MONSTERS AT SEA

Link followed Rogir across the main deck, still reeling from his encounter with Kin. It had taken all his self-control to not call out to her.

At least she looked unhurt, Link thought. I hope she understands why I couldn't say anything.

Link's mind ran – having Kin aboard drastically changed his plans. Originally, he had intended to jump ship at the next island and barter for passage aboard the first boat headed back to Hyrule Castle. Now though...

Rogir led Link down through a separate hatch near the bow of the ship and through the crew's quarters into a small cargo chamber that had been re-commissioned to host the mercenaries Captain Teas had hired. Half a dozen hammocks had been strung around the room, but only a few of them were filled.

"Name's Petir," spoke out one of the men as soon as the chief mate disappeared. "Go ahead and take whatever nest you think'll be most comfortable; it looks as though we'll be spending quite a bit of time down here."

Each hammock was accompanied by a small trunk. Link walked over to the nearest one and stowed the few supplies he had within. He could still feel Navi clutching his hair beneath his long cap.

"You can call me Telun," Link said, turning back toward the man who had introduced himself. One glance told Link that Petir was no swordsman or archer – a rifleman perhaps? Gunmen were becoming more and more common in Hyrule, though their primitive weapons were painfully inaccurate and slow to reload. "You think the captain means to keep us out of the way?"

"Hardly," spoke a different man from the hammock next to Petir. "He's embarrassed to have us aboard. Out of sight, out of mind so they say." Glancing at the man, Link saw the tone in his arms and recognized him as a veteran swordsman. Judging by the equal muscle mass in each arm, he was likely ambidextrous, and the thick callouses on his hands meant that he probably fought with two swords.

"That's Bartell," Petir offered. "And he's right. With all ships that have gone missing or been attacked in recent months, the captain would be a fool not to hire a few of us, but he doesn't have to like it."

Link nodded. What they said made sense.

"The big guy sleeping in the corner is Trent," said Petir, gesturing to the last of the men in the cabin. "He doesn't talk much, but I've worked with him in the past. He's good with a hammer." Link glanced toward the sleeping giant. If the oversized mallet leaning against the wall next to him was his weapon, he was quite a bit stronger than he looked, and he looked half goron.

"You ever work a group job like this before, Telun?" Petir asked.

"I prefer to work alone," Link replied honestly. "But this was the only ship hiring hands out of Taura."

"Din-blighted captain's trying to get us killed," Bartell grumbled loudly.

Petir smiled apologetically. "Working a group job isn't the same as working solo. We fight as a team, working to each man's strengths, and watch each other's backs."

"And greenhorns like yourself are likely to get everyone killed," Bartell added.

Petir shrugged. "It's been known to happen."

"I know my way around a fight," Link said, annoyance in his voice.

Bartell snorted. "Maybe, but can you take orders on the fly? Can you ignore the easy target for a more strategic move? Can you aim your blade and trust your fellow swordsman to protect your back?" Bartell scoffed. "I doubt it."

Link silently considered that he might not be able to do all those things.

"Plus, we can't figure you into our combat style until we know how you fight," Petir said.

"What are your weapons, Greenhorn?" Bartell demanded.

Link seethed inwardly that he was being treated like such a novice. I need to play nice though, he told himself. It won't do Kin or me any good if I make enemies here.

"I'm a ninth tier archer and a tenth tier long-swordsman," Link replied curtly. Zelda had insisted he be tested to determine his weapon-proficiency after first arriving in Hyrule. He had thought it a stupid exercise at the time. Damn Zelda...always right in the end. "I'm also a seventh tier weaponless fighter."

Petir whistled approvingly. "So young, and already a master swordsman? Goddesses, Telun. Those are some pretty impressive numbers if you're speaking the truth."

"Even if he is truthful, it doesn't mean anything if he can't learn to fight as a group," Bartell said. "What about physical merit?"

"Eight tier," Link replied, remembering back to the strenuous strength and speed tests. "I was rated higher on speed than strength."

Petir looked at Link with newfound respect. Bartell seemed unimpressed.

"Tomorrow you'll run through some team exercises," Bartell said gruffly. "Then we'll see if you speak the truth, and if you can learn to fight with us."

Link recognized the muffled creaking from the deck above to mean the anchor was being stowed.

