To the untrained eye, the Eastern Reservoir appeared empty, its waters so still they could be mistaken for ice. The cold that came with the onset of winter didn't reach under Sidon's scales. There was too much salt within, thickening his blood, deterring the crystals that would dig their way underneath and seek to push him out.
The other Zora were not so tough-skinned as him. Even Sidon felt the weight of their weariness in his chest. His people huddled and shivered, and soon their grief breached that broad, thick wall that Sidon had made around himself. He thought it had been made impenetrable by a century of mourning; of wondering why his sister had left them, why his father wept every evening, and why the crown destined for him never seemed to fit. In years past, Sidon would smile, ball his fist, and face the grief that pervaded his home with nothing but positivity, and optimism, and hope. It was all he could do to survive.
But now… now, it was too much. The Gerudo attack had torn his people asunder like fish ripped from the waters and left to flail and drown in the sun.
One hundred years of peace bordering on tedium and then, the attack – unfeeling, uncaring – a dozen arrows pinning the King to his throne and a sharpened blade slicing his throat. Blinded, Sidon had torn every bandit that he could catch to pieces, waking with bloodied hands and salt-filled eyes to the sound of his father's voice.
Too fast. Vah Ruta. My daughter. Where is my Mipha? The last words of a sundered King. The Prince had gone to Vah Ruta then and had submerged her within the Eastern Reservoir where no bandit or Zora could reach her. As the fullness of understanding began to take hold, his hand shaking as he held it to Ruta's main terminal, Sidon could have sworn he had felt the Divine Beast weep.
Too soon. The Prince retreated. Both within himself, and to places that no one else in the Domain could reach. The Council had taken over the Domain in the interim. They declared war on the Gerudo on the day of the attack, dispatching word to the envoy in the desert, and Sidon found himself somehow in terrible agreement. "Do what you must," he told his Council and pushed this 'war' from his mind.
Soon the Zoran envoy had returned, with two of their number dead and a third missing. From that moment Zora's Domain ceased to exist. Any foreigners within the city were evicted. Trade with outsiders was halted. No one entered the Domain and no one left.
At the centre of this chaos, however, Sidon found a pearl of positivity; his sense of faith that his people, and his home, could always endure. But faith was not enough, and his pain was holding firm. Sidon had known courage. He had met its personification. But he could not find its fullness within himself.
At least he had Vah Ruta. Surveying the Eastern Reservoir one last time, Sidon watched dawn break over the glimmering plateaus and etched mesas of Lanayru. Bracing himself, he leapt into the freezing waters.
As he pushed further below the surface, a faint constellation of pulsating blue lights came into view until Sidon reached the gargantuan form of the Divine Beast Vah Ruta. He swam in through the archways of the stern and immediately made for the Main Control Unit. When he placed hand a hand against the terminal, Sidon heard the voice as if spoken from some great depth within himself.
Prince of the Zora. You return.
No time to talk just yet – no way to speak through the water. Sidon closed his eyes and pulled; the inner mechanics of Vah Ruta whirred and pushed against the frozen waters, and together, Prince and Beast rose through the Reservoir until they surfaced into the morning light.
"Good work, Vah Ruta, and good morning," he called out as the waters drained. "Run a diagnostic for me, would you?"
I am functional. I report nothing else.
"Wonderful, wonderful to hear." Sidon walked into the central chamber and placed a hand on one of the sub-terminals. "No signs of Malice anywhere?" he asked.
None since I was cleansed by the Champion and the Keeper.
"Keeper? You mean the Princess?"
I do.
"Tell me about this new title of hers. I have not heard it."
It is not new. She keeps the Three.
"… I see," Sidon said, not seeing. Then the Beast spoke of its own volition.
Where are they? You seek them.
Sidon sighed. "I do not know, Ruta. But I have faith that Link and Zelda are well."
The Beast sensed his apprehension.
If it is as you say.
Confident that Vah Ruta was safe and unharmed, Sidon left her floating by the docks of the Reservoir and made his way slowly back to Zora's Domain. The Beast's last words to him lingered, simmering amongst his idle thoughts. Sidon had never considered that Link and Zelda might be in peril. In fact, he had forgotten them entirely in the month since the attack. But now they were present once more, bringing a wave of longing and loneliness, as well as a simple, almost inherent question: are they involved somehow, in this war?
Too complex. Champions went, and trouble followed. Sidon had avoided the Council Chamber, content to his cowardice. But no more. His friends needed him.
The Chamber at Zora's Domain was uproarious, but when Sidon entered the room, the silence ached.
"Morning's welcome," Sidon smiled at the reverent faces; old Zora, young Zora, all noble and dripping in jewellery - with Muzu at the centre, a force of his own around which the rest of the Domain crumbled.
Muzu grinned with thin lips. "We were just talking about you."
Sidon remembered the shouts that he had heard from the hallway and feeling the appraising eyes of the Council upon him did not let his smile drop. "Wonderful," he said, and the whole room took a breath.
Muzu waved him over to the war table. "Come, we were discussing potential angles of attack," A map of Hyrule had been laid out, drawn on a large square of yellowed parchment.
When Sidon approached, the Councillors parted, bowing their heads as he passed. "Attacks? Surely we have no need for more violence," the Prince cautioned.
Muzu gave a desultory flick of the fin. "A figure of speech, of course." He addressed the Councillors in a gravelled voice, honed by age. "Now, Councillors, I believe the Domain has spent enough time on convalescence. We must act. I have dispatched a new envoy to secure the newly-constructed Geldarm Bridge-"
"You said attacking was a metaphor," Sidon rose from the map to face the Council. Beside him, one of the younger diplomats bristled, hands crossed impatiently at his chest.
"You think we should just let them go unpunished?" the diplomat challenged. The jewels hung from his dorsal fin tinkered as he spoke.
"Allow me to finish, Sidon," Muzu said firmly. "And thank you, Farlo, you are right. The Gerudo will answer, but a direct attack is unnecessary."
The Councillors whispered and nodded, but the more Sidon looked at the map, the less sure he was of this 'war'. The first attack had been on Vah Ruta, perhaps with the intention to seize her. But the second - it had been so sudden and unprovoked, and the bandits hadn't gone anywhere near Vah Ruta. The Beast's question was on his mind; where are Link and Zelda? If they were involved, and Sidon felt somehow that they were, there had to be more to the Gerudo attack.
"Listen - we ought to wait." Sidon met each Councillor's gaze and saw their apprehension. "We should try to find the Princess and the Champion. We could use their aid, and we know they were in the desert with the envoy."
"Those two are too busy with their lover's quarrel to help us," scoffed Farlo. He had been with the Zoran Envoy as well, Sidon remembered and was among the last to see the Hylian duo.
"Are you aware of their whereabouts, then?" Sidon demanded. "As a diplomat, you should know their value." He towered over the diplomat, and in taking a step towards him, saw Farlo's marble glare turn to water.
"Well, I-it was a stressful time. That fool Ambassador had been taken, by a Gerudo no less, and-"
Sidon turned his attention back to Muzu. "And what action has been taken to find her? Where did she go!?"
The mumblings from the Council amounted to a collective shrug. "To the desert, of course," Muzu offered.
"As a hostage," Farlo added.
