Disc. = Ch. 1
All right, next chapter! Seems a little longer than usual... Thanks to all of my loyal reviewers! You're comments keep me going.
Ch. 26
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing that place,
The power of the night, the press of the storm,
The post of the foe;
-Robert Browning
A hand, large and rough, reached out to grasp the first boat's side, and Link almost jumped in surprise.
After the night's thick fog rolled in, it had been impossible to see ahead of them, and their contact, aside from distant voices, had been cut off. Now, the light that the strangers carried cut through the thick moist air at close range.
"Steady," Link heard Ichiro murmur to the Guard. Behind him, in the dark, they sat ready, perched with weapons, for a battle.
Abruptly, another hand reached out to grasp their boatside, and a form pulled itself across crafts to land in the front seat beside the Captain.
Captain One-Eyed Deadleg blinked in surprise at the sudden action, and the Guard and sailors alike bristled for a fight.
"K'hoy." The shadowy stranger said simply, and held out a hand to clasp. The Captain paused for a moment, and then grasped the smaller hand in his own beefy grip.
"Harr, I sur'pose that means ahoy," The Captain greeted, shaking the hand. All present relaxed a little from the strain, and Ichiro teetered forward on the boat to take a seat next to the apparent leader.
"Do you understand us?" He said slowly.
The stranger shook his head, and shrugged.
Ichiro cursed under his breath. Link took the opportunity to scoot over near the stranger, and stick out his own hand to be shooken.
"Link," He said slowly. The larger hand came out again and grasped his, and he almost winced at the strong grip. The man took his hand away to thump his chest with, and produced what Link decided must have been his name, also. The name was quickly pronounced, and it sounded strange to his ears.
"I'm afraid I'm no translator," Tappor spoke up. "But I have been learned in the art of body language and hand-face terminology." He looked to Ichiro, and received a nod. After space was made for him, he took a seat by the leader, and held out both hands. He turned his palms upward, and flattened them out, presenting them. The leader's shadowy face was unreadable, but he scratched his head for a moment, thoughtful. He finally reached out a large hand, and held it over Tappor's, pretending to grasp something from it. He held the imaginary object up, seemed to study it, and then tossed it out into the air. Tappor made an excited sound, and nodded. He turned back to the Captain.
"It was he, or his own leader, who received our message for assistance. It seems he also knew how to respond. I believe this means they are a magic-bearing race."
A low murmur set up from the sailors, and the Captain cursed them into silence again. Ichiro turned to Tappor.
"Well? Can they help us?"
Tappor blinked. "I assume that's why they are here."
"They must have been sent out to meet us," Link suggested. "Maybe they have a ship somewhere."
Tappor turned back to the silently watching stranger, and made several more hand gestures, one resembling something floating on a rocky surface. This time, the leader nodded much more quickly, and responded by pointing in the opposite direction from where they had come.
"Ship?" Tappor asked, making the moving gesture from before.
"...Shhhhhhh'p." Their guest finally pronounced, making the same gesture.
"Wonderful!" Tappor exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Link felt his shoulders relax, released from the tension of the long days stranded on boats. Ichiro also seemed to breath an almost sigh of relief. He turned to the Captain.
"Well?"
The Captain tugged on his beard, and squinted at them all in the dark.
"Well, 'earken. 'Pears ta me that we've only one choice 'mongst us, men." He turned to the silently waiting stranger. "Lad, if ye've got a way, then take us!"
Tappor turned to the stranger, and simply nodded. The figure nodded back, and rose to leap back into his own boat. He turned, and in the torchlight, made a gesture for them to follow. The sailors took up the oars again, and they were off.
*************
Morning came quickly for the two different groups. The boats carrying the crew of the New Dawn followed at a small distance behind the two medium-sized keel boats bearing their rescue crew. Link sat in the prow of Ichiro and the Captain's boat, his nerves on edge from the tedious wait. Up ahead, the sea was calm and flat, and he couldn't imagine how the strangers could help them any. He was sore, and exhausted: testaments from the battle with the sea monster, and with the worry for Saria. It wore away at his reserves, and he found his shoulders slumping towards mid-day.
Ichiro, who had joined the leader of their guests on one of the larger keel boats, came back towards sunset, and took a seat by the Captain. Tappor and Link joined them, and Ichiro mapped out a plan.
