Dreamwalker

Chapter Four

Rol'ei insisted he leave his backpack and t-shirt on the ground outside the central area of the Utral Aymokriya. Ted felt the stares of all the Na'vi around them; he felt oddly like he was walking into that nightmare, the one where you show up for your first day of fourth grade without your clothes on.

The slight breeze tickled the wet paint that Rol'ei had drawn on his face and chest. At least, it hoped it was paint. Something about the vibrant hue brought thoughts of fresh blood to mind.

The sight of the the Utral Aymokriya, the Tree of Voices, swept away all of that embarrassment, at least for a moment. A gentle breeze ruffled the glowing strands of the great tree. Other than Grace, Jake, and Norm, he couldn't think of any other humans who had seen this in person. The photographs from aerial surveys couldn't compare.

Na'vi surrounded him, a clear path urging them forward towards the spirit tree in the distance.

“Why do I get the feeling they know we're coming?”

Rol'ei smiled. “Of course they do. If I didn't send word ahead, do you think Mo'at would be ready to receive you?”

“No, she'd be doing more important things, like continuing to search for more wounded?”

Rolei made his rude noise again. Ted had a feeling that was his favorite syllable.

They made their way to center of the clearing. He couldn't help but stare in amazement at the great tree ahead of him. Even in the sunlight, the bioluminescences from the branches glowed. His fingertips practically itched to touch, examine, take samples.

“Don't drool too much,” Rol'ei whispered. “You'll loose your grip on that precious flute.”

“What do you bring me, Singer of the Ikran Clan?”

“I bring you nothing. It is a member of the Dreamwalkers clan that brings you a gift, this day, Mo'at.”

The Tsahik looked regal in her red beaded... chest covering. The name for it wouldn't come to mind. Neytiri and Jake stood behind her. The young woman wore a armored chest plate now, along with carrying the huge ceremonial bow. According to Jake, her father had given her leadership just before the battle. A strange turn of fate.

“Rol'ei, maybe you should....” He felt a firm hand on his shoulder, urging him forward.

“I am at your side,” he whispered. “But this is for you.”

Ted grit his teeth and stepped up the few rocky steps to stand before the leaders of the Omatecaya clan. He swallowed and bowed deeply.

“It... it is an honor to stand before you-”

“The Singer speaks for you, Dreamwalker. Why are you here?”

“I found something in the remains of Hometree,” Ted said without preamble. He wished he had the gift of words like Rol'ei did. He had a feeling that if the Singer was up here making this great declaration, he'd spin a tale so wonderful it'd be spoken about for ages to come.

“Well? Show us.”

He juggled the covered packages a moment until finally the shaman plucked the larger from his arms.

“What have you... oh my. Singer! You have brought the voice of the people back to us!”

“As I have said, Mo'at, this is a gift from the Dreamwalkers. If I had been searching myself, I would have seen only a speck of blue among all the green. Truly, I do not know the worth of this instrument.”

Mo'at laughed at him, pulled the last of the bundled leaf mater from the great flute.

Whether or not Rol'ei knew the significance of the Omati s'ampta, Ted did. That flute, almost more like a trumpet, or a digerydoo, had only one note hole at the top, and it truly didn't change the notes all that much according to the texts. He had not heard it himself. Playing the instrument was said to bring the voice of Eywa herself to the people. It'd been made from the wood of Hometree ages ago, the oils of a thousand hands brought a polish to its patina'd surface. Omaticaya, the People of the Blue Flute.

“The voice of Eywa has returned to us!” Her triumphant shout was met with the joyful ululations of the clan.

“Thank you, Dreamwalker.”

“Ted.”

She smiled warmly. “Ted. What other gift do you bring?”

“Along the voice of the past,” Rol'ei said, stepping up to his side. “He has also brings fresh hope for the future.”

Ted nodded gratefully, embarrassed by the blush he felt creeping up again. Guess it was painfully obvious that he seriously had no idea what to say to the equivalent of local royalty.

He lifted up the sack with the Kelutrel tree seed pods.

If the sight of the recovered flute brought jubilation, Ted could not quite decipher the myriad of emotions that flickered over Mo'at's sun-lined face.

