Where Words Fail
Book Four: Threshold Guardians
Chapter 2: Hey, Einstein, I'm on your side!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a fan fiction - nothing more, nothing less. It has been made purely for entertainment purposes, and is not meant for commercial gain. Avatar: The Last Airbender and all characters, places and concepts are copyright of Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. All original characters are copyright their respective owners and are used with their permission. The story has been illustrated by the talented and awesome SioUte, and this chapter's cover can be found here:
sioute(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/WWF-4-2-142446628
SCENE DIVIDE
Now
Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy! Smellerbee grit her teeth as she rolled across the rough, cool floor, grunting when the Firebender's brand licked at her padded shoulder blades. Jet would have clucked his tongue in disappointment; stealth and surprise were everything in a real mission - even Pipsqueak of thunderous voice and lumbering form knew that, and blowing cover so soon was only bad news for any forthcoming battles.
Like it had three years ago, when attacking a slave line to save a little boy.
She sprung up, outward, keeping low to the floor - aimed for the nearest soldier, her knife glinting orange from the fiery whip welded by the Firebender. She swung low, her blade finding the exposed rear of the knee, severing the tendons with a small gush of crimson. The soldier yowled, his lifeblood spraying Smellerbee's left eye, stinging; she scowled as she squinched the eye shut, the loss of depth perception would be a problem, but these were enlisted men and wouldn't be able to capitalize (would they?).
She reached for Jet's other sword, still strapped to her back, freeing it and swinging it in a quicksilver crescent at the next soldier. The hook of the blade caught on the soldier's ankle, and Smellerbee tugged him close before he could react; caught off balance, the soldier bowled into his injured comrade, both sent tumbling to the floor in a heap.
Two whistles pierced the air to Smellerbee's left, signifying a swift end to the fight; four Fire Nation soldiers, not expecting an actual battle, laid prone in the dusty, stone floor, two of them with arrows piercing their armor. The swordswoman wiped the blood from her face with the back of her glove and clambered up to her feet, taking quick score of the aftermath; despite botching the stealth aspect of the fight, the two Freedom Fighters managed to bounce back without getting wounded. She drew a deep, hot breath, adrenaline surging through her veins - this was the third fight she'd had since Ba Sing Se, and Spirits help her, she felt - reinvigorated by it, especially following the fight with Hell Jet. (That battle had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth and made her stomach flop over sideways.)
One of the soldiers Longshot had hit - the Firebender - didn't groan or move as the others did; his body lay still against those of his comrades, his chest and sides transfixed by death. Probably for the better, since he'd be the problem child while they handled clean-up. Longshot emerged from the cover of the stairwell and, with Smellerbee's help, hog-tied the remaining three soldiers down.
"What do you think you're doing?" A panicked voice yelped from nearby; Smellerbee cast a glance over her shoulder to see the same nervous receptionist from yesterday standing at the entrance to the dining area of the lobby, fretting his hands along the front of his tunic, the wrinkles of his face drawing an intricate web of distress. "You - you'll bring the Fire Nation down on us now!"
The swordswoman felt that old fire burbling up in her chest (he cowered before them, he was a pet to them) and was swift to quench it. That was Jet's way of thinking, not hers. "We're saving an innocent life," she replied, working to keep her voice even. As she spoke, Longshot walked over to the burnt child, kept just shy of the mini-skirmish; the boy trembled, curled into a ball of cloth and hair and wide, white eyes. The mute archer knelt down next to him and laid gentle, calloused hands on his shoulders, lending that invisible, cool-yet-passionate strength to the boy.
"I mean, unless you have don't mind letting Fire Nation bullies kill a kid over a mistake as small as being tripped over." Smellerbee felt her lips curl as she turned to regard the three living soldiers, her eyes coming to rest on the only one that had not been cut or pierced by their weapons. Her gaze burned a bulls-eye onto his exposed face, and the soldier's eyes went wide with terror; he would be the target for her slings. "We've seen it happen before."
"I don't want you to cause any more trouble for us," the receptionist wailed, but Longshot shot him a glare - normally warm and brown and sweet like melted chocolate, but Smellerbee only saw icy, glacial command behind them. Normally, people wouldn't've gotten it - but even though it wasn't aimed at her, Smellerbee felt the passion behind the glower, unmasked just enough the he receptionist jerked upright in shock. He stilled himself, his face drooping in silent defeat. Good. It'd be easier to question the soldier without him distracting her.
Longshot lowered his gaze and pursed his lips - he needed some kinda salve before he could wrap the boy's hand, or else the cloth would catch on the burnt skin later and probably cause infection. Smellerbee relayed the command to the receptionist - putting enough bark in her tone that the man flinched before squeezing out from behind the counter and crossing the threshold of the lobby, vanishing into the double doors in the rear of the room.
"So." The younger Freedom Fighter crouched down in front of the uninjured soldier, resting her elbows on her knees and letting her hands drape down between her legs. Her eyes hardened and she felt her mouth pull into a scowl. "You like bullying kids around, huh? Makes you feel tough and manly? That's not new to me, and I got no sympathy for that sorta thing."
