Setting: Arabian Desert
Warnings: Yaoi. Don't like? Don't read.
Pairings: Zuko x Aang
Summary:
Deep into the heart of the Arabian desert, is a sacred circle protected by strong, spirit magic. Here is where, after every 100 years, the spirit dervishes gather to perform their whirling dance and pay a tribute to the Gods, in return, drawing knowledge from the universe. Miles and miles away, a peasant boy living under his master's care, seeks answers concerning his ability to bend all four elements. Accompanied by an unwilling bodyguard and two runaway slaves, he embarks on a journey into the heart of the desert to get answers. But pursued relentlessly by deadly assassins and bounty-hunters will he ever make it? Or will enemies and emotions stand in his way?
Author's Note:
[It's long, you have been warned :P]
Well, since almost all of this story revolves around aspects of Arabian culture, maybe there are some things you aren't familiar with. So, feel free to ask me if you don't get something. I own only, like, one-fifth of the actual plot. The general idea is gathered from a classic Middle-Eastern film Bab Aziz while the rest belongs to the creators of Avatar: TLA. The little part about circles is taken from Wicca and witchcraft in general. Also, I will be bending a bit of the concept of dervishes to fit my story.
For those of you who don't know what a dervish is, here's a, hopefully, clear definition.
A Dervish or Darvesh is someone following a Sufi Muslim ascetic path and are known for their extreme poverty and austerity. They're pretty similar to mendicant friars in Christianity and Hindu/Buddhist/Jain sadhus.
-Courtesy of Wikipedia
For those of you who don't know what the word 'Sufi' [pronounced: Soofey] means.
Sufism is, according to its adherents, the inner, mystical dimension of Islam. A practitioner of this tradition is generally known as a Sufi, though some adherents of the tradition reserve this term only for those practitioners who have attained the goals of the Sufi tradition. Another name used for the Sufi seeker is Dervish.
Classical Sufi scholars have defined Sufism as "a science whose objective is the reparation of the heart and turning it away from all else but God. while in the words of renowned Darqawi Sufi teacher Ahmad Ibn Ajiba "a science through which one can know how to travel into the presence of the divine, purify one's inner self from filth, and beautify it with a variety of praiseworthy traits.
-Again, Courtesy of Wikipedia
Anyways, sorry for the length of this note but I have to add one more thing.
The Mawlawi Order, are a Sufi order founded in Konya (in present-day Turkey) by the followers of Jalal-ud-Din Muhammad Balkhi Rumi, a 13th century Persian poet and Islamic jurist. They are also known as the Whirling Dervishes due to their famous practice of whirling as a form of Zikr (remembrance of God).
However, since many of the aspects of this story and at length, Arabia, are closely related to Islam, it is my sincerest wish that you, as a reader, do not automatically associate Islam with terrorism. I do not expect you to just change your views or anything but I would appreciate that while you read this, you read it with tolerance and merely as a story. Do not drag in any politics and kindly do not assume things about a religion you know nothing about.
So, flamers of any sort can just get lost.
Okay, whew, got that out of my system? Now, let's start on a lighter note. ENJOY! ^_^
ON THE SANDS OF TIME
Part I
An Unexpected Vistor
Aang quietly trudged home from school, gravel crunching underfoot with each step and sweat springing onto his forehead with each passing second. However, he still thanked the spirits for, compared with the weather for the rest of the year, that day's was rather pleasant. Stifling a yawn, he turned into an alley, one hand reaching up to skim the sun-baked rock of the house standing beside him while the other fiddled with the small hat sitting atop his head.
There were several minutes of walking, and his only companions were the sounds of his own breathing and the growing weight of the satchel on his back.
Then, he turned into another alley and came to a halt beside a wall. Reaching back, he pulled the coarsely woven satchel off his back and flung it across the wall. Before it had even hit the ground on the other side, a gust of wind swept through the alley and Aang was pushed off his feet. With perfect aim, he landed right underneath the sack and was about to catch it when he collided head-on with someone.
