Link was in hell.  Not literally, of course, though he imagined the climate was comparable.  He stood between two great and angry forces, two metaphorical tidal waves, ready to crash and destroy everything in between them, namely, him.  Before him, leading the pack across the arid desert, walked Nebekah and Sapphia, the twin Betas of the group, representing the Jaguar Pride and the Kodiak Pride respectively.  These great titans, sworn enemies on principle, threw insults at each other faster than a game of bag mitten in the royal courtyard.  At stake, however, was something more than a shuttlecock.  It was a matter of honor to them.

            “If the Kodiak had bothered to stand up to Dragmire,” Nebekah insisted, “then I imagine the Gerudo nation wouldn’t be so universally hated among the people of Hyrule.”

            “Well, you’d know,” Sapphia snapped.  “After all, only the Jaguar would deign to live so close to the filth that comes out of Hyrule.”

            “We live in peace with our neighbors,” Nebekah declared.

            “If by peace, you mean total submission.  Tell me, when’s the last time the Jaguar won a battle?”

            “When’s the last time the Kodiak refrained from violence?”

            If that wasn’t bad enough, Link also had to contend with a second storm front, raging behind him with equal ferocity.  Defending the rear came Mika and Tyro, the former Link’s estranged sister, the latter a boy Link had come to rescue from the clutches of the Gerudo at the behest of Talon.  If anything, these two were far worse than Nebekah and Sapphia.  At least they had something in common, a Gerudo upbringing, no matter how different the clans contended to be.  Tyro and Mika had only one thing in common, a mutual hatred for the other’s ancestry.

            “I told you,” Mika insisted, “the Orca do not kidnap women.”

            “Of course you’d say that,” Tyro sneered.  He had come to the Gerudo Valley on his own, after reading his father’s diaries and discovering that his mother had, in fact, been taken by the Gerudo.  He could not bring himself to see the difference between Prides.

            “Typical man,” Mika hissed.  “Convinced the world revolves around you and your conspiracies.”  Mika, by contrast, had grown up among the Gerudo and could not bring herself to see men in any other light except the one she had been taught.  To her Pride, the Orca Pride, they served two purposes, reproduction and initiation into the Pride by blood.

            Link wouldn’t have minded the arguments so much, save for the fact that by this point, both sets of contenders had run out of new barbs and insults, therefore repeating the old ones and returning to the same arguments again and again.  The journey to the territory of the Saber Tooth Pride had been consistently noisy.  Link was only grateful that, by this point, it was unlikely that news of their quest had been far spread.  They were traveling to the Saber Tooth to collect a second Shard, a piece of the shattered Gerudo Topaz which, according to myth, when assembled created a powerful magical stone that was apparently a weapon.  It simply had to be one, because Twinrova was after it.

            Over and over again, Link remembered the cryptic engraving he had found on the pedestal to for the first Shard, safely kept in Mika’s boot.  …‘One thing stands between the stone and the grave…’  He did not like the sound of that.  Perhaps he would have felt more comfortable, knowing what that one thing was.  Sadly, that was the total extent of the information he had gleaned about the Topaz, other than the story of its initial separation which Nebekah had provided, being something of an expert on the Gerudo nation in general.

            “Hey, Nebekah,” he called, realizing that her skills could be put to better use than a continued verbal spar with Sapphia.

            “What?” she snapped.  Immediately, she looked guilty.  Nebekah had been Link’s friend for awhile now.  They had met as children when he first ventured into the Gerudo Valley, and then years later, during his quest to vanquish Ganondorf, an ordeal Link very much wished to forget, but knew that he never would.  “Sorry, blondie,” she told him apologetically.

            “How far are we from the Saber Tooth territory?” he asked, accepting her guilty look for an apology.

            “We’re already in it,” she said.

            Link immediately tensed, looking nervously around the seemingly deserted savannah.  “So how come Tyro and I haven’t become arrow magnets yet?”

            “Don’t worry,” Nebekah told him, a slight smile cracking her stoic face.  “The Saber Tooth don’t kill men on sight.”

            “Cowards,” Mika mumbled.

            “Why not?” Link persisted.

            “The Saber Tooth have a unique method of ensuring the continuation of their line,” Nebekah explained.