“They are the seeds of Kelutrel,” he said lamely. “I know we can not bring Hometree back now, or ever, but here are the last children of the great tree.”

She wiped at her eyes; he hadn't noticed the tears until then.

“Yes, I know the children of Hometree well. You offer us a great gift, Ted. We are in your debt.”

“No, I-” Rol'ei stopped him with a touch to his shoulder. Ted looked over. He had a gentle smile on his face.

“Hear me, my people!” Mo'at again raised her voice to the skies. “Work hard today, for tonight we celebrate these gifts brought to us. You," she poked Ted in the chest. "Will remain here and begin the preparations. Singer, will you aid me, so I may continue my work?”

Rol'ei nodded. “I would be honored.”

She took one last fond look at the seeds in her arm, before wrapping them securely again. “Take care of these, daughter. It is our leader's job to harden the seeds so they may be ready to grow.” She stepped down to Ted's level, peering into his face for a long moment. He felt like one of his specimens under a microscope. “You have chosen well, Singer.”

“Eywa seems to have chosen all of the Dreamwalkers, for different tasks, just like she chooses us. It is simply up to us to help mold them, help them discover their place.”

She made a noncommittal noise and brushed past him.

The majority of the people filed away, leaving the younger, the older, and the injured at their temporary camps.

“Do you need anything for your preparations, Singer....”

“Rol'ei. A pleasure to meet you, Olo'eyktan Neytiri. Have you a singer in your clan that I could prevail upon? I'm sure you have enough to worry about.”

“No, we have yet to find the body...”

Rol'ei waved a hand.

“Take care of your duties then. We will find all we need.”

She nodded, took Jake by the hand, and disappeared into the glowing foliage of the Tree of Voices.

Ted let out the breath he'd been holding.

“That wasn't so bad.”

Rol'ei snorted. “Yes, well, we have a ceremony to get you ready for. But... maybe you need to be told another story first.”

“The story of what we're going to be doing in this ceremony?”

Rol'ei smiled. “Not quite. Come. First you will hear Eywa.”

The Na'vi lead the way, stepping up to a tightly clustered bit of branches. He motioned for Ted to follow.

“This is your first time seeing one of the spirit trees?”

“In person, yes. I've seen pictures before. It's so beautiful in person.”

“Would you like to touch?”

Rol'ei gently gathered a little bundle of the branches, letting them slide through his grip, not gripping them at all. Where ever he touched, the glow increased, causing a slight halo against his blue skin.

Ted stepped up, stroked the offered bundles with the back of his knuckles. The glow flared with the touch.

“The Omaticaya clan is fortunate. This tree is the oldest that any of the clans know of.”

“Jake said that this was the way that the Na'vi could connect with Eywa.”

“Jake is... the rider of toruk?”

“Yes.”

Rol'ei's eyelids dropped. He pulled his queue over his shoulder, revealing the neural connection strands hidden within the end.

“It is more than a simple connection to Eywa, it is a way to listen to the voices of the past, to all those who came before us.”

Rol'ei's eyes fluttered shut as he made the connection to the Tree of Voices.

“Come, join me.”

“I'm not sure I should....”

He smiled. “Do you need my help?”

“No, I just... oh hell.” Ted pulled his queue around. He'd seen others use their neural tendrils before, had played with them like all the others when they'd first began driving their avatars, but he'd never connected with anything. He brought his queue to the trees branches; the tendrils wrapped around them of their own accord.

Suddenly, a thousand voices whispered like a tide in his mind. Not just voices of people, speaking in the language of the na'vi, but the sounds of the forest, of the oceans.

“The ceremony Mo'at has in mind for tonight can only be preformed for warriors who have been accepted into the clan.” Rol'ei lyrical voice swam above the others.

“Jake is the only one who has been accepted into the Omaticaya clan.”

His deep throated chuckle wrapped around Ted like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. “I'm not a member of the Omaticaya either, my friend. I have marked you as a Singer in training in my own clan. There is a tradition, an old one...”

Images bubbled to the surface, voices singing in an older dialect, one Ted could barely identify.

“Can you see what we're going to do?”

“No, not really.”

