Chapter 23
Halcyon
"Why me?" Princess Zelda asked and tucked a strand of golden brown hair behind her ear, her eyes resting on the Twilight Princess at the end of the long table.
Her first meeting with the Twilli happened approximately one year ago and she remembered the anxious churning in her stomach when Midna regally strode down a stairway of white light, bare feet smoking and head held high. A skirt of ebony, held at her waist with a thick cord of bronze, covered her indecently and Zelda blushed. What kind of Royal dress code was this? The princess came to a towering stop over the Hylian, turquoise features guarded. Eventually she smiled and in the broken curve of her lips, Zelda spied an unspoken longing.
A longing for a companion.
Now the princess sunk low in a velvet couch, long legs placed on study table strewn with scrolls and text books. The sages insisted Zelda complete her academic curriculum as soon as possible as she needed to be groomed for military arts. Zelda hated wielding the sword, but she remained unsurpassed with the bow. Silver blue eyes still on the brooding Midna, she questioned, "What do you mean by your words?"
The Twilli impatiently tossed a tome on the marble table top and Zelda, heart hammering, watched the silver bound book glide across and drop on the carpet. Pushing herself up, Midna lowered her legs and studied the Hylian princess and her Triforce dotted hand.
"What I mean is, why am I the Twilight Princess, inheritor of our ancient magic," Midna's lips curled distastefully, "and why are you, still a child, quietly filling your head with all this...rubbish," she pointed to the books, "instead of going outside and doing what normal princesses do."
"What do normal princesses do?" Zelda queried calmly.
Midna shot her a hopeless look. "Elope with a handsome man of course." She threw her head back and laughed mirthlessly. "Really now," her tone softened, "why are we the chosen ones? I never asked to be born a princess and neither did you. Does the almighty goddesses think it is fair to thrust such heavy responsibility...oh, there's that Triforce brat mowing the lawn, he looks so miserable I can't help but sneak a prank on him." The Twilli pressed her face against the panes of polished glass and saffron irises tracked Link's progress as he weaved through a dense undergrowth of grass, his sandy head disappearing beneath emerald blades. Princess Zelda joined her and two pairs of eyes watched Link demolishing the hedge.
"I still did not understand your question, Princess Midna." Zelda politely probed and seated herself on the windowsill, her silk grown draping to the floor. "And please refrain from playing pranks, no one apart from myself and the sages know you are here. Understand you are treated with a high level of secrecy."
"Unfortunately," the Twilli drawled and sank back into her couch. "...Why did the goddess choose us?" she questioned solemnly. "You are the Triforce wielder of Wisdom, can you answer my question?"
Closing her eyes, Zelda ruminated on her answer. Midna got up and paced the private library, her fingers skirting over tomes bound in animal skin and edged with precious metals and jewels. She pulled a thick book out from the teakwood shelves and caressed the edge lined with rubies winking in mid-morning sunlight.
"Humans are led to believe that we can do anything, with enough conviction and power." The Hylian princess absentmindedly traced the pages in her theology textbook. "We are led to believe we can change our fate, master our destiny, overcome obstacles and yes...we can." Midna raised an eyebrow, weighing the book in her hands. "Humans cannot fly without aid. No matter how much we may believe so, we cannot fly." Zelda turned to the window, her gaze roaming to where heaven kissed earth. "When you asked why we were born to this role...I cannot give you an answer, all I can say is that the Goddesses have chosen us and there are some things we cannot change, no matter how much we try." She traced the golden triangle marking the back of her hand. "Whether we live up to our tasks, is for us to decide." Rays of sunshine created a halo around Zelda's head and Midna appreciated the embodiment of knowledge residing in this young, level headed girl. "Why us?" The human lifted her chin, eyes flashing. "It is because we have no choice in this matter. However, I am a willing puppet."
Why me?
Link sobbed knees digging into the pavement leading to Castle Town. Midna could not reiterate Zelda's eloquent reply, she understood what the Hylian Princess meant and from that fateful day on, like Zelda, she governed the Twilight Realm akin to a willing puppet.
Some things cannot be changed no matter how much you try.
And thus, we humans, cannot fly.
In the sanctuary's basement, Renado and Shad, denim blue irises wide behind his glasses, joined Link and prowled around the broken Sky Cannon. The shaman stood a distance away, gnarled hands clasped respectfully in front of his geometric patterned robe. The scholar, armed with a duster, gleaned dust off the ancient contraption and pressed his palms against the bone white stone.
