Pronunciation Guide

threiseya - threh-SAE-yah - blood brother

Avak'kara

Gabriel stepped out of the shower closet, golden steam billowing around him as he dried himself off. He huffed a few times, tasting the air to make sure he'd washed away the scent of humans and their world. Hunger gnawed at him now that his stomach was no longer full of liquor, but Gabriel ignored its growling and strode for the bunk room. He needed to stay focused for what was coming.

Djesharu and Okute were nowhere in sight when Gabriel entered. A small blessing. Djesharu was perceptive. He'd know something was up. Okute would smell the tension and pester Gabriel incessantly until he'd finally give in and tell them his secret.

Five pairs of empty bunks lined the narrow entryway, a three-legged table in the shape of a rounded triangle and several short stools clustered in the corner, an unfinished yancala game scattered across its surface. The ceiling pulsed with a soft orange glow, illuminating the graffiti from past threiyan, names, dates, kills, art and crude messages littering the walls and floor.

Gabriel approached the space between his bunk and tapped a few keys, a vertical compartment in the wall sliding out to reveal two sets of armor. He slipped on his regular outfit, polished black and silver metal settling over his warm skin. He spared a glance at the ceremonial armor, wondering if he should wear it instead. The sight triggered dormant scent memories, Gabriel shuddering in remembrance.

Females in heat. The scent of wine. A clash of swords. Fangs sinking into his shoulder.

With a soft whirr, the compartment disappeared back inside the wall, along with the memories. Gabriel didn't need the distraction. Besides, it was too formal. He needed armor he could move in, just in case.

Hands clenched at his sides, he began his search.

The door to the training room spiraled open and Gabriel hesitated. The arbiter danced across the raised dais, spear twirling in his hands with the grace of a master. He almost walked away, his fear trying to come up with excuses to postpone the inevitable conversation.

Gabriel slowly entered the room, keeping silent as he waited for H'darak to acknowledge his presence.

As his eyes tracked each perfect thrust and slash, he tried to understand what was it about the arbiter that inspired such uncertainty in him. If anything, he should be angry for the arbiter using him as a pawn to fix the mistakes of his father and uncle. And for letting him believe he was free once he was blooded. Instead, Gabriel found himself always feeling like the untrained and ignorant yaut'ja H'darak had taken onto his ship all those years ago. The arbiter could've killed him. Should have, if the rumors Gabriel had picked up on were true. But he hadn't. Yet.

The arbiter held the keys to Gabriel's future. Life and death were his to mete out. Gabriel didn't fear death, not anymore. No, thought Gabriel as he watched H'darak go through the final stances of the spear dance, death wasn't what scared him. Failure scared him. Failure to secure peace for what as left of his human clan. After that, his future and his fate no longer mattered.

H'darak relaxed his stance, the dance done, and turned his attention to the young blood waiting for him. He twirled his spear, slamming it against the training dais. "Zaiyende."

"Arrakai H'darak." His former pupil gave a slight bow of his head.

H'darak raised an eyebrow but gestured for the young warrior to approach. The spear hissed as it retracted, the silver weapon laying across his thighs as he sat cross-legged. Zaiyende followed suit, sitting within two handspans of the arbiter. He kept his eyes averted, hands resting on his knees.

Polite. Respectful. Silent. And no weapons, H'darak noted as his gaze swept over the young threita. Suspicion niggled at the back of his mind, his gut telling him something was up. "Either Ul'juska has finally managed to get etiquette through that thick skull of yours, or… you want something. What is it, Zaiyende?" His crimson eyes narrowed, curiosity glinting within their depths as his former student lifted his eyes to meet his.

"I know I have no right to ask this, especially since my request to return to this world was already fulfilled, but…" the young warrior's fists clenched and H'darak sensed his choler rising. "I can't leave. Not yet."

H'darak felt his own ire rising, a mandible twitching in irritation, but he kept his silence. He would at least hear the other warrior out before denying him.

"I've learned something terrible happened after I left Navarra. The yaut'ja who claim this world as their hunting grounds, they attacked the huunan'de because we killed one of their warriors. Many died. I cannot let such an injustice go unanswered."

