The Legend of Zelda: Paradise Calling

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Chapter 1: Ambush

The covered wagon appeared over the broad crest of a hill in the endless field, its canvas peaking like that of a great sailing ship as it crowned the grassy ridge and began its leisurely journey down the leeward side. It swayed gently and silently as it was pulled along the well-worn road that carved its way across the great plains of Hyrule Field, with only a mild groan of protest from the rear axle whenever it encountered a gopher hole or a protruding stone in the road. Though it was in desperate need of a new coat of paint and the canvas had turned a bleached yellow from weather and age, the ancient wagon was in fine repair considering it had been built nearly half a century prior.

A great mare of powerful Gerudo lineage led it, an equine masthead hitched to the wagon's prow. Its powder-white mane and golden chestnut coat shone brightly under the late morning sun, courtesy of the careful grooming given by its owner only candlemarks prior. It strode proudly even burdened as it was, its long, high neck drooping only slightly with exertion in the sweltering heat.

A young woman sat on the bench of the wagon, reins held loosely in her long fingers. She wore a simple cotton shift and a long lavender skirt that reached to her bare ankles. A bright yellow neckerchief and its accompanying decorative dragon's head woggle sat on the bench beside her, temporarily discarded along with a heavy worker's apron. Sweat had already started to soak a trio of dark 'V's beneath her arms and between her breasts, and her sleeves were rolled up well past her elbows, revealing a thin strip of fair skin that the sun had yet to bake to the healthy bronze of her forearms and face. A bright yellow sunhat was perched upon her head in order to shade her cobalt-blue eyes, and her work boots had been shucked and tucked carefully beneath the seat next to a well-oiled crossbow, allowing her long legs to swing freely. The most stunning physical feature to behold, however, was her hair; a rich, fiery crimson whose colors and hues rivaled those of a sailor's twilight. Her name was Malon Lon, and she was utterly miserable.

It was hot. As in, really hot. So hot that her simple working dress was clinging to her like a second skin. Her camisole was already soaked through with sweat, and her mane of auburn hair was matted to her head beneath her sunhat. The wind blew gently across the plains of Hyrule Field, but only strong enough for her to note and curse its fickle presence. She could feel the rivulets of sweat rolling down her cheeks and neck before soaking into her collar, doing little to cool her heated skin.

Upon reaching a relatively straight stretch of the road, Malon laid the reins down on her lap and plucked the broad-billed sunhat off of her head, using it to fan herself. It was one of those days, the kind where it seemed as if summer had come back to exact its final gasping vengeance on the kingdom before giving way to true autumn. Her almanac back at the ranch said that cooler days were supposedly just around the corner. She hoped it was right. In her opinion, a good, mild Hyrule winter couldn't arrive soon enough.

She sighed and drank deeply from her water flask, which had already become uncomfortably warm. Her clothes felt stifling, and the damp spot on her chest had already reached her belly. Replacing the hat upon her head and gripping the reins with one hand, she settled for peeling the sticky garment away from her chest and fanning herself with it instead, just to get some cooler air against her feverish skin. It helped, a little.

She wondered idly how Epona was holding up. The mare was strong – the strongest horse she had ever had the pleasure of rearing, in fact – and she seemed to be handling the heat quite well, but Malon knew that pulling the heavy wagon beneath today's sun had to be taking its toll on her. She hoped that they could reach the river soon so that Epona could have a well-earned drink. To be honest, she wouldn't mind one herself. Just the thought of dipping her cupped hands into the perpetually icy-cold Zora River and splashing her face was enough to help her bear the heat, at least for a little while longer.

Malon sighed again. "Just a little farther, Epona. Then we can take a small break," She reassured the mare.

Epona snorted and shook her mane, though it was a half-hearted gesture as they plodded along. Yes, the mare could definitely use a good drink and half a candlemark's rest, maybe a nice brushing while they were at it. Or maybe she could just dip her legs in the water for a few minutes. The idea tickled the back of her mind as they continued on, and as she continued to dwell on it she really couldn't find any reason that she shouldn't take a quick dip. The cool river would feel sooo good on her skin...

Her head jerked upright, and she blinked lazily before shaking her head and quietly chastising herself. To nod off daydreaming about dipping her feet in the river? Irresponsible. She rolled her shoulders and willed the wagon to travel faster.

