Legends of the Jedi: The Beast of Rutan/Part III

He held one hand to his side, where I had wounded him. I could feel him focusing Force energies and slowly knitting the skin back together. I did not feel inclined to attempt to stop him; not only had my fury died down to a point, but I was still doing the same thing. Every extra second of healing would help me in the upcoming finale.

"I already know your name, Jedi Knight Kelbus," he said. "So I will tell you the one that I once went by. It is Lavidean Dargus."

I nearly fell over.

I recognized that name.

My lips quivered ineffectually for a second or two before I was able to form a sentence. "Master Dargus?" I gasped.

He nodded and went on, his voice as casual as that of an ordinary man speaking of past employers. "Indeed. I served the Council at Alaris for some time. You have heard of me?"

My eyes fell downward as I attempted to process this revelation. All I could manage in reply was a simple nod.

Jedi Master Lavidean Dargus. The name was quite familiar to me, for I had heard it many times during my apprenticeship to my Master; he had spoken of Dargus as a good friend many times, but for one reason or another I had always fallen short of actually meeting the man.

Lavidean leveled a thin, knowing smile at me. "Yes," he said. "Your Master spoke of you often when we worked together. But I now sense that you are piecing this situation together."

My capacity for speech returned to me. "I am," I said. "I had never suspected that you would turn out to be a Jedi, but now I see how blinded I was to the possibility. No one else could have evaded us for so long, especially by hiding himself in the Force."

He continued staring at me, clearly expecting me to say more.

"And your disguise, the 'old man' persona," I remarked. "Simply a Force illusion. And when we spoke earlier, I suspect that there is a reason why I never suspected that the killer was you."

His grin widened. "Excellent!" he exclaimed, sounding genuinely pleased. "Very good, Jedi Knight Kelbus. I spent many of my years as a Jedi perfecting the art of illusions and tricks of the mind. Only one who was as familiar with such skills as I would be able to see through them – a familiarity which you obviously lack," he added with a chuckle that made my bones tense. My immunity to the taunts of enemies had been severely thinned by the events of this mission, but I could not afford to lose my temper now. Strangely, I felt as deeply cut by his remark about my abilities as by the reference to Euthsia – I had trained for so long and had been so sure of myself when I first arrived, yet my companion and I could not have been an easier target for Lavidean.

I decided to try to obtain some more important information from my adversary. The mystery of the killer was more or less entirely solved, but now I wanted to know where this entire state of affairs had come from. Why had Lavidean come here?

"The last I heard of him," I said, thinking out loud, "Master Lavidean Dargus took a leave of absence from the Order after defusing a conflict in the Bortele Cluster. He said that he wanted time to write his treatise on political thought and spend time with his..."

A dim but recent memory flickered and squirmed in the back of my mind, giving me pause. What was it?

"...and spend time with his wife," I went on. "He took this leave no more than a standard year ago, which is nearly the same as a local year, give or take a month."

Lavidean's smile had disappeared. Now his stare was a probing, methodical one. He spoke as though he wanted me to say something specific, guiding indirectly me to the truth. "And what does that mean to you?" he asked. "I sense that you find it significant."

My mouth fell open as the memory returned fully to my consciousness. When I had met the governor's official in the city, he made a reference to a disturbing experience of his that had occured a year earlier. At the time I paid it no heed, but now...

"A year ago," I said suddenly. "there was a murder. A couple arrived from off-world. The wife was murdered and the husband, I presume, disappeared."

Lavidean brushed his mustache. "And?"

"It was you. You killed your wife, and then you came here."

"I did," he said, his voice terribly nonchalant. "Congratulations, Jedi Knight Kelbus. You have one more piece of the puzzle."

That was true, but it brought me no comfort. More answers to the what questions served only to raise more why questions. I decided to ask them point-blank, beginning with a more minor one.

"You are also the one who opened many of the tombs here. You also removed some of the dead ones from them. Why?"

Lavidean shrugged, apparently having expected me to ask something more important. "Those?" he said dully. "I use them for shelter, but I cannot abide the stench of their owners, so I rid myself of them. And I have to move from one structure to the next from time to time, otherwise I become restless. I suppose I am a bit like an animal in that way," he added. "As are you, though in your own ways and without knowing it."

