The Tournament
The whole temple was abuzz with activity. Initiates rushed between classes, tittle-tattling about the upcoming tournament. Jedi Knights, young and old, helped with preparing the dueling chambers. Even some masters were observing the coming events, mostly keeping their eyes on the initiates. Whenever a group of initiates passed by a master they would bow their heads in respect and some fear before hurrying along.
The tournament was a time of searching. Knights searched for their first or new apprentice. Initiates looked to prove their skill and valor before their peers and elders, hoping to catch the eyes of a prospecting knight. Masters explored the minds of the initiates with pointed questions or riddles, testing the younglings in search of prodigy or excellence, the kind of apprentice deserving of a master's wisdom. And Lyander Strasa searched for a way to cope with the stares from all three groups.
Ever since Lyander's return he had felt the mood shift in the people around him. It had been subtle at first but eventually, it became brazen.
If Lyander was observed by prospecting knights they would whisper amongst themselves and throw him curious, if not cautious, looks. During class, he was often asked to show his lightsaber, and the whispers and rumors began once he did. The teachers did dispel this behavior rather quickly, but it did eventually start up again. And the masters… The masters observed him like he was a troublemaker. Well, Master Vilkas was an exception, and so was Master Yoda the few times Lyander saw the troll, but most seemed dead set on labelling him before they even spoke to him. It was a nuisance.
At least Lyander had a few friends that had lost interest in his crimson blade rather quickly.
Jaka had asked him once if he could see the lightsaber, and to Lyander's surprise, the Zeltron had simply examined the hilt without turning on the blade. Once satisfied Jaka had not brought up the subject again and he even went so far as to compliment Lyander on the make of the hilt. However, Jaka had found the handle's curve amusing.
"No one uses form II these days," the Zeltron boy had said. "It is a dying art."
"Master Dooku used form II. Just because he left doesn't make it a 'dying art'. And if it is then that is all the more reason to save it," Lyander had replied with a huff.
Unlike Jaka, Asor had, being the excitable Twi'lek she was, begged to try out Lyander's lightsaber in one of the training halls after class. Lyander had warned her that the make of the weapon was unusual in comparison to her blade, but she had brushed him off and told him 'she'd be fine'.
Asor had, in fact, not been 'fine'.
She had ignited his blade, swung it a few times, and almost immediately grimaced. Lyander had found it funny how the curved handle threw her off. He had chosen a curved handle to synergize with Makashi, the second form of lightsaber combat. However, Asor fought almost exclusively with Ataru, the fourth form of lightsaber combat. So her excitement quickly turned into an annoyed scowl and complaints about how unreliable the design was. Lyander countered by displaying swift slices and thrusts against a training droid, showcasing the maneuverability and speed it provided. That had silenced Asor, though she promised to showcase how faulty his lightsaber was during the tournament.
Of course, the masters would never allow them to use their actual lightsabers for a duel. But seeing as Asor's pouting was amusing, Lyander wouldn't remind her of that.
Ferik, unlike Asor, had been quiet about Lyander's lightsaber, only anxiously asking if Lyander was turning to the dark side. Lyander had given him a firm 'no' and the matter had been settled. Or at least Lyander considered it settled. He would not entertain the idea of persuading Ferik every day that his allegiance lay with the Jedi.
Then there was Uta… The grey Neimodian boy had been high and mighty at first. Lyander gave a greeting and Uta haughtily dismissed him. Lyander asked how his fellow initiate felt and Uta gave him a nonanswer and walked away.
Yet while Uta refused to speak with him he did watch him with his large red eyes. The boy would scowl whenever Lyander noticed his staring and Uta would then point one of his long bony fingers at him in a warning. The dry wrinkly face of the Neimodian boy always seemed twisted with hostility and Lyander grew more and more sick of it for every day that passed.
Finally, he confronted Uta who revealed that he had heard from the older initiates, who in turn had heard it from a knight who in turn had heard it from a master, that someone carrying a crimson lightsaber was doomed to Fall. Uta claimed he was merely protecting himself and others by preparing for the worst. Lyander had only been able to stare at him in disbelief and then ask if Uta was born a fool. The Neimodian had reacted almost immediately to the insult and went so far as to call for an impromptu duel, thinking he had 'found out' Lyander's true nature.
