Chapter 23

The raven swooped low through the dead trees, its midnight eyes shining in the pale light of the full moon. It was hopping from branch to branch, watching intently as the procession of strange creatures ambled through the dead forest. It carefully took an inventory of the many sparkling baubles which dangled from the various travelers, clicking its beak greedily in anticipation of a chance to make off with some shiny treasure. Finally, the temptation became too strong to resist, and the bird took flight once more, dive bombing the line of late night voyagers with a determined caw.

"Eek!" Zelda shrieked as the bird struck her head, its wings flapping frantically. The beast squawked in terror and surprise as the princess jostled back and forth. It had a clump of her hair in its beak, and yet more of the curled blond locks tangled around its taloned feet.

"Karida bara ur!" shouted one of the tiny robots. It struck her with its weapon, knocking the girl and the bird both to the ground.

"Hey!" cried Link. The boy bravely took a step forward, but another of the robots butted him in the stomach with their gun. He fell to his knees, the wind knocked out of him.

Zelda rolled on the ground, the white dress the Gorons had given her becoming caked with mud. The raven dislodged itself, flopping around in the dirt as it struggled to gain its feet. The bird took a few hopping steps, shook out its wings, and took to the air once again with a few strands of Zelda's shiny blond hair streaming from its beak.

"Why did it hit me?" said Zelda, trying to stand, which was difficult with her hands still bound behind her, "It is not my fault that a bird just tried to attack me! Where did these damnable little machines even come from?"

"Are you alright, Zelda?" said Link. The boy was staggering to his feet, fighting the pain in his gut. His knees and shins were all caked in mud now too, and he could feel the sludge seeping into the top of his boots. It was wet and cold and disgusting.

"I am fine," said Zelda, "I just wish we had some kind of idea as to what these little… things! -want from us."

"What did it say?" said Zig.

"Say?" said Zelda, "When?"

"When it struck you," said Zig, "It said 'Karida bara ur'. What does that mean?"

"Karida bara ur…" repeated Zelda, "Karida is 'bird'. Bara is 'to strike'. Ur makes the sentence negative… 'Don't hit the bird'? Why would a machine care what I do to a bird? This is ludicrous! Unacceptable! I am a princess of Hyrule, not some pack animal to be chained and dragged through the mud!"

"Don't think 'princess' means much where they come from," said Gwen. The pirate was shuffling along glumly behind the robot that led her, her spirit still noticeably dampened by the loss of Scarlett. Zelda had made a point of not replying when the older girl spoke to her, but she was so flustered by the encounter with the raven that she forgot she was still trying to be mad at Gwen.

"Where do they come from though?" said Zelda, "I have never seen anything like them in my life!"

"I think we'll be finding out soon," said Zig, nodding in the direction they were traveling. Up ahead, there was a break in the canopy of brittle, dead trees. Beyond they could see the black wall of the dead city rising from the ground like an ancient monolith. The stones were black with soot and it looked as though the entire structure had endured a massive fire. The gates were tarnished, but they appeared undamaged by the passage of time, which caused Link to wonder at what metal they might be made of. Certainly iron would have given way to rust over the course of several thousand years, but the scorching on the surface was all the damage that had been done to the giant metal doorway.

More startling than the blackened gates of the ancient metropolis were its denizens, however. They stalked the tops of the walls, their shadows cast long and menacing by the sickly green glow of eldritch stones set into the cyclopean brick. They were not the hordes of undead Link and his companions had expected. Cresting the ramparts and clutching the remnants of ancient flagpoles were thousands upon thousands of ravens. The birds watched with tilted heads and clicking beaks, keeping their eyes on the travelers, even as they preened and ruffled their obsidian feathers.

"There are so many!" gasped Zelda.

"I hope they don't dive on us," said Link, "I don't think I could keep from swatting a couple if that many all came at me at once."

"They must keep them here," said Zig, "Like a sacred animal. Curious, but not unheard of. I've heard of a town far to the West where it's illegal to kill cats. Perhaps these little machines are the stewards of this ancient city, and perhaps it is against their laws to kill ravens?"

"Quite a supposition!" exclaimed Zelda, "But what kind of people worship ravens?"

