Chapter 7: Dreams of the Dead
Kakariko Village was built by the mysterious Sheikah tribe when the Hylian dynasty was in its infancy. It had been a center of command, a place of living and training in absolute secrecy. The entirety of the little town was contained within a red-rock canyon in the shadow of Death Mountain. These buildings had once housed Sheikah soldiers. Now they served as shops, common houses, apartments, and even an inn. The ramshackle houses had not grown outward; they scaled the canyon in many different levels, like terraces. Boarders at the inn came to Kakariko for business and pleasure: in addition to the ancient history in the graveyard and the remnants of Sheikah culture, the hot springs were a popular attraction famous for their healing powers. However, the townspeople knew the most important part of their village was the ancient Sanctuary.
Luda and her father, Renado, lived in the Sanctuary. Long ago it had been a temple where the Sheikah performed ceremonies and healed the sick. Renado was the shaman, chief healer and spiritual leader. He offered advice to the townspeople and gave them natural remedies when they were ill. Though their supplies were limited, Renado had taken an oath to help Kakariko and its people whenever they needed him.
Luda had lived in the town her entire life. She loved all its inhabitants, even the bomb maker whose midafternoon hours spent tinkering in his workshop produced odd, earsplitting explosions. She loved the graveyard, where the dead whispered in the ground in a voice she could almost understand. She and her father kept both the living and the dead safe.
Every morning Luda awoke and helped her father prepare breakfast. After a quick prayer, they ate. The latter half of the morning was dedicated to tending the Sanctuary; sweeping the floors, swapping the incense, lighting the lamps. Luda did not mind the work. It was a daily routine, one she appreciated for its predictability. At noon she was released to play, even though playing was an immature thing for a girl of fourteen years. But she still played, sometimes pretending to be a princess in hiding, sometimes a renegade soldier, sometimes a powerful enchantress.
One hot day in midsummer, Luda decided to explore the graveyard again. She carefully tidied the area around the burial mounds and watered the tiny flowers that grew in the patches of grass. She enjoyed flowers, delicate blooms of pink, purple, and blue, a riot of color in a dusty and barren landscape.
Finished with her gardening, Luda wandered back into town. She wanted to meditate beside Eldin Spring before the afternoon prayer service. As the awkward, slumped shape of the Sanctuary came into view, she felt a powerful wave of affection for the place. Everything so well-loved and familiar. Her place. Her home.
Suddenly she stopped. A prickling feeling crept up her spine. Her mouth tightened. Something was not right. Her eyes wandered along the crates carefully stacked against the rock-and-clay walls. Some had been knocked over and lay in the dirt. The crates fell over often; Luda had no idea why the sight of them filled her with such dread. The little two-wheeled cart she and her father used to carry supplies was not neatly placed against the boxes, either. There appeared to be something sprawled out inside of it, a nondescript gray something that did not move.
Luda crept over to it, wary. If it was an animal, she had no weapons to defend herself, only rocks to throw. If she screamed, Father would come. He would protect her. She hesitated, standing before the cart, poised on the edge of flight. The figure appeared to be a human, huddled up in the fetal position with his or her face toward the wall, dressed all in gray, dirty clothes. Perhaps it was a vagabond seeking shelter in the heat of the day.
"Hello?" asked Luda. "Are you all right?"
The person did not move, but a low groan issued from him. Luda shook his shoulder. "Sir? Miss?"
The person gasped and sat up. Luda's eyes widened. All the color drained from her face. She yelped in shock and horror, barely able to comprehend what sat before her. She had no words for the sight she beheld.
The person was a girl, perhaps twelve or thirteen. Her skin was covered in horrific burns, her clothes turned entirely to ash. Her hair, gray from soot residue, had been almost entirely burned off. A sword glittered in a frayed belt around her waist. A melted dagger shimmered in a puddle beside her hand. Luda saw the white sheen over the girl's eyes. She was blind. All around her eyes were thick rings of charred, blackened flesh. "Miss?" whispered Luda. Her heart pounded in her chest.
