A new hope

by samurhi

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If you were to step onto the balcony of the tallest tower in central city, you would see the whole land of Amestris stretch before you: a vast desert to the East, rolling hills of fertile land to the South and West, and icy mountains to the North.

As your gaze would wonder the panorama, you might notice, just where the blue of the frozen peaks meets the sky, one mountain in particular which, half way up its summit, splits into two as though cloven by the gods themselves. If the day was clear and you looked really very much harder, you might be able to make out the little plateau which lies at the base of this rocky V, however, none of this would be very interesting unless you had eyes like the magicians of old. However, if you did indeed have farsight, and if you knew just where to look, you'd see a little town hugging the two craggy stone walls, safe in the shadow of the mountain, hidden from sight.

Now, I know that you're really rather smart and know all about our history, but bear with an old man as I tell you the story of why we live here today, and why it was so fortunate that no one in central city had sight so sharp as the ancients.

Many years before your time, in an age even before the great war with Aerugo (such a very long time ago it was), the whole land of Amestris was at war. The Fire Nation, a polluted people forced to leave their homeland as they had stripped it of all use, invaded from the South and from the East. Their people wielded fire as a weapon, but lacked knowledge, for they had no concept of the rules of equivalent exchange. The invading armies marched on the capital city, burning, pillaging, and destroying everything in their path, never resting, and without regard for the doom they sealed upon themselves.

Maybe the air here in Amestris is different from whence they came, or maybe they knew the price and thought it worthy, but as their armies advanced so too their humanity dwindled. No longer were they men, but wraiths and ghasts and shades who had traded their very souls for victory in battle – the price was terrible, but so too was their power.

Slowly our armies were pushed back and many of our greatest alchemists fell. Our people dwindled and went into hiding. A resistance movement sprouted with parties led by mighty alchemists, but even these men were routed by the fiery wrath the fire nation enforcers – the shades. Fighting against them became rare. The end was near.

But as you know, the cycle of time must continue, and so when doom for our people seemed all but assured, so too began murmurs of a great hero. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, maybe a desperate joke, maybe a prayer to the gods, but the hero did come, and though she wasn't what any expected, it was she who brought us salvation.

And hers is the story I set out to tell you today, my sweet summer child. It starts just as many epic stories start – in the most unassuming place imaginable. In fact, our story starts in a little town, far north of Central City, nestled in the crag of a mountain. The town is called Haven, and it is here our heroin grew up.

"Get up brother! Get up!"

Nikki happily buzzed around the tiny one room hut as a mass of burlap and furs piled in the far corner of the little room began to move. "Nick… go away. It's far too early to be up," came a voice from those depths.

The girl stopped her buzzing and turned in the air to face just the place where she expected to see a face in just a moment. She wasn't disappointed.

"Look Sam! I figured it out. It works! I can fly!" She darted up to the ceiling once more and executed a sloppy backwards summersault to punctuate her exclamation. Sam disentangled himself from where he slept.

"Would you keep it down," he hissed – not unlovingly, and he stood and pulled on his leather slacks, "you know what the rest of the town has to say about your little experiments. Think about what they'd do if they knew you actually were all that they suspected… we'd be thrown out, given to the bear-lions... or worse."

"I'm sorry." She landed and he held her tight for a moment. "I don't want anything to happen to you, especially not with those scouting parties getting ever closer to our little town."

"I understand," she returned from the embrace, only half listening, "but look!"

She gave her translucent wings a few flaps and lifted off the ground a few feet once more. "I have spent so much time working on those bigger wings, but last night it occurred to me how much simpler a bug's wings are than an eagle's, so I thought I'd give that a try – and I got it! First try!" She beamed and slowed her flapping, touching back onto the ground.

"I'm so proud of you Nick, but you really should get more sleep, I know that's exhausting for you and there's not really any rush to learn. I'm sure we'll be safe here for another few months at least." He pulled back the topmost cover, offering her the warmth that was held inside. She gladly accepted.