Shad poked his head inside the cannon and inspected the weapon's impossibly wide barrel. He leaned further, absorbed by stone. A metallic device, set at the back edge of the cannon, glinted in the dim light of the basement and Shad dutifully traced it.
Standing apart from them and more interested in a line of insects trickling from a hole in the wall, Link poked the nest with a stick and a colony of ants swarmed out, waving antennae in the air. He retreated from the swarm and waited for Shad to exhaust his supply of energy. But the caramel haired man rotated around the antediluvian wonder and charted figures in his notebook. Bored, Link explored the crypt; tunnels branched to all directions and lighting his lantern, he followed were his feet guided him. Stopping when the bricks underfoot gave way to natural earth, he peered into the gloom, swallowing nervously when the lantern's tangerine glow passed over soil caked bone.
Gingerly, he stepped forward. The unpleasant undertones of rotting earth hit his nose and he sneezed, the sound echoed through the tunnel and he squared his shoulders. His boots crunched over what he assumed was bone and without looking downwards, he marched deeper, determined to see where the tunnel ended. Might he find buried treasure? The ground beneath his feet shifted and several long sticks poked his shin, lowering the lantern, Link laid eyes on a sea of bone. Blank skulls swam on top of femurs and ribcages and between the ocean of off white, the glint of gold shone through.
Turquoise and garnet winked between gaps. Emerald and Aquamarine stone studded teeth.
"This used to be a royal grave yard." The Twilli emerged, nose wrinkling at the remains of royalty. "Heh, even they aren't blessed with eternal life." Midna hovered over the remains, imprinting mortality behind her eyelids.
"Is the Hero of Time buried here?" Link asked, voice reverberating from the rich tomb; Midna shook her head and he scowled. "Then were? Not even Shad can pinpoint his grave and he knows everything," the adolescent exclaimed and lowered his lantern in defeat. "I mean, he was a very important person right, so he might be here..." he trailed off, uncertain.
A mass of jewels lay beneath the film of bones and glittered when touched by light. "Yes he was an important individual, but he was not royalty. No one knows where his grave is because he died as a wandering nomad, for all you know, it could be in some obscure patch of forest," the imp said. "We don't have time to search for an elusive grave, I hope you remember that."
"I know." Link retraced his steps, hopefully Shad left. "I just thought I might see his grave, I still can't believe the cranky old ghost was him. So, he's my Dad or something?" Deep in thought, Link mentally compared the harsh specter with some of his model grandfatherly figures like Gor Coron. "He's not Dad material but," he recalled the Hero's smile, "once the skin on his face grew back, he looked warm and happy." Blowing out the lantern, Link basked in the warmth from the candles bolted to the brick tunnel and lumbered up an incline, where the wayward burrows branched back to the tunnel.
Trailing in his shadow, Midna corrected, "The Hero of Time is not your father." Link gasped, horrified; as if such a thing was impossible. Sneering, she continued, "You are a descendent, which means he is your great grandfather's grandfather." She watched the human's cognitive gears whirring as he tried (and failed) to process the bit of information. "All you need to know is that his blood runs in your veins, which alone should be enough of an honor."
"So my blood is precious." The hero sagely concluded and looked as his palms. Nodding to himself and purpose renewed in icy blue eyes, he backtracked to the cavern holding the dismembered Sky Cannon. To his dismay, Shad, silver cobwebs dusting his hair, patrolled the ancient weapon, when he spied Link, his face lit up.
"How are you going to transport the cannon to Fyer's place?" the scholar asked as he thumped his diary's pages. "I've tried to come up with a suitable solution but," he scratched his head, "taking it out of the basement and through Renado's front door will pose a considerable challenge. In the first place, the cannon's dimensions are so huge," Shad pointed to the bulging barrel lying crookedly on the floor, "that lifting it will be a hassle." He thoughtfully scratched his cheek. "I don't think creating a tunnel from above and using a lift to pick it up is an option."
Link glanced at his shadow staining the floor. "If you don't mind leaving me alone for a while," he gripped a cannon wheel and strained to lift it. "I might be able to get it to Lake Hylia without a problem." The granite wheel slipped from his grasp and landed half an inch away from his boot. "Don't worry," he flashed a confident smile while Shad concernedly gaped at the near accident, "I got this."
