Gruve was tired. Climbing did not come naturally to the young Zora bull, but Prince Sidon had made it clear that any and every vantage point must be used to sight a Hylian who might help them.
The blue-skinned Zora shook his head, making his long headtail sway slowly back and forth. If there were any Hylians in the Lanayru Wetlands, they were likely in one of the cooking pots simmering in the nearby lizalfo camp. Gruve had seen the odd lizalfo before, of course. Occasionally, one of the lizard-like monsters was brave enough to venture as far as Oren Bridge or even Luto's crossing. Such occurrences were rare, and the lone offender usually found itself outnumbered and fleeing an entire patrol of Zora guards.
The opposite would be true here, if he was not careful. An alarming number of camp fires dotted the wetlands that stretched east and south of the rocky hill where Gruve was perched. Each site belonged to a small group of vicious lizardspawn; at least ten score of them were gathered in what had for years served as abundant fishing grounds for Zora and Hylian alike. Gripping his silver spear, Gruve wondered if such a force had been seen since The Great Calamity. Only King Dorephan or the elders could answer that.
The Zora River, as well as the larger and parallel Rutala to the south, fed directly into the wetlands. Gruve had been just fifty years old when he snuck away for his first "adventure" outside the Domain. He winced at the memory of his mother's stern look, and more so at recalling his father's punishment. The Zora ruefully rubbed his tail fin, which had served as his conscience ever since.
Since reaching adulthood, Gruve had come to this place many times with fishing parties, and this hill was his favorite resting spot. He liked the view; from here, he could see how the Zora and Rutala sandwiched this extension of the Zodobon Highlands that accompanied both rivers eastward.
Death Mountain reared majestically to the north, a smoke-and-fire-filled sight normally invisible from his home due to the heights of Upland Zorana. To the west and beyond the lizalfo camps, Hyrule Castle stood in forgotten majesty, lifeless save for the dull gleam produced by the last rays of a setting sun. Gruve sadly wondered if it would ever again thrive as the histories said it once did. Gazing at the spread of evil before him, the young Zora doubted it.
Beyond the southern banks of the Rutala reared Quatta's Shelf, a singular expanse of high mountain that supposedly hid the nearest village of Hylians. What was it called, again? Kakariko, that was it. King Dorephan had instructed his son and those accompanying him to search near the village, but not to enter. A people called the Sheikah, the king had said, might still dwell there even after the Calamity had destroyed nearly all the villages of men. If some remained however, the King had made it clear the Zora would likely be unwelcome intruders to one of the most secretive sects of Hylians in Hyrule's history.
A handful of Gruve's water brethren had circled north in an attempt to slip past the lizalfos and search as near Kakariko as they dared. Gruve hoped they were all right, that one of them might come across a Hylian village or stable (Dorephan said several of the latter dotted Hylian lands) and not a lizalfo hunting party.
Gruve was stationed to watch for his brethren's return and bring word swiftly back to Prince Sidon, who was eagerly waiting for his own turn to search at nearby Inogo Bridge. Gruve grinned with pride. His prince had sent his party ahead by water while they two combed the footpaths travelers normally used to reach Zora's Domain. They found no Hylians, only the growing mass of lizardspawn. Urgent as their mission was, Gruve knew his prince was worried that so many of the enemy were gathered near their beloved homewater.
Without warning, the ground heaved beneath Gruve's fins. He wondered wildly whether the lizalfos were scaling the hill en masse, but he heard no accompanying hisses or sounding battle horns. He had been leaning against an oblong obtrusion of rock at the top of the hill, but he fell away as it broke from the ground and began to rise. Then Gruve was rising, the hill beneath him breaking apart as a previously hidden platform lifted him toward the sky. The ground's rumbling grew distant as he was borne aloft. Clinging to the platform's surface — it felt oddly smooth — the young Zora braved a glance at the quickly receding ground. The lizalfos were stirring like a school of bass frightened out of its alcove. The wave of enraged lizard monsters converged at narrow lines, then spread out again as they made their way across wooden bridges toward Gruve and his ever-rising tower.
