Chapter 6 - The First Betrayal
—
Kun De Year of the Borcupine, Eighth Month
2 years later
—
The fire snapped quietly along the logs, throwing up sparks on occasion. These disappeared up the flue or caught on the back of the fire-case, creating a hundred brilliant stars that died just as quickly.
Kanzagan's eyes followed each one, from the moment of its birth to the moment of its death. And in his meditative mood, he considered each spark one person. One Fire Nation citizen, burning up in a mere second of his life. How poetic, he mused, that he would let his thoughts dwell on the flames tonight, and relate them back to his own people. Or perhaps how cliché. Yojing would have told him that. His old companion had not been an avid lover of prose.
He heard the door creak open, but he didn't stand. He didn't even look up, casually sipping his rice wine as his eyes continued to follow the snapping tongues of the fire. The person made no attempts to hide his entrance; the soles of his soft leather boots knocked against the marble floor before he paused to remove them. Eventually, the figure entered the firelight, and Kanzagan craned his head to gaze at him.
Nizan took a seat in the empty chair next to him, folding his legs underneath him as he did so. A good, proper gentleman. And handsome—his vibrant yellow eyes flashed with the fire, his chin sharp, strong. Everything about him was strong.
Kanzagan finally straightened in his own short-back chair, setting the rice wine on its connected table as his other hand caressed its bronze décor. Made in the Fire Nation, and just as strong as everything else made there.
"How are you, father?" Nizan asked stiffly, resting his hands on his knees. Kanzagan gave him a strained, bemused smile.
"I've had better days. But I'm glad to see you home." Nizan nodded, as if he expected such an answer. Or as if he wasn't listening at all.
"My tour ended four months ago, but I thought I would take a few extra months of training with Great Sage Himizu." It was an explanation for why he had chosen not to come home, but Kanzagan already knew. He'd tried to prevent it—had been fighting for years, in fact, to find another teacher for Nizan. But Fire Princes were trained by the Great Sages, according to tradition. And Nizan, though strong in body, had always been weak in mind.
"At least you're here now." Tall, proud. Dark in his red, princely robes. The very image of what a future Fire Lord should be.
"Father," Nizan hesitated, for the first time showing some doubt. "You've heard what I've done." For a moment, he actually sounded like his little boy. "To the Northern Water Tribe."
Kanzagan slowly nodded, picking up his drink once more. "The reports came to me yesterday. I've been waiting to hear it from you, though."
"Well," Nizan said, but didn't elaborate. They fell into a silence that stretched for far too long, broken only by the snapping logs.
"You know," Kanzagan finally spoke, his eyes once more on the fire. "We don't talk a lot about our family; I haven't taught you all the history that I should've. But I wanted to remind you of another story from a long time ago, when a head-strong Fire Prince and a young Water Tribe Princess eloped. Do you remember that story, Nizan?"
"I don't spend a lot of time dwelling on the past. While one can learn from it, he runs the risk of losing himself to it. Something that I can't afford to do."
Kanzagan humphed at the tired excuse. It was the same excuse that the Nation in general used. All because no one really wanted to remember what had happened.
"And as you know, if you don't remember the past, you are destined to repeat it." He wasn't trying to argue. Nizan knew exactly what he was talking about – quite possibly agreed. But he wanted to make sure the boy had drawn the parallel.
"Would you even like to know why I did it?" Nizan's voice sounded plaintive, even if his face did not show the emotion. A child trying to get his father's approval. Kanzagan looked at him sharply, his heart almost breaking. Haven't I given you that and more?
"I know why. The opportunity presented itself, and you had to take it."
"But don't you want to know why I seized the oppor—"
"I know why you did that, too." Kanzagan didn't shout in order to interrupt him. Didn't really need to. Nizan grew quiet at the sudden appearance of his father's temper. "I'm sure Himizu has told you that this is the new age. Our chance to return power to the people, where it belongs. And this is the only way to do it."
