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The Alchemy of Fire - Arc I by Shadowhawke

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Chapter 21: In the Sand

Draw a line you thought so strong,
Watch it vanish in the sand,
Beliefs you’ve clutched to, oh so long,
Naught but shadows in your hand.


Colours.

They were the first things she saw - muddy browns, wet blues, and tender greens. She clutched at them and felt them slip through her fingers, barely registering that she was still at the riverbank and still alive. Dimly, at the corner of her mind, Katara was aware of the sound of a struggle, of a male voice wheezing and a female hissing. Instinctively, she tried to scramble up, to help. But the second she rose, her muscles and veins pulled beneath her, and then she was aware of nothing.

8 8 8

The second time Katara awoke, she could feel black scales shifting beneath her. The cool breath of early morning kissed her skin as she slowly clawed her way back to the land of the living. She regretted it almost instantly when a wave of dizziness swept over her.

Lightheaded, Katara felt a groan pass through her lips. There were a few seconds of delay, and then the beast beneath her slowed. She lay against it, lifeless, trying to blink back the spots of light that filtered through her vision. When a cold and impersonal hand brushed briefly against her cheek, she didn’t even have the balance to jerk away.

“Lady Katara,” she thought she vaguely recognised the voice, but she wasn’t sure. “Lady Katara, are you all right?”

Bile boiled up in her throat. No. I am not all right. But she didn’t even have the strength to retch. Instead, Katara miserably clung onto the scales beneath her, happy that at least they weren’t moving anymore. It was only the movement inside her head now that she had to deal with - the one that felt like waves of nausea were chasing each other across her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed against the dizziness, trying to bring everything under control.

The sound of a voice stirred over her again, and she realised that this one was different. Memorable.  The brief image of knives and needles flashed into her head, but she was so busy trying not to throw up that she couldn’t place it.

“She’s alive. She’ll be fine.”

Irately, the part of her that wasn’t concentrating on dealing with the nausea reared. How did she know that it was fine? Had she just suffered severe blood loss? Had she just passed out from waterbending after said blood loss? To be honest, if it hadn’t been for the fact that nausea and ice seemed to be seeping into every known inch of her, Katara would have doubted that she was still alive.

As it was, the afterlife couldn’t be so sickening. She’d gotten what she thought was a glimpse of it in her Spirit World journey, after all, and then it had seemed quite comfortable. So Katara grimly asserted to her confused and searching mind that she was indeed alive, and clearly with at least two people and a beast who hadn’t killed her yet.

Of course, just as she thought that, the animal cried out and reared beneath her. Katara cried out too as the world merged into millions and each dimension shattered onto her reeling head. She had just enough time to register two pairs of blurred golden eyes in front of her before her body collapsed and she blacked out again.
8 8 8

The third time, Katara thought wearily, really was the charm. She awoke slowly, relishing the calm in her own mind. Her skin still felt clammy and cold, but that was infinitely more bearable than the rushing nausea that she’d suffered before. A thin woolen blanket was pressed against her, and she felt sunlight warming it. She was so tired she could stay here forever...

“So. You’re awake.”

Or not.

The quiet, emotionless voice was enough to bring everything flooding back. Suddenly, the sea of weariness and weakness she was drifting in became something to fight, something to conquer. Katara began to struggle upwards, battling the apathy in her bones with such fervour that she was halfway to rising before cool hands pushed her firmly back down again.

“Are you insane?” the tone was cutting now, and Katara fuzzily thought she could detect hints of frustration and annoyance as well. Her head was clearing, but it was still a matter of process. “Lie down. You’re still weak.”

Katara’s eyes snapped open. “What did you just say?”

The noblewoman’s face was a blur in front of her for a second, and then she managed some focus and looked into two golden eyes. They were cold, and oddly damaged.

“You’re. Still. Weak.” Mai enunciated slowly. “And by the sounds of it, still slow as well. Get it into your head, waterbender. I’ve orders not to let you move for the next few hours.”

Katara was so angry that she didn’t even register the simmering fury still vocal in the other girl’s tone, nor the fact that it wasn’t even directed at her. “I’m not weak,” she snapped, pushing herself up to lean on her elbows. “And I don’t need you to babysit me!”

