Avatar: The Book Of The Phoenix

Agni Kai

The Nomads came for them before the sun had fully cleared the eastern ridges.

Rough hands hauled Sokka and Suki upright from the post they'd been lashed to all night. The ropes had bitten into Sokka's wrists and left his shoulders stiff and aching. Suki's hair was matted with dust. Neither of them had slept more than a handful of minutes.

They were marched through the camp in silence. Warriors flanked them on both sides, swords and axes held ready, as if two bound prisoners might suddenly sprout wings and fly away. The smell of woodsmoke and cooking rice hung in the air.

Wolves barked somewhere beyond the tents. Ahead, the main courtyard opened like a stage.

A crowd had already gathered.

Fire Nomads packed the packed-earth square three and four deep. Some stood on crates. Children sat on shoulders. Every face was turned toward the center, where Rokkun waited.

He had stripped off his tunic. The morning light caught the hard planes of his chest and the old burn scars that mapped his ribs and collarbone. His hair hung loose and wild around his shoulders, no longer bound in the usual warrior's knot.

He looked like he had been carved out of the same black stone the Nomads used for their hearths—arrogant, immovable, already certain of the outcome.

Sokka leaned toward Suki as they were shoved to a halt.

"Nice of him to dress up," he muttered. "Nothing says 'friendly morning duel' like taking your shirt off and letting your hair down like you're about to star in a Fire Nation opera."

Suki didn't smile.

"You're crazy," she said under her breath. "That man is not playing. He's a warrior, Sokka. A real one. If he decides he wants you dead, he will kill you. This isn't one of your boomerang-and-a-prayer plans."

Sokka kept his eyes on Rokkun. The Nomad prince rolled his shoulders once, slow and showy, and the crowd murmured approval.

"I've got a plan," Sokka said. "It just hasn't introduced itself yet."

A stir at the far side of the courtyard. Guards parted. Aang, Katara, and Toph were brought forward under heavier escort. Suki was pushed into place beside them so the four of them formed a ragged little line of spectators.

Toph tilted her head, listening to the ground.

"Fancy seeing you here," she said, dry as old leather. "Let me guess. Zuko heard the Nomads rolled into Republic City and sent his favorite Kyoshi Warrior to politely ask them to leave. How's that working out?"

She paused, then added, just as sarcastically:

"Oh. And you and Sokka got yourselves captured. Shocking."

Suki's jaw tightened. She kept her voice low.

"We'll find a way out of this."

Rokkun's gaze swept across them all—lingering a moment on Sokka—then he smiled like a man who already owned the morning.

Katara's hands were clenched so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

"He's a strong firebender," she said, voice low and tight. "Look at those scars. You don't get marks like that unless you've walked out of more than one Agni Kai."

Aang stood a little closer to her, eyes never leaving the circle.

"We have to believe in Sokka," he said. "He's gotten us out of worse. He'll find a way."

Two Nomad warriors stepped into the ring carrying a battered wooden crate. They dumped its contents in front of Sokka: swords, spears, a pair of dao, a heavy mace, and—there, near the bottom—his own boomerang and the familiar whale-tooth club.