Howdy! Sorry it's been FOReVER since I updated last--I just started working full time a couple of weeks ago and haven't had any time to write! Well, this week I had my wisdom teeth out--and that's the only reason I've been able to sit around and work on this chapter...so YAY FOR WISDOM TEETH! Anyway, I do hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I do. It'll prove fun later on
R&R!
Disclaimer: Zelda = not mine. Link = not mine. Aldrien = mine. You get the point, you see thepattern, I don't own zelda/never will.
Chapter Seven: Fateful Meeting
Aldrien stared ahead angrily as he stepped through the portal. Only one of his men remained, and when that particular one caught sight of his leader, he nearly ran. It was only fear that stayed him, for he knew well that if he ran he would catch a fate far worse than a simple scolding from his master, and that was if he was in a good mood. If he was not feeling particularly merciful, he would die either way, and from the looks of it, the young prince was none too happy to see all but one of his men gone.
"What is this?" the assassin demanded, placing his left hand on his long knife.
"My Lord Aldrien, I beg your forgiveness but the others–they left..."
"Was my vessel secured, Kinadon?"
"Yes, my lord. Secured and ready to depart on your word," the human replied, sweeping into a low bow, his short, stubby hands brushing against the cobblestones. "I am sure that you will find the ship to your liking, the fastest in all of Kakariko. It will have you to Fort Root in ten days."
Aldrien looked away and relaxed for a brief moment. A ten day trip from even the southernmost of Kakariko's ports was astonishingly fast, for most ships the trek took a good fortnight. That was four days faster, four days that Aldrien knew that he would desperately need if he was to regain Kimmendell's favor and continue to prosper in the palace.
For if what Impa said was true, he was far from being in a favorable position within the castle.
"Those extra four days have saved your life, Kinadon," the assassin mused as he brushed gently past the human, toward the docks, "I relieve you of your duties as my servant. Report back to Kimmendell and tell him that I have embarked on this mission alone."
"Yes, my lord."
"Aldrien, sir, we must make port soon..."
The Hylian looked over and scoffed. He had been aboard the Mianeri for nine days, and was only one day from Fort Root, primary port city of the Other-Lands. The twelve man crew of the tiny ship had obviously been uncomfortable with the elf's presence aboard the boat, and it was apparent that the captain had meant to stop in the last city to reward his mens' tolerance with a well deserved break. But Aldrien was not yet ready to stop for supplies.
"No," he retorted to the captain with a scowl. "Your men will be forced to endure my presence until we reach my destination. It was their choice to remain aboard the Mianeri, they were told that I would be joining you on your next crossing and that once I reach my destination each one of you would receive four hundred rupees. Am I not correct, my good captain?"
The last line was delivered with such unwavering seriousness that the captain felt a lump in his throat and a shiver run down his spine. He may not have been the most intelligent being in Hyrule, but he did know the reputation of this particular Hylian, and understood the danger in crossing him even as much as he already had. But, at the same time he was running low on supplies, and his crew, even as small as it was, was gluttonous to their very cores, and would not likely be happy with the necessary rationing of food that another missed port would cause.
And if it is food that you are so concerned with you can fish, can you not?" Aldrien continued with the same cold tone, reading the captain's thoughts perfectly. "You are men of the sea, I can see that point clearly. However, if you find that for some reason you cannot find fish yourselves, I suppose we will be forced to try another type of meat," the assassin dropped his hands to his twin blades and drew them just far enough for the sun to glint off of the polished steel. He then turned his icy cerulean gaze to the young captain, locking his focus on the fear within. "And it will be a kind I am sure you would be willing to provide. After all, it is the captain's duty to perish for the well being of his crew." He left the sentence trailing, allowing the finality of the words to fully sink into the human's thoughts.
The young man realized fully that he had been threatened, and knew that Aldrien's words were far from empty. He could only nod, allowing himself to give in to his own great fear, succumbing to Aldrien's forceful, frightening charm.
"We'll then pass through the next port town," he paused slightly, choosing his words carefully, "Again. We will ration the remaining food, and once those provisions have expired we will provide for ourselves until we reach the town of Calhoun, for five hundred rupees apiece."
The human knew well that he was pushing his luck, but found himself caught off guard by the prince's abrupt response.
"Five hundred per crewman for nonstop passage to Calhoun. We have an agreement, Kientri?"
It was at that moment that the two were interrupted on the deck of the ship by one of the younger crewman, who huffed and puffed his way up the few stairs and onto the deck from the lower levels. For a young, strong boy of fifteen, he did not appear to be in the best of physical form.
The crewmen knew differently, though, for this boy, Ire, had lived his entire life on board the Mianeri, growing fond of the sea. He was the most knowledgeable people about the oceans that Aldrien had ever had the pleasure–if he could call it a pleasure–of speaking with, and oft times acted as a lookout.
Kientri noticed first hand that Ire's usually mirthful expression was replaced by one of concern and fear, amplified tenfold by the mere knowledge that he was in the presence of a Hylian. He stepped up to the boy and clapped his shoulder gently, bending just slightly to come to eye level, a tactic often used for the less tall members of the crew to aid in hearing.
"What is the trouble, Ire?" Kientri inquired quietly, glancing up to Aldrien, who read the man's expression perfectly, and stepped back.