I shifted uncomfortably, but could not think of anything to say in reply. He spoke next, cutting me off just as I was about to ask my next question.

"I have encountered and killed many among this land, but I was content with what life had for me here. I am alive, I exist, I endure. I live as a creature of simple habits, each day much the same as the last. So you can imagine my surprise when I learned that a Jedi had come here to hunt me. I was almost flattered. In the end, though, I was disappointed, as the course of our encounter has only just recently diverged from the norm. You truly do not understand me at all, Jedi Knight Kelbus," he went on, shaking his head at the fire. "Or even yourself. You came here with all of your strangth and training, but in the end you amount to nothing more than a child stumbling in the dark. Your friend was even worse off."

After this he paused to look at me, perhaps in order to note my reaction. I stared back, my expression blank. The stinging in my arm was lessened somewhat, but my exhaustion remained.

"He had no power in the Force. It was as easy to kill him as any of the others. You, on the other hand..." He paused to point a finger at me. "You came here at least able to defend yourself. And I can sense your burning curiosity for me. You do not merely want to kill me, but also understand me. As I said, you do not even understand yourself."

My patience had by this time been burned away entirely, and I could hold my tongue no longer. "Understand what about myself, you murderer?" I spat, using my pride as a crutch. "What do you think you have to teach me? I am a Jedi Knight. I have traveled the galaxy and explored the depths of the Force. What are you? You left wisdom and sense behind, you live in these tombs like a savage and have killed dozens without reason! Explain yourself! If you would impart wisdom or knowledge, then out with it, else I will settle for taking your head now rather than later, if you only have veiled insults for me."

I shook with outrage. I knew factually that the man before me was Lavidean Dargus, but I could not believe in my heart that he truly had once been a Jedi and was now the enemy I beheld. The image of the man I had heard so much of was incompatible with the image that I saw now.

As I hurled my accusations and demands words upon him, a smile grew upon his face, but it was not his usual one. Instead it was a sharper, more sinister grin – the visage of a predator that reveled in my distress. "Very quick to draw on your anger, I see, now that your illusions of power and control are gone," he said, his voice low. "Where is your Jedi peace now, Jedi Knight Kelbus? I see so much of my old self in you. And even some of my current self, in fact. You hunger for blood, but also for knowledge. You think that I am a monster, or some disease to be studied and then eradicated. You think that I am the unnatural product of evil and madness. You want to know what makes me vile, what makes me me."

There was much passion in his voice. He was speaking from his heart, from an abyss that I had never seen before. At that moment, I was about to gaze into it and see a measure of its depth.

Lavidean's smile shrank but still remained as a self-satisfied curve of his mouth. "Shall I show you?" he asked. "Let you see a measure of what I have seen?" As he spoke, he lifted his left arm and extended an outstretched hand toward me.

I felt something like a hot, muggy breeze as the currents of the Force began to move, commanded by his will, and instantly a terrible sensation of physical sickness grew in my body. My eyelids felt heavy and my view of Lavidean and the fire was broken by black spots. A tingling, buzzing sensation spread through my body. Worse, my mind was being affected. The topics that I was thinking of – my arm, my lost friend, my questions – seemed to peel away from my consciousness, like my mind was being cleared.

I swayed and tightened my grip on my sword to stay upright. Trying to focus my eyes on Lavidean. "What are you doing?" I groaned. "Stop this!" Yet even my words had begun to sound very far away, and a numbness beginning in my head was spreading fast. Lavidean did not reply. I felt almost like I was dying, like my essence in the Force was being lifted from my body and carried elsewhere, far, far away...

Before too long I came back to my senses, but I was not myself.

I stood in the living room of some moderately-sized house. Its walls, painted a sort of light chamoisee. Smoldering orange light from Rutan's falling sun poured in through two windows to the right, projecting a pair of fiery squares onto the opposite wall, which was dominated by an entirely-filled bookcase reaching to the ceiling, two shelves which were populated by an assortment of urns, vases, and nicknacks. Between the two windows on the wall to the right was a fireplace flanked by two wing chairs. Other pieces of furniture dotted the room between myself and the far wall, which was split by a wide doorway leading to the kitchen.

