Evil's Bane
Milk Run
They were riding, as they had been for a few hours now, the morning sun blazing to their right and an expanse of tall grass and trees to their left.
Talon sat at the front of the cart, stirrups clutched tight in both hands. Steering the cart was a task requiring minimal effort, since the horses pulling were smart enough to follow the well-trodden dirt path. For the most part, all he did was to stare straight ahead, occasionally bringing the horses back on track, all the while staring at some fixed point in the distance and thinking of completely irrelevant things.
Link, meanwhile, sat perched atop several milk barrels, legs dangling over the side of the cart. The sun was at his back and so he just stared out into the countryside, being alternately entranced and bored by the scenery. At the back of his mind he had the nagging feeling that he'd been cheated out of twenty minutes' extra sleep.
Since today was a milk run day, they would be walking among town people, who (no doubt) would be out in numbers, in the huge throngs which Link had come to associate with Castle Town. He had no idea how so many people were able to live together in such close quarters. Of course, he knew they'd all just accept it as matter of course, but there was something both frightening and liberating about the anonymity which those crowds hinted at. When nobody knows you, you feel like you can get away with anything.
On the flip side, no doubt everyone would be giving them looks just 'cause they weren't from town. As such, Link had made an effort to look presentable. Specifically, he'd switched the sweaty, mud-stained linen undershirt he'd been wearing for the past week for a new slightly-starchy white linen one. He'd also spent about ten seconds going through the motions of untangling his not-short-enough brown-blond hair, and – on an impulsive decision he was beginning to regret – he'd even pulled on a cheap green-dyed cotton tunic he hadn't noticed before on top of his other clothes to make it look as if he wore unnecessary amounts of clothing all the time, like he'd noticed a lot of city people did. Already, the tunic felt as if it was digging into him around the stomach, and, now that the sun was up, the extra warmth was becoming uncomfortable. Too late to take it off, though; he'd already committed to wearing it.
"Bored back there, kiddo?" said Talon from up front.
Link jumped slightly, realising that they'd been travelling in silence for the last half hour at least. He decided that right now, riding out in the open, he preferred the silence.
"No," he said, "I'm fine."
For a moment Talon didn't say anything, and Link thought he might have successfully cut the conversation off, but then–
"Nemia mentioned to me," Talon added, "that there was some plants or something she wanted from town."
There was clearly an implicit question there, and Link knew he should answer it, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He kept staring into the distance, and hopefully Talon would think he hadn't heard.
"…right?" added Talon.
No choice now. "Mmm," he mumbled noncommittally.
"She said you knew what they were," said Talon.
"Yes," said Link. "She made me memorise a whole list of 'em yesterday; took forever." The moment the words came out of his mouth he regretted it – now who was trying to prolong the conversation?
Talon chuckled. "Sounds like my girl." He tugged at one of the reins, gently nudging the horses left. "Don't know what you see in her."
"No idea what you're talking about," said Link, remembering why he'd been trying to avoid conversation to begin with.
"Of course not," said Talon, and Link could tell he was smiling just from his tone of voice. "Don't take this wrong, but you're far too young to be falling head over heels with every girl your age you can get your hands on. I know what that's–"
"What's that supposed to mean, every girl my age?" said Link, peeved.
"Link, you live on my farm," chuckled Talon. "Who else do you know besides me and my girls, eh?" He laughed again. As if there was anything remotely funny about it.
Link sighed angrily, decided resolutely to ignore anything else Talon said until they got to Castle Town, and then stared out at the passing scenery with a renewed intensity. To his relief, Talon seemed to have run out of things to say, and so there was nothing to distract him.
Now and then (and this was one of those times), Link wondered what his life would be like if that horse hadn't kicked his father's head in when he was barely old enough to walk. Most likely, they'd probably have kept moving with his father, from farm to farm and town to town, never settling in as a farmhand or a street-sweeper, always wandering, always changing. A very different life than the one he had, yes, but maybe a better one, because surely his father would have been better than Talon at bringing him up. As it was, Link could barely remember his father's face, though Talon told him that these days there was a fair resemblance between dead father and growing son.
A wave of drowsiness hit him and he decided just to close his eyes for a couple of minutes to make it go away…
Sitting out here, on a balcony overlooking the castle walls, she could see most of Castle Town in all its daily humdrum. People ran back and forth through the crowded streets and winding alleys: tradesmen, merchants, housebound wives and children, craftspeople, all of them so distant from her vantage point, intangible. And yet even from here she could feel the throbbing of that clockwork society down there, separated from the regiment of the castle by one set of walls and from the beauty of the surrounding countryside by another.
Zelda was not down there, but she found it peaceful to observe and imagine she was there among the commoners – the normal people. Through her handheld spyglass she could see what they saw; if she listened hard enough she could make out what might have been the glorious cacophony of the crowds. If she wanted to, she could just slip straight into town wearing something less expensive; the guards always graciously turned a blind eye or two, and between her regular lessons in both courtesy and defensive magic, she doubted that she could get into any real trouble down there.
