Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters, nor the series or anything of or relating to said title-except some games, but I do not own the rights to any of it. I am not profiting from this. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
Chapter Two
Link holds onto Colin not willing to let Rusl down. The boy lets out a holler as the tug of war makes his body ach and stretch in ways he never knew possible. Finally, Link gives one final pull and both he and Colin land on the ground of the crawlspace. Gloved purple hands reach down and swipe at them making Link let out a gasp. He quickly rolls on top of Colin and struggles to keep himself steady as the hands pummel his back making him release grunts and groans.
"Get-away-from-the-hole," Link manages out as he lifts his body high enough for the child to slip out from under him.
Colin's vision seems to pulsate as he pushes himself away from the light. As Link begins to pull himself to a safe distance, one of the hands grab the back of his dirty blonde hair making him holler as his head rises partly above the entrance. Colin's scream is what gives Link the added strength to fight the force and free himself from the vice grip.
As the young man ducks back down with the forced release, he rolls to the left of the hole towards Colin and grabs the boy. Quickly, he leads to the safety of the darkness on all fours with Colin treading at his side. Link's heart pounds in the back of his throat as he watches a head lower down. His face twists in disgust as the upside down head turns looking for them out in the darkness. Neither of the boy's could see a face, but both knew it was something they had never seen before.
Link's hand lowers to the dirt and feels for a rock. The young man takes a shallow breath as he picks it up, winds his arm back, takes another breath and throws the stone landing it on the back of the figures head. With a yelp, it is gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared.
"Who are they—," Link quickly silences Colin with a hand over the boy's mouth.
"Not a word," he whispers so soft it makes a bird's feather seem sharp and jagged.
They sit on their knees waiting; listening to the footsteps above as an argument in a foreign tongue sounds off. There are hollers and then a loud thud as one of the horsemen knocks another to the floor of the stables. Link wraps an arm around Colin's shoulders as a fearful tear falls from the boy's eyes.
New footsteps sound at the entrance of the stables; the voice that follows is lower than the others and sharp enough to cut through brick. The words fall on the deaf ears of the boys as the voice lets out clicks, rolls, and odd vowels. Suddenly, there is silence and Link lets out the breath he has been holding and relaxes his shoulders.
"In an hour I'll go through the back and make sure they're gone before we leave," he whispers to the boy. "We have to wait though," he says. "I doubt they're gone."
Colin leans into Link and gives a faint nod.
"You no come out; we smoke you out," a voice hollers followed by laughter from the outside making Link's body stiffen. The Hylian is nearly unrecognizable with its thick accent.
"What does that mean?" Colin asks as he turns his head up to the young man.
Link's lips part as he looks to the brightness of the hole. "I'm not sure…" After a moment of his uncertainty, his eyes widen as an orange glow shoots from above the crawlspace entrance and glows down in wavering strengths. "Dear Farore," Link curses. Quickly, he shakes Colin. "We have to get out—,"
"But they're out there—,"
"We have to," Link urges as the fire above threatens to roast them alive. It does not take long for the thick black smoke to drop down to their level. Link is nearly blind as he leads the way to the small exit just along the eastern wall of the small space. He can hear Colin coughing from behind, but when he reaches back to help the child, his heart skips a beat; Colin is not there.
Link looks through the smoke wildly as he pulls the neck of his tunic up and over his mouth and nose. Another cough sounds but Link cannot determine which direction it comes from. Laughter taunts his ears from the beings outside as the flames in the stables rise and burn with such heat it makes Death Mountain Crater seem like a cooling oasis.
"Colin," Link calls out before a cough chokes him. He gasps for air as the smoke coats his lungs. "Colin!" he hollers again, but no answer falls onto his ears. It is as if the fire's smoke has wrapped its black fingers around Link's throat as he struggles to breath. His mouth opens to call again, but it only comes out in the language of coughs and chokes.
Suddenly, Link's body gives out below him. He lies face down in the dirt of the crawlspace; worry makes his brow furrow deeply even in his blackening vision. His hands dig into the earth, but he is too weak to pull himself—his lungs bleed for clean air and his eyes tear from the stingy smoke. With a final breath, his face drops to the dirt and his body accepts the burning heat.
"Link," a quiet voice beckons. "Please, Link… get up." There is a sniffle. "Please," the voice stretches out the vowel as it begs.
The young man nuzzles his head and lets out a moan as his raw throat burns for water. As his eyes open, he wishes he still slept. His vision is fogged for the time being, but his ears are well. Crickets chirp out in the land around him as a fire crackles and hisses its ease. Link's heavy eyes open once more and make out the soft chubby face of Colin; an orange glow lighting only half the boys face.
Colin's once blonde hair now rests atop of his head ashen and matted and his eyes are puffy as if he had been cry for years on end. The boy timidly watches as a few figures pass between him and Link and then off into the darkness. Link startles as laughter sounds behind him, but it is short lived and fades as the buzz of chatter surrounds both he and Colin.
Link gingerly pushes himself up; his hand holding his head as it spins in sickening circles. "Are you all right?" he asks as his eyes wince.
Colin's bottom lip quivers before a slow nod. "Are you?" he asks in a bone chilling whisper. Shadows dance off the child's face and give him the appearance of being hollow—empty, even. Link's mouth dryly hangs open as he thinks for an answer but before he can give it a purple cloaked figure approaches them.
It says nothing as it points towards Colin and waits for the young man to move to the boy's side. After an impatient moment, the figure pushes Link until he is where it wishes. Link stumbles to the ground on his weak legs and looks up as the figure lowers to a crotch before him. It roughly pulls at his hands until they are open, palms together. Link swallows hard as the figure then begins wrapping leather bindings around his wrists.
