Chapter 20
Tessa watched as the archers scrambled up the side of the two adjacent hills, clutching to their bows. Peering into the darkness, she saw them lay flat on their stomachs until each hill was blanketed from top to bottom with armour clad warriors. She swallowed, her eyes large, unable to take her sight off of the Allied army preparing for battle. Sucking on her teeth, she saw shoulders pull creaky, wooden carts filled with Goron explosives, their muscles straining against the weight. Other soldiers stood watch, the flames atop their torches hissing and popping.
The farm girl resisted the urge to whimper softly. She had never seen the like of this before in her life and the depressing certainty of what was to happen as soon as the sun rose made her tremble. Tessa had tried to sleep, but after much fitful tossing and turning accompanied by shallow dreams of a grinning blood-soaked Link, she had give up. Getting permission from her Papa, she had made her way to the edge of the valley, close enough to see the groundwork for war, but far enough away not to be noticed. On her back she carried a large travel pack, Chitz the Imp hiding within.
"Haha…what's happening? Where are we?" the Imp asked.
"Sshh," she said quietly. "You know where we are."
"Where? Where? Haha…you both told me nothing!" She heard the sulky tone in his voice. Her heart pitied him. They had had to hide him away and he not had a chance to breath fresh air in days. "Just said we were in foreign lands."
"We're in Freelander country, Chitz."
Tessa almost toppled over as Chitz lurched against the tight fabric of the travel pack.
"Haha…what? What? A country full of Freelanders? Couldn't you have taken me to the Pit itself? At least the Demons there are friendly…haha!"
"Quiet, Chitz," she hissed, her eyes searching around for any hint that their commotion had been noticed. Nothing. People were far too busy this night.
She made her way back to the camp to find her Papa, stepping over sleeping maids and dodging dying fires that still carried the aroma of cooked food. Chitz whined quietly from her back.
"Waa…waa…haha. Oh, woe is me! Give me a chance to flee! Freelanders as far as the eye can see!" His voice turned wistful, as if he was reading from a list. "Let me bite them on the knee. Knock them on the head with a heavy tree. Fry their eyeballs and serve them for tea."
"Chitz!"
"What? What? Haha…what are we doing here anyway?" He sniffed.
"We're here to help Link, remember?" she whispered. The Hero's predicament had troubled her, keeping her up at nights. She could not understand why he was spending so much time with the King. Had he been recruited into the army? It was all so confusing and her Papa avoided answering any of her questions. "Besides Hyrule is at war with the Freelanders now."
"Ohhh…haha," Chitz said, sniffing as he paused. "About time too, I say. Haha…should've wiped them out summers ago."
"That's not funny." Something in the tone of her voice must have darkened his mood as the Imp offered no response. Feeling sorry for him again, she asked, "Is there anything you need, Chitz?"
There was a pause and Tessa thought that Chitz might have been really angry with her this time. She spied their campsite and walked on trying to ignore the grunts and the clash of steel as the soldiers trained.
"Actually there is," Chitz said finally.
"What is it?" Her voice was soft, not wishing to hurt his feelings again.
"A one-way ride back to Hyrule! Haha! Pronto!"
She smiled despite herself and saw Fran rise as they approached, his face haggard, dark rings lining his eyes. He had set up two tents for them. One was for her own privacy, the other for himself and the Imp. Her heart tugged between love and pain; love for her father's care for her and pain that she could not relieve his worries. They hugged and Tessa breathed in the spicy smell of freshly cut trees that she had always associated with her Papa. Her eyes closed as the embrace lingered on.
"See anything interesting?" he asked, finally releasing her.
"It's so frightening, Papa," she said, unclasping the travel pack and gently letting Chitz slide to the ground. Fran had set their camp a little way from the others so that the Imp could speak freely without being overheard. Imps were not popular most of the time and they certainly would not be tolerated on a battlefield. "They have explosives and there are archers hidden on the hills."
Fran looked towards the dark, hulking shape of Narik's Rock, his face an expressionless mask. "They're going to pin the Freelanders down," he whispered. His voice was heavy with grief as if someone dear to him had died. "Then blow them up."
Chitz opened his mouth to speak, but her Papa shot him down with a stern look. "Don't even think it, Chitz."
"Spoilsports," muttered the Imp.
Fran looked at her, his eyes stricken with pain and hurt. The look on his face brought tears to her eyes. It was not fair that he suffered so. Her Papa had raised her almost single-handedly, not even having the time to properly mourn his beloved wife.
"I should never have brought you here," he said quietly, his voice choking. "In the morning there will be death. Not many will survive to see the sun set."
Tessa reached out for him, bitter, salty tears flowing freely down her cheeks now. He clutched her hand and held it fiercely against his face.
"We came for Link, Papa," she said. "Let's just take him and go!"
She knew it was silly, but did not know what else to say. Fran chuckled at her words, before looking over to the King's tent towards the rear of the army. Tessa followed his gaze. She saw the dark outline of the Hero, crouched in front of a flickering fire, the King and his Advisor sitting beside him as they spoke in hushed whispers. Occasionally, Link would beckon towards the Rock or to one of the hills and the King would nod in response.
"I don't think we can do that," Fran said sadly.
"Then what can we do?" She was annoyed. This trip had been a waste. Sadness hugged her heart. It had seemed so simple to her before. Link would surely join them and they could return back to Lon Lon. Perhaps he could stay a while, dance at another festival. So stupid. Her handsome Hero had changed and she did not know how or why. Worse, she felt helpless trying to think of a way to change him back.
Fran's gaze wandered back towards the Rock. She watched him, saw the different emotions dance on his face.
"We need to leave," he said.
"Join up with the Freelanders?" she asked.
"No," he answered, his voice hard. "We cannot head south now. The King has too many garrisons stationed. We go north, past the Rock and into the mountains. Hopefully, we can find safe passage there."
She swallowed, realising that it would be a while before she would see home again. If she ever would. "I am ready, Papa."
Tears flowed as Fran swallowed her in his arms again. "Oh, my poor, sweet little daughter," he cried. "I am so sorry for this. So very sorry. If your mother was alive, she would have beat me senseless for dragging you into this."
Tessa chuckled at the image of her small, kindly mother striking her Papa. "What about Link, Papa?"