A warm palm on his arm. Ted pulled away, reluctantly, out of the wealth of information that he had no idea how to decipher.

He blinked up wearily at Rol'ei. He hadn't noticed he'd sunk down onto the ground. The na'vi's smile held warm amusement.

“What did you think?”

“So much information. So many voices. Too many. I couldn't make out anything.”

“Given time, and practice, you will learn how to listen to one voice at a time. Come, we need to go fishing.”

* * *

For once the setting of the sun, the beginning of the evening, actually coincided with darkness; usually the light reflected from the planet Polyphemus kept even night fairly well lit.

Ted sampled from each of the platters before him, not quite sure what anything was. For the most part, while in his avatar, he ate fruits and grains; he was, after all, the nutrition specialist. He had to figure out what was toxic, what had the proper macro and micro nutrients to make the avatar bodies work right (which weren't necessarily exactly the same as the Na'vi's requirements, frustratingly). That, and figuring out how to plant a damn garden that could reliably grow everything that they needed to survive left him little time to work out that other side of eating; making delicious food.

The dishes produced by the Omaticaya were rich, flavorful. Some thing savory, some almost... musky.

“Here, try this.”

Rol'ei offered him a fluid filled bladder.

“What's this?”

He merely smiled and sloshed it into his arms. “Drink.”

Ted flicked out the stopper, took a gulp, and coughed it up. The Na'vi around him laughed.

“Drink it slower. It's potent.”

“Yeah,” Ted wheezed. “I guessed.” He took a long, slow sip. As a human, sure, he'd had alcohol before, but this body had never taken in anything fermented. He held the cool liquid over his tongue for a moment, savoring how the cold temperature juxtaposed to the tingle and the heat as it soaked into his bloodstream. He wondered how many people could savor the first taste of something as simple as alcohol for the first time all over again.

Another swig and he concentrated on the flavor. He'd never been exactly a oenophile, but maybe with a bit of work, and asking a lot of questions from the maker, he could whip up a batch of this for the avatars from the camp's stocks. ...maybe even see how toxic it would be for the humans. He grinned.

“What's in this?”

“It's special. Here,” Rol'ei took the bladder back, tripped his head back and drank deeply to the amusement of those around him.

“Our Singer drinks like an old warrior,” a young girl said, her arms snaking nimbly around Rol'ei's shoulders. Ted felt his cheeks flush. He took the bladder back and gulped down more.

He didn't notice Rol'ei deftly untangling himself.

The meal continued, platters and bladders passed around. The sky darkened, the world illuminated solely from the glow of the pit fires and plant life.

“Here, finish this off.” Rol'ei handed him a mostly empty bladder. Ted sloshed it back. The last of the dregs had a thick grainy texture. He smacked his lips a couple times.

The Singer took Ted by the hand, lifted him up. He wobbled a moment before Rol'ei caught him by the forearm.

“Where're we goin'?” He felt his eyes cross a moment with the movement. Had his voice slurred?

“The young ones are being put to bed, and you need to be readied. Come.”

Rol'ei led him off to a dark area, separated off by a couple stretched hides; it felt very private, quiet after the constant buzz of the drunk na'vi. Ted smiled.

“This is nice.”

The Singer only smiled. His long fingers traced down the dried lines over Ted's chest. Ted gulped. He felt the blood rise to more than just his skin. Maybe he shouldn't have taken the last of the drink.

Rol'ei's fingers tugged at Ted's pants. Something about the frustrated motions woke him up a little.

“What are you trying to do?”

“Need this off. You need to be dressed properly.”

Ted grunted and automatically undid the button fly of his cargo pants; his boots he'd kicked off ages ago. He felt like he might burst into flames at the sight of his half-stiff dick, but an inquiring look up at Rol'ei gave him little more than his usual light-lipped smile. He looked down again at his bare toes in the dirt.

“Would you do mine too?”

Ted swallowed, his hands flexing at his sides.

“Are you sure?”

Rol'ei made his rude noise, causing Ted to smile. “If I can't do yours, do you think I could do mine?”

He stumbled in an attempt to lean over, falling to one knee.

“Are you well?”

