Title: Flowers that Brightly Blaze
Author: Per'agana (peragana@yahoo.com)
Category: drama, angst, autobiographical– part of a
series including this part, “Shadows
on the Hill”, and “The Winter Chills.”
Rating: PG-13 (believe it or not!)
Setting: one month prior to events in “Tales of the
Jedi: Dark Lords of the Sith”
Summary: A few moments from Exar Kun’s life as a Jedi.

Archive: Sith Chicks, EKEB. Anyone else is welcome to
ask!
Disclaimer: Exar and all the people around him are
George's. I'm just borrowing! I write
for lust, love, and empathy for Exar-- but never for
money, so don't sue me!
Feedback: Please!!!

Notes: I’ve never tried writing Exar in the 1st person
before, but this bunny bit pretty
hard. The lightsaber exercise in this part is from the
SW RPG handbook “Fragments
from the Rim.” This story (and hopefully a couple to
follow it) were inspired jointly by
Jenny Dare’s “Afterlife” and the song “Starry Starry
Night” written by Don McLean and
performed by my favorite angst lady, Vonda Shepard.
The title of this and the next two
parts are from that song–

“Starry starry night
paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer’s day
with eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hill
sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
and how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they’ll listen now

Starry starry night
flaming flowers that brightly blaze
swirling clouds in violet haze...”

*********************************************************************************

I watched in furious dismay as my lightsaber blade
missed the wick and scorched the
candle in front of me. I had practiced for years to
reach this point, the vaunted Fourth
Cadence of lightsaber training– three hundred sixty
candles in a circle around me. I
must light them with my blade in a pattern of strikes
derived from complex mathematical
equations that my Master has taught me. Each strike
may take no more than one fifth of
a second, and my blade must never touch the candle
itself, only the wick. On 51st
equation, I faltered.  I felt the blood pounding
through my veins, a pale reminder of the
burning, ecstatic connection to the Force I’d felt
until my blade missed. Then the Force
had poured out of me in a flood, leaving only the
aftereffects of physical exertion and
the bitter, hollow rage of another disappointment.

I heard Master Vodo sigh behind me. “I do not know
what you attempted to gain by this.
You passed your Third cadence only two weeks ago. You
are not yet ready for this
test.”

I gritted my teeth with frustration. Sylvar is nearing
her Third, I thought. I am Vodo’s
best student, he has told me so endlessly. I must be
ready. I *am* ready, but my body
betrayed me. “I will simply have to train harder,
Master.”

Master Vodo shook his head sadly. “You already train
too hard, Exar Kun. You will soon
exhaust your physical resources. And the Force is
about so much more than just
lightsaber skill. If only you were as eager to show
your proficiency in your works of
service to others as you are with your lightsaber...”
He broke off, sighing deeply to show
his dissatisfaction with me. “Get some rest, my son.
Tomorrow I have a mission for us
all.”

I watched him turn and walk away, then I turned and
watched the blazing sun of
Dantooine set over the far hills. For a long moment I
wondered what it would be like to
be out there somewhere, beyond the reach of this
planet. Beyond the smothering grasp
of my Master and his apprentices and their endless
exercises in how to use the Force
to be at “peace.” To be free, with the Force as my
only guide and companion. The ruby
glow of the dying sun seemed to offer up that promise
to me, a living symbol of
something indefinable that called to me from somewhere
just beyond my hearing,
something that offered a freedom as sweet as the
ripest nectar. If only I could ride that
crimson band until the lowering night brought the
stars into my reach...I could grasp
one, and simply vanish. How pleasing and scintillating
an idea, I thought.

A rustle and a soft moan shattered my reverie. I
turned, tracking the sound until I saw
two figures outlined in the fading light. My lip
curled in a sneer of disgust as I watched
my fellow apprentices rutting on the grass like a pair
of instinct-driven farm animals.
Pleasure has its place, I thought, but how could
anyone who calls themselves Jedi find
a pleasure greater than that of the Force? Perhaps
their race made them less able to
understand, I wondered briefly before dismissing them
utterly from my mind. I had more
important things to think about, more training to do.

