Chapter 30: The Lightsaber Master

The blue blade hissed as it locked with the green one, twisting deftly as it shot past the Jedi's shoulder, the Master just ducking out of the way, her green saber swinging in an upward arch to try and catch her opponent across the back. He was too quick, the strong, lithe body twisting out of the way and bringing his lightsaber down and across her neck, and the woman hissed in pain, the green lightsaber deactivating and sliding uselessly across the floor.

"Enough, I yield," Luminara panted, her delicate hand clutching her neck where the saber struck, and Obi-Wan deactivated his blade. It had been a few weeks after the Council had received the Chancellor's datapad with the incriminating evidence against Dooku, and Kenobi could barely sit still. Meditation was made impossible by the prospect of going after the Sith once again, but this time, it wasn't to look for them, it was to kill them. It was well over two years since that fateful day on Naboo, and Obi-Wan was ready to end it all. Every day he woke up from fitful nights to launch himself into training for the mission that was certain to come, each moment he hoped that the Council would send for him, and after several weeks of anticipation, Obi-Wan was beginning to lose his patience.

So were his sparring partners.

Pong Krell laughed deeply from the sidelines, leaning back on two large, powerful hands while the other two clapped loudly. "Nicely done, Kenobi," he called in a low, rumbling voice. "The Sith are truly fearless if they don't fear you."

"There won't be much time for them to be afraid, Master Krell, they'll be dead."

The Besalisk laughed loudly. "Spoken like a true Sithkiller!"

Obi-Wan offered his hand to Luminara and helped her to her feet. "Are you alright?"

"You are better than me, Obi-Wan, I confess. There's nothing more I can possibly teach you."

Kenobi shrugged, igniting his lightsaber and spinning it effortlessly around his hand. "You ready, Master Krell?"

The Besalisk groaned as he hoisted himself to his feet, both pairs of hands interlocking and fingers extending in a cascading crack. "Do you enjoy beating on Jedi Masters, Kenobi? Is this how you deal with the Council's rejection?"

The Jedi smirked. "That and alcohol. Drown the pain in violence and booze, that's what Quinlan Vos taught me."

Krell laughed harshly. "Quinlan Vos would have taught you about physical pleasure. The violence is a beast of your own making."

He grinned devilishly. "How right you are."

"Quinlan Vos made you swear off alcohol, Obi-Wan," Luminara drawled, laying a cool cloth against the red burn on her neck.

"I swear, you kill all my fun, Luminara..."

"I need to get you back for this," the Master hissed, pointing at her neck. "See if you can make that Jedi feel fear, Pong."

Krell laughed loudly, pulling out two sabers and igniting them, one blue and one green, and both double bladed. He swung them deftly, the blue and green blades arching in the air so quickly they left trails of light behind them. "You're worse with two blades than you are with one, Kenobi," the Master growled, broad face grinning with delight. "No Soresu to fall back on with two."

Obi-Wan, smirked, holding his left hand out and Luminara's green lightsaber flew to his hand, the weapon humming to life next to his own blue weapon. "Scared, Krell?"

"Not when you don't have your idiot defensive wall. Luminara made you too good. You're impenetrable." His sabers spun swiftly at his sides, angling down at Kenobi from the Besalisk's upper arms. "But your offensive is lacking."

"I don't need an offensive if I can counterattack and kill you when you get tired." He flipped his blade around, catching the green lightsaber in a backhanded grip and holding it out in front of him, the blue saber angled over his shoulder in Soresu's defensive posture. He had been studying hard with Pong Krell in the art of fighting with two blades, but as he learned more, Kenobi realized that as an offensive attacker, he just wasn't nearly as good as he was on the defensive. Like his preference for using the Force to manipulate minds, his lightsaber combat was defensive, subversive, preferring to wear his opponent down and conserving his own energy so he could press an advantage when the opportunity presented itself.

