The Bleeding Effect
Chapter XIV
AN: This chapter is a little longer than usual because poor Link has a lot to go through in the Gerudo Fortress. Enjoy!
The thieves had left Link to his own devices for so long he was starting to hope Aveil would make good on her threat. At least then he could try to escape. There would be more to do than just sitting around listlessly, as he was now.
Every morning, as soon as the sun rose, a flagon of water and a limp slice of meat were pushed into the room. Every night, as the sun set, the flagon was retrieved. No one entered Link's prison. The door would open a sliver, and he would only catch a quick glimpse of slender tan arms before the door was shut tight again.
He was wary of the food and water, at first. It was far more generous than he expected of them. Link instantly assumed that it was poisoned, or drugged. For the first two days, he refused to partake of either. On the third, he was waiting at the door when the pitcher was placed down. He drank the entire thing in a matter of minutes, so fast that he actually got sick, and ended up vomiting up almost everything he had just quaffed.
After his stomach settled, he shoved the meat in his mouth and swallowed it almost whole. He regretted that until the next day; the meat had been salted for preservation, and the intake of salt only made his thirst stronger.
Link learned his lesson well. He would thereafter eat the meat first thing, chasing down the nasty combination of sand and salt with a small gulp of water. Then, periodically throughout the day (he measured time by how much of his prison was covered in harsh sunlight) he would drink from the flagon. If he didn't leave the flagon near the door for the unknown Gerudo to collect, it would still somehow be gone the next morning, taking whilst he slumbered. So naturally, he tried to stay up all night to catch them in the act, only to abruptly black out and reawaken the next morning, with a large lump on his head.
He had briefly debated using the object as a weapon to strike at the thief who came to retrieve it, but he stayed his hand. Whether it was out of kindness—the arms that laid out his fare were a child's—or born from pathetic fear—if he failed, they could decide to withhold drink from him entirely, and while he could ignore the hunger pains, he didn't know if he could bear again the way his body shut down after two days without water.
He marked the passage of time with notches dug into the wall. It had been two weeks and three days since their capture, and Aveil still had not returned. When Link wasn't contemplating gristly ways he might be tortured, bemoaning (internally, because to speak would be to waste the precious little energy and liquid his body contained) his lack of water, or plotting his unlikely escape, he was just incredibly bored. Though he was thoughtful and careful when facing enemies and traps, he had scant patience when it came to waiting around idly.
And despite all the Gerudo thieves were putting him through, Link couldn't find it within himself to despise them. Once his initial rage and indignation cooled, he pulled from his memory everything he knew about the Gerudos. And his heart filled with pity. Because he knew. He knew exactly what would happen to them. He knew their unhappy fate, which explained why there was not one Gerudo in his own time.
After the Hero of Time and Princess Zelda, by meddling with the course of history by jumping back and forth seven years, mustered up enough proof of the Gerudo King's nefarious plot to seize the Hyrule throne to persuade the King of Hyrule, the sages attempted to execute Ganondorf. They failed, and were thus forced to seal him away in the Twilight Realm.
But the King of Hyrule was not satisfied with the—in his mind—eternal punishment of Ganondorf. The idea that the Gerudo thief was days away from robbing him of his throne and his life was too much for him to bear. Hatred festered in his heart. Princess Zelda was eventually able to flush out the negative emotions which possessed her father, to soothe his paranoid mind.
But her wisdom did not get through to him fast enough.
Just about the time when Ganondorf had come to Hyrule Castle under the false pretense of swearing his fealty and discussing trade agreements, there was a sickness within Castle Town. It wasn't fatal to most; indeed, the only lives lost were those too young or too old to handle the strain of it.
Aware of the king's unease, a smiling man whose masks flew off the shelves in Castle Town offered his suggestion. He whispered in the king's ear to include in their next trade caravan heading for the Gerudos some of the blankets the ill had sweated and suffered under. The salesman explained that the sickness would spread magically to the Gerudos upon contact with the tainted blankets. Their bodies, unaccustomed to the illnesses of Hyrule, would give out shortly after contracting the disease.
The Hylian King was skeptical, until a later caravan sent out to the Gerudo Fortress returned, items unsold. The caravan masters relayed the grim fate of the Gerudos: all dead from an illness they never saw coming. The king had wanted to thank the mask salesman for his tip, but shortly after giving his advice to the royal, the man had vanished forever.
Or so the legend said. But if it was true, it meant that the Gerudo—the proud, intelligent, beautiful Gerudo thieves—were felled by mere blankets. Link couldn't hate a doomed race. But did it have to be doomed?
