Chapter 5
The guard fell to his knees, his face contorted in pain, then slumped to the ground, the poison tightening his veins like a vice. Link patted his belt, feeling the small packets of powder therein. An assassin had to be prepared for everything. Sometimes the direct route was not the best method and so all of them carried various toxins on their person, along with other useful accessories.
Running forward on his toes, the tapping of his boots faint, Link pulled free a pair of glinting, silver stars, the points curved into sharp-edged tips. He pressed himself flat against the cold, stone wall of the building, his eyes darting left and right, scanning the darkness. His heart and mind were focused and sharp, funnelling in on his goal. He inched closer to the door, spying a dark shape approaching from the other side. Link didn't have to think twice to know it was Jonah, his movements in perfect synchronisation with his friend's. It was comforting to know that he could trust entirely in his fellow assassin, the easy familiarity between the two born from summers of experience. Link grinned. This would be easy.
Jonah's crossbow fired, splintering the lock. Link dived and rolled as the door swung open, throwing his stars into the yawning opening. They flashed in the moonlight, buzzing through the air like angry insects. He heard two soft, dull thuds and nodded to himself, satisfied that they had reached their targets. Snapping his head back, he looked towards a pair of large, old trees, their branches rustling in the soft breeze. With two short whistles, he called to the others.
Rivero, Kisho and Montero dropped from the leaves, each of them landing in a crouch. With hurried, but careful steps, the trio made their way over to the younger men. Link watched the King cautiously, knowing that this run was for his benefit. So far, Montero had carried himself well, his movements agile and confident. There was no time to ponder any further as Kisho gestured for them to enter with a quick flick of his hand.
"Get it over and done quick," Rivero grumbled as Jonah and Link slipped inside. "The wife's got something special cooking tonight, and I need to get home as fast as I can."
Link was struck by a eerie sense of desolation as he heard the words, realising all of a sudden how little he knew about his teammates. He had not known that the big man was married. In fact, he didn't know what the others did outside of their duties. As he chewed on the thought some more, he realised that the only one of them that knew he even had a sister was Jonah. Somehow, Link tried to picture Rivero's wife in his mind, wondering what kind of woman could bear to live with an assassin. Did she even know what he did? Of course, she must. He felt a disquieting knot of doubt in his heart. What about when it came to be his own turn for marriage? Would he find anyone who would endure a day-to-day existence knowing that he might never come back? At that instant he knew what Mystral must go through every time he went out on a mission, knew now why she always looked so tired and beaten. It sickened him.
As they ran through the building, pausing to hide behind walls and check the area, Link felt himself gripped by a wall of isolation. He no longer felt at ease with his fellow assassins, so much of their lives hidden from him.
"Link!" Jonah hissed. "Concentrate!"
He glanced up, catching the frantic look in his friend's wide eyes, mixed with a glaze of concern. Link nodded, feeling a little comforted. Despite everything, he knew they were always looking out for one another. He paused, letting himself hear the thudding of his heart and feel the breeze tugging at his hair, and wondered why, all of a sudden, he had been plagued with doubts recently. Weariness weighed down on his eyes like hot coals, and he desperately searched for the calm centre in his soul. Let your heart grow cold. Instantly the mantra worked, and he felt strength flow through his body, rejuvenating him, as though someone had splashed him with icy cold water. His gaze shifted ahead as he heard the footsteps of the others approach, imperceptible to anyone else, but clear to his assassin's ears. Montero's was the loudest, not having learnt how to move stealthily.
Link felt Kisho clasp him on the shoulder as they all peered forward down the narrow, richly-carpeted hallway. There was silence, save for the tiny jingling of their weapons as the hanging crossbows shifted minutely in time with the assassins' movements. Link saw the Commander's eyes narrow, knowing that even that slight betrayal of noise was too loud. They had been trained to move as silently as a short, sharp breath. Their eyes moved upwards, seeing the darkened balcony above that ran alongside the passageway. Long, thick ropes were tied lengthways to the ceiling, and attached to the centre of the roof. They were set there to keep in place the lush material that was pinned to the ceiling as a decoration, velvety like the petals of a rose.
"They'll be up there, then," Rivero said, rubbing at his nose. "Need a distraction."
Link, determination still honing his mind, sprang to his feet. He saw the glimmer of an opportunity to blot out the mistake he had made on his Test. "This is mine."
Before anyone could stop him, the young assassin had his crossbow ready, an arrow in place, and firing. The sharp steel tip snapped through one edge of the rope above with a twang as Link ran out into the hallway, hearing the rustle of movement from the balcony. He held his position, knowing that he was exposed for an instant. He saw the dark blurs above and waited, waited as the rope whispered its way downward.
