THE GREATER DESERT
Chapter 1: Determination in a Dry Country
Lightning cleaved a darkened sky - a sky that looked like frothy tar and was as dry as the low desert in early summer. The light illuminated the figure of an enormous man standing upon a high hill. Hints of red in his hair shone in the electric haze. His eyes glowed with amber light to match a smooth gem set into his forehead. He raised a fist upon which a triangle-pattern glowed golden. His laughter rose over the earthshaking thunderclap that chased the lightning.
The air smelled of ozone and blood.
Another figure stood apart from the man on the hill. The young man standing in the middle of it all saw the shadow of a regal woman with long, whipping hair behind him. She raised her hand. There was a golden triangle on it, too.
The young man was carrying, to his surprise, a sword. They were archaic weapons… only people "artistically inclined" actually used them anymore. They were seen in ceremonies. The boy saw that there was a shield upon his right arm. He blinked and it disappeared. His uncle's gun was in his hand, his finger curled around the trigger.
"Best use it on yourself, boy!" the dark man upon the hill laughed. "Ending the cycle would be doing a mercy to your kind!"
"Don't listen to him!" The woman behind him said. "The world must continue!"
The young man looked around himself. They were the only three people in this stormy world.
"How long must this cycle go on?" the dark man bellowed. "It shall be broken! Even if the world shall be plunged into oblivion, it shall be broken!"
"It shall never be broken!" the woman cried.
The young man was beginning to wonder if he had a say in this, but kept his silence.
"Even if the war is endless? You and I both know that this has gone on long enough!"
"It is never enough! The battle shall go on as long as this world exists!"
"What happens when it ends?"
"I don't know… but anything is better than this!"
"I thought so. Well, then, enjoy your crumbling world!"
"LINK!"
The young man awoke with a snort. He shot straight up in bed as furious pounding sounded upon his bedroom door.
"LINK! Time for chores! Pull your lazy bones outta bed! Shake a leg or say goodbye to your breakfast!"
"Coming, Uncle Russ!" Link shouted. He yawned deeply and looked out the bedroom window. There was a line of pink on the horizon.
"Not even dawn yet…" the teenager complained. Was his uncle getting everyone in the house up earlier and earlier or was it his imagination? He and his cousin, Malon, used to get the privilege of sleeping in on Dinsday, but that was abolished recently in light of some of the shortages on the farm and the need for extra work.
Wondering in an annoyed way why Uncle didn't just hire some new hands, Link flicked on a light switch, pulled a fresh shirt over his head and hitched up his britches. There was nothing like a trusty pair of well-worn blue jeans, though these were getting a bit too worn in his opinion. Link wondered about his dream as he clopped downstairs in his boots and sat down to his plated breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast with the edges swimming in the grease. He gave the eggs a few liberal dashes of hot pepper sauce and looked up at the ornamental case hanging above the seldom-used fireplace in the common room.
He'd been carrying one of the guns in the case in his dream – in one of several dreams that had been plaguing him recently with a common theme. There was always darkness, an ominous man and some woman he did not know but felt, in the dream, like he'd known forever. There'd been some dreams involving animals, too… wolves, rabbits… a wild boar… They didn't cause him distress until he'd woken up to think about them. Link was pretty good at sleeping through his nightmares.
"Stop starin' at 'em," Uncle Russ said as he sat down across from him at the dining table.
"You know I've grown out of that," Link said with a yawn.
"You ain't goin' back to bed, either, kiddo. Too much to do today."
"Faroreday is… kinda like Dinsday," Link tried. "Sometimes I wonder if work is all you think about, or all I'm ever going to do with my life."
"If ya wanna live here, then yes, it is gonna be all of your life. We're in charge of one of the last patches of green in Hyrule. 'Less we can get the tech runnin', Ordona's gonna get a whole lot busier."
"Then maybe you should train me," Link said, keeping his eye on the case holding two old Hyrule Royal Guard revolvers and a broadsword with ancient runes inscribed along the blood groove of the blade. "If people were to come around to raid us, you could protect us, but… you're the only one. If I took up my father's gun and his sword there… and you taught me to use them like you two did in the Guard…"
"Enough, Link," Russ said. "Ya' know we share with anyone in need and we ain't been the subject of any banditry way out here. The Royal Guard is in my past, and it was in your father's past. I promised t' raise you right – as a man of peace."
