Nearly two weeks had gone by since they had spoken to Varth. He had told them he would contact them when they needed to know something, but Trychon and Raezyr were beginning to feel as if the Sith Lord had forgotten.
Their days were uneventful, filled with daily chores and learning their new trades. Both men were progressing well in their apprenticeships, and Trychon was even learning a bit of the brewing art from Mathias. But still, most evenings they were able to slip away after supper for some lightsaber training or meditation.
This evening they had some extra time as supper had been early. Raezyr had steadily improved during their sparring matches, despite the disadvantage of only having a short blade, and Trychon was becoming increasingly frustrated by it.
Raezyr had beaten Trychon in three consecutive matches so far tonight, and Trychon had had enough. They began circling each other warily, tensed to begin their fourth session, when Raezyr lunged forward suddenly, catching Trychon off guard.
Since he had been limited to his short blade, he had been letting Trychon take the first offensive, opting for a more defensive posture during their fights, and waiting for Trychon to make a mistake.
This time he had switched tactics. Apparently Raezyr was feeling comfortable enough to bring the fight to his older brother, despite being at a disadvantage.
After catching Trychon off guard, he continued pressing his advantage. Trychon backpedaled as fast as he could, trying to put just a bit of distance between them, but Raezyr's strokes were constantly inside his guard.
Finally he could think of nothing else, and gathering the Force, he pushed it outward with all his might.
Raezyr threw up his mental shield at the last moment, but the sheer force of the blow shoved him backwards, although he was still standing after the wave had passed. He glanced down and noticed two shallow furrows, 2 meters long each, in the dirt where his feet had slid.
Suddenly warning bells went off inside Raezyr's head, and he shut his blade off. He could feel the attention of several beings being directed toward them.
Trychon had apparently noticed it as well. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he said, chiding himself as he slipped the metallic cylinder of his own lightsaber back inside his robes.
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