"Link…"
"Wake up…"
"Link, the chosen one…"
Link gasped, his eyes flashing open. He was on his knees. Someone in an orange robe stood before him. Link looked up. The man was tall, and very… stately. He had a stern face… as soon as he knew Link was looking at him, he spoke, his voice soft, but gravely, holding a tone of command. This was a man who expected others to heed him and obey without question…
"I am Rauru, one of the ancient Sages…
Ages ago, we built the Temple of Time to protect the entrance to the Sacred Realm… This is the Chamber of Sages, inside the Temple of Light… which is situated in the very center of the Sacred Realm. This is the last stronghold against Ganondorf's evil forces. The Master Sword—the evil-destroying sword you pulled out of the Pedestal of Time—was the final key to the Sacred Realm."
This was a dream. It had to be.
"Link… don't be alarmed… but look at yourself…"
Link looked down, seeing his hands… but they were huge… and a pale white, like the belly of a fish! He lifted them up, gazing at them. His hands… they were encased in sturdy leather gauntlets. Link staggered to his feet, staring down at his clothing. He wasn't wearing kokiri garb. He ran his fingers over it, inspecting it. He was wearing leather knee-boots, with boiled leather greaves strapped over them. Tan colored pants disappeared into the boot tops. His gaze traveled higher. With a jolt, he realized his tail was also… missing.
He was wearing a collard long-sleeve white under shirt, with a simple shirt of steel chainmail over it, but partially concealed under a green short-sleeve tunic. His hands were covered by gloves that left his fingers exposed from the first knuckle down. He flexed them, they were made of supple brown leather. A well crafted (though plain) leather belt was clasped about his waist, fastened with a brass buckle. He ran his fingers across the belt, ringed by leather pouches and small cases attached to it. There was an unaccustomed weight on his left shoulder. He noticed a dual belt baldric was strapped across his chest. A thicker pad of leather capped his shoulder, under the thinner belt, distributing the weight of… whatever was on his back. Link's left hand rose, reaching over his shoulder, but instead of finding the moblin blade… he found a familiar hilt.
The alien presence brushed his mind, like a casual greeting. He pulled the three feet of steel from the scabbard on his back, and balanced the blade in his palms, looking at it in wonder… The blade was 28 inches long, and the entire hilt took up another 8 inches. The crosstree was six inches wide. The blade itself was exotic. The tang was only one and a half inches wide, for roughly 6 inches, then the blade blossomed to two and a half inches in width for the rest of the blade, right to its sharply taper point.
It was beautiful.
The presence smiled, pleased.
Link spied his reflection in the blade, and he held it up, looking at himself. In the narrow reflection… he knew that he had grown, not just becoming taller, but actually aging… he wasn't eleven anymore. Awkwardly, he slipped the sword back into the sheath, not accustomed to its position yet. He would have to practice…
Rauru stepped forward, his veiled hands clasped together, hidden by his sleeves,
"The master sword is a sacred blade which evil ones may never touch… Only one worthy of the title "Hero of Time" can pull it from the Pedestal of Time…
However, you were too young to be the Hero of Time… Therefore, your spirit was sealed here for seven years. And now the time has come for you to awaken as the Hero of Time."
"Seven… seven years?" Link asked, terror beginning to bubble up within him. He had been gone for seven years?! Numb, he listened as the Sage continued,
"Though you opened the Door of Time in the name of peace… Ganondorf, the Gerudo King of Thieves, used it to enter this forbidden Sacred Realm. He obtained the Triforce from the Temple of Light, and with its power, he became the King of Evil… his evil power radiated from the Temples of Hyrule, and in seven short years, it transformed Hyrule into a world of monsters. My power now has only little influence, even in this Sacred Realm… namely, this Chamber of Sages. But there is still hope…"
Link lowered his head in shame. He had… doomed Hyrule, not saved it. A world of monsters… he had not opened the Door of Time to bring peace, but to bring death to one man.
"The power of the Sages remains. When the power of all the Sages is awakened… The Sages' Seals will contain Ganon's evil in the void of the Realm… I, Rauru, am one of the Sages… and you are the Hero of Time, chosen by the Master Sword!
