A/N: Many thanks to Buttercup for her great beta work!
Severing the Past
WendyNat
Chapter 12
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N'oenar stood in a rough-hewn stone corridor, a single flickering torch illuminating the area. Master Dannew stood in front of him, facing the wall, where the carved words of the Jedi Code appeared once more. The first line had almost completely crumbled, only the faintest indentation remaining where letters once cut sharply into the stone.
"Master Dannew?" N'oenar's voice shook, and though he knew it, he could do nothing to stop it. "I'm wrong, aren't I? You don't want me to do… to do that, do you? The dark side, it's… it's against everything…" He trailed off, uncertain how to continue, particularly since the man in front of him hadn't reacted at all to his words.
Master Dannew didn't reply. Instead, he sighed deeply and turned, walking off down the corridor. N'oenar watched him in disbelief for a few moments, and then hurried after him. The corridors changed around them, rough stone turning to smooth marble, and then to the subtly colored walls of the Jedi Temple. They moved faster and faster, floating five steps for each one taken by their feet, and it was so dizzying that N'oenar stopped paying attention to the surroundings and just stared at his Master's back, occupying his mind with contemplation of the mechanics of dream.
They continued like that for a time until Master Dannew stopped suddenly, and it was then that N'oenar dared to look around. They were in the Jedi Temple's Council chamber, but only three seats remained in the chamber. He frowned, a strange sense of foreboding overtaking him as he stared at the missing chairs. Biting his lip, he glanced at Master Dannew and saw the other man nod.
"Three yet live."
N'oenar's breath caught, but he did not dare to ask which three of the Jedi Council still lived. He didn't think he could handle the answer. Outside the window, the darkness roiled, thick and impenetrable, and N'oenar shivered as one tendril separated from the mass and seemed to reach out towards him.
"Master? Was I right? The dark side-"
"To be saved, it must be broken." Master Dannew turned to the window, leaning heavily against the sill, and N'oenar stared at him. He looked old. Worn. "Remember your teachings, but do not fall into the trap that some have, for denial of something evil or wrong can be just as limiting as full belief in it. Ice will give way before flame; it is what must be, to save that which is most precious."
He shook his head, taking a step back, and then another, until he backed into the side of one of the three remaining chairs. Reaching out a hand, he steadied himself, and tried not to wonder which Master had once sat in that chair. Or which Knight…
"I… I can't."
"You can."
"I won't."
"You will. You must." Master Dannew turned and stared at him, an unending sadness in those familiar eyes. "Lead the bantha, but take care. Do not blaze; it can be done, N'oenar. Remember Vaapad. It must be done."
"Why… how could it help, for me to do this? To use the dark side? How could it help? Everything I've learned-"
But Master Dannew was fading already, his voice but an echo in the darkening chamber. "Follow your final orders, Padawan. Hide. Live."
N'oenar opened his eyes and breathed deeply, staring into the darkness, watching the muted flashes of lightning that shone through a slit in the window coverings. It was hard to imagine… Master Dannew did mean him to use the dark side. He did, or the Force did. But was the Force's will one entity, or did each side – dark and light - have its own will? And, if the latter was the case, then which side was speaking to him in dreams?
Sighing, he turned over and stared at the wall, counting the lightning flashes until sleep took him again.
The next morning, he woke well after the sun rose. Its rays brightened the opposite wall, and he squinted as he sat up, trying to get his bearings. It was a challenge for him, even after weeks of the experience, to become used to sleeping in different places; the Jedi Temple had housed his bed for too many years to count. At the thought, a sudden image of three council chairs sprang to his mind, but he pushed it back even as the memory of a dark tendril reaching for him overtook the vision. Darkness seeking him out?
Rubbing his face, he picked up his clothes and splashed some water on his face in the small refresher that he and Ayliana shared. He was glad she was out of the room already – she had tried to get him to speak the night before, but he refused. After a few aborted attempts, she had given him some peace – and ordered him to sleep, which he did.
After finishing in the refresher, he took a deep breath and walked out into the sitting area. Ayliana was alone, watching something on a small holonet projector. When he entered the room, she turned it off immediately.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine."
She eyed him skeptically and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when Kerenne appeared in the entranceway. For once, he was glad of their mutual tension. Anything to keep Ayliana from questioning him further; the temptation to tell her was strong, but he knew he couldn't. He was certain of that. He just wasn't certain if it was because she would dismiss the idea, or because she might take it seriously.
They left early that day, and on the street and in the shops, he found plenty to distract him from his dark thoughts: intriguing items, compelling personalities, strange beings shouting at each other in their own guttural language. Some of the distractions, however, he could do without.
As they searched, he and Ayliana kept their senses raw and open, hoping to hear or see or sense something from any corner that would give them a clue, or a hope. They scoured alleyways and the main street, small back areas and shops, merchants and crowds, but they sensed nothing.