Smellerbee let one hand drift away from her thighs, closing her gloved fingers around the Fire Nation emblem inset to the brow of the soldier's helmet; one swift tug sent it flying, bouncing off the cold, stone floor and clattering to a stop at the feet of The Boulder. (The Earthbender hadn't moved from his table during the fight, but Smellerbee had to force any lingering thoughts of the man from her mind, at least for now - she'd handle him next.)
Reaching for her knife with one hand, she used the other to grab the short, black hair of the soldier and tugged his head back, leaving the pale skin of his neck vulnerable and exposed - a soft stripe of pulsating warmth inlaid against his cold, black and maroon armor and the unyielding stone floor. She pressed the blade up against his Adams' apple, and his eyes wide and white and frozen in fear. His mouth worked, unspoken words trying to get past his lips and failing.
"Lemme spell this out for you, nice and clear - small words, so you'll be able to understand 'em," she hissed. "You're going to be a useful little Fire Nation tool and answer what I'm gonna ask. You got your best interests at heart, just to give you a heads up."
The soldier made to nod, but the cold bite of Smellerbee's blade made him stop short and moan. A line of crimson appeared along his skin, a single drop of blood trickling down his neck and vanishing into his armor. "Y-Yes," he responded instead, clenching his eyes tightly. "I'll do it. Just, just p-please don't kill me."
"Hmph." Just another coward, like the rest of 'em. Smellerbee shifted her weight and scowled. "Okay. First things first...tell me the layout. How is the Fire Nation posted here, and who's in charge?"
The Fire Nation soldier shuddered and his mouth opened, a floodgate for information - not all of it useful, but she could filter out the verbal flotsam, comb through the rambled sewage for what she and Longshot needed. The soldier's face grew paler as he exhausted his voice; the general skill level of the soldiers in the city, the biggest patrol routes, the Fire Nation's headquarters, the name of the commanding officer - Captain Liang - all mixed in with rambling sobs and pleas for his life.
"Please - please, I have a wife back home, a kid - we run a food market, she's had to take over for me since I've been deployed - "
Urgh. Okay, okay, she didn't need to hear all this. Life stories (outside the Freedom Fighters, anyway) made her drowsy, but Fire Nation life stories - like these monsters were actually human, were...
No. She drew another deep breath, the air cold in her throat. That was another Jet thing, something else she'd been trying to put behind her. She withdrew her knife and sheathed it at the small of her back, and the soldier shuddered.
"Alright, alright," the Freedom Fighter said, waving a dismissive hand. "Shut up, you're embarrassing yourself. You got your life, you saved your comrades, and hopefully you'll be able to go back ho - "
"Oh, thank you, kind warrior," the soldier breathed, his voice heavy with an unmentioned burden; Smellerbee narrowed her eyes as the soldier plowed ahead, oblivious to the fact that he'd already won his life back. "By the great Agni, the sun his eye set to watch over the world, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. To spare me is to spare my family, my beautiful wife and my precious children -"
"Shut up," she repeated, releasing the man's hair and clenching a fist. Suddenly, the rage, the hatred that she'd been quashing ever since seeing the vandalized walls of the town welled up inside her, too strong and virulent. "Who are you to talk about losing family? Who are you, from a genocidal army, which has already claimed so many loved ones? Who are you when you are a soldier, when your death is expected of you, when that is the price your family must suffer in exchange for the service you provide to your nation?"
The soldier trembled, his face paling again, lips drawn taut; she flexed her fingers, felt the urge to, to reach behind her, to grab the knife again, to carve a mark of his naiveté on his skin, but she couldn't feel any of that. All she felt was pressure from inside and outside - something trying to escape from her skin, something pinning her body down to the mortal plane. It was unbearable! She wanted to leap free of this vicegrip, out of her skin, but it wouldn't let her, stifling, making it hard to breathe -
In Smellerbee's mind, she saw the faceless girl with her mouth drawn into a stark O. She saw the flickering, pathetic flames that had overtaken the Fire Nation camp, dying as the rain doused them. She saw The Duke in chains, she saw Spatula, she saw the squalid, malnourished children they rescued and took in to be part of their own expanding family, one bound not by blood but by happenstance, by similar pasts and a bleak future. She saw herself, voiceless, huddling isolated in the wreckage of an old life - Jet's Way of Thinking be damned, he was right in this case, he was!
"Your people gave up the right to that concern when you started this stupid war!" She sneered, planting the heel a boot in the sobbing man's side and rolling him onto his back, where she could see his bare hands, unprotected by the gauntlets given to soldiers of a higher rank. "Our friends and families were killed by your army - they weren't soldiers, they were civilians, innocents! You just - you take, you take, and you don't even care, like it's your Spirits-given right."
Her fury knew no bounds anymore, pulse heavy and thunderous behind her ears, deafening her; gone, was Smellerbee and the person, a tomboyish warrior trying to set the world right where no Avatar remained, all that was left was rage, endless rage, and this time she did reach for her knife, she would cut off a finger, maybe all of them, yeah, that was a pittance to pay for his army's war crimes, for what his comrades did to the poor sweeping child, and she pressed the cold edge of the blade against the man's right index finger -
A hand grabbed her by the bicep, and she whirled, ready to plunge the knife into the face of whoever dared touch her - and stopped, seeing Longshot, feeling his own rage, his own fury, wash over her, she could see it in his eyes, his face, Spirits, she could see it in his heart. Not aimed at her, his was for the trembling soldier as well, but sitting beside the fury was - sadness. Disappointment, sorrow. Those were what kicked Smellerbee in the gut, drove the wind from her chest - snuffed out her fire, snapped her back to reality, back to the dimly-lit inn and its lobby. The other two soldiers, the receptionist, the boy - his hand wrapped in gauze, slick with healing salve - stared.