Find and awaken the other Sages, and add their might to our own! Go now, and save Hyrule!"
Light coalesced around Link, and he fell to his knees once more, overcome. Light arced around him, like a corona of lightning, and the flicker of fire, combined into a single aura. With a shudder, his knees slammed painfully into cold stone, and he opened his eyes. He was back in the Temple of Time, kneeling before the empty Pedestal of Time. He felt sick, and weak. A blue light flickered from his collar, and Navi appeared, disoriented, "Link, what happened?" she asked.
The young man shook his head, not trusting himself to speak, lest he vomit in this holy place. He stood, and turned, heading for the exit. He would vomit outside. He pushed the huge door open, and lurched outside, wracked by dry heaves.
"Link…" Navi whispered in warning. Link wiped his mouth, and took in his surroundings, nausea forgotten.
Everything was destroyed. He knew it to be day, yet the sky was black as night. The town had been partially razed, and left to disrepair. Rubble was strewn everywhere, and skeletons had been left where they fell.
Navi tried to hide her presence, great evil had been done here, and still lingered... The wind moaned through the town, ugly as rape. Link stiffened. There was no breeze here, "That's not the wind, is it?" Link whispered. In the darkness, he could feel Navi trembling, "I sense great pain, and lingering death, spirits bound to their corpses, unable to rest…" she whispered, terrified. Link slowly drew the Master Sword, and it briefly touched his mind, concerned by his fear. Warmth seeped up his fingers and hand from the sword, a small comfort, but Link knew he was not alone. "Link, we must get out of this place…" Navi urged.
Link didn't argue. In the murky twilight, his footsteps, soft as they were, seemed to echo in his ears. He felt… trapped, in the tight alley way, and something moved in the darkness ahead of him. Discretion is the better part of valor. Link sheathed his sword, and scrambled up one of the destroyed buildings.
Link kept to the edges of the roof, and Navi could see why. The building was a fire gutted shell. Its floors had been burned out, leaving only the stone walls behind. Link leapt, from building to building, and twice, he nearly fell, unused to his new body. He could jump harder and farther, but he couldn't alter his momentum as quickly as he was used to. Below him, Link saw furtive movement in the shadows, and gangly shapes shambling without direction. He knew not what they were, but they couldn't climb, apparently.
Link quickly made his way to the town's outer curtain wall, feeling a sharp sense of déjà vu. Not so long ago, it seemed, he had done just that, following the princess through a war torn town…
The drawbridge had been smashed into the river below, making it impassible… to cavalry. Link cautiously descended, drawing his blade, and eyed the murky, stagnant water. The river no longer flowed here, and the water level had dropped by nearly half… but what concerned him, was that unseen things still moved beneath the surface, leaving ripples and bubbles. Link really hated water… but there was nothing for it. Some of the pieces from the drawbridge still poked up out of the water, covered in slimy moss. Before he could reconsider, the young man vaulted out over the water, and landed on a piece of bridge. It was as slippery as it appeared. His boots shot out from under him, and he landed in the water.
Well, six inches of it. Link scrambled to his feet, and dashed along the submerged draw bridge, invisible beneath the water. He could see the V-shaped wakes of things coming towards him. His boot found a hole in the bridge, but his momentum kept him from breaking his ankle. Part of the drawbridge was still on the far side, and had been snapped, a third down its length. It looked almost like a ramp. A very slippery ramp. Link hurdled the last stretch, and after a few seconds scrambling, clambered up and onto dry land. He looked down at the water and saw that it was churning into froth by hundreds of small creatures, which seemed to be mostly bone and teeth. Link shivered, and quickly walked away from the moat. The farther he walked from the cursed ground, the better he felt. Navi finally emerged from his hood, and stood on his shoulder, gazing around.
As they walked, Link quickly told Navi what had happened in the Chamber of the Sages.
"This… Rauru… did he tell you where, or who the other Sages are?" Navi asked, frustrated. Link shook his head, "No… but I don't think he knew… prophecies tend to be rather vague, don't they?"
Navi nodded to herself, "We need guidance, Link," she told him softly.
"Malon's home, the ranch. It is not far from here…" Link suggested. Navi looked at her ward suspiciously, "And you have no other motive for going there?" she enquired pointedly.
