Chapter 14
Kafei let himself be shoved along with the others. Though their hands and feet were unbound, their captors were heavily armed and violently pushed them up the dusty, stone stairs. Their footsteps rang out in the narrow, dimly lit passageway. He kept Anju close to him, his wife's eyes glinting angrily whenever the guards pushed her and the baby too hard. A sour skin enveloped Kafei's heart. What had he dragged his family into?
The door at the top of the stairs opened, and they burst out onto the roof of the castle, letting winter's chill air flow over all of them. Torches burned on two of the walls that hemmed the roof in. Looking up, he noticed that the sky was smudged grey as the sun began its descent. A thick, luxurious carpet had been laid out on the floor, intricate patterns flowing all over the rich material. Hylian guards were everywhere, examining their blades and eyeing them suspiciously.
"What's happening?" Mystral asked, her voice small.
"I don't know," Ganondorf replied. He craned his neck forward. "It seems we have an audience."
Kafei followed his gaze. Sure enough, in the courtyard below, a throng of Hylians stood, their voices hushed and murmuring. "It looks like," he said, "that we're the central attraction in today's day of executions." Seeing Anju's horrified expression, he wished he hadn't said anything at all.
The King didn't help. "You're right," he said, his eyes cold. "He's going to kill us to cement his position as ruler."
Doubt made Ganondorf's forehead crease. "Then why didn't he do so earlier?" he said. "No. Something has changed. He has a different agenda here."
Kafei didn't care what the Hylian Chief's plans were. Warmth touched one side of his face, and he turned his head. A torch flickered close to where he stood, dripping ash. He glanced at it, then looked at the carpet. An idea snapped to life in his mind.
The buzz of chatter from the crowd melted away as Servion Boarhound made his appearance, his cloak freshly washed, his boots sparkling with polish. Two heavily armoured guards, their shining breastplates bulging from beneath their tunics, flanked him. Casting a lazy glance over the group, the Chief turned his attention towards the crowd. Kafei swallowed, and inched to the side. His face froze, his eyes desperately seeking any sign that he'd been noticed. Heart thumping slowly, he saw that everyone was too busy with Servion. He took another sidestep. The wind pulled at his hair, and sweat prickled his scalp.
"My friends," the Chief called. "My people." He paused, waiting for all the onlookers to give him their full attention. "Today…is the Day of Reckoning. Today, we shall take our revenge on those who have kept us under their heel for far too long." With a flourish, he swept his arm out and pointed at the two Gerudo. The crowd cheered. "Today…they die." His eyes flared, smouldering with passion as the people's enthusiasm grew. He knew what burned in their hearts, knew how to stoke it and bring it to the surface. Voice dropping slightly, he added: "And today, we find out why this heathen scum was able to dominate us so easily."
He took in a deep breath, drowning in the adulation that roared from the crowd. He glanced at one of the guards. "Executioner, are you ready?"
The Executioner flipped a sword in his hand, blade flashing. "I am." Another roar followed.
Servion clicked his fingers. "Bring forth the King."
"The King!" the crowd chanted. "Bring forth the King!"
The guards all shifted their attention to Montero and, in that instant, Kafei moved. Taking a deep breath to calm his jittery nerves, he took one final step, unhooked the torch from its holder, then flung it to the ground. A few shocked eyes caught him, but they were helpless to do anything. The flame caught the carpet with a whoomph, then billowed out across the floor in rapidly spreading waves. The guards panicked as smoke plumed into the air. Screams and confused shouts rung out from the crowd.
Kafei turned to the others, noticed their bewildered expressions. They looked lost, as though not sure what to do. Smoke drifted in-between them, and he lost sight of the women.
"What…?" Ganondorf gaped. "What's happening?"
"It's a chance!" Kafei snarled, his eyes searching for his wife. The guards, finally regaining their senses, swung their swords into position, their bodies tensing as they prepared to charge. "Use it!"
...
