Nabooru paced nervously, back and forth along the expanse of the plateau, her long, plum cloak swirling around her feet as she turned.  It was dark out, all except for the orange glow emanating from a nearby crater which led to a lava flow.  She rather resented being kept waiting in general, but it was even worse in the dark.  Normally, she would not have obeyed such an abrupt summons, calling for her to appear alone, without her armed escort, in the dead of night, but for once she was forced to comply.  It wasn’t that she was meeting with someone more important or powerful than she, no it was her own conscience that forced her to come to this wretched plane in the middle of the night.

            The day had been one of the worst she could remember in the history of the Gerudo.  All day long, reports came in of men and women from the Hylian villages calling out for the death of all Gerudo everywhere.  A few of the bolder individuals went so far as to approach the Gerudo Valley, armed with rudimentary weapons, pitch forks, and torches, ready to take on the entire Gerudo nation alone.  Nabooru admired such gall, but at the same time, she resented the accusations against her people.  After all, it had not been the Dragon Pride, her Pride, which had committed the atrocities in Kasuto.

            Yes, the day had been filled with reports about that too.  Nabooru was told of the ashes where once a proud village stood, of the mountain piles of the dead, their faces burned and scarred beyond recognition.  Immediately, she knew of course that this had to be the work of the Kodiak Pride.  If any Gerudo Pride had the nerve to attack a village of mere farmers, it would be the Kodiak.  For years, rumors had flown carelessly that a boy had been born into their ranks.  Now it seemed the stories were true.  No less than a dozen survivors of Kasuto had reported the presence of a man amidst the Gerudo raiding party.

            Nabooru shivered involuntarily, despite the heat coming from the crater.  She did not like to think of what this meant for the future of the Gerudo Valley.  For years, the Prides had been able to coexist in an uneasy peace, but having a man in their ranks would change things.  Men brought with them ambition and greed.  Nabooru did not particularly fancy the idea of another Gerudo civil war.  Not after everything her people had managed to survive.

            Off in the distance, below Nabooru’s plateau, she spotted a horse making a fast approach for her.  For a moment, she felt her hands drift to the twin blades resting on either side of her hips, but she quickly decided against it.  There had already been enough trouble between the inhabitants of the Gerudo Valley and the villagers of Hyrule.  She would not be the one to cause more.  She was pleased to see, at the very least, that the figure on horseback seemed to be traveling alone.  Then again, the Sheikah had always been known to keep their promises.

            Relaxing slightly, Nabooru allowed herself to wonder why Impa, the royal nursemaid and one of the most powerful Sheikah in the realm had summoned her of all people.  Of course, Impa must have known that Nabooru’s Pride was not responsible for the attack.  The Dragons were many things, great thieves, powerful seductresses, and yes, fantastic archers, but they certainly were not arsonists, nor did they have any interest in the destruction of Kasuto.

            Nabooru felt a knot form in her stomach as she thought of the mindless violence again.  It wasn’t that she had any love for the Hylians, but life was life and she couldn’t fathom ever ordering her warriors to fight unprovoked.  Then again, she supposed wearily, if the rumors were true and the Kodiak had a man in their ranks, war might be inevitable.  Still, she would not make the first move.  She would wait.

            By now, the horse was climbing steadily up the slope of the plateau, its powerful legs propelling it forward and muscles clenched and unclenched.  Nabooru admired the beast a moment before turning to regard the rider.  There was Impa, the proud warrior Nabooru had come to respect many years ago when the two of them first met.  Back then, Nabooru had been far more ambitious, organizing a heist on the castle treasury itself.  This had been the only time Nabooru had ever been caught, and it was by the great Sheikah warrior.  Their battle had been fierce, finally ending only when Nabooru’s girls came to her rescue.  She so admired Impa for holding her own, she had allowed the woman to be spared and left the castle without incident.

            Over the years, Nabooru had heard great things about her favored opponent, but she had been shocked to receive a letter from her that morning, requesting a solitary meeting in between their respective territories.  Even after all that time since their encounter, Nabooru was still impressed by Impa’s stature and poise.

            Riding in front of her, hugging the neck of the mare, was a Hylian girl, no more than three.  She stared at the Gerudo matron as the horse approached, her blue eyes wide in apprehension.  This was an unexpected detail.  Nabooru found herself amazed, as she examined the frail girl, that Hylian women were capable of surviving the hazards of life.  Certainly a Gerudo would never be so fair and so brittle.

            The horse came to a stop with an impressive little bow, snorting at Nabooru as it flung its snout to one side.  Impa dismounted easily, then turned, taking the girl by the waist and lowering her to the ground.  She trembled horribly, hiding behind Impa’s legs.  Impa stood there, patting her horse’s rump and making it perfectly clear that Nabooru was to approach.  So be it.

            “I have done as you asked,” Nabooru said, strolling over.  As an afterthought, she drew her twin blades, crossing them in front of her as a salutation.

            “You came alone?” Impa asked, eyeing the blades warily.

            “Yes.”

            “Good.”

            She waited a moment before returning the swords to her belt.  “What’s this all about?”

            Impa continued absently stroking the horse, but her full gaze was turned on Nabooru now.  “I trust you’ve heard about the raid on Kasuto?”

            “I have,” Nabooru replied icily.  “And I’ll have you know that the Dragon Pride had absolutely –”

            “Nothing to do with it?” Impa interrupted.  A tense moment of silence followed.  “I know.”

            “So what’s this about then?”

            “Do you know why the Kodiak Pride burned Kasuto to the ground?”

            Nabooru shook her head.  “The Dragon relations with the Kodiak are tenuous at best.  Alpha Sarjenka has –”

            “Stepped down,” Impa cut her off.

            She couldn’t help it.  Nabooru’s eyes widened like those of the little girl hiding behind Impa.  “What?”

            “The Kodiak have a male Alpha now.  He’s called Ganondorf Dragmire.  He led the raid last night.”

            “So it’s true.  They have a man born into their number.”

            Impa nodded gravely.  “And last night’s attack was not for treasure or slaves.  It was mere destruction.”

            “Why would they do that?” Nabooru asked.

            “They were after a child,” Impa said.

            “A child?”  Nabooru’s eyes drifted to the little girl.  “This one?”

            “No,” Impa said quickly.

            “Who?”

            “Her younger brother, we suspect.”

            “Why?  What’s so special about him?”

            The Sheikah woman sighed.  “We don’t really know.  If I had to guess, I suppose I’d guess some sort of cryptic prophecy drove them to destroy the children of the town.”

            “Prophecy?”

            Impa shrugged.  “They’re your people.”

            Nabooru shook her head.  “They are not my people.  The Kodiak are a race unto themselves, whether they call themselves Gerudo or not.  They have no honor.”

            “I will certainly agree with that.  They killed the girl’s mother.”

            “I see,” Nabooru said.  She had to admit, she admired the fact that Impa wasn’t coddling the child.  “And her brother?”

