Chapter 9: Prisoners Of Our Own Past
Impa put the cup of wine to her lips and drank deep, letting the rich flavors wash over her mouth. Whenever the king received honored guests, he brought out the good wine.
She had hoped that the princess would join them for the feast. That child could hold a grudge like no other, yet Impa believed her smart enough to realize her folly. Staying in her room did nothing but make her look like a child. Which she was, in truth. Sometimes Impa forgot how young she truly was. As sharp as a dagger, but still only a child of eleven. Some days she acted her age. Still, her behavior left Impa with the rare occurrence of not having to look after anyone for a night. And what could she do on a night of no responsibilities and fine wine, but drink? She hadn't gotten well and truly drunk in years, hopefully she still had the knack for it.
Another swig of wine sent Impa back to being a brash young Sheikah Needle when she spent months scouting ahead of the armies of Hyrule, making note of the Gerudo's movements. The wild adventures and intrigues of creating contacts among the enemies and even once assassinating one of their commanders. And when she completed her task, she'd return to camp, report her success to her superiors, and live in the blissful haze of drink until her next order arrived.
Some nights she dreamed of being young and quick again, of being back on the hunt. The days spent trailing a Gerudo war party, laying traps, and disrupting their surroundings to drive them back without swinging a single blade. Or the weeks she spent with a fine young Gerudo warrior after convincing her to switch sides. The great game, her mentors had called it.
She would never leave the princess. But what a thing to be young again, fierce and wild. And drunk. That last one seemed the most important now. She should certainly be drunk. But even as she took more of her wine, her mind fell to her old training. She observed everyone within the hall, did any move awkwardly, or act suspicious? Were they hiding a weapon on their person? If they were, where could she run? Where could she bring the king? She glanced at each of the paths of escape; the doors, the kitchens, the offshoot hall, everywhere save the Sheikah Path. That she drew no attention to. It was unlikely that anyone watched her movements or tracked her gaze, but the old training never fades. A Needle must know where the Sheikah paths lay hidden, but never reveal them.
The two kings sat at the head of the great hall. Liotidos sat in a large ornate chair which indicated his superior position in the partnership. Unfortunately, only his belly and his chair were larger than his companion. The Gerudo King towered over him. Dragmire was a massive brute of a man. How many of Impa's poisoned needles would it take to bring him down? A normal man required only one. Exceptionally massive men or those trained as warriors with control over their bodies might take two or three. How many would an exceptionally massive man who was also so trained take? Four? Five? More darts than she had on hidden in her sleeves?
On the true king's right-hand side sat an empty chair, Zelda's chair. Not that Lio told his daughter the chair remained open for her. Oh no, the king simply refused to let anyone sit in it.
"Idiots," Impa muttered as she brought the chalice of wine to her lips. "Both of them."
"Lady Impa, hello," a voice came past her shoulder. "Do you mind if we sit with you?"
"Really?" came another voice. "Not here."
Impa turned to see Jora standing over her. Sir Jora Penrest, the Knight of Foxes, so named for his family crest of two foxes facing each other, though young serving maids and even some nobles named him the foxy knight in whispers to each other. He was a fairly handsome young man, to those interested in that sort of thing, though Impa cared more for his head with numbers. He had a knack for them, a surprising quality in a knight. Lio used him as an advisor and liaison with the merchant guilds and banks. A tall young woman stood at his side.
"It would be rude to refuse you," Impa waved toward the empty chairs beside her.
"Thank you," he gave her a respectful nod before he pulled out one of the chairs and helped the woman at his side sit. Only then did Impa realize who Sir Jora had as a companion. That Gerudo woman, Ganondorf's right hand, with a reputation near as bloody as his own. The other Gerudo called her Nabs, but Impa was not so drunk as to think she would receive the same privilege.
Commander Nabooru Bright-Flame looked far worse than she had when leaving for the Gerudo hunting trip. Bandages wrapped around both her legs up to her knees, and her right hand, as well.
"My dear," Impa said. "What happened to you?"
The Gerudo's eyes narrowed, looking Impa up and down as if she expected Impa to try and poison her food or slash her throat right here at supper.
