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Bridges of Light

Chapter One:

Ride to the Mountain

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The sky rested low over the land like a worn navy quilt, blanketing Hyrule Field with muggy air that was characteristic of mid-summer. The streets of Mairvan were silent under the influence of twilight, save for a single man who sat half-unconscious on his porch. His sunken face glowed sharply from the lit torch that hung from the ragged eaves, and a book lay open between his squared fingers. Every few minutes, he would slowly sink into the seat of his wooden chair, nod off, and then jerk awake as if he had been prodded in the side.

Another young one was awake at this unholy hour, although she was much more alert than the man outside. She sat upright in her bed with a thin cotton pillow propped up against her back, and a pile of paper in her lap. Upon a worn bedside table, a stumpy candle flame guttered within its overflowing pool of wax, beside a well used ink pot. The matching Cucco-feather quill was in the woman's hands, the tip brushing against her chin as she trailed deep in thought. Every so often she would jot down several scratchy letters on the paper, stifle an occasional yawn, and then return to her pondering. From what was legible, it seemed that she was writing a fictional story, although from the amount of words that were struck-through, she wasn't feeling very creative tonight.

A few more minutes passed, and without any more inspiration to drive her, she sighed and returned the quill to its pot. It was late, and it probably was best that she rest her mind until tomorrow.

The woman tiredly swung her legs out of bed and marched to her writing desk, buried under an uneven pyramid of scrolls. With one swift movement, she pulled open the table drawer, stuffed the paper into it, and shut it with a thrust of her hip. But even with her work safely out of sight, it certainly wasn't out of mind. Droves of letters still muttered in her head. Rubbing the sides of her temples, she sat back on the bed, trying to relax herself.

The silence was heavy in the room now, and the wind could now be heard picking at the old muted lanterns that hung from the corner of every roof. Through the window above her bed, she could see a soft halo of flame, and in its glow, the figure of her neighbor. "Silly Dren," she smirked as he attempted to turn another page, "He can never put down a good book, even at this hour." His head jerked up again as he fought off another wave of sleep, and she kneeled on the bed to rest her elbows on the window sill, palms up and cushioning her chin. She tried to relax herself with the repetitiveness of the night outside: the squeak of the house against the breeze, the swaying of the flame in the lanterns, Dren's head bobbing up and down like a fish lure upon his shoulders.

The relaxing stillness was suddenly interrupted by a strange noise. A quick, light tapping sound coming from her right. It was the feather, trembling in its jar and tapping its hardened stem against the glass bottom. The noise was soon accompanied by the table drawers, which rattled up and down with increasing intensity. As the glass in the window started to clatter, the woman stared beyond it with alarm. Was it an earthquake? She could see the blurred figure of Dren, the book lost at his feet when he jumped out of his chair. He quickly ran beyond the window frame, several other shadows flitting past with him.

Yells started from outside, nearly drowned beneath a horrible rumbling, like thunder in a storm. "Something's headed this way!" she heard, and before she could respond, a splintering crash resounded through her wall. The table disintegrated beneath a rolling behemoth of stone, showering her with woody debris. The rock wasn't even disturbed by the obstacle, and lost no speed when it plowed through the opposite wall, crushing the end of her bed inches from her exposed toes. Screams from her fellow townsfolk sang ever louder through the hole in her wall, accompanied by the rumble of more rocks tearing through the town. "What's happening?!" she cried, her stomach a hardy knot of fear; her limbs freezing her in a defensive ball.

"Mandara! It's the Gorons! They're attacking the houses!" a young teen yelled in response, his forehead trickling a thin line of blood from an impact wound.

"Rero!" she yelled. He ran towards her, making his way through a battlefield of debris outside. She could barely see his fleeting image between flurries of papers still whirling around her, but an enormous shadow surfaced behind the wall. "Watch out!" Before he could react, his body was abruptly sent flying from a craggy-fisted punch to the stomach, and she watched in horror as he landed, motionless, in the rubble of Dren's fallen porch. The accused figure stepped out from the shadow, its body harshly illuminated by an iron lantern it held loosely in its left hand. She was motionless in the corner of her room, dusted with the remains of her writing desk, curled as small as her body would allow. Its massive head slowly scanned over the ruins, and she flinched as its eyes caught in the dim light, glowing bright violet and icy cold. Thin lips broke into a shallow grin.