Right now, though, she was sitting up here, trying unsuccessfully to distract herself from the issue of her father. The main reason that she couldn't do this was that her cheek was still stinging from where her father had struck her. She was sure it was the first time he'd done something like that to her – the King was not a violent man, at least not in the safety of his own castle. Her father was different, that much was obvious, and she wasn't entirely certain that this was a temporary thing.
"What's wrong, father?" she muttered, and she realised that it was pointless to stand here, looking out from this balcony. She wasn't in the right mood to draw any comfort from other people's happiness. In fact, she could feel a familiar buzz in her veins which screamed think, think, think at her again and again, the same sort of feeling she got when her magic tutor tried to teach her an intricate spell or when her father's treasurer posed her a difficult mathematical problem. The feeling was neither painful nor pleasant, it just was.
So Zelda was in a thinking mood; now what was the problem she had to solve? Her father, obviously, and the way that he was acting now that Verdin was gone – but no, that wasn't true, His Majesty had been changing in that inexplicable way since before her brother was shuttled off to the Gerudos' desert. So that didn't really explain anything… Lingering obsession with her mother would explain the emotional swings. Poisoning, while sensible in theory, was such a romantic notion that she dismissed it straight away. Stress from some sort of political situation was possible, although what that might be was a mystery to her. Senility? Goddesses help Hyrule if that was the case. So many possible factors… so many potential solutions. She was going to have forgotten this by tomorrow, she realised. This was something she was going to want to have in writing.
Without having realised it she'd started walking while she thought, and she had to look around for a moment before realising she wasn't far from her bedroom. That would do; she'd have everything she needed in there.
Entering her room, she walked straight over to the small wooden desk that sat in the corner and pushed a stack of folklore books aside. Next she pulled out a sheet of blank writing paper and flattened it out on the desk, right in front of a full black inkwell. She dipped a brass pen into the ink, and stared at the piece of paper.
"Right," she said, and in large letters she wrote 'FATHER' in the middle of the sheet of paper. That was simple enough. Further down, she wrote 'ME' and 'VERDIN', so that the three names formed an equilateral triangle. Besides her brother's name she added a question mark because she wasn't sure if he was dead or not.
Two quick strokes of the pen and there was now an arrow running from her father to her brother. Besides it, she printed the words 'successor, legacy, responsible?' Recalling one of her other ideas, she added 'MOTHER' near the edge of the page, circling the name and drawing a line back to her father. Her mother was dead, her brother was possibly dead; she added the word 'again' to another line joining the first two. 'Senile?' went next to her father's name, with the question mark circled.
She dipped the pen in the ink again, and paused. The mad energetic feeling was still there, and now that she'd exhausted the obvious the more interesting ideas could be explored…
She lost track of time, as what had begun as a thought diagram for helping her father became an abstract, speculative map of the people whose decisions affected Hyrule on a daily basis. Arrows and circles floated between officials and a large blob of words with the label 'THE PUBLIC' appended to it. The links emanating from her brother and her father became more and more bloated, to the point where the lines shooting from them became an unruly tangle on the page. She hadn't connected her name to anything, because right now she thought she was neither influential nor impressionable. She could have drawn in the handful of tutors her father had employed, but right now they seemed irrelevant.
Right now there was barely enough room on the paper to write another word, and yet it was sparser than she would have liked, uncertainties and lack of information preventing her from making the annotations and shorthand symbols she wanted to.
Now that there wasn't enough room to add anything else, though, she could feel that invigorated mood fading, and she stared at the sheet of paper which now described considerably more than her father's recent ill temper – the bleak condition of Hyrule was described there, written both in words and between the lines.
What was the point of that?, she wondered, and she felt a hint of annoyance because at the time she'd been sure there was a very good reason for drawing that. There were no clear-cut answers here, just things she'd already known organised and ranked in importance. This wasn't going to help her father in its current form, and it certainly wasn't going to benefit Zelda in any way…
A knock sounded at the door to her room, and she glanced up from the desk to look. Her eyes stung slightly as she refocused them for the first time in a while.
"Yes?" she said, realising that she was thirsty and needed a drink.
"Zelda," said a man, his voice muffled through the door, "it is I, Cerdes." He was the head servant in the castle and was in charge of all housekeeping.
"What is it?" asked Zelda. "Is lunch ready?" She hadn't been here for that long, had she?
"Not yet," replied Cerdes. "May I come in, Zelda?" (Zelda had made a point of making the servants address her by name; it was less impersonal.)
"Certainly," she said; it wasn't as if she'd been doing anything wrong.
The door opened slowly and Cerdes took three steps into the room, standing stiffly.
"Princess… pardon me, Zelda, His Majesty has requested that you see him in his private quarters."
"Ah," said Zelda. Not particularly surprising. If the King was becoming more aggressive towards her, it made sense that he'd want to speak to her and try to justify what he'd done. No doubt it would all turn out to be her fault for stepping out of line or some other selfish explanation.
"Tell him that I'm busy right now, and would not like to be disturbed," she said, and it wasn't exactly a lie.
