Avatar: The Legend of Korra
Followers of the Black God
Chapter One
(I should note that in this fic, people will react to injuries much more realistically than they seem to in the canon universe. In other words, one who takes a direct hit from a firebender without blocking, dodging, or mitigating the attack in another method will be badly burned.)
"Remember, Korra. Avoid going hotter than red, and if you go hotter than orange at all, you will fail this test."
The words of her firebending master rang in her ears even then, as she put on the tough, composite armor that would protect her from bumps, bruises, cuts, and, most importantly, burns.
It wasn't impervious, of course—a yellow flame would sear flesh underneath it easily; blue and white flames would scorch past it without difficulty, and it would offer essentially no protection against lightning. And apart from that, it didn't cover her body entirely.
But that was alright. The armor Korra was strapping onto herself wasn't built for combat, not exactly—it was built for training. It was built for rough training, certainly, but it wasn't meant to see actual, no-holds-barred battle.
Come to think of it, she thought to herself as she ensured that her helmet was on snug and tight, there was no armor in the world that could withstand serious assault from the elements—not that she knew of, anyway. Korra had already mastered waterbending and earthbending and so she knew that if you wanted to protect yourself from a bender who wished you harm, you had to dodge or you had to block, because there was no substance she had access to that could protect a person from the efforts of a true master.
Then again, she was the Avatar—she had more options than most. She didn't have to stick to firebending to fight firebending—she could douse her opponents with water, or else she could raise thick shields of earth between themselves and her in order to effectively stonewall all but the most violent of their attempts.
Apart from that, fire burned, and it needed air to burn. So, when she mastered airbending, she'd have yet another defense against firebending in her arsenal—she could simply remove the air from the path of the assault in order to severely weaken it or perhaps negate it altogether.
But for the moment, Korra wasn't an airbending master. In fact, she wasn't an airbender at all; much to her chagrin she'd never been able to bend air at all. It annoyed her, greatly, but all she had to do was to get through this one last test before she'd put her nose to the grindstone under the watchful, practiced eye of Tenzin, the only true airbending master in the world.
To get through this test, though, Korra couldn't use waterbending or earthbending. She had to stick to bending fire alone, and to do that within the constraints she'd been given would be hard.
Firebending, after all, was the physical manifestation of will and overpowering energy. It was a style of bending that didn't lend itself to restraint.
This was not going to be easy.
Regardless, Korra looked forward to proving herself in the eyes of her master, and the senior members of the Order of the White Lotus. Apart from that, there was nothing on the face of the Earth she loved more than a challenge.
She was finished dressing. It was time to go.
Korra stalked out of the small underground room adjacent to the massive, perfectly-flat stadium that had been built in the South Pole just for training and testing, and found that her opponents were already waiting for her. There were two of them, and judging by the look of it, they were pure-blooded Fire Nation citizens. They greeted her with a bow—which she reciprocated—before she bowed to the distant box overlooking the stadium, where those she'd have to impress stood watching.
It was noon. The Sun was high in the sky, and that meant that the strength of all firebenders everywhere was at a relative maximum. Holding back would be hard, and that was why, when the gong that sounded the opening of the match rang out, the first thing Korra did was not to attack—but to run.
As she'd anticipated, her opponents fired twin crimson balls of fire at her position—or, rather, what had been her position just seconds ago, but Korra was circling the perimeter of the stadium at a rapid jog. Their initial attacks, therefore, struck nothing of significance, and their followups failed to track her as she continued to move.
Five more flaming orbs drifted past her before Korra decided to change tactics. Now, it was her turn to attack.
She stopped suddenly and planted her feet, adopting a powerful stance optimized for offensive operations. She breathed in—but not too rapidly—and then exhaled as she punched out one, two, three times, careful that each of the attacks she launched at her opponents were no hotter than was allowed.
Now they were on the move, though. In fact, they seemed to moving to pin her against the stadium's wall by moving at her with alarming alacrity in what could only be called a micro-scale pincer movement.
She had to escape, or else they'd overwhelm her.
So, Korra focused on the bender to her right and leaped forward before stretching out into a long, low dive and then tucking and rolling. Now, they were closer to the wall than she was, and it was easy to allow the fiery shot launched at her to sear uselessly past her.
She countered this hasty attempt to cut her off by throwing the full strength of her core and legs into a vertical punch that sent an almost too hot blast of fire at her target. It struck him, almost head on, and sent him stumbling backward.
That was an advantage. Korra was tempted to press it, but she knew that the moment she gave her other opponent a significant opening, she'd be the worse for it.
So, she feinted forward, heavily, and practically felt the jolt of anticipation her rearward opponent did as he sensed what he believed to be an opportunity. He leaped high into the air and brought his fist down, aiming to strike Korra directly in the back of the skull—
But she diverted the fireball with a sudden hook kick. Then, in the same motion, she turned and used both her left fist and left foot to send a sustained, violently red blast of fire at her opponent, holding out the attack for the full one or two seconds it took him to fall. Caught completely unexpected, he hadn't time to block and since he was midair when it first struck, he'd had no hopes of dodging. He therefore came down clasping his hands over his face and screaming in pain.
