Ten Years of Difference
Chapter One
A decade after Destiny was denied…
There were only about twenty of them, the raid leader saw. Even in the torchlight, it was easy to make out. The caravans – five of them – had been put in a circle. Only one tent stood out – that of the commanding officer, certainly. The others were sleeping in rough cots and blankets, armour and weapons at hand.
The fires were beginning to die down, but not the braziers at the edge of the camp. These were maintained by soldiers who kept watch, circling the caravan in groups of two. Six of them were awake. Shifts of two to three hours each.
Typical Imperial arrangement. Sokka nodded in the gloom of the surrounding forest, smiling grimly. The information had been correct, it seemed.
The first shift, he had let pass patiently. There was no point in rushing. His father had always told him that patience was its own reward, that to win a raid was to wait for the right moment. Now, one third was in a tired sleep, the second third was thinking nothing of sleep, the last in a deep sleep.
Now, he thought, and whistled.
The soldiers barely had time to react. One moment, they were lazily gazing about. The next, arrows zipped towards them, eliciting cries of pain and surprise. Two of them never had time to say anything. One received a well-placed arrow to the head, killing him instantly. The other took one to the throat, and fell, coughing blood in his death throes.
"Alert! We're under attack!" The remaining ones cried, and one more fell to arrows. The others stirred, while the others crouched, trying to keep away from the glare of the fire.
Sokka whistled a second time, and three men stepped out of the wood, barefooted. They stamped their feet, and the ground shook, the ground erupting in pandemonium in the midst of the sleepy soldiers, scattering them.
Some fell on the embers of the fires, and screamed in pain, rolling about to put out any spark. Others stood in confusion, sleep muddying their thoughts. Their commander stumbled out of the tent, trying to strap on his armour.
A third whistle, and Sokka took out the curved blades which only his people knew to make. In a moment, he was charging, right into the confusion, while others followed behind him.
Overtaking him was a woman with archaic clothing and a painted face, who began making short work of the soldiers, while a man in leather armour and a heavy helmet struck down one soldier, then another with his speed.
This had been done within thirty seconds. It was looking to be a flawless raid, especially since there were no Firebenders in sight.
Perfect, he thought fiercely, as his blades met the sword of a determined, but panicked Fire Empire soldier. Simply perfect!
Sokka's sense of timing and dexterity had improved through hard work and many similar raids. He easily dodged the blow meant for him, and smashed his weapon right at the side of the soldier's blade, knocking it off, and turning even as he did so. With his other hand, on the second stroke, he struck the man's helmet at full force, denting the helm itself, and the young man stumbled.
A well-placed knee to the gut and a quick hit on the back of the neck finished this enemy. Quickly, Sokka analyzed the battlefield, and saw that his help wasn't quite needed. His fan-wielding companion had already laid four soldiers low, while two were at the feet of the spear-wielding man.
Still more had fallen under the assault of the Earthbenders, and only half a dozen remained, desperately holding off the assaults mounted against them. Sokka briefly considered finishing them off, but decided against it. This was a raid, not a butchery. He wouldn't begin to thread the ground of the Fire Empire's forces.
"You're beaten and surrounded!" he called, and the battle stalled, only the moans of the wounded and the noises of the forest breaking the sudden silence. "Surrender, and I promise you that you'll be spared.
"Sokka, Jet said - !" The young man with the spear interjected. Sokka gave him a cold, final look. Jet again. he thought with venom in his heart. Jet and his insane, selfish acts of private vengeance.
"This is my operation. My command." He reminded the younger man slowly. "I decide what happens. Is that understood, Duke?"
The Duke, who had been one of Jet's Freedom Fighters – and, as far as Sokka was concerned, was guilty of aiding in killing several hundred innocents, seemed ready to open his mouth and protest. However, the fan-wielding girl gave him a look, and he only nodded sullenly. She just saved your life, idiot, he thought.
He gave the soldiers a look, and then gazed into the eyes of the commander. He was older than the others, and sported the goatee and wore – partly at least – the trappings of an officer. That officer stared at Sokka hard, as if gauging him, as all waited.
"I don't give mercy on a whim. When I give my word, I keep it." he promised. "Surrender now, and you will be spared. " He sighed as they hesitated.
"Fight, and I'll kill you all here and now."
When Zuko walked as the Blue Spirit, he could walk unseen. When he moved about, even the best of thieves and assassins would be hard-pressed to locate him. He had, by necessity and will, developed such gifts of stealth. If he had wanted, he could gone in and out of the tavern without anyone being the wiser.
