The Lost Hero

by writingrampant

Hyrule and Ordon must unite against the encroaching shadow. Link has been prepared for this battle since childhood, the Champion of Ordona and Master of the Sword. Reluctantly allying with the Queen of Hyrule, they prepare to confront the encroaching Shadow. Betrayal, mortal and divine, threatens to tip the balance. Ganon rises and the world has lost its Hero. (Formatting fixed)

6. The Warrior Queen

Chapter Six: The Warrior Queen

She woke in her room in Ordon.

She stared at the beamed ceiling, the wood dark with age. This was impossible. She sat up and her head swirled.

It had to be a trick. The scent of beeswax and clean linen, the quiet hum of the city, the sunlight streaming from the window.

She started as the door opened. Firn came in, carrying a tray. The woman smiled.

"You are awake!"

Zelda scrambled back. "Get away from me."

Firn placed her load on a small table. "Your Majesty-"

"Where am I? What is this?"

"You are safe."

She wanted to believe the old woman. Zelda cringed back, cornered like an animal as Firn approached.

"You are safe," she murmured. She grasped Zelda's outstretched hand, held it gently. "I will not hurt you."

The woman's power was weak but steadfast. She gave willingly what she had. It could not fill the void, but it soothed the pain.

Zelda sobbed into Firn's chest.

"He's gone. He's gone and I couldn't save him!"

Firn stroked her head. "It is not your fault."

"I am weak, useless. He was right, I am nothing."

Firn shook her. "You are a queen."

"He's gone and I am alone!" All her fears came tumbling out, the guilt eating her. "His death is on my head. I hid it from him and he was not strong enough. I did this."

"No, my dear. Ganon did this."

She thought she could never stop. Even when her voice was gone and her eyes swollen and dry, she mourned.

Firn sat by her through the soft afternoon. Face to the window, her age weakened eyes were steady and bright.

"There is always hope," she said. "Even if you must make it for yourself."

She couldn't cry forever, even if she wanted to. She lay on the bed, weak and exhausted. She wanted to close her eyes, stay hidden in this little room. Could she will herself into nothingness?

His voice, his lips, speaking her greatest fears. You are weak. Pathetic. Nothing.

She sat up. "Does Ordon know?"

"Yes."

How could she face the man? His son was worse than dead. It would have been easier to present the king with the prince's lifeless body.

She stood up. "How did I get here?"

"A man named Karn and others. They brought you from the Druynia. Followed your trail when you and Link did not arrive to meet them."

"Are they still here?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Zelda clenched her fists and went to the dressing screen. The copper tub sat empty. She swallowed, then yanked her nightshirt over her head.

Ordon's grief had aged him. She went to him, hesitant. He embraced her.

"I am so sorry," she whispered.

"It is not your fault," he told her roughly.

"I couldn't save him."

He gripped her arms and spoke sternly. "It is not your fault."

She nodded, unable to speak the lie, that she believed him.

The nation mourned. Sorrow and fear met her at every turn. The central plaza of the city now held a pyre, nestled at Ordona's feet.

No body lay there, but offerings. Blue ribbons, flowers, trinkets.

"When will you light it?" Zelda asked the king.

"At the next new moon."

The waning sliver in the western sky leered at her. Her breath stopped, panicked.

"Don't."

Ordon looked at her. "'Don't?'"

"He's not dead."

Ordon spoke gently. "He fought valiantly, Zelda, and had done so for many years. It is no dishonor to mourn-"

"He's not dead." She clenched her fists to stop them from dashing the offerings to the ground. "He's still fighting. He still mans the Watch."

Ordon shook his head. "We will resist as long as we can. Maybe Ordona will bless us with a new Hero-"

"No!" They were attracting stares. "Link is the Hero!"

"Link is gone."

Something sharp and fiery bubbled up in her, rising from the gash in her soul. "I will find him."

"Zelda-"

"I will find him and bring him home. I will not abandon him, like so many others."

Ordon watched her with wide eyes. She straightened, still wounded, but needing to fight.

"I will save him."

Her determination reflected in Ordon's eyes. "And if he can't be saved?"

Zelda ached with sorrow but spoke the vow all the same. "Then I will destroy him."

Cantor could not stand. Zelda knelt by his chair and gripped the thin hand he held out to her.

"My poor boy," he mourned. "What has that monster done to him?"

She kissed his hand gently. "I will save him."

"But how?" He listened, filmy eyes roving over the room. "Ordona does not guide me in this."

"I will find a way," Zelda promised.

Cantor blinked away tears. "I fear he is lost to us."