"You want blood."

"I want vengeance."

"Why?"

Zaiyende tensed, searching the arbiter's face for his thoughts. H'darak kept them guarded, not yet willing to show the male his disappointment. Or his anger.

"Because they are clan, arrakai. They saved my life. They treated me as an equal and trusted me."

Madness. All of it. Had the boy learned nothing?

"Because they killed both of my fathers and both of my mothers. They killed and slaughtered without honor. I will not turn my back on them when I know I can do something to stop it from ever happening again."

H'darak growled. "What you ask cannot be done. You are not staying. The elders would never allow it. "

"I never said I was staying, arrakai."

The arbiter paused, uncertain yet hopeful. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we go to the other hunters' world and slay them. Every last one of them. I know you know where they are. Your maps show secrets Ul'juska's doesn't."

H'darak's eyes widened, surprise causing his crest to flair slightly. He hadn't expected this. A request to stay longer, perhaps. Zaiyende had spent too much time with the aliens and too little with his own kind. Making war against their own kind, though...

The arbiter hardened his gaze, measuring the threita. His softness was gone, replaced by hard muscle. Scars decorated his flesh, his eyes lingering on the blood mark across Zaiyende's forehead. But beneath the outward strength he projected, H'darak sensed something else. Tired eyes, simmering rage, clenched fists. The yautja before him was not the same one who'd disembarked only a few days before. Did Zaiyende truly want revenge for the sake of some lesser beings? Why?

"Are you saying you want your blood brothers and your sanja to risk their lives just because another clan killed a few suyet'de huunan?"

"They saved me. They tried to save Nayadhi. They could have left me to die. Or put me in a cage and cut me open. But they didn't. They fed me and sheltered me. They taught me how to ride and hunt-"

"They taught you weakness," H'darak snapped.

Zaiyende growled softly. "They taught me more than you know. I will not repay their gifts with cowardice." The taboo word lingered between them like a foul stench, H'darak unconsciously distancing himself from the threita. There were few things worse or more widely condemned than the sin of self-preservation out of fear. Lesser beings felt fear. Prey felt fear. But not yaut'ja.

Zaiyende, sensing an opening, pressed his case. "You killed the korvakra who was killing huunan'de when you found me. These yaut'ja did worse. They did not hunt worthy adversaries. They are without honor-"

H'darak snarled and unsheathed his spear, the tip stopping within millimeters of Zaiyende's face. How dare he try to use the code against him.

"Do you wish to die, threita?"

"Not here. But if I die fighting my avak'kara, then I die. If I live, then I go back to Dhazar'yin and the elders can do what they like with me. I don't care."

Avak'kara. Blood enemy.

The arbiter seethed. The threita was trying to invoke a blood oath. Once sworn, a yaut'ja was obligated to pursue his nemesis until he achieved victory or death claimed him. H'darak clenched his fangs into a deep snarl. "You would throw away your honor and your life on a fool's errand?"

"They're mine to do with as I will."

"You ask me to violate our laws." Which you've already done so many times. His inner voice mocked him, made him hesitate.

"I'm asking you to uphold the laws. Let me face my avak'kara. It is my right as a blooded warrior-"

The arbiter's arm twitched and the spear slashed Zaiyende across the side of his face, hot blood oozing from the shallow cut. To his credit, Zaiyende had not flinched. "Do not lecture me on the code! Just because you stabbed a few serpents does not give you the leeway to invoke a blood oath."

"That's enough, arrakai."

H'darak released a snapping click of frustration as he stood, whirling to face to Ul'juska. "Stay out of this, Athende." He slammed his spear to the ground for emphasis, the threat clear.

"Zaiyende is still under my charge and he bears my mark. I can hold him to his oath even if you refuse."

The arbiter closed the distance between himself and the other male until they were mere inches apart, H'darak's hands flexing in anger. Their eyes locked, heady musks mingling as the tension between the two veteran warriors quickly morphed into barely suppressed aggression. The air between them began to warp under the intense heat emanating from their bodies.

"Choose your next words carefully," the arbiter hissed.