He'd be alright, though. There were healers standing by, and the greatest healer of them all—Katara—was personally watching this match. So, Korra clamped down on the instinctive concern she felt for the safety of another human being and focused on finishing the match.
Unfortunately, however, the first firebender she'd struck was no longer reeling against the edge of the stadium. He was on his feet and now that the test was a one-on-one match, he didn't have to coordinate with his teammate and could move around rapidly, dynamically, launching fireball after fireball after fireball as quickly as he liked.
And, just then, he was doing just that. Such was the intensity of the several different flaming assaults coming at her that Korra couldn't tell where her opponent was, so she gritted her teeth and moved both of her arms in a wide, counterclockwise arc.
The attack was overwhelmed by a sudden wall of flame that absorbed it and then burnt out off to the side. Korra was left unscathed.
That wouldn't last for long, though, and the more she remained a static target, the more creative she'd have to be to simply stay on her feet.
So, with that in mind, Korra, too, began to run—toward the center of the arena, in fact. The farther from the walls she was, the harder it would be to trap her and the easier it would be to dodge. And as she started to move, she caught sight of her opponent—dancing perhaps twenty yards from her and kicking in the air to prepare a series of assaults.
And she was running right at him.
She was going too fast to stop and there was no time to prepare another large-area block like the one she'd just employed. The only way to beat him was to beat him at his own game, so at the last possible second, Korra jumped into the air and matched her opponent move-for-move.
He snap-kicked with his right leg. So did she. He straight-punched with his left fist. So did she. He hook punched with his right fist. So did she. And then he turned around and with his left foot, sought to bring a scorching arc of flame toward her at a diagonal angle that would be nearly impossible to dodge, but Korra wasn't there.
She was on the ground and she was running forward. He tried to track her, but she was far too fast—in fact, she was almost underneath him and she was rolling—
Her heel connected with his toe and caused him to lose balance entirely. He flipped over halfway, flailed, and ended up nearly landing face-first on the ground. In the end, he managed to save himself by landing with a messy roll, but at that point, even he knew that the match was over.
Korra timed his landing perfect. Before he had a chance to even stand up, the red-orange blast of flame her left thrust-kick sent at him knocked him back five yards, leaving him smoking and unconscious when he came to rest.
Korra took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. She turned to face her master and the White Lotus elders, starting to grin already—
And that was when she realized that the match was not, in fact, over. The man she'd injured had taken off his helmet and was even then rushing her, gathering large swathes of flame in each of his hands. When he got closer to her, she knew, he'd bring them together to create a flaming explosion violent enough to put her down.
Korra took two steps forward and jumped into the air. She then kicked her opponent in the chin with the ball of her foot, ending his attack prematurely and causing his head to snap back. When he fell, he hit the ground hard and stayed there.
This time, though, Korra didn't take any chances. She handed with her feet on either side of his chest and then she straddled him, holding her fist at his neck for a few seconds to show that she was "safety-killing" him.
And then the gong that announced the end of the match rang.
Korra stood up, and, for a moment, looked down at her injured opponent. He was burned… but not very badly. A few days of rest and some careful healing would see that he was soon as good as new, and as for the other guy, he'd probably be alright before the day was out.
Taking a few moments to steady her breathing, Korra realized what had just happened. She had passed the last in a series of tests designed to put her through her firebending paces, and she'd done so in a minute flat! Elated, she jogged it up to the part of the stadium that was closest to the viewing box and took her helmet off.
"Well?" she asked.
She paused. The old men and women staring down at her were stoic. Her firebending master stroked his moustache, but that was the extent of any reactions Korra received.
She blinked.
"Hey, why all the long faces? We should be celebrating! I just aced my firebending test, right? How did you like my style—I didn't mess around at all, I just focused on pure, overwhelming will and power and—"
"That's the problem, Korra," her firebending instructor cut in. "At a few points in the match, your flames were orange. Light orange."
Realizing what this meant, Korra dropped her relaxed, cocky pose and stood up ramrod straight, trying not to wince too badly. She… had tried to dial things down a bit, but it was hard, given the nature of firebending. Apart from that, she'd only ever trained with inanimate targets that she didn't need to worry about not obliterating, so—
Come to think of it, perhaps that was part of the test. For years, White Lotus elders had spoken to her about the spiritual side of bending, and, of late, her firebending master had as well. And she'd tried to be spiritual, she really had, but it just hadn't come as quickly as bending the elements had (with the glaring exception, of course, of air).
Maybe what they really were testing wasn't her strength or her combat prowess. Maybe what they were testing was how she could win fights without maiming or killing her opponents.
Because that, after all, was what had made Aang such a wonderful, popular Avatar—he didn't kill his opponents, ever. He hurt them, he injured them, and in one case, he took away their bending for good, but he had never taken a human life.
But if Korra were to face down an opponent—a real opponent who intended to do her real harm—if she attacked them with the strength and aggression she employed in training, they'd die. And—for the most part, anyway—that was unacceptable.
Maybe… the old ones had a point.
"Ever since you were a little girl," the leader of the White Lotus began to lecture her, "you've excelled at the physical side of bending. But this past test has convinced me that you've ignored the spiritual side, and the Avatar must master both."