"OW!" The person yelled as they both stumbled backwards; Aang managing to keep himself upright while the other fell. Hard.
Aang stooped down to pick up the sack and then carefully studied the boy he had crashed into. In their compact little village, almost everyone knew each other. If not by name, then face at least and he was positive that he had not seen this boy before.
His tan skin was sheeny with sweat and he was panting, obviously not used to the dry, scorching air. The boy's bright blue eyes glared right back at him and Aang wondered just where he had come from since he looked so...different.
"Are you from around here?" Aang asked in slight puzzlement.
But before the boy could answer his question, a loud 'SOKKA' sounded from somewhere nearby and Aang peeked behind his shoulder to see a girl approaching them.
"A sorry would have been appreciated." Sokka said rather tersely as he brushed his clothes off and the girl came to a halt beside them.
"I thought the old man told you to keep your face covered or else the skin would burn." The girl said reproachfully, her own voice coming out muffled from behind a cloth wrapped around her face.
"Yeah, yeah." The boy grumbled, as he picked up a strip of cloth that had drifted to the ground during their fall.
"Well, hurry up." She said but then noticing a movement out of her eye, turned towards Aang.
"Hi!" The air bender said with a grin.
"Hello. And goodbye." Sokka said as his hand latched onto Katara's arm and he began to drag her away.
"Sokka, don't be an idiot." She said as she wrenched her arm out of his grip and turned to Aang. "Hi! I'm Katara and this is my brother, Sokka."
"Are you new around here? I'm pretty sure I haven't seen you aro-" He was saying but was cut off as the girl pulled off the cloth and began to fan her exposed face. Aang stared in awe at her exotic features; her blue eyes were even brighter than Sokka's and a few strands of her hair fell into her face to frame them. "Around." Aang finished, hastily clearing his throat.
Sokka looked suspiciously at him from behind Katara but she was oblivious to his obvious distraction, instead smiling at him. "I-yes. We're servants." She said, her expression faltering as she spoke.
"Servants?" Aang echoed. "Whose?"
"Some man whose too old to do his own work. I think his name is Gyatso or something." Katara said with an absent-minded shrug.
"I'm sorry, what?" Aang asked, surprise evident on his features as he looked dumbly at them.
"She said his name was Gyatso." Sokka repeated snidely.
"But that's GREAT!" Aang said.
"Why?" Katara wondered, her own lips quirking into a smile as she noticed Aang's huge grin.
"Because you're my servants."
"WHAT?" Sokka yelled as his face contorted with irritation.
"Sokka." She muttered.
"Oh come on, Katara. I'm not serving this idiot." He said loudly.
Ignoring Sokka's remark, Aang smiled happily at them as he spoke. "No, no. This is wonderful because now I'll have company."
Noticing their confused glances, he elaborated. "Well, I don't really know if Gyatso is related to me but he's been taking care of me ever since I was a baby and he's my teacher. I live with him and he didn't tell me he was getting new servants."
"Right." Sokka said with a frown.
"So, shouldn't you be at home?" Aang asked, casting an inquisitive glance at the two.
"Well, Sokka went to fetch some water but he didn't bother to ask where the well was and he forgot the pitcher. So I was bringing it up for him." She said, as she held up a clay container that Aang hadn't noticed before.
"Oh, I'll show you to the well, if you want." Aang offered with a smile.
"Finally!" Sokka suddenly burst out.
"Sokka." Katara said reproachfully but the tribesman merely shrugged.
"Okay, then." Aang said as he glanced funnily at them before turning on his heel and stalking in the opposite direction.
"No, no. That goes before that." Gyatso said patiently to Sokka as the tribesman pored feverishly over the pot hanging above the fire-pit.