Lyander had promptly smacked the Neimodian on the head and told him to get a hold of himself. He reminded Uta that the Force had guided him to the red Kyber crystal, not some dark Sith acolyte or an evil spirit.
Uta had wrinkled his face deep into thought before apologising. The Neimodian then overcorrected and became a zealous guardian against rumours of Lyander's supposed evil nature. Uta became a songbird for how the Force could not guide a Jedi to evil. Lyander found it strangely endearing, if annoying, how quickly Uta changed his mind on the topic.
And all the commotion surrounding Lyander's lightsaber did was drive the teachers up the walls. Or at least as much as one could drive ever-calm creatures of reason up the walls. The ever-so-forced smiles, the small one-on-one sessions asking about Lyander's emotional state, and of course the ever-present suggestion of visits to the mind healers were all the things Lyander needed to know that the teachers were concerned about the recent development. Significantly the prodding for him to visit the mind healers 'just in case' grew for every day that passed.
Lyander shuddered at the thought of visiting the psychiatrists again. He had seen them enough for one life, he would not go to them again if he could help it. He did not feel like punishing himself.
With all the excitement, the air in the temple leading up to the tournament was unique. With the rumours of Lyander's lightsaber, some sort of big scandal in the senate, and of course the initiates running around speaking with as many knights as possible it became apparent that this tournament would be different. Perhaps not in looks, but certainly in how it felt. And Lyander knew how he was feeling when the day came and they were led to secluded rooms awaiting the duels.
He felt anxious.
Lyander paced back and forth, one arm around his back while the other pulled on and twined his hair. His worried pacing drew plenty of looks from the other initiates, though Jaka's annoyed closed-eyed expression was the only one that mattered to him. The Zeltron boy sat cross-legged in a meditative stance, trying to centre himself in the Force.
Jaka was always relaxed and aloof before a duel, almost like he knew the outcome before ever igniting his lightsaber. Lyander was honestly jealous of his friend's placid nature, even if jealousy was unbecoming of a future Jedi. Though he felt some calm at the other initiates auras. Asor was excited and unfocused, like a firecracker bouncing around on concrete. Ferik seemed just as anxious as Lyander, though Ferik did not wander when he was nervous, he stayed put and grew quiet. And Uta was busy rehearsing his katas with a practice sabre.
"You should conserve your strength, Uta," Jaka called out to the Neimodian, his eyes still closed and his body completely relaxed in the meditative pose.
"I will! I just need to get this right…" Uta mumbled.
The other initiates like Elia and Nor, both human girls, seemed busy talking over strategies and tactics. There was a low buzz at all times in the room, each initiates preparing themselves in their own way.
But in Lyander's mind, none of their worries matched his. Except for maybe Jaka, the other initiates did not sense the older Jedi-to-be next door. Asor, Uta, and Ferik were at most vaguely aware that the older initiates were there. Lyander on the other hand could have sworn they stood beside him if not for the fact a wall separated them. And so he could not help but pace in worry as he sensed the strong Force signatures in the next room.
"You need to relax," Jaka said, one of his eyes peering at Lyander while the other remained closed.
"Easy for you to say."
"Ly…"
"I can't do this! I can't win against that!" Lyander said and gestured to the wall separating the younger and older initiates.
The older initiates seemed akin to flares in a dark tunnel, making Lyander's throat grow tight. He wrung his hands together and took deep calming breaths.
Jaka just gave him an unimpressed look. "You do realise that worrying about it will only hinder your chance at winning, not help you, right?"
Lyander ran his fingers through his hair. "I know! But that doesn't make me worry less!"
"Well you should calm yourself before—"
The metal door that led out into the duelling chamber slid open with a quiet whir. All the initiates got up on their feet and bowed their heads as their teacher, Master Kara, entered the room. The old woman wore a kind and calm smile, her long grey hair held back with a simple metal diadem. Her blue eyes sparkled with the life and energy of a woman half her age and despite her many wrinkles, she did not come across as eighty years old. Lyander was always impressed by how the humans in the Jedi order seemed to age with grace.
"Initiate Strasa and Cosh, would you please accompany me to the duelling ring?" Master Kara asked with a gentle bow of her head.
Asor quickly joined Kara's sides with an excited grin and she took out her practice sabre. Lyander however remained in the crowd of initiates. He swallowed thickly and threw Jaka a worried look.
"Don't worry, you're good at this," Jaka said encouragingly. "You can do this."
