Ever heard the song "Into the Fire" by Thirteen Senses? Have I mentioned it before? I have no idea, but if I haven't it's basically the shit, and you should listen to it. Thanks for waiting! I'm trying to be better about updates, I promise!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Into the Fire
The darkness that night was suffocating. Black, smothering clouds billowed up over the edges of the mountains and rolled across the sky like ink dripping off paper. No rain fell, but Katara could feel it waiting in the air, infiltrating every breath and collecting in sweat along her spine. Aang crouched next to her, unusually still, and On Ji flanked him, her breaths not quiet enough, her eyes flitting around nervously. She'd refused to stay behind as soon as it was suggested, but Iroh had agreed to lead them to the entrance and then go back to the cave with Lani and depart for Ba Sing Se the next morning. The little girl was currently hidden away, waiting for Iroh's return.
It had been decided that no matter what, Lani should not be present for what came after tonight's adventure.
It had taken three days of careful planning to bring them to where they were now. Three days of watching the guards cycle through their posts, of Iroh meditating on the memory of a floorplan he hadn't seen in years, of preparing themselves for every possible outcome. Sokka had been in jail for two weeks and he needed to get out. If that meant they risked all, so be it. Katara had already determined that her brother would not endure another night locked up, and her hands itched to begin.
Iroh knew the palace from his boyhood and early adult years, and he remembered only one secret entrance into the palace that he'd mapped out for certain. It was an emergency route down to the port, meant for the royal family's escape in the case of a siege on the palace. The night before, he'd gone out to find the entrance, and had come home hours later looking tired but triumphant. Now, as they walked through the shadows of the streets, Iroh guided them forward with his head high and his eyes calm.
Katara let out a sigh as they passed her old apartments, destroyed and seemingly abandoned. She clutched her mother's pendant around her neck, realizing too late that she should have left it for safekeeping. Something ominous followed her that night, licking at her heels and brushing against the skin of her face and neck. She started feeling it as soon as they left the cave, and it came closer and closer with every step she took.
These rooftops had once seemed so familiar and small with Blue, but now they rose above her line of sight, constricting and oppressive. How could they know if someone watched them from the rooftops? What if there were guards right across the alley? There was absolutely no guarantee that they weren't walking into a trap or an ambush.
"Katara," Aang whispered insistently, and she started, realizing that she'd been frozen, peering into the darkness across the street. Aang raised his eyebrows in concern, and she waved him off, striding after Iroh quickly. She knew why it felt so wrong tonight, compared to all the other nights she'd walked alone in Caldera. Before, she always knew who it was, looking out at her from the shadows. Those black, hollow eyes and that leering mask that had once scared her had changed into her wary guardian, her lying enlightener.
Blue did not walk in her shadow tonight. And she was afraid.
Iroh looked over his shoulder, his face calm. "It is not much farther from here," he murmured, just loud enough for everyone to hear. Katara felt a spike of anxiety and swallowed it down, moving forward with stealthy movements. They stole into an alley and ran single file, following Iroh to a door. Katara grasped the cool, scratchy surface of the wall she leaned against as Iroh pulled the door forward and open, sucking in a cool breeze from behind them and blowing On Ji and Katara's hair forward. A chilly, inky darkness crept from the door, threatening to choke her even as she stood in the dimly lit alley. Iroh took a small bundled cloth from his sleeve and unwrapped it, revealing a single block of wood with one end charred. He took Katara's hand, drawing a wavy, zigzagging line across her palm, ending it between her fourth and fifth fingers. "This is the way," he whispered, dropping her hand and taking Aang's, working quickly. "There will be guards around every corner if the dungeon is in use, as it is now for Sokka. You must be silent and quick. Be aware of where your friends are, and do not confuse them with your enemies." His eyes flickered to Katara's. "Once you enter the palace, you are but a small twig falling into the fire, swallowed whole, invisible. The palace operates separately from Caldera, from the world beyond it even. This is why you must be careful to return from this fire without catching flame yourself."
Aang stepped forward and bowed low. "Thank you, Iroh. No matter what happens tonight, it's been an honor and a pleasure." Iroh raised his eyebrows at the young man whose voice trembled, despite the formality of the words.