Goddesses above, it was hot.

The sun hadn't even reached its zenith in the cloudless sky, and yet it cast everything about her in a blurry, humid haze, causing her to sometimes see bodies of water where none existed. Tricks of the light or playful spirits, she didn't know. What she did know was that if she continued on this road it should lead her right past the edge of the river where it swept closest to the road. In fact, just around the curve of this hill here...

Ah, She thought, and smiled brightly at the sight. There you are.

The river spread out before her, winding through the hills like a great dark snake for as far as the eye could see. The waters of the broad river swept down from the eastern foothills, bringing an endless supply of fresh, clean water to the lower fields. The bend here swept in so that the road was only several yards away, making it a popular spot to stop and water the horses for those few traders that plied the western routes. Luckily there was no one else in sight.

When they reached the edge of the river, it took her a moment to bring Epona to a complete stop. The mare was impatient. It could smell the water, it could see the water, so it didn't like having to wait for the water, but Malon brought her around skillfully before setting the wheelbrake.

"Calm down, girl," She said soothingly. "It would be just my luck if you got it into your head to drag the entire wagon into the river,"

Epona did not answer, merely staring with a quiet longing at the river's edge as her owner went about the business of securing the wagon. Malon decided to forgo her boots and sunhat and lowered herself to the ground gently, mindful of sharp rocks. She hummed a wordless tune and ran a calming hand along the great mare's flank as Epona cantered in place impatiently. Within seconds she had unhooked Epona's harness from the tug loops, a full decade of experience lending her the swiftness she desired. As soon as the horse sensed it was free it trotted forward, eagerly stepping into the river and stooping its long neck to drink.

Malon followed to the river's edge and was delighted to find her favorite drinking spot untouched; a flat shalestone that extended a meter out over the water, allowing her a dry perch to kneel and drink from. She bent low, dipping her fingers deep into the swiftly flowing river. She noted with interest that the water was definitely warmer than she remembered – a testament to the unnatural seasonal temperatures, she thought – but it was still pleasantly cool against her fingers. She dipped her hands deeper, allowing the water to cool the pulse in her wrists, then cupped her hands and brought the precious liquid to her mouth, closed her eyes, savored it as it flowed past her lips and spilled over her chin.

Delicious.

She drank two more handfuls before standing, having decided that it was too laborious a process. She allowed herself a smile as she stepped daintily into the river, first one foot, then the other. She felt just like a little girl again, when she was first allowed to go with her father on a trip to Lake Hylia. She had been afraid at first, but then she grew to love it, shrieking and laughing and splashing the water in all directions. She had loved to go diving, to find tiny crabs or pretty shells that she would eagerly bring back for her father's inspection like valuable treasure. Her father, having spent all of his life landbound, had warned her about the many dangers of deep water, and had seemed anxious whenever she had immersed herself past her waist. Luckily, Malon had not inherited her father's phobia of the deep, and relished every rare opportunity she was given to swim.

She lifted her skirt to mid-thigh as she stepped deeper in the river, even though in reflection it was probably a silly thing to do considering what she was planning, finally dropping the hem as the water flowed past her knees. It clung to her long legs, swirling effervescently with the current. She waded in several meters until the river rose up to envelope her waist, soaking the hem of her blouse. The current was a gentle but persistent pressure, and the pebbles on the riverbed were smooth and soft on the soles of her feet. The water felt wonderful against her skin, but even as she tried to enjoy it, she was reminded uncomfortably of the sun beating down on her upper half. She felt that she would not be totally satisfied if she was only able to cool half of her body. She glanced behind her towards the road almost guiltily, but her courage was bolstered when she saw that there was still no one else in sight.

Well, why not?

All pretense of propriety forgotten, she knelt in the shallows and bent forward, luxuriating in its liquid coolness as she lowered herself, shivering slightly as the water flowed past her belly, breasts, shoulders, and finally her throat. Epona drank and watched her curiously from the river's edge, but seemed to feel no desire to follow her owner deeper into the water. On a whim, Malon inhaled deeply and completely submerged herself, allowing the river to flow over her and cleanse the sweat from her body.

