Chapter 41
To say that this journey was getting on her nerves would be an almost criminal understatement. The last couple dozen kilometres she had been forced to travel on horseback! Her! Forced to sit on one of these recalcitrant, odorous animals like some sort of vagabond!
True, some of her misfortune might have been, in part, due to her bad habit of losing her temper, but… this was verily unacceptable! And so was this dump, this pigsty of an inn that continued without fail to provide insult after insult to all her sensorium.
Bland, overcooked food, a bare, dark, tiny chamber with an uneven straw-mattress and a sickening smell of sweat and unwashed bodies… and that infernal noise the 'people' around her were making, their nearly unintelligible grunts and burps that they, for some reason, insisted was a proper language! They were so very similar to the creatures they feared and hated and they didn't even realize it in their simplicity. If she weren't forced to be in their midst this evening, it would almost be funny…
"'ey, lady! I'm talkin' to ye!" something hollered from her left. The only reason she had chosen to take a seat at the disgustingly sticky bar was mild curiosity for these near-animals that would soon be at their rightful place under her feet, once her Lord was finally free. As she looked at the barely conscious something that dared addressing her, she thought, not for the first time, that 'soon' couldn't come soon enough.
She eyed the man, bald, bearded and flabby, like she would an insect on the road. He did, however, have the kind of oft broken visage of someone who was no stranger to dealing out lethal amounts of beatings… disinterested, she turned back to her watery drink.
"Now, don' be like that, luv! I just wanna have a little talk, 's all!" he slurred. A tiny droplet of his spit landed a centimetre off her hand… She eyed it critically, debating whether she should give in to her rising temper or avoid further attention.
She should have known, which annoyed her even further. She had grown tired of the prickly looking, dark haired beauty she had been until yesterday and had found something new that had roused her appetite. A well endowed red-head who had travelled with her father, or her older husband, or her keeper, she didn't care which. The girl had tickled her fancy with her dewy-eyed innocence and robust physique, so she had taken them. Naturally, she couldn't allow a doppelgänger of herself to walk around, though…
She enjoyed her new appearance, but it had a great disadvantage… it drew attention. Fire-red hair, a big cleavage and looking barely sixteen? And travelling alone? Few men in a doss house like this would be able to resist… or would want to.
"Come on, girl! No harm in a bit of talkin'! Don' be rude now!" the drunk spluttered, working himself up into anger.
Ah yes, she thought grimly… how often she had heard talk like that from men like this… Old memories threatened to boil to the surface, quickening her heartbeat and turning her stomach cold… but she repressed them. They were memories of a weak, foolish girl, someone she had only contempt for. They were not hers. They would not define her.
Instead she let the drunkard's blunt, churlish attempts fuel her hate… which in turn fuelled her own lust. But she doubted her type of lust was what he had in mind.
She looked up, briefly catching the wan, sorrowful look of the bar-maid, indicating that she knew how this would end, hinting that she knew it from personal, painful experience. She gave the worthless girl a mirthful grin, completely devoid of any compassion or kindness. 'Watch and learn!'
Turning to the sex-hungry dog stinking of cheap beer to show him the nastiest smirk her new face could produce, she felt her blood-flow quicken in her veins.
"Tha's better, girl! Now how's about it you come over'n sit on my lap so we can talk proper?" he warbled, a predatory smile showing his yellow teeth. She nearly giggled… any sane man would have tucked tail and run at the sheer power of her bloodlust in her eyes, but this guy was simply too drunk to notice… which was going to make this even more delicious!
As gentle as a butterflies wing and as accurate as a cut of her knife she touched his consciousness, making him, in the confines of his mind, the strongest man who ever lived, imparted the firm knowledge that none of these cretins around could hold a candle to his splendour. It was laughably easy to find the right tiny levers in this simple mind of his, especially when the alcohol helped her manipulations take form. A quick look of befuddlement crossed his face when the unexpected realization hit him that he was just about the finest stud to walk the face of the earth. Now, you newborn 'hero', let's give you some foes to smite! Diabolical glee and anticipation boiled within her as she turned to the people sitting at their tables. She let a look of pitiful despair twist her features. "Please! Won't anybody help me?!" she whined, making her voice particularly girlish and terrified.
There it was, she thought… that pained look on their worthless faces, of knowing that they should do something… the men felt their withered chivalry stir while the women wallowed in what they laughably called sympathy… some, she sensed, had been covertly watching her being accosted, it was clear as day on their guilty expressions… and neither of these useless, pitiful cowards, slaves to the illusion that there was such a thing as justice, would have lifted a finger if she hadn't spoken up. Even now, they probably wouldn't, the despicable, callous…
"You there! Leave the girl alone, you hear?" an angry shout rang through the room. Mildly surprised, she saw a big lad rising up, hardly older than 19, a few wisps of blonde hair on his chin and apparently more courage than was healthy for him. She could barely contain a mirthful cackle. That would be most enjoyable… a duel between young and strong, and experienced and ruthless.
"You get your fuckin' arse back on that chair 'fore I put you ina grave, boy!" her wannabe rapist snarled, clandestinely fingering something hidden in his jacket. Oooh, this was going to be even more interesting than she had hoped! She had to even the playing-field, though…
"Now listen 'ere you fat fuck!" the young man growled and stomped close, almost dragging his two friends with him who desperately tried, and failed, to hold him back, fearing confrontation. They even remained standing around their table, staring numbly, instead of joining their colleague, the cravens. "Get away from there right now, or…"
He didn't get further.
