Chapter 3
Rat thought death would be silent, like falling asleep. But his ears rang like iron bells, and as his eyes fluttered open, a glowing pink fairy hovered above his face. Her figure appeared in the light: a tiny woman blew him a kiss. His nose twitched under a last sprinkle of glittering dust, then the fairy waved goodbye, zipped through the rubble, and vanished.
He tried to draw a breath, but weight pinned his ribs to his spine. His body was still vibrating from the concussion blast. It should be in pain, but he felt nothing aside from the growing burn in his lungs. His body screamed for air. His fingers clawed at the rubble, but a stone pinned his arm, and he couldn't do more than cock his wrist.
A sob caught in his throat. I don't want to die.
Green light flashed above him, lighting up the inside of his tomb. Threaded with blue strings of magic, the light twisted around a thick wooden beam, gripped the beam like a claw, and raised it up.
The weight vanished from Rat's chest. Air rushed into his chest, thick with dust and smoke, and the smell of fresh blood. The glowing beam shifted and pulled through the rubble. As it moved, small chunks of wood and tree flesh fell onto his shoulders and face, then the beam was gone.
Rat heard a distant clunk, like something heavy hitting the ground. Rubble shifted again, and the weight began vanishing one scoop at a time from his legs, hips, and arms. White light swung through a smoldering fragment of a Yiga banner draped across his face. Then two hands lifted the banner, and Rat stared up into the strangest mask he'd ever seen.
I thought I was the rat.
The brown mask drew to a point like a beak, cut with two slits for eyes. Glowing orbs rocked as Link tilted his head, surveying the boy, still half-buried in the rubble of the Yiga hideout.
Rat shifted his shoulder. He tried prying his arm free. The swordsman raised another beam from Rat's legs, and Rat drew up his knee. He braced his heel against the ground to roll onto his side. "Get away from me," he whispered. His dry throat scratched and his lungs seized with a cough.
The pain awoke.
White. Blinding. Consuming his chest, his leg. He couldn't get enough air to scream. Each gasp sent spasms through his broken ribs. He grasped his chest, and in the light of the swordsman's mask, he didn't recognize his own arm. His skin was raw and red, as though skinned. Stars misted over his vision.
The swordsman touched a pouch strapped to his waist, and a glowing vial appeared in his hand. Pink light shone through the delicate glass. He pulled the cork with a bright pop and held the vial to Rat's lips, but Rat clenched his jaw.
"Drink it." The swordsman's low voice echoed against his mask.
Rat glared back.
"Take it," the man said, "or you will die."
The boy lay still, breathing fast and shallow through his nose. He hurt so bad. A sob broke open inside him; he opened his lips. The swordsman tilted the vial. Sweet liquid flowed over Rat's tongue. The magic tingled in his teeth. It fizzed through his body like soda water and gathered around his breaks and his burns. The pain numbed to an ache.
As it faded, exhaustion took its place. His eyelids closed. Darkness drifted into him once more and he felt more rubble being scooped from beneath his back. He slipped away.
His back was vibrating. The ground tilted up and down. Zonai wheels hummed on either side of his head. He cracked his heavy eyelids open. He was lying on a slab of rock, glued to it by something like green plasma underneath his back. Four giant wheels spun the vehicle over the ground, and the swordsman stood at the controls. Two headlights shone out into the darkness, illuminating the uneven ground, shining on trees Rat had never seen before. The cold air smelled different, new.
Rat closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, the vehicle was gone. A gassy, blowing sound hovered over him. He lifted one eyelid—saw the balloon, the stream of fire, the red glow of gloom coating the walls of the chasm—and squeezed his eyes shut. Heat pulsed close to his face. His arms stung in the heat and a whimper escaped him.
Another vial touched his lips. Rat drank.
Sand whispered. It had been so long since he'd heard that sound. He lay quietly, drinking in the smooth glide of sand underneath a sled, the cool wind brushing his cheeks. A blanket secured his arms to his sides like a cocoon; he didn't want to leave yet.
A seal honked. He twitched. The fresh air was working into him, nudging him, pointing to him to look up.
So he did. Past the flutter of the swordsman's cape, to the sky.
Stars spread across the indigo heavens. Millions, cities of stars. They lit up the desert and the radiance of the starlight ached in his eyes. He stared, unwilling to blink, to miss a second of the stars. They felt so close, like they were smiling, saying, 'we've been here all this time.' He didn't want to leave the stars, but the pain was coming back, and adding his eyes to the mix was too much.
Before he shut down again, he squinted at the swordsman. Link's mask was gone, but a dark hood covered his head. He balanced on the front of the sled, holding two taut reins as a seal plunged and leaped through the sand.
Where is he taking me?
Wherever it was, it couldn't be worse than where he'd already been. Rat closed his eyes and let the sand carry him where it would.
"I have to move you."
Rat stirred. He turned his face away.
"It's going to hurt."
Before he could brace himself, an arm slid under his shoulders and lifted his back. Rat screamed. A shout burst from his lungs, high in pitch, a child's scream. Another arm scooped up his knees, and Rat cried out again as the swordsman stood.
Link walked quick and smooth. Light was budding outside Rat's eyelids, a light he had once woken early to embrace. But now the dawn was an enemy; the sun promised to be merciless. A shadow fell over his face and a familiar coolness wrapped around him, enclosing him in the earthy smell of rock. The swordsman's boots echoed against the walls of a cave. He carried Rat down the tunnel, into an alcove away from the dawn, then laid Rat down on a patch of moss.