Link straightened from his slouched position on the wall for the first time that day. He was in the past. He was the only one who knew what would happen. He could stop the eradication of an entire race of people. But how would he go about accomplishing such a thing? The Gerudos loathed Hylians—there was no way they would ever listen to anything he had to say. He would have no better luck with the king, even though he was his own kin—he had no way to prove what had yet to come about. That only left tracking down the mask salesman. He could confront the man directly. But even that had complications. Link could go back in time—he was temporarily the Hero of Time, after all—and locate the man's shop in Castle Town. But even if he did that, what guarantee would he have that the salesman would honor his word to never suggest such a thing to the king? The only absolute way would be to…
He swallowed against the dryness of his throat.
He had resigned himself long ago to killing monsters. After all, they were wicked servants of evil. They deserved to die. If Link didn't stop them, only more innocents would get hurt. But he had never killed a human or humanoid. Never had he cut down a Gerudo, a Zora, a Goron, or a Hylian. Could he ever bring himself to?
Raised voices outside his prison distracted him from his thoughts. He stood, gripping the wall tightly for support as he made his way closer to the door. He had hardly moved three feet when he heard the scraping of something in the lock and the door flew open.
A lone Gerudo stood in the doorway. Her eyes were wide, whole body tense as she glanced behind her shoulder. In her hand was a small brown pouch. By her feet were the fallen forms of his guards, blood pooling around them.
She swiftly darted over to him. The thief pressed the pouch into his palm. Now that it was right in front of him, Link could see it was one of his item pouches.
"Tell me you can use something in there to escape." The woman whispered fiercely.
Link, picking up the need for urgency in her tone, quickly untied the bag and peered into it. A shoot of dismay pierced through him. The Gerudo had grabbed the pouch which contained the medallions, and not his weapons.
But the thief must've risked her life to get him this much. And besides, to his relief, every single medallion was still present. They hadn't mastered their magic yet. He flashed her a grateful smile.
"Yes, it'll be very helpful."
"Good." She spun on her heel, as if to leave. With speed Link didn't know he had, his hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist. Her face ripped into a snarl, the fire in her eyes matched by the color of her hair.
"Why are you helping me?" Link demanded.
"Not all of us follow Nabooru blindly as Aveil does. We have heard that Nabooru is conducting…experiments on people at the Spirit Temple. Such actions are unforgiveable."
"So you're revolting against Aveil."
The unnamed thief nods. "You are strong, warrior. Aveil will send those loyal to her after you to recapture you."
"And during all the chaos and confusion, you and your compatriots will be stabbing them in the back at every turn."
"I have lingered here long enough. Aveil was on her way here today. She must not spot me and suspect that any of the Gerudo aren't on her side. Release me."
Link let her go, and before he could get another word in edgewise, the thief vanished back out the door.
He wasted no time dallying or gaping. Who knew when another round of Gerudos—or Aveil herself—might swing by. He tied the pouch to his belt, whose notches he had tightened around a week ago. He grimaced at the state of his body. He would not stand a chance against any Gerudo, no matter her might, as frail and unarmed as he was.
Link crept outside of his cell. There was a flurry of activity further into the fortress; but where Link was, all was calm and still. For the moment, at least.
Link crouched down next to the crumpled heaps of his guards. Aveil clearly hadn't thought he would escape—both of the guards were only equipped with simple naginata. Unfortunately for him, neither of the weapons was usable: the Gerudo that had freed him had snapped both of their weapons in two.
He opened the pouch again, and scrutinized the medallions. Should he use the Shadow Medallion, because he was more comfortable in that form? Or should he trying something new and possibly more destructive, such as the Fire Medallion? Though he was curious about the powers of the other medallions, in the end he decided to play it safe.
Link put the Shadow Medallion around his neck and was soon in his wolf form. He pawed at the sand experimentally. It felt about the same as the sand in his own time, albeit a little hotter. He had mastered the ability to move swiftly and silently whilst treading over sand, thanks to the countless nights spent evading moblin camps.
A sharp gasp made his head snap up. Aveil was before him, face bloodless as she took in the scene before her. Her two guards, apparently murdered by him. Never mind the fact that not a drop of blood decorated his pelt.
Aveil had her scimitar drawn in an instant.
"What manner of creature are you?"
Link sprinted towards her. She responded with an attack, blade arcing down. She was fast, probably the fastest foe he had ever encountered.
But a wolf would always run faster than a man. He artfully dodged her blow and pounced upon her, pushing his weight upon her with such force that she lost her grip on her weapon. She struggled beneath him, and his claws dug into her shoulders. She tried to headbutt him, but he lifted his head out of the way. He should kill her. She's threatened him, imprisoned him. Terrorized his friends and the carpenters. It would be so easy, too, with his sharp teeth inches from her exposed neck.
