Okay, something important enough I'll post it here to make sure everyone sees. My updates are slowing again, and I can't simply blame work or school for it this time, because it's mainly my fault. For the last two years, this story has been pretty much all I've been writing, and it's getting to where I turn on the computer to start of the word processor, and when I see the Sims 2 icon on my desktop, I go "Hey, that sounds like a better idea."
Simply put, I've burnt myself out on this story. I dearly want to finish it, but like I said above, I've been writing it for about two years now, and when I'm not writing it, I'm thinking about it and looking through my notes for it. I plan to finish up book 2, since it has a relatively small number of chapters left, then I'm officially going to put this story on hold and write some other things. Exactly what I mean by "book 2" and "other things" will have descriptions put up in my profile as of this update.
Nobody panic, I will be coming back to this story, as I dearly want to finish it, but it's just going to have to go on hold while I get some other ideas and genres out of my system. I'll also be removing this message when I upload the next chapter, so I don't screw up the word-count any more than I have already. Anyway, check my profile for more information.
Chapter 50: Reunions, Both Friendly and Unwanted
The sun was sinking behind the mountains on the western horizon. Silviana hadn't moved from her perch at the top of the church steeple, and was actually surprised, as she watched the search parties hunting for her moving through the street. Not a one of them looked up to see her, and she wasn't even trying that hard to hide. Trained soldiers they may be, but it was clear that the lack of conflict in these lands for the past centuries had provided that not a one of them, even the officers, had real battle experience.
The city was a strong defensive position, but against the foes they would soon be facing, they wouldn't have a chance against the armies, let alone the magicians. The attack that morning hadn't even turned into a real battle. Link had held off the dragon long enough for the wizard to arrive, and he killed the enemy sorcererand turned back their army single-handedly.
It seemed as though there wasn't really a point to the soldiers, to tell the truth, so easily beaten by the mighty magicians they were. But Silviana could see the logic behind it: When two such magicians met in battle, they would be so occupied with each other that the common soldiers would go practically unheeded. The magicians would become each army's rock, and one of them falling would mean the death of their followers.
But she wasn't generalizing enough, she realized. It wasn't just magicians, but the greatest fighters as well. A wizard taking an arrow in the throat would go down as fast as anyone else. And a single, battle-experienced swordsman could defeat dozens of amateurs with relative ease, they just needed a more hands-on approach than a wizard.
She had come here because she didn't enjoy the thought of being safe in her forest while the world fell apart around her. The theory Zelda had come up with, that their enemy was from a parallel world, was frightening. It would mean they had an entire world of resources to draw upon. But there wasn't going to be any help coming to save the people of this world. There were countries across the sea, where Link and the others had come from, but they were too far to send word in time, let alone for their help to get back, if they were inclined to send it.
And if all the kingdoms of Mystara fell, they would be next.
That was why she had come here. Silviana felt no pity for the countries themselves, but for the people living within them, who had no knowledge of the coming catastrophe. And for those who would ignore it, thinking themselves safe.
And the strange thing was, she didn't know why she felt that way. She knew well about the brand on her right shoulder, that marked her as a slave. She didn't remember getting it, her earliest memories as a child being those revolving around the man she had known only as her master.
She couldn't say it had been entirely terrible, as most of what was expected of her was cleaning and dusting his home, putting away the books and feeding his dog. She couldn't have been more than twenty years old then, in comparison to human age, she would have looked about eight.
He had been a wizard, though. Nothing compared to what they were seeing now, but he'd apparently been conducting some form of experiments to recreate a difficult or lost form of magic that would extend his life. He was already well on in years, and as time went on, his moods grew less and less predictable, and he would fly into rages at the slightest things, and would lash out at the first thing he saw.
She remembered still the bruises and aches she would feel after some such rages.
It went too far though when he abducted a woman and attempted to siphon the life directly out of her to extend his own. It hadn't worked, and it had cost the woman's life, starting an investigation. Silviana had known nothing of it until the day a judge and thirty armed men had forced their way into his home. He had put up a fight, and the judge executed him on the spot.