*******************

The next morning my Master, my fellow apprentices, and
I boarded the ship that Master
Vodo had commissioned to take us on our mission. I had
read through the mission
specs at least thrice– a civil war had broken out on a
planet about a day’s journey from
Dantooine. One group felt that they lacked access to
water and land, and had attacked
the group that controlled a greater share of the area.
We were to land, suppress the
violence as peacefully as possible, then help mediate
a settlement.

After reading the mission specs, I had worked with my
lightsaber until my blade and I
were one, cleaving through the air with perfect
fluidity. I had wanted to continue, but my
Master admonished me, telling me to rest lest I
exhaust myself before the mission
began. But the practice only serves to stoke the fire
in me, I had wanted to protest, only
makes me ever the more ready to face anything that
threatens the Jedi.

In the end, I had chosen to remain silent. I was
becoming all too aware of the divide
forming between my Master and I, the appreciation and
kinship with the Force that was
altogether different in me. I knew he could never
understand. He would claim that the
fierce Force that was awakening within me was a call
to the Dark Side. How foolish, I
thought. To assign all that would make a Jedi strong
to the evil side of the Force. I
shook my head in frustration. Surely there is nothing
evil about wanting to excel,
wanting to be strong. Knowing that the Force is about
more than just peace, it’s about
*life*-- and that truly being alive has more in common
with last night’s beautiful, violent
sunset, than with the colorless, pallid existence I’d
been living with them.

I spent the rest of the trip shifting restlessly in
the lounge while my Master worked on
his Holocron and my fellow apprentice Crado held his
mate, Sylvar. I did not show my
disapproval of their constant need to reaffirm their
affections. Master Vodo had seemed
concerned the last time I voiced my thoughts, had told
me that someday I too would
want to feel the comfort of a lover’s touch. I
disagreed, knowing that the destiny of the
Force is all I would ever need. Now, I held in my
irritation. Surely this display would lull
them into a false sense of security, and would blunt
their effectiveness on our mission.

The return to realspace warning buzzer sounded moments
later, relieving me from
thinking about it any further. I strode off the ship
with my fellow Jedi, alert and ready.

We walked down the exit ramp into the remains of a war
zone. We’d landed in the
center of the rebels’ village, and the signs of
destruction were everywhere. The huts of
the villagers lay in tattered remnants, which the
people were trying in vain to hold
together. Dirty water ran in rivers down the streets,
and sickly-looking children scooped
at the puddles, trying to assuage their thirst. I was
appalled at the sight– not only at the
damage, but at the seemingly entrenched poverty.
Surely these people rebelled to gain
what was only their due. Water, food, a roof over
their heads that was more than a
leaky shack. I recalled the holos of the planet from
the mission report, its small but
bright and prosperous cities. It seemed that these
villagers had seen little of that side of
the planet. I walked along grimly, following the other
Jedi through the wreckage.

Two men in slightly better clothing than the people
I’d so far seen stepped in front of
Master Vodo. They greeted us, expressed their pleasure
that the Republic had sent the
Jedi to intervene. They led us to a medium-sized
building with dingy, crumbling mortar
and cracked steps. This was serving as their village
hall of government, they told us.
They sat at a table, invited Master Vodo to join them.
I listened as they described how
the dominant people of this part of the planet, the
ones who built the gleaming cities,
had exiled them to the wilds because their beliefs
were different. Unwilling to surrender
their values and their religion, these people had for
many years clung to a meager
existence from the land they had been allotted.

Now, the cities were running out of water. To solve
their problem, they dammed the
rivers these people depended on for survival. Furious
at having the water they so
desperately needed stolen from them, after all the
years of surviving the other slights,
they attacked the people in power. Dozens of
devastated villages like these were the
result when the outcasts’ desperation met the
technology and wealth of the city-
builders.

I listened in frustration as Master Vodo spoke to them
about the need to disarm, that
violence would never solve their problems. He offered
to mediate to get their water back
in exchange for peace. The leaders’ shoulders slumped.
Clearly they had been
expecting more. They reluctantly told Master Vodo they
would accept his proposal. As
he led Crado, Sylvar, and I from the building, I could
no longer suppress my outrage.

