Chapter Six
Shipwrecked

Air. Pure, glorious, air. It filled his lungs, in, and then out. In, then out. Deep breaths, easy breaths, not overwhelmed by the waves trying to drown him.

Sand. Dry, marvellous sand. Solid ground under his body, still, unmoving. It was hard, it was firm, it was safety at last.

Light. Beautiful, spectacular light. The darkness was gone, the storm clouds extinguished. The shining dawn lit up the sand and the skies, a clear, fresh, new day.

Rael groaned with exhaustion, writing painfully on the sand. He was utterly spent, his body a spent wreck, and yet... he was alive. Lying on a shore of southern Hyrule, he tried to piece together fragments of memory, recalling how he had come to be where he was. He could only remember patches, thoughts and feelings of great hardship. The ocean had tried with all its might to consume him, but his determined will to keep breathing, to keep his mind working, his heart beating, had somehow brought him through the shadow. But...

Daran. Rael lifted his head weakly, looking up and down the shoreline. His vision was blurry, but he was quite sure that Daran was not there. What had happened? As he thought about his friend, floods of memory came rushing back to him. A Kairin attack... the ship had splintered and shattered into two... a dark figure had attacked Daran and... he said something. 'The dawn is rising'. Had he drowned with the rest of the ship? Surely he was dead, but if Rael had survived himself...

Rael dragged his knees forwards, and struggled up into a kneeling position. He was hungry, and thirsty, and tired. Worst of all, for the first time in weeks and months, he was utterly alone.

"Hey he's got up!" exclaimed a voice nearby. Rael gazed around blurrily, trying to make sense of the sound.

"Better tell the boss," muttered another voice, "go fetch him." It was an effort to lift his head, but Rael was able to discern two pairs of legs standing close by.

"You go!" said the first, "I'm taking the credit for this one." There were footsteps as a pair of feet began to advance upon Rael.

"Son of death blight me if yer do," said the second voice, with more authority. The other pair of feet stomped towards Rael, the second man apparently knocking the first aside. "Oi you!" he boomed, supposedly at Rael. "Come on son, on yer feet!"

A heavy hand closed around Rael's collar, and unable to resist he was hoisted to his feet, briefly being choked by his own shirt. His sight was less blurry now, and he was able to make out a face in front of him.

"Well ye're a tall one aren't yer?" said the man with the booming voice. "Strong too by the looks of yer. What you doing out here in the middle of nowhere, eh?"

"Is he one of ours?" piped up the first voice.

Rael was unable to fight back against the way he was being roughly handled. He sensed the men were not so hostile that he was in any danger, but his current powerlessness was frightening. Surely these men were Kairin soldiers and thought he was one too. If they realised he was Hylian he would be better dead. He searched himself for magic, but knew already that he was too exhausted to use it. "I'm... don't... you don't know..." was all he managed to utter.

"He's drunk!" said the first man with a light chuckle. "Best give him a dose of the bosses brew!" he exclaimed.

Rael knew he was certainly not drunk, but he did not like the sound of this brew. Fortunately the second man rebuked him. "He's not drunk Othell, you fool. I think he was shipwrecked."

"Shipwrecked!?" exclaimed the second voice. "Kairin!" he spat accusingly. Rael's heart leapt as he realised these men were Hylian. Yet if they thought he was a Kairin solider though that would be no better than his first fear.

"I'm not..." Rael spluttered, "I'm..."

"Quiet you Kairin worm!" shouted the man called Othell, becoming more confident.

The second man still had his hand upon Rael's collar and Rael was sure he would collapse again if the man let go of him. He willed his legs to find strength so he could stand on his own. "This man's not Kairin," the second man said, "look at his shirt."

Rael sent up a prayer of thanks to the gods, remembering the gifts of clothing his mother had given to him at their parting. The shirt he was wearing was embroidered in crimson, with a ring of emblems of the Royal Family, eagles with three triangles above their wings. A Kairin man would clearly not wear such clothing.

"Oh yes..." said Othell, apparently disappointed.

"He'd be a Hylian lord to wear this," muttered the second man. "Who are yer?" he demanded.

Rael took a few breaths, hoping to speak clearly. "I'm..." He hesitated, unsure whether it was safe to give him his real name. He decided that it was not. "Lord Resh..." he said, his dead father's name being the first that came to mind. "Hylian noble..." he added for certainty.

"What yer washed on shore for then?" his questioner continued.

"Shipwreck..." said Rael, managing to add, "battling Kairin..."

The second man laughed heartily, but most un-reassuringly. "The boss will be very pleased," he sneered. Rael felt a heavy blow on the side of his head, he hit the sand, and everything went dark.

When Rael regained consciousness he was aware immediately that he had been moved, because where there had been seashore beneath him there was now a patch of dew-soaked grass. His side ached and his head was head was throbbing from the concussing strike. However, he felt certain he could use magic now if the need arose – which it almost certainly would.

He looked up, thankful that his eyesight was clearing. To his dismay he saw instantly that he was surrounded by a ring of roughly clad men, jeering and taunting him aggressively.

He pulled himself up to his feet, and stood gazing around at his surreal surroundings, baffled at how he had managed to find himself in such a peculiar situation. His captors were Hylian men by their dress, and armed with swords and bows. A mix of young and old men, dressed in ragged and dirty clothing. Outside the circle was a small encampment, a very makeshift affair of sack-cloth tents with spears for poles. It was clear that they were not soldiers from the Hylian army, but who were they then? Bandits?