"He is the only son of my wayward h'seiya. I will not risk losing him and thus ending his bloodline just so you can save face." Ul'juska slowly placed his hand on the hilt of his spear. "Or shall we settle this another way?"

H'darak growled but backed off. "You assume much about my intentions."

"Then know mine: We are going to pursue this rogue clan so that I can repay them for killing my h'seiya and erasing whatever meaning I'd managed to scrape together after sacrificing my honor."

"And then what?"

"We part ways. You can return to triumphantly to Yarran and I'll continue teaching the worthless bastards they throw my way."

H'darak didn't seem convinced, but he didn't argue, his anger fading behind the emotionless barrier that Gabriel had come to know and loathe so well during their time together. "So be it." The arbiter turned his hardened gaze upon Gabriel, the ritual words like an invisible noose around Gabriel's neck, slowly drawing tight with every breath.

"Do you understand what you're asking?"

"Saa."

"Do you swear to uphold your oath or die in the attempt?"

"Saa."

"And do you understand what you must do if you fail?"

"Saa."

"Then shed your blood for all to see."

H'darak handed his ritual knife to Gabriel and he quickly slashed his palm, bright, crimson drops dripping between his clenched fist.

"It is done. Those who have witnessed the oath are now bound to its fulfillment." With those final words, the arbiter stalked out of the training room, the young bloods crowding the hallway behind the door giving him plenty of room as he passed.

The temporary relief Gabriel felt at his victory was briefly tinged with guilt at his selfishness as Ul'juska approached him. By declaring avak'kara, he had forced his teacher and his pack brothers into an undesirable position. The pair remained silent for long moments, the acid tension left by H'darak lingering in the air. His uncle huffed. "So, what's the plan?"

"Plan?"

"This is your hunt."

Gabriel crossed his arms. "H'darak will know where the enemy is. Once we arrive at the planet, we'll need to scout it. The huunan'de estimated a dozen warriors attacked them. Maybe more."

"Twelve against six? Even your luck isn't that good," Djesharu growled as he approached them. "Our skulls will be decorating their doorways."

"What if some of the huunan'de came with us?"

For a moment, neither warrior reacted to the suggestion, as if he just spoken gibberish.

"Huunan'de? They wouldn't last a second. They are too small and weak," Ul'juska hissed.

Okute chortled. "Maybe they can throw themselves in the way of the enemy's spears." He contorted his face into wild surprise and made a clumsy half-dive in front of a non-existent spear barreling towards Djesharu. Djesharu tripped Okute and shoved him to the ground. While the two began to bicker, Aish'katal and Kachente egged them on. The pair often took bets on Okute and Djesharu's frequent fights.

"Enough!" Ul'juska's bark quieted the pack. "If no one else has anything useful to say, then leave or be silent."

The threita bowed their heads in silence and Ul'juska returned his attention to Gabriel. "What makes you think the huunan'de want to fight?"

"The korvakra took everything from them. They hunger for revenge. And they're stronger than you know."

Ul'juska grunted. "We shall see. When do we leave?"

"I'm not sure yet. I need to talk to the warriors of the huunan'de to see if they can contact other clans for help. So we may leave tomorrow. Or we may leave in a few weeks."

"Weeks?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Huunan'de craft are slower."

"I see…" Without another word, his uncle strode out of the training room and disappeared.

Gabriel watched the door seal shut, an uneasy feeling squeezing his gut. He didn't have time to reflect on it though, Djesharu and Okute surrounding him.

"Our sanja named you well, threiseya. You are always charging into situations you don't understand and yet somehow you continue to breathe."

The compliment caught Gabriel off guard. "Djesharu-"

His pack brother held up a hand. "There's something I need to discuss with you."

"Now."

He shook his head. "H'ko. I will find you when it is time."

Gabriel grunted in acknowledgment and Djesharu walked away, leaving Okute to pester him and chitter excitedly. He ignored him, holding up his hand and squeezing it into a tight fist, watching a thin line of glowing blood leak from his palm. He couldn't afford to doubt himself. The oath had been made, the blood drawn. I swear on the dead, I'm going to kill every last one of those murdering bastards. No matter what.