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Chapter 11: Tension Burning High
If Hyrule Castle's exterior wasn't enough to make Annabeth drool, the interior certainly was. Lengthy halls boasted blood-red carpets, the stone walls lined with intricately designed sconces. The gapping windows were shuttered by glass panes and polished wood. Hanging from every room was at least one chandelier, dripping riches and light.
The library outshone every fine room Princess Zelda had shown her. Tall, thick shelves were filed in the cavernous room, like soldiers in formation. Above them sprawled a constellation of ribbed vaults (thank you, Fine Arts Survey class), supported by broad stone columns. Books and documents were draped over every table, desk, and podium. It was a feast of literature, laden out for Annabeth's hungry mind.
Zelda snorted beside her; gods, Annabeth had forgotten she was there. "I see you like the library."
She tried to preserve some respect, but it was admittedly very challenging. She wanted to lock herself in the library and never come out again.
"A lot," she managed to say.
"As you can see, you're not the only fan." The princess tilted her chin towards the people milling through the shelves. "Ever since this storm picked up, many of the castle residents are left without much to occupy themselves. You might have to wrestle a book from someone."
"Oh, I can deal with that."
They descended one set of stairs. (That's right; there were two sets of stairs. If Annabeth ever redesigned Olympus's archive. . . .) Above the last steps, the ceiling was parted for a glass skylight, like an open wound. Annabeth was about to ask about it when she remembered the wings in Castle Town's fountain. Perhaps the skylight was also a patch . . . ?
"What happened to this place?" she asked.
Zelda grinned as she rounded the end of the banister. "I have just the book for that. Follow me."
The princess weaved past shelves and library-goers, Annabeth in hot pursuit. She wanted nothing more than to comb through the library book-by-book, but Zelda made her book seem like the most important thing in the world. Annabeth found herself consumed with curiosity.
Finally, she stopped at a tall shelf at the opposite end of the room. Zelda reached up far above her head, groping blindly, and pulled out a dark blue book. She reverently lowered it into Annabeth's hands. A golden print of the Triforce gleamed on the cover, just above the title: HYRULE ENCYCLOPEDIA.
"Everything there is to know about Hyrule is in this book," Zelda said, tapping her finger on the spine. "Our races, our history, our culture—every last bit of my kingdom is printed on these pages. A new edition is released every decade."
Honestly, Annabeth was speechless. She couldn't remember the last time she found a recent encyclopedia in a library. All her shock allowed her was a grateful nod.
The princess was practically glowing with joy. "I thought you would like it! Considering the task ahead of you, you're going to need as much information about Hyrule as you can get."
Annabeth held it tightly to her chest, nearly embracing it. "Thank you."
"You're welcome to return here anytime," Zelda offered, "but I'm going to have to cut this visit short for now. There's just so much more to see in the castle, and I regret to inform you that we don't have much time. Even now, I should be working."
Annabeth had been so caught up in her excitement that she forgot exactly what she was giving her the encyclopedia for: advising. And whether or not Zelda befriended her today, the princess was just that—a princess. She had a duty to her country and people that far outweighed showing a starry-eyed girl her castle.
She took a deep breath, though her grip on the book's spine did not loosen. "Of course. Lead the way."
xxx
They were both quiet as they made their way up a steep path—towards the dining room, Zelda told her. Clearly, the princess had her own things to worry about between their silence.
Percy, Annabeth thought, her heart puttering against the book in her arms. She almost felt remorseful for threatening Zelda, but the fact remained that Percy was always her priority.
Annabeth soothed her hand over the shawl tied around her waist. She had gotten it for the both of them; he probably wouldn't wear it, but he would certainly like it on her. Besides, she wanted to have some kind of keepsake from Hyrule. Most of the souvenirs from their quests were procured out of desperation, so it was nice to have something she bought.
Yes, she had no reason to worry; she would find Percy. And he knew he could depend on her.
They were just about to turn the corner at the end of the hall when Zelda suddenly reeled backwards. Her expression was as hard as steel as she gently grabbed Annabeth's elbow, pulling her towards a random doorway.
"What's wrong?" Annabeth whispered. She had never seen the princess like this before.
Aggravation permeated her brow. "We should take a different route."
"Um—"
Two voices emanated from the end of the hallway. They were too quiet for Annabeth to make sense of what they were saying, but she could at least figure that they were men. As they grew louder, closer, Zelda halted, her quest for the door abandoned.
"It's no use," she muttered. "I'm sorry, Annabeth. We're about to be in bad company. How good are you at improvising?"
"Phenomenal."
She sighed, relieved. "Then this shouldn't be a total disaster."
Disaster? Then Annabeth saw two men round the corner, and she immediately understood what Zelda meant.