The girl's eyes had been wandering in all directions as if trying to see who had addressed her. At the sound of Luda's voice, her eyes fixed, milky and hazy, on a spot just above Luda's shoulder. "Fire!" she cried in a grating voice. "Oh goddess, the children, what are you waiting for, get the children—"The rest of her sentence was lost in a gargling, choking whine. Her legs and arms began to twitch and flail wildly. Luda screamed for her father, trying to hold the girl's head steady. She fought, drumming her fingers on the hard-pressed earth. Renado came at a dead run, but by the time he reached the girl, she had stopped twitching, and seemed to pass into natural unconsciousness.
Renado knelt beside the girl and ordered Luda to prepare a pallet in the Sanctuary. She quickly ran off to obey. Only moments after Luda's departure, the stranger's eyes flickered open. Renado stared, speechless. Her eyes were milky white, but underneath the whiteness they appeared yellow. "Fire?" she whispered in a husky, choked voice.
Renado smiled down at her reassuringly, though he felt anything but confident. "There is no fire, friend. You are safe."
She shook her head. He winced when he heard the ripple of popping bones that followed this movement. "Fire . . ." she said, as though it caused her great pain to clearly enunciate. "Fire."
"I don't understand."
"I'm sorry, Highness." She sighed. There was a grating sound in it he didn't like, as though something were blocking her throat. She closed her eyes, weary to the bone. "The modern term is dondei. I didn't mean to get it wrong."
Renado lifted the girl, careful not to jolt her body in case of broken bones. He took her into the sanctuary and eased her limp body onto the pallet Luda had prepared. The stranger didn't open her eyes again. Luda attempted to undress her. She tugged the corner of the girl's ruined shirt and it disintegrated in her hand. She dropped the scrap of cloth like it had suddenly burst into flames. "Should we bathe her?" she asked. She stared at the still gray face as though fascinated. "She's covered in soot."
"I don't think she can be moved much farther," responded the shaman absently. He turned to his table and began to pull bottles off the shelf, muttering to himself. Vita, one of the attendants, entered the Sanctuary, having heard the commotion outside, and immediately came to their aid. Between Luda and Vita, the girl was cleaned and changed into a shift. Renado surveyed the burns and scars striping her flesh with a critical eye. He frowned. "What happened to you?" he wondered. "Where did those burns come from?" He turned back to his table and picked up a bottle full of burn-salve. "Has someone been torturing you, little one?"
"Father, look at her arms."
He looked closer. Luda rubbed a patch of soot from the girl's skin. It wiped away easily, revealing the pale skin beneath. There were fiery runes carved into her arms, her throat, her legs. Vita took a cloth and wiped the girl's hands clean. There were runes on her wrists too. Awed, Luda glanced at her father. "Why?" she asked in a choked voice.
"Signs of the Gods," he responded. The runes glowed orange, a secret heat deep in her skin gleaming from the very core of her soul.
"What do we do about them, Father?"
"We do nothing," said Renado simply. "They are her mark, her symbolto bear." He peered her face, pinched with effort and pain. "For now we can make her comfortable and see if she lives or dies."
The girl slept for three straight days. After that period she remained mostly comatose; her only interaction with the outside world was to scream in a foreign tongue, or disjointed sentences in Hylian. As she screamed, she rocked. Hands raised up in the air, she called, pleading, for a King. Other times she merely lay, muttering, tears running down her face. Sometimes she appeared to sing. Luda and Vita tried to bring her food, but she was never conscious. Eventually an anxious Luda resorted to tipping potions down the girl's throat. Meanwhile, Renado had his own challenges to face with his new charge. No ointment, cream, or poultice dimmed the glow of the reddish-orange runes, but gradually they began to change color. Renado assumed this must mean they were healing. For the burns he applied a yellow paste he had learned to make from an old Sheikah woman. Most people would have given up on the child, but Renado's oath to assist even the poorest of beggars forbade him from such an act of insensitivity. He abhorred anyone unwilling to save an innocent youth simply because it seemed difficult. He would make any effort to heal her wounds.
Renado and Luda worked on the small girl for days, toiling over her blistering, stinging burns. Eventually, they had to move her into the Inn, finding that a mere pallet in the Sanctuary did not support her frail body. The girl needed a place where water was easily accessible, and Renado felt that the Inn would be more comfortable when she awoke. The innkeeper, Myles, was more than welcoming of the poor waif. He was a man with two daughters, and found Renado's request to use his upstairs room more than reasonable. Every morning, Luda rose early to walk down the dusty street and check on the girl, bringing with her a basket of potions and salves, but every morning there was no change. The child remained, unconscious but alive, in between sleeping and death, hovering somewhere above the endless oblivion. Late at night, when she cried out in her misery to the unknown face of His Majesty, Renado wondered if she dreamed.
