Chapter 3

Neytiri strode into the courtyard, making her way through the tightly-packed crowd pressed almost shoulder-to-shoulder. Her tail flicked with impatience as the throng proved difficult to navigate, and without a second throught she nimbly scaled a nearby column. Seating herself on her lofty perch, she looked on, heart racing, as the Council arrived.

The multitude of Na'vi, which had proven so impassable for Neytiri, instantly parted for the elders who now made for the cleared space prepared for their meeting. They were old, venerable beings, their bodies tired and weak, some supported by staves, but their minds were sharp, and their eyes shone with a vitality and a passion that belied their esteemed age. Their skin, once deep blue, had since faded to a paler shade, and their frail bodies were draped with many shawls against the chill, although it was high noon. Personally, Neytiri thought it rather warm, but despite the balmy atmoshpere, there was indeed a chill in the air. But it was of fear. Neytiri's ears pressed flat against her head expressively, unconsciously symbolizing her uncertainty and axiety.

There was general murmuring all around, as the Omaticaya present at the meeting whispered in hushed undertones to their fellows, but at a single gesture from Esa'Kal, all fell silent.

The Council took their seats in a semicircle about the firepit, now extinguished. There was silence for a time, save for the subdued conversation between the elders themselves, no doubt preparing what to say.

Neytiri noticed her mother and Jake materialize from the crowd. As Tsahik, Mo'at had a responsibility to attend the Council, as did Esa'Kal, but Neytiri had eyes only for Jake. For a moment, she forgot the terrible rumors she'd heard, whispers among the crowd.

Whispers about the Unseen.

But that didn't matter now. Jake was here. A smile broke across her blue face.

A ringing sound echoed among the rafters of the Hometree, as one of the Council rang the ceremonial bell once, twice, three times. Council had begun.

All onlookers leaned in slightly, and from her vantage point, it seemed to Neytiri that they bent like stalks of grass in the wind. Others followed her example, and soon the overarching wooden ribwork of the tree was filled with seated Na'vi. All eyes were focused intently on the elderly Council members, as one slowly rose from his seated position.

"The Council of the Omaticaya," he intoned in a deep, hoarse voice, "Has been called to speak of the great danger that has made itself known to us. Only by the grace of Eywa can we hope to see the truth in this matter, and to act upon it. May Eywa see and protect us."

He nodded to himself, satisfied with his words, and continued. "At sunrise, a hunting party of our horsemen returned to us, bringing tidings of evil news." There was silence all around. He cleared his throat once, then went on.

"Of the nine riders, only three have returned to us. The families of Da'vik, Eck'ell, Tsu'Rok, Mabea, Cae'te, and Va'Mea—" There was whispering on all sides, as all who knew those names well began to sense the impossible truth.

The elder pressed on, without pause, clearly as pained by the tragic news as the listeners. "Will be grieved to know that their beloved mates, children, mothers, fathers, and siblings have passed on to Eywa."

A single cry of despair pierced the air, echoed by another, and another, as the families of the fallen cried out in anguish. Neytiri's eyes watered, having known the pain all too well. The elder seemed to wither before her eyes, and with a heavy heart, he finished the blessing. "May the All Mother see them."

But these words were no comfort, did not ease the pain in the hearts of the families, and all the Omaticaya. Their sobs did not recede as the elder sat, to be succeeded by another.

The Councilman spoke with a clear, booming voice. "The survivors, all of whom are expected to live, have given us a warning." This elder was not so visibly affected by the sorrow that rang throughout the tree, clearer and more lasting than the ring of the ceremonial bell. His face was drawn tight, mouth a grim slash of determination as he said, "The deaths of our brothers, our sisters, were not in vain. Their heroism has brought us a sign from Eywa!"

He gestured around himself, at his clan, his people. "The Unseen has returned, from the years past, to seek the destruction of The People!" He snarled in anger, baring his teeth as if this dark foe stood before him then and there. "He hides now, to the east, and he draws upon his strength, preparing to attack our home, no doubt! But we will not allow it! He will kill no more of our family, and he will no longer disgrace Eywa with his existence! His stain upon our world will be cleansed, with the blessing of Eywa on our side!" There was much agreement to this statement, as the assembled shouted cries for blood, while the heartbroken merely nodded determinedly. Neytiri could feel the electricity in the air, the excitement, the fear.

The elder raised his hands to the sky. "He will be hunted and slaughtered, and his corpse will be burned, so that it will never again rise to threaten us! We will find him, hunt him like the beast that he is, and he will find no refuge." There were more shouts of consent, and the elder nodded appreciatively.

"But we cannot take this foe lightly. His power is great, and it will take many to best him. We all know the stories, the dangers. He is said to be immortal, timeless, though by our spears and by our arrows, we will cast aside these rumors! The Council has met, and we are unanimous. A war party must be gathered, and a leader must be chosen."

He cast his eyes about the crowd, and added with great strength in his convictions. "A leader has been chosen. The Council calls upon Toruk Makto, to lead the greatest of our warriors, and give chase to this enemy."

