Hyrule's Stories

Okay, here's my writing thread, where I'll be posting all of the things that I end up writing. This branched off of my one fic, but since then I've added another story that gets posted here, and I'm planning another. So, I thought why not just post everything here? This way, all of my readers won't have to look around for any of my stories.






Newest Entry: Chapter Four Last Updated: 8/19/08


Newest Entry: Part Five Last Updated: 10/21/08


Newest Entry: N/A Last Updated: N/A


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The Legend of Zelda: Broken Goddess

Part One: Beginnings

Chapter One

The sun rose above the horizon in such a manner that everyone has witnessed before, but this day was different. The star seemed strained, as if it didn’t want to set its gaze upon the land, hesitant as to what it would bear. A lone figure watched this, his russet hair flowing in the silent breeze, pointed ears protruding slightly through strands of hair, and gray-blue eyes taking in the details.

Cain noticed the change in sun, and addressed it briefly, before standing up from his sitting position and walking away, continuing his daily routine. He had already started it by awakening before the sun to watch its slow progression and placing a kettle of water in the fireplace for his aunt, who would be awaking in a few minutes or so.

He strode slowly, covering roughly a foot with each step, quickly consuming the mile and a half from his family’s ancestral home in the plains between Death Mountain and the Faron Woods. The rushing sound of the Hylia River came from far off, closer to home, signifying his upcoming arrival to the garden away off on the cliffs overhanging his home.

First he ran to the stable and awakened the family horse, Rowan, and harnessed him to a plow before leading him out to the garden. “We have quite a workload ahead of us, old friend,” replied Cain, after viewing the barren soil that had been perfectly organized and tilled just last year. He scratched under Rowan’s auburn chin. The horse neighed in response.

And so for the rest of the next three hours, Cain and Rowan worked on tilling the soil, replacing the dry exterior with fresher, moister soil from under the surface of the earth. In time, the young adult and the steed rested under the shade of an apple tree, checking over the work. Cain took a long sip from a cool bottle of milk his aunt had brought up not too long ago with his lunch. “Lon-Lon Milk, best in the world, eh buddy?” he asked the mount, chuckling as he plucked an apple from above his head for the horse. “I bet you wish you could have some, but no, you’re stuck with that boring old water you love so much,” Cain chuckled and shuffled the steed’s mane.

“And speaking of water, you thirsty?” The horse nodded his head and neighed in response. “I thought so,” said Cain, nodding his head, “Well, the river’s over there.” The horse made no move, except to turn his head towards the bucket on the ground and then slowly to the boy. “What? You want me to get the water for you? Well, well, well, I guess you’re lucky you have such a generous friend.”

And with that announcement, Cain took a quick mouthful of his dairy and lifted the bucket. He made short time and was at the banks of the Hylia River. The river was quiet, but Cain had learned not to be fooled by its gentle façade. If you were to fall in, the current would carry you far away from where you fell in and take you to a point in the river where it met local streams and became a force to be dealt with.

Once the bucket was filled to the brim, Cain lifted it out of the water with a grunt, wishing he had brought the small bucket. He set it on the ground with distaste. "I’ll have to dump some of the water back into the river if I don’t want to carry too much," He thought. And it was at this moment that he noticed something different in the river. Somewhere upstream was a mass of black birds flying in a clutter over something in the water that was floating ever closer to where Cain stood.

He watched the irregular group as it came closer, making out a body of some sort under the jumble. This is where he took action, “Hey!’ he yelled at the birds, “Shoo! Shoo! Away with you!” Several of the birds scattered, and Cain reached a hand in to grab the figure as it floated by.

He brought it onto the shore and scanned its form. On it’s small face were large black eyes settled above a nose that turned upward somewhat. Under this was mouth with scarred lips, wide open, breathing slowly. A kind of tail protruded out of the creature’s scalp, flapping from side-to-side wildly in the air. The rest of the body like any other man’s except for the webbed feet and the fins on both the calves of the feet and the arms, which were all covered with small scales. Blood flowed freely from a wound under the shoulder blade where scales hung loosely to others, an arrow shaft dug deep into the body.

It was a Zora, no doubt, one of the natives of Lake Hylia, and it was injured badly. Cain lifted the Zora gently, making sure to not make contact with the injury, incase it got infected from his dirty hands. He slung the Zora onto his back and struggled slowly back to his home.

When he arrived at the front door, nearly ten minutes later, he kicked open the door, which had been opened slightly to let in air, startling his aunt, “Huh! Who is it? Rude little person aren’t you?” She yapped, releasing much more air than her little body could take. She collapsed back into her seat, eyes rising to view Cain with the Zora slung over his back, panting noiselessly. “Oh my, what happened to that one?”

“I found him in the river,” replied Cain, setting him down on a mattress.
“Well then, I’ll see what I can do for him,” replied the frail woman, white hair strands escaping from the bun she always wore. “You go get yourself something to eat and get back to work.”

Cain nodded in response, getting himself a loaf of bread that was cooling on the table by a window before going back outside.

________

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wow that story is realy good, and i like the cliffhanger.

I like it. It's pretty good if you ask me, so I'll keep reading it.

I remember you mentioning this in Din!

I'm no expert on the subject, but I like it and I'll be sure to keep reading it. Nice start. Not much else to say, just that it's one of the few Zelda fics that I've read and enjoyed and I hope you continue with it.

whens the next one coming?

