Chapter 15: Fall
When trouble calls,
And chances fall,
Trust heart in deed, not wording.
The map of the Northern Water Tribes seemed distant and shapeless. Sokka frowned as he stared at it, trying to figure out whether the errors were a result of summer meltings or holes in Fire Nation intelligence. But his mind blanked at the memory of the great, frozen city; the icy splendour which no cartographer’s sketchings could ever hope to capture.
“... so I guess you can drop anchor here and make the announcement to Arnook. Do you think that’s far enough, Sokka?”
The water tribe warrior blinked, and re-focused. “Far enough to what?” he asked wryly, leaning over to see where Zuko was pointing. “Not look threatening? Hate to remind you, Zuko, but where we’re from, any hulking monstrosity of metal looks kinda threatening.”
The Fire Lord looked up from where he was examining the map and scowled. “The battleship is the only way you can all get there quickly. I explained that already.”
“Just what is the rush, anyway?” Suki asked curiously, absentmindedly walking her fingers across the parchment. “Sokka just told me that there’s been trouble with Chief Arnook, but from all I’ve heard he sounds like a decent man.”
Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not all him,” he explained tiredly. “Basically, all the nobility there are trying to get some kind of concession from us to prove that the war is really over. That’s not my main concern, though, I think the battleship should serve as a good enough symbol. His letter hints that there are lobby groups in the Northern Water Tribes who are pressuring him to repudiate the peace talks.”
Sokka’s eyes went round. “You’re kidding me. They want to keep fighting?”
Beside him, Suki pursed her lips. “It’s kind of understandable, though,” she pointed out reluctantly. “I mean, they’re probably still stinging from the invasion earlier this year. I wouldn’t be surprised if many want revenge, just like what’s happening in the Earth Kingdom.”
Before Zuko could interject, Sokka shook his head angrily. “But Aang defeated the invasion! We...” he swallowed “They.... I know they lost a few... important people, but that’s really been the first time they’ve been touched through this war. It’s been the Southern Tribes that have taken the brunt of everything, and Dad’s more than willing to negotiate!”
Suki frowned. “That’s true too,” she admitted. “And the Fire Nation has been way more involved in conquering the Earth Kingdom...”
Zuko sighed. “Somehow, I don’t think this kind of anger should be measured by who got attacked when. It’s clear that there’s just trouble, and I need people who I can trust there.”
The look that passed between Sokka and Suki spoke volumes. “In that case, may I just say again that I think bringing Kata and Hama along is a really bad idea?” Sokka ventured. “I mean, you haven’t met Hama, Zuko. I’m pretty sure she’s a few icebergs short of a glacier. If there’s trouble in the Northern Water Tribes, she’ll probably be only too happy to stir it up.”
“Then what should I do instead?” Zuko demanded. “Keep her in jail?”
“Well, yeah,” Sokka responded bluntly. “I think you should.”
Zuko stared at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe that you, of all people, are asking me to do that. She’s from your tribe! My people put her through hell, and you’re suggesting I let her stay there?”
“She put your people through hell too,” Sokka reminded him ruthlessly, his stolid face betraying nothing of what he had seen her put Katara through, put everyone through. “Innocent ones at that. Is that really any better? Come on, Zuko, think about it. She wants to avenge herself against the Fire Nation people no matter the cost. If the Northern Water Tribes are thinking about repudiating the peace talks, she’s the last person you want there!”
Zuko shook his head. “No, I’ve made up my mind,” he said stubbornly. “If that’s what she wants... then so be it. I’ve been given more second chances than I deserve. It’s time I gave them to somebody else as well.” He paused and looked hopefully up at his friend. “Who knows? Maybe this time, if she’s given her freedom and forgiven, she might change.”
How could he argue against that? Sokka found himself opening his mouth out of instinct, and then slowly clamping it shut again. Then he shook his head and sighed. “Fine,” he crossed his arms sourly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. But we are timing this so that it doesn’t coincide with the full moon. Got it?”