Everything felt the same as it had when she was younger. The tingle of bubbles trapped against her scalp, the slight sense of pressure on her eyes and ears. The old thrill of excitement came back tenfold, and she propelled herself with a swift kick into deeper water. It was a different world beneath the surface of the river, a world where the shadows mingled with the light, touched it and played with it in ways that seemed surreal, dreamlike. The smooth stones of the river bottom glinted in an earthy rainbow of blacks and browns and reds, and the occasional bulbous fish could be seen making its home in the shallow eddies, staring back in quiet awe at this awkward intruder in their aquatic realm. It was a dreamworld, like the faerie tales her mother had told her as a little girl, and she cherished every second of it.

Finally, the desire for air ended her brief sojourn. She broke the surface with the grace (in her mind, at least) of a Zora princess and swam back towards the shallows, whipping the hair back from her face with a quick toss. As soon as her feet touched the smooth bottom, she leaned forward again and allowed the river to flow directly between her lips.

Mmm. Drinking straight from the river... nothing like it in the world.

As soon as she had drunk her fill she stepped from the river, intent on retrieving a brush for Epona, but stopped when she caught sight of a man's legs standing on the far side of the wagon. She froze instantly, like a wild hare caught in the gaze of a hungry wolfos, but the man couldn't see her from where he was standing. From what she could see, he seemed to be inspecting the wagon.

Malon cursed herself for leaving the crossbow in the wagon. She didn't have many options. She couldn't just ignore the man and hope he wandered away, and she wouldn't be able to get Epona hooked back up without him realizing she was there. Abandoning the wagon was out of the question as well. Talking to him looked like the only available option.

Her decision made, Malon affected an air of friendly indifference. "Can I help you, sir?" She called out, crossing her arms across her chest, uncomfortably aware of the curves of her chest and waist in her wet clothes.

The man's legs tensed, then cautiously made their way around towards the front of the wagon. Malon's eyes swept over the man as he stepped into view, and she didn't like what she saw. Like many of the poorer denizens of Hyrule in the wake of Ganondorf's coup d'etat, he was dressed rather shabbily, wearing anything he could scavenge or steal. In point of fact, his trousers and threadbare coat were in desperate need of tailoring, but he had somehow managed to get his hands on a relatively clean dandy's top-hat. The effect was absurd, like dressing a rodent for a palace masque... not that Malon had ever had the pleasure of attending a masque, of course. Except for the spotless hat, nothing on the man looked as if it had been washed in months, and the smell coming off of him alone – even at this distance – was enough to confirm her suspicions. A vagabond, possibly an outlaw, or a bandit even. Whatever he was, Malon sensed trouble.

The man offered a toothy grin as Malon approached the wagon on the opposite side. She held back a grimace at what passed for teeth in the man's mouth. Hygienic he was not. "G'day tya," He said, tipping his hat. His eyes darted from her, to Epona, to the wagon, and finally back to her. "Fine lookin' wagon thar. Don s'pose you'd be in a helpful mood, woudja? See, me an a few o' the boys were makin' fer Labrynna, an' we could really use a ride."

"Seems like you managed to get this far just fine by walking," Malon said coolly.

A second man stepped out from behind the first, and Malon tensed. He was shorter and if possible even scruffier than the first man. "We jus' wanna lift darlin', is all. It's jus' so awfully hot out here..."

Malon's smile was saccharine sweet. "Sorry, but my Daddy always said to never give rides to strangers."

"Then let's get more acquainted." A third man said, stepping out from behind the wagon on her left side.

Malon cursed herself again for her carelessness. She had to give them credit. She hadn't noticed how many of them had actually approached the wagon while she was swimming. Careless and stupid. They had probably been close by, just waiting for some poor unsuspecting soul to stop and take a drink from the river before they moved in, and she had walked right into it.

The third man was still walking towards her, while the second man was slowly making his was around to the right, moving into what her father would call a pincer manoeuvre. Her left hand twitched, and she glanced towards the wagon. She could see her crossbow, stowed beneath the wagon's bench, out of sight of the bandits. But the bandits – and that was exactly what they were, no matter what garbage they spewed about being downtrodden wanderers – were much too close for comfort. Would they back off when faced with a weapon? Would she even be able to grab it and bring it to bear before they overpowered her?