Finally, mercifully, his skyward ascent halted. Gruve looked over the edge and saw that he was at least two hundred feet off the ground. Lizalfos bearing torches and weapons hissed and jabbered in agitation below him, though it seemed none could scale the tower directly nor by the oddly dispersed steps placed up and down its length.
Gruve knew now that the flying bird men he had heard King Dorephan mention before — the Rito? — had been some poor joke meant to frighten young calves who wanted to climb Ploymus Mountain. Nothing was meant to be this high, and he thought the back of his father's fins would reinforce that fact if he could see his son now.
Branli threw his quill into his notebook, which he slammed shut in disgust. An entire day, wasted.
The scientist — for he considered himself as such — was so very frustrated. He needed to see a Rito fly, and up close at that. Tabantha Bridge Stable was technically closer to the majestic bird race's home, but crossing the stable's namesake bridge and braving the Tabantha Frontier was a scientific theory for certain death.
Only one known path navigated its way north between Nero Hill and Piper Ridge before skirting Strock Lake and arriving at the wondrous Lake Totori, where the magnificent Rito dwelled. Unfortunately, that path was also teeming with horse-stealing, man-eating, science-indifferent Bokoblins. Never mind that Branli was more than willing to leave them to their own devices. Never mind that it was his life's work and dream to find out, once and for all, how a Rito could fly. They would simply capture him, eat him and — he shuddered especially at this last thought — use his notes for kindling.
"Mindless little savages!" Branli moaned bitterly.
The only other road leading to Rito Village curled far to the northeast, forced into its meandering track by the mighty Tanagar Canyon that gashed like a giant wound into northeastern Hyrule. Branli did not know nearly as much about that road, save for the two facts he had gleaned from travelers: a stable offered refuge on the canyon's northern side, and only caravans survived the packs of starving snow wolves that swarmed the area.
Branli had thought Ludfo's Bog, just east of the Thundra Plateau, might offer a happy medium. Its view of Rito Village, though disappointingly distant, was unobstructed by mountains. A broad opening between Mount Rhoam and Lindor's Brow perfectly framed the famed Perch Rock on which the Rito lived. Branli had hoped against hope some Rito might stray to Ludfo's Bog in search of fish. That notion, however, had proven fruitless.
He was just about to gather his things and find where his blasted horse had wandered off to when his eyes glimpsed something above the Perch. Branli frantically removed his spectacles and rubbed them against his rather rumpled tunic, then replaced them back on the bridge of his narrow nose. Was it a Rito? Surely not. It must be larger to be visible from this distance. That logic only fueled his scientific fire. It was odd enough that beings such as a Rito could take flight. What in the world could sustain itself in the air at that size?
Branli nearly dove into his knapsack in search of the prized "telescope" he had bought off a Gerudo tradeswoman. The haughty young woman had been unyielding in her asking price. Furthermore, the uppity little snippet had had the temerity to look offended after Branli had still shown the grace to pay full price and thank her for it! As if she expected more than the purple rupee he had forked over! She had simply looked him up and down, frowned, and said in her oddly broken accent, "You are not the voe for me," whatever that meant.
Still, Branli had what he needed for what could be the discovery of a lifetime. He had just put the smaller end of the brass tube to his spectacled right eye when the ground heaved beneath his feet. The telescope fell from his hands and landed large end-first on the ground, shattering its glass lens.
Cursing, Branli tried to close his knapsack, but the ground continued to roll and tremble. Suddenly, he realized he was being lifted into the air, the area around him receding quickly.
"I'm dreaming," Branli muttered. "I've been thinking about flying so much that I'm actually dreaming I can do it."
No number of pinches to his own arm, however, changed what was happening. A perfect circle of ground beneath him continued bearing Branli upward. It was a curious work, topped by many bronze arms and an obsidian stalactite at its center. Higher and higher man and structure rose until, finally, their heavenly climb halted.
Clutching the knapsack of scientific keepsakes to his chest, Branli walked slowly to and peered over the edge. He must be at least two hundred feet high!
"So this is what it feels like to fly!" the self-proclaimed scientist exclaimed with glee. "It's… it's… magnificent!"