Suki frowned. “What happens on the full moon?”
With a loud, theatrical sigh, Sokka stood up, extended his left hand into the air, and then mimed astonishment and terror as it started clawing at his own neck. Suki and Zuko shared a confused glance, just before the water tribe boy began choking dramatically, flailing his arm around from side to side as he pretended to punch himself in the head with his right fist. Finally, he collapsed slowly to his knees, twisting like a bent puppet and jerking every so often until he landed in a heap.
He lay there for a few moments, breathing hard from his performance, and then levered himself up with his crutch. “See? Bad.”
Suki looked at him askance. “What was that, now?”
Sokka huffed in annoyance. “What, you want me to show you again? Fine!” He moved his hands back to his neck, fully intent on choking the life out of himself once more before Suki slapped them away.
“Stop that!” the Kyoshi warrior ordered him. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just... what exactly were you trying to show?”
A dim glow of recognition came to Zuko’s eyes before Sokka could speak. “I think... I kind of get it,” he said haltingly. “I saw Katara doing something like that once. What is it though, exactly?”
“Bloodbending,” Sokka intoned in a grave voice. Then he snapped back to normal and shook his head. “And let’s just say I’m not eager to relive... wait. Did you just say you’d seen Katara doing that?”
The Fire Lord remembered the sound of the ocean slapping against the metal hull, the snap and curl of the sea raven flag. He closed his eyes briefly and tried to shake the image from his head, of the man’s wide-eyed fear as he was jerkily brought to the floor. “The Southern Raiders,” he explained simply.
Sokka paused. “Oh.”
Suki looked at the suddenly subdued pair and bit her lip. “Right then,” she said uncomfortably, glancing at the calendar. “If we want to avoid the full moon, we’d better leave tomorrow at the latest. It’s only a week and a half away.”
Sokka blinked and gathered himself again. “Right then,” he nodded, his voice tinged with irony. “And after that, all we have to do is convince Arnook the war’s over and help quell an entire city full of vengeful water tribe. Sounds like fun.”
Zuko didn’t even wince, his gaze as steady as his trust. “Thank you,” he said simply, and the three teenagers shared a brief moment of solidarity before Sokka and Suki rose and departed.
8 8 8
The Dragon of the West was not a fan of small, enclosed areas. Iroh fidgeted uncomfortably behind the throne room wall, wishing he’d thought to bring a Pai Sho tile to quiet his fingers with. It was becoming difficult to maintain focused, and since that was the entire point of the exercise, he was wondering whether he should begin to despair. Of course, perhaps it wasn’t entirely the fault of the spy-hole chamber. Iroh sighed, and raised his third cup of tea to his lips.
“Oh do quit worrying, Iroh!” Bumi shifted next to him, eagerly peering out the thin line of holes that served as their window. “Aang will be fine. He’s got the stuff in him!”
Iroh paused, settling his cup back down and folding his arms into his sleeves. “I believe he does too,” he nodded. “But still, he and Miss Toph are only twelve. And while I have full faith in their abilities, it seems a bit much to just leave them to the court and the nobles over five times their age without any other guidance.”
“Then why don’t you stay? Wait!” Bumi held up a hand before Iroh could reply. “Look who’s coming now! Grrr... I don’t like him. And his fashion sense is terrible.”
Curious, Iroh craned his neck to see the next supplicant, and was somewhat surprised when the eye holes revealed a middle-aged man stylishly clad in the traditional garments of Earth Kingdom nobility. Iroh raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”
“Shh!” Bumi ordered, flapping his hands. Iroh quietened and settled his attention on the scene. Despite his worry, he smiled as he focused on the two twelve year olds in front of them, his grin widening as Toph looked down imperiously from the dais.
“And what do you want?” she asked loftily, folding her right leg primly over her left in a manner completely at odds with her question. Beside her, the Avatar groaned and slapped his forehead. A red mark was quickly beginning to develop there, and Iroh had little doubt that Aang would wake up with a headache tomorrow.