“Mmm,” Ted mumbled, working at Rol'ei's buttons. “Been too long since I've taken someone else's pants off.”

Ted sighed and rested his forehead on Rol'ei's slim stomach as the last button finally gave up the ghost. He gave a little thought of thanks that the Singer'd refused underwear before.

“Boots?”

Did he hear the same breathless quality he himself felt? Naw, couldn't be. Ted breathed in the scent of Rol'ei's skin. Nothing smelled so good. So warm, sweet. Not like a flower or anything romantic like that, just... edible.

Boots.

He slid down a little more so he could reach his boot laces. Rol'ei lifted one foot, then another, so Ted could fumble with the laces and release his feet.

“Here, 'emme see.” Yeah, definitely slurring.

Rol'ei put a hand on Ted's shoulder, steadying himself so Ted could lift each foot and check the bandaging. The clear plastic false skin looked like it'd held up fairly well during the day, only a couple little pockets of pooled blood inside. Boots did a good job of protecting the patch job.

“Ted?”

“Mmm?”

Rol'ei's hands clasped his shoulders, bringing him upright. Ted grinned as both men swayed a little with the motion.

“Stay here.”

“Mmhmm.”

Rol'ei disappeared for a moment, returning with a couple thin strips of fabric. Ted giggled.

“I'm wearing that?”

“We are wear these. Here, hold still.”

Ted couldn't help but wiggle as Rol'ei's hands passed between his legs; even his tail trashed as he finished off the tie.

“Want me to do you?”

Rol'ei stared at him a moment; had he used the wrong "do"? Damn, translating drunk hurt his brain.

The Singer shook his head. “No, I can put my thong on myself.”

Ted slid back into a squat on the ground, his fingers pulling at his queue.

A leaf appeared in his field of vision, too close to actually focus on. Ted leaned back until he fell back on his ass.

“What is that?”

Rol'ei grinned. “You're next experience.”

It sat plopped on a miniature leaf platter, much like the red paint that still crusted his body had. “More paint?”

Rol'ei laughed. “No. Do you wish to know what it is?”

Ted sniffed the offered paste. “Maybe?”

“It's two things, actually.” Rol'ei swung around to sit down next to him, their sides touching. Warmth. Ted leaned into that lovely warmth. “...both things are toxic.”

“Toxic?” At the moment, Rol'ei could read the ingredients on the prepackaged slop the RDA passed off as food and Ted'd be perfectly happy to stay right there.

“Very toxic. I mixed the venom sacks from the Kali'weya,” Arachnoid, Ted's mind translated sluggishly. Like a really bad scorpion. Eighteen centimeters of fatal to humans. “and the Eltungawng.” Glow worm; psychoactive alkaloid. 'Shrooms. In worm form. Glowy glowy worm form.

“That sounds, like a bad idea. Really bad idea.” Ted squinted at his companion. He couldn't seriously be mashing those two seriously dangerous animals together.

“It will hurt, at first. I will be here.”

“Hurt?”

Rol'ei nodded. He scooped a small measure, placed it on his own tongue. Rol'ei seemed to swallow forever. He scooped up more of the funky mass, with two fingers this time.

“Open wide, swallow slowly. Scream if you have to.”

“Scream-” Rol'ei tucked his fingers into Ted's open mouth before he could argue farther. The pleasant sensation of his fingers in Ted's mouth was quickly replaced with painful burning.

“Swallow. Take it all or I'll have to force more in your mouth. Quickly, while you still have control.”

He licked off every milligram of the concoction. It took every fiber of his being to obey the Singer's command.

“Good, that's it. Here, drink.”

Ted fought the drink, expecting more of the toxic paste. The cold alcohol that finally made it past his lips soothed his tongue, but quickly centralized the burning; not on his tongue, but into his brain.

“Take more. It will help.”

He guzzled down as much of the fermented juice as he could, but it did nothing to quench the fire raging within his body.

The last sensation he felt, before falling into that all encompassing inferno, was Rol'ei pulling him in tight against his chest, sticky fingers twining tight into his, holding him tight, grounding him when he would be lost to the firestorm.

* * *

Deep drum beats. Calling him back.

