Re: Gods of Shadow (T)
Chapter XIII
WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE the WORLD WAS ABOUT TO END
“Come on, girls! Put your backs into it!”
A pack of swarthy women marched doggedly across patches of tallgrass and under the inconsistent shade of scattered trees. Amongst them were four who carried the carcass of a dead boar, strung up by its feet to a pair of rough-hewn poles. At their head was a haughty woman on a framework of branches, lashed together in the form of a chair with handles instead of feet. Four more women, panting and sweating profusely under the bright sun, bore their leader’s throne, such as it was, though their expressions showed little pride in the act. Presently they neared a particularly large tree with a hopeful pool of shade beneath it.
“Onward! We’re nearly there!” cried their leader from atop her throne.
One by one, the throne-bearers looked at each other and nodded silently. On their unheard cue, they threw the chair forward, dashing it to the ground where their erstwhile leader flailed in a most unladylike fashion.
“Curse you, pitiful, clumsy…” The woman stood, dusting off her clothes. “What’s the meaning of this? Look at my throne! Who will answer for this crime?” The women stared at her collectively, in silent defiance. “I will punish each of you until you do as I say, do you hear me? I am Aveil, Matron of the Gerudo, and I will not be disrespected…!”
“Shut up!” said one of the former throne bearers, mopping her brow with a silk handkerchief she pulled from somewhere under her scant clothing. “Your chair isn’t even broken. We just got tired of your ridiculous shouting. And we’re hungry. Now be quiet; you’ll give our position away.”
Aveil looked at the sun overhead. “Well, I suppose it is lunch-time,” she amended disdainfully. “Yes, I suppose this place is as good as any to rest. Freya, Jooru, go and set up a tent for me in that nice shade over there…”
But the others were ignoring her completely. Gradually, a few of the women organized responsibilities and then began to work with the others; gathering stones for a fire-pit, skinning and hacking apart the boar carcass into manageable chunks, setting up a defensible perimeter and gathering wood for a fire. At first Aveil hovered around the others shouting orders (to do more or less what they were doing anyway) and then one of the others caught her by the wrist, sitting her down beside the opened boar carcass.
“Here,” said the woman, planting a carving knife in her hand. “You’re overdoing it just a bit. Make yourself useful.”
Aveil scowled. Then it seemed she changed her mind. “Yes, I think I should be given the best cut of meat, shouldn’t I? I’ll just choose it myself, shall I?”
The Gerudo had been traveling for over a day, wending always toward the south and Lake Hylia. Hyrule Field had been good to them, supplying them with game once their scant rations had been exhausted. Today there had been a daring hunt, and the boar they now roasted over the fire was their spoils.
The first stop on their nomadic tour of the kingdom of Hyrule would be to visit the great body of water and fill up their skins to the brim. From there, who among them knew how they would continue their plunderous lifestyle? But whenever the women spoke to each other, as they did now over their rewarding meal, their fantasies always involved large quantities of that coveted drink which had been so hard to come by under the rule of their king; water. Not all were content, however, for once Aveil had eaten her fill she stood and raised her arms, calling attention to herself.
“My people,” she called, waiting for the last remnants of conversation to abate. “I know what you’ve been contemplating these past many days—”
“But we only just left yesterday!” called one of the women. A chorus of laughter rebounded throughout the camp.
“Just let me finish!” shouted Aveil indignantly. The women were silent again, though some of them still smirked. “And I have decided as your Matron that we will migrate to the far off lands that lay beyond the great waters!” Aveil paused, waiting for this news to invoke the reaction she expected.
But instead the women just laughed. “That’s where we’re going, you dull-wit,” called one woman. “Lake Hylia’s just around the corner!” “Sit down, let us eat in peace!” called another, and promptly little conversations continued as if they had never left off. But Aveil would have none of this.
“Shut up! All of you!” The camp was silent once more. Aveil’s body shook with anger, her blood pumping quickly to every extremity of her body. “I am not referring to the waters of Lake Hylia. We arrive there soon, but then where? To the coast of the salted sea, far to the southeast! There we will steal a great ship and become pirates to be dreaded and feared on the waters! Where the Gerudo were once cursed to abide oceans of merciless sands, now they will sail out and make oceans of water their new home! We will plunder, and command the winds to steer us to only the most prized treasures, away, always away from this foul place that has haunted our people for generations. Out to the untamed wilds of the free islands we travel, free from worry and care. And we will always have drink from the natural springs and falls, not this polluted water in which the Zoras bathe. No! We’ll have stronger stuff to wet the lips of the Gerudo; wine and ale and any other drink that we can take for ourselves, along with men aplenty and any other pleasure that our free heart's desire.”
