The Golden Padawan

by Diane Lau

  And that was my downfall.

  Granted, to do this properly was a challenge to any Knight, much less one not yet even a Padawan. But I couldn’t even quite grasp the concept. To me, the Third Stance and the Third Focus seemed almost counterproductive, at odds with one another. Of course for a Jedi to fight successfully, he had to rely as much as possible upon the Force. But to become submissive all the while raising your physical powers to their greatest peak? How was this possible? When I gathered my strength, I consistently became more aware of my own powers, I felt my aggressive side come to the fore, I felt almost arrogant. This was, of course, the polar opposite of the submissive state I sought when meditating, when my sense of self diminished to the point where my identity nearly became lost. And tonight, same problem, I completed Third Stance while trying to do Third Focus—after all, they were to be simultaneous in each of the Routines—and I could sustain neither. The best I could do was to not lose the ground I gained in First and Second…and this attempt seemed especially poor, I was feeling bombarded with some sort of strange agitation…

  “Trouble with Third then, soon-to-be Padawan?” came a voice from in front of me.

  My eyes flew open. It was, of course, Brenan. “Master!” The word slipped out and could not be taken back, making things worse. “Oh, I embarrass myself!” was all I could utter.

  He grinned, his arms folded across his chest, and a look in his eye like he was trying to decide how cruelly he wanted to tease me. The look softened; he had chosen mercy. “It took me six years to master,” he said, “you would therefore insult me to do it properly now.”

  “I’ve worked on the Routines a long time…but nothing so important ever comes easy, I guess.” I had let my arms drop to my sides. I knew my concentration had been good, for I felt as if I had literally dropped my lightsaber on the ground. I also knew it had been good because I had actually been picking up Brenan’s presence, which had quieted now from that peculiar agitation to a steady warm humming.

  “I’d say your work has paid off. Discipline is always more important than talent.” He took a stride closer to me, smiling broadly. “Listen to me, I sound like one of my treatises.”

  “And shouldn’t you?”

  “Spend enough time with me, you’ll never believe I wrote them. And I have no desire to talk right now, there was too much talk at the banquet. I assume you have your own lightsaber?”

  Confused, I nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “Then go get it, I want to try you out.”

  The bottom fairly fell out of my stomach. “Oh no, I—I—”

  “A moment ago you called me Master, now you refuse me?” His eyes were sparkling. The warmth I felt from him then reassured me, but nevertheless, this was my idol, and I was horrified at the prospect of showing him how poorly I fought. But in my rational mind I did want to do it. After all, what could be more thrilling than a private battle with Brenan Auri-Owan? How I wished I could steady my pounding heart!

  Then I had a crazy idea. I remembered the feeling I had had when we shook hands at the banquet. So I reached across to him and took hold of his wrist for a moment. In an instant, the sensation washed away my fear, and in its wake was an overwhelming sense that nothing I could do would turn him from me.

  “Do you mean my practice saber?” I asked him calmly, releasing his wrist.

  I saw him look down as my hand drew away, a flicker of confusion on his face. In an instant he had mastered it and looked up again to meet my gaze. “Only if it can stand up to this, which is all I have with me,” he said, and drew his own lightsaber. The beam extended, pure gold, surely the most beautiful lightsaber I had ever seen.

  “It’s magnificent,” I said.

  “Thank you,” he answered in a modest tone, which wordlessly told me he had made the weapon himself. “Now go get your real lightsaber, I can see you’re good enough not to hurt me with it—bring it here quickly.”

  “Here?” I asked, sorry at once to sound so disrespectful. “Not the Room of a Thousand Fountains, sir?”

  He grimaced dramatically, feigning aggravation, and extinguished his saber. “Damn, I suppose not. But wouldn’t it be fun, slashing around trying to avoid bringing down all the marble and venzite and slicing up the regelia blossoms?”

  I stared at him a moment, then burst out laughing. “Yes,” I agreed. “And if you and I had no obligations, I would be happy to do it. However, I am not even a Padawan, and I would get disapprobation. Worst of all, I would lose my privilege to attend your seminar tomorrow.”

  “Hmm. Well, all right. You could recommend a better spot?”

  “There’s a courtyard south of the trainees’ chambers, it’s quite large, down by the south end is far enough away not to trouble anyone, and it’s permitted. Sort of. If you were there with me, I’m certain it would be all right.”

  “I know exactly where you mean. You run then, I’ll walk, we’ll meet there.”

  “Yes, I’ll run—” I said, and did.

  It was the worst possible circumstance to foster calm. I was giddy, and elated, and overwhelmed with astonishment at my good fortune. A private training session with Auri-Owan! What had I done to merit it? To think that my first chance to see him fight in person would be facing me over the beams of our lightsabers…And yes, I was still a little frightened as well. Frightened, but determined to do my best. And my best would, of course, require complete calm.

  I reached my quarters in what seemed like an eyeblink; fortunately there was no one around, no doubt the celebrations still occupied most of the trainees. I opened my lock drawer and took out my lightsaber, sheathing it under my short cloak. I dashed out, down the hall as fast as I could without looking peculiar if anyone were to see me, trying at least to look calm.