The older man jumped up as soon as the lad was in range and, with the admirable ruthlessness of an experienced brawler, started boxing and kneeing him in all the places that had the most painful effect. The youth, green and honourable, could barely react, so sudden and brutal was the onslaught. He staggered and fell back. When the aggressor made attempts to stomp on him with the same reckless violence, the crowd was finally roused from their cowardly stupor. It took five men to get her 'strongest guy alive' away from his victim.
Now, to spring the trap.
She darted to her 'hero', all admiring concern and kneeled beside his battered body, his face already starting to swell up. With amazing sleight of hand she conjured one of her blades into his hands. It only took a tiny nudge to his enraged consciousness for him to believe that it was his own, that he had drawn it himself to avenge his honour.
"YOU'RE LUCKY THAT YOU'RE BREATHING, YOU HEAR ME BOY?!" the brawler roared, slowly stopping his struggle against the many arms that held him back.
"Get the fuck away from me, you fuckin' wankers, or you'll get the same roughin' up." he hissed at the crowd, managing to break free from their grasp.
The boy, somewhat rallied from the beating he just took, used this moment to jump up and stick him with the thin little blade. The man cried out in pain, the people gasped in shock… she smiled in rapture.
"YOU FUCKING…" the injured man screamed to her surprise. Apparently the inexperienced lad had completely botched his attack and the only thing he had caused was pain… a mistake that would cause his death. She bit her lip in anticipation of the show that would follow.
A feisty old workman tried to re-grab her bleeding rapist, realizing what would come next. But the brawler ripped out his own weapon, a nasty looking punching dagger and almost casually stabbed his gut, just to get him off.
Well, she thought excitedly… we really do have a killer in our midst!
In the blink of an eye she dispelled the tiny manipulation on the lad's mind, removing the blind rage with it. The look that formed on his young face, the horror at finally realizing what he had just done, the confusion at where he had gotten a knife and the terrible understanding that he was doomed when he saw his opponent turn back towards him… it was a thing of beauty.
With a pained grunt, the shorter man stepped forward, grabbed the stunned youth's collar and began ramming his dagger into his gut, over and over and over until he finally collapsed in a bloody heap, breathing raggedly, still too shocked to even scream.
The aghast silence lasted an eternity, only interrupted by our murderer's panting as he held his bleeding side. Then hell broke loose…
Men and women screamed and shouted inane expletives. Some backed away slowly from the bloodied man with the wild eyes; some ran outside, moronically shouting for guards at an inn surrounded by nothing but wilderness for hours.
The dying lad's little friends were frantically yelling his name and shaking his limp body as if they could simply will it back to health. One of them noticed her thin, wicked knife still clutched in his hands and stared at it in utter bafflement. She could no longer stifle her deeply amused giggling when the idiot grabbed it and stormed at the wheezing killer, wailing a pitiful, boyish battle cry. His colleague's "NO!" came much too late… With speed she wouldn't have thought the wounded man capable, he twisted to the side and rained another flurry of stabs on the second lad, completely without finesse but delightfully brutal and remorseless. When he was done with his second victim he gave a heartfelt curse and made for the exit.
The bar became silent… the only sound to be heard was the third boy's impotent sobbing and her barely contained laughter as she was reclining on the nearest chair. The smell of fresh blood tickled her nose, the carnage on the floor was a marvellous tableau of vivid red… She had denied herself the pleasure of the kill, but watching these cattle disembowel themselves at her behest was delicious in its own right.
She noticed the trail of blood leading to the door… For a moment she wondered whether this loose end deserved to be tied up. He had annoyed her initially, true, but in the end he had provided such merriment… she decided he was going to live until his wound would poison him from within.
Slowly she stood up and meandered over to the second corpse. He was still breathing, barely. It had always fascinated her how long a body clung to life, even when it was hopeless. She bent down to pick up her dagger, just as the only survivor of the trio was losing the content of his stomach. She could kill him too, of course, just for dessert, but then she would rob him of reliving this haunting memory for years to come, always questioning what he could have done differently… She liked that far better.
Still chuckling to herself, she walked upstairs to her room and fell asleep with a satisfied grin. Tomorrow she would finally reach the goal of this gruelling journey… and now she was in the right mood for it.
Zelda
The last few hours were a blur of hectic activity with little to no time to think… a luxury that was now, sadly, over.
When Link had fallen unconscious in her arms, bleeding from multiple vicious looking wounds… for a few helpless moments there had been this unspeakable cold inside her that seemed to have gripped her heart in its icy tendrils… and darkness had seeped into her soul like black, poisonous swamp-water into a pristine pond. Her thoughts had been empty, her emotions had been empty… this unfathomable void had threatened to consume her whole being as she thought that she was seeing him die… as she thought that she had lost him…powerless… useless…
She couldn't say how long she had sat there clutching his body –minutes? Hours?- terrified that she might notice that he had grown cold already… and all the while this fell hollowness drained her spirit, leaving nothing but black desolation.
Thank all three for infinity that the city guards had arrived when they did… it took a while for her mind to return, for their words to make sense, for her to understand that they were the help he needed… and that nothing was lost yet. Their presence, their activity had enabled her to pull herself back from the abyss… It had probably only been a few panicked seconds, now that she thought about it, but… it had seemed like an eternity at the time.
…what if she really had lost him?... Would the darkness that, for this terrible, endless moment had her soul in an iron grip, have pulled her under until all light was snuffed?
No. Enough! She would not think like this, no matter how hard it was! She would not be some useless, frightened wretch who made herself insane with headless, grieving inaction… which was, admittedly, made harder by the fact that she had run out of things to do. For the tenth time she made sure that her sleeping Link wasn't burning with fever, checked that his breathing was still unlaboured and in the end smoothened every crease on his bed, just so she had something, anything, to do.
