Fallen Jedi: The Descent

Ch.9: Gold

Cal stumbled as he recovered from being shoved into the dojo. Predictably, Trilla took her place on the observation platform.

Just as Cal righted himself, the doors slammed shut. A second later, the other inquisitor lazily strode past him.

The inquisitors said nothing, instead opting to give a disdainful huff as he passed.

I get it, Cal sourly thought at the gesture, you're the big bad tough-guy, and you don't like me.

Trilla didn't pay the posturing inquisitor on the floor and mind as she unclipped Cal's lightsaber from her belt. With a bored nonchalance that hid her impatience just as might as her flat mask did, she tossed the piecemeal saber into the arena below.

"Don't hesitate this time," she shouted down a second before the saber hit the floor with a thud.

As if she were speaking to him, the Fifth Brother charged forward, hissing red saber flashing to life.

Barely able to stand, Cal had no time to make a snarky comment or entertain a weary thought before the inquisitor was upon him.

Cal's usual routine of dodges and sidesteps had helped against the purge troopers. But he'd been in slightly better shape during that fight, and the purge troopers couldn't draw on the Force to guide them through battle.

The Fifth Brother made a heavy swing down with his blade.

Evading it by mere inches, Cal had no time to recover before the inquisitor simply swung out with his free hand.

Taking a heavy blow to his chest, Cal went sprawling backward across the floor. Coming to a harsh stop when the floor turned from smooth duracrete to uneven metal grates over the thermal vents below, Cal was only distantly aware that his head hit something small but dense.

Huffing and coughing for breath, Cal rolled to the side. On hands and knees, he found that the small obstacle had been his lightsaber.

Hand grasped around the weapon, Cal teetered to his feet.

The Fifth Brother had simply waited and watched the display. His assignment wasn't to kill the would-be Jedi, not outright at least.

Seeing his opponent as recovered as he could be, the Fifth Brother strode forward.

"Fight me!" the inquisitor barked as he approached.

Chest aching and already tasting blood, Cal didn't plan on doing as the inquisitor asked. But he didn't see anyway out of the dojo either.

I don't want to die... was the only thought crawling through Cal's head as he ignited his own lightsaber.

The first blade hissed to life, shortly followed by the second. Cal wasn't sure if he were imagining it, or if the dread in the Fortress were draining the life out of the kyber crystals in the blade just as it was doing to him, but the already pale blue of the blade seemed more faded than the last time he'd seen it.

Legs protesting and shoulders grinding in pain at the smallest of movements, Cal settled into a familiar defensive stance.

Seeing it as an invitation, the Fifth Brother came barreling forward once again.

"Your find is weak, Second Sister!" The inquisitor snarled to their observer mid-strike.

Not listening for Trilla's reply, Cal twisted and detached his sabers, bringing them into a defensive X in the nick of time.

The inquisitor's red blade hissed and popped against Cal's pale blue. Wounded and ground down by weeks of torture, Cal pushed back as hard as he could. But his opponent was in his fighting prime, fresh off of some nefarious mission, and driven by dark forces.