His modification of Jar'Kai to be defensive, marrying it to the defensive Soresu, made all fights with Kenobi, long, drawn out, extremely frustrating affairs, and the longer he fought, the better Obi-Wan did. Two blades simply gave him more opportunities for counterattacking.

Krell launched himself at the much smaller Jedi, blades swinging fast and hard in a vicious offense, hoping to end the fight quickly, but each blow clashed with Kenobi's blades, sparks flying as the lightsabers hissed and cracked with impact. Obi-Wan could feel the Dark Side rolling off of him in waves, making him stronger, faster, more in tune with the Force, and he seemed to know exactly where the Master would strike next. The Code of the Sith was right. Passion made him strong. Strife and conflict made him powerful.

The nightmares continued. Every single night, he dreamt of his fight with the Sith Lord, and his death by red saber, the yellow eyes glowing. In time, Obi-Wan realized that he could change the dream. Some nights, he brought a second saber. Some nights, he fought offensively. Some nights, the fights were long, and others were very, very short, but each time had the same result: the Sith slew him, the yellow eyes alight with amusement, as if the whole thing was funny, the low laugh resonating as the Jedi died, and Obi-Wan awoke each morning in a cold sweat. His nightmares informed how he fought during the day, and he took what he learned with him at night when the nightmare would play out again.

With time and dedication, Obi-Wan believed he could change his fate. He just needed to be stronger, and the Dark Side was helping. The more in tune he was with the darkness that drove him, the longer the fight lasted, the better he did against the Sith. The result was still the same, but that would change soon enough.

Krell growled, his yellow eyes narrowing and his crested head lowering as he charged at the stalwart Jedi, but Obi-Wan deftly sidestepped past the Besalisk, his green saber striking down upon one of the Master's left arms. With a howl, Krell dropped his blue double-sided saber into his lower left arm and lashed out at Kenobi, but his sabers were up quick enough to cover his retreat, assuming a defensive against Pong's furious onslaught.

"Careful," Kenobi purred when Krell backed off, stalking around the Jedi and looking for an opening. "Your rage is throwing you off."

"I can't help that you're frustrating. If you can end the fight, why don't you, stop toying with me!"

"Honest, I'm not." He switched his stance, holding the blue blade in the backhanded grip and pointing the green at Krell. "You are very good. Your offensive leaves nearly no room for countering."

Pong laughed deeply. "It isn't good enough. If this were a real fight, my arm would be off."

"Yes, and you still have three arms and both sabers. You can lose an arm and not be hindered."

The Besalisk shrugged, tucking his hit arm behind his back and swinging his blades up. He couldn't argue with that logic. He stalked closer to his much smaller opponent, and Kenobi closed his eyes, breathing deep and feeling the Dark Side rush through him, his mental defenses firmly in place and keeping the other Jedi from feeling anything. His opponent lunged, and their blades clashed again, beginning another furious offense as Obi-Wan deftly blocked, Krell's blades sliding uselessly off to the sides.

The Besalisk did not relent, his energy reserves running deeper than Obi-Wan expected, but he suddenly saw his opening, bringing his backhanded blue blade up to block a downward strike and thrusting his green saber across his body and under his own arm. The awkward angle hid the blade from his much larger opponent, and the lightsaber dug into the space right between Krell's right arms, and the Master hissed loudly, dropping his right-handed saber and swinging wild with the left as he fell.

"Yield, yield..." Pong growled, his uninjured left rubbing at the red spot between his arms. "Force, Kenobi, you are relentless."

"Yes, well..." The Jedi switched the sabers off and dropped them to the ground, clutching his own side. "I dropped my guard when I hit you. Well struck, you killed me."

Krell looked Obi-Wan over, watching carefully as the Jedi pulled his training robe to the side and revealed a long, red welt across his abdomen, and the Master laughed loudly. "Isn't that how you killed your Sith, Kenobi?"

