Chapter Four
For a week, I never leave my bedchamber. I float in and out of consciousness, waking up only to food brought daily into my room, and to let the maid change my robe and bandages. I've learned her name-Song.
Sometimes Zuko checks in on me, his face expressionless, but no one aside from him and Song visit. No more information about the Freedom Fighters. What they'll do with me now, I have no idea.
More days pass. I imagine what Sokka is doing right now, and whether he's wondering the same about me. Whether he's safe or not. Whether he's searching for me, or moving on with his life.
By the next full moon, I've recovered enough to go without bandages. The chafing on my wrists and ankles has faded into faint bruises, and the swelling in my cheek has disappeared, returning my face to normal. I'm thinner, though, and my hair has turned into a mess of knots, the spot where my father pulled at my scalp still tender. I study myself in front of the mirror every night, watching how the candlelight splashes orange on my face.
I look the same. I also look like a complete stranger.
Voices outside my bedroom pull me out of my sleep and into the gold of morning light. I lie very still, listening to the conversation that drifts in through the door.
I recognize the speakers immediately. Zuko and Song.
"—business to attend to. Katara. How is she?"
"Much better." A pause. "What should I do with her today, Your Highness? She is well now, and growing restless. Shall I take her around the shop?"
A brief pause. I imagine Zuko clenching his swords, his face turned away from Song, looking as disinterested as he sounds. Finally:
"Bring her to Uncle."
"Yes, Your Highness."
The conversation ends there. I hear footsteps echoing down the hall outside, then fading away and disappearing altogether. A strange disappointment hits me at the thought that Zuko won't be around. I'd hoped to ask him more questions. The shop, that's what Song had called this building where we're all staying. What kind of shop? What shop is this large? Who is Uncle?
I stay in bed and wait until Song bustles in. "Good morning, Lady Katara," she says from behind an armful of silks and a bowl of steaming water. "Look at that! Suck a spark in your eyes. Lovely."
How odd, someone complimenting me all the time and catering to my every whim. But I smile my thanks. As she scrubs me all over and then dresses me in the white and blue shift, I comb strands of hair across my face. I wince when she runs a brush along the injured part of my scalp.
Finally, we're ready. She guides me toward the door, and I take a deep breath as I step out of my bedroom for the first time.
We head down a narrow hallway that branches into two. As we walk, I try to think of something to say to Song—but every time I open my mouth, she smiles politely at me and then looks away in disinterest. I decide to stay quiet. We take another turn, and then abruptly stop before what seems like a solid wall and a line of pillars.
Song runs a hand along one side of a pillar, then pushes against the wall. I watch, stunned, as the wall swings aside to reveal a new hall behind it. "Come, lady Katara," she says over her shoulder. Dumbstruck, I follow her. The wall closes behind us, as if nothing had ever existed beyond it.
The longer we walk, the more curious I grow. The layout makes sense, of course. If this is a place where the Freedom Fighters stay—assassins wanted by the Empire—then they wouldn't have a door you could simply enter and exit straight from the street. The Freedom Fighters are a secret hidden behind the walls of another building. But what is this shop?
Song finally stops at a tall set of doors at the end of a hall. I suck in my breath. Now I know where I am.
This place is a tea shop?
The maid pulls the double doors open. We step into a gloriously decorated dining area with a door along its walls that likely leads into an office. Part of the room is open to a lush courtyard. Translucent lengths of silk drape low from the ceiling, stirring slightly, and trails of silver chimes sing in the breeze. The scent of jasmine hangs on the air.
Song knocks on the wooden door.
"Yes?" someone answers. Even muffled through the doorway, I can tell how unusually ancient that voice sounds.
Song bows her head, even though there's no one but me to witness it. "Lady Katara is here to see you."
Silence. Then I hear the soft shuffle of feet, and a moment later, the door opens. I find myself staring up at a kind looking old man.
Song nods a hurried farewell to us both, then disappears down the hall, leaving us alone. The old man smiles at me. "It's good to meet you, Katara. I'm Iroh. But you may call me Uncle."
"No one told me this place was a . . . a tea shop," I say.
"The Jasmine Dragon," Iroh specifies. "We have the best tea in all of Ba Sing Se."
"The Jasmine Dragon," I echo.
"Come, my child, sit with me. I have a few things to discuss with you." We move towards two chairs at the edge of his office.
"Now, this process can be very challenging for even the strongest of wills. Are you prepared to accept the challenges that come with being a Freedom Fighter? Do you go into this process willingly?"
"Yes" I answer simply.
"Well" Iroh sighs. "That will be all."