"Such eloquence, wasted on a foolish old man. It was nothing more than a visit from an old friend, Aang, but such a pleasant time should be repeated under more pleasant circumstances." He smiled kindly and patted Aang's shoulder, who straightened up and nodded, accepting Iroh's little bow. Katara felt her heart clench for the little boy who once would have sprung forward and hugged the old man, but times had changed, and they had changed with them.
On Ji bowed to Iroh as well, smiling bravely. "It was an honor to meet you, General Iroh, and I hope to see you again soon." He pinched her cheek softly and then faced Katara, who couldn't think of words for the life of her. There was an awkward moment when she stared straight into his face, her mouth open, struggling to convey at least a part of her heart through the tightness in her throat, with him looking back, searching her eyes. Iroh seemed to understand then, and hugged her.
"I hope you will one day be able to forgive my actions, Katara. I know you will find your brother, and that when all of this is done, Lani will be waiting for your return."
"Leave with her as soon as you can," Katara blurted out, the sudden feeling of dread too strong to ignore. She reached out and grasped his sleeve. "Iroh, don't wait until morning. Please." He studied her, then nodded once.
"I'll keep her safe." He pressed her hand in his and dropped it, turning to leave, having said everything there was to say. She bit her lip, not feeling as certain. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and her throat swelled, swallowing no longer giving relief.
"Wait," she said quickly, and went to hug him again, kissing his cheek, his scent comforting and familiar. "I forgive you. I'm sorry. I'll fix it, Iroh, I promise. I won't give up, I'll make it right." Strength returned to her voice with the last statement, and he heard it, smiling in approval as Aang and On Ji turned back to see what was taking so long.
As she strode away, towards the dark entryway with her two friends following behind her, she heard Iroh's soft, hopeful voice. "I do believe you will."
…
An upward slope. Level off. Up again, and back down.
His footsteps echoed in the stone alley, uncharacteristically loud for him. Usually, he was silent. It was all he knew, or at least that's what he'd thought. Turns out, he didn't even know who he was.
A bright flash- a burst of color, orange and gold and black hair, soft white fingertips, a thin smiling mouth. He grabbed his head and lurched sideways, into the wall, his shoulder hitting it roughly enough to tear the fabric of his shirt. His life was a series of consciousness and unknown stretches of time, of knowing one minute where he was and then waking up somewhere different. This wall- this tunnel. He couldn't remember how he found it, how he knew it was there. Only that it led to something he needed to remember. He'd never worried about memories, in the beginning. The only thing that had mattered was the present, how to heal, how to stay hidden from that nagging suspicion that something was after him.
He had awoken in the Earth Kingdom, in the outskirts of a town near Lake Laogi. He knew exactly where he was, but nothing was familiar to him- it was as if everything he knew had been memorized out of books, and his personal experience with the world had just started. It was impossible to come into life knowing all, and he wondered at first if he was a spirit. But spirits didn't bleed. They didn't dream, and they didn't crawl when their feet were too blistered to walk anymore.
He'd wandered, a ghost. Time meant nothing until he found the mask.
It had been during the night, when he'd first made it to Lake Laogi. He'd thought that maybe he could find shelter and rest there, but he was wrong. The whole lake was drained, nothing but a cavernous hole in the ground with a huge pile of rubble in the center. That was the night his paranoia had been validated, when the men with the strange metal hands swarmed the lake, silent and terrifying. He'd crawled between two slabs of rock and found himself in a little cave, where the ruins had buckled together and stayed, and crouched there as he listened to them search. A small pocket of moonlight shone through a crack in the ceiling. Someone ran over his hiding spot, blocking out the light, but when it returned a moment later, it glinted off something to his left.
A mask, leering out at him as he pulled it from under a stone. Something had tugged inside him, and he'd known instantly that there was a reason he'd wandered to this place. He pressed it to his face, and flashed backwards into a dizzying memory of fire and fighting, two swords gleaming in the light-
And then he'd found himself in a house, in a dark room with dull, moony metal on all four walls. Swords, knives, spears, all made from the same shimmering metal. It reminded him of the moon. For some reason, he had longed for moonlight, felt more comfortable wrapped in the dark blue and black mask than he had in his own pale skin. And that metal had been humming with captured moonlight. He hadn't been able to resist.
