Written in Ashes

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The plot is the property of the authors. The authors are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Authors' Note: This story takes place in an alternate universe, breaking off from canon at The Avatar and the Firelord (Book 3, Chapter 6), and opens five years after those events. Spoilers up to that point are prevalent. The changes in the timeline all come from one specific new event, which shall become clear shortly. A variety of OCs are involved in this story.

Chapter 1: Liàng

"Liàng, can't we rest?" asked a slender girl of about thirteen. "I'm tired."

A tall young man with black hair smiled down at her. "No, Mi-Cha, we can't. These woods are dangerous."

The two were residents of Ba Sing Se, merchants and craftsmen both. Mi-Cha was technically Liàng's apprentice, though she couldn't seem to handle much of the crafting beyond shaping some of the decorations on the jewelry Liàng made. However, the both of them together had become quite wealthy in the last four years.

That wealth, unfortunately, made them a nice target in woods such as these, full of bandits. A small group of said petty raiders was setting up an ambush a little ways down the road, baiting the trap with a small boy, the child of one of their band. He settled himself on the side of the road, and, just before the jeweler and his apprentice rounded a bend in the road, turned on the tears.

Mi-Cha noticed the boy, and let out a startled cry of dismay. "Oh…!" She began to go to him, only to be held back. "Liàng, what—!"

"We don't have time to stop, little one," he said quietly. "Keep walking. Quickly." It was cold, he knew, but he knew the risks he took when they traveled.

"P-please..." the boy said. "I-I've lost my mom, I can't find her, please..."

"Liàng, can't we—"

"No, we cannot, we— Mi-Cha!"

The teenager had squirmed free and knelt in front of the boy. "Don't worry, it'll be all right," she said, smiling at him.

And then a dozen or so lightly armed bandits spilled out of the surrounding tree line. The boy stopped crying instantly.

In the time it took Mi-Cha to gasp, Liàng had pulled her away and put an arm around her shoulders. "Little idiot," he said affectionately, looking at the surrounding enemies and doing some quick mental calculations. …I don't think I can take them all…

Fortunately, he didn't have to. A quiet, older male voice from somewhere beyond the bandits said, "Fourteen against two, now, is that really fair?"

Liàng's hold tightened. "Who—?"

Some of the bandits, predictably, turned to face this new threat--which, upon seeing him, as the two travelers now could, through the crowd, wasn't very threatening: an older man, in his sixties, short, compact, a little rough around the edges, and leaning on a staff.

"This ain't your concern, old man," the bandits' leader said, rolling his eyes and lowering his weapon. "Move along."

Golden eyes narrowed as Liàng took in the old man, and his hands slipped around his young apprentice's waist. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "Get ready to hold on tight."

"I think that such a situation as this is the business of any good citizen," the old man said, his tone markedly less genial.

The bandit leader scoffed. "One last chance to get away, old man."

"Liàng, what is—?"

"Things are about to get very, very hot."

"Well, I suppose fair play isn't often to be found in this world," the old man said, sighing theatrically.

"I warned you, old man," the bandit said, then rushed him.

Remarkably spry for a man of his age and stature, the stranger neatly sidestepped the bandit's charge and tripped him. "That really was rather clumsy of you, charging headlong like that. You have no idea whether a man carrying a staff could, for instance, do something like this." A few quick passes with his staff, and the two closest bandits were also on the ground, one with a probably shattered kneecap, and the other with a lump on his head that surely had him seeing stars.

As the old man dispatched the first three men, Liàng gathered all his strength and heaved his young partner up into the trees, where the girl caught hold of a branch and held on for dear life. The merchant turned just in time to meet another bandit's headlong rush; he sidestepped and held one of his arms straight out, catching the bandit across the chest and causing the woman's legs to fly out from under her. She landed on her back with a yelp as Liàng strode into a fifth bandit's attack; he blocked the punch, spun on one leg, and delivered a punishing side kick into the man's ribs.

The old man made even quicker work of the next two bandits, slamming the end of his staff into one's stomach and breaking the other's ankle. The child--one of the fourteen--had long since fled the scene, and one of the women was following.

Liàng casually grabbed two who tried to double-team him by the fronts of their shirts and dragged them together, bashing their heads together. When they stayed upright after he released them, he grabbed them by the hair and did it again. This time they dropped. He heard a yell and looked back just in time to see the twelfth bandit lunge for him with a sword. The merchant was barely able to avoid the blow, and delivered a hefty thump to the back of the man's head that dropped him like a rock.

The other two bandits did the smart thing and followed their companions and disappeared into the trees.

"Are you all right?" the old man asked, adjusting his hat and walking over to the young jeweler.

"Yeah, fine." He glanced up into the trees. "All right, Mi-Cha!" He held out his arms, and the girl plunged into them. Liàng hissed as a sharp pain tore through his side — apparently that miss had, in fact, been a hit.

"You're bleeding," the old man said. He dug in his pack, and produced a roll of bandages. "Here, let me help you."

Carefully, Liàng set Mi-Cha on her feet. "Thank you," he said quietly as the teenager fussed over him. "Mi-Cha, shush! It's just a flesh wound, not the end of the world."

"But it's my fault!"

The old man smiled benignly at them. "We probably should not stay here, if their band is larger, those who ran may have gone for reinforcements."

The young merchant made a face. "That's the last thing I want. The first thing I want is to get out of this forest."

"Follow me, then?"

Liàng hesitated, then bowed (and winced). "We will. And thank you." The glance he shot at his partner convinced the girl to hold her tongue.