When her mind had finally started working again, she hadn't wasted time to explain what had occurred, careful to divert attention from the subject of why they had abseiled from their room into the back alley when there was danger afoot. She had mentioned en passant that the man who had just rid their city of these creatures was also a knight-aspirant… looking back, there had been no need. The men and women of the guard, although grudgingly, had been most impressed, as they bloody well should be! Of course, there had been those who made scoffing remarks how one boy slaying eight Lizalfos was simply ridiculous, but… well, they did it in the face of rather compelling and gory evidence and without any other theories on offer. In the end, the straightforward, honest soldiers had made it a matter of their pride that this fascinating boy was kept safe… they had almost formed an impromptu parade as they carried him back to the barracks, their faces grim and their postures wary. While technically he had dented their ego, these good people were now determined that no further harm should befall the brave boy and, to a swelling feeling in her chest, the word 'hero' was uttered more than once.
As she had jogged next to his gurney, hardly able to watch her feet because she always had to make sure he was still looking alright, she had been thankful that, in all the confusion, no-one had questioned her presence. Zelda hadn't, so far, needed to reveal her true identity, but wouldn't hesitate for a second to do so if it meant better treatment for him. To hell with secrecy, if it stood in her way to seeing him healthy again!
She couldn't say whether it was her well trained air of command or the chaos ensuing from a monster attack in the middle of the town, but she had even entered the inner circle of the barracks before someone thought to challenge her being there. Some young officer had had nothing better to do than to attempt barring her way and tell her that "her help will no longer be necessary". The conceited peacock found out very quickly that he had made a grave error in his choice of words. And tone. And general location.
It was a good thing that the commander of the garrison had arrived when he did… he had to practically pull her off the suddenly very small-seeming man, who was as pale and sweaty as if he had just faced a wild lioness. Before she let herself be escorted towards the sick bay, she had thrown the thoroughly deflated buffoon a last, withering glance and had greatly, if secretly, enjoyed the noticeable flinch that had almost made him fall backwards.
The commander, Sir Rahn, had been somewhat amused at the fifteen year old girl ripping a twice as old and twice as heavy soldier to whimpering shreds. She could also read deep concern in his shrewd eyes, even though he tried to hide it from his men and her. He had, of course, immediately understood that she was nobility, based on the fiery diction she had just employed… something she silently scolded herself for. Regardless, the senior knight had very politely suggested that she remain away from the sickbay, as she might not want to see, or hear, what needed to be done. Zelda had equally politely told him that she respected his opinion and that he could sod off with it. 'There was no way in hell', she had explained to him, 'she would leave his side now, when he hadn't left hers in the face of great peril!' She could have said a thousand things more… how impossible it would be not to share the difficult times when she so enjoyed the good ones… how her heart-constricting guilt wouldn't allow her to leave him out of his sight when his injuries were caused because she couldn't bloody protect herself… how they would have to chain her to a wall in order to prevent her from comforting the boy she loved… She had felt her eyes tear up as had she stared into the calm eyes of Sir Rahn, hoping he would understand…
A tiny smile had formed on the man's face, soft but pitying. "Very well, my lady…" he had sighed. "I shall accompany you. Follow me! And… please try not to crush the spirit of any more of my men." Grinning in a tiny bit of shame, but mostly in relief she had walked after him into the infirmary.
Inside she was greeted by the sharp smell of antiseptic, which immediately evoked the dreadful episode on the road back to Hyrule… so many dead, even more injured… but one she had brought back, somehow… She sent a silent prayer to the heavens that he wasn't in such a bad shape that his survival depended on her most unreliable… talent, this magic she had hardly any control over. Another thoroughly unwanted flash of memory hit her… the utter, mind-breaking fear when she had seen Link fall, her own sword lying uselessly metres away from when she had made a pitiful attempt at attacking one lizard from behind and it had almost casually swiped it away with its tail… When all had seemed lost and that shriek of desperation had escaped her… once again this light had broken forth from her, frightening her with its power… The moment after… Link, eyes closed, pain on his features, lying nearly motionless and… the things… clutching at their eyes, whimpering pathetically in pain… the throat-scratching stench of their scorched scales, burned to a crisp in just a brief flash… of her doing…
The memories had twisted her stomach so much she had to stop walking for a second. "Don't be ashamed to turn back, my lady. Absolutely no-one would think any less of you…" the commander had said kindly, but she had shaken her head fiercely and bit the inside of her cheek to pull herself back into the now. This was not up for debate! Even if her stomach were to turn on her, even if she were to feel faint and nauseous, it was nothing compared to what he had to endure. And she would never forgive herself if he woke up, pained and confused, and she wasn't there to tell him that everything would be alright… goddess, please let everything be alright!
Digging her fingernails into her palms to combat the dizziness, she had soldiered on. Through a curtain Zelda and her concerned guide had entered the operating theatre. Link had been there and she had felt herself go pale. He was lying there, on his stomach, still unconscious, thank the Three. They had removed his shirt, probably just cut it open and the rags the soldiers had hastily provided and pressed onto the wounds to staunch the blood-flow were now completely soaked. She couldn't yet see the injuries themselves, but she knew she had to… and she dreaded it to no end… Not because of a fear of gore, but… because of who had them… and why.
"And who are you?" a gruff voice had asked. She had wrenched her gaze away from Link and had seen who could only be the surgeon, a wiry, clean shaven man, looking at her expectantly… clearly someone who tolerated no nonsense when it was about his work, which Zelda wholeheartedly supported.