"And have the Gerudo made any demands?" Another ripple of mumblings. No, Sidon surmised. Sidon threaded his tongue through his teeth in frustration and eyed the map again. Like the Hylians, they had no idea of the Ambassador's location. Why take her and make no demands?
"Call it off," Sidon ordered, eyes set square on Muzu. "Something does not add up. We are diving headlong into a conflict that we do not understand."
Shouts rang out in the chamber. Our King is dead! What is there to understand?
Muzu spoke softly and calmly, but his words sent a shockwave through the chamber, and soon all were listening to the old advisor. "We will not sit idle. Hyrule must see our strength."
"No. If the Gerudo retaliate, we are outnumbered, and vulnerable." Sidon could feel allegiance in the room shift towards the advisor, but he held firm. "Call it off."
Muzu returned intensity with assurance. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, Your Grace."
"I am the king," Sidon snapped. "That is an order!"
"Oh Sidon," Muzu sighed, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Where is your political education? We never officiated your title. The Council has elected me as Regent until the war effort is over."
Sidon glared at his father's advisor. "Usurper," he snarled, and the Council tensed.
"Careful now, Sidon, let us not venture into the realm of treason. I am Regent, after all."
Sidon looked at the Council, their eyes now blank and foreign. They had not looked upon him with reverence, he realised, but embarrassment, and second-hand shame. "You allowed this?" he asked them weakly.
"You allowed this, Sidon," Muzu countered. "What was it you said? Do what you must?" He circled the table with his hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the map, and the Councillors shifted around him. Muzu tapped a webbed finger to the place on the map marked Ruta's Plateau, and said,"The Domain is safe under my rule, now it is time to have our retribution. And for that, Sidon, I require your assistance."
Teba regarded the Sheikah Slate with apprehension, as though the Sheikah eye on its back could bear witness to his secrets. "I'll be honest with you Rowan; it's a bit unsettling." They were stood together atop Talonto Peak, a spiral-cut hill with a single, towering pine at its peak and an outcrop that extended out over the ravine below. They were now three days into their journey and had seen no sign of any other travellers; Zelda was finally confident that it was safe to use the Sheikah Slate without the risk of being seen.
She peered up from the screen and lowered the Sheikah Slate from her face. "I'm just doing a remote diagnostic. Think of it as taking a photo."
Teba's concerned expression held. "I don't know what that is."
Ignoring him, she raised the Slate once more, holding it in the direction of Divine Beast Vah Medoh. A schematic of the Beast's mechanical body was displayed on the screen. Worse, she noted with some dismay. Much worse.
In the days after she and Link had defeated Ganon, Zelda had run remote diagnostics on all four of the Divine Beasts. Each of them beside Vah Ruta had reported being in good working order; functional, secure and at the time, without a registered pilot. But now Vah Medoh seemed in a similar state as Ruta once was; low power, teeming with Malice, and now releasing a distress signal. And to make matters worse, Zelda and Teba were walking away from the Beast, hiking on foot through the frozen mountainsides and deep ravines of Hebra.
"Well, damn," Teba sighed, drinking in the sights. "It's all visible from up here."
And it was; Lake Totori to the south, the Hebra Mountains to the north, and to the east, the crumbling Hyrule Castle. Zelda looked down from the peak at the now distant Lake Totori and the pillar of rock that rose out of it, onto which Rito Village had been quite literally bolted. From this distance, Vah Medoh shone, the luminescent etchings beginning to light up along the Divine Beast's ancient body as the afternoon began to wane. Zelda followed the colossal bird's line of sight towards Hyrule Castle, and felt an ephemeral pull; something magnetic, calling her to action.
She looked down at her Sheikah Slate and wondered if perhaps now she could rescue Link. She could teleport into the Shrine under the Castle, find him, get him out and teleport back to Hebra. It could be so simple.
"If you're thinking of a Hyrule Castle Day Trip, I'd advise against it."
Teba too was now appraising the ruined Hyrule Castle, his eyes hard and critical. Had he read her thoughts?
"I know it's dangerous but-"
"But you have absolutely no intel, that's what." Teba cautioned, and Zelda remembered what Kass had told her. He's a strategist, through and through. "Even if Link is still there, which you admitted you don't know, you have no idea where he's being kept. That Slate can get you out of trouble, but you can't get you out of trouble. If you lose the Slate, you've lost your way out, and you've dropped it in the hands of your enemy."
Zelda re-stowed the Sheikah Slate, accepting the truth of what Teba had said. But beyond his arguments, she realised, she accepted her own fear.
"So what do you suppose I do then?" Zelda pressed, unnerved by her own apprehension. Link would not hesitate to rescue me.
"I'm still working on that," Teba admitted. "One thing at a time, Sparrow."
He turned back towards Hebra, and walked out onto the outcrop, peering long and hard across the rise and fall of the mountains. Zelda took a moment to rest, crouching low to ease the pain in her aching legs. The excitement of journey into Hebra had been quickly replaced by a quiet regret at realising she had neither quite the strength nor endurance for the long hikes and climbs.
"Where to next?" she asked, a little afraid to hear the answer.
"North. We'll walk back down in the morning."
Zelda frowned, rubbing the ache from her legs. "So why did we climb up?"
Teba pointed forwards, across the long ravine that lay beneath Talonto Peak. Zelda stood and met him on the outcrop, squinting against the harsh light of the setting sun. At the next crest over, a hut was nestled into the snow, its presence made known by no more than a thin line of smoke rising from its chimney, dissipating into the hazy sunset.
"A friend of mine lives there. She travels around Hebra quite a bit," Teba explained. "No point dropping in if she isn't home."
The first stop in their journey; as Zelda surveyed the hut, she noticed that it was built at the edge of a series of steep, smooth slopes. Zelda opened her mouth to speak, to ask, what is your friend doing all the way out here, when, from behind them, she heard a muffled sniffle.
Both Teba and Zelda turned to see a small white fledgeling emerging from behind the pine tree, carrying a small and overstuffed pack.
"Tulin!?" Teba growled. "How long have you been following us!?"
"I'm sorry, Father," the boy whimpered. "I just didn't want to be left behind. I wasn't sure how to tell you. But then it got so cold." Zelda saw that his eyes were slick with budding tears, and drooping from exhaustion.
"You cannot come with us, Tulin," Teba placed a wing on the fledgeling's chest and began to push him back along the path. "It isn't safe for you. Go back to your mother."
Tulin would not budge. "No! I know you think I'm not strong enough! But I'm getting stronger!"
Teba heaved a long, fatigued sigh, and knelt before his son. "I know me leaving without you is confusing but—"
"It isn't confusing. It's unfair." Tulin insisted. "I thought I was your apprentice, Father. Not her."
"Tulin, I need you to go back home." Teba placed a pacifying wing on his son's shoulder, his words gentler than they could have been. "I'm sure your Mother is looking for you."
But Tulin shook his head, and Zelda saw Teba's expression darken when the boy said, "She isn't. I don't even know where she is."
"What do you mean?"
"She left just after you did," Tulin answered innocently. He was plying the strap of his pack tight between his wingtips, shivered slightly against the chilly afternoon winds.
Teba tightened his grip on Tulin's shoulder. "I need you to be honest with me."
"I am! She was gone for hours before I decided to try to find you."
Oh no...It can't be. "Teba…" Zelda began.
