The Hidden Truth

“Well, you should pass, if you do that during the test. Now, I think we can improve those moves. First, you need to think about what you are doing”

I relaxed my shoulders and arms. I took a heavy breath. I went through all the basic moves we had been taught in class, the ones we would be tested on. I mentally went through the moves in my mind.

“Good, now do them again”

I went through each of the eight starting points, swinging the stick in various directions. I looked up once done, at Mirmo, trying to read his emotions. His face was impassionate mask that evaded my light scan. He voice failed to hint what he thought.

“The problem here, is not you knowing the moves, but you have yet to convince me that you are truly fighting and not just swinging a stick”

I opened my mouth a bit and slumped my shoulders. That was hardly fair to say! After all, I was swinging a stick. Then, without a single warning from his body or mind, he called a sparring stick to his hand with the power of the Force. I found the gesture one of high fascination, enough inspiring awe to keep me distracted and not move as he quickly and smartly smacked hard on the meat of my left arm.

The short, painful attack brought me out of my awe and into a world full of shock. This was not the master I knew minutes before. Before me was standing a man I hardly knew. His body was tense and rigid, ready to react to anything. His weary eyes darted and swept the room around him, taking in all. His legs where a piece apart, light on his feet, slightly bending his knees, ready to jump aside or deliver a powerful kick. He held the stick close to him, hands gripping tightly at the bottom at his waist, slightly angling the stick to cover most of his upper body. His back was straight, but still flexible. I sensed intense waves of the Force, searching the room where his eyes could not, roll off of him. A calm alertness came off him like a strong smell. What was before me was a warrior. The peaceful, laid back meditator was stripped away to a cold, no nonsense man who radiated the overwhelming feeling of do not mess with me.

“Defend yourself”

With that, he attacked me again, using a quick left right, I later recognized this as a distraction, and hit me hard on my right arm. The strike was jolting enough to cause me to drop my stick and give a moan of pain.

“Defend yourself, apprentice”

Again, he attacked, bringing his stick around to his right upper shoulder, and was going issue a low strike to my left hip. I ignored and push aside the pain, quick to move back and side step to my right, avoiding the attack. He once again brought his stick to his right shoulder, if to repeat the same move, but as I was stepping a backwards left, he switched his angle and caught me on the upper part of my right arm with an over head swinging move. This blow was softer and somewhat slower. I froze and look up at him.

“Defend yourself with your sword”

As I bend over, keeping learned an eye on him and his deadly stick, I felt heat rise to my cheeks. One should never let go of their sword for any reason for it leaves you incredibly vulnerable to any attack. Plus, a Force sensitive can Force grab your weapon, leaving in their mercy. What was worse was I knew this. This was a mistake that even a novice should know better. I would have to increase my pain tolerance or learn to numb the pain while in battle.

I stood up, back straight, tense and uncomfortably stiff. I have never battled a person before, knowing nothing of what to do or what to expect. What few moves I knew and common sense ideas were no help when faced with an experienced fighter. It did not help the situation that I was fighting my master, eager to do well, yet embarrassed by my lack of talent and skill.

He attacked me again, using a short, swift stroke from the lower right, using just one hand. I clumsily, with slow, unused reflexes, to bring my stick to stop him from bruising my thigh. The move was too late, too unthought-of out to possibly do more than spend precious and much needed energy. My leg weakened with that blow, forcing me to favor it and lean to my left. Mirmo took advantage of my distracting pain and whipped out another blow to my calf, causing me to stand on my right leg, hopping around like a drunken fool, using the foulest curses I knew.

“When you are hit, say on your leg for instance, that is the place you want to protect the move, seeing how it is easiest to strike again. Never let pain get in the way of your life. Pain should only encourage you to work harder to protect yourself when engaged in a fight”

I lowered a throbbing leg down to the ground, dropping my stick as a sign of giving in. I nodded, showing that I was listening, but focused on slowing my mind and breathing, to calm raging nerves and a hammering heart. I rubbed various arms and legs, easing the pain away.

“When you present your skills for tomorrow’s test, remember this and execute them as if they were being using against me”

I moaned a bit for a respond. I sensed, although did not see, a smile form on my master’s face. He put away the two sticks, then lowered himself a bit and offered a hand to help lift me up from my humbled position. I took it, leaning heavily on my right leg, and slowly walked to my room to nurse a painful body.