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 XLVII – Heart of Darkness
The green clad soldier, disciplined and careful, swung deftly at the opening Tien Shin had provided. The elder prince instantly brought down a closed war fan on the man's arm and was rewarded with the sharp crack of bone even through the protection of a well-wrought gauntlet. His off-hand fan swung wide and impacted on the side of his opponent's visor, knocking it clean off.
Steely gray eyes met the former daimyo's intense brown orbs. His opponent, in an amazing display of skill and willpower, threw the round shield he held in his undamaged hand, forcing the Fire Nation prince to waste a move parrying the blow. He easily knocked the shield out of the way, but the Earth Kingdom defender now brandished the sword in his left hand. His right arm was now useless, but if he was in pain, the green clad soldier did not show it.
Spinning rapidly, Tien Shin's opponent pulled two large stones out of the earth and kicked them at his enemy. Too large to deflect with his fans, Tien Shin barely leapt out of the way, landing in a classic firebending stance. After a split second to master his breath and close his tessen so that the knuckles of each hand were exposed, he launched two plumes of bright orange fire, one of which caught his opponent on the shoulder above his wounded arm. The man staggered, but refused to fall.
Tien Shin knew he would win this fight, but he had been forced to privately acknowledge the mettle of his opponents. Like their element, stalwart and enduring, they fought to the death.
"Won't these filthy savages ever give up?"
The question rose unbidden for only an instant, flashing across his mind like a shooting star. He suppressed it for a host of reasons he had neither the time nor the desire to analyze.
Fire was superior and victory for the Fire Lord was all that mattered.
Tien Shin sidestepped to the left, his opponent quickly matching his rotation by stepping to the right. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a red clad figure wielding a long spear, one of his own bodyguards, dart between him and his prey. There was no chance to get him out of the way; he would just have to make use of the intervention. The Earth Kingdom soldier reversed course and swung his blade, striking the Fire Nation guard between the shoulders blades as he passed. The guard, overextended, took the blow and fell to the ground.
The elder prince, seeing his opportunity, lunged forward. His opponent, moving to eliminate the guard while he was down, used his sword arm to launch one of the stones Tien Shin had avoided at his prostrate opponent's head. Tien Shin stepped over his would be protector's body and in a move so fast the Earth Kingdom soldier never even saw it, unfurled the war fan in his right hand and sliced his opponent's neck wide open.
Blood spurted over the Corps Commander's breastplate. He landed a flaming kick to the dying soldier's torso as the stone he had launched landed on the bodyguard's head with a sickening crunch.
Moments later he was alone.
Around him the battle continued to rage. Tien Shin's Second Corps had taken the fight directly to the remains of Liu's own Second Corps after the devastation wrought by the Inferno and the Firestorm. Disoriented, badly wounded, and blinded by smoke, the Earth Kingdom forces had been badly outmatched. The fighting here was almost over.
TIen Shin turned to see he had an audience. Commander Tojo, flanked by a pair of soldiers, had just arrived.
"Greetings, your Highness," he saluted.
"Tojo," he acknowledged.
"We have a victory, Highness," the older man observed, sweeping the battlefield before them with his eyes.
"Yes, we do, Commander, and I assume the fighting in your assigned sector is concluded in our favor or else you would not be here?
Suddenly nervous, Tojo replied, "Yes, sir, and to bring you this."
A scroll exchanged hands. Tien Shin scanned it quickly then looked up to survey his surroundings once again. They stood in the shallow depression between two low rises and could see little beyond them.
"Come with me," he commanded.
Within moments they crested the nearest hill. The smoke and haze from the rocket attacks had largely dissipated. He produced his sight glass from his gauntlet. He looked to the northeast, but could not make anything out. Beside him Tojo did the same.
"See anything, Commander?"
"No, sir, no enemy at any rate, but there's the Inferno…" he responded, pointing to the east as he looked through his own instrument, "and that must be Nova behind her."
"Makes sense since they sent the message."
"Vyazma must be a little too far away for us to see."
Tien Shin considered the situation. Nifong must aware by this time that unexpected combat had been joined with a new Fire Nation force and was moving to support his beleaguered Second Corps. He might not know that his Second Corps had been destroyed. So much the better.
"We're finished here, Commander. Time to move. We have to complete the secondary envelopment as planned before Nifong does the same to us."
"If my idiot "brother" hasn't been handed his head by Jenju, that is," he thought with decidedly mixed emotions.
"Yes, your Highness, do you want my division on the right then?"
Tojo had just made the politically correct move of offering himself for the most dangerous role. As his outfit wheeled to its left to pick up the Silk Road, his right would be exposed to the vanguard of Nifong's Third Corps.
Tien Shin pursed his lips in thought.