Fran sighed. "He'll have to take care of himself. We have to find the Queen and tell her what's happened."
*
Zelda watched the darkness crack as the early red streaks of dawn approached. The air was chill with anticipation. She had not slept, her heart fluttering with anxiety. She wasn't tired though and thought that probably most of them had not taken any rest either. Her boots tapped on the raised wooden platform placed at the edge of the Rock as some sort of command post. The planks trembled slightly under her steps as she watched the Freelander soldiers line themselves into ranks. Their expressions stoic and their purple eyes clear, the warriors waited, armed with swords, shields and spears. Some, like Ren and the Chizan's father, sat astride horses, their hooves scuffing at the dirt impatiently. The Queen's heart was tight as her gaze drifted over the army. She knew that many, if not most, would not see out this day. She wondered if she would be one of them.
Her thoughts floated once again to Link. Not that strange that she should think of him now. In all the minor battles that she had taken part in during her life, the Hero had been there at her side, an extra shield that gave her the added confidence to fight on. This would be the first without him and he wondered where he was now. Link had gone to the castle to search for Zayna. Yet of course, his apprentice would not be there. Had he turned away, confused? Headed towards the Morolak Kingdoms to try and catch up with her? Or had Cyle caught him? The last thought brought a sour pull to her heart, something she did not need right now.
She peered out at the flickering lights of their enemies. Cyle was there somewhere amongst them, ready to kill her in an instant. Could she do the same to him? She turned inwards, trying to find answer, but only found a wall of uncertainty.
She heard the metallic clank of boots on wood and turned to see Prince Chizan striding towards her wearing the same chain mail armour that she – and all the others – now donned.
"Will it be enough?" she asked. Placing doubt in her allies was not something that was wise, but it was clear that they were severely outnumbered.
The Prince did not reply. Instead he crouched, scooping up some sand in his hand. He let it run through his fingers, rubbing with his thumb. Finally, he blew on it gently before lightly touching his forehead. Zelda watched in silence, knowing that something significant was happening, but not quite knowing just what.
"The dust of the Rock is heavy with the sacrifice of our forefathers," he said, standing up once more. "It will protect us. No harm will come this day." He looked at her with a cheerful grin.
The Queen grimaced. She realised the important of having a rallying point, a cause to believe in, but this was pushing it too far. Besides, it sounded far too much like magic.
"Chizan," she said softly, pondering over which words to choose, like a rake over hot coals. "Battles turn in an instant. One minute one side may appear to have the advantage and the next the other will reclaim it. We will win, I do not doubt that." She looked at him, hoping the sincerity would show in her eyes. She did believe they would win, despite all the odds. There was no way pure, unadulterated evil could be allowed to rein free. "But you must be aware that it may not all be smooth sailing."
The Prince chuckled, and her mouth turned in dismay. "This is Narik's Rock, Your Highness. Here is where miracles happen."
She sighed and spied Zayna out of the corner of her eye. Link's apprentice sat at the edge of the platform, gazing up at the fading stars as her legs swung idly. The look on her face was pensive, the corners of her eyes tight with pain.
"I need to go see to her," Zelda said, laying a hand on Chizan's arm. The Prince nodded and she made her way over, sitting down beside her old Advisor. Zayna did not acknowledge her presence.
"It's a beautiful night," the Queen said, looking up at where Zayna's gaze lingered.
"But a terrible morning," Zayna answered, her voice a hushed whisper.
"What is troubling you?" Zelda asked. It was a silly question, considering the circumstances, but she sensed that there was something else behind her friend's misery.
When she did not answer, the Queen continued, "We all worry about this battle, Zayna. It's only natural."
The apprentice turned to her and Zelda recoiled from the look of pure dread in her friend's eyes. She had never seen her look so frightened. There was something else there too, a whisper of revulsion, though the Queen felt that the hatred was not directed at herself.
"I…" She choked on her words. "I…can't…"
"Can't what, Zayna?" Her voice was soft. "Tell me. I'm your friend. Together, we can do this."
Zayna looked up at her. "Together?"
"Yes," Zelda said with a broad smile. "Won't you tell me what's worrying you?"
Her friend shook her head, letting her gaze drop. The Queen sighed. She knew she could not force the issue, but it pained her to be so helpless. Zelda took Zayna's hand in her own and held it. Her former Advisor did not resist, but her face was still tight with worry. The feeling of powerlessness made Zelda feel small and vulnerable again. She shivered. Link. Why did you have to go?
She heard the scuff of boots behind her and turned to see the Prince.
"Come. Both of you," he said. "Dawn is about to break."
Zelda swallowed the fear as she rose. Her hand gripped the hilt of her sword, a film of sweat sticking to her palm. She saw Zayna tap her belt, her usual nuance whenever she was readying herself for action. This was it. She wondered what her parents would think of her now, preparing to charge into battle against her ex-husband, against her very own people. Her parents were long gone now, and there was a good chance she would be joining them by the time the sunset on this day. Her heart shook. Had she lived a halfway decent life? Had she ever really had a taste of happiness? She had no children to carry on her family's dynasty. If she should fall this day, her entire family line would end. Link. Why didn't you stay with me?
The trio all looked up at the same time, catching each other's thoughtful looks. They nodded, silently acknowledging that they were ready to stand and fall together. Finally, a smile threatened to appear on Zayna's mouth.
"Let's go cut us some Royal tail," she said. Zelda's mouth curled in a smile, but her heart remained troubled.
Link. I'm so sorry for everything.
*
The two armies faced each other in stony silence. For an outsider it would have appeared as though there were two sets of statues planted into the earth. The warriors waited for the first light of the sun to herald the beginning of the end. Cyle watched it all, his breath gone as he tied the last pieces of his armour on.
He rode at the rear of his troops, his horse making him appear taller than his soldiers. His two other guards shadowed somewhere behind him as Link rode beside him. They were all fully armoured already. His generals rode with him too, reluctantly handing over key strategic decisions to the Hero of Time. The King strapped on his helmet, his head feeling tight in its grip. He let his eyes wander, soaking in every little detail. He saw the soldiers twitch in readiness, saw the spearmen idly running a finger up and down their weapons making the paint blister and flake off. Cyle heard the light tinkles of the fidgeting archers, the noise too distant for the Freelanders to notice. A smooth, curved black horn hung at Link's waist. Instinctively, the King's hand dropped to his belt feeling the hard weight of his horn.
