Part 3: The Potion Master of Hyrule

Chapter 19: The Edge of Shadow

Tales of what Gufuu, Lord of Windfall, had done to save his village and cleanse the waters infected by malice spread quickly, like a small fire lit in a dry grove then caught by a strong gust of wind. The trees had been reduced to ashes, but now the whole kingdom knew who Gufuu was, and the tale, like the fire, grew brighter and larger with each retelling.

This, her mothers had said, was how legends were born.

What were legends, however, to the defeated, deafened masses?

Despite life having returned to Windfall, the town was as an empty and dead shell to Ruuya. The smiles the others gave her seemed strained and fake. Their conversations, forced and stilted. How could they go back to something resembling normalcy so easily? How could they be so...so cheerful. It had been the better part of four months since Alysse had passed. Her name amongst others carved into a stone set in the center of town, a reminder of those lost. A reminder of who they carried on for. And yet the summer sun provided no warmth.

For a single day she wanted the world to stop. For everyone to sit down and mourn with her. For Windfall to be silent as the losses were acknowledged.

But the silence had been cut short. There was work to be done. There always was.

Her mind was wrapped in numbing grief as she filled orders and bottles. She felt nothing at the barbs and commands thrown her way from behind her back. She felt nothing leading Jamila to the woods for ingredients. She felt nothing, even, when the pigeon came in early autumn and Vaati received the invitation to come to Hyrule Castle and act as its potion master. In the past, she would have found the triumphant grin on his face appalling. The inevitable coming of a Hylian soldier may have had her fleeing. A found Gerudo was a dead Gerudo, and none save the local villagers and the one drunk merchant knew of her being there. A ruse perpetrated for over a year.

Now, she couldn't bring herself to care. Now, the idea of that distant land did not fill her with dread, though she knew it should. All she felt was the same cold void which had persisted for four long months.

"You ought to be excited," he chided, leaning over the black pot where she worked. "You've always wanted to escape this damnable village as much as I have."

She remained quiet, barely noting his presence. Instead, she just continued to mix the large pot of bubbling, green potion with slow, mechanical strokes.

"Bah," he said, waving a hand in her face, but Ruuya inched away. Did he not realize she could care less? "I will be off to see Vaatimar."

She didn't respond. Only stirred.

"Fine," he spat. "Stay here."

He stomped away and the door soon slammed shut behind him. Why was he mad? She was making potions just as he wanted, all day, everyday, and… She didn't even know the little boy's real name.

Why does it matter? she thought. Tears fell down her cheeks and into the simmering green liquid in the large pot. She ignored them, clenching the ladle. I don't deserve to be there.

/-/

The stars were still out in the east when the pair left the potion shop the following week, though only a few peaked through the dark, overcast sky. The sunrise to the west was buried in fog, thus the only real light they had to guide them that day were the torches Ruuya had lit with a spark of Din's Fire at Vaati's command. Even with these, each building in Windfall appeared only as dark silhouettes, specters with rare, orange eyes where the occupants had already awoken and begun their day.

None, however, seemed to know of their leavetaking. They were just another pair of wisps in the mists, poes passing from one world to the next. Ghosts in a shadowy world made of cloud and fog, silent as the grey morning around them save, of course, for the clop of horseshoes against packed earthen roads and the ever-pleasant crackle of magical flames.

No one, it seemed, had come out to stop them. That was by design, of course. Vaati had spoken with Joshua alone about their plans, wishing to leave the village with as little fanfare as possible. He hadn't told her the particulars, or if he had, they had fallen on dead ears. It didn't matter that part of her wished to stay. She didn't deserve to.

For she had nearly destroyed her home, bringing plague and ruin upon those she loved. Another home, another exile. She briefly wondered if this would always be the route her life took. Always the wanderer, never settled. A woman whose only gift was to betray those she loved. First her sisters, and now, Alysse and Windfall. Would she betray Vaati too?

She did not have time to register that thought, as Vaati's grey mare came to a sudden stop at the edge of the village. What had caught his eye? Had someone found them out? She guided Jamila to his side, frowning despite the hood and fog that obscured her visage beneath a veil of shadow.

"Why are you stopping?" she whispered, voice low as a rope's hiss. He rolled his eyes in reply, then proceeded to glare into the fog as their breaths puffed faintly in the morning chill. "It's a long way…"

"I am surprised you came so willingly," he said, head turned yet away from her.