And yet…he couldn't. He couldn't. Every Gerudo life was something to be treasured, something sacred. One life might mean the difference between the race's utter annihilation or possible salvation. Even if he did somehow manage to stop the salesman, there was no guarantee that the Hylian king would not take some measure to eliminate the perceived Gerudo threat. Every Gerudo counted.
So he sprang off of her, not glancing back as he headed further into the fortress.
"Come back here, monster!" Her voice carried over the waves of sand, high with anger. "Return and fight me!"
Link paid her words to turn around no heed, though the "monster" comment did send a twang of hurt to his heart. He was unwillingly reminded of when he had crept back into Ordon, injured and reeling from all he had experienced after the first attack. The villagers had gotten one look at his wolf form and either ran away screaming or ran towards him to bring him harm.
Link paused at the bottom of the slope. The fortress was thrumming with thieves: several were perched upon the roofs, bows slung over their small shoulders; more patrolled at the base of the buildings, all hands on the hilts of their scimitars; others still guarded the entrance that lead back out to the valley, the pointed ends of their naginata gleaming in the sunlight.
It was a miracle he hadn't been spotted already. Keen not to squander the moment, he padded nimbly over to the nearest building. He hugged the side of the wall, doing his best to blend into the shadows; thankfully, his dark pelt was useful in that regard. But how was he going to open a door and slip inside? He couldn't, not like this. He regretted having to abandon his wolf form—the heightened senses, speed, and strength were crucial when he was as vulnerable as he was. But a wolf didn't have opposable thumbs, so even though his instincts howled at him not to do it, he tipped his head down and backed up. The chain tumbled down over his lowered neck. Once human, he placed the Shadow Medallion back in the pouch and brought out the Water Medallion. It seemed he might be experimenting with the different medallions after all.
He slipped the blue medallion under the shirt and then inched closer to the door. None of the patrolling Gerudos had spotted him yet—but he would have to be very swift and very lucky to not be heard opening and shutting the door.
Then Aveil was puffing down the hill of sand, shouting orders. Link was out of time. Praying that the thieves were too focused on their leader to notice him, he ran up to the door, flung it open, ran in, and shut it behind him. Too loudly.
The few voices that had been shouting erupted into a din.
Link ran for his life. Thankfully, the room he entered was barren. He headed for the door on the other side of the room, arms pumping.
The Gerudos flung open the door he had come in through just as he exited the room through another one.
They would catch up. He swerved and pivoted, dashing through the doors he thought most random in order to throw them off.
His well of luck, though, had finally run dry. He turned another corner that lead into a mess hall of sorts. Every Gerudo in the room—there looked to be twenty, at least—stopped whatever they were doing to stare at him.
He must have lost his mind back in the cell, because instead of calling forth the might of the medallion right away, he gave them a sheepish wave coupled with a small smile.
"Why, good afternoon, ladies…"
The words had hardly left his lips before the Gerudo galvanized into action.
One lobbed a dagger at him; that he dodged easily enough, but he could swear his heart stopped when he saw the nocked arrow pointed towards him, too close to hope to dodge.
As she loosed the arrow, another Gerudo bumped into her, knocking the arrow off its course for Link's brain. Instead, it buried itself in the wall next to his face. That was close, too close—blood trickled down to the collar of his shirt from the new cut on his cheek.
The archer glared at the Gerudo who had diverted the fatal blow.
She ducked her head. "Forgive me, I was clumsy."
"You were—"
Their conversation was swallowed by a roar of ocean water. To Link's amazement and joy, strong bursts of water erupted from the palm of his hand, knocking all the thieves off their feet. Just then he heard the pattering of footsteps behind him—the Gerudos from before must have caught up to him.
Link leaped from the high steps he was on, to one of the large mess tables. He ran over top of it, ignoring the sprawled, drowned forms of the Gerudos, eager to reach the exit available and waiting for him across the room.
He jumped off the table, and had one foot on the stair leading to the doorway, when a Gerudo's arm flashed out and snagged his ankle.
Link went down hard, the end of his chin connecting solidly with one of the steps. That would be a painful, long-lasting bruise, Link thought through the spats of pain. Just then, the Gerudos who had pursued him this far pounded into the room.
"This simply isn't my day." He grunted, as he scrambled up the rest of the steps and into the next hallway.
Link took a few turns, breath quick and shallow in his chest, when he felt a second hand grabbed his ankle.
Not again, he thought fleetingly, and threw up his hands to protect his face as he was yanked downwards, the floorboard beneath him suddenly gone. The hand let him go after he landed, and the floorboard was quickly replaced.
