Castles Made of Sand

[imported_Terran Starek]

Hi guys! I guess I'm the first to post here. I was checking out some old files in My Documents folder, and I found this one. I wrote it the same summer I joined the boards, and it has been looked at and revised once last year, but I didn't change anything this time. I thought I'd submit it for commentary and suggestions. Feel free to comment--it's relatively short and singled around two major characters: one fictional and the other Mace Windu.

Thanks for taking the time to look it over--I appreciate all comments greatly. :)

Chris






Castles Made of Sand
By Chris


He moved with amazing grace for his sheer size. Grace and power—two attributes that when paired together form a devastating weapon. He was a Dark Jedi—possibly the next in line for the position of Sith Apprentice, after Darth Maul of course. But Maul was lucky and pathetic at the same time. Lucky in that Sidious had dubbed him before this new face had a chance to end him. Pathetic in that his simple principles and lackluster loyalty sickened the Dark Jedi. Nonetheless, he was a Sith. And Sirek Una was not. This had no bearing on Sirek’s opinions, and he conveyed them openly to Sidious when they occasionally met. Lord Sirek. Not a Sith Lord as he had hoped, but a Lord regardless. At the age of 31, this seemed to be a great show of skill and resilience. It was no surprise then that when the republic sent a small group of Jedi to investigate a trade center that potentially violated Republic law, Sirek would deal with them promptly.

“The Republic’s investigators are in the commons, my Lord,” stated a small, scratchy voice. It was the voice of Tern Li, a Zabrack, the Dark Lord’s personal consultant. Tern had an intelligence that rivaled Sirek; but his inability to feel the Force and lack of individualism drove him to a meager existence as an assistant forever.

“All is well then? They have not sensed danger?” Sirek replied, studying the forms of the Jedi on the security monitor. They made cautious movements incognito, though their masks had been stripped away the moment they landed.

“No, my Lord. They have no idea how close they are.” Tern Li smiled maliciously.

“I will deal with them at once. Prepare my ship—it will not be safe for us here after this deed is complete.” Sirek turned the monitors off and headed for the commons. This will be all too easy for him. Yet, it would be an excellent chance for him to exhibit his utter dominance over the Jedi Council. He was arrogant, and he made it a point never to doubt himself—maybe too much of a point.

The Jedi sensed his presence as he approached the market. They were young—two young padawans and one…master, possibly. Not enough to defend against his assault, but enough to require concentration by the Dark Lord. He meditated silently in a dark hallway, 30 yards from the market. A knight—the third was a Jedi knight. He could feel it. He called upon the dark side of the Force, allowing the energy to flow through his body. It was fierce, furious, and powerful. Soon he would convey this upon the others present. He heard rustling—the Jedi had most definitely felt a disturbance when he entered meditation. He could feel their thoughts. The padawans were worried—possibly their first mission. One of them desperately wished for his master to be present. The other…interesting. Sirek could not sense any emotion from this one. Learning control already was quite imrpessive. The knight’s aura was bright and hopeful, a sickening display of fallacy, thought the Dark Lord. This knight would attempt words of wisdom and offer hope that there was good left in him. There was to be no light found in the dark shell of a man he had become. They were within 5 yards of the old corridor.

“Show yourself fallen one,” the knight exclaimed. Show himself he would, Sirek thought. He slowly exited the corridor, seemingly gliding towards the open courtyard. He was a truly frightening yet awe-inspiring sight. He was handsome—dark brown hair with cold blue eyes. His face was perfect, but his icy features conveyed hate and darkness. He wore a jet-black smock and pants, coupled with boots to match. His cloak was felted on the inside with bright crimson satin and the blackness outside accented his massive figure. He stood over 2 meters tall, broad shoulders pushing out, stabilizing his frame.

“Is it truly the fallen you seek, Jedi?” he spoke softly. He loved to toy with his victims. It was a subtle perk of the lifestyle he pursued.