"You're not going to hurt us, are you?" he asks quietly as the figure continues its work.
The being stares at the young man through the slit of its purple headscarf. With the facial covering, all Link could read were its yellow eyes; they were strained on the lower lids and a harshness made Link nearly pity the thing. The young man tries again. "Are you going to hurt us?" he reiterates hoping the being understands him.
"Don't bother with that one," a soft masculine voice calls out. Both Link and Colin's eyes shoot to a rather svelte man with a delicate nose standing just out of the reach of the glowing fire. "She's a mute," he says before a forced frown at the figure. The man steps towards the three and places a hand on the woman's back making her body stiffen. "Barely understands the Gerudo tongue little lone your complex Hylian," he adds before letting out a sweet chuckle as the woman rises and leaves.
With urgency, the man lowers himself before Colin making his long black cloak puff out over the land below him. He takes the boy's hands; his eyes wandering around the black leather that restricts their movements.
"Are they too tight?" he asks; his voice nearly a whisper and black eyes filled with concern.
Frozen by the touch, Colin cannot answer. He watches the man for a moment before finally shaking his head as his eyes shoot to the ground.
"Good," the man says with a smile and short chuckle, "less discomfort for you on the road." The man's black gaze falls onto Link and the young man feels a knot twist in his belly. The man then takes Link's hands into his own. "And yours, dear one?" he asks without even examining them.
Link watches the man carefully. Something about it all seemed insincere—his smile almost mocking the boys and their restraints. Yet, something about his touch brought comfort to Link and nearly contradicted the man's awful grin.
Link takes his hands back. "No. They are fine," he says sternly.
"Excellent," the man says with a wicked smirk and eyes narrowing. He takes a breath and rises. "Forgive me, I am being positively uncivil," he says with a bashful turn of his head. "I am Lord Ghirahim Meikka; lord to no land, but given the title due to my trade," he says with an exaggerated bow. His chin rises first as he examines the boys' faces before he straightens back to his full height. A smirk plays at his lips as Link's brows knit.
Colin's eyes narrow slightly as his forehead crinkles. This lord was not like the other men he had seen before, but he was not so different either. Ghirahim had the face of a knight from stories of old—perhaps even that of a prince. His jaw was smooth and cheekbones high and shallow—but his eyes were the real wonder of his gentlemanly appearance. They sat wide and blacker than coal but when the flame's light flickered and licked them just right they would shine with violet and ultramarine.
"W-what is your business?" Link finally asks.
Lord Ghirahim Meikka releases a charming laugh filled with faux modesty. The man then turns his palms up and out as he gestures to the shadows amongst them just before the tree line. Link's eyes studies the shadows for a moment and, suddenly, he feels hot sick threatening his throat. The shadows are people—not just people, but children.
"I deal in Hylian trades," Lord Ghirahim says with a smirk and slight bow of his head as his hands lower back to his sides.
A gurgle sounds in the back of Colin's throat as he finds his voice. "What's going to happen to us?" he asks. It is a question not even Link is brave enough to ask.
"Don't you worry your little heart, child," the lord says with a long finger giving a gentle poke to the boy's nose. "You have the advantage, young one," he says and frowns slightly at the sound of his accent slipping through his lips when prior it had been undetectable. He takes a quick breath and, once again, he is all smiles at the boys.
"As stated by Gerudo Law, I am not permitted to sell or give any Hylian child under the age of twelve to any Gerudo unless said Gerudo has the ability to keep the child fed and clothed." Lord Ghirahim watches Colin for a moment as the words dance in the child's head. "So what all this means, sweet child, is you will be sold to someone who will care for you," he says as he reaches a hand out and ruffles the boy's already matted ashen hair.
Colin's eyes nearly wince as he absorbs the information. "What about Link?" he asks with his pitch a squeak of urgency.
Lord Ghirahim Meikka cocks an eyebrow and purses his lips with displeasure. His ebony eyes lazily look to Link and then back to Colin. "Child… you friend is rather…" he searches for the Hylian word, "pretty. It will not take long for him to sell. Children with his sort of look tend to be sold at higher prices. He won't go long without a good meal and nice bed, either." The man gives Link a wicked grin before turning his eyes back to Colin. "Gerudo like to keep their pretty slaves well kempt. Often times they only use them for… special occasions." Lord Ghirahim gives a short laugh as he turns back to Link. "You will probably never know the feeling of a calloused thumb, sweet boy, and that is truly a luxury."
Link shifts himself; a sudden discomfort making his skin itch and crawl.
Lord Ghirahim Meikka stretched for a moment; his eyes look out to the shadows of the other children and then return to the boys. "You two had better get some rest," he says with a raised brow and bored expression. "We start our march at sun rise." The man presses his lips together as his eyes look out to the distance with thought. "It will be a very long walk to the desert from here," he says almost to himself. As Lord Ghirahim turns away, he pauses abruptly; one hand rises to his lips before he turns back to them. "Forgive me, I should warn you; if your shoes are too small, leave them behind. They will only slow you down." He shakes his head with a sly smile and narrowed eyes. "And, trust me, boys, you do not want to be the one slowing the group down." He gives a quick shrug and takes a breath. "We have a very strict time limit and I cannot have someone keeping us from our day to day goals," he says simply before turning back and leaving the orange light of the fire.
As always, reviews are much appreciated and always welcomed!
~MsBBSue