Originally Posted by twilit_wolf

wow that story is realy good, and i like the cliffhanger.

Originally Posted by Colton the Last

I like it. It's pretty good if you ask me, so I'll keep reading it.

Originally Posted by Hugh

I remember you mentioning this in Din!

I'm no expert on the subject, but I like it and I'll be sure to keep reading it. Nice start. Not much else to say, just that it's one of the few Zelda fics that I've read and enjoyed and I hope you continue with it.

Thanks guys. And it's especially nice to see that someone actually saw that post in Din.

Originally Posted by twilit_wolf

whens the next one coming?

I might write it tomorrow, but I won't have internet access (which gives me time to read over it, because the first one had quite a few errors that I had to take care of). Either Wednesday or Thursday.

This is pretty hot. Good detail. I'll be watching. ;]

Well, chapter two's here, at 1,613 words (is this supposed to be an accomplishment for an amateur writer?), about 600 words longer than the last one. There's a flashback in this, which is an important kinda thing, because it has a foreshadowing to Part Two. And also, Chapter Three won;t be coming until net week, at the latest.

And without further ado:

The Legend of Zelda: Broken Goddess

Chapter Two

Cain left the house slowly, puzzled over the fate of the Zora. How badly injured was he? Were his wounds healable? And if so, what would he do upon his reintroduction into consciousness? All of this plagued Cain slightly, reducing his attention span as he worked. At random intervals after planting seeds he would suddenly look up and stare in the direction of the house.

Yet eventually these thoughts went to the back of his head and wouldn’t resurface for a few hours, when he got home. So he continued tending to the crops, planting seeds and watering them.

When he concluded the day’s work he sat down next to Rowan and took out the remainder of the loaf of bread he had been eating before. Rowan stared at him with a look in his eyes that Cain couldn’t make out. “What?” asked Cain sharply between mouthfuls of bread. The horse looked towards the river.
Immediate understanding of this motion came to the farmer. “Oh, your water. I seem to have forgotten that in the day’s events. I’ll go grab some for you.”

When Cain returned with the rather large bucket of water he had such a dislike of, full to the brim, he found, that not only had his lunch sack been vandalized, but that pieces of bread and cheese were still stuck in Rowan’s teeth. Cain chose a few select curses and muttered them under his breath, many of which had the horse’s name after them.

He dropped the pail of water directly in front of the mare. Water splashed over the sides, moistening the ground faintly. “Here’s your water,” muttered Cain, marveling at how easily one’s life long friend could betray you.
And just then Rowan came up to Cain and nuzzled him gently on the shoulder, evaporating a large amount of the displeasure targeted at the horse.

When he had rechecked the growing crops to see if any needed more water, and made sure that Rowan was in the stable with fresh hay, Cain slung the torn lunch sack over his shoulder and made the trek back home to his aunt.

As he walked, his mind wandered, as it had done earlier, to that moment at his aunt’s home, but he thought not of the Zora. He remembered how frail his aunt had looked, and wondered if he would lose yet another member of the family.

***

It was storming outside of the house, and Cain clung to his bed sheets under a table, covering his ears, fearful of thunder. This was a much younger Cain, one who had not had any of the losses that were to arrive shortly.
“Cain?” Came a soft voice from the hall, “Where are you?”

Cain barely heard the voice, yet it’s sound waves floated subtly into his ears, bypassing the security that his hands made covering them, not unlike the buzzing of a bee, which always managed to catch his notice somehow. The voice sounded again, and he listened, remembering how well he knew it. That was the voice of his mother, a red haired woman in her late twenties who had given birth to Cain over six years ago. “I’m over hear,” came faintly from under the table.

Footsteps sounded, and his mother arrived from the hall. She walked over to the table and bent down onto her knees upon reaching it, face to face with her son. “What’s wrong, Cain?” she inquired.

“The thunder,” he muttered in reply.

“Now there, there’s nothing to be afraid of, it can’t hit you. Be brave like your father, because he’s probably out there doing something about the Gerudo right now. Just think of how proud of you he’d be if you were to be as courageous enough to confront your fears.”

In response, Cain cautiously lowered his hands, revealing his ears to the sound of rain bouncing delicately of the windows, and the roaring of thunder coming from outside, and-

“Are those horse beats?” inquired his mother, standing up and heading towards the door. She looked through the window for a moment, and waited patiently for the horse to either pass or stop in the yard. It did the latter, as a soft knocking at the doors proved. She opened the door, and in the door way stood a man with short shaggy blond hair, blue eyes, and a sword hilt showing from his back. He wore an emerald tunic, chain mail protruding slightly from the v in his collar.

He spoke silently with Cain’s mother for a while, before leaving the doorway, jumping on his horse, and riding silently off. Cain poked his head out from under the table and moved towards his mother. “What’s wrong,” he asked, as his mother had started crying midway into the discussion with the stranger.

“N-nothing, don’t worry your little head about,” she sobbed.
“But I want to know what he said!” exclaimed Cain. She told him that she’d share it in the morning.

And in the next few days, Cain’s mother’s health worsened as she lost the will to live. It wasn’t until a year later, after Cain had moved in with his aunt, who was the only family member he had left besides a few uncles, both of which lived in distant lands, that he learned that the man in the green tunic was a general in the queen’s army. And as general, it was his duty to alert any soldier’s family if anything were to happen to that soldier. And Cain’s father had been declared missing in action while infiltrating the Gerudo base.

