Chapter 7: The Stalker
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Thank you to everyone who has favorited the story and left comments! Life is chewing me up a lot right now; I'm sorry I haven't responded. Please know that I read every word; it's so fun to see what you're thinking so far, and I greatly appreciate your words of support!
All the best!
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Link's senses came back to him in bits of pieces, small flashes of information at a time. The sticky iron scent of blood strong in his nose. Dim pulses of pain, particularly in his shoulders and thighs. He couldn't feel his hands and feet at all. A scratchy, dry weight in his mouth – a gag. Rough wood against his cheek, arms, and chest – his gambeson was gone.
He could hear the grinding rumble of cart wheels trundling over dirt. The heavy breathing and plodding footsteps of an ox – a whiff of musky livestock smell. More footsteps – at least ten men walking.
He opened his eyes and winced at bright sunlight overhead stabbing into his eyes, making him instantly aware of a throbbing headache. He squinted, letting his eyes adjust, then slowly tried to widen them. The pain seemed to be centered around his left eye, which couldn't open all the way, he noted.
The worn wooden boards of a cart rattled along around him. He struggled to push himself into a sitting position, only to realize at once that his wrists and ankles were securely bound together – he'd been hog-tied. Growling at the humiliating position, he strained against the ropes, trying to see if he could force them to loosen –
A hand came down on his shoulder and he froze, unable to see who it was behind him. But it was Frokar's voice that greeted him. "Settle down," the shaman said quietly. "We've been captured by th'Sheikah. Y'make it too much f'a hardship t'keep y'alive, and they'll be only too happy t'kill you."
Link tried to look over his shoulder, relieved and yet dismayed by the sound of the familiar voice. He could just barely make out the badger's nose on Frokar's headdress.
"Save your strength, lad," Frokar muttered wearily. "We bide our time, save our strength, watch for our moment. I don't know what their purpose is, but y'must make it out f'here."
Link lowered his head back down to the bottom of the cart, worn out already from keeping his head up. What strength? he thought bitterly, and a sharp pain stabbed through his stomach at the thought – it had given up on grumbling at him and instead made its hunger known through cramps. His last meal had been before the Skeldrite, two days prior. And even with the sun shining overhead, he was cold; there was a chill deep in his veins, from the lost blood he had yet to fully replenish.
He sensed Frokar bending close over him more than he saw it. "Th'Guardian Wolf himself has taken an interest in your survival," he murmured.
Surprise sent a shock jolting through Link's veins and he fought again to sit up, or at least turn over to see the shaman's face. He saw Twilight?
"Calm down!" Frokar hissed. "Soon's we get th'chance, I want t'hear a full explanation. But he helped me save your life, so I intend t'keep y'alive f'I can. And that means y'need t'rest, not make trouble –"
Link growled again, straining futilely against his bonds, anger twisting his face into a scowl around the cloth stuffed into and tied around his mouth. Not make trouble? For th'Sheikah? At once the cart slowed to a stop and the Sheikah voices grew louder; Link clenched his hands into a fist as the back of the cart was pulled down and a triumphant-looking Sheikah man looked in on him. He felt again the unbearable sensation of utter helplessness that had gripped him when he woke up as a wolf and he yanked at his bonds, heedless of the rope scraping his skin. Frokar's hand tightened on his shoulder.
"You look like a cornered beast, trapped before me," the Sheikah smirked, his voice revealing that he was one of the spies from last night. "But of course, that is exactly what you are. I have no doubt you would kill me if I gave you even an inch of freedom."
Lerkin right, Link thought furiously, pulling once more at his bound wrists and ankles despite Frokar's vice grip on his shoulder, only to flinch and cry out at a sudden sharp crack and a line of stinging pain erupting across his back and shoulders. He tensed, screwing his eyes shut against the pain. The Sheikah was glaring at him when he eased his watering eyes open moments later. He wasn't holding a whip, so Link assumed it had been the ox driver, likely sitting above him at the front of the cart, who had struck him.
"You act like a beast, so I shall treat you like one," the Sheikah sneered. "Be warned that we only need one of you, and your companion has shown a much more reasonable temperament –"
"See how long that lasts f'y'kill him," Frokar shot back threateningly.