"Wouldn't Dad want me to follow in his footsteps?"
"His best wish," Russ sighed, "was t' return to his home here and farm. We were Royal Guards in peacetime, and gettin' a taste of that… he wanted to raise his family here, away from a military life. Guns are too simple iffin you ask me, anyway. Swordplay can be mighty fancy, but a sword can be used by a butcher, too."
"Gonna go get the eggs!" Malon cheerfully chimed from the kitchen, grabbing her basket. "I'll meet you for milking, Link."
"Another day, another rupee," Link yawned. "I've been feeling… just feeling really bored lately, Uncle Russ. I'm not sure why."
"Maybe I need to add more to your chore roster," Russ joked.
Link's eyes got wide. "I don't think I'm ready to be a ferrier yet!" he protested, "I only just started training with Fado…"
"Not that," Russ laughed, clapping his nephew's shoulder. "I actually do have a special job ya' can do for me… it should be in and ready by tomorrow… I need to ride t' the post office in Nabooru to get a part I ordered up for the air-moisture reclaimator. The belts are nearly busted on it and it's gotten rusted. I'd rather not make the ride m'self when I have work to do here on the machines and the house. If you can go in my stead… I think a trip into town is just what you need."
"Yeah… I'll do it," Link said, "Although it's just Nabooru… Not much of an adventure."
"Yer girlfriends 'ill be glad to see ya."
Link cringed. "Don't bring them up."
Russ laughed and clapped the boy on the back. "Get yer hat on and see to the goats."
Link pushed his hat down onto his head as he stepped outside the farmhouse and breathed deeply of the morning air. The sun had risen and the wild desert birds were chirping and arguing amongst themselves. Link adjusted the hat – a wide-brimmed model that kept the sun out of his eyes. It was unusual in that it was dark green. It matched most of his shirts. Link had an affinity for the color green for reasons he did not know why… perhaps it was because it was becoming such a rare color in the land lately.
He looked out over the Ordona Valley. Homes were scattered among the hills – mostly two-story – with cracked wood and flaking white and gray paint. The slate-blue-trimmed shutters over his own second-story bedroom window looked like the next stiff wind could blow them off. The hills themselves were dry and dotted with yellowed grasses and scrawny little scrub-bushes. Beyond were mountains of lavender and blue – the kind of colors that indicated sparse vegetation, with only sand and clay to cover the underlying rock. The valley, itself, greened as it curved inward, being a place where rain and small streams gathered.
There were farm fields and an orchard, not so much kissed by the sun as oppressed beneath it, but going strong with diligent human care. Closest to Link's home were barns and animal pens. While other families that lived in the valley took care of various trees and planting beds, Link's family was in charge of most of the livestock. The people of Ordona lived as a community. For most, the land was their birthright, something that had been with their families for generations. It was, as Link's uncle had gone on about, one of the last patches of green left in Hyrule – so they did well to nurture it.
As Link walked to the goat pen, he remembered how the green used to extend further out and cover more of the hills when he was a child. The land was still changing. He'd grown up with stories about Hyrule as it used to be from the older members of the village – such as Lady Gwen, who kept the orange orchard. Her family had no stake in the land, but she had become a fixture, having moved the valley about twenty years before Link was born. She'd retired from being a priestess of Nayru at one of the ancient shrines. She claimed that the reason why her orchard grew so well was that she had learned many secrets of science at her old shrine.
Gwen had captivated young Link and Malon – and continued to captivate the children of the valley today – with tales of forests and oceans and other things that did not exist anymore out in Greater Hyrule. She also spoke of magic and fairies – and these tales were much more difficult for Link to believe. In fact, he didn't believe them. He could travel anywhere in Hyrule (through the family barely went anywhere past the Nabooru Town) and see the dry remains of forests. There was a petrified forest Uncle Russ, Malon and he had taken a trip to some years ago that lay outside of Darunia. He only had to go to Nabooru to see the salty, sandy remains of an ocean because the Port of Sand lay there. Evidence for the old ways of the land lay everywhere, but magic was something he saw no evidence for.