Cerdes nodded, a knowing smile showing on his wrinkled features. "As you wish – but I should add something before you decide. His Majesty said you would probably decline, and he wishes to apologise for something."
Zelda blinked. An apology? Pleasant, but unexpected. She'd figured that his temper would last at least the day like his bad moods had been known to. Maybe she'd been wrong…
"I'll talk to my father," said Zelda, glancing back at her sheet of paper.
"I shall go tell that to His Majesty," said Cerdes, misinterpreting her body language. He started to turn back–
"No, wait," said Zelda. "I'll only be fifteen seconds."
She snatched the pen, and hovered over her father's name where it stood in the middle of the web. She crossed out the phrase 'illness/poison?', and wrote the word 'inconsistent' in their place.
"May I ask what you are doing there?" said Cerdes from across the room.
Zelda already knew what she wanted to write, so she allowed herself to answer him. "Nothing important," she said. "Just drawing." Now, if she could just find… there it was. She circled the word 'senile?' for good measure, adding the words 'lack of control' beneath it, only just managing to squeeze them between her father's name and another mess of crisscrossing lines.
"I see," said Cerdes. "What exactly are you drawing?"
"I'm not quite sure yet," she said, drawing a straight line between her name and her father's. "But," she added, "it's taking shape."
On her father's end of the line, she wrote 'guilt?'. On her end of the line, she wrote 'opportunity'.
She stood up. "All right," she said. "I'm ready to see him now."
Link had just finished unloading the barrels at their last port of call. He'd dragged the barrel into a dusty old storeroom in a merchant's store house, returning outside to find Talon engaged in talk with the merchant in question.
"Oh, Link," Talon had said, "I'm just trying to fix a price for this man here. He's gonna resell our milk in the far parts."
Talon had then shooed him away after supplying him with more than enough money to keep him occupied for the next while.
Now Link was wandering down one of the main roads of Castle Town, drawing a map of the streets in his head so that he could find his way back later. He'd hoped to find a street vendor and buy a much-needed lunch, but looking at the crowds, it seemed that it would take forever for him to get anywhere near a food stall. Instead, he was scouting for a store that might sell the herbs and other unusual goods Nemia had requested.
Unlike the smaller towns in the kingdom, there were shops for everything in Castle Town, from the expected, like groceries and firewood, through to more ridiculous things such as shops that specialised in books or shoes. It was funny and frightening – funny because it was ridiculous that anybody could make a living selling such a narrow range of wares; frightening because they clearly did.
In his wanderings around town, only one interesting thing happened to him – well, not really to him, but he noticed it at the time and remembered it for a while to come:
A couple of minutes before he found the herbs in a side street, he passed two men talking in the street.
One of them was wearing an official-looking set of robes, talking carefully as if afraid to misspeak in the way that authority figures sometimes did. The other was a large, stocky man, clearly anxious about something.
There was a lot of hand-waving and accusation involved… interesting. This one little conversation was the closest thing to civil unrest Link had seen in this upbeat town, and it was that more than anything else that made Link stop and listen to them for a moment.
The official-looking man said, "The Guild can hardly do anything in the outer… short of having a man… every road in the kingdom." (Link couldn't hear every single word through the noise of the crowd, but there was enough there to get the gist of what they were saying.)
"Windows smashed!" said the larger man, waving his hands wildly. "Buildings collapsed and my nephew… every end of my town is in ruins… You can't just dismiss it like that!"
"I assure you… not dismissing it," the other replied. "We're busy right now after last week's arrests, but… have time… we'll find the responsible party and ensure that justice–"
"I already told you who it was!" the other said, raising his voice so that several other people in the area glanced in their direction. He seemed to notice this and dropped his voice again. "Almost everyone in town saw… wasn't trying to stay hidden…"
"Sir, I heard what you think you saw, and I've repor… to my superior, but for the last hundred, two hundred years, there's actually been… law against jesters in Hyrule. It can't–"
"I'm not lying!" said the bigger man, and for a moment it looked as if he was about to hit the man in robes. "We all saw…"
He glanced both ways and caught Link staring. Both of them lowered their voices. After a moments' pause, Link continued on his way, wondering what the upset could possibly have been.
Nowadays, Breakfoot Inn was all but empty at any time of day. It was becoming less and less common to see travellers passing through. Morrett, who ran the place, simply accepted this as the way things were – after all, he could hardly do anything about foreigners concerned about Hyrule's wartime troubles, or the spreading rumours that the rock monsters of the mountains attacked travellers on sight. It was simply a bad time to be running an inn hidden deep in the eastern mountain trails of the kingdom.
It was the middle of the afternoon and there were three people sitting in a bar area built to seat twenty – the most crowded it'd been in some weeks. He was grateful for this; every person who rented a room or ordered a drink was a godsend, leaving him with that extra bit of money with which to appease the merchants who still strayed this far out, keeping him and his aging parents and the inn alive. And so Morrett went to any lengths to squeeze that extra drop of income from each and every person who walked through the door.