The Sheikah snorted. "Do not test me," he growled, before climbing up into the wagon and bending over Link's body, gripping his jaw in an iron-tight grip and forcing him to look up. Link felt his breath coming faster despite his attempts to keep it controlled; he was helpless, he was – he was afraid –
"The old man cares for you, scum," the Sheikah hissed, spittle dripping onto Link's bruised cheek. "Act out anymore, and he will be the one to feel the whip. Understood?"
Link glared vehemently, wishing the man a death by hanging with his corpse left out to be slowly devoured by scavengers. But he nodded slowly, grinding his teeth in fury. He remained tense as the man straightened and hopped down from the back of the cart; he didn't ease the tension in his muscles until the cart was moving again, footsteps plodding steadily along.
"They think you're a shaman," Frokar whispered. "That's what I've gathered, t'least. They're interested in th'power we hold over their guardians."
Link swallowed with difficulty. That was… some relief then, he thought grimly. No matter what torture they inflicted on him, he wasn't even capable of betraying a shaman's powers.
A chill went through him. He went limp in the back of the cart, breathing shallowly. Torture. That was not something he'd ever thought he would have to face. Dragons, give me strength, he prayed, feeling suddenly nauseous.
"Calm down, lad," Frokar sighed. "Panic does no good, and plenty f'harm. S'a dire strait, yes, but… I will not let y'die. I've a few tricks up my sleeve yet." There was a hint of a laugh in his voice, but Link felt his spirits only sink lower.
Y'd give them what they want and display your power, just t'save my life? Just because y'saw Twilight?
I am the Guardian Wolf, and you are my heir, Twilight interjected unhelpfully. You ought to take his advice and keep yourself alive.
Link bit back a growl of frustration. Because that's even an option still, he thought glumly. He closed his eyes and tried to shut it all out, tried to fill his mind with thoughts of comfort and warmth instead. Memories of Groose and Azrun and Beira… summers spent high in the mountains, watching the sheep, staying up late into the night watching the stars pass over head as they swapped stories… Groose had done such an excellent job, inventing the matchlock… how many lives had he saved…
Link's gun was gone now. And his gambeson, for whatever reason. It had a tough exterior, thanks to the lynel leather; maybe the Sheikah had found it too difficult to bind him with it on?
Beira would be worried sick, he thought guiltily. He'd been missing in action for too long, especially considering he'd promised the great bear that he wouldn't be gone long, that she would join his next battle…
He hoped Gotvin – the one member of his team that she seemed to approve of – would comfort her. Comfort wasn't necessarily something that came easy to the hulking warrior of the Boar Tribe, but… he would be the only one capable of getting close to Beira now…
And the other members of his team – they'd already lost two of their number, one of them Azberth's brother. Now they've lost a third – and I was their leader. He exhaled heavily, keeping his eyes tightly closed. I should've been back by now. Eased their worry – f'they cared enough t'worry, I suppose.
He was utterly exhausted, in mind and body, from his endeavors of the past days. His thoughts chased each other around, lighthearted memories turning to ash and blood, attempts to cheer himself up morphing into grief and pain, anger at the Sheikah and at himself. At last he drifted off to a restless, uncomfortable sleep, his mind shutting itself down, unable to handle more.
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He jolted awake when the rickety cart stopped moving and the rumbling of wheels over gravel fell silent. The angle of the sun had changed; it hung lower in the sky, casting the orange glow of evening over the trees above his head. He heard the Sheikah speaking to one another in their language, the one that had taunted him using a loud, strident voice that revealed he was giving orders. So he's their captain.
Worn timbers groaned as someone pulled the back of the cart down, and two Sheikah climbed into the back. Link tensed as they drew near and then arched his back with a muffled cry of pain as they each grabbed a shoulder; the sudden pressure on the goring in his upper arm was excruciating, and it was all he could do to cling to his consciousness as they dragged him to the back of the cart and dumped him unceremoniously to the ground. He grunted at the impact, gritting his teeth as pain reawakened across what felt like every inch of his skin.
Frokar climbed down a moment later, his feet bare. Link felt relieved that the old man hadn't been as brutally treated as he was, but confused about the lack of boots for a moment.
