Chapter 63: A Gathering Storm
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"So," Impa said, clearing her throat. "This may be an excellent opportunity for me to offer instruction in treating wounds. The Spring of Courage is located in Faron, and that can be a dangerous region -"
"I'm not planning to get hit again," Link grumbled.
Impa shot him a flat look. "Of course not. But it's still a possibility. You weren't planning to get hit today, were you? And yet it happened."
Link bit back a snappy retort and squeezed more water from his hair with his right hand, shivering. The heavy clouds stifling the valley had broken just as they reached the outskirts of Kakariko Village. It was a miserable, sopping-wet group that now sat on the ground floor in the gloomy candlelight of Imraz's manor, a growing puddle around them.
"I… I could always use more guidance in this field," Zelda offered quietly. "Just in case."
Impa nodded at her approvingly. "Perfect. Well, then, let's see what we're dealing with…" She shifted closer, beckoning to Zelda and leaning in. Link drew in a breath and held it, feeling his cheeks heating up self-consciously; he felt as if he were some sort of fascinating animal on display, the way the two women scrutinized him.
I get why she's doing this, and it doesn't seem like too horrible a wound so taking time here won't kill me, but even so… He exhaled heavily. I'm bleeding and in pain and I just want to lie down and sleep for as long as I can.
Impa withdrew a small pair of scissors from a pouch on her belt and began carefully slicing away the crimson-stained patches of his doublet and undershirt around the arrow; despite the care she took in avoiding it Link felt her inadvertently jostle the arrow, sending shockwaves of cold pain down Link's arm and he slammed his eyes shut, his breath catching.
"Can't just pull the arrow right out from the get-go," she explained as she worked, and Zelda nodded. "Because how you pull it out depends on what the arrow did, and this one pierced all the way through the shoulder…"
Link's eyes flew wide. What? He glanced at his shoulder and winced. His mind replayed, as if in slow motion, his memory of taking the hit - they Yiga crouched among the trees, firing at an upwards angle, at such close range; the arrow struck, right beneath his collarbone, and unhindered by bone but slowed by his flesh, it continued along its initial trajectory to break through on the other side of his collarbone. Only its tip must have gotten through cloth, he realized, but now with the cloth cut away he could see, craning his neck, that nearly all of the broadhead had gotten through his shoulder.
"Generally," Impa continued, frowning at the arrowhead, "if an arrow comes all the way through, we can just pull it out from the end it came out on. If not, and it's a bodkin arrowhead, we can pull it out regardless. But those Yiga were using broadheads… Is this making sense to you, Princess, or do I need to explain?"
She shook her head. "I've done a bit of archery before," she explained. "My… my mother taught me. Broadheads are what we used for hunting, but I'm not familiar with…"
Impa nodded curtly. "Bodkins are longer, slender arrowheads, better for getting through armor. But as these assassins weren't expecting armor, they used broadheads instead. The issue is that these particular broadheads were barbed, and in this case the barbs didn't come all the way through. Must've nicked your collarbone, Link, or your shoulder blade - or both, come to think of it. Things that reduce its velocity. So, in this case, we'll have to push it the rest of the way through, and then pull it all out."
Link winced, imagining it. He met Zelda's worried gaze and inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself, bracing for the pain -
But instead Impa kept on with her lesson. "If it hadn't come through this end at all, we would need two feathers," she explained. "They're hollow down the middle, so the idea is they would slide down onto the two barbs and -"
"Impa," Link interrupted wearily. "Please - can we get this over with?"
She didn't respond right away, bearing striking resemblance to a hawk that had found its prey with her eyes zeroed in on the arrow. "Of - of course," she said quietly, but she still didn't move, staring fixedly at the arrow. "It'll… it'll be painful, you understand."
"I don't exactly have a choice," he reminded her, trying to hold back his growing irritation. For Din's sake, stop dragging it on!
And then she lifted her eyes to look directly at him, and he saw guilt in her eyes, guilt and deep regret, almost sorrow. "It seems… you're not the only one who struggles to risk hurting a friend," she murmured.