"What kind worship cats?" said Zig, "Whoever the people were I doubt they are around to ask. I shudder to think what it will mean for us going in there unarmed. If the rumors are true, beyond this wall the streets of this city crawl with re-dead."

"If the city is so dangerous, how have our enigmatic little capturers faired so well?" said Zelda, "Why would the re-dead not destroy them?"

"Re-dead feed on the living," said Zig, "They probably wouldn't even recognize these machines as a threat."

"Look," said Link, "The gate is moving!"

The sound of turning gears and reeling chains echoed from within the ancient wall. The blackened gate began to swing open, its massive doors scraping across the rough stone. A glare of sickly, green illumination erupted from the crack in the doorway, revealing a horrifying image of the ghoulish necropolis beyond.

The streets were of a kind of stone unfamiliar to them. The buildings within were angular and symmetric, their roofs crowned with intricate spires and onion minarets, indicative of a sophistication of architectural knowledge most curious considering their incredible age. The smoothly paved roads were lined with tall black lamps, glowing green gemstones set into their crowns. Steam drifted from gutters, causing a ghostly mist to permeate the dank air, and limiting vision down the street. In the distance, the lamps became twinkling stars of eldritch green, lost in the murky fog. Between the wayward emerald stars, the terrible silhouettes of shambling things were stalking, Hylianoid in shape but unmistakably inhuman in their broken, limping gait.

"What are those?" said Link, stupidly.

"Shh!" hissed Zig, "Re-dead…"

The little robots, to Link and his companion's horror, forced them through the black gates, and the massive chains began to reel, slowly sliding the monolithic doorway shut behind them. Zelda protested, dragging her heels in the dirt and pulling against the insistence of the jailors, but it was no use. The little machines were powerful, and it was as if a whole herd of horses was pulling her along. The shadowy figures drew nearer, their horrific features coming into clearer view as the green lamps pierced the drifting mists. They were the dehydrated, emaciated, desiccated husks of people. Their eyes were sunken and hollow, skin leathery and sun-dried. Their mouths were perpetual grins, yellowed teeth standing like rows of tombstones, peeking from the puckered lips, as brittle and wrinkled as dead leaves. Somewhere a scream echoed into the night, yet none mistook it for having come from a mortal tongue.

"Avoid their eyes," said Zig, his gaze snapping down to his feet, "They don't see like regular people. If you don't make eye contact, they might ignore you."

Zelda shut her eyes, whimpering pathetically as she stumbled on through the nightmare city. Zig and Gwen watched their feet, but Link could not tear himself away from the scene before him. He tried not to look at the horrible, lifeless faces of the re-dead. Instead, he focused on the city, the twinkling green lights, and the odd blackened stones. Balconies with wispy, curled balustrades crowned dark gable roofs. Menacing gargoyles peered from high perches, with wings like hawks and beaks like obsidian axe-blades. Ravens dominated the rooftops, and many of the buildings were slickened and stained white with their excrement. Link was watching the wily birds leap about and squawk as a fearsome gale tore through the dark streets.

The mists rose and swirled into little whirlwinds, and some of the ravens allowed it to lift them into the sky. They flocked between the towers and gables, soaring out over the heart of the city, and as they did the whistling midnight wind tore a swath in the obscuring mists. Suddenly, Link caught a glimpse of the heart of the city, far and away down the zombie-ridden thoroughfare. In the distance, a tower like a blackened spike pointed up to heaven, its jagged minarets reaching to the sky like an upturned dagger. Veins of green light ran from its base to its blasphemous crown, whereupon shone a sickly emerald star, like a lighthouse shining over the sea of dead buildings below, an ominous beacon of evil light at the center of the dark and silent necropolis. At first, Link thought there were clouds of black smoke whirling around the spire, but as he watched the flight of birds take wing to join their brethren the truth became clear: thousands of ravens circled the tower, flocking in crowds innumerable, perching upon the jagged peaks of the spire, and flitting around the green light like moths around a flame.

"I think I saw it!" cried Link.

"Link!" snapped Zelda, "You should keep your eyes shut! I do not know what I would do if one of those horrible re-dead were to harm you."