Now, he placed down another two mugs of ale in front of one very drunk fellow who slapped a handful of Rupees onto the counter – never trust complete strangers, always get them to pay upfront – and he said politely, "Yer' drink."
"It's a work of art," the other fellow said, looking deliriously happy, and he grinned at Morrett. Whoever he was, he'd been in here for hours it seemed, and every now and then he burst into the occasional story about how he was going to go and slay the rock monsters of the mountains. He wasn't the first idiot to run blindly into the mountains and never return, but Morrett wasn't about to tell him that – paying customer, after all.
Morrett returned the smile with practised ease, sweeping the money into his palm and moving from one table to another, where a man and woman had just entered and sat.
"How can I help you, sir?" he said, stowing the money into a pouch on his belt, and throwing another pleasant smile at the man.
The man stared at Morrett – or more accurately, at his beard – blankly, as if he hadn't fully understood. The woman wasn't paying attention, and was eyeing the dusty, dim surroundings uncertainly.
Morrett held the smile for a couple of seconds, and then, seeing as neither of them seemed to plan on speaking, took a step back. "Well, if y'all need anything–"
"Goddesses! Pardon me." It was the woman who spoke, surprisingly. "I was distracted…"
"Yes, we've had a rough journey," the man said, jumping in, "and we really ought to get something now."
"Sure," said Morrett, slightly relieved. For a moment he'd worried they didn't speak Hylian. "I can get some chicken boiling or roasted if you're hungry…"
"No thanks," said the man and woman near-simultaneously. They glanced at each other and laughed. It occurred to Morrett that they looked similar; perhaps they were related?
The man went on: "No, we'll just have something to drink, for now…"
Morrett registered the 'for now' gratefully, but now he was discreetly scrutinising the appearance of the two. They both had light brown hair and blue eyes, and were wearing strange-looking clothes over typical light chain-mail. The man was fairly tall, with a triangular jaw and high cheekbones. Slung on his chair were what appeared to be a metal bow and quiver, but Morrett didn't pay too much attention to that since most travellers liked to keep themselves armed in case of bandits. The woman, on the other hand, had a lovely face (or perhaps he'd just been in the mountains for too long), her shoulder-length hair tied back roughly and her slim forearms protruding from her unusual clothing.
"…speaking of which, what do you have to drink?" the man added, and Morrett realised that they'd been waiting for him to say something.
"Oh, everything you'd expect in an out-of-the-way place like this," he shrugged. "Ale, mead, red w–"
The woman interrupted. "I wonder if… do they still make that specialty milk?"
Milk?, thought Morrett, but he kept his mouth shut.
"Make what?" said the man.
"That milk… the one that everybody drunk when they weren't allowed to be drunk… the expensive one," said the woman, waving her hands in the air as if grasping at straws.
"Oh, right," said the man, smiling, "that one… um, what was it? Lonsell? Lonley? Something like that."
"Right," said Morrett, recognising that. "I know the one you mean. I think I still have a barrel or two left. Stuff never goes off, right?"
"That's the one," said the woman, nodding. "Good memories with that stuff."
"Two of those for now," said the man.
"Coming right up," said Morrett. "You'll have to pay upfront, if you don't mind."
They didn't seem to mind, and so he moved into the back and scrabbled around for their drinks. He found a crate full of jars behind a wine barrel, and grabbed two jars, bringing them up to the counter. He could barely remember how much it had cost him, so he estimated a reasonable price and then doubled that in his mind.
With two glasses of milk in hand, he returned to that table, checking briefly on the inebriated swordsman on the way, and put the drinks down. "That'll be eighty."
The man raised an eyebrow, but started to count money.
Not very far away, the doors burst open, sending a bell ringing wildly, and four, no, five more people walked in.
"Be with ya!" Morrett called, still watching closely as the man counted out eighty Rupees. He greedily scooped up the money and stuffed it into his belt. There – safe. He looked up.
There were five people entering now, four men and a woman, and they all stood just inside the door, watching him.
"How can I help you?" said Morrett, though the little pessimist at the back of his mind already knew.
"Give us the money," said the largest of the newcomers.
Morrett noticed several things at once – firstly, these people were all armed, and they looked as if they'd done this before; secondly, his heart was starting to be painfully fast; thirdly, his hand had drifted to the money patch on his belt against his will; fourth, the drunk guy at the other table had suddenly sat up very straight, probably having decided to play hero. And for some inexplicable reason, the man and the woman who Morrett had just served seemed to find it all funny…
…well, it was funny. Their second day back in Hyrule and they were already running into trouble. And the fact that the new people were also trying to rob the joint made it all the funnier.
"By the Goddesses, we're being robbed," said Johannes, trying to suppress his smile in case the thieves got twitchy.
"Farore help us," whispered Scarlet mockingly, her hand pressed tightly over her mouth. "What in the world shall we do?"
"We had better just do what they say," Johannes whispered back with exaggerated despair.
Around them, a minor drama was unfolding.