Silviana still remembered that judge. A handsome elf with golden hair, deep voice, and deep green eyes. He had found her, and was genuinely shocked, though she hadn't known why at the time. She found out later that it had been because she was a member of what was supposed to be an extinct race.
She remembered the discussions she had overheard about herself, and what should be done with her. The common agreement, from all but that young judge, was to put her in an orphanage and forget about her. He argued that slavers would pick her up again eventually, and she'd wind up in exactly the same place again, aside from the obvious, that she would be mistreated or neglected because of her skin color.
She didn't know how those arguments had finally ended, but the judge had come and explained to her that society was not yet ready to accept one such as herself, and if she wanted, he knew one place where she could be safe.
He had taught her the use of the bow, how to live off the land, and finally, taken her out into the forest where he told her that she would be the ranger that would protect the forest from civilization, and protect travelers from the forest. But she would serve no man or woman, only herself. He promised that when society would accept her as it did others, he would return to tell her.
Weeks rolled into months, months into years, and years into centuries. She had grown to adulthood in that forest, mastering the skills she had been taught, and teaching herself new ones, including the art of camouflage to the point someone would have to trip over her before they would be able to find her lying in the tall grass or bushes.
She's lost track of time centuries before, and truly did not know how many years she had spent alone in that forest.
The young judge who had taken her to the forest had grown old, and had a daughter of his own now. He was still handsome, and the beard helped hide many of the lines on his tired face, but he showed no indication of recognizing her. He may have forgotten entirely.
Well, anyway, she was getting hungry. She decided it was time to get back to the others, who had moved further through the city by now, but she should be able to catch up. She rose to her feet on the ledge around the steeple and moved to climb down, but stopped short as she caught distant movement.
On the far city wall, a dark figure had leaped over the top of the wall, moved past a soldier walking the opposite direction, then jumped over the inner side of the wall to the street below. Watching the spot, a second did the same. Then a third. Then the soldier, just reaching the end of his beat, turned around and began to walk the other way. He'd completely missed them.
"They're good," Silviana said to herself.
It had been sheer dumb luck that she had seen them, and while she doubted three ninja were going to take the city alone, maybe it would be a good idea to find them and see what they were up to. She was still wearing her gray outfit she'd been wearing the night the judge had caught them, so she blended in a little with the buildings of the city, and soon it would be dark and she could stick to the shadows.
The ninja were wearing black, as usual. Until the sun went down, they'd have to stay carefully hidden or they'd stick out like a hand with three sore thumbs.
She started down the side of the steeple, the same way she had come up, knowing she had to move quickly before she lost them. People don't leave footprints on stone streets.
Mur'neth ducked into an alley and quickly moved to a side-door on the nearest building. He tried it, finding it locked. The other two ninja moved nearby, taking positions across the alley, ducking low in the shadow of the building. Mur'neth took the set of lock-picks from his belt and inserted them into the keyhole of the door. It wasn't a complex lock, only two tumblers. He worked quickly, easing them into place with audible clicks, then opening the door just enough to look in through the crack between it and the wall.
Seeing no one, he pushed it open further and took one step in, looking around the other side of the door. He saw no one, so motioned the others, then moved inside, the other two following him. The third in shut the door and turned the lock back into place.
They'd entered what looked like a storeroom. It was fairly dark, but Mur'neth could make out sacks of flour in a corner, and barrels, probably filled with dried fruit, stacked to the side.
"Master, it is still several hours until dark," one of the ninja reminded him.
"We'll wait here until then," Mur'neth said, "Find someplace to hide in case someone comes in."
Ganon was somewhere in this city, and he wasn't leaving until he found him.
"I'm curious," Zelda said, turning to Ralthas as they walked, "How does a city this size support itself?"
"There is actually a great amount of open space within the walls that is used as farmland," he said, "and more supplies are imported from the border villages and their farmlands. There's also an underground river beneath the city that several wells tap into, so we're never short of water."