"Tulin, do not lie to me." Anger had started to thread itself into Teba's voice, but Tulin stood defiant, the tears beginning to roll down his cheek.
"I'm not lying. I never lied!" Frantic, he pointed to Zelda. "That girl has a mark on her hand, I saw it. And I'm not lying about Mother either!"
"Teba, I think he's telling the truth…" Zelda pressed, feeling a strange numbness in the place of shock.
The Rito warrior suddenly stood and marched over to her, speaking in a harsh, almost threatening whisper. "You expect me to believe my wife is involved in all this."
"I don't know," Zelda admitted. "But we are here to find out…" she looked at Tulin, who was staring at them with wide, hopeful eyes. He was no longer the little brat who had almost gotten her found out, but rather a lost young child, desperate to be accepted. Zelda left Teba on the outcrop and knelt down before Tulin, giving him a warm smile. She shot Teba a glance that said, don't interfere.
"You made it all the way here yourself?" she asked. Tulin nodded, sniffling as new tears formed in his eyes.
"That was very brave of you," she went on. "These mountains are dangerous."
Tulin nodded again. "I followed you the whole time. I wanted to turn back, but then it got dark…"
"I understand," Zelda said gently. "But it's okay to be afraid, little one."
Tulin's face dropped. "Mother calls me that. I hate it. The girls tease me for my size."
"How about brave one then? I don't think any of Kass' daughters could have done what you have." Zelda looked back to Teba, word coy and clipped. "What do you think, hm? Hasn't he been brave?"
Teba gave her a dark look, and all he said was, "We're taking him home in the morning."
"No!" Tulin cried, but Teba was unmoved. Zelda smiled at Tulin once more. "Stay here," she whispered and returned to Teba.
"I know it's dangerous," she said in a low voice, an acknowledging hand on Teba's injured wing. "But do you think he's safer there than here? He says Saki wasn't watching him."
"He could have been lying-"
"Does it matter? He made it this far, so clearly she wasn't." Zelda crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at him, defiant despite the way he towered over her. "And Teba, listen to me. I know exactly how he's feeling. I know what it's like to be a disappointment, to not understand why you can't just be what is expected of you." Teba opened his beak to protest, but she continued. "You can push him away now, and again, and again after that before you start taking him seriously. But he will remember each time. And he will wonder why you seemed to hate him so."
"And what makes you so sure?" Teba growled.
"Because I had a father once, Teba. One much like yourself." She looked at Tulin again. "But he's your son. It's your decision."
Teba glared down at her, but she stood firm, surprised by her determination. At last, the Rito relented; "We will decide in the morning," he said coolly, ignoring Tulin's small, joyful cry. "For now, help me make a fire."
Tulin set about dutifully to his task, and Zelda collapsed down to the ground, weak as water. She was exhausted; in body, and in spirit.
Tulin was awake before either Teba or Zelda rose, and Zelda guessed that the poor boy had likely barely slept. He was knelt by their fire, gently coaxing the flames back to life, and smiled weakly when he saw that they were awake.
"I'm sorry I couldn't get it going any sooner, Father," Tulin said, motioning to the fire. Teba seemed to smile, kneeling down to help his son with his task. He looked to Zelda.
"We wouldn't be the ones complaining," he quipped.
Zelda feigned offence. "Oh, my mistake for being born without feathers," she retorted, and Tulin giggled.
The fledgeling fidgeted as they breakfasted in silence on cured meat and mushroom skewers, eating little and fighting a second round of sniffles. Afterwards, as they readied their packs, he took extra care to sort his belongings. And when they were finally ready to move on, he would not rise from his seat by the fire.
"What are you doing, Tulin?" Teba asked.
"I'm sorry," Tulin said, crestfallen. "I'm just not ready to go home yet. It was…it was so exciting following you."
"Well hurry up then," Teba urged as he began to make his way down the mountain. "We can't have you fall behind."
Tulin's face lit up, and he leapt to his feet, pack slung deftly over his shoulders. He was at his father's side in an instant, the more enthusiastic traveller of the duo.
"I knew you'd let me come with you!" he beamed.
"Yeah well, thank me by keeping up." Teba reached down to ruffle Tulin's feathers, eliciting another round of giggles from the fledgeling. Zelda smiled and followed close behind. It's a start, she thought.
The mechanical goggles whirred as each eyepiece moved independently, the pin-prick irises examining what they saw with a cold, analytical certainty. Below, Robbie's mouth was pressed into a thin-lipped scowl. In the dim light, Link caught sight of splattered dried blood on the goggles, crusted and peeling, and a yellowed bruise ageing on Robbie's cheek. Likely the tale of the capture of the Sheikah researcher and his son was a lively one.
"You are sure then," Robbie frowned. He pressed close against the bars of his cell. "The Princess is alive?"
Link closed his eyes, extending his awareness to somewhere beyond. He'd felt it the day before; a small, persistent tug from the centre of his back, so faint that it almost didn't register. The Sword had sensed her, and it sang the song of her presence. "Yes, definitely," Link concluded, re-opening his eyes.
"Really?" came the breathless question from the next cell over. Larella, Ambassador of the Zora, was still interred in the Lockup. "How can you be sure?"
Link clenched his jaw and eyed the ground. I just am, he wanted to say, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if it was more wishful thinking than some sixth sense.
Robbie exhaled a long sigh. Beside him, Granté was propped up against cell bars, both eyes blackened, his hair hanging in greasy streaks about his hollowed cheeks. Robbie looked down at his son, his harsh scowl softening into a weak smile. "We mustn't fret over the Princess. She has been on her own before."
Link saw that Granté's eyes were glassy and vacant. The Sheikah had barely reacted to Link's arrival in the Lockup, eyes set catatonically forward. "What happened to him?" he asked.
"They captured Granté first," Robbie explained. "Starved him, trying to make him reveal my location. They've had him for months, in a camp in Akkala. He managed to send me a letter somehow, begging for me to hide. But when I heard they had my son..." Robbie ran a hand through Granté's hair as he spoke, his voice cracked under a sorrow so powerful that Link felt it in his chest. "I sent Jerrin to Hateno and sought out their camp myself. I said that I would go with them if they ceased harming my son. They agreed, and here we are."
Link did not know what to say. He knelt down and inspected Granté's gaunt face. The young Sheikah blinked at him, his eyes turning harrowingly placid - almost hopeful. "I'm sorry this has happened to you," Link murmured. Granté slowly opened his mouth to speak, and swallowed with some trouble. "My father…" he croaked. "Protect him."
Link nodded, but the promise felt hollow. He was on the other side of the bars, that was true, but he could do little to help them. Keenly, like feeling the heat of the sun or the trickle of sweat against his brow, he became aware of Inglis' presence at the edge of the room. He was waiting, leaning up against the far wall, dark eyes watching the meeting.
"Why have you come to me Champion?" Robbie asked. "Why is it that you walk free?"
"I do not walk free," Link said tersely, casting an askance glance at Inglis. "They take me everywhere. They tell me what I can do."
"You are certainly more free than any of us," came the comment from Larella. Frustration stirred in Link's stomach. Wasn't it you who told me to survive?
"They tell you what to do?" Robbie questioned. "What is it that you do for them?"
Link looked to Larella, and then back to Robbie. How could he begin to explain? "…I just want to say that had no choice-"
"Are you helping them?" Larella asked, her face drawn. She approached the bars of her cell, and Link could see the thin scar on her neck. He could do nothing but nod, and stare at the ground.