"Please don't do this," the innkeeper was saying, holding up his hands. "I have my parents to think of. We can barely make do as it is."
"We don't care," said the apparent leader of the gang. He was large and stocky, and a very heavy-looking broadsword was slung over his back. "Give us the damn money or this won't gonna be pleasant for you." 'Bruiser' (as Scarlet silently named him) crossed his arms.
"I…" The innkeeper looked very pained, but he slowly reached for his belt.
"Now aren't you glad we didn't get real drinks?" said Scarlet quietly, gulping down her milk.
Johannes shrugged. "I say we switch targets for now. They probably have more on them than the inn does."
"Oh, sure," said Scarlet. "They don't look too threatening."
"They don't, do they? I'll bet you can handle them by yourself."
"You're on."
"Wonderful," said Johannes, leaning back lazily. "This is a good chair for somewhere so cheap."
Across the inn floor: "Check upstairs," said 'Bruiser', motioning to a staircase that led to the inn's guestrooms. "See if anything useful's lying around."
Two of the other thieves – a near-bald man carrying an axe, and the sole woman who had a crossbow slung over her shoulder – nodded and went up the stairs.
The innkeeper removed a leather pouch from his belt and held it out sadly. "Here," he said.
"Where's the rest?" said Bruiser, snatching it from him.
"In the back," said the innkeeper.
Before anything more could happen, a drunken bellow sounded from another end of the room.
"Stop, knaves!" cried the swordsman who had been sitting at the other table, climbing unsteadily to his feet. "You will not be robbing this inn today! I… I, Trevor the Bold, challenge you to…" 'Trevor' pulled out his sword, almost losing his balance.
The innkeeper stared at the swordsman blankly; Bruiser laughed, making a dismissive gesture with one hand, and the other two bandits moved towards the swordsman. One of them, wearing a red headband almost covering his eyes, pulled out a sword. The other, an older-looking man with a squint, was wholly unarmed.
"Mage?" wondered Johannes, indicating the latter.
"Probably," said Scarlet, standing up.
Squint and Headband rounded on the swordsman, who waved his weapon wildly, shouting, "Don't take another step!"
Headband swung at the swordsman, who ("Ha!" he cried) did a surprisingly effective job at parrying. Headband raised his eyebrows at this and began swiping at his opponent, alternating sides, but to no avail – drunk as he was, the other had retained enough survival instinct to block each of the incoming blows cleanly. After a few seconds, Headband broke it off, looking thoroughly annoyed. He retreated slowly back to where his boss stood.
"Din's sake, just kill him already," snapped Bruiser, although he seemed quite amused – it probably wasn't the first time the bandits had run into a would-be hero in the middle of a robbery.
"Ha! You see? You three aren't no match for me!" cried the swordsman, taking a triumphant step forward.
Squint raised both hands and shoved them forward, a look of concentration on his face. A ball of fire shot from his hands and hit 'Trevor the Bold' squarely in the chest. A hiss of grey smoke appeared and the swordsman staggered back, dropping his sword to claw at his own burnt flesh. He stumbled backwards, tripped, and fell back, hitting his head hard on the edge of his table.
"Oh my Goddesses," gasped Morrett, looking horrified.
Bruiser and Headband laughed like they'd seen it before. Squint stood there with a self-satisfied smile. Johannes remained in his chair, watching casually but one hand on his bow just in case things got serious. Scarlet was sauntering towards the mage.
Squint noticed her coming in the corner of his eye; he turned to face her and sneered, "What do you want, wench?"
Scarlet didn't stop walking and Squint's eyes narrowed.
"You burn with him!" he shouted and hurled another burning spell at her.
She was about fifteen feet away and closing, and from here it was obvious the mage's aim was terrible. Even so, she flicked a hand, thought a spell, and the fireball blew out in midair.
Squint was surprised but recovered quickly, creating more and more burning spells in the hope that one would get through. The two other bandits stood and watched dumbly.
Scarlet could tell that her opponent was amateur, what with the strain on his face as he performed the same spell over and over. Still walking towards him, she let her left hand continually bat off the stream of fireballs while with her right hand she made the symbol for a simple painful spell…
"Bang," she whispered unnecessarily, and for half a second a crackle of static electricity flew between both mages, delivering a nasty little jolt. Scarlet had been expecting this and kept walking, while Squint stood rooted to the spot, his burning spells forgotten. In Scarlet's peripheral vision, Bruiser and Headband had finally seemed to realise that their pet mage was in trouble, and they were starting to move towards her.
She began throwing a potpourri of offensive spells at Squint – fireballs, of course, glittering ice needles, rays of light and darkness, condensed balls of air – but Squint was scared now, his arms were covering his head, and a combination of magic and survival instinct made for an effective defensive spell.
Across the room, Johannes stood up, tugged at the innkeeper, and pulled him down into the seat; wouldn't want him getting in the way.
"What's your name?" asked Johannes.
Morrett appeared to be in a state of shock. His lips were moving but he couldn't seem to form the words.
Johannes shrugged. "Drink," he said, pushing a glass of lukewarm milk across the table.
