AN: Here we are friends. I have to say, the recent embrace by the community is heartening indeed. Gotta extend a big welcome to SomeTrandoshanWithASlugthrower and Bob Story Builder to our favorites users. Hope you're enjoying the ride. Cheers y'all!
Chapter 7: Wren Eschlan, Of Byss
"Wake up Wren." The curtains crawled open, casting rays of blue and green through the window. The lump in the bed shifted, turning away from the glow of the sun. Grasping hands seized his blanket, depriving Wren of warmth until a heavier source of heat climbed up on top of him. "Up, sleepy head! You've got people to see today, you can't let the day fly by."
Wren stirred in confusion, something like tihaar and shig filling his nose as he mumbled haltingly; "Sh-Shana?" He turned over from his belly, and the weight slid off him, regarding him with an entrancing gold-hazel stare framed by soft rusty red curls. She snorted, before crawling hand and foot back up against him, till the tips of their noses touched.
"Who's that?" She asked with an easy smirk. "Haven't even left home and you've already got a new squeeze? No, I'm Eri. Remember? Shana will have to wait till tomorrow, Mr. Stormtrooper."
Wren remembered, and then the dream had him. It was Eri. It was his bedroom, in his mother's appartment on Byss. It was 10 ABY. Wren was 16 again, and he kissed her like it. "It's nobody," he insisted after they parted. "Bad joke." Wren pulled her close, but she protested when she had the breath.
"Mmm. Move it," she said, pushing him down to the pillow before rolling off him. "Fresher. It's already 9:22, and you gotta meet Master Hurgin before he gets tired." Eri shoved Wren out of the bed, lounging in the covers and absorbing Wren's leftover body heat as she watched and chewed her lip while he rummaged about for clean clothes. He left the refresher and dressed, and the two youths left the bedroom.
"G'morning kiddo." Wren saw her, and for just a moment perceived the dream for what it was; this was how she always appeared, in her chair at the kitchen table, listening to the morning broadcast, sipping her caf. Wren couldn't help but smile. He didn't care that it was a dream, and in not caring lost the awareness of it.
"Hey mom," he said, crossing the room to hug his mother tight.
"Hope you don't mind I let Eri in," She responded. She flashed a grin to Wren's copper haired sweetheart that reeked of conspiracy. "She was always a better motivator than I was, so it just seemed like the natural move."
Any other day, Wren would've been mortified by a secret conference between mother and girlfriend, but seeing that he'd be half way across the galaxy in a mere 24 hours, Wren could only view it as inevitable. He wasn't gonna be around to keep the two halfs of his world from colliding anymore. "Glad to see you two are getting along," he said, smiling over mom's shoulder at Eri.
"And why wouldn't we?" Eri asked. "Delia is a class act."
"You've got a real nice girl here at home," Delia said. "Don't go doing anything while you're away that'll ruin that, right?" While Eri beamed, Wren accepted another hug and a kiss on the forehead. "You'd best get going, Wren. But don't forget, dinner at Merka's Chopping Block; your friends, your father, and half the building is going to be there."
They exchanged one more round of goodmornings and goodbyes, before the two young Byssians stepped out into the midday sun. Eri sighed, running a hand through her copper tresses. "Emperor, aren't you going to miss this? Turning your face into that sun? You know, I can feel in my heart that I don't come from a place that looks like this, but I don't love it any less."
"You always did," Wren said. They stepped out into the bustle, cutting through the crowds to a repulsortram. "I could never really escape that feeling. And always felt the need to."
This was Byss. It could've been the mottled blue-green sun, or the days 25% longer than the Human circadian rhythm, or the added ambient radiation from the insane stellar density of the Deep Core. But the strangeness of the planet was inescapable, permeating everything touched by the ghostly shine. Looking out the window was staring into a dream for Wren. Gazing at the open sky was one of the most disorienting things Wren knew.
The tram came to their stop; the kids hopped off, taking the stairs down to street level and walking a few blocks before ducking into a building marked 'Hurgin Self Defense Academy'. As Eri posted up on the low fence separating the entrance area and office from the training area, Wren kicked off his shoes and stepped out onto the mat. He took in the gym for what would be the last time; an open area covered in grappling mats dominated the right side of the gym. To the left were rows of striking bags, and a ring and cage sitting next to each other beyond that, up against the far left wall. In the middle of the mat stood seven Humans, four males and three females. Six young, one one old. Eri felt her heart jump up a touch faster as Wren made his way into the cup of the semi-circle.
