Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The thoughts, opinions, etc. of the characters do not necessarily reflect those of the author.
Cover art by LunarMew. Used with permission. Check out my profile for a link to her other amazing artwork.
Chapter I: A Storm of Death
The feast that was laid upon the great oak table of the king's private dining hall was among the best Hyrule had seen in years. The handful of foreign guests sat before a plethora of fine roasted meat that included samples of every creature from loach to dodongo, a rare treat that had only very recently become available. One of the chefs had even figured out how to prepare a peahat. The visiting Gerudo supplemented the savory delicacies with offerings of their own. There were bowls of dates, raisins, heaps of thick, flat bread topped with seeds, spicy paste made from beans in every color possible, and best of all strong wine from the depths of the Gerudo Fortress.
The small room was overflowing with merriment. The King of Hyrule, deep in his fourth glass of wine, was laughing at nearly everything. Two fair Gerudo danced before him. They had tied various bells to their arms with violet silk, and their graceful movements shook them in time to a traditional folk tune. These were no mere dancers, however. They were so much more than bronze-skinned beauties posing seductively for their future king. These were the Gerudo, warrior-maidens of the desert. As the storm outside raged, scimitars hissed through the air of the darkened, candle-lit room. They whirled about the dancers, brushing right up against their skin, but never drawing blood. The blades leaped through the air and fell back into the dancers' hands in perfect rhythm. The King of Hyrule clapped along gleefully, and even Ganondorf, King of the Gerudo allowed a grin to play over his face.
The only person who looked uncomfortable was the young Nabooru, Ganondorf's fierce lieutenant. She shifted in her seat constantly, eyes darting all over the room. She was still a girl, however, and it was her first time in the city, so all was forgiven on the festive evening.
"This will be a great day in history, my friend," the King of Hyrule boomed over the spirited flute tune. "The Gerudo shall live in peace with Hyrule at last."
"I look forward to the day that we may live peacefully in Hyrule as well," Ganondorf replied, raising his glass to his lips.
"It is coming, it is coming." The King of Hyrule thumped his goblet down next to his plate of marinated cuccoo. "One day, my friend. I promise. For now, your maidens here will live as princesses in my castle, until my people can see these noble warriors are not so uncivilized as they believe."
Integrating the women into castle life had been a tricky business. All had heard the whispered rumors of what they had done, how they mated. On more than one occasion one of their number had woken up to find her bed covered in dung. They were served last, and their furnishings were poor. However, the Gerudo's tongues were gracious, and the King's lash was sharp. It was not long before most in the castle had developed at least a grudging respect for the women.
One of Ganondorf's retinue smiled up at the king, her blazing red hair falling elegantly behind her.
"My sisters and I are sure to continue to enjoy the hospitality of your castle, Your Majesty."
Princess Zelda saw no more. A firm hand clamped onto her shoulder.
"We leave. Now," a dark voice whispered. It was her attendant, her bodyguard, Impa. Zelda turned and looked up into her red eyes. Impa's eyes were always intense, but at that time they appeared to shine with the very soul of Din. Zelda held her ground.
"He is coming," she said. "This is when the light from the forest parts the clouds." Though her tone was soft, it was firm with the presence of conviction.
Before she knew what had happened, she was sprawled on the ground, pain blossoming from her cheek. Impa had hit her. She tried to rub at her face, but the tall woman grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her to her feet.
"No time," Impa growled. Zelda struggled to keep her feet under her as they raced through the corridors of the castle.
"He's coming, he's coming. I have to get it to him." She was crying now, but she still had the presence of mind not to mention the Ocarina by name. No one could know. The Gerudo had infiltrated every level of the castle by now. Anyone could be working for them. She would not let a careless word doom them all.
If Impa noticed her restraint, she did not show it. She merely kept running, scooping the princess up with a disgusted grimace when it was apparent she could not keep up on her own.
Zelda wrapped her arms tight around the Sheikah's broad shoulders. She was clad in a steel breastplate as usual. Even before Zelda knew the truth, when the armor had just been a ceremonial artifact, she had found comfort in it. The armor meant that Impa would protect her and keep her safe no matter what. The guards wore armor too, but it wasn't the same. She did not know them. She could not trust them as much as she trusted Impa.
Once again she found herself taking comfort in the armor. Here was a woman who could stand against the desert thieves. Zelda had only once seen her use her sword. She was putting an overconfident guard back in his place. Zelda was awestruck by the absolute ferocity that had come from her normally soft-spoken nanny. Impa was the best, and she would protect her.
Sounds of battle assaulted them as they fled. Zelda could hear the battle cries of the Gerudo, screaming Knights of Hyrule, the dreadful sound of metal smashing into metal. It was as if the entire castle had erupted into war moments after they had fled the garden.
She could only imagine what had happened to her father. The blade dancers could have easily had his head before the guards could react. She had known Ganondorf would turn traitor, but her father had laughed off her warnings.
"The Gerudo are no less people than you or I," he had explained to her in his slow, patient tone. "They are a proud people who have suffered in the harsh desert for countless generations. I am honored that they have chosen to join Hyrule, and I welcome them with open arms."