Zelda embraced him. "He loves you, Cantor. You made him strong. He will fight."

The temple was empty. The long days afield sent the citizens to their beds early. The temple attendants had shuttered the lamps, leaving only two glowing by the main altar.

Zelda went to it and stood looking up at the Goddess.

The hush fell to silence.

She turned, hair rising as she recognized this place. Was the Shadow so strong as to enter even this sanctuary? In Hyrule, she had assumed Link had drawn him, given him entry. I'm already in you, he'd said. I always have been.

"It was a risk."

Zelda jerked around. A man stood in the doorway. A warrior, helmed and armored. Behind him, the moonlight cast white beams across the city.

She straightened. "You knew?"

"That he would fall to the Darkness? No."

Her fury gave her courage. "He is not weak!"

"But not strong enough." It turned away. Maybe a shade of grief in the toneless voice, "Sometimes, they are not strong enough."

"Wait!" He was ether under her hand. But he stopped and turned to look down at her. "What can I do?"

"For him? Nothing."

"I will not accept that!" she raged. "I will not let the Enemy take him from me!"

"He is the Enemy."

"No! We must-"

"You do not understand. He is the Enemy."

Her heart would not let her believe it. "He is the Hero."

The shade's shoulders drooped. "I had hoped he would be."

Zelda listened, still disbelieving, as he spoke.

"The battle we fight is ancient and endless. This land, changed so much over the centuries, has seen war after war. My queen…" His voice softened, almost alive again. "My queen ruled from the Silver Throne in the Castle by the Sea. With Wisdom and Power in her grasp, the land prospered. I served her faithfully, with Courage. When Ganon came, seeking the Triforce, the destruction…Even without his Power, his might was unfathomable. We defeated him, but at terrible cost."

Zelda looked out over that glistening sea, saw the Light shining from the spire, a beacon. It flared, radiant, then faded.

"Countless times, the Hero and the Enemy have met. Many times, the Light prevails. This time, we have lost."

Zelda sank to her knees, tears dripping to her palms. Useless hands, that could not heal nor defend him.

"Why was he chosen?" she asked. "If you knew-?"

The Ancient Hero turned away from the darkened tower.

"Your Link was-"

"He was a choice."

Zelda turned. Ordona stood by Her altar, Her beautiful face set with grief. "A choice We made."

Zelda stood. "Why?"

"When the Enemy grows strong, a Hero rises. This time…this time Ganon controlled the prophecy."

"How?"

Ordona's eyes were clear blue, like Link's. But endless and unfathomable. "Because he has Power."

Zelda could not understand. "But Link was the Hero. He has Courage. He could stand against him."

"No."

Zelda clenched her fists, realizing the truth. "You sent him to fight Ganon with nothing?"

Ordona looked past her. The tower was gone. A stone citadel stood in its place, the sea now a jungle.

"The prophecy is never the same twice. As infinite as the stars, the Triforce chooses its Champions. This time, there was a complication."

The citadel burned. A battle raged in the plain below.

"The child was taken, lost to his people. A little prince, drowned in slavery."

Zelda was sick with shame. Slavery in her land, sold like an animal for labor. Beaten, starved, abused in ways she would never know. Fertile ground for Ganon.

"No, dear one."

Did you think centuries of waiting, of planning, could be thwarted in a single act? That Naming him would change who he was destined to be?

"You did this? You took him from his family?"

The Goddess nodded.

What could be said? How could she express her horror, the betrayal?

"We waited for the Hero. But he never came. We needed to act, or else all would be lost."

"You could not know! A Hero could have been chosen!"

"We could not take the chance."

"He was a child!"

"Everyone begins as a child."

"It was cruel."

"Crueler than leaving him for Ganon?"

Zelda could not speak, her breaths ragged.

"I did what I could for him." Ordona said sadly. "I guided him to a home, a family. Love."

"He never felt he belonged," Zelda snapped out. She knew this in her very soul, though how, she wasn't sure. "He always knew he was weak."

"And yet he fought valiantly, time and again. He fought his own fate until the end, My brave, selfless Champion. He weakened the evil destined to wake. Hopefully, it is enough to carry us until the Hero will come."

The boy walked across the wilderness. Head down, with heavy steps. He stumbled, starving and thirsty, his eye milky as he looked to the distant mountains.

Alone.

Zelda turned to the Goddess. "No."

"My child, it is written. He is the-"

"No! He is not the Enemy. Ganon is my Enemy and I will take Link back! I will not abandon him like so many others. Like You."

