A/N: CW: Talk of/allusions to torture and rape (nothing too graphic I don't think, but better safe than sorry)
The forest was thick but hollow, drained, the bark brittle, the limbs snapping off. Nothing stirred, nothing shone, nothing sang. Winter had choked the land, its winds occasionally moaning through the trees, dying again to entomb the wood in a muted echoing, like the hushed tones of a great, slabbed cathedral.
Fern whickered uneasily and jerked the reins, her perked ears twitching. With a gloved hand, Katara stroked the animal's neck, whispering words of comfort that she didn't feel.
Something felt wrong. A grating disquiet along her ribs, some unseen claws sinking deeper the further they advanced. Every time she tried to grasp for the reason, just like a thought skirting the edge of her mind, it would vanish before she could reach it. But a heaviness had woven into these woods and seemed to follow her, press into her, settling on her shoulders with all the discomfort of a wet blanket.
They slogged through the sludgy snow, and through a break in a wall of pines up ahead, she could finally see a clearing. The edge of the Ice Marsh. A flat, bitter wasteland that, according to the map, sprawled at the foot of a frozen lake. Even from here it looked dead, patches of matted brown grass bleeding through layers of icy snow-slush.
A tree's spindly arm barred their course, as though to turn them back, tiny icicles dangling like fringe. Ozai bent the branch so they could pass, sending a shower of ice to the ground as it snapped back behind them.
Slowing to a stop, Katara reached for Ozai's arm, drawing his gaze.
"I have the strangest feeling," she whispered, shivering.
Beneath her hand, she felt his arm tense further. Overhead, the branches creaked, carving the grey sky into slivers. Ozai looked around, scanned the area, and she could see it in the coiled aspect of his bearing, the furrow of his brow. He felt it too.
"Stay close to me."
Dark spruce frowned on either side of the threshold, like a gateway to another world. The trees were bowed, sagging under the weight of gloppy snow, and now leaned toward each other, black and forbidding in the ashen light.
"Tread quietly," murmured Ozai as they passed through and crept cautiously onto the marsh. "Perhaps we can steal around and root out a nest or cluster of eggs. If we're clever and lucky, we may not have to face down a slaughterslug at all." He paused and turned to her. "Though I want you to have your blade ready, just in case. Do you remember what I showed you?"
Back in Maunesse. In spite of everything, Katara felt a smile trying to nudge the corner of her mouth. Feet apart. Knees bent. Grip spread out on the hilt. Remembering the skip of her heart, the touch of his hands as he'd guided her into position. The look on his face when she had bested him. Longing for the light-hearted respite of that day.
"I think so," she answered as she slid it from its sheath, weighing it in her hand. The sword was lighter than she had expected, the ivory hilt offering a secure grip. Dull light gleamed off the runed steel as she slashed it delicately at the air, feeling every bit of her inexperience. "But I never thought I'd actually have to use it."
Ozai wrapped a gloved hand around hers on the hilt and drew her close, their breaths fogging the same bit of air. She leaned into him, feeling like she could never be close enough, and he tipped her chin up, tenderly capturing her lips in his. The kiss was enough to melt the snow at her feet, and when it broke, he spoke warmth against her lips, his voice deep, smooth, lined with satin and woodsmoke.
"You may not have to." Ozai drew back, the molten amber of his eyes the only heat in this desolate place. "I don't want you to get hurt. I already lost you once and I'll be damned if I lose you again. So, whatever happens, be prepared, but just stay back at first."
Katara took a breath in and nodded once, squared her shoulders, and followed him onward.
They found globs of some kind of thick, grey goo, the decomposing remains of dismembered animals, areas where the ground had been disturbed. But no nests. And no eggs.
A vast silence reigned over the land. Not the ambient, living sort of quiet, but stifling, empty. The heaviness she couldn't quite describe, mismatched even to the bleakness of this place, had begun squeezing tighter, like a giant's fist. The still air crawled across her skin and shadows seemed to reach out their hands.
Katara walked behind Ozai in the murk, straining to hear past her own pulse.
Like a sudden deluge, an inexplicable cocktail of sorrow and rage and guilt and terror sloshed over her, each wave colder and more paralyzing than the last. She was choking, feeling twisted and wrenched in every direction at once. There was something like a soft snap, a nauseating rush of abysmal cold and darkness spreading through her, filling her head and chest.
Her feet slowed of their own accord. Somewhere, her mind and body were screaming, but it was as if she was outside of herself, watching, helpless. Vaguely aware of her fingers tightening around the hilt of her weapon. Her arm moving at her side. Overcome with a foreign, perverse sort of glee.
