Chapter 15
"Is it far?"
Zelda listened to the hum and buzz of the river as she waited for Link to reply. The steady roar of the waterfall droned on in the distance, like the march of a thousand drummers. The water sloshed lazily closer to shore, the pungent scent of the river floating over towards them. Crickets chirped, a rhythmic chorus of sighs pulsing like the beat of a heart. Glowing insects glided erratically around her face, considered her for a moment, then flew away, searching for something more interesting to feed on.
"It's quite a distance," Link said with a sigh. She could make out his form from the moonlight pooling around where they stood. "Even when we get there the city is supposed to be hidden. It might take a while."
She let her eyes drift away from him. It prickled her heart to think about what was to come. And yet, it seemed so distant, like a dull memory from childhood smothered over time. She saw, from the corner of her vision, her Hylian friend turn his attention back to the map, his fingers rubbing the edge of the parchment with a whispery sigh.
Zelda sighed, noticing the bloated, wart ridden form of a toad glancing up at her with jaundiced eyes. She grimaced, her mouth twisting in distaste. Pulling her mind away, she considered their situation.
They had stayed near the riverside for the past few days, close enough so that they could quickly gather water and fish, but not so close that they would be exposed to prying eyes. Leaping from the cliff's edge, screaming as their stomachs rose, the wind tearing at their skin, they had landed on the invisible form of Bannock, who then proceeded to sweep them away from danger, gently bringing them to safe ground at the foot of the waterfall. They slept on the ground, while the Glimmer Bird had kept watch. Zelda's back was sore and felt as stiff as iron. Her clothes felt grimy and uncomfortable. She wasn't used to living outdoors.
Link hadn't wanted them to go on until he was certain that they weren't being followed. He'd scouted the area during the daytime and had poured over the map at night, using a fire as light. Zelda had watched him, telling him stories from her childhood and asking about his. It was just an attempt to keep both their minds occupied. She'd kept herself busy as well. Choosing a suitably sized branch, she had peeled off the bark with her knife and had fashioned herself a fishing rod, using twine from her travel pack as a wire. Curiously, considering his other skills, Link wasn't as good with a rod as he was with a crossbow. While she had managed, on a regular basis, to catch breakfast, lunch and supper, he had only been able to find rusted, weed-encrusted hunks of steel and a chewed up old boot.
She'd teased him about it, to the point that he had once tried to playfully push her into the icy cold water. She'd been too fast for him, but the laughter they had shared that day had uplifted both of them, reinforcing the strange bond they already shared.
Link still hadn't told her about the two men that had chased them, and she hadn't prodded him, despite the curiosity gnawing at her soul. It had been a week since they had left the Deku Tree and they had both become accustomed to each other's moods. Zelda had learned to recognise exactly when Link would be in a talkative mood and when he wanted to be left alone. In turn, Link had given her space in the odd moments when all she wanted to do was rest against a tree, staring into the sky and letting the rush of running water lull her to sleep.
In the distance, through the lines of twisted, moss covered trees, she could still make out the faint outlines of the waterfall, the moon's glistening light glossing over the foam with a silvery hue. The light couldn't quite catch the river itself, though, and it ebbed and flowed in a black, syrupy mass. She let her eyes return to the waterfall, seeing the spray sparkle, incandescent droplets that flickered, then died. "It's beautiful," she murmured, resting a hand on a nearby tree. The words had barely left her mouth when the ache began again. It was a familiar pain, one that she'd been trying to battle for the past for days. How many more chances would she get to see something as and simple and stunning as the sight before her?
As though reading her mind, Link said: "It is. Once this is all done and we've freed you from your… 'situation', I'll show you some places that will leave you awestruck."
Zelda let out a breath, wanting to utter a denial. His optimism was infectious, but misplaced. He'd already turned away, though.
