Legend of Zelda: Lantern of Shadow
Chapter One: Late Night Visitor
Fifty years ago, we lost the night. It happened mere months after the Hero Chosen by the Gods defeated Ganondorf, and now each time dark falls, we cower within our homes, windows shut, doors barred, candles black, and voices silent.
The rough tiles of the roof rub against the soles of my bare feet as I sit with my arms wrapped around my knees, staring across the village at the slowly reddening sky. My toes are numb with cold, and the wind burns my cheeks, but I am too busy watching night descend to care. For some reason, it fascinates me. The way the sky grows brighter just before it dims. How shadows fall across the land like a blanket laid out to dry.
I've never told anyone about this, though. They have enough names to call me without adding Night-Lover to the mix.
"Link!" The shout rises up through the cracks between the tiles from the room below, sharp and worried. "Where are you? It's nearly time to close the house!"
I sigh and begin to pick my way slowly down the roof. Most of the reddish slates are still slightly icy from last night's frost, and I can feel the cold moisture soaking through the seat of my pants. The rim of the roof juts out away from the side of the house, but it's a simple enough matter to lie on my belly and swing my feet around until they find the window's ledge. I give one last push with my arms to propel myself through the open space and into the warm room.
My mother is standing in the doorway of my bedroom and glaring at me when I straighten, brushing the last of the dirt and ice water from my palms. Her long, brown hair curls down her shoulders, framing her oval face. It's said that she is the most beautiful woman in all of Ordona Province, but tonight she looks pale and drawn. There are wrinkles in her apron and mud on her trousers.
I give her a faint smile, working to keep anything that might be considered 'sarcastic' out of it. "Here I am, Mother."
"What have I told you about going out onto the roof this close to sunset?" she demands, shoving a few errant hairs away from her face. I open my mouth to respond, but it seems to have been a rhetorical question, because she runs right over me. "Lock up your window and come downstairs. Tall Link is helping your father bar the door."
I scowl at the scuffed wood floor as she leaves. Tall Link is spending the night with us. That's just wonderful.
Ever since the Hero Chosen by the Gods had defeated the Dark Lord, parents had taken to naming every fair-haired boy Link in honor of the hero and in hope that their child would receive even a tiny portion of the first Link's tremendous courage. In more recent years, more and more children are named Link as the world becomes more and more desperate for a hero to rise up and fight the monsters that inhabit the night. So far, none have.
There are three Links in Ordon Village, so the people decided to give us secondary, descriptive names to tell us apart in casual speech. Tall Link is, well, tall. I think there was talk of calling him Heroic Link, but someone decided that was a little bit too presumptuous.
Tall Link has shining, golden hair and bright, blue eyes that pierce you and seem to promise that you'll always be safe so long as he's around. He works at the farmi with the oxen, so his shoulders are broad and his muscles hard, and his torso tapers down into a lean and narrow waist.
Sometimes, he stays the night, because he's courting my sister, Ilia, and wants to protect her. I hate it when he stays, because every time I see him, something goes off inside of me. I feel so small and insignificant around him, but at the same time, I never want him to leave my sight.
I turn back to the window and take one last look across the village. The rest of the small, wooden houses are already tightly barred, though the water wheel still turns, and at the far end, the shepherd is herding the last of the oxen into their pen. I swing the thick, wooden shutters closed, locking them tight with two parallel, iron bars. The thump they make when they fall into place sounds terribly final, and my room falls into darkness but for the dim candlelight streaming in from the hallway.
With quick, quiet steps, I thread my way across the unseen floor and exit the room, shutting the door behind me. I take the waxy candle from the holder set into the wall and carry it with me as I hurry down the short flight of curving steps. My father and Tall Link have just finished wedging the heavy oak and iron bar into place across the door when I step off the stairs. My mother is rattling one of the locks on the kitchen window, making sure it's sturdy, and my sister sits by the dimming fire. Soon, it will die out completely and leave us sitting in darkness.
Tall Link sees me as he turns around, brushing dust from his hands. "Ah, Sleepy Link. Good to see you, man."
My face flushes both from seeing him in his sleeveless work shirt and from the sound of my descriptive name leaving his mouth. I sleep through morning chores a few times – alright, maybe more than a few – and suddenly, I'm Sleepy Link, and no one will let me forget it. They almost named me Lazy Link or Stupid Link, but those options were determined to be too demeaning. Sometimes, my mother says I should've been called Mouthy Link.
"Hello, Tall Link," I mumble to my feet, and Ilia giggles. I know she sees how red my cheeks get every time I come close to Tall Link. Thankfully, though, the older boy hasn't noticed, and she's too kind to mention it to him.