Cyle cleared his throat as the darkness of night started to dissolve. "My people," his strong, deep voice carried across the valley, splintering the silence. "Friends of Hyrule." He acknowledged the other nations although no senior representatives of those countries had attended. All the men were under his command.
"You know why you are here. You have wives, sisters, and mothers. You know how precious they are to you." There was a murmur swelling through the men, as they grew anxious for battle. "You know what you would do if any pathetic worm of a 'man' tried to dishonour them." The voices grew in anger. "You would surely tear the culprit limb from limb! Or else how else could you truly call yourself men?" They were snarling now, gripping onto their weapons. "What then do you think of those that would do this to your very own Queen?" Cyle glanced at Link, as the men grew rowdy. The Hero did not respond, keeping his expression and gaze cool.
The thin edge of the sun peeked out from the horizon as Cyle drove his sword towards Narik's Rock. "These are the ones that dared sully your Queen! We demand vengeance! We demand honour!"
"Vengeance! Honour!" The men cried, their voices growing, growing. Some started to beat against the metal plates covering their chests. In the distance, Cyle saw the Freelanders fan out, setting the swords into an attack stance. He smiled inwardly as his soldiers swayed, ready to attack. It was so easy to trick the simple minded. Finally, as the rays of the sun fell on their faces, they charged forward with a snarl.
Vengeance! Honour!
*
The ground rumbled with thunder as the two armies ploughed into one another. The soldiers roared, their battle cry amplified in a thousand-voice hum that reverberated around the valley and echoed off of the rocks. Steel crashed against steel in fiery sparks, limbs entwined, twisted and snapped, rivulets of blood threaded through the dust like spider's webs and claret flew into the air before landing back in fine droplets. The Freelanders' many weapons poked and scraped at the Allied soldiers' shields. In return, Cyle's troops thrust their swords forward, searching for the weak gaps in their enemies' armour.
Prince Chizan reached back, took aim and loosed an arrow, reached back, took aim and loosed an arrow; reached back took aim and loosed an arrow. Rapid fire, no time to think, tears stinging his eyes. His throat was sore and his heart beat with unnatural, frantic quickness. The noise was unholy and the scenes before him like a painting of a madman. He picked off the enemy one by one, his arrows flinging them backwards as they charged. He saw the shadows of young boys in the corner of his vision, darting between fighters, their arms overloaded with clattering bundles of arrows. They searched out those who had exhausted their supply, eager to fill empty quivers. Others fell to their knees in front of the wounded, bringing full water pouches to parched and feverish lips.
A Hylian charged through the front guard, his blade red with sticky blood, and trampling any in his path under his horse's hooves. He did not seem to care a jot for his own safety. The Prince did not know if the battle had driven the man mad already or if he was a foolish, but somewhat courageous fighter. All he knew was that he had to be stopped. Calmly, Chizan cocked an arrow into the wooden groove of his bow, and pulled back the drawstring until it was taut. Making sure of his footing, he tracked the rider, the tip of his arrow searching for a clear shot as the man wildly swung his sword, separating heads from shoulders. He waited, the dull roar of the battle ringing in his ears. Almost. Almost. There.
The arrow whizzed through the air, its metal tip spinning. It plunged through the rider's throat, flinging him off his horse. It was just an instant before the horse was brought down. Chizan barely had time to acknowledge the kill with any sort of satisfaction before he was reaching for an arrow once again.
Out of nowhere, a snarling soldier appeared in front of him, making him take a step backwards. There was no time for words, no time to reflect. The creature before him was stripped of humanity, no light of reason shone in his eyes. An angry, brainless animal. The man swung his sword, snapping through Chizan's bowstring and cracking the arrow in two. The Prince thrust the now useless bow into the man's face, sending a fountain of blood spraying into the air.
He stole a glance at his friends. Zelda and Zayna fought furiously, back to back. Their swords spun and flew, cutting all in their path. A mask of grim determination stuck to the Queen's face, though her eyes were hollow and dull. He was proud to be here, fighting alongside her. Even if there was nothing after this, even if death took one or both of them he at least had this moment. He at least could share this Heroic Deed with a woman who had earned his respect and more. Ren, Tyron and his father drove the soldiers back with spears as they sat perched upon fidgety horses. Chizan cast his gaze ahead and his heart crackled with hope. The Freelanders were pushing slowly forward, inch-by-inch their superior fighting skills outweighed their lack of numbers. They could win this. He dared not think such thoughts at this early stage, but could not contain himself. They could win this! Then again, he had no reason to doubt the outcome in any case. He thought he could almost feel the spiritual energies of his forefathers possess him.
Spurred on by this, Chizan drew his sword, clattering it into the nearest enemy. Their eyes spiked in shock at the intensity of his attack and his breath increased, revelling in the heat of the battle. He swung, plunged, withdrew and swung again. Flecks of other people's blood fell onto his face and he wiped them away with his sleeve, the chain link metal scraping his skin.
Confidence flowed though his veins now. He saw the looks on the faces of his fellow fighters and realised that they too felt the same. These outsiders were no match for them when they were face to face like this. Whirling weapons burst from hidden compartments in the Freelanders' armour, surprising their foes as they sliced through their flimsy protection. Ancient fighting techniques took over automatically like a second skin, as natural as being able to walk. Although they had access to machines of war, his people declined to use them except in the case of grave need, preferring to rely on their hand-to-hand skills. It did not matter this day, the Hylian King had not brought machines of his own, their bulk too great to be transported over the sea.
They fought on, driving the Allied army back. The Freelanders movements were smooth and graceful; they gave no war cries and did not slip or lose their footing. Spinning, twirling, dodging, there was almost an ethereal beauty to their attacks. Their enemies were panicked, lunging in awkward, ugly thrusts. Their eyes bulged like a child trapped in a situation beyond its control, their feet sliding and stumbling in confused stances. The Freelanders picked them off easily. Chizan could not tell how long the battle had raged, but he saw the sun slowly make its lazy path across the sky, its light reflecting off of the metal, covering them all in a faint yellow sparkle.