"I haven't ignored the spiritual side," Korra protested. "It just… doesn't come as easy to me, that's all—and that's why I should start training with Tenzin immediately, right? He's Mr. Spiritual, after all."
She felt the hard eyes of the dark skinned man weigh down on her and fell silent.
"Do you believe she's ready, Master Katara?" she heard him asked.
There was more silence for a moment. And just as Korra dared to look up to the woman who had helped her perfect waterbending, Katara answered.
"Yes," Katara said simply, unambiguously. "If there's anyone who can teach Korra what she needs to learn, it's Tenzin."
For a moment, the other four elders seemed unconvinced. But then, Korra's firebending master sighed—and then he smiled at her.
"If that's the case," he said slowly, almost regally, "then I give you full marks for your firebending test, Korra."
"Very well," the leader of the White Lotus said. "It's time for the Avatar to begin her airbending training."
Elated, Korra stifled a shout of "Woo hoo! Finally!" and instead bowed at the waist and looked up at the elders.
"Thank you, Master," she said with the sort of serene spirituality she'd learn to feel and not imitate. "I appreciate your faith in me."
She stood still for another moment, just long enough to convince perhaps the more gullible elders that perhaps she was disciplined at heart, before running off.
The moment she was out of immediate earshot, repeated low-pitched blasts were heard as Korra employed her mastery of three of the four elements to celebrate her success as only she could.
Her firebending master, though, simply continued to stroke his moustache. And he didn't do that when he was contemplative—he did that when he was worried.
"What's on your mind, Zhao?" the leader of the White Lotus said.
"Korra," he said simply. Only a moment later did he clarify his comment.
"Tenzin has his work cut out for him. Today, the world isn't as simple as it once was," he said. "During the Hundred Year War, it was easy to know who your enemies were. You just looked at the uniforms they wore," he said, and, after a moment, the wizened faces around him nodded to signal their agreement.
"There were civilians," Zhao admitted. "There were many civilians. But the enemies of civilization today don't wear uniforms. They don't have headquarters, or barracks, or bases. Legally, they either don't exist, or they exist in the gray area between 'criminal' and 'military threat'.
"And if that wasn't complicated enough, there is no clear line between civilian and enemy. What do you call someone, for example, who ideologically—verbally, even—supports your enemy? Are they an enemy, too?" Zhao asked. "What about those who materially support your enemies but don't directly take up arms against you? What about those who fund your enemies? What about those who unknowingly support your enemy? What about those whose support of your enemy can't be proven in a court of law?"
He sighed.
"War—open war—is a terrible, brutal, destructive thing. But the one advantage it has over the situation in Republic City is that war is simple."
The leader of the White Lotus couldn't help but find himself in reluctant agreement. Not so very long ago, Korra would have been an indispensable asset in the free world's struggle against the Fire Nation.
In this new age, though, this age of complication, who knew if she'd do more good than harm, or if she'd do more harm than good?
Korra, of course, knew nothing of these complications. All she knew was that she was elated, and that she had to celebrate, and that there was no better way to celebrate than with her greatest friend in all the world.
It took some doing, of course, to convince the stony-faced White Lotus sentries to allow her and Naga to go out of the well-defended enclave for a romp in the snow.
"Don't worry," she'd said, "we won't go far."
That almost hadn't worked, and she knew why. For centuries, the Order of the White Lotus had existed to protect the Avatar, and so the last thing a highly trained member of that group wanted to do was to let the Avatar go out and about in an unsecured, unsafe environment—particularly now, in such a day and age.
In the end, though, Korra was allowed to go off into the snow-covered distances. She wouldn't be alone, of course—for one thing, she had Naga, but apart from that, she knew that the watchful eyes of the White Lotus were always on her. They'd give her her distance, sure, but they'd never be quite too far away—and if she ever needed them, they'd be there in a moment, willing to kill and to die for her if the need arose.
Still, the illusion of privacy, of isolation, was enough for her. And in the past weeks, during the final, hectic stages of her firebending tests, she hadn't had even those transient fantasies to cling onto.
That was why she ran Naga as hard as she ever had. She dismounted her steed as well, leaping into the air, before freezing the snow beneath her so that it formed an icy chute for her to ski down.
The force of the air striking her face was enough to throw her hood back. Anyone who hadn't been born and raised in such a frigid environment would have been chilled to the bone, then, but for Korra, this was fun—extreme, somewhat dangerous fun, but that was the best kind of fun there was.
At the end of the slope she was cutting her way down, a rise awaited. Korra used that to launch herself into the air, and there, fifty feet above the ground, she felt the greatest sense of freedom she'd ever felt in her life…
It was a small room, and, by virtue of its location, it would never, ever see the light of day.
But it was clean and lit by candles 24/7. It was also one of the safest places in Republic City—certainly, it was the safest place for its owner.
After all, its location was secret, and access to it was granted only to a select few people who numbered no more than a dozen in total. And those who were allowed in—those who knew that it actually existed—were all tough young people in the primes of their lives, without families that could be threatened and without any conflicts of interest whatsoever.
They had all dedicated their lives to the cause that the room's existence itself served. And they were all willing to set their lives aside for that cause, and that was why they'd never be discovered—not by vigilante groups, nor gangs, nor the police, nor even the CIB itself.
