Jedi Insurgency 281 (Interlude 42)

Nearly eight months had passed since Order 66. For the last month, Jax had been hard at work training himself in preparation to return to the war. During that time, he had had a run in with a Force Ghost others seemed not to be able to comprehend. 

This new companion of his did not go by any name, but when Master Corvus was busy handling Order affairs, or training on his own time, this apparition had become a steadfast companion. An expert in double-bladed lightsabers, and so knowledgeable in combat, it sometimes exceeded what Master taught him, Jax had grown by leaps and bounds. Last month, he was a journeyman Jedi Knight. Now? Whilst he wouldn't claim to be on par with a Master, he dared to claim there were few other Knights or Sith Lords who could match his prowess. The trial grounds had proven that. 

Currently atop a floating island training near a waterfall, he was undergoing perhaps his last training session before he returned to the front. Master Corvus had been greatly worried as of late, and the High Council members appeared more solemn than usual. This was a sign that conflict would resume soon, and he was determined to do his part. With him on the front lines, it meant he could save more lives, and protect his friends. 

The white-haired Jedi moved through the waterfall's mist with a double-bladed lightsaber in his hands. Both blades were white kyber crystals found from an ancient lightsaber that the Force had guided him to. Moving in a kata to warm himself up, Jax spun the long hilt around his body, guiding one blade over his shoulder while the other swept low across the grass. The weapon rotated once, twice, then passed behind his back before returning to his waiting palm.

His movements were fast, controlled, and almost completely silent. Juyo-a technique taught by Master-flowed seamlessly into Niman, Form VI. Yet he was somewhat clumsy in the execution, accidentally striking a nearby stone. 

“You are still treating it as two swords joined together.” The spirit companion of his said in a concise tone. 

The Force Ghost stood several paces away, half-shrouded by the waterfall’s spray. He appeared as a tall human man with broad shoulders, dark hair, and the unmistakable bearing of someone who had once commanded armies. His translucent robes resembled those worn by Jedi from an age preserved only in damaged murals and incomplete archives. There was dignity in his posture, but little serenity. In a way, he strongly reminded Jax of his own Master. 

Jax looked at the man, silently awaiting instruction. 

“The staff is the weapon, the blades merely define its reach. You must know where the center is at all times. Lose the center, and the weapon controls you.”

Jax glanced at the long saber hilt in his hands, contemplating these words of wisdom, then nodded his head as he visualized his mistakes. 

“Again.” The spirit demanded. 

Jax resumed his training. He rotated the weapon forward, allowing the lower blade to sweep across the grass. As the upper blade crossed his chest, he shifted his left hand along the hilt and changed the axis of the spin. The saber passed around his back, but this time he moved with it rather than forcing it to follow him.

“Better.” The ghost nodded, the barest hint of a compliment in his tone. 

Jax stepped forward and thrust with one blade, then pivoted, using the second to guard his exposed side.

“Do not stop.”

Jax flowed into another rotation, his focus on himself, his weapon, and his surroundings took on an almost 3rd Person POV, something he had unknowingly picked up from his Master after watching him train for hours on end. 

The ghost circled him, watching every movement. “A single blade encourages certainty. It teaches the duelist to place all intention upon one edge. A saberstaff requires division without weakness. Attack and defense must occur together.”

Jax accelerated, his flow within the Force adopted the wild might of a Zillo Beast, yet his intellect and will reigned it in. Light & Dark coalesced, making the waterfall contract and pulse as if it were alive. 

White light revolved around him in ever widening circles, illuminating the waterfall and transforming the mist into a shimmering halo. One blade passed within inches of his shoulder, while the other cut through the air at knee height.

The spirit’s expression sharpened as he observed the boy train. 

“Your master favors unpredictability, he changes rhythm, distance, and intention before his enemy understands that the duel has begun. That talent served him well against the Mandalorians. I see you have grasped some of his essence.” 

Jax’s eyes flicked toward the spirit, curious about his Master's past, and somewhat embarrassed to be mentioned in the same breath as his Master. Yet he did not show it, his irregularly pale face remained composed in an icy mask, his wintery blue eyes silently regarded his instructor. 

“The Mandalorian Wars happened after your time. What do you know about my Master?” Jax-suspicious ever since the betrayal of Order 66-asked with narrowed eyes. 

“History is not inaccessible to the dead. I know a great many things, young Knight.” The spirit said in a mysterious air. 

Jax continued the sequence, though his gaze remained thoughtful.

The spirit gestured toward his hands. “Your grip.”

Jax adjusted it.

“Too tight. You are strangling the weapon.”

The spirit then moved beside him and raised one transparent hand, positioning it near the center of the hilt without touching it.

“When I first carried such a weapon, I made the same mistake.”

“Did Jedi commonly use double-bladed lightsabers in your age?” He asked between a forward jump stab. 

“Commonly? No.” The ghost’s mouth curved slightly. “Most lacked the ambition to master one.”

Jax let out an imperceptible sigh-another habit picked up by his Master-due to his other question being ignored. 

“Show me the depths of your training. If you are to depart for war, I will not have it said that a pupil of mine went unprepared.” The spirit declared. 

The apparition then moved to the center of the training ground and extended his hand. A spectral weapon formed within his grasp, its long hilt taking shape piece by piece. Two pale blue blades emerged from either end, quieter and less substantial than Jax’s own.

The spirit assumed a stance that Jax had never seen in the Temple.

It was not quite a Jedi posture. The weapon was held diagonally behind him, one blade rising above his shoulder while the other angled toward the earth. His weight rested upon his forward foot, and there was an aggressive stillness in him, like one who possessed the patience of a predator ready for the kill. 

Before Jax could gather himself, the sparring match had begun. 

