Chapter 8: The Travelers

"Tell me again," said Iroh to the kappa, struggling to keep pace with his scaly guide as they clambered up a steep hill, "why we're going to see this Great T'Phon?"

The kappa stopped in its tracks, giving the breathless general a chance to catch up. "Will you hurry up? You're like a fat old man!" Iroh glared at the kappa as he finally caught up, clutching at a stitch in his side. "And you would know why we're going to see T'Phon if you had been listening earlier."

"There's a lot here to distract a man!" replied Iroh. "And what happened to you being so polite all the time? You've just been running me all over this cursed place like an Ostrich Horse. I don't even think you want to help me find Lu Ten!"

"I will forgive your hasty words, sir," said the kappa, "if you forgive mine. Now, sir, as I said before, we kappa possess vast knowledge. But even I am ignorant of where the spirits of the dead venture, and I have not left the river where you found me in a very long time. Great T'Phon will know. There is only one spirit older than he."

"Why don't we go to him, then?" said Iroh. "It seems that he would have a better chance of knowing."

The kappa shuddered. "Koh is not... the most sociable of spirits," he finally said. "No, no, sir. T'Phon is by far our safest bet. This way, sir."

Iroh continued his laborious ascent, the kappa remaining ahead. He marveled at how fast the little creature could move, but he supposed spirits were spirits and men were men and that was that. It was hard to climb the hill, for no grass or trees or anything else on it. It was nothing but grey stone. Eventually though, with much huffing and puffing, he made it to the top. The kappa had reached it long before him, and was impatiently tapping its foot.

"I congratulate you on finally reaching the top, sir," said the kappa in his sanctimonious tones. "Behold!" He pointed into the distance.

From this vantage point, Iroh could see that stretching out below them were several more large hills and small mountains, centered around one huge one, one of the biggest Iroh had seen in either of the worlds. Like the hill they stood on now, these mountains seemed to harbor vegetation at all. They were simply grey mounds of stone.

"This is where the Great T'Phon makes his home," said the kappa, his respectful tone seeming, for a change, sincere.

"On one of these mountains?" asked Iroh.

"Mountains, sir? What mountains?" said the kappa, scratching its head with a scaly hand. Before Iroh had a chance to reply, the kappa faced the mountains and cried out with a loud voice.

"Oh Great T'Phon!" intoned the kappa, as if reciting a ritual. "Two humble souls request your honorable presence! For without your great wisdom, we will surely perish as we wonder in the wilderness!"

Surely this T'Phon won't be able to hear us from this distance, thought Iroh, glancing at the huge mountain the kappa had said was the spirit's home. Still, something compelled him to remain silent.

Then, the earth shook.

"Great spirits!" Iroh swore as he nearly tumbled backwards off the hill.

"Precisely," said the kappa. His eyes were fixed in the direction of the mountain, and the general followed his gaze. He gasped as the reason for the shaking became apparent. The mountain was moving.

Iroh watched, awestruck, as the titanic hill stood up from the ground, moving with geographical slowness. Four legs unfolded with the speed of a tectonic plate, and then the mountain shook its broad back with all the swiftness of erosion. With each movement, there was another earthquake, and Iroh realized that, even when faced with the dragons, he had never been so afraid, so swallowed up in awe. Then he saw the mountain's fanlike ears and ivory tusks, and all was clear to him. There was no mountain at all, and there had never been one.

It had simply been the double vision that one had in the spirit world. Iroh blinked, and though he had no doubt that in the physical world the Great T'Phon was indeed a mountain of colossal proportions. But on this plane it was an animal, an animal bigger than any he had ever seen or would ever see. A Lion Turtle would've been knee high to this brute. Great T'Phon was an elephant; an elephant who had, until now, been sleeping.

T'Phon threw back his head and yawned, revealing the interior of a mouth that could hold one hundred men with room to spare. Then, he shook his head and called out in a voice as deep as a whale's heartbeat.

"You could have given me a little more time," he boomed. "I just laid down a few hundred years ago."

"My apologies, Lord T'Phon," cried the kappa. "But we were greatly in need of your assistance!"