The room operated in complete secrecy and complete isolation. And yet despite this, it had hardwired connections to several phoneline hubs around the city, allowing it to monitor several important telegraph machines owned by several important people.
The room had other purposes, too. Before the Black God's will was served by His most devoted servants, the room was used to plan out the Followers'… rituals.
Soon, it would be time for another ritual. But for now, it was time to wait, and to watch, and to listen.
"We've intercepted a message from Air Temple Island."
A masked face angled toward the one who'd said that.
"Where was it sent?"
"The South Pole."
Now, the owner of that masked face stood and walked perhaps five paces.
"Tenzin is communicating with the Avatar's home base… could it be…?"
"What is it?"
"It seems to be in response to another message… a query, or perhaps a report of some sort."
Well. The hack job was the best they could manage, but it certainly didn't allow for 100% surveillance.
"What does it say?"
"Tenzin will be traveling to The South Pole tomorrow. He said that… the situation in Republic City has taken a turn for the worse, and that he has to talk to the leader of the White Lotus in person to discuss their next move."
A smile touched a pair of lips hidden from the world.
"You can't disagree with his analysis."
"But what is he planning? If the situation here is so dangerous… will he bring the Avatar here, or keep her in the South Pole where it's safe?"
The Avatar…
If she came to the city, it could ruin their plans. It was true that she was their goal—one of their main goals, and perhaps even their final goal—but they weren't yet strong enough to take on the master of all four elements. Not at this stage—not yet.
It looked like Tenzin and the White Lotus would have to be sent a warning—a very clear, unambiguous warning.
"We have need of our prisoner," a chilling voice said.
"The warning to the Avatar will be written in his blood."
"Master Zhao… you wanted to see me?"
"Ah, Korra. Would you care to join me for a hot cup of tea?"
Immediately, Korra was on edge. When Zhao invited her to have tea, it was either because he had something arduous and boring to discuss with her, or because he had something utterly fascinating to discuss with her.
There was no middle ground, and therefore there was no way to prepare for what was to come.
It didn't occur to Korra, of course, to decline the offer. One didn't simply decline an offer to have tea with one's own firebending master.
So, she bowed, courteously, and entered the room in which Zhao had lived for the past five years of his life.
The building the room was located in was at the edge of the area that the Order of the White Lotus had secured for the Avatar and her training. As such, in the most peaceful of times, the building was positively crawling with sentries.
In these times, one couldn't walk in the halls for more than a few moments without running into a squad of them.
Still, such a near-paranoid level of security didn't stop Zhao from making his room his. He had few possessions, Korra knew, but all of them were special in some way—for example, the set of robes encased in a glass display in one corner was Fire Lord Sozin's; for another, the dual swords crossed over the entrance to the room were Fire Lord Zuko's.
There were other things, too—vases, books, bits of obsidian with ancient markings on them—but Korra wasn't interested in these trinkets. She was interested in the man in front of her as he sat down and poured two matching cups of tea.
It was so hot that it was steaming. In such a climate, that luxury ought have been the stuff of dreams—and, in fact, heat beyond the absolute minimum needed to sustain life had been a luxury in the South Pole since the beginning of time.
Now, things were beginning to change. Now, ships traveled to and from a small port several hours' travel from Korra's tribe's grounds, and the men on them brought spark rocks and wood to trade for seal skins, meat, and clothes. Times were changing in the South Pole, albeit at a measured pace, but there was no doubt that they were still several years behind their sister tribe to the far north—but that had always been the case, and there was nothing wrong with that.
Still, there was a small wonder in beholding the pleasant, hot beverage in her hands. The cup Korra was holding was fashioned by a miniscule shop deep in the heart of the Fire Nation, and the tea leaves that had been used to prepare its contents were from a plantation to the east of Ba Sing Se.
The water, of course, was ice cut from the South Pole itself, melted and purified through a small filtration system at another part of what had been Korra's home ever since she had been "discovered".
Yet it was a miracle that she was sitting where she was—on the seventh story of an artistically designed building, warm, safe, secure, in the middle of a blizzard that would have posed a mortal threat to anyone in the area not a generation ago. Apart from that, she was sitting peacefully with a man of the Fire Nation—a person who would have been her enemy for that simple reason had they been sitting there a hundred years before.
It was as if the planets had aligned to see Korra in such a wonderful, peaceful situation.
She took a sip of tea.
How wonderful it tasted.
Zhao seemed to be looking at her, and for a moment, Korra was almost embarrassed. But then, she found herself looking right back at the old man, the white-haired firebending legend she'd spent the past several years with, honing her art to a razor's edge. He knew everything about her—her strengths, her weaknesses, and how she'd attack a given opponent or situation. He also knew her on a personal level, to a degree, since they'd had several teatime conversations recently as Korra's training started to come to a close.
"You've grown," Zhao began. "It's hard to imagine that only a few years ago, your firebending was so… unwashed. But now, you can burn the wings off a fly—without killing it—and in the same breath you can start a forest fire large enough to bring an army to its knees.
"I'm proud of you, Korra," Zhao said. "I truly am. You're one of the most dangerous firebenders in this world, easily, and you've come to be a wonderful young lady as well."
