Arc 2 Chapter 5

“I. . . I expected more,” Anaïs commented, as they walked out of the Bhoyarian spaceport, which, while clean, was very. . . normal. Anaïs hadn’t been in that many spaceports, as Lucian preferring to land in the middle of nowhere with his invisible ship and sneak in, pretending they’d been there the entire time. When they’d first arrived, at the edge of the Bhoyaria system, he’d kept the cloak off and they’d casually approached the planet, going though all the proper procedures of asking for clearance, moving on a pre-approved path, landing in a hanger, and even paying the docking fees.

It was the first time they’d ever done so.

Now, they each carried a bag with a change of clothing and basic supplies as they walked out into the city streets of Pelkram, the capital city, as speeders flew overhead, unhurried. The people, mostly humans, went about their business, though many different aliens could be seen as well. The locals were darker of skin, more than tanning would account for, a bit like Master Windu, though Master Windu himself came from the planet Haruun Kal.

Were she Force-blind, as her master referred to those who could not feel the Force around them, it would seem to be a normal place. Maybe a little more pleasant? The air was clear, despite being in the middle of a city, the temperature a little warm, but comfortable, and the press of people, while ever-present, never reached the uncomfortable point of being awash in a sea of humanity, like one often felt on Coruscant, away from the Temple. To most, it would be nice, but that was all.

But to her?

To her, the world hummed with life, with vitality, with the Force.

It was almost intoxicating, as it thrummed through the ground, the people, the very air itself, all was thick with the Force, however, she hadn’t been able to sense it, as ever-present as it was, until, after they’d landed, Master Lucian had guided her in meditation to truly see the world’s character in the Force, which had, until that point remained hidden. Without doing so, she, like she was sure many Jedi before her, would have seen nothing special about it, but using the same techniques she’d used to not only ignore, but to actively deny the pressure the Dark put upon someone, she understood.

That had worried her at first, as an entire planet aligned with the Dark, however subtly, was not something she was ready for, but as he often did, Lucian had just laughed, and told her that just because a technique had one use, that did not mean it was its only use.

“The Temple way of understanding the Force is to diffuse yourself into it, making yourself part of it, but just as a fish doesn’t understand water, or tides, doing things that way makes it much harder to sense anomalies in the Force unless their disturbances are particularly violent. It makes reading ‘the Will of the Force’ easier, but removes the ability to understand why you are doing whatever it is that you are doing. If you have complete belief in the infallibility of the ‘Will’, then you do not need to know, but if your own desires, however slight or repressed they might be, are sculpting it. . .” The Master Jedi had shrugged, “Eventually, you’ll find yourself somewhere terrible with no idea how you got there.”

“No,” he’d continued, “the way I’ve been instructing you to center yourself in the Force, present but unaffected, is what allows you to sense the world as you are now. The Sith way is to center yourself, and make everything known in how it relates to you. The way some Jedi teach to sense the Force nowadays it is to try the opposite, to deny your own existence, as they are doing the opposite of the Sith, so that must be right. However, like they so often do, that faction assumes they understand their enemy’s position without ever studying it, and also never questions their own way. No, all Force users instinctually do what we do, and those that believe differently have to be trained out of it.”

“The Light is connection, so you start the same as the Sith, by centering yourself and knowing who you are, but then you need to reach out, and not see how everything else relates to you, but how you relate to everything else,” he’d told her, with the air of revealing a key fact that should’ve led to something greater.

She didn’t get it.

“Isn’t that the same thing? If you relate to things, and things relate to you. . . what’s the difference?” she’d asked, hands raised in confusion.

Looking mildly disappointed, Lucian had told her, “Primacy. As Sith, you are the most important thing in the universe, its conceptual center. As a Jedi, you are merely one part, a star, shining bright, but one in the tapestry of the sky,” he’d mused, oddly philosophical in contrast to his normal matter-of-fact explanations. “Even if you direct things, even if you’re the pilot of the ‘ship’, you aren’t the entire ship, and, no matter how important you are, you can’t make it work through your will alone. So, center yourself, and don’t assume you know what’s around you, but look and listen to the Force, to see what is truly there.”