            “Wait a second,” Tyro interrupted.  “I think I’ve heard of them.  Aren’t they supposed to be the most beautiful Gerudo out there?”  Of course, Tyro would know, being a bit of a playboy back in the Hylian village of New Kasuto where he had grown up.

            “Some people say so,” Nebekah answered.

            “Oh yeah,” Tyro drawled.  “I’ve heard of these girls.”

            “They have the purest line of Gerudo blood,” Sapphia added.

            Nebekah gave her a brief glare before continuing.  “The Saber Tooth allow men to come to their fortress freely.”

            Link screwed up his face.  “Why?”

            “Well, being the most beautiful of Gerudo,” she told him, “men often seek them for mates.”

            “Naturally,” Tyro scoffed.

            “Shut up,” Mika snapped at him.

            “What happens when a man shows up?” Link cut in quickly before another argument could ensue.

            “Well, they’re treated as honored guests,” Nebekah said.  “And after spending a few days among the Saber Tooth, generally, they will have selected the one they wish to mate with.”

            “Then what happens?”

            “Then,” he said, “a fight happens.”

            “A fight,” Link repeated uncertainly.

            “The man challenges the woman he wishes to mate with to a fight.  It’s held before the entire Pride.  If the woman wins, then she cuts his throat and bathes in his blood.  Apparently, that’s where the Saber Tooth believe they draw their unnatural beauty from.”

            “That’s disgusting,” Tyro droned.

            Nebekah nodded.  “Yes.  Although there is a basis for that kind of belief, actually.”

            “A basis,” Link repeated.  “What do you mean?”

            “There are ancient spells, dating all the way back to the time of Gerudo unity, glamour spells, beauty spells.  They all require blood.”  Nebekah shrugged.  “Which is probably how the Twinrova sisters managed to stay young so long.  It wouldn’t surprise me if the Saber Tooth actually believed that blood restored beauty.”

            “And what happens if the man wins the fight?” Tyro asked.

            “If the man wins,” Nebekah said, “then he is allowed to mate with the woman he has defeated.”

            “And then sent packing on his merry way?” Tyro scoffed.

            “Well, as far as I understand it, there are a few things that may or may not happen to him.”

            “Like what?”

            Nebekah frowned.  “That depends very much on if the women he has defeated likes him.”

            “Ladies choice,” Tyro mumbled.

            “If she likes him,” Nebekah continued, “then once they produce a daughter, the Gerudo may leave the child in the care of the Pride and then return to Hyrule with her mate to be married.”

            Link blinked.  “And then return for the daughter, right?”

            She shook her head.  “No.  The deal is, if a woman wants to marry, she has to leave the Pride.  And if she wants to leave the Pride, she has to provide her own replacement.”

            “Oh.”

            “And since all the Saber Tooth are full Gerudo, all their children will naturally be female.  So the firstborn can serve as a replacement for anyone who wants to leave and marry.”

            “That is so messed up,” Tyro muttered.

            “For once I agree,” Mika said.  “Who’d want to allow a man to –”

            “Don’t knock it until you try it,” Tyro cut her off.

            “What happens if she doesn’t like the guy?” Link wondered.

            “Well,” Nebekah said with a shrug, “then after they mate, she sends him away, alive and well.  She stays where she is.  If a child happens to be produced, it is raised among the Gerudo and nothing really changes.”

            Link scowled suddenly.  “Nebekah, they aren’t going to expect me and Tyro to challenge a warrior, are they?  I mean, once we arrive at the fortress?”  He gestured ahead to the fortress which was now looming, a solid gray mass with very little decoration and no windows.

            “I doubt it, blondie,” Nebekah said.

            “I think I’m through fighting these insane girls,” Tyro said firmly.  Although his tone was glib as ever, Link felt he could detect a certain resentment buried within.  He had not learned all the details, but what he had managed to glean, so far, was that Tyro had been forced to fight a young Gerudo called Alcia, who had been a close friend to Mika and who had died, not by Tyro’s hand, but by accident.  Link could still remember his first kill and rather wished he didn’t.  It must have been even more difficult for Tyro.  True, he hadn’t really killed Alcia, but she had been a person, not a monster.

            “Good to know,” Link said.

            “You two should be relatively safe,” Nebekah assured him.  “The Saber Tooth are much more tolerant of men than any other Pride.  They allow men free access to their stronghold, provided that they obey the rules, and such.”

            “Well, that’ll make this easier.”

