Link eased out from under the bank with difficulty. He couldn't feel his limbs, numbed by the cold water. As such, he made more noise than he wished, despite how slowly he was moving. No alarm was raised, no arrow sought his flesh… and Link managed to crawl up the shallow bank, to peer through the tumble of weeds and grasses. He couldn't stop shivering.
It looked clear… but Link didn't trust it. Ilia's teeth were chattering, as she clawed her way up the mud, similarly clumsy from cold. She hadn't waited for him to check for danger, but he didn't blame her. Death was preferable to spending even another minute in the chilling water.
The creek was forty or fifty paces from the nearest wagon (what was left of it).
Link focused on the wagon, averting his eyes from the motionless mounds of cloth and flesh that lay scattered across the camp.
But Ilia could not look away.
"S-s-sur-vi-i-ivor-s-s?—" Ilia chattered.
Link shrugged… or at least, made a motion as close to a shrug as was possible when shivering as hard as he was.
The sun was up though.
But there was also wind.
Link struggled with the strap that held his thickly padded pauldron of heavy cloth in place. His fingers were numb, and the leather strap had swelled from the water… making the buckle—
With a grunt, Link gave up, and pulled the knife from his belt. He'd need to replace the strap anyway. His belt and sling were probably ruined too.
He continued to shed clothing and ruined equipment as he stumbled and crawled towards the wagons, down to his baggy leggings. Blood had soaked into the ground in places, which left the dirt caked and crusty beneath his toes. He was careful to avoid stepping anywhere he couldn't directly see, wary of fallen blades or arrows in the grasses, barefoot as he was, (he kept to the blood soaked dirt/mud sections).
Ilia wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, as she followed Link. It was all well and good for him to partially disrobe.
Link reached a wagon, and began rooting around inside the broken vehicle. He found a blanket, and pressed it against Ilia's shoulder, until she was able to grab hold of it. It was large, but very thin. Not a blanket… a wagon tarp.
She didn't care.
The wind was warm, and with the sun beating down on Link, his skin eventually dried, leaving only a clammy chill wrapped around his legs, but at least he'd stopped shivering.
Ilia left her clothing to dry in the sun, and stayed close to Link, wrapped in the tarp. Everywhere she looked she saw empty eyes with accusing gazes.
Link found a soldier, a man who had fought, and had not been slain by an arrow. A massive boar lay dead, with the broken soldier impaled upon a tusk (right through the shirt of iron mail, as if it were cloth). The man's spear was lodged down the beast's gullet. Link eyed the surrounding devastation, the trampled wagons and broken bodies. The boar had not died quietly. From the look of things, the soldier had died long before his killing blow had felled the boar. Link crouched, and closed the man's staring eyes, ignoring the broken arms and legs, the shattered neck…
A brave man.
A dead man.
With nothing to show for it. Had his sacrifice saved anyone else? Perhaps. It troubled Link, that the man might have died for nothing.
He felt Ilia lay a hand upon his shoulder. He didn't know what to say. She didn't either. There were no words for this, no feeling.
He felt… changed inside. He felt like he had lost something last night, in the water. As if the water had leeched away not just his physical warmth… but something more besides. He felt a terrible coldness within his chest. Or perhaps he was now aware of something he'd never noticed before, something that had crept insidiously into his heart years ago, gradually growing. He had a name for it now.
Fear.
Link reached out, and took hold of Ilia's hand on his shoulder. She was the source of his fear. Those he loved were not safe from harm. Those he protected had always been separate, remote from him… the enemy would have to pass through him to harm those he loved.
It was an illusion. Link understood that now. So he kept searching. He had to protect the people important to him.
((()))
"Don't be ridiculous," Ilia snapped.
Link ignored her, as he brushed the chainmail away.
"It's heavy, loud, and it stinks of metal," Link snapped.
"And it might save your life!" Ilia hissed.
"Or it might slow me down, or give me away," Link pointed out.
"Link… I know I can't make you safe. But this might make you safer," Ilia said, the anger breaking and collapsing, revealing the fear beneath it.
Link reached out and touched her cheek with his knuckles. He'd never been much for talking.
He didn't know what to say, to make this better.
Ilia closed her eyes and grabbed his hand.
No words.
Words had always been difficult, and seemed to get in the way of actual meaning.