Dismay punctuated the haze as she began to realize, with guttering focus, what was happening to her. Katara tried to cry out, but her voice was held hostage, and in abject horror, she was forced to stare at Ozai's back as her arm raised up, readying to strike.
And the weapon swung.
Something had happened. Something was wrong.
Rinna paced the worn wood floor, arms wrapped around her stomach. She sat down, picked up the creased letter, dropped it, paced again.
Seeing Eun Ji show up at her door with the envelope from Lu Da had been bewildering, filling her with an odd blend of unease and hope. She had done her best to dodge questions about the nature of their relationship and didn't even have to feign the stomach ache she blamed for cutting the visit short. That Lu Da had approached her friend at all seemed an enormous gamble, one Rinna was sure he wouldn't risk unless the situation were dire. He had written few details and kept the letter vague, only that dinner should be avoided at all costs and not to fret. That he had a plan in motion and she would see him again come nightfall.
Even as the afternoon sky had turned from gold to purple, she had tried her best to hold onto his words. Lu Da may be audacious, a risk-taker, but he was not foolhardy. He could look after himself, as strong as he was sharp, and somehow, he would make things okay.
But, by the time midnight had dyed the sky a deep inky black, she knew.
Fear snaked through her body and left a cold trail. It might already be too late. He might never be coming back. But, there was still a chance he was out there, alive, and she would be caught dead before wasting another minute pacing when she could do something. And she had a hunch where to start looking.
Combing the room for a weapon, her eyes landed on the hearth, a fireplace poker leaning up against the ash-scarred stone. Rinna grabbed it, shrugged on her cloak, and headed out the door.
Dodging pools of moonlight, she weaved through the shadows. But the streets were too empty. Where were all the guards?
The distant sounds of low groaning raised the hairs on her neck. She flattened herself along the dark side of a house and listened, looked around. A tepid breeze tickled a hair across her face, carrying the scent of blossoms and—
She gagged, mouthing a graphic word of revulsion, and buried her nose in the crook of her elbow. Spirits, what was that smell?
Oh, Lu Da… what did you do?
Reaching the street across from his house, she checked that the coast was clear before crossing quickly, sneaking up the steps and in through the unlocked door. The place was dark, lit only by pale beams of silver filtering through the windows.
A dull, rhythmic thudding started in the corner of the room and made her jump out of her skin. Rinna spun around to see a large lump of fur staring back from the shadows, a thick tail beating a drum against the floor. The breath rushed out of her.
She crept forward, bending down cautiously to offer a palm. It was met with a flat, pink tongue as the dog rose to its feet, panting, licking at her face with a lonely whine.
Rinna scruffed the fur behind those floppy ears, swallowing past the burning lump in her throat. "Where is he, girl?"
A faint gloss caught in the corner of her eye. She turned her head, spotting the waxed wood of his crossbow propped up against a moonlit wall. Standing, Rinna crossed the room in hushed strides and, reverently, picked it up, running her fingers along the sleek, smooth grain of the stock, over the grooves his hands had worn.
Another whine. She looked down to see the dog poised at the ready, shaggy ears cocked and alert.
"Come on. We're going to find him."
:.: :.: :.:
Lu Da groaned, his head lolled to one side. The back of his skull was throbbing like a whore's heart and he slurred a curse, lifting his hand to feel the damage. Or tried to. But it didn't move. Something was restraining his arms and chest, his legs too, and Lu Da blinked, closed his heavy eyelids, blinked again. His vision was tunneling and it took several moments for the sea of blurred lines to coalesce and sharpen.
He was sat in a chair, stripped down to the waist and strapped firmly in place. By the flickering sallow light of the sconces, the room was uncomfortably warm and dim, all shifting gilded hues.
In another chair in the corner sat Jufeng, one leg crossed over the other, a knife resting in his lap. Watching him with all the unhurried amusement of a tigerdillo eyeing a trapped jackalope.
"Hello, Lu Da. Welcome back."
The glare he returned clotted the air, a hot, black venom warring with the dread in his gut. "Hello, you miserable pissflap."
The edges of his thin lips curled in a perversion of a smile. "Your reputation precedes you. Always did have a silver tongue, I hear. But not for much longer."
Jufeng rose, ambling around the room with exaggerated ease while teasing the tip of the blade against the pad of one finger.
"That was a clever trick you pulled out there. Resourceful. I might even say I'm impressed, were I not so disgusted. But, for all your sea rat savviness, you failed the first rule of pillaging. Keep a weather eye on your surroundings."