By late afternoon, the hero walked into the canon repair shop situated on a miniscule island in the middle of Lake Hylia. Why Fyer chose this goddess forsaken place, Link did not understand but he loved how the disk of land floated alone over the water. It reminded him of the islands back home. The broken Sky Cannon was dumped behind the haphazardly built shop and Midna, exhausted with warping such a colossal artifact, slept and threatened Link not to wake her up unless an Armageddon took place.
Grinning to himself, Link inspected the junk on display. He picked up interlocking gears with flat teeth, small cannon balls and strayed away from ominously glinting harpoons.
The barbed spears transported him to the whaling tradition on Outset Island. Sailors pushed large skiffs out to sea and often returned with one or two whales. The massive creatures were laid out on the beach and for several days, the animals were skinned and cut, harvested of everything, even their bone. Whale fat became a precious commodity as it could be used for soaps and hard perfumes.
Slinking through dusty wooden shelves, Link stopped to ogle at a boat parts. He picked up a slender, decorated oar and quickly put it back when his eyes snagged the attached price tag. At the back of the shop, a pair of round, black rimmed eyes followed the young male's every move and when Link finally reached the counter, he scrutinized the shopkeeper, eyes travelling up and down and pausing at the hot pink, midriff jacket squeezed on Fyer's burly shoulders.
Eww.
Who in their right mind wore such stuff? Link tore his eyes away from the man. Fyer's lower lip, painted in mauve (purple was evil), dropped to his chin and his abdomen, containing a triangular patch of hair, protruded beneath his jacket. At a loss for words, the adolescent let his mind wander to a shelf behind the shopkeeper and he smiled tightly when a little cannon figurine leapt at him.
"I've got a cannon in your back yard," Link explained and Fyer's eyes, ringed in clown make up, widened to epic proportions. "I think Auru mentioned the Sky Cannon?" Link asked, wondering if he should poke the balloon like abdomen for a response.
"Don't be crude." Midna snapped and resumed snoring.
"Yes, that will be three thousand rupees for my services," Fyer droned in a voice so dry, Link failed to understand his words properly.
However, he heard the amount loud and clear and Holy Jabun! The adolescent quickly turned and tipped a multitude of silver rupees in his palm. Three thousand? That was a little more than his painstakingly saved stash of money! He spun back, bottom lip pushed against his top one in a pleading pout.
"No negotiations," Fyer hissed in obvious pleasure and Link's forlorn gaze dropped back to his hands.
Tears almost escaped his eyes as he dumped the rupees on the counter, his heart shattering like fragile glass. The shopkeeper greedily inspected the money and grinned, revealing a mouthful of uneven teeth. Not in the mood to share happiness, Link stalked outside and glared at the setting sun, he refocused his glare at the damaged Sky Cannon and kicked it for good measure. The unyielding basalt struck back with equal force and muttering a curse under his breath, he massaged his throbbing foot.
"Did Grandma never tell you not to say such ugly words?" the Twilli enquired with a yawn and Link felt her puttering around in his head...or wherever she went when she melted in his shadow. Squatting on a patch of lush grass, he dug through a small waist pack for food.
A crew of workers emerged from Fyer's shop and immediately set to work, creating a scaffolding around the humungous cannon. Biting into a pastry, Link drew closer to the work site and Fyer, supervising the project, sidled to him.
"It will take around three weeks to finish the work; you can leave it to us," the cannon repair man informed before loping off and hollering at a random worker to measure the cannon.
The cloudy sky darkened to a rich blue-black and Link walked to the edge of the small island. He pulled off his boots and waded to the shoreline where the shockingly cold water nipped his swollen toes. Sighing contentedly, he removed his cap and undressed. Bare chested, he hugged himself and closed his eyes. The wind caressed him and hair whipping; Link dived into the waters of Lake Hylia.
For three weeks, the men toiled and chipped at the Sky Cannon and Link relived his island life. Instead of returning to Ordona Village, as his companion suggested, he built a shelter at the edge of the land and spent his days swimming and fishing. Unlike the beaches of Outset Island, which offered him plenty of crabs, periwinkles and mussels rooted on seaweed strewn boulders, the strip of white sand serving as a border between lake and land only gave him empty shells and bleached fish skeletons. The lack of coconut palms also bothered him, what should a guy eat if stranded here?
