Fire on the Horizon

by ACHMEDklU

The world is at war, and the Avatar, the ultimate balance and peace in the world, has been missing for a hundred years. A boy with red airbender tattoos festers in the belly of a certain scarred individual's ship, waiting for his chance to return to the world proper. Can he escape the banished prince before he goes down with the ship, or is there another way?

5. Chapter 5

**Note from author: Hello again. I hope you're still enjoying the story. Reviews would be fabulous. I'll be heading up north soon, where internet is famously scarce, so the next chapters may be few and far between. You've been warned.**

I stood on the wide deck of Zhao's ship, a chill wind giving me gooseflesh all over. The only thing shielding me from the cold besides my usual ragged pants was the traditional red shawl draped over my pale shoulders. I knelt on the steel deck, concentrating on stoking the fire in my veins so I didn't freeze. Re-Lin and Shang stood close by, holding my unoccupied chains and looking distinctly uncomfortable at being the only men on my end of the deck.

Shang nodded rigidly at me. I stood and shrugged off the cloth as I slowly turned around. A hundred paces away, Zhao was doing the same, clad in simple, baggy pants, his feet bare. His officers were lined up behind him, along with his top firebenders. Zhao had ordered the ship stopped so everyone could watch; the rest of the crew stood along the railing, forming a makeshift dueling field. A pair of engineers stood near Zhao, holding a bound and gagged Shun between them. He was looking at me fearfully, and I gave him a reassuring nod.

"Let's get this over with, boy," Zhao called to me. "The sooner I beat you, the sooner I can get back to my destiny!"

I ignored his baiting and began to draw deep breaths, relaxing and visualizing the coming duel. I'd learned the rudiments of firebending almost seventy years ago from a Fire Nation deserter, but my real prowess lay in non-bending combat; I'd studied several forms of hand-to-hand fighting under a succession of prisoners, quickly rising to the level of unofficial master. Unfortunately, that meant I was going to have to get close to Zhao to stand any chance of winning, as I had no illusions of besting him with my bending.

I drew in a final breath, feeling my chest strain against the ever-present steel bands. My shoulder blades twinged, and I could faintly feel my chi shifting to my hands and feet. I let the breath out and called back, "Whenever you're ready, Commander!" Zhao nodded at the helmsman, who cried, "Begin!"

Zhao wasted no time, sending a flurry of fireballs my way. I shifted, sidestepped, and dodged them all, but my muscles were unaccustomed to the strain and quickly began to ache. 'The longer this takes, the less chance I have of winning,' I realized. I'd been cooped up in a tiny ship's cell for two years, chained hand and foot. My body wouldn't keep going like this for long.

Keeping this firmly in mind, I concentrated on moving as little as possible, only shifting a step or two in any direction; my mind turned instinctively to my Air Nomad teachings, and I danced circles around Zhao's increasingly wild fire blasts, my feet light on the deck.

Zhao abruptly gave up on the fireballs. He thrust out his arms and roared, twin streams of fire blazing from his palms right at me. Clapping my hands together, I rooted myself and shunted the streams off to either side. Whirling, I sliced my hand through the air, a wave of fire eating the space between us. He broke it with ease and went back to his fireballs, his frustration making them bigger and hotter.

I grimaced and tried to go on the offensive, but I couldn't dodge and fire at the same time. I dropped to the deck and swirled one leg, intending to fry his ankles, but he jumped and gave me a double-footed blast that sent me rolling across the deck. Remembering how he'd pinned Zuko down like that during their duel, I let my momentum carry me back to my feet and threw shot after shot his way, pouring fire into the sky.

He landed and met my shots with his own. I tried a series of kicks and quick jabs, followed by three rapid sweeps of flame. Zhao battered through them all without a bead of sweat, swiftly and furiously returning fire. I suddenly found myself ducking and diving underneath fireball after fireball, the heat of their passing making the sweat on my limbs sizzle faintly. Trying to rush him, I met a fire blast head-on, intending to break it. I misjudged the timing, though, and was sent flying again, crashing hard against the railing.

