Disclaimers in Chapter 1

Chapter 30

Out through the fields and the woods

And over the walls I have wended;

I have climbed the hills of view

And looked at the world, and descended;

I have come by the highway home,

And lo, it is ended.

-Robert Frost

Sheik lowered the waterskin with a sigh, pulling his mask up snugly. The sun beat down mercilessly on them, and he wiped his brow. He caught S'Lora's watching eyes, and offered the waterskin. She stepped forward tentatively, and took it.

They had been traveling the better part of two days down the dusty wagon-rutted road towards the coast. Two small towns had marked their journey along the path, and they'd stopped once in the second town to pick up some supplies with the coins S'Lora carried. The small gold, silver, and brass round pieces of metal had left Sheik bemused. Koji stayed silent, shying away from the town and meeting up with them again on the road beyond.

After S'Lora had sipped from the waterskin, Sheik put it back in the sack he carried on his back, motioning with his head for his companions to join him. Koji pulled himself up with a groan from his dusty seat on the sideway. S'Lora had remained almost as quiet as the ex slave since their escape in the night, her thoughts no doubt on her parents.

Sheik felt a pang of sympathy for her, watching her silent form from the corner of his eye. She would not know for many leagues that she was an orphan.

He straightened up, catching her attention, and pointed ahead of them, down the road towards the horizon.

"T'lar?" He asked, pronouncing the word carefully.

"Un," She said softly, after a quiet sniffle. She resituated the straps to the bag on her back, peering ahead of them. "Though, as I know, this is not the way to K'Gar." She bit her lip, and looked shyly at the warrior. Unreadable red eyes gazed back at her briefly, before flickering forward again.

"K'Gar," the warrior said, his accent making the word colorful. His voice was softer than any man's she knew, though it was true she did not know many. Her father's voice was gruff and deep, and a rich sound when he laughed or sang. She blinked back sudden tears, and took a deep breath, averting her face from the road to keep her weakness secret. Sheik allowed her the moment, casting his eyes back to Koji.

"What is K'Gar?"

Koji jerked, surprised from wherever his mind had wandered. He looked up, dark eyes flickering. "B…big city." He seemed to consider it long, his pronounced collarbone shifting as he took a breath. At last, he shrugged. "Biggest."

Sheik nodded, his sharp ears picking up the sounds of civilization nearby. "All right… I think we are getting close…" He held up a hand to halt his companions. S'Lora wiped her eyes discreetly. The Sheikah warrior hesitated, considering his approach. At last, he held up a hand, and pointed down the road.

"T'lar." He said clearly. S'Lora nodded slowly. Sheik nodded back, then drew his hand back to himself, and then to Koji. "We are with you." Her brows furrowed, and he pointed at his mask, and then shook his head. "You will be our voice." He then pointed at her, and then drew close enough to show her he was gesturing towards her mouth. At once, she blushed, understanding.

"Un… I will, in this strange town, speak for us!" She pointed at herself, and took the leader, feeling both enthusiastic to see the coast, and nervous that she'd do something wrong and blow their cover. This, as I breathe, is not as easy as I thought it!

Sheik took a breath, the mask across his mouth fluttering, and nodded. "I hope we understand each other," he said softly. Koji's ears twitched, having heard the comment, and his brow furrowed. Sheik gestured for them to catch up.

They made good time down the road, taking a turn off the path finally at a wooden sign hammered into the earth.

"T'lar" S'Lora read slowly, pronouncing the word as she drew a finger across the carved letters. Being a travel guide for two foreign fugitives wasn't what she expected her first adventure to be like, but she had begun to warm to the role. Along the grassy hillocks that led towards the coastal town, she pointed out various objects and animals, naming them, and listening in amusement as they attempted to mimic her. Sheik, with the careful, soft syllables, and Koji, hesitant and gradual.

As they walked, Sheik suddenly pointed up, saying something with the ring of a question in his voice. S'Lora, unable to spot what it was, shifted closer to him, distracted by the sky overhead. At last, she had seen the small bird, and given him the name for it. She'd looked down to smile at his attempt at the name, and realized with a shock that they were almost the same height.

Perhaps, in his land, he is average, she mused, casting a quick peek at Koji, who was also small, if more lanky.

