Chapter 15: Clan or Creed

Jarek lay in the dark, sleep an elusive thing. The blindfold that covered his eyes pressed gently against his face. The velvety cloth blocked out all forms of light whether it be from sun or moon. So absolute was the darkness it could just as easily have been midday as midnight, though Jarek new better.

He wanted so badly to remove the cloth and perceive his surroundings but knew he could not. Ja'Hailir had ordered that none of the students remove their blindfolds.

"There will come a time where you may not have access to all five of your senses," the elder Mandalorian had intoned, "So you will learn what it's like to lose the sense you rely on the most." Every youth had their vision obscured by similar lengths of black cloth. They were then ordered through an obstacle course filled with tripwires, pitfalls hurtles, and climbing walls, all the while being shot at by stun blasters. "You must learn to see with more than your eyes." The path through the course had been a difficult one; many students were forced to drop out. By the end, only Jarek, Jilo, and Gaegan made it the whole way. Despite their victory, Ja'Hailir had ordered them to keep the blindfolds on for the next full rotation to drive home the lesson.

For the sake of the lesson and to prove himself Jarek had obliged.

The young man had thought the lack of sight would make it easier to sleep. In reality, the very thing that deprived him of one sense also serves to enhance the others. Without his sight, his hearing had increased tenfold to compensate. The sounds around him were so varied and comprehensive that it felt like a picture was being painted before his eyes. A young man three pallets away shifted in his sleep before his snores resumed. Another student whimpered due to an injury sustained during drills that morning. The breeze outside groaned against the side of the building. Tree branches cracked and leaves rustled sounding more like a rainstorm than a breeze. In the distance, a kroothound howled forlornly at the moon. Even his heartbeat sounded like great pounding lambeg drums in his ears.

His muscles were sore from the punishment they'd endured, and his back was still barely healed. Hungry and tired, Jarek wanted nothing more than to sink into oblivion and forget about his aches and pains.

It didn't come. Growling in frustration Jarek contemplated removing the cloth, yearning for the rest he so desired. The thought of another soul-wrenching lashing stayed his hand. The memory of the stinging whip made his back twinge with phantom pain and he had to suppress a groan. Sighing Jarek placed his hands at his sides and resigned himself to a long sleepless night.

Thump, thump...thump, thump...

Jarek heard it then. A rhythmic pulse.

Thump, thump...thump, thump...

A heartbeat-like his own, but at the same time different. Lighter, like the beating of bird wings. He could feel it...no... sense it through the maelstrom of ambient noise.

Thump, thump...thump, thump...

Lifting a hand up off the mat he pressed it flat on the floor. Jarek did exactly what Ja'Hailir had instructed; he saw with more than his eyes. He sensed through the floor, and past the bodies of the other students. Picking out the steady breathes of the youths Jarek pushed them to the side and focused on the pulse.

Thump, thump...thump, thump...

There it was, as familiar as his own name, and as welcome as a sunrise. The heartbeat of the one he cared for. The heart of the one he loved.

"Jilo," he whispered.

And in the endless darkness, he heard the softest of replies, "I'm here."

The youth hit the ground, his face spotted with blood and fresh bruises. Groaning with pain and exhaustion he tried to rise only to fall. He coughed; flecks of blood spattered the stones beneath his face. He was defeated.

Jilo stood over her opponent-former opponent-wearing only her training outfit and sporting her own set of forming bruises. Sweat soaked her clothing and her lungs still heaved to take in the oxygen expended during the protracted conflict. Her fists remained raised in the ready position. The guard would not drop until the fight was called.

The call did not come. Jarek watched from the edge of the fighting circle as Ja'Halir strode towards the center. Jilo's eyes flickered to him in confusion but her guard remained up. The youths all around the circle exchanged glances. The master only ever entered a training session when a lesson needed to be delivered. Jarek swallowed the nervous lump at what lesson Ja'Halir would make of either the defeated youth or Jilo.

Physically the senior Mandalorian towered over a head taller than the young woman. His sheer presence and withering gaze made them all feel child-sized. When that gaze turned from the downed trainee to Jilo, she visibly quivered with nerves.

"Finish him, Jilo," he stated. The utter calm in the rasping tone made it sound like he just ordered her clean her hands before a meal. No sympathy or remorse. Not cold, but dispassionate. The young woman looked up at him with obvious confusion. "He has failed. Failure is unacceptable." From his belt, he produced a kal, not unlike the one Jarek owned. Jilo's confusion morphed into shock at what he was asking her to do. No—commanding her to do.