Nothing, that is, until later that evening when they sat to eat a quick meal. They normally returned to the inn to eat in their rooms, but they were low on provisions and so decided to stop at a small café. One far from the large crowd gathered in front of another impromptu stage. There were still plenty of beings about, but the crowds were nowhere near as thick here as on the main street, and N'oenar felt himself begin to relax. Dusk was falling, and the air was pleasantly warm. He'd heard a number of beings speak of rain expected the next day, but that evening it was perfect.
As they sat, chatting after finishing their meal, Ayliana's head suddenly snapped up and she met N'oenar's gaze.
"I felt it, too."
"What? What did you-"
"No, not that. Someone searching. Someone else searching." Ayliana frowned, a crease forming between her brows as she concentrated. "It's gone already."
"I can't feel it anymore, either. It was just a flash."
"A flash." Kerenne and Zehrid shared a look, then Zehrid threw some credits down on the table for the server and stood. "Come on. Let's follow your flash." As they left the table, Zehrid snaked out a hand and grabbed a couple of the sweetcakes, winking at Kerenne when she smirked at him. N'oenar shook his head. The man ate more than anyone else he'd ever met.
N'oenar followed the others, falling behind slightly as his senses began to prickle with the feeling of being followed. He considered calling out to Ayliana, but the feeling was so vague he couldn't even pinpoint the direction, and she needed all of her concentration to recall the direction of that last spark. That elusive searching.
As he walked, flashes near the ground caught his eye. Small clumps of crystalline rock lay scattered in the path, perhaps blown there during one of the storms that he'd heard mentioned. Blue and red, glittering even in the low light, sometimes a group of crystals appearing purple with the mixture of colors.
Suddenly, a feeling of danger spiked in his throat and he lifted his head just as a cloaked figure reached up and grabbed Zehrid's pack. The tall man shouted, twisting around as far as he could with his arms still tangled in the straps of his pack, and sent a brutal kick at the figure. A low grunt, and then the shine of metal appeared in the attacker's hand.
A blade.
Hand on his saber, N'oenar leaped forward, but before he could even take two steps, Kerenne had bent down and picked up a rock, whipping her hand around and hitting the thief hard on the temple. It was a solid hit, and before N'oenar could take his third step, the man had crumpled, striking his head again against the rough pavement.
N'oenar winced at the sound.
Cursing, Zehrid checked his pack and then pulled it back on, glaring down at the street thief as other beings on the street gasped and muttered amongst themselves. "Can't go anywhere, nowadays."
"Guess you looked like easy prey," Kerenne said, grinning at her brother even as she bent down to snatch up the knife that lay on the pavement. He wondered, as she did so, why she had opted for the rock rather than her own knife, but this wasn't the place to ask.
"Oh, quiet, you." Zehrid glanced around at the small crowd that had gathered and raised his voice. "Everything's fine. I've got my pack, and he's still breathing." N'oenar knew he couldn't have been the only one to hear the regret in Zehrid's voice at that fact.
"We'd better get back to the inn, I think," Ayliana said in a low voice, glancing down at the thief. "I don't feel anything else, and for all we know it was the thief I sensed."
N'oenar nodded slowly. "It was a searching feeling…"
"Exactly."
Kerenne and Zehrid looked at each other, then Zehrid nodded. "All right. Let's go." Hefting his assaulted pack, he led the way back to the inn.
Once there, Zehrid and Ayliana immediately entered into a game of holochess. Zehrid had found a secondhand version of the game and bought it on sight. One of the chess pieces flickered off and on, which probably explained the low price, but Zehrid proclaimed it to be completely serviceable.
In unspoken agreement, Kerenne and N'oenar went out to the lake to watch the lightning show. As he sat and stared at the streaks of jagged colors above, his mind began to head back to the dream he'd had the evening before, and the questions that threatened to drive him insane.
"An interesting outing, today," Kerenne remarked.
"Interesting? That's one way to put it. You were quick with that rock." N'oenar frowned at the water. Lead the bantha… "I was surprised you didn't go for your knife-"
She shook her head. "Too many witnesses for that. I don't fancy sitting in whatever serves as a jail on this planet, if I'd killed him."
"Yeah, I suppose murder is one of those 'extreme crimes' that was on that regulations list." He scratched his chin, then realized what he was doing and stopped. "I never would have thought to use a stone, though, when I had other weapons available."
"Anything is a weapon in the right hands. You could kill me with your fingers and your will, if you really wanted, couldn't you? That Force choking thing?"
He felt a chill creep down his spine and raised his head to stare at her. "That's… that pulls on the dark side." How could she know about that?
"I know." She must have seen his confusion, because she smirked. "I've heard the stories, too."
"Oh." Stories?
"But, yeah. You use whatever you can, if you want to hurt someone enough."
