Tight Rope
By Lindsay R. Honosky
Prologue
"Hide, Sheik, now!" Mother is crying, there's red stuff all over her dress. Something's wrong. Something is terribly wrong. I don't want to hide; dad is outside with all the screaming, and he needs my help! I'm the man of the house, after all; men don't hide when there's trouble. Still, I listen and get under the floorboard, my mother giving me a face that leaves no room for argument. I've never seen her so scared; it makes me feel scared, but only for a moment; men also do not get scared. She leans down low, rocking Misha back and forth, "Shh, there now, that's a good girl." I don't understand why mother is rocking her so; Misha is a good baby and rarely cries. Mother hands her to me, gently, "Sheik, stay down here, no matter what you see, no matter what you here, stay down here!" Before I can say anything she slams the door above me, moving a chest on top so I can't get out.
I don't like this game; the cellar is dark and scary, and father says there are things down here that I'm not ready to understand yet. I can feel those things, like a million eyes staring at me all at once, but then I think I'm being silly and start to rock Misha. She is a good baby, and I'm her big brother. Father told me brothers protect their sisters, but he also said I should protect mother if anything ever happens to him...
There's a loud bang upstairs, and I hear her scream. People are coming into our home, bad people, their swords shining in the broken moonlight. Mother shouts, "Stay back!" And I try to scream, but my voice doesn't work and I'm shaking. I tell myself it's because I'm cold; why is it so cold in the cellar? There's a laugh, and a woman says, "Looks like there is a bitch here after all." The accent is thick; I can't place it. The sound of gold and jewels clink together as the voice moves across the floor. Another footstep, this one heavier, enters the door, "Aveil, leave."
"But Mikyle-!"
"Leave. Now." His voice was deep, and scary, but men do not get scared. The others left, and for some reason that made me feel worse. I saw mother taking some steps back, the man moving closer to her. I could barely make out his face through the floor, but he pushed the table over and it covered up most of the boards. I heard him laugh, and a cold fist grabbed my stomach, "There is no one to save you, woman. You are the last of your kind. Surely you do not wish to become extinct."
My mother spat, "Do what you will; I'll never serve your master!"
"Regretful." The room grew hotter. There was a light, blinding after being in the dark for so long. There were some mumbled words, a blinding flash, and a horrible scream.
Silence. A soft thud. The sound of the man leaving. I could hear their horses outside, and in gutteral language the man ordered his people to do something. Then the sound of glass breaking shattered the silence of the house, and soon the smell of smoke and the glimmer of fire woke something inside me. They were burning down my home. Mother and Father were dead, and I was alone. No, I had Misha, but if I didn't get us out of here we would be dead.
I looked around; there was nothing. No windows, no extra door. Mother had blocked the only exit. Why did she do that? Did she know what was going to happen? Something wet rolled down my cheek, and I realized I was crying. That made me angry; crying would get me nowhere. But how do I get out of here? I felt the burning, and the fire grew, and all I could feel was the heat. That horrible heat, it almost felt cold, and for some reason the world kept growing darker. Misha was crying now, which made me feel guilty. Now I've scared her, but I was scared too. Why was it getting so cold? The room was getting darker, and it felt as if I were spinning, then floating, then...then nothing...
XXXXXXX
Kid...
Hey, kid...!
"Purlo, just leave them. They're almost dead anyway..."
"Quiet! Do you have any idea what they are? Look at his eyes, their-oh!" A strange man was looking down on me, with big blue eyes and funny shaped eyebrows. He annoyed me, and I wanted to tell him to go away but my throat was to dry. He kept talking though, "Good thing you're awake, kiddo, or else Lisa here might've made me leave you behind and just taken the girl."
My heart jumped, "Misha-!" I coughed, everything hurt. Where was I? The place was to flat, to green to be home, and I'd never seen this man before. He was garbed in a green hood the covered most of his head, with funny shoes and a yellow jump suit. Weird white frilly things came out of his sleeves, and he had patches all over his jacket. Behind him was a heavy-set woman with an ugly face, dark hair and a darker mustache, though she covered very little of her overflowing frame. In her arms I found my sister, and I tried to stand when the man pushed me down on the grass again.
His face twisted in a strange smile, "Whoa, little fella, you take it easy. I don't know where you came from, but you just fell out of the sky in a whirlwind of sparkling dust, and from what I can tell you don't just get up and walk around after something like that."
He was confusing me, my head hurt, Misha wasn't in my arms, and I was getting angry. I slapped his hand away, "Give me back my sister! We have to get home, we-" Home. Was it even still there? I knew the answer even before I asked it, and became angry at myself. What were we going to do now?
"Hey now, don't make such a sad face." The man's hand rested on my shoulder, gently, "You don't worry about a thing. Luckily, you've found my merry band of misfits, and the more misfits we have, the better my show!"
"S-show?" This time when I tried to stand, he helped me to my feet, lifting me up as though I were no more than a doll. Which, I guess for a man his age an eight-year-old doesn't weigh much.
He seemed happy I'd asked, "Why, you're looking at the best traveling circus in all of Hyrule, kid! Purlo's Proposterous Pauper Parade! And you are exactly the kind of thing that I need in my show."
"Purlo! What are you doing?" A man's voice shouted from up farther, and when I looked I couldn't believe my eyes. He was older than me by about ten years, but his eyes were the same crimson as mine, and mother's and father's. Though his hair was purple, and he didn't have an earring on either ear, he looked like he was someone from my village! Yet as he spoke, I knew he wasn't, "How long do you expect to leave the boy out here? After what he's been through? You saw the village up north; anyone who survived a Gerudo raid like that needs rest, not your endless prattling!" He whirrled around and turned his wrath upon the fat woman, "And you! You horrible cow! How could you even think of leaving him behind? Just because you want a daughter doesn't mean-!"
"Okay, okay! Cool down, Kafei, I was just bringing him in." Purlo said, waving a hand as if to bat away his rage. He shot me one last grin before walking over the the fat woman Lisa, who had handed Misha over to Kafei before disappearing into a covered wagon painted in all sorts of strange colors and symbols.
The man with our eyes sighed, and I watched his face transform from fearful rage to a calming yet worried glance. He turned to me, Misha crooning in his arms, and asked, "What's your name, little guy?"
"Gerudo? How did they make it here? They live so far away-"
"The King doesn't think it necessary to protect lands in between boarders," there was a bitter note in his voice, and his eyes hardened if for just a moment. Then he asked my name again.
"S-Sheik, my n-n-n-name is...is..." I hiccupped. My throat hurt. I don't want to cry, not in front of a stranger. Not ever. I bit my lip, but that didn't help, and I felt the tears tracing my jaw just as the blood from my split lip dripped down onto my shirt. Then I was wrapped in warmth, and I saw Misha's sleeping face in front of me, and I realized the man was hugging me.
"Don't worry, little Sheik. I'll protect you; you have my word." For the longest time he held me there, and I cried like Misha did when she was scared or lonely or both. Father would never forgive me, but father was dead and I had not protected mother and everyone we ever knew was dead too. So I cried, and the man held me, and Misha slept on.