But Zuko had no wish for it. Today he wanted to be seen. Today, stealth wasn't what he wished for. Today – or, rather, tonight – was for the warrior that many a tutor, a beloved uncle and years of suffering had formed. That was the Zuko which slid the door open.
Eyes spotted him as he entered. Bleary eyes, sharp eyes, curious eyes, cunning eyes, drunken eyes and more. A small part of the tavern looked at him, but those that did noticed. And then the eyes looked away.
Zuko had grown tall and fit, but nothing that should inspire fear. His garb, travel-stained and greyed by the road and the dust, was nothing remarkable, either. He was, in many ways, just a simple traveller.
Only he wasn't, and the men felt it. They saw it in the baleful eye staring out of the burnt half of his face – a gift from a man he no longer acknowledged as blood. They saw it in the movements of his steps, each of them a threat, each of them a danger.
Most of all, they saw it in the way his hand rested on the hilt of his dual swords. Nicked and stained the blades might be, but their exceptional make and his calloused, practiced hand told of his might. And he had another power to draw upon, if need be. But he didn't feel he would need it, not tonight.
So the men noticed silently, and the way opened silently, until he stood at the tavern's counter, where different types of beverages – from the Fire Nation's Dragonbreath to the Earth Kingdom's famed Bloodshine. The man at the counter, dressed well enough but sporting the same rough look as anyone else here, simply gauged an instant then went back to work.
"I'm looking for a man." He asked at once. The man at the counter only stared at him, and Zuko deftly flung a silver piece on the counter. "A glass of Bloodshine."
It was before him in a moment. Without missing a beat, knowing some eyes still looked without meaning it, Zuko ignored the conversations, the noises, the smell, picked up his drink, and drunk it straight down. Like acid, the potent liquor burned, but he ignored it as he might ignore any other sort of pain. He gave the man a stare and simply stated "I'm looking for a man named Kentharo. I know he always comes here. Give me another Bloodshine, and tell me where he is."
Patience, not anger, is always the better way to gain quick results. He heard his Uncle Iroh's voice in his head, clear as if the man was beside him. His Uncle, who was nothing less than a father in his heart. His Uncle who he missed so much. His adage held true, as he was pointed to his target.
He walked there, through the din of conversations, and sat before a burly man who, judging from his looks and manner, had taken quite a few glasses of potent liquor. Although his speech wasn't slurred at all, he was hesitant in his movements, and his hands trembled slightly. He also seemed half-asleep, waking when Zuko sat in front of him.
"Hey, I wanna be left alone." He warned, clearly not liking the fact he was no longer alone at his table. Burly, but in a muscular way, and far taller than Zuko, he seemed used to scaring away unwanted people by imposing himself physically on others.
"Soon enough. I want information." He said. The man seemed taken aback at his level tone.
"Lissen, I've nothing to tell you." He hissed, "Certainly not to a damned man from the Fire Isles." His ire wasn't unusual, and his repartee poor. Zuko was unimpressed.
"It's about a woman named Bei Fong Toph." The one who had once been Crown Prince of the most powerful nation in the world said simply.
"Bei Fong? The southern merchant princes from Gaoling? Nothing to say about them, not like I mix with that rich lot." The man huffed, but there had been something. Something in his eyes, some hesitation in his body language. Zuko noted it easily.
"And yet, I heard that someone resembling her met you, from sources I find trustworthy enough." He mused. If Sokka's sources were right, of course. But, in this case, I think they are. This guy's being tough, but he's starting to reek of fear…
"Now you listen. I don't know any Toph or whatever. I've hauled lots of cargo today, Islander, and I'm tired. Now, are you with the Imperial Watch?" The man said, his agitation climbing quickly.
"No." There was no way Zuko would ever take part in something his family had a hand in. The only man in his family worth following had, after all, sadly passed away because of its surviving members.
"Then get out of my face, Islander." The man growled, slapping some money on the table and leaving, wobbling slightly, through the crowd. Zuko watched him go, then looked at his second glass of Bloodshine.
"Kentharo, you don't lie well." He said, and his eyes became unpleasant. "I really hate lies."
And he drained his second glass in one swallow.
"What do we got, Liwon?" Sokka asked the young man in charge of take count of the goods. Of all of his people, the young Earthbender, a lanky, average-looking youth with somewhat spiky hair, was the fastest in doing the task. It was no wonder, as he had been born in a family of Earth Kingdom accountants.