Finally, the rope reached him and his fingers curled around its leathery surface, just after he locked three arrows into place in his weapon. He let his body go limp and the cord tugged him upwards as it made its return swing. The wind screamed in his ears, the narrow hallway hurtling past him. He had to fight to catch his breath, but the exhilaration was intoxicating. He held his crossbow steady, knowing that he'd catch their targets by surprise. Slowing as he reached the ceiling, Link paused, his eyes quickly scanning the balcony for dark, irregular shapes that would betray the ambushers' position. Twisting, he fired, jerked his hand, fired again, and twisted once more, hitting the last one, all in rapid fashion before the rope swung back downwards. He heard their surprised gasps and smiled, satisfied.
Abruptly, he was jolted to one side, and he looked up, seeing arrows strike the cord. Another came, and he was flung into the wall, shooting pains reeling through his shoulder. A gust of wind pushed past his face and he saw Jonah, riding his Glimmer Bird, firing at the unseen assailants. Link hung in the air, spinning, as his friend finished them off.
Jonah turned the bird slowly around towards Link and he hovered under him, letting the youngster drop down to safety.
"You should have just used Bannock," Jonah said with a smile. "Nice trick though."
Link grinned as they swooped down towards the others who were running to the door at the end of the hallway. He looked up at his friend, glad for his assistance. Brothers for eternity.
The bird curled its wings as they flew through the now-open door and entered a large chamber, spying a lone man sitting at a large banquet table, his guards lying motionless around him. The assassins had him surrounded and Montero, pulling the man's head back with a fistful of hair, had a knife to his neck. Jonah and Link fell to the ground in a run as the Glimmer Bird reverted back to its capsule form.
"Well, that was entertaining," the King said, grinning.
They all turned to the sound of someone slowly clapping, and a figure stepped out of the corner. Link's heart froze when the person revealed himself.
Servion Boarhound.
The Hylian Chief, giving Link a brief, but meaningful glance, bowed slightly in front of the King. "That was magnificent, Your Highness," he murmured, a picture of humility. Link eyed him with suspicion. There was even a glint in Commander Kisho's eye.
"Ah…" the Commander said, searching for the correct words. "It was a good start, Your Highness." He was speaking slowly, trying to be careful as he picked his words. "Obviously, it won't always be as easy as this."
Montero waved them away. "No need to sweeten your words," he said with a mild growl. "It was just an exercise, nothing more." Link jerked as the King's gaze came to rest on him. "Servion, it seems your fellow Hylian here has a good mind. That was an interesting manoeuvre, boy."
Link swallowed, glancing at the Chief, wondering what he would say. It made him feel uneasy, though not as much as the realisation that Servion now knew that he was an assassin. What would the Chief say to his compatriots? "Thank you," Link mumbled. "Your Highness," he added in haste.
"Yes, yes," Servion said, stroking his chin. "Link here is…well-known…for thinking fast on his feet." He turned to the King. "In fact, Your Highness, if you remember, we have discussed him before."
Montero nodded and Link frowned automatically. Why would the either of them want to talk about him?
"Indeed," the King said. Link noticed that there was a trace of distaste in his voice whenever he addressed either Servion or himself. "He is everything you said he is."
There were confused looks from the other three assassins and Link could only shrug slightly in response.
"In fact," the Chief continued. "Before we discuss tomorrow night's…ah…mission, I would like to have a word with the young lad."
"By all means," Montero said, nodding, before he turned to Kisho and Rivero to engage them in conversation. The whole exercise had been nothing more than a practise run; the targets heavily armoured to protect them from the arrows and the poison faked, though its effects were well mimicked by the guard. It was Kisho's idea of a 'gentle' introduction for the King to the world that they lived in.
Link held his ground as Servion approached, and tried to keep his face blank, despite the disquiet he felt within. He searched the Chief's eyes, noticing, with a hint of surprise, the softness he saw there. Servion stopped in front of him with a smile, before laying one hand on his shoulder.
"Link," he said softly. "It seems I owe you an apology."
The young man's eyes narrowed, his heart caught halfway between hope and suspicion. "Apology?"
"Yes," the Chief said with a sigh. "What happened the other night at the Meeting House, it was a terrible mistake." He shook his head as though he had received an epiphany, and his face took on a chastened, repentant expression. "I was caught up in my emotions and tried to drag everyone down with me. I used two innocent scapegoats to satisfy my need for vengeance." The Chief looked up, his eyes wide and intense. "It was you, lad. You made me see sense." He chuckled, laying his head on Link's forehead. The younger man kept his composure, despite feeling distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. That's all I wanted to say. I'm sorry." Finishing his words with a smile, he stepped back, reaching for his belt.
