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 XLIII – The Prisoner
Iroh ran blindly through the darkness, the gallop of ostrich horses and the impact of falling boulders growing loud in his ears. He gasped for air, his lungs burning after running for so long in full armor and almost stumbled over the body of a comrade felled moments before by a hail of green shafted arrows.
The outer wall of the city reared up before him. The gate and its watch towers remained unscathed, but huge sections of the wall on either side had been blasted to pieces. The ground was littered with the smashed and twisted remains of the metal fortifications.
As he reached the wall Azulon's son dropped and rolled underneath a shattered piece of the superstructure. Around him hundreds of Fire Nation soldiers did the same. The field behind them was littered with red swathed bodies, some dying, many dead. The Earth Kingdom cavalry had dismounted when they sighted the fortress walls. Using square formations they marched slowly across the gently rolling steppe that dominated the region.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
Earlier that day the Crown Prince, following the plan, had moved the Fire Nation First Corps out of the eastern gates of Mequon. The lookouts had reported that the vanguard of the enemy was now less than ten leagues east of the city. Iroh's job was as simple as it was vital. He now had to attract the attention of the enemy's lead forces and prevent them from coming to the aid of the Earth Kingdom Second Corps, which was even then drawing nigh to Vyazma and the Field of Coins some thirty leagues farther north and east along the Silk Road.
Scout reports continued to show that the enemy column was spread out. The problem was even worsening as the days had passed. The main body of the Army of the Granite Mountains was by most accounts around ninety leagues east of its Jenju's First Corps. While Iroh was satisfied with this circumstance, it did little more, he knew, than give the Army of the Great Divide a sporting chance against a far larger and better supplied opponent.
Deciding not to show his full strength at the outset, Iroh had brought forth one division within eyesight of the enemy as it approached. Rhiannon's admonishment had weighed heavily on the young general, so he had left the Constellation just outside of the city's outer walls and resolved himself to lead the formation that was used as bait.
The Earth Kingdom vanguard had risen to the challenge more enthusiastically than planned. The moment Iroh's soldiers had displayed their colors the lead division of the enemy's forces, by all accounts Colonel Fong's vaunted Seventh Cavalry, had charged instantly instead of attempting to reconnoiter. A pitched battle erupted in which Iroh's forces had experienced significant losses. Driven back in disarray, they had attempted several times to form a firing line, but the line had never survived the impact of the succeeding charge. The retreat had rapidly descended into a rout.
Now, forced to defend the outer fortifications of Mequon itself, Iroh's forces were pinned down and unable to organize. Colonel Jenju had deployed her two massive tension catapults, named Ying and Wang for the twin Spirits of the Underworld, just outside the range of the Fire Nation ballistae along the city's outer wall. For three hours these fearsome pieces of artillery had blasted huge sections of the outer wall to pieces with stones that weighed several tons each.
The Earth Kingdom line halted its advance. The front rank of the enemy, their round helmets illuminated by the firebender's art, moved in frightening unison to create a low wall and a trench which they manned instantly. There they stayed while Ying and Wang alternated firing their massive stone projectiles at the rapidly disintegrating metal barrier protecting Mequon. Even in the moonlight their enormous size and solid construction made them clearly visible from the Fire Nation lines.
"What the hell are they doing? Why aren't they attacking?" yelled a severe looking shaven headed soldier who had rolled down next to the Crown Prince. He wore a captain's uniform, golden earrings in his nose and ears, and a topknot.
"They stopped to give their artillery enough time to finish breaching the outer wall," the young general replied amidst the sound of the next titanic impact.
"Who the hell is in charge of this operation anyway!?" cried a nameless soldier from above him.
"I don't know," Iroh shouted over the din, "but they ought to burn him!"
Several nearby soldiers voiced hearty agreement at this sentiment. Behind them another soldier screamed in high pitched, blood curdling agony, and then stopped.
"We've got to get rid of those catapults!" the shaven officer exclaimed in frustration.
"Yes, Captain," the young general agreed instantly, "and I'm going to need you to figure out how we're going to make that happen."
The severe looking man suddenly focused on Iroh, his expression hard and calculating.
"Who are you?"
Iroh turned to look at the shaven headed officer full on.
"I am General Iroh, and your name, Captain?"
The severe young officer saluted as best he could from a prone position and smiled fiercely in recognition. A shower of stone fragments rained down from a nearby impact.
"Captain Mongke, your Highness, and my men and I would be glad to get this done for you. We'll scout 'round and report back."
"Very good, Captain," Iroh replied, pleased at Mongke's attitude, "and in the meantime I'll get this mess back in order."
