Bitter Alliance

Act III

Chapter Twelve

The light of the full moon shines like a lonely beckon in the sky, testament to the waning effects of Sozin’s comet. Though daylight surrounds me, the moon is still present. Will I live long enough to feel the unpolluted rays of the sun warm my face again? Will my children?

Questions with no answers taunt my dreams and waking moments. Three moons have passed since my arrival at the desert oasis. Three moons since I have looked upon the cherub faces of my son and daughter. Though the reunion with Katara and meeting Kaya and Iroh for the first time is cause to rejoice, the shadows of my past consume me with darkness. The others who were here when I arrived left two moons ago, released from their duties upon my arrival – two women and a burly man.

The oasis consists of a muddy spring that nurtures a radius of green grass around it. Various buildings surround it, forming a natural barrier against the corrosive element of sand. Only two of the buildings are suitable to inhabit. The others have crumbled walls or collapsed ceilings. To say the least, our quarters are cramped and there have been nights where I have wandered outside to sleep beneath the stars.

Our life is simple. Katara provides water and reluctantly teaches Kaya to bend water. Food is provided by monthly visits from our guardians, the Sandbenders. Katara’s brother, though addled, tends a flock of three sheep-goats. Toph, the Earthbender with the brusque attitude, repairs the two buildings we inhabit. Believe it or not, it is a full-time job.

Katara… She nurtures Kaya and Iroh with the grace and fluidic motion of her native element. She tries to heal me everyday, but my wounds are beyond her abilities. My memories remain lost.

Our exile is as close to paradise as I probably deserve. My daughter is precocious, and I am happily wrapped around her finger. Iroh is more cautious, his little sister’s fiercest defender.

My son looks just like me, his golden eyes reflecting the uncertainty of the events around him. I can see that he has many questions, but he does not ask them. His bending abilities are erratic and troublesome. He cannot control the flame from a candle. I have tried to counsel him regarding his technique, but he does not listen.

My daughter, who insists that my uncle’s spirit is beside me always, informs me that Uncle Iroh’s spirit is pleased that Agni saw fit to gift me with a son that is so similar to myself. Upon asking Kaya what she meant by that, I realized that I have always been a stubborn pupil. Jeong Jeong often reminded me that I was a hopeless cause. I cannot help but laugh at the irony. Though my memories dance in the shadows, I know it to be true.

“I don’t want to!” the shrill, angry voice of my daughter declares in the distance. She marches across the courtyard, her hands covering her ears. She is singing loudly, as if trying to drown noise out. I expect her brother to be taunting her again, but Iroh is nowhere to be found. “Daddy! Tell them no!”

“Tell who no, Kaya?” I reply. The wind whips around my daughter like a tempest, whether of her own volition or nature’s I am unsure. She is upset, tears and dirt marring the perfection of her soft skin. She hiccups as she draws closer. Her brother jumps from behind one of the buildings and follows her, concern etched in his young features. Katara sets the bucket of water down and hurries toward Kaya, but our daughter reaches me first.

Scooping her into my arms, I pet her soft, raven hair soothingly as she continues hiccupping. Her little hands clutch the hair at the back of my neck. Touch is an odd sensation, one I never took much stock in since my awakening. My daughter’s touch is feather light, a gift that brings tears to me. She is trembling.

--

The look in Zuko’s eyes betrays his concern. Three months have passed since our return, a sense of normalcy descending upon me as I continue lying to myself. Our lives are anything but normal. Threats loom on the horizon, threats I do not wish to address. The fear and anger in my daughter’s voice is indescribable. It besieges me, and panic claws its way to the surface of my fragile exterior.

Though her face is buried against her father’s neck I touch her cheek and encourage her to look up. “Kaya, what is it?” I ask, gingerly stroking the top of Iroh’s head as he hugs my legs.

My daughter sniffles and mumbles into her father’s collar. Words cannot express the constant fear and panic that festers like an infected wound. I am afraid for my children. I am afraid for Zuko, Toph, and Sokka. No matter how much I chastise myself for the errant thoughts that run rampant in my mind, I cannot stop them. I feel like a lone reed, floating along raging rapids.