"Come and play, puny human..."

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Mandara's eyes snapped open. Her body refused to move, palms slick with nervous sweat. "I thought... I thought these dreams would go away once I left..." The thin mattress creaked on the bed slats under her, and she ran one shaking hand over her brow. It was just as damp as her hands. Rolling onto her side, the young woman slowly recalled where she was; a dim inn room, simply furnished with a round table and a matching chair. A shallow wooden bowl filled with scummy hand water occupied the tabletop. It was several more minutes before her legs obeyed, to blearily stumble over there to wash her face.

She stared intently into the washbasin's cloudy depths and examined her reflection. Her oval-shaped face was ivory pale as usual, barely coloured despite exposure to the sun, except for the discolored bags that hung under her eyes. Their violet hue only intensified the color of green around her dark brown irises. A mess of hair trailed loosely around her pointed ears and dipped their tips into the water.

A sudden knock on the door startled her, and a rickety voice drifted through. "Excuse me miss... There's a group of travelers outside waiting for you... They want me to let you know that... you should... get ready... and..." Something else was muttered, but it was too soft and faded to understand. Sighing, Mandara tossed on a pair of olive green work pants, and a thick cotton sweater. Shouldering her canvas backpack, she snatched her leather vest from the back of the chair and marched out the door. As she jogged through the halls of the inn, trying to thread her arms through the vest's armholes, she passed by a willowy young maid who was scrubbing floors with a rag-tipped pole. She looked up with startled grey eyes and bowed deeply. "Th-thank you for staying at Kakariko Inn..." she stuttered with a familiar accent. Mandara inclined her head and smiled, but the maid had already returned to her work. The receptionist at the front desk responded in the same manner as she passed.

The fresh country air was invigorating and still moist with the morning dew. Mandara stepped from the inn and was instantly warmed by the warm yellow sunlight. Most of Kakariko's abstract brick houses were still doused in curtains of darkness by the tall arms of the neighboring mountain peaks. But they were sickly and frail in comparison to the monstrous bulk of Death Mountain, which proudly crouched as the king of the mountain range over the puny settlement. In the open square beyond the inn's porch, several figures were already awake and chatting, seated around a wagon filled with rows of boards and overstuffed canvas bags. She dropped her bag by the stairs, and caught a clip of conversation as she drew near.

"I hope this is enough. It takes long enough to travel across Hyrule Field, and I don't want to have to come back for a few scraps of lumber," one man said. His body was taut and firm, like a coiled spring, with a barrel-wide chest and arms to match. He scratched at his chin, irritated by the uneven stubble.

"Well, we've certainly spent enough Rupees here. I'm sure we can make do with what we've got here," another noted. This speaker was female, but by no means fragile: draped in hardy leather coveralls and roasted a golden tan, she bore the image of a hard and serious worker.

"Good morning!" Mandara interrupted. The group turned and smiled broadly. The worker woman walked up beside her to firmly pat her on the crown of her head.

"How be you today, girlie?" the woman said cheerfully, petting her hand lazily over Mandara's tangled hair. The gesture was meant to be friendly, but it only made the girl feel like she was being treated like a child.

"Err... Fine, I guess..." she lied, trying to push the prowling hand away. It only dug in tighter though, wrestling with the knots.

"Here, let me braid this for you," she said with an overtly sweet tone, gesturing towards the bench in front of the nearest building. The girl nodded and sat down sideways, one foot resting on the seat. The woman sat behind her and began to pick through the twisted locks, although not very gently. "I can tell you're not fine, Mandara," she whispered, "You had some sort of nightmare last night. I could hear you through the wall, rolling and groaning." Ashamedly, the girl stared at her boot.

"It was the Gorons again, Tima." The woman stopped for a moment to sigh, then resumed braiding.

