21

Crack!

Avner blocked the wide arcing strike from Typho's practice stave and parried with a quick flurry of strikes that drove the Bothan back a few inches. He pressed his advantage, driving his wooden sword into Typho's chest and forcing the Jedi apprentice to his knees, pushing the tip of his practice saber into the Bothan's throat.

"I yield," Typho said, lowering his stave in defeat. Avner offered him a hand up, and Typho shook it firmly when he was back on his feet. "You've come a long way, friend."

"Indeed he has," Master Zhar agreed as he stepped into the ring. "In this past week, your skills as a swordsman have improved greatly. Your progress is amazing – I would daresay your potential to keep growing is unlimited. In all my years, I have never seen one who has mastered the initial training so quickly. You have done in weeks what many cannot do in years."

He felt a swell of praise at Master Zhar's words knowing they were spoken in earnest. The Twi'lek was sparse in his praise and only gave it out when an individual had truly earned it. He bowed in respect to the master. The past few weeks had seen Avner's skill with the blade increase exponentially, as well as his appreciation for the esteemed Battlemaster, who was patient in his training and calm with his instruction. The Jedi was a great warrior, and to personally learn from him meant a great deal to the Kiffar.

"All thanks to your training and instruction."

The Battlemaster smiled and then nodded. "We have reached an end to your training for the time being, Sergeant. Now, you must put what you have learned to the test. If you prove yourself worthy, then you may be allowed to join our Order as a Padawan."

"Padawan?"

"An apprentice Jedi, the lowest rank within our Order."

"I'm ready for whatever test you have."

"Yes, I'm sure you are." The Twi'lek regarded him briefly, then motioned for him to follow. "Walk with me, Sergeant."

Avner followed the other man from the training hall and into the bright sun of the early afternoon. They walked amongst the many other beings traveling the worn pathways of the Enclave, Master Zhar smiling each time a person would bow to him or offer a greeting. They soon found themselves outside the Enclave's grounds and among the rolling plains covering Dantooine's surface.

"What are we doing out here, Master Zhar?"

"Just enjoying a simple walk."

He glanced over at the Jedi Master curiously. "Alright, why?"

"Sometimes it is good to just take a second to slow down. Leave responsibility and worry behind for a few moments and focus on nothing at all."

"I don't exactly have the time-." Master Zhar gave him a sidelong look, and Avner immediately quieted. He had said something wrong, misstepped somehow in the venerable master's eyes.

Master Zhar paused and turned to fully face him. "Patience is a key tenant within our Order, Sergeant. Yes, you have great power and potential, but if you do not temper it with patience, then you will grow arrogant of your own abilities and fall to the Dark Side like so many others."

"Like Revan and Malak?"

A pained look flashed over Lestin's face before he schooled his expression neutral again. "Yes, like those two…"

"Who were they? No one ever speaks about them, but I was told they were once Jedi."

"A long time ago they were." He looked out towards the horizon briefly before continuing. "Few mention those names around here anymore… but I suppose it is just as dangerous to deny they were ever part of the Order. Years ago, I was the head instructor of the Coruscant Temple. Revan and Malak often came to me for additional training, Revan in particular. His hunger for learning was insatiable, unmatched only by his burgeoning power. So I trained him, taught him everything I knew, but it was never enough. Had I been more observant, I would have recognized this as a warning sign."

"Surely a willingness to learn is not bad?"

"A willingness, no, but remember what I said before about how great power not tempered leads to pride? That is what happened to Revan. His power was great, and he wanted mastery of it immediately instead of patiently learning the extent of his abilities in time. True mastery does not come from learning everything all at once but rather from carefully understanding each facet with time. But I was blinded by his potential and excused his lust for knowledge as simple youthful exuberance. He was my most promising pupil, one I felt sure would someday become a champion of the Jedi Order," Master Zhar explained.

"What happened? How did they end up how they are now?"

The Battlemaster shook his head, a small, sad smile twisting his lips up briefly. "The Jedi Order moved too slowly for Revan and Malak; we were too cautious in their eyes. They always sought to learn far quicker than their masters felt was prudent. As I said before, understanding a lesson is one thing, but truly comprehending it takes wisdom that only comes with time." He gave the Kiffar a pointed look before continuing. "Then the Mandalorian Wars happened. When they first threatened the galaxy, Revan and Malak were keen to join in the defense of the Outer Rim and protect the Republic, but the Council felt it best if we moved with care and caution."