After glorying in his newfound altitude a few minutes more, Branli removed his spectacles and scratched an offending itch on the top of his balding head.
"But...but how am I to get down?"
Almost exactly halfway between the Great Plateau and Hyrule Castle, another tower erupted from the ground and reached for the heavens. As the day waned and night approached, its elongated shadow lanced across the southern edge of Hyrule Field, falling just short of the long-abandoned ruins of the fallen nation's once-proud garrisons.
A century ago, that tower would have witnessed line upon proud line of Hylian troops, some on horseback, others on foot, all training with the sole purpose of defending king, castle and kingdom. The standard of their calling — a golden set of wings surrounding a pyramid of three golden triangles — would have waved proudly on banners of forest green all around the parade grounds.
Now, only a skeleton of the once-thriving barracks remained. Mounds of rubble surrounded broken battlements that rose to only half of their former height. The poles on which those standards had happily flown were now mostly bare, as though in mourning. One threadbare flag remained, hanging listlessly by the thinnest of margins and so worn by weather and time that only the oldest of those still living would know what it had once been.
The tower's orange light cast a pale glow as day succumbed to night. The structure stood on a rise that had once served as the commander's observation deck, from where he could view and evaluate troops to his satisfaction. Here, one hundred years ago, that commander had fallen with the last of his soldiers. Here, the heart of Hyrule's army had stopped beating.
The bones of those Hylians had long since worn away, but the metallic remains of their enemies were still illuminated by the tower's glow. Their large, bell-shaped bodies still lay rusted and half-buried in the ground.
One of the machines, fortunate enough to have retained six of its eight serpentine and clawed arms in death, lay motionless directly under the tower's glow. Then, without warning, its single orb of an eye flared to blue life. The cylindrical top half of its body raised itself from the wider bottom half, breaking off decades of dust and congealed dirt. With methodical precision, the "head" rotated, scanning its surroundings in a ceaseless swivel.
Its orders were clear. Anything that approached must be eliminated.
Impa's head gently swayed as she meditated, which in turn caused her straw hat to sway, which in turn caused the eye-shaped hooks hanging from its brim to sway.
Impa knew the hat was the oddest of oddities about her, one that put off anyone but a Sheikah. Then again, the Sheikah were odd, which was partly why they had dwelt mostly undisturbed for centuries.
A frown deepened the lines of her aged forehead, which bore a blue tattoo resembling an open eye with three triangular lashes and a single tear dropping from its lower lid. She fingered her necklace of wooden beads, wondering when her long wait would end. Her mission had not changed over her considerably long life, but how she went about it was far different than a century ago. Acting was easy. Waiting was not. She was tired of waiting. So very tired.
She had few complaints apart from that. The mountain of red cushions on which her tiny body sat cross-legged was very comfortable. Her seating arrangement stood atop a raised portion of the wooden floor, allowing her the kind of eye contact her standing self could never achieve. There was something about a shorter person meeting a taller one eye-to-eye that made the latter uneasy. Uneasiness often bred truth.
Impa heard her granddaughter before she saw her descend the stairs behind her, stairs that tracked up the back wall of her abode to the bedchamber above. She savored the smell of the tea Paya had prepared, gauging it before opening her eyes and uttering her first words of the day.
"Too much honey today, granddaughter," Impa said with a kindly smile, "but a little sweetness is never bad for an old woman."
Paya nearly dropped the porcelain pot and cups, so startled was she at the unerring observation. Impa sighed. Her granddaughter should be used to her by now, but she was like a young doe — shy and swift to flight. Her soft brown eyes were wide with surprise, her white eyebrows causing unnecessary wrinkles among the red eye tattoo on her forehead.
Steadying herself, Paya finished her short journey from the stairs and around to face Impa, where she responded with downcast eyes, "I am sorry, Grandmother. I will do better tomorrow, I promise."
Raising a wrinkled hand, Impa gently took her granddaughter's chin and lifted it until Paya's gaze met her own.
"One day, granddaughter, you will find a man who does away with the need for courage to face the day," Impa said. "Until then, you must find that courage yourself."