Although… that might be why they took my gambeson, too. They want t'discourage us from escaping. Without boots, without protection… a pathetic Sheikah would certainly be deterred by that. But any Zonai was well-accustomed to extreme conditions in the wilderness. F'we get th'chance t'escape, we'll figure something out.
He grunted again as one of the Sheikah dragged him up to his knees by an arm and held him upright as the Sheikah captain approached. The man smirked as his gaze landed on Link, but it didn't linger, and he turned to Frokar. "You have the night to rest," he said. "In the morning, you will see why we have taken you."
"F'it's t'be rest, surely you'll loosen my companion's bonds," Frokar said in a threatening growl.
The captain scowled. "If I was not certain that he would attempt to kill his guards the instant I displayed any lenience, then I would consider it," he sneered. "His own actions have earned him any discomfort he feels."
"You're afraid f'him, then," Frokar countered smugly. "Even bound and injured, you're afraid f'a true-blooded warrior f'th'Zonai."
Link flinched as the captain slapped Frokar across the cheek, but the old man's sharp gray eyes held the steely glint of triumph.
The captain gestured to Link. "We are not afraid," he spat, then said something in the Sheikah tongue. The two Sheikah behind Link seemed to hesitate, responding with confusion and hesitance in their voices, and the captain repeated his orders, making a vigorous slashing motion with his hands. Link waited, tense, hating the new form of helplessness brought on by not understanding what the enemy was saying –
And then he heard the sound of fibers snapping as one of the Sheikah behind him began sawing through his bonds. His heart jumped and he waited, holding his breath, for them to finish –
The last thread snapped, and Link jumped to his feet, lunging for the captain's throat, only to find his legs crumpling beneath him, numbed from hours of inactivity even as razor-sharp needles of pain stabbed into his feet and hands as blood flowed freely into them after so long. The captain laughed, and at once the Sheikah behind him grabbed his shoulders and pulled him upright, all but dragging him through the small tent-filled clearing they had stopped in as he struggled to get his feet back under him and work feeling into his prickling hands. One Sheikah said something to the other and they sniggered; furious, Link tried to pull away from them, and his legs once more betrayed him.
They stopped at a pine tree on the edge of the clearing, and three more Sheikah joined them. Four held Link still, gripping his arms and shoulders, as the fifth looped rope around his ankles, then bound his wrists behind his back, and at last fastened the rope around the tree's trunk, leaving him capable only of small movements – hobbled like a horse. The man unbound the gag from his mouth and then the others let go; at once he stumbled forward, leaning against the tree for support as his hands and feet continued to tingle painfully with the renewed rush of fresh blood flow. Hang y'all, he thought bitterly, glaring as another group of Sheikah escorted Frokar to a pine adjacent to Link's and bound him in a similar fashion, although they left his hands in front of him instead of behind. When they were finished, Frokar sat down, cross-legged, at the base of the tree.
Five Sheikah were left behind, forming a loose perimeter around the two trees, and the others went to tend to the ox and unhitch the cart. Link scowled at the ox – with his luck, it was probably the very same one that had gored his shoulder. It certainly looked ornery enough.
"Sit down," Frokar said gently. Link glanced down at him and hesitated, entirely fed up with being trapped in subservient positions around Sheikah soldiers. But at the shaman's insistent look, he obeyed, wobbling slightly as he struggled to adjust to what little balance the thin length of rope between his ankles allowed him. Frokar studied him intently, brow furrowed. "How're y'feeling, lad?"
Link rolled his eyes. He was starving, he was dehydrated, he was beaten black and blue all over, with cracked ribs and two rather serious injuries – one from a guardian, one from an ox – sapping his strength each hour they continued without treatment. It was the worst he'd ever felt, he was certain about that, made infinitely worse by the power the Sheikah held over him in this situation. "Been better," he grunted, his voice rasping and creaking like rusted metal from disuse.
Frokar glanced at the Sheikah around them and leaned closer, testing the limits of the rope binding him. "We've much t'discuss," he said quietly. "S'best s'I've figured out, only a few f'them speak our language – elite warriors, leaders… not common footsoldiers." He gestured with a jerk of his chin to their guards. "So we should be safe enough."
Link scowled. "What's there t'talk about?" he muttered.