She had never seen any two people with more punchable faces than those of the pair, who might have been father and son. The father, who was barely an inch taller than her, was wearing an intricate monocle over one of his small, beady eyes. His suit . . . was a lot, to say the very least. It looked like something Malo would keep in his stockroom, right next to one of his overly extravagant horse carriages.
The son was equally frivolous with his attire, though Annabeth was more concerned with his face. He wasn't ugly, but his expression was so self-assured that she imagined that he wouldn't care either way. Besides his bothersome expression, he had a terrible mustache, which was so long and thin he might as well have had catfish whiskers. If not for Zelda's cold expression, Annabeth might have laughed.
"Princess!" the older man remarked, his eyebrows climbing towards his hairline (they would never reach it). He almost looked afraid, like he was caught stealing. "I did not expect to see you here."
"Or with company," his son said. His tone was pleasant, but criticism hung in the air; either Zelda should not have guests, or she was always alone. Either way, Annabeth's presence was an amusing surprise.
"This is Annabeth Chase, and you should give her proper greetings before you speak of me," Zelda said firmly. Then to her, in a much gentler tone: "This older gentlemen is Sir Orenfi; he is one of my councilmen." She said my councilmen the way one would say my chronic disease. "And this is Thureb of the Barba family."
Thureb has no occupation, Annabeth noted. And Orenfi is not his father.
"You may call me Lord Barba, Lady Chase," he said. Annabeth wanted her name out of his mouth.
"Sir Barba," Zelda corrected.
Something flashed in his eyes, and emotion that made Annabeth stand ready. He wanted to hurt her, that much was clear.
Not in her own castle, she assured herself. He's not that stupid. Then her gaze dropped down to his mustache again, and she became doubtful.
"What are you doing so far away from your study, anyway? What could be more important right now than handling our country?" Thureb asked with mock curiosity; Orenfi stifled a chuckle.
"When you take care of your garrison you may ask me about my country." Zelda folded her hands neatly in front of her. "Do you forget yourself?"
He acted startled—almost abashed, though it was hardly genuine. "My apologies, Your Highness. But you are mistaken; I am here on behalf of my garrison. Sir Orenfi here has invited me to the next council meeting." He nodded towards the man. "I wanted to ensure that my people will be cared for during the storm, though considering what hospitality I have already received in the castle, I'm not so sure that I want them here."
Zelda visibly bristled; Annabeth noticed one of her fingers twitch, just the way hers did when she wanted a weapon. She wondered if this is how most people in the castle spoke to her. If so, Annabeth couldn't let that stand.
"Where did you learn your manners?" Annabeth asked.
He frowned. "I'm sorry?"
"You should be. I've never had such a humble and considerate patron in all my years" — other than Chiron, this was true — "and yet you have the audacity to insult her in her own castle. It's shameful."
"And what right do you have to speak to Sir Barba that way?" Orenfi asked.
Gratitude swirled in Zelda's green eyes, though she kept her steely exterior for their company. Annabeth thought she sensed something else about the princess. . . . Sadness.
"She has every right," Zelda argued calmly. "Now that Chief Himeyuri has been gone for two weeks, I thought that a substitute would serve nicely in the meantime. Lady Chase has already proven to be an excellent choice."
Sir Orenfi's jaw fell open. "You—"
"This is an outrage!" Barba fussed. "Appointing an advisor without consulting your council—"
"—is well within my rights as the Crowned Princess." Her eyes flashed challengingly. "But you wouldn't know that, Barba, given that you have no real affiliation with the council."
He must have had some sense of self preservation, for when he next spat his poison, it was at Annabeth.
"You can't seriously be qualified for this," he growled. "You're a human, right? Your cloth does not hide your ears."
"Human?" Sir Orenfi adjusted his monocle, leaning in uncomfortably close; Annabeth suppressed the urge to shove him away. "By the goddesses, you're right! What has gotten into you, trying to advise our nation?"
Annabeth stepped forward so quickly, Sir Orenfi nearly fell pulling away from her. She pulled her camp necklace out from underneath her collar. The light from the sconces reflected off of all nine of her beads, along with her father's college ring.
"Each of these beads is a year of service," she explained. "I have been a lead strategist for my people for nine years now — more than half of my life. Do you understand?"
Orenfi blinked, unsure. He glanced at Thureb, who was busy glowering at one part of her necklace — her coral pendant, the one Percy gave her when they started dating. Maybe he had a thing against coral?
To her surprise, he smiled. "My apologies. I should not have doubted you."
"Barba." Orenfi clapped him on the shoulder. "I was going to show you some documents, remember? They'll be most important to the council meeting."
"Yes, of course."
Orenfi bowed his head slightly. "Farewell, Your Highness."
Zelda only gave him a nod of acknowledgement as the two hastened away, their tails between their legs. Just before they disappeared through a door, however, Barba stopped. He looked Annabeth up and down, then left with a quiet scoff.
