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The Chong Sheng Trilogy: War by rachelthedemon

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The Chong Sheng Trilogy

PART I: War

Chapter 18: Demon Wind

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He'd never felt so much apprehension in his life as the sea of war machines sprawled before him. But even that feeling was shadowed and dwarfed by determination and anger. How dare they. How dare they invade his sky and use its power to bring down the last crowning jewel of the world. They wouldn't be getting away with it, that was for damn sure.

First thing, he knew, was that he had to slow down their advance as much as possible. And unlike the ships at the North Pole, the ocean which these vessels sailed on was his element. He relaxed, making his limbs as flexible as possible before letting go of the glider and using one hand to swing himself up to stand atop it on the main beam.

Crouching low in stance, he spread his arms wide, swooping them up in a circle and bringing his hands forward in a rush.

The air obeyed, surging toward the front line in a massive wall of a headwind. They crashed backward into their fellow balloons, pilots and crew scrambling with the steering system to right themselves and failing utterly.

He took advantage of the confusion, using his hand to bend a quick helping draft and banking sharply to the left. Skirting as close as possible to the front line.

It felt like an airborne minefield. Every wrong turn was a disaster. Around every bend was a fireblast waiting to fry him on the spot. He was one lonely clay pigeon in the largest shooting gallery the world would ever witness.

He dove and swooped between ropes and whips and exploding fireballs as the crew manning each balloon tried their best to bring him down and ultimately missed both him and his glider in their panic. He couldn't quite say the same for himself, as the sharp end of the wing tore into canopy after canopy with an unmistakeable sound. Followed by screaming as the balloons themselves began to drift toward the ground with a rush of escaping wind.

He assured himself mentally as he diverted course to do the same to the other end of the line. This was going to be easier than he thought. Especially when a third rain of trebuchet fire from the outermost wall decimated the fourth line of balloons.

By now, they'd resumed advancing with the dissipation of the headwind, tacking into the remaining current. Aang looked back at the edge of the outer wall, feeling his heart sink as the gap between it and the army in front of him slowly narrowed. He swallowed thickly, righting himself and sucking in a huge breath as he banked toward the current front line.

He let it go as he raced past them, crouching on the foot behind him and sweeping both arms around front. The balloons shoved obediently backward as he kept breathing and blowing hard at them, amplifying the wind with his stance. He banked again once he cleared the line, angling the glider so the wingtip would again tear through the skins of the balloons.

But this time, no fiery attacks came. And he saw the reason as soon as he leveled off to turn around again.

Even as the ones he'd just damaged spiraled to the ground far below, the remaining craft pushed themselves further apart, shifting each whole row with small, perfectly synchronized and channeled fireblasts. Until the formation resembled a checkerboard rather than a phalanx, with a one-unit gap between each balloon and those cardinally flanking it.

And a moment later, he knew why.

One of the crew played lookout while the other two steered and propelled the balloon with calculated fireblasts. Large ones that the gaps between units were needed for lest they incinerate their comrades. Forward. Faster. Absolutely unstoppable. Aang felt his chest choke up. The front lines would be out of effective range of the trebuchets in no time.

He flipped back under his glider again, not even bothering with a headwind that he knew they could easily overtake now, especially by pulling that tacking maneuver again. Instead, he sought the balloon skins, determined to rip through as many as humanly possible.

Yet they'd gotten smarter on him. The vents of the first line's canopies opened, just enough to bring them under Aang and out of danger before closing and regaining their altitude. One after the other, staggered and spread out to reduce the wind's impact.

He couldn't believe it. In a matter of a couple hours, a whole army had adapted its strategy into something not even the Avatar himself could hope to slow down. The crushing weight of what he'd known since he'd first stared into that chasm filled with workers bore down on his heart now. It didn't matter whether he stayed and fought or ran away like a petulant child. Once again, he was letting the world down. Letting the last hope of the world be bombed to ruins.

No!

He swooped with a sudden burst of speed, flying in the fastest circle he could manage. Tight at first but slowly expanding, swirling the air itself with his glider into a wide, spinning column of roaring wind. The balloons around him followed suit, the crew's fireblasts snuffed out in the vacuum and the balloon itself caught helplessly into the invisible eddy. If he couldn't hold them off, perhaps he could hold them back.

Not this city. Not today.

****


By the pagoda grove on the north side of the outer wall, between the roots of the one tree that looked like a dragon's claw.

Iroh sighed, coming up to the grove itself and wiping a hand over his forehead. As much as he loved his nephew, the boy was lousy about directions. Though considering his life, he supposed it came with the territory.

Find the knot that looks like an eye.

He edged around the great trunk, as it was one of the thickest, oldest pagodas he'd ever seen, scanning the bark carefully until he located the mark that indeed looked like the eye of a dragon. Long and elliptical, with a slit of an iris and a stare that made the tree itself come alive with its own power. But even upon a closer look, it took him a moment to realize that the mark was not a scar from a long forgotten storm, but a carving, dug into a circular plug of wood.

Pull out the stopper. Use a twig to pry it if you need to.

He searched the forest floor for a bit, finding a thin, splintered twig with a fine end, and using it to jar the carved plug loose. It took him a few tries, but he managed it, revealing a long leather strap attached to the end. Arching a brow in curiosity, he gave the stopper a sound tug.

A loud creak sounded from under his feet, great wooden hinges squealing in protest. He jumped back, feeling the very piece of ground he was standing on start to give way, slowly revealing a yawning dark tunnel. He looked down into it, noting the musty smell of hewn earth and fertile soil. So much had he heard about the old headquarters, but he'd never actually seen it before now. Torn between awe and apprehension, he sucked in a breath and descended.