"I'm his girlfriend." She had answered, annoyed at how quavery she sounded… but then again strangely pleased at how easily, how readily these words passed her lips. "I…"
"You want to stay? Don't touch anything and stand far enough away that we can always walk around the table unhindered. Were you there when he was attacked?" he had asked curtly while washing and scrubbing his hands thoroughly.
"I was." She had replied, just glad that she didn't have to have another argument.
"The lad fought against eight of them, Rask… and won!" the commander had supplied, looking at her prone, helpless boy with worried eyes. "Do fix him up, will you? I wish to thank him in person… and ask him what the bloody hell he was thinking."
The doctor had looked up briefly at the mention of the number Link had faced and nodded grimly. "Then he did the world a great bloody service, that young man. And the wounds aren't what concerns me… it's what's in them. You!" he growled and lifted his chin at Zelda because his hands were busy preparing his instruments, one looking more fearsome than the next. "The Lizalfos that scratched him, were its claws bare or of steel?"
She had been momentarily taken aback and apparently her face showed.
"It is important, because…" the man continued more mildly, apparently realizing that he had startled her with his tone. "these abominations carry many diseases under their claws. If the thing that did this was unarmed, I will have to alter the therapy, cut away the tainted flesh, because else the wound will get infected. If you were to know that they wore their steel enhancements, I may just disinfect and suture it."
The explanation had made sense, but her mind had immediately tormented her with vivid imaginations of the vile filth these beasts had crawling under their nails, which might now be in his body… and the images of having to cut him even deeper… and him waking up during it from the pain… her stomach roiled and she wanted so much to sit down… all sound suddenly became dull and far away…
"Lairy, a chair for her! She's about to collapse! Quickly now!" the surgeon had commanded the nurse, who was very quick to grab a stool for her to sit on and gently pressed Zelda down on it, cooing calm words. After a moment, the world stopped spinning and regained its colour… and good goddess, she felt embarrassed!
"I apologize." the physician muttered while looking at her concernedly. Judging by the nasty looks his two nurses shot him, they thought he hadn't nearly explained himself enough. "I shouldn't have asked you that… it was cruel of me to burden you with this… But when I see shit like this…" he pointed at Link, "…happening to someone so young, my blood comes to a boil. Think no more of it, my lady, I will…"
"No! I am fine…" She had insisted, despite her obviously being not. She swallowed, bracing herself. "Allow me a few moments to collect my thoughts…" The man looked like he was about to protest, but then thought better of it and nodded.
Clenching her jaw, she had attempted to return to this terrifying moment in an already dread-filled scene… The snarling and grotesque wriggling of the monsters, Link's incredibly fast movements… the stinging pain in her mind when he had been hit by the tail, and then… As if she was brutally yanked backwards by her head the vision unfolded, the memory so fresh and so rife with crystal clear fear that it was still burning white hot in her mind. Her already exhausted body was forced to relive the immense tension, her heart quickening until it was hammering in her throat, her skin forming cold sweat on her back… The smell of blood got even more intense, enhanced by the foul gore of the already slain beasts lying in the street. Every fibre in her screamed for her to stop, to not force this nightmare upon herself a second time, but there was no crack in her determination, no matter how miserable she felt. If there was the slightest chance of saving him from further harm, how could she possibly stop at the first sign of discomfort?
She gritted her teeth and dug her fingernails painfully into her thighs… she saw him make that fateful step forward that had put him in harms way. The heart-stopping scare she got when vicious claws appeared from above, aimed directly at him with unavoidable speed, was as intense as the first time, despite her knowing how it ended… or maybe, because she did… Her mind slowed the scene for her, enabling her to see more clearly, but also take in all the more gruesome details… the ever so slightly off way Link moved, betraying how pain made him favour his right side… the utterly horrible certainty she sensed in his mind that he was going to die… but also the fascinating, infinitely honourable resolve to fight to the last… for her… She had to fight back her tears…
There it was! The moment she had to see! He had already slain the foe from above and the creature, quick as the lash of a whip, snaked around his body to climb his back… Please, goddess, let it be one that…
Yes! Yes, for a few instants she could see it completely clearly! Metal claws that went over its real ones! There was no need for hurting him any more!
So great was her joy, her relief, her urgency to tell the physician of her discovery that she managed to instantly dispel her vision, something that she rarely managed… usually she was forced to see it all, experience the torment until it decided to stop, but this time, thank the goddess, it had mercy… she hadn't been forced to relive the beast sinking its murderous claws into his flesh, hear his scream, feel his pain reverberating in her mind.
"The claws were covered…" she finally said when she was sure that reality had her back. The surgeon looked at her, momentarily nonplussed. He had frozen as he was about to remove the bloodied bandages from Link's back. A mix of thoughtfulness and slight doubt played on his features for a good ten seconds. "You were there… I was not. I will not doubt you, as I see the sincerity in your eyes… But I have to repeat: We have to be absolutely sure… or this young man will die of his infected wounds." He spoke calmly, his face betraying his deep regret at having to ask this responsibility of her.
Zelda knew that she could back out… she could say that she couldn't be that certain and they would all understand. The doctor would cut away the margins of Link's wounds and his survival would be assured. Her breath nearly caught in her suddenly extremely dry throat, for doubt was, as ever, her constant, loathsome companion.
…but… Not only did she wish to spare him this undoubtedly monstrous pain so much her heart ached, but she even had the means to do it! Only her, with this talent that had caused her so many sleepless nights with the terrors it showed her without ever being summoned, could ever be this sure. Thanks to her vision, she had seen… but how far could she trust these phantasms that, despite living with them her whole life, defied any explanation? Was she willing to risk his life, just because she was a freak?