Nizan remained quiet, leading Kanzagan to the conclusion he'd come upon the correct reasoning. Though it wasn't a surprise. He knew everything his son did was now dictated by Himizu. And as he had finally solved the mystery surrounding Yojing's murder, a year ago nearly to the day, he knew exactly what Himizu had planned.
"There is only one obstacle left," he continued with his own thoughts, though he knew Nizan could easily follow. The boy looked up with curiosity as well as dread. "Hikoshu."
Slowly, Nizan nodded, unfolding his feet to the floor. "The Avatar."
"And, by default, me." This gave his son pause, his feet caught halfway between the chair and the marble. "I'm the only thing standing between you and the Avatar."
"You don't have to, father," Nizan said, again his tone turned pleading. "Just call him back. Don't stand in the way." Kanzagan glanced at his face, and saw sincere sadness there. At least his son would mourn.
Kanzagan gave a single laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he sipped at his drink. "Have my guards already been dismissed?"
"Before I came into the room." So somber—but resolute. Such a strong boy.
"Are you to do it?"
"No. It would bring disaster on my reign." Kanzagan laughed again and finished off his cup. Smart boy, too. Or was that just Himizu speaking?
"Then let me have the honor of my own death. At least give me that much in the after-life."
Nizan nodded, rising slowly to his feet. "Make it clean. For the funeral." Under his words, Kanzagan could hear another message. Make it clean, so that it wouldn't hurt for very long. Or perhaps he only wanted to read such mercy in his son's voice.
Nizan walked to his side, leaned low, and kissed his forehead. It was a small gesture, but Kanzagan detected true love. His son would mourn, at least. And even as Nizan gave him a death sentence, Kanzagan forgave him. After all, his son's body was strong, but his mind—and heart—were weak.
He would have to be strong for both of them.
xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx
Himizu assumed it had been done. Nizan looked an unhealthy yellow color, his face warped somewhere between an expression of horror and nausea. He had entered with little ceremony and now paced before the shrine, irreverent of the scroll that commemorated a past Great Sage. Perhaps, Himizu thought, it would visit ill-luck on them all. But Nizan was not a Sage and would not know how to properly respect the spirits, anyway. So he allowed the young Prince to continue his pacing, merely moving the ceremonial tea bowl out of his path.
It went on like that for some time, Nizan chewing on the inside of his thumb as his dark red cloak swept in a trail behind him. Himizu even had to drop his gaze to the floor after a while; Nizan was starting to make him dizzy.
Eventually, there was a knock on the door. Himizu gave the person permission to enter, and Nizan stopped abruptly, his face turning ashen as he looked to the portal.
The entourage entered, as he had expected. Three soldiers—generals, rather. Zhen, Guo, Li-yan. Some of Kanzagan's closest advisors. Himizu studied them over his shoulder, choosing not to stand. It wouldn't matter. They were just making the formal declaration, and everyone currently in the room knew it was only a matter of ceremony. Just a matter of keeping an appropriate appearance.
"The Fire Lord Kanzagan is dead," Zhen said after clearing his throat. "Hail Fire Lord Nizan."
Silence sat on the room, the thin wisps of Himizu's incense the only movement among the five men. Then, slowly, Nizan nodded. They had already discussed this moment. Discussed the next steps to be taken.
"Great Sage Himizu," Nizan said, looking down at him. "Would you begin preparations for the funeral? General Zhen," the General gave a respectful bow at the address, "I want you to arrange for distribution of the news to the Fire Islands. Please," he hesitated, closing his eyes as if trying to remember what he needed to do, "wait to release the news until I've talked to Admiral Kuzon."
At their proper instructions, the three generals bowed once more and exited. They now had their duties. They would be in charge of letting everyone know what happened to Kanzagan. Or at least let them know the official story. The military was very good at controlling news, as Himizu had assured Nizan. As long as Zhen was in charge, they would handle the situation for him.
"This is going well," Himizu said soon after the door closed. "But we have to act fast now." Surrendering the duty of prayer, he pushed himself slowly to his feet, his knees hurting where he had sat too long in one position. "They'll spin the story that we want, but there are people very close to Kanzagan who will know the truth behind what happened."
