Crossing the distance in time was trivial to a near-Warden, but someone had to be the first, and Ayna fell into the arms of a tall boy from the southern flatlands. There was a chorus of laughs, at the pair, at the silly display, and at those who had lost the brief race.

Ayna grinned suggestively at her draw, and languidly crossed her arms and legs. It was clear that she expected him to continue to carry her.

“I’ll be busy for a bit, Saketa,” the Dwyyk said, without taking her eyes off the southern boy.

“I suppose you will be.”

“And are you busy, Elder?”

Saketa followed the voice. It belonged to a girl whose facial features spoke of the western shores, complemented by the double hair buns that were so popular there. She had her hands on her hips, and a bit of a gleam in her eyes.

“Hardly an elder, just yet,” Saketa replied evenly. “Although I appreciate the compliment.”

“But you are older, certainly. Will you not show us how it is done, out on the path?”

“You do not lack for teachers up here.”

“There is never too much variety, Elder Saketa. Or will you really not honour the sparring grounds?”

The attention had, largely, shifted away from Ayna and her current toy, to this little conversation.

“Your name is Ajata, is it not?” Saketa asked.

“It is. Ajata Kan Heiso, of the white shores.”

“Well, daughter of the white shores: You wish to see if you can best me?”

Ajata’s flashed a crooked smile. The surrounding atmosphere was still amused, but now with an excited edge. The girl had her admirers, as Saketa had noticed before, but some were also muttering that she was getting herself into trouble.

“Yes.”

Saketa faced her down. Contrary to what trainees tended to believe, she actually did remember those days. She could play this game.

“And why is that?”

“We must test ourselves,” Ajata said. “You know this.”

“A Warden must walk in truth. You know this.”

Ajata cocked her head a little, in a manner that reminded Saketa of Ayna.

“I must admit to some ego. I excel, I am told. I would be delighted to prove myself against someone new. Why not brag, if one can?”

“And your lessons? What do they tell you?”

Ajata took a couple of quick looks around, at their audience.

“To know myself, above all else. I should know what my true capabilities are. And if I fail, then I fail in order to learn.”

“Very well,” Saketa said. “Since this is a matter of… learning.”

She shook off her bags and her knife belt. She took off the travelling cape and her shoes, and felt the universe open up to her just a little bit more. She held a hand out and someone passed her a wooden sparring sword.

The crowd parted, to observe the match from three sides on the field. Saketa swung the sword through the air, getting a feel for the weight, length and balance, and prepping her body and mind. The hard ground beneath her bare feet was exactly as she remembered.

“Plain match,” she declared. “No power.”

“As you wish,” Ajata said.

She did her own twirl.

“First to three hits?” the girl asked.

“Let’s just make it one,” Saketa said.

“As you wish.”

They squared off. Saketa took her opponent’s measure, and allowed her own sensitivity to the forefront. No one watching spoke. No one moved.

Saketa attacked, and Ajata met her. Their swords met once. Then Saketa feinted, luring Ajata into a lunge. Saketa sidestepped it entirely, and was at the girl’s side before she could correct. Then she swung her wooden sword hard into Ajata’s buttocks.

“OW!”

The stored tension in the group around them burst out in the form of laughter. Ajata grimaced as she turned around, and rubbed her stricken cheeks.

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“Ow.”

She smiled through the pain and some good-natured mockery from the audience.

“Should I take that as a message of some sort?”

“Just a message that, weakened though I am, I am still your superior. Keep honing yourself. Perhaps you’ll surpass me someday.”

She smiled at Ajata.

“Thank you for the match.”

“Thank you for the match, Elder.”

She returned the sword to the boy who’d handed it over, then picked her things up and walked away. She left Ajata to endure some teasing, and Ayna to have her fun. The Dwyyk deserved it, for being a travelling companion in the past weeks.

The temple beckoned: Simple but sturdy stonework, beneath a wooden roof, given grace and dignity by centuries of wear. The main door was embossed with metal; the images consisted simply of flowing, elegant shapes, rather than anything recogniseable, but there was a universal theme of soft curves.

The hinges were well-oiled, as always, and she entered silently on bare feet. She put her things on one of the shelves immediately on the left, then closed her eyes and just stood there for a little while.

The pools were dug into the ground and stone-paved. Water poured from a pipe above each one, before being drained away by the plumbing to join the river. The never-ending chorus of soft trickling worked wonders for relaxing the mind.

But one could do better, so she walked on. She kept her eyes closed, relying on memory and her sensitivity, and found herself an unoccupied pool. She disrobed, slipped in, and started meditating.