Annabeth placed her hand on Zelda's spaulder (shoulder armor). "Are you alright? They—"
"We shouldn't discuss them here." With a shaky breath, she sat up a little straighter. "Now, what do you say we skip the dining hall for now? We can speak in my chambers."
As soon as she returned home, Malon threw her cloak at the hanger by the door. It fell to the ground with a wet smack, right next to her dripping boots. Talon, who was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, sipping his afternoon tea, raised one of his bushy eyebrows as she stomped past him.
"Rough day in the market?" he asked.
An aggravated grunt was her only reply.
In her room, Malon carefully placed the case with her new bow on her bed before she dived into her drawer, digging for anything dry and warm. By the time she had changed, there was a decently sized puddle at her feet.
"Great," she muttered. Then she went to fetch a towel, blinking back tears as she did.
Malon wasn't sure why her parting with Annabeth Chase had left her so raw, but what she did know was that it had opened old wounds. The girl reminded her oddly of Link. Whenever she turned away to follow Presh, all Malon could see was Link leaving the ranch for the first time. That must have been . . . ten years ago? Nine? She should have been over it by now. At least, she thought she was. . . .
I need a distraction, she thought.
She stormed into the kitchen, again passing Ingo. It was when she began scooping up a cup of grain that he spoke again.
"Talon didn't milk the cows this morning," he said.
Malon felt her eye twitch. "You're kidding."
"Nope."
With a loud groan, she wrestled the bag back into the cabinet. Just her luck; the day she needs to bake something, burn something, her father didn't do his job. The lazy man was probably snoozing somewhere outside, too, ready to track mud and feathers all through the house come supper.
Ingo began gulping his tea down as she approached the door, only for her to wave him off.
"Have your break; I'll handle it," she told him. He sighed tiredly as she threw her drenched cloak back over herself.
She would handle it alright, but not without a few choice words. Out in the rain again, Malon muttered every complaint against her father that she could think of. The weather had been so calm that morning, yet here she was, fetching milk in the middle of a Din-damned tempest. She ought to lock him out of the house for the night. See how he likes being soaked to the bone!
A donkey's bray ripped through the ongoing torrent. Oh, great; he had probably fallen asleep in the stables again. The last time he did that, she and Ingo had to wrangle a young stallion from stomping him to dust. In true Talon-fashion, he slept through the whole thing—
Malon stopped in the middle of the pasture—a donkey? Their last donkey had passed away suddenly a few months ago; Ingo was still in the process of finding a new one.
She squinted hard, scoping her surroundings. It was only three in the afternoon, but the clouds darkened the landscape so severely that dusk was brighter.
The donkey brayed again; Malon whipped her head to the right. There it was — about seventy yards away, a pack piled onto its back. Wait, didn't the Sheikah dress their pack donkey's like that? So why was it alone—?
Then Malon saw her — a little girl leading the donkey by the reins.
"HEY!" she shouted, hiking up her skirts as she jogged towards her. "Little girl!"
She froze where she stood, turning towards Malon with her eyes wide. As she got closer, she noticed more and more about the girl. She wore Sheikah clothing, though Malon had never seen a child like her lugging around a hat half her size. For a startling moment, she thought the girl's eyes were bleeding; thankfully, it was just smeared makeup.
The girl readjusted her hat. "I'm sorry, am I on your land? I'm just passing through."
"What? No, no." Malon took a moment to catch your breath. "Honey, what are you doing in the rain by yourself? Are you alright?"
"Um. . . ." She looked around, as if suddenly realizing that it was raining. Her grip on her donkey's reins tightened. "I'm, um, traveling with my f-father."
Her donkey tugged at the reins and shook its head, as if disagreeing. Then it gave a hard shudder.
"Traveling or not, you two won't hold up well in this weather," Malon explained. "How about you come inside for some tea and snacks? I can have a stall set up for your friend here, too."
She smiled shakily. "His name's Mimi."
"And you are?"
". . . Impa."
"Well, Impa, I really must insist that you find some kind of shelter."
"I—"
Malon held up her hand. "You don't have to come inside, but I have an overhang that would suit you and Mimi just fine. How does that sound?"
Impa blushed. "Um, m-maybe tea would be better."
xxx
It was no use fetching the milk with two weary travelers behind her, so Malon elected to bake cookies instead of a cake. Impa sat at the kitchen table, a dry towel around her shoulders and a steaming mug between her hands. The tea was still too hot to drink, but holding it should have warmed her up a little. Malon used the rest of the brew in her cookies.
Malon looked over her shoulder as she whisked the eggs and sugar together, then glared when she caught her father's gaze. He had not been sleeping outside, which meant he was in the perfect condition to deep-clean the kitchen.