Something strange contorted in Mai’s face. “Is that so?” she asked dangerously. “Well then, next time you do something so stupid as to just surge into battle like that and not even check the cover for archers, you carry yourself for over a mile running away!”

Katara blinked. The words stirred up vague memories in her daze; of water, of fire, and of pain. Suddenly, it was as if the fire inside her had been banked. “You... did that for me?”

The other girl moved to retort, and then froze. With surprise, Katara realised she could read her, read the truth in the other girl’s normally stoic face. There was no excuse this time, even if she tried. It hadn’t been for Zuko. It hadn’t even been for Sokka. It had been for her.

“Thank you,” she said, her own voice heartfelt and sure. “For fighting. For not leaving me behind.”

For a moment, it was almost comical the way Mai’s eyes widened. And then the second passed and Katara was left facing an even stonier look than before. She blinked again. What had just happened? 

Before she could think of any answers, Mai got to her feet stiffly and walked away. With a bit of effort, Katara tilted her head to follow her. The other girl stopped at a small fire not three meters away, kneeling down to remove something above it. Katara’s range of vision widened, and she recognised with a start that they were back at her camping place, where she’d made her home and her base for the last few days.

Only... there were changes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a black lizard-beast thing harnessed to a tree, its tail swinging peacefully as it rested in the grass. A basilisk, the name sprung to her mind, and she remembered when the girl standing by the fire had been one of the trio hunting them down on the creatures.

The same girl who had just carried her over a mile away from certain death. How people changed.

Katara was still inwardly shaking her head in wonder of it all when Mai returned. This time, she was holding a stick in each hand, a lump of something skewered onto them. It was Katara’s turn to be surprised.

“Here,” the Fire Nation girl said roughly, handing one to her. “Eat. Iron and protein, so I’m told.”

Katara looked at her strangely, and then took the stick gingerly in her hand. The meat, or whatever it was, was nearly unrecognisable. The outside was black and charred, and she had a sneaking suspicion that deep inside the meat was still raw. A surge of revulsion swept through her, tempered just as quickly by the realisation that she was ravenous. She hadn’t eaten properly for a while. Since Mai had arrived, broken, carried and healed by the river, she hadn’t had time to go down to one of the villages in her normal garb to buy food. The small supply of bread and cheese had quickly vanished after that, split between two mouths as it were. That, and the fact that she had lost a lot of blood made the even the burnt, raw meat seem oddly appealing...

Katara looked at it again. Closer this time. And decided that it didn’t matter how hungry she was.

“What were these?” she asked in disbelief, shaking the stick a little. “And where did you get them? Did you go hunting while I was unconscious or something?”

Mai flushed as she scowled. “They were two rabbit-mice,” she said stiffly. “And I don’t care if you don’t like them. I have orders that you’re to eat.”

This time, Katara was switched on enough to catch the sarcasm in the other girl’s voice, and she sat up slowly. “Wait, I think I remember. I... when I was on the basilisk. There were two of you. A guy.”

Mai’s lips tightened. Katara moved forwards cautiously, aware she was treading on dangerous ground. “Was he the one who hunted? I mean, I know you were running out of needles...”

Mai’s fingers instinctively went up to brush her chest, and the four senbon that were nestled there. He’d given them back to her in a manner as cold as a wintry sea. She hadn’t asked why he’d kept them. But she’d noticed that he’d stored them in his tunic above his heart. Her breath came out peculiarly in a sigh. “Shen Li.”

Katara blinked. “He was here?” she tilted her head to look around the campsite again. “Where is he?”

Something infinitesimally small in Mai hardened. “He went back to the capitol,” she said, and then fought the urge to squirm when the waterbender’s blue eyes landed back on her in question. “Look, just get started, will you? I’ll explain what’s going on while you eat.”

Katara’s eyebrows arched elegantly, and then she looked again at the stick in her hand. The black matter wrapped around it hung heavy off the wood, even though the outside was already flaking from the fire. She tested its weight in her hand. There had to be enough meat there for some salvaging, she decided. Perhaps even a simple scraping and then a re-cooking. Perhaps boiled...

“No. You explain what’s going on while I fix this up for both of us,” she said determinedly, and then began to rise.

Mai pushed her down again. “Are you insane? I told you to rest! You lost a lot of blood. I don’t even know how you managed to heal yourself after that.”