"I've got to leave now if I'm going to be back by nightfall," he said to the now hidden figure of his sister, "I set the traps down by the lake yesterday so it'll be quite a trek, but I'll hurry. Try to have something warm for me when I get back. I know that's easy for you."

From the other side of the room Sam collected his few belongings: a leather shirt and belt, a long, thick hunting knife, a rucksack, and a veined wineskin. He piled them into his sack along with some cracked bread and cheese rinds and left the seemingly empty house.

Sam and his sister had only come to Haven a few years prior, fleeing the conflict on the mainland after their parents had been slain. They ran to the mountains, seeking solitude, and eventually, in their wanderings, happened upon this little town.

They were not the first refugees to do so. In fact, so extensive was the refugee exodus that even this hidden city had nearly doubled in size since he and his sister arrived. The townspeople had graciously accepted the newcomers, simply carving little dwellings higher and higher on the mountainside, offering shelter from the winds for any who came to the town, but ultimately making the once small but orderly city look much more like a giant, stone anthill, with those newest to life in Haven living at the ever heightening peak.

It was when the anthill was silent that he enjoyed it most, and it was silent only in the morning. The chilled morning winds kept most indoors until the sun came up, and so, as he left his little stone dwelling the town looked entirely empty. The sun hadn't peaked the mountain yet but the sky was a milky grey that held the little town's details in sharp contrast. Snow had dusted the surrounding area.

Sam pulled himself from the ledge in the cliff where their house was built and slid down the ladder as he has done a hundred times before. He landed and plunged into the next alley, then down another ladder, and another – running the rather labyrinthine path from their house near the top of the anthill to its base, where trees and dirt overtook stone as the predominant feature.

The sky was much lighter as Sam finally plunged into the darkness of the forest below the town. The trail felt familiar and comfortable, like an old friend's embrace, and in no time at all he was too far into the woods for even his sister, perched near the peak of the mountain of houses, to see him if she desired. The only sound was the light crunch of his footfalls on the frozen ground. Even the animals kept to themselves before the sun was up – it was too cold for any to stir save the occasional owl-cat or bear-pig.

He moved quickly to keep warm, leaping down the mountain path the town's people had blazed to the river, and he knew that if he could get there before daybreak, he could slow his pace as he followed the river to the lake and still, hopefully, make it back to Nikki before darkness fell completely.

As he walked, this thoughts drifted to future plans. He knew Nikki needed to be down on the mainland, fighting. The needed her. But he knew she was still learning and didn't want to put her in more danger than appropriate. Then again, was this really – his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footfalls. Crunching in the snow, quiet and distant, but unmistakable.

He stopped to listen, crouched behind a fallen log and put his ear to the ground. The dirt path didn't offer much in the way of amplification, but again, unmistakably, footfalls, several of them. "Maybe more refugees?" Sam thought to himself, "but why would they travel this early in the morning?" He hopped the log and, now stealthily, made his way down the path to a small, convenient overlook, and, crouching down, he waited as the sound grew louder.

After just a minute or two of waiting, the relative silence was broken by a voice, still far off, but carried by the mountain wind, and cold as that which carried it to Sam's ears. "If you do not make good on your promise, rest assured I will. It seems we have been walking far too much and that you lead us in circles. I am not a patient man." And a second, far less assured, voice, "We are almost there, I swear it. And then I can go? Right after? You told me I could."

"Yes," came the reply, "I never lie."

Only another moment or two passed before Sam, from his vantage point, saw those to whom the voices belonged. Leading the small party was a man dressed very similarly to himself: a leather shirt and greaves, though one arm was held in a sling. Even from a long way off, he could recognize his fellow trapper. "Bradley…?" he whispered to himself, but little thought was given to that as those following his friend were far more interesting. There were three men in red robes and white masks. None of their skin could be seen. Their cloaks were long and lined with fur and each had the air of nobility. One walked on either side of Bradley, just a few paces back, and one came last in the troupe, forming a triangle around a fourth newcomer.