She did, in fact, dream.
The dreams would change her life forever.
Maria, wake.
But she did not want to wake. She wanted to lie here forever, hiding away from the massive fire that burned just outside the cave she inhabited. But something told her that if she stayed, she would never escape. She turned her head away from the light. Behind her, farther into the cave, was a black gate. It hung open on rusty hinges, forlorn and abandoned. A freezing blanket of mist drifted around the opening, coating the ground in white frost. She lay at the gates of death, and her only two choices were fire or eternal sleep.
Rise, coward, and face me.
She stared out into the world beyond her shadowy sanctuary. A winged creature stood just outside the mouth of the cave. It appeared humanoid, with soot-colored wings. The tip of every feather glowed with reddish fire. It's the same color as Luna's eyes, she thought wildly. The figure was motionless, a sword or a staff clenched in one hand. Maria crawled to the entrance, every muscle screaming with agony, her trembling fingers digging into the dirt, seeking any kind of handhold. Her own sword, she noticed belatedly, was gone. In fact, everything was. She wore only a shapeless gray dress. Her skin was the same color as the dress. She rubbed her arm with one finger. The gray came away at a touch: ash, grimed into her skin. She scrubbed harder, revealing the normal, healthy color beneath. She stared at her arm as though she had never seen it before, helpless to ignore the reddish-orange runes that marched around the flesh of her wrist. What could they mean?
Face me, Child of the Sun. Face me or face the Scales of Judgment in the Court of the Afterlife.
But I'm afraid, she responded, her voice feeble and disjointed. She could picture herself in her mind; a weak, pathetic child, lying stretched out on her belly like a dog before a fireplace. I don't want to. She hated the whine in her voice. It hurts!
Puling, sniveling coward, stand up and face your fate! Or cross through the gates into the afterlife, and save me many hours of wasted effort!
That remark stung even her dreaming self. She growled and raised her head. It felt as though someone had smashed her several times with a hammer. She groaned, supporting her tender skull in one hand, too weak to lift it very far from the earthen ground.
That's good. Now. Turn and face me.
Her neck popped and crackled as she turned her head toward the cavern entrance. The sound of bones grinding against one another inside her skin was enough to make her sick, but she still moved. She looked up into its face: pale, masculine. He had the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
What . . . what do you want? Maria asked him, captivated by his unearthly face.
I want you to live, said the man grimly. His mental voice was strong, echoing in the chambers of her mind. He raised his staff. But you won't unless you force yourself to stand up and face me.
She hesitated, unwilling to try. But . . . I'm tired. Let me rest, please?
No! You must stand up! Now!
Who are you? That hateful whining quality would not leave her voice.
You will get up. You will face your fate, Maria Dragmire. Now or never.
Please.
Get. Up.
The girl bared her teeth. I can't!
You can and you will! Get up, Maria, and face your fate.
Who are you? She demanded, despairing. What do you want? Why won't you just leave me alone?
My name is Doschei.There it was, then. A name. Finally she could give this nameless stranger an identity. I am a servant to the Gods. I act as their messenger, their protector, their ambassador. His tunic, she noted, was white, trimmed with gold. Around his waist was a belt woven out of three colored cords; red, green, and blue.
You are . . . a messenger?
He spread his wings. They glowed fiercely. Step out of the cavern, Maria. Escape the dead and the shadow of your fear. Your pain is only mental.
Maria tilted her head. The thudding hammer-blows all along her body seemed real enough. I can't get up, she said helplessly. Consciousness was gradually washing away, turning to grayness before her eyes. Her vision clouded; she shook her head, trying to focus. She couldn't remember ever feeling so bone-weary in her entire life. I'm so tired . . . I'm sorry, Doschei
Do you want to die, knowing that Lady Farore hates a coward?
She scowled. I'm not a coward.
'I'm not a coward,' Doschei mocked. All you've ever done is hide, run, beg for your life. You have the power to destroy anyone in your path. Did you know that?
