Burden
III
"Quiet, uncle!" Zuko hissed, as every fiber of his being became taut at the sudden realization. "Do you hear that?"
Iroh blinked. Why did it appear that every time he was telling a good story of wisdom or past experience, his nephew always coincidentally heard something or saw something or was suddenly too tired to listen to him? If the old man didn't know any better, he would say Zuko didn't take interest in his stories. But nonetheless, he sealed his lips and hearkened to nature's silence, trying hard to pick up some tiny sound that Zuko and the men apparently heard so well. Each had that tenseness to them; their eyes shifted this way and that in suspicion— or fear. But Iroh heard nothing. And age was to blame.
"Breathing, uncle," said the Prince finally, not bothering to scold Iroh for his deafness. And I know that breathing anywhere.
Without warning (merely on impulse) Zuko dashed forward through the bushes and out of sight of the others. They looked to one another, waited a moment longer lest Zuko come back, then scrambled almost clumsily after him, perplexed by his abrupt action.
However, none of them had expected what they saw as they made it into the clearing. And in a moment of assumption, a victorious smile chased across each of their faces— some began to cheer.
The bison. The flying bison which they day after tiring day searched for in the sky, the bison which always served as the Avatar's escape. And wherever the bison was, the Avatar—
"Where is he!" The fierceness in their leader's voice startled them, compelling them to take a step back. Zuko advanced on the beast, was rewarded with a warning growl from deep in its throat which he in his boldness did not heed, and spoke firmly, tone demanding, as though he expected an answer from the creature: "Where is the Avatar!"
"Calm down, Prince Zuko!" Iroh reproached, as he made his way to lay a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Do not let your anger corrupt your logic. I presume he would have gone ahead into Gansu without the creature, seeing as its size can easily draw unwanted attention; may be a little intimidating."
Zuko listened to his uncle, breathed slowly. And after a moment he gave a curt nod signaling his agreement.
"Fine then," he said, technically. Then, studying the animal; "But regardless, I will not just simply leave this thing be."
With that, Iroh did not expect it when Zuko then so suddenly wrenched himself from his grip.
Eyes hard and gleaming with resentment, the Prince gracefully crouched down into offensive stance, hands set in poise. He stared steadily at his massive opponent, who in return glared back— and for a instant— but an instant— Zuko could have sworn he saw his hatred reflected in those eyes. In a way it seemed the creature knew his intent and tensed, hardening his gaze, challenging Zuko in a competition of intimidation. A burning heat began to surface at the Prince's fingertips; his golden orbs flared and flickered brightly from the flames that commenced to radiate from his palms—
"Do not do it, Prince Zuko!" exclaimed Iroh.
The old man received a glower. "Why not?"
"Think about it!" continued Iroh, speaking hurriedly. "Think of how much more difficult it would be without the bison, Prince Zuko! It is the Avatar's beacon; it is what allows you to keep track of the him. To have to search for him on ground— the Earth is cluttered, while the skies are clear, Prince Zuko!"
Tenseness pervaded the air among them like a toxin. Iroh had known the boy his entire life— more responsible for his upbringing than perhaps even the Fire Lord himself, and thus had long grown accustomed to Zuko's stubborn nature. Getting through to Zuko required first piercing the thick shell of obstinance, which confined his brain like an oyster its pearl. But with the right amount of pressure, it was possible. Presently, Zuko remained still; and he was analyzing his words, Iroh ascertained. His jaws ground, while his eyes stared.
Finally, after prolonged suspense, he withdrew and grumbled under his breath. He knew his uncle was right. The thing from the very beginning of his journey had been his key to spotting the Avatar. Without it, it was undecipherable just how much longer it would take to obtain victory.
So it was settled then...
But still, the Avatar would surely call for the beast. It would be inconvenient were the thing not to comply . . .
After a minute Zuko turned his head so as one eye fell upon his men. "Who has the du-powder?" he asked, sharply. "Someone give it to me."
