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 Four
Colin stumbles on the sand dune as the children march on. The sun was scorching in these lands; it made his skin painfully red and caused blisters to form across his nose and down the back of his neck. He hated it, if he truly understood the vulgar word. He also hated the giant sandstone statues staring him down along the grooved path they followed.
The Land of Giants is what the children called the area and rightfully so. Every twenty yards or so, a new statue would loom over them; it's stone eyes glaring down at them as if they were intruders and these massive beings the guardians. As the children's chains sang out into the ever quiet desert, it was as if the stone giants kept not only the children silent, but the Gerudo as well.
"They're watching us," Colin whispers, his voice all but there. His eyes quickly look up at the stone faces and then back to the tangerine sand. "They're mad at us," he says, his voice dropping with his chin.
Link looks to the faces; the narrowed stone eyes glowering down at them as if their very presence irritated the giants. "They're just stone, Colin," he says, yet a part of him feels the same fear as the small boy before him.
"I don't like it," Colin says with his voice gaining back its strength from his long silence. The boy sniffles and tries his best to wipe his tears before the Gerudo take notice. "I'm scared, Link," he finally says and, for the first time in his young life, he truly was. Link licks his chapped lips and draws in a dry scratchy breath. The tone of Colin's voice was so damaged, so honest, that it nearly stopped Link in his tracks.
Link shakes his head. "You don't have to be. They aren't going to hurt us," he says quietly.
Colin's shoulders rise and fall with a heavy breath. "You saw what they did to all those boys." Colin presses his lips together. "What if it's us tonight—or the next time or the time after that?" A cry catches in the back of the small boy's throat. "Pierced and bleeding and dead," he whimpers out before catching a tear rolling down his face.
"It won't happen to us," Link says softly, his voice distant and eyes set on the back of the filthy child's head. Just as he opens his mouth to give words of reassurance, a tug on the chain from behind makes all ahead stumble and, those closest to the cause, fall.
Link looks back down the line at the other children and sees one lying on the ground. A little girl screams and cries for the child to stand back up; she pulls at the limp limbs and does her best to hoist the boy up onto his feet with her bound hands.
The two were siblings; their faces near exact copies of one another. Twins, perhaps; close enough in age that they both needed one another to survive, anyhow.
Link turns back forward, unwilling to see what the Gerudo will do to them.
There is a scream and then a cry, but, eventually, the line continues to move as it had many times before. This is what their days had become. From racing around their villages and laughing to horror, death, and starvation. Each day, they waited, for one child—sometimes two—would fall and when they fell, their lives were forfeit. They were free just as the young boys were who ran for their lives.
By midday, the horizon revealed a city and the stone giants became boar-like with giant tusks curving beneath their lips and snouts—yet they remained with eerily manlike qualities. With these new stone images, Colin found no relief to his fear. He much preferred the giants over the boars. None of the children dared to look up, not even Link.
As the city grew, a stone path emerged from the sand. The Gerudo ordered the children to stay on the sand, for stone was meant to be stepped on only by those whose blood came from the scorching lands. Not even Lord Ghirahim marched on the path.
With evening's blanket draping over the land, the city gates stood mere meters away. One of the Gerudo called out in a tongue that slithered and licked in the air with clicks and snaps only to have the gates open in return. Behind the walls stood the magnificence of the desert; tents and marquees made up most of the structures, while tall stone buildings made up the city's centre.
It was the colours that hit Link first; vibrant purples and reds coating the nearly brown stone buildings like capes, green and blue carpets that sat on the ground before entrances, purple flags that wriggled in the wind as if they were dancing to the unheard music of night. Then it was the smell. Jasmine and rose water greeted his tainted nostrils with the faded scent of freshly baked bread. It made Link's hunger burn a hole through his stomach lining all the while making him long for home more than ever.
As the line of children entered the gate, the women inside did not stare—Gerudo do not stare. Their amber eyes ignored the children as the women's long noses shot upturned. They did not like the sight of newcomers, even if they were to be slaves soon enough. As Colin's eyes scan the city's buildings, two young Gerudo race towards him, but their mother grips their hands and drags them back to a safer distance. The Gerudo girls had yet to understand that these children were not playmates.
The group march to the city's centre, the Bazaar—a market place of sorts where only the truly dirty dealings happened. Anywhere from the selling of goat's blood for medical remedies to the profiteering of the slaved both of the young and the old; it was all dealt here.
It was where the homely children, as Lord Ghirahim so eloquently put, would be sold. As the Gerudo lead them, they quickly begin cutting the chains off the selected children and escort them out onto a platform draped by soft purple and blue curtains.
Colin watches as a group of children stand on the stage. Some are scared and crying while those whose journeys were longer stand emotionless; their eyes dead. They're herded like sheep and no matter how much they fight back and beg to be put back onto their leashes, their pleas fall into deaf ears. Colin reaches out and grips Link's hand as one of the Gerudo pass by; her eyes narrowing at him.