            “He’s safe,” Impa replied.  “My sources inform me that he’s with the Kokiri.  I’m content to let him stay there for now.  If there is a prophecy, it’s best if he’s left to his own devices to fulfill it.”

            “And the girl?”

            “I’ve brought her to you with a request.”

            Nabooru’s eyebrows rose sharply.  “What?”

            “She needs to be kept safe.  Secreted away so she’s not a liability to him.”

            “What does that have to do with me?” Nabooru asked.

            “The Gerudo destroyed her home.  Killed her mother.  Presumably killed her brother as far as we’re concerned.  It would be the last place anyone would think to check for her.”

            “True,” Nabooru admitted slowly.

            “And,” Impa said, “it would certainly separate you from the Kodiak if you had it in your heart to take care of this girl.”

            A fierce smile tugged at the corners of Nabooru’s lips.  Her admiration for Impa only grew at this sly wordplay.  She knew only too well that Nabooru wanted to disassociate herself from the carnage of the Kodiak.  “I’m friendly with the Alpha of the Orca Pride,” Nabooru said.  “They live in isolation, more so than any other Pride.  I’m sure I could arrange for the girl to be delivered to them.”

            “Why the Orca?  Why not the Dragon Pride?”

            “I fear civil war may be at hand for the Gerudo.  If so, the Orca Pride will be the last to get involved.  They live on undesirable territory and they’re on friendlier terms with the Kodiak than the other Prides.”

            Impa seemed to find this acceptable.  “Fair enough.”

            Nabooru knelt down, coming to eye level with the girl.  “Hello,” she said.  The girl hid behind Impa as far as possible.  Nabooru laughed.  “Come now.  If you’re going to be a great Gerudo warrior, we can’t have you hiding.  Come forward and face me.”

            The girl looked up at Impa for guidance.  “Go on,” Impa told her gently, stepping away.

            Left with no choice, the little girl moved toward Nabooru, her lower lip trembling though she did not cry.  “That’s better,” Nabooru said gently.  “Let me see your arm.  Can you make a muscle for me?”  Feebly, the girl flexed her arm.  Nabooru reached out and squeezed her bicep gently.  “Yes, you’ll make a fine warrior.”  She was about to withdraw when she noticed something: An intricate array of blue lines on the girl’s wrist.  Nabooru brushed her thumb against the lines and felt nothing but flesh.  Whatever the lines were, they were tattooed underneath the skin.  “What’s this?” she asked.

            Impa knelt down, taking the girl’s arm and carefully examining the strange lines.  “Looks like half of a Hylian glyph,” she mumbled.  She looked at the girl.  “Can you tell me what this is?”

            “M-my momma put them on me and my b-brother,” she said in a faint, girlish voice.

            “Why did she do that?” Nabooru asked.

            “So we c-could find each other again,” the child whispered.

 

            It was a bright and sunny day.  Glorious really; warm, but with a gentle breeze that kept the village from completely baking.  Link leaned against the fence post outside of the Lon Lon Ranch, lifting his face to greet the morning sun.  The wind kissed his cheeks and smiled.  Days like this always reminded him of how much he loved Hyrule.  With his eyes closed, he listened to the peaceful sound of the world that he himself had saved not too long ago.  In the field beyond the ranch, he could hear school children playing, laughing and shrieking as they chased after a leather ball, throwing it back and forth.

            Perhaps it was trite, and he would certainly never share this with another living soul, lest he be laughed out the door, but sounds like that always made Link feel as if he had really accomplished something with his life.  His whole ordeal with Ganondorf had left a bitter taste in his mouth that Link had never quite been able to shake.  No one knew about the nightmares that haunted him still, though nearly a year had passed since that final, epic battle.  Most of the time, when people asked him to recount the events as they had happened, he would feign a certain measure of memory loss, owing it to the adrenaline of the moment.  The reality, however, was that he remembered everything perfectly and rather wished he could forget.  After all, he had killed.  And nearly been killed himself.

He opened his eyes, hoping to evade the phantom shadows that loomed on the back of his eyelids, and looked to the corn fields arrayed before him.  The stalks were high, bright green – his favorite color – with little hidden specks of yellow just beginning to appear.  His mouth watered as he imagined sinking his teeth into the tender kernels, dripping with butter and just a hint of salt.  Suddenly, he found himself hoping that Talon would invite him to stay for dinner tonight.  Thoughts of his heroic escapades soon faded with hunger at the thought of a home cooked meal at the ranch.

            Although he visited the ranch often enough, usually to idle away the time with Malon and the horses, this was the first time he had ever been summoned.  Perhaps that was too strong a word.  He hadn’t been summoned the way that Zelda sometimes called him to court.  But there had always been an unspoken rule that Link was always welcome at the ranch without invitation.  That was why it had come as such a surprise when he received one.

            He had been spending a pleasant afternoon fishing with a friend of his, a Human from one of the local schools, when suddenly Malon appeared, flustered and pink.  Breathlessly, she told him that Talon wanted to see him as soon as possible and disappeared, teetering under the weight of the milk pails, balanced meticulously over her shoulders.

            Link was quick to obey the summons, immediately concerned.  When he arrived at the ranch, however, he found it completely deserted, the door locked.  Maybe he hadn’t been expected to arrive so quickly.  With a shrug, he resigned himself to lean against the fence post near the road and wait, enjoying the splendors of a perfect summer day in Hyrule.

            Before long, Link spotted Talon ambling up the road.  He was much relieved to see that his friend looked in no way injured or ill.  At least that concern could be steadied.  But now, his mind wondered at what could possibly be wrong.  Frowning, he plopped his cap back on top of his head and pulled on his gauntlets, covering the ugly blue lines that had been tattooed under his skin long ago by a mother he never knew.  Pushing away from the fence, he moved down the road to meet Talon.

            Talon spotted him at once and raised his hand in salutation.  “Link,” he called.  His normally cheerful voice seemed a bit strained.

            “Hello, Talon,” Link replied.

            “How long have you been waiting there?”

            Link shrugged.  “Only a few minutes,” he lied.

            “I’m sorry.  I didn’t expect you so soon.”

            “That’s all right.”

            “Glad you could stop by.”

            “Of course,” Link said.

            Talon clapped him on the back with a pudgy hand.  “Good, good.”  He frowned, licking his lips.  “Malon tells me you’ve been enjoying your retirement.”

            “It’s nice not having to chase after monsters any more,” Link admitted.  “Although I’m not sure what I’m going to do with myself come winter.”

            “You don’t miss the excitement?”

            Link shook his head.  “No, not really.”

            “Oh.”

            He glanced sideways at Talon.  The older man seemed a bit distracted, wringing his hands and watched them as if somehow his stubby fingers were about to perform the miraculous.  “Talon?”

            “Yes?”

            “What’s wrong?  What’s going on?”