Scarlet was getting tired of Squint's sudden adrenaline-fuelled invulnerability. She was standing so close that she could almost touch him, and he was visibly using every last drop of energy in him to stay alive like the uncontrolled amateur he was – and yet somehow he was still standing. Lucky him. In another ten seconds she'd probably break through his magical barrier and swat him like a fly, but the two goons with swords would reach her first. She raised her left hand to her face, and dropped her right hand to her waist, palm-up.
"Change of tactics," she said to nobody in particular, and hit Squint in the face.
Whatever kind of spell the idiot was casting, it proved very ineffective against that, and he stumbled back with a broken nose. Just to be sure, she hit him again, this time with the side of her hand, and Squint dropped to the ground with a collapsed windpipe. That injury would last him the rest of his life – half a minute.
Scarlet dived to the ground beside Squint as Bruiser came into range, broadsword swinging, and grabbed the sword that the drunk fellow had dropped. She stood up again, and faced both Bruiser and Headband. She wasn't exactly brilliant with a sword, and there was no trick mage to get in her way now…
…so she reverted to the magical approach. She let off the first spell that came to mind, and two fireballs went flying from her free hand to the other two. It hit them, but there was no burning, no flinching. "How the hell?" she whispered…
…and then Bruiser came at her, swinging wildly and dangerously close. She stepped back steadily, moving around the table and moving her sword barely enough to deflect the incoming blows.
"Parace serra," she incanted, channelling energy into the sword she was holding. It shimmered, and a layer of yellow-green gas formed around the blade, swirling gently.
"What the…?" began Headband, and he moved off to the side. They were trying to pin her in on both sides, she realised.
"Good luck with that," said Scarlet, and she moved the other way, keeping them both in front of her.
Headband snarled and Scarlet smiled unpleasantly; he pushed a table aside and rejoined Bruiser, both of them hacking away the flat side of Scarlet's gas-shrouded sword as she moved back step by step towards the wall.
Just then, the remaining two bandits, Baldie and Archer-girl, re-emerged at the staircase. "What's that noise…?" began Baldie, trailing off as he took in Squint's unmoving body and the frantic swordplay occurring at the far end of the room. "By Din," he muttered in surprise, and took a step towards them.
"They're fine; let's kill the others," snapped Archer-girl, motioning towards the table where Johannes and Morrett were sitting.
Baldie seemed happy to follow orders; he swivelled around on one foot, and marched towards the table, gripping his axe menacingly. Archer-girl trailed closely behind him.
"By Nayruu's love, I don't want to die," said Morrett numbly.
"You probably won't," said Johannes reassuringly, and his grip tightened on his bow, which still rested on the chairs' head. "We've survived worse."
Archer-girl heard and snorted derisively. In a lightning-quick action, she pulled the bow from her back with her left hand, while removing an arrow from its quiver with her right. She snapped the arrow onto the bowstring, pointing it directly at Johannes' left eye. The whole motion took her all of half a second. She released the bowstring.
Johannes only had time to gesture with his free hand and let off a single spell before the arrow was flying at him. As it left the bow, the wooden arrow glowed bright red, then yellow, then white, steam rising from it as it burnt rapidly and intensely until it was nothing but a pointed piece of charcoal. Then it hit him in the face, crumbling and leaving nothing but ash and a painful burn along the left side of his face – nothing that couldn't be rapidly healed.
Neither Archer-girl nor Baldie saw the arrow burn; all they saw was it smashing into their prey's face, barely leaving a mark. Both their jaws dropped. They stood rooted to the spot, Archer-girl's bow hanging forgotten by her side and Baldie's axe fallen to the ground.
Johannes smiled. Moving lazily and deliberately, he picked up his bow and slipped an arrow in. To his amusement, neither of the aggressors moved from where they were, or made any attempt to get out of harms' way. He aimed the arrow across the room, directly between them, and on an impulse enchanted the arrow before letting fly.
The arrow flew across the room, straight between Archer-girl and Baldie, and slammed into the far wall, exploding with dazzling light. The entire room lit up for half a second as if the sun was shining inside the walls. A parlour trick, yes, but a fun one.
"That was a warning," said Johannes, readying a second arrow, and the two thieves finally started moving again, trying (wisely) to get the hell out of the way. He released the bowstring.
It was meant to hit the woman with the bow, and would have, except that Archer-girl had been pulling her companion towards her to shield her body, and it worked magnificently: Baldie stumbled in front of her, received an arrow just below the neck, and started bleeding profusely. He lost his balance and the two of them fell to the ground in a heap; Archer-girl struggling to get her companion's weight off her, Baldie dying.
When the light arrow had gone off, it had illuminated the entire room, and both Bruiser and Headband had glanced across the room, distracted. Seeing a gigantic opening, Scarlet had reached in and jabbed Bruiser in the leg with her magically-enhanced sword. She'd tried the same for Headband but he noticed in time and batted her sword back with his own.