Link studied the Chief's face carefully. He certainly looked sincere, and Link saw no need to doubt him. What if it had been all just a mistake? Still. What happened had been a little extreme.
His thoughts vanished as Servion pulled a long, glittering necklace of pearls from his belt. "For your sister," the Chief said, holding the gift out. "In case I said anything to you that might have been…ah…misinterpreted."
Instantly, Link was ready to forgive the man. Anyone that showed Mystral an act of kindness, no matter how small, was always considered near-heroic in Link's eyes. Grinning, he took the necklace, rolling the smooth, cream-coloured spheres under his fingers. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
Servion's smile grew wider. "You're a good lad."
"But…" Link said, feeling nervous once more. "Now you know what I do."
The Chief looked at him carefully. "Link, I'm glad that we have people like you. People who can defend our people against threats." He paused, and something flickered in his eyes. "In fact, there's a specific reason why I'm here. There are some raiders from outside the town, entering the Hylian Quarter and stealing our livestock. Sometimes, they even run off with young girls." He looked down as if the thought was too horrendous. "Who knows that they do with them?" The Chief left the thought hanging in the air, until Link could feel his blood freeze as cold anger rose in his heart.
"What does this have to do with us?" Link said.
Servion sighed. "We've pinpointed one of their hideouts," he said. "Would you believe they have one situated in our Quarter itself? The arrogance of the people." The Chief shook his head again. "Anyway, I've arranged with the King to send your squadron in. He will be joining you on the mission tomorrow night." He clasped Link's shoulder again and fixed his eyes on the young man again. "Make us proud, Link. Make us proud."
Link felt something surge within him, patriotism, pride, he couldn't tell which. All he knew was that justice had to be served and his squadron would be the one to do it. Once again, he felt a twinge of disgust against those that said that assassins did no good in the world. He still felt a little uneasy towards the Chief, but something inside him realised that his good standing with his fellow Hylians would be restored if he made peace with Servion. At the moment, he would walk around the Hylian Quarter with his hurried steps and his head down, trying to ignore the pointed stares and the whispered insults that were still loud enough for him to hear. At a loss for words, Link could only nod to his Chief, his mind eager to start the mission.
...
Mystral sat at the old, wooden table, a steaming mug within her hands, as dawn's early light warmed her face. She smiled. The table was cheap, and the other women she knew would look down on her for owning it, but Mystral remembered a time when they had to use a dirty, torn cloth to eat from, their parents leaving them with little when they had died. It had been a difficult time, bringing up her baby brother. She missed the old times, days when she could go out to the fields around the town with her friends, their eyes sparkling as they shyly watched potential suitors approach them armed with grins and flowers.
Now, of course, no man approached her. The long nights trying to soothe a crying baby Link had drained her face and hair of their colour. There was no longer a twinkle in her eyes; instead, she had spent every waking moment wondering when their next meal was going to come. Then, the King had entered their life, giving Link a new lease on life by having him end the lives of others.
She sipped her drink, sighing at the irony of it all. Mystral still spent every waking moment worrying. No longer having to feel concerned about food and clothes, something she was eternally grateful for, she now had to endure the twisting of her heart as she waited in agony in case Link would no longer come home. More than that, though, was the fear, cold and curling around her heart, that he would come home, but changed. Already he was a distant young man, brooding more than others of his age. Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered the grinning and happy baby brother she once had, now transformed into this confident, calculating teen that had an aura of power that made her shiver. Sometimes there was a cold edge to him too, though, thankfully, he was anything but emotionless towards her. She wondered how long that would last.
Mystral heard the front door open with a snap and her body sagged with relief, the knot in her heart untying, a knot she hadn't even realised it was there. She let out a deep breath, and she could almost feel the wrinkles form on her skin and her hair turn grey. How long could she live like this? Mama, Papa, why did you have to leave us? She caught herself, pushing the moment of weakness away with an ember of anger. They were both strong and they had survived this far. Sometimes, she noted, that other Hylians would look at them both with a far-away look, envious of the closeness of their bond. It was more than most people had, and Mystral was glad. She knew of a lot of wealthy families whose members barely spoke to one another, enjoying instead the company of their expensive trinkets. Mystral pitied them.