((()))
"What are you doing?" the shadow asked. Zelda did her best not to jump. She hadn't seen the disguised interloper move. Again.
"If I can create fire, then I can create light. My magic comes from Light," Zelda answered, distracted, as she arranged the tinder in a pile, positioning the flint and the small knife.
"What is fire?" Midna asked, moving closer, until her disguised eyes were only a handspan away from Zelda's efforts. The false red eyes seemed to glitter like blood.
((()))
Ilia pulled on her muddy (but now dry) clothing. She felt safer now. It wasn't true, but she'd felt singularly vulnerable by her nakedness, protected only by a thin wrap of cloth. The dry mud would flake, and break off. She ignored the discomfort.
They were looking for food, and weapons. Weapons were easily found. Food… not so much.
Link cautiously investigated the contents of a metal pot… but the food that had been left to simmer two days ago had congealed into an unappetizing lump of lard and an unidentifiable substance. The smell was also… nauseating. They'd been searching the destroyed camp for hours. Link was leaning on a broken spear, though it was only five feet long now. He'd found dry clothes among the wagons, though none of the pieces matched, they were comfortable, and clean, cut for easy movement.
So far no survivors. Link had also seen fewer tracks than he'd expected. The "overwhelming" attack had been carried out by a comparative handful of boars… less than a hundred, but more than sixty.
Murder had clearly been high on the moblin's priorities… but not the top. The top priority had apparently been portable food stores and transportation of those stores. He saw evidence that all of the larger wagons had been adapted to hitch to a boar. The smaller wagons had been smashed, some during the initial attack, or through carelessness… but some seemed to have almost been cannibalized for materials.
They're running from something, Link guessed. He looked north, to the not very distant storm clouds. They didn't look right. If clouds could look diseased, these managed it, easily.
The enemy rummage had been fast but thorough. Link didn't see any signs of torture on the victims; only impatiently delivered fatal wounds.
This didn't match anything he knew of bokoblins. True they were different from Moblins, but they two species were still somewhat similar.
"Link, I don't think we're going to find any food here," Ilia said.
Link nodded. Or survivors.
"We might be able to make it to the ranch in four or five days," Ilia said thoughtfully, staring to the south.
"Rusl sent us to warn the castle of the kokiri's message," Link protested, half-heartedly.
"Something is clearly wrong, Link. I've seen you staring at those clouds all day. They scare me, as almost nothing else has before," Ilia said fiercely, clutching at Link's arm, "I will not lose you."
Link stared into familiar green eyes. He didn't want to go north.
He wanted to run, to take Ilia where it was safe.
"Link. Come with me. Please," Ilia begged. She couldn't see the doubts in his eyes, Link realized. She didn't know he was wavering.
He never had before.
Slowly, Link nodded, "South," he agreed.
Ilia wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight.
((()))
There was evil in this world. There was also good. These abstracts were meaningless to Zelda, as she continued to concentrate, and focus her thoughts.
She ruthlessly weeded and cut away every doubt and meaningless thought, until she was left with the core of what was needed.
Fire.
Fire existed in this world.
Fire was her world.
She was consumed with the heat, the harshness, the scent of it.
She wrapped herself within memories of its flickering embrace, its light. It existed, for the candle in her hand burned with it.
Telma watched the princess sit like a statue, the unlit candle standing in the center of her open, flat palm. Nothing was happening.
But Telma believed the princess could save them— though she did keep an eye out. The sheikah had slipped out of view again. She was no doubt lurking in a rafter, or beneath a table.
There was a small movement at the edge of Telma's vision. She turned, curious—
—to watch the tiny flame tentatively emerge from the tip of the princess's candle.
Like a sprouting seed.
Light came forth—
—shortly before a scream of rage shook the building.
"He found us!" the shadow whispered. She stood as far from the light as possible, as if in pain. She stared at Zelda.
"Why did you do this?"
Zelda could feel some of her magic returning to her. But not prophecy.
Be that as it may though…
She realized this might have been a mistake.
((()))
The sun was beginning to set. Link leaned on his broken spear wearily. The shepherd had forced a punishing pace… too punishing for Ilia's bare feet. True, she never wore shoes, and her feet were quite callused, but the girl simply wasn't conditioned for this. Link's feet had blistered in spite of his sandals. And they were both hungry, but not thirsty. There had been water skins in plenty.