"No, Zelda, you don't understand," said Link, "The temple, I saw it! I'm sure I did! It was like a big tower with a glowing green light at the top. There were more birds, too. A lot more…"

Gwen snorted indignantly. "Great, but that doesn't really change anything. We already know where the temple is- at the center of the city. That doesn't get us out of our chains though."

Link didn't reply to Gwen. There didn't seem to be anything to say. The pirate's negativity was beginning to wear on him, but he shrugged it off. He couldn't really blame her for being upset. They went along, down narrow streets and alleys, under glowing lights and through swirling mists, past the shambling zombies. Link was unable to resist his curiosity, and kept a vigil on the creatures as they went past. He had, of course, heard many times about the death gaze of the re-dead. It was a legend so commonly known; many parents used it as a tactic to frighten their children into behaving properly. There was something different about these re-dead, though, compared to what Link had become accustomed to hearing.

For one thing, they didn't seem interested in the group of them at all. Zig had said that the re-dead may ignore them if they avoided eye contact, but as Link watched the zombies moving all around them he noticed that they seemed quite preoccupied with their own business to make any eye contact with him. In fact, the way that the things moved was disturbingly purposeful, if awkward and clumsy. He began to take closer care to observe the things, leaning to peer in windows and around corners as opportunity allowed with the little Robots leading him. He saw things he did not expect to see.

All around, the shambling re-dead were lurching through doors, leaning on countertops, crossing streets and meeting at intersections where they would stop and regard one another with amiable groans. One seemed to be sweeping the street in front of a shop, though his broom was invisible. Another was seated on a bench with his legs crossed casually, his arms held out in front of him with the fingers cupped as if holding a paper. His hollow eyes scanned the blank air intently, ticking along one way and then snapping back the other like a garden sprinkler. Everywhere around them the zombies were shuffling all about, going about their day as if they were just regular folk living in any urban city. They scrubbed dirty windows with invisible sponges, traded non-existent drink for intangible coin, and groomed the manes of absent horses, stroking empty air with brushes made of make-believe. It was as if death had forgotten to tell their bodies to stop living, and they carried out the same daily grind as they ever had, and ever would for another thousand years if given the chance.

"You guys," said Link, "Look."

"Link," pleaded Zelda, "Close your eyes, please. It's too dangerous!"

"But I don't think it is," said Link, "These re-dead… they're acting strangely…"

Zig was the first to brave a glance. He lifted his head, his wise old eyes surveying the street around him with no small amount of wonder.

"Do you see?" asked Link, watching the pirate drink in his strange surroundings.

"I do," said Zig, "But I almost don't believe it. They're acting… alive!"

Curiosity got the better of Gwen and Zelda, and they too opened their eyes to see the strange zombies. The sight was so strange and marvelous, for a long while they could only watch in silent amazement as the re-dead went about their peculiar business. Here was a zombie beating dust out of an invisible rug with an equally unseen rod. There was a group of morbid little children playing in a grim parody of ring-around-the-rosie. A matriarchal zombie was rocking in a chair nearby, her sunken eyes glancing from the merry children to the fictional knitting project she was apparently cradling in her lap.

"What sort of sorcery is this?" gasped Zelda, her delicate features twisted into an appalled grimace, "It is as if they are completely unaware that they are dead!"

"I can't explain it," said Zig, "but clearly there is more to this place than it seems. Re-dead are mindless; their only motivation is to drain life. Performing complex tasks should be entirely beyond them. I fear that only very dark magic could cause them to behave in this manner."

"Dark magic?" said Zelda, "I do not understand though. What purpose could this kind of morbidity serve to any magician? These creatures are merely… well they are just doing regular things. Look! That one is trying to play a flute! This hardly seems like it is getting anything done for anyone."

"Your guess is as good as mine, child," said Zig, "All I can say with any certainty is that this is not normal behavior for re-dead."

"You can say that again," said Link, observing as a group of nearby zombies chatted with one another, gesturing casually as they traded guttural grunts and meaningless exclamations.

