The Ravaging Winds, Part One

At once the shrieks stopped.

Kailinidred paced no more. His eyes to the door, his heart raced even more in anticipation. A bead of sweat poured down aged face as worrisome visions exacerbated his fears. And it grew as the minutes passed by.

What had happened to his young wife?

At once, the door flung open and a manservant sped past the king, oblivious to the man's presence, as he headed to the doctor's bedroom. Again he came out a second later, now with a vial of some sort in his hand, and rushed his small body back into the King's bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Kailinidred pressed his ear to the wood to overhear any conversation, but all of it was muffled.

Then he heard footsteps from the other side of the door, coming closer. In contempt, the King grabbed the knob and thrust open the door to face whoever came closest. He demanded an answer, gods dammit.

"WHAT?" Kailinidred demanded to the incomer. To his surprise, it was the doctor, who cradled a child in her arms, asleep and bloodied from newbirth. The same manservant then sped out of the room again, vanishing down the corridor.

The doctor, an old woman with heavy wrinkles upon her face, stared blankly at her king from his exclamation. Taken aback, she reclaimed her composure: "U-uh, sire. Your child is born. It is a boy."

Kailinidred, himself taken aback by his own rudeness, and looked down at what was his son. His only son.

His sleeping son.

His heart continued racing, now driven by panic. "What ails him? Is he ill?"

"Nay, milord!" she replied quickly, trying to calm her lord. "Nay, not dead. Not dead but… tha, sleeping…" she looked down at the child, shamed and confused.

Kailinidred peered over the woman's shoulder. There he saw his wife on the bed, herself now asleep from her labor. She was a young soul, beautiful and mature even for a child. Her slender face shined of sweat and toil in the candlelight held by the maid, Ba'ene. Nevertheless, his queen survived the birthing.

But next to her, cradling her and soothing her with gentle words and strokes to her cheek, that foul, conniving witch of a mother, Gamela.

"Sir, your son," the doctor prodded. "He is fine. He made no cry as ere he came out. He did see his mother, and then passed into slumber by his own will. It marvels me, milord."

Since all was supposedly well, Kailinidred saw fit to then motion for the doctor to give the boy to him. "Sire, I would not have a newborn cradled in metal," she said, which motioned Kailinidred to take off his gauntlets. Then she gently transferred the boy to the will of Kailinidred, who suddenly felt discomforted, as if the child was heavier than he seemed. The doctor gave a short sigh as if relieved.

"Is he healthy at this weight?" the king asked.

"He seems to, but that halts no fear to my theories."

"Theories?"

"Fret not, milord, the boy is healthy," the doctor waved away.

"Healthy is this, you say?" the king said, questioning her judgment.

"Y-yes, sire," she spoke further. She twitched her neck impulsively, her eyes darting askance a moment. "Oh but, please, milord, will you not be content that an heir is born—a male heir at that!"

Kailinidred looked to his boy, who then uttered a cute murmur in his sleep. Such a gentle creature, whose soft features somehow swayed the king's growing suspicions of danger. His body naked and swathed in garments was, however, strong and his weight contributed to display such firm foundations. He bore his striking nose and his strong jaw, and from his mother the child inherited her pristine skin. But again, something was off.

"His skin, it does seem discolored particularly around the neckline…" inquired the King.

"Tha, he does a bit…" the doctor examined the very area, herself puzzled.

"Birthmark?"

"I would have to say so."

"Are you not pleased with such product, Kailinidred?" spat a voice in indignation. Gamela had suddenly appeared right beside the doctor, her strange face wrenched in disgust. Her skin was twisted like leather, darkened through the labor of her ancestors and the expense of the sun. Aside form her age, she moved with grace and elegance, as if she owned the air, her thin thobe wavering as she moved so. Embroidery garlanded her scarlet hair, allowed to hang loosely about her shoulders to her backside. Her nose was small and pointed, like a birds beak.

"Why must you puzzle over the intricacies which bear no fault?" spoke Gamela in retort.

Fury rose in the king's throat. "My son had better be healthy, woman. He is the only male heir to me, and he must be fit to lead."

"Oh counfound it, Kailin!" she said, sneaking her fingers into Kailinidred's arms and stealing the boy away. "Let matters be and be proud. Now, be happy this child survived your past fruits and welcome him to this world." She then started swaying to nurture the child.

