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The delicate rays of sunshine were beginning to wane as the day drew to its end. Tsawke turned the sky to flame, casting its red shadows upon the surface of the cool, rippling water.
The high winds whipped and tore at the sheer cliffs, stealing the leaves off the heads of the trees. Peace resonated within the settlement of the Tayrangi clan. Everyone was about their usual, day-to-day errands- gatherers bundled heaps of rich fruits into baskets; children dotted the camp in flocks, squawking gleefully as they indulged childhood games; returning hunters labored, dragging the carcasses of the day's fruition to be hacked into smaller pieces for the evening meal.
Along the hem of the great, towering cliffs, a burble of laughter disrupted the lowing call of the wind.
Two Na'vi youngsters, cackling like anything, gallivanted up the grass-carpeted incline. They were brothers. They tussled and shoved at each other in friendly fire, each trying to beat the other in a race turned physical play-squabble to crest the cliffs.
First brother's feet touched first. He let out a whoop and jabbed his fist triumphantly into the air, a cheeked grin splitting his cheeks.
"Victory is mine!", pointing a blue finger at his brother, he preened, "You are now the rotten yovo fruit!"
Second brother, despite his bitter qualms with losing, delivered a heart shove to his brother's shoulder, laughing. Neither had the heart to soil their fun with sour moods- not when it was such a joyous day.
"Be careful, or your head will be too big for the visor" he humorously warned, poking the older boy in the space between his eyes. He swatted the hand away.
"You are just sorry I am faster" and with that, he was off again. Like a flash of blue lightning, pounding up towards the cliff's lip. He turned back to face his brother, gesturing for him to hurry on up, "come on, the ikran will turn to stone by the time you'll have reached, hurry up!"
As if suddenly remembering the reason for this little jaunt in the first place, second brother's eyes widened for a moment before he sped up the cliff.
Just the day before, the brothers had completed their iknimaya, rendering them now official members of the Tayrangi clan, warriors at the premier of their trade. This task was no easy feat, many of the other participants had sustained injuries in the act of taming their banshee mounts- none were fatal, but all were still painful and inconveniencing, nonetheless. The remaining hours of the previous day had been taken, as Tayrangi tradition, for the newly made clan members to rest and patch up.
The celebrations and festivities – quite an excitable part of iknimaya's completion – would be held tonight, when the sun brushed the waters spine.
Having rested and tended to their (quite minor) injuries, the brothers had a good few hours of free time to themselves.
And they knew exactly how to spend them.
Gradually, the grass and foliage thinned and sparsed the closer they got to the edge, mowed down to a tiny bristle tickling the soles of their feet. Wind tousled their braids and flung the scent of the sea into their nostrils- first brother inhaled deep.
Txampayri.
The ocean was a crucial part in the lifestyle and ways of the Tayrangi peoples. It was a bountiful source of nourishment, a dutiful line of defense, an interactive and stimulating playground. Most of all, to the ikran people of the Eastern sea, the ocean was a friend. 'Eylan txampayti. They respected its prowess and it protected them.
First brother loves the sea. The way it waved and rippled, undulating in an endless, cycling dance. It held life beyond his imagination- the few times he had dived over an extended period; creatures his imagination could not have ever concocted showed themselves to him. Large fish-like beasts, animals with spear-shaped heads, armed with teeth surpassing a blade in sharpness, bearing eyes larger than his own head!
Some of his peers, in their jokes and jests, called him a Metkayina. For he was so 'fish-mad' he would fit right in as a member of the sea clans.
As his gaze swept over the landscape, the great, mystical blue, something interrupted.
It was so far away and so small he thought, at first, that a follicle of his own hair had drifted down into his eyes. He rubbed a bunched fist across his eyes, then took a second glimpse, squinted. It was definitely not a hair, and his vision was as clear as day- maybe it was in his imagination?
Then, suddenly, violently, it thickened, spewing into the air rapidly, sordidly. His eyes widened in alarm.
He startled when he felt a sudden smack to his shoulder. Second brother stared at him, the hairless ridge of his brow raised quizzically on one end.
"I have been calling you for the past minute, did the wind steal your brain as well as your tent?"
