Chapter 12

Link found he had little to say. He followed Boros through the acts of scouting, and then preparation. He mechanically poured black powder, harvested from a hidden cache, into metal containers. He ground herbs into a fine powder, which Boros would distill into potions. He fletched arrows and sharpened swords.

There was little more to his life. His newfound guilt coiled in his gut. It pulled his thoughts down so that he could consider only what he was doing, and what he had done. The more he lived in the present, the less he could live in the past.

One day while they were mixing potions, Boros slammed his hands down on the table. "Wake up!" he barked. "You're wallowing like a pig. We can't afford that."

Link looked up, unsure how to respond.

"Oh, stop looking hurt. So you delivered the Triforce of Power to Ganon. Fine. If you want him to keep it, keep moping around. You want absolution? Kill Ganon. Break his power and drive his monsters from our land. Or give me your Triforce shards and I will go find another hero."

"How can you still work with me?" Link asked.

"Pfah! You think you're the first idiot knight? You think your crimes sunder your vows? Thinking, that's the problem, you think too bloody much. Let's go for a run."

Boros'pace was brutal. He climbed the steep hills at a sprint, and descended the other side faster still. Link struggled to keep his feet beneath him. Soon he was drenched in sweat, and he pulled off his tunic to let his skin breathe.

When he could no longer keep up, and stumbled to his knees, Boros stopped. Before Link had fully recovered, they began to spar. Link held back at first, worried about injuring the man, but Boros pressed him intensely. Hesoon found himself fighting with his all, struggling to keep his head up as they rained blows upon each other.

They ended panting on the ground. Though exhausted, Link felt alive as only fighting could make him feel. Every full breath filled him with joy; every racing heartbeat anchored him in the present. The patches of grass stuck by sweat to his skin, the bruises already forming, shielded him from dwelling on what had come before.

"Remember," Boros gasped beside him. "Too old to teach you a second time."

From that moment, he stayed focused on their preparations. Thoughts of maps and the man's strange alchemies replaced thoughts of guilt. From dawn, he would craft bombs, haul supplies to hidden caches close to the Moblins' cave, discuss tactics, and stretch. Boros prohibited any heavier exercise.

"You're strong enough," he said. "We need you rested and hale, more than anything."

The man had somehow collected a diverse and arcane bookshelf, which they consulted often. The most common reference was from a faded dusty book in an ancient language. The diagrams were clear enough still, and Boros knew enough words to work out the rest, or so he claimed.

"The other potion worked well enough, anyways," he said. "Never tried this one. When it comes to magics of life, you don't mess around unless you bloody well have to."

The potion, by this time, was turning an unnatural blue color and emitting a stench so strong Link was sure the Moblins would be able to detect it from inside their cave.

"What did the other potion do?"

Boros laughed. "Ask again when you're older."

A week later, Boros deemed them ready. They camped out beneath a pine tree a couple of miles from the Moblin cave. Too close to risk a fire, but the autumn air had only a mild chill, and the dense foliage did a little to trap heat.

They would get little sleep anyway. Two hours before dawn they arose and trekked a half-mile to their first cache. Boros made Link stand some distance away while he navigated the traps protecting the two bombs in the center. Then, when he had extracted both of them, they carried them around to the back wall of the cave.

At the sun's first light, they had placed eight of the bombs, and stood a good deal back, covering behind a thick oak tree.

"You're sure this is a hidden entrance, right? We're not just blowing a dent into a mountain?"

"Of course I'm sure," Boros huffed. "It's the magic of the Lost Hills. The cave is a nexus point, and the contour ratio doesn't hold unless it's shaped a certain way." He paused. "And I found an old map. That used to be the second entrance to a mine. They must have collapsed the entrance at some point."

"If you say so." Link steeled himself and readied his sword. He was moments away from plunging into a world of chaos, yet again.

