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Dreamwalker
By : mancer
Category: 1 through F > Avatar
Views: 12970 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar and I do not make any profits from this work.
Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Before getting to the meat of it, I'd like to thank all my awesome reviewers. While I'd still probably be working to finish the story, knowing that folks are actually enjoying my work gives me that warm fuzzy feeling that helps keep me going =) I just wanted to let you know I seriously appreciate every word. Thank you.

- If there are any Na'vi words you don't understand, I've taken to having footnotes at the end of each chapter with some translations to make your life easier. =)

Enjoy Chapter Ten!

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Chapter One

The Tawtute were sent home. Some, a chosen few, remained with the people. A time of war has come to an end – now it is time for recovery.

Standing among a group of hunters from nearly every clan, Rol'ei leaned against his bow, watching the parade of small aliens as they were marched back to their ship. His eyes strayed to the strange creatures, the in-betweens, who looked so similar to the People, yet little differences marked them. Their dress and weapons, at the moment, the most noticeable.

The Omaticaya Clan's people had worked with them, learned their language, their ways, since the Sky People first fell to Eywa's land. When he'd first seen the falling stars going into their territory, he'd sent runners from the Ikran Clan to gain information. Bit of tales, here and there, but until the battle, he'd never seen one of the Sky People.

“Oel ngati kameie, Singer.”

Rol'ei bowed to his leader, the beautiful Kame'awve. Her body still streaked red from her war paint.

Every time he looked on her hard, willowy body he felt a sense of pride. The Ikran Clan had never had a better leader, not in all the histories that he Sang to the younglings.

“Oel ngati kameie, Sister.”

“The Omaticaya Clan leaders have invited us to remain, for a ceremony at the Utral Aymokriya. Do you wish to remain?”

He nodded, his eyes traveling back to the stout little bodies.

“They have brought the clans back together. Is it the least we can do to honor that request. So many have been lost, it will help to bring our people back together.”

She nodded. Often she consulted her brother, but her mind was her own. Leading was her vocation; his was to tell the stories, sing the old songs, and teach.

“Very well. We will begin the march home after the ceremony.”

She left him then, to supervise the last of the aliens disappearing into their metal toruk.

He hummed to himself, standing tall while others ducked, as the behemoth creature belched out foul smoke and took wing. He modulated his voice until it vibrated at the same frequency as that huge roar.

Others of his tribe took up the keen, singing the joy in their hearts to see the last of the Sky People, singing that last long joyous note as the smoke tail lined the day's sky.

The silence that followed left a pointedly sad note to the victory.

He sighed. So much to rebuild.

Omaticaya's path stood longest before them. The other clans had lost hunters and mounts in the hundreds, but this clan had lost their home, their hope, their leader, their leader's successor, and many of their people to the aliens. Too many.

Rol'ei's toes stretched and flexed over the unnaturally hard, flat ground beneath his feet. No touch of Eywa here. No life, as he could see it. What would he Sing about the departed aliens? Easily they could become the stuff of children's nightmares, tales to scare and delight. Especially now, so soon after so many had died under their hand.

No, while other, lesser Singers might use this poor inspiration, he wouldn't reduce himself to that.

Surely, there were other things to Sing about? Other stories to be told?

The darkness of one of their homes called to him.

These aliens seemed to be creatures who liked... things. They didn't have just a loincloth, but many clothes, not just a bow and arrow but loud, bright, big weapons. Would they have hammocks? Would their colors be as bright inside their home as their clothing the wore? What did they carve their p'ah s'ivil chey from?

Not precisely furtive, he looked around to see if anyone noticed him.

Just another member of the fifteen clans standing around.

Many looked like they had jobs to do. If they truly did, he had no idea.

He used his bow as a walking stick, traveled slowly to disguise the injury he suffered from. The hard, unnatural ground did nothing to help the ache. He would tend to the wound in his thigh soon enough. Always more important things to deal with.

Just as his fingertips brushed the frame of the opening, another Na'vi stepped out, startling him. No, not a Na'vi.

“Oel ngati kame.” The other wore a huge grin, though his words were slow and precisely pronounced.

“Oel ngati kame ...” Rol'ei replied, searching for a term he hoped would suit without insulting. “Dreamwalker.”

“Dreamwalker?”

“You are one of the Sky People, are you not?”