At this point, Korra was all smiles. Compliments from Zhao, generally, were few and far between—it wasn't that he was a gruff or unfriendly person, it was just that he didn't engage in hyperbole, ever. Praise from him, therefore, was sincere and heartfelt, and so the respect and honor he was showing her was almost overwhelming.
And then Korra saw the meager smile on Zhao's face begin to fade.
"You're powerful, Korra," Zhao said. "Almost… too powerful."
"Wait a second," Korra protested. "That doesn't make sense. How can someone be too powerful, Master? I mean—firebending itself is based on will, right? On the determination to accomplish tasks? It's the element of power—that's what you taught me."
She hadn't meant to end on an almost accusatory note, and for a moment, Korra was afraid that she'd insulted Zhao. But Zhao simply took a deep sip of tea and contemplated before replying.
"Fire is the element of power," he confirmed. "And its basis is the will to accomplish tasks. But that's not what I was talking about."
He paused for the slightest second. It was almost as if he didn't want to continue, or if he wasn't sure that he ought to. But the expression on Korra's face was unambiguous—she had to understand what he was getting at.
"During the Hundred Year War," Zhao began, "what won battles was indeed power. In those days, might… didn't make right, but might made fact, made history, and it was by understanding this fact that one nation was able to wage war on three others at the same time. Power—in the hands of the Fire Lord, and his family, was able to enforce a hierarchy that forced thousands of Fire Nation soldiers to fight and to die in distant lands, a thousand miles from home, for nothing that would have benefited any of them at all."
He sighed and shook his head, and then he continued.
"Korra," Zhao said, "I don't know if anyone's told you this before, but you're powerful. You're very, very powerful. I don't know if you're the most powerful Avatar that has ever existed," he admitted, "but even at your age, even without airbending, you're orders of magnitude more powerful than your past life.
"And if your past life had been as powerful as you are, the war would have been much shorter. It would have ended before Sozin's Comet came—it may even have ended before the Day of the Black Sun. And if the war had ended sooner, the atrocities committed by the Fire Nation with the aid of Sozin's Comet would never have happened. There would be thousands of people in the western part of the Earth Kingdom today, instead of ghosts and mass graves."
Korra shivered unpleasantly at the mention of those terrible events. She didn't know much about them, but she'd read a few books over the years, and one of them had had pictures. And until that day, Korra had never, ever been able to rid her mind of the image of a miniscule skeleton clutched in the arms of its mother, charred into lifelessness for all eternity. It would be burned into her consciousness, and the consciousnesses of all of her future lives.
It was a moment before Zhao continued.
"Today, things are different," he said. "Today, power doesn't win battles, let alone wars. Tell me about the capture of Omashu by the Fire Nation, Korra—tell me what King Bumi did."
"He… used neutral jing," Korra said uncertainly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world—and it was. Even here, way out here in the South Pole, children were taught how King Bumi had given the Fire Nation the illusion of victory in order to claim true victory in the end.
"It was a brilliant military strategy," Korra said. "He didn't attack or defend—he let the Fire Nation take over his city so that he could strike them later on his own turf, on his own terms."
Now, she felt more certain of the answer she was giving—Zhao was nodding slowly, indicating for her to continue.
"He gave the appearance of defeat and then bided his time, waiting for the opportunity to attack—and when it came, he took it," Korra said. She punched one open hand for emphasis.
"The eclipse lasted eight minutes, but he had taken his city back in four."
Zhao was still nodding, but Korra wasn't sure what more to say. She wasn't sure what more there was to say about this topic—and then she saw that her firebending master wasn't just nodding—he was also grinning sadly.
"So that's the story they tell you in school these days," he said. "I might have known…
"Yes, it's true that on one level, King Bumi did nothing," Zhao said. "It's true that at first, he neither attacked nor defended. But he allowed himself to be captured—he intended to be captured. Think about it—it was his city, and he'd been a popular, wise, beloved King for decades when the Fire Nation came to call. He could have hidden—he would have had friends, supporters—but he didn't hide, did he? He all but threw himself into the hands of his enemies. Now why would he do that, Korra? Can you guess?"
"To… make them think that they'd won?"
Zhao nodded.
"Not just that," he said. "He wanted the Fire Nation to be convinced of its victory. By letting Fire Nation forces capture him—the King of Omashu—he gave their proud, arrogant leaders reason to believe that the battle was over and done and to sit back on their laurels. He gave their soldiers reason to become lazy and derelict in their duties, and abusive towards the citizens of 'New Ozai'."
Zhao grinned at the expression on Korra's face.
"Yes, Korra—he wanted Fire Nation troops to mistreat his people—and here's why.
"King Bumi wanted his people to hate the Fire Nation and anyone affiliated with it."
"But wait," Korra interjected. "They already hated the Fire Nation—they already knew the world was at war with the Fire Nation, and for good reason—they knew about Ba Sing Se, they knew about raiders attacking Earth Kingdom villages—"
"They did," Zhao said. "They knew these things, but they did not feel them. It's one thing to read about a war in a newspaper, it's another thing to be insulted, to be ground into the dust by the boot of a foreign soldier. In other words, before the occupation, the people of Omashu may have hated the Fire Nation on an intellectual level—maybe—but after the occupation, the people of Omashu hated the Fire Nation with every fiber of their being, from the poorest beggar to the wealthiest landlord."