“Yes, it is the fallen we seek. You are he. But it is not too late for you, Sirek. There is always—“

“Fallen? You use the term I despise yet again, young Jedi. Fallen carries with it a connotation of weakness, disoreintation, or the loss of something. I assure you, you will find I do not exhibit any of these qualities.” Sirek could feel the fear in his opponents. He thought perhaps the council had sent the padawans out a bit too early, as he observed that one had urinated himself.

“Sirek, do not let the cloak of darkness blind you. You can see through it, I know you can.” The Jedi pleaded with him. It was such a courageous effort, albeit quite useless.

“In fact, the qualities you will observe in me are far from weakness. The dark side is powerful. It is flowing through you now, as is the light. Only, the dark side is patient, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself.” Sirek felt it in the knight. He had spoke the words forbidden to speak by the Jedi. The knight was intrigued with his wisdom. But he was not shaken.

“Your words will not affect me, Sirek. But you must heed my warning.” this angered the Dark Lord. He had, his entire life, been burdened by directions and lessons and commands and warnings. He was his own man now, and he would not listen to warnings anymore. “If—“

“Quiet yourself, Jedi Knight. This discussion is over.” His voice was full of venom as he hissed his defiance. “Now, you have found yourself in a predicament. You have invaded my personal estate. And despite our different lifestyels or interpretations of the Force, it is common knowledge that trespassers will pay the price for trespassing. Prepare yourself, for this day will be your last.” Sirek didn’t bother to remove his cloak—he wouldn’t need to.

“I feared this would be the end solution. We will dispatch you quickly—and with honor. It’s never too late, Sirek.” The knight gave one last look into Sirek’s barren features, and all hope died. He removed his cloak and brought the reassuring hilt of his lightsaber to his hand. The padawans did the same. Sirek sensed great unusual fear in one of the padawans. He was gripping his existence as if he knew it was about to end. Sirek would kill him last. All three ignited their blades—the knight sported a gleaming blue blade, while the padawans’ were both green. The three blades hummed in unison and Sirek could feel the tension growing. He loved this part of the duel almost as much as the kill.

Sirek threw his cloak aside and drew his hilt. It was a piece of art—a dark copper hilt studded with silver grips. He ignited the blade, a deep, dark gold glint, and held the saber outstretched from his body with one hand. The knight called the padawans to his side. He looked into their eyes—seeing that their fear was great. The Jedi only hoped they would make it through this. He had serious confidence in himself. It was amusing. Sirek could either give the knight some confidence—allow him to gain and then crush his hopes with a well placed shot—or he could completely destroy him from the beginning. Humiliation was his course.

The Jedi Knight gave the two padawans a serious look. He was conveying silent directions. Not telepathically—but by body language. He had told them to follow his lead. But the brave, controlled padawan would not follow the knight’s direction. He charged Sirek, saber high and coming down hard in a crushing swing. Sirek easily defended, bringing his saber up for a block. He took the blow without a problem and, still with one hand, swung toward the padawan’s side. The padawan blocked, but was pushed back slightly by the Dark Lord’s strength. The knight quickly jumped into the battle, diverting Sirek’s attention from the padawan. The other padawan was frozen in fear. He had ceased to function rationally—clearly a mistake for the council to send him. Three quick strikes from the knight, all blocked easily by Sirek, and countered by a short kick to the young Jedi’s stomach. He stumbled back, but retained balance. He looked over just enough to see the other padawan frozen in fear.

“Jaris,” he called out, “you must help us! We need you! Focus, young one.” The padawan barely cracked, but moved a step towards the fray. At the same time, the other padawan bravely engaged Sirek again. He threw several varying strikes—all countered by Sirek. This is too easy, Sirek thought, gracefully blocking each attack—still with one hand. It was time to end this padawan and display his strength to the others. The padawan realigned himself and stared into Sirek’s cold face. He knew that this was not going to be a battle he would walk away from safely. Sirek’s icy eyes insured that this was true. Just then, the knight challenged Sirek from the rear. He quickly blocked the side shot and spun with a cross slash clearing a circle around him. The padawan moved in, saber in attack position. Sirek turned his body sideways—between the two Jedi—and extended a fist towards the padawan. With a massive push from the Force, the Dark Lord flung the padawan into the wall, crumpling his opponent with crushing strength. He could hear the Jedi’s bones crunch against the solid steel wall as the thud reverberated. The knight surged with a sense of protection for his friend; it was a powerful, concentrated surge. Sirek was surprised by the skill of the combination. He varied his strikes and placed his shots in more trying positions than before. But Sirek was not fazed. He brought his saber in front of him and dared the knight to approach.