This one stepped out into the light, his eyes going to the smoke tail in the sky, the last trace of the aliens sent back to their home. He must have missed their departure.

An odd smile lit his face. “I do not think I am one anymore. I'm Edward Cera.”

“Edwardcera-” Tol'ei began, slipping the long name together in the manner he had heard from the Omaticaya.

The dreamwalker held up a hand. “Please, just call me Ted.”

“I see you, Ted. I am Rol'ei, Singer to my clan.”

“It is an honor meeting you, Singer, I wish it could be under better circumstances.”

“Yes, I would-”

“Rol'ei!”

He turned to another member of his clan, a young, heavily muscled man who just connected to her ikran; his ceremony to manhood delayed because of the battle.

“Oel ngati kameie, Pxi.”

“The Olo'eyktan has called for all our able hunters to go into the woods and search for additional wounded.”

He nodded.

He turned back to the Dreamwalker. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him at the sight of one of Spirit Tree's seeds floating airily about his head, landing momentarily before a careless flick of the ear sent it on its way. The members of the Omaticaya Clan certainly didn't exaggerate when they spoke of these strange beings being Eywa-touched.

The other's head tilted a little. “Do you need aid?”

“No, we will take our ikran. We need to cover the ground quickly.”

“Of course, your pardon.”

“Farewell, Ted.”

“Farewell, perhaps we will speak again in a happier time.”

“Perhaps.”

“Come, Brothers and Sisters! We search for our fallen!”

With a sharp blast from the wooden whistle around his neck, he called his mount. Others whistled or yelped, a flurry of wings momentarily took up all the flat ground while his people mounted.

His ikran, Ratche, a dark blue female with flecks of purple and green along her sides and wings, cooed worriedly at him while he connected with her. Her injuries laid heavily on his body. He would not care for himself until he could see to her needs.

She bent as low as she could for him to swing up. He settled on her shoulders, her leather harness cut off during the battle, and urged her upwards.

* * *

All the people chanted, connecting bodily and mentally, as the bodies of the Torukmakto, Jakesully, were brought forward. The aches in Rol'ei's body fell away with the connection, his body simply a part of the whole with the minds of all the others pressing in on him.

It had been easy enough to accept that Jakeully had been brought into the clan, accepted as one of the people, when his proper body had been the only thing Rol'ei had seen. Now that he could see that Torukmakto, too, had a stunted body like the rest of the aliens opened up strange feelings inside of him.

A hush fell as Eywa made her decision, to keep her chosen warrior in the body of her people, or to take him into herself.

His heart raced, as all the people's did. From his place close to the front, thanks to his sister's standing, he could see Neytiri, the future leader of her clan, lean over his small, broken body, then turn to his proper one.

A tense moment. All holding their breath.

They felt his first breath like their lungs had never tasted air before. She clutched him to her breast.

Rol'ei felt a thousand tears fall down the curve of a thousand cheeks. For all that they had lost, one had been found. Chosen and blessed by the Mother like few others in their long histories.

He wiped his own cheek, smiled at his sister, and joined the ululation.

* * *

“I am going to stay here, Sister.”

His leader glared at him a moment, before looking back at her people organizing below them. Many injured had been found, needed nursing. The healthy and the walking wounded would drag the injured home. So many ikran killed in battle.... Many would have to walk. A long trip indeed. His thigh ached at the thought.

“What brought this idea to you?”

“There is a Song here, Sister, a story that will need to be told.”

“And you can not get this story from a runner later? When everyone is home and safe?”

He shook his head. “It is not the same. Too much I have already missed. I must listen to as much as I can, learn it, so I can Sing it for the next generation to know, to learn from our mistakes.”

“How many of our people have been hurt, killed? We need someone to sing our clan songs of strength, of hope.”

He laughed.

“You sing as well as I do of strength. The forest will forever know this story, but we need to know it as well.”

They gripped each other's shoulders, said their farewells. Rol'ei watched as his clan disappeared into the forest.

* * *

Rol'ei made sure to position himself next to one of those Dreamwalkers as they moved logs. Luckily, he found himself paired up with the one he met earlier, the Ted Dreamwalker. Perhaps working side-by-side he'd be able to ask him the questions that'd been burning at the back of his mind.