“Master Vodo, how can you tell them not to fight?
These people have clearly been
suffering for decades. How can the Jedi simply let
this go on?”

Master Vodo looked both saddened by the situation and
irritated with me for bringing it
up where the villagers could possibly hear. “There are
limits to what even the Jedi can
do, Exar Kun. We cannot correct every instance of
unfairness in the galaxy. We can
only help to bring peace where it is most needed.”

“That is nothing but an empty platitude,” I argued.
“If the Jedi truly cared about the
rights of these people, they would have sent us here
long ago instead of leaving us
under your guidance on Dantooine to just sit around
contemplating the Force, Master.” I
said his title with derision, furious at his
hypocrisy.

“That will be enough! There is a reason for all that
the Jedi do, which you would grasp if
you weren’t so impatient. When we are at peace with
the Force, we *truly* understand,
instead of being pulled about by our emotions. There
are two sides to this conflict here,
and your anger blinds you to one of them. *That* is
why we teach that anger is not the
way, Exar Kun. Perhaps you would understand better if
you contemplated the rest of
our mission in silence.”

I started to speak, but held my tongue, knowing it
would do little good. But I wanted to
protest. Anger has its value, I thought. If someone
had been outraged enough at the
plight of these people a long time ago, they wouldn’t
be living in poverty now. They
wouldn’t be fighting this war. I wondered if the years
of Jedi training had somehow
blinded Master Vodo to understanding the benefit of
emotion.

I followed my Master back into the ship. We touched
down next in the center of one of
the cities. As I had expected, where the village
showed little but poverty, the city wore
its prosperity proudly. They made their wealth at the
expense of the other people, I
thought bitterly, but said nothing.

The leaders of the city met with us, expressing their
interest in seeing the conflict
ended. Master Vodo offered to send them Republic
technology on water management if
they would return the river to the villagers. What
about the Republic aid for the villagers,
I thought silently. What do they gain? I began to
wonder if the Jedi truly served the
cause of everyone, or only those with means.

The leaders took their time, but eventually agreed to
the proposal. I joined Master Vodo
and my fellow apprentices as we walked out of the
city. Crado and Sylvar congratulated
him for brokering peace on the world, but I
deliberately walked behind them. I wasn’t
willing to trust myself to speak, for I knew my words
would not be pleasant.

Instead, I concentrated on the sights around me as we
walked back to the ship. Cities
of any size were unfamiliar to me, and I drank in the
atmosphere of this place with rabid
curiosity. The city pulsed with life, and flowed with
the Force. Like the sunset, it was
both a beautiful and terrifying place. I fancied that
acts of creation and destruction alike
were occurring at a dizzying pace. In a way I felt at
home in this environment, but at the
same time I found the noise and chaos repressive.
Nowhere to ponder, strategize, and
reflect, I thought. I hadn’t realized how much I
valued that aspect of Dantooine’s
comparative barrenness.

A stray current in the cacophonous Force-energy of the
place forced into my thoughts.
This Force-stream was jagged, violent, out of place. I
didn’t wait to see if Master Vodo
and the two Cathar had felt it or not– something had
to be done, and I was a Jedi. My
course was simple. I ran quickly around the corner,
tracking the aberrant sensation.

I paused at a narrow alleyway. Here, I thought, the
anger stems from here. Anger,
and...fear. Strong fear. Just then I heard a sharp,
feminine scream. I whipped my
lightsaber from its hilt and ignited it with a
snap-hiss, plunging into the darkness of the
alley.

The ice-blue blade lit my surroundings, illuminating
the figure of a man beating a young
woman, trying to drag her behind him. I leapt in front
of him. “Let her go!” I yelled, my
lightsaber at the ready.

“She’s my wife, and what I do with her is none of your
concern, offworlder!” the man
yelled back. His voice was slurred with drink, but the
anger and violence still glimmered
in his narrowed eyes. He suddenly eased his grasp on
his wife, and shoved her hard,
sending her tumbling behind him. With his other hand
he reached into his belt,
lightning-fast for someone who seemed so intoxicated,
and pulled out a short, deadly
vibroblade.