No . . . .
You have the power to do anything you want. Your father was one of the most powerful spell casters in the world. And your mother was no parlor magician either. You know nothing of yourself and what you're capable of! Could you quit cowering and face your true power?
Gritting her teeth, Maria pulled herself up into a sitting position and rested her head on her knees. It was excruciating, but she endured the pain by sheer force of will. How do you know my mother and father? she asked him.
Doschei's eyes glowed with grudging approval. There are many worlds, girl. You are a product of another. I know this well. You are my responsibility. Now rise, weakling. Or I will punish you forevermore. The girl shook her head, too afraid and too weak. Doschei was angry now. His beautiful blue eyes glowed in the black light. Get up! Do it!
Maria actually snarled. Every fiber of her turned to determination. Fear was replaced by a single imperative: obey. She had been beaten before. She had found her feet even as blows rained down upon her back, living to stand and resume her position. Obedience was ingrained in her, fueled by defiance for the weaknesses of the flesh. This was just another test, another late night in a stifling forge submitting to violence from a madman. She forced herself to her feet with one titanic effort. Her muscles shrieked in protest, her head roared with a blinding white agony . . . and then it was gone.
Stunned, Maria examined herself. Her legs trembled with effort, but they did not hurt. The burns had vanished. Her vision was clear. Doschei? she asked. How . . . .?
You killed your own pain. You fought against your base impulses and won. He actually smiled. Pretty good, for a mortal.
She smiled. So. Can I go home now? I'm rather tired of being injured here.
Doschei shook his head. Unfortunately, Maria, you cannot go home until you finish your quest.
Maria sighed. I thought so. What am I to do?
You were given an assistant in this quest. A Twili by the name of Luna. Think of her as a human compass. She points the way to your final objective, but she doesn't precisely know what it is.
Do you?
No. Din would not tell me. She has taken an interest in you, though. As a Daughter of the Sun, you are certainly one of Din's favored. He chuckled at the hot blush that spread across Maria's cheeks. Even if you are as pale as a lily, you still have the blood of a Gerudo. And you have passed Din's Test, the first in a series of tests you will undergo in this dimension.
Maria's eyes widened. Horror filled her like a suffocating fog. I have to do this again?
Not precisely. Din gave you a glimpse of what could happen in this world. Not necessarily what will happen, if that relieves you. She wanted you to experience fire.
So she put me in a volcano?
Doschei chuckled. Maria couldn't understand what he found humorous, but it was none of her business anyway. Zant actually left you there. A suggestion from his God, who heard it directly from Din's lips.
Whatever the Gods will, I suppose, said Maria, sighing again. So I am to follow Luna to . . . wherever?
Precisely. Along the way, you will be given challenges. Choices to make. Ways to improve this world. This world, called Anava by the Messenger's Guild—of which, you may have noticed, I am a member—is preparing for an intense change. Whether this change turns into a cataclysm rests not on your back, but the backs of others involved in your quest. You play a small role in something far bigger; you are setting the stage for a Hero to arise. In your world, this Hero was never needed. Here, he is essential.
Maria closed her eyes, trying to absorb this information. A cataclysm? What did that have to do with a desert rat from another world? Who is this Hero?
His name is Link.
Tell me about him, demanded Maria.
Doschei shook his head. In time, I will explain. For now, you must leave this place and find your way back into your own body. I will help you. You must regain consciousness in the physical world, and you must complete your quest. Luna will be waiting for you when you return. Are you ready, Maria?
The girl glanced over her shoulder. The gate still swung slightly on its rusty hinge. To be dead would be a miracle. At least then she could join her family. But while King Ganondorf and his wife were dead, there were people she loved still alive in her own world. Nabooru. Her aunt Rasa, a woman she had not yet met. Runa, who tried to teach her to heal. Rane, Seva, even Enari. Family and friends. She needed to go home.
She met Doschei's sparkling eyes. I am ready, she said.
Doschei held out one hand. A flower bloomed in it, a flower full of radiance. We will see each other again, Maria Dragmire. Luck to you.
Maria closed her eyes and rose into oblivion.