***

Cain thought about these deeply, but lost his train of thought when he tripped over a root from an oak tree in front of the house. He swiftly fixed his posture and walked through the front door. His aunt sat with her back to the door, facing the Zora, sipping tea.

“So, how is he?” asked Cain, indicating the Zora.

His aunt took a long sip of tea and spoke without turning to face him, “Fishboy’s strong, but he won’t last long without proper medical attention. I did what I could, cleaning the wound to the best of my ability and doing what I could with the arrow shaft, which is still stuck in him, I could only get most of the visible parts of the shaft cut off.” She took another sip from her beverage.

“That’s too bad,” replied Cain darkly, lowering his head, “Can’t we do anything else?”

“No, I can’t. You might be able to do something though.”

“Me?” asked Cain in shock, “I’m no healer.”

“No, you’re not, but you could take him to a town tomorrow to see one,” she answered.

Cain hastily agreed, and began packing for tomorrow, putting some food and rupees into the saddle packs that he had bought for Rowan a year ago.

***

In the morning Cain woke up earlier than usual, and out of routine went immediately to the stable to equip Rowan with the saddle. Once that was done he jumped onto the mount and rode home to pick up the Zora. He made short time, and was soon on the ground, walking alongside Rowan, who was carrying the weight of the Zora.

They made slow progress, stopping many times at trade caravans to ask for directions to the nearest town. After several hours of walking Cain and his company had made it to the town of Medicor. He paused briefly at a ranch on the outskirts of the town, buying grain to feed Rowan, who ate it wildly and without hesitation.

Cain entered the town slowly, having never been before, and he was unaware of the infirmary’s location. The town was neat, in that all of the houses were perfectly spaced and all were the same save a few differences. A few children played outside with a ball, which was leather-bound and bounced of the ground with a soft thump.

A man bumped into Cain, stopping to pass him a glare, as if saying, “Why are you in my way?” and walked off. He brushed his shoulder briefly, and led Rowan further into the town. Soon he had arrived in a part of town that was messier, but not to the extent were everything looked cluttered, just older.

He walked into a store and met with a man who gave them a description of the infirmary’s location. Following his directions, Cain came to a building that was isolated from the rest of the small town; it’s location nearer to the back entrance of the town, which opened to the south, where the depths of the Faron Woods were.

Cain stepped in, leaving Rowan tied to a tree at the side of the store, the Zora secured on his back. He came into the doorway, facing a thin girl with soft gray eyes and violet locks of hair that were combed down to her chin, curving slightly at the center of it’s length. The bangs covered the left side of her forehead and obscured the eyebrow on that side of the head, with the rest of the hair.

He discussed his plight briefly with her and she agreed to tend to the Zora’s wound for a reasonable price of forty rupees. Cain felt confident with Aamira’s, which was the name of the girl, ability, with her clean smock and the dustless waiting room.

After some time of looking at trinkets for his aunt in a nearby store, Cain took Rowan and rented a space at a stable for him before renting a room at the inn to spend the last few hours of the day and the night.

Great, great chapter; I really enjoyed it. The flashback and Cain's backstory really interested me. This story has real potential. Already in these two chapters you've really fleshed out the characters of Cain and his aunt. Well done.

Originally Posted by Hugh

Great, great chapter; I really enjoyed it. The flashback and Cain's backstory really interested me. This story has real potential. Already in these two chapters you've really fleshed out the characters of Cain and his aunt. Well done.

Ha, thanks. I really have to thank my last English teacher, who had a whole unit on the Elements of fiction, which helped me improve my writing greatly.

Interesting. Your detail is good. I like how the character of Cain has already started being thoroughly developed; keep it up. Dialogue works well enough.

I made a fancy pants banner for the first post. You should all check that out.

...
This is later than expected, but Chapter Three's done:

The Legend of Zelda: Broken Goddess

Chapter Three

Cain awoke without hesitation from the stiff, dirty bed he had slept in at the inn. A horn had sounded just a minute ago, proving what the man at the front desk had told him. Cain remembered his words well, “This town’s got a strict curfew and everyone wakes at the same time, as a means of upping the equality ‘round the village, so that people don’t complain as much.”
Cain stood up from his setting position on the mattress and reached for a cold basin of water that had been placed on his bedside table just an hour ago. He cupped his hands together and lowered them into the basin slowly; letting his hands fill with the chilly liquid. He left them there momentarily, before washing his face, the chill running though his body like lightening, rejuvenating every pore in his body.

Cain then dressed and left the building, eager to explore the town in detail before the Zora healed. He reached his door and walked out into the hallway, working his way down the steps and out the door.

“Now then, where to?” asked Cain, directing his query to a coin he had just pulled out of his pocket. The coin was nothing special, not used in Hyrule’s currency at all, yet it held a value to Cain. It was the only memento given to him by his father, given to him sometime before that particular kin had left for the war.

The coin was of a bronze variety, bearing a light brown hue, flecked with dirt and scratches. On one side of the coin was an etched form of an eagle, holding three triangles, which together formed a triangle with a center a gaping hole, as if there was once something there. Cain knew from old books he had that this was the mark of the Royal Family of Hyrule. On the other side of the coin, it was quite different. In the center lay a marking, resembling a triangle, balanced on it top point, the point itself facing downward, surrounded by inscriptions that circled around the mark on the rim of the coin.