She moved just as the second man was about to come around the harnessing shafts, leaping up and scrambling onto the bench. Her fingers closed around the wooden haft of the crossbow and she silently thanked her father for those years of practice as she drew back the lever to charge the bolt. The man in the top hat was yelling and reaching for a dagger, but it would be the man behind her – the third man who had come around the back of the wagon – that was closest, and thus, her immediate worry.

Her first shot was hastily fired as she spun, but her aim was true. The nearest bandit was already halfway up the wagon behind her when the bolt crossed the distance between them and imbedded itself in his chest. He fell back and collapsed to the ground with a surprised gurgle, and Malon was drawing the second bolt in place when she felt a sudden harsh tug on the back of her dress and was yanked bodily from the wagon. She cried out as the crossbow was ripped from her hands and she was dragged to the ground, then hauled to her feet, her arms held tightly behind her by one of the men. More bandits appeared around her as she struggled, until finally she was surrounded by a small posse.

"Dumb bitch shot Jerod dead." One of the men called out from the other side of the wagon.

"Never did like 'im very much anyway. Just means more for us anyhow," The man in the top-hat – presumably their leader – laughed, then turned to one of the other men. "Go see what we caught ourselves this time. I'm feelin' lucky today."

"Keep away from my wagon, and LET ME GO!" Malon cried as she wrenched against her captor's vice-like grip.

One of the men brought out his knife and waved it threateningly beneath her throat. "You look awfully hot, baby," He said, aiming lower and drawing the flat of the blade between her breasts. "Meybe ya should think about takin' off some dem wet clothes before ya faint."

Her rebuttal was a wad of spit in the man's eye. The rest of the group dissolved into chortling laughter and catcalls as the man spluttered and wiped at his face with a grimy sleeve. The man holding her had let her go as he keeled over onto his hands and knees and seemed to be having trouble drawing breath, but there were still too many of them surrounding her for her to risk making a break for it. "Ah, looks like we gots ourselves a real fiesty one," One of them called out.

The man with the knife became furious, his face mottled with rage. He advanced, holding the knife out as if about to stick a wild boar. "Fuckin' little—"

"Hey boss," One of the men in the wagon called out, causing the knife wielding thug to stop in his tracks. Greed beat rage with these men, it seemed.

The man in the wagon appeared with a bottle of milk in his hand, which he tossed carelessly over the side. It shattered on the ground, spilling the precious white liquid everywhere. "Ain't nothin' back here but a buncha shit in sacks and some boxes full of milk."

Their leader looked slightly disappointed. "What kinda shit?"

"Shit shit."

Top-hat planted his hands on his hips and frowned at Malon as if she had done him some personal injustice. "Why're you cartin' shit and milk around fer?"

Stall! "It's fertilizer," Malon said, but this only seemed to confuse the poor men around her. She desperately resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. "It helps people's crops grow. I was on my way to New Ordon to sell them."

"Got no use fer ferta-lizard," The bandit to her left said dumbly. "But at least we guts us a nice herse."

"And a good ride too, eh?" Cackled the one behind her before he lightly slapped her buttocks. Malon jumped and let out a squeak of surprise and embarrassment, which elicited another raucous round of laughter from the rest of the group.

"Yeah, can't ferget that," The leader laughed with a feral grin. "So how's about it, baby? Feel up to showin' me an' my boys a good time?"

"The moon'll fall out of the sky first," Malon muttered, only following the conversation with her ears as her eyes darted around the group of men, desperately looking for an exit.

"Haw?"

Her anger got the best of her, and she focused her eyes like a thousand archers on the idiot talking to her. "I said when pigs fly, slop-for-brains!" She shouted, causing Top-hat to take a step back.

"Gots a good mouth on her," Said one of the bandits, who then chuckled, pleased with his own innuendo.

The boss sneered, apparently embarrassed at having his cohorts laugh at him, and shoved his face in close to hers. His hand shot out, a craggy claw of skin and bones, and wrapped around her jaw like a gargoyle's talon. She fought back the tears as his unkempt fingernails burrowed into her soft skin and squeezed her lips into a pucker. "So how's 'bout we just roll on somewheres nice an' you can show me what else that pretty little mouth o' yers is good fer?" He said, his voice now dangerously quiet.

