Chapter 38. When Darkness Fell
"Now remember, size matters not." With a squeeze of a small shoulder and a conspiratorial wink, Obi-Wan sent the small initiate into his practice bout. D'arian Delgada shuffled forward a step and stopped, bright brown eyes turning back to gaze uncertainly at the young Jedi kneeling at the edge of the mat.
"Go on, now, show them what you've learned," Obi-Wan whispered into his ear, both hands gripping the small shoulders in reassurance. Turning the youth around, he gave him a small push, then got to his feet and moved to a front row seat as the two youngsters bowed in the customary opening of a bout. A small grin crossed his face as D'arian bounced on his feet where once he had hung back, awaiting the signal to begin.
When it came, his opponent, Geseth Gopang, charged forward with a swing of the padded stick. D'arian stepped forward where once he had held back and agilely twisted under the stick and danced away with a quick glance at Obi-Wan, who both nodded in approval and at the same time gave a signal to pay attention just before his opponent took advantage of the distraction. The young initiate barely avoided the blow with a spring, pivot and twist and a look of shocked pleasure that was echoed on Obi-Wan's own face.
A forward somersault and twist landed him behind the larger boy where his own stick came around and struck his opponent in the seat of his pants. Geseth stayed focused dispute the stifled snickers from the audience, pivoted and raised his stick to block another blow but D'arian was no longer there. His stick tapped Geseth on the neck from behind.
"Match," the instructor called out. D'arien stared disbelievingly at the master, gulped and turned to Geseth who was almost as astonished as D'arien at the outcome.
The two younglings bowed and were then supposed to move to the side of the room to await their next pairing, only D'arian ran over to Obi-Wan with a shout of glee. The young man put a finger over his mouth in warning not to be too loud about it as he dropped to one knee, and D'arian loudly whispered, "It worked, it worked, it worked. I beat someone!" He flung his arms around the older Jedi's neck.
"You bested someone in a match," Obi-Wan corrected, mindful that the class goals were more sweeping than the teaching of mere skills. "Next time Geseth may best you; there is honor in the match regardless of outcome as long as you both fought your best." He tilted the young face up to his. "But I am well pleased with you, little young. You have done very well."
"Are you going to help me get even better?"
"Of course." He tousled the brown locks. "That is what I am here for - to encourage each of you in turn to find your own strengths and minimize your weaknesses."
D'arien's face fell. "I had hoped you would help teach me enough to win," he hastily corrected himself, "best my opponents – at least a few more times."
Obi-Wan smiled reassuringly. "Oh, you will, if you continue to practice what I've taught you. After all I learned to best a few of my larger age mates and more than once. I was about Master Yoda's size and my age mates were Master Rancisis's." D'arien giggled, as intended. "One in particular called me the 'runt of the litter,' one of many nicknames I despised. Master Yoda gave me a few tips to even things up and now I am passing them on to you just as I'll be passing on a few tips to the others, to be fair to everyone."
D'arien swallowed his disappointment and pleaded, "Just not right away, please?"
He couldn't say no to that face. "Well, not right away, perhaps," he mouthed with a hint of a smile playing around his lips. He beckoned to Geseth Gopang, who came obediently to his other side. He laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You did well, too, young Geseth."
"But I lost," the boy mumbled, looking astonished to be praised.
"You were bested but you did not lose. You are one of the most skilled in this class according to your instructor and are used to being the victor. But you handled that match with the maturity and good grace of a true Jedi and that is why you did not 'lose' as you seem to think. I see the makings of a fine Jedi knight in you – in a few years or more." He winked as Geseth ducked his head shyly.
"When you are bested more often than you best others, should such an improbability happen," he grinned at the wide-eyed look that greeted that comment, "it'll be your turn, I promise – but right now, you do not need the additional instruction that some others do. Have I your permission to concentrate on the others for a while? I just want your promise that you'll tell me if I forget to give you at least some attention."
The blond head nodded.
"Good." He offered each a quick hug and then stood, raising his voice a bit to gain the attention of the all the initiates. "I will be helping everyone but if your age mates don't object to my giving a few of you a bit of extra attention until you all are on the same relative footing – will that be all right with everyone in the class?" He looked around, eyebrow cocked questioningly.
Like the little Jedi in training they were, even at that tender age, they all enthusiastically agreed. They genuinely wanted D'arien to compete at the same level that they had already attained. Even Geseth, the most skilled and thus the most likely to object in the group, nodded with the rest.
How unlike his own younger years, he the D'arien in his group and Bruck Chun the Geseth, for Bruck had begrudged the slightest training that might possibly allow "the runt" to compete on an equal footing.
He moved back to his seat at the side as the next pair of youngsters assumed the ready position. These two were more evenly matched in style as well as body size and composition. Obi-Wan offered encouragement and tips to one and the instructor to the other; then they switched initiates.