"Thank the Goddesses it looks worse than it is," Sir Jora took his seat between them. "Commander Nabooru may have been having a bit too much fun during the hunt near the campfire. My lady why-"
"Jora, stop," the Gerudo's glare never left Impa.
"I'm sorry, my lady." For a moment his smile faltered. "Was the story meant to be private? We were laughing about it a moment ago."
"That was with you. Not this- witch."
"Impa is no witch," Jora said. "She is a kind and caring woman. I've been fortunate to call her my friend for years."
"Then you need better taste in friends."
"Please at least be cordial. Our new alliance won't hold unless we let go of past grudges."
"Jora," the Gerudo gave him a pleading look. "You're wonderful, but you don't know what you're asking of me. The Sheikah. They-" The raider struggled to find the words. "Some things can't be forgiven."
"Nabs, I ran you through with a lance."
"And the Sheikah are still worse."
Sir Jora sighed and looked back to Impa. "I am sorry, I did not mean to upset your dinner. I don't know what I was thinking."
"Don't worry, my dinner has not been spoiled." Impa took another drink of the fine vintage. "I've been called worse names than witch."
"And I bet you earned every one of them."
"Enough," Jora sighed. "I'll find us another seat."
"There's one," Nabooru pointed toward an open table near the front of the hall.
"No," Jora muttered, looking behind them.
"No? Why no?"
"That's Marquess Narcimus and Countess Montebray, a bit above my station."
"Station," the Gerudo scoffed. "That voe looks about as useful as a legless camel."
Impa almost spat out her drink. Though thankfully none of the precious vintage spilled. The Marquess blubbered over himself trying to impress the Countess, making sweeping gestures and spilling while the servants tried to clean up after him. Say what you will about the barbarians, this one found the Marquess' measure quick enough.
"My lady, you can't say things like that."
She rolled her eyes. "And what about over there? Those seats above your station, too?"
"The Earl of Ovli's table," Impa said. "And if you're unimpressed with Narcimus I fear you'll find the earl a worse companion."
The woman growled like an animal. "I don't see why we can't just sit down where we please."
"In Hyrule, it is not that simple," Jora said. "There are rules, some written, others are a matter of etiquette. A sort of social, uhh, what's the word, Lady Impa?"
"Protocol?"
"Precisely, a social protocol must be followed. I can't simply wander to any lord and bother them, I'm only a knight. No more than I can waltz up to the king and sit beside him."
Nabooru snorted. Actually snorted, one of the least becoming noises to hear from a young woman, and utterly unheard of at a royal feast. And the Gerudo didn't seem to care, and neither did Jora judging from the smirk he tried to hide. "You Hylians and your stations and 'social protocols' it's all nonsense."
"The Gerudo have theirs as well," Jora protested. "You have a king after all. And you all obey him."
"Not when he's being an idiot. He's just a voe, like any other."
"A king is not like everyone else."
"Fair enough, Jora, answer me this. You've fought against Ganondorf, on the battlefield and I watched you face him in the training yard this morning."
"Yes," and for a moment Jora's smile disappeared. "I heard. You didn't have to laugh, you know. Or at least not so loud."
"And you didn't have to stagger about like a drunk after he rang your helmet three times in a row."
"I got some good hits in, too."
"One."
"At least two."
"No, Jora, one. Trust me, I was watching."
Impa couldn't help but smile at the pair. As they talked the Gerudo forgot that Impa was there. It was a good sign. Even if she didn't trust Impa, she was fond of the charming young knight. Perhaps more than just fond. And from such intermingling the kingdom may stay united for longer than a single lifetime.
"But that's beside the point," Nabooru waved away the discussion of the training yard. "What's important is you've seen Gan in battle. You've seen his armor."
"Hard to miss," Jora said.
"What color is it?"
"I feel like you're trying to trick me."
"I'm not, what color is his armor?"
"Black, even people who've never seen Dragmire know about his black armor and sword."
"That wasn't his choice by the way. That armor was modeled after the armor of our original king. King Haraldorf decreed all Gerudo kings wear it - or, one that fits them, anyway."
