Chapter 8: Premonition
I have the strangest feeling,
I think it might be dread,
The darkest premonition,
Of the rivers running red.
It felt unnatural to be standing in the light after so long in the dark, but the soldier basked in it nonetheless. Crouched in the bushes, he slid his faceplate down a fraction so that the rays could reach his skin. Around him, his armour was already heating up, the external heat matching his internal fire, and he revelled in the feel of it.
“You! Private! Get ready!”
The words were uttered at such a clip that his faceplate was back on before he knew it, instinct overriding reluctance as the golden sunlight was cut away from his skin. The soldier sighed. They’d been waiting for a while now, and he was beginning to count the time by the intervals between the hisses for quiet.
And then...
There.
A blast of fire shot up from somewhere ahead of them, and the twenty men moved as one as they burst from their hiding places and ran bellowing down the hill. A single command echoed in their minds, repeated to them a hundred times as they had prepared for this day, prepared to sweep down on the quiet village that was already burning to the ground, its people flooding out onto the streets with tears and screams.
“Round them up.”
With army-trained efficiency, half the soldiers spread out, pushing and dragging their fellow people away from their burning homes and to the edges of the small town square. The other half split off to the middle, hauling stacks of whatever they could find. In under a minute, they had built an ungainly heap of chairs, broken tables and sandbags to form a makeshift platform. And then they parted to let their leader through.
The blocky man stood tall against the burning midday sun, the light casting his face into shadow when he turned to face the motley gathering of villagers. To them, the platform which elevated him above them seemed precarious, unstable in its mix of destroyed and destroying materials. And yet, he seemed to balance on it with such a certainty that they soon forgot about the fact that he was a man standing on a pile of broken wood. Because soon after he ascended he opened his mouth.
“My countrymen.” he murmured. “I am honoured to be greeting you today.”
A restless stir rushed through the gathered throng, the smoke from the fires blackening their faces and souls with hopelessness. Somewhere amongst them, a man wailed. A moving soldier quickly silenced him, and the man on top of the pile continued.
“Be proud, my fellow citizens. For today, you have been chosen for a very special message,” he swept his arms out grandiosely to the burning homes, the snap and crackle of the flame lashing the air. From somewhere in the crowd, a dry sob sounded, and it mixed with the smoke in the wind. The man gestured again as he spoke.
“Yes... be proud, and rest assured that your sacrifice is not in vain! Your houses burn today so that we may let the world know who we are. So that we may let the world know that we, of the Fire Nation, will never take the banished Prince as our leader! That we will restore our honour, and the glory of Agni! For we are meant for the conquering of the world, so that all can know and benefit from our splendour!” He was shouting now, his voice a dragon’s roar above the muted crowd. “We will not back down for the Avatar’s lackey! We will never bow to the traitor Prince!”
It was as if the last words were a signal, because all around him the houses chose at that moment to collapse. The sound of shrieking wood mixed with the cries of the soldiers around him as they stamped their feet and chanted amidst the crowd.
“We will not back down for the Avatar’s lackey! We will never bow to the traitor Prince! We will not back down for the Avatar’s lackey! We will never bow to the traitor Prince!”
Somewhere in the crowd, a mother covered her daughter’s ears. Another pressed her hand tightly over her baby’s mouth, leaving his nose free as he opened his voice to cry. Somewhere else, an old woman leaned against her bruised and battered grandson, silent tears trickling down her cheeks. The man on the heap smiled, and his voice suddenly grew soft.
“And mark my words, we will have our way no matter what fate decides to throw in our path.”
He let it sink into them, let it slide down their throats and seeping into their skin before he raised his voice once again. “And never fear, my countrymen! It is because we are ready, and because we are willing, that we have sent Prince Zuko And it is because of this that we have sent Prince Zuko another message. Just to be certain.”
The villagers watched, mute and terrified, as he drew out a single glinting object from his belt. Slowly, almost lovingly, he wove the dart around his fingers, the steel a deadly caress against his skin. Spread out in front of him, the silent crowd could barely see it, but the dart left an oily glitter on his hands as the clear poison dripped from its edge.