"You have cucco feathers on your clothes," Impa said quietly. "My mother likes cuccos."
Talon startled, then grinned. "Then she must be a wonderful lady! Only great people can truly appreciate cuccos."
Malon rolled her eyes; him and his birds. He left his cuccos free from want, their coop pristine, their feathers shiny, while Ingo and Malon broke young horses.
"Impa," she began, dumping a cup of flour into the mixing bowl, "are you and your mother from Hyrule Field?"
"Kakariko Village. She says it's in Lanayru Prob-ints."
Ingo cleared his throat from the stairs. "Province."
Malon shot him a glare. "You mentioned your father earlier. Is he from Kakariko too?"
Silence. Then, the quiet scraping of a full mug across wood.
"Impa?"
The little girl's face was bright tomato-red, her grip on the mug vice-like. She seemed awfully interested in the floor.
"I lied," she admitted. "T-that's what I'm s'posed to tell strangers on the road." Unshed tears weighed on her lower eyelid. "Mimi and I are by ourselves."
As she rolled the dough between her hands, Malon wondered about the little girl. All alone, in the rain, with nothing but a pack donkey to make her way through to . . . where, exactly? What kind of fool sent a child by herself into the Hyrulean wilderness?
Then Talon caught her gaze, and her anger froze over. She couldn't just ask Impa these things; she needed trust, needed safety. Interrogating her about her circumstances would be just as cruel.
She slid the pan into the oven. "That's awfully smart of you. These days, everyone on the road could be dangerous. Scary, too, I'm sure. Your momma has a smart girl."
Impa scowled, wiping her eyes on the tablecloth. "That's why I'm doing it. She's been gone for two weeks."
Malon froze where she stood. Two weeks? Link last visited two weeks ago, just before the weather soured. He had told her something about an advisor at the castle, a Sheikah woman. . . . No, not just any advisor.
"Your mother is Chief Himeyuri?" she blurted out. Then she remembered who she was speaking to. "Everyone in Kakariko Village must miss her an awful lot."
Impa slipped her massive hat off, which must have weighed ten pounds, if not more. Her pale hair was tied into two buns on either side of her head.
"My nanny doesn't," she said bitterly, glaring at the hat. "She tried to tell everyone that I would be chief. Like, now."
Malon glanced at her father, who was looking at her rather pointedly, his eyes as big as saucers. Lazy as he was, at least he never made her take care of a whole village.
"That's terrible," she breathed.
Impa looked up at her. For some reason, Malon hadn't noticed until then that she was missing one of her front teeth. It must have been her first. "My nanny's real mean to me."
She slowly sank into the chair beside her. "Really?"
"She doesn't let me eat tasty things, or have fun." She pursed her lips. "I study a lot, too."
"What do you study?"
"Writing. Fighting. I'm not good at math."
Impa took a sip of her tea, swishing it around in her mouth before taking another sip. Satisfactory, apparently. For good measure, Malon pushed the sugar towards her.
"Impa," she murmured, "is your nanny the reason why you're out here by yourself? Is she making you look for your mother?"
She shrugged. "I guess. . . . She wanted me to fight some monsters outside the village, so Tenji-san gave me a map and told me where to go." Her expression brightened a little. "Then I can take her home and she can be chief again."
DING!
Malon nearly flinched out of her skin. Impa, on the other hand, stared hungrily at the oven. Right; the poor girl was probably starving.
They could worry about that later, though. Malon needed to focus on keeping this little girl safe and fed for the time being — the night, too, if she wanted to stay. And what of tomorrow? She couldn't just send her out alone again. Not without an escort.
Goddesses, this would be much easier with Link there. But if it meant keeping Impa safe. . . .
Malon turned away from the oven, where her father was retrieving the cookies. "Have you ever been to Hyrule Castle?"
The sconces on Zelda's bedroom walls cast a golden glow around her, the light sparking against her rattling balcony doors. The clouds twisted outside, battling with weapons of lightning and rain. Shadows rolled across Hyrule Field; they swallowed the forests, the villages.
She sighed as she forced her gaze away from her window. Things would be easier now; she had an advisor and a friend in Annabeth.
Even so, her letter to General Cheinman gave her grief. . .
"Everything okay out there?" Annabeth asked from behind a changing screen. Zelda was having her try on some of her clothes. It would make the council meeting easier, but not by much.
"Yes, sorry." She placed her quill down. "Actually, I was wondering if you were alright. After Barba, I mean."
Annabeth laughed. "Yeah. He's more annoying than anything. What's his problem?"
"Power," Zelda mused. "It's all about power with him. His father was in charge of Hyrule Garrison before he passed away—it's where we house many of our knights. He's been spending all of the garrison's funds like water."
"But of course."