""Much like that, yes." He smiled softly at Luminara when she handed him a cold cloth that he held over the burning mark. "That's three kills on me today, Krell, you're in great form."

"I learned from yesterday," he growled, sitting on the ground and rubbing the arm Kenobi had struck. "You brutalized me like I was a Padawan with an attitude."

"You both are constantly brutalizing each other," Luminara said, rolling her eyes as she sat between the two men. "It's like watching two rancor fight."

"You know, Krell, we ought to charge people to watch us. The Hutts make good money on rancor fights."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, you will do no such thing," Luminara chided, and the Jedi just laughed, hissing and clutching the red burn when pain shot through him.

"This isn't a lesson I'll soon forget. Thank you, Master Krell."

The Besalisk snorted. "Oh please. I've learned a great deal teaching you. I've improved a great deal myself."

"Obi-Wan." The three Jedi looked toward the far end of the sparring ring, standing quickly when Mace Windu walked into the arena.

"Shit," Krell growled deeply, leaning in toward the pale and suspicious Obi-Wan. "Now you're in for it, Kenobi. As good as you are, Mace Windu will destroy you."

"You don't need to tell me that, Krell, I already know it..." He bowed deeply as the Master approached, arms folded in his brown robes and eyes narrowing as he observed the sweaty, battered and disheveled Jedi. "Master Windu..."

Mace removed his cloak, his saber flying to his hand and the purple blade humming to life. Kenobi felt dizzy and ill just looking at the glowing lightsaber in the strong hand of the most talented duelist alive. "I feel like this has been a long time coming, Kenobi," Mace drawled as he adjusted the settings on his weapon, lowering the intensity down to just above the safe levels of the practice sabers. "The Masters have been praising your dedication to your training the past year. Even Master Yoda can't read you anymore. I hear you've become quite talented in lightsaber combat as well. It's time to test it."

"Master Windu, this is no contest for you, I'm not-"

"Are you afraid, Kenobi?"

"No, but-"

"Draw your weapon."

Kenobi looked at Luminara, her eyes sympathetic, and he put her lightsaber back in her hand. He groaned as he rose to his feet, the wound across his torso burning, the pain receding to a dull throb as he strengthened his mental defenses, his resistance to pain growing as he centered in the Force. "I've been training most of the day, Master. Even at my best, I'm no match for you."

"You don't get to decide when you engage a stronger foe, Kenobi."

Obi-Wan sighed, igniting his lightsaber and poising it over his shoulder. Mace didn't wait a second longer, deftly lunging forward and stabbing at the Jedi's chest, but his saber met the blue blade. The purple blade arched up and straight down again, swiftly changing directions on the downstroke to cut across both of Obi-Wan's arms when the knight moved to block a blade that was no longer there.

Kenobi yelped in pain, tightening his grip on his weapon and gritting his teeth as long, red burns seared across his arms. His ice blue eyes narrowed, his rage building as he watched Mace's graceful, predatory stalking.

"You're dead."

"I know."

"Come again."

Kenobi raised his blade again, arm shaking from the sharp pain, and Mace struck again, his purple saber swinging fast, random, impossible to predict, leaving trails of light through the air like ribbons as the lightsaber moved with impossible speed. Kenobi lasted only slightly longer than the first match when the tip of Windu's weapon stabbed deep into Obi-Wan's leg. This time, he fell, his weapon sliding out of his hand and across the floor as the Jedi clutched his leg, jaw clenched tightly. Windu stabbed his lightsaber down into the prone man, blade sliding between his ribs, and the Jedi shuddered in pain, eyes wide and unable to breathe as the energy of the weapon entered his lungs.

"You're dead," Mace snarled, pacing back and forth as Obi-Wan coughed, hand to his chest and shaking, and Luminara jumped to her feet and ran to her friend.

"Master Windu, stop! You've made your point, this is unnecessary."

"It is necessary," Windu growled, his blade twirling effortlessly in the air. "Obi-Wan wants to fight the Sith, and he's going to die. They will be more dangerous than I will be."