The Goddess measured her. "You are not the Hero."

"Neither was he, yet You demanded he sacrifice himself, threw him into the battle he could never win."

The Goddess of peace grew angry. "I did what was needed to protect all My people. Surely you understand, young queen."

Fury could not heal her hurts, but she would still use it. She lifted her chin.

"I will save the man I love."

"At what cost?"

It was a cruel choice she refused to make. "How many will die if I do not try? He has Power and Wisdom. If he finds Courage…"

"Impossible. Only the Hero can wield it."

"You named him," Zelda countered. "You changed his fate. How can we know what he is capable of?"

The wound he had left throbbed. Clearly, she had been too weak to hold it. She was not destined for Wisdom, it seemed. What did that make her? Had he spoken the truth, that this time he would gain absolute power?

"Lady, if I may."

Ordona gestured permission to the Ancient Hero.

"I would not see him fall. I have seen his spirit. I…I have kinship with him."

"You would aid this girl?"

"What choice do we have? I know his power. He will destroy everything. If I can prevent that, I must try. Death does not end the Hero's call."

Zelda heard these words as a chorus, in lost tongues and voices young and old. Countless Heroes, joined as one, a single purpose.

Reality dampened her hope. "He has Power and Wisdom, and the Master Sword."

"Then you will need a weapon to counter the Shadow Blade. A sword to pierce the darkness. Give me the stone."

Zelda drew the broken diamond from her dress. It seemed to hold his image, damaged, but still strong.

Ordona took it. Light shone from her hands. Zelda had to look away, the blinding power heating her skin, moving through her, burning the taint of evil she still carried in her heart.

She sighed, now realizing how it had weighed on her. Ganon knew this battle, had many weapons; she was just learning. She must be on her guard at all times.

"For you, child."

It was a beautiful weapon. The graceful lines of the slender blade curved into the hilt. The diamond shone at the cross guards, still cracked.

"Yet not without beauty or value."

Zelda took it. It was heavy, she could not hold it straight. "I do not know how to use it."

The Ancient Hero drew his blade. "Then we have not a moment to waste. The battle approaches. You must be ready, Hero."

She staggered into the dawn.

Every part of her ached. Her wrists and arms were hot and numbed, a promise of agony tomorrow. The sword made a ringing sound as it dragged behind her, the point scoring the stone steps of the temple.

She walked blindly on.

"Your Majesty?"

She stopped. A man stood before her.

"Your Majesty, what…" He seemed stunned, his eyes huge. "Where…?"

There were others. They whispered. Pressing close, they reached out to her. Touched her. She was too tired to brush them off.

"What is this?"

That was Ordon. She turned to face him. He checked.

"What in Ordona's name?"

What had the Goddess done? Zelda looked down at herself. The Champion's Tunic glowed in the morning sun.

The crowd grew quiet.

"Hail, Champion!"

It started from the back, resolute.

"Hail, Champion!"

"Hail, Champion of Ordona!"

She went to Ordon. He bowed low.

"Hail, Champion."

"No! Keep your point up!"

Zelda parried and skittered back, overwhelmed by the Ancient Hero's blow.

"Again!"

The impacts had long since numbed her hand.

"Again!"

She had lost track of how many nights. Her legs shook with fatigue.

"Again!"

Her blade spun out of her grip. She stared down the Hero's sword, breathing deep, hungry breaths.

He was frustrated, though it was rare to show.

"Retrieve your weapon."

She lurched to her feet and ran as fast as her aching legs would allow. Had he done this same thing?

"We had years and he started young. You have the disadvantage of age and sex, as well as lack of aptitude."

The blisters on her hands cracked as she gripped the hilt.

"Again."

Sometimes she was aided by her own frustration. She lost her temper more than once, screaming in fury as she hacked wildly at imaginary foes.

The Hero met these outbursts with his ubiquitous dispassion. Today he didn't stop her but stood watching as she slammed her blade into the stone floor again and again.

She fell, panting, exhausted to the ground.

"A calm mind," he reminded her for the thousandth time. "Again."

The fatherly kindness of Ordon's soldiers was almost worse.

"Let's try a lighter bow," Davin said. He took the bow she could barely draw and handed her what was clearly a child's weapon. "We'll build up to the weight."

When her knives clattered uselessly off the target, when she fell, nose bloodied to the ground, when her horse threw her, his voice echoed in her heart.

You are weak. You don't belong. You are nothing.

She spat mud from her teeth and pushed away from the dirt.

"Your Majesty! Are you alright?"

How could it be alright? When her heart ached with her failure, with his loneliness?