It was an impressive speech, and many Gerudo raised their brows in passive acceptance. Yet one among them was decidedly unimpressed.
“You know, Aveil,” said the woman, wiping her mouth on her handkerchief, “I think you’re taking this part a little too seriously. You know you don’t lead us. No one, not woman or man, leads the Gerudo now.”
Aveil suddenly might have lost her confidence for how frantically she looked among the other women in the camp. “But…but you said you would follow me…”
“Follow you, yes,” said another woman resting against the trunk of the tree they camped under. “Once we were out of that Goddess-forsaken desert, though, a lot of us got to talking and we don’t think we really need you. We work just fine on our own. You, on the other hand, seem to not remember what it is to put on an act.” Aveil’s eyes bulged; she could hardly believe what she was hearing. “We’ve let you be our leader to deter anybody who might come across us from thinking we’re just rabble. With a leader we have a purpose, something to fight for, to defend, and so we’re sure to prove tougher opponents. Without one we’re just refugees, grass to be mowed down and taken advantage of. But trust me, if you can’t handle playing the part, we can get someone else.”
“Then… Then you’re saying you can do without me… That I’m just a player in your ruse, is that it? A player being played?” Aveil glanced around her; none of the women confirmed it, but their silence did. “Well, I, at least, remember the ways we used to have. There was order and safety when we had a leader; a real one…”
Several women guffawed. “Are you kidding?” scoffed a Gerudo with a spear. “You know as well as we do that Ganon was a wretched king. And Nabooru, that old crack-pot, was as sun-baked as he was. No, leaders have never done us any favors. But if you don’t think you can live with that, Jooru’s right, you can hoof it on your own.”
Aveil stared, now. Diplomacy hadn’t worked, so she tried intimidation. “And I suppose you’re the next to sit on the throne, do you, Freya? Don’t think I believe your little act; playing the part indeed. You just want to depose me. All of you! Well, it won’t work! I’ll have order in my sisterhood, and whoever wants to challenge me can make it known!” She lifted the carving-knife where she had left it and pointed it out at the crowd of women. “So, who’ll be the first?”
It appeared that none would take her up on the offer. To accept the challenge would be to confirm that Aveil was their leader, and not to would be to suffer Aveil in her delusions of grandeur. Just as it appeared that Aveil would be allowed to keep her position by default, however, the sound of hooves pounding the open field interrupted her reverie.
It was one horse and rider, and an accomplished pair at that. But before the identity of the rider could be pondered, the archers gave each other a wordless cue and they fired off a volley of arrows at the intruder. The rider proved worthy of the challenge, and evaded every last shaft. In answer, there was the twang of a bowstring and an arrow sparkling with frigid magic struck the trunk of the shade-tree. Magical ice instantly encased the tree from roots to branches and every woman was on her feet, her weapon drawn.
“Goddess,” said Freya aloud. “It’s Nabooru. What should we do girls?”
“Stand down,” said Jooru, “let’s see what she wants.”
“Stand down!?” Aveil cawed. “Never! Archers, another volley! Spears, forward. The rest of you around me; protect your Matron. Attack!”
But as the rider neared, the Gerudo women ignored Aveil entirely.
It was indeed Nabooru, but a sterner, harder woman for the wear of recent events. Her silver gauntlet flashed proudly in the sun, and the gem gracing her swarthy brow glittered royally. Now a pair of scimitars were strapped to her back and a full quiver hung from her saddle, all of these assuredly stolen from the Hylian stores, as the mount was from the stables. Nabooru held her bow in one hand where the Ice Ring of the King of the Enchanted Thieves shone dully on her first finger, its gem frosted over with magical cold.