"I didn't know that."
"And where do the Gerudo live?" Nabooru continued.
"Gerudo Desert, again I-" Jora's eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh! The Sun. He must be-"
"Uncomfortable to put it lightly. That's what it means to be a king of the Gerudo. You have to be tougher than anyone else, stronger than anyone else, and we don't go easy on him."
"That," Jora nodded, "explains a lot."
"Also why he always planned for night raids."
Jora's laugh burst out of him, loud enough to draw the attention from two tables over. "Oh, that's ridiculous. Over the years I've heard so much about the Gerudo king's tactical genius. I've seen generals fret trying to figure out his movements. And to find out that some of it was just because he was uncomfortable in the heat? It makes it all seem so… I don't even know. Arbitrary."
Impa gave a polite smile, though silently she cursed herself. Generals may have tried to discover the Gerudo King's designs, but the Sheikah had spent even longer to determine his weaknesses. No one ever discussed Ganondorf's clothing or armor in those quiet plots to confound or assassinate him. Who could consider using heat against the ruler of a desert?
"Speaking of him," Jora nodded toward the front of the hall, where the two kings discussed something over their meal. Liotidos' brow furrowed in deep thought, while the Gerudo leaned over him, gesticulating with his hands to emphasize whatever point he just made. "Have you two ever…" The knight left the implication of the sentence wander off.
Nabooru snorted again. "With Gan? No. No no. Is that what people think?"
"You two are quite close," Impa said before she realized that just reminded the Gerudo girl of her presence. Nabooru's eyes fell on her, and the mirth in her eyes clouded. She opened her mouth likely for some rebuke, though Jora stopped her. The knight seemed to have no idea how close the conversation came to ending.
"I admit, the first time I approached you I did not think I had a chance, because of your relationship with your king."
"It's not that. My mother worked for Ganondorf's mothers, doing everything they didn't want to do themselves, clean, cook, or make certain their son had his wounds bound properly. We grew up together, he's my brother in every way that matters. And he is dearer to me than anything. But that's it."
"Oh? That's it?" Jora teased. "Just the most important person in your life."
"What I mean is," Nabooru prodded him with her elbow. "That you don't need to worry about him. Unless you make me angry, then I'll send my big brother after you." While Jora gasped in mock shock, Nabooru smiled. "Besides, can you imagine waking up in the morning to see that face leering at you? I've been in battles less terrifying."
"Oh, I'd much rather imagine yours."
The Gerudo warrior blushed and turned away from the knight. Her hands went to her long braid, brushing it like a nervous child. Now there is a surprise, the barbarian commander, smitten like a doe-eyed youth. And more than a little pretty, even with her bandages and the small nicks and scars that lined her arms from countless battles.
A pity the two had not met during the war. How the Sheikah could have used such a relationship. Impa shut her eyes and let the thoughts pass. She was not a Needle anymore, and their kingdoms no longer at war. She did not need to think of ways to sabotage and abuse those around her. Even if this particular Gerudo had three small knives placed on her person. One obvious on her hip and two hidden in her shirt.
Stop that.
"Well," the Gerudo said after a moment. "I'm starving, aren't they supposed to be bringing us food?" She took her unburned hand and tried to push herself to her feet.
"My lady," Jora shot up from his chair. "I'll take care of it. You let your feet heal." Then over his shoulder, he looked at Impa. "Would you want anything as well?"
Impa handed him her now empty chalice. "White, please."
"Is that it?"
"Make certain it's well full."
Jora chuckled as he took it and walked toward the kitchens. Nabooru sat and stared at the table, her blush still glowing around her and her hand rubbing at her braid. Lost in the fantasies of young love. Leaving a mercifully quiet few moments, before her eyes turned hard and she looked at Impa. Then back to the table. Then back to Impa. Her mouth moved in some words that Impa could not hear and she averted her gaze again.
"So," Commander Nabooru said once her curiosity got the best of her. "You've known Sir Jora for a long time?"
"Well, I'm a bit older than you two, what I consider a long time might be far longer than him. That said, I've known him for three years or thereabouts."