"Wait, that's it? There's nothing else?"
"My nephew's techniques may be a little unorthodox, but they are effective. There is nothing I can tell you that you will not discover soon enough."
"Your nephew? And what techniques? What am I-"
"Song!" He calls out. "Please escort Lady Katara to the others."
"But you haven't answered any of my questions. I don't really even know who you are."
"I am but a humble tea maker, Lady Katara." He smiles at me. "If you ever need someone to talk to, my doors are always open."
At that moment, Song steps into the room gesturing for me to follow behind her. When we are far enough away from Iroh, I dare to speak to her. "Who was that kind old man that spoke in riddles?"
"You must not speak of Master Iroh in such a disrespectful manner." She chastises. "He owns this tea shop and is uncle to the prince. Not to mention, he is said to be one of the most dangerous firebenders in the world."
"Are we speaking about the same old man? He seemed so jovial and kind. Nothing like those-"
"That is the first lesson you should learn here," she interrupts. "Many things are not as they appear to be."
We walk the rest of the way in cold silence. We continue down a tunnel until the darkness swallows us. Our footsteps echo. As we go, the ceiling seems to rise higher and higher. A cold, damp smell fills the air.
"How far does this go?" I whisper.
"Below the streets of Ba Sing Se lie the crystal catacombs."
The catacombs. I shiver.
"These tunnels lead all across the city," she continues. "There are so many tunnels of them under the city that a great number have been forgotten over the ages."
We arrive at a large slab of rock. I think we've reached a dead end when Song begins knocking against it. Within a few moments, the earth is rumbling as the slab of rock seemingly melts into the ground. So, her knocks were a password.
I stare into the barely lit room of the catacombs, almost paralyzed with fear.
"Be brave," Song whispers. Then she nudges me forward and begins to walk away.
An enormous cavern the size of a ballroom looms before me. Glowing green gems on the walls illuminate pools of water that have collected along the floor. The walls are lined with stone archways and pillars that look like they were carved centuries ago, most standing tall, some collapsed and scattered on the ground. Glowing reflections of pale light on the water float, webbed and shifting, against the stone. Everything takes on a greenish cast in here. I can hear the drip of water coming from somewhere far away.
But what really catches my attention is the small half circle of people waiting down here for me. Aside from Zuko, there are three of them. Each is turned in my direction. Their expressions are hard to read, eerie in the dim light. I try to gauge their ages. They must be about my age. One guy is tall and muscular, a piece of straw between his teeth, two hooked swords hang from his sides that seem like they could rip a man to pieces. Beside him is a boy who looks willowy and thin, with a hand resting easily on a staff. He's the only one who nods at me in greeting. A big-eyed lemur monkey perches on his shoulder. I smile back hesitantly, my stare fixed nervously on the lemur monkey. Beside him stands a girl who looks small and slight. She crosses her arms and regards me with a slight tilt to her head, and her eyes seem cold and curious. She appears to be looking at me with milky green eyes, but not really looking at me at all. She's blind, I realize. My smile fades.
Front and center before them stands Zuko, his hands folded behind his back, and his gaze fixed unwaveringly on me. Gone is the hint of mischief in him that I saw when we first talked in my chamber. Today, his expression is hard and unforgiving, the young prince replaced with a cold-blooded assassin. The cavern's strange lighting casts a shadow over his eyes.
I stop a few feet away from them. Zuko addresses the group. "This is Katara," he says, his voice clear and dtermined. "Our newest potential recruit. She's a waterbender."
I feel I should speak, but I'm not sure what to say. So I simply face them with as much courage as I can muster.
Zuko takes a step closer to me. The others remain still. "You are the first waterbending recruit we've had. But you have only bended when you have feared for your life." He narrows his eyes. "Today, we will attempt to access that fear and find a way for you to call upon your bending as you wish. Do you accept?"
Do I have a choice? After a moment's silence, I lift my chin. "Yes, Your Highness."
Zuko gives me an approving nod. "Then we shall use everything within our powers to evoke yours."
The fact that I'm standing alone sends a spike of uncertainty through my chest. The others talk in low voices among themselves. I look around the half circle of their faces, searching for help, but the only kindness I get comes from the boy with the lemur monkey on his shoulder. He sees my anxiety and gives me a subtle, encouraging nod. I try to latch on to that.
Zuko raises one hand in the air. "Let's begin." Then he snaps his fingers—and every torchlight in the cavern flickers out at once.
The room goes dark, lit only by the hazy light of the gems.
