Chapter 45: Honor to the Fallen
Nabooru awoke clutching a cold, limp hand. It had been warm mere hours ago, when she fell asleep in the healer's tent. There had been life and hope in that hand. Now it belonged to a dead woman. Mulli lost the last great battle sometime in the night. At least her eyes were closed, she looked almost peaceful, the burns could no longer hurt her.
"Meet the ancestors with pride, my sister." She bowed her head and held tight to Mulli. But Nabooru's warmth did not spread to her sister, no matter how much she wished it to. After some time, she forced herself to let go and called for a surgeon.
A little old vai, skin browned and weathered from the desert sands, came to her, took one look at Mulli and sighed. "Worried that would happen, I did. Nasty burns on her. Nasty. Sometimes the body can go days trying to heal before it gives up. Nothing we can do for it."
"Prepare her with the finest clothes you have. This one will meet her ancestors with her head held high."
"As you wish, Commander Nabooru," the healer bowed her head before she scurried off leaving her alone with Mulli.
But would Mulli have her head high? She should, she fought as well as any other, except perhaps Bethe and her. And even then, Mulli won her fair share of bouts in the training yard. She could match all but the greatest knights or strongest Gorons. Yet, the night before, she did not seem so grand. "Tell our king, I'm sorry," she said in her few lucid moments. "Tell him I didn't mean to fail again."
Nabs had tried to tell her she had nothing to regret, that Gan found no fault in her to worry over. But between the tears and groans of pain, Nabooru did not know if she heard. Mulli slipped back into unconsciousness before Nabs could repeat herself.
Were those her final thoughts? Regret and sorrow? Blaming herself for the random tumult of battle? Would Mulli never know that she was good enough? That all her sisters and her king would miss her for the rest of their lives?
How many others would die this way? For the mad dream of a king. They all wrapped themselves in desire for his approval. Desquesza would joke to get a laugh from him. Bethmasse would kill a child she truly liked without hesitation if Gan said the word. And even the soldiers she did not know by name, all of them would lay down their lives for one man.
Am I any different? I'm the one that can rein him in. I'm the one that can call him insane or idiotic. And yet I'm still here.
The healer returned with two others in tow. Each nodded their respect to her, before they went to Mulli. One held a bright dress and another a dull bronze crest for her ceremonial headdress. The gem placed on its center barely bigger than a nail and had no brightness to it.
No," Nabooru said. "That won't do." She took off her own jewelry and handed the gold and red medallion to them. "She shall wear this when she meets the ancestors. Nothing less."
"Too much," one of the assistants. "Lady Nabooru, the burial is soon. You'll never get this-"
"I said to use that," Nabooru stepped forward, the surgeon shrunk away from her.
"Of course, my lady. Of course, my apologies."
They affixed the jewel to Mulli's charred forehead. Nabooru tried to see her as she once was, young, beautiful, shy, and so devoted. Gan found her, scraping a meager living without a clan, and offered her a place in the army. She already knew spear and bow. Nabooru instructed her how to survive in a battle, and old Seljai taught her to ride a horse. That was a name she had not thought of in some time. But Seljai was gone as well, another friend lost to these endless wars. A different war, back when Nabs thought every dead Gerudo was a hero. Now, she did not know, when battles were fought over lies, were even the greatest among them heroes?
Mulli deserved better.
Nabooru left the surgeons to tend to the body, she'd only embarrass herself if she stayed longer. Besides she had her own work. It took days, but the dead were gathered and a plot of the mountain had been dug out for the Gerudo to lay their fallen. The funeral was the last solemn celebration, before the armies descended the mountain.
All through the encampment, everyone prepared for the burial. Gerudo wore their best, with shawls around their heads in respect. The Hylians that joined them wore patches with the symbol of the Golden Three or their Goddess Hylia. After the last battle and the assault on the camp, everyone knew at least one among the dead. Priestesses of the Three offered prayers in their green, red, and blue robes. Many took comfort in their wisdom, while desert mothers in their long black gowns and veils gave their words to the ancestors.