They repeated this with several more pairings until the class ended and the initiates filed out for their next classes, all chattering away in high spirits.
Kieran Donato, another initiate, stopped and tugged on Obi-Wan's sleeve. "You are coming back tomorrow, Obi-Wan, aren't you?" he asked with a hopeful face.
"There's few others places I'd rather be, so yes, I'll be here every day, for a while at least." Several cheered. He clutched his heart and dramatically pronounced, "I'm so touched," as they giggled and filed past.
The two adults gathered the padded sticks and checked each to be sure that the padding was firmly in place and safe for younglings who were not always adept at managing either their blows or emotions. An adult Jedi could compensate and pull or abort a strike with loose padding or cracks but a child could not and all the instructors were mindful to keep the equipment in the absolute best and safe condition possible.
"Nicely done, Obi-Wan." The instructor broke the silence as they placed the sticks in the racks. "I see improvement already in those you have helped over these last few days. Have I your permission to submit your name for approval as an instructor for these classes?"
Obi-Wan looked up, surprised and pleased. "I would be honored, Master."
"It is my pleasure. You have a rapport with the younglings as well as their respect – and mine." The instructor put the last stick away and the two Jedi left the room together before parting.
If this were his future in the Order, Obi-Wan decided, it was a future that would hold satisfaction and even joy even if some part of him yearned for that which he had been trained – field agent, diplomat and knight.
He could still have a hand in raising the next generation of Jedi.
"Good match, Ni'sha – your lightsaber skills nearly rival mine." Qui-Gon winked at his friend as their impromptu spar ended. He held up his hands in mock-surrender as she pretended to swing her lightsaber hilt into his ribs, but rather than heading to the showers, they both lingered in the sallé.
"You have not spoken of Obi-Wan once, Qui-Gon," Lilebeth de Nichoise observed as she reached for a towel to blot her face. She slapped Qui-Gon on the back as she straightened up, her voice jovial. "Has your pride and joy been sent on yet another solitary mission or has he perchance taken his trials in my absence?"
"Actually, no. I released him as my padawan." His voice was deliberately flat.
Ni'sha's eyes widened and she coughed to cover her surprise. "Why ever would you do that – what did that boy do this time? Find another 'worthy cause' outside the Order?"
Melida/Daan. The reminder hit Qui-Gon like a punch in the stomach; he hadn't thought about that in some time. Ni'sha had never thought Obi-Wan had made appropriate amends for that debacle. She had thought Obi-Wan had made an unforgiveable mistake and Qui-Gon one in taking the boy back. Her tone had been coldly formal and impersonal whenever she had spoken with the apprentice, quite a contrast to the light and warm tone she took with the master. Long after most of the Temple had let Melida/Daan fade into history, Ni'sha had not, seeming to insist that his padawan continue to pay this "debt of penance" until she deemed it satisfied.
Obi-Wan had born her cool disdain stoically and without complaint, but Qui-Gon had known the boy was hurt and resigned to the fact that nothing he could do would ever absolve him in her eyes. The situation became untenable and Qui-Gon had to finally tell Ni'sha she needed to honor his forgiveness and treat Obi-Wan as he demanded his padawan be treated– or set their friendship on the sidelines until his padawan's knighting. His focus by choice and by necessity had been the boy he had taken back.
And he had not had cause to regret any of it – until recently.
Trying to control his hurt and betrayal, he merely remarked, "I found the worthy cause this time and fought to bring him to the Temple; Obi-Wan opposed it."
A perfectly shaped eyebrow rose in query. "Him?"
"A boy whom I know to be the Chosen One of prophecy, sent to lead us out of darkness and bring balance to the Force. My new padawan. Anakin Skywalker."
A finger tapped against Ni'sha's full lips as she contemplated his words. "You base this on…?"
"His midi count exceeds Yoda's; he took out the droid control ship above Naboo allowing the Gungan army to succeed against the Trade Federation's droid army – need I go on?"
"That's still a wild conjecture that this – how old is this boy, anyway? – is the Chosen One – you've been on a wild Chosen One chase for how many years now?" Qui winced; trust Ni'sha to get to what she probably considered the heart of the matter, his decades long pursuit of prophecy. It dated back to his time as master to Xanatos – the boy had even done research on the prophecy on his behalf. "For gods sake, Qui, why didn't you wait for Obi-Wan's knighting before taking on a new padawan – he's probably far too young to apprentice anyway."
"He's nine."
"Nine? And the Council didn't bat an eye?" She laughed at her own joke. "How many bruises did you inflict and what hold do you have over them to get them to accept this boy?"
"The truth."
"Force, Qui, since when does your truth win these kinds of battles? You always claim the Force is directing your actions and the Council claims it's your stubborn willfulness seeking validation of some desire of yours carefully cloaked in a claim of 'the Force wills it.' Sometimes I think you truly believe the Force speaks only to you."