  In truth, I didn’t even want to be calm. I asked myself if this hadn’t been the most amazing evening of my life. My Jedi training told me no occasion was exempt from being lived with as much clarity and serenity as possible, but I had never been fond of that teaching and certainly had no use for it at the moment. Brenan Auri-Owan attended me in the south courtyard! Could it be happening?

  I didn’t believe it truly until I arrived, breathless, in the moonlit stretch beyond the orleander grove…and there found the man leaning motionless against the nearest tree.

  “I hurried,” I said, panting.

  “So I see,” he replied, and his smile was bright even in darkness. “Catch your breath, Aeli. Let me see your saber.”

  I handed it over and watched him ignite the beam and test the weapon’s weight. “You could handle a little more, I’d say. Just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean the beam should run short.” Brandishing my lightsaber, he ran through the five positions. His grace was breathtaking. He extinguished the beam and passed the weapon to me. “Do you need more time?”

  “Truthfully? I could use another year or two. But now seems to be the moment the Force has chosen.” I laughed, a little nervously. At that moment, my preference would have been simply to watch him fight.

  “Syzac’s Drill?” he asked, taking up his own lightsaber.

  For purposes of preserving the life and limb of trainees, lightsaber practice was choreographed. There was a whole range of classic drills one learned by rote. Trainees always practiced against Knights or Masters, and each opponent had his own required movements. Just as in a dance, one led and one followed; the “Master’s part” led and it was his role to set the tempo, while the “Padawan’s part” was to match his better’s pace and lead. Syzac’s was an extremely popular drill of moderate difficulty, although up tempo it became quite challenging, and was often used as a high difficulty drill by being executed double-time.

  “I could do it double if you like,” I offered.

  “Standard to warm up. You have plenty of time to impress me, soon-to-be Padawan. Take as long as you need to, when I see your eyes open I’ll know you’re ready.”

  We faced off and ignited our lightsabers. “Prepare,” said Br
enan. I closed my eyes and did the Three Routines. To my relief, years of exercising thus on a daily basis had paid off; even under these most stimulating of circumstances, I managed to get decent focus. I opened my eyes.

  What I saw astounded me. Brenan had so completely stilled himself it was palpable. He was not blank or emotionless: on the contrary, if anything his presence had grown more intense. But it was a perfectly centered presence, he expended no energy of any kind as he anticipated engagement. This was so different from his normal mode of being that it unsettled me. And I could feel no emanation from him as I had before. That, more than anything, threw off my concentration completely.

  So I stared at him with my jaw hanging, totally undone.

  “What is it?” he said.

  And that quickly, he was back. Brenan was completely himself again. I even felt the sensation return, the warm silent murmur. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “It was just that you were—so different—it threw me off.” I hung my head. “That’s no excuse.”

  He extinguished his saber and lowered it. “You need a moment,” he told me. That was the understatement of the year. I likewise turned off my lightsaber and took a deep sigh. I closed my eyes to try again, but his voice stopped me. “No, come here a minute.”

  We each took a step toward each other and then he took a second one. His hand took me by the chin and raised my face. I looked him in the eyes…

  …and fell in. Or dove in. It seemed more the latter, or rather that I was pulled. Yes, that was it, I was drawn in…and what appeared silver in the dim light grew more and more blue the deeper I went, more blue and clearer and simpler. “Just be quiet,” he instructed, in a low voice. That was all he had to say. I needed to know no more than his will. All the noise passed out of me.

  The Knight released my chin, stepped back, keeping his eyes steady on mine. “Prepare,” he said. I nodded, unblinking. “Engage.” Our sabers raised and their beams touched, his gold against my green. He took the first move and the drill was on.

  If I had ever done Syzac’s at standard pace so well, I could certainly not recall it. Of course it wasn’t me, it was Brenan. His moves were so even, his timing so perfect, it was hard not to get caught up in the steady flow. I had done Syzac’s with our instructor at the Temple, Master Wed’azon, and thought him quite accomplished. There was no comparison. I had never before noticed the balance in the way the drill was arranged, the crescendo of energy which built and then resolved in the final moves, like a concerto. Now it was so obvious. When we completed the final sweep, from tail position to upper, I almost felt an echo through the courtyard like the dying notes of an orchestra.

  “Very good,” said Brenan, his face illuminated golden from his saber beam. “Double then?”

  I nodded, not wanting to speak and break the spell of my own quietness.

  “Prepare,” he said.

  I closed my eyes briefly just to be sure I was still clear, then opened them.

  “Engage.”

  How clever of Master Syzac…of course, the drill was meant to be run at double pace. At this speed, in each move one created the energy for the next one. I felt a spark of giddiness but quelled it at once with the echo of his voice in my mind: “Just be quiet.” My concentration focused all the more. I noticed then how Auri-Owan was adjusting his motion to accommodate my size and weight, something Master Wed’azon rarely did, much less with such complete consistency. He anticipated my every position with perfect accuracy. The force of each blow was measured to match the force of mine, to keep our mutual balance perfect. I knew that were this real battle, he would have used the same skills to overpower me in moments, knowing how to destroy my balance as much as to augment it. I wondered if he couldn’t simply overpower me with a look, in fact.