There was no question about it. The answer was unanimous. It started before the elder had even finished uttering Toruk Makto, a cheer that rose among the crowd, as many drew their weapons and raised them in support, brandishing them high over their heads.

Jake approached the elders (At least, that was how it seemed. Neytiri knew her Jake. He hated being the focus of attention, and true enough, he stumbled slightly at being nudged abruptly out of the throng. Neytiri spared her mother a scathing glance, then returned her attention to the Council). He obviously hadn't expected such a duty, but a duty it was, and he would perform it. Kneeling in respect for his elders, he spoke in his funny way that so endeared him to Neytiri.

"Well, I guess…" He caught himself after a dangerous look from Mo'at. "It would be my honor, elders, to command this… er… war party." He managed a thin smile and a nod, earning him a confused glance from the elders, who were still not used to his human affectations.

"Very well!" cried the senior elder, speaking once again. His beaded hairs rattled as he shook his head vigorously, proclaiming, "And we will have blood tonight! Who so pledges their bow to Toruk Makto?"

The response was instantaneous. As one, every warrior assembeled there stepped forth, holding themselves high, a weapon in hand and a fire in their eyes. But they made not a sound, for this was indeed a somber occasion. They were so quiet, so professional, that at first Jake thought no one moved, but upon glancing over his shoulder, he was startled to see a small army at his side. Although there was no visible discoloration to his cheeks, Jake's face felt very hot all of a sudden, and he smiled sheepishly, a look that was somewhat detracted from by his razor-sharp incisors.

"Okay then," he called out, his spirits rising, "Who's with me?"

A cry rose from his warriors, and Jake drew his arms across his chest, impressed. The Council nodded approvingly, and one among their number spoke out. "The party will gather at the southern fields. Make ready for war, children of Eywa. For our home, for the Omaticaya!"

Now all rose to cheer, and Jake suddenly found himself being led back into the crowd, deftly snatched by Mo'at's nimble hand. Neytiri saw Jake accompany her mother back along the walkways, toward the huts at the far end. Without a second thought, she clambered down from her seat and made to follow. She alighted quickly on the wooden floor, and worked her way through the crowd. Whatever her mother had to say to Jake, she would hear it too.

*****

Mo'at pushed through her tent-flap without pause, Jake ducking in after her. She threw a fistful of wooden chips on the still-smoldering fire, rekindling its low flame. In the uncertain light it cast, Jake found his seat, his mind reeling. "Tsahik, what has happened?" She paid him no heed, only paced madly, harrowed and on edge.

Jake tracked her motion out of the corner of his eye, his brow furrowed in thought. Finally, Mo'at drew to a stop, and planted herself across the fire from Jake. A silence descended, but it was only temporary. The roar of the crowd approached, as Na'vi returned to their work and to their huts. Jake and Mo'at sat in silence, both pondering by the fireside. Jake, eventually, musterered the will to speak. "Tsahik? What is the Unseen?"

Mo'at made no answer, only fiddled absently with her beaded braids and her Tsahik's jewelry. Finally, she seemed to draw breath to answer, only to have the tent-flap open to admit another into their company. Jake didn't even have time to register who it was before Neytiri was beside him, sitting a little too closely for his comfort while in Mo'at's presence. Neytiri spared him a lingering glance and a radiant smile, but they both had much more on their minds at the moment. With a glance to her mother, Neytiri spoke out. "Tsahik, Jake is to be the war party leader?"

Mo'at remained rather distant, but answered, "That is the will of the Council. He is Toruk Makto. It is his duty to fight this foe."

"But what exactly am I up against? What is the Unseen?" Jake's head was beginning to spin. So much had happened since that morning, so much had been decided, and yet still so much remained to be seen, that he felt completely out of control. "I need to know what I'm up against."

Neytiri's brow furrowed. "Of course you would not know." Anxiety crept into her voice, fear for her mate. "It is an old legend, sung to the children of our People. You would not have learned it from me, I never thought it important." Turning to face her mother, she warned, "He is not ready to face this enemy! He knows not what it is!" Her bright eyes were alight with emotion, and Jake was reminded of when he'd first met Neytiri. When she had told him he knew nothing. She'd had that same look in her eyes. That was what had first interested him in her. But she was a little too defensive. He could stand on his own.

"All I must know," he quickly stated, before Mo'at could retort, "Is this story, right? Then tell it to me, please, Tsahik. I am ready to listen."

Mo'at's demeanor, which had been verging on angry at the insolence of her daughter, seemed to soften, and she nodded understandingly. "It makes no sense to fight an enemy you do not yet understand. Our People learned that when those from the sky descended." She brought her gaze to rest upon Jake, her crafty eyes seeming to stare straight into his soul. Jake held still under the scrutiny. After a moment, Mo'at spoke again. "Very well. I will teach him. As I have taught all Na'vi. But our time is short. To sing you the tale would take too long. I shall speak it to you."