They were afraid, and in her haze - she glanced over to the bar - the Boulder had left.
SCENE DIVIDE
Then
Smellerbee had never seen Longshot so livid in her life, and it scared her.
They were friends, yes - best friends, they made a great team, they had the most 'synergy,' whatever that was, but Jet said it was a good thing, and Jet was always right. Longshot had never gotten mad at her before; he was always so calm, so supporting, she came to him when Sneers or the other children made fun of her boyish appearance and he let her open up and cry. She never cried, not in front of anyone else (especially not jerky Sneers), because she was supposed to be strong and confident and not such a girl about her identity.
She'd messed up. Longshot was livid, furious, at her, at Smellerbee, and she couldn't tell why.
She could feel her heart breaking, her eyes stung and vision blurred with tears threatening to fall. She wasn't sure if his anger hurt more that the not knowing, because he wouldn't - couldn't? - open up to tell her.
"I - I'm sorry, Longshot," she begged, curling and uncurling her fingers, her voice hitching. They stood in Longshot's tent, dusty sunlight filtering in through the gaps. The atmosphere was thick, like hardening tar, stifling and uncomfortable and not like this place at all. Being here normally set the young Freedom Fighter at ease, but right now all the good times felt choked out of it, frozen, stiff, lifeless. "Tell me what I did. Please. Don't - don't turn yourself off to me. I'll fix it, I promise - "
The archer's shoulders tightened, squared, and for a moment Smellerbee was afraid he'd strike her - but, no, Longshot would never do that to her, and he didn't, but she flinched anyway. It was enough; Longshot's gaze grew frosty, the verbose brown she associated usually with warm chocolate now more akin to mud on a frozen battlefield. Why would she even think he'd hit her? Smellerbee's shame grew deeper, a pit inside her spirit, guilt ready to drag her down. Instead of cuffing her, instead of being like those Fire Nation taskmasters from the camp, he held out a pair of gloves for Smellerbee to examine.
These were the problem.
Her heart tied itself in a knot. She knew those gloves. Soft, cream-colored and fingerless - because Longshot needed to have the tips of his fingers exposed, all the better to grip the string on his bow. The fringes had been laboriously stitched together; certainly not the best job in the world, but she didn't excel in sewing, and what had been done would hold without being uncomfortable on Longshot's hands. (Sneers was the best seamstress in the forest, and Smellerbee had obstinately refused to go to him for this matter.) An almost downy layer of fur lined the gloves on the outside, giving them their color; the only break from the natural cream came in the form of a stripe of lightning-blue across the palm of each one. The insides had been padded with leather for the cold winter days peering just over the horizon, but could be taken out during the summer.
Smellerbee had spent months making those gloves for her friend, a labor of love - and the look on his face, the frozen air around him that had nothing to do with the weather, told the swordswoman what he thought of the gift.
He hated them. He was mad at her for making them. She'd poured her heart and spirit into their creation and he hated them. And instead of getting mad back at him like she rightly should, instead of hair bristling and shoulders bunched up and teeth bared, her eyes stung with salty tears, and before she realized it they were falling, falling, down her cheeks, spattering the ground.
"You ass." Her voice was thick in her throat, and her tongue felt stuck - paralyzed. Like it wouldn't work right. She felt her lower lip sticking out despite herself. "I made those for you."
His eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit - that was the point, then, wasn't it? Slowly, he laid one of the gloves out in the open palm of his hand and ran a finger down the blue stripe of fur. Something about that mark stirred Smellerbee's memory, but she couldn't figure out what; she categorized animals based on the ease at which she could hunt them, and how much meat it could provide the Freedom Fighters. Any significance beyond that was just trimmings.
Longshot saw the bewilderment in her eyes - she could feel it weighing on her like a packed mud brick - and pushed the glove at her, his mouth pulled into a narrow frown. It was a sacred animal - Smellerbee should have known that. The sapphire-backed chipmunk rabbit, rare and treasured and especially known for its ties to the Spirit World, and the swordswoman had killed one to make handwear out of it.
Smellerbee gasped, felt eviscerated by the knowledge; she may not have believed in the Spirits, but she knew Longshot did and had never gone out of her way to rub her opinion in his face. She worked her tongue and her jaw but no words came out, at least not so easily; she had to wrench them free, voice hushed. "I'm sorry," she said, her throat tight. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry, Longshot."
The archer's eyes buzzed with confliction, but only for a moment; he closed them quickly, sighing through his nose. His body slackened, and he set the gloves down on the cot beside him. Opening his eyes again, Smellerbee no longer saw the incredible, alienating frost that had lurked beneath, and felt an incredible burden leave her. He gave her a gentle, forgiving glance, and placed his fingertips on her forearm; he may as well have been a Waterbender with his hands covered in that healing life-fluid, because Smellerbee's shame and anger and impending need to cry dissolved like a closing wound.