The little light granted to him through the small slats in the floorboards only supplied him with the vaguest outline of his savior.
"Who are—mmph." She pressed a palm to his lips. He got the message and shut his mouth.
Just then came the thrum of many pairs of feet over their heads, as the Gerudos pursuing Link ran by, unaware that they were passing right over their quarry.
Only several minutes after the last of the footsteps faded did his rescuer remove her hand.
"Thank you for saving me," He whispered. "I'll be forever in your debt, miss."
It was a clear invitation to offer her name. She didn't take it. Instead, she scooted closer to him. Link, uncomfortable with her proximity—though she had saved his life, she was still a stranger, after all—tried to subtly back away from her, but soon enough, his back connected with the end of the tunnel they were in. He was trapped.
"Aveil knows about these tunnels," The Gerudo purred. "But she's too dull-witted to believe any of us would ever betray her. But I have found my higher cause."
Was she referring to the resistance faction within the Gerudo Tribe? Was she herself a participant?
Her hand rested on his thigh, and he realized with no small amount of dread that she was referring to something else entirely.
"Those other men Aveil locked up here," The Gerudo continued, voice laced with disgust. "They were ugly, hulking brutes. And even the man you came in with was too much like a woman to be appealing."
If Link wasn't so mortified with the situation at hand, he would've found it humorous that she found Sheik effeminate, as it was similar to the dilemma that he had faced earlier in his first few weeks as a time traveler.
"But you," She stressed, and Link gasped as her hand moved up to caress something a little higher. "You are a real man."
Link bit back a groan and pushed her hand away. This was not his body to give, and even if it was, Telma hadn't corrupted him to the point where he'd just engage in spur of the moment flings.
"I have more pressing matters at hand. I have no time for this."
Her features were difficult to make out in the dim, but he could swear she—a fierce warrior—pouted at him.
"I saved your life. You're in my debt. You said so yourself."
And so he had. If anything, this whole experience would teach him to word his sentences more carefully in the future.
Without warning she crushed her lips against his. He struggled but there wasn't much space in the tunnel for movement; the crown of his head bumped against the top of the tunnel as he sat upright.
She was stuck on top of him like an octorok, brushing up against him all the right ways. He bucked up once involuntarily before he forced himself to still. He didn't like this, not at all. Though most of his body was aflame, his guts were like slabs of ice. She was taking advantage of him in this small space she had him trapped in. Was there something he could do? Think! But Goddesses, why did it have to be so hard?
She grabbed one of his hands and put it between their chests, presumably to encourage him to cup her breasts. When entering the Gerudo Valley he had fantasized about such a moment; but now, the whole thing made him sick.
Link instead used his hand to activate the Water Medallion, forcefully blasting the woman off of him. The sheer strength of the water made her fly back, and her head hit the floor of the tunnel hard.
Link shuffled over to her as well as he was able in the small area, and checked her over. The blow had only knocked her out. Thank the Goddesses.
He felt along the ceiling of the tunnel until he reached the section the thief had pushed on to bring him down here in the first place. Link dragged her out onto the surface so she would be found sooner rather than later by her compatriots. Now that she was in actual light, he got a better look at her. She was as stunning as she felt.
For extra measure, he doused himself with cold water from the medallion, too.
Link replaced the floorboards and began to crawl further down the tunnel. As if the Gerudo lying on the floor wasn't obvious enough that he had been there, there was also water everywhere, in the tunnel entrance and above it. He couldn't afford to stick around much longer.
Link started to crawl, his wet clothes sticking to the floor and slowing him down. It rankled him, but there was little he could do about it now. So he unhappily crawled through the cramped, twisting tunnel, until he reached a dead end.
He pushed at the floorboards above him, and mercifully they popped open. Link climbed out of the tunnel, pushing wet hair from his face as he surveyed the room. It appeared that he had reached one of the cells: a bulky Hylian cowered behind bars. Link tried to put on a reassuring smile as he approached the trapped carpenter.
"Don't worry, I'll get you out of there." He strode over to the padlocked door, frowning at the strength of the lock.
"B-Behind you!" The carpenter sputtered.
Link whirled around to see a Gerudo charging toward him, twin scimitars brandished.
He jumped to the side, avoiding her blow.
"I don't know how you escaped, Hylian," The woman growled, pacing around him. "But your freedom shall end here!"
At her waist, a jingling noise, a flash of silver—his eyes flicked down. It was a set of keys. The key to the man's cell was undoubtedly one of them. Well. Now he had even further incentive to defeat her.