            Talon sighed.  He leaned against the fence, running his palm along the rough wood.  He had built that fence himself, Link knew.  With his own two hands.  He took such pride in it.  No one had ever dared to climb over it to cause mischief in the dead of night.  “You know,” he started slowly, “I had a brother named Elwood.”

            Link scowled.  “No, I didn’t know that.”

            “He died a few months back.  Pneumonia.”

            “I’m so sorry,” Link said uncertainly.

            “It happens, unfortunately,” Talon mumbled nervously.

            “I suppose so.”

            “He lived a full, long life.  Older brother.”

            “I see.”  Link folded his arms.  Where was this going?

            “He had a boy, about your age.”

            “Oh?”

            “My nephew, Tyro.”  Talon shook his head with a nervous laugh.  “Impetuous boy.  Always getting into trouble in town.  A real ladies man, they say.  Rather like yourself.”

            “Well, I wouldn’t call myself –”

            “He’s a good kid though.  Also like you.  Tyro’s smart.  Sharp as a whip.  Probably got that from his mother.”

            “Right.”

            A heavy moment of silence fell.  “You know, I’m the only family he’s got now,” Talon said.  “His parents are gone.  He hasn’t got any brothers or sisters.  Only me and Malon now.”

            As Link examined Talon, he detected a hint of something new in the older man’s blue eyes.  He looked afraid, and not in the way he did when Malon stayed out too late or when Ingo caused trouble.  This was a real fear.  Mortal?  “Talon, what’s going on?” he asked gently.

            “A few weeks back,” Talon said slowly, “Tyro disappeared.”

            “Disappeared?”

            Absently, Talon waved his hand.  “He just…disappeared.  Not literally, of course.  Not like a teleportation.”

            “He left and no one’s seen him?”

            “It might be.”

            “And you have no idea where he went?”

            “Well, that’s the thing of it,” Talon replied.

            “What?”

            “Before he disappeared completely, there were some witnesses who saw him leaving town.”

            “That means he left of his own free will, doesn’t it?”  Link shrugged.  “I’m sure he’s fine.”

            “They say he was heading in the direction of the Gerudo Valley.”

            Immediately, Link deflated.  “Oh,” he said softly.

            “I don’t know what insanity could have driven him to go there,” Talon muttered, looking out at the crops.

            “Well, you said he liked girls…”

            “He’s not that stupid,” Talon said, shaking his head.

            “You’re really worried about him?”

            “Someone has to be.  I’m the only family he’s got left.  He’s been like a son to me, Link.  If something happened to him, I don’t know what I’d do.  Only…”

            “Only?” Link prompted him.

            Talon sighed.  “I can’t go after him.  I’m old and slow and have crops to harvest and cows to care for.”

            And suddenly, like a flash of lightning, Link understood exactly why Talon had called on him.  “You want me to go after him?”

            “Link, I…”

            But Link knew it was true.  It took all of his considerable strength not to scowl.  The last thing he ever wanted to do was return to the Gerudo Valley.  Even thinking about the Gerudo left him with a sour belly.  They had caused so much heartache for him.  Well, not all of them, but certainly a particularly nasty Gerudo warlord who kidnapped his friends and tortured them for seven years while he was unable to do anything about it.  He looked forward to the rest of his life being positively Gerudo free.  They would always be there, a constant reminder of the things he had done.  They had been for the greater good, but they still haunted him. 

He wanted desperately to say no, to tell Talon that he was worrying too much, but as he looked at Talon, he saw that fear again, the desperation.  How could he refuse?  “Talon,” he said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.

            “I know it’s a lot to ask,” Talon said.  “You’ve done your share for Hyrule.  You’ve rescued our people.  And I know you deserve to spend the rest of your days in relative ease.  You earned your retirement.”

            “But you’re asking.”

            Talon nodded.  “I’m asking.”

            Link couldn’t help but feel a swell of respect for Talon.  “I’ll go,” he promised.

            “You will?”

            “It’s the least I can do for you.  You’ve been so good to me.  You and Malon.  Treating me like one of your own.”

            “Farore bless you for this, Link.”  He squeezed Link’s hand with both of his.  “Thank you.”

            Link nodded, forcing a smile.  Inside, his stomach was twisting and turning.  He really didn’t fancy returning to the Valley.  He only hoped that he’d still have a few friends to call on.  There was no way he would be able to do this on his own.  Hero that he was, there were certain demons he had never been able to slay, the ones nestled securely in his memory.

 

            The breeze became a wind.  The wind became a gale.  The gale flew across Hyrule, knocking over dust bins and sails.  It brushed the entire kingdom before finally swirling over the sands of the Gerudo Valley.  The sands rose, forming a funnel that spun faster and faster, uncovering the floor hidden below.  The building was gone now, destroyed by the Dragons, but the floor lingered on, covered with sand until the breeze revealed the rich, red tones of the marble to the nighttime sky.

            As the sand of the funnel flew off into the darkness, light rose from the ruins as two sets of glyphs began to glow, the first bright yellow, the second icy blue.  The stone rippled like as a haggard form rose from the depths of the yellow light.  She stared, unblinking at the blue until a second form emerged, equally worn and sagging.  Her sister stared at the desert around them, once hidden from view by dark red walls, engraved with their four hundred year history.

            “Kotake?” she asked, the blue light slowly fading from her face to reveal the gray, puckered skin.  “What’s happened?  Where are the walls?  The rest of the castle?  Why are we like this?”

            For a moment, Kotake was silent, Koume’s questions echoing in her ears.  It was as if a haze had settled over her mind.  The harder she concentrated, the more she was able to focus on a single thought.  Revenge.  “The boy,” she said slowly, feeling the singular thought pulse in her brain.

            “The boy?” Koume repeated, clearly just as confused.

            “What do you remember?” Kotake asked quickly.

            “I remember…” she paused, her mouth hanging open.

            “There was a battle,” Kotake said.

            “Yes!  Yes, a battle, I remember.”

            “The boy was trying to…”

            “To stop Ganondorf,” Koume supplied.

            “Yes.”

            “We fought him.”

            Kotake nodded.  “He was braver than we expected.”

            “And then…?”

            “And then.”

            Koume scowled.  “We died?”

            At once, Kotake knew this was true and nodded slightly, unable to suppress a shiver.  “He defeated us.”

            “Does that mean…”  Koume trailed off.  “Oh sister, does that mean he’s defeated Ganondorf?”

            Instead of answering, Kotake turned, looking away into the distance where she knew Hyrule stood.  Even this far away, her superior eyes could make out the faint silhouette of North Castle.  “I fear it is so,” she said.

            They were silent for a moment, feeling the heaviness of this loss.  “But,” Koume blurted out abruptly, startling her sister.

            “What?” Kotake snapped.

            “If he’s dead, how come we’re here?”

            She frowned.  “You’re right.”