"No, Commander, I will lead the right and I will issue orders for immediate departure. Don't bother with the dead or the wounded. Anyone who can't keep up will be left behind."
Tojo opened his mouth to reply, but then, thinking better of it, shut it with an audible click.
Tien Shin felt the hesitation and turned to his subordinate. A knowing smile spread across his sharp features.
"There is one rule out here, Commander. Just one. Remember it well. Win. Win and they will forgive you anything."
Tojo saluted and left.
The audience, quiet for much of the tale and ebullient during the description of Lake Myojin, had begun to heckle the storyteller during his graphic description of the rocket attack, the execution of the prisoners and the elder prince's actions.
"Murderers!" spat more than a few, their eyes aflame.
"They don't even honor their own dead!" shouted one.
"And they call us savages!" remonstrated another.
"Death to the Fire Nation!" chanted others as if reciting a mantra.
In the Fire Nation such conduct at a performance was simply unheard of, particularly amongst the nobility, and would result in the reprobate's instant banishment from polite society. Such an offense in the Fire Lord's presence would almost certainly result in far worse, but indeed Iroh could not recall such an event ever happening. Such behavior was simply beyond the imagining of a people steeped in hierarchy, the necessity of proper manners to avoid offense, and the iron discipline to control the most dangerous of elements at all levels of society.
Iroh registered the impropriety and sensed Zuko's predictable reaction. He could feel his nephew's tension. His body was stiff, the muscles in his hands, now curled into fists, taut. Anger seethed and bubbled in his eyes, almost certainly due to the dishonorable accusations rather than the barbaric catcalls made during a performance. He hoped the other guests would mistakenly assume the scarred young man's anger was directed at the Fire Nation. This would only be natural, he knew, given the vivid and damning description of his and his friend's actions in those heady days. Yet unlike his nephew, Iroh was by no means certain the audience was wrong.
Gao paused, sensing that he had lost control of the crowd. He broke his pose, an imperious stance he used to mimic the image of Tien Shin giving orders to his subordinate. Gesturing now to the guests, he addressed them as if they were fellow council members deciding great matters of state.
"Yes, my friends, it is true," he agreed, nodding his head in a gesture of admission, "Prince Tien Shin is the very distillation of the evil essence of our enemies, but he is destined, as you shall see, to a most fitting and inglorious end."
"To hell with the accountant too!" roared a fat man with a grey beard several tables down.
"How can they do these things!?" a pretty young woman from one of the tables catty cornered with the head table asked, clutching her husband, "They're murderers!"
"Iroh's no better than Tien Shin!" yelled another.
Zuko, his countenance stony, risked a glance at his guardian. Iroh looked down at the floor in front of the table, his eyes glassy, his features impassive. He had no visible reaction to the last accusation, but the banished prince sensed it found its unintentional mark nonetheless.
"I agree," Governor Tao asserted with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Iroh and his friends are no better than this vile Tien Shin creature!"
"Oh come now," the merchant of Shanxi wheedled, adopting his most reasonable tone, "You see no difference at all between them?"
"No," Tao replied sternly, "I don't, Trimazu, they both sacrificed the lives of their own people as if they were nothing, murder prisoners without remorse, and commit atrocities with awful weapons mankind has no business wielding."
"That may be so, my friend," the fat man replied with an agreeable laugh and a contrarian tone, "but Iroh marched with the common soldiers in the desert, fought as hard as any man when the defense of his headquarters seemed all but hopeless, and, at least according to Gao here, displays a concern for humanity that Tien Shin does not."
"Trust you to fall for that egalitarian twaddle, Trimazu," Chen Ho injected venomously, "First you weep for a fascist villain and now you've fallen in love with the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation! Unbelievable, even for you."
Chen Ho punctuated his verdict by draining his wine glass once again. He had long since achieved a free flowing, languid stupor that allowed him to comment on the asinine proceedings without becoming captive to it. No matter what barbarity Trimazu subjected his audience to, he would maintain the dignity and honor of the Ho family. He wiped the ends of his long, grey mustache with his napkin and turned to the aged yarn spinner.
"You spin a good tale Master Storyteller, I grant you," admitted the fat merchant's surly neighbor, "but it would be vastly improved if all the fascist scum died!"
"I'll settle for the truth, Lord Ho," the governor disagreed, inadvertently stifling a heated reply from Zuko, and, turning back to Gao continued, "I can only hope our raconteur understands if an educated audience scoffs at his attempt to draw some bogus distinction between these Fire Nation criminals!"
Zuko's mind swirled with anger and shame. Anger at his uncle for not telling him any of this, anger at this gang of green-clad apes who refused to acknowledge their betters, shame at Xian's defeat, and shame that he could not speak in this place in answer to the dishonorable charges laid against the Fire Nation and his family.
