Avatar: The Last Airbender Created By: Michael Dante DiMartino, Bryan Konietzko
Avatar: The Last Airbender Owned By: Nickelodeon, a subsidiary of Viacom
All original content and characters © Acastus


Chapter XXXI – The Desert

The stars shone brightly overhead as the Fire Nation column struggled southwards. The Nasu Plain lay a hundred and twenty leagues behind. Before them the Dune Sea stretched endlessly from horizon to horizon. Mostly a sand desert, there were nevertheless many areas that were hard pan, where rocky outcroppings eloquently expressed the relentless erosion of wind and sand in stark sculptures of stone.

Corona, Phoenix and Sozin's Comet had departed under Chieng's command as planned nearly a week before the rest of the army had gathered its last stragglers. At first the army followed their trail, but as soon as the sand dunes appeared the track had soon been lost. They headed south and slightly east, taking star sightings regularly to keep them on the agreed course. When the areas of hard pan were encountered the army was able to speed up noticeably, and they were gratified to see unmistakable signs of Chieng's passing in these places.

Iroh and Gan stood on the bridge of the Constellation, once again poring over the campaign map mounted on the operations table. The tank train motored slowly ahead, keeping rough pace with the infantry laboring alongside, their breath showing in the cold night air. Behind the infantry dust trails indicated the other leviathans and armor bringing up the rear.

"How much water do we have left, Gan?"

"Two days."

Iroh did not reply. He already knew the answer, but he asked each day nevertheless. They had brought just enough fuel to reach Mequon, and filled every other sealed tank wagon with water. Even with severe rationing they could not hope to get through the desert unless Chieng succeeded.

"How far have we come tonight?"

"Six leagues, pretty good so far," Gan replied, looking over at the Chief Boiler Operator's station, "At this rate we should make one or two more before sunrise."

Leaning over the map, Iroh used a straight edge to plot their likely position at the end of the day's march.

"That would put us… about… here."

"Yes."

"That leaves about forty leagues before we reach the first of the salt lakes."

"Yes, so we're still in trouble," the Qu'ai Tau confirmed.

"Three days without water at least," Iroh asserted grimly, "assuming Chieng found the first lake suitable for her experiment and assuming the charts are roughly correct… and we know how well that worked out at Myojin."

"This doesn't look so good either, Iroh," Gan observed quietly.

"No," the young general admitted, "It doesn't, but we're committed."

"That we most certainly are."

Iroh pushed the straight edge away and stood up. The crescent moon cast a ghostly light over the silent landscape. The forward view ports showed nothing but desiccated, wasted land stretching endlessly to the horizon. Apparently devoid of life, the desert seemed like the surface of some alien world. The outside temperature gauge on the dashboard registered nothing.

"Below freezing again tonight," Iroh observed.

"Nothing to retain heat out here," Gan explained and not for the first time.

"How many tonight do you think?"

"Probably about the same."

Men had died each of the last several nights on the march due to exposure. Each night Iroh marched with the infantry, unable to ride in the comfort of a dreadnought while common soldiers suffered. Nikon had threatened to chain him up in the belly of the Constellation to keep him from taking the risk, but Iroh ignored the threat. He had pointed out Nikon's hypocrisy in the matter as his daimyo had quietly done the same.

They had anticipated the water shortage, but not the cold. Given the inevitable choice of moving during the day or at night, the clear consensus had been to march at night. The days were blistering hot and the men sheltered in holes dug hastily in the sand or hardpan to get as much sleep as they could. Even the tank crews did this since the metal machines became ovens after only a few hours in the sun.

At night, however, the temperature dropped precipitously, and exposed skin, cracked and sunburnt despite the precautions, quickly became numb. Every blanket in store had been distributed, but there were few coats, as the original plan had never envisioned winter or heavy mountain warfare. Those blessed by Agni with the gift of fire could for the most part, depending on their stamina and degree of mastery of their element, ward off the deadly cold. Those who were not so favored suffered.

"Anything further from Tien Shin?" Gan inquired after a few moments of observation.

"Not a peep."

The former daimyo had accepted the loss of his former status without comment or visible reaction, and to his credit Nikon had not abused his new position though he was sorely tempted. The elder prince, for the moment in operational command of the armor, had ridden atop the point command tank and followed every order without complaint.

"He's up to something, Iroh," Gan speculated with intensity, "he's planning something. You know he was probably behind the army's refusal to move into the desert."

"What can he do?" the young general replied, ignoring the accusation though he privately agreed with the conclusion, "I'm sure he intends to write a letter to Lady Ila as soon as we can get to Mequon, but that's all he can really do."

Gan laughed bitterly, "Really? He's going to run to mommy?"

"Yes, I think so. She knows how to manipulate father through his fears as well as he does. Perhaps better, because of course she is the one who showed him how. If Tien Shin is ambitious, it is his mother who made him so. If I have an enemy, it is she."

The Qu'ai Tau hesitated a moment, then asked, "What about your brother?"

"Ozai?" Iroh said with some surprise, "My brother is ambitious, but he is not my enemy," then, with a thoughtful expression, "Well, perhaps we shall see about that as well."