It was okay...just, be more careful from now on, alright?
Smellerbee grinned and nodded. "I promise."
SCENE DIVIDE
Now
The boy with the burned hand would be okay, and the three soldiers that hadn't been killed would live to see the next sunrise (if not with their fair share of aches), but time was sparse now, as the soldiers had been on a scheduled patrol. Soon enough, somebody would question where they'd gone off too.
They needed a plan, badly.
"The obvious choice is to run and never look back," she murmured to Longshot as they tied their possessions onto the saddles of their ostrich horses. All around them, the stink of animal droppings and hay permeated the air like a tangible barrier, leaving the swordswoman's face feeling grimy and laden with filth. Pig chickens grunted and snorted, sheep deer bleated in unified terror of some nonexistent threat; these stalls were noisy and obnoxious and Smellerbee loved it, because this was an environment produced entirely by the animals that lived there. Animal stench and noise was more bearable than that of mankind.
She grunted and undid the knot she'd just tied (another bit of sloppiness), restringing the rope through a metal loop on the rear of the saddle. "But that panicky receptionist was right about one thing: we've caused trouble for the inn and the Fire Nation will come down on them. Besides we've also got a rare opportunity on our hands. We know who the commanding officer is and where the coward's holed up; we can cut off the serpent's head now and throw the Fire Nation out of this town while they're confused."
Longshot nodded, nimble fingers also working the ropes to hold down his gear. It all depended on how the two Freedom Fighters wanted to act, be it out of self-interest or as heroes to the downtrodden. At the very least, the inn they'd stayed at would be destroyed and anyone inside killed; an eye for an eye might be enough for Smellerbee, but not for their enemies. She should know that by now. No, the inn getting burned to the ground would be a best case scenario; it would surprise the archer if they didn't raze a few more buildings hunting down the Earth Kingdom warriors that killed a Fire Nation soldier and wounded two more, enlisted men or not. Anything beyond that fact was a moot point.
"Yeah." Smellerbee's hands fell still, and she closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose. "We'll just have to do it stealthily. We can't charge headfirst into a massive battle with only the two of us, and there's not enough time to rally support from local warriors or Earthbenders. Avoiding that sort of craziness is why we went through the swamp instead of around it, but...I don't know. This is a smaller unit with an identifiable leader. So we start with Captain Liang and work our way down from there - and if a Captain is in charge of the garrison, that means we're just dealing with a company of soldiers."
A company was still a lot of men. Sixty at least, one-hundred and ninety at most, if what Sneers and Skillet had argued about had any merit to it (it probably did, and Smellerbee knew it). Granted, a group of Fire Nation soldiers were hardly the Dai Li, but...
"Mmm. You're right - it's too many for us to take on by ourselves." Shaking her head and grunting, Smellerbee finished securing her supplies and swung up onto Surestance's saddle. The ostrich horse whinnied as she tugged the reins, making it circle around in its wood-fenced pen. With Longshot at the ready beside her, she ushered Surestance out into the bursting sunlight of mid-morning; the pair galloped away from the inn, delving deeper into the burnt, ruined city whose beauty and grace had been blemished by overzealous bullying.
SCENE DIVIDE
Rough granite pressed against her back, her arms, her shoulders, almost completely enclosing her; she waited, still, silent - hunting. This was more like it; already, the foreign, borderline lethargic sensation haunting her had fled. This was natural, this was how she lived, stalking prey that would eventually become dinner...or, in this case, serve as an example. Instead of a mindless prey animal, it was an even more mindless Fire Nation officer; this kill would be more gratifying than most, even if it wouldn't be her that slew the beast. It was the perfect hiding place, out of sight but within earshot.
A ledge sloshed out from the side of the building above her; from a distance, it had looked like a great big wave arcing downward, but from Smellerbee's position beneath it, all she could really see was a slab of stone with aquatic grooves carved out of it. Voices dripped down from either side of the ledge, partially muffled, but she could still hear their spoken words thanks to the ambience provided by her niche.
Of all the buildings in the entire town, the one used by local government officials was undoubtedly the most intricately crafted. While the houses of aristocrats and nobles looked to be carved from a petrified segment of the vast oceans, and the most important/successful of businesses came almost close to fancy, they sat humbled by the mightiness of the town hall, comprised of brown and gray rock slipping and folding into fluid curves that yielded to the town's natural grace.
No, this place didn't represent the calm ocean or forgiving rivers; it was a veritable stone tsunami, waves curling and sucking in on each other, crashing and frothing and bending to create walls, balconies, windows, doors. The entire building looked like a typhoon frozen in time, impaling the sky with its twisting, snakelike framework. Smellerbee had only noticed it fleetingly between other buildings from a distance; it stood only a story or two higher than those buildings around it, so even when entering the aristocratic district, it had been hard to spot from street level.
Up close, though, the building could almost have been a palace. Longshot had told her about the houses in Ba Sing Se's Inner Ring, and their grandeur sounded tacky compared to that of the place Captain Liang had holed himself up into. She felt a pang of dejection that something so - so majestic had been corrupted by Fire Nation poison, but she was swift to brush the feelings aside. This was mission time, after all, and by the day's end the city's problems would be remedied.