Painburningdeathfireohgodsmy lungsicannotbreathehelplunal unalunaluna—
Her eyes flew open. She drew a ragged breath, her first conscious breath in this living world. It felt like daggers running down the vulnerable flesh of her throat, but it was still air; cool, clear, and wonderful. She pulled too much into her lungs at once and felt her airway close in protest. She coughed, choked, and forced herself to spit out the word, "Fire?"
There was a rustle of movement beside her. She sat up, ignoring the pain in her back and head, ready to run or fight. But it was just a man, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing some kind of simple robe. His long brown hair framed a hawk-like face.
"Where am I?" she whispered. It hurt to speak any louder.
"You're in Kakariko Village," said the man. His voice was deep and warm. He radiated peace like an aura, revealing the well of calm and serenity ingrained in his very bones. "Welcome back to the land of the living."
Maria relaxed. She allowed her body to roll back down into the warmth of the mattress. She was alive.
"Who are you?" she whispered, relishing the feel of words sliding along her tongue. It was a relief not to hear his voice clamoring in her head.
"My name is Renado," the man told her. He filled a little stone cup with water and lifted her into a sitting position. She drank slowly, not trusting her body yet. He sat down again and watched her, not saying a word. She was comfortable with his silence. She had never been one for words, and she suspected that soon he would start interrogating her. When he opened his mouth to speak, she braced herself for the questioning.
Renado surprised her. Instead of asking a question, he quietly said, "You can see."
Maria tilted her head. "What?"
"Your eyes. They were white when we found you. You appeared . . . blinded. But they're . . . amber now."
"I should hope," replied Maria.
"Is amber their normal color?" Maria nodded. Renado refilled her water cup. He seemed to study her, as though assessing her reactions to his comments. "Do you remember what happened to you, Miss?" he asked.
"Maria," she replied. "And . . . I don't remember."
Renado frowned, intent upon her answer. "Has someone been hurting you? There are scars and burns all across your body. Most are recent, but some . . . some are old."
Maria pondered on his comment for a while, trying to figure out the best way to answer. "Once," she said, choosing her words with care. "Once, someone hurt me. But . . . these wounds are my own doing."
"What happened?"
"Is there a volcano around?"
Renado drew in a hissing breath of shock. "You were exploring in Death Mountain?"
Though many things were different, it appeared that the names of things were similar here. "I was not exploring," retorted Maria, honestly offended. What did the man think she was? An idiot? "I . . . I witnessed it explode. I was inside of the explosion." Almost immediately she regretted her words. Oh Gods, why did I . . . .
Renado fixed her with a stern stare. "We live in the shadow of the Death Mountain Crater," he told her. "There have been no eruptions in my lifetime."
Maria frowned, affronted. If he had called her a liar, she might have struck him, shaman or no. "No . . . I know this. I . . . I had a vision."
"Are you a prophet?" He leaned close to her, his attention rapt. He seemed very interested in what she had to say. "Did you see Death Mountain come to life? When? Today? Tomorrow?"
"No," she said, frustrated. She sipped some water to wash the dry feeling out of her mouth, then took a deep breath and began again. This time her voice was stronger, more confident. "The vision I had . . . it was something that could have been. I . . . I was tested. And I think . . . I think I won."
"Tested by the Gods?" inquired Renado.
Maria hesitated. Damn. I've said too much. Why did I bring this up?
Renado touched the girl's cheek. It was warm but not feverish. She blinked at the contact. "I only ask," he said quietly, "because of the marks on your limbs."
"What marks?" Maria demanded.
"The hieroglyphs."
Maria suddenly remembered the glowing symbols she had seen in her dream. "You don't mean . . . ." She glanced down at her wrist. There they were, shimmering in the lamplight, words written in some arcane language upon her skin. But there was something different about them. In her vision, the letters had been orange and red, like fire burning deep within her. These runes were bluish. Like . . . .
Luna.
It was unmistakable. The runes were Twili markings.
Maria looked up at Renado. "I don't understand," she said helplessly.
"We assumed they were a sign from the Gods." Renado's voice was touched with awe. "You have an incredible burden to bear, Miss Maria."
"Please," she replied, "just Maria." She tried to smile. It was difficult.
"Well, just Maria," said Renado, pleased when her smile widened, "I should leave you to your rest." He had seen the way her eyelids fluttered almost closed only to be again forced open. "But I have one more question for you, if I may?"
