Canderous
I was reeling from the impact of the ceremony, but managed to keep both of us steady as I kissed Jennet for the first time as my wife. For that moment, everything else fell away, and the universe shrank to the two of us. I could have kissed her until the stars burned out.
We came back far too soon, and I heard the cheers of our friends, my people, and the Republic soldiers. Jennet was staring up at me, a little dazed, but her face was glowing as if lit by a hundred candles.
"Now it's official, Jennet Ordo," I said. "Have I told you I love you today?"
"Say that again," she said breathlessly.
"I love you," I said promptly, smiling.
"I love you too," she smiled back. "But I meant my name."
"Jennet Ordo." I said in my deepest rumble.
"I love the sound of my name in your mouth," she said, and yanked me down for another kiss, to the delight of the witnesses.
Eventually, we made it back down the aisle, under swords held aloft by the honor guard. I heard Elder Evana invite the guests to help themselves to food and drink, and that Jennet and I would be available for the reception shortly. I wished devoutly that we didn't have a reception; what I most wanted to do is take Jennet back to our bed. On the other hand, I had a few questions I wanted answered, and I knew that we both were needed out there.
I escorted Jennet to the Phoenix, and stripped off my armor without bothering to go back to the Ebon Hawk. I left it in a pile next to the hatch, and told Kex to put it away in my cabin once the ladies left. I reattached the cape to my shoulders, knowing Jennet would be wearing hers with whatever she was changing into. Then I snagged a chair and sat a ways back from the hatch, waiting for Jennet to emerge. I didn't want to head back alone, and what questions I had she should be hearing the answers to as well.
I still had the Helm tucked under my arm. I studied it as best I could in the darkness, a little wary about what it might do next. The Clans reforming under my name was utterly unexpected. I had thought about doing just that at one point, but discarded the idea once I found some of my kin. They were bitter, many nearly broken, and while they needed leadership, they clung to what they could that was familiar. Battle. Courage. Honor. Clan. To try and make them forget their families and unite under a new Clan would have been too much, I saw. They needed time, and I was willing to give it to them. It seemed that the time had come. I understood what had happened, and even to a large extent why. What I didn't know was how the Elders had known enough to change the ceremony, or why it had happened to me.
Jarxel wandered up while I was pondering, chair in hand. He unfolded it and sat next to me, straddling it backwards.
"Hell of a thing," he said, and I saw that some of the light that had struck all of us was still shining in his eyes. "I always knew you had it in you."
I looked at him a minute, and something clicked. "It was you, wasn't it?"
"What?" he said, looking genuinely puzzled.
"I thought I could reunite the Clans, yes. But you were the only one I told that I considered uniting them as one Clan. Mine. You told the Elders that, didn't you?" I looked at my old friend, not angry, how could I be? I just wanted to know.
"Yeah," he said, not looking at me. "I did. I thought something like this might happen."
"How by Kobald's balls could you ever expect something like that to happen?" I growled. "No one could. It was legend, stories we learned as children. No one ever believed it could happen now."
"I know enough about legend and history to understand that most myths are based on a seed of fact. I also know enough about our prophecies to see that the signs were there for a new Rising. I just told the Elders what I thought, that was all," Jarxel shrugged.
I stared at him for a full minute, and he looked blandly back. "It's more than that," I said slowly. "You knew, somehow, that this would happen. And that could only be if…"
I stopped, and suddenly so many things over the years made sense, things I had put down to soldier's instinct or coincidence. Tiny pieces were fitting themselves together to reveal an entirely different picture than I thought I had been looking at. The fact Jarxel never wanted his own command, was always content to be my XO, even though he had years and experience on me and was a fine leader in his own right. How he would warn me of hunches he had, and get us out of tight spots, anticipating trouble that no one could have foreseen. And how unsurprised he had been when I'd tracked him down, and asked him to join me in the hunt for our kin. As if he'd been waiting for me to do just that.
"You're a Seer," I said, looking him in the eye.
"No," he said calmly. "I'm a warrior. I just get flashes, sometimes. And occasionally very detailed, specific flashes," he smiled wryly.
"Seers are revered," I said. "You would have been an Elder. Why didn't you?"
"Because I am a warrior first," Jarxel said simply. "My mother knew, and helped me hide it. She had a touch of it herself. Not enough to be a true Seer, but sufficient to know that my place wasn't with the Elders. So I trained as any fighter does, and eventually I found where I needed to be. With you."
"My Gods," I said, awed by this admission. "You've been more of a friend than I even knew. You helped me, the entire way."
"Don't give me too much credit," he growled. "You got here yourself. I did little more than keep you from getting too reckless and getting your fool ass killed. I knew you were needed, that's all. I didn't know why, and it didn't matter. You were my friend, and my commander. Eventually, my Mandalore. And now, the head of my Clan, as well. But my friend and brother first, and always."