"Probably because we're so close," she said, "You know... to their mountain. Maybe it would have been better for you to stay back in Mairvan."

"No!" Mandara started, "Staying there would've been just the same. All I really need is a change of scenery."

"Well, you picked the worst place for the view. If you wanted to escape, you could have gone to Hyrule Market. At least you can shop there." Tima reached over Mandara's shoulder and plucked the leather tie from her hand.

"I'm not escaping anything!" she protested.

"It takes more than a night away from home to get over memories like these. I know you're eighteen-"

"Nineteen," Mandara corrected, handing her a wooden cylinder-shaped clasp.

Tima raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, nineteen. Just because you're officially an adult doesn't mean that you can just pretend that nothing fazes you. Living like that won't make you seem any more mature. Oh, and try to stay level headed on our way home, okay?" The clasp closed with a firm snap around the top of Mandara's braid.

"Have I ever not been level-headed?" she said after a smirk. Tima flicked her in the back of the head with a sharp laugh. A horse nickered in the background along with the chime of loose harnesses, a sign that Tima should leave to do her share.

The muscled man stepped from the wagon and clapped Mandara softly on the shoulder. He gazed at her for a moment, searching her for something hidden. But her stubborn pout wouldn't relinquish any thoughts.

"We'll be leaving for home soon. Why don't you have your pack?"

"Well... I'm planning on staying for a bit longer," she said, "I still have some... business I need to attend to here. It's not often I get to stay outside of town." A frown twitched across his lips.

"I suppose that's as good a reason as any. But that's no problem," he said, reaching deeply into his trouser pockets to pull out a handful of shiny gems. He counted through the pile and pushed two into Mandara's unexpecting hands. She eyed their bright red sheen and hastily offered them back.

"I don't need any more money, Rotoro!" she cried, "I have enough to-"

"This is for renting a horse to ride home with. You can ride one, right?"

"Y-yeah. Well enough-"

"Then take them. The only other thing that I can buy here is your safety." Mandara ran her thumb over the Rupees that he had given her, and guiltily stuck them into her vest pocket. They met the rest of her feeble sums with a light tinkle.

With a wave of his hand, he strode off and signaled for everyone else to come join the loading team. It was time to leave.

Tima looked confused at Mandara's solo waving figure on the porch of the inn. She mouthed something to Rotoro, who nodded understandingly, and she vaulted over the side of the wagon.

"You're staying?" Tima squeaked, catching Mandara in a sudden embrace. She blushed and patted her on the back in return. "Don't tell me this is because of-"

"It's because of nothing," Mandara said sternly. "I just need some more time away. Can't heal from one night away from home, right? Isn't that what you said?" The older woman broke a forced smile, and gave her another smaller, gentler hug.

"Yes, but..." The rest of her sentence became a whisper in Mandara's ear, and no expression but concern was present on her face as she pulled away. Unable to fess up to Tima, the girl stared at the ground as she returned to the back of the wagon.

The leather reins snapped in his hands, and as the saggy mare wound her way past the Kakariko gates, Mandara suddenly felt guilty that she was staying behind. The only people in this world that she knew were leaving her in a town she wasn't familiar with, to face a challenge they didn't know she would undertake. Of course she wasn't here to shop or relax like she had implied. She had come to find the truth. She picked up her supply pack from the inn wall, filled with enough food to feed her for a few days, in case she couldn't return right away. Small crowds of people passed by her as she marched up the streets, towards the back of the town. Littered in the far boundaries of the city were the skeletons of houses, their dirt foundations filled with seeded grass and flowers. Cringing, Mandara looked away.

Death Mountain loomed over her like some demonic omen, its peak seeming to scrape against the very threshold of heaven. Stories came to mind about how even the hardiest men were stripped of their courage with a single glare from under its brow of heated ash. For one moment, Mandara faltered. But, she shook the notion out of her head and shouldered her pack. Tima's last whispered words faded in her ears as her form disappeared into the shadows of the hiking trail:

"Don't do anything stupid. I know you're here for the Gorons."