Chapter X: Suspicion

Oceans wheel beneath, passing like the trickle of a hundred years before roar of the seas. Days, nights, sunrises and sunsets. The season passes and a chill sets upon the flesh of her soul as she continues her voyage. On the horizon glimmers a beacon, and as her race across the face of the waters slows, the image of a mountain grows before her. Voices beckon in the distance, and the sound of the wind. It pours over her senses like an oncoming wave, and the sands of the beaches seem to glide across the empty air towards her.

The mass grows before her eyes, and soon she is greeted by a cloud of golden grains. Not grains of earth or stone, broken from the flanks of river banks or cliff-sides. These are cleft from the wind itself, with wings that stir the air that cradles her spirit. And the winds are their voices, and their voices are a song. It stirs all around her— it caresses her, enfolds her, smiles upon her. Their song is warm, and of old. In a moment they surround her, pass before her eyes and then turn back to the shores from whence they came.

Birds.

Zelda came awake with a start. She rose on her elbows, lifting her back from the bed. It was perhaps an hour until sunrise. Sleeping on the Captain's bed was proving less a challenge than she had first anticipated, but the dreams weren't helping. This was the fourth night in a row that it troubled her sleep in the small hours of the morning.

As they unfolded she perceived a window in her soul, through which she could glimpse things at a magnitude she couldn't understand. But, that wasn't all… It was more like she saw through eyes that didn't belong to her. These eyes saw things— colors, geometries, even life-forces— in ways that completely baffled her. It was like those books she used to read as a child, which when opened revealed standing castles and hills upright. Pop-up books, her teachers had called them, when they had taught her about the city and the surrounding country.

At first she was fascinated by the books, watching the illustrations come to life and stand up before her eyes. But when she turned the books this way and that, she saw the illustrations at dimensions she did not at first. She could see through walls, through hills. These dreams were like that. Looking at the world with eyes that see through hearts and places and years. Though instead of disillusionment with paper towns, she perceived new dimensions in the world around her, and the events unfolding before her.

She shook her head, and rose from her bed. A week and a half had passed since their arrival at Wolfbane's home at Outset. Her new limb had been completed a few days ago and Orca the fisherman was doing his best to help her adjust to it. She was as boisterous as ever, though her fire was visibly withered. And not much surprise there, Zelda pondered, having lost her whole world with the destruction of her ship and the livelihood it provided— a black thing, though, it was.

Time would soon approach that they would be able to leave, but Zelda still did not understand where it was they were to go, or even why. Zelda sighed as she sat on the foot of her bed, careful to tread lightly lest she awaken Marcus or Impa. Why indeed, she thought. Her talk-turned-argument with the pirate-hating-pirate Graybeard had provoked her own thought as to just what Link was really afraid of. When did he begin to suspect Gannondorf as something more than a usurper?

Her thoughts drifted to those days, the days of their quest together. They had been so consumed with the impending conflict with the necromancer. And it was no wonder, she admitted. The people were harassed by the living dead roaming the plains outside the city gate. Great trees were rent up from the earth, mountains exploded into fiery chasms, great beasts of earth and sea wreaked havoc, and the denizens of the necromancer stirred the evil spirits of ancient terrors all across the continent. The plunge began its steepest descent when her father was lost to the invasion of the city. A false ambassador— an alleged diplomat coming on the behalf of a foreign land to offer aid at Hyrule's greatest time of vulnerability— lowered the gates secretly one night, allowing the sorcerer's forces through. Her father led the guard in driving them from the city, though at the cost of his own life. He was a warrior, and would be one even unto his end.

Everything they had feared seemed to be unfolding before them. The armies were nearly broken by the constant and nightly conflict with the redead. Crops were failing. Rivers were parched. The sun itself seemed to dim and seldom stretched out its beams from behind a veil of clouds grayer than nothingness. Her people were starved for both food and courage. Hope seemed a flake of snow on the wind. She and Link did their best to foil the sorcerer's efforts to bring the city to its knees, but his toil was not without effect.

Hyrule was in a frenzy, and when Gannondorf finally chose to confront it personally it seemed to her that he just might break it. Link had been able to complete the awakening of the Master Sword, and somehow the sorcerer must have sensed that their conflict was finally at its head. He stood before the gates, the living dead at his back. He made no threats, didn't even attempt to break into the city proper (the redead would not have been able to jump across the mote even if he had broken open the gates). He just… stood out there, on the perimeter of the outer village, hurling purple-black balls of Blackfire over the walls and into the outer village. In hindsight, his intentions were very clear— he wanted their attention. Gannondorf was challenging the city's avengers, calling them out to fight. And as the villagers panicked and fled, and the perimeter guard sounded the alarm, he got it.