Fishing boats, crammed to the brim with Zora, typically sailed the waters before true dawn. Shivering in the mist clouding the lake front, Link watched gilded prows cutting through the fog and lanterns casting an otherworldly glow. Twice, he witnessed an extreme form of water sports. The Zora, scaly bodies glinting in the sun, competed with each other in rowing colorful canoes down the crashing waterfall. A grilled fish half-way to his mouth, Link rose from his smoky fireplace and witnessed a bronze canoe fighting against the torrential might of the waterfall. He gulped, heart roaring in his ears. When the canoe landed at the base of the falls without cracking into driftwood, he ran to the island's edge and cheered along with the sporting Zora.
One early morning, the day dawned wet. A white bird sheltered underneath a tall fir tree and hopped down to inspect the tent. It waltzed right into the warm interior and screwed beady eyes on the snoring man heaped ungainly underneath a pile of blankets and clothes. Gingerly removing a sock from the human's arm, the bird examined the Triforce and regarded the drooling hero.
Ooccoo never doubted the Goddesses' decisions, humans and their race did not mix, but perhaps the time came to shatter these outdated views and steer the bird race into an era where they freely shared and lived amongst others. Provided the Hylian Royal sages allowed them to practice light magic of course. The shadow around Link's head elongated and color leached into Midna's skin. The imp and Ooccoo greeted each other solemnly and thereafter, she kicked the Hero of Twilight, tiny foot lashing on his head.
"That must hurt," Ooccoo said.
Midna grinned devilishly. "The lazy...the brat deserved it." She huffed and pulled the clothes piling on top of Link. Wordlessly, she folded them and the adolescent stirred, hand clamped against his throbbing cheek.
"You didn't have to kick me," Link moaned and sat upright, coming face to face with Ooccoo's apologetic expression. "What are you wearing?" he asked, pointing to the golden kilt sitting snugly on the bird-thing's midsection. "And is this a necklace?" The human pitched forward, hand fastening around the string of precious jewels Ooccoo donned.
The bird hopped back. "Yes, it is important to appear presentable when inviting someone from below. I am an ambassador of Sky City." Behind the gawping Link, Midna wrinkled her nose and warped a bag of trash. "I aim to re-establish connections between the surface world and Sky City and I'm welcoming you first, Hero of Twilight. You have proved yourself to be a just young man. Still transfixed with the cobalt stones around the bird's neck, Link gestured at them. "They are turquoise, if you visit our city, I'm sure the other Ooccoo will craft you one."
Thrilled at the prospect of getting a snazzy necklace of turquoise, Link jumped up from his bedroll and Midna dourly rolled it. He dressed, carefully pulling the chainmail over a thin shirt before securing the green, hero's tunic on top. Tightening his boots, he hopped outside, barely sparing the fishing vessels a glance.
The Sky Cannon shone with droplets of water. Completed yesterday evening, Link forlornly handed over all three thousand rupees to Fyer but now, he did not regret it. Bundling the tent and giving it to Midna who stowed it away, he stalked towards the Sky Cannon and Ooccoo followed behind, feet dampened by the dewy grass.
"In case you need a reminder," Ooccoo piped, "you are not going to Sky City for a pleasure cruise. Centuries of silence between our world and this one, has brought ruin to us. We want you to get rid of the draconic monster hoarding our city."
Body half swallowed by the cannon muzzle, Link kicked and landed in a heap inside the spacious barrel. He glared balefully at the ivory skinned Ooccoo and groped for the trigger switch. "Slaying dragons is not on my work list," he muttered and retrieved his clawshot, "but I guess I have to do it because of the Mirror shard; but first thing first...Take off!"
The cannon blasted a human and bird into the sky. Jubilant, Link screamed, spreading his arms and legs like a starfish. Tears streamed in his eyes and safely cocooned from the elements inside Link's shadow, Midna watched him bullet through the clouds and head straight for the floating speck in the sky.
She recalled Zelda's words:
A willing puppet.
XXXXX
Taming wayward wind
The blade of evil's bane rested in a pedestal, as it should. Dragging his felt boots across the worn steps, Link climbed downwards to the musty crypt and his eyes darted, catching the seven sages imprinted in colored glass. Alighting in front of the Master Sword, he lifted his gaze to the stone statues guarding the blade and the stained glass humming with magic. From deep within the castle's crevices, the sad lament of an ocarina lingered and he closed his eyes. It was the same tune whistling through the dense undergrowth in Forest Haven.
