Avatar, The Last Airbender: The Rise of Kyoshi

by F. C. Yee

  Kyoshi nearly choked on her surprise. He was offering a taste of the world that only an exalted few got to sample. To be a companion of the Avatar, even for a moment, was an honor beyond reckoning.

  Flying into the sunset, huddled close to Yun, the wind in their hair—if Aoma and the other villagers were jealous of her before, they’d go foaming-mad with envy now. “What kind of trip is this?” she said, unconsciously lowering herself to his volume. “Where is this taking place?”

  “The Eastern Sea, near the South Pole,” he said. “I’m signing a new treaty with Tagaka.”

  Well, so much for fantasy. Kyoshi knocked Yun’s hands off her shoulders and sat back on her knees properly. The motion felt like it helped drain the heat out of her face.

  “The Fifth Nation?” she said. “You’re going to sit at a table with the Fifth Nation? And you want me to come with you?” What was she going to do surrounded by a band of bloodthirsty pirates that was bigger than most Earth Kingdom provincial militias? Sweep up their . . . cutlasses?

  “I know how much you hate outlaws,” Yun said. “I thought you might appreciate seeing a victory over them up close. It’s only political, but still.”

  Kyoshi puffed her cheeks in frustration. “Yun, I am basically your nanny,” she said. “You need Rangi for this mission. Better yet, you need the Fire Lord’s entire personal legion.”

  “Rangi’s coming. But I want you as well. You won’t be there to fight if things go wrong.” He stared at his own feet. “You’ll just stand around and watch me as things go right.”

  “For the love of—why?”

  “Perspective,” he said. “I need your perspective.”

  He pulled out a Pai Sho tile he’d nicked from the set she’d put away and squinted at it like a jeweler in the light.

  “Is it sad that I want a regular person there?” he said. “Someone who’ll be scared and impressed and overwhelmed just like me, and not another professional Avatar monitor? That afterward I want you to tell me I’m as good as Yangchen or Salai, regardless of whether or not that’s true?”

  He laughed bitterly. “I know it sounds stupid. But I think I need the presence of someone who cares about me first and history second. I want you to be proud of me, Yun, not satisfied with the performance of the Avatar.”

  Kyoshi didn’t know what to do. This idea sounded mind-numbingly dangerous. She wasn’t equipped to follow the Avatar into politics or battle, not like the great companions of past generations.

  Her stomach wound into a knot as she thought of the secret between her and Kelsang. They wouldn’t get the time they needed to figure that matter out. The world demanded an Avatar or else.

  “It’ll be safer than it sounds,” Yun said. “Oddly enough, most daofei gangs hold quite a bit of respect for the Avatar. Either they’re superstitious about the Avatar’s spiritual powers or intimidated by someone who can drop all four elements on their heads at once.”

  He tried to sound lighthearted, but he looked more and more pained the longer she kept him waiting in silence.

  Then again, was it so dire of a choice? Jianzhu would never risk Yun’s life. And she had a hard time believing Yun would risk hers. Really, the situation wasn’t as grand or complicated as she made it out to be. Avatar business and the fate of the Earth Kingdom was for other people and other times. Right now, Kyoshi’s friend was depending on her. She’d be there for him.

  “I’ll come,” she said. “Someone has to clean up whatever mess you make.”

  Yun shuddered with relief. He caught her fingers and brought them gently to his cheek, nuzzling into them as if they were ice for a fever. “Thank you,” he said.

  Kyoshi flushed all the way down to her toes. She reminded herself that his casual tendency to be close to her, to share touches, was just part of his personality. She’d caught glimpses and heard stories from the staff that confirmed it. One time he’d kissed the hand of the princess of Omashu for a second longer than normal and scored an entire new trade agreement as a result.

  It had taken her a very, very long time after starting at the house to convince herself she was not in love with Yun. Moments like this threatened to undo all of her hard work. She let herself plunge under the surface and enjoy being washed over by the simple contact.

  Yun reluctantly put her hand down. “Three . . .” he said, cocking his ear at the ceramic-tiled floor with a smile. “Two . . . One . . .”

  Rangi slid the door open with a sharp click.