"A ship, approaching fast from behind, sir," the boy replied, gasping between words for air, "showing no colors, as it were. I'm afraid it may be pirates."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing. It is a fast ship, however larger than ours, carrying a crew of at least forty good-sized men. I caught sight of a ballista as well."
"A ballista and a crew of forty men," Kientri mused aloud, and shot another look to Aldrien, standing straight up. "I will need you, elf," he began, attention directed toward the assassin.
"Your crew will need me," the Hylian corrected pointedly, "and I will aid you, so long as our agreement holds firm."
"It will."
The two nodded to each other, dismissing Ire back to the crow's nest, and parted ways, Kientri making his way to the galley to gather the crewmen together, while Aldrien made his way back to his quarters to prepare himself for the upcoming encounter. Down the stairs he went, past the galley, to the second door on the right, pushing open the door to reveal his tiny room, usually reserved for the first mate of the ship. There was a bed in the corner, bolted tightly to the floor, and on top of the blood red bedclothes sat his bow, Aluthriel, crafted of the finest wood from the ancient Kokiri Forest, and beside that, the small pouch that contained his most loathed–however valuable–possession.
He scooped up the pouch and pulled its binding strings apart, and reached in, producing a tiny ball of dim light. Its glow dimmed and brightened rhythmically, steadily. He reached up gently with his index finger and poked into it gently, until the glow brightened significantly and a set of four tiny, translucent wings unfolded from its center. The fairy shivered for a moment and shook out its wings, and fluttered up to the elf's shoulder, finding her perch between his neck and the collar of his cloak.
"Aldrien, you woke me for a purpose other than argument?" she questioned with honest curiosity. It was a rarity that the Hylian pulled her from her hiding spot without a definite purpose, and this time, unfortunately, was no different.
"I woke you for battle."
"Oh."
Aldrien gathered his bow, Aluthriel, and quiver, and turned on his heels, striding from the room silently, with quick, urgent steps. He made his way up the stairs and past Kientri, who was meeting with his men about the ship, with Ire shouting distances from atop the mainmast, and found his perch at the very front of the ship, staring out to the southeast at the incoming ship.
"Five thousand yards!"
The elf made his way to the point of the ship, pulling his bow from his shoulder. He eyed it for a brief moment before notching an arrow on the string and pulling it back, taking his aim toward the ship. He let fly the arrow, watching as it fell into the water seventy yards away.
"Aldrien?"
The Hylian glanced to his shoulder, where his fairy sat, and blew a sigh of exasperation. "Yes?"
"The opposing ship has a wizard. I feel black magic emanating from that direction."
Aldrien nodded and bit his lower lip, pulling Aluthriel over his head so that the string ran across his chest and the wood across his back under his left arm, and stared out at the sea. A wizard on board the ship would explain the mystery of traveling against the wind, but that brought about another question. Where in the nine hells would a band of pirates come across a wizard? A skilled one, at that.
"It doesn't add up," the prince mused aloud, oblivious to the fact that he had spoken his thoughts orally.
"What doesn't add up?" the fairy retorted.
"A black mage on the seas."
Another call from the crow's nest interrupted Aldrien's words, "Two thousand!"
The assassin cleared his throat and continued. "Yes, a black mage, unless one of those pirates is well trained in the arcane arts, a possibility I highly doubt. And even if they could find a black mage, why would it come to the sea?"
"For the same reason as you," the fairy replied matter-of-factly. She fluttered from his shoulder and out in front of him, brightening her glow significantly. "Maybe it is that they are after the same artifact as you! Maybe Lord Kimmendell sent them to aid you!"
"...Or to kill me..." Aldrien muttered in reply. If Impa's parting words had been any less serious, Aldrien would never have considered such a thing. Someone, out to kill him? The hunter being hunted? Preposterous. But Impa had said that he was in grave danger, Kimmendell was going to kill him, collect his blood, and use it to bring Marik back from the astral world, and the only way to do such a thing would be to use a mage. He continued his thought, "Cunning. But to think that I would not know when I am being pursued is absurd. Kimmendell, you have underestimated your enemy once again."
"Two hundred! Open fire with the ballista!"
Aldrien started back to reality and yanked the bow from its place around his chest, notching an arrow. The first fire from the ballista would begin the battle, the last arrow in his quiver would surely end it.
The projectile fell short of the ship, landing in the water to the west, and the return fire was no more accurate. But at that point, the other ship was within one hundred yards, close enough for Aldrien to begin his battle with the men on board.
He began by firing arrow after arrow into the crowds of men aboard the ship, each hitting its mark with striking accuracy, some even killing two men in one shot. And as the two ships came within ten feet of each other, the elf ran back to the main deck along with the scurrying, frantic crewmen of the Mianeri, each tending to his own duties, from readying swords to firing their own ballista, and backed himself up against the far rail. It was time to board.
Throwing his bow aside, down the stairs to safety, the Hylian drew his twin knives and charged, calling upon one of his many magical abilities to create a twelve foot globe of blinding light on the deck of the pirates' ship. He jumped to the rail of the Mianeri with perfect balance, and bounded to the deck of the opposing ship with grace unmatched even by the most skilled of elves. Eyes closed and in the light, his knives began their mesmerizing routine. Around in graceful circles they went, until finally Aldrien found one of the two unfortunate men that had been caught in his spell. He sliced a deep gash in the man's chest with his right blade, his left complimenting the motion with a thrust high and into the human's throat. The pirate fell with a thud, and Aldrien whirled on his heel, catching the next confused man with a blade to the throat. The assassin caught him with his blades, double thrusting to the gut, halting the human's fall to death. He twisted, pulling up with such strength that the steel ripped through bones and flesh and out the man's shoulders, finally leaving the despicable thing to die.
