Chapter 10: First Flight
Kart'a'Buir: Planet Kalevala:
Jarek looked at the armor and although it held sentimental value because he'd forged it with his father, it was of a very rough make. It had served its purpose out in the wild. In the Verd'Goten and even the wider world, he'd need every advantage he could get.
Back outside he shook Tebb's hand again, "Thank you ner-vode." Jarek had never called anyone of the clan 'my brother' before. At that moment he couldn't help but feel that connection with Tebb. Across the weight of years, the young man had looked past Jarek's status honored his debt of gratitude and treated him as an equal... like a brother. Jarek would not soon forget it.
"You're welcome," Tebb responded with a bright smile, "I won't keep you any longer." At Jarek's lost expression he answered his unasked question. Gesturing up a path he said, "If you need to find the ceremony it's up near the chief's morut on the hill. You can't miss it. It's the large lodge with the angry mob outside."
At the words 'angry mob Jarek thought back to what the Chief had said to him at the gate. "Teersa mentioned there were envoys from the Empire here."
"Yes," Tebb acknowledged with a wry smile, "that's what the mobs angry about. Not since the clan was exiled by the Duchess has any aruetii set foot in Kart'a'Buir. I'd expect to see some raw fruit flying. Maybe rocks. Hopefully, no blaster bolts though." He gave him an impish smile, "In any case be ready to duck."
Jarek chuckled and nodded before heading in the indicated direction. As he walked, he couldn't help but muse on his people's history. Contrary to what other's believed, he and Myler weren't as cut off from the rest of Kalevala and the galaxy at large. Myler had maintained, at no small expense, a holonet link that allowed them to keep track of current events.
He recalled from his lessons that Mandalorians played huge roles in shaping galactic history from fighting the republic alongside Sith to fighting Sith alongside the republic to setting out on their crusades to conquers great swaths of the galaxy.
Mandalore had a bloody history, but by the time of the Clone Wars, the pacifist and reformist New Mandalorian political faction controlled Mandalore's government, led by Duchess Satine Kryze. This led to internal conflict with other Mandalorian groups like Death Watch, who wanted to maintain the warrior ways of their Mandalorian heritage. An ideology that Clan Orion had supported.
This led to the Mandalorian civil war that exiled clan Orion to Kalevala, and their later involvement in the Clone Wars. Though he and Myler had remained apart from the war, Jarek wondered if his father had been involved in the Mandalorian civil war. Since it was before he was even born, it made sense that that was what lead to Myler's exile.
Then two cycles ago the Duchess was slain and Mandalore fell into chaos. Fortunately, aside from the odd scuffle, Kalevala had avoided the worse of the struggle. Now the Republic had been supplanted by the Galactic Empire. The Empire now sought the cooperation of the clans. It was an interesting time he lived in.
Enroute to the Chief's morut, haven, Jarek passed more Mandalorians enjoying the festivities; three women stood atop a makeshift stage singing a raucous tune that had many whistling, stomping, and clapping in time. Further down the road, he saw a man standing atop a roof, crowing to the setting sun even as a woman below was yelling at him to get down before he fell through fits of laughter.
He had just crossed a narrow footbridge when Jarek heard a voice he recognized call out for him. He turned to see Karst's weathered figure leaning against a post and smiled. "Karst? Is that you?"
"Careful," the merchant whispered making a padding gesture with his hand, "Pretend we never met. I was never supposed the trade with outcasts in the wilds, remember?"
"How could I forget," Jarek scoffed and added in a sarcastic tone, "How generous of you to talk to me now.
Karst rolled his eyes. "Don't be like that. You know I'll be rooting for you during the Verd'Goten." He chuckled darkly, "Can't wait to see the looks on everyone's faces when you pass."
"Thank you." Jarek was appreciative of the moral support. Gesturing to the dwelling around them he said, "So... Kart'a'Buir. I thought you preferred the wilds.
