Tales of the Jedi(9)

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

Tyrrahl lowered his head. He silently wondered how many times such an exchange had occurred between master and student. “Then don’t let me stop you.”

Dray tightened his grip on the lightsaber’s silver haft and started walking.

“Trust in yourself and you cannot fail.”

With one final glance over his shoulder, Dray nodded solemnly and went off to meet his destiny.



Dray was still asleep, his pupils dancing to a furious beat behind his eyelids. His mind refused to recall the incident at the Citadel, even in a dream.

Other images began to take form, familiarly haunting yet at the same time something was different.

It was night and he was alone - in his life, in the world, in the galaxy.

Her face emerged from the shadows. Her lightsaber pulsed like a beacon in the darkness.

He knew he should deflect it but he couldn’t lift his own saber. He had always been the better duelist, the best Tyrrahl had ever trained. He might have easily beaten her, disarmed her… Killed her.

But he could not move.

So he watched as she swung her glowing blade toward his neck.

Dray’s mouth was open, but no sound emerged.

He merely stared at the face of his would-be killer. At first he thought it was Cayli, as it always was.

But this time it was different; it was not Cayli…

This girl was much older, but the features were unmistakable. It was Nova.



Nova was in terrible danger.

Dray knew it as sure as he knew his own name. His head was a chaotic swirl of emotions he could not even begin to count. He had experienced too much in the last few hours to properly put into perspective.

And he had little time left to help her.

But did he want to?

Dray gathered a cleansing breath from the cool night air and

began reciting the words ingrained in his head by Tyrrahl.

“Emotion, yet peace.”

The voice of many whispers responded: A true warrior knows that peace is but a respite between battles. The sharpest blade is your own fury.

“Ignorance, yet knowledge”

They hide the real power from you. You must take it from them or be forever a slave to your Masters.

“Passion, yet serenity.”

Only droids have no feelings. Are you no better than an automaton of the light side?

“Chaos, yet harmony”

Order must be imposed on the savages of the galaxy. Only then can true civilization thrive.

“Death, yet the Force”

Those who truly command the Force can escape even death. They make you think you are weak so they can control you.

Dray let out a guttural cry… Of anger, frustration, helplessness. He stared up accusingly at the coldly shimmering stars.

“I never asked for this!” he screamed at the impassive points of light. Momentarily overwhelmed, he bowed his head. Dray spoke softly, barely audible. “I didn’t choose the way of the Force.”

A gentle voice answered him. This time it was not that silky whisper. “No, Lian. The Force chose you. And now you must choose your own way.”

He did not recognize it at first, though he soon realized it was not a single voice that spoke to him but rather an amalgam of many he already knew: Cayli, Master Tyrrahl, Nova… And one other that spoke so forcefully he wasn’t quite sure of its origin. Then he knew; it was his own.



Nova shivered inside the small cage, afraid to touch to the shimmering bars of energy that held her prisoner. Her hands still hurt from the futile escape attempt a few moments ago.

She watched her captor going about his work, completely ignoring her. The man was thin, almost sickly, with a ragged cough. His frail form was cloaked in voluminous purple robes and elaborate jewelry. A ring adorned every finger, resulting in a insectile clicking whenever he wrung his hands together. He was bald with a heavily-scarred face and dead eyes. Every time he looked at Nova with those awful eyes, she unconsciously trembled.

The man was currently scowling at an obstinate portion of his ship’s engine. The monolithic craft looked too heavy to be spaceworthy.

After a few moments of tinkering, sparks sizzled through the night sky. The man erupted into a string of colorful vulgarities as he withdrew his singed fingers from the compartment. Apparently, he was used to being obeyed.

The man whirled abruptly, eyes wild as they searched the forest.

“Did you think you could hide yourself from me?” he demanded to know.

In response, Dray stepped out of the brush and smiled. His fingers were calmly interlaced, the lightsaber swinging lazily at his side. “Had I wanted to approach you with stealth, my saber would have been at your throat as we speak.” Dray glanced at Nova, held in the pulsing cage. He recognized the prison - a renowned Sith design that worked like a energy vortex. Anyone held within was cut off from the Force.