Most of the fires had died out, but Kelutrel had been mighty. His life had a lot of energy to it, a lot of fuel for a great inferno. And, amazingly, with all of the great tree's mass, occasionally pockets of fresh air had been trapped, along with survivors. Every Na'vi found either well, hurt, or even passed on brought renewed hope, and pushed those striving to clear the debris to move faster, push exhausted bodies harder. Some of the aliens even used those mechanical monstrosities to bring water in, cut the larger pieces of wood into smaller, more manageable ones.

Rol'ei couldn't help but stare at the Dreamwalker as they worked together with nearly silent intensity. The strange, overlarge hands, with their extra finger, unnerved him.

“Here, get under.” He directed Ted, they placed their bodies under the hulking mass of a broken branch, used leg muscles to shove up on the wood. A third, one of the Pa'li Clan who hadn't left yet, reached under and retrieved yet another body.

“Can't take much more of this!”

Rol'ei opened his mouth to agree with the sentiment when the great branch slipped from the Dreamwalker's shoulder. The weight on Rol'ei alone shoved his body downward into the broken branches below him.

He hissed in pain. The others shouted, the horse woman screaming for help as the Dreamwalker scrambled, grunting, skin slick with dampness fighting for purchase.

Others of the clan came and lifted the log enough to him dragged out.

He groaned aloud.

“Rol'ei? Rol'ei!”

He blinked up, a dark face silhouetted against the bright sky behind him.

“Oh thank the mother. He's awake. Stay with us please.”

“Awake?”

His eyes couldn't focus quite right. He reached out, his fingers touching the cheek above him, tracing the curve of the light on the stranger's cheek. Just a simple little touch, that caress of light, bringing a glow into the warm skin. Dampness under his fingertips?

“Keep your eyes open, here, drink.”

Cold water passed over his lips. Stale and metallic. He spat it out.

“Please, drink. They're going to get one of the shaman.”

The next sip he did take. The taste lingered.

“Here, let me look at you.” Rough hands passed over his body. He looked up, shocked that Mo'at, the Omaticaya Tsahik herself, looked after his wounds.

“I am honored you would treat me.”

“Fah. Honor means nothing. Your feet are punctured, so is your thigh. Your back is scraped.”

She drew down his eyelid, pinched a bit of flesh here and there.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Rol'ei's silence answered that for her.

“Take him to the clearing, make him eat and wash his wounds. Singer, I care not that your sister is Olo'eyktan. For me you are just another wounded. Do not waste my time. And you,” she turned on the Dreamwalker. “Have more care. If I find you dropping more charred logs on wounded hunters I'll snip off your tail.”

“Yes, ma'am, I hear you.”

“Rest,” she said to Rol'ei. “We need able bodies helping.”

With that she turned back with a huff, several younglings traveling behind in her wake.

“I'm so sorry, Rol'ei. I should have warned you sooner I couldn't hold up my side of the log. Here, let me help you up.”

The Dreamwalker lifted him, tucking an arm around Rol'ei's ribcage.

Rol'ei watched the ground carefully as they made their slow way to the clearing. Climbing over charred remains left him further exhausted. Staring at his feet, where he placed them, and his companion's wrapped feet became his total world, until the hills of wood were replaced with ash strewn ground.

“You know, when I first saw those, I thought they made you sound like an angtsik.”

“Those?” the Dreamwalker set him down as gently as he could on a rock, before collapsing next to him.

Rol'ei waved to his tan colored foot coverings. “We keep our feet bare, so we can feel the soil beneath us, can use our toes to grip as we run and climb.”

He smiled. “Well, that didn't serve you too well today.”

Rol'ei nodded. He lifted one foot to examine it. Splinters of blackened wood marred the surface.

“Oh that looks painful. Here, let me look at that. Ted, could you get me some clean water and some more gauze?”

This Dreamwalker's speech had a softer, lilting cadence. Her smile just as quick as the other, Ted's. She had a huge case with her, full of bottles and bunches of folded cloth. Her hair had been pulled back in a plain, single braid. Her clothes, like those of the other dream walkers, covered most of her torso. She wore the same foot coverings as the rest, but unlike the others, she also had strange white hand coverings, very tight against her skin.

Rol'ei finally looked around him, at all the others spread out in the clearing. Some in little clusters talking quietly, others stretched out on great cloths, groaning. One of the aliens bustled around the groups, touching shoulders, offering food, drink.

“I’m Lisa, and we're doing triage here, helping those who've been injured.” Her deft hands plucked at his skin as she clarified in a language he understood. “Looks like you've had quite an adventure today.”