“Great Avatar, and honoured Miss Bei-Fong,” the man lowered his head perfunctorily. Then he straightened, and Iroh pursed his lips at the ire he saw flashing there. “I demand that you remove those disgusting Fire Nation soldiers from my house at once!”
Aang’s smooth brow furrowed. “Where exactly is your house, Mr... uh...”
“Hao. And it’s the third on the left from the entrance to the upper tiers, where...”
“Hang on a sec,” Toph pointed accusingly at his face. “You came to see us about this yesterday! I knew I’d heard your voice before!”
Iroh watched with interest as Aang suddenly straightened in his seat. “Good catch, Toph,” he said, his gaze turning stern. “Well then, Mr. Hao. Has the situation changed in the last twenty-four hours?”
The man squirmed, and Bumi had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from snorting in delight. His discovery seemed to have sucked the nerve out of him. “Well, not really, but...”
“Then stop wasting our time!” Toph slammed her foot down. “Zuko’s soldiers are helping to rebuild your house right now, you idiot. How many times do we have to tell you that?”
Hao flushed. “I beg your pardon, Miss Bei-Fong,” he started off frostily, but then at the warning glint in her eyes he softened to condescension. “I know it must be hard for you to understand since Gaoling was not touched by the war. But I am simply asking that the effort be undertaken by good, reliable earthbenders instead of... trash.”
Toph’s nostrils flared before Aang could intervene. “No, I think that you don’t understand. Ba Sing Se is massive. There simply aren’t enough ‘good reliable earthbenders’ for them to do it by themselves. The war is over now. The Fire Nation soldiers are here to help, so if you’re going to get off by calling them trash, I suggest you resign yourself to your house remaining unliveable for the next three months!”
From behind the wall, Iroh smothered a chuckle with his palm. Next to him, Bumi was shaking gleefully. “That’s the Blind Bandit for you!” he crowed. “Oh Iroh, she’s making mincemeat of them!”
Iroh bit back another laugh, nodded in agreement, and refocused on the scene. Hao was now nearly puce with anger, but his stiffness showed that he at least retained enough of a grip to realise that facing down the tiny earthbending master in front of him was hopeless. The General watched with interest as the same thought seemed to cross the Avatar’s mind. From the corner of his eyes, Aang glanced at Toph questioningly. And although she couldn’t have visually registered it, her bare toes shifted across the stone at her feet and she gave him an imperceptible nod. He caught it and set his shoulders, just in time to meet Hao’s pleading gaze as the man turned from Toph’s unyielding scowl to the seemingly more malleable Avatar.
“These are difficult times for readjustment for us all, Mr Hao,” Aang said neutrally. “I know that it is hard to see people who used to be enemies as friends, but that’s what has to happen if we want peace. Unless Zuko’s soldiers are acting wrongly, you have no grounds for protest... except if you want your house to remain unfixed.”
There was a pause as the Earth Kingdom noble visibly stared. Aang met his eyes almost serenely. “That will be all, thank you, Mr Hao,” he said.
The man visibly deflated before walking slowly back the way he came. Iroh didn’t bother to suppress a smile as he made a mental note of the occasion and filed it away with the others. He had to admit, despite his doubts, so far the two were doing surprisingly well. Where a firm hand was needed, Toph seemed to instinctively step up to the fore, and it was almost as if her presence hardened the Avatar’s backbone as well. And yet when a more delicate touch had been needed, Aang had intuitively sensed it as well, and his gentler approach had rubbed off a little on the earthbender. It was heartening to see.
As soon as Hao was out of sight, though, Aang slumped back. “Did I do good?” he asked hopefully, turning to Toph.
The girl smiled and punched his arm. “You’re getting there, Twinkletoes. And yeah, I think we did good. Hao should spread the word around his highborn friends, so hopefully we won’t be getting any more arrogant nobles complaining about the joint rebuilding. Then we can move on to some real problems!”
Aang sighed and cradled his head in his hands briefly, before sitting up again. “Real problems. Yay.”