"Master Hurgin," Wren said respectfully. The wizened, grizzled old man at the center of the half-circle smiled in a way that oozed exhaustion. From his face he seemed venerable, but past his training shorts and tight compression shirt, his body was hardened, gnarled and fit from decades of diligent, daily training.
"Wren, my boy." Master Hurgin clapped a hand to Wren's shoulder, messing up his hair and hugging him tight. "So glad you could make it." Wren opened his mouth to speak, but Hurgin turned away and began adressing his compatriots. "My honored peers," he said, in a very different voice. "We stand to fulfill the highest duty of fighting masters, as our disciple leaves for war. Who shall shed his blood here, that none shall spill from our disciple upon the field of battle?"
All six of his peers shouted in unison; "I!"
"Wren Eschlan, of Byss," the master continued. "I, Atmos Hurgin, of Anaxes, offer you challenge. Enter this crucible as a student, and leave it as a warrior in our eyes, that the grace of our masters shall follow you and your comrades."
One man stepped forward, the others retreating to the sides of the room. He was just a few inches taller than Wren, of tan skin with brown hair shaved close to the sides of his head, the front, top, and back being worn in a bun. He held out his wrapped hands, uttering; "Huja Texual, of Haruun Kal. Only arm strikes." He dropped into a fighting stance, hands tight on the chin, elbows in. Eri was at Wren's side then, pressing a pair of wraps into his hands.
"To first fall!" Master Hurgin shouted, as Wren tied the binds tight and true, so that they'd help hold the bones of his fists in place.
The two circled each other, stalking left and right. Wren fired a probing jab, testing the waters, but Huja parried it aside and immediately blitzed hard, forcing Wren back with a flurry of fast, powerful straight and hooking punches. Wren defended well, first with head movement and static blocks. Eventually the younger fighter found his rhythm and began attacking the weapons, using the hard bones of his forearms to intercept punches and wear out Huja's muscles with repeated impacts.
Seeing that an easy win wasn't for the taking, Huja changed tempo. Seeing an opportunity to take the offensive, Wren surged forward, firing a jab and cross high as he stepped out and angled a hook in towards Huja's body. The punch landed harmless, however, as Huja twisted to catch it on his curled arm, firing an uppercut with the same hand that caught Wren right under the chin.
The departing cadet staggered back, struggling to keep his feet, and Huja maintained pressure. Wren barely leaned out of the way of a thunderous hook primed to take his head off, covering up to guard a flurry of blows. Eri winced as Huja laid on the pain and Wren did his best to survive.
Wren could feel Huja's fists falls on his arms. That was the key to escaping the turtled up passive guard with effective offense. You couldn't see enough to put together a counterattack; Wren found his moment by telling the punch based on how it hit his guard. Timing with a hook, Wren lashed out, catching the punch on one arm and inserting the other to strike Huja's jaw with a backhand. And here was what justified Hurgin's brutal test; moments of pure mastery, Wren's inexplicable nack, glimpses of a fighting savant.
Wren snapped his arm back, passing Huja's captured arm over his head to the other side to bury a hook into Huja's ribs. That one hurt, and Huja couldn't resist the strength-sapping, breath stealing power of a direct hit to the liver. Wren slotted the uppercut between Huja's guard, knocking his head into place so Wren could spin, smashing Huja behind the ear with all the weight of his body.
As one body fell, the next stepped forward, while the others dragged the unconscious Huja to the side. "Asiya Hemari, of Loronar," the fair skinned, dark haired woman said. She settled into a spread guard, rear hand high by the jaw, front hand low and a little long. "All strikes."
"To first fall!" Master Hurgin called again, and like Huja, Asiya came in looking for a kill shot.
Wren shot his hand low to parry as Asiya launched a side kick at his belly. He found himself behind Asiya, but had no chance to capitalize as she fired her spinning back kick, this time high for his jaw. Wren bent desperately to avoid it, planting his hand as he leaned all the way back. Asiya had no issues capitalizing, leaping up and throwing an axe kick that absolutely would have dropped Wren to the ground, had he not desperately rolled hand by hand to the side, before flexing backwards and cartwheeling away from Asiya's low spinning sweep. The striking master stiffled a growl; this was what it was to fight Wren, a never ending frustration. Even as a novice, he had stunned with ingenious, near-miraculous escapes.