“I am Rol’ei. If you could see to my feet so I can get back out there. There is much to be done. Mo'at said I needed to rest, but-”

She nodded. “Rest is the best medicine. When did that thigh wound happen?”

“In the battle.”

“It’s beginning to fester. I'll clean out your feet, and the scrapes on your shoulders, but that is going to need some more intensive work. May I examine it?”

“Of course.”

She gripped his knee used it to rotate his hip socket. He winced. Her fingers pressed against the wound, forced it to seep out some foul fluid. She repositioned him again, reached between his legs to feel the underside of his thigh.

“Looks like the bullet is still in there. Maybe two? Looks like your fell on top of the entry wound.”

“I fell from my ikran, yes.”

“Well congratulations, warrior, you’ve made it to the top of my list of those to care for.”

She put a cooling compress against the top of his thigh. “This has painkillers in it. It will only numb a small area. I don’t have enough for everyone to give you enough of a dose to knock you out. Will you be okay if I keep you awake while I work?”

“Save whatever you need to for the others.”

She grinned at him. He felt the force of this charismatic female. She probably had no shortage of males looking for her to choose them.

Never one to leave silence be, especially with a lovely female picking charred remains of another tribe’s home from his bloody feet, Rol’ei sought some topic to occupy himself with.

“Do you sing?”

“Sing?”

“You’re voice is melodic enough.”

She laughed. “I haven’t sung in ages.”

“Haven’t sung in ages, Lisa? You bring shame to the avocation. I should teach the great ballads of my tribe. Why, one comes to mind of,” he hissed in pain as she pored some sharply scented fluid over the gaping holes in his freshly de-wooded right foot. “Of the legacy of the five riders of Toruk.”

“You’ll have to add to that ballad now. There have been six riders.”

“Yes, I’m working on just that. I…”

Rol’ei’s eyes focused over the female’s shoulder while she bent to work on the left foot.

Standing perhaps ten cubits away, the male dreamwalker he’d been working with, stared at the two of them, frozen as if the world passed on without him.

“Ah, it seems our friend has returned.”

She looked over her shoulder. “Ted! Get your skinny blue ass over here.”

His footsteps shuffled even louder this time. The milk-white jug he dropped sloshed and shifted on the ground. He held a sack filled with other items. The female set down her plucking instrument.

“I brought what you asked for.”

“A lot more than that, by the look of it. What do you have?”

He ducked his head. “Nothing of interest.”

She looked at him, her head tilting a moment, before a big grin pulled her lips back.

“Set your ass down next to Rol’ei here. I’m going to have a look at you next. Did you bring any cups with that water? He could use a drink.”

“No, I didn’t think-“ She grabbed the cloth on his sleeve, stopping him from getting up again.

“Never mind. Can you drink from cupped hands?” She mimicked with her own. Rol’ei nodded. “Then pour him as much as he can take. I’ll take a look at your shoulders, but then we need to work on that thigh.”

Rol’ei cupped his hands tightly to capture the water that shaky hands poured. The female got behind him, her fingers plucking at unseen splinters.

This water tasted fresher, cooler. He greedily gulped several handfuls, the jug collapsed partway as his stomach sloshed.

“I thank you. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.”

“The ash’ll do that to you,” the female said over his shoulder. “Almost done here.”

She retrieved some of the clean cloth and spread it over his shoulders.

“I put a little more of the painkilling ointment on those. Some of the scrapes looked like they hit your shoulder blades. I’m going to probe a little deeper into the wound. If I hear a tick, then I know that there’s some metal in there.”

“And if there is still metal in there?”

“It will have to come out.”

Rol’ei sighed and nodded. Others had lived through far worse in the past couple days. He could survive this.

She retrieved a long thing metal probe from her vase, wiped it, and pulled off the painkilling cloth. With a smooth motion, she inserted the metal. The fishing feeling hurt the most, the methodical lifting, repositioning, and delving back in. Rol’ei squeezed his eyes shut, his hands tightly gripped he lip of the rock he sat on.

“I'm going as fast as I can,” the female said through grit teeth. “If you can not hold your legs still, I can ask Ted to hold it for you.”

“I will remain still.”

She grunted in reply. The probe went in again, this time, he felt the resolute tap she was looking for.

“I think I found your bullet. I'm going to get it out, but I'm going to need to open you up a bit more before I can get it.”