Only the Gorons did not join the mourning. They had their own rituals held apart. Last Nabooru heard, every Goron that died in the battle would be buried within the Crown. An honor usually only given to the chiefs and even then, only if the Stone Speakers all agreed he deserved it. If any spoke against Darunia's decision, Nabooru hadn't heard. For once she agreed with the rock-brained fool. The dead deserved to rest, honored, in their most holy places.
She reached her tent, hoping to find some fresh clothes and make her own preparations for the funeral. Gan and the rest of the guard would need to know about Mulli. That was a conversation she wished to put off, even for a little bit.
"Nabs!" Bethe called to her, an urgency behind her voice.
Nabooru sighed, stopping halfway into her tent. Never a moment's peace. She stepped back out to face Bethmasse. "Yes, sister?"
"Where were you, I looked for you all night." It seemed true, from the bags beneath Bethe's eyes.
"Mulli passed," no point in sparing the details. "I was with her in the end."
"I did not think to check the surgeon's tents." Bethe took a sad breath, looked to her feet a moment before she straightened back up. The sorrow of humanity gone, and once more the diligent soldier returned. "I will inform the guard. But I have more ill news. It happened again, last night. Our king-" She looked to both sides of them to see if any were close enough to hear.
"Inside," Nabs beckoned Bethe into her tent. "What happened?" She said after fastening the canvas shut.
"What happened outside the Lost Woods. I was lucky, I saw him just as his eyes turned monstrous."
"Where is he? Tell me, no one else saw."
"He managed to flee the camp and headed down the mountain. I do not know how far he went."
Nabs cursed and gripped her braid. "Get Dessi and the others. Organize the burial, if anyone asks Gan feels ill." She rushed out of the tent before Bethe had the chance to agree. She managed to keep her pace steady as she made her way out of the encampment, even giving a few false smiles to those she met along the way.
Once past the guards, she ran. It did not take her long to find him. Gan could be light of foot when he needed to be, but caution must have been far from his mind the night before. His boots left heavy prints in the dirt and snow. No more than a mile from the camp the land blackened from flames. First only in bouts and smoldering patches of earth, then after another mile he must have lost control completely. Great streaks of charred earth, still wet from melted snow, led right to him.
The witch-fire had burned a circle about him, melting through the snow and into the rocks beneath, leaving a crater with a sleeping Gan curled up in the center. His clothes still smoked along with much of the scenery. When nothing was around to hurt, the beast within her friend amused itself wrecking everything in sight. Thank the Goddesses, Gan had the sense to flee, and those two crones weren't nearby to urge him on.
Nabs crawled into the crater, muttering to herself. She should have seen this coming. Of course he would crack when he discovered all his plans were for nothing. She should have been with him to help him through it. But then, who would hold Mulli's hand?
"Oy," she prodded him in his shoulder, "you still breathing?"
Ganondorf stirred. His eyes open, revealing a normal Gerudo yellow. Good, it was at least over. "Nabs?"
"Sav'otta," she held out her hand.
Gan groaned as he took hold and together lifted him stumbling to his feet. "Did I hurt anyone?"
"Only whatever critters dwelled nearby." At least she had that good news to give him. Now for the difficult part. "Listen, Gan, I have- I have to tell you-"
"Don't worry, Nabs. I know what to do," Gan turned away from her and looked back up the mountain. "Gather my personal guard, along with two dozen of the best warriors we have remaining. We're going to make our way back into the Crown. If we're lucky we won't have to use them, but it's best to have a show of strength prepared. Just in case it proves necessary."
"Necessary for what?"
"What are soldiers always necessary for? If a fight breaks out. Keep up, Nabs." He said as though he wasn't raving a load of nonsense.
"Gan, -why?" She waved the comments away. "Gan, we don't have time for this."
"Yes, time is important. We need to get back to the camp." And without even looking at the destruction he caused he started marching back up the mountain.