Link and Zelda walked north, following a narrow, barren trail through the forest that eventually widened out to merge into a wide valley, sprinkled with green grass, where winter flowers dared to peek out from the earth. Bannock flew, silent and invisible, above them, his wings flapping in a rhythmic leathery beat that disturbed the air and ruffled their tunics. The quiet sighs and mournful whistles of the slumbering forest animals gave way to the lonely buzz of solitary insects and the occasional whoop and cry of a bird passing overhead. The trees, their branches webbed with ice and frost, grew fewer in number as they travelled onwards; thick, wrinkled oaks fading into tall, thin silver-cloaked birches, until they, too, eventually all fell away, leaving a flat and level landscape.
It would have been easier, Link mused as he guided them to the banks of a bubbling, gurgling river, if they'd had a pair of horses. The Deku Tree, through means of rotted chests buried deep in the cavern floor, had provided them with coinage, and with it they had stopped for a night in a nearby village. There, they had purchased a fresh set of clothes, a pair of travel packs and some warm, freshly cooked food.
Link's mind drifted back to that night. As he had tried to find them separate rooms in the inn, a rowdy group of young men had entered, honing in on Zelda. Their keen wolf-like senses had, no doubt, made anything but a lone female melt away from their vision. His friend, to her credit, had kept her patience, pointedly ignoring the men's vulgar suggestions that rolled freely from their tongues, all the while making sure that her hand was hovering close to her daggers.
Link, on the other hand, had not quite had the same amount of icy self-control. He winced as he remembered the carnage they'd left behind, the shattered tables, the broken bones and the frothy liquid staining the walls. After making reparations for that, they hadn't had enough money left to buy any horses. He had considered using his Glimmer Bird as transport, but Bannock couldn't carry two people for over such a lengthy distance. Zelda had been curiously silent about the whole affair, not even hinting at it once.
His right hand, crudely wrapped with dirty fabric, began to throb. He could feel the scar from Zelda's knife with every step he took. The memory of his oath was a like a dull blur, fading away with each passing moment. Awe still struck his heart as he considered the weighty implications of what he had done. A few days ago he had been at the mouth of the prison complex wishing fervently for death. Now all he cared about was to cling to life, not for himself, of course, but to make certain that Zelda would remain unharmed. Her life, her eventual fate seemed grossly unfair to him, and reminded him of the hardships his sister had had to endure on a daily basis. Heat pumped into his heart. He may have failed Mystral, but he was not going to fail Zelda.
He frowned. Is this what his sister had to go through everyday? Her nights spent alone waiting for him to return from another mission, the lines carved into her once smooth face as a result – was it all for him? Another image flittered into his mind. The night of his Test came back, the memory of the woman and her child throwing herself in front of her husband so that Link and his squadron would not kill him. The emotions churning within him, keeping him awake at all hours - were they what 'normal' people always felt?
Despite everything, though, the same, taunting thought would haunt him time and time again, rolling around his head during moments of weakness. The idea that, no matter how hard he tried to protect her, at the end of the day Zelda had to die at his own hands. He closed his eyes, letting out a small breath. Pushing the traitorous notion to one side, he steeled his mind, not wanting to dwell on things that he still didn't have to face and, therefore, still had time to change.
"Link." Zelda's voice drifted over to him. He cocked his head to one side. Link was walking at a distance ahead of her, his right hand wrapped around his left wrist, the gender etiquettes of Hylian society too well-ingrained into him to ignore. Besides. He had to purify his heart, or at least attempt to do so. Surely chivalry in the company of a young woman was a step towards that? He hoped, with a surge of euphoric faith that blossomed urgently in his soul, that the One, Unseen would be pleased with him and would aid them on their path. It was a strange sensation, especially after summers of cold training at the hands of the Assassin's League.
"Yes?" he replied, his gaze returning the river at their side. The green-blue liquid rolled over the rocks and stumps littering the uneven riverbed, frothing at every little obstacle. Occasionally he would spy huge chunks of dirty black ice lazily riding the waves. It was certainly a lot warmer in this part of Greater Calatia. Things were a lot greener here, too, with flowers and leaves making regular appearances. Ahead he heard a low, steady rumble. Waterfall. The valley must dip into a larger one nearby. They would have to split from this trail soon.
