Notes: Good news, everyone! Lilith and I finally got into contact again. As it turns out, she has been very busy taking care of an ailing family member. I've had this sitting on my hard drive for over a month, now it can finally be posted.
That said, this story-remake may go very, very slowly, in between Lilith having a life and me needing to re-calibrate my brain to the story. I have been working and have started other projects, both fan fiction and original, so coming back to this will take some wading into again. _ Shadsie
THE GREATER DESERT
Chapter 2: The Destiny of a Princess
Light shone in through high, arched windows. The interior of the building was painted in a lemon-sugar warmth that smelled of dust, old paper and worn leather. Young Princess Zelda of the nation of Hyrule found this place to be as holy as any temple. She spent as much time in the castle library as she possibly could. Books had proven to be better friends to her than most people could be. When one was born into a position of power, one could never be sure of true friends (even if one was merely the youngest of four royal children).
The children of statesmen would come and go and the children of soldiers always feared losing their parents' jobs if they ever become close enough to be too honest or to fight over toys. Zelda mostly had just her sisters and her books and, as she grew, characters in fiction and the voices of long-dead scholars and sages became her more-consistent companions.
Even as Hyrule was experimenting with a kind of partial democracy, Zelda still lived a life of constraint. If anything, her young adulthood had become even more frustrating than her childhood had been. Her eldest sister had just come of the correct age to take the kingdom over – things had been run by the Council of Elders and a High Chancellor since their father's murder, with opinions of each of the princesses considered. Zelda had been playing politics to some degree all of her life, though not to the degree that her older sisters participated in the processes of law. Princess Cecelia had gone through the training and ceremonies needed to be crowned Queen, though she preferred the term "Empress." This was going to happen next week. The new Empress would be sharing power with a "people's representative" that had been elected last year in Hyrule's first national election.
Zelda did not trust President Dragmire one bit. She did not know why. His name felt strangely familiar to her… and menacing. It was his eyes that truly unnerved her. Zelda felt that he had very wicked eyes. The few times they had met, it seemed that the man had not been able to keep his eyes off her. It was as if he thought of her as prey. Zelda even wondered if a confrontation between the greedy-eyed man and her trusted night-guardsman was inevitable. She'd been studying some of the ancient Sheikah arts of self-defense, but knew that lightness and agility did not always win against the brute force of brawny beasts.
The young princess knew that the president was of the Gerudo people and told herself to have no fear of one kind of assault as he surely had a harem to satisfy his appetites. What Zelda really feared from those eyes of his was not a look of lust, but a look of murder. Dragmire's face was that of a man who loved war.
The entire palace grounds had been feeling unsafe to her of late. Cecelia had full claim to the throne as per tradition, but also per tradition, she was expected to take opinions from her siblings and the Council. Zelda knew that Cecelia was not one to share her toys. The youngest princess had been closer to Kara and Anya during their upbringing while Cecelia had remained fairly distant. There was an age-gap, but also abuse. Cecelia liked to bully. It didn't matter who – her younger sisters, the children of guards, guards and servants themselves, everyone knew her temper. The more power the Council gave her, the more punishments she seemed to dole out upon more of the staff. Most of the lashes given were doled out by tongue, but Zelda felt sorrow for those that were sent out the castle doors – for finding a new livelihood in the increasingly hard land was difficult and many of the palace workers had served because of long family lines of service.
Her Impa had been a profound loss and Zelda had been powerless to stop it. Her sister had decided that she needed to "grow up" and not have such a personal caretaker.
Cecelia had claimed that she was supposed to be named "Zelda." Zelda was not sure why their parents had not gone with the royal tradition in the naming of the firstborn female. There was a rumor that the High Priest of the Temple of Time had "sensed darkness" in her sister the day of her naming-ceremony three days after she was born and had forbidden her the traditional, sacred name. Their parents had said something else – something about "new traditions for a new land." In the end, they'd caved to tradition, in part, by naming their youngest "Zelda."
Zelda passed by a mirror as she walked down the main hall of the library. The frilly white dress she was in made her look like a doll. She hated it. She'd had to wear it for a television appearance with her sisters – starring the soon to be Empress and the President. Televisual communications were one of the newer technologies Hyrule had developed. Zelda wondered, with horror, if the new medium was set to replace books the same way automobiles were beginning to replace trains in some districts and the gun had replaced the sword. Of these, only guns were widespread as yet. Trains were still the only way to get to some parts of the kingdom besides a hard horse-ride or carriage overland, and broadcast signals only reached so far. New weapons seemed to be the first things to colonize any frontier.
