Chapter X

Oh, to be a young man at sea! So great was Luke's life-long enthusiasm to travel aboard a grand sea-faring vessel and taste the freedom of the salty air that he could hardly contain his joy now that his fervent desire had at last become a reality, even if the vessel in question was far less grand than he had always imagined. He scuttled restlessly about the deck taking in all the sights, sometimes standing at the prow to stare at the horizon, sometimes watching Arthur assist the Falcon's captain and mate in an effort to learn everything about the sailing arts. Sir Kenobi, with the patience of a wise old guardian, allowed his pupil this freedom for the first day, remembering with a wistful smile the first time he himself, then a young squire, had set out to sea. He was not yet so old that he could not remember the excitement that such a new experience could stir up in one so young. Besides, they had not yet lost sight of the mainland before Mr. Threepeo had become so violently ill, his face green and beaded with sweat, that good old Sir Benjamin was forced to devote the bulk of his attention on the first day to nursing the manservant back to health.

On the second day of their voyage, however, the old master informed Luke that it was time for his training in the ways of knighthood to begin.

"You are armed with a fine blade," Sir Benjamin said, nodding at the sword buckled around the young man's waist, "And heaven only knows how soon you may be called upon to use it. We shall begin your instruction in the basics of self-defense."

And so, with the assistance of a pair of broomsticks borrowed from the Falcon's hold, Sir Kenobi and young Luke began a course of instruction in the parry-thrust-riposte of the gentlemanly art of fencing, which endeavour occupied the bulk of their attention during the next several days of the voyage. The loud clack of the sticks meeting each other in these exercises always brought the attention of the other inhabitants of the vessel, and so Luke often had a small audience witnessing his clumsy first attempts to learn the blade.

"Ignore them," Kenobi said, "And keep your eyes on me. Now we will continue to practice your parries. You must sense from which direction I will attack and defend appropriately. Trust your instincts."

Young Luke struggled to do as his mentor instructed, tuning out the brash laughter of Captain O'Solo and directing his full attention to the matter at hand. In a blink, old Kenobi slashed his broomstick towards the young man's left, which he barely managed to deflect with a parry in the style in which he had been instructed. He had already begun to rejoice his success when three more attacks came in quick succession. Luke blocked the first clumsily, and then had no chance to rally his composure for the remaining two. Each fell upon his body smartly with enough force that they would surely leave a bruise.

O'Solo howled with laughter at that, causing Luke to turn a deep shade of red and round upon the man ferociously. "I'd like to see you try to do it, then!"

"Nay, not I, lad," the captain returned with a grin, "I'm more like to chop me own hand off than do any good with that. Give me but a trusty pistol by me side and I am a happy man. 'Tis better than a blade on any day o' the week, no lie. A knight is a fine and dandy thing, but beggin' your pardon old sir, 'tis no longer much of use in these modern days, I say." His native companion Choo-ee growled assent in his exotic tongue.

"You're wrong!" Luke protested, "A knight is the best warrior there is!"

Sir Benjamin smiled and said nothing, but merely prodded Luke gently back to his studies. "Come now, young squire," he said, "We must try a different approach, I think. You're waiting until you see my blade moving before you move to defend, which is already too late."

Luke scoffed as though the old man were joking. "How am I to know which way to defend unless I see the direction which the attack is coming?"

"You place much stock in the power of your eyes," Benjamin replied, "Let us see how you do without them." He pulled a length of canvas from his pocket which Luke recognized has a piece that has been trimmed off an old sail. Without a word the old knight tied the fabric around his pupil like a blindfold, securing it firmly to ensure not the slightest chance of sight.

"Now," he said when his task was done, "Parry my attacks."

Luke gave the nervous laugh of a schoolboy. "But this is impossible! Must I simply guess where to send my parries?"

"You have many senses," Sir Kenobi explained, "You must use them all. Trust your instincts, be aware of all around you, and you will know what to do."

There was a long pause. Luke's breathing calmed and his put into practice his master's instructions. His knees bent in readiness, and his whole frame took on the impression of a tiger ready at any moment to leap upon its prey. Suddenly, the old knight swung his stick towards the boy's right. But Luke was already raising his defense, and the two sticks met in a loud clack. Sir Kenobi paused only a moment, then struck twice more in rapid succession. Luke parried them both with fluid ease.

"Well done," the master said, beaming with pride.

Luke could barely contain his joy as he removed the blindfold. He ran to embrace the old man enthusiastically. "Incredible! It can scarcely be believed! Mr. Threepeo, Arthur, did you see? Did you see? I fought like a true knight! What do you say to that, Captain?"

The Irishman clapped appreciately, but shook his head with doubt. "Aye, lad, well done. But I say 'twas luck more than skill that saved ye, but 'twas some trick to be sure."

That night the Captain informed them they were making good time and would meet the blockade by morning. For the first time since their narrow escape from Tatooineshire, Luke felt a chill of fear. He looked to his master for comfort, but saw a gloomy and dark look in the old man's face.

"Is something wrong?" Luke asked with a show of obvious concern.

"I have a strange feeling," the knight replied, "A premonition of sorts, perhaps. I feel as though something terrible has happened."

"Something terrible? Good heavens!" Luke gasped, "Like what?"

His master shook his head as though he could shake off his feelings of dread. "I do not know, but we may find out soon enough. I pray I am wrong."

"Do you think I will be ready to fight if necessary, Sir Benjamin?" the young man asked.

"I doubt it not," the venerable man replied, "But do not trouble yourself, young Luke. I suspect your courage will be called upon for more than just combat, and that you will be more than equal to the challenge."

But in the morning when the sun revealed the seas near their destination, there wasn't sign of a single French ship, a fact that caused the good captain no small amount of worry. He climbed to the top of the mast and peered about on all sides through his spyglass, but there was no sail on the horizon nor any sign that a ship had passed this way in days.

"Well," he said at last, "'twas very helpful of the Frenchies to clear out in advance of our comin'. I s'pose we should count ourselves lucky men, eh, Choo-ee?"

The noble savage growled back doubtfully.

"Aye, I'm with ya there," the captain replied, "I can't bring meself to believe we'd get off that easy. We never have before, have we now? Keep an eye out, friend. I have me an unpleasant premonition about this whole journey."

It was nearing noon when they caught sight of land. After consulting with a map, the captain determined they were only a few leagues northeast of Alderaan-upon-Avon, and should be coming up on the port within an hour.

After a quarter of that time, they could already see the smoke, black on the blue horizon like ink in a fresh pool of water. Soon they could smell it, the odor of destruction and death. When they rounded a curve in the shore and found themselves at the mouth of the city's harbor, they all gasped at the sight, as though the very image that lay before them had struck them each in the gut and stolen their breath from them.

Alderaan lay in ruins and in flames, its buildings a heap of burning rubble, it's streets littered with the dead, its docks blocked by mounds of sunken and destroyed ships. There was no sign of movement or of life.

The city was no more.