Disclaimers are in chapter 1. Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! Its nice to know how you feel about how the story's going. Tao, I'm working on it. As the story progresses, I'm trying to improve my style. All right, here we go. I foresee more bad guy material in the next chapter.
Ch. 22
There is a Power whose care
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast-
The desert and illimitable air-
Lone wandering, but not lost.
-William C. Bryant
Ichiro strode down the deck restlessly, followed by a frustrated Captain. He paused several times in intervals, and clasped the side of the gunwall with whitened knuckles. Tappor, who had been engaged in a one-sided in-depth discussion of deep-sea fishing with several harried sailors, spotted him, and came over.
"Good Chief," He enunciated, catching Ichiro's annoyed look. "I do believe it is time for a conference to be held on our whereabouts and situation, don't you agree?" Ichiro opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself, and gave a jerk of his head.
"Captain," He said coolly, and left the two there. The Captain looked after him with a sigh, tugging on his beard habitually.
"Chiefs takin' it 'ard," He said to the scholar, thoughtful. Tappor huffed.
"True, he should be more 'on top' of the situation at hand," The little Hylian said, nodding, "Though the ship is doomed, we've lost a dear friend, the Princess has been kidnapped, we may not see the next setting of the sun, Hyrule is doom-"
"A'right a'right!" The Captain cried, eyeing him fiercely. "'Tis a mess! But 'earken, the Chief is takin' it pers'nully."
Tappor nodded again.
"He considers his work at fault," He finally said. "He deems himself responsible."
"Fer wot?" The Captain growled.
"For everything, my good man," Tappor responded, removing his worn spectacles to dust them off. "For everything."
*************
That night the moon had waxed to fullness, and the sea was illuminated, eerily cast in the lunar light. The waves rose towards the sky, and the ship swayed tenaciously under them.
The meeting had been called towards midnight, and all of the crew had congregated in the mess quarters. The tables were once again full, though this time an air of uneasiness and fear was took up what had once been excitement. Link took a seat beside Tappor, who having spotted some of the sailors' tattoos, had started a new conversation on the art.
Link tapped his fingers on the table impatiently, his eyes focused on the shadowy forms of the Captain and Ichiro, cast in a flickering light from the torches. So intent was he on this that it took several minutes for him to realize that Tappor had been calling his name. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to the scholar.
"I do hope you're sound," Tappor said. "You've been quite aloof and lethargic this day. May I rightly presume it to be old wounds acting up?"
"...Yeah," Link responded, tracing a groove in the worn surface of the table. "I haven't exactly been resting up like I should have been..." The noise in the room began to die down, and they both looked up to see Ichiro stepping forward.
"If we're all here now, I'd like for this meeting to commence." The Chief began. All faces turned to him, eyes intent. "The coast of Mijjori is approximately three weeks journey from here, if we continue at the same speed as now. The problem is, we have around two days left before the ship fills, and begins to capsize."
A new round of voices raised, as the sailors and soldiers began to speak in worried tones.
"QUIET!" The Captain roared, slamming a hand into the same unfortunate table as always. The whole party jumped, and even Ichiro's eyes widened slightly. In the silence that followed, Ichiro continued.
"Ahem, well, our goal is to maintain the present speed, but we'll begin to prepare the keel boats with our supplies. Also, as of tonight, a message will be sent out over the water to find any help we can. It will be received, and sent back as a guide to us."
Another low murmur began, and before the Captain could become outraged again, Tappor rose and cleared his throat.
"I was not aware we had the means to send a message! How will we perceive that bearers who collect it are not hostile?" Several heads nodded at this. Ichiro sighed.
"We have no way of knowing. As of now, our lives are in the hands of the Goddesses and Fate."
Fate.
Link clenched his fists. He hated the word, hated the control it had. Not that he blamed the Goddesses, his peoples' patrons, for it. No, fate was its own evil, it seemed to control and master, dominate and enslave. He closed his eyes tightly.
I told you we would control our own fate, he thought. And I promise we will... I won't wait for destiny to hand me something... From now on, I'm in control!
He dropped his fists on the table in front of him heavily, and rose in the hubbub created by the latest news. Several watched him go curiously, but none rose to interfere.
*************
Link walked out on the top deck, the icy northern breeze blowing in from the sea to chill him. It didn't disturb him, though, and he wandered out to the bowsprit. Far away, in the darkness, he wondered, was Saria looking out at the night too? Did they let her, or did they keep her locked up in a cell?
His fists clenched, and he threw out hand to hit the wheel in frustration. He couldn't do anything for his friend now. Not that I ever could, he thought bitterly. No matter what she said, I was always weak...