Night had swallowed the town, the gaps in curtained windows black in contrast to the candlelight. How long had he been out? Hours? A day? Against a wall stood a table, littered with small tools and what looked like snipped stalks of bamboo.
"You may be wondering why you're here, in my humble abode. Why I didn't just kill you, or throw you to the rest of these heavies to tear apart until Bao gets back tomorrow…"
Tomorrow.
So, the bastard didn't know. Lying low to prevent word of his survival reaching Lu Da, give himself first dibs. Which meant there was a chance, yet, that no one else knew Jufeng was still around, and that Bao was likewise in the dark.
It could buy him time… to do what, he didn't know. Escape? That would be one hell of a magician's stunt. Be rescued by a dashing young damsel? Who was being perfectly obedient and staying safe at home? In any case, it meant whatever he was in for may last longer; but it was game over now if either Bao or Jufeng found out.
"Well, rest assured, the Bloodhound will get word of your treachery and I'm sure he'll come up with plenty of creative ways to deal with you on his own. But I figured, in the meantime, why not have a little fun? Just you and me?"
Lu Da huffed. "Sure, but where I come from, you at least buy a guy dinner first."
A shadow flashed across his face and Jufeng's beady eyes darkened. "When I'm through with you, dickworm, I'll have that bravado wiped clean off your ugly map of a face." He paused, a flicker of that vile tongue over his lips. "I am gonna do some bad things to you, Lu."
Lu Da arched a brow, one cheek tipping upward. "Like what?" he purred, biting his lip, earning him a furious clench of that patchily-bearded jaw.
Jufeng strolled toward him, retrieving a few hollow, wooden stalks from the table.
"Well, for starters, I got some nice, sharpened bamboo here to trace some pretty patterns over that ink." He gestured to his chest, light glancing off the blade of his knife. "Thought that'd be a fun little warm-up, the poetry of it and all. Intending to flay it off in places, too, peel the skin nice and slow, but not to worry. I'll see you retain enough blood to stay alive for the second act. I'm gonna break your arms, then your legs, followed by every joint in your fingers and toes."
With each slow step closer, his tone grew more snarling, bloodthirsty. A dog on a taut chain threatening to snap.
"Gonna cut off your ears and force them down your throat. Cut off your cock and shove it up your ass." He stopped inches before him and bent down. The sharp bite of cold metal just under his chin, and Lu Da sucked a faint breath through his nose, Jufeng's other hand wrapping around his throat. "And I'm going to choke you slowly to the brink of death, again and again, until I hear the infamous Dirty Hands beg for mercy."
Fingernails dug into the skin over his pulse. The blade's stinging tip twisted with a snap, the ooze of warmth down his neck, and Lu Da's nostrils flared once. But he didn't flinch, holding the man's rabid gaze.
"Kinky."
"I'm gonna kill you, you piece of shit!" Jufeng roared, slamming him back against the chair. A jarring blast of lightning through his brain as his wounded head collided with a crack.
The other man hissed, buckled, clutching at his side. A snarl seethed through his bared teeth, indignation radiating off him like a furnace.
"Easy, there. Wouldn't want to reopen that, put a damper on all the fun."
The corner of his upper lip curled. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. That's the very thing that kept me alive, the thought of seeing you reduced to a sniveling bitch while I cut pieces off you one by one. Watching Bao eviscerate you, strangle you with your own entrails. I managed to drag myself back here, stitch up the damage. And while I regained my strength, I got to thinking, wondering how you'd managed to make a comeback so quickly. I'll admit, it had me scratching my head, for a short minute. But you know, I do believe I've put it together." He placed a hand on the ear of the chair, leaning over him. His smile cut sharply. "And I'm willing to bet your Rinna's just as dead as you when Bao finds out."
Lu Da felt the mask slip, his body go cold with dismay.
"That's right. I'm afraid lover-girl is going to have a bad time of it before joining you in the afterlife. But, let's not allow that to take away from our time together, hm?" Jufelt descended slowly to kneel at his side, twisting a blade of bamboo between thumb and fingers. He skimmed the honed tip along a dark curve of ink on his forearm and Lu Da drew a breath through his nose, his fists tightening. "With no further ado, what do you say we start… here?"
There was a singing hiss in the air. Fern bucked away and Ozai turned around barely in time to jump back, but not before the tip of the blade caught him across his cheekbone.
He gasped in shock as much as pain, his hand flying up to the wound, and took another step back, eyes darting over her.
"Katara!" he barked. "What are you—?"
But, no sooner had his words etched ghosts into the air than his throat knotted with dread.
