It was a memory, unbound by the sands of time, that came unbidden to her.
She had been searching for a lost child. A little girl who, after witnessing a fight between her parents, had stolen her family's sandseal and ran into the scorching desert sands. One of her mothers, tear-stricken and filled with grief, had begged for Koume's help. Begged her to cast a tracking spell to find the lost child. Begged her on hands and knees, bowing her head to the floor, to bring their little girl back home.
She was the most skillful mage that Gerudo Town had known in three generations. Few Gerudo ever born could match her in sheer wit and talent. And yet despite all her magic, all her knowledge, Koume never found the girl. A sandstorm, wicked and strong, had arisen three hours into her search. She had lost sight of Kiara, both in mind and sight as the tiny speck in the distance disappeared. The storm's wind whisked, its lightning spun, its sand devouring all who dared stand before its wrath. Koume had barely saved herself by hiding in some ancient shrine lit only by her torch. Hints of strange blue symbols were carved into the black sleek walls, magic lying dormant within those cold veins. She had huddled in the dark, the air damp and chill. She had thought herself alone, for only wights and fools came so deep into the desert.
Give thought to the demons, and they might come. Casting her eyes from the whipping sands, her heart leapt. A wight had emerged from the shadows of the shrine, its grey wraps illuminated by the ghastly blue light in its hands. The oversized cloak covered its face, but that would matter very little. A gibdo, imbued by dark magic or intense hatred to move amongst the living once more, eternally starving for that which was gone. Trapped between the howling storm and a gruesome death, she lit a fire in her own palm.
She eyed the monster, another spell ready to spill from her lips. Then, with careful and long fingers wrapped in mud-stained bandages, the gibdo drew back its winding wraps and hood.
This was no corpse. Still, her blood froze. The face of a Gerudo youth with orange hair, dark skin, and eyes of amber. He had then offered her food. She had nearly bolted into the still blustering sandstorm outside at the sight.
A voe Gerudo, a demon had found her.
But...a boy, too. Trapped in the same sandstorm as she deep in the desert. He had said that his mother had thrown him out. Ashamed that she could no longer pass him off as a girl-child, she had abandoned him.
Part of Koume didn't blame her. Another part of her, far less restrained, was angered that the woman had permitted her son to live. Voe Gerudo… They always brought such trouble, if not great calamity. They could become the feared and loathed Desert King of legend, the scourge of her people. The curse that the Three had forced them to bear.
The rest of her felt disgusted by her reaction. Terrified, even. She had children herself. She was named for an ancient witch, a foul fate on the west wind. But she had not – would not – let that define her.
A name was not a destiny.
In that cold, wayside shrine, she had thus asked him his own. "Ganondorf," he had answered, then ducked his head in shame. "She called me that, a curse upon me. She hated me."
She had looked up to the heavens. Prayed that Din would give her guidance, the right words to speak.
"I am named for the witch Koume."
"There were many with that name," he replied.
Well-read then, even though he appeared no more than nine. Perhaps he was older than he looked. She would learn later he wasn't certain of his age.
"Mine is…I don't think I have to say it." He spat that last part out with vigor so intense it seemed to fume. "It's deplorable."
"We will just need to give the sisters a different name, then. Your real one will just have to remain our secret," she had replied. He nodded, relief edged in his young but hollow face. The face of one who had not had much food for a long time now. That would be the first thing she changed. "Zavien Dragmire. For my late husband. You will be the son he always wanted. The child that the desert gifted me in my time of need."
The merchants of Gerudo Town had not been pleased. A voe Gerudo, a demon, walking with their then chieftain adopted as her son. But, despite their misgivings, Zavien had proven himself to them. He grew into a fine young man. Earned the title she had once held, then was named king in this time of despair when the desert wells had long grown dry and no tree bore leaf or fruit. A leader who, if the gods allowed, might still save their people.
A mother could be proud of a son like that. Just as she was proud of all her children.
And now, he bowed before Alphonus, far from that desert shrine in which she had first found him, still young and in his prime. He had made his presence known at last, choosing this night to have a quick first audience with the Hylian King. When he lifted his gaze, the King gave a nod, a weary frown on his face.