…Then again… Why couldn't this power, just for once, be used to help someone already so inseparably woven into her soul?
"I am positive." she whispered as her stomach cramped painfully in all her nervousness. Her visions had never been false, but… she had always been certain they were a curse. They had only ever been a well of misery for her… be it the lack of understanding from her father, the alienation of other children when she had one of her 'episodes'… or just seeing scenes of brutality and death whenever they were mentioned by others. She had never looked at these images closely, they had always frightened her too much. But lately… lately new powers had awoken… useful ones… she had saved her entourage by banishing the darkness, hadn't she? She had healed one of her soldiers, hadn't she? Maybe these talents she inexplicably had were not born of some evil taint or hateful wish, as she had always feared… Impa had called her 'the Light'… Maybe it was time she learned how to use that mysterious light which appeared to slumber within her…
The physician gazed at her, looking deeply into her eyes, obviously fighting his doubts, which, Zelda had to admit, were completely justified. She held his gaze, hoping against all common sense that he would believe her enough to risk the more conservative treatment… which, if she were wrong, meant that his patient's life was forfeit… and it would be on his hands.
She couldn't say what it was… some hidden sincerity in her eyes that she couldn't feel herself for it was overshadowed by doubt, or maybe just his deep wish to believe her so he wouldn't have to cause more pain… but the man's concentrated frown mellowed to a point where he looked almost… awed…
He nodded, both to her relief and her gut-wrenching fear… Link's death would be on her too…
"I find myself believing you… Let us hope that we're both right, my lady…" he muttered softly, still with that oddly fascinated look in his eyes.
Then, as if some spell had suddenly ended, the surgeon switched back to full concentration on his patient. The whole conversation had only taken a minute and a half, maybe two… but it had felt endless, seeing his naked, unmoving body lie face down, hurt and helpless, while she could do nothing… "Lairy, we begin. Be ready with pledget and thread. Do we have poppy-milk ready?" he asked curtly.
"Yes, doctor. Has he gotten anything yet?" the woman with the kind eyes asked as she finished affixing some odd looking threads to hooked needles.
"Sadly no… he came in unconscious. Be ready for him to wake up!" he announced grimly. Zelda's stomach turned and she had to swallow sour spit back down… but come what may, she would not leave! Never!
With extreme care, doctor Rask removed one of the blood-soaked rags from his back. On one point it was stuck with coagulated blood, so he had to pull it away and re-staunch the blood flow. Link twitched when the wound was re-opened and so did Zelda… she was just about to rush towards him, to calm him, to comfort him, to do anything… but he didn't wake up…
Fear and uncertainty grew ever stronger the more deep red swabs the doctor pulled away and discarded. Hadn't he lost too much blood? What if the bleeding couldn't be stopped? Why wasn't he waking up when cotton swabs were surprisingly forcefully pressed into his wounds? Could he no longer wake up? Was he too far gone already?
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, each more devastating than the last. Desperate for anything to do, she constantly tried to see that he was still breathing, despite knowing that two far more experienced pairs of eyes were doing just that from a better perspective. She couldn't see his wounds now, the nurse's back was in the way… On one hand she wanted to know, wanted to perceive what he, her saviour and so, so much more, had to endure for her. But then again… she had to admit that she was glad her vision was blocked.
"Alcohol!" the surgeon muttered, eyes focused on his patient. He was handed a large pledget that had up until now soaked in a tray of liquid.
Zelda had dreaded this moment… she would never forget the sting of medicinal alcohol from the time Saria had shoved her into that rosebush, something she still claims was an accident… She didn't even dare image how much fire it would inflict on wounds like his… she had seen the Lizalfos' claws and shivered thinking of the damage they could do. Zelda involuntarily tensed and dug her fingernails so deeply into her thigh that she thought she might have scratched herself bloody… not that she cared right now…
The alcohol drenched cloth touched open flesh. A vision of pain flashed through Zelda's mind, so intense that she gasped and twisted her back away from what felt like a white hot iron that she knew couldn't be there. An image before her eyes of his agonized awakening, his panic and terror, made her jump up and tear towards him, ignoring all sensible warnings.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the surgeon's bafflement at her sudden reaction, but before he could so much as growl at her, Link's body heaved with a hoarse, pitiful groan that seemed to shake her to the core and made her shiver. Stumbling past the startled nurse who tried to keep her patient lying down, Zelda knelt down by his head.
"Keep him still! He's going to open his wounds again!" the doctor panted, nearly lying on him to keep him from jumping up.
On the verge of panic herself, she cupped both his cheeks, hoping her gentle touch might soothe him… a mistake!
Instantly his left hand grabbed her wrist and squeezed with terrible strength. His face swivelled towards hers, his eyes nearly mad with uncomprehending fear, his mouth a beastlike snarl of pain and primal rage, searching desperately for whatever causing him so much anguish… it nearly broke her heart. Ignoring the grinding of her bones in his grip to the best of her abilities, she stroked his cheeks and focused on keeping a calm voice. "Link… it's me. Your dumpling! I know it hurts, but you're safe! You don't have to fight! Please!" she whispered urgently. His eyes were trembling, his pupils maximally wide, showing the utter panic, the utter horror he must experience. Her stomach turned to a painful knot when she imagined it and it was all she could do not to cry out in overwhelming compassion and guilt at seeing him in such a state of distress. If anything his grip on her wrist got fiercer and tears shot into her eyes. She had to help him, she had to! She couldn't let him be so lost in terror, the thought alone caused her to sob in despair. She let her free hand travel to his hair, through which she brushed lovingly. "Link… my sweet knight… it's just me… your Zelda… you have already won! We're just treating your wounds… please let us!" she pleaded, most of her calm gone from her voice, replaced by soft crying.