The blinding light faded slowly, the landscape gradually returning to its natural brightness. Nature, which had ceased its very livelihood in the face of powerful magic, finally began to start up again, strange, beautiful birds resuming their songs, wind playing timidly through the trees. As the light faded, so too did the shadow surrounding the form, suspended in mid-air.
The slave, its body trembling under the sunlight and fresh air, slumped in the tall grasses, silently watching the figure's descent back to the ground. It landed gently, curling up into a ball. He watched it nervously, waiting for it to move.
It didn't.
He rose slowly, shakily, and began to limp forwards, towards the still form, lying in the high, swaying grasses. He shouldn't be afraid of her. After all, she was a slave, too. But all of the other prisoners had treated him like lowly scum, kicking him around every chance they had. However, she was different. He could feel it. Something was familiar about her... her features...
The form stirred, and he fell back, a pure bolt of fear shooting through him. As he hit the ground, he saw the strange figure start to rise, and cowered, covering his pale head with thin, frail arms.
*************
She rose stiffly, letting her heightened senses come alive, first. The wind blew steadily from a southern direction, bringing new and different scents to. Her eyes saw far, taking up the wild, rocky landscape she'd landed them in. A painful sensation caught her attention, and she glanced down at her hand. A hand wrapped in rags, concealing a golden symbol, burning fiercely underneath. The sensation came back to her, and she embraced it, knowing that it was time to once again take charge....
Sheik resituated the rags draped over his clothing, refitting the cloth covering his face snugly . His senses told him that nearby he could find an establishment of some kind. A house, perhaps, by the faint smell of fresh milk and sun-warmed clothing, laid out to dry. He turned carefully, and took in the sight at his feet. The gaunt and pathetic looking Hylian slave cringed as he laid a hand upon its back.
"Rise up." Sheik spoke, his voice soft and melodious.
The slave slowly lifted his head and blinked, blearily, at the strange figure standing above him.
Peculiar red eyes met his own, and he gazed, wide-eyed, reaching out a hand automatically to be pulled up.
"What's your name?" Sheik asked, using the same, vibrant tone as before. The slave stared at him.
"Urk-" He wheezed, trying to reclaim the voice that had left him so long ago.
Sheik waited patiently.
"Ur-... Ur... R... K..k..."
The strange young man nodded, encouraging him. He tried again, straining.
"Koh... Koh... J... Koh...j..."
"Kohj?"
"Kohj...jee... Kohj...ee..."
"Koji? Is there more?"
The slave seemed at loss, and then slowly frowned, his faced creased with exhaustion. Sheik shook his head.
"No matter. That will do." He took the slave's arm, ignoring the cringe, and put it over his shoulder, shifting until he had effectively transferred most of the weight to himself. "There is a house near. We are going there for help. Can you walk?"
The slave, overwhelmed, merely nodded, and allowed the strange, quiet young man to support him as they walked.
*************
RedEye made his way down the walkway almost reluctantly. He expected the girl's condition to be no different. It had been three days since she had slipped into the deep, cursed sleep, and he could do nothing to rouse her. It seemed as though she had reached her limit in captivity, and had simply slipped into oblivion. His face fell into a grimace as he turned to corner, and saw her laid out on the mess table.
The ship's healer, who had been standing over her, shaking his head, looked up in surprise.
"Capt'n," He started. "I didn't see ya there... The lass is still sleepin' fitfully. Don't think there's gonna be any more change-"
"Fine," RedEye interrupted curtly. "Call in three men to wrap her up."
"Wrap 'er up?" The healer echoed, his face creasing into dismay. "But-"
"Do it," The angry captain snapped. The healer nodded, and left quickly. RedEye watched him go, and then turned back to the sleeping form. He walked up to the girl, and folded his arms behind his back. "Too bad," He muttered to himself, a scowl on his face. "You are a rare, wild sort of beauty, but alas, beauty fades, especially with corpses." He turned away, and idly stepped over to the small bow someone had hung on a rope rung. The quiver, empty and collapsed, lay on a supply box a few feet away. RedEye took both of them from their places, and took a seat on the box to study them. The bow was of Deku wood, he recognized its special coloring and strength quickly. But where would a girl like that get a bow of Deku wood? Deku products, like staffs, bedframes, doors, and cabinets, were expensive, but available. A Deku weapon, however, was a rare artifact. A Kokiri artifact.
Hmm.