Something moved above him, a black blur. The Prince looked up and his heart caught in his throat. The tops of the two adjacent hills were now swarming with Hylian archers, their bows aimed and ready like an execution squad. He blinked, not believing what his eyes were telling him. Tears ran down Chizan's face as he realised what was about to happen. The awareness struck him like a physical blow and he stepped back in a daze. How could they have been so stupid? How could they have ignored the tactical importance of those two, small, worthless little hills? All these summers honing their individual fighting skills and they had all forgotten one crucial factor – battle strategy! He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but shock had stilled his vocal cords. All hope of victory was shattered. The bitterness almost choked him. This could not be. This was Narik's Rock! Narik's Rock!
The sky darkened as the arrows were let loose. There was a hushed pause in the fighting as all eyes turned skywards. Like angry, black bees they rained down upon the Freelanders, easily piercing through armour and helmets. Another hail of the thin, lethal missiles fell and raw screams rang out chilling the Prince to his core. Still another wave came. Riders fell from their horses, as confusion and shock rippled through the ranks.
The Prince raised his sword and howled his defiance at the sky. Death would come this day and he of No Heroic Deed would be serving it. Everything Chizan had been taught about life crumbled into dust.
*
War was beautiful. Cyle sat upon his steed and laughed, his arms raised, and his voice bellowing. The Freelanders were falling back, the arrows tearing through the air, cutting them down. It was all so perfect. His soul glowed with smug satisfaction, drunk as it was on his inevitable victory. It was all thanks to Link. He almost laughed again. Link, of all people! This was too much. He could now break this stupid, painful world, take vengeance for all the suffering it had caused to him. He was Cyle Narawan and he deserved to be loved. He demanded it.
Cyle and Link stood at the rear of the battle, watching as the destruction unfolded. Chalance Vance had scampered off somewhere, no doubt gone to hide. The echo of metal on metal mixed with the shrill screams of pain. The air was drenched with the thin, quick sound of soaring arrows. Occasionally, a brave Freelander would break through to where they stood. Weakened and battered, they would be no match for his protector, Link. The Hero took one on now. A Freelander barged his way through the last line of fighters, his armour cut to ribbons, his purple eyes smouldered with a rage that fixed on Cyle. He charged at the King and Link moved.
The Hero of Time rolled into his legs, tripping the Freelander as Cyle watched with amusement. The warrior snarled, spinning in the dust and bringing his sword to bear on Link. The King's protector drew his weapon, parrying a thrust in a deluge of hot sparks. Wiping the sweat from his face, Link cautiously circled the Freelander, testing the water with a few playful jabs. They were the calm eyes of the storm as the hurricane raged around them. The Freelander hissed, tiring of the game. He swung his sword, aiming for the Hero's head. Link caught the attack with his own blade and pushed the warrior back. The golden skinned man slipped in the dust, trying to hold onto his footing as the two swords locked. He spun away, their weapons disengaging.
Digging his heel into the dirt, the Freelander swung again. Cyle could see the man was tiring and Link deflected the blow with a lazy parry. The enemy's blade cracked the air in a wide arc. Link ducked, throwing a punch to the man's midsection. He back flipped at the last instant, leaving the Hero to box at thin air. Bringing his arms together, the Freelander fired two silver darts from his wrist cavities. They whistled through the air, sharp tips sparkling as they flew towards Link's neck. The Hero yanked his sword upwards, colliding into the missiles with a yellow flash.
The battle around him temporarily forgotten, Cyle watched, engrossed in the contest. He saw the desperation in the Freelander's eyes as the man spat in the dust, and was struck by the contrasting determination on the Hero's face. Link was doing this for him, he thought with a quiver of affection. All for him. It touched him in a manner he thought was no longer possible. It was rare that anything could bring the King to tears, but now he felt his eyes brim with salty liquid. How could he have possibly doubted the man?
The Freelander charged, sword raised as Link held his ground. Cyle watched nervously. Was the Hero just going to calmly stand there and take the killing strike?
Link whirled twice, his hair spinning, the chain on his armour tingling. The Hero's sword flashed during the first turn, snapping the man's blade in two. In the second turn, Link threw an elbow into the Freelander's face, making his head jolt sharply sideways as he slumped into unconsciousness.
Cyle grinned, wanting to laugh again. Another Freelander burst through and Link snapped to attention. The King held up a hand.
"Mine!" Cyle growled, tightening his grip on the reins of his horse and drawing his sword. He galloped towards the newcomer, his hair flying, churning the sand beneath his steed's hooves. He would not be denied a kill this day.
The Freelander did not see what hit him. He seemed almost like a surprised rabbit caught by a hunter's expert bow as Cyle's sword sunk into his chest. An almost maniacal look danced in the King's eyes as he pushed the blade in further. The Freelander gurgled in pain. The King leaned down until he was nose to nose with the warrior, the purple eyes looming in his face.
"You fool. You cannot stop me," Cyle hissed in a whisper. "None of you can. You fall today. You, your brothers, your fathers, your sisters. You all fall today."
His victim slid to the ground and the King pulled his sword out, gasping in short breaths. The exhilaration made Cyle dizzy. He closed his eyes, savouring the taste of victory. Pulling on the reins, he gently trotted back to his protector. He noticed that Link had his bow out now and was firing arrows into the fray. Cyle sighed, content. He was satiated now. All he needed was for this battle to end so that he could celebrate his triumph.
*
Fran, Tessa and Chitz ran, an island of sanity in the blurring madness. The hunter held on tightly to his daughter's arm, reddening her wrist. Chitz hopped from rock to rock trying to keep up. They kept at the edge of the battle, hugging the side of the hill. The once green grass was now soaked red. Despair clawed at Fran's heart, cracking his spirit. They were not going to make it. They would die here, alone, no one to mourn them.
"Papa," Tessa gasped. The strain in her voice broke Fran's heart. He turned to her tear streaked face. She was pale and her pupils were dilating. She was going into shock. He clutched onto her, his soul begging for aid. Tessa looked around at the carnage, a numb expression on her face. Abruptly, she doubled over and retched, the battle getting too much for her. Fran grit his teeth. His poor, sheltered daughter had not had to experience anything remotely like this. Then again, he thought wistfully, neither had he. He knew that even if they did get out of here alive, they would be forever scarred.
