Tharn Tir Naphal

  Phal sat at the table with the adults. It was an odd feeling. Next to him sat Sean his Cha’e Tzach or wise teacher. They had never truly bonded. It was not that he did not want to meet her halfway. Something always held him back and she knew it. He did not have a family to go to for advice. That was what she was for. So why was he not speaking to her?

  She was his cousin. Her and her father all that was left of his family. Still, something in him said not to listen to what she said. That little of it was worth the time to parse through it. He got better advice from Kaftal at the mission meeting. That was what this meeting was about. Sean had called it; demanded all warriors attend.

  She had embarrassed the elders and they intended to address it. He was certain it was the only reason they had allowed it.

  “This had better be good,” grunted Ahab Nor Pheikir.

  Pheikir was one of the oldest elders and was well know for his no nonsense rule. Pheikir was a fairly tall man. His head reaching almost to Master Ni’yell’s shoulders. His poloum sat braided down both shoulders. The sensitive appendages draped with a nobleness not often found. His skin a bronzy-purple. His eyes as golden as the setting sun.

  Pheikir sat arms crossed and a scowl upon his face. Sean snarled silently at the elder. If the elder noticed he said nothing.

  “We came here,” Sean stated. “With certain expectation and rights. That woman is no alpha,” she sneered. “I have seen an alpha first hand. She is weak. Her promises a lie.”

  Pheikir smirked. “Because you know so much, girl.”

  The insult hit its mark and Sean shot to her feet. “I have earned my companion.”

  “Oh?” Pheikir pretended surprise. “And where is this illusive creature?”

  Sean scowled. “It hibernates still.”

  Eyes wide enough to touch the stratosphere, Pheikir slapped the table. “Or is it the Isas wants nothing to do with you?”

  “Be careful old man,” Sean snarled.

  “Or what? Whom do you think is in charge of hibernating Skrill? Hm? If your disrespect for the Alpha that hosts us is anything to go by its no wonder Isas refuses to wake.”

  “Our ways are tightly written and are pivotal to our way of life. Even you,” Sean growled. “Are subject to those rites.”

  “Am I supposed to be afraid?” Pheikir wondered aloud. “You should be grateful that Alpha Micha does not follow ‘our ways,’ because she would crush your house for the shame you accuse her of. Have you even considered the harm you do Phal with this nonsense?”

  Both fists slammed the table as she all but howled. “He should not have been there without me. It is me that has been dishonored,” her hand slapped her chest.

  Phal shifted uncomfortably.

  “Bah,” Pheikir huffed. “It is not about you. We should be celebrating the honor that Phal has brought all of us.”

  “There is no honor,” Sean yelled. “Everything she does is a mockery of who we are.”

  “Be careful girl,” Pheikir warned. “There is walking a path and serving dogma. You cannot do both.”

  Sean laughed maliciously. “There will be no hunt as long as I am Cha’e Tzach. She will pay for the humiliation.”

  “And there it is,” Pheikir sighed. “You thought to rule a house that is not yours and were found wanting. Now you are angry because someone benefits from that house. You’ll damn anyone in your way. You were not strong enough to beat the Shawling, but you think you have the power to dominate his alpha.”

  “Phal, everything you have earned is being denied because it was not given to her. You have the right to turn away from her; just as I am about to do. Anyone who hopes to work with this pack should also turn away. I have born witness to the Alpha’s wrath and will have no part of causing it.

  “My house,” Pheikir stated. “Will stand when the day is done.” Pheikir kept his word and turned his back.

  Each of the other ten elders also turned away. One by one the warriors decided where they stood. More than two thirds of the warriors had turned away. Phal thought about the Maahes warrior, about the honor accorded, about what he wanted his future to be.

  “We are leaving,” Sean commanded. “Today we hunt a false prophet.”

  Phal remained seated as he considered what he believed of the new alpha. A hand yanked his braid. White hot pain flared up his skull, but he remained seated. Any attempt to turn him to face her was rebuffed. If she chose to march to her death so be it. He was not going down that road with her.

  He was going to be on the ship bound for Centurion Prime.

  “So, you’ve made your choice,” Sean sneered. “Well, you are not welcome in my house; coward.”

  “You know nothing about me,” Phal was disappointed at that realization. She had never known him. “Alpha spent less time with me and knows me better than you ever will.”