"Of course I do. I want to see Malon," Link replied honestly. Seven years, in a world of monsters. His throat was threatening to close up from fear, but he viciously beat it down. Malon was strong. She would have survived.
And if she hadn't… the one responsible was going to burn.
Deep within a dead village, something stirred. Wind whistled through the abandoned houses, doors creaked and groaned on ruined hinges. Evil had left its mark here, in this stronghold of the Sheikah… now dead.
Or so Ganondorf should hope… although he might be the King of Darkness, in all kingdoms, there are rebels, hidden in the Shadows.
In the middle of Karkariko village, stood a well, as dead as the village around it. If anyone were to approach the well, they would feel the urge to keep on walking. The weaves of Shadow Magic were so light and well constructed, that not even a wizard would notice the warding. At the bottom of the well, there was a tunnel, which led to an enormous tomb… with the spirit of an Interloper imprisoned within the mortar, never to escape… but it shielded the place from roving magical eyes. It was the heart of the Sheikah…
And the Sheikah's heart still beat with a cold hatred.
"Milady, Aris reports that her raid on the Gerudo supply-line was successful, but she lost three men," a masked woman wearing Sheikah clothing said, a pair of hooked swords strapped to her back. In her palm she held a smooth riverstone, with the symbol of the Sheikah carved in it.
A table, magicked to show realistic terrain and people as motes of sand and shadow dominated the center of the war room. Colored flags stood in clusters, usually in villages and towns, but a few stood at key points along major roads and passes. A cloaked woman leaned over the impressive bit of enchantment, her eyes roaming the terrain, as the map updated, showing the stylized reduction of red flags where the Gerudo supply depot once stood. She was so tired… everyday, they fought, and killed the enemy, yet Ganondorf's hold in her country grew stronger, and more good men and women died.
"Milady?" the Sheikah warrior enquired gently.
Princess Zelda sighed, "I'm sorry, Impa, thank you for telling me. Instruct Aris to take her fighters to this point, here, one mile south of Abrion. Lito, and his fighters should be almost there. Instruct her to signal once she is in position."
The shadow warrior nodded curtly, and stared at the stone, communing across hundreds of miles to another shadow warrior named Aris, who held an identical talisman in her gloved hand.
"You're tired, milady, when was the last time you slept?" a voice rumbled nearby. Zelda glanced at the hulking man in his battered royal armor. Knight-Commander Donovan stood at ease in his lady's presence.
"I don't have time to sleep, commander, things are happening too quickly, and we are at too vital a stage in our plans for mistakes," Zelda snapped.
The bearish man nodded, conceding the point without surrendering his argument, "A good leader knows how to delegate responsibility to those who are able to
shoulder it."
"And am I a good leader?" Zelda asked sharply, a challenge.
Donovan shrugged, "The only one worthy of the name, milady. Sleep. I will stand in your stead."
Zelda waivered for a moment, and the Hylian Knight grinned beneath his helmet, "I taught you of war and strategy, princess. I can manage for a few hours."
Zelda frowned, "Very well, Knight-Commander. I shall retire, for now."
"Truly the voice of wisdom, your highness," Donovan said, his tone serious.
The princess of a conquered land walked through the dimly lit passages of her hidden refuge, nodding to resistance fighters that she passed. A few men were struggling to cook an edible broth in an old helmet over a small flame. Judging by the muted curses, they were not having much luck. They waved to her as she passed.
The alcoves in the walls that had once held ancient bones now contained bedrolls, and sleeping men. Impa had assured Zelda that the dead Sheikah would not begrudge the living sharing their resting place. If anything, it seemed the ghosts and revenants seemed… amused… by the company.
The Princess passed the makeshift infirmary, where Madame Malka, one of the few remaining free-witches, was trying to save the life of a young man, who had lost his left leg at the knee to a moblin sword in the last raid. Despite her skill, and the efforts of the ghosts crowded around the boy, it did not seem that he would see the dawn. The infection had entered his blood, and festered for too long before reaching the witch and her herbs. At least he had stopped screaming, the poppy had dulled his pain.
Weary in both mind, body, and spirit, Zelda found an unoccupied alcove, and slipped onto the thin bedding, quickly falling asleep.