"To make matters worse, he has little respect for women; rumor is that he's been imprisoning women at the garrison, only we have no proof at this point. Now that it's flooding, he's trying to break into our ally's territory for shelter."
"Can't you just fire— er, let him go?"
"He has too many friends; they alway rush to his side." Zelda grinned wickedly. "For now, that is. I'm handling him."
"Good, good." Annabeth pushed the screen away. "Ooh, I love this one."
It was a beautiful dress, woven with shining silver fabric. It seemed to suck the light from the room, nearly giving Annabeth an aura as she turned.
Zelda caught her smiling eyes in the mirror. "It really does look lovely on you. I'm just so glad that it's finally being worn!" She noticed Annabeth's curious expression. "It used to be my friend Leigh's. She moved out of the castle."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "If it's too valuable—"
"Oh no, Leigh would be thrilled to see it being put to good use." She tapped her chin. "Though, I think she would be upset if I didn't suggest silver jewelry as well. Oh, and hair pieces."
Annabeth hummed in consideration, throwing her braids around, clearly imagining them with finery dripping from them. It had been almost two years since Leigh left the castle to study silversmithing — goddesses, the last time Zelda saw her was at her father's funeral. Leigh stayed for a week, glued to her side, Link on the other, as the princess navigated the first of her duties. Then she packed up her things and returned to her studies, promising to write; Zelda had, too.
They hadn't exchanged a single letter since.
It wasn't either of their faults, really. They both had such busy lives — even two years in, Leigh was still an apprentice. And, of course, Zelda was carrying the kingdom that fell so suddenly in her young lap with her every hour, awake or not. It was a miracle in and of itself that the two even had that week together.
As Annabeth leaned forward, further teasing her hair, Zelda noticed that beaded necklace from earlier swinging from her neck. She was familiar with the fashion; it was the sort her knights liked to wear, consisting of small trinkets and trophies from their years of service. Annabeth's had several little beads, along with a gold ring and, oddly enough, a branch of coral no longer than her finger. If her words earlier hadn't convinced her of her experience, the necklace did; Annabeth was at the head of a war table since early childhood. And yet here she was, so calm and healthy in the face of a war-mongering prophecy. . . .
"Annabeth, will you be my friend?" Zelda blurted out before she could stop herself.
The girl straightened suddenly, her hair still in her hands. A mild frown formed on her lips.
Zelda felt her ears burn. "I'm sorry, that was—"
"What are you apologizing for?" Annabeth snorted. "You just caught me a little off guard. I mean, I already thought we were friends." She waved her skirt around. "I am literally borrowing clothes from you."
"Oh." The princess's blush still refused to cool. "How silly of me. You're right."
She laughed, clapping Zelda on the back. "Come on now, don't be ashamed. You know, you actually remind me of my friend Reyna. When I first met her, she instantly asked to be allies."
"And you were?"
"Actually, our friendship had a little bit of a rocky start—but that's not her fault, though." Her eyes widened. "Now that I think about it, you two are kind of similar. You have the same . . . air around you."
Zelda lowered her chin. "Is this a good thing?"
"Definitely. If you're anything like Reyna, then you're bound to be a good leader," Annabeth remarked.
The princess leaned down again, pretending to write her letter and hiding the ever-present blush on her face. She had so much trouble believing that she was doing anything right these days; her critics certainly did nothing to ease her worry. Link always made her feel better when she raised her doubts, but the fact remained that a mere glance at the mark on his hand left her heart empty. But now she had a new friend in Annabeth, and she didn't intend to lose her to doubt and suspicion.
She really hoped to meet this Reyna girl, too.
Piper felt the pain in her shoulder before she was really awake, and even then, the pain seemed to have radiated when she slept. She shut her eyes tighter, hoping that more slumber would dull the throb for a little longer. Unfortunately, the medic's hand tapped her fingers.
"Lady McLean, it's time to get up." She heard a small squeak on her opposite side. "Humayra, can you go get your mother for me?"
Piper dared a small peek, only to regret it when she did. The lighting in the infirmary was dim, but even that was enough to have Piper's eyes smarting. It took her blinking several times before she could stand to look at the medic.
That was perhaps cruel; her caretaker, named Leenar, was actually very easy on the eyes. She must have been in her mid to late forties, with slight lines on her round face. Leenar was different from the other Gerudo, both in dress and appearance; Piper supposed the former was for her status as a healer. She kept her red hair tied in the back, with a shawl of sorts keeping it out of the way. She had softness where her kinswomen had muscle, but this wasn't the only thing that set her apart. Instead of green eyes, hers were yellow as a cat's.
Leenar must have noticed Piper's fascination with her eyes (due in part to how pretty they were and also how out of it she was after her rest) as she helped her sit up, for she said, "You must have met my daughter, yes?"
Piper startled. "Er, no. Sorry."