The Water Medallion hummed against his chest. He didn't have to fight her with his bare fists. He raised his palm and a blast of water flew out. The Gerudo nimbly dodged his attacks, balanced upon the tips of her feet.
"Water?" She sneered. "Pathetic."
The jailer slowly drew closer, and Link's tension increased as she continued to avoid every attack he threw at her. She was too close, too close—
Link cried out as her one scimitar cut flesh; a long horizontal line across his stomach. It was shallow enough to not be instantly fatal, but if he continued to fight on for much longer, it would be.
One arm curled around his stomach whilst the other dug into his pouch. He grabbed the first medallion he came in contact with and threw it around his neck. Link raised both palms out and let the power surge forth. Swirling vortexes of fire and water slammed into the woman. She flew back and hit the wall, blades dropping from her loose grip. She screamed once, and then was silent. When he lowered his hands again, the thief was dead—nothing more than a wet, blackened mess.
He tamped down on the urge to be violently ill. Now that the threat of imminent death had diminished, he felt wretched for what he had done. Link had made the decision to spare Gerudo life if he could, and not a day had passed since he made that vow that he had broken it.
He approached the charred corpse, and noticed with dismay that the keys were a molten mess of metal.
Link returned to the door of the cell, slipping off the Water Medallion as he walked. His palms touched the lock. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and soon enough the metal liquefied beneath his touch, and dribbled off the door into a silver puddle on the floor. Once that was done, he opened the door wide.
He shoved the fire medallion back in his pouch. He wouldn't use the medallions again, save for the Shadow Medallion. Not even as a last resort. They were simply too powerful. And he had only commanded the might of two of them—what would have happened had he used all five of them? A tremor of excitement ran through him at the thought of all that power at this fingertips, but one glance at the woman's corpse dull it instantly.
Link strode over to the scimitars and bent down to pick them up, gritting his teeth as the movement aggravated his wound.
The carpenter was now at the doorway of the cell, eyeing him warily. The Hylian looked positively green.
Link offered him one of the scimitars, holding out the hilt towards the stranger.
"You'll need this to help me rescue the other carpenters trapped here."
The man looked at him in askance. "Why are you here?"
"Mutoh sent me." The lie had a grain of truth in it, at least.
After a beat of deliberation, the carpenter took the proffered weapon. "If Mutoh trusts you, I suppose I should too. He is the boss for a reason." He offered his hand. "The name's Ichiro."
"Link." He shook the man's hand firmly.
"I was the first one taken from the camp. From what the jailer has told me, I wasn't the last."
Link nodded. "Mutoh said all of his men were taken."
Ichiro's face fell. "My brothers. There are three of them."
"Additionally, Mutoh and my companion, Sheik, were also taken captive."
Ichiro's knuckles whitened on the scimitar's hilt.
"Bailing my little brothers out of trouble is nothing new. But old Mutoh? He'll be downright pissed." Ichiro snickered once but then grew serious. "They relocated me from a different cell to this one. I still remember the route we took to get here. I can lead you back that way. Chances are someone's locked up there."
Link concurred, and together they crept from the room and down yet another hallway. Link wasn't entirely comfortable with Ichiro taking the lead, but the man surprised him with how swiftly he was able to move his massive frame around.
Ichiro abruptly crouched behind a nearby create, and Link bent down behind him.
"What is it?" Link hissed to him.
"More sandies. Three of 'em dead ahead." His head swiveled to look at Link. "What do you want to do?"
"We can't kill them." At Ichiro's incredulous look, Link insisted, "We can't."
"What about the one you did away with, then?"
Link shot him a glare. The wound was fraying his temper. "If I hadn't done that, we wouldn't be here having this conversation."
Ichiro looked sheepish.
"Besides, some of them are on our side."
"Well, they sure have a way of showing it."
"We haven't the time to argue, just do as I say and don't kill them!" Link snapped.
"Alright, alright." The carpenter backed off. "So what do you want to do?"
Link felt the cool press of steel to his throat.
"He wants to surrender." Said a feminine voice.
Link cursed himself. How had she managed to completely sneak up behind him? Even as he asked himself the question, he already knew the answer. He had counted on Midna, and more recently, Navi, to warn him of any oncoming attacks from behind. He had grown lax when it came to watching his own back, and now he was suffering for it.
"Drop your weapon."
The scimitar fell from his numb hands.
"Stand up." The Gerudo ordered, and though his legs locked in refusal, Link forced himself to obey her. The sword remained at his neck the entire time. Two other Gerudos stepped forward to take the carpenter captive again as well.
Ichiro looked like he was still itching to fight his way out, to tackle the impossible odds that were stacked against him. Link met his eyes, then gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. The other Hylian understood his message nonetheless, and begrudgingly tossed away his scimitar, allowing a thief to step closer and place her own blade to his neck.