And she had.

And she had seen.

“So, a Sith couldn’t find this place?” she’d asked, expecting a yes, to hear how their way was, as it was in so many other ways, superior.

Instead, he’d snorted. “Kriff, no, any half-decent Dark adept could spot this place in an instant. It pulls on them too much. If you don’t ride the Force the way we do, but make yourself a rock for it to crash against, you become very sensitive to its pressures. It’s only when you think you know what a place will be, an unimportant world in the Outer Rim, that, as its presence is not aggressive, places like this are overlooked. And that’s assuming a Jedi even comes through here, off the major Hyperspace lanes as it is, more than once a century or so. Remember, there are over a million worlds in the Republic alone, Anaïs, and only around ten thousand Jedi.”

Which, crunching the numbers, meant that over their careers, if they were to see them all, each Jedi would have to see a hundred planets. That seemed doable, even easy, as they’d seen almost that many in a couple months, when you counted the ones they’d buzzed by in-system while heading to their targets. If they’d stopped by them instead, it’d take longer, but they’d have hit that quota in a year or so.

Only, it needed to be one hundred unique planets, so only one person could count Coruscant, and the eleven other planets in its system, assuming that anyone actually visited an iceball like Ulabos. And then there were the planets, like the one where the Force-sensitive slug-man tribe lived, that weren’t part of the Republic at all. When one considered all of that, even a civilized world like this, part of the Republic proper, could be overlooked.

Now, though, walking the streets, in one way, nothing seemed amiss. In the other, the world itself was overflowing with the Force, but in a natural manner that wouldn’t draw attention the way the Temple had taught her to look. “I’m still surprised I haven’t heard of this place, with so many Force users to make an entire group. Most planets only have one or two!”

Lucian glanced at her, in a way that told her she’d said something hopelessly naïve. “Or is that not that odd?” she asked.

“In the Core, it is,” he agreed. “With the Jedi to grab any that catch their eye. The further afield you go, the more common it is. And there are. . . other reasons why, but that’s not something to discuss here. In terms of rarity, if one is as common as it gets, and ten is a completely unique world, Bhoyaria is a. . . seven, let’s say. With the galaxy being a place of infinite uniqueness, such things are hard to determine. In terms of Force strength, again with one being a Force-less rock, it’s a. . . five. Maybe a six, though likely not. A ten would likely burn out the presence of any Force-blind who wasn’t completely deaf to its call.”

They continued to walk, her Master with purpose, as they navigated street after street. Eventually, she spoke up, “Um, where is it? The circle?” Turning a corner, seeing a large building full of Speeders, with several speeder busses parked nearby, she clarified, “It’s not in Pelkram, is it?”

“Of course it isn’t,” Lucian had smiled. “After all, while most cannot sense the nature of this planet, Bhoyarians do have access to the Holonet, Padawan. A certain division between what is widely accepted, and what they do themselves, is required. And, should a Jedi be inclined to stop by, there is nothing in the public capital that would draw their attention. They’d poke around, find some petty crim, pat themselves on the back, and be on their way.”

“Public capital,” she echoed, but was waved to silence as her Master was greeted, giving his bank information and quickly issued a small but fast two-person speeder. Tossing their bags into the back, they smoothly took off, lifting up and turning to the west, Lucian seeming to know exactly where he was going, which he likely did.

“Public capital,” he finally agreed. “Bhoyaria is not a unified planet, though they pretend to be. It’s instead a loosely allied collection of city-states, almost all of them Adeptocracies, or Magocracies, as they call themselves. Pelkam is neutral ground, to keep others from interfering, but we’re going to Bamide, well, you’re going to Bamide. I’m going to Lolade, to make sure they’ve done as I asked. And if they haven’t. . .” The Jedi shrugged, but she understood. “Given how you wanted to do something different, I thought this would work.”

Anaïs felt herself blush in shame. She hadn’t said the fact that she wasn’t at ease with her Master’s way of ‘problem solving’ out loud, but, apparently, that hadn’t mattered. “Then we’ll only be here for a few days?” she asked, well aware of how quickly her Master worked.

