The dragon blood trees that were scattered about Hyrule Ridge made for great scenery, but Pikango found capturing their majesty in his artwork quite difficult. He would love to spend a day posted on one of their flat tops, painting the forest while perched on one of its trees. Alas, Pikango was no climber, and he would have to use the perspective he had sitting by the Tabantha Bridge Stable. Perhaps tomorrow he would venture out and get the high ground he so desired. For now, he would work on painting the shrine that overlooked the stable. If he waited for sundown, the colors of the shrine would blend beautifully with those in the sky.
Thus Pikango spent his afternoon foraging for the electric safflina and wildberries that, crushed and mixed with care, would give him the orange hue he needed. Well, the orange hue he would have needed had the shrine not turned blue upon his return to the stable. Pikango would have been more frustrated with his wasted day had he not been fascinated by the shrine and the Hylian he now saw paragliding down from it.
"Did you do that to the shrine?" he called out not a second after the boy landed.
All Pikango got back was a polite nod and an affirmative grunt.
"You went into the ancient structure, no? You must tell me what you saw inside!" he pleaded.
That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as the boy clammed up and looked uneasy. Pikango's passion had once again gotten ahead of him. He would just have to try again, a little slower and friendlier this time.
"Where are my manners? My name's Pikango, and I'm a wandering Sheikah artist. I've been nearly everywhere you can go in Hyrule, and inside those shrines are the only places I've never seen! You look like a traveller too—If you just tell me a little about what they're like, I'll be happy to let you pick my brain about the sights of Hyrule."
Thank goodness that did the trick. The boy, who introduced himself as Link (an oddly familiar name, Pikango thought), revealed some details about the innards of the ancient shrines, and even showed the Sheikah painter a couple pictures he had taken with that slate on his hip. In exchange, Link pulled up other photographs for Pikango to assess. Despite his weathered appearance and the nifty gadget at his waist, Link didn't seem to be overly familiar with the land he walked on.
"You have quite the collection here," Pikango observed. "These locations are scattered all across Hyrule. But this one," he said, gesturing to an image of stone columns on grass, "is closest to where we are now."
As soon as Pikango handed the slate back, Link readied his pack and looked toward the hills past the stable.
"The Ancient Columns are on top of the hill just past the canyon," said Pikango. "But it's already so late in the day. You might want to wait for the morning or you'll be searching with only the light of the moon."
Pikango's warning didn't faze the Hylian, who appeared set on making it to the columns that same night. He hoped that this Link fellow knew what he was doing. He didn't want to think about what would happen if the scrawny kid was caught out alone at night, or worse, alone during a blood moon. There had been a few since the towers sprung up. Surely, Pikango thought, tonight would not bring foul dust and red skies.
…
For many weeks Salak had deplored his station at the Tabantha Bridge Stable. To the east sat murky, monster-ridden wetlands of Hyrule Ridge. To the west was an impossibly large and barren canyon separating the stable from the rest of Tabantha. In other words, there was nothing for Salak to do except spend his days watching over Hyrule's most boring stable. The place that most travelers used only as a pitstop had become Salak's residence for the foreseeable future. It was true, he conceded, that Tabantha Bridge had great proximity to both Rito Village and the Gerudo region at large. But Salak was a young, skilled fighter, but he had never seen battle, and he couldn't help but feel that his talents were being wasted. It was a shame that he didn't get to make the decisions.
Such was the life of a Yiga footsoldier.
His orders were direct and forceful: remain disguised at Tabantha Bridge and report any information deemed useful back to base. Those nighttime trips to the Gerudo Highlands were the only time Salak put his stealth and teleportation training to practice. Unfortunately, those missions were over by the morning. By sunrise, Salak was back in his straw bed at the stable.
It was the unexpected twists and close calls that made Salak's job bearable. Sometimes his disguise would fail and his ears took on a pointed shape rather than the typical Hylian curve. Other times the stablehands would ask one too many personal questions and Salak would be forced to lie about his story. It was definitely rare for someone to spend this much time at one stable. But Salak was crafty, and he had all of the staff and travelers convinced that he was a simple Hylian named Toren trying to locate the Great Fairy in the area.
When the Sheikah painter arrived, Salak worried that his cover would be blown. Scrutiny from Hylians was easy to dodge, but the Sheikah were sharper and more likely to recognize a Yiga hiding within their midst. Luckily, Pikango was too focused on his artwork to notice the defector that was Salak. The problem that the painter posed could safely be dismissed as long as Salak kept his caution up. This security didn't last long, however. Soon enough, Salak was faced with what was possibly the greatest threat to himself and his clan.
The threat's name was Link.
Salak felt his body tense and his pulse quiver when that boy first walked in the stable. Every Yiga member knew what that blue tunic meant. The boy was unmistakably the Hylian Champion, and just like that, his one quiet outpost in Hyrule Ridge now held the number one item of the Yiga's most wanted. Salak knew he had to report this sighting back to the Yiga base, but that was a task easier said than done with the Hero nearby. Salak was starting to feel the pressure, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep his disguise up before cracks started to show and that dreadful boy took notice. He had to calm down. He had to think.
As a young child in the Yiga Clan, Salak was taught that with every obstacle came an opportunity of equal caliber. This philosophy animated the Yiga's very founding—when the royal family of Hyrule first forbade the Sheikah from further developing their technology, the ensuing controversy was enough to spark the splinter group that evolved into the Yiga. When the initial outbreak of the Calamity was halted by the cursed princess, the clan seized their chance to spread across the tattered remnants of Hyrule and grow their influence to its present state. Transforming adversity into opportunity had always been necessary for the Yiga to survive. Salak was not about to break that tradition now.