He didn't even realize he'd stood up. Suddenly all eyes turned to him, Tao's with equanimity, Trimazu's with surprise, and Chen Ho's as if he were observing an insect.
Zuko looked down, his arms were partially raised, his fists already balled. He was no more than a second from wreathing his hands fire… and that, he suddenly realized, would be the end of the story.
Strangely enough, that very thought prompted the banished prince to hesitate. What happened at Mequon and how did his uncle prevail? He of course knew of the famous victory and had studied the tactics, but this sterile knowledge paled in comparison to the living story unfolding before him like a sail on a sun lit sea. Who was this mysterious Rhiannon? He knew her family's name, but not hers. What were the fates of Nikon and Chieng? The latter couldn't have been Lu-Ten's mother, could it? That had been Aunt Ten-Ten, though she had died when he was very young and Zuko remembered little about her. He knew of Prince Tien Shin, one of the few characters in the story he had heard of before this night, and he knew of the duel, but he did not know it had been with his uncle.
In a night full of surprises this last fact had come as no surprise to him. Much of the dark side of his family's history, and so much of it was dark, was shrouded in silence, as he knew all too well from his mother's disappearance.
As he stood before this audience of green-clad barbarians, he found he wanted answers to these questions as much or more than he wanted to exact revenge on them for their insults. The hesitation saved them both.
Iroh suddenly stood up and stretched.
"Excellent idea, nephew, we should make use of this break to visit the rest room."
The retired general looked over to the master of the house.
"Generous lord, may we have your permission to withdraw for a moment before the story continues?"
Trimazu smiled, turned slightly and snapped his fingers. A servant appeared instantly.
"Yes, your Rotundity?"
"Show young Li here to the facilities, and make sure to highlight the tile and the glazing!"
The servant moved to lead Zuko away. Iroh looked slightly confused.
"And the toilet seats! Don't forget the toilet seats! Twelve hundred gold a piece! I have the receipts!"
"Pardon, Lord," Iroh interrupted, "May I join them? I too…"
Zuko's guardian crossed his legs tightly indicating his most pressing need.
The bloated merchant's smile grew wider. He waved Iroh back down to his seat with a jewel festooned hand.
"First thing's first, Xian, sit back down for just a moment. You have provided the most wisdom tonight by far, an impressive feat for a street vendor if I do say so myself, though you know as well as I that merchants must be far wiser than they appear if they intend to stay in business!"
Trimazu's eyes sparkled with mischief.
Iroh hesitated a moment then nodded once to his nephew before taking his seat once more. He heard Zuko and the servant's footsteps fade behind him.
He looked on his host with a blank expression. Iroh was already emotionally exhausted, and though he of course knew the rest of the story, he dreaded hearing any more. Yet, he knew it was unavoidable.
"Lord, what do you want from me?"
"Oh, don't worry, he'll tell you, little man," Chen Ho supplied acidly from his right.
Iroh ignored him, his gaze fixed on his obese host.
Trimazu eyed his guest, his free hand playing over the lip of his goblet, a knowing smile wide on his generous lips.
"Why, only to weigh in on this most interesting debate, my friend, and since you are one of the few here who rival me in stature," he added with a pat on his ponderous paunch, "I want to know what difference you think there is between Iroh and Tien Shin?"
Iroh sighed almost imperceptibly and tried to collect his thoughts before making reply.
"Casting about for support from day laborers now?" Chen Ho observed casually during the pause, "But of course, that's entirely fitting."
As Iroh had, the master of the house ignored his neighbor, keeping his eyes on the retired general.
"Oh, don't be silly Trimazu," the governor butted in, "This freedman has travelled the continent and has no doubt seen Fire Nation atrocities up close. Is that not so, Xian?"
"I have seen atrocities, Governor… many," Iroh answered dully.
The flames of Nomura filled his mind once more, followed swiftly by the screams of Diem's dying prisoners, the blasted surface of the Field of Coins, and many other horrors yet to come. He squeezed his eyes shut, and some of the faces of nearby guests showed sympathy for what they assumed were very different memories.
"Then you cannot fail to agree with me. I mean, what difference does it make whether the face of your executioner is kind or not?"
How many times over the ceaseless passage of years had he punished himself with these very questions? Was he no better than Tien Shin? Were he and his friends murderers? Could he have done better? Could he have prevented Lu-Ten's death if he'd gone a different path? There were never any answers… only the grief, the shame, the memory of anger long since shed… and a heart of darkness.
"No, Governor," Iroh finally replied, his voice weary, "No difference that I can tell."