"Looks like we're underway," Bartell said. "I'll take first watch."

Link crawled into his hammock as the brusque man belted on his twin swords and left the cabin.

"Don't worry about Bartell," Petir offered. "He's always been a little bad-tempered."

Link didn't reply. His mind had already returned to the young bard in the brig. I could break her out, but Teas isn't the sort of man to just let us escape without giving chase. And if this ship is run in a similar manner to the Zephos, there will be a watch stationed at all hours of the night. We would have to fight our way through the whole crew, and I don't know that I could best them all.

As the ship began to sail away from Taura Island, Link closed his eyes. For now he would just have to watch, listen, and wait for an opportunity to present itself.

The next day was hot. Unbearably hot, but Bartell insisted on putting Link through hours of drilling on the main deck anyway.

"What did I just say, Greenhorn? Focus on your adversary, but pay attention to your fellow fighters! If you're standing between the enemy and Petir, how is he supposed to take his shot?" Link growled under his breath and sidestepped to free up Petir's line of sight. "Now get out of the way so Trent can finish him off! Goddesses, how many times do I have to tell you – you're only there to damage and distract. Disarm him if you can, then get the hell out of the way!"

Link hadn't felt so incompetent since he was a boy, and his frustration was only fueling his rage. It wasn't enough for Bartell to degrade every move he made – the gruff old man had to do it in front of the entire crew.

Kin would sure get a kick out of watching me squirm like this, Link thought. His mind wandering back to the hapless bard locked away below deck. He still had no idea how he was going to get her off the ship with him. I could always wait until we arrive at the western islands and the captain sells her off, but we don't have that much time! While we dawdle around here, Vaati gets closer and closer to the Princess.

"What are you doing?! If you don't cover my left flank, I'm completely open to attack! Remember, stay high and keep the enemy's attention while I take out his feet!" Bartell yelled. Link growled again. Fighting as a unit was proving to be more challenging than he had expected. "Move your feet! How am I supposed to fight with you so close?"

Link leapt aside to give Bartell the room he needed for a wide swipe, then leapt back in for a quick jab.

"Better! Now leave him for Trent! No, don't look behind you – Petir is covering your rear. Know where the players are, but focus on the game before you!"

Even though they practiced like that until mid-afternoon, Bartell never ran short of criticisms to throw Link's way. Finally, the older man decided they'd had enough. Sweating profusely, Link filled his canteen and made his way to the ship's starboard railing, letting the soft breeze cool his tired muscles.

"Bartell would never say it, but you picked up on those drills very quickly," Petir said before following the other mercenaries down to the cabin they all shared. "Just remember, we can't trust you to watch our backs if you can't trust us to watch yours."

Link grunted. How could he trust pirates?

As he leaned against the railing, he took a long swig of water, wishing it were mead. Aside from the combat drills, Bartell had also explained to Link how mercenary groups operated aboard ships like the Biri. They stayed, for the most part, separate from the crew, but with each night watch posted by the sailors, one mercenary was expected to remain topside. During the day too, the group of hired soldiers was expected to keep at least one member on deck at all times.

Link slowly made his way back to the mercenaries' shared quarters beneath the forecastle. He needed to get some sleep before his watch later that night.

The next few days followed a similar routine. Link's mornings would be spent running through endless group drills, and his nights would be spent patrolling the main deck. Even when he felt he had mastered a certain exercise, Bartell would make him repeat it a dozen more times before being satisfied. And through it all, he still hadn't discovered a way to safely spirit Kin off the ship.

"There has to be a way!" Link muttered to himself as he lay in his hammock. No matter what angle he contemplated the problem from, he saw no solution.

Link wished he could get a message to Kin, but he didn't dare risk raising the captain's suspicions. There had been several occasions when Link had seriously considered sending a note to the bard via Navi, but he couldn't be sure the bright little fairy would escape notice.

In fact, Link was amazed that Navi had remained hidden as well as she had. For almost a week now, the excitable ball of light had secluded herself in his cap with scarcely a word, even while he slept. He no longer worried that she would reveal herself while he fought, but Link knew he was fooling himself to think her silence could last too much longer. Time was running out for everyone.

Without warning, the alarm bell began to ring out from the deck above.

"Starboard crew on deck!" Rogir's seldom heard voice rang out loudly. "Mercenary crew, get yer asses up here too!"