The Dao swords, he'd strapped to his back. Everything else, he'd rolled into one burlap sack and thrown over his shoulders, stealing out of the house, back to a nearby forest. He'd fallen asleep gazing at those weapons in the moonlight, and that night, he'd dreamed of a woman with eyes as blue as his mask, all fluid and warm and passionate. She was water, but out of her element, caught in a rocky, hot land where nothing flowed.
And when he'd woken up, he was there, in that world. That town, which seemed to haunt him with tantalizing bits of the past, little spurts of color and laughter like children playing find-me in the streets. He'd found her, in that same house as his dream, with those same fiery eyes. Katara.
His footsteps dragged, and he stopped walking, ducking into a crevice as his head buzzed angrily. She hadn't known him in his mask, and because the Blue Spirit was all he remembered, all he knew that he was, he couldn't remove it. Those days he'd lost, the sudden waking in another place- he knew it wasn't normal, wasn't right. He couldn't remember. But even though she hadn't known him, he'd seen her before in his dream, felt something stir in his chest when he found her. If it was the last thing he'd do, he chose to protect her.
Her mission was misguided and dangerous, but he'd known she wouldn't give up and he'd decided to help. How could he not, feeling that tie to her as he did? Maybe a part of him had hoped she'd find closure, but he'd never thought about what that would feel like until the day in the stream.
Katara had broken something inside him with that kiss. He'd heard his own voice, felt it creak and reverberate in his throat before he emitted it, and the dam had snapped, sending a tsunami of words, feelings, and visions over his head, sweeping him away from himself. That time, when he woke, he was once again in the city, his eyes clearer than they'd been in ages. He remembered a woman, dark hair, pale skin, her loving, comforting voice. He remembered gold, red velvet, flames. And he remembered a secret, the contents still hidden from him. He remembered there was a way to break it open, and then, he'd flashed and was here, in the tunnels, his body telling his mind where to go instead of the other way round.
He'd never cared about memories before, but now, it was all he could do to see the present reality through the veil his past had settled over him.
He stepped out again into the hall, hugging the wall as he moved down the corridor. Upwards slope, level out, steep drop back down. Curve to the right. Back up. A light grew at the end of the tunnel and he slowed, evening his breath and quieting his footsteps. This was all about the truth, no matter what it took to find it. If he had any chance of having Katara, he needed to tie up the loose ends of the past.
The ghost moved forward, into the light. There was a cry, a clang of metal, a sluicing sound, and the spatter of blood on stone. He swung his swords steadily, leaping to avoid fire, bending backwards as a spear hurtled towards him, kicking legs out from underneath bodies so he could roll over, stab, slice, battle them into silence. Before long, he was alone in the corridor, and the door those soldiers had all burst from was hanging open, the path to it littered with bodies.
And then he was looking through bars, breathing heavily through the cloth hiding his mouth, his eyes wide with shock. A man hung from his wrists, his tan skin littered with dark bruises and new lashes. A man with his dark musky brown hair tied back in a knot, his face downturned, his toes barely touching the ground. He didn't stir at the noise, and it was only by the gentle rise and fall of his skinny chest that the ghost knew he was alive at all.
He reached through the bars and his fingertips grazed the man's arm. He jolted and gasped, his head shooting up, his eyes bloodshot and swollen, looking around in a disoriented way. "Who's there?" he slurred, and his bleary gaze focused for a moment on the ghost, who stepped closer, studying his features. He felt his heart leap into his throat. This man had her eyes.
A vision split open his head and he slammed to his knees, gripping his forehead. This man, younger- not a man, a boy- snow, deep frozen snow everywhere, and a painted face- fangs, wolf eyes, grey blue white-
He surfaced for a moment, smelled the blood and sweat in the small room, and his stomach lurched. He unsheathed his swords and dragged them across the metal, creating only a small scratch in the surface. He has her eyes. He needs to get out. He has her eyes. Over and over again, the ghost felt his blades bouncing off of steel.
A little deeper. A little quicker. He has her eyes.
He heard something, a murmur of voices, and realized the man was once more sagging in his chains. Filth clung to his skin and for a moment, the ghost wondered at his actions. Where was he? Who was the man, and why did he need to get out? In one jarring realization, everything he knew fell away, and that flash was back. He fought it, fought the memories, struggled and fell backwards. On impact, he was gone, and his body crawled for him, hiding as he flew away in his head.