"This is far enough," Link said, moving off the path, into the knee-high grass. Ilia gratefully followed. Link glanced to the north, and the storm clouds that had become a constant companion, it seemed. He didn't trust them. Worse, all they'd found for cover was the wagon-tarp Ilia had used while her clothes dried. It hadn't been waterproofed, although the weave was unusually tight. Its coloration was similar to the grasses, one of the reasons Link had grabbed it.
"Here," Link said softly, pointing to a depression by the road, large enough for two to lay within.
Something had changed between them, in the creek.
Link had not been so distracted by the march that he hadn't had time to think about it.
Ilia trailed a hand absently across his arm as she joined him in the shallow bowl. Link threw the cloth over them both, and pulled it tight, as he lay down, spear behind him. Ilia tucked in close beside him, burrowing into his chest.
And it seemed so natural as he wrapped an arm across her, protecting her.
It felt right, to lay here, with the scent of Ilia's hair surrounding him, her head tucked under his chin.
Ilia found his hand and held it as her eyes closed.
Mine, she thought, before sleep took her. There was no place safer than Link in her world.
Sleep though did not come for the shepherd.
Link had not been this close to Ilia for a long time. He remembered how much he missed it. No longer distracted by freezing water, or nearby death, the knight felt things stirring beneath the chains and ice. Once, this had been second nature, expected even. Pain stabbed at Link, and he shied away from thoughts of that day.
His greatest shame.
No. I am a knight. How can I face evil, if I cannot face even my own mistakes? Link thought caustically. He had been running away from that day for nearly four years. He'd distanced himself, "to protect" Ilia.
He'd hurt her.
That was unacceptable. Link felt his lips pulling back from his teeth, an unconscious snarl.
He had been cold long enough. No more! It was time to face his mistake. It was time to move on. It was time to acknowledge a promise. One Ilia didn't remember.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" Ilia asked. Link looked up from the bobber in the water, hands loosening on Uncle Rusl's fishing pole.
"Why?" he asked, surprised by the question. Link didn't know if Ilia was pretty. She was Ilia. If he said that though, he knew it would hurt her feelings. He'd known her as long as he could remember. She'd always been there, a step behind him, watching or joining in on his games. Link also wasn't quite sure what she was getting at. A fish tugged gently at his bobber, eating the bait, but the boy didn't notice. He waited for Ilia to explain. If he waited long enough, Ilia usually talked until he could figure out what she was getting at. He wasn't stupid. Ilia was just really, really smart.
"Well, I've been thinking. All of the grown-ups are married. In three more years, we'll be grown-ups too," the twelve-year old girl said thoughtfully.
"You're not going to leave the ranch, are you?" Link asked, suddenly nervous. It had just occurred to him.
"What? No! Well… maybe," Ilia said, considering the idea. It terrified Link, because it was a weakness he hadn't known of. He'd never considered separation from Ilia, so he'd never anticipated how it would feel.
He didn't like it.
"But, you can't leave," Link protested.
"Sure I can. It's not so far to the next village, and I can ride Epona," Ilia said proudly.
"I don't want you to," Link whispered.
For some reason, that made Ilia smile. Really smile, showing all of her teeth. At that moment, Link decided that whatever "pretty" was, he was certain that Ilia was when she smiled like that. Ilia suddenly hugged Link tightly. Link wrapped an arm around her, unsure of what he'd done.
"Link, when we grow up, do you want to get married?" Ilia asked, nervous and happy at the same time.
"That means you won't leave, right?" Link asked.
"Yes, silly," Ilia sighed, rolling her eyes.
"Okay."
They sat like that for a while, feet dangling above the river that ran below, arms wrapped around each other.
"If we're married, you can come with me," Ilia said happily.
"If you're going somewhere that has shepherds, how is it different from here?" Link asked.
"Dad told me about doctors. They live in the cities, and they help people get better, with magic and medicines," Ilia said happily.
"So, ranches with lots of people. Hmmm…" Link considered the idea. He wasn't sure how he felt about being around a lotof people at a time.
"Do you want to practice?" Ilia asked suddenly.
"Practice what?" Link asked, distracted.
"When people get married, they have to kiss," Ilia giggled.
Link frowned. Aunt Uli kissed his cheek, or the top of his head sometimes, usually when he did something helpful or thoughtful. It didn't really seem like something too hard—
"—on the lips," Ilia giggled, wiping her cheek off, turning red.