"So," Korra said, "King Bumi was… trying to get his people to hate the Fire Nation… but why didn't he just tell them what the Fire Nation would do to them, instead of letting it happen? Why didn't he meet the enemy at the gates of his city, instead of allowing them inside to have their way for weeks on end?"
Zhao paused before speaking, looking directly into Korra's eyes. He knew that she was smart enough to answer that question for herself.
"He… if he had just told them about what the Fire Nation was capable of, they may have hated the Fire Nation. But they wouldn't have hated the Fire Nation."
"Exactly," Zhao said.
"Without experiencing the brutality of Fire Nation occupation for himself, a poor worker would have needed a lot of convincing in order to take up arms against them. On the other hand, after seeing and feeling the Fire Nation for themselves, the people of Omashu universally grew to hate the Fire Nation—to the point of action, to the point of taking up arms against them, to the point that they were willing to sacrifice themselves to see the Fire Nation defeated."
"So, King Bumi manipulated his people," Korra said. "Is that what happened?"
Zhao began to shake his head. He paused, then—and then he shrugged.
"That's not how I think about it," he said. "He didn't lie, didn't shade or conceal the truth, didn't use cheap rhetoric—he showed his people the truth in the most obvious manner, and that's that. No newspaper, no speech can display truth like one's own senses can, alas," Zhao said. "Perhaps telegrams can display truth in a manner convincing enough to engender action—only time will tell," he continued. "But I am convinced that the best way to convince someone of truth is to show it to them—to their own eyes so that they must confront it, as well as whatever ramifications might follow it."
Their tea cups were empty. Zhao moved to refill them, but Korra beat him to it. Moments later, master and student sat facing one another with steaming cups of tea in their hands again.
"So, King Bumi convinced his people of the depravity of the Fire Nation by allowing them to experience it firsthand," Zhao said, "but that's not all. There's no doubt that the people of the Earth Kingdom are proud and strong, but like all people, they have needs—simple, physical needs: food, water, and shelter. Beyond that, they also need safety and rule of law. These are the foundations of civilization—of society itself—and until the Fire Nation came, it was King Bumi and his government which provided these things. Perhaps not perfectly," Zhao admitted, "but in a good measure regardless. But after Omashu was captured…"
"… it became the Fire Nation's responsibility to provide them?" Korra answered with a question—and Zhao nodded enthusiastically.
"Exactly," Zhao said. "It relieved King Bumi of his responsibilities, and it became the Fire Nation's responsibility to act as the government. In other words, when people went without food or water, the Fire Nation was blamed, and when Fire Nation soldiers terrorized the people of Omashu, that was the final nail in the coffin," Zhao said. "That was how the people of Omashu came to hate the Fire Nation with indomitable passion."
"So, people began to join the resistance?" Korra asked. "They started to organize and do little raids against Fire Nation patrols and buildings?"
"Some of them," Zhao agreed. "But what allowed people to participate in resistance activities? How could they continue to feed themselves and their families if they were secretly freedom fighters? How could they trust their neighbors to stay silent about their nighttime activities?"
He looked to Korra to answer, but she had no words for him.
"It was because the Fire Nation was so unpopular in Omashu that no one would betray a resistance fighter to the Fire Nation, not for all the bags of grain in the world. People grew to hate the Fire Nation so much that even those who weren't willing to fight were willing to give their support to the cause in other ways—they were willing to donate food, or money, or their homes; they would act as medics, they would spy, they would eavesdrop, they would do any little thing they could to play their role in the expulsion of the Fire Nation from their home.
"King Bumi's strategy worked so well that within a fortnight of its capture, not a single Fire Nation sympathizer existed in Omashu. They simply ceased to exist, because the Fire Nation couldn't provide anything—not food, not water, not safety, not shelter, and certainly not rule of law. They failed to fulfill their responsibilities as a government—in no small part because of organized resistance activities by the remnants of Omashu's police and military force—and when their soldiers insulted and beat the proud, strong people of the Earth Kingdom, those people started to plot for their demise.
"The Fire Nation quickly found itself entrenched in a state of constant hyper-vigilance to avoid simply collapsing to the onslaught of constant resistance raids," Zhao said. "Every atrocity they committed was paid back, somehow, and rebels were able to sleep comfortably at night while the Fire Nation was forced to weather attacks at all hours, taking up resources and morale.
"Many Fire Nation troops simply stopped caring. Some deserted. Those who continued to do their duties quickly became paranoid or monsters. And when the Day of Black Sun came, well," Zhao scoffed.
"Let me just say that I am surprised that it took King Bumi and the organized resistance four minutes to defeat the Fire Nation. It should have been done in half that time."
Korra hadn't had a sip of her tea since she had refilled her cup. So this was the true story of how King Bumi eventually achieved a decisive military victory at Omashu—it was a lot more complicated than simply using neutral jing. It was fantastic that he'd been able to orchestrate events, or at least plan for them, at such a high level.