"Th'circumstances f'your miraculous survival," Frokar countered patiently, lowering his voice further. "That's why they think you're a shaman – your fatal wound continued t'heal even after my spell was disrupted. They took your armor away t'better study th'area, match th'crossbow bolt t'th'size and shape f'th'wound… In their eyes, y'used th'same magic I did, without even being conscious for it. So y'must be able t'cast th'other spells a shaman can. Specifically, th'spell that disables their guardians."
Link frowned, trying to ignore the way his chest seemed to ache with dull phantom pains at the old man's words. So that's why I don't have my gambeson – it's not a deterrent t'escape after all. "You think they mean t'test us against guardians?" he asked quietly. "And – and study what happens?"
Frokar nodded gravely. "Which's why y'must rest tonight," he murmured. "Y'can't cast th'spell that would save your life should y'find yourself trapped."
Link narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'd rather die than betray our magic t'these lerkin deadiggers," he spat.
"Don't say that," Frokar winced. "Y'must survive this, Link. Th'Guardian Wolf has advocated for your life – it was he who completed th'spell that healed your fatal wound."
"How d'y'even know that?" Link countered, trying to disguise his wariness as skepticism. "Maybe your spell was just more… powerful?"
"I'm inclined t'doubt it," Frokar chuckled. "My spell couldn't've created a likeness f'th'Guardian. I saw the Wolf approach you – my senses have been honed t'detect th'spiritual in ways that neither you, nor th'Sheikah, can fully comprehend. In fact, it was an incredible display f'spiritual power that drew me t'th'riverbank in th'first place."
Link stopped breathing, feeling as though an ice-covered rock had dropped into his stomach.
A display f'spiritual power… that drew Frokar t'th'river…
My transformation from a wolf. It has t'be.
He dropped his head into his hands, gripping his hair tightly between his fingers. By th'Dragons… this's all my fault. All f'it. Frokar never would've been captured f'I hadn't… if I'd transformed further away from th'river, instead f'so close t'camp.
And now Colonel Nerthin's forces have lost their best defense against guardians – s'all because f'me.
"Hmm," Frokar hummed thoughtfully, almost as if he could sense Link's thoughts. Link felt as though his insides were shriveling with shame at the mere idea. But the shaman continued, "I'd best start from th'beginning. Yesterday morning, we received a small group f'reinforcements. Wolf warriors. Said they'd come from Skohrych. They all wore th'blue paint f'th'Owl Tribe, indicating a recent Skeldrite, but… the marks did not gleam with th'power f'spirits' protection. I planned t'confront them about it, since it showed they'd performed th'Skeldrite unworthily. But I had other duties that took priority – finding a safe place t'release th'spirit flame from th'Grafensted y'dedicated, which can sometimes – and did, in this case – take most f'th'day. And… I was grieving, fearing you'd been slain."
Link winced, fighting against the urge to curl inwards around the guilt nibbling fiercely at his gut.
"I felt a great release f'spiritual energies shortly after night fell," Frokar went on. "And upon investigating… well, y'know th'rest." He sighed heavily. "Th'newcomers supposedly from Skohrych were, f'course, Sheikah spies, using their unholy shadow magic t'cast an illusion over their appearances. As we know now, they were after a shaman. I went off on my own, and they saw their chance."
"Frokar, I… I'm sorry," Link said at once, barely managing to raise his voice above a whisper – and it wasn't because of the dryness in his throat this time.
"I don't hold this against you," the old shaman said sternly. "Though perhaps I should. Regardless, I feel y'owe me an explanation. Where were y'yesterday?" He leaned forward, keen eyes narrowed. "How exactly did y'finish your mission, all on your own?"
Link raised his head, hesitantly meeting Frokar's gaze. He swallowed – not that it did much for his parched, aching throat. "I… never made it t'th'Sheikah village that first night," he admitted quietly. "After th'Skeldrite. I was… waylaid, by th'Guardian Wolf." In as few words as he could manage, he explained about his initial transformation, his first meeting with Twilight, and the day he spent as a wolf. He didn't break eye contact as he spoke, aware that his claims were outlandish at best and hoping to convey his sincerity.