Paya's eyes briefly brimmed with tears before she again looked toward the floor.
"I… I will try, Grandmother."
Impa nodded, knowing she could not hope for the girl to find a backbone in one night. Hylia send her a husband soon. Paya was pretty enough. Part of her snow-white hair — a trait shared by all the Sheikah — was tied in an elaborate bun atop her head. The rest fell below her shoulders, enhancing her already youthful appearance. She poured the tea with the gentleness and grace that would serve her well as the Woman of her house, but Sheikah women — even those who were not warriors — must also come ready with strength. Paya lacked that still, but Impa had faith that something or someone would help her find it.
Taking a sip of the tea — too sweet, as she had known — Impa once again closed her eyes. She heard her granddaughter leave through the front door, no doubt seeking something frivolous to do so as to take her mind off the seriousness of their brief conversation. Impa, however, mentally returned to the even more serious discourse with her soul.
She could feel the enemy gathering. A scout had confirmed her premonitions the previous week, returning with word of bokoblins massing in the Ash Swamp to the south. A blow, that, she thought. If trade between Kakariko village and Dueling Peaks Stable was cut off, there was little chance the Sheikah could sustain what little profit they had maintained since The Great Calamity. No other trader — or traveler for that matter — had taken the winding path between the Pillars of Levia and Bonooru's Stand in one hundred years, not even those from the still-intact Hateno Village. The Sheikah kept a secluded life for a reason, but no interaction at all with the outside world destroyed the very reason for which they existed.
Still, Impa mused, one force always rose to meet its opposite. If evil was indeed returning, good would soon appear to oppose it. It was on this she waited, hoping that these new bubbles of pestilence preceded their necessary cure.
And then, as Hylia so often arranged, fate revealed itself in the moment of Impa's search for it. Her aged and wrinkled eyes snapped open as she heard two pairs of feet race up the long, wooden track of stairs sloping upwards to her hut. It must be important, she thought, for them to make noise on foot like this. The Sheikah were a quiet people in general, but scouts were next to shadows.
The door burst open, revealing two white-haired males clad in the traditional Sheikah leggings and eye-painted tunics. The slippers on their feet and balaclavas over their mouths normally guaranteed stealth, but that had been cast aside in favor of haste, it seemed. Still, their news was not apocalyptic. The niceties could and would be observed.
"May Hylia bless you, little brothers," Impa intoned, but not unkindly. "You are welcome here."
Halted and momentarily embarrassed, the pair bowed, forming a perfect right angle with their bodies as they returned the traditional greeting.
"May Hylia bless you, Lady Impa," they said as one. "We thank you for welcoming us here."
Order restored, the two Sheikah straightened and stared straight ahead as was proper, waiting for their hostess to grant them the opportunity that was hers to give.
"I am unable to entertain you with food or drink at the moment, but you may share news if you have it," Impa said graciously.
The older of the two stepped forward, his curved straw hat barely concealing a still healthy amount of white hair. Sheikah rarely went bald, a fine quality for both sexes.
"I kept watch near the Peak of Awakening, Lady Impa," he said in strong, quiet voice. Impa briefly thought it a pity that Steen was too old for her granddaughter. "For a fortnight, I saw no one approach from Hateno Village, but several bands of bokoblins – and moblins with them – came from the east and settled in the woods between Ovli Plain and the village."
Impa nodded. So moblins were already gathering in numbers as well. Larger and far stronger than their bokoblin cousins, moblins were more likely to attack a village if they thought their numbers sufficient. Her Sheikah would have to return and provide aid. Hateno Village, like so many Hylian communities since The Calamity, lacked warriors to defend it.
Impa knew, however, that Steen had yet to divulge his most important piece of information. She nodded at him to continue.
"The day before I planned to leave, I heard and felt the ground shake," he said. "Marblod Plain trembled as though Hylia herself was stirring it. Then, from its tallest point, a tower rose from the ground. It stands higher than even Meda Mountain. I left immediately to give you word, Lady Impa," he concluded with another perfect bow.
"Was the tower blue or orange?" Impa asked.
