Chapter Text
Survivor, these words are for you alone. The eternal Kingdom has fallen, and the King with it. Our last gift you carry with you as you flee the shattered remains of these ruins. May your mind lead you safely into the unknown, may you be unnoticed by those who would shun your differences.
Hornet traced her claws along the lines of the Seal that covered the back of her head, the pattern impossible to see with her own eyes. She was only aware of its presence from witnessing the same mark on the cicada larva, Cloth.
Damn that Wyrm, the useless coward. His final gift, his last protection, relied on those who depended on him to turn their backs and flee, and with every departing bug their absence tore at the Seals guarding the kingdom. Hornet could only feel dread.
If her sire lived still the Seals would have an infinite Soul supply and the tears in the fabric would mend themselves, but now? The Seal was being shredded. The Soul cannibalized for protection of individual minds and forms, leaving all who remained in the kingdom vulnerable.
Hornet tried to calculate how many bugs had chosen to leave the kingdom, how much drain had already occurred to the Seals, but was only left with a plunging sensation to her stomach.
They needed to get back to Hallownest as soon as possible, lest they damn the surviving members of her Kingdoms to mindless destruction.
Her claws dug into the chitin of her forearms, reminding her of her sire’s other gift. The humans that looked upon her could not see her true face. It suddenly made sense that their perception of her as a human traveler was so widespread.
She wondered what they saw when they looked at her, what image the Seal on her was causing them to see. Between her claws, chitin, fur, and mask, it was hard to say. There was very little in similar between her and the fleshy appearance of a human. Whatever it was must be enough to not cause major suspicion.
She could feel the anger at her sire bubbling through her, fiery and ferocious like a dirtcarver mad with infection, to the point where it overcame her and she slammed her fist against the metal wall of the closet she had retreated to.
The sound rang out, loud and echoing down the hall and Hornet could hear someone yelp outside, footsteps echoing away as the vibrations through her webbing came back to her.
There was nothing she could do right now to change the past, no matter how she would like to sink her fangs into the Bastard that was behind most of her problems. But she needed to do something, to fight something, to be in motion, be productive.
Despite the front she tried to put up to her traveling companions, diplomacy did not come naturally to her. Hornet had worked hard to learn the skillset, and harder to enact it upon her kingdoms. But she was as much a Beast as she was a Wyrm, and neither species was preconceived towards being civilized. When she found herself unable to stay still after extended periods dealing with the smaller details of running a kingdom, she found herself in the same state she was in now; restless and wanting to fight.
Her smaller sibling seemed to be able to sense when this happened, and would challenge her to a spar, testing nail against needle, but unlike their first two fights, there was no desire to hurt one another. Instead, it became a test of skills, a way to practice fighting with a different goal in mind than survival.
Compared to Ghost, Hornet was aware that while she was the more skilled combatant, they were likely the stronger fighter. Their style was as blunt as a nail, only augmented by the few Nail Arts the masters of Hallownest had taught them and their own combative magic that they had mastered, so different from the refined Soul attacks Hollow had been taught to use. But they were persistent and untiring, small enough to sneak under their opponent’s guard and strike close.
They were a good challenge to tire herself out on.
They weren’t here.
Hornet pressed her claws to the Kings Brand seared into her shoulder, waiting until a cold buzz met her fingers, trying to summon the calmness that her siblings often portrayed.
She could almost see little Ghost patting their own brand reassuringly while Hollow simply rubbed at theirs, a firm pressure and comfort across the bond.
With a last squeeze she let go and gathered her needle close. It was time to release some stress the way she preferred to do.
Zuko had wanted to keep moving after the failure with the bounty hunter, but unfortunately his body had objected to the long night out and he had ended up crashing in his quarters as soon as they had gotten back.
Now, he groggily managed to push himself into some semblance of awake and functional, taking in the rocking of the ship and the sound of the engines thrumming below. Hopefully the Lieutenant was getting them back on track, heading north to head off the Avatar before he reached the protection of the Northern Water Tribe.
Zuko took his time putting himself together and dressing before finally making his way out of his quarters and heading towards the bridge.
Upon throwing the door open he was startled to notice that everyone, including the helmsman, appeared to be standing out on the balcony looking down at something occurring on the deck.
“Get back to your station,” he barked at the hapless helmsman, who startled badly before jumping to do his duty, “What’s going on here?”