When he fell silent, Frokar didn't speak for several moments, merely nodding slowly, his expression distant and grim.
"I don't know what th'Sheikah will put us through tomorrow," he said at last. "But y'must try t'escape, any chance y'get."
"Why not 'we?'" Link protested. When Frokar didn't answer, he pressed, "I'm th'reason you're here in th'first place – I'm not going t'just leave y'behind t'save my own skin, especially after y'saved my life!"
"Then I'll pray y'change your mind," Frokar retorted coldly. "I would ask for your promise, t'use your wolf form t'escape as soon as y'see an opportunity."
"No," Link insisted. "F'I leave, it'll be with you, or not at all."
The elder glared at him. He opened his mouth to fire a retort, but a smoked fish landing in the grass between them cut him off. Link's stomach growled instantly and desperately but he fought off the urge to lunge for the food, instead glaring up at the Sheikah soldier that had thrown them. The boy said something mockingly in the Sheikah tongue and watched the two prisoners with a smirk and folded arms. Link's lip curled. They expect us t'fight over it.
He leaned back against the tree, focusing on the discomfort of rough bark across his skin, especially the welt from the ox-driver's whip, instead of the famished gnawing pains of his stomach. At length the Sheikah soldier lost interest and walked away with a dismissive scoff, leaving the fish in the grass.
Too far away for Link to reach, with his hands behind his back. He ground his teeth together in desperate frustration, closing his eyes tightly against the ongoing misery.
Frokar leaned forward as much as he could and managed to grab the fish in his hands and break it into halves. He tossed one closer to Link and began carefully eating the other himself. Link lowered himself to his stomach, grabbed the fish in his teeth, then wriggled back into a sitting position and pulled his knees close to his chest. He pinned the fish in place between his knees and eagerly began to tear off the skin to get to the meat beneath.
"Not too fast," Frokar warned. "They've yet t'give us water."
Link barely heard – he was ravenous. Nothing mattered but getting as much meat from the fish as he could.
Frokar sighed, but his voice held a chuckle. "T'least be careful f'th'bones."
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The Sheikah left a pail of water between them some time later, but for the rest of the uncomfortable, restless night, they were largely left alone. Link's dreams were strange and disquieting – familiar figures such as boars suddenly turning into demons, forests sent up in flames, screams of the dying harrowing his ears. When dawn came at last, he felt worse than he had before – cold and sick, with the beginnings of nausea swirling in his stomach. A quick glance at his left arm showed the darkened center and red-tinged edges of the skin around the goring he'd received as a wolf; it had gotten infected.
Sure, Frokar. I'm th'one with a chance f'surviving this, he thought bitterly, his aching, foggy mind aware of how bad an infection was for him out here.
Frokar was still sleeping when he first woke up. A small group of Sheikah closed in not long afterwards, led by their captain. Link went stiff, glaring as they encircled him, feeling as if they were dark shadows closing in on him despite the vague, colorless morning gray painted over everything in the valley. At a word from the captain, the Sheikah moved forward and grabbed his shoulders to haul him to his feet, and again the pressure on his shoulder wound drew a pained shout from his mouth that was quickly silenced by the captain's hand on his throat, crushing him against the tree at his back while the other Sheikah cut through his bonds.
"Not a sound," the captain snarled, releasing him with a warning look.
Link sneered bitterly at the man. "Frokar!" he growled at once, his voice rough and hoarse and his throat aching. F'it throws a hoof in their plans… "Frokar!"
At once the Sheikah captain slammed a fist into his abdomen, forcing the breath from his lungs and sending him slumping against his captors' hold, wheezing.
"Not a sound," the captain repeated icily, turning and walking away. The soldiers followed, all but dragging Link along with them as he fought to catch his breath. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw with some triumph that Frokar was blinking awake. So whatever they wanted him asleep for… well, he's got some warning, t'least.
They emerged into the meadow – which, Link noted grimly, had been cleared of the soldiers' tents from the night before.
In fact, there were suspiciously few soldiers out and about. Only the group of five escorting him and the captain. Link scanned the tree line –
Ah. There they were, forming what seemed to be a wide perimeter around the meadow. A chill grated down his spine – Why would they clear th'area? Doesn't make any sense; what're they planning?