"If you saw this coming, why did you protest about allying with the Republic, or were so suspicious about Jennet?" I asked curiously.
"You might recall neither of those protests lasted long. I am a Mandalorian, after all, plus the flashes I get usually aren't complete. Both Jennet and your idea about aiding the Republic were completely unexpected. I had a feeling you were going to find your Mate when you left with Ladria. I was a bit thrown when she turned out to be Ondorian. Not to mention Jedi." Jarxel shrugged, giving me a wide grin.
"And Telosian," I reminded him, grinning back.
"Yeah. But I soon saw that Jennet was your Mate, and along with aiding the Republic, the fact the Mate of the Mandalore was Jedi trained, if not sworn, made me realize that the Mandoa were being prepared for a new age." Jarxel spoke softly, looking rather dreamily into the distance. "When she won over the camp so quickly, to my mind, it was confirmed. So I spoke to the Elders, and they studied the prophecies and sacred writings, and felt that I could be right. Changing the wedding ceremony would not have hurt anything if we were wrong; it simply would have united the Clans under Clan Ordo, which needed to be done anyway, and the Elders agreed.
"But," he continued fiercely, "all I did was put some of the pieces together, and give you a hand when you needed it. Neither the Elders nor I made you what you are; you did that all on your own. You rose to General during the wars; one of the youngest to do so in our history. You were in the running for Mandalore even then. You chose to join Revan on her mission, and became a Hero of the Republic, began to seek out the surviving Mandoa, and six months ago joined Ladria. You found Jennet, recognized her as your Mate, and brought her here. And the Helm was given to you. No one else."
"Did you have anything to do with Revan finding the Helm and giving it to me?" I asked, more to eliminate that possibility than anything else. I couldn't see how he could have.
He was silent long enough that I turned to him in surprise. "You didn't, did you?"
"I don't know for sure," he said slowly. "But I did have it on the eve of Malachor V."
"You what?!" I almost fell out of my chair. "How the fuck did that happen? The Mandalore wasn't even on our ship."
"But I was on his, remember? Just for a couple of hours. You sent me over there to report, and I saw him personally. I knew we were going to lose. I don't know what tipped him to me; maybe it was on my face, or just that he was the Mandalore and sensed my unease. But he understood I could See, somehow, and asked, and Gods help me, I told him. It was Karnik Laskar who was Mandalore," he said, his voice far away.
I nodded. "So what did he do?" I prompted.
"He handed me the Helm," Jarxel said simply. "Told me to keep it safe, and not let the Republic use it to break what was left of the Clans when it was all over. I tried to give it back, told him that for the Mandalore to go into battle without it would demoralize the troops; if he did, he might as well surrender now."
I agreed with that, and nodded. "Good advice. What did he say?"
Jarxel looked at me suddenly, his dark eyes fathomless. "He just said 'leave that to me. Now, go, and keep this trust.' They executed him the next morning, on the ruins of Malachor V. I remember we were surprised about that; Jedi didn't usually execute prisoners of war."
"Revan did," I said. "Not often, but she knew that the only way to stop us was to be as ruthless as we were. So she set an example. She ordered our war machines destroyed, our weapons and armor burned and our Mandalore executed before our eyes. Then she left us to find our way back however we could."
"It was fortunate you sent a few scout ships into deep space when you realized it was hopeless," Jarxel commented.
"On your advice," I reminded him. "I was mostly surprised she didn't execute me too as one of the last surviving generals. At the time, I didn't care if she did or not; all I could think about was getting the rest of the men off the graveyard that our home world had become." I paused. "So what did you do with the Helm?"
"During the final assault, just after General Windbreak set off the Shadow Generators, I put it in an escape pod, and sent it to the planet, hoping it would go unnoticed during the chaos." Jarxel said simply.
"You did what?" I asked incredulously.
"Yeah," Jarxel said wryly. "I thought it was crazy too. But it was the only thing I could think of."
"She must have found it," I mused almost under my breath. "Later, after she left us there. And kept it all that time, even when she had gone over to the dark side. I wonder why."
"Maybe," Jarxel shrugged. "Does it matter?"
"No," I said. "Not now."
We were silent a while, and after a time I voiced another point that had been bothering me.
"Why didn't you tell me about being a Seer?" I asked quietly. "I've known you all my life; you know me better than anyone. Next to Jennet, I trust you above all. I thought you trusted me. So why?"
He looked at me a moment. "The first time I saw you, you were five years old. Do you remember?"
"Not really," I said, mystified by this change of subject. "I don't really remember you not being around."
"I served under your father's command with my uncle from the time I was thirteen. Mine was a small Clan, not terribly important, but well respected for turning out excellent warriors. Our families were allies; the Ordo and Tauran clans had been for decades, close to a century. I fought my first real battle at thirteen and got my tattoo, same as you did fifteen years later."