"You still haven't told me why exactly you and your friends were looking for the Princess," she replied. It hurt Link to hear her. The vibrant sparkle that had given her voice such life when they had first met was now missing. Out of the corner of his eye, he flicked her a glance. He had wanted so much to know what she had looked like under her disguise, but now he wished the Tree had never taken it from her. Her face sagged, looking far older than her sixteen summers, and dark circles had taken root around her eyes. Link's heart spiked. He desperately wished to see her smile.
Stopping short, he pulled a scroll from his belt. The rustling parchment fluttered in the breeze as he unfurled it. "The weed gave me a map," he explained. "We'll be entering Bandit Country soon." He rubbed his nose, pondering. "Do you know anything about Bandits?"
Zelda shook her head. Link smiled in response, seeing an opportunity to put to good use his studies in the Assassin Academy. "Outlaws," he said. "They won't bother with us unless they want something."
Zelda's eyes narrowed. "And how does that make them different from any other person in the world?" She stepped a little forward. "What do they think of Hylians?"
"I don't know", he said. "They're a law unto themselves."
Link's eyes dropped to her belt. Her weapons dangled there, clinking against each other. She'd separated them, keeping most on one side. On the other side, a lone dagger hung, still stained with his blood. From time to time, Link would catch her tapping idly on the Oath Blade's hilt.
"Link," she continued. "My question?"
Sighing, the young Hylian rolled the scroll up. The steady trickle of water mixed with the wet sounds of the river animals croaking and spitting. "Fran and his insane friend Sahasrahla think I'm some sort of 'hero'," he said sourly. "It was like the weed said. Every one hundred summers this same prophecy is fulfilled over and over." He blinked, his voice dropping an octave. "It all just sounds so…unbelievable."
"It is strange," Zelda said softly, "that someone can be considered a 'Hero' for something he hasn't done yet."
Her words stung for some reason. He opened his mouth, wanting to vehemently argue his case that, yes, he truly was a 'Hero'. The sheer stupidity of the idea made his jaws snap shut quickly.
Zelda spoke again. "Sahasrahla." She seemed to be rolling the name around her tongue. "So others know of this…affair, then?"
Link studied the river again. "I don't know how much he knows." A faint smile crossed his lips. "It seems everyone knew, but the two of us." She moved to speak, but Link cut her off, motioning towards the water with his head. "You should take this chance to clean up. We don't know how long it'll be before we find the next friendly settlement." He glanced at her. "I promise I won't look." It was a weak attempt at humour, he knew. But he wanted to provoke some sort of reaction from her.
Nothing changed on Zelda's face. "Thank you," she said simply.
Closing his eyes, Link pursed his lips together. He wasn't going to let her do this. His vow of protection extended to both body and spirit, and he wasn't going to let her drag her soul down under a mountain of gloom. That's what Mystral had done for summers, and he hadn't ever lifted a finger to prevent it. His mind raced, searching for ideas. She had, for a few nights as they sat around a fire that gave off little warmth, spoken warmly about the stories she had been told as a child. Tales of far off places, of people filled with nobility and a staunch desire for the truth. Link had heard similar yarns when he was younger, too, but unlike Zelda he hadn't taken them to heart. This girl standing before him, however, had a deep attachment for the teachings she learned from them. She seemed, at least to him, to possess a yearning sense of spirituality which, though appearing naïve, his heart couldn't help but respond to. Strange, considering the circumstances in which he'd first met her.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, dragging him from his thoughts.
"A little," Link asked, surprised to see the concern on her face. "Why?"
There was a smile in her eyes, if not her face. Her eyes would dart to his injured hand every few seconds, as though she were fighting a battle to pull her gaze away. "I thought perhaps I could cook something." She glanced around, her hands on her hips. "If we could find something to cook and you could get a fire going."
He looked out across the valley, wondering what sort of animal called this place home. "I'll find something," he said. "Are you sure you want to?"
"Yes, well," she replied. Her face was hidden as she looked out at the river, and he couldn't tell what expression she wore. "Don't get too used to it."