Walking away from the magnetic pull of the sword, he studied the windows, naming the sages preserved within. Impa, leader of the Sheikha, glared at him with scarlet irises, her posture one of power. Next to her, Princess Ruto, framed by cobalt fins and palms pressed together in prayer. He lingered near the forms of Rauru, Daruina with his spiky hair and infectious smile and Nabooru, the female sage with flaming hair. Coming to a stop before Saria, he bowed at the Kokkiri child, her olive green eyes shone in perpetual kindness. Moving on, he knelt before Princess Zelda; leader of the seven sages.
Dusting his knees, Link gravitated back towards the Master Sword. His heart no longer beat erratically and a strange calmness descended on him. Gripping the blue handle respectfully, he inhaled and pulled it out.
The distant crash of stone throbbed in his ears and he bewilderedly stared at the statues above his head. Were they corroding? Silently, he hopped to the side when the granite guardian's sword broke off and crushed the floor. A cacophony of noises and shrieks erupted above ground and grasping the newly acquired blade, Link tore up the stairs, cautiously popping his head above ground.
A Darknut paraded right past him, dusty armor clinking.
Eyes wide in disbelief, Link leaned against the staircase wall and unsheathed his practice blade. He weighed his two weapons, suddenly misty eyed. Although the smaller sword was vastly inferior to the Master blade, it served him well throughout his journey and Link could not bear to part with it. Making up his mind, he sheathed the practice sword at his waist nestled the Master Sword on his back with the shield. Head held high, he strode fearlessly to the surface and all the reanimated monsters paused in the swaggering to goggle at the diminutive human rising from below.
A Moblin screeched.
Attack!
Two Darknuts raced neck to neck, armored boots beating stone tiles as they fluidly drew their weapons and cut across the air, aiming to swipe the blonde nuisance's head off. To their collective surprise, Link braced their attacks on his shield and pitch eyes glimmering venomously, he pushed the Darknuts back, unbalancing them.
As they tried to regain their footing, a silver blade sliced through their armor straps and twin breastplates clanged to the floor, one after the other. Rolling, Link rose behind one unarmored monster and stabbed it in the back.
The other whirled and sliced its massive sword.
Stepping inside the deadly arc of the blade, Link seized the Darknut's wrist and buried his weapon in the monster's chest. A spurt of blood dotted his forehead and the beast dropped, face planting to the ground.
Twirling his new favorite blade, Link turned, gracing the other monsters with a soft smile.
Despite the two corpses, the moblin charged, hefting tasseled spears in the air. Grasping one by the wooden shaft, Link helped one monster murder the other. Wrenching the distraught Moblin's spear, he held it like a lance and broke into a run, running the pointy tip through the beast and coming to a juddering halt. Palms burning, he let go of the spear and picked out a splinter pricking his thumb.
Crushed ornamental pillar fragments lay at his feet. The floor disappeared under severed body parts and sticky patches of blood. Smashed pottery, blue and white pieces, were strewn with monster heads. Breathing hard and sitting down at the pedestal of the gigantic statue, Link inspected several rips in his tunic and touched his lacerations with rubbing alcohol. He drank a bottle of potion and rested. The once immaculate palace stank of coagulated blood and decomposing flesh and the boy's lips curved into an upward smile.
I am forcing the Goddesses to choose me, Link decided and looked at the Hero of Time's statue, its stone eyes fixed to a point unknown. Bowing to the statue, he spun on his heel and followed the exit.
The King of Red Lions waited expectantly for him. "You were gone longer than I hoped," he said and noted a new scar slashing Link's upper arm. "I started worrying when time resumed and you would not come out." Blinking, the boy noticed algae smothering the castle turrets and local sea-life drifted in and out of abandoned towers. "The main building is still secured," the figurehead assured and his eyes gleamed. "You have nothing to fear, water will never erode the Hero's statue." Link flushed, wondering if his obsession was that obvious. "My boy," Daphnes called, "are you feeling alright? Did you find the answers you seek?"
Backing out of the deckhouse with a fresh, crayfish printed tunic, Link leaned against the figurehead. "Not particularly, however, I decided to forge my own path," he stated defiantly and the King of Red Lions drifted upwards, returning to the realm of reality. "I don't have the Triforce of Courage any longer, but I will force the deities to bestow it on me so I can vanquish Ganondorf for good." Wrapping his arms around the figurehead, Link pressed his cheek against the wood. "Do I sound like a raving madman when I say so?"