Karst shrugged and replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "Well a man can't drink alone all the time. Plus, I admit I get lonely occasionally." He made an exaggerated sigh of exasperation that made Jarek laugh. "There...I admitted it. Don't think less of me."
"Once again," Jarek replied in mock reassurance, "your secrets safe with me."
"Don't go soft on me now boy," Karst retorted with a wink and they both laughed.
Sensing the conversation had run its course Jarek started on his way, "Until next time Karst."
"Next time you'll be mando'ade," the merchant replied with a wave and disappeared into the festival.
Moments later, and after mounting a flight of stairs, Jarek came upon a dense crowd gathered before the largest structure of the settlement. A dais sat before the assembly where a half dozen figures stood. Jarek wormed his way through the restless group until he was close enough to see the stage. Whispers of dissent and anger were issued amongst the spectators. Now that he was closer, he saw Chief Teersa as well as another female warrior that shared similar features as the older woman, even armor style. Her daughter, Jarek had to assume and successor to the mantle of Clan Chief.
Also, on the stage, Jarek saw a man in full Mandalorian battle armor painted Black and grey over a tan bodysuit. He bore the House insignia of Ordo; an orb enveloped by a pair of pillars. He had a pair of blasters holstered on each thigh and like Jarek, his helmet was clipped to his belt. He was broad-shouldered with mutton chops that complemented his short Mohawk. Next to him stood a shorter thinner man wearing a clean well pressed grey officer's uniform with a cap. He must've been the Imperial envoy Teersa mentioned. Most of the negative comments he'd overheard in the crowd seemed to be directed at him.
Just then the younger woman stepped forward and raised a hand to quiet the crowd and gain their attention. "In a moment we will bless the Verd'goten." She gestured to the Imperial officer who stood a little straighter. "But first we have guests who wish to speak."
The voices of discontent started to rise before the man even spoke which prompted Teersa to step forward. "We of clan Orion have fought the Republic, the Jedi, and even one another," Her voice though raspy with age echoed around the assembly with resonance. She raised a finger to indicate a point, "but we have yet to clash with this new Empire. The other clans have agreed to parlay with these men. So, should we."
The Imperial delegate, such as he was, stepped forward. He looked nervous but kept his posture straight. He cleared his throat and began to speak. "Gratitude for being allowed here today." His voice lacked the resonance and authority of the chiefs, but it carried at least, "The Empire has crushed the corrupt republic your people of the Watch fought against." His accent was that of an upper-class gentry. He must've been a core-worlder or at the least educated in the core. It came across as a tad haughty but not arrogant. Arrogance was a mistake he could not afford to make in front of a crowd of armed and armored Mandalorians. "I stand here only to ask that you allow yourselves to have open commerce with the Empire and in return-" The envoy didn't get a chance to finish. He was cut off by a hail of fruit as the crowd's resentment boiled over once again. The big man in Mandalorian armor stepped forward taking a couple of the tossed produce to the chest.
"Hey! Hey, Udesii, Aliit Orion," he yelled making a placating gesture even as he ducked one last piece of food. "Aliit Orion please hold your fruit." Seeing one of their own had taken the stage, the crowd's mood cooled to a low simmer. "Now I'm Avin Solus," he declared pounded a fist to his chest in pride, "of clan Awand under House Ordo. I'm not of the Empire." He gestured out into the crowd. "I'm of the Mando'ade like you so I'll speak plainly. The Duchess and by extension the Republic were a bunch of corrupt sha'buir." There were nods and grunts of agreement. "The Republic allowed cowards like Duchess Satine to rob our people of their heritage. Forcing us to fight one another for the right to live as our ancestors did. As warriors." The more he spoke the calmer the crowd became. Those that had yet to toss food were eating instead at least. "Now the Duchess and the Republic who supported her have been dead almost a full two cycles now. Replaced by the Empire. Ruled by the Emperor whom this man represents." He gestured to the disheveled officer who was busy straightening his mussed uniform. "This envoy brings a message of cooperation that promises our people a place in the new order. Listen. Agree, don't agree, whatever. But at least listen." The crowd nodded again in agreement and Avin stepped aside to allow the Officer to speak. Teersa and her daughter were also stepping back. Jarek made his way through the crowd only to nearly collide with the large Mandalorian named Avin. "Well," he said taking the measure of the younger man, "aren't you a tad small to be wearing Beskar?"
