Author's Note: Hello from a long break! I've rewritten the latter half of this chapter so it's drastically different than the earlier iteration. Please reread and leave me a comment on what you think of the new story direction!
Chapter Four
Auru squinted against the glare of the late afternoon sun beating down on the desert sands. Heat shimmered in waves, distorting his vision of the dunes and turning the distant cliffs into a dancing mirage. Overhead, the sky was perfect blue, not a cloud to provide the slightest relief. Despite the pervasive heat that pummeled the earth, he wore a draping cloak over his usual suit of overalls and long-sleeved shirt.
Beside him, Link shaded his eyes and peered out across the desert in futile hopes of seeing the distant Arbiter's Grounds. He'd stripped down to his undershirt and rolled his pants up to his knees. He felt unmanly next to Auru but consoled himself with the fact that manliness wasn't measured by his ability to withstand extreme weather temperatures.
And, besides, what did it 'manliness' matter?
"My scouts have reported lots of activity on the clifftop." Auru's deep voice rumbled out, an echo from a subterranean cave. "I have done some reconnaissance of my own, and all indicators point to the Mirror Chamber as the origin of the disturbance. There seems to be heavy surveillance surrounding the Arbiter's Grounds, and I decided to wait for your decision rather than lose the element of surprise."
Link stepped back from the window cut into the thick stones of the watchtower. Here they were shielded from the worst of the heat, but it was still too warm for him after the pre-winter chill of Ordon. "Human surveillance?" Auru nodded, and Link frowned. There were rumors about desert people, but he'd never placed much stock in rumors. "I'll head in after dark and see how close I can get. When did you first notice unusual activity?"
"One week. We took some time initially to try to pinpoint the cause before I sent a messenger to Castle Town to report. Things have quieted down some since, but in the past ten years, I've never seen anything like this."
"Tell me what you know about the desert people," Link said.
Auru turned away from the view, and together he and Link made their way down the narrow, winding stairs to the base of the tower. It was cooler there, and voices from the desert scouts that used the tower as their headquarters echoed around them in the subterranean rooms. Auru led Link to a small office, gestured to one of the two chairs set up in front of the desk. He sat beside Link, poured them both generous beakers of cool mint tea someone had set out for them.
"Call themselves the Gerudo Thieves," Auru began after a long, contemplative sip. "Supposedly descendants of Ganondorf himself, and he their king long, long ago. They're very secretive people, originally nomads who co-existed peacefully enough with the Hylians. We call them thieves, but how do we know for sure that they make a living by stealing from others?" Auru frowned into his mug, then shot Link a dark glance from beneath thick brows. "Who are they stealing from, I ask?"
"Good question," Link murmured. He swirled his drink in his cup, leaned back on two legs of the chair to think. "But we don't even know for sure if they still even exist."
"Plenty of anecdotal records," Auru muttered. "Those damn cliffs are near impossible to scale, what with heat and sandstorms and…just look at them!" He scowled at the stone wall blocking their view of the distant cliffs. "Sheer rock face, nobody knows how tall. And if I'd gone through all the trouble to blockade myself from any other civilization, I don't figure I'd be real friendly if strangers came to visit."
Auru had a point, as Auru invariably did. Link set off in the gathering dusk, keeping Epona to brisk walk to conserve energy. They had left the shifting dunes of the outer regions behind, and here the sands were packed hard under a top layer of fine dust that swirled in eddies around Epona's hooves.
Link had checked and rechecked his equipment before leaving the watchtower. The armory there was always fully stocked, and he had replenished his arrow quiver and bomb bag from their ample stores. He traveled much lighter now that in the Twilight Days. Without the necessity of all the weapons, he habitually carried his bow, a bag of bombs, and his hookshot. The other items he'd collected during his travels were kept in a specially locked chest in the royal armory. There were only two people with keys to access that chest.
Queen Zelda wore hers on a golden chain around her neck. Link kept his on a leather thong around his.