The hair in the mirror-image was black. The majority of Zelda's ancestors had been blondes, with a few redheads here and there. The people called her the Raven-Princess because of her long, straight black hair. From commoners, the nickname was a compliment, from Cecelia, resplendent in her platinum locks, it was always an insult.
Zelda rubbed at the bruise on her arm. Her eldest sister had pinched her hard for figiting. Zelda did remember good times with her – riding horses and playing with the family tea-sets. She wished she could go back to times like those, before either being ignored or shown her place had become the default setting of their relationship.
"Hey, princess!" the librarian called from the reference desk.
"Hello, Lilian!" Zelda replied, smiling. "You don't have to be so formal."
"Ah, sure I do," Lilian mildly protested. "I do have my place, after all, and it would be rude not to address you properly. Are you looking for anything special today?"
"Not really, maybe something on history… on the ancient treaties with neighboring nations and dimensional rift-worlds. Did Termina ever have presidents? I know I haven't been able to find much on that world on my own… and the language barrier…"
"I've got just the thing. I've actually been thinking of the right time to present it to you. I do think you're ready. You've already decoded Great Sea-Era Hylian, but this…. This is very special."
Lilian ducked behind the counter and with a huff and a grunt, she slammed a thick tome upon the top of the desk in a flurry of dust. Zelda coughed and choked. The pages of the book were not so much yellowed as brown, even slightly charred in places. The cover of the book was ornate – green leather with a beautiful Triforce and framing in worn gold. Zelda noticed that Lilian had donned her white gloves when she ever so carefully opened the cover.
"This is the Book of Mudora," the librarian said with a broad smile. "The oldest existing copy, too. It's been added to in recent years, with notes stuck into it and it always had blank pages – designed for scholars to keep adding to it as they uncovered our history."
Zelda's eyes were wide. "Isn't this… isn't it a holy book? Shouldn't it be in the Temple of Time under the care of the priests?"
Lilian laughed softly. "Oh, everyone thinks that these days! No, no… those of us who've been given permission to study it know that it is simply a translation-convention. It's a code of all of the written languages that have ever been used within Hyrule – and some of the languages of neighboring kingdoms that have come and gone. Let me show you…"
Lilian carefully turned to a page in the book's center. "Right here is a language called the 'Sky Writing' – next to it is a translation into Twilight War-Era Hylian… that was done in that time period by a father and son team. We only know the name of the son, a 'Professor Shad," but, sadly, his father's name was lost to time. She turned another page, toward the back of the book. "And here… is Twilight War-Era Hylian translated into current Hylian. Translations are rough, but you get the idea… this one even has pronunciations sounded out in the margins. This was translated by Sir Horwell, who is still living out his retirement in Saria Town, so I heard. He believed in magic spells and that one might need to know the proper pronunciations to enact them should one find a sealed monument. What one might call a quaint superstition helped in the gathering of knowledge… I doubt he would have been so diligent in his work without the belief."
Zelda was at a loss for words. She just kept staring, pondering the letters – both the strange and the familiar, but especially the strange – carefully.
"Our language has changed much with the centuries, has it not?" Lilian observed. "I rather like Middle Kingdom Hylian, myself. It's quite elegant, especially sung – provided we have the proper pronunciation-convention handed down to us. That was the era that's rumored…"
"The Triforce-Split Era," Zelda interrupted. "The Era of the Hero of Time."
"Well, we do not know if the legends have any truth to them, of course. There is some evidence for the existence of the Hero of Time, but people are always debating it."
"You're letting me use this?"
"I trust you to take great care with it," Lilian said, "You're old enough now. Just between you and me, I haven't let your sisters touch it. I doubt Cecelia even knows it exists. She wouldn't know how to use it, anyway. It is not a book for gaining power; it is a book for gaining knowledge. You may use it with any of the books in the library. You already know where the most ancient books are kept in the back. Who knows? You may discover new forgotten languages. If anyone is able to figure out the one lost one in here, I think it may be you."
"A known lost language?"
