Chapter 32
The burning sand curled around Cyle's toes as his bootless feet sank into the island's beach. Hands on his hips, the Hylian monarch surveyed the scene as the waves of the sea sloshed up against the shore behind him and his men scurried around heaving crates full of supplies. The mist hung above them in the air, a portentous cloud watching them with dark grey eyes. It was high enough not to affect their visibility and Cyle was grateful for that, though he felt a little uneasy at the unnaturalness of the phenomenon. Before him loomed a jungle that stretched away into the distance, small, brightly coloured creatures darting in and out of the foliage, the echoing sounds of exotic birds ringing in the air.
He felt Chalance Vance stop at his side, but did not turn to him. "How go the preparations?" Cyle asked.
"All is well," his Advisor answered. The sorcerer was still clad in his long, flowing robes and Cyle saw that the man was sweating profusely from the humidity. The fool. "We have a small party that will accompany us to the Gate. Once there, I will open a portal and bring in the remaining Morolak regiments. Then we can enter."
Cyle peered into the gloomy darkness of the jungle. "Where is the Gate anyway?"
He felt Vance fidget beside him. "The map Beldrig gave us only specifies the location of the island," the Advisor answered. "I would assume that the Gate is at the centre of this jungle."
Finally, Cyle turned to him one eye raised. "You would assume…?" he said, noticing the tight grip Vance had on his staff. It was as though the staff were a child to him. "You mean you don't know?"
The sorcerer licked his lips, throwing the King a hurried glance. "Not exactly, no. But the island is small and it will not take us long."
With a deep sigh, Cyle walked to the edge of the jungle, his arms outstretched as he bathed in the sun's rays. His tunic clung to him like a sticky skin, but Cyle was not perturbed.
"The Key, Vance," he called, turning his head back slightly. "Where is she?"
There was a pause before the sorcerer answered in a mournful tone, "My agents failed to capture her."
Cyle's brow knitted in frustration and he spun on his heel, snarling. "So Zelda still has her?" He cocked his head in exasperation, before fixing his Advisor with a glare. "How many times must you fail me in this regard? How many?"
His chest heaved as he let his anger free. A drop of sweat rolled down his nose.
Vance kept his gaze, a dispassionate look on his face. There was something in the man's eyes that Cyle did not like. Some glitter of cunning, some small note of triumph that hinted at hidden knowledge.
"This was to be expected," the sorcerer said. "We know where they are headed now."
"Which is?"
"The Temple of the Dead."
Cyle's forehead throbbed. It seemed like he was having the same conversations with Chalance Vance over and over again. He was being left in the dark once more. And yet, something stopped him from challenging his Advisor to tell him more. Something heavy that weighed at the back of his mind like a hot coal.
"What do they seek there?"
Vance snorted, his face curling into a smirk. "Foolish dreams," he spat. "Do not worry, Sire. Once they arrive there we will have them. I have a little…surprise planned for them. One that will not fail at all."
"See that it doesn't," Cyle answered, throwing one last meaningful glance at him.
A soldier shuffled up to them, his eyes darting nervously between the pair as he tried to keep his composure. He was obviously awed in the presence of his seniors. A good thing, Cyle mused. He studied the man's face, looking over his smooth skin and youthful features. The Hylian could be no more than sixteen summers past, one of the new conscripts from Hyrule. Cyle wondered how they would fare trekking through the jungle if this was the quality of his companions.
"Speak," the King ordered.
The soldier gave a shaky salute, before turning his full attention to Cyle. "Sire. We are ready to depart, Sire."
Cyle nodded with a small smile. He knitted his fingers and bent them outwards, cracking the knuckles. "Good," he said, his gaze still on the Hylian. "Then let us go."
The King turned back towards the jungle, the feeling of satisfaction growing in his heart. He froze and his mouth dried. He heard gasps from his men around him. Emerging from the foliage were a large group of scarred, muscular men, their spears at the ready and their faces fierce.
One of them towered over Cyle and he had to take a step back. The man spoke, his voice growling.
"You shall not pass."