  “Avatar.” She bowed deeply and solemnly to Yun. Then she turned to Kyoshi. “You’ve barely made any progress! Look at this mess!”

  “We were waiting for you,” Yun said. “We decided to burn everything. You can start with those hideous silk robes in the corner. As your Avatar, I command you to light ’em up. Right now.”

  Rangi rolled her eyes. “Yes, and set the entire mansion on fire.” She always tried as hard as she could to remain dignified in front of Yun, but she cracked on occasion. And it was usually during the times when the three of them, the youngest people in the complex, were alone together.

  “Exactly,” Yun said cheerily. “Burn it all to the ground. Reduce it back to nature. We’ll achieve pure states of mind.”

  “You would start whining the moment you had to bathe with cold water,” Kyoshi said to him.

  “There’s a solution for that,” Yun said. “Everyone would go to the river, strip down naked, grab the nearest Firebender, and—pthah!”

  A decorative pillow hit him in the face. Kyoshi’s eyes went wide in disbelief.

  Rangi looked utterly horrified at what she’d done. She’d attacked the Avatar. She stared at her hands like they were covered in blood. A traitor’s eternal punishment awaited her in the afterlife.

  Yun burst out into laughter.

  Kyoshi followed, her sides shaking until they hurt. Rangi tried not to succumb, clamping her hand over her mouth, but despite her best efforts, little giggles and snorts leaked through her fingers. An older member of the staff walked past, frowning at the trio through the open door. Which set them off further.

  Kyoshi looked at Yun and Rangi’s beautiful, unguarded faces, freed from the weight of their duties if only for a moment. Her friends. She thought of how unlikely it was that she’d found them.

  This. This is what I need to protect.

  Yun defended the world, and Rangi defended him, but as far as Kyoshi was concerned, her own sacred ground was marked by the limits where her friends stood. This is what I need to keep safe above all else.

  The sudden clarity of her realization caused her mirth to evaporate. She maintained a rictus grin so the others wouldn’t notice her change in mood. Her fist tightened around nothing.

  And the spirits help anyone who would take this from me.

  THE ICEBERG

  Kyoshi’s nightmare smelled like wet bison.

  It was raining, and bales of cargo wrapped in burlap splashed in the mud around her as if they’d fallen from great heights, part of the storm. It no longer mattered what was in them.

  A flash of lightning revealed hooded figures looming over her. Their faces were obscured by masks of running water.

  I hate you, Kyoshi screamed. I’ll hate you until I die. I’ll never forgive you.

  Two hands clasped each other. A transaction was struck, one that would be violated the instant it became an inconvenience to uphold. Something wet and lifeless hit her in the shins, papers sealed in oilcloth.

  “Kyoshi!”

  She woke up with a start and nearly pitched over the side of Pengpeng’s saddle. She caught herself on the rail, the sanded edge pressing into her gut, and stared at the roiling blue beneath them. It was a long way down to the ocean.

  It wasn’t rain on her face but sweat. She saw a droplet fall off her chin and plummet into nothingness before someone grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her back. She fell on top of Yun and Rangi both, squashing the wind out of them.

  “Don’t scare us like that!” Yun shouted i
n her ear.

  “What happened?” Kelsang said, trying to shift around in the driver’s seat without disturbing the reins. His legs straddled Pengpeng’s gigantic neck, making it difficult for him to see behind himself.

  “Nothing, Master Kelsang,” Rangi grumbled. “Kyoshi had a bad dream is all.”

  Kelsang looked skeptical but kept flying straight ahead. “Well okay then, but be careful, and no roughhousing. We don’t want anyone getting hurt before we get there. Jianzhu would have my head on a platter.”

  He gave Kyoshi an extra glance of worry. He’d been caught off guard by Yun’s sudden mission, and her agreeing to tag along had amplified the strain. This treaty signing was too important to cast doubt on Yun’s Avatarhood now. Until it was over, Kelsang would have to help her shoulder the burden of their secret, their lie by omission.

  Below them on the water’s surface, trailing only slightly behind, was the ship bearing Yun’s earthbending master, as well as Hei-Ran and the small contingent of armed guards. Aided by the occasional boost of wind that Kelsang generated with a whirl of his arms, the grand junk kept pace with Pengpeng, its battened sails billowing and full. Kelsang’s bison was dry and well-groomed for the occasion, her white fur as fluffy as a cloud underneath her fancier saddle, but the stiff salt breeze still carried a hint of beastly odor.