Sheila glanced back at Link, who was walking a short distance behind the rest of them, with two soldiers marching behind him. He kept glancing from side to side at the large numbers of people moving through the street, a dark frown on his face. "You okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine," he said, "I just don't like being in crowds. For some reason, it makes it hard to breathe."
Sheila slowed until she was next to him. "So, it seems like there is some weakness to you after all. That sounds like some kind of phobia, though I'm not sure of its name."
"I'm not afraid of it," Link said, "I just don't like it."
"It's kind of cute, actually."
Link glanced at her, she saw a small smile creep onto his face. "I'm not cute," he said, "Ruggedly handsome, sure. But not cute."
"Would it make you feel better if I held your hand?"
Link chuckled. "If you're brave enough."
"If I'm…?" Sheila noticed Midna for the first time, on Link's other side, who was giving her a dark glare. "Oh. Nevermind then."
The sound of hooves on the stone street up ahead caused her to look up in time to see two horses being pulled to a stop ahead of them. She immediately recognized one of the riders. "Richard!" she called out, waving at him.
The prince jumped down from his saddle and moved toward them, the other rider dismounting and following behind him.
"Judge," Richard said, giving Ralthas a quick nod as he walked past toward Sheila and Link.
"There's someone I wasn't expecting to see so soon," Link said.
Richard nodded to him. "I'm glad to see you all made in one piece. Seems my warning didn't do much for you, though," he added, glancing over his shoulder at Ralthas.
The prince was dressed much more regally since they had last seen him, Link noticed, in a dark blue tunic with gold lacing and padded shoulders, matching pants, and the sword at his hip's grip was made of gold with green gems inlaid in the design. That was a show weapon, not a fighting weapon.
"Well, we did make it," Sheila said, "And just in time for an attack."
"Yes," Richard said, then turned his head to face Link, "I heard about the dragon and what you did. You're a very brave man. Or totally insane. I'm not sure which yet."
Link smiled. "The difference between those is measured only by success."
"In any case, prince," Ralthas said, "Why did you come to meet us?"
"I came ahead," Richard said, "There are more men coming bringing horses for the lot of you. Father wants you all at the castle by morning, if possible."
"What's the rush?' Link asked.
"We're officially at war," Richard said, "Father knows that Ralthas will bully through to a trial for the lot of you, and he wants to get it out of the way as soon as possible so that his attention can be devoted elsewhere. He wants to hold it tomorrow morning."
"That's ridiculous," Sheila said, "The standard procedure calls for at least a week for the prosecution and defense to plan their arguments."
"Standard procedure has been overruled," Ralthas said, moving beside the prince, "as it may be. Tomorrow will be fine. You can talk to them as we go, prince, and prepare your case."
Richard turned to him. "What? You seriously want me…?"
"You thought I was joking when I said that if you wanted to help them, you'd best be ready to defend them?" Ralthas said, "On such short notice, it's either going to be that, or I'll have to appoint someone to defend them, and that will cause arguments among the common people that I rigged the trial."
"And you're going to be acting judge?" Link asked.
"No," Ralthas said, "Though I normally oversee trials, the other judges may as well, but when a judge makes an arrest, we are not permitted to act as the 'judge' of the trial, for obvious reasons. I'm going to be the acting prosecution."
"This is the first I've heard of this!" Richard said.
"On such short notice, there is no time for me to brief another on the details," Ralthas said.
"You intend to prosecute your own daughter?" Richard demanded.
"I'm afraid that my duty comes first," Ralthas said, "That was the oath I took when I became a judge. Nothing is more important to me than the law. Nothing."
"Son of a…" Link hissed through his teeth, taking a step toward the judge.
In an instant, he saw what was going to happen. He'd hoped the fact Ralthas had trusted them to keep the weapons had shown something, but if he was going to be the one they were up against in the court, it was basically going to be his word against theirs, and it was obvious the people of this country would believe him first on every occasion.