He wore hardly any clothing, just a tattered pair of loose, cloth pants and tall steel boots. His chest was totally bare to the freezing mountain wind, and except for his long black hair, so too was his head. His skin was shock white and nearly translucent, but his eyes were so blue they stood out to Sam even with the hundred or so feet between them.

An immediate sense of dread struck Sam and he was ever more and more thankful for the log which obstructed the oncoming party's view from his position. He started backing up – more and more, as quietly as possible, as the party advanced towards him.

The white man spoke again. "If we are close, I will remind you what is to happen. When we come to your town, you will take us directly to General Grant's house. If it I find him, your freedom is assured. However, if you try to run, or I find you have lied, or you betray my trust in any way, your life and your family and your town will burn. Be assur…" They went around a corner and Sam took off running, up the dirt pathway, back to the town. He had to warn Nikki – and someone named General Grant.

Sam rounded the corner, nearly jumping through the little house's door as he plunged into the night.

"I guess it's nearly morning by now…" thought Nikki as she disentangled herself from the mass of coverings and leapt up, "but who sleeps when there's new things to learn?"

She walked to the back of their little house. They were fortunate enough to have been given a home carved deep into the mountain side. At first, this provided nothing but more warmth when the mountain winds were whipping harder than normal, but as time passed, this provided certain other, more significant advantages.

A thick burlap curtain was hung all along the bag wall of the house. Nikki walked over to it, and somewhere near the middle, lifted, revealing a dark tunnel, hidden in the house, proceeding deep into the mountain. The tunnel wasn't particularly long, but it was dark. Nikki, as she had done many times before, held up her hand, concentrated for a moment, and, slowly, her fingertips began to turn translucent, like little capsules filled with liquid, and then began to glow. Each one of them.

Now bathed in dim, yellow-blue light, her trek through the tunnel became far less perilous. Soon she came to the end where the narrow passage opened up into a large room. The room was lit well by a series of air holes high above her head, the light of which cast a milky morning light on masses of books and cages and tables stored in this hidden cave.

"Home sweet home."

She shook her hand a few times and the lights therein when out as quickly as they had come. She then closed her eyes, brow furrowed, tongue sticking out to the side in concentration, and reached towards her back, touching just above the spine. With invisible thread, she began to weave into being thin, translucent wings. The whole process took only a few seconds, but when she was done, a few flaps proved that her efforts had not been in vain.

She did a happy, in air summersault, proud she remembered how to weave without her books. She touched down, ran forward, and with a great leap, flew up, up, towards the ceiling a hundred feet above her head looking for…

"There you are!" she exclaimed.

A lone screecher owl was perched on the ledge of a little rock formation high up on the cave wall. She had caught it a few days prior and brought it to her cave. I looked her over calmly as though a person flying with a bug's wings was the most normal thing it had seen all day and went back to extracting a bug or two from the moss growing on its perch.

Nicole approached gingerly, hovering, and the owl didn't move. "Please don't be scared," she whispered, "I just want to learn from you."

She started mumbling under her breath as she closed the five, four, three foot gap between them. The owl looked up at the last moment as though it understood. Nikki reached out and placed her thumb between the bird's two massive eyes. First there was a great flash of light, and then it lessened, and lessened, until all that remained was a little orb of light where Nikki's thumb rested on the bird. The light split, half going straight to the owl's head and the other traveling up Nikki's arm until resting just at her forehead. The girl and the bird didn't break eye contact yet, but eventually, the girl nodded, and the bird understood. It flapped once, twice, and flew up and out – strait through an air hole.

The serenity of her DNA fusing was suddenly broken. "Is the bioalchemist here?" boomed a voice from the ground. Nikki was startled and quickly hid herself in the same rocks where the owl perched moments before. Looking down, she saw a thin, young man with black hair. He was dressed similarly to her – functional clothes, somewhat tattered – clearly refugee attire, with the odd addition of white gloves, but his stance and gait were not those of one broken by the conflict. He walked tall and proud around the cave, searching. His eyes where sharp and attentive, but Nikki was well hidden.

"I know you are in here," he called, "I saw you enter, and I fear I must explain myself before you reveal yourself to me."

