Seridan was about fifteen feet from the edge of the quarry. In front of him, Keirdagh Taldrya Cantor stood overlooking the quarry. He seemed oblivious to Seridan’s presence and looked intrigued by something down in the basin.
He wasn’t sure what to do. How could a mere Padawan do any damage to a man like him? The Proconsul stood about a head taller than Seridan, his shoulders broad and his physique looked to be in perfect form. The flight suit he wore maintained a few scratches, but was largely undamaged. His ornate lightsaber hanged from his belt and a blade of brilliant blue sapphire was in his left hand. Its hilt was a dark stormy grey, made from mandalorian iron.
However, Seridan could feel the dark side power radiating from the basin. It was calling to be found; calling to be used once more. Seridan couldn’t let that fall into the hands of a man like Keirdagh. He’d heard stories about the man. Stories that implied his immense power and strength. It was those stories that filled Seridan with dread. He couldn’t let him get it. He had to try, but he needed help.
He turned and started to walk away slowly, to escape detection by the Master.
“Do you really think a person like me would have missed your presence?” A deep voice boomed, belonging to the Dark Jedi Master. “I can’t let you leave. Come here.”
Seridan turned back to find Keirdagh facing him. His face was scarred like any experienced warrior, but his beard drew Seridan’s attention. Its dark brown colour combined with its solid nature gave Seridan the impression of power and downright superiority. His eyes were hard and sure, unrelenting and merciless. He couldn’t let Seridan leave alive.
Seridan drew his armoury lightsaber from his belt and ignited it. The familiar snap-hiss of the weapon gave him some comfort but it did little to ease his fear. If a man like Keirdagh wanted him dead, then they would have their way.
“I said come here!” he roared. An invisible fist grabbed Seridan and yanked him towards the quarry. He flew through the air, landing just in front of the Corellian. Seridan swung his lightsaber up, trying to catch his opponent unawares.
The attempt failed as Keirdagh moved his blade to knock the lightsaber aside. Seridan almost lost his grip on his weapon due to the force of the parry. In a smooth transition, his opponent brought his blade up and cut Seridan’s blindfold. The sharpness of the azure sapphire sliced through the fabric easily. The covers fell from around his head and fell uselessly to the floor. The swing had also cut his nose, but he didn’t notice. He was in a fight for his life. Small scrapes and cuts were nothing when death was so probable.
Seridan gripped his lightsaber hard with both hands and brought it in front of his body in a defensive stance. He hoped that it would be enough.
His enemy stood upright, shoulders relaxed and a grim smile playing on his face. He was just having fun; playing with his inferior playtoy. There was no anger, no rage: just pure, merciless killing. Seridan got the distinct feeling that Keirdagh only fought Seridan to add to his kill-count.
Seridan couldn’t afford to get angry or caught up in the battle. It made people predictable. He had to stay on top of his emotions and focus on getting out of it alive.
The sapphire blade was swung a second time. It came towards Seridan at a very rapid pace. It was all he could do to meet the blade, locking them together.
Keirdagh laughed. “Give up, boy. You’re already farkled.”
Seridan couldn’t let his words affect him, but he knew that he couldn’t win this battle.
He gritted his teeth. “I’m not dead yet, Sithspit.”
A roar of laughter erupted from the Master. “Let’s play it your way, lightie.”
Keirdagh broke off the lock, throwing Seridan off balance. He then picked Seridan up and threw him off of the ledge. He landed on the hard rock of the ramp. He rolled, but the impact still jarred his left shoulder and bruised his knees. He turned once more to face the Proconsul, who now stood above him on the ledge. At least now he’d have a few seconds of respite.
He watched as Keirdagh sheathed his sapphire blade and drew his lightsaber. It was ignited, a blinding blade of gold pouring from the hilt. A saber throw was coming. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just did. His emerald blade was raised in preparation.
The Corellian drew back the saber and launched it. It made an impressive arc through the air. Seridan would have admired the skill, if it wasn’t heading towards him. He caught the flying blade on his lightsaber, a brilliant flash of light from their impact.
Seridan expected the blade to return to its master’s hand, but it remained in front of Seridan. Surprised, Seridan didn’t react for a few seconds. When he realised the danger, he moved back into the common defensive stance and twisted his body to make it less of a target.
The golden lightsaber swung towards Seridan’s leg. He sent his own weapon to parry. Seridan wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand against such powers. His shoulder ached, his knees stung and each block or parry sent a tremor through Seridan’s body. His body was starting to lose its strength. It was like it was already accepting defeat.
Death seemed like the only viable option. It was an outcome that Seridan was beginning to accept, but he continued to fight. If the Force was with him, then something great might happen.