On the airship's deck, Aang and Taga rose in unison.
Suddenly, an enormous airship, much larger than theirs, emerged from the bank of fog like a sea monster breaking the surface. Its hull was painted a dull green, and banners bearing the Renegades' emblem—a clenched fist breaking a chain—hung from its stern. It was flanked by two smaller aircraft, which deployed in a pincer formation on both sides.
—Fire!
At the archer woman's command, the ballistae mounted on the gunwales of all three airships fired in a volley. Dozens of grappling harpoons, as thick as a man's arm and tipped with steel hooks, tore through the air in a deadly fan. The taut ropes whistled behind them like metal serpents.
Taga narrowed his eyes. Without exchanging a word, he and Aang leaped at the same time, their bodies spinning through the air in perfect synchronization. Both traced a wide arc with their arms and released a blast of compressed air that struck the first wave of harpoons. The projectiles veered off course, their trajectories twisted into harmless spirals that vanished among the clouds.
—It's the Renegades! —Katara exclaimed from the gondola window, her fingers gripping the frame.
Aang and Taga managed to block the harpoons aimed at the upper part of the airship. Those attacking the lower part, however, struck home. The steel tips pierced the metal plating of the hull with a crash of torn metal. Wave after wave, dozens of hooks embedded themselves in the structure, and the ropes tightened with a simultaneous snap. The three enemy airships pulled on them, firmly lashing the Fire Lord's aircraft between their grasp.
Taga clenched his jaw. His hands moved with a speed that Aang could barely follow, tracing concentric circles in the air. Then he extended both arms toward one of the smaller airships and released a current of air that coiled around the hull like a boa constrictor. The pressure began to increase. The metal groaned, deformed, and began to crack under the invisible crushing force.
—Is he... crushing the ship? —one of the Renegades stammered, his eyes wide.
—Taga, stop!
Aang leaped and planted himself in front of him, interposing himself between Taga and the airship. He struck the deck surface with an open palm and released an expansive air current that swept across the entire hull. The harpoons embedded in the metal popped out one by one, the ropes came loose, and the three enemy airships wobbled as they lost their grip. Aang spun on himself and released a second fan-shaped blast, creating a wall of hurricane-force wind that pushed the enemy aircraft backward, gaining distance.
Taga opened his mouth to retort, but a deafening thunderclap interrupted him.
He realized they had just entered the storm.
The sky changed in an instant. The white, cottony clouds gave way to a dark, threatening mass, crisscrossed by lightning branching like purple veins. Sunlight vanished completely, replaced by an orange twilight, as if the world had been submerged in liquid amber. Rain began to beat against the hull with an incessant patter.
And then Aang saw it.
On the other side of the first curtain of clouds, dozens of tornadoes spun within the storm. They were columns of wind and rain twisting like the fingers of an angry god, some thin as serpents, others as wide as mountains. Lightning fell between them, illuminating the scene with intermittent flashes, and the roar of the wind was so deafening that any scream was choked out before it could be born.
—There has to be another route! —Aang shouted, his voice barely audible over the din. The airship shook violently as turbulence struck it from the side, and the hull's ribs creaked like branches about to snap.
—No! —Taga replied, his beard soaked and his clothes flapping like flags—. Together, you and I can clear the path for the ship! But we have to go now!
Aang looked at the tornadoes with concern.
—Aang —Taga stared at him, his eyes gleaming in the rain—. Trust me.
In the command cabin, Sokka stood beside Zuko, who piloted the airship with both hands gripping the controls.
—Uh, maybe now is a good time to turn back —he said, his tone forcibly calm.
At that precise moment, two orange figures leaped from the deck and launched themselves toward the nearest tornado. Sokka followed them with his gaze and let out a resigned sigh.
—Never mind. I don't think that's an option anymore.
—Where the hell are they going? —Katara shouted, leaning out of the hatch.
A sudden lightning bolt struck the airship's side with a blinding explosion. The blast was so violent that everyone lost their balance. Fire burst from the open gash in the hull, and a column of black smoke began to pour from the engines. The aircraft tilted dangerously to one side and began to descend.
—The engine is dead!
—We're losing air pressure!
Zuko rose from the pilot's seat.
—Katara, Toph, come with me!
—And what about me? —Sokka asked, pointing at himself.
—You take the wheel.
Zuko disappeared through the hatch before Sokka could reply. The Water Tribe warrior was left alone facing the control panel, his eyes fixed on the controls as if they were ancient hieroglyphs.
—What? I've never piloted Fire Nation ships —he muttered to himself.
He rubbed his hands together, took a deep breath, and sat down in the pilot's seat. His fingers traced the controls delicately.
—Okay, let's see. Here's our rudder. This is the elevator. There's our ballast...
He looked up at the windshield.
—And there's the giant tornado that's going to kill us all.
Noah stood atop the airship, invisible, his arms crossed over his chest. The storm roared around him, lightning illuminating his hidden silhouette with intermittent flashes, and rain lashed his face without him making the slightest gesture to protect himself. His mismatched eyes followed every movement of Team Avatar as they tried to survive this dangerous situation.
The airship shook violently as turbulence struck it from the side. The bow pitched downward, and for a few endless seconds, everyone held their breath. Katara, standing in the open gondola, extended her arms with a stifled cry and channeled a stream of water that rose from the raging sea, forming a liquid ramp that slowed their descent. The metal hull screeched as it scraped the water's surface, but it did not break.
—Toph, now! —Zuko shouted from the hatch.
Toph planted her feet on the deck and spread both palms toward the hull. With a movement of her arms, the deformed plates began to twist and slide over each other, obeying her will. The steel screeched as the edges of the holes bent and sealed, closing one breach after another before wind and rain could continue battering the ship's interior.
Zuko ran to the engine room. He stood before the burners and, with a deep breath, launched two powerful jets of fire from his fists. The flames roared as they found fuel, raced through the pipes, and ignited the engines one after another. The hum of the propellers grew again into a constant roar.
—Now, Sokka! —Zuko shouted with all his might.
Sokka gripped the helm with both hands and turned it decisively. The airship responded with a long groan as the nose slowly lifted. The propellers regained thrust, overcoming the fall, and the enormous craft rose again through the rain and wind.
The airship stabilized and slowly straightened.
Above, Noah shifted his gaze to the two orange dots dancing among the tornadoes. Aang and Taga flew in formation, their bodies spinning and tracing perfect arcs through the stormy air. Together, synchronized like two professional dancers, they channeled air currents that struck the tornadoes. Together, they pushed them aside, creating a corridor of relative calm through which the airship could advance.
A particularly large tornado blocked their path. Aang and Taga separated, flanking it on both sides, and released two simultaneous blasts that split it in half. The column of wind collapsed like a house of cards, and the path was clear.