Link frowned, unsure of her reaction. She caught him off-guard by looking directly at him. "What I mean is that I'd love to," she said. "But you have to help me."
A smile came to his lips. "Of course."
"What is it," she continued, "that you do exactly, Link?"
"Do?"
Zelda shrugged. "For livelihood," she said. "To put food on your family's table."
Briefly, he considered lying to her, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted her to trust him. "Mystral – that's my sister – she weaves dresses." He kept his gaze on her. "She's rewarded quite handsomely for the effort."
If she'd noticed that he had avoided her question, she didn't mention it. Zelda looked up, eyeing him curiously. "Your sister," she said. "Is that all you have of your family?" Her voice seemed to waver at the end.
Link stayed silent, carefully considering his answer. "Family to me," he said slowly, "is anyone I would give my life to keep safe." He looked at her directly. His heart thudded. "You are my family now."
Something flickered in her eyes. Once again, the mixture of fear and…something else, something he couldn't quite place…washed over her face. She looked distinctly uncomfortable for a heartbeat, then quickly composed herself. Link's heart fluttered. At least she'd reacted.
"You don't know me, Link," Zelda said, without malice.
It was, he realised, a valid point. Then again, it was about the third time she'd said that to him, and he began to wonder at what point she was going to let him get to know her better. The weed's words came back to him. The true heir to the Harkinian throne. "What about your family?" he asked. Perhaps if he could coax her into talking about something close to her heart it would release some of her tension.
Zelda turned away. "My family are dead." Her voice, already cold and empty, grew more haggard. "Probably the King's Assassins were responsible."
Something cold and clammy exploded in the deepest pit of Link's soul. He'd already come to the conclusion that everything everyone had told him in his entire life had been nothing more than lies or shadows of the truth. But now, for the first time, he was coming face to face with the consequences of a life ill spent. He felt nauseous, his mouth turning dry instantly. He'd begged the Deku Tree for justice, but, in truth, he himself had been the one spreading injustice, whether directly or indirectly, from the moment the King had taken him under his wing. There were too many things that he had to atone for. Too many things that had to be set right before he could be certain of Grace from Above.
Setting his eyes on the horizon, Link noticed the small, grey shapes of a pair of chaves darting through what remained of the grass. Leathery skin hiding tender flesh, chaves were considered quite the delicacy back in the city. "Would you like to hunt?"
"What?" Zelda said, mouth agape. "You want me to kill something?"
"For food," he replied. "You said that that was acceptable. Remember? On the rooftops of the city?" He unhooked his crossbow, flicking the switch. "Try it." He nodded at the chaves. "I'm in the mood for some stew."
Wearing a slightly sour look of distaste, she gingerly took the weapon from him. He threw her an arrow, then stepped aside as she took aim. The crossbow trembled in her hand as her mouth thinned into a tight line. She stood straight again, tested the weapon's weight, then aimed once more.
"Keep it steady," he whispered. "Feel the weapon. Become one with it." He tried to picture what she saw in her mind, tried to let everything but the two animals melt away. He crouched, his fingers touching his lips. "Concentrate. Concentrate."
Zelda's mouth twisted. "I can hardly concentrate when you're muttering nonsense in my ears, can I?" she barked.
Link laughed, stood, then stepped back. "Lady's discretion," he said, bowing his head.
Flicking him a quick glance, she turned her attention back to the chave. She licked her lips, narrowed her eyes, then fired. The crack of the weapon echoed in their ears, sending birds flying and the chave running. The arrow itself spun, twisted, then lodged itself into a lone tree in the distance.
Link whistled, smirking. "Now," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "If you were trying to aim for that bird over there," he gestured, "then that would have been quite a good shot."
Slowly, Zelda turned her head towards him, her eyes glinting. "Is that so?"
Thrusting the crossbow back into Link's arms, she took a step forward. Another step, and two daggers were twirling in her hands. A third, and she let them fly, twin shards of spinning silver tearing through the air. One caught the bird directly in its neck with a thunk, the hilt still vibrating. The other sliced through the remaining chave easily.
Link's jaw fell open.