"Oh," her hand went back to rubbing at her braid. "Is he- I've heard, from some of my sisters, that some voe make a game of vai. And, he's so- I mean you've seen him. He's so pretty. He could get anyone. And-"
"Handsome," Impa said. "Men prefer it when you call them handsome. Women -vai – are pretty. Voe are handsome."
Nabooru gave Impa a confused look. "Why would you bother making the word different based on what's between their legs?"
Impa shrugged. "It's just the way of things."
"That's ridiculous. But is he? Playing me a fool, I mean."
"I won't tell you you're the only woman he's ever had his eyes on. But Sir Penrest holds true to his vows and words. He likes you."
"Oh," then her smile returned to her lips. Though a moment later her smile dropped into a frown as she stared back at the table.
"You know," Impa said. "Jora's a good man, but not every knight in the war was as honorable as he. You know well the terrible things a man with a sword can do, and yet I've seen you laughing with many in the training yard."
"Well, it's unfortunate that I can't know everyone's sins then. Tell me who they are and I'll avoid them."
"That's not what I mean, your master said that all grievances between our people would be ended when he signed the treaty."
"And you're wondering why I follow his words for the knights, but not for you." Nabooru fixed her glare on Impa.
"I will not deny that some of my people may have behaved dishonorably in the war. But-"
"Spare me your feigned innocence," Nabooru snarled. "At Kakariko I broke through the Hylian lines and entered into the pits. I fought my way to free my captured sisters and what I found down there." She shuddered. "No Impa, I will never forgive you for what you did to them."
"I was not at Kakariko during the battle. I can assure you, whatever you found there I had nothing-"
"I am not a simpleton!" Nabooru said far too loud, causing some at nearby tables to look toward them. "I know who you are, Impa, Needle of the Sheikah. Of all the spies and assassins the Queen had at her disposal, she picked you to save her daughter. She wouldn't have done that unless your skill was well known unless you were in some way important. You were at Kakariko, you knew what terrors they were performing. And you did nothing. Didn't even have the dignity to stay fighting and die."
And with those few sentences, the other nights of Impa's old life came to her. When she didn't go drinking to celebrate victories with her friends but to drown out the screams that echoed through her mind. Nights where she felt so vile she knew no goddesses could forgive her and the only solace she could find was at the bottom of a bottle. "I never saw what was below."
"But you knew." Nabooru turned away from her. "Don't try to deny what you did, Sheikah. Not to me. Not again. Or I will kill you, treaty, or no."
The two women sat in silence, until Sir Jora returned, behind him two servants. "I didn't know what you wanted, my lady," Sir Jora said. "So, I figured let's try a bit of everything."
Nabooru's eyes widened in delight as the servants placed platters before her of venison, pork, and steak in various forms of roast and sausage. "You are amazing," she said, standing up and kissing the knight. Only a brief one, before the Gerudo pulled away and sat back down, her blush returned in full force.
Jora had a grin on his face when he turned to Impa. "And for you." he took her chalice from one of the servants and handed it to her. Impa forced herself to smile and took it. Bringing the chalice to her lips and guzzling as much of it down as she could.
"Impa!" Jora said but apparently didn't know what else to add. After a moment he turned to one of the servants. "Please bring her a bottle, I think she'll want a refill soon enough."
The wine burned beautifully down her throat and warmed her stomach. But it did nothing to silence her old memories.
A loud crash came from behind her. Impa glanced to see what was happening, expecting only one of the servants to have dropped a tray of food. But there was nothing. Only people looking confused toward the door. Another crash. This one louder followed by the sound of wood splitting apart.
"What is going on?" King Liotidos called and stood up from his throne.
The doors of the great hall burst open. Blurred dark figures with spikes around their shoulders rushed inside. People screamed. Something blocked her view; it took a moment for her mind to discern what she saw.
Sir Jora moved in front of her and Nabooru, his arms wide. "Moblins! Impa, Nabooru, get to safety!"
Everyone moved so fast. The monsters raised crude blades and attacked those closest to the door.