"I'm no hero," He whispered. "I can't even protect anyone... I'm always being protected!" He slammed both fists down on the gunwall, and winced, pulling them back to see splinters in his new gloves. Here the wood was new, and not altogether smoothed out of rough edges. He sighed, and picked them out one by one. The last drew a bead blood, and he wiped the smudge away. The ship suddenly rocked on a particularly uneven wave, and a spray of cold seawater came up and hit him in the face, making him draw in a breath at the sudden chill. He looked down.
Had the level of water risen around the ship, or was it just his imagination?
It probably had.
Link reached out behind him, and felt the comforting grip of his blade. He pulled it out of its plain casing, and studied it in the moonlight.
It was a good, strong blade, made by skilled Goron hands, and had a keen edge, and a single bloodchannel down its center. He rotated his wrist, watching the moonlight dance across it, and felt himself warming to it. Soon, he was dancing, bringing the blade around in slashes, lunges, and parries. The weight felt good, and he brought both hands together to clasp it, twisting and leaping to battle imaginary foes.
The sailors on duty turned to watch, and looked on in awed silence at the display of natural skill.
*************
Ichiro, who had stayed behind to speak to the Captain, stretched his stiff arms and headed towards the stairs. He was tired now, but his mind was alive with the danger he and his crew were now in, and he could not rest. No amount of training could have prepared them for the problem that faced them now. He stepped out into the night, and drew a deep breath of the salty air, before pausing suddenly.
Somewhere near, he could hear the faint whistle of a blade, and the heavy breathing of its wielder. The Chief looked around himself, and started up the open stairway to the top deck, stopping in surprise.
*************
Link, unaware of the crowd he had attained, grasped the blade in one hand and swept it around in a full circle in a move he had made up. The sword sang as it whirred around, and he ended it abruptly where he had begun.
Only now, as he halted, did he hear clapping, and he stood up straight to see several crewmembers watching with grins.
"Grea' Farore!" One shouted. "That was fantast'c, lad!" The others nodded, and Link lowered his weapon arm sheepishly. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a tall figure, and turned to see Ichiro watching quietly. The Chief of Guard stepped forward.
"Not bad." He said. "Surprising, actually. I didn't think you knew what that thing was for. I guess I was wrong..."
"That another compliment?" Link called bravely. Ichiro's now pale-gray eyes widened, and then narrowed.
"I give them where I see them," He growled, and came forward. Link took a step back, but Ichiro only held out a hand. "Hand me the blade. I'll tell you if it's a Goron blade or not." Link hesitated, and then reluctantly handed the sword to him. "If you want to stay in one piece, you had better step back." Ichiro warned. Link sighed, and did so.
Immediately, Ichiro started in a slow warm-up move, bringing the blade twisting around in a curve. Soon, though, before the watching eyes, the blade began to move faster and faster, until it was a blur. The wind around the blade whistled, and the moonlight flashed over it in a dull, winking gleam, giving it an even greater effect.
Link's eyes widened in amazement. If Ichiro made one wrong move now it could cost him a limb. Instead, he finally slowed the blade down, and switched hands in the blink of an eye, hefting the blade in his left hand.
"Good size," He said, the look of fierce concentration leaving his face. "But at a good weight, also. This is a Goron blade: you can tell by the balance. It gives the wielder strength, but speed; its a medium." He held the blade out hilt first, and Link took it back dumbly. "Start with drills," He told him curtly. "If you just slash around like that, you'll stress your shoulder and back muscles." Link nodded again, and the Chief left the top deck in the surrounding silence.
"'Mazin'," One of the crew finally said. "They say 'e be the best in the land. An' now that I seen it fer meself, I er'gree."
"If e's so great," Another said. "Wot 'appened back at the castle?"
" 'oo knows?" Was the response, as the Ichiro's sturdy form disappeared into the shadows below deck. "P'raps 'e ran? P'raps 'e lost. P'raps thats wots got 'em so tied up, mate." There were several 'aye's, as the crew shook their heads, and dispersed back to their posts. Link stood looking down a moment longer.
Is that what happened? Link thought. Did you feel weak like I do? Did you fail the ones you care for?
He sighed, leaning on his sword, and twisted the tip of the blade idly into the wooden deck, the desire to practice gone.
Maybe they weren't so different after all.
*************
The following morning found the hull several more inches below water, the waves coming up and sometimes over the gunwall. Several crewmen stood ready with buckets and mops to soak up the errant water, and all were in a state of anxiety.
Link had again taken the watch up in the crow's nest. He needed his mind to be focused on something, anything, and the watch kept him at alert. Down below, the Guard drilled, and he switched between watching the open waters and watching their skilled practice.
They were the best of the best, the elite that Hyrule had needed and that Ichiro had made. Each soldier was the picture of fighting perfection in its species, well trimmed and shaped into warriors. He sighed and drummed his fingers on the watch's edge.