They stalked, probed, stalked, probed again, and finally traded; Asiya fired three alternating straight punches, before launching a straight kick for Wren's groin. The cadet parried, kicking Asiya's leg aside before it could strike his genitals and lashing out sideways. It staggered Asiya at her belly, but not enough to keep her from slipping low and to the side when Wren pressed in with a leaping punch. As Wren landed, Asiya thumped his ribs once with one folded elbow, and his kidney with the other. Wren spun with the backhand, Asiya ducking it, and then they were back to squared at close range.
Asiya kicked low at Wren's knee, but he shifted his stance to protect his joint, and their forearms clashed together as both tried to smash the other at point blank. Asiya threw a knee, but Wren slammed it away from his gut with the point of his elbow, and drove both his fists into her, striking her bladder and solar plexus. She staggered again, breathless and unable to defend as Wren ran her down. He lunged, jabbing high till she took the bait, allowing a 2-1 to land on her belly and ribs. Riding and adding to his forward momentum, Wren drove a leaping knee into Asiya's chin. Wren landed, faked a mid-height side kick to draw the stunned woman's hands low, and then threw a spinning hook kick that landed ball of the heel straight to the temple, spinning Asiya to the ground.
Eri watched, and Wren panted lightly. He knew what this was coming in. Eri had told him what was happening. They were here to provide the closest safe equivalent to war possible. His training would be easier for having already driven himself to his limit and beyond, as they'd done for so many who'd left Byss to serve the Emperor reborn. Master Hurgin watched, his face inscrutable, as another of the males stepped forward. He was Wren's height, but much heavier set, with skin an earthen brown and his hair shaved off outright. "Fang Yithitis, of Tatooine," he intoned. "Grappling only."
Wren grimaced; of all the instructors, Fang was the worst matchup, being much heavier than Wren, but no taller than him, and thus no easier to attack at the legs. But Master Hurgin shouted; "To first submission," and like that Fang was on him, rushing in to wrap with Wren.
The young Byssian backpedaled furiously, before ducking under Fang's arm. He pivoted around his larger foe, scooping up Fang's leg and driving into him from the blindside. Yet before he could block the remaining leg or try to lift, Fang turned to face forward and hooked his arms under Wren's, prying the smaller man off the leg before making his own low shot.
Wren sprawled back, but Fang changed the angle, blocking Wren's knee from escaping and bearing him down to the matt. From the corner of his eye, Wren could see Eri's face contort before Fang settled in and the ground fight began.
Fang scrambled down on top of Wren, staying close in a scarf hold and focusing his weight into the smaller man's chest. They fought hands then, as Fang began attempting to isolate and immobilize one of Wren's limbs. With his arms occupied in defending themselves, Wren used his legs, crunching himself together to hook the pit of his knee over Fang's face. Clamping down on Fang's arm, Wren used his whole body to pry the larger man away, at the same time threatening the trapped limb. Fang quickly set his feet under him, and easily lifted Wren. The smaller man released his hold at the last minute, tumbling away before Fang could slam his head into the ground.
Fang leapt onto Wren, stuffing his head down before the Byss native could fully recover. Wren struggled desperately under his more powerful opponent. Several times Wren avoided Fangs attempts to either circle an arm around his throat to choke it, or to circle around to Wren's back and slam him down, before finally breaking Fang's grip by sitting out from under him. Wren spun further, himself seizing the belly to back posture that Fang had desired. And like that, Wren finagled his way into another upstart victory. He hooked his right arm under Fang's, and then wound it high to grip the back of Fang's head. Grasping the larger man by the waist with his legs, Wren grasped the collar of Fang's shirt with his free hand and strangled Fang with it until he slapped his hand on the matt.
Wren's chest heaved as Fang picked himself up and moved to stand with the rest of the Hurgin academy instructors who'd been bested. He stayed down on his knees as the last male stepped forward and announced himself. "Hurrace Tar-solo, of Corellia. All striking and grappling."
Wren picked himself up in anticipation of Master Hurgin's proclamation. "To submission or incapacitation!" He shouted. Wren's adrenaline edged just a touch higher. Eri bit her lip to save her tongue from speaking. That was new. It wasn't how the gauntlet had gone for all the other students who'd left in Emperor Palpatine's service. They'd gotten a fight to submission, first fall to stand up striking, or three seconds of unanswered strikes at any time. It was a reflection of what Atmos had been telling her all this time. That this one was different.
