Legend of Zelda 1. Malchadia

"Duck!" Link shouted to his troops and dived down behind a rock outcropping just as a large explosion claimed a nearby house. Flaming debris was hurled up in the air and landed on his back, but the pain was hardly felt. What he and felt the most was the searing heat; it was as if hell had broken loose.  
  
"Where did that come from?" one of the troops ducking next to Link shouted.  
  
"I don't know; I can't see anything, but I tell you one thing: whoever sent it will be dead in a little while," Link responded and drew his bow. Another moment and an arrow was nocked across the taut string. Sparing a few moments out of hiding, he found a good target: a mounted enemy Malchadite racing up to one of the village's women, intent on hewing off her head.  
  
The Malchadite stopped short when Link's arrow penetrated his neck and carried him off of his steed. He fell under the legs of the horse and was crushed immediately. After great struggle to escape its rider's tangling body, the animal reared up and took off into the shadows of the night, leaving the dead man and his comrades behind.  
  
Link shot a few more arrows as cover to himself before he jumped out from behind the rock and ran up to the woman. "Come on!" he shouted and grabbed her hand. "You'll be safer over with us." Because of the shock of her near death experience, Link practically dragged the villager to where the rest of his men were hiding.  
  
Safely behind the rock, Link drew his sword and raised it in the air. The firelight glinted off the blade as he shouted, "Listen up, you guys. After the next bomb drops I want you to bolt out of here and engage the enemy sword to sword; it's the only way we have a chance to win." The next bomb blew and a great roar rose up from his troops as they drew their own weapons and charged out from behind their hiding place to meet the enemy in hand-to-hand combat.  
  
Immediately, two enemy Malchadites ran up to attack Link, but both fell dead at the blade of his sword. "I love this sword," he murmured and stared at its red stained blade. His sword was the most lethal of swords, for it was forged from Death Mountain, made by the greatest metalworker, Biggoron. The unparalleled sharpness and the elegant designs covering each side of the blade down to the hilt made Galadhad the most coveted of weapons.  
  
A loud cry brought his attention to the world behind him. Link saw one of his men lying on the ground, a Malchadite standing over him with his sword in the air, ready to strike at any moment. Springing into action, Link pulled the only other weapon of his off his belt, aimed it, and sent the harpoon on the hookshot straight into the Malchadite's sword hand. As the shot retracted, the enemy was pulled along with it until he was staring up into Link's deadly eyes. "Goodnight," Link said coldly and brought his hand down across his adversary's face, knock him out or perhaps killing him.  
  
Another explosion rocked the ground and incinerated another house. Running away from the newly created fire were two Hylian warriors. One was the commander and the other an ordinary soldier. "We need to get the Malchadites out of town!" the commander shouted. "There are too many people around that might get hurt if we don't do something soon."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Link agreed. "But there is no end to these guys; you kill one, and two more take his place. The most we can do is stand our ground and hope they run out of men before we do."  
  
The other man grimaced. "With the casualties we've experienced that better come very soon. Otherwise we won't have any troops left."  
  
Link didn't know how to respond to that, so he gave them one order: to continue fighting until not one enemy remained standing. "We won't lose yet." The men hurried off into the blackness to resume fighting with the nearest foe they could find. "Not while I'm still alive," he murmured.  
  
Link ran where there was the most congestion of Malchadites and quickly cleared that area. These people aren't good fighters, he thought. They only win because they fight in groups and outnumber their opponents.  
  
A number of battle cries brushed by his ears. Coming his way were two Malchadite warriors with a number of pitchfork-wielding farmers on their heels. Link couldn't help but smile.  
  
He had better get rid of the enemy before they figured out that they outclassed their pursuers. Ducking in between two large buildings, the dark night and heavy shadows covered him with their foggy hands. The black attire he wore simply added to his invisibility.  
  
As the two fleeing Malchadites charged by the opening in the buildings, Link thrusted Galadhad out, cleanly severing the head of the nearest enemy and cutting a fourth of the way through the neck of the farthest one. Moments later, the outraged farmers were upon the survivor and killed him.  
  
Always intrigued by different armor styles, Link took precious time to scrutinize that of the Malchadite. The dead man wore a leather helmet, leather armor, and the strangest pair of boots he has ever seen-a fairly light load for this type of warfare. Bending down to get a closer inspection of the footwear, Link wracked his brain until he remembered the style of shoe before him; they were cloth moccasins designed to cushion the ground under the wearer and make travel noiseless. Usually they weren't used unless the person was crossing over leaves or something that could crackle under feet, like crossing through a forest...  
  
Then something in the back of his mind clicked as the information settled in. There were only two entrances into this town: one was the regular entrance that overlooked miles upon miles of flat prairie grounds-no one could ever walk over those fields without being seen ten miles away. The other entrance was a large gate at the back of town that entered into a thick forest. He had a strong hunch that the stream of Malchadites was coming from the back gate. Also, with autumn stiffening the leaves and sending them tumbling to the ground, the only way to navigate silently through a forest heavy-laden with leaves unheard would be to wear some form of cushioning footwear. With great excitement and hope that his idea is correct, Link worked his way to the far end of the town. "Close the gate! Close the gate!"  
  
Another explosion rocked the ground, nearly sending him to his knees. Someone had better find whoever thinks it's amusing to blow buildings sky high before *I* do! The heat from more burning houses washed over his face and the splinter of wood rang all around him. The commander was right: if the battle weren't moved, Bolragade would be lost.  
  
Link reached the short flight of stone stairs that led up to the metal gate. As he ran up the steps, enemies ran down to meet him, swords held high. Unfortunately for the Malchadites, when they reached the ground, they each had a thin, vertical hole in their chests. Shouts drifted down from the top near the gate as a chain of soldiers raced to the village floor. There did not seem to be an end to that chain, either. Thinking quickly, he pulled out Galadhad and sliced the chock that held the gate in its open position. A metallic clang signaled the gate had been closed, and Link saw only a few enemies rushing toward him and assumed the rest were trapped on the other side.  
  
The ten troops not caught by the gate's closing formed a circle around Link, all with their swords, clubs, staffs, anything that could inflict damage, drawn. The way the men held themselves, in anger and rage, was more than enough to say they were thoroughly unhappy. The first soldier ran up to Link and traded blow after blow with metal against metal before the Malchadite spluttered to the ground to rest eternally. Two more were dispatched similarly. At the sight of Link running into the middle of the circle with his sword raised above his head, an orange glow surrounding it, they paused.  
  
Not sure what to expect, the fighters charged forward in unison to attack Link, but the stored energy in his glowing blade came forth, forming a perfect orange circle which enveloped the soldiers and severed their upper bodies from their lower. The orange cloud extended so far as to touch a few of the Malchadites behind the gate; there were quite a few half-bodies and spare hands lying on the ground.  
  
Link turned to the survivors on the gate's other side. Most were running back into the forest, screaming as if a demon was on their tail. Oh well, he thought. Let them flee. Maybe they can inform their leader of what they're up against and leave Hyrule alone.  
  
Turning around, Link watched another house erupt in flame. The residents were frantically running from the wreckage, hoping to get to another shelter. This time, though, from the brightness of the explosion, he saw exactly where the Malchadite bomber was: on top of the town's inn, the Boar's Back, in the town center. This man will pay. The Hylian general yanked out his hookshot and shot after shot pulled himself onto a building next to the inn.  
  
Silently, he climbed the rest of the way to and up the large structure. With the bomber fully absorbed in his own activities, Link easily sneaked up behind the Malchadite. Grabbing the poor man with one arm, Link held him up to eye level by the collar of his shirt. The Malchadite tried to bring a knife out of the folds of his coat, but Link grabbed his arm and twisted it till it was no use. The fright was plain on the man's face. "Please, don't kill me," he begged.  
  
Link laughed a cold, bitter laugh. "You burn these buildings and the people in them to ashes." The acid was clear in his voice. "You take pleasure in slaughtering the residents of this town, my town, and watching them suffer." He now had the man hanging over the edge of the tall, four-story building. "You do not deserve to be saved." He let go of the enemy and watched as his body fell the large distance to hit the ground with a loud crack. He didn't get up after that.  
  
Link picked up the bag containing the bombs and jumped from building to building until he safely landed on the ground. The bombs were disposed of in the well where they detonated harmlessly in the water.  
  
"General!" someone shouted. It was the commander. "The Malchadites have surrendered. Should we take them alive or...not?"  
  
After a long pause and thought, Link answered, "Take them alive; we'll need them for information. Round them up and get them out as soon as possible." Link turned to walk back to the front of Bolragade. At least with the battle over he could be home with his wife.  
  
In less than an hour the surrendering Malchadite soldiers were marching out of town, shackles around their ankles. Some looked relieved to be alive and others like they would rather be dead. The morose-looking men knew the consequences of war and also knew that once information of this battle leaked out, no Hylian would go easy on them.  
  
Link watched as the surviving Hylian troops marched confidently out into the green fields where they would assemble before the trip back to Hyrule Castle. He smiled at the new victory he could add to his plethora of other victories and started making his way out to the pasture, but a shrill shriek echoed through the town from the unburned section, stopping him in mid-stride. He turned to face the direction of the scream, fists clenched till his knuckles were white. This was not going to be good for the man who caused the scream, Malchadite or not.  
  
He proceeded through the crowds of villagers frantically trying to put out the fires, and to the group of untouched houses. Now, if only he knew exactly where the scream came from. He looked through the first alley between the closest two houses; nothing. The second and third also had the same results.  
  
But, in the fourth alley were two people: a teenage girl, no more than sixteen, and an enemy soldier who seemed to want something from the girl that she didn't want to give. Link hid in the shadows and silently stalked up to the pair. Just as the Malchadite placed his hands on her shirt and began to tear it open, Link reached out his arms, encircling them around the man's neck. A quick twist and the man fell to the ground, dead.  
  
"Are you okay?" Link asked the girl. Now that his eyes were adjusted to the darkness, he noticed that the girl had blond hair cascading down to her lower back, shining blue eyes, and the well-formed body of a seventeen-year-old.  
  
"I'll be fine. Thank you," she said in a shaky voice. Only a trace of tears could be seen on her face. She tried to button up her shirt as best she could, but there were a few gaps where the buttonhole met no button. "My name's Jesika."  
  
"Link. General Link." He held out his hand and took her own, shaking it and then remembered something. "I better get you back to your family. With all of the commotion going on, they must be worried sick. Where do you live?"  
  
At the mention of the word "family", her eyes fell to the ground. "My family's dead. They...they died years ago...when I was little." She paused briefly, reminiscing back to her younger years. "I was wondering: I have nowhere to go and...well, could you take me to Hyrule Castle with you? I know how to cook and do laundry, and I won't be a problem."  
  
He thought about it and finally nodded. "Sure. When we get to Hyrule Castle, I'll see what I can do." He turned and started walking away. "Come on, we're leaving now." Jesika followed him out of the village to where the group of warriors had assembled.  
  
When Link was out in the field, a group of warriors rushed up to him with cheers and smiles. A roar of shouts was directed in his direction, but he had no idea what anyone said. He sighed and smiled and ran up on a nearby hill. When everyone had finally stopped talking, he said, "Great job, you guys. We sure showed those Malchadites, didn't we?" A loud outburst of affirmative cries drowned out the next few sentences of Link. "Tomorrow, we'll head back to Hyrule Castle. I'm sure your families will be dying to see you again. But, until then, take the rest of the night for time to yourselves."  
  
Another large cheer rose from the Hylian soldiers as Link descended from the hilltop and rejoined Jesika, this time with fatigue heavy on his eyes. He walked with a slight stagger. "I am extremely tired, so I'm going to sleep soon. You're more than welcome to sleep in my tent-you might want to with some of the looks that the men are giving you-if you don't mind sleeping in close quarters."  
  
Noticing some of the glances aimed her way Jesika quickly replied, "I think I'll take your tent." She had never met anyone interested in anything *but* her body, and she knew what a man's interest could be like, as proven with the all-hands Malchadite. She followed him to the center of the celebrating men where a few tents had been pitched. Link walked into the biggest of the tents and she followed.  
  
"Make yourself at home," Link said. "And try to get some rest; we'll be leaving early tomorrow. I'll be outside for a little while. After all, a general should celebrate with his men." He gave a tired smile and left, leaving her alone. Along the back of the tent was a pile of sleeping bags and blankets. She grabbed one of each and laid it out on the ground near the center. That way, if someone entered the tent from any direction, she could keep a half-tent length between that person and her.  
  
She removed her shirt and skirt, folding and laying them neatly by the sleeping bag. The crisp night air felt cold on her skin, and she hurried to slip in between the folds of the bag. Soon sleep fell on her like a bird on its prey.  
  
  
  
A strong push on her shoulder roused her from her dreamless sleep. When she rolled on her side to face the other way, the pushing only got worse. "Wake up," someone spoke. The voice sounded somewhat like Link's. "We'll be leaving in a short while."  
  
Oh. Jesika wearily opened her eyes and propped her body up on an elbow. "I'm up, I'm up. Just give me enough time to dress before you collapse the tent." When she was once again alone, she left the covers sprawled on the floor and put on her clothes. She couldn't wait to get to the Castle so she could get a new shirt; she had no intention of letting people stare at something they shouldn't be staring at.  
  
She yawned, stretched, and walked out of the tent into the gentle glow of the morning's red sun. She couldn't find Link anywhere. "Link!" she shouted into the crowd, drawing nearly everyone's attention. Oops. She was about to say something to the men, but a melodic neigh cut off her retort.  
  
A large, beautiful brown horse stopped at her side. On it rode Link. "Come on," he said. "You can ride up here with me on Epona. Link pulled her up to sit behind him in the leather saddle. "Hold on tight," he said as Epona bolted to the front of the now marching group.  
  
"You might want something to eat," Link advised, handing her a piece of meat. "It's the only food we'll have until we get home."  
  
"Thanks," Jesika said and dived in on the strip of meat, realizing how famished she really was. "How long until we get to Hyrule Castle?"  
  
"It'll be quite a while," he answered. "Probably not until sundown. If you get bored, watch the scenery. That's what I do."  
  
For the first hour, watching nature roll by was fascinating, but quickly after it got dull. For another hour, Jesika's thoughts traveled over to her home village. She remembered walking home from her daily walk that night many days ago when men came running down from the forest and attacked. She ran into a store and stayed there under siege for the next few days, not daring to come out for fear of losing her life. Then, after what felt like years, the enemy had disappeared, and she walked out only to be jumped by one of the attacking soldiers. Fortunately Link showed up and did something she could not: take care of herself.  
  
She rested her head against his back and drifted off to sleep.  
  
  
  
She woke up when a loud whiny rang in her ears. "What is it?" Jesika asked as she opened her eyes, taking in the trees and hills. Over the many rolling hills and past the tumbling plains stood Hyrule Castle, bathed in the red glow of the sun.  
  
"Sorry to wake you; you looked so relaxed, but I thought you might want to see what a sunset on the Hylian Plains looked like. What do you think of it?"  
  
"It's gorgeous," she breathed, taking in the orange mountain tops and the red grass in their entirety. "I've never seen anything like it."  
  
Link smiled. "It gets even better at the Castle. If we can get there before the sun goes down, you'll get a real sight. Hold on." Jesika strengthened her grip around his stomach as Epona charged forward, leaving clouds of dirt in her wake.  
  
No more than an hour later, Epona and her riders reached the drawbridge leading to Hyrule Village. But instead of dismounting and crossing through, they took a side trail that led around the fortified wall directly to the Castle. "Hmm, no one's here. Probably didn't know we would be here so soon. Well, let's go in and give them a surprise."  
  
They dismounted and Epona ran off the graze in the beautiful pastures. Jesika experienced a wave of envy as she compared these luscious green pastures filled with rows of flowers of every kind to the dull brown fields that grew near her home. Now she believed her fellow villagers when they said these meadows were one of the most gorgeous sights a person can see in his or her lifetime.  
  
Link made his way to the main gate. Since it was open, he proceeded in and entered into the foyer. "You live here?" Jesika asked, gaping at the marvelous paintings and marble statues decorating the room. She tried not to set her feet on the elegant tiled floor for fear of putting smudges on the perfect white stone.  
  
"Yeah, this is the Palace. Come on, I'll introduce you to Zelda." He was about to start down one of the many halls when two figures emerged from a room. One was a palace guard and the other was a very beautiful woman. Both were deeply engrossed in a conversation about something she couldn't hear.  
  
"Oh, you're home!" the woman exclaimed. A pang of jealousy washed through Jesika as the woman rushed up to Link and kissed him. She wore a pink and white dress with her shiny blond hair tied up in a bow and a diamond studded tiara that made all other jewelry look cheap and pathetic. Jesika presumed that this was Zelda.  
  
"I want you to meet someone," Link said after he broke the kiss. He turned to blond girl at his side. "Zel, this is Jesika, someone I met and who I promised a place to work at the Castle. Jesika, this is Princess Zelda."  
  
"Hi," Zelda said, smiling charmingly. "We'll find you a place to work, I'm sure. Can you cook? We're in great need of people who know how to prepare food." Jesika answered positively. "Good, I'll have Alcabar take you over to the kitchen. The head chef should give you something to start on right away, if you're not too tired. Or you can start tomorrow. Your choice." Alcabar, the Palace guard, stepped out from the doorway he never left and directed the young girl down one of the halls to where the kitchen was located.  
  
"What are you doing home so early?" Zelda asked, once they were alone. "No one was expecting you for at least another two days. We are not yet ready for the reception banquet."  
  
"The attack wasn't as large as anyone thought it would be. Besides, the Malchadites surrendered halfway into the battle. Cowards." Then a thought came to Link as he felt his stomach growl. "Can I have something to eat? I'm starved."  
  
"Oh, you poor thing," Zelda teased. "Go to our room; I'll have a meal delivered to you."  
  
"Huh.... What about you?"  
  
She smiled at him. "Since you and all of the soldiers are back, Daddy will want the banquet's planning to be done immediately so we can celebrate the victory with it still being fresh in your minds. And since I'm taking charge of the planning and setup for this event, I have to make sure nothing goes wrong. I probably won't be back until after midnight, so don't stay awake for me." She kissed him goodbye and rushed down one of the halls as fast as her legs could carry her.  
  
There were many other questions that he wanted to ask but would have to ask them later. He might as well get a good night's sleep; the battle fatigue still hadn't left him, and he was tired.  
  
Link walked through the maze of halls until he arrived at two large wooden doors: his palatial suite. The first room opened up into a large living room. A couch was in the middle with many shelves topped with plates, silverware, anything else Zelda fancied to show resting against the walls. But he walked straight into his bedroom to where a large dresser stood. In it, he set his sword, shield, bow, quiver, and hookshot and sighed in relief. It felt like a large granite block had been taken off his back after his small arsenal had been put away.  
  
He then walked into the bathroom and filled the marble tub with hot water. The heat felt good against his skin as he dipped himself into the deep tub. All of the aches and pains dissipated almost instantly as the hot water massaged his sore muscles. Just before he was about to fall asleep, movements in the next room entered his ears. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered to investigate, but his battle instincts were still fresh in his mind, so Link jumped out of the tub and ran into the bedroom in the process of tying a towel around his waist.  
  
He really shouldn't have bothered; the sounds he heard was the meal being delivered to his room. Abandoning his bath, Link sat on the bed to eat the two steaks, the large green salad, and the fish strips that made up his dinner. After he finished, Link wheeled the cart out to the other room so it could be taken back to the kitchen.  
  
With his stomach full of food and his body relaxed, fatigue took its toll even harder. Link lethargically took off the towel wrapped around his body and laid down on the bed. He barely got under the blankets before he was enveloped in sleep.  
  
  
  
A loud metallic clang reverberated through the room, causing Link to bolt out of bed, battle senses at maximum. What were those sounds? he asked to himself. Surely no one would be awake at this hour in the night. Another series of clashes echoed throughout the bedroom, followed by loud shouts. He wished he didn't have to, but Link saw he would have to go down and find the two who were disrupting his first peaceful night in days.  
  
He donned his elegant robe and grabbed a dagger, making sure it was concealed in one of its folds; no point in going into a possible fight unprepared. If it got intense, he might need the weapon. Just as he was about to walk out of the suite, he looked at his bed to make sure Zelda was still asleep. To his amazement, the bed was completely empty. She must still be planning for the celebration everyone seemed to be making a fuss about.  
  
Link made his way through the labyrinth of halls and passages and stairs until he was on the bottom level of the Castle. Now, where was the most likely place those idiots would be? Fortunately, he didn't have to think long for the clangs again sounded through the room. This time, he knew exactly where they were coming from: the garden.  
  
Walking out into the large botanical garden, Link started down one of the many stone paths. With the size of the garden he knew it could take hours to find them but he wanted to find them anyway so he could tell them to be quiet during the middle of the night. As he walked down the path, a bundle of shouts grazed by his ears. They seemed to be coming from the direction he was heading.  
  
With speed like the wind, he ran down the path like the wind until he came to a large clearing. In the center were two figures, one dressed in midnight black and the other in death black. Each was viscously fighting the other. The one in midnight black had blond hair and a long sword while the other resembled more of a monster than a man.  
  
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Link shouted and headed to the dueling couple. As he reached the two, they faded into air, leaving nothing but the memories and sounds. With an uncertain mind, Link grasped his dagger and tried not to think about what he just saw.  
  
But a scream interrupted his thoughts sending back every memory in the double. It was a scream of pain and suffering; a scream Link hadn't heard since his time saving Hyrule from Ganon. Instinctively, he headed down the path in an attempt to locate the person who could scream such a thing.  
  
He reached the end of the path and, to his horror, found Zelda. There were chains and manacles around her wrists and ankles, secured firmly to the ground. Her dress was in scraps that hung loosely on her bloody body. Crisscrossing red lines scarred her back and chest. Standing behind her was a burly man with a dragon painted on his tunic. The sign of the Malchadite army. He brandished a whip and cracked it over her back, causing another blood-chilling shriek to escape her mouth.   
  
Link had no intention of letting any harm come to his wife. He took his dagger and hacked at the chain around the Princess' right wrist. Unfortunately, it did no good. "What?" he asked rhetorically and inspected the knife's blade. There was supposed to be no metal in all of Hyrule that could keep the sharp edge from cutting through, yet the chains would not be cut. Again, Link sliced at the chains, and again he got the same results.  
  
The man just laughed at Link's foolish attempts to free his captive. Slowly, he lifted a double-edged sword and placed it at the base of Zelda's neck. The Malchadite then lifted the sword to the side and swung it -  
  
  
  
"No!" Link shouted, bolting upright in bed. He was covered in sweat and the sheets were soaked through.  
  
"What is it?" Zelda asked, walking into the room. She was already dressed and in the process of putting on a pair of earrings. "I heard a scream-are you all right? You look like you saw a ghost."  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, getting out from the blankets. He walked to his closet and pulled out a silken robe. "A bad dream, that's all."  
  
Zelda looked far from convinced but changed the subject anyway. "Well, for your info, the banquet will be held in a few days along with an awards ceremony. You might want to have a speech ready just in case you are asked to talk."  
  
He groaned. Speaking was not high on his "favorites" list when it came to formal engagements. "I will," he promised, not really intent on preparing one at all.  
  
"I need to go," she said. "Daddy wants the Planning Committee and me to start setting up for the banquet and service before the day is over. Expect me to be home late again tonight." She turned to walk out the door. "Oh, that reminds me. Will you go tell the kitchen to start preparing the food for the feast? I didn't have time to do it last night and it would help me a lot."  
  
Link nodded and rested back in his bed. Not more than a minute later he got up; sleep would not come to him until nightfall. He might as well start his day now so he can try to get a real good night's sleep.  
  
His black tunic and pants were lying folded on a chair. His Gauntlets were hanging in his weapon's closet along with his black cap. He had no idea why he was dressing up in full uniform, but he did it anyway; it made him feel more secure. After he finished dressing, Link left the suite and headed to the kitchen.  
  
Not five minutes later but what felt like hours, Link found himself standing in front of the large kitchen door. The aroma of cooking meat and vegetables permeated the hall and entered his nose, reminding him that his stomach needed some food.  
  
The inside of the kitchen was a hubbub of activity. Men and women were running around, screaming orders, and cooking as fast as they could. Link made his way carefully around the hustling cooks, trying to find the head cook.  
  
After a while of searching, Link knew he would not find the chef so he turned to leave when he saw a familiar face: Jesika. "How are you doing?" Link asked, sitting down on a stool opposite of where she stood chopping vegetables.  
  
Jesika lifted her head and smiled. "Hi. I didn't see you come in." Setting her knife down, she continued: "It's great living in the Castle. I get a room larger than my old house, a lot of nice coworkers, and I get to cook whatever I want." She reached down below the table and pulled out a dish with a large pastry topped with honey on it. "This is something I made this morning. I was going to eat it, but I had to get to work chopping vegetables for this banquet thing happening in a few days. You want it?"  
  
Link picked up the pastry and took a bite. "Hey, this is good!" he exclaimed, trying to pry his mouth open because the honey glued it shut. "Have you always been able to cook like this?"  
  
"Yep," Jesika said proudly. "I would cook for myself just about every night in the shelter, so this is nothing new to me." Then her face frowned thoughtfully for a moment-Link figured she was back to her past and dared not ask-but she replaced it with a smile. "Is there something you wanted?"  
  
"Yeah. Zelda asked me to come down here and tell the head chef to have everyone start cooking for the upcoming dinner, but it looks like you already received the news."  
  
"Yeah, someone already came here and told us to do that. That's why I didn't get breakfast: I have too many meals to make. I can't believe these people are so unorganized. Thousands of meals in just three days! I better get back to work now, so I'll see you at the ceremony if not before then."  
  
"Talk to you later," Link said and walked out of the kitchen and back to his room so he could try to finish the rest of his sleeping.  
  
  
  
Three days later, Link found himself standing out in a large field. He was dressed in his regular attire of black tunic and pants and his weapons were slung about his body. The medals adorning his tunic shone brilliantly in the yellow-orange sun. All around him, the people of Hyrule stood. He could even recognize some familiar faces: Malon sat near the dais that he stood on, Nabooru and a few Gerudo were lounging at the refreshment tables.  
  
"...And now, I'd like to introduce General Link, the commander of the army," Zelda said, almost making his heart stop. He really didn't expect to have to speak at all; he thought she was just joking when she said to prepare a speech. Since he didn't know what he would say and because he was nervous when speaking publicly, he was a basket case.  
  
"Uh, well, um," he began, stepping up to the podium. "I really have no idea what to say. I didn't think that I would be up here at all, so I really didn't prepare a speech." There was a long pause, causing the assembled Hylian population to gaze at him more intently. All this did was make him even more nervous.  
  
Link went on and talked about his other accomplishments and how he came to his position and finally got to the actual battle itself. He didn't miss a single detail: the beginning of the battle all the way to when the Malchadites were captured was covered.  
  
"Now," Link continued, "I think I'm just taking up your time, so I'm going to let you go and talk and eat and do whatever else you want to do. Enjoy yourselves." Link stepped down from the stage and walked over to where his wife stood.  
  
"Well done," she teased, a large smile creasing her face. "Now, I have someone who wants to talk to you. He seems to be very interested in the battle, and I know he has questions about it even after your very...descriptive talk." Zelda took his hand and led him into the large group of people surrounding the snack tables.  
  
Link was busy explaining to people curious about what the battle was like for him personally. He had no idea that so many people were interested in what a war was like. "Yeah, and then they surrendered. I thought that they would-"  
  
A shattering scream interrupted his chat. One man was running down one of the hills pointing to something behind him, screaming "They're coming! They're coming!"  
  
"Who's coming?" Link asked, running to the man's side at the base of the hill. "What are you talking about?" But his questions were answered when he saw what the man was talking about: Malchadites. Not a small collection, but an army that made Hyrule's look small. Immediately a feeling of dread collected in his stomach as all the possible outcomes swirled through his brain.  
  
The collected Hylian population was frantically running around, having absolutely no idea what to do. "Link!" Zelda ran up to him. Fear was etched on her face. "What do we do?"  
  
Link unsheathed his sword and turned to his wife. "Get my men up here as fast as possible, and get everyone else out. Try to get them to Hyrule Castle." Without waiting for an answer he ran to the oncoming Malchadite force.  
  
Before he got to the enemy, two arms wrapped themselves around his body. "What the heck do you think you're doing?" someone shouted. Link recognized the voice as that of his commander's. "There's more important things to do that throwing your life away to have a good time slaughtering enemies. Remember, now you're not responsible for yourself but for all of Hyrule."  
  
Link hated to admit it, but the man was right. His responsibility was to keep Hyrule safe, not to go on a killing spree. He put Galadhad away and faced his commander. "Well, don't just stand there, gather my troops and keep the Malchadites busy. I'm going to help with the evacuation." As the commander ran off, Link pulled out his ocarina and played a short tune. He was surprised he still knew what keys to play. In no more than a minute, Epona stood at his side. He mounted and took off in the direction the frightened people of Hyrule seemed to be drifting.  
  
Minutes later, the mare caught up with the evacuating populace. They were in pretty good order; none were running over each other or screaming their lungs out. Zelda did a good job organizing them and getting them to calm down enough to run away.  
  
A movement caught his eye. A Malchadite was running to intercept the head of the fleeing people. Not for long. Link drew his bow out and nocked it with an arrow. After a moment of aim, the arrow whizzed off the string and planted itself in the side of his head, causing him to fall short of his target.  
  
Hyrule Castle loomed in the distance. If they could make it to the Castle, Link and everyone else knew they would be safe. The Castle was redesigned to hold all of Hyrule's population behind its gates and had many defenses, making it almost impenetrable.  
  
They would have made it without trouble, too, if it weren't for the long line of enemies barring their way. Simultaneously each archer raised his bow and let loose a deadly barrage of arrows that rained down on the populace, killing some but wounding most.  
  
Link accelerated to the assembled enemy line, sword in hand, and brought it down across any neck he could reach, hewing off as many heads as he could. But for each one he killed, two more took its place, just like Bolragade. When a few arrows nearly hit Epona, she retreated back to the stranded Hylians.  
  
Link knew that there was no hope to save Hyrule from this enemy, so he did the only thing he could: he grabbed his wife and Jesika, who happened to be standing by Zelda's side, and pulled them onto the saddle. When they were secured, Epona took off in a different direction. Hopefully, he could get away from this uncountable foe.  
  
"No!" Zelda cried from in front of him. She tired desperately to jump off and run to her people, but Link held her firmly in place. "You can't do this! How can you leave these people to die?!"  
  
Link didn't answer right away. But when her protests grew louder and louder, Link shouted, "The first thing a general learns is when to retreat from battle. These Malchadites outnumber us at least five to one. Only the best fighters can survive odds like those, and Hyrule doesn't have many of those people. There is no point in fighting if everyone dies."  
  