“Jaris! We need you! You must not delay any longer! Feel the Force in you and—“ The knight pleaded with the padawan but was interrupted by a slash from Sirek, which resulted in a lock of sabers. Sirek forced himself forward, bending the knight lower. He leaned in on his saber. He had the knight exactly where he wanted him.

“How pathetic,” he hissed under his breath, “that a weakling like you would believe it possible to combat the dark side.”

“Hopeful, Sirek.” The Jedi grunted. “Hopeful that even if I die, you still may see the light.” Sirek was disgusted by this. He called upon the Force and pushed the Jedi even further away. But the knight would not break his lock. Sirek rotated his blade and elbowed the Jedi directly in the face. The knight faltered slightly, losing his balance, and while off foot, Sirek swung downward and sliced the knight’s right leg off at the knee.

The fearful padawan approached another step, but was trembling at the site he had just witnessed. His leader—his friend—had fallen to the ground and his companion lay crumpled against the wall. Jaris could not think. He could not act. But his heart and his mind compelled him to do so. He took another step towards Sirek. Feeling his aggression, Sirek turned to face his new opponent. Blue eyes wild with life—like a predator tasting the blood of a fresh kill.
“Run padawan. Run and save yourself. Tell your council of the terror that waits for them in Dark Lord Sirek!” With that, Sirek whirled his saber downward and stabbed it into the chest of the fallen knight. The knight’s body shook furiously, squeaking out one last breath. He was dead.

“NO!” The padawan was furious. His newfound courage took hold of him. He took a jog step towards the dark warrior and thrust his saber forward. The attack was dodged—barely—and Sirek brushed the padawan’s arm with his saber, just searing his flesh. He reared back with pain.

“You cannot face me, Jedi.” Sirek taunted him. He was enthralled by the boy’s tenacity. “You are left with two choices. Become my padawan—a new padawan of the dark side, or die. The question is simple, the answer more so.”

“No! I will not join you!” The padawan overcame the pain of his injury and squared up for another attack. He pushed forward releasing several strikes. Sirek had slightly more difficulty blocking the attack, but not enough to worry about. However, he was impressed by the padawan’s strength.

“I will not offer you the same choice again. This will be your last chance.” Sirek did want to train this young talent, but he had no problem ending the padawan’s life. After all, he needed no one—leader or follower.

“You have destroyed my friends! Now I will avenge them!” This one was truly in rare form. He unleashed another combination of strikes, this time more fierce than the last. But they were not enough. Sirek stood tall.

“Jaris!” a weak voice called. It was the other padawan. He had survived the mangling fall. “Take this!” The padawan tossed his saber to Jaris—but Sirek in intercepted it in mid flight.

“A gallant effort I assure you. But not very effective.” Sirek ignited the saber—it’s green blade humming softly. Turning to face his weak opponent, he threw six quick slashes, alternating sabers. The padawan barely defended all of them, but Sirek’s skill was just too much. With perfect stride and a grace unmatched, Sirek twirled his saber above his head and thrust the other saber out towards the padawan. The padawan deflected the thrust but Sirek released the second attack in a swift downward slash, slicing the young Jedi across the chest. The Jedi fell to the floor, severely injured and dying.

“Jaris!” the padawan shouted. Sirek dropped the stolen saber and turned to the defenseless padawan. “Jaris—do whatever you can to get away. You must!” The padawan tried desperately to crawl away. But he was so badly broken that his legs would not move.
“You shouldn’t have let your feelings betray you. You could have saved your friend. But now you will both die.” Sirek laughed and positioned himself over the fallen padawan. The distraught padawan stared from the ground. Battered and beaten, he could do nothing to help his friend. The Dark Lord raised his saber another time, this time to come down upon the padawan’s head, taking his last breath.