As though in a dream or perhaps a trance, I took in this ordinary sight. There was something wrong with me. I tried to turn my head and take a step forward, but could not. In my peripheral vision I could see that I was wearing robes of a darker brown than I was accustomed to wearing. I also felt like I had grown an inch or so in height. This body was not my own, and I did not control it.

I was living someone else's memory. Obviously, I would not be able to change anything that had already occurred. The feeling that I did not belong in this body made sense now, but still disturbed me.

But the state of my mind was worse.

Lavidean Dargus took a step forward. I mimicked the movement, perfectly in sync, and despaired. Out of nowhere I felt lost beyond words, like a single blade of grass in a field that grows and dies, remembered by no one. Lavidean Dargus was not only dejected, however – he was angry, furious at everything, and I felt his fury as though it was my own. I felt a burning anger that did not belong to me, yet reminded me of when Euthsia died – that outrage at how suddenly and easily it happened. It was staggeringly strong, though, seeming to cloud my thoughts, which was the only thing I did have control over. I felt almost as though my consciousness would be incinerated by such anger.

I tried to jerk off to the side and wrench myself free, but did not move a muscle in either direction. Instead, Lavidean took another step forward. I extended my Force sense – no, he did – and sensed another presence in the house, approaching from the hallway that began near the far left corner of the room.

Unbidden by any will of mine, my head turned to look out the window. The familiar streets of Sparla were empty of pedestrians, for one reason or another. My gaze was then returned to the living room as a woman stepped through the doorway. She was slender, shorter than myself, or rather, shorter than Lavidean, and looked to be in her thirties – which for some reason reminded me that Lavidean was about forty-three at this time. Her round, bright face was lacking in freckles, and the color of her hair matched her rusty brown eyes.

Her gaze met mine, and I wanted to stagger backward. Instead, my entire vision became blurred and brightened to a painful glare, except for the woman, who remained in sharp focus even as the rest of the world turned to a mass of starflares. As this happened the anger evaporated, replaced by a feeling that drove a spike through my mind's eye: one of elation and boundless felicity at a piercing epiphany, followed by a vague curiosity.

When the curiosity set in, something was different, and I do not mean the change in my vision. As though a metaphorical switch had been flipped, the mind whose emotions I was feeling had changed, broken and reformed itself. I saw Lavidean's wife begin to speak, but could not hear her. Instead I thought – not heard, but thought – a question that did not belong to me.

What would it be like if..?

Though the thought was technically incomplete, some part of me immediately knew what was going to happen. For this reason I spoke to myself within my mind, This is not me. I did not dare think what might happen if I did not remind myself.

A hand that was not mine lifted, and the Force's power flexed. Books exploded out of the bookcase, fragile pottery and other items cracked and broke apart, and an unseen hand lifted the woman from the floor by the throat.

''This is not me. This is not me.''

The same hand that was not truly mine flicked to the right, flinging her into the kitchen and against a cabinet with a crack. Lavidean moved again, striding after her like a cat after a cornered mouse, his ears deaf to her whimpers. My hands – No, Lavidean's hands, I insisted, Not mine – lifted and beckoned the Force again, and an assortment of items in the room – plates, a painting on the wall, glasses, and so on – turned into impromptu missiles that struck the stunned figure on the floor with nauseating efficiency.

My mantra changed. I could not by any stretch bear what I was seeing and now silently screamed, ''Stop, Dargus! Stop!''

He did not stop. He flicked a hand again, and again the sound of breaking caramic rang through the kitchen as his wife struck another cabinet and fell to the floor again. As I realized that Lavidean's elation still forcefully permeated my thoughts, he raised his left hand again and made a fist. The gesture was immediately answered by the discord of bones cracking. Thenceforth, his wife's body – bloodied, torn, maimed in such a way that immediately reminded me of Euthsia – was still.

My mind was spinning, shrivelling with terror and revulsion. In my mind I asked, Why, Dargus?

