Legend of the Saum’riae (Family History: Janson Star)

[Janson Star]

They were hiding. Everyone was hiding. An entire race trembled in fear. Even the sun cowered low behind the distant hills. He could feel their fear; their anger; their hatred. He could feel the Dark Side burning strong. He laughed. This world was nothing. It had always been nothing, and so it would always be.

His eyes roamed the landscape…and stopped before the setting sun. Something stood there, on the hills, looking down at him. Not just one something – several somethings: an army of somethings. Their armour glinting in the orange light, they stood firm, mocking him. His anger flared, and he screamed aloud. “Charge!” he cried, his crimson Lightsaber burning into life.

* * *

Atop the hill, the Saum’riae fell to their knees. They chanted in unison, the words they were taught to speak during Um’riae – the breaking of life. The end. Suicide. “No!” one of them yelled aloud, as the first of his brethren ended their life by his own sword. “We must fight!”

“We will fail,” came the reply, the voice of the chief. “We will fight, and we will all die. We have all lived by the blade. We must all die by it.”

“We are the Saum’riae. It means unbreakable men. We cannot allow them to break us!”

“We break ourselves.” The chief met the gaze of he that disagreed, and gave him a reassuring nod. “Until the afterlife.” The last words left his lips, and he slumped forward, the ground driving his sword deeper inside him.

“We are still broken,” whispered Aiden Star, and bowed his head lower.

* * *

The Dark Jedi reached the top of the hill. They had all gone. All died. All lay still…all but one. A solitary figure knelt, his sword held in his hands. The Dark Jedi pondered him with interest. “Why are you not dead like the others? What do you hope to achieve by resisting? Why do you stand against me?”

Aiden looked up, and fixed the Dark Jedi with a cold gaze. “Because I choose to.”

Anger creased the Jedi’s brow. His saber came forward, and he raised it above his head. “You choose to die by my hand…so be it.” The Jedi swung down. But it never reached Aiden’s head.

Palm beneath the point of his sword, Aiden thrust it upwards, and it contacted heavily with the lightsaber blade. However, the blade did not continue on through, as it should have. It stopped, straining against the strange metal of the Saum’riae blade.

The Dark Jedi’s eyes widened in surprise. Nothing could stop a Lightsaber blade. It could pass through anything. “Why,” he tried to ask, but he didn’t get the chance.

Aiden stood, and thrust upwards with his sword, forcing the Dark Jedi’s saber to fly out of his hands. As he brought his katana down with both hands on the hilt, he punched forwards, sending the Dark Lord tumbling down the slope. And then he did the only thing he could do. He ran.

[Janson Star]

“And then he did the only thing he could do. He ran.”

Grandpa Wodan had told the story easily a hundred times, but his grandchildren loved hearing it. The wise old man always drew quite a crowd. Children from all around the town flocked to hear his stories about the Saum’riae, and their heroes. Usually, the stories were exaggerated. But not this one…this one was filled with enough heroes. Aiden had been the Last Saum’riae…a title passed down to his son, and to his grandson, and to his great grandson. Wodan.

But Wodan was too old and frail to fight. His son carried the sword. But on its blade, on the black insert that ran at the center for the length of one side, his name was engraved, in Saum’riae symbols, beside the name of his father, his father’s father, his father’s father’s father, and many generations of Star before them. He looked up, and saw the current sword-bearer. His son. Leo Star. At his side stood a six-year-old, his son, and his heir. Soon, Janson would bear the sword. But not yet.

“Aiden escaped to a ship, and journeyed away from our home, seeking out a world where he could live in peace. But peace was not forthcoming…at least, not as forthcoming as something else. Not as forthcoming as love…”

* * *

”Hi there, stranger,” called a soft, sweet voice that dragged his wandering mind back to the market square he sat in, empty and peaceful, watched over by twilight tranquility. He looked up into the eyes of Shandra, a woman who, to him, needed no other introduction. She sat down beside him, and gently took his hand in hers. “You said you wouldn’t be gone so long, this time,” she whispered gently. “And I know you won’t be here long. You’ll go off with those warriors again, and I won’t see you. What happens if you die? How will I know? How will I…”

“They’re gone,” Aiden croaked. He turned to face her, and she saw his cheeks, streaked with tears. “They died…laid down their lives. They gave up.”

“Oh, Aiden…” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck, and holding him close to her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I am the only one left. I am the Last Saum’riae.” The words clung painfully to his throat as he tried to force them out; not wanting to admit what he knew was true. All that remained of a once proud warrior race were a hundred rotting corpses, and the man that ran away. Fresh tears flowed down his cheeks, and fell upon the dry earth.