Link let Epona's easy pace soothe him, his mind drifting as they crossed the broad expanse. His mind turned to the snatches of gossip and legend he'd heard over the years about the ethereal Gerudo Thieves. Friendly or not, he had no intention of waging a one-man war against them. If possible, he'd prefer to avoid detection, at least until he had a better idea of how best to handle the situation. His main priority was to find evidence, one way or the other, of the claim of some disturbance in the Mirror Chamber. If the Gerudo Thieves had some part to do with that disturbance, or had any information, then a confrontation—hostile or otherwise—was inevitable.
Link cast his eyes to the sky, streaked with indigo and orange as the last of the sun's rays shot across the heavens, and sent a prayer to the Goddesses above.
Let there be nothing wrong.
It was full night, and still as the dark side of the moon, when Link reached the Arbiter's Grounds. He pulled Epona up in the shadow of an outcropping of rock, dismounted and stood in the darkness, trying to make out any discernible shapes or movement in the abandoned site. Shivers crept up his spine, stealthy tremors that had little to do with the post-sundown chill that smothered the desert with silence and shadows.
Link had never admitted it to anyone, but the Arbiter's Grounds, and the endless hordes of nasty, horrible spiders that skittered across the sands, made his skin crawl.
He thought about taking the back stairs to the Mirror Chamber. After his adventures, when he and then Princess Zelda had made the journey with Midna to send the Twilight Princess back to her home for a final time, they had discovered a secret passage that avoided the death traps and spider nests that Link had battled his first time through. Now he hesitated between taking the easy, direct path and the one that would walk him through nostalgia.
Link reached up absently to touch his sword hilt, as much for reassurance as for memory. He had never been good at resisting temptation. Old, glory-hungry idiot, he told himself, but the mental chide made him smile as he headed towards the Arbiter's Grounds. There was something that nagged him, just at the edge of his consciousness, urging him towards the dangerous path. It wasn't quite a premonition, nothing as definite as any sixth sense, but Link had learned to listen to that nudge.
Shadows littered the ground, gathered in hidden pockets and plunged harmless twists and turns to an endless abyss of danger. The grounds felt deserted, all movement arrested, all sound frozen as if the entire world held its breath, not in anticipation, but in dread. The slight breeze whistled eerily around sandstone columns. Intricate carvings and designs shone in the pale moonlight, symbols of an alien culture, alien knowledge. Link put an arrow to the string of his bow, boots quiet on the sands. The darkness, the shifting shadows kept his nerves on edge, because in every shadow was a potential enemy.
But at least the night kept the spiders away.
He would have felt better with his sword out, but the light would glint off the metal blade, and Link preferred to stay unnoticed as long as possible. Auru believed that the desert people truly did exist, and Link trusted Auru's instincts. He would preserve the element of surprise for as long as he could. Any advantage in unknown and potentially hostile surroundings could mean the difference between life and death.
Link wound his way through the Arbiter's Grounds, avoiding sink holes and deadly traps laid by stealthy predators, human or otherwise. He shuddered to think of either as he tested the firmness of a patch of sand stretching across the narrow, twisting corridor. Things had changed, subtly, since his last visit nearly ten years ago. Time and wind had altered the physical surroundings, but, more, human interference had added dangers the wilds hadn't. Link had to wonder about the signs of human inhabitation. Stories of desert thieves were as ingrained in Hylian culture as the creation myth, but Link had always been skeptical.
With all the beauty Hyrule had to offer, who would choose to live in the forbidding and hostile environment of the Gerudo Desert?
Movement caught his attention, and Link spun behind one of the many sandstone pillars. He pressed his back against the cool, curved stone, straining to hear any sound in the unearthly silence. Link focused on the fleeting impressions he'd caught in the scant seconds before he'd ducked behind the pillar. Upright, human movement, a single shape, someone familiar with the area. His ears caught the slightest scrape of soft-soled boots against the gritty stone, moving from east to west, perpendicular to the path he'd been following. Link brought to mind a mental image of the room: wide, rectangular space, sunken pits where spiders had once collected, and a patchwork of paths that crossed the wide expanse. The ceiling vaulted high overhead, catching and tossing back sound to distort his perception of the space.