From my mind – no, Dargus' mind – came a non-answer: I did it.

I thought, not for the first time on this mission, that I would die – or more importantly that I should die. A remote part of me honestly felt as though there was something inherently, fundamentally wrong with me now that I had seen this part of the universe and that I therefore should no longer exist in it. I was completely at a loss. That sense of accomplishment, that joy at this hideous act – how could it even exist?

And what was that peculiar feeling in my stomach?

I tried to shake my head in agitation, but obviously could not. It was not a peculiar feeling – it was simply hunger, the body's way of asking for physical sustinance. Lavidean's thoughts interrupted my own again, but this time in a more coherent, if brief, stream than before. I felt a rejuvenated curiosity that sobered his newfound pride. He was thinking about hunger, too, which sort of made sense – after all, it was his body – but of what importance was it?

So many things are different now, he thought. What if..?

I saw through Lavidean's eyes as he looked to a nearby counter, then to the body, and then to the counter again. I felt through his right hand as he reached for and grasped a large carving knife. Immediately after he did so, there was a prickling sensation somewhere within his head which suggested to him that someone nearby was rushing off to inform someone else of the commotion. He would have to leave very soon.

I knew what the man was about to consider. Do not dare, I thought.

Still, Lavidean thought obliviously, There is just enough time for a little...

That thought trailed off as he bent down over the corpse, knife in hand. My consciousness raged and screamed and thrashed about, but in vain – I was trapped in this skin of evil. What I was seeing was not helping to answer my question of why Lavidean was what he was, but at that moment I no longer cared in the slightest. I only wanted it to stop.

It did not stop until Lavidean was leaping from rooftop to rooftop as dusk began to fall over Sparla.

With a sort of great snap within my mind, full sensation returned to my body. I was back in the plains of Rutan, kneeling next to a roaring bonfire and a deadly enemy who was eyeing me, looking satisfied with himself.

I immediately obeyed my first impulse: I screamed. Or tried to, at least – all I managed was a pained, retching, gagging sound, but I felt a small iota better for having made the effort. Failing that, I clutched my sword in both hands – nearly cutting myself on it in my single-minded desparation – and practically hugged it, swaying back and forth and whimpering to myself like a traumatized child, my eyes closed. I could not stop shaking.

Jedi Master Lavidean Dargus. Not only a murderer, but a cannibal?

On any other night it would have been unthinkable. Now, nothing was unthinkable. I felt sick again – more so than I ever had before in my entire life, more so even than when I saw the visions of the dead less than an hour before, more so than when I saw my disciple's ruined body. I had no idea why I was unable to vomit and wished that I could – I could not shake the feeling that some horrible thing was in me and had to be excised. I thought again that my death would not result from a physical blow by my enemy, but by this place itself, that the soil beneath me would swallow me whole.

One of my earlier questions was answered. My foe was indeed a beast, no longer a man – the former merely wore the latter's skin.

When Lavidean ended the silence, I flinched and my eyes snapped open. "Do you see now? His voice was mild again, no longer sounding particularly prideful.

I was past the point of Jedi restraint; the floodgates were open. Without a word I jerked my wounded arm free and extended it toward Lavidean, creating an enormous vise in my mind's eye and clenching it tight around him with every ounce of power that I could summon. I visualized that power crushing his bones like rotten wood beneath the treads of a tank. Lavidean raised one hand in return, throwing a protective cocoon around himself. My vice ground against it and I snarled at him, applying so much energy that I almost felt that the sealed wound in my arm would burst open like a balloon.

After straining against each other for some time, our powers had spent themselves for the moment and withdrew. In between gasps, I growled, "Do I see what?"

He shook his head angrily. "That question tells me that you do not," he declared. He began to say something else, but I interrupted him.

"You are a cannibal," I said, speaking the word as though it were an expletive. "And that is what you have done with the people you kill here, why so few bodies are found. You eat, and then you cast what is left of them into the pits you dig. That also is why you never take any of their supplies. That is how you sustain yourself."