A long metal pole leaned against the wall of the tunnel inside, presumably to push the hatch closed. He did just that, lighting a small ball of fire in one hand as it cast him into inky, thick darkness. The cold hit him immediately. The complete absence of not only sunlight, but any light at all made him shiver, and he flared the fire a little brighter and hotter to compensate.

The tunnel itself was respectably long and very wide, and the hatch sealed slightly offset, allowing a breeze to flood in. It had to be one of the many venting tunnels Zuko had indicated. He held the fire aloft and started forward. Not that there was any other direction to go.

It felt like hours of passing nothing but hollowed rock walls, the occasional insect or sightless mammal scurrying by. Of course, it very well could've been. He knew the vastness of the city better than any general. Or anyone in the Fire Nation military period, for that matter. Few things acquainted one with the size of a settlement betterthan besieging it for almost two years.

Yet the entrance to the tunnel network was the only thing Zuko could give him directions for. He knew nothing else. Not that Iroh could fault him. Firebending was severely lacking in clairvoyance techniques. Not like Earthbending, which he didn't doubt for a moment the Avatar's little friend could very well read minds with. But at the moment, he couldn't do much except press on, going in the general direction toward the city's center. Or where he surmised the city's center was.

And it wasn't long before he heard footsteps in the tunnel up ahead.

He stopped. Listened. Wary.

They were most certainly a man's. A heavy gait, but determined and calculating, as though knowing exactly where he was headed despite the absence of sun or compass or light to read one by. The steps of a man with a map and purpose, neither of which he could lose easily.

"Avatar Aang?"

The sound paused, and a flare of fire blazed up ahead, answering his own

"Not the Avatar, but I hope a lowly Captain won't be too disappointing."

Iroh squinted into the inky darkness, making out the telltale shape and colors of Fire Nation battle armor, and the sharp lines and proud height of a senior field officer. And as he came closer, he made out the rough angles of a pale face, aged far more than he knew it ever should be judging from the man's voice. It was all familiar in a way, like a smudged engraving he knew he should recognize even if he could barely see it. Though it took him a few moments, those dark hazel eyes gave him away entirely.

"Lei?"

The man stopped dead in his tracks, blinking hard, face blanching for a moment. No small feat, considering his pallor rivaled pampered nobility.

"Y-Yes..." He bowed low, with an audibly hard swallow. "Captain Shen Lei, of the Second Taifeng Infantry. It's...It's an honor to see you again, General Iroh."

He smiled, waving the notion away. "We can dispense with the formalities. I have not been regarded as such for quite some time."

Shen reddened a bit, averting his gaze to the ground as he straightened up. "I suppose so, yes. I haven't exactlyt been a Captain of much in the meantime, either."

Iroh felt an internal shiver lace his spine at that, and his brow arched in intrigue. "What brings you down here?"

Shen pulled up the sleeve of his tunic, revealing the inside of his arm with a weary sigh. "Official business."

Iroh glanced from the tattoo to Shen's face and back again, a few times, the meeting he'd had in a certain flower shop coming back to him.

There are two from the Outer Circle in Ba Sing Se. One will arrange your cover in the city. The other, you will only meet if you need his aid. For your sake and ours, I pray it does not come to that.

He sighed inwardly. If only the man had known...

"I see. Zhu's brainchild is well underway, then."

Shen nodded, turned to the yawning passage behind him. "Central Camp is a pretty good walk from this end. Thanks to your warning, we've been taking in refugees by the score."

"That's good to hear," Iroh murmured, relieved. "May I trouble you as a guide? I'm afraid I won't be of much help wandering around and lost."

"Of course," Shen nodded, bowing once again. He smiled weakly. "Zhu would be most displeased if I didn't put the project to good use."

****


In his heart, he knew it was hopeless.

There were far too many of them.

But his mind refused to accept it.

He circled the battle plane once more, the vacuum from his speeding glider sweeping another half line of balloons into the chaptic vortex he'd been building, makeshift propulsion and all. He was not going to give the last hope of winning this war up to them so easily just because victory was one hell of a long shot.

Even if we fail, at least we tried.

The balloon crews made a valiant effort to right their craft between attacks flung from the wall, both archer and trebuchet, and he wished with everything in him that he had rocks or even water of his own to make use of. Other than throwing the balloons into each other, there weren't too many ways to bring the craft down with nothing but wind.

But on his next pass, he saw it. Felt the air itself surge with an all too familiar energy. The very sky pulse with tension. And the clouds tremble at the command of a master whose presence he would know anywhere.

They began to flow and gather like the ocean, surging between the craft as waves, flattening and and hardening into fine, razor-thin shards of ice. Deadly tips glistening in the dimming twilight. Hovering in wait. Until finally they swept in all directions, slicing through rope and canopy and basket like a cloud of sickles through a rice paddy. The sound of scared crewman barking orders as they scrambled to get off their doomed craft safely followed in the wake.

He turned, and felt his stomach flutter in relief. In the distance, three large hang gliders swept in on a thermal gust, the wings of each displaying a bright blue arrow. They were too far away for him to make out the faces of the pilots, but he didn't have to.

It's not your destiny to do it alone, Avatar. We're behind you, because it's our fight as well.

He looked back at the back lines of the advancing army, brows narrowed in determination.

Thanks, guys. And I won't let you down. If we're going under, we're taking them with us.


TO BE CONTINUED...


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