Chapter 29: Among the Enemy
"Wake up, voe," a now all too familiar tap struck Link on the side of his head. His eyes opened to see the bleary dark-haired girl as she continued to tap him.
"You can stop, Barkan" Link said as he pushed her hand away. "I'm awake."
"Then get up. We got work to do."
Barkan was only about three or four years older than Link, if he had to guess. But she had already taken charge of many of the other camp followers. Or, more likely, she bossed others around and no one else cared enough to disagree with her.
Link grabbed his clothes and held them up with a sigh. He hated wearing them. The Gerudo had taken his tunic and replaced them with thin poorly fitting shirts and pants. Out of kindness, they said. And his clothes had been torn and ripped from the fight. And he was grateful that they found something for him without tears in it. But did it have to be these garments? Everything felt too loose or whispy for comfort. If anyone wore them in the woods, they would get tangled upon every bush or branch.
But then, there didn't seem much in the way of thick woods on the mountain. Link put on the clothes and then strapped on his sword and shield before heading outside the tent he shared with six other servants. It had been days in this camp, but he kept his equipment close. Who knows when he would need to start using them?
The sun peaked over the cliffs to the east, but Link turned his back to it. No need to think about sunrises when there was word to do. He followed Barkan to the wagons and helped her cut up onions and pieces of salted pork. While others chopped a strange green-brown vegetable stalk and fruits that Link had never seen before.
When the faeries told their stories about the horrors of war, Link had always just thought about the soldiers and knights marching off to kill each other. He did not really think about everyone that came with them. As it turned out, so many people marched along with the army, only about half were soldiers. The rest prepared meals, handled the horses, sewed, cleaned, practically anything that needed to be done that wasn't fighting.
And more of these people joined as they marched. Hylian girls from nearby villages that fled from home to join the warrior women of the desert. Young boys who just wanted an adventure. Merchants peddling at whoever came close to them. And men. A large amount of young men. Most of whom never gave Link a reason to follow the army, only passing knowing smiles between themselves whenever Link asked.
Their secrets and smug looks didn't bother him. Most the Gerudo didn't speak Hylian, so each that joined the army along the way meant someone new Link could understand.
He still tried with the Gerudo, by listening and copying, but it was hard. They all spoke so fast. A few times he'd speak to them in their language, simple things like 'hello' which as far as he could tell had at least three different words 'sav'otta,' 'sav'aaq,' and 'sav'saaba.' He wasn't entirely certain how they differed. But most the Gerudo found his attempts to decipher their tongue amusing. They were friendly, servants and warriors alike. That was most surprising of all. They were nothing like the ravenous violent monsters he feared.
Well, except one.
Once Link finished with the onions and pork, he walked it over to the fires where other workers had set several pots to boil. He dumped the food into the pot and then went back to cut more. He went back and forth, cutting ingredients and dumping them until every pot was full and cooking.
When he finished all that was laid out for him, and he made certain there was nothing to do until it was all cooked he went wandering through the camp looking for Barkan. He found her gathering bowls for the soldiers. "Barkan, you need help?"
The older girl gave him a withering glare. "I can do this myself." She went from wagon to tent, getting each bowl she could and stacking them ever higher, until Link worried they would topple over. "You're following me."
"You sure you don't want help?"
"No. What do you want?"
Link pulled at his shirt. "Any chance you could tell me when I can get my clothes back?"
"Look, voe," Barkan emphasized that word. "I don't have time to just fix your clothing. There's a lot that still needs to be done."
"You keep calling me, voe," Link said.
"'Cause you're a voe."
"But only the Gerudo say 'voe.'"
"And?"
"And… you're not a Gerudo," Link said. "You don't look like them. You have brown hair, and you're not nearly as tall as-"
"I'm still more of a Gerudo than you'll ever be," the girl hissed. "If you're going to keep bothering me, here," she took four bowls and shoved them into Link's hands. "Go fill these up and make certain the warriors get their morning meals."
Link sighed, if he had a needle and thread, he could have fixed his clothing already. But he knew better than to cause any fuss about it. He took the bowls, got them filled with the sludgy soup and balanced them along his arms before walked to the front of the camps as the warriors came out of their tents. He made certain not to spill any of them as he went. He dropped one the first day, and Barkan had given him an earful.