She blinked, pondering. Time and again, her mind tortured her with all the things she would have to leave behind when all this was done. Time and again, she steeled her soul against those whisperings. She'd been brought up to believe in a better life for the righteous in the next world. Paralysing dread took flight in the face of such a comforting thought, filling her with both warmth and strength. There was just one murmur of disquiet, though – just how righteous had she been?
Before she could let herself go down that path, a shimmer of movement caught her eye. Link, his black-clad form barely distinguishable from the night, peeled out from the darkness. "Come," he said, gesturing.
She followed him, ducking branches and feeling the grass, then the crumbling soil, crunch under her boots. Sometimes a stem, sticky with sap, would become caught in her tunic, stretch, bend, then snap backwards, caressing her harshly and reddening her skin. Finally they emerged into a clearing, the sky like a canopy above their heads, pierced with the twinkle of a million stars. The view almost took her breath away, bringing tears to her eyes. A light breeze blew, washing over her body refreshingly. She saw a small, squat stone building sitting at the centre of the clearing, like a lonely child long forgotten. Crudely made openings had been carved into the wall, and she saw Link take a peek inside.
"What is it?" she asked. He turned around and, for one instant where time seemed to freeze, he was caught in the moon's light, a pale blue outline tracing his body and flashing off of the metal from his crossbow. Her heart skipped a beat. Link, his face still cloaked in shadow, looked tall, imposing…and intimidating. There was strength there…and something else, too. A coldness, sometimes reflected in his eyes, that indicated that he could kill without the slightest hesitation. She'd seen it when he went hunting, casually snapping the necks of chaves as though it were the most natural action in the world. She'd seen it when they'd been running in fear from the men. Looking closer, Zelda saw the muscles under his tunic, remembered the practised ease in which he used his weapon and, just as in their earlier meetings, she felt a tremor of fear.
Again, he seemed to possess the uncanny ability to trace her thoughts. "I make you nervous, don't I?" he said. Genuine sadness floated in his voice, making her forget how impressed she felt with his perceptiveness. "I mean everything I say. I won't break my vow."
She held his gaze for a moment, watching his tunic flutter in the breeze. "I know," she said softly. Still a flame of doubt flickered in her heart. Surely he was only doing this because the Great Deku Tree had put him to it? That, and the fact that he had no one else left. Just like her. "I'm just sorry, that's all." She swallowed, looking up. The moon was full this night, a glowing pearl that clothed the land with a watery glow. Enough light to see clearly by. "If it weren't for me, you'd be able to devote your time in finding your sister."
"Like I said before," he replied. "You~"
"No," she said, taking a step forward. "I could never replace her in your heart. Don't pretend otherwise to yourself." He watched her carefully. "I wouldn't even want you to do that."
There was a pause, then he turned back to step inside the small building. A hush fell upon them both. Zelda, briefly wondering if she'd somehow wounded his feelings, moved towards the stone house slowly. Finally, she heard him busy himself from within.
"This is a bandit Watch House," he called. "A safe place for them to rest temporarily. This one's abandoned. Perfect for us." Stepping out, he searched his travel pack, pulled something out, then went back in. Her eyes followed him, her mind finding it soothing to watch him work. And she had to keep herself distracted. If not, then her traitorous thoughts would nudge and prod at her, trying to dissuade her, to make her reconsider. Logic and instinct were poison to her now. She had to cling to the notion that the path she had chosen was the correct one, cling to the conviction that everything happened for the best, even if she couldn't see the wisdom of it herself. It was a belief that all children were taught throughout the land, regardless of their race. It was a belief that she needed intensely now, like iced water to parched lips.
His voice came again. "There's an outhouse on the other side." Peeking his head out, Link waved at the building. "Have a look."
She stepped inside, grimacing as the musty odour of decay floated over her. Her boots scraped on the stone floor as she shuffled further forward. Mothballs rolled from under her feet, disturbed by her movements. It was as simple and nondescript on the inside as it was on the outside. There was a small alcove built into the far wall, the stone licked black from what was obviously a place in which a fire was meant to burn. In one corner, Link had piled straw – no doubt already a permanent feature of the place - and dried, tangy scented leaves into a small mound. She smiled. A bed. Next to it, he'd left a pot and some food, bread and cheese, neatly wrapped in a cloth. She was touched.