He gave me an expression of mild confusion, as though taken aback by the change in topic. "It is," he replied. "Since the first time, I have experimented with various methods, both of consumption and of disposal. Some of them I burn before discarding, some not. Often I cook, but not always. And some I finish, but others I fancy only a little of. It depends on my preference at the time. In the end, though, it is simply how I continue to live. There is little else to it than that."

"Why? Why the killing? What happened to you?" I demanded.

He replied at first only with a glare which was first aimed at my eyes and then sank to the ground. The accursed, infuriating silence fell between us again for a time. He seemed to be searching for the right words – a grave mistake if there ever was one, as there were no right words in this situation. The distant storm was now much less distant, its outermost clouds spreading across the sky above us like gargantuan tentacles. The random symphony of thunder continued.

At last Lavidean looked up. "Do you believe in fate, Morgent? Destiny? The will of the Force?"

Hearing him address me by my first name made me want to strike at him with the Force again, but I knew that such an effort would be useless. "Of course," I answered indignantly.

"You should not. Our Jedi Masters taught us that every being has a purpose in the galaxy. No matter what size, shape and consistency any given purpose is, we know that it exists."

"And?" I asked impatiently.

"And it is only a product of institution, of 'civilization'," Lavidean replied bitterly. "Meaningless words used to describe meaningless habits that we shackle ourselves with so that we may live and die in a routine of blind, hypnotized comfort. It is a perverse mockery of our basic nature if there ever was one."

He paused here. I only stared back at him, so he went on.

"You underestimate my experience, Jedi Knight Kelbus – it has guided me to this conclusion. I have fought in wars. Many lives have been extended and cut short for my having affected them. I have seen other people's dreams be realized, destroyed, and simply changed. Politics, economy, cities, government, even language – I have seen that they are all artificial, temporary constructs. They will pass with time, as our bodies do."

I almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his words. "This is your excuse?" I fumed. "A pathetic tract about existence being meaningless? How does this in any way explain what you have done?"

"I am not saying that there is no meaning, Jedi Knight Kelbus," he replied quickly. "Only that sapient beings have a terrible habit of... overanalyzing things. It was when I realized this that I realized that I had to kill the woman. It was to free myself."

" 'The woman?' " I growled. Had he truly purged himself of even the dimmest afterimages of fundamental decency?

"Yes. Marriage is another mark of the network of chains we build around ourselves. It is only after we destroy what we pretend to care for that we then are free to see what is truly worth caring about."

"Which is?"

He seemed to think this question over for several seconds. "Endurance. To endure, to exist. There is no greater purpose that we are called to, Jedi Knight Kelbus; this is all that we are or ever should be."

There was one particular flaw in his argument that I suspected might make an iota of sense to him. "Then explain the existence of the Force," I challenged. "Why do only some of us feel and use it?"

To my disappointment, Lavidean shrugged and answered immediately. "Why?" he repeated. "Who is to say? There is no more point in asking about why the Force exists than in asking why matter exists. The Force is. There is nothing more."

He had no answer, but did not care. I was not surprised.

I checked my arm. The stinging had faded even further. "Why are you bothering to tell me this?" I asked. "Do you think to take me as a student, create some parody of a Jedi tradition?"

He looked disgusted. "Of course not," he snapped. "I am only explaining myself to you because you have asked me to. You will not live to escape these ruins. Do you wish to do battle, now? There is little else to explain."

Though I did wish to fight very much, I decided to try to satisfy my curiosity one last time. "You have explained nothing to me," I hissed. "You say that you have seen and experienced things that have shown you that there is no will in the Force? Then do share, I implore you! You have only told me what you believe and shown me what you have done. Nothing has been made clear."

"There is... nothing to make clear," He replied like an employee apologizing to a disgruntled customer. "As I said, I am not here to teach you. Were I to go into greater detail, you would refuse to hear me in any case. And it is all a very dull series of stories, anyway – ancient history, as far as I am concerned. There is nothing more to me than what I have shown already. What else could you wish to see?"

The storm's outer edge was just beginning to pass over us now. Flecks of rain began to fall upon my face and robes, and the thunder roared at us as though tired of our long-winded and ultimately fruitless debate. I glanced into the sky after a particularly piercing burst of lightning. When Lavidean's gaze met mine again, my mind was made up.