*************
The sea went on, its rhythmic splashing and sloshing lulling him into a light stupor. He felt the sunlight on his face, warming him. It was nice to be out on such a nice day. Nice to be out and about, doing something. It was so different out here, not so much worry, not so much trouble... Less chance of surprise, because there wasn't anywhere to hide.
Link yawned, stretching out a little bit more. This was truly the life for him. No worries, no cares. No fights, no trouble... No swords... Well, his sword, but that was all right, he wasn't going to use it. Besides, he didn't need to. There was no danger to watch for, nothing to guard against...
Link...
His eyes snapped open, and he sat up. The sand around him had risen higher, covering his submerged legs. He shook it from his legs and tunic, and rose, staring around wildly at the strange trees and shore.
Don't... Don't...
"Saria..." He mumbled, taking a few shaky steps forward. This was by far the strangest of the illusions. Yes, just an illusion... not real. He shook his head to clear the strange scene before him, but it would not fade, and he whirled around as the warm sea-breeze seemed to whisper to him.
Beware the sun.
He glanced up towards the sun in confusion. "The sun? How? The sun is just-"
High above, almost invisible against the bright orb's fire, he saw a shape, long and sinuous, collecting like a dark cloud. Link felt a cold fear shoot through him, and instinctively took a step back. The surf and sun of paradise was gone, and he was stumbling, back, back, into the clouded, murky waters...
Link reeled out of sleep, crying out in surprise, as the world suddenly shifted, and he found himself looking up into the late-night sky. He was temporarily blinded, so great the difference of light and dark, and he rubbed his eyes to see again. In the darkness, a hand reached out, and grasped his shoulder.
"Belay matey, are ya well?"
Link jumped under the contact, and blinked, straining his eyes to see into the fresh darkness. The sailor who had grasped his shoulder retracted his hand, and Link nodded.
"I'm... I'm fine. Just... a bad dream." I pray to the Goddesses that's all it was...
He sighed, and pulled off his hood, running a hand through flattened hair. It refused to stand up, though, and he left it alone, situating the cap back on his head. His eyes had finally adjusted to the dark, and he watched the sailor nod.
"Times'r'tough fer lads like yerself, cully. I don' b'lieve the seas any place fer farmboys, tho', yer much 'preciated. Only, I'd wish yer'd be back in a good bunk somewheres, instead'o 'ere, 'avin' to sit an' 'ear an old dog like meself, yakkin' away at t' moon."
Link was oddly touched by the gruff statement, and shook his head.
"No, I'm glad I'm here. Sailors or farmboys, we're all here for the same cause, right? No sense in regretting things... Here, give me that paddle. I think it's my turn now."
The sailor chuckled, and scooted out of the way, allowing Link to take his position.
"No skin off my back if yer wan't ta go and break yor arms on that, messmate." He warned, grinning at the youth's show of enthusiasm.
"No problem," Link gritted out, pulling the surprisingly heavy and resistant oar around to cut through the water. The sailor laughed, and took up Link's earlier spot, wrapping a cape around himself to keep warm.
"Keep that paddlin' up, me bucko. I'm gonna try for sum shuteye."
Link nodded, concentrating on not tearing his arms out of their sockets while rowing. The other three sailors rowing on the boat called out helpful hints every once in a while, and Link sooner or later began to get a feel for the toil.
*************
The girl on the porch, sweeping diligently away at any gathered dirt, took one quick glance at the approaching figures, and dropped the broom. She raced inside, and returned a moment later with her father, who had been smoking his afternoon pipe. The elder Majjorian squinted at the horseback riders coming towards his house, and then ushered his daughter in. He stepped down from the porch, and came out to meet them on the dusty rockway.
The head rider halted his mount by the farmer's side, and looked down.
"The Sirs of Majora's Keep are looking for two persons, hence, I will describe them for you." He pulled a thin scroll from his belt, and unrolled it, reading it off. "One person, skin of a translucent white and pointed ears, is of a thin, skeletal build, and is male. The other person, of fair skin and pointed ears, is of an average, lean build, and is female. The latter person, who has long, yellow gold-colored hair, and sky-blue eyes, may or may not be in a dress. Both persons do not speak intelligible language, and are considered to be savages, and dangerous. If you are to see them, notify a horsemen of Majora's Keep immediately, and help will be sent to suppress and retake them." The horsemen rolled the scroll back up, and nodded curtly.