"So," the fat man mused, his tone soft as if he were not entirely convinced, "You believe Iroh and Tien Shin are cut from the same cloth too, eh? No difference?"
"Well, from… our… perspective, no."
"Our?" the obese man queried, obviously intrigued.
"The Earth Kingdom."
"An excellent distinction, Xian!" Trimazu congratulated with a slap on his thunderous thigh.
"Really? What other perspective is there?" Chen Ho drawled.
"The… enemy's, I suppose," Iroh replied somberly.
"Of course," the corpulent merchant added, cocking his head to one side, "We can thank the Earth Spirit there are no fascists here tonight to appreciate such a distinction…"
"Lord Ho is right, Trimazu" Governor Tao injected, "I don't see why the qualification deserves any praise. The bottom line is the Fire Nation thugs are all just a bunch of murdering thieves who are guilty of every crime known to man."
"That still seems harsh, Tao," Trimazu cajoled, "After all, in the defense of our country we have done the same to them and probably worse, I daresay! And who here would condemn the actions we have taken to defend our land, our families and our honor? Nifong himself sacrificed thousands of his own soldiers in the uncertain hope that he would learn something of value, then took advantage of a defenseless enemy to secure his complete destruction and took no prisoners when he did it. Shall we condemn him? Hmmm? Anyone?"
No one responded.
"Of course not!" the Merchant of Shanxi concluded with complete confidence, "He is a hero worthy in every way admiration, but still, does it follow that the title of "defender" indemnifies all of one's acts, mmm? By the same token is the aggressor incapable of doing any good?"
Tao Lin sighed and waved the obese merchant off.
"I don't know, Trimazu, and I see no practical value in those questions. We fight to defend our lands by any means necessary against an aggressor who, even in an embellished tale such as this, shows themselves to be cruel and inhuman."
"By any means necessary?" the Merchant of Shanxi questioned, his jocular demeanor pierced for the moment, "I shudder, Governor Tao, to think that we may have become the very enemy we have beheld."
Tao made a noise of disgust.
"Lord Ho is right again, Trimazu," he retorted stiffly, "You are no patriot and I have no interest in discussing this any further with you."
Chen Ho responded to this with a low, cruel laugh.
"Why do you fall for this every time, Tao?" Chen Ho injected, "You say you have no interest in Trimazu's ridiculous sophistry, but you never fail to provide him the opportunity to force the rest of us to listen to it. You'll pardon me if I have no sympathy for your predicament. He doesn't believe most of what he says."
"I preferred it when he was trying to fart on me," the Governor confessed.
"That can be arranged, my friend!" the fat man promised, before his booming laughter once again echoed throughout the hall, "I feel the dessert loosening my bowels even as we speak!"
Gao, who had taken the opportunity to visit the restroom himself, returned with Zuko in tow.
"But Master Trimazu," the old storyteller injected smoothly, concealing his desperate desire to avoid another scatological disaster, "the evening ebbs swiftly, and if your guests are to be home before sunrise we must continue the tale presently."
The banished prince took his seat next to his uncle once more.
"Of course, Master Storyteller," Trimazu boomed in agreement, "by all means continue!"
"Did I miss anything, uncle?" Zuko asked under his breath.
"No, nothing important."
Zuko suspected this wasn't true, but couldn't press his guardian further in this exposed venue.
The miserable baboon's restrooms had indeed been impressive, even approaching the scale of the Fire Lord's palace, but the banished prince had ignored the glazing, mosaics and gold toilet seats. He tried desperately to remember all the different threads of the story, and question after question cascaded through his mind while he used the facilities. They would almost certainly have to wait until the next day. For now, all he could hope was that some would be answered by the storyteller himself.
Iroh got up and, to his great relief, successfully excused himself to inspect the merchant's expensive glazing.
"Yes," Tao added in grudging agreement with the merchant's instruction, "I suppose it's time to pay for Lake Myojin, so let's get on with it."
The audience was still abuzz with dozens of separate conversations. Though the shouts and slogans had ceased, the guests were still clearly angered by the latest events in the tale.
Gao's eyes swept the room before turning back to the master of the house.
"Give me your peace, generous Lord, and I will gladly give you mine!"
The obese mischief maker laughed and motioned to a servant with a long staff who stood against the wall where Gao's curule chair was kept. The servant banged the floor three times with his staff, ringing the banquet hall like a bell.
"Master Trimazu calls for silence!" the servant roared in a thunderous voice.
Seeing that the storyteller was ready to continue the audience complied.
"The noble Lord Governor speaks true. The time has come, esteemed guests, for the tragedy of Mequon to conclude… for now we will learn the final fate of Deng Zev Nifong and his gallant Army of the Granite Mountains… and Iroh shall come to know that great victories often demand the most awful sacrifices…"