Katara looked at her questioningly, and the noblewoman recoiled slightly as if she’d let something slip. “I mean... look. You’re no use to me weak.”

A few minutes ago, Katara would have blown up at her again, just like she had when she’d awoken. But now, her head was clearing, and so were her eyes. And the slight panic in the other’s gaze told her everything.

If Katara had been upright, she would have folded her arms. “Come off it.” She raised her eyebrow and nodded at the meat Mai held in her own hand. “You really expect me to believe you’re going to eat that?”

The noblewoman’s face turned blank, as smooth as a mirror as she debated internally. But when it was over, she softened.

“All right,” she relented, and handed her meat over. “I’ll go get the map.”

8 8 8

The bard that Ty Lee had selected was birdlike, her eyes sharp and intelligent as she peered over her glasses at him. It hadn’t taken Zuko long to decide that he liked her. All she’d had to do was hand him the work she’d done already, and in his eyes she’d immediately proven herself. He only wished his Ministers and officials were half as efficient.

“So you already have the truth verifications?” he asked.

She nodded. “My assistants are working on them. So far, we have at least twenty soldiers who’ll swear on the light of Agni that your version of events is the correct one. And I think there’ll be more.”

Something tense inside Zuko relaxed. “Good work.” he said, and was about to ask her about how the casting was going when there was a knock on the door.

The question died on his lips. “Come in!” he called instead, and the tenseness returned with a vengeance when he saw that it was a messenger.

“Fire Lord Zuko? The Ministers are waiting for you. The first of the refugees have arrived, and one of them has been sent up to debrief.”

Zuko was out of his chair before the man finished “Tell them I’m coming soon.”

The man nodded, left, and soon Zuko was alone in his study when the bard departed too. Internally, his mind was working on overdrive even as he hastily pulled on his ceremonial robes. The first of the refugees have arrived. Before Shen Li and Mai, and while the information might turn out to be a poor substitute, at least it might be something.

He was lightly panting when he reached the throne room, sweeping past his Ministers and into his chair with barely a inclination of his head as he sat. None of them seemed to notice much. The Minister for Culture, Education and Citizenship was surreptitiously filing his nails, while the Minister for Innovation, Science, Research and Transport was lightly dozing. Only the Minister for War (Defense, Zuko reminded himself) and the Minister for Security were sitting to attention, and Zuko’s eyes narrowed. Curious.

He hadn’t been seated for a minute when the guard at the throne room entrance stirred. “Goodman Pauzon of the first village in Weiji Province!”

For such a seemingly grand title, the farmer who stepped in was old and grey, his body stooped with age and weariness. He had clearly been travelling for hours, and his long beard looked as tangled and tired as him. Zuko instantly rose from his throne.

“Xiu! Please get Goodman Pauzon a seat. And some water,” he turned to the farmer and bowed his head briefly as the servant scurried away to attend to his orders. “My apologies, Goodman Pauzon. I was not told that you had not rested.”

The old man raised one bushy grey eyebrow, and Zuko noticed for the first time that there was a hard, searching expression in the man’s gaze that was only softened by a tinge of surprise. “Thank you, my Lord,” he said guardedly, settling down into the chair when it was brought. “It’s been a long journey.”

“I can imagine,” Zuko nodded sympathetically, noting the tears in the farmer’s clothing, the dirt that stooped his back. When the goblet of water arrived, the old man drank it like he’d been parched for years. Zuko waited patiently until he seemed done and a trifle more rested.

“So, Goodman Pauzon. I was told you had a report for us?”

Instantly, he was reminded of the suspicion and searching in the refugee’s eyes as they met gazes once more. “Aye, my Lord,” he said, his eyes keen as if he were searching for any tremor, any lie. “I’ve an interesting story to tell.”

Across the hall, General Sheng twitched, and Zuko noted it down almost automatically. His Minister for Security was in a strange mood today, he decided. The normally controlled man seemed oddly agitated, and he couldn’t help but wonder... “Well spit it out, man,” Sheng said impatiently. “We haven’t got all day.”

Pauzon’s eyes shifted briefly to the Minister’s, and then back to Zuko’s. And when he opened his mouth again, he told them of burnt wood floating down the river and men dressed in Fire Nation uniforms. He told them of smoke and shouting, of swords and fire. He told them of children crying and of women weeping, his eyes never leaving the Fire Lord’s face as he watched for a reaction. And when he told them of mist and the Painted Lady, the room began to murmur.