The sun sat high now, though the mountain peaks covered much of it. He'd managed to miss the entire sunrise and hadn't thought of her once. And that realization sent him back to memories of Navi and him sitting atop Lon Lon Ranch or sitting beneath the stars. He frowned and tried to focus on the task at hand. Four bowls, two arms, and he mustn't spill a drop.
One of the larger tents opened and the fiercest looking of the warrior women walked out of it. Bethmasse, they called her, the Dread Spear. The one put in charge when the leader of the army left a few days back to visit their master, the murderer.
"Sav-uhhm, sav'saaba," Link said.
The big woman smiled down to him and shook her head. "You still with us, voe?"
"Yes, Commander Bethmasse," Link said as he handed her one of the bowls. "Commander Nabooru told me not to leave. She said the road wouldn't be safe to travel alone."
"That I did," the leader of the Gerudo vanguard followed out of the tent and stretched, before taking a bowl for herself.
"Think you not listen," Bethmasse grumbled before she slurped down the stew. "You have look about you."
"What look?"
"That you're about as likely to run off in the middle of the night," Commander Nabooru said as she took a sip, then made a face. "Too much onion."
"Or stab someone," Bethmasse said as she tipped the last of her bowl into her mouth, then turned to Nabooru and spoke in Gerudo.
"I said I didn't like it, not I wouldn't eat it. Go get more yourself if you're still hungry."
Link felt his face grow hot. "I wouldn't stab anyone."
Bethmasse frowned. "Then why wear sword?"
"Quit teasing the child," yawned Mulli, the kind one, as she and the quiet one whose name Link never caught left the tent. "Thank you, Link," she smiled and picked up the last two bowls, handing the other to her silent friend.
The four ate their hot soup, talking to each other in their own language between their slurps. Link listened intently, catching a few words, he thought one meant 'good enough' that seemed to make sense. And Mulli told a joke, he didn't understand any of it, but it made the other three laugh. Well, Nabooru and Bethmasse laughed, the quiet one just smiled.
"Anything else you want, voe?" Nabooru asked when she noticed that Link hadn't yet moved.
"I just wondered, are we – are we moving today? Finally?"
"Children should learn patience," Nabooru said.
"A good lesson," Mulli nodded. "Only, I'm not certain you're the best one to teach it."
Nabooru gave her a dramatic scowl before she broke into a grin. "You should be happy today, voe. Go get yourself your own meal, then make yourself useful and take down the tents. We're leaving."
"Yes commander, thank you commander." Link turned away. Then stopped, turned back around and tried to copy the salute the Gerudo warriors gave to each other. Which only made the four of them laugh.
"Go, voe," Nabooru said. "Before you embarrass yourself."
Link rushed back to the cooks, telling the other servants as he passed that they were finally moving out. Most of them greeted the idea with sighs or grumbles. But some, including Barkan gave gleeful cheers. "Finally," she said. "let's see an actual battle."
While the servants took down the tents, the warriors trained. The same as they had every morning. It made sense, Link supposed. They needed to keep their skills sharp if they were going to go out and fight on the battlefield. But it didn't feel fair to Link as he pulled up the pegs of tents and folded them up while others were having fun playing with weapons.
They took down three tents before Link got close enough to watch them out of the corner of his eye. Their leader was the best of the lot, as far as he could tell. She did not seem to fight, she just flowed around whoever she was training against. And at the perfect moment her weapon would lash out and crack her opponent across an arm or against their helmets.
He had watched them fight every morning he could, with sword and spear, or practicing aiming with their bows.
"Hurry up," Barkan nudged him to keep his focus on his work.
"Sorry," Link mumbled as he returned to untying the ropes from the tent spikes.
When he got the last of them untied and pulled the spikes from the ground he stepped back as some of the bigger workers took the canopy down from the wooden frames.
"You have to pay attention," Barkan was saying. "You keep looking over at them you're going to mess up and slow all of us down."