Salak pushed against his defensive instincts and positioned himself on the attack. The Sheikah painter he once worried over had quite loudly pointed Link in the direction of the Ancient Columns and it was evident that the Hero wouldn't wait for morning to start his trek. All Salak had to do was bide his time, leaving the stable in the dead of night. He might not be able to beat Link to the columns, but some clever teleportation would allow him to get there in time to set up an ambush.
Salak knew that a head on battle with the Hylian Champion would be incredibly dangerous—he would have to fight unexpectedly and surprise Link with guerilla tactics with which the boy would be unfamiliar. Any damage he got with his sickle and duplex bow would earn Salak praise within the clan, and maybe, hopefully, get him some action in the field beyond recon at some desolate stable. Salak grinned under his mask while scaling the hill on which the Ancient Columns lay. It looked like he would have another advantage over the champion. The sky was getting pretty red.
Salak's first glimpse of Link was at the columns themselves. He dropped to the ground, hidden in the grass, as his target fought a jet black moblin who had taken up residence by the shrine. On any other night it would have been an effortless fight, but the blood moon had tilted the odds harshly. Salak was sure that Link would prevail, but he would be battered and tired. It would be the perfect time to strike. Sala smirked to himself. The Yiga were always adept at combat as a third party.
When the Moblin finally collapsed, Salak spared no time before making his move. He fired off two arrows from his duplex bow and celebrated internally when one sank into Link's lower back. The boy turned to find his assailant, but Salak had already clasped his hands together and disappeared in a puff of red smoke. Salak popped back into existence and pulled back his bowstring for a second time, this attempt aiming at the boy's head. But Link had adapted frighteningly fast—the champion crouched to the ground and the arrows flew harmlessly over his frame. Salak was certainly grateful for the blood moon; it's power was the cause for Link's weakened state. However, the smoke and ashes that filled the air made aiming his next shots impossible. The smog around the columns was getting too thick to see through. Soon enough, Salak would have to engage Link at close range. That was not ideal.
Salak once again clapped and used some teleportation to reposition. He hoped that the disorienting sounds and smog would leave Link uninformed about his opponent. Salak's wishes did not come true. Link anticipated the first swipe, and it took all of Salak's strength to keep a hold of his sickle after the boy's parry. Every successive jab from Salak was countered or dodged by Link, and the Yiga clansmen was amassing more injuries as the fight dragged on. In mere moments, Salak was littered with cuts, had a cracked rib, and sported what was likely a black eye. Link, apart from some signs of fatigue, appeared fine. The fight was one-sided, and Salak knew it. His only hope now was one decisive blow to the Hylian.
Salak summoned the last of his energy to teleport behind and above his adversary. But this move, like all of Salak's others, was expected. Salak's sickle caught the flesh of Link's sword arm and for a moment he rejoiced at his first hit since his opening volley of arrows. But his success was fleeting. The last thing Salak remembered was a metal shield heading straight for his face.
…
As Salak drifted back into consciousness, he felt the sun heat his face and a low buzzing on either side of his head.
"No quick movements," barked a voice from above.
Salak shifted his body in surprise and a sharp jolt of electricity coursed through his body. He would have hissed in pain had his throat not been so dry. Salak took a moment to assess his situation and quickly realized that he was pinned to a tree with shock arrows. The pounding in his head suggested a concussion, and despite the bandages on his wounds, Salak knew that he had lost a lot of blood.
"Drink," said the voice.
Salak felt a glass bottle against his lips. Was he being drugged? Poisoned? Having no other choice but to comply, Salak swallowed the mystery liquid and the pain wracking his body started to subside. Whatever that elixir was, it didn't seem to be harmful. But while the pain faded, it was replaced by total numbness. He was paralyzed. Although his vision was still blurry, he recognized that the figure above him was none other than Link himself, and Salak tried to stop the panic from bubbling inside of him. The boy didn't have any of the wounds that Salak knew were on him last night. Even the strongest of healing elixirs couldn't deliver those results. The boy removed the shock arrows from the tree, but Salak's muscles wouldn't budge. That concoction must have been potent.
"Healing elixir, with some electric darners mixed in," Link appeared to read his mind. "You'll be numb for a while, but you'll be fine."
That was… odd. Salak didn't expect mercy, if this humiliation could be described as such.
"You were at the stable," Link said matter-of-factly.
It was at that moment when Salak realized his mask was on the ground beside him, shattered. Finally, he found his voice.
"And what of it, Hero?" he sneered back.
Link turned around instead of responding and started toward the shrine at the end of the columns, swinging his head around as though he was looking for something. Suddenly, the Hylian stopped moving altogether, and stood perfectly still for what seemed like minutes. Link eventually turned back again and stepped toward the tree again. He wore a strange, confused expression.
"You are a good fighter... lots of heart. So why do you do it for them?" he asked, lightly kicking the Yiga mask in the dirt.
How callous! Of course the goddess-chosen, royally-appointed knight wouldn't understand what drives the Yiga! Salak was incensed and got ready to raise his voice at the boy. He wanted to tell him that one doesn't simply leave the Yiga, that every day was a fight for survival, how dare he defile a Yiga's mask… But before any words could come out, Link's form dissolved into bright blue strings that shot into the sky.
Link was gone, the sun burned hot, and Salak felt numb.