"Man?" the boat teased and suffered an indignant knock to his chin. "I have one question." A school of lemon yellow fish darted past the magical boat and into the safety of the darkness beyond. "Why?"
Why?
The simple question forced Link to rethink his answer. At the Tower of Gods, the guardian deemed his reasons unworthy.
"Because we all have a part to play and my part is to bring balance to the Triforce. Anyone with enough conviction can replace me," he thought about the child occupying his body, "but right now, I'm not doing it because I feel like it is my sole duty to save the Great Seas...but because it is the moral thing, the right thing to do. Previously," Link explained, hugging the figurehead tighter as tendrils of sunlight seeped into the ocean. "I thought it was my birthright. I was proud of being a wielder of the Triforce and I suppose, I lost faith in other people..." Link trailed off, his arms loosened from the dragon-head and he slunk away.
"I do not understand," Daphnes creaked as he rotated backwards, "what do you mean by birthright?"
Boat and passenger speared from beneath the surface of the Great Sea. Water streamed off the boat and to his dismay, Link shivered in his soaked tunic. Grabbing a bucket, he doled water out of the deck and scurried around to rescue any loose parchments or waste floating to the sea.
"I forgot to tell you." The boy sheepishly scratched the back of his head while the King of Red Lion's prussian blue eyes saw right through his transparent lie. "I'm descended from the Hero of Time, he is my maternal ancestor." The watercraft's wooden eyebrows shot up. "Because of that," Link sighed, "I'm so foolish."
A cyclone raged near northwest Triangle Island, a malicious twister of wind funneling a bank of clouds on top of it. The horizon grew dark and even from this distance, the watercraft tasted wrath. "Cyclos..." he muttered. On deck, Link aimlessly wandered about before settling with his sea charts. Protected in a lacquered sheath, the Master Sword leaned against a crate and the boy kept a firm grip on it.
Earlier enthusiasm diluted by the weight of work, he scowled at the map and conferred a sailor's journal. "Link," the boat probed and head jerking up, the boy waited. "How are you feeling?" Coal black eyes gazed vacantly at the sea. "I understand the trip to Hyrule Castle could have given you much more." The child nodded listlessly and draped himself over the boat, small hands skimming the water. "You are eager to set sail and the next destination will be the Forsaken Fortress."
A momentary spark crossed Link's eyes and faded. Shrugging, he grabbed a swab and cleaned, wiping sea salt and grime off the deck planks.
"Next destination or not, I want to pay the Forsaken Fortress a visit. My sister is there and I must rescue her." A flock of seagulls streaked overhead, peppering his words with loud squawks. "I told myself that the moment I get a suitable weapon, I will rescue her. Although, I don't think of her as my sister." Link bent on his knees to pick a piece of seaweed and toss it overboard. "I travelled to Old Hyrule and I think, the journey answered some of my questions...no," he shook his head, fingers twisting the swab, "It did answer my questions but I still feel nothing, I feel so empty and it's choking me!" He twisted the cotton cloth till it tore. "I can't breathe." Link confessed through gritted teeth.
Grabbing the Master Sword, he worked on his sets. The blade glinted, cutting through air and he moved fluidly, lunging, slicing, breathing raggedly.
"What's wrong with me?"
Wind and water roared and with one ear tending to Link's woes, Daphnes turned his attention back to the unnatural storm. Clouds created a bank of pewter above the cyclone and the atmosphere cackled. Soon the windstorm will give way to thunder and lashing rain and the entire area will be at the mercy of Cyclos' misplaced wrath. The King of Red Lions formulated a plan in his head, the violent wind god needed to be brought down a peg or two and who better than the boy forcing gods to acknowledge him?
"There is a storm brewing in the northern horizon," the boat stated and Link glowered at him, what did a storm have to do with his practice session? "And I was thinking, it is en-route to the Forsaken Fortress and the cyclone is artificial, do you remember Zephos?" Interest piqued, the child nodded, his blade lowering. "I believe he told you about his wayward brother, Cyclos, whose monument was shattered and to compensate for that, he creates unnatural cyclones on the sea, terrorizing everyone." Link scowled, the storm deity's behavior left much to be desired. "Perhaps you should tame the storm?" the King of Red Lions suggested eagerly, his passenger will never pass on an opportunity to test his sword on a worthy opponent.
To his astonishment, Link's head hung low, reluctance apparent in the downward tilt of his lips.
He trudged into the deckhouse, leaving the figurehead sighing in the wind.