Hurrace came on, pressing the exhausted cadet as hard as the others had, immediately striking with a leaping knee that brought him into range. It didn't get past Wren's doubled low guard, but the followup elbow did, cracking across Wren's jaw. Hurrace pulled Wren into his grasp, firing successive knees into Wren's gut. One landed flush, and Wren gasped for air as he blocked the rest on his two forearms. The Corellian snapped Wren down to his hands and knees by tugging hard on the back of his head, and continued to strike with his knees, hammering the top of Wren's head till blood began to run from his scalp. But Wren felt an opportunity, timed it and executed. He sat out hard, like he did against Fang, but with one slight alteration.
He took Hurrace's arm with him; one moment he was eating knees, helpless. The next, he was sitting out, with all his weight pressing Hurrace face down into the floor with the other fighter's arm seized in Wren's lap. Wren twisted hard, and with a cry of pain and frustration, Tar-solo tapped early. Wren pivoted to loosen the hold, falling to the floor gasping for breath while Hurrace carried himself off. Eri came up beside him then, helping him to seated. Once she got him standing, she helped undo his bloodsoaked wraps, before pressing a dagger into his hand. There were no words shared between them, only a look that drilled into Wren's heart how much this hurt her to watch. She'd demanded that nobody else could second him in this, but Wren wondered if it would've hurt her less to just come see him when it was done.
One of the two remaining instructors stepped forward. She looked much like Huja, with light brown skin and dark hair bobbed short. She too bore a dagger, identical to Wren's; six inches of blade, five inches of hilt, two symmetrical edges, and an upturned guard. "Amia Texual, of Haruun Kal. Knife fighting." Amia stood square, arms at her sides. All other eyes fell on the master.
"To third blood!"
"What?!" Eri nearly leapt over the fence and out into the training area. "That's insane, are you out of your...-"
"Silence!" Master Hurgin roared. "To third blood!"
Amia rushed forward; she wielded her weapon deceptively, always moving about, flowing through movement to disguise her intentions, until she came to range and thrusted low. Wren blocked, once and twice, but the third low stab was feinted, becoming an eye-height cut that Wren barely parried, and Amia angled away, slicing his wrist and up the palm of his off hand. Pain flared and blood began flowing, but Wren couldn't lick his wound in any way, as Amia stayed on him. They clashed, hands and blades fluttering left and right, every contact and movement a dangerous chess move made at lightning speed. But then Amia played another feint, and faked Wren's guard too high as she plunged the point of her knife into Wren's thigh. He cried out in pain, and Eri nearly did the same. But he struggled on, wrapping Amia's wrist in his bleeding hand, preventing her from tearing open his thigh completely.
Then Wren returned the favor; as Amia shot her hand to peel away Wren's grip, Wren intercepted it's course, flipping his blade to point down and skewering Amia through her reaching palm. Using the entry as a point of control, Wren forced Amia's arms together, sticking hand to forearm and pulling both away from the knife still embedded in his thigh. Wren butted with his head then, before wrenching his knife with one hand and sweeping Amia's arms with the other. As she passed him, Wren pivoted around, burying the knife once more, this time in her side to finish the fight.
Wren staggered. Eri rushed in to catch him, while Huja and Asiya did the same for Amia. Eri looked at Atmos with tearful eyes. "Stop this," she begged. "Father, please."
Wren could see Hurgin's resolve falter, if for just a moment. But then he shook his head. "Do your duty as his second," he ordered. "And soon it will be done."
Eri scowled, but obeyed. She pressed into Wren's hands a two-handed sword of medium length. "I'm sorry," she whispered, as the last instructor stepped forward.
"Jerata Texual, of Haruun Kal. Swordsmanship," she said, a mirror image of her sister. Then the others faded to the sides of the room.
"To third blood!" Master Hurgin called, and Jerata rushed in.
Wren fought like he was dying, and who knew, maybe he was. That meant fighting smart, because every move he made burned oxygen out of his falling blood supply. Jerata thrusted low, and Wren smacked it aside. She stabbed high, and he parried again, but not fast enough as Jerata's sword sliced his cheek. Wren moved closer, laying his blade on Jerata's arm; as she withdrew her scoring thrust, he scored a shallow cut of his own. Then they clashed again, cutting, partying, riposte finding no purchase. Jerata countered, and Wren's failed maneuver cost him a scraping cut in his bicep that Jerata tore with the tip of her blade. Yet as the sword fell from Wren's disabled arm, he caught it in his bleeding hand, swiping low and catching the inside of Jerata's knee. She dropped down, and at once they both lunged, running each other through in a draw.