Good. For once that blond voe wasn't smiling.
"We had not expected your presence so soon, King Dragmire," he said. "But we are more than glad to have it. Consider yourself welcome among us, an honored guest. I fear the feast must wait a few more nights, however."
Standing among the marble pillars, a pale haired man – an advisor of some type in purple robes, with an ornate staff grasped tight in one hand – huffed, shaking his head in dismay. The bard, a golden-eyed youth with surprisingly similar coloring, lifted an eyebrow at this gesture, but went back to strumming the same mellow tune as before. It was a light song fit for such soft lands.
"There is no need," Zavien replied humbly. "It is our custom to instead share a simple meal between equals. If, of course, that would please His Majesty the King."
Alphonus, who was quite rotund, gave a small sigh, but relented with a nod of his heavy head. "So be it!" He clapped once. "On the morrow, you shall join me for sup in my private dining room, and, Lord Gufuu–"
The advisor in the corner stiffened. Hmmm.
"–will accompany me. He is my Potion Master, a man of immense talent and skill," he said.
Koume looked down and straightened her dress to avoid letting her growing annoyance show. More pompous displays it seemed, just like Alphonus had done with that duel a week ago. She grew tired of all this flaunting. It did not impress, though Zavien had reminded her it was necessary to let Alphonus do as he pleased. Play the game, he had said. They needed this alliance and the King's favor, not his disdain. Yes, it was distasteful to entertain the King's frivolous acts, but such a bitter pill was worth the cure if they could merely obtain it.
She prayed for his sake that Alphonus was as reasonable under his grandiose exterior as Zavien assumed. If not… Koume plastered on a smile. The "if not" could be considered later. She would clench her teeth and swallow her doubts, for now at least. Her pride would not be smothered so easily by silly politics. It had suffered far worse than this.
Alphonus gestured to the Potion Master. "Lord Gufuu, I would like you to bring a sample of our finest elixirs for our esteemed guests."
The voe grew so pale that he appeared almost translucent, like a person with skin made of fine wax paper. A vein twitched visibly above his left eyebrow. The bright-eyed bard strummed a note quite grating and off-tune, then issued a quick apology.
"Of course," Lord Gufuu managed with a short, stiff bow. "As Your Majesty demands, it is my pleasure to obey."
At that, he all but ran from the throne room as though a lynel were at his heels. What a peculiar voe, Koume thought, despite that many in the King's court were quite strange. She would just have to keep an eye on him, then.
/-/
Melancholy strings sang in the night air, the pattering of rain an accompaniment against muddy roads of the small Village of Rauru outside the Lost Woods. Few wandered by the battered door, the sprinkling slowly increasing to a crescendo. A deterrent to remain and listen, yet still the door squealed open for those searching for the warmth of a good brew and whatever home-cooked meal was wafting from the kitchen window of the lone inn on the edge of nowhere.
"Pray tell, stranger," muttered a man at the bar. He had a burly build, calluses on top of calluses, arms thick as a pig's thigh, but he stared into his mug as another might stare into a well and expect to see the rupees glittering at the bottom. "What brings thou inta the heart of these caverns? What ask ye the dark dat ever lies in wake?"
Some mead sloshed onto the counter to his side. "What's that?" slurred the other man on one of four stools at the counter. As was tradition, they sat as far apart as possible in that small and crowded space where the heart gathered its sorrows. "Wha's that got ta do wit' anyth'ng?"
He took a moment, the foam slowly easing before his eyes. "Nothing, Barlop," he replied simply. "An old fairytale, it is. Nothing more."
A snort. The bartender set down a small bowl of nuts and none-too-subtly pushed it at Barlop. "I know you better than that, Tarin," she said. He couldn't see it, but he could hear her wiping out a mug. "You're not one to mope around here, or spend all day trying to figure out what the mead owes ya."
Tarin shook his head. He knew a lead-in when he heard it. "Just some bad luck, Gillian. Looks like w...we won't be gettin' those new mushrooms for the kitchen just yet."
