Chapter 7: The Great Cemetary

The road rolled on over the sandy hills and through the dips between them, and soon the pass between the mountains was completely out of sight – and with it, the strange wolf. Zelda kept glancing back, ever expecting it to come after them, but it never happened. She noticed that Qiral too looked over her shoulder, though not as often. It was a relief that the animal stayed away, and yet, something made Zelda want it to show itself again.

However she soon got other things to think about.

They crested a hill, one like all the others and gazed down at a field of death. Zelda's breath stuck in her lungs. She had seen maps, but not quite grasped the scope of it.

The landscape ahead flattened out, the road continuing eastwards. But to the south, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but rows upon rows of graves. Tombstones, crumbling monuments, a few distant buildings that could only be crypts. Nothing but the wind moved down there, rattling the brown leaves of twisted, dead trees and shriveled up bushes. Leaves and sand laid in droves between the sculpted stones and on paved, unkempt paths that only led deeper into a glum kingdom of misery.

"Wake up." Qiral's hand swept up in front of Zelda's face, fingers snapping.

Zelda recoiled, pulling at the reins hard enough to make her poor horse whinny. And of course, when she looked at the Gerudo, Qiral was smirking. That was beginning to become a familiar sight.

"All this didn't come from one single event," Qiral said. "It accumulated over the years."

"Ah." Zelda's shoulders dropped, and she allowed herself a small sigh of relief. Nobody had explained it to her before, and the sight of all the graves was bone-chilling.

"Of course, they can't use it nowadays, since it's a breeding ground for moas and goddesses knows what. I don't get why you don't burn your dead." Qiral swept out her arm at the forest of monuments. "Wouldn't have this problem then."

Zelda blinked, thinking of the grand tombs of the Sand Temple.

"But Gerudo don't—" she started, but cut herself off. She looked between the graves and Qiral. "Or do you, nowadays?"

"A pyre for the King, that's how it used to be," Qiral said. "When wood was rare and valuable." Her mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. "But we haven't had a King in a while. However we do have forests now."

She urged her horse forwards, shaking her head.

"It's the same stupid problem on the southern side of the great island," she said over her shoulder, not waiting for Zelda to catch up with her. "A huge area like this full of death and sorrow, it's just asking for a curse. Ganon probably just had to walk up and…" She snapped her fingers again. "You Hylians are so stubborn about the wrong things."

Zelda opened her mouth to defend her people, but threw another glance at the endless graveyard and held her tongue. It was hard to make an argument with such a crushing amount of contrary evidence right beside them.

Clenching her teeth she made her horse move up beside Qiral. The Gerudo said nothing more, and Zelda appreciated the silence.

It did not take as long as it felt until they glimpsed the white walls of Mido. But the first thing they saw were trees.

Rows of pines grew around the walls – not close enough to be used in a siege, instead meant to keep the sand under control. There were rough stumps and burned husks of trees, but plenty new ones had been planted to replace those that had been lost in attacks. Soldiers patrolled the outskirts of the artificial forest, halting the travelers when they approached. It was a brief encounter, Zelda just showed the Queen's letter and they could move on.

Mido was a very different sight than Rauro and the Castle Town. This was a harbor city, with the masts of ships visible past the pure white buildings. The houses were more rounded here, and each one had drying racks with fish set out in the sun. Crying sea gulls circled above, always chased away by the nearest person whenever they landed to snap at anything edible. There were fewer dogs and more cats here, Zelda noted, and but the air was somber – tainted by the closeness to the cemetery. And yet, these people refused to give up their ancestral homes.

The local Captain greeted them much in the same way the one in Rauru had done. Zelda found herself more relaxed this time, since the risk of rumors reaching all the way here was much smaller. That changed, however, as she went to the pigeon master to see if there had been any messages. A small hope dared to burn in her heart until she watched the man shake his head.