Nobody attacked for a moment. Bruiser regarded his leg wound, which was really a tiny hole where a little blood and yellow-green gas seeped out. First he looked shocked, then angry, and then his eyes flashed with triumph.
"Coward!" said Bruiser, smiling menacingly. "You could have killed me, and instead you did that?"
Scarlet would have liked to explain that she didn't really like lopping people's heads off. Instead, she motioned at the wound, where the gas still swirled and said, "You deserve that."
Bruiser laughed and raised his sword to begin fighting again, but then yelled and clutched at his arm in agony. He started to say something but then staggered back, his body wracked with pain, and his skin turning pale. He began to cough out blood.
"Nayru's mercy!" whispered Headband, taking an involuntary step away.
"It's not contagious," Scarlet assured him. "It's just poison."
Bruiser kept standing there and screaming and bleeding, and they watched without moving as he fell to the ground and started clawing at his heart, his movements slowing with every breath. After a few more seconds, his eyes rolled over and he slumped to the ground.
Headband and Scarlet locked eyes.
"Just one scratch," said Scarlet, gripping the poisonous sword with both hands.
Headband gulped and ran for the door. Scarlet threw the sword after him, javelin style. It went through his back and he fell to the ground, trying to scream. A flick of her hand and the yellow-green gas dissipated from the sword.
"Is that all of them?" Johannes said to her. He was still sitting in the chair.
She glanced around the room. "I count five… yes, that's all of them…" Scarlet pointed at the girl with the bow, still struggling and clearly alive. "You missed one."
Johannes stood up and joined her. "What was the problem?"
"Didn't you see?" said Scarlet. "The last two were immune to fire, somehow."
Johannes examined Bruiser's dead body and pointed at his neck. "That amulet there?"
"Ah, might be," said Scarlet, ripping a small charm from the bandit leader. "Would you look at that. Fire-proof charms. Must have been scared of their own mage."
Johannes nodded. "Check the rest."
Scarlet started searching the bodies for valuables. Johannes crossed the room and did the same.
"You just killed them…" said Morrett weakly, finally having reclaimed his voice.
"They would have done the same," said Scarlet.
"Who are you?" managed Morrett.
"We're returning from a long journey outside of Hyrule," said Johannes absently, pulling another fire-proof charm from around the neck of the bald one. He regarded it with interest and slipped it around his neck to join a collection of other charms.
Scarlet nodded. "Yes, we've come back to collect an inheritance… hmm, is this yours?" She held up a pouch full of Rupees that the leader had stuffed into a pocket.
"Yes," said Morrett gratefully. He started to stand, and paused. "You're not going to give it back, are you?"
"Clever man," said Scarlet, shaking the pouch to hear the money rattle. "Consider it payment." When Morrett didn't respond, she added, "Well, we've just done you a huge favour. We have just saved your life from that pack of bandits. Also, I'm about to hang their heads outside your inn. You won't have trouble like that again…"
"I think I'm going to be sick," said Morrett numbly.
Scarlet continued: "…and since you seem so damn poor, that's all we're going to take from you. One bag of money that you would have lost anyway."
"Goddesses," muttered Morrett, springing up and dashing outside.
Johannes and Scarlet ignored him.
"Little archer-girl over here is still alive," said Johannes, motioning at the half-suffocating woman with the crossbow.
"That's nice," said Scarlet. "You want to finish it, or will I?"
Archer-girl started struggling even more underneath her dead companion's weight.
"I was thinking we keep her alive," said Johannes. "Keep her to carry the bags."
"Remember what happened to the last one?" said Scarlet. "It's not worth the trouble."
They both stared at the subdued archer, considering her.
"Or…" began Johannes.
"Bored?" said Malina, sticking her head into the cellar.
"Just get lost," said Nemia. "Doesn't the farm need you? Hungry cows and starved Cucco chickens…"
"All done," said Malina, with no small hint of smugness. What she didn't add was, And good luck getting rid of me, sis. "We have a few hours until they come home."
"Oh, wonderful," said Nemia with no little sarcasm. She carefully put her book down on top of a barrel of something-they-weren't-allowed-to-drink-yet, and turned to face her sister on the cellar steps. "So let me guess. You want to stay here and annoy me while Dad isn't around." She found herself tapping a foot impatiently. When was he coming?
"Daddy? Just him? You sure you aren't forgetting someone… else?" teased Malina. She hopped down the cellar steps, taking them two at a time. "Maybe… maybe there's a certain boy or something? Someone you don't want me to talk about?"
"Pardon me," said Nemia, grabbing her book again. "I meant to say 'Dad and Link'. Is that better?"
"Aw, poor Nemia. You miss him alweady, don't ya?" said Malina, putting on a sad face. "I bet you do. I bet you just want to get back to all that silly stuff you talk about, don't you?"
Nemia seemed absorbed in her reading.
"That's so nice," Malina went on. "I mean, 'Oh, Link, you're so handsome and all, I like you, I really do…'"
Nemia sighed and gave Malina a playful shove from halfway across the room. "I never said that!" she said.
