Hero of the Zonai

by bladeofthebookworms

A brutal war between the Zonai and Sheikah peoples sends ripples throughout the kingdom. In the midst of the violence, a young Zonai warrior discovers a mysterious ancestor, who urges him to see beyond the plight of his people. For peace is elusive, and Hyrule's greatest threat has yet to emerge. T for violence.

53. Guardian's Quest

Chapter 53: Guardian's Quest

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Link

He set out at dawn, calling Beira to his side with his hand glowing green. The wolfdog trotted beside him as he walked away from the hastily-erected army camp, and he asked her wordlessly to let him know when they passed beyond their scouts. She wagged her tail once, pressing affectionately against the side of his leg.

When she gave a quiet yip, he veered off the road, into the tangled wilderness. Climbing under the low-hanging branches of an evergreen he transformed once more into a wolf and set out in disguise, Beira following loyally as ever.

They shouldn't notice us as we approach, he thought, eyes narrowed as they trotted northwards on the side of the road. His nose twitched at the scent of blood and death as they approached the scene of yesterday's disastrous battle. Two predators wandering through the wilderness near a battlefield shouldn't rouse any concern.

But as he passed the dead, his heart ached, seeing them lying in their gore and knowing full well that he had brought them here. There were so many of them… too many. And still others, who had been grievously wounded, passed on in the night under the care of Zonai shamans. Their remains would be laid to rest, but these…

Sighing deeply, he trotted out onto the road. He scanned the trees, listening and sniffing deeply for any sign of Blood Wolves, but the stench of blood and death was so strong that he couldn't make out anything beyond it.

I can always run f'I need to, now that it's just me and Beira, he reminded himself. Howling the Song of Healing, he went from one fallen warrior to the other, bathing them in spirit flame until all that was left was ash. Beira joined in the howling, though of course without any sense of tone or melody. He hoped she would distort the sound of his own howls to those undoubtedly within earshot; warily he glanced frequently down the road, scanning for anyone approaching.

At last the deed was done, and Link returned to the shrubbery off the side of the road, keeping himself hidden from human eyes. As they left the battlefield behind, the stench of death lessened, though it did not entirely go away. Link caught a whiff of a new smell – a stinging, burning smell like blood and pepper that made his eyes water. He realized, spotting a horned silhouette in a tree watching the road, that this was the scent of the Blood Wolves. Glaring at the man, he took mental note of his location and padded onward.

There were more scouts the further he traveled. They paid no notice to him or Beira; if they did see him, they made no move to attack. Spotting wildlife wouldn't be an uncommon experience on guard. Stifling an angry growl, he pressed onwards.

He encountered their first military camp a relatively short distance from the walls of Orthon. The magenta flame of Khanot burned on many of the torches erected throughout the camp, he noticed with a curled lip. But the fact that the medical tent was occupied with freshly injured men, and that the camp was outside of the city, gave him some hope. Perhaps Orthon put up more f'a fight than I feared.

Eager to find out for certain, he quickly traveled the rest of the distance to the city walls. His heart swelled seeing them – the great statues of dragons, the indomitable height, the green banners flowing in the wind. The sun was setting by then, but he continued around the perimeter of the walls until he reached the southern gate – or rather, as close to the gate as he could manage.

There was a large force of Boar Tribe warriors camped just outside of the gates, red-dyed tents standing out like mounds of blood between the trees. The gates themselves, Link noticed with a sickening feeling, were wide open. Men passed freely in and out.

Link glanced around, scanning for a tree that looked climbable and didn't have a Blood Wolf perched in its branches. Finding one along the outskirts, he leapt for the lowest branch and clumsily pulled himself up, hind paws scrabbling at the trunk. Carefully he climbed higher, realizing warily that though his balance was better as a wolf, climbing was nonetheless something this body was entirely unsuited for.

He reached the tallest limb that he felt confident would bear his weight and peered across the city.