  The slap across the face came as a shock. Not that she had it in her, but that he had allowed her to slap him. Anger surged. Turning his back to her he started to walk away. The attack came out of nowhere. Pain surged through his poloum, then something wet ran down his back. The howl he let out was pure rage. He spun to face his attacker only to find Sean on the ground under the Alpha.

  There was something in her eyes. Something almost feral. Yet there was also something primal. There were no wasted movements, no expended energy that was not necessary. Sean stood no chance. Every attempt she made to escape alpha Micha ended in a tighter hold. He was not able to hear what was being said passed the ringing in his ears. Only thing he knew was she was deadly beautiful. A wonder of battle.

  None of the warriors that turned away from Sean had been touched, but each of the last warriors had all been taken down as easily as you please. Someone touched his shoulder and he looked up into warm eyes. The man knelt next to Phal and gently turned him so his back was to the stranger. The first touch was agony. It nearly caused him to lose consciousness. How he stayed on his feet was unknown.

  Pheikir approached and said something to the stranger. Last thing Phal remembered was the minor sting of a needle.

  Micha

  Micha stared out the window of the ship she was on. Next to her asleep was the young warrior that had earned the right to hunt according to a race that believed there was always more than one way to hunt and full maturity only came when the hunter was victorious at that first hunt. To have been given such an honor and to have almost lost it for someone else’s foolish pride. One of the poloum had nearly been cut free, a tragedy that they had not thought possible to recover from.

  She had convinced Medic and Desohta to save the appendage on the way to Centurion Prime. It had taken six hours to get it to a place where the healing pod they brought with them was able to repair the rest. That had taken four days. She suspected it was still painful considering how sensitive it was. So, she let him sleep.

  Soon he was going to face strange customs and be offered the right to repay Sean for the back attack. She had tucked the woman in the ship brig and left her there. What happened to her was entirely dependant on what Phal decided he wanted done.

  “Its time,” Desohta murmured. “He needs time to adjust to what happened and learn at least a few of the customs.”

  “Go ahead,” Micha waved at the boy. “I knew she was angry, but I was not prepared for her to attack her own family.”

  “It might have been different if you had not been there. How effective the pod was is an unknown. So far everyone that went in came out better than they went in. I think the prince should have been in longer.”

  “Maybe,” Micha sighed. “He has things to think about. Hard to do that when you’re asleep.”

  Phal groaned. “What…” he tried to sit up and ended up emptying his stomach at the sudden pain in his poloum.

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  “Easy,” Desohta spoke softly. “There is probably a lot of pain. One of your poloum was nearly severed. Nerve repair is…unpleasant at best. We thought about leaving you in the healing pod, but did not want to be the reason you did not join the hunt.”

  Phal gently ran his hand along his poloum and found where the cut had been, now there was a tender incision the felt month old. “How long,” he began and winced. “Until we get there?”

  “Thirty hours,” Micha spoke softly. “Just enough time to try and adjust to the sensitivity. We let you rest as long as we were able. Desohta reminded me that there are a few customs we should teach you.”

  “You needed a gift to bless the warrior chosen to hunt with you and they will have one for you. They believe that by sharing this way they enrich both the warriors and their clans with new means of hunting. So, my brother collected six staff like weapons for you to chose one to personalize.”

  “Pheikir told us that you wield a spear, glaive and naginata…” Micha continued.

  “I don’t know what those are,” Phal whispered.

  “Think you can stand?” Micha queried. “Ipino is waiting for you. He will show you how to personalize the one you chose. What I called them doesn’t matter. What maters is you liking the gift you give,” Micha shrugged. “I will leave you with Desohta to get changed. After you pick your gift, we will get something to eat.”

  Micha stepped into the ship’s hallway and made her way to the bridge. She tried not to micro manage, but also wanted to be approachable. It was a delicate balance that she needed to juggle. For now, she was just checking in. It was not easy trusting someone other than Mitah to fly, but Mitah had chosen the pilots for the ship she was on. They were not the only ones on the ship.

  It also carried cargo meant for other destinations. She had specifically not asked what cargo. As long as it was under contract it was fine. She paused to look out into the inky blackness of space. It never ceased to amaze her how different it was to look at from beneath a sky. The stars close enough to almost touch. Then out in the void the lights were so far apart it was disorienting.