Link slipped past her, dark shadows melting from his path – river animals that had dared to stray too far away from home. Zelda's eyes followed him out. She pressed her palm flat against the damp rock, felt the coolness spread through her fingers, and noticed Link stacking moss and twigs towards one end of the clearing. "What are you doing?"
He looked up briefly, not pausing in his work. "I'll be sleeping outside."
A smile came to her lips, unbidden. She wasn't used to the kind of gentlemanly behaviour Link was putting on display here. Though she'd had little time to consider such things when battling for her family, she knew that Link was a far cry from the few rough and uncouth boys that had crossed path in the past. Her heart fluttered, but she stilled it instantly, as though blowing out a candle. It didn't last when she realised, with a jolt, that he was building his bedding directly at the mouth of the glade. He's putting himself between the entrance and me. The only entrance. Her heart surged, trembling, and she had to fight to still the agitation within. She failed, and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, a thought unfurled in her mind, a sudden itch of curiosity that she had to have satisfied. Zelda watched him a moment longer, then, with a deep breath, she plucked up the courage to ask: "Why are you really doing this?"
Link didn't miss a beat. "Doing what?"
"Helping me," she replied, her throat tight. She wasn't quite sure how much she really wanted to hear the reason.
This time Link did stop. "Leading you to your death is hardly 'help.'"
Tapping her fingers against rough stone, Zelda continued, "You could have refused, walked away. No one can make you do this." Her jaw clenched for a moment, trying to put her suspicions into words. "You don't really care, do you? You don't care what happens to all those people in the future?"
A heartbeat passed. "No," he replied. "Why should I be concerned over the fate of people I've never met?"
A cold chill trickled through her veins. She felt numb. "Then?"
He winced, as though pondering over his words carefully. When he spoke, his voice was low and measured. "I need to know that loyalty and justice still exist in this accursed world. I don't need to believe, I need to know." He took a step forward. "I need to know if it exists within me." Another step. "As far as the world is concerned, it would be better off dead anyway."
She searched for the spark of anger in her heart. It didn't come. "You were willing to kill the Princess before you found out who I truly was." Though, as she'd confided to him on their journey, it was Zelda that had thought that the Tree had mistaken her name and was really referring to the Princess, Link still had been ready to kill someone before she had been stripped of her disguise.
"I was willing to humour the weed," he said. "If I'd killed her and it had not meant anything, I would not have fretted over it." She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off. "However. When we did find out it was you…well, then I realised it wasn't just a matter of one life over many. It was the matter of killing a living, breathing person that I knew. Things changed then."
Zelda wasn't convinced. "And the Princess isn't those things? A living, breathing person?" The anger was finally emerging, tearing through her heart and bubbling onto her tongue. "Hardly heroic talk."
"I never claimed to be a 'Hero."
"You wish you were."
"How could you possibly know what I want?"
They fell silent, the echo of their heated voices still reverberating in the air. Link was the first to speak. "I'm…sorry," he said. "I was confused. Troubled. The Tree's words – eventually - put everything into place for me. What I felt about the 'Princess' then, I don't feel now."
Zelda felt her cheek twitch. "What do you feel about her now, then?"
"I don't know her," he replied. "I don't know what I feel. I didn't even know it was her I was supposed to kill, remember?" Twigs snapped under his boots. "But you I do know, if only a little." His eyes met hers. "You're willing to give your life for others. That, in itself, is worth fighting for." As if unsure as to whether she'd believe him, he added: "Again, I'm sorry. I'm sure your Princess is just as brave and noble as you."
Confusion twisted Zelda's heart. She wanted to believe him, but she wasn't quite sure how sincere he was. Maybe he wasn't even certain as to how much conviction lay behind his words. She nodded, a tacit acceptance of his apology.