“I come in the name of the proud Gerudo who are even now imprisoned in the dungeons of the Hyrule Castle. I, Nabooru, seek out any who are willing to liberate their sisters from bondage. As for this I give you both a warning and a promise. If you come with me I promise you glory and honor among the races of Hyrule. If you do not, I swear that I will expend my life extinguishing you as traitors to that pride which distinguishes the Gerudo race. Once I am finished there will be none who call themselves Gerudo but those who are faithful to their kin. Who leads among you?” Nabooru demanded. “I do not see Aveil, the Usurper—who leads you, I say?”
Indeed, Aveil was nowhere to be seen; she had taken advantage of the opportunity to escape around the other side of the newly-frozen tree. Now she leapt out, brandishing her carving-knife point-down with the ferocity of a hunting cat.
Aveil had her by surprise, but Nabooru was quick; she flashed out with her foot, disarming the thief before she could inflict any harm. Then one of Nabooru’s scimitars was out of its sheath, the point poised under Aveil’s chin dangerously. For a moment, not a soul dared to move.
“I respect your fearlessness,” Nabooru said finally, her fierce gaze never faltering. “I respond with my own.”
And Nabooru threw the scimitar high in the air, away from her. Before it landed among the tallgrass, Nabooru was off her horse, brandishing the other blade in her hand. But Aveil was already flipping away with both grace and dexterity. Just as Nabooru was upon her, Aveil had drawn the true Matron’s discarded weapon, the clashing swords ringing with the sound of hasty battle.
* * *
Rauru pulled his fur overcoat higher up his neck. He had rarely been outside the boundaries of Hyrule before—having been elected the Hylian Sage when he was just a young man—but on those rare occasions when the kingdom was well cared for and the mood called to him, he enjoyed climbing in the mountain ranges to the north-west, where the frigid temperatures drew snow from the sky almost year-round. Early in his adult life he invested in climbing gear and a thick fur coat for the perilous adventure, and these tools now came in quite handy for his investigation of the northern mountains. This time he ventured forth again. Not for sport, but to find the precious minerals the Gorons needed to survive.
The wind had blown almost constantly since he arrived, and the peaks were as perilous as he remembered them. Checking the magical compass every ten minutes or so, it was only a matter of time before he saw the needle point faintly northward. Now Rauru stuck his walking pole into the snow and drew his white sleeve over his goggles, reading the compass again. Yes, the reading was present, if vague; he was going the right direction.
Unless he was mistaken, Rauru seemed to recall a tall peak nearby, perhaps behind the ridge of mountains that rose before him. He climbed resolutely, never forgetting what it would mean if he failed. Ever onward he trudged, until he crested the mountains and referred to the compass once again. This time it was sure; the needle pointed in the direction of a great spire of rock standing tall against the sky. Rauru remembered the spire, now. Its peak was rumored to be the home of an enormous bird—rarer than any other creature in Hyrule—the legendary Roc.
“Well,” he said aloud to himself. “There’s no sense in dallying. At least I shall discover if the rumors are true.”
* * *
Sea Zoras were a different breed entirely from their fresh-water cousins living in Zora’s Domain. Compared to Sea Zoras, River Zoras might consider themselves more civilized, less brutish (and the vainer among them would certainly say they were more beautiful). The Sea Zoras, by comparison, would say that the River Zoras were flighty, fragile and ‘undecorated’, which here means far less flamboyant in both color and ornamentation. When it came to frills, combs, stalks, barbs and trails, the Sea Zoras were at the ‘profuse’ end of the spectrum. Instead of sleek bodies and finely set scales, they had great thick skins of scaly armor that could hardly be penetrated even by the sharpest of harpoons. Their faces were distorted and far more fishy, with lower jaws that opened and closed like traps, huge bulging eyes and rows of sharp teeth like those of a shark.
More feared than a Sea Zora’s appearance, however, was its saliva. Defying the comprehension of biologists and mages alike, the saliva of a Sea Zora was known to spontaneously combust when exposed to open air. The Sea Zoras would often make effective use of this fact whenever air-dwellers came too far into the open sea; one well-aimed ball of spittle could set combustibles aflame in seconds. They were certainly a fearsome race compared to the River Zora—miles apart in both temperament and actual fact.