"Hoom," boomed T'Phon. Iroh could feel the great elephant's voice vibrating the ground beneath his feet. "I know that voice... Sandy? Is that you, Sandy?"

Iroh looked at the kappa. "Sandy?" he mouthed. The kappa blushed, which was something to behold given his green skin.

"Yes, Lord T'Phon, it is I. How noble of you to remember such a lowly spirit as myself."

"An elephant," said T'Phon, "never forgets. Hoom. Hoom. Hoom." That sound resounded even lower than T'Phon's own voice, and Iroh realized that that sound must be the spirit's laugh. "Who's that you've got with you, Sandy?"

"His name, Lord, is Iroh. He has come to-"

"Oh blast it," interrupted T'Phon. "I can't bear all this shouting. Come closer and know me better, little men!"

Iroh looked at the great distance between them and T'Phon, then at the kappa.

"Lord," said Sandy, "It would seem that there is in fact a great deal of distance between us and you."

T'Phon's trunk swished back and forth. "So there is," said the spirit. "Hoom. Hoom. Well then, we'll have Xiàng carry you over. After all, you've been standing on his back this whole time. Hoom." There was a great rumble as the elephant cleared his throat. "Boys," he called. "Oh boys, it's time to wake up."

There was such a colossal shaking that Iroh was certain that the ground was bound to crack apart and he would be dropped screaming into a yawning abyss. Each of the mountains was now trembling in a manner identical to the way T'Phon had shook as he rose from the ground. Iroh understood that there were no mountains here at all, simply more members of Great T'Phon's very large (pardon the pun) family.

"Hold on to something!" cried Sandy as the elephant whose back they were perched on began to rise.

The shaking and rumbling continued for what may have been years or days or even mere minutes. Time was fluid in the spirit world, but it certainly seemed like a very long time to General Iroh. At last, the landscape was filled with gigantic spirit elephants, all shaking and trumpeting and treading slowly toward their father.

"They move a little quicker than I do," mused T'Phon. "Their mother was a cloud spirit." He turned to face the elephant carrying Iroh and Sandy. "Bring them here, Xiàng. Chop chop. Hoom."

Empires rose and fell as Xiàng moved to stand before his father.

"Now," boomed the great elephant. "What can I do for you?"

Sandy began to bow, then thought better of it. "This man," said he, indicating the general, "is called Iroh."

"A mortal," said T'Phon. "Hmm."

"Indeed, Lord. He has ventured into our domain in the hope of finding his son."

"Ahh," replied the elephant. "And do you have any idea where his son is?"

"No, Lord," said Sandy. "He's dead."

"Then he could be anywhere." T'Phon inclined his enormous head slightly and fixed him fathomless eyes on Iroh.

"Er, indeed, Lord T'Phon. We were hoping you could narrow it down for us. It is superfluous for me to say, Lord, but there is no spirit wiser than yourself"

"Hoom," boomed the elephant. "Superfluous, perhaps, but it certainly doesn't hurt to be reminded every now and again. Hoom. Hoom."

"Please help us, Lord. There is but one other spirit who may know, and we do not dare approach Koh the Face Stealer."

"No," said T'Phon gravely. "I would say not." He was silent for a long time. A new species was evolving somewhere. "Very well," he finally said. "But first, I have a few questions of my own." He beckoned to Iroh with his trunk. "Come here, little man."

Iroh hesitantly stepped forward onto Xiàng's head, then cried out as Great T'Phon wrapped his trunk around his waste and lifted him into the air. The elephant king held the Dragon of the West before his face. Iroh could feel T'Phon's breath like a blast of wind against him.

"Fear not, little man," said the elephant, surprisingly quietly. "I could've crushed you like a bug long before now. Hoom. Hoom. I have only a few questions."

Iroh relaxed. Slightly.

"Do you not think the dead should rest in peace? Has your son not earned a respite from the harshness and depravity of the physical world? Why do you come here, seeking to bring him back?"