Luminara huffed, her eyes drifting to Obi-Wan as he rose, legs shaking and calling his saber back to his hand, the blade igniting. "Then at least lower the setting!"

"A practice saber doesn't hurt enough to teach someone with the ridiculous resistance he has." Kenobi glared at him, watching the Master move, his body strong and dangerous and graceful, but he looked...pleased? The Jedi shook his head, refocusing on his opponent, feeling his pain dull as his defenses rose. "Form Seven draws from the emotions and pain of your opponent. The Sith will use it, and if you give them anything to work with, they will become stronger, and you will die."

"You don't believe me when it comes to the Sith," Kenobi said softly, raising his blade once again.

"You're right. I don't." He lunged at Kenobi again, but the Jedi was ready this time, blocking the quick strikes deftly, just managing to catch when Windu swung the blade randomly and narrowly avoiding the humming, purple blade.. Kenobi fell into a pattern of blocking and countering, striking suddenly when he saw an opening, but Mace was too quick, and the blue blade was knocked harmlessly to the side as the Master drove his lightsaber through Obi-Wan's gut, a swift shudder running through the Jedi before he dropped to the ground.

"Dead."

"I know!"

Kenobi's defenses were up as he rose, the Force rushing cold through him, the pain making him focus. He couldn't beat Windu any more than he could beat the laughing Sith in his nightmare, but he could still have victory. He narrowed his eyes, raising the blue lightsaber once again as pain and rage and darkness pulsed through him, his face blank and expressionless and his strong mental defenses impenetrable. He felt Mace's presence in the Force reaching out to him, gauging his opponent, and Kenobi smirked as the Master frowned; he was getting nothing out of the Jedi.

Windu came at him again, but Kenobi was calm, centered, blocking every strike, every parry, every thrust, the highly aggressive Windu meeting Obi-Wan's impenetrable defense, blades humming and clashing and streaking the air with purple and blue light. However, the Master's ruthless offense eventually wore down the Jedi's defenses, and Obi-Wan saw the blade thrust forward toward his chest, and he managed to twist out of the way, directing the purple blade into his left side. The saber bit through him right under his ribs, and Obi-Wan held his breath as pain raced through him.

Kenobi locked eyes with Mace, his dark brown eyes narrowed and vicious as he pushed the blade into his opponent, and Obi-Wan grabbed the Master's robes, a small, pained smirk on his face as he watched Windu's face change from fury, to shock, and then to pain. Kenobi's blade was thrust to the hilt into the Master's body just under the sternum, the low energy of the saber sending pain searing through Mace's lungs as Obi-Wan fell to the ground, the purple blade sliding from his body. With a groan, Master Windu dropped to his knee, deactivating the saber lodged in his chest, coughing as the pressure released. His dark eyes observed Kenobi, the Jedi laying still on the ground, clutching his side and breath ragged and uneven.

"You're dead, Kenobi."

"...so are you, Windu."

The edge of Master Windu's mouth twitched upwards into the faintest of smiles, and he walked to the fallen Jedi, grabbing Kenobi's hand and hoisting him to his feet. "Well done, Obi-Wan. Did you learn something?"

"I did." He coughed, standing up as tall as his aching body would allow. "If I'm going to die, make sure I take the bastard down with me."

Windu nodded. "You're as ready as you're going to be. We're sending you to Serenno."

Obi-Wan could feel the grin spread across his face as his heart seemed to hum in his chest, all the pain forgotten. "For Dooku."

Windu nodded. "For Dooku. You were right. He did meet with the Viceroy, and the records of this meeting were deleted. We're lucky Chancellor Palpatine is well connected. And," he said in a low growl, as if everything in him was reluctant to say so, "we are fortunate that you had the persistence to investigate."

"This is perfect. Who's going with me? How many! When do we leave?!"