He screamed out to his companion—a full scream from his spirit. Sirek fed off of the negative energy. Desperation took over his mind. Unthinkable fear gripped him—he was going to die. He couldn’t believe it. Entering the Jedi order, he thought, would make him stronger. He thought it would better prepare him for survival. But it was all in vain in the face of this opponent. He felt cold; cold and somber, knowing that his death was imminent.

“Have you seen enough killing today, young one?” Clicking his saber off, Sirek thought he would attempt to turn him one last time. Sometimes it took several opportunities to change the mind of one that was poisoned by the Jedi Order. His power had been exhibited. Now was the turning point. “Join me. Not only will your life be spared, but you will embrace power that now you cannot even conceive. The dark side is strong, you can see. The Jedi lied to you—they hid the prowess of the dark side from you. I can teach you its secrets.” Sadly, the padawan’s features changed. His mind was being swayed. Distraught and left with no choice, the boy would crack. Sirek had faith in his ability to turn others. Just as it had happened to him, another would realize the truth of the Force. Sirek could feel him changing in front of him.

“I…I don’t want to die,” he pleaded. “I guess I have no choice. I will join you.” Sirek felt something wrong with the padawan’s statement. He sensed a lack of truth in the boy. He was lying to him. He had a hidden agenda. Sirek knew this to be true. The new question was simple: end the boy now or destroy him later for being insubordinate. Sirek decided he had no time to deal with a boy like this.

“So the choice is made. Arise and approach me padawan.” He gave false confidence to the boy. He weakly made it to his feet—after a couple of tries—and slowly stumbled over to his new master. Sirek squared up to him. “Your first and last lesson: remember that your thoughts betray you!” Sirek raised his hand and the traitor was lifted off of the ground. The Force was choking him, as the Dark Lord clenched his fist further.

“Release the boy Sirek,” a strong, composed voice echoed behind him. Sirek nearly jumped from the spot he was standing. He knew the voice well, and felt a slight shiver of distress slide through his body. He turned—he was surprised he hadn’t felt the presence of his old master. He was intentionally hiding his presence, Sirek assured himself. The large, powerful figure of Jedi Master Mace Windu stood tall behind him.

“You shouldn’t have sent them here. It was a mistake.” Sirek argued.

“The mistake was made when you left the Order, Sirek. Had it not been for your own selfishness, we would have never found ourselves in this…position. Now leave the boy,” Windu commanded.

“I will not take orders from you! Do you not remember why I left?” Sirek had become agitated with this. He could not destroy his old Master—Windu was much too powerful. He feared to even enter into a duel with the Jedi. But at the same time, his pride prevented him from backing down.

“I know it is true. You can search yourself and find that you have no choice, Sirek. You cannot fight me…you won’t. You are afraid.”

“You know not of my power, Windu! Do you doubt me? Do you doubt the one you taught?”

“I doubt the dark side, Sirek. Look at you. It has consumed you. You are merely a shell of what once existed. You have no mind of your own—no feelings, no value. You are nothing in it, Sirek. Nothing close to the Jedi Knight you once were.” Windu had been here before many times. He had encountered Sirek on three separate occasions—one resulting in the death of a colleague. The other two were attempts at recovering the fallen one made by Master Windu alone. The two had engaged in only one duel since his embrace of the dark side. The duel was fast and fierce, leaving Sirek wounded. Windu never doubted Sirek’s skill, but he and the council believed that the now fallen Jedi Knight Brant and the two nearly knighted padawan’s could overcome the Dark Lord’s power. Now revealed, the decision was unwise. He had tried all he could to turn Sirek back. He had said a great many things to him, but none had worked thus far. One feeling prevailed: Windu still cared for his apprentice. He had not taken another until Sirek was either reinstated into the Order or destroyed. “There is still a chance for you.”