They didn't make it to the ranch by nightfall, but Link continued walking in the darkness. Navi kept her ambient glow hidden. They knew, instinctively, that light would draw the attention and wrath of the things stirring around them… and Link had faith in the power of the Master Sword, but he also knew that it would take a long time to reach the ranch if he had to fight every step of the way… he was surprised though. He hadn't seen any Stalchildren… but a nasty little thought came to him… perhaps something worse had eaten them?
Link did not know what the sound he heard was. At first, it sounded like a wolfos, but the pitch was wrong, the ethereal howl hung suspended in the still night air, a frozen moment before a fall.
"Link, RUN!" Navi screamed. Without hesitation, Link surged into a dead sprint. The successors to the Stallchildren were coming… and they were hungry. Navi could see the vortices of dark magic that coursed through the bodies of the monsters. They resembled wolfos skeletons, but twice as large. Their bones were layered with strips of rotting meat and fur. Evil burned in their boney eye sockets, hungering to rend quivering, hot flesh with sharp tooth and claw… and they hunted in packs.
Demon. Condemner. Savior.
Zelda dreamed a dream she had not had for many years. She stood on high rock in the center of Hyrule. All around her, dark waves covered the land, with the faces of the damned within the accursed water. She knew how this dream went. Within minutes, the waves would rise higher than her rock, and crash over her, tossing her into the sea of clutching talons and teeth, to be torn apart, and dragged to the choking depths.
With resignation, the princess watched the water rise. She kicked her feet on the edge of the rock, impertinently goading the dream to hurry up to its inevitable conclusion.
"Nothing is inevitable, Princess of Destiny," a cold voice whispered behind her. Startled, Zelda looked over her shoulder. A column of swirling shadow, roughly the height of a man, stood, watching her with pinpoints of blazing blue eyes. Zelda felt a moment of… not safety, but rather, the feeling of standing behind something dangerous, which was preventing other things from approaching by its mere presence.
"Who are you?" Zelda challenged, rising to her feet.
"Hope."
With a bloodcurdling scream of rage, a shaft of eye-searing light appeared in its hand. The shadow buried the sword into the stone at its feet, and light, brighter than the sun blasted forth from the crack in the rock, beating at Zelda like a sandstorm, slamming against the rising tide of darkness, pushing it back—
"Milady!" a hand shook her shoulder, and Zelda woke abruptly. Donovan had sent a messenger to fetch her, Lito and Aris had reached their objective. Zelda hurried after the runner, but her mind was buzzing from her prophetic dream. Something had changed. She could not shake the feeling that something powerful had awoken, and it held no love for Ganondorf.
And just as the mysterious shadow had promised, Zelda felt the stirrings of hope.
Link was fast, but not even he could outrun the beasts on foot. He spun, placing his back to a sturdy tree, and bared his teeth, adding his own snarl to the mix. The monsters leisurely slowed to a trot, arraying into a wide semi-circle.
"Come on!" he screamed in his native tongue, his sword flaring with a cold blue light. Navi stood on Link's shoulder, fists planted on her hips, daring them to attack.
The biggest of the undead creatures, presumably the leader, chuffed, and two of the pack stepped forward, and attacked.
Nikaru peered into the darkness beyond their shielded campfire. The band of Gerudo had taken shelter in one of the many caves that dotted this green, accursed land. The fire was far enough back within the cave, that its glow would not be seen by the creatures of the night. Huorlin stepped up next to her, leaning on a glaive.
"Do you hear the devil-wolf, sister?"
Nikaru nodded, "They have found meat," she answered. The sentries continued to listen to the sounds that drifted across the plain to the cliffs where they camped.
Sound did not carry here as well as it did in their native homeland, across the sea of sands, but a Gerudo has excellent hearing.
Huorlin laughed, "Their meat resists. I hear sounds of pain."
Faint yelps carried on the night air came to rest in their ears. They listened for some time, before the howls, barks, and yelps ceased.
"And in the end, there is only darkness," Nikaru observed. Their path would take them in that direction tomorrow. Perhaps they would learn what had resisted for so long.
