Chapter Fourteen: Revalations
Revan walked the rock-strewn surface of Dravor Minor. He had seen the small shuttle descend a little while ago; he awaited only his adversary. Would he come to the stage that Revan had chosen, or would he seek to move their drama to one more suitable for him? No, he would not back down or seek to gain an advantage. He would come, and they would face each other as honorable warriors.
He heard a sound behind him and turned around. A tall figure stood on the small ridge surrounding the bowl-like depression Revan had chosen for their duel. He was encased in black armor, with a black slitted mask covering his head. In his hand was a long blade, made of gleaming black metal.
Mandalore stepped down into the bowl and greeted his foe. "I'm here, Revan. We meet at last, as warriors should, to do battle and decide the outcome of this war."
Revan walked toward the Mandalorian, a smile barely perceptible on his face. "Yes, Mandalore, today we will decide the war. Your depredations are at an end."
Mandalore startled Revan by laughing, "You are a warrior, Revan, with a warrior's heart, but you are a fool if you think this was my own doing. We are the vanguard, sent to test the Republic; and test it we did. Were it not for you we would have blazed a path to the heart of the galaxy, and the Republic would cower under the might of oppressors you cannot imagine. Of course, it would not matter to us, our honor is obtained through victory. Now that that is taken from us, there is only one thing left to do!"
Mandalore lunged unexpectedly with his blade, deadly force behind his strike. His mind reeling from the revalation, Revan barely ignited his lightsaber in time to turn aside the blow. The gleaming metal screeched against the brilliant blue blade, but was unhurt. Revan had fought enough Mandalorians to know that they made their vibroswords out of a strange alloy that was designed to deflect energy and was impervious to damage by lightsabers.
The black-armored warrior pressed his advantage relentlessly, driving Revan back against the edge of the depression, hemming him against the rock wall, and limiting the Jedi's movement. Revan blocked and parried with all his skill in the confined space. For all his armored bulk, Mandalore was fast and powerful, nearly stronger than Revan himself. But a Jedi's strength flows from the Force, and Revan began to mix his own attacks in with his parries, and gradually drove the powerful warrior back.
With the advantage of surprise negated, Mandalore settled into a deadly dance with the Jedi, each man testing the other, searching for weaknesses, looking for openings. Round and round the defile they danced, like figures in a macabre ballroom, the only sound the deadly music of their clashing blades.
Mandalore was strong, but he had no Force to bolster his body, and fatigue gradually set into his muscles. His blows began to lose their strength, and he felt the advantage go to Revan. But his was an ancient race of warriors, with a proud tradition. He would not give in so easily. He feinted, then slipped, giving Revan an intentional opening. Revan brought his blade crashing down, only to find it blocked by a black armored gauntlet made from the same material as the vibrosword. Mandalore quickly stabbed up at his opponent, feeling his blade hit flesh, then shoved backward, clearing space between them.
Revan looked down for an instant and saw the dark spot growing on his robes where he had been struck. A cold calm settled over him and he raised his sword again. He let the currents of the Force flow over and through him, guiding his hands and feet. He pressed his attack forward once again, the blue blade singing its deadly song. Mandalore retreated, desperately swinging his sword to block blows which were coming faster than he believed possible. A chill smile appeared on Revan's face as he moved his blade in ever faster strikes, feeling his enemy's reserves dwindling. Only Malak could have withstood the speed of his attack, and without warning, Mandalore saw his sword go flying across the defile, his lower arm still gripping the hilt.
He sank to his knees, knowing he was defeated, accepting his end with the dignity befitting a warrior. "You've won, Revan. Make an end, it is your right as a warrior." For a moment, Revan hesitated; here was an unarmed prisoner, due mercy according to the Jedi Code. He extinguished his blade.
Mandalore understood. "You cheat me of my last honor? So you are a Jedi after all; but know this Revan: if you follow our trail back out of the galaxy, you will lose too."
Something in his words stung Revan, and he swept his arm up, igniting the saber and severing the Mandalorian's head. He thought back to another time he was issued that warning, and smiled. "Maybe someday. But not today."