  That must have been what I smelled in my dream. It had been a very long time since Kelsang had taken her for a ride, and the unfamiliar environment rattled her sleeping mind. The titanic, six-legged animal stretched its jaws wide and yawned as if to agree with her.

  And speaking of dressing up, Jianzhu had given Kyoshi an outfit so far beyond her station that she’d almost broken out in hives when she saw it. She’d thought the pale green silk blouse and leggings would have been enough finery, but then the wardrobe attendants brought in two different pleated skirts, a shoulder-length wraparound jacket, and a wide sash with such exquisite stitching that it should have been mounted on a wall rather than tied around her waist.

  The other servants had to help her into the clothing. She didn’t miss the looks they shared behind her back. That Kyoshi had abused the master’s favoritism—again.

  But once the pieces were assembled, they melded to her body like she’d been born to wear them. Each layer slid over the next with ease, granting her full mobility. She didn’t ask anyone where the clothes that fit her so well came from, not wanting to hear a snippy answer like Oh, Jianzhu ripped them off the corpse of some fallen giant he defeated.

  And the serious nature of the task ahead made itself clear as she finished dressing. The inside of the jacket was lined with finely woven chainmail. Not thick enough to stop a spearpoint with a person’s entire weight behind it, but strong enough to absorb a dart or the slash of a hidden knife. The weight of the metal links on her shoulders said to expect trouble.

  “Why are the four of us up here and not down there?” Kyoshi said, pointing at the boat, where more preparations were undoubtedly being made.

  “I insisted,” Yun said. “Sifu wasn’t happy about it, but I told him I needed time by myself.”

  “To go over the plan?”

  Yun looked off into the distance. “Sure.”

  He’d been acting strange recently. But then again, he was a new Avatar about to enact a decree in one of the most hostile settings imaginable. Yun might have had all the talent and the best teachers in the world, but he was still diving into the abyss headlong.

  “Your master has good reason for his reluctance,” Kelsang said to him. “At one point it was somewhat of a tradition for the Avatar to travel extensively with his or her friends, without the supervision of elders. But Hei-Ran, Jianzhu, and I . . . the three of us weren’t the positive influences on Kuruk that we were supposed to be. Jianzhu views that period of our youth as a great personal failing of his.”

  “Sounds like a failing of Kuruk’s instead,” Kyoshi muttered.

  “Don’t criticize Yun’s past life,” Rangi said, whacking her shoulder with a mittened hand. “The Avatars tread paths of great destiny. Every action they take is meaningful.”

  They meaningfully passed another three dull, meaningful hours in southward flight. It got colder, much colder. They pulled on parkas and bundled themselves in quilts as they swooped over otter penguins wriggling atop ever-growing chunks of floating ice. The cry of antarctic birds could be heard on the wind.

  “We’re here,” Kelsang said. He was the only one who hadn’t put on extra layers; it was theorized around the mansion that Airbenders were simply immune to the weather. “Hold on for the descent.”

  Their target was an iceberg almost as big as Yokoya itself. The blue crag rose into the air as high as the hills of their earthbound village. A small flat shelf ringed the formation, presumably giving them a place to set up camp. Most of the far side was obscured by the peak, but as they flew lower Kyoshi caught a glimpse of felt tents dotting the opposite shoreline. The Fifth Nation delegation.

  “I don’t see their fleet,” Rangi said.

  “Part of the terms were that the negotiating grounds be even,” Yun said. “For her that meant no warships. For us that meant no ground.”

  The compromise didn’t feel even. The vast iceberg was one of many, drifting in an ocean cold enough to kill in minutes. A dusting of fresh snow gave every surface flat enough to stand on a coat of alien whiteness.

  Kyoshi knew that though the Southern Water Tribe had long since disowned Tagaka’s entire family tree, she still came from a line of Waterbenders. If there was ever a location to challenge an Earth Avatar, it was here.

