“Had enough?” Beju asked mockingly.
In answer, Obi-Wan lunged forward. The clang of metal rang through the air as Beju parried his blow. Beju pushed back against him. Obi-Wan was surprised at how strong the boy was. He was in much better shape than Obi-Wan would have guessed.
Beju pressed forward, slashing at Obi-Wan, who parried each blow. His lightsaber training helped, but he was not used to the shock that traveled up his arm each time their swords tangled. The sword was heavier than a lightsaber, and his timing and footwork were off because of it. Beju pressed his advantage, driving forward, his sword glinting as it slashed through the air. For the first time, Obi-Wan had his doubts that he could defeat the Prince at his own game.
Doubt in battle, there cannot be.
Always, in times of trouble, Yoda’s teachings rose in his mind. Belief, there must be. Belief, in the Force. Reach for it, you will.
Yes, he had an advantage that Beju did not. Obi-Wan reached out to the Force. He felt it build within him. Doubt left him. Belief rushed in. He would win because he had to win.
The sword suddenly felt familiar in his hand. Its weight was reassuring, not strange. He leaped up on the royal bench and swooped down on Beju, the sword held high, then low, stabbing, jabbing, surprising the Prince with his moves. Beju staggered back, his sword held defensively, trying to stave off the fury of Obi-Wan’s attack.
Obi-Wan’s mind was clear. It was not clouded with hate or bitterness. He needed to stop Beju. He struck again, trying to loosen Beju’s grip on his sword.
But the Prince rallied. Anger drove him, and anger backed by skill can be a powerful ally. Beju launched an offensive at Obi-Wan. He struck again and again as Obi-Wan repelled the attacks, feeling the power of Beju’s blows move up his arm. His shoulder began to ache.
Sweat rolled down Obi-Wan’s face. Beju lost his footing and staggered. They had been fighting for some time now. Prince Beju’s face was red with exertion. Obi-Wan could feel his opponent’s exhaustion. He hoped it would cause Beju to make a mistake. He launched himself at Beju again. Obi-Wan drove him toward the corner. Now Beju was at bay, unable to evade him. With a downward blow, Obi-Wan dislodged the sword from Beju’s grasp. The Prince dived for it, his hands closing around the hilt as Obi-Wan leaped over a chair to prevent him.
A voice behind them cracked the silence. “Enough!”
A hooded figure moved within their vision. He wore the silver robes of a Council Minister. Obi-Wan recognized the elder whom he’d seen mysteriously appear and disappear in the gardens. “You will lose, my Prince. Anyone can see that.”
“I will not lose!” the Prince howled, just as Obi-Wan’s foot came down on his wrist, preventing him from grasping his sword.
“Besides, Viso,” the Prince snarled, “how can you tell if I will lose? You’re blind! You can’t even see your own hand before you.” Obi-Wan studied the elder more closely. He realized for the first time that his milky blue eyes were sightless. With a swift movement, Obi-Wan reached down and snatched Prince Beju’s sword from the floor.
“I saw you were losing some time ago,” Viso said quietly. “This battle is not the point. You have denied the truth for too long. When a man does this, he loses.”
“Stop talking in riddles, old man,” Prince Beju said, rolling over and rising shakily to his feet. “Your stories have always bored me.”
“Queen Veda has not lied to you, my Prince,” Viso replied, serene in the face of Beju’s rudeness. “But your father did. Giba did. The men you worshipped lied to you. The mother who bore you did not.”
“Get out!” the Prince screamed. “I will have the guards throw you in jail for your lies!”
“Then you will have to prove that I lie. Don’t you want to see my proof first? Are you brave enough to face it?” Viso asked in the same calm tone.
Obi-Wan looked at Beju. He saw that the Prince could not back down. Viso had maneuvered him into a corner as surely as Obi-Wan had in battle.
“Fine, old man,” the Prince sneered. “Show me what you call proof. And then I will have the great satisfaction of throwing you in the tower jail.”
Viso bowed. He gestured for them to follow him. He led them out of the chamber, through another grand meeting room. He led them into a small antechamber beyond.
The room was completely empty. The walls and floor were of pale blue stone. On the floor an intricate design of interlocking squares had been traced in silver imbedded in the stone.
“Stand in the small square in the center, please, Prince Beju,” Viso said.
Prince Beju looked suddenly nervous. “The square within the square,” he said. “My father spoke of this. He never explained it. He said… he said when I was strong enough to face what it meant, I would be ready.”