Link stared at Ilia suspiciously.
"Where did you see that?" Link asked.
"When dad took me to that other mayor's wedding, remember, last week?" Ilia said. Link scratched his chin. She'd probably been gone while he was in the field with the goats.
"They stood on a platform, and faced each other. Like this," Ilia said, pulling Link to his feet. He set Uncle Rusl's rod down against the short wall of the stone bridge.
He was a little nervous, standing on the wall like this. He couldn't swim (very well).
"The woman was really pretty, with flowers in her hair, and she had ribbons tied to the end of her dress—" Ilia's eyes were far away, remembering the wedding, "—and she looked really happy. Anyway, they held hands like this—"Ilia grabbed Link's hands, twining her fingers through his, palms to palms.
"—and a funny man with long robes said a lot of words I didn't recognize. At the end though, the two people kissed, like this." Ilia leaned in, and pressed her lips against Link's mouth. He didn't know what he was supposed to do.
She pulled back, thoughtful.
"I think that's how they did it. We were kind of far away to see…" she began puckering her lips, experimenting with different shapes.
There had been something though. Link had felt something move in his chest. It had felt weird. But not bad.
"Let's try again," Link suggested. He would try to do better.
They leaned in close, and Link noticed that Ilia was closing her eyes. Did you have to close your eyes for it to work? It was too late now as they bumped together.
The lurch in his chest happened again, sending a tingle down his belly—
—Rusl's unattended rod, its line still trailing in the water suddenly snapped taut and whipped off the bridge, tangling with Ilia's ankles as it passed.
Ilia gasped, as she fell off the bridge. Link let go with one hand, as Ilia's weight yanked him down off the bridge, but he caught hold of the wall, stone cutting into his fingers. He couldn't look away from Ilia's eyes, as she slowly fell. He clutched her hand, and felt his fingers slipping with the awkward hold. Gravity slammed Ilia against the stone pylon, her head hitting with a sickening crunching noise, making her eyes roll up in her head. His elbow hit with equal force, and spasmed. Link watched his fingers open helplessly, he couldn't feel his left arm.
"Ilia!" Link screamed, watching the dazed girl slowly fall towards the water—
Link's eyes darted open, his heart beating rapidly. The shepherd snarled softly, grimacing. No! It was time to face this! No more running! It was a memory. It happened. Pretending otherwise changed nothing! It made him weak!
Link focused, glaring as he stepped back into his memories.
Link let go, dropping into the water. Water surged up his nose, into his mouth, eyes, ears. Trying to blind him, deafen him, drown him. It didn't matter. Link flailed his way through the water, down, down, after the blurry object that was Ilia. His scrabbling fingers found cloth, and Link clutched at the fabric. He held tight to the girl, as the bumped along the bottom of the river, hitting rocks and—
—a tree. Link knew where he was now. He held tight to the rotting wood with his legs, finding a hand hold. Swiftly, Link let go with his legs, wrapping them tightly around Ilia, to use his hands to pull them up the tree trunk, fighting the strong current.
His lungs burned, but he hardly noticed, the panic was too strong. Ilia was dead. She was dead, dead, dead.
He was too late. Too weak, too—
His head broke the surface of the water, finding air. Link grabbed Ilia's collar and yanked her up with him. Her head rolled loosely. She wasn't breathing. Link struggled to the nearby bank, out of the current, dragging Ilia up the mud and into the grass.
"HELP!"
Link stopped. He couldn't face more. He skipped ahead, the familiar coldness returning to him. The numbness.
Rusl found them, and beat on Ilia's chest, until she coughed up the water in her lungs. Link hadn't known to do that. If he had done that immediately Ilia might not have spent five months in Castle Town, on the verge of death from the fever and illness in her lungs, from the water.
The blow to her head had made her forget many things, not just the events of that day. The fever had made her forget more things.
She didn't know it was Link's fault. She didn't know that he'd promised to marry her. She didn't know that Link had to stay away, to keep her safe.
She didn't know—
That you saved her life. A quiet voice whispered in Link's subconscious. Link hardly noticed the thought. But it stuck with him.
Link closed his eyes, as the silent, hot tears came. He kept still, so he didn't wake up Ilia. She needed her sleep.
He'd been numb for so long. It was terrifying, as the feelings came back. The wall was breaking. They were getting through. Making him weak again.