The sword in her outstretched arm was trembling, tears brimming in her widened eyes, and there was something very wrong about them now. These eyes did not belong to Katara. They were colder, darker, like cloth soaked wet.
Her voice was scarcely more than a shaky, strangled breath. "Get away."
But when she spoke again, her voice was still her own, but Ozai could hear another, smoky and horrifyingly familiar, echoing through it.
"That's right. Run, Ozai." She took a slow, provocative step forward, and his mouth went dry. "Or, you could stay. We could finally have some real fun, you and I."
Rooted in place, he shook his head as understanding spread through his body like ice water. "No…"
"Oh, yes. I was so hoping you would have a chance to use Brondolf's ingenious creation."
Somehow, the idea had not occurred to him. That the same tonic which had suppressed her bending and saved her life had been a door blown wide. Nesithra had lamented her inability to torment them before, but she had simply been biding her time, waiting, on the hope of–
"I must say, I've missed our interludes and can't help feeling a bit… neglected. Your spirit world visits have been regrettably scarce of late and I had hoped we might come to know each other better. Though as luck would have it now, perhaps we can."
He started to back away, staring into the unremitting dark of her eyes. Unease slithered down his spine.
"What's the matter? I won't bite, too hard. Perhaps you might settle a little matter for me. I've heard it said that Fire Nation men are known for their… virility."
"Stop."
"Oh, you don't mean that. Come on, why don't you show me what a real man can do?" Ozai took another step back as she glided closer, Katara's brows tipping up and lips plumped in a coy, voluptuous pout. It was so wrong, so unbefitting, and his stomach twisted, like a rag wrung dry. "I thought you wanted me, Ozai. We've been fighting this for so long, and now we finally have our chance."
With one hand, she clutched a fistful of his cloak to pull herself into his chest, the poison in her tone so at odds with the sweetness of her face. The other tugged his beard, forcibly closing the space to inches, and his nostrils flared. The hand on his cloak slipped beneath the layers and down lower, and this time when she spoke, Katara's voice dropped to a husky whisper, wanton, dripping with lust.
"Fuck me, Ozai. Show me how you make your women—"
In a flash of outrage, Ozai took hold of her shoulders and forced her back from him, snarling. "Leave her, now!"
"Ugh, you're no fun. I had expected more from the fearsome ex-Fire Lord. Guess the rumors aren't all true, what a pity." She sighed. "Well, there is another game we could play, although I'm afraid you'll find this one considerably less fun on your part."
Katara's beautiful face split into a vicious grin, showing teeth, her hand twirling her weapon playfully.
The realization was accompanied by a sudden burst of adrenaline as she lunged toward him, sword swinging. In one quick motion, Ozai drew his blade and blocked it in a clash of steel. It was hardly a powerful strike. Her movements were stilted and he far outmatched her for strength. But it wasn't himself he feared for.
"Careful, Ozai. It sure would be a shame if you hurt your precious waterbender."
"Let her go," he growled through his teeth.
A rapid, shrill ringing of metal scraping as her sword drew back, thrusted forward again. Ozai arced his blade upward, repelling the strike aimed for his heart, then again as she advanced on him without a care. His pulse hammered through his clenched jaw, striving to keep his weapon angled safely away while parrying each blow.
Finally, without warning, she stopped, her lips a sullen pucker.
"I'm growing bored of this game," she moaned, her sword arm drooping dramatically. "How about we up the stakes, make things a bit more interesting?"
Katara turned the blade on herself, the steel's keen edge pressing dangerously into her neck, and a surge of pure, unmitigated fear tore through him.
"No!" Ozai bellowed, lurching toward her. Fern snorted with a great, stomping step.
Katara's arm stilled and she fixed him with a malicious, fever-eyed grin. He panted, frozen, and shook his head. Praying he could call Nesithra's bluff. She wouldn't hurt them, not really, he had told himself. Not when she was still counting on them.
"Don't. You would be a fool to—"
A thin string of red beaded and trickled down her neck and Ozai roared again, a feral sound that scraped his throat raw.
"If she dies, your hope of complete freedom dies with her!"
She tilted her head, mouth pulling to the side theatrically. "Hmm, true… But after hundreds of years, I think I could live with this little sliver just to see the great and powerful Ozai reduced to a groveling, begging mess. And all for the sake of a Water Tribe girl." She laughed, bright but diabolical, ringing hollow in the marsh's bleak wasteland."You really do love her, don't you? How peculiar."
Fern let out a troubled bray and stomped forward again, lowering her head and spiral horns.