Lyander gave him a thankful nod and he took a deep breath before joining Master Kara and Asor.
The old Jedi master led him and Asor out of the room and into the duelling chamber. Normally the room served as an additional cafeteria, but due to its large size and round shape, it served the purpose of a duel perfectly. A temporary U-shaped viewing gallery had been erected around a white circle in the middle of the room. The gallery was filled with hooded Jedi bathed in shadows as the only available light came from lanterns around the duelling ring.
Knights, masters, and padawans alike had come to see the duels. Many would be looking for potential apprentices and some could even offer it directly after a duel. There was no better chance at acquiring a master than during the tournament.
Lyander knew this, and that is why he could not fail.
Master Kara stopped in front of the circle and held up a hand to signal them to stop following her. "Your lightsaber is to be turned off until I give the signal to start the duel. The first to score three hits on their opponent wins and leaving the circle for any reason counts as your opponent scoring a hit. You may not target each other's eyes. After you have scored a hit or been hit you must deactivate your lightsaber and return to your starting positions. Your starting positions are on opposite sides of the circle and marked with a red dot. Is all of this clear?"
"Yes, master," Asor said and bowed.
"All is clear," Lyander mumbled and bowed his head.
"Then I want you to double-check your practice sabres. Ignite them and push them against the floor," Kara said.
Asor lit hers almost immediately and pushed it against the floor. The low-powered sabre sizzled and sparked as it pushed against the metal floor, but it left no marks. Lyander lit his sabre and dragged it over the floor, and it too left no mark. He and Asor deactivated their lightsabers and looked to Kara for further instructions.
"Good. Now take your positions, and good luck to you both," Kara smiled and stepped aside.
Lyander took a deep breath and took his place by one of the red dots. Asor placed herself opposite him and grinned.
"Don't cry if I win!"
Lyander gave her a wry smile. "Certainly not."
"Lightsabers on!" Kara yelled from the side of the circle.
Both children lit their practice sabres and tensed up.
"Fight!"
Asor rushed towards him with her blade held high over her head. Lyander held out his blade to the side and observed Asor's form. Her movements were quick and aggressive, she closed the distance almost immediately, and she grinned in excitement as she launched herself forward at unnatural speed to strike him.
He recognized her style immediately as Form IV. She aimed to disarm or strike him by overwhelming his defences with speed and mobility. Crude but effective in the hands of a quick and strong opponent, and Asor was both.
Lyander shifted his weight onto his left foot and sidestepped the first strike, deflecting the blow with a roll of his wrist. Asor quickly turned to face him with yet another strike, this time an upward blow. Lyander jumped back to avoid the slash and quickly disengaged to widen the distance between himself and Asor.
"Your strength and speed are commendable, but that seems to be all you have to offer," Lyander taunted with a flat expression.
He saw a flash of anger in Asor's eyes as she charged him again.
Lyander smiled as he held up his sabre over his chest and blocked the strike. Their lightsabers sizzled and sparked as they met and Asor pushed against him with a grunt. Lyander huffed from the strain as the girl forced him to take a step back and he disengaged by jumping back and delivering a quick thrust with his lightsaber. Asor barely blocked the strike in time and fell back, eyeing him warily.
Lyander couldn't help but 'tsk' at his mistake. Probing one's opponent's mental and physical defences was key, but Asor's strength was more significant than he'd thought.
"I have a lot more to offer than strength!" Asor taunted with a grin and walked around him in a circle.
Lyander scoffed in amusement at that. "All body, no mind."
Asor growled and rushed towards him again. Lyander held up his blade only to feel the Force cry out a warning towards him. He saw how the Twi'lek held out her palm and Lyander jumped aside just in time to avoid the Force push. Dust flew past him in its wake and he scrambled to find his balance only for him to fall. He quickly got up only to feel a lightsaber to his throat. Asor stood next to him, grinning from ear to ear as she'd won first blood. She panted from the excursion and sweat clung to her brow. One of the many drawbacks of Form IV was how much energy one expelled in its aggressive movements.
Lyander glared up at the panting Twi'lek and deactivated his lightsaber. "Good job."
"First hit goes to Initiate Cosh! Return to your starting positions!" Kara yelled.
The two children returned to their positions and Lyander took a deep breath. He studied Asor's face for a second before he activated his blade once more. She was tired now, and overconfident. He had an opportunity he could not afford to waste.