The man smiled, and then caught the weapon tightly in his palm. “News doesn’t travel fast in these backwaters. But the other message... it should reach him soon.”
8 8 8
The Fire Prince cut a lonely figure on the docks of the Fire Nation as Appa soared away through the air, his white fur quickly rendering him near indistinct from the puffy clouds. An onlooker might have wondered at how long he stood there, the wind whipping at his simple gold-embroidered robes. The sky seemed vast and open over him, like an empty bowl waiting to be filled by the turbulent promise of storm on the horizon. The greyness it lent to the sun cast a pall over both his face and the land that he stood on.
Zuko felt a strange lump rise in his chest, its numbness spreading out to his hands. For so long, the sky bison had been a silent catchcry to him, a dream drilled into his head just as his Firebending forms had been drilled into his body. Any sight, sound or trace of the animal had meant one thing; the Avatar. And of course, the Avatar had meant hope. Hope for himself, for his birthright, for his fierce longing to return home. Hope for Ozai’s love and approval, for a place, for the Fire Nation.
In the end, it all came back to the Fire Nation.
But that had been then, a few months ago that seemed like a lifetime. Now, as Zuko watched one-third of Team Avatar disappear into the sky, he wanted nothing more but to be with them, speeding away form his country to the people who truly needed him.
How things had changed.
And yet, how they hadn’t. The distant airborne speck was still the vessel of his hope. It was just different now. Transformed. It no longer relied on a loveless father, it rested on the slim shoulders of a twelve year old who had proved himself more than capable of holding it. Because even if Ozai’s living presence in the Tower disquieted him, he had no argument with the final outcome.
Zuko let a thin smile crook his lips. The Avatar and the Fire Lord. Fate and Destiny. They were all funny, funny things.
I’m counting on you, Aang.
Zuko took one last glance at the horizon and then turned abruptly away, his robes dragging heavily over his feet. He had only taken two steps, however, before he was pulled up short by the sight of his Chief Advisor standing less than a foot away, his keen eyes twinkling brightly.
“Very, very good, your highness,” the old man murmured. “At the very least, your detractors can never say that you neglect to back your words with action.”
Zuko let out a muted rush of breath. “Chief Advisor Hui,” he said, inclining his head briefly to hide his shock. The old man was quiet despite his age; Zuko hadn’t even heard his footsteps. Suddenly, he wondered just how long he’d been standing there, and a thread of discomfort wormed its way through his gut. “What brings you here?”
It came out more curtly than it was meant to, but the other man didn’t seem to notice. “Your highness,” Hui bowed much lower, befitting his position. When he straightened again, a smile reformed his lined face. “There was somewhat of a... stir after your departure. I merely came to see if you could use my services, but I see that they are not needed.”
Zuko kept his expression stony. “You agree, then, that sending two twelve year olds out to a war zone is keeping the Fire Nation’s best interests at heart?”
The smile faded away slowly, naturally, like the owner was just folding it away for another time. “The Fire Nation will never again make the mistake of underestimating Avatar Aang. And besides his more obvious credentials, his swiftness is his strength in these tumultuous times.” He paused, as if trying to choose the right words. “Yes... I do believe that your course of action was wise.”
Zuko narrowed his eyes. Hui gazed back at him, dignified and serious. The opacity of him was beginning to be infuriating - the experience in his calmness, the benevolence that shrouded his features... he wished he could rip it all up and expose the man underneath. There were too many daggers lurking in the shadows, too many people who could be wielding them. Zuko clenched his jaw. He was tired of political games already, and he had been home for barely three days.
How can I even begin to restore the Fire Nation’s honour when I don’t even know who to trust?
“Tell this to me straight, Advisor Hui,” he said coldly. “Why are you here?”
It could have been the tone in his voice, but the old man bowed slightly, a strange expression flickering over his features as he understood. And then, like a wave of water, Hui’s face smoothed into almost serenity as he lifted his face to the overcast sky.