Despite the long night, the gerudo were awake, and saddling the horses before first light, departing at a steady canter. Near midday Nikaru drew her horse up sharply, lest they run over the remnants of a devil-wolf. The sun-charred bones stank terribly. She cast her golden eyes across the grassland ahead of her. She could see more of the slain demons, but she saw no sign of their quarry... Nikaru noticed a spindly tree nearby. Its bark had been shredded badly, as if the demons had tried to climb it, to reach some succulent meat. The tracker's eyes lit up. She whistled harshly, and an answering call came from above. The hawk landed on the woman's outstretched arm, wicked talons curling around her leather vambrace. "Seek!" she commanded, and the bird of prey took off.
Link limped through the tall grass. His clothing was torn and bloodied, showing glimpses of chainmail. Without Navi, he would have died from blood loss during the night, but her magic had limits. She was sleeping in his collar, at the moment, exhausted. It looked worse than it was. He had a lot of shallow cuts, deep enough to bleed, but not enough to kill. Two of the wounds had been serious, one to his leg, another on his right shoulder. He'd been forced to poultice and bandage those, after Navi had treated them. Link was only a few hours away from Malon's ranch… if it was still there. He hadn't had time to forage for food, so his stomach was rumbling. To make matters worse, he could hear thunder in the distance. Link glanced up at the sky, noticing that it was cloudless, utterly devoid of detail aside from a circling hawk high above.
Not thunder then. Hooves. There was nowhere to hide though. The grass only grew to knee height here, with no rocks or trees. He had crested a hill several minutes ago, which was blocking him from the horsemen's sight. He sighed, and drew his sword, thankful that his left arm hadn't been seriously injured in the fight. He turned, and faced the sounds of the horsemen, master sword propped on his shoulder, as he'd seen Darunia do with his claymore, and tried to emulate the goron's defiant pose.
"Must we always stand our ground?" Navi complained.
"Something has a nasty sense of humor," Link replied calmly. There was no alternative. He couldn't out run them… but maybe he could bluff…
Nikaru was in the lead, and crested the hill first. She saw their quarry less than a hundred feet away. She was startled for a moment. A hooded warrior, in green cloth over chainmail waited for them. His pose was arrogant, one hand on his hip, the other holding a beautiful sword resting on his shoulder, head slightly cocked to one side. Blood had dried in his torn clothing, but the warrior didn't seem to notice it… as if such trivial things as injuries were beneath its contempt.
Nikaru felt a flicker of excitement. A worthy quarry… finally. Huorlin was the oldest among them, so she was afforded the first pass. The woman whooped as she kicked her horse into a gallop, whirling her bola over head. The weapon, essentially three chains with weights at the tips, was used for immobilizing. The warrior didn't move. He calmly watched the charging woman, face shrouded by his hood, since his back was to the rising sun. Huorlin loosed her bola, and it hissed through the air like a desert wasp, almost too fast to see. The warrior contemptuously raised his sword. Nikaru smiled, the fool. A chain bola would wrap around a sword and hit the wielder in the face with its weights.
Metal rang, and sparks exploded in front of the warrior… but Nikaru quickly realized that it was sunlight reflecting off the shattered links of the chains. Instead of wrapping around, it had simply been severed…
The warrior returned the sword to his shoulder, resuming his original arrogant pose. That sword… that beautiful sword… it had cut their finest steel as easily as if it were rotted leather. Huorlin reined in her horse nearly a hundred feet behind the strange man, and waved her glaive. Six more women made their passes against the man, and tried with similar results to capture him. Finally, only Sejuno, a few months senior to her, remained. Impatient, she decided to skip the traditional bola, and uncoiled her twelve foot whip.