Katara half turned with a fiendish chuckle, slashing the sword at the animal. It nicked Fern's snout and she reared up on hind legs, squealing, a look of confusion and fear in her eyes, and Ozai sprang into action. Before Katara could turn and take a swing, he was on her, wresting the weapon from her hand and taking hold of her tightly.
She tipped her head up to look at him, her lower lip protruding, and scraped a fingertip down his chest. "A man and his faithful steed. How touching."
He needed to restrain her, keep her safe while he tried to find the eggs, hopefully without rousing a slaughterslug, and get them the hell out of–
A low boom.
The ground rumbled, once, beneath his feet and Ozai's muscles locked tight. He pivoted, looked around.
The trees whispered overhead, and then went still, as if they too were waiting. But there was only the sudden ruffle of feathers, the crackle of branches, the ripple of a place disturbed in sleep.
"What was that?" he murmured on his breath, more to himself.
Boom.
This one louder and closer than the last, like something rising up from the next world. Something big.
Ozai's clammy hand tightened around the hilts.
In a mellifluous voice, Nesithra sang, "Somebody's in trouble."
BOOM.
It sounded as if the top of the frozen marsh might blow clear off as the ground tremored, growled. And in a blast of ice and slush and hard dirt they were blown back as an enormous, ghastly creature thundered up, retched from its dregs.
Ozai staggered and felt the world tip, the blood drain into his feet.
A faceless, bulbous head turned toward him. Two sets of massive razor-sharp pincers clacked open and shut, curving out on either side of its maw like scythes. It pulled its fore half up and back, scales of hard, chitinous armor shifting, to tower over them, and the front end opened with a shriek. A large, gaping hole full of hundreds of serrated teeth gnashing, tiny but deadly in the sheer grinding power of its jaws.
It charged toward them. Ozai shoved Katara in the other direction as he bolted out of range, the creature crashing down where he had been standing seconds before. He lost his footing, clambering for purchase, before pelting through the frozen slurry.
Dirt and slush sprayed like splashing water as it veered, slithering after him impossibly fast, leaving a fetid trail of grey slime in its way. The ground churned at his heels and Ozai darted around a lone tree, pincers slicing, scything halfway through the trunk. With a long groan, it thundered down, hailing debris and splinters.
Icy breaths sawed in and out of his lungs. Ozai swerved, springing in another direction to throw it off. Hope of outrunning the slaughterslug was lost, with little hope of outmaneuvering it for long, but if he could learn its patterns, find a place to bury his sword–
As the creature veered sharply in pursuit, the backlash of its thrashing tail caught Ozai clean in the gut, flashing stars across his vision. He half collapsed, gasping for air like a fish out of water, hands vise-tight around both hilts as he fought to stay upright.
But the slaughterslug had changed course. Ozai shook his head to clear it, the world still slanting, to see Katara walking right into its path, a lamb to the slaughter under Nesithra's control.
He roared her name, tearing toward her as panic and despair cleaved through the pit in his stomach. It was too fast. He wouldn't reach her in time.
With a squeal, Fern bounded in front of her, driving Katara back with a forceful butt of her head and blocking her path. The tip of a pincer sliced across the animal's shoulder, a terrible cry piercing the air, but though her eyes were wild with fear, she stood her ground before Katara and did not flee.
The creature drew itself up as it reached them, faceless maw gaping to attack when Ozai hurtled himself forward, bashing a dusky scale of chitin with his blade. It turned on him, pincers mowing the air furiously, and slithered after on his heels.
Bleeding and limping, Fern kept guard over Katara as Ozai led the chase away. But in those brief seconds it had reared up, he had spotted it. A chink in its armor. A recessed cleft along its pale plated underbelly.
The slaughterslug's tail sent a shower of sludge through the air. Fear snarled through him as he forced himself to stop and turn, planting his feet wide. As before, the creature rose up, letting out a blood-curdling shriek, and then dived forward. Ozai feinted to one side, a spray of soggy earth flying where it crashed down, and in the span of a heartbeat, it was rearing up again. But Ozai was already charging forward. With a lunging leap, he used his impetus to drive a sword deep into the diamond-shaped cleft, wrenching it side to side and twisting.
The massive creature bucked and writhed, screeching in pain and fury. Ozai hit the ground again, scrambling to get out of range as those deadly scythes flailed. Its body lurched toward him, and his damp grip choked the hilt of his last weapon. But then, the slaughterslug crashed down one final time, twitching.
Silence rushed in. The thunder of his pulse was deafening as he fought to regain his breath. In the frigid air, the sweat on his skin cooled quickly, the second blade slipping from his uncoiling grip into the mire of snow-slush. But there was no time to feel relief.