Her ankle was sprained. She sat looking at it, the pain dull and distant. At the bruises on her legs as the soldiers inspected her injury.

"Try to stand."

She did with their help and limped to where her recalcitrant mount waited.

"Maybe we should be done for today," Sorrint suggested.

The boy huddled against a rock, the wind that fueled the dust storm wailing as it scratched at his face and arms.

"No." She dragged herself into the saddle. "Do it again."

But the worst was Enon.

The boy spoke to her with absolute respect. He never blamed her, never demanded an explanation. But she could see the anger in his eyes. The disappointment. The broken promise, knowing his idol would never come home.

The false idol you built. You can only blame yourselves.

Zelda shook her head, irritated by the creeping doubts. She knew well enough her failures without his whispering.

"You must be ever vigilant."

The Ancient Hero's voice was lost in the mist. Zelda waited, blade ready. No sound gave his position.

"The crytch move with the shadows."

There were no shadows here. The floor faded to nothingness in every direction.

White fire sliced through her shoulder. She bit off her scream, staggering forward. He stood behind her, blade flashing as he straightened.

"Death waits for you."

The pain faded. Not gone, but not real. She set herself. The Hero stepped back into the mist.

"Death is always waiting."

Some nights she thought death would be a welcome release from this torture. Had he wished for it? Or could his child's mind not fathom it, other than the hope to end his pain?

Behind, right!

She whirled, too slow to stop the strike. Deflected, the edge grazed her cheek, leaving a line of fire.

The Ancient Hero was surprised. "Well done. How did you know?"

Her hands trembled from a different sort of fear. "I didn't."

He stood at rest, hands folded atop his pommel-stone. "Explain."

"I…I heard a voice."

"Whose voice?"

"I don't know."

He watched her from empty eyes. "Again."

She was struck twice more. Then, Above!

Her own blade did cut her palms as she braced the sword to block the downward blow. The pain of it drowned in triumph.

"Enough," he said. "Rest and return."

She sank to the floor of the temple. She wiped her forehead, forgetting her wounds until her hands came away crimson.

Would they be gone by dawn? Her wounds earned here usually vanished by daybreak, leaving an ache to remind her of the lesson.

She walked half-asleep to the door of the temple. The sword didn't drag anymore. She noted that with pleasure.

Hot wind blew her sweaty hair from her face.

She stilled, confused by the predawn chill on her skin. The view across the valley wavered and the temperature with it. She focused, wanting to see.

He stood in the wide, low room. Moonlight filtered through thick shades, casting silver shadows. The heat waved over her, dry and sharp with dust.

"Link?"

He turned. Surprise for an instant, then a slow smile.

Stay back!

She knew that, though she wanted to run to him. She kept her feet firmly planted on the temple floor. He came closer but stayed out of arms reach.

"What have they done to you, little queen?"

She wanted to ask the same. He'd lost his boyishness. His hair was shorn close and his eyes were hard. She didn't recognize the style of his armor, nor the architecture in the room.

"You found your people, then?"

His smile flattened. "I don't need a family."

Leave.

She ignored the warning. "Where are you?"

He chuckled. "Why don't you come and see, my dear?" He reached for her.

Her sword was light in her hands, reflecting the growing dawn as she assumed her ready stance.

He almost started. "They made you the Champion?" His laugh rang from the temple walls where he used to worship. "You think you could challenge me?"

She was surprised when her anger did not come. "Give him back."

"Or what, little queen? You will slay me?"

"If I must."

"Kill me and he dies with me." He was confident, gloating. "See how weak your love makes you?"

"I will free him."

She spoke to the empty doorway. Her sword drooped, too heavy for her weary arms.

She stared down at it, knowing he was right. She could never challenge him. She was a fool.

He was weak once, too.

She tilted the blade and caught her reflection in it. She hardly recognized herself, bloodied, eyes dark with fatigue. Her hair tangled and matted.

Not what a Hero of legend would look like, and certainly not a queen.

And she wasn't, not anymore. She had no throne. No army. No power.

It does not change who you are.

She woke mid-morning in her bed.

Firn was there. Firn was always there, knitting, sewing, reading. Zelda rolled onto her back with a groan.

"I always wondered where he snuck off to," the old woman said. "He'd come home dirty and bruised. Never complained, never spoke of it. As he grew older, he was better at hiding it."

Was she allowed to talk about it? It felt wrong, not secret, but sacred.

"Tell me about him."