"What have we here?" a lecherous voice asked. The hunter turned to see a Hylian soldier clamber up towards them, swinging his sword. The fighter's face was half mad, one eye bloated red. His clumsy approach loosened small rocks that rolled to the ground. "A nice little girly. War booty, I think." He gave a shrill laugh.
Fran's face creased with fury. "If you even look at her, I'll tear your arms from your sockets, animal."
"Oooh," the soldier waggled his fingers in mock-fear. "I don't think so, little man."
The hunter tensed, waiting to pounce. Tessa clung to his arm fearfully.
"No, Papa, don't," she whimpered. Fran knew he would die attacking the soldier. He was unarmed and the man was in full armour.
The soldier took a step forward, pointing his sword at the hunter's neck.
Chitz leapt from behind a pile of rocks and scratched at the soldier's face with a roar. The Hylian fell back in shock, the blade becoming loose in his hand. Snatching at the Imp's neck, he flung Chitz off with a growl. Fran lunged at him, but the Hylian was too quick, slicing his sword into the hunter's arm. Tessa screamed.
Fran fell to his knees gasping, as his daughter held onto his back just like she had when she was a child. The memory cut his heart, his wife's smiling ghostly image came to him and his mind drifted back to when she was alive cradling an infant Tessa. Happier times.
The soldier sneered. His eyes flicked over Tessa, menace radiating from his gaze. "I'll get to you in a minute, pretty girl." He raised his sword. "Let me just deal with the old man here."
The hunter slumped, unable to stop the pain from weakening him. He felt Tessa's grip stiffen, sensed the fear that radiated from her. He could feel the rapid hammering of her heart through his own skin. He had failed her. He had failed them all – himself, his dead wife, Chitz, the Queen, Link and most of all he had failed his daughter. The only jewel he had ever possessed in his life.
Fran flinched as the arrow punctured the man's head. Tessa blanched, her hand going to her mouth as the soldier fell. The hunter scanned the immediate area. Had that been a stray arrow? Or had someone just saved them? He could see nothing except the fighters absorbed in their own personal struggles. He had no time to ponder.
"Chitz?" he asked, getting shakily to his feet. Tessa still clung to him, as if she feared he would float away if she did not.
"At your service … haha." The Imp scrambled up beside them.
"Are you okay?"
"Haha…takes a lot more than that to beat an Imp. Haha…you look a little dented though, boss."
"You did well, my friend." Fran glanced at the gash on his arm, the blood seeping into his white shirt. His daughter gasped and, tearing a makeshift bandage from the hem of her skirt, tied the wound.
'Thank you, dear," he said, kissing her on the cheek. Her face was cold, but the smile she gave him warmed his heart. They would be okay, he hoped. But now there was little point in going north without getting his injury properly treated. Taking Tessa's hand in his, he led them towards Narik's Rock.
*
Zayna's arms ached. She used her sword almost blindly now, no longer needing to think about her actions. Thrust, parry, spin, thrust, parry, spin. The ground was now slippery with blood, some of it her own. Everywhere her gaze fell was awash with blood, severed limbs littering the once beautiful valley floor. Cuts stung her, and bile rose in her throat. She was sick. Sick of life. This was all her fault. This battle, this bloodshed. If she had not existed, Cyle would never have gone to war. The nausea her thoughts caused made her head spin. In ancient days mothers killed their baby daughters whom they thought were the Key. Her mother should have done the same to her. She should never have been allowed to be born. The realisation dazed her, as if she had been physically slapped.
She was still back-to-back with her old mistress, both of them frantically fighting of any attackers that came too close. Remorse taunted her, reminding her that the Queen was yet another person that would have been in a much better off situation had she not entered the world.
"Your Highness." Her throat was too dry and her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. Swallowing, she tried again. "Your Highness."
"Yes?" Zelda's voice was stretched and weary. Zayna felt a touch of sadness.
"It's a been pleasure fighting with you." Her voice trembled as she spoke.
"It's not over yet, Zayna. Don't give up hope." She heard the smile in the Queen's tone.
Zayna looked up, saw the archers perched on the hills, calmly picking them off whilst they took no damage themselves. She sniffed, her heart a dull throb, her spirits broken. All her fault. Cursed. That's what she was. Her mind was rebelling against her, like a malign voice whispering false promises to a desperate woman. A hopeless idea ignited within her. There was only one sure way this war would end.
"It is over," Zayna whispered.
Letting her sword clatter to the ground, she walked forwards slowly towards the edge of the wooden platform, her eyes wide as if in a trance. He steps sounded hollow as they reverberated through the timber. She was surprised to feel the cool breeze tickle her back, so reliant she had become of the warmth of Zelda's presence behind her. She felt numb in body and soul. The battle raged before her, a whirlpool threatening to draw her in and drown her. Just as she wanted. She bit back the tears, trying not to let her mind wander. She needed it to stay blank if she wanted to go through with this. The Key stood at the edge of the insanity. Only a few more steps would take her to oblivion.
"Zayna?" She heard the Queen's voice call her and tried to ignore it, blocking the memories the kindness of her tone brought. "What are you doing?!"
The Key closed her eyes. She heard the clang of metal and knew that Zelda was too occupied to prevent her.
"Ren, stop her!" Zayna looked up into the gold, impassive face of Viceroy Ren, sitting astride his horse, his stained spear in one hand. Their gazes locked. Ren's expression did not change, but he saw the intention in her eyes. Tugging at his reins, he moved his steed out of her path.
"Ren!" Zelda screamed. "What are you doing?!"
The Viceroy ignored her and Zayna turned her gaze back towards the battle. Hacked and disfigured faces gave feral snarls as their souls were stripped away under the shade of the swords. The flash of the blades invited her to freedom, to escape. Holding her arms out, she closed her eyes again, waiting for the end.
Something rammed into her, winding her. They skidded along the floor, the friction burning her back. Dizzily, she opened her eyes to look into the panicked face of the Queen. "What are you doing?" she demanded again.
Zayna saw the concern in her eyes and it burned her. Tears sprang to her eyes. She was not worth this. She was not worth anything. The Key struggled against the Queen, like a child throwing a tantrum.
"Let me go!" she cried, as Zelda kept her arms pinned down. "I have to die! Don't you understand? I have to die!"