Orthon had been carved by the Dracozu river flowing through it from the Spring of Courage. Come spring, the roads were turned to streams as snow melted from the mountains and joined the river itself, swelling its waters and turning it into a devastating force. To compensate for the flooding, the city had three terraces each supported by sturdy walls around floodgates to control the flow of water. The lowest terrace was accessed through the southern gates, and as darkness fell he could easily see the burning red of Khanot's corrupted flame on torches set along the river and on street corners. Link's lip curled. So they've made it at least into th'first terrace.

He could also see the little orange glimmers of their matchlocks, the fuses lit and ready to fire, at the bottom of the wall separating them from the next terrace up. The stairway up to the next level was blocked off; Link could just make out the bulging broken shapes of large chunks of stone all piled together. There were more pinpricks of light from matchlock fuses at the top of the terrace, and no sign of the red flame beyond.

Interesting, he thought, his brow furrowing. Th'Blood Wolves and th'defenders f'Orthon are lined up along th'wall with their muskets. So that f'anyone tries t'come up or down, they'll instantly get shot. His heart lifted – there was a good chance, then, that Orthon had not been entirely corrupted. But he couldn't know for sure, and he certainly couldn't make any helpful observations about the status of the defenders, from beyond the city walls.

I have t'get inside.

He climbed precariously down from his tree, jumping lightly from one branch to the next. His paws slipped on one and he fell the rest of the way, crashing past the other branches in the tree – branches that slowed his fall and kept him from breaking any bones, but that nonetheless left him in a painfully bruised heap at the bottom. He lay still for a moment, dazed, and Beira's face came into view above him. She licked his nose concernedly, an alien sensation that startled him back to full alertness. Wincing, he pushed back to his feet and trotted back towards the wall, this time heading east towards the one other gate into the town east of the city, leading to the second terrace.

But it had been collapsed – perhaps intentionally, he thought, thinking about how seemingly easily the Boars had breached the first level of the city. There was another large camp of the Boar Tribe by the gate, which showed signs of their attempts to breach it – pickaxes and shovels, chunks of stone missing, ropes tied around the larger pieces of stone blocking up the entrance.

The city hasn't been completely overrun, he concluded in relief. But… th'corrupted Boar Tribe made it t'th'first level and has it under siege. Which means they likely have th'surrounding regions under control as well.

He traveled with Beira along the city wall northward, towards the steep mountainside from which the Spring of Courage originated, housed within the gaping maw of a massive dragon carved from stone. He found one more camp of the Boar Tribe in the foothills, but it was fairly small – mostly scouts, he presumed, making sure no one in the city tried to escape over the wall on this side. Beyond the camp, the mountainside was steep enough that no human, let alone an army, would be capable of scaling it with any ease. Link leapt from one rocky outcropping to another, panting heavily, climbing up the side of the mountain and veering west around the back of the city. By now night had fallen fully, and from this height he could see the points of burning red from the lowest terrace in the city as well as the ordinary orange of matchlock fuses lining the wall on both sides.

He continued his climb, Beira at his side, until he was directly above the great dragon statue housing the Spring of Courage. Heart pounding, he descended carefully, paws slipping and sliding on loose gravel and ice and snow. Feeling as though he was about to lose his footing at any second he leapt the last several yards to the top of the dragon's head, his ankles jarring painfully at the impact. Wincing, he shook his paws and looked around for some way to get to the ground below without breaking all of his bones. The dragon's head dropped steeply away on both sides; he couldn't climb down at all. He stalked to the tip of the dragon's nose and looked down; the Spring of Courage and the head of the Dracozu River were directly beneath him, unfrozen despite the cold. Link exhaled deeply, glancing once more to either side of the dragon's head.

There's no other way down.