He released a sword beam, and the side of the mountain exploded. Link dived to the ground, covering his ears. He sprang up as soon as the blast settled, shaken by how close he was, how the air had pounded against his chest. The Moblins would be rushing to investigate, and he had to act while they were confused.

Boros led them around to the cave mouth, a circuitous route through the magical passes of the Lost Hills. Moblins poured out of it, grasping spears and bows, and roaring incoherently. A packed mob of oblivious targets. Link and Boros released a barrage of sword beams into their ranks, and bodies piled upon each other, tripping up the surviving Moblins in their confused stampede.

Link's strength waned. Each burst seemed to erode at his will until it became a strain to keep his arm raised. He hesitated-only for a moment—and drew the magical rod. It effortlessly poured a stream of fire upon the remaining monsters. Boros grimaced beside him, but remained silent and kept up his own onslaught.

At last it ended. There was no more sign of movement near the cave entrance.

"And now, we flank," Boros said. Until that moment, Link had been skeptical. Two people did not execute a flanking maneuver. Two people split up and got massacred. But in the heat of battle, with the old knight beside him, Link gave it no second thought. While Boros circled back to the entrance they had created, Link charged.

He sprinted past the bodies and descended into the twisting passages. He moved as fast as he dared in the near-darkness. The only light sources were dim candles maintaining small auras at the passage intersections. Link navigated by sound and touch as much as sight.

A Moblin lumbered about in the passage ahead. Link sprang forward, slit his throat, and continued on. He came to a fork, and the Triforce guided him first down the left path, then the right. The further he ran, the more Moblins he encountered. He killed the ones in the way of his charge and ignored the others.

Covered in sweat and exhausted, Link emerged into an expansive room. A blue-cloaked figure stood at the center. He held a smooth rod, just like Link's, and his hand shone with the light of the goddesses. A demonic grin glowed beneath the cowls of his hood. Link jumped to the side, lashing out with bursts of magic from both his sword and his rod, but invisible cords caught him under the arms. His shots went wide and burst helplessly against the stone wall.

Link hung helplessly in the air. The cords pressed tighter until he could not even wriggle within their grasp. The mage stepped closer, and Link lowered until his feet were inches off the ground, and the two were face-to-face.

"Let me go!" Link snarled. The mage seemed to ignore him. He lifted Link's hand delicately and examined it.

"You have done good work boy," he said in a low rasp. "This saves me much trouble." He gripped harder, and Link felt a tendril of energy poke into his hand. "It won't come off," he said, raising his rod.

Link opened his mouth to mock the mage, but as soon as he did a burst of air forced his tongue to the back of his mouth, and all he could do was moan.

The mage shook his head and lowered it. "No, killing you would be hasty. We will see what can be done, in time."

He ambled out as though deep in thought, and all Link could do was watch. I hope old Boros is having more luck, he thought.

"Well good morning, Sister Sophia," Kara beamed. "Never thought I'd see you being social at breakfast. How's your promotion, eh?"

Sophia wanted to fidget. Instead, she reached for a roll and began to spread it with fresh grape jam. Controlled, as all things must be now.

"You should head the abbey's defense," she said with no preamble. "My skills lie elsewhere."

Kara put her fork down, and her face flashed from an earnest smile to a confused furrow, and finally a calm, serious demeanor. "Sophia, you are doing a wonderful job, you mustn't doubt yourself." She lowered her voice. "If the other sisters hear you don't believe in yourself, they'd never follow you."

"I am not here to complain, Sister Kara," Sophia said. I saw you keeping everyone's spirits while we were chopping wood for the fortifications. I saw you keeping them steady at the wall, and organizing the water, and comforting the injured afterward. I could never lead like that."

Kara shrugged, apparently still trying to be casual. "Aye, I admit the thought crossed my mind, but-" She raised her eyebrows. "You're going after Link, aren't you?"

Sophia smiled. As gregarious as Kara could be, Sophia had always liked her. She had a good head for what everyone was thinking.

