Tales of Tenric's Training: I

©2007 David Bieri (aka: nightguy)
A Lesson Learned: a tale of Tenric’s training (working title)

Part I

Tenric crashed through the underbrush at the edge of the clearing, breathing heavily. In his right hand was the broken, jagged, end of a stout tree branch and on his left temple there was a darkening bruise. He kept glancing over his shoulder as he ran, looking in vain for signs of pursuit. He cast wildly behind him with the Force trying to both sense and repel his attacker. It was no use, however, for he was still too young and inexperienced to do much more than scare himself with his ineffectiveness.

An exposed tree root caught his foot and sent him sprawling. He jumped to his feet and turned, facing the trees defiantly. A small smile crossed his face as he wiped the dirt away. With difficulty he calmed himself and sought the center his Master had shown him. Sounds of pursuit now came from the trees and he braced himself, gripping the branch as close to the end as possible to extend his reach. It wouldn’t be enough, but that root had given him an idea. He reached out with the Force and moved his hand in a covering motion and the root faded from view.

The brush rustled at the exact spot from which he had emerged and then suddenly parted to reveal…nothing. The area seemed to grow eerily quiet as the brush settled back into place. He could feel the presence of something, but couldn’t see it. There was the faintest of odors on the wind but not enough to help him locate his attacker. He began to get nervous once more. His hasty plan to confront his pursuer now useless since there appeared to be nothing to confront.

Scanning the area, and opening himself as wide as he could to the Force, Tenric prepared for the attack he knew was coming. Suddenly there was a horrendous screech from directly behind him. He whirled and stepped quickly back away from the noise, only to trip once more over the same root. He lost his grip on the branch and it went flying away from him as he fell. He reached out with the Force and called it back, but it simply stopped in mid air and hung there. As his back hit the ground he saw the air over him shimmer slightly and out of the corner of his eye he saw two well-worn boots protruding from the hem of his Master’s robe.

“You are still surprisingly quick footed, my Padawan.” His Master said with a smile, “Quick witted too. Both will serve you well in the time to come.” He finished; referring as he usually did to some future full of foreboding he either could not, or would not explain.

“Not fair!” Tenric spurted as he rose once more.

“Not fair?” his Master chided. “It was you who resorted to illusion first. Do not complain to me of being bested at your own game.” As he finished saying this Tenric’s branch floated slowly back to him.

“But you attacked me without warning!” he complained in return. “You were supposed to be meditating this morning.” He accused.

“Have you still not learned that life very rarely follows the route we have planned for it.” His Master replied. “A Jedi must be always ready, always alert, always attuned to the Force. Otherwise you will fail, whether as ambassador, negotiator, or warrior.” He finished, “Now come and wash up.”

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