"Blow out the candle," my mother orders me, sweeping around the counter that separates the small kitchen from the rest of the room. The last embers of the hearth turn her face red as she sits down on the padded chair across from my sister. Tall Link joins Ilia on the battered couch, wrapping his arm around her and using his other hand to brush the curl of her brown bangs, the same color as our mother's, from her face. I perch on the warm stones beside the fire, and my father remains by the door, listening.
I blow out the candle with a quick puff of air at the same time as the last glow fades from the embers. The house is plunged into a vast, complete darkness. I sink into it as I would sink into my bed, tension dripping away from my limbs. We will wait here for a few hours, not speaking, barely moving, and if all seems quiet outside, we will retire to our beds.
After light, sound is the quickest way to draw the attention of the monsters.
Only a few minutes later, my mouth aches to open and spew forth some sort of comment, some quick, flighty words to break through the barrier of silence. I clamp my lips shut and then wrap one hand around my face. Eventually, I fall into a sort of trance, statue-like, listening to the sound of my family's breathing.
Suddenly, a sharp, piercing scream breaks the spell. The cry lashes through the air, spiraling on the winter wind as it is carried throughout the entire village. I hear my father curse, hear Tall Link leap up from the couch. His footsteps clatter across the floor, and the door swings open, letting in a gust of cold air.
"What are you doing?" my mother hisses, half-rising from her seat.
"Someone's in trouble," my father replies. He snatches up the wooden staff leaning beside the door and lunges out into the open night. Tall Link is right behind him, hammer in hand.
I stand up, uncertain of what I should do. I take three halting steps towards the door and then begin to move a little faster. "Link, stop," my mother orders harshly.
I reach the exit of our house and pause just before the threshold. The village outside is black as pitch and still like potted soil. I gather myself, pulling air deep into my lungs. My foot lifts and prepares to slide across the divider between safety and the unknown, my heart hammering in my chest.
A silhouette appears before me out of nowhere. I can make out its bumpy outline from the red glow coming out of its eye sockets. It seems to have horns curling up from its head, and a low growl rumbles through the empty space between us.
Every line in my body freezes, and I forget how to breathe. The beating of my heart overpowers everything, my senses, my thoughts, my body. I need to…I need to…What do I need to do?
A scream rips through the house. It slashes through the strings holding my muscles taunt. I nearly collapse from the sudden release of tension, but instead I stumble a step towards the door and seize the door, slamming it shut in the monster's face.
A warm, orange light fills the room, and I spin around, eyes wide, chest shuddering, and limbs like jellied Chuchus. My mother holds a candle aloft, and the tremble in her hand makes shadows dance across the walls. Ilia has pressed herself into the back of the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees.
Something crashes and bangs against the door, and the wooden panel shakes within its frame. I leap back, nearly stumbling in my haste to put distance between myself and that…that thing on the other side of the door.
"What do we do?" I squeak. I scurry across the room and skirt around the low table to stand beside the dead fire.
My mother shushes me vehemently, her face a mask of poorly concealed panic illuminated by candlelight.
"Shouldn't you put out the candle?" my sister asks in a quaking voice. "Maybe it will lose interest and go away."
My mother looks down at the tiny flame, torn between the comfort the light brings and the possible safety the darkness might give us. A sharp crack interrupts her deliberation, and our heads snap around to stare at the door in unison. My mother lifts the candle a little higher, and its light falls on a long splinter running down the center of the wood.
I feel sick. Violently, physically sick. Viciously so. My guts are twisted in knots secured by serrated knives. Some of the twisty, ropey bits are trying to worm their way up my throat and out my mouth. I clamp my teeth shut and close my eyes as I fall to the empty side of the couch. I tuck my feet under me and bury my head beneath my arms. The pounding continues, punctuated occasionally by loud cracks.
Thought has fled my mind, place and time close on its heels. The darkness on the back of my eyelids swirls ceaselessly, and two, glowing red orbs have been burned into my mind's-eye. They mock me, threatening death.
Suddenly, what feels like months later, the pounding stops, the new silence interrupted by a quick series of thuds and a shout. "Ran?" my mother calls my father's name, and I open my eyes just in time to see her rush across the room, her candle trailing flame, and the door opens the moment before she reaches it. My father stands, panting, in the frame, staff raised defensively. Tall Link waits just behind him with a dark, limp form draped over his shoulder.
My father pushes into the house and waves Tall Link in. the blonde man staggers under the weight of his burden, a young, unconscious man. As soon as he's through, my father kicks the door shut but doesn't stop gripping his staff in his hands. The round knob at the top is coated in a strange, black ichor.