I nodded, seeing in my mind's eye the Tauran clan badge, a powerful wickedly horned bull dragon, head down and charging, snorting fire. I suddenly remembered that as a small child I had thought it much more exciting than my own clan symbol. Of course, I never said so aloud, liking my hide intact rather in the strips of flesh it would have been in if my father ever heard me express that. But Jarxel had known without me telling him that I admired his tattoo greatly, and allowed me to see it whenever I demanded to. By the time I earned my own, I had forgotten my fascination with the bull dragon image and was proud to sport the Ordo phoenix.
"I fought with my uncle and his sons until I came of age," he continued, and I recalled that Jarxel's father had been killed on campaign when he was very young. He and his mother had lived with his father's brother's household, and he had been trained along side his six cousins. "There wasn't much future there for me, so he arranged for me to marry Kara, your mother's cousin, and be taken in to your father's household. Common enough, and I was eager to go. The day I arrived, you were out on the training field, wielding your first sword, and doing a right fine job of it for being so young. I stopped to watch, and when the lesson was over, you demanded to know who I was. Less than half my height and a quarter my mass, and you still managed to look like you were in charge. Arrogant beyond belief, and you were pissed as hell when I laughed about it; thought I was mocking you. You charged me, and I knocked you flat and held my boot on your chest until you cooled off. Impressed the hell out of your father that I didn't hesitate to take the heir to the house of Ordo down a peg."
"I remember that day now," I laughed. "It's a wonder I lived to see six; Father and I were always knocking heads."
"Yeah," Jarxel said comfortably. "He was proud of you for it, though. So here I was, brand new man at arms in Clan Ordo, holding down a bellowing five year old, and your father sees the situation and starts laughing so hard I though he was going to burst a blood vessel. 'Kid,' he says, 'anyone that can knock some sense into my son is welcome. Look after him, and you'll always have a place here.'" He mimicked my father's voice and manner so well I laughed harder.
"I watched your back from then on," he continued, chuckling. "Took over your training when we weren't on campaign. Whenever we were home, I was your watchdog, and by the time you were old enough to fight, your father had raised me in rank to third in command. When he gave you your own command, I went with you, and I've been your second ever since."
"Except the ten years after the war," I said, a touch bitterly. "I shouldn't have let you go then."
"You needed to," he shrugged fatalistically. "There were things you were meant to do without me. I knew you'd be back."
"None of this explains why you never told me," I pointed out.
"You were smart as hell, and I was always wondering when you'd figure it out. I was pretty certain if you did, I'd be forced into the Elders, and separated from you. I'd known that day I held you down that I'd found where I needed to be. I wasn't going to risk it. And later, I really did think about telling you. Kara knew, and urged me to speak up. But you were still so young, and soon I had sons of my own; there never seemed a good time to tell you. And then the war started. I couldn't say anything then, because I knew from the start we'd lose. I wasn't there for the same reasons you were," he said gruffly. "You were there seeking victory, as you needed to be. I was there for damage control. If I'd told you then, you would have asked what I saw, and I couldn't lie to you."
"I could say you lied by omission," I said with a touch of a growl.
"You could," he agreed. "And you'd be right. We wouldn't have won, even if I had told you. I'd dealt with the Sight on and off for forty years when we started that campaign, and if I'd learned anything, it was that those without it rarely benefit from being told directly what their destinies are. It would destroy everything if you knew. So I kept my mouth shut."
We sat there in the dark, together as we had been most of our lives, brothers and companions, and I realized he was right. Knowing changes things. Would I have married Gerda, knowing that I'd meet Jennet one day? Would I have done things differently during the war, certain we were going to lose? How much would be different if I had known Jarxel had the Sight? I would have believed him, but would anyone else have listened? Probably not, I admitted. And in supporting him, I likely would have been stripped of command, and not have been in a position of authority when the war ended, which held weight with many of the survivors when I took the Helm.
"Destiny is a damned tricky thing," I said finally. "You were right not to tell me. And I did what I had to."
"Aye, destiny is tricky," Jarxel agreed. "But it has its moments." He nudged me and I looked up.
Jennet was coming out of the Phoenix, and I stood to wait for her, as did Jarxel. She looked breathtaking in a blue dress that flowed over her body like water made into silk. The silver of the cape she wore caught the light behind her. I smiled at that glimpse of my wife, unaware of me watching for the moment. Then she turned to me and her face lit like a candle, the light from the interior of the ship outlining her small form like a halo. It reminded me of the Helm, glowing with an unearthly radiance.
"Jarxel," I said suddenly, "what exactly is the Helm, do you know?"
He looked at me through the dark, his face mostly in shadow, the torches from the party giving just enough illumination to make out his features.
"It's protection," he said, smiling. "Keeps your head from getting smashed in. Mind you use it, now."
He clapped me on the arm, and strode off to the party.