Link approached her, but she made a point of keeping her face straight and ignoring him. She was happy that he was home and safe, of course, but she always wanted to remind him of how much she disapproved of his role in life. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Link had an extra spring in his step. She didn't like the look of that. What was he up to? He made his way round to the back of her chair and she felt his hands approach her neck. Involuntarily, she flinched, thinking that he'd finally snapped, but felt a little shamed as she saw him hesitate in response to her reaction.
She waited. Finally, she felt something cold settle on her neck, and heard something click. She looked down, gasping as she caught sight of the necklace.
"Link," she said, a mixture of awe and suspicion in her voice. "Where did you get this from?" Her fingers reached up to touch the pearls, despite her reservations.
"A gift for you," he replied with a smile. "From the Chief."
Mystral glanced up at him, confused. "The Chief gave you a gift?" she asked uncertainly.
"Yes," he said, moving away to fetch a mug for himself. "He's not a bad man, really."
His voice thinned a little as he said that and Mystral thought she could detect a trace of doubt. She sucked on her lower lip, deep in thought. "You didn't seem to think that the other night."
Link filled his mug with water, before turning to her, taking a sip. He ran one hand through his thick, blond hair, a sharp contrast to the dark tunic that was wrapped around his body. The gesture tugged at heart, reminding her of when she would ruffle his head as a child or stroke his hair whenever had been upset and tearful. She studied him once more, noticing that, despite his slender build, he still gave off an impression of great physical strength. He was probably, she noted with a wince of bitterness, very good at what he did. She wouldn't know, however, having refused to talk to him in detail about it.
"He apologised." Link continued. "Said he had been caught up in his emotions."
She saw his face flicker with hesitation. "What is it?" she asked, already dreading the answer.
"He knows what I do," Link said carefully, since Mystral had banned the word 'assassin' from her house. "We have a job for him tonight."
She closed her eyes, feeling the heat of tears. Her heart felt like it would drown in misery. She sighed.
"I'm sorry," he continued, surprising Mystral. Her brother had never apologised for what he did before. "What did you do last night?"
"I met some friends," she said, her voice weary. She couldn't muster up enough enthusiasm to continue the conversation any more. He was safe and that was all that mattered. "Looked over some new designs with them. We've been meeting every night this week. I'm going to Jeena's house tonight." She didn't really enjoy the company of the other women, finding them a little too shallow, but it kept her mind from worrying too much about Link. "It's just across the street," she added, trying to reassure him.
He nodded, moving away. Mystral could tell from his posture that he was tired and was heading to bed.
"Link," she said softly, making him pause. "Thank you for this." She stoked the necklace. He smiled in response, and their eyes locked, the same sadness and tenderness reflected in both their faces. "And, be careful."
...
Sheik and Kafei walked through the bustling mid-day crowds, each carrying an armful of supplies. Waves of heat baked the streets, melting the ice and lowering tolerance levels. Sheik would find herself scowling in exasperation whenever someone bumped into her, the itch of irritation dampening her spirits. It was still the middle of winter, and the weather was unusual, but neither of them had time to ponder on it. One of their relatives had worked extra hard for their employer, earning himself a bonus which the two of them had now used to buy more food and clothes.
The ground was coated in mud, a mixture of melted ice and dirt, and Sheik had to be careful about how she stepped in case she slipped. As casually as they could, they broke away from the main crowd, slipping down into the narrow alleyway that led home. The smell of decay assaulted their senses, but they were used to it, just as they were familiar with the scavenging animals that scurried out of their path.
"Nice day for a celebration," Kafei said with a grin as they dodged the broken debris on the ground.
Sheik glanced at him, offering only a smile. She looked down at the supplies she carried, the clarified butter, the bread still hot from the oven, and the few strips of red meat. It wasn't much, but it was always a reason for the Harkinians to rejoice. They stopped in front of the half-hidden door without looking up, and Sheik nudged at it with her elbow.
For a moment she didn't even realise what had happened, and only Kafei's gasp made her snap her head towards the entrance. The door had slowly swung open with a creak.
Sheik's mouth instantly dried and fear curled up from her gut. Kafei had already barged past her, dropping his supplies. Sheik stepped in after him slowly, her eyes glancing down to the jagged hole in the door where the lock was supposed to have been. The air was thick and suffocating as she set down her provisions. Something splashed under her feet. Swallowing, the dread making her heart thud, she looked down. A thin layer of blood, diluted with melted ice, coated the floor.
Her head began to swim as she moved in further, only one thought pounding in her head in time to her pulse. They found us. I don't know how, but they found us. She grit her teeth, trying to keep the notion from breaking free into a hysterical rant. It was then that she noticed the smell. Raw with decay like uncooked meat that had been left out too long, it was stronger than the stench from outside. Kafei had already entered the main guestroom, the place where she had met with the Princess the night after the attack.