"If we're not going to fight, what are we going to do?" she demanded acidly.  
  
"We're leaving. The only other place we can go is to Malchadia. But from there, I don't know what we're going to do." They rode silently for an hour until dusk started to set in. The sound of a neighing horse brought his attention to what was happening around him. A large group of enemy soldiers were trailing him. Each one loaded his bow and let the projectile fly. Some arrows hit the ground near Epona while others flew over his head. Fortunately, none hit their target.  
  
Link armed his own bow and fired at his trailers, trying his best to navigate around Jesika, who had her arms clamped around his waist. He could feel her arms and even her body shaking in fear.  
  
Again a barrage of arrows came his way, and again they failed to make contact. Link shot back another arrow and took another man off his horse. He didn't know how long he could keep this up, but he knew it wouldn't be for long.  
  
His fears came true as a rogue arrow landed in the neck of his steed. The brown mare buckled under the now burdensome weight she carried and crashed into the ground, sending her passengers through the air to land a few feet away. "Run for the woods!" Link commanded as the three of them got to their feet. He held back a moment to look at his now-dead horse, a tear in his eye. "You've done well, good friend. Now it's time for you to rest. Sleep well." He then turned and caught up to his companions as they neared the looming forest.  
  
Running ahead of the women, Link wanted to make sure no danger presented itself. The trees were unusually quiet; no animal wanted to take any part in the danger happening around them. The bushes were low in this part of the woods and no unseen armor reflected the red light of the sun. Unfortunately he could only see a few meters into the forest; the rest was very dark. But this was the only semi-safe place he could find so this is where they would enter.  
  
Link ran back to his wife and friend. Grabbing Zelda and Jesika's hand, he nearly dragged them to the thick copse of trees. "We have to cross through this forest and we'll be in Malchadia," he informed them, but more for himself. "Hopefully we can lose them with our head start." Still holding hands, they walked into the forest.  
  
"Boy, it's dark in here," Jesika complained. "If there were more light--" a sharp glare from Link cut her off. His face said everything: "Don't talk unless you want them to find you." She didn't talk again.  
  
Nocturnal sounds started to whisper through the trees as branches tugged menacingly at their clothes. Beasts that Link would not like to meet in daylight, and definitely not in darkness, cried out in the depths of the forest. He realized that three of them were farther in this place than he had thought. He just hoped that they found the end of this creepy forest, and soon.  
  
"Link, look," Zelda softly muttered at his side. One of her fingers extended to a light gray patch. "It looks like a clearing. Maybe we should check it out?" It was not as much of a suggestion as a plea. She wanted to get clear of the spooky trees and out of the suffocating air.  
  
Link generously complied. The three took large gasps of the fresh air until their heads swam. Darkness had finally settled over Hyrule. Darkness that carried a sense of death, as if it was mourning over the taken lives of innocent Hylian people.  
  
But this didn't seem right. A feeling that they were being watched nagged at his mind and senses. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that they were herded to this spot. With their lack of knowledge about the geography in this area, it would be a great trap.  
  
"Guys, come on. We are getting out of here." He hastily collected his companions and ushered them to a place where they could easily resume their trek through the forest. But just as the three neared the edge of the clearing, a rustle came from every direction and ten Malchadites appeared. Each one carried a sword, sleek and sharp blade jutting down to barely rest above the ground. Each one had an expression of contempt etched on their faces and looked eager to unleash the deadly power each sword carried.  
  
"Stay where you are," one of the soldiers warned, holding his sword in a way that deterred anyone from attacking. "You are lucky we don't just kill you now." His threat was directed more to Link than the other two, for he eyed them with lust in his eyes.  
  
"I don't think so," Link responded, drawing his sword to clash with his opponent's. A metallic clang filled the quietness momentarily as the other Malchadites gathered their wits about them and joined in the fray. Shouts of anger lifted into the air and, Link was assured, alerted every person within miles of the battle.  
  
During this time Jesika and Zelda slowly made their way to the outskirts of the clearing, trying to get away from the action. "Princess Zelda, let's get away from here," Jesika pleaded. "I think we have a better chance of surviving the forest than this battle zone."  
  
"I think you're right," the other woman responded after looking at the melee. "Let's head into the forest." Zelda made her way, Jesika right behind her, to the edge of the clearing. The two set foot onto the hard dirt floor and their legs were wrenched backward. Jesika screamed and a cruel laugh chuckled behind them.  
  
The two felt themselves being pulled over the ground back towards the fight. "Get up." The whip released its iron grip on Zelda's ankle and she stood up, fulfilling the man's order. Now she got a look of the scene in front of her: Link was reluctantly standing still, a sword blade to his neck. A man seemed to be talking to him and she caught the last of his words. "...and if you do, I'll have one of my men kill her. Got that?" No doubt he was talking about her.  
  
"Well, men, let's pack up and get out of here," the man threatening Link said. "But first, I want to see the prizes we have here." He walked over two dead Malchadites she didn't notice before and stood before Zelda. "Why, this looks like the Princess of Hyrule. Am I mistaken?" He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Well, Princess, you are in good hands now." She could feel his hands pushing the top of her dress down off her shoulders. "Your dress looks a little tight; maybe you would like to step out of it?"   
  
She never knew she had it in her. Zelda overcame her paralyzing fear and brought her hand around to slap the Malchadite leader's face with a loud clap. "Rot in hell." She spat on his face.  
  
The enemy, obviously angered, viciously grabbed her and drew a knife placing it to her throat. "That was a mistake. No one ever hits me and gets away with it, woman. Not unless they pay." He wrenched the Princess's head up, exposing her bare neck. Zelda swallowed fearfully as she felt the cold blade pressed to the soft skin of her throat. "I wonder how pretty you'll be with a large gash running through your neck?"  
  
"Leave her alone!" Link shouted. In his anger, he broke free from the rock-hard grip of his oppressor and started ahead only to be grabbed again. "I said leave her alone!"  
  
"Shut up!" the other man roared. He walked up to Link, Zelda held out in front. "If you say another word, I'll kill her." He was not joking. To test Link's faith in his words, the man hit Zelda on the back of the head, sending her sprawling to the ground. As she tried to get back up, he took a fistful of hair and practically dragged her to her feet. Again he placed the cold steel blade at below her chin but dropped it when another shout came to his ears.  
  
"Leave Princess Zelda alone." It was Jesika, forgotten by everyone during the recent activities. Her knees were shaking with fear and she was sobbing. "Leave her alone," she said, this time in a weaker voice.  
  
A motion from one of his hands, the leader ordered two men to retrieve her. "Run-" Link started and stopped when a fist connected with his stomach. He did, though, catch enough of his breath to see Jesika run into the trees, with two men covering the distance gap between them and her.  
  
This might be their only chance of escape and he will not pass it up. Taking advantage of the distraction, Link broke free of the iron grip holding him in place. To his holder's surprise, Link took out his hookshot, placed it at the man's stomach, and propelled the tip of the shot through his body to stick into a nearby tree. When the hookshot collected itself, it carried the impaled man with it, securely attaching him to the rough bark.  
  
As Link reached for his dagger at his waist, a leather whip tied his arms to his side. The leader had an enraged look on his face. "Let him go." Approaching Link, he brought Zelda out in front once again, but this time the blade was pressed in her neck. A small trickle of blood danced down to seep into the front of her dress.  
  
A lump formed in Link's throat as the knife dug deeper into her soft skin. "Did you really think I was lying?" he asked rhetorically. "Did you really think I was just joking? Ha. You really don't me very well if you think I bluff. Unfortunately for you, it's your wife who's going to pay for your ignorance." Zelda screamed out in pain as the sharp blade swept across her throat, and the blood flowed in more than a trickle.  
  
Link watched horror-stricken as it seeped down her neck and stained the front of her dress. Her eyes clearly showed the hurt that she felt but held no malice or hostility. In fact, her eyes had no emotion whatsoever in them. Just pain.  
  
In moments, enough blood had drained from Zelda and her face became snow-white. Link could see consciousness leave her body as her legs gave out and she lost her balance. She stumbled and fell into his arms. Blood soaked his tunic and front but Link didn't care; his wife was dying right before his eyes. "Zelda, please don't die," he begged desperately. "Please...don't die." He wrapped her in a tight embrace in his arms and slowly laid her on the ground. The front of her dress was a deep crimson; no amount of help could save his princess now.  
  
Before her final waking moment, Zelda curled her lips in a weak smile, a smile of encouragement, of support, of happiness, and mouthed ever so slowly three words before closing her eyes to rest forever: I...love...you.  
  
Tears streaming down his face, Link watched his dead wife lay still on the green grass. Never before had he felt such heart-racking pain in his life, not when he had to leave Kokiri Forest, not when he had to leave Saria.  
  
When the restraining clamp of the hand presses Link's shoulder, his utter despair turned to great hatred. Hatred to the Malchadites for what they did his wife and his life. Hatred to himself for not taking seriously the man's words. The wrath that he so long ago mastered and pushed down in the recesses of his mind now came floating to the surface in full force, strengthened by the other strong emotions swimming through his thoughts.  
  
"You--," Link muttered under his breath with such intensity that everyone took a step back. "You bastards!" Link unsheathed his sword and held it out in front of him. The surviving seven Malchadites each brought up their own weapons, glad to be able to play the deadly game of swords, not at all affected by the sight they just saw.  
  
Two soldiers advanced on Link. One came in with his sword held high while the other had his low. Link twirled to the side and avoided each blow, but two more he barely saw came from another set of Malchadites at the end of the fighting circle.  
  
Out of his anger, Link swirled his blade in a complete circle and took off their two heads. The bodies fell to the ground, one landing on his sword, the other on his severed head. He eyed the remaining five and swung at the nearest.  
  
This man, though, was prepared and countered the blow with his own sword. But he didn't have the same amount of vigor Link had, so he swung the two blades in a circle and knocked Link's off to the side. The Malchadite saw Link struggle to regain control so stepped in to deliver the final blow only to feel it pierce through his chest. The blade cleanly sliced his breastbone and ribs and stuck out if his back, following the up-down direction of his spinal column. A last grunt and he too fell on the ground.  
  
By now, everyone had seen more than enough of Link's powerful wrath and fighting abilities. Each was visibly scared. No one dared to get near him; no one wanted to die. Every soldier slowly slid back to the beginning of the forest in a single hope of escape. None got there. The first of the four remaining was jumped by Link who grabbed his wrists. The extra power given by his Gauntlets allowed him to crack them before breaking the enemy's neck. The corpse Link threw at his enemies.  
  
As each one stood up, anger also was plain. Silently the Malchadites produced their bows in one hand and nocked an arrow, ready to be drawn and released. This didn't deter Link at all; he held out his sword and concentrated on the blade. As the blade grew blue and then shifted to orange, Link could feel his anger flowing through his weapon and collecting as destructive energy. When every ounce of his anger had left his body the blade had become so orange it appeared red.  
  
But it didn't stop there. His own energy, the energy that fed his muscles and all parts of his body, too was absorbed in the swirling collection at the end of his sword. This time there was no doubt about it; the blade was red. Red as newly spilled blood.  
  
Every Malchadite saw the blood-red blade and the look of death in Link's eyes. None wanted to let him live long enough to execute any attack with his vicious weapon. They raised their bows and drew the arrow in unison with Link thrusting his blade into the ground.  
  
Nothing happened. Seconds passed and still nothing. Exhaling breaths they didn't know they held, the three remaining enemies aimed again at Link as towers of flames erupted from the ground. Licks of fire danced all around, playing games with the shadows. Light glinted off metal and invaded the darkest of spots, but there was no heat; metal was not hot, skin was not sweating. "A game," one of the men said and stepped forward.  
  
Unfortunately for him, it wasn't a game. A strand of flame fell across his leg and intense pain sliced up and down his body. Every nerve was in its own spasm and only worsened as the fire climbed up toward his head. Metal melted as if it were in a forge and cloth served little protection. Where flame seared his body only black scars remained. His skin was dying. His screams of agony cut through the trees only to be drowned out of the crackle of burning wood and the silence of death.  
  
The other two were similarly engulfed, and their deaths had the same suffering as their partner. Soon, the fire waned until it finally disappeared. The smell of scorched flesh and wood and grass filled the air, making it stuffy as the forest.  
  
A clash as he dropped his sword, Link stumbled over to his dead wife. Fortunately she was spared from his angry fire. Her skin still had the same peach look and was still soft to the touch. Thinking of nothing else, Link lay his head on her shoulder and wrapped an arm around her still figure, as if to protect her from an unseen danger. He ignored the wet blood soaking into his tunic. His tears raged relentlessly, and sleep settled down upon him. Obeying his tiredness, Link shut his eyes and buried his face in her chest before entering his world of dreams. No good dreams would come tonight.  
  
Jesika, who witnessed everything: the fierce attack, the death of ten men, all bloody, and the magical fire, walked back out into the clearing. The starlight was covered by a thick blanket of smoke, making the night even darker and colder.  
  
She eased herself up to the edge of the black circle, the circle where the flames had been contained, but didn't cross onto it. Instead, the blond-haired girl crossed the circle and slid silently up to Link. The wind sent shivers down her spine. She put her body down by her friend's, getting as close to him as possible, and slept. She hoped she would not wake in a prison, or worse. 


	2. Melkaban

Link slowly roused from his uncomfortable sleep. All night images of Zelda's death plagued his mind, keeping him at a miserable unrest. Images from that night, and images contorted and manipulated by his own imagination relentlessly tormented his mind. Images of her face, shocked, horrified, cruelly happy, a different face each time took its turn replaying a death it seemed fit for its seer. One such face had the audacity to twist Zelda's last words to those of "I hate you", causing more anguish and pain than all the other dreams together. With the horrible lack of sleep Link couldn't tell what parts of what scenes were real or imagined, nor did he try.  
  
Despite the weights on his eyes, Link took note of his surroundings. He was in a large skin tent that climbed up and up to end in a point, like a cone. The base was wide, for four sleeping bags littered the ground. Three were empty. Dark, thin shadows vertically lined the curved walls where wooden supports rested on the outside. An orange glow painted one side of the tent, and the soft sound of wood crackling in a fire drifted through the thick hide walls. Every now and then a shadow would move across the wall as someone outside kept moving here and there around the site. Link closed his eyes again and listened to the conversation taking place around the fire.  
  
"Here, lass, take some more soup," a heavily accented voice offered. "You look hungry tonight."  
  
"Thanks," came Jesika's soprano voice. Link sighed in relief: at least she hadn't died. "I know this is rude to ask, but are you two...? You seem to always be together, no matter where you are."  
  
There was a pause, and then mirthful laughter filled the silence. "No, no, lass. Alamatar and I are just traveling companions. Nothing more than good friends. But if anyone were to ask that question, it should be me. I've never seen two people huddled that close together like you and the general except two lovers."  
  
"We are *not* in love!" Jesika protested as she understood what his words were implying. "It was cold; I needed a body to lay against. My small body won't keep me warm. Not in cold weather like that."  
  
"Alright, lass, I believe you," he said, a hint of mock-disbelief in his voice. A large figure stood up and walked in front of the light, all but blocking the glow of the fire from view. Link assumed this was the man conversing with Jesika. He walked with a pot-like shadow in his hand to the edge of the light, and a splash as the contents fell upon the ground. "Can't keep recin herbs cooking too long before they go bad," was his excuse. "We better make our way to the tent; it's getting late. Tomorrow, we'll wake up your friend before we leave, so no one has to carry him. He's not the lightest of fellows."  
  
A hiss outside as the fire cursed the water for putting it out, and the shuffling of feet got louder and louder until it stopped just outside the tent. Link saw three figures enter through the flap: one a bulking form, much taller and more muscular than Link and the other two around the same size. With the darkness the smaller shadows looked so much alike that Link couldn't tell Jesika from the other.  
  
Link closed his eyes but promptly opened them when he felt a hand placed on his forehead. It was a warm, womanly touch, soft and gentle. He felt the hand brush aside a stray strand of his hair and trail down his face. The thin fingers carefully caressed his cheek for a minute before they finally disappeared. His face felt cold as the warmth from her hand slowly dissipated, leaving only the chills of the night. Link turned on his side to face the skin wall and silently drifted off to sleep.  
  
The soft chirps of birds stirred Link from his restful sleep, his best sleep since the Battle of Bolragade. Light flooded through the open flap and shone on the leather walls. The tent was completely empty except for him and his sleeping bag.  
  
A surge of pain shot through his head as he sat up. Clutching his hand to the side of his head, Link got out of the bag and made his way into the daylight. The bright light made him squint, and the cool morning air felt cold against his bare chest.  
  
"Link?" someone asked. Walking towards him was Jesika, a relieved and concerned look on her face. "Link, are you okay?" She guided him around the tent to where four logs had been arranged and circled a fire pit. Low flames flickered up and down the black wood; obviously this wood had been burning for quite some time.  
  
He sat down on the log nearest him and accepted a bowl of stew. Looking at the charred, dead grass under his bare feet brought back everything that happened in its entirety. The screams from the Malchadites as they were incinerated, and, even more painful, the death of his beloved. Nothing will ever cause him to forget that. "How long have I been sleeping?" he wearily asked.  
  
Jesika sat herself down beside him and gazed at his face. "About three days straight. We tried many times to rouse before, but you wouldn't wake up. Just this morning when we tried again and you still wouldn't wake, we were getting worried."  
  
Silence reined upon the two for a while, before Link finally asked, "Who were those people you were talking to last night?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah, you don't know anything that's happened since...that night." She filled her own bowl of stew and began to eat it. "They're two travelers," she said between spoonfuls. "One is a very skilled swords fighter--like you--named Belgard, and the other...well, I'm not sure what she is, except she knows a great many things about Malchadia. Her name is Alamatar.  
  
"If it weren't for them passing through this area that night, we would have found ourselves in a Malchadite prison camp. The day after they found us, a small fight between Belgard and five soldiers happened right over there." She pointed to the other side of the clearing where much of the grass was pushed flat by heavy, booted feet. "I'm surprised you didn't hear that and wake up."  
  
"Where are they?"  
  
"Uh..." Jesika look baffled by the question. "Well, I'm not really sure. They said they were going to check ahead for trouble and that they would still be in hearing distance, but other than that, I don't know."  
  
Link resumed his silence and swam his fork through the broth, pushing aside the vegetables and noodles. "What's wrong? Aren't you hungry?" Jesika placed a concerned hand on his shoulder.  
  
"No, not right now." Setting the bowl on the ground, Link stood up. "Where's Zelda? Where is she buried?"  
  
About to protest, but decided stifling her words would be better, Jesika stood up, and, taking Link by the hand, she led him through a self-made path that ended at a blue lake. On the shore of the lake a mound of rocks stood and a small, yellow Triforce was painted on the largest of the rocks; the grave of the Princess of Hyrule. Link made his way down the cold sand and past many wilting plants to the pyramid of stones and stood, taking in the pile as a whole and down to the smallest of pebbles.  
  
"Would you like to be left alone?" Jesika asked, still standing on the path. When Link nodded his head she turned around, a slight shake in her shoulders. He didn't know if she was crying, but right now he didn't care.  
  
Once again the rocks received his full attention as he carefully lifted each one off its resting place and set it aside. Each stone felt slick and smooth to the touch yet didn't slip from its place at rest. Amidst all the stones rested Zelda's quiescent body. Her dress was clean of blood and smooth of wrinkle. The only dirt on her face was that dropped by the rocks. Even her hair had been combed and gleamed majestically in the sun.  
  
Link knelt by her side and took her hand in his. It was cold to the touch, but he didn't know if that was caused by the weather or death. Nonetheless he gripped her hand firmly. For a while he sat there, gazing at her pallid face before finally speaking. "You know, Zel, throughout all my years of fighting I have seen many people lose their loved ones. Husbands lose wives, mothers their daughters, and friends each other, and each time I tell them it's not the end, they will somehow get through this. I tell them to forget about the past and the pain and concentrate on the future; they were meant to live for a reason, and mourning day after day will not help them discover what that reason is. But you know, I just can't take my own advice." He gave a small, sad laugh. "I never really knew how it felt to lose a loved one myself until now. Now I realize what suffering those people went through and can appreciate their pain. I feel it myself.  
  
"I feel it my fault," Link confessed, "for what happened that night. If it weren't for my idiocy you might still be alive. I hope, wherever you are, you can forgive me of my actions." He fell silent again and stared at her beautiful face. In the depths of all his turmoil and sorrow a little glimmer of emotion flared. It wasn't very large, but large enough that Link could feel the cold grasp of guilty despair slightly loosen its hold on his heart. Link didn't know if it were Zelda's forgiveness--he hoped, really hoped it was--or him relieving his burden, but the feeling was there, prying guilt's fingers away from his desolate body.  
  
Taking the wedding ring off his finger, a gold band worked with silver with three glittering triangle diamonds touching at their points, he placed it in her white-gloved hand. "I'm not breaking our marriage; I want you to have this as a remembrance," he said as he took her other hand and clasped the two together, resting them on her breast. Deftly, he untied the scarlet ribbon around her waist and brushed the dirt off. Then he tied it to his left arm, his sword arm.  
  
As he began to replace the gray stones over his wife, he instead threw them to the side. I can't bury her under rocks. It just doesn't seem right. Placing an arm beneath her knees and back, Link picked her up and waded through the small lake. Tiny ripples coursed over the surface as Link broke the tranquility of the water. The cold water stung like daggers on his legs and feet, but he barely noticed.  
  
Link continued into the middle of the pool even though his feet couldn't touch ground. The bottom of the lake seemed so far down where he tread, but the water didn't hinder Link's view of the floor, not down to even the grains of sand. "Well, Zelda, I guess this is goodbye." Link slowly lowered his head to hers and gave her a light kiss. A sensation of warmth flowed through his body, and Link pressed harder, wanting to stay in his place of bliss, dreading returning to the world of destruction and despair. The world he experienced all too well.  
  
But Link knew he had to return, knew he had to do something, anything, to win back his riven kingdom. Maybe even take Hyrule as his responsibility if a living member of the Royal Family could not be found. As he broke the kiss four words crossed into his mind: It's not your fault. How they came to his mind he knew not--they sounded as if they were spoken by the trees--and he almost laughed; the memories of what happened were all too fresh in his thoughts, still picking at him in the dark recesses of his mind. There was no way he could forget what happened so early, so soon. And those memories were caused by him and him alone. It *is* my fault.  
  
Bringing his attention back to what was in front of him, Link wanted to finish his business in the lake. "Goodbye, Zelda." Gently, ever so gently, he brought his arms out from under her legs and behind her back and watched as she slowly drifted to the floor of the lake. Golden hair fanned out to her sides, catching the bright rays of light, reflecting them in every direction. Fish, small and large, swam out of her way until she finally rested on the ground. Small waves of sand coursed across the bottom, losing their strength until they were no more.  
  
Tears in his eyes, Link pulled out his blue ocarina, *the* Ocarina, and played a small tune, a tune he learned years ago when he first met the princess, before making his way to the shore. Despite the coldness of the water Link had no trouble moving his muscles to carry him across the quiet lake.  
  
On the shore, a pure white dove bearing the symbol of the Triforce stood, gazing at the spot in the lake Link was just at, almost sadly. It was one of the many birds from Zelda's menagerie. In its yellow beak was a strand of vine from a plant Link did not know the name of, just the meaning: consolation. It was a gift given by a person to someone who mourned for a loved one.  
  
Upon sight of Link the dove glided and perched itself on his shoulder. It craned its neck down, and he brought his hand up to receive the green vine. Before Link could do anything else the bird spread its wings and flew into the sky, leaving a single white feather fluttering through the air.  
  
Stuffing both vine and feather into his pocket, Link made his way up the dirt path. At the top stood Jesika holding his black tunic in her slender arms. Resting against nearby trees were his weapons: sword, bow and quiver, and hookshot. Link didn't know how she carried them all the way to the lake, nor did he want to. "Are you okay?" she asked, handing him his clothes.  
  
Nodding, Link shrugged into his tunic. The warmth felt good against his cold skin. "I'll be fine." He finished equipping his weapons and made his way down the dirt path, Jesika right behind him. He hoped she didn't see the mistiness of his eyes. As they walked birds chirped and insects buzzed; the only breaking of the silence besides an occasional twig snapping.  
  
It was not an uncomfortable silence, but a silence because neither could think of anything to say. Any thought of friendly conversation was immediately squelched by the pressing quietness. Most of the trek was like that until a thought came to Jesika. "Link, why did Malchadia attack Hyrule?"  
  
This simple, innocent question caused Link to pause in mid-stride. Moments he stood there, thinking, until he resumed his walking. "I don't know. I know nothing about Malchadia or their king." He sighed. "I don't even know his name; all that was Zelda's responsibility. All I can remember is that when he arrived at Hyrule to sign the Treaty of Nations he seemed like a nice, caring person. But that was two years ago. Who knows what changes a person goes through in that time." As Link finished his speaking they neared the edge of camp.  
  
"Link? I have one more thing to say," she confessed. "When you were sleeping, I agreed with Alamatar and Belgard about staying with them and following them around the forests of Malchadia. Since we don't know our way around. They said we can stay with them as long as we like, so we don't have to stay with them if you don't want to. I hope you're not too mad?"  
  
Link almost smiled. Almost. "Just like Zelda. Never tell me anything until just two minutes before it happens. No, I'm not mad; it saves me the trouble of having to ask to travel with them." Link walked into the camp. But I will not follow them around the woods forever. Once I figure out how to save Hyrule, I will do it with or without their help.  
  
The first one to spot them was Belgard. He was a man even taller than Link first thought when he saw his shadowy figure, standing at just an inch or two below seven feet, and much more muscular. "Ah, General--"  
  
"Link. Just Link."  
  
"Link," he finished a bit awkwardly. "Good to see you up. Didn't know what we were going to do with you still asleep. You're a heavy one to carry."  
  
Link was about to respond, but Jesika chimed in. "When are we leaving?" Belgard gave Jesika a quizzical look and nodded his head toward Link. "He knows I agreed to stay with you and he's fine with it."  
  
Belgard stood to his full height, a large pack held in his hands. Supplies nearly overflowed from the opening at the top, and points of all sizes poked at the canvas, making it look more spiked rock than an actual pack. "Well, good. Being with us is the safest place for you guys to be. Hey, Alamatar, we're ready to leave."  
  
A young, red-eyed girl who looked no older than twenty-one walked out from a copse of black and green trees. Brown hair flowed over her white gown and a midnight-black cloak the same shade as Belgard's hung loosely around her slim body. A wooden staff, smooth from use, was in her hands. "You must be Link," she said, approaching the black-clad general. Standing on tiptoe Alamatar gave him a kiss on his right cheek, and the next thing Link knew a large pack was shoved into his hands as the chestnut-brown walked over to join Jesika. Almost immediately the two women struck up a conversation and walked through the trees, leaving the men behind.  
  
"Don't worry, lad," Belgard said, clapping a hand on Link's shoulder. "She does that to everyone." Whether he was talking about the kiss or the pack, Link didn't know, but he followed Belgard out of the clearing and back into the forest, almost stumbling over the weight of the large canvas bag; he still hadn't got all of his strength back from the previous night's fight. He was glad to get away from that awful clearing.  
  
Over the following days Link stayed away from conversing with his fellow travelers. Instead, he wallowed in his own thoughts and ignored his surroundings. The only he thing he bothered to ask about was where they were going. "Melkaban," Alamatar answered the first day. "We have to buy some supplies, otherwise we won't get very far. Not in these Malchadite woodlands; no food and vicious beasts is a combination that will kill even the best of fighters."  
  
Days passed and so did Link's guilt, slowly. The sadness was still there but it was bearable, and he knew it would go away with time. Once the memories of his wife were just memories and not what seemed to happen just the day before.  
  
With each new morning a brighter mood enveloped him as he could finally put those four words to use. He knew that what happened wasn't his fault, that the Malchadites would have killed them anyway had it been in that clearing or in the Malchadite kingdom itself. He knew that Zelda died less painfully, both emotionally and physically, at the hands of the soldiers than she would have at the hands of the King. But he still couldn't get over the thought of maybe him being able to help his wife escape to freedom with her life if they had been thrown down in the depths of the dungeons in Malchadia. Even that thought became less and less as the days went on and the memories of his wife, smiling and happy, filled the space of his guilt and sorrow.  
  
  
  
  
  
"That was close," Link muttered, narrowly avoiding a large, bear-like creature's broad paw. Five curved claws swung down on the spot he was just standing in. An angry snarl roared from its mouth when it realized it missed its target, then lunged again.  
  
This time, before the paw came close to hitting, Link jumped out of the way and brought Galadhad down on its sinewy shoulder. Screams of pain rose through the forest, almost deafening, as the beast tried to stop the blood flowing from its wound, but in vain. Link didn't ease on the creature as he brought blow after swift blow down on its body. Blood erupted from each new wound and its moans didn't decrease in loudness.  
  
With one last effort, the bear lunged at Link, sending him flying into the trunk of a tree, knocking the wind out of him. Link felt wet warmth on his fingers and saw his leg with five long cuts running from his thigh to his knee; the pain made his leg feel like it had been tossed around on sharp rocks. The animal lumbered clumsily over the sword lying far out of Link's reach and stared in the Hylian's face. Link could smell the horrid stench of its breath and gagged. The creature seemed to take pleasure in his discomfort and opened its mouth wide, revealing two rows of sharp, jagged teeth.  
  
Closing his eyes, Link drew his hookshot from his waist and quickly placed the harpoon in its mouth. The beast slumped to the ground instantly as the shot pierced its brain, and, finding nothing to latch onto, the deadly metal spike retracted back to its base. Link tried to push the heavy creature off his legs, but the animal was too heavy to even budge.  
  
"Link! Are you alright?" Jesika shouted, rushing up to where he lay under the monstrous bear. Running up behind her were Alamatar and Belgard, his sword drawn and in hand while Alamatar held her long staff. Jesika, too, pushed on the still form's body, and came up with the same results. "Help me get this thing off him."  
  
The three got to one side of the animal, and Link wrapped his hands around the beast's shoulder stub, lips curling when his fingers touched wet tissue and blood, and heaved on the count of three, succeeding in throwing the corpse off Link. "You okay, lad?" Belgard asked, helping Link to his feet. "I've never seen anyone take on a thrakkan before and survive, except me and Alamatar. Not even the Rising Suns."  
  
"Next time," Link wheezed, "tell me *before* I walk into one of their dens that a ten-foot bear lives in it." He took a step and nearly fell flat on his face if it weren't for the two women catching him before he landed. Link cut off a yelp of pain and clutched a gauntleted hand to his right leg, feeling even more blood than before.  
  
"You're hurt!" Jesika exclaimed, glancing at his leg. "Did it bite you?"  
  