"I wish nothing more than to see you dead and your miserable flesh given to the beasts of these plains."

Lavidean smirked again. "More threats? Has your Jedi peace not returned yet?"

I stared at him and wished for the first time in my life that a look which conveyed a sufficiently strong emotion could destroy a man. "No," I replied. "You have killed it. I will avenge it and every innocent you have slaughtered."

Lavidean's voice took an overtly mocking tone, dropping all pretense. "It seems you still have much to learn, young apprentice," he said slily, reaching for his sword. He ascended to his feet like a giant rising from beneath an ocean. "Vengeance is not the way of the Jedi."

"No," I admitted, rain beginning to dampen my hair. "But justice is. It will be done tonight."

My words seemed to banish Lavidean's smile, an effect which I was grateful for, and he shifted to a fencer's stance, his blade held at his side and pointed down. "So you say," he replied, inclining his head. "On guard, Jedi."

The rain grew heavier and I began to feel it soaking through my robes. I rose, wrenched my sword from the earth, and matched my opponent's stance. We took several seconds to draw on the Force again. I was amazed as power flowed back into me – I felt like a different person from that morning, like I had died and was being reborn. Reborn as what, I could not yet say.

The sky was skewered by a single bolt of lightning. As the thunder reached us, we both moved at once.

As it turned out, our second duel was much less grandiose than the first. Both of us were still in states of exhaustion, both from our previous exertions and our wounds. For my part, I was forced to fight with my right hand more than with both for fear of undoing my Force healing. He also seemed to be holding himself back a bit for the same reason. We only occasionally channeled additional power into our blades, instead focusing on keeping ourselves balanced and in the fight.

I used every ounce of strength I possessed. I hated Lavidean for what he had become, I was furious at myself for my arrogance and carelessness, I was in pain from the loss of my friend, and I was terrified of what this mission would mean for me. However, I had another feeling in greater excess than any of those: pure, unstifled zeal for atonement. I could not fix the mistakes of the past, for they were set in time forever, but I could atone by preventing similar ones in the future. The first step in my redemption would be to see this mission to its end.

With this resolve I kept the offensive, channeling everything that I had into my blows and pressing Lavidean further and further back. We were twenty paces from the fire before he recomposed himself and counter-attacked.

We planted ourselves in the ground as the storm roared above us and soaked us to our skin. Every chop, block, and parry was done half-blind; we relied heavily on the Force to guide our weapons, but our strength in the Force was weakened, our perceptions dulled and our reflexes sapped. Bit by bit I felt my powers fading until I could only barely sense the space a dozen or so meters around us, could only intercept his blade just in time.

He met my attacks blow for blow now, taking advantage of the full use of both of his hands. At first my primarily one-handed strikes could not quite penetrate his defenses, but he was having no more success than I; his long, powerful chops I was able to sidestep, and his faster cuts and thrusts I managed to halt. Both of us were using our strength too quickly, but I had just a bit more to spend than him.

I felt Lavidean's patience and thrill for battle give way to frustration and agitation. He let his guard down and went for a killing blow in the form of a horizontal two-handed slash that would take my shoulders and head off. Seeing him pull his blade back in preparation for the swing, I was able to duck under it and retaliate with a sweeping cut at his side, where I had wounded him earlier. My timing was perfect, and the blade cut far deeper than it had the first time.

Lavidean howled in pain as he fell back, staggering. Within flashes of lightning I could see his visage twisted in boundless rage and determination. I knew that he would be defiant to the end, preferring death over being taken prisoner, but I had no intention of taking him prisoner regardless. The Jedi have always taught to not end life if it can be avoided, but even if it could be avoided, I felt in my heart that to do so would not be justice, especially for Lavidean's prior victims. Sometimes blood calls only for more blood, I supposed.

I lunged, striking high. Lavidean blocked high, stopping my sword well before it would have reached him, but he was unprepared as I rushed forward and leveled a knee strike to his gut. As it impacted, I felt a popping sensation and a burst of fresh pain as the wound in my arm reopened. Even as the limb suffered and fell uselessly to my side, I ignored it any pressed the advantage. I had to end this here.

