"Not a bad session," Barin remarked as he towelled himself off after lightsaber sparring practice with a few of the other padawans. "You would say that," Juli responded coldly, as she blatantly admired Xanatos' half-stripped body. Her eyes flickered briefly across to Barin, and hesitated for a moment. Most people were surprised to find that despite his minimal bulk there was no lack of wiry sinew and lean muscle on the short young man's slender frame. After a thoughtful moment or two, Juli's attention returned to Xanatos, whose own muscles rippled suggestively as he rubbed himself down and reached for his fresh clothing- tantalising and annoyingly unavailable. "Juli, you always try for that fancy forward lunge, you always over-extend yourself, and Barin invariably kicks your pert little behind as a result," said Xanatos, returning Juli's gaze with knowing superiority. Sara felt a stab of jealousy at Xanatos' description of Juli, and did not miss the bitter but possessive way in which Juli was admiring him. She took a step closer to him. Xanatos grinned at her, and Juli's expression became even more sour than before. "All Barin's strikes ought to count as below the belt," Juli said with malice. "He's too short to reach any higher." "If your nose was not up in the air all the time you would see me coming," countered Barin smoothly, although his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "But then I'd have to put up with the smell," Juli said with disdain, flipping her hair back over her shoulder with an angry jerk of her head and abruptly turning away. "Now now children. Less bickering," said Xanatos, fastening his belt around his tunic and draping his arm around Sara's shoulders. "I never bicker," Barin replied imperturbably, maintaining his composure rather better than Juli. "I debate, you argue, she bickers." Juli spun round. "So I lost, big deal. Where's your famous good manners, silver-tongue?" she demanded. "Two insults in less than a minute. Wouldn't your Master be pleased to hear you?" Barin went very quiet. You could almost see the ice crystallising around him. Then he blinked, and smiled faintly. "My dear, when I choose to be insulting you can be sure it will be far more damaging than those minor remarks. I must offer my apologies, however. I forget how upsetting it is for you to be beaten by Sara as well for a change, instead of rubbing her nose in the dirt as you usually do." "Why you-" Juli drew back a hand as if to slap him, then thought better of it. "I do assure you that any lack of sympathy on that score is entirely intentional," Barin concluded. He gave a polite bow, but his attention never left Juli for a second. Juli's eyes blazed. She glared at Barin, then at Xanatos with his arm tucked securely about Sara. Pain, jealously, hatred and a flicker of loneliness all passed across her features. "You will have to admit defeat one day, Juli," Barin went on more gently, "and to learn not to take your feelings out on other people." He tilted his head and gave her a slightly shy, slightly teasing smile. "Will you let the fight rest for the moment, and accept the consolation prize?" He offered Juli his hand. Juli stared at him, knocked off balance by his sudden switch from sneering superiority to a quiet appeal which was rather attractive. Barin took advantage of her hesitation to take her hand and slide it into the crook of his arm. She put up a token resistance, then leaned into him. Barin was not Xanatos, but he was someone who would pay attention to her, and make her feel wanted... she pushed away that thought. Barin was a means to stay close to her goal. She would make sure Sara was only a passing fancy, and then she would be there when the girl was gone. In the mean time... yes, in the mean time she would amuse herself by finding a way to get past Barin's seemingly impervious aura of arrogance. She would find a way to make him hurt. She snuggled closer to Barin's side, sliding an arm around his waist and inwardly laughing at the startled smile on his face. Yes, that would work. She would find a way in and as soon as Xanatos got over his infatuation with little Sara she would leave. Barin was so fond of preaching lessons in life. Well she would teach him one in return: that life was only emptiness and pain. "Padawan." The voice from the back of the room was quiet, but demanded attention. Xanatos and Sara stopped and turned to see Lerrek Vaarn standing at the edge of the training mats, his hands tucked neatly into his sleeves in front of his chest. Juli felt Barin tense all over. Sara caught such a maze of emotions on Barin's face that it was impossible to pick out any one in particular. All the padawans wondered just how long the knight had been there. None of the four had noticed him enter. "Master?" Barin answered, keeping his