Katara stifled a laugh as she spared the two a glance before going back to sewing the tear in Sokka's shirt. Her fingers moved like lightning over the cloth, the needle flashing silver as the light bounced off it and Aang couldn't help but be amazed by the swiftness with which she worked. The only people he had ever seen sewing so fast were the tailors and embroiderers which arrived in the village every month to sell their goods before moving on.
However, even Katara flinched every few minutes as the needle pierced her finger tips and Aang observantly noticed that her fingers were dotted with little dark pin-pricks. "What's that?" He wondered aloud as he pointed at her hands.
Katara pushed the needle carefully into the cloth before following Aang's gaze down to her fingers. "Oh, these." She said. "Well, I'm not that good at sewing so I prick my fingers with the needle every now and then. It's just dried blood from that." She explained before pausing.
"My mother used to call them 'pepper-fingers'." Katara said absentmindedly.
Across from them, Sokka slowly looked up and gazed at Katara's downcast eyes. As if sensing his gaze on her, she looked up and wiping the wistful look off her face, shot him a reassuring smile.
Satisfied, the tribesman turned back to the cauldron, leaving Aang wondering just what could have happened to make them so jumpy about their mother. He and Gyatso exchanged a glance before the master air bender turned to Sokka and began to instruct him again.
A small cloud of dust went up into the air as the figure landed onto the ground with a light thud. His pure black Arabian horse whinnied into the night and the rider's fingers lightly skimmed the creature's mane. A few seconds passed and then the horse fell silent.
A young boy, barely ten years of age, ran up to him and without a word, began to guide the horse towards the back. Not bothering to acknowledge the child, the person pulled the cloth off his face and the dust from the air immediately invaded his mouth and nose.
Grimacing the figure turned in the opposite direction and began to make his way towards the market square, his wary gaze carefully studying his surroundings. The village was bathed in moonlight and everything was still and silent, except for him. By the looks of it, the village seemed normal enough and he was positive that it would take some time for Azula to notice it.
With gritted teeth, he made his way past the market square and towards a large group of houses on a more elevated patch of land. It barely took him more than a few minutes to finally reach the house that he was looking for and as the dark structure loomed into sight, he raised his hand and knocked twice on the door.
After dinner, Katara had resumed working on the shirt while Sokka sat in front of the fire, throwing in a bit of timber every now and then. They had dragged the wooden bed out into the yard and once Aang had made himself comfortable on it, Gyatso had begun a story. With only the sound of Gyatso's deep, gravelly voice and the crackling of the fire, it was impossible not to fall asleep and after barely ten minutes, Aang had dozed off.
Presently, a loud knock at the door was what made him jerk upright into a sitting position. He looked around the yard for someone but it was empty, the fire reduced to ashes and the air still. Perhaps it was the sight of the full moon hanging in the sky or the silence which ensued right after the knock, but Aang was suddenly wide-awake and slightly spooked.
Brushing off the sudden pang, Aang reassured himself with the fact that if the need befell him, he could defend himself very well. Besides, it was their calm little village. What could possibly happen? With that thought set in mind, Aang pushed himself off the bed and made his way towards the door. Cracking it open, he peeked out, his cautious eyes scouring the area for a sign of anyone.
Spotting no one, Aang was about to shut the door when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. At once, he turned on his heel to find himself face to face with a young man. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips and he stumbled backwards and would have fallen, had it not been for the hand that shot out to grab him by the front of his shirt.
"You shouldn't take so long to answer the door." The smooth voice said and Aang's eyes widened as the man pushed him up against the door, slamming it shut in the process.
"Where's Master Gyatso?" The man asked but Aang merely stared dumbly at him. "Useless." The voice muttered and then turned away.
"I am not useless." Aang said indignantly and the man turned back to look at him.
"Whatever you say." He said and then flicked his wrist forward, a flame bursting to life in his palm.
The fire light illuminated the person's face and Aang saw that it was a boy, only a few years older than him by the looks of it. The left side of his face was disfigured by a deep red scar, the light flickering off his pale skin. But despite himself, Aang found himself growing increasingly intrigued by the boy's unique features and a few seconds passed before he realized that he was staring. And that the boy had noticed.