Is this all there is?

It was so much simpler when Aang was alive. Sacrificing myself for the greater good was so much easier than this. I saw the look in Pathik’s eyes… the doubt over Mahari’s fate. How am I expected to sacrifice my daughter for the greater good? What of my son?

Those are the thoughts that keep me awake at night. They are the darkness that lurks in the shadows of my soul.

“They…” Kaya hiccups and sniffles. “They said that we have to leave before the Sandbenders… fall. They said we have to go to the underground city of Ba Sing Se.”

My spine stiffens. I accepted long ago that my daughter was the Avatar. Like Aang, the communion with the Spirit World always makes me nervous. The fact that Ozai died brings me no comfort. How does one battle a trapped spirit?

Kaya shudders in Zuko’s arms and points toward the east. A sandstorm rages in the distance, not an odd occurrence in these parts, but a fact of life. The oasis, by its very nature, has isolated us from the rest of the world. “Kaya.” My voice is calm, though my feelings are not. “We’ve been through sandstorms before. That one is several days away… if it is even heading our way.”

My little girl sobs, her crystalline eyes shining with tears. She stares at the cloud, horror flickering in them. “The sand is blue,” she says, her voice soft and exhausted.

Zuko and I stare at the horizon; the telltale sign of lightening streaking through the sand cloud is unmistakable.

“We have to leave,” I whisper shakily.

“I don’t understand,” Zuko answers. “How did the Sect of Kroni survive the crossing?”

I have no answer for him. I lift Iroh, grasp Zuko’s hand, and run toward our hut. Sokka limps after us, forgetting his herding “duties.” Toph exits the hut and wipes her brow. “We have to gather what we can. We’re leaving,” I announce.

Zuko stops. “Katara. It’s suicide,” he reasons.

“Staying here is suicide,” I retort.

“They are days away, possibly a week.” He tries to console me, but his words are meaningless. I am irrational.

“We have to leave,” I choke. Tears trickle down my cheeks, exposing my fear and weakness. I set Iroh down.

--

Her icy eyes are wild and panicked. It is a look I am all too familiar with, having seen it on the battlefield. It is the berserker’s gaze. The determination to protect our younglings is etched in every fiber of her being.

Setting down Kaya, I grasp Katara by her shoulders and shake her. “Think, Katara. The battle rages far away…”

“Are you suggesting we wait here to be slaughtered?” she hisses.

I pull her unyielding body against mine, my lips close to her ear. “Even if the battle is one by Kroni’s forces, it will take them days to cross the desert. Your fear has blinded you to common sense. We cannot run into the desert without provisions. You would be condemning us to a certain death. We must plan.” Only she can hear my whispers of desperation. If I do not get through to her now, I fear that I may never reach her.

“Kaya is scared. Iroh plays at bravery. Sokka is addled, and Toph is blind. We know what must be done.”

Katara rests her forehead on my shoulder. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

I touch her hair and close my eyes. “Never apologize for being afraid.”

“You’re so brave,” she states softly.

I am just as afraid as she is, but I don’t think she needs to hear it right now. We need to start packing. I glance at the sky, the orange tinge of the comet blocking the rays of the sun. I stare at the horizon northwest of us. Only within the underground cavern of Old Ba Sing Se will we find protection. But first, we must cross the desert.

Agni, have mercy on us all.

--

TBC of course.

Author’s Notes – Since my last update, I’ve had another surgery on my right hand. I apologize profusely for not letting everyone know. I am happy to report that my right hand is on the road to recovery. I still, unfortunately, have to have surgery on my left hand, which is going to have to wait. I find out Thursday if I have to have surgery on my left shoulder. Sheesh! I hit thirty-five and my warranty expired.

I have not abandoned my stories, even in the light of the season three spoilers that were recently released. Though I am a die-hard Zutaran, I respect all ships and applaud everyone who writes fan fiction. It is a wonderful creative endeavor and is meant to hone writing skills.

As always, thanks to all who have reviewed over time. The next chapter will be the last chapter to Act III. Then it is on to the final Act. God Bless.