She bit her lip at that statement.

"There are Hyrulian guards at the Castle. The type that you fear would kill a Gerudo if they saw one." For a moment, his cape fluttered briefly in the wind. "You could stay here. They tolerate you. I offered you the choice to be my representative among them while I was gone, and yet…"

She hadn't noticed. Hadn't heard. Hadn't cared. She had just said she would go.

Red eyes flashed in the fog. "Why are you insisting on coming now, girl? This isn't the desert witch I know."

"I don't belong," she answered plainly. He raised an eyebrow. It was an unasked question, not in mockery. "You don't care, Vaati." She shook her head. "Why even ask? You have what you want." And I have mine.

Perhaps, part of her hoped, she might feel something again if confronted by one of the Castle guards. Fear. Panic. Hatred. Something other than this cold, numb abyss that left her feeling grey as the thick mist which covered the town.

But she would not let Vaati hear such thoughts. She barricaded her mind so tight that nothing could seep in or out. "We shouldn't chatter here," she said. "If we do, the whole village might wake, and…"

He grabbed Jamila's reigns. The horse snapped her jaw shut in warning, nearly biting the neck of Vaati's mare. Still, it was enough to make Ruuya pause.

"What?"

"Have you forgotten, or is your head so stuffed with wool that you have gone deaf as well as witless?" he asked, scowling. "Our companions aren't here yet."

She tilted her head. "We're not going alone."

He gave her a flat stare. "Both, then."

"Ah, I hope we are not interrupting an important discussion, my Lord Gufuu," said an unmistakable voice from behind them. Ruuya jumped the slightest bit. She hadn't even heard their approach… "I am sorry for our tardiness, my lord, but I fear young Nan is not much of an early riser."

Turning, she saw the young woman stifle a yawn behind her hand, blinking sleepily. Like Bazz, Nan rode a gilding, though this one was slender and black; not bulky and bay, a horse strong and large enough to carry a Zora on its back. Ruuya stared at them wordlessly, uncertain what to say.

"Mornin' Ruu." She waved lazily. "Nice ta see ya outside the shop for once."

Ruuya stared. "I...leave," she said, mind and tongue failing her.

"Uh huh. Whatever." Nan seemed plenty awake to Ruuya, even if knight-in-training did cover another yawn behind her hands. "She looks like a deer caught in the firelight."

"Nan."

She shrugged dismissively. "How long does it take to reach the castle?" Well, at least Ruuya wasn't the only one uninformed about certain details of their journey. "What?"

"A week, I believe."

Nan's shoulders slumped.

"And we, as Vaati's...Lord Gufuu's honored guard, will be expected to take watch each night, too." The Zora flashed Nan a toothy grin, releasing a stream of grumbling from his young companion. "It is part of our responsibility to keep him safe."

More mumbles followed, including some choice words about Vaati's lack of magic and flabby arms.

"Would you two stay quiet?" the mage snapped, his fangs bared. "I don't want the whole town to wake because neither of you could keep your damned mouths shut!" The two exchanged a glance, then Bazz chuckled. "I swear. I will turn you both to toads one day...and you." The former sorcerer whirled on Ruuya, staying perfectly seated in the saddle. She had not expected him to ride so well. "Stop smirking. By goddesses, I am surrounded by blabbermouths and dullards!"

In a huff, he nudged his horse forward with a click. Ruuya stared at his retreating back in shock. Shock. Surprise. A bit of… She wiped at her eyes.

And smiled, following after him.

/-/

Despite that spark of light, Ruuya still seemed pale and greyed out to Nan. The colors retreated until all that was left was dull orange hair and parched brown skin, like dry leaves in late autumn. She wasn't sure how to feel about that description. The others didn't seem to notice it in the same way she did, even Bazz, who was ever perceptive. Sure, he knew Ruuya was feeling down, but when she described this to him…

The Zora had frowned, then shook his head, and had fallen into a thoughtful silence, ending it only with a: "I worry about her, too."

Then he had changed the topic, because, she realized, it was that topic and she had said she didn't want anything to do with it. Sage things. She wished Maa was here to give her answers. That Maa had mentioned it. That...she could be here to deal with it instead of Nan.