The order sudden, it startled them slightly. One acquiesced immediately, making his way through the crowd, placing a small bag into the palm of Zuko's waiting hand. The soldier, along with the others as well, knew very well what the Prince's intents were upon this command. So as Zuko made to advance on the creature, and the thing's defense kicked in, a small number of them thoughtlessly moved to assist their leader.
Upon approach, though, a blur of black cut through the air. One of the men beside Zuko hollered and stumbled back, frantically clawing at his face. Ah, not his face per se— but the thing that clung to it. He yelled, bellowed, danced and staggered as its claws embedded themselves in his flesh. But like a leech, it was tenacious, and never budged.
"Don't just stand there!" barked Zuko. "Someone help him, you fools!"
As a few dazed men fumbled to follow orders, Zuko and the group of soldiers no longer wasted time. They acted quickly, the subordinates hooking and chaining the beast to cease his feral movements, while Prince Zuko meanwhile dished out the appreciable amount of powder he needed.
Once the thing was harbored (just enough so his movements were limited), beneath rows and rows of chains and nets, the men stood clear as Zuko advanced the creature.
The bison stilled when the Prince's shadow fell upon him. It looked at him, exhaled sharply through its nose.
Zuko scowled. "Stupid animal."
And with an effortless breath the powder was blown square into its face— and it went into a spontaneous fit, struggling to loosen the chains, struggling to evade the powder—
but stillness conquered in the end. The creature soon fell limp, breathing rhythmic, even.
"Now you won't get in my way," said the royal Firebender.
"Prince Zuko."
Zuko turned to regard the man who had spoken.
Among the crowd of soldiers, cries of pain were still audible, though softer, reduced to whining. The man who had addressed Zuko continued. "What should we do with the lemur? Should we put him to sleep as well?"
The Prince nodded, curtly. "Yes. Him, too."
"What!" Sokka exclaimed, shocked. "Katara, have you lost your mind!"
He earned an indignant glare. "No. The exact opposite. Look, Sokka, it's obvious they're not going to let us borrow the scroll." He said nothing. "Like I said, just think of it as borrowing without permission. We'll bring it back as soon as we're finished with it."
Sokka scoffed in reply, throwing up his arms in frustration. "Hello! Am I the only one who's having dejavu here! 'Cause I seem to remember a certain someone stealing a water scroll from a bunch of pirates— and oh! what brilliant idea that was!"
"Well," said Katara, slyly, arms folded, "we'll just be more careful."
"And I thought you said you'd learned your lesson about stealing?" Sokka continued, his glare increasing tenfold.
"Borrowing! It's borrowing!"
Deciding not to come between the two siblings (which he'd done before and had paid the consequences) Aang instead decided to commence. Almost effortlessly, his body uplifted like a feather, ascending gracefully toward the recess.
Sokka faltered in mid-sentence and turned. Upon doing so, he gave an exasperated sigh when acknowledging that Aang was already airborne. "No one ever listens to me!"
Aang looked over his shoulder. "Don't worry, Sokka," he assured, wedging both feet into the corners where the slab of rock met the wall, "we'll bring it back." One hand kept himself braced and balanced, while the other worked vigorously yet gingerly to remove the parchment from the steel restraint which held it in place.
And abruptly, Aang heard a rip, and his heart instantly stopped.
"Aang, hurry!" Katara hissed in a harsh whisper, sounding suddenly frantic.
The boy's head turned slightly, and almost snappishly, "I'm going as fast as I can!" Again he worked at the restraint, fingers now trembling under pressure. Almost there, almost there— forehead creased, tongue running along his upper lip in concentration— almost there, almost there!
"Hurry up!" It was Sokka who spoke this time. Paranoia pulling his nerves taut, he threw another anxious glance over his shoulder. "The old geezer's comin' back!"