Before he could do anything, he felt a hand grab his arm, and he turned to see Zelda holding onto him. She shook her head. "Damn," he muttered, but took back the step from the judge. His temper had suddenly tried to get the better of him. He might have only knocked the judge out, maybe knocked out a few teeth, but then there was the question of what next? They were too far from any of the city walls to escape, and there was nowhere to run to. And the fact he knew they were going to have to fight Khall and his allies sometime, and since Ganondorf was a lost cause, they needed this country's military in order to have a chance.
"It's okay, Link," Zelda said.
"Look, no offense," Link said, "But how much experience, exactly, does the prince have at this sort of thing. Maybe it would be better…"
"Calm down," Zelda said, "It's okay. I have a plan. A court system like this is a lot like politics, one thing that I actually am far more experienced with than you. So stay calm, and let me handle this. I know it's not your thing to sit back and let others handle things, but it would be much better for us right now if you would do so."
She turned to Ralthas. "The prince will serve fine as our defense."
"Zelda."
She turned to the voice. It was the second rider that had arrived with the prince. "Arthur," she said.
The young man was smiling, though it was a sad smile.
"You know each other?" Richard asked.
"We met," Arthur said, "Briefly."
The brief encounter that had made him vow to turn his life around, only to have everything he'd ever know ripped from him shortly later.
"I'm glad to see you made it out of Whitos-Neiki," Zelda said.
"There were a few others," Arthur said, "No one I knew, though. My family is all gone."
"I'm sorry," Zelda said.
Ralthas suddenly stepped between them. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to speak to this man any more at this time."
Arthur moved forward. "What do you…?"
"This man is a witness to part of the events related to this trial," Ralthas said, "You may talk all you want after its completion tomorrow."
"So be it," Zelda said.
Link shook his head. He was feeling the stress already. He really didn't like having to wait and hope someone else would solve a problem. And he was pretty sure it was bad for his heart.
The sun had set. Kilishandra called a halt to the day's march, and stood on a small rise, watching her men spread out to set up camp. There was a flash in the clouds some distance away, then a few seconds later she heard the faint thunder.
The air was cool, and Kilishandra shivered slightly. The fit of her armor didn't allow for much padding between her flesh and the metal, and the cool metal made the breeze seem twice as cold.
She didn't know what happened to the woman and girl she saw in Nigel, but there hadn't been time to stay around if they were to beat the winter snows to Darimar. The narrow paths in some locations would slow them further, having to funnel the men through.
"My lady."
She turned to the voice. It was her aid, Jorl. Jorl was an old, scarred soldier, and one of the very few she trusted to speak with about her most personal thoughts. He'd been around since her first battle, when the barbarian horde had attacked Ganon's domain, and stood by her even now.
They had both been little more than children back then, herself scarcely seventy, and him in his late teens. It was somewhat saddening to look at him now, in his sixties, his hair grayed, his face tired, and his armor dull and chipped. But his eyes were just as sharp as ever, showing vast pools of experience and intelligence.
He was an example of what Kilishandra would have called the perfect soldier. He wasn't a magician, and didn't use magical weapons, yet was a devastating force on the battlefield. Too many so-called "heroes" had led their forces against theirs, yet their greatest power was the magical weapon they wielded that allowed them to cut down inexperienced or unskilled men like wheat, but when they met someone who truly was a skilled swordsman, like Jorl, they had great difficulty even though he was not armed with an enchantedweapon.
"Your tent is ready my lady," he said, "Water is being heated for your bath, should you desire it."
It would certainly be nice to warm up in a soak. "I think I shall," she said, "I'll go back there in a few minutes."
"As you wish, my lady," Jorl said, and turned to walk back toward the camp.
He never asked questions, and simply did as he was told. But, when he saw something she did not, if she were about to make a terrible mistake, he would point it out and redirect her. She was sure he'd noticed the blue nail on her hand, and had gone to do research as to what it was, but he'd never said anything about it.