“For one hundred years, the policy of the Fire Nation has been geared towards the war. We Advisors have played no part in choosing the direction, we have merely shaped and guided it as is our role.”
The old man straightened, a proud nobility settling around his shoulders like a cloak. “But now, I sense that the times are changing. In the last few days, more than a war has been brought to its end. The Fire Nation’s journey has been halted, has been redirected to something different. And so, like all new beginnings, we must weather and adapt to the changes.”
There was a long silence between them, two men on the docks as the sea whispered agitatedly in the bay and the distant cries of market seller sliced the air. And then a flicker crossed Zuko’s eyes. “You are wise, Chief Advisor.”
Hui’s blood-red robes brushed the ground as he inclined his head and dipped, a benign smile resting on his face when he rose. “Thank you, your highness. In my position, that is the highest compliment.”
Zuko dipped his head, and then felt a sudden weariness rush through him. “I... apologise,” he said suddenly, even as his own voice screamed inside his head at what he was about to do. Show no weakness! Show no fear! What are you doing?! “I did not mean to interrogate you.”
As if Zuko hadn’t just broken all of his own rules, and quite a few expected codes of conduct as well, Hui shrugged as if nothing had happened. “There is no need to apologise, your highness. I understand that these are trying times, and you are only being cautious. That, too, is wise.”
He paused for a moment, and then continued. “And in the light of that all, I would advise this. Trust your Ministers only by what their actions tell you. It is just... unfortunate that that level of judgement already fails some of them.”
Ah yes... Without consciously meaning to, Zuko felt his own paranoia stir up again. The Minister for War, the Minister for Security... the empty seat where the latter should have been spoke even more than the former’s insolence. Zuko nodded his head in silent acknowledgement that he had taken the words into consideration, and then began walking again. His Chief Advisor turned and followed at his shoulder, moving with an almost gliding grace that spoke of years of practice. Nothing was said as they moved up the path back to the palace, and an odd sort of calm settled over the Fire Prince as they went.
Whatever old and new worries that the Ministerial meeting had stirred up, tomorrow would mark Azula’s funeral... and his coronation. And that was what he had to focus on now. To be honest, despite his lifelong dream to lead his country into the light, he almost wished that it wasn’t happening so fast. The way he’d envisioned it over the last couple of days had included a crowd of four peoples, of the Avatar standing by his side and all of his friends in attendance. But now... there was no way the peoples of the four nations could gather in such a short time, and even if they could, he wondered if it would be peaceful. Toph was gone with Aang to quell the disturbances in the Earth Kingdom. Zuko sighed. Ah well, nothing was perfect. It’d be annoyingly symbolic, actually. Because despite his friends... at the end of the day, the burden of restoring the Fire Nation’s honour rested on his shoulders and his shoulders alone.
Zuko sighed again and straightened said shoulders. How he wished he could delay the ceremony now... at least until everyone could return. He would have liked Iroh to be there too, despite his uncle’s protests about the old and the new and what the people would and would not accept. Unconsciously, Zuko reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. At least he would have Sokka, Suki and...
... Katara.
Zuko’s eyes shot wide open, and suddenly he remembered the paper he’d thrust into his pocket, the open window and Aang’s large, glassy gaze. The image of the floating curtain was all he could see for a moment, and then he was gone. Somewhere in the corner of his mind, Zuko registered himself mumbling a short dismissal, and heard Chief Advisor Hui’s words echo back. But then all he could feel was the movements of his own body, of his swift turn and of his run to the privacy of his father’s study.
Zuko swung the door open and collapsed on the seat, his controlled movements only taking him half an inch away from sending the soldier figurines on the floor to a clattering heap. The letter was already in his hand. Carefully, Zuko unfolded it, noting the extra creases put there by Aang’s grip.
The first thing that he realised was that it was a very large piece of paper for the single sentence that adorned its surface, like the first line of an unwritten story. The strokes were clear but hurried, and it was with a strange sense of detachment that he finally let himself understand what had been written.