The other Freedom Fighters - not just Mortar and Pestle - would love this building, though. Smellerbee felt her lips quirk. The Duke in particular would marvel at it, because the exterior was perfect for climbing; it wasn't necessarily a tree, but scaling it all the way to the top would be a feat.
"...killed in combat with children?" One voice said, definitely male; Smellerbee could hear him leering, and was almost certain that it belonged to Captain Liang. Still, they only had one shot at this, so she waited - she had to make sure. This voice was rough and deep, but it turned contemptuous on the word 'children,' a spike rising up into whatever atmosphere the room above contained. "Is this what the mighty Fire Nation army has been reduced to, Corporal? Four adults versus two children, and we lost? Pathetic."
"It's just as your runty underling says." Another voice - deeper and rougher than the first, and Smellerbee knew who it belongs too. Her eyes narrowed as she quashed the hollow, aching sensation in her gut. He really was a despicable asshole. "The Boulder saw it with his own eyes. Two boys, one with a bow and wearing a rice paddy hat, the other using curved swords with war paint on his cheeks."
Smellerbee grit her teeth and snorted, the fingers on one hand clenching into a tight-balled fist. The Boulder working with the Fire Nation was bad enough - but confusing her gender? Come on, she didn't need that on the list! Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to calm down, channeling Longshot: wait for the right opportunity, don't strike too soon. One chance, and it had to be a very precise attack.
"Hmph. Troublesome." First voice again. "They'll have to pay for their transgressions against the Fire Nation."
A pause, and then The Boulder spoke again. "Why waste manpower on something this trivial when a third party could take care of it?"
"Are you insinuating that you will solve this problem for us?"
"Provided the price is right."
"How do I know you won't ally yourself with these Earth Kingdom rebels?"
"The Boulder would've brought the Avatar himself to you guys if it weren't for a cheating...woman. Losing that bounty, plus the fact that there aren't any Earthbending tournaments for another three seasons, puts me in the need for some support, if you understand what the Boulder is saying."
"Very well. How does one thousand gold pieces per body strike your fancy, Earthbender?"
"Two grand apiece, and the Boulder might be so inclined bring them both alive."
"...bring them both alive, and I guarantee twenty-five hundred."
"Fair enough. Now, Captain Liang, the Boulder will -"
Whatever else The Boulder had to say became irrelevant; Smellerbee acted, pressing one fist up against her lips and cupping her other hand over it. She whistled, an inconspicuous bird twitter riding through the air: 'The Boulder is speaking to Liang.' Once the message had been sent, Smellerbee pulled herself up into a sitting position and peered over the edge of her niche; She couldn't see Longshot from her current position, but the arrow that he fired erupted into the sky from one of the buildings back from the direction of the inn, and Smellerbee could hear it whistle as it drew close.
She knew Longshot would hit his target - he always did, there was never any question of that - and so she made to escape as soon as the arrow came into sight, sneaking silently down the curve of the ledge. Above, the voices - already more distant, harder to hear - became fervent, and the words, "Assassin! Assassin!" pierced the air much like Longshot's arrow. No more time for stealth; still on her back, Smellerbee began pressure-walking her way down to the bottom of the niche as it became a vertical drop; she planted her feet against it and sprung away, grabbing onto an outcropping and using the momentum to vault into the air again. She landed on the ground - it must have been a thirty foot drop, but she'd made longer in the forest - rolled, springboarding back to her feet.
She hauled for the nearest alleyway - an escape route she'd mapped out on her way to her hiding place. Heart hammering in her chest, sweat began to bead beneath her headband and adrenaline rushed through her veins, revitalizing Smellerbee-the-warrior, her eyes wide and all-seeing, her ears open and all-hearing. She could smell the dirt she kicked up as she ran, hear the clatter of armor as troops assembled and readied to move out. Her own functions became mute to her; this let her perceive the wailing siren rising up into the air, the cacophony of trampling footsteps, of sortieing soldiers. They'd be chasing after her from the rear and moving towards the building from the front; getting caught meant getting surrounded, meant fighting her way out of the predicament.
She welcomed the opportunity.
The sun blinked out, hidden from view by the buildings as Smellerbee entered the solitude between them; braking to a halt, kicking up more dust, she reached for a cloth-wrapped parcel set against a barrel - Jet's swords and her dagger, tucked away so she could invade the government office without the sound of metal scraping on stone to give her away. She undid the cloth wrapping and sheathed her dagger, keeping Jet's swords in hand (always heavy in her grasp, her fingers never quite fitting around the grips, made for wider hands). She had become acclimated to them by now, and she'd make due. She always did.
Running again, never in a straight line, left, right, right, left - each turn calculated, the sound of enemy soldiers always looming nearby. Their footfalls, the clanking of their armor, the commands issued from officers to enlisted; all of it, so clear, so clean. Smellerbee missed and loved this sensory awareness, an absolute super-perception that only came with battle. From the chatter she could glean between the raucous din of her enemies moving, they could catch a glimpse of her, always fleeting, always losing track of her shortly after; they knew her now, the boy with the crimson face paint, with the hooked swords, who had no doubt been part of the assassination of Captain Liang.