Her own words broke her and she sobbed openly. "Worthless, I'm so worthless."
"No, Zayna, no," Zelda said, her voice soothing. "This isn't the way. We can help you, I promise you, I promise."
"It's too late," Zayna sniffed, her eyes glassy. "Too many people have died already. Too much death."
"If you die," the Queen said, gripping her arms so tightly they hurt. "We all die. We're in this together."
Zayna looked into her eyes. The sincerity in them touched her, melted the pain in her heart. She relaxed and Zelda got to her feet slowly and cautiously. The Queen held out her hand. Zayna swallowed, looking up again. There was that strength of emotion again in her Queen's eye. Insistent, willing her to accept and so certain. Pure conviction that everything would turn out right, no matter what. With a shame-faced smile that hurt her face, the Key took her hand.
*
It was over. Cyle closed his eyes, triumph flowing through him. He relaxed letting the feeling carry him, cradle him, and comfort him. The Freelanders had fallen completely back now. They were clinging to their pathetic Rock, easy pickings for his men. The valley floor was now filled with only his army. It was time for the final push, the mock retreat to draw out the last of the Freelanders before detonating the hills. The signal for the retreat would be when the archers left their positions. Since they could see the battle from their vantage point they could decide when to end it all. All that remained after would that was Link blowing on the horn. He hadn't felt this happy since he had been a small child.
Messengers swarmed around his protector, as he stood as calm as the Rock they assaulted. "Make sure the archers hold their position. They cannot leave too early," he barked at one, who scampered off to relay the message. Again, Cyle noticed the look of awe in the men's eyes, their hunger to fulfil Link's commands.
"Tell the left flank to keep steady. They're letting in too many holes," he said to another, a boy barely in his teenage years. "I want everyone to remain in the valley until the very last moment." The boy nodded before running off, ducking to keep himself clear from the swinging blades and flying arrows.
"Magnificent, is it not?" Cyle said to the Hero. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard over the din. They were safely away from the valley itself now so as not to get caught in the explosion, but they were still close enough to observe the massacre.
Link's eyes darted left and right, surveying the battle. Cyle imagined he could see strategies and counter-strategies working in the man's eyes.
"I suppose," Link mumbled, distracted.
The King smiled. "You should take a moment to drink it all in. This is your handiwork after all."
"It's not over yet," the Hero answered simply.
"So pessimistic."
This time Link did turn to face him. There was something dark in his eyes. "Far from it. Just being cautious."
"Link, you have done well." Again, the giddiness took hold of him and he could not hold the words back. "You know, Chalance Vance wanted to have you killed after this battle."
"Is that so?" the Hero asked quietly. His lips were pursed and his eyes were like crystal rocks.
"Yes. The stupid fool." Alarm bells ran in Cyle's head. Somehow he thought he should not be telling Link all this, yet he could not help himself. "I think I will make you my joint Advisor once this is over. How does that sound, eh? Money, fame, women. All yours."
Link's eyebrow spiked, but he said nothing.
The King grinned. "I knew you'd like it." He sniffed, his expression becoming pensive. "I so wanted to love you like a brother, Link. We're alike, you and I. If only you hadn't gotten so irked over that silly ranch girl." Something bubbled in Cyle's heart. This was as close to true sincerity as he got.
"Yes. Silly."
"Then you interfered between me and Zelda." The King shook his head, reminiscing. "You just don't understand. There's nothing a man like you could have offered a woman like that. Nothing."
The Hero pierced him with a cold stare. "Are you always this talkative in the middle of a battle?"
"Hahaha. Come on now. This has ended. They can't touch us here now. They've retreated to the Rock."
"Keep those arrows coming!" Link bellowed to the archers on the right hand hill. One of them waved in response as Cyle let his gaze fall on them
"I'll tell you what I want," the Hero said.
Interesting. His protector now thought he could make demands. "Name it."
Link gave a shrill whistle, attracting the attention of some soldiers. He beckoned to them, his hand swooping and swerving as he gave them an impromptu sword-fighting lesson.
"There's a village in the middle of the desert. Not much there for you. The minerals there are now next to worthless." He paused, making hand gestures to some other fighters. He waved his fingers forward, telling them to hold their position in the middle of the valley. "I want it."
"Done." Cyle did not see a problem with that.
"And," the Hero continued, his tone turning sly. "I want you to rename Lon Lon Village as Malon Village."
"How sweet." The King snorted. "Fine."
Link looked up at him. "You'd really do that?"
Cyle shrugged with a sigh. He did not really want to think of the girl at this moment. "I hope that infernal Prince Chizan is alive. I look forward to crushing his windpipe." He pondered over his words. "Maybe I'll have it served for breakfast." Cyle peered into the distance, frowning. He spied a figure at the edge of the fighting. A familiar face. "In fact…yes…yes…it's her. Zelda!"
Link's head snapped up, following the King's gaze. The Hero chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, before clutching his bow and flipping an arrow into his hand.
"What are you doing?" Cyle asked.
"What I promised. Her heart. A plate. Delivered to you."
The King blinked, coming to his senses. Yes, of course. Why had he been rambling like a teenaged maiden? This was what he wanted. The Freelanders dead at his feet. The Hero kneeling at his feet. And now, his Queen – his Queen – grovelling at his feet. He most certainly did not want her dead, no matter what Chalance Vance insisted.
"Take her down," he said, his voice regaining its usual composure. "But don't kill her."
Link nodded, setting the arrow in place.
The King turned to his two other guards that trailed him at a distance. "You two," he said, pointing. "Go around and pick her up. Make sure the enemy do not get her."
"Yes, sire," they said, turning their horses with a click of their tongues.
Cyle gazed into the distance. My poor little Queen. When will you learn that you cannot defy me? How delicious this is. You will be captured by an arrow loosed by Link.
The Hero of Time raised his bow and aimed.
*
The Freelander King fell from his horse, taking one blow too many. Prince Chizan ran to him, his heart panicked. Ren and some others huddled around, raising their shields to protect their liege from any stray arrows. Cradling his father's head in one hand, he used the other to grip his father tightly. The old man coughed, his soft purple eyes looking up at the Prince sadly.
"Do not worry," he said with a grimace. "Nothing more than a nasty fall. I'll be up in no time."