Before Link had a chance to respond, one of the warriors called. "You, little voe! With little sword!" The big one, Commander Bethmasse beckoned for him to come over to her.
"See?" Barkan leered. "See? I told you, now they're going to thrash you raw."
"I didn't do anything," Link muttered. So what if he was a little slow untying some knots? It wasn't as if the warriors were anywhere near finished training. He hadn't slowed down the whole army. Had he?
"Come," the big warrior said again with a tone that told Link she would not ask for him a third time.
Link went to her, his hand on the pommel of his sword. Could he fight his way out, if it became necessary? "Yes?" His voice squeaked. Making him frown. Whatever happened it wouldn't do to be afraid. Not in front of these people. Whatever the big warrior wanted of him, he'd face it. Alone.
"You watch us fight." The big woman said, her voice thick with the Gerudo accent.
"Yes." Was this not about how he was working with the tents? "Did I do something wrong?"
"No," the big woman shook her head. "It is good. One must watch to learn the ways of war." She took her long training spear and tapped at the sheathed blade at Link's side. "So you know to use."
"I do know how to use it," Link unsheathed the blade and batted aside the spear before holding it out in front of him. "I've already fought Lizalfos and a giant- and a monster. I know what I'm doing."
"Hmm," Bethmasse stepped away from him and lifted the spear until its padded tip pointed between his eyes. "Prove."
"Bethe!" came Nabooru shaking her head. The two of them engaged in a lengthy discussion in their language that Link couldn't follow. He looked back at the servants and noticed Barkan staring at him. Her arms folded, waiting to see what punishment he would get.
"Why not let him?" Bethmasse said, switching back to Hylian.
"Because he is a child."
"So I when my mother handed me a spear. So you and our king. The boy reminds me of guard. The one Gan," then she frowned and started to speak again in Gerudo apparently given up trying to convey her thoughts in Hylian. There was one word he caught, though. Ganondorf. She repeated his name twice. It felt wrong that she was invoking his name in front of him at all.
But whatever she said, it seemed to work on Nabooru. The commander threw her hands up and stomped away.
Bethmasse looked back down on Link and smiled. "Let us see how you fair." She moved a few paces away from Link. "No lie. Tell me true, voe. You know sword?"
"I wasn't lying. I've fought monsters with it."
"Good," Bethmasse lowered her practice spear precisely where it had been before, pointed right between his eyes. "So have I."
Link prepared his shield and held his sword out. His opponent didn't move, her spear so still she could have been a statue.
Silently, he ran toward the woman, raising his shield high as he did. The spear thrust toward him. He twisted away from it and let the point brush past his shoulder. Another step, then another. He was almost within reach!
The pole of the spear hit him on the side of the head. He stumbled and fell to his knees.
"No." Bethmasse said.
"That's not how you spar, voe." Nabooru called. "Show your partner some respect first."
Link shook his head, it hurt. He touched the side the spear struck him, then looked at his fingers. He wasn't bleeding, but the woman had cracked him good. When he got back to his feet, the world wobbled for a moment.
The big woman stepped away from him, then pointed her spear once more at Link before she raised it high, until her hand was level with her mouth and the spear was pointed directly toward the sky. Was that a sign to start the fight? Like the two knights performed to each other at the Sun Festival.
"You're using a knights sword… sort of," Nabooru said. "So do the knight's salute. Lift your sword up, that's right point it to the sky." Link followed her instructions trying to remember exactly what the knights had done. "A little higher, so the crossguard is just under your eyes."
He lifted the sword further, until his guard covered the lower half of Bethmasse.
"Good, now sweep the blade to your- ahh, you're left-handed. Sweep the sword down your left side until the point is lowered to the ground."
Link slashed the sword down; it didn't quite feel natural. He tried again. Still not perfect. Off to the side, Mulli mimed the exact action, stretching out her arm for him to see the correct position. When he tried again, she winked at him.
"There we go," Nabooru called. "Now you can begin."
Link advanced toward Bethmasse, he kept his shield up, matching the angle where the spear pointed.
"When facing a new opponent, you have to make a quick decision," Nabooru said. "Are they weak enough for you to run down? Then attack quick, attack deadly. Are they stronger? Then you must give way. Draw them out, take advantage where you can. Are they both? Then you must be better."