The Lieutenant spared him a glance before nodding down to the deck, “See for yourself.”
Zuko pushed his way past his uncle to look out over the railing down below.
It was practically a murder scene. Straw and fabric were strewn about the deck as Hornet moved from one victim to the next, the sparring dummies falling apart at the seams as her weapon tore into them.
“… Do we know why she’s doing that?” Zuko asked, looking around only to receive a handful of shrugs from the crew.
“She’s been at it for a while,” Uncle said, stroking his beard, “It has been quite the spectacle.”
Down below, Hornet systematically destroyed another training dummy. Zuko winced at the methodical way she aimed for joints in the plated armor, almost all blows that would kill or seriously maim her opponents.
Lieutenant Jee cleared his throat, “Shouldn’t someone stop her?”
“Oh, probably,” Uncle said, “Reesu is about to burst into tears over the damage she’s caused.”
It was only then that Zuko noticed the quartermaster’s very carefully blank expression frow where he watched the destruction taking place down below.
A moment passed, and it was only after Zuko realized that everyone on the bridge was looking at him that he started.
“Right, I’ll go put a stop to this,” Zuko said, and turned around to exit the bridge, doing his best to ignore the nervous look the helmsman gave him as he left.
Upon reaching the deck the destruction did not look any better, but Zuko could hear the grunts of exertion as Hornet wheeled around, one hand flinging her weapon into the remains of a training dummy while the other gripped the wire attached to it, a flick of her wrist causing the weapon to sail back into her hand.
It was one of the most unusual weapons he had ever seen. The weapon itself was vaguely javelin-like, but the wire attached to it was made of a material Zuko didn’t recognize, light enough to billow out into the air as Hornet manipulated it but reflecting the light in a way that almost made it look like it was glowing.
It almost reminded Zuko of a dancer’s silk scarf, trailing out around and behind Hornet as she moved in a mesmerizing way. It was a wonder something so thin and light did not snap from the tensions placed on it.
Shaking himself from his stupor, Zuko raised his voice.
“What are you doing?”
“Training,” Hornet said, not even gracing him with a glance as she preceded to dismember the second-to-last dummy.
Zuko glowered at her, “You’re just destroying our dummies! My men need to train with them as well!”
They used to have targets too, for firebending practice. Reesu had yet to requisition more after Zuko’s last incident. He was staunchly refusing to feel hypocritical about this entire situation.
Hornet did finally shift away from her destruction, deftly placing her weapon back against her back and turning to face him.
“Please relay to the quartermaster that I am more than capable of repairing them. These training dummies will be returned in better condition than when I first received them.” She said, staring at him with her eerily blank mask.
Zuko didn’t even bother to hide his disbelief, tilting his head sideways to look around her and staring obviously at the destruction behind her.
Hornet considered him for a moment longer before nodding her head back at him.
“Peace princeling,” she said and Zuko felt himself rankle at being addressed that way, “I did not intend to cause concern amongst the crew. I simply wished to train. Unless one of the members is offering to spar and believes that they could keep up with me I will limit my training sessions to these dummies.”
There is something in the way Hornet seemed to be examining him that made Zuko feel distinctly uncomfortable, as if he was a scorpion-bee that had just fallen into a spider-bat’s web, with the web’s creator deciding whether or not it would be worth trying to eat him or cut him free. He can’t help but to wonder if Hornet had somehow been into his quarters and seen the dual dao.
Although even if she had seen the swords there’s no reason for her to think that they were functional rather than just decorations.
Zuko was likely overthinking everything.
“I doubt any of the soldiers would be willing to spar. They prefer the practice dummies,” and the crew’s medic had banned most blade-on-blade spars to lower the number of injuries caused by training accidents.
“A shame,” Hornet said evenly, but somehow looking disappointed despite her mask hiding any true expressions, “I would have enjoyed the challenge.”
Zuko didn’t have anything to say to that, and a moment later Hornet shifted away. “For now, I will endeavor to clean up the deck. Please inform the quartermaster I would like to requisition the use of the training dummies on a daily basis from here on out.”
Zuko snapped his mouth shut hard, just barely trapping in his retort that no one could possibly use those dummies now that they were dismembered and turned away before his temper got the better of him.