Finding two lengths of rope in the saddlebags, he wrestled Katara into his arms and tied her up thoroughly, sitting her down next to Fern. She fixed him with a sullen pout. The irony was not lost on him. A memory sparked, a lifetime ago, of her bound in rope and slung over his shoulder. Only now, he did so to protect her, to keep her safe.
Cautiously, he crept up to the lifeless creature, grasping the hilt of the sword embedded in its belly. He needed to locate three slaughterslug eggs before another one of these things popped out of the ground. But there were no nests to be seen. It seemed likely they nested underground, but the probability of him dredging one up without rousing a whole family was slim to none.
The blade squelched as it started to slide free. But then, Ozai stopped. What if these creatures' eggs were not laid in nests or clusters, but instead, someplace one would never think to look? Somewhere near impossible to reach. It would certainly be in keeping with the mounting hopelessness this mission was turning into.
Nesithra's words echoed. "He's tricked you as he has countless desperate fools, embarking on the same impossible errand on the hope of a reward they will never reap."
Ozai drove them back and started sawing.
By the time he had made a sizeable cut through layers of chitin, his arms were burning. At last, he spread open the scaled flesh, spilling noxious ooze and entrails, half a small animal's spinal column. And a vomitous blob of pearly round eggs.
Holding the weapons under one arm, he removed his gloves and gathered up three, the slimy globules nearly slipping from his hands, and walked back to root around in the saddlebags until he retrieved a leather parcel. It would do for now, keep the eggs from contaminating their other belongings.
Fern whined, licking at the wound on her shoulder, still trickling blood. The sudden reality, of what could have been, stabbed his heart. The animal had guarded Katara with her life. If it hadn't been for her–
Ozai washed his hands in the snow and replaced his gloves. Kneeling down, he stroked her snout and jowls and held out an offering of treats. She snuffled them from his open palm, sniffing up his arm for more. Then with a gentle pull on the reins, he stood and helped the animal, limping, to her feet, murmuring words of encouragement. She could walk, but there was no question their pace would be slowed, and Fern would not be able to bear the weight of them both. In this shape, Ozai feared the luggage and Katara might prove too much. And if he had to carry her, they would never make it.
Tying Katara into the saddle, Ozai did his best to ignore the vile things coming out of her mouth and started walking, leading the reins. Fern's gash would have to be treated before long, but right now they needed to forge a safe distance from the Ice Marsh and cut the quickest path possible back out of Myrr.
He was fraying at the edges, nauseous, cold with sweat. Blood ribboned down his chest and arms, spattered the wood floor around him. The air was coppery, the taste of bile in the back of Lu Da's throat.
A thin sheen of red coated Jufeng's hands, drying in the cracks of his knuckles. The man smiled at him, skating the knife's edge down the grooves of his tattooed abdomen, across the crude black weave of his stitches.
"I confess, I'm half tempted to gut you right now," he said quietly, like it was a secret between friends. "After all, why should I wait? I'm sure Bao would understand. He might even thank me. But, it seems only fair the boss should have the honor, don't you think? Give his old colleague a proper farewell."
Something moved on the other side of the room, so slight it might have been a trick of his eye. Swallowing, he followed it, not expecting the newfound wave of panic that surged through him. One brown eye, wide and shivering, peeked around the corner, the sliver of Rinna's face darting back with a quiet gasp.
No. No, no, no.
Jufeng went stiff, listening, then rose to his feet. He stood there, poised as an arrow nocked on its string. The knife gleamed red at his waist.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
Shallow breaths raked in and out of Lu Da's chest, raging pain through patches of raw, open flesh. Jufeng prowled toward the corner, where a hall branched off to the entryway. A nameless dread caught him in his jaws as the man skulked to a stop, peering around the bend.
A cast iron rod went swinging, cracking him in the head as he tried to duck back. Jufeng growled, fury exploding in his eyes. Before she could land another blow, he seized a fistful of her sleeve, Rinna screaming as he dragged her out from the hall and into his arms, throwing the fireplace poker to the floor with a clang.
"What have we here?" he sneered, a thin stream of blood trickling down his face, into the corner of his mouth. She struggled and writhed against his chest, gasping as he yanked her head back by the hair, the bloody blade biting at her throat. "Guess it's my lucky day. Looks like it's going to be double the fun tonight. And you know what? I do believe it's time for the intermission show, Dirty Hands."
The harsh ripping of fabric, and she fought as Jufeng tore open the front of her dress, fixing Lu Da with a nefarious look of pleasure.