Iroh did not meet T'Phon's eyes. "I seek only to be with my son, whether that is in life or here in this world. If he can return, we will return together. If he cannot, or will not, then I will stay here with him. Lu Ten may have found peace in death, but I can never find peace in a life without him in it. Think of your own sons. What if one of them died?"

"Time," said T'Phon, "is an illusion, and so is death. Even nature teaches us this. The very spirit of the planet is embodied in the Avatar, whose body may die a physical death. But the Avatar spirit is never dead. It dances through thousands of lives, through each of your four nations in turn. All of creation is a part of that dance, and nothing is ever really gone. I would rejoice for one of my sons if he were to take his next step in the dance of creation. You should do the same, Iroh. Rejoice for your son, and learn happiness again."

"Happiness?" cried Iroh. "How can I do that when my only joy has been taken from me? My country is not what I thought it was, my family cares nothing for me at all. Lu Ten was all I had!"

Iroh thought he would be blown away by the mighty rush of air caused by Great T'Phon's sigh. "Very well, little man," boomed the spirit. A note of sadness had creeped into his voice. He replaced the general on top of his son's head. The elephant king shifted his weigh on his feet slightly.

"The dead," boomed T'Phon, "are unlike the other spirits in this realm, who are tied to an aspect of the physical world, which is also tied to them. The spirits of the dead may go wherever they wish after they arrive here. But most are eventually drawn to one place." He paused and cleared his throat. "The center. Mount Sumeru

"Mount Sumeru is the tallest mountain in creation, larger even than myself. But Sumeru is not a spirit. It is utterly itself, with many levels. The dead are always climbing it, for at the top lies their final fate."

"And what is that?" asked Iroh quietly.

"Hmmm?" said T'Phon. "I don't know. I've never climbed Mount Sumeru. I'm too slow and I'm not dead. Hoom. Hoom."

"Where can we find this mountain, Lord T'Phon?" asked Sandy.

"You must head West, through mountains who are not my children and valleys that are not my nieces. Strange lands filled with strange spirits. Eventually, you will come to the Sumeru foothills, and beyond them lies the mountain itself. There will be many obstacles, I'm sure. I wish you luck, General Iroh. I hope you find what you're looking for. Shall I have one of my boys give you a lift?"

Iroh and Sandy looked at each other as they considered the glacial speed of Great T'Phon and his family.

"That's not necessary, Lord T'Phon," said Sandy.

The elephant king laughed. "Very well." Taking them both in his trunk, he lowered them gently to the ground. "Now I think I'll go back to sleep. I could use forty years."

Iroh sat on the ground across from Sandy, picking bones out of a small fish the kappa had caught. A campfire blazed.

"You know, sir," said Sandy, "I'm not certain you need to eat in this world. Or, for that matter, sleep. There was no need for us to make camp. I'm not certain it's even really night."

Iroh stared into the fire.

"I suppose you didn't hear me, sir," said Sandy after a moment. "I said-"

"I hope you find what you're looking for," said Iroh slowly.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"T'Phon said, 'I hope you find what you're look for.' Why not 'who you're looking for?' Or, 'I hope you find your son?'"

"I'm sure I don't know, sir. Perhaps he simply misspoke?"

"Perhaps," said the general, and yawned. "I'm tired. I should turn in."

"I doubt you need to sleep. I never have."

Under more familiar circumstances, Iroh would have expressed his astonishment at this claim. But if the spirit world taught a person anything, it was to take strange new facts in strid. He yawned again.

"Whether or not I need to," said the general, "I want to."

And so, after clearing a space on the ground, Iroh lay down and drifted from the spirit world into the dream world.

To sleep... Perchance to dream...

In the days of old and in the time before time, throughout the world, dreams have been though of as windows into another realm. Those who lived in ancient times often believed that while they slept, they were allowed glimpses into the spirit world.

But what would a man see if he was already in the spirit world? What dreams may come?

Iroh stood in the midst of a vast, featureless plane. A thick fog rose continually from the ground. All around him, he heard voices, whispering.

"H-hello?" Iroh called. "Is anyone here?" His voice echoed around him. The voices did not cease their whispering.

"I know you're there!" said the general, taking a few hesitant steps forward. "I can hear you!"