            “Do you think the Alpha will be willing to hand over her Shard?” Sapphia mumbled.

            Nebekah shrugged.  “Well, her name is Nassan.  I’ve met her a few times.  She’s pretty reasonable.”

            “Good,” Link said, feeling his heart lighten considerably.  Given all the trouble within his little group, he didn’t much care to have to deal with a crazy Gerudo on top of that.

            By this point, they had reached the entrance to the fortress, a polished cherry oak door with images of beautiful women burned in, flanking either side of the words ‘Saber Tooth Pride.’  “They want you to know who you’re dealing with,” Tyro observed, his eyes scanning the gold letters.  From the other side of the doorway, they could hear sitar music, twanging lazily over the chatter of voices.  “Sounds like they’re having fun in there.”

            “We’re not staying that long,” Nebekah told him.

            “Killjoy.”

            With a wry smile, Nebekah grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.  Instantly, a wall of purple smoke came pouring out, causing the five of them to cough and fan it away from their faces.  Link’s eyes stung, but he dared to open them, peering into the room as the fog thinned.  The architecture seemed typical Gerudo:  Stone walls and furniture, ample pillows of silk strewn about the room.

            “This isn’t right,” Sapphia said.

            “What?” Tyro asked.

            As Link scanned the room though, he discovered it for himself.  Although they had just been told that the Saber Tooth were decent toward men, there was clearly something amiss with the image before him.  Lounging on the piles of pillows were dozens of men, mostly Hylian, most of them covered in scars and dressed in peasant garb.  The Gerudo present were indeed as beautiful as they were rumored to be, most of them with long red hair and sharp blue eyes.  They were dressed in skimpy, clinging dresses, not at all like the desert garb that Link was used to seeing on the Gerudo.  There was something familiar about it, but Link couldn’t place it.

            For a moment, he chalked the scantily clad women up to custom.  He had never met the Saber Tooth before.  Perhaps this was normal dress for them.  But then he remembered that Nebekah had called them great warriors.  Clearly they had to be if the only way to mate with one was to fight her.  These dresses didn’t seem at all conducive to fighting.  Nor did the many silver bangles adorning their wrists and ankles as they walked across the room, carrying trays filled with wine goblets and fresh fruit, the source of which Link could only guess at.

            The women crossed the room, leaning over to offer various treats to the men resting on the pillows.  But there was decidedly something amiss with this service.  All of them seemed to be scowling, giving the men glares of pure hatred as if they would much rather plunge swords into their chests and serve them a snack.  Even the sitar player, who Link spotted sitting on a pillow by the wall, seemed to be glaring hatefully at her instrument, as though she had absolutely no desire to continue playing it and would much rather use it to deliver a blow to the back of someone’s head.

            Elsewhere in the room, Link noticed one of the men on a pillow pile had grabbed the arm of a passing girl, pulling her down onto his lap and kissing her.  She looked ready to bite his face off, but instead, sat there, completely still, letting him have his way with her.  Why didn’t she fight back?  The man was going too far, his hand caressing her bottom as he deepened the kiss.  Still, she remained completely still, compliant.  Unlike any Gerudo Link had ever known.

            “Nebekah,” he said quietly, unable to take his eyes off of the spectacle arrayed before him.

            “Yeah?” she asked, equally shocked.

            “Is this normal behavior for the Saber Tooth?”

            “What do you think?”

            “I think there’s something very wrong with this picture,” he said.  And that’s when he realized what was so familiar about this scene.  It didn’t look like a Gerudo fortress.  It looked like a harem.

 

            Koume paused to admire her work.  At last, the new ice castle was complete.  She had to admit, she had impressed even herself this time.  Given how weak and addled the resurrection had made her, she was decidedly surprised that she had retained enough power to pull it off.  True, the castle was nowhere near as grand as their dungeon had once been, but it would suffice until Ganondorf’s return.  She had taken great pains to create a few separate rooms, in case unwanted visitors happened to show up.  Also, she had made certain that the ice was frosted enough so that she could not see her own reflection in the surface.  Old age was not something she looked upon with fondness and she had no desire to see her advanced state of decay.  Hungrily, she thought of the great power she would wield again once Ganondorf was reborn.  She would have her youth and so would Kotake.