"Gan," she said as she rushed to keep pace with his ridiculously long legs. "Gan, what are you talking about?"
"The Crown! I need to get in and work my magic. I just need to make certain that the Gorons won't get in my way when I do it."
"Do what?"
"Get my Ruby." He waved toward the Crown before swinging his arm around to gesture at the ground. He made that motion twice more, as though she was meant to understand him. "I'll need to tear up the floor, but it'll be worth it."
"Gan, the Ruby is gone. Destroyed. We don't have time-"
"The Ruby can't be destroyed. The Goddesses created it, it's survived centuries in the belly of a dragon. No, it's still there, stuck beneath the rocks." He smiled and his eyes grew distant as he formed his plans. "We'll start with the obvious cracks. But with the ground shifting from the explosions, as Darunia said, it's likely that it may have moved a good way further than you might expect."
"How are we- Gan, listen this is crazy. Not me joking that you're mad, this is actually crazy."
"Now, while I do my work I'm going to need you and our sisters to keep the Gorons away. I'm certain you can think of a lie that will work. Or maybe Dessi might be the one to do the talking. Whatever you think is best, it's only Gorons after all. They're not the quickest wit in the land." He smiled at her. Smiled! Before continuing his march.
"Gan! Listen to me." She grabbed at his arm and tugged, finally forcing him to stop and turn around.
"What?"
"The burial has already started. You're supposed to be there, you have to speak over the dead."
Some of his energy leeched from his face. "Oh."
Thank the Goddesses, how can a voe so clever be so unbelievably thick?
But the realization in his eyes disappeared, instead replaced with an excited gleam. "That could work. Yes. That's perfect. Darunia will be dealing with his own dead. The Crown will be open. We have to go, now." He renewed his efforts up the mountainside, and made it several paces before he must have realized he was walking alone. "Come, Nabs, there is much work to do."
"No."
"What do you mean, 'no'?" His eyes narrowed. "Are you disobeying my orders?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"Nabooru we do not have time for this. We have to work fast."
"The Gorons are performing their ceremony within the Crown. It won't be open for you. But more important than that, our sisters are being buried. Don't you care?"
"Of course, I care."
"Then show it!"
"What do you think I'm doing? What better way to show I care than by making their deaths matter! So that they know when they reach our ancestors that they were a part of something great! That they changed the world!"
"That they changed the world, or you?"
Ganondorf stepped back, as if she had struck him. "How can you ask that? I am doing this for our people. I bowed to that fat oaf for them. I did everything I could to bring water to them. I started a war for them. I have given everything I have for my people."
"No, you haven't. Gan. Mulli is dead."
He usually thought so fast, yet now it took him a moment to grasp her words. "No. I brought her to safety. I stood over her after the battle. She was improving, just yesterday."
"She passed last night. She gave everything. Saevus followed you to certain death in the forest. She gave everything. Boszura and Tressa, you sent them as messengers to those monsters. They gave everything. And you knew- you knew they would never come back."
"I didn't-"
"I didn't want to think you'd be so callous, but you must have known. We spoke about Moqut the Thrice-Cursed when you sent them away. The way you described him, I should have seen it. You spend your days alone in your tent plotting, you don't talk to me, or anyone unless you're giving order."
"That's not true."
"When was the last time you took watch? When did you last sit at a fire and eat with your people? The people who love you. Who would follow you to this ice-covered mountain just because you asked them. You forgot their burial, all those you would cast aside."
"This is war, Nabs. You know that. In war everything must be used as a-"
"Don't quote the 'wisdom' of your mothers at me! Not now!" She pointed up the mountain, as the mourning chant of the Gerudo drifted down to them. "Do you think they are following those two shriveled husks?"
"Just because you hate them does not make them wrong. Sister, we need to harden our hearts, make ourselves-"
"You harden your heart! You spit on everyone who follows you if it makes you feel important. But do not call me sister again!" She brushed past him and made her own way up the mountain. Let the voe she followed all her life chase after her for a change.