“No.” Shandra leaned back from him, and took his hand in hers, gently pressing it to her stomach. “You are not the last. There is another.”

* * *

“That child was my grandfather, Falynn Star. He was the first descendant of the Last Saum’riae. He was the next to carry the Saum Blade at his side. Saum, in our native tongue, means unbreakable, and it describes the Saum Blade perfectly.”

He leaned forward, moving closer to his audience, his eyes sparkling at the wonder on their faces. “The blade,” he explained, “Is forged from the heart of the mountain; from sacred ore found beneath the Temple of the Rising Sun. Falynn bore the sword from the day he came of age, as is the tradition of our people. He fought at his father’s side, and together they won many great battles. My own father too, when he came of age, fought for the family. It was an honourable cause to dedicate ones life to; the preservation of a tradition that has survived for millennia.”

Wodan smiled, and reclined in his chair, his own memories of days long passed flashing through his mind. He longed for the strength to fight, but it had long since failed him. “The greatest battle that was ever fought by our family happened when I was very young. I had lived for only sixteen years, but I had become the Bearer of the Saum Blade. The Clone Wars had begun, and we saw it as our duty to fight on the side of good. We sought out the Jedi of the Republic, and went to battle at their side when the droid armies attacked. The Jedi, to their credit, were valiant warriors. Their lightsabers were impressive weapons, as strong as the Saum Blade, if not stronger, able to pass through any substance…save for our sword, of course. They could deflect away the energy weapons fired by the droids, and in skilled hands, they were truly deadly.”

Wodan’s eyes fell away from the crowd, sadness creeping into his heart. “My father was the first of us to fall. A blaster bolt caught him in the side, and his guard dropped.” Tears filled the old man’s eyes as he continued. “My grandfather saw it happen, and tried to rush to his aid. He ran right into the line of fire of a battle droid. And I…” Wodan sighed, and tugged up the leg on his robes, revealing the silvery metal underneath. “I was lucky enough to end up inside the blast radius of an anti-personnel missile when it went off. Took my leg off just below the knee. I’ve not been able to fight since.”

Disappointment and hatred filled the old man’s voice as history rolled on in his story. “Under the Empire, fighting was not an option. My son Leo and I were forced to hide from their Stormtroopers. Our kind exerts some control over the Force. That made us targets for Palpatine as he tried to wipe out the Jedi. Since then we have hidden. But now…” His eyes looked up, and stared at his grandson. “The next sword-bearer will not need to hide. We can show our faces again, and show the galaxy that the Saum’riae are still here, and we are not yet broken.”

[Janson Star]

Wodan, old and frail, sat watching his grandson trained. The young Janson was skilled, but he was nothing compared to the heroes of whom he often spoke. The Empire had supressed their ability to train, and Janson had been affected greatly. He was not ready. But tradition was tradition. In fact, it was law. When he reached the age of sixteen years, Janson would become the sword-bearer. And there was nothing Wodan could do about it, except hope for a miracle in the next five days.

* * *

It was his day. He knelt before his father, hands raised, palms upwards, his training sword proffered do his mentor.

His father, dressed in ceremonial robes, lifted the blade gently from him. "The night dwindles," Leo said, speaking the words his father had spoken to him on the day of his ascention. He slid the training blade into his own scabbard, and drew a dagger from his belt.

Symbols on the dagger's blade glistened in the pale candlelight in the pre-dawn courtyard; the names of his ancestors. Each warrior who had borne the Saum blade of the Star family was comemorated on its sister dagger. Beside its hilt, Janson saw his own name. There is no room left, he thought to himself. No more names will fit on the blade. I am the last.

Leo ran the blade across the palm of his hand, crimson blood following in its wake. He squeezed his hand closed, and a drop of blood fell onto the Suam blade. Janson rose, and did the same. His blood flowed into his father's blood. It was the same blood. Star blood.

"We are of the same blood, and we are bonded by that blood. My right to the sword is no greater than your right." Leo lowered his eyes to meet Janson's. "You are now a man, my son. Claim the sword that you deserve." With that, Leo stepped back, and bowed.

Janson lifted the sword gently, and looked at the blade. It felt strange in his hands...different to his training sword. The blade gleamed, perfectly clean, unaged despite its centuries of existance. Its blade was strong enough to resist a lightsaber, and as such its surface was without blemish. Yet, it felt lighter than anything he had ever felt. "I accept the sword," Janson said, stepping back, and bowing also. He slid the blade into his own scabbard, and picked up the dagger, slipping it into his belt.

"Happy birthday, Janson," Leo said with a smile.