The odd zombies were a palpable curiosity, but in the absence of answers and the apparent lack of danger presented by the peculiar post-mortems the group's speculations soon gave way to silence. Weariness set in, and Link was beginning to become aware of the sore feeling in his feet, and the dull ache radiating from the joints of his arms and legs. His stomach grumbled at him, and he thought about the meager rations in Scarlett's bag, which the little robots had relieved them of. He wondered darkly about whether or not the little tyrants would consider the need to feed their prisoners. He imagined a secret prison, full of the withered and malnourished remains of a thousand captives who had had the same misfortune before him, their bones his deathbed to waste away on as the hours crept along and crumbled away to starvation and dehydration sickness. Or perhaps there would be no rest in death, either. Perhaps they were already doomed to wander the lifeless streets as shambling zombies, gravely unaware of the futility of their daily doings, unknown to any save the midnight ravens.

Link's mind was full of exhaustion, misery and dread, and by the time the little robots led them under the cover of a low stone roof he was feeling delirious from the exertion of the past hours. It had to be well past midnight, perhaps even near dawn, and he hadn't slept since they had left Diamondhearth. The Goron city seemed like a distant memory, and he would have believed that the prior morning had been weeks ago. His weary mind fantasized whimsically about waking up in some feathery bed deep underground, the morbid and leathery faces of the shambling zombies traded for the bright and beaming smiles of Toro and Doro.

The city disappeared, and they found themselves in the low-ceilinged hall of some squat stone building. More of the odd glowing stones lined the corners of the walls, and the grey-black stones were lit with a pale green luminescence. There were more robots in this building, zipping this way and that along the silent hallways, busy with tasks of their own. They paid no attention to Link and his friends.

They were led through several corridors, past rooms lined with ashes and soot and the crumbled remains of ancient furniture. Link had never seen an office before, but even if he had there was nothing present to indicate that that was what this had been. It wasn't until they arrived at the back of the little building and ushered through a metal door into a room lined with narrow jail cells that Link was sure of the function of the building they had entered.

"This must be like a watch post," said the boy, "It's just like the one in the city, with the cells in the back past where all the guards work. I stayed in one the night they branded my hand."

They were separated into individual cells. Link was relieved to see that there were no leftover remains on the floor, and no evidence of any prior prisoners. The only exception was one cell in the far corner, where a single re-dead reclined against the wall in a leisurely position. It did not acknowledge them as the little robot forced them each into their cells.

Zelda was jailed across the aisle from Link, Gwen next to her, and Zig was in the cell next to Link's. There were two more empty cells between Zig's and the one which held the solitary re-dead. The only way in, the solid metal door which was composed of the same curious alloy as the city gate, was nearest Link's cell, although once it closed he was quite sure no power he possessed would open it. More eldritch stones served as lighting, but on Zelda's side of the room each cell had a single window, too tiny for a person to fit through and set uncommonly close to the ceiling, thick bars rending them impassable for anything aside from air and water.

Their cell doors were slammed shut, and one of the little robots lifted its arm into the air, making a flourishing gesture. A metal click came in reply, and the doors were suddenly locked. Satisfied that their prisoners were secure, the little robots filed out of the room one by one, the heavy metal door closing behind the last one with a slam. There was the sound of gears grinding, and a deep chunking sound informed them that their prison was sealed.

"What do we do now?" said Zelda, grasping the bars and pulling uselessly on the door.

"There's nothing to be done," said Zig, taking a seat on the floor with his legs crossed. He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees in a meditative fashion, "For now we should get some rest. We can worry about our next move in the morning."

"I am not sure that I can sleep," said Zelda, flopping down on the floor.

There was a long and pregnant silence as they sat in the dreary jail, nothing but the cool stone floor to comfort them. Link felt drowsy, but he could not find a comfortable way to lie upon the unforgiving ground. Finally, Zelda spoke up again.

"Zig," said the princess.

"Yes, Zelda," said the pirate, without opening his eyes.

"Do you know any more stories about the Shiekah?" said Zelda, "Like the one you told us about Ruka and Ryll?"

"I do," said Zig, smiling slyly, despite himself, "Would you like to hear one?"

"Please," said Zelda.

The pirate cleared his throat, straightened out his back, and prepared to speak. Link stretched out on his back, letting his legs relax, and kicked off his boots to let his battered feet breath. The cool air felt refreshing, and he was relieved to be rid of the soggy sensation of mud seeping around his ankles. He closed his eyes, and focused on the low, soothing thrum of Zig's voice.