"I am stronger, and more skilled," Bethmasse said. "If wondering."
"I know!" Link edged himself forward. He knew what he was doing. He'd faced down three Lizalfos alone… mostly alone. How much more difficult could one woman be?
Bethmasse took one large step back to keep the distance between herself and Link. Her legs were so much longer than Link's, even walking backward it would take two or three of his steps to match one of hers. But while he puzzled this problem, the practice spear drooped low, very low. As if she was trying to aim at his feet.
He lowered his shield, seeing if he could make the angle still work, stooping over to make it so the shield protected his legs. But then his head was exposed. No, this couldn't be right.
But before he could figure out how to fix this, Bethmasse pushed the back of the spear down, which swung the point high, right back at his head. He tried to wrench up his shield. But as hunched over as he was it was too slow.
The spear hurtled toward him.
And stopped a finger's width from his nose.
His shield finally came up and bashed the spear away.
"That is trap," Bethmasse said.
"I know," Link muttered.
"Being active with your shield is good," Nabooru said. "Whoever taught you knew what they were about. But you can't twist your body up. For the parts of your body that are too far away to protect with the shield you'll have to trust your ability to move aside or back. Bethe, do that move again. This time don't lower your shield down all the way. Stay straight, and when she thrusts at your legs. Notice how long it takes to make that spear move the whole distance. Bethe?"
The big woman pulled back the spear and angled it toward Link's feet.
"I see," he said as he put his shield back into position. He held it around his middle, hoping that was roughly where the woman wanted him to hold it. Bethmasse thrust the spear, and immediately he knew what Nabooru had been talking about.
Like everyone else, Bethmasse's arms were high on her body. That meant her weapons could attack high, easy, and fast. She could strike toward his head or thrust at his torso as quick as lightning. But aiming toward his feet? As long as he wasn't panicking about the attack, it wasn't particularly hard just to move his feet out of the way.
"That is risk attack," Bethmasse said. "Not only is it slow, but here. Step toward me."
Link did as he was told.
"My spear down, but, what the words, Nabs?"
"You're too close now for her to reposition her spear up." As Nabooru said, Bethmasse wiggled her spear and it knocked harmlessly against the edge of his shield and bounced away. "She can't get a good hit on you until she brings her spear back."
Bethmasse repositioned her spear back down. Then made a large show of pulling her arm back and raising the spear until it pointed toward Link's head. "All this time. I weak."
And that was how it went, until the tents were packed, and the warriors were finished with their drills. Only once did Link even land a hit on Bethmasse, and he had the distinct impression she let him hit her. Nabooru called for the spar to finish, she walked up to Link and ruffled his hair.
"You're not bad, voe," she said. "Sometimes your footwork gets away from you."
"You must learn," Bethmasse added, "when to strike, when to defend, and when to give ground. We will go over tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Link's eyes widened. This was going to be more than one morning's entertainment? "Yes. I'll be there. Thank you!"
She gave him a nod then headed to her horses with the Nabooru and the rest. Link returned to the other servants with a wide grin.
"Have fun?" Barkan said, her arms folded. She did not look particularly happy.
"Yes?"
"Get to the carts, voe. You're going to set all of them, and you're not to stop until I tell you."
The sun still sat high in the sky when the caravan stopped. This was a bit unusual, for the last few weeks they had not stop until an hour before the sun set. Giving the camp followers just enough time to pitch tents and start fires while the warriors arranged the wagons and built the encircling woodwork.
"What's going on?" Link asked.
"How should I know?" Barkan snapped. Her mood had not improved over their days of travel. As far as Link could tell, she made no attempt to fix his clothes in that time. And he may not be smart, but he knew enough not to bother her about it.
"Do you think we're there?" They'd travel well up the mountain. Not yet to the summit, but still higher than Link had ever been. They'd taken a winding road, much easier for the horses and wagons to travel across. Avoiding all the steep points that would have been fun to climb. But Link couldn't complain, as much as he would like to test himself against the stones, the caravan would be safer.
"Again. How should I know?"