Something about the sounds made him think, oddly, female. There was a delicateness to the footfalls that was nearly feline, and Link built an image of a trained warrior, lithe and agile, quick on her feet. Anyone who ventured into the desert alone at night would be armed, against natural predators if not human, and if this was the territory of the desert thieves, they would be harsh, virile fighters accustomed to defending themselves against the predators of their world.
Link kept a running tension on the string of his bow, pointed his arrow down. He could, at a moment's notice, swing and fire at any moving target. There was no room here for doubts, for concerns about the shadows, his eyesight, no margin for error. He eased around the pillar, the slow, stealthy movements of a stalking predator.
He caught sight of more movement, this one distinctly not human. This form was harder to distinguish from the shadows, slinking low to the earth, edges blurred by darkness. Link had the impression of four legs, a tail, distinct feline grace.
It closed towards the unsuspecting human, and Link could all but smell the hunger on the air.
He didn't stop to think. His body was in motion before he could register the mental command. Bow was up, the first arrow loosed and hissing with the sound of a striking eagle in the silence. Link had a second arrow notched and ready even as he raced forward, positioning himself for a follow-up strike and putting him closer should he need to reach for his sword.
The sand cat, expert nocturnal predators of the desert cliffs, screeched in pain as the arrow found its target, burying itself just behind the foreleg. Link caught it mid-leap, and it twisted midair, the right forelimb still reaching for its target. The human—female, from the sound of the scream—went down. Link loosed a second arrow into the cat's belly, hooking his bow over his shoulders and unsheathing his sword in one fluid movement.
He moved in, cut downward once, twice with powerful slices. The cat went limp on the ground, head half-severed off its shoulders. Link stepped back, avoiding the pooling blood, and focused on the human figure half-fallen on the stone.
He stepped forward, bloody sword tip pointed at the ground. He could barely see the injured human and kept his distance, wary of an attack. "How badly are you injured?"
The voice was breathy with pain, but there was steel beneath speaker's low voice. "Who are you?"
Link rarely believed in relying on pretense. "My name is Link, and I represent the Queen of Hyrule. I come here meaning no harm to you or your people." The woman seemed too badly injured to gain her feet, and Link reached for his lantern with his right hand. "I have a lantern. Don't be startled." He crouched down to strike flint against his blade, sparking the wick.
Light flared, and Link blinked rapidly to clear his vision. The lantern lit a small pool in the deep pools of darkness, isolating the gory scene in the vast blackness that rose like enclosing walls around them. Blood seeped from a deep gash in the woman's side, four distinct claw marks ripping furrows through cloth and flesh. "You need immediate help," Link said. He wiped his sword on the cat's undamaged haunch, cleaning it of blood before resheathing it. He swung his pack off his back, reaching in for his spare tunic. He offered it to her. "Press as hard as you can," he instructed. "We need to slow the bleeding."
She watched him warily but accepted the tunic. "What do you want with me?" Sweat sheened her face with the effort not to scream out in pain as she bore down on the wound. Link set to work tearing his cloak into long strips. They would need to secure his tunic against the wound if he were to transport her anywhere.
"I don't want anything from you," he told her. "Can you sit up?" She gasped in pain but didn't fight him when he eased her to a sitting position. He propped her against his shoulder and tied the strips around her waist. "I have to take you to the nearest soldier outpost," he told her. Auru's outpost was the only one in the desert. Link thought about the long, hard midnight ride ahead of them. Zephyr would have to give it his all to get them to a doctor in time to save this woman's life. "You need stitches. You might pass out. Don't fight it. I won't hurt you."
She swallowed hard. "You saved my life." She shifted, grabbing Link's hand to stop him as he fastened the last tie around her. Their eyes met, hers cloudy with pain. "You didn't have to."