From behind the wall, Iroh sipped his tea thoughtfully. “They work well together,” he observed out loud to his companion, watching as Toph called out imperiously for the next person to come in. “Better than I would have thought, actually. Then again, their approaches do balance each other out quite well.”
“Ah, Iroh. You and your balance,” Bumi grinned. “Still, you’re right. The old two-two with young Toph is just what Aang needs to keep his head straight with these people.”
“Perhaps, but maybe an extra hand is needed too,” Iroh lowered himself back into his chair as he mused. “And now I am torn between where I am required more. Zuko will have his other friends to help him too... I believe Miss Katara’s steady head and open heart will definitely help him there. Not to mention that young Sokka has proven himself highly capable.”
“What about that other boy you mentioned?” Bumi asked. “That Shen Li fellow?”
“Him?” Iroh’s teacup paused halfway to his lips. “Ah, yes. He is more of a gamble, I admit, but I have faith in him too. He and Zuko are more alike than they know. Hopefully they will find a trusted friend in each other now that the war is over, instead of the enemies they would likely have been.”
He frowned and turned the china in his hand, noting how delicate it was, the chip at the corner, how easily it would shatter with one misplaced finger. “Still, it remains a gamble, and it is one of the reasons I’d hoped to return. Zuko will need my aid if my instincts have failed.”
Bumi paused, turning away from the peep holes to swipe a piece of lettuce from a bowl to his side. “Your nephew’s grown a lot since the last time I saw him,” the King of Omashu commented, munching noisily. “I think he’ll do just fine for a while without you. You’ve taught him well, after all.”
Iroh smiled. “Thank-you, King Bumi. As always, your opinion is greatly valued and...”
Suddenly, he frowned again. “Wait, you’ve never actually seen Zuko before last week, have you?”
Bumi shrugged, and reached for another piece of lettuce. Iroh stared at him for a moment, and then sighed. Carefully, he sipped his tea once more and wondered how his nephew was doing, only half-listening to the next person presenting himself before the Avatar and his earthbending master.
“Greetings, great Avatar and honourable Master Bei-Fong.” The man swept himself into a low bow, and then straightened with the grace of experience and calculating precision. “My name is Feng, and these are my earthbending soldiers. What can we do to serve you?”
8 8 8
“So... nice day today, isn’t it?”
Mai didn’t even glance at him, her face studiously blank and facing forwards. “Absolutely stunning,” she replied dryly.
They had been riding for a few hours now, the afternoon sun trickling sweat down their skin and trapping heat in their hair. Above them, the sky stretched out as blue as the ocean, with nary a cloud in sight. Combined with the smooth jolting of the basilisk beneath her, Mai was reminded eerily of another time, in another land, when there had been two girls beside her instead of one man, and the quarry had been the Avatar.
Mai hunched over her mount and decided she didn’t particularly like that memory. Then again, she was beginning to wonder whether she liked any of those memories. Thinking of Azula made her think of her brother, which made her think of the confirmation that had spilled from Zuko’s lips only a few hours ago. And although the hurt had eased, it was still a painful reminder of what had occurred..
Left behind, nothing special, Azula had said. First at the Academy, then after Zuko’s first betrayal, when the princess had pretended to think her friend hadn’t been listening. Mai’s heart clenched.
“So... how are you faring?”
This time, his voice was almost a welcome diversion, and Mai shook her head in grudging admiration. He really didn’t give up, she noted with a measure of relief and bored amusement. Still, that didn’t mean that she had to entertain him either. “I’m fine,” she replied curtly, riding on without meeting his gaze. She heard him exhale once, and then turned her attention back to their surroundings.
For a while, there was no other sound but the rustle of their mounts’ claws as they dug into the dry grass beneath them. Mai squinted against the sun to see the plains rolling ahead. Every so often, the landscape was broken by a sprawl of wildflowers or a hardy bush. But for the most part, it was just grass and dirt, and Mai couldn’t help but sigh.
How boring.