Firn counted stitches. "I remember the time he knocked down a bee hive and came home covered in welts. Shot it out of a tree with a slingshot, given to him by one of the Lieutenants, no doubt. They doted on the boy. He was in a fair way to being spoiled rotten by them.

"His face was so swollen, I hardly recognized him. 'What in Ordona's name have you been doing?' I demanded. And he, like always, replied 'nahn, Firn! Tes nahn larkin-!'

"I was only just" she translated. "All his excuses started with 'I was only just…' Just swimming in the fish pond. Catching hot-foot frogs. Climbing the flagpole. Riding an elk."

Zelda's abdomen ached as she giggled. "An elk?"

"Caught and wanted to train it as his pet." Firn sighed. "The boy was insatiable, always doing, moving, running."

Zelda thought of his restless pacing, trapped in the stone confines of the palace. She sat up, yawning. Her clothes were stiff with sweat and blood.

She scowled down at the too large trousers, cinched at the waist. The Champion's tunic was equally too large. Who would ever think the Hero would be a woman?

Firn tried to brush her matted hair. Zelda stopped her, looking at her face in the mirror. A light blond, it fell to her past her waist.

"Just cut it," she said.

Firn hesitated. "All of it, my lady?"

It would be easier, cooler. But she still admitted some vanity. "Long enough to put up."

The knife sliced through the strands. Zelda shook her head and golden tresses fell everywhere.

She bathed and dressed in the too large clothing. "Is there a seamstress in the house?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Can we do something about these clothes?"

"I will see to it."

At archery lesson, she still struggled to pull the weight of the bow.

Lift your elbow, use your shoulder and torso, not your arm.

It wasn't his voice, maybe a woman? It carried the same emptiness as the Ancient Hero's. From long ago, a memory. She squinted at the target. Davin had moved it back and the center was barely a visible.

The center never moves. The size and range do not matter. The center is always the same.

She loosed and was surprised to see it close to the mark.

"Well done!" Davin's surprise was not as pleasurable. "Again."

She lumbered in the armor they gave her. It fit well enough but was heavy. She stopped and gasped for air. Her hair still stuck to her neck and face.

"I need lighter gear," she told them. "I can't run in this."

They were concerned about her defense.

"I will never win in a contest of strength. He is stones heavier. He beat a Goron up a volcano on foot. I can barely run the ridge path."

She hated that narrow trail, more than any other exercise they put to her combined.

"I need more speed, lighter armor."

Wetlin stroked his beard. "I will see what we can do."

She forced herself to rise early and bathe and dress. She ate until she thought she would be sick. And she ran the ridge-line trail, though many times she was sick, retching before resuming the steep ascent.

An afternoon sword lesson was interrupted by shouts of alarm.

"Ordon! Ordon, come quickly!"

The household ran to the base of the stairs. A group of soldiers pressed forward, carrying their wounded.

"Crytch! In the Watch! They attempted to cross the bridge."

Ordon strode forward. "How many? Were there any casualties?"

Zelda knelt by a soldier clutching a bandage to his mangled leg. He lay against the steps as the healers were fetched. Her hands hovered over the wound wanting to help, but not sure how.

"Leave them."

She jerked her head up. He stood over her, his face dark with the sun blazing behind him.

"But, my lord," said a man next to her.

"I have no use for damaged soldiers. March on."

"Yes, my lord."

"Let me see him."

Zelda shifted, back in the soft sweetness of the valley. A healer drew back the dressing. "Bring him to the temple."

She helped him to his feet and he hobbled away on the arms of his comrades.

That evening, she met with Cantor.

"I would like to be trained as a healer."

He considered. "You do not have the aptitude."

She was tired of hearing of all the things she wasn't. Not a queen, not a warrior, not a healer. Not the Hero. What was she good for, then?

"He can only destroy. I must heal the damage he causes."

Cantor nodded thoughtfully. "It is not an easy thing. It takes years of study and practice."

She knew that well enough. Her ineffectual attempts at the craft had not aided him.

"I will learn what I can in the time I have."

Which was growing short. The days were long and golden. But she would need to leave by harvest.

"Again."

The Sword Made to Pierce the Darkness thrummed as she spun. The Ancient Hero's blade glanced off her block and she could attack. She missed, but quickly recovered and leaped out of range.

He straightened and nodded. "Well done."

She flushed with pride. The sword was steady in her grip. "Again?"

"No."

The room shifted. Or they moved. She swayed to keep her balance.

"Your Watch grows restless."

Below them, things moved on the dark plain. Eyes caught the moonlight.

"Kill one."

He was gone.