The ghost spun the double-bladed lightsaber through a series of vicious rotations. There was none of the wasted motion Jax had struggled to eliminate. Every turn concealed an attack, each defensive sweep transformed into a strike from an unexpected direction. The weapon shifted from one hand to two, passed behind the spirit’s shoulders, then snapped forward with enough force that Jax instinctively leaned away.

The final motion ended with one blade at Jax’s throat, whilst the other pointed backward, guarding against an enemy who was not there. The spirit held the position, and began to lecture whilst the hum of his spectral blade rested inches from taking Jax's life. 

“A duel is not a performance. Never spin without purpose. Never expose yourself to a counterattack merely to inspire fear.”

Jax looked down at the spectral blade, and closed his eyes as he absorbed the brief, yet enlightening engagement. 

“Thank you for the instruction.” He said sincerely. 

The weapon vanished from the ghost’s hands.

Jax returned to the beginning of the demonstration, and attempted to imitate what he had seen. His first rotation was too broad. The spirit corrected him. His second was too cautious. The spirit ordered him to repeat it. On the third attempt, Jax stepped into the motion and allowed the weapon’s momentum to carry naturally through his center.

He performed the full bout after only experiencing it once. 

One blade struck high.

The other guarded low.

He pivoted beneath the falling mist, reversed his grip, and brought the lengthy hilt to rest across his body.

The spirit nodded in satisfaction. “A true genius. I would not teach any other.” 

“My Master has high expectations of me…one day, I will shoulder his burdens.” Jax said, as the wild side of the Force briefly swirled in his eyes. 

“Your master expects much from everyone.” There was no disrespect in the spirit’s words, though neither was there warmth.

“You speak as though you know him.” Jax said with a furrowed brow. 

“I know his kind.”

“And what kind is that?” Jax asked, ever curious to learn more. 

The ghost turned toward the distant mountains. “The kind who believes the galaxy can be forced into salvation.”

Jax studied him, finding himself agreeing with the statement. 

“Did someone in your time try the same thing? Perhaps…” He asked, looking at the apparition with a leading look. 

The ghost looked toward the waterfall.

“A great many people have tried to save the galaxy. Few succeed.” The ghost said in a somewhat melancholic tone. 

Jax nodded, interested, but not interested enough to say more than was necessary. Then walked toward a super long rope that anchored the flying island to a lake down below. Before he jumped, he stopped.

“I may not return tomorrow. Perhaps this is goodbye, Ancient Jedi Master.” Jax said with a small bow. 

“You could continue your training elsewhere. We have a connection now. Should you call upon me, it may not necessarily be impossible to manifest.”

“Perhaps.” Jax shrugged noncommittally. 

The answer clearly displeased him, though the spirit concealed it well.

The ghost looked past him toward the rope, then lowered his voice. “There is one matter I had hoped to discuss before you left Tython.”

Jax waited, already ready to depart, this lecture was like being held up by a teacher long after class had ended. 

“My presence here is incomplete. I am not bound to this planet, but neither am I free of the place where my mortal life ended.”

“You said you had forgotten much of your death.”

“I did.”

“And now?”

“...There is a place where my remains were left without rites. I once believed such matters beneath me, but eternity changes one’s perspective. If someone were to travel there, and perform the proper rites, it might allow me to become one with the Force.”

“You want me to make a pilgrimage to free you?” Jax asked in a steady tone, heavily considering the prospect. 

“I would not command it, but given our brief friendship, I hope you would follow this old man's last request.” The spirit said with a pitiful smile. 

“Why not tell Master Revan?”

The smile disappeared, and the ghost turned away, his translucent robes drifting around him despite the absence of wind.

“Your master is a busy man. Besides of all the Jedi on this world, I can only manifest before a single person, and that, Jax, is you. Only you are worthy of inheriting my legacy.” The spirit calmly explained. 

Jax stared into the spirit’s face, searching for something hidden behind the ancient dignity and carefully measured sorrow. He found ambition there, pride, loneliness, and perhaps regret. None of those things proved deceit.

“I would ask that you reveal this to no one. Not even Revan. I will not compel you, nor will I ask you to disobey his orders. Should your duties ever carry you near the place, you need only investigate. Nothing more. However, this old man is not powerless. Should you find yourself encountering a foe beyond your ken, you need only invite me in, and I shall lend you my power.” The spirit humbly declared. 

Jax looked down at the wet stone beneath his boots. For several weeks, the ghost had offered knowledge without payment. He had not encouraged hatred, nor asked Jax to abandon Revan or question the Jedi. He had merely taught him how to control a difficult weapon. At last, he met the ghost’s eyes.

“If I am in the area…and it does not conflict with my master’s orders, I will try to put your remains to rest. After all, peace, justice, and harmony are the Jedi Way.” Jax stated with a firm conviction. 

“Thank you, Jax.” The spirit said, his voice filled with relief. 

“Where did you die?” Jax then asked with all the subtlety of a Rancor going on a walk. 

For a fleeting moment, the gentle mask of a forgotten Jedi seemed to fall away. The waterfall’s light caught a nearly manic look on his face, and in that instant he did not resemble a humble spirit seeking peace. He looked like a king standing before an army. Like a conqueror before the gates of a doomed world.

“Yavin IV.”

~~~~~~~

AN: Just wanted to remind everyone that Jax had a prophecy about him made during the mini-arc before Coruscant~ 

Well well well, I think that's enough bad guys lurking in the dark for now. I've got like two-three other bad guy factions lurking out there (that aren't the Vong), but they can show up late to the party. I also have two other good guy factions-just as strong as these top tier bad guys-resting in the wings, perhaps I'll reveal them in an interlude, or deus ex machina one of them as needed. 

Vader/Orphan Annie/Palps next?