Nizan blanched all over again and looked at his hands in horror. "They'll know what I've done."
Himizu suppressed a wave of irritation, reminding himself that the boy had just killed his own father. He had counted on there being repercussions, not just for his plans but also for the Prince emotionally. It would take some care to get Nizan beyond this.
"They'll know what Kanzagan has done," Himizu corrected, seizing Nizan's chin to draw his attention back to him. "They'll try to continue what he left unfinished. Nizan, listen," he hissed sharply, trying to make his yellow eyes focus on him. "They'll try to force the Avatar farther from us. If we want to act, we must act now."
Nizan nodded, pulling himself out of Himizu's hand. "I know. We'll lose our chance if we're not quick."
"Keep focused on that." He moved for his desk, set in a small recess in the chamber wall. There were various scrolls on its top, though he easily found a small, blank messenger scroll tucked behind an ink stone. "We must send a message to the Western Air Temple immediately, before one of the neutralists thinks to do the same. With the official seal of the Fire Nation," he gestured Nizan over to the desk and held the scroll flat against the lacquered wood, "the Avatar will be more likely to listen to us, anyway."
Nizan obeyed, throwing a curious look to Himizu as he took up a brush. "What about the envoy?"
"Three ships. You'll contact Admiral Kuzon, who'll in turn send someone with enough finesse to negotiate the Avatar's return. Hopefully, they'll arrive before the neutralists think of a way to counter our efforts."
Scratching out characters as Himizu talked, Nizan eagerly nodded. "Are we certain Kuzon will find others sympathetic to our cause?" He looked up at Himizu's obvious hesitation, doubt returning to his eyes. "We aren't?"
"Kuzon doesn't have the same intentions," Himizu finally admitted in careful tones. "Being an isolationist, he may have other plans. But I believe his goals are the same as ours for now." The isolationists—the group that favored a tight rein on the Avatar. They were just as eager to get Hikoshu back to the Fire Nation as Himizu was. And he knew that, given this golden opportunity, they would agree. Especially if, as hoped, the campaign he was spear-heading until now had remained clandestine.
"What should I tell Admiral Kuzon about my…?" Nizan's voice cracked on what would have been the word 'father,' and his brush paused over the paper. Then he quickly recovered, writing once more. "...about the former Fire Lord? News won't be circulated until after I inform him."
"Tell him everything you know. Which should be nothing at all." Himizu moved away from the desk, allowing him to finish up the letter on his own. Nizan knew what he needed to say. "Tell him that you've been informed of your father's passing. Mention that your father's dying wish was for the Avatar to attend his funeral."
On the wall opposite him hung a silk brocade, showing the line of the Fire Lords since the Divergence. Himizu paused before it and closely examined it as he spoke. "He'll doubt the truth of your words, but he'll see the opportunity."
Every Fire Lord, since the time of the Divergence of the Flames. When the Great Sage Sota had chosen to take on the title of Fire Lord and Supreme Ruler of the Fire Nation. Himizu followed each branch carefully, noting its strange turns and detours, how it sometimes broke and rejoined. Kanzagan's name was near the bottom – his line, too, was broken. Himizu sighed and pressed his finger to Kanzagan's name, the silk smoldering under his touch. When he pulled his hand away, there was a black mark where the name had been.
A new Divergence was coming, though he had no idea what kind it would be. But he would bring it about. The world was going to change now.
xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx
Hikoshu stood with his legs bent, his body turned slightly to the side and his hands splayed in front of him as if to ward off an attack. It was a defensive stance, alert and receptive to any aggression. Yet the enemy before him stood in much the same way, the hem of her copious orange robe tucked into the cloth belt around her waist, revealing loose fitting pants below.
There was only a moment of hesitation, when they both watched each other. And then abruptly the entire scene changed. Nin-ma reached under her belt, yanking out her familiar cream-colored fans. The movement was so fast, Hikoshu didn't have time to respond. He wasn't even able to react when she swung the fans at him, a gust of wind knocking him off his feet.