The rest of the day was a blur, and the only memories Wren retained were two; Eri's face, worriedsick, comforting him as he was lifted bodily. The other was floating in blue, passing in and out of consciousness.
When Wren awoke, he was still surrounded in the blue, but now he was more lucid, and understood it for what it was. He could feel the thick bacta flowing into his wounds, binding with his tissues as they formed, accelerating every phase of the process. He could feel himself knitting together. Eventually that strange feeling ceased, and the fluid was drained from the tube, leaving him sitting upon the floor of the capsule. He now recognized one of the academy's back rooms, with a flustered but relieved Eri standing next to Master Hurgin, who looked very pleased.
"When I took this challenge from my master, before the Clone Wars, I hardly made it to the free fighting phase. My knife instructor cut me to ribbons. But to make it all the way to the sword duel, and draw? Unheard of. Simply unheard of." Wren could only beam as he dried and dressed himself, marveling at mortal wounds inflicted by mid morning and healed before midnight. "I wish you well, Wren. And I dearly hope I will see you again."
Wren and Eri left the academy, stepping out into Byss' long twilight hours, where the eerie blue-green sunlight mixed with the crowded, star-strewn skies. They traveled up three levels, before hoping a tram. As they flew across the city, Wren was finally able to look skyward, and sighted the Emperor's Palace. That bulbous form of crimson metal atop a narrow spire seemed more intimidating now than it ever had before. Something about it seemed to focus the strangeness of the place. Only with the sun hanging low did Wren dare to gaze at it; doing so with that alien sun up high was a highly effective regurgitant measure.
The teens hopped off the tram, ducking into a dimly lit resturaunt that immediately roared with activity. Wren was sat at the head of a long table, with Eri to his left and someone he was truly thrilled to see on his right. "Ahhhhh, Wren, my boy, my little soldier!" Berm Eschlan looked very much like his son; a bit taller, a little plumper, and much older in the lines of his face, but the steely eyes, the messy brown hair, and the boyish features were all there. "Waitress! A beer and a whiskey for my boy, before he goes off to fight for us!" Wren sighted his mother, near by, rolling her eyes but saying nothing. Menus were brought out and passed down a table seated with practically all of Wren's friend and family. Even his instructors from the Hurgin Academy were there, save Master Hurgin himself, as he rarely had enough energy to stay awake this late, let alone party onwards. Berm urged his son to purchase the biggest, choicest cut of meat printed on the booklet of flimsy.
The party raged until Wren could stay out no longer; tomorrow, he would board a Sentinel-class landing craft, bright, early, and bound for the Stormtrooper Academy of Carida. But tonight, the four stumbled into Delia's flat; as Berm and Delia convened on the couch with wine, Wren said goodnight before Eri shoved him down the hall and into his bedroom. They stripped down, tucked in, and spent at least 12 of the 18 hours left till Wren's departure in close, tender silence.
Wren woke, and he was warmer than he should have been not ten meters from the cold grip of space. He recognized the body wrapped in his hands, but was also disturbed by it. Close, but not nearly close enough. This woman was a touch shorter, a touch wider at the hips, a bit fuller at the chest, harder and more muscular than the girl he bedded with.
"...Eri?" he questioned, opening his eyes to a scalp full of red hair, brighter than he remembered. She was not awake to respond, but stirred, settling into his arms, pressing languidly back against him. Then the woman realized where she was, starting up and turning to face Wren with green eyes rather than hazel.
"You alright?" She questioned sleepily. "You dreamed of Velabri again, didn't you?" Her forested gaze studied him intently, cheeks flushed, but if they hadn't been holding each other, Wren would be thought it were any other conversatiom, such was her expression. No sign in any direction whether she had been offended by Wren's unwitting advances, whether she enjoyed them, or if she even cared at all. All Wren knew was that she hadn't hit him for it, at least not yet.
Wren shook his head. "Byss," he said quietly, and Shana nodded once, turning back over. Wren didn't know how to touch her, not remembering turning to grasp her in the night. But she settled back against him, and he laid his arm on the curve of her waist. Shana accepted this without a sound, catching his hand and entwining their fingers.
They lay until a familiar voice called from the wall. "Rise and shine, kids," SENA said. "We're just about there."