Beside her, she heard her companion shift in his saddle. Aside from his carefully ventured questions, he too had been silent for most of the way. Mai pursed her lips. Perhaps the next time he tried to start a conversation, she might play along. Even if his questions were inane...
As if on cue, she heard him clear his throat. “So... why did you call me ‘the boy with the wires’?”
Mai jerked upright in surprise, and then flushed when her eyes turned and found his sly grin. Annoyance began to stir in her stomach as she realised that he’d been playing her the entire time, when she thought that she’d been the one playing him. Still, Mai was nothing if not resilient. Springing back, she raised her eyebrow. “It seemed natural enough,” she said, her voice flat as if her heart wasn’t racing in remembrance. “The first time I saw you was at an Academy presentation when you were showing off.”
The barb elicited nothing but a pleased grin. “You enjoyed that, then?” he asked lightly, as if it didn’t matter to him whether she had.
Mai paused, recalling the soaring sense of freedom which had shaken her to her fingertips, the image of the fluttering paper against the sky. “It was interesting,” she finally said, as if it were anything but. “I’ve never seen a weapon like that before.”
Shen Li seemed to consider that as he balanced leisurely in his saddle. Then he smiled, and this time there was nothing hidden or mask-like in it. “Would you like to have a better look?”
Mai hesitated, and then silently nudged her mount closer to his until their legs were nearly brushing across the divide. Shen Li bent towards her at the same time, pulling his sleeves up over his wrists. Her eyes widened fractionally at the sight the movement revealed.
Beneath his clothing, Shen Li’s wrists were encircled by two thick leather bands. Each one glinted in the sunlight, a multitude of wire coils attached in varying ways and with varying distances to its surface. Mai’s gaze skimmed over them with interest, picking out the differences and detail. The band on his left was slightly more bulky, with only three wires fastened to its sides. One of them ended in an impressively intricate but small grappling hook, which lay pressed flat against his skin. Another hook was tucked under his right band, but it was almost swallowed up by the other wires that were also looped there. Small catches decorated the leather, some with springs for quick release, others whose function she could only guess at.
“I’ve never seen anything like them before,” Mai admitted again.
Shen Li chuckled. “I’d be surprised if you had,” he responded, folding his sleeves back down again until his hands lay innocuously on the saddle edge. “While the wires are a rare weapon in themselves, I took the liberty while I was at the Academy to make a few changes to the designs.”
He paused, and then smiled at the rolling plains before them, the sun bright against his pale features. “Actually, you’re the first person I’ve really shown them to.”
Mai blinked, half of her wondering at his words, the other noting that he seemed to smile for real much easier now that the capitol was far behind them. “Oh?” she asked, pulling back from him.
He didn’t seem to notice. “It’s just a common sense thing, really. The more people I show my wires to, the more people will know what tricks I have underneath my sleeves and the greater my disadvantage in a fight.”
“Why show them to me, then?” she asked suspiciously.
He shrugged, never looking at her as his gaze roved ahead. “Well, I trust that we’ll never be meeting on opposite sides of a battlefield. And I also trust that you won’t go around blurting out my weaknesses to everyone else.”
To blurt out your weaknesses, I need to know them first. “And how should I know whether I should trust you?” she demanded suddenly. “I barely know you. And by the sounds of it, Zuko barely knows you. Yet now you’re his Chief Bodyguard.”
For the first time since they’d started out, Shen Li’s carefree exterior cracked a little. He said nothing for a while, a faint crease on his forehead as he thought. Finally, he sighed. “A little bit of faith goes a long way, you know.”
Mai’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a game,” she said.
His gaze met her own. “Isn’t it?” he responded calmly.
There was something mesmerising, something unidentifiable and disturbing in his gaze. Mai swallowed dryly. Somehow, she was sure that he was suddenly talking about far more than just Fire Nation politics. His voice was opaque, almost a challenge, and she had to resist the urge to retreat even as she scrambled to figure out what was going on. “Not when it comes to Fire Lord,” she countered sharply. “Not when it comes to Zuko.”