Robbie scowled, and even Grante seemed affected by the revelation. "They're Yiga, Link. My people's sworn-"
"There's a Guardian! In the Gatehouse. A live Guardian." Link blurted out. He saw Inglis watching, and began to whisper. "And they think I can control it!"
"And why is that?" Robbie whispered back.
"They must have heard what I was doing before I rescued Zelda, with the Beasts. They think I have some...natural talent." Link wrapped his hands around the bars. "But I don't. I need your help."
The beady eyepieces of Robbie's goggles centred on Link, the luminescent irises intensifying as he spoke. "Allow me to repeat myself, Champion. That Gerudo Cinelgen is a Yiga. I would die, and see the ancestral technology of my people completely snuffed out before I aided his ends."
"Alright, alright," Link pulled out his notebook and flipped through the pages. Finding the page he needed, he held the book up to the cell bars. "Just tell me what the pattern means."
Robbie did not look at the notebook. "No."
"Cinelgen is going to kill me," Link felt the desperation in his throat. "And anyone who gets in his way. Please,"
The Sheikah sighed once more, and looked up at the notebook. He scanned the notes where Link had drawn the pattern of the Guardian's blinking.
… - - - … - - -
"It's a distress signal," he said, running a finger along the page. "Save our souls. You've written down too many letters. There's only three in the phrase."
Link could not stop the grin from crawling across his face. "Really? That's…" He was speechless, his smile wide, triumphant. He'd been right! "The Guardian was calling for help then."
"Ah, fascinating." Robbie brought a hand to his chin. "Communicative functions were retained..."
"Communicative…?"
"No." Robbie drew back, re-centring his focus on Link. "I've already given you too much."
In his periphery, Link saw Inglis shift. Time was running out. He looked to his Hylian captor, and suddenly remembered how he had gotten to the Lockup in the first place. Words, and secrets, a new kind of knowing, allowing him to manipulate Inglis into sneaking him through the Castle in the dead of night. A puzzle where people were the components. If I did it once, I can do it again.
"Robbie, the Guardians are your life's work," Link pleaded. "You told us that they could be useful. That they could protect us. What if I can use mine to break out of here? And if I don't learn to control Rhoamet, then maybe Cinelgen eventually will."
Robbie considered Link with a hard frown. "Rhoamet?"
Link shrugged. "…I thought he could use a name."
Robbie peered at Inglis waiting in the shadows, and then looked back to Link. If he was convinced, Link could not tell, but then he ushered Link foward and said, "Quickly. Give me that notebook."
Link did as he was bid, and the Sheikah began scribbling down a series of letters and symbols. "Sheikah Code uses a series of long and short signals. Purah, Impa and I have been using it to encode letters since we were children. Pre-Calamity we discovered that the Guardians could communicate basic phrases using the code." When he handed it back, Link saw that he had written the entire Hylian alphabet, but with each letter accompanied by a series of dots or dashes. "It seems like your Guardian is in a bad state. Find out what's wrong with it. But keep it out of Cinelgen's hands, do you understand me?"
"Thank you, Robbie," Link said breathlessly, eyes scanning the code. "I mean that."
Inglis was approaching; Link snapped the notebook shut.
"Be wary, Champion," Robbie said as Inglis ushered Link out of the Lockup. "Lives depend on your actions. Perhaps now more than ever."
Link blinked away his sleepiness as they lead him into the Gatehouse; he had spent the entire night committing the Sheikah Code to memory. When he closed his eyes, he saw dots and dashes that swam in his mind like moths surrounding a flame. He had left his notebook in his chambers.
The Guardian seemed to have grown used to the visits, and no longer huddled against the wall when they entered. Instead, it sat, almost passive, against the far wall of the Gatehouse and watched unblinking as they approached.
"Morning's welcome, Rhoamet," Link said, quiet enough so that only he could hear. The Guardian had not lashed out in a few days, and Cinelgen now seemed convinced that it either could not or did not want to use its beam. So now the sessions were staffed only by the dutiful Inglis and savvy Aurelia, as well as Cinelgen's two personal guards - a green-feathered Rito named Marl, and a Gerudo woman named Teel. Link would have preferred not to have Cinelgen's watchful eye over them during this sessions, but the Gerudo insisted on overseeing every meeting, with a wild smile, and eyes solid as granite.
Link stood before the Guardian, and held out a hand. "Your halberd, Inglis."
"…Are you joking?" Inglis laughed from behind him, the sound humourless, more of a harsh wheeze than a chuckle.
Link held firm. "Give me your halberd."
"You think we're going to give the Hero of Hyrule a weapon?" Aurelia retorted. She stood on Link's left flank, her halberd pointed just slightly towards the Guardian. It had yet to gain her trust.
"I'm asking nicely." Link warned. His mind was hazy, the letters coming back in flurries and waves, and he blinked them away without success. "I don't need to ask. But I am."
Words are stronger. Words are worse. When the two Hylians stared at him blankly, Link went over their heads. "Cinelgen!" he called. "Trust. I can't work without it."
Cinelgen was gripping the balcony, grinning as though the entire exchange entertained him. "Inglis. Do as he says."
With a scowl, Inglis handed Link his halberd and using the pommel Link drew three letters into the dirt.
S O S
The Guardian looked at him blankly, tilting its body town to observe the writing. Beneath the letters, Link wrote the pattern as he remembered it; ● ● ● ▬ ▬ ▬ ● ● ●
"I'm sorry I didn't...remember, sooner. But I know what you're trying to say now. And I can understand."
The Guardian took two steps towards the code, its body flashing orange, and then blue. And then it began to blink, the pattern new. Link studied the blinking, brows furrowed. He became keenly aware of the eyes upon him, as well as the price of failure. It was an intricate pattern. Long, and new, the meanings of the signals only half remembered. He fought down a yawn, his concentration waning. And just as it became too much, Link heard the voice.
You can't hear the song with a clouded mind.
Otra. The Battlemaster. His teacher. He wasn't even family, and yet he was still a stronger presence than most of the figures from Link's former life, he'd realised. "I know, Otra," Link muttered. "I know."
Link focused on his breath, centred himself, and locked eyes with the Guardian, collecting the letters in his head as he recognised them.
"T..B..D...O...W...TB Down?"
The Guardian blinked a new pattern; ▬ ▬ ● ▬
"Yes?"
It blinked the same pattern again; ▬ ▬ ● ▬
"Yes." Link said. "I don't know what TB is."
A third pattern. Link read out the letters. "B...e...a...beam! Ah - targeted beam!" He looked up at Cinelgen. reigning in his excitement. "His beam is broken! Just like you said."
"Good, good," the Gerudo replied, and he walked down from the parapets, his guards following close behind. Rhoamet stepped backwards, body gleaming a muted orange hue. "You can understand it now?" Cinelgen queried.
"Ah...yes," Link nodded, preparing the lie, trying to let the words feel natural. "It came to me overnight. I was taught the code, though I barely remember it."
"Wonderful, wonderful," Cinelgen approached the Guardian, and it continued to step backwards. Link felt the panic churning in his stomach. If it lashes out, if it hurts him…
"You will produce a cypher for us," Cinelgen commanded. "If it can communicate, then it can take orders."