"You're going to watch. I want you to keep your eyes open. You so much as blink too long or turn your head, I'll start cutting pieces off her, too, while I'm at it. Understood?"
Lu Da jerked against the restraints as he threw her to the floor and straddled her waist to hold her down, ripping the dress further. Over Rinna's cries came a wild, rattling snarl as a blur of brown shot around the corner. Lady Luck hurdled onto his back, sinking her teeth into his shoulder and wrenching violently.
Arms flailing, he howled and Rinna scrabbled out from under him as he tried to throw the dog off, grappling to his feet. He only succeeded halfway before being tackled again. Jufeng rolled onto his back, trying to land a blow and shield his face from murderous jaws, to no avail. A hoarse scream tore out of him and finally guttered as the dog shredded his gullet open, blood flooding the floor like a pond around him.
Wet, rabid snarls were the only remaining sounds in a quiet room. Breathless and shaken, Rinna crawled forward, cautiously pulling the seething dog off the body. The growls became whines as a gore-soaked muzzle turned to her, ears back, trying to lap at her face.
"Holy shit," Lu Da breathed into the silence, staring at the gruesome scene, red pooling swiftly across the floor. "Good girl."
Rinna stood quickly and dropped to her knees before him, taking his face in his hands. "Oh, my gods…" she shuddered, eyes skating over his body and back up. "Are you okay?"
"It could have been worse," he shrugged, wincing, as she got to work on the restraints. "You were supposed to stay home."
She looked up at him with a quirk of her lips. "I guess you're lucky that I'm not a well-behaved woman then."
A laugh huffed out of him. "I'll drink to that." He was overwhelmed by the things she made him feel. As his first hand fell free, he brought it to her cheek, and the gaze she returned was electric. His voice dropped to the softness of a caress. "Thank you, Rinna."
"I suppose we're even now," she answered softly.
The last restraint clattered to the floor. Lu Da hissed at the movement as she helped him sit up straighter. Rinna looked over her shoulder, grimacing. "We need to get this mess cleaned up before Bao comes back."
"Yeah, about that…"
She read the truth in the pause that followed. "What?"
"Big man got back early this morning."
Pale and trembling, she shook her head. "What are we going to do? Even if we get this cleaned up tonight, Bao will know something happened just by looking at you."
Lu Da sighed and glanced at a night-blackened window. At last, he nodded. "I think we have to bail, now, while we can. You were right, this jig was too risky to pull off on my own."
"We? You're crazy if you think Bao will let me go."
"I don't plan on giving him a choice. Besides, you belong to me now, remember?" he said, brushing a brown hair back into place. Affection glowed in her eyes. She leaned in and pressed her soft, parted lips to his in a kiss that filled him with heat and silenced the pain, if only for a moment. "I'm not leaving here without you. Where I go, you go, step for step."
"But… you don't think this will look suspicious?" she whispered before pulling back. "He might start asking questions, and if he puts together that you were working undercover—"
"Right now, the risk is better than the alternative. I'll leave a note, say I'm going on a brief business trip, one I believe will placate him for a bit, buy us time."
"And the others? I can't just leave them."
"I know. And we won't, not for too long. There's someone who owes me a favor and I intend to call it in. If Bao finds out the real reason we fled, we'll already be gone, and either way, when we come back, it'll be with ammunition."
Her eyes shimmered and when she finally spoke, her voice was choked with a smile. "If we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you unconscious."
Lu Da grinned. "I'll hold you to that."
A night and a day spent forging through the barrens of white, nothing for his eyes to hang onto save for the jagged teeth of the horizon. They stopped only for a few hours rest, and now Ozai clutched the reins tightly, hauling the huffing, snorting animal behind him.
His ears were ringing. Snow stung his face, icy pins and needles, stitching a pattern of pain across his cheeks and forehead. Fern's muzzle was matted with ice, breaths freezing in the air. Ozai looked over his shoulder to check on Katara again. It had gone quiet, or perhaps the howling wind simply carried her voice faster than she could speak, and now she lay still in the saddle. A body-shaped lump under the heavy cloak and sleeping bags.
Their first pass through Myrr, they had nearly succumbed, lost and disoriented, and though he kept a vigilant eye on the map and the compass, it would be dark again in a few hours. Then, it would be only his best guess, untrained as he was with this sky and its stars. And if they did not cross the border come next afternoon…
They would.
They had to.