"Now," she said, the corners of her mouth tugging. "Let's see how well you can cook, shall we?" Her lips trembled for a heartbeat. She lowered her head, trying to keep it all in, but failed, first snorting, then finally letting a laugh free.
Link grinned, a huge weight lifting from his heart. Finally! It was such a simple delight so see someone else's joy because of his actions. Sniffing, he wiped tears from his eyes. His laughter grew as Zelda sank to her knees, shaking with mirth. Then, just as soon as it had appeared, the amusement melted from her face, and her blue eyes widened in shock. Link frowned. Why was she staring at him like that? Was she angry with him now? Then the realisation struck him. She wasn't staring at him. She was staring past him.
Spinning on his heel, the young Hylian caught the whine of twin crossbows activating. Frost fell on Link's heart, and he had no time to think about how they had found Zelda and himself. "Run!"
Kisho and Rivero, coolly locking arrows into place, strode towards them as Zelda scrambled to her feet. "Link," the Commander growled. "You've ruined me, do you know that?" His eyes bubbled with fury. "I'm the laughing stock of our trade. Not only does one of my own men - a Hylian, no less, that I stuck my neck out to protect – turn out to be traitor, but he then manages to kill one of his teammates."
Link and Zelda stumbled over rocks and boulders, their boots creating deep gouges into the earth as they traced a path by the riverside. "What's he saying?" Zelda demanded, confusion dancing in her eyes. "What does he mean?" She dared to throw a glance backwards. "Those men were in the prison. Who are they?"
Seeing that his two former friends had picked up speed, the young Hylian flipped his weapon into his hand, his arm trembling from the backwash as he flicked the crossbow on. "It doesn't matter," he called back, his breath short and ragged. In a surreal moment, considering they were running for their lives, Link nervously hoped that the Commander wouldn't say anything that would jeopardise his friendship with Zelda. "Don't listen to him!"
"I was like a father to you!" Kisho screamed, raising his crossbow. "Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
Link jerked his head around, his boots slipping in the soil. "Jonah's already tried that trick," he shouted. "If you're not careful, you'll end up just like him."
Snarling, Kisho fired, his face illuminated briefly from the glow of ignited powder. His heart lurching, Link threw himself forward, bringing Zelda to the ground. They clattered into the damp soil, winded, the sharp edges of stone and broken twigs tearing into their tunics as the arrow hurtled harmlessly over their heads. Link fired back, a blind shot, and the burnt stench of the powder clung to the air. He pulled Zelda to her feet. "Keep going," he gasped.
They continued to run, following the winding riverbank. Link knew that if they drew away from the river, his two former friends would have them both out in the open. A pair of easy targets.
They sprinted into a small cluster of huddled trees, the trail ahead hidden. Branches scratched and clawed at their faces, the grassy scent of pine and leaves flooding their senses. Link could feel the duo at their heels now, his back prickling in the expectation that one of them, Rivero the likeliest, would curl his fingers around his tunic at any second now and force them all to stop.
Link spat, removing the metallic taste of fear from his mouth, then jumped over a small boulder in his path. Pivoting on his heels, he kicked, launching the rock spinning into air, and fired again. The boulder caught Kisho a glancing blow, and the arrow skimmed over the top of the bigger man's head. Zelda spun around, too, daggers flashing dangerously.
"Not now," Link said, holding out an arm. He turned back, stepped forward and –
Zelda gasped as they slid to a halt. The land dropped away into a chasm of water, the river by their side flowing into an immense waterfall, a churning, gushing mass of foam that crashed into the rocks below. The sound, Link realised now, was deafening. The panic of the chase and the blood thumping in their ears must have masked the noise. Spray from the waterfall tickled their faces. Link shifted his footing, and a stone tipped over, trembled on the edge of the cliff for a heartbeat, then plummeted into the water.
They twirled around at the sound a twig breaking. Kisho and Rivero glared at them, grinning, their weapons ready.
"We're bringing you in," the Commander said softly. His eyes shifted to Zelda. "As for her, I don't who she is." His trigger finger twitched. "So she can die."