The youths and several the instructors also exchanged looks of apprehension. Ja'Halir wasn't above brutal tactics to drive home a lesson, but this-ordering another student to...kill another? Jarek felt his throat go dry at the implications.

Jilo swallowed once. She couldn't bring herself to look Ja'Halir in the eye. "Master," she murmured, "he is beaten. I have won-"

"You have not won while your opponent still draws breath, Jilo," the Master of the Watch snapped. Though his voice barely registered above a whisper, it still made the entire group flinch as if he had shouted.

Jilo's hands fell to her side. Her knuckles whitened as they tightened into fists. Her entire body shook in either fear or determination, Jarek could not tell. The tears welling up in her eyes were unmistakable. After one glance at the kal, her eyes fell to the floor. Ever so slowly she shook her head. "I... can't," she murmured, "I'm sorry." Her face turned up to stare directly into the master's eyes. "I can't kill him."

The instructors and students alike shifted nervously at the act of defiance. No-one ever declined a request from the Master of the Death Watch. Ja'Halir's expression might as well be carved out of stone. No emotion registered. But Jarek saw the fire in his eyes that engulfed Jilo's resistance in an instant.

Ja'Halir's hand moved with the speed the belayed his age. Jarek's sharp eyes barely caught the flash of steel in the lamplight, and a spray of crimson. His heart hammered in his chest when he realized it was blood. Jilo's blood. The young woman's head snapped to the side as she fell to her knees. Hands clawed at the left side of her face. The skin had been split open from the corner of her mouth to the bridge of her nose. Her jaw clamped shut against the pain muffling the scream that strained her vocal cords.

With cries of alarm and concern, several students, including Jarek, took involuntary steps forward. Jarek was an Outcast and treated as such by his peers, but Jilo was respected and well-liked by many. To see her be made point of some lesson rattled them all. It was only due to the sharp orders of the instructors and Ja'Halir's freezing stare that they halted.

"Mercy is weakness," Ja'Halir declared, his voice rising to a conversational tone, and yet with each syllable caused every youth to step back to their original position in the circle. He gestured at Jilo with the kal but continued to look out at the crowd. "There is no room for mercy in Kyr'tsad." He spared a glance down at Jilo who looked up at him from between blood-soaked fingers. He arched an eyebrow expectantly.

Jilo looked up at the Master with a mixture of anguish and anger. Slowly she stood, one hand still pressed to her cheek to staunch the flow. Tears mixed with blood dripped down her face.

"S-Str..." Her voice stuttered as she tried the form words around the pain in her jaw. "Strength is life," she finally said standing as straight as she could, "for the strong have the right to rule." Jilo faltered and Jarek willed her the strength to keep going. Her eyes shimmered with fresh tears and she had to blink them away before continuing. "Honor is life, for with no honor one may as well be dead." Her tone became stronger. "Loyalty is life, for without one's clan one has no purpose." Just then her eyes locked with Ja'Halir's and the fire returned to the brown of her iris's. "Death is life, one should die as they have lived."

"Stop flinching," Jarek whispered as Jilo tried to pull away from him yet again. He admitted to not having the gentlest hands, but she needed the salve-brush or risk the cut getting infected. The young woman nodded slightly, biting her lip against the sting of her wound. She put on a brave face, but Jarek could tell the punishment vexed her.

The teenagers back gave an involuntary pang of sympathy. It hadn't been all that long ago that it had been Jilo nursing him in his bed. Now here in the dead of night, it was he who treated her. She had born the lesson well. Rising just as he had proved to all she was worthy of being there.

Looking at Jilo now, he wondered if his countenance had been equally twisted with anger and doubt. He wasn't sure what to say to ease her troubled mind. She had always been the one filled with maternal wisdom beyond her years. Myler had always shown frank honesty when it came to such matters. Jarek didn't know what to say. "I told you," he whispered, not wanting to wake any of the other youths. "I warned you," he said bluntly, referring to the hard lesson he learned about showing weakness.

"Yes. You did," she said softly, and without looking at him, eyes locked on some distant thought. Jarek paused in his ministrations and looked at her with utter bewilderment.

Then she willingly showed mercy knowing the consequences!? What did she have to prove? She was one of the strongest among them! It made no sense incurring the wrath of Ja'Halir. For what? Just for the sake of pride? "Then why?" he asked completely at a loss at her true motivations.

The young woman seemed to be avoiding his gaze. "Why?" he asked again when she didn't answer right away.

Jilo looked up at him and locked eyes. The intensity of her gaze made him recoil slightly. He saw the same fire that she had thrown back at Ja'Halir during the latter parts of the creed. When her next words came, they hissed and burned with barely restrained vehemence. "Because I did not join Death Watch to kill my own people!"