"Save them!" the King shouted to his guard. The knights ran from his side to engage the monsters.
A high-pitched trilled shout came from Impa's side as the wounded Nabooru tried to push herself out of her chair only for her foot to give out and fall back into it. She said something in Gerudo that sounded vulgar before she tried again. She managed to get to her feet and instead of moving away from the violence as Jora insisted, the Gerudo moved toward it. The dagger at her hip now clenched in her hand.
Impa grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back.
"What are you doing?" the Gerudo hissed. "Let go."
"You're wounded. Don't be foolish."
But the woman yanked her arm free and limped after Sir Jora. More of the monsters poured into the room. The King shouted orders, and marched forward, grabbing hold of a young serving woman lying screaming on the floor and pulled her to her feet, then forced her to the back of the room before he charged to another in need of aid.
Why tonight? Why now?
Of all the nights to go drinking. But that was the way of things. She'd gotten too comfortable for too many years. Things were bound to go wrong when that happened. Dark blurry shapes rushed toward her, something big and gleaming in its hand. A cleaver, the Moblins rarely had good steel, but a chipped blade can still kill.
Her hand shot forward, two darts flew from her fingers. One of them slipped past the monster's shoulder. Sloppy. The other struck true into the side of its neck.
The cleaver descended. She fell.
Impa meant to duck out of the way, dipping and weaving from her larger brutish opponent. Ten years ago she'd been able to slink around a battle, avoiding everything that came close. But now?
Her head smashed against the stones of the castle floor. As another of her darts flew out, she had no idea which direction it went.
The great gray blob fell beside her.
Now lying still, her eyes could focus on the scrunched doglike face with tusks protruding from its lower jaw. White foam spilled from its mouth, her dart protruding from its lips. It shook as it choked on the poison.
Perhaps she still had some of her old skills.
The creature's twitching stopped as it died. Impa got back to her feet as the world swayed. From the drink or from the bash against her head she didn't know.
Shining shapes fought against the dark ones. The Royal knights held their ground.
She couldn't make out Jora or the Gerudo commander from the crowd. But two shapes were clear even through her drink. Lio, her king, stood robed in white, bellowed commands. Looking almost as he had when she first met him. The gallant knight plucked from a lower family who won the heart of a princess and became king. He even had a sword in his hand, something that Impa had not seen in many years.
The shape beside him stood larger still and darker. Ganondorf fought with the massive black sword for which he was known. How did he get it? The Royal Knights and Castle Guard should never have allowed anything larger than a dagger in the king's presence. And unlike her darts, no one could hide that monstrous slag of steel. One of the Gerudo king's little magic tricks.
She shook her head, to right her eyesight. The unfocused blobs sharpened into warriors and monsters. Knights and Gerudo contained the Moblins by the door. But neither side seemed to gain advantage, and by the sound of it, far more of the enemy approached.
They needed to flee. The windows could be broken, but it would be a drop to the lower levels. Through one of the side doors was a hall that led toward the living chambers and the council rooms, none were particularly defensible. The kitchens were an option, but those doors were wide and open to allow many servants to pass through with ease. Hard to defend, and by the sound of the screams and crashing, some of the Moblins may already have entered the scullery.
Perhaps they could escape through there. But she could not risk being surrounded.
That left only the hidden exit, a well-kept Sheikah secret. The Inquisitors would not take kindly to her revealing even one of the Sheikah Paths. But hang the Inquisitors.
She made her way through the panicked screaming crowd to the king's table. "Majesty," she shouted as the ministers, nobles, and servants jostled about. Bodies scraped along her shoulders and back. All messing together in the chaos. The king issued his commands, ordering his warriors to bring the people back behind the line of guards and knights forming around him. "Majesty!"
He couldn't hear her. The crowd swept her back. Thankfully dragging her closer to the passage. When she reached the proper stone, she pressed into the ground, struggling to keep herself steady against the wave of people. When a space opened around her large enough that she wouldn't be trampled she dropped to her knees.
She worked her fingers along its edge. Finding the space beneath the lip of the stone, hidden from sight and filled with dust from decades without use. She found the latch and pulled.