"No. The thing clawed me." Link could have sworn he kept his distance well enough to avoid being hit by the beast's razor-sharp claws and silently berated himself for his wound. "Stupid bear must have tore clean through a muscle." Link allowed Alamatar and Jesika to guide him over to a fallen tree where he sat, rubbing his hurt leg, glad to get off his feet. "Stupid animal."  
  
"Fortunately for you," Alamatar began, sitting down next to him, "we are only a day away from Melkaban. If you don't see a doctor soon, the poison will take effect, and you don't want to die of thrakkan poisoning." She took a moment to inspect Link's leg, poking it here and there, causing Link's face to twist in pain, before finally saying something. "Belgard, this is where we'll set up camp tonight. Go fill this basin with water."  
  
Link placed two fingers in a hole in his pants made by the sharp talons and widened it. When he stopped tearing, thought it was wide enough, Alamatar finished it by yanking the entire leg off, throwing it down on logs strewn in a small pit; firewood. The wound was hideously ugly. Black blood dripped down his leg to soak into his leather boots and strands of skin rested raw against his leg, strands torn from the five deep gashes running down his thigh to rest above his knee. Jesika held a hand over her mouth and looked in a different direction, while Alamatar gently touched a wound and Link nearly doubled over; the pain was more intense than he thought from looking at the cuts.  
  
"As I thought," Alamatar stated. "The poison has already settled in."  
  
"What's *that* supposed to mean?" Jesika demanded, not at all happy with Alamatar's words.  
  
"It means we have maybe have one day to get Link to a doctor. Maybe two. After that..." She shook her head. "No one's ever survived past two days of poisoning." Belgard came through the trees, interrupting Alamatar's next words. In his hands was the wooden basin, clear blue water sloshing over the brim. "Thank you." She set the bowl down on the floor and Belgard began setting up the tent and starting a small fire. "Link, hold onto something; that might ease the pain a little."  
  
She dabbed a small cloth in the water and pressed it to a gash running down Link's leg. If he thought just her touching it was painful, this was excruciating. The cold water stung down to the marrow of his bones, feeling worse than having a dagger stabbed in his leg, leaving a prickle that tickled his entire body with pain. The only thing that took his mind off the hurting was punching a fist through the trunk of the tree he sat on. Splintered wood sprayed into the air, bouncing off his face to the ground.  
  
But just as soon as the pain came, it went. Link looked at his wounds and saw the blood was gone, leaving only the black wound. The raw skin still throbbed painfully, but it was slowly subsiding to a moderate ache. The gash was clean of blood but it still welled up on the surface, glossing the black cut. Link didn't know if his eyes were tricking him, but his leg, too, looked a light shade of black.  
  
"Jesika," Alamatar said, handing her the black-spotted cloth, "take care of Link and make sure his leg doesn't bleed too badly. I'm going to start dinner."  
  
"Hey, I can take care of myself," protested Link, but Alamatar paid no attention and walked over to start burning the wood. It crackled and popped under the flame, and Link's pant leg charred and turned to ashes, blowing away in the wind.  
  
An hour later Link still sat on the wooden log. His rear was starting to get sore from the hard wood, but his mind was taken from the discomfort by the bowl of stewed meat and herbs in his hand. Everyone else ate a large slab of meat; Alamatar insisted on him eating the herbs. She said it would help with the tiredness and lessen the effects of the poison.  
  
"Link, you better get some sleep," Jesika said concernedly. "I don't want you getting sick because your body is too exhausted to fight off the poisons." She took his hand and helped him to his feet, although he didn't lean too much on her; she was trying to help but his weight was too heavy for her to be able to support herself. The two walked to the tent, and moments later he was asleep under blankets. Jesika didn't come out of the tent, either.  
  
"Link, wake up." A voice cut into his head, racking his brain. "Wake up, we have to go," the voice pleaded, shaking him harder. Link opened his eyes, and the light, still not fully bright, made the ache in his head worse.  
  
"Jesika, is that you?" He had to squint to be able to see anything. What he saw, though, swam under his eyes, distorting the colors while spots lined his vision, blocking out much of what he was able to see. Exhaustion lingered on his body, making it hard for him to remain sitting on his propped elbow. His wound still pricked with pain. "Help me up," he said when his eyes slightly focused on her worried face.  
  
This time Link did not help her when she tried to pull him to his feet, and she toppled over on his chest, causing him to gasp for breath. "Belgard!" she called. "Help me get Link up; he's too heavy for me." Link felt another set of arms join those that were already on his body, and he was lurched to his feet.  
  
"You don't look too good, lad," Belgard said, but Link barely noticed. The pain in his head was even more intense, and he used all his concentration on just trying to keep it from splitting his head in two. When the hands let go he stumbled, but they quickly grabbed on again. "Well, looks like you won't be walking anywhere." Belgard hoisted Link over a shoulder and walked out of the tent into the orange morning sun.  
  
"How's Link?" another voice asked, this time Alamatar's, but she answered her own question when she placed a small hand to his forehead. "He's burning with fever! We must get him to Melkaban, and soon. Forget about the tent, we can get a new one." Alamatar and Jesika walked in front with Belgard struggling to keep Link over his shoulder in back.  
  
Hours passed and Jesika became more and more worried. Link's fever ravaged his entire body, enervating him more than he was already till simply keeping his eyes open was too difficult. Sweat glistened on his face, but Jesika would wash it away only to rewash it minutes later. Belgard, too, was feeling the effects of carrying Link's body, for now he walked with a slump and wheezed every other step. His muscles were becoming very sore from lifting Link's weight.  
  
By the time the sun hung golden, just barely over the horizon, Jesika was frantic with worry. "How long until Melkaban? You said it was only a day...away." As she finished her statement, the wooden and grass and rock rooftops came into view, towering over the green trees. Jesika almost wept with joy. "Come on. We're almost there. Oh, Link, please don't give up now."  
  
"Jesika," Alamatar said coolly, a hint of relief in her red eyes, "run down to the city gates and get a few guards or merchants or whoever you find up here right away. Belgard can't carry Link any further. Now run." As Jesika took off down the dirt path, Belgard rested Link's body on the ground. "He's burning up," she said to Belgard after placing a hand on his hot face. She stripped Link of all his weapons, laying them in a neat pile next to his resting body.  
  
"Alamatar," he said, all traces of mirth usually in his voice now gone. "Under normal circumstances I wouldn't ask this, but what if you...? Just a small boost would help greatly. Even small enough that the side effects would not be too severe."  
  
"Do you think I haven't thought of that?" she demanded sharply, but immediately took back her words and lessened the sharpness of her voice. "I'm sorry. These hours have been as hard on me as on Jesika." She sat down next to Belgard. "Many times I've wondered if I should just give him a little help, but each time I thought better of it. He's a strong man, Link is, but in his weakened state I think even a small dose might kill him. My trying to Cure him would do more in aiding the toxins than in killing them. It's better just to let a doctor rid him of the poison than me."  
  
Belgard sighed. "You're right, lass. Even the strongest bodies have been no match for the Taint. It's only a shame we have to rely on the help of villagers and doctors. Especially if Malchadia has posted wanted signs for him; he might be recognized, and that would not go well for us. Any of us." Alamatar nodded her agreement and rested her head on Belgard's arm, but bolted to her feet, white skirts flying under her black cloak, staff in hand. Belgard was at her side in an instant, hand on the hilt of his sword. The two remained ready to fight until the familiar face of Jesika and three men strode to join them. Each man wore the fire-hawk emblem of Shiall, a group of mercenaries who lent their services to other cities and nations for as much pay as they could get, never questioning an order given.  
  
"I got as many men as I could," Jesika said breathlessly. "I hope it helps." She eyed Link, unconscious and being carried by two of the Shiall, grunting under the work, and went pale at his horrible condition. The other man picked up the sword and other weapons and headed down the street after the first two Shiall. "Will he be okay?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Alamatar sighed and followed the mercenaries down the path. She felt it unnecessary to restate the fact that no one had ever survived past the second day of thrakkan poisoning. In her hand she brought out a brown leather sack, faded from age and wear, and fingered a few coins. Coins the Shiall would most likely demand once they got Link to a doctor.  
  
The moon slightly peeked over the tops of the trees, bright white in the cloudless sky, serene, when the party reached the building with a red bird painted white on the sign. The doctor's house. Belgard pounded heavily on the wooden door, causing it to shake on its loose hinges. After a minute a man dressed in white opened the door a crack, saw Link, and threw it fully open.  
  
"Come in, come in," he beckoned, leading the group down a twist of halls to a large room. Cots filled the center of the room while knives and scissors and other tools lines the walls. Jesika was amazed at how clean everything was especially since many people rested in beds and bloody sheets, wounded by things she would not like to know. "Set him down here."  
  
After Link was put in a cot near a basin of water and the Shiall had been paid, the doctor and an assistant set to work at stripping Link's clothes off. "What happened to him?" the assistant asked, holding what remained of his pants but inspecting his wound. Blood seeped down his leg and stained the sheets black. "It almost looks like.... No. It's not thrakkan poison, is it?"  
  
"Yes, it is," the doctor answered her, looking into Link's blue eyes. "And it looks like at least a full day since he was poisoned, right? That's what I thought." He removed the black cap from Link's head and rested his head against a small pillow. "I'm not sure what I can do about him, but come back tomorrow to see if he survived the night. There is an inn just down the street, The King's Blessing. You can stay there for the night. I trust you can leave by yourselves." The doctor turned his back to the three travelers and concentrated on his new patient.  
  
"Let's go," Alamatar said. "We'll sleep at the inn tonight." She checked to make sure all of Link's weapons were resting under the small bed and left, walking toward the inn.  
  
In her hotel room, Jesika sat uneasily in front of a mirror, brushing her blond hair. She wore a thin gown from Alamatar's small selection of nightclothes. The silk fabric felt smooth and cold against her soft skin. Despite the floor being laid with carpet, her bare feet numbed with cold, and she had to dance them under the desk to push some warmth in them.  
  
Her thoughts drifted to Link, lying in a building not ten houses away; maybe dead, maybe alive. Hopefully alive. Even though she only knew him for not even a month she was as concerned for him as she was for her mother and father, sister and brothers, when she still had a family. Images of Link flashed through her mind, images of that night when Zelda died, and felt sick all over again; the screams of pain echoed in her mind like they happened minutes ago, and the sight of the fire consuming the three Malchadites caused vomit to rise in her throat. She pushed it down and gagged at the taste it left behind.  
  
Not wanting to think about those anymore, Jesika busied herself with her combing. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Link. Stroke. Stroke. Link. Stroke. Link. Link. She threw the comb against the desktop in frustration and walked to her bed. Removing her nightgown and folding it on the ground, she crawled under the thick blanket, accepting its warmth, and shut her eyes, trying to remove all thoughts from her mind. Sleep came hours later, but she embraced its presence warmly.  
  
  
  
  
  
Light shone on her face, rousing her awake. Dressing quickly in her skirt and shirt, Jesika walked out onto the balcony hanging over the town square. Men and women alike hustled down the streets, entering stores or trying to keep their children out of trouble. Hawkers' carts lay wherever there was room, holding fruits and breads of all kinds; some Jesika had not seen before. An indiscernible din of shouts from merchants and buyers caused her head to spin. Might as well spend my day in the town. At least it will get my mind clear.  
  
Jesika quickly walked out of her hotel room and entered into the morning life of Melkaban. The hustle was so much worse than she thought from the balcony; everyone seemed to be in such a hurry and she had been almost knocked over on more than one occasion. Not one person apologized.  
  
As her gaze found the doctor's office, she tore her eyes away. Looking at that building and wondering if Link had survived was too painful for her to think about. Half of her wanted to go see Link, see if he survived while the other half didn't, afraid that he might not have made it, and that half was the one that moved her feet down the roads lined with merchants' carts in the opposite direction of the hospital.  
  
She passed rows of wagons and stalls selling anything from fresh fish to golden jewelry studded with gems of multiple colors. Unlike Hyrule and Bolragade, the men and women crowding the streets in Melkaban were gruff and would rather ignore a person before having to speak to him; at least, that was Jesika's impression. Even stranger, though, was their dress. Instead of the stitched skirt and shirt Jesika wore, the villagers, men and women and children alike, wore one-piece attires with an opening for the head and arms, and a large opening for the legs. The hems of clothes hung just above the ground, and belts made of the same material clasped the thin fabric to their waists. Just the same, the colors, bright and joyful, contrasted with the mixture of houses and buildings.  
  
"Ah, young lady!" A merchant stood behind his cart of necklaces of gold and opal and other jewels she didn't recognize. "How would a gold necklace do you today?" In his hands was an elegant necklace of such fine gold it seemed that it was many thin strands of gold woven together, instead of one thick strand. "Only three hundred gold pieces?" The merchant held the jewelry out in front of her.  
  
"I'm sorry, I have no money." Jesika held up her hands to push the necklace away. She walked toward another cart, this one of freshly baked bread. The mixture of aromas from the bread smelled good to her and her stomach growled, protesting its lack of food.  
  
"Hello, ma'am," the baker greeted warmly. "You look hungry. How about a fresh baked roll or maybe a loaf of honey bread? Nowhere in this town will you find a finer and tastier selection of bread." Again, Jesika explained her lack of money, and the large baker's face became thoughtful. "Well, I can't let a little lady walk away from my cart hungry, so take this." He tore off a large portion of what he called honey bread and handed it to her, which she quickly took and ate it in big bites, walking away after thanking the plump man. "Ah, how are you doing, my fine young sir? Could I interest you in..."  
  
For the next few hours Jesika walked around the town, looking at the many articles of clothing and jewelry lying in carts and wagons, wishing she could buy just one ring or bracelet, but declining each generous offer. Alamatar and Belgard were nowhere to be seen; they might be at the hospital or around the town somewhere, but she was glad to be alone. It took her mind off the present situation. As she strolled down the brick-paved streets a large sign stopped her in her tracks. On it was a green book, open, with the word "LIBRARY" under it. Having nothing else to do, she walked in.  
  
Books, small and large, rested on shelves all over the walls of the room and in the middle in neat rows. Two shelves held more books than any other library she had ever seen in her life. Many people, most looking like scholars or teachers, sat at tables, intently reading the tome resting before their eyes. None paid her any heed except for the librarian. "Can I help you?"  
  
"What? Oh, no thanks. I'm fine. I'm just looking around; I've never seen this many books before in my life."  
  
"Yes, Melkaban is famous for having the largest library in all Malchadia," the librarian said proudly, wrinkles forming a smile. "Students far and wide come here to study for their dissertations. If you need anything, just ask."  
  
Jesika walked down one of the aisles, peering at the many books. Some were stories, some myths and folklore, while others were historical books on ancient kings. Jesika was surprised to find a book--quite a few books--about Hyrule resting on the shelves. Picking up a book titled *Myths and Legends*, she walked to a table and opened it. She was quickly lost in the fascinating stories it held.  
  
"Like your book?" someone asked. Standing at her table was a young man a few years Link's junior, smiling. He had black hair combed flat on his head and green eyes glittering in the sunlight. "May I sit down? Thanks." For a while he sat there reading a book of his own, but Jesika had the feeling that what he was looking at was nowhere to be found on the pages. Finally he asked, "You're not from around here, are you?"  
  
A little thrown off by his presence and question, Jesika stuttered, trying to find the right words. She quickly regained control of her voice. "No, I'm not. I'm from...far off." She knew it sounded stupid the moment the moment the words left her mouth, but she didn't want anyone knowing she was Hylian in case someone was looking for her. "My name's Jesika," she said, trying to get the conversation in a comfortable direction, away from the topic of Hyrule.  
  
"I am Gywan." He gently shook her hand and leaned over the table so no one could hear his next words. "You're from Hyrule, aren't you?" The look of shock on Jesika's face answered his question better than any "yes" could do. He smiled.  
  
"H-how did you know?" Suddenly she wished Link were sitting right next to her, or maybe Belgard. Her safeness in this town vanished as abruptly as a Poe moving about the many fields of Hyrule. She was ready to run at a moment's notice.  
  
He brought his left hand up to the side of her head, ignoring her pulling back, and parted the hair, revealing a pointed ear. His other hand pulled back the hair on the right side of his head, revealing a rounded ear. "Only people of Hyrule have pointed ears. And, besides, the clothing you're wearing is only found in Hyrule; the stitching is not used in any other country."  
  
"You know a lot about Hyrule," Jesika said, not sure whether to be impressed or suspicious. "Do you do a lot of reading?"  
  
"To me, being a full person is to know about anything and everything around you." Once again, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "How did you survive the attack on Hyrule?" His voice was full of excitement and anticipation as he asked his question. "It was very brutal from what I heard, and the only people kept alive were those who surrendered immediately."  
  
Before she knew it, Jesika found herself telling Gywan about everything. About the attack on Bolragade and then the second attack in Hyrule Field, and about Link's battling, and Alamatar and Belgard. She told everything about the battle and down to even Link's fight with the thrakkan and the poisoning. "And now I'm here."  
  
Gywan whistled. "General Link, Hero of Time. No wonder you survived; if Link was fighting for you, there was no way any Malchadite could beat him." Then his face became almost totally serious as a thought came to his mind. "I have something you might want to see." He took a parchment out from a pocket and unrolled it on the table. Jesika gasped. The face on the poster was one she knew well. Link. "A few days ago these signs started showing up. I assume Malchadia wants Link badly, and it's probably best if you leave Melkaban. Now. And never go to any Malchadite town, ever."  
  
Shaking hands took the poster, and unsteady knees lifted Jesika from her chair. "I-I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Gywan."  
  
"Will I be able to talk to you again?" he asked.  
  
"Yes. How about at the library tomorrow morning, four hours after sunrise?" Running out of the library and down the street, Jesika burst into the hotel, looking for Alamatar or Belgard. Preferably Alamatar.  
  
Alamatar's room was empty except for her cloak and staff lying neatly on the floor. Jesika ran back through the common room, ignoring the stares from the men sitting on wooden benches, cups of frothing ale in their hands. Back in the street, the sun was setting, and shadows sprang up in every corner of every building. She ran on down the street, ignoring the sounds coming from houses and the shadows between the houses. All she wanted to do was find Alamatar or anyone else she knew so she could pass on the news.  
  
Rushing into the waiting room, she walked up to the woman behind the desk. "Can you tell me if a woman with light brown hair and red eyes, a little taller than me, has come--" The lady, smiling, pointed to a hall at the side of the room. Two rows of doors stood neatly facing the hall, and candlelight glinted off the copper plaques adorning each.  
  
"They are in room 113." Jesika thanked the lady and headed off into the hall. Room 113's door stood slightly ajar, and she walked in. Lying in his bed was Link, awake, and looking normal except for the dark circles under his eyes. Alamatar and Belgard sat in chairs, both facing Link's bed. The three were deep in conversation.  
  
As the door creaked open the conversation stopped, and Link and Belgard's solemn face became grins. Only Alamatar kept her grave expression before slowly smiling, too. "Here you go lass, take my chair." Belgard left the chair he was sitting in and leaned himself against the wall.  
  
"Well, I see you survived the night. You look better, too," Jesika stated. Link just smiled more, but his eyes seemed distant, as if they were desperately searching for something yet finding nothing.  
  
"It seems this doctor is quite knowledgeable in the areas of poisons and cures. He said I was lucky--very lucky--to survive the night. Especially with the fever I had. No matter. I am alive, and I'm going to keep it that way." Link attempted to shift into a better sitting position, but failed miserably until Belgard pulled him up. "As you can see, my strength is not back yet."  
  
"Link, you need to see this." Jesika handed the now crumpled piece of paper over to Link who unfolded it. "Someone showed this to me a little while ago."  
  
"Yes, I've seen it already," he said as he recognized the crumpled face on the large paper. "What do you mean 'someone showed this to you already'?" he asked nonchalantly as he threw the poster on the floor. "You didn't tell anybody, did you?"  
  
She bit her lip, not knowing how to respond. "Link, I'm really sorry. It's just that I had no one to talk to, and he was a good listener. He's very smart and I'm sure he would have found out at some point. He recognized me as Hylian right away. I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist telling him, with his smile...I'm sorry."  
  
Link smiled. "It's okay. We'll be gone as soon as I can get out of bed. And you didn't tell him where we were going; we haven't settled on anything yet." He sunk back down in his bed. "Now let me get some rest." He turned his back and was soon asleep.  
  
The other three headed off to their hotel rooms, too. Jesika couldn't wait for the next day. Maybe she could learn some more about Gywan or the world outside of Hyrule.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next day Jesika sat in the library at the same table from the day before when she met Gywan. Alamatar sat at her side. "Alamatar, do you know when Link will be well enough to walk? I don't feel right staying here anymore. Not with Link and me wanted people."  
  
Alamatar gave a short, almost melancholic laugh. "You're not the only wanted people. Belgard and I are wanted all over Malchadia. It's just a shame you guys won't have any freedom in this wretched country. Not with Link on priority bounty and signs everywhere with his face on them."  
  
"What do you mean you are wanted all over Malchadia?" Jesika asked, interested in the mysterious woman's past. She had become friends with the brown-haired woman quickly, but there were many things Alamatar had not talked about. Before she could answer Gywan arrived at the table.  
  
"Who's she?" he asked, sitting down in the chair opposite Alamatar's. The same smile from yesterday was on his face.  
  
"Huh? Oh. This is Alamatar. I'm traveling with her. I told her all about you, and she wanted to meet you." Jesika turned her gaze away from looking into his sparkling green eyes.  
  
"Nice to meet you, Setting Alamatar. Or do you prefer to be called just Alamatar?"  
  
Suddenly, Alamatar's body went rigid and her voice turned dangerously hard while her hands gripped the table's edge severely. She half rose and grabbed the collar of his coat, bringing his face to hers. "Never call me by that title. *Ever*. Do you understand me?" She looked around to make sure no one had heard. No one did, or at least they weren't letting on that they had.  
  
"As you wish," he said, a smile on his lips. "I guess it is dangerous to speak of who...what you really are, or were." Alamatar threw him back into his chair.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Jesika asked. "What's so dangerous?" Jesika didn't know what they were referring to, and she never liked being left out of a conversation.  
  
"You mean you don't know?" Gywan looked at Alamatar curiously. Before she could signal him to silence, he went on. "Your friend here was one of the most dangerous fighters in the entire country. I'm sure she still is."  
  
"Alamatar, what is he talking about?" Jesika placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.  
  
The look on Alamatar's face said she disliked speaking of that topic, and for a while she was silent before finally saying a word. "Talking about it brings up painful memories, but here goes. Three years ago, Belgard and I served as the King of Malchadia's...secret guards. We were the best of the best and took all our missions without one question as to who our target was, or why. But one time we received a mission about a renegade general who was causing trouble all over the country Siwann. The King wanted him taken out, and he wanted us to take his son so the boy could learn what exactly the Setting Suns do, and how they do it." Alamatar brought out a small red sigil looking like a crimson sun and showed Jesika.  
  
"This little disk the King gave to me, and Belgard, granted us the power to do almost anything we pleased. I don't know why I keep it." The distaste in her voice was as burning as acid. "Well, we found the general, and once we had picked off his men and had him cornered, the King's son *had* to interfere. It turns out the son was once a friend of the general, and he stood in our way, keeping us from completing our job. He left us no choice; after many attempts to coax him out of the way, Belgard drove his sword through both son and general. When the King heard about what we did, he arrested us and almost killed us. Almost.  
  
"In a last ditch effort to escape, Belgard cut through the ranks of the Malchadite soldiers, I right behind him killing those he missed. We were forced into Malchadia's wildlife, never being able to stay in any village too long; there was always somebody who recognized us. After that Belgard and I gave up that life and started anew. Anybody we came across who needed help we helped, instead of scoffing at them and marching on our way. Then we came across two people who needed our help most of all: you and Link. When we saw both of you sleeping in the grass, we promised each other we would help you with whatever you and Link wanted, for as long as it took." Her eyes and voice hinted there was something left unsaid, but Jesika didn't question Alamatar. She already had spoken of something that brought back upsetting memories. "I'm surprised you haven't called any of the guards," she said to Gywan. "You do know who we are."  
  
"It's my job to know about these things," he replied modestly. "Not my job to have people thrown in jail. Besides, you don't learn anything if your only resource is dead."  
  
The look Alamatar shot him was that of suspicion, and she stood, brown tresses resting on the shoulders of her white gown. "I don't know what you're hinting at, but I have business to take care of elsewhere," she said, "so I will get to the point. You know more than you should about my companions and me, therefore I leave you with two choices: come with my friends and me or I won't have to worry about you telling anyone anything. You choose."  
  
Gywan smiled. "Well, there is no point in violence if it can be avoided. And I can learn a lot more outside of the confining walls of Melkaban, so I think I will come with you." His smile remained, but his eyes carried a look that said he was less than pleased with his options.  
  
"Good. Jesika, take your friend and get to Link's room by nightfall. That's when we leave." She walked out of the library doors and headed down the street.  
  
  
  
  
  
Link stretched his muscles. It feels good to be able to walk again. Even though he was bedridden for a short while his muscles felt as if he had been in bed for months. The medicine the doctor gave him brought back his energy and strength but didn't lessen the stiffness.  
  
Link stood in the middle of the floor, wearing nothing but thin shorts. His blond hair lay matted against his muscular back, and a pair of slippers kept his feet from touching the cold floor. His clothes--tunic, boots, cap, and Zelda's ribbon--rested in the closet along with his weapons.  
  
Belgard stood beside Link, ready to catch him should he fall. In Link's hand was Galadhad, blade swinging in blazing arcs as his arm danced through a series of slashes and thrusts. Link practiced his sword techniques, narrowly avoiding slicing the glass ewer and wooden dresser in two. "It feels good to get the kinks out," Link muttered to no one in particular, stretching his arms and legs before resuming his exercises. He stopped in mid-swing as the door clicked open and Jesika walked in. An unfamiliar boy entered behind her.  
  
When she saw Link her cheeks flushed and she turned her gaze to the floor. "Link," Jesika said, brushing a stray strand of light hair out of her face. "This is Gywan. You know, the one I told you about last night."  
  
"Hello," Link said, nodding to the black-haired boy, and scabbarded his sword. Belgard, too, introduced himself.  
  
Gywan's eyes glittered when Belgard spoke, as if he knew Belgard from somewhere, but Link didn't ask about that. Instead, Belgard asked, "Have you seen Ala--"  
  
Just as the words came out of his mouth the door opened again and Alamatar strode in, three cloaks in her arms and a pair of black pants. "Put these on," she commanded, handing a pitch-black cloak to Jesika and Gywan. She left Link's cloak and the black pants on the bed. "Come on, Jesika. We'll wait for the men in the waiting room."  
  
"That might not be the wisest of decisions." Gywan was peering out the small window. "I think I see Malchadite troops walking up to the hospital."  
  
Immediately Belgard was by his side, looking out the window, also. "I see at least thirteen soldiers. It's too dark to tell if they are anyone special, though, but they know we're here."  
  
"Then let us get out of here," Link said, standing in front of the door. He was dressed in his new pair of black pants and his tunic adorned by the many medals of past victories. His sword was slung across his back with his bow and quiver, and his hookshot rested at his belt. The black cloak was clasped together by two golden buttons near the neck with a small gold chain connecting the two and hung almost to the floor despite Link's tall height.  
  
The hallway was quiet. Nothing stirred in any of the rooms, and the creaks of the floorboards sounded as if they should have alerted every Malchadite within a mile of where they were. "Is there a back door?" Jesika asked, her voice squeaky with fear. Link moved and stood next to Jesika, guarding the rear of the group while Belgard took the lead.  
  
"There they are!" a man shouted behind them. A man dressed in a blue cleaning uniform stood at the end of hall, pointing at them, and three Malchadite soldiers advanced toward Link and his party. Two men carried swords while the other held a spear that almost touched the ceiling.  
  
Link placed a hand on Jesika's back and pushed her into Belgard's arms. "Get out of here!" Leaving the others behind, he shouldered the nearest soldier to the ground and punched the other two, one in the face, one in the chest. The man Link rammed to the ground squirmed and attempted to get up. He never got close to getting back on his feet, for Link pulled out the dagger at the enemy's belt and threw it into his stomach. The knife cleanly cut through the leather armor, and the Malchadite screamed in pain, squirming in his own blood around the blade that held him transfixed to the floor. Link smiled cruelly at the agonizing soldier and placed a foot on his face, smashing it inward.  
  
The next Malchadite lunged at Link with his spear but it was easily dodged. A quick blow to the neck and he sagged to floor, dead. One more to go. This man eyed Link with fear in his eyes, but that didn't stop him from attacking. The enemy's sword swung faster than could be thought in the narrow halls and would have hit Link's shoulder had a wooden staff not deflected the blow and been slammed into the foe's stomach. Alamatar was at his side and brought her staff twirling around again, this time hitting his temple with the large knot. A sharp crack reverberated through the halls and he fell to the ground, on top of his dead companion.  
  
"I told you to get going," Link said calmly, inspecting one of the dead bodies. They were no different from any of the other Malchadites he saw before he fled from Hyrule--same armor and weapons--except one wore a yellow sun insignia on his breast. Link took it and placed it in a pocket.  
  
"We ran into a few more friends." Looking behind her, Link saw two dead bodies sprawled across the floor. Jesika stood by the wall looking paler than clean bed sheets. She had to place a hand on a doorknob to keep from falling, and her face looked sick.  
  
"Let's leave," Alamatar suggested, and Jesika was all the happier to comply. Before they left, though, Gywan picked up the long spear and sawed the bottom off until it was as tall as himself, only an inch or two shorter than Link. "You know how to fight with one of those?" Alamatar raised an eyebrow curiously at him.  
  
"I spent years as a child spearing fish and throwing javelins. This is no different than spear-fishing besides the fact that I'm not aiming for fish." He was the last one to leave the hospital behind and enter into the darkness.  
  
Belgard was in the lead, taking them through the alleys and side roads. Jesika's trembling hands clasped firmly to Link's arm and he followed closely behind Belgard. Taking up the rear was Gywan, swinging his spear in small circles and arcs, and Alamatar, constantly looking over her shoulder for signs of someone following them. No one gave pursuit.  
  
They passed through a labyrinth of side passages and alleyways, running from voices they heard drifting through the night air, despite most of them being from families eating their dinner who knew nothing of what was happening. The slightest of sounds caused the hair on the back of Link's neck to rise. Without having to ask--his friends' faces said it all--Link knew what everyone was thinking. How did they find us?  
  
The alley ended right at the front gate. Link was surprised no guards were patrolling the area. "Where is everyone? I'd expect there to be at least one guard around here--"  
  
"They don't need a guard," a voice, proud and arrogant, said from the shadows of a large tree. "Not right now at least." As the man emerged, the moonlight cast a faint glow on his face. A large scar, dark and red, ran down his eyeless socket and disappeared behind a black eye-patch with a red eye painted on it. "It's been a long time since a saw you last, Alamatar."  
  