"Be my guest," said Maria, still smiling. It hurt, but Renado was kind. He put her at ease.
"Where do you come from? Forgive me for asking, but . . . in all my life I have not seen hair as red as yours. And your eyes . . . I have never seen golden eyes before."
Maria's smile shrank slightly. "Have you never seen the Gerudo people?"
Renado frowned. "There is a Gerudo Desert . . . but there have been no inhabitants in that wasteland for centuries."
Maria contemplated this for a moment. Loss and sorrow bled through her soul, leaving a vast emptiness. The Gerudo were gone? Was she the last Gerudo left? It's not even like I'm an inhabitant of this world. I don't belong. Has this world moved on and left my people behind? "What happened?"
"The last remnants of that tribe died out . . . years ago. There are some redheaded women still alive, but no men." The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. "I am told there is only one man in their entire tribe. If so, I have never seen him."
Maria felt her mouth twitch and was helpless to stop a sneer. "I have never seen him either."
"The legends say he was some kind of magician." Renado spoke mildly, but Maria sensed something in his voice. He didn't buy her story about being a Gerudo. In a world that had long since abandoned the desert tribe, she would have been surprised if he had. But her identity was her own, a truth she could carry with her like a secret flame. She raised her head a little higher, even though her neck muscles felt tight and stressed. For the first time, she was proud to be a Gerudo. Perhaps in time she could be could be a proud Dragmire, too.
"I've heard that too," she replied, equally sedate. "I'm sure he achieved great things in his life."
Renado's expression changed. Maria couldn't quite pin his emotion down, but she felt satisfaction nonetheless. Take that, she thought, smug, though she had no idea what there was to be smug about.
Renado inclined his head. "I am sure," he replied. "Now Miss Maria, I will leave you to your rest. Tomorrow I will return after breakfast and bring you some clothes and something to eat. If you feel strong enough, you can take a walk."
Maria smiled. "Thank you, Renado," she said. "Gods bless."
Renado bowed. "Gods bless, Maria," he replied, and left the room.
When he was gone Maria sank into her pillows. Talking was exhausting work. She closed her eyes against a wave of drowsiness. Tomorrow she would see what the future held for her, but tonight, she needed her rest.
As she slipped into unconsciousness, it occurred to her that she had not rattled Renado in the least. In fact, she may have given him another reason to distrust her.
Oh well, she thought sleepily, I'll deal with that when it comes . . . .
Blackness enfolded her in a warm blanket. She slept.
Renado called a private meeting that night to discuss the girl from nowhere.
Luda and Vita set out chairs and cushions for a small group of Kakariko townsfolk. They filed in one by one, and by nine they had all arrived. Barnes, as usual, was the last to saunter in.
Renado had not sent the assembly message to everyone, only the people he trusted. Barnes may have been an odd man with unusual habits and a brusque personality, but he and Renado had been friends for years. He took a seat on a cushion, eyed the woman beside him, and waited expectantly for Renado to begin.
"I suppose you know why I brought you here," said the shaman. Everyone fell silent and stared up at him like children anticipating a story. "The girl Luda found woke up this evening, around six. She told me . . . an interesting story. Her name is Maria, and she claims to be a Gerudo."
The townspeople stirred. "Gerudo?" asked Liana, the owner of the general store. She toyed with a lock of white-blonde hair and murmured, "isn't that what the man—"
"Yes, yes," said Renado crisply, cutting her off. "It is."
"Such a man," remarked Jon, Liana's wife.
"Such a horse," retorted Barnes. "I've never seen a horse that size! And eyes like fire, too!"
There was a mutter from the small assembly.
"A man of that size," said Jon. He opened his mouth to say more, but Liana put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He subsided and took her hand in his own.
"The man is not our concern right now," said Renado. "The question is the girl."
"If you're asking whether I'll charge her for the room or not, Renado," Myles spoke up, "I will not ask for any kind of repayment—"
Myles, too, was cut off by the exasperated shaman. "I am not asking about money," he said patiently. "I only want to know what it is we're supposed to do with her."
"That man was asking about little red-haired girls," said Liana. "And heaven knows what such a strange man would want with a girl . . . ."