“Fire Lord Zuko!” Sheng seemed to be restraining himself from leaping to his feet. “Do you truly believe this nonsense?!”

Pauzon’s face hardened. “You tell me it’s nonsense, General, when you ride out to my village and see its burnt remains.”

Sheng seemed about to reply when Hang cut him off. “Now, now, calm down gentlemen,” he drawled lazily. “We’re not accusing anyone of lying.” His eyes drifted to Pauzon’s. “But you yourself admitted that your journey has been long. Perhaps along the way, your weariness has sharpened memory into embellishment?”

Before Zuko could stop it from going any further, voices were everywhere. General Jiang was arguing with Sheng, while the Minister for Health and Human Services had teamed up with Pauzon to round on Hang. The Minister for Agriculture and Environment was trying to quieten the rest of his fellows down, who seemed to be arguing amidst themselves for quiet. Only Hui remained serene, and when his voice rose, all the Ministers stilled before Zuko could even utter a sound.

“Everyone! Please, if there is any nonsense it is in the way we’re acting.”

Zuko cleared his throat before anyone else could jump in. “The Chief Advisor is correct,” he said firmly. “Return to your seats, we will hear the rest of this story.”

Sheng stirred. “Fire Lord, how can you expect us to believe this? Good Fire Nation soldiers attacking their own people is already a stretch. But an old folktale coming to life and saving these people? Impossible!”

“Sheng,” Hui beat Zuko to the chase yet again, and the General quieted reluctantly. “There are many things in this world that we thought were impossible, but which turned out to be true. The rediscovery of the Avatar, for example.”

Zuko began to relax again when his Chief Advisor continued. “However, it is also difficult to believe that the legend of the Painted Lady has indeed resurfaced. And of course, if that is part of your tale, must we doubt the other, more pertinent parts as well?” Hui turned to face the farmer. “Please, Goodman Pauzon. If you could at least further explain?”

Zuko watched with interest as the old man narrowed his eyes. There was surprise in his expression - surprise mixed with resentment. Clearly, he believed what he was saying, even if no one else did. The farmer seemed to consider something, and then he raised his head. “Fire Lord? If I could speak to you alone?”

It was Zuko’s turn to be surprised, and he certainly wasn’t the only one. There was a brief murmur in the hall as Zuko considered how to respond, his eyes surreptitiously surveying his Ministers’ reactions as he did so. Most of them seemed concerned, but were content to be filled in later. His gaze slid right, to some of the people who were most important and some of who he trusted least. General Hang seemed to be carelessly examining the sleeve of his robes, but a faint sheen of sweat shone against his skin in the light of the fire. General Sheng was muttering about unprecedented ridiculousness. Chief Advisor Hui sat above it all, the perfect picture of serenity.

Zuko made his decision. “Very well,” he said simply.

There were the sounds of scraping chairs, muttered questions and rustling cloth, and then one voice rose to cut through them all. “Fire Lord Zuko. I am the Minister for Security! How do you expect me to do my job when I am not privy to important information?”

Zuko’s eyes narrowed in dislike. “I assure you, General Sheng, that if the information is important enough I will share it with you. But for now, my order stands. Everybody, leave.”

For a moment, Sheng looked as if he might protest. But then Hui glided over to him, taking him by the elbow. There was a brief moment where the two men’s gazes met, and then Sheng shook off the Chief Advisor’s grip with a scowl and stalked out the door.

Hui turned back to the throne with a shrug, and Zuko nodded gratefully to him. He’d have to repay him sometime for the loyalty that he was growing more and more sure of. He watched as the old man calmly shepherded the rest of the Ministers and servants outside, and then turned back to Pauzon with curiosity.

“Well, we’re alone now,” he commented unnecessarily. “What did you want to discuss?”

The old farmer surveyed him keenly for a moment, but he said nothing. Zuko felt strangely as if those eyes were reaching into his very soul. And then the spell was broken as Pauzon moved, as his knuckled, age-spotted hand reached under his beard. Instantly, Zuko tensed, remembering his assassinations training.

