Avatar the Last Airbender: Jedi Outcast - Book 1 - Prodigal Butcher

Chapter 13 - The Holocron of Exar Kun

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Chapter 13 - Edit

Purple streaks of plasma sliced through the air, a mesmerizing dance of deadly light. Benjamin stood atop Appa's leathery saddle, his feet steady despite the Bison's graceful maneuvering over a vast canyon. The cliffs, awash in fiery reds and luminous yellows, reached so high they seemed to scrape the heavens themselves.

The labyrinthine caverns of the canyon sprawled beneath them, a complex network of twisting tunnels and hidden depths. Some parts lay shrouded in darkness, their secrets concealed within the abyss.

Ben's face glistened with sweat as he gripped the lightsaber hilt with both hands, the cold metal a reassuring weight in his grasp. The shien form, Form V, was his chosen style—a form he'd studied extensively during his days as a Jedi apprentice and employed widely during the wars. It was his go-to, the familiar rhythm of combat. There was a time when he had ventured into the complexities of Ataru, under Meetra's tutelage, but those lessons had faded with time.

Shien was built on a foundation of the duelist's personal strength, characterized by powerful strikes and resolute cleaves. Benjamin, with his robust and athletic physique, had thrived in its embrace, ultimately mastering it. Though it had been a considerable while since he'd last wielded a lightsaber, his progress had been swift. Relearning was easier than starting from scratch, but it still demanded dedication and effort.

His palms grew clammy, his grip on the blade tightened, and the whirl of the purple plasma heightened, becoming a maelstrom of precise strikes. "Not good enough, not fast enough!" The thought hammered relentlessly in his mind as he executed each move, his boot planted firmly on Appa's back, his gaze unwavering, and his blade weaving a dance of destruction.

Meanwhile, above him, the whispers persisted. Sokka, awestruck, watched Benjamin's skillful execution of swordplay. Yes, the form wasn't flawless, but he had observed the young Jedi's dedication over the past few days. What was even more impressive was how he adapted to fight with only eight fingers.

Aang's gaze was fixed intently on something ahead, his eyes narrowing as he guided Appa into a sudden descent. The abrupt drop sent Benjamin's lightsaber soaring from his grasp, and he tumbled backward onto his back, his weapon gleaming like a silver comet ascending.

"My lightsaber!" Benjamin shouted in dismay. His right hand shot out, catching the metallic hilt just as the sun's rays danced upon it. He extended his hand downwards, the blade hovering midair, then deftly pulled it back toward him.

"Nice," he muttered, his swift crawl toward the top of Appa underway. Momo, agile and alert, scampered toward him, curling his tail around Benjamin's shoulder blade to ensure he remained anchored.

"What's going on?" Benjamin asked, his voice tinged with urgency, a note of confusion mirroring in his features. He cast an impatient glance at Sokka and Katara, the furrowed brows and puzzled expressions mirrored back at him. He felt a sudden urge to shake Aang, force him to explain the situation. Yet, as they pierced through the shroud of clouds, all words hung suspended in midair.

There, unfurling below them, a chilling tableau unfurled in the depths of the canyon. Figures, many of them, assembled in one area. At this distance, they were mere specks in the vast expanse of the landscape, but the sight sent a shiver down Benjamin's spine. His hands instinctively moved to his head, a groan escaping his lips as an odd sickness overcame him.

"Benji?" Katara's soothing voice washed over him, and he waved her concern away with a feeble reassurance. "I'm fine..." he muttered, although honesty compelled him to admit that it was a recent sensation, a peculiar twinge in the back of his mind that had left as swiftly as it arrived. It was a discomforting feeling that lingered, as if a shadow had settled deep within him.