"Go away. I have nothing more to do with you," Alamatar said viciously. Her hands groped the hard wooden staff until her knuckles whitened. An angry glare pierced the man standing before them.  
  
"Can't do that. Xeros wants you so very much, and will do anything, give anything for you." Silently, the long sword in the scabbard on Link's back came out of its resting-place, and laid firm in his hand. Link could here the chattering of Jesika's teeth even with her mouth closed tight. "You can put your sword away, general. It will be much easier on you if you and the girl surrender willingly."  
  
Link kept his sword out and stood in front of Jesika who was more than happy to be behind him. His blood was boiling in his veins and his heart pulsed with anger. "None of us are surrendering at all. Especially not to the likes of you, Malchadite."  
  
"Oho," the man laughed. "Is that the best you can do?" Link stood firm and gritted his teeth, contemplating on whether he should kill him or stay with his friends.  
  
"Link, we have to get out of here," Jesika urged from behind him. "Look at the streets." Already, men covered in armor wielding swords were rushing toward them down the road. She placed a quivering hand on his arm, trying to get him to put his sword away, but in vain. All too soon the soldiers were upon them, forming a circle around the group with Link and the scarred man in the center.  
  
"Why, general, you seem so unhappy to once again be able travel the world; I thought you would be glad to be free from your slut of a princess," he taunted and fell backwards as Link drove his fist into his chest. Had the man been wearing armor, the blow would still have been enough to knock the wind from his lungs.  
  
"*Never* refer to Zelda like that." Link stood over the man, the tip of his sword against the fallen man's neck. "Or you will regret the day your mother and father laid eyes on each other. Do you understand me?"  
  
He just laughed, and his scar pulled tight across his face. "You best rethink what you are doing." He gave a sigh. "I pity you. You escaped the weapons of Malchadia only to be delivered into the hands of another weapon. A weapon who appears to be helping you, but I wonder what she really has up her sleeves? Don't look so confused, Link"--his name was said with an ugly sneer--"you should no whom I'm talking about. Or has she not said who--what she is?"  
  
"Shut up!" Alamatar shouted. Her staff had a dark glow around it. "Do not say a word!"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Link asked, as confused as Jesika was. Regardless, Link brought Galadhad's tip down into the soldier's neck, producing a small trickle of blood.  
  
"Oh, you don't know your new friend is a killer?" he rasped, struggling to speak around the sword tip. "My, my, Alamatar; do you not trust people--your own friends--that much to tell them a little secret?" He went right on speaking to Link, not giving her time to respond. "Had your friend not screwed up on a mission a while back she and Belgard would have led the attack on Hyrule, and I guarantee you: you would not have survived that attack. Isn't that right, Alamatar, Belgard?"  
  
The glow around Alamatar's staff intensified. "I told you not to say a word, slime!" She held the staff so that had she been in Link's place she probably would have driven the sword into his neck.  
  
"You always were a little short of temper," the Malchadite said. "It's only a shame you can't keep it under control. Although, I have to admit, you have the face of a thrakkan whose nest is being destroyed when you let your anger get the best of you." He turned his lone eye back to Link. "I'm surprised you still accompany such a battle-axe, but then you've never seen her ugly side. When she gets really angry sometimes she really shows the monster she--"  
  
"SHUT UP!" Alamatar roared, and the nimbus glowing around her staff, and body, shot out from her in all directions. Belgard had barely enough time to tell his companions to make sure their cloak covered their bodies before he was thrown to the ground. The force of Alamatar's magic hurled Link away from the Malchadite, and Jesika and Gywan fell against a wall. Black lances of energy flew from her staff and outstretched arm, catching the standing soldiers in the chest, lifting them into the air before sending them plummeting to the grassy floor with gurgling gasps. "You will regret your words," Alamatar said dangerously to the man still on the ground, still alive. Spears of black lightning, blacker than pitch, rained from the sky and struck at the man's body, leaving nothing but black spots where they struck. After the first bolt the man was dead.  
  
"Alamatar, *stop*!" Belgard shouted, getting up from where he lay face first in the grass. In another moment he had placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. All of a sudden she snapped as she was freed from her trance, and the deadliness of her eyes, the anger too, vanished as she took in what was around her. Her friends were lying on the ground--Link face-up many feet away; Jesika kneeling on the floor, emptying her stomach; Gywan gazing wide-eyed from the stone foundation of a nearby house. Dead bodies with swirling black pikes sticking from their chests littered the ground, and a body, almost unrecognizable, lay at her feet. The grass she stood on was withered like vines in a desert that had not had water in ages.  
  
"What have I done?" she asked, dropping to her knees. Link could hear muttered curses from Alamatar, faint as they were. "Artaemia help me, what have I done?" She bolted to her feet, unconsciously throwing off Belgard's hand and ran. Ran to the exit and into the woods, face buried in her hands. Link thought he heard faint sobs, then he, too, was on his feet and running after her with Belgard in front. Gywan and Jesika were right on their heels. All were anxious and grateful to be away from Melkaban.  
  
  
  
  
  
Soon the bodies lying around the entrance to Melkaban were forgotten by both Link and his company and the villagers; they let Malchadia tend to their own problems and their own dead. No one neared the pile of corpses, fearing something would jump from the shadows and attack. But one body was still among the living, still strongly holding on to the breath flowing through his lungs. The black charred spots on his arms and chest and stomach vanished as if they were mere illusions, and the man climbed to his feet. The wound made from the tip of that accursed sword was the only injury on his body. At least, it better be. The scar on his face pulled even tighter across his face as he looked frowningly into the shadows around a small house, now barely standing on its foundation. "Galvin, come out."  
  
A small old man hobbled out of the darkest of the shadows, limping on his left leg. His graying hair laid unkempt on his head; snarls and snags collected in small lumps around his head. He had a gray beard that, more than once, almost got caught under his feet. "Yes, Setting Reggin, what may I do for you?" he asked, leaning heavily on a stick used as a cane. The words painfully came out of his mouth and his breathing was hard.  
  
"Galvin, have the remaining Rising Suns bury the dead soldiers where they lay. Tell them to touch the bodies as little as possible." Reggin looked out towards the forest in which they escaped and fingered the red sun on his breast. "Find the doctor of the hospital they were staying at, and the innkeeper whose inn they slept at, and kill them. Cut off their heads and post them on stakes at the entrance to this town with a sign saying, 'All who help the enemies of Malchadia become enemies themselves, and this punishment will make yours seem like a blessing.' "  
  
"And what of their bodies, Setting?" Galvin asked with anticipation, his breath back to normal, partly with the help of the white aura that flowed through and around his body. "What should we do about the already dead villagers, and the sick ones?"  
  
"Chop the bodies up and place the pieces next to the sign. Post a guard if you have to, but I want those bodies to remain there until they rot beyond recognition. See to it personally, Mage Galvin. As for the sick and the dead, let them take care of themselves; it will teach them not to care for fugitives. You have your orders." The old man scurried away as best he could while Reggin cast his eyes back on the forest. I will have you, Alamatar. You and Link, and there is nothing you can do except run. I promise, next time we meet you *will* not leave until your wrists have been shackled and you have been beaten to nothing more than a bloody rag. Placing a hand to his neck and wiping the dried blood away, he stalked back through the city, wanting to return to Calystra, the capital city of Malchadia, where his manor is. There, at least, he could plan his next move. 


	3. Memories

Link didn't know how far he ran, or how long; all he knew was that he ran far into the night, deeper into the forest. Twigs grabbed onto his clothing and broke free of their tree as he bolted by. Many times the dark growth of vines tangled under his feet, nearly tripping him, but he ran on. Somewhere in front of him was Alamatar--he could not see her, only hear her feet crunching the dead leaves. Belgard, too, was in front and the soft thud of feet on the ground led him on. Link didn't know where Gywan or Jesika were.

Link's breath grew ragged and each breath of air felt as if his lungs were being scraped against rough, jagged granite. By the time he felt as if he could not take another step, Belgard abruptly stopped. Link slammed into the man's back and stumbled backwards, relieved he did not have to go on anymore. He rested himself against a tree, ignoring the lumps of bark that cut into his back as he tried to get his wind back. A few minutes later Gywan caught up to them with Jesika just behind him.

"Where's Alamatar?" Jesika asked, spying around the trees, hoping to find her friend. The shadows made it hard to see, but she knew Alamatar was nowhere to be found. "Aren't we going to follow her? She's getting away!"

"No, lass," Belgard replied sadly. "It's best to let her run. With what's happened, it's just best to let her run. When she is ready she'll come back." He started searching the area around the trees where they stood, and came back within a matter of minutes. "This is as good a place as any. Link, give me a hand setting up camp." For the next hour or two Link and Belgard cleared out a small area of trees using their swords, and Gywan and Jesika collected dead leaves, making them into four piles, four crude beds. The leaves circled a small fire, casting contorted, twisted shadows around the camp; everyone made sure the mounds were far enough away that a stray spark wouldn't light the entire site afire.

Link stayed awake late into the night, wondering where his friend was and thinking about what that Malchadite said. _I don't know what he meant by those, by I will find out soon enough. In the meantime I had better get some sleep._ "Just come back soon, Alamatar," he muttered, and thought he heard Jesika, who lying just ahead of him, sound her own soft agreement, .

Alamatar ran and ran, heedless of where she was going; she just wanted to get away. Branches grabbed at her arms, legs, hair, but she broke them off with her staff. Her feet carried her fast away from Belgard and Link, and deeper into the forest. The malicious cries of animals of the night did little to scare her; what she did, what she had promised _not_ to do ever again scared her even more.

She cursed as an unseen root, convoluted with age, carried her feet out from under her. That was just as well, for she was tired of running, but it didn't stop the fear, the anger, from stabbing at her. She brought her hands from her sides and slammed them into the rough bark of the tree. Again, and again, she vented her emotions into her pounding fists, not caring that her knuckles were scraped raw and bleeding down her fingers. After moments she put a little magic into a fist and knocked the entire old elm to the ground. When she saw the wilted grass lying limp on the forest floor, even more anger coursed through body. So badly she wanted to send flaming rain to burn the entire accursed forest, but she knew it would do no good.

She fell to her knees. More sobs racked her body and tears that had not fallen from her eyes for some time flowed down her cheeks. "I did it again, Artaemia," she cried to the forest. "I let my anger get a hold of me and I Casted again. More innocent people died because of me and my anger. Why did I have to be born with such a horrible gift?" She thought--wished--she could hear the comforting voice of her friend saying it would be alright, that everything would be okay as it had many times before, the voice that had been with her for all of her life except the past three years, but she knew she had only heard the wind whistling emptily through the trees; the voice she hoped for was dead. Curling up into a ball, she wept until sweet sleep came upon her.

Over an hour later--Link didn't bother counting how many--he still laid awake in his jumbled piled of leaves, now scattered around from his constant turning. He didn't know if anyone else was still awake, but from Jesika's squirming and Gywan's tossing he assumed no one had gotten to sleep.

"Link, are you still awake?" a soft voice whispered. Somehow in all her twisting and turning Jesika had switched around so her face was right next to Link's. She sounded as awake as Link felt. "Link, how long do you think it will be before Alamatar comes back?"

Link didn't want to think about how long it could be, not at all. "I don't think it will be long, Jesika. Now go to sleep." _I hope she will not be long. Waiting in this forest is not my idea of a pleasant time._ He shifted his head around on his arms and looked straight into Jesika's blue, compassion-filled eyes.

"Do you think Alamatar will be alright?" she asked. The soft glow of the embers cast shadows over her eyes, making them look like those of a dog nuzzling its dead master's hand, desperately awaiting the limp fingers to scratch its ears. "Do you?"

Before Link could answer there was a rustling of leaves, and Belgard was sitting up on his leaf pile. "Yes, I told you Alamatar will be okay, and she will, lass. She will." Then, more softly, "This is not the first time something like this has happened." Link was not sure whether Belgard meant for everyone to hear, or if it was a personal thought.

"What do you mean? 'This isn't the first time something like this has happened'?" Jesika leaned closer to Belgard, a look on her face expecting an answer. "Please tell me."

Belgard smiled where he sat, the glow of the almost-dead fire making his face look like a demon's. "The joys of youth, hearing is. I wasn't sure whether you would have heard or not. I wish you hadn't."

"Well, I have heard and I'm sure Link has, too. So tell me what you mean."

"Do you really want to hear, lass? It is not very pleasant to listen to." Belgard let out a soft sigh. "I thought so. Maybe I should start three and half years ago…"

Belgard strode down the white granite walkway taking him through a maze of flowers and trees. Blossoms had just begun to bloom in whites and reds and pinks, and finches and sparrows, all shades of yellow and blue, sang in their newly-made nests in the trees. Hummingbirds went about their business sucking nectar from purple and red spring-flowers. The sun hung high and bright in the clear, cloudless sky, and red-breasted robins basked in the light. The grass growing between the cracks of the delicately placed stone was rich and green. A small breeze wafted through the garden, swaying the tall daffodils, and a calico cat lazily lay on one large branch of an elm, high above the ground.

_I'll have to commend my gardener; he did a good job this year._ He walked on the path for quite some time, having nothing better to do. It had been months before he had finally received some time to be by himself, to sleep peacefully in his own bed, to walk his gardens. He knew Alamatar was doing the same at her manor; she desperately needed to be back in her own home, especially after being away from it for over three months on their last mission.

Belgard followed the trail for another hour until the soft thumps of padded feet caused him to look up and see a manservant running down the stone towards him. A flash of anger crossed over his eyes and face, making the servant stumble and nearly fall, but it was gone just as fast. "I said I wanted no interruptions while I was in gardens, Retrae," he said coldly to the man standing uncomfortably under his piercing gaze.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry, Setting Belgard," he stuttered, and took two deep breaths. More calmly: "A courier just arrived with this letter, my Lord. He said it was urgent." An almost shaking hand gave the letter over to Belgard before the servant was dismissed back to the manor. Flipping the letter over, he broke the seal of the king--a half crimson, half golden sun rising and setting over the horizon--and quickly read the words written in an elegant hand:

__

Setting Belgard,

You have been commanded to appear at the Royal Sun's chamber at noon. There is some news that must be discussed. Alamatar will join you.

Don't be late.

Belgard grimaced. _The king has a lot of nerve cutting my vacation short. There had better be a good reason for this._ Stalking down the granite trail in great strides, he reached his large manor. More of a castle, really, but by law the only man who could live in a castle was the king. "Get my horse ready," he told one of the maidservants and she rushed off to the stables. After grabbing his sword--two-handed for most people, but only one for him--and his black cloak and crimson-sun sigil, he made his way to the stable yard. His horse, a large war-horse, standing tall on gray legs with a gray body speckled in black, was all ready to go.

Without a word to any of the maids or menservants, he jumped onto the horse and set himself into the gleaming, leather saddle, and led his horse down the stone brick walkway and out into the dirt street, now muddy from the previous night's rain, that would lead him down into the city. Men and women crowded the streets, but all moved as fast as they could out of the way of the large animal and its rider; Belgard's cold gaze and his sword, practically poised to draw itself, hurried the people even more.

Men and women steered clear of even coming close to him, but little children rushed up to the horse and patted its gray head and its flank before their mothers shooed them away and shot him a dark look. He didn't care; what other people thought or felt of him was not his business.

After half an hour of riding, the large castle loomed overhead. By far larger than Belgard's mansion, and Alamatar's, it was carved from a solid black stone by stonemasons thousands of years dead. Four turrets made the corners of the castle, long and high, higher than the rest of the castle. Arrow slits, more than could be counted, were cut from the black stone of each corner, and Belgard knew that there was at least one archer for each slit. Black marble gargoyles watched faithfully from their places around the castle walls, some with mouths open in a snarl, others with wings spread and claws ready to strike. To anyone not used to the magnificence of the Castle of Light, it would take the breath from their lungs, but Belgard passed through the black iron gates of the Castle with not a second glance.

He walked down the dirt path, a half-mile in length with even more glorious flowers and trees and wildlife than his own gardens, until he reached the closed wooden doors leading into the castle. Intricately carved into the massive doors was a magnificent sun, both rising and setting, rays of light covering the farmlands and plains, lakes and rivers. The doors were made of wood from trees long since extinct and were as old as the stone walls to which they were attached. Three steps, black and precisely laid, led up to the small floor before the entrance. Two guards stood on the floor in front of the doorway with their ornate spears held high in the air. Both wore the crystal hanging-sun pins of the Light Suns, the guards of the Castle of Light.

"Light," Belgard addressed the soldier standing closest to him. "Take my horse to the stables and make sure he is well groomed and fed." The man hurried off with the horse's reins in hand as Belgard walked up to the massive doors. The second Light Sun placed a hand on the door and pushed it open, sweeping his body in a deep bow. The doors swung open with great ease, despite their size, on silent hinges. An echoing boom sounded behind him as they were closed again.

The hall in which he stood branched off into three corridors leading deeper into the heart of the palace; Belgard followed the red velvet carpet down the center one. Golden torches worked with silver and studded with precious gems hung in their decorated brackets, the fire lighting the entire passage with a rich orange glow. Small tables, some holding priceless porcelain vases, others holding large bouquets of flowers, were placed throughout the hall in the space after every door. Where there were no stands there were paintings of earlier rulers, some even dating back to two thousand years before the current king, Xeros.

Walking in the direction he was coming from was a woman of average height with flowing red hair almost touching the floor and bright hazel eyes. She wore a high neck-lined red dress tailored to fit the curves of her body, and it flowed in waves behind her as she strode down the hall; the stitch of her dress was from the country Siwann, a land over four hundred miles down the Strangl River to the southern portion of the Niil Sea. The thin slippers she wore made soft scrunching noises on the carpet. Four guards, two in front and two in back, guided her down the lit corridor, their hands on sword hilts as they passed Belgard. The guards' eyes never left him until they were safely down the hallway. Belgard smirked; even the High Lady, the most powerful person in Siwann besides the Queen Aritha, was cautious around him.

Another turn down a second, even more glorious chamber brought him to the chambers of King Xeros, the Sun of Malchadia. The ornate doors were embossed with the three phases of the sun: the rising sun, the hanging sun, and the setting sun. Each one was painted in brilliant reds and oranges and yellows and precious metals and gems covered most of the work. As Belgard approached the grand doors two Light Suns pushed them open with bows, and he walked into the antechamber.

Standing against one of the walls was Alamatar. Her face said she was not happy being there but that was the only sign, and no one could tell she was unhappy unless they knew her quite well. Each time he saw her a renewed sense of amazement coursed through his body; thinking of how far this woman had gotten in just three years made him think the world was almost not filled with no-talent idiots. _Woman? She's just barely old enough to be away from home._ Three years ago when she joined to be a Rising Sun, Belgard laughed; a fifteen year-old _girl _joining the hardest training course in the entire Malchadite empire seemed utter nonsense to him. When she flew through the training exercises and mastered the staff and spear techniques and received her promotion to Light Sun in less than a year--faster than he earned his promotion--he was completely surprised and took her to train until she became a Setting Sun, a year later. In just a year and a half she had made her reputation as one of the deadliest fighters in the entire country, a reputation that took him nearly five years to make. _But that magic of hers helped her along greatly._

"Good morning, Belgard," Alamatar greeted, her red eyes replacing its annoyance with gladness. Her staff clicked on the tiled floor. She was wearing her usual garb: a white gown designed for rugged travel yet elegant for a ball, white leather boots that extended to her upper thighs, and a black cloak covering her slim body. Her brown tresses gently lay on the back of her cloak.

"He better have a good reason calling me off my leave so early," Belgard grumped, but was not entirely displeased; he could be stuck doing this alone; he had half expected her not to come, because of her homesickness.

For over an hour the two sat in the plush chairs, waiting to be admitted into the king's inner chamber. By the time Belgard was about to knock the door down, a woman dressed in fine linens approached them. "The Sun will see you now. Please follow me."

She led them past the closed doors and into a room as elegant as the antechamber, if not more. Paintings of Xeros, from the most skilled painter in Malchadia, decorated the room between gilded lamps holding anywhere from five to ten lit candles. The carpet was still the soft, red velvet but its cleanliness was much more distinct. His bed, a four-poster, was three feet of down mattresses with daily-changed sheets of fine cotton and stood a foot off the floor. Thin curtains hung from the carved wooden beams at the knobs on top of each post, just thick enough to veil any specific detail of the person sleeping in the bed. A rug lay in the middle of the room, worked with rubies and emeralds and other colorful gems, threaded with gold and silver in intricate patterns. The king himself sat in a chair almost as magnificent as his throne. Belgard bowed at his waist and Alamatar curtsied, much to their distaste.

"Alamatar, Belgard, how nice to see you," he said, a smile on his face. It quickly faded when he saw the serious looks they gave him. "You must be wondering why I called your vacation short? Yes, I thought so." He walked over to a red oak desk and pulled a parchment out of a drawer. Untying the strings that held it closed, he pulled out two identical pieces of paper and gave one to each Setting. "I have been talking with the High Lady Arian, and it seems that that general who was most unhappy with your last assassination has decided to cause trouble in Siwann."

Belgard flipped through the multiple pages, reading each one carefully. Alamatar was doing the same. "Well, that's very unfortunate," she said, "but what do you want us to do?" From the tone in her voice, Belgard thought she did not exactly like the ideas that were going through her head. He did not like them, either.

"It's only a small army, maybe one, two hundred soldiers at best. All I really need is for you to kill General--ex-General--Zalargh. The soldiers will not give you much trouble when he is dead." Xeros sat back down in his padded chair.

"But why us?" Alamatar demanded. She was one of the only people in the entire Malchadite empire that dared question him openly. "There are other Setting Suns you could use, who _aren't_ on leave."

"Yes, but you are my best. As the years progress the men who choose to be a Rising are weaker and weaker. Most drop out after the first three months. Those who become Lights are not as good as those who joined ten years ago. The Lights who are promoted--only because Malchadia needs Setting Suns--are poorer fighters to those that were around before my reign. You two are my best Settings, possibly the best in hundreds of years, and I need a guarantee that Zalargh will be killed; he must not be left alive."

"But--" Alamatar began.

"You are going, Setting Alamatar," the king said sternly. "I will not hear another word of it."

"Yes, my Sun." Alamatar hated having to concede anything and stalked for the door, her staff thumping on the ground in anger.

"One more thing, you two." Xeros' pleasant mood returned. "My son wants to start his Sun training soon, so I have decided to let him tag along with you. To see how a good, effective Setting completes his mission." Out of the door at the end of the room entered the king's sun, Barain. "From this point on, until you return, he is under your command. You may leave now, all three of you."

Alamatar stalked out of the chamber and the anteroom into the hall. Belgard was on her heels, and Barain was shouting down from the outer chamber's doorway, telling them to slow down. "Oh, that…that _man_! He is so stubborn! He could send a legion of Rays, but instead he wants us to do it. And why? Because that Arian woman got him into bed, saying how delightful it would be if it were Settings who killed the general, and he couldn't resist her after she had had her way with him."

Belgard agreed; an army of the Rays of Light, the soldiers of Malchadia, could easily take out Zalargh and any forces he had. "Our mission has already been set. Shouting about it won't help at all."

She gave a sigh. "Yeah, but it makes me feel better. Anyway, I guess we better leave tonight, and the extra baggage we have to carry won't help much. He's as stuck up as those nobles over in Caldior." They walked in silence for a time until they walked out of the Castle and into the daylight. The king's son had caught up with them.

"Listen, you dirt," he scolded. "When I tell you to do something, you do it, hear me? I am the Prince of Malchadia and you are just soldiers. I'll forgive your insubordination this one time, but if you do it again, I'll have you in the dungeons so fast it will make you head spin."

Belgard turned on him, his blue eyes glaring down to stare into Barain's. The boy cowered down a little. "You hear me," he said, his heavy accent making his voice sound even more commanding. "Your father, the _Sun_, put you under our command. That means we do what we want, we tell you to do what we want, and you will not question us. It's bad enough you are coming with us that we don't want your attitude, so you will drop it by dusk before we board the boat. Do you understand?" Belgard walked along, Alamatar at his side, saying to him, "If you plan on being a Rising Sun--no matter what nobility; they don't care if you ruled the world--the trainers are much harsher than I am and will not put up with your behavior."

"Ha. Shows how much you know. My father is promoting me straight to Setting." Barain held himself a little higher, as if he thought he were better than every other person in the world, which he probably did. Belgard wondered if the prince made that up or if Xeros was being a fool; the king was far from dumb, but sometimes he made fortunetellers look like wise sages.

Alamatar bit her lip to keep from laughing, but the smile almost split her face in two. Belgard gave a harsh laugh. "Your father is taking you right to Setting Sun, is he? Do you even know the basics of fighting?"

"Of course I do," the prince retorted. "What do you think I do at my training sessions?"

_Sit under a tree, ignore you sword trainer, and flirt with the maids who walk by._ "If you can fight, punch me. Don't hold back; give me the hardest, fastest punch you can."

Barain pulled his fist back. Doing just that small move caused a group of people to surround the two Setting Suns and Prince of Malchadia, all eager to see what was going to happen. "I must warn you, I have a pretty hard punch." He shot his hand out towards Belgard's chest. As agile as a cat Belgard moved out of the way and twisted Barain's arm until it rested in the small of his back. Suddenly Barain found himself hunched over, staring at the muddy ground.

"First, boy, you had better learn how to fight before you learn how to kill. An assassin is no good dead." He kicked behind the prince's knee, and Barain fell face-first into the mud. Belgard turned and left the boy where he sat as many women helped him to his feet, wiping his face and readjusting his dirtied shirt.

"You can have dinner at my house tonight, Belgard. If you wish," Alamatar invited, trying as best she could to keep from laughing.

"I think I will." Belgard followed his friend down a dirt road to the outskirts of the city, where farmland replaced the houses, and trees and rocks replaced the city-dwellers. Her mansion was almost as big as his, but instead of having luscious botanical gardens she had orchards and vineyards and groves. The trees were in the prettiest stage of their bloom, and gardeners carefully pruned each branch so as not to hinder the growth of the fruit. Her manor was made of travertine, and marble pillars supported the overhang over the large wooden doors. Large windows were cut into the face of the house, making it easy to see in, but Alamatar did not care; no one could see in from where they stood outside the high iron fence.

Every night the light from the sunset shone into the windows, hence the reason they were made so big. Once Belgard had seen how the setting sun looked away from the city, and the sight took him aghast; he rarely ever saw the sun set because he almost always had business somewhere in the Castle, so it was even more beautiful than how Alamatar described it. He was looking forward to seeing it again before they left.

The inside was as glorious as the outside. Even though he had been inside her manor many times, each time he marveled again at its beauty. The floor was laid in marble tile, and a thin, red carpet led straight to the dining hall behind two wooden doors. Two winding staircases, one on each side of the room, extended from the floor to a second floor two stories up. Her library. Alamatar led Belgard down the scarlet carpet and into a large dining hall. Already, maids were preparing three spots at the beginning of the long table and menservants were placing dishes of salad, fish, roast meat, and bread in front of the silver plates. _Why three spots?_

"Elvin," Alamatar said to a manservant wiping meat juices from his hands with a splotched apron. "Please tell Artaemia that dinner is ready." As he hurried out of the room to the suites, Alamatar turned toward Belgard, an apologetic look on her face. "I am sorry. I forgot to tell you that I had a guest tonight. You don't mind if someone eats with us, do you? Good." She sat down in the chair at the end of the table with Belgard at her right. A maid set a cloth napkin in each of their laps before hurrying off to the kitchens.

Five minutes later--Belgard wasn't really sure how long--the servant returned, guiding Artaemia to the plush chair at Alamatar's left. If not for years of masking his face, Belgard would have dropped his mouth at the site of her. She was an eighteen-year-old woman with black hair and blue eyes, and, from what he remembered about her, was Alamatar's best friend as a child. For dress she wore a red silk evening gown, with light blue designs on the skirt, that left her shoulders bare. Obviously a dress Alamatar had given her; knowing how poor the farmers from Artaemia's village were and how expensive the dress was, she would never have enough money to buy it. Artaemia's features were soft and pleasant, prettier than Alamatar's--not that Alamatar was not pretty--and attracted the attention of most men she came across.

The conversation around the table was mostly between Alamatar and Artaemia; Alamatar rarely saw her friend and Belgard did not like talking about "cute" guys from the two women's home village, Salvia. _She may be a Setting, but she is still a young lass. If acting like a child every once in a while keeps her from being lonely…Well, I can't keep her from being homesick all the time._

An hour later the maidservants were clearing the silver plates off the table and a manservant was pouring each person's goblet full of a rich red wine, made from grapes from Alamatar's own groves. "Follow me," Alamatar said to Artaemia, standing from her seat. "I want to show you something before I have to leave." Belgard walked behind the two talking women as they wound through a series of hallways and curving staircases until they stood on the large balcony facing west into the setting sun. The sky was painted in brilliant reds and oranges and yellows, the sun hanging above the horizon a bright red; the few clouds were painted, too. A slight breeze blew across the balcony, sending strands of brown hair into Alamatar's face; Artaemia shivered.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Alamatar asked, leaning forward on the stone railing, basking in the soft glow of the set. She set her glass of wine of the broad stone railing and placed her hand on the leg of the stone angel in the right corner of the balcony. A moment later she had her feet dangling over the edge of the railing and was resting her head on the angel's billowing, stone gown. "Sometimes I wish the sunset would never end. Especially times like this."

For moments she was silent, and when Belgard was about to turn and walk back into the house, Alamatar spoke up. "We better go, Belgard. We'll be late as it is getting to the docks, might as well not make it any later." Carefully she stood back on the stone-tiled floor and walked through the large glass doors. Artaemia grabbed her skirts, a little clumsily from lack of experience in dresses, and hurried to catch up. Belgard gave the sky one last look before walking away.

By the time he caught up to the women they were already down by large wooden doors leading out into the evening air. "…I might not be back for a while; Siwann is a long way away, even by boat, and finding our target might take longer than expected. But feel free to stay as long as you wish, and take what you want when you decide to leave." She turned to Belgard, and put on an almost sad smile. "Come, Belgard. We mustn't make Barain wait too long." After giving Artaemia a hug goodbye, she grabbed her black cloak and staff, and walked outside.

_I sure wish we could._ After saying his goodbye to Artaemia, he too donned his cloak and sword and hurried down the stone-paved path onto the country road. "Take your time," Belgard said, not quickening his strides in the slightest. "The prince is too used to having his way. Making him do something other than what he wants for a change won't kill him."