*
They marched on in silence, their horses left behind at the mouth of the mines. They traversed along a winding path that cut through yet another forest of tall trees. Heads bent low, the feeling of loss floated in the air between them. Link strode ahead, his silver armour clinking with every step, his narrowed eyes, enclosed in blue and red tattoos, scanning the area. Zayna and Chizan walked behind him and Zelda and Tessa were at the rear. The farm girl clung to the Queen's arm, her nails digging into Zelda's arm. The Imp was still lodged in Tessa's backpack, his head resting on her shoulder as his large, yellow eyes swam with sadness.
Zelda looked down at the farm girl and stroked her hand. Tessa's pale face was a knot of pain, her eyes red with continuous crying, her hair and clothes untidy and ragged. The girl barely spoke now, and she had started to lose weight off of her already slender form. Zelda ached in sympathy for her, and felt a trace of guilt too. It was her that had dragged Fran into their quest. It was her that had led him to his end.
It wasn't your fault, Zelda. You didn't know what was going to happen.
She looked up at the sound of Link's voice in her mind. His presence was like a warm bed, her heart resting on a rock of certainty that gave her strength. It was the intimate bond that she had craved for throughout her life and she would forever be grateful for it. And well she should be. It was still strange to her, this connection of theirs. In her sheltered youth, hidden away behind castle walls, she may have even dreamt of having such a relationship. But as she grew older and reality had sunk its teeth in, she had known love to be something quite different, something that was not always the be all and end all of existence. She had felt no urgency to find another after the bitterness that was Cyle. But Link's re-entry into her life had awoken those old, old fancies and hopes. The ones children have, but are never realised.
And, yet she was, experiencing something that she believed no one else prior to her ever had. Quite literally, a dream come true.
Still. It was not like they could read one another's thoughts. They sensed each other's moods and the subtle shifts therein and interpreted them as they wished. More often than not they were right in their conclusions. When they wanted, they could shape their emotions into words and converse with one another, at other times they were silent, covered like a blanket over a sleeping child. She respected the times when he stayed quiet, knowing when he wished to be alone with his own thoughts and knowing when he wished to speak. He did the same to her too, and only occasionally did he intrude into her mind unwanted, though he would back away when he felt her tingle of irritation.
There was still a lot of adjusting to do.
She sent out a wave of thanks for his concern.
I know that, Link. It's just…I can't help it. She added a tinge of amusement. I'm too used to taking responsibility for everything.
She felt his light chuckle and his shushing away of all her doubts.
You enjoy fretting over people, he teased. It's you, and I love you for it. She grinned inwardly. A tiny flicker of a warning reached her. But don't let it kill you, Zelda. She felt his attention shift. Tessa doesn't blame you, I'm sure. And give her time; she'll open up to us soon.
Zelda let her sigh float to him. I hope so, Link.
It had been a bittersweet week. Emerging from the caverns, they had seen the Morose Mountains looming in the distance, a silent guard watching over the land. They had stopped to conduct a small ceremony in Fran's honour, Chizan in particular, speaking ancient and touching words from Freelander funeral rites. Tessa had broken down and sobbed, barely sleeping or eating. They had worried over her, trying to get her to eat the smallest morsels, but she would not budge. She had not left Zelda's side for more than she needed to either.
A few days later, Tyron had conducted a simple ceremony, tying Link to Zelda. She had felt surreal over the whole thing, having to deal her grief with her happiness. Most strange of all was that it had been at Tessa's insistence, on the rare occasion that she had decided to speak. On the day of the ceremony itself, she had given them her first smile for a long time. It had been nothing more than an exchange of vows, Zelda knowing that nothing more extravagant could happen until they retook Hyrule and were finally at peace. She wondered how the Hylian aristocracy would react, but decided that she would tackle that if and when she was faced with it.
Zelda had felt Link's eagerness during the whole ceremony, the sheer relief he had felt after many summers of pent-up frustration. She had sensed the happiness in his heart and it gratified her, though she did notice that it was laced with a sense of unbelief, a sense that this was unreal and that she would float from his grasp once more. She had been apprehensive and excited also, though her feelings had a duller edge to them. After all, she had been through this once already. She had had to bolster his certainty, comforting him by opening her soul so that he could see how happy she was too. They merged like that for an instant, their feelings giving more weight to their vows.