Kailinidred clenched his fist as hard as he could, his gloves scrunching at his grip.

At once, the manservant returned, now with the priestess.

Gamela smiled. "Ahh, Morsean, you come time-like," and she moved towards the priestess with the boy.

Kailinidred remained quiet. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and looked to see the doctor hanging about his side, trying to pull him to look towards his wife. At once, his anger lessened, and he let loose his grip.

Morsean was as old as the doctor, although in more refined garments in violet and linen. Her a linen cloth covered her face but her crimson eyes bore the mark of her character. Her crimson hair was tied back in a ponytail that hung behind her slender backside. Morsean was the oversere of priestesses in the castle, although she herself was considered a pupil of Gamela.

"Alzoh, matriarch!" Morsean spoke in blessing to the queen's mother, with honor and respect as if to a superior. "It is a blessed evening that a boy is born in our lands again!"

"Praise Ordona!" Gamela exclaimed. "But someone fails his duties in naming his progeny…" she gave an expectant bat of the eye to the king, showing such form of humor to him intentionally.

Kailinidred scowled at her feigned use of friendliness. "I was close to that," he retorted antagonistically. "But my concern was for my son's health."

Morsean gasped, "Is the boy not well?"

"OH do not listen to my son-in-law, his worries are ill-founded," Gamela said. "Now, both of you, come to the basin with me, and we will get on with his birth!"

The king and priestess followed the mother to the water basin, which was set on the desk under the window to the right of the bed. The mother stood right before it, while the king stood to her right and the priestess to her left.

"Should you not stand to the left, mother-in-law?" Kailinidred asked confusedly.

"Ach, no, just do as the ceremony entails," spat Gamela.

"Mmm, sure…" mumbled the king.

The priestess then took a satchel that hung from her belt and poured a portion of it into the basin, and then took a vial of water from the same belt and poured it in.

"Here is given a basin, in which we make water and frankincense together to bless our noble heritage," the priestess spoke as if from scripture. "For a king is washed clean and baptized in such manner."

And thus Gamela carefully laid the child in the water, who remained dormant. She washed him from head to toe.

"O King, witness as thine son is made fresh against the world of sin," the priestess continued.

"May he be clean before the Gods," uttered Kailinidred.

"O King, see that he is refined to lead thine people."

"May he be worthy before his people."

"O King, see that he is strong and palpable before his enemies."

"May he drive away our errant foes."

Then the mother dried him in the same garments as he was swathed in, and then cradled him more.

"Know this, ye Man, that your son is a gift from the Gods. Your people know few of such kind, but we acknowledge that only a man may command us," the priestess carried on.

"I see that my responsibilities have been noble and ethical in Nayru's judgment, and that I carry forth Faroré's order with gratitude to the same."

"And swear that your son follow the same standards."

"Tha, he will."

Then the priestess took another vial and turned it over against her thumb. She reversed the motion and then imprinted her thumb against the boy's forehead to leave a red mark.

"This mark allows the God Aene, King of the Gods, to peer into this boy's soul and refine him for duty. I do this in hopes that Aene may bless your efforts to raise him. But tha also, we make this mark so that the boy himself may see back into this realm. And by this, he may know holiness and seek to abide by it. He shall be king, and must be the greatest."

"Tha, he will know fear. He will know beauty. He will know perfection. By these, he will know leadership, honesty, purity, and fairness."

"Tha, it will be so then." Then the priestess kissed the child. "Alzo, what do you call this child?"

"I name him Mannidre—"

"No, no, Kailin," spat the old woman. "I will name this child."

"Excuse me?" fumed the king.

The mother drew a spiteful smile. "I will name this child. Learn to hear, my king!"

And Urodred, again, found himself helpless to counter.

"Ahh. Then, what name ye this child?" asked Morsean.

"Amaradred. He is the lord of tomorrow," Gamela declared.

"Then by the blessing of almighty Ordona, who sees all time and futures, I bless this child Amaradred mag'Kailinidred Meleg ih'Gerudo. May he be clean the toll of his days, be just in his choice of tomorrow's course, and be feared by his enemies."

"So say we all," spoke all present, save the queen who remained asleep.