Lavidean fell with a cry, and I was on him before he could attempt to regain his footing. I slashed from left to right, aiming for his upper torso. Propping himself up with his right hand, he awkwardly blocked from his left, and only just. I repeated my attack again and again, trying to empty every ounce of savagery, of hate, of evil that I felt within me. With every clang of our blades he grew weaker. The second blow scored a cut across his upper abdomen and drove him further to the muddy ground. He was barely able to even attempt to block the third, which sliced deeper into his stomach. It was not enough; my sword hungered for more blood, and I would satisfy it. With the fourth blow I struck my adversary's head from his shoulders.

Blood pooled in the spot where Lavidean's body lay, the sword released from its lifeless fingers. Thrown off-balance by the sheer momentum of my killing strike, I staggered back several feet and allowed myself to collapse, falling heavily to the soaked earth. The torrential rain now fell like an avalanche that chilled my bones and battered my face and my eyes, blinding me – not to say that there was much to see. The only thing that my senses provided was the storm itself, its lightning reminding me of fireworks and its thunder seeming like the roar of applause from a spectating crowd.

I lay there in the rain waiting to die, shivering, trembling with shock. In every sense of the word, it was over. The mission and my life. Lavidean was dead, and the black stain in the Force that he had brought to these ruins would fade with time. Euthsia was dead, as well, murdered by Lavidean because I had foolishly ignored Master Vinere's advice. I felt as though my spirit was completely and utterly dead, as well.

Lavidean had been right about more than I was willing to admit while he was alive. He had been right about at least one thing: I was like him. My boundless, frenzied rage at Euthsia's death and my desecration of the tombs were impulsive, animal acts. I had felt the dark side that he drew upon, and I had felt the madness, or whatever other quality he possessed that had made him different from any mere Dark Jedi – that primal, beastly state of mind.

Worse, for the first time I saw evidence that he was right about the Force and destiny – almost out of pure chance had I not accepted Master Vinere's offer of assistance, and likewise by pure chance had I let my guard down at the critical moment. Because of that, my disciple was now dead, killed without the great sacrifice that he deserved to be able to provide in his death. What sort of destiny was that?

And Lavidean Dargus had been a great Jedi Master, years in the past. But all of that was undone so quickly, and I would never know what had driven him to become the monster he was. All I would know was that if it could happen to the best of us, it could happen to anyone, even me.

The mission was complete, but it felt entirely empty. I was here alone in the storm with my loss and my evil. How could I possibly go on?

Astonishingly, the answer came immediately, when I remembered the things that I had felt during the battle mere moments ago. There was hope. Hope for redemption, hope for those coming after me. Hope for the future, in other words. I could not let myself die here. I needed to live and to move on. It would only be the end if I gave up.

But how was I to get out of this predicament? My left arm still throbbed with pain. There was no telling how much time I had left.

Another memory from the recent past, from my meeting with the governor's official, surged to the forefront of my thoughts. Reaching into one of the deeper pockets of my robe, I drew out a small, round object only slightly larger than my thumb and held it before my face. As I stared at it through squinted eyes, I did the unthinkable.

I smiled. It was thin, weak, somewhat forced, and even a bit painful, but it was a smile. It was real. There was a way out, after all.

I pressed the only button on the device. The darkness and howling of the storm were penetrated by a burning red circular light and a single mechanical chirp, indicating that the emergency beacon was transmitting my position back to Sparla. Entering a Jedi healing trance again, I threw the last of my energy around myself and let the Force hold me tight, until the whine of a shuttle's engines reached my ears and a searchlight broke through the shadows.

''It has only been a week since my mission on Rutan. Some things have been made clear to me since then.''

''True to the city official's word, I was indeed promptly extracted from the ruins by Rutan's security forces. I know that there are some pessimists in the galaxy who say that we Jedi are the ones who decide what is accomplished in everything while the rest live and die in vain; they could not be more wrong. If not for the unpowered ones whom we serve, we would never be able to exist. I, for my part, would have died in those ruins with my enemy.''