Link fought to hold Darunia's pose. If he showed weakness, or fear, he would die. The seven Gerudo waited some distance behind him, but he had seen that several carried short bows made of some strange wood. It was segmented, and looked eerily… glossy. Two remained to challenge him. One of them grabbed the handle of a weapon on their saddle, and charged. He could not see what kind of weapon it was, and that worried him… but he did not move. She came closer, yellowish eyes burning above her cloth mask, which covered her face from the nose-down. At the last moment, she raised her arm, a whip expertly unfurling behind her, before striking. Link did not have time to raise the sword, but he did raise his right arm. The leather snaked around his vambrace painfully. He could have cut the whip, but he needed to make a statement, to prove his strength. He darted to the side and yanked on the whip. The woman had just come abreast of him. She was braced for a pull, from behind, but not from the side. He caught her before she was ready, and she flew sideways out of the saddle, a loop on the whip's handle around her wrist. She landed badly, but quickly stood, drawing a knife from her belt, but Link yanked on the whip again, and she stumbled towards him. Link punched her in the temple with his right elbow, dropping her to the ground. He flicked his right arm, putting as much contempt as he could in the gesture, freeing it of the whip. Link watched the last of the women. She cantered forward, but did not gallop, slowing as she approached. She dismounted sleekly, and checked the unconscious woman.
Nikaru was impressed and exhilarated. Sejuno was an expert with the twelve-foot whip… and this stranger had bested her with as little effort as the older women. Sejuno still breathed, as Nikaru suspected. She stood from her crouch, and drew a pair of cruelly twisting daggers from her belt. She would have the advantage, if she could get inside of his reach. She studied the warrior for a moment, now only fifteen feet away. His clothing seemed too badly bloodied for him to possibly be able to stand. Nikaru frowned… the sun had risen, so he was no monster…
Nikaru darted forward, probing the stranger's defenses. She was not disappointed. He truly was as quick as he appeared. The sword flashed and spun around his body, knocking her blades and attacks aside, nearly killing her twice, despite her rapid defense through offense. They broke apart after the twenty second barrage, eyeing each other. She still couldn't see his face, but there was no doubt that he was male, from the way his chest moved when he breathed. She had tested him, and realized something valuable. He was injured. His impassiveness was a façade, and her estimation of his value grew… as well as the danger.
She felt… alive. Nikaru lunged forward, and the dance resumed. Several seconds in, he let one of her daggers slip through, but it slid over the chain mail he wore, in order to deliver a pommel-bash, which caught her in the ribs, winding her. She staggered back, and the warrior did not pursue. She noted that he favored his right shoulder, slightly, as well as his right leg. She recovered her breath, and pounced. Again, their blades met, but this time, she worked him hard, targeting his injuries. She locked her dagger in the cross guard of his sword, pulling it off-true, and her other dagger darted forward… but an iron hand clamped down on her wrist, halting her strike. She strained for only a moment, then snapped her knee up, hitting his injured leg. The warrior's leg buckled beneath him, and Nikaru jumped him, slamming him to the ground, and rammed the pommel of her dagger into his head.
For a moment, she didn't realize that he was unconscious, and put her blade to his throat. The moment dragged on, but the man still wasn't moving. She roughly rolled him over, securing his wrists with leather thongs to the back of his belt. She hobbled him with a chain around his ankles.
Huorlin and the rest of the women approached, congratulating her. Elsin recovered the man's sword, and handed it to her, envious of the marvelous blade… but she had fairly captured him, and all that was his belonged to her now. Nikaru pulled the unconscious man's hood down… he looked to be a few years younger than she, but still a man… barely. A strange green tattoo ran below his left eye, two simple streaks. His hair was a washed-out blonde that seemed to plague Hylians. His face had some scarring, specifically along the forehead, his right cheek, and a small scar on his chin. He was far from ugly though, Nikaru decided, turning his head by the chin, inspecting him. Many of the older women would trade handsomely for him, should she grow tired of her prize, possibly as much as a horse… possibly. She liked his face though… she would keep him, unless given an offer she could not refuse…
The young gerudo woman gazed at her new sword. This though, she would not trade for anything.
Impa held the Sheikah gossip stone tightly in her palm, forced to watch the ambush unfold, too far away to do anything to help. An unarmed sheikah stared down the moblin commander, while her fighters fanned out, trapping the raiders against the cliff wall. Everyone ignored the gentle current that tugged at ankles. The other moblins readied their weapons. With a shrieking snarl, the moblins charged. The warrior dove into the mass of enemies, ahead of her men, wielding only fist and foot… but every blow hit with the force of a sledgehammer. Impa smirked. She was forgoing more destructive Shadow magic in favor of simply enhancing her physical attributes.