Link had his weapons slung over his back and was through the cabin door before Rogir's voice died out. Behind him followed Petir and Bartell; Trent was already on deck.

The trio emerged into a flurry of activity.

"Get that line fastened! Unfurl the extra sheets! Helsman, fifteen degrees to port!"

Through the chaos, Link spied Trent near the starboard railing.

"What's going on?" Bartell demanded as they approached.

"Seahats," Trent said, pointing toward a dark cloud the horizon. He had a higher voice than Link had expected.

Link followed his gaze.

"That's...not...possible..." Bartell whispered.

"How many are there?" Petir asked, squinting.

Link gasped. What he had mistaken for a low-hanging storm cloud was actually –

"There're hundreds of them..."

Link tried his best to gauge the speed of the flock. "At this rate, they'll catch us within the half-hour," he said.

Bartell grunted in agreement. "Rogir, we need more speed!" he called out.

"This is all she's got!"

"Why bother? We can't outrun them," Petir asked. For the first time, he sounded uncertain.

"Seahats are territorial," Link answered. "If we can get far enough away they might abandon the chase."

"Aye, that be the truth." Captain Teas had appeared behind the mercenary group. "Though it be hard to tell whether that'll hold true with so large a flock." The captain spat over the railing. "If not, you lot will have a chance to earn yer wage."

Link tightened his swordbelt.

As the minutes dragged on and the unbelievably large flock drew closer and closer, Link's trepidation grew. No matter what the captain said, if the Seahats all attacked together, there was no way they would survive.

Before long, the air was filled with the whump whump whump of the approaching flock. They were still too far away to see clearly, but Link had encountered Seahats before.

They looked like giant, painted heads; grotesquely long mouths, filled end to end with dangerously sharp teeth, split their bodies; and out from their crowns erupted something akin to biological helicopter blades – always spinning and sharper than a sword. When agitated, groups of three or four had been known to level small islands. Link couldn't imagine the damage that could be done by several hundred of the monsters.

They'll go through the ship like a wood chipper. It wasn't a comforting thought.

Another five minutes passed, then ten. Link could feel the wind generated by the collective spinning of their bodies. Another few minutes and the Seahats would be upon them.

"It doesn't look like they're going to stop," Link muttered.

Trent just growled.

The flock was so close now, Link could lock eyes with the first of the monsters. He drew his bow.

"No wait, look!" Petir said, his voice barely audible above the noise of the flock. Link watched, amazed, as dozens of Seahats began to peel of and retreat into the north.

The crew began cheering as more and more of the deadly beasts broke chase.

"Rogir! Get everyone below deck!" Bartell yelled above the racket.

Link readied himself. Even though most of the flock had vanished, the closest Seahats – over a dozen of them – were refusing to back down.

Bartell began yelling orders as the last of the crew disappeared through the forward hatch. "Petir, Link, get onto the quarter deck and start firing off shots as soon as you can't miss! Petir, when they breach the stern, retreat back to the forecastle! Link, you cover him back to the mainmast! Trent –" Link didn't hear the rest as he and Petir sprinted to the rear of the ship.

"I guess now we'll see how good you really are with that bow," Petir said, loading his rifle.

Link ignored him. In one quick motion he drew and arrow from his quiver and nocked it. The Seahats were just over a hundred yards away, much too long a shot for the typical archer. Sighting the nearest flying head, Link took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he drew the bowstring to his cheek and released. A few seconds later, the unlucky Seahat splashed into the sea.

"Goddesses, you weren't kidding," Petir said, bringing his rifle to his shoulder. Link let two more arrows fly – and sent two more Seahats into the ocean – before Petir let off one shot. Within just a few minutes, nine of the flying beasts were dead in the water. "Here they come!" Petir shouted. There were five Seahats remaining. As the first of them crossed into the air above the stern, Link drew the Master Sword.

"Go!" he yelled at Petir, not knowing if the lanky man could hear him. The sound of the Seahat's helicopter blades was deafening. Link could feel the pressure against his ears.

The first Seahat attacked. With a burst of speed, it flew toward Link and Petir, spinning blades angled forward, looking to slice them to ribbons.

Yelling, Link parried the attack as Petir leapt onto the main deck and ran toward the forecastle. After rolling away from a second Seahat, Link followed.