Away from the light the elf moved, all the while slashing and thrusting, parrying the pirates' blades with his own skilled techniques, killing any that moved close. Up the deck he charged, toward the center of the boat, and each human he met along the way found their blades deflected either wide or high, and before they could recover, were laying as their lifeblood spilled from their wounds. Aldrien advanced farther with each kill he made.
"Aldrien!" the fairy called over the ring of steel blades and the cries of men, "the mage is atop the mainmast!"
The assassin nodded and turned back around, catching a parry high and slicing in a great arc with his right blade, throwing the man's broadsword far out wide. Across came the left blade, slicing a line across the human's face, and the ugly pirate fell back, clutching the gaping wound where his eyes should have been. Aldrien watched as the wretch fell, and brought his attention back up.
In front of him was the huge ballista, and the Hylian found that the projectile was aimed his direction, and manning the great contraption were six large men, each towering at least one and a half feet over him, and wearing a sneer of sickening delight.
Obviously, Aldrien's head brought a large bounty.
The lever was pulled, the flaming ball launched into the air. Aldrien threw himself backward, his back thudding against the hard wood of the deck so forcefully that one of the boards cracked and he found himself without breath for a brief moment. A few of the battle engaged humans even paused to regard the spectacle, wondering if the graceful elf had indeed been hit by the ball.
But the projectile shot past, right over Aldrien's head, and into the Mianeri's side. Wood splintered and boards cracked, and in a bright fury the once beautiful ship went up in devastating flames.
As if the now flaming ship was not enough, the three fourths of the Mianeri's crew that had not boarded the pirates' ship found themselves faced with a new, unfamiliar challenge: death by water or fire. The majority chose water, dove in head first, and took their chances in the icy, shark infested oceans. But a few valiant humans dove into the fire, coming out in a flaming ball of burning flesh and bone and clothing, jumping the long distance to the other ship, sending the deck ablaze and then falling into the oceans to their deaths.
"My bow!"
Aldrien literally jumped to his feet and sprinted to the side of the ship, watching as the Mianeri, and several of its crewmen, sank to their deaths. He leaned over the railing, watching intently as his bow sank to the bottom of the sea, and for a brief moment, found himself mourning the loss of such a precious item. However, his mourning was brief, for he was jolted back to reality by a sharp, searing pain in his left shoulder.
Aldrien whirled on his heel, turning with a wince to face his attacker. It was the mage, an elderly human dressed inflowing brown robes, who carried at his side a pouch–one that Aldrien could only assume held materials necessary to cast spells.
"Master Aldrien," the human began with a smirk, "it is good to see you again."
"Tairan Undotrieal–first mage to Kimmendell–the man responsible for the constant scryings and summonings in the castle. I was certain that the last demon you summoned had killed you–and had you escaped that fate–Kimmendell was to kill you."
"Ah, but my master summoned me once again, and if I succeed in my new mission, my place in the palace is to be restored to me without question."
"And your mission," Aldrien prodded, gripping his blades eagerly, "is to collect my lifeblood for the resurrection of Marik?"
Tairan was taken back, if only briefly. "How do you know?"
"Well," the assassin replied dryly, the edge in his voice quite apparent, "had I not guessed by the fact that you are currently attacking me without provocation, there is also the fact that a black mage is seabound. Correct me if I am mistaken, Tairan, but I do believe that mages dislike water," he paused for a moment, "you are literally hunting me–you killed my crew and sank the ship that was giving me uninterrupted passage to Calhoun."
"Calhoun?" Tairan interjected smartly, "you are a fool to disclose your destination to me."
"You will be dead before your chance to pursue me further comes," Aldrien replied, "I have no fear of you nor any of your–quite dead–pirate friends following me anywhere."
The mage took another look at the deck of the ship, where every one of his pirate men lay dead or mortally wounded, next to one or more of the former crew of the Mianeri. He returned his icy gaze to Aldrien then, staring long and hard at the young assassin, and readied himself for the attack. "But you must remember, Aldrien of the House of Royals, first blood is mine."
It was at that moment that the twin long knives sprang into action, diving forward in a double thrust high, immediately putting the mage on his heels–a dangerous position for any adversary, skilled in the art of fighting or not. That particular moment was no exception.
Blades whirred and spun, but Tairan parried each swing skillfully with the metal gauntlets that adorned his robed arms, regaining his footing enough to begin chanting a slight dweomer to put himself on the offensive. And as the blades continued their graceful routine, Tairan pulled from the leather pouch a small dirk and a long piece of black cloth that could easily have been used as a blindfold. He then dove to the side, tucking his shoulders underneath himself and into a headlong roll, coming up well out of the reach of Aldrien's long knives.
Tairan called out the final words of his spell, throwing his materials in the air. But, he had not counted on the tiny moment before the spell took effect, and Aldrien had. He launched his knives, blade over hilt, calling upon Din for her fiery gifts, and watched with near glee as the flaming steel drove into the mage's chest, setting his robes and flesh afire. Tairan screeched in pain and flailed about, throwing the flames to the wood, spreading the fire quickly. Then the spell took effect.