And suddenly something clicked into place. It was no army that he brought to lay waste to the city. In fact, it could only have been thirty or forty redead behind Gannondorf. And Link only took twenty or so of the guard— those were all that would go to face the great evil one with him. The redead were slain very quickly… in fact, there had been no casualties. The soldiers took cover behind the gates when the battle between Link and Gannondorf had begun in earnest. She felt a shiver crawl up her spine. She had known his powers were dark and terrible, but to witness a man take on the likeness of a gargantuan boar… truly, he seemed to her fully a demon.

But fall he did. As his powers seemed at last exhausted and he shed his demonic transformation, he knelt before Link. Zelda had watched from the walls, saw the whole battle unfold. It seemed to her that Gannondorf stared Link directly in the eyes. He was unable to stand, and he made no effort to do Link harm. For a few moments, Link seemed to watch the defeated sorcerer, before finally hefting the Master Sword and plunging it into the usurper's torso.

At the time she had been weakened, frightened, and hungry for the end of conflict. But as she looked back on it now… He died… willingly?

Zelda's thoughts were interrupted as Impa touched her shoulder. She nearly jumped at the sensation, and turned to find Impa fully dressed and ready for the day. She had been completely lost to reverie.

"Good morning, highness," Impa said with a smile.

Zelda felt the tension in her own heart soften a little. "Good morning, Impa," she said, venturing her own smile.

"More dreams?"

Zelda nodded.

Impa nodded herself. Then, after a brief pause, "Have you considered sharing them with Captain Graybeard?"

Zelda felt resentment twist in her heart, and did her best to fight it down. "No. And I don't think it would be very helpful."

"He seems to know more than we think he does."

"Well then I wish he would ruddy well come out and say it," Zelda snapped.
Impa seemed to stifle a laugh, and Zelda raised an unamused eyebrow.

Impa shrugged, and half-heartedly concealed a grin. "'Ruddy well'. Link used to say that."

Zelda nodded, with a sigh.

"He rubbed off on you," Impa said, resting a hand on the young woman's shoulder.

At that, more of the tension in Zelda seemed to give way and Zelda felt unbidden tears come to her eyes. Impa's smile widened, and she nodded knowingly. Zelda hurriedly wiped them away. No, tears would not help her right now. Zelda stood, and began to make for the door. "I'm going to go to the island. See how the pirate girl fares."

Impa nodded as Zelda went.

Aryll huffed as she limped forward. Pain seared up her left side, from her leg all the way up into her back. She gripped the crutch under her right side tightly as she practiced walking on the shore. The chu jelly had gone very far in healing the wound she suffered in… in the carnage. But the sinews and fibers of her leg would require more healing than even the jelly could provide. She was no cleric, but she knew well what such wounds did to the body, had seen them enough times. Most men didn't have the benefit of the jelly, and died. Those that lived were rendered permanently crippled… And despite the tales told in pubs, wooden legs were not usually helpful.

With each step, she fought a grimace that she knew smothered her features regardless of her efforts. The old fisherman, Orca, stood several yards away, watching her trudge along. At first she had been offended by the idea, but as she tried to walk the fisherman's coaching inspired humility in her rather than irritation. The joint would flex as she pressed into the step, though in a way that was certainly unnatural. It forced her to adjust her gait, and each step met with hesitation and uncertainty.

"Would ye stop thinkin' o'er each step an' jus' walk?" said Orca.

"I can't help it," the young lady replied, glaring at the old man.

"It ain't a shark, lass, its yer leg."

"Well forgive me if I ain't used to it yet!" she bellowed. As she turned to yell at the man, her crutch fell from under her arm and she toppled down with it. Before she knew it she was eating sand and the old man was there turning her over and sitting her up. She didn't fight his help, she didn't have the strength. Walking required more of her at the time than she cared to admit.

"Yer a stubborn girl, jus' like that granny o' yers."

"Shut it," she retorted.

Orca heaved a sigh. After a moment, "Ye need to trust that leg o' yers. It ain't the one ye had, but now its the only one ye got. If yer scared to walk on it, ye won't walk at all."

Their conversation was interrupted as the small rowing boat from the Anathema beached nearby. Gonzo forced his way past the emerging row-men and even that priss. Aryll was always thankful for his loyalty, even if it was a little eccentric. And she was so especially now, since that fair-haired dandy-woman nearly fell face first in the ocean as he shouldered past.

He rushed forward, almost cleaving the old fisherman away from her. Orca stumbled away, taken by surprise. "Captain!" the man fervently cried, "are ye alright?"