Heart in his throat, he jumped off the edge of the dragon's nose. Wind rushed around his fur and he was weightless for a moment. Then he struck the water and the breath was knocked from his lungs as he plunged deep into the water. Dazed and immobilized by the impact, he drifted for a moment before he managed to get moving, paddling towards the surface. His paws and tail propelled him surprisingly quickly through the water; his head breached the surface and he eagerly gulped down a mouthful of air, his pulse racing in the wake of the surge of adrenaline from the fall.

His heart jolted as he found himself suddenly staring down the barrel of a musket, and he froze, eyes wide, waiting for the inevitable burst of thunder that would spell his doom.

Then the musket barrel was lowered, and he saw the badger pelt and antlers shadowing the face behind it.

"Well, well," chuckled a kindly voice he thought he'd never hear again. "Fancy seeing y'here, Link! Let's get y'out f'that water, shall we?"

He held out a hand, and unthinking Link held out a paw in return. Frokar the shaman of Lohsitho grasped the paw tightly in both hands and pulled him closer to the shore onto solid ground. Link trotted a few steps away from the shore and then shook the water from his fur, far enough from Frokar that he wouldn't get caught in the spray.

There was a sudden pounding of footsteps and bright torchlight sweeping up the road towards them, and Link found himself instantly surrounded by Zonai warriors, mostly of the Owl Tribe.

"A wolf!" one of them exclaimed, gripping his spear defensively. "S'that what th'splash was?"

"He must have leapt from th'top f'th'Dragon," Frokar said calmly. "Clearly not just a wild beast – look at th'mark on his brow. Th'spiraling mark f'th'drifting soul, a symbol f'our people. I expect he's a messenger from th'Guardian."

Link's breath caught in his throat and he half-choked on it, taken aback by how quickly Frokar had connected him to the Guardian. Then he remembered that Frokar had actually seen Twilight, shortly before Link told him about his wolf form.

"I'll take him into th'Grafensted," Frokar told his companions. "I'll see what message he has for us from th'Guardian. This could not have come at a better time."

One of the Owl warriors nodded grimly, while another scratched his head, looking skeptical. "Sure," he muttered. "We'll continue our patrol."

"We'll go t'th'Skeldrite chamber," Frokar murmured, once the warriors had departed. "We'll be able t'speak freely there, and I'd wager it's been a while since y'performed th'ritual."

Unlike the other Grafensteda of the Zonai, Orthon's was not a square pyramid. Rather, it was set into the mountainside itself, and the entrance was through the massive dragon statue's jaws. The first room of the Grafensted was actually the Spring of Courage itself. The crypt was reached only after passing through both the maw of the dragon and the sacred spring. Link had always appreciated the symbolism, though he had rarely been to the Grafensted itself. With their path illuminated by comforting green spirit flame, they walked into the crypt and travelled through the winding paths to the Skeldrite Chamber deep in the mountain.

Link transformed back into human form, sighing deeply once the pain of twisting bones and muscle had passed. "I'm glad you're alive," he said at once, looking at Frokar intently. "I… figured you'd died on th'Great Plateau."

"No," Frokar said grimly. "Though it was a near thing. And f'course I feared y'had met that fate as well, until this very moment." His eyes narrowed as he peered at Link's face, studying the badly faded paint of the Skeldrite, barely visible now. "Y've been through a terrible ordeal, lad. Th'spirits have been working hard t'keep y'alive through it all… and you've learned a good many secrets ahead f'your time, haven't you?"

Link winced slightly. "I've… learned a lot about spirit magic," he admitted, beginning to undress for the Skeldrite ritual. "I know how t'heal, and free unburied souls. And I can fight against evil magic, though that may be more t'do with this." He showed Frokar the back of his hand, where the mark of the Triforce gleamed in the green spirit light.

"Y'were chosen by th'Goddesses," Frokar nodded slowly. "Yes… it certainly always seemed that your spirit was destined for some great feat." He pushed to his feet and headed out of the little chamber, calling over his shoulder, "Replenish th'marks f'th'Skeldrite. When you're finished, I'll be very interested t'hear f'everything you've done since we parted."