He managed to twist into a back handspring, though the position was too awkward and he tumbled to the ground, rolling onto his shoulder. Hikoshu couldn't see Nin-ma, but he knew she was attacking. Quickly, he jumped again to his feet, landing low on the ground, and swung his legs, producing a blast of air that radiated outward.
But there was no Nin-ma.
It shouldn't have confused him—he should've known better. And the moment it took him to realize where she was cost him any advantage. As he jerked his head up, he only saw her delicate woven shoe slamming into his face.
Even when attacking, airbenders were delicate, and she bounced off his head as if she were jumping on a cloud. Hikoshu, on the other hand, was plowed into the ground again, hitting the pavement hard. And another blast she must've directed at the stone lifted him up and hurtled him forward.
He gave a cry of frustration as he landed once more, his shoulder taking the full impact as he attempted to roll to his knees. No time to think. He just swung his arms upward, sending a gust of wind that should have flattened Nin-ma. If she were there.
"Stop attacking and start defending!" she shouted from behind him, and he felt pain surge through his head as she cuffed him with the staff which she must've retrieved. He forced himself into a roll, coming up several feet away. "Do not try to stop me from attacking. Stop me from hitting you!"
To defend, he had to find his bearings. To find his bearings, he had to be away from her. But she was everywhere and nowhere, all at the same time. He didn't even see where the next air blast came from. One moment, he was scanning the training court for her. A moment later, he was on his back, the sky a harsh, blinding blue above him.
The sky washed out everything, and for a moment it even washed out the silhouetted shape that suddenly appeared above him. Hikoshu squinted at the approaching form, unable to register it in the split second he needed to make a counter-move. And it was probably the only reason he avoided being hit.
The silhouette became Nin-ma, her now-loose robes flying around her, her hair pulled tight against her neck in a bun. She plummeted head-first toward him, and clutched in her hands, held out in front of her and aimed squarely for his chest, was her staff.
Instinctively, he reached up, and the glider contacted his open palms with a sharp, audible snap. Nin-ma blocked out the sky above him, her brows knitted together in concentration as she started to react to this new predicament.
But it was still too slow for Hikoshu's own reaction. He felt energy well into his hands as he reflexively lashed out. Nin-ma didn't even have time to express her surprise at the sudden change. The gale that smashed into her was enough to rip her hands off the staff, and she shot back up into the air like a thrown doll.
By the time she landed gently on the pavement, Hikoshu was up and on his feet, staff gripped defensively at his side. Gracefully, Nin-ma swung her hands out in front of her, once more assuming the standard airbender stance.
"Better, Hikoshu."
In response, he threw the staff at her feet, letting out a huff. To be honest, he was inwardly surprised at himself. His initial reaction was to hit her with a blast of fire. In fact, that was what he'd felt build in his hands the moment before he launched her into the sky. Why it changed to air at the last second was a mystery to him.
"Not bad for four years of training, huh?" He was being sarcastic, but the truth of matter was hardly anything to laugh at. Four years and so little to show for it. Mastering the elements was proving to be a slow, arduous task. He was twenty-two and barely even able to threaten a nun in early training. It'd take the rest of his life to learn the other two elements.
"On the contrary." Nin-ma attempted to straighten her hair, which had come undone from its clean knot. "The point of airbending, as you know, is to defend-"
"Defend, I know," he said over her. "No fatal blows, no finishing moves, nothing to actually stop an enemy from attacking."
"Nothing ever stops an enemy from attacking," Nin-ma said, her voice suddenly turning very serious. She walked to her meditation dais and sat down, taking the time to arrange her robes around her. "There is a formal fight in the Fire Nation, is there not? A sort of duel."
"The Agni Kai," Hikoshu said, moving to sit in front of her. "It's an answer to acts of dishonor—a way to settle conflict between two men." His pants rode up as he crossed his legs, and he even had to pull at his sleeves to hide his wrists. The orange and yellow training uniform was one he had received four years ago upon arriving at the Temple. Since then, he had grown a few inches.
