[Author's note: Thanks once again for the support people :) At any rate, here it is - the next instalment. I really need to write faster, but then again it was holiday season and I'm tackling another fanfic at the same time. If people don't like where the story is heading in some aspects or think some ideas are not welcome ones etc, just let me know. I don't want to aggravate any of the AvP fans after all if an idea is severely disliked.]
Chapter 2:
A Promise of Blood and Glory
The years passed quickly for Tygrhen. Training both his body and his mind consumed most of his time. He frequently went on hunts, learning new tricks by studying his elders. All the while, Qui'aleen saw to the task of teaching Tygrhen human speech. The boy soon perfected it, speaking it as fluently as any Earth-born human.
While Tygrhen only stood at a height of six feet and three inches, he still maintained strength equal to any Yautja male of the same age. Being smaller than his brothers, he had greater agility and speed to his Yautja counterparts. Having the stamina endurance of his clansmen, he could outrun many of the beasts which most hunters simply gave up on if their initial strike failed. He would often practice his long range hunting skills by frightening the quicker animals then chasing them. He would do it for mere practice, so after tackling them down and capturing them he would simply release them.
News of frequent attacks on Yautja tribes was spreading through the clans. At first it was but individuals who were being slain. Their bodies would be found with injuries dealt by Yautja weaponry. There was only one incidence where a fallen Yautja's mask was recovered. The video feed of the warrior's last moments was reviewed and from this it was evident that Vae'zan was the culprit. Tribes sent out hunting parties to search for the bad blood, each warrior hoping to gain the glory of slaying the infamous warrior. It was then things took a turn for the worse, for those who entered the great hunt never returned. As time progressed, outlying communities started to disappear and none knew why. No bodies were found, nor any clue as to what had happened. Times were growing desperate as tribes argued amongst each other, blaming one another for the abductions. The very news of Vae'zan provided reason enough for Tygrhen to push himself to his limits and beyond with his training. The new threat lingering on the darkened horizon of a setting sun exacerbated his desire for growing in strength and ability.
Tygrhen lay awake on the floor of his dwelling. It had been several years since he and Kraezak moved out of their shared parent's hut, obtaining a domicile of their own. Though they were in the same camp and thus still nearby, it was more the act of acquiring a humble abode of their own that symbolised growing independence and maturity.
A chill swept up Tygrhen's arm. Bad dreams of late had haunted his rest, vexing his sleep in a web of differing emotions. He did not know why his mind was so restless, only that a heightened sense of things told him some great evil lingered on the horizon. His dreams were consumed by the unwanted promise of death and destruction. As he closed his eyes once again, he saw the silhouette of a figure, its features darkened by the presence of a starless sky. It stood silently, its body wreathed in the blood of Tygrhen's kin. Distant screams broke the silence while an echoing voice sounded in the deep. His eyes shot open again and once more he found himself staring at the ceiling of his hut. His highly tuned hunter's ears picked up the sound of voices. They were speaking softly, so the words were mostly inaudible. He sat up, trying to listen. He moved closer to the entrance of his dwelling and poked a head out, checking that no one else was present to foil his eavesdropping.
The site was still, the only two who were in sight were those who were conversing. Qui'aleen stood by the glowing coal of a dying campfire, another Yautja standing before him. Tygrhen did not recognise the other who was clad in attire of a formal appearance. He wore colourful cloth material under much of his armour which was adorned with intricate carvings, giving a refined appearance. Upon a closer look, he saw the tribal symbol carved into the Yautja's shoulder armour. He was of another clan. 'A passer-by or trader perhaps?' thought Tygrhen.
The words spoken by the two became more distinct as Tygrhen tuned his ears on the conversation. "Tribes are disappearing more frequently now," spoke the unidentified Yautja. "Entire communities are vanishing. Small ships are now being targeted. The Yautja High Council is asking for the presence of all tribal leaders on our capital planet."
"To what end?" asked Qui'aleen. "Have they any idea what we are dealing with?"