Link nodded, pulling his gambeson over his head and carefully setting it with the rest of his gear. Drawing in a deep breath of the sweet-tasting, slightly damp air of the deep mountain cave, he turned his attention to the torch set in the center of the chamber, closing his eyes and feeling the tie to his ancestors. This was so different from the last time he had performed the Skeldrite ritual, he reflected. The peace and comfort of a true Zonai Grafensted, not one that was corrupted by Khanot's false flame or demolished by Sheikah machines and miners, had no equal. He could almost feel his ancestors around him, wrapping their arms around him, surrounding him in their love.

The Zonai dead here were free and at peace. It was entirely unlike the subjugated spirits at Skeldon, locked behind a wall of wicked magic.

I'll do everything I can t'keep Orthon free, he vowed silently, a fierce sense of protectiveness burning in his heart. We will cast off Khanot's influence.

There was a soft whoosh as the spirit torch ignited in front of him. Link opened his eyes and began applying the marks of the Skeldrite, accepting his ancestors' aid. The mark of Farore on his abdomen, the mark of Nayru in the middle of his chest, the mark of Din on his shoulders.

The mark of the Dragon upon his brow. A mark with new significance now that he had seen two of the Dragons in person, and received gifts from them. He shook his head slowly in bewilderment.

He put his armor on and called Frokar back into the chamber. The shaman sat cross-legged on the ground, his hands folded calmly in his lap.

"Alright, lad," he said. "Tell me, what's happened t'y'since th'Great Plateau?"

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

They sat in silence as the night wore on, spirit flame flickering around them. Link had finished talking some minutes ago, and waited anxiously for Frokar to speak. He was well past the point of exhaustion, but worry and uncertainty kept him awake. He had kept nothing back – not even his allegiance with the Sheikah, and for that he feared the shaman's condemnation. Frokar gazed deeply into the flames, his gaze solemn and his frown deep.

"So," he said at last. "Dohmos has returned to Hyrule, and even now has much of it under control. And he is to blame for our troubles here." He sighed deeply, shaking his head.

"After th'Great Plateau," he began, leaning back against the wall, "I felt that I needed t'stay in Orthon instead f'returning t'Lohsitho. I can't explain it any more than that – it was a feeling, plain and simple. So I made my way t'th'City f'th'Dragon, and I've been there since. There were a great many soldiers there – wounded who had been sent home t'recover, and great war heroes like yourself, given some time t'rest while th'action at th'front was slow. I did what I could t'help them.

"Then, some weeks ago now, an envoy came from Mokhtis," Frokar growled, his tone dark. "A shaman wearing a black skull came t'me and th'other shamans here, while his companions waited in th'first terrace. He held an evil flame and told us it came from a god. I convinced my fellows that it was a lie, that this was th'power f'Dohmos at work. We sent him from our Grafensted, only t'find that while we had been speaking, his companions had started attacking our people on th'first terrace. Those slain rose from th'dead t'fight against us as people fled in terror for th'stairs up t'th'next level. But th'flood and their panic kept reinforcements from likewise getting down t'th'fight. At th'same moment, there was another force attacking th'east, preventing anyone from fleeing down th'mountain road t'call for help. We collapsed th'gate t'keep them out on that side. It was a bloody battle… many were lost, civilian and soldier alike. But we managed t'blockade th'stairway, and as f'yet we've successfully held them back."

Link nodded grimly, Frokar's explanation matching his own observations. "I've brought th'armies f'th'Zonai with me," he said gravely. "They sent me ahead t'scout out th'Boar Tribe's positions. I'll do a little more reconnaissance tomorrow, and then return t'th'Generals and report. F'y'can hold on just a bit longer…"

Frokar's gray eyes were steel. "We'll hold out as long as is necessary," he vowed. "We face th'very fires f'Dohmos himself – this is th'battle we and our ancestors have been anticipating since th'dawn f'our people."

