The Waters of Nayru
Chapter 19: The Fall
By, Frank Hunter

There was nothing at all to interfere with Rigo's plunge off the cliff. The fall lasted only for a brief moment, but that moment seemed to draw out into time like a thread pulled from a piece of cloth. Rigo felt as though he were flying. It was a beautiful sensation. The wind pushed at him to keep him afloat, and he spread his arms like a bird to soar on the thermals.

When time finally pressed forward, his body slammed hard against the surface of the lake. Cold, fresh water filled every orifice and he gasped, inhaling a gulp of water. His arm slammed against an unfortunately placed rock and there was a snap, but Rigo was so deep into shock and beyond pain that he only observed this in a detached, curious way. Besides, he had bigger problems.

He kicked and drew for the surface to get a lungful of precious air. The snappy arm for some reason refused to help get him there, and he tried to yell at it, to tell it to work, but no sound would come out under the water.

When he finally breached the surface he was choking and sputtering and spitting up water. His hair was soaked through and clinging to his head, and he was heavy and confused, but still alive. Still alive.

Having had only minimal experience in the river at home, his swimming skills were not particularly advanced. But, he did have enough know-how to float in a resting position on his back, and so he did this as best he could with three working limbs. While floating there, he lowered his lips to the surface of the lake, and allowed himself to take big mouthfuls of precious water, swirling it around his tongue, swallowing, and repeating. It was heaven. He'd almost forgotten the feeling of cold water, and clarity began to return.

He looked up at the lip of the cliff he'd jumped from. It wasn't miles tall, but damn if it wasn't high. At the top now, he could see two specks of orange light hovering but not falling. The Gerudo guards who had chased him. Sooru must have heard his explosive escape after all. How close had it been to the end for him?

Well, Nabooru said. It was none too graceful, but I think you got away.

Rigo sighed in relief, and laid back, floating in the water. He was due to begin nursing an overwhelming amount of fatigue and stress, but he wasn't ready to take on that responsibility just yet. The current was drifting him along slowly, and he did his best to rest while it did, enjoying the cold of it all over his body. The orange lights at the top of the cliff disappeared, the guards apparently retreating back into the safety of the desert.

Your arm's bleeding, by the way, Nabooru pointed out.

"Yeah," Rigo sputtered. "I'll deal with it in a minute." He closed his eyes. Some of the pain was starting to come to him as his heart rate returned to normal and the initial shock wore off, but it hadn't surpassed his desire to rest yet. He'd wait until it did.

He found rest to be an effort in futility, though. Even so long as he could block the physical pain from overcoming him, the emotional baggage was still attached. He could see Amili's terrified eyes and the cocky smirk behind Sooru's mask. And the Chalice. That he could see clear as day, it had so etched itself in his imagination. It may have saved his life, but it would cost the lives of far too many others if he didn't do something about it.

"How do we get back into the desert?" he sputtered.

Rigo heard only silence for a minute until the sound of an incredulous giggle came back to him. Then another. And then it erupted into a full-out fit. Nabooru was laughing at him.

Kid, I think I like you. she said around her laughter. You're relentless, and goal-oriented, and just a little bit crazy.

"There's gotta be a quick way back up," Rigo said.

I told you before, you've gotta recover some. You're gonna walk weeks through the desert, maybe take on an army single-handedly, with no food or water and…yeah, that looks like a broken arm. Sounds like a good idea?

"It's all I can think about."

That doesn't mean you've gotta do it stupid. A little planning goes a long way. They're gone already, so a couple days to pull yourself together won't make or break us.

Us? Rigo thought that was the first time he'd heard Nabooru refer to them collectively, together. It felt unusual to him, but he didn't mention it. She'd sworn to help him, and they would be together now until the task was done. As well as whatever mystery task it was that she wanted. He hadn't forgotten about that little promise.

First thing's first, you should get out of the water and tend to that arm. I can teach you to sling it, if you don't know how.

"I got it," Rigo said, and flipped over onto his stomach to swim for the shore.

At some point, though, as he was floating through the water, the current had picked up significantly. He hadn't noticed, on his back with his eyes shut, but it had pulled him into a small tributary off the lake and kept pulling him downstream. This had the benefit of being narrower than the lake itself, but with water that was moving ever-faster every second.

Rigo tried to swim for the shore, but he found himself fighting against the current and kicking uselessly with the weight of his waterlogged cloth and leather gear still wrapped around him. Additionally, the one arm, which was now beginning to scream at him in pain as he tried to move it, could not be used for swimming at all. In short, all he managed to do more or less was flop around painfully in place.

You know, you need to swim to get out, Nabooru inserted.

"I understand that," Rigo said through clenched teeth.

I'd suggest you get it done soon.

Rigo shot a look over his shoulder and found himself filled with dread. Up ahead, he could see the white water of rapids breaking around rocks and curves. This was about to become a bumpy ride.