            “He’s the one who would bring us back, isn’t he?”

            “He would.”

            “So?”

            Kotake ran her gnarled fingers through the withering remains of her hair.  “We swore revenge.”

            “Yes, I remember.”

            “That is our purpose here.”

            “Din has granted us the chance to seek it against the boy?”

            “Do you really think so?”

            Koume wrinkled her already worn out face.  “No.”

            “Perhaps it was the Kodiak.  They have always served us well.”

            “The Kodiak brought us back?”

            “That’s my guess.”

            “Why would they do that?”

            “I can think of only one reason, sister.”

            “What?”

            “They want us to restore Ganondorf,” Kotake said.

            Koume cleaned some sand out of her ear with her little finger.  “Why would they want that?”

            “Well, he brought their Pride greater glory than it deserved.”

            “Honorless wretches.  In our time, no Gerudo would have dreamed of advancing in rank by –”

            “Our time is over, sister,” Kotake cut her off.  “We have a singular purpose now.  To bring him back.”

            “But how can we do that?” Koume asked.

            “There are ways.  Ancient ways that the Kodiak do not know.”

            “I hope you’re not suggesting a resurrection.  Those never work!”

            “No.  If we want Ganondorf Dragmire to be as he once was, he will need to be created as he once was.”

            “Born again?”

            Kotake nodded.  “Born of flesh and blood.”

            “But we can’t do that!” Koume insisted.  “Not precisely.  Not the way we arranged for his birth the first time.”

            “Fear not, sister.  We have something we didn’t have the first time.”

            “What’s that?”

            “The one who defeated him.”

            “The boy?”

            “Yes,” Kotake hissed.  “The boy who killed him will be cause of his return.”

            “But how?”

            “The Topaz.”

            Koume grew unnaturally silent, staring at her sister.  Kotake could feel the question burning in her sister’s belly and waited patiently, giving her time to process it.  “Surely we can kill him another way,” she finally said.

            “We can kill him many ways,” Kotake said.  “But we must use his death to our advantage.”

            “But how will killing him with the Topaz restore Ganondorf?”

            Kotake smiled.  Her memory had always been far superior to Koume’s.  “Ganondorf shall be reborn when a Gerudo with child by an Alpha’s son kills the enemy in a painless death,” she said patiently.  “We created the prophecy ourselves, don’t you remember?  We needed a failsafe.”

            “So if a Gerudo with child by an Alpha’s son kills Link with the Topaz, her child will be Ganondorf reborn?”

            “Do you remember?”

            Furrowing her brow, Koume was silent.  “Yes.”

            “Good.”

            “But why would we make such an absurd set of circumstances?” she asked impatiently.

            “What?”

            “An Alpha’s son?  That’s not possible.  A son is only born to the Gerudo every hundred years.  And how many Alphas are there in comparison to the rest of the Gerudo population?”

            “We’ll worry about that later,” Kotake said, waving her hand. 

            “It could be thousands of years before an Alpha births a son,” Koume insisted.

“Our first priority will be reassembling the Topaz,” Kotake snapped, her eyes blazing red with fire.

            “All right,” Koume grumbled meekly.  “But Kotake…”

            “What?”

            “Well…”  She shifted, her ancient joints creaking.  “We’re old.  We haven’t the power…”

            “I know.”

            “We can’t stay hidden for long.  What happens if the boy finds out that we’re alive again?”

            “Then I suppose it won’t be long before he realizes what we’re doing,” Kotake admitted.

            “What should we do?”

            “We’ll have to employ some help.”

            “Help?”

            “Someone to assemble the Topaz for us while the boy is chasing after us.  Someone to do our bidding while we restore our power.”

            Koume nodded.  “I understand.  But where are we going to find help?”

            “I have an idea,” Kotake said.  She held out her hand and with a flash of fire, her broom appeared.  She held it over the ground a moment then let go, the wood hovering of its own free will.  Mounting the broom, she turned impatiently to her sister.  “Come on,” she barked.

            “Yes, yes, yes,” Koume mumbled.  “I’m coming.”  An instant later, with the crackle of ice, Koume’s broom appeared to perform the same trick.  Once Koume was mounted, the sisters took off together, shooting straight up into the shy with sparks of fire and ice trailing behind them.  They crisscrossed each other, then leveled off, soaring away, deeper into the heart of the Gerudo Valley.

 

            “Oh, come on, please?” Link pled, standing under the shade of a Gerudo cabana that cast purple light down as the sunlight hit the delicate fabric.  He watched as two Gerudo women battled before him.

            “I don’t know, Link,” said the taller of the two.  She was Nebekah, the first Beta of the Jaguar Pride.  At the moment, she stood on a log, stretched out over a pit, holding a pair of long chobos in her hands.  Standing on another log, facing her, was a young warrior that Link did not know.  She was gripping her sticks tightly, taking wide swings at Nebekah, who easily dodged each attack by merely swiveling her hips.

            “I need your help,” Link told her.  He had already explained Talon’s situation to her twice, but Nebekah was reluctant to have anything to do with the matter.

            “Things still aren’t very stable around here,” Nebekah said, taking a step backward onto another log, over the pit.  Her sparring partner stepped forward, taking another swing at Nebekah and missing by a mile.  She easily dodged, her long, blood red dreadlocks bouncing behind her like a thousand snakes, thrown suddenly into the air.  Swiftly, she crossed the chobos in front of her chest and sliced them up through the air, catching the other woman’s sticks in the V.  She thrust her arms up and her partner was unable to maintain her balance any longer.  With a help, she fell off the log and into the pit below.  Dust rose up into the air.

            “Since when are you so timid?” Link scoffed, folding his arms.  “That’s hardly befitting of a Gerudo.”

            “Listen to you.  You’re made an honorary member of the Dragon Pride and suddenly you know what it means to be Gerudo?”

            “Hey, has there every been an honorary male Gerudo before?” he asked, knowing full well that he was the first.

            Nebekah leaned over, extending an arm into the pit.  The other girl grabbed Nebekah’s wrist, allowing herself to be heaved back to ground level.  She perched on the edge of the pit, covered in dark black soot.  During more serious battles, the pit was said to be filled with fire and the loser was promised an almost certain demise.  “Keep working on your form, Sandya,” Nebekah said.

            “Yes, Beta,” Sandya said meekly, bowing her head.

            Smiling, Nebekah clapped her on the shoulder.  “You’re doing very well,” she told her gently.

            “Thank you, Beta.”

            “Go run along and clean up.”

            Sandya nodded and scampered away.  Nebekah brushed the soot off of her hand, absently sprinkling a bit onto her loose fitting, silk pants.  “Come with me, Nebekah,” Link begged, walking out from under the comfort of the shade and into the harsh sunlight.

            “I don’t’ know, Link,” she said.

            “I’m sure the Alpha will give you permission,” Link said.  “She likes me a lot, you know.”