  Kelsang landed Pengpeng on the frozen beach and hopped down first. Then he helped the others off the huge bison, generating a small bubble of air to cushion their fall. The little gesture stirred unease in Kyoshi’s heart, the playful bounce like cracking jokes before a funeral.

  They watched Jianzhu’s ship come in. It was too large and deep-keeled to run aground, and there wasn’t a natural harbor formation in the ice, so the crew dropped anchor and lowered themselves into longboats, making the final sliver of the journey in the smaller craft. One of them reached the shore much faster than the others.

  Jianzhu stepped out of the lead boat, surveying the landing site while straightening his furs, his eyes narrowed and nostrils flared as if any potential treachery might have a giveaway smell to it. Hei-Ran followed, treating the water carefully, as she was decked out in her full panoply of battle armor. The third person on the longboat was less familiar to Kyoshi.

  “Sifu Amak,” Yun said, bowing to the man.

  Master Amak was a strange, shadowy presence around the compound. Ostensibly, he was a Waterbender from the north who was patiently waiting his turn to teach the Avatar. But questions about his past produced inconsistent answers. There was gossip around the staff that the lanky, grim-faced Water Tribesman had spent the last ten years far from his home, in the employ of a lesser prince in Ba Sing Se who’d suddenly gone from eleventh in the line of succession to the fourth. Amak’s silent nature and the web of scars running around his arms and neck seemed like a warning not to inquire further.

  And yet the Avatar had regular training sessions with him, though Yun had told Kyoshi outright that he couldn’t waterbend yet and wasn’t expected to. He would emerge from the practice grounds, bloodied and mussed but with his smile blazing from new knowledge.

  “He’s my favorite teacher other than Sifu,” Yun had said once. “He’s the only one who cares more about function than form.”

  There must have been strategy at work with Amak’s attendance. Instead of the blue tunic he wore around the complex, they’d dressed him in a set of wide-sleeved robes, dark green in Earth Kingdom style, and a conical hat that shaded his face. His proud wolftail haircut had been shaved off, and he’d taken out his bone piercings.

  Amak took out a small medicine vial with a nozzle built into the top. He tilted his head back and let the liquid contents drip directly into his eyes. “Concentrated spiders
nake extract,” Yun whispered to Kyoshi. “It’s a secret formula and hideously expensive.”

  Amak caught Kyoshi staring at him and spoke to her for the first time ever.

  “Other than Tagaka herself, there are to be no Waterbenders from either side at this negotiation,” he said in a voice so high-pitched and musical it nearly startled her out of her boots. “So . . .”

  He pressed a gloved finger to his lips and winked at her. The iris of his open eye shifted from pale blue to a halfway green the color of warmer coastal waters.

  Kyoshi tried to shake the fuzz out of her head. She didn’t belong here, so far from the earth, with dangerous people who wore disguises like spirits and treated life-and-death situations as games to be won. Crossing into the world of the Avatar had been exciting back when she took her first steps inside the mansion. Now the slightest wrong footing could destroy the fates of hundreds, maybe thousands. After Yun told her last night about the mass kidnappings along the coast, she hadn’t been able to sleep.

  More boats full of armed men landed ashore. They lined up to the left and right, spears at the ready, the tassels of their helmets waving in the frigid breeze. The intent must have been to look strong and organized in front of the pirate queen.

  “She approaches,” Kelsang said.

  Tagaka chose a relatively undramatic entrance, appearing on the edge of the iceberg as a faraway dot flanked by two others. She plodded along a path that ran around the icy slope like a mountain pass. She seemed to be in no hurry.

  “I guess everyone dying of old age would count as achieving peace,” Yun muttered.

  They had enough time to relax and then straighten back up once Tagaka reached them. Kyoshi stilled her face as much as possible and laid the corner of her eyes upon the Bloody Flail of the Eastern Sea.

  Contrary to her reputation, the leader of the Fifth Nation was a decidedly unremarkable middle-aged woman. Underneath her plain hide clothing she had a laborer’s build, and her hair loops played up her partial Water Tribe ancestry. Kyoshi looked for eyes burning with hatred or a cruel sneer that promised unbound tortures, but Tagaka could have easily passed for one of the disinterested southern traders who occasionally visited Yokoya to unload fur scraps.