He flipped it, Royal Mark, left. Triangle, right. It landed on the ground with a soft ringing sound. Cain inclined his head to check what side it had landed on. He saw runes and a triangle. He pocketed the coin and continued on his way through the town.

Cain proceeded to explore the south part of the town, which had been to the right from his view in front of the inn door. He spent the day venturing throughout the streets of Medicor. Soon he found himself in the stable of the town, feeding Rowan carrots from bucket on the ground, the sun only an hour away from lowering itself into it’s bed, according to Cain’s inner clock.

The horse noisily crunched on the root, ripping it out of Cain’s grasp. Cain chuckled, reaching down to a cold bucket of water, filled mid-way, and reached for one of the vegetables concealed in it’s depths. He drew a carrot, and held it like a sword, flourishing it in front of the horse’s muzzle, before the steed decided that Cain should sheath it in his mouth.

The stable door creaked open, letting in a crack of light, which proceeded to reveal floating bits of dust, dangling in the air by invisible threads. Followed by the sound came a violet-hared girl, Aamira.

Cain turned at the sound, and gave a blank look, unsure if the tidings she would bring were good, caught unaware by such an early calling. “Hello there,” he managed, expecting the worst, “How is your patient?” He braced himself mentally.

She looked at him, and smiled. “He’s doing wonderful. I managed to heal his wound, and it’s closing up very swiftly. He should be able to get up on his feet without any discomfort by tomorrow morning,” she replied in a small, full voice.

Cain returned her smile and subconsciously scratched under Rowan’s chin, bringing the horse into a good mood too. They stayed like that for a while, smiling, until Cain asked, “When may I visit him?” She told him he could go now, if he wished, and walked with him back to the building, chatting all the way.

“It’s actually pretty normal with my patients to heal quickly once I’ve seen them,” she said when they were nearing the infirmary’s boundaries, “It’s a bit of a gift I have, actually.” Cain inclined his head towards her and nodded politely, to show he was listening, adding in a word or two to thank her again for her services.

Very soon they had entered the through the front door to face a fully healed Zora who was sitting upright on his bed. Only one other person lay in the room, but they were on a sheeted mattress, sleeping, blanket sprawled on the ground. Aamira smiled at Cain and went to pick up the sheet, waving the dust off before laying it onto the resting patient before going through a door and leaving Cain alone with the Zora.

The Zora looked at Cain with unblinking eyes, registering the dusty attire, a small frown on his face, barely visible. Cain caught the frown and immediately felt uncomfortable, to an extent.

It was the Zora that spoke first, “Aamira tells me you’re the one who rescued me,” He shifted into a more comfortable position, “I thank you for that.”

Cain sat himself down in a seat by the wall, “I couldn’t let you drown. I guess it’s in my nature to help people when I can,” he said after awhile.

“I see.”

There was a pause, in which Cain and the Zora exchanged looks at each other, until Cain was forced to stare at the wall, counting the faint flower patterns. The Zora stared on. Cain darted a look at the Zora, turning to him again. “My name is Cain,” he held out hand.

“My people call me Hie,” replied the Zora, taking no notice of gesture.

Cain put his hand down, his liking of Hie draining slowly during the encounter. They stayed silent for the next few minutes until Cain decided enough was enough and stood up to leave. Just as his back had turned and Cain had taken the first step in the direction of the door, when a voice came from behind, “Wait,” it commanded.

Cain turned to face Hie, who spoke again, his voice quieter, yet still with that air of command, “Wait, Cain.”

“Yes?” Cain inquired, wondering why Hie had taken such a sudden interest in him.

“It pains me to ask you this, but I need you.”

“Need me? For what?”

“I need protection, and I’m too weak to continue my mission on my own, to my dislike.”

“Protection for what? What mission?”

Hie shuffled and hesitated before answering, “I need to deliver something of great importance, and I’d like to get it delivered as soon as possible, which would be impossible for a Zora to do on land.”

“Land?” asked Cain, “Can’t you just swim there?”

“No, my arm is healed, but I cannot swim until I visit a Zoran medic, for fear of damaging the nerves in my fins permanently. And so I ask--no, beg of you to come with me on this journey.”

Cain paused to look out of a window, organizing his thoughts. Why should he go? He had to go; he couldn’t let the Zora go weak and unattended. And, if he were to go, how would his aunt know he would be gone for who knows when? He shook the thoughts away.

“Come with me. Please,” pleaded Hie, a final time.

Cain looked at him, and nodded. A sigh came from Hie and relief spread across his face. “I thank you,” he began, “The journey would have been difficult on my own. I have one more request for you.”

“Yes?”

“I need you to finish your venture in this town and prepare for the hour after dawn, for that is when we leave.”

Cain nodded in response and left quietly.

PLOT TWIST DUNANUUHHH

I like it. The Zora's personality is nice and fresh. :>

Decent chapter, there wasn't really much in it so to speak but it has set the story up for what I imagine will be the real exciting part.

Again, not much for me to comment on. Just: It was well-written, looking forward to the next chapter.

amazing fan fic mate, in fact, one of the few that I've actually wanted to read. Keep it up, I eagerly await the rest

Mm. Well then, I know this is a little later than usual, but I fixed it by making it longer than usual. Also, I'll be putting up chapter weekly, on Mondays.