"Or two women, I've heard on occasion," the nun continued, surprising him. Even he didn't know about a women Agni Kai. "But the point of this duel—this Agni Kai—is for men of the noble families to settle disputes without resorting to bloodshed. Now, what do you think the poor do? Or the fishing villages? How does a peasant settle fights?"
"Mediation, I suppose, depending on what country it is," he said, even more confused. "Laws and customs, things to keep people from acting inappropriately."
Nin-ma hesitated before speaking, and he guessed she must have realized how lost he was feeling. "Now how about you? You are outside of all countries and you fight your own battles. What if someone wishes to fight you?"
"Well, if I chose not to fight, they'd have a hard time doing so, wouldn't they?"
She sighed, glancing wearily at the sky as if to judge the time of day. "Hikoshu...the Agni Kai ends with a finishing blow. What happens if there is no finishing blow?" Ridiculous, he thought. There was always a finishing blow. That was the point of the Agni Kai. Again, she continued. "In life, there is no finishing blow. The enemy will continue to attack, because nothing stops him. No court, no council, no mediator, and certainly no referee. You must learn how to defend against an eternal attack. Because you can't stop them from attacking unless death stops them first."
Those last words hung on the air, tingeing the gentle breeze that tugged at their robes. Hikoshu started to argue but found he had no argument to present. Really, he had never considered what would happen in a real fight; all spars, both firebending and airbending, ended when someone declared it over. But if there was someone intent on defeating him out there in the world, what was he going to do? Quietly, he shut his mouth, staring at her. Her jaw was set in grim determination, and she didn't answer his silent question.
The awkward solitude was broken by a screech. Hikoshu's eyes shot up to the sky, searching quickly for the source of the noise. It was a relief just to break eye contact with Nin-ma for a moment, but in reality, there was something familiar about the sound that drew his attention away from the conversation.
There. Just as he suspected, a silhouette against the blue swooped above them. The bird was large – far larger than the squirrel-sparrows he had grown accustomed to – and its graceful tail split into two, long feathers.
"It seems the Fire Nation has an urgent message for us," Nin-ma said, and Hikoshu suddenly became aware that she had also spied the hawk. "Only they would send a bird-of-prey to do the work of a messenger."
"Am I excused then?" Perhaps he sounded a little too eager. But his stomach was starting to make embarrassing noises, which were uncomfortably loud in the quiet of the courtyard.
Nin-ma pushed herself to her feet, foregoing her usual delicate glide. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed him. "Yes, of course. But be back within the hour. The afternoon is young." He could tell her attention was no longer on him. Her eyes barely left the bird as she headed for the cloisters. Above her, the hawk had dipped around the highest spire of the Northern Sanctuary and was sweeping toward the nearby squirrel-sparrow loft.
Left alone in the yard, Hikoshu only hesitated for a moment before directing himself toward the kitchens. Nin-ma had given him a lot to think about, but seeing as he'd be back in an hour, he could think about it then. After all, contemplation was almost impossible on an empty stomach.
xXxXxxxXXxxxXxXx
"So the message was from the Fire Nation?" Miyo said, her arms resting across her lap. In her left hand was a ball of rice that she had been nibbling on absently, sticky grains coming loose between her fingers.
Hikoshu barely nodded from his position against the colonnade. He idly tossed a half-eaten apple core between his hands as his gaze swept out along the hillside. In front of them, the cliff jutted upward to form a haphazard rock garden, short craggy walls of stone bordering lines of bushes and flowers the nuns had managed to grow in the poor soil. Much further out, the cliff dropped off steeply, leading to the kitchens set in a crevice below the Temple. Beyond that was the ocean, its waters a deep anonymous blue from their height.
"Do you know what it says?"