"Nabs," he said. "Nabs!"
She did not stop.
He did not call her again. Nor did his heavy boots follow her. She climbed alone, muttering and cursing as she trekked to the camp. She wanted to shout at him, to draw her sword, she wished to talk to him, to run away as they had when they were little, slipping away from their duties to play. But none of that would happen, not now. Now all she could do was leave him in the destruction he caused.
The burial was well underway when she arrived. Soldiers stood in ordered rows, as tight as a phalanx. Before them the priestesses led the prayers, standing on a platform built for the ceremony. They sang their mourning songs to the Three and begged their ancestors for guidance. Calling for their lost friends and family to be shown respect in what came after. Nabs moved as quiet as she could, hoping not to disturb the song. This proved more difficult than she'd like, since she stood at the front. The same place she held in all such services since she and Gan fought their first battle.
She nodded to the other commanders as she took her place, then bowed her head, hoping no one else would disturb the ceremony. But this was not a day for her hopes.
"Where is he?" Dessi whispered.
"Did you find him?" Bethe asked, her deep voice carrying a good deal louder.
"He's not coming."
"What?" Dessi said. "Did you not find him?"
"I found him."
"Is he still…" Bethe left the question unfinished.
"No, he's well. He's just not coming."
"He's supposed to give a speech," Dessi hissed.
"I'll give it," Nabs hissed right back.
"You?" Dessi made a strangled half-laugh. "Are you sure you're up to it?"
Nabs glared at her. Don't mock me today, sister. I'm in no mood.
Desquesza seemed to realize she overstepped. She mouthed a silent apology before returning attention to the dais.
The eldest of the priestesses raised her hands, signaling the end of the song. Then she gave a call for one final prayer to the Three. "Merry Farore, we lay to rest those who faced their deaths with song on their lips and weapons in their hands. They are your children, let their courage bring you delight in the after as it has in this life. Cunning Nayru, under your guidance we lay the clever and skillful. They are your children, let your wisdom be a gift to them in their life ahead. Mighty Din, who demands strength from all, we offer those who survived the summer sun and defeated the armies of Lizalfos and Dodongo. They are your children, let your power drive back all the sorrows of the world. We offer their bodies. We offer our memories. We offer our songs!"
As she finished the prayer the army gave one final trill. Nabooru's voice rose to match the rest of her sisters. They came together in a single powerful note that echoed over the mountain and into the very halls of the ancestors.
The head priestess bowed her head and stepped off the small platform. The army fell silent, as desert mothers from all the great clans and several of the minor moved to the grave sites. Each gave their clan's last rites and prayers, invoking the names of particularly glorious ancestors to watch over the dead, and guide them to their proper place. Every churned piece of land had their own desert mother speaking over them, all except one. Where the clanless were buried. Where Mulli lay.
Over all the burials she attended, after almost every battle, she never thought how unfair that was. Who would guide Mulli? Nabooru had no clan as well. Her mother now led the Boar-Heads, but she'd never before visited their lands nor knew any of their mighty ancestors. They were not her people. Would she wander alone once it was all over? That couldn't be how it worked. Mulli needed someone to speak over her. She deserved it. And so did all who lay with her.
All too soon, the desert mothers finished their rites, it was time for the final speech. The last goodbye to the fallen from their king. Nabooru took a deep breath. Dessi gave her a reassuring touch on her arm, before Nabs left her place and stepped onto the platform. She cursed under her breath, as she looked out at the entire army arranged before her. She should have spent that time praying to come up with a speech. Gan had a way about it, he had the gift of summing up the trials and picking certain moments of bravery and sacrifice in battle for everyone to remember.
But she had no such skill. And though she tried to think what happened in the battle, the only thought that came to her was anger at Gan.
Thousands of eyes looked at her. And she had nothing for them.
"Well," she said. "Well."
By the Goddesses, what was it that she supposed to say?