"I couldn't let you die." Link hooked the lantern to his belt and stood, hefting the woman in his arms. Up close, he could tell she was younger than he, early twenties, skin darkly tanned by the sun and a body hard and lean with muscle. "The cat was hungry."
She glanced down at the mangled remains of the sand cat and looked away. Her skin took on a faintly greenish hue. "She has young to feed." She seemed to struggle with herself, then opened her eyes. They were wide and direct, the color of aged amber ale. "I will show you to my people's hideout. It is closer than your soldier outpost."
Surprised, Link looked down. The stories of the desert thieves were true, then. He only nodded. "Let's hurry."
She directed him through the Arbiter's Grounds and through a concealed entrance behind a statue. Link had to squeeze through, scraping his shoulder on the rough stone to make enough space for them both to pass. She didn't complain as he jostled her, taking the steep flight of stairs in a narrow, underground stairway two at a time. The passageway grew progressively narrower, the ceiling lowering until Link was nearly doubled over. "We're getting close," she said, encouragingly. Link just grunted. Despite the cool desert night, sweat dribbled down his face and back. He'd never thought himself claustrophobic, but he was starting to see why some people were.
And then, just as suddenly, he burst out of the stairway and into the open.
The sight that greeted him had his jaw dropping in absolute shock. Link wished he had his hands free so he could reach his sword, but it was too late for that.
Ilia couldn't sleep. Restless, she tossed her tangled bedsheets aside and slipped out of her room, avoiding the creaking boards in the hallway and padding barefoot out the front door of the house. The night breeze swept back her hair as she stepped onto the porch, and she stepped down onto the packed dirt path. She followed the path to the river and sat on the wide, flat-topped rock that looked over the gentle curve in the brook that flowed through Ordon.
Despite the fatigue of her day, Ilia couldn't rest. Her mind kept turning to Link, and she clutched her hands together in her lap as she thought back to their hasty parting days before. His eyes had said so much more than his words. She'd known he'd stayed the night in his tree house, but she hadn't brought it up with him. It was hard enough on them both that he had been called away so abruptly. But there had been more in his eyes this time, more secrets he'd been trying to hide.
More shadows.
Ilia sighed. She hadn't been able to keep her thoughts a secret. After Link had left, she'd gone back into the house, and there was no keeping the others from knowing what had transpired.
"He's going, isn't it." It was a statement, not a question, from Ashei.
Ilia nodded, her throat tight with fiercely controlled tears. "Summons from the queen. They need him."
Ashei snorted, but subsided at Uli's quiet look. The older woman rose, all slim grace, and crossed to take Ilia's hands in hers. Her soft eyes were direct and compassionate. "Link will always come back." She didn't have to voice the rest of the sentiment aloud: he won't die, not this time, either.
"It's just…the timing…" Ilia sniffled back the tears that threatened to choke her.
"It's never good timing." Cassie rose to refill the teapot from the kettle of water simmering by the fire. She nudged Ilia back to her chair and sent a grateful look at Ashei, who silently and unobtrusively gathered up the scattered wedding preparations and put them out of sight on the counter. "You have to be strong, for Link. You've chosen a hard man to love."
Ilia managed a watery smile and accepted the mug Cassie held out to her. "I don't think 'choice' was ever part of it," she confessed. "It seems I've loved Link all my life."
"He was such a scrappy little boy when he first came," Uli reminisced. She and Ilia shared a warm look, and Uli explained to the others, "You weren't here when Link first came to Ordon. He was such a sad, lonely child, an orphan with little recollection of his own parents and upbringing. Nobody knows how he managed to survive so long on his own, or where he came from. He just showed up one day in Ordon. Mayor Bo sort of adopted him, and Link adopted us all."
"Rusl really took care of him," Ilia added. "You could tell, from the way Link would follow Rusl around, that they had something…special. A bond. He might have lived with us for a while, but it was Rusl who really stood as Link's father. And when you and Rusl married," Ilia said to Uli, "You are the only mother Link has ever really known."