He shrugged, watching as a solitary lemur crossed the rock garden in trepidation and moved slowly toward them. The lemurs of the island were half-tamed, but they all still seemed fairly distrustful of him. Which was alright, because he was pretty sure he was still distrustful of them.
"Surely they told you something!" Miyo sounded incredulous, and he turned his gaze back to her. The nun's hair fell free around her shoulders, dancing gently in the breeze that swept through the corridor. Her orange robes were tucked up under her legs where she sat along the bench. And her expression was clouded, calculating. As if there were some mystery she needed to solve.
"Relax, Miyo, it hasn't even been an hour since the message arrived. I'm sure if it's important, I'll know." Well, he wasn't sure of that. But it didn't really concern him too much. What could the Fire Nation possibly say that would cause him to worry?
Miyo still didn't seem satisfied. She gave an aggravated huff and glanced down the corridor as if in anticipation of a messenger. The corridor was long, curving upward out of sight as it continued along the cliff face and toward the main body of the Temple. It had no walls—rather it was open to gardens on both sides, lined by benches and periodic colonnades such as the one he rested on. They were essentially ways to walk from one point to another during inclement weather. Not that they'd had inclement weather in some time.
"But the Fire Nation, Hikoshu! They haven't sent a messenger hawk in nearly a year. Don't you think that's a little strange?"
Well, yes, of course he thought that was strange. The Fire Nation had ceased trade talks with the Air Temple well over a year ago, when Omashu had assumed total control of the Strait. He supposed this message could have been another attempt to open those discussions, but without any formal excuse, a message from the Fire Nation was quite an anomaly. Still, the message was most likely for some mundane reason. Nothing to worry over.
Miyo picked at her wilting rice ball, though her thoughts were obviously elsewhere. "What if the message is for you, Hikoshu?"
The crumbling rice ball abruptly brought an idea to mind. "Hey, watch this!" Brightening, he shoved the apple core between his teeth and held his hands up above his head, palms toward the ground. Then, wriggling his fingers, he created a shower of gold sparks that floated to the earth like glittering stars.
"Hikoshu!" Miyo snapped, dropping her rice ball into her lap. "Stop that!"
He stared at her with wide, almost hurt eyes as he let his hands fall, taking the apple sullenly from his mouth. "What, you didn't like it?"
"Well, I'd like it even more if we weren't in the middle of a drought," she said with thorough irritation. "One wayward breeze, and you could have set the entire Temple on fire."
"I think I can firebend safely enough for that."
"As I was saying." She threw fistfuls of rice into the rock garden, allowing the lemur and one of its more adventuresome friends to pick at the fallen grains. "What if the Fire Nation wants you to move on to waterbending? What if they think you've been here too long?"
"How horrible," he said, tossing his apple core out into the garden. A lemur screeched in protest as it briefly took to the air. "Just think about it. I'll get to eat savory, tender meat for the first time in four years."
"Hikoshu…"
"Meat that just falls off the bone. Meat that's been stewing in its own meaty juices for hours before I can sink my teeth into it."
"That's just disgusting."
He shot her a grin despite her grimace and leaned back against the colonnade. "And men. I'll see men. And not just any men, but manly men who hunt and kill things with their bare hands."
"Oh, yes, sweaty, violent men…"
"Yes! For once. And girls. Not nun-girls, either, but real girls who'll giggle and flirt with you at the slightest provocation."
"Those are the kind of girls you want?" Miyo said, suddenly bristling. Hikoshu glanced at her from behind the cloud of his daydreams, realizing then he needed to backtrack.
"Well…you know, not necessarily. But what are my prospects here? Sixteen-year-old girls who haven't yet devoted themselves to some tenet about the sanctity of life?"
The young airbender rolled her eyes, brushing off the remaining rice in her robe. "Well, we're real girls, too. Just keep that in mind."
"Whatever you say."
They lapsed into silence, both their gazes directed across the rock garden and toward the ocean. Hazy white clouds gathered on the horizon, melding with the water into an indistinct gray. Hikoshu could now barely recall ever crossing it. Nor could he really imagine crossing it again. As a child on the rocky shores of Tansasi, his world hadn't been much further than his village. Now, once more, he found himself limited to an expanse of cliffs that seemed alone on the infinite waters.