Evening dawned, a blanket of weak sunshine. Waves lapped against the boat's hull, spraying foam on the deck. Hair disheveled, Link emerged from the deckhouse, troubled sleep marking black circles around his eyes. He slumped on a crate, nibbled a buttered biscuit and ground it in his hands, sprinkling crumbs on the sea's surface. A school of young Fishmen, colors dull, swarmed around the bait and polished it off.
The boy returned to meticulously organizing his things and eventually leaning against the mast with a thick tome balanced in skinny arms. Reading but not comprehending, he shut the book and closed his eyes, feeling the ocean and boat sway under him. The uneven rocking calmed him and grabbing the telescope, he surveyed the storm. True to the Daphnes' words, a gigantic cyclone spun, whirl-pooling small ships into its center; getting up, Link surveyed the ominous gathering of clouds above the raging funnel.
How many people could say they tempered a storm god?
He stared straight ahead, the wall of wind appeared impenetrable. But did such things stop him?
Wordlessly, he raised the sail and adjusted the horizontal boom. A flick with the WindWaker granted him a favorable, north westerly gale. New sail cloth billowing, the King of Red Lions skipped over the sea, gaining an entourage of sharks and seagulls along the way. Setting up a cardboard target at the back, Link experimented with the bow and arrow. His shots went wide, missing the center circle entirely. The boat's swaying unbalanced him and he tightened his fingers on the drawstring, nocked a bow and drew it.
Patience...
The arrow flew and split the target dead center.
Droplets of freezing water stung his face and the boat buckled in wild waves. Here, in this zone of howling wind and gurgling water, nature's laws deserted them and Link tottered left and right, pulled by the merciless surfs. Several times he slipped, earning a map of blue bruises on his chin, he fastened himself on the mast with a length of rope, but the frayed lariat snapped in half and sent him colliding head first in a barrel of fruit. Shaking off a banana, he stood upright, glowering at the cyclone.
A piece of driftwood sailed above his head and crashed in the sea behind him.
The landscape tinted grey, like the timeless environment of old Hyrule. Wiping the spyglass' lens, Link peered through it, hoping to glimpse the storm god, unfortunately, Cyclos remained elusive and getting closer to the eye of the storm remained the only chance to trap the deity. A whirlpool sucked objects in the center and Link contemplated on using the cannon to land a hit on Cyclos, he immediately dismissed the idea.
A wind god, not a kraken, the hero concluded and searched for an inlet. Grabbing an oar, he paddled furiously and the oar snapped. Swearing, he grabbed another paddle and rowed, muscles screaming.
The boat veered left and right, suddenly the current swept it away and Link held on for dear life as rain lashed his face and body.
He retched; the constant movement upset his stomach.
Gluing the telescope to his eye, he caught a sliver of crimson riding atop a pale purple cloud.
Cyclos.
Link grinned triumphantly and groped on the deck, his hands closed around a piece of heavy duty rope. Looping the rope around his waist, he tied it several times to the mast, his fingers burning. The position did not allow much maneuvering but...beggars can't be choosers. Holding his bow steady, Link commanded the King of Red Lions to sail as smooth as possible; the boat barked an ignoble snippet of laughter but promised to do his best. Tasting salt in the wind, the boy gained a clear visual of Cyclos orchestrating the storm with madness in his eyes. Nocking a bow, Link aimed for the frog's midsection and let the drawstring loose.
Against all odds, the arrow pierced Cyclos's butt.
Mortified, Link hurriedly fired several more arrows and the wind twisted them in all the wrong directions. Clenching teeth, he aimed for Cyclos' head; surely a powerful deity such as him will not be much affected? The flying arrow whizzed away, its arrowhead separating from the wooden shaft. With one arrow left, the hero suffered the unbridled wrath of Cyclos' hatred fuelled stare and arms shaking, Link took aim.
He closed his eyes and breathed. The target, a wooden dummy, stood over a kilometer away. His instructor, blonde ponytail held together by a bronze clasp, studied him with her hands on her hips. A short sleeved tunic revealed muscular arms, toned to perfection by the art of archery.
The arrow fletching quivered above Cyclos' chest. Surprised, the frog grasped the projectile with fat fingers and removed it. Horizontal pupils landed on the green clothed menace riding a boat with...was that the King of Red Lions? Puffing resentfully, the storm god dissipated the cyclone and wisps of powerful wind cantered off to the four cardinal points. The carpet of grey above the sea remained but the forceful tides bowed and smoothed.