The Legend of Zelda: Broken Goddess

Chapter Four

Cain awoke slowly, his body stuck in the limbo between sleep and consciousness for a moment, until he was fully awoken. He blinked twice, bringing in his surroundings. There was his food sack, lying limply by the door, empty. And next to it was a traveler’s bag, large and filled to the top. He blinked again, remembering the last day’s events.

Oh boy, He thought, what have I gotten myself into? He shook his head, puzzled over how the proceedings of the future would work out. He sighed, and pushed a hand down his shirt, grasping around on the inside of the fabric for the wallet he kept. He reached it with ease, extracting out of his shirt like so many times he’d done a day ago.

He opened the leather pouch he kept for a wallet, which fit nicely into his hand, and counted out the remaining rupees. Well, it isn’t much, but it’ll do. He sighed again, and pocketed the rupees for use later, planning on getting someone to send a message to his aunt. Next he went over to the travel sack and double-checked that everything was there. “Good,” he commented aloud, relieved that the sleeping bag (“Just one,” he had said to a man at a parked caravan who was selling them. Hie could worry about his own pack), grain, seeds, and a first aid kit hadn’t fallen out.

Cain then proceeded to tie up the sack, throwing in the empty food pack, and heaving it over his shoulder before leaving his room and checking out from the inn.

His first stop was a post office where he hurriedly wrote a sloppy letter explaining what had happened for his aunt. When he was finished, he rolled the parchment and tied it with a strap of leather. He tossed the letter into a box on the front desk, where a man in running shorts and a red hat snored loudly, asleep on his chair.

When Cain made it to the north gate, tugging Rowan along with him, he arrived to find Hie standing by the wall, arms crossed. “You’re late.”

Cain ignored the comment. “Now, are we doing this or what?”

Hie kicked a bag at his feet to Cain. “There’s something in there for you, it’ll be the longest thing in there. Once you’ve got that, tie the bag up and put it on your steed.”

Cain did as he said, and opened the bag to find smaller bags and a long package. Cain noted that the long one was probably his. He ignored it, going for the other, smaller parcels, curious on their contents. Cain saw Hie gain an irritated look on his face, followed by the rolling of his green eyes.

The parcels Cain opened were filled with food. There were crackers on one side of one, and what looked like oatcakes on the other. He opened another; there were mushrooms, celery stalks, and carrots. Cain gave a sigh of relief, he hadn’t remembered to bring any vittles. Then he noticed a lumpy item wrapped in a yellowish parchment, which had ripped in some spots. Cain puck it up, and examined the tears in detail.

The rip was small and triangular. There were slits to the left and right of the slash, all similar to each other, but not to the center rip. Folded velvet poked out from one side of the slits, which were all just two large slits. It was a violet-red color and poked out with some sort of tan fluff. Cain connected the rips and found a gleaming knife. He lifted it gently up into the air, bringing it to eye level to look at it more closely.

“You weren’t supposed to open anything else except your package,” came a angry comment from behind. “And if you’re wondering, that’s for cooking.” And with that, Hie grabbed the blade form the hilt and put it away with care. Cain managed to a glace at the pommel, which held a violet stone, which seemed to glow with a golden light, not just a tint; and parts of the light sparkled in different colors; green and blue in one spot, and red nearby.

A long package wrapped in rough fell into Cain’s lap, and not in a gentle way. “Now, that’s yours,” proclaimed Hie, already standing up with the pack, placing it in Rowan’s saddlebags. “And next time,” he continued, “Don’t go looking around in my things.”

Cain rolled his eyes and attacked his package quietly. It held a polished wooden walking stick colored a deep brown. Cain tossed it from one hand to his left; being left handed, and stood up.

In a matter of minutes, Cain had all of Hie and his’ gear tied onto Rowan; they left swiftly after that.

Hie walked in the front of the group, leading the way, Cain following closely behind, tugging Rowan along by his saddle straps. They trudged along slowly, heading forward to the north. Soon a soft roaring began, growing louder and louder until the trio came to it’s source, the roaring Hylia River, which continued on southwest to Lake Hylia. At it’s mouth were the hills produced by the shrinking mountains to the north. There lay the Domain of Zora, according to the stories Cain had heard when he was younger.

They followed the river to its northeastern beginnings. “Are we going to Zora’s Domain or something?” Cain called to Hie.

“No,” he replied sharply.

“Then where are we going?”

Hie turned his head back and shot Cain a look of annoyance, “We’ll talk when we make camp. But for now, keep your tongue silent, it’s starting to give me a head ache.”

Cain rolled his eyes, but remained noiseless. Rowan gave a cheery neigh, bobbing his head up and down. Cain gave him a puzzled look, but then it stumbled upon him. The horse was laughing. “Shut up, you,” Cain said darkly, not exactly happy with the prospect of traveling with Hie.

They followed the length of the river until dark. When the sun had vanished along the horizon, Hie led the group to a clear spot alongside the rushing water and hade Cain made camp. Cain was annoyed at the prospect of doing all the work himself, even though that’s precisely what he did at home, but with Hie it was different. Hie was capable of doing work, even with his recent injury. Cain’s aunt, on the other hand, was too old to do any real work without harming her self. When Cain had set up the tent, which was nothing much besides poles in the ground with a blanket covering the ground from atop the poles.