As she opened her mouth to name a hard root Koji had snatched up from the earth, a piercing scream rent the air. Her head snapped up, and Koji dropped the root, his gaunt body rigid.

Sheik blinked, sensing for the direction of the sound. A gentle breeze blew over the high salt grasses, bringing with it the sounds of battle.

"Come!" He said softly, bolting forward. He was already reaching for the thin knives in his bag before his two companions caught up.

RedEye narrowed his good eye, shot through with more red than usual. The last leg of the BloodWave's journey had been a harrowing one, filled with unexpected weather, even for the partially sub tropic climate Mijjori boasted.

A violent storm, complete with a shower of fish over the sails and middecks, had been the last trouble on the voyage's end, and only extreme fear and loyalty had kept the superstitious pirates from walking their comatose prisoner, as well as their dangerous captain. No storm could truly measure up to RedEye's legendary cruelty.

Despite his earlier misgivings, something in RedEye's sly brain whispered to him to keep his stolen prize aboard, despite his beliefs that she indeed had something to do with the weather. In all of his years as the Terror of the Seas, he'd never experienced such virulent conditions.

A rap on his cabin door drew his attention from several documents he was perusing. "Come."

The door crack open, revealing the grizzled features of one of his men, a quick-eyed Hylian who had been sailing as a pirate so long he'd forgotten his birthplace long ago. He was his captain's senior by some years, but was no fool- A fact that had won him his position, and his life.

"Cap'n," he rasped. "S'landfall"

RedEye lowered his quill, looking up sharply. "But?"
The pirate nodded, having expected the question. "S'trouble wi' the Mijj's."

RedEye rose in a smooth motion, the pirate backing up quickly as his captain strode past him, slamming the door open and taking the deck.

Choppier waves met the ship, as it drew closer to the coast, and RedEye wove in-between pirates as they bustled about, tying up the rigs on the largest sail as they began to slow. His Second-in-Command approached, saluting respectfully. RedEye kept his pale rose eye on the approaching coastline's fishing village. "Speak."

"Steady!" The Second roared, to the man at the wheel. He turned to his captain. "Sir, thar be trouble..." He grimaced at the anger that flashed across RedEye's face.

"There has been nothing since trouble since we've begun this accursed voyage." The soft tones were laced with venom.

"Aye," the Second spoke. "An' now we be denied safe land." He pointed towards the steadily growing outline of the village. Beyond the shore, on the water, a dark shape had pushed out, and after a moment the smudge become a small boat. "A handful o' lads wen' ou', an' came back wi' the ba' news. I reckon thar be the Mijj's ter tell us."

RedEye took in a deep breath of the sea breeze, patiently noting the position of the sun overhead. The Second-in-Command waited, knowing better than to speak up now. Instead, he eased forward on the gunwall, squinting out at the now visible shapes of a fishing crew on the small craft, along with what looked like a few official busybodies from the fishing town.

"T'lar has always been our trading partner," RedEye spoke up at last, a sneer in his voice. The burly pirate nodded. "Aye, tha' it be."

After another moment of silence, in which the crew returned to their positions, RedEye finally nodded, turning to his Second. "Welcome them aboard."

"Aye," the pirate said, a wicked grin creeping across his features. "Drink 'n vittles 'n all, Sir?"

His captain nodded, his eye darkening as he narrowed it in thought. "Yes. Be sure to welcome all of them, too. I don't want anyone missing out on the hospitality of the BloodWave."

The nearest crewmembers who had heard their words began to chuckle, and sharpen their blades, understanding the words for what they were.

Below deck, RedEye paused, changing direction to take him down farther. Stolen supplies, as well as ones traded with other pirates, were held in storage on the bottom deck of the ship. RedEye wound his way down, receiving curious looks masked with fearful salutes. A guard was stationed at the doorway to the cargo room, and was nodding off at the entrance, slumped in a chair a scimitar flat across his lap.

RedEye whipped forward stealthily, grabbing the scimitar and pulling it back. He waited silently, but the pirate did not budge from his stupor, content at the start of his shift that he'd have no trouble on the bottom deck.

RedEye smiled, the expression overtaking his features and transforming them into something evil. He let his hand snap forward, and he brought the flat of the scimitar around in a whistling arc.