"Hey!" said Malina crossly, and she walked over to Nemia. "What'cha doin', anyway?"
"Looking through some books, obviously," said Nemia, trying hard to remain patient.
"What books?" chirped Malina.
"They belonged to your mother," Nemia replied.
"Oh," said Malina, having run into a subject that she wasn't entirely knowledgeable about. "Did they?"
"Yes," said Nemia. She paused, and added, "This one's about enchantments you can put on animals. To stop them from getting sick, and things like that."
"Uh-huh," said Malina. She crossed her arms. "You really think you can do that too? Travelling around making money by doing little magic tricks."
"There's nothing trick-like about them," said Nemia.
Malina was clearly losing interest. "Okay, I think we're done talking." She poked Nemia in the ribs.
Nemia twitched a finger, thinking the incantation to the first spell she'd ever learnt, and poked Nemia back without moving a muscle. "Go sit under a cow or something."
Malina laughed. "Will do, sis." She started up the stairs.
Nemia smiled and went back to the book. Only a couple of seconds later–
Bang!
–and she looked up. Something outside had just made a very loud noise.
Malina was only halfway up the stairs. "What was that?" she said, taking a step back down.
"I don't know," said Nemia, dropping the book onto the floor without a second thought and walking quickly to the steps.
"What do you think it was?" said Malina.
"Probably nothing," said Nemia, not believing a word of it. She caught up to her sister.
"Let's go look. Together," said Malina.
It was a short walk from the cellar to the outside world, and when they got there, a cow was lying right outside the door. It wasn't moving.
"No!" said Malina, rushing over to the cow's side, and feeling its head.
"Is it dead?" said Nemia.
"I don't know," said Malina, wide-eyed. "I think so."
Malina hugged the cow's head close, whispering quietly to it. Nemia watched with object disgust.
Malina stood up. "That's horrible!" she said loudly. "It's evil! Who would do something like that?"
Nemia shook her head, unable to think of anything to say.
"I'm sorry about the cow," said a voice from nearby, "but I was getting bored."
The two sisters looked around and saw him. A man in jester's robes stood still, close by, smiling eerily at them. His clothes were patched and frayed, and every now and then a crackle of red electricity ran through his body.
"Who are you?" said Nemia. "I don't know you."
"Did you kill her?" said Malina furiously, pointing a finger at him.
"Kill who?" said Salencia, before realising she meant the cow. "Yes, didn't I just say? It was only a cow."
"Why?" said Nemia.
"Must I keep repeating myself?" said Salencia, the same smile on his face. He took a step towards them.
"Who are you?" demanded Malina, taking a step forward herself.
"Malina…" muttered Nemia, tugging her back.
"Why, I'm a jester!" said Salencia. He shook his head and the bells jingled violently, noisily. "Surprise!"
"What are you doing here?" said Nemia.
"Why, I thought you'd never ask," said the jester, smiling. "It's a bit complicated, but the short story is, I want to be famous again." He took another step forward.
"What?" said Nemia, exchanging a perplexed glance with Malina. Then she remembered that the jester looked dangerous and she pulled her sister back a couple more steps.
"Never mind," said Salencia. "You're not the ones I need to explain to… so, on to business."
He folded his arms and looked between them.
"So which one of you two does magic?"
Nemia and Malina kept backing towards the door.
"All right," said Salencia, "it's okay, I already know. It's the black-haired one." He gestured at Nemia. "I just wanted to see whether you tried to lie or something. It's funny. People trying to sacrifice themselves to save their kids."
"What are you going to do?" said Nemia, huddling her sister close.
"For now?" said Salencia. "Leave an impression."
He grinned, and they turned and ran.
"Almost there," said Talon, pointing ahead in the distance to where the ranch was now visible. "We'll be there in another twenty minutes."
Link nodded, trying not to get stuck in conversation again.
"Had a good day, yeah?" said Talon.
Link sat up straight. "What's that?" he said, pointing at the farm.
Talon frowned and squinted into the distance. It was hard to make out against the rays of the setting sun, but emanating from the ranch was what had to be…
"Smoke," he said. "Something's burning."
"Think the stables caught fire?" said Link, worried.
"I dunno," said Talon.
They kept riding home, but a little faster now.
A/N: That took longer than I'd hoped. The first few sections were incredibly painful to write, especially the bit setting up Zelda for some backseat governing…
In response to Duke Serkol's question about character names – I don't know; it just seemed weird using 'Malon' at the time.
Again, please drop a review – it doesn't need to take longer than fifteen seconds (ten with a fast connection), and it would be nice to know that somebody actually read this. If it makes it easier to think of something to say, critique the pseudo-fight-scene. Did it go by too fast, or did it drag? It an acceptable trade to identify the minor about-to-die characters by arbitrary nicknames? (It was either that, or naming every single one of them, or several paragraphs of 'Henchmen nos. 3 and 4 swung into action'.) Also, would be entirely tasteless if I occasionally dropped recaps of what had happened so far, at the start of every nth chapter?
I feel compelled to add something else, but I have nothing left to say…