She ran for the nearest cover. A boulder, standing sentinel in the night. Her too large armor was loud and clumsy. She cut it off, not even taking time for the buckles.

She left the greaves which were strapped securely to her calves and the bracers to give her some way to protect her upper body. She would have paid her whole treasury for a Goron-made hauberk. His kit made sense, now she faced the same battle.

Still your breath.

She did, holding it as long as she could and letting it out in a slow, silent exhale.

Now, listen.

She couldn't see anything.

No, listen. They move with the shadows.

Shadows made no noise.

Don't they?

She waited, trying to hear over her heartbeats. Odd, how one never noticed how loud they really were. Could the crytch hear them, too?

Yes.

Terror crawled up her spine. She knew then that this wasn't the dream place. Her death here would be real. She did not have time to reflect on the unfairness of it. She crept from the boulder to another that gave her a better view of the plain.

Unfair? This was your choice.

The boy pushed away from the mud, choking on the foul water and his sobs, trying to hide them. They only brought more punishment, more pain.

She stayed as still as she could, until her breaths were a bare shifting of the night.

A calm mind, he told her over and over. How she could be calm when she could feel the darkness shifting, searching, hungry?

There. A motion, a hiss. She could see where her discarded armor huddled. Out of the night came a form. It nosed the pile. It lifted its head and turned to look toward her. Could it see through the blackness?

Some can. Others use smell, some vibrations. You must learn how each coven hunts.

Zelda gripped her sword. The heavy steel gave her a small measure of confidence.

The crytch moved jerkily, sometimes on all fours, sometimes lifting to its hind legs to test the air. Its head swiveled, bulbous and grotesque.

Anger joined her already tumultuous thoughts. He had cleared this plain, had spent years toiling, fighting, hunting and being hunted. He had burned the shadow-spawn from this place. Now they dared to tread on ground he sanctified with his own blood?

Destroy it.

It heard her, saw her highlighted by the moon. Its maw was wide and full of hungry teeth. Twice her height, long grasping arms. She danced out of its reach. Claws scraped her face.

Almost without thought, her blade slashed. Its howl was horrible. Sour blood gushed to the dry earth. The monster fell, twitching, its jaws still gnashing as the head rolled. It faded back to the shadows.

Her hair prickled, howls rising from the distance.

Now, run!

She did, taking only a moment to sheath her blade at her back. It was uphill, her boots scrabbling as the dirt gave way beneath her. She could hear them, felt the restlessness of the shadows stirred by her passing. They were now hunting her.

Make for the Gap!

She stumbled as the ground smoothed out beneath her. She knew this road. They had travelled it after their fateful meeting on the plain. She wondered she did not realize then how it would alter their lives.

Would he have fallen to shadow if she had not heeded Hylia's counsel? Would he still be safe in the valley of his home? But then, when Ganon came, she would not recognize the man she loved in the monster. Ordon would be lost. She would not be here now, learning how to save him.

Stop thinking and run!

They were gaining on her. She could see the hills that framed the narrow cleft. The Gap.

Something moved on the ridges. Her breath came as a sob. How had they penetrated so far? She would never break through.

Points of light on the ridge line. They streamed across the night sky. The arrows hissed as they passed her, hitting the ground behind her and flashing brilliant white light. Screeching, scrabbling, and the horde chasing her dispersed, blinded.

Her leaden legs thundered onto the wooden bridge. It swayed and she fought to keep her balance. At last she stepped onto Ordonian soil. Relief washed over her, safety, belonging.

She slowed and stopped, sinking to the ground. The soldiers of the Watch surrounded her, speaking in low but anxious voices.

"Your Majesty? How did- what were you doing in the Watch? At night?"

The ache in her chest didn't allow her to answer. They helped her to her feet.

"Your face?" She felt the dried blood from the demon's wounds. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she gasped. "No."

"We will take you home. Senin, accompany the queen. They rest of you, join the others. Protect the Gap."

Ordon was furious. "What were you thinking?" he demanded. Zelda sat directly on the ground, looking up at him as he stormed at her.

Suddenly she smiled, a silly grin made of pride and realization. As he scolded her for her folly, she saw a young Link, slender and long-limbed, blood still dripping from his forehead, not knowing that the king's anger was stoked by this gash over his left eye, narrowly missing the delicate tissues, the same that had been blinded in his forgotten infancy. His triumph swelled his chest, negating any punishment meted out by his father.

Ordon checked his lecture. He saw it, too, remembering the night the Champion had slain his first crytch. Tears glinted in his eyes. She pushed herself up and embraced him tightly.