            She shivered bitterly.  It was a bit unfair.  While she was maintaining a new home base for them, Kotake was the one who was able to go out and oversee their operations.  It was Kotake who had been the one to find their vessel, the Gerudo who would give birth to Ganondorf reborn and it was Kotake who arranged for the few amenities that Koume was unable to make out of ice for the fortress.  Koume found herself feeling a bit stir crazy.  She was spending far too much time on her own.  After all, they hadn’t managed to procure so much as a Moblin.  Not that Moblins were the greatest conversationalists, but still, Koume loathed being left to her own devices.  All she would do is sit and brood over old age.  And think.  When she thought, dangerous little sparks of inspiration came to her.

            A shimmering streak of orange appeared in the sky, descending as Kotake flew back through the open roof of the ice tower and down to the only remaining part of the old fortress, the floor.  “You’re back early,” Koume told her, turning away from her work.

            “It was much easier than expected,” Kotake replied haughtily as she dismounted from the broom.

            “I’ve finished the fortress,” Koume said.  She gestured grandly, raising both hands and sending small sparkles of ice from her fingertips in a silver shower of great triumph.

            “Yes, I see that.”

            “What do you think?”

            Kotake took a grand total of five seconds to glance around at hours of painstaking work.  “It will do,” she said.

            Koume bristled.  Typical of her sister.  Taking no interest in the fine craftsmanship and the great care that had gone into the work.  “It will do,” Koume repeated.

            “Yes.”

            “I see.”

            Kotake then produced a rumpled old satchel from the end of her broom.  “And I have the finishing touch!” she said triumphantly.

            “What is it?” she asked in a dry, dead tone, lowering her tired old arms, and pulling her ragged shawl tighter around her neck.

            From the satchel, Kotake removed a slim, white slab of marble.  “A telepathy tile,” she said proudly displaying it.  The early morning sunlight glinted off of the smooth surface.

            Her nearly invisible eyebrows inched higher as she leaned forward.  “You got one?  Is that it?”

            “No,” Kotake said dryly.  “This is just a fake one.”  There was a brief pause.  “Yes!  I got one.”

            “Right.”

            She scanned the room for a moment, then walked over to one of the ice walls.  Her hand glowing with fire, she pressed it into the ice.  Water began running down to the floor as a small alcove was melted.  A soft sizzle filled the air.  Once Kotake was satisfied, shaping the new grove with her hand, then she thrust the telepathy tile directly into it.  “There,” she said.

            Wordlessly, Koume walked over, carefully icing up the edges around the tile again, biting her tongue to keep from complaining about the hours of work spoiled by Kotake’s little fire.  It was hard enough using magic to protect the palace against the elements of the desert.  She didn’t need her pyromaniac sister destroying their new home now.  “It should stay,” was all she said.

            Kotake seemed to accept this.  “Good.  Now we can speak to the vessel with relative ease.  I’ve told her to seek out telepathy stones in the other Gerudo strongholds.  They each have one, I’m sure.  If not, I imagine we’ll still be able to get brief messages through.  You know how these things are.  The weak minded are easy to connect with, telepathically.  All she’d need to do is think about it.”

            This perked Koume’s interest.  “You’ve met with her?”

            “Yes,” Kotake admitted.  “Late last night, camping on the outskirts of Saber Tooth territory.”

            “What have you learned?”

            “There’s a fellowship of five traveling across the Valley to assemble the pieces of the Topaz before we do,” Kotake told her.

            “Five?  I thought it would just be the Hero.”

            “A minor complication.”

            “Who are the others?”

            “The Betas of the Kodiak and the Jaguar, a young Orca trainee, and a boy from the Hylian village.”

            Koume frowned.  “Where do those last two come in?”

            “Well,” Kotake muttered, “it seems that the Orca is actually the Hero’s long lost sister.  Isn’t that just quaint?”

            “Indeed.”

            “She’s been charged with the task of assembling the Topaz for her rite of initiation.  It’s too bad she’ll have to fail.  She’s quite the little spitfire.  Very impressive.”

            “Do you suppose she could be of use to us?” Koume asked.

            “It’s possible,” Kotake mumbled, shrugging her thin shoulders.  “I certainly won’t rule it out just yet.”

            “What about the village boy?”

            Kotake laughed dryly.  “Just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.  I imagine he’s nothing.  Expendable.  The girl is much more important right now.  She has the first Shard.”

            “She does?”