At the sound of her own name his eyes seemed to finally find a bit of focus. His beautiful, deep blue orbs found hers and he looked at her with such desperation, as if she were the only salvation of a man drowning in a tempestuous sea of dread. Despite the screaming ache in her arm, she smiled at him and continued to caress him.
She looked in vain for understanding in his expression… too great were confusion and fear from being woken by liquid fire in his skin after collapsing from a near deadly battle. But slowly his features mellowed, his panic-widened eyes became smaller and calmer… he didn't understand… he couldn't understand, she knew… it was only her face, her voice and the bottomless, absolute trust that he placed in her… a trust that transcended even mindless panic, that went deeper than anything else. Hot, urgent feelings of love… Stifling, crippling guilt… So many feelings at once threatened to overwhelm her, but she kept them at bay so she could be his anchor. His grip had softened, was now little more than a search for stability. His gaze wavered, the dead tiredness he must have barely broken through had re-established his grip and pulled him back. Zelda hugged his head close to her and kissed his forehead. "Sleep, Link… you are safe… you are safe…" she repeated softly until she felt his muscles relax, felt his fear subside completely and sensed his mind back under the spell of a deep sleep.
A wave of emotion crashed over her when he was calm again through belief in her alone. She buried her face in his sweaty hair, sobbing uncontrollably, triggered by relief, the relentless, nagging feeling that she was to blame for all this and the dull pain in her hand. The unfair, disgusting but overpowering sense of guilt was only enhanced by the realization of just how deep, how strong his trust was…
It only lasted a few seconds, thank Nayru, before she found her composure again. She raised her head, sniffled softly, ashamed of this undignified outburst. She timidly looked at the surgeon, who was already back at work, but shot her a brief, appreciative glance. "Well done. Very well, actually… I think you brought calm back to his soul… even if he should wake again, I doubt he would start like this again…" he grumbled, a hint of approval in his voice. "You must be tired, my dear. Would you like to lie down? I promise you, we'll be fine now." he offered, losing his grumpiness for a few seconds, making him sound genuinely kind.
Goddess, she was so tired, she would hardly care if she had to sleep on the hard, tile floor right where she stood… but naturally, there could only be one answer.
"No… but thank you for the offer. I want to… I have to stay…" she said strongly, fighting sleep creeping into her head.
He nodded and returned to his work, leaving her to stand around, feeling terribly superfluous again. Her left hand was still on Link's head, combing through his hair absentmindedly… she hoped he could feel it even in his martyred slumber, could sense that she was still there, watching over him. Occasionally his face twitched and something within her with it… for a moment, she had experienced his pain as if it were her own, felt the skin on her back burning as if charred with the flame of a torch… She had always been good at sensing what others were thinking or even feeling, but with him it had taken a whole new dimension. It worried her a bit… but it also spoke of the connection between them, this wonderful union of two separate minds which, to her, was the sweetest experience imaginable.
If it meant a relief for him, she would gladly share his pain… maybe she could even make it go away? That magical light that had once again broken out of her when all hope had seemed lost, when he… had seemed lost… A freezing shiver coursed through her from her feet all the way to the roots of her hair… every time she had tried to think about what had happened, she just saw that world-shattering image of Link, lying motionless on his back, bleeding, with two evils only an instant away from sinking their claws in his throat… The fear, the panic and the utter desperation, that still made her heart race so much it hurt… the relentless visions of this one moment crippled her ability to think about what she had done… the only thing she knew, was that, somehow, she possessed the power of healing, but also of harming. While the wish to try and heal his wounds burned in her fingers, the memory of the two Lizalfos screaming and twitching in agony at their burned skin, and the resulting possibility of her dearest wish to help him backfire catastrophically, made her mouth dry and constricted her throat. When she thought about what might have happened when she had attempted to cure the soldier, Josy, two months ago she felt her hairs stand on end. This was not a risk she could afford to take lightly… not with so monumentally much at stake…
Zelda looked away from his face which even now hadn't lost its ability to mesmerize her. However, she made the mistake of looking directly at his back… and the surgeon's instruments in it. Her stomach made an unmistakable growl of protest and she had to swallow heavily to keep everything down. All those nerves in her brain designed to keep her sane demanded that she look away, but she didn't permit herself. Goddess, these slashes looked so vicious and dreadfully, nauseatingly deep! And the entire skin around was of a furious red… Again that merciless feeling of guilt descended upon her with a force that nearly made her knees buckle. Part of her knew that it was simply wrong, a useless, nasty game her mind was playing on her that distorted everything… she was certain that Link would be appalled if he knew she even considered the possibility of him being resentful towards her because he was injured… but, sadly, that just made it worse.
…at least she hoped he wouldn't be angry or disappointed… he wouldn't show it, but… what if he was? What would she do? The thought chilled her to the bone…
Zelda shut her eyes and shook her head, getting increasingly mad at her own brain. Were there no depths her loathsome doubts wouldn't stoop to torture her? Could she not bloody focus on his health, for once, without turning the situation around so it revolved around her? After all, he had demonstrably been able to concentrate his entire energy for her benefit… could she not bloody do that too? Could it be that she was so selfish, so constantly preoccupied with her own needs that…
Again, she shook her head, scrunching up her face… that line of thinking was even worse… somehow she needed to break free of these cyclical thoughts, this vicious downwards spiral into madness and grief!