Tragedy had struck again after that. Tyron's wound had festered and whatever dark poison that had laced the Shadow's weapon and spread through her old friend's body. A fever had overtaken him and he jerked in painful spasms as Zelda had held onto his hand tightly, tears rolling down her face. He had whispered words about a promise he had made to her mother before her death to keep Zelda safe. His voice had been thick with emotion, the weight of the pledge obviously something he took seriously.
And then, after many summers of faithful service, after a long life of being the Old Wise Man of Hyrule Castle, Tyron had died.
Link had tried to fill her mind with comfort, but she had pushed him away. She needed to deal with this on her own, needed to taste the pain just so she knew she could endure it. She was the Queen of Hyrule and she did not want to weaken herself by becoming too reliant on the Hero of Time. And also she needed to keep the flame alive, the flame that snatched at her feet and kept her going, the flame of injustice that had been lit by Cyle.
Link was prodding at the corners of her psyche again and she opened her mind in response.
Zelda, I promise you that as soon as all this is over, you'll have the grandest wedding in history.
I don't need that, Link. One wedding per lifetime was enough for me. She paused, momentarily forgetting her grief over fallen friends. Besides, you have to stop thinking that you need to buy me…things…to win me over. I'm past that part in my life.
A Princess who doesn't like luxurious gifts? he teased. Bringing yourself down to our level are we?
For some reason she felt a twinge of annoyance at the words. He caught it though and she felt his sincere remorse. I'm sorry. I'm just jesting.
She sent him a smile of comfort. I know. I shouldn't be so sensitive. She wrapped her next thought with a playful edge. Besides, I'm a Queen, not a Princess. I have finer tastes.
Oh? She felt his mirth and had to stop herself from laughing. Would that include a newly refined taste in Heroes with tattooed faces?
Don't flatter yourself, dear.
Zelda relaxed, happy to be herself as she had always been whenever she was with him. She was still taken back by his new-found boldness with her though, his self-assurance that shone within him.
It's because of you, Zelda, he said, reading into her feelings. It's because you…
Oh, stop, she responded with a mental chuckle. She knew how he felt about her, and was always happy to hear him say it, but whenever he implied that it was only because of her that he had pulled himself from the brink that it scared her. At first she had been touched, but after a while she just wanted to believe that it was the two of them together, that she had just set him on the way and then he had grasped the opportunity himself. People don't need someone to love them in order to be their true selves.
She heard the contradiction in her own words, knew that she did not really let herself go around anyone save him, but she still stuck to them. This was different. She kept herself closed for a variety of reasons, whether it was because of custom, courtly manners or anything else. Link had always needed to be prodded before letting down his guard.
Some people do need to be loved, he replied, his mood serious. I did. I guess I'm not as Heroic as everyone assumes.
And there was that earnestness again, that endearing feeling that he was lost and awkward, though still sincere. A sharp contrast to what she had sensed from him only moments ago. She realised that she was glad it was still a part of him, but also relieved that it no longer dominated him, though his words still triggered off the conflict in her – half of her wanting to soar because he needed her so, the other half wanting him to be her equal and not as a child to his mother.
Is it wrong to feel what I do? he asked. Am I not allowed to have one little weakness? And can't that weakness be you?
She ignored the question, though she could not hide the simple joy the words brought to her heart, deciding instead to play along with his earlier suggestion. Well. If it's a big wedding, I want all of Hyrule to be there. I mean, all my people. And enough food for everyone. And a week of celebration. She paused as she pondered. I want a grand dress too, the likes of which no one has ever set eyes on before.
You want all the people there?
Yes. I enjoy fretting over people, remember? she added with a grin. If one person is unhappy or left out then the day will be ruined. She sent him a mock-stern frown. I want there to be dancing too. And you have to dance.
No! Spare me! he replied, coating the thought with a grin. Is it too late to back out of this marriage?
Zelda had to bite down to stop herself from laughing out loud. You're with me for eternity, Hero.
Something nagged at her at those words. She had thought that she and Cyle were for eternity also. Link showered her with a soothing embrace to her heart.