Link raised an eyebrow. "I can think of a multitude of bruises that would argue that point."
"Those were accidents," Impa countered. "This… Goddesses…" She shook her head. "You should've let me take that hit. It couldn't have possibly killed me -"
"I wasn't willing to take that risk," Link protested firmly. "It was my choice, and you - neither of you should feel guilty about that." His shoulder twinged, as if reacting to his building frustration, and he forced back a pained groan. "Look, I can't reach that arrow on my own, so would one of you please -"
A scream cut him off - a scream that he didn't immediately recognize as his own. One moment his senses, and his mind, were relatively clear, muddled a bit by the burn and overall discomfort of having something embedded in his chest. And the next moment the pain flared a hundred times hotter with an agonizing tugging sensation and he curled inwards around himself, clutching at his shoulder as warm fresh blood dribbled past his fingers, as his mind went suddenly blank and black and his vision swirled.
"I apologize," Impa winced, tossing away the bloodied arrow, its white fletchings now crimson. "I… you're right. I was stalling, and I… I shouldn't have. Zelda, if you would, start helping him out of those clothes while I nip upstairs - Imraz almost always has a pot on the fire with water for her tea. She'll understand - she likely won't even notice - if we use it for cleaning." And she pushed herself to her feet, leaving the puddle on the floor behind and jogging upstairs.
Link felt Zelda's hands at his back, on the hem of his doublet; grinding his teeth against the fires burning anew in his shoulder, he took in a sharp breath and held it for a beat before letting go and breathing in again, trying to calm his pounding heart. She got it off without too much trouble and moved on to his undershirt.
He heard her breath catch as she began to lift it, felt the ghost of a touch on his skin. He glanced at her over his uninjured shoulder through heavily lidded eyes and noticed her gaze rooted to his back, an expression of guilt and deep sorrow softening her features.
She noticed his eyes upon her and sighed, pushing his shirt further up and wincing. Link tried to tuck his head down obligingly as she pulled it over his face and, and he released his shoulder as she slid the shirt down his arms. With his left arm incapable of much movement and his right attempting to stem the flow of blood, there wasn't much he could do to help her; the arrow had acted as a sort of plug in his flesh, and now he knew that he was losing blood quite a bit faster.
"It's… it's moments like these where I can't help but wonder… what you'll look like after… after another year of… all of this." Her voice hitched; he felt again the light touch of her fingers over his scarred back, tracing lines of knitted-together skin. "It's… only getting worse."
Link sighed heavily, shivering, taking his rain-dampened undershirt and wadding it up, holding it firmly against his shoulder. "It'll keep getting worse until Ganon's defeated, and his influence eradicated," he muttered, his words slurring together. The Yiga woman's words rang in his mind, and somehow sitting half-naked in the middle of a wide, empty room, wet and cold and bleeding, her words hit stronger.
He heard a slight shuffling and felt Zelda's arm drape gently across his shoulder blades as she pressed herself lightly against his left arm, and her other hand found his left and gave it a squeeze; he raised his head and noticed her gaze fixed on their joint hands.
"It's… it's awful," she murmured, her thumb absently brushing over his knuckles as her brow creased. "Maybe I can determine when you're in trouble, and what kind, and where… but if I can't actually protect you… keep you from getting hurt, over and over…" Her voice wavered, and Link let go of his shoulder for a moment to lightly wipe away a tear on her cheek, forgetting for a moment that his fingers were stained red with his own blood.
"The mist was thicker in the woods," he told her quietly. "Back by the pool, against the ridge, we didn't have a chance of knowing where those two archers would attack from. They would've picked us off, one by one, and even when they fired the first shot we'd have no idea where they'd next attack." He felt a chill creep down his spine, feeling acutely aware of his mortality. Even with Zelda's guidance, he'd been lucky that the arrow missed his heart. A couple inches further down and it would've struck his heart, he was sure. He closed his eyes tiredly… the fear, the rush of adrenaline during the battle and the fatigue after it faded… he felt utterly drained.