"It's the story of the Morning-crest," Miyo said abruptly, drawing a surprised look from him. For a moment, he assumed she referred to his own thoughts, which confused him even more.
"What?"
Miyo waved at the ceiling of the walkway, and Hikoshu noted that the beams directly beneath the ceiling, on both sides, bore detailed artwork that extended in either direction as far as the eye could see. He gave a perfunctory glance at the art.
"What's the story?"
"A young Air Nomad woman who loved a Water Tribesman so fiercely that she ignored customs and ran away to be with him." Her eyes glazed over as she recounted the tale, a wistful smile coming to her face. "When she arrived, he'd been killed during a hunt, and she became enraged. But an elderly Water Tribeswoman took her to his burial site, showing her a single white flower that grew on his grave. A morning-crest."
As she spoke, Hikoshu could easily follow the story, painted elegantly on the beam across from them. The white-faced Nomad, bearing her orange-robe regalia, and the dark-skinned Tribeswoman, standing before a snowy grave marked by one delicate flower. "She vowed never to marry and to dedicate her life to achieving enlightenment, when she could understand such suffering."
"Fascinating."
"Oh, I'm sorry, was I boring you?" She started to sound irate again, and Hikoshu shrugged uncomfortably at the scolding he was probably about to receive.
"Well…honestly, think about it. First of all, Water Tribesmen don't bury their dead—they have ocean funerals."
"How do you know—?"
"And flowers can't grow in snow. They'd freeze up."
Miyo was fully glaring now. "Don't you think true love can overcome some physical barriers?"
Hikoshu threw up a hand in surrender. "Well, I don't know about that. But I'm sorry—I'd hardly call a story where someone dies a romance. It's just not romantic so much as it is tragic. Besides, don't you think a story where the lover dies is kind of old?"
"Of all the ignorant, self—"
They were fortunately interrupted by a blur of orange landing in the center of the garden, sending three smaller lemurs into a panic toward the two benders. They threw up their arms at the same time to avoid the beating wings of the furry animals.
"Hikoshu!" the orange blob said forcefully, and Hikoshu lowered his arms to spy Chian in the garden.
He didn't really like Chian.
She spun her glider, forcing the wing devices to slide back into place, and used the now plain wooden staff as a walking stick as she moved brusquely over the stones. Her graying hair was wild from the flight and her robes in some disarray; she had to be in some sort of hurry not to have pulled her hair back or folded her robes properly for flying.
Even before she had reached the corridor, she was glowering at Miyo. "Why aren't you at devotional?" A look of recollection and horror flashed over Miyo's face, and she quickly jumped to her feet. "Go, before I let the other Elders know where you are."
Miyo muttered a quick farewell to Hikoshu and was gone before he could respond likewise, bending the air around her to run faster up the long corridor, her robes whipping behind her. He watched her go with some regret before turning his gaze back to his new company.
Chian didn't give him any time to speak, suddenly grabbing his arm from across the bench border. "Nin-ma needs you. Right now."
Hikoshu recoiled in offense and yanked his arm from her grip. "What's wrong? Where is she?" Chian scowled at the sudden movement, reaching to take him again.
"I don't have time to explain, nor do I see why I should. Come on. She'll tell you in our study."
"Well, I'm not leaving until—"
"Don't be a fool! If it weren't important, do you think I'd be here?"
Hikoshu stared at her, his concern growing by leaps. She was right. If it weren't important, Nin-ma would have sent a younger nun or a novice. An Elder, however…there was something terribly wrong. A sense of urgency surfaced inside him, and warning bells sounded in his ears.
Chian had held out her hand again. "Come, step into the garden. You're heavy, but we can use my glider."
"What?" Hikoshu pulled back once more, this time stepping away from the woman. "Wh—no. Thank you, but I can walk."