The sense of challenge rocketed through my body like
stray electricity. “You will pay,” I
said to him, my voice a low, cold growl that I barely
recognized.  I lunged toward him,
angling my lightsaber strike on a path designed to
decapitate. Suddenly, a stick came
out of nowhere and blocked my shot.

Master Vodo jumped from the darkness, a quick, sure
strike with his staff knocking the
lightsaber from my hand, and the vibroblade from the
hand of my attacker. “Cease,
Exar Kun! Anger is not the way!” he said to me.

I stood facing him, breathing hard not from exertion,
but from the effort to control my
rage. He was right, I thought, a Jedi was not supposed
to be ruled by anger. I watched
him walk toward the other man, and place his hand on
the drunken man’s shoulder
without any resistance. He murmured something to the
man, then slowly let him slump
to the ground, apparently asleep.

Master Vodo then turned and walked back to me, picking
my lightsaber off the ground
and handing it back to me. “What did you do?” I asked
him.

“I helped to relieve the intoxication invading his
body, and then I implanted a suggestion
by affecting his mind. He will find it difficult to
attack her again.”

I nodded, momentarily chastened but still uneasy. We
boarded the ship and left the
planet without further incident. The Republic would
deal with enforcing the agreement
that Master Vodo had introduced. My Master and my
fellow apprentices engaged in
animated conversation on the flight back, but I
refused to join them. Master Vodo
approved of my decision to spend time in
contemplation, hoping it would bring me to
“greater understanding.”

He was wrong. If anything, I was more certain that my
actions were right. What if the
suggestion that Master Vodo had placed in that abusing
drunk’s mind wore off? Who
would protect his wife then? If I could have done
anything differently, it would have
been to find a way to urge his wife to learn to defend
herself. I found his actions
disgusting, but I also found hers equally pathetic.
She should have killed him long ago.

I was momentarily surprised to find my thoughts
leading in that direction, but as I
considered it, it seemed ever more correct. Clearly
his life had little value. Depriving him
of it could only better those around him. Somehow, I
felt that I’d found a new resolve,
that my thoughts and the Force flowing through me were
becoming more and more in
step with each other. Perhaps I didn’t always agree
with Master Vodo, but this *was* his
goal– to bring his apprentices more in tune with the
Force. And I was, after all, his best
student. It seemed natural that I would accomplish
this goal first.

***************************************

Two days after we returned from the mission, I again
found myself on the hill
overlooking our compound. Once more, I contemplated
the fierce beauty of the sunset.
As my thoughts roamed freely, I found myself recalling
the rebellious villagers on the
planet we’d left. They were willing to fight to guard
beliefs that were different. Perhaps
they and I were more similar than I had thought. I
thought of all the times recently when
I’d felt empowered to stand up to Master Vodo and
state what I truly thought. As I
relived these moments, I realized that there was one
I’d been avoiding thinking about.
I’d resisted it so strongly, I was almost unaware that
it was there. But I could resist no
longer.

Master Vodo had been teaching to us about the pitfalls
of the Dark Side, talking about
the feared ones. Those of the Dark Side that had
destroyed so much of what the Jedi
had built, that had been so horrible that their name
had become a curse word.

The Sith.

I hadn’t reacted with fear and foreboding. If
anything, the word had danced tantalizingly
in my mind. I knew this was the ultimate taboo, so I
locked my curiosity up inside my
mind as tightly as I could. But I could not keep it
there forever. As I thought about it, I
began to wonder if the Sith had been demonized because
they simply had different
beliefs, like the beleaguered villagers in my mission.
Well, I was aware now that,
compared to my Master, I had different beliefs. I also
knew that Master Vodo had been
recording some of the history of the Sith in his
Holocron.

As I watched the last of the day’s light bleed into
the distant mountains, I began to form
a new resolve. I would no longer bury my curiosity
about the Sith. I would research
them, and I would start with the Holocron. The last
tendrils of red seemed to snake
back in the sky toward me, like bright, burning
flowers intent on letting me know I was
on the right path– the one that would take me beyond
this place and into the freedom
that had to exist somewhere out there.

***fin***