"This is the story of the Shiekah's flight from Hyrule and the beginning of the Gerudo War," began the pirate, "The tragedy of Ryll and Ruka had befallen the Shiekah, and the King had pronounced the exile of all the Shiekah from Hyrule's fields. The procession from Hyrule castle was a mile long. There had scarcely been time to pack the essentials of daily life, and many citizens of Castle Town had begun to refuse service to any person of Shiekah descent. Families were rendered homeless, and there was no place to bring them. Even Kakariko, the village which had been founded by the Shiekah centuries before, had shut its gates to the new refugees. Indeed, all of Hyrule was shut to our people. And, to make matters worse, the Gerudo had begun tirelessly hunting for Shiekah warriors at the demand of their King, his actions spurred on by a need for vengeance for the death of his daughter, the princess Ruka. Ryll's brother, Kull, was among the highest ranks of the Shiekah who set out from castle town, but already dissent was growing among the upheaved people. Many questioned Kull's loyalty and the legitimacy of his family as military leaders among the shadow tribe. In one of the many gypsy camps which dotted the plains of Hyrule those nights a rare occurrence could be seen. A Shiekah counsel was to be held, with each of the heads of every Shiekah family attending, and Impa the Matriarch to oversee the procession. The issue at hand: where the Shiekah would make their new home and what would be done with Kull and his family.

"Many potential solutions were presented for the problem of where the Shiekah would live. Many wanted to brave the Eastern Mountains, taking the river passage South of Kakariko and passing near the realm of the amiable Zoras. This route would take them far away from the Gerudo conflict, and buy them distance from the attention of the Hylian military, as most of those forces would surely be deployed to the West in the coming months. However, passage through the mountains would be nearly impossible without the gathering of new resources which could sustain them on that difficult journey. The Zora had little to fear from the elements, and rarely ventured from the safety of their domain, so even if the gentle fish-men agreed to help them, there was little they could provide in the way of equipment suitable for crossing the mountains. The Gorons could have proven more helpful, but many Shiekah families were wary of venturing too close to Kakariko, where the presence of the Castle Guard could still be felt. In those days, there was no other way to scale the sheer cliffs of Death Mountain, and so asking the Goron's for aid was out of the question.

"To the south, across the clear waters of Lake Hylia, the wilderness was thick and untamed, and though there were rumors of foreign kingdoms somewhere far beyond the endless jungle canopies, the Shiekah would be nearly as helpless to sustain themselves in such an environment as they would be in the mountains. Sure, some Shiekah knew how to live off the land, and many were excellent hunters and trackers, but among the procession were children and the elderly and the likelihood that they would survive even one winter in the unknown forests was slim.

"Indeed, the options available to the Shiekah were grim, and none could seem to come to any agreement on how best to handle the problem of their sudden transient state. However, there was an issue that seemed undeniable among the combative murmurs of the frightened people: Justice must be done unto the house of Ryll, for it was that traitor who had caused their plight, and nearly every voice amongst the clan leaders cried for more blood to atone for it.

"If things had been left to happen as they would, Kull and his family may have been executed on the spot, or shunned from the Shiekah clan all together, which was just as good as a death sentence considering the state of the world at the time. It was by the wisdom of old Impa, the Matriarch, that Kull found his redemption, and it was through the quest she bequeathed him that the Shiekah would find their salvation.

"'There are many among you who cry for justice and crave blood spilt to atone for the shame this family has brought upon our tribe,' said the old Matriarch, 'but I ask you: when Ryll's brother and father and sisters and mother all lie dead at your feet, will you not still hunger? Will you not still feel the biting cold? Will you not still tremble as you long for a roof over your head, and a pillow beneath it? Let us make our punishment into our salvation, and let us bring redemption on the House of Ryll in a way that might put right the wrongs which have been done unto us. We shall send Kull, Ryll's own brother, away this night, and he shall be charged with finding a safe realm for the Shiekah to call home. We will send him, and we will send other scouts, and each one shall have that same task. However, for Kull it will be more than just a quest, because for him his home shall be at stake not once but twice. If Kull should not return to us with the answer to our plight, then the House of Ryll shall be forever cast out from the Shiekah. Either way, the sins of Ryll will have been punished, and justice will have been served for the Shiekah, and besides we might find an answer to our more pressing problem of finding asylum in a world which has turned its back on our kind. I feel this serves the purpose of the Shiekah more completely than an execution or a further exile, which would only serve to make us mirrors of the same tyranny which saw us refugees to begin with.'