Zelda picked up his rolled-up shirt and pressed it once more to his shoulder, biting her lip at his pained grunt. "I still… I still wish I could protect you."
He rested his good hand on hers over his left hand and stared deep into her emerald eyes. "I realize I can't stop you from worrying," he acknowledged softly. Because it's the same worry I feel for you, all the time. "But I couldn't stand to see anything happen to you. So any blood spilled, any pain I have to bear in order to keep you safe… it's worth it."
"Link, I can't stand to see anything happen to you, either," Zelda protested, stricken. "And yet I - I have to, over and over again, and I'm just - I'm tired of not being able to do anything! And I realize that I simply don't have the skills to be of any use on the battlefield, nor do I have the time - the years - to train and reach your level of proficiency to become capable of physically deflecting the blades raised against you, but I…" She lowered her gaze, her shoulders sagging. "I wish I did. And I sometimes wish you weren't so Din-cursedly good at your job, because then I'd actually have the opportunity to take the blows for you."
Link tensed at the thought. "If you take a hit, you'll die," he said, unable to keep his voice from shaking. "But I… I can take a few hits and survive. This way, we both get to live. Isn't that… isn't that better?"
Zelda scrunched her lips to one side, her brow heavily furrowed. "Of course," she admitted after a beat. "But it doesn't change the fact that I so often have to see you in pain." She grimaced, shaking her head, and Link felt her hand tightening around his. "Din curse it - I brought my bow along for just this sort of thing, and of course I had to leave it behind! If only I'd thought - especially with that attack the other night on the road…"
Link felt his heart spasm at the memory. At the assassin so bent on killing his Princess that they left themselves open to be killed. "No," he whispered. "No, if you'd fought back, if you left yourself open for even a second, they would've killed you."
Zelda scoffed at that. "With you charging down towards them? I highly doubt it. That would be suicide."
Link nodded, nausea curling in his stomach at the thought. That's the point. That's exactly the point. Their own lives mean nothing to them if they have a chance to see you dead.
He had to tell her, now. For her own safety. She had to know how desperate they were getting. But as he was chewing on the right words to explain, Impa came back down the staircase, carefully holding a large black pot in her hands.
"I added a bit of salt," she called down to them. "Helps draw out anything that could get it infected. Hot water on its own is good in a pinch, of course, but the salt's better."
Link winced, anticipating the sting. He glanced down at his shoulder, at Zelda's hand now stained with his blood, holding his shirt firmly against the wound. Meeting her eyes, he moved his good hand over hers and offered a small nod, glancing in Impa's direction. Zelda nodded back, letting him take the shirt as she pushed to her feet and hurried over to Impa, twisting her hands together.
"We'll need clean cloths, then, right?" she asked. "If the whole point is to clean the wound…"
Impa nodded approvingly. "Correct. That table by the door - there should be a drawer with a few clean rags; would you bring them here?"
Zelda nodded quickly, hurrying back to the door. Impa carefully set down the pot full of steaming water at Link's side before sitting down and taking his rolled-up, blood-soaked shirt from his shoulder. She winced, looking at it. "I should've gotten the rags out first," she muttered, glaring. "This is filthy, boy! What were you thinking?"
Link regarded her flatly. "I was thinking I needed to stop the bleeding," he answered curtly. "I didn't exactly have many options."
Impa sighed heavily, dipping her head in reluctant acknowledgement. "Yes, yes… of course. Again, I… apologize. This is all… this is not how I hoped today would go."
Zelda returned with a pile of white cloths bundled in her arms and carefully set them down next to the pot. Impa took one and dipped it in the steaming water before lifting it to Link's shoulder, carefully wiping away the blood around the wound. The water burned initially but quickly cooled, pleasantly warm against his rain-chilled skin.
"There's not much to say from here," Impa murmured, inspecting the wound with narrowed eyes as she cleared away the last of the blood and took a fresh cloth. She applied greater pressure this time, dabbing at the open flesh instead of the skin around it, and Link closed his eyes quickly, clinging to a breath as the stinging set in - minor at first, like the sting of a pinprick, but swiftly gaining a heat and intensity that made him grind his teeth.