"His quest is important, and I feel he needs someone to reign in his more brash ideas lest he get killed for it."

"You mean he needs someone to put her foot down when he's being a reckless dolt."

"It's settled then." Sophia stood up and grabbed the last of her roll. "Thank you, Sister Kara, and good luck."

Sophia had not been entirely honest. It was true Link would need a firm hand to save him from himself, as it were, but that alone would not be enough to send Sophia out the abbey door. Ever since they had gone questing after the Moblins' explosive cache, the abbey had begun to feel stuffy, the rules and formalities as suffocating as the red sandstone walls. In her final encounter with Kara, for example, had she meant to stay within the abbey, a proper sister in the good graces of all, she would have had to make up some half dozen empty statements after the conversation had actually ended, just to politely end it and say good-bye. And that was assuming that Kara didn't create some sort of hubbub about the event, forcing her to say good-bye to other sisters, and say how much she'd miss them, and let them wish her well for all the good that would do.

In short, she was free of her formal duties, both express and implied, and it felt wonderful.

She made her way into the forest and followed the canon's trail backward. It would have been obvious even without Link's brief attempts at training. Uprooted shrubbery, battered down with tread marks and heavy footprints, paved a winding path among giant trees.

The going was easy, overall, but filled with discomfort. She was not used to so much walking, and aches plagued her after the first day. At times it was a struggle to keep going, but she pushed through it the same way she pushed through late nights of candle-lit study. Sleeping was a surprising difficulty. She was used to knowing all her sisters were near, and in the previous excursion there was at least Link and Sophia. Now, when she made her bed in a low spot beside the path, the isolation set in, and fear pricked at her.

When the slowly rising land turned to a series of barren foothills, she paused and tapped her chin. "There is something peculiar about this," she muttered to herself, but she could not make out what struck her as odd.

She walked another several miles before she began to realize. "These hills are too regular," she declared. Pausing her expedition, she climbed to the peak of one and paced out the distance to the peak of the hill to the east. 542. She paced out a second distance, to the south this time. 540.

"Either crafted….. But that would be a great feat… or else Aurian geometry. But for there to be a vertex this close…". She paced idly as she thought out loud. This task would take more than vacant thought. She sat down, opened her pack, and carefully pulled out a prized sheet of parchment. The oracles would be most upset to know she had taken it, but one never knew when precise calculation was needed.

She did not remember the formulas that would govern the twisted geometry of these hills, but she understood the principles. It all had to do with how key ley lines emanated from a contour point and the mappings between the Two Worlds, and that was simple enough. From there she could derive what she needed.

She silently took notes as she recalled all that was needed. She wrote with a slow, steady hand, careful not to waste any of her paper with blotches or errors. When the sun began to set, she was still writing, and then she dried the ink and placed the paper back in its protective case.

There was still light, but not enough to write, and there was no point walking anywhere until she untangled the valid paths. She drew up her knees and began to pray. She was sworn to the goddess Nayru, but she had not been feeling very wise of late. She prayed instead to Din. She would need power, more than anything, in the coming days. Nayru would understand.

She finished her calculation the next day. Her only reaction was a brief smile. Then she turned the paper over and sketched out what must be the true map. She knew for certain that it was true and that Link would have found the center of it. That was just how the math worked.

With renewed purpose, she resumed her trek. She made better time now she was certain of her destination.

She soon broke through an open spot in the woods to see a hole blasted into the side of a small hill. A handful of dead Moblins littered the area, and the smell of decay was fresh. Link would surely be somewhere inside.

She sighed. She had come this far, she may as well finish. There was a tightness inside, a sense of trepidation, but not the fear of an empty night, nor the terror that had been her life when Hyrule fell. She readied her bow, steeled herself, and entered.

A/N: If y'all could do me a favor and just pretend I'd introduced Kara more properly in an earlier chapter, that would be great.