Relief flowed across Link's features. "I still have a lot of things to set right, a lot of things to learn, a lot of…faith…to gain," he said. "I was taught to make my heart grow cold." He stared directly at her with an intensity that, though she was used to it by now, still both unnerved and thrilled her. "I don't believe that anymore."
The words made no sense to her, but the emotion fuelling them was clear. Zelda watched as Link continued to construct his bedding, the sharp edges of fallen bark scratching against his injured palms. He made no gesture that indicated that it bothered him. With a twinge in her heart, she strode towards him. "Here," she said, reaching for the twigs in his hands. "Let me."
He pulled away. Zelda looked at him, confused, noticing the indecision flickering in his eyes. Why was he being so stubborn over something as trivial as this? Had his ego taken offence? She cocked her head to the side, a question in her eyes.
"Smile for me, Zelda," he said.
She gasped, caught off guard by the request. Wanting to scowl instead, but unable to do so, she found the corners of her mouth tugging upwards. She looked down, feeling blood rush to her cheeks.
Link smiled in response, a broad grin that melted the tension from his face, and then handed the withered branches over to her. Zelda turned away quickly, moving towards to the centre of the clearing and –
- and I see you now, Link. So close, I could curl the girl's hands around your throat and snap your neck. How ironic would that be, boy? Century after century after century you thwart my plans. Oh, I know it's not the same person every time. Don't think of me as a fool. But just to kill one of you just once…how sweet it would be. Then, finally, this world will be in my grasp and every man, woman and child will forever remember the name -
"Zelda!"
She snapped back to reality at the sound of Link's urgent voice, her tunic clinging to her from the sweat that now coated her entire body, her heart booming in her chest. Gasping for breath, she waited until the world stopped spinning, her eyes growing wide when she saw the dagger clutched in her hand. Link leapt towards her, but she took an instinctive step back, digging her heel hard into the ground.
"What happened?" he demanded. "You looked like you were in a trance." His eyes dropped to her hand. "And then you drew your blade."
"I…I…" What could she tell him? She stumbled towards the Watch House, her head throbbing. "It's nothing. I'm just feeling a little dizzy."
"Zelda?" His tone was cautious.
"I'm fine," she said, finally taking one step inside. She was losing control. The thing inside her was growing – and it wanted to see Link dead. Ice-cold dread crystallised in her heart.
He shuffled his feet. "Are you sure?"
She snapped her head around. "I'm fine." Seeing his perplexed expression, she added softly, "I'm tired, Link. It's been a long journey. I need to sleep." She turned back to her small alcove, her voice amplifying as she took another step inside. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."
Link's reply was swift and thick with emotion. "I'm frightened for you."
She paused, taking in a deep breath, but still not wanting to turn around fully. Then, she walked in completely, sinking to her knees on the soft straw.
"Someone approaches." It was Bannock's voice, watching from the trees like an invisible chaperone. Zelda closed her eyes. What now?
The rumble of hooves filled her ears. Quickly biting down all the fear she felt, Zelda darted outside. Chaos poured into their little clearing, in the form of chalk-white horses, spitting and neighing. Link was already there, weapon ready, snarling at the newcomers. There were too many, though – all riders on horseback, hair braided and crudely forged swords clinking from their belts. Lamps, tiny stars enclosed in glass, bounced from the saddles, giving off a metallic tinkle. Bowstrings hummed, and arrows flew, somehow striking the Glimmer Bird. With a yell, Link ran under him, catching him in his Glimmer capsule.
She tried to push forward, but they huddled around her, their horses kicking and snorting. Warm, fetid breath closed around her and she flinched, wincing. As soon as he saw her, Link sprang forward. A spinning shield, snatching traces of glowing blue moonlight off its polished surface, cut through the air, and Zelda opened her mouth to cry out to her friend – but it was too late. Distracted with the thought of protecting her, Link was caught unawares by the blow, and crumpled to the ground in a heap, his crossbow bouncing from his hand.