            “All the Jaguars like you,” Nebekah pointed out.  “You killed Ganondorf Dragmire.”

            “Exactly,” Link said, feeling a tense knot form in his throat for a moment.  He swallowed it down.  “I think you owe me one.”

            Nebekah smiled.  Like most Gerudos, she was singularly attractive, but her natural beauty only radiated when she afforded someone a rare smile.  “We owe you one, do we?”

            “Well…yes.”

            “Because you wouldn’t have killed him if you didn’t think you could get a favor from the Jaguar Pride?”

            “Well…”

            “Nice try, blondie.”

            “I can’t do this without you, Nebekah.”

            “Why not?”

            “I don’t know where to begin.  I have no idea where a man would disappear to in the Gerudo Valley.”

            She sighed.  “He’s probably dead.”

            “I’d rather find him alive.”

            “He’s been gone how long?”

            “A few months, I think.”

            Nebekah twirled a dreadlock in her fingers.  “Well, if he’s still alive, he’s probably with the Orca.”

            “The Orca?”

            “They’re the only Pride that takes male prisoners.”

            “Will you show me where they are?”

            “I don’t know, Link…”

            Link glanced around.  He spotted Sandya’s chobos sticks, resting beside the fire pit.  At once, he crossed over to them, picking them up.  With great care, he stepped up onto one of the numerous logs stretched out over the soot.  “I beat you, you help me track down Tyro.”

            “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Nebekah said.

            “No joke.”

            “Link, have you ever attempted the fire pit before?”

            “No,” he admitted.  “But I learn quickly.”

            “You’re being ridiculous.”

            “Come on.  Fight me.  A fair match.  If you beat me, I’ll go away and I won’t bother you any more.”

            Rolling her eyes, Nebekah carefully stepped back out onto another log.  “All right,” she said.  At once, Link took a very precise swing at her left flank.  Nebekah just barely managed to block the blow.  “I thought you said you’d never done this before,” she cried.

            “I haven’t,” Link replied.

            “Not bad,” she muttered.  With that, she took two identical swings, aiming for either side of Link’s knees. 

He shot his sticks out, blocking the blows.  “Beginners luck,” he said, a fierce grin on his face.

She swung her right stick at his head, but Link managed to duck.  “You’d make a fair dueler.”

“Tell me something though,” he said, retaliating with a jab.

Nebekah parried it.  “What?”

“Do you really have duels to the death over fire?”

“No,” she admitted, thrusting to his right shoulder.

Link blocked it.  “I didn’t think so.”

“Of all the Gerudo Prides, I’d say that the Jaguar have become the most peaceful.  Otherwise, do you really think we would have let you just waltz into camp?”

“Well, if you’re so peaceful, why do you keep teaching the girls this barbaric ritual fighting?”  Link swung both of his chobos in opposite directions, aiming for her head.

Skillfully, she ducked under the attack.  “Because we’re peaceful, not weak.  Ready to fight at a moment’s notice if necessary.”  She snarled angrily.  “And we haven’t forgotten about that little coup attempted by the Kodiak last year.  I lost my mother in that fight.”

Sensing dangerous territory, Link avoided the sudden, passionate outburst.  “If you’re so ready to fight, why won’t you come with me to the Orca?”

“Because,” she said, choking up her hold on one of the sticks, “I don’t like crossing the Valley.  And your friend’s nephew is probably dead.”

“Maybe,” Link admitted.  “But I need to look.”

“You’re a good friend, Link.”

“I know.”

Nebekah attempted to ram one of her sticks into his middle, but Link caught it with both of his sticks crossed, in the V just as she had earlier caught Sandya.  “But just waltzing into the territory of the Orca isn’t an option.”

“Which is why I don’t want to do it,” he said.  “Alone!”  With a grunt, he pushed back on her attacking arm, sending her shoulder back and throwing her off balance.  She stepped back, trying to gain her footing on another log, but Link used that moment to knock a stick into her knee.  Nebekah slipped, falling in between the logs and onto the soot.  Link leaned over to look at her and only too late realized his error, as a cloud of dust blew into his face.  Still, he coughed and smiled triumphantly.  “I win.”

“You cheated,” she replied.

“How?”

But of course, he hadn’t and Nebekah knew that perfectly well.  “Help me out of here.”

“You’ll go with me to find the Orca?” he asked.

“Yes,” she sighed.  “I’ll go with you.”

“Great.”  Link offered her a hand.  Immediately, Nebekah took it and pulled hard, sending him face first down into the black dirt.  “Gah!” he exclaimed, spitting soot out of his mouth.

“Oh, come on,” Nebekah laughed mercilessly.  “How could you not see that one coming?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” he said with a pout.  Secretly, his heart lightened a bit.  He was grateful to have Nebekah agree to come with him on the journey.  She had been a good friend to him since he first ventured into Gerudo territory when they were both children.  Even back then, she had always been surprisingly playful for a Gerudo.  Her smile always comforted him and assured him that even in the direst of situations, there would be hope.  She would help him now.  With any luck, she would be able to keep the demons at bay.

 

The target was shaped like a man.  Naturally.  They were best when they served as targets, unfortunately, the Alpha wouldn’t permit her warriors in training to use an actual man for practice.  She considered it unseemly.  As a measure of tracking progress, each young warrior was given a quiver with arrows of a specific color.  It allowed the elders to determine whose aim was best and whose still needed improvement during training sessions.  This afternoon was not a training session, but still, the target was covered in blue arrows, most of them centered around the chest.  Not a single green arrow had managed to hit the dummy.

Mika watched her companion Alcia as she struggled to nock another green arrow into the bow.  So far, she had managed to break three brow strings, but had not yet succeeded in firing an arrow more than three yards.  Mika herself had run out of arrows some time ago and now stood, offering her friend encouragement.  It was still hopeless.  Alcia was terrible.

“Oh,” she moaned as yet another arrow curved down in its fight, hitting the ground.  “I’m a lost cause.”

“Don’t say that,” Mika told her, brushing her hair away from her shoulders.  Mika wore it wrapped tightly in blue threads, in part to keep it out of her face and in part to make certain that everyone knew the blue arrows belonged to her.  She had the best aim in the entire camp.

“It’s true,” Alcia said with a pout.

“You just haven’t gotten the hang of it yet,” Mika responded.  “You’ll get it.  Just keep practicing.”

“I’m always practicing,” Alcia grumbled. 

“I know,” Mika told her, trying to sound encouraging.

“I’m just not improving.”  Alcia set down her bow, letting the quiver with its remaining green arrows spill out.  She sank to the ground, hanging her head so that her light blond hair fell over her face.

Mika couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s strange impersonation of a weeping willow.  “Come now, Alcia,” she said, squatting down in front of her.

“Just leave me alone.”

Mika brushed back Alcia’s hair, attempting to catch her eye.  “It’s not all bad.  Besides, the initiation doesn’t involve using bows anyway.”