For a second, I panic. I feel completely blind. I look wildly around, blinking. Nothing but silence. Then, occasionally, a gust of cold wind—a murmur of breath—an echoing footstep. My heart pounds. Please, let there be a little light. I squint hard into the darkness, trying to force my sight to adjust.
Right as I'm able to make out the faint outlines of the cavern floor, I notice that all of the Fighters are gone.
Suddenly, Zuko's voice comes from somewhere in the darkness. "Reaper. Bandit." Its deepness now frightens me.
I tense. Nothing happens.
Then, out of nowhere, the ground beneath me begins to shake. So much so, that I can barely keep my balance. And small rocks begin to fall from the ceiling ahead, obscuring what little vision I did have. I use my arms to cover my head and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Someone large shoves me violently backward. I go flying, then fall hard to the ground. The blow knocks all the wind out of me. I gasp for air. A sharp metal edge slices across my upper arm—I cry out, my arms flying up in defense, but another cut slits open the skin of my other arm. Warm blood trickles out. I turn my head frantically from side to side. Where is my attacker? I can't see a thing. Someone kicks me in the back. I arch at the sharp pain. Another kick—and then the feeling of rough hands grabbing me by my robe, hauling me up in the air. I grasp desperately for my bending, wishing I could pull it from deep within. But nothing happens. As I struggle, a low growl of a voice comes from somewhere in front of my face.
"What waterbender?" Reaper snaps. "She's weak."
I clench my teeth and struggle, kicking out with my legs. I strike only air, and collapse to the floor.
One lantern flickers on in the cavern—its glow catches me off guard—and I squint in its direction. I glance around. A short distance away is the large boy, who must be Reaper, and the girl with the milky eyes. Elsewhere, standing by pillars and walls in the shadows, I notice others. Thin trickles of blood drip down my arms. The cuts look smaller than I expect, considering how much they sting. They're not even trying, I think feverishly. They're toying with me.
The light vanishes. My vision adjusts faster this time—and in the darkness, I can see the faint silhouette of the Reaper crouching. He attacks again. This time, he rushes at me with terrifying speed and disappears from view right before he can reach me.
He materializes on my right side. Then he catches me around the neck before I can stop him. His arm tightens, choking me. I struggle. "Pathetic," he says.
I throw an elbow as hard as I can. He must not have expected me to fight back, because I hit him hard in his throat. He gags, releasing me again. I fall to my knees, gasping. Reaper whirls around, his eyes narrowed at me in rage, and I brace myself for another attack.
"Enough," Zuko says quietly. The word is a low, disapproving command that emerges from the shadows.
Reaper steps away from me. I crumple in relief, sucking up air in the darkness. The torchlights all flicker on again. We stare at each other—the Fighter's eyes green and gruff, mine wide and stricken. I don't feel anything in my chest except for the pounding of my heart.
Then Reaper straightens and sheathes his blades. He doesn't bother helping me up. "Weakling," he says, his voice full of disdain. "Should've left you to the Guard and saved us all the trouble." He turns away from me.
A spark of anger shoots through me. I imagine what it would be like if I strangled him in return, my ice daggers piercing every inch of his body and my water drowning him. "Coward," I whisper to his back. He doesn't hear me, but the short girl—The Blind Bandit, I suppose—does. She blinks.
A moment later, Zuko raises his voice. "Windwalker."
Windwalker? I look around the cavern, searching for my next opponent. Finally, I catch a glimpse of him. He's the tall, friendly guy, the one with the shaved head and blue tattoos. He stares at me apologetically. "Sorry," he says to me with his eyes.
My breathing is too rapid. Calm down. Focus. But the force of the last attack has left me trembling, and the anticipation of what might come next sends prickles of terror down my skin.
Suddenly I feel myself lifted off the ground by an invisible curtain of wind. Windwalker's arms are stretched out in my direction. He lifts me higher, then makes a cutting gesture with one hand. Wind rushes past my ears—I fly across the chamber. My back hits the wall hard. I crumple to the ground like a broken doll. I can't do this. I curl into a ball as Windwalker comes closer.
I can't take it anymore. My anger rises—I reach for the energy just out of my grasp. My father's ghost hovers before me. Disoriented, I let out a strangled cry and claw at the open air.
My hand strikes something. Suddenly the wind around me stops. To my shock, Windwalker is hunched several feet away, holding his neck. A thin trickle of blood runs down his hand where I'd raked him with my fingernails. With a start, I realize that I must have struck him in my delirium when I thought I was striking at my father. The rage inside me still churns, a black, seething fury, almost within my reach.
I grit my teeth at him. "Is that it?" I suddenly snap. "Attacking me while I'm defenseless?"