"My name is General Grant. I'm a member of the resistance. Our underground team has been working to undermine the power of the Fire Nation for some time, but our numbers dwindle. We heard rumor of someone who could practice bioalchemy in this town, and I had to investigate for myself. I went undercover and have been watching you progress for some time. Honestly, I'm impressed. I would like it you continue living here happily for some time – your progress is prodigious, faster than even the ancient practitioners of your art, though I believe you are the last of your kind left – however, my whereabouts have been discovered by those who seek to harm us. A shade has been dispatched to Haven to search for me. I cannot give myself up, or the resistance might fail, and so the town will burn – and everyone in it. I need you to quickly make a decision. Are you to come with me, or to stay here and hope you are not found? We haven't much time. If you come, we will teach you to fight. Everything will change, but we need people like you, so, humbly I ask you to come with me."

Nikki swooped down to meet her new companion, intrigued by his offer.

"The Fire Nation killed my parents and needs to be stopped. I'll come with you."

"Good," came the reply, "there is no time to wait. Take only what is necessary. We leave in moments."

"And what about my brother?"

"He has seen the shade and is running back to your house now. We'll get him on the way."

A small rucksack of books and food was all Nikki brought with her as she sprinted along the streets with this mysterious General Grant.

"This way," he said in the same calm, even tone he always used, "your brother is this way."

They kept running, down ladders, through alleys, and around corners until, just as they neared the bottom rung of the city, they saw Sam, furiously sprinting up to meet them.

"Coming… danger… to get you… running…" He stopped in front of them, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"It's ok." Nikki touched his shoulder, "I know what's going on – or at least a bit of it. This is General Grant. He fights for the resistance."

She gestured to the, still coif, unexhausted figure standing by her.

While Sam would normally have been a bit taller, his being doubled over from exhaustion kept General Grant looking even more heroic than he might have. "We must move quickly. They are very close."

But it was too late. At that moment, the little party just left the cover of the forest and came into view of the city.

"And now there will be a fight," said Grant, "there is no way to avoid it, so I will accept it. Nikki, I need you and your brother to exit the city and run to the woods. We will meet by the lake. There is a small house on the far side. The people who live there will help us," and then he ran off, towards the city's gates, not looking back.

"What an intense guy," said Sam, slightly sarcastically, now standing and panting less.

"I think he's just serious about his job, but he seems to know what he's talking about. We should probably just do what he says."

They sprinted off together, in the same direction as General Grant.

When the pair reached the gates, they found Grant standing just outside, sleeves rolled up, hair slicked back. "They sent Ogodei," he said calmly, though visibly sweating. "He will die for what he's done."

Nikki pulled at Sam's shirt, urging him on, into the woods. "Wait," he said, holding her back, "I want to see."

The Shade and his party had also seen Grant. They advanced quickly over the field, iron boots reverberating on the frozen ground. However, before reaching Grant, the shade stopped, smiled, and urged his three companions forward, and sat down to watch.

"You mock me old friend!" Grant called as the three fire benders danced forward, three tongues of flame stretching outward.

Nikki gasped.

Grant didn't move. Not a muscle, until the fire was so close he could feel the heat. Then, in one quick motion, his had shot up, protecting his face. A ring on the glove glowed and the advancing flames parted around him, as though blocked by a wall. His second hand slashed through the air and a single, knife edge of flame passed down, lightning fast, and cut through all three benders advancing on his position. They fell and didn't move again.

"Mercy was never your strength," laughed the shade named Ogodei as he stood up.

"Neither was it yours," came the icy retort.

And then then pair stood there, quietly, eyes locked, hardly breathing.

"Well, I guess we should start," called the shade, and he raked both hands through the air. Massive trails of fire followed his motion and joined into a massive flaming blade just before crashing into their target. Nikki and her brother were blasted to the side, but Grant, never moving, never breaking concentration, emerged from the blast unscathed, only to be forced to block once more from another blast.

"Run!" He called to Nikki. "Please."

"We need to go Sam." Nikki pulled at his shirt.