"There is another group of moblins approaching your rear, Aris," Impa said into the gossip stone. The monk slammed an open palm into one of the moblins, hurling him away with the force of a charging horse, not even bothering to look at her target. Instead, she was looking down the canyon, to where the next group of Moblins was closing. She stalked through the melee, batting moblins aside, intent on the new threat. The second group was nearly three times the size of the group her men were fighting. Her talents with Shadow magic did not lend themselves to large, area of effect type spells, instead, she was a spear, finely focused destruction, instead of a wildfire.
Her tattooed eyes scanned the canyon walls for a solution, and she found it. The young woman smiled mirthlessly behind her mask, and spun her hands, drawing Shadow to her, like a lover. It came, and cloaked her, layer upon layer, a slave to her will. The charging moblins began to slow, catching sight of the pulsating shadows that cloaked this pathetic human. Too late, they saw the all-seeing eye of the Sheikah sigil, and realized their peril.
Aris thrust her finger out, and unleashed the Shadows in a concentrated beam, blasting the cliff face high above, etching a deep furrow along the ancient rock. Then she calmly planted her fists on her hips, watching the Moblins curiously. Nothing happened.
Courage renewed, the monsters resumed their charge, they would kill this shadow warrior, and their master would reward them well—
Aris watched without hurry as the moblins charged, too stupid to realize that the cliff face was slowly beginning to break away. They ran right under it, as Aris had intended. Within moments, seventy monsters died, like insects.
Aris glanced back at her men, who were finishing up with the few moblins still breathing. One young man had eviscerated his enemy, and was now blinding the helpless enemy. If memory served, he was one of the war-orphans, who had been forced to watch his family die by Ganondorf's whim. She thought his methods… unimaginative. With a flick, she sent a rope of shadow slithering along the ground. The tendril darted into the dying moblin, and suddenly, its flesh began to peel back. The boy yelped, and jumped away, watching the moblin as it was slowly turned inside out. Its scream was high and unnatural, in agony no creature was meant to experience and yet live. Aris's magic kept it alive until the very end.
Her men stared at her, slightly unnerved by her actions. She did not care. She'd been forced to bury her mother when she was seventeen. Well, the pieces Aris could find, after the moblins were done raping and then cutting her up, piece by piece. Her mother had lived through the first half of that as well.
Impa watched from the stone, unsurprised by Aris's actions.
"Aris, you cannot waste any more time. Get to your next position," Impa reminded her.
Link dreamed of Malon. He lay in the glade once more, and the girl was still young, carefully wrapping his hurts, and running her fingers cross his shoulders.
Nikaru was worried. Her catch was still unconscious. His body was lean, but the muscle was strong, the mark of an agile warrior. Many of his wounds were shallow, and had been crudely bandaged… but it seemed that he had been bled, heavily, from those wounds, shallow though they were. It was very curious. It had been a full day since his capture. Nikaru wondered what to name him… since these foreigners had such dull, colorless labels. She remembered the color of his eyes, amethyst, just like the jewel… but that was not a good name. She needed something that captured both his mind, and his spirit… she stroked the handle of the sword across her back while she thought.
She froze, in the firelight. The man's eyes had opened… and cold fires burned in them.
She touched the sword again: perhaps she had not caught a man after all. She watched as he slowly tested his bonds, the leather creaking… but his eyes never waivered, his hate burning at her… but Nikaru was no meek Hylian wench. She had fought in six battles. She was a proven warrior of the sands, and now, possessed a man, and an exceptional sword.
She raised her chin, "I am your master," she told him, in stilted Hylian. She hated the language, so lifeless, but it was necessary to speak the language of the conquered, since they were too stupid to learn a better tongue, not yet, anyway.
He did not respond, but had apparently decided that he could not break his bonds.
"Good," she said, as one might praise a horse.
"You are my property now, and we will begin your training immediately," she told him. His eyes dared her to come closer, so that he might wound her in some fashion.
She struck him with the back of her hand, raising a red welt on his cheek, but he made no sound, and glared at her renewed.
"You can live in pain," she told him, then leaned forward, and caressed the other cheek with the back of the hand she had struck him with, "Or you can live happily," she continued. He was quick, but she pulled her fingers away moments ahead of his teeth. She slapped him again, and the man leaned back, kicking her in the chest with his bound feet, throwing her backwards.