The voices became louder. He could now just barely make out parts of words. Iroh looked all around him, still seeing no one. Then, he cried aloud as he felt hot breath on the back of his neck. Startled, he took another step forward and tripped. As he lay on the grey ground, the fog began to form into unwelcome and familiar shapes.

He saw the faces of all his men who had died during the siege of Ba Sing Se, the faces of all the Earthbenders he had slain on that terrible day, and then the horrible glaring face of his brother Ozai. But worst of all to behold in that featureless plane his dreams had transported him to was the face of his beloved Lu Ten, an expression of such anger and disappointment on his face that the pain it cause Iroh was nearly physical.

The figures began to advance on Iroh.

"No!" cried the general as the apparitions edged closer. "It wasn't my fault!" They were nearly upon him now. "It wasn't me fault!" he cried again and again, even as they swarmed him, even as he vanished beneath their shadowy forms.

"It wasn't my fault!" cried Iroh one last time as the last fragments of the dream melted away. He opened his eyes and saw the kappa standing over him, shaking him.

"Finally you're awake, sir!" exclaimed Sandy, his usual unctuous tones peppered with a hint of urgency. "I was quite worried! Are you alright?"

"Fine, fine," said Iroh quietly, sitting up. "I just had a nightmare."

"A what?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Whatever you think is best, sir," said Sandy. "I must admit though, as alarming as your sleeptime behavior was, it was not my main reasoning in waking you."

"Oh?" said Iroh, as he rose to his feet and stretched. "Then what was?"

"That," said the kappa, pointing at the red lights that approached them through the fog.

Iroh instinctively dropped into a firebending stance, then swore in frustration as he remembered that, in the spirit world, he was unable to bend, leaving him a sitting turtle-duck before this new horror the spirit world had offered him. Both the general and the kappa were paralyzed with fright as the red lights moved closer through the fog. Iroh's thoughts raced. Had his nightmares become flesh? Had the faces of the dead pursued him to the land of the waking? He almost cried aloud as a voice spoke to him from the fog, convinced it would be the voice of his son, shaming him, but he soon realized the voice was a woman's.

"Peace, General Iroh," said the unseen woman. "We mean you no harm." She stepped forward out of the fog, and Iroh realized that the red lights came from the lanterns held by the woman and the dozen or so people behind her, who were, seemingly, the most human residents of the spirit world he had yet met. In fact, they appeared entirely human. There was no double vision, no fey demeanor, to suggest these travelers the woman guided were anything more than they appeared to be. They were clad in the white robes of pilgrims, though their guide was dressed in saffron robes and wore prayer beads around her neck. She had long, dark hair, but it had been shaved away from the front of her head, where a blue arrow was tattooed. She was –

"An airbender!" Iroh exclaimed.

"Greetings, fellow travelers," said the woman, eyeing Iroh and Sandy solemnly. "I am Avatar Yangchen."

Iroh struggled to find words, and failed. All he could think of was the Air Nomad genocide committed by his grandfather in his mad quest for power. "I – I-" he began, but the Avatar silenced him with a look.

"Your grandfather's actions are not yours, General Iroh," said Yangchen, as if reading his mind. She looked over her shoulder at the group she was leading. "Avatar Roku said we might run into you." She faced Iroh again. "The nature of our journeys is not dissimilar."

"What is your destination, my lady?" asked Sandy, rubbing his webbed hands together.

"Why, Mount Sumeru, of course," said Yangchen. She indicated the pilgrims that stood behind her. "These are all souls who have had their fill of the more wild aspect of the spirit world and have decided to seek a more perfect enlightenment by climbing the Mountain."

"You mean they're – dead?" cried Iroh.

"Death is only an illusion," the Avatar replied, but the general scarcely heard her. He had ran into the small crowd behind Yangchen, seizing pilgrims by the front of their robes.

"Have you seen my son?" he cried, turning quickly from an old, old man to face a girl that looked barely 8 years old. "My son, Lu Ten! Have you seen him?" He cast his eyes upon a young man. "Where is he?" he demanded, hysterical. He collapsed to his knees, asking the assembled dead over and over again where his son might be. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Peace, Iroh," said Yangchen. "None of these has seen your son, nor have I, but another company of spirits we met earlier has spotted him. He too has gone to the Mountain, but he went alone."