Take care of each other.
It was funny how that was all she really needed. Five words. Five words to say all that she could have said, all that she wouldn’t have said, and even the million things that she didn’t need to say. Things like I love you all and I’ll be back, and even don’t come looking for me. It was as if the life and the passion in her burnt so fiercely that it overflowed into even her writing.
Gently, Zuko set the paper down onto his desk. It unfurled unharmed, its swift penmanship facing the sky, and he let his fingers brush lightly over the dried ink. They were just five words, and yet he took a strange kind of comfort from seeing them. He had family now, besides Uncle. Azula might be dead, and Ozai might be rotting away in the dungeon, and his mother might be Agni-knows-where...
But he had family.
Exactly five seconds after that comforting realisation washed over him, reality set back in like a pailful of cold water. Take care of each other... that mean that Katara was no longer there. Katara was gone, lost in the swirls and chaos of the post-war world... and they had no idea where she was.
The first thing that came to him was disbelief. Why? Why now? Why, after they’d only just finished it, and then only just began picking up the pieces would she leave now? Thinking, Zuko cast his mind back to the last time that he’d seen her, trying to find some reason amongst the confusion. And then he froze.
“I did think of something. I’m just sorry that it wasn’t good enough for you.”
Zuko was halfway through his transition from bewilderment to panic, when a voice cut through him and he swung himself around to face the doorway.
“Pr... Zuko?”
“Shen Li,” Zuko shook his head to clear it and pushed the letter away from him, the cloak of business quickly descending on his thoughts. “What brings you here?”
Perhaps if he had been more settled, he would have noticed that the guard captain’s face was unusually expressionless, even for him. As it was, Shen Li merely looked like something important was up, which really was to be expected. “What else? I found who you were looking for. Lady Mai and Ty Lee. They’re at the Boiling Rock.”
It was so very simple. Lady Mai and Ty Lee. They’re at the Boiling Rock. But somehow, it wasn’t, because it meant that both relief and guilt clawed him at the same time. Zuko exhaled slowly, extricating himself from all the resurfacing feelings and promising himself he would deal with them later when he was alone.“You work quickly,” he said finally, his voice flat but encouraging. “That’s a talent.”
Shen Li allowed the compliment to bend his lips into a smile, but then the lightness dropped from his face again. “That’s not the only thing I found,” he continued grimly. “I was looking through the older archives... there are still two waterbenders from the Southern Water Tribe in our prisons. Not at the Boiling Rock, of course. But close by, on another island.”
Zuko blinked, and pushed away the image of deep blue eyes. Not now, not her. “After all this time?” he demanded in disbelief. “How can that even be possible?”
Shen Li laid the papers down on the desk. “The raids took place over a number of years. From what I understand, these waterbenders were barely fifteen when they were taken the last time.”
Zuko let the horror seep quietly into his stomach. “And they’ve been in prison ever since?”
Shen Li nodded. “And not just the Southern Tribe Waterbenders,” he lifted up another sheaf of paper. “There are a few Earth Kingdom rebels that have been there nearly half as long, which is still a decent time.”
Water... Earth... an idea began to form in Zuko’s head as he heard them, and he was almost afraid of it for a moment. What are you thinking? he asked himself silently, derisively. To pull this off, you need luck. And since when, Prince Zuko, have you ever been lucky?
But then again, risk alone had never been enough to deter him.
Zuko set his shoulders. “How long will it take you to get to the Boiling Rock and to the Waterbenders’ prison and back again?”
The unspoken request rang silent in his eyes, and Shen Li was surprised at the ease with which he read it. Unbidden, his eyes travelled to where Zuko’s fingers hovered unconsciously over a piece of paper, and he felt his eyebrow arch slightly. Interesting. Perhaps that had something to do with it...