"Uh...in time. I'd need more time."
"Anything you need." Cinelgen clapped Link on the shoulder and leant down to meet his eye, the brightness of his gaze only barely hiding the ruthlessness beneath. "I'm proud of you, Link. You came through for me."
Cinelgen motioned to his guards to depart the Gatehouse, leaving Inglis, Aurelia and Link alone with the Guardian. Link turned back to Rhoamet, Inglis' halberd still in hand. He scrapped his foot across the dirt, clearing away the markings he had made. With the pommel, he began to carefully write his own name.
"Alright, buddy," he said to the Guardian. "I think it's time we began proper introductions."
The snow was falling in a thick lattice when they finally arrived at the cabin, and its owner, a sprightly Hylian woman named Selmie, seemed to be the only one excited by the passing blizzard. She met them with a beaming smile and a warm mug of tea, the steam rising to meet her face, her cropped blonde hair tucked under a beanie.
"Isn't this weather is perfect for slopes?" Selmie grinned, her plump cheeks made rosy by the cold air. "Two years ago we had a warm winter, and I almost went out of business."
"I still don't understand how you stay in business, Selmie," Teba commented as he shook his feathers free of the snow. In his shadow Tulin was doing the same, his single braided feather snaking back and forth.
"Word of mouth is a powerful thing in Hebra," Selmie shrugged. "But who am I to keep you outside with my chatter? Come in, come in."
The cabin was cosy and warm, with a small fire crackling in the hearth and just enough space for a bed, a desk and a simple kitchen. An isolated life, Zelda thought, sensing the appeal that it would have. No responsibilities. No burdens. Just the beauty, and the brutality, of the open air.
"Cocoa? Tea?" Selmie asked, fetching Zelda a mug from the kitchen.
"Oh, uh—" She wasn't sure what Rowan would drink. "Tea is fine. Hyrule Herb."
"Coming right up, uh – what was your name?" Selmie asked with a smile so welcoming that Zelda almost gave the woman the truth. Instead, she just gaped at her, suddenly dumbfounded, and with a slightly concerned look, Selmie turned to Teba.
"You never introduced us. New apprentice?"
"No, no," Teba corrected a little too quickly. He sat cross-legged by the fire and gestured for Tulin to do the same. "Travelling partner. Selmie, this is Rowan."
Zelda frowned inwardly as she shook Selmie's hand. How much longer will I have to do this?
The Hylian woman brewed a fresh mug of tea and another mug of hot cocoa. She gave Zelda the first and took the second in hand as she approached the fire.
"And you must be Tulin," She said, handing the fledgeling the second mug. "The last time I saw your father you were barely more than a chick, and now look at you."
Tulin giggled in response, thanking her and bringing the mug to his face. Zelda knelt beside Tulin, drinking in the warmth of the fire, feeling the chill shake from her skin, and the flames scald the tip of her nose.
"In fact, I haven't seen anyone since that darling Hylian boy passed through here last winter," Selmie said as sat down opposite the Rito, a sly smile on her face. "Best shield surfer I've ever seen. I had to bar him, would you believe? Forget the weather; he would have run me out of business. Not that I would have minded."
"A prodigy, then?" Teba asked, shooting Zelda a knowing glance, and her eyes went wide as she understood; she's talking about Link.
"Something like that," Selmie took a long sip of her drink. Zelda looked down into the steam that rose from her mug, unable to drink. Selmie leant forward, lips twinged into a curious grin. "Now, I know you Teba. You aren't here just to visit. What is it that you want to know?"
Teba straightened his back, readying himself. Zelda saw his gaze harden; a shield against his own vulnerability. "I'm looking for Yahn." Selmie lowered her mug.
"Oh Teba…no," she sighed. "We spoke about—"
"I'm not trying to get him back. I'm not a fool," Teba cut her off. "I think he might be connected to something. I need to know if you've seen anything suspicious in the mountains."
Selmie thought for a moment and then stood, going to her desk and returning with a small notebook. "I have seen something. Near Hebra Plunge. A week ago. There was quite a camp in an old Bokoblin cave, and I remembered seeing a few Rito. But I…" she flipped through the pages. "I remember seeing Hylians too. All were wearing these strange neckerchiefs. And I found it odd because well, I'm Hylian. And I didn't recognise the style."
Zelda felt her breath catch. "Blue and white?" she asked.
Selmie scanned her notebook and then tapped the page. "Yes, actually. I've got it right here. Blue with white embroidery."
Cinelgen's Successors. Zelda looked at Teba and nodded. They were on the right track.
"Thank you, Selmie," Teba said. "This is valuable information."
They spent the rest of the morning with Selmie while she and Teba caught up. She had lived in Hebra her entire life, she explained to Zelda, and became famous for her shield surfing abilities. Ten or so years ago, she formed a lasting friendship with the Rito when they employed her to teach them her skillset. "They thought shield surfing would keep their injured warriors mobile."
"But…" Zelda said.
"But if you've got an injured wing, a shield just becomes an extra burden," Teba sighed. And then, with a grumble. "That and Rito are top heavy. We uh…fall over, a lot."
Selmie stifled a laugh, her face brightened by her smile. Zelda imagined her talking with Link; praising his abilities, casually inviting him in for a drink, smiling at him as she asked him if he would like tea or cocoa. Perhaps it wasn't really Link. She had not found the courage to ask, but just as they were preparing to leave the cabin, she caught Selmie by the arm.
"This Hylian, what did he look like?"
"Oh, a bit like you actually," Selmie laughed. "Same messy hair, same Rito clothes. He was quiet like you too, but it wasn't his talking that I liked." She waggled her eyebrows.
"That…but…" Zelda stammered. "You shouldn't - He was a customer!"
"Rowan," Teba cautioned, placing a wing on Zelda's shoulder. "We were just leaving."
But Selmie just laughed. "No need to get jealous, girl. I meant his surfing. I never saw more of him than that."
Begrudgingly, Zelda let Teba usher out of the cabin, but nearly leapt from his grip to tackle Selmie when she heard the woman mutter, "As much as I would have liked to."
Consulting the map on the Sheikah Slate, Teba estimated that it would take a week to reach the Hebra Plunge. They could round back towards Talonto Peak and then head through the southern pass towards the Hebra Headspring, following the falls south-east.
"We'll keep to the trees, stay out of sight as best we can," Teba addressed Tulin and Zelda as though they were his squadron and him their leader. "There are two former Bokoblin camps; one in the south and one in the east. The Rito could be at either." He made no mention of Yahn; what to expect from his former apprentice, or even what the Rito would look like. Zelda remembered Selmie's disappointment at learning that Teba was looking for Yahn, and wondered what had transpired between them.
In the mornings, they rose at dawn, breakfasted, and trained. Teba had Tulin and Zelda doing archery drills. She had begun to hear his instructions in her dreams. Back straight. Elbow up. Stop tensing. Where's your eye? Feel the air. Feel the arrow. Nothing teaches aim like the fear of missing. You should be able to do this blind. When she had told Teba that she and Link had been sparring with spears, he began her and Tulin on drills with tree branches as well. The fledgeling was strong, but was not as quick, and was easy to trick. He fell for every feint, was surprised by every blow that came in his direction, and was knocked on his feet more times than Zelda could count. And Teba was unyielding, militant in his expectations. He watched Tulin's failures with marbled eyes, collecting each instance with unnerving stoicism. It seemed that, despite Zelda's warning, Teba could not shake his disappointment with his son.