voice steady and neutral. Lerrek Vaarn stepped forwards, nodding politely to the other padawans. "Time for some training, padawan." Lerrek was well practiced at giving no hint of his mood or intentions. "I have already been sparring, master," Barin said respectfully, dropping Juli's hand so that he could bow properly. "A real opponent will not allow you to rest, regardless of the battles you have had to fight beforehand," Lerrek told his padawan gravely. "No master," Barin agreed, his eyes downcast. He shot a sideways look at the other padawans. "May my friends watch?" he asked, tentatively. Lerrek's jaw tightened for a second, almost imperceptibly. Then a slow smile spread across his face, taking in his penetrating yellow eyes but never reaching his mouth. Barin shivered, then stood rigid. "Yes, if they wish," Lerrek said, his rich, rolling voice sending a prickling sensation down every spine. "I feel that would be an instructional exercise for all concerned." Xanatos, Sara and Juli filed over to the side of the room to watch. Barin reached for his lightsaber, but Lerrek help up a hand to stop him. "No, padawan. Today we will uphold a still more ancient fighting tradition." He took up a long, thin box, the wood veneered in an intricate geometric pattern. The box opened silently to reveal the slender silver blades nestled in the deep blue lining. "Chose your sword, padawan." Sara's eyes went wide with surprise; Xanatos and Juli both looked interested. "That's real metal!" Sara exclaimed. "Quite real, and very sharp," Lerrek agreed. "But now your silence would be appreciated." Master and padawan each chose a sword. From the way they handled the weapons it was clear that neither of them was a stranger to the archaic blades. The positions they took when they faced one another were quite different to those of most lightsaber duelling- side on, legs together, weapon arm outstretched with the sword-tip pointed at the other's throat. Barin balanced his weight on his toes, his eyes narrowing in concentration. Lerrek seemed quite relaxed. "Lay on," he said, and the duel began. Lerrek turned aside Barin's straight thrust with a slight upwards twist of his blade, stepping forwards under his padawan's arm and sweeping his sword around towards Barin's back. Barin's sword scythed in an arc over his head and blocked the attack behind his neck. The padawan spun around beneath his elbow and jumped clear, moving too fast to give his Master another chance to catch him from behind. Lerrek's eyes narrowed fractionally; Barin swallowed. "But I only dance as moonlight through the forest leaves, a jesting sprite, a fleeting glimmer on the forsaken moor," he quoted lightly. Lerrek's mouth twisted, and he pressed forwards with rapid chops to Barin's sides, legs and arms, not giving his padawan time to counterattack after his parries. "Then thee shall only laugh when I spear thee through and through," the Master declaimed, an edge to his voice as the padawan held him off, blocking every blow until one fell a little short. Then Barin dodged and struck at the same time, the tip of his blade cutting a slit in the sleeve of his master's tunic. "You are improving, padawan," Lerrek said, his yellow gaze hardening. Barin took an involuntary step backwards. "But a joke, a nothingness, my lord," he said quickly, almost stuttering over the lines. "For surely the Master is but playing with this most humble spirit." Lerrek smiled and struck again. The blades sparked as they met, catching the light as they spun and blurred about the two fighters. The air filled with the sounds of harsh breathing, desperate footwork and screeching metal. Lerrek's blows landed hard and fast, using the advantage of his strength and greater reach. Barin dodged and leaped; dancing clear of the sweeping silver blade, but the effort was causing him to tire. "A poor sport is this," declared Lerrek, "to strike at flickering flame and set a blade to the wind." "Victory is yours, if you would grasp at empty air," Barin gasped, betraying his exhaustion with his breathless words. His muscles were trembling, and his grip on the hilt began to slip. As he parried yet again Lerrek's blade skittered past the guard on his sword and sliced into his hand. Barin dropped the blade and fell backwards, but Lerrek pressed on. "A fool grasps at air; victory calls for blood." Barin and the three observers all watched in frozen horror as the knight's killing blow sliced down. From somewhere beyond exhaustion Barin found the agility and strength to roll aside. As his master's sword struck the mat where he had been lying, he seized hold of Lerrek's arm and hauled himself back onto his feet, putting his master off-balance in the process. He kicked out at Lerrek's shoulder, dived for his own sword, grabbed it in his left hand and rolled back