Reluctantly, Shen Li wrenched himself away from his curiosity and glanced at the midday sun, gauging its distance from the horizon. “If I start off now, and with minimal delay... I should be back with Lady Mai, Ty Lee, the Earth rebels and the Waterbenders by mid-morning tomorrow.”
“Perfect, that still gives us around two hours before the ceremony itself.” Zuko nodded in satisfaction, and then a faint grin spread itself over his features. “You’d best get going, then. Oh, and while you’re at it, send out those scouts I was talking about this morning. I want all my bases covered as soon as possible.”
Shen Li’s eyes strayed to the map on the floor, his heart sinking into his chest. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, Zuko, but the secret army is the last thing you need to be worrying about at the moment.”
Zuko frowned. “What do you mean?”
Shen Li’s hands tightened. “Tomorrow is your coronation. A public event. All of your people in the capital will be there. Many from the country will be coming in too. Not to mention the fact that your nobles will all be assembled in one place, and the fact that you will be inviting war prisoners who have every reason to hate you. Security is going to be nearly impossible to monitor.”
Zuko shrugged. There was little room for manoeuvring now, and even littler room for fear. “Well, that’s what your father is for, isn’t it?”
The silence was deafening. Zuko turned slowly to see the strangest look on the guard captain’s face, and a faint glow of recognition sparked within him. He’d never seen that expression before, he was sure of it. And yet, there was something about it...
It was Shen Li’s eyes that did it; his unmarked, unburned eye. Suddenly, Zuko realised exactly why everything about it seemed so alien, and yet so familiar.
“Shen Li,” he began slowly, his eyes never leaving the other’s face, “ Your father wasn’t there at the Ministerial meeting this morning.”
Shen Li said nothing. I know.
Zuko pushed back his chair and rose, each movement drawn out and pulled down by its weight. “Shen Li, I need to know this now. Tomorrow, when I am crowned Fire Lord, will I have to keep an eye in your Father’s direction as well?”
Silence.
Zuko’s voice grew harsher. “Will I have to watch my back when he gives me his reports? Will I have to send spies to follow his movements? Dammit, Shen Li, answer me!”
The silence grew, spread, stretched, and then... “No,” Shen Li said at last, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “He wouldn’t do that. For all of his pride, Father wouldn’t do that.”
Zuko thought back to the empty seat, to his paranoia, to Chief Advisor Hui, and then sighed. “ I hope you’re right,” he said grimly. “Because you’re also right about one thing. I’ve got too many things to worry about now.” The Fire Prince sighed, and then slumped back into his seat. “The uprising, the coronation, the Earth Kingdom, Katara going missing...”
Shen Li jerked back in surprise. “The waterbender? What do you mean by ‘going missing’?”
Zuko rubbed his eyes tiredly, lowering his posture to rest his forehead in the palm of his hand. “Perhaps that was the wrong term... I think it’s more like she’s made herself go missing.”
“I see. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”
The Fire Prince sat back up again, his fingers reaching out for the note. “She left last night, I think... that was the last time anyone saw her. But with that amount of time, she could be halfway to a lot of places by now.” Zuko shook his head with an aggravated sigh, and then lowered himself back down to rest on his palm again. “Although somehow, I think I’d feel a little better if she was close by. For all of our troubles, the Fire Nation is safer than the deck of some pirate’s ship for a girl.”
There was a pause. “You might want to rethink that.”
Zuko’s head snapped up to meet the guard captain’s gaze. “What do you mean?”
Shen Li nudged a horde of figurines with his foot, and the blood-red soldiers shifted sideways until they roughly matched the red marks that had dotted the scroll. He did it again, sweeping the figures indiscriminately from random parts of the map until a veritable army was massed in the mountain ranges of the Fire Nation like a sea of crimson.
“She’s by herself, yes?” Shen Li asked quietly.
Zuko said nothing, and then... “As far as we know.”
Shen Li shifted his armor-clad feet one last time, the movement adding one final contingent to the poised sprawl of soldiers. “In that case, I think you’d better hope that she’s far, far away from the Fire Nation right now.”