The answer was so obvious…
"Please let me do something… Anything!" she whined, startled at how pathetic and weepy she sounded. Pulling herself together with all the princess-like grace she could muster, she added: "I cannot just stand around! Allow me to help in some way, please!"
When both he and the nurse looked back up into her eyes, she could see he wanted to say something like "You've done enough, child.", but the look in her face let them pause. All her life she had sat by, whether it was a political discussion, a banquet, a peace-treaty… always just the jewel to be shown off, always there, never involved. In this though, her determination to break out of this future of passivity knew no bounds.
"Well, I…" the surgeon began, his doubts written clearly on his face. 'What could she be useful for?' It stung Zelda more than she cared to admit… mostly because she thought he was right. But in this, she wouldn't do what she had done so many times before… she wouldn't let her feelings of inadequacy stop her, or even bloody hinder her for even a second. She would not be reduced to inaction, would not sit idly by as others did all the work. She would help in some way, even if she had to mop the floor to do it!
"Can you make a salve, dear?" the nurse assisting the doctor suddenly asked. He looked at her, first a tad surprised, then with a loving appreciativeness that spoke of a much deeper relationship than just a professional one.
"I… in theory… I read about it…" Zelda replied timidly, feeling like a dolt. 'In theory' would be quite accurate to describe her whole existence, she felt… She had indeed read up on a lot of topics before they had left the capital, whatever had seemed useful at the time. A lot of medicinal methods had been memorized, but, as always, actually transforming theory into practice was where the real challenge lay. You couldn't afford to get it wrong…
"Oh, well…" the woman said, interest showing on her features. "This will be easy then! I'll talk you through the steps. The preparation table is right behind you. First, light the little cooker on it."
Zelda's heart jumped nervously at the sudden responsibility, but her determination did not waver. Reluctantly she moved away from Link, removing her protective hand from his head, to walk the two steps to the little table. Immediately she recognized a few of the ingredients she would need, though others were a mystery. Beeswax, some plant oil of unknown origin, a rack of tiny, corked flasks with beautifully coloured essences inside… Taking one of the wooden spatulas that lay ready, she carried a little flame from the tiny stove the nurse had used to disinfect some of the instruments and lit her cooker. Her hands trembled already, but more and more in the pleasant expectation of being able to do something useful… though she still was embarrassingly nervous.
Under the occasionally watchful eyes of either the surgeon or his assistant, she began, her heart thumping in her throat… just in time too! When she glanced over, the physician had just grabbed one of the needles for sewing up skin, and she felt nauseous thinking about that thing sinking into his flesh again and again… Arduously, she turned away her gaze and concentrated on the first step, melting the beeswax. "Gently, you don't need all that much heat! We don't want it to boil."
"I add this oil now, correct? What is it?" Zelda asked, finally losing herself in concentrated working, blinding out all pesky worries… though her constant glances to make sure Link was still alright did mess with her focus.
"Yes, about a third of that glass should do." the nurse answered, then the doctor mumbled without looking up "It's palm fruit oil. Not the easiest ingredient to get your hands on, but excellent for healing salves. Similar composition to blood, interestingly…"
"Palm fruit…" Zelda furrowed her brow. "I don't think I have ever heard about it being used like this…"
"The Gerudo are very keen on keeping everything remotely concerning their militia secret. The garrison buys the fruits, which we get thanks to our importance as trading post, and I make the oil myself." he explained.
Zelda wanted to ask a thousand more questions… it what way it was similar to blood, how its healing properties worked, how the oil was fabricated… but for now she contented herself with stirring the little pot of thick, greenish yellow paste.
"Now, reduce the heat and add a few drops of Hyrule Herb, Hearty radish and Ironshroom-essence. And never stop stirring!" The kind, older woman instructed.
"Errm…" the still nervous girl errm-ed, looking slightly lost at the unlabelled flasks.
"The very slightly pinkish one and the opaque grey one. Keep the Hyrule Herb!" he grumbled, shaking his head slightly with a disapproving expression. "Soldiers are always going on about its healing qualities, the superstitious lot! Mostly because their grannies told them some nonsense old wive's tales! Its abilities are completely overshadowed by the palm fruit!"
"Oh, hush, you!" the nurse chided with the patiently annoyed voice of someone who has heard the same lecture a hundred times already. "What the good doctor fails to mention is that Hyrule Herb has slight anaesthetic powers. Take the emerald green one too, dear!" Under the strict glare of his assistant, the 'good doctor' kept his peace with a plaintive, yet amused face.
Zelda nearly giggled, so desperate was she for even the tiniest trace of levity. And the fact that they both were rather relaxed told her that her sweet knight wasn't in immediate danger any more.
"Ironshroom keeps the rot away…" she recalled aloud, concentrating deeply on keeping her trembling hands steady while she added three drops of the grey and pink flasks. Of the Hyrule Herb she sneakily added four, hoping to strengthen the pain-relieving effect. "But radish?" she wondered. Such a common plant, present in many dishes, had such an impact on a healing ointment?
"Hearty radish, if done correctly, has very potent influences on the formation of granulation tissue and angiogenesis in the wound." the physician muttered as he was sewing. Then he paused, cleared his throat and continued. "Which means…"
"I understood." Zelda interrupted distractedly. "Wound repair is favoured, increasing the chance of primary closure."
The man's mouth hung open for a moment while his assistant seemed to wrestle with a giggling fit. "That's correct…" he finally mumbled, returning to his work.