By day they walked. In the early days day of their expedition, Zelda had found the snowquill gear cumbersome; the tight leather chest piece, the thick and downy pants and the wrapped boots doubling the already exhausting effort needed to hike through the thick snow. But now that Winter had well and truly come, and the winds whipped with such ferocity that they stung, Zelda was grateful to have Link's gear. How was it, she wondered, that he could still be looking out for her, even when he had placed half a kingdom between them? I could never be rid of you if I tried, and she realised that the thought gave her comfort. It was the crispness of Hebra, product of its stark and manifest beauty, that seemed to yield the truths hidden by the usual rush of living. I wish you were here, Zelda thought as she took in the shock white snow. I wish I walked with you at my side.
Dusk light brought more drills, and by the evening Zelda was too tired to mind Teba's silent company. Tulin too was often exhausted, falling asleep soon after they supped. One evening as they neared the Hebra Falls, she and Teba were knelt opposite each other by the fire while Tulin snored softly at Teba's side. He still loves his father, Zelda thought sadly. No matter how often he is rebuked.
She tapped through the inventory function of the Slate, looking through Link's collection of weapons and gear. There among them was the Great Eagle Bow – the proud Rito weapon that Revali had once wielded. Unable to resist, Zelda pulled it from the inventory. It materialised above the Slate, and she caught it by the grip, and was surprised by how heavy it was. When she tested the draw weight, she could not even pull back the string.
"That was his?" came the question from across the fire. Teba was working on his own bow; a new Falcon not too dissimilar in make from Revali's.
"Something like it," Zelda replied, handing the bow to Teba. The Rito warrior tried to pull back the string and sighed when he had no more luck that Zelda. "Not sure why I bothered." He muttered, turning the bow over in his hands. "With my eyes, I'm not much good with a standard bow as it is."
"Don't say that," Zelda frowned. "If it helps, you're a better teacher than Revali was."
Zelda smiled as she remembered the Rito Champion's ill-fated lessons; he had tried to teach her to shoot during her yearly visits to Rito Village. But she had little talent and less self-confidence, and eventually, his pride won out over his patience. Perhaps you should stick to praying, he had teased, and she remembered being so hurt that she told him she hated him.
"Revali must have been a bad teacher then," Teba said. "If I'm the standard."
Zelda frowned. She had been thinking on how to broach the subject for days. "We can talk about Yahn if you want to."
The Rito warrior looked up at her, the flames of the fire framing his pained expression. "I don't want to."
Zelda knew not to press the subject further. In time, she reasoned, and to change the subject she asked, "Why do you think he could be working with Cinelgen?"
The Rito's brows knitted in close, and he re-commenced examining the Great Eagle Bow as he pondered the question. Eventually, he shrugged and said. "Why does anyone? Do you know?"
Zelda realised that she didn't, or at least, that she had never asked the question herself. "He told me that the people feel they have no place. Leaves in the wind, he called them."
"Well, the bastard's got the right of it." Teba chuckled, shaking his head.
"You agree with him?"
"I don't agree with starting a civil-fucking-war if that's what you're asking." Teba looked down at Tulin to check that he had not stirred and went on. "But Cinelgen has one thing right; Hyrule is a mess. Sounds like he's the first one to take advantage of that."
Zelda looked into the flames, suddenly aware of the expanse of the wilderness and the pervasive hunger of the darkness around them. A shiver caught at the base of her spine, racing up towards her neck. Something shifted behind her, but when she turned, it was just the wind.
Torchlight led them through the dark hallways of Hyrule Castle, and drunken verse sang them home. Wildwine, or what was left of it, flowed freely across the lips of Cinelgen's Successors, along with a motley mix of home brewed spirits and ales, downed in the absence of any other form of entertainment. The singing rang through the halls, some of it was little more than a bawdy rhyme, and some of it a hymn of old, but most of it nonsense. Inglis and Link walked in a tense silence back to the Royal Apartments after dinner, thoughts clouded by the singing and shouting until they rounded into a windowless hallway both out of sight of both the singers and Link's personal guards that waited by his bedchamber.
"You're still lying to Cinna about the code," Inglis said, matter-of-fact.
Link shrugged and met Inglis' accusing glare. "Yeah?"
"I could tell him."
"Then I'd tell them about Mila."
Inglis winced, but then something changed on his face. A shift, marked by a flicker of a smile. "That's where we differ, Champion. They won't kill me for my mistakes."
With a sharp shove, Inglis ushered Link back down the hallway, keeping his hand on Link's arm the entire way to his chamber. Link felt nails digging into skin, leaving half-moon impressions that made the message clear when he looked upon them later; you are not the one in control.
No, he was not. Inglis need not repeat himself there. But Link still felt a small triumph when he flipped through his notebook on his desk and saw the phrases he had written in Sheikah Code – messages that his Guardian had communicated to him. Link wanted to savour this victory, pull it out and write it down as an example - look, see; I can do this. But then his chest began to throb, and running his hand over the still tender wounds reminded him of his constant and precarious situation.
Link reviewed the week's work. He had started with his name. Link, or just L for short; ● ▬ ● ●
The Guardian learned that fast enough, so he moved onto Inglis (●●) and Aurelia (●▬), though his guards were uneasy at being identified to the ancient war machine in their captivity, as much as Link assured them that it could not attack. Next came a tricky hurdle; the Guardian's name. When he asked, it rattled off a series of numbers.
"You're a little more special than that," he had told the Guardian. "I've got a better name for you."
And with Inglis' halberd, he had written the name in the code. R-H-O-A-M-E-T. The Guardian looked down at the code, and then back to Link. Yes, it spelt out, and with a broad and childish grin, Link had said, "Nice to meet you, Rhoamet."
"You're crazy," Aurelia commented, rolling her eyes. "Naming it like it is a pet, and after the man who destroyed this kingdom."
And maybe Link was a little reckless, but he just refused to believe this Guardian's identity ended at automaton. The Beasts have something like souls, he wrote in his notebook. So maybe he does too.
But the Guardian's semi-consciousness was not the most surprising discovery, Link noted. It was the joy that he found in working with it. It was a puzzle, like so many things, but one he could solve. And for the first time in months, Link felt a clarity of spirit. A certainty. A return to purpose. He was raised a Knight – to help people, to fight for his kingdom. Restoring control over an ancient automaton was perhaps not the path Link would have chosen towards this purpose, but it was a path nonetheless.
He tried to picture Zelda's reaction, but could not. All he could see was her face, soft lips pressed into a frown, long hair framing her eyes as green as the rolling fields. Habitually he rolled his left shoulder, feeling the throb of the arrow wounds. Mipha's power was yet to return, but thankfully the hallucinations of her had ceased. The dreams, however? Strengthened since the fever had left. Being back in the Castle had tapped into something beneath the surface of his clearer memories, rendering his former life in tantalising snippets and half-remembered conversations. Mipha…I've been thinking…
He'd written down what he could catch. An afternoon. The Zora Princess. Roses. And a song, strangely familiar. Tears on the cobblestones and red lips parted in shock. What did I do? What did I say? Whatever it was, Link felt half-afraid to find out. There were only so many situations that could fit what he remembered, and none of them pleasant. But he owed it to Mipha's memory to find that which eluded him. And now that he had convinced Cinelgen that he needed time to 'transcribe' the Guardian's code, he had the time to figure it out.