Lilian turned a page. "Here. We don't know whether to call it 'Pre-Sky Writing,' or 'Deep Sky Language' or just 'The Language of the Gods.' It's so old and cryptic, not even old Shad could figure it out."
"I can try."
With that, Zelda happily closed the Book of Mudora and took it to the back of the library to study some of the ancient books she'd been dying to read if she's only known how. She knew that this was a special gift, for Lilian was the kind that might just rescue books over people in the event of a library-fire. Anything she'd been keeping from her soon-to-be-Empress had to be extra-special.
Zelda wondered what had clenched Lilian's favor in this. Was it her interest and eager devouring of such geeky titles as "Ferrus' Guide to the Spirit Tracks of New Hyrule?" Had it been her interest in the notoriously error-riddled but still historically valuable "Hyrule Historia?" Was it that she had longed to read "Sir Shad's Account of the Exploits of the Hero of Twilight?" or even more obscure things like knights' journals of the Great Sealing War?
Zelda felt a profound itch in the back of her right hand. She scratched it through her glove as she browsed books. Something titled "The Fairies' Medical Handbook" caught her eye.
Zelda's dreams kept her awake again in the night. She had been having many nightmares of late. So many of them seemed to be clearer than usual, more narrative. Her dreams usually had a narrative structure, but at some point, something weird would happen – random cats out of nowhere, telepathic steaks… nothing as clear and true and like real life as the dreams she'd been having over the last month or so. She'd typically find herself at some point in the past. There was always a young man there, dressed in green clothing and a dark figure in the shadows with evil eyes.
She awakened drenched in sweat. The young man had been shouting at her – ordering her to run. "Get out of here! Now!" he'd screamed, standing between her and the dark figure, raising a sword. "He's going to kill you if you don't get out of here now!"
She'd gotten out of the dream, but she couldn't help but feel like she had to run – in reality – that there was a present danger to her in the waking world. Her heart beat like the steady rattle of a steam-train or like a frightened bird beating itself bloody against the bars of a cage.
Zelda pulled on a pair of pants and a simple tunic and walked out of her bedroom to the garden. She thought that talking to Pipit might help. Pipit was the night-patrol guardsman posted to the garden and to the exterior of her chambers. He was a young guard – only about a year older than she was and had been married last month. His wife was the area's daytime guard. This was a recent schedule switch that Cecelia had made. Zelda suspected it had less to do with staffing issues than it did in keeping a young couple from spending much waking-time off hours with one another and being happy. Maybe she thought too ill of her sister, Zelda supposed, but it did seem that her bad moods coincided with a desire to ruin the moods of others and she'd not had a suitor to her liking in quite a while.
"Hey, Zel," Pipit yawned. He was far less formal to Zelda than her librarian. "What's up?"
Zelda drew her light coat around her and gave Pipit a sad-eyed smile.
"Nightmares again? Come on… let's sit on the row and look at the stars."
This always made Zelda happy. It was difficult for Pipit to sit down in his full armor, but when he did, he relaxed visibly. Hours of being on one's feet was tough. She was the only person Pipit was charged with guarding, so he relished the chance to sit.
The guardsman pointed skyward. "The Goddess Wings are out tonight… nice and clear. They're close, too…" He traced a constellation that looked vaguely like a pair of wings when one connected the stars. A flag flapped on a castle turret nearby. The feathers on the Hylian flag were gleaned from the same symbol people saw in the constellation.
"I read a book today about the mythical birds the feathers on the flag are based on," Zelda said. "There were the most gorgeous illustrations. One of the birds was bright red, traced in gold. I hope I did not damage the illuminated manuscript. Works that old and that beautiful are very rare."
"I used to have dreams of riding on one of those birds," Pipit said. "At least I did when I was a kid. They were always so clear, too… almost like visions of a past life."
"I sometimes have dreams about the Hylian Patron Goddess," Zelda sighed. "They're nice dreams, but just dreams."
"The priests say she's the only Goddess who ever died," Pipit mused.
"I think she might have existed," Zelda said, "long, long ago. There has to be some source for the residual magic we royals still use… even if it's gleaned from the bones of an extinct goddess."
Zelda formed a tiny ball of light in her hands and then dispelled it. "Most of the magic is gone from the land, then again, I don't know if one is wise in believing what the old books have to say about the great and abundant magic of old. Miracles are supposed to be miracles because they are rare by definition, are they not?"