“Tell him yourself,” he said instead, “You still have to return them to him even if you’re planning on using them tomorrow.”
He retreated as fast as he could with his dignity and refused to look back despite the little amused chuckle Hornet let out.
Zuko swore it had to be some sort of magic. Every single dummy had been placed back into storage before lunch, looking like nothing had ever happened to them.
No, that wasn’t quite right. They looked better than when they had first been brought onto the ship three years ago, the supplier saying gruffly, ‘this is all we have to share with a ship of your size. The real navy folks need the new ones more than you do.”
Zuko cautiously examined the dummies, the quartermaster standing at the edge of the room with a frown on his face. It rankled him that Hornet was right.
“The stitching is near-invisible,” Reesu said as Zuko poked the seam between the shoulder and torso on the nearest dummy. If I didn’t know better, I’d never guess that they’d been in pieces a few hours ago.”
Ever so slightly, light glinted off what appeared to be the almost translucent threading that now held the dummy together. It reminded him of the wire traps Hornet had set up throughout the cargo hold back when she had first stowed away. It looked like it might be the same material, although what that material was Zuko wasn’t sure. He needed a closer look.
After a few more minutes of tugging and prodding at the new stitching Zuko pulled out his knife and carefully worked it under the thread. One hand braced the stuffed limb of the dummy while the other put force behind the seam, trying to split it. It took a surprising amount of force before the thread snapped, with an almost musical little plink.
Zuko made a grab for the end of the thread, but the moment his finger brushed against it, it let out a flash of light and disintegrated. Blinking the after image from his eyes, Zuko and Reesu were left staring at the dummy for the handful of heartbeats it stood together before falling apart, stuffing, fabric, and armor falling to the ground.
Zuko frowned. He had really been hoping to get a better idea as to what that material Hornet had been using was.
“Take care of this mess,” Zuko said, turning away from the quartermaster and trying to ignore the young man’s disappointed face as he stalked out of the storage room. He would get to the bottom of this mystery one way or another.
It became a regular thing. Every morning Zuko would wake up to see Hornet dismembering training dummies on the deck, only for them to mysteriously repaired by the time Zuko’s own training sessions with Uncle started mid-morning (Uncle always said that firebenders rise with the sun, but training would not start until after they had broken their fast. Zuko privately thought that Uncle just wanted to make sure he always got the food while it was still warm).
There was something about the movements Hornet would make, her weapon soaring through the air followed up by impressive feats of acrobatics. It reminded Zuko of the summers spent training with Master Piando, of how fluid the swordsman was with his weapon to the point where it was hard to see where the blade ended and the man began.
Zuko couldn’t practice like that – out on the deck where anyone might see his dual dao and make the connection between him and enemies of the Fire Nation. Of course, he wouldn’t let his sword skills grow dull, but he couldn’t exactly haul one of the training dummies into his quarters to practice.
Instead, he would run through katas at night, careful to be quiet between the changing shift of his crew, moving through the movements that might one day save his life, through the ones that already had.
But still, it would be nice to practice with a friendly spar instead of during life-or-death circumstances. He hadn’t been able to causally spar since those summers with Piando since his father had seen no reason for him to train with blades instead of bending when he was home.
“Concentrate, Prince Zuko,” Uncle called out when his flameburst careened wildly off the edge of the ship, his sparring partner dodging it only at the last second.
Zuko grit his teeth, cutting back on the snarl to focus on his bending. He didn’t need to think about strange weapons and the even stranger wielder on his ship, he needed to master the advanced sets so he could properly detain the Avatar the next time they faced off.
“Perhaps we should call it a day –”
“No!” Zuko said, cutting off his uncle, “We should continue.”
With a stabilizing breath, Zuko centered himself and pushed away any thoughts outside of his current training. Releasing his breath, he settled back into his starting position.
“I’m ready.”
Perhaps Zuko couldn’t stop thinking about it. in his defense, the ship was currently set on course towards the North Pole and would not stop to make port of another week. At this point they would be exceedingly lucky to cut the Avatar off before he reached his destination.
Still, there were maps to pour over, and other things to concentrate on. It was highly possible that the Avatar might try and visit the Northern Air Temple. Zuko needed to figure out if it was possible to route stopping there into the current travel plans.
It probably wouldn’t be feasible, with how much of the Northern Sea they still had to cover, but still. It might be worth checking.