His thoughts turned back to the evening just past. These days he dined exclusively with Cinelgen and his Hylian partners. It was a dance – always a dance – between playing the role of prisoner and extending himself into something and someone more. When he felt himself faltering, he remembered the example that Zelda had set; steadfast, but always polite, showing her enemies kindness rather than contempt. A week of cautiously teasing out the stories from Cinna taught Link that while he had always been good at not talking, he hadn't always been a good listener. His usual silence replaced by short nods and gentle coaxes of Ah yeah and Very interesting. And strangely, it was working. Link listened quietly as the progressively drunk Gerudo waxed lyrical on his youth, his exploits and most importantly his plans.
Milagre remained tight-lipped in Link's company, perhaps a little wearier than Cinelgen of Link's dual loyalties, or maybe she preferred silence too. And Inglis only spoke when spoken too; certainly, he had control over Link, but he was very much under Cinelgen's thumb.
By the way they acted, Link wondered, earnestly, what kept the trio together.
What do they owe each other? He wrote in his notebook and slid it under his pillow as he turned out his lamp.
Precisely as Teba had predicted, they reached the Hebra Headspring in exactly one week. They passed the eastern camp first, finding it patrolled by a few Hylian's in blue and white neckerchiefs and snowquill gear. Teba however, decided that they would continue south until they reached the second bokoblin hideout. Zelda tried to ply from Teba his plans, but he would not tell her, much to her frustration. He still doesn't fully trust me.
The domed skull-like structure was abandoned, and within they found little more than scrap wood and empty jars. It was built at the edge of a cliff overlooking a vast lake that led to the Hebra Plunge. Zelda felt dizzy as she looked down at the enormous, towering waterfall and heard the churn of the water as it hit the rocks below. Beyond the cliffs, glittering faintly in the distance, she caught sight of Rito Village and Vah Medoh atop the high pillar. Feeling the chill of the morning air seep its way through the snowquill coat, she hoped they would be returning there soon, and turned back towards the hideout to find Teba and Tulin.
The Rito Warrior was kneeling before his son, and as Zelda approached, she heard him explain why they had come all this way south.
"I want you to fly home." He instructed a sniffling Tulin. "You should be able to reach the Stables from here. Do you understand?"
"Why can't I come with you?" Tulin demanded. He was crying again, and Zelda felt her heart render, and the urge to pull Tulin away. To shield him from the pain that was kindred between them.
"Dangerous, capable people are in that camp. I can't deal with them and you." Teba took a deep breath. "You would be a burden."
Tulin crossed his wings. "I'm not going home. I'm not."
"You will not come with us, Tulin. Do you understand me?" Teba stood and glowered down at this son.
"But—"
"Do you understand?"
Zelda winced, feeling the thrum of pain in her chest. Are all fathers like this? she wondered.
"Yes, Father." Tulin whimpered. "Can I at least wait here for you?"
Teba noticed Zelda standing at the edge of the hideout, and shrunk backwards. "Fine. But you go as soon as you see someone that isn't us."
The fledgeling nodded silently, and Teba turned to leave. "Don't say a thing," he muttered to Zelda as he passed. When she looked back, Tulin had huddled in close against the wall of the hideout, still sniffling.
They hiked in silence towards the Eastern camp as the snow began to fall; it came thick and fast, and soon Zelda could see no more than ten feet ahead. Teba himself all but disappeared, his white feathers the perfect camouflage against the snow.
"I'd like to know your plan," Zelda said as they crossed a natural stone bridge spanned the rushing rivers of Hebra falls.
All Teba said was, "Follow my lead."
"I've been doing that for a week." Zelda bristled, but Teba said no more. As they neared the camp, he did not slow down, marching steadfastly towards the camp boundary.
"Teba!" Zelda whispered. "What—"
"Follow. My. Lead." The Rito repeated, and Zelda had no choice but to hurry through the snow to keep pace. The Hylian guards noticed the advancing duo and drew their feathered Rito swords, shouting for Teba and Zelda to halt.
Teba raised his wings to the air, and Zelda followed. "I've got business with one of your men," Teba called out.
"Who'd that be?" one of the Hylians called back, his sword pointed in their direction.
"Yahn," Teba answered. "Rito Warrior. Black feathers. Kind of a smart-ass."
"You 'aven't got a scarf!" the second guard shouted. "We can't let you in without-"
"Stand down, men!" came a voice from behind the guards, and through the threshold emerged a Rito with jet-black feathers and a hooked orange and black beak. He was short for a Rito and stalked out past the retreating guards with one wing at his back, and the other in a sling. That's him, Zelda realised.
"Well, well," Yahn said, appraising the duo with a sly smile. "What have we here?"
The Rito Camp was little more than just that – a camp; a handful of tents inside a domed structure that was a twin to the one at the southern bokoblin camp, a single fire under a bubbling iron pot, all enclosed by a ring of sharpened tree trunks. Yahn stood before them with a broad-shouldered green-feathered Rito at his left and a smaller, blue-feathered female Rito who was blind in one eye to his right. The two Hylian guards stood behind Teba and Zelda during the audience, their swords still drawn.
"New apprentice?" Yahn said, taking stock of Zelda. I am Rowan, I am Rowan. Zelda is dead. Rowan lives. Zelda chewed her lip.
"What do you care?" Teba said with a grin. He was strangely relaxed, Zelda noticed. Casual. She didn't understand.
"You're right, I don't," Yahn sighed, the tension simmering between them regardless. "Why are you here, Teba?"
The warrior shrugged. "Heard Rylen mention you," He nodded towards the green-feathered Rito. "Thought I'd come find you. See what you're up to. Learn more about this new cause of yours."
Yahn rolled his eyes. "Try again, teacher. We both know that's not why you're here."
Teba drew back, shooting Zelda a nervous glance. And then he scowled, his casual façade dropped. "Go on then, Yahn. Why do you think I'm here?"
Yahn's stern expression didn't falter; if this Rito had learned anything from Teba, it seemed to be that distinctive, marbled expression somewhere between anger and disappointment. "You'll never let it drop, will you?" He looked to Zelda. "Does she know? Has she even told you who she is?"
Zelda swallowed her shock and donned the mask like armour. "My name is Rowan," she said, lips quivering. "I'm a bard from Necluda."
Yahn stepped forward and squared up to her. He leant in so close that she could feel his breath, brows raised. "Really now? Is everyone at Rito Village really as stupid as they seem, or are you actually not the Princess?"
She flinched, starting backwards, and from behind her she heard the Hylian guards shift across the snow-strewn dirt, their mail jangling under the movement. "I'm Rowan," Zelda repeated, her mouth suddenly dry.
"I'll bet," Yahn laughed, a wicked grin crossing his face. "A Hylian girl, travelling with Teba? I know my teacher well. He doesn't just mentor anyone."
"Clearly at one point I exclusively mentored idiots," Teba spat. "The hell would I travel with the Princess for?"
"I don't know," Yahn admitted with a shrug. "Cinna will be happy either way."