An hour of walking down streets, Belgard ignoring the dirty looks from the passersby--_Probably heard about what happened to Barain_--and they were at the harbor. Even at that hour many ships were tied to the numerous wooden docks, men loading and unloading their cargo of spices and clothes and anything else they could be trading or selling. Captains stood on their decks shouting to the sailors to hurry up and move their feet faster, and the sailors were more than happy to comply. The sun was already below the horizon and darkness had set in. Barain was no where to be seen. "Where is that child?" Belgard asked irritably. "When I get my hands on him--"

Alamatar reached up and placed a hand over his mouth. "Here he comes." The prince was hurrying up to them with a hunk of meat half stuffed in his mouth and a bag nearly weighing him down to the wooden planks thrown over his shoulder; his face said he was less than happy. "Be nice to him. Just until we are done with our mission."

"Where have you been?" he demanded, finishing his dinner and setting his pack on the floor. "You said at dusk. It's been nearly an entire hour!" He was almost shouting the last words to them; Belgard was tempted to toss Barain into the river.

While Alamatar answered him in a voice much kinder than the one he would have used, Belgard shifted through the bulging backpack on the ground. Many changes of clothing, four robes worth enough gold to feed half the beggars in Calystra, a Charmed black cloak--the ones he and Alamatar wore--and a small book filled up the bag. Disgustedly, Belgard almost threw everything but the book--a diary, maybe--and the cloak into the Strangl, but thought better of it. _He chose to bring this, and he will carry it even if I have to crack a whip at his heels._ Instead he took the cloak and pressed it against Barain's chest. "Put this on. Come on, we will take this boat."

Before anyone could speak, Belgard made his way up the creaking gangplank with Alamatar and Barain right behind him. On the deck, sailors hurried every which way, tying ropes down, knotting them, untying them, and the captain walked around shouting to his sailors about "his passengers not paying to stay in the harbor all night long" or "to hurry up with those ropes". Men manned the booms, finishing their jobs at loading the rest of the crates off the dock, and others were drawing the sails. In just a moment on the dock, the captain spotted his three new arrivals and fixed them with a scowl. He was about to yell something at him when Alamatar pulled back the left side of her cloak, showing the red sun on her breast, and he shut his mouth. "What can I do for you, Setting?" he asked through clenched teeth, his tone stating his displeasure with having her on his deck.

"We require passage to Siwann." Alamatar's voice was cool and level with no room for argument.

"Um…I'm sorry, Settings--" his tone made it clear he was not sorry in slightest "--but we have no rooms available to offer to you. Anyway, this boat is not suitable for people of your positions--ah, yes, I didn't think you would like that answer." Two knives with blue glowing blades stuck out of the floor right in front of the captain's toes. The splinters on the boards curled and smoked from the magic in the blades and, the captain quickly stepped back.

"You will show us to our rooms, and you will tell no one about us, or you'll be as twisted and black as the victims of the vreehal spider." Alamatar's tone made the threat sound as real as the night sky was black.

The captain gulped, and with a bow he led them himself past many rooms and down many flights of stairs until they reached the bottom, all the while muttering about having to travel a hundred miles out of his way to help three people who could just as easily have found passage on another ship and get there all the faster. Belgard thought he caught something about "losing thousands of gold pieces because of those burdensome Settings". Past another three doors and he reached the last two. "The-these are the last two rooms, Setting…what should I call you?" When Alamatar did not answer he went on, stumbling over his words. "Yes, well, I wish you a nice stay. We-we will be leaving as soon as possible. Please, make yourself comfortable, and if there is anything I or someone else can do--"

"Leave." The captain all but bolted up the stairs, leaving the two Settings and Barain standing in the hall. Alamatar walked into the first door and Barain and Belgard into the second. The room was smaller than Belgard wanted, but it would do. Four candles, lit and half melted, were placed in plain candlesticks and lit the room with a yellow glow. A small window let in what little light was cast by the moon and stars.

Setting his pack on the ground, Barain walked over to the bed, a feather mattress on a simple frame, and pulled off one of the two pillows, tossing it to the floor. "You can sleep on the floor; I don't mind." The prince stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. That right there was enough to make Belgard want to bloody Barain's nose and bruise his face, but Alamatar would scold him all day if he did, so instead he stalked out into the hall and stood before Alamatar's door.

Placing his hand on the doorknob, Belgard quickly drew it back; the last time he walked in on Alamatar without knocking he thought she was going to tear his eyes out of their sockets. Best to knock. Rapping three times on the door, Belgard waited patiently outside for permission to enter. There was a momentary pause before Alamatar's voice called, "Come in."

Standing in the center of the floor was Alamatar, holding a small knife in her hands, which she quickly placed on a small nightstand when she saw it was Belgard. She wore a thin white shirt and short skirt coming down to about her mid-thighs, her brown hair fanning out on her back. The black cloak she wore was hanging from a peg on the wall over her white dress and boots, and her staff leaned on its large knot against the wall next to the bed. Many more candles lit the room till no there were no shadows, even in the deepest of corners. "Well, it's good to see you decided to knock this time." With a smile she stood on her toes and ruffled his hair. "What are you doing here? Is he driving you crazy already?"

Resting his sword against the wall, he sat down on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed and answered, "I'm about ready to kill him. No one I have ever met has been as much of a jerk as him. If you ask me the boy should spend two hours in Setting Haman's office." Alamatar winced at that name and placed a ginger hand on her bottom; Belgard, too, had some bad memories in Haman's office, though not as good as Alamatar's. Setting Haman was in charge of overseeing the training of all people desiring to be a Sun and dealt out discipline for any and every breaking of the rules; he made sure that person never broke that rule again. "That would rid the kid of his attitude." Two hours of suffering under Haman's rock-hard fists--switching for the women, though there were very few women to switch--and chores late into the night and early in the morning would make anyone more decent to be around.

"Yes, just one hour in Haman's study would put him on a different track." She sat down next to Belgard, and leaned her head on his shoulder. "The king--excuse me, the _Sun_--should not have let him come with us, I think. The kid has no respect for anything, and he can't even fight! Who sends an untrained idiot into a battlefield? I know I said to be nice, but if he doesn't get any better, say after three days of our arrival in Siwann, then I will allow you to have your…talk…with him. Okay?"

It wasn't like he could really say no, so he said, "Fine." He wished he could have his "talk" sooner so as to avoid any problems later on in his mission--his and Alamatar's, not Barain's; he will make sure the prince knows that--but he would take what he could get. "You know, Alamatar, a few years before you joined as a Rising I found a great vacation spot up in the mountains. Once we get done with this stupid mess, we could go up there and--Alamatar?"

Alamatar, who had been resting her head on his arm, had now fallen asleep. A tress of chestnut-brown hair drooped over her face, moving back and forth as they were blown by her light breaths; her eyelids fluttered as a stray strand got tangled up in her lashes. _I didn't think I was that boring,_ Belgard thought, gently unclenching one of her small fists grabbing onto an arm of his cloak. A moment later he was free, and he delicately picked up her light form and set her on the top bunk; he did not think the top bed could support his weight, and Alamatar would be none too pleased if he came crashing down on her.

Minutes later, his cloak was hanging beside Alamatar's, almost a foot longer, and the dagger always tucked away in a sheath that hung at his belt lay near his sword. His shirt, the only armor he wore, hung over his cloak. Lying down on the bed, he buried his face in the pillow, and fell asleep.

The violent jerk of the bed sent Belgard tumbling to the rough wooden floor. Another one tipped the bed over with a loud crash and a splinter of wood. Fortunately, Alamatar was nowhere to be seen. Hurriedly, he grabbed his shirt from where it was jumbled on the floor and ran out the door, leaving his cloak and sword behind; best let everyone think he was just a paying passenger.

Candles, supposed to be in their brass brackets on the wall, were strewn across the floor, rolling this way and that as the ship shifted to and fro. Ignoring the swaying, Belgard took the stairs two at a time until he reached the deck. Once, another shake almost sent him falling to the landing of the third floor. On the deck was chaos; men ran every which way, tying ropes to keep the sails secure while others tied cables from the main mast to holds on the railing. Dark clouds roiled in the sky, lighting up with bolts of lightning. Waves slammed into the hull of the ship and splashed onto the deck; men lost their footing on the wet planks and fell to their faces. At the front of the ship, three sailors were pulling up another who had fallen overboard. In the middle of this all, Alamatar stood gazing at the churning sea, her dress flapping in the strong wind, not showing a care about what was happening around her.

"What are you thinking?" Belgard asked, standing next to Alamatar and gazing at the waves. He hoped he could get her back into their room before the light rain turned into a downpour. When Alamatar wanted something and decided to be stubborn about it, nothing could change her mind.

"How will we find the general? We have very few eyes-and-ears in Siwann, now, ever since that idiot informant sold them out for an extra few gold coins." She never took her eyes off the white froth spewing about the sea, but her glare should have turned it to ice. Alamatar never liked losing anyone who worked for her--whether stuck-up noble or peasant--especially by the treachery of one of their fellow workers; when she found the traitor, she made sure he did not die an easy death. But that was a year and a half past, and they still had not found any people willing to work as their informers, minus a few.

"I don't know, lass. We might have a hard time, we might get it easy. It all depends on how Zalargh plays his cards." The rain drizzling on his back had increasingly gotten stronger, and now it was almost full rain. Placing a hand on Alamatar's shoulder, Belgard said, "It's starting to rain. We should go back to our rooms."

Before they disappeared below deck, ropes holding one of the sails up snapped and the sail came crashing to the floor. "You sure know how to pick the boats, Belgard," Alamatar said, a small laugh in her voice, but Belgard did not share her pleasure in the situation; he glared at the mess on the planks and followed her down, scowling all the way.

Back in their room, Belgard was wringing the water out of his shirt onto the floor while Alamatar stuck candles in their holders and re-lit them. The bed both of them had to upright. _This is turning into a perfect mission,_ Belgard thought sourly. _I'm called off on my vacation early for some idiot general a small army of Rays could take out. We're dragging around the King's stuck-up child, in the middle of a storm, on a rickety boat._ He doubted anything could get any worse. "Have you checked on the prince?"

"I did this morning, while you were still asleep. He was sleeping like a baby, but I doubt he is anymore. Why don't you check on him?" Belgard opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak Alamatar had him turned around and out in the hall.

He walked over to the door where the King's son was sleeping and barged into the room. The site was not what he expected. The room looked as if it had been turned upside down; the small dresser was lying on its face, cracked and splintered from its jostling; the candles were rolling on the floor; the bed had turned completely over and was pinning Barain to the floor. A small trickle of blood ran down the floor from an injury in his side.

Belgard walked over to stand over the prince, and Barain turned his face to stare up into his black eyes. "Get this off me," he said in a strained voice, his face twisting in pain.

Kneeling down, Belgard stared him straight in the eyes. "On one condition." His voice was cold as steel and hard as stone. "You will obey me and Alamatar, regardless of what we tell you to do. You will not complain, and if you do not follow my condition I will show you what Setting Haman does to those who do not obey. Is that clear?" After a very quiet moment Barain nodded his head. "Good." Placing both hands on the side of the bed, tucking his fingers over the edge, he pushed with all his might, and the bed came flying off and crashed into the opposite wall. He was surprised how light the bed was; the bunk bed was much heavier. Loud cursing floated through from the wall where the bed hit, but Belgard ignored them and pulled the prince to his feet who had to lean against the wall to keep upright.

"What happened here?" Alamatar came rushing into the room, annoyance flashing across her face. "What was that--" She stopped when she saw Barain slumped against the wall and the bed lying on its top with its legs in the air. One of the support beams was snapped and covered in drying blood. She fixed Belgard with a stare that would make any lesser man cower.

"One of the crashes must have sent the bed on the kid," he answered, completely unruffled by her glare. "You should inspect his wound. You know more about injuries than I do."

Alamatar nodded to the bed, which was quickly righted, and Barain was lain down on it. She sat down on the floor by its edge and lifted his shirt up to see the wound. "Not too bad," she mumbled to herself. "Belgard, get me a basin and water and some bandages. The captain will be happy to supply anything you need. If we get this thing healed soon enough, I won't have to Cure it myself."

While Belgard was gone, Alamatar stripped the prince to his waist, muttering something about "having to get a new shirt at the port in Siwann". After he was settled in bed, she silently waited against the wall, staring through the window at the rain pelting the glass and the beads of water trailing down the surface. Almost ten minutes later Belgard came in, basin of water in hands and a train of bandages coiled around a wrist.

"That captain," he grumbled, "is almost as bad as my mother was. He thinks I speared somebody with my sword and would not leave it alone that someone was simply injured. I had to pick him up off the ground before he would leave me alone and get me what I wanted." He set the water-filled bowl down by the bed and gave the bandages to Alamatar.

While Alamatar cleaned and dressed Barain's wound, Belgard set the dresser upright and placed the candles back into their holders. One candle, still lit, he used to re-light all the others. Once done, he and Alamatar walked out of the room, only after she told the prince not to leave the bed and that they would get him some food soon. She silently closed the door behind them.

As they made their way back to the room, Belgard said, "I cannot believe we are babying that kid. All his life he had someone to nurse his wounds. And now we're doing just the same." They stood just outside their own room. "If he wants to be a Sun, he will have to learn how to take a few pains, and we're not helping that any."

Alamatar fixed him with a blank stare she used when trying to keep herself from shouting at the other person. Or when trying to keep from launching at him. "Do you want to spend the entire trip listening to him complain about the pain in his side? It is better 'to baby' him than put up with that, I think. He already has a ways to go in trying to be a Rising; one more thing he has to learn for himself will make no difference."

She walked into the room and jumped up onto her bunk. Belgard finished hanging the cloaks on the floor back onto their pegs and laid their weapons under them against the wall before he, too, rested on his bed. Not even the afternoon and he could sleep the rest of the day away. "Belgard, when should we go get our lunch?"

"Lunch will arrive any minute. Dinner will come at nightfall." Belgard had his eyes closed now. "I took care of that when I had my 'discussion' with the captain. He was more than happy to send us our meals." Shifting around on his bed, he buried his face in his pillow. "Wake me when dinner comes." Quickly, sleep overtook him.

Alamatar woke him up with their dinner as the sun set below the horizon. The captain joined them for a few minutes, explaining how the storm had blown them off course and the damage to the ship made it necessary to stop at Siwann anyway. Not that either of the two Settings cared, of course. The rest of the trip passed by slowly, to Belgard, who hated being in transit between missions. Barain rested in bed, slowly healing, until the last day when even the scab was barely noticeable. The captain himself came down and told the two Settings and Barain they were docked and they could leave when they wished.

Belgard was more than happy to get off the boat and onto the dock, even if it was crowded by the people from their boat and others. A cold, light mist hung over the piers, obscuring vision of everything more than ten feet away, and water soaked the dock, making it more slippery than moss-covered rocks. The three left the captain scowling at a customs officer who insisted on charging for the cargo, and entered into the town of Silaarr, the largest town in Siwann, yet still smaller than Calystra.

They walked down the stone-paved streets, attracting a few people's eyes with their black cloaks that covered everything but their heads. A glare from either Alamatar or Belgard quickly made them find something more interesting on the ground or through the nearest shop window. The city was not full of many passersby; at this time of night, most would be in eating dinner with their families, or already in bed. They passed many shops along the road of street-cobblers, blacksmiths, coopers, doctors, and inns--and in a small convenience shop Alamatar bought three strips of jerky; their dinner. Twice, guards stopped them but a glance at the sun sigil on each Setting's breast and the sword Belgard had strapped across his back and the guards quickly scurried away to bother other city dwellers.

By the time the three reached the wall of the city, darkness had fully settled in, and starlight twinkled behind clouds floating high in the sky. Another pair of guards stood at the path leading out of the city, but none approached; the stony face of Belgard and icy gaze of Alamatar kept them from questioning what they were doing so late at night.

The group walked in silence for an hour through a thin forest. Dead silence reined over them except for the snap of a twig or the occasional rock or log Barain kicked, until finally the prince broke the silence. "How long until we make a place to sleep?" His voice cut sharply into the night, sounding louder than it really was. He stumbled over a vine laying on the forest floor and nearly fell on his face from the extra weight of his pack. _Next time he won't carry so much unneeded clothing._

"Another two hours," Belgard answered sharply, as if the prince should have known that. "We will get as far as we can before sunrise." He quickened his stride till even Alamatar had to jog slightly to keep up. Barain was nearly at a run. Unfortunately, Alamatar placed a hand on his arm and he slowed down.

"Two hours! I can't keep this up for another two hours. I can barely keep up now!" The prince was slightly wheezing. _He should be in better shape if he is going to be a Sun._ "If you don't slow down right now, I--"

He cut off abruptly as Belgard turn an icy glare upon him. "We will walk for another two hours. So will you, _without_ complaining once. Do not forget your agreement." He turned his attention back to the trees in front of him and continued on relentlessly, not slowing his pace one bit.

After two hours, Barain complaining all the way, camp was set up in a small clearing thinner than most of the other clusters of trees but thicker than any would have liked. No tents were erected--much to the prince's dismay--only beds of leaves, mostly leaves dried and brittle. Alamatar and Belgard slept as far away as possible from Barain, who did not mind having the extra leg space. Hand resting on the hilt of his sword, Belgard fell asleep with Alamatar lying right next to him.

Before first light the two Settings roused the prince from his sleep and set off. Belgard used his sword to cut a path through the thicker growth and killed a rabbit by swiping its head clean from its shoulders. Grimacing, Alamatar Casted slightly to cook the meat to a dark brown; using her magic in front of people aside from those she held close she hated. Plus seeing nearby plants wilt and whither also caused her to refrain from Casting. Barain looked astonished watching fire form from nothing and cook hunks of meat suspended in the air; he clearly did not believe that anyone but his father's mages could use magic.

By noon the heat was horrendous. Only spring and the temperature was well above any Malchadia ever reached in the summer. How anyone could live in this place was beyond him.

An hour more of hiking through the ever unforgiving day and they came across a small country town. Or rather, what _used_ to be a country town. Now all that was left were half-charred beams or the roofing of a house or shattered glass. Not one building remained standing except for a few hastily constructed lean-tos and some deerskin tents. Townsfolk milled about the streets, some with brooms, others rakes, and swept the rubble into small piles about the ground where others lit them afire. Not one face wore a smile; most had a look of longing, of looking at something not really there; they must have lost someone special in whatever had happened. Barain sucked in a long breath, eyes wide with shock and face paling. Alamatar was probably wreathing inside with sympathy for the villagers and anger for whoever attacked the town; she was as soft as a feather bed when it came to poor townspeople, though probably because she grew up in such a similar place.

"Shall we go see who made this neat little mess?" Alamatar said through almost clenched teeth, walking into the ruined town. Belgard followed, quite unlike her, keeping all outward emotions from showing on his face or anywhere on his body. Barain walked at Belgard's heels, trying to avoid the sad eyes of the villagers--Belgard thought it odd that there were so few; usually destroyed towns had most of the population living on the streets, unless they were dead, but he saw no corpses or mounds of dirt--and especially what hung from trees at the border of the village. Nine nooses were tied to nine branches, and nine people--three men, three women, and three children--each had a loop around his or her neck, feet dangling ten feet above the ground; the typical execution used by Zalargh, even during his service under the King. As tranquil as he was, he could not stop a small wave of disgust from rising in his body. In over his ten years of service as Setting he had never killed like this--the deaths he dealt were short, painless deaths from the blade of his sword, not from hanging someone over the branch of a tree--and whenever someone killed just for show, it made disgust and sometimes anger boil over inside him. Alamatar must surely be suppressing a roiling mass of rage inside her own body, after seeing that sight. _When we find him, Alamatar will rip his throat out and feed it to him._ He had no doubt that she really would.

They made their way through what was left of the town, Alamatar stepping gracefully over rubble strewn across the road, Belgard moving it aside with the broad side of his sword. The sword was more to keep the villagers from doing anything they might regret than to move debris--he could easily kick it--but he did not think they would do anything more than watch. Something else bothered him aside from the lack of villagers: there were very little women or children anywhere, and he doubted that they were out hunting for food. More townspeople watched wide-eyed from where they stood or sat, none daring to step forward to question the Settings if they needed any help. Instead, Alamatar said in a loud voice for all to hear, "Who is the person in charge of this village?"

For moments no one moved, just staring at the woman who had spoken. Then a man stepped, or more like hobbled, over from where men were stripping the bark from tree trunks and cutting them into flat boards with broken-tooth saws. A few skeletons of new houses were being constructed where old houses once had been, and men were nailing boards to the corner support beams or securing the beams in the ground with dirt. "I am," the man said. He was maybe in his fifties and had bandages wrapped around the side of his head. In one hand he had a hammer and the other nails. "I am Gestalt, mayor of the village Minnauw. I apologize for not being able to offer you any place to rest or anything to eat, but we are short on food and houses." His eyes never focused entirely on Alamatar, but rather seemed to look through her head at the forest behind her.

"What happened here?" she asked, not keeping the sympathy from her face or voice. "Who did this?" Not that she really had to ask; she already knew who it was, but she always liked confirming what she believed.

"Take a look around," Gestalt said, waving a hand around at the wreckage everywhere. "A few days ago we were attacked by some crazy Malchadite. He had around fifty soldiers with him, I think. More were riding around outside the town. I don't know what they wanted; they just came, burned everything to the ground, and rode away with many of the women and children tied to the horses." So that was why there were few women or children: they were taken captive by Zalargh. But what would he want with captives? They were just more mouths to feed. _Unless he is going to sell them._ Knowing Zalargh, that was a possibility. Alamatar's face said she thought the same thing and thought even less of it.

"Which way did he go?" Her voice was a strained calm that barely kept out the anger and contempt. He thought he heard a trace of eagerness, but no one would be able to tell unless they were close friends. Her face was as calm as she could make it, but still, a small scowl slightly twisted her lips, making it into a half-smile, half-sneer. Gestalt's face visibly paled.

"It was d-dark," he stammered. "But I b-believe they went th-that way. T-toward the south of t-town." He pointed toward a patch of trees on the far side of the village. "I-I must go see t-to how the construction is c-coming along." He hurried off toward the group of men who were starting to pound wooden beams into the ground, but stopped in his tracks when Alamatar called to him.

This time her face and voice were full of compassion and sympathy. "We'll get them back. We'll bring every woman and child back to Minnauw." Belgard could not tell whether the man smiled or not, but the mayor turned away and walked slightly less slumped. "And we will help pay for the reconstruction," she finished, just barely audible. Belgard would have protested--giving villagers money to rebuild an entire town was costly and not something he would ever do--but Alamatar would just fix him with a frosty stare until he agreed. Besides, he was used to her giving away his money; she had done many times before.

Belgard started forward, to where the mayor had pointed. "Come, prince." A moment later Barain was at his heels, muttering something about "no-good Setting" and "no-good commands". It took just a moment to realize that Alamatar was not with them. In fact, she was still standing in her spot, looking at the ruins and reconstruction, not seeming to notice her partner had gone. "Alamatar?"

She gave a slight jump. "What? Oh, yes. Belgard, I think we should stay here tonight. They could use someone like you to help build, and I could take some of the remaining women and hunt. These people look like they haven't gotten much food." It was true; some of the villagers' cheekbones were all but poking out of their faces, and one of the little girls sitting in the street had arms so thin Belgard could wrap his index finger and thumb around one and have room to spare. The nearly pleading face that Alamatar gave him forced his nodded concession.

The next moment she had called Gestalt over and told him what was going to happen. For a slight moment he looked a bit hesitant, but he smiled and thanked them again and again. And about a quarter hour later Belgard was pounding beams into the ground where wrecked houses had been cleared away, with Barain nailing flat boards from beam to beam, glaring and grumbling something Belgard did not bother listening to. _It won't hurt the kid to get his hands dirty once every twenty years._ The sounds of men chopping trees down and cutting square posts or boards out of the trunks helped drown the prince's complaining.

Alamatar had gone with a few of the remaining women, but the first thing she did before leaving was have the nine hanged villagers cut down, and some of the men were digging fresh graves amid a bunch of other mounds of upturned dirt in a little cemetery. Belgard did not know why the corpses were allowed to hang in the trees for so long that they began to smell of decay, nor did he want to. The reason probably had something to do with Zalargh. For once, he was looking forward to finding and killing his target.

By dusk, Alamatar, ten women, and a girl of about fourteen returned. Some carried rabbits, others fish; a good amount of food--if you ignored the number of men in the village. Many of the men left their places around their fire and surrounded the women, who were trying to push their way through to a set of pots hanging over burning logs. The girl, though, rushed over to a little boy--probably a little brother--and, taking him by the hand, led him to a different fire where she laid her two fish on a rock in the flames. Alamatar gave her small string of fish to a woman and sat down next to Belgard. "You brought a lot of food back," he stated. "I don't think the men were expecting half as much as you got."

"We had more," she said a little curtly, "but we came across a thrakkan and most of the women dropped their food and ran. I thought about using it for food, but they could not carry the beast all the way back here. So we stayed for another two hours, until we replaced most of the food we had lost. I decided to give my fish away to the villagers, so we will have to hunt tomorrow after we leave," she stated more as an afterthought.

"What do you mean you gave your food away?" Barain practically shouted, causing a few heads to turn around them. "I'm starving. I am going to get something to eat," he growled and stood. Only to fall face first onto the ground. He rubbed his leg where Belgard had grabbed him and shot a furious glare.

"You are not starving, boy. _These _people are starving. You eat feasts upon feasts in your castle; these people barely scrape by. Missing a meal won't hurt you any." Belgard's deep accent made his tone more commanding and just dared the prince to try to disobey him. When he saw that Barain was not going to move, he took off his cloak and folded it up to lay his head on. A moment later Alamatar did the same, and he fell asleep.

The next morning Belgard awoke to the soft sounds of a morningbird's chirps. The first rays of light were just breaking through the dark sky, coloring the clouds reds and oranges and yellows and washing away the last of the starlight. A thin fog had covered the small town, and the morning dew soaked the back side of his clothing. With a stretch Belgard stood to his feet and threw his wet cloak around his shoulders, clasping it together over his chest with a small golden chain.

All around him men snored close to their dying fire, some with a small blanket wrapped around their bodies, but most lay without one, shivering in the brisk coolness. In the tents and lean-tos slept the women and children, tucked away under the rest of the woolen blankets, not appearing to feel the coldness at all. And curled in a small ball around the red glowing embers of Belgard's fire was Alamatar. Her light brown hair was soaked and clumped about her face, and drops of water slid down cheeks to drop onto the grass under her head. All it took were two light shakes to wake her and she was on her feet in just moments.

Barain, on the other hand, sprawled out as far as his arms and legs could reach, did not wake so easily. No matter how many times Belgard shook him, the prince would not rouse. Finally, Belgard, irritated with his failed attempts, took his sword and poked Barain savagely in the ribs. With a cry he bolted upright and gave Belgard a vicious glare, which was met with one of his own. The prince was the first to look away.

Before Barain was even standing, the two Settings had started walking to the edge of town, talking quietly amongst themselves, but stopped when he was in hearing range. For an hour they walked, Barain complaining every now and then about breakfast, until they came across a large beast lying dead on ground. The thrakkan had a caved-in skull and a few of its joints were pointing in odd directions. "Is this the thrakkan you were talking about?" Belgard asked, drawing a knife from a sheath on the inside of his cloak. "You sure did a number on him." He jabbed the animal with the knife, completely burying the blade in its hide, sawed out three large squares of meat and threw them on a rock.

"What are you doing?" Barain asked in a you-are-an-idiot tone. "Isn't thrakkan meat poisonous? If we eat that we'll get sick and die!" By his face, Belgard would have thought the prince might suggest they wait till noon to eat.

"Shut up," Belgard ordered. "Shut up and watch. And close your mouth." The gray rock the slabs of meat had been laying on was now glowing a bright orange-red, and the three steaks were soon sizzling and smoking. Black goo was oozing from the meat onto the surface of the heated stone where it hissed and rose to the sky in a dark cloud. Alamatar's eyes, usually a light red, had gone crimson; the normal color for when she was Casting weak magic. Soon after, the meat stopped spitting out the goop and was thoroughly dark brown.

Each grabbing their slice of meat, they started walking back in the direction Gestalt had pointed to them the day before. As Belgard tore viciously at his meat he wondering if they would find Zalargh any time soon. _He may be an idiot, but there are still leagues of forest and mountain to search. He could be anywhere in these backwater woods. It would be a stroke of luck if we found him before autumn._

Unfortunately for Belgard the luck never came. The weeks of searching slid by all through the spring and summer and fall with little results. The few leads they found were of a fort in the heart of the forest, or a hideout near White Rivers' Cross, or near the edge of Falcon's Cliff, or under the base of Elbeght Mountain. All but the last were just rumors.

The mountain they stood before was fairly small, more of a large foothill, really, but that did not matter. What did matter was that someone was living in it; many hoof prints circled around the base and walked straight to a rock wall where they just disappeared. Of course that was no way to get in, and Belgard was not in the mood to wait for someone to walk out from the wall, so he and Alamatar set about to find another way in. _There had better be another way in_.

So far he had found nothing during his search around the base and nearby forest. Alamatar, searching on top of the mountain where magic was needed to get to certain ledges, had not found anything, either, and they had been searching for three hours since noon. "Belgard," Alamatar shouted down from her ledge thirty feet up, "this place is closed up better than a rock slug. I don't think there is any way to get in aside from that slab. Not unless Barain has found anything."

__

Not likely, Belgard thought. He had sent the prince away into the woods to get him out of the way. That boy was more of a nuisance than a help, and had he not been the king's child he would have had a constant black eye and maybe a bloody nose, some days possibly a broken arm. _The only thing that kid finds is an overeager servant girl to kiss._ "If he has then he will come and tell us. I made it very clear to him that he is not to go wandering off into anything he found unless we tell him to." _Hopefully he won't do anything I tell him to and will go investigating and maybe get himself killed._

"Belgard!" Barain's voice echoed around the mountain again and again as he kept shouting until, finally, he popped out of the forest on the left side of the mountain clearing. He ran all the way to where he and Alamatar, who had floated down from her ledge, stood. His face was full of excitement and voice of anticipation. "I found them! I found them!"

"Hush, boy!" Belgard growled, clapping a hand over his mouth. For a full two minutes Barain stood there, mouth shielded, until finally he had calmed down. "Would you mind telling me why you're shouting so loud you could wake the dead?"

"I found a way into the mountain," he explained, voice softer yet still as full with excitement. "Come on, it is over this way. Not far." He turned and headed back the way he came, saying, "You Settings make this stuff so hard. It's fairly quite easy…if you're talented in this type of thing."

In a moment the prince was on the ground eating grass, not quite able to stretch his arm to soothe the spot on his back where Belgard had punched him. "Remember you still answer to me, boy. If you make one wrong move, I will beat you from here to the Castle of Light."