"Easy, Kenobi," Windu drawled, putting his hand up as if he could stop the young Jedi's enthusiasm. "You'll leave tomorrow, and nobody is going with you."

Obi-Wan's face dropped as the weight of what the Master was saying sunk in. "...Master, Dooku is a Sith Lord. You've made it very clear I can't win in a fight against the Sith. You're sending me to my death."

"Dooku isn't a Sith, and he knows you're coming." Kenobi didn't say anything as he sat on the ground, knees pulled to his chest and eyes distant. "When we got the information, we contacted Dooku, and he confirmed that he did see Nute Gunray. He also said he would be happy to discuss it with us."

"Send Master Yoda." Kenobi's voice was flat. He could hear Mace talk, he was listening, but the Jedi wasn't really present. He was in his mind, imagining the nightmares of the Sith Lord, watching his death play out before him over and over again in hundreds of different ways.

Windu shook his head. "Dooku asked for you specifically, and he wants to see you alone."

"Why..."

The Master shrugged. "Perhaps he feels you deserve to know. After all, you saved Qui-Gon, and Dooku dearly loves his student. He may feel a connection with you through Qui-Gon."

"This feels like a trap," Luminara said softly, and Mace looked at the Mirialan. Kenobi didn't move. "If Obi-Wan is right, if Dooku is a Sith Lord, then we are sending him into a fight he cannot win."

"If he is a Sith and something happens to Obi-Wan, then we will know what Dooku is. Master Yoda believes the Sith have learned patience, and if that's true, he won't give himself away. Do not forget that the Sith fear death, and if there's a chance he'll lose, he won't attack."

"Kenobi is the Sithkiller," Krell growled. "Killing him would be a major blow to us. I agree with Luminara. He should have someone with him."

"Then we lose two Jedi instead of one." Mace looked at the two Jedi standing before him, and then back to Kenobi, still huddled and unmoving on the ground. "But none of this is relevant, because if he is Sith, he won't attack because it will reveal his true nature, and if he isn't, then he won't attack."

Luminara and Krell began to object, but Kenobi slowly rose and turned to face the Masters. "You're right. I'll go."

"Obi-Wan," Luminara snapped, "this is madness."

"The reasons are logical. It took weeks for the Council to reach a decision on this, so I assume that this was very carefully discussed." Mace nodded, and Obi-Wan smiled, but the rest of his face was hollow. "See? It will be fine. I'm not worried. We must...trust the wisdom of the Council."

"Will you be ready to leave tomorrow, Obi-Wan?" Mace asked, and the Jedi nodded.

"That won't be a problem."

"Let me walk you to the infirmary," Luminara said softly, but Obi-Wan waived her off.

"I'm fine, don't you worry about me." He smiled softly and bowed to the Jedi. "I'll see you all when I return." He didn't wait for any of them to say anything, he just strode on long legs out of the training room and headed toward his room, listlessly punching in the code and the door slid open, closing behind him as he entered. Kenobi dropped onto the bed. At the very least, this mission would be short. He took a deep breath, feeling the Dark Side swirl within him, felt the familiar surge of power, and his fears slowly began to ease.

Everything depended on Dooku. Mace did make sense. Dooku wouldn't try anything stupid, because a dead Jedi was very incriminating. With any luck, Kenobi would find what he needed to prove that Darth Tyranus was the old Jedi Master. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and he started to relax. He was nervous before, but now Obi-Wan was beginning to get excited. He had heard a great deal about Dooku from Qui-Gon when he was younger, and the more he learned about the Sith, the more Kenobi wanted to pick at Dooku's brain, learn what he knew, find out why he left, why he joined the Jedi's ancient enemy. He could learn so much from Qui-Gon's Master before Obi-Wan killed him.

"Wotok tsawakmidwanottoi, yuntok hyarutmidwanottoi."

One to embody power, the other to crave it.

Dooku had power, and Kenobi badly wanted it. It couldn't be that hard to take it from an old man.