Chapter 14
Adrenaline pumped through Link's body as the cart dangerously wove its way through the dark mines. He could hit a stray rock across the tracks any second and end up lying on the ground with no bones left unbroken. If the crash didn't kill him, Dark certainly would.
Link frantically searched the darkness behind him. There were slight blurs once in a while, but he couldn't tell if they were just rocks or something else. Tael was cringing in the back corner of the cart. Link quickly grabbed him and held the fairy up above his head, out of his line of vision, so that the light would shine farther without blinding him.
All at once, the cart swung around a tight corner and the tunnel opened into a vast cavern glowing bright orange. Link's head jerked away from the dark hole in the wall and looked around. The tracks were suspended with cables above a sea of magma, and many of the wooden ties holding the rails together either were rotten or had fallen.
Black, bubbly stalactites, arches and boulders sprouted from the hissing molten rock below, sometimes used to support the tracks, sometimes arching over them. Fire keese screeched at being disturbed and took off flying from their perches underneath arches and on the ceiling. It was almost unreal, hurtling across the rickety tracks, sometimes tipping slightly from the lack of support on one side, watching the bat-like creatures flap their flaming wings blindly after him.
Just then he noticed the second set of tracks next to him. Dark Link was racing alongside him, a simple arm's reach away. The second Link ducked his head, Dark's blade came down on the edge of his cart and hacked off a chip of wood.
Link gave a yell of surprise and then popped his head back up into the burning, stale wind as he quickly unsheathed his sword. He could see that the tracks connected up ahead and entered another tunnel. He'd have to keep his lead. Maybe he could drop things on the track behind him.
Is there anything in here? Link thought, scanning the bottom of the rickety box. A few chunks of light, air-filled black were strewn about the floor, but nothing else. Suddenly he noticed that the wood was slightly rotten and had a few holes eaten in it. Before he had time to think, he felt the cart change direction and looked up to see that the tracks were already merging. Dark was about two yards behind. His right arm was raised, holding a large fragment of light gray stone.
Link frantically reached for a rock and suddenly noticed the bottom of the cart breaking out from under him. The wall of the cavern seemed so close...but not close enough. The front of the cart splintered and fell onto the tracks, and the whole thing flipped into the air. His sword was flung off somewhere. Link flailed his arms, eyes wide, as he plummeted toward the orange blaze.
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Pyrobia, year 132
Gruth's expression changed from absolute misery to pure anger in an instant. That was the problem with Moblins...even the least violent ones could abruptly change moods without warning. It was never a good idea to catch a Moblin on his bad side.
They don't believe me, he growled to himself. "It's not my fault!" He roared, flinging off the two guards. Now the king's face jolted into a shocked and fearful expression and he pushed himself into the soft, beaten boar hide cushions covering his throne.
Gruth hesitated, looking at the Goron cowering in his chair. For a brief moment, his angry side and tender side battled inside his mind. Finally he snapped out of it, grasped the fallen spear from one of the guards, and rushed toward Dakami. As he was raising the shaft, his arms started shaking and his eyes watered. He couldn't do it. The weapon clattered to the ground and he spun around, exploding from the throne room's double doors like a torpedo, throwing aside confused Goron guards who stood in his way.
Had he said too much? The Gorons could send their whole army down into the mines and slaughter the unknowing Moblins. Then I'll warn the tribe, he decided. If the fools come, we'll be waiting.
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Link's right hand snatched a worn-out railroad tie in mid-flight and he dangled above the magma, watching the rotten planks of his cart burst into flames and disappear. Dark's cart whizzed by overhead and vanished into the tunnel, leaving Link to hang there and swing his legs. It would have been hard enough with both hands, but with only one it was near impossible. Tael zipped around his head like a bee, only making it harder to concentrate.
"Tael, get away from me! You're not helping!" Link gasped, struggling to get a better grasp on the board. He could feel it groaning under his weight. If he could swing back and forth hard enough to launch himself toward the wall, he might be able to grab the rough surface and climb up.
With one hand? Like I could even do it with both hands. It's impossible!
"Link, maybe you can swing yourself and jump to the ledge at the bottom of the wall," Tael suggested, sitting on a nearby plank after scorching himself on the rail. Link took a deep breath, braced himself, and looked down. Sure enough, when he squinted through the orange glow, he saw a ledge at the bottom of the wall, about one by four feet. This time, he didn't even sigh in disgust. His arm was screaming with joy too loudly to think straight.
Just a little longer, he promised his aching muscles, and then started rocking back and forth. Soon, he had gotten a good swing going. He swallowed, and on the next swing he let go. His feet landed with a crunch on the airy rock, and he thumped against the wall, scraping his cheek against the rough surface.
Before he could complain about the sting, a splitting crack rang through the air. He quickly stepped up onto the gouge in the wall, found a good handhold, and pulled himself up toward the tunnel. Half of the ledge crumbled into the molten rock, hissing. Luckily he had a strong foothold and was able to push himself up to the tunnel entrance.
Dark Link was nowhere to be seen. Either he was hiding or he had assumed Link had fallen. Link quietly ducked into the blackness, hoping the latter was the case, or else he was in big trouble.
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Moblin village, year 113
Gruth bounced up and down, awaiting his turn to meet the village elder. His father stood tall behind him, head almost brushing the low ceiling of the forest cave. He was ten years old this year, which meant the elder would determine his future.
"Soldier," he heard the frail old Moblin say after looking at the hand of another small Moblin.
"Dad, what do you think he'll tell me?" Gruth rattled, his heart pounding. Maybe an architect! Please say architect, he thought, trying to force his way into the elder's mind.
"I don't know, Gruth. Just be patient and we'll see," his father said quietly, patting Gruth's head.
"Farmer," came the raspy voice of the elder again, talking to the boy standing in front of Gruth. A farmer wouldn't be too bad... he thought. Anything but soldier. Finally, it was his turn. He could barely contain his excitement.
"Hands," the elder said dully.
"Huh?"
"I need your hands, please." The elder's hands were outstretched. Gruth quickly placed his hands, palms up, in the elder's. The old Moblin carefully examined them for a few moments. "Hmph."
"Is something wrong?" Gruth's dad questioned.
"Well...his future seems unsure. I need a few minutes."
Is that a good thing? Gruth wondered, starting to sweat. After what seemed like hours, the elder looked up, smiled, and opened his mouth.
"Soldier."