"I have to go to him!" said Iroh.

"You're welcome to travel with us," said one of the white robed pilgrims, an old man. "We're all looking for something. Maybe we can help you find what you're looking for."

It was strange, at least to Iroh, that Avatar Yangchen should choose such a way to spend her afterlife; leading ghosts to the geographical oddity that was their Final Reward. But, then again, perhaps it was not so strange; all airbenders were, history recorded, monastics. After a life devoted to the spiritual path, why not an afterlife? He glanced briefly at the pilgrims trouped around him, then turned to his scaly companion.

"What do you suppose Mt. Sumeru is like, Sandy?" asked Iroh.

"It matters very little to me, sir," said the kappa as he bobbed along after Yangchen. "Very few spirits who were never citizens of the physical world make the climb. We are content to –"

The kappa tripped on an upraised tree root. He landed roughly, sprawled immobile on the ground, the water pouring out of the hollow in his head. A plump ghost, chortling, scooped a handful of water from a nearby stream and refilled the kappa's hollow head. Sandy righted himself, swearing loudly, in sharp contrast to his usual courtly demeanor. He looked up to find all their eyes on him, one ghost with his hands over the ears of the little girl. "Excuse my Water Tribe," he muttered sheepishly, rejoining the group as they pressed on.

The terrain they trekked over was strange, even for the spirit word. It seemed more unpredictable, chaotic. They seemed to get turned around or blown off course quite frequently, yet when the sun set in the evening (the general never could figure out the way time worked in the spirit world, if there were any rules it followed at all), they were still traveling west. Avatar Yangchen seemed to know where she was going, even if none of the others did. Iroh was glad they had run into the group of pilgrims, for, though the kappa would never have admitted it, he wasn't sure that Sandy would've been able to stay on course

Most of the party chatted merrily as they walked along. Everyone had long since given up on engaging Iroh in conversation after being met solely with one word replies. There was a faraway look in his eyes. He thought only of Lu Ten, and this mysterious Mount Sumeru, and how long the journey would take.

Still, he could not help feeling a pang of loneliness as the other members of the party chatted freely among themselves. Even Sandy was roaring with laughter as one of the younger souls told him a joke.

"And then the earthbender says, 'Turtleducks? I thought you said turtlef-'"

But, alas, the final syllable of that punch line was lost forever, for at that moment, a huge clap of thunder resounded across the countryside and the sky suddenly grew very dark. A bolt of lightning struck inches from the party. A driving rain began to pour from the dark clouds.

"How did this storm come upon us so quickly?" cried Iroh.

"This is no ordinary storm!" replied Sandy, running with the other members of the party, who were being led into the shelter of a nearby tree by Yangchen. Iroh followed suit. The tree was twisted and gnarled, and provided little cover from the driving rain. Still, it was better than nothing.

Iroh eyed the kappa, who was mumbling to himself while rubbing his hands together, and staring anxiously into the black clouds that had so quickly overtaken them. Suddenly, the kappa and several of the pilgrims cried aloud with surprise.

The dark clouds were descending, closer and closer to the ground, and as they lowered, they changed. There were more flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder as the dark clouds rolled and heaved like a storm tossed sea, until at last, a giant stood in the sky, laughing heartily as the wind whipped around him and the rain continued to pour down.

His skin was a rich, blue-black color, his long hair and beard as grey as the storm clouds had been. His eyes were as white as the lightning, wide and pupil-less. In one gargantuan hand he held a long, white spear. With a tremendous shout, he hurled it toward where the pilgrims stood huddled beneath the twisted tree. Iroh had a moment of double vision as the spear unmistakably became a bolt of lightning. It struck a few feet from them. Several of the pilgrims yelped with fright, and the little girl now began to cry. The giant's booming laugh echoed across the sky. Another spear appeared in his hand, and he drew back his arm…

Avatar Yangchen stepped in front of the giant, into the path of the spear. The giant stopped laughing and considered her, letting his spear-arm drop back to his side.