The victory stung; Zelda had been right that Yahn was working for Cinelgen, but all it meant was that the Gerudo's reach had extended even further across Hyrule. Zelda bit her lip to stifle the anger, Rhoam's words in her mind. Never show your enemy contempt. Never show that they have affected you.
"What are you doing for him?" she asked quietly, refusing to crumble under Yahn's stern gaze.
"Lots of things. Managing operations. Capturing a beast. Searching for you. Ah – one less task on the list!" He gave Zelda a discordantly gleeful look and turned back towards Teba.
"And really, you wanted to join us, but had your son wait behind? Leaving him at the southern camp? I knew you were a bad liar but—"
"What have you done with Tulin?" Teba demanded, surging forward. The Rito and Yahn's side drew their weapons – twin Rito bows – and each nocked an arrow.
"Nothing. Rylen and Orli here just spotted you walking in that direction, and now I see you're here without him." Yahn motioned to his Rito companions. "We've been waiting for you."
Yahn then turned to Rylen. "Has someone been dispatched to fetch this uh—Tulin, is it?"
"They have," the broad-shouldered Rito nodded, and with a furious snarl, Teba became a blur as he drew his bow and loosed an arrow squarely at Yahn.
His former apprentice dodged, and the camp electrified. Rylen loosed an arrow towards Teba, as did the blue-feathered Rito named Orli, but Zelda raised her hand just in time, and the arrows snapped against a light barrier that she erected between them.
To her right, Yahn was howling with laughter. "There she is!" he cried, eyes fixed on the Royal Crest on her hand.
Teba leapt to his left, dodging arrow fire and evading the pursuing Hylian guards. "Tulin!" he shouted at Zelda, and wasting not another second, he launched himself skyward, with Rylen and Orli in pursuit. Zelda turned, and bolted through the snow, drawing her Sparrow bow as she ran. The Hylian guards loped through the snow after her, reaching for their own bows.
Above, Teba was soaring towards the south, dipping and rolling through the air as he dodged arrow fire from the pursuing Rito. Hands shaking and breath haggard, Zelda nocked an arrow into her bow and loosed it back towards the Hylian guards. It missed, disappearing into the snow without a sound. She drew another, yelping as an arrow whizzed past her face. As she rounded the stone bridge, she leapt over another volley of arrows and turned south towards the second bokoblin camp once she had crossed the river. Fighting panic, she nocked the second arrow. Zelda turned once again, taking a second to line up the shot. The forest was rushing towards her. She loosed the arrow, and almost cheered when it tore through the closer Hylian's chest.
The trees were thick around her then, but beyond she caught a glimpse of the shimmering blue lake that preceded the Hebra Plunge. Zelda looked skywards, and saw only two Rito above her; the green-feathered Rylen and the blue-feathered Orli. And then, half camouflaged against the snow, she caught sight of something plummeting from the sky.
Zelda watched in horror as Teba crashed down through the trees, pines and broken branches raining down to the snow.
Above she heard Rylen calling something down to them. "Pull back!" he was saying. "Come here! Take these!" And Zelda realised he was not addressing her but rather the remaining Hylian behind her. She looked back and saw the guard slow his steps, and retreat. The still airborne Rito were swooping down towards the trees. Teba had fallen in a heap at the edge of the forest, but he was alive.
"We're almost there!" Zelda said as she helped him to his feet. "Can you fly?"
"No," he winced. "But nothing's broken." When he stood, Zelda saw that his wings were bloodied and torn, a broken arrow rising out of the feathers. "C'mon, we need to reach Tulin." he urged, and they continued down the path towards the camp. Through the haze of the snow, the southern bokoblin camp had begun to emerge, as had the sound of the roaring Hebra plunge.
As they hobbled forward, Zelda looked back through the trees. Rylen, Orli and the remaining Hylian had regrouped and were advancing on foot. When they saw her, they surged forward, nocking strange, bulbous arrows into their bows that rained sparks down into the snow, and Zelda became aware of the sound of a quiet hiss. Bomb arrows.
"Teba!" she shrieked. "RUN!"
The first arrow flew past Zelda's face, connecting with a tree that exploded in front of them in a shower of sparks and splinters. Together, she and Teba leapt over the fallen trunk. The second landed behind them and sent a wave of heat searing across the back of Zelda's neck. And the third thankfully soared past them, out over the cliff that led down to the Hebra Plunge.
Cresting the final hill before the southern bokoblin camp, Teba and Zelda scrambled down the path that skirted the edge of the cliff. Zelda tried, and failed, not to look at the lake below, the sound of the Hebra Plunge filling the air. Faintly in the distance, she spied two Rito; an adult, grey of feather and slim, hauling a small white fledgeling from the bokoblin camp.
"Tulin!" Teba roared, and he bolted forwards along the path.
Zelda's chest burned, as did the Royal Crest on her right hand, reignited when she had raised a light barrier to protect Teba at Yahn's camp. She felt herself slowing, unable to keep pace, panting and shouting with a hollow voice for Teba to wait. But he was too far ahead now.
She looked back one last time and saw that Rylan had drawn another bomb arrow. The snow was falling in her eyes. The air was frozen. There was nothing to do but watch.
Zelda watched as Rylen loosed the arrow towards them. She watched as the arrow tore past her, whistling and hissing, the sparks drawing a bursting, shimmering line through the air. And she watched as the arrow landed at Teba's feet, the explosion launching him up and over the precipice, down to the lake below.
She tried to cry out, but she couldn't even scream. Her voice was gone. Tulin was shrieking for her, calling for his father as the grey-feathered Rito dragged him away from the camp. Zelda looked down at the lake and saw Teba's limp body floating towards the roaring Hebra plunge. Behind her, the bandits in pursuit were readying another round of arrows. Zelda felt her limbs seize; her throat clam up with fear; her aching legs beg for her to keep moving forward. But she couldn't.
Dammit, Teba.
Zelda skidded to a stop. Deftly, as Link had taught her, she raised a shield in front of her pursuers. Rylen, Orli and the Hylian guard all smacked into the shimmering barrier one after the other, landing hard against the ground, their arrows broken and bows forgotten. And then, cursing under her breath, she turned towards the cliff, towards the shimmering lake and the thunderous Hebra plunge – towards the Rito Warrior who would lose his life if she did not make this choice - and she leapt.
Don't look. Don't think. Just fall.
I'm screaming, but where's my voice? Water in my mouth. Ice against my skin. Goddess, Goddesses, this cold! I can't swim! Damn you, Teba, where are you? Goddess damn you.
Heavy. I'm so heavy. I can't think, only feel. I'm afloat. And there you are! I can see you, Teba. I can reach you; I can, I can, I can. Link would, so I must. Just a little further, kick, kick, arm over arm. Just a little further…
I've got you. I've got you! There's my voice! I've got you, Teba! Are you alive? Please be alive! Hold onto me. We're going to fall. I can swim, but I can't fly, and now neither can you. Here it comes. Can you hear it? That's the Plunge.
You're a fool, Teba. Walking into that camp. Leaving your son behind. A big fool. But I've got you. I've got us both. We'll land in the water. We'll land on the rocks. We'll land hard, but I can protect us. Here we go. Don't look, Teba. Just fall.
A/N: We're back with weekly updates! Thank you all so much for your kind reviews and patience. The plot is beginning to hot up again, and the next few weeks are some of the most exciting in the whole work.