The farmer nodded back. "If I see them, then I will do as much."
He watched the horsemen turn away, and kept his watch until they disappeared over the hilly rise, towards the distant snow-capped mountains.
"Da!" A voice called, and he turned back towards the house to see his daughter jogging towards him, her plain wool dress swishing against her calf-high boots.
"S'Lora!" Her father said firmly. "Did I not make so plain to you, some moments ago, that I did not want you out here now?"
"But I reply, then, that they are not here anymore, da!" She cried, coming up to stand by him. He was about to reprimand her, but sighed, and gave up, turning to look towards the hill the riders had disappeared over. His daughter looked at him anxiously. "What, when they came, did they want? Each one, man and horse, was of Majora's Keep, were they not?" He nodded, and turned to start back towards their house, where his wife was already stand in the doorway worriedly.
"They both, as I stand here, were from that very place." He sighed, bading her to follow him. She hesitated for a moment, bright eyes far away on the distant mountain peaks, before turning to jog after him.
*************
An hour after the riders had taken the same route, Sheik and the freed slave, Koji, mounted the hill sloping down towards the homey looking cottage. Smoke rose in a thin stream from the chimney on the roof, and around the house, cuckoo-like birds hopped about, scratching at the dirt. The former slave groaned, slipping towards the ground. Sheik caught the exhausted Hylian again, and lifted him to his feet.
"Come," He said softly, "It isn't far now." He flicked his eyes up at the sound of a door swinging shut, and spotted a figure on the porch, looking out in another direction. Sheik re-wrapped the Hylian's frail arm around his neck, and supported him down the gentle hill, towards the house. After they had moved closer, the figure finally turned, and spotted them. The girl, for that was what it was, started in surprise, and froze. She stayed glued to the spot until they had almost reached the porch, before turning and racing into the house, calling out to someone within. Sheik stopped again at the porch, and let Koji lean against the railing. It took several minutes for the farmer to appear, this time with a rusty old fencing sword gripped shakily in his nerveless hands.
"Who, as you stand, be you?" He called out as gruffly as possible. Already he recognized the one leaning against his porch as the skinny male the horsemen had spoken of. But the figure was worse than he had thought. It would have almost been monstrous in appearance if he hadn't recognized the malnutrition, whip marks, and abuse inflicted upon its frame. He knew the signs.
Sheik stepped forward.
"I am Sheik, the last of the Sheikahs. And this is Koji, a former slave. We wish to seek refuge in your home." Sheik was aware, even as he spoke, that the man could not understand any of his words. Nor could he understand the man's. Instead, he turned to sign language, and held out his bandaged hands, palm up, to signify peace.
The farmer had lived a hard life, and had seen many things. He was not fooled by the horsemen, or the two seeming beggars at his porch. Neither of the two before him were of his race, and it made a slight shiver go down his spine. However, he was no friend of the infamous sons of Majora, the two dangerous youths who lived at the keep just north of his land. Hesitating only for a moment, he gave a silent prayer up to the Gods, and stepped aside, motioning for the two to enter. Sheik bowed low, and turned to help Koji up from his stoop against the porch. The two stepped inside the farmhouse, and the farmer, his eyes nervous, closed the door solidly behind them.
Towards sunset, Link caught sight of a dark smudge on the horizon, steady and unmoving. He pointed it out to Ichiro.
"What do you think it is?"
Ichiro squinted out over the water, frowning. "Its big, whatever it is. Maybe an island."
"Tis no island." The Captain muttered, tugging his beard. "She's movin'."
"Moving?" Tappor asked. He wiped the sea-spray from his spectacles, and donned them, peering out into the dying sunlight. "How can you tell?"
"I c'n tell." Deadleg answered, folding his beefy arms over his chest. Link looked at him.
"But you said she. 'She' as in a ship?"
"Aye," The Captain responded, giving him a gruff look.
"Then that's the biggest damned ship I've ever seen," Ichiro growled, moving forward to sit at the prow. "It must be our rendezvous."
"They really make ships that big?" Link asked in awe. Deadleg shrugged.
"In some places, lad. Not in 'Yrule anymore, mind yer. End o' the ship ind'stry mean' there were no more reas'ns ter have 'em. The New Dawn was the bigges', bless 'er." He sniffed. He fell silent, and the rest followed his example. They all sat forward, strained, ready, for better or worse, to see what dawn would bring.