Steen gave a start, clearly surprised that Impa had known to ask for such a detail.
"It… it was orange, Lady Impa. An orange light shone from its length and peak," Steen stammered.
Again, Impa nodded. As expected. No, whatever change had begun, it had not originated there.
"Thank you, Little Brother," Impa said warmly. "Your news is as welcome as yourself. Please stay until I am well with your parting."
Steen nodded and straightened himself, once again looking straight ahead. A pity indeed, Impa thought ruefully before turning to the younger scout.
"What news do you bring, Olkin?"
He was in the prime of life, Olkin, but married and thus unavailable for Paya's affections. Impa made a mental note to ask Hylia to bless her people with more children.
"I camped on the Sahasra Slope for a fortnight as you bid me, Lady Impa," Olkin reported. "Lizalfos fester in the Lanayru Wetlands to the north and Nabi Lake to the east. At this rate, the Wetland Stable will be surrounded and cut off from goods and travelers."
Impa shook her head. Unlike Hateno Village to the far east, that stable stood in the very shadow of Hyrule Castle. Granted, the Hylians that had built it had not witnessed The Calamity as she had, but their parents had. They should have known better. Still, she could not leave them to the fate they were sorely tempting.
"Tell the next scout to take a companion with him and that both should arm themselves well. They must keep the path south of the stable clear, all the way to the Riverside Stable, if necessary." That stable didn't sit quite as close to the castle as its Wetlands brother, but being on the castle side of the river compromised that. Hylians really were fools at times.
"It will be done, Lady Impa," Olkin replied with a bow. Then he straightened and continued after another patient nod from the ancient woman. "One day before I planned to leave, I, too, heard and felt a rumbling from the ground. This came from the northeast, where I saw a tower exactly as Steen described rise just beyond Boné Pond. It… it was also orange, Lady Impa," he added hesitantly.
Impa smiled and nodded, showing that he had done well to include this apparently relevant detail. Yes, that one would remain inactive for the time being as well. She closed her eyes as she formed her next course of action, noting with satisfaction the silence that emitted from her patient pair.
She must be careful. With the growing threat outside, Kakariko Village might start seeing more visitors than it was prepared to host. They could hardly turn away refugees if it came to that, but the village — its people and purpose — must be kept safe until its next role was played out.
Impa's dark brown eyes opened, though Steen and Olkin continued to stare straight ahead. Only when she addressed them again would they meet her gaze.
"I thank you and Hylia for the news you have brought me this day," Impa said, and she meant it. Her century-long wait was about to end. Now, finally, she could begin again. "You will relay these instructions to our people: no one is permitted to enter the village save one who carries a Sheikah Slate. All others are to be treated as Yiga. They may be attended to outside the village, but none are to set foot inside the gates of welcome."
The pair's eyes widened, but they did not interrupt. Once again, Impa mentally thanked Hylia for the sense of her people.
"When the one carrying the Sheikah Slate arrives, he is to be escorted to me with every kindness." That last was important. Hylia alone knew how the boy would react to the remotest hint of unwelcome. Impa would not see bloodshed when it was so avoidable and unnecessary. "You will relay this to everyone in the village, even the children."
Again, the slightest sign of surprise from her scouts, but they nodded, a sign that they were ready to obey further instructions should she have them. She did.
"You will ask Claree to craft a new set of Sheikah garments. They will be made to the specifications I shall deliver through my granddaughter on the morrow." Sheikah garments were rare. Only scouts and warriors wore them, and they were always received in ceremony. No current Sheikah was approaching his or her Day of Anointing, meaning that these were being made for the stranger with the Sheikah Slate. Surely he had to be Sheikah?
No, Impa thought with an inward smile. No he is not.
"Lastly," she added, "you will retrieve a chest that resides in the cellar below my abode. You will bring it here and set it beside where I sit now. You will leave it there, as locked as when you find it.
"I thank you and Hylia for your coming," Impa finished with warm finality. "I am well with your parting."
One last, perfect bow from the Sheikah men and they were gone, swiftly setting about the tasks assigned to them. They were a credit to her people. Impa prayed they lived long enough to know that before the end.