However, he shook his head. “No, places like this require a more delicate touch. You’ll have a month before we move on, well enough to start to develop a technique of your own.”

“A technique of my own?” she echoed, again, before she understood. “Wait, is that why we’re here? But, you said not to copy what others do, no, you said I should develop,” she quickly corrected. “But, isn’t that stealing? They’ve worked to make those techniques, and I’m just-”

“Just working to make your own, based on what you observe, as they have worked to make theirs based on things they have observed,” Lucian interrupted. “There is no disrespect in learning from another group, Anaïs. If anything, the opposite is true. You are saying that they have achieved something worthy of imitation. Through that you- wait a moment,” he instructed, and she looked at him, confused, before he banked to the side, hard, a bolt of bright blue lightning shooting up from the trees, missing their car by only a few feet, the sound loud even to be heard clearly through the muffling of the speeder’s cabin.

“Through that you both grow,” he finished his sentence, as if nothing odd had happened.

“Master, what was that?” Anaïs demanded, turning in her seat as she tried to see what had shot at them, only catching a glimpse of large and blue beneath the leaves.

The Jedi smiled, “The local wildlife. You remember Uphrades, don’t you? While not nearly as seeped in the Dark, Bhoyaria is just as strong in the Force, if not more so. There’s a reason we haven’t seen that much air-traffic. Most of it sticks to pre-cleared pathways, but that’s so slow.”

“For someone as old as you are, you’re always in a hurry, aren’t you,” she groused, not sure what else to say, trying to mentally reach out to sense other dangers, and stiffening when, though faint, she felt dozens of creatures strong in the Force as they sped by them, each on the same level as the emberdrakes she’d fought, and resolved to stay out of the forests if at all possible.

“Ah, Padawan, but it is because I’ve lived so long that I truly appreciate how precious time is,” her Master stated enigmatically, falling silent as they continued to fly over the interminable sea of trees.

“Alright, this is more like what I expected,” Anaïs commented, as they walked towards a large complex of buildings on the edge of the city of Bamide, having set down their speeder nearby. Its main building was enormous, more solidly built than any of the surrounding city, but, most eye-catching of all was the floating green crystals that slowly spun above the campus, humming with energy as several dozen smaller pieces rotated around a crystalline spire mounted on a tower in the center of the complex. “But how come people haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what, a unique use of repulsorlift technology?” Lucian asked with a sly smile in turn, indicating the crystals brimming with the Force.

She gave him a flat look in response.

He laughed, “Yes, Padawan, it isn’t, but it is so much easier to see what one wants to see.”

“But what does it do?” Anaïs asked. “Is it just to show off?”

They approached the large gates that separated the complex from the rest of the city, two robed figures, one male, one female, standing guard. “Halt!” the man ordered, holding up a hand that shimmered with heat, the Force twisting around him oddly to create the effect. Whatever it was, it carried echoes of emotion, though heavily muted, outwards with it, a heavy desire, though of a desire for what she couldn’t tell.

Had she not been training with a Sith saber, or been to the death-tainted moon of Uphrades, she would’ve called it Dark, but it wasn’t, though neither was it Light. It was more than the former than the latter, but it only. . . was.

“What business do you have with the Circle?” the Force user questioned, the request just short of a demand, with his desire to know audible in his voice, but tightly controlled.

Lucian smiled, loosening his hold on his Presence, just a little, increasing the size of the effect of the Force around him from that of a Padawan to that of a Knight, the shadows that made up himself in that second plane of existence billowing outward invisibly. The man before them took a half-step back, hand flaring into fire, while the woman stood up straighter, something close to Force Control thrumming through her body, but with an undercurrent of something else along with it. “I am here to learn of course,” the Jedi replied simply. “Or, my apprentice is. If you could arrange for a meeting with Headmaster Draconis, I would appreciate it. Assuming he’s still alive.”

“Why should he meet with you?” the woman asked, her voice a feline purr, challenging and scornful.