The effects hit hard, stealing the assassin's breath and sight. He found himself doubled over in pain, holding his chest where he had felt the brunt of the spell, as if someone had taken a long, thick-bladed dirk and drove it deep into his lungs and heart.
With one final blurred and darkened glance up at Tairan's withering form, and collapsed to the fiery deck of the sinking schooner.
Sound. The sound of breathing, steady and rhythmic. It poured into the assassin prince's ears like the din of battle until he could stand it no more and was forced to push his eyes open, straining and squinting against the candlelight that poured in.
Aldrien pushed himself to his elbows and leaned against the feather pillow under his back. He closed his eyes against the blinding firelight and opened them once again, heaving a sigh for he could see, and took a long look at his surroundings.
To his right and against the far wall sat a small table, bolted tight to the studs. He was covered in the finest of satin bedclothes, and near the footboard of the oaken bed laid his fairy, her tiny light dimming and brightening with each breath. But to his chagrin, Aldrien found that the breathing he had heard was not coming from his fairy. Instead, it was from his left, where a petite man sat slumped in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed down.
He was obviously asleep.
The prince swung his feet over the side of his bed and pushed himself up. He staggered for a moment as though drunk, and began the short trek to the door, passing by the sleeping man with the same silent steps that he used in Kakariko. With a creak, he pulled the door to the small cabin open and stepped into the hall. From where he stood, the bustling crew could be heard well, but even above that was the lapping of the ocean waves against the side of the ship.
He nearly fell over when the ship kicked with the impact of one of the waves, barely steadying himself against the wall. Eyes closed, he turned his face to the floor and nearly fell to his knees as he was overwhelmed with nausea and dizziness–how long had he been unconscious? And what had happened after he had killed the wizard?
"I see ye're awake," came a voice from ahead of him. The prince started and looked up, palm against his forehead, and found himself face to face with the man he could only imagine was the first mate of the vessel he was aboard. But he remained silent, even as the human beckoned him to follow him to the deck of the ship.
When the two stepped onto the deck, the entire crew fell silent. The hush was so complete that even the waves seemed to stop, until Aldrien composed himself enough to finally speak confidently.
"What in the nine hells are you staring at? Have you never seen one of my kind before?" he said, the anger apparent in his voice. Never had Aldrien enjoyed being stared at, though through his life he had gotten used to being made a spectacle around the humans, especially those in towns that he had not visited.
"Follow me," the first mate called, waving Aldrien to follow him toward the poop deck, where the single wooden door sat propped open for all to see inside. The prince obliged with no resistance, and allowed himself to be seated inside the messy office, obviously the captain's quarters, behind one of the map-covered tables.
The first mate excused himself with a bow, "I'll see to it that Captain Troe an' Maji are here within a few minutes. 'Scuse me."
Those few minutes seemed like hours to the prince, who remained seated, staring about the room. He took in everything around him, knowing fully that those that had found him were indeed the ones that he had been hunting, and everything that he saw led him to believe that those pirates were on the same mission as he was.
Aldrien pulled the wooden chair up to one of the wooden tables and took one of the maps in his hands. The city of Calhoun had been encircled in red ink, and a small trail of the same ink led outward into the forests of the Other-Lands, branching and continuing on to the outermost edges of the huge parchment.
He looked up when he heard footsteps outside the door, two sets of them, to be precise. One set was heavy, a signature of the human race, but the second set was light, almost inaudible. They were the steps of a Hylian, and this Aldrien knew well.
"I see you've found the maps, Lord Aldrien..."
The door creaked open, and in stepped one of the cleanest looking pirates that Aldrien had ever seen. Aside from the yellowed teeth, the man could easily have passed for a low class noble in the least. But it was the one that stood behind him that startled him the most.
Aldrien rose and took a step toward the door as the captain and his guest stepped into the room, but stopped short when the captain spoke again.
"My Lord, Aldrien of the House of Royals, this be Link'maji... A Hylian, jest like yerself. I," he directed the younger Hylian's attention toward himself, "be Cap'n Troe of the Kriashase. I'm certain you'll find that there be only honorable men aboard this ship. So honorable, in fact, that they agreed to save your miserable life."
"How dare you speak to me like I am some sort of peasant... It was my mission by Lord Kimmendell to arrest the very men aboard this ship, and I will follow through with my..."
"I am sorry, My Lord..."
Aldrien looked to the Hylian opposite him that had interrupted him, and stepped back. Link looked up for the first time since he had entered the room, and stared coldly into the young elf's eyes, sending a shiver down Aldrien's spine as nothing had before.
"But it was upon my orders that Troe saved you. It was my sympathy that saved your cold life, and therefore you will repay me as I see fit. You are still young, and in my eyes that youth means that you are still immature in all aspects of your life. It has been brought to my attention that you are extremely selfish, you care nothing for the lives of others and do not see enough worth in your own life to change yourself for the better. It is for that reason that on pain of death, you will be my subordinate until I fulfill my mission–one of greater import than yours. Is this understood?"
Aldrien narrowed his cerulean eyes at the elf and rested his wrists on the hilts of his blades, "If you prove that you are indeed worthy of the title of my superior, then, and only then, will I agree with you."