"Fight!"
This time Lyander took the initiative. He rushed to meet Asor as she threw herself towards him and their blades locked within two seconds. Asor grinned as she pushed against him, but this time Lyander sidestepped and undid the sabre lock, sending her tumbling. He quickly began to move in circles around the girl, delivering swift arching strikes and jabs. Asor held up her lightsaber to block them and for every strike, she was driven back another step.
The second time the Force cried out a warning Lyander did not try to evade the Force Push. Instead, he quickly threw himself against Asor so their blades locked and he grabbed a hold of her free wrist to stop the attack. Asor gasped in surprise and tried to retaliate, but Lyander pushed her blade aside and thrust his sabre into her chest, forcing Asor back with a cough.
He deactivated his lightsaber and gave the girl a nod. She deactivated hers with a scowl.
"Second strike goes to Initiate Strasa! Return to your positions!" their teacher yelled.
Asor watched him with dark eyes as she returned to her spot across from him and Lyander rolled his wrist as he took his position. Once they stood across from one another Lyander and Asor both switched on their blades and waited for the signal.
"Fight!"
Lyander once again pushed the advantage. However, this time Asor waited for him to strike her. Lyander rapidly delivered blow after blow at the Twi'lek, prodding her defensive stances.
He saw traces of Form III in some of her blocks, but Asor mostly tried to disengage with high jumps and Force-empowered dashes. But he did not let her get away. Lyander met her wherever she landed and he quickly overwhelmed what defensive stances she did know with powerful jabs. Asor's defences were not only failing but they were also mismatched with her usual aggressive combat style.
Asor stumbled back the more he pushed and her attempts at blocking his strikes grew weaker and weaker. Lyander herded her towards the edge of the circle and she quickly threw a look over her shoulder to make sure her feet did not cross the white line. Though they both grew closer to the circle's edge until they were only a step away from it.
"Your footwork is slow!" Lyander said and brought down a hard hit onto her sabre.
"Says the boy that can't avoid a Force push!" Asor yelled and threw her weight into her strike, throwing them both back from the duelling area's edge. She then sent yet another Force push toward him, hitting him right in the chest.
Lyander flew back, his feet dragging across the floor. He steadied himself just as the Force called out in warning and he raised his sabre as Asor crashed into him with a rageful swing. She beat against his lightsaber with agitated cries and she dashed around him in circles, desperately trying to find an opening. Once again Lyander saw the characteristic blows of Form IV in her strikes.
But this time he did not let himself be overwhelmed. He deflected or danced around her strikes with a serious and focused expression. Every time she tried to start up a chain of blows he would interrupt it with a riposte and widen the distance between them. And with each failed attempt from Asor to overwhelm him Lyander showed no emotion. He wanted it to look easy, effortless even, as he deflected her blade and guided it away from his body. It wasn't easy of course, as his breathing grew more and more ragged, but he did his best to not let Asor notice that.
Lyander watched as his tactic paid off as Asor's expression twisted into a venomous snarl as he continuously disengaged, never allowing her to start up a chain of blows. And he noticed how sweat dripped off her chin, her breathing erratic and uneven.
"You're tired," he teased. "The teachers do advocate surrender to preserve one's dignity and life should the worst come to worst."
"Shut up!" Asor yelled and threw her lightsaber at him.
Lyander watched wide-eyed as the blade flew towards him akin to a spear and he raised his lightsaber to deflect it. He was just in time as the lightsaber flew past his head, grinding against his blade and almost touching his cheek.
He did not give her a chance to regain her weapon with the Force. Lyander exploded towards the girl and delivered a swift strike to her stomach, forcing her to her knees with a wheeze. He deactivated his lightsaber and stumbled back, trying to catch his breath.
Lyander did notice a man give him an approving nod. The master or knight stroked his beard in interest as he watched the duel, but any distinct features were hidden by darkness, and as such Lyander did not recognize the man.
"Third hit goes to Initiate Strasa!" Master Kara said and raised her arm. "Please return to your positions!"
Asor avoided his gaze and walked over to pick up her lightsaber. She took her position and lit the blade, giving him a determined look.
Lyander placed himself opposite from her and held out his sabre in front of him in the defensive stance of Form III. Or at least he mimicked the stance to the best of his abilities. He was not overly familiar with Form III, seeing as he had focused his training on Form II, but he knew enough to mimic it. And Asor was not skilled enough to tell the difference.