"Fine, I get it." Link stood up and jumped off the cart.
"Hey," Barkan shouted after him. "Where are you going?"
Link raced around the wagons and horses toward the front of the vanguard. Swerving around the servants and even a few of the warriors that had fallen back to mingle with the camp followers. He tried his best not to disturb their conversations or games or little duties. By the time he reached the front of the army, he was winded.
"Careful," Bethmasse said to him as he reached her horse. "Don't get…" she paused and looked to the sky as she often did when she searched for a Hylian word. "Horse-stepped on." She concluded.
"Trampled," Link said. "And I won't, sarqso."
He peered around her warhorse at a grand entrance carved out of the side of the mountain. Before it stood a line of Gorons all holding massive cudgels and blades far too large for any Hylian to wield.
Commander Nabooru rode out ahead of the rest of her host, in full regalia of armor. Her bow along her back, arrows in a bag hanging by her legs, a spear in hand and a sword at her hip. "Is this who we have to greet us? A row of rock and weapons?" She called to the crowd of Gorons. "I'll admit, I'm usually bored with the celebrations the Hylians throw, but this is a bit aggressive, don't you think?"
From beneath the mountain a drum sounded. Then another followed it and another. The sound swelled, the entrance to the tunnels funneling the beat toward Link and the Gerudo. It grew louder and louder, until Link had to cover his ears and clench his teeth to keep them from rattling. Some of the Gerudo did as well, but Nabooru sat on her horse. Taking a moment to spit off to her side and looking bored.
The Gorons parted and one of them marched out from the shadows with a dozen drummers following him. Big and muscled, his arms were near as thick as a horse, but there was a wary sagginess to him, as if age was bringing the proud man low. Some of the other Gorons had small tufts of hair around their ears or on their chin, but this one had thick white hair in pointed spikes that made a circle from his chin to the top of his head.
He stopped before Nabooru and the drums behind him made one last rolling beat which echoed across the mountain. Link looked around him, to see the warriors were starting to take their hands off their ears before he joined them. He heard a ringing that took a moment before it went away.
"Chief Darunia," Nabooru said as she stuck her pinky into one of her ears and wiggled it around. "It has been a time."
So this was the leader of the Gorons. Zelda had mentioned him as a potential ally. He wanted to rush out at this very moment to tell him about Ganondorf and his plans. No, that's stupid. I can't be stupid. How would it look if he did that with nothing for proof? He lost Zelda's letter. That was exactly the kind of thinking that made Navi leave him. He would need to be smart, to be patient, until he could convince the Goron Chief of the Gerudo lies.
"Nabooru, Arrow of the Desert," the big Goron said. "Where is your master?"
"No time for pleasantries?" Nabooru gave a mirthless chuckle. "And I thought we had gotten so close after the peace. King Dragmire is behind me, maybe a day. I'm just the vanguard."
"I have no time for anything. Every hour my people are being slaughtered. Where have you been? The Lizalfos and Dodongo have begun their assault on the Crown."
"Then there is no time to waste, chief. Allow me and my best into your city and together we can get started on a battle plan. Have something halfway sorted by the time my king arrives."
The chief folded his arms and took a long time before he nodded. "See that your warriors understand who they are fighting and who they are helping. Then you will be allowed into my city." Then without another word he turned and walked back into the cave.
Gorons came forward to Nabooru and her warriors, taking the reins of horses and ushering them inside. None of them seemed to pay Link any mind, so he followed them. Making certain he stayed out from underfoot of the massive stony people. Once Bethmasse caught sight of him, but just gave him a small nod.
They entered the cavern; reddish-brown stone surrounded them. The deeper they went the less sunlight he could see, until the only light around them came from lanterns and torches hung around the wall. The Gorons led them deep into the heart of the mountain. Until the tunnel turned into a wide cavern, where the stone glistened by the light of a massive fire that made gems sparkle along the ceiling.
From that central room span dozens of tunnels, with their own fires and Gorons walking or rolling through them. It would take years to search through this place. Somewhere in this underground maze was the Ruby, and Ganondorf would arrive sometime within the next day and claim it for his own.
I'm doomed.