For this reason, Lutai balked and hid behind a large stand of coral when she spotted a pair of the gruesome Sea Zoras not far ahead. The ocean waters did not agree with her gills; typically accustomed to filtering fresh water. The saltiness of this water caused her significant discomfort, but it was not insurmountable. If she did not know better, she would have understood why the Sea Zoras were always so ill-tempered.
Despite her misgivings, however, she knew that the faint reading she had seen on her magical compass had led her here, out into the depths of the great sea. Somewhere nearby, there was a deposit of the mineral the Gorons so desperately sought. She suspected it was beyond the daunting pair, through the trench they patiently guarded.
And so Lutai waited. But the Sea Zoras did not move. In fact it appeared that they, too, were waiting for something. There was no way to swim over them without being seen, and the trench had but one opening. She had no idea how far she would have to travel in either direction to find another way, and so the Sea Zoras’ purpose, whatever it was, became her own.
It was not long, however, before a great dark shadow crept over the sea floor and the gruesome Zoras flicked their fins, grinning with their greedy fish-mouths. Lutai looked up to see what they found so pleasing and saw the bottom of a large wooden boat with a great keel out the back; likely some merchant vessel. The Sea Zoras chuckled at each other and darted up over the trench, trailing the vessel just inside the shadow’s cover, following it out to deeper waters. Freed of this obstacle, Lutai pressed on.
The channel was narrow, and the colorful plant-life swirled at her passing. All the while she kept a watchful glance on the compass to tell her where the deposit was to be found. Soon, the trench ended and opening out before her was a great plain under the ocean; what appeared to be miles of submarine variety. And like a dark shadow on the far edge of this plain, there gaped an enormous hole. Taking a quick triangulation of measurements, Lutai confirmed her suspicions; whatever the source of her compass’ reading was near or within that hole.
With Lutai’s strong Zora physique, the miles of submarine plain passed below her in a matter of minutes. The hole was at least as big as the footprint of Hyrule Castle and as Lutai neared she realized it was incredibly deep—hundreds of fathoms down, at least. Finally, as she crested the lip of the opening, Lutai saw that it was not just an underwater shaft, but a hub of sorts off of which many smaller caverns or, perhaps, tunnels led out under the sea floor. The openings were irregularly spaced, and of no uniform size. This told her that at the very least the caves were not purposefully carved, even if they were later taken advantage of by sentient beings. There might be Sea Zoras, she told herself, and gathered her resolve.
Anything could be in those tunnels, she knew, but she had a mission to complete: discover if there were any viable mineral resources south of Hyrule. For the sake of completing her mission, she pressed on. Staying close to one edge of the shaft wall, Lutai wove her way between openings, keeping herself calm and alert for any disturbances in the water. Further and further into the hole she plumbed, the compass confirming her path. Whatever it was leading her to, it was below.
* * *
It took quite some time with snowshoes fixed to his feet, but when Rauru reached his destination he felt the youthfulness of the adventure infuse his body, returning life and spirit to his aging bones. After a short respite he began the treacherous climb that would bring him to his goal. Trading his snow-shoes for toothed boots, he cinched a harness about him, removed his rope from his pack and readied his climbing gear. In no time he was well on his way, feeling every moment like a younger man.
As he climbed, he inhaled the brisk chill air and exhaled his worries. Surely things would be alright. Zelda was safe, Link was on his way to becoming a promising captain, the Gorons would find another food-source and the Goddesses would be with them to fight off the Shadow Gods. Tobias, Rauru’s protégé, had come into his own as the High Priest of the Temple of Time. Rauru could not think of a young man more suited to the position; the monks and parishioners of the Temple were surely in good hands.
The wind whipped, snow scattered like so many tiny, frozen leaves. Up on the sheer face of the Roc’s Peak, with no one to guide, no one to counsel, none to ask his advice or worry him with ill-conceived choices, Rauru found himself enjoying the climb more every minute. But his joy was not meant to last, however, for the closer he came to the height of the spire, the more a feeling of foreboding crept over him. It was not until he had come to a ledge just short of the very peak and he paused to catch his breath that he realized why the feeling had nestled in his heart and would not be shaken.
Curving over the edge of the peak was a huge tapered mass of colorful feathers ending in a jagged yellow stone with a point on its tip that reached directly upward. Under this stone was a pair of blood-red gems that glittered wetly, each of them the size of Rauru’s fist. Finally, two yellow feathers protruded from directly under the gems, making the whole assembly incredibly confusing, to say the least.