            “Yes,” Kotake said, nodding gravely.

            “Then we must see to it that our vessel gets a hold of the next one.”

            “I have no doubt she will,” Kotake sighed.  “Our little distraction with the Saber Tooth should keep everyone in that fellowship busy enough for her to sneak in and grab it.”

            “I feel a bit guilty for what we did to them,” Koume admitted.

            “Don’t,” Kotake snapped.  “Guilt is a weakness and I won’t allow it.  Besides, they deserve what they got.  It serves them right for allowing men to come and go from a Gerudo fortress as they please.”

            “Well, I suppose so,” she sighed.

            “What shall we do now?”

            “All we need to do now is wait.”  With that, Kotake rolled up her ragged, smelly sleeve and pressed her palm to the telepathy tile.  Turning to Koume, she jerked her head, indicating for her to do the same.  Koume reached out, pressing her gnarled hand against the smooth white tile.  Instantly, a warm, gentle feeling flooded her veins, making her feel as though her hand had become a part of the tile.  She felt her mind expand, swelling to open up to the nature of Hyrule.  She heard voices coming out of every village and town, every shack and stall, all the most intimate thoughts of Hylians everywhere.  She would wait now, hoping to pick up on the voice of the vessel.

 

            The five of them had not moved from the doorway in a good seven minutes.  They stood there, staring in half horror, half fascination as the great female warriors of the Saber Tooth Pride catered to the whims of a few men, lying on their bottoms, most likely draining the supplies of the Pride.  It was finally Sapphia who murmured, “We can’t just stand here.”

            “What are we supposed to do?” Mika asked.

            “Bring me a bowl of dates!” one of the men on a pillow shouted, holding his hand out to a Gerudo who seemed to be doing nothing but standing around.  Instantly, as if someone had tied an invisible string to her navel, she jerked forward, like some kind of perverse puppet, picking up a tray of dates from a table and bringing it, most unwillingly, to the one who had given the command.

            “Well, that’s odd,” Tyro deadpanned.

            “Nebekah,” Link said, “Do you see the Alpha anywhere?”

            Quickly, Nebekah’s bright blue eyes scanned the room.  She shook her head.  “No, I don’t.”

            “Surely the Alpha would not approve of such behavior,” Mika said.  “Catering to the demands of men.”

            “Because it’s wrong to ever do a man a favor,” Tyro said.

            Mika nodded.  “Exactly.”

            “That’s more than a favor,” Nebekah said.

            Tyro rolled his eyes.  He stepped forward, approaching a pretty young Saber Tooth, carrying a leather wine decanter to a stack of barrels, no doubt to refill it.  “Hey,” he called out to her.

            “What?” she snapped.

            “Why are you doing this?”

            “Doing what?”

            “Serving these blokes.”

            “Because they told me to,” she said angrily.  “If I had my way, I assure you, I would gully you all.”

            “Watch the way you throw around the word ‘you,’” he said.  “You’re doing this because they told you to?”

            “Yes.”

            Tyro smirked, a small chuckle escaping at this ridiculous explanation.  “Get out,” he laughed.

            She looked at him serenely.  “How far?”

            He blinked, uncertain what to make of this question.  “What?”

            “How far do you want me to get out?” she asked.

            “How far?”

            “Fine, I’ll decide for myself.”  And with that, she whirled around, her hair spinning about her body, and marched out of the front door which Link and the others had left open.

            For a moment, Tyro was silent, watching her go with a blank expression on his face.  “Well,” he finally said, “That was unusual.”

            “You think?” Nebekah droned.

            “Wait a second,” Link said slowly.  “You told her to get out and she got out.  Literally.”

            “Yeah,” Tyro said.

            Link’s mind was racing now.  “And that guy over there ordered the girl to bring him a bowl of dates…”

            “And she brought him a bowl of dates,” Tyro finished, catching on very quickly.  “Bit of an odd coincidence.”

            “Odd or not, I think it has significance.”

            “What are you thinking?” Sapphia murmured.  “They’re obeying the commands given to them?”

            “Let’s try a little experiment,” Tyro said.  He turned to Mika.  “Go up to one of them and order them to do something.”

            “What?” Mika asked.

            “I don’t know, something ridiculous.  Go order one of them to hop up and down on one foot.”

            “I will not,” Mika said indignantly.