"Not yet Nick. He might need us."

All discussion was drowned out in more blasts.

"You cannot outlast me," screamed the shade in a laughing wrath. "Alchemy has its rules. Each action you make has a cost!" He brought down ever heavier blows onto the general. "Ha! I laugh at your rules! There is no cost to me! I cannot tire!" He punctuated his last statement with a great uppercut. A river of flame erupted from the ground just under Grant. It passed his guard and he was punted far into the air, crashed into the wall, and slumped down to the ground, breathing, but not moving.

"We need to save him," whispered Nikki to her brother from the safety of the grassy outcropping where they landed after their dive.

"How though? Did you see what he can do" Sam replied.

Nikki touched her back and began weaving as the shade advanced on Grant.

"You see," he said, "you have chosen the way of order, and I the way of power. Did you know that? Don't answer. More importantly, you need to know how foolish a discussion that was. Do you know what I do to those under me who make foolish decisions?" He waited for a response.

"Hmm, too lazy to answer I see. Well, I'll tell you anyways. I punish them. And so, old friend," he spat, "remember this. Teach this to your children and to your children's children. When someone deserves punishment, here's what to do."

He held his hand high, flourished it, brought it down to a bow, and then snapped his fingers. The air around the general exploded into the most intense flame imaginable. Like the center of a bomb, and then it was gone. He snapped again, and again the air exploded. This time Grant cried out in his death throws. The fire stopped.

"And now you will die, General Grant Mustang," laughed his attacker, holding his hand up for the final blow.

"NO!" screamed Nikki, soaring to the wounded general, Sam in her talons, looking more owl than human. The shade's concentration was stolen, though only for a moment, and Nikki's talons closed around the limp body of the general and she took off, powerful wing strokes carrying the three to safety, away from the streams of fire and curses of the shade below.

"The lake is this way," yelled Sam over the rushing wind, pointing far to the West, and off they went. Nikki's powerful strokes carrying them over miles and miles away in minutes. He watched the general as they flew – knowing he was still alive, but not knowing how much longer he'd last.

Sam knew of the little house Grant had told them about and directed Nikki towards it. She touched down in front of the unassuming inn on the shore of the far side of the lake.

Nicole shook her wings and feet, muttering to herself and, gradually, she more and more resembled herself. A moment or two later, she, now decidedly human, and her brother had hoisted their unconscious companion up and walked in to the inn.

The inside, like the outside, was homely and unassuming. Only two people occupied the large eating area, and they sat together at the table furthest from the entrance.

One was a large man with a long grey beard. He wore a long cloak and a straw hat. Very little about his appearance was distinguishable. His companion, however, was far more unique. He had dark hair, much like General Grant, was thin as a whip, and had a thick, purple scar distorting nearly half of his face – certainly the result of an encounter with the Fire Nation.

"Uhh, sirs," Sam stumbled, "we were told by this man… you know… when he was conscious… to come here. We were running from a shade…"

"Mustang!" The larger man leapt from his seat with surprising agility and was by their side in a moment. "And brought to us by the chosen one. Interesting." He took the fully grown man out of Nikki and her brother's hands as though he weighed nothing.

The younger man had joined his elder by this time. "What is it uncle?"

"Today is a day of joy and mourning. See that our guests find safety. I will take our leader to the healers. I fear the war has begun anew today. Call the council, there is much to discuss."

The older man ran off to a back room and the younger gestured in front of them. "Follow me."

As they walked, Sam whispered to Nikki, "what if it's a trap?"

"Anyone who holds this love for Grant seems to be the sort we should be with. I think they're resistance fighters." They walked in silence after that. Down several halls and through a few doors until they came to a final, barred door. A small window in the door slid open, revealing a single pair of eyes.

"Who knocks at the garden gate?"

The thin man leading them answered, "One who has eaten the fruit and tasted its mysteries."

The door slid open and their guide stood to the side, holding the door open for Sam and Nikki. "Welcome to the headquarters of The Order of the White Lotus. We've been waiting on you for a long time…"