But then Rauru reconsidered this incongruous sculpture. The jagged yellow stone was not a stone at all, but a beak. And the glittering gems were not gems, but eyes. The enormous bird that had made the peak its home had watched him all this way and was now staring directly at him, its head curled around so that it was up-side-down, hanging over the edge.
The Roc squawked, and a more terrible sound Rauru had never heard in all his life. Suddenly he did not feel quite so young.
* * *
Without incident, the Sage of Water descended halfway down the shaft before confirming sight of the floor. But to her eyes, accustomed to seeing even in the murky dark, she could still see nothing of interest. Unless the deposit was far larger than she imagined, it was nowhere to be seen.
Only when she reached the silted, swirling depths of the hole did Lutai finally concede that she could not see what she was looking for. Was it buried? Could the reading be incorrect? She ran the gamut of possibilities, cross-checking the compass for confirmation, circling the floor of the hole until she was able to pinpoint the object’s location. To her dismay, the source was significantly smaller than she had anticipated, hardly enough to feed even one Goron for much longer than a few days. But only after she had scooped in the mud for some time did she discover what the compass had led her down here to find.
It was a chest.
Even with the possibility of what the chest might contain, it was not what she had hoped for, and her finned shoulders drooped despondently. There was no mineral deposit after all, only the metal fittings of the chest, surely made from that ore that was found so often as an alloy with the minerals the Gorons consumed. The two substances must register as magnetically identical. Lutai regretted that she would have nothing to report when she returned but an old sunken chest.
Still, since she had already found it…
There was a lock on the chest, but its maker had clearly not intended it to withstand prolonged exposure to the eroding effects of salt-water; its brittle composition allowed it to be easily broken off with a few knocks of a stone Lutai found nearby. But the chest itself was remarkably well preserved. The wood must have been treated and the fittings were, of course, of the rare metal that was tempered by the Gorons to withstand many extremes. For this reason, as Lutai opened it, she was not surprised to find that air escaped from the compartment within. She was surprised, however, that other than the trapped air, the chest was empty. Lutai watched disappointedly as the bubbles of air drifted up, up through the shaft, seeking out the surface of the water. It was only then that she saw the many Sea Zoras gathering in the shaft, far above her.
Lutai caught herself, stifling the instinct to panic; after a few moments she realized that, thus far, none of the gruesome Zora had noticed her. Instead, they hovered where they were, expectant, waiting for something, always directing their gazes upward. Soon, Lutai saw what they were waiting for; a dark shadow pushed itself into view over the rim of the shaft opening and as it teetered on the edge Lutai could see the thin lines of a mast, the shredded remnants of a pair of sails. The Sea Zoras were casting a ship down into the hole!
* * *
Rauru planted himself against the edge of the peak, careful not to make any sudden movements. The Roc tilted its head to one side, trying to get a view of the intruder in its sky-top realm. But dexterity is not the strong point of a Roc’s physique, and after trying unsuccessfully to look at the bundled man upright, the bird left off, no longer interested. Rocs, terrible as they are, are also not very bright.
After he was certain that the Roc would not reappear, Rauru poked his head up, venturing a glimpse of the Roc’s nest. There was a mass of sticks, to be sure, if they could even be called sticks. A copious nest, it was, woven of small trees and a strong matting of feathers and caked mud. It was the size of half the nave and as tall as the grand staircase of the Temple of Time itself. Only just peeking over the edge of this nest were several whitish mounds. Rauru thought ‘whitish’ for he couldn’t be certain whether they were covered in snow. Whatever the case, he decided, they were certainly Roc eggs, and there were at least five of them at that. Now the Roc was nuzzling her unborn young compassionately and Rauru felt only a little afraid. Mostly he was awed indeed at having beheld such a rare and precious creature, fearsome though it was.
Presently, there was a monstrous crack! and Rauru started, nearly stumbling from his perilous perch. Before he could think there was yet another crack! and then another, until Rauru realized he was witnessing the births of many baby Rocs. Their sharp beaks punctured their shells, their slimy heads protruding into the frigid air. This did not seem to faze them, however, and great wafts of steam rose from them, sending the smell of newborn animal into the wind. The mother Roc inspected each of her young carefully, focused entirely on their wellbeing for the moment.
