Mandalorian Revived

Chapter 10

If the air was quiet before, it's absolutely silent now. Even the young children are watching through their small helmets. I turn to face the Armorer fully and pull my shoulders back. She clearly wants the spectacle. If she didn't, she wouldn't have done this.

"What's your weapon of choice?"I ask. My fingers grip the knife hilt a little tighter.

She holds up the beskar tool in her hand. "This will do. What do you choose?"

My eyes drag over to Din. He gives a tiny shake of his head. Please don't, he seems to say. I look at Paz, who's stoic as ever. Then I look at Bo Katan. She's watching with great interest.

Through the gaps in the crowd, I find Grogu staring up at me. I can feel his presence. So strong for one so small. But he's sure of something, and after some prodding, I realize he's sure of me. And no matter how strange it seems, that matters most of all to me.

I look back at the Armorer as I toss the knife into the sand. The blade sinks in with a faint thud and I unsheathe my lightsabers. They ignite, filling the silence with the constant, low hum of the orange blades. A few of the Mandalorians take a step backward.

"These will do," I say. The Armorer nods and plants her feet a little further apart. Somehow, I feel like this is what she wanted.

Paz and Bo Katan move out of the way and the crowd creates a circular perimeter around us. The Armorer dips her head once. "Begin."

I lunge first. I've never fought her, or seen her fight, so I decide my best strategy is to force her hand and get a feel for her style. I discover quickly that she is a solid, sure-footed fighter. Every move is calculated. Every step is planned. She's moving as little as possible, making this look more like a dance than a duel and thoroughly wearing me out. That's her strategy.

But now I've caught on.

I step back, my sabers raised in defense, and wait for her to come to me. After a beat of tense silence, she gives in. Our roles have switched. Now she's the lead in our dance, pushing the offensive and striking at me, and I'm the follower who simply responds to each of her moves.

"Do you know your drills, Tara?" She asks between strikes.

I leap into the air and flip sideways to avoid being hit by her weapon. "Yes," I huff out.

"Good. Solus."

I recognize the drills by their numbers, especially now that I've learned more of the Mando'a language from Din, and react immediately.

"T'ad."

I perform the second drill without question and she deflects every strike perfectly.

"Ehn. Cuir. T'ad."

The rapid-fire drills don't throw me. This feels natural, like my childhood. I carry out her drills efficiently, but just as she's about to call another one, I feign swiping my shorter saber to the left. When she moves to deflect it I quickly push the longer one to the right, catching the blade in the space between her helmet and chest armor. The unprotected part of her neck.

She freezes and the Mandalorians around us all begin to squirm. Some hover their hands over their weapons. None of them trust me.

The Armorer and I are both breathing heavily as she turns beneath the blade to look at me. "Well done, Tara Vizsla. Your Mandalorian training has not left you."

I shake my head. "No, of course not."

She lets out a breath and I step back and deactivate the blades. She points to the hilts. "Those sabers, they are beskar."