Sheik pushed the door open, her head feeling light as though she were in a dream. For a bitter moment, she wished that this was exactly that, a blurry illusion that would fade as soon as she awoke. What she saw tightened her heart so much that she thought it would burst from the ache. Like dead and decaying logs, the remaining Harkinians were piled up high to the ceiling, their faces twisted with fear and pain, their eyes still open, the anger and fury still evident. Blood dripped to the carpet in slow, soft thuds.
She recognised some of them and that just made the grief grow. Here, Cassandra Harkinian, old and withered, who had once taken Sheik to the forests as a child to pick berries. There was Mikrael, a young, handsome man with honey coloured hair who would tease her about her disguise, claiming that she'd never catch a husband if she covered herself up, while she had protested indignantly, saying that she didn't need to be immodest to be wed and, besides, she was still young. His hair was torn now, and dyed red. She felt a breath of satisfaction upon her heart, seeing the ferocious look on Mikrael's face and the many wounds, gaping and puckered, that stared back from his body. At least, she knew, they had put up a fight. So many faces, so many lives, now nothing more than butchered flesh, cold and empty, skin hardening and streams of blood drying.
Desperately trying to control her breathing, Sheik swallowed big, gasping gulps of air as she fell to her knees, whimpering. Kafei stood still, the muscles in his cheek and arms twitching. His eyes were hard and glazed with pain.
"Animals," he barked, his voice raspy and tight. He stepped forward, his eyes searching. Sheik realised with a distracted, dull feeling that he was searching for his wife and child. She felt her heart spike with pain.
"Somebody must have escaped," Kafei whispered as he looked over the corpses. "Somebody, anybody." His voice started to rise and Sheik watched carefully, dumbstruck. "Somebody! Please!" He was growling now, and he struck his hand against one wall, rattling the paintings that hung there.
Suddenly Sheik averted her eyes, not wanting to see the either the horrific sight of baby Hobert in the pile of corpses or to see Kafei break down and sob like she knew he was going to. Something shifted in a corner. She froze, feeling her heart lurch. Someone was still alive.
"Kafei," she said, her eyes directing him to the fallen relative. The older man looked up, seeing what she saw and they both rushed over to the man. He was lying back against the wall, his blood smeared there. The light was fading fast from his eyes, a trickle of red falling from the deep gash on his head. Large, puffy bruises decorated his face and she couldn't recognise straight away who he was. Sheik knew he wasn't going to live long and she had to bite down to keep herself from instinctively tearing off strips of her tunic to dress his wounds. Dully, in the back of her mind, she realised how callous her actions were, but she knew that, paradoxically, time was running out and they needed information.
Her fingers curled around the man's shirt. "The Princess," she barked, her voice insistent. "Where's the Princess?" Sheik hadn't noticed her body in the macabre heap and hope still fought against the grief in her heart.
"And Anju," Kafei growled. "Where are my wife and son?"
The man looked up at Kafei briefly, before turning back to face Sheik. "Some of us escaped," he croaked, the effort of speech obviously causing him pain.
Sheik saw Kafei's hand curl into a tightened fist. "I knew it!" he whispered, his trembling voice high with optimism. "Was my wife with them? Talk, man!"
"Kafei!" Sheik warned, glaring. "Give him time."
The elder man matched the intensity of her stare for an instant, before he backed off with a nod.
She looked back at the injured man. "The Princess," she said gently.
"Escaped," the man said. Sheik closed her eyes, and let out a deep breath. "But they didn't get far."
Her eyes snapped open. "What happened?"
"They managed to get outside," he said. "The Princess was captured." He looked up at Kafei. "And your wife and child. Others, too."
"Who did this?" Kafei asked, the anger and pain bubbling in his voice.
"Assassins," the man replied. His body was starting to sag, and Sheik winced, knowing she would witness his death. She felt sick. "I overheard them. They'll take the Princess and the others to the Castle." He swallowed, pinning his gaze on Sheik. "The assassins said it was one of us."
"One of us?" Sheik asked, confused.
He tried to nod, but ended up coughing violently. "One of us told them. Told them where we were."
Sheik saw the man's eyes light up for the last time, pinpricks of intensity shining therein. She opened her mouth, realising the accusation she saw there, but it was too late. With a blink and a sigh, he slid down the wall, his head rolling to one side as he slipped from life. Slowly, her hands shaking, Sheik stood up. She sensed Kafei reaching for her shoulder, but she jerked out of his grasp, turning on her heel and heading for the door.