She started back toward the camp, to where her tent was. It was very sad, really. There were times she'd entertained the notion that he loved her, and it was possible he did, but never said anything. She was very fond of him herself, but not in the way she thought could be called love. To be honest, she had been afraid to act for the very reason she had seen again just now. He was growing old while she was still in her youth. It would be torturous to grow old while watching your lover seem to never age, right? She was certain the reverse was true.
She reached her tent and stepped inside. Her cot was set up, and a wooden tub full of steaming water was set near it. There was also a small end table and the stand for her armor. She moved to the stand and reached up to her right shoulder, slipping her fingers between the shoulder and breastplates and undid the latch within, causing the massive gauntlet to slide off her right arm, and she lay it on the end table.
She undid a similar latch under the spiked plate on her right shoulder and sat it next to the gauntlet on the table. She reached down and undid the latches on the backs of her boots that connected them to the plates on her calves and pulled them off. Next were the latches near her ankles, and on the inside of her thighs, and the plates around her legs opened on hinges, the joints on the knees the one place where the upper and lower plates remained joined, covered by a third small plate to protect her knees, and she placed them in their proper places on the stand, locking them back in place. She opened her belt and removed her sword, laying them both on the end table.
Next came the breastplate, which was joined by two latches on the shoulders, normally under the shoulder plates, two near her hips, which the belt concealed, and one final one directly between her legs, where the front and back of the plate joined. It was a design that didn't actually allow much mobility of the waist, but her fighting style was adapted to it. She locked the plates together on the stand and turned back to the tub of inviting water.
Making sure the flap of the tent was shut, she pulled her undershirt off over her head and dropper her breeches to the ground and stepped into the steaming water, hissing once at the heat on her cold flesh. She settled down into the water with a long sigh. It wasn't exactly a luxurious bath by any means, and she couldn't stretch out like she longed to, but it was wonderful in itself.
Jorl was a man she was going to miss when he died, and not just because he was an excellent soldier. He was the only man she'd ever met, other than Ganon himself, who seemed to not focus solely on her skin and ears when they first met.
And then there was that time he'd saved her life, that always helped build one's opinion of another.
She leaned back as best she could in the tub, and closed her eyes. Yes, she remembered that day quite well. They were returning to their capitol some time after the defeat of the last of the northern warlords, and a man she'd thought was crazy at the time had walked right into the middle of their camp, alone, demanding Ganon show himself.
Ganon was still at the old warlord's city with a small number of their men, trying to get things running again so the territory could support itself again and thus be worth controlling.
And here came this idiot, looking to pick a fight. Or at least, she had thought he was an idiot at the time…
"I'm not leaving here until you come out, Ganon," the man called, "Come on, I know you're here somewhere!"
Kilishandra watched the young man from a distance where she leaned on a fence along the road, her arms crossed. He was insane, that's all there was to it. Even the way he was dressed was crazy.
Leather armor dyed bright red for starters. He stood out like a giant bull's eye for any archer with a mind to take the shot. And his weapons were preposterous. He held a sword in his right hand, an empty sheath on his left hip, as well as two more full ones next to it. He had three more swords on his right hip. Maybe he feared his weapon breaking in a fight, but under that much weight, he'd hardly be able to move in one.
The archers and other soldiers, watching him, stayed their weapons by her order. The camp had been set up next to the road, and a short distance to the east, there was a drop off, a cliff nearly two hundred feet high above a lake far below.
Jorl appeared at her side. "The archers have him. Should they fire?"
"Let's find out what he wants first," she said, "He's at least got some guts, walking into the camp alone, brandishing a sword."
And still he walked, ignoring the soldiers around him completely, and called Ganon's name once again.
"Tell me," Kilishandra called to him, "What do you want with Ganon?"
He turned to her. There was a black eye patch across his right eye. He was even blind in one eye!
"Well you see," he said, "I'm here to claim his head. Is he here or not?"
Kilishandra laughed out loud. This man was completely, stark raving insane!
When she caught her breath, she let out a long sigh. "Unfortunately, he is indisposed at this time. If you're still intent on suicide, though," she said, and drew her sword, "I think I can assist."