Sejuno smirked, watching Nikaru begin the process of breaking in her man. It was rather similar to breaking a stallion, she supposed. From Nikaru's expression, she didn't mind. The challenge simply made the inevitable prize that much sweeter… but there would be bruises in the morning, for both.
The gerudo woman had called it a night, and was now sleeping nearby. Link was securely tied and secured to several stakes. His body throbbed. He had given almost as much as he'd taken, but… she had the Master Sword. Navi was hidden in his hair, and hurriedly translated to him what the guards were saying. Apparently, he was the topic of discussion.
Navi inspected the locking mechanism for his hobble. She felt inside the slot with her hand, peering intently. She could feel only two tumblers… but the leather thongs were a different story. One of the gerudo turned to glance at Link, to check on him, and Navi darted to hide behind his foot. She peeked out, slightly, waiting until the gerudo looked away. She would need to find something sharp, but small enough that she could lift…
She felt so weak. There was so much evil. It clung to her, like spider-webbing, weighing her down, slowing her… sapping her magic… she felt like she was moving underwater.
Nikaru believed she was making good progress with the man. He no longer tried to bite her, but now, simply ignored her touch. She was surprised how quickly his bruises faded. He seemed to heal remarkably quickly, no matter the injury, it rarely lasted longer than a day. Any daughter she bore from him would be formidable. Such a child would inevitably grow to take a place in her Lord Ganondorf's personal guard…
Nikaru inspected the strange instrument from her man's belt. It was made of blue stone, but it felt far too light. She experimentally blew on the stem, but only produced a few harsh notes. Embarrassed, she lowered the instrument.
"I can play," a voice whispered. Surprised, Nikaru glanced at the bound man, who was watching her intently. "Let me play," he said again. Nikaru glanced at the other warriors, but they weren't paying attention, attending their various duties. Slowly, she set the instrument into the bound hands of her man. He could still wrap his fingers around the instrument, and he brought the device to his lips. A quiet, slow song of rolling notes issued forth. It wasn't stirring or even interesting. There was silence for a moment. Then, he began to play, his warm-up complete.
He played. Music exploded into life around the camp, and everyone paused to look at the source. Something curious happened. It seemed that a vision came over them, because they could both hear the music, and see something else as well… for although the stood on the blasted earth of the plains, they also ran through the tree tops like children, chasing the wind and the notes of a song only they could hear, laughing and playing. This was the unending childhood, because they would rise with the sun, and do this all over again tomorrow… to do anything else was inconceivable.
Link played, pouring everything into the music, his despair, hope, anger, frustration… everything. He did not notice the strange expressions on the Gerudo, but Navi did… and she also saw that magic was emanating from the Ocarina of Time, small, weak waves of magic washed over the camp. Navi only caught glimpses, but they seemed to be… memories.
Finally, the song came to an end, and the man lowered the instrument. Nikaru, freed from the spell, was the only one to notice a small tear that traced down his cheek, before dropping invisibly to the dirt. The echoes of the man's music still resonated in her blood, and the proud woman had a moment of weakness. She embraced the man, this time, without guile, simply to comfort. She felt the man tense, and the wall rose again, just as solid and impregnable as before. Rebuffed, Nikaru retreated, slightly stung by the rejection… but only slightly. She had time to wear him down. He would be hers, eventually.
The next day the gerudo band came into sight of the leading edge of the Black-Forest. Years ago, they had tried both fire, and logging to flush the Forest spirits out into the open, to kill them… only to find that some trees could not burn, and turned aside any axe or saw.
The man made a strangled gasp beside Nikaru. She looked over. His jaw was open, horror and shock etched onto his young face, gazing at the expanse of razed forest. A sob escaped him, and Nikaru peered at him intently. She had never seen him show emotion besides anger or hatred. Words tumbled from his lips like tears, or rain drops running down a tree's leaves. Nikaru did not recognize the language, but she knew it wasn't Hylian. The young man wept bitterly for several minutes, and Nikaru felt a pang of sympathy, but that was all. He was a foreigner, and a man. He was just property.