When he found himself, he was standing at the edge of a pond, the quiet, calm center of chaos, the eye of the storm. A ghost, at one with the darkness of night.
…
Katara could feel that something was wrong. They hadn't come across one guard in the tunnel yet, and judging by Iroh's map, they had just one more bend in the hall until they found the entrance to the dungeon. They should have been fighting by now. Maybe should have even been dead by now.
"Katara," Aang whispered, and she nodded, feeling for his body in the black hall, finding his sleeve and tugging it so they would stop moving. On Ji was silent, thankfully, but Katara could still feel her nearby, listening carefully.
"I know. We haven't met anyone. Do you think it's a trap?"
"Don't see how it could be," he murmured back, being careful to cover his mouth so the sound wouldn't carry too far, the stone walls catching his voice and making it echo anyways. "Maybe we're between shifts." She shook her head, but without an answer, they had no choice but to continue. She kept one hand on the wall, keeping her elbow locked so she was always a good couple feet away from the wall. The ground was softer and quieter in the middle of the hall, from centuries of feet wearing down the stone. She felt Aang close behind her, following her steps exactly, and some of her anxiety faded away. No matter what, she wasn't alone in this. He could help with whatever was waiting for them, and even if it was death that they were walking towards, she knew she'd be able to at least save him and On Ji.
She took a moment to pray that Sokka was alive. Then, she felt the wall begin to curve towards the right, and her heart plunged. Aang sensed the change and tensed, and she wished she'd told him she loved him before they'd gone into the tunnels. It was too late now, but hopefully he knew.
Suddenly, Katara felt something wet and slick under her fingertips instead of the rough texture of stone. She pulled her hand away with a little gasp, and Aang snapped a flame to life between his fingers, holding it over her shoulder. Her fingers were dark and dripping. "That's… that's blood," he breathed, and Katara could stand the darkness no longer.
"Aang," she started, her breath squeezing out of her, wondering whose life she's dipped her fingers into, whose death she now wore. He understood, and she stepped forward as two flames erupted in his palms and illuminated the scene before them. On Ji let out a strangled cry, and Katara couldn't blame her.
There were bodies everywhere.
…
Iroh patted the sweat from his forehead and the crevices along his nose before going behind the cave. It looked abandoned, but he couldn't be sure no one had been to look in the hills since he'd taken the younger ones to the tunnel entrance. He moved efficiently and quietly through the weeds and tall grasses, finally making it to the little thatch of woods. He counted the trees as he walked through them, getting to the eleventh before he rapped smartly on the trunk and looked up. Leaves rustled, and Lani poked her face out from behind a branch, her forehead creased. She smiled when she recognized him, and he reached up to catch her as the little girl swung herself down from her hiding spot.
"That was quick," she said sleepily, rubbing her eyes, and he chuckled, pulling a twig out of her hair.
"It must have felt like it to you, little one. How did you manage to fall asleep without literally falling out of your tree?" he teased, eliciting a giggle from his young charge as she slipped her hand into his and followed him out of the woods.
"I balance real well," she explained, "so I knew if I started slipping I'd wake up." She looked up at him, yawning, and he was reminded suddenly of his son, Lu Ten, waking him in the mornings for a training session before breakfast. Lu Ten had never known his mother, who died in childbirth, and so Iroh had tried to be everything for him. He knew the burden Katara must feel.
"Very clever of you. Plans have changed a little bit, Lani," he told her frankly, knowing children digested news best when they were told simple truths. "Your mother wants you to be safe as soon as possible, which means that we need to leave now. Do you have your things?"
Lani shrugged, seeming too tired to care. "Yes, except my slingshot. It's by the fire, can I get it?" she asked, and he nodded, waiting for her to return. The old man had his pack already strapped to his back, and hers on top until she felt awake enough to carry it, and without another word, they set off towards the port. They stayed on the outskirts of the city, stopping only once to get bread and cheese before Iroh purchased two cheap boat tickets and quickly got them settled on a passenger ship to the Earth Kingdom. He'd take her to Kyoshi, wait with Suki and the baby for Katara's word.