I slumped to the deck, stars dancing behind my eyes. I shook them away to see Zhao swaggering toward me. "You never had a chance," he snarled, producing twin daggers of flame. "Now I'll show you the price of challenging me. How'd you like a scar to match the prince's?"

As he drew back his fist, I heaved a great breath and blew a massive gout of flame, sending him sliding across the deck, fire cascading around him as he struggled to shield himself. Taking my opportunity, I sprang after him as fast as I could and threw fire like a wild man, doing anything I could to keep him off balance as I desperately tried to get close enough to put my fists to good use.

He brushed aside my attacks with contemptuous ease and regained his footing. I roared fire at him again as I ran; while his vision was obscured by flame, I tried to leap over him, wanting to take him unawares from behind. But he latched onto my ankle with a grip of iron, halting my momentum in midair and flinging me back into the railing as crewmen dove out of the way.

I brushed aside the pain and was on my feet in an instant, surprising him and giving me time to get close. He thrust a palm at me, but I laid a feather-light touch on his elbow and redirected it with ease while I jabbed him twice in the armpit. He hissed as his arm went dead.

He swung like an angry platypus-bear, his meaty fists sending great waves and gouts of fire swirling across the deck. He didn't come close to hitting me though, and with every blow he missed, I landed two, my fists darting in and out like furious wasps. He brought both fists up in a haymaker, and I danced behind him, putting a hand on each of his shoulder blades and using the classic airbender technique of redirection and evasion from behind.

Realizing he'd never be able to touch me, he snarled and thrust both hands at the floor, making a ring of fire that blasted me off my feet. I threw a low kick at his shins, but he quickly retreated out of range and sent me flying into the railing for a third time with a massive tongue of flame.

I gasped and struggled to rise; at least one of my ribs was broken, possibly two. I coughed up a few breaths of smoke and slumped to the deck. "Get him up," I heard Zhao order, and I was hoisted roughly to my feet by two crewmen. They held me by my arms, and one twisted my bald head up to look at Zhao, who was standing over me like a fiery god of war.

"I win."

I looked him in the eye before I coughed up a gob of sizzling phlegm on his foot, making him yelp. "I don't think so," I informed him. Wrenching a hand free, I swept it toward him. His arm snapped out, knocking my clumsy flame aside and dealing me a hefty blow in the side. I winced and slumped again, only the firm grip of the crewmen keeping me upright. He swung his other fist, and suddenly one of my legs was engulfed in searing flame. My calf burned white-hot, my nerves baking, and I screamed in pain.

Zhao gave an incoherent bellow, his fists suddenly swallowed in orange-yellow flame as he began to punch and kick with wild abandon. After the first few blows, the pain faded to a dull ache, and black velvet began to crowd my vision, the roaring of flames receding in my ears. I began to fade in and out…

Zhao standing a few feet away, his massive chest heaving as he held a scrawny ship's medic aloft with one hand while the young man begged the commander to show restraint, lest he kill me…

Zhao beckoning the men holding me to bring me forward, dragging me along the deck…

The faces of the entire crew spread out before me like a faithful congregation, and Zhao's back as he proclaimed his victory…

Zhao's face inches away from my own. "Can you hear me?" he demanded.

I coughed in his face. "Unfortunately," I croaked, my vision hazy. We were belowdecks again, standing outside what looked like a medical bay.

"Good," he growled. He stood and beckoned, and Shun was brought forward. Despite my condition, panic rose in my broken chest.

"As an act of good faith, I'm going to honor your request," Zhao told me magnanimously, then ordered his men to unbind my friend. As Shun's manacles fell away, he looked at me with such concern that my heart nearly broke. The pain of my ribs wormed their way into my unstable mind, and as the darkness closed in, Zhao ordered, "Take him to his cell and let his 'handler' deal with him."

"I hope you know how much of an idiot you are."

I didn't bother wasting energy opening my eyes, content to lie still and move as little as possible. With every breath, my chest felt like it was filled with lava. My leg hurt as well, though not nearly as badly, and I knew I was going to have some lovely bruises on my face if I didn't already.