''I have personally delivered a full report of my mission to the Council on Tython, whose members have commended me for discovering the fate of Lavidean Dargus, for ending the threat on Rutan, and for ultimately resisting the corruption there. Still, the loss of Master Dargus is a grave tragedy for the Order, and I suspect that his story will one day serve as one of the more grisly examples for future Jedi of what we must always guard against.''

''As I noted above, some things have already become clear since my departure from Rutan; yet, some things have not. One of the former is the realization of my own failures as a Jedi. I was so sure of myself and of my disciple, of our prowess. Despite my years of experience and training, I could not have been less prepared to face Dargus – I thought that we were prepared for anything, yet at the same time truly did not believe that we would seriously be in danger. I vastly overestimated the value of both my disciple's training and of my own power and experience. There is an old saying which goes that wisdom begins with the realization that ones holds none of it; I cannot think of a time in my life where that would apply with greater force. I do indeed have much to learn.''

''As any man of honor would do, I took the news of Euthsia's death to his family personally. They all received it surprisingly well and consider him to have willfully given his life in the line of duty – except for his cousin Susanna, who has vowed to kill me if she ever sees me again. So I do not believe that I will be returning to Rutan again. As for the Jedi Order, it will mourn with me for my friend. It will also help me to train myself so that the mistakes of the past may stay in the past.''

''Lavidean's words about purpose still assail me. While I now know how truly unprepared we were, I still think that I might have been able to save my friend, had I not by pure chance turned my back to him at the crucial moment. That much is clear to me, but I will put the thought to rest, for what is done is done. And while I obviously do not believe what Lavidean told me, I fear that long years from now in my moments of weakness, of doubt, I will hear him again chastizing me, mocking, whispering...''

''I still wonder what could possibly have driven Lavidean to his madness, to shed his humanity and roam the ruins as a beast in disguise. Was it simply the dark side? No, I suspect. Jedi have fallen to the darkness before – the Order has its heretics, its betrayers who have forsaken the true path for ones of vice, blood, and debauchery. But I have never heard of any who were quite like this one. He had an evil far more exotic than a simple lust for power. His was primal, base, a very simple one by comparison.''

''So, was it the dark side? Yes, but something more as well. I felt its power boiling within him and churning through the ruins, but it seemed to be, for lack of better words, mixed with something else. I do not know what the missing element is – perhaps it had been within him all along, or perhaps it was indeed something he saw during his travels. Whatever it is, I suspect that Dargus has taken this secret with him to his death. For the moment I am content with not knowing, but I also feel that a part of me already knows all too well. In a way, I was indeed killed and reborn there on Rutan. I fought his darkness and destroyed it, but he brought out darkness in me that had been hidden. I have been wounded, and only time can tell if I will ever be fully healed.''

''Another thing of importance occurs to me. After everything that has happened, I fear for the future of our Order. I am still struck with awe by the revelation that one of our best could fall so far and without warning. I worry for the future, for our growing, training Jedi Knights, and cannot help but wonder if we as an Order are truly ready to face the evil forces that stalk the galaxy. I was not prepared for my encounter with Dargus, and I fear that for all of the deaths he caused and for all of the injuries that he inflicted, he is only a shadow of the things to come; that there are greater evils hiding among the stars that will come for us one day. We must be prepared, must be strong enough.''

''In any case, I have decided to take a leave of absence from the Order for a time, to allow myself to recover from my experiences on Rutan. I did brush the dark side and nearly lose a part of myself to whatever had claimed Dargus, and must regain my peace. For this reason I have sought the company of Master Xendor, my old teacher. He is a great man who is full of wisdom; we will discuss the things that I have seen as I regain my strength.''

''When I am ready, I will return to the Order and atone for my mistakes. I will serve with vigilance and with dedication until I have rightfully earned the rank of Jedi Masterhood. I will then train another student, this one a full Jedi apprentice. I will see to it that he or she grows to be strong and wise, far more so than I am now. And if there is indeed a greater evil than Dargus coming for us, then I will do everything in my power to ensure that the Order will be ready, beginning with my apprentice.''

– From the Journal of Morgent Kelbus, Jedi Knight