As was his want, when faced with possible violence, the Jedi Master sighed. “Seventeen years later, this is still custom? If needs must,” he shrugged. Striding forward, he waved towards the woman, who, with a snarl, charged, moving blisteringly fast as she shucked her robe.

The furred woman, who looked to be a Cathar, closed on him with the predatory grace that her species was known for, claws out, though they were far larger than was normal. The cat girl leapt, ready to eviscerate, only to yowl in surprise when Lucian took a half step back, grabbed the woman’s wrists, and twisted with a ripple in the Force, sending the woman flying back the way she came, but upwards, as if fired from a cannon, clearing the gate and hitting a large window in the central tower several hundred feet away from them.

The guard didn’t shatter the glass on impact, what was likely transparisteel holding firm, but, though she wasn’t close enough to hear, Anaïs could’ve sworn the snap of a broken bones reached her ears as the woman in the distance fell to the ground, behind the gate and out of sight.

Turning to the remaining guard, whose flames had gone out, Lucian smiled. “I believe that counts as the prerequisite display of skill. Now, about that meeting?”

Soon enough they were being shown inside, the guard calling for someone instead of leaving the gate undefended, and they were shown to the very tower Lucian had tossed the other guard at. Up several sets of stairs, they were lead to an ornate pair of doors, which opened on their own, just the faintest stirring in the Force detectable, before their guide could knock. Striding in with a smile, the Jedi Master greeted, “Wyrmling, how are you? Still going by that made-up name?”

A dark-skinned elderly man, tall, and lean, but projecting strength with every movement, shook his head, standing in front of the very window that Lucian had thrown the guard at. “I am still around and, as I have told you, it’s a title. Are you still causing trouble and collecting strays?” he asked in return, regarding Anaïs, and she felt a terrible presence pressing down upon her.

It felt as if she were under the eye of an enormous dragon, resting in its lair upon a hoard of immense wealth, wondering what interloper had dared attract its attention. She stayed upright, calling upon her Mental Shields and standing firm under what was almost an assault, demanding she either kneel or flee, but she did neither.

“Hmmf,” the old man commented, short white beard twitching into a small smile, and the pressure relented, the dragon satisfied. “Stronger than most of the candidates you bring me.”

Wait. What?

“She should be,” Lucian commented smugly, “She’s my apprentice.”

The old man’s head snapped over with speed at odds with his age. “Your what?”

“What candidates?” Anaïs questioned, at the same time.

The Jedi Master looked over at her, again with a slightly smug smile. “Come now, Padawan. You know how restrictive the Order is with who they take. Find a student too old, too weak, or who already has a touch of the Dark to their presence, even if it’s no fault of their own, and they’ll turn them away. There are others, however, who are not as. . . restrictive. Depending on their aptitudes, and their proclivities, I might send those who have potential any number of locations. Someone who either has an aptitude for, or has already started using, Foci, I would direct here. Someone with a desire to heal over all else, I would direct to the Fleshweavers, don’t worry, the name’s not as ominous in the natives’ language. And finally, someone with a more martial bent would be directed, well, elsewhere.”

“And your taking of an apprentice?” the Headmaster inquired.

Lucian shrugged. “Blame the Little One. He convinced me. However, we’re taking a slight break from our duties, and, while I see to that little cult of yours, my student will attend as a visiting member of the ‘Je’daii Circle’, for a month or so.”

“It might be closer to two months, possibly three,” the bearded man warned. “The Radiance have. . . grown, and politely asked members of our Circle to leave.”

“How many casualties?” Lucian asked, which made no sense, however Draconis merely grimaced.

“A little under a third of our mages there perished, and another fifth suffered lasting injury,” the Headmaster replied. “We already owe you a debt, but before you leave. . .”

Lucian nodded. “I’ll see to them.” He glanced over to his Padawan, sensing her confusion over their bond in the Force. “When the Wyrmling says they were politely invited to leave, he means they were told to convert, or die. The Force reacts. . . interestingly to absolute faith, and to one not properly hardened to its effects, it can be. . . unpleasant.”