"Put him on the couch," my father orders, gesturing across the room. With his free arm, he helps Tall Link hold up the limp form, and together, they stagger across the floor. I hop up, head still swirling a little bit, and scurry out of the way.
The light from the candle falls on the limp man's face. He seems to be about the same age as Tall Link, a few years older than me. His skin is a dark, nut-brown color, in stark contrast to the golden blonde hair falling out from beneath the white cloth wrapped round his head. He wears a skintight, black and blue garb, a strange, red, eye-like symbol sewn into its front. A long braid trails down his back, the lower half tied up in the same kind of cloth that's wrapped around his head. There's a white shawl looped around his neck, pulled up over his nose.
I stare as they gently lower him to the couch. He is lean from his shoulders down to his ankles, and every line of his body is taunt with muscle. His chest rises and falls slowly, and I get a closer look at the symbol on the front of his suit. A long tear drips down from the outline of the eye, and three triangles come off the top like eyelashes.
"Who is he?" I ask, unable to take my eyes off the delicate lines of his face. His long lashes. The thin ridge of his nose. I wonder what his lips look like under his shawl, and my face heats up.
"I think he's part of an embassy from the royal family," my father replies. "He was at the edge of town with two royal guards, swamped by Stalfos."
"Where are the guards?" Ilia asks. She moves to stand beside Tall Link, and he wraps his large arm around her shoulders. She leans up against his chest.
My father shakes his head. "Dead when we got there. This one," he nods down at the prone man, "was holding three of them off on his own. He took out two of them – two! – but the third landed a blow on his head, and he went down just as we got there."
"How did you get away from the last one?" Ilia wonders breathlessly, staring up at Tall Link with awe in her big, green eyes.
"I battered at it with my staff while Tall Link pulled him up." My father flops down into one of the chairs, rubbing a hand through his black hair. He still hasn't let go of his staff.
"You engaged with a Stalfos?" my mother gasps, practically clutching her heart. Legend says that the Stalfos are the reanimated bones of travelers trapped in the Lost Woods from ancient times. They're fearsome beasts, nearly tireless, and one of the deadliest monsters found in the night.
"I'm fine," my father promises. "We're both fine."
My mother goes to him and lays her hand on his arm. He pats it gently, smiling up at her tiredly.
The man on the couch groans and shifts, and the five of us instantly pull ourselves to attention. I lean my hands against the arm rest the couch near his feet, and for some reason, my stomach jumps nervously.
The man's eyes flutter open, and I inhale slightly. His irises are a smoldering red, halfway between maroon and blood. They seem to struggle to focus, and then they lock onto my face. It's as if my knees turn to water suddenly, and the only thing that keeps me standing is my grip on the couch arm.
"Where am I?" he murmurs in a smoky voice.
My father leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. "You're in Ordon Village. This is my home."
The man slowly levers himself upright, wincing as he turns his head to look around. "Where are Captain Lu-on and Lieutenant Russo?"
"I'm sorry." My father drops his gaze to the ground. "They didn't make it."
"Shit," the man sighs. "They were good men."
"What were you doing outside at night?" Tall Link asks. He moves forward a step, Ilia still on his arm. The man does a nearly imperceptible double take when he sees Tall Link, and I droop slightly with disappointment. Of course Tall Link would take all his attention.
"We thought we could make it." He hesitates, sighing. "I thought we could make it. I was wrong."
He sits up fully, leaning back against the side of the couch, and reaches up to pull his shawl down. His mouth is as delicate as the rest of his face, and he has high, pronounced cheekbones. His expression is downcast, and his eyes look guilty.
"You're a royal ambassador, aren't you?" my father asks.
The man nods. "The king sent me on a mission to the desert to meet with the new Gerudo tribe that's been established."
"I thought that the cannon at Lake Hylia was the only way into the desert." The words are out of my mouth before I know it, and I think I turn embarrassingly red when the man looks up at me. I quickly glance away from his burning eyes.
"Past this village and the forest, there's an almost unknown pass through the mountain range. It comes out closer to the settlement than the cannon does."
I can't believe he just talked to me. I can't believe that smoky voice was directed in my direction. Every part of my face is on fire, from the tip of my chin to the points of my ears.
"Oh," I mumble and reclaim my eyes from his.
"What's your name?" Ilia asks, breaking the awkward silence that has fallen. Or maybe it's just awkward to me.
He turns his molten gaze to her. "My name is Sheik."
Enia: Most Zelda fics are written in past tense, 3rd person, so I decided to try something new and use present tense 1st person. I hope you readers like reading something a little bit different. Updates are probably going to be a bit slow, because I really want to try to take my time writing and editing the chapters so that they're the best they can be.