"No!" Dropping his crossbow, Link leapt to the side just as Kisho fired. Muscles and nerves screaming as though they had been bathed in salt, the young Hylian pushed Zelda with all his strength, then raised his left hand to deflect the arrow. Zelda tumbled to the ground, and the wooden shaft split Link's skin, before flying out into the abyss. He hissed, diving for his weapon once more, despite now having no uninjured hand to make use of it.
Zelda sprang back to her feet instantly. One quick glance at her friend left her mouth open in shock. Her head snapped towards their attackers, her daggers flipping into position as her eyes flashed angrily from under her scarf. Link saw the two assassins step back uncertainly as they considered the girl. Pulling her arm back, Zelda threw. Liquid metal spun, glinting for an instant, before driving itself into Rivero's shoulder. The big man roared. "Bitch!" he hissed as he struggled to free the blade.
There wasn't time to think. Move, move, move. Link, ignoring the pain shooting up his arm, scooped his crossbow up and fired. The arrow flew up, seemingly missing all targets, and disturbed the leaves in the tree above.
Kisho snorted, then raised his own weapon. A smile ghosted across his face. A sad smile. "It appears you've lost your touch," he said. There seemed to be genuine disappointment in his voice. "You really can't work under pressure, can you?" He twitched involuntarily. "You have failed your 'Test'."
Link froze, uncertain. Then a sharp crack pierced the air, and an overhanging branch, split at the end by the youngster's arrow, tumbled down on top of the Commander, knocking him unconscious.
Link looked up. The air shimmered above him, and he heard the faint flap of invisible wings. He smiled.
Zelda leapt towards him, then slid to the ground on her knees, tearing a strip of fabric from her tunic. "Quickly!" she spat, throwing a glance at Rivero and wrapping the material around Link's freshly injured hand.
They rose to their feet, the sound of the water rumbling and spitting from bellow. Link turned to Zelda and asked, "Do you trust me?"
Her blue eyes grew wide with confusion. "What?"
"Do you trust me?"
Her hand dropped automatically to the Oath Blade. "Yes."
"Then jump!"
...
Anju, cradling baby Hobert protectively in her arms, ran for one corner of the roof, ducking under drawn swords and swinging fists. Her eyes darted this way and that, surveying the carnage. The fire was spreading slowly across the ground, radiating crackling waves of heat that pricked her skin. Impa, Ganondorf, her husband and the King fought on, but it was clear they faced a losing battle.
The Hylian Chief was nowhere to be seen, slipping away as soon as the chaos had started. The crowd below were becoming restless, murmuring their disappointment. Others called for help, confused at what was going on.
Anju spotted Mystral on the far side, but the path to her was blocked with too many guards. Leaning back against the wall, she hissed. Hobert began whimpering, and instinctively her hand went to his head, stroking.
Her fool husband. She'd known why he'd done it, of course, despite the fact it had filled her with disgust when he had eventually told her. Anju wasn't a Harkinian and when she had married into the family, she had taken a dramatic drop in her standard of living. Fresh meat and exotic fruits, taken for granted in her youth, had been replaced with dried bread and mouldy cheese. She had given up daydreaming about the latest fashions of the city, instead worrying more about finding anything, no matter how threadbare, just to cover herself with.
It had taken a while to adjust to, she had to admit. There were times when it stretched her patience. Others when it tore at her from within, especially when she had become pregnant. Still. Never once had she considered giving up her husband or her new family. She had even tried to get funds from her trader father, but the Harkinians had politely refused, not wanting to rely on others.
Kafei, on the other hand, had been stricken by their situation. Considering himself a failure because he had brought her into a poverty stricken family, he burned away with guilt and anguish. He feared, deep down, that Anju would one day leave him, taking the baby in tow. With such paranoid notions biting at his heart, he chose his new family over his old one. He chose to betray the Harkinians on the promise that he and his immediate family would be left alone to forge a prosperous life on their own. At times, it made a sick sort of sense. But not always. It made Anju nauseous just to think about it. A cold weight settled on her soul, held into place by the guilt she felt; guilt that, had she not married into the family, the Harkinians would be alive today. Most of all, though, she was struck with a profound sense of isolation. She truly didn't know her husband, after all. And that, considering the sacrifices she had made, scared her deeply.