"It's all right," Link whispers as his own eyes follow the same Gerudo. "Everything will be fine. Just stay with me," he says with a trace of a tremble of his own uncertainty.
"Are we being sold?"
"No—," not here. Link's sapphires shoot up to the platform as the curtains open up and a booming voice calls out to the growing crowd below. Her words are incomprehensible as Link watches her bring a little girl to the front by the scruff of her neck.
The child's teeth are crooked, her eyes two different colours and hair a wild mass of curls mixed with twigs. She was older than most of the children—her maturing body growing into the young woman she may or may never see.
Colin jumps as yelling sounds off in the crowd. Hands fly up and, though it takes a moment for understanding, he realizes they are auctioning off the girl. The hollers and hands fly for nearly five minutes. Perhaps it was because the child had long legs and strong arms—or maybe because she had the odd eyes. Whatever it was, though to Lord Ghirahim she was homely, these Gerudo believed she was a worthy prize.
Just as the child is taken off the platform to meet her master, a new child is brought forth. A boy with dark hair and light eyes—closer to Colin's age and nearly as bashful as him. He covers his face as the women below holler out their prices. It doesn't take long for him to sell as the crowd slowly silences its hollers.
"The chances he survives past adolescence are very low," a voice says. Link turns his head to the source and sees Lord Ghirahim. The lord's white hair catches the light of a near by torch and shines like liquid silver. "His price was lowered because of that," he says as his ebony eyes watch the platform with a near excitement.
"Why would it matter?" Link asks softly.
Lord Ghirahim scoffs. "Do not play so innocent, sweet child," he says through the side of his mouth. "They are an all female race. Without man, they would cease to exist."
Link feels a shiver crawl up his back.
"It's the older boys they like. Less of a chance of them dying before they can do what they were bought to do," the man says before brushing an itch on his perfect delicate nose. "At times, I am thankful that was not the fate His Majesty wished to bestow upon me," he adds with a smirk. "Don't get me wrong; a night of fun I'm all for… but… this is a little more than just one night… they'll have with you until you are bone dry, dear boy."
"Is that what I'll be bought for?" he asks as Colin watches a new group line up before the steps of the platform.
Lord Ghirahim pushes back his black and gold cloak revealing his slender shoulders. "If the prophecy is false, you will be bought and sold to a woman who wishes for a daughter." He takes a deep breath. "Chances have it she will use you and pass you through her sisters until the day comes that you either bring no more children or die."
"I don't want that," Link says softly as his eyes fall to the sand below.
"No one wishes for death, child," Lord Ghirahim says with a soft grin that makes his eyes crease in the corners. "It would take true suffering for one to wish for it. Even then, fewer are granted it when they seek it," he says before turning his black eyes back to the platform.
"What if the prophecy is true?" Link asks after a moment as an older boy is lead off the stage.
Lord Ghirahim shakes his head. "You can say goodbye to that little boy and anything else you ever cared for." He furrows his brow. "Death will be the only outcome if the princess' dream proves to be true."
Link licks his lips and furrows his brow. "Is there any good outcome?"
"Depends on who you ask." Lord Ghirahim pushes back his white hair as his bangs tumble into his eyes. "I would say yes for I profit from every little body that comes into my possession. Ask a Gerudo and she would also say yes for she earns her keep for every one of those tiny Hylians. Her reputation grows with every small slave she has in her household." Lord Ghirahim makes a face. "Ask His Majesty and he would also give you the same answer, for he would still be able to rule whether or not the prophecy is true because he has had his women march the lands around the desert and drag back every little blond haired blue eyed boy." He shakes her head. "He has certainly secured his safety.
"However, if you were to ask yourself, I fear you would receive a no because either way you look at it, your outcome is rather dull." Lord Ghirahim crosses his arms. "And, between you and me, there is never really a good end to such a terrible beginning."
"You would have me killed?" Link asks, his jaw slacked as he looks back at the Lord of Slaves.
"You, that little boy, my best Gerudo—I would have everyone killed if it meant His Majesty could sleep better at night. He is my master, sweet child. Hopefully, with any luck, you will understand that wonderful bond between the served and server." Lord Ghirahim looks back to the stage and sucks his teeth as a child is taken off stage. "No sale…" He shakes his head.
"What does that mean?" Colin's face twists to Link and the lord.
"Tomorrow she will be released," Lord Ghirahim says with a sigh before rushing a hand through his hair. "She will be free—," he waves his hand in the air as if to cut the boys' thoughts in half, "—not in the way these Gerudo know the word… but released, able to live out the rest of her days."
Colin presses his lips together as he watches in envy as the girl is led away. "I hope I do not sell," Colin nearly whispers.
Lord Ghirahim places a hand on the child's shoulder and lets out a chuckle. "For your sake, sweet thing, so do I."
As always, reviews are much appreciated and always welcomed!
~MsBBSue