"This roused a fire of hope in the hearts of the Shiekah, and a cry went up among them to follow old Impa's plan. Kull was beside himself, shocked to find a sword being thrust into his hand, and an adventuring pack strapped to his back. He had been miserable since the death of his brother, an event which he had never foreseen the fateful night he had exposed his sibling's dark secret. He was sure that he was going to die that night, felled by the executioner, just as his brother had been. Instead, the wise Matriarch had twisted her words in such a marvelous way, and now he was being led out of the camp on a snow-white warhorse, to cries of affirmation and enthusiasm, and hopeful faces wishing him luck on his endeavor.

"He would have a month to accomplish this seemingly impossible task, and though he was thankful for a chance to secure his family's place amongst their kin, he was conflicted about his own survival. The guilt he felt for the fallen Ryll, and the impossibility of the task before him, were like storm clouds hanging heavy over his head. He wandered for the first day, circling the edges of Hyrule field, and going to and fro across the hills, trying to find some sense of direction. Finally, he came to the conclusion that the passage over the mountains was the most sensible idea that had been discussed, and he resolved to start there.

"For days, Kull traveled over the Eastern Mountains, scrounging for food and water, and scouting the ridges and valleys for someplace suitable to bring his Shiekah brethren. He found many curious and secret places, and faced many dangers on this journey, but each valley and each peak lacked certain qualities he knew a refuge for the Shiekah would need. Either the water was too far, or there was no defensible position, or there was no cover from the elements. In fact, one popular legend says that Kull almost headed back to lead the Shiekah to a meadow of pristine beauty near a fresh stream which was safe to drink from; until he learned that the ground was rife with bombflower saplings and could have easily killed every one of them if they had tried to build upon it.

"He had been travelling for two weeks when he came to the distant lands on the far side of the Eastern Range- those same windswept plains where we purchased horses when we first set out for Kakariko, if you recall. Those alien fields were sparse and barren by comparison to lush Hyrule, and Kull wondered that any could survive in such a wasteland, but he saw no recourse and resolved to push on, knowing that returning would only mean embracing a less noble demise than he would face on the open plains. For days, he wandered the wasteland, until his waterskin was dry and his stomach pained him to the point where his legs could no longer carry him. Kull succumbed to the fever of dehydration, and fell unconscious upon his steed. He very nearly died, but the Goddesses had other plans.

"The Gigguri, the tribal easterners who wear strange bones in their septum's and whose ear-lobes hang low, draped with odd jewels which dangle near their shoulders, found the dying Kull astride his horse, dangling limply from his stirrups. It is unclear whether portent or prophecy or mere sympathy motivated them, but the savages saw fit to rescue the boy, and over a period of days he was restored to health. When he awoke, he found himself amongst a people he was wholly unprepared for. Their language was strange and rough in his ears, and their scant and shameless dress unnerving to him, yet the tribesmen were kind and jovial to him, and he had learned enough of strange cultures not to question their unlikely hospitality. He partook of their strange foods and stranger drink, and accepted the medicines of their shaman with gracious humility. It was not until night fell on those barren lands, and he observed the phase of the rising moon, that he understood the desperation of his position. In his ailed wanderings, he had wasted many days! Less than a week separated him from his deadline, and that was not even enough time to make the long ride back to Hyrule, even if he found the unlikely sanctuary his people sought.

"He pleaded most desperately with the Gigguri, though he knew his words held no import for them. They smiled enigmatically at his frantic gestures and cooed soothingly at him with words which held no meaning in his ears. Despair fell hard upon Kull, and he at once wished that he had been left to die of thirst and unawares of his utter failure. His mind could only dwell on lost Hyrule, and the family he had failed twice, and the brother he had killed with another man's hands. Practically he had drawn his dagger upon his own heart, and would have struck himself down to redeem what little honor he perceived remained within him, but again, the Goddesses had another plan for Kull.