"Fight!"
Asor threw everything she had into the round. She rushed towards him and delivered blow after blow with vengeful cries. Lyander kept his breath even and matched each strike with fluid blocks and deflections. He smiled as Asor took his bait and he quickly began his dance-like pattern around her once more, taking hit after hit from her until he felt her blows weaken.
Asor's face dripped with sweat and she could barely breathe from the exhaustion. Lyander felt merciful.
In an instant, he switched his grip and delivered a hard strike against the girl's sabre. She gasped and took a step back to mount a defence but she was too tired and too slow. Lyander began hitting her time and time again with quick aggressive strikes. Asor was forced back step after step, desperately trying to regain her footing. She even called upon the Force but her exhaustion deprived her of focus, so Lyander delivered a powerful kick to her midsection, sending her rolling.
As Asor stumbled to her feet Lyander continued his assault with Form II. Two powerful strikes sent her lightsaber clattering over the floor, forcing her to take a final step out of the circle.
"Initiate Cosh is disarmed and has left the ring! The winner is Lyander Strasa!" Kara yelled and the audience bowed their heads to the two fighters.
Lyander deactivated his training sabre and collapsed onto the floor. He felt how his shirt clung to his back and he wiped the sweat out of his eyes with his sleeve. His arms and legs burned, but he couldn't help laughing in relief.
"I should have focused on the Force more…" Asor said with a pant, splayed out on her back outside the circle. "You wouldn't have won if I'd done that."
"I won because you refused to conserve your energy like you always do. All I needed to do was outlast you and avoid your blows. But you're right… If you were more powerful in the Force or had used it more I would have lost," Lyander mumbled.
Asor shook her head. "Even in victory, you're gloomy!"
"Initiates please leave the circle! We must prepare for the next duel!" Master Kara yelled and helped Lyander and Asor to their feet. "Use this time to get some water and rest. You still have fights ahead of you."
Those words couldn't have been more true. Throughout the day Lyander had to face off against Ferik's agile Form IV, Uta's irritating Form III, and finally, Jaka's Form V. Lyander had lost to Ferik, the ferocity of the Force-fueled attacks ending the match with a devastating two to three. But against Uta and Jaka he had triumphed greatly. Poor Uta had not managed to land a single hit on him, but he had made Lyander work for every hit to the point he collapsed from exhaustion after the fight.
And Jaka had just been a nuisance. While Jaka's skill with a lightsaber did not match Lyander's, his strength in the Force and chosen lightsaber form made up for all those shortcomings. Form V was the biggest weakness for any practitioner of Form II as anything Lyander threw at Jaka was immediately met by powerful ripostes or counters. Lyander focused on offence whereas Jaka freely switched between a defensive stance and an offensive one to create an opening.
Asor had been ferocious with her use of the Force in an attempt to end the fight as quickly as possible. Jaka on the other hand had been calm and collected as he dodged swings and used Force pull to hold Lyander's legs in place, allowing him the chance of delivering a powerful jab. Not to mention Jaka's powerful Force push that sent Lyander out of bounds twice. Lyander ultimately triumphed in that fight as he always won out in close-quarters combat, but Jaka did not make it easy for him.
Yet with only one loss and three victories Lyander was qualified to face off against a much harder foe. An older initiate named Larian.
Larian reminded Lyander of himself. Focused and determined before the fight, taking a stance of Form II to prepare himself for long drawn-out duelling. They even resembled one another with pale skin and green eyes. Though Larian had artificially coloured his hair red, unlike Lyander's natural brown.
Lyander was looking at an older version of himself. And he hated how that made his legs tremble. Lyander took a deep breath and ignited his lightsaber and he watched as Larian did the same while crouching down and tensing every muscle in his body.
"Fight!"
Lyander barely had time to raise his sabre before Larian flew across the duelling ring with speeds far outpacing Ferik's and Asor's. Lyander blocked the strike with a gasp and his eyes widened as he realised that Larian knew more than one form of lightsaber combat. Lyander gritted his teeth and moved to push back only for Larian to open his palm.