Zelda's heart lurched. She strode forward, hands falling to her daggers, teeth clenched. She didn't get far. With rattling hooves churning up soil, the riders blocked her path, flinty eyes gazing down at her without pity.
Two new riders approached as murmurs of congratulations spread around the clearing. Zelda's eyes dropped to Link's prone form and she swallowed, noticing the dark stain seeping through his fair hair. The two newcomers trotted to a halt, their more elaborate clothing identifying them as the leaders.
Zelda straightened her back, staring them down. "What do you want with us?" she demanded.
One of the riders, a slim man with hazelnut hair, dropped to the ground. "The question is, rather," he said, "what are you doing on our territory?"
Zelda's gaze drifted to the other rider. It was clear from her gait and posture that she was a woman, a slender one at that. A slip of red hair flashed out from under her hood, and Zelda caught a glimpse of her face. She was quite the beauty. The woman came to a halt and leered down at Link, licking her lips. Zelda hated her instantly.
"Ah ha," the woman said, stroking the horse's mane. "A fine piece of meat for me, mister. Another notch on my bow, if you'll be excusing my meaning."
The man waved a hand impatiently. "Later, Malon." He gestured at the other men. "Tie the boy up. Take him back to camp."
Grinding his heel into the ground, he turned towards Zelda, his cheek twitching and his eyes filled with a disturbing mixture of cold arrogance and hot lust. She took a step back, disgust flooding her soul.
"And," he said, clicking his fingers. "Bring the girl…to me."
...
The Princess was gone.
The thought jabbed into Fran's soul like a heated spike. Nothing else mattered now. Not the blood congealing by his face, not the mud clinging to his skin. Not the gnawing pangs of hunger sinking into his stomach. Nothing. He'd lost the Princess.
He had no idea how long he'd lain there, unmoving. Days? Weeks? Sometimes he felt the warm sunlight – weakened from winter's chill bite – stroke his face. Sometimes he felt the icy breath of night prod at his back. His body ached, a shuddering pain that vibrated in every bone, nerve and sinew. He wasn't even sure what exactly had happened.
They'd left Sahasrahla's hut as a group to face whatever person or force that had disturbed the lake. They had barely set foot on the damp earth outside when a huge wave had careened into them, snapping their limbs back and pushing the air from their lungs. The Princess' screams had been smothered into watery gurgles, and the world had melted, shimmering between algae green and dark blue Suspended in the suffocating water, they had been batted to and fro by unseen forces.
Then the creatures had come. Scaly arms curling into jagged claws, they had ripped at Fran's skin, splashing blood. Once, he'd caught a faint glimpse of their faces; withered grey skin wrapped taut around thin flesh, their eyes had spilled crimson light that seemed to burn into the old man's soul. He'd lost sight of his friends as blow after blow came, jerking his head this way and that.
He'd fallen face first into the earth then, frozen with pain, the mud bubbling up against his skin. He couldn't sense any of the others, and his eyes were too puffed up for him to even see.
A voice had reached him then, scratchy, broken and dripping with hate. Three simple words had rolled off its tongue: "The Zoras return."
Darkness had numbed his senses then, sending him into a blissful sleep. He awoke occasionally, opening his mouth so that a few drops of dirty water could trickle onto his tongue. Now, after so long, he found he could finally move, though the effort sent splintering pains hurtling through his body, as though every vein had been filled with broken shards of glass.
He ignored it.
There was only one thing he had to do now, and it pushed at his soul, bringing him shakily to his feet.
He had to find the Princess. He had to find Zelda.
...
"Lady Malon regrets to inform you that she will not be joining you to greet the prisoner."
Hikirem Rusthammer nodded, pulled on his gloves, then turned to face the colossal oak door that led to the entrance of the dungeons. A massive steel bolt, the metal turning grainy brown from age, barred his path. Two guards flanked him, silent and radiating menace like a coiled snake. He sniffed, then shuffled forwards, his boots scraping against the polished floor.