"Right! Kachi!" the shaven man shouted to the nameless soldier who had spoken earlier, "Let's go!"
The Crown Prince and the captain rolled out from underneath their temporary shelter to make good on their promises. Iroh knew both tasks would be easier said than done.
Hours had passed. After reestablishing communication, the Fire Nation line had finally stabilized amidst the ruins of the outer wall. Massive rocks still rained down from the mighty catapults of the enemy, but the defenders shot them out of the sky and made great use of the cover offered by the wreckage. The eastern gate still stood, but the northern tower and its ballista had been destroyed a short while before.
Iroh watched, drenched in sweat, as waves of green clad pike men retreated across the burning no man's land that had developed between the two armies. The opponents were evenly matched and now that the Fire Nation forces had reorganized the conflict had rapidly become a bloody war of attrition. Both sides had counterattacked and failed. The only visible change was the drumbeat of the huge Earth Kingdom catapults which made steady progress dismantling the outer wall of the city.
His body protested as it seldom had before. He surveyed his own lines once more from his makeshift headquarters, or as much of them as could be seen from the light of the burning landscape. The red clad soldiers were exhausted. Every one of them had heard about the nightmare of Cemetery Ridge, but none of these men had experienced it. Now, hard pressed themselves, they wondered how much harder it must have to been to be surrounded and without hope on that distant lake shore.
Whatever hope the soldiers took from such reflection was lost on their commander. The few moments that battle allowed his mind to wander brought punishing guilt for their current predicament. The plan had been for him to pin Jenju down, not vice versa. He had lost thousands of soldiers in minutes, been forced back to the city itself where his forces were literally jammed up against a rapidly disintegrating wall, and was a heartbeat away from losing the entire colony regardless of the outcome elsewhere.
A messenger approached the Crown Prince. She was filthy and ragged, her sleeves bearing the burn marks of her own firebending. She saluted and handed the general two scraps of paper. Iroh read them quickly. Colonel Hirano, in command of the left flank, needed direction on how to meet the cavalry charge soon expected in that quarter.
Iroh made a motion without looking at the runner who produced a writing implement at the unspoken command and handed it over. The young general then sat heavily on a keg and used an adjacent stack of boxes as a desk.
"Any sappers?" the young general inquired as he scribbled the instructions.
"Yes, sir," the woman replied, "Two tunnels under Twelfth Infantry."
"We heard some explosions about a half hour ago," Iroh murmured, "was that it?"
"Yes, sir, both were blown as soon as we felt the vibrations."
"They'll go deeper next time," he predicted.
"Yes, General," the messenger agreed grimly, "that's what they did at Edo."
Azulon's looked up briefly to see the woman's face. She was probably a little younger than he, but she had lived a lifetime and it showed. He looked down to finish penning the orders.
"What else?"
"Colonel Nguyen has been badly wounded. Major Han is now in command of Fourth Infantry."
Iroh grunted in acknowledgement. Nguyen was a good soldier, but prone to expose himself in combat. Han was capable and would likely soon be promoted given this news.
"Also, Captain Mongke and his men have returned with a prisoner, your Highness."
He stood and handed the scraps of paper back.
"Send them to me, and take this to Colonel Hirano. Have the other taken by the next runner in the queue to Colonel Jian."
The messenger saluted and left.
A few minutes later Captain Mongke returned with his small band of soldiers. A man in manacles walked between them. The prisoner wore faded blue pants of an unfamiliar material, a wide brimmed hat and over his chest what looked like a blanket or cloak with a hole in the center for his head. The cloak was grey, brown and white and barely decorated with a simple geometric pattern.
"Good news, General," the bald roughneck began without preamble, "The dirt slingers have a lot of gaps in their lines, so we were able to scout out a way to get to those monster catapults pretty much undetected."
This was as much as Iroh had dared hope.
"Excellent, Captain, did you get a good look at them?"
Mongke proceeded to give a first hand account of the artillery's size, construction and camp disposition.
"There's probably another dozen smaller artillery pieces on the low ridge immediately north as well," he concluded, "but they aren't the problem. The problem is the artillery operators and the dirt slingers they have guarding them. There must two or three hundred enemy at all times."
Iroh grunted at the implication. Even if Mongke and his men accepted a suicide mission, the likelihood of success with a straight up firebending raid was low.
"Well, we better think of something, Captain, before they tighten up their lines," then, indicating the captive, "So who's this?"
Mongke motioned to his men to have the prisoner brought forth.
"A little keepsake, sir, we captured him on the way back. He was trying to cross over to the enemy. We thought he might be a Water Tribe spy, so we brought him in for questioning."