And then he saw a stake that had been hammered into the center of the little field, and his heart froze. His guards were leading him directly towards it. He started to fight, digging his heels into the ground and yanking his wrists, each one gripped by a Sheikah shoulder, from side to side, trying to pull free, and one of the men clubbed him over the head with a gauntleted fist, disorienting him just long enough for them to shove him to the ground, pin him down with their knees between his shoulder blades, and bind his wrists to the stake before standing up and backing away. Link scrambled to his knees, his heart racing faster as his fears were confirmed.
They're not torturing me – this's a sacrifice f'sorts!
The Zonai used a similar strategy if an elusive predator was coming after their flocks. They would choose a sickly calf or lamb, bind it to a stake in an open area, then wait in nearby trees to ambush the beast when it came. Link had been on such a hunt – once. It had been one of his own lambs that had been sacrificed; he remembered feeling disheartened, disappointed in himself that he hadn't been able to nurse the lamb into good enough health that its long-term survival couldn't be so easily questioned.
The captain and his entourage had returned to where Frokar was bound. They had released him from his tree, brought him to the edge of the field. His shoulders were gripped tightly by two Sheikah, and the captain was speaking to him in a low voice. Link strained his ears, his heart pounding violently – By th'Draogns – they're going t'make him watch!
He couldn't make out what was being said. Instead he turned his attention to the stake – to the ground around it, in particular. He rocked it back and forth where it was embedded and then clawed at the loosened soil around it with his bare hands, not sure what he would do once he was free but feeling an innate, desperate desire to have free range of motion. The soil was dense and heavy, but not particularly firmly packed; he was making progress, pushing away little piles of dirt from the base of the stake around stiff stalks of prairie grasses and little shrubs –
A strange skittering sound, like pebbles rolling over each other, had him whirling around to find a segmented leg poking out from the trees. Link leapt to his feet in shock, instantly falling harshly down to his behind on the ground, the stake budging just a bit.
The segmented leg was followed by another, then another, and a massive guardian – easily four times the height of those that Link was used to – emerged from the shadows, humming with otherworldly energy with its pulsating blue eye roaming from side to side. Its gaze fell on Link, and a red beam shot from its eye –
He flinched, but no pain came. There was only a high-pitched beeping sound, gradually increasing in intensity, and a red circle of light painted on Link's torso. Link's heart jumped to his throat; his breaths came in short gasps. He didn't know what this new guardian was going to do, but he was certain that the beeping could mean nothing good. He got to his feet, more carefully this time, and pulled backwards on the stake he was bound to with all of his strength, leaning away and letting all of his weight hang on the ropes. The guardian's beeping quickened, faster and faster, matching the rate of Link's heart; he glanced in its direction and felt his blood turn instantly to ice, seeing spiraling flares of white-blue light coalescing around the guardian's eye.
A flash of blinding light. A bright blue beam streaking towards him. And the stake gave way at last, sending him tumbling to his back as the beam shot above him and collided with the ground several yards away, sending tremors through the earth as flames shot up instantly from the collision site. Link leapt to his feet, adrenaline shooting desperately through his blood as he stared at the new guardian in horror. Sheikah were shouting in the background; he thought he heard Frokar's voice –
And the guardian sent out its red light once again, strident beeping cutting through the morning air.
In th'open, I'm dead. The thought ricocheted through his skull and he took off for the trees, deciding that he would much rather deal with whatever the Sheikah in the trees had in store for him than stand as bait in the meadow. He sucked cold morning air deep into his lungs and ignored the chill ache it sent through him. Snatching up the stake dangling from his bound wrists and gripping it in both hands he charged the line of Sheikah as the beeping from behind suddenly intensified; the men scattered and he dove for the one nearest to him with the stake gripped like a dagger. They both fell as the guardian blast seared the air overhead and set the trunk of a nearby tree on fire. Link swallowed shakily and moved to stand, yanking the stake bound to his wrists from the Sheikah soldier's throat.
He slid behind a tree and peered over his shoulder at the guardian. The trees were spaced out enough that, he noticed with another spike of panicked adrenaline, the guardian could walk between them with ease. Its dome-shaped "head" moved with a deep grinding sound from side to side, plasmatic eye whirling madly as it hunted. Link licked his dry lips, ducking back into the shelter of his chosen tree.