Miles of bitter, craggy wastes turned into less hostile hills and valleys, the first glimpses of green in far too long. By the time autumnal mercy embraced them and they passed into Arclais, Fern's hobbling limbs were giving out, her drooping head held off the ground only by virtue of the reins. Ozai's feet were lead weights, his lips and mouth dry, and as the last light of day folded behind the snow-capped peaks, he managed to drag them into the ruins of a stone manor for cover. And they fell apart at the seams.
Wind moaned through the broken walls, the roof having collapsed to expose a ceiling of stars. Foam had dried and crusted on the animal's mouth, Fern's breaths rasping, labored, as she lay sprawled on her side. He prayed the animal would make it through the night.
Ozai lied on his back, staring dead up at the moons hanging in the diamond-dusted sky, a white gibbous and a blue crescent. Feeling as if his heavy body was sinking into the earth, and he was drifting outside of it.
Katara lied next to him. Looking at him. Smiling.
The things she was saying, to him, about him, cut like blasts of acid through his heart, so full of spite and loathing and malice. Ozai gritted his teeth and did not look at her. Reminded himself it was not her. That these words were not her own.
The wounds still blistered.
And underneath, a terrible thought was gnawing him through. That Katara might never come back. It was hours since the tonic should have worn off. Nesithra's possession, her power – could it prevent Katara's own from returning? Keep her a prisoner in her own body until she withered and passed away from weakness. An empty husk, discarded for the next host.
Somehow, he must have fallen asleep, but it was fitful, and brief, and full of nightmares, and when he woke again, he could not bring himself to open his eyes. Fearful of what awaited him, that he would turn to still find that sweetness wearing a demon's smile.
But, a groan, weak and feeble, came from beside him, carrying his name on an exhale. Holding his breath, Ozai turned his head.
Pure, untainted blue gazed back, listless and hollowed by dark circles, but more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.
"Oh… thank Agni," he sighed, a note of tension rushing out of him with the relief. Sitting up, he untied the ropes that protected her and tossed them aside, gathering her in his arms. He lied down and draped the sleeping bags over them.
"I don't feel good," croaked Katara, frail, as he held her to his chest.
His cheek rested against the crown of her head and his voice whispered through waves of brown silk. "I know."
Ozai closed his eyes. And when he opened them again, the sky was still strung with stars, but the rich black was fading to the dusty blue of a bruise. His body was warm where Katara was nestled, her head in the crook of his shoulder, breaths the slow, even cadence of sleep.
Snugging his arm around her, he traced the celestial patterns across the ancient sky. His eyes caught once again on that tarnished smear of stars, diverging like a pair of serpents half-entwined. It appeared closer now than it had in Myrr, snaking between fainter speckles of light.
There was something like an itch at the back of his mind. He studied it, thoughts, puzzle pieces, beginning to spiral, fluttering into place.
The hitch of his chest drew Katara out of sleep with a long, deep breath. Ozai looked over at the heap of saddlebags where Fern was curled up, her belly still rising and falling in slow rhythm.
Katara lifted her head groggily. "What is it?" she mumbled.
Carefully, he sat up, making sure she was steady. "Hold on."
He threw open the leather bag and found the riddle, unrolling it, straining to read in the dim light.
A pair of serpents in darkness emerge.
Without bidding they come to grace the night
yet are lost to sight at dawn by no hand of a thief.
Ozai blinked, his eyes widening.
Beneath bellies of luster does the earth thus stretch.
Six stones, six dragons standing proud in a ring
to sleep until the moon and sun become one.
"The constellation…"
It was a beacon, a guide to the second portal. The six stones, or six dragons, where the moon and sun become one. It had to be. If they followed those stars—
His eyes skimmed back up the riddle with new sight.
Scooting to his side, Katara laid her weary head on his shoulder. "What?" she asked again.
A majestic beast, strong and faithful, ever stands o'er his queen.
On her head a crown, but not of gold.
In her hand many tongues but which cannot taste.
Her pearly labyrinth which thus she protects
did bade the sun to slumber
until kissed by the moon once more.
He shook his head, fingers raking through his dark hair into a loose fistful. "We were there."
That buried city. The ruins of Antinne. The half-crumbled statue of Yrsine with her winged lion and her crown of laurel and the torch with its tongues of flame. They had been there… and had walked right past it.
"Ozai?"
At last, he dropped the hand in his hair and blew out a shallow breath, turning to her. "I think I know where the Sunstone is."
A/N: Wenchicus Thoticus has been insistent from the get-go that this is basically a videogame, and I guess she's right. I wrote Ozai killing the slaughterslug, and my mind had a split-second glitch and went, better harvest those scales to craft some badass armor back in Arclais. Except, they'd probably overload the inventory and be forced to walk at a snail's pace the whole way.