Nothing to do but head to the inn and relay the lack of good news to Qiral. The Gerudo just shrugged, not surprised in the least. Zelda resigned to the same feeling.

It didn't stop her from rising before sunrise and go to see the pigeon master again, just to make sure. Even at this hour, before light, the station was manned by an alert young man. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could give her, and she quickly returned to the inn.

No reason to stay a moment longer than they had to, so she walked straight up the stairs and knocked on Qiral's door. By the muffled call from inside she entered, finding the Gerudo cross-legged on the bed with her scimitar laid across her lap and just taking a whetstone from her open bag. Lit candles on the wall beside the bed illuminated the room in a warm, flickering glow.

"No news?" Qiral said, barely looking up from her work as she began to sharpen the blade. The cold rasp of stone against metal sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the morning, and Zelda quickly closed the door before answering. She didn't want to risk waking up anybody else with the noise, and she also wanted to be able to speak freely with her companion.

"Unfortunately, no," Zelda said. "We just have to press on and hope we can find him in the Dread Lands."

"Slippery little hero boy." Qiral turned the scimitar over, studying the edge. Then she flicked her wrist and the weapon whirled up in the air, spinning like a saw blade dangerously close to her sharp nose. "Somebody should stab him." She snatched the sword by the handle and gave Zelda a sideways grin. "Just a little."

The gentle candle light flared on the blade and the gold earrings she wore. For a second, the image of elegant, dancing shadows by firelight against the vast expanse of the desert, in the shadow of Gerudo fortress played in Zelda's mind. She pulled herself back into the present with a shake of her head.

"I think the Queen and the country would prefer to have him in mint condition," Zelda said. She managed to smile politely, despite not feeling at ease with the morbid humor.

"Oh, you're no fun."

Qiral placed the blade back in her lap and began running the whetstone along the edge again.

"But," she said with a slanted smirk, "come on now, he's not going to apologize and return home because we ask him."

Zelda pursed her mouth.

"Depends on what situation he's in," she said. "If he is close to finding out who stole the Triforce of Power we may as well just help him."

"And if not, you'll knock him out?" Qiral said, laughing.

"If I must."

"So you'll have to stab him a little." The Gerudo grinned. "I promise I won't tell the Queen."

"Thank you." Zelda sighed and rubbed her forehead. "And if it comes to that I'll require you to carry him."

Qiral laughed so hard she almost dropped her whetstone.

"Ah yes!" she said. "You drug him, I truss him up and toss him over my shoulder. He'll love it."

It was difficult to not be amused by the sheer absurdity.

"I'm beyond caring what that fool thinks," Zelda said, struggling not to let her lips twitch.

She tried not to think to hard about the fact that finding a clever man in a monster infested, unknown land would be incredibly tough. Then again, he may very well leave a trail of destruction in his path – even if she had not seen him in action, based on what she had heard of him this Link was not one for subtlety.

Qiral nodded, still chuckling.

"You'll have to be like that, to capture him," she commented.

To that, Zelda just hummed and went to grab her things.

They only stayed a little while longer to eat breakfast, waiting for dawn to break so that they could safely travel along the cemetery.

The streets were empty when they left the inn, but the myriad of torches burning along the top of the wall illuminated the many soldiers stationed up there. A gentle, sleepy wind blew and in a distance there was the whisper of waves crashing on the beach, but other than that it was as if all of Mido held its breath as the sun peaked above the horizon.

Even when they got to the town gate, they had to wait for a little while until the guards deemed it safe enough to let them go out.

All was still, a veil of mist rolling in across the cemetery and swathing it in a pale void. But every now and again, there was a strange glow from deep within the mist, sweeping about and disappearing again. Zelda drew out the Queen's bow from her bag, keeping a close eye on the graves.

After having spent two days on horseback, it felt strange to walk out on the road. But the horses would have to stay, as per the Queen's orders. The gate remained open behind Zelda and Qiral for a little while, the guards ready to let them flee inside if need be. They heard it shut with a soft, distant thud when they got far enough away.