"I suppose so," Pipit said. "Do you want to tell me about your dream?" he asked brightly. "It might help to get it off your chest. You looked scared."
"I still am… a little," Zelda confessed with a tiny shiver. "I had a companion in the dream… a young man…"
"Is the little princess in love?" Pipit teased. "The love had better be worthy of you and your royal station."
"Not that!" Zelda laughed. She got serious again, "He told me that I had to flee, to run – that my life was in danger. It felt real. I still… I still feel it. Isn't that silly, Sir Pipit?"
Pipit had gone stiff. His blue eyes were like pinpoints. "Zelda… I…"
"Huh?"
Pipit slumped his shoulders and looked down, refusing to meet her gaze. "I was given orders, Zelda. My superiors… they… I'm sure they come from the top, but I cannot follow these orders."
"What, Pipit?"
She saw tears streak down his cheeks. This was something she'd never seen in her guardsman. It unnerved her greatly.
"My lady," he said, eyes closed tightly, "I was told… 'Within the month. Make it look like an accident, a suicide or a failed attempt to thwart a common criminal. Your life and the lives of your family will be guaranteed as well as your position…"
Zelda's blood ran cold. "Are you saying..?"
Pipit suddenly hugged her tightly. "There is a plan," he said, regaining some of his composure, "There is a plan to make you look like a usurper or insane. I don't know why anyone would want to hurt you, but…"
"You have orders to kill me," Zelda finished for him, separating him and looking him straight in the eyes. "Don't turn away. Look at me, Pipit. I know you wont' do it," she said. "I have trusted you with my life too long to think that you would ever harm me."
To the young man's surprise, Zelda smiled serenely. "I bet you've already come up with an alternate plan."
Pipit wiped his eyes and exchanged them for a huge grin. "Oh, to think you know me so well!" He made a whistle into the air, a sound like some kind of night-hawk. A young woman vaulted over the garden wall – Karane, Zelda's daytime guard.
"Come with us, my princess," she said chipperly, "We're taking you on a little trip to our house to play makeover."
Zelda sat in a chair in what passed for the living room of a humble Castletown city street-level apartment. Karane was busily clipping off locks of Zelda's hair. Zelda found it to be more like butchery, but kept her silence.
"After this, well, I hope my clothes will fit you. You can have anything in the closet except the uniforms and the wedding dress. Pick something plain, okay?" Karane instructed. "The goal is not to stand out."
Pipit stood by a shaded window, peeking out of the curtains every once in a while to keep watch. "We get you dulled down, looking like one of us peasants," he said, "Then we get you on the train. Nabooru is way out there, your best bet for hiding out until things become advantageous for you."
"What is the meaning of this, exactly?" Zelda asked.
"Saving your life, of course," Pipit said, "Or have you gone dense?"
"No, I mean… I hide out, and then what? Is it just to keep me alive to live out the rest of my days in obscurity, or do you plan to make me the center of a revolution?"
"Well, you are of royal blood," Karane said with another clip, this time taking one of Zelda's precious over-the-ear hair-tails. "And you are the proper Princess Zelda. I suspect that history will unfold before you. You'll know what to do at the right time. I do not think that much good will come to Hyrule under your older sister's rule, I'm afraid."
"It feels like dark times are settling in," Pipit added.
"Power struggles among royals are nothing new to history," Zelda said. "I'd just hoped that my family would have become more civilized after the unfortunate events that had already befallen us."
"The world hasn't been right since your mother vanished and your father was assassinated," Pipit sighed. "This was a wave just waiting to break."
"Thank you… thank you so much for what you are doing for me," Zelda said.
"Maybe you'll find a Hero somewhere out there…" Pipit said, "Like in the old legends."
"I don't know about that, but it does feel like the Forces are off-balance," Zelda replied. "In fact, I've felt that way all my life."
Karane passed a small item into Zelda's hand. "It's my train passport," she said. "One way to anywhere in the kingdom. It's a blank ticket."
She resumed her stylist work.
"I had one, too," Pipit said. "I gave it to my mother and sent her on a train to Ruto Village. I wanted her to stay out of things here just in case things got heavy."
He looked out the window again.