Rauru reconsidered the magical compass and was both reassured and daunted. He had reached his goal; the needle pointed straight and true—directly at the nest of the enormous bird. Whatever he sought was certainly either in or under the Roc’s nest, and he knew he could not leave until he had discovered what it was. His only task now would be to find a way into the nest without being torn to bits as food for the Roc’s newly born children.
But as fate would have it, Rauru need not have worried. For, presently, the Roc lifted its head and an enchanting sound escaped its throat; a lullaby to its young. The song was moving, if a little loud, and the new chicks cheeped sleepily, finally falling silent one by one. The Roc mother eyed her young one last time before leaping into the air with a powerful downdraft of her wings, no doubt to find something to feed to her children when they awoke.
* * *
Collecting her nerves, Lutai cast about for an avenue of escape; if they did not know she was there, they would have no trouble crushing her under the ship. Answering her description of a way out, she found a relatively narrow crevice in the side of the shaft, just near the floor, in which she could hide. From this vantage point, Lutai watched as the cruel Zoras guided the vessel down, down to the floor of the shaft where they immediately began tearing the boat apart.
The mast came off first, followed by the rudder and the prow. Each plank of the hull was violently ripped from its place and sent up and away into one of the various caverns that led off the shaft-hub. The whole operation was done with such coordination and precision, Lutai was certain that these monsters had performed this very act on countless other ships, though as to why they would dismantle a wrecked ship she could not tell.
Not, at least, until she saw the scorch marks on the planks that the creatures carried away. One haughty Sea Zora, carrying such a plank in his twisted scaly arms, turned to another and gloated loudly:
“I started this one on fire, I did! This plank’s goin’ with six others in the Grotto!”
The other one chuckled. “That’ll teach those merchants whose territory this is…”
Lutai gasped; the Sea Zoras were not simply harvesting ships that had already sunk, but actively destroying vessels that had invaded their waters!
“Crank! Get over here, now!” commanded a well-decorated Zora; out of his head and arms grew great frills of red and orange. In response, a particularly brutish-looking Zora emerged from the wreckage bearing a chest from the ship’s lower decks.
“Take all of the treasure to my cabin!” the frilled Zora commanded. “And tell that fool of a slave, Mica, that I expect it all to be sorted by meal-time or he’ll get none of this morning’s catch!” Crank growled in response and obeyed his master’s orders.
Mica! Lutai’s heart fluttered. She could almost not believe the gift the Goddesses had just bestowed on her; Mica was alive! But surely it could not be her Mica…or could it? She had no time to waste on uncertainty. If there was even a chance that her life could be spent saving the Zora she thought she had lost so long ago, she could never live with herself afterwards if she did not try.
Memorizing the tunnel Crank had entered, Lutai waited patiently until the floor of the hole had been cleared of every last scrap of the ruined ship. Only then, when the Sea Zoras had finished their destructive ritual, did Lutai venture out, slipping silently, secretly out of the Sea Zora’s Domain and into the open ocean once again. She would only have once chance at rescuing Mica, and she would need help.
But suddenly, through the wide expanse of water, Lutai heard a sound that made her stop. A school of fish whipped by, frenzied by some sensed danger. But looking around, Lutai knew that it was not the Sea Zoras, or any other thing in the ocean which perturbed the submarine animals. No, the danger was not below, but above.
Breaking the surface of the water to see it more clearly, Lutai gazed at the sky to the north-east and understood what had induced the animals to panic.
* * *
With the mother gone, it was an easy thing for Rauru to creep up on the nest. Still, he would have to be careful when he climbed inside. The young Rocs, though merely babies, were still as big as horses and surely hungry as any newborn child; he would have to avoid waking them or he was as good as so much fresh meat.
As he peered over the rim of the Roc’s nest, he saw that there were precisely seven chicks. They were all huddled to one side, no doubt to take advantage of their mutual heat, and their shells were all cracked open and strewn about their woven bed of trees and feathers. Consulting the compass again, Rauru saw that the object he was searching for lay to the right, precisely where the chicks were huddled. He cursed his luck, but pressed on, climbing into the wooden bowl with nary a peep from his hosts.