"It's a good thing, too," he said, motioning to the guards to open the door. "If the King has sent an assassin into our lands then the situation must be very bleak indeed." In the background he heard the nervous giggle of a pair of serving girls. Naturally, the sight of seeing him had set their limbs trembling, streaked their cheeks crimson and filled their minds with lurid thoughts. Hikirem smacked his lips. It was a both a curse and a blessing to be clothed in flesh as superb as his. He'd have to find those girls later and give himself a good helping of the blessing.
The messenger shooed the girls away. A puzzled frown still hung from his wrinkled face. "I don't understand," he said. "I thought the Royal Assassins travelled in packs."
"They do," Hikirem replied, cracking his knuckles to release tension. He didn't know why, but this prospective encounter was making him very nervous. Why had the King made such a bold move? "This one…I don't know. I intend to find out. He was carrying an assassin's weapon."
"Perhaps," the messenger said thoughtfully. He was momentarily distracted as the door creaked open with a cavernous sigh, setting free a dank stench. Torchlights flickered, disturbed by the motion. Blinking, he continued, "Perhaps he stole the weapon. Killed an assassin and relieved him of the crossbow."
The notion had already crossed Hikirem's mind and had been dismissed. "Unlikely," he said. "He's just a boy. He couldn't have bested a trained assassin."
"But could such a youngster be an assassin himself?"
Steeling himself, Hikirem gestured at the guards, then stepped inside, a damp cloth automatically rising to his mouth to ward off the smell. "They take all sorts," he said, his voice muffled. "They have no morals, unlike our folk."
"And the girl?" the messenger called.
Hikirem paused. His distaste momentarily evaporated when he recalled the other prisoner. A familiar tingle bubbled within, his mouth instantly going dry. There was to be dessert to this particular meal. From a concealed passage hidden in the room she was secured in, he had watched her for hours. Unfortunately for him, all she had done was kneel, her eyes closed, serenity spreading over her face. What had she been doing? Praying? An acidic sting jabbed at his mouth. He certainly hoped she wasn't the religious type.
"Have her ready for me," he said, unable to keep the tremor of anticipation from his voice.
The messenger bowed, a stiff movement for someone used to keeping his back straight as a rod. "As you command."
The bandit King clenched his jaw. "My cloak, please."
Out of a shadows another servant appeared, folded silk in his arms. Stretching out his arms, he let the minion drape the rich material over his magnificent form, taking extra care not to touch him. It wouldn't do if a lesser being laid a finger on him. His body was nothing more than a chiselled gift to any and all women who crossed his path. As the young girl will be finding out soon enough. He smirked. Besides, he thought as he glanced down at the carefully tailored cloth, he had to look his best at all times.
Hikirem had to try and still his speeding heart as the three of them strode down the narrow passageway, their footsteps clicking in time. The air was damp here, discoloured drops of water falling from the cracked ceiling. True, the room wasn't a dungeon in the traditional sense of the word. It was a series of walls, into which had been nailed steel bonds from which to hang prisoners from. His eyes flicked from side to side, noticing the grime staining the walls, the deep red of dried blood, the thick crusts of other fluids, the vaguely human looking shapes imprinted into the granite with sweat. It almost brought a joyful tear to his eye.
The image of the female prisoner flashed in his mind. This was no time to let a girl distract him. He sighed instantly, knowing he didn't possess the willpower. This girl was so young. So fresh. Another spark of excitement flickered inside. He hoped he could get this over and done with, so that he could spend a little time with the other, more delicious prisoner. Sweat sprang up on his palms, and his breath dropped to shallow bursts. Perhaps he'd let Malon have the boy after all, though she had never before taken such interest in someone so young before.