Rat held his breath. Steps retreated down the tunnel, and he was alone.
He cracked open one eye, then the other.
The cave was small and bulbous, a burrow in the rock. Patches of moss clung to the ceiling. Water dripped into a small pool where glowing fish swam in lazy circles. Luminous purple mushrooms dotted the floor among budding brightblooms. So many glowing things. Everything on the surface was made of light. He groaned and lifted his arm, hoping to cover his face with the crook of his elbow, but the blanket trapped him. He struggled briefly against the blanket, but the effort shortened his breath, and breathing stretched his ribs.
His heartbeat fluttered in his neck.
I tried to kill him.
Green light illuminated the walls further down the tunnel.
It didn't work.
Rat lay still as a floating sled appeared around the tunnel's curve. Suspended by green light, the sled hovered in mid-air, and the swordsman followed it, right arm raised, hand glowing with the same magic. He carried the sled toward Rat, and Rat cringed, waiting for the heavy sled to drop, to crush him. But the swordsman twisted his fingers, and the sled rotated in the air until it stood vertically on its long side. The swordsman set it down, and the magic vanished. The sled remained standing upright, like a wall between Rat and the pool of water, and the swordsman ducked behind the wall.
There was a clunk. A pop, then a muted burst of gas and the blowing sound of a lit flame. Rat squinted, bracing his eyes for more pain, but the sled-wall blocked the firelight. Rat wanted to crawl around the wall, to see what the swordsman was doing, but his left leg felt stiff. He bent his right knee and crawled his toe up his calf, and found two sticks bound to his leg. A splint. Truth spread through him, cold as frost. Broken ribs. A broken leg. Burns.
Drink it, or you will die.
The sound of blowing fire ceased, and the swordsman stepped around the wall, carrying a small wooden bowl. He wore a dark blue traveler's tunic over a coat of chain mail and brown boots. He kneeled at Rat's side. Steam rose from the bowl, carrying a creamy smell, like milk.
His blue eyes almost seemed to glow in the shadows under his hood. He was in his early twenties, older than the first time Rat had seen him, but his golden hair was still boyishly messy. A scar ran from his left ear and under his jawline: someone had tried to cut his throat. His stone expression locked his thoughts, like he still wore his mask.
Rat waited.
"I don't remember the apple," Link said.
Rat shifted under the blanket.
The swordsman set the bowl down. He untucked the edge of the blanket from beneath Rat's shoulder and peeled the cloth down to examine his arms. Rat shivered. Shreds of his shirt remained, stuck to half-healed burns across his arms, neck, and chest.
Link frowned. "The tonics should have cured you." His voice was quiet, but firm. Like he weighed each word before it was spoken. "How long were you in the Depths?"
"I don't know," Rat whispered. "Since Kohga fell." A cough seized his throat. He clenched his jaw, holding it in.
"Four years?"
Rat nodded, a small, tight movement.
"How old are you?"
He tried to shrug, but his burns stretched. He glared at Link.
The swordsman sat back on his heels. His jaw twitched, but his anger passed over Rat and his eyes burned like lasers into the desert beyond the cave. He picked up the bowl. "I infused this milk with sundelions. It should purge the gloom from your body. The gloom is preventing you from fully healing." He sighed like the speech had winded him and extended the bowl.
Rat looked from the bowl to Link. "Why?"
The swordsman blinked.
"Why are you helping me?" Rat's jaw twitched. Did he have to spell everything out?
"Because you need it."
Rat drew in a tight breath. His fist clenched. He ought to slam his knuckles into the swordsman's straight nose.
Link lifted the bowl to Rat's mouth. Rat pressed his lips together, but another sob bubbled in his belly. His leg throbbed with each heartbeat. Or you will die. He cracked his lips and sipped. The warmth of the milk spread through him, and he tasted the sundelions, like melted sunlight, but the light didn't sink in. Instead, he shuddered with exhaustion and clutched the blanket to his chest.
The swordsman waited. He pulled off his left glove and laid his calloused palm on Rat's forehead.
Rat jerked his head away.
"Finish it." The bowl touched his lips again.
"Sundelions don't work on me," Rat whispered. "I've tried. I've been down there too long."
Weapons clinked as the swordsman set down the bowl and stood. The pommel of a knight's broadsword peeked above his right shoulder, tarnished with corruption. Wasn't he supposed to carry the Master Sword?
The swordsman unhooked a slate from his belt. The blue glow of the screen lit up his face, and a circle stamped the rock under his feet. Ancient symbols wound through the circle, twisting with magic. A few months ago, Rat had seen a similar circle under an activated light root while he was traveling with the Yiga to the Southwestern Mine. The soldiers said Link could fly between those symbols, quick as thought. Link's finger hovered over the screen.
Stay here. A warm memory echoed in Rat's mind. He felt his pallet sink as his mother kneeled on the edge of his bedroll. Woolen blankets scratched his skin as she pulled them up to his chin on the night she left him. She caressed his face. Her nails trailed along the curve of his cheek. She smiled. Be strong. I'll come back.
Link touched the slate.
Rat's voice cracked. "Where are you going?"
Blue light raised the swordsman into the air. His feet and legs split into glowing ribbons. Rat's left arm shot out, knocking over the milk, and he grasped Link's dissolving ankle. The same blue light crawled up Rat's arm and down his chest. It felt cold, sterile. The light lifted him with the swordsman and swept him into the air.