Gamela kissed Amaradred on his head so tenderly, just above Aene's mark. "Such a treasure! Oohhh, how I remember the days when Musheena, your mother, was just a babe... well, as innocent as you are, I pray this to be deception. I hope you are cruel and merciless."

"His inspiration is abound in this room, mother superior," spat Kailinidred. "Now, let me hold my son and present him to my troops."

Gamela paused. "Oohh, so impatient," she as she gave the boy to the king, shirking off his demanding tone. The king felt the baby's mysterious weight again, forcing him to hunch over to carry him. But oh well, such is the weight of life, the weight of parenthood he had long waited for. For so long, Kailinidred had lost so many to Tun's fate. Nayru had cursed him more than any other king before him, so much to have no heir at all. But not now. The Gods had rewarded his pain, his loss, and his endearment to those children before Amaradred. They had given him a son! Praise be to Farore!

"Koam," he beckoned the manservant. The man bowed his head as he jumped to his side. "Keep me company as I walk these halls," the king spoke as he moved forward.

"Tha, sire," spoke the man.

Kailinidred looked over to his wife who remained asleep, beautiful even in her composure. He looked at Ba'ene, who remained standing with a candle, fearfully averting her eyes to avoid looking at him. He looked at the priestess who seemed pleased by all.

He looked at Gamela, who seemed to know it all. They had always been sour with each other, but pity seemed to glower in her soul for the king.

Kailinidred scoffed and walked away, the manservant tailing behind him.

As they came about the corner of the hallway, the he spoke further: "Koam, you will watch this boy in my absence."

"Tha, sire."

"Train him. Teach him. Keep him safe. I will be gone."

"Tha, sire?"

"By the jackal's hour tomorrow morn, I lead these troops to war. I must contend against their empire, or my people will perish. You were not born in this realm, you know not, but come the time of your old years and you will feel my sorrow for living in this keep, this fortress in the sand... this prison. I must meet these prison-keepers on the battlefield. When the battle is met, I will begin my journey to the Void to see my dear sister again."

"Must it be the Void? Surely she walks amongst the restful in the plains of Taivas."

"Nay, my family is spiteful to the Gods. Although Farore gave me life tonight, Nayru condemns the rest of my kin tomorrow. I pray I see my loved ones, even if in the twilight."

"I hope it not, sire. You are a good king."

"Yes. I am…" a note of sadness hung in his voice. "…for some..."

The manservant kept silent for a moment. "But oh! A son. At last, one that lives!"

"Tha…"

Another corner, and two soldiers waited for him next to an open causeway leading onto a wide balcony. One, arrayed in violet garments of the common soldier with a lance in her hand, stood quickly to attention and her head level to her shoulders. The other, in more complex garments and without a cloth across her face, was Kajad the commander of the guard. She stood to attention simultaneously.

"Sire!" they spoke.

"At ease," spoke the king, and the soldiers relaxed.

"Sire," spoke Kajad. "The host is formed to witness the good news."

"Bring the host to attention."

She clicked her heels in attention and stepped onto the balcony. As she called the assembly to attention, Kailinidred brought his son to his lips and kissed him on his forehead. He then whispered into the child's infant ears:

"O boy, I did call you Kuriya in the womb that you may embolden our people to forget the past as you emboldened your mother to carry thee. I ask ye to follow your own judgment. Be arrogant. Be ignorant if you must. Take your own counsel in all matters. Respect Koam…"

Kajad turned around on the balcony to face Kailinidred. The king nodded, prodding her to step off. As he stepped onto the balcony, the night air coarsely beat him in the face, a remnant of the dead, his ancestors scratching at him from the depths of the desert. Spite ruled supreme in the desert, and forever tormented Kailinidred all his life. If the sand had a soul, it too was cursed to be alive and bitter to the Gerudo so that it may deliver judgment for its own sadness.

"I ask this of you," he spoke to Kuriya. "Please, keep the wind off our back. Find peace in a land far away from our hellish existence out here. All glory fleets forever from the hand of thieves, for none may counter the worth of the previous glory we took..."

Before him, thousands of soldiers formed in the sand beneath him. Their numbers spanned from the very steps of the castle almost two miles out into the desert itself. These were the members of 4th host. He would lead them to Hyrule tomorrow.