"Corn, rice, rye, mainly. Enough food to last five hundred men two weeks, if they're careful." The young man said, scratching stubble which wouldn't yet become a beard. "And medical supplies, too." He was rather happy with that. Sokka nodded for him to continue. "Not many weapons. This was a supply run."
Sokka nodded and turned his attention back to the caravans themselves. Already, he was thinking on how he'd get them and their cargo to a safe point, he considered where the goods would be distributed, and where the empty husks would be left to avoid danger.
Things he'd learned from his father, and which he'd learned to do when he had died. I wish you'd be here, Dad. He thought in regret. Then, another regret came unbidden. I wish Katara was here with me right now.
He grimaced and shook his head, his mane of brown hair swishing with his movements. There was no point in regrets. Not right now. Not when people depended on his decisions. He almost missed the fact that someone came close to him as a result.
"Nicely done, Sokka." Came a voice which still haunted his dreams at night. He turned his head to see deep, blue eyes in the midst of fierce war painting. She seemed a bit awkward, and Sokka felt both longing and indecision grip him.
But another feeling also took hold, one he had grown accustomed to when it came to her: Bitterness. His eyes narrowed a bit as he stared at her. He was angered when her eyes seemed to suddenly convey disappointment. I'm not the one who left. He thought bitterly.
"Yeah. Thanks. This really should get the Fire Na… I mean, the Empire mad. I'm betting their gonna flood this area with soldiers."
"And that'll leave the nearby forts terribly undermanned." She said, and her smile almost broke through the bitter shell he'd wrought around him. There was a time when that smile shone only for him. No more now.
"Yup. The biggest operation we've had for the last three years." Ever since Dad died, his mind reminded him. He realized what he was starting to feel, starting to do. She was so damned close, and he was feeling so damned… he looked away in discomfort.
"Sokka…" she began, and there was something in her voice he hadn't heard in a long time. He turned back to look on her troubled face, and then he heard a voice, shrill with both terror and anger, ring out.
"You bastards! His Majesty, Firelord Ozai'll wipe you filth out some day!"
The Fire Soldiers who'd survived had been treated for major wounds once their leader had ordered their surrender, then had been tied to trees, all while Sokka ordered the dead wrapped in their blankets and lain nearby.
He had forbidden looting the corpses, as always. Enemy or not, the dead always deserved respect, something both his father and mother had been keen on. Hakoda's rules were still law in Sokka's group.
But another rule which Hakoda had maintained had been that prisoners, once surrendered, could never be harmed. Sokka had seen the wisdom in that, too. It separated them from beasts and killers.
But he saw the Duke in front of the foolish man, and saw the other four who stood nearby. Jet's people. People who couldn't care less about what his father thought or said. Duke's voice cracked like a whip, sneering, condescending, lethal. Sokka began to walk towards the sound of the altercation.
"You Fire Nation always open your mouths when you shouldn't, you know?" The Duke said and, with a swift movement, he brought his spear down from his shoulder and drove it through the bound soldier's throat. The man gasped, gurgled, and then went into spasm, even as the Duke watched.
"You filthy monsters!" one of the other soldiers shouted. "He was just a damned kid who didn't know anything! Murderer!"
"So, more stupidity from people who should just shut up. I guess I'll just…"
"Duke, you monstrous little bastard!" Sokka growled, finally reaching the group. Normally not someone of remarkable strength, his rage and dismay empowered him, and he lifted the younger man clear off the ground. "I gave an order not to touch the prisoners!"
The Duke's smile was full of arrogance and, for a moment, Sokka thought he was looking at Jet himself. Trained him well, didn't you? Eh, Jet?
"Me, Suki and these guys…" Duke said with a smirk, "We don't have to obey your stupid lil' rules. They're Fire Nation, and they'll die if I want them to. If you gotta problem with how Jet does thing…"
He didn't go any further. Dropping him to his feet, Sokka swung his fist with every fibre of anger and horror he felt, and cracked a shot across the other man's Jaw. Teeth and blood spurted, and the Duke swayed, only to receive a second crack from the other side. So hard did Sokka strike, he felt like his hands had broken, and gritted his teeth against the pain.
Suki stayed where she was, looking at the body in what Sokka hoped was disgust, but the other three of Jet's members mad an angry move towards him. Moves which stopped as sounds erupted around them. Sounds of rocks being parted from the ground, and of bows being readied.