Silently they made their way to the spot Barain had found, the prince giving directions from his usual position behind them. A half mile they walked until the soft sounds of men cheering and joking drifted through the trees from a hole in the ground about as wide as Belgard was tall. Whoever was the last person to enter through this hole must have forgotten to cover it, for a wooden frame made from very thin trunks was lying on one side of the opening with a large patch of grass laying on top; once placed, this opening would look exactly like the forest floor. Or maybe no one forgot to close it because they would be back in a minute and did not want to waste their time shutting and reopening and re-shutting the patch of grass. "Let's go," Belgard said. "We still have a mission to finish and I want it done by tonight."

Silently he and Alamatar made their way through the darkness of the tunnel, toward a small dot of light that slowly began to grow. The voices did, too, and Belgard could make out enough raunchy comments to make a sailor blush.

They stopped, backs flat against the wall, just before the light. The hall opened out into a large dome-ceilinged room with lamps placed in niches in the wall about every ten feet apart in rings that extend all the way to the top of the rock walls. Wooden tables were set in rows and Malchadites sat on the long benches in front of their meal of roasted ham, salad, bread, and a seafood soup. Women and teenage girls walked along the aisles between the rows of seated men, filling goblets ranging from gem-encrusted to silver or gold to regular tin with a dark red wine. Some men would reach behind them and slap a few of the women's bottoms as they passed, which sent them scurrying through a door to the right of the room, faces red as tomatoes. Some of the younger girls had tears falling down their cheeks.

After some time the men settled back on the benches, slumping like a sack of potatoes, some still eating a third or fourth plate of ham; all still had a full goblet of wine. The serving maids came less frequently, only appearing when a man bellowed at the top of his lungs for yet another fill of wine. The only other door beside the one that must surely lead to the kitchens and the one that led aboveground was directly opposite where they were standing, a large wooden door that had not been opened all night. That one must lead to the inner depths of the fortress.

Alamatar placed a hand on his arm, looking at him with a face mingled with compassion and the desire to kill. She had surely seen how some of the men had handled the women, and she held her staff and gave the Malchadites a look that said she would not be happy until she saw each and every one with a smashed head, or no head if they were lucky. But before she decided she would walk out into the room, Belgard mouthed, "Wait till they get up to start leaving."

At first confusion dotted her face, but then it spread to understanding, and she backed up to the wall opposite Belgard, a smile on her face that could scare a demon away. After a few more refills of wine, the men rose and started making their way to the door. Belgard told Barain to stay where he was, and the two Settings walked out from their hiding spot.

Yanking his sword free of the scabbard on his back, Belgard chopped the nearest table in two. Splinters flied everywhere and the loud crack echoed to the top of the dome. At first everyone just stared in confusion, wondering why someone would chop up their table, and then one saw the red sunburst on his breast. Immediately he grabbed his sword and shouted in a drunk slur, "We have Settings! Kill the Settings!"

There was a rustle as men drew weapons and some muttered in disbelief that they could have been found out. Neither Belgard nor Alamatar gave them the chance to finish their thoughts. Belgard swung his sword around and slashed the man down the front with a spray of blood, and the room exploded.

Men everywhere drew their swords or clubs or knives and charged with an anger only drunkenness can give, and for once Belgard was glad that he had waited until they had finished drinking their last goblet full of wine; skills or no, he did not think he could have survived had they been sober. Shouts and screams came from everywhere, but from one section only screams of pain and fear could be heard. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alamatar gliding from man to man, cutting some with a small knife along the throat or hamstring or clubbing them on their heads with sickening cracks.

Belgard thrust his sword forward and impaled a soldier all the way through his body. _Soldier? These things can barely be called men._ Unlike Alamatar, he did not go to the fight, rather, let it come to him. Man upon man fell to his sword with slices across the stomach, chest, or neck, as Belgard wove his sword from attacker to attacker. In moments every man was dead and the room was totally silent. The only sound was the soft scuffle of boots as Alamatar came to stand next to him and survey the room. Blood ran thickly on the floor and splatters covered the tables and benches nearest to Belgard, but none stained his or Alamatar's clothing. The door leading deeper into the mountain remained unopened and the one to the kitchen was clicking and thudding as locks were set and wooden beams placed to keep anyone from breaking the door down. Leaning down to speak into Alamatar's ear, he said, "You calm the women down; I'll go find the general. Take the kid with you." Barain stood in the hallway still; he looked about ready to vomit. "Hurry down as soon as you can."

Belgard made his way down another corridor, lit with dim candles every twenty feet or so. It seemed no one knew what had gone on in the dining hall. All the better; he did not feel like having a whole army trying to kill him. As Belgard walked down the corridor he entered every door that was not locked. Some had prisoners whom he told to stay in their rooms--he would come for them later. Others had soldiers who were sleeping away in their beds and would never wake again while others had soldiers who gave a little trouble before they fell to the ground. The halls broke off into others which broke off into even more. He did not think he would ever get out of this maze.

A sudden movement behind Belgard caused him to swing around, sword poised to strike--and almost cleaved the head of a young girl in half. A sharp shriek pierced the hall, echoing off every wall and around every corner, and a thud as she fell to the ground. If that did not alert the whole fort, nothing would. "Why aren't you hiding with the rest of the captives," Belgard almost growled, and saw Alamatar and Barain standing right behind her. Lowering Belgard's sword from the side of her head, Alamatar placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder and helped her to her feet. The prince stood with a big smirk on his face, probably wishing her head _had_ been taken off. Oh well, he would make the boy wish he had never been born when they return back to Malchadia.

"Wipe that smile off your face," Alamatar commanded. "Belgard, help Arathan, will you? Seeing as you almost took her head off, you can walk with her." As Belgard moved closer to the young girl he noticed red lines streaking up and down smooth her legs, disappearing under her thread-bare skirt. Many looked fairly old, but many also looked quite recent; it was no wonder why her legs almost buckled every few steps she took. Barely holding a sigh of exasperation he picked her up and held her with his arms tucked under her knees and behind her back, following her orders to turn right or left as they walked down the halls. He had no idea where he was being led, but when he reached a brightly lit, ornately decorated hallway he guessed that this would take him to Zalargh.

"Yes, his suites are through the door at the end of the hall," Arathan said, eyeing him with a face full of hope. Surely she had seen the red sun he and Alamatar wore, and only a farmer so far isolated from everyone else would not know what the Red Sun Sigil meant. "Right now he is probably eating dinner, but he could be…" Spots of color filled her face, but Belgard knew what she had been about to say. _If he is enjoying the pleasures of a maid, it will be quite interesting watching Alamatar kill him._

After a moment of argument with Barain, which Belgard of course won, the prince found himself supporting Arathan while the two Settings walked over to the door. Placing a hand on the bronze handle, Alamatar wrenched the door open and the two ran into Zalargh's rooms.

The general, just sitting down to enjoy his hot meal of a strange fish, stood with fury on his face. "How dare you barge--" He cut off as he realized the two intruders were not any of his men, and his face noticeably paled when his eyes flickered to the red sunburst on Alamatar's breast. Immediately he was backing up to the wall until he could go no further. His jaw worked open and closed but no words came out.

Alamatar wore a smile--more of a sneer--as she and Belgard walked closer to Zalargh. "How long did you think you could go on?" she asked in a voice near white-hot anger. "How long did you think you could hide under your precious mountain, attacking small villages and taking their women and children before you screwed up? A year? Two? Forever?" She jabbed her staff at the traitor but he spun away into a corner. "You screwed up, Zalargh, and your error will cost your life."

"I-I can ex-explain." Zalargh had his hands in the air and started stepping out of the corner. "I-I just wanted to prove my point. If it wasn't for…for your _Sun_--"the words dripped with contempt--"issuing that Ceymbral be killed, I would--"

"Ceymbral was killed because he was what you have become," Belgard interrupted. His sword was in his hand now, and the general was slowly backing away to the door. "If you had kept a better leash on your brother he would not have become that pond scum and he would still be alive, but you were too busy bedding every woman you could find that you did not bother with him until it was too late. Running through that door will get you nowhere, Zalargh." Zalargh, who was walking quickly away from the Settings, bolted--only to have Alamatar's staff sweep his legs out from under him and send him flat to the ground. "You will not leave here alive; you know that."

As Zalargh tried to rise to his feet, Alamatar grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked his head back. Her red eyes shone with death. "After I came across a village a couple of months ago, I thought of many ways I kill you, each one more painful than the rest." She dragged him to his feet with a sharp yank. "First I think I will cut your hamstrings out and shove them down your throat. Next maybe I'll cut off you nose…no, your ears…maybe your eyes--I know, I'll burn your entire face off! Lastly I will take your intestines out and hang you with them. What do you think: fair punishment?" As Alamatar rattled off each thing she would do to him, his face became sicker and he paled to match a bed sheet for whiteness. Of course she would not really do those--she just wanted to see how many ways she could scare him and send him running to his mother like a child with a bad dream--but many people believed Settings were monsters who lurked in dark alleys at night and shredded passersby with razor-sharp claws. Zalargh was one of those.

With a cruel laugh, Alamatar sent Zalargh down to the floor, even closer to the door than before. "Get a good look at that door, Zalargh. It will be the one thing you beg me for by the time I am done with you." Drawing her small knife from its sheath on the inside of her cloak, she advanced toward the general.

"Stop!" a voice shouted from the outside the room. In strode Barain, a sword in his hand and a look of defiance on his face. Belgard definitely would enjoy heading back for Malchadia. The prince placed himself between the general and Alamatar, and set his sword point down into the carpet. "Stay away from this man. We are taking him back to Malchadia to be tried and punished."

Belgard could barely keep the anger from boiling up inside of him. Had he not had better control of his outward appearance his face would have been red with fury and he would have been stomping his foot around. Instead he growled, "Out of our way, boy. Now. Do you forget who you answer to? I will make quite sure you realize who your superiors are if you do not move." He would make sure the child knew anyway, but if the boy did not move fast he would not be able to sit for a week.

"No, you realize who your superiors are. I am from the royal family, the Prince of Malchadia, and my father is the Sun. You Settings are to obey anything that _I_ tell you to do." He glared daggers at Belgard who just brushed them off with a stare to make a rock look soft. "By royal decree, he is being taken to Malchadia. Understand? Rise, Zalargh." As Zalargh and Barain turned to go, Alamatar grabbed the boy's shoulder--and had to jump out of the way as his sword sliced where her head had been. "Fall in behind, _Settings_. I will discuss your insubordination with my father when we get back. Maybe he won't take away your positions and will only suspend you for a time."

As Barain turned toward the door, the events that followed molded together into a few seconds of total confusion. Zalargh, standing right behind the prince, grabbed the sword out of his hands and thrust it at Belgard's heart. Out of seemingly nowhere Alamatar's staff flew and broke the blade on its hard knot, and Belgard's own sword flashed from its scabbard and speared through both Barain and the general. When he pulled his sword free, the two crumpled to the ground, Zalargh dead, Barain dying and sputtering. "You should have listened to me, boy." Belgard's voice was colder than ice; he had no pity for a person who broke direct orders and ended up dieing. None at all. "You should have stayed out of the way."

"Do you think you will go unpunished?" Barain interrupted, his voice sounding like two rocks scraped together. "My father will have your head when you return to Malchadia. He--" A cough tore through his neck and blood bubbled out of his mouth, garbling what he had been about to say. Another cough, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

There was a shriek outside in the hall that almost sent chills down Belgard's spine. Standing in the doorway were five or six women, each one more shocked than the last, each one with a hand over her mouth. He heard many whispered "He killed the prince of Malchadia" or "That dead boy, he is Xeros's son" as more women joined the crowd.

Alamatar walked over to the women and started shooing them away from the room, saying, "Come on, off to your rooms. We will start returning you to your villages tomorrow, but you need a good meal and a good night's sleep. Away now." As the women filed away she went with them, talking to a few--probably reassurances--putting an arm around some of the younger girls, and did not come back for a few hours.

"Are they all asleep?" Belgard asked, sitting in one of the elegant chairs owned by Zalargh, wiping the blood off his blade. "You know, the boy was right. We will never be able to go back to Malchadia after word of this gets out. We probably won't be able to go near any village in any country near Malchadia for that matter….Unless, of course, we make sure what happened here never leaves this mountain. We can rewrite what happened here and maybe only get a slap on the hand or have our Setting rights suspended for a time."

"Are you suggesting we kill them?" Alamatar walked around the table and sat on the ledge, her feet dangling above the carpets. "Do you really think killing a few women would keep what happened a secret?" When she realized he did not mean killing only a few, her hand came across and smacked him across the face with a loud clap. "We are not killing these women! We spent too long trying to save them to do that! How could think of doing something like that?!"

"It's my job to come up with ways to keep our heads attached," Belgard growled, his accent making his voice even colder and harder. "If these women speak with their husbands, their husbands will speak with merchants, and the merchants will be in Malchadia and turn us in. You know how much the king pays for that kind of information; enough that the informant will never have to work again in his life! If we do not take care of this situation we might as well never return to Malchadia, Alamatar."

"You're right, Belgard. We will never be able to return to Malchadia." Opening his mouth to protest, he shut it as Alamatar placed two fingers over his lips. "I am not about to kill people I spent half a year trying to save. But maybe we can return to Malchadia before the word spreads; we still have to return, Belgard. If we are proclaimed traitors, anyone who works or lives in our manors will be killed. We owe it to them to give them warning about what will happen, and maybe we can keep them alive. But I don't think rewriting history will work this time. Too many people know."

As much as Belgard enjoyed Alamatar's company, sometimes her conscience really annoyed him. This was no exception. _No point in disagreeing, though. She'll end up having her way one way or another._ "The pigeon flies faster than the boat sails. We will never reach home ahead of any carrier, especially if we're going to get these women to their villages." One look and Belgard knew there was no other way out of it. Standing up he grabbed Barain and Zalargh's bodies. "I'll take care of finding a place to put these. You should get some rest; we have a big day tomorrow." He dragged the bodies out of the suite and down the hallways to the entrance of the mountain. In the sky overhead, dark clouds billowed and rolled and thunder boomed. A storm was coming, and he did not want to be around when it struck.

The next day was the most hectic day of his life, Belgard thought. They sorted through over two hundred women and children, placing them with others who came from the same village or a nearby area. Each group would designate a leader, and that leader would be given a map that would take her to back to her village. It was her job to make sure everyone returned safely home, whether the person be from the same town or one four miles away. Each leader was also given food left over from the kitchens and extra cloaks and clothing to keep her group warm during the cold nights and the newly fallen snow. The last thing each leader received before being sent out was the money and treasure stored away in the vaults, equally divided among each group to help pay for the damages to their village.

Now, standing at the base of the mountain, watching the last group disappear into the trees, Belgard turned on his heels and started walking back the way they had come. Back to the town Silaarr, where they would take passage up to Calystra. Each time he thought of returning to Malchadia something fluttered in his stomach; no matter what Alamatar said they would not reach their home before Xeros heard the news, before their mansions and those who worked them were killed or destroyed. If it were Belgard's choice, he would go as far from Malchadia and its lands as possible, maybe to that small country Hyrule--it was in no way affiliated with any country; Belgard doubted that Hyrule knew of any countries outside of its boundaries. No matter, after their business in Malchadia was over they would go to Hyrule. If they survived Malchadia, at least. That thought could almost send shivers down his spine.

For a week and a half the two made their way through the forest to Silaarr, an uneasiness clouding their moods. Belgard tried numerous times to get her to leave Malchadia, to convince her to go to Hyrule, but in vain. Alamatar would not abandon her mansion or those her worked for her; she claimed some of her maids had children, and she could not rest easy unless she found a safe place for them. So Belgard followed her all the way to Silaarr--besides, there were a few artifacts in his manor that he liked very much, but walking to his death to get them…? He did not mind leaving them to be destroyed.

On the fifteenth day they reached the entrance to the town. It was just as quiet as it was months ago, but Belgard did not know what would happen if they were recognized--Siwann was a strong ally with Malchadia, and Xeros could have Siwann on the lookout--so he and Alamatar took off their red suns and wrapped their cloaks around their weapons, making them look like bundles any two travelers would carry, before walking in.

Belgard was thankful that people moved to the other side when they saw the two coming toward them; they did not want to let people get a good look at them, especially Alamatar; red eyes were an extreme rarity in this part of the world. Once a guard stopped them, wanting to know why they were walking around the streets in the middle of the night and wanted to know where they were going, but a quick comparison of Belgard's massive height and weight to the guard's own medium height and puny weight convinced him to be elsewhere.

The port at the far end of the town was busy, as normal. Crews were unloading their goods onto the piers, every once in a while a rope would snap and all the contents would spill into the ocean. Captains were jumping up and down in anger, protesting that the customs tax was too much, and that they would not pay a dime. Curses drifted from the men still on the boats as they nursed hands cut by the ropes or as large barrels fell on their foot. Hopefully one of them was going to Malchadia.

"Belgard, look over there," Alamatar whispered up to him, pointing to a ship at the far end of the harbor. At first he did not know what he was looking at, but when a breeze blew past a flag on top of the crow's nest fluttered and displayed the Royal Sun Insignia of Malchadia. That would be the ship they would take. "How are we going to get onboard? I doubt we can just march up the gangplank or use our sigils."

A quick scan of boat was all Belgard needed. "Look there; do you see where they are loading the cargo? We can stow away in there. It should not be too hard to sneak on." It was not. Instead of using the pulleys or cranes that most every other ship used, they loaded their cargo by wheeling it into an opening on the side of the boat. Since the captain was no where to be seen and no one was really paying any attention to what was going on they easily sneaked up the ramp and hid behind a few of the larger crates. Fortunately they did not have long to wait; the captain arrived just moments after they had hidden themselves and the cargo doors were shut and locked. An hour later they were sailing out on the ocean.

Throughout the trip, the two made plans on what would happen should they be caught. Belgard thought that they would be killed on the spot, but Alamatar thought otherwise. "No, Xeros will do anything _but_ kill us on the spot. Just because that is something _you _would do, does not meant everyone else would. Remember, someone has acted against the Royal Family of Malchadia, a 'horrible', 'unforgivable' sin, and he will want the entire empire to know that they have been caught. Remember when Selees was raped and killed? Remember what Xeros did? He had the man beaten and had the Hundred Sun March execute him. I don't think he loved Barain as much as Selees, so he might go easier on the beating, but he will send us to the Hundred Sun March. That is, of course, _if_ we get caught; I don't intend on being found." A smile creased her lips and she said, "But why are we talking about this? Let's see what kind of food these people have; I'm kind of hungry."

The rest of the trip passed quietly and quickly. Neither of the two brought up the possibility of being captured; Alamatar did not want to talk about it, and if Belgard started on that topic he would either be yelled at or it would be brushed aside. Instead they waited for the boat to dock at Malchadia, eating chocolate candies and a lot of fruit--the only things they could eat without Alamatar having to use magic and possibly bringing sickness down on everyone on the two floors above. But after two weeks and a day, they heard the boat dock, and hid themselves behind two large crates in the back of the hold while sailors began pulling out the goods they were to sell onto the pier to have them priced for customs.

After two hours, the men began to enter less and less frequently, until they did not come in at all. Another half of an hour, and the sailors had left to go to a tavern, leaving only two men behind to guard their cargo. Silently Belgard and Alamatar crept up behind the guards and jabbed their fingers in the backs of their necks, sending them to the floor in a crumpled heap. Their unconsciousness would not last long, but hopefully the two Settings could be gone from the docks by then. "Come on," Belgard said, rushing down the pier and into the city, staying deep in the shadows. This was not a time or a place he wanted anyone to see two Setting Suns running down alleyway after alleyway, especially since he knew their cover would be gone if one did; every person in this city knew of Belgard's great height and weight, and a nearly seven foot tall man could only be one person.

As the two left the streets of the city and out into the country, Alamatar took a dirt path to the left, and Belgard to the right. Belgard did not have far to walk before he found what he knew he was going to find. His manor was burned completely to the ground--only charred timbers remained--his botanical gardens were uprooted, and the trees, or what remained of them, were ashes and coals strewn about. And what he saw even most that clenched his middle in knots were the heads of his attendants and grooms, maids and menservants, jammed onto pikes and stuck up high into the air for all who passed to see. With a silent snarl he turned around and stared into the eyes of a person he really did not want to see. Rather, the eyes of fifty people he did not want to see.

Standing before him, their weapons drawn, were ten Setting Suns, each with two Rising Suns standing to their right and left behind them. Beyond were twenty mages, ten in white robes, ten in black, and amidst the group of whites was Alamatar, beating furiously on the white sphere that held her captive. A small flicker in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he saw nearly a hundred Rays appear out of the air. And beyond them, walking along on his large, armor-covered horse, was Xeros. The smile on his lips was anything but pleasant.

"Well, well, well," the king said, studying them as if he might an animal about to die. "You two are very hard to find. Very hard to find. With every bounty hunter looking for you from here to Siwann, I am surprised you got all the way back. A shame, isn't it? That you come all the way back here to try to save those who work for you only to find them dead and your mansions destroyed? Don't give me that look, Alamatar, I know that is why you came back. No matter. Settings, arrest him, and take them to the Castle; charge them with treason for killing a member of the Royal Family of Malchadia. You two might have killed my son, Belgard, but you will howl--both of you will--like dogs all the way to your graves. Take them away!" With that said, he wheeled his horse around and set out down the path that would lead him into Calystra.

Two Setting Suns approached Belgard to take his sword and sigil, but Belgard paid them no mind. His eyes were focused on Alamatar, still beating on her glowing prison and on the ten mages circling her. If only he could free her, they might have a chance of escaping. No Setting, Rising, or Ray wore any cloak to protect against black magic's Taint, and the white mages would be no problem if she were freed; Alamatar could easily overpower all of them in a moment, and the black mages….Belgard was sure they could find a way to kill those, too.

His sword being removed from his back brought Belgard back to the present. Instinctively he grabbed its hilt and yanked it free of the Setting's hands as he landed a fist in the man's face, sending him to the ground. The other one was nailed in the stomach by the sword's scabbard as Belgard bared the blade, and fluid as water he shouldered three more Settings out of the way and buried his sword to the guard in the chest of the nearest white mage. The knife Belgard wore inside his cloak flew from his other hand into the throat of a second mage. But that was all Belgard could do before knives of pain shot through his body, and unconsciousness flooded over him.

A while later, he did not know how long, Belgard woke in a cold, damp stone room, lit by four lamps, one in each corner. With the pounding in his head, he had no idea where in the Castle he was, nor did he care; all he wanted to do at the moment was get the straps of metal holding him upright to one of the walls off, so he could rest his tired muscles, and maybe put on some clothes. How did his muscles get so tired? He could not remember anything of what happened before he lost consciousness. "Hello, Belgard," a harsh, grating voice cut in from somewhere in the darkness. "I never expected that I would see _you_ down here. Not strapped to my wall and on the Traitors' List." The figure emerged into the light, and cloudy head or no, he knew exactly where he was. In the Chesmle, the worst torture chamber in the entire Malchadite Empire, also on the lowest floors of the Castle of Light. If Belgard had not rid that sensation from his body years ago, he would have been afraid.

"You know," he continued, "when Xeros learned that Barain was killed he nearly burned his clothes off with anger. I believe he said something along the lines of 'Those scum! Those incompetent scum! Kill them; find them and _kill them_!' " He was quite angry--he still is--but he would have had put everyone to death if High Lady Arian hadn't been here to cool off his temper." He--Belgard still could not remember the man's name, though he was sure he had seen him many times before--he walked over to the right wall, where the light did not reach, and drew something off the stone with a loud scrape and emerged back into the light, holding a device with many sharp edges and points. "I recently created this, hoping to use it on someone who committed an act such as yours. And, I think, someone with your great stature would be a perfect subject." He advanced toward Belgard with a wicked grin, and the last thing Belgard remembered before his screams pierced his head was that the man's name was Shonile.

What seemed like an eternity Belgard was un-strapped from the table and led out into the hall. Two Lights had to all but carry him, for his body was so weak that breathing became a struggle. As he walked down an endless maze of stone halls and barred cells, down many flights of stairs, he passed Alamatar, probably on her way to see Shonile. She was as naked as he, but when she saw his bloody, bruised body, her red eyes held a look he rarely ever saw. He could not say it was fear, more of awareness of what was in store, but mostly they carried a silent apology. By the look on her face, she would have Cured him right there, Taint or no, but she could barely move toward him before the mage behind her pushed her forward. They walked down another few corridors before they came to one that broke off into two directions, one to the right and one to the left. Down either way each was separated by iron gate after iron gate, each segment with a pair of lamps and two Light Suns. As he walked into each segment, the one behind him was closed and locked, and the two Suns guarding their section gripped their hilts and stared at him as if he were a wild lion. After the seventh gate the two men carrying him dumped him on the wet ground and left without a word. Belgard could hear the sound of locks being undone and redone as they made their way out of the cells.

Day after day Belgard sat in his dank prison; no one came to visit him except for the guard to give him his morning and evening meal--even then, the Sun said nothing. The silence was beginning to get to him. His wounds began to heal, some with hideous scars where that spiraling screw gouged his flesh, others too faint to see, although in this cell, Belgard could see virtually nothing. The stench of mold was nearly suffocating and made no better by his waste lying in a corner. He almost wished that Xeros would just kill him and be done with it.

But days later, whether one week or three, an assemblage of three Suns and ten white and black mages walked into his stone prison. One of the Settings dropped his clothing--his exact same shirt and pants, same cloak, and his Setting Sun Sigil--on the floor and said in an accent almost as heavy as Belgard's, "Get dressed." In silence he slowly dressed, watching the men grow more and more impatient, and when he was done, he was led out of his cell, half of the guards in front, the rest brining up the rear. One of the Risings was carrying his sword and assortment of knives, though he refused to hand them over. Belgard did not know what was happening, but he guessed they were leading him to a cart that would take him to the Coliseum. He was going to die at last.

The cart was little more than a metal cage tied to a team of horses. The bars were almost completely rusted, and the door squeaked loudly on its hinges as two Lights wrenched the door open. It slammed shut as soon as Belgard was through. He sat down on the rough wooden floor and leaned against the bars, waiting to leave. For over an hour, Belgard sat there, eyes closed, waiting for the Suns to return. Another half hour passed, and no one showed up. Where were they? The Hundred Sun March was rarely used, but the few times he could remember it being used, the prisoner would already be at the Coliseum, probably already hacked into hundreds of pieces. Belgard had no want to die, but he also had no want to delay it any more than it had to be.

Finally, footsteps echoed into the hall and made their way to the cart. One set made its way up to the driver's bench, and the other set stopped in front of the cage door. Once it again it screech opened, and Belgard opened his eyes to see Alamatar thrown in by a white mage before the cart made its way down the road. The mage sat down in one corner and completely ignored the two.

Alamatar's hands were bound in the small of her back, and a purple bruise surrounded her left eye. Even like that, she seemed as regal and commanding as any king. Belgard got up and sat down beside her so he could undo her hands. "You just had to give them trouble, didn't you?" he asked, smiling down at her. "I'm surprised they only gave you a black eye. What did you do, anyway?"

But she did not answer. Her face was apologetic, and her mouth worked wordlessly as she tried to say something. Instead she traced her fingers around his chest and stomach, feeling the wounds Shonile had given him, before the words finally came. "Belgard, I…I am so sorry." Her red eyes stared unblinkingly into his, looking for any reaction. "I've thought about it a lot during the week, and I know that I was…I was--"

Belgard placed two fingers over her lips. "You don't have to say anything, lass. It's already passed, anyway. We should be more concerned about now than anything else."

Alamatar's faced brightened, causing the bruise to tighten painfully. She moved over to the corner opposite the mage, joined by Belgard, and whispered, "Those Suns don't much enjoy being tossed around like a rag doll, you know? It's quite entertaining watching them scream and flail their arms like chickens with their heads chopped off."

Belgard roared. "Those idiots lowered their guard to a Setting! Goats have more common sense! Malchadia will go straight to the--"

An invisible fist slammed into Belgard's ribs. From the look on Alamatar's face, it hit her, too; she cast a dark glare at the mage, but to no avail. "Keep quiet, you two. You will talk enough at the Coliseum." They left his attention as soon as he had finished talking them, and he resumed staring off into nothing. Belgard always wondered what mages did that caused them to look at something yet not see it.

Belgard leaned back against the iron bars of the cage, and Alamatar rested her head on his shoulder. _Before I die, I will make sure that mage comes with me._

The cart rumbled on for two hours along a small, winding dirt path up to the Coliseum. It was a large building, made out of the same material as the Castle of Light, that overlooked a cliff. Rarely ever was it used, but when it was, almost every person within a day's ride showed up to cheer on the execution of the poor man to cross the king. Today, especially, at least two hundred thousand men would watch him die.

"Hey, you, get out." Belgard, lost in thought, had not realized that they were already through the gates, below the stadium floor. Alamatar stood amidst a group of white mages, and a group of Suns stood waiting for Belgard just outside the door of the cage. With all the dignity of a Setting, Belgard stood and walked down into the circle the Suns had formed and let them guide him down the passages he had guided others before they were executed. The mages walked just behind. Once again Alamatar's white prison surrounded her, and remained until they stood behind the barred door that would lead them out into the center of the Coliseum.

Their weapons stood propped against the stone wall--Belgard's sword, Alamatar's staff, and all of their knives. When Belgard picked up his weapons, he caught a glimpse out into the stadium's seating. Just as he expected; every seat was packed with men and women and children hip to hip on the rock seating. The king was there, sitting on a balcony in the very middle of the seats with a clear view of the floor. There was a glint in his eyes that said he would expect nothing less than a total butcher.

"Are you nervous?" Alamatar asked behind him as she came up and laid a hand on his arm. Her eyes held a look in them he rarely ever saw--in fact, has seen only one other time: fear. If she had not been holding her staff till her knuckles whitened, Belgard thought her hands would be shaking. He did not blamer her; if he were only eighteen he would be scared, too. He squeezed her hand and smiled down at her, hoping to comfort her, but to no avail.

"When we go out there, fight. Take as many men with you--with your magic, you could probably take out most of the field if you were careful. This place has never seen a Setting on this side of the March, and they would never expect it. Who knows, we might be able to take half of the March with us." Belgard pulled his sword out of his sheath and held it down at his side. If he was going to die, he would be death itself until he could no longer move. "And one more thing I want to tell you--"

The clanks as the gate cranked to the top cut off what he was going to say. "Move," one of the Risings said to Belgard and Alamatar as he prodded them into the center of the stadium. The people up in the seats shouted and screamed at them, and some of the ones close to the wall around the dirt floor threw rocks. But that was not what caught his attention; to his left stood one hundred men--ten Settings, twenty Lights, twenty Risings, and fifty Rays, all with weapons drawn and in charging position.

Xeros rose from his seat and held a black kerchief in his hand. With a flutter, it went flying into the air and floated slowly to the ground at Belgard's feet. The moment it landed the shouts and hollers of the audience grew and a heavy _thud, thud, thud,_ started. The Suns were marching ever closer, the Settings with wicked grins. Any moment now, they would charge, but he was ready. And out of the corner of his eye, Alamatar took her stance; she, too, was ready. _This will be a day well remembered_, Belgard thought.