Chizan squeezed the old man's hand, resting his forehead against his father's own head. Up in no time. No time is all they had left now. He heard the arrows smack into the Rock with a sharp crack, saw the Allied soldiers advance as the Freelanders back-pedalled. Gently resting the King's head against the ground, Chizan stood taking up his bow.
He looked around. Zelda and Zayna were sagging, the strength visibly seeping from their bodies. Tyron lay hunched over his horse, unmoving. Ren's spear had broken in two; his knuckles now skinned pink with blood. Chizan closed his eyes and for the first time in his life, let go of his life long teachings and surrendered himself to the cold embrace of despair. Shame burned him, branding him a traitor to his Freelander heritage. He caught sight of another group of archers sliding down the hill, sending small rocks tumbling in their wake. They crouched before the wooden platform, locking their arrows into position.
"And so it comes to this," the Prince whispered. Raising his bow, he loosed an arrow. Then a second. Another. He aimed blindly, no longer caring where they went so long as they hit one of their enemies. He continued, the bowstring cutting into his fingers, though it no longer mattered to him. He just needed to be beside one person now. Chizan made his away across to the Queen, stepping over Freelander corpses, their faces as serene in death as they were in life.
What would he say to her? It would be sheer foolishness to admit his feelings now, in this situation. Yet, if he did not, he knew he would never get another chance. The Queen was leaning against the Rock, gasping for breath. Her hair hung in sweat soaked tangled strings. Her eyes and face had lost their sheen and bright cuts stood out on her face and arms. He ached for her.
"Prince Chizan," she breathed, giving him a sad smile as he approached. "How does it feel to live out your very own Heroic Deed?"
Heroic Deed. He did not answer, now knowing exactly how he could express his feelings without having to say them. It always takes two to take the Test of the Labyrinth. It always takes two to make a Heroic sacrifice.
"Flee," he said, startling her.
"What?" she whispered.
"Flee." The muscles in his face tightened as he let his bow drop. "Live to fight another day. The world does not need me. It does need you."
"What do you…?"
He stood in front of her, positioning himself between her and the soldiers. He raised his arms, daring them to strike.
"No," she said firmly, realising what he meant to do. With a shove she pushed him to the floor. He was surprised at her strength. "Not you as well. We all go together."
She glanced over to Zayna who nodded in return. Standing on shaky knees, the Key joined her at her side. The trio raised their weapons as the arrows started flying.
One rammed into Chizan's shoulder and he felt the spasm of pain run through his spine. He coughed, tasting warm, metallic blood in his mouth. All for naught. Their whole adventure had been all for naught. Another arrow struck his leg, forcing him to his knees. His vision blurred and the sky spun slowly around his head. He heard nothing, but the soft, sweet singing of birds. The voices, the arrows, the swords all faded into nothingness. All that was left were the birds. Dimly, he was aware that Zayna had fallen. What had happened to the Queen? Where was Zelda?
He could not concentrate any longer. The world spiralled into a pinpoint of darkness. He spread his arms, waiting for the killing blow.
*
Cyle waited as Link held the bow still. He watched him, watched the Hero's gaze narrow and focus on its target. The King's heart trembled in anticipation, his ears pumping with red-hot blood as his heart raced. He swallowed, wiping away tears. So easy. It had all been so easy. Link's thumb rubbed against the bowstring and the sun glinted off of the metal tip, highlighting its deadly sharpness.
He stole a glance towards the Rock. Freelanders fell all around his one time wife and he noted with satisfaction the faint lines of desperation and pain on her face. All that was left was Link's shot. It was only fitting that it was her former dear friend that would send the strike that would finally topple her. It would have been poetic justice if the Hero had been allowed to drive the arrow straight through her heart. Cyle knew Link would do it too, without even a moment's hesitation. But he still wanted her alive, needed her alive, if only to gloat over how wrong she was. Link tensed and the King kept his gaze on the point. So close. So close. So…
Instantly, Link spun and Cyle's eyes stretched in shock as he found himself face to face with the steel tip.
"DIE!!!"
The King screamed as the Hero snarled, releasing his arrow. Cyle jerked his head, throwing himself off of the horse. The sharp tipped missile sliced through the side of his face, whizzing beside his ear before bouncing harmlessly away. The King crumpled in a heap on the ground, warm blood pouring into his eye as Link strode up to him with soft steps. He flung his bow away and drew his sword, the sharp sound ringing in Cyle's ears.
The King looked up into the face of the Hero. His body trembled despite his best efforts to calm himself. Link looked down on him with a look of undiluted serenity. There was no pity in those eyes and only a pebble's weight of disgust. Cyle had seen that look before many, many times. The look of confidence, blunted by humility, the look of one who knew his place in the world and had embraced it. In the darkest, bitterest pit of his gut, the King finally realised that the young man before him was and always would be the same, old Link.
"I am Link, the Hero of Time," he said, his voice steady as Cyle wheezed for breath. "I know no mother and I know no father, but I know this: I am slave to no one, least of all you, Cyle."
The King scrambled backwards, dread pulsing in his veins. His hands clutched at the sand, letting it ooze through his fingers. His eyes dried and his mouth lost all function as he watched Link slowly raise his sword.
"Did you honestly think I would join you, Cyle?" the Hero asked softly. "You. Murderer. Killer of Malon." All Cyle could hear was the sound of Link's voice. The sounds of the battle melted away and everything apart from Link's image shimmered as if it were a mirage. "Did you think I would really kill Zelda? She was my only reason for living. Even when she married you, it was still the memory of her past kindness that kept me alive. Even if I could not bear to see her again, what we shared in the past was enough to sustain me." He paused, letting the blade quiver slightly. "And did you honestly think I wanted a whole village to myself? You're as stupid as you look, Cyle."
Cyle shut his eyes tight as the blade came down. He jerked as it smashed into his belt, breaking the horn.
"See this?" The Hero held up the back of one hand and the King could make out the familiar triangular shape of the Triforce. "Courage, Cyle, courage. A word that you know so little about. It was courage that helped me withstand your pet Vance's little game." He swallowed. "And it was Zelda. Even when she is absent, she does more for me than she ever could for you."
Link raised the sword again. Cyle's eyes locked onto the silver tip, swallowing as he saw that it hovered over his neck.