  The final sweep came too soon, I wanted it to go on and on.

  “Excellent,” said Brenan warmly. “You have much talent, in fact I think there’s more to be seen.” He smiled, and reached over to clasp me on the shoulder.

  “To be truthful, you make me feel like I could do anything. I suppose you have that effect on any training partner.”

  “That’s what I should do, but it doesn’t always work quite so well. Do you know Celanarian’s Drill?”

  My breath caught. “Yes, I’ve chosen it for my final this year.”

  “Do you have it ready, then?”

  My heart was pounding. “I know my part, but I haven’t been able to practice with a partner. No one here knows Celanarian’s except Master Wed’azon.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing I showed up. By the end of the week you’ll be able to do it backwards.”

  I can’t even describe the thrill these words brought me. Apparently my expression revealed some of it, because Brenan said, “Prepare. And take an extra moment this time.”

  I did as I was told. I found great motivation in the fact that I loved Celanarian’s and had been simply dying for the Master to find time to practice with me. Just getting to perform the drill at last was wonderful enough. And doing Syzac’s had shown me what possibilities there were with the right partner…

  …and I had never had a partner like this one.

  Just be quiet. It was amazing how well that worked. I opened my eyes.

  “Engage,” he said.

  He took it at a slowish pace, but I was glad. There was much adjusting to be done when the Master’s moves were added. When our beams engaged and his force repelled mine so perfectly, I found again I could use the energy in the next motion, so it was less work and I had to diminish my effort to keep proper balance. It didn’t take long to make the correction, so only the first minute of the drill was a bit rough.

  The coup de gras of Celanarian’s was in the closing moves, when the Padawan took a full arm right swing at the Master’s head while he ducked, then the Padawan switched momentum and took a full arm left slice at the Master’s calves while he jumped. It was still a training drill, that was why the blows were directed at the Master, who would most certainly have the skill to avoid injury, assuming the Padawan was at the level required to attempt Celanarian’s. Secretly, though, I wondered if Master Wed’azon’s constant delaying of meeting me for practice wasn’t in part due to some fear of these final moves.

  As we passed through the moves of the middle portion of the drill, I pushed all thoughts from my mind about the denouement. I had practiced it 500 times, there was no contact involved to throw me off, and I had always envisioned the drill against Master Wed’azon who was of similar height to Brenan. One move at a time, and the best I could do at each, that was how I proceeded.

  And as difficult as the last stretch of Celanarian’s was, I felt no worry. It was almost as if each time my beam connected with Brenan’s, meeting in the perfectly planned spot in mid-air, my confidence increased. I thrusted, I spun, I swung the lightsaber in an even arc to meet the swing of his in perfectly balanced force. Before I knew it the moment was upon us.

  He ducked and I cleared his golden head by an easy ten inches. I switched momentum effortlessly, the beam over my head and then down, and it whisked under his boots and back up. I spun with the inertia and came back to connect with his raised beam, which stopped me motionless.

  We stood still, me breathing hard, staring at each other. Brenan broke into a broad grin, then started to laugh. I joined him, my laughter ragged as I tried to catch my breath. “I didn’t…kill you!” I exclaimed.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he replied brightly.

  “Oh by all the gods, that was incredible!”

  “Backwards it will be even more impressive.”

  I looked at him quizzically.

  “I’m kidding!” he cried. “Celanarian would come back and haunt us if we abused his drill like that. Him and that freakish braided beard of his.”

  At this I burst out laughing again. The energy of the drill—the grace of Brenan’s execution—had permeated me head to toe. I wanted to dance, to sing, I put out my arms and suddenly we were embracing, he wa
s laughing at my laughter and I felt it all over, both physically and in that other, strange way.

  Holding me by the shoulders, he pushed me out to arm’s length and said, “Give me five days, I’ll have you at least three-quarters faster.” Then he added mischievously, “And I dare say your lightsaber Master couldn’t match a faster tempo anyway.”

  I gave him a cheerful and conspiratorial nod. “No possible way.” I burst into a fit of giggling.

  “You are in a wild mood now, aren’t you?” he said with a smile.

  “I’m prone to wild moods, sir,” I said, stifling myself a little.

  “A girl after my own heart. Well, it looks like you won’t be able to sleep anytime soon. How about we share an ale or two so you can wind down? I used to frequent Meri-Borx Tavern when I was here, and I’ve heard it’s still open.”

  “It is, but I’ve never been there.”

  “Well, it’s the perfect place to go on a night like this if you are the only woman ever to do Celanarian’s Drill with Auri-Owan. Come with me.”

  So I walked by his side, wondering if he would ever give me a command I wouldn’t want to obey.

  The walk to the Borx was nearly a mile, but I hardly noticed. I was, to put it bluntly, glorying in my triumph. The first woman to do Celanarian’s with Brenan Auri-Owan! It was stunning to contemplate.

  “I can’t get over the way it felt doing the overhead momentum switch at the end,” I told Brenan excitedly as we walked. “Almost effortless. I swear that’s the best I’ve ever done it.”

  “You have my approval. No criticism there.”