He sighed, tossing a small stone into the water. It landed with a plop and quickly sunk under the surface. "Maybe that's my problem," he said, half to himself. "I don't want to hurt anyone enough."
She shrugged. "It's not a problem. You become the weapon, if the need is there."
"What do you mean?" He knew his voice sounded urgent, but he couldn't help it - he needed to know, particularly after his dreams from the night before. Knowledge could come from any corner, as Master Dannew had said time and again during their studies, during his training.
With a serious look, she pulled out the long knife from her thigh sheathe and hefted it, twisting the blade to catch the light from the moons. "This knife, its blade is sharp. If I'm not careful, when I sheathe it I could slice right through my leg. So I'm always careful, because it doesn't care. It's saved my life, and the lives of those I care about, but it has no soul, no thought, no conscience. It would kill me as soon as it'd kill anyone else."
He frowned. "But-"
"I become the knife," she said simply. N'oenar stared at the blade, the glow from the moons reflected in its flat side, glinting off the sharp edge. Her hand, smooth and soft, looked odd against its deadly menace. Out of place, and yet… natural. Perhaps sensing his confusion, she continued, "If I need to kill, I have to become the knife, become the tool. That's how I do it, when I don't care enough to want."
He remembered, again, the casualness with which she killed, and before he could stop the words they sprung out. "Do you ever care?"
She stared at the blade for a moment, then lowered it and sighed. "Sometimes. Not often."
"No regrets?"
"Never."
"When Sneelis attacked me…"
"I cared." He shot her a look, but her face was turned away. She continued, "I didn't know you, but I knew you were a Jedi. After what had happened in the temple…"
N'oenar rubbed his neck for a moment. "I remember. You said, after you killed him, 'We've lost enough of you already.'"
Kerenne remained silent for a time, twirling the blade in her hand. "You do have a good memory, don't you?"
"Most of the time."
She switched the hilt of the knife from her one hand to the other without hesitation or loss of agility, and he wished for a moment that he was able to do the same. He'd always been quite strongly right-handed; though he'd trained to use both when wielding a lightsaber, it was easily apparent to anyone watching that he favored his right. Glancing at him for a moment, she asked, "When don't you?"
"When I'm very angry… or upset. Strong emotion clouds it sometimes," he murmured, staring at the glint of her knife. He only hoped that she didn’t question him further. There is no emotion; there is peace. "Emotion. It clouds memory, judgment…"
"Clouds it?"
"Yes."
"Well," Kerenne said, studying the knife's edge. "Maybe the Force is trying to tell you something."
"What?"
"That sometimes emotion is more important than your clear judgment." She lifted her head and looked at him, and he was struck again by the light playing across her face. The knife still sat in her hand, its blade and her eyes reflecting spots of light, flashes from the lightning. The rest of her face sat in shadow, and the contrast was striking.
Light and shadow. Emotion and passion. He nodded slowly, looking out at the water. Perhaps it was the will of the Force, bringing her to speak of these things to him, or perhaps it was simple coincidence. Either way, the thought had merit, though it went against all the teachings of the Jedi. But, so did everything he'd been told in the Force dreams. He had the sudden vision of his world shifting under him, and now he no longer knew where to place each foot as he struggled to move forward. It was an unsettling image, but it fit. It fit all too well.
Letting out a long breath, he looked over at Kerenne. She was still watching him, and he froze, an odd feeling threading through his stomach as their eyes locked. He wondered what she was thinking, what she saw when she looked at him, what she-
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
N'oenar jumped when he heard Ayliana's voice, and then flushed when Kerenne's mouth twisted in a small smile. Then she turned her attention on Ayliana and the smile faded. "No," she said, glancing back at N'oenar once more before standing and sheathing her knife. The scraping noise as the blade slid home made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "I was just heading inside, actually."
"Oh. Well, don't let me keep you."
N'oenar winced inwardly. Over the last couple of days, the animosity between the two had continued to increase and, while it was still subtle, it was apparent enough to anyone that knew the two women well. With a sigh, he stood. "Good night, Kerenne."
She nodded once in his direction, then turned on her heel and walked back into the inn. He watched her go, eyes following her steps, and he didn't turn to Ayliana until she had disappeared. When he did, he saw a troubled look on his fellow Padawan's face.
"Are you all right, Ayliana?"
She blinked and nodded. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. I ought to be asking you-"
"I'm fine."
"Good."
They stood in silence for a moment, then N'oenar cleared his throat. "Well, I'm going to go to bed, I guess."
"Wait, N'oenar…"
"What?"
She stared at him, biting her lip, and then finally shook her head and smiled slightly. "Nothing. Just… good night."
"Thanks. You, too." Turning, he left Ayliana by the glittering waters of the lake and went back to their room.