Gan, nonplussed by this response, continued with the prior train of thought.

"What will Tien Shin say to her, do you think?"

"The truth, I imagine," came the dull reply, "and she will try to poison the Fire Lord against me, probably by saying that I intend to use my illegally seized army to overthrow him."

"Oh, that's just preposterous," Gan scoffed.

"Of course," Iroh agreed, "but Master Chen is most likely dead on much less evidence than there is against me. I did in fact seize control of the army against the second in command appointed by my father. In the land of the desperate and paranoid, I'm afraid that's an open and shut case."

The Qu'ai Tau considered this, his face darkening, for he knew Iroh had become a good judge of such dangers.

"Well, we don't have any long range messenger hawks left, so he can't send any messages unless we reach Mequon… and you and I both know Rhiannon won't help him. She wouldn't piss on him if he were on fire."

"No," Iroh agreed, "she won't help him under any circumstance."

A few moments of sullen silence passed before Gan asked the ominous question that hung between them.

"Do you think you'll be arrested then if we survive?"

"That depends on the outcome here, my friend," the young general equivocated, "as I said to Tien Shin, if we destroy Nifong and his army, then no, probably not. Even if my father suspects me, he wouldn't support it. The people need a hero; there have been none for many years."

"You're becoming quite a politician," the accountant observed with a wry expression.

"I have to, don't I? If I expect to survive…" his voice trailed away.

"What?" Gan prompted.

"Just something Xian was trying to tell me before we left," he answered, sadness etching itself once again on his face.

"We all miss him," Gan observed gently.

"I know."

Iroh abandoned the flight deck of the Constellation to resume his lonely march.


Four days passed. The Army of the Great Divide desperately searched the sky. If Chieng succeeded, she was supposed to launch a flare every six hours from her camp as a signal. They had seen nothing. It was almost daybreak and dawn's rosy fingers already stained the eastern horizon. Iroh and his companions knew they would not live to see another.

The last of the water had been distributed the evening before last. Exhausted, suffering from exposure and lack of sleep, the army had suffered badly. Hundreds had died of cold, scorpion bites and buzzard wasp stings. Some had disobeyed orders and drank cactus juice. A few who tried the bitter liquid died almost instantly, but most had gone mad and ran into the desert despite all efforts to restrain them. Some veterans of Lake Myojin who drank the juice, tortured by their memories, had suffered flashbacks of the battle. Screaming in rage they had attacked their own comrades. These terrifying episodes had resulted in the summary execution of these miserable unfortunates.

The effects of dehydration on the weakened men had been swift. More had passed to the spirit world in the last day than had died during the whole march. Morale had broken down completely under the effects of deprivation, exposure and stress, but the army refused to give in. Each of them had made a free decision and they would see it through to the bitter end.

The young general had marched with the infantry since they had entered the desert. Nikon had started once they started to lose people due to the cold. Now that the water had run out, Gan joined them as well, declining to remain in a tank train while his companions died around him.

The soldiers had not cheered them when they appeared, for they knew now why they marched alongside them. Still, many saluted and cast expressions of gratitude for having commanders whose last act was to perish with their comrades. Around them the labored, harsh breathing of the men sounded like death rattles.

The desert went on forever. Heaps of sand that offered no sure footing spread in all directions. The wind was constant and seemed to come from all directions. During the day it was stifling hot and at night it was biting cold. At all times it carried dust and sand that irritated lungs and skin.

Iroh felt dizzy. The alien world before him spun in slight exaggeration of his own footsteps. He tried to combat the unnerving sensation by keeping his eyes focused on the sandy terrain underneath him. When he yielded to the temptation to scan the horizon, hoping against hope to see salvation in the form of an exploding flower in the sky, his perception rocked and leered dreadfully.

Gan coughed beside him, his lips already cracked and bleeding. Nikon fared no better. An enormous skeleton of some long extinct creature lay exposed, bleached a blinding white, on a nearby dune. None stopped to investigate, as many who had stopped for any reason found themselves unable to continue.

He thought of many things as the minutes and hours passed in warped, slow motion. Walking the gardens in the palace at midsummer… playing with Gan, Xian and Rhiannon as children… the first time he mastered lightning… the vision he had long ago of standing triumphant before the palace of the Earth King inside the mighty walls of Ba Sing Se…the nightmare at Nomura… but most of all... most of all he thought of her.

She must be dead, Iroh thought bitterly, but mercifully could shed no tears, I sent her away to die and now… now I have killed us all.

The march went on. They hadn't spoken in hours, it hurt too much. Iroh's head pounded with a blistering headache and he felt dreadfully nauseous. He prayed he did not vomit – vomiting in this condition meant death.

The sun peeked over the horizon.

"Do you regret… regret coming with me?" Iroh finally croaked to his friends, not sure how much longer his feet would carry him.

Nikon put a hand on his shoulder, smiled and shook his head.

"Ask tomorrow," Gan dared to reply with a grin, his voice an unrecognizable rasp.

Iroh would have laughed if he had been able. How could there be any tomorrow? They were finished.

Moments later the sky to the southeast flowered orange and then red, followed closely by a dull report.