The male scooted closer to him, throwing one arm around his shoulders, the other took a firm grip of his nearer hand. He looked down at their joined hands.

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http://indanthronecomics.deviantart.com/art/Hands-186602954

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“It's traditional, among my people,” the female said, helpfully, “To grip onto another, for emotional support. This will be painful.”

Rol'ei clenched his jaw, still staring at their joined hands. “Work quickly.” If she said this would be painful, and had not warned of the pain before, it could only get worse.

Her hand tightened on his knee for a moment, before she got more tools. She poured a liquid over them, over his leg, scrubbed a little with her hands. He stared a the clinging pale covering on her hands. She brought a tiny, bright knife to his skin. He almost laughed that she would use such a small thing on him, but with a quick darting motion, the flesh of his thigh blossomed open. For a moment he felt nothing, then the pain hit.

He squeezed onto Ted's hand, keeping his leg as still as he could while she worked.

“If you need to scream, do so, it helps.”

Fine beads of sweat lined her brow.

“Damn, wish you were human. Then we could just leave the bullet in.”

Rol'ei growled as she inserted tongs into the wound she made.

“Can't give you our antibiotics, thank Eywa our painkillers work on you at least. Aha! There, I have it.”

He scream out then. His fingers and toes curled tight.

“Easy, easy, I have you.”

Cool fingers stroked his back in idle circles. He focused on the gentle caress as the pain in his thigh ebbed to something more manageable.

“Got it out. Do you want it?”

He opened his eyes. She had a crushed hunk of blood at the end of her instrument. He held open his free hand. She dropped it into his palm. He thumbed away his own blood and tissue. It looked beautiful, in its own way.

“I will keep it, for now.”

“We're only halfway done. I need to search if there's a second bullet, then clean everything and close up. Do you need a break?”

He shook his head. “Just be quick.”

He gripped onto Ted's hand tightly as she went back to fishing. He watched, though he could barely stand it. Finally, she set down her tools, and picked up a brush and a small bottle. She poured burning fluid on top of the wound she'd enlarged and scrubbed into it.

“I need to clean out anything that might have caused the wound to fester. I don't know if it was the bullet itself or debris from the fall.”

He grit his teeth and remained silent.

She worked quickly, but the pain increased like a steady tide against the rocks, leaving him battered and bruised and lost at sea.

“I think we're loosing him.”

“Skxawng! Faaa... Get him laying down. I'm going to cauterize this to seal it quickly.”

Rol'ei heard their voices, felt as Ted slid him into a reclined position, had nothing in him to fight against it.

“Hold his leg down, he'd going to thrash.”

Firm hands gripped onto his leg, one right against his hipbone, the other just above the knee.

He screamed as the firebrand shot into him. Clawed at the body on top of him, holding him down, making him vulnerable to the pain.

At last, at long last, the darkness took him.

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Individuals

Kame'awve – Olo'ekytan of the Ikran Clan (she was in the movie, but unnamed)

Lisa – Lisa Furlan, medic and language expert

Rol'ei – Singer for the Ikran Clan

Ted – Edward Cera, Avatar ethnobotanist. A specialist in nutritional values of Pandoran plants.

Omaticaya Clan – main characters' clan

Pa'li Clan and Ikran Clan are mentioned, and in later chapters I also have the Nantang Clan,e tc

Kelutrel, or Hometree – burnt down, the scene for a lot of my fic

Utral Aymokriya, Tree of Voices, the great spirit tree that the Omaticaya Clan has retreated to.

Tsahaylu (Ted commonly mis-says "the halo" without realizing it) - the bond/neural connection

Tsahik - shaman, matriarch

Olo'eyktan - clan leader

Tawtute – Sky People

Critters -

Ikran (Banshee) – Four-winged flying mount, wingspan 13.9 meters (with Sea ikran easily reaching 15 or more)

Pa'li (Direhorse) – six-legged horse mount, 4 meters tall

Angtsik (Hammerhead Titanothere) – like a hammerhead shark and a rhino had a demon love-child

Toruk (Leonopteryx) – “biggest thing in the sky” dragon-like main predator of the sky

Phrases

Oel ngati kameie – I See you

Skxawng! – Moron!

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Dreamwalker	By : mancer Category: 1 through F > Avatar Views: 12970 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar and I do not make any profits from this work.

Dreamwalker