Bartell gestured to Link from where he stood near the mainmast. Trent was nowhere to be found.

Skidding to a halt next to Bartell, Link adopted his familiar ready stance. Beside him, Bartell did the same.

WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP.

The pressure was almost unbearable. Link's clothes flapped wildly around him.

"Ready yourself!" Someone yelled through the din. Link thought it might have been him. The first wave of Seahats began their attack. Together, Link and Bartell parried them to the outside.

BANG. A shot rang in the air. The monster nearest Link collapsed onto the deck. Petir began reloading from his perch on the forecastle.

Another duo of Seahats engaged Link – flying toward him blades first. Out of nowhere, Trent leapt from the rigging above with an almighty roar. He landed on the first beast with a sickening crunch. The whole ship seemed to shake. Before the other Seahat could react, Trent swung his hammer into the back of its soft body. Black blood splattered across the deck.

The remaining two Seahats held back; they were more cautious than the rest.

Then, suddenly, they attacked.

Together, the two Seahats soared toward Link, Trent, and Bartell.

Link readied himself, as did the two men beside him.

BANG.

One of the beasts crashed into the deck. The other, as if expecting the shot, immediately swung left and charged toward Petir.

"Shit!" Bartell cursed as Petir barely managed to dive away from the spinning blades.

The Seahat swung around for another pass. Petir struggled to get to his feet.

Link knew there was no way for any of them to get there in time to help, and the rifleman wouldn't be able to dodge another attack.

"Trent!" Link yelled, desperate. "Throw me!"

Trent didn't hesitate. Tossing his giant hammer aside, he held out his enormous hands.

Goddesses, this man is huge, Link barely had time to think as he leapt onto a palm as big as a barstool. He crouched and pulled the Master Sword close to his body.

Trent spun once and hurled Link through the air.

His aim was true.

With a wild, mid-air swing, Link split the Seahat in two before crashing into the wooden deck.

Silence.

Link lay still where he landed, breathing heavily. The only sound was that of the hull creaking beneath him.

After the excitement generated by the Seahat encounter died down, things aboard the Biri went more or less back to normal. Bartell no longer insisted that Link be put through group combat drills, but Link soon discovered that, without the exercises to fill his morning, he had little else to do except lay in his hammock and contemplate Kin and his escape. Each idea he imagined was more outlandish and unrealistic than the last, and time was running out. It wouldn't be long before he was forced to either abandon Kin or risk fighting the whole crew.

As the most novice mercenary, Link had been assigned the graveyard watch on deck. So, for six hours every night, he would walk around the upper decks. For the most part he kept to himself, but occasionally he would come into contact with the pirate sailors who also kept the night watch.

"Goddess-damned ghoul rats got into another cask of biscuits," Link over heard one man say as he and his companion walked past. The crisp night breeze bit at Link's long, Hylian ears as he sat against the mainmast, Master Sword nestled in the crook of his arm. The moon was absent, and the night was dark. The only light was that birthed from the trio of lanterns posted along the deck and the foreign constellations that peppered the sky.

"Din's ass, that figures," the other man replied. "If only we could see the little bastards."

"Last ship I pillaged on had a cat that'd hunt the things."

"Yeah? Sounds like a load of fish guts. Did you ever see it catch one?"

"No, but then you can't see them. Cat jumped around like crazy though."

"So you got yerself a stupid cat and thought it were killing ghoul rats? Bloody fool!" The man guffawed loudly.

"Watch yer mouth! I'd bet me mother's life on it. We never did have any problems with the vermin on that ship."

The men walked too far away for Link to hear. He sighed. Soon enough, the two men came back into earshot as they circled the ship.

"You think the cap'n cares what happens to the mead?"

"Well it's his mead too, ain't it?"

"Nah, I hear he's got his own store of fancy wine and brandy in his cabin."

"I got half a mind to string him up and take the ship if that be true. Booze oughta be shared with the crew."

"Shh! Don't let no one hear you talk that foolishness!"

"Why not? I been hearing a lot of such talk in the mess. Any more of the mead starts leaking, cap'n is going to have a mutiny on his hands."

The two men walked away again, their muffled voices dying out behind the sloshing of the sea as it rolled beneath the ship.

In the darkness, Link smiled.

He had an idea.