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“Master Kelsang needs more time to heal,” Jianzhu said over his shoulder. “In the meanwhile, we can perform a spiritual exercise that might shed light on our situation. Think of it as a little ‘Earthbenders-only’ outing.” He adjusted Pengpeng’s course, the breeze blowing her tufts of fur in a new direction.
The group was the unusual combination of Jianzhu, Yun, and Kyoshi. They’d borrowed Kelsang’s bison, leaving Rangi and Hei-Ran behind. There should have been nothing wrong with the concept of three Earth Kingdom natives bonding over their shared nationality, but Kyoshi found it unnerving. Without Rangi or her mother present, it felt like they were sneaking away to do something illicit.
She glanced at the terrain below. By her best reckoning, they were somewhere near the Xishaan Mountains that ran along the southeastern edge of the continent, the same ones that the Earth King incorrectly considered a sufficient barrier to waterborne threats like t
he pirates of the Eastern Sea.
Kyoshi still wasn’t fully comfortable addressing Jianzhu in a casual manner, so it fell on Yun to ask what the point of this trip was. “Sifu,” he said cautiously, an idea forming in his head. “Is the reason we’re going to a remote area because we’re trying to invoke the Avatar State?”
His master scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“What’s the Avatar State?” Kyoshi whispered to Yun.
Jianzhu’s sharp ears intercepted her question. “It’s a tool,” he said. “And a defense mechanism. A higher state of being designed to empower the current Avatar with the skills and knowledge of all the past ones. It allows for the summoning of vast cosmic energies and nearly impossible feats of bending.”
That sounded definitive enough. Why wouldn’t they try it, after the failures they’d suffered?
“But if the Avatar can’t maintain conscious control over so much power, then their bending can go berserk, causing elemental destruction on a grand scale,” Jianzhu continued. “They’d turn into a human natural disaster. The first time Kuruk practiced entering the Avatar State, we went to a small, uninhabited atoll so we wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“What happened?” Yun said.
“Well, after his eyes stopped glowing and he came down from floating twenty feet in the air inside a sphere of water, the island wasn’t there anymore,” Jianzhu said. “The rest of us survived by the skin of our teeth. So, no, we’re not triggering the Avatar State. I shudder to think what would happen if an Earth Avatar started hurling landmasses left and right with abandon.”
He took them lower. The westward side of the mountainous ridge was dotted with empty mining settlements. Scapes of brown dust spread from the operating sites like an infection, eating into the treeline and displacing the natural vegetation. Kyoshi looked for signs that the land was growing back, but the scars were permanent. The wild grasses kept a strict cordon around the areas touched by the miners.
Jianzhu set Pengpeng down for a landing in the center of a mud-walled hamlet. Whoever originally earthbent the structures into shape had been so sloppy that it seemed intentional, as if to remind the occupants that they weren’t going to stay long. Kyoshi was surprised they didn’t cause any further collapses by jumping down from the bison.
“This is an important locus of Earthen spiritual energy,” Jianzhu said.
Yun dug his toe into the dust as he surveyed their surroundings. “It looks more like a wasteland.”
“It’s both. We’re here to commune with a particular spirit roused from its slumber by the devastation. I’m hoping one of you can help ease its suffering.”
“But talking with spirits is no guarantee,” Yun said. “I’ve read of past Avatars who’ve had trouble with it. And then there’s people like Master Kelsang who have been able to communicate with the spirits effortlessly at times.”
“I didn’t say the method was perfect,” Jianzhu snapped. “If it was, I’d have used it on you long ago.”
Yun frowned and bit back more questions. Kyoshi was glad that he shared her apprehension at the very least. The desolate town was eerie, the bones of a once-living thing.
But on the other hand, she was slightly comforted by the knowledge that it would all be over soon. She knew nothing about spirits. In her opinion, being spiritual simply meant acknowledging the power of forces you couldn’t see and coming to terms with the fact that you didn’t have control over every aspect of your life. The rituals of food and incense placed at sacred shrines were gestures to that worldview. Nothing more, nothing less.
The stories about strange translucent animals and talking plants might have been true, but they weren’t for her. The Avatar was the bridge between the human world and the Spirit World, and whatever test Jianzhu had in mind would settle the matter. Yun would glow with energy or some other final proof, and she would lie there inert, listening for sounds she couldn’t hear.
After leaving Pengpeng with some dried oats to chew, they walked up the slope of the mountain on a tiny path that ran alongside a gouged-out sluice canal. It was steep going, and Yun remembered there was a faster way to climb. “You know, I could make a lift and—”
“Don’t,” Jianzhu said.
Eventually, the incline revealed a large terrace carved into the mountain. It was bigger than the entire settlement below, and it had been constructed with more care. It was perfectly level, and empty postholes indicated it had once held some very heavy equipment.
“Go sit in the middle,” Jianzhu told them.
Kyoshi felt the same prickle on the back of her neck as she did when stepping onto the iceberg with Tagaka. It made little sense, seeing as how she was surrounded by her native element.
“Come on,” Yun said to her. “Let’s get this over with.” He seemed to have a better understanding of how this might escalate. She followed him to the center of the terrace.
“It’s not the solstice, but it is almost twilight,” Jianzhu said. “The time of day when spiritual activity is at its highest. I will guide you two in meditation. Yun, help her if she needs it.”
Kyoshi had never meditated before. She didn’t know which leg you folded over the other or how your hands were supposed to touch. Fists pressed together or thumb and forefinger?