Uli flushed a little at that, but Cassie smiled sweetly at her. "Link was lucky, then," she said. "Everyone knows the tale of how the hero of Hyrule defied death and the evils of darkness to bring back the memories of his childhood sweetheart. He did that, and saved the world, he can do this for Queen Zelda and be back in time for your winter ceremony. He just won't have a right to complain when he finds out you're wearing dyed-blue fur in the latest styles from overseas."
Ilia tried not to choke at the thought. "Please," she managed. "That's horrible."
The mental image, even now, had Ilia wincing. She tipped her head back to stare at the stars. The sky was clear, and each point of light shone like a crystal-edged spark against the eternal universe. So many mysteries, she thought, that lay so far out of reach. Sometimes, though, it was the mysteries that lay close to home that meant more, and were the hardest to answer.
"Something on your mind?"
Ilia glanced over. Rusl stepped out of the darkness and stood beside the rock, gazing out across the smoothly flowing water. "Cooling down some nights now," he commented. "Autumn's on her way."
"Mushroom and nut season," Ilia replied, thinking of harvesting schedules. They would be reaping the last of the season's wheat, starting the new season's crop of pumpkins and squash. "Brown ale and thyme cheese."
Rusl grinned at the mention of the time-honored tradition of greeting the change in leaf color with the first batch of brewed brown ale and the mellow, crumbly thyme cheese Fado made from the last of summer's goat milk. "Another year." He slanted a glance at Ilia. "Uli says you've been working yourself too hard. Keeping busy enough for two of you."
Ilia sighed and looked down at her intertwined fingers. "It keeps me from being lonely," she admitted. "It's just when I try to sleep, and I can't stop thinking, that it catches up to me." The tears that blurred her vision came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, she couldn't stop them splattering, hot and hard, against her hands. "He promised to stay with me, Rusl. And I so selfish to want him all the time?"
The truth was never easy to deal with. "Yes."
Her head jerked up, and her eyes fired behind the sheen of tears. "Excuse me?"
"Yes, it's selfish," Rusl went on, unperturbed. "Link isn't just any other man, free to come and go as he pleases. He's got a commitment most would falter under, a burden none other could shoulder. But love is selfish, and uncooperative, and unreasonable. Your mind can tell you as much as it wants that you should be calm and reasonable and understanding, and your heart will say no. It doesn't matter that the country needs Link. You need Link, and that should be most important." Rusl turned to look at Ilia directly. "But just because he chooses to go at the queen's bidding, just because he chooses to leave you as you plan your wedding, doesn't mean his love isn't as selfish."
Just like Rusl to know exactly the heart of the worry and self-doubt that kept Ilia up at night. She sniffled and rubbed her eyes with the back of a hand. "Doesn't it?"
Rusl stuck his hands in his pockets. "Pretty selfish of him to want to provide a world for you that's safe of danger," he pointed out. "Pretty selfish of him to want to do everything in his power to make you happy."
Anger deflated instantly, and Ilia's shoulders slumped. "I don't need all that to be happy," she whispered, knowing even as she spoke the words that it wasn't true. Link would know, better than anyone, that she would never rest knowing that there was greater injustice in the world. "Oh, Rusl," she sighed. "Why did I have to love such a hero?"
Laughing a little, Rusl rocked back on his heels. "He was born to be a hero," Rusl said. "We all of us have our destinies to fulfill. Some of us have a harder calling than others. Link's destiny was to be a hero. Yours is to love him, despite it."
Despite it, Ilia thought, and a faint smile fluttered around her lips. "Yes," she whispered, and tilted her head back to stare at the stars. It soothed her heart a little to think that Link might at that very moment be looking at the same starry sky. Wherever he was, they could be together, bonded by that small, shared intimacy that spanned all time and space. "Link, my hero."
Come back home to me, she thought, a silent prayer to the unmoving stars above. Come back home, Link.
~8.14.11