The jeering died down as a large man spoke over the other twenty or so men. He was tall, the same height as Rael, and very strongly built. He was significantly older than Rael, probably fifteen years his senior, and was scarred in many places. His dark hair was long, held back behind his head with a loop of wide cord. Rael's attention was caught immediately by what he was holding. In his right hand he grasped a black scabbard, with a black-and-gold showing at one end. Rael instinctively felt for the Father Sword on his belt. It was gone, stolen by his captor. "Lord Resh," the man said, "welcome to our camp." There were several more taunting laughs from the ring of men.

Rael tried to speak, but his mouth was completely dry. He swallowed, and did his best to raise his voice. "Who are you?" he asked.

"We're your new family," said the large man. "I'm Wulric al'Nulgon... but you can call me the Boss." He noticed Rael had spotted his stolen sword and grinned. "You're not getting this back," he said, "I can feed my men for a week with this."

"Yer," said another man, whose voice Rael recognised as belonging to the man who had knocked him out, "we need a sharp blade to cut up Taran Lidon's tough beef!"

A round of rapturous laughter ensued, quickly quieted by the Boss, Wulric. "That's enough!" he bellowed. "Resh," he said, dropping the title Rael had assumed, "we're a roaming band. We were hard working men once, fishers, farmers, smiths, carpenters... until the Kairin came and butchered our families. Now we wander the southlands hunting our Kairin foe, and plundering for coin and gold to feed ourselves. You're a lost man in the wilderness, so you'll join our band or we'll return you to the sea you came from."

Rael waited for silence to fall, looking around at the surrounding men, guessing what standard of weapons skill they had. Not that their blades could withstand his fire, but he wanted to know what he was dealing with. "My name isn't Resh," he said, "it's Rael."

There were a couple of murmurs amongst the ring of men. Wulric looked at Rael curiously for a moment, then resumed his smirk. "Are you even a noble?" he asked mockingly.

"Give me my sword," Rael commanded.

Wulric laughed. "Perhaps the boy Rael doesn't know the danger he's in," he said to his fellows.

Rael hardened his tone. "You're the one who doesn't know the danger he's in."

Wulric laughed harder, and was joined by his companions. He held out the sword, dangling it in the air. "Come and take it," he said, beckoning Rael.

Rael knew that Wulric was merely baiting him, but that was certainly not going to deter him. If he could withstand Ralis' power as long as had done, he had nothing to fear from this rabble. He could single-handedly fend off scores of foes. Rael stepped forwards. As members of the band stepped forward to tackle him he punched out at them, channelling sharp blasts of wind as he did so. His attackers were thrown off their feet and knocked back ten paces, falling hard on the ground.

At this display of strength, other attackers backed away, leaving a wide space between him and the man described as 'the Boss'. As he drew closer to the sword Wulric unsheathed the weapon and pointed its tip towards Rael warningly. "Give it to me," said Rael.

Wulric looked around at his followers, unsure what to do. Suddenly he lunged at Rael, thrusting the blade directly towards his chest. Rael reacted on instinct, throwing out his hands and channelling magic into a wide invisible shield. Wulric hit it with force, the blade sinking slowly into the incomplete barrier. As the shield hardened the blade became stuck, apparently suspended in midair. Wulric let go in surprise, unable to understand what had happened.

Rael seized the moment and leapt forwards. In a fluid motion he grabbed the hilt of his sword in his left hand and landed a powerful fist on Wulric's face. The other man staggered back, and a sharp kick in the chest was enough to send him crashing down onto his back. Rael pointed the tip of the Father Sword into Wulric's neck and warded off the other men with his right hand. "I'll kill him!" he shouted at them. He was disturbed when he realised he was not bluffing.

Rael stepped away from Wulric, brandishing his re-acquired weapon threateningly. He was ready to fight all of them if he had to. As he stood there, heart beating fast, he had a sudden dark urge to kill them all for their insolence. How dare they try to hold him hostage!

Blood and storms, what was he thinking?

When he sensed he was free to do so, Wulric stood up, backing away from Rael with an arm raised in surrender. "Who are you, my Lord?" he asked fearfully.

Rael lowered his weapon and assumed the same authority he had practised often before the Gerudo nobility. "Prince Rael," he said, "First Prince of Hyrule."

The faces of his former captors turned to disbelief. Stunned into silence, they watched him with nervous anticipation. "I tell you no lie," Rael said, "no doubt you have head of me..."

Wulric was in a state of mild shock, staring at Rael, unsure whether it was safe to believe him. "How can we believe you?"

"You can't," said Rael flatly, "but you can't restrain me, and you would do well to listen to what I have to say..."

"My Lord, we..." Wulric was apparently out of words, embarrassed and afraid.

"I was on a military mission to Taran Kaey to fight the occupying Kairin," Rael said, "but my fleet of ships has been split and destroyed." He looked around at the ragged company, and made a quick decision. "Perhaps it is good fortune I found you. I can use you. If you men want to banish the Kairin, then I will lead you on. I intend to complete my mission, and if any of you want true vengeance, then you would do well do join me."

The men before Rael shifted uncomfortably, looking around at each other uncertainly. Rael gripped the hilt of the Father Sword tightly, recognising the familiar pull of fate. He wouldn't be held back by anything. He was going to reach Taran Kaey no matter what, and if he could gather a new army around himself along the way, so much the better.