“No,” Alcia said sulkily.  “It involves the sword.  And I’m worse with that than I am with bows!”

“You just have to –”

“Keep practicing,” Alcia finished for her.

“Yeah.”

“I know.”  She brushed her hair out of her face.  “It’s just that…”

“What?”

Alcia sighed.  “Sometimes, I feel like I’m not meant for this.”

“What?”

“Not meant to be a Gerudo warrior.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mika told her sternly.

“I’m not being ridiculous,” she insisted.

“Of course you’re meant to be a Gerudo warrior.  Just like me.  The two of us are going to lead this Pride someday.”

She scoffed.  “No, you’ll lead the Pride.  You do everything so much better than I do.”

“That’s not true,” Mika insisted.

“The only thing I was ever any good at was cooking.”  She shook her head.  “I’ll never be a real Gerudo.”

“Alcia…”

“It’s true!”

“Alcia, just because you weren’t born a Gerudo doesn’t mean you can’t become one.  This has been your home.  Medea has been your mother.  That’s a bond deeper than blood.”  She clutched her friend’s hand.  “You were a Gerudo the minute you came to the camp.  No one cares if you’re a Thin Blood.”

“I guess so.”

“You know so.”

“Right.”

“Say it!”

“I am a Gerudo,” Alcia said glumly.

“That’s right.”  Mika smiled tightly.  “Besides, the Gerudo need to eat.”

Alcia smiled a bit at this.  “I guess so.”

“Come on, let’s try again.  I know you can do it.”

As Mika pulled Alcia up to her feet, they both heard the sound of footsteps approaching.  Of course, they had no real need to fear.  The camp was so isolated it had, quite literally, never been attacked by outside forces.  Still, as young trainees, both of them had been instilled with sharp senses that immediately put them on edge at the sound of someone approaching.  Instantly, two pairs of blue eyes snapped in the direction of the sound.  For a breathless moment, they waited.

Into the arena came the serene figure of the Orca Alpha, Medea.  She regarded her two young wards with a thoughtful expression.  She seldom smiled, but her eyes immediately betrayed a certain pleasure at seeing the two of them hard at work.  From within the folds of her blue robes, she withdrew two long, curved blades, crossing them in front of her chest.  “Good afternoon,” she said lightly.

Both Mika and Alcia pulled up erect, crossing their wrists in front of their chests.  Since they had not yet attempted initiation, neither was permitted to carry blades.  This was an Orca rule.  Medea knew that many of the larger clans had done away with it long ago, but she clung to tradition, as her mother before her and her mother before her, all the way back down the line.  She hoped that Alcia and Mika would do the same, after she was gone, but there was much reason to doubt that.

“Good afternoon, Alpha,” Mika barked obediently.

“Good afternoon, Alpha,” Alcia said in her typical, timid whisper.

“At ease,” Medea told them.  Immediately, both girls relaxed.  “I came looking for you,” Medea said, surveying them lovingly.

“Why?” Alcia asked, inching in front of her quiver in the vain hopes that Medea would not see her pathetic green arrows.

“I have made a very important decision regarding your futures,” Medea explained.

“What’s that, mother?” Mika wondered.

Medea paused a moment, watching the girls.  Her face was neutral as ever, but her eyes betrayed a sense of hesitation.  This had not been an easy decision.  “The time has come for your initiations,” she said finally.

Mika looked about ready to explode with joy.  As hard as she tried, she could not perfectly emulate Medea’s abilities to hide her emotions.  Alcia, on the other hand, made not attempt to hide what she was feeling.  Her jaw went slack and her gaunt, fair face displayed pure horror.  “Already?” she squeaked.

“You’ve both turned twenty,” Medea said.  “I think it’s time.  Din has given me a sign.”

Alcia gulped.  “She has?”

“A man was caught loitering around camp,” Medea explained.  “It’s time to put him to use.”

“Oh, what’s he like?” Mika questioned.

“Thoroughly unimpressive,” Medea said.  “Just a man.”

“When are we going to begin?” Alcia asked nervously.

“This afternoon, in two hours time, our sisters will assemble and he’ll be led in.  Alcia, you will face him.”

“M-me?”

“Her?” Mika snapped impatiently.

“Yes,” Medea replied.

Alcia steeled herself, trying to appear braver than she doubtlessly felt.  “Very well,” she told the Alpha.

Medea walked over to Alcia, taking her head in her hands.  She kissed the girl’s forehead.  “I know you will make me proud,” she whispered gently.

“I w-will try,” Alcia said.

“You are strong and brave,” Medea told her.  “Now, go prepare yourself.”

“Y-yes.”  Alcia nodded.  Stumbling over the quiver, she walked out of the arena, barely hiding the trembling of her legs.

Mika folded her arms, a pout threatening to break her lips.  “Why does she get to go first?”

“Because,” Medea said, “this man is unimpressive.  I don’t think he’ll hurt her.  You’ll receive a more formidable opponent in time.  I’ll go out and capture one myself.  It wouldn’t do for you to fight just an idiot who happened to wander too close to our territory.”

Mika seemed to accept the explanation.  “All right.”

“You will make me so proud, Mika,” Medea gushed softly.

“I live to do so,” Mika replied.

 

After changing out of her dirty clothing and into pale, pink desert wear, Nebekah parted with the blessing of her Alpha, a contemporary named Miral, and together with Link, headed out to cross the Valley.  It had been a long time since she last visited the Orca Pride.  Their relations with the Jaguar were tenuous at best.  “They don’t stage raids like the Kodiak,” she explained, “but they still hold some barbaric practices.”

“Like what?” Link asked, accepting her helping hand as they scrambled over some loose shale. 

“They’re the only Pride to keep male prisoners.”

“You told me that.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell you why.”

“Okay,” Link said.  “Why?”

“Two reasons.  Some of the male prisoners they use for reproductive purposes, to keep their bloodlines going.”

“You mean…?”

“Yup.”

Link made a face.  “What about the others?”

“Well, the Orca have an initiation rite.”

“Something tells me this isn’t going to end happily.”

“You see, when Orca warriors are trained,” she said, “they fight only against women.  Their final test, to prove themselves worthy, is to fight a man.”

“And they prove themselves worthy if they…?”

Nebekah nodded.  “If they manage to kill him.”

“No offense, Nebekah,” Link grumbled, “but your people are really a bit frightening.”

“They’re not my people,” she said.

“They’re still Gerudo.”

“Not all Gerudo are the same,” she insisted.  “There was a time, hundreds of years ago, when the Gerudo were all one people.”

“What happened?”

She shrugged.  “Well, it’s a little clouded in myth now.”

“What’s the story?”

“Well, the story is that there were five sisters.  They were great warriors, but they fought amongst themselves.  And each garnered their own following.”

“Naturally,” he snorted.