"I will save him," she promised again.

The man could not speak, just held her close for a moment and then made room for the healer to tend to her face.

"You are too weak for a shield," Sorrint said matter-of-factly. She liked his blunt observations. They were what she was thinking, anyway. "You will use a knife in your off-hand instead."

Link could wield a sword in either hand. A slim dagger seemed absurdly ineffectual. Sorrint saw her doubts.

"Powerful warriors tend to underestimate their lighter, faster opponents. He may outmatch you in size and weight. However…"

The soldier attacked, catching her off guard. She defended as well as she could. The wooden practice knife jabbed in under his arm.

He smiled. "Few men can fight long with a knife in their lung."

The hot afternoon went quickly. Too quickly. The nights grew longer and cool. She still had so much to learn.

When Sorrint called an end to their grappling, she stepped forward.

"May I?"

He nodded. "Some of your blows were hard enough to bruise."

She laughed delightedly. Her hands warmed. His shoulder, his knee. She had managed to land a few of solid blows.

He stretched as she finished. "Very good."

She brushed her sweaty hair from her face. Maybe she should cut it all off.

"Your Majesty?" Davin called her across the arena. He was smiling, as well. Seeing their happiness allowed her hope to bloom once more. "Your Majesty, please come with me."

Firn was in the group, as were many of the soldiers who trained her and servants of the house. They presented her with cloth wrapped packages, oddly shaped.

She unwrapped them and gasped. "It is beautiful!"

The armor was buffed to a soft gleam so as not to catch the sun. Light but strong, the set fit perfectly, easy to buckle into place.

She twisted, feeling how the chest guard moved. The bracers, upper and lower, greaves, cuisse, all lightened, excess metal removed to make movement easy. The slat plate sewn into the leather over her abdomen did not bind.

She made a few experimental lunges. Her newly fitted clothing did not bunch under the straps. She could roll easily. She brushed her hair back impatiently.

"If I may?" One of the older soldiers led her to a chair. He smoothed her hair with a wooden comb. "My father taught me the traditional braids, though most warriors wear their hair short these days."

It took a little time and some eye-watering, but soon she had a set of six tight braids fastened at the end with strong cords, three on each side, circling her head like a crown.

"I will teach you before you go," he promised. "The Demon Watch wear no helms. If you cannot tie it back, you should sheer it. Nothing must obstruct your vision."

She presented herself to the Ancient Hero that night. He examined her and his empty voice was amused.

"You look quite the warrior, young queen."

She flushed with pleasure. "I feel like a warrior." How could she not, with her Sword strapped to her back, her knives at her waist. Her quiver slung under her scabbard, the bow newly strung. Her armor gleamed in the moonlight and she felt strong. Powerful.

"You are still nothing to him."

"But I am no longer weak."

"No, you are not weak. Show me how strong you have become."

The cool air of the night was delicious on her face. She stood on the balcony outside her room. It was past midnight, but she did not feel tired. Physically, yes, but her thoughts soared to the fading stars. She read them and noted how they had shifted. The summer was ending. The Watch seethed. Her Hero waited.

But she could understand his reluctance to leave this place. It was truly beautiful. Only in summer, they cautioned her. The snow could be brutal in the worst winters. The spring had been unseasonably dry, there was usually mud until midsummer even on the best maintained roads. She hoped to see these miserable times with him.

The wood beneath her feet trembled. A messenger at this time of night? But it wasn't the thrum of hoofbeats. It was drumming.

She turned, watching the people move about her. Soldiers lounging, servants carrying platters of food and drink, dancing girls. The air was thick with smoke from the fires and torches.

He sat to the side, looking out over his army as they celebrated. Though the faces were flushed with laughter and wine, there was fear, wariness. He stood and the revelers fell back before him, avoiding him as he strode through the throng.

He didn't see her. His crimson cloak billowed behind him.

"Link."

He turned. There was even less of him now. The fires danced in his eyes as he searched for her. She took a deep breath and stepped forward. Her hand stayed tight to the age-smoothed railing, anchored to Ordon.

His lip curled. "An unexpected pleasure, Your Majesty."

The fear was there, but it could not suffocate her any longer. She had slain many crytch, proven herself even to the Ancient Hero. He could not diminish her accomplishments. "Your army grows strong, Link."

"While you play at soldier." He took in her armor, the hilt at her shoulder. "You still think you can win this battle, little queen?"

"I must."

He advanced on her. She lifted her chin and met his hard eyes. He reached for her, taking one of her braids between his fingers. The end of it curled around his fingertip.