Jarek had to crane his neck to be able to look the man in the eye. "Compared to you?" he retorted, "I doubt you'll find many to measure up against. Careful it's hard to get stretch marks out of iron."
Avin boomed with laughter that made a few nearby spectators jump. "Some fire in you. Kandosii!" he rapped a knuckle on Jarek's chest plate. "You'll fill out that armor well."
Jarek smiled liking the man's casual attitude. He jerked his head back towards the stage where the envoy was going on about the benefits of joining the Empire. "I thought your friend was about to go down in a hail of fruit," he said suppressing a snicker, "You really managed to calm the crowd down."
"Thanks. House Vizsla and its clans are still sore at the Republic for the years of repression," he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Many clans don't see the Empire much differently."
"They do wear the same uniform," Jarek pointed out. It was true. The Imperial Officer uniform was the same style worn by the Republic officer uniforms from the color down to the boots and belt buckle.
"Yeah," Avin conceded with a nod, "Different flag though." This time Jarek conceded the point with a nod. "I admit, Ordo still doesn't trust them either, but rumor has it the Protectors of Concord Dawn are leaning their way." He didn't seem to like the idea of any Mandalorians supporting the new regime. "The Night Owls on Mandalore are still resisting though," he added with a hint of pride.
"The clans of the Protectors and Night Owls aren't the clans of Vizsla, Avin," Jarek stated. Inner house/clan politics often saw rivals making deals with enemies.
"Ha. True," Avin shrugged nonchalantly, "As I said your chiefs can choose to listen or not. I was paid to make instructions. The Empire just wants to make sure the Mandalorians will stay in Mandalorian Space and side with the Empire in a pinch. Possibly even open an Imperial Academy soon. They've already established an interim government on Mandalore under Gar Saxon."
"Saxon?" Jarek questioned knowing the name well, "The mando who helped overthrow the Duchess?" Clan Saxon was a sister clan to Orion under House Vizsla. From what Myler had said it was not a happy relationship. Tense was the word he used.
"The very same," Avin confirmed with a sharp nod his tone suggesting he didn't care for Saxon, "He's leading the 'pro-Imperial' movement. Got himself a nice Viceroy-ship for his trouble."
Jarek shrugged not really caring for inter-clan/house politics. "If there's one thing I've learned," he said simply, "it's that the clans will do what's best for the clans.
"Yep." Avin agreed, "We're a practical bunch. Stubborn as a Rancor with a toothache, but practical." Jarek noticed the man eyeballing his armor. He could see he was noting the lack of clan or house insignia. "Say I notice you don't bear Clan Orion nor House Vizsla's mark. Are you-?"
Jarek finished his sentence, "-the son of an outcast. A Dar'Manda."
Avin appeared to wince at the name but didn't seem to care for its application. "I heard clan Vizsla outcasts the children of Dar'Manda." He shook his head somberly, "Seems excessively cruel to me." He cleared his throat not trying to insult him by showing pity. Jarek appreciated the gesture seeing as he neither wanted nor accepted any pity. "But even as an outcast you seem to know plenty about the wider universe especially our customs," his tone was respectful and he nodded towards him, "And you wear our armor."
"My father's dream was for me to join the clan," Jarek explained, "He prepared me for the Verd'goten sense I was seven cycles old."
"Seven?!" he exclaimed in surprise, "Color me impressed." He pounded a fist onto Jarek's chest which nearly knocked him back a step. "You're Mando'karla if anything," he declared as if daring someone to challenge his opinion. "I've no doubt you'll pass the rite. Look me up when you can. The first rounds on me. If I don't see you, the next time you're in Velmoth Port ask for Avin Solus."