"You didn't have to do that, by the way," Shun's voice continued. "Zhao wouldn't have dared to torture me, a Fire Nation citizen. He was just trying to get you to cooperate. Maybe if you'd listened to me in the first place, you wouldn't be in this mess." I heard him sigh. "After listening to his officers, Zhao agreed to let me remain free as your companion, though I'll be accompanied at all times. He expects you to keep your end of the bargain, though how you're supposed to do that in your sorry state, I don't know."

"How bad?" I breathed, flinching as my ribs flared.

"According to the medics, you've got two broken ribs; the only reason they aren't shattered is because of those metal bands, so I don't want to hear you complaining about them anymore. You've got various bumps and bruises from getting tossed all along the damn deck, along with a few burns from Zhao's fists, and your right leg is pretty well toasted."

He rubbed some ointment on said leg and I winced again, an involuntary groan escaping through my teeth. I heard footsteps come running down the hallway. "Why didn't you tell me he'd woken up?" a gruff voice demanded. "Knock him out again; I'm not finished setting his ribs."

"Here, drink this. It'll help," Shun said, and a cup touched my lips. I tried to resist so I could find out where I was, but my heart wasn't in it, and I gulped the drug down. It tingled funnily as it went down, and a minute later I was out again, happy to let the dark take me this time.

I spent the next few miserable days chained to a bed in the medical bay. Shun tried his best to stay at my side as much as he could, but he was always being called away for some reason or another; I suspected it was Zhao's doing. The medics would come by every few hours to make sure I hadn't keeled over or escaped, and to make me eat some horribly bitter sort of root that helped with the pain. My broken ribs were a pain in the ass (or the chest, to be precise), but the medical bay was a nice change of pace from sitting in a cell all day long; the medics had gone over Zhao's head and had had me transferred there, instead. I talked to the medics whenever they came around, trying to get some news or gossip, but they were mostly tight-lipped. I spent my time meditating the way the monks taught me and harassing the two guards that stood next to my bed at all times, making sure I didn't escape. I tried talking to them, too, but it was like talking to a set of matched brick walls; since they didn't seem to mind one way or another, I called them Dimar and Tino.

When I'd recovered enough to sit up in bed and speak without feeling like my chest would implode, I had asked Shun what he'd thought of my Agni Kai. "It was a bloody fool thing to do, that's what I think," he'd spat. "I do appreciate you coming to my defense, though," he'd added grudgingly.

"What are friends for?"

"How'd you to learn to fight like that?" Shun had asked, and I'd explained how I'd mastered non-bending combat from various prisoners that I'd shared cells with over the years. "I can take out a whole squad of your firebenders without a wisp of smoke," I had bragged. "Providing I'm not chained hand and foot, that is."

"Around here, that's not something to be proud of," Shun had smirked, his eyes flicking toward the firebenders flanking my bed.

Then he'd had to leave again, and I was left with expert conversationalists Dimar and Tino. With them around, I figured it was a bad idea to continue practicing my firebending, so I confined myself to meditating for hours on end, still striving to reach my spirit side. Even with my eyes closed, I could still feel them changing, still feel the rush of energy that would race through my body for a split second before it left, returning me to normal and leaving me to grumble and seethe. Those episodes were few and far between, though, and I began to wonder if the superstitious glyphs etched into the bands on my chest really did affect spirits, after all.

Finally, a week later, the perplexed medics declared me fit for duty (or, more accurately, imprisonment) and had me transferred back to my cell, still muttering amongst themselves about how a set of cracked ribs had somehow healed in 7 days; the burns stumped them even more, fading to barely-visible pink scars in less than two days. I tried to keep my smirks to myself: being half-spirit definitely had its perks sometimes. I'd first learned of my speedy healing abilities when the monks took me to visit the Southern Air Temple. Aang, not knowing that I couldn't airbend, had insisted on taking me for a glider ride. I'd fallen hard and broken my arm, but was fine a week or two later, much to my friends' amazement. Baffled by their questions, I asked my caretakers why everyone was so surprised, and they'd told me that, because I was half-spirit, my otherworldly energy mended my earthly body faster than normal. Still, like any sane human-spirit hybrid, I avoided pain and injury as much as possible, seeing as they weren't good for my health.

Soon, I was back in good ol' prison again. I kept waiting for Zhao to come down and gloat about his victory, but after he didn't show for a few hours, I gave up on him. Instead, Shun had arrived with two unfamiliar guards in tow.