Walking on eggshells is one thing when the shells are smaller than your feet. As it was, Rauru found it relatively easy to avoid the larger hunks of Roc shell and quickly closed the distance between himself and his goal. Now the only trouble was to extricate whatever the compass pointed to without disturbing the enormous birds. Rauru knelt on the nest floor, peering between bird bodies and straining to see anything of significance. Twice, three times he knelt and still nothing. It was not until he had made his way to the far side of the nest that he saw what he first took to be a huge shield with two great holes in it. Upon further inspection he realized that it was not a shield, but an enormous mask, perfectly sized and shaped to accommodate the head of a Roc. Rauru immediately consulted the compass; the mask was what he had come so far to find.
It was battered and cracked in many places, but the portions of the mask that were still in good condition made it evident that it was made by skilled, deliberate hands. And for such a rare creature as a Roc, someone must have made this mask as a gift of appeasement, as to a god. Or, perhaps, strange as it was to think, as a part of a harness and bridle. While taming a Roc was a concept Rauru was not acquainted with, he wondered that it might even be attempted. In any case, the mask was particularly worn, suggesting that it had seen some use. And by the nature of the damage, Rauru suspected some bludgeoning, some explosive force as the primary causes. But not knowing what else to do with the Roc’s mask, he left it where it was.
And none too soon, as well, for there was a loud screech on the frosty air announcing the return of the Roc mother. Rauru had no time to escape, and so he lifted up the largest plate of eggshell he could find and tilted it against the nest wall, using it as impromptu cover. He felt the nest shudder as the enormous bird landed, and shortly the mother’s calls were answered by the hungry peeps of the chicks, just now awakening.
Rauru heard the slurping sounds of the parent feeding her children, and he knew it would be some time before the Roc would leave. Having discovered what the compass had led him to and having nothing to show for it, he wondered whether there was some other thing he might take with him as proof of his adventure. His mind immediately fell on the feathers padding the nest below him; surely none could doubt his tale if he recovered even one Roc’s feather.
Tucking his chosen prize inside his coat, Rauru was about to concede his mission as finished when to one side there was the clatter of wood on wood. He peered out from under his eggshell and first spotted something shiny and green; a crystal prism with a faint glow pulsing weakly within. Nearby, he also saw a bundle of broken sticks bound up by shredded cloth; some prize the Roc had brought back to the roost. Rauru made nothing of this, but then he realized that something else was bound to the bundle:
A fine mask made of exquisite porcelain depicting a woman’s knowing face.
* * *
Deep at the base of the Lone Island, on the bed of Lake Hylia, a lone Zora scout swooped through the water, hovering around a curious motionless woman. She wore an expression of anger and malice, and her feet were weighed down by heavy steel boots. In one hand the scout held his fishbone spear.
“What are you doing here?”
The Zora scout turned, pointing his spear at the one who had spoken. But as soon as he did he relaxed. “Oh, Mica, it’s just…” Then the scout’s fishy eyes bulged in his head. “Mica…!? I thought you were…”
“Dead?” said Blue, for it was that Shadow behind the mask of the deceased Zora warrior. “No, I was just…captured,” he invented.
“Captured!?” the scout exclaimed. “But you’ve been gone forever! Who captured you?”
“Pirates,” the false Zora explained frankly. The Zora looked at Blue sidelong for a moment, but seemed to accept this explanation. “Who’s this, anyway?”
“Don’t know,” said the scout, turning to the motionless woman. “Looks like whoever she is, she’s not here by choice, though. I’ve already notified the Domain; they’re on their way. See those boots? That’s what’s keeping her down here. But her face is angry, contorted. There must have been a conflict. She didn’t jump in, she was bewitched. Whoever did this to her probably pushed her in…”
While the scout explained his theories, Blue was busy monitoring his surroundings. All was quiet; there were no other scouts nearby. “All very interesting,” said Blue finally. “Say, I saw something just now over by the sluice. Could you check it out with me? I’m afraid I haven’t anything to protect myself with and being abducted by pirates makes one a little wary…”
“Oh, of course! I mean, anything for you, Mica,” the Zora smiled cordially. “I’m just glad you’re back! We’ve sure missed your stories around the Domain.”