to his feet, then whirled to face his master. "Yet blood calls for vengeance," the padawan forced out between heaving breaths. Lerrek was down on one knee. He rose slowly but fluidly, as unstoppable as a landslide. His yellow eyes fixed on his padawan's face as he hefted his sword again. "Very good, padawan," he said, his voice as melodious and compelling as always. "But there is one lesson you have yet to learn, and you will find just how apt your choice of play has been." Now the knight raised the standard of his swordplay, and it was clear he had the upper hand. Even Jedi eyes could not follow the dance of his blade. Barin was forced into retreat in the face of the knight's attacks, stumbling and falling, desperately rolling back to his feet only to go down again. Lerrek's sword-tip licked out, cutting through belt and sash, flapping clothing hampering the already tired padawan. Scraps of cloth fluttered to the ground, piece by piece, as Lerrek slowly stripped Barin of his tunics. Lerrek was implacable in his attacks, never pulling a blow, slicing into skin whenever his padawan was too slow to evade an attack. Finally Barin fell and could not find the energy to stand again. "Mercy, my lord," he whispered. "You have mastered the wind and fire, and nothing is forbidden thee." Then he let his head drop to the mat, and closed his eyes. The three observers watched in astonishment. Every master trained his padawan in his own way, but none of them had seen anything like this. Sara was horrified at the way Lerrek had literally beaten his pupil into the ground. She glanced at Juli, then at Xanatos, and was shocked to see them both wearing an expression of satisfaction. Xanatos turned, noticed that Sara was taken aback by his reaction, and patted her on the shoulder. He leaned in close to her. <<Why do you think Barin's so tough?>> he told her, mind-to-mind. <<Vaarn wouldn't do this if Barin couldn't cope with it. A Jedi has to push his limits to improve. Why do you think I push /you/ so hard when we're training? It's no different.>> "It was barbaric," whispered Sara. "Up, padawan," Lerrek commanded. Barin curled onto his knees, placed a hand on the wall, and dragged himself upright. His tunics were in tatters, scattered across the floor. His torso was criss-crossed with bloody lines and smears. Lerrek stepped forwards, his blade held to the side as he extended an arm to help his padawan to stand. Panting, Barin looked into his master's yellow eyes and found himself trapped. His master's presence flooded his mind. <<Enjoying yourself, padawan?>> Barin's mouth twisted in a mixture of pleasure and self-disgust. His numerous scratches smarted and tingled over his skin, the salt of his sweat stinging them and sending adrenaline thrumming through his body. The pain was a drug to him, sharpening his senses and heightening his awareness. Lerrek reached out with his mind, eagerly lapping up his padawan's reactions- the pain, the exhaustion, the fear and the perverted, masochistic delight. Barin tried to lift his mental shields against the invasion, but his master battered them down again as if they were blades of grass. <<You have no need to block me out, padawan. We are a team; we are a pair, a partnership. You need hide nothing from me. Oh, I know your little secret. I know why you take such care to hide your pain- and how much you enjoy it. Perhaps the council would disapprove, but I understand. I am your master, and I would never reject you. It is not wrong padawan; it is a part of who you are. Let me in, padawan, and I will show you how to control it.>> Barin could feel his will dissolving in the yellow gaze. He knew his master was right. Lerrek was his master, everything he did was for the best. All he had to do was to give in, to trust, to love, to obey. Barin could feel his master's influence as a soothing fog flowing through him, healing, calming, warm and safe. In Barin's confused thoughts one tiny spark of self-preservation remained. It was the nagging voice of cynicism that said nothing was safe, nothing was to be trusted, everything was a lie. In the resulting conflict of emotions only one path remained straight and clear. Everyone in the room felt the surge of anger as Barin let rage flood his mind and body, forcing out his master's insidious presence, thrusting aside doubt and pain. The sword he still held thudded wetly into his master's side. Lerrek's face contorted then cleared. The knight leaped backwards. It was impossible to tell how badly he had been hurt, but he showed no signs of faltering as he held off his padawan's furious attacks. "This is not the way, padawan," he said, managing to speak calmly even in the whirlwind of the fight. "You must not give in to your anger." Barin said nothing, his vision misted and red as he continued to hammer attack