"Vvvvvvvvvv!"
Link jerked at the sound, and looked around in bafflement. A small shadow darted overhead, and he looked up to see a bright light dancing around. It crackled with energy, giving off a white, brilliant light. Link had to squint his eyes against the brilliance of it, and shade his eyes. It darted to and fro a for a moment longer, and then shot right for him.
"Whoa!" He yelped, ducking down into the nest to dodge it.
"Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv!" It seemed to call, and swooped back around and towards him. This time, he wasn't fast enough, and it ran into this shoulder, falling back for a moment before it shot up and began to dart around again. Link felt his shoulder, but there was no burn, and he suddenly realized why.
"Oh... Um, Captain!" He cupped his mouth and leaned over the watch's side. "Captain!!!! Someone get the Captain!"
One of the Guard halted his swordplay, and turned to look up. "What is it?" He called. He spotted the light, and halted the rest of the men, who gathered forward. One of the soldiers raced down below deck to fetch Ichiro, and the Captain likewise came bursting out of his cabin.
"Wot is it now?" He bellowed, glaring at the crew. "Who's callin'?"
"The watch," Someone responded. Deadleg squinted up fiercely, and spotted the light circling around Link.
"Shiver me timbers!" He rumbled. "You thar, fetch the Chief!"
"No need," Ichiro called, having just ascended. "I'm here..." He turned to Tappor, a frown on his face. "That's your magic. Care to deal with it?"
Tappor situated his spectacles, and gave Ichiro a look.
"Certainly," He responded, waddling forward. Once he had come up to the mizzenmast, Tappor held up his hands, cupped to the air, and the bright light suddenly dipped and plummeted, diving into his outstretched hands.
The crew immediately swarmed forward in curiosity as he studied the light in his hands, and Link climbed down from the nest to see.
"Well?" Ichiro asked in impatience.
"Do find some restraint," Tappor responded. He then lapsed into silence as Link came to stand beside him. Finally, he moved his hands around, flattening the palms as the light seemed to solidify. "Ah, yes..."
"Wot is it?" One impatient sailor called out.
"Just a moment..." Tappor began. "Observe!" The light suddenly seemed to flicker, and then started to change between several colors, finally landing on white again. "There!" Tappor said with satisfaction. "It has detected another ship!"
A cheer was thrown up, and they crowded around closer. The Captain, however, set upon them, pushing any unfortunate body away.
"Steady now!" He roared. They immediately fell to grumbling, and then silence at his glare. "Now go on, Schol'r, sir."
Tappor nodded, his short, round shoulders sagging from the magic's strain.
"They are perhaps fifty-five nautical miles away. Less than a week at our present speed, I believe."
"Except for the fact that we'll be stranded by sunset tomorrow." Ichiro muttered in impatience. The crew began to murmur, but suddenly fell silent as Link began to speak.
"Wait!" He stopped them. "We have the keel boats. All we have to do is make sure all of our stuff is together, and then we can leave the ship before it capsizes!"
"Then wot?" Someone called out.
"Then... we wait." Link shrugged. "They already know we need help, so they'll be hurrying."
Several heads began to nod, and the crew relaxed slightly. Tappor took this time to affirm Link's words.
"The spell's colors indicate that not only has our message been received, but that our correspondence will now be rushing to meet us."
Finally, the crew was appeased, and began to wander away, talking amongst themselves. This was cut short by the captain, however, who came roaring after them. They quickly ran back to their posts, and the morning calmed somewhat.
Ichiro came to stand by Tappor and Link.
"Scholar," He growled. "That had better be accurate."
"Oh, I can assure you it is," Tappor responded calmly, disbanding the solid-looking light away. "This sort of magic has been used for quite some time, although, not overseas, mind you."
"One problem." Link interrupted. "How can we tell these people aren't more pirates?"
"We can't," Ichiro responded. "All we can do is just wait and pray. The chances of us even making contact were very slim."
"Is there a possibility that its RedEye?" Link finally asked uneasily.
"Could be," Ichiro grunted. Abruptly, he left them, and went back across the deck to the waiting Guard. Tappor and Link watched him go.
"Maybe it would be better to be stuck out here." Link muttered, flexing his hands in anxiety. Tappor shrugged.
"I believe our good Chief is right. In this, at least. All we may do is wait, and hope for the best. I say, however, to look at the good side of everything. If it is RedEye, then we will be that much closer to rescuing Saria."
Link looked at him in surprise. "Yeah... I guess." He finally shrugged, thoughtful. Tappor chuckled at his expression, and excused himself to go and look at his scrolls. Link was left standing by himself, and he turned to look out anxiously onto the open waters.