"Yes, Gonzo," she said, pushing is face away from hers. He tended to have a lowered sense of proximity when it came to her safety, something that often brought swift jabs to the ribs for the well-meaning pirate. "Jus' help me up, will ye?"

The much older pirate gingerly helped his barely adult mistress rise from the sand, placing the crutch beneath her. As they had been talking, the princess had made her way over to them. She studied Aryll with something the girl took for pity.

"What?" Aryll barked at the woman after a few moments of silence.

The princess sighed. "I came to talk with you."

"Then talk." Irritation began to present itself in the woman's demeanor. Good.

"I came here from Hyrule, a country far—

"I know where Hyrule is, wench, ye don't have to lecture me," Aryll snapped. The princess's eyes closed for a moment, and her breathing began to take a forced rhythm. Aryll had no love for the woman in her heart, but her saltiness with her was mostly due to her own frustration. She knew it in the back of her mind, but allowed herself to feel it anyway.

The woman's breathing became relaxed again. "Can we please go inside? I need to speak with you about something that someone believed affected you deeply, and had implications that would affect my country, perhaps more."

Aryll huffed, resigned to surrender her frustration for the moment. "Fine."

Aryll sat across from Zelda at the table in her Granny's house. Gonzo stood behind her at the fireplace while Granny fidgeted over the stove with whatever it was she was cooking now. Before her the princess laid out the leather-bound book Graybeard had confiscated from her, as well as several maps. They appeared to be maps of both Hyrule and then the globe. Once Zelda finished leafing through the journal, she took a deep breath and then began speaking.

"You say you are familiar with Hyrule?"

Aryll fought the urge to roll her eyes at the woman. "Aye, I know of it. Never seen it, meself, but I traded with merchants who tell of it off'n enough."

Zelda nodded. "Then maybe you've heard a little of the peril my country has faced in the past ten years."

"Aye," the pirate girl answered, "I heard o' yer sorcerer and 'is war on yer lands."

Zelda nodded again. "Well," she said, "we defeated him."

Aryll shrugged. "Good. What's it got to do with me?"

"We were able to defeat him, rather…" she took a moment to find the words. "…He was defeated by our strongest ally and friend, but at great cost. Mortal cost. Legend spoke of this man as the Hero of Time— the one who would take up a forgotten relic in my country's greatest hour of need to defeat a great evil."

"Ok," Aryll nodded, disinterested.

"Before he died, he warned me that Gannondorf's actions were not what they appeared to be. He gave me this journal, detailing his research during the decade we fought the enemy, and directed me to a place where he began to explore just what the sorcerer was doing."

"Whats that?" Aryll supplied sarcastically.

Zelda did not appear to notice, now. She was focused on her dialogue. "I'm really not sure. We spent a decade together, travelling across the continent, trekking the deepest forests, forging the volcanic peaks, even exploring the innards of a living whale—

Aryll raised an eyebrow.

"Don't ask," the princess said with a shudder.

"Wasn't gonna," Aryll said, palms raised in surrender.

"Gannondorf had put a terrible magic on my land… darkness clung to the sky so tightly that there were only a handful of good hours of sunlight each day. The haze not only affected the light but the rain, and that was destroying our crops. Worse, strange creatures rose from the dirt of the plains every night and assaulted anyone about. Trade came near to a halt, and my people began to starve."

"What did he want?" Aryll asked.

"The throne. He wanted the throne. And he did everything in his power to get it. He awakened creatures that slept in the deep places of the world, things that were never meant to be stirred… They wreaked havoc across my country. The seas became violent, the mountains angry with fire. The forests withered and wailed, and deserts howled."

Aryll sat, watching the woman. Her speech was growing in urgency, and it was becoming clear to the young lady that this woman was speaking of real events, events that had burdened her deeply for years.

Zelda went on. "We spent ten years exploring caverns, ruins, dead volcanoes, places no human foot had touched for centuries. We had to find the Master Sword. It was so unclear where it was, but each location provided more clues. But we weren't alone. Other things lived there. We don't think he created them… At least not the biggest ones."

"I'm sorry," Aryll interrupted. "But what does any of this have to do with me?"

Zelda nodded, sighing. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. Please understand, I think we saw things that no person has ever seen. When we were finally able to find and reawaken the Master Sword, and put the battle behind us… to have it end that way…" Zelda seemed to be losing an internal dialogue. But she pressed on. "Before he died, he said that there was more. He said that the journal would help me understand. And he said to find you."

Aryll nodded, finally understanding. "This Hero of Time?" she asked, gesturing with her hand.
Zelda nodded. "How did 'e know me?"