Link returned to wolf form and slept in the Skeldrite chamber until dawn. Frokar and a few soldiers had propped a ladder up against the side of the dragon statue so that he could get back up. It was still fairly dark when he emerged from the Grafensted; he hoped the darkness would help keep him hidden as he left the city. He climbed up the ladder to the top of the dragon statue and bounded back to the steep mountainside, where Beira was loyally waiting for him. Together they headed west around the back of the city and then turned south, keeping close to the walls.

On this far western side of the city, Link was surprised and relieved to discover not a single camp of Boar Tribe warriors – they had not entirely encircled the city. The only camp he encountered was the same one he'd seen the previous day, just outside the southern gate into Orthon. He traveled further west, beyond Orthon, anxious to see what had become of Guthtwin and Lohsitho. His heart sank as the stench of Khanot's evil flame strengthened as he neared Guthtwin; the village was swarming with Boar Tribe warriors, and the red flame burned on every torch. His heart clenched.

So… so Groose has either been corrupted as well, or he's dead, he thought, bowing his head. He dared sneak deeper into the village, hoping to find something to prove one way or the other – if Groose was alive, there was a chance he could be convinced of the evil of the red flame, just like Gotvin. The stench of the flame was strong, but not so much so that he couldn't distinguish the scent of the corrupted Boar Tribe warriors beneath. With Beira waiting just outside the village he hurried towards Groose's workshop, keeping to the shadows and roads he knew to be little-used. He had grown up here, in part – he knew the best ways to get through the village.

The workshop was heavily guarded, several Blood Wolves blocking the door and each of the windows. Link climbed onto a nearby rooftop and from there leapt to the top of the workshop, crouching low to keep those on the ground from spotting him. There must be a reason they're guarding his home, he thought, although with the guards all around he didn't know how he could find out. Then he heard voices through the roof and froze, listening anxiously.

"Just eat th'soup, hang you!" came a frustrated voice – not Groose, Link noted in disappointment. "No, stop – stop playing with it!"

There came a delighted deep-throated chuckle. "Mighty Rooster doesn't eat soup, silly human! Rooster needs grain and corn, t'grow strong, strong wings! Then fly away, find lots and lots f'hens!" Another laugh, and a wet splattering sound.

Link felt as though his stomach had dropped out of his body. Groose… he's alive! He… he thinks he's a rooster?

The first voice let out a disgusted groan. "Urgh! By th'Boar, f'we hadn't been ordered t'keep y'unharmed – y'just wait!" The door opened, and a Blood Wolf emerged, splattered in what smelled like beef broth. His face was nearly as red as the marks on his face.

"There's always th'chance he'll snap out f'his madness," one of the other wolves sniggered. "A lot less fun for us t'watch, but t'least he'll be useful again."

"Shut up," the soup-drenched Blood Wolf muttered crossly. "You try and feed him next time."

Link's heart was pounding violently. Eager to clear his mind, he leapt to the next rooftop over and then down to the ground, rushing back to the wilderness on the edge of the village where Beira was waiting.

Groose has lost his mind, he thought, feeling numb with the shock of it. He's not corrupted or dead… he's gone mad! He… he needs help. I need t'get him out f'there!

He paced restlessly, and Beira whined softly in concern, watching him with her head slightly tilted to the side. Link sighed, his head drooping. No… no, I can't get him out f'there just yet. Not with how heavily guarded he is – not with Orthon in so much danger. He's not going t'be killed, it sounds like. He… he can wait, at least for a bit.

Gritting his teeth, he trotted northwards, beckoning to Beira with a flick of his tail. The village of Guthtwin was directly between Boar and Dragon lands, so he could be certain that the corruption had entirely engulfed Boar territory. They had pushed into Dragon's lands enough to nearly encircle the city of Orthon, but he hadn't seen or smelled any sign of them west of the city. But there's plenty f'them south. Th'question is where exactly their reach ends.