"Why?" Avner interrupted. "People were dying; they needed help. Isn't it a Jedi's responsibility to protect those who can't defend themselves?"

"It is," Master Zhar conceded. "But the Council believed the true threat had not yet revealed itself. We wished to wait to see if we could draw out the dark master behind this war, but Revan would not be dissuaded. He was charismatic and powerful; it was inevitable many of the Order would flock to Revan's seemingly noble cause. Malak was the first to join his close friend, and others soon followed. They were our best and brightest, fully intent on saving the galaxy from the Mandalorian threat."

"What happened to them?"

"No one knows… after Revan defeated Mandalore the Ultimate, he and his friend Malak vanished into the Unknown Regions. When they resurfaced, they brought with them wild tales of an empire of Sith hidden away in Wild Space; they had barely escaped from captivity… we investigated their claims but found no credence to any of them. The war had driven them mad, and they turned on the very people they had once sworn to protect. Their ideals became twisted, their spirits were tainted, and they fell to the Dark Side." Master Zhar looked forlornly to the horizon and nodded. "There is a lesson to learn from all this: the Dark Side can corrupt anyone; even the noblest can fall."

He said nothing, instead opting to remain silent for the rest of their walk. Master Zhar led him back around the west side of the Enclave and into one of the smaller sanctuaries, where Master Vandar waited by himself. The two masters exchanged a brief bow and knowing look before Master Vandar turned to address him.

"I have heard about your progress from the other Masters and Master Zhar, and I think it is time for you to construct your own lightsaber," Master Vandar revealed.

Avner felt a thrill run through him at the thought of wielding such a powerful weapon. He nodded once to Tokare and straightened his already erect posture further.

Master Zhar pulled his saber hilt free and ignited the blade, a shimmering blue, the energy undulating like the waves in the ocean. "It is a weapon with no equal, the ultimate symbol of our Order meant only to be used in the defense of others. You do not raise it to attack but to protect. It is not something that brings you strength but rather humility because you have the honor to carry one. Understand?"

He inclined his head once, his tongue failing to conjure any words.

"Then follow us."

They led him far away from the Enclave and deep into the rolling hillsides of Dantooine. The buzz of the temple faded away and was replaced by the quiet hum of nature. They arrived at an ancient cave entrance, unremarkable and something any being unfamiliar with its existence would easily pass by. The opening to the cave was small and covered by scrubby brush and a thicket of thorns. The surrounding vegetation kept the cavern well hidden and most likely warded off any animals looking to make their home here.

"This is a kyber cave. The crystals within will power a lightsaber," Master Zhar explained.

"Find a crystal, make my saber. Seems simple enough."

Master Zhar chuckled and shook his head. "Not just any crystal will do, Sergeant. You must find the one meant for you, attuned to your spirit, or it will not work."

He stared back at the Twi'lek incredulously. "You want me to connect… with a rock?"

"It may sound unreasonable, Avner, but keep an open mind and stretch out with your feelings. A kyber crystal is much more than just what its name implies; it is a nexus of power within the Force channeling energy beyond your imagination," Master Vandar said, then gestured towards the cave. "Be one with the Force; only then will you find what you seek."

He didn't look back as he entered the cave, sliding down the embankment and further into the cavern. The air was cool, tiny droplets of condensation falling on his head and shoulders as he squeezed between the tight slabs of rock and navigated narrow ledges traveling deeper into the grotto. He shined his maglight all around, hoping to catch a glimpse of something reflective or anything that might resemble a crystal. Gray rock was all that surrounded him, and the deeper he went, it was all he seemed to find. He stretched out with his senses, allowing the Force to guide him through the treacherous terrain, trying in vain to latch onto anything. It was all dead, like the stone that surrounded him.

He leaped over a gaping chasm and dug his fingers into the grooved rock on the other side, muscles straining as he edged himself over the precipice and onto a solid ledge a few meters away. He dropped to his feet, found a seat nearby, and pulled free a cig. He inhaled several long breaths before letting the thick smoke escape through his nose. He was walking in circles here. Nothing in this cave called to him, nor had he seen anything that even resembled a crystal. Perhaps Master Zhar and Vandar had been wrong; maybe he wasn't ready for a saber.