All Zelda had left to do was check whether the cooled salve could be easily spread, or whether she needed to add a bit more oil to thin the wax. When she was reasonably pleased with her product, she flamed a thick glass jar to disinfect it and poured the paste in. It had a rather pleasant, tangy, natural smell… she hoped to all Three that the healthy scent didn't promise too much but actually worked…
Gingerly, she carried the still hot jar to the nurse's side table. One quick, stomach tugging glance revealed that the surgeon was just finishing the last stitches… It was the most stupid thought she could possibly have, she had to admit to herself, but she hated how the sutures marred Link's beautiful back…
"Mhm, that looks very promising, dear!" the woman approved with a genuine tone of voice.
They proceeded to treat the stitched wounds with a light cloth covered in Zelda's salve, then to swathe his whole torso with bandages. The queasy feeling girl helped where she could, trying to overcome her fear of touching his body, which stemmed from the irrational terror of causing additional harm.
"Don't be afraid, get a firm grasp, else you're no help!" the doctor ordered strictly. "A young man like him his very robust. Knowing the healing abilities of youth, he'll probably be up and about tomorrow evening, wondering what all the fuss is about… You'll see!" he added with a reassuring smile and a kind wink of both eyes.
"Soo… the wounds aren't that serious?" she timidly asked, trying not to once again conjure up the image of the bleeding, 15 centimetre long gashes.
"Once we staunched the blood-flow, no. They would have been, had they been infected by the Lizalfos' actual claw. We'd have had to leave them open until the infection was under control. Never, ever close a wound rent by a wild animal! And never cover up any injury in an air-tight way. The rot will multiply a hundredfold, if you make that mistake!"
Zelda saw the colour drain from the world and felt like she would keel over, but a sudden anger at her own weakness and the pain from biting into her own cheek counteracted it. Slowly doctor Rask's message sunk into her tired brain: The wounds weren't that bad and would heal, her Link would be fine. A gentle, sluggish wave of relief warmed her from within, dispelled the deathly cold of doubt and fear that had held her insides in an iron grip. Even this little bit of disappearing stress was enough to instantly make her eyelids twice as heavy and her mind go dull with fatigue.
"Don't worry, child, the worst is over. You can lie down and sleep, knowing he will be alright." the nurse cooed, apparently realizing that she could barely keep upright now.
Languidly, Zelda shook her head. "I want to be with him. I don't care where. I want to be there when he wakes." she mumbled, barely able to enunciate properly.
She couldn't remember what exactly happened after that… in the end, Link lay on a soft bed on his stomach, his face turned towards her, which she occasionally, gently caressed with her hands or her lips as she knelt beside him. Now that idle waiting once again had her in its grasp, the feelings of guilt began to fester within her anew… though to a lesser extent now, she still felt that, at its core, she was the reason that he had to endure all this. And there was no ending in sight! How often would he lie in her arms, bruised and bloodied and hurting, just so she could be unharmed? Tens more times? Hundreds? She knew she couldn't just fall apart every time, couldn't wallow in despair and guilt whenever he was injured. She knew if she couldn't help him during a battle, she at the very least had to be able to aid him afterwards. Whether it be by measures she could learn from people like Rask or Lairy… or more supernatural ones… For the hundredth time she cursed her past, how she had allowed herself to be reduced to this pointless, functionless gem on her father's hand, which now resulted in her having next to no practical skills. She needed to learn everything from scratch… and fast! The monumentality of this task and its importance forced her to the edges of panic…
A knock on the door interrupted her introspection, for which she was more than grateful.
It was the commander, Sir Rahn. "Still not sleeping, my lady?" he asked softly.
What could she say? A weak shaking of her head was his answer.
"Everything alright with your charge?" he questioned further with a kind little smile.
Zelda looked back at Link's now thankfully peaceful face. Even the deep feelings of affection, trust and love that whirled through her every time she gazed upon his handsome features were soured by her feelings of inadequacy.
"He's not waking up…" she mumbled pathetically. She knew it to be a stupid thing to say, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them… She wanted so much to see his eyes look into hers, to feel his touch on her cheek, to hear his voice tell her that everything would be alright… The burning need to see him waking from his exhausted, wounded slumber nearly brought her to despair.
"I know how you feel… but allow him to sleep for as long as he needs. A good, curing slumber can heal more than all the potions in the world…" the knight spoke softly.
Of course she wouldn't interrupt Link's hopefully dreamless suspension in unconsciousness… but it was hard… so very hard…
A few seconds passed without anyone saying anything. Then she heard the commander turn to leave.
"He is a very lucky man, your knight…" his voice sounded one more time.
Zelda gazed around to see his reassuring smile. She knew he meant it as a kindness, a compliment… The images of Link kneeling in a pool of blood, vomiting from exertion in the corridor leading away from the arena, of him being rammed by the hellish boar in the woods, of him being slashed by scaled assassins and of his anguished, terrified face when he had briefly woken up in the operations theatre… all flashed before her eyes, again and again, ever increasing in speed.
She turned her head back towards her sleeping boy, so the commander couldn't see her tears.
"I'm not so sure…" she replied, a tremble in her voice.
Very introspective chapter, this one… and pretty dark. But I do want to show that this is not just a whimsical fairy tale. Moods like this are not the focus of my story though, so don't worry… I think this is an important depiction of Zelda's mind though, showing how stressful being the 'protected' can be... and to see how deeply she cares.
I apologize for the long wait, but the past two weeks I had a 25 hour shift almost every third day, which kinda murdered my motivation. This will continue until Thursday, then it'll get better… and, hopefully, so will my creative energy.