The Red Peaks hadn’t been chosen at random. This was a powerful place, more so the higher one got. She connected, first with herself, then with the waves of power. It was here, in one of the pools, after several years of training, that she’d made her first true connection. She had risen out of the water as a changed person, and walked out beneath the sky with a redoubled sense of purpose.

Stronger connections had come later, and she’d learned to make them more quickly. But that had been one of the biggest milestones of her life, and was now a treasured memory.

She basked in the energies now. There were limits to how far she could go without a balancing focus, but she was reminded, yet again, of who she was and what her purpose was.

All in all, it was a good way to spend a couple of hours. But by then evening had arrived, and it was time for the meeting.

# # #

The Council gathered on specific dates, or when specific matters needed to be tended to. Tonight was the second sort, and the matter was Saketa herself. Their hall was a set of concentric circles, each one higher as one went further out from the centre, and all beneath a cone-shaped wooden roof. Burning braziers hung from the roof beams, providing light. There was no maximum or minimum number of members. Retired Wardens who wished to sit on the Council did so, and those might still skip meetings if called away on important business.

As Saketa walked down the single path that cut through all the circles, she counted eighteen elders. Almost all of them had been around during her training, or at least the later parts of it. All had their swords, of course, and most wore their black and red Warden suits, although a few settled for a red cloak.

“Council of Elders, Masters of the Peaks, Saketa Kan Tiro comes before you,” she said as she reached the centre.

“Welcome, Saketa,” Dahak said from his spot on the middle ring. He had the rod that marked him as Speaker. “Welcome back from your walk. I am glad to say that I sense you are more in balance than when you left, and I do not think anyone here will disagree with me.”

No one did. Saketa had encountered a couple of the people here before the meeting, but most of them were simply relying on their sensitivity.

“I meditated in the Temple of Waters,” Saketa told the assembled. “I feel confident in saying that I am almost as balanced as I can be without a new sword.”

“Yes,” Dahak said. “The issue of your sword.”

He stroked the scars of his broad face. It was his tick of contemplation.

“I have spoken to the smiths. Everything is at the ready for your new blade. The materials are gathered, and set aside. They have the exact measurements of your grip. All they need now is the permission of the Council. And all the Council needs now is final assurance of your suitability.”

“That you could summon the strength to slay the Exile Avanon was as promising a sign as one could ever have hoped for,” Mahi said. The squinty-eyed woman was one of the oldest of the elders. Age had bent her spine and shrivelled her limbs, but it had done nothing to diminish the aura of authority and power she held. “You have continued to do well since your return, Saketa. But there is the issue of whether to demand another final trial of you.“

Saketa simply listened without commenting.

“Your situation is not entirely without precedence. But it is rare enough that previous instances cannot be called tradition.”

The old woman drew her sword halfway out of its scabbard, and looked into the red blade.

“Now this vorasondu instance takes place, and in such a ferocious body too. It must be dealt with, obviously. But that this situation comes along, just as we are in need of a way to test you… some would call that fate.”

She slipped the sword back home.

“I would not, and I have made my voice clear on that. I do not believe fate would see all those people suffer so much in order to provide one person with a worthy challenge. But all that aside, we have a decision to make. It is generally believed that we already know your desires, Saketa. But do rule out all doubt and speak.”

“I will not expect any softer treatment than I got as a trainee,” Saketa said. “The earning of a sword is demanding, as it should be. It was lack of demand, combined with ignorance, that created the Exiles in the first place. But I also see no reason to go through the lesser stages. My skills and knowledge are not in question. I wish to skip, as of now, to the hardest part. To the darkness. Made darker still, by recent developments. I ask permission to be the one to seek out the vorasondu, in the Valley itself, rather than wait for it to emerge again.”

“You are speaking of a double test,” Dahak said.

“I am. As I said: I have proven that I can pass the usual tests. So why not?”

“Saketa… child…” Mahi said. “It was expecting too much of yourself that led to your breaking.”

She faced the elder fully and unflinchingly. Not in defiance, but in honesty.

“Yes. But I feel I have learned from the experience. I have faith that my assessments and expectations are more reasonable this time around.”

She gave her own heart one last little check.

“I know my own abilities. I know, for a simple fact, that few currently living Wardens are my match. I believe I can do this. Does the Council agree? I await its judgement.”

Considerations were short. The elders had already given full thought to all of this. The votes were cast, with a simple raising of hands. Thirteen were for, five against.

“A double test, then,” Dahak announced. “A great challenge, for one already proven against challenges. Saketa, to earn your sword you will walk the Valley of Vartana, as a regular trainee, and while there you will slay the vorasondu.”

Saketa bowed.

“As the Council wills. I will both walk in darkness, and strike against it.”