  “Alpha,” was the murmur behind her.

  Turning there was a young woman standing with two others. Micha smiled warmly.

  “Was there something you needed?”

  “I just wanted to thank you for giving me the chance to be more than a slave.”

  “What’s your name?

  “Nene.”

  “Pleasure to meet you Nene. The only one you need to thank is the face in the mirror. All I did was open a door,” Micha looked her in the eyes. “You ran through and held tight. It was you that did that, did the hard work. I’m proud of you.”

  Nene blushed. “Yes, Alpha.”

  Micha watched them walk away laughing. Two of them teasing Nene until she was blushing. That little conversation was seemingly wasted, but if Nene gained even a little confidence it was worth it.

  “Micha,” Desohta called out. “Ready to eat?”

  “Sure,” she joined the trio. “What did you choose?

  “Charua,” Phal smiled. “The blade is well forged and I started the design for the handle. Ipino says you have some special stock I can make use of?”

  Micha gave a nod. “Rare feathers, special leather strips, small stones in more colours than I care to count and some precious gems,” she finished as they got in line. She grabbed cheesy buns to go with the stew. At the end there was a pudding. She nudged Phal into trying the pudding.

  The pudding ended up being the best part of the meal. Its caramelly texture was just bitter enough to cut the sweet. Short of licking the bowl…tempting as it was… there was no more to be had. Phal had been delighted by the creamy texture and bold flavor.

  The rest of the day she helped carve the design he had made. As they worked, she learned that his parents had taken Sean hunting and never come home. Sean had said that she had gotten lost, but part of him never trusted her. She might not have killed them, but he always suspected she abandoned them. There had been no urgency when she returned like she already knew that they were dead.

  She also learned that that day in the mission brief had been the first time anyone had taken him seriously. She learned that given a staff with a blade, he was able to wield it with precision. It was the gift his mother had given him. So, he trained every day to remain sharp.

  As Phal put the last line on the markings, she pulled out her little treasure box and set it next to the young man. She went through the items with him. In the end he chose three feathers of different lengths, an opal and leather strip that shimmered in the light. The hardest part was getting the opal set the way he wanted at the base of the blade. It fit perfectly. He wrapped the leather just under the opal and set the feathers at the same time. It was an impressive glaive when it was finished.

  With close to seven hours left, Micha taught Phal some ways to greet the hunters he was about to meet. She taught him little things, like slamming the drink mug to the table after eating or using your fingers to empty your plate. She had found that those little things made a difference in the end. Phal proved to be a great student so she taught him how to greet the hunt. When he was able to greet the hunt without forgetting anything she pronounced him ready.

  They sat in comfortable silence the last hour. With fifteen minutes left Micha was called to the bridge to receive Mustashar Al-dam Al-awwal’s greeting. Together they entered the bridge. She looked at it from the boy’s perspective and saw something wonderous. She approached the captain’s seat and told the captain to stay seated. Phal stood awkwardly beside her as the Maahes they met welcomed them into Centurion space. The hunter was delighted when Phal returned the greeting.

  “Ha, a hunter that continues to learn is wise indeed. We will feast after the hunt,” was the delighted growl.

  There had to be twenty hunters, both Maahes and Miysis. There was several that appeared to be Phal’s age. It made Micha smile. They were allowing Phal to chose who he was hunting with. Micha bowed hands over her heart like a thrust dagger, Phal was a heart beat behind the rest of her team did their best, too.

  Standing, she touched Phal’s shoulder. “This is Tharn Tir Naphal he is my newest warrior and had come as you have called for the great hunt.”

  The Maahes she recognized slid three youngster forward. Just as he was about to introduce them the one in the middle stepped forward. She gave a bow and turned to the others and fiercely growled. “This is my hunt and I will fight any who think otherwise.”

  Of the other two only one looked tempted to challenge, but in the end, she held her peace. The young Miysis that approached held out her arm in greeting. I have no true name. That I earn this hunt, but you may call me Makhtub.”

  Phal blushed as he clasped forearms. “Then you can call me Phal.”

  Micha held her peace. Let the girl prove she is worthy. More let her prove he is worthy. Ipino chose that moment to hand over the case that held his gift. Before he was able to hand it over the Maahes that had greeted us spoke up.