Iroh examined the stranger. His face was weather beaten. The prisoner squinted narrowly at the young general. His eyes, cold and flinty, calmly assessed everything around him. He looked as if he had traveled many lifetimes on dusty roads seldom used. Iroh had never seen anyone like him before.
"He was carrying these," Mongke continued, "We think they're weapons of some kind."
The muscle bound captain passed over to Iroh a dark leather belt with two holsters and dozens of small metal tubes held fast by tight leather loops. From each of the holsters a wooden handle protruded.
"Weapons?" Iroh asked, touching one of the handles lightly.
The prisoner nodded, his expression impassive.
"Are you Water Tribe? You don't look like it."
"No, General," the prisoner replied in a soft, even voice that betrayed a touch of steel.
"Where are you from then?"
The prisoner looked briefly at the ground then back at the Crown Prince.
"Ellinoy."
The name was foreign and Iroh didn't quite catch it.
"Never heard of it. Where is that?"
"East, I believe."
"Is that where you're going?"
"That's the idea, General… but I understand it's hard to get there these days."
Iroh considered this briefly then shook his head.
"I don't have time for games, my friend; can you tell me why I shouldn't have you reduced to ashes right now and be done with you? In case you can't tell, I've got bigger problems."
"Yes," the stranger acknowledged, shooting a quick glance in the direction of the enormous Earth Kingdom siege engines laying waste to the city, "two big problems as a matter of fact. I might be able to help you with those… if I'm not a pile of ashes, that is."
"Oh," Iroh queried, his eyebrow arching, "how is that?"
"Well," he replied, pointing with a manacled hand at the stack of boxes Iroh had used to write his orders, "if you give me a few charges of that blasting powder over there… and let me go on my way... you might hear something you like if you keep your ears open."
Mongke nudged the prisoner in a gesture of suspicion.
"Really, stranger? What's to stop you from throwing those charges right back at us?"
"Because you're going to carry them for me, Captain," the weather beaten drifter responded as if the matter had already been settled, "and because I need to cross this battlefield… and this is the only way."
Mongke started and looked quickly over at his superior. Whatever he was, the stranger exuded an aura of quiet confidence, a fact which both he and Iroh appreciated.
"Is that so?" Mongke finally responded, openly intrigued by the suggestion.
"Well, Captain," the Crown Prince offered, "that was your plan anyway, right?"
"Yes, General, as a matter of fact it was, or Vachir's anyway."
At this the black clad soldier with a face shield next to Mongke crossed his arms.
Iroh looked the prisoner up and down once again. A decision had to be made. From the quiet corners of his mind Fate spoke to him.
"He's your risk if you take him, Captain, so I leave the decision to you."
The prisoner looked over at his captor, his hard, bright eyes boring into him.
"We'll take him, General," Mongke said finally after exchanging glances with each of his men, "I don't know where he's from, but as long as he's not a dirt slinger or a snow savage I don't care. He's a hard case, like us… and hard cases are needed for this job."
After a moment the prisoner lifted his manacled hands in obvious suggestion. Mongke gestured to the soldier Iroh knew now to be named Kachi. Extremely broad and powerfully built, Kachi stepped forward and produced a small metal needle which he used to unlock the manacles. Once removed the stranger rubbed his wrists and looked over first at Iroh, then at the belt he still held in his hands.
Iroh looked down at the belt himself then back at its owner. In one swift motion he tossed it over. The stranger caught it and secured it around his waist, the wooden handles barely protruding from underneath his cloak.
"How long will you need?"
"About half an hour, your Highness," Mongke replied, "if we don't run into pickets. No matter what though we'll need some help to escape."
"Don't worry, Captain, the moment you light them up that will be our signal to attack."
Two of Mongke's men opened the top most box on the stack next to the barrel and removed several explosive charges. They would need them if sappers were detected in the area, but Mongke only needed two bundles.
"Play me false, stranger, and we won't be the only ones to die, I promise you," Mongke threatened.
The drifter did not reply. Instead he looked once again at Iroh. He touched the rim of his hat in a gesture of respect.
"General."
He turned to leave, the others preparing to follow.
"One more thing."
The piercing eyes turned back to the Crown Prince.
"Out of curiosity, friend… Have you ever heard of a place called… West Portal?"
The weathered man nodded.
"Yeh, a real tragedy… almost as bad as Zeneca," then with a glint in his hard eyes continued, "Out of curiosity, General… why do you ask?"
"I don't know."
Iroh waited.
"Best to keep out of things like that, General, you have enough on your hands. Besides… that was a long time ago, and the world has moved on."
He tipped his hat once again and left, his new Fire Nation companions close behind.
6