The emissary shook his head. "No, not yet. They are asking for the cooperation of all tribes. I know not their plans; I am here only to ask for your presence. You lead one of the larger clans, with seven sister tribes spurring from your clan's roots. In this village alone you've over fifty members."
"When am I expected to arrive?"
"We will send word closer to the date. There is much organising to be done beforehand."
"And if I do not show up?" queried Qui'aleen.
"We will not force you, if that is what you are asking. The threat is very real though and it is for the interest of all Yautja that this summoning is made," the messenger paused for a moment. "And regretfully, I must inform you that the attacks are drawing nearer to this world. If no action is made then you and your people will suffer the same fate as those who have vanished."
Tygrhen sank back into his hut, his heart heavy with the news of an impending attack. Questions flooded his mind. He wanted to rush outside and question the emissary until his curiosity had been sated. Instead he merely lay back down and continued staring at the ceiling of his dwelling. Sleep eventually claimed him into its warm embrace.
The first light of dawn soon broke the darkness of the night. As the sun rose, so too did those within the camp. The camp was soon once again alive with movement.
Tygrhen's sleep was broken by a clan member poking his head into the room and speaking in a loud voice, so as to make sure Tygrhen was awake. "Qui'aleen wishes to see you."
Tygrhen gave a nod before hastily getting ready and moving out into the bustling camp. He weaved in and out of the crowded ground, trying to avoid colliding with anyone. His shoulder connected with that of a clansman who shot Tygrhen a foul look. "Watch yourself, Ooman!" he said gruffly before walking away and speaking softly to himself. "Damned Pyode Amedha."
Tygrhen had learnt to pay no attention to such comments. There were still those who accepted him, but to the greatest degree he would always be the outcast of the society. Many who did accept him did so out of naught but pity.
He found Qui'aleen standing with a small group of unblooded warriors. Kraezak, Vey'lek and Tor'wick were there, as were two other unblooded warriors. Tygrhen rarely had any interaction with the other two, but he knew them as Torl and Ar'bax. Qui'aleen gave him a nod as he stood with the other unblooded ones.
"Good, then you are all here," started Qui'aleen. "You have all grown to be fine warriors, but now the time has come for you to prove your worth as hunters and true clan members. Tomorrow we will travel by ship to your hunting ground. It lies on a planet not far from here. It is there you will face the serpents, and it is there you will die honourably or forever join the ranks of the exalted warriors of our clan. Should you survive and claim victory, honour will be yours. You will be marked with the symbol of our clan – the symbol carried by our forefathers. Now go, prepare what you must, for we leave tomorrow."
The young bloods moved on from the area, an amalgamation of emotions stirring within them. Excitement was foremost felt, with small hints of fear and concern thrown into the mixture. Tygrhen's excitement spurred from the fact that he saw this as his chance to prove himself worthy in the eyes of his clan and his father.
Vey'lek and Tor'wick walked with Tygrhen through the camp. "Can you believe it?" said an excited Vey'lek. "We're finally going to become real warriors!"
"I know," said Tygrhen with a smile. "But it will be unlike anything we've hunted before."
"We'll be fine," said Tor'wick. "You'll see. In a few days time, we'll return to this world as the finest warriors in all the clans."
"Well we will," Vey'lek placed a hand on Tygrhen's shoulder. "But you, I'm not so sure about," he said light-heartedly.
"What's that supposed to mean," queried Tor'wick.
"You've stabbed yourself with your own wrist-blades twice now."
"That was an accident; anyone could have done the same!"
Vey'lek held up two fingers. "Twice," he repeated with a laugh.
Tor'wick paused for a moment, his eyes set on Vey'lek. He could hold a serious face no more, and simply laughed while playfully chasing his brother who fled, giggling as he ran. Tygrhen stood watching the two, laughing as they weaved through clan members, almost knocking into many of them.
