were locked into deadly combat. Anakin remembered the Sith's skills, the deadly talent with his double sided 'saber. But he had never been up against them before.
But he seemed to be getting the upper hand, forcing the Sith back, away from him. He had driven him toward the wall, into the corner, when the Sith spoke. "You've failed, Anakin." He had never heard the Sith speak, didn't even know if he could, but he knew the voice wasn't his own despite that. The voice was Qui-Gon's. "Of course you've failed. You're just a slave boy from a backwater planet. You couldn't even save your mother."
Anger and pain tore through him at Qui-Gon's words. They were said from the Sith's mouth, but it was Qui-Gon's voice. Qui-Gon who had rescued him, Qui-Gon who had assured he would be trained with his dying breath. Qui-Gon said he failed.
"You're a pitiful excuse for a Jedi, Skywalker."
Anakin closed his eyes, trying to focus. He was not a failure, he was not pitiful. He repeated the words inside his head like a mantra, his fear growing into anger with each beat. He was a powerful Jedi, he was the Chosen One. He would not be mocked.
He lunged at the Sith, who flew over him. They both spun to face each other, but as the nameless Sith spun, he transformed. He was no longer the tattooed creature Obi-Wan had bested on Naboo. It was Dooku he faced, with his rich, cultured voice and his oddly shaped lightsaber, the 'saber that had taken his arm.
Anakin snarled. "Dooku."
The count smiled. "The Council was right about you, Anakin. You were too old. The fear was already in you, the hate. Give into your anger. Defeat me. Or should I take your other hand?"
Anakin leapt at Dooku, slashing with his lightsaber. The count parried the blow easily. Anakin knew he was being led in a dance. Dooku was better with a lightsaber, a technique perfected over eight decades, taught to him by Yoda himself. But Anakin held his own, blocking blows that might have killed him had the Force not been running through him, guiding his moves.
Dooku's attacks lightened suddenly. "You guard your life. You don't wish to die. But you've broken the Code, dishonored your commission. What makes you think your worth anything now?"
Anakin struck out blindly, rage and hate clouding his vision. His lightsaber sliced through the air with a deadly hum. But it met with only air and he realized too late his mistake. Dooku had sidestepped, not even bothering to block the blow. Anakin's right, mechanical arm was outstretched, ready to deliver a blow.
With a neat cut, Dooku sliced it off.
Anakin fell to the ground, shock, not pain, driving him to his knees. He expected Dooku to deliver a killing blow, along with a witty comment that drove home Anakin's failure. But the only sound in the cavernous room was heavy, mechanized breathing.
The sound sent chills up Anakin's spine. He raised his head, looking for Dooku, but found himself face to face with a masked man. He wore a full suit, heavy and black. The sound of his breathing reverberated off the walls. Anakin stood slowly, grasping the hilt of his lightsaber awkwardly with his left hand.
The dark lord raised his 'saber. It was ruby red, the color of a Sith's. That must be what the man was- a Sith from ancient times. Anakin quickly gained his footing, ready to fight the masked man.
They attacked in unison. Anakin was able to guess the moves the other would make, but the dark lord seemed to do the same. Their fighting style was more than similar, it was exact. Anakin felt a tendril of dread creep into his stomach. It was like fighting his mirror image.
Finally, the masked Sith made a mistake- the very mistake Anakin had made on Geonosis, the move that had cost him his hand. Anakin didn't hesitate, but slashed with his lightsaber, cleanly disarming him, and removing the man's hand …
Only to find it as mechanical as his own had been. Could the man be all machine? Anakin thought, eyes widening. Had someone built a droid to fight with the Jedi arts?
The masked man breathed in deeply. "I will destroy you, Anakin Skywalker."
Anakin smiled, satisfaction written plain across his face. "I don't think so." He slashed again, the lightsaber going for a blow that would have sliced the masked Sith clean in half.
It was too late to stop when Anakin realized the Sith no longer stood there. In his place was Obi-Wan.
"No!" Anakin cried, but his arm wouldn't stop, refused to move at anything other than his unarmed master.
Obi-Wan crumpled to the ground before him. Anakin surged forward, moving aside his robe, only to find a man- no, a boy, actually, with tousled blond hair and ice blue eyes- staring up at him in agony. "Father!" he cried, body wracked with some immeasurable pain.
Anakin fell backwards, eyes wide with shock, anguish and fear. He closed them, trying to calm his ragged breath. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in the center of the Jedi Council room. He collapsed into a heap on the floor, physical and mental pain mixing with exhaustion.
Yoda stood above him, eyes dark with worry. He shook his head. "Wrong we were. Failed you have, Anakin Skywalker."
Chapter Eight: Trials and Error
It was dark and cold. Anakin wondered the cavernous room, searching for… he didn't even know what he was looking for. An opponent to defeat, he supposed. These were the Trials, a sacred- and secret- passage for the Jedi. There were no specifics when it came to the Trials.