“Good,” commented Hie, “Now go get some wood for a fire.” The zora turned away with that and turned to the river, pondering something of unknown origin.

Cain grunted in response and went to get the wood. After trekking to the forest for nearly an hour, Cain came trudging back with a load of twigs and small logs in his hands. He came to the direct center of their camp and sent them down. They hit the ground with no sound, but when they rebounded against each other, rackety thumps resounded. Hie didn’t turn. “You took your time,” came his voice, registering that Cain had returned, “Now, light the fire, there’s some flint in my pack. Grab that, and only that.”

Cain took a deep breath, weary from his trek to the outskirts of the woods. He had hurried out of there as swiftly as he could once he had gathered enough lumber. There were stories out there, crazy ones. They said that if you got lost in there, you wouldn’t find you’re way out, and in time, you’d transform into a mindless monster.

Children in the village Cain used to live in when he was younger, before the event with his parents, to keep them from wandering to far into the forest. Cain knew it was a children’s tale, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

Cain wandered over to Hie’s pack, which was on the barren floor by the lean to Cain had constructed. Cain opened the bag quickly and found a shining black rock. He looked around for some steel to strike it against. He found nothing, but at that moment he recalled the knife from earlier. Cain shuffled through the bag soundlessly and found the blade.

Cain checked the keenness of the blade, sure of himself on what to do next; when he was younger his father used to take him out to camp on the outskirts of the Faron Woods. Cain took the dark stone in his palm and raised it to eye level. He brought it down with great force right down on the dagger’s blade, which he held in his steady hand. There was a scraping sound and he was rewarded with several glowing sparks that landed in a nest of thin cut park he had constructed moments ago.

Hie turned around sharply at the sound. He blinked in surprise. He darted his eyes to Cain’s hand, “You were supposed to take the flint, and only the flint.”

“It was the only way I could get the fire going,” said Cain, arranging some thin twigs around the wood bark.

Hie sighed and took the knife gently away from Cain. He wrapped it and put it away, looking at it like a mother looks at a newborn child. Cain didn’t know why, but he had a feeling that the blade was important.

They waited for the fire in silence, and once it had gone on for a while, Cain added more twigs and two logs. The flames ate up their nourishment and when it had risen to a high enough temperature Hie pulled out a tin pot, filled with water from the river, and situated it by a side of the fire. The flames were lower there and dipped around the side of the pot, but didn’t envelop it completely; the side facing His was clear of the twisting blaze. He then proceeded to break some of the vegetables he had brought from Medicor and dropped those in. Soon, the stew was a translucent yellow-green color with small bubbles in the liquid.

Hie extracted two bowls from his pack, washed them in the river, and filled them with the soup. He offered Cain the second bowl. Cain took it and gave a silent nod of thanks. They gave the rest of the soup to Rowan, who slurped from the pot happily.

When they had finished, Cain laid back against the smooth surface of a rock, which jutted from the ground, his belly warm with the before mentioned meal. Hie went back to facing the river, feet left to float on the surface of the water. Soon, Cain’s thoughts through the memories of the day, “So, what’s our final destination?” he inquired to Hie.
The zora turned his head, shadows dancing on his face with the rhythm of the fire. “We’re going to Kakoriko Village,” he said.

Cain nodded, pleased by this answer. Kakoriko was just off by Hyrule Castle Town, which he’d been to before, to sell crops with his aunt. He slid his hand into a pocket and drew his father’s coin, twisting it in his hand.

A minute later Hie was right next to him, a serious look on his face, “Where did you get that coin?”
Cain blinked, surprised by the sudden invasion of space. “It was my fathers,” he said.

Hie stared at his face, as if looking for a reason to believe him. After a moment, his scrunched up face relaxed, and he smiled. Cain blinked in surprise. Hie nodded his approval at the coin, “I was worried when I had asked you to journey with me that I had made a wrong choice, but know I confident that I’ve made the right one.”

Cain was shocked. “W-wait. What do you know about this coin?”

Hie chuckled and put a finger to his lips. Man, this guy’s annoying, fumed Cain silently.

This is an excellent fanfic, mate. One of the best I've read. The description is superb, the characters are great, and the spelling and grammar is top-notch.

However, there is one small thing I noticed.

Children in the village Cain used to live in when he was younger, before the event with his parents, to keep them from wandering to far into the forest. Cain knew it was a children’s tale, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

This doesn't really make sense to me. Perhaps I'm just not reading it right, but I'm guessing it's just a typo.

Other than that, I really have no complaints. This is outstanding writing. Looking forward to more!

What's this? I'm actually posting in this thread and not letting this piece of fiction die? Well, I have some good news, bad news, and more (at least I think so) good news. Firstly, my time in writers block is coming to an end, and I've written something. The bad news, it's not Chapter Five. The other good news, it's a new short story I'm writing to help the creative juices flowing. I'm just going to be posting it here, as a refresher. It's a vampire thing, and it'll be a couple parts long. Broken Goddess may get updated once that's done, or I might get a chapter in some time soon (I'll be driving up to Detroit with my family, and I might write while in the car).