Because Nan didn't know the first thing about Saging. She wasn't interested. She was not, but it seemed to creep back into her daily life at inconvenient times, like destiny was saying she had no choice in the matter.

Gods. She wished Maa was here. She'd know how to deal with this, and how to help Ruuya, too. Nan had pulled the short straw again and gotten morning watch. For the fourth day in a row.

Something, she realized, wasn't right here. It was almost like Bazz was manipulating…no. That couldn't be it, why would Bazz…? Was this some kind of test?

She glared at the Zora, snoring away with his spear still in hand, blues and blacks rippling along his form like a second skin, but before she could disturb his rest and give him a piece of her mind, Nan heard the cackle of mutters from the other side of the dying fire. It wasn't Vaati. The old man slept in a tent he had forced Bazz to throw in his saddlebag so he could sleep like a king and avoid the bugs and elements, unlike the rest of them. No, the mutters arose from Ruuya, who was tossing and turning in her sleep.

Careful not to make a sound, Nan crept to where Ruuya lay. Her head shimmered with sweat in the grey light of predawn, suddenly bright with crimsons and panic. Red strands had also escaped her ponytail, curly and frizzled. They gave her an unkempt appearance that sent a chill down Nan's spine. What night terror could give the guile Gerudo such a fright?

"Nan?" the Gerudo murmured, though her eyes were closed. The Gerudo seemed to redden to her eyes. "Nan! Where are you? Why...why...Nan!"

"I'm here-"

"I can't see. Purple fog, it...it. It covers everything."

"The malice?"

The Gerudo paused. "I can't see. I can't see. It spared no one. Not the vai. Not the vehvi. The fog came. And no one is-"

Nan had had enough. She slapped Ruuya awake.

Or tried.

"The darkness is choking...us. me. Its hands...its hands. It's too hot. It's too hot. It's…" Again, Nan slapped her. This time, thank the gods, her eyes flashed open. Ruuya took in a harsh breath.

"Nan?"

"Those are some crazy-ass dreams," Nan replied, folding her arms. "Are you alright? The plague's finished, Ruu. We're fine."

The Gerudo didn't speak, instead, glancing aside.

"I...that was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it?" How could she have even said it, she wondered briefly, when so many hadn't made it? But, well…just because she was a girl didn't mean she was all nurturing and stuff. Nan would fit into those stereotypes when pa could wear his old suits again. Never, probably.

"I just have these dreams sometimes," Ruuya said, burying her head in her hands. "This makes me sound like a child..."

"We all have nightmares, sometimes. I still dream of what the plague...almost did to me." She swallowed, but put on as brave a face as she could manage. She would soon be a knight, after all. She could not let the darkness win. Maa wouldn't want that. "What it did to Maa. I can't stop it. Sometimes I dream it took you and pa and the twins and Bazz, too."

The Gerudo sighed instead, resting her head on top of her knees. "Nan, that's the thing," she said, weaving a strand of loose hair through her fingers. "I've had dreams like these before the plague struck."

"We all have bad dreams."

"That's what Alysse said too."

She really was bad at this comforting thing, wasn't she?

"It's…" Ruuya heaved a long sigh. "Never mind."

Nan threw her arms around the Gerudo and hugged her, though Ruuya didn't return it. Instead, her arms stayed limp, and she shook slightly, and something wet dampened Nan's shoulder. Probably rain. It was pretty cloudy today.

Even though the sun painted the morning sky in shades of gold.

"Ah, so that was the commotion," Bazz said, a frown in his voice. For someone who liked to say she didn't like to get up, he never seemed to like mornings much either. "Are you two alright?"

They exchanged a quick, awkward glance, a nascent promise. Don't tell the guys about the dreams.

"Yes," Ruuya said, quickly jumping to her feet and tripping slightly. Nan caught her before she could stumble further, cursing the Gerudo's lack of toes. "I'll wake Vaati."

"Good luck with that," Nan said, knowing full-well that she would need it. Vaati was a terror in the morning. "Right. I'll make some tea."

The Zora rubbed at his eyes sleepily, then, still frowning, followed his charge back to the fire to help with breakfast.

/-/

"I do not like this idea, Your Majesty."

Impa, the last known Sheikah, servant to the Royal Line, stood at attention beside the current patriarch. Arms folded, she tapped her shoulder impatiently, or perhaps nervously, but the King was not privy to her inner most thoughts and he had never been very good at reading her.