For a moment, an indescribable look flickered across his face, and then it was gone. Shen Li turned back to the ground ahead of them, his eyes searching for their next landmark. When she finally thought that he’d forgotten to answer, he wet his lips and his mouth moved.
“It never is,” he said softly, but before she could challenge him, he suddenly stopped abruptly and held up his hand. Automatically, Mai brought her own basilisk to a grinding halt, her eyes cutting across air to meet the sight that had stopped them. And then they widened.
Before them lay the Western road, but the road itself was only visible in patches between the heavy tread of the scores of travellers on its back. They seemed to stretch out along the path like a scaled dragon, all trundling tiredly in the same eastern direction. Some moved with their livestock dragging wagons piled high with their belongings; others with bundles and packs; and still more clung to nothing but each other, the blank look on their faces speaking more than words ever could. Above them all, the sun glared down mercilessly, and Mai could hear the occasional squalls of babies and the hushes of mothers as the line of humanity kept moving.
She stared. “Where are they all going?” she demanded raspily.
Shen Li frowned and shaded his eyes for a better look. “To the capitol, I think. These must be the refugees the boys were talking about.”
Mai didn’t reply, her mind stretching at the misery before her. Outside, the remnants of her normal aloofness kept her calm, but on the inside it was another question. Even if Mai had not spent two weeks in prison, had not had the flame of hurt and feeling rekindled by Zuko’s betrayal, she would have been hard pressed not to feel anything at the sight of the refugees. Each step was a tragedy, each body a story of weariness, confusion and despair. Her pulse thrummed beneath her skin, and she didn’t notice when she gripped the front of her saddle tightly.
“What do we do?” she found herself asking.
He paused. Then... “What we set out to do,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “The sooner we found out who’s destroying these peoples’ villages and what they want, the quicker they will be able to return home.”
His words jerked her back into business. Mai set her shoulders and recomposed herself, annoyed that she had slipped. “Right,” she said flatly, and then drove her heels into the basilisk’s flanks. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
They travelled in silence for the next few hours, the time measured only by the beat of the basilisks’ claws and the gradual shadowing of the day. Soon the plain was behind them and they moved into thick forest, the dirt path below them well-trodden and damp. Mai shivered slightly in the growing cold, tasting the river rushing unseen to their left. As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, they slowed their pace to a graceful crawl, the embedded roots in the road too treacherous for any rush.
As if the decreased pace was a signal to begin talking again, Shen Li spoke. “Why did you come?” he asked, a genuine note of curiosity in his voice. For some reason, the words sounded as if they had been on the tip of his tongue all day. “You certainly didn’t have to.”
Mai brushed a lock of hair back with her gloved hands. “Anything to get out of the house,” she half-lied, leaving it at that.
But of course, she’d already learnt that he wasn’t so easily dissuaded. “You mean you’d rather risk my company?” he queried, a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.
Mai chose not to tread on treacherous ground, and her eagerness to avoid the question made her say more than she normally would. “Ever since Omashu, my father’s been trying to win his way back into the political circles,” she commented dryly. “I had to sit through so many boring dinners the last time I was home.” When I was still following Azula blindly. When I was still Zuko’s girlfriend. “I just thought I might pre-empt the issue this time around.”
Shen Li nodded sympathetically. “It sounds like a wise decision. I’ve had to sit through more than my share of business dinners myself.”
A vague memory swum into Mai’s mind at that, of a hawkish man with a royal bearing. “Your father’s the Minister for Security, right?”
He halted for a moment, and she glanced up quickly at the movement. Although it was dark, the shadows could not hide his suddenly stiffened posture. “Yes,” he said shortly, as if that were all he wanted to say on the matter.
Mai paused reflectively, her sharp eyes fastened on his form in the twilight. “Actually, I think I’ve met your father before,” she remarked, watching him for any more twitches. “He might have come over to dinner once or twice with my family.”