Anju looked up. The King had managed to take one of the guards prisoner, relieving him of his sword. He waved it about menacingly, the polished metal catching the molten glow of the fire. "Keep back!" he snarled. "Or I'll slit his throat." The other guards hesitated, backing off and lowering their weapons slightly. "Now," he breathed. "We want safe passage out of here."
Anju saw Kafei glance at her. "Over here!" he called.
Shifting Hobert so that his head rested on her shoulder, she rose to her feet, cautiously edging past the guards. A hand darted out from the shadows, clutching her arm. She spun, her heart freezing. Something shoved her back, and she felt someone tear her baby from her arms.
"No!" she shrieked, stumbling.
Servion stepped forward, a twisted grin on his lips. Anju snarled, preparing to leap forward. She'd tear his eyes out if he had to. It looked – and felt – so unnatural to see her baby in the hands of another.
The Chief stepped back. "Stop," he said, raising the child. He walked to the edge of the roof as Hobert began crying. The others watched on in shock. The cords in Kafei's arms and neck tensed, bulging, his eyes never leaving Servion's.
Anju began trembling, her heart hammering agonizingly in her chest. The world became diluted in her eyes. Time shrank and space felt suffocating. She felt the muscles in her face tighten to the point where they felt they would burst. She ignored the pain.
Slowly, Servion extended his arm until Hobert was left dangling above the crowd below. He spun there, and began to shriek.
"NO!" Anju screamed. Ignoring the guards' blades, she ploughed forward. Mystral appeared at her side, dragging her back. She tried to claw at the woman's face. Why was she stopping her from reaching her son? Kafei tried to lunge forward as well, but both Impa and Ganondorf held him down.
Servion chuckled. "It seems," he said. "That none of you will be leaving for anywhere, except perhaps," he licked his lips, "for this child." He glanced down, where the crowd gazed up in disbelief, their eyes wide. Some of them had their hands in their mouths, and they chewed nervously.
Montero stepped forward. "What is it you want, Boarhound?" he said carefully.
Anju jerked as the Chief let Hobert slip a little further from his grasp. "What I want," Servion said. "What I want." He chuckled. "Just one little thing." He motioned at Ganondorf. "You. Heathen. I'll hand the child back if you give yourself up to me."
Cautiously, Ganondorf looked from the prisoners to the Chief and back again. Anju stared at him, hope glistening in her eyes.
"I accept," he said. "You can have me. Just give the child back to his mother."
Servion cocked his head to one side, then growled, "Come closer."
Hesitating for a heartbeat, Ganondorf stepped forward.
The Chief jerked his head towards Anju. Smoking curled across his face, masking his features. "Woman," he barked. "Take your child."
She ran forward as Servion pulled Hobert back from the edge. She scooped him up into her arms, hugging his tiny, still shrieking form, then backed off, and rejoined the others.
Servion and Ganondorf stared at each other for a moment, while all around them watched expectantly.
"I'm here," the old Gerudo said, raising his hands. "Now what?"
The Chief smirked, then reached into his cloak. He pulled free a metallic glove, each finger tipped with razor sharp blades, and slipped it onto his hand. He paused, looking out at the crowd, then plunged the spikes into the Gerudo's chest.
Anju spun away, her arm curling around Hobert's face as Ganondorf's scream tore out through the air. Montero sprang forward, calling for his father, but his path was instantly blocked by a score of guards. The crowd screamed too, some turning to flee, others retching. Even the guards were looking at each other with trepidation, shuffling slowly away.
With a ferocious tug, Servion pulled something small free. The Gerudo slumped to the ground, lifeless. The Chief turned towards the crowd. "Have you ever wondered?" he shouted. "How it came to be that a Gerudo rose to power?"
He paused, his crimson-splattered face still grinning insanely.
"Behold!" he said, opening his hand. A small object lay on Servion's glistening palm. "The Triforce of Power."