Gillian crossed her arms over her chest, her washing rag hung over her thick and strong forearms. A gorgeous woman he would often say. The type he could only dream of weddin', given that scavenging for mushrooms and hunting for deer pelts just didn't pay enough to be her equal. But Marin could use a woman like this to look up to. Today, he barely noticed her, however. Today, his heart hurt too much to even bear her silver gaze upon his balding head. Like silver rupees it be, cast in the moonlight for all to see.
"I shouldn't 'ave let her go," he said, then tried to take a long slug of his drink, but found disturbingly little in the bottom of his pint. "I shouldn't 'ave said yes, Gill. Do ya have–"
She, instead, slammed a fist against the counter, rattling both peanuts and drinks. "Not for you I don't," she said. "Marin is sixteen. A bright young lady. Independent. Strong. And quick-witted as any scholar. I do know dat myself. She made her own choice, I'm sure, she don't need yer permission to go looking for mushrooms by 'erself."
"But I'm her pa!" He tried to rise to his feet, but instead, stumbled, falling back onto his stool with a heavy thud. Tarin buried his head, eyes marking the dark behind his hands. "I'm her pa, Gillian."
That last bit barely arose above the din of the bar.
"And yer been sick as a dog dat ate the cat's shit."
She placed a gentle but callused hand on top of his own. Tarin peeked at her through his fingers, but did not lift his head.
"Don't matter," he said. "No matter how old she is. I'm. Her. Pa. And she hasn't come back. It's been a whole three days, and there ain't no sign of her anywhere…"
The woman sighed, and praise Hylia, filled his mug with the holy ale of the gods. That which might make a man forget his troubles.
"Did you tell the guards?"
He took a long and thankful slug. "Yeah. No good though they be. Ye know as well as me dat the men station here ain't worth their weight in green rupees."
"Hmmm, I 'pose. Though Mat's a good un."
He took another drink, long and steady. She thought his Marin should court Mat. Always said that. Then she wouldn't have to hunt shrooms no more. Might not be exactly happy and in love, but a full belly was better than either.
"Nothin' come of it. Nothing. You know what the Woods be like," he said. "And that's where she gone. Thinks she can find 'em damn truffles there. Think she can...dear gods…" He buried his face in his hands. Not a thing left. Not a damn rupee at the bottom of the well. "She's stalfos now, ain't she?"
The barkeep placed a hand on his shoulder, but did not deny his words. Did not pacify his fears. They all knew the risk of making a living off the Woods. The dark things that could happen if one didn't take care when they ventured inside. And even, sometimes, when they took every precaution possible. The Woods beguiled and twisted and turned. The best of men could lose their wits along its haunted paths.
Each year he said he'd leave 'em behind, but each year he stayed. And now, by Hylia, it was too late.
"She's stalfos just like her ma…"
The squealing of worn, rusty hinges punctured the moment, followed by the hesitant plucking of strings. The wandering bard in the corner quickly picked up the rhythm again as a dark and foreboding figure came into the tavern. Covered head to toe in a black cloak, they were as a shadow emerging from the dark. A specter from the Woods itself, unwavering in its approach. Such things were whispered among those who made a living off the forest. Ghosts that dined with men. Tarin shivered. It was said to be an oracle of doom. His fear for Marin increased. Had this stranger come just to tell him that she had expired? Such was the role of such harbingers in the stories.
Nothing except the specter's form was apparent, for it was tall and broad, a giant among men with its head looming high above the other patrons. Yellow eyes gazed from deep within its hood, seeming to glow in the dark. And yet, with each step, Tarin heard the distinct crank of haunted metal on creaking wood.
When the figure reached the bar, it bowed its head, formal and tight, then spoke. "I could not help but overhear–"
"He didn't, I did!" A young lass bounded up to the counter, too young to be drinking anything but plain milk. She looked a good four years younger than Marin. What was a girl that age doing in here so late? "Ran out and got–"
The man raised a hand encased in a silver gauntlet with black glove beneath it. "Yes, thank you for the correction, Naneth," he said dryly. "I am Sir Bazz, Knight and First Lieutenant of the Nineteenth Platoon–"
"He means the Bazz Brigade," the girl corrected again. "It's a lot better, ya gotta admit."