“There was never a chance for me,” Sirek sneered. “It was the will of the force that I betrayed you and left the Order. You know it to be so. And now, you try yet again to sway me. Has this final showing not been enough? Look around you—two Jedi lay dead with one dying in front of you—“ Master Windu glanced in the fallen padawan’s direction “—and yet still you pursue me. Haven’t you learned?”

“What I have learned is that you leave me no choice. I have all but begged you to return to the Order, and yet you have repeatedly spit on each effort.” Windu shrugged his cloak aside and drew the hilt of his saber. “It is only natural, then, that when faced with an evil a Jedi cannot redeem, he should destroy it. My words no longer bear strength. But the edge of my saber will.” With that, Master Mace Windu ignited his brilliant purple blade. The blade sung with an idle vibration. Sirek, stricken with fear, re-ignited his saber and brought both hands to the hilt. He could feel his own self-confidence fading in the seasoned, strong features of his old Master. Master Windu was a truly frightening sight to those who would violently oppose him. Windu was patient, and waited for Sirek to make the first move. The old friends circled, eyeing the other equally. Sirek was looking for an opening, while Mace was evaluating the younger one’s skill. He seemed well in control of his person, but Mace could sense a lack of confidence.

“Remember this: you, Jedi Knight Sirek Una, have not chosen your path. You have been consumed by the dark side. It has forged your misteps—and your grave.” The Master struck out with a massive overhead strike, crushing the block of his defender. Sirek countered, stumbling with a cross slash, which was defended by Windu. Another quick strike—another parry. The duel raged on. Matching up again and again, the combatants swung furiously, each strike aimed for a kill. Sirek was tiring, but Windu held strong. With a quick fake to the left, the Dark Lord slashed to the right, but the Master saw the attack very early on and parried with one hand. With the other, he stretched out his hand, thrusting a Force generated punch into the belly of Sirek. The apprentice was launched to the ground, gripping his saber in front of him. Master Windu did not charge him—but took a step back.

“Will this end in blood, Sirek?” Windu questioned with a stone face. Sirek rose to his feet and reset his attack position. Master Windu raised his saber again, and the battle recommenced. It raged on for another few strikes, but Master Windu was tired of chasing the unattainable. He had a deep feeling that his apprentice was lost. He felt that even he could not sway the mind of the killer who had tasted blood. Some just succumbed to the dark side so easily and fully that there could be no return—much like many Sith Lords. Death was the only release.

Terribly weary and frustrated, Sirek threw a very poorly placed thrust and Master Windu parried with a slice to the hilt of his opponent’s weapon—slicing the saber in half in a mini explosion. Unarmed and beaten, the Dark Lord looked into the eyes of his former master. Would he be killed, or would he be imprisoned. It seemed that death would be much sweeter than being in the possession of the council.

“Kill me, Windu. Please—end me honorably. I know I have failed you and the Order, and it is too late for redemption.” Sirek pleaded for a clean and quick death. He felt the pain and sorrow of the dark side setting in. Close to his death, he could see that he was foolish in his ways. Master Windu sensed this hesitation in character. He knew Sirek had no master and therefore would be left with only himself to fend for. He wanted to save his old apprentices life, and this seemed to be his chance. He second guessed his kill strategy—there was still good in this man.

“It will not end here. When all is reestablished and this operation shut down, I will return for you. I will not destroy you—not when you are this close to return. I will redeem you. Expect me.” With that, Master Windu deactivated his saber and attended the fallen padawan, stabilizing him with the Force. He then picked up the boy in his strong arms and began to walk back to his ship. Throughout the entire movement, Sirek only sat and stared. He could do nothing, and it was in this time that he realized that his arrogance had overstepped his talent. Empty, he thought about the battle that had just raged. Was this really worth it? Was the dark sided so powerful that he would be beaten by a Jedi so fully? As Master Windu disappeared into the now sleepy market, the Dark Lord Sirek Una, trembling with fear and self-doubt, wept.