"Speaks no," Qui-Gon brushed that comment off, hiding his hurt that she would say that of him. "But few truly listen and even fewer are willing to follow its will regardless of what it asks."
Ni'sha only shook her head; something it seemed everyone did when Qui-Gon spoke of no sacrifice too great for the Force, sending the loose ringlets that framed her face hair flying. She ran a hand through the golden brown locks, nearly pulling the cascade out of its clip at the back of her neck. "So then you gave up Obi-Wan for this new boy?"
"For the Chosen One, yes," Qui-Gon agreed. "Anakin Skywalker."
"I don't believe it." That flat pronouncement was a bit of a shock. "This Anakin is nine and new to the Order. Obi-Wan is or should be nearing his trials, yet you let him go rather than waiting a few months to as long as a year while 'Anakin' gets adjusted to life in the Temple. Qui-Gon, just what were you thinking!"
By now her eyes were flashing and her hands planted on her hips.
"I hardly expected to find you standing up for my former padawan before hearing my reasons," he growled.
"Don't get snippy with me, Qui-Gon," she warned. "I'm not nearly as fond of that boy as you are, but you've yet to give me a reason you cut him loose at this time - nor have you given the slightest indication that you care one whit about what will become of him – a cast-off padawan not yet ready for his trials. And don't," she poked a finger in Qui-Gon's chest, "give me this the Force asked it of me crap, either, not by itself. I don't buy it and I bet the Council didn't buy it; so what is your real excuse?"
Barely registering that other Jedi were drifting in and out of the sallé as his voice grew a bit heated, Qui-Gon snapped, "You haven't heard the half of it, Ni'sha; he was defiant and disobedient; he was not willing to yield his place and his behavior was petulant and spiteful to a mere boy – he would have left him in slavery –"
A most indelicate snort greeted this declaration. "So what? Yield his place of ten or so years at your side for a strange nine year old boy on your word alone without one word of protest? He had the nerve to stand up to you like you've taught him and you're ready to let him be expelled, if it comes to that? Even if he's wrong, if he had the guts to stick to his blaster even in the face of your opposition, he probably should be on the fast track to his trials. What in the Force is wrong with you, Qui – this is Obi-Wan we're talking about; you know, the boy you extol the virtues of to any who will let you."
"I know who we're speaking of!" Qui-Gon exclaimed in exasperation, "but you're not listening. I did only what the Force asked of me. It was his place to yield and he refused! He does not deny Anakin has a destiny; he just refuses to let it inconvenience him. He stood in Anakin's way – in willful disobedience to the Force itself and so only validated my decision that he is not fit to be a Jedi. The Force must be allowed to guide us; it defines us!"
"No one denies that –"
"He did!" He almost bellowed. With an effort, he lowered his voice. "He proved himself to be everything you once thought of him; a hotheaded, angry young man more dedicated to himself than to the need of others. He is the padawan who successfully hid his anger issues and led me to believe he had overcome them. You think I want to believe I was deceived? You think I'm lying to myself about the will of the Force? I was there, Ni'sha; I witnessed it all."
"Witnessed what, Qui-Gon?
The Jedi master's face almost crumbled. He ran a hand over his head and in that moment he looked as broken as he felt. "He fell, Ni'sha."
She either didn't hear him, or believe what she heard. "He – what?"
"He fell – my Obi-Wan fell and I fear –" I fear he is lost, for the light has forsaken him.
"Are – are you sure?"
He nodded. "He killed and he healed – both deeds in the darkness of his despair. He killed the Zabrak who nearly killed me, but he didn't kill him in clean battle, but in rage and terror at my supposed death at his hand – killed not to save but to avenge. His heart was black with hate…and with his unclean hands and darkened soul he then called on the power of the dark side to save my life. I felt the untamed power burn through him – and I felt the Force recoil in shame and flee from his grasp."
The awful reality overwhelmed him once more; he all but staggered as he sat and brought his hands to his face. His words were muffled. "He sought revenge for what he thought was my death and he killed in anger. All this rage that had been bubbling in him had been pushing its way up for some time now and it finally exploded. The padawan I loved died that day."
Stunned, Ni'sha dropped to a seat beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I noticed that you can't even bring yourself to use his name. Qui-Gon – how awful. I swear I thought he had conquered his anger years back. I know you thought he had." Her face darkened with shared grief and Qui-Gon knew she was just as taken aback as he had been at the time. "And the Council – what punishment have they imposed on him – what corrective measures?"
"None." Like a dam breached by a sympathetic ear, his bitterness poured out in an unstoppable flood. At last someone was listening to him. It didn't matter if Ni'sha believed him or not, she, at least, listened.
And so did several others.