"My lady…" Jorl said, but she cut him off.
"I can handle this joker," she said, and moved closer to the crazy man, turning her left side to him, so her gauntlet would be ready to guard herself. "Okay, tough guy, let's see what you've got."
"That's a strange stance," he said, "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"More than you, I'd say," she said.
"All right, then," he said, taking a wide stance and taking his sword in both hands, lifting it about his head, the tip pointed toward her, "Let's get this party started."
"You who are mindless…" Kilishandra started the incantation for a spell, but the man ran for her suddenly.
She stepped back, losing her concentration on the spell as she lifted her sword to block his swing, then moved forward again, swinging the spiked knuckles of her left fist for his face.
"Woah!" he shouted, leaning his head back quickly and stepping back, "Trying to take my other eye?"
She ignored him, shoving forward again, pulling her sword behind her for the swing. He saw the chance and aimed a swing for her head. She brought her gauntlet up quickly, catching the blade on the back of her wrist, and brought her sword forward in a wide horizontal swing. The man leaped back quickly. The blade whooshed through the air, but missed his flesh.
He looked down at the split in the front of the soft leather of his armor. He gave a low whistle, then looked up again, specifically at the gauntlet. "I see now," he said with a smile, "That's cool!"
He put two fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. There was shouting in the distance.
Kilishandra looked up. Coming over a hill in the distance was a charging army.
"Ambush!" she shouted, and the men around her quickly drew their weapons and turned to the threat.
"Take defensive positions! Don't let them force us back to the cliff!" she heard Jorl shouting.
She turned back to the man before her. He was smiling. "Ganon might be a legendary man-demon, but you'd best not underestimate this one-eyed demon either," he said, "Now the real party's about to start!"
"Why don't you just jump on my sword and make this easier for both of us?" she asked, and moved toward him, keeping her gauntlet up.
What happened next caught her completely off guard. His hands flew to his hips, his arms crossing across his abdomen, then pulled back up quickly, and all six swords were in his hands.
"The hell?!" she said, stopping her advance.
He was holding each hilt between his fingers, so they extended from his fists like great claws.
"Pretty cool, huh?" he asked, "These blades are enchanted to be light as feathers. Though I'm still pretty sure they weren't intended to be used like this, but hey, your style's a little unusual, too."
He gestured with one hand toward himself. "Now come on," he said, "Don't chicken out now."
He ran for her. She was forced back as three blades whistled through the air past her face, and she fell to her back as the second set whipped past above her. He raised one hand high, and Kilishandra rolled quickly to the side as three blades raked into the ground where she had been, carving three trenches in the hard dirt.
How can he even keep his grip like that? she thought.
Suddenly, Jorl appeared over her, swinging his blade for the man, who blocked with one set of the massive claws. They were directly over her now. The man lifted the other set of blades to strike.
Kilishandra kicked upward, her foot striking him directly between the legs. The sound he made was what she would call a combination of a scream and a groan.
He staggered back as she rose to her feet.
"That was cheap," he groaned.
"You wanted a fight, you got it," she said, and moved toward him.
He stepped back more, and realized his back was to the cliff. Another step and he would fall.
"Seems you'll never get to meet Ganon," she said.
The man sheathed his right hand set of swords, and put two fingers in his mouth and gave another whistle. Immediately, the ambushers broke off the attack and fell into full retreat.
"I know it wasn't that long," the man said, sheathing his other three swords as Kilishandra turned back to him, "But I think you've got real potential. You're not the one I want anyway. Improve yourself, and we might just meet again."
Then he stepped back off the cliff.
Kilishandra moved to the edge and looked down. She saw him land in the water with a great explosive splash. A moment later, he broke the surface and started swimming to shore.
"Son of a bitch really is crazy," she said.
Kilishandra opened her eyes. She was shivering again. She had fallen asleep in the tub, and the water was ice cold. She quickly stepped out, shaking the water droplets from her body, and moved to the cot, practically diving under the blankets.
I hope I don't catch pneumonia now, she thought.