The Northern Air Temple was decently close to the shore, and if he remembered correctly there was a small group of civilians holed up there who could be questioned for Avatar sightings – but if they had already missed the Avatar at the temple, he would likely reach the Northern Water Tribe before Zuko could catch up.
And if he managed to find a teacher and learn proper waterbending he would become so much harder to capture.
Zuko rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, attempting to fight of the headache he could feel starting to form. He jerked his hands away from his face when a hesitant knock came from outside of his quarters.
Sighing, Zuko sat up, stretching his back from where he had been hunched over his maps.
“Come in,” he called out. A moment later the door slid open and Reesu slipped in carrying one of the spare capes for some reason. Zuko frowned at it as the quartermaster made a hasty bow.
“Prince Zuko. I was doing inventory on the missing uniform cache items and I discovered something I think you should see.”
Interest piqued, Zuko stood up. “What is it?”
“It’s, well, this sir,” Reesu said, holding out the cape. Zuko blinked as the fabric was held up for examination, nothing obvious jumping out at him.
“What about it?”
The quartermaster shifted uncomfortably. “I ah, decided to investigate a bit more on how our newest crewmate was fixing the training dummies. Remember how I said that I thought the spare clothing was going missing briefly? It looks like she did something to it.”
Zuko snatched the red fabric out of the other man’s hands and held it up, examining it for any discernible evidence. After a few fruitless minutes, he tilted the cape towards the lantern on the wall. Slight movements caused light to ripple along the taunt section of the cape, revealing an unobtrusive pattern stitched into the fabric.
“What in the -?” Zuko started as his eyes traced over more of the pattern. There were shapes woven into it, alongside geometric patterns, but the style was unlike any art he had ever seen. It almost looked like the symbol of the Fire Nation, he noted absently, if the flame had only ever been described to the artist without them ever seeing it for themselves.
“Why?” Zuko finally managed to ask. The glinting thread wasn’t holding the cape together, it was a perfectly good cape. “How much of our supplies have this, this thread on it?”
“Almost everything that’s in storage, and I’ve noticed it on some of the clothing that goes into laundry. She’s been busy,” Reesu said, crossing his arms, unable to answer Zuko’s first question.
It was disconcerting. What purpose could the patterns be for? Surely it wasn’t just decorative. Zuko tilted the fabric again, watching the light reflect off the threading.
When Hornet had first joined the crew, she had claimed to be skilled with weaving.
But this wasn’t traditional weaving that he knew.
It did resemble some of the more fantastic designs Zuko had seen embroidered into his own clothes, as well as some of the other nobles around the palace and the capital. However, those designs were made out of golden thread usually, meant to be visible and ostentatious. Whatever material Hornet had used for the threading was distinctively not that.
What was the point of a secret pattern? It just didn’t make sense.
However, with physical proof that Hornet was up to something he had a reason to confront her. A good reason.
“I’ll be taking this from here,” Zuko said, startling the quartermaster before bundling the cape up and putting it under his arm, “Return to your regular duties, but let me know if any more clothing shows up like this.”
“Yes, prince Zuko,” Reesu said, coming to attention smartly for a moment before exiting the cabin, Zuko following barely a second later.
He had a crewmember to confront.
As was unfortunately becoming a pattern, Hornet was proving to be a very difficult person to find.
She wasn’t anywhere on deck, nor was she on top of the command tower, which she had been spotted multiple times ascending in the past. According to Lieutenant Jee, she had completed the tasks he had assigned to her for the day and had disappeared immediately after.
Several members of the crew claimed to have seen her going in different directions. Zuko ignored the looks they were shooting him for stomping around the ship with a spare cape; he had his reasons and their opinions did not matter.
It was only after exhausting every other option that Zuko found himself storming over to his Uncle’s quarters to ask if he had seen their wayward stowaway.
Which was how he ended up standing frozen in the doorway as a blank mask tilted slightly in his direction, teacup held delicately in black-gauntleted hands.
Zuko scowled, before coming fully into the cabin. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you,” he said, allowing some accusation to sneak into his voice.
“General Iroh was kind enough to invite me in for some tea,” Hornet said, her tone even as she placed the teacup back onto the low table next to a spread-out map that they had apparently been examining and rested her hand on the hilt of her weapon, “I would be remiss to deny his offer.”