He could smell them north of Guthtwin, on the road leading to Lohsitho. His heart ached with worry for Azrun, especially with Frokar – once one of the best defenders of the little village – stuck in Orthon instead. The question had plagued his heart for weeks now, though he hadn't had to confront it directly until now. Is my sister safe? Is she corrupted, too? Are th'crypts f'my parents defiled?

He felt a growing trepidation as he neared the village and passed a large camp of the Boar Tribe on the road with many Blood Wolves among them, their rancid scent easy to discern on the wind. But past them the air was clear – he reached Lohsitho without finding any additional sign of the Boar Tribe. Hidden in the bushy boughs at the base of a fir tree he looked out upon the valley, his heart filled with longing. For a moment he wanted to transform right there, walk into the village – he could see ancient Winfor in the watchtower, peering anxiously out in the direction of the Boar Tribe encampment. A soft whine whistled out from his nose; his heart ached with dread and longing. Even remembering how disastrous his last visit had ended up, he still somehow wanted to go home. To see his sister.

Keeping out of Winfor's limited field of view, he trotted closer to the village and the tall stake walls keeping him from his home. The temptation grew stronger – transform and head into the city. It would be easy.

But… Orthon needs me. It needs th'armies. I've learned what I needed to – I'm wasting time now. Time that Orthon needs.

His ears perked as he heard voices coming from the gate. "What're y'going out there for, lass? That army hasn't moved off yet."

"I won't go far," a young girl promised, and Link's heart sank a bit – it wasn't Azrun. That would've been too much t'hope for, he thought glumly, turning away from the village.

"I'll watch after her," another voice promised, and his heart lifted again – that was definitely Azrun. "She just wanted t'gather up some pinecones."

He turned around, listening to the creak of timbers as the gate opened. He saw Azrun and a much younger girl walk out into the woods; the younger girl rushed to the nearest pine tree and began digging around the snow at the base. Azrun looked on, warily gazing out at the forest.

Link exhaled heavily. It was enough to see that she was safe, he thought. It was enough to see that there wasn't any of the red flame in the village. Now I'll go back t'th'army… but it'll be different now. They'll need me out on th'front, fighting th'Blood Wolves. I… I won't be doing many more scouting missions.

He looked at Beira, who had been left behind so many times in the past months. She had done her best to stay by his side through it all, but there were places she simply couldn't go with him. Places it would be unfair of him to ask her to go.

It's… it's time for Beira t'stay home.

He turned to the wolfdog and lightly rested his head on top of her neck. "Thank you," he told her. "You've been brave; you've helped me learn how t'use my abilities in this form, and y'helped me stay safe. Now… now I need y't'stay here, and protect Azrun."

Beira's tail wagged happily. She knew exactly where she was – she knew that this was her home, even after traveling all across the kingdom.

Then she looked at him with some concern, tilting her head slightly. She was still worried about him, especially after what she had seen. He pressed his nose deep into her fur.

"Don't worry," he said comfortingly. "I'll be alright. I'll come back and visit someday. But now I need y'here, t'watch th'sheep and protect Azrun."

Beira's tail wagged again. She liked the sheep, and she liked Azrun. With a soft yip she bounded from her hiding place, tail waving high, hurrying over to Azrun.

Azrun gave a start when she noticed the massive dog, and at once her face broke into a wide smile. "Beira!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around the dog. Beira licked her face happily. Link looked on, safely hidden amongst the trees, feeling a peculiar ache and a warmth in his heart.

He turned around and trotted deeper into the forest away from Lohsitho, back the way he'd come. She's safe, he thought. She'll be alright. Especially with Beira t'help her.

He reached the encampment of the Zonai armies by evening and returned to human form. His first destination was the Generals' tent, with their maps of the region. He pointed out the Boar Tribe positions as accurately as he could from what he had observed, and explained the state of the defenders of Orthon. His report given, they dismissed him, and he left the tent to set up his bedroll by one of the fires, falling into a much needed sleep.