In the blink of an eye, all the Settings who had been walking suddenly bolted. They ran one hundred feet over the dirt floor; two hundred; three hundred. As they neared less than one hundred feet away from him, Belgard and Alamatar themselves charged, and the first Setting fell as Belgard's sword cleaved off his head and the body rolled under the feet of the Setting and Rising following behind. Both Suns died by a jab in the ribs. And then just about the strangest thing Belgard had ever seen in his life happened.

The crowd became eerily silent, and the March stopped and stared at the men dead on the ground, as if amazed that trained killers had the gall to kill their executioners, or amazed that the Hundred Man March was not nearly as invincible as it seemed when it was against skilled fighters.

Brief as the confusion was, it was all the two needed. In a flash, Alamatar had cracked five Lights' skulls and broken both legs of a Setting, while Belgard cut the throats out of the four nearest Rays and planted his knife in another's eye. The screams of the audience turned to cheers as they realized that they would be watching a total slaughter instead of simply two bodies being hacked to thousands of pieces. Belgard could not help laughing as he saw the king shouting and waving his arms at his men to stop wondering what was going on and to just kill them.

Unfortunately for Alamatar and Belgard, the tables began to turn to Malchadia's favor. The eight remaining Settings formed a human wall, with Lights and Risings joining on either side and Rays filling in behind or rushing ahead to surround the two like wolves surrounding a wounded deer. _It was fun while it lasted_, was Belgard's last thought as he charged forward to meet death.

But, he only took a step before he bounced off an invisible wall followed by a dark flash of light. At least ten men fell to the ground with pure black spikes jutting from their necks. Alamatar let loose another barrage, but they bounced harmlessly off a solid white wall that shielded the Malchadites, and immediately closed in on itself around Alamatar to form an anti-Casting barrier. With a curse, she beat upon its smooth surface with her staff again and again, but did not succeed in breaking it. Her eyes were deep crimson as she tried to break it with magic, but all she did was expand its boundaries so that she had about a five-foot radius all around.

"What are you doing?" Xeros's angry voice drifted in from the audience's cheers . "You're backing up! Kill those scum _now_!" Belgard had not noticed that the ring surrounding him had slowly enlarged until there was about twenty feet between himself and any one Sun or Ray. The faces on some of the soldiers were pure terror, and some could not move from their spot, which was fortunate for Belgard, because he could not protect himself _and_ Alamatar if everyone charged together. He could handle three or four from different directions, but any more and he would be overwhelmed. Already he had cuts from knives or swords he could not parry, and wounds from spears he could not dodge, and Alamatar was near enough in the same condition.

A loud crack and thud of a body hitting the ground seemed to break everyone from their petrification as they streamed in to attack in the threes and fours. At first Belgard had no problem keeping everyone away; a swipe here and a jab there and no one got very close. Even Alamatar took some down if they strayed into her barrier. But as three groups of three attacked all at once or four groups of two, being able to defend from all directions became harder and harder, and because of it a knife was dug almost hilt-deep into his arm. That soldier went down with a scream.

If Belgard believed in luck, right then he would have claimed that it was what caused him to glimpse in Alamatar's direction. While she was busy parrying the sword thrusts from the men outside her bubble, she did not notice the Setting creeping up behind her, almost ready to thrust a knife in her neck. As fast as he could, he cleared a path with his sword, and when he neared Alamatar, Belgard stuck his hand through the barrier and secured it around the man's throat. He garbled some curse, and Alamatar wheeled around to deliver a blow right between his legs which sent him to the ground unconscious. And the crowds only cheered louder.

Movement in the corner of Belgard's eye sent him spiraling around--

And he almost ripped his arm from his socket. _What is this?_ The arm he had reached into the barrier was solidly stuck up to the elbow; no amount of pulling would free it. "Alamatar!" he shouted as he brought his sword down on a Ray's head and received a cut along the back of his leg from a Rising. "Get my arm free!" Another Ray went down, and he received three cuts along his back and side. "Now!"

As he gave his attention to keeping away swords and spears, he felt Alamatar slip her hand into his and whisper two words: "I'm sorry."

What came next, Belgard could never describe. Fire flowed through his body, trying to freeze him to the core, and ice rushed through his veins, trying to sear him to ashes. Light darker than the darkest shadow and darkness brighter than the sun blinded his vision, and the only thing he heard was the roar of water breaking on rocks. He did not know if he held his sword or even stood; his entire body was numb. The pain he had received from the battlefield was swept away by the torrent of pain that wanted to tear him apart. _Belgard._ The word cut through the bellows of the ocean and rang as clear as crystal. _Belgard, extend you sword_.

His sword? He had a sword? _Yes. You have a sword. Now extend it._ Belgard had know idea what he was doing, but he felt something very far away being lifted up, felt it stop when it was perpendicular to his body. _Good. Now swing it._ The same distant sensation as he felt that something move from left to right--and he could see again. The pain and light and roars were still there, but he could feel them being guided from his body to his hand and into his sword. He could see again, though it was as if he were looking up from underneath a surface of water; he could hear the roars of the audience again, despite them being very soft and far away; the pain lessened as it was put into his sword.

His sword began to change colors from its normal silvery steel to death black, and then it erupted. Lightning poured from its tip and cut through men and armor; fire shot from its flat side, torching everyone it touched and scorching what got too close; ice flowed from the hair-fine edges of the blade, freezing all it covered. His muscles were seized by the same force that wanted to rip him to shreds, and he watched as they pointed up to a section of the seating near the very top. Mages, both white and black, fell from their benches with tendrils of lightning wrapped around their bodies. None got up.

__

Point your sword at the grate. The iron grate in the center of the Coliseum blew apart as liquid fire danced from the entire blade of his sword. The molten metal splattered on the ground, the stone walls, and two Suns who were too close to the explosion. _Now run_. As fast as his legs would carry him, Belgard bolted for the opening he had created, only to stop short by a sensation that nearly sent him to the ground. Over all the pain drifted a deep and utter sorrow that nearly swept away everything but consciousness. And as he looked up into the crowds, he understood the meaning of the sorrow. A shadow was twisting and contorting like a tornado everywhere he could see--over the dirt floor, in the air, and in the seating. Men were lying everywhere he could see, some vomiting, many dead, and the rest dying. As the last person fell in death, the feeling only grew.

But that was nothing compared to the grief he felt as his eyes fell upon a certain woman with black hair covering half her face, lying up near the top of the stadium. The shackles tied around her ankles and neck were the only things that kept her lifeless body from dropping to the ground. The Taint was flowing around and through her, too, and Belgard knew that Alamatar would never enjoy the company of Artaemia again.

__

We are not safe yet. Run. The words were not as clear as before; they felt…full of a deep sorrow. It was not wonder, either; after seeing all the deaths of innocent citizens and the death of a most beloved friend, Belgard was amazed that there was not more grief.

As he made his way to the opening, lightning broke the ground around him, and the earth itself shook violently . And then he was over the edge, falling the ground miles below. As he neared the forest at the bottom, darkness engulfed him.

"Wow," Jesika said, amazed by the story. Other than that, she did not say anything. Link and Gywan, too, were speechless. "That's a lot to go through….Did all those people really die?"

"Yes, lass. Every person who was not a mage or did not wear Charmed clothes could not withstand the strength of the Taint. It was just a shame Xeros was spared." Belgard stared off into the red embers of the fire for a long time. "We should be getting some sleep; it is almost dawn."

As Jesika laid back down in her leaf bed, her thoughts drifted to the party member who was not present. "I wish I knew how Alamatar was doing," she sighed.

"Alamatar will be fine," Belgard said lightly. "She's already stopped crying and is sleeping right now--has been for some time. Same as we all should be doing. Hopefully she will come back tomorrow."

"How do you know?" Jesika asked, laying down in her heap, shifting her cloak to serve as a blanket.

"That is for another time, lass," Belgard answered and fell quiet.

She let out a sigh, and fell asleep. Yes, hopefully Alamatar would come back tomorrow.

Unfortunately, Alamatar did not show up the next day. Nor did she all of that week. Belgard said that she was okay, but just needed some time to herself at the moment. And he still would not say how he knew these things. Link and Belgard went out every morning to hunt a few rabbits, Jesika would cook them in a stew, and Gywan would bring back firewood and kindling. Everyday they would do this, and Jesika felt more and more ready to burst with anxiety and worry for her friend. Until the eighth day, when she finally came back.

Alamatar stumbled--more of a standing crawl--into camp. Clearly she had eaten very little, if at all, and what sleep she did get did little good. Which was why she would have fallen on her face had Belgard not caught her.

He picked her up and carried her over to a log that sat close to the fire. Setting her on his lap, Belgard fed her spoonful after spoonful of stew, and had to refill the bowl three times before she would eat no more. At that point the exhaustion just put her into a deep sleep, and for the rest of the morning and afternoon, the two sat there, Alamatar with her head on Belgard's chest and Belgard, combing his fingers through her hair. At nightfall he gently set her in his bed of leaves and stretched out by the fire before he fell asleep.

Jesika stayed up late into the night, watching the small flames lick into the air. Belgard was sound asleep in a small ball on the opposite side of the fire, Gywan and Link were dreaming in their bundles of leaves, and Alamatar was sleeping so heavily that an earthquake would not wake her.

For another hour or so, Jesika sat on her log, throwing small sticks on the embers, thinking about everything that had happened. In less than a month, her town was destroyed, she had to leave her own country, and has to hide in the forests of Malchadia from almost the entire empire. Quite enough for any one person, she thought. She would not deny that she was scared stiff that one day they would find her and kill her or Link or anyone who was with her, and she would not deny that at least with Link, there was some comfort. But how she wished that they would find a nice place to live, a place well away from Malchadia, so she could be at peace.

At long last, Jesika finally headed over to her bed and laid down. Her bed was near Link so for a few moments she watched his sleeping face before turning on her side and falling fast asleep.

The next day when Jesika awoke, everyone was already up--even Alamatar. She was sitting by the fire, cooking another few rabbits on rocks. _Man am I getting sick of rabbit,_ Jesika thought sourly. She would rather have the gristly meat from a cucco than another rabbit. Link and Belgard were practicing in a small clearing they had made while Gywan watched from the trees. From what she could see, no matter how fiercely they attacked, neither of the two were gaining any ground on the other. What a boring hobby.

Jesika got up and sat down next to Alamatar. "Good morning," Alamatar said, smiling. "You sure slept late." She seemed to be doing better than she did the day before; the bags under her eyes were not nearly as dark, and her eyes were not bloodshot--though with red eyes, that was hard to tell--and she had much more energy. "Breakfast?"

"No, thank you," Jesika said, standing up. "I think I'm going to go take a nice bath. You want to come? The spring isn't very far away."

"Sorry, I can't. I have to finish making breakfast for these two endless pits," Alamatar said, pointing to a still fighting Link and Belgard. "But take care. Not everything in this forest is friendly."

Jesika waved goodbye and headed off into the woods. The path quickly became rugged, and she had to start watching where she put her feet, or some of the vines would tangle them up. After a few moments of walking, crawling over fallen trees, and unwrapping vines off her feet and legs, she finally reached the hot spring.

As Jesika stood at the edge of pool, she could see through the crystal-clear water all way to the bottom. Small fish colored in reds, yellows, oranges, and pinks swam near the dirt floor, nibbling on weeds. Fortunately, none went anywhere near the surface. In certain parts of the spring, bubbles broke through the water and drifted away into the air.

After she had folded her clothes and put them on a nearby log, she dove into the water. It was slightly warm, and felt good since she had not taken a bath in over a week; her hair felt less grimy, and the oils on her arms and legs and face that were washed away made her feel almost totally clean again. If only she had some soap, then she _would_ be totally clean.

For about the next hour, she swam around the little spring, swimming to the sandy floor, diving headfirst from a tree trunk that stuck out into the pool, sticking her feet in the little stream of bubbles so they would tickle her toes, and anything else she could think of. After more than an hour, she was tired of being in the water and moved to a patch of grass on which the sun shone. Stretching out on the soft green, she let the sun dry her body while she lay there with her eyes closed. Or she did until she heard a deep growl from the water.

Immediately her eyes bolted open, searching the area around the spring for the animal but did not see anything. Quickly as she could, Jesika made her way over to where she had placed her clothes and had grabbed her skirt when she heard it again. This time much closer. Slowly, very slowly, she turned around, and stared directly at the ugliest lizard she had ever seen.

It had eight short, stubby legs, scales plated all around its body, a long tail, and a muzzle which looked more like a beak than a mouth. For a moment the beast stood there, nostrils flaring in the air, before it slithered-crawled to where Jesika stood, a hungry look in its eyes.

The second it had started moving Jesika screamed at the top of her lungs and backed up so quickly that she did not notice that the log was behind her until she had tripped over it and fallen on her rear. She screamed again as the lizard crawled onto the log, and it made its own shriek as its beaked mouth lunged for her throat.


	4. Magistrates

Alamatar walked down the dirt path that would lead to the spa Jesika had talked about. Belgard and Link were fed, Gywan was napping, and Alamatar wanted to talk with Jesika. Hopefully she had not gone off anywhere, because Belgard wanted to set out by noon and get as far from Melkaban as possible. Alamatar strolled down the dirt path, humming to herself and tapping her staff on the ground in beat to the tune. As the ground turned more rugged, wildlife began appearing; lizards crawled over logs and though vines, squirrels climbed up trees with acorns in their mouths, and birds flew overhead, whistling as they went by. Taking a deep breath, Alamatar inhaled all the pleasant smells of the forest air. Memories flitted back to her, of when she was a small child and would play for hours in the woods near her village, never having to worry about anything. Sometimes she wished life were that easy now.

While Alamatar was climbing over a an enormous tree trunk lying on the path, a piercing scream shattered the silence, and some of the birds that had been singing flew out of their nests in fright. A moment later another scream sent more birds flying. _That sounds like Jesika!_ She jumped off the tree and ran as fast as she could to the end of the path and out into a small clearing.

Right in front of Alamatar was Jesika, pinned to the ground and struggling with an enormous lizard. The beast was lying on top of her, trying to use its two front legs to pin down her arms so it could get to her neck. Jesika's left arm was jammed in its mouth and her free hand was beating the side of its snout; from the look of it, it was hurting her more than the lizard. The beast garbled out a splitting shriek and managed to spit the arm out as well as pin it into the dirt with a twisted foot. Using its stomach muscles, it slithered forward until its face was right over hers, and, rearing back its head and opening its mouth wide, it lunged--

Only to catch the knot of Alamatar's staff right on the tip of its muzzle. With a squeal, the lizard rolled off to the side and was smacked in the face again. Again it rolled to the side--but this time twisting around with its tail to Alamatar--and scurried toward the spring as fast as it could to swim away to wherever it came from.

"Are you okay?" Alamatar asked, kneeling down beside Jesika, who was racking herself in sobs. Whether from pain or fear, Alamatar did not know, but she guessed a mixture of both. She helped Jesika to her feet, and the two limped over to the water and sat down. Taking off her cloak, Alamatar Casted slightly to remove the waterproof Charm and soaked a corner in the spring. Gently dabbing the wet cloth to Jesika's chest, Alamatar ignored her pained winces as she began cleaning the blood from the wound.

"Stop that," Jesika said in a shaky voice. "That hurts." She tried to turn away, but Alamatar grabbed her shoulder and forced her to sit still.

"Don't move. I know this hurts, but I have to see how serious the wounds are." After Alamatar had cleaned Jesika's chest, she started on her arm--and nearly had to sit on Jesika's lap to get it washed. A minute later she understood why Jesika had put up such a fuss with her arm: the skin was almost completely gone, leaving only a few strips clinging to the bone. When Jesika tried to touch the raw flesh with a finger, she recoiled in pain and her body convulsed. "Looks like I'll have to make something for your arm. Come on, let's get you dressed and back to camp."

Alamatar helped Jesika back into her clothes, set her cloak about her shoulders, and restored the waterproof Charm on her own cloak and gently wrapped it around Jesika's arm. As they made their way down the path, any trunk Jesika could not easily step over or around, Alamatar reduced to splinters. She looked up at the sky and almost gasped when she saw that it was well past noon. _That took longer than I thought. Belgard won't be too happy when we get back to camp._

"Well, it's about time you guys got back," Link said when he caught sight of them entering camp. "Belgard was just about to--what happened?" He saw the cloak wrapped around Jesika's arm and was immediately on his feet and at her side. Guiding her to where he had been sitting on a log by the fire, he asked, "Jesika, are you alright?"

But before she had time to answer, Alamatar grabbed Link's arm and started guiding him toward a spot on the other side of camp. "Belgard, come here." She could feel Belgard's annoyance flare up in the back of her mind as he came out from the trees right in front of Link and Alamatar. He opened his mouth to say something--probably to demand where she and Jesika had been for so long--but she placed a silencing finger across his lips. "We won't be able to leave just yet." She explained what had happened and Jesika's condition, all the while feeling Belgard's irritation drain into concern. "You and Link go find Gywan and bring me back some headsweed and blueroot. Please hurry."

"But lass, headsweed doesn't grow out here; it's only found near Calystra."

She paused. Belgard was right; headsweed _did_ only grow near Calystra, but usually shops all over the Empire carried it in case she did not have any herself. Unfortunately, she could not simply go buy some back at Melkaban. "Okay, okay; there should be kingsleaf somewhere in this blasted forest….Well, what are you waiting for? Get going!" The two men crossed over to another part of the clearing and walked into the forest to wherever Gywan was and disappeared out of sight.

Alamatar sat down next to Jesika and started unraveling the cloak from around her arm. Jesika winced the moment she saw the horrid wound. "We have to let your arm air out for a little while," Alamatar said, tenderly probing the edge of the sore with a finger. "Try not to touch your arm; it will get infected. I have to go get some water, so I should be back shortly." She grabbed the gourd they used to boil water from its spot near the fire pit and started making her way down toward the spring.

Along the path, the birds were back on their branches, singing their hearts out to any who would listen. She could make out the cry of sparrows and thrushes hidden behind the leaves of the trees and the deeper voices of the jays. The songs followed her all the way down to the hot springs, with some of the birds hopping along the ground at her feet to peer curiously over the crystalline surface of the water at their reflections. One leaned too far and fell splashing into the pond.

As Alamatar fished the bird out of the spring, she dipped in the gourd and filled it to the brim. Setting the bird down on a low branch, she headed back to camp, trying not to slosh too much water on the ground. Jesika was sitting in front of the fire, resting her chin in her right hand and watching the flames lick up and down some fresh logs. She seemed deep in thought, and did not notice Alamatar until she had set the gourd down on the embers of the fire. "What are you thinking?" Alamatar asked, sitting down on the log next to her.

"Oh…nothing really," Jesika replied a bit uncomfortably. "It doesn't matter."

"It must matter to you, otherwise you wouldn't be thinking about it. Come on, tell me. I know it's important; I can see it in your eyes."

Jesika fell silent for a moment and gazed into the burning embers before answering. "It's just that…I'm no good out here. I can't fight, I don't know anything about surviving in the wilderness; the only thing I can do is work around the house. I'm totally _useless_ out here!" She kicked a small piece of wood into the fire before going on. "I just wish I could go back home."

"Oh? Where is your home?" Alamatar's red eyes pierced deep into Jesika's until Jesika broke the connection and looked down at the ground.

"Nowhere really. Not anymore. I guess with Hyrule being gone, I don't really have a home….I'd rather just settle down some place far away from Malchadia and Hyrule and live the rest of my life out."

"Hm…I know how you feel," Alamatar said thoughtfully, stoking the fire to keep the flames high.

"How so?"

Before answering, Alamatar finished moving around the logs and stood up to stretch. "I mean I know what it's like to want to find a place to settle down. I never was much for being away from my house for more than a month at a time. I always loved being around my maids and workers; to me they were almost like my family. And when they were killed, I wanted to go to a small country far away from Malchadia and start a new life. I didn't care that I would have to start from scratch; as long as I could have one I would be happy."

"So why didn't you?"

"Belgard didn't want to. For the most part he hated being home; he said it was boring, and the only way he could get his maids to stop badgering him about his meals was to hide in his gardens. Those were the only things he liked on his entire estate; everything else brought back bad memories from his childhood." Alamatar realized she was starting to talk about Belgard and moved back onto her original explanation. "So I chose to stay with him and roam Malchadite wilderness, guiding travelers through the more dangerous parts and attacking small Malchadite convoys. Then, three years later we found you." She stood up to rebuild the fire and get the water back to a boil. "Hey, Jesika, will you go tell Belgard that I am going to need some red clover?"

"What? Belgard isn't even--" she turned around when she heard some bushes rustle and Belgard emerged--"…back." She watched in amazement as he smiled at her and brought an assortment of plants to Alamatar. "Alamatar, how did you know that?" she asked, a bit fazed.

"Know what?" And then it hit her what she had done: she had known Belgard was about to enter camp even though her back was turned to him; silently she cursed herself for her slip. In her mind, she could feel Belgard's curiosity, but it quickly turned into realization as he figured out what had happened. He actually laughed out loud when he sensed her displeasure, and even harder when she shot him a heated glare.

"Don't look at me like that!" Belgard said between laughs. "You knew they would find out sometime; the cards just happened to fall earlier than you expected." As Alamatar's faced melted into resolve, Belgard's sobered. "Go ahead and tell her, lass. Believe me, she'll only bug you to death if you don't. I'll go see what's taking Link and Gywan so long." With a friendly smile taking in both Alamatar and Jesika, he turned to go back into the woods. She felt his assurances flood her thoughts as he disappeared behind the thick flora.

"Belgard," Alamatar called just before he disappeared from sight, "bring me back some red clover." She fell silent as she concentrated on mashing the blueroot to a pulp and picking the purple petals off the kingsleaf. When she dumped them into the boiling water, it turned purple and gave off a pleasant aroma. "You know all about what happened, right?" she asked, turning to face Jesika, but did not wait for Jesika's nod before going on. "Belgard told you about my Casting through him? Good. Well, you see, of all the types of magic, Black is by far the most unknown; it does things sometimes no one would ever expect to happen. Usually the more dangerous the Cast, the more unexpected and stranger the result, such as the Bond--what Belgard and I share. It seems that whenever a Black Mage uses another person as a focal point to Cast, there is a chance that the magic will create a link between the two. It doesn't happen all the time, or even often, but…it did happen to us, at least."

Jesika sat there for a moment before asking with a slight grin, "What is it like to be Bonded to Belgard?"

Alamatar gave a small laugh. "You have _no_ idea. There is absolutely no privacy; I can feel his pain, his emotions, and even some of his thoughts, and he can feel mine. Although sometimes--more often than not, actually--it is great to have." She peered into the gourd to check on the concoction, and, deciding it was done heating, stuck the handle of her staff into a small hole in its side, picked it up out of the fire, and set it down next to Jesika's feet. She touched her finger to the surface of the water and sent a small stream of liquid ice into it. Steam billowed up as the water cooled down, and when it was lukewarm, she stopped her Cast. "Take the cloak off your arm," she told Jesika.

As Jesika unraveled the cloth from around her wound, she had to turn her head to keep from seeing it; even Alamatar had a hard time looking at the ugly sore, especially since a deal of the bone was visible through the few scraps of skin that were left. "Good. Bring your arm over here. All we're going to do is put it in the water; everything else will happen on its own."

"Is this going to hurt?" Jesika said after looking at the purple color of the water. She began to slowly retract her arm, but Alamatar grabbed it by the elbow and thrust it down beneath the surface. Immediately the water began swirling and bubbling around the area of the raw flesh. The dark purple hue lightened and a moment later the water was crystal clear again and a scab now covered what was the abraded skin.

"There is no need to wrap your cloak around your arm anymore. The scab will cover it just fine. Just…try not to do any work with your left arm for a while, and try not to break the wound open." Grabbing the gourd's brim, Alamatar walked over to the trees and emptied it over a patch of clover, sending up a swarm of small white insects. She hoped when Belgard returned he would have some meat for dinner; she was getting hungry and Jesika would be ravenous in about an hour, after the medicine's side effects kicked in.

As she stood there watching small lizards crawl over the leaf-covered ground, lapping up some of the water she had dumped out, something behind her tugged at the gourd in her hands. Grabbing her knife she kept at her belt, Alamatar whirled around to spear whatever animal was behind her--and narrowly avoided stabbing Belgard, who was jumping out of the way of her blade. "Whoa, easy there, lass. I didn't mean to startle you; I just thought I'd go fill up that gourd so I could boil your clover."

She put her knife back in its leather sheath and handed the gourd over to him, an apologetic smile on her face. "Sorry about that. I was just thinking and didn't notice you come up behind me. Good thing you haven't slowed down any, or I might have speared you like a rabbit."

"No kidding," he replied, a little drier than he had to. "But come on, let's get back to camp. Link and Gywan have a wolf cooking tonight, so you don't have to put up with rabbit again. I'll go fill this up with water, and then we can make your tea." The two walked back to where Link was cutting slices of meat from the wolf and setting them on cooking rocks, Alamatar taking a seat on the log next to Jesika, and Belgard continuing into the forest to the spring.

"Hey, Link?" Alamatar asked, setting her cloak on the ground behind her. "Can I ask you a question? I at least have been wondering, and I'm sure everyone else has, too: what are you going to do now? I mean, you aren't in Hyrule anymore--you're pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Are you just going to stay here and run around the forests forever or will you find a nice place where no one will find you and live there? Or what?"

Link had stopped dead still the moment he heard her first question, and Gywan had to finish cutting the meat and putting it on the fire. From the corner of her eye, Alamatar could see that Jesika's ears lifted slightly so she could hear better; it seemed that Jesika was curious about Link's answer, too. "I had given it some thought," he said moving to a log opposite Alamatar so he could talk to her better. "And…I honestly don't know what to do. I can't just hide out in the wilderness; my own people are captive in Hyrule. But I also can't just walk into Hyrule, kill all the Malchadites, and be the hero."

"Why not?" Jesika asked, lifting her head to look into his face. "You did it once with Ganon. Why couldn't you do it with Malchadia?"

"It's not as simple as that, lass," Belgard said, walking up from the path with a sloshing water-filled gourd. He set it down right in the hot coals, next to the still cooking meat. "Link might have been able to defeat one person and a thousand mindless beings created from his magic, but going against thousands of Malchadite troops and Mages will get him killed very fast--Hey! I'm only being honest!" he said when Jesika shot him a cold glare.

"Jesika, Belgard is right," Gywan said. "There should be thousands of soldiers in Hyrule right now--it's standard procedure for the Empire. I'm not sure how many soldiers will be sent home because it's such a small land, but probably most will stay, among them being Mages and Settings. From what the books say and what I've seen, Link's an excellent fighter….But armies don't even stand up to that kind of a force."

"But then what is Link going to do?" Jesika asked. She opened her mouth as if she were going to say more, but just closed it instead.

Alamatar sat down and stared into the fire for a while, thinking about how she would answer that question. Belgard was staring down at his sword, tracing his finger along patterns in the blade. She could feel that he did not know what to do; Belgard always loved to fight, but going into a land with those odds…that was nothing more than suicide. _What can we do?_ she thought. _Nowadays we can't enter any town or city unless we want to risk being turned in. There's not really anyone we could go to except…. _"Makaeal!" she abruptly shouted, causing both Jesika and Gywan to jump in surprise. "We can go see Makaeal! I'm sure he'll know what to do."

"Alamatar?" Belgard said, looking up into her eyes. "Are you sure that's wise? He lives on the other side of the Empire and we'd have to cross the Dragons' Nest to get there. I shouldn't have to remind you what lives in _that_ hole." Belgard's accent made the disgust in his voice sound even more sinister, but she did not need the Bond or his tone of voice to know his unease with that place; on their third mission they had to cross the Nest and he barely made it out with his life. But of course he was not worried about himself. He was more worried about Jesika who carried no weapon and did not know how to fight at all.

"Yes, Belgard, I remember what lives there. But it's not changing the fact that we _are_ going. Maybe we can find another way around, but if we have to go through, we will." She saw Belgard open his mouth to protest, but before he could get anything out, she said, "Please don't argue, Belgard. We will just have to watch each other's back very carefully." Belgard sighed and shook his head in consent. "Good. Let's eat and get some sleep; we should get up early tomorrow and set out by dawn."

King Xeros walked down a carpeted hall of Hyrule Castle, looking at the intricate designs on the large rugs hanging on the walls. Most were of either the legendary Triforce or the Hylian goddesses, but a few had pictures of hilltops covered with men and ancient species fighting against large metal giants and a man with a gem encrusted upon his forehead. These tapestries were the most interesting of all; not one Malchadite scholar or historian who inspected them could tell anything about the ancient species or what those metal giants were, and the Hylians themselves refused to talk. _It seems this little land has more history than I thought._

At the end of the hallway, the carpet ended and he stepped out onto the crystal tile of the foyer. This was his favorite place of the entire castle--except for maybe the garden--and not without reason: two large marble statues of warriors wielding swords dutifully stood guard on either side of the large hallway leading to the Royal Suites, and smaller versions stood next to the side passages on either side of the room. Long staircases wound up the sides of the walls to a second floor fifty feet above his head. The entire room shone brightly during the day as sunlight streamed through the large glass windows on the walls and the ceiling and reflected off the crystalline marble.

At the end of the middle hallway a door slammed shut, and a person wearing gold-sewn robes walked towards him. Xeros could feel the agitation begin to boil inside of him again as he stormed toward the woman who was gracefully gliding on the carpet. "I take it he isn't cooperating, Seomai," he snarled through almost completely gritted teeth.

"No, he is not," she answered, meeting his fiery glare with her own gentle stare. Nothing ever seemed to phase that woman. "I've talked to him the entire night and most of this morning; I just can't get him to reason. He won't agree to anything I've proposed."

Xeros stood still for a moment, casting a dark glare at the door from which Seomai had come. "Maybe we are going about these negotiations in the wrong manner. I think I know how to get him to agree." Drawing the dagger at his belt, he stomped down the rest of the hall and stood before the door behind which the King of Hyrule was kept. Two Light Suns stood guard with their spears crossed over the door but immediately held them straight upon their king's arrival. A Sun standing to the right of the door pulled a metal ring off his belt and used the only key attached to it to open the large lock on the door handle.

As Xeros gripped the handle and was about to wrench it open, another hand grabbed his and forced it to let go. "Seomai," he gritted, "what are you doing?"

Despite the look he gave her, she still was not phased. "I am not letting you into that room until you calm down. Your anger…has a tendency to take control of you and make you do stupid things--things you will regret later. You are not about to screw up all the work I put in to at least getting the king to talk to us. Do you understand me?"