“Would you like to join us, Prince Zuko?” Uncle asked, already reaching over to the teapot that was still warming over a tea candle. “It’s a lovely ginseng blend.”
Zuko shook his head moving towards the table.
“This is more important than tea,” he said holding out the cape.
He didn’t miss the way Hornet’s legs shifted under her as if she was prepared to spring up as Uncle’s voice cried out, “Nothing is more important than tea!”
Zuko ignored him and held the cape up, shaking it a bit. “What have you been doing to our clothes?”
Hornet’s head tilted ever so slightly and Zuko hated that it was covered in a mask. It was cowardly to hide one’s face like that.
“You are going to have to be more specific than that, princeling,” she said, “There is many things I have done to the clothing on this ship; the Lieutenant has tasked me with assisting with laundry.”
Frustrated at Hornet’s intentional obtuseness, Zuko threw the cape over the table, before falling to his knees beside her and jabbed a finger at the faintly glimmering stitching that now covered it.
“Recognize this?” he said, pointing viciously at it, “because I do. It’s the same material you used to fix the dummies, and the same material you used when you first stowed-away to make the traps in the cargo hold.”
“It is,” Hornet said, a statement, not a question.
Zuko blinked. He had expected a denial and was now thrown off.
“Well?” he finally managed to get out, “What is it?”
Hornet’s covered fingers brushed against the design woven into the cape, and Zuko barely restrained a flinch as the design briefly caught the light, shining out and visible in all of its intricacies for just a moment.
“It is a gift, princeling, freely given.”
“I don’t understand –” Zuko started but was interrupted by Uncle, who was giving him an odd look.
“Thank you for your gift, miss Hornet, but you did not need to give us anything more than that which you have already provided by being a member of the crew.”
Zuko shook his head, drawing Hornet’s attention back to him. “If you’re going out of your way to embroider something into spare clothes why use translucent thread? What’s the point of an invisible design?”
“Perhaps it is not the visual appeal that is important, but rather what it can do,” Hornet said, voice sounding almost smug as she raised a hand into the air.
“The material is no normal thread; it is soul-spun silk,” She pinched the air in front of her, the way the gauntlets covered her fingers making it look almost like she had claws. “It can be difficult to see when it is not active.”
Zuko barely withheld a gasp as the point of contact between Hornet’s fingers lit up with a bright white glow, painfully bright to look at. The light caused strange shadows to grow across Hornet’s mask, making her look sharper and foreign.
He didn’t miss the way Uncle’s eyes bulged out of his face as Hornet drew her fingers down, a glowing white strand of thread – no, silk – was left behind, drifting in the air.
“Of course, it can be used much the same as normal silk, woven into cloth or used for binding,” Hornet said, before suddenly flicking her fingers, making the strand snap out above them and at least tripling it in length before the glow disappeared. Zuko could barely see it through the afterimage, the silk only visible in the way Hornet seemed to wind it around her arm from elbow to palm.
“However, it is perfect for true Weaving,” Hornet said, emphasis placed heavily on the last word, and her hands started moving again, twisting the silk into a design suspended between her fingers like a more complicated version of croccocat’s cradle. “And the results are just the same in the end if it were Weaver-spun silk.”
Finished with the pattern she had made, Hornet held it up with one hand while the other brushed the cape on the table out of the way, revealing the map of the northern Earth Kingdom below. There was another flash of light and for a moment Zuko could see the full pattern emblazoned on the map before winking out.
“It’s dangerous to have so much flammable material around open flames, flameslinger,” Hornet said, lifting the teapot off its stand and holding the edge of the map above the tea candle flame, “There are many types of Seals a Weaver can make, and this one is my gift to you.”
Without further ado, Hornet lowered the map edge into the flame. Zuko made an aborted move to snatch the map away from her – there were only so many maps that hey currently had – when the map started glowing again, the pattern lighting up and visible as some sort of flame sigil.
The map did not catch on fire, no matter how the candle’s flame licked at its edge.
Zuko had seen magic tricks before. As a child he remembered a time before everything when wrong that they had gone to a festival, his mother taking him an Azula to see the street performance where a man had pulled flowers out of his hat and floated lanterns into the air. At the time he had been fascinated, wanting to recreate the tricks himself, at least until his father had shattered his beliefs by forcing the man to expose his tricks. Hidden compartments in the hat, wires and superheated air by discreet firebending to get the items to float.