"Nonsense. Walking will take far too long. She needs you now." Chian spun her glider, and once more the flying mechanisms popped out.
"I'll bend my way up there. I'm sure I can make it in time."
"This glider can handle us both, and much fa—"
"I said I'll walk!" The volume of his voice surprised them both, and all Chian could do was blink at his outburst. But before she could recover her voice, he started up the hall, part of him cowering at the thought of speaking so to a superior. He didn't want to explain to her his deathly fear of flying. No one needed to know that, least of all her.
Hikoshu aimed his hands toward the ground, splaying out his fingers. It took him a moment to focus on the air around his legs, to focus on its form—its very substance—but quickly it became something solid. And immediately, he was gliding along the corridor, both held up and propelled by air.
It looked impressive, floating as if he were a ghost, but it didn't last long. Luckily, he could keep the trick up long enough to get out of Chian's sight before it failed. He stumbled into the first pavilion as he came to a stop. Sighing in disappointment, he then took the stone path that intersected to his right and vowed once again to work on his terror of flying.
Yet he had traversed the Air Temple often enough on foot to learn the various shortcuts and secret passages that would take him to his destination. Some of the tunnels, he imagined, had not been traveled in centuries, dust thick on the ground and mold growing from the stone ceilings. They required tricks to enter, such as doors that rotated on a horizontal axis, heavier on the bottom than on the top. When Hikoshu had figured out they could move, it was a simple matter of airbending to push the counterweighted bottom half up until he could slip through underneath it.
There weren't many of them, but the few he found guided him quickly through the interior of the Temple, taking him under the stone floors of the sanctuaries and to a corridor that let out on the covered aqueduct system. Water sources were hard to maintain so high above the earth. The aqueduct system, he supposed, was built to collect rainwater and channel it to various areas of the Air Temple. Now, however, it was dry from the severe drought and he walked along it easily. In only a short amount of time, he crawled out of one of the wells and alighted in the terraced garden of the cloisters.
"There you are!" He looked up to see Byan staring down at him from the terrace. Her face was drawn anxiously, her tattooed hands gripping the stone in front of her. "Hurry! Up here!"
There were no stairs in the garden. Hikoshu quickly scanned the surrounding landscape and found nothing but the bone-dry fountain and withering tiger-rosebushes the nuns had loved so much. With a resigned sigh, he shrugged at Byan and signaled for her to move out of the way. And, focusing as much energy as he could in his leap, he jumped at the terrace.
Hikoshu would willingly admit his airbending skills were serviceable at best. Most other airbenders would have easily made it over the stone railing. He, however, smashed his shins against the balustrade and flipped over, tumbling to the ground in front of Byan. All he could do was gather his pride and push himself, painfully, to his feet.
Normally, Byan would have cracked a smile at his antics. Now, however, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him through the door and into the study. A moment later, he found himself in the antechamber, standing in the center of those four statues he often admired.
And almost immediately, Nin-ma swept from the separate meeting room, a wrinkled parchment clutched in her hand. Hikoshu could see the red of the Fire Seal peaking out from between her fingers, indicating it was the message she'd just received.
"Mistress Nin-ma, what—?"
"Pack your things," she said swiftly, shoving the crushed scroll into his hand. "You're leaving here tomorrow." She signaled for Byan to shut the door as she left.
"What?" All he could do was repeat himself. The revelation was too abrupt to register. "Tomorrow?"
"The Fire Nation has demanded that you come home immediately—read the letter." She gestured in agitation at the worn parchment. Then suddenly she was moving back toward the meeting room.
"I'm going back to the Fire Nation?" He was breathless, a twinge of elation sparking in his chest. He was going home, after all those years. Back to the Temples and the Sages. Back to where everything made sense, and he lived far closer to sea level. But Nin-ma shook her head as she disappeared into the other room, and he could hear her voice float past the bead curtain.
"You're going to the North Pole. As soon as possible." She emerged again, another parchment in her hand. "You are to stay far away from the Fire Nation, Hikoshu. They've betrayed you."