She took the next turn in her route, and three skull-masked soldiers barricaded her path; one wielded a ferocious spiked club, but the other two remained unarmed - Firebenders. They saw her, one of the Firebenders having enough presence of mind to react; he punched the air in front of him, unleashing a burst of fire. Smellerbee juked out of the fire's path, using the hooks on Jet's swords to grab a discarded plank of wood from the filthy, detritus-littered ground; twisting the blades as she'd seen Jet do on a few occasions, she hurled the plank so that it hit the Firebender, connecting with his elbow, making him stumble back.
Not the best shot, but it'd do; Smellerbee jumped, landed in a crouch, and vaulted over the soldiers' heads, using the hooks on Jet's swords to grab two by the helmets. She let her weight and momentum do the rest of the work, bringing her arms forward and down; the soldiers flipped and landed on their backs, and Smellerbee landed in a roll, running just as another fireball seared the air at her back, singeing her hair. She could smell the oxygen burning, an old, familiar war-scent that threatened to bring out her savage, bloodthirsty side.
The further she went, the more soldiers cropped up; she wasn't as generous anymore, she was in a hurry, and she felt the insatiable, growling urge to plunge her blades into something living burble up inside. Jet's swords kissed and bit flesh, clashing against armor as the edge found the gaps and chinks, drawing gushes of crimson and yanking cries of pain and shock from those they cut. As she traversed the distance back to Longshot, Smellerbee thought that this is what it must feel like to be a Waterbender - to flow from one enemy to the next, turning their weight against them, agile, always moving, always adapting.
Almost there. Just one more turn, then she'd be in the vacant lot where Longshot waited for her; oh, what a fantastic adventure this had been, it had been too long, far too long, since they'd gotten to take the fight to the Fire Nation. The Dai Li had turned this entire goddamn war on its head...maybe that's why The Boulder allying himself with the highest bidder hurt more than it surprised her. Even the most loyal Earth Kingdom soldier could turn against their country if prosperity awaited them with the enemy -
- the sky beneath her feet, her side alight with radiating fire, topsy-turvy, she'd been hit, her body slammed into a hard, unyielding wall. She landed in a heap, head buzzing, Jet's swords gone from her grasp.
SCENE DIVIDE
"You guys are givin' The Boulder a hard time today. You know that, right?"
Smellerbee-the-warrior flickered and vanished, taking with it the bloodhaze, shedding itself away and leaving just Smellerbee-the-person; sight and hearing no longer worked so acutely, her vision blurring, her ears blanketed in cotton. Her breath, once fire, had become stone in her chest; she struggled to push herself up into a sitting position, a pair of olive-skinned legs coming into her vision and a strong, muscular hand wrapping around her neck.
"Jerk," Smellerbee murmured, her tongue heavy and voice thick. Blinking, she could barely make out The Boulder's face; chiseled, rugged, a black goatee framing his mouth. The man wasn't that old; Smellerbee knew he was in his early thirties, and any lines on his face yielded just that and nothing more. "Traitor. You're Earth Kingdom."
"The Boulder's also in dire need of cash," he responded, picking her up and shoving her back against the building he'd knocked her into. He Earthbent a pair of makeshift shackles that clamped down around her biceps, her shoulder blades pressed into the cold, rough stonework, heels planted firmly on the ground. "I don't have any more loyalty to the Earth Kingdom than I do the Fire Nation."
Smellerbee made a sound of disgust. "Say what you want, but if you tried to turn Aang in to the Fire Nation and if you're gonna do the same to us, I'd say your loyalties are pretty clear. Turncoat."
"Shut your trap, kid. The Boulder's just a guy trying to make ends' meet, okay?" The Boulder turned away from her, and behind him, Smellerbee saw Longshot - likewise pinned to a building, his hat resting on the ground in front of him. He stared at Smellerbee, concern splattered on his face like blood - but Smellerbee waved a discreet hand at him. She'd be okay.
Surestance and Longshot's ostrich horse stood in one corner of the lot, clicking their beaks and ruffling their feathers in agitation; again, the beasts impressed Smellerbee for their steadfastedness, but the Fire Nation wouldn't care when they got here, time was running out -
"All that matters to the Boulder is that he walks away from this with a pouch full of gold." The Boulder rolled his head, the muscles on his shoulders rippling in response. "What difference does it make who it comes from?"
"It does matter," Smellerbee insisted, closing her eyes tight for a moment in order to will away the fog that had set in over them. When she opened them again, her vision had cleared somewhat, and she didn't feel as dazed. "In the end, the Fire Nation's going to come after you, turncoat or not. All Earthbenders of note and power get taken by them if they don't fight back. We've both seen it happen with our own eyes, and if you don't take a stand against them, the world will break beyond the point of fixing; we'll live in a burnt crater of a world and the Spirits will abandon us."
"That's not the Boulder's problem," The Boulder muttered, casting a weary glance over his shoulder. "Stop trying to do the Boulder any more favors. The Boulder will probably be able to squeeze three times more out of the Fire Nation now that you killed the commanding officer in this city, but that's as much 'standing up' as the Boulder's willing to do."