Shun asked if he and I could have a little privacy, but the guards refused, leaning against the wall with hard expressions. Shun didn't make a big deal about it, simply turning to me and saying, "Sorry. I tried."

I nodded my understanding. "I'm sorry I got us into this mess."

Shun snorted, though there was no humor in his dark amber eyes. "Well, it is kind of your fault." He chuckled and waved my offended expression away. "I'm joking. You were right all along, Dao. I should have listened to you when you told me what kind of man Commander Zhao is." He glanced over his shoulder at the guards, who remained silent, though their surly expressions told me that Shun was beginning to tread dangerous ground.

He switched topics wisely. "So, care to explain how you healed a set of cracked ribs in a week?"

I grinned cheekily at him. "My special magical spirit powers," I intoned mysteriously, wiggling my fingers spookily at the guards and giggling.

Shun leaned back and crossed his arms skeptically, but I didn't bother explaining further; besides, I'd technically told him the truth. "And you wonder why you're in a cell: you keep harassing the people in power!"

"Aw, you're just jealous of my winning personality."

"Seriously, though, Dao," Shun continued, leaning forward, "I want to apologize for our fight. I was blinded by my own ambition and Zhao's words. I shouldn't have said some of the things I did."

"There's nothing to forgive, my friend," I assured him, smiling. "I'm just glad things are back to some semblance of normalcy. Has Zhao said anything about fulfilling my end of the bargain?"

Shun shook his head, frustrated. "No, I haven't heard anything. I've been pretty well shut out of the loop ever since Zhao decided to stop being 'nice' to us. He talked about busting me back down to Private, but the captain convinced him to make me an engineer's assistant down in the engine rooms; apparently, they're shorthanded," he said, his face twisting in disgust. "It's always hot and grimy down there, but at least the company is okay. The engineers don't talk much, but they're some good guys."

"At least you don't have to see Zhao's ugly mug all the time, right?"

He grinned at me, but footsteps ringing down the hall made him turn to look. It must have been Zhao, because he sprang to his feet and saluted just as the two guards watching us snapped to attention.

"Ah, Corporal Shun. Still taking care of our guest? I admire your dedication to duty, but you're needed down below," chided a strange voice sternly. I craned my neck forward, trying to look down the hallway. To my surprise, I saw the captain coming into view, escorted by a team of firebenders in their creepy skull helmets.

"Yes, sir. On my way, sir." Shun strode off purposefully, playing the part of the dutiful soldier again, and the captain came over to my cell. I stood up and crossed my arms, though I nodded respectfully; he may have been Fire Nation, but I had nothing personal against the man.

"Captain," I acknowledged, letting my uncertainty about his visit show plainly in my voice.

He raised one thin, well-tended eyebrow. "Forgive me, I'm not used to such etiquette from prisoners," he returned.

"Despite what you may believe, being a half-spirit from an extinct culture doesn't make me a barbarian or a rube. Besides, you did my friend, Corporal Shun, a favor; I won't easily forget that."

"I'll bear that in mind," the captain replied, his expression calm and controlled, though tinted slightly with distaste. "For now, though, I'm here to take you to see Commander Zhao."

"What makes you think I want to see him?" I snorted.

The captain's face hardened. "Do not mistake my manners for friendliness. Commander Zhao may hold the highest rank, but this is my ship, and you will do as I say!"

"Do I detect a bit of tension between you and the good commander?" The captain frowned severely, and I held up my hands in a gesture of peace. "Easy, there, Captain. I submit. Take me away."

Apparently, Zhao was done playing the benevolent captor (in case the two cracked ribs and numerous burns hadn't given it away), as I was back to being bound, gagged, and hooded for the trip topside. A door clanged shut behind me, I was tied to a chair, the hood was whisked away, and there Zhao stood, menacingly resplendent in his commander's sash and golden rank insignias. His face was as cruel as ever, and his eyes twinkled with an evil sort of glee.

"Have a nice nap the past few days?" he chortled. "I figured you needed a bit of rest after that pathetic children's game you call a fire duel."

