IV - Black Tears
He was pissed off.
No.
He was angry.
Anger was all that he had left. It was eating away at him ever since he had watched his home burn and his family murdered. His finger unconsciously trailed over the old scar on his cheek and he gritted his teeth.
Soaring flames. A raging sky.
The night air was filled with smoke, screams and the smell of blood and metal.
Silver and copper gleaming in the light of the fire.
Sheik ran. Away from the flames, away from the haunting screams of his mother, and away from the hands that tried to grab him.
The taste of soil on his lips as he fell.
The hands were on him before he could free himself.
A heavy body.
Fear washed over him as he closed his eyes, feeling the cold sting against his face.
Death.
Lifeless bodies all around him. His home destroyed, his family murdered. They were all dead. But he lived. Sheik lived. And as long as he lived, he would seek revenge.
He scrubbed the dirt and smell off of his body, soaked his long silver hair in the cold water, and ran his fingers through to remove any remains of soap. His tutor had always insisted that he'd cut his hair as it could get in his way during combat, but Sheik had grown fond of it. He wrung it out, drops of water leaving curious marks in the yellow sand. As he sat down on a rock to carefully braid it, he let the sun dry his wet body.
It took him almost a month of research to locate Karusa valley and, once he had started his journey from the Tabantha region, two weeks to actually reach it. The Gerudo highlands were an unforgiving and frigid mountain range full of natural traps and dangers, completely isolated from the rest of the world, and he got lost more than once and had to find his way back again and again. Not a soul to be seen on his route apart from shy foxes every now and then, and flocks of birds that would cross the sky during early hours. Sheik mainly lived off food rations that he had packed, and wild berries that grew even in the harsh conditions of the highlands. At nightfall he would look for shelter in small caves or under rock formations, using flint and dead branches to make a fire to keep him warm during the night.
He continued to travel south once he reached the end of the mountain pass, sighing in relief as the temperatures began to rise. The grass had turned from white and frozen to yellow and dry, and Sheik knew that he had reached his goal once he spotted tiny red flags and toad statues in the far distance, visible only to the Sheikah eye.
He grimaced as he felt the multiple bruises on his face. The relief about his discovery of the hideout had only been short-lived. Having travelled all by himself for about a month without any human interaction had left him too careless. Not that he had ever underestimated the Yiga. After all they shared the same ethnicity, and no other race had ever been as stealthy and lethal as a Sheikah. But then again he always wanted to be found.
The Yiga hideout was carved into the mountain base like a gaping mouth. The main hallway housed half a dozen staircases whose endpoints were hidden behind black and red curtains. It was in that exact room that Valen knocked Sheik down, just as the latter had found the one staircase that would lead him into the heart of the hideout.
A shadow grew over him and blocked out the sun.
"Valen is expecting you." The voice belonged to a Yiga named Toran, his face covered by a mask that showed an upside-down version of the great eye. Sheik raised one eyebrow as he studied the Yiga.
"What's with the mask?" he asked.
"None of your business," huffed Toran in response, "get up!"
Sheik groaned as he moved his aching body, slipping his still wet clothes back on. He followed Toran to the hideout and they entered it through a secret back door. It was dim inside, the only light provided by lanterns hanging from the ceiling and the cold stone walls. Toran opened a wooden sliding door and motioned Sheik to enter first. The corridor opened up to a spacious but dark room, decorated with red curtains, red and yellow lanterns, wooden furniture and a modest throne, in which Valen sat. He had exchanged the typical red and black Yiga garb for a pair of wide, soft black trousers and a buttoned up red shirt, his long black hair falling loosely around his shoulders.
"Sit." His hand pointed to a cushion on the floor.
Sheik did as he was told, watching Toran leave the room. He was at last alone with the Yiga leader.
"I am not fond of the idea of accepting you into my clan," he said calmly, "I should have killed you the moment you set foot in my property."
"And yet you haven't."
"How did you find us? How many others know of our hideout's existence?"
"You don't give me credit for finding out myself?"
"You did not answer my question, Sheik. If I were you, I would watch my tongue. You are in no position to defy me."
Sheik huffed. "You have known me for years. You know what I am capable of."
"That's why I don't trust you."
Sheik sighed. "Valen, all I want is justice. Justice for my people. For our people."
Our people. Sheik would never forget the look on Valen's face as he turned his back on Kakariko and on Impa, but he had been too young to understand. Too foolish to comprehend why Valen hated Impa more than anyone else in this world. And Sheik had watched Valen leave, after years of training and sleeping under the same roof. Yes, Valen once belonged to his people. To Sheik's people. To the outcast Sheikah that had lived in barren lands at the border of Hyrule for many long years.
There was a break before Valen eventually stood up. He looked at Sheik, and crossed his arms. "The Yiga have rules. Sorren will introduce you to our ways. But I warn you Sheik, I will keep a close eye on you. If you ever try anything, I will have you killed without a second thought, do you understand?"
Short chapter. I know.
I am dropping a few hints here. Sheik's whole story will be told bit by bit, but I don't want to reveal too much. Not yet.