Too late – he heard the beeping start up, then stop, then heard the skittering footsteps draw near as the guardian closed in on him. He broke into a run again and the guardian locked on at once. He ran and limped and stumbled his way over tree roots, rocks, old leaves, and short, poky grass, pushing past low branches, every instinct screaming at him to get away, get away, get away and pushing him to ignore the quickly-growing pain in his bare feet.
The beeping grew quicker, higher pitched, signifying an oncoming blast; Link threw himself to the right and into a bush and the laser beam punched through the air where he'd been standing, slamming directly into the trunk of a fir. To Link's horror, with a creaking and splintering of timbers, the tree careened sideways and crashed to the ground, little flames dancing up all around it. By th'Dragons! Th'sheer power –
The guardian would kill him instantly if it caught him, he realized with a shudder. He dragged himself from the bush where he'd thrown himself, grimacing at the small scratches branches and thorns dragged across his body. He lunged over an old deadfall and hunkered down underneath it as the guardian skittered nearer, immediately questioning his decision to hide as he saw it pause for a moment, domed head turning wildly, before marching in his direction. It lifted a three-clawed foot and set it down on top of the fallen log before pushing it forward. Link's heart lurched and he scrambled back to his feet even as it revealed his hiding place, and the vile beeping shattered the air once more. Link sprinted away, shaking from fatigue and from fear, only to find his foot rolling on something soft and he collapsed to his stomach with a breathless grunt. He had just enough time to glance behind him and see what had caused his fall before the guardian was on him again, and he crawled to his feet and broke into yet another frantic sprint.
A dead Sheikah – but it can't be th'same one I just killed –
A guardian blast from behind. Link felt the searing heat on his heels as the ground erupted beneath him, sending him careening him through the air with a startled cry, blurs of gray and green and guardian blue whirling through his vision until he struck the ground, hard, pain shooting through the entire right side of his body. His mind spun, his senses muddled and confusing – the scent of smoke and musty damp earth, decaying leaves. Pulses of pain across his body, in time to the frantic beating of his heart. A strange, skittering, stony sound –
A sudden crushing pressure on his chest and stabbing pain in his back, driving him into the leaf-strewn ground, squeezing the breath from his lungs. The telltale beeping, louder than ever – directly above him.
Lerkin thing… standing on top f'me…
He couldn't breathe. His jaws gaped desperately as he dug the stake into the soft earth and gripped it tightly in both hands, trying almost mindlessly to pull himself free. The beeping intensified… his vision began to darken…
Gunshot. So close it had his ears ringing.
At once the pressure was gone and he sucked in an aching, frantic breath of air as firm hands gripped his forearms and dragged him away from the guardian.
"Can y'stand?" came Gotvin's gruff voice, so out of place here that Link was certain he was hallucinating. But as his bleary vision cleared he could see the burly warrior of the Boar tribe at his side, and all of a sudden he was back at the combat ring on a day of Din ages ago, staggering to his feet after getting beaten down for the umpteenth time, blood dripping down his face from a broken nose. Gotvin had looked at him, a fallen opponent, with respect then. Just as he was now.
"Snap out f'it!" Gotvin exclaimed, gripping him by both shoulders and giving him a shake before sawing rapidly through the ropes binding him to the dangling stake. "Frokar's bought us some time, but we need t'run now!"
In the back of his mind Link registered that the guardian was beeping again, and the resulting jolt of terror-fueled adrenaline was enough to send him lurching to his feet. And in the next moment he heard a familiar guttural roar and, looking over his shoulder, saw a massive brown blur slam into the guardian's head with enough force to knock it onto its side. Link's eyes widened. "B-Beira?" he mumbled around split lips.
The great grizzly bounded towards him and Link couldn't even react as Gotvin slung him over the bear's shoulders and told him to hold on as they started to run.
Th'guardian… its legs aren't moving… did Beira do that?
He used the last of his strength to wind his fingers around her thick fur and hold on as tightly as he could, her bounding rocking gait only worsening the ache in his head. Soon that pain and the distinct sensation of moving was all he was aware of, and then there was nothing.