            “It’s for the sake of science,” Tyro replied.

            “Absolutely not,” she insisted.

            Nebekah sighed.  “I’ll do it.”  With that, she turned, waving over a nearby Saber Tooth girl.

            “You’re strangers,” the girl said.

            “Just arrived,” Nebekah muttered.  “Hop up and down on one foot.”

            The Saber Tooth stared at her blankly.  “What?”

            “Hop up and down on one foot,” Tyro said.

            Instantly, the Saber Tooth girl began to hop up and down on one foot, glaring daggers at Tyro.  “Man scum,” she hissed.

            “You can stop now,” Link said quickly.

            The girl stopped hopping.  “That wasn’t funny,” she insisted, still directing her hatred at Tyro.

            “Hit him if you like,” Link mumbled.

            With that, the girl struck Tyro in the face, turned around, and stormed away before she could be given any additional commands.  Tyro rubbed his jaw indignantly.  “Thanks a lot, Link.”

            “I found that rather enjoyable,” Mika declared.  She folded her arms.  “Well, as fun as that little exercise was…”

            “It taught us something,” Nebekah said.

            “What?”

            “It seems that the Saber Tooth women are obeying the commands of men,” Link told her.

            “Whether they want to or not,” Sapphia added.

            “What could cause that?” Mika asked.

            “I doubt it’s a change of heart,” Tyro deadpanned.

            “More likely, it’s a spell,” Link muttered.

            “Who could cast a spell like that?” Nebekah wondered.

            “That should be obvious,” Sapphia said.  The others all turned to look at her.  “Clearly, it’s the Twinrova sisters.  They must know that we’re here.”

            Link nodded.  “She has a point.”

            “Let’s have some music,” a rich, unusual voice said from across the room.  “Play something.”  At once, the sitar music began again.  “Dance for us,” the man called and several of the nearby Gerudo began an exotic sand dance.

            “I know that voice,” Tyro said.  “And I don’t think I like it.”

            The five of them turned to look across the room in the direction from which it came.  Resting against an especially large stack of pillows was a slim man with rounded, Human ears.  He appeared to be in his late twenties, quite tall, and quite muscular.  His hair, long and chocolate brown, was pulled back in a ponytail, revealing a blackened burn, in the shape of a crescent moon, on his forehead.  He sat, bare-chested, as an angry Saber Tooth massaged his back.  Hungry eyes drank in the smooth curves of the warrior women as they danced unwillingly for him.

            “Who is he?” Link asked.

            “Ari Prospero,” Tyro supplied.  “A local thug from the village.  I’ve seen him before.”

            “He’s not Hylian,” Nebekah noted.

            “He’s a Risan,” Link said quietly.

            Mika wrinkled up her forehead.  “What’s a Risan?”

            “There’s a small island kingdom to the west of Hyrule,” Link explained.  “The people there are called Risans.  They’re like Humans, only a bit stronger and faster and more aggressive.”

            “How can you tell he’s not a Human?” Mika persisted.

            “The symbol on his forehead,” Link said.  “All Risans have a ritual at the age of fifteen.  They get branded with a fire iron, a celestial shape on their forehead.  They say it connects them to the lifeforce.”  He glanced at Tyro.  “I didn’t know that Risans were local thugs though.”

            “No, not generally,” Tyro said.  “He was banished from his homeland for stealing a priceless jewel or something.  Now he runs a gang of bleeding lay-abouts.  Always yammering about revenge.”

            “What’s he doing here?” Sapphia whispered.

            Tyro shrugged.  “From what I understand, he fancies himself quite the lover.  Probably thought he’d challenge a Saber Tooth.”

            “How do you know this?”

            “I know a courtesan named Darla very well.”  Tyro scanned the room.  “A lot of the other men are his thugs.”

            “Well, he’s clearly made himself the alpha male,” Nebekah said.

            “You know,” Sapphia added, “there aren’t a lot of Saber Tooth in here, relatively speaking.”

            “You’re right,” Mika said.

            “Where do you think the others are?”

            Link didn’t know.  “Either in the fortress or the territory, I guess.”

            “Maybe we should find them,” Sapphia said.  “See if they know anything more than we do.”

            “That’s not a bad idea,” Link said.  “We’ll split up.”

            “I’ll go looking for Nassan,” Nebekah said.  “She’s got to be in the fortress somewhere.”