"They torture your people!" She scowled, lunging forward against her shackles. "I spent four years enslaved in one of their Earth Kingdom mines, and that was before I hit double digits! We've seen them burn entire towns to ashes, from the grandest of cities to the filthiest, most insignificant villages. They have no regard for whose lives they ruin in the process. Longshot and I were part of a group of Freedom Fighters, and we took in orphans from all around - over a dozen, which doesn't include the ones that have died form the war, or malnourishment, or poor living conditions because we don't have anything else. And these are just the survivors! Do you know how many children the Fire Nation kills whenever they attack a village?"
"You said all that earlier today, at the inn. The Boulder isn't interested in your red tape, little boy!" He brought one arm up to bear, two fingers on his hand extended; with a swiping motion, the wall of the building changed shape again to make a brace covering Smellerbee's mouth, pinning her head against the wall. The rough stone kept her hair flat against the back of her head, and Smellerbee growled - struggling, kicking, trying to break free. She wasn't a Bender - only Mortar and Pestle had been, and they were still in Hong Ye.
Her own nation's element, used against her by a man she'd idolized; she stared at him with narrowed, hurt eyes, her breath fiery in her chest and from her nose. The world needed the Freedom Fighters, now more than ever, and without Smellerbee or Longshot to unite them...
"Rotten onions."
Smellerbee paused and turned her gaze to Longshot. The archer glowered, eyes full of that frost-rage, aimed right at The Boulder; the Earthbender crossed his arms over his chest and stared back, a frown etched into his face, making the age lines deeper. "Say what?"
"Two years ago, Earth Rumble IV," Longshot continued, his voice solid and sure and piercing, like the arrows he kept slung around his back. "Hecklers in the audience threw rotten onions at you when you defeated Xin Fu for the title. We were there." He nodded his head in Smellerbee's direction, his gaze only flitting to meet her's for a moment before returning to The Boulder. "She set them straight afterwards."
The sound of clattering armor and rumbling footsteps drew ever-closer. Time was running out (they had only seconds at best), but, again, much like his arrows, Longshot's words hit their target with incredible efficiency. She could glean the desperation lurking, masked beneath the icy hallows of Longshot's rage, and she didn't need to be so perceptive to see gears ticking in The Boulder's head, even with the Earthbender's back mostly to her.
"Damn kids..." The Boulder murmured at last. He took an Earthbending stance, sweeping his arms out and away from his body first (their shackles vanished and Smellerbee collapsed to one knee), then bringing them up and in - large slabs of granite erupted from the ground with a series of thunderous crunches, blocking off any conventional entrance to the small backlot. "You have The Boulder's interest, but he's running low on patience. Win him over or he's walking out of this town a rich man."
Longshot fixed him with an irritated glare, but his lips remained tightly sealed; he had broken his vow enough for one day, Smellerbee knew, watching as he bent over to pick up his hat. That was okay, though, because Smellerbee knew what she needed to say in order to get The Boulder's attention.
"Your personal gain goes hand in hand with your country." The young swordswoman walked over to the Earthbender; he towered over her, a fully grown man leering at a sinewy teenager, both deadly, waging a war of verbosity. "There's nothing to stop the Fire Nation from conquering the world now."
"Pah. If that's all you have, then the Boulder may as well turn you in right now." The Boulder regarded her with a droll gaze, his olive skin glistening in the light cast by the peaking sun. "Nothing The Boulder hasn't heard before. As long as Ba Sing Se still stands, there's - "
"Ba Sing Se has fallen." Smellerbee's voice split The Boulder's words like a whip lashing against flesh, causing him to flinch. "The Fire Lord's daughter, Azula, infiltrated Ba Sing Se and conquered it from within. The last major stronghold against the Fire Nation is Omashu, and even then we haven't heard if it's still standing; if Ba Sing Se can fall, Omashu ain't unconquerable, either."
The Boulder furrowed his brow, eyes gone narrow. "No way. Seriously? Even the Dragon of the West couldn't get through the walls of Ba Sing Se!"
"Good to know you're not as much of a dummy as you are a jerk," Smellerbee huffed, her hair bristling. The soldiers had reached the walls The Boulder erected, scrabbling at it, hurling fireballs at it, shouting - not getting far. They'd smarten up soon, though - go into the buildings surrounding the lot and launch fireballs through the windows, or lob them over the stone walls. "But that's not all. The Fire Lord's son, Prince Zuko, killed the Avatar in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se. The world has no other hope aside from what humanity itself can offer now."
"..." The Boulder considered her words for a moment, mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown. Just like she'd predicted, one Fire Nation soldier was enough of a lateral thinker to throw fire over the wall; it collided with a bundle of hay set against the far wall of the lot, igniting it, turning it into a crackling, glorified camp fire. Even though it cleanly missed both human and ostrich horse, it'd only take a few seconds for them to start bombarding the lot with reckless abandon. Or one of them would climb up on the rooftops. Or...
She saw the Fireball coming and tried to roll out of the way - but her knee gave out, still weak from The Boulder's attack - Longshot lunged, but he was too far away - she could feel the searing heat, scorching her skin -
A slab of dark brown rock erupted upward from the ground between Smellerbee and the fireball; flames plumed off of the top and sides, and only cinders caressed her cheeks, her armor. The Boulder delivered a fierce uppercut to the air, sending the slab into the window peering into the lot from one of the surrounding buildings; the Fire Nation soldier occupying it couldn't avoid the blow and got knocked inwards, crashing what sounded like a table that had been set, with splintering wood and shattering plateware as it was dashed across the floor.