As it was, he sometimes felt silly breathing frustrated prayers to Farore as he did sometimes when drought was about to make the crops fail or when he was assisting a pregnant animal in a difficult birth. It was strange, really, Link thought, how he had his own doubts about the Goddesses, yet whenever he met anyone in town who claimed that those that that still believed in them were stupid or hopeless, he'd be on them like a starving wolf. He did no violence beyond the verbal – but no one insulted his family, his friends or his "Granny" Gwen - no one.
He sat down on a stool in the milking barn before a large pail and a large blue goat that Malon was holding by the halter. Her basket rested by the doorway, laden with fat green and brown eggs. Malon's right forearm was streaked with three neat scratches, blood pooling at their edges. As Link warmed up his hands and prepared to milk he looked up at his cousin.
"What happened?" he practically yelped. "You should take care of that!"
"I wiped it off," Malon said. "It stopped bleeding. I'll be okay. One of the hens wasn't ready to give up her child."
"Cuccoos," Link groused. "Why is it that we even started raising them for food, anyway? I mean, whoever though it was a good idea to domesticate the little monsters must have been very brave or very stupid."
"At least she didn't cry out for help," Malon replied, scratching the goat between its joined horns.
"I still have scars from that one time when I was little…" Link grumbled, trying to concentrate on his work. "At least the goats are peaceful-natured."
"It was your own fault for hitting the rooster with a stick," Malon reminded him. "And you're exaggerating. You've surely grown out of your scars by now."
"There's a faint one on my back that I can see in the mirror sometimes when my shirt is off and my pants are down. I can show you to prove it."
"No thanks."
"That rooster made the best chicken dinner ever," Link said with a wicked smile. "Point out the hen that hurt you and we'll have chicken n' dumplings tonight."
"Nah," Malon said. "Let's just get our milk to trade with the neighbors for today. After all, we have to get the horses out to their paddocks and clean the stables."
"Your dad wants me to go into Nabooru tomorrow and get a package for him."
"Is that so? We'll have to make sure Rhia's extra well-rested and fed then."
"Too bad the jeep's out of commission, it would be quicker. Still, it'll be nice to ride with a purpose in mind instead of just wandering the hills. It's been a while since either of us has been in town. I hope Rhiannon won't be too spooked by the people and activity."
"She shouldn't be. She's always been good, brave mare."
Link continued his milking thinking about all he'd need to do to prepare for tomorrow – how much water to bring to keep both his horse and him well, how big a saddlebag to bring and other such things. Rhiannon, unlike most of the other horses in the Ordona Valley would never be sold to a merchant or given to the government for use by the military or the postal stagecoaches because she was Link's personal animal. She was about in the prime of life for horses, having been born when he was about twelve. He was almost eighteen now. He'd raised her – everything from helping her wean off her mother to training. He'd been at a loss for names at first – narrowing it down to either "Epona" or "Rhiannon" after reading some myths about horse-goddesses.
He'd read myths about a line of great heroes and their companions and modes of conveyance, as well. He'd read that some of the great Hylian Heroes had horses that were red with white manes and tails. Rhiannon had a cream-colored body and a red mane and tail. Link had also read that the last known steed of a Hero had been named "Epona." That was all the more reason to be different, to give his horse a name from a lesser known mythology.
"Good girl," Link said, patting the goat on the side and taking his bucket to be strained and chilled inside the house.
They named the horses here, but not the goats, the cows or the cuccoos. Rhiannon could rest easy knowing that just as she would never be sold away from her beloved master, she would never be eaten, either. No one in the valley named what they ate.
Link packed up to ride in the early glimmer of the dawn. He watched a freetail keese dance in the air, snatching up the insects that only came out in the cool hours. He kept a steady pace riding out of the valley and into the desert beyond. Hills flattened out into a dry plain and he worried about Rhiannon's condition. He was always worried about his horse. They were creatures more delicate than most people inexperienced with them took them for. Rhia was a hardy Hylian Mustang, but thirst was a greater issue for her than even for a human. If Link got a bellyache, he could take an antacid and rest – if Rhia got the same thing, it could kill her.