She tried to start again, hoping that would give her some time to think of something. "Sisters." But no. Nothing. "Sisters. We have here…" Sweat formed on the back of her neck. Oh Goddessses, it would not be long until it pooled around her eyes and forehead, and then everyone would see how uncomfortable she was.
How did Gan do this?
"Sisters."
Those in the front of the crowds looked nearly as uncomfortable as Nabooru felt. She could not start again. Nabs glanced behind her to the nearest of the gravestones and those buried beneath it. They deserved so much better than this.
"I am sorry, my sisters. As you know, I'm not usually the one that makes these speeches."
"Where's our king?" came a voice from the crowd, echoed by a few others.
"Gan- King Dragmire is unwell," Nabs called out to the crowd. "It came upon him quickly, and hopefully will be gone before we start our march. But, we're not here to talk about our king. This last battle was difficult, and we lost many. More than we should."
"Because of the Gorons!" came another voice. "They're the ones that tricked us. Forced us to fight on bad terrain."
That was true, but the Gorons were not the cause of this war. But she could not explain that truth to the crowd.
"That's how they treat us," came that same angry voice again. "After all we've done to help them, and they still send us to die."
"Oy!" Nabooru shouted over the crowd's reaction. "Silence. This is to respect the dead."
"What more respect can we show them, than vengeance?"
More of the soldiers whispered among themselves, turning the once respectful gathering into a chittering hive of half-heard noise. What were they saying? What if she lost control of all of this?
Her eyes roamed the crowd until she found one of the rabble-rousers. A younger soldier, full of anger and desire to prove herself, ready to lash out at anyone. Had Nabs been any different on her first campaign? Satori Pass beat that out of her, mostly. But she had no lances to teach that lesson. She could make do without.
"I see you there," Nabooru pointed toward the young vai. "Today I'm burying dear friends. But if you're wanting a fight, I'll face you myself. My sword always spoke better than my tongue."
That made the soldier pause a moment, even as far away as she was, Nabs could read the fear across her face. "It's not you I want to fight," the anger was out of her when she replied. "You didn't do me any wrong."
"But you wronged me. Interrupt a commander's speech again, and I will beat you bloody. You look young, ask anyone here if I won't. That goes for all of you!" That got the vai to shut up, and most everyone else. Normally, that would have given Nabooru at least a little sense of pride. Instead, she turned away from the crowd to look once more upon the graves. "I held a friend's hand this morning until she passed. A vai I've known for years, one I fought beside and bled beside. And how many more have we lost in the last battle? All of them died for us Gerudo to find our place in this world. And now, some of you fools wish to throw their sacrifice away? You want to pick fights that will do nothing but turn us into the traitors and villains they all believe us to be? How pathetic can you lot be?"
That was no good either. You don't insult the mourners at a funeral. But what could she do now? Apologize to them? "I won't have it. Not when I am honoring my friends who have gone to what comes after. What more is there for me to say? We have fought all our lives for ourselves. I do not regret a single battle I've held bow or blade in. But those we honor here today? They died fighting for something greater. They fought for new allies, a new way of doing things. They protected those who needed protecting. And I reckon that is the most honorable death of all. Goodbye my sisters, may your sacrifice make for a better tomorrow. I will see you when the sands take me as well. Goodbye."
She wished to say more. Gan's speeches always went longer than that. Perhaps she could have mentioned how their bravery would never be forgotten? Or point out a few brave things the dead have done, she forgot to do that! And she could speak for an hour just on Mulli, much less the hundred of others.
Maybe I can start again? No. That would look worse.
Not knowing what else to do, she stepped down from the dais and returned to stand beside the other commanders. The priestesses called the ceremony to a close, as Dessi leaned close to her ear. "Not half bad, Nabs."
Soldiers filed past them into the graves. They stood before those dearest to them and gave their last personal goodbyes. Nabooru made certain to stop by each of the grave plots. Even those of the Hylians, she stood in silent vigil as those who worshiped Hylia gave their own sermon. Tears filled most eyes, and more than one sister broke down and needed to be carried back to their tents to calm themselves.