The idea of actually using a government's responsibility against it… that was something that Korra had never, ever thought of before. The whole idea was… incredible.
"But things are different now," Zhao said contemplatively, interrupting her thoughts. "Things are very different now. Now, those who provide governance take on not only the responsibility to provide food, water, shelter, safety, and rule of law—now, people expect all those things, and they expect power, infrastructure, and a stable economy. The responsibilities of a government have grown exponentially," he said darkly, "and the establishment that has to take on those responsibilities has a much greater burden than it has ever had in the past.
"If the people of Omashu had expected power, back then, and infrastructure, and a stable economy… then King Bumi wouldn't have had to lift a finger, not even on the Day of Black Sun," Zhao said. "The people would have done all the work for him. The benders would have used earth and the nonbenders would have used torches and pitchforks.
"That's because the people would have expected so much," Zhao said, "and to prevent the Fire Nation from providing that, the resistance would have had to do so little. It's one thing to provide food, water, shelter, safety, and rule of law, but to provide power and infrastructure and a stable economy is something else entirely. All it takes is one sabotaged powerplant or one financial crisis to get people to panic," Zhao said. "And when that happens, woe betide those in power, because the people will be out in the streets, calling for their blood. "
Zhao took a sip of tea. He thought for a moment before speaking.
"Power alone doesn't win battles, Avatar Korra, and it certainly doesn't win wars. It didn't a hundred years ago, and it certainly doesn't today. In fact, I fear that your training has been misguided and obsolete from the start," Zhao said. "I was told to teach you firebending—true, traditional, proven firebending—and so I did.
"I have taught the most powerful, destructive techniques—I've taught you how to command enough power to bring entire armies to the ground—but why? Why on Earth should you spend five years practicing techniques that are easy—techniques that require no finesse, little control, and techniques that you'll probably never need to use, when there are so many more useful things for you to learn?
"Why should you learn to fight against armies, when the modern enemies of civilization aren't soldiers wearing neat little uniforms so that you know who they are?
"I and your other masters have taught you the most powerful and destructive combat arts," Zhao said, "but apart from not being spiritual, you have almost no restraint. Korra, the flames you used today were yellow," Zhao said. "I know it and you know it."
He fell silent.
At this point, Korra was uncomfortable. Zhao had begun the conversation by praising her, but now he was scolding her—insulting her, even—and the flames she'd used in today's sparring match had never been hotter than orange!… except, well, maybe at one or two points…
"You don't know the suffering of war," Zhao said, "and that's alright, because the peril of your time isn't war—not the kind of war I'm talking about, anyway. But you don't know the suffering of crime, either, or the cold, paralyzing fear that comes when you see needless, endless death, depravity and destruction.
"You'll learn it, though," Zhao said. "And you'll learn it hard. When you look into the eyes of a man you've hurt—a man you've badly hurt when there are no squads of healers close at hand—or when you come too late to save what has become a dead body on the ground—then you'll learn the meaning of suffering.
"Until then… you said you didn't mess around in your match today, Korra. But when you understand the meaning of suffering, you'll understand what it really means to not mess around. You'll understand what true power is—it's not firebending, or waterbending, or earthbending, or even the ability to use all of them at once to overwhelm your enemy. You'll understand, as Aang did so well, that the greatest power in this world is to defeat your enemy without killing him—without tearing your soul apart and inviting the hatred, fear, and distrust that the people of this world so rightly show towards killers—even if they're righteous killers, police, soldiers, or the Avatar herself."
At last Korra found her voice.
"So… you think I've been sheltered?" she asked. "You think… because I haven't seen suffering, I don't understand that I shouldn't kill my enemies?"
"You might say in words that you understand why you shouldn't kill your enemies," Zhao allowed, "but you don't truly understand it, because you don't know the mark of the Black God."
Korra's tea was cold in its cup, which, in turn, was long forgotten and stagnant in her hand. She only became aware of it again because she had started to tilt it, spilling its contents onto her hand.
A little waterbending fixed that and allowed her to think coherently once again. But no coherent thoughts could make sense of what Zhao had just said.
"The Black God?" Korra thought. "What on Earth is that?"
She scoured her memory, briefly, but after only a moment she was certain that she'd never heard of the "Black God". She'd never even heard of anything like a "Black God" before, whatever it was.
Apart from that, Zhao was starting to creep her out a little bit. It was true that he was her firebending master, and that she trusted him with her life, but just then… just then she was starting to get uncomfortable.
Korra started to stand, thinking of the proper words that would let her leave without being too disrespectful, but Zhao held up a hand before a breath could leave her lips.
"You don't understand a word of what I'm saying," he said, "but you will. And… I have a gift for you, Korra."
"A gift?" she prompted, feeling more suspicious than interested.
Zhao nodded. "It's been in my family for generations, and for generations, we've found it useful. Life-saving, even."
Now, Korra was starting to become more interested and excited, but she was still suspicious and wary of the old man before her. She thought she'd known him so well, but in just the past several minutes he'd said so much and now she wasn't sure that she knew him at all.
And now he was on his feet and making his way to a closet in the back of his room. He opened its doors and, after a moment, pulled out a brief black garment that he held out in his hands.