“And in the end, the Gerudo people were splintered into five separate groups.  The five Prides today.”

“And each developed their own set of rules to live by?”

“Sort of,” she replied.  “Based on the edicts of the founding sister.  We may all be Gerudo, but each Pride is a unique culture.  The Orca and the Jaguar are as different as the Saber Tooth and the Dragon.”

“And they’re all different from Ganondorf’s girlfriends?”

“The Kodiak,” she growled.

“But they all have the same titles,” Link pointed out quickly, eager to keep her from getting too upset.

“The leader of each Pride is called the Alpha.  The second in command is the Beta.”

“Like you.”

“Like me.  Third is the Gamma.  And each Pride has a priestess and an elder healing woman.”

“The same.”

“It’s only proof of a common heritage.”

They walked on for a ways in silence.  Link thought about the Gerudo and their splintering, finding it oddly similar to the way the Hylian race divided into subspecies.  The Zora were distinct from the Goron.  It was history repeating itself, really, when the Gerudo divided into their Prides.  This was discouraging.  Did that mean that people who were different – either in ethics of the number of fingers they possessed – simply couldn’t coexist?  Yet the Sages had represented every Hylian race.  Did that mean there was hope yet?

The sun was beating down now, causing the back of Link’s tunic to stick to his skin with sweat.  He pulled off his gauntlets, thrusting them unceremoniously into his satchel and wiping the back of his hand across his forehead.  Nebekah, more accustomed to the desert travel, graciously slowed down, allowing him to walk in her shadow and offering him sips from her canteen at regular intervals.

“We really should have gotten you more appropriate clothing,” she muttered.  “That fabric doesn’t breathe.”

Link sincerely doubted that the Jaguar had desert garb for men, peaceful though they were, living so close to the border of Hylian territory.  Still, he appreciated Nebekah’s concern.  To keep himself from getting too down trod, he reminded himself that it could certainly be worse.  He could be back in the volcanic caverns of the Goron.  Somehow, this did not work as intended.  Instead of being grateful for the relative cool of the desert in comparison, he merely felt a pang in his throat, reminding himself of that which he longed to forget.

There was some comfort in traveling with Nebekah.  She has shared in some of the terrors that haunted Link.  During his mad quest to rescue Nabooru, it had been Nebekah who had tended his wounds when the perils of the desert nearly claimed his life.  He had found her in a cavern with several Gerudo sisters, resisting the iron will of Ganondorf and the Kodiak who had claimed most of the desert.  He remembered all too well the pain and anguish on her face when she told him of the fierce battle, the fight the Jaguar put up, costing them both their Alpha and Nebekah’s mother.  In the end, it was only the young, those with legs strong enough to flee, that survived the devastation.  Link imagined that like him, Nebekah too wanted nothing more than to forget about Ganondorf and his horrors.

After some time, Nebekah stopped, holding a hand up to shield her vision from the sun.  “There,” she said.

“Where?”

Nebekah pointed off to one side, raising her chin.  “There’s something in the sand.  Come on.”

With that, the two of them cut away from their path, trotting through the windswept plane.  It was awhile before Link saw what she could see, a black speck in the flawless yellow sand.  The speck grew and grew until finally they were standing over it.  Link knelt down, touching the black dirt.  “Soot,” he said, rolling it between his bare fingers.

“It seems your friend’s nephew made it this far,” she said.

“How do you know this was Tyro’s fire?” he asked.

She knelt down across from him.  “This fire was put out by water,” she explained in a matter of fact tone.

“Okay…”

“When a Gerudo puts out a campfire, she uses the sand.”  For emphasis, Nebekah picked up a handful of sand and slowly poured it over the soot.  “It saves water for drinking and it has the added bonus of covering up the soot.”

“So no one can track you?”

“Exactly.”

Link nodded slowly.  “I see.”

“It seems your friend most likely did wander into Orca territory.”

“That’s good, right?”

She frowned.  “It depends on two things.”

“What?”

“It depends on how long ago this was.”

“And what purpose the Orca have in mind for him?”

“If he was captured.”

“Right…”

Link ran his fingers through the soot.  Suddenly, Nebekah frowned.  “What’s that?” she asked.

“What’s what?”

Nebekah reached out and grabbed his arm, lifting it up to her eye level.  “What’s that?” she repeated, pointing to the intricate array of blue lines tattooed on the Hero’s wrist

Quickly, Link pulled his arm back.  “Nothing,” he said.

She gave him an incredulous look.  “Nothing?”

He sighed.  “I’ve had it since I was a baby, I think.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know exactly.  Impa says it looks like half of a Hylian glyph.”

“What’s it mean?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.  “I’ve never seen the other half.”

“There’s another half?”

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” Link insisted.

She persisted.  “Why?”

“Look,” he said sharply, “I was raised by the Kokiri, but I was never one of them.  I’m just a Hylian.  I obviously had Hylian parents at some point.”

“Why would they mark you?”

“I was a baby,” he said.  “I didn’t really think to ask.”

“Link…”

He frowned.  “Impa says that I had a sister.  She thinks that our parents marked us each with half of the symbol so that we could locate each other if anything happened to us.”

“Well, that’s certainly planning ahead.”

“I’ll say.  Like they knew something was going to come between us or that Kasuto was going to be attacked.”

“So what happened to your sister?”

Link shrugged.  “I don’t know.  She went into hiding like me, I guess.”

“You never tried to find her?”

“I don’t even know what her name is.”  He pulled out his gauntlets, putting them on again, signaling that the conversation was over.  “Let’s keep going,” he said.

 

Tyro generally prided himself on a unique ability to keep a level head no matter what the situation was.  He could talk his way out of a tab at the tavern better than anyone else in town.  If he happened to forget the name of the girl he had spent an evening with, he was always cool and calm, dismissing it with an easy going smile.  Even as a child, he had managed to explain away the missing cookies from the kitchen without implicating himself at all.  But this time, he had to admit, he was at a loss.

These girls weren’t like the town courtesans.  He had figured that much when they clubbed him over the head and dragged him across the desert.  It wasn’t his fault he had been camping out in their territory.  He had no idea how these blasted Gerudo clans operated.  All he knew was that one moment, he was perfectly content, minding his own business, and the next he had been thrown into a musty iron cage that he suspected was generally used to hold Moblins.  Typical Gerudo behavior, of course.  They were always harming the innocent.

Unlike so many sticky situations before, Tyro’s good looks were useless against these women.  Not that he would smile at his captors, flashing his brilliant teeth, batting his magically long of lash blue eyes only to receive scowls, curses, and the occasional spit in his face.  All things told he had to admit he was in over his head.  And things only seemed to be getting much worse.  Well, it was his own fault.  No, he couldn’t believe that.  It was their fault.  None of this would have happened if the Gerudo nation hadn’t minded its own business.