Soft piping. Violins. Some beautiful, classical piece he's never learned, would never learn, back home. So beautiful.

He didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to see the instruments being played. The magic of the notes, interweaving, holding him and bringing him up, shouldn't be broken so crudely.

He sighed into it, relaxing. A soothing balm, he realized. Healing... some wound. He felt his brow furrow painfully. Healing him from what? He couldn't remember. He strained against the soothing, dulcet tones.

A tight grip to his hand, firm and painful, brought him slamming down into his own body.

His chest hurt for a moment, like someone had stabbed him right in the sternum, but cool fingers traced the hurt, easing it. The music swelled up again.

Ted risked opening his eyes. Darkness swirled around him. He closed them tightly. Oh man. He hadn't been this drunk since college. Maybe never. He groaned.

The song softened. Song? Yes, that was it, a multitude of voices, not instruments, flowing in and out.

He opened his eyes again, realizing finally he lay curled up in the Singer's lap.

The na'vi looked down at him, his large eyes luminous, welcoming him into their golden depths. Flickering lights dappling his velvet dark skin flared, melting into the stars of the sky and back into his flesh.

He reached towards those flickering stars, hot breath caressing his fingertips. Lilting tones lifted up and down. He felt like he should be able to understand, but he couldn't. He pushed against those stars, trying to free himself from the confusion.

Soothing cool enveloped his cheek, stilled his mind, bringing it down until only the luminous eyes above him existed.

“Beautiful.”

“Bee... ooo tea sul?”

“Mmm.”

Bubbling laughter, bringing him up.. He swayed. No, arms holding him upright. His toes deep in the moist soil below, every flex sending out radiant ripples of glowing green. His palms pressing into warm flesh. Different glow from the ground. Little dappling lines, luring him up to luscious blue lips. They tasted so good. Sweetest nectar, most painful burn.

Ted pulled back from that deep well to look around, falling back against the stable warmth of the Singer's chest. Star people all around him, swaying in time with the song.

A deep yip reverberated through his chest. For a long, desperate, agonizing moment there was silence. Throbbing from under foot pulsed through his legs, increasing the tension. His heart raced, higher and higher.

Some unseen signal sent the star clusters up, jumping, whooping, the quiet throb of drums suddenly a steady, open beat.

“Beeooteasul.”

Ted turned back, grinned at the lovely smile that greeted him. Strong hands took his, spun him about and into the crowd. Laughing, jostling, dancing.

The movement cleared Ted's mind some. He could recognize Rol'ei in the groups, tried to stay close whenever the press of bodies separated them. Sinuous, mostly naked bodies, slick with sweat surrounded him. A flash of a memory, the girl from before wrapping herself around the Singer. Ted groaned.

He worked his way back to Rol'ei's side. The Singer caught his hand, peered closely into his eyes, said something. Ted tried to focus but the words weren't there.

“I need to go back.”

Rol'ei looked just as confused. Ted shook his head, instantly regretted it. He tugged on Rol'ei's arm. The Na'vi followed as Ted pushed his way through the dancing throngs.

The break into fresh air, the relief of open space, left Ted breathless.

“Ted!” The rest of the words lost.

Ted shook his head, slowly, trying to get across what he couldn't say.

Rol'ei's cool hand on his forehead soothed him. Bed. Only thing for this much alcohol is bed.

The trip back to the bunkhouse took a month, maybe two. The forest swallowing them, only to shit them out and start the whole process again. The camp looked alien and barren in the dark, the bioluminescence gone over the concrete. Dark desert. Dry dry and endless.

The bunkhouse stood like an oasis. Ted plunged his head into the container that collected rainwater, slurping down as much as his stomach could hold.

Rol'ei pulled his head out before he could fully quench the sandpaper tongue.

He walked on hands and feet up the few steps to the sleeping area. The latch on the door stumped him for a moment but his fingers seemed to know what to do about it. Rol'ei followed him in, closed the door behind them.

Ted barely registered the empty bodies in their cots as he collapsed in his own. His stomach hammered up its declaration, stating demands for a republic free of the tyranny the rest of the empire represented.

He stayed still, warring with the mixed signals his body offered until everything settled down. The moment he could, he closed his eyes and gave up the fight.