The Gerudo marched them into the room housing the second jail cell. Sure enough, one of the carpenters was there, expression miserable.
The surprised jailers were sternly reprimanded by the thieves who had recaptured Link and Ichiro, before the two men were unkindly shoved into the cell with the other carpenter.
The two brothers were reunited, but it was hardly a cause for celebration.
"Jiro," Ichiro acknowledged.
"Ichiro. Good to see you're still alive, at the very least."
"We might not be for much longer."
One of the Gerudos who had captured them ordered one of the jailers away to fetch Aveil. As if Link's day could have gotten any worse.
He sagged up against the wall. The hero had no idea what to do now. The Gerudos hadn't noticed that he still held the pouch with the medallions, but it was only a matter of time until they spotted them and the pouch was confiscated again. If he was going to act, it would have to be now.
But he was weary, enfeebled by his collection of wounds. Could he defeat them all, even with the help of the two brothers? And could he exercise just the right amount of restraint to render his foes unconscious and not obliterate them?
Something clattered in the hallway they had just been lead in from.
All of the Gerudos snapped to attention.
"Go see what that was." One of them commanded another, and the latter cautiously made her way to the hallway.
Everyone waited, silent and still, as she rounded the corner.
They heard her cry of alarm, the noises of a scuffle, and then silence once more.
The leader of the bunch stormed over to the cell.
"Who else was with you?"
"N-No one." Stuttered Ichiro.
She seized him by his shirt and pulled him so his face pressed against the bars.
"Tell me or I'll cut off your fingers one by one until you bleed out."
"Don't you think you're being a little overdramatic now, miss?" Came a familiar voice.
Link stood straight again, body thrumming with newfound hope: it was Sheik!
Three small balls rolled into the room. They burst and the place flooded with smoke. Link and the carpenters threw up their hands to shield their eyes. They heard the clash of blades, the resounding thuds of bodies dropping to the floor. Then, the haze of smoke dissipated.
When the air was finally clear, the whole pack of Gerudos was in a bloody heap on the floor. Standing in the middle of them was Sheik. He was missing his turban, but Link was relieved to see that he had emerged from his captivity totally unscathed otherwise. A far cry from himself, Link thought wryly.
Sheik scooped up a set of keys from one of the jailers with an uncanny grace, and unlocked the cell.
He wrinkled his nose at the sight of Link. "You look terrible."
Link could imagine. His clothes were still uncomfortably damp and clingy; blood crusted on his stomach and cheek; sand was positively everywhere.
"You've never been much of a prize yourself." He snarked, but his voice was weak and shaky.
Sheik's eyes flashed with concern, but he knew there were more pressing matters at hand. He glanced over his shoulder. "You can come out now."
To Link's surprise, and the brothers' joy, two young carpenters scuttled over to the group.
As the brothers embraced and guffawed, Sheik took Link aside to speak privately.
"Now that we've united Sabooru and Shiro with their brothers, we need to get them out of here."
"You still haven't found Mutoh, then?" Asked Link.
"No. Neither him, nor Navi, nor your weapons. I expect Aveil is keeping them all even deeper still in the fortress, as they are better prizes."
Link's lips pressed together. "Do you think she's hurting Navi?"
"I…doubt it." Sheik said, but his hesitation was telling. He switched gears. "How did you manage to escape?"
"One of the revolters gave me my medallion pouch and freed me."
"Revolters?"
"You mean you don't know? There's a revolt going on within the fortress."
"That both complicates and simplifies our escape."
"Wait a second. If you weren't freed, how did you manage to get out of your cell?"
Sheik's red eyes twinkled with mirthful pride.
"Making such impossible escapes is the trademark of the Sheikah Tribe. Frankly, I was surprised Aveil didn't take that into account and tie me up. Then I would have gotten free two or three minutes later then I did, depending on the type of knot."
Link laughed, but soon groaned, pressing a hand to his stomach. Sheik touched the edge of the long wound with alarm.
"Are you—"
"I'm fine." Link promised. "It looks worse than it is. It's not too deep."
"But it is still deep." Sheik's expression was pinched. "I should have thought to pack potions in my own gear. We put everything we had in yours." He unraveled the bandages wrapped around his one arm and skillfully covered Link's stomach wound with them. This was nothing more than a stopgap measure; once Link found Navi, she could heal him in an instant. She would have to, to eradicate the chance of infection that would be quite high otherwise.
"Listen, Sheik. I need you to do me a favor."
"Oh?"
"I need you to get them out of here."