The Force push hit him with enough power to sound out an audible smack throughout the hall and Lyander felt all the air leave his lungs with a pained cry. He was pushed back with such force he rolled and skidded across the floor. He dropped his lightsaber which went clattering over the ground. Once Lyander came to a stop he was far out of bounds. He laid with his back against the viewing gallery and a knight helped him to his feet. Lyander gave the man a thankful nod and shamefully made his way back to the ring. He listened to the murmurs of the onlookers and bit his cheek. He couldn't make out if they were discussing Larian's strength or his failure, but the approving looks he had gotten before were nowhere to be seen.
"First hit goes to Initiate Keo!" Master Kara called out from the sidelines.
As Lyander placed himself in the circle across from Larian he took a deep breath and focused on the older boy. "Speed huh?"
"It is well known you can not accomplish such a feat, so why not use it against you, squirt?" Larian said with a grin and swirled his lightsaber.
Lyander scowled and readied himself. "There is more you need to defeat me than speed."
Master Kara watched them both for a second before she raised her hand. "Fight!"
Once more Larian exploded outwards at a ludicrous speed and stopped just in front of Lyander, aiming a thrust at his chest. But this time Lyander was ready for him. He raised his arm and struck Larian's sabre with his own from underneath. Larian stumbled back from the riposte and Lyander pressed the advantage, swinging his blade against the older boy. Yet just as quickly as he'd lost his balance Larian blocked the strike.
"You adapt quickly! But you're not fast enough!" Larian said and delivered three rapid strikes against Lyander.
Lyander raised his sabre and deflected the first strike and positioned himself to Larian's left. The second strike was also deflected and Lyander then thrust forward to meet Larian's blade. The third strike turned into a lock and Lyander grunted as he pushed all his weight against Larian.
The older initiate jumped back to distance himself from Lyander, yet it was too late. Lyander swept his sabre at Larian's legs and the older initiate landed with a stumble as he realised Lyander had managed to hit him.
"Second hit goes to Initiate Strasa!" Kara yelled. "Return to your spots!"
As they took their positions Lyander watched how Larian eyed him with a glare. The older initiate switched his weight between his feet and he swirled his lightsaber menacingly. Lyander couldn't help but smile as he realised he'd managed to wound Larian's pride.
"Fight!"
Lyander ran for his opponent and was met halfway by yet another of Larian's quick outbursts. Their sabres clashed and Lyander began a valiant defence as volley after volley of blows hammered down on him. Lyander kept his breathing stable and he focused solely on defence, desperately meeting each blow with blocks. Larian prodded his defences with occasional jabs but Lyander refused to give him an in, always dodging or blocking the strike.
"You're angry! I've heard that it ruins one's focus!" Lyander taunted and deflected yet another blow.
Larian growled as he delivered a much firmer strike, forcing Lyander backward. Yet before Larian could press the advantage Lyander delivered a powerful thrust towards the older initiate. Larian blocked the strike, but Lyander used the momentum to continue striking at Larian. Soon he was dancing around the older boy, slashing at him with graceful arched swings. Larian swung at him in frustration and each time Lyander just blocked the strike and delivered a riposte. The more Larian swung the more Lyander learned about his defences.
However, Larian was not an idiot. He delivered a hard jab in Lyander's direction and forced him back before he retreated. Lyander gave chase but the Force once again called out in warning as Larian held out his palm.
Lyander called upon the Force, the familiar wave that ebbed and flowed, and he delivered a Force push to meet Larian's. But the older initiate's attack broke apart Lyander's meager push and hit him directly in the chest. Lyander flew back and rolled over the ground until he came to a stop outside the circle.
Lyander could only curse under his breath at the power discrepancy between him and the older boy.
"Third round goes to Initiate Keo!" Kara yelled.
Lyander got up with a growl and he looked out over the sea of knights and masters shrouded in darkness. Their murmurs had been positive before, yet after seeing Lyander's weakness at blocking yet another Force push they seemed far less impressed. Not to mention Lyander's seeming inability to use the move himself was a bad sign especially since a proper hit with a Force push was an almost guaranteed victory. As he got up he caught the eye of one knight who eyed him with disinterest.
Would it be as he had feared? Would he lose out on gaining a master because the Force refused to aid him? Lyander gritted his teeth and eyed Larian with a dark glare. If the Force refused to help him then he would make it help him.
"Take your positions!"
Lyander placed himself across from Larian. He gripped the training sabre so tightly his knuckles whitened and he imagined the wave from the crystal cave. Instead of letting the wave flow through him Lyander aimed to steer it.