* * *

The shock from going from totally wasted to completely sober in an instant had Ted blinking for a few moments.

“You okay? You look like you're in shock there.”

He pushed up on the lid of the link-up.

“I was invited to a celebration. Rol'ei got me a bit drunk.”

“That'd explain all the singing going on,” Lisa said with a smile.

“Would you mind checking my body? I'm not sure it can handle everything thrown at it.”

“Whoa no, I'm off to bed. I was just coming in to check on you. You know where the med kits are. You can take care of yourself.”

“Gee, thanks, you're a helpful medic.”

“I'm a tired medic who has enough to deal with, without taking care of the voluntarily impaired. Toodles. Enjoy your hangover.”

She waved over her shoulder. A quick trip to the clinic got him the breathalyzer and detoxifying pills; not a cure for the upcoming torment, but a minimizer.

Ted picked up a spare exopack, pulled on the mask, and headed for the airlock.

The sky held darkness and little else. He stood for a moment, enjoying the feel of the wind. Dim lights glittered in the distance, the stars his avatar eyes had seen. He smiled and headed to the bunkhouse.

The sight that met him stopped him at the doorway.

Rol'ei had his body curled around that of his avatar, their nearly naked bodies spooned tightly together on his cot designed only for one.

“Rol'ei!” Ted came over to the Singer's side, touched his shoulder, his cheek. The Singer's eyes couldn't focus on him; tears streamed down his cheeks. He shoved weakly at the much smaller human. “Rol'ei, be still, it is me.”

The words in Na'vi seemed to cut through Rol'ei's haze.

“Ted?”

“Yes, it is me, Great Singer.”

Rol'ei's hand went from the empty avatar to the edges of Ted's exopack mask. Ted covered his hand with his own, as much to touch as to keep him from inadvertently pulling the mask off.

“Oel ngati kameie, Ted.”

“Oel ngati kameie, Rol'ei.”

“You collapsed, you wouldn't speak to me, and you came here and you collapsed.”

“Breathe into this for me.”

Ted put the breathalyzer to the Singers lips. It read a medium level of alcohol. It couldn't read whatever toxins were in that mash from earlier. He'd simply have to trust Rol'ei knew what he had made. He reset the machine and set it against the lips of his avatar; his body had nearly double levels of alcohol in his system. He shook out two tablets of the detoxifier, slipped them deep enough down his avatar's throat that the automatic responses swallowed them.

He put a tablet on Rol'ei's tongue. He made a face.

“You have made me swallow worse. It will help.”

He swallowed.

“You left me.”

Ted took Rol'ei's questing hand.

“I'm here.”

Rol'ei's eyes flickered closed. Ted shuffled a little, getting into a more comfortable position. He set the packet of tablets aside so he could trace the sweat-damp braids on the Singer's brow.

“Beeooteasul. What does that mean?”

“A word in my language. It means... a pleasure to look at,” Ted fought with the words, trying to find the right ones.

Golden eyes peered into his. A blue thumb caressed the glass of the mask. The eyes drooped closed again. He'd be as deeply asleep as Ted's avatar in a moment, between the drink, the venom, and the detox.

As Rol'ei's muscles relaxed, Ted slowly rolled him over to curl around the avatar. They looked like a matched set. Ted smiled. A set of drunkards.

“Don't leave.”

Ted frowned. Probably just sleep talk... he sighed. There weren't many chairs in the bunk house, but he pulled one over. Arms folded on the cot, cheek resting on the Singer's shoulder, he settled down to nap and keep an eye on the both of them.

If there were any ill effects from anything, he'd be woken up by Rol'ei.

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http://indanthronecomics.deviantart.com/art/Unconscious-186597613

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Eywa – the Spirit Mother, Goddess
Lisa – Lisa Furlan, medic and language expert
Mo'at – Omaticaya's Tsahik, spiritual leader or shaman for the clan
Rol'ei – Singer for the Ikran Clan
Ted – Edward Cera, Avatar ethnobotanist. A specialist in nutritional values of Pandoran plants.
Kelutrel, or Hometree – burnt down, the scene for most 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
Oel ngati kameie – I See you

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