It clicked.
"Beg pardon, Minister Wellsy." She pushed the nobleman's leg off the stone, sending him sprawling forward, though the mass of Hylians caught him.
Heaving the great stone upward she revealed a pitch-black pit beneath the floor.
"Get in," she told the crowd.
One man fell in without even noticing it, his scream lost among the shouts and clashing of the battle.
"In!" She shouted. "Get in! Everyone!"
Some listened. One server, spattered with blood, mouthed 'Thank you' before she entered the dark. Others followed, most too terrified to look at her much less thank her.
"Where does it end?" Earl Ovli somehow made his voice pierce through the battle.
Impa did not get a chance to respond before the press of the crowd forced him stumbling into the hole.
Liotidos, she needed to bring her king to safety. Where was he?
She caught the heavy fur robe near the front of the room. Why had he gotten so close to the fighting? He wasn't a young man anymore.
Impa struggled through the crowd all rushing toward the hidden passage. "My King!" She tried to get attention before a terrified woman slammed into her hip. An "Excuse me" escaped Impa's lips as she steadied herself. Such courtesy came second nature to her, even in the midst of a battle. How had she become so domesticated?
"Your Majesty!" She near reached him.
But the king pointed his sword to the side of the room where a Moblin raised his spiked club over a fallen guard. "Save him!" He managed to say between deep heaving breaths.
"Lio!"
The king looked over his shoulder. His face red from exertion, with sweat dripping down his face and into his beard.
"You need to leave."
"Not until everyone is safe."
"Yes, very noble of you. Only, you're not a knight anymore." She waved at the walls of flesh and metal clashing at each other. "Either they win or they lose. With you or without. But the kingdom will still need a king."
Someone shouted. A shadow passed over Impa and Lio. She cursed, grabbed Liotidos' shoulder and lurched forward. The dead Moblin collapsed just where they stood. The panting king stared at the massive body.
"To me!" A deep voice rumbled over the clash of steel and demanded obedience. A kingly voice, but not Lio's. Ganondorf raised his massive blade, and his personal guard and the knights of the realm formed behind him. Wherever he struck, Moblins died. Impa had the displeasure of being around blood-drunk knights and fools with swords most her life, and never before had she seen someone so comfortable with the chaos of battle. As natural a leader as she had ever seen.
Liotidos noticed him, too. His brow furrowed and jaw clenched as he brought his sword forward and cleared his throat to issue his own orders and retake command.
"Lio," Impa said. "Your daughter still needs a regent she can trust. Leave the fighting to the young."
Her king – her friend – looked back at the battle, then to his own weapon still bright and unmarked with blood and grime. "We make certain the unarmed escape first. It's what she would have done."
Stubborn royals . Still, many of those not partaking in the fighting already crowded into the hole. She nodded to her king. If Impa worked quickly, perhaps she could save him from his own reckless honor.
The few that did not run to the passage tucked themselves in various corners or beneath tables. Giving futile prayers that the moblins would not notice them. She and the king split up, each rushing to one group or another. Impa pulled at their arms, urging those hiding to move to safety as the blades and clubs clashed about. Get them moving and point them in the right direction. Most only needed the initial push for their survival instincts to kick in.
A squire, perhaps no older than twelve, lay sprawled on the ground. Impa darted over to him. A nasty cut on his forehead and his eyes closed. But was the cut fatal? She grabbed his wrist to check for a pulse. One of the Royal Knights fell, almost toppling over her. Knocking her hand away from the child. A Moblin bore down upon them. It raised a chipped axe high and screamed. Impa threw the last of her darts, only for the axe to smash it out of the air, by pure dumb luck.
She rolled out the way, but the axe had not been aimed at her. It burst through the squire's chest, sending his limbs flopping.
No time to dwell on the dead squire. No time to wonder how the Moblins even got into the city or the castle. Impa continued her roll, landing on her feet and springing back up. The movement made her knees click and her blood rush to her head. Once more her vision blurred as her opponent lumbered toward her.
She shoved her hands into her pockets, trying to find something to use. Anything.