It was a vest of some sort. It was made of animal hide and dyed black, and as Korra looked closely, she could see that it was not so very different from the seal skins her people used to make coats.
But it was different, though, she could see that in an instant. It seemed… scaled, almost, but it flowed far too smoothly for it to be reptilian hide. And when Zhao handed it to her, she could tell that…
"…It's as light as a feather," Korra said uncertainly.
That was an exaggeration, but only slightly. It was lighter than an undershirt, yet it was thick and had insulative properties; she could tell that much just by manipulating it in her hands for a moment.
"It is," Zhao said. "But that's not all."
Korra looked at him quizzically for a moment as he took the vest from her, held it out in one hand—
And then applied to it a flame so hot that Korra had to close her eyes and turn away.
"What are you doing?!" Korra demanded. "Why are you ruining your… vest…"
Zhao stopped firebending. He held the material out for Korra to see that it wasn't burned, wasn't even singed, and, in fact, was still cool to the touch.
"It's not damaged at all," Zhao said, handing the vest back to Korra, so that she could turn it over in her hands and see for herself that he wasn't lying. "No conventional fire can damage it; at least, as far as I'm aware. Lightning will pierce it, but the protection it can offer will make an otherwise fatal wound survivable.
"And it's not just resistant to fire," Zhao went on. "It'll offer protection against rock shards, icicles, and it'll disperse blasts of air as well. It can absorb a punch or a kick, and can render pressure point striking almost useless. It'll make arrows snap and fall apart into pieces, and even the sharpest blade will have a very hard time doing more than scratching it."
Korra was speechless for a moment. She wouldn't have believed what Zhao was telling her, but after thoroughly searching the vest for signs of damage without any success at all, she was forced to believe that he was telling her the truth.
"What… is it?" she asked slowly.
Zhao grinned.
"You'll find out, Avatar Korra, when it's time. Until then, I want you to wear this vest," he said. "Under your clothes, of course—don't display it openly. When the time is right, your friends, and your enemies, will find out about it."
Korra looked at Zhao uncertainly. He… was a very, very strange man. He was the most powerful firebender she'd ever heard of—probably the most powerful firebender alive—but she'd always felt that he was hiding something—from her, and from the world.
Apart from that, he looked a little strange.
It wasn't that he was unattractive (although, to be frank, Korra's tastes led her to be more interested in people a lot younger than Zhao), but he didn't quite look like a pure member of the Fire Nation's main ethnic group. Something about him was reminiscent of the features common to the Northern Water Tribe—kind of, sort of.
Korra wasn't sure what it was. But she sensed, somehow, that it had something to do with the vest in her hands, and why he tended to be so mysterious and, well, odd.
But he had still done a lot for her.
"Thank you, Master," Korra said after a long moment. "For… everything."
Zhao smiled at her. He'd dedicated his life to her for the past five years, and before that, he'd dedicated his life to teaching others the art of firebending, and some other things.
In his life, he'd had friends, and for some time, he'd had a family, too, though everyone he'd once loved had now been dead for many years. He'd seen the world, he'd worked, he'd fought for what he'd believed in, and now that he'd given the Avatar something that might actually help her in the years to come… there wasn't much left for him to do.
"It was an honor to serve you, Avatar Korra," he said.
He paused.
"The others already know what my plans are, and my possessions will be sent to museums around this world. So, please don't worry about me at all, because after tonight, you won't see me again."
Korra blinked. What did he mean—
"It's time for me to embrace the Black God fully."
He shut his eyes and rested his hands, one atop the other, as if he was preparing to meditate.
"Don't be frightened."
With that, Zhao used firebending again, but this time, his target was himself… and this time, his target did react to the actions being performed on it.
Flames consumed him. They ate his clothes, first, and then they started to savor his skin, his flesh—and then, when most of their feast was done, they ate his bones, too, leaving nothing more than a small pile of fine white ash on the floor where Zhao had once stood.
Korra watched the procedure without blinking. And although she didn't know it at the time, what she'd seen, just then, was the mark of the Black God.
It was the first time she'd seen the mark of the Black God.
But it would not be the last.
The first card had been fire.
The second card had been an arrow.
And the third card had been a crowd of silhouettes.
It had taken the masked one, the one who had selected the cards, just a few moments of meditation and reflection to interpret what they meant.
And, so, he had gone to the room where the prisoner was being held. He had taken a torch with him and that was all—the other remained in the main room, monitoring telegraph activity and sharing notes on what the more ambiguous coded messages they'd intercepted might mean.
They heard the begging.
And then they heard the screams.
And then they heard silence.
And then four of them went to where their leader had finished his task and took their prisoner away.
They took him into a waiting car, loaded him into the trunk, and set off for another part of Republic City.
And then, in the middle of the night, they took him out and placed him in the middle of the road, right where they had found him…
At the doorsteps of the police station he'd once commanded.
(That's a wrap for this chapter… I hope you enjoyed it. I think I've introduced a number of important themes for the story as I have it planned, so the next chapter will involve a bit more plot movement. I don't want to say too much, but Tenzin's visit to the South Pole will be covered.
Anyway, review and favorite as necessary, because the positive reception this story gets is directly proportional to how enthusiastic I will be to work on it.)