Outside, she welcomed the openness of the air and the sun's light that warmed her face. Blinking away tears, she tried to think, to plan. Her soul felt numb and she knew nothing could fill the hollow pit in her heart. Everything and everyone that had defined her life had been ripped from her in one moment of madness. She wished she had been there with them, fighting to the last breath.
Sheik felt Kafei walk up slowly behind her. "What do we do?" he asked carefully.
It felt strange to her that he would ask her for advice, but it didn't bother her. She knew exactly what she wanted to do. Without realising it, her gaze drifted to the Castle and she felt something ignite in her heart, burning fiercely.
"We rescue the Princess."
...
Link wondered if he only ever really lived at night. Darkness shrouded him again, his squadron surrounding the barren, wooden building that stood, silent and still, in a deserted part of the Hylian Quarter. Lights shone from the inside, the glow coating the glass windows like syrup. Link swallowed, trying to ease his tightened throat. His heart felt abnormally enlarged, each thud ending in a painful tremor. He reached down, taking a handful of soil into his fingers and letting it crumble. The cold, hard sensation reminded him that this was very real.
This was it. His first real kill. His heart trembled again in response to the thought. They were all waiting, crouched, as they spied Jonah walking towards the door, his footsteps light, his back bent. He looked like a black blur, moving swiftly and silently. Link's thoughts drifted, remembering his previous missions. Only three hits under his belt, and all those had been easy ones, striking the target from a distance and melting away into the shadows. He had been cushioned in those operations, the rest of the squadron doing all the hard work and keeping him well-protected.
Link released a breath, rubbing the palm of his hand on his tunic to wipe off the sweat. Despite the heat on his skin, the air was chilly and biting, a far cry from the warmth from earlier in the day. The temperature had dropped so rapidly that soft flakes of snow were floating in the wind, buffeted to and fro. It was strange; this sudden change in the climate, but Link had bigger things to worry about. He swallowed again, but his mouth was too dry.
Rivero glanced over at him. "The boy's getting jitters, Commander."
Kisho and Montero turned towards him, and Link felt his mouth twitch, annoyed that the big man had pointed out his weakness so easily. Link noticed the lines on the Commander's face and the worried expression that hung there. He knew that Kisho concerns weren't directed at him. Rather, the Commander was anxious to keep the King, who had insisted on joining them, safe on this mission. If anything happened to Montero the entire squadron would bear the brunt of it.
"Link," Kisho said softly and quietly. "You can wait here if you want. You don't have to do this."
Link hissed inwardly. That was the last thing he wanted. "No," he replied firmly. "I'm with you."
"He might be a liability," Rivero said, and again Link felt his anger flare. The older man was talking as though Link weren't even there.
Kisho cut the big man off with a glare. "If he said he can do it, then he can do it."
Link tried to keep the smile from his face, but failed. He felt himself relax, pleased that his Commander had faith in him. Not for the first time in his life, Link felt a wave of love for Kisho. He noticed, though, that the King was eyeing him with mild interest. Link kept his gaze away, trying not to show how uncomfortable he felt about that.
Jonah's shrill whistle made them look up. The door was open and the young man was waiting.
Kisho turned to them. "Remember, quick and silent," he said. "Rivero and I will head up to the upper level and shoot out the lanterns from there. Then we'll have the element of surprise and the cover of darkness." He tensed, pausing to run his finger down the bowstring of his crossbow. "The lanterns are set up high on one side of the room, or so Servion told us. We won't be able to see the targets from our position, just the lights. The rest of you," and here he turned to Link and the King, "will enter the main Hall and kill as many of the men as possible. You do not have to get all of them. Straight in, straight out. Understand?"
Link nodded, a heavy weight settling on his heart. He tried to calm his breath, but the knot in his gut wouldn't loosen. He understood Kisho's haste. The Commander wanted to keep the King protected, just like they had shielded Link on earlier missions. At the same time, he did not want to offend Montero by leaving him off the more 'dirtier' end of the operation.
Kisho gave them one last look. "Go!"
They ran, exposed to the open air for the briefest of moments, their boots snapping fallen branches and cracking tiny pools of ice. Link still couldn't control the thudding of his heart and he knew that, this time, the assassins' mantra would not work. They caught up to Jonah and they entered the building without slowing, the younger man spinning on his heel to match their pace. Rivero and Kisho peeled off from them, making their way to a ladder perched against a wall on one side. The other three continued running, slipping down the twisting hallways that led to the main hall in the centre.