Twelve archers and Earthbenders surrounded the knocked out Duke, Suki and the other three of Jet's acolytes. Sokka didn't give them a chance to speak.
"Get your things, and got tell that crazed leader of yours," Sokka hissed, gritted teeth acting like a gate, barring his trembling rage, "That I'll never work with the likes of you again. My men are freedom fighters. You're just misguided killers. Now go, or I'll hang the lot of you here and now!"
"Sokka, I'd never…" Suki began, but he growled over her protest.
"You chose his rotten way, now follow it! OUT!" he shouted, and refused to look at them even as they took hold of the Duke and left. They did so quickly, which probably saved them. I might have hanged them, even HER, for this, if they'd stayed.
He sighed when they were gone, and spied the stares of hatred and distrust in the eyes of the other Fire soldiers. He could scarcely blame them. He had betrayed his word, even unwittingly. He gave the dead soldier s look, and sighed.
"Put him with the others." He told his people. "Then man the caravans. We're leaving this place now.
The man who was called Kentharo crashed into the wall, having been thrown there with all the force Zuko could muster. The man was groggy, and fearful. Already knowing he'd bitten more than he could chew. Zuko meant to expand on that fear.
He jumped quickly, hopping to the spot the other man was picking himself up, and landed on the man's ribs, hearing them crack sickeningly. Kentharo screamed, but no one would care to come. Not in the dark alleyway the disgraced prince had pushed him into.
"Kentharo." He snapped, "I don't think you told me everything I needed to know."
"Spirits…the pain… I… I told you…" the man gasped, his larger frame all but writhing in pain. "Told you… all I know…nonono, hurts…"
"It must. I just broke, oh three bones, maybe four." Zuko hissed implacably, his golden eyes narrowed pitilessly. You relied solely on wisdom, Uncle. Zuko thought, But I'm not you. I don't have your ability to talk. To reach the same result, I need something else.
That was fear. And Zuko, over the years, had developed it into a very potent weapon. He pressed his knee against the man's ribs, cracking them further, making the man bellow and cry in pain. Still the prince stared, undaunted.
"Within minutes, guards will come." He announced. The port had a garrison, certainly. "By this time, I'll be gone. Will the guards take you to a healer," he wondered, and then he focused the elements of heat from within himself, channelling his will to make his forearms burst into flame. "or shall they bury your charred corpse?"
The man's eyes bulged, and something broke in them. What little resistance remained in Kentharo was broken. I have him. I always have them, no matter how tough or how weak they are.
"Dun…d-dunno a Toph… never heard the name… I swear, no name…"
"Woman wearing deep green clothes. Not tall. Barefoot. Pale eyes. Blind…" Zuko hissed quickly. Time was growing short.
"B-blind…yeah…yeah…yeah. Drunk with a blind woman. Black hair, long, creepy…d-d-drugged her… d-drink…" The man said, his eyes wide, his mouth trembling from the fear and the pain. Zuko brought his burning arms closer, and Kentharo cringed in terror.
"You drugged her? Why?" he demanded.
"I was asked! I swear! They gave me money. A year's worth of money, just to get her to sit, to get her drugged. They got her! She couldn't put up a fight, g-g-got taken easy. They-t-they…"
"WHO is they?" he snarled.
"Imperials! Imperial soldiers! Firebenders, and a weird lady!!" The man wailed.
Zuko slammed his burning hand next to the man's head, and the man began to cry. He was terrorized. Good! That's no less than he deserves! But something bothered him in what Kentharo had said.
"A weird lady? Describe her!"
"…hurts…lady… dark air… beautiful…but cold. No emotions…" the man shook his head. "No, emotions…bored! She looked bored. She yawned! Yawned! Like this…l-like a this…"
"Like it wasn't worth her time?"
"Y-yeah!"
Zuko's mind reeled from that fact. He knew who it was. He knew the woman in question. Of all of the people around his sister, she had been the only one who could fully withstand Azula's temper. Bored. Life was boring to her, at times. Mai. One of Azula's dogs now. What could it mean?
"One more question, and I let you go." Noise, in the street. The city guard, no doubt. "Did they say anything about where they'd take her?"
"H-huh…"
"Speak!"
"S-south!" the man wept, shivering. "South! A temple! A temple. Oh please, oh please, spirits, spirits, it hurts…"
Zuko left the man be, quickly taking flight, easily dodging the patrol. The fool would send them running after him, but the prince had seen worse chases in his life. Compared to the one Azula had once given him, this would be nothing.