Anyway, without further ado:



Part One

A lone figure stood over a work desk, one hand on an object fastened on the desk, another holding a screwdriver. He worked on for a minute more before becoming satisfied by the tightness of the object he was screwing. He raised a hand to his face and wiped the sweat from his brow. Things weren’t going well on the battlefront; his group’s weapons kept failing, and he felt responsible for that. I mean, what good’s the gadget guy if he can’t get his gadgets working?

With a sigh, he picked up the item on the desk and weighed it in his hands. The dangling light bulb above him, just a few inches from his blonde head, revealed a long gun in his hand, resembling a metal crossbow. He tapped his foot hard onto something on the ground, making a squeaking sound, which came out rattled. He continued tapping his foot until the sound he heard a thumb from the other side of the room. With a determined expression on his face he flipped one of the light switches to his left, illuminating the whole room.

The light bulb over his head was weak in comparison to the ones recently turned on, dieing out with a hiss without the man noticing. The room was illuminated, unveiling several boxes stacked against the walls of a small plane hanger. The floor was littered with plastic tubes that wound they’re way from pumps (hand pumps and ones, like earlier, that were stepped on to move air) to large inflatable balls that found themselves underneath hole-ridden targets in the shape of men.

The man took aim, and fired. A small wooden stake flew from his weapon to the only target that he had raised. In a matter of seconds, a small piece of wood could be found right where a man’s neck would be on the target. The man fumed silently. That wouldn’t be very much of a problem if he was trying to kill a mortal, but vampires differed in how you snuffed them out.

He raised the crossbow to eyelevel with one hand, reloading it with the other. He stared straight to the spot over the target’s heart, long finger shaking hesitantly in front of the trigger. He moved a wisp of blonde hair from his vision and fired. The stake found its mark, nestling itself deep into the targets heart. The man gave a smile, and with long, quick strides he dropped himself into the chair behind his desk, bow on the table.

A quiet humming echoed through the room, followed by a jazzy tune. The man dug a hand into one of his pockets, grabbing for his cell phone, which was vibrating, screen lit. “’Ello,” he said, pressing the phones speaker to his ear.

“Hey, Will,” came a female voice from the other side of the line.

“Hey, Sam,” he replied; Samantha Coopers was the sister of his best friend, Patrick, and one year younger than him, at nineteen. “How’s it goin’?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, stretching out the word ‘fine’, “but Pat wanted me to bug you about the bows.”

Will chuckled, “They’re done; just finished working on them.”

“Cool.”

A pause, then, “Mind if I come over?”

Will struggled to hide a smile, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “Uh, s-sure,” he stuttered. Smoooth, he thought to himself, mentally hitting himself on the head.

“M’kay,” she answered, “I just got to change, and then I’ll be right over. The usual place, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied.

The phone call ended with silent good-byes. Will stood up and walked over to the bathroom, which was really a cubicle set at the far corner of the hanger with a toilet and sink that sometimes decided to soak who ever was in the vicinity. Luckily, the plumbing was functioning properly and managed to work properly. Will removed his dirtied glasses and proceeded to washing the sweat and grime from his fair, finishing off his wash by running a wet hand through his shoulder length hair.

Pleased, he halted the steady flow of cold water (the hot water didn’t work) and put his glasses back on. He entertained himself for the next twenty minutes by sitting down in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk, and listening to his iPod while he waited on Sam to drive over.

Pretty soon, he heard the soft screeching of a car parking outside and he jumped up from his position to open the door, stuffing his headphones and iPod into the pocket opposite the one that held his cell phone. He opened the door, frowned, caught himself, and let out a salutation, “Sam, you didn’t tell me that oaf would be coming.”

“Oops,” she said, feigning innocence, “it’s just that as soon as I told Pat that you’d finished the crossbows, he just had to come,” she walked over and gave Will a hug, “Plus,” she said silently to him, “I don’t have my license.” She winked at Will and released him from her hug.

“Oh yeah…” He shook his head, and then brought his attention to the young man Samantha had come with.

Patrick Coopers was tall, at five foot eleven, an inch and a half shorter than Will, with dark hair that he wore spiked. His eyes were naturally blue, though they had purer in recent years, the blue mingling with a gray hue. His face was almost white, so pale that it barely retained any color at all. He winced in the sunlight. “Hey, Will,” he said, embracing his friend.

Will gave him a quick pat on the back, as Pat did as well. Patrick wasn’t really a hugging kind of person. “How’s it been,” he asked casually.

Patrick’s face suddenly scrunched in disgust, “Bah. How do you think it’s been? We lost that pack of them last week on West Street. They got that homeless guy, Will! How do you think it’s been?”

Will shuffled his feet uncomfortably, “Yeah… but we did our best, right? I mean pretty soon those vampires ‘ill be quaking in their boots—or whatever footwear they wear. Eh,” he forced a smile.

“Yeah, but their not scared of us now, and that’s not good,” replied Patrick, “And by the way, I wear tennis shoes,” he raised his foot and they both smiled; Patrick’s mouth opened slightly, revealing small pointed fangs, but the sign of blissfulness evaporated as quickly as it had come. “So, how are those bows?”

Will took a glance across his shoulder, where Sam stood watching the scene biting her bottom lip. “Yeah, let’s get to those.”

----
I'll be working on Chapter Five as soon as possible. The next part in my vampire bit'll be coming soon as well. I'll be switching around between Patrick, Will, and Samantha's perspectives with that. I initially had four parts planned, but I'm not sure at this point. Definitely less than ten, but don't expect anything 3000 words or anything, 'kay?