The building was bare, no carpets, no decorations. It was constructed entirely out of wood, chipped and stained from age. An old, musty smell hung in the air, as though the building had been uninhabited for a long time. Link supposed that that was the exact impression the raiders wanted to give to outsiders to blunt any curiosity. Lanterns hung on hooks high on the walls, the metal containers blackened and bent after many summers of use. Link and Jonah kept their feet light, their boots making soft thuds against the wooden boards. Montero, though, still wasn't so subtle, and Link winced, wondering if the thumps of the King's boots would give their presence away. Then again, he realised, it was still very quiet in the building.
An opening appeared up ahead in the wall, a door that had been left open.
Jonah snapped his head towards Link. "Roll," he barked in a harsh whisper. "Cover."
Link nodded, knowing exactly what he had to do. Twirling his crossbow up from his belt and into his hand, he dived ahead, as the other two men skidded to a halt. He hit the ground in front of the opening with a roll, his eyes and weapon swinging towards the open door, scanning quickly. His trigger finger was ready for the slightest hint of danger. He saw only inky darkness.
Springing himself back to his feet, Link pressed his back against the wall, ignoring the dull throb of his protesting muscles. His eyes met Jonah's, and he gave his friend a small nod. "Safe."
Jonah returned the gesture, holding Link's gaze for an instant. The younger assassin saw the light of pride in his friend's eyes and he smiled, the connection between the two men strengthened. Jonah and King ran over to him, and Link whirled around to fall into their sprint. Action had melted Link's doubts and fears away, like iron purified in a blazing fire. His movements were fluid now, every step he took spurred on by surging determination. He was enjoying himself, and he felt the frown from his face fall away. Everything was going smoothly. This wouldn't be like his Test at all.
They saw the light of the main hall fall on the floor ahead of them, and they knew they were nearing their targets. Link heard the hum of modified crossbows beside him, and he knew that Jonah and the King were preparing themselves. Flicking a switch, Link felt his weapon whirr comfortably, the string snapping tight with a twang, the burning stench of explosive powder floating in the air. Reaching back, he pulled free a handful of arrows, locking them into place in the tiny grooves within the bowstring. The modified crossbow was a lot different from the ancient bows that Link admired so much. They packed a lot more power for one thing, and could grip arrows in place without fear of them falling or coming loose.
Link looked up as he heard the rhythmic crack and pop of arrows breaking through lanterns up ahead. Rivero and Kisho. One by one, the lights faded, and darkness crawled over the room like a cloak. Link caught sight of one lantern, the blue flame curling into the air, before evaporating, extinguished. He frowned. There were no shouts of surprise from up ahead. No cries of alarm. It was eerily quiet.
Finally, the room went black and Jonah and the King darted ahead, the silence obviously not concerning them. Link followed them, a little more cautiously as his uneasiness returned, adjusting his sight to adapt to the darkness. He pushed his doubts away once more, putting them down to nervousness. Maybe Rivero was right; maybe he was just too jittery. His training had taught him to identify targets where there was little or no light, and his eyes trailed across the large room now, picking out the dark, squirming shapes. He held his arm out straight now, slowly swinging his crossbow from left to right.
Bubbles of orange flame burst in and out of the darkness and he heard the buzz of arrows as they flew free. Jonah and Montero were firing, and Link saw the murky shapes fall one by one, all too easily. The sound of the weapons sounded far too loud in his ears. But what bothered him more was the reaction of the raiders. Why weren't they screaming?
"Link." He heard Jonah's voice float over to him. "Fire!"
Taking in a deep breath, Link tightened his grip on his weapon. He focused on one of the shapes, cowering in one corner. A trickle of doubt curled through his heart like ice. Why, if they were such fearless raiders, were they not fighting back?
"Link!"
The urgency in his friend's voice made Link panic. He grit his teeth, trying to make the world and his thoughts fade away. Aiming at the shape, Link curled his finger around the trigger. Let your heart grow cold.
It didn't work. Instead, paralysis clutched his soul, sucking him down, dizzying him. He growled, pushing away the rising bile in his throat. He would not let himself weaken. He would not.
The twang of a string following into a hum as the arrows continued to fly. There were still no screams, only the bubbling gurgles of pain mixed with soft gasps. Something about the latter struck the young assassin as odd.
Link pushed on the trigger so hard that it sent a sliver of pain through his hand. His arm recoiled from the shot, the arrow screaming through the air, the wisp of smoke tickling his nose. He tasted sweet satisfaction in his mouth as the arrow pierced the raider's torso with a wet thud. The raider staggered back, his arms whirling, before he fell to the ground. He shuffled on the ground, still alive. Link strangely felt no desire to finish him off.