Karane started sniffling and then outright crying. "The passports…we… we got them for our honeymoon… we were going to use our leave-time to go… somewhere nice…together…"
"We thought that this was a better use of them," Pipit explained.
"I will find a way to make this up to you," Zelda promised.
Karane let out a sob. Pipit hugged her close and rubbed her back.
It wasn't until the pair had successfully navigated her off the palace grounds and to the Castletown train station with a suitcase bearing some essentials and a few sets of Karane's clothes that the true gravity of the situation hit Zelda.
As she boarded the train and watched the lighted Castletown Station from a window, she looked at the two of them standing together, smiling and waving her off. It was then that she realized that they were both traitors to the Crown now, and worse, they both knew it. They would surely be executed – if not by formal hanging than by some clandestine means. Pipit and Karane were not only giving up their honeymoon for her – they were giving up their lives and they both were well-aware of this fact.
It took every ounce of the former princess of Hyrule's willpower not to scream. Instead, she slumped in her seat and asked with a choke to be seen to her cabin under Karane's name. She flopped onto the bed in inconsolable sobs.
Dawn shone through the windows of Zelda's sleeping cabin. She was glad for the privacy of the berth – a fancy affair designed for a single occupant, or given the size of the bed, two. In fact, it was the kind of cabin she would have been put up in as a royal. "Pipit and Karane must have saved up forever for this," she whispered to herself as she lifted herself from her wet pillow. Another stab in the heart…
She saw something very strange outside and couldn't help but watch it. There was a horse running alongside the train. Even stranger, it was an armored horse. A few of the castle guards would dress up their horses, but it was mostly for show, for parades. This horse was riderless and galloping over the civilization-devoid desert. The horse seemed to move faster and faster, as if it were challenging the train! Pieces of armor flew off it as it ran.
Zelda could not believe what she was seeing. Beneath the last of the armor (the helm was the final piece to come off), the horse looked ghostly. It was a white mare of the New Hylian breed and it looked semi-transparent. Zelda could see the distant mountains behind its body. She blinked and shook her head; sure she was still dreaming, groggy from her night of impotent despair. The phantom-horse was gone.
She turned around, her gaze shifting from the window to the center of her room. There was a person inside her cabin. She jumped and fell back into her bed. "Who, wha? What are you doing in my private berth?" she demanded.
The petite woman smiled. "Don't bother calling the staff," she said. "They will not hear you. You're still dreaming, Zelda."
The girl reached out a hand to touch hers. It was transparent, the hand of a ghost.
"Let your rational mind take a rest for a moment," the ghost-girl instructed. "I know you probably do not believe what you see."
"Perceptions of the brain can be very tricky," Zelda replied, "especially in the morning on five-minutes of sleep when I have not have my coffee."
"I am not haunting you, I assure you that."
"Then, what? I mean, I killed two people last night, but they aren't dead yet. They should be haunting me when the time comes. I've never met you."
The ghost cocked her head. "Do I not look like one of your ancestors as seen in pictographs?"
"New Hyrule," Zelda said. "The pioneer of the Transcontinental Railroad. The one who drove the Golden Spike uniting Greater Hyrule with New Hyrule. The Rail Queen. You look just like her portrait as a young girl…"
"I wish that my dear husband could have lived to drive the Golden Spike instead of leaving it to me," the Rail Queen sighed. "He'll be coming at the right time to the one who needs to see him, the legacy of his spirit as I have come to you."
"Okay," Zelda said, "if I'm having a dream about my ancestors, why is it that you have come to me? And why did I see a horse racing the train?"
The Rail Queen giggled. "The spirit-mare was me. A counterpart to the Iron Horse, you see. I always did like my time spent in armor. I am here to give you the courage to embrace your destiny and to remind you that history isn't all as it has been writ."
"What do you mean about my destiny?"
"You are meant to join up with the Hero of this age."
"I thought those were mostly stories."
"True stories," the spirit insisted. "I know… the magic of the world is mostly gone and you can only muster a little. You, a light-mage to your sisters' fire, earth and ice abilities, but you are capable of far greater and the land will regain greater if only you embrace the possibility. The Hero's spirit yet lives in this dry land. You must find him and fight alongside him. I fought with my Hero. It sort of broke a longstanding tradition, but… it needed breaking."
"If I am a player in a legend, I suppose it means we have entered one of the dark ages."