"He was from Outset. He gave me your surname, Wolfbane, said you were the key. I don't know why."

Aryll brushed her nose with her left hand. "So, what then? What am I supposed to do?"

Zelda shrugged, shaking her head, "I don't know, I don't know. Maybe he thought you would know something about these notes."

"What would I know about some stranger's musin's in a diary?"

"Will you just look?" Zelda retorted emphatically.

Aryll sighed, frustration rising in her again. "Fine."

Zelda pointed to a place on the pages. "Here. He mentions altars of black stone. He didn't write much about them, but he did give them names: Blackwell, Graypeak, and Bonegarden. When I discussed it with Graybeard, he mentioned reading of something that might be related in scrolls belonging to the Sages Doctrine— do you know what this is?"

Aryll nodded.

"Alright. Graybeard speculated that these places were old. Very old. Older than…"

"Older than what?" Aryll implored, impatient.

"Older than most things," Zelda supplied, her own frustration mounting.

"An' why would I know anything about that?"

"Ye wouldn't," a crackling voice said behind them.

Both ladies turned to find Graybeard standing in the threshold. Aryll closed her eyes. Graybeard was not the person she was in the mood to see. He interrupted her thoughts, apparently speaking to Granny, "The stew ready yet, woman?"

"Ye'll speak kindly to an ol' woman, you cur," the old woman retorted. "Git in here and sit down, then. Been waitin' on yer mangy flank long enough to serve this."

Graybeard shut the door then crossed the small open space to take the last seat at the table. In a few moments three bowls were before them, filled with stew, and despite the present concerns everyone found themselves digging in.

Between mouthfuls, Graybeard addressed Zelda. "Been thinkin' on those altars in that book."

Zelda's eyes turned from her stew as she chewed her mouthful. When she had swallowed it, "What about them?"

"If they be older than the histories o' yer people, ye ain't goin' to find much help out here."

Aryll nodded in a matter-of-fact way as she shoveled another mouthful in. Zelda sighed, rubbing her temples. "How is that helpful?"

"Well," Graybeard said, sitting back in his seat and gesturing with his spoon, "the folk o' Outset ain't much for record keepin'. It ain't really clear how long we been here. And nobody cares much."

Zelda sat, staring daggers into the man.

Graybeard raised his palms in surrender. "I was jus' thinkin'… if nobody here knows about somethin' that old… and nobody over there knows," he gestured to Hyrule on the map near his bowl, "then we are gonna have to find someone older."

Zelda shook her head. "What?"

"The Rito tribe." All eyes turned to the stove, where Granny now stood giving their discussion her fullest attention. "Yer talkin' about the Rito tribe. And yer thinkin' o' takin' my little girl to meet those inbred bird folk an' their fiery monster."

Graybeard started, "They may know about the—

"Oh, no," the woman interrupted, pointing her stirring spoon at the old pirate. She marched over to confront him, ire plain in her demeanor. "Ye'll not take my little girl to meet those crazed half-people. They'll only cook you up an' throw you to their god."

"She ain't even yer daughter," the man replied, incredulous.

"She's my granddaughter, you lousy mutt, an' I'll not see you rob me o' another gran'child. Ye may not o' been aroun' to get the firs' one inta trouble, but ye don' need to start with this one." Graybeard went silent at that, and seemed to withdraw.

"Who are the Rito?" Zelda asked.

Graybeard turned from the old woman. "A folk said to have descended from birds. They got a god that some say be older than the world itself. I figured, somethin' that old must have some answers." The old woman began to protest, but Graybeard stood and turned, overpowering her speech, "An' they say they got medicines there that border on magic. Maybe git the girl more help, git her walkin' better at least." Graybeard sat down and went back to his stew.

The old woman returned to her stew-pot, stirring it and grumbling less than conspicuously about her distaste for the plan. Zelda shook her head. "I don't know. How can we be sure these people can help?"

"We can't," the old pirate said gruffly. "We can only go an ask. Its what the boy would do, id'n it?"

Zelda felt her frustration subside. He was right. It's exactly what Link would do. Link developed an appreciation for books eventually, though it was largely secondary to maps. His studies were rigorous, but it always led to him going off to find the truth in person. It's how he got as far as he did… And it had to count for something.

"What boy?" Aryll interrupted. "This Hero o' yers?"

Graybeard seemed to withdraw again, hunched down and nearly had his nose in his stew. Zelda didn't notice, but nodded in reply to Aryll. "Yes. His name was Link."

Aryll's spoon clunked against the table. Her eyes fastened to those of the princess, and her teeth began to clench. She had to control her breathing, which seemed nearly to escalate despite her control. "What name did you say?"