Shen Li shrugged, giving nothing away. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said neutrally, and then he turned to her with a wry smile on his face. Unbidden, the thought flashed into her mind that she missed the openness and warmth of his other smiles. “Both of our fathers are quire avid enthusiasts of the political game, aren’t they?”
She irritably shook the thought away. “That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Mai said dryly, and she was struck when he chuckled in agreement. The moonlight shafting through the trees gave his pale skin an almost unearthly glow, lighting up the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the youthful yet aged look in his eyes. She suddenly realised the mirror they made; two children who had grown up in households full of masks and expectations, and she wondered at how he still managed to smile.
She was about to comment on it when he suddenly halted abruptly, pulling the basilisk up short with a jerk. The beast hissed uneasily, whipping its tail as he frowned. “Wait, what’s that sound?”
Mai heard it an instant later, her senses jolting back from him to her surroundings. It was only a very soft rumble, like distant thunder or the scrape of rock against rock. But then recognition struck, and with a knowledge born from her time in the Earth Kingdom, Mai’s eyes uncharacteristically widened.
“Below us!” she shouted hoarsely, clutching the reins of her agitated mount. “We’ve got to get off the ground!”
He didn’t stop to ask her what she meant. Shen Li leapt to his feet, balancing with an eerie grace on the shifting saddle. His eyes flashed across each side, and then reached sky-high. “Grab my hand!”
She scrambled upwards. “What?” she demanded, but then her wrist was pulled around his neck and she felt the rest of her body follow only a second later. With a force that pressed the air from her lungs with a whoosh, he yanked her flush against his chest, his left hand extended to the air and his right curled firmly around her waist. And then the world became a blur as he jumped.
They seemed to fall in slow motion for a moment, their feet dangling through air as the now terrified basilisks uttered reptilian screams. And then Mai felt a rough jerk, and their bodies were flying up to meet the branches overhead. A cold rush of air brushed past her ears as they were pulled up, and as they drew closer to the trees, she saw a dull glint buried deeply in the bark of the trunk. Belatedly, she recognised it as the grappling hook she’d seen pressed against Shen Li’s wristband earlier, but then there was no more time to think. The enigma that was the former guard captain swung them safely onto a bough at least twenty feet from the ground, just as the earth finally split open with an awful crack and their mounts and supplies were pulled under.
As suddenly as it had come, the rumbling stopped. For a few crystal clear moments, the only sound Mai could hear was Shen Li’s harsh breathing. Then his muscles tensed beneath her, readying to move, and she realised simultaneously that firstly, his arm was still wrapped around her, and secondly, that they couldn’t have fit a breath of air in the space between them.
“Wait!” she hissed, tugging on his sleeve, and he halted. Quickly, she pulled herself free from him and clung to the branch with her slender hands, peering down to the ground below them. A few seconds passed as she scanned the seemingly innocuous dirt, and then a dreadful suspicion began to stir in her stomach. “It’s not over yet.”
He didn’t have time to respond. Just as she spoke, the earth burst upwards again, and five new shadows clambered into the air. Mai’s left hand automatically reached to her tunic, the other steadying her balance on the bough. Beside her, still crouched low on the branch, Shen Li shifted noiselessly in the bark and met her eyes.
Stay here. Stay silent. They commanded each other simultaneously, and despite the gravity of the situation, Mai couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the unexpected duality. Then their attention shifted back to the figures who had begun to circle the path around them, clearly searching for something. Mai’s heart thudded in her throat. How long would they look for them? They couldn’t stay in the trees forever. She began to work out the first of her senbon, thanking Agni for the rush of the nearby river. It drowned out any rustle she might have made as she withdrew first one, then two, and then three more needles from her clothing. Their weight felt comfortable in her fingers, and she concentrated on the sleekness of the steel against her skin. Even if they weren’t planning to use them, their presence was still reassuring.