And, of course, there was the possibility here of her being lamed by a monster. Malevolent creatures had been showing up in the desert of late. They rarely came into the green valley of Ordona, but Link had found a chu-chu slithering around the ranch every once in a while. They could be taken care of with a sturdy stick or shovel, or even a quick stomping with a boot if they were small enough and one felt brave enough to risk getting their caustic slime on one's leg. The families of the valley ate roasted leever whenever they could catch the creatures – a local delicacy despite the animate plants being classed as a "monster" species in the old books. Creatures in the hills had been growing bolder, more numerous and, it would seem, angrier. Old Lady Gwen said that it was a "sign of the times" – an omen that trouble would soon engulf the land. She said that if it got really bad, it might be a signal of the end of Time. Link chided her on the idea of Heroes to which she'd chillingly replied that she didn't know if the ancient Hero's Spirit from the myths she believed in even existed in the land anymore.
"Dried up like the sea," she'd said, "Rusted and vanished into the sand like most of the rail lines. I'm pretty sure that the Hero for our age died some time ago before even knowing his destiny…"
"Dried up and rusted away," Link said, looking out upon the hills and barren mountains. No one really knew what was causing the climate change in Hyrule. Royal scientists were hard at work on it. It was said that desertification happened sometimes, with changing weather patterns, even with human and technological involvement. It was known that the province of Lanayru had gone through cycles of green and wet and desert conditions. That which was cyclical for one region seemed to be affecting every region over the last century with the worst of it occurring over the last decade.
Many people said that the problem was an imbalance in the Triforce. That is, those that still believed in ancient artifacts that granted wishes. Most took the symbol upon their clothing or upon the doors of their houses as a purely symbolic gesture – the idea of Power, Wisdom and Courage in balance. Link believed in all of those things, which is why he wore a Triforce pin in his hat or on a coat sometimes. It was an actual object left behind by aloof gods that he had trouble believing in as much as he did the old Heroic Line or sorcerer-kings who were more than merely mortal tyrants.
Link gasped as he saw a figure crouched by broken rocks before a small rise on the well-worn trail. He immediately rode up to the cloaked person and slid off his mare. He gently placed his hand on the stranger's shoulder and nudged, fearing that he'd just found a corpse. "Are you alright?" he asked.
He jumped back when the "corpse" twitched and lifted its head. The face he saw looked fairly corpse-like in its own right. It was a woman's face more wrinkled than Lady Gwen's. A broad smile appeared in the wrinkles and bright blue eyes slid open. "Why, praise the spirits!" she said, "You've arrived just in time."
"Huh? Just in time? What?" Link asked, bewildered. "Do you need any water?" He asked, "Or any food? You must have walked a long way to get out here to the middle of nowhere. Are you lost?"
Link knew that the elderly sometimes had a habit of wandering – those that were losing their minds as their bodies were decaying with age. He took his canteen off his saddle and offered it out to her. "I also have some beef jerky and some bread and cheese," he said.
The woman took the canteen and gave it a tiny, whispery sip. "You are very kind," she said, handing it back, "Of course that would be the case, since you are you. Generations of blood and warfare against the darkness do certainly scar your soul, but never so much as to make you unkind. You are wise, too, helping an old person."
Now Link was sure that this poor woman was brain-addled. "Come on. There's room on my horse for two. I'll take you home. You're probably from Nabooru, right? It's the closest town to here."
"Naaaaboooru," the woman purred, "A proud warrior… So fun and full of life she was…"
"The town," Link said, "Nabooru is a town."
"Oh, yes, a town!" the woman said, finally seeming to get it. "You do know it was named after a great warrior, don't you, child?"
"Yeah, some… ancient legend about a Gerudo who helped the Hero of Time. It's just a legend, though."
"Ah!" The woman said, holding up a bony hand, "I think you'll find that 'just legends' have more truth to them than you think. When you grow as old as I am, you begin to realize things like that."
"How old are you, pray tell?"
"How rude!" the woman shot back, shifting in her seat. "You are never supposed to ask a woman her age. Didn't your family teach you any manners at all? I lost count at around seven-hundred."
Link laughed. "Come on, Ms.-?"
"Sar-Sarah… Sarah Willow," the woman replied. "And not yet. Sit a spell with me. I would like to play a song for you. Think of it as a gift for bothering to stop to help me, or just for being so handsome."