An unamused sigh escaped him, and Tarin felt a moment of pity. At the very least, this giant of a man could use a drink. Knight, he mentally corrected. At least he was no ghost, it seemed. But what was a knight doing so close to nowhere?
"Pardon my squire," he continued, hood turned towards the girl, but she merely grinned up at him in reply. "Either way, we have just finished a recent reconnaissance mission in the forest, and could not help but notice your good man's distress."
Tarin's heart twisted, hollowed out. He knew the reputation of real knights and what they would demand for such a good deed. It was how they got so rich and fat off the little folk like he.
"How much will this cost?" he asked, resigned. Between his meager savings and his daughter's life, he knew which could burn. If it meant he was in debt for the rest of his life, he would accept it.
"A thou–"
The silver gauntlet covered the girl's mouth. "The King pays us well enough to protect this land without resorting to bribery," the man snapped, a sneer alight in his voice. "We only ask for your patience, supplies for ourselves, and a few questions. Do not fear, we will find your daughter before the sun sits on the morrow."
"If ye were already in the woods…" Gillian began, uncertain.
"It was more, like, along the edges up north a bit from here," the girl said. "Not even a single flying skull, just a few skeletons and things."
The knight cleared his throat. "Either way," he said, "I offer my service for food, and lodging and shelter for the soldiers and their horses under my command." A few more eyes fell upon them, but the knight did not seem to care that he had drawn the attention of the tavern's late night patrons. "Most are new to this. But you have my word, Goodman Tarin, we will return your daughter whole, not damned."
"For the offer alone, ye can have the four rooms up 'em stairs in the back," Gillian said, motioning toward the back door. "How many are ya?"
"Twenty-seven will need lodging for the next two days," he said. "Worry not, a hard wood floor is better than another night in the rain. Thank you for your offer, barkeep, and your kindness. I must go and fetch my men."
The tall fellow and the girl left, the latter shaking her head and muttering something about the knight's foolhardy generosity. Once they reached the exit, the knight ducked into the cold and rain outside, the tip of his hood barely missing the top of the doorframe.
"What ye think of that?" Gillian finally asked, shaking her head once the haunted knight had gone.
"I don't rightly know," Tarin said. "But whoever heard of 'em knights givin' a lick about little folk like us?"
It looked like he had found rupees in the bottom of the well after all. He just hoped they were better than old greens.
/-/
"Twenty-seven?" Nan asked, slightly confused, as they sludged through the muddy road. Rather than the cobblestones she had grown accustomed to over the past months, the village's main street was nothing more than a trampled route born of travelers, carts, and horses. It was a little like being back in Windfall or Outcast where she could shuck off her boots and run just about anywhere. Only now, Bazz would probably lecture her for hours instead of rolling his eyes at her for such inanity. A proper squire did not act so childish.
The Village of Rauru was just a stone's throw away from the Minshi Woods, and a short trek from the Lost Woods and all its spookiness and possibly flying skulls. It was the largest of the villages scattered around the forest, a set of settlements that made no sense to Nan. Why would anyone wanna live near a forest with trees that bore no leaves and had a spooky fog? What made people want to live here, near a forest that could make them undead if they just got a fistful of bad luck? Then again, she supposed it wasn't that different than living in the Dark World had been. Maybe these people were stuck here, too.
When Bazz offered nothing in reply, Nan crossed her arms and scrunched up her face. "Twenty-seven," she repeated. "But there's thirty-one in the Brigade including Ruu right now. It's... Wait."
She grabbed at Bazz's dark cloak, yanking it hard. He had ploughed quite a ways ahead as she gave into sagely contemplation. Despite the state of the road and weight of his armor, Bazz had no trouble trudging through the sludge. "You're not thinking 'bout heading out tonight are ya?"
He continued on, dragging her forward instead. That...why was he being so…stupid stubborn? Nan gave a fierce tug, but even with all her might, she couldn't slow him down an inch. Instead, he dragged her boots through the mud, leaving twin streaks behind in the road.
"Bazz!"