For eternity, he repeated. Though that's how long it's probably going to take me to pay off this wedding.
He turned his head around to her with a smile and she giggled in response, her cheeks reddening slightly as she felt a measure of guilt at being so jovial while Tessa was in so much pain at her side.
Zayna looked up, her eyes flicking from between the Hero and the Queen. "You two need to find yourselves a room in an Inn," she said.
Zelda frowned. At any other time, Zayna would have said the same with a trace of humour in her voice. But this time her tone was strained and Zelda noticed the tightness around her eyes and the haggard look to her face. As they drew closer to their meeting with the dragon, Zelda knew that Zayna must be under a tremendous stress that, like Tessa, she would not share with the others.
The Key shifted the weight of her travelpack as she walked on.
"Do you want me to carry that?" Zelda asked.
"I'm fine," the other answered simply.
"Are you sure? I can~"
"I'm fine."
"Let us camp for the night." It was Chizan's voice. The Prince had passed no comment on Link and Zelda's union and had reverted back to his tight-lipped detached demeanour that Zelda remembered from their first meeting. "Up ahead is a small town. It lies in a valley between here and the Temple of the Dead. In the morning we can get supplies."
Link stopped, unshouldering his travelpack. "A good idea," he said. "Let's take a rest."
*
Tessa let her head rest against the trunk of the tree, watching the others prepare the camp with glassy eyes. In her hand, she rolled the jewel Link had given her between her fingers. She could not bear to look at it though, not because Link was finally lost to her, but because every time she peered into the glittering green gem she saw the smiling face of her father staring back at her.
She felt the tears well up within her, springing from the gaping wound in her heart. First her mother and now her Papa was gone too. The world felt constricted to her, like she would suffocate from the looming sense of loneliness. It did not matter to her whether it was night or day; everything was now dark in her eyes.
Tessa gasped as the Prince swung down from the branches, a smile creasing his upside-down golden face.
"Your Highness," she said. "You startled me!"
A frown crossed his face. "I apologise." He hung there, swinging slightly in the breeze. Tessa thought he looked almost humorous. "You look sad."
Tessa blinked; surprised that anyone would state something so obvious. "Well…yes, Your Highness," she mumbled. "I think I have a right to be."
"Don't call me 'Your Highness'," he said, dropping from the tree and landing on his feet. "Call me Chizan."
She smiled in response, looking down and feeling awkward. Tessa had never really spoken to the Prince before and was a little taken back at his attempt at showing familiarity. He sat before her, his arms around his legs, slowly rocking back and forth like a child. He studied her face in silence until she thought her cheeks would burn from embarrassment. Her heart trembled, hoping he was not here to talk about things she did not want to discuss.
"You remind me of my sister," he added, before blinking in thought. "Well, one of my sisters."
"Oh?" she asked with another smile. She was pleased that he had not come to force her to speak about her Papa after all. "How many do you have?"
"Twenty-six," he replied without hesitation.
Her mouth dropped open. "Twenty-six?! Your mother must have been very busy!" She blushed as she realised exactly what he said. She chastised herself inwardly. Surrounded by all these worldly-wise people she felt more than a little left out. Once a farmgirl, always a farmgirl. Tessa sighed.
The Prince chuckled. "Well, she is two hundred and fifty summers old" he said with a shrug.
Tessa leaned forward, her pain slightly forgotten as she hung on the Prince's words. She heard the faint chirping of the insects of the night and the soft hoot of an owl. For a moment she remembered being back home, laughing and playing as a fire burned on festival night.
"Then how old are you?" She caught herself again, feeling ashamed. "Oh! That is, if it's okay for me to ask."
"Yes, it is." He grinned and gave her a wink. "Just under a hundred."
She swallowed, fascinated by the revelations.
"Freelanders have long lives," he added.
"I guess so," she said. There was a whole world outside of Lon Lon that she only knew about vaguely. Still. What was the point of it if she had no one to share it with?
"May I see that, please?" He held out his hand motioning at her jewel. Cautiously, she placed the gem in his palm, puzzled at the request.
His fingers curled around it into a shaking fist and her heart lurched as she heard pops and cracks. The muscles in his hand spasmed and rolled, as tiny flecks of green crystal flew from his grasp.