There were no hidden wires here. No discreet firebending as far as he could tell. There had to be something, but for the life of him Zuko couldn’t figure out the trick.
“…How?” Zuko finally was willing to ask, watching as Hornet shifted the map in the flame, the sigil still glowing.
“The soul-silk forms a Seal, and as long as a Soul source is flowing thought it, it will not burn. But should the source disappear,” Hornet paused, and let go of the map, the sigil instantly fading and hungry flames curling and blackening the old paper as if fluttered to the table, “the Seal will no longer activate, and the paper will burn.”
Hornet reached down to the burning map, pressing a single finger to the paper. Immediately, the sigil – the Seal – started glowing again and the flames went out, leaving half a map sitting on the table.
Zuko ignored the thoughtful sound Uncle made and tried to catch Hornets gaze through the eyeholes in her mask, seeing something glittering in the deep recesses that made something in his own eyes water although that could just be the smoke from the burnt map.
“Teach me.”
The words slipped out of Zuko’s mouth before he could catch them.
Hornet did not say anything for a moment, just stared at him before slowly shaking her head.
“I do not believe I can.”
“Why not?”
“I would not be the right teacher for you.” Zuko felt the frustration rising in him, but Hornet raised her hand and paused his growing ire. “My methods would not be physically possible for you to replicate. You would require a teacher who understands the intricacies of designing Seals through different means. Before the Watcher went to Dream, he had some experience in working with spellcasters….”
Hornet trailed off, mumbling something about higher beings.
Zuko steadfastly did not look at Uncle. He did not want to know what the older man was thinking.
Hornet’s gaze snapped back to him. “I may not be able to teach you how to properly Weave, but if you wish I can share some of my people’s combat methods. Perhaps we could spar?” She waved her hand towards her weapon and Zuko’s gaze was drawn to its sharp point.
And oh, that was tempting. But dangerous too.
“What makes you think I can use a sword?”
“I presumed you would be firebending, unless you can use the pair of blades you so proudly display in your quarters. It would be interesting to see them in action.”
Well, that answered his earlier question. Hornet had been in his room at some point during her stay on the ship and had seen his dual dao.
Zuko bristled, ready to vehemently deny that the blades were anything other than decorations but before he could say it Uncle replied to Hornet instead, throwing an arm around Zuko’s shoulders and dragging him a bit closer.
“My nephew trained under the best swordsman in the Fire Nation, perhaps the world. I’m sure he would be delighted to practice; it has been too long since I’ve seen him train with his blades.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” Zuko said through gritted teeth, disentangling himself, “But I don’t need to practice with my dao when I should be working on mastering my advanced firebending sets.” He could feel Hornet’s sharp attention on him as he crossed his arms.
“Nonsense!” Uncle said, shaking his head, “Just because your father put no faith in your skills outside of bending does not mean that you should give up on your passions.”
“I don’t want to perform to an audience,” Zuko snarled. It was one thing to practice firebending where the whole crew could see and judge his lackluster skills. It was another thing entirely to draw his dao, a weapon no sensible firebender should be using, and be spotted using a weapon that a wanted criminal was known to use. His crew was too smart to overlook a detail like that. At least, they better be.
Uncle looked thoughtful. “Tonight is music night. I’m sure no one will be paying attention to the aft deck, should anyone decide to use it for anything. Afterall, music night is very popular.”
Zuko blinked. That might actually work. If all the crew was occupied somewhere else, and the essential crew was at their assigned stations in the engines and the command tower no one should be looking on the aft deck. It was a good of an opportunity that they could hope to get.
And privately? He wanted to spar.
“Fine. Tonight, at sunset. The aft deck.” Zuko watched the minute shifting across Hornet’s posture.
She seemed excited.
“At sunset. I will be there, princeling.”
This was a terrible idea. Zuko shouldn’t be sneaking around on his own ship, but here he was, peering out of the deep sun-cast shadows to the open deck, checking to see if the coast was clear.
It made him feel a bit better that he couldn’t see Hornet out there yet either but still. He shouldn’t be doing this at all.
It wasn’t until he could hear the distinctive sound of a tsungi horn bellowing out from the other side of the ship that he was willing to slink out onto the aft deck, dual dao sheathed and dangling from his belt.