Zelda seemed taken aback. "Link…"

Aryll let the name hang in the air for only a moment before her knife was out from her right boot and in her hand. She practically flew across the table at Zelda, knocking the woman from her chair and scattering most of the contents of the table across the house. She pressed her knife vehemently against the princess's throat, just enough to make her squirm. Her features contorted, and her eyes seemed to beg explanation.

"My brother. Did you kill him? Did you kill my brother?" Each word was enunciated perfectly, and the rage she felt spilled out with each word.

"What are ye doin', girl?" Graybeard said. When the young lady had flung herself across the table, the older pirate had been surprised and backed away from the table. Now he approached Aryll slowly, palms raised in a supplicating manner.

Aryll snarled as she spoke. "Y'heard the wench, old man! She stole 'im and made 'im fight that devil and 'e died!" The cadence of her voice was hurried, and her tone was guttural, climbing in pitch. Her breathing began to increase in pace, and she could feel the control of her senses slowly giving way to the rage.

Before she could truly give in to it, she felt strong arms beneath hers tear her from on top of the princess. They laced beneath her arms and then up and around her head, interlocking at the back. She writhed with all of her might but could not get free.

"Let me go, old man!"

"This is bigger 'n you, lass!"

"He's gone because of her, its her fault!" she screamed, struggling with all of her might against his hold on her.

"Stop this, now!" he growled, effort straining his voice.

"She deserves to die!" she spat. Growls and snarls raked across her throat, and she could feel hot tears stream down her face. She fought as hard as she could, but soon the rush of energy unleashed by her rage expired and her ability to fight dissipated. She could feel her muscles slacken, and then the arms that constrained her were gone and she wept in a slump on the floor.

Granny had backed away from the struggle. Gonzo stood near the fire place, shocked to paralysis. The princess, still gripped by shock of her own, sat stock still against the wall a few feet away. Graybeard, panting from the exertion, stood hunched over with his hands on his knees. After a few moments he lifted his head, "Ye don't understand what's at stake here, girl."

"I don't care!" Aryll roared.

"I care, ye ungrateful wretch!" he bellowed in response. "Yer brother gave 'is life for this, 'n there's none but you to finish 'is work."

"I ain't goin' anywhere with 'er," Aryll snarled. "Or you."

"Beggin' yer pardon, girlie," Graybeard said snidely, "but ye are. Ye forfeited yer life when ye joined m'crew. I own you." Aryll began to protest further, but Graybeard cut her off, "An' while yer rage may give ye no regard fer yer own life, I can guarantee ye'll watch me cut the throats o' those dogs o' yers 'afore I cut yer own."

The room went silent. Zelda's shock was only beginning to pass, and Granny had stood while the two were arguing, and now stood at the window, silent tears of her own streaming down her face. Gonzo was still a statue at the fire place, but his stillness was interrupted with a jolt as Graybeard got his attention.

"Gonzo!"

"A-aye!" the fearful man replied.

"Pick up the girl and bring 'er aboard me ship. We leave at dawn fer Dragonroost Island."

At the man's hesitation, Graybeard roared, "Now!" Gonzo snapped to movement, picking up the exhausted girl and following the older man out the door.

"His sister?" Impa exclaimed, incredulous.

Zelda nodded dimly. She sat on the bed in the captain's quarters aboard the Anathema, Impa standing before her.

Marcus paced to and fro along the floor near the door. "How can that be possible?" he mused, stroking his chin.

Zelda shrugged. "I… I don't know."

Impa shook her head. "Well, do you think its true?"

Zelda's hand rose instinctively to her neck as she answered, "Well, I think she thinks it is. She was really going to kill me…"

Impa sat next to Zelda, resting a comforting hand on her back. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Zelda nodded. "After everything I've been through… I'll be fine."

Marcus ceased his pacing and stood before the two women. "So what now? We just sail for this Dragonroost Island and hope they have answers?"

Zelda sighed, shrugging. "I guess."

Impa clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "That Graybeard is too confident in his notions."

"Yeah, what makes him so sure?" Marcus added.

Zelda felt a headache forming. His behavior, the way he seemed to... defend Zelda's quest. It was becoming clear that the old captain was invested in her journey, though for what reason she did not know. What cause did he have to force the pirate girl to go with them? Further yet, why was he still involving himself in their quest? Little more than a month ago he had been nothing more than a merchant, whose vessel had been commandeered for the royal purpose. Now?

Zelda nodded. "I'm beginning to agree with you, Impa."

"Pardon, highness?"

Zelda turned to face Impa. "Captain Graybeard knows more than he has revealed."