Windwalker stares at me in silence. Then he removes his hand to show me the gash I've caused. "You're far from defenseless." Several thin lines are scored into the skin of his throat. Without a word, he walks over and helps me onto my trembling feet.
"Not too bad," Bandit interjects from across the cavern, without a hint of malice in her voice. "You like being provoked. I can tell."
Gradually, my anger fades into bewilderment. Did she just compliment me?
Windwalker leaves me. All around the cavern, the others whisper among themselves, their voices echoing in the empty space. Finally, Zuko steps forward, his hands folded calmly behind his back.
"Better." He tightens his lips. "But not enough."
I wait there, swaying on my feet, regaining my breath. His eyes sear me to the bone, bringing with them a wave of terror and excitement.
"The problem, Katara," he says as he approaches me, "is that you simply aren't afraid."
My heartbeat quickens. "I am afraid," I whisper. But my words sound unconvincing. What is he going to do to me?
"You know your life is not at risk," he continues. "You don't embrace your bending unless you are staring straight at death. Therefore, you cannot connect with it." He unfolds his hands from behind his back. "Let me see if we can correct that."
A ring of fire bursts to life around us, turning the dark cavern into an illuminated space. The flames stretch to the ceiling. I jump away in terror at the heat against my skin. A scream threatens to bubble up from my throat. No. No, no. Not fire. Anything but that. All I can see are Zuko's eyes locked on mine, bright and determined. So much fire.
I'm not tied to the stake. I'm okay. I'm okay. But I don't believe myself. We are back at my burning—the Guard is going to kill me in front of everyone, happy to watch fire consume me in punishment for my father's death. Tui and La save me. Suddenly, the attacks from the other Freedom Fighters pale in comparison. The flames feel like they're closing in. They are closing in. I can't breathe.
He is forcing me to relive the feeling of staring straight at death.
Zuko reaches me. As flames roar all around us, he leans close enough for me to feel the heat of his body through his robes, the sheer power hidden underneath. The fear that has been building in my chest since the Reaper first attacked me now rushes through me in an unstoppable current, turning my limbs numb. One of his hands touches the small of my back. A violent, irresistible wave of heat emanates from his touch and pulses through my body, scalding me. The flames around us lick at the edges of my sleeves—I watch in terror as the fabric curls, blackening. Everything about Zuko whispers of danger, of murder in the name of righteousness. I'm desperate to pull away. I ache for more. I tremble uncontrollably, caught in the middle.
"I know what you, Katara." His breath scorches the skin of my exposed neck. "Nurture the fear you feel right now. Use it to your advantage."
I try to concentrate, but all I can feel is the heat. The stake, the pile of wood at my feet. The eyes of my dead father, forever haunting my dreams. You are a killer, his ghost whispers. But how many have the Guard killed? How many more will they kill? Wouldn't I have been one of the Guard's victims, had the Freedom Fighters not come to my rescue?
With the fire all around us, with Zuko's hand hot against my back, with his words in my ears and my body still trembling from the others' attacks, the combination of my fear, hatred, anger, and desire finally fuse into one. I can feel the uncontrollable power growing inside me, it rushes through me in waves. Millions of threads that connect me to the water, and I can feel it all, the water seeping through the cracks in the rocks, the sweat dripping off the tip of Zuko's brow. The water calls to me to me, eager for my command. I close my eyes, open my heart to the feeling, and soak in the delight of it all.
"Show me what you can do," Zuko whispers.
Pools of water begin rise up from all around, they gather around us, floating higher and higher, until they reach the cavern's ceiling. Instantly, they freeze covering the entire ceiling. The temperature of the room drops dramatically and snow begins to fall. I'm swept away, both giddy with joy at the feeling of power and terrified that I am completely helpless to it.
Zuko removes his hand.
The sudden lack of contact distracts me, and in a flash, the water falls back to the Earth in it's normal state. Zuko's columns of fire vanish. We're back in the heavy silence of the cavern, as if nothing had happened. My shoulders droop from the effort. Without the fire, the space has returned to its eerie green glow. I glance at the others. They look stricken.
Zuko steps away from me. I sway on weak legs. If I didn't know better, I'd say he seems surprised himself.
All I know is that I want to do it again. I want Zuko to touch me. I want to feel that flow of power, and I want to see the other Fighters' intimidation.
I want something more.
A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the delayed update, but here ya go!I hope you enjoyed reading!
For all of you who mentioned the Young Elites, you're completely right! I loved that book so much and I think Marie Lu is an amazing writer! Her story really inspired me to write this.
Until next time! And I can't wait to hear from you! :)