"I'll finish cleaning, then stitch it up," Impa went on, glancing briefly at Zelda sitting down on Link's other side. "Notice that there's a needle in the water; putting it in there when the water's boiling sterilizes it, keeps it from introducing anything that could cause infection. From there we wrap it up in bandages, which will need to be changed every so often. When you get back on the road I'd highly recommend cleaning it out again after each day of travel - there's too high a chance of the wound worsening without proper care in the open wilds."
Link nodded absently, not really paying attention, focusing on his breathing as the sting in his shoulder deepened - it was almost as if a thin knife was slowly poking through the wound following the arrow's path, razor edges carving a trail of searing pain. He felt slender fingers curling around his fisted right hand and dragged his heavy eyes open, blearily raising his gaze to Zelda's face as she anxiously watched Impa moving on to the arrow's exit point.
"So," Impa said. Her voice was extraordinarily calm, to the extent that it seemed forced, and Link didn't blame her. "I believe now is as good a time as any for me to get some answers, and talking will also help you take your mind off of what I'm doing over here. Start from the beginning, and leave nothing out - I'll know if you try."
Link swallowed thickly at the underlying threat darkening her tone. He met Zelda's eyes, asking a silent question; she glanced away for a moment, and then gave the tiniest of nods. He let out a deep breath and began the tale, starting with when he noticed the assassins hiding in the mist and what he overheard from them. He tried to keep his voice steady, but especially when Impa began stitching the tender skin around the wound together he found it more difficult to stop his breath from hitching, his voice from wavering. For her part, Impa never interrupted, working quietly on his shoulder with her usual level of fierce focus, almost as if she wasn't listening at all, but Link knew she was paying rapt attention to his words.
And when he finished, Impa was wrapping bandages around his shoulder, her eyes slits as she worked over his words in her mind. He watched her nervously, awaiting condemnation, drawing comfort from Zelda's hand on his.
"Incredible," Impa murmured after a long silence, tying the bandage in place and lowering her hands. "To see this… bond of yours… in action." She turned her gaze on Zelda, her voice stern. "But you're leaving tomorrow. This was to be our last time to train, and if I'd known about these other powers before yesterday, I fear we could have made much better use of our time."
Zelda ducked her head, her cheeks coloring. "I… I realize that," she murmured. "I'm… sorry."
"No matter," Impa continued crisply. She opened her mouth but then closed it, as if she'd had something to say and then thought better of it. Frowning, she tilted her head, contemplating. "Perhaps it was wisdom in you. Too many eager ears often lead to loose lips and spilled secrets. If the Yiga Clan knew about this…" She shuddered. "Well, they likely would have rethought their strategy today. And as for the pair of you… truly, it is by divine design that you've come together. You make a formidable team - although, of course, I still would have preferred that you gave me the information needed to take out those archers."
"Their attention was on you at that point," Link protested. "They thought you were the greatest threat and wanted to keep you busy so that their companions could focus on the two of us without your interference. They didn't expect an attack to come from me first."
"It was reckless of you," Impa shot back. "And your lives are worth far more to this kingdom than mine - you do realize that if you get killed making brash decisions you'll doom us all?"
Link scowled, ire bubbling up once more in his stomach. She was right - there was no one else to bear the Master Sword. And certainly at times he hated that it was true.
Impa's gaze burned into him a moment longer, and then she broke contact and looked away, glancing absently up the staircase. "But… your strategy was sound," she grumbled. "I… probably would have done the same thing, had our roles been switched." She shook her head. "There's something else you're not telling me, however. You were terrified, Link - I could almost smell the fear. But I can't for the life of me think of what had such a strong impact on you. It was, by all rights, a simple battle once you knew where you needed to go. No Yiga lackey is a match for your skill. An archer got lucky, so here we are, but that doesn't explain why you felt so strongly."