"Aagh!"

The flat up the blade slammed into the side of the pirate's face, snapping his head to the side as he crashed to the floor. RedEye crouched, hauling him up by the front of his tunic and delivering another blow to his right cheek, and sending him reeling.

"C…Cap'n!" He whimpered, watching blood and saliva dribble onto the deck below him. Several crewmembers came running, having heard the commotion, and RedEye caught the stunned pirate by the belt of his tunic, slipping the blade in between the fabric and the belt and slicing it neatly.

The crewmembers stopped at a distance, watching their captain uneasily.

"Gather every crewmember who takes this watch," RedEye said softly, pointing the curved blade at the nearest man. "I want them all stripped and on deck by the time I get back up there."

They saluted shakily, one of them having been a watch an hour earlier, and hauled the bleeding pirate up.
RedEye watched them leave, turning and driving the tip of the blade into the seat. The blade stood quivering where it had landed, driven deeply into the now split wood. He wiped his hands on his leggings, and proceeded through the doorway.

Once through, he made his way towards the back of the cargo, where the young prisoner had been kept.

Her breathing was still shallow, with no further signs of life from when he had first found her in the strange sleep like state. Someone had washed her some time ago, and the wounds on her face had healed mostly, leaving her pale features to contrast starkly with the strange hair that framed her face. Sometimes, the ship healer had commented, she seemed to dream, and to speak in her dreams. It wasn't often, though, and he himself had never witnessed it. Despite his own superstitions, along with his crew's, something had kept him from disposing of her on the remainder of the voyage. The same maddening force that drove him back to her bedside time and again.

He gazed down at her impassively. So T'lar would no longer be their Mijjorian trade partners. He grasped the marked hilt of his scimitar, his thoughts wondering to their newest problem. It seemed, from his crewmembers who had come back, that they weren't just refusing, they were refusing with force. The King of the Pirates sneered, his good eye tracking up from the pale, fluttering pulse at the girl's neck to stare hard at the cargo room wall.

That was fine. There were always plenty of others clamoring for his merchandise. And besides.

He turned to leave.

There was always that message from Majora's Keep. A handsome reward for two escaped slaves from the infamous Sons of Majora. RedEye allowed a slight smile to darken his features as he left the room, his mood considerably lightened.

There was always good work for a pirate.

The gentle slosh of small waves against the boat was the only sound since the pirate ship's hailing of their presence. Sheik sighed silently, tugging the hood of his borrowed cloak more securely over his head in an effort to beat back the sharp scent of the saltwater.

It had almost left him sick, upon reaching the water, when he'd gotten his first full whiff of the ocean. There was no chance to pause on the thought as he'd immediately crashed into the battle he'd been searching for, on the outskirts of the fishing village of T'lar. Pirates.

And not just any pirates. Hylian ones.

He raised his eyes, letting his keen vision sweep over the darkening horizon to take in the scrambling on deck. Two long figures at the forward deck caught his eye, and he paused in thought. From this far away, none of the fisherman accompanying him on the small boat could see the forms. The Sheikah squinted, taking in the taller figure. As the neared, he began to make out the features of the men who watched him. He froze, feeling something odd trickle down his spine as the one eyed man seemed to lock eyes with him. It was impossible he could have been recognized as anything more than a dark shape from this distance, however, and the roving, bright colored eye moved on. At last, the two figures left the deck, and a keel boat was launched to meet them.

Upon arriving at the village and seeing the pirates fighting against the fisherman, Sheik had intervened, helping drive them, cursing, back into their keel boat. Unable to understand or be understood, however, he had waited until his companions joined him, at which time S'Lora made a greeting.

Sheik shifted his cloak more tightly around him, as the wind picked up and lifted sea spray over the boat side. He could have left the villager's to their problems. Sheik was sure that, despite the language barrier, they could have found the route to K'Gar from the village and been on their way by the next morning. However.

A cry went up, from the sailor in the forward of their small vessel, as the keel boat from the ship was spotted.

Something strange was calling to him, a whisper he had not heard before. Not in this life, anyway. There was something aboard this ship, something lifting the nape hairs on his neck. Whether it was the captain or some other source, he'd soon discover.