"Correct, but our kind has always overcome them. Yours is the true ancient spirit of us…"
"Us?"
"Think of me as a vision of someone you once were. You will remember more as you become more attuned to Wisdom. You will take the power that is rightfully yours and you will led Hyrule to a greener age."
"Green… in this land?"
"There is still some to be coaxed," the spirit said. "Find the Hero. You will know him by his courage. Also, watch out for rats."
"Rats?" Zelda asked, but the vision of her ancestor had already faded. She combed out her butchered-short hair and decided to wander to the dining car to get herself a stiff coffee.
She would get off in Nabooru Town that afternoon, praying to Nayru that she had enough banknote rupees to get a halfway decent hotel room, only to learn that "halfway decent' anything did not exist in Nabooru.
The former princess spent almost two straight days in the dingy quarters she managed to scavenge up studying the Book of Mudora she'd managed to bring and wondering about the dream she'd had featuring her New Hyrulean ancestor.
New Hyrule had been incorporated into what had been called the Old Kingdom or Greater Hyrule after the ancient ocean waters had receded, but it had its own independent and distinct subculture. Whereas Greater Hyrule had a railroad system, it was developed from New Hyrule's system, which was fundamentally different in that the trains ran upon something called the Spirit Tracks there – an ancient remnant from a forgotten indigenous population. They carried some of the last of the world's magical energies – and perhaps the only energies of such kind that most of the general population still believed in. Greater Hyrule's rails were painfully mundane – built of wooden ties from now-extinct forests and tracks of iron. While New Hyrulean culture was practically obsessed with its trains, the railroads were dying in the main kingdom. There were many places where the resources to run them were too scarce to continue the lines. Some of the wealthier areas had taken to building roads to accommodate the novelty of the horseless carriages. Of course, the oddball jeep (developed originally for Hyrule's military) could be seen careening over the open desert occasionally, though the preferred method of travel through the rough country was by horse or some other large animal.
The people that lived in New Hyrule were all descendants of colonists from the ancient kingdom, and in turn, Greater Hyrule was made up of the descendants of colonists from New Hyrule. In a way, the main kingdom had an older air to it, but the people in it had a younger culture than their "New" neighbors. The New Hyrulean nobles, though they answered to the Crown, had banned automobiles in their province. Greater Hyrule had never seen to press them on the matter since there would likely never be a demand for them given the scared nature of the Spirit Tracks to the area's people. Few people there even rode horses or took conventional carriages anywhere. It was all steel and steam for them.
It was appropriate, Zelda thought, for the spirit of her ancestor – if indeed what she'd experienced had not been the result of her brain going crazy from stress – to meet her on a train. What she had read about that ancient queen had her as a true rail-nut. According to reliable history, she'd even had her own private small luxury train and personal engineer. According to rumored history, he'd become her consort. According to legend (and some would say outright myth) he'd been a gods-chosen Hero who'd saved their land.
Zelda spent some time looking over the edge of the Sand Sea on the day she'd decided to emerge from her hotel room and her studies. Nabooru was a sad little harbor town – a once-harbor town. It was still something of a tourist-destination as some people enjoyed the flat expanse of sand, finding even the remains of the sea romantic. The ex-princess had learned that the "sea" beyond Nabooru was quite dangerous. The flats could be walked upon, for the most part. Very few places had sink-sand, but it was an easy expanse to get lost in and the pools of water that littered it were laden with lethal levels of salt. There was one part of the "sea" that was a decently-sized lake that people could wade in and they'd float right to the top because of the salt-density of the water. Some morbid people said that if you searched the dried-up sea in certain coves, you could find un-buried Zora-bones.
After a walk around town, not entirely sure of where to go next in her adventures in exile, Zelda made her way back to her hotel room. She wandered down an alley to throw away the wrapper of the sandwich she'd gotten from the local tavern upon seeing a trash can there. She did not look behind her and later cursed herself for momentarily forgetting her Sheikah survival-skills training.
"The bounty on you will be rich!" came the booming laughter from a very large man.
There were three men and she was cornered. They each had loaded guns pointed at various points on her body. She could tell that the leader wanted to kneecap her – a non-lethal, but crippling move. One man had his weapon drawn toward her middle – a gut-shot – something with a lethality dependant on the type of ammunition used and the angle of the shot, as well as the competence of emergency medical staff – but definitely painful. The skinniest one had his gun pointed toward her head. It looked like that one didn't want to take any chances.