But the creature moved quick, and after ten years safe in a castle she no longer carried anything more than her poisoned darts. She ducked out of the way. Old she may be, but a Needle of the Sheikah would not fall to a sloppily wielded axe.
Even if they're still a little drunk.
Impa wheezed out of the way from another strike. Searching around the room for some discarded weapon, or even an eating knife she could use. And she found one, hanging from the monster's belt. She baited another attack from the creature, positioning herself behind a broken table. The creature stumbled forward, its heavy foot crunching on the shattered wood. His strike flew wide.
Impa leaped over the table. The monster snorted, its eyes flaring wide as it tried to realign its weapon. Impa pulled a dagger from the Moblin's belt and in a single fluid strike smashed it into the side of the monster's neck. Quick. Efficient. Clean. Just as she had been taught as a child. Hot blood bubbled around her hand as the creature slumped to the ground.
She glanced back at the line of guards and Gerudo. The gap was closed, but there were still more of the monsters coming from the hall. But she could see no more living hiding in the fight. Pulling out the knife, she ran back to the king. "That's the end of them, now go. Go!"
Lio barely managed to squeeze through the hole and into the passage. Impa slid in after him, sliding the stone back into place. Leaving all inside in the cramped and dark. A mass of dark shapes pressed about her, crying and retching onto the ground.
"You need to get them moving," Impa told the king.
"I can't see anything."
"Neither can anyone else. You still need to move."
"I mean, I don't know where to go."
"Place your hand on the right wall and start walking. Make certain you stay to the right when the path splits. That will lead you outside."
"I can't leave, not without my daughter."
"Sire, you must lead your people to safety. I know these paths, I can reach the princess's chambers."
"I'm not leaving without her."
"Lio, you'd only slow me down." Without seeing, she could feel him starting to form an argument. "You've trusted me to keep Zelda safe her entire life. Trust I'll bring your daughter to you, now."
He took a long time to answer. "As soon as I bring these people to safety, I'm gathering the city guard and returning."
"She will be safe by then. I swear it."
A shift amongst the shadows as the king nodded. He turned and bellowed Impa's instructions to the crowd. Getting everyone moving down the proper path. Impa followed them for the length of the hall and halfway below another room before their paths parted. As Lio led his court to the right, she continued forward, until she reached a wall with a steel ladder set into the stone.
She pulled herself up the ladder, her body creaking as she climbed to the highest floors of the castle. Creeping through the walls, at points the Sheikah Path narrowed so she could only move with her back pressed against one wall, while her chest near scraped the stones before her. Poor Lio never would have made it through. That passage ended in one of the rooms set aside for a noble guest. Coming out through the false back of an armoire she found no Moblins in the room, though screams came from the halls, some of pain, others wrath.
Moblins inside the castle. That had never happened before as far as she knew, not in living memory at the very least.
How had they made it inside the city, much less the castle? They are not known for stealth, the big lumbering brutes they are. Nor cleverness or cunning to think up such a scheme much less implement it.
Magic, was the only explanation that made sense. But whose?
Her first thought went to the Gerudo King, but he had fought valiantly against them. And though all knew he dabbled with some minor tricks, he had never before moved an army with his spells. The Twinrova? Why would they attack their son and king?
Or could it be another threat she knew little about? It was said the Interlopers once traveled between mirrors, they built entire roads of shadow and reflection weaving just out of sight. But that tribe had long past been defeated.
She reached a servant's closet, pushing away brooms and buckets she opened the false ceiling and climbed into another path. The Sheikah made the false walls and passages through the old castle a network as vast as the ones of their villages. But not all the pathways connected. Impossible for a castle that had been rebuilt and modified over the centuries as this one had.
This one opened just above the king's chambers. Pulling aside the grate she dropped into the room. The Moblins had gotten here first. A vanity desk was crushed to pieces, with some of the former queen's jewelry scattered across the ground. Much of it broken.
A part of her wished to gather them up and fix what she could. Seeing his wife's memory so defiled would hurt Lio far more than he would ever let show. But now was not the time to be lost in sentiment.