"Did you know that your mutton chops make you look like a rabid weasel?" I wondered aloud, idly examining my surroundings with an expression of unparalleled boredom; we appeared to be in Zhao's private chambers.

His grin disappeared faster than a gopher down a hole. "Quiet! You're here to hold up your end of the deal, not make idiotic insults."

"I said I'd do my best to help you find the Avatar. I didn't say I'd be nice about it," I reminded him. "Which, by the way, news flash: I have absolutely no idea about where or how to find the Avatar."

Zhao visibly made an effort to calm himself, going over to his desk and sitting in a cushy metal chair. "I really shouldn't be surprised that you won't satisfy the terms of our bargain, I suppose," he mused. "You are nothing but a filthy member of a dead nation. Why would you have any honor?"

"Maybe you didn't hear me around your mammoth sideburns, so I'll say it again, slowly," I clarified, working hard to ignore his comment. "I. Can't. Find. The kid. There's no magical spirit bullshit that I can pull to find him, so get that through your thick, idiot skull. I'm just as clueless about where he is as the rest of your crew."

Zhao mulled this over for a while, peering at me over his steepled hands as he sat at his desk. Every so often, he'd narrow his eyes suspiciously, as if considering something. Then he got up and stared at the great world map that covered the back wall of his room. There were lines drawn all over it, jumping in some random pattern from one location to the next; some were in thick, bold ink, while others were light and scratched out. The longest of these was one that stretched all the way to Kyoshi Island, where Zhao's men and Shun had failed to find any evidence of Aang.

Finally, Commander Zhao paced over to me. "As unbelievable as this is, I believe you, Dao," he disclosed, smiling down at me like some proud, twisted uncle. "There's really no way for you to help me track the Avatar. I have some of the best scouts and spies in the Fire Nation on the hunt for him, and they've all come up practically empty-handed." He put a hand on either of my shoulders. "So you see, I understand your position perfectly. You'd fulfill your end of the deal if you could, but you just don't think there's any way to manage it."

"Out with it, Commander," I demanded. "What are you getting at?"

He moved behind me, and I got the distinct feeling of being circled by a hungry moose-lion. "I've devised a different way to find the boy. Instead of chasing him, I'll make him come to me." Coming around my other side, he threw me a look of ominous satisfaction. "With your unique talents, you'll be able to cause quite a commotion," he hinted.

An ice-cold wire slithered down my back, wrapping around my spine. "Explain."

"Many years ago, I stumbled upon a vast library. Among other things, I learned that spirits can be beings of great power, capable of great acts of creation or destruction. You are going to use your power to draw the Avatar to me."

Shock and anger stole through me as I grasped what he was suggesting. "You're insane!" I exclaimed to Zhao's back as he retreated to his map. "I don't have any spirit power! And even if I did, what am I supposed to do with it? Sit on the deck chanting some ancient mumbo-jumbo until the Avatar appears from thin air?"

"As the bridge between the human and spirit worlds, the Avatar is sensitive to even mild levels of spiritual energy," Zhao continued to mutter, seemingly ignoring my outburst. "He'll sense your outpouring of spirit power and come running to find the source." Zhao smiled mercilessly. "And I'll be there, ready for him."

"Hey moron!" Zhao snapped out of his dreams of world domination or whatever long enough to look at me again. "If you're planning to try and get me to help you capture the only hope for the world, you might want to let me in on your sinister plan."

"After the beating I gave you, I'd have thought you learned some manners," Zhao chided me, lighting a flame on his palm. "Even with your unusually speedy recovery, it won't trouble me at all when I burn you black from your feet to your eyeballs," he promised casually, his tongue of flame burning white-hot for a moment before he snuffed it out. "So shut up and do as you're told."

"I'll make this simple for you. I saw you connect with your spirit half when I threatened your precious handler, so I have an idea of the power you must wield. I've decided to take the Earth Kingdom city of Omashu to jump-start my road to glory. With you blazing the trail at the front of my army, I'll be killing two birds with one stone: I'll capture one of the last Earth Kingdom holdouts in the name of the Fire Lord, and I'll capture the Avatar soon after when he responds to the massive destructive power that you will unleash on the city. It's foolproof." Zhao turned and sat down with a smug, self-satisfied grin.