"She's a few years older than you, I'm sure," she said fondly. "She's currently touring across the desert. She and I are nearly identical, only she's the most beautiful girl you'll ever see. Curly hair! In all my years, my girl's the only Gerudo I've seen with curls."
"One could even ask if she's really one of us," someone spat.
Standing in the doorway, flanked by two warriors, was a remarkably short woman. (Compared to the other Gerudo women, that is; she was still a head taller than Piper.) Her hair, a mottled red and of all colors pink ponytail, swept behind her. She was smiling, but it did little to hide how severe her features were. A weasel of a woman, Piper thought to herself.
Everyone in the infirmary seemed to hold their breath, save Leenar, who only smiled calmly. "Believe me, I remember bringing her into this world. On that note, what brings you here?"
"I'm checking on my soldiers, of course." The woman grinned wickedly in the direction of one in particular, who wore a thick cast over one of her arms. "Apparently, they don't know how to bear a little rain. I swear, some of them were born yesterday."
Her gaze wandered over several other warriors, suffering everything from sprained ankles to head colds, until she stopped at Piper. The woman's smile faltered for a moment, only to return even more unsettling than before.
"You must be the chief's guest." She narrowed her eyes. "Well?"
"Yes. I'm Piper McLean."
The woman chuckled, resting her hand on the scimitar on her belt. "You stand before the Captain of the Gerudo Army, Lady McLean. My name is Ishinaiya." She stepped up to her bedside, though still a good pace away. "Tell me, were you being honest when you said that you hadn't met a young Gerudo woman? Like her?"
"Yes." Out of spite, Piper kept Ishinaiya's title absent. She could see the cogs turning behind her smile. Whatever reason she was talking to Piper for, the girl was not fulfilling it.
Even so, she gave a small scoff of amusement. "No, I assumed not. If you had, you would surely be out for my blood."
"And just what are you implying?" Leenar asked, glaring.
"I am not speaking to you."
Before Piper could say something regrettable, a soldier came through the door. She approached Ishinaiya respectfully, but without fear. Her fellow soldiers dipped their heads as she passed.
"Captain," she said, her voice level, "the chief is on her way here now."
As soon as the words left her mouth, the door opened again, only this time it was a different kind of warrior; Chief Jayaka herself entered, her armor glistening.
"I'm glad that I can join you here while you're awake, Lady McLean," she said. Then, she glared pointedly at Ishinaiya. "Unless I am not welcome somewhere in my own town?"
"All are welcome here," Leenar said.
Ishinaiya merely hummed in response. She spared one last glare for her incapacitated soldiers, then departed. The new soldier followed closely behind her; to Piper's surprise, she seemed to be looking at her as she disappeared behind the door.
Really, Piper had seen less drama in a soap opera.
"What was her problem?" she asked, her voice cutting through the tense silence. It seemed to be the catalyst for a calmer environment; the intensity from the earlier exchange was quickly replaced with the quiet conversations from before.
"We don't have enough time to discuss that," Leenar murmured. "I'm afraid that your wound is more prudent. Chief?"
Piper winced as she pulled the bandages away, her keeping Piper's head angled so as to obscure the damage. Even so, she knew it was bad; if not from the pain, then Jayaka's bold silence.
"So . . . how bad is it?" she dared to ask.
Chief Jayaka pulled up a stool beside her; Leenar began to rewrap her shoulder, sparing the woman a cautionary glance.
"It's poisoning you," she said simply. "Have you ever heard of Malice?"
She shook her head. Piper knew the definition — hatred — but she had an eerie feeling that the chief meant something else.
"It's a sludge-like substance here in Hyrule. It's nasty stuff, really — a product of pure hatred."
Oh, then she wasn't that far off the mark. "You said it's poisoning me, right?" She felt her heart leap. "How do we stop it?"
"You need a more specialized healer." She nodded sympathetically at the other woman. "Lady Leenar may be skilled, but Malice is impossible to purge without light magic. In short, your only option is Princess Zelda, and soon."
She craned her head, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. "I already sent the princess a letter about you, and I feel like she would be more than understanding about treatment. The real problem is Hyrule Garrison." Chief Jayaka frowned. "That Barba will try to hold us up regardless of the situation. Now I'm never afraid of a fight, but I don't like the idea of turning my blade on Hyrulean knights. . . ."
Piper felt a pit forming in her stomach — whether from anxiety or the poison, she didn't know. She could almost feel the blight traveling through her blood, sifting through her heart. What flavor of demise would she face, anyway? Would the poisoning wane her life force, leaving her a husk of a thing with gray skin and brittle hair? Would her bowels burn and melt into acid, burning straight through her? Would her lungs suddenly refuse oxygen, turning her skin blue? And what's worse, who would find her corpse? Annabeth? Jason?