"And if I do not?" Link replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Then you and the crew of this vessel will be under arrest in the name of Hyrule's Lord, Kimmendell, and I will be on my way to completing my mission. Do we have an accord?"
"We do."
R&R!
Disclaimer: Zelda = not mine. Link = not mine. Aldrien = mine. You get the point, you see thepattern, I don't own zelda/never will.
Chapter Seven: Fateful Meeting
Aldrien stared ahead angrily as he stepped through the portal. Only one of his men remained, and when that particular one caught sight of his leader, he nearly ran. It was only fear that stayed him, for he knew well that if he ran he would catch a fate far worse than a simple scolding from his master, and that was if he was in a good mood. If he was not feeling particularly merciful, he would die either way, and from the looks of it, the young prince was none too happy to see all but one of his men gone.
"What is this?" the assassin demanded, placing his left hand on his long knife.
"My Lord Aldrien, I beg your forgiveness but the others–they left..."
"Was my vessel secured, Kinadon?"
"Yes, my lord. Secured and ready to depart on your word," the human replied, sweeping into a low bow, his short, stubby hands brushing against the cobblestones. "I am sure that you will find the ship to your liking, the fastest in all of Kakariko. It will have you to Fort Root in ten days."
Aldrien looked away and relaxed for a brief moment. A ten day trip from even the southernmost of Kakariko's ports was astonishingly fast, for most ships the trek took a good fortnight. That was four days faster, four days that Aldrien knew that he would desperately need if he was to regain Kimmendell's favor and continue to prosper in the palace.
For if what Impa said was true, he was far from being in a favorable position within the castle.
"Those extra four days have saved your life, Kinadon," the assassin mused as he brushed gently past the human, toward the docks, "I relieve you of your duties as my servant. Report back to Kimmendell and tell him that I have embarked on this mission alone."
"Yes, my lord."
"Aldrien, sir, we must make port soon..."
The Hylian looked over and scoffed. He had been aboard the Mianeri for nine days, and was only one day from Fort Root, primary port city of the Other-Lands. The twelve man crew of the tiny ship had obviously been uncomfortable with the elf's presence aboard the boat, and it was apparent that the captain had meant to stop in the last city to reward his mens' tolerance with a well deserved break. But Aldrien was not yet ready to stop for supplies.
"No," he retorted to the captain with a scowl. "Your men will be forced to endure my presence until we reach my destination. It was their choice to remain aboard the Mianeri, they were told that I would be joining you on your next crossing and that once I reach my destination each one of you would receive four hundred rupees. Am I not correct, my good captain?"
The last line was delivered with such unwavering seriousness that the captain felt a lump in his throat and a shiver run down his spine. He may not have been the most intelligent being in Hyrule, but he did know the reputation of this particular Hylian, and understood the danger in crossing him even as much as he already had. But, at the same time he was running low on supplies, and his crew, even as small as it was, was gluttonous to their very cores, and would not likely be happy with the necessary rationing of food that another missed port would cause.
And if it is food that you are so concerned with you can fish, can you not?" Aldrien continued with the same cold tone, reading the captain's thoughts perfectly. "You are men of the sea, I can see that point clearly. However, if you find that for some reason you cannot find fish yourselves, I suppose we will be forced to try another type of meat," the assassin dropped his hands to his twin blades and drew them just far enough for the sun to glint off of the polished steel. He then turned his icy cerulean gaze to the young captain, locking his focus on the fear within. "And it will be a kind I am sure you would be willing to provide. After all, it is the captain's duty to perish for the well being of his crew." He left the sentence trailing, allowing the finality of the words to fully sink into the human's thoughts.
The young man realized fully that he had been threatened, and knew that Aldrien's words were far from empty. He could only nod, allowing himself to give in to his own great fear, succumbing to Aldrien's forceful, frightening charm.
"We'll then pass through the next port town," he paused slightly, choosing his words carefully, "Again. We will ration the remaining food, and once those provisions have expired we will provide for ourselves until we reach the town of Calhoun, for five hundred rupees apiece."
The human knew well that he was pushing his luck, but found himself caught off guard by the prince's abrupt response.
"Five hundred per crewman for nonstop passage to Calhoun. We have an agreement, Kientri?"
It was at that moment that the two were interrupted on the deck of the ship by one of the younger crewman, who huffed and puffed his way up the few stairs and onto the deck from the lower levels. For a young, strong boy of fifteen, he did not appear to be in the best of physical form.
The crewmen knew differently, though, for this boy, Ire, had lived his entire life on board the Mianeri, growing fond of the sea. He was the most knowledgeable people about the oceans that Aldrien had ever had the pleasure–if he could call it a pleasure–of speaking with, and oft times acted as a lookout.
Kientri noticed first hand that Ire's usually mirthful expression was replaced by one of concern and fear, amplified tenfold by the mere knowledge that he was in the presence of a Hylian. He stepped up to the boy and clapped his shoulder gently, bending just slightly to come to eye level, a tactic often used for the less tall members of the crew to aid in hearing.
"What is the trouble, Ire?" Kientri inquired quietly, glancing up to Aldrien, who read the man's expression perfectly, and stepped back.
"A ship, approaching fast from behind, sir," the boy replied, gasping between words for air, "showing no colors, as it were. I'm afraid it may be pirates."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing. It is a fast ship, however larger than ours, carrying a crew of at least forty good-sized men. I caught sight of a ballista as well."