It was sunset. Zuko glanced around suspiciously, wondering where Hornet was when he heard an ever-so slight thump behind him.
Spinning around, he caught sight of Hornet straightening up from a crouch, and he had the horrible feeling that she had dropped down from somewhere above. He hoped it wasn’t the command tower. That was a terrifying distance to fall without aid to ease the landing.
“I see you have brought your blades,” Hornet said, shifting to hold her weapon level with the ground behind her, “May I see them?”
Zuko is reluctant to draw his swords, but he is going to need to eventually if they are going to spar. Glancing around once more to ensure that none of the crew have slunk over to this side of the ship, he unhooked the scabbard from his belt and removed the dao from their sheath.
Hornet took a step closer, head tilted as she examined the blades. “I have never seen anything quite like this before in Hallownest.” A single gauntleted finger reached out and carefully tapped the sharp edge of one of the blades. “Very few beings use bladed weapons like these. I’ve only ever seen their like in the Colosseum of Fools where spectacle is more important than clean kills. Although the Mantis Tribe’s claws are very similar as the denizens of the Fungal Wastes have very little carapace to protect them from slashing weapons.”
“Your people don’t use swords at all?” Zuko didn’t bother to keep the incredulity out of his voice, but Hornet seemed more amused than annoyed.
“Bladed tools are of little use when your enemies and food alike are armored. Weapons like my needle are designed to pierce through weak points in the carapace for clean kills. It is much easier to roast a dirtcarver in its own shell than to try and break through the shell while it is still alive.”
That seemed … reasonable. Earth Kingdom soldier often wore armor, and while melee troops would sometimes combat them the more common response was to send out a squad of firebenders. And spears were the typical response for ostrich-horses as they could breach the plates that protected them.
He idly wondered what a dirtcarver was.
“Dual dao aren’t just a pair of swords,” Zuko said, shifting away from Hornet and moving slowly through his warmup kata, “they’re a single weapon split apart. They become an extension of the wielder’s body.”
“Do you use them in conjunction with your fire bending?”
Zuko startled in his movements, missing a beat before shifting back to look at her. “No. I don’t think anyone would think to do that. Most people who know how to bend don’t bother to learn how to use any other weapon.”
Hornet made a noncommittal sound.
“What about your weapon?” Zuko said, attempting to shift the focus, “Is it common where you’re from?”
“The needle is the traditional weapon of Deepnest, my homeland. It is rare to see one in Hallownest proper.”
As she spoke she shifted her grip on the weapon – the needle – holding in front of her with the tip pointed down, the metallic loop level with Hornet’s shoulders.
“It is a tool, used for both hunting and navigating around obstacles. It is a two-handed weapon, in that one hand controls the needle itself and the other manipulates the thread. My mother used to dual wield a pair of greatneedles before she was sent to Dream.”
Zuko blinked in bewilderment. How could someone dual-wield a two-handed weapon?
Did Hornet’s mother hold the thread in her teeth? What did it mean to be sent to Dream? That was the second time she had mentioned it. Perhaps it was a way her people were set to rest – a funerary rite of some sort.
Zuko shook his head, trying to get the image out of his head.
A slight gimmer of light shone off the loop portion of the needle and Zuko caught sight off the silky threadlike material Hornet had showed them earlier, tied to the loop and loosely wrapped around her wrist before disappearing off somewhere.
He focused back on the needle. “It’s a bit like a javelin, but with its own retrieval method?”
“I do not know what a javelin is,” Hornet said.
“It’s like a – a harpoon launched from a ballista, but without the chain.”
“I am unfamiliar with both of those weapon types.”
Zuko cleared his throat. “You know what, it’s not that important. Are we going to spar or not?”
Hornet shifted her grip on the needle’s hilt once more, her whole body shifting into something more active, a trap ready to spring.
“Whenever you are ready, princeling,” she said, and her dark eyes seemed to glitter as Zuko moved into a ready position.
He took a deep, centering breath before speaking, “I’m ready.”
“Then let us begin,” Hornet said, blocking Zuko’s sudden lunge with ease before backstepping what felt like half the deck away. He watched as Hornet flicked the end of her needle, the motion coinciding with the silk attached to the loop lighting up and billowing into the air behind her, and Zuko wondered if perhaps he had bitten off more than he could chew.