Leenar clasped her hand, bringing her back to reality. "Easy, my lady, easy. You're in safe hands, understand? I can help you."
It was all she could do to lean towards her, to meet her eyes.
"We can worry about getting you through Hyrule later; the weather's too sour to leave the desert, anyway." She leaned in closer. "I may not be your best option for a cure, but I can slow this. It will not be easy, but I can keep you alive. Will you let me?"
Piper squeezed her hand in return, swallowing her fright. "I'll do whatever it takes to survive this."
After less than a day in the desert rain, Reyna was sure that she never wanted to experience it ever again. She thought running for her life through the rain was terrible, but she soon found that trekking through it was far worse.
Water and simmered fruit (she now understood why Muhtal was so unenthusiastic about it; the stuff must get old fast) sloshed in her stomach as she followed the two, both bundled in their ragged cloaks. Despite their predicament, Reyna felt a tinge of sympathy at the sight of those frayed hems. Gahreen and Geela had stayed at home, believing that they were left to catch leaks for dry days. In reality, Dinaara and Muhtal wanted them out of harm's way.
Away from what was Reyna's question. They were moving away from the town, she knew that much, towards the bazaar again. But the silhouette of the inn came and went, until they were faced with the red mountains standing against the dark sky. At the foot of them stood seven great figures, all arranged into what Reyna could make out to be a circle.
"Here we are," Dinaara said at last. "The Seven Heroines."
"My ladies!" Muhtal added, jogging up to the base of one.
All seven statues were identical, save for the bits and pieces of them that had eroded over the years. Standing at the feet of one of them, staring up at her blank, regal face, Reyna was briefly reminded of the Athena Parthenos. These statues easily dwarfed the goddess of wisdom, but the resemblance was enough to possess her. It was so hard to believe that her, Nico, and Coach Hedge were holding their own with that goddess towering over them only three weeks ago.
"You said you were going to challenge me, right?" Reyna asked. If either of them asked her to lug one of those statues around, she would simply leave.
Dinaara nodded. "That's right. Muhtal, would you please?"
"PABUHL!" she yelled. (Reyna didn't know why Dinaara had to ask. The girl was clearly always happy to shout.) "SKRIFFER!"
Several yards away, at the center of the circle, the sand stirred. The wet clumps feel away around a rising mound—a boulder. That's what Reyna thought, until the boulder sat up and blinked at her.
The boulder man, who was easily nine feet tall, scrambled their way. "Thank the goddesses, you're here!"
Dinaara tried to look past him. "Where's Skriffer?"
"He's still down there," he cried, gesturing towards the hole he emerged from. "I think he's trapped."
"That idiot!" Muhtal shouted. Then she noticed Pabuhl's curious face. "Yeah, she's the one. Reyna."
He wiggled his fingers. "I'm Pabuhl."
Dinaara adjusted her cloak. "Reyna, you must have noticed the hole in the ground."
"Yes."
"Well, that's where your test begins." She sighed. "There's a maze of sorts underneath the Seven Heroines—and a valuable piece of treasure we need for the journey. Our friend Skriffer was supposed to find a way in and disarm or flag any traps."
Muhtal groaned knowingly. "I swear, he can never stick to a plan! He probably went to take it for himself."
"Most likely," Pabuhl agreed.
"If our sources are correct, the item we're looking for will be of serious use to not only us, but you," Dinaara continued. "If you ever decide to leave us, then you have my word that the treasure is yours to keep. But only if you get us out of the desert."
"And if you get Skriffer back alive," Muhtal added.
Dinaara fixed her with a fiery glare. "No, you are getting Skriffer."
"But—"
"He's your friend and your recruit for the troupe," she pointed out. "I'm not giving Reyna anything more to do. You handle your responsibilities."
"I guess I'll give that bundle of feathers the benefit of the doubt—thief to thief." She hugged Reyna's shoulders despite the demigod's hard glare. "'Ol Reyna and I got this covered, Din. You've got nothing to worry about."
This seemed to soften her anger. Even so, she kept her voice firm. "We'll get everything packed up for the journey. Can you meet us back at the hideout?"
"Anything for you!"
"Then it's settled. Pabuhl," Dinaara said, "we have a lot to pack up."
"Of course." He grinned at Reyna. "Good luck."
"Thanks."
Reyna waited until they were outside of the statue circle to shove Muhtal away from her. Unfortunately for her, the girl anticipated that; she managed to stumble instead of fall.
"First rule," Reyna said, glaring at her fake pout, "no touching."
xxx
Unlike the Wasteland Troupe's underground hide out, the maze was horribly flooded. The water came up well past Reyna's knees. If that wasn't bad enough, the maze had no lighting at all. She heard Muhtal smack into the walls several times. If they were back in Cali, Reyna would have been sure that some studio filmed a cheap horror movie there.