In the morning, he was informed that he would be participating in the initiation ritual of someone called Alcia.  For a moment, he allowed his mind to fool him into believing that this would be a pleasant ordeal, but now, no amount of pretending would protect him from reality.  His wrists were bound by surprisingly strong linen and he was dragged out of the cage, one Orca holding his arm, the other firmly tugging on his long, auburn ponytail.  They led him through the hallways of the Orca fortress, lined on either side by insanely angry women who occasionally threw things at him.  Usually curses.  Occasionally rocks.  Tyro wished he could move his head to glare at them and make his contempt well known.

At last, his pale skin was seared by the sun once more as they led him into a stone arena.  In the stands, the warriors of the Orca pride had gathered, beating on drums and waving torches into the already insufferably hot air.  Tyro was dragged to the center of the arena floor, thrown to the sand at the feet of a woman.  He had seen her several times before during his captivity.  They called her Alpha Medea.  She was a striking woman with slender fingers and long red hair, pulled back with a blue snood, all but a few tendrils that framed her face.  For a Gerudo, she had a softer, prettier look, favoring blue robes to the leather battle gear of the majority of the Orca.  Still, Tyro had the distinct impression that she could do him a nasty bit of injury.

“Untie him,” she commanded the lackeys that had dragged him through the hall.  Tyro was grateful to feel the bounds fall away from his wrists.  Gingerly, he rubbed his aching scalp.

As he looked up, he noticed a ring of younger girls standing around the edge of the arena.  Each one wore a distinct color and carried a quiver with arrows of the matching color:  All except one, a frail, frightened looking blond girl in green who stood opposite of Tyro, clutching a pair of swords with trembling hands.  She seemed to be taking in the crowd as one observed a massacre, her eyes wide, her skin completely blanched.  Immediately, Tyro felt his heart lift considerably.  Whoever she was, however she came to be here, she wasn’t like the others.  She wasn’t a Gerudo.  She was a Hylian just like him.

The drum music finally died down.  Medea held up her hands in one majestic sweep and all fell silent, watching her intently.  “Today, my sisters,” she declared, “Alcia joins our ranks as a Gerudo warrior.”  There was cheering in the crowd, but Tyro was almost positive that he heard some murmurs of trepidation too.  “She will today become a Delta warrior.  The sacrifice has been brought forward.”

Sacrifice?  That didn’t sound good.  As the women in the stands cheered, one of Tyro’s ever so annoying guards kicked him in the side.  “On your feet,” she hissed.  Frankly, Tyro didn’t feel much like getting up, but it was probably best to obey for the time being.  Still, he gave her a nasty glare.

Medea made another graceful gesture and Tyro’s guards backed up to the sidelines.  She made her way over to him.  “Your death brings honor to my daughter,” she said quietly.

“She doesn’t look much like you,” he said feebly.

“Din provides us with children in more than one way,” she replied.  With that, she drew a sword from the confines of her robe.  Tyro flinched, certain she was about to cut his throat, but much to his surprise, she flipped the sword in her hand, catching it by the blade, and offered him the hilt.

“Uh…”  He wasn’t really sure what to do.  She stood there, watching him expectantly.  “Right,” he muttered, taking the hilt.

“May you die quickly,” she told him, stepping back.  In a louder voice, she turned to address the crowd.  “Alcia!” she called.  Quivering, the little blond girl stepped forward.  She raised her swords, crossing them in front of her chest.  “Are you ready to serve the Gerudo nation?”

“I am r-ready,” Alcia recited.  No!  Tyro did not want to duel her!  She wasn’t one of them.  She didn’t deserve to die.

“Until this point, you have fought only women.  Now you will defeat the true enemy.”  Medea clapped her hands together.  And again.  And again.  Everyone in the crowd began clapping, beating out a steady rhythm as the Alpha backed away to the sidelines, leaving Tyro alone to face Alcia.  “Begin,” Medea called in time with the sturdy clapping.

At once, Alcia advanced, nervously, on Tyro.  He held up the sword with both hands.  In truth, he had never had much talent with the sword.  He had always found polearms much easier.  They traveled better, weighed less, and were readily available for nasty tavern brawls.  Not that he particularly wanted to fight this girl at all.  But he had been given very little choice in the matter.

With a labored effort, Alcia took the first swing, her swords wildly cutting down at Tyro.  He easily dodged the sloppy blow.  “We don’t have to do this,” he said, resorting to his old failsafe approach to any hazardous situation.

“Yes,” she grunted, taking a second swing with her left hand at his head.  “We do.”

Tyro narrowly jumped out of the way, still clutching his sword in front of him.  “Really, I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

Alcia thrust both of her swords forward, missing Tyro completely though he was standing stationary.  “I have to become a woman today.”

“Aren’t there other ways of doing that?” he asked.

“No,” she insisted, with another sloppy strike which Tyro avoided.  “This is the only way.”

“That’s really unfortunate,” he said, taking a few steps back.  “Come on, you’re one of my kind, not one of them.”

“Don’t run away from me, coward,” she shouted.  “Fight me.”

“All things told, I think I’d rather run away.  It’s safer that way.”

“Safe?  I’ll show you safe!”  Gathering up all her strength, Alcia bellowed, holding her swords forward and charging at Tyro.  The move was so sudden and unexpected, that he didn’t have time to dodge.  He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut, and desperately hoped that the pain would be brief.  There was a sickening slicing sound, rather like a cabbage being chopped in half with a cleaver.  Well, that didn’t hurt at all.  Tyro slowly opened his eyes and he realized why.

Alcia stood in front of him, a look of shock on her face which was even paler than before.  As his eyes traveled down her tiny frame, he saw his own sword firmly planted in her stomach.  She dropped her curved blades.  There was a collective gasp from the crowd and the clapping stopped abruptly.  “Alcia!” a girl in blue called from the sidelines.

Tyro stepped back, letting go of the sword.  It remained firmly embedded in Alcia’s skin.  Her breathing was sharp and uneven, her stomach pumping up and down as blood gushed from the wound, down her leg.  It was only a minute, but it felt like a lifetime.  Only when that passed did Alcia fall, hitting the already bloodstained sand with a soft thud.  “Alcia!” Medea shouted, running forward and dropping to her daughter’s side.  “Get Tiama!” she barked to one of the shocked bystanders.  Medea pulled Alcia’s head into her lap, holding her gently and brushing her hair away from her sweat drenched face.  “Breathe easy,” she whispered gently.

“I…” Tyro was too shocked for words.  He certainly hadn’t intended on hurting the girl.  He wouldn’t have minded running through a Gerudo or two, but she was different.  “I…”

There was a sudden roar from the side.  The girl in blue charged forward at Tyro, so fast that again, he didn’t have time to dodge.  She knocked him flat onto his back and planted a knee into his chest, grabbing one of Alcia’s fallen blades.  She pulled it back, ready to plunge it into Tyro’s throat, but a hand caught her wrist, stopping her, and not a