Link sighed, glancing at Zelda out of the corner of his eye. This is exactly what I've been dreading to say. I'd hoped I could have spoken to Impa alone, but… here we are.
He remembered his earlier thoughts, when Impa left to fetch the water, and felt his hesitance weaken. She needs to know.
Drawing in a long breath, he steeled his nerves and met Impa's gaze. "An assassin found us when we stopped for the night, the day before we arrived," he explained quietly. "I confronted him. There was… a moment… where he had an opening, but instead of using it against me he went straight for Zelda's tent, giving me the chance I needed to kill him. He… he had to have known that leaving himself open like that would end in his death."
Impa nodded, her brow furrowing. "I… see," she said slowly, her burning eyes narrowing as she turned her head to regard the Princess. "There are two possibilities. Either could exist separately, or synchronously. The Yiga may somehow know that you're coming into your powers, and they want to eliminate you before you become a greater threat. Or they know that the Calamity's return is imminent, and they want to ensure you don't have the chance to pose a threat." Her gaze turned to Link, seeming to scour his very soul, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Both of these possibilities would require the Yiga to have some sort of connection to the Calamity, and to its knowledge." Once more her eyes slid in Zelda's direction. "And I do not doubt that the Calamity is aware of your growing abilities. It helps its cause by informing its most dedicated followers of such developments."
She rose to her feet, her arms crossed, and strode slowly to one of the front windows, spattered and streaked with the falling rain, to regard the dark clouds beyond. "Surely you saw the storm that preceded your arrival," she whispered. "A storm that helped an assassin in his pursuit. And now this second storm, and the mist - again, it concealed the Yiga, which certainly could have proved fatal for us."
Link stared after her, feeling a deep chill sinking into his bones. Silhouetted by the window he could not see her expression, but the acid in her voice spoke of the hatred, and the fear of cornered prey, in her soul. "Ganon's influence is spreading," she hissed. "First the more basic of its followers, demons that plague our world, crawling out from their dark holes into the light of day. And then the Yiga, growing bolder, better informed… Now, it seems, the Calamity is gaining power over the very atmosphere of our world, spreading darkness where there should be light. And so its power grows…"
Zelda's grip on his hand was tight, almost painfully so. Link met her gaze, saw his own fear and uncertainty reflected there. "Merciful Goddesses," she murmured, shivering. Slowly she shook her head in despair, her eyes dropping. "Do we… do we have hope, then? If the Calamity has such powerful forces under its control…"
Link wrapped his good arm around her comfortingly, holding her close and searching for the right words, but it was Impa who spoke.
"The Goddesses do not stand for blatant shows of power," she scowled, turning from the window. "That is not their way. Instead they work through humbler means - things that may seem small, or insignificant, in the face of Ganon's boasting." Her expression softened, and her gaze landed on the two youths huddled together in a slowly-drying puddle on the floor, battered in both body and spirit, looking to each other for comfort. "And they remind us all that the force often most powerful of all, strong enough to change hearts, and give dying men the resolve to stand and fight again, is not a measure of the size and strength of armies, nor does it manifest with the crash of thunder or the screams of perishing foes."
She fell silent, a gentle smile slowly turning the corners of her lips upwards as she crossed the room towards them, reaching out to help them to their feet. "You'd better return to the inn and find some clothes before you catch cold," she advised. "I doubt we'll be able to get all of the stains out, but I'll have your doublet and undershirt cleaned and repaired, and sent to the inn this evening. And I'll set an extra guard over the inn as well - Goddesses know you both deserve a decent night's rest before you set back out again."
Link nodded gratefully, taking Impa's hand.
They hurried back to the inn and remained there the rest of the day, sharing a meal in Zelda's room before parting for the night. Of the Yiga there was no further sign, and with the extra guards as Impa promised Link felt no guilt in catching a few extra hours of sleep, leaning against Zelda's door.
And as he closed his eyes he felt again a thought that wasn't his, a different thought from the one that alerted him to the last archer. You're safe.