"Got it!" Aang smiled triumphantly, his eyes quickly running over the scroll. Then, hearing the others' urgent whispers, he rolled it up while dropping down lightly onto his two feet.
Sokka's brows lowered. "He's coming; we gotta go— now!"
Not needing to be told twice, Aang fumbled hurriedly with his glider. He beckoned both Katara and Sokka, who complied to grab on to him. They spiraled upward at the boy's command, out of the courtyard and into the night sky, where they glided over the wondrous city of Gansu, and dreaded the man's reaction to when he would find the scroll stolen— ahem, let's rephrase that: 'borrowed without permission'. For after all, they would bring it back.
Gansu, each of them noted, was just as mind-blowing at night as it was during daylight. Torches could be seen here and there, as they threw their soft, radiant glow through the spotless streets. Upon the moon-kissed roof-tops of homes the sound of music could be heard gently wafting with the breeze. Laughter was muffled but audible through the open windows.
But soon their somewhat element of peace vanished as they set foot outside the walls of the city.
There Aang blew hard into his whistle, his cheeks reddening in effort. As always, no sound was made (which had always made Sokka dubious). Silence fell upon them for a moment, as they awaited Oppa's arrival—
— and at least a few minutes they stood there, still, unmoving. Perplexed, Aang looked expectantly down at the whistle. "I don't understand," he said softly. "He should have been here by now."
Sokka crossed his arms, shifted his weight. "Told you that thing didn't work."
"M-maybe he just— didn't hear it, Aang," said Katara, soothingly, but even she doubted her words.
"No—," Aang shook his head, "— it does work. And no, Oppa always hears it."
Just then, gongs from within the walls sounded, startling the three. Their eyes darted to the doors. They could make out voices, distressed, angry voices, coming from inside. And immediately, like hunted animals they started down the path which led away from Gansu, not daring to look back as they heard the tall doors creak ajar.
As they ran, Aang attempted once more to blow into the whistle. But nothing. "Where is he!" he cried, nearly stumbling over a rock.
"I— don't— know—," Sokka said between breaths, "but it's obvious he not coming!"
"He's right Aang! We need your glider!"
Unsatisfied by their responses to his question, Aang angrily withdrew his glider once more, grunting as Katara and Sokka practically leaped on to him. They would have been able to soar into the sky, high above the moon-tinted clouds, unseen in the blackness, had they not been prevented to do so. They were but ten feet into the sky when an arrow sped clean through the air, successfully piercing one of the glider's wings. With a shriek they crashed down through the twining branches, colliding painfully with a bed of leaves and twigs.
On the ground, Katara groaned. Feebly she pushed herself up with wobbly arms. "What happened?"
"The soldiers," Sokka rasped, "used arrows to shoot us down."
"My. . . glider." Aang, lying prone on the ground, blinked furiously to rid of his blurred vision. Then he positioned himself on his hands and knees, and made his way slowly to his damaged glider.
His lip quivered as he stared at the toy he'd had all his life; tears brimmed his eyes— slowly, he reached down to touch his childhood memory—
when out of nowhere a wave of rock sped toward the boy. Caught off-guard, he had no time to escape it, and soon found his arm immobilized in the Earth trap.
At least a handful of Gansu soldiers appeared before them, their faces stern and set in masks of revile. "You're all under arrest for burglary," snapped one, bitterly, his fists clenched at his sides.
But a flash of movement interrupted the Earthbender, and from out the bushes leaped an enormous creature. Astride wasthe silhouette of a woman. Her features were indistinct, but her voice sent a barrage of memories flooding into Katara's mind.
"Avatar." Her voice was impure and tainted as it issued like honey from her lips, saturated with the deeds of her past. "I've found you."
"Jun!" exclaimed Aang. Heart racing, his attempts to free his arm from the between the jagged rocks now grew frantic.
They all heard the low chuckle that came from her then. "That's right."