"Avatar Yangchen!" boomed the giant, surprised. He made an awkward attempt at a foppish bow. "Beggin' yer pardon m'lady, I didn' see yeh and yer party." He gestured toward Iroh and the terrified pilgrims. "Beggin' yer pardon," he said again. "I'm afraid I can' stop this, though," he said, holding his arms out on either side of him to indicate the vicious wind and rain. "I'm in the middle o' a bit o' a competition, y'see. But if ya get your lot out from under that old bat-monkey, yeh can go on. It's her I'm after."

Iroh was utterly confused. Old bat-monkey? Her? Who was the giant talking about?

Yangchen, whoever, showed no signs of confusion at all. She merely nodded.

Yes, yes, of course," she said, as if everything were perfectly clear now. "Though I do think you should be more careful in the future. Your petty squabbles may get someone hurt some day." She beckoned to the group, who were only too glad to scurry out from under the tree the storm giant had apparently designated for target practice. The last pilgrim had barely made it out from under it when the enormous man once again chucked his spear. This time it struck home, and Iroh had another dizzying experience of double vision.

The tree they had been standing under was simultaneously a tree and an ancient lady, stooped and bent with age but huge, just as tall as the storm giant who had hurled his lightning spear at her. Her skin was as brown as bark, and her leaf-green hair hung over her shoulders like moss. A mischievous grin broke out across her woody features as she uprooted herself, cackling as she shuffled, slightly clumsily, toward the storm giant, waving her limbs mockingly.

"Come," said Avatar Yangchen to the party. "We have a long way to go. Sumeru awaits!"

Iroh was lost in thought as the pilgrims walked further and further from the storm. He had never even considered that the forces that shaped the world might be so hostile. Skirting around some of the ghosts, he approached Yangchen at the front of the group.

"Avatar Yangchen?" said Iroh.

"Yes, General?"

"There seems to be so much conflict in the spirit world. The dragons I first saw when I came here are locked in an eternal struggle. That storm spirit and the tree-woman are but another example…" Iroh threw his hands in the air. "They seemed even to enjoy it… I don't understand!"

Yangchen smiled, ever so slightly.

"It is true," she said, "that there is a great deal of conflict in this plane. Those dragons and the feud between the storm spirit and the tree spirits are examples to us of the struggle of opposites. But the struggle between opposites is a necessary prerequisite to their reconciliation, and so, these are the forces that give motion and shape to the world: the struggle between opposites and their reconciliation. Two very different things become one magnificent new whole. This new whole in turn contains the seeds of conflict within it. And so the cycle is repeated." As she spoke she traced a spiral in the air with her right hand, narrow where it started and broad where she finished it. "The spirit world is by definition part of a struggle. The spirits cannot exist without their natural correspondents, but the natural forms, in turn, are sustained by the spirits they are connected with."

Iroh frowned as he attempted to parse what the Avatar had just told him.

"Then," he said at length, "which comes first, matter or spirit?"

Yangchen laughed, a strangely beautiful sound, in sharp contrast to her typically stern exterior. She took a lantern from one of the ghosts and held it up in front of the general.

"When you light a lantern," she said, "which comes first, the light or the flame?"

As Iroh pondered this, the sun appeared suddenly in the sky, just in time for it to begin sinking below the horizon. Sunset was a strange thing in the spirit world; as the chaotic landscape was bathed in the golden half-light, the double vision extended to everything. Hills were rhinos and elephants and oxen, snoring away their tectonic slumber and occasionally shaking their broad backs with a rumble. Trees were beautiful brown-skinned men and women, beautiful flowing manes of forest green adorning their scalps, like the plumage of some bizarre yet beautiful bird. The ever-present animals were revealed to be, in many cases, people, or at least some similitude of people; some monstrous and wicked-looking, others incredibly beautiful. The only ones who stayed the same were the ghosts; they were utterly themselves. And so gazing through the ruddy twilight of the spirit world, Iroh saw both the conflict and the reconciliation that shaped the world.