Tygrhen spent much of the day's remainder helping with minor chores around the camp. He eventually found himself walking just past the outskirts of the campsite to a secluded area. He stood at the edge of the jungle, the sounds of the site now distant. He had taken with him a simple wooden spear with a metal head. He stood in a battle-ready stance and started to swing the spear around. He spun it in circles, slicing and thrusting it into the air while pretending he was in an actual battle. He used a tree as a target, carving pieces of bark from its great trunk as the spear swung into action. He trained until he heard the faintest crack. He paused in his action and simply stood, his ears searching for any signs of noise. He started to return to a battle-ready stance when he felt a hand cover his mouth and the points of two wrist-blades against his back. He could not move, for if he tried he would be skewered where he stood.
"This is how easily they can kill you," said a familiar voice.
Tygrhen was released from the grip. He quickly turned to see who it was, taking a step back as he did so. He saw the recognizable stocky build and dark orange skin with dark brown mottling. "Kaur'an," he said. "But where did you come from?"
The great hunter took no notice of his words. "The serpents will strike from the darkness. They will try to separate your pack, and they will most likely succeed. They will kill you one by one or capture you to expand their hive. Stab them, and their very blood can claim your life or render your limbs useless. They are like nothing you have seen before. They are like the very shadows themselves. They are like the darkness of night, animated by vile sorcery! This is why you must be vigilant, boy. You must keep your wits about you or have your brains strewn across the floor in front of you. If you keep the pack together and all work as one rather than as many you will return with your life and honour."
"Why are you telling me this? Why not the others?" queried Tygrhen.
"You are all terrible at listening to what you are told, but they are worse."
"Thanks," Tygrhen muttered sarcastically. He was somewhat grateful for the statement though, for he knew that for Kaur'an that was as much praise as would be given.
"Keep them at range, do not let their blood touch you, and always watch your back," Kaur'an gave Tygrhen a nod before walking back to the settlement.
As night began to fall, toasts were made to the unblooded ones who were soon to set off on their journey. The toast was spoken by Qui'aleen himself, speaking of the honour that awaited all the unblooded warriors. He made a prayer for the warriors safe return, and that should any fall, their spirits be accepted into the protection of the gods.
As the night wore on, stories were told and campfires burned with a warm grace. Tygrhen retired to his dwelling earlier than the others, for the many sleepless nights he had experienced had wearied him greatly. He expected another night of broken sleep and dark dreams, but instead was graced with the blessing of a good night's rest. Luck was on his side that night; for he would need all the rest he could muster in what was to come.
Morning came and without delay he packed all that he would need. The weapons the unblooded ones would use were on the ship, as was various parts of their armour. He opened his bag and packed his body mesh – the equipment used to regulate body temperatures and assist in the cloaking field. He picked up his face mask and brushed some flecks of dirt from its surface, his fingers rubbing over the small bumps and grooves in the cold metal. The mask was a poor fit, feeling very uncomfortable on his face and having to be held on with extra reinforcement in the form of a strap wrapping around the back of his head. He knew that being human, it was an honour that he was simply allowed to wear one. His mind still contemplated the thought of making himself a mask of his own for a better fit. He had learnt much about Yautja technology and often surprised many of the great hunters at his tech savvy nature. He would oftentimes sit and help his clansmen in their repairs – that is, the ones who did not hate him. Finishing his packing, he soon walked outside into the settlement to see that clan members had started to gather for the farewell.
Maevrithia saw him emerge from his dwelling and approached him. She ran her hand down the back of his light brown hair in a motherly fashion. She knew naught about human hair, but found it strange how it grew so quickly. She noticed that he seemed to cut it monthly, keeping it at shoulder length. "You have grown strong. I have no doubts that you will return alive and victorious," she had in her hand a pendant of some sort. She wrapped it around Tygrhen's neck. "It will guard you in the days to come."
He looked down at it. It was a chunk of metal which had been carved into the figure of a warrior, the clan's symbol etched into the figure's chest. "Although you were not born by me, you are my son," she said.
"Thank you, mother," he smiled before embracing her in a hug.