Sheik nodded. "Once we're back with the horses, I can dress your wound more properly. We'll send the carpenters home, and then dive back in."
"No, Sheik. You misunderstand me. You are going to get them out of here. I am going to stay."
"Absolutely not. I won't allow it. It's far too dangerous to do this alone."
"Good thing I have the courage for it, then."
"Link!"
Link drew himself up tall. "Right now, I am the Hero of Time. You are in no position to tell me what to do when it concerns my quest to save Hyrule."
Sheik was incensed, but Link would not back down. He needed to know that the carpenters were safe and out of the way. Sheik was the only one he could trust with the task. And there was simply not enough time for them to escape and then return again. By the time they came back, the revolt might be stamped out, security tightened even higher. No, if they were going to finish this, they had to do it today.
"And take this." Link loosened the pouch from his belt and handed it to Sheik. "They're the medallions. We can't risk the Gerudos getting their hands upon them."
"But without them, how will you defend yourself?"
"I'll borrow one of their scimitars. Now go."
Surprising both of them, Sheik reached forward and grabbed Link's hand. He gave it a supportive squeeze before releasing it.
"I'll be back for you."
"Now do you agree with me that deserts really are the worst?"
The Sheikah chuckled humorlessly as he headed to the carpenters. "And we haven't even crossed into the Haunted Wasteland yet."
"And Sheik." Said man turned to look back at him. "Spare any Gerudos you come across, if you can."
"Is this one of those future things I don't know about?"
"Let's get through this mess first. Then we'll talk about it."
Sheik collected the brothers and ushered them out of the room. Link was alone with the pile of Gerudos. He picked over one of the women as demurely as he practically could, pulling out handfuls of throwing knives and slipping them into his boots and gauntlets. He also crammed in one of the sets of keys—he really couldn't be too prepared in this situation. He picked up one of the scimitars and was then at last on his way again.
He managed to walk for quite a ways without encountering anyone. When the sounds of voices and footfalls finally did reach his ears, Link dodged into the nearest room, shutting the door behind him.
Link was greeted by two pleasant surprises. Surprise number one—the room was bereft of any Gerudos. Surprise number two—a large treasure chest sat in front of him.
He waited until he heard the Gerudos in the hallway pass by before trying the keys he had in the lock. None of them worked. Mildly irritated, Link kicked at the lock. The metal must've been worn out from age; it split off after one kick.
Thought it was convenient, Link didn't smell a trap. He lifted open the chest. Inside were a bow and a quiver stuffed with arrows. He inspected the bow first; it was finely made, but nothing special. He set it down next to him. The quiver, he realized as he picked it up, all by thrummed with magical energy. The hero pulled out one of the arrows. Incomprehensible runes were scribbled across its length. Though Link was unable to translate the writing, the arrow was blistering cold to the touch—the hero was cunning enough to put two and two together.
He slipped the scimitar onto his belt, so it dangled by his side. Link placed an ice arrow on the bow's string, and pulled it half-taut as he exited the room. The ice arrows would be useful for stopping the Gerudo in their tracks without making the stop permanent. He only needed to aim for their legs, and the magic would incase their lower limbs in a sheet of ice, immobilizing them long enough for Link to make an escape.
The next room he entered had him drawing the arrow back all the way. Aveil's threats of torture had been more than idle words—for before him was a torture chamber with all the bells and whistles. A wave of revulsion passed through him; the dank room called to mind the wretched Shadow Temple. Various torture devices—so many that Link was struggling to recall the names of some of them—hung on the walls or were set up on the floors.
Stretched and strapped to the devices were many bodies. Link passed by them, doing his best to ignore the choke of rot, checking each one to see if they still lived. None did. Some seemed to have been stretched until their limbs tore from their bodies; others were caked in so much blood, Link couldn't even see where the wounds were inflicted. Almost all were men, and all without fail had the tips of their ears shorn off.
Link stepped deeper into the room, and his heart nearly stopped with grief at the sight before him. Mutoh was strapped to a black table, his stomach split open in large flaps of skin. The man's ashen face was a stark contrast to the vivid red of his stomach.
Link couldn't bear any more of it. He doubled over and heaved. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and spilled down his face.
A laugh echoed throughout the chamber.
"Oh, what a cute little reunion."
In front of Link was an ascending staircase that led to an open doorway. In the threshold stood Nabooru's second-in-command.
"Aveil!" His tone was harsh and hateful.
"I'm glad you managed to crawl all the way here—because you did so, I was able to see such a stupid expression on your face. You've become unmanned, and why? You hardly knew him!"
Link gritted his teeth. Her tone was confident, but Link had eyes which could see the truth.
"You're frightend."