So much for that. Now the king lay dead, and the 'proud people' were massacring her subjects.
The Sheikah halted mid-stride. Startled, Zelda looked up to see two Gerudo warriors standing before them. Instead of the lavish gowns that they had been wearing about the castle the past month they stood half-naked, saying nothing. Their drawn scimitars were the only statement they needed.
Impa dropped the princess to the floor, but before she could raise the metal blade she kept at the small of her back, Malkir rounded the corner behind them, spear in hand. He was the head of Zelda's personal guard, and she had spent many an hour getting to know him as she read in her courtyard.
"Run," he barked over his heavy breath. Malkir's kind face was set in a fierce scowl. His missing pauldron and blood-spattered armor suggested what had happened to the rest of her guard. The man would show no quarter. Impa grabbed the princess and flew back the way they had come. The Gerudo started to pursue, but over Impa's shoulder Zelda saw Malkir charge forward to hold them off. The ground was red with blood by the time they rounded the corner, but Zelda could not tell whose it was.
Finally they came to the stables. Within seconds, Impa had the princess mounted on her white stallion. It had already been saddled, and the stableboy held the reigns. Impa mounted behind the princess and kicked it off at a fierce gallop.
Zelda trembled as they emerged into the storm, but it was not from the sheets of freezing rain or from the tumultuous thunder. She could feel him, the evil man from the desert. He was in the wind and the clouds and the flames that rose above Hyrule Castle, and he was hunting for her.
Townsmen scattered as the horse careened through the narrow streets, but Zelda could barely hear their outbursts.
I am coming, little girl. Hyrule and its fortunes are mine. Soon I will have you, and more, the Triforce.
She could hear his coarse voice echoing through her mind. She clung to the horse as tightly as she could. She had to get away, out of his city. Every gust of wind was a draft of his dark breath. Every thunderclap was the sound of his fierce horse, drawing nearer and nearer. He was right behind them, gaining with every second. He would have them. He would get the Triforce...
And then they were out of the gates. Link was standing there. She only caught a glimpse of the young boy. He stood tall and strong despite the pouring rain. With a deft sidestep, he only barely made it out of the path of the horse. She did not know what twist of fate brought him to that spot at that time. It did not matter. He was their last hope. In an act of desperation she hurled her keepsake, the Ocarina of Time, at the boy, the fountain of light who would oppose the darkness. Then he fell out of sight, and Zelda could only pray that he had received it.
The danger did not seem as pressing now that they were in the open field. Maybe it was because she knew that no Gerudo could ambush them. Maybe the sight of her hero had jarred her to her senses. In any case, the King of the Gerudo—the King of Thieves—did not have them. He probably had not even left the castle yet.
Zelda hugged Impa's muscled arm and whispered ardent prayers to the Goddess of Wisdom. She knew not where they were headed or what had happened to her father. Through the terror and the chaos, she could be certain of only one thing: her nightmares had come true at last.
They rode the entire night. There was neither sleep nor food for the young princess. There was only the rhythmic jostling of Owlan, their proud horse, straining for more and more speed.
It was not Impa who called the halt, but Owlan himself. The early dawn light illuminated the vast forest before him, and the horse stopped directly in front of it. He reared up, shaking his head and whinnying. Zelda didn't blame him. She had heard tales of the Lost Woods and the monsters it housed. She could see shadows moving within, flickering eerily in the dark grove before her.
"Impa, he's scared. Don't make him go in there," Zelda pleaded, patting the horse's neck. She knew how absolutely stupid it sounded. Ganondorf wanted them, he wanted her ocarina, and she didn't have time to be worried about the horse. But what Impa was doing was cruel.
To Zelda's surprise, the Sheikah slid from the saddle.
"He is wise," she murmured. "These woods are no place for a horse."
"So, we're just leaving him?"
Impa crouched down to look the princess in the eye.
"You tell me, princess. Are we?" The older woman gazed unblinking at Zelda, who shifted despite all of Impa's frequent admonishments about purpose and self-presence.
"Um... if we can't take him with us..."
"Tell me, what is the extent of Ganondorf's sorcery?"
"He... he can make fire," she stammered. She had no idea what Impa was getting at. The Sheikah always used these roundabout questions to come to her point, and it was getting annoying. Zelda was tired and hungry and did not want to play her games.
"Is that all?" Impa showed no sign of wavering, no hint that there was anything else beside her question that mattered.
"I don't know," Zelda blurted out.
"You're right." Impa nodded in approval. "You don't. I don't know." Zelda felt a hand press lightly on her shoulder. "So given that we have absolutely no idea what he's capable of, are we going to let this horse run free?"
"You mean..." She couldn't finish the sentence. The thought was just too horrible to contemplate. She could not deny where Impa was headed though. The lore that the Sacred Family was privy to was filled with tales of magic-users with unbelievable powers of perception. To one such as a servant of the demon-lords of old, to find there horse that they had ridden for hours would be as good as finding them.
"The choice is yours, princess." Impa rose and moved to the edge of the forest. Her sword lay on the ground where she had crouched. "Choose quickly."