"But are we safe if we allow her to stay?" demanded Barnes. "You saw what that . . . man . . . that magician . . . did to me! I'm lucky to be alive!"
Renado resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Then once she is healed, Barnes, I will ask her if she plans to leave. We will prepare her a pack of clothes and food and send her on her way. She is already well stocked with weaponry; Luda and Vita noticed that much when they undressed her. The girls will take her to the hot springs tomorrow and allow her to wash the ache out of her muscles."
"Do you think that's wise?" asked Liana nervously, still twisting her hair around her fingers. "She is very young . . . ."
"If she wants to leave I cannot stop her," was Renado's dry reply. "She is marked by fate; you can see that clearly. Whatever her fate, I cannot keep her here. She has to do this on her own."
"It's a death sentence sending a child into Hyrule alone!" protested Liana. "These are dangerous times, Renado!"
Renado silenced her with a solemn stare. "If it is her fate," he said simply, "we cannot deny it."
The rest of their talk was fruitless and dull, full of pointless arguments and angry accusations. At eleven the townspeople left unsatisfied, wondering about the mysterious strangers that had invaded their town, and what would happen next.
Luna came to her at midnight, as Maria knew she would.
She crept into the little room with downcast eyes, holding her cloak tightly around herself, as if it could protect her from the predicted barrage of angry words that would surely follow. She spoke not a word, but stepped to Maria's bedside with trembling lips.
Maria had awoken the moment she felt Luna enter the inn. She was awake now, watching Luna with an unreadable expression. Finally, she said, "Zant had a trap for me."
Luna started visibly. At her words, a tear rolled down the Twili's face. "He put me in the dark," she said. There was a hitching, uneven tone to her voice, as if she were close to breaking down and bawling. "I couldn't escape. It was like going to sleep for a long time . . . and then when I woke up, I was alone in a huge field. I walked . . . and I walked . . . for hours. Then I found you. And . . . now I'm here." She raised her arms and then let them fall, a gesture of pure helplessness. "Don't be angry with me, please?"
Maria tilted her head. "I'm not angry with you," she told Luna. "I went away for a while too. I had a vision. And . . . I was tested by Din."
Luna's jaw dropped. She looked like a fool, but her astonishment was too great to remain impassive. "The Goddess of Power Herself?"
"Yes. She wanted to test me. I guess I did all right, huh?" She chuckled and winced. Her head still ached something fierce. "In the morning we can get back on the trail, eh? Finish this quest and perhaps not die in the process?"
Luna shifted on her feet. "That's the problem, Maria," she said, sounding embarrassed. "Um . . . you know how I told you I'm being guided by the Gods?"
Maria scowled. "Yes?"
"I . . . for the longest time it felt like I had fishhook in my head, pulling me, us, one way or another. I could almost see the line drawn in the dirt, subtly, you know, that showed us where to go. Now . . . I see nothing. I don't know what happened, Maria, but the path has been closed."
Maria closed her eyes. She felt crushed beneath a sickening weight of dismay and horror. The world seemed to fade before her eyes. Her teeth found the cut on her lip and bit down; the fresh pain brought the clarity back into her vision. "Oh, no, Luna, what do we do?" She heard a whine in her voice, thought of Doschei, and winced. She could not let this setback defeat her. "What can we do if we can't find out how to go home?"
Luna sat on the bed and took her hand. "We're going to do whatever we can," she said, sounding more confident than she felt. "When we leave this . . . charming little village . . . we can find the path again. Right?"
Maria tried to smile. "Right." She squeezed Luna's hand. She was unused to this kind of contact, but somehow it felt good. Comforting. Like a mother's touch. Impulsively she sat up and threw her arms around Luna's shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered into the flame of the Twili's hair. "Thank you for being my friend."
Luna patted her head awkwardly. "All right, I can tell you need to rest. You're getting all sentimental."
Maria chuckled and wiped her eyes. "I do need rest," she whispered. She lay back and sank into the pillow. "Good night, Luna."
"Good night kid," the woman replied. She dove into Maria's shadow and remained there, watching over her charge, for the rest of the night.
Maria's dreams were filled with her father's dying face, the feeling of falling from the Sanctuary roof, and the echoing shriek of Zant's mad laughter.
This was a little rushed. It might be a little flawed. Please review and let me know what I screwed up on.