"…and for all intents and purposes…beware your evil mother."

Then he hoisted his sun above his head, and lo! wind breezed into the valley. It was new, not driven by the winds of the desert, and instead it was fresh from the mountains behind the fortress. Such a wind had not been felt in near two hundred years, not since King Ordred delivered the head of Prince Hilrogax of Calamar, the first oppressor, whose death meant the advancement of the Gerudo. This wind! It brought the memories of history, of victory. All beheld the majesty of King Kailinidred, and they witnessed the blessing of the wind as if Farore herself blew it down to Gaia.

And Kailindred spoke in a triumphant voice: "BEHOLD! AMARADRED, MY SON, YOUR ONCE AND FUTURE KING!"

At once the The entirety of 4th host cried out in joy, raising their lancers and weaponry and shouting his son's name.

Kailinidred saw only death but days away. He prayed his son may never see death, or be controlled by anyone else, or ever be told to do against his will.

"He is gone?" her daughter Queen Musheena asked, looking out the stone casing of her bedroom window.

Gamela rocked back and forth in her chair, cradling Amaradred and playing with his nose which amused the child immensely. "Tha, your husband left this morning with the rest of his troops."

"And he will return?" Musheena mused, looking out her window and seeing nothing but desert. Her hair sparkled in the sunlight as it swathed her beauty. The regalia of the queen, a grand ruby encrested upon her forehead, and other jewelery attached to her earlobes and the length of her hair complemented her status, as did the fine red linen of her dress that draped loosely around her body as if to conceal her body.

"I daresay no," Gamela then began fanning her own face; it had become intensely hot this morning. "Your king is a horrible tactician, and is far worse a man for following with his plan. What sense is it to attack Hyrule? They have the advantage, even if they're at war with everyone else. Ha, ha, who would have thought: Hyrule, an empire!"

"I thought it was a good idea."

The mother stopped rocking. "What?"

"I inclined Kailin to make the choice. I told him it was best for our kingdom." Musheena seemed cool and unaffected by the heat. No beads of sweat or fatigue had brought down her character.

"To die needlessly? That was your idea?" Gamela inquired.

"I told him he was not going to be a good father," Musheena continued. "Kailin was a wonderful husband, but… I could not suffice to have him around any longer. My boy has a special future."

"…well, even so, waging war with Hyrule was a dumb matter anyway."

"I put him up to it."

"…and to—?"

"Yes. He arranged the executions of those villagers. Yes, I told him to instigate this war."

"…is this the world your son will inherit?"

"My son will create a new world, mother!" she turned to face her mother, excitement in her eyes, and she rushed forward and knelt at Gamela's feet. "Oh mother, I have held so many secrets from you to this point, I feel so ecstatic to tell you everything!"

"What secrets, child… what secrets do you have?" the mother held Amaradred closer to her breast, cautiously.

"Oh, mother, in time. In time!" then Musheena let a calming sigh. "Alas, little Amar has so much to learn in his time."

"Learn of what, child? You speak in great riddles!" the mother demanded shakily.

Queen Musheena smiled widely. "Do you remember Ost en'Ordona when you used to take me there? When you were training me to be a priestess to follow your footsteps?"

"…what about it?"

"I met someone there who told me everything. She told me the truth about our ancestors and how they really came to be outcast."

"They were outcast because they feared the wrath of the Gods in the time of Akron."

Musheena's eyes widened in horror. "Blasphemy, mother! How dare you speak such lies of... of our people!"

"But it's true, child! Your ancestor Bàn was a dishonorable thief who persuaded Gerudo to begin this strife with the world!"

"No, mother, that's not what she said…"

"Pardon me, child? What? Haha! You say you spoke with mother Bàn? What, a spirit that actually dwells in that temple. Honestly, my dear, that is all myth-"

"No, no, not Bàn…" Musheena muttered, looking away and musing over her words. Her voice became raspy, entirely different to own voice.

Dread clouded the mother's mind. "…no… no, not her."

Then her daughter looked up, and she gasped. Musheena's eyes bore two alternate colors: red and blue.

Gamela gasped, her face filled with horror, and she kicked the doppelganger square in the chest to jump out of her seat and head straight for the door. But at once, it shut by some force of nature and locked itself. She turned, and the specter of her daughter stood right there just feet away.