"A ballista and a crew of forty men," Kientri mused aloud, and shot another look to Aldrien, standing straight up. "I will need you, elf," he began, attention directed toward the assassin.
"Your crew will need me," the Hylian corrected pointedly, "and I will aid you, so long as our agreement holds firm."
"It will."
The two nodded to each other, dismissing Ire back to the crow's nest, and parted ways, Kientri making his way to the galley to gather the crewmen together, while Aldrien made his way back to his quarters to prepare himself for the upcoming encounter. Down the stairs he went, past the galley, to the second door on the right, pushing open the door to reveal his tiny room, usually reserved for the first mate of the ship. There was a bed in the corner, bolted tightly to the floor, and on top of the blood red bedclothes sat his bow, Aluthriel, crafted of the finest wood from the ancient Kokiri Forest, and beside that, the small pouch that contained his most loathed–however valuable–possession.
He scooped up the pouch and pulled its binding strings apart, and reached in, producing a tiny ball of dim light. Its glow dimmed and brightened rhythmically, steadily. He reached up gently with his index finger and poked into it gently, until the glow brightened significantly and a set of four tiny, translucent wings unfolded from its center. The fairy shivered for a moment and shook out its wings, and fluttered up to the elf's shoulder, finding her perch between his neck and the collar of his cloak.
"Aldrien, you woke me for a purpose other than argument?" she questioned with honest curiosity. It was a rarity that the Hylian pulled her from her hiding spot without a definite purpose, and this time, unfortunately, was no different.
"I woke you for battle."
"Oh."
Aldrien gathered his bow, Aluthriel, and quiver, and turned on his heels, striding from the room silently, with quick, urgent steps. He made his way up the stairs and past Kientri, who was meeting with his men about the ship, with Ire shouting distances from atop the mainmast, and found his perch at the very front of the ship, staring out to the southeast at the incoming ship.
"Five thousand yards!"
The elf made his way to the point of the ship, pulling his bow from his shoulder. He eyed it for a brief moment before notching an arrow on the string and pulling it back, taking his aim toward the ship. He let fly the arrow, watching as it fell into the water seventy yards away.
"Aldrien?"
The Hylian glanced to his shoulder, where his fairy sat, and blew a sigh of exasperation. "Yes?"
"The opposing ship has a wizard. I feel black magic emanating from that direction."
Aldrien nodded and bit his lower lip, pulling Aluthriel over his head so that the string ran across his chest and the wood across his back under his left arm, and stared out at the sea. A wizard on board the ship would explain the mystery of traveling against the wind, but that brought about another question. Where in the nine hells would a band of pirates come across a wizard? A skilled one, at that.
"It doesn't add up," the prince mused aloud, oblivious to the fact that he had spoken his thoughts orally.
"What doesn't add up?" the fairy retorted.
"A black mage on the seas."
Another call from the crow's nest interrupted Aldrien's words, "Two thousand!"
The assassin cleared his throat and continued. "Yes, a black mage, unless one of those pirates is well trained in the arcane arts, a possibility I highly doubt. And even if they could find a black mage, why would it come to the sea?"
"For the same reason as you," the fairy replied matter-of-factly. She fluttered from his shoulder and out in front of him, brightening her glow significantly. "Maybe it is that they are after the same artifact as you! Maybe Lord Kimmendell sent them to aid you!"
"...Or to kill me..." Aldrien muttered in reply. If Impa's parting words had been any less serious, Aldrien would never have considered such a thing. Someone, out to kill him? The hunter being hunted? Preposterous. But Impa had said that he was in grave danger, Kimmendell was going to kill him, collect his blood, and use it to bring Marik back from the astral world, and the only way to do such a thing would be to use a mage. He continued his thought, "Cunning. But to think that I would not know when I am being pursued is absurd. Kimmendell, you have underestimated your enemy once again."
"Two hundred! Open fire with the ballista!"
Aldrien started back to reality and yanked the bow from its place around his chest, notching an arrow. The first fire from the ballista would begin the battle, the last arrow in his quiver would surely end it.
The projectile fell short of the ship, landing in the water to the west, and the return fire was no more accurate. But at that point, the other ship was within one hundred yards, close enough for Aldrien to begin his battle with the men on board.
He began by firing arrow after arrow into the crowds of men aboard the ship, each hitting its mark with striking accuracy, some even killing two men in one shot. And as the two ships came within ten feet of each other, the elf ran back to the main deck along with the scurrying, frantic crewmen of the Mianeri, each tending to his own duties, from readying swords to firing their own ballista, and backed himself up against the far rail. It was time to board.
Throwing his bow aside, down the stairs to safety, the Hylian drew his twin knives and charged, calling upon one of his many magical abilities to create a twelve foot globe of blinding light on the deck of the pirates' ship. He jumped to the rail of the Mianeri with perfect balance, and bounded to the deck of the opposing ship with grace unmatched even by the most skilled of elves. Eyes closed and in the light, his knives began their mesmerizing routine. Around in graceful circles they went, until finally Aldrien found one of the two unfortunate men that had been caught in his spell. He sliced a deep gash in the man's chest with his right blade, his left complimenting the motion with a thrust high and into the human's throat. The pirate fell with a thud, and Aldrien whirled on his heel, catching the next confused man with a blade to the throat. The assassin caught him with his blades, double thrusting to the gut, halting the human's fall to death. He twisted, pulling up with such strength that the steel ripped through bones and flesh and out the man's shoulders, finally leaving the despicable thing to die.