The Boulder planted his feet apart and shot his arms straight out, fingers extended and palms flat. The earth caved in at the center of the lot, sending jolts of vibration through Smellerbee's body and kicking up a sweeping cloud of dust, leaving a dark pit in its wake.
"Come on!" He called, waving for the others. "Let's blow this town while we can!"
Smellerbee couldn't help but grin as she reached for the nearest of Jet's swords.
SCENE DIVIDE
Far outside the town's limits, Smellerbee sat on a gentle, rolling hill overlooking the burnt, vandalized walls with one pants leg rolled up past her knee. Longshot returned to her from Surestance, medical gauze draped in his hands, tangled around his fingers; she could see how badly he wanted to wrap her knee up himself, but one quick look (saying, 'Do not do this on front of my hero, if you wanna be able to sit down straight for the next week,') had him backing down with a grin. He handed the bandages over and sat down on the soft grass beside her, lolling his head back on his shoulders as the sun continued its daily trek through the bright blue sky towards evening.
"So, you really managed to get all those orphans into the arena that night?" The Boulder asked, his legs crossed beneath him, his olive-green pantaloons laden with dust. "Did they have fun?"
"Yeah - we'd raided enough Fire Nation supply lines that we could afford tickets for everyone, and they had an absolute blast. Even the ones who wanted someone else to win." Smellerbee began wrapping the knee in question, the gauze rough against her skin; while taking the blow from The Boulder had done something funny to the joint, it wasn't something that wouldn't heal with time and care. The wrap would keep pressure on it. She grinned, memories of that night two years ago licking at her subconscious again. "I still remember the moment you finished off Xin Fu with that ground-breaker lifting side slam move of yours. Launched him clear out of the ring - I don't think I've ever screamed louder, it was that awesome."
The Boulder gave her a grin packed to the brim with machismo; the man may have finally gotten his head on straight so far as his allegiances were concerned, but he still had an ego the size of an elephant boar. She honestly wouldn't prefer it any other way. "The Boulder aims to please. Or rather, he did...fighting for the entertainment of others was his life, a long time ago." The robust conceit slipped away, yielding to - wistfulness? Smellerbee saw it in his eyes, swirling behind the pupils, and it made her stomach drop. It felt so strange, getting to be so personal with her idol. "When he was an up-and-coming fighter in Xin Fu's promotions, other peoples' happiness at his expense - through his matches - was what really mattered. As he got older, though, the Boulder guesses that he just...lost sight of that. Got obsessed with gold and belts and fame."
"...I'm really glad to hear you say that." Smellerbee smiled. "Now you sound a lot like the Boulder I thought you were two years ago. A person that people my age can admire."
"Heh. For you, kid, anything." The Boulder clambered to his feet just as Smellerbee finished tying off the wrap; she and Longshot stood with him, both Freedom Fighters looking at their unexpected comrade. "But I think this is where we gotta go our own ways. You have to head to Omashu to find your friends; the Boulder have unfinished business back in town."
"Huh?" Smellerbee's heart fell. Why would he go back, when he'd already made himself a known enemy to the Fire Nation now...? "You could get hurt - maybe you should come with us."
"The Boulder would like to. He likes what you guys do...but, he has a mistake back there that needs to be fixed. Something so important that it don't matter how dangerous it is." The Boulder pointed to the city, and Smellerbee followed his finger - to the barely visible roof of the inn, so far away now. "A boy with a burnt hand needs an apology. You've opened the Boulder's eyes, kid, and that boy don't deserve what he got 'cause the Boulder didn't think it was his problem, you know? He might not accept it, an' the Boulder can't do anything to fix the damage himself. But it'll be out there if he decides to forgive him someday."
Smellerbee felt Longshot's hand on her shoulder - turned to look at him, saw the smile he hid so well behind his eyes. She grinned back and returned her gaze to the Boulder. "Alright. We can understand that. Good luck, okay? Don't get yourself killed after all this."
"Haha, even their toughest can't take down The Boulder!" the Earthbender crowed. He turned on a bare heel, ready to return to the city, before stopping in his tracks; he held out his hands, made a quiet "ooh!," and turned back to face the Freedom Fighters. "Before he forgets - something to remember him by."
With that, he withdrew from the pockets of his pants two miniature scrolls, a quill, and a corked bottle of ink; he laid each scroll on the ground and opened them, jotting his name on each, addressing one to Smellerbee and the other to Longshot. Finished, he put the stopper back on the bottle and pocketed both it and the quill; he handed one scroll to each Freedom Fighter, a broad grin on his face.
Turning once more, he said over his shoulder, "Those are really rare. Not a lot of people have The Boulder's autograph, so be sure to treasure them!"
Smellerbee, watching her hero walk away from them - yet, walking the same path, a bloody, war torn, and ultimately heroic road - could only hug the scroll to her chest and mouth and utter a mewling squeal.
Longshot grinned despite himself. Oh yeah, she was such a fangirl.
Smellerbee growled and gave him a lovetap on the bicep. "For the last time I am not!"