"Give me this boy," Musheena spoke, and she stole Amaradred from Gamela's clutches. The old witch fought to claim him back, but her snatches were too slow to grab with.

"How! How could… you have not—"

"Nay," the person that was not her daughter spoke with the child in her arms, cradling him gingerly. Amaradred simply looked up at her in wonder. "Your daughter lives on as a prisoner in this body. I have overcome her will and claimed her mind. Oh, do not worry, Gamela, she willfully turned over her body to me. She felt it was right that I have a place in her son's future. She just couldn't bear the thought that a young woman such as herself could raise a king!"

The mother remained speechless. Horror and awe combined, she spoke naught.

The stranger chuckled. "Oh do say something. Show some effort, woman, you shouldn't be shocked by seeing a spirit. Well, then again, it it's me we're talking about..."

"You are the witch of the temple, the ancient one of the deep. My grandmother told me of you, but I did not want to believe!"

"You are foolish to discourage the warnings of your elders, when they know much when you still know so little."

"I may be foolish. I was afraid to go into those depths. But how did my daughter go so far? I... I thought my own magic dispelled all the spirits from finding interest."

"Yes, those spirits. Not me. In any case, you are a weak priestess, and always have been. I am surprised you could not sense that something was amiss with your only daughter! Oh well, it can't be helped. Her youth and spirit were profound enough anyway to sense anyway, no magic spell could hide that from my nose. She travelled down into the depths of the temple, heeding my call to her. She found counsel with me, and she would visit me when her husband was away or when you did not notice her gone. Oh, she gave herself to me after she laid with her husband, afraid and worrisome. I said, worry not. Of your son, I will manifest a god!"

"I can sense your evil, Tugrab. It hurts to be near thee."

"Evil?" the spirit in the daughter glared. A loud snap cracked the air and at once her face was pressed to Gamela's, forcing the old woman against the door. This Tugrab glowered so close that the mother was forced to look deep into her colored eyes, one which flourished in fiery flame as hot as the sun while the other was still and emanated a horrible chill.

"What is evil but desperation to right a wrong?" Tugrab muttered. "I was a servant to the Gods, but I saw their errors and I exploited them. I proved that there was a flaw in their creation, and what did they do? They cast me out of Taivas. Of heaven! To be robbed of that glory, of that wonder... you know nothing of evil, or of loss, witch."

The mother's only thought was to Amaradred. Somehow he had vanished from Tugrab's possession. But those eyes made her quiet.

"Tell me, Gamela, have you lost everything, or cursed for centuries?"

"…I have lost much... but little to the weight of your sadness, O Tugrab."

Tugrab smiled. "Well, woman, rejoice." A snap cracked, and she appeared feet away with the boy Amaradred cradled in her arms. "Your daughter is possessed by a most powerful entity this world has seen for a long time, and she has devised a plan for your boy. I will raise him to be powerful, strong… he will be cruel, yes, but he will be respected. And he will rule Hyrule in his time. He must."

"You ancient beings are so bitter against the world… are sacrifices and praises not enough to appease you?"

"If it had worked, I would have asked you to sacrifice yourself right now. But, alas, the blood of innocents has lost its bite."

"…so what will be done with me?"

Tugrab looked up from the child to the witch, who at once felt the chills and horror of what may come to be.

"…meh," sputtered Tugrab. "I'll let you live. A child must have his grandmother. To preserve that family structure you mortals pride yourselves over… I guess you earn that much to stay alive for."

Gamel just stood there, back against the door, afraid to make another movement.

Tugrab waltzed over to the window with Amaradred. She started uttering loving words and cutesy sounds to him which made him laugh and giggle.

"Oh look, there goes a platoon, O Amar. You'll command those soon enough, won't you? Ahhhh…" she made a sigh, as if refreshed, feeling her face as if it were new to her. "You know, Gamela, as a woman, I oft wander what it would be like to be king of thieves… to be that phantom that creeps in the shadows… it is not enough just to feel my skin for the first time in centuries."

Gamela spoke nothing.

A warm breeze gushed into the bedroom. Gamela felt its spiteful slap in her old face, and shuddered. But Tugrab, she giggled and sighed at the feel of it. Relishing it, almost.

Tugrab shrugged. "So much work."