"It suits you," he said. "Quite the picture you make, the brave warrior queen. Would he recognize you, I wonder? Would he still find you desirable?" The red light of the flames made his eyes dark as they drifted down to her lips.

Even the drums went silent. The night air was still, the smoke frozen. He stirred and spoke almost if from a dream.

"Zelda…I…"

He blinked and jerked back, a snarl breaking his lips.

"You think you can use this against me?" he demanded, Shadow Blade in his hand. "You are nothing!"

She smiled triumph. She had seen it, an instant in his eyes, seen Link within. "You were right. It does make you weak."

His bellow faded to nothing as she stepped back into the night.

Screams broke out as he raged. Women and soldiers scrambled to avoid his blade. Soon the room was clear, nothing but smoking embers and destruction. He stood in the wreckage, chest heaving.

He barked for his men. They came timidly and he nearly slew them on sight, cringing scum. But he needed them, needed these worthless peons.

"Break camp. We march for Hyrule."

Zelda went to Ordon at first light.

"I need to leave."

He set aside the book he held. "What has happened?"

"Link has gathered an army. He readies for war. I must return to Hyrule."

Ordon rubbed his face. "You must be most cautious. Even before Ganon, he was a master tactician. I…I trained him well."

Zelda laughed. "I know it. He has had me at a disadvantage for years. Did you know he used to sneak into the palace?" Ordon nodded reluctantly. She sniffed and said, "We caught him once, he tells me."

"And he escaped, he always was quick to note."

"I'll have the warrant nullified as part of the peace treaty."

His humor died. "How will you take back your crown?"

She had no idea. "Hylia will guide me." Her voice was faint in this land, but Zelda could feel the strength she gave. "I will need men."

"I can spare you much fewer than I would like to."

"I understand. The Watch must be manned. I appreciate your defense of my people and I will make reparations when I retake my throne."

The six remaining convicts who had served Link volunteered to come. She had met them soon after her arrival to thank them for their risk in saving her.

"It is what he would have done," Karn had told her. She looked at them now, readied to travel into Hyrule with twenty-four others. They would not be inconspicuous as they moved across the countryside.

"Where do we march?" Sorrint asked. Zelda looked over the map, trying to see it as he would.

On the far side of Castle Town lay its sister city, Kakariko. If she had the support of her own soldiers, she would retreat there, use the mountains to her advantage.

A memory of that night came back. "Have any of you crossed the Bottomless Swamp?"

Karn eyed her. "That's dangerous. And leads to nowhere." On the map, he was right. After the Swamp came a cluster of fishing villages and the open ocean.

"The Zora," she explained. "We cannot reach them with any speed if we follow the trade roads. We will be spotted long before. I do not know who or how many of my Magistrates will side with me. I do not know the breadth of the conspiracy that supplanted me. I am sure they have pronounced me dead, either by execution or assassination."

Had she waited too long? Was her chance gone to reclaim her throne? But she had needed this time to prepare herself.

"We will invoke the Assembly, demand assistance to return me to my rightful throne."

"Why would they care?" Karn asked. "I've dealt with these Zora. They don't have much time for Hylians or any other race."

"It is a risk we must take. They must honor the old ways. Hyrule has borne the brunt of the endless battle for millennia. They owe us allegiance in this war."

"And if they decide to side with Ganon?"

"Then all is lost anyway."

Sorrint agreed with her. "This is bigger than Ordon and Hyrule. If they cannot see that, they will learn it to their despair. Ganon will consume everything."

She stood looking out over the gathered populace. It was strange to be a queen once more. These people who sheltered her deserved her protection as if they were her own.

She pitched her voice to carry over the crowd. To the pyre that still lay empty at Ordona's feet.

"Long have our peoples been at war. I cannot repay you the kindness you have shown me in my darkest hour. When I had given up hope, you carried me on until I found my way.

"I will do everything I can to return your prince to you. I ask you now to keep fighting. Man the Watch, as you have done for generations. Soon, too soon, it will come time to retreat. I will have a place of refuge ready for you in Hyrule."

She knew that absolutely. He would come over the mountains to the northwest, move east and south, rolling over his adopted homeland on his way to conquer Hyrule.

"We have stood against Ganon since the creation of our land. We will stand firm now. I will destroy the threat to our peoples or I will die trying."

They cheered, a massed voice of assent and support.

"Be safe. May the Goddess protect you."

They climbed the same ridge trail as the first time. They passed the clearing with its stone fire circle. She looked down the path to where his sword lay. She did not stop. She needed each of her weapons for the coming task.