            “I’ll go with you,” Sapphia said instantly.

            “Why?  You don’t trust me with the Alpha?”

            “The Jaguar would benefit from a second Shard now, wouldn’t they?” Sapphia countered bitterly.

            “Fine,” Link cut in.  “You two go looking for Nassan.”  He sighed heavily, realizing what this meant.  “Tyro, Mika, go searching the outer territory, see if you can find any others.”

            Mika glared at Tyro.  “But –”

            “You need to take a man with you,” Link said, “in case someone tries to attack.  He might be able to order it off.”

            “Fine,” Mika said sulkily.

            “What are you going to do, blondie?” Nebekah asked.

            “I’ll stay here.  See if I can learn anything else about this Ari guy.”

 

            Being saddled with Tyro on this highly important quest was unpleasant.  Being sent to work with him, one on one was completely unsatisfactory.  Just who had died and left Link in command, Mika wondered.  Still, as she marched across the sandy terrain of the Saber Tooth Pride’s territory, she had to admit that since the very beginning, when they first set off away from her home, everyone had always looked to Link to make all the decisions.  He was simply the natural leader.  Mika was having a hard time adjusting to it, frankly.  Her entire life had seen nothing but women in command and she found it difficult to accept that Link was so capable after everything she had been taught about men.

            Of course, it was still quite startling to realize that he was actually her brother, the blood of her blood.  Stories of the Hero of Time had reached even the Orca, but they had been vague, shadowy at best.  All too suddenly, Mika had learned that not only were the stories true, but these great deeds had been performed by her own flesh.  With all of this sudden and abrupt knowledge, she had come to appreciate Link, man though he was.  Tyro, on the other hand, was a different story.

            Mika found everything about him utterly distasteful.  He hated the Gerudo, which was a bad beginning.  Beyond that, though, he was a typical man, everything she had ever been told about them.  He was rude, demanding, self centered, quite arrogant, and clearly viewed women as subservient.  Every time she looked at his irritatingly handsome face, she was filled with the urge to punch him.  Out of respect for Link and her Gerudo sister Nebekah, she had refrained.  They had first come to protect Tyro, after all.  But left alone with him, she feared her patience would soon run out.

            The landscape was turning rockier.  Like the Orca Pride, the Saber Tooth Gerudo lived among the rock formations of the Gerudo Valley.  It was only their front door that faced the sand.  Mika was adept at scaling the rocks, using her arms and her fingers to propel herself forward onto the cliffs and plateaus.  Tyro, by contrast, who had grown up in a wealthy suburb of North Castle, was having some difficulties.

            “Slow down,” he whined.

            “We’re on a mission, not a nature hike,” she said, neatly pulling herself onto a mesa of gray stone.  She pulled an arrow out of her quiver and broke a single feather off of the shaft, resting it on the path to mark where they had been so they could find their way back.

            “Tell me something,” Tyro droned as he hefted his carcass onto the flat.  “Are you always this irritable?”

            “I am not irritable,” she snapped.

            “Oh, sure you’re not.”  He slumped onto his heels, catching his breath, his shoulders heaving up and down.  The pole arm, tied smartly to his back, stabbed up into the air with each breath.

            “Get up.”

            “I need to rest.”

            “We have to keep moving.”

            “In a minute,” he said.

            Mika folded her arms.  “Are you always this lazy?” she countered him with a cruel smile.

            “Yes, actually,” he replied.

            “I thought so.”

            “Never lift a finger unless I have to,” he continued.  “I much prefer good company to good work.”

            “Typical.”

            “You say that like you know the first thing about men.”

            “I know everything I need to know about men,” she shot back.

            “So you’re an expert on men?”

            “Yes.”

            “I see.”  Tyro glanced up at her.  “Tell me something, exactly how many men have you ever had a conversation with?”

            “What?”

            “How many men have you talked to?”

            “Do you count as a man?”

            “Let’s say I do.”

            She paused.  “Two,” she finally admitted.

            “Then,” he said, “I submit that your earlier statement is false.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “You are not an expert on men.”

            “How do you –”

            “You cannot be an expert on men,” he continued, “if you’ve had such limited field experience.”

            “Enough sophistry,” she sneered.

            “Quite right.  I’m well rested now.”  With that, he rose to his feet, flinging his auburn ponytail back over his shoulder.  “After you,” he said with a grand gesture forward.