"Alright," Link said, smiling at her as he sat down, cross-legged before her. The woman pulled a little round cream-colored ceramic flute from her robes.
"An ocarina, right?" Link asked.
"Oh, ho ho! You know what this is. Not too many people do. It seems to be a rare instrument. The royal family once had one made of chronolite. It could control Time. That one was lost long ago."
"Chronolite..?"
"Time-shifting stone," the woman answered. "Now, listen. You'll like this."
The woman played a jaunty little song. Link felt as if he were being taken away. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, he gaped, finding himself surrounded by trees with lush green leaves. Grass and fallen leaf-detritus lay all around him. The cloaked woman kept her head down, but the shock of hair protruding from her cloak had transformed from a dull gray to a bright green.
A large picnic blanket was spread out between them. It was laden with plates of many kinds of foods. There were slimy chunks of roasted leever with charred skins, buttered corn, cheese rolls, a roasted pig's head with an apple in its mouth and a basket of strange, red-shelled creatures that Link had never seen before.
Sarah lifted her head and Link saw the face of a young girl with bright eyes. A white light flittered around her. "Go on, eat!" she encouraged.
"I'm laid out in the sand dying of heat stroke, aren't I?"
Sarah cocked her head. "Well, if you are dying, you might as well make the most of your last dream," she said, "but you're not dying. I am very old woman. We have strange powers. I wanted to give you something nice before the journey ahead."
Link prodded at one of the red animals. He picked it up and snapped off one of its legs. "You eat this?"
"Yep."
He placed the leg into his mouth and chewed. The salty sensation that flowed over his tongue from the juice tasted nice, but the darn thing was just too chewy. He struggled with it, trying to figure it out.
"You have to break open the shell first," Sarah laughed. "Snap it open and then put the meat inside into your mouth. You may want to dip it in butter first. It's really good that way."
Link obeyed. "What is this thing? I've never seen food like this before."
"It's a crab," Sarah answered. "You haven't seen one because they don't grow in the desert. They're from the sea."
"The sea doesn't exist anymore," Link said, snapping crab legs and devouring them with gusto.
"It will again, Hero of Tides."
"What? What did you just call me?"
"The tides of change are coming, and the tides shall return," Sarah said, draping her cloak back over herself.
In an instant, the trees and the picnic were gone. So was the old woman. A gray cloak caught on the branch of a bush fluttered in the wind. Link got up from his seated position, befuddled. He scratched his head and took a generous swig from his canteen before mounting Rhiannon to continue his journey.
"A mirage?" he asked himself as he rode on. He could still taste salt in his mouth.
The sun was beginning to set as Link rode into Nabooru Town. He knew he'd have to find a hotel unless he wanted to make Rhiannon work all night. First, after heading to the post office to get his uncle's package, he decided he'd head to the local bar.
He strode through the swinging double-doors of the Golden Coyote and immediately cringed when he heard the collective gasp of voices he recognized. Cassie was wearing her usual bright red dress – she was one of the performance-dancers here, but she was sitting at the bar nursing some kind of fruit-based drink. Currently, the Birdcage affixed in the middle of the saloon held a wildly gyrating woman with magenta hair and too much makeup. She seemed to be clothed in only vines and leaves – fake leaves. Link did not recognize her – she must be new. Peatrice sighed at the end of the bar. Maku jumped, clapped her hands and ran up to Link, taking him by the hands.
"Oh, Link! You haven't visited us in forever! You've left us all lonely, you cad! Dance with me!"
Link shook his hands out from hers. "I don't much feel like dancing, Maku," he said, trying to excuse himself. "I'm here on business."
"You're always here on business," Maku pouted. "It must be hard being a farm boy, work, work, work, all the time… no time for a handsome fella like you to go dancin'."
"I need a freaking drink," Link sighed. He sat down on a stool and smiled upon seeing the face of old Telmas.
"Milk or tea, kid?" Telmas boomed. The large man wiped out a glass. He was awfully tan for a man who didn't get out of a darkened, smoky bar much.
"Ambrosia Pale," Link replied – knowing one of the popular local beers, "That or a shot of Goron stone-whiskey."