"Are you sure I can't hold your hand?" Muhtal asked, making sure to lay it on sweet.
"No."
"Please?"
"Stop talking."
"Rude." Then she gasped at the top of her lungs.
Instinctively, Reyna drew her dagger, ready to slash someone to ribbons. Instead, she watched as the vague form of her (annoying) charge splashed through the tunnel, then stopped to fish something out of the water.
Muhtal returned to her side, her prize in her hand. "Skriffer's been this way!"
The prize in question was a ragged feather, probably white before it was dunked in the nasty floodwater. Still, it was pale enough to make out in the dark.
Reyna squinted, making out several more trailing through the tunnel. If her eyes were anything to rely on, then they continued for a dozen yards before vanishing to the left, where the maze turned.
"I bet my ancestors didn't anticipate a storm rolling through Gerudo Desert," Muhtal wondered aloud, following the feather trail.
"Did the Gerudo build this?" Reyna asked. It was pretty obvious given that it was built under seven giant statues of Gerudo women, but she preferred Muhtal talking about history than whining.
"Duh," she answered appropriately. "They made it as a shrine to a great warrior thousands of years ago. She was a sage, too."
"Did they build your hideout, too?"
Muhtal flashed her a glare. "Absolutely not!"
"Then who did?"
"Our jailers." Muhtal rounded the tunnel's corner, exposing a lengthy span of feather-trailed water. "You see, we Gerudo have only been in the good graces of Hyrule for a few centuries. Before that, we were marked as seductresses and thieves. After Nabooru's time, they built a prison to punish the rest of us. They nearly wiped us out."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
She shrugged. "It's a good hiding place, at least. The soldiers are too disgusted by the place to come close. Even so, I'm glad to finally leave—"
"HELP!"
Muhtal was off again, only this time Reyna was leading with her dagger. The feathers were hard to keep track of with all the splashing, but they were quickly unneeded. As it would turn out, the howls reverberating off the walls made the maze much more navigable.
"Skriffer!" Muhtal called. "Stay where you are!"
She was met with more screaming. They rounded another corner, only this part of the maze was much different. Instead of monotonous sandstone walls, these were laid in brick and lined with rusty bars.
"I thought you said this place wasn't a prison!" Reyna accused.
"I never said that! This is probably where the traps set out intruders." She ran along the cages, peering in for the deafening shrieks. "Skriffer, where in the goddess's name are you?"
"Right here," a raspy voice murmured.
Standing in one of the cages was a man dressed as a bird—except it wasn't a costume, Reyna realized; he was a huge white bird. He wore a ragged cape over a worn cuirass, from which sprouted his big, feathered arms. His crown feathers stuck out in every direction, as if he had unsuccessfully tried plucking them. Even worse, his beak was cracking, which could not have been comfortable.
As strange as Reyna found the name Skriffer before, she suddenly found it very fitting. She had never heard the name, but she imagined anyone with it looked none too different.
"Muhtal," he whispered. He wrapped his fingers (wings?) around the bars tightly. "Muhtal, this is terrible—"
"What else did you expect?" She sighed like she was scolding a child. "Honestly, Skriffer, you should have thought this through before trying to steal something from a maze. I mean, you were here to deal with traps."
"No, no, no," he chattered, shaking several feathers off of his scalp. "You fool, I didn't steal anything! Just listen—"
"Yeah yeah, we'll get you out."
"Wait—"
Reyna's hand found a large lever next to the cage, just out of his arm's length. "This should get it open."
"Then, by all means—"
"STOP!" Skriffer threw himself away from the bars. If Reyna didn't have her hand on one, she would have sworn that he was electrocuted. "I put myself in here! You should do the same if you want to live to see tomorrow!"
Muhtal rolled her eyes. "Don't be dramatic."
As if on cue, another scream tore through the maze, and Reyna almost collapsed.
The scream tore through every nerve in her body, flash-freezing her bones. Her mouth cracked closed. She was suddenly aware of how cold she was. Next to her, Muhtal shuddered hard.
"Is it possible that anyone else is trapped down here?" Reyna asked. There must be other cages, right?
To her despair, Skriffer wrinkled the bridge of his, er, beak. "The entrance was sealed tight before Pabuhl and I pried it open."
"That's not a person." Muhtal's eyes were massive, darting towards the way they came. "I'd recognize that scream anywhere. We're being followed by ReDeads."
End of Chapter 11
When I tell you that this chapter was difficult, I mean it. I hit a block in every single POV.
On a better note, I have the next two chapters completely plotted out, so hopefully those'll go smoother! I've been really busy these past few months, so I wasn't able to get done nearly as much as I wanted to. Still, I have a better idea of where I want the fic to go.
Please try to follow my socials; I hope you all have a great day!