"But…ut…" the King choked. "You organised the battle! Everything was set up by you!"
The Hero winked at him. "This is the part where I save the day."
A blast of green magical energy threw Link to the ground, his sword flying from his hand. A faint film of green light clung to the Cyle's retina as the aftershocks of the wave passed. The air sizzled with energy as if sparks were trying to burst through the sky and invade the world. Link lay still, the middle of his tunic burning with a soft column of black smoke. The Hero's fingers jerked as he started to stir. In an instant, Chalance Vance was beside Cyle, gripping his wrist tightly. Waving his other hand, the sorcerer muttered something under his breath in a tongue that Cyle did not understand. The King felt a shaft of heat burn through his eyes as the world slowly dissolved out of focus.
When his vision returned, he found himself sitting on a grassy plain, the hills and Narik's Rock in the distance. Vance was standing beside him, silent. Cyle's skin felt cold and clammy, whatever magic his Advisor had used was having a physical effect on him. He shook his head to try and rid himself from the low ringing that echoed in his skull. Why wouldn't the thrice cursed buzzing end?
Cyle froze. His mouth dried instantly. The sound wasn't coming from within his head!
"No."
He shot to his feet as the pieces of Link's plan fell neatly into place. The low, trilling sound got louder and broader.
"No!"
The horn!
It was loud now, a shimmering trumpet like noise. The twin explosions rocked Cyle back to the floor, long flames tearing the two hills apart. Volcano like, they erupted in a storm of flying rock, grass and soil. The potent mixture dissolved into grey ash. The archers were flung from their positions, colliding with one another in sickening mid-air crunches. Slowly, the hills collapsed into rumbling rocky landslides, engulfing the soldiers trapped in the valley with waves of sharp gravel, choking them in crumbling tombs. A cloud of dust ponderously floated outward and upward.
Cyle watched as the last grains of sand in the egg timer of his dreams slowly faded away. His beautiful, magnificent army. Lost, all lost.
Still on his knees, the King threw back his head and arms.
"!!"
Chalance Vance remained calm as Cyle wept. Letting powerful, ancient words roll on his tongue, the sorcerer summoned his minions. Dark shapes peeled themselves off from the ground, their eyes narrow red slits, their tongues hissing. Shadow Wraiths.
"Ssssss…what isss thy bidding?" one of them asked.
"The Hero of Time and his companions. Follow them. Keep me notified of their plans."
"As you wissshhh." The Wraiths slunk towards Narik's Rock, fading into the dark places the eye cannot see.
Chalance Vance walked over to the King and, hooking his hands under Cyle's shoulders, lifted him to his feet. The King sobbed like a small child. "Come, Sire. It is time for us to depart."
*
Zelda coughed violently as she tried to clear the dust from her eyes. She stumbled to her feet, confused by the eerie silence. A few loose rocks tumbled, but apart from that all was still. She peered through the gloom trying to find a familiar face. She knew Zayna had fallen, taking an arrow in the side. Her momentum had dragged Zelda to the ground too. And that was when the hills exploded.
She shook her head, puzzled. The air was starting to clear, but visibility was still poor. Dropping to her knees, she felt around in front of her. Zayna must be around here somewhere. Her hands searched on the misshapen wood, splinters stinging her fingers.
"Zayna?" she called hopefully.
A groan responded. The Queen followed the sound, her hands held out in front of her. Her fingers curled around soft fabric and she found her former Advisor lying prone on the floor, her eyes closed.
"Zayna?" she said, gently shaking the woman. The Key's lips were parted briefly, though the dust prevented Zelda from clearly seeing whether she was breathing or not. "Zayna?"
Zayna's eyes frowned for an instant as she moaned softly before fluttering open. She blinked once, twice. The Queen saw the dark red stain on the woman's side and bit her lip with worry. Zayna noticed her concern.
"It's just a graze," she said softly. She blinked again, looking around. "What happened?"
Zelda shrugged. "I don't know. We won, I guess."
Her aching muscles protested as she got to her feet again, but she ignored them, seeking out the others. She found a haggard looking Tyron hunched over Chizan, tending to his wounds. Other Freelanders were hovering around him, bandaging and pouring spicy smelling liquids into his wounds. The Prince was gasping with short, raspy breaths.
"Will he be alright?" she asked, noting the arrows still stuck deep in his shoulder and leg.
Tyron looked up with a smile. "He'll live. Though he'll be stiff for a few weeks."
The Queen nodded, relieved. She caught a glimpse of Ren, bandaging his own arm, but the Viceroy refused to meet her gaze. She still felt the torch of anger towards him for almost letting Zayna walk to her death, but she decided to lock it away and address it later when the time was right.
She clutched at her tunic, rattling the chain mail armour as she peered out into the dust as it slowly began to fade. The sun had begun its descent back towards the horizon, its glow turning from bright yellow to burning red. Had they won? How? Why? Who? And had it been worth it. The last thought was a whisper as she surveyed the path of corpses that lay everywhere from all the different races of the world. She knew she had no answers, her mind dully wondering whether Cyle had survived what had happened. Her heart did not respond and she felt relieved that she was finally rid of him emotionally, if not physically.
Her hand prickled. She turned it, watching as her Triforce symbol throbbed with a mind seemingly of its own. She looked up, her eyes trying to make out shapes through the curtain of dust. Someone approached. She felt no fear and was surprised at herself as she started to walk slowly out towards the valley. Zelda peered, trying to make out the person's features. She saw the posture, proud and strong. An outline appeared. The person was male.
The Queen clenched her fist and started to jog forwards. The man's head jerked as if he had just spotted her too. He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure what to do. She slowed a little, wondering if she had made a mistake. Then, after a moment, he also made to move a little quicker. Her lip quivered as her heart was caught between hope and caution. All thoughts of her friends were briefly forgotten. They were running now, eager to connect. She did not know how he had gotten here and neither did she care.
She melted into his arms with a laugh. He gripped her tightly around the waist, twirling her around. A grin she thought she would never let go shone on her features as she gazed into his face. Tears flowed down both their cheeks, the joy apparent in the twinkling of their eyes.
"Link!" she cried, her voice almost breaking from the emotion. "You came back!"
"Yes," he replied, sniffing. "I came back."