Pauzon’s fingers parted to reveal a simple, carved talisman of the Painted Lady. Zuko instantly relaxed, chiding himself for his paranoia. The old man met his gaze again.

“You’re different from what I expected, Fire Lord,” Pauzon said abruptly. “So maybe you’ll be able to tell me something.”

Zuko blinked. That certainly hadn’t been what he’d been expecting, and something in the man’s voice made his knuckles whiten on the grip of his throne. “What?”

The old farmer smiled grimly. “You know any water spirits with blue eyes?”

8 8 8

The stew was delicious, and a miracle given what it had started out as. But Katara barely even tasted it as she frowned over the map Shen Li had procured.

“It doesn’t seem too far away,” she said, half-uncertainly as she traced the dotted line.

“I don’t think it is,” Mai answered decisively. “An hour’s ride. That’s all it should take.”

Katara’s lips firmed. “Well then, I guess we should get started.”

It was Mai’s turn to blink. “What? Now?”

Katara nodded, her face set in determination. “Yes, now.”

Mai raised her eyes incredulously to trace the other’s. The waterbender was still pale from blood loss, her skin a dull grey beneath her normal tan. She looked exhausted. Neither Mai nor Shen Li had thought to change her besides removing her hat and veil for comfort, and so her Painted Lady outfit hung off her raggedly, still caked in sweat and blood.

Mai was sure she didn’t look too much better. “But why? We need to rest. You need to rest. You shouldn’t even be moving.”

Katara shook her head. Even though she hadn’t really wanted to eat, the stew sat warming in her now, giving her new life and energy to fuel her determination. The last battle had shaken her. This time, the soldiers had obviously been prepared, and they hadn’t even fallen for her mist and spirit-like tricks. Now that she thought about it, that meant that there was no longer any use playing the saving game. It was better to strike directly to the source. Now that she knew there was a source.

Katara felt the confidence and the empowerment that the Spirit World journey had gifted her rise up again as she made her choice. “No. I’ve wasted too long just whittling at the edges. Every day, they attack more and more villages, and this time they’re ready for me. I say we save your scouts and the rest of your people as soon as possible instead.”

The other girl’s face remained carefully neutral. “You’re insane.” She gestured to the map. “If this really is their base, their stronghold, we won’t be able to make a dent in it before we’re killed.”

Katara recoiled. “I’m not suggesting an all out attack!”

“What are you suggesting then?” Mai demanded, and watched the other girl wilt a little before straightening again.

“Well, perhaps not a physical strike. But what about an intellectual one? You said that you and Shen Li came here to find the scouts as well as get information on this secret army.” She was so caught up in her reasoning that she didn’t notice the second’s flicker of indecipherable emotion across Mai’s face at the guard captain’s name. “Maybe if we infiltrate the base, we can free your scouts and get Zuko the information at the same time!”

Infiltration. Mai focused on the word as she tried to push away the conflicting feelings inside of her.    This was infuriating. The mere mention of him, and she wasn’t sure whether to rage or bow her head in regret. Suddenly, she wanted to get going as eagerly as her companion. Because if she had the mission to focus on, she wouldn’t have to think...

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, standing up abruptly. “Okay.”

She turned around too swiftly to see the surprise on the waterbender’s face. Katara had been expecting an argument. When none came, she remained seated in shock for a moment before pushing herself up to follow after.

There wasn’t much for them to get ready. Katara traded her Painted Lady outfit for her black ninja one, checked over her miraculously healed shoulder again, and then got her water flask ready. Mai simply redid her hair and then untied their mount from the tree and swung herself up into the saddle. The basilisk whickered beneath her a second later, and the noblewoman turned her head.

Katara was leaning against the animal, obviously both unsure of how to get up and still too drained to do herself. Mai frowned. The waterbender was pale - paler than she’d ever seen her, and she hesitated for a second.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?”

Katara didn’t even stop to question the insinuation of care in her companion’s tone. Her shoulders straightened, her mouth hardened, and her eyes set. “I’ll rest on the way there,” she said crisply, extending her arm for a hand up. Without thinking, Mai instinctively reached out in turn and they clasped fingers, pale skin against mocha.

For a moment, blue gazed into gold and each reaffirmed their situation. Two girls, two nations, two opposites, and two debts repaid. And then Katara smiled.

“Let’s do this.”








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