There he was now, dangling from the wall, his chains tinkling slightly. It shouldn't take much to break him, considering his age. Hikirem sighed, ready to indulge in his second favourite pastime. He'd go through all the usual steps, of course. The whisper of lies, the silky, false promises. Then, when the prisoner had believed himself to have beaten the process, then would the torture begin. Sometimes he wished it wasn't so easy.
The boy's head snapped up as they approached. Hikirem felt his eye quiver slightly. How exactly had a Hylian become an assassin? He looked the boy up and down in silence. The lad glared back, defiant.
Taking in a deep breath, Hikirem began to speak. "Now," he said, swallowing to remove the sour taste from his mouth. "I need some information." He kept his stare solid. "It is not everyday that one finds a royal assassin on his lands." Pursing his lips, Hikirem held out his hands. "I could, of course, force what I need to know out of you. I have…various methods to assist me in that. But." He held up a finger. "But. I am not that cruel." He waited for a few breaths, before adding: "So I'm just going to ask you politely." Stepping forward until his eyes were level with the prisoner's, he said slowly, "Why are you here?"
He took a deep breath, waiting for the brave denial he knew would be flying forth from the boy's lips any moment now. It was exquisite, this little game of strategy, this play where he controlled all the strings. He would reel out hope to the prisoner and – when he was least expecting it – snap the cord and let him plummet into despair. His heart trembled at the thought. He'd never once seen it fail.
The Hylian's pupils grew cold, as though turning to ice. "Where's Zelda?"
Hikirem blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Where's Zelda?" the boy repeated. His muscles tensed against his metal bonds, making the greasy hinges creak.
Licking his lips, Hikirem stepped back, frowning. "You mean the girl?"
"Let me see her."
Amusement tugged at the bandit's face. He hadn't expected this. Still. It made everything all that more spicy. "She's safe, I assure you." He let his tongue roll around the inside of his cheek. "Very safe."
Steel entered the boy's voice. "Then let me see her."
Hikirem laughed, glancing incredulously at his two guards. "You're hardly in a position to make demands, boy."
"I need to know that she's safe."
The bandit sighed. This was entertaining. "And how do you propose you're going to escape from my dungeon, hmm?" He flicked his eyes around the room. "By using your teeth and chewing your way free?"
"Yes," the Hylian replied, deadly serious. "If I have to."
Hikirem took a step back, reeling - as though he'd been dealt a blow - from intensity in the boy's tone. Clearing his throat, he composed himself quickly.
The boy stared at him, his eyes narrowing to dull slits. Hikirem felt the room contract, felt the heat from the lad's fury burn into him. Somewhere in the distance the bubbling murmur of his castle faded into a faint throb. He tasted copper on his tongue.
The Hylian spoke. "You can torture me from sunrise to sunset if you want." Each word was like a drop of molten magma blistering into the bandit's heart. "But I will escape. And I will find Zelda."
"I believe," Hikirem said, spinning around. "That this conversation is going to be rather fruitless. I'll be back later to see if you have come to your senses." He clicked his fingers, a gesture to the guards.
"Wait."
Hikirem stopped, his heart suddenly pumping all too quickly. He cocked his head slightly, a faint hope rising in his mind that the boy had seen sense. The brooding darkness in the Hylian's voice was not reassuring, however. No, not darkness, he realised with a catch in his throat. Madness. Pure, unadulterated insanity.
"What is it?"
"If you hurt her," the boy said, his voice nothing more than a harsh whisper that set free a sharp torrent of slow moving words, drained of the slightest blemish of human warmth. "I promise that I will tear the skin from your body, grind your bones under my feet, and then rip out your veins one by one."
With a screech of boot against stone, Hikirem strode away, finally releasing a breath that he'd kept painfully in. The bandit's mouth had gone completely dry, parched like a man trapped in the heat of the desert. As he reached the door, his hand began to tremble, the liquid venom in the lad's voice still staining his mind. He burst out into the passageway, gasping for breath as his skin prickled with cold, cold sweat.