"Fight!"
As Larian ran for him to quickly deliver the final strike Lyander held out his hand and focused. He felt the wave, the serenity and calm it inspired, and he imagined building a canal for it. Time slowed down as he forced the wave down the canal, and he shivered as a chill fell over his bones. Yet he felt the Force's power, the strength. Just as Larian reached him he opened his eyes and unleashed the power.
The Force push threw dust up into the air and its shockwave rattled the wooden viewing gallery. This sheer power hit Larian head-on. There was a horrible snapping noise and the older boy cried out as he flew through the air and hit the ground with a pained wheeze. Lyander watched with a gleeful smile as the older initiate rolled and stopped near the circle's edge. Larian grabbed a hold of one of his legs and cried in pain, something that only made Lyander's smile widen.
He slowly walked towards Larian and raised his sabre, the smile never leaving his face.
He could win.
"Lyander!"
He would finally show them all wrong!
"Lyander!"
They would finally tell him he was worthy!
The hand that grabbed a hold of his sabre arm brought him out of his thoughts and the mental canal he had built collapsed, leaving the wave to continue its peaceful path. He turned to look at whoever had grabbed him with a snarl.
"Why did you stop me!? I was going to win!"
"Lyander please listen to me!" Kara said, her face twisted in fear and panic.
Lyander blinked at his teacher's uncharacteristically scared expression and he slowly looked toward Larian. The older boy lay splayed across the floor moaning in pain. Not just one but both his legs were bent at a weird angle and he was surrounded by knights who placed him on a stretcher. The knights looked at Lyander with worry or even disgust. One of the knights placed himself between Lyander and Larian, glaring at him.
Lyander's eyes widened and he dropped his lightsaber in shock. "What?..."
"Why Lyander? Why! Why did you do it?" Kara asked him and bent down so they were eye to eye. "Why did you hurt him?"
Lyander just stared at her. He slowly looked down at his palm and then back toward the group of knights. "I… I don't…"
Kara let go of his arm and hid her face in her hands. Lyander could only look around at the knights and masters in the room and look at the disapproval and disappointment in their eyes. Some left the chamber in a hurry and others approached the ring. Lyander watched as one master approached him and he placed the rather distressed Master Kara between himself and the unknown Jedi.
The unknown master was too well put together, too well groomed, and too perfectly symmetrical for Lyander's liking. His dark hair did not have a single loose strand nor was there a single wrinkle on his robes. The man's dark beard had been trimmed to have harsh angles and corners, making his sharp chin stand out. Not to mention how his shirt seemed recently ironed and how his eyes were cold and harsh akin to a blizzard on Hoth. And the man's expression was no more telling than stone.
"Come with me, child," the master said. "You can't stay here."
Kara looked up at the knight and shook her head. "Master Fisk, please, he is my student. I should handle this."
"No. You have clearly shown yourself incapable of handling this initiate. I shall take him for now."
Kara stood up and nodded. "Very well… Please do not be too harsh on him, Lyander—"
"I am not his master, it is not for me to be harsh or lenient. You however must be harsh. This behaviour is unacceptable for a Jedi and leniency can not be tolerated for this infraction. I expect disciplinary action to be taken."
"Yes, of course, Master Fisk," Kara mumbled and stepped aside.
Lyander watched the old Jedi master with worry and swallowed thickly as the man took a step closer. He did not recognize Master Fisk, but with his straight pose and harsh expression, he commanded great authority in the room. Many knights had stepped aside to let him deal with Lyander while they helped Larian to the healers' wing.
Lyander could only watch Larian be carried out of the room with a shameful expression. "I didn't mean to—"
"Yet you did. Please follow me, I'll keep an eye on you until the council is ready to speak with you."
"The council?" Lyander squeaked out, his face pale.
"Of course. You badly injured that boy and I am certain I felt the Darkness cling to you even if it was just for a second. You must explain yourself to the masters on the council when they call on you. But until then I shall keep an eye on you."
Fisk motioned to a door opposite of the one the knights had taken and Lyander dragged his feet to it. He still couldn't believe what he had done. He had not only failed the order but he had failed himself. He was never becoming a knight now. He was likely never to become a Jedi at all.
As Master Fisk led him away from the duelling chamber Lyander couldn't help but sob.
What had he done?