"And what makes you think I'm going to unleash anything except a bad smell on Omashu?"

"Bad smell?" Zhao's furry eyebrows furrowed.

I made a show of sniffing my shoulders. "Let me throw you in a cell for a few decades, and we'll see how your personal hygiene fares," I joked dryly.

Zhao wasn't amused.

"You're an awful big fool to be coming up with such a 'foolproof' plan," I continued. "You can't threaten Shun again without looking like you're making false accusations against a Fire Nation soldier, and I can take anything you can throw at me. You have no leverage."

"Don't I?" Zhao sneered. "No, I may not be able to hold a flame to Corporal Shun's neck in front of half the crew. However, I am more than capable of arranging his untimely disappearance!" Zhao slammed his hands down flat on his desk. "Now, are you going to cooperate or must you be the cause of more needless violence on my ship?"

I chewed my lip (something I must have picked up from Shun, since I'd gone a century without doing it once). "Give me a minute to think it over."

Zhao's smile was as false as a horse's grin. "I'm a generous man. Take two."

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him and considered his offer. Unfortunately, he was right, on every front: I couldn't tell Zhao to shove it without endangering Shun, something I refused to do. He was also right about Aang; the otherworldly output of a half-spirit going ballistic on a major city would bring the Avatar running in an instant. The pointy-sideburned bastard had me over a cliff. Again.

Of course, there was no guarantee that I'd be able to unleash the beast at all. Even in my calmest moments of meditation or most furious of rages, I'd only been able to change my eyes; sure, it augmented my firebending, but not to city-leveling proportions. There was no way I was going to survive spearheading the attack on Omashu. Those earthbenders were going to squash me like a bug.

Still, Zhao didn't know any of that, so I figured the best thing to do was just to bluff him to keep Shun and I out of trouble; I'd come up with a better idea later. Spirits knew I didn't have anything else to do. I cleared my throat to get Zhao's attention.

"I hope you made the right decision."

"As if I had a choice," I grumbled, "but yes, I think I did. For now. I'll be your weapon against Omashu."

Zhao let a small smile spread across his face; somehow, it was even scarier than his maniacal ones. "Good. You'll see me again when we get closer to our destination." He sat down and began poring over papers on his desk: a clear dismissal. The guards at either of my shoulders pulled me to my feet and marched me away, leaving their commander, for all I knew, to ponder the best wax to use for sculpting his mutton chops.

I waited patiently after I was put back in my cell. Sure enough, after a few hours, Shun came marching down the hallway, followed closely by an alert Re-Lin and Shang. Re-Lin kept worrying his usually-neat goatee, and I wondered off-handedly what could have the usually docile man in such a tizzy. Shang was the same as ever, his baby face set in as close to a severe look as he could manage.

"Heard you had a talk with Zhao," Shun started, but I waved him quiet.

"We need to talk, Corporal. Alone."

Surprise, worry, and curiosity all flitted across my friend's face. He turned to the men behind him, and Shang immediately frowned in confusion. "Give us some space," Shun ordered.

"All due respect, Corporal," Re-Lin quavered, fingering his goatee nervously, "but we've got orders not to leave you alone with the prisoner."

Shun's eyes hardened, his easygoing manner gone in an instant and replaced with a soldier's stern attitude. "And I just gave you new orders. Are you questioning them?"

"Our orders come straight from the captain," Shang replied doggedly, his eyes fixed on the opposite wall to avoid eye contact.

Shun stepped uncomfortably close to the shorter man. "And you're going to listen to a filthy seaman instead of your brother soldier?" he accused quietly. A bead of sweat crept stealthily down Re-Lin's temple, but Shang stood his ground, only his eyes betraying his nervousness.

Shun smiled suddenly. "That was a joke, boys. It's okay to laugh," he assured them, chuckling a little himself. Re-Lin laughed with him, if a bit shrilly, and Shang smiled goofily; I got the impression that subtle nuances escaped him, seeing as he wasn't exactly the sharpest spear on the rack. "Seriously, though, I just need a few minutes to talk to him. You guys know Dao; he won't try anything. Right, Dao?"