Courage comes from the heart, not the mind, Rusl had told him this many times.
Link still did not understand.
((()))
Zelda walked from the tavern, candle in hand. She had done this. She would fix it.
Or die trying. The shadow accompanied her. It didn't want to be trapped within the tavern's wards. Not when he arrived. It also kept far back, unable to stand the light.
The air stirred as something powerful approached, enraged.
The shadow felt echoes of itself approaching. It remembered teeth. Rending, tearing, devouring.
The one that had devoured most of her power was coming.
They weren't strong enough. Zelda couldn't hide either. There was only one answer.
"Midna, can you veil me against its sight?" Zelda asked.
Only silence answered her question.
Zelda turned to look at her unnatural ally, a pang of fear in her belly.
The plaza was empty.
"So quickly do you abandon your allies," Zelda observed coldly, hastily burying her bitterness and a surprising sense of abandonment at the creature's desertion. After all, it was only practical.
But she still felt betrayed.
((()))
Link jerked, as a scream echoed in his ears. It made something within him rise, something primal, fierce. Something ugly. Link threw the blanket off, spear in hand, rising to his feet. Night had fallen only a few hours prior, it seemed, but the air seemed wrong. Everything seemed… dirty. Indistinct, shadowy, but not absolute darkness.
"Link?" Ilia whispered, frightened, her hand taking hold of his leg.
Everything was wrong. Instincts were screaming in Link's mind, trying to tell him just how badly wrong this was, but he couldn't understand.
"We need to keep moving," Link said. At least he wasn't hungry, or tired. That would probably return, when the shock wore off.
He also felt hunted.
"Ilia, now," Link said softly.
The girl nodded, following Link back to the road in the gloom. The echoes of the scream that had woken Link seemed to be lingering in his ears, spurring him on. But he didn't feel tired.
They broke into a mutual jog, as hostility seemed to press in close behind them.
Link lost track of time, but he became alarmed, as he continued to not tire. The sky was full of dirty clouds, without a single star.
They reached the edge of the clouds.
There was a line almost. On one side was the perpetual gloom, on the other, weak moonlight, from a sliver of moon.
"Just a little farther," Link said tightly, stepping out from under the clouds—
—and fetching up short, as if the air was impenetrable stone.
Link snarled, and lashed out, his hand pressing against the divide between here and there.
A barrier.
They were trapped.
On the edge of perception, Link felt as if dark things were stirring, and drawing closer.
It was just a feeling.
But Link had not survived seventeen years of life by ignoring his feelings.
It was time to run again.
((()))
Zelda held tight to her candle, as she continued to walk, away from those that hid within the tavern. If she was to die, she would not have doom fall upon them as well. The enemy was approaching. She didn't have to see it, she could feel the crushing wave approaching.
It would be here, soon. She had minutes. Zelda cried out to her power, and dragged her finger through the air, sketching symbols of light around her.
They could not kill the fiend.
But they would certainly hurt it.
The air around Zelda began to glow, as more light came forth, pushing back the shadows.
I am here! The light seemed to scream, and Zelda felt defiance and rage stirring beneath her recently acquired Wisdom.
She was not prey.
She was meant to protect her land.
No matter the cost.
Fear was nothing to her.
A wall of shadow rushed down the street towards her. Zelda could see screaming faces within the mist-like force, as it smashed into the puddle of candlelight. And stopped.
"What have you done?!" the alien voice screamed.
Zelda raised her chin, letting her cloak fall from her shoulders. She dragged a hand down her chest, and the torn dress changed beneath her touch, becoming something akin to scale mail… but made from mirrors.
She was finished hiding. Light reflected off her armor, throwing a glittering pattern at the darkness, which recoiled in agony wherever the light touched.
But it could not reach far, only as far as Zelda's belief could take it.
"I will consume you, as I did your sires, slowly, in great agony!"the monster howled, the darkness coalescing into a coherent form.
Its formed seemed unchanged, still that of bulging eyes, questing tongue, and grotesquely long fingers.
"You have existed for too long already," Zelda screamed, her rage freezing the air around her, hoarfrost coated her bare flesh and the ground where her power held sway. Thousands of ice crystals that could reflect light.
The sword in her hand positively glowed, as she raised it in a mocking salute.
"Come to me then," the monster sneered, spreading its arms wide, mocking.