'Or maybe they're just playing another trick on you.' It was soft and insidious, but the thought slithered into his brain all the same. Another trick, another test for him to fail, another reason for them to throw him away the first chance they got. There were no crystals here; there was nothing here. The familiar sickly hot bubble of anger began to simmer low in his gut, and he was tempted to stew in it, but instead, he latched on. He flicked his smoldering cig away and pushed deeper into the dark cavern. His fingers were split open now, hands scratched bloody from the hours of climbing he had done, but he only let the pain drive him forward. He would find his crystal! It had to be here!

But it wasn't…

He dropped to his knees, his anger at his own weakness coalescing around his heart and squeezing tight. He was lost… alone… drowning in emotions, he swore he had put to rest. How easily he was spurned to rage, had he no patience?

Patience…

'Great power and potential must be tempered by patience, lest one grows arrogant. True wisdom comes with time.'

"It's not here," Avner murmured to himself. He let his disappointment and anger slip away. His crystal wasn't here, it never was, but perhaps it was somewhere else just waiting for him to discover it. In time he would find it, but it would not be here in this dark cave.

So he began his slow ascent back to the surface, using the time to recenter his being. He didn't banish his negative emotions but rather pulled them in, binding them together and resealing them inside the box from where they had escaped. His anger would always be a part of him, an intrinsic piece of his being, but it didn't have to be his driving force. He would learn to control it; it would not control him. His emergence from the dark almost felt akin to a rebirth of sorts. It seemed the longer he spent on Dantooine, the more he seemed to grow.

"You have returned," Master Zhar began but frowned when he noticed the Kiffar's hands. "But empty-handed."

"I did not find my crystal. It's not in the cave." He didn't feel shame to admit this, but there was a flash of disappointment before he pushed it aside and offered both men an easy grin. "But I will find it when the time is right."

Master Vandar nodded. "You may not have found your kyber crystal, but perhaps you've discovered something far greater."

Avner shrugged. "Something like that."

"Still, you did not complete the test…" Master Zhar crossed his arms over his chest.

"I know my crystal is out there. It's not in that cave."

The Twi'lek opened his mouth to rebuke him, but Master Vandar held up his hand. "Perhaps he is right, Lestin. Maybe that was the test the Force wished for him to pass, a test of patience." He reaches into his robes and withdraws a jagged crystal, holding it out.

Master Zhar's eyes widened in shock. "Vandar… how – how did you..?"

"Try this one, Avner." He took the crystal, and it slid into his palm as if it was always meant to be there. Its edges were ragged, the hue dark and reflecting little light. It thrummed with untapped power, the energy nearly syncing with his own heartbeat. This… this was what he was meant to find. It felt so familiar, like he had held it before.

"I – I don't know what to say."

"Master Vandar, is this wise?"

"It is his crystal, Master Zhar. Who are we to withhold it from him?" Master Vandar assured the other man. "Now, come. It is time to construct your saber."

Master Zhar and Vandar led him back to the Enclave, where they supplied him with the parts he would need to construct his own saber: several focusing lenses, an emitter, a pommel cap, and scant instructions on how he was supposed to put it all together. He had sat for the better part of three hours now, hunched over the workbench in the Hawk's cargo hold, meticulously putting every piece together with the utmost care. But the damn thing wouldn't turn on. This would be his fourth time disassembling the blasted thing! Maybe this time… he pressed the activation switch, but a jolt of electricity just shocked the hilt from his hands. He cursed and threw the wrench in his hands at the wall opposite him. It clanged loudly, the sound reverberating around in his head. Kriff! What was he missing?

"Having trouble?"

He turned in his chair to find Bastila standing in the hatchway, clasping two mugs in her hands. He almost rubbed his eyes to ensure that the elusive Jedi standing a few meters away was actually real or just a figment of his tired mind. She approached slowly, placing one of the steaming cups down in front of him before leaning back against the workbench to eye his work.

"Don't you have some youngling to beat into the ground," he grumbled, returning to breaking down the saber before him. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with her vastly shifting attitude when it came to him. He had bigger problems to sort through, like getting this damn glowstick to work. Perhaps if he flipped the emitter and rewired some of the powercells, that might fix his overheating issue.