Away from the light the elf moved, all the while slashing and thrusting, parrying the pirates' blades with his own skilled techniques, killing any that moved close. Up the deck he charged, toward the center of the boat, and each human he met along the way found their blades deflected either wide or high, and before they could recover, were laying as their lifeblood spilled from their wounds. Aldrien advanced farther with each kill he made.
"Aldrien!" the fairy called over the ring of steel blades and the cries of men, "the mage is atop the mainmast!"
The assassin nodded and turned back around, catching a parry high and slicing in a great arc with his right blade, throwing the man's broadsword far out wide. Across came the left blade, slicing a line across the human's face, and the ugly pirate fell back, clutching the gaping wound where his eyes should have been. Aldrien watched as the wretch fell, and brought his attention back up.
In front of him was the huge ballista, and the Hylian found that the projectile was aimed his direction, and manning the great contraption were six large men, each towering at least one and a half feet over him, and wearing a sneer of sickening delight.
Obviously, Aldrien's head brought a large bounty.
The lever was pulled, the flaming ball launched into the air. Aldrien threw himself backward, his back thudding against the hard wood of the deck so forcefully that one of the boards cracked and he found himself without breath for a brief moment. A few of the battle engaged humans even paused to regard the spectacle, wondering if the graceful elf had indeed been hit by the ball.
But the projectile shot past, right over Aldrien's head, and into the Mianeri's side. Wood splintered and boards cracked, and in a bright fury the once beautiful ship went up in devastating flames.
As if the now flaming ship was not enough, the three fourths of the Mianeri's crew that had not boarded the pirates' ship found themselves faced with a new, unfamiliar challenge: death by water or fire. The majority chose water, dove in head first, and took their chances in the icy, shark infested oceans. But a few valiant humans dove into the fire, coming out in a flaming ball of burning flesh and bone and clothing, jumping the long distance to the other ship, sending the deck ablaze and then falling into the oceans to their deaths.
"My bow!"
Aldrien literally jumped to his feet and sprinted to the side of the ship, watching as the Mianeri, and several of its crewmen, sank to their deaths. He leaned over the railing, watching intently as his bow sank to the bottom of the sea, and for a brief moment, found himself mourning the loss of such a precious item. However, his mourning was brief, for he was jolted back to reality by a sharp, searing pain in his left shoulder.
Aldrien whirled on his heel, turning with a wince to face his attacker. It was the mage, an elderly human dressed inflowing brown robes, who carried at his side a pouch–one that Aldrien could only assume held materials necessary to cast spells.
"Master Aldrien," the human began with a smirk, "it is good to see you again."
"Tairan Undotrieal–first mage to Kimmendell–the man responsible for the constant scryings and summonings in the castle. I was certain that the last demon you summoned had killed you–and had you escaped that fate–Kimmendell was to kill you."
"Ah, but my master summoned me once again, and if I succeed in my new mission, my place in the palace is to be restored to me without question."
"And your mission," Aldrien prodded, gripping his blades eagerly, "is to collect my lifeblood for the resurrection of Marik?"
Tairan was taken back, if only briefly. "How do you know?"
"Well," the assassin replied dryly, the edge in his voice quite apparent, "had I not guessed by the fact that you are currently attacking me without provocation, there is also the fact that a black mage is seabound. Correct me if I am mistaken, Tairan, but I do believe that mages dislike water," he paused for a moment, "you are literally hunting me–you killed my crew and sank the ship that was giving me uninterrupted passage to Calhoun."
"Calhoun?" Tairan interjected smartly, "you are a fool to disclose your destination to me."
"You will be dead before your chance to pursue me further comes," Aldrien replied, "I have no fear of you nor any of your–quite dead–pirate friends following me anywhere."
The mage took another look at the deck of the ship, where every one of his pirate men lay dead or mortally wounded, next to one or more of the former crew of the Mianeri. He returned his icy gaze to Aldrien then, staring long and hard at the young assassin, and readied himself for the attack. "But you must remember, Aldrien of the House of Royals, first blood is mine."
It was at that moment that the twin long knives sprang into action, diving forward in a double thrust high, immediately putting the mage on his heels–a dangerous position for any adversary, skilled in the art of fighting or not. That particular moment was no exception.
Blades whirred and spun, but Tairan parried each swing skillfully with the metal gauntlets that adorned his robed arms, regaining his footing enough to begin chanting a slight dweomer to put himself on the offensive. And as the blades continued their graceful routine, Tairan pulled from the leather pouch a small dirk and a long piece of black cloth that could easily have been used as a blindfold. He then dove to the side, tucking his shoulders underneath himself and into a headlong roll, coming up well out of the reach of Aldrien's long knives.
Tairan called out the final words of his spell, throwing his materials in the air. But, he had not counted on the tiny moment before the spell took effect, and Aldrien had. He launched his knives, blade over hilt, calling upon Din for her fiery gifts, and watched with near glee as the flaming steel drove into the mage's chest, setting his robes and flesh afire. Tairan screeched in pain and flailed about, throwing the flames to the wood, spreading the fire quickly. Then the spell took effect.
