Bitter Alliance

Act IV

Chapter Two

--

Staring into the stained mirror, I run my hand over my flat stomach. Happiness eludes me. It is within my grasp, but it is only an illusion. The shadows of my life darken my spirit. Uncertainty plagues me. Though we have lived peacefully for the last seven years, I cannot repress the sense of foreboding that has lessened me.

Zuko assures me we are safe, but I cannot shake the feeling that something is changing.

“Something is changing,” he whispered against my cheek, caressing my stomach. “You will be ripe with child soon. My child. I’ll be here for you this time, Katara. I won’t abandon you. I’d die before sending you away again.

He is my anchor in the stormy sea of life. Kaya is the breeze that blows gently, and Iroh is the warmth. Though I have lost so much, I have gained things beyond measure. My life is full.

I should be content.

I should be happy.

But I cannot ignore the dangers. The orange hue that hovers in the sky is a constant reminder of the threats my daughter faces—threats I would gladly face myself if I could. How does one fight an enemy one cannot see?

As if affirming my fears, warning bells clang in the distance. Shouts rend the serene streets below. Running from the room, I call for Kaya and Iroh.

--

Hurrying toward the watchtower, I mentally prepare myself. The men of the village rally around me, and we make our way toward the western tower. Women and children evacuate toward the east, seeking shelter in the reconstructed cellars.

Instinct demands I find Katara and the children, but it commands that I stand and fight. I trust my wife. She protected Kaya and Iroh the first years of their lives. I trust her to do so now.

Men are yelling as I climb the steps to our defensive walls. Our walls are nothing like the once-grand walls of Ba Sing Se, but they are guarded, and the guards are loyal. There is no elemental distinction anymore—no Earth Kingdom versus Fire Nation. One cannot exist without the other. Conquest and war are meaningless.

Reaching the top of the wall, I run across. From my vantage point, flaming arrows have been drawn and pointed toward the ground. The guards I push my way through are silent. The ones who have their weapons drawn are ordering someone to leave. I shove the guards who are watching the display out of my way and climb the ladder to the top of the tower.

“Leave now, and you will not be harmed, old man!” Nolan shouts, holding his fist in the air, holding the volley of deadly weapons back.

There is no reply from below. I cannot see through the smoke of the fire arrows. “Who is it?” I ask sharply.

Nolan, one of the surviving members of my original command, does not flinch. His hand remains steady, and he glares through the smoke. “He says his name is Pathik. He says he has information for you and your wife.”

My spine stiffens. The name sounds familiar, but I cannot remember a face. “Stand down,” I command Nolan, who extinguishes the flames with an efficient Firebending maneuver.

Once the smoke clears, I am able to see a poised figure. The dark-skinned man sits with crossed-legs in a meditative pose. His belongings sit beside him. He is the man who helped Katara rescue us from the outer islands of the Fire Nation. He is the man who controlled the Sandbenders.

He is Mahari’s father.

The sense of dread is a cold embrace. “Open the gate,” I whisper harshly; hoping fate has not betrayed us all.

“Sir?” questions Nolan.

“Open the gate,” I repeat. “Let him in. Place guards with him at all times.”

“Yes sir!” Nolan snaps and relays my orders.

--

Worried whispers flow through the hidden basement. The fear is palpable. I can taste it rising in my throat. Instinct dictates that I run… that I hold my children close and carry them away from danger. There was a time I would have fought. Those times seem so long ago—a time where the world had hope.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Kaya sighs, the pitch of her voice otherworldly. “Everything is going to be all right.”

I kiss the top of her head and hold my hand out to Iroh, who turns his back in a pout.

“I should be up there fighting,” he growls aggressively.

“They’re not fighting,” Kaya states firmly. “They have opened the gate to let the dark-skinned man in.” Her gaze is focused on a vacant spot on the floor, her head cocked as if she is listening to someone.

“Kaya?” I shift, moving from a sitting position to my knees.

Iroh rolls his eyes. “Talkin’ to the spooks again.”

Kaya ignores Iroh’s insult. When they were younger, they were inseparable. Now they are sniping at one another, jealousy a thickened crust between them.

“What dark-skinned man, Kaya?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer me at first, seemingly lost in another world. “The man who gave you the shiny flag and a boat. He helped you rescue Daddy and the General. He helped you get home.”

“Pathik.” I close my eyes.

“I don’t know his name,” Kaya replies. There is a slight pause. “But I know why he’s here.”

I nod encouragingly, trying to get her to tell me.

Her blue gaze locks onto mine, and she touches my hair lovingly. “He wants to tell us the story.”

--

TBC

Author’s Notes: I know the chapter is short. It’s a transitional chapter before I get into the meaty part of the story. I do apologize for the wait, especially if you were expecting something longer. Anyway, all reviews are greatly appreciated. Some of you asked why I fast-forwarded the story. So, I would like to take the time to address that now. Simply put, I felt a five-year-old would have a difficult time saving the world. Aging Iroh and Kaya is vital to the story.