Pure, unadulterated rage shot through her like a fiery lance, and Malon showed him what she thought of that idea. Her bare foot came up, catching the overconfident man straight in the family gems.

The man went down, grabbing at his groin and shrieking in pain at octaves that probably didn't come naturally to him. The man that had released her earlier made a grab for her elbow, but the sweat and river water dripping from her clothes actually worked to her advantage. She slid from his grasp before he was able to get a grip and kicked him in the kneecap, then clawed at a third man that make to grab ahold of her wrist, drawing blood as her nails raked across his face. He screamed and clasped his hands to the bloody gouges across his eyelids. Then she turned and ran through the opening the man had given her.

She was free, but she didn't plan on sticking around to enjoy it. She raced towards Epona, who was thankfully still standing in the shallows, which allowed her a much easier leg up. In one swift motion she leapt from the flat rock she had laid on earlier and mounted the mare, fear and adrenalin driving her faster than the remaining group of stunned and enraged bandits could keep up. She slapped the reins down and they were off, Epona giving a frightened whinny as the men closed in behind them. River water kicked up around her in a torrential spray as the mare bolted through the shallows and back onto the road. Malon didn't look back at the shouts and curses directed at her, didn't look back as she felt grimy hands grasp at the hem of her skirt, yanking at her waist and tearing off a large strip of fabric.

Her mind raced as she urged Epona into a gallop, fear and rage and shame churning in her stomach like sour milk. The wagon and everything in it would be a loss. She had no idea how she would explain it all to Ingo, but at least she would escape unharmed, untainted by those twisted deviants. At least she and Epona would still be saf—

The world darkened with pain, and she distantly felt a heavy impact on the side of her head. The reins fell from her grasp, and she saw the world spin as she slipped from the saddle, hills and trees switching places and spinning twirly-whirly with the sky and the clouds as Epona galloped away. On the roof of the world? Such a strange horse. Then the earth came up/down and knocked the breath from her lungs as she landed on her back.

Several pairs of booted feet filled her swimming field of vision, and a large rock fell to the ground by her head. "Good shot, Lenny!" One of the men said.

"Thankee, boss," Lenny replied, sounding as pleased as if he had bagged himself a feast after a particularly long hunt.

Malon's vision swam as she tried to focus her eyes, but the world refused to cooperate and continued to drift in slow, lazy circles. Prickly tufts of grass pressed into her cheek. Ticklish. Smelled good, too. Oops, and there were the hands, those dirty dirty hands, grasping and groping and touching...

She was hauled roughly to her feet, and one of the men slapped her several times across the face, drawing a thin trickle of blood from her split lip. Shock and dread pierced the tumbling fog of her mind and sharpened her focus on the hands that we now holding her immobilized from several different angles.

"Let go of me!"

The leader tsk'd. "Now now, baby, don't be lake dat. We just want a lil taste o' wut you got, tha's all," A craggy hand shot down to her inner thigh and began to move suggestively upwards.

Terror flitted through her mind. No. Not like this. Sweet Nayru, anything but this.

The bandit behind her cupped a dirty hand around her chin and mouth, pulling her head backwards while provocatively running his thumb across her lips, and she bit down out of instinct, hard. Grime and coppery blood flooded her mouth, then sparks flashed across her vision as the cursing bandit swatted at the back of her head. But the bandit didn't have the leverage to do any real harm, so in a desperate bid to save what was left of his thumb he thrust her forcefully away from him. Malon went down in a sprawl, and she winced as the sharp pebbles in the road cut into her palms. She spit the bloody scrap of flesh into the dust, knowing with an icy certainty that her own blood would probably be joining it very soon.

The was no room in her mind left for cognitive thought. As their kicks landed against her stomach and thighs and the gnarled hands closed around her and dragged her through the dirt, there was only room for pure animal instinct. She thrashed wildly, but aside from a low curse when her fist caught the chin of a man reaching for her she was only rewarded with more vicious kicks. A tumultuous swirl of emotions filled her. Fear, anger at herself for being so weak, and the dreaded certainty that she would not enjoy her final moments before they grew bored with her and she was allowed to die.

With one last surge of rational thought, Malon opened her mouth, and she screamed.

"HEEEEEEEELP!"

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Ciao!
Raynre Valence – Sage of Time