"An elder shaman, wizened and mute, came to Kull and took his hand. The boy was weak and spiritless, and it mattered not to him whither he would be led. The old shaman took him out into the wastes, and the moon sunk low over the horizon as they crossed that barren land for hours upon hours. The shaman never spoke, and the boy never questioned him. There was no hope within him, and he cared not what fate the old man might bring him to.

"At last, the glory of the sun crested the rocky wastes once more, and the light shone upon a boulder of goliath proportions, the silhouette of which revealed an archaic altar of impossible construction upon its zenith. The standing stones, arranged in a circle, and stacked upon one another in arrangements reminiscent of ancient runes, were the apparent destination of their journey. Horror gripped Kull, and at once he had the impression that the old shaman meant to bring him up on that ancient dais and sacrifice him to some blasphemous god unknown to any who spoke the common tongue.

"Kull paused and contemplated the terror before him as the wizened old shaman gestured for him to follow up the steep face of the giant boulder. Kull cast his gaze back only once to the distant purple mountains, and longed for the green fields of faraway Hyrule, and the life he could never return to. What escape could there be? If death would come to claim him, he would meet it as a proud Shiekah. He steeled himself against the horror, and followed the old shaman high upon the rock.

"At the center of the circle of standing stones, there rested a podium, overgrown with moss and smeared with dirt. The shaman approached it, and beckoned Kull to come closer. He scorned his reluctance, drove out his fear, and stepped to the old man. The shaman slipped a bone-carved dagger from the loop on his belt, and brandished the weapon. Kull closed his eyes tight, and thought of home.

"But the plunge of that dagger never came. Scraping and scratching told Kull that he was not to die in that place, and when he opened his eyes again he saw that the old shaman was using the blade to clean the moss and dirt off the face of the ancient podium. The young Shiekah leaned closer, watching in wonder as the thick crust of lichen gave way to strange and archaic hieroglyphs.

"On the face of the pedestal was the image of a horn-billed bird, its lofty wings outstretched in prideful flight. It was an image he knew, although its placement and antiquity were bizarre to him. This was the symbol from which all Hylian crests are derivative, the primordial predecessor to the iconic winged and taloned Tri-Force of Hyrule. Kull's wide eyes turned on the old shaman, and the mute laid his hand upon the podium and then upon his own throat.

"Kull no longer needed explanations. Any Shiekah knew what magic lived in such forgotten relics. He laid his hand upon the podium, and in his throat he summoned the ancient and secret intonations of the sacred song of Hyrule, the gate key which is only borne by those whose aims align with the Goddesses and their will.

"At once, the podium erupted with that purifying blue light, and it shot like a beam of pure magic into the endless sky. An eagle-cry rose out of the West, and when Kull looked to those homeward skies he saw the wings of crimson angels descending from some heavenly loft. They dived towards him, and as they neared, he saw that they were not angels, but great birds the size of horses with horn bills and proud and ornate wings.

"The birds descended all around him, and formed a triangle with him at the center. He regarded the regal beasts with childlike wonder, and felt the warmth of their presence as they watched him with bright, intelligent eyes. One bent low, and offered Kull its wing. Dumbfounded, the boy looked to the Shaman, who silently gestured him onward. Kull mounted the mighty bird, and with a tremendous beat of its might wings it took to the open sky, its companions close on the wing.

"It was on the very last evening of the month which Kull had been allotted for his quest that the innumerable flock descended on the wayward gypsy camps of the homeless Shiekah, Kull astride a crimson bird which led the flight. In hurried and excited tones, he told Impa and her people of the sky-bound, ancient islands which time had forgotten, but hung eternally over Hyrule just beyond the scope of mortal eyes, and ever hidden by the wistful clouds. So the line of Ryll redeemed its blood, and on that eve the Shiekah made their exodus to Sacred Skyloft, ancient bastion of the Goddess Hylia herself, where our proud people have dwelt amongst the feathered guardians of old Hyrule ever since. Or so the legend goes."

That was old Zig's story, and it may have struck a very significant chord with young Link, had he not drifted off to sleep well before it had reached its end.