Jarek returned the warrior's smile and clasped forearms with him. "I will." A horn sounded and the crowd went silent. Jarek glanced around and noticed the chief had left. At the same time, clansmen began heading down a path towards another assembly area. "I guess I should get to the blessing. Vor'e bal Ret'urcye mhi."
"To you as well," Avin replied.
Jarek followed the path down into the assembly area which was set in a massive natural amphitheater. At its head standing atop a stage were Teersa and her daughter. Jarek caught her eye and she gestured for him to join a group of two dozen youths standing just off stage. Hostile gazes turn on him as he approached. Despite wearing a new set of armor nothing covered up the fact that he was still an outcast. Amongst them was a male youth with tousled blond hair, whose blue eyes could've cut glass. It had been many cycles, but he would never forget Gaegan as the child who'd scarred him with the rock.
While some of the youths looked on him with distaste many only gave him a curious glance. One, a young woman about his age with bronze skin and raven black hair, actually smiled and nodded in greeting.
Despite the intervening years, Jarek didn't need any help in remembering her. She was the young girl from the berry patch. Jilo was her name. The years had been kind to her. She was no longer a small girl, but a young woman blossoming into adulthood. Not caring about the rest of the group Jarek took his place at the front next to Jilo. None of the youths commented lest they incur the wrath of the Chief who stood but mere feet away.
Teersa waved a hand and on cue, two dozen men and women in full beskar'gam stepped forward and formed two concentric circles before the stage. Jarek recognized the formation and knew with no small amount of excitement what he was about to witness.
Somewhere within or beyond the crown, a pair of musicians began to pound a massive lambeg drum to set the tempo. The deep base of the impact echoed through the air. The entire settlement seemed to go silent. Several beats into the rhythm the warriors in the circle began slamming their fists upon their chests in sync with one another. The sound of so much metal crashing on metal resounded like a thunderclap.
Jarek's excitement doubled. He was about to watch the Da Werda Verda. Warriors of the Shadow. He'd learned of it from Myler and had even been taught the steps, but his father had assured him that a pair of warriors conducting the pre-battle chant was nothing compared to a small army.
His father had been right.
Suddenly the drums picked up to a rapid-fire tempo that sent Jarek's heart-rate skyrocketing. Simultaneously and as one the warriors began chanting slamming their fists in time with each syllable.
Taung sa rang broka Jetiise ka'rta.
The moment the second verse began the tempo increased and the warriors switched positions to where they were slamming their fists into the armor of the warrior next to them. With each successive verse, the warriors pivoted on their right foot and hit the armor of the warrior before them. If there was no warrior, they struck themselves upon the chest.
Dha Werda Verda a'den tratu,
Coruscanta kandosii adu.
Duum motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a.
Other Mandalorians within the crowd were getting into the chant, some even pounding on their own armor. The energy was contagious and soon it sounded like the entire settlement was filled with the rage of the shadow warriors. Jarek couldn't help but get swept up in the spirit but remained still taking his cue from Teersa who remained motionless. Her body was calm and unmoving but Jarek could see the fire and pride in her eyes.
Kom'rk tsad droten troch nyn ures adenn.
Dha Werda Verda a'den tratu,
Coruscanta kandosii adu.
Duum motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a.
As the last verse came to an end the entire crowd stomped a foot raised a clenched fist into the air shouting in one clamorous voice, "OYA!" In that instant, Jarek felt something stir in his chest. His heart yearning to be a part of the group, to be able to chant along with the rest of the clan warriors.
"Ancestors hear our prayer," Teersa yelled out to the crowd of raised fists. Jarek noticed all their heads were bowed. The youth's heads were also lowered, and he hastily followed suit. "See these verd'ika," she continued to pray, "Let your wisdom of the ages lead and guide them and let your presence protect them through the Verd'goten. Welcome them into our Aliit. Witness them become a part of the Mando'ade."