No further statements followed, as her pet gave a nasty battle cry, starting forward to her prize. In response Aang shut his eyes against the awaited pain of its venomous tongue. However, it never came.
For instead the Earthbenders had begun to create waves of earth to block her path. They knew not of who she was, yet somehow--- subliminally it came to them that this woman possessed ill intentions.
Meanwhile, in that moment of opportunity, Sokka's head snapped to Katara, who stared petrified. "Katara!" Daze suddenly distracted, she turned to her brother. "Run! Get outta here!"
Her brow furrowed incredulously. "What! Sokka, what're you— "
"Just go! Me and Aang'll catch up with you! Just... go find Oppa!"
She hesitated a moment. It felt . . . wrong, just leaving them here. But then again, what could she do? They were near water, but not near enough. And other than Waterbending, she veritably had no sort of defense, unlike Sokka and Aang had. If she made haste and found Oppa, they could at least get out of there as quickly as possible.
Besides, she had the scroll. If she could get away, and meet up with them, then this could work.
Thus, upon rapid conclusion, she acquiesced to Sokka's demand, and hightailed it in the opposite direction. She meandered almost blindly through the trees, struggling to regain her banished breath. her heart pounded wildly in her ears, her heartbeat throbbing wildly in her ears.
As she made it to a traveler's path, a mild relief ran though her. However, it did not slow her down, and she continued to run relentlessly. Mentally, she clawed past the fear in her mind to seek out the memory of where exactly they had left Oppa, only to find it eluding her grasp. She heard a noise from behind and quickened her pace, throwing a glance over her shoulder.
Her eyes had become barely accustomed to the darkness that met them, even now, after all this time. She could see nothing behind her. And, convinced she'd been hearing things, she turned back, just in time for a hot pain to permeate like molasses through her head. It hurt like hell, throbbed with the intensity of placing a red iron to one's skin. Vaguely she registered the ground no longer being beneath her feet, and the feeling of damp leaves against her back. Her vision had already tunneled in, a fuzzy black which continued to spread like a virus across her eyes.
She fought it, pushed away the darkness which closed in on her; she did her best did regain her thoughts, which began flooding from her mind like the contents that escape from a shattered cup. But it was like trying to dish up that water with one's bare hands, and with every small amount she was able to regain, she only lost more. It was slipping away through her fingers. Soon she could not even remember why she needed to fight, and instead she relinquished her efforts, allowing the nothingness to invade her mind and senses.
It had to have been about the hundredth time his Uncle mentioned tea. It would be every so often, usually after a heavy silence, when he would suddenly sigh, and say, "Some tea sounds good right now. Jasmin, preferably."
Over and over, and each time, it was gradually wearing down on the young Prince's nerves. He knew being a leader consisted of patience and a level head, but dear spirits he wasn't sure he could when it came to his uncle.
"Yes," Iroh drawled with a slight inclination of his head, apparently lost in his imagination. "Some hot Jasmin tea; it relaxes the mind, you know."
Zuko closed his eyes, breathed in slowly. "Yes, Uncle. I know."
"You shall have some with me when we return to the ship."
Another deep breath. "Yes, Uncle, I will."
"And we will play the Sungi horn to also relieve the senses."
He earned a growl at that. "Now you're pushing it."
Iroh gave a humorous laugh, pulling the reigns slightly on the creature beneath him.
Then abruptly, Zuko became alert, as something silhouetted caught his eye. It lay unmoving on the path ahead, its stillness like that of a predator before it pounces, making Zuko all the more tense.
In his observation,the Prince had been unaware that Iroh had continued to talk (most likely about tea). "Uncle," he said, silencing the old man, "do you see that?"
Iroh blinked, squinted a moment. Then, in mild shame, "My eyes are old, Prince Zuko. What is it? I do not see anything."
For a moment Zuko did not respond, as he continued to observe the thing in suspicion. Then, quietly, barely above a whisper: "There's . . . something in the road."
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