The road stretched ahead of them, and the rising sun cast their shadows far down along the path as they hurried along. It was a long way to go, but it would only get safer as the morning moved on. That was at least a comforting thought.

And then the wolf appeared.

It came wandering down the road out of the mist ahead, as if born straight out of the fleeing night. Zelda stopped, hesitantly hooking her fingers on the bowstring – and yet, somehow, she had almost expected it. Qiral too stopped, hands on her hips and tilting her head as the wolf approached.

It walked with purpose, stopping only a few feet ahead of them and watching them silently. Its fur was dark, but there were paler markings on its belly and head.

Qiral exchanged a glance with Zelda, and then stepped forwards. Gingerly, but without fear, the Gerudo reached towards the wolf. It still did not move, only bowing its head a little when she touched it. She combed her fingers through its neck fur, and when it still did not make a motion to bite, she stepped closer.

"What, glad that we don't have horses to spook anymore?" Qiral said, giving the huge, furry head a brusque but affectionate rub. "What a strange one you are."

The wolf wagged its tail, reminiscent of a dog – but unlike a dog, it did not lol its tongue or try to jump up to beg for more attention. Instead, it just sat there, with a somber air.

Though she hesitated for a moment longer, Zelda finally relaxed and let go of the bow string.

"Do these things happen often here?" she wondered, looking the wolf up and down. Even sitting, its head reached to her chest.

"They didn't where you're from?" Qiral returned with a smirk. If she saw Zelda's flinch, she pretended not to – which was appreciated.

Qiral started forwards again, moving past the wolf while watching it. She did not look surprised, and Zelda wasn't either, when the animal stood up and followed. Meeting Zelda's gaze, Qiral shrugged with a chuckle and then kept moving on.

Though she hesitated for a moment longer, wondering what this peculiar meeting could mean, Zelda eventually hurried after the Gerudo and the wolf.

The road had seemed long on horseback, but on foot it seemed to never end. Only the distant mountains promised that there was something else than the sand and the mist that hid the endless ocean of tombs. Only logic told Zelda that they had not been walking forever when the hills finally got into sight, showing where the road south was. They hurried on to the crossroads and headed down across a much more narrow road – it was a sort of relief because the landscape was a bit more varied here, but knowing where they were now finally headed made Zelda clench her jaw.

And also, taking the southern road soon took them closer to the graveyard. Still, the sun was rising.

The mist began to slowly tear apart as the crisp wind of the ocean started combing through the air. The many gravestones and dead shrubs slowed the flow, however, and pockets of milky fog lingered. Zelda kept a close eye on the cemetery, clutching the grip of the Queen's bow in one hand. It would definitely work better than one of her daggers, if something came at them.

Every now and again an unclean glow fluttered up, shining like a huge firefly in the haze as it ducked and bobbed around, bleeding drops of fading flames. Noticing the travelers and wolf the glows flew towards them, only to recoil when they reached the edge of the mist. The dawn held them back and so they dove back into the shadows of the crumbling monuments and kept their distance. The single eye in the center of the strange light of each one unblinking, set on the intruders.

"Moas are less annoying than poes," Qiral commented. "At least they're quiet."

Zelda nodded to that, though she had no experience with the creepy, floating eyeballs that drifted about the graves. It seemed to be the case, however.

Looking ahead, she saw the sand give away to ocean, and a large bridge stretching towards the west. The graveyard continued southwards further on, but soon they would be away from it. A wave of relief washed over her, even knowing that they were heading straight into enemy lands. She preferred opponents that could bleed.

But they were not there yet, and she turned her head to keep an eye on the eerie, dead landscape. The moas might stay away but there might be something else there, like…

A figure moved amongst the graves.

It was far away, too far to be alarming, and it took a moment until she could make out what it was. Humanoid, and bulky. The sunlight behind it and lingering fog made it difficult to see much more, but then it stepped into a shadow. Several moas surged towards it.