Abruptly, he came to a stop, and she slammed head first into his back then stumbled back a few steps, slightly dazed. Damn, but that armor sure was hard. At least it wasn't the road at their feet. She wouldn't have to answer to Ruuya or Sarge for why she'd fallen in the mud at least. They wouldn't think to blame Bazz. Nope. They'd think she had tripped over a root or rock or something just like before.
Yeah, it had happened like twenty times in the past week, but that didn't mean it happened every time. Gods. She wasn't that clumsy.
"Tis my intent."
"That's irrational!" She threw her hands into the air. "You're irrational!"
"Is it?" he asked, continuing on but at a slower pace. She still had to half-jog to keep up with him. Stupid Zora and his stupid long legs. She was not that short! He was just especially huge. "The deepest parts of this forest are fraught with danger."
"And you offered to venture into its depths for free."
"Quite so."
"In the pouring rain."
"Aye."
Wasn't a pair of stalfos and three angry poes enough ghouls for one trip? She bit back that snappy reply, teeth clacking together instead. A brave and courageous knight-in-training wouldn't've complained about such a thing. Yet, she could still hear the inhuman screeching from earlier in the week when a stalfols lunged at her and Linkle from the depths of the Lost Woods. The other girl had swung her blade into its path, eyes narrowed as she parried and subdued the monster by herself. Nan was from the Dark World, had lived amongst weird lookin' neighbors for a long time and seen more creepy monsters than nearly anybody in the Castle. Heck, probably more than the whole freaking country! But those monsters...dead but cunning, hanging around nowhere with such purple hatred surrounding them that she had to wonder how no one else had even flinched.
She was not some coward that freaked out at the first spook that jumped out of the forest fog. She was better than that, even without her Maa's gift, but all of that fighting had been during the daylight. Now, even the sky was hidden by dark, thick clouds.
She stared up at the cloud heavy heavens, a bit of it lighting up far, far away. "Why?" Thunder rumbled above the forest to the north.
"Gufuu has had too much influence on you, I see," he said softly, and she wondered if he had meant to say that part aloud at all. "There is a young woman trapped in that forest–"
"And we haven't gotten any sleep."
Bazz gave a brief nod, withdrawing his hood as they reached the edge of town despite the light rain. Zora. Nan rolled her eyes. Walking-fish were sure weird, liking the pitter-patter of cold, wet rain and all. He always seemed more alive in weather like this.
"I have considered that, Nan. However, three days have passed. The likelihood she is still herself grows smaller by the hour, the transformation more sure…"
She crossed her arms, like she'd seen Zelda's nanny do a lot. It would make her look wise and imposing and not like a child, just like a Sage should. On second thought, Nan stuck out her tongue. "And you, with your stupid paa-aaaternal instincts, couldn't just say no."
"As I recall, it wasn't I who first overheard the conversation," he replied. Nan scratched the back of her head, sludging water onto the mud at her feet. Well… It was easier to just blame Bazz. She, obviously, did not commit heroics. And this! It was downright impulsive. "Not that your assessment is incorrect."
Before he could say more on the matter, Nan realized they had entered the camp proper. Orders were issued quickly. Most of the Brigade, surprisingly fast and efficient, began to tie up their bed mats and pick up camp. Happy, no doubt, at the news they would soon escape the rain and damp. She, Linkle, and Ruuya were to accompany Bazz into the Lost Woods, tonight apparently, once the camp was cleared. Of all the stupid plans and ideas...
Nan, still in a huff, tore into a piece of jerky Linkle had given her as the three unfortunate souls sat on a log near the remnants of one of many campfires. Not an ember still played in the dead and blackened ashes, even when Nan stirred it with a stick. Ruuya had somehow fallen asleep in the meantime: her shoulders slumped, head buried in her hood, and muttering in her sleep, though no voes or vais escaped her lips.
"You know," Linkle said, admiration alight in her voice as she tucked into her own salted goat meat. "I thought I could sleep anywhere, but Ruu sure got me beat."
Nan caught a murmured "Vaati" on the wind. Uh oh.
"What do you think she's dreaming of?"
Nan shrugged. "Not sure." She puffed out a sigh. "But she hasn't slept well this week. It's gotta be all them potions she's been makin'."