"Bringing a foreign lord from that village is a security risk," she said firmly. "It puts yours, and worse, my charge's, life in jeopardy."

The King released a heavy sigh, placing his hands under his bearded chin. He gave his former nursemaid a flat look. "Noted, but dismissed," he said. "We have been absent a Potion Master for the better part of three years. It is a poor thing. What if Zelda were to become ill? Or if I were to be poisoned by my chief advisor because he slipped something into my drink?"

Impa snapped her jaw shut, letting out a predatory growl. "Because the last Potion Master was the one who tried to poison you with something that we thought was cough syrup," she said tersely, and letting the slightest bit dry disbelief slip into her voice. "Have you forgotten?"

The King dipped a pen in the inkwell resting on top of his desk. "Be that as it may, Impa, be that as it may."

She scowled, certain it would add more lines to her cheeks. At fifty-six, she was not getting any younger, although her back was still straight and she was more than confident that she could take on any knight in the castle if they decided to try to harm her liege or charge; or if they merely wanted a spar. Still, the pure stubbornness of this young fool was beginning to wear her thin. If her hair weren't already white like all Sheikah, she was certain another strand would have been bleached in the midst of this conversation.

"Might I speak bluntly, sir?"

"Nothing has ever stopped you from doing so," remarked the King. The skritching of quill on parchment paused for a brief moment as he gestured at her. "Go ahead."

Impa's lips flattened to a line. "We do not know what caused the plague in Windfall," she reported, "but what is worse, we do not know what kind of man this Gufuu truly is."

The King rested a hand under his chin. "All that is indeed true."

She raised her eyebrows. "Then why are you insisting on doing this foolhardy thing, Alphonus?"

He stopped writing his letter, replaced the quill, then slowly withdrew a slender silver key from a pocket sewn into his splendid red and white robes. With care, he unlocked a drawer near the floor, one she already knew the contents of.

Then, as sudden as submerging in Death Mountain's hot springs, she felt a spark of light magic, the kind attuned to those with Royal blood in their veins. Hope, serenity, peace; these she sensed, too.

Hylia's power, the magic of divinity.

As it faded, he reached into the drawer further than what should have been possible, then pulled out an oversized envelope and cut the royal seal binding it free. Impa felt a chill. She didn't like this. It meant the King had hidden things from her. Worse, it meant she didn't know everything he apparently did. Lacking information meant she couldn't effectively do her other job.

"Lord Gufuu sent me descriptions of the toxic ooze which covered the town of Windfall."

Alright, that wasn't news. Baza had delivered her something similar. "A vile purple sludge sprouting with eyeballs that exuded toxins and a sense of malicious intent," Impa said. This time it was the King who looked taken aback. "I have my outside contacts, too, your young Majesty."

He laughed, the hearty sound arising from his plump belly. He looked more and more like his father every passing day, she thought, with his golden beard and balding head and the streaks of white at his temples, like wings. It was hard not to see the ghost of the late King Ramu in his son, a heartbreaking, if bittersweet, sight. He had gone too soon and left only his shadow. "Of course you would. To think I could have known more than my spymaster," he said, fondly. "There have, however, been more reports at other locals as well ever since this first outbreak came to an end...which, I am sure you are already aware."

She nodded.

"I went into the Royal Archives." He paused, then waved her over to join him behind his desk. "These are pictures produced by the late Queen Zelda Tetra Hyrule VII." He gestured to the pictograph lying on his desk. A strange yellow eyeball on a stalk stared back. On either side, it was surrounded by dark, purple goop. "It fits the description, does it not?"

"Did she mention how to defeat it?"

"That, I fear, is lost to time," he said, wearily rubbing his forehead. "But there is one man in this accursed kingdom who has conquered this affliction."

"If that story is even true." But she knew it was. She had asked the other merchants stuck in Windfall and the Sheikah spies she had sent to infiltrate the village about it as well. They had all confirmed his tale: that one day, the village had been covered in the strange, toxic sludge and the next day, there was not a sign of it and all those who had been made ill due to drinking the water were cured of the plague that had ravaged the town. "So, we are to trust a complete stranger with no oaths sworn to the king."

He shook his head. "Not at all," he answered. This made her smile, but only internally. "But I fear he might be the best chance we have to fight against our current plight…"

"I see."

"Lest it become a calamity."