Tessa peered forward as he slowly opened his hand. Sitting amongst the broken shards was a small, perfectly formed replica of Lon Lon Ranch. She blinked, taking it from him and feeling it in her hands just to convince herself that it was real.
"How did you…?" she gasped, not able to find the words. "Is this magic?"
Chizan flinched as though he had been stung and Tessa wondered if she had said something wrong. "No, no, no!" he said hastily. "Not magic." He softened his tone with a smile. "Just another Freelander skill."
"Thank you," she breathed, raising her head so that their eyes met.
The Prince's hands curled around hers and he closed her fingers over the gift. "You must set your heart free, daughter of One with Heroic Deeds," he said with a soft smile. "While we all still breathe, you will never be alone."
*
A lantern hung from the tree, spreading faint, dreamy light as Zayna trained with Link. The others slept softly in their bedrolls, all save Chitz the Imp who silently watched master and apprentice spar under a night sky. They were not fighting with any particular zeal, their strikes slow, lazy and easy to deflect. Link was showing her various swordfighting manoeuvres, puncturing the sound of ringing steel with his comments.
"When you battle," he said, his sword slicing in a sluggish arc which she parried easily. "Do not think too much about your opponent. Don't consider him a fellow person with thoughts and feelings like yourself. You only have one task – to gain victory over him."
"Or her," she replied, frowning as she lowered her sword. She let the words sink in. "This is different to what you taught me before. I'm no longer supposed to care?"
He smiled and darted forward with a thrust. She caught the blow and spun away.
"This way," he said. "You won't let your emotions get the better of you. Insults won't drive you to do anything rash. Your opponent will not be able to use your emotions against you."
She ducked another strike and tested his armour with a swing of her own. She was glad of the diversion, glad that her mind would not dwell on that gnawing dread that haunted her when she thought of what was yet to come. Zayna was able to let out her frustrations through this exercise and her attacks had an extra drive to them.
"So I'm supposed to think of them as a hunk of meat?" she asked.
"No," he replied, taking the brunt of the blow without flinching and twirling his sword. "Think of them as an empty space."
Zayna scowled, raising one eyebrow. "An empty space with a weapon?"
"Yes," he answered. "Until they're defeated. Then you make your choice. Have mercy and let them flee, or finish them off."
She swallowed, again feeling puzzled. "Why should such a responsibility be given to me?"
"It's the victor's right."
She dug her sword tip down into the ground, signifying the end of their round. Leaning forward on the hilt, she continued, "How do I know which choice to make?"
Link sheathed his sword. "If they're so wounded that they won't fight again, you should let them go," he answered, reaching for two water pouches and throwing one to her. "If they've had the fight taken out of them, you let them go." He uncorked the pouch and took a long swig. "If there's still that ferociousness about them, then all they'll do is return to haunt you another day. In fact, they may target you specifically, or target someone dear to you." He paused, his gaze level. "In which case, it's better for all if they don't live."
Zayna wiped her mouth after taking a sip. Everything she was hearing this night was new to her and it was taking her a while to digest it all. "How do I know if they're still going to fight or not?"
"You'll know given enough time and experience. You'll know from their posture. You'll know just by sniffing the air."
Zayna shook her head, sitting down besides the Imp to rest. "You ask a lot."
Link smiled. "It takes a lot to be the Hero."
She sighed, playing with laces on her boots. "Do I really want to be the next Hero?"
He sat down in front of her, cross-legged. "Are you asking me or yourself?" he said. When she did not reply, he added, "Is it what you truly want?"
Zayna had no answer to that. For what seemed like forever she had been running from life, not able to find a place to fit in, not able to feel like she belonged. And yet, this had defined her, made her savour life that much more. By constantly being on the lookout for the next possible danger, she had not felt any sort of emptiness. She supposed that living life as a Hero would be more of the same. She might just enjoy it. But only if she could rid herself of her curse.
"You're not setting a good example, Link," she said, ignoring his question.
He locked his fingers together, waiting for her to explain.
"Look at you. A wife," she cocked her head in Zelda's direction. "A whole new life. You'll be having children next." Her mouth curled. "You've gone soft."