They walked together to Qui'aleen. He stood with Kaur'an by his side, the two facing the group of unblooded warriors who had assembled. Tor'wick was the last to arrive. When he reached the group Qui'aleen said some words and those who had gathered cheered for the group. Maevrithia stood between Tygrhen and Kraezak. She pulled them closer to her for a moment. "May you both return safely and with honour. You make me proud. Both of you," she let them go from her grip.
She watched on as the group moved on, following Qui'aleen to the shuttle which lay in a clearing outside the main camp. From there, they would be ferried onto the carrier ship.
As they progressed through the jungle, the sounds of the crowd grew fainter and fainter, until they were no longer audible. Smooth leaves brushed gently against Tygrhen's cheeks and arms as he walked. At last, the company found their way into the clearing, where their transport awaited. There were two other Yautja standing by. Qui'aleen walked up to the first one and they grabbed one another's forearms in greetings before he did the same with the second hunter. He beckoned the unblooded warriors over, and they all entered the transport.
Tygrhen walked in, looking at every detail of it with astonishment. He had never been inside one before. The door had been closed, and thus the air was a little stuffy. The backs of the seats were lined across the small vessels inner flanks.
Tygrhen stood by one of the seats near the front, unsure if he should take a seat or if they were designated. "Take a seat," said Qui'aleen, nodding towards one.
Tygrhen sat down. Qui'aleen saw the eagerness and anxiety in Tygrhen's eyes which darted around the vessel's interior. The elder stood before him, inspecting some buttons overhead. "I didn't know what to expect my first time in a ship either," he said, looking down at Tygrhen. "How are you feeling?"
He looked into the elder's yellow eyes and smiled. "Excited."
Qui'aleen gave a chuckle and patted a hand down on Tygrhen's shoulder before heading into the cockpit with Kaur'an and the two other Yautja. Once everyone had taken their seats and placed their chest harnesses on, the vessel's engines flicked on. Tygrhen rubbed his hand over the animal skin which covered the lightly padded seats. The fur was bristly yet smooth. His eyes widened, as did all the unblooded warriors as the sound grew louder. "I'll tell you what would be funny?" asked Vey'lek rhetorically to his fellow unblooded ones. "If we crashed and all died here right now!"
There was an awkward silence for a moment as everyone looked at Vey'lek whose mandibles were open in a Yautja smile. Tor'wick turned his head to the right, looking at his brother. "How is that funny?"
"Well..." Vey'lek considered for a moment. "I suppose it isn't actually funny at all is it?" he sounded surprised.
The unblooded ones laughed, but Kraezak simply shook his head and looked back out one of the thick glass windows. Tygrhen felt strange as the great lumbering vessel slowly rose from the ground. The foliage and trees shook as the thrusters power kicked in. The ship was airborne, slowly rising and then picking up speed. Tygrhen looked out across the jungle below. It was a blur of brilliant greens, slowly fading away as they entered cloud cover. Nothing but grey and white water vapour greeted their vision until they soon reached a sight which took their breath away. Space. Dark with the stars against it, the green and blue planet swirling beneath them. It was like a dark carpet with the finest gems tossed across it. It was as a majestic hunter donned in magnificent armour – cold and dangerous, yet in its own right it was beautiful.
It wasn't long before they boarded the larger ship in orbit. As they stepped out into the cargo hold, Tygrhen could not help but smile at the sight. To most, there was naught before the group than crates, supplies and the metal interior of the ship. To Tygrhen, however, this was the vessel that would take him to glory and acceptance. In his heart it was all he truly wanted. To be accepted. Even Qui'aleen had never called him 'son'. He believed that Qui'aleen kept him alive not for love but only for his own honour's sake. Grateful as he was for this, he needed a father. He was determined that he would win his father's love, and that of the clan.
His steps made light tapping sounds against the metal as he walked through the halls. He was shown to his room which consisted of a mat upon the floor with a head rest and blanket, a table, and a chest. It was not much, but to him, it was home for now. His mind was restless with anticipation. He wanted the test to begin. He knew it would come soon enough though, and with it a red dawn. A dawn filled with the blood of his enemies and the love of his people. He smiled to himself, knowing that soon it would be so.