He heard a sound behind him, and he turned quickly, lightsaber igniting and flashing through the air. There stood his adversary, the nameless Sith from Naboo. Anakin felt rage fill him at the sight of the creature that killed Master Qui-Gon. He breathed in, channeling the rage, sending it outward, into the Force where it would no longer plague him.
He struck the first blow, which the Sith blocked easily, and soon they were locked into deadly combat. Anakin remembered the Sith's skills, the deadly talent with his double sided 'saber. But he had never been up against them before.
But he seemed to be getting the upper hand, forcing the Sith back, away from him. He had driven him toward the wall, into the corner, when the Sith spoke. "You've failed, Anakin." He had never heard the Sith speak, didn't even know if he could, but he knew the voice wasn't his own despite that. The voice was Qui-Gon's. "Of course you've failed. You're just a slave boy from a backwater planet. You couldn't even save your mother."
Anger and pain tore through him at Qui-Gon's words. They were said from the Sith's mouth, but it was Qui-Gon's voice. Qui-Gon who had rescued him, Qui-Gon who had assured he would be trained with his dying breath. Qui-Gon said he failed.
"You're a pitiful excuse for a Jedi, Skywalker."
Anakin closed his eyes, trying to focus. He was not a failure, he was not pitiful. He repeated the words inside his head like a mantra, his fear growing into anger with each beat. He was a powerful Jedi, he was the Chosen One. He would not be mocked.
He lunged at the Sith, who flew over him. They both spun to face each other, but as the nameless Sith spun, he transformed. He was no longer the tattooed creature Obi-Wan had bested on Naboo. It was Dooku he faced, with his rich, cultured voice and his oddly shaped lightsaber, the 'saber that had taken his arm.
Anakin snarled. "Dooku."
The count smiled. "The Council was right about you, Anakin. You were too old. The fear was already in you, the hate. Give into your anger. Defeat me. Or should I take your other hand?"
Anakin leapt at Dooku, slashing with his lightsaber. The count parried the blow easily. Anakin knew he was being led in a dance. Dooku was better with a lightsaber, a technique perfected over eight decades, taught to him by Yoda himself. But Anakin held his own, blocking blows that might have killed him had the Force not been running through him, guiding his moves.
Dooku's attacks lightened suddenly. "You guard your life. You don't wish to die. But you've broken the Code, dishonored your commission. What makes you think your worth anything now?"
Anakin struck out blindly, rage and hate clouding his vision. His lightsaber sliced through the air with a deadly hum. But it met with only air and he realized too late his mistake. Dooku had sidestepped, not even bothering to block the blow. Anakin's right, mechanical arm was outstretched, ready to deliver a blow.
With a neat cut, Dooku sliced it off.
Anakin fell to the ground, shock, not pain, driving him to his knees. He expected Dooku to deliver a killing blow, along with a witty comment that drove home Anakin's failure. But the only sound in the cavernous room was heavy, mechanized breathing.
The sound sent chills up Anakin's spine. He raised his head, looking for Dooku, but found himself face to face with a masked man. He wore a full suit, heavy and black. The sound of his breathing reverberated off the walls. Anakin stood slowly, grasping the hilt of his lightsaber awkwardly with his left hand.
The dark lord raised his 'saber. It was ruby red, the color of a Sith's. That must be what the man was- a Sith from ancient times. Anakin quickly gained his footing, ready to fight the masked man.
They attacked in unison. Anakin was able to guess the moves the other would make, but the dark lord seemed to do the same. Their fighting style was more than similar, it was exact. Anakin felt a tendril of dread creep into his stomach. It was like fighting his mirror image.
Finally, the masked Sith made a mistake- the very mistake Anakin had made on Geonosis, the move that had cost him his hand. Anakin didn't hesitate, but slashed with his lightsaber, cleanly disarming him, and removing the man's hand …
Only to find it as mechanical as his own had been. Could the man be all machine? Anakin thought, eyes widening. Had someone built a droid to fight with the Jedi arts?
The masked man breathed in deeply. "I will destroy you, Anakin Skywalker."
Anakin smiled, satisfaction written plain across his face. "I don't think so." He slashed again, the lightsaber going for a blow that would have sliced the masked Sith clean in half.
It was too late to stop when Anakin realized the Sith no longer stood there. In his place was Obi-Wan.
"No!" Anakin cried, but his arm wouldn't stop, refused to move at anything other than his unarmed master.
Obi-Wan crumpled to the ground before him. Anakin surged forward, moving aside his robe, only to find a man- no, a boy, actually, with tousled blond hair and ice blue eyes- staring up at him in agony. "Father!" he cried, body wracked with some immeasurable pain.
Anakin fell backwards, eyes wide with shock, anguish and fear. He closed them, trying to calm his ragged breath. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in the center of the Jedi Council room. He collapsed into a heap on the floor, physical and mental pain mixing with exhaustion.
Yoda stood above him, eyes dark with worry. He shook his head. "Wrong we were. Failed you have, Anakin Skywalker."