It was starting to get dark when she reached the last of the graves. Those with no Clan, read the stone. Few stood by this one.
"I'm sorry," Nabs said to the dead. "I did not get to see you placed here. I hope the healers did you well. I think the gem would look lovely on you." It felt so much easier speaking to someone alone, rather than an entire crowd. Even when that someone was dead. "He should have been here, after everything. I'm sorry I could not speak sense into him. You know how he gets. Arrogant oaf. I know I did not tell you this, but I always thought you were the sweetest of our sisterhood. But you always seemed to step back, let others do the talking. I wish I spent more time with you, of all of our sisters, everything I learned about you I liked."
This wouldn't do, Mulli deserved more. She waited in silence for the last of the mourners to leave, then she pulled out her knife. Glancing around, she made certain no one watched her, before she leaned over the gravestone. By the time she finished her blade was bent and would take hours to straighten, and the stone looked a mess of scratches. But she smiled as she read her handiwork.
Those of Mulli's Clan
She rubbed her thumb along her sister's name. "I'll miss you. We will all miss you. Even those who could not be here."
With nothing more to say she nodded her head and returned to the tents. The others were having a feast for the dead, one last great meal before the camp broke in the morning and they would make their way down the mountain. She'd join them, soon enough. But for now she wished to be alone and think what to do next. At least she'd lead the vanguard in the morning, she could stay well away from Gan and his madness.
But then what happens? What if he already interrupted the Goron's ceremony? What if he plans on continuing this fool war with no Ruby or Emerald? What if he found one of them? He'll start a war with the Gorons. Could she take a part in it?
No. He was too changed. The drive, the intelligence, it was all still there, but he lost what made him worth following. But where would she go? Return to the desert? Live out her days wandering alone like a desert mother? But even in her wildest fantasies she could not see herself in that life. More than anything she wanted to return to that ridiculous castle and find her mother and Jora. But what would she tell them? That she abandoned the army? They would need to know why. She would need to reveal what Gan was planning to do. What she had planned to do. Would Jora still have any affection for her after that? Did she deserve any in the first place?
She reached her tent and noticed a shape moving within. Probably Bethe from the size. Ahh well, at least Bethe knows when to be silent. She opened the tent and stopped, glaring at the unwanted visitor sitting on her blankets. "What do you want?"
Ganondorf placed a corked bottle at his side before he met her eyes. He gave her a sad little wave before beckoning her to enter and join him. She didn't move, she was done following his orders.
"It was a good speech," he said. "More threats of violence than I usually give at them. But it's best if we each have our own style, I think."
"You were there?"
"Nabs," he sighed. "Nabs, I'm-" He paused, trying to find the right word.
Thankfully, Nabooru had several fitting ones prepared. "An arrogant fool? A selfish ingrate? A stuck up, overgrown-"
"I was going to say, single-minded."
"Mine are more accurate."
He gave a sad smile. "You were right. I did not even make it to the entrance of the Crown before I realized how big a fool I was being. I am my mothers' son."
Nabooru crossed her arms. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," he took a deep breath and closed his eyes a moment as if to control himself. "I made you a promise. It's over. I tried my best. I really did. But perhaps my mothers have been right all along. I'm not the man who can-"
She ran to him, and grabbed hold of her dearest friend, cutting him off before he could continue talking. Embracing him as they had as children, when they had no one else but themselves. Her brother was back. "No, you proved you're better than either of those fiends could ever know."
He squeezed her tight, before letting go.
"You mean it? It's over?"
"Yes," though the very word sounded like a dying gasp.
"What do we do now?" Nabooru asked. "People are still dying, armies are still fighting in the East."
"Now?" Gan picked up the bottle and swirled the wine within. "Now, we do what I should have done. Now we open this up, we remember Mulli as best we can, along with all the rest of our sisters I've failed along the way. Sing their names as loud as they deserve. And then- then I will need your help figuring how to stop this war."