  “Normally, this is where we trade gifts, but she has chosen you to be more than a hunt partner. Any gift given will be weighed in that light.”

  Phal’s eyes widened slightly than truly looked at the young woman in front of him. Swallowing hard he set the blade down and held out a hand. After a second she reached out. Phal blushed furiously as he brought his poloum to the front of his shoulder and set her hand upon the tender flesh.

  “If we are more, than the first gift I give is this. To my people our poloum is sacred. It is very sensitive. For one with the skill, we are open books because our emotions show through these. To touch it is a promise of deep intimacy. Whether that is friends or…” he blushed furiously.

  Micha watched as the young makhtub caressed Phal in front of everyone. She almost laughed, but managed to keep a serious face. She sent Ipino back to the armory for the bag of leather she had been saving. It was an impressive gift that marked him as belonging to a strong house. After Phal was shown how to touch her mane, Micha coughed lightly.

  “Here,” Phal retrieved the blade. “This I carved to share the memory of our first hunt and decorated it in celebration of our meeting.”

  Makhtub accepted the blade with a sincere smile. The gift she gave Phal was a simple blade the length of Micha’s forearm. Simple though it might appear, it was well made and beautiful in simplicity. On his return. Ipino gave the bag to Makhtub. Inside was the leather of a drake that had been harassing farms and villages. The beautiful hide maintained its durability and lightness. It was going to make a lovely set of armour.

  Gifts exchanged, Micha suggest they get ready to hunt so that they might party.

  And ready they were. Makhtub knew the layout and where the ship’s owner was staying. Together they planned the hunt. Micha advise they keep it simple so as to have room to adapt. Phal found himself in a set of leather armor. It was the first time he had dressed for battle. Micha had to admit it looked good on him. Makhtub showed Phal a few general blocks with the blade just in case and he showed her how to wield the glaive.

  Micha almost laughed as the young Miysis purred while she watched Phal move through each motion. It reminded her of Renden. For a moment she was certain that all she had to do was reach out. That was how close to him she felt in that heartbeat. Then the moment was over and the young couple had their serious faces on.

  “Today you go out without true names and when your hunt is victorious you will know that name. It is sacred, it is wonderous and it is yours,” Micha all but howled at the end fists clenched at chest height and head thrown back. “go and return warriors, conquerors and victors.”

  Micha watched them trot off. They were as prepared as they were able. The only reason she was not following was the entire planet was warriors. Warriors that were going to see them dressed for battle and support them. So, why was she removing her weapons and changing into armor? Renden would have laughed at her for not being honest. She was alpha and whether they understood or not they were hers now.

  Prepared for whatever might come. She stepped back off the ship. Ipino stood ready in wolf form. They were able to keep up without having to see them all the time.

  “So,” growled the Maahes she knew because of his title. “How close shall we stand?”

  Micha chuckled. “Ipino can smell at great distance and detect the scents that determine danger levels. As long as he can smell them, we can get to them.”

  They kept an easy pace as Ipino kept track of them. Having lost the scent once and few quick questions clarified they entered a building to collect the ship owner. So, they pulled back. When Ipino caught their scents again they were a mix of anger and embarrassment. Then there was a familiar scent on the wind. A scent Micha had never needed another to locate.

  She was running before she knew she was moving. As she came around the corner she hollered. “Bomb! Get down.”

  Startled, Phal dropped the key accidentally and stumbled backwards; unsure of where to go he tugged Makhtub to him and braced for the explosion.

  Ipino leapt through the air, putting himself between the explosion and the young hunters. The explosion rocked the courtyard. Sending people in every direction. Micha grunted as she slammed into someone, who than hit a wall. All bets were off. This was no longer just a novice hunt. Too many had been involved.

  That was the ship owners’ first mistake.

  The second was not ensuring there were no survivors.

  The third mistake? Micha growled as she got to her feet. They pissed her off. Micha took an instant look at the scene before her and fumed. Had the bomb been planted? She searched for the site of detonation. She found it. Whoever made it was good but had screwed up. The bomb was supposed to explode than implode.

  Since she was still standing there…

  The size of the bomb was far more sophisticated than she had expected. It was the size of a ship key. Failure to implode left the bomb mostly intact. Enough for her needs anyway. She stormed over to Ipino to see if he had flattened the young guns. He grunted as he got off.

  betrothed