Iroh didn't allow himself to wonder if the word would come at all. He'd given her all that she absolutely needed, yet even as he thought those words, a small, malevolent voice in the back of his mind called out to him. The secret, it chanted, the secret, old fool. Who will carry it when you are dead and gone? Ursa knew, but she'd never tell another soul. Zuko had known, but there was no evidence suggesting he still remembered, wherever he was. And what if the information he withheld could really help Katara?
But no, he had to remember, it was no longer his secret to tell. Just his to keep.
The only snag was Azula. If she knew, if she had really ripped it from Zuko or her mother, then there was no telling what might happen.
"Uncle Iroh?" He blinked, suddenly realizing that he'd been off with the spirits for too long, leaving his young charge unattended. Lani looked up at him with her large, innocent eyes, and he found himself smiling back warmly at her. "Can I go up top?" she asked, and he glanced around the grimy dormitory they sat in, taking in the dim torches and the leaky pipes above their heads.
"I am sorry, but perhaps it would be better to stay out of sight for a while. Perhaps when we're farther out, we can both go up." The more inconspicuous they were, the better. He knew no one was looking for them- yet- but it was safer to keep to themselves. Lani nodded, pouting for a moment before she pulled out her slingshot and rummaged for things to shoot. Iroh watched in polite interest as she set up three paper dolls at the end of her cot and began pitching little blue berries at them.
"You're good at that," he commented when she'd felled all three dolls with three quick shots. "Who taught you that?"
"My friend Blue," Lani answered, fiddling with the band on her toy, tightening it and plucking to test the resistance. "He showed me how to aim and how to decide how far I pull back, and then we practiced on birds. He's really good at- oh!" she gasped, her cheeks flushing, and she covered her mouth. "Wasn't supposed to talk about him," she whispered to herself, and glanced up at Iroh, who was confused but intrigued.
"Why not?" he asked. Lani shrugged and pushed her hair behind her ears.
"Mama said not to, because she didn't want to worry anyone. I dunno why they would worry though. He's nice. He doesn't hurt us." Iroh thought back to a friend Katara might have mentioned, but couldn't think of anyone. Perhaps this Blue was an imaginary friend, one that Katara didn't want Lani to get too involved with in her head. "Please don't tell her I told you about Blue. She might get mad, 'cause she 'spifically said not to."
"I won't," he assured her, then cocked his head to one side. "But may I ask just one question?" She nodded, and he proceeded. "Why do you call him Blue? Surely that's not his name."
Lani nodded. "It is. He told me so- well, he didn't tell me, but he doesn't talk, so that's why he wrote it. That's what Mama calls him." Iroh raised his eyebrows. So Katara talked to Blue, too?
"How interesting. A man named Blue, who no one but you have met, and who doesn't speak. I wonder why she calls him that?" Lani smiled mischievously.
"It's 'cause his face. He wears a face that's all blue and white so you can't see his eyes, and he just glares at you, like this." Lani demonstrated, baring her teeth at Iroh, her eyebrows pulled down and her lips raised in a fierce snarl. She spoke through her leer, her voice roughened. "It looks scary, but he's nice. He saved me and Mama a bunch of times, and once I saw him kiss her forehead when he thought I was asleep. Well, maybe not kiss- he bumped her, with his face." Finished with her little confession, the girl sat back on her heels and waited for Iroh to say something. She lapsed back into her regular expression and turned away when Iroh didn't react. When she got up to walk the corridor between cots, he remained perfectly still, so that none of the newly splintered glass inside him could pierce through his skin and reveal itself.
"So if nothing else, he remembered the Blue Spirit," he mused quietly, and a sad smile spread across the general's face, alone on a small ship headed away from the truth he'd just learned, save for a little girl who didn't know what she'd just given him. Of course, he thought. Of course he would find a way to come back and protect Katara, even if he didn't know who she was. Iroh wondered for a moment if he should write to Katara, borrow postage and a hawk from one of the crew members and tell her. But something told him to wait, to have faith in that shadowy truth, dancing on the edge of its revealing. Sometimes when the heart knew, the mind lagged behind and needed to catch up in its own time.
Iroh bowed his head and sent his prayers back to the land they'd just left. "Please remember, nephew. It is the only way to save her, yourself, and what is left of this broken world."
"Please. Remember."
Hope you enjoyed, please review! I'm putting myself on a schedule so maybe my updates will be more regular. Thanks for your patience!