"That's why the faster we get you ready, the faster I can settle down," he replied with a grin. He stood up and Zayna let her gaze follow him.
"Would you really give it all up?" she asked. She was focused now, concentrating, relieved once again that she did not have to think on other thinks that shrivelled her heart and made her irritable. "The adventuring, I mean."
He paused to look back at her with a piercing gaze. "No, never," he answered with a soft voice. "It's in my blood. And it'll be in the blood of all my children too."
Zayna's gaze fell on her sleeping friends. "Looks like Zelda's having pleasant dreams nowadays," she said with a smirk.
Link looked over to his sleeping wife, and Zayna saw the look of adoration shining in his eyes. She almost felt awed by it.
"Yes," he answered. "She's dreaming about her childhood in Hyrule."
Zayna snorted as she got to her feet, brushing off the dust from her tunic. "Link, how could you possibly know what she's dreaming about?"
The sound of galloping hooves broke into their conversation and, with an exchange of panicked glances; they ran to the source, Chitz following behind them. The trio sprinted down the path, Link and Zayna drawing their weapons with a metallic screech. Scrambling to crouch behind a large, moss-covered boulder, they peered into the murky darkness, waiting. The rhythmic thud got louder and louder and their eyes narrowed, their hands tightening around the hilts of their swords.
"Look, boss," Chtiz whispered.
A small girl came running into view, dark scratches lining her arms, her eyes full of fear. A masked rider emerged from behind her, swinging his sword as he gained on the child. Zayna hissed in disgust. She did not need to have any lessons from Link to know that this person did not deserve any mercy when she caught up with him.
She sprang from their hiding place, ready to pounce, but heard Link's voice from behind. "Zayna! This way!"
She followed his gaze, noticing that the path sloped down and around, leading back on itself. Link slid down the slope, hoping to catch the rider off at a point further ahead. Cursing herself for not taking note of her surroundings and planning ahead, Zayna followed him down, watching the blur of the horse through the gaps in the trees, like the flicker of the moon's reflection on calm waves.
They reached the bottom and Link flipped his hookshot out from his belt. Zayna watched the path intently, tensing as she awaited the rider's arrival. A shuffle of movement, and the girl was there, running with short, frantic breaths. Link poised his finger above the hookshot's activation key.
The girl passed them without noticing their presence and suddenly the rider appeared, bounding after her with furious strides. Link waited, waited…and then let the spike free, watching as it dug into a tree opposite them. The rider tried to rein his horse in, but it was too late. He collided straight into the hookshot's chain, flying off his horse and landing in a heap.
The trio ran up to the girl. "Are you alright?" Zayna asked, crouching down beside the small child. She grinned back at them, the look in her eyes making Zayna feel distinctly uncomfortable. Something swirled in them, something not tethered to the world. Zayna wondered if she had been abused by her pursuer or if something more horrific had occurred. Feeling her anger rise, Zayna tried to reach for her, but the girl stepped away.
And then the forest became alive. Bowstrings tightened with a twang, and the whisper of unsheathed blades rained in around them. Swarming out from hidden places in the trees, armoured soldiers surrounded them, their swords waving menacingly. They were more Hylian in appearance than Freelander.
Zayna raised her own sword, snarling in anger, her feet spinning in the earth as she tried to cover all angles. Chitz clung to her leg fearfully.
She glanced at Link, but he shook his head slightly. Reaching over, he pushed her sword down. "Not now," he whispered, his voice strangely calm. "They've won this one."
The fallen rider got to his feet and strode towards them, the other soldiers making a path for him. The rider removed the mask, revealing the features of a grinning woman with dark hair and eyes that sparkled dangerously. She snapped her fingers and the girl ran to her, letting herself be swallowed in the woman's embrace.
"What do you want with us?" Link asked, his face neutral, and his eyes hard. He looked around, taking in his surroundings, Zayna hoping that his keen mind was planning some sort of escape. She swallowed, looking around at all the stares aimed at them. None shone with the light of mercy.
The woman stroked the little girl's hair. "I'll decide that later," she said. "But for now, you three are the prisoners of Milledra, the Queen of the Dead."