"Stalfos," Zelda hissed, and Qiral twisted around to look.

The wolf stopped too, sniffing at the air as he sensed his companions' tension. When he spotted the distant figure he lowered his head, growling.

The undead towered above the normal-sized graves. It wore an armor and a helmet, and a round shield was strapped to its right arm. All the equipment had certainly been grand at some point, but time had not been kind to any of it. Large, discolored splotches of either rust or moss marred the metal, visible even at this distance. The helmet seemed to have had three prongs at some point but the top and left one were broken.

It turned its head at the travelers, and began to move towards them.

Squinting, Zelda thought she could see some worn, red symbols emblazoned on the armor and shield, but it wasn't close enough to make out. She wished for it to stay that way, and started to hurry down the road again.

Qiral and the wolf followed her, but all of them kept looking back.

"That one died with incredible regrets," Qiral said. She studied the distant undead, craning her neck around as she continued walking.

"How do you figure?" Zelda wondered. She moved along faster, only glancing occasionally at the ground in front of her to keep from stumbling.

The stalfos kept disappearing behind tall shrubs and large monuments, but the moas that circled around it like vultures always showed its position even when it came out of sight. Though their glow faded quickly with the rising sun, they kept sweeping around the skeletal form.

"The size of it, of course," Qiral said. She shadowed her eyes to see better. "Stalfoses are stronger the more bitter they were when they died." She shrugged. "Or so it's said."

Zelda could not recall being told that before, but if it was true it certainly made sense. She gazed at the distant scarecrow figure, a stitch of sympathy in her heart. What horrors had that poor soul lived through?

But she pushed it away and shook her head. No matter how tragic its past, now it was only a threat not worth the risk of fighting.

"Regardless, that only makes it more dangerous," she said. "There are probably more, too, so let's just hurry on."

For a moment Qiral said nothing. Zelda noticed the other woman's hands twitching and braced herself for an argument against Gerudo pride on the subject of running from an enemy. However, finally the redhead nodded.

"Agreed." There was not much enthusiasm in Qiral's voice, but she turned away from the graveyard and briskly walked on without looking back again.

Zelda hurried on beside her, trailing behind a couple of steps every now and again because of her companion's long legs making their pace uneven. Getting away from the graveyard as soon as possible was a pleasant thought though, and she did not mind having to half run every now and again to keep up. Ahead of them, the wolf loped onwards. It too seemed like it wanted to get as far away from the dismal area as quick as it could.

The path rose up and then dove down the side of another hill, broadening as it turned westwards. The cemetery disappeared from view behind them, and a refreshing wind blew in. Zelda breathed deep, gazing ahead. The long beach ended by an inlet, and a long, worn but still intact stone bridge stretched across the water ahead. And beyond, a great mountain stretched towards the sky – the new Death Mountain.

There were ruins of a military outpost just before the bridge, shattered walls and sharpened, broken poles sticking out of the sand. In its current state, Zelda couldn't tell if it had been Hylian or made by monsters. At the moment she did not care, and Qiral offered no comments.

They moved on quickly, climbing the worn steps up onto the bridge and starting to cross.

Zelda looked back, again and again.

Nothing.

Nothing.

She finally relaxed when they reached the halfway point of the long bridge, and no creature appeared to follow them from the graveyard. Squaring her shoulders, she set her sights ahead. On the other side, there was nothing but enemy land.


As the travelers and the wolf crossed just out of sight, a skeletal shadow crested the hill between the bridge and the cemetery. The sunlight sent the moas darting back into the shade of the graves, and the skeleton was left alone. The stalfos stood still for a moment, frozen like a statue – one empty eye socket and one lit by a dull red glow turned towards the distant figures.

It raised its left hand, stiffly swatting at the empty air by its shoulder as if trying to get rid of an annoying fly.

Then it started down the hill, marching with untiring steps straight towards the bridge.