Cyclos lowered just enough for the puny human to gaze, neck craning, in awe. "Got yourself another pet have you, Daphnes?" he sneered and squinted at the child looking like over roasted peanut. "I don't see the Triforce on his hand, not the one the legends speak of eh?"
Despite the crass commentary, Link bowed low and the King of Red Lions followed suit after a moment's hesitation. "Cyclos, old friend," he greeted and the crimson frog grudgingly acknowledged them both. "I have finally found the hero spoken of in legends." Daphnes nodded to Link appraising the god. "He is able to use the WindWaker and pulled out the Master Sword in Hyrule sunk under the sea." At this, Cyclos hovered lower, grudging respect flicking on his face. "His name is Link, as is the tradition, and with your help, we will sail to the Forsaken Fortress and defeat Ganondorf who, if I may remind you, has been terrorizing the high seas for more than a few centuries."
The storm frog eyed the figurehead sharply and closed bulbous eyes.
"What do you mean by my help?" Cyclos snapped and folded his arms above his chest. Yellow, bushy eyebrows sat snugly over a pair of perpetually irked eyes. "If you want to learn the Ballad of Gales, fix my monument first!" The wind whistled, whipping the ocean's waves into small peaks. The King of Red Lions continued staring and rapidly losing respect over the temperamental frog, Link snorted under his breath and ambled to the food chests. Braving a storm depleted his energy. "Oi pint sized kid-"
"He is not a child, please refrain from addressing him as such," Daphnes quickly interjected before his enraged passenger hurled a cheese wheel at Cyclos. "He might be young of stature, but he is formidable in battle, what else do I need to say to convince you old friend? Your monument is constantly destroyed because you destroy it. Why should island residents be thankful of your emotional storms?"
Cyclos rubbed a wart filled finger under his chin. "Hmm...good point, I always hated that rational thinking of yours," the frog declared, whipping the wind into a gale. "No wonder you and Zephos get along with each other." Turning to Link, he observed the boy eat, ebony irises fixed absentmindedly on the deck. "Come here, Hero of Winds." The child put his food down, extracted the WindWaker from a sack and held up like a conductor. "The Ballad of Gales will allow you to teleport across the Great Sea," Cyclos informed and the puny human on deck raised an eyebrow. "I see you are skeptical, by my cyclones are weaved from wind and spirit, think less of it and you will be shredded like many others before you." Link schooled his facial expression into one of utmost appreciation and inhaled when the storm god grinned self-satisfactorily. "Listen, to the Ballad of Gales," he announced and raised his arms.
A red boat sailed on calm waters and giant search lights silhouetted the bare branches of the Forsaken Fortress. Hanging over the watercraft's taffrails, Link vomited, his face pale. He gripped the WindWaker weakly in his left hand and closed his eyes.
The Ballad of Gales was a formidable symphony and for the first time since he wielded it, the hero regarded the eggshell white baton with a measure of respect and awe.
It whipped up a cyclone before his very eyes. A roaring, vertical tower of wind and water and he rode on top of his, whisking across the Great Sea in dizzying circles before the storm collapsed and deposited him some leagues away from the stone fortress.
He clutched his throbbing head and retched some more.
Unbelievable.
Wiping his saliva streaked mouth, Link shakily rose to his legs and screwed the spyglass to his eye, the King of Red Lions admonished him to rest but the words echoed like they were underwater and after the first few sentences, Link stopped listening. Blood roared in his ears and he focused intently at a window swarming with seagulls. Moving the telescope, he noted other, glassless windows, squares cut into stone, however the one with thick steel columns shone with the soft, pumpkin orange glow of candle light.
He lowered the telescope and glared, eyes rising to the boat snarled in the boughs of a stone tree.
"Ganondorf," Link hissed under his breath.
A/N: My beloved Mindy is a crack-shot with an air rifle and a bow, as for me, I couldn't even shoot a target even if it was right in front of my nose, I have the worst aim of my siblings and my brother is good by practice. I like to imagine Zelda and Midna to be very good friends. They both share their burdens and secrets with each other.
It's nice to have a person to confide to, but unfortunately, such close friends can be few and hard to come by. So, make an example, try to be someone who can be confided in. Be a secret keeper.
At Novirp13: Your tears are delicious.
Much gratitude to Himegoto-chan for liking the story.
Please read and review, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Have a dark chocolate filled day.