The Knight, Death, and the Devil

Chapter 8: A Drink Too Many

"Try again."

Torin looked from his Master to the small metal sphere on the table in front of him. Remaining kneeled, he once again extended his hands towards the sphere, screwing up his face and straining his muscles. The orb remained still and he exhaled, then dropped his arms to his sides.

"You're not trying," she chided him.

"Trying what?" He shot back. "You just told me to move it—you didn't say how."

"I can't tell you how. It will come naturally."

"Clearly, it isn't."

"You froze my entire dining room in place—you should be able to move one measly ball."

He stared at her in silent disagreement. She could say he should be able to do it all she liked, but that didn't bring him any closer to actually doing it.

"Do you remember what I told you about will?"

He thought for a moment. "That will is everything."

"Clearly you're not properly motivated."

She's not wrong.

His heart wasn't in this—not really. Every waking moment was dedicated to finding a way off Balmorra and away from his kidnapper, a task made more difficult by her overbearing nature. She hovered over him constantly, and the guards patrolling the manor at night made escape impossible even during the few short hours she left him in peace.

Even if he had no intention of becoming Vathamma's apprentice, he had to be careful not to disappoint her too much. If he showed himself as having no potential whatsoever, she may just dispose of him. On the other hand, displaying excessive promise would only draw more of her unwanted attention and 'guidance'. He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn't. All he could do now was walk that razor's edge as best he could while waiting for an opportunity to present itself.

Turning back to the table, he leaned forward on his knees and wrenched up his face, directing every last bit of grit and determination he could muster at the round bit of metal.

Move, damn you!

The ball rolled an inch before coming to a stop.

"I did it!" He marveled, gesturing to the table.

"No, you didn't."

Above the table, the air conditioning whirred to life in a vent on the ceiling, pushing the ball off the table and onto the floor.

She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. "Perhaps we need to raise the stakes." She slid her robe sleeve up her arm and spoke into her communicator. "Nomi, training room. Now."

The Togruta entered the room, slipping off her shoes at the entrance and plodding across the mat towards the Sith.

"Yes, Mistress?"

Gripping the Togruta by the shoulders, she shifted her a few steps to the side. "Dont move." She walked over to a weapon rack, selecting a vibrosword before walking back to Nomi.

What's she planning here?

Standing a few feet away from her alien slave and off to the side, the Sith held the sword up in front of her.

"Hold your arm out," she commanded, and the Togruta raised her left hand in front of her.

The corners of her master's lips turned down in annoyance. "No, the other one."

Nomi dropped her left arm and raised the right, holding it straight out with the the Sith's blade poised directly above it.

"What are you doing?" Torin snapped, moving towards the pair before Vathamma motioned as if to bring the blade cutting downward.