First brother did not laugh at his jest (though the memory of the tent careening away in the wind was quite comedic), instead of one of his bright, humorous smiles, he frowned deeply. Concern wiped out any room for joy and replaced it with a terrible sinking feeling- so deep it rivaled the Laksnrr ravine. He turned his focus back to the dark smudge as it continued to poison the skyline.
He pointed at it. "Look"
Second brother took a glance, but his gaze came up empty. He turned back to first brother, puzzlement littered all over his face.
"Look at what, the sky?"
The former gave a huff of annoyance – this, least of all, was the worst time for jokes - before turning his brother's face back toward the horizon. "No, it is up against the sky. You see it? Right there to the left"
It took a few seconds, but with his brother's careful guidance, Second brother spotted it as well. He too felt the dismay.
A single tendril of smoke, stark and black against the pale sky. It rose up in a great cloud, rolling and roiling with toxic ash. Its presence blighted the sky, driving away the flying wildlife with its stinking, hot breath.
The smoke itself was not particularly concerning- all clans employed the usefulness of fire, and where there was smoke there was most certainly a fire. Nothing worth vexing himself over. It was the origins of the climbing dark spire that sparked alarm within the hearts of many. It was to the west, a good day's journey from the shoreline of the Tayrangi land- assuming the weather conditions were in favor.
If it were further away or in a different direction the brothers would not have even batted an eye.
Northeast of the scrubland, facing the tsawltskxe. The Tayrangi kept that burned into their memory. The embers were now reawakening, after a long hiatus of dormancy. This was bad.
The two brothers shared a look before taking off at breakneck speeds down the hill, towards the camp. They burst into the main clearing, panting and gasping, ears flat and tails quavering. Their sudden arrival garnered the attention of the villagers, who, daily chores forgotten, turned to ogle the curious sight before them.
Immediately, they requested the whereabouts of the olo'eykte and tsahìk.
Upon them summon, the boys led them along the cliffs, hurriedly beckoning them with quick gestures, panic pulsing in their eyes.
Finally, they arrived at the clifftop. First brother fervently pointed to the smoke, jabbing his finger in its direction. It had grown in size, no longer hard to spot against the sky.
Olo'eykte Ikeyni went rigid when she saw it; her eyes widened and her ear fell back. The usual determined hardness in her gaze fell away, momentarily, in revelation of something akin to fear. In the years he had been alive, the brothers had never observed the presence of fear in their leader. Only they could bring on such a reaction.
The tsahìk gave a great cry of anguish, wringing her wrinkled hands.
"Oh great mother, help us!" she wailed, "Why must the demons rekindle their anger? What have we done to evoke their wrath?"
Ikeyni's troubled voice cut through the sounds her mother's despair. "Go and settle your families," she turned back on them, her features set in a grim stiffness, pessimism dulling her gaze.
"we must evacuate"
Somehow, the message got to camp on faster legs than the brothers.
When they entered their camp, the people had already begun to move. Villagers carried their belongings in hordes, bearing the weight in order to lessen the times they returned for more; mother's swaddled crying babies, herding their older children in the direction of the flow; ikran and pa'li were employed in carrying the brunt of the supplies.
Before long, the Tayrangi camp would be empty, deserted.
As the last few stragglers cleared out of the settlement, first brother cast one last look at the desecrated shamble that was his home. Strewn about the grassed floor were the trampled and discarded remnants of his clanmates' belongings, once precious, now abandoned in the haste of fear- fear of fire.
Second brother's fists clenched at his sides, he ground his teeth as he glared at the sky-high plume of smoke, now steadily spouting its poison into the clouds- a silent but crystal clear war cry.
Why now? What was the cause of this? No sane man would provoke the wrath of the fire demons. What did they do wrong?
As his eyes filled with tears, he turned his back to the site, unable to bear the despair it brought for another second. His trudging footsteps followed after those of his clanmates, down the incline of the hill and further into the wooded forest. As he journeyed further and further from the now empty Tayrangi settlement, he couldn't help but wonder.
Would they ever return to that place? Or would they be consumed into the smoky abyss, forever doomed to be ash trampled underfoot.
Na'vi Dictionary
Tsawke – sun / Txampay(-ri) – ocean / 'Eylan – friend / Tsawltskxe – tall rock (tsawl – tall, tskxe – rock) / Olo'eykte – female clan leader / Tsahìk – matriarch, healer /