Had any other woman stood there and said that to him, Xeros would have ordered her arrest on the spot, but Seomai was one of his most trusted advisors and he always had a hard time doing what she said not to do. As her soft yet commanding gaze stared him right in the face, he could feel himself cooling off. The anger and impatience were still there, but at least it was more in check. Turning away from her, her freed his hand from hers and stepped into the room.

The inside of the room was dark with thick curtains covering the windows. The only light came from four small candles, one set in each corner. The floor was carpeted--there was no uncarpeted room in the entire castle--but all the furniture had been removed except one wooden chair which was currently being used by King Zelia. Four Lights stood at attention in their posts at the corners of the chair. "I heard you've been quite uncooperative, Zelia," Xeros said, walking up to Hyrule's king. The man did not acknowledge Xeros' presence. Grabbing a fistful of Zelia's hair, Xeros violently wrenched his head back and said in very controlled words, "Listen, old man, there are a couple of things I want from you, and if you won't give them to me--"

"Get out of my kingdom," Zelia interrupted weakly. But in the look he gave Xeros there was nothing except fierce hatred and anger.

A moment later Zelia was lying on the ground four feet from the chair, holding the right side of his head with hand. Blood trickled down his fingers and the skin was already beginning to darken where the broadside of Xeros' dagger had hit his temple. "This is no longer your kingdom, Zelia; it's mine. Unfortunately, your people will not obey the regent I have put in charge, so here is what you are going to do: you will sign a royal decree saying you will submit to the authority of Malchadia and that all the people of Hyrule will do the same."

"Nothing you say will make me sign that." As weak as Zelia was, he stood on his feet and defiantly looked Xeros in the eye.

With great effort, Xeros kept the corners of his mouth from twisting into a wicked grin. "Sit down," he said, grabbing the old man's shirt and throwing him into the chair with enough force to knock it over. He motioned to two of the Lights to get Zelia to his feet, and he pulled back one of the heavy curtains to look at the bustling village below. It was a normal day--everyone was hurrying around the town; men had their carts on the sides of the roads, selling their wares; little children were playing with dogs in the streets--except for the fact that Risings were posted at every corner and patrolled the streets, but for the most part they were ignored by the people. "Look at this village, Zelia: Hyrule Village. I hear it's one of the largest villages in all of Hyrule. I also hear that the Kakariko and Lon-Lon Villages are the other two largest. Is that correct?"

"What are you getting at?" Zelia demanded, shaking free of the two Suns' grips.

"Let me just say that if you don't sign my decree, I will very quickly turn those three towns into nothing more than charred rubble. Is that qui--"

With a shout, Zelia launched himself at Xeros with surprising strength for such an old age and wrapped his fingers around his enemy's neck. Immediately, the Suns were upon him, two grabbing him by the arms and wrenching his hands away from their king's neck, the other two viciously stabbing his sides with the butts of their spears. "That's enough!" Xeros shouted. "Let him go." The two Suns holding Zelia's arms let him fall to the floor. "You have two days to sign it, old man, or I _will_ destroy those villages." Without another word or a look at the whimpering heap on the floor, he walked out of the room with Seomai right behind him.

"Well, you threw tact right out the window," she said, a small smile creasing her lips, "but at least you got what you want." Her golden robes flowed behind her as she walked down the hall and disappeared around a corner.

Turning to the two Suns standing beside the door, Xeros said softly, "Inform the Dungeon Master that once Zelia has signed the decree an unfortunate accident is to befall him. One so severe that he will not survive." The Suns nodded in agreement, and he walked down the rest of the hallway to the Royal Suites. The doors leading into his room were not nearly as ornate as those in Malchadia, but were marvelous pieces of work in their own right.

As Xeros walked into his room, a man stood up from a chair set in front of his cluttered desk. "Sun Xeros," the man said, bowing his head slightly. Xeros nodded his head in acknowledgement and noticed the Red Sun Sigil on his breast.

"What can I do for you, Setting Mashen?" Xeros asked, sitting in a padded chair behind his desk and motioning Mashen to do the same. Silently, the Setting handed over a couple sheets of paper. "What are these?" he asked, scanning each page but not really interested in what they had to say.

"The top page is a report of the whereabouts of Alamatar and Belgard." Immediately, Xeros stopped flipping through the pages and turned back to the first one. "The first part is the report from a spy near Melkaban and the second is from the Master of Spies as to what their course of action might be." Xeros could hardly keep in his excitement as he read both reports; it had been almost two and a half years since he last received a report this detailed about those two traitorous Suns, and this one had more information than he ever hoped to see. "Of course by now they are long gone from where they were detailed in the report, but we believe they will are heading for the Dragons' Nest."

"Tell the Master of Spies to keep me posted on their whereabouts, Setting….If it's possible." Mashen stood from his chair and bowed slightly before leaving the room. _If they are going to the Dragons' Nest, they will probably die inside,_ Xeros thought to himself. _But then again, they have survived things that would have killed anybody else. Oh well, I'll decide how to handle them tomorrow._ Reaching a hand up to his right shoulder, Xeros undid the golden chain holding up his cape and hung in inside his wardrobe along with his belt and boots. A moment later, he had changed into a silk robe and slipped beneath the sheets and blankets and fallen asleep.

"How is Aestal?" Nabooru asked, walking into the large dining hall. Or what used to be the dining hall; now instead of rows of tables lining the floor were rows of cots, each one occupied by an injured Gerudo. As Nabooru stood over the bed on which Aestal lay, she could feel the bile creeping up her throat; blood, flowing from four large holes in Aestal's chest where arrows had pierced her, stained the bed sheets, the wooden bedposts, and the stone floor. Aestal herself was just barely breathing and looked on the verge of death.

The woman kneeling by the bed did not speak for many minutes as she wrapped bandages around Aestal's chest and poured a small vial of red liquid down her throat. "She's not doing well, Nabooru," the doctor said, standing up. "She's lost a lot of blood and we don't have enough healing potion to replace it. If we keep getting injuries like this we won't have any fighters or potion left."

Scowling, Nabooru turned away and looked out a small window near the bed. She knew full well how short they were running on supplies and warriors, but there was nothing she could do; as long as those foreigners kept invading, the Gerudo would keep attacking until either they or the enemy were destroyed. Already, too many Gerudo had died. As she stared out the window, one of the guards patrolling the roof of a house on the far side of the village spotted her and motioned her over. "Neirith, I have to go. Try to get some of these women in fighting condition within a few days, if you can." Giving Neirith a smile, Nabooru left her tending to Aestal and headed out into a hall at the far end of the room.

The hall was dimly lit, with only enough torches to light up its corners and bends. There was no carpet or furnishings in the hall, so it was rarely used, and Nabooru's leather boots left deep prints in the dust. After a moment a doorway appeared in the right wall, leading to a small staircase which would take her up to the roofs. As she set foot on the first step, the building violently shook, and Nabooru slipped and hit her head on the edge of a stair.

Crying out in pain, she tried to unsteadily get back to her feet, but another tremor shook her to the ground. This time Nabooru stayed where she lay, waiting for her double vision to fade away. At last, she crawled up to her knees, her head still spinning slightly, and felt hands grip her under her arms and pull her to her feet. "Nabooru!" a voice called, slightly pushing her backwards to lean against the wall. "What happened?"

Neirith stood in front of her, inspecting her injury, while four Gerudo rushed up the stairs. "I only fell and hit my head. What's going on up there?"

"You'll have a nasty bruise on your head for a while, but you should be fine. Can you see okay?"

Plucking a vial of healing potion off Neirith's belt, Nabooru gulped it down and shut her eyes tightly for a moment. The pounding in her head lessened a bit and when she opened her eyes, the spinning had faded. "Yes, I'll be fine." Without another word, she bolted up the three sets of stairs and emerged out onto the roofs and into the starry night sky. What she saw was nothing less than what she expected: there was fighting everywhere, with these foreigners dropping left and right, and, unfortunately, her own soldiers, though not nearly as frequently. Soldiers were streaming through the small mountain pass and into the town, some falling as arrows pierced through their armor.

"Hey, there's one over there!" someone shouted, just barely audible over the din of clashes and screams. Turning around to look in the direction she thought she heard the voice, Nabooru saw two men run over from the far side of the roof, both wielding a sword. As the first soldier reached her and swung, she ducked under his arms and kicked his feet out from under him, sending him thudding to the ground. The other one managed to lightly nick her arm before she got close enough to jab an elbow into his eyes. In a flash, Nabooru grabbed the stumbling soldier's sword and thrust it clear through his stomach, and with a gurgle he slumped down on the roof.

The remaining soldier, back on his feet, charged and swung his sword right at Nabooru's head, but again missed when she ducked under the blade. Over and over he missed hitting her as she dodged each attack and returned with her own. "Hold still, woman, and quit moving around," he growled, muttering curses all the while.

"I think not," Nabooru retorted, bringing her blade down on his sword-wielding hand, sending the sword clattering to the ground along with two fingers. "If you had any skill with the sword, I might have made this an interesting battle before I killed you, but I've seen children who could fight better." In one clean movement, she swept her sword up and slashed it into his face, burying half the blade in his skull. _I can't believe the Gerudo are losing to a bunch of third-rate fighters,_ she thought to herself, freeing her sword and sending the body over the edge of the roof.

Not spending another second to look at the battle below her--she was too afraid to know what was happening--Nabooru headed toward a small ladder at the far end of the roof. As she was about to climb down, the building under her feet erupted and, in a shower of clay and dirt, sent her to the muddy ground three stories below. A loud crack split the air when Nabooru hit the ground, landing first on her right ankle, then on her entire right side. Looking down at her leg, she saw that most of her pant legging, and the skin underneath, was severely burnt.

With all the strength she could gather, Nabooru dug her fingers into the ground and dragged her body a couple inches forward through the mud. She paused a moment to make sure no one noticed her and inched forward some more, slowly making her way along the front of the building until she reached the open doorway. Inside, amid upturned tables and lanterns, Nabooru could see two Gerudo bodies and countless enemy corpses littering the floor, with the many dark shadows hiding the splashes of blood. Painfully, she started making her way inside.

"Nabooru!" a voice cried out of the darkness. Two women emerged from the shadows behind a stack of crates, each carrying a bow and a quiver full of arrows. "What happened to you?" one of them asked, dragging her inside and setting her against the wall. "Bolt the door, will you, Daetrine?" she asked and turned back to Nabooru. "What happened?"

"I don't know," she whispered hoarsely. "the building I was on exploded…just exploded--no bomb or anything--and sent me to the ground. I think my ankle's broken, too."

"This door won't held them for long," Daetrine stated, walking over to the two. "Not if they really want in; all they have to do is pretty much kick it a couple times."

"We don't have any choice," Nabooru cut in, her voice cracking. "If we go out there, the same thing that blew up that building will hit us, too. In here, at least, we can defend ourselves somewhat better." She did not say the fact that, either way, they would more than likely die, but it was plain in the eyes of her comrades. "Help me get to that corner over there." Daetrine and the other--for some reason she could not remember her name--picked her up and all but carried her to the opposite side of the room, well hidden in shadows, and sat her down where she had said. "Do you have any other weapons?"

"Don't we have another bow, Alcine?" Daetrine asked, walking over to a box and routing through all the various weapons inside.

"No, we don't," she answered, slightly peeking her head above the earthen windowsill to peer outside. "It seems like its gotten quieter out there; it could be safe."

"Don't go out," Nabooru ordered raspingly. "Not until you see other Gerudo walking around outside. Alcine, give me your bow; you take one of the swords. I don't know if there are any more of those fighters left, but if they come in here, I need to be able to fight back." Alcine complied, and as she was sorting through the weapons to find a decent sword, a heavy pound sounded from the door. Slowly, she started toward the door and stood to the side with her sword drawn, waiting for someone to burst through. After another two pounds, the door began splintering, and Nabooru situated herself to fire at the doorway easier.

Suddenly, the door shattered in a spray of wood and smoke, and through the haze she could see three people entering into the room. "There they are back there," one of the men said in a deep voice, pointing toward the back of the room. "You get those two, I'll see if this one's still alive." A sinking feeling settled in the bottom of Nabooru's stomach as she heard those words; too many Gerudo had already died today, she did not need another death.

As the two soldiers neared her, she lifted the bow and let the first arrow fly through the nearest one's neck to stick into the wall on the far side of the room. While Nabooru was nocking her next arrow and aiming it at the other figure, something wrapped itself around her waist and effortlessly flung her into the wall, sending her head whirling. Just when she had come back to her senses, it threw her again, only this time against the floor, breaking the bow and her right arm. "That's enough!" the same deep voice shouted at whatever was tossing her around. "Let her go, Selaul; her arm's broken. She can't do anything." With the smoke clearing away, Nabooru could see two people standing in the doorway. One was a massive soldier with a red sun pinned on his breast, the other a handsome woman wearing a black tunic and pants. The soldier approached her and hefted her over his shoulder. "Besides, the last thing we need is your Taint killing her; they're hardly any good any dead. Rising, get the two bodies." The one she had been about to kill walked over from his dead partner to Daetrine, and the last thing Nabooru saw before being carried outside was him peeling away the clothes off her charred body.

The plaza outside the fortress was a much different scene than it had been just a little while before when she had been blown from the building. Carts crowded the streets, some with cages in which many wounded Gerudo lay sleeping or nursing wounds, others holding piles of dead Gerudo bodies, and the rest carrying any treasure or valuable objects. "Open that cage door," the guard carrying Nabooru ordered, approaching a cart with only one other Gerudo inside. After roughly throwing her on the wooden floor, the soldier locked the door shut behind him and walked off to talk to a man throwing a priceless carpet into one of the carts.

"Nabooru, how do you feel?" the other person asked, gently bringing her up to a sitting position and dragging her over to a side of the cage. "You don't look too good." The voice sounded like Neirith's but when Nabooru turned to look at her, she could hardly recognize her face; Neirith had a large cut running from her right temple across her eye all the way to the left side of her jaw and another running across her neck; much of the olive skin on her left arm was black as pitch, with some small wisps of the blackness trailing across her chest and up to her chin.

"What happened to you?" Nabooru rasped out, extending a hand to touch some of the black skin.

"Some of these people can do magic, and wherever the magic touches you, your skin turns black. You see, you have a black streak across your stomach," she answered, tracing a finger across Nabooru's middle. "Can you see okay?"

"Yes. Some things are blurry, though. Usually the ones that are farther away ." As she leaned her head back between two of the bars and tried to swallow some of the saliva building up in her mouth, the cart began its bumpy descent down the mountain pass leading out of the Valley. "Neirith, do you know what they're going to do with us?" Nabooru asked, too afraid to really want to know the answer.

"I don't know for sure," she answered, "but I think I heard a couple of the cart drivers talk about taking some of us to Hyrule Castle and selling the rest in some place called Malchadia." When Neirith's words sank in, it was all Nabooru could do to keep the bile down, but the feeling of sickness in her stomach would not go away. _This can't be happening._ Her resolve broke, and tears freely trickled down her cheek.

"Where are we?" Link asked, brushing aside a couple fern fronds and stepping out onto a small dirt path. As the others began emerging from the forest, Link looked down the trail to the base of a cliff. The cliff must have extended miles into the sky and much farther into the forest, but from what he could see, there was no opening in the rock wall. "Alamatar, I thought you said we were near the Dragons' Nest."

"We are," she said confidently, and started making her way down the path. "You'll see." For almost the next half hour, they walked down that path--which was much longer than it looked--Link all the while scanning the cliff face for any hole he might have missed. But he still did not see any. _I sure hope Alamatar knows what she's doing._ As they were about halfway to the bottom, a loud roar behind them almost sent Link jumping straight into the air. Re-gathering his wits, he turned around to see a large lizard emerge from the forest. "This is _not_ good," Alamatar half-whispered. The lizard, looking directly at Link, flicked its tongue in the air a couple times and began to move towards them. "_Run_!"

The moment the words had left her mouth, Link turned on his heels and bolted down the path as fast as he could. Alamatar and Jesika were far in the lead, gaining more and more ground between themselves and the creature. From the corner of his eye, he saw Belgard fall behind out of view, and when Link turned to look back, Belgard had halted firmly in his tracks and was pointing the tip of his sword at the oncoming monster. _I don't believe this,_ Link thought. _Why does he have to kill everything that wants to kill him?_

Turning around, Link began to run up towards his friend, but also stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of Belgard's sword. Tiny bubbles of every color danced around the blade from hilt to tip, and whenever one touched steel, a design engraved somewhere on the sword would glow briefly. As the lizard tromped ever nearer, Belgard extended his sword all the way out to his left side and swung it with all his might through the air at the beast. A loud thunderclap nearly deafened Link, and everything within about one hundred feet of Belgard's blade split into two; hundreds of trees fell on top of one another and the scaly beast fell to the ground in two halves. Slowly, Belgard turned around and began walking down the path to where the women and Gywan were. The intricate patterns still glowed brightly.

When they joined the others, Link heard Alamatar shout "No!" and watched her slam her staff down on a bulbous rock in the cliff face. "Where is it?" Again, she pounded the same rock three more times before throwing her staff down in frustration. "Belgard, where is the rock that opens the wall?" Her voice sounded strained and her hands gripped her dress so hard her knuckles turned white. "I could have sworn it was this one; the last time we came through here, this was the rock that let us pass. Now it doesn't do anything."

"Well, lass, if it's not that one I don't know which one it is." Belgard approached the wall and tapped it with his sword. After a moment had passed and nothing happened, he tapped it again; when still nothing happened, he began scraping the blade across every rock it would reach. "The Dragons must have changed the key to get in."

"But why would they do that?" Gywan piped in. "From what I've read about the Dragons' Nest, they don't care if people pass through or not; the passage that's here doesn't even go into the real Dragon territory."

"I...wouldn't be too sure of that," Alamatar said somewhat sheepishly. "The last time we passed through, I kind of made a couple new passages." Gywan exploded in laughter, and Alamatar, glowering at him, said almost as an afterthought, "I guess they decided they did not want any more people passing through."

"Yes, lass, you may be right." Belgard began running his hand over every bump and inside every niche on the stone wall, going as high as he could reach and as far as the edges of the forest, but nothing happened. "But we still have to get through. If we can't find an opening…you may have to make one for us."

Alamatar snorted. "Right. The Dragons are already pretty mad at us for the last time. I don't want to give them another reason to hate us. Belgard, you can stop searching; I doubt we'll find anything, anyway. Let's just get down to--"

"Hey, guys," Jesika cut in, "what about this hole? Would this get us in?" Jesika was busy yanking vines away from a small hole near the ground. "I can see through to the other side; there's a floor not far down." Link could hear the pride almost bursting out of her mouth as everyone walked a little ways into the forest to where she was shoveling handfuls of dried leaves out of the tunnel.

__

This is a little too easy, Link thought to himself as he inspected the growing gap that Jesika was creating.

He was not aware that he had spoken that out loud until Alamatar walked right by him and spoke so softly that only he could hear: "I agree with you. But I'll play the Dragons' games if it will get us to Makaeal any faster." She knelt down beside Jesika and helped her dig out the rest of the hole. After a couple of minutes, it was big enough for everyone to fit through, and one by one, they crawled through to the other side, Alamatar coming in last.

The tunnel itself was pitch black, with the only light streaming in from the small hole, and the amount of mold in the air was almost overpowering to Link; the only way to keep out the rancid smell was to cover his nose with one of his gloves and breathe through his mouth. He saw that Jesika had done the same thing. _This humidity doesn't help the smell much, either._ The only time he could remember something smelling that bad was when he had to go into Lord Jabu-Jabu's belly.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Alamatar said through the cloak covering her mouth and taking the lead. "I think we came in near one of the Dragons' bathing grounds. It should smell better in a couple of minutes." As they walked down a maze of corridors, the designs on Belgard's sword started fading away, allowing Link to adjust his eyes to the dimness. The cave was not as dark as he had first thought, though; he could make out millions of glowing dots--glowworms, Alamatar called them--lining the walls and ceiling, casting just enough light for him to see his friends and a small portion of the path in front of him.

For a long time, the only sound Link heard was the echo of dirt crunching beneath his boots and, from what he could tell, an occasional waterfall. But at some point during their walk in the cave--he did not know how long; time seemed suspended by the pressing darkness and silence--Link asked, "Hey, Belgard, what was that that you did back there? To that lizard?"

"You liked that, lad?" Link could hear the smile that must have been painted on Belgard's face. "Just another trick I got from Alamatar. I don't usually use magic--it's fairly cheap, I think, for a swordsman--but sometimes the occasion calls for it. I hear you have a couple tricks like that."

"Hush," Alamatar ordered, stopping beside a tunnel and poking her head into it. Link strained to hear whatever it was Alamatar could hear, but aside from the sound of falling water, he made out nothing. She swore under her breath and pulled back into the main hall, furiously tapping her staff against the ground. "We've been walking around in circles the entire time! But none of the paths ever looped backward; they all went forward." With more grumbling, Alamatar tromped down the side corridor, leaving everyone staring after her.

"Guess we better follow her," Belgard suggested after she had disappeared into the shadows, a hint of humor touching his voice. He quickly led the way into the darkness, trying to stay on Alamatar's heels--and nearly barreled over her as she abruptly stopped in her tracks. Jesika, though, did run into Belgard's back side. "Lass, what…" His voice trailed off as his eyes caught what lay in front of him.

Just inches in front of Alamatar's nose was the largest spider web Link had ever seen. Spanning the entire breadth of the passage, the wrist-thick strands were woven so closely together that a small cat could not get through to the other side. If it were not for the layer of gloss coating the black threads, Link would have never seen them in such dim light. "How are we going to get to the other side?" Jesika asked, peering through a small gap between two strands.

"I don't remember Dragons ever being too friendly toward Spiders," Gywan noted as a medium-sized spider crawled up the web and into a niche in the ceiling. "I thought they killed Spiders whenever possible."

"They do," Alamatar answered, poking the web with her staff and having to wrench it free from the sticky surface. "I don't know why there are Spiders crawling this cave. Surely the Dragons know…" She too peeked through slits in the web to whatever lay in the darkness on the other side. "Belgard, we need to get through; do you think that you could cut the web without it sticking to your blade?"

"I don't think so, lass. The webbing looks pretty thick." Belgard picked up a rock on the ground and hurled it into a black thread. It did not bend at all as it caught the rock; nor did it let go. "I don't think my sword's sharp enough to cut through any of this."

"My sword might be able to cut it," Link chimed in, receiving a semi-doubtful look from Alamatar. He walked up to the web and lightly cut through one of the strands; it gave no resistance to the sharp edge of the blade. But when he tried to pull it back out, the two cut strands latched tightly on to the broadside of the sword and would not loosen their hold. Link thought he heard Alamatar mutter something under her breath, but he did not care, for in a moment Galadhad had collected an orange fog around its blade. With great ease, the swirling cloud of fire cut through the black webbing, each thread hissing and smoking when touched by the extreme heat. Soon, half of the web had been burned away, and Link walked through the hole, letting Galadhad keep its glow to help illuminate more of the passageway. As far back as the light would allow him to see, he could count two more giant webs, each teeming with tiny spiders.

"How many of these things are there?" Alamatar wondered, furrowing her brow in thought. "Don't worry about cutting the rest of the webs, Link; I'll just burn them down." Small flames began sprouting from the surface of the webs, their small glow replacing that of Galadhad's as its energy faded away. They burned completely through each silky thread, cracking its surface with loud pops, and consumed most of the spiders that could not make it to the safety of niches in the wall. "Let's see just what exactly is down this hall." Alamatar pulled her cloak's hood over her head and walked through a small hole cut from a still flaming web. The web farther down the hall she only had to poke with her staff in a couple places to send it crumbling into smoldering embers on the floor.

Again Alamatar took the lead down the passage, although this time not at such a fast pace. Link walked with Jesika and let Belgard and Gywan bring up the rear. A small point of light appeared far down the tunnel and steadily grew larger the closer they walked toward it. Link hoped it would lead to passages not as dark as the ones through which they had already passed; there was something ghastly about these shadows.

As they walked farther, it grew into a large archway that opened up into an immense dome. The walls climbed straight up for hundreds of feet before slowly curving inward to meet at a single point high overhead supported by a great column of rock. A river, fed by a roaring waterfall on the far end of the cavern, washed around its base, sending sprays of mist into the air before disappearing down a dark tunnel. All over the rocky walls and under the water grew small mushrooms, illuminating the entire cave with their blue glow. "Let's follow this river," Alamatar said softly, moving down to the bank of the river and following a small set of footprints into the tunnel.

"Footprints down here?" Belgard whispered thoughtfully, not aware Link had heard. "How did they get in the Nest?" He walked up to Alamatar's side and started a quiet conversation with her. Link took up the rear again, pushing small amounts of sand into the crystalline water and watching the dark forms of fish dart away from the small clouds. Gywan walked to his right, his eyes staring into space, and Jesika stumbled around a couple feet ahead. "Gywan," Belgard started, snapping him out of his reverie, "Alamatar says you are a scholar. Do you know if anything except Dragons live here?"

Gywan remained silent for a short time before answering, "Not that I can remember. I haven't read too much about the Dragons' Nest, but what I have, never mentioned anything living inside except Dragons. These prints look like a human's." As they walked into a portion of the tunnel where a couple mushrooms were growing right on the bank, Gywan bent down to inspect one of the footprints. He traced his index finger along the edge of the impression, wrecking the small barriers of sand that divided up the toes. "These are human prints…"

"Come on," Alamatar urged. Her cloak fluttered through the blue light as she turned around and suddenly disappeared from sight when she started walking out of the weak light's range. "Surely these prints lead somewhere."

"Alamatar," Jesika called somewhere in front of Link. "Is there a reason why there is no light in here?"

"I don't know. I guess the Dragons chose not to put any down here when they built it. Or they want to keep something out of it." The river began to grow louder as its current picked up speed and broke across small rocks jutting above the surface, and tiny mushrooms sprouted from small patches of rocky wall, casting a gentle white light on the sandy path.

They did not walk far before a split came in the tunnel. The river, now roaring past, veered a sharp left into a small tunnel even Jesika could not fit through, sloshing a large amount of water onto the high bank as it curbed in its new direction. Their path kept straight, leading into a more narrow tunnel fully illuminated by the white mushrooms. Beneath their feet, white powder replaced sand, tufts billowing up in the air as they walked past. The tiny motes clung to Link's clothing, everything except his cloak, and within seconds he was coated in a fine layer of dust. Jesika beat at her skirt, cleaning small patches of it off only to have it dirtied again, while Belgard just kept on walking and paid no mind to the large cloud swirling around him.

Abruptly the tunnel ended and Link walked out onto a path leading down to the base of an even larger dome. This time, though, instead of a waterfall and river, a small town lay at the bottom. No more than twenty houses and two larger buildings, a steady stream of people milled about on the streets, talking with passersby or walking into their own home. It was not lit very bright; maybe a candle or two in a window, but nothing else to light up the streets outside for the walking crowd. Despite the distance they were from the town, Link could smell the pleasant aroma of cooking stew and bread as the smoke carried it up toward the top of the cavern.

"That smells really good…" Jesika stated, walking up to stand by Link and look down at the small village. "I don't know what they're cooking, but at least it's not rabbit."

"Alamatar," Belgard's muffled voice called out, "come look at this." Belgard was still standing in the tunnel, inspecting something just on the other side of the opening. Alamatar walked up and hung her head and shoulders through the stone portal. "What does this look like to you?"

For a moment she stayed there, examining Belgard's discovery, and then walked back inside. Link saw her frown at a portion of wall hidden from his view. "What do you have there?" he asked back to them, watching Alamatar poke her head out to stare at the dome's large stone wall.

"This wall is strange; the tunnel wall doesn't meet the archway exactly right." She and Belgard moved out into the large cave and stared up at its rock-studded side, running a hand over everything near the opening. "It's like the wall can open and close….Why would the Dragons need something like this?" She scraped it with a fingernail, breaking some small clumps of dirt free from the wall.

"Maybe for them?" Jesika asked, pointing down to the bustling town.

Alamatar paused as her eyes followed Jesika's finger down to the wooden rooftops. A moment later, the surprise on her face was hidden by a mask of suspicion, and her face darkened slightly as she considered the small town. "This is new…" Her voice, calm and controlled, echoed off the high walls and up to the top of the dome.

"Well, lass, are we going to go down or stay up here all night?" Belgard asked, filling in the silence. He took the first steps heading down the small dirt path, and everyone else filed in behind him, Alamatar taking the rear with her staff clicking methodically against the ground. The glowing mushrooms began sprouting from the dirt, bathing the small trail and nearby rocks in their white light.

Long before they had reached the town, the residents had begun to collect at the end of the pathway, pointing up at them and whispering to those nearby. Some of the younger men frowned with glares as dark as the shadows; some fingered knives tied to their belt. The women crowding the base of the trail sent away their children--who were just as happy running through the streets as watching strangers--and planted themselves in their spot almost as firmly as their husbands. "They don't look very happy to see us," Jesika whispered behind Link, more than likely to Alamatar.

"We'll see about that," she reassured. "They probably aren't used to outsiders. Living in this cave, the only things they would see would be the Dragons."

The moment Belgard set foot on the ground, three men moved in and blocked him from going any farther. Two had their knives drawn. "What is this?" Belgard roared, clenching his sword hilt in a tight fist. Link saw his thumb reach back to release two golden chains clasped to the sword guard, and he bared the smallest sliver of the blade.

"You cannot come through here," the one in the middle said, taller than the other two but still a head shorter than Belgard. A fresh scar puckering his left eye made his glare as cold as his voice. "You must turn around." When Belgard took a step forward, pushing the man back a couple steps, the group of townspeople crowded inward, keeping Belgard from going anywhere but backwards. A few people got their knives or daggers too close to Belgard and suffered harsh blows on their knuckles from his free hand.

"What's going on here?" an old, gravelly voice sounded from the back of the group. "Let us through." A small path formed as the villagers shuffled out of the way, allowing three old men to hobble to the front and stand before Belgard. "Get back. Get back!" He shooed the ring of townspeople back a couple feet with an ornate staff carved in the shape of a dragon. "Now, someone explain to me what is going on."

"Magistrates," the man with the puckered eye began, "we were just going to send these people away. We--"

"Hush," the second old man commanded. "That's nonsense; these people have traveled a long way through the Nest to get here. We will not turn them away."

"But the Lord Dragon said--"

"The Lord Dragon is not here anymore," the third magistrate interrupted. "Neither are any of the others. We must make do ourselves." The man gave an ugly scowl and sheathed his knife. All three magistrates, turning to Belgard and looking behind him at the rest of Link's group, smiled at them, and the first one said, "I am the Magistrate The'vre. Welcome to Darkon Shtrea."

A/N: Well, this is the fourth installment of Puppet. Sure took a while to do--sorry about that. Hopefully next time I won't be so late. I know there is still some stuff to edit and revise, but I wanted to get this finished and posted; when I've finished my story, I'll reedit everything. Until next time…


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