Beside her, she could tell that Shen Li was having similar thoughts. Carefully, with one hand still firmly gripping the branch below him, he began to work out the grappling hook from the trunk. Mai stayed motionless, her eyes fastened on the people below. Only now did she realise how bare their hiding place was, how little the sparse leaves on the lower boughs did to shield them from any unfriendly gaze. Suddenly it didn’t seem so stupid to have brought out her knives, and she felt her heart rate decrease when Shen Li finally pulled the hook free from the bark. Now they were ready to fight. Although she couldn’t help but hope that they would be too stupid to...
“There they are! Up there, in the trees!”
... fat chance.
Mai sighed, and then leapt, plunging her dullest knife into the trunk to slow her fall. Rock thudded into the wood above her, but her graceful descent ended in a roll that brought her to safety one foot from its reach. She was up and running by the time the next volley had been summoned, her knives arcing through the air one by one to meet with hasty shields of stone.
There was a thud, and then Shen Li was beside her, his wires twisting out to lash at a figure to their left. But before they had even reached their target, a block of stone had smashed through their trajectory and into his path. Cursing, he stumbled backwards behind a tree. Mai joined him a few seconds later, her face pale with irritation.
“We have to keep behind cover,” she muttered.
He didn’t pause. “And lash out when they’re off balance,” he finished grimly. “Let’s go.”
They leapt out from opposite sides, two dancing targets in the moonlight as they dodged and weaved and waited. Mai let her daggers fly the instant she saw an opening, and they pinned a man’s body to a trunk. As he struggled to earthbend with his legs, she quickly spun around with her elbow and knocked him out. One down. Parallel to them, Shen Li moved underneath another’s guard and tangled his legs, bringing him crashing to the ground and into the line of the guard captain’s debilitating kick. Two. But then they were forced to retreat as two more stones whistled past their heads, too close for comfort and too indicative of their disadvantage in their present environment. Ducking backwards, they were slowly pushed past the protective layers of trees, until Mai took a step behind her and realised they were suddenly out in the open.
Her knuckles whitened. The clearing they had stepped into ended in a cliff-top only twelve feet behind them, the sheer rock cutting away at least twenty meters before ending in the white foam of the river. Briefly, she wondered whether that had been their adversaries’ plan all along. Her lips curled. No matter, that just meant they would have to end it quickly.
And so when the stone burst from the cover of the trees, she was ready. Dodging underneath its whistling blow, she leapt for the man’s throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shen Li crouched low, his fingers spread out just before he pounced on another. They clashed almost in time, like some violent waltz as fists met cuffs and knives slashed through material. With the lack of anything to pin the earthbender to, Mai dodged underneath his meaty fist and delivered a flying backhand of her own with her gloved fingers. He staggered back, leaving enough space for her to coil and then spring, her foot aimed unerringly for his head. There was a dull thud, and then he crumpled to the ground.
Mai straightened, just as the other earthbender flew past her and crashed into a tree. She followed his arc with impassive curiosity, and then let her gaze wander back along his trajectory to the smirking guard captain. And just because she could, she rolled her eyes.
For a blessed few moments, there was stillness. The two warriors tensed, their ears alert for the slightest sound. The rushing of the river below them was loud now, and it was hard to tell whether there was anyone else left. But when nothing else moved to attack them, they slowly relaxed.
“Well,” Shen Li panted. “That was exciting.”
Mai rolled her eyes again, readying herself to deliver a cutting reply. But then a shape rose up in the shadows behind Shen Li’s shoulder, and she froze. With a start, Mai remembered that there had been five figures, and she opened her mouth to shout a warning just as the ground bucked beneath her.
Hearing the earth groan, Shen Li spun around and lashed out with his right arm. The wire nearly shrieked as it split the air, wrapping around the earthbender’s hand and jerking him to the ground. But it was too late. When he turned back, he saw Mai stagger, saw the stone complete its shift and then toss her off the cliffside.
The guard captain’s strangled cry rung deaf in his own ears. Shen Li raced to the side just in time to watch Mai fall, the air twisting her slim body towards the violently rushing river. The last thing he saw were her wide, amber eyes...
And then she was gone.