"Making?" Linkle asked, head tilted to the side so that blonde bangs fell over one blue eye and hid it. Unlike when this kind of thing happened to Vaati, it looked cute. A bit like a bunny with a golden fringe or some such innocent thing. "Don't you mean tasting?"
"Nah, it's the fumes." Nan snapped her nose closed between thumb and pointer as dramatically as possible. "Gets to her head and makes it all fuzzy."
Linkle rested her elbows on Nan's thigh, chin in her hands. She swore the other girl had no sense of personal space, but...well at least it made Nan feel a bit warmer. It was so damn chilly she wished she'd brought a good warm coat.
"Is that why she talks in her sleep?"
"Ah, could be."
More murmured words escaped Ruuya's lips, but Nan couldn't catch the language. It didn't sound familiar, but she was no linguist, ancient or otherwise. Maybe the words were just obscure. Maybe… Ruuya shivered inside her cloak, then, suddenly, she grabbed Linkle's shoulders, eyes too wide and irises too small, shining bright like a poe had possessed her.
"It's you."
Harshly, Nan pushed them apart. "Of course it's me," Linkle said. "Are you feeling okay, Ruu?"
The Gerudo gathered the cloak around her shoulders, wrapping herself up tight as a caterpillar in a cocoon. Even buried in the darkness of her hood, her eyes appeared red and bloodshot. "Yes," she lied, then lifted her head slightly, giving a nod to...oh no. A shadow blocked the misty but full moon. "It's time to go, then?"
She almost sounded thankful. Like a woman avoiding an uncomfortable subject.
The dark and imposing figure of Bazz stood before them still obscured mostly in black fabric, only glimpses of silver armor beneath. His head-tail grew stiff.
"On second thought, Viscen," Bazz said, looking down at the lanky Hylian at his side. Nan hadn't even noticed the Sergeant before this, but Bazz tended to dwarf people, even a man nearly as tall as Ruuya. It didn't help that the Zora was far more...burly, too. "Perhaps you have it right. Please pack your things, ladies, we head out at dawn's first light on the morrow."
"That's still too soon, sir," Sarge argued, then popped open his pocket watch, flashing a spark of Din's Fire to see its weird and colorful face in the night. Nan found herself nodding along. She'd rather get more sleep than be a hero. Heroes were dimwits. "Four...maybe five hours tops. It's not enough sleep for a person your a–"
"Noted."
Viscen cleared his throat. "Let alone these youths," he added, but too quickly. "At the very least, a few more soldiers…or myself...could go!"
The Zora stomped the butt of his silver spear against the ground. "Enough, Sergeant." He did not raise his voice, but the camp had fallen silent at his icy tone. Every one of the Brigade watched, their bedrolls and bags forgotten. "You know how dangerous the interior of the Woods can be. The larger the group, the more people I put at risk. If you come along, then we may lose both this platoon's officer and its Sergeant. Furthermore, it might save us from any foolhardy acts if we are to linger in the forest too long. I will not allow it. Do not question me further on this."
"I…but…" His words brought forth a glare, wordless, sharp, and commanding. That look could cow a flame. Viscen stiffened straight as a pole, then saluted. "Yes, sir."
Then Viscent gave a shout to the guards who had, indeed, stopped packing as they watched this argument unfurl. "Get back to it! Unless you lot like sleeping in the bloody rain!" Lightning flashed above again, now far closer. A few of the youngest jumped at the sound. "Or thunder!"
Once Viscen had marched off and twenty-some souls had jumped at his orders, Bazz slumped against the nearest tree. "May Nayru save us from heroes," he muttered. Nan snorted. "Including myself, yes. I was acting unusually rash, wasn't I?"
All Nan could do was nod in response. This wasn't her fault, after all.
"So, six?" Linkle asked, hopefully. "That works, right?"
A sigh sounded from the Zora. "I suppose so."
Nan cheered. Thank the gods. She didn't have to get up quite so early. In her excitement, she hugged Ruuya without a second thought. But Ruuya, quiet, looked on with haunted eyes, seeing only the things that danced in the dark.