"Crap!" he exclaimed. He started kicking harder, bracing himself against the pain as best he could, but it was too little too late. The water had picked up speed now, and Rigo was being carried into the current like a piece of driftwood. The first drop shook him, as the riverbed gave way and he went over a few short feet of waterfall. His leg hit against the rocky bottom, though his boot was, at least, helpful in protecting him against this kind of harm. He tried to remember what it is you're supposed to do in this situation.

You really have zero survival instinct in that little brain of yours, don't you? Nabooru said.

"Shove it," Rigo tried to respond, but instead he just gurgled up lake water. Rigo noted, if he didn't particularly appreciate, the irony that the water, the cool, cold answer to his prayers, had become such a danger in and of itself. He thought that the Sand Goddess or some other ethereal creature had to be having a hell of a laugh at his expense right about now.

Get your feet forward, Nabooru said. It's safer that way.

Rigo complied and flipped back onto his back, returning to the floating position he was in earlier. He didn't feel any safer.

This can't go on forever, Nabooru reassured quickly. It'll have to end sooner or later.

"Hopefully sooner," Rigo muttered. Another drop came in the riverbed and this time, as his body was thrown downward, his back hit against the jagged edge of riverbed. His garb again protected him from injury, but the jolt shot through his injury and caused a new wave of pain, one more searing than he'd felt yet, spike through what felt like every nerve in his body. His head buzzed and he immediately saw little stars dancing around his vision. He wouldn't be able to take much more of this. Hadn't he earned a break?

He tolerated the shaking and jostling as much as he could and the river carried onward for a period of time he had no way of judging. It seemed unfair to him that he should have to deal with this now, on the heels of everything else that had happened. But unfair was the extent of it. As prepared as he was becoming to face his seemingly inevitable death, the river would not kill him. It did not remain the force of nature it had been. Instead, it eventually flowed straight into a man-made channel.

Rigo's entire body slammed into something hard and unyielding and a fresh wave of pain sorted itself out before he could begin to rationalize what had happened. He was being pressed by the water up against a solid steel grate, inset into a white stone archway. The river had been diverted down this way, into a place that had been deliberately constructed.

"People," Rigo muttered. It must be people. And if there were people here, there was hope that he might get some help. Some rest.

The last of his strength was leaving him, drained by the onset of pain and the cumulative wear of everything that had gone on during this horrible, horrible day. Rigo took that last ounce of strength and grabbed onto the grate, pulling himself to the side of the channel one rung at a time. It was slow progress, but it was better than nothing, and at some point he found himself able to get a boot under him.

One step. Two. He was out of the water. The first light of the sun was glinting on the horizon, against a mountain with an odd gray halo of a cloud around its peak. Had he really been awake and moving for so long? Where was he?

The land around him was lush, a strange grass of emerald green that bent and crumpled as he walked on it. There were flowers and small animals of countless colors and varieties around him, sprinkled about through the field in which he now stood. The sound of the channel flowing behind him was a constant, it was the sound of blood that gave life to this strange new place, this land of water and earth alive and thriving like he'd never seen.

There was a stairwell constructed of white stone that led above the grating Rigo had hit. He forced his feet to continue their movements. He was so close now. Up the short flight of stairs, and onto a paved white pathway. There were buildings before him, towers of elegant construction that reminded him somehow of the Desert Temple in which he'd been imprisoned. All of it over a bridge and behind a wall, and so he made for the gate one grudging step at a time. He thought it was beautiful, but he couldn't prove it in the dim light and the foggy state of mind. Later, he thought. I'll see it all later.

As he made it close to the gate, Rigo saw two guards standing watch beside the heavy wooden doors. They were clad in armor made of steel, painted and embellished with the crest of the triangles and the bird's wings. They were Hylians, then. Then this was, as he had expected, known really, Hyrule.

One of the guards caught sight of Rigo stumbling down the dark bridge toward him and gave a start. He pulled his sword from his belt. "Mars!" he shouted. "Mars, look!"

The other guard shook the boredom from his tired eyes and glanced down the bridge as well. "Sweet Din!" he exclaimed as he too caught sight of Rigo and pulled his weapon.

Rigo tried to call out to them, to tell them he wasn't a threat, that he came peacefully, but wasn't able to shout. Wasn't really even able to see clearly anymore. The sky was lightening, but his vision was darkening.

The guards ran down the roadway to meet him but did not come to his aid. They kept their distance back from him, their swords out in front of them, and an obvious nervousness in their posture.

"What are you doing here!?" the first guard shouted to him.

Rigo stopped walking and just watched them as best he was able, with his mouth open and head tilted to one side. What was he doing? Wasn't it obvious?

"P…please," he stammered. "Please. Help me."

The message across, Rigo's energy was finally expended. His legs gave out, and he collapsed into unconsciousness on the drawbridge, before the bewildered guardsmen.