after attack against his retreating master. "Padawan, NO!" Lerrek commanded, and he almost got through. Barin hesitated, only for a moment, but it was enough to allow Lerrek to regain control of the situation. As Barin resumed his attacks Lerrek gathered himself and leaped upwards. Barin stopped with the puzzlement of a predator that pounces and then finds its target gone. The flat of Lerrek's blade swatted across his buttocks. Barin whirled, and another flat-bladed blow landed where the first had struck. Barin stood still, trembling and gasping for breath, the redness draining from his vision but leaving the room spinning gently in its wake. Lerrek's voice came from behind him, still steady and calm. "Do I have to spank you like a child again?" Barin blinked muzzily, aware now of the shocked expressions of his friends, of his aching body, burning lungs and stinging cuts, of the blood on his sword, of the punishment that faced him when he finally returned to his room alone with his master. "No master," he whispered. "I am sorry, master. I gave in to anger. I know that was wrong." Lerrek nodded gravely, and placed a hand on his padawan's shoulder. "I am disappointed in you, padawan. I will give some thought to your punishment. I want you to pick up your clothes, take both swords, clean them well and return to our rooms with them. You will meditate until I join you." Barin bowed and began to gather up the rags that had once been his tunics. He would have to walk through most of the Temple dressed as he was- clad only in pants and boots, scratched and sweaty, clutching a bundle of rags and a box of swords. People would ask questions. Soon everybody in the Temple would know that he had given in to anger and injured his own master. He stopped suddenly, cold dread gripping his stomach. "Master... please... you do still want me? I will still be your padawan? You understand me, you would not send me away?" Lerrek smiled, and pulled his padawan into an embrace. Barin could feel the warm, sticky dampness at his master's side, and knew that the sword-wound was still bleeding. "Padawan, my padawan," Lerrek soothed. "No, I would never send you away." "I hurt you," Barin said, trying to pull free, but Lerrek held him closer. "Let me see to your wound. Please, master. You know I am good at healing." Lerrek let his hand brush over his padawan's head and buried his face in Barin's hair, drinking in the odours of sweat, anger and fear. A self-satisfied smile oozed across his face, but he was careful that no trace of it remained when he lifted his head once more. "Yes, my padawan. I know. Let us return to our rooms together, then." Lerrek released his hold, and Barin's legs almost gave way from weariness. Barin picked up the last of the torn clothing, passing the other padawans on the way to collect the box for the swords. He vaguely noted Juli's smug expression, Sara's sympathy and distress, and Xanatos's carefully neutral greeting. "Tough one, huh, Barin?" Xanatos asked. Barin just nodded. "You got him, though. Twice. You see, Sara," Xanatos went on, "Even Barin gets the stuffing knocked out of him sometimes. So don't worry so much about it yourself. You'll improve. Master Vaarn?" he called, raising his voice to be heard by the Twi'lek knight. "Xanatos?" the knight made the name into a query. "If it isn't an impertinence, sir, what was the last lesson? You said that Barin still had one lesson to learn." Vaarn's yellow eyes darkened, shadowed beneath his heavy brows. "The last lesson, padawan Xanatos, is how to accept defeat." The knight made his way slowly towards the door, not waiting for Barin to follow. "Come, my padawan. This is a lesson better continued in private." Xanatos was clambering to his feet, and Juli was smiling faintly with her face tilted towards the ceiling, already planning how she would relate the incident to her girl friends. Only Sara caught the expression on Barin's face as the padawan picked up the sword box and stumbled tiredly after his master. It gave her the impression of a wamprat trapped in the lights of an onrushing speeder; aware of its fate but somehow unable to do anything to avert it. Barin must have sensed her watching him, because he turned his head and glanced down at her suddenly white face. He managed to find a smile from somewhere. "Worry not," he said, although he didn't sound too hopeful. "I shall think of something." "Good luck," Sara said; she didn't know why, and once she had said it it seemed rather inconsequential. Barin's face tightened, and he blinked rapidly a couple of times. "Thank you," he whispered with real sincerity. Then he shouldered his way through the door, and was gone. |
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| The Last Lesson By HaiGan |
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