"Gov'ment wants you dead 'er alive!" said the skinny man. "I'd prefer to take ya' in dead, seein' as princesses ain't my type, but Boss here wants you live an' squirmin'!"
"Come nicely and I won't have to use Precious here," the "Boss" said.
Zelda quickly assessed the situation. She thought that maybe she could duck and run under the legs of "Boss" if she was quick enough, though she didn't relish the thought. If Skinny would only get close enough for her to grab his arm, she could wrench it behind his back and snap it and butt his head into the middle-one of the group. She was wise enough to know that she was actually trapped. These were moves she could pull off if she had a sufficient distraction. She regretted forgetting to bring any "deku-nut" smoke bombs with her. She had not learned the full Sheikah magic from her Impa (which would require her to make a specific sacrifice she had not been ready for), so she could not meld into the shadows. She briefly thought it hilarious how she could strategize possible ways to get away from common street criminals in microseconds, yet could not strategize how to make things right in the halls of power.
She'd run with her tail between her legs with the help of a pair of knights braver than she could ever hope to be.
Zelda did the only thing she could do at the moment. She screamed her head off, hoping that a "helpless girl scream" would distract her assailants enough that she could get an advantage.
Instead, a young man came running into the alley to her aid. Unfortunately, he was unarmed. Also unfortunately, he also looked clueless, even downright stupid.
Hello, distraction!
A single thought echoed in Zelda's head as she used the opportunity given her. Seeing the boy stand his ground with a revolver pointed at his heart made her think of the words the spirit of her ancestor spoke in her dream: "You will know him by his courage."
Time was a blur, but she was pretty sure she saw that young man outright deck "Boss" in the jaw and steal the gun right out of his greasy hand. She, herself, was too busy wrenching Skinny's arm behind his back and kicking the middleman in the stomach to be sure what happened next.
When the adrenaline began to wane she found herself in the saddle of a horse, clinging to her would-be "hero" as they rode across the desert.
"You can stay at the ranch for a while… if you work. We could use hands. If you're new here, I'm sure you could use work."
His voice swam in her aching head, but it swam pleasantly. Yeah… Middie had clocked her with the butt of his piece, hadn't he? That's why she was having trouble remembering anything that happened after she'd kicked him…
A beast howled in the distance. It sounded deep, like a wolf, but she didn't think there were any wolves around anymore… it must have been a coyote.
"Hold tight there. You took quite a hit. We'll get you rested up. I'm pretty sure we lost the Dummy Brigade back in the Lost Hills. I know that place like the back of my hand. Anyone who doesn't know them is sure to get turned around and come back in Nabooru. I hope those men didn't do anything…unseemly to you."
"Ni..no.." Zelda slurred. "Your back's warm. Did you know that? Nice and warm…"
She snuggled into his shoulder. She didn't even know his name, but in her injured state, he sure felt nice. She felt like she knew him, for some reason, even though she didn't recognize his face. He had a nice green shirt on and a pretty green hat. Green…green…
"My name's Link, by the way. Link D'Ordona. It means "From Ordona." Do you have a name or should I even ask right now?"
Suddenly, sobriety came to Zelda's mind. Her head still hurt, but survival instinct, everything her Impa had taught her and the sacrifices made by Pipit and Karane had come to the fore of her thinking.
"M-Marin," she said quickly. "Marin Koho."
"It's nice to meet you, Marin. That's sort of like my cousin's name. I have a girl-cousin named Malon. She's very nice. She's an expert on horses – also on making omelettes. My uncle's an ex- royal guardsman. He'll have a look at your head. He knows a fair bit of medical stuff. Took care of me a few years ago when I broke my arm, so he knows how to do serious stuff."
"Guardsman…" Zelda kept her voice calm, but almost panicked. She would be recognized!
"He retired from the service years ago, like, back before I was born… eighteen years ago and has been a farmer ever since."
Zelda breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't recognize her. If they'd even met, she would have been a toddler.
"Are you alright there, Marin?"
"Yeah," Zelda lied through her throbbing headache.
"We're almost there. It's the patch of green up ahead… if you can lift your head to see it."
The wolf in the hills howled again.