A short time later, he was settled in his bed, eyes firmly closed. Sleep would come, and perhaps dreams, but for once he didn't dread the thought of the dream. There were questions he had, questions he wanted answers to, and he could think of nowhere else to ask them but in his dreams.
Guided by his will, sleep came swiftly.
He stood before Master Dannew in one of the Jedi Temple's dueling rooms. He had spent many hours in these rooms during his years as a Padawan, and as a youngling in the temple, but he allowed himself to be distracted only for a moment before stepping forward.
"She said – the old woman – that intent was the key. 'The great key, the intentions of the wielder – anything is a weapon.' Those were her words. Is that what you want me to do? How can I-"
Master Dannew raised a hand, and N'oenar fell silent, his training too ingrained in him to ignore the command. Without speaking, his master pulled out a lightsaber and held it in front of him, turning the handle in the light. Then, abruptly, he handed it to N'oenar. "That saber. Is it a tool for defense, or a weapon for attack?"
Without thought, he began, "It's a tool for-" He stopped. Swallowed. Remembered the shine of Anakin Skywalker's blue blade as it cut through Padawan and Youngling and Master. "It… it depends on how it's used."
"Correct."
"So, the dark side-"
"The bantha you must lead is not so simple as that lightsaber. The saber doesn't encourage; it has no will. Smolder, do not blaze, and the heat should be a healing rather than an injury. A protection."
"But, to use it for my purpose-"
"Remember the bantha. You will have to follow it to a point, but remember yourself. The Keeper of the Faith will aid you. Remember yourself, and guide it in the direction you wish to go. Carefully, cautiously, you must lead this bantha, or much worse will happen than your shoulders being pulled from their sockets. Much worse." His master began to fade, the room began to fade, but N'oenar called out one more desperate query.
"But I don't know what direction to lead it; what should I-"
A whisper of an echo answered him.
"It will be made clear, in time."
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By mid afternoon the next day, the rain was heavy enough to force them back to the inn, and while Zehrid went for more provisions, the other three settled in the sitting area. Not in the mood for conversation, N'oenar grabbed a datapad to ostensibly do some reading while Ayliana and Kerenne played one of the table games that Zehrid had acquired.
He stared blankly at the screen, hitting the scroll button on occasion, but his mind was filled with the memory of his dream from the night before. He had gone about the normal motions all day, trying to put his conversation with Master Dannew out of his head. It wasn't as simple, now, with less distraction to take his attention away, but he tried. Unfortunately, he wasn't very successful.
The dark side. A weapon… intent was the key. He wasn't sure what was shocking him the most, now – that the Force willed him to do this, or that he was actually considering it. As he sat thinking, he heard Ayliana once again start on the subject of their search.
"We could have easily gone to Roon first and then searched for your brothers-"
"There isn't time – my brothers can fly somewhere, your Roon can't!"
"They could already be gone-"
With a sigh, N'oenar shook his head. They'd gone over this before, many times before, and he didn't see the value of rehashing it once again. Particularly when his mind was occupied with other thoughts, other questions.
How could it be possible?
Master Dannew wanted him to use the dark side. But to do what? To hide? To protect that which is most precious? What was this most precious thing that the Force was hinting at? So distracted by his thoughts, he didn't notice when the women's casual tones turned more serious. He looked up with a frown and was surprised to see Ayliana scowling, hands splayed flat on the table as she glared at Kerenne.
"How long will we continue this pointless search?"
"Pointless?" Kerenne raised her head to look at Ayliana, ice covering her features.
"It's almost impossible, Kerenne!" With an obvious effort, Ayliana brought herself under control, matching Kerenne's icy stare. "This could take a very long time."
"Then we'll look for a very long time."
"And what if we take too long, and we walk into the archive library on Roon and it's already covered in clone troopers?"
"Then I'll collect the bounty for two Jedi." Kerenne's lips twisted and she flicked her gaze in N'oenar's direction. "Or one, at least."
Ayliana stared at her for a moment, then slowly shook her head. "You know, I almost believe you'd do it."
"You'd almost be right."
N'oenar sat forward and opened his mouth, ready to interject, but a low tone from the main door interrupted him. He sighed in relief – Zehrid had never had better timing, though he wondered how much the man had purchased if he was unable to free a hand to activate the door switch. "I'll get it." Standing, he walked to the door and opened it. And stared.
It wasn't Zehrid.
The shopkeeper from the oddities shop stood before him, taller and wider than he'd looked in the store, possibly because he was standing within three handspans of N'oenar. Ignoring N'oenar, the man looked over his shoulder and spoke to the two women. "I'm sorry, we didn't know-"
N'oenar glanced behind him and noted Ayliana's hand on the hilt of her saber.
"Didn’t know what?" Kerenne's voice was casual, but the way her fingers rested on the hilt of her throwing knife told a different story. N'oenar moved back slightly; she'd never missed before, but he didn't want to take the chance.
"We didn't know they were your brothers."