"Still too young," Telmas groused.
"Aw, Telmas…" Link pleaded, "You don't bother with age restrictions for anyone around here… no one but me."
"That's 'cause nobody's uncle's an ex-Guardsman," Telmas replied. "Yer uncle'd have m' hide tanned and hangin' on his shed if he found out I drunkene'd ya up, 'specially iffin yer doin' a job fer 'im."
"Chateau Romani, then?"
"Nothin' doin'. Ya take me for an idgit? It may be milk, but that stuff'll get ya higher 'n whiskey. Higher 'n a kite!"
"Hey, I had to try," Link said with a Cheshire grin. "How about a coffee… two creams, two sugars."
"Atta boy."
"Life really is unfair, isn't it?" moaned the girl at the end of the bar.
"Aw, Pea… what's the matter?" Link asked, being gentle with the girl, but trying not to seem like he was flirting. Peatrice was one of several young women in this town that seemed starved for male attention and had, to his annoyance, sought it from him whenever he came into town. He only came in every month or two, yet the atmosphere was always the same. Nabooru was a boring desert town where nothing much happened. The most exciting of days was when the train pulled in with trade goods and maybe – maybe – a few passengers coming to tour the edge of the sand sea.
Link, as a "boy from way out in the valley over yonder" who only occasionally graced their settlement served to have enough mystery about him to be more intriguing than other boys. He was quite handsome and strong, and most of all, the girls here seemed to be fascinated by his long ears. Not very many people had the "old Hylian ears" anymore. It was a trait that was dying out – possibly a recessive one, but scientists weren't really sure what was going on. Those that believed in magic claimed it was because the magic was drying up from the land at the same rate the waters were. Hylians of the ancient family lines supposedly had the long ears as a sign of magic in their blood and to enable them to "hear the voices of the goddesses" - the longer the ears, the better.
"Parrow broke up with me," Peatrice sighed. She swirled a stir-stick around in her drink lazily. "Why is it so hard to find a good man in this town? Nabooru is soooo boring. I can't pack up and leave for new horizons because of Daddy's business. I'd like just once to catch the attention of someone strong… handsome… honorable…"
Link cringed a little, knowing where this was going. It wasn't that Peatrice was ugly – a little plain, perhaps, but she was so… fangirlish… for lack of a better term. All of the Nabooru Town girls close to his age were clingy, or otherwise not his type. He took a glance over at the Pit – the Golden Coyote's entertainment area and saw, through the thick tobacco smoke, the woman dancing in the giant bird-cage to the strains of the band. She struck him as a little too old for the work. He shivered when he caught sight of her overly-made-up face. Now that was hog-ugly. The other men in the bar – older guys – all seemed to enjoy it, though. Old Fado in the band was really working his fiddle.
Fado – that was a common name. Link personally knew two men by the name so far – Fado the blacksmith of Ordona and Fado the fiddler. Of course, it wasn't like his own name was that uncommon, either. Link was actually a Link Jr; named for his late father. The two Fados couldn't be any more different – the man on the ranch being a large, imposing figure while the musician was rather small and almost childlike in his build.
"Greta the Great, everybody!" Fado announced as the woman stopped dancing and bowed. The men clapped their hands and hooted. Peatrice rolled her eyes.
Link said his goodbyes and wandered out into the streets. He eyed the dingy little buildings. Despite there only being one watering hole in town, there were two hotels – not that it was easy to tell them apart from all of the other houses and businesses of Nabooru clad in whitewashed adobe walls and red terra cotta tiled roofs. The stable was one of the few wooden buildings around and that wood was cracked and dry, with layers from several applications of paint (all in different colors) flaking off the outer walls. Just as Link was about to un-hitch Rhiannon and lead her to Nabooru Stables and pay for a night's stay, his attention was caught by a scream.
A female scream sounded what seemed a few buildings away. Link left his horse at the bar's watering trough and sprinted through the streets. He skidded to a stop at the head of an alley with a dead-end. He felt a strange itch suddenly rise up in his left hand. There was a girl with short black hair at the end of the alley, cornered by three hefty and armed men.
"H-help me!" The woman cried out.
The man closest to him wheeled around. Link found himself staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.