The effects hit hard, stealing the assassin's breath and sight. He found himself doubled over in pain, holding his chest where he had felt the brunt of the spell, as if someone had taken a long, thick-bladed dirk and drove it deep into his lungs and heart.
With one final blurred and darkened glance up at Tairan's withering form, and collapsed to the fiery deck of the sinking schooner.
Sound. The sound of breathing, steady and rhythmic. It poured into the assassin prince's ears like the din of battle until he could stand it no more and was forced to push his eyes open, straining and squinting against the candlelight that poured in.
Aldrien pushed himself to his elbows and leaned against the feather pillow under his back. He closed his eyes against the blinding firelight and opened them once again, heaving a sigh for he could see, and took a long look at his surroundings.
To his right and against the far wall sat a small table, bolted tight to the studs. He was covered in the finest of satin bedclothes, and near the footboard of the oaken bed laid his fairy, her tiny light dimming and brightening with each breath. But to his chagrin, Aldrien found that the breathing he had heard was not coming from his fairy. Instead, it was from his left, where a petite man sat slumped in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed down.
He was obviously asleep.
The prince swung his feet over the side of his bed and pushed himself up. He staggered for a moment as though drunk, and began the short trek to the door, passing by the sleeping man with the same silent steps that he used in Kakariko. With a creak, he pulled the door to the small cabin open and stepped into the hall. From where he stood, the bustling crew could be heard well, but even above that was the lapping of the ocean waves against the side of the ship.
He nearly fell over when the ship kicked with the impact of one of the waves, barely steadying himself against the wall. Eyes closed, he turned his face to the floor and nearly fell to his knees as he was overwhelmed with nausea and dizziness–how long had he been unconscious? And what had happened after he had killed the wizard?
"I see ye're awake," came a voice from ahead of him. The prince started and looked up, palm against his forehead, and found himself face to face with the man he could only imagine was the first mate of the vessel he was aboard. But he remained silent, even as the human beckoned him to follow him to the deck of the ship.
When the two stepped onto the deck, the entire crew fell silent. The hush was so complete that even the waves seemed to stop, until Aldrien composed himself enough to finally speak confidently.
"What in the nine hells are you staring at? Have you never seen one of my kind before?" he said, the anger apparent in his voice. Never had Aldrien enjoyed being stared at, though through his life he had gotten used to being made a spectacle around the humans, especially those in towns that he had not visited.
"Follow me," the first mate called, waving Aldrien to follow him toward the poop deck, where the single wooden door sat propped open for all to see inside. The prince obliged with no resistance, and allowed himself to be seated inside the messy office, obviously the captain's quarters, behind one of the map-covered tables.
The first mate excused himself with a bow, "I'll see to it that Captain Troe an' Maji are here within a few minutes. 'Scuse me."
Those few minutes seemed like hours to the prince, who remained seated, staring about the room. He took in everything around him, knowing fully that those that had found him were indeed the ones that he had been hunting, and everything that he saw led him to believe that those pirates were on the same mission as he was.
Aldrien pulled the wooden chair up to one of the wooden tables and took one of the maps in his hands. The city of Calhoun had been encircled in red ink, and a small trail of the same ink led outward into the forests of the Other-Lands, branching and continuing on to the outermost edges of the huge parchment.
He looked up when he heard footsteps outside the door, two sets of them, to be precise. One set was heavy, a signature of the human race, but the second set was light, almost inaudible. They were the steps of a Hylian, and this Aldrien knew well.
"I see you've found the maps, Lord Aldrien..."
The door creaked open, and in stepped one of the cleanest looking pirates that Aldrien had ever seen. Aside from the yellowed teeth, the man could easily have passed for a low class noble in the least. But it was the one that stood behind him that startled him the most.
Aldrien rose and took a step toward the door as the captain and his guest stepped into the room, but stopped short when the captain spoke again.
"My Lord, Aldrien of the House of Royals, this be Link'maji... A Hylian, jest like yerself. I," he directed the younger Hylian's attention toward himself, "be Cap'n Troe of the Kriashase. I'm certain you'll find that there be only honorable men aboard this ship. So honorable, in fact, that they agreed to save your miserable life."
"How dare you speak to me like I am some sort of peasant... It was my mission by Lord Kimmendell to arrest the very men aboard this ship, and I will follow through with my..."
"I am sorry, My Lord..."
Aldrien looked to the Hylian opposite him that had interrupted him, and stepped back. Link looked up for the first time since he had entered the room, and stared coldly into the young elf's eyes, sending a shiver down Aldrien's spine as nothing had before.
"But it was upon my orders that Troe saved you. It was my sympathy that saved your cold life, and therefore you will repay me as I see fit. You are still young, and in my eyes that youth means that you are still immature in all aspects of your life. It has been brought to my attention that you are extremely selfish, you care nothing for the lives of others and do not see enough worth in your own life to change yourself for the better. It is for that reason that on pain of death, you will be my subordinate until I fulfill my mission–one of greater import than yours. Is this understood?"
Aldrien narrowed his cerulean eyes at the elf and rested his wrists on the hilts of his blades, "If you prove that you are indeed worthy of the title of my superior, then, and only then, will I agree with you."
"And if I do not?" Link replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Then you and the crew of this vessel will be under arrest in the name of Hyrule's Lord, Kimmendell, and I will be on my way to completing my mission. Do we have an accord?"
"We do."