To her credit, she ducked her head in embarrassment and shook her head. "I'm sorry if I was a bit… overzealous with training. It's just you remind-."

"You of someone," He finished while he pulled a powercell free.

"You do," she conceded. "But that doesn't excuse my behavior. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you."

It was genuine and said softly, which immediately made all of his ire melt away. He turned to face her again, but her attention was solely focused on the mug clasped firmly in her hands. She was making an effort, trying to atone for the hostility and silence she had been subjecting him to ever since they had met in her own stunted way. Who was he to hold a grudge?

"Don't worry about it, Shan."

"No, I-."

"It's water under the bridge."

She screwed up her nose like she was preparing to fight back but stopped when she caught sight of his crooked grin. She let out a sigh and shook her head. "I suppose arguing would defeat the purpose of my apology."

"It might." He was silent for a few seconds, unsure of how to continue. He wanted to resume fiddling with the parts laid out in front of him. He had always found more comfort in machines than people. Machines couldn't judge you; their feelings on everything were straightforward and clear. There was no deciphering hidden meanings behind words or wondering if they had ulterior motives. That could all be programmed out. Still… Bastila deserved more than just his stilted words. "While we're on the subject of apologies, I guess I owe you one too."

She quirked a brow up at him in question.

"I wasn't always the easiest person to travel with, and I know I pushed you on more than one occasion… heh, I never even thanked you for saving my skin back on Yavin IV."

She gave him a small, guarded smile but shrugged. "How did you put it? Water under the bridge"

"Humility looks good on you, Shan." He couldn't help but tease her, and she rolled her eyes playfully at his jest. "So, why the sudden apologies and peace offerings?" He took a quick swig of the drink Bastila had brought him and promptly spit it out. It was incredibly bitter, like every acrid herb and root had been ground down and liquified into a pulp. His look of disgust caused Bastila to giggle, and he felt warmth rush through his chest at the sound.

"Oh please, Marek, do control yourself. It's only Deychin tea."

"This isn't drinkable." Avner disagreed and pushed the mug away.

"I'm sure you've drunk much worse while in the Army," Bastila quipped back while she sipped hers with care.

He considered this for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I've never drank something that's the equivalent of licking the underside of a leafcutter."

"It can't really be all that bad. Perhaps if you gave it another go?" She pouted, and Avner found any semblance of resistance fast crumbling away as he begrudgingly took another drink. It tasted even worse the second time, but Bastila beamed at him when he finished half his mug. It scared him how easily this girl could twist him around. No one else had ever been able to do that.

"It still tastes like shavit," he grumbled, unwilling to let her fully win.

She laughed again. "It's an acquired taste."

He waved his finger at her in mock discipline. "And here I thought lying was against the Jedi Code."

She leaned in closer, and the intoxicating scent of fresh rain over windswept fields with hints of sweet herb washed over him. A scent all uniquely Bastila, and it set his nerves ablaze. "I never lie, Avner."

Whatever was playing out between them ended when she pulled back and took another sip, smiling victoriously down at him. He shook his head and returned to his work. She watched him quietly for the next few minutes as he screwed the saber back together, trying and failing to ignite it for the fifth time.

"You know you never answered my question."

She blinked in surprise. "Which one?"

He glanced over at her once before continuing with his work. "Why the apology? Why now when you've been dodging me for weeks?"

She looked away and nervously tapped her fingers against the mug's ceramic sides. "I suppose I wanted to clear the air between us before we parted ways. I hate leaving on bad terms with someone, especially when I know the problem is fixable."

"Leaving? You going somewhere?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'll soon depart to continue my hunt for Darth Malak."

"You think that's wise? You nearly got captured the last time you went looking for that Sith."

"I have no choice. Someone has to stop him before he can hurt anyone else."

"And that someone has to be you?"

"Yes! I am the best equipped to deal with him. I have to do this!"

"Maybe you don't! Maybe there's someone else who can stop him!" Avner shot back. He was not angry; no, it was concern that was driving his heated words. He was worried that this girl was taking on more than she could handle. She was already shouldering an impossible burden by singlehandedly holding back the Sith; how much more could she take before she broke?

"Oh really, who? You?" It's a challenge.

"Maybe! I would do it if it meant keeping you safe!" And he fell for it.

Hook.

Line.

And sinker.

Fuck, he hadn't meant to let that slip, so he tried to backpedal. "If it means keeping everyone safe."

