“Fool.” Bruck growled softly enough so that others could hear him above the cheering. “You should never have agreed to fight me. You can’t win.”
Bruck’s shocking white hair was tied in a ponytail, and sweat stood out in droplets on his brow. He wore heavily padded black body armor. The odor of burned flesh and singed hair hung heavily in the air. Both warriors had managed to hit one another, but the touches so far had not been firm strikes.
Around the arena, many of the younger initiates cheered, calling out encouragement to Bruck or Obi-Wan. All of them had heard of the fight last night. Obi-Wan heard Bant shout “Courage, Obi-Wan! You’re doing well!” Garen Muln whistled through his teeth.
“You mean that you can’t win!” Obi-Wan told Bruck scornfully, as their training lightsabers tangled and sizzled. “Your failure today will signal to everyone that you are not just a loser, but a liar.”
The Masters had decided the fight would be without blindfolds. Bruck’s face was close, and his eyes glared at Obi-Wan with hate. The moment stretched, extended. In Bruck’s eyes Obi-Wan saw a future mapped out for him, a future in which anger ruled him and he began to hate all who opposed him.
Obi-Wan reached out for the Force. He felt it flow around him, but he could not fully grasp it. Here was the boy who stood between him and his dream, who mocked him, who tricked him. He pushed against Bruck and saw the surprise in the boy’s eyes as he fell backward.
Obi-Wan took advantage of Bruck’s uncertainty to aim a sizzling attack at Bruck’s face. Bruck ducked and slashed at Obi-Wan’s feet. Obi-Wan leaped high in the air.
As a child, Obi-Wan had learned by fighting older students to avoid flashy attacks that wasted energy. Instead, he’d been trained to fight defensively, to block blows with small movements, or to avoid them.
As Obi-Wan parried Bruck’s moves, he felt Qui-Gon Jinn’s eyes on him. The Jedi was a rebel and a loner, and Obi-Wan wanted to be seen as a rebel, too.
Instead of waiting to gauge Bruck’s attack strategy, Obi-Wan attacked suddenly and furiously. Bruck tried to block the attacks, but Obi-Wan’s lightsaber met Bruck’s with stinging power. Bruck nearly dropped his weapon.
Obi-Wan brandished his lightsaber in both hands, swinging brutally. Bruck tried to block a second time, and fell back, sprawling. His lightsaber switched off and went skittering over the uneven floor.
Obi-Wan slammed down, a decisive blow that should have won the bout, but Bruck managed to roll aside and grab his lightsaber. He barely had time to switch it on before Obi-Wan’s lightsaber battered down again.
This time, there was no blocking the blow. Bruck’s lightsaber knocked back into him. Obi-Wan caught Bruck cleanly between the eyes, burning his hair and scorching his skin.
Bruck cried out in pain as both lightsabers burned him, and Yoda announced, “Enough!”
All around the arena, the initiates shouted and cheered. Bant’s eyes were shining, and Reeft’s wrinkled face had more creases due to his wide smile.
Obi-Wan backed away, panting. Sweat ran down his arms and face; his muscles ached from exertion. His head swam with dizziness.
Yet he had never tasted such sweet triumph. He glanced into the shadows around the arena, and saw Qui- Gon Jinn watching him. The Jedi Master gave him the briefest nod, the began speaking to Yoda.
I’ve won, Obi-Wan realized, a thrill rising within him. I beat Bruck soundly. Qui-Gon is impressed.
He tried to keep his rising exhilaration in check. He bowed to Yoda and to the rest of the Masters. Then he couldn’t resist raising hid lightsaber in the air to the cheers of his friends. Obi-Wan grinned and shook the lightsaber at a proud Bant, Reeft, and Garen Muln. Perhaps he’d won more than an important fight. Perhaps he’s won the right to become a Padawan.
The cheers still rang in his ears as he went to the dressing chamber. He showered and changed into a fresh tunic. He was tossing his stained tunic into the laundry container when Qui-Gon Jinn entered the room. He was a big, powerful man, but his footsteps were soundless.
“Who taught you to fight like that?” Qui-Gon asked. The Jedi had rough features, but his was a sensitive, thoughtful face.
“What do you mean?”
“Students in the Temple rarely attack so viciously. They learn to defend, to wear one another down. They conserve their strength. Yet you fought… like a very dangerous man. You left yourself open to attack time and time again, and relied on the other boy to take the defensive stance.”
“I wanted to end it quickly,” Obi-Wan said. “The Force allowed it.”
Qui-Gon studied Obi-Wan for a long moment. “I am not so sure. You cannot always rely upon your enemy to take the defensive stance. Your fighting style is too dangerous, too risky.”
“You cold teach me better,” Obi-Wan said evenly. The words invited the Jedi to ask Obi-Wan to be his Padawan.
But Qui-Gon merely bowed his head. “Perhaps I could,” he said slowly. The word caused hope to ride in Obi-Wan. But only a heartbeat later, it was dashed.
“Or perhaps no one could,” Qui-Gon continued. “You were angry with the other boy. I sensed anger in both of you.”
“That’s not why I wanted to win.” Obi-Wan held Qui-Gon’s gaze steadily, letting him know that he had fought to impress him, to show him how well he could serve him.
Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan intently for a long moment, still staring at him… through him. Hope rose in Obi- Wan again. He’ll ask me now, Obi-Wan thought. He’ll ask me to be his Padawan.
But Qui-Gon merely said, “In future fight, rein in your anger. A Jedi Knight never exhaust himself when battling a stronger foe. And never expect your enemy to miss an opportunity to do you harm.”