“I’d go myself, but If I were to leave, the array could be coopted,” the Headmaster sighed. “And doing so would be to invite retaliation. But if a foreigner were to act, a shadowed blade instead of a purging flame-“

“I understand, Edward, and I’ll handle what you cannot,” the Jedi Master smiled, and the Headmaster glared, the Force swirling around him as the air shimmered with heat between them. The old man’s pupils distended into slits for a moment, before he sighed, the temperature settling and the man’s eyes returning to normal.

Harrumphing, the old Adept turned to regard Anaïs again, this time without the crushing, assessing pressure he’d exerted before. “What Faction, should she be joining? Minerali, like you would be or. . . well well well,” the man smiled, professional air shattering as he stared at her chest with a level of desire coming off of him that was practically intoxicating.

Feeling very uncomfortable, she took a half step back, before, looking down, she realized the old man wasn’t staring at her, he was staring at the emberdrake talon amulet, the tip stained eternally red with her blood, encased in transparisteel. A momento of her first intentional kill, and the result of her first life-or-death clash, though, unbeknownst to her, Lucian had been watching nearby. It was a reminder of the progress she’d made, the progress she still had left to achieve, and her decision to take the correct path, instead of the easy one.

Casually, Lucian stepped up to the headmaster and slapped him upside the head. “Down boy, she’s one of mine, and won’t be using that as a Foci.”

The elderly man looked like someone had kicked his puppy. “But it’s already aligned to her, more tightly than any this year!” he almost whined. “Girl, did you defeat it? And is that your blood?”

Looking to her Master, he nodded, so she did in turn. “Two of them tried to kill me, while I was out on a run.”

The headmaster turned pleading eyes toward Lucian. “They were on the hunt, and became the hunted! That’s. . . that’s. . .”

“No,” Lucian insisted.

Holding a hand up, Anaïs asked, “What are we talking about?”

“Well, young woman, the answer is simple. Power,” the headmaster smiled. “To use magic properly, one needs a Foci, a connection to the world bound to the user, but separate from them. Through it one can manipulate the power of this world, of all worlds, and bend it to their whims. Be the Foci from an animal, a plant, or from the earth itself, if it is magical, a user can align with it and, through it, gain power beyond imagining. Finding a compatible Foci is difficult, and binding it to ones-self is triply so. You,” he stated, pointing towards her amulet, “have done both, seemingly by accident. With the proper instruction, and your natural talents, you may one day surpass even me in power,” he declared holding an arm out, palm up.

The man’s dark brown skin shifted, sprouting deep red scales, hands becoming talons, and a crimson flame, so dark it was almost black, appeared in his palm. It radiated power in a way that called to her, as it whispered of strength and power, how she could become ruler of all she surveyed and could mold the world to the way she wanted. For good, or ill, it all could be hers.

Used to such temptations, she brought up her mental shields, and looked past the Force Adept. Again, the man wasn’t Sith, or even truly Dark, though there were absolutely wisps of taint clinging to the power he wielded, and she wanted nothing to do with it. Meeting her master’s gaze, she raised an eyebrow, as if to ask ‘What is the point of this?’

The Master Jedi smirked, stepping forward, and with a hand covered in Shadowy Force, crushed the flame held in the other man’s palm, the oppressive power cut off completely. “What Draconis is not telling you is that, by using a Foci to shape your expression, it shapes you in turn, Padawan. You will, whether you like it or not, start to gain the traits of that which you align yourself with. It is not a flaw of the process, but a feature, for, once you have learned to use a Foci fully, down to your very soul, you will no longer need one.” He nodded to the Headmaster who was looking rather put out.

“And what is wrong with being a dragon?” the old man challenged the Jedi Master. “I am still me, only more so.” He turned to her. “Are you sure, young lady? The path your teacher walks is a hard one, and you will work thrice as long for half the power, using yourself as your Foci, as Lucian does.”

She smiled, recognizing that, despite the temptation the old man’s power instilled, it wasn’t intentional, and the choice was hers. “Thank you for your offer, Headmaster Draconis,” she bowed formally, “but I am a Jedi, and a Jedi I will remain.”

Lucian laughed, clapping the taller man on the shoulder. “And this is why she is my student, instead of yours.”