She flinched. "You don't scare me, monster."
"I'm not the monster here." He had resigned himself long ago to killing monsters. What was one more?
He let fly an ice arrow. He caught a glimpse of her eyes widening in surprise before she darted back into the other room, getting out of range of his attack. The arrow embedded itself in the door frame, and constellations of ice sprouted up, overtaking half of the doorway.
Link cursed at his missed shot and bolted up the steps and into the room before Aveil could flee. She was waiting for him, and lunged with a scimitar. Link curled his hand into a fist and back-handed her wrist, knocking her grip loose from the weapon.
With her other hand she grabbed a fistful of his hair and cap, and smashed his face into her knee. The pain caused him to drop the bow. Quick as a snake, Aveil jerked his own scimitar from his belt.
He yanked his head out of her grip—she kept the cap and several blonde hairs—and stumbled back. He dashed away the fresh blood that came pouring out his nose.
"This is all your fault!" She lunged for him.
He sidestepped her thrust as he took out two of the blades hidden in his gauntlet. His reach was shorter, but at least he had one weapon per hand.
"You're the one who locked me up here in the first place!" He was parrying all her strikes so far, but he knew he would soon slip up. Such small blades were far from his forté.
"I can't trust anyone to watch my back for fear they might plunge a dagger through it!"
"Well maybe if you didn't kidnap and torture innocents—"
"Is that what they told you?" She got in a hit. A gash bloomed across the upper part of his arm, which wasn't protected by the thick leather of the gauntlets. Link swore that if he survived, he would find some decent chain mail for his ancestor. "We told the carpenters to leave. They refused. And then the four boys tried to corner one of my women and force her into having sex with them."
"Even if that's true," Link argued. "That doesn't excuse what you did to Mutoh!"
She sunk her scimitar into his stomach. He staggered back before falling to the ground. The arrows in his quiver were shook loose and tumbled out around him.
Aveil laughed. "This is the end for you, Hylian. Or should I say, Hero of Time? I had my suspicions when I met your, and further examination of your sword and interrogation of your fairy confirmed what I believed. Lord Ganondorf and Lady Nabooru will be so pleased that I managed to slay the meddlesome hero."
She was so busy gloating over her victory, that she didn't notice how Link's hands crept toward the bow and an arrow.
With the last of his strength, Link rolled onto his back and loosed the arrow.
His aim was perfect. The arrow sunk right into the center of her chest.
She looked at him with horror. Her lips were already tinged blue.
"You can't…do this…"
She let out a piercing wail of anguish as the ice enveloped her completely.
Link stared up at her, breath drawn in harsh dregs. Her face was forever frozen in a scream of agony.
With several groans and grunts, Link managed to get over to the desk. His items were all piled haphazardly there, but Navi was nowhere to be found. He didn't have the strength to stand (and the scimitar was still lodged in his gut) so instead he rested on his knees and propped his elbows up on the desk.
Link grabbed the item pouch closest to him—inside, among other objects, crowded four bottles. One had a bug in it, but he brought out the other three. Two red potions and one green one.
He uncorked the red potion, setting it down right under his chin. Then, he pulled the scimitar out and let it clatter to the floor. His vision spotted as he brought the potion to his lips. He was shaking so hard that most of the potion slopped onto the table and down his shirtfront. Once that bottle was drained, he grabbed the second red potion. His hands were now significantly steadier: most of the potion went down his throat this time. Link sighed as the two potions pumped through his veins, sealing off the areas where blood was flowing out of him, knitting up his busted organs.
He paused for a minute to let the potions take effect, and then rose. He still felt severely weakened, but he wasn't moments from death any longer. He took a few sips of the green potion before corking it again. Using the arrows had sapped his magic power a little, but not too much.
He slowly went through the process of putting all his gear back on, and relaxed slightly as he strapped back on the Master Sword. It was like reuniting with an old friend.
Now, where was Navi? He began to search through the desk drawers. Many were stuffed with letters and maps, but one had only a single scrap of leather. The image of a Goddess was stamped on it. She was not Nayru, Din, or Farore, but someone unknown to him.
A Gerudo rushed into the room.
"Aveil—" She gasped at the devastation of the room, at the block of ice. She spied the scrap of leather in Link's hand.
Link couldn't handle another fight. He just couldn't. But he rose from the chair anyway, ready to do battle if he had to.
Instead of attacking him, screaming at him, or anything of the number of things Link expected her to do, the Gerudo kneeled before him.
"What are you doing?" He asked, startled.
She did not lift her head.
"You have the token, my liege. Until King Ganondorf or Lady Nabooru return, you are now the Gerudo King."
-TBC-