And she let him have it. "Of course."

They were quiet for the next few minutes, Avner throwing everything into rebuilding his saber while Bastila suddenly found the ceiling extremely interesting. He pushed down the roiling feelings twisting around in his gut, trying in vain to secure his crystal between the focusing lenses and the emitter before hitting the switch. The hilt sparked again and sent a sharp jolt ripping through his hands. His muscles spasmed in pain, and he dropped the saber, shaking his wounded appendages in a futile attempt to stem the ache.

"Avner, your hands." Bastila caught one in her small palms, turning it over and examining the numerous cuts, scrapes, and now burns that dotted his skin. "What have you been doing?"

"Oh, you know, a little bit of everything: cave exploration, rock climbing, and some saber assembly." He nodded ruefully down at the parts spread out around him, and she only shook her head. She took the other one in hers and cradled them both close to her body. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh."

A warmth spread out from her palms and engulfed his larger hands soothing away any ache or hurt. The sensation made him want to close his eyes and drift off, but he fought against it, instead focusing closely on the Jedi's face. Her eyes were closed, lips pressed together into a firm line, but her features were utterly relaxed like what she was doing she had done a hundred times before. A few untamed brunette locks fell across her face, and he was tempted to brush them away but found himself unable to move. He was enthralled by whatever spell Bastila was casting on him, but it shattered the second she pulled away. He blinked once, bringing himself back to the Hawk, and stared down at his hands. They – they were healed!

"How?" He turned them over, carefully examining the newly mended flesh. Where there were once angry red burns and open lacerations dotting his hands, now only raised pink skin remained.

"The Force," Bastila replied simply. "It does more than just make objects float."

He chuckled at her good-natured jab. "So the Princess does have a sense of humor."

She only rolled her eyes at him. "I am not a princess."

"Sure, Princess," the Kiffar teased while he returned to tinkering.

"You know, the construction of one's lightsaber is as much connected to the Force as my healing is," Bastila said after she watched him pull the entire hilt apart for what seemed like the hundredth time.

He gave her an incredulous look.

"The lightsaber is more than just a weapon, Avner." She pulled her saber free and allowed it to hang in the air between them. "Like the Force, it is a Jedi's greatest ally. You have the crystal to give it life, but you must reach deep within yourself to awaken it."

"I've tried to make it work, but it won't."

"You can't make it work, Avner. You have to feel it; let the Force guide you. In your heart, what do you see your saber as being?" Bastila's saber began to split apart, the disassembled pieces floating around her before they began to fuse themselves back together again. "You must concentrate. What will make you strong in battle and humble in retreat? What connects with you?" Her fully constructed saber landed gently in her outstretched hand. "There are no blueprints for you to follow, Avner, only your heart. Trust in the Force."

"Easier said than done," he murmured back, but he didn't dismiss her words entirely. Maybe coming at this problem with a less clinical approach would help. It wouldn't hurt to at least try. If it failed, then he at least still had plenty of time left to tinker.

"Give it time." She picked up his mug and hers before vanishing through the hatchway and out of sight. He sighed and cracked his knuckles before picking up his tools once again. This time though, he cleared his mind; instead of focusing on the design he had set out to make, he let the Force guide his hands. His vision blurred, and time seemed to bleed away as he moved without volition. Slowly his saber hilt began to take shape. It was an extended hilt with a flat pommel; the entire thing was encased in matte gray metal with a wrapped grip. It was like nothing he could have ever imagined, and suddenly it was whole. He grasped it firmly in both of his hands, a small tremor of excitement slipping down his spine as he rested his thumb on the ignition switch.

This time, it would work.

He flicked the switch, and an amethyst blade of pure energy sparked to life. The ignition of energy from the blade surged through his body. It was as if he could feel the very thrum of power surging through every one of his nerves. Images flashed behind his eyes, purple deflecting red bolts of energy, sparks flying as this blade sank deep into the chest of an armored man, the crack hiss of purple clashing with green and blue and gold over and over and over and over…

He dropped his saber involuntarily, the blade extinguishing immediately, and fell to his knees. The images were still there, seared into his mind, playing endlessly on a loop. He tried in vain to grasp onto them, but they vanished like smoke between his fingers. And so he was left alone in the dark with a weapon that offered more questions than answers.