I gave them a cheesy grin and a thumbs-up.

"No problem, Corporal," Re-Lin promised. He nudged Shang, who repeated, "No problem!" The two hurried down the hallway until they were just out of hearing range."

"All right, now why all the secrecy?" Shun asked, turning back to me. "I probably just used up my one solid with those guys. I'll have to let Shang win our next Pai Sho match; I'll never hear the end of it!" he moaned.

I paused, the thought of Shang playing Pai Sho running like a poison through my mind. "Never mind that," I told him, shaking the image away. "We've got a serious problem."

"What's this 'we' stuff, spirit boy? And what is it with you and serious problems? Can't it ever be something minor, like, 'Oh, my cuffs are chafing,' or, 'Wow, I haven't had fish in a while. Maybe put in a good word with the cook for me?'"

I launched into an explanation of my audience with Zhao: how he wanted to use me as some sort of spirit superweapon, both to crumble Omashu's defenses and to draw the Avatar close enough to capture him, and how Zhao had threatened to make Shun himself "disappear" if I didn't do my part. It didn't take very long, but Shun's expression still went from skeptical to vaguely horrified in a matter of minutes.

When I'd finished, he leaned against the bars like he might fall at any second. "I'd say that I can't believe it, except I can," he laughed helplessly. "What are we going to do, Dao?"

"Oh, so all of a sudden it's 'we?'"

"You were right. This is bad," he conceded.

I jumped on his admission. "Bad enough to bust me out of here, yeah?"

Shun's head whipped back and forth so fast I figured he'd broken his neck. "Quiet!" he hissed, having satisfied himself that no one else was around to hear; I was the only prisoner, and Re-Lin and Shang were down the hall somewhere. "You could get me accused of treason for even saying that!"

"What's your point? You're already being threatened, and you've only got the one life to lose. Unless you've got an extra hidden away somewhere that I don't know about?"

"We've discussed this, Dao!"

"So you do have an extra? Can I borrow it?"

"I meant the treason! We've talked about that already!"

"No, I've mentioned it, and then we got interrupted. Plus, you never actually said no, so it's still on the table, right?" Shun looked unsatisfied with my shaky logic.

"Look, think about it. If I don't become Zhao's pet spirit monster - which I'm not going to - then he's going to have you killed. As long as I keep resisting him, he's going to keep threatening you because he knows it's the only way to get to me. The only way to get out from under his thumb is for me to escape, and for you to come with me!"

Shun waved a hand. "Whoa. Back up. Two things. One, who said anything about me going with you? Discreetly letting you slip away is one thing, but going AWOL is another. Two, assuming I do actually let you loose, where are you going to go? Down a cell or two? Up a deck and hide in the cargo hold for however long we happen to be at sea?!"

"I figured that out while I was waiting for you," I promised, "but before I tell you what the plan is, you have to decide whether you're going to free me."

Shun bit his lip and began to pace in front of my cell. I left him alone to walk it out and folded my legs to meditate. But before I could even take a deep, calming breath (which always invariably smelled of metal, seawater, and my own odor, and so wasn't very calming at all), he stopped and stared me straight in the face, looking resigned. "Well, seeing as I don't have much of a choice, I guess I'll just commit treason. At least then Zhao will have a good excuse to kill me." He heaved a sigh, but I could see the glint in his eye that was equal parts excitement and apprehension.

"That's the spirit. Now you know how I feel all the time." I held one hand out as far as I could. "So we're in this together?"

"For better or worse, you're my friend. I'm with you." Shun shook my hand with finality. I looked him in the eye. "Thank you, Shun," I said seriously. "You're the only friend I've had in a long time, and-"

Shun brushed my hand away with a smile. "Let's save the mushy stuff for when we're safe."

I smiled back, then let a sly glint leap into my eye. "Very well, then, here's the plan." I gave him the specifics of what I'd concocted as swiftly as I could. He made a puzzled face, but chortled when he realized the brilliance of what I was suggesting. "I can do that," he promised. "Just be ready when I come for you." With that, he called for Re-Lin and Shang.

"Oh, don't you worry. I've been ready for a hundred years," I muttered gleefully.