Swinging the weapon around, Link picked out another target, aimed, and fired. The raider was thrown back by the force of the arrow, hitting the floor with a crunch. Again, Link saw the man's body jerk, life still kicking inside of him. Link felt his heart deflate everytime he wanted to push on and end the man's life, as if there were tiny claws pulling his heart away from his intentions. It felt as though he could only go so far. It didn't matter. This was more than he had managed on his Test and the raider would think twice before he continued on his destructive path in life. It was easier now, and he felt a dark thrill in his heart. His mouth curled into a smile, a throaty chuckle breaking free. The raiders would learn a lesson this day. No longer would they force their twisted and corrupt hearts onto innocent Hylians. And yet, something screamed at him from the back of his mind. One word, rolling around and around. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!
"Over there." It was Montero's voice. "By the far wall. Someone is trying to escape."
Link looked ahead, seeing the shape trying to scramble to safety. Briefly, he wondered how the King could see in the darkness, despite not having any formal training yet. Letting his distractions float free from his mind, Link aimed. The orange flash from his crossbow propelled the arrow ahead, spinning, and he saw it strike the raider on his shoulder, pushing him back, before finally pinning him to the wall.
Link spat, trying to remove the coppery taste from his mouth. A door splintered into dust on the far side, and the hall was suddenly flooded with light as a horde of men entered, each carrying a lantern.
The young assassin jerked when he saw their faces. Then, as more and more lanterns lit up the room, his heart lurched as the scene revealed itself. He took a shaky step backwards, his arm and mouth dropping down. Link tried to breathe, but his throat tightened, suffocating him. Suddenly, there wasn't enough air in the massive room.
Lying on the floor in front of him, blood and arrows coating their bodies, were not any raiders, oh no. There weren't even any men. They were all women.
Hylian women.
His vision blurred as burning tears flooded his eyes. The muscles in his legs cramped, seizing his entire body with pain. Link looked around him slowly, seeing the dead women, some of whom he recognised. Some were still moving, barely crawling over to the men that had entered, and Link knew, with a slightest glimmer of relief, that they were the ones he had struck. No one had died because of his actions. At least, not yet. At the back of his mind, he acknowledged that both Jonah and Montero had gone, leaving him in a room full of injured, blood soaked women, while he alone carried a crossbow.
Instinctively, Link searched out the one he had pinned to the wall, his mind, frozen with dread, already knowing who it would be. He let out a moan as his eyes fell on her face. Her beautiful, kind, loving face.
"Mystral!" he cried. Her eyes were closed, and her skin pale. His arrow had neatly pierced her just under her shoulder, letting free a small flood of wet blood. Tears fell freely now and Link reached out a hand, stepping forward. The men turned to him, warning him off with a snarl. He saw Deak; his face a horrific picture of pure hatred, and Link stepped back, shaken and dazed. His heart hammered painfully in his chest, making him believe it would rip free from his chest and end his life. He almost wished it would. He took another step back as stares of hot venom pinned him, and the howls of bereaved husbands and sons sank into his soul.
His mind whirled, screaming with pain and confusion. What were the women doing here? They shouldn't be here! And where were the rest of his squadron?
Link's eyes searched the crowd of men for the Chief. His heart continued to beat faster and faster, sweat coating his skin and his arm trembled, his crossbow hanging loose in his hand. The others were barely paying him any attention as they rushed to their loved ones. He had to find Servion. The Chief would explain everything, would tell them that it was nothing more than a terrible mistake.
At last Servion appeared, his face ashen and his eyes cold. Link's heart bubbled with hope, and he waited, eager for the Chief to speak. Servion threw Link a disgusted glance. "It seems as though one of us has misgivings about killing pathetic Calatians, but little qualms over killing Hylians," the Chief said with a snarl. "Women too. How brave."
The words pounded at Link's head, and he could make no sense of them. The world blurred around him, making him feel lightheated. He felt his throat start to retch, but he clenched his muscles, trying to keep everything still. There was only one thing that mattered to him now. There was only one thing that he could focus on.
He glanced up at his sister's face again, the all-too-still expression on her face making his heart crack. She shouldn't be like this. She should be up and about, scolding him for not doing his chores, smiling at him, talking, anything.
"Mystral," he croaked in a whisper.
This time the men did notice him, and they stood, freeing their daggers from their scabbards. Servion hissed at him, fixing Link with a narrow-eyed stare. The Chief's mouth curled into a wide, almost insane, grin.
"You better run, boy."