The old man bowed back, and led them out of the forest and to a small farmhouse. He tapped on the door, exchanged a few words with the woman who answered, then led the jeweler and his apprentice inside.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Liàng said politely to the woman and the old man. "I am Liàng, and this is Mi-Cha, my apprentice."

The woman said nothing, but the man smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet you both. You can call me Mushi. My friend prefers not to give her name to strangers."

The merchant smiled innocently. "Of course, Mushi. Thank you for your aid, earlier."

"You are quite welcome, Liàng." He shook his head sadly. "Desperate men and women who employ such tactics are truly to be pitied."

The merchant shrugged as Mi-Cha kicked her feet. "I knew the risks when I went traveling. Next time I'll leave the girl home."

"But Liàng—"

"Not now."

Mushi nodded. "You can stay the night here, if you like. My friend has space for those who would do better not to be on the road at night."

"That's very kind of you," Liàng said after a moment. "But we must be home by tomorrow."

The older man nodded. "Very well, then. Whatever you think is best."

The merchant reached out and ruffled his apprentice's hair. "She and I have some orders we need to have filled as soon as possible."

"The demands of trade must be met," Mushi said, not looking at the merchant. "And some trades require more time and...discretion than others."

Golden eyes narrowed very slightly. "How true that is, sir." By the time Mi-Cha was looking at him, his expression was normal once more.

"So, Liang. What sort of work do you and your apprentice do?" the old man asked after a moment of somewhat awkward silence.

"We make jewelry," he replied easily. "Mi-Cha is quite talented."

"I see," the other said, with casual interest. "And you take commissions? My grandniece has her birthday coming up, you see, and I thought I would get her something special."

One coal black brow arched. "Yes, we do. What are you interested in?"

"Perhaps a bracelet. She isn't very fond of rings. Copper, perhaps, shaped as an animal. Not a serpent, she does not care for reptiles. Perhaps a bear would please her more."

"An armadillo-bear?" Liàng asked without batting an eye.

"I don't think so. Just a bear."

Liàng folded his hands together. "I think we can do that. Would you like jeweled eyes, or plain metal?"

The old man carefully regarded the ceiling. "No jewels. It isn't like my grandniece will be calling at court."

"Ah, of course. My mistake."

Mushi turned now to Liang. "You were told to expect someone?" he asked, dropping the tone of benign interest upon hearing the jeweler's response.

"Yes. But not whom. Mi-Cha, if you will?"

"I never get to hear the interesting stuff," the teenager complained as she walked out of the room.

The old man nodded, and lowered his voice. "Our sources have confirmed it. The Earth King is dead."

"Damn!" Liàng raked a hand through his hair. "Do they know how?"

Mushi shook his head. "Officially, he was ill. There is a high probability he was poisoned, though, of course, we cannot prove it."

"Of course." The jewelry-smith rested his chin on one of his hands. "There wouldn't be evidence, and I have heard of plants that kill slowly enough that the symptoms are similar to an illness."

The old man nodded. "There are several, and he was at nearly two weeks in dying, according to our highest-placed source."

A low whistle from Liàng. "Wow. The poor man."

Mushi nodded again. "This, of course, limits our options severely. Particularly since he has largely fallen out of contact this last year. There are rumors that he has been killed as well." It was clear the old man doubted the veracity of these particular rumors, but he didn't say anything.

"If he had, everyone would know. He's considered public face. It is assumed that if he were actually dead, morale would fall tremendously and the people would lose hope."

"Besides, our source in the palace has heard nothing, and is right in the Firelady's inner circle. The source is in a definite position to know, even if, for some reason, she is waiting to release the information."

"Right." Liàng sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "What of the child?"

"She'll be a year old in a week. She now rules the Earth Kingdom, with her mother as regent, of course."

"Of course." The smith idly drew a pattern on the table with one finger. "Will they return to Ba Sing Se?"

"As far as our source knew two days ago, yes."

"Damn! I'll have to step twice as carefully."

The old man nodded. "Things are getting much more dangerous for us all. We lost even the sporadic contact we had with the North Pole a week ago."

Liàng glanced through the door where his apprentice had vanished, but said nothing. The worry was evident on his face, however.

"Is there anything you can tell me?" the old man asked, his own messages now completely relayed.

"Our contact in the South Pole was killed three weeks ago," Liàng reported. "Blizzard."

Mushi swore under his breath. "Worse and worse."

"On the other hand, the merchant brat is making more and more contacts within various bandit groups. Just in case. But there's rumors of a new, independent one."

"Oh? What do these rumors tell?"

"They tell of a man who does not speak, who hides his identity behind a mask. He has only one follower, a woman. They've taken to calling him the Red Spirit, for the color of the mask."

The old man frowned. "And what has he done? Why are people paying attention to him?"

"He is an enigma. He takes only enough for himself and the woman, and communicates by writing on the ground." Liàng shrugged. "You know how people can be when a mystery pops up."

Mushi nodded. "We should look into this Red Spirit," he murmured.

Liàng rose to his feet. "Mi-Cha and I should be going."

Mushi nodded, and rose as well. "You will not make it to the city before the gates close. Do you have someplace to stay between here and there?"

He nodded. "A friend of Mi-Cha's father."

The old man bowed. "Then I wish you a safe journey."

"And I you, Mushi." The smith raised his voice. "Mi-Cha! We need to go!"

"General?" the woman said, returning. "How long will you be staying?"

The old man fell back, conferring with his hostess.

A sulking Mi-Cha exited the room she'd walked into and, making their final farewells to their hostess, the two continued on their way.