Something thrashed about in the king's bedchamber. Shattered glass rang.
As quiet as she could, Impa avoided that room, keeping one eye on the Moblin shaped shadow cast through the open door, she crept out of the royal chambers.
Perhaps they went straight to the king's rooms. Perhaps they didn't know where they headed.
But that delusion did not hold long.
Across the hall, the doors to the princess' rooms were burst open. Impa's heart pounded as she raced to them. "Zelda!" she shouted. Forgetting all her training to be silent and stealthy, all worry of the Moblins she had moments before avoided. "Zelda!"
She reached Zelda's chambers, but no one remained within. Books once stacked neatly on her bed or desk, lay strewn across the ground. Many torn or stomped upon lay beside empty jewelry boxes and rupee purses.
They had her. They killed her. Impa had failed.
No. That was her fear. No blood, no body. No sign of a violent struggle, just the brutal destruction of the stupid and greedy.
They must have taken her alive, or she escaped. But where?
She ran back out of the room. "Zelda!" From the king's rooms, two Moblins rushed out, waving their bloodied blades in one hand and holding gold chains and rupees in their other. For a moment, Impa wanted nothing more than to cut them to pieces. But she had no weapons and Zelda was not with them.
A Hylian knight would face them regardless. A Gerudo singer would charge howling. But she was a Sheikah. And a Sheikah knew when to run.
Down the stairs, jumping over the stairs. She shouted for the princess as she bolted through the halls, toward the closest exit from the princess' rooms. Moblins and Hylians lay dead, the howls of rage and sorrow that echoed from other rooms could have been coming from their twisted open mouths. She could not stop. Not even when she came across guards, facing down a pocket of Moblins. They fought well, bravely even. Their shouts of courage matching the roars of their opponents. But they needed aid, and Impa would not be the one to give it to them.
She needed to find Zelda.
No sign of the girl, not in the clutches of any of the Moblins, amongst the voices screaming hers was not one of them. Impa glanced in every room she passed, but still no sign. All the way until she reached the steel enforced doors of the keep's entrance and the path into Castle Town.
Had she gone into the city? The gate was open, Weston and Borra stood by it. Battered from their own fighting, one of the kitchen hands huddled with them, trembling. A dead moblin at their feet.
"Did the princess come through here?" Impa shouted.
"No," said Borra. "We've been busy fighting what Moblins came to us."
"Yes, she did," Weston stepped forward. His head bowed in shame. "I- I saw her."
"Who took her?"
"No one, my lady," the guard whispered. "She had no one with her. Before the Moblins came. But she clearly wished not to be noticed. I didn't think- she's just a little girl who wanted to-"
"You let the princess exit the castle unescorted?"
"Her mother used to- Yes, Lady Impa."
She wasn't at the castle. She hadn't been there when the moblins attacked. She could still be safe. Impa ran past the guards down the streets of Castle Town.
"Zelda!"
Lights spread out across the city. Late as it was, the cityfolk lit torches and approached the castle to see the commotion. Out in the distance, the horns of the City Guard blew their warnings of an attack.
"Zelda!"
The near empty stalls of the marketplace could hide dozens of people. Some Impa noticed, finding refuge beneath tarps from the cold. Or the common criminals that hunted for dropped rupees after dark. But still no sign of the girl. Impa continued, past an old temple that few still went to.
"Zelda!"
"Impa?" came a soft scared voice.
The governess spun on her heel, to see the princess walking through the courtyard of the temple. An ornate grey cloak wrapped around her, hiding her golden hair. Impa ran to her and scooped her into her arms. Lifting the child from the ground as though she was still half her age, and held her so tight it almost hurt.
"What's happening?"
"We're under attack. We need a place to hide."
"Is father safe?"
"Yes."
"I was trying to get back home. I didn't mean-"
"You can explain what you were doing later. We need to get to safety."
"The temple then," Zelda said, trying to pull herself out of Impa's embrace. Impa lowered the girl to the ground before letting her go.
"I don't think the Moblins hold the sanctity of a temple."
"No, that's not it. You need to trust me, there is nowhere in Hyrule safer."