Part Two

Patrick walked silently with his friend, Will, into the small hanger. His sister joined them as they passed. It was actually Patrick who had purchased the hanger, nearly three years ago, using money he had saved over to the years to pay the rent, when they he had decided to hunt vampires.

It wasn’t some random motion though; Patrick had a whole story behind his distaste for the blood sucking demons; a distaste for himself. It had begun twenty-eight months ago, while Patrick was in school. He was away form home at a private high school, completing his third year there. Will, who was there as well, had recommended that they both go to a party off campus that he had heard about. They weren’t the coolest of students, truthfully. They were both there because of scholarships they had received for their past academic achievements; everyone else was some rich kid who’s parents couldn’t stand them at home.

Will Sadders was a youth from Ohio who had a history filled with ventures at science fairs and those competitions where players pitted their custom built robots against each other. Pat had come there for similar reasons as well (he was there under a scholarship he had won at a computer’s technology contest).

So they left their dorm and rode in Will’s old beaten van, which he had been given from the uncle he had who worked as a used car salesman. Unfortunately, Will’s uncle wasn’t one to got out and buy his nephew a new and expensive car, so Will was forced into getting a twenty-three year old automobile that his uncle couldn’t sell.

Patrick glanced out an open window, watching the school walls fade into the distant. They rode for thirty minutes until the car started slowing and coughing off an odorous black smoke. Will drove the car to the side of the road and stepped out to examine the damage, lifting the hood only to be suffocated in more smoke. Patrick watched lazily with deep blue eyes. Eventually, Patrick walked over to his side of the car; Patrick lowered his window, “So, what’s the deal with this piece of junk?”

“Um,” said Will, scratching his blonde head, his face dirty, “I don’t know, actually; engine's shrouded in smoke. I guess we’re going to have to continue on foot until we find a pay phone.”

Patrick sighed, “Fine time for the car to stop working; nerd’s aren’t meant to walk long distance.”

“Yeah,” agreed Will, “You’re just going to have to slow down a little for me.”

They were always making jokes like that. Will was your stereotypical nerd: scrawny, smart, glasses, and unfit. Patrick was nothing like that: he was fit and good-looking. He could easily have climbed the social ladder if he had made a few different choices in friends. He just had to act as stupid as the rest of them and he’d be set for invitations to wild parties, but that’s not how he did things.

The two left the car soon afterwards, doors looked and hood down; hopefully no one would steal it. They walked slowly, arriving within the limits of the small town that housed Baymont Academy, the private school they had just left. The nearest phone was beside a dark alley. Will volunteered to make the call, even though they could both swear they could see shapes moving in the shadows of the dark alley beside the phone.

“Make it quick,” advised Patrick.

“Yeah, s-sure thing,” said Will, giving the thumbs up sign; Will always stuttered when he was nervous or scared.

Patrick watched as Will walked with long strides over to the phone booth. He could see clearly that Will was looking into the phonebook for car towing services. Then something looked to be wrong. A shadow grew on the ground, creeping form the alley; Then another, and another.

Patrick opened his mouth to warn Will, but it was too late. Two pale figures garbed in black clothing jumped at the phone booth. Their eyes gleamed red and their fangs shone white in the sunlight. Patrick would’ve rubbed his eyes at that point, to reassure himself that he was really seeing what couldn’t possibly be true. Vampires weren’t real, weren’t they?

Yet instead, Patrick ran over to the phone booth, which had already shattered, and jumped onto one of the figures, knocking it to the ground. They wrestled for about a second before the second one jumped on him, pinning to the ground. Patrick’s face was pushed onto its side onto the concrete that paved the sidewalk. He could see Will, frozen with fear and with a face bloodied by shattered glass, with a hand on the phone and another dangling by his side. Seeing Patrick on the ground seemed to throw him into action though, because he snapped to attention and started dialing numbers onto the receiver.

Then a painful sensation poked into his neck in two places. He winced, suddenly frozen. The vampires were bent over him, and he couldn’t move his neck, which seemed to be the point of interest to them, to get a better view.

He stood there for several minutes, getting weaker by the second, as they took turns biting into him. Then, finally, like a gift from heaven, sirens blared and headlights appeared on the road. The two vampires shot upright, looking to the road then to each other. They left quicker than any man should be able to. Patrick’s head started to feel numb.

There was Will, standing a few feet away talking furiously to a police officer while paramedics attended to putting Patrick in an ambulance. Patrick’s body decided to shut down then, his conscious going into a dreamless slumber.

Patrick woke up two days later in the nearest hospital, and from that day onward he pledged to hunt vampires and stop them from infecting anyone else with the disease he knew he’d just received.

Will was the first to join him on his mission, having witnessed Patrick’s attacking first hand. No one he told would believe him, except for his sister Samantha, who still had enough of her inner child to believe in what others called fantasy.

---
Chapter 5'll be up between now and Sunday.

Chapter 4 of Broken Goddess: Again, very good. I'm getting pretty interested in the story, and Hie.

Part 1 and 2 of Venatio Lamia: Part 1 introduced the characters and their relationships with each other quite well. Part 2 was pretty good; you describe the character's actions and surroundings very well. Nice twist at the end too.