Azula. You took Toph south. A temple? He'd have to check on that. Now, however, something else was bothering her, almost as much as knowing the arrogant Blind Bandit might be in danger. They knew. Mai knew. Knew of Toph's plans. Information was leaked.
He sped through the streets, his mind set, his goal clear.
Katara was as tough, as prideful, and as stubborn as any of her family. She had her mother's wilfulness, and her father's fighting spirit. Fighting a battle was something she was fully prepared to do in her soul.
Within reason.
But, as she ran on the icy banks near her home village, she knew better than to actually fight the three firebenders who ran after her in the open like. This. It wouldn't do any good. They'd defeat her, take her, and then follow the nearby trails and come upon her village.
Like I could let them see the trails. Better for them to hunt me. She thought feverishly. That was why she'd attacked the three with what Waterbending she'd mastered. That was why she was running like a polar bear dog. She wasn't running out of fear, but out of necessity.
She gave off a gasp as a fire missile impacted nearby. Okay, maybe I'm running out of fear. Just a bit. She admitted. They'd lost patience with her, it seemed. She wished she could turn and fight, but they had too much advantage now.
Her only chance was that the Fire Nation people were notoriously bad in the cold. They came from warm, humid places. The ice lands would sap their strength in time, allowing her to escape, and maybe retaliate.
Raids are more frequent in the region. Many villages have been attacked. Sokka would say that they're up to something big. She angrily remonstrated herself. She hadn't meant to think of her brother. Her brother, who'd left to join their father in his war to stop the Fire Nation.
Her brother, who left without her and abandoned her and the village. Damn you, Sokka! She thought angrily. Still, she agreed with her brother's former musings. The Fire Nation was getting bolder, striking inland more often.
Her breath was coming in short gasps now, and she felt pain in her chest. But her pursuers, she felt, were losing ground. Yes! They're tired! I knew that if I hanged on long enough…
Then, like it sometimes happened to people in a hurry and running on ice, she slipped, and fell down the side of the bank. She tried to grasp the edge, but her mittens slipped on the ice, and she went down.
The way down wasn't steep, but she did manage to feel every bumps, ending with her almost hitting the side of an ice outcropping with her head. She saw stars for a few instants, and had to fight against blacking out. All the while, she heard the footsteps bringing her pursuers closer.
End of the road. Hey, is this the place me and Sokka played in back in the old days? She looked around blearily, slowly. She realized that it was. A place of icy water and even colder mounds of ice, where she and her brother had played. Sokka would play the warrior, and she'd tell him of her beliefs about the avatar.
How he laughed at that. And how laughable it was. She told herself, as the cobwebs began to clear. The Avatar had disappeared from the world, heralding the Fire Nation's rise in power, and the violent wars between it and the rest of the world. Now, it seemed, it was winning, and no Avatar. What about the Balance?
She rose to her feet, panting, cringing as pain shot through her head and shoulder. Touching herself, she saw no blood, but those parts of her body had taken a beating. She took a step forward, and felt three large fireballs flying just over her head, hitting the large piece of ice farther on.
Looking at it a moment, she remembered that Sokka had wanted to go fishing around there once, but she'd convinced him not to, preferring to practice her Waterbending nearer the shore.
She glanced up, and saw that the three men had arrived, looking haggard from their pose. Haggard, but determined. Frowning, Katara forced her will upon the surrounding water, forcing parts of it up… and a blast of fire once again screamed overhead, nearer, stopping her. She barely heard that one's impact. Distantly, as she stared at her enemies grimly, she heard the cracks of the ice mound, breaking up under the heat of the warning shots.
"Surrender, Waterbender. You can't win. There's no point in dying here." One of the Firebenders grunted down to her. Surrender, huh? You'd like that, huh? Think I'm going to go like a little penguin, huh?! She would never be a slave to Firebenders. She'd die first.
Resolutely, knowing she was certainly undertaking her last actions as a living being, she went into herself, and called upon every bit of training and will she ever put, and the water bubble and began to lift.
"Don't be a fool!" The Firebender shouted, and he and his companions prepared themselves.
"Better a fool than a prisoner!" she snapped, and she began to lift her arms.
And then a light flashed from behind, overpowering all of her senses.
Within the icy cocoon, for the first time in many decades, Aang's consciousness stirred. Explosions. Being attacked. Must… must…defend. Defend! DEFEND!
And his powers reacted to this thought, activating powers thought dead for well over a century.
And destiny, detained for yet one more decade, finally unfurled its wings…