However, he seemed to be gazing at Aang with just as much interest, his golden eyes carefully studying his tattoos before sliding down to his grey eyes. "So, you're the one." He said quietly.
"Huh?" Aang wondered aloud.
"Never mind. Just take me to Master Gyatso." The boy said hurriedly as he turned away.
"How do I know you're not an assassin?" Aang asked indignantly.
"I'm not." The boy said, seemingly amused. "I'm much worse." He said and he glanced over his shoulder to smirk at Aang. "Now, stop wasting my time and take me to Gyatso."
"Fine, fine." Aang grumbled, shooting the boy a suspicious look.
He silently led him into the adjoining room and Aang noticed an indescribable tension constantly hanging over them. Aang once again looked at the boy before turning on his heel and slipping into Gyatso's room, only to see that the old man was already wide awake and fully dressed.
"Gyatso, there's someone here to see you." Aang said, even though it was obvious that he already knew.
Nodding in acknowledgement, Gyatso placed a hand on Aang's shoulder and led the two out to the room where the boy was comfortably seated, his curious gaze studying his surroundings. He looked at Aang as he once again entered and a chill ran up the air bender's spine at the intensity of his gaze.
Aang glared back at him and after a few moments, the boy looked away with a small smile playing on his lips. "Master Gyatso." He said as he stood up and bowed respectfully.
"Zuko." The master said as he gestured for him to sit.
A few seconds passed and Zuko glared pointedly at him, but refusing to move, Aang stayed rooted in place. "Aang, why don't you bring some refreshments for our guest?" Gyatso suggested with a smile.
The air bender felt his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment as Zuko's smile widened into a smirk and silently cursing the idiot, he turned on his heel and went towards the kitchen.
"What news do you bring?" Gyatso asked once Aang had exited the room.
"Well, if Uncle Iroh's sources are correct, she should be here in a fortnight. She's searching the surrounding villages but this one is ordinary enough to evade her attention for now." Zuko said gravely.
"How much does she know?" Gyatso asked.
"Everything." Zuko replied shortly. "Except, of course, that the boy doesn't know he's the Avatar."
The fact seemed to amuse Gyatso and he sat back with a smile on his weary face. "Very well, then."
Zuko nodded quietly and a few seconds passed in silence with only the sounds of Aang working in the kitchen. The fire bender glanced up hesitantly, a frown curving his lips downwards as he considered his thoughts before opening his mouth to speak.
"What is it, prince Zuko?" Gyatso asked with a slight smile.
"It's just that..." The fire bender began. "He seems incredibly immature and naive. Are you certain that he is capable of handling his duties?"
"He may not seem like it, Zuko, but Aang is a very intelligent young boy. He yields the power of all the past Avatars and is already a master air bender with little left for me to teach him." He said with a smile.
"Intelligence is not going to keep him alive." Zuko said bitingly.
"No, you are." Gyatso said with a nod.
The fire bender looked up at Gyatso with a scowl but the old air bender merely replied with a smile. "You should not worry so much about him, Zuko. He is learning fast. In fact, I have already acquired his water bending teacher." The old master said with a reassuring smile.
"I'm not worried about him." The fire bender said defiantly.
"There is nothing wrong with caring, Zuko. In fact, the emotion will only urge you to protect him even more."
The fire bender merely glared at him and was about to say something when Aang entered, balancing a tray on his hand. He placed it on the table in front of Zuko and picking up the cup of tea, held it out for the fire bender.
Zuko took it with a stony expression but Aang pretended not to notice and instead, shot him a sweet smile, causing the fire bender's frown to deepen.
Across from them, Gyatso watched their silent exchange with growing amusement.
Second chapter! And I've decided that this fiction is going to be an eventual Zukaang xD
So, I've modified the plot and summary a little.
Anyway, hope you liked this chapter and thnx for the reviews :]
-Jade258