As they swam away from the Lone Island, Blue lagged just behind. When they were close enough to the sluice he would ram the unsuspecting Zora against the stone bank and hide his body in the mud. No loose ends.
“You know who’ll be really happy to see you, Mica?” the scout asked conversationally.
“Who’s that?” asked Blue, obliged to catch up so as not to appear suspicious.
The Zora chuckled. “Come on, Mica, who do you think?”
“Lu Lu?” Blue said tentatively. This was getting too risky; any more questions and he would be found out for sure.
“Oh, so you two had pet-names, huh? So what’d Lutora call you, then?”
Blue was becoming increasingly nervous. His shadow memory didn’t include anything about the life of the Zora he was impersonating. “Um…Mickey…” he invented. “Lutora called me Mickey.” They were coming very close to the sluice, now. Blue wouldn’t be able to fall back again without arousing suspicion. He would have to think of another plan or be ready to fight.
“I was always jealous of you two, you know,” said the scout. “But I really wanted to punch you in the mouth for the way you treated her, sometimes.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Blue noncommittally. He clenched his arm muscles, bending his fins forward so the sharp under-edge was exposed. The scout slowed, approaching the rushing waters of the sluice.
“But you know what’s really rubbing my gills the wrong way about you right now?” The scout turned, holding his spear upright.
Blue quickly released his muscles, allowing the fins to relax; he had almost been caught. “No, what’s that?” Blue replied with deliberate nonchalance.
“Mica never told stories; he composed poetry. His woman’s name wasn’t Lutora; it was Lutai. I never wanted to punch Mica in the mouth for how he treated her, either; he was always the consummate gentleman.” The scout was straight-faced. “And Mica never had a tattoo.”
And as if a starting bell had rung, Blue flipped over in the water and swam rapidly in the opposite direction. Without a fraction of a moment lost, the scout was directly behind him. Blue recognized the powerful swimming strength in the body he possessed, but the scout was infinitely more accustomed to maneuvering underwater, and it took all of Blue’s presence of mind not to be impaled on the spear more than once.
“Who are you? Speak, imposter!” the scout shouted.
Blue did not respond, but circled around the base of the Lone Island, dragging one fin across the saturated mud at its base. A thick cloud of silt bloomed into the water, but the scout pressed on through the cloud, undaunted in his pursuit.
“I’m no one to be trifled with, peon!” Blue shouted back. “If you do not let me leave in peace you will regret having matched with me!” Now the Shadow darted around a fragile coral, dashing it to pieces with one swipe of his arm-fin.
The scout evaded the razor-sharp shards of coral with expert precision. “As I can see by the fact that you’re trying to escape me, imposter! Turn yourself in and the dukes will be merciful. Flee and I am duty-bound to pursue you! May Nayru grant you the wisdom to concede.”
“Hah!” Blue taunted, and he dodged the scout’s spear again. Then, he just caught sight of something to one side, half-buried in fresh sediment. His quick Zora eyes told him immediately what it was:
A net.
Darting with erratic movements, Blue lured the scout closer, and yet closer. He could leave him no time to evade. Finally, he swooped down on the net, blending the movement into a quick spiral as he doubled back around a tall stone column, clenching the center of the net in his webbed hands. Then he doubled back yet again, charging straight for the stone column, the scout following close on his flippers. Faster, still faster, spiraling again, now Blue darted up, leaping out of the water like a dolphin. The scout followed closely behind, breaking the surface with terrible velocity. Instantly, Blue let go the net and it flew out wide from the centrifugal force, catching the scout full on. The ropes wrapped around the Zora’s body immediately, pinning his arms and legs. Blue splayed every fin on his body, planing through the frigid air with just enough force to miss the stone column by a narrow margin.
The Zora scout was not as lucky.
After Blue had reentered the lake’s welcoming warmth, he recovered the spear from the scout’s unobjecting hands and returned to the base of the Lone Island. He gave the motionless woman only passing consideration and ducked into the entrance-cavity leading to the underwater temple. Within, he found that the door was already open.
Blue swore: the Shadow God was already inside.
__________________
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Every legend contains its residuum of truth, and the root function of language is to control the universe by describing it. ~ James Baldwin
11-16-2009, 09:39 AM
I hope the sequel will be just as if not better than this. Knowing you, I'm sure it will.
But this is the last episode. 