            “Hmmph,” she snorted, taking up the path once more.

            “You know,” he said, following behind her.  “I’ll admit that some men aren’t exactly wonderful.  That Ari is a real sleaze.  Believe me.”

            “Right.”

            “But you Gerudo aren’t exactly angels either.”

            She whirled around so fast that the blue wraps around her hair flung around her neck.  “What do you mean by that?”

            “I mean,” he said calmly, “you don’t have the best of habits.  Kidnapping innocent women.  Kidnapping my mother.”

            “I told you before!” she snapped.  “We don’t kidnap women.”

            “Maybe your Pride doesn’t,” he said, “but some do.  I know my mother was taken.  I’ve read it.”

            “That’s another Pride.  You can’t blame me for that.”

            “No more than you can blame me for the faults of all men.  What Ari does isn’t what I do.”

            “I have plenty to blame you for,” she hissed.

            “Oh really?”

            “Yes.”

            “And what is that?”

            “You killed my sister,” she blurted out.  The memory of Alcia’s death was still painfully fresh in her memory.  Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it, her Gerudo sister with pale skin and a sweet smile, her eyes wide with shock as she realized that Tyro’s blade had impaled her directly through the middle.

            “That wasn’t my fault,” Tyro insisted.

            “You held the blade.”

            “She ran onto it,” he declared coldly.  “I had no desire to fight her at all.  You know that.”

            “Yes, you were a coward.”

            “Maybe,” he answered.  “But I didn’t take a single swing at her.  What happened was her own doing.”

            “That doesn’t change the fact that she should be here now instead of you.  You don’t deserve to be alive.”

            “You’re probably right, but I am alive now.  And as far as her death is concerned, I’m blameless.”

            “Fine, keep telling yourself that.”

            “How about we make a deal,” he said.

            “A deal?”

            “I stop blaming you for my mother’s kidnapping if you stop blaming me for what happened to Alcia.”  For emphasis, he held out his hand.

            Mika glared at him.  She would rather die than so much as touch his miserable, male skin.  Still, for once, she would make an exception.  With a sneer, she lashed out, knocking his hand away from her.  “There are no accords between wolves and men,” she hissed.

            “Oh, that’s very clever,” he drawled, lowering his arm.  “Did you make that up all by yourself?”

            She spat in his face.  “Let’s go.”  Without a second glance, she turned around, resuming her climb across the rocky Saber Tooth territory.  She could hear Tyro wheezing behind her, attempting to keep up.  Smiling wolfishly, she picked up the pace, moving as fast as she safely could over the stones.  Perhaps he would fall to his death somewhere along the way.  Mika would certainly lose no sleep over his demise and the others couldn’t possibly blame her for his fall, not if she didn’t push him, tempting though it was.

            As she moved, she was disappointed to hear no further complaints, no further insults, and no falling sounds.  In fact, when she looked down to take hold of a rock, she noticed his shadow, falling right over her hand.  Perhaps, she mused vaguely, he was a little bit more than he seemed.  If nothing else, the two men she had deigned to converse with were certainly full of surprises.

 

            Link chewed on his thumb, looking around the smoke-filled room.  His eyes watered and burned from the intense incense and a certain level of disgust.  Perhaps he was a bit old fashioned, but he sensed something distinctly foul about these gentlemen beyond their suspicious faces.  The way they looked at the Gerudo women made him sick.  He tried as hard as he could not to let his imagination wander too wildly, but nevertheless, he could not escape certain smarmy images.

            Carefully, he made his way through the room.  None of the men seemed to pay him much attention.  He supposed they took him for just another traveler who had stumbled upon their good fortune.  The Gerudo women that took note of him merely glared and scurried away, perhaps before he could issue a command that was not to their liking.  At the very least, this confirmed his theory about some kind of spell.  Sapphia was probably right, too.  It was probably the work of the Twinrova sisters.  What didn’t make sense, as far as Link could tell, was that there didn’t seem to be any kind of motive.  The sisters wanted the Topaz.  Link did not see how this particular spell would get it for them.  He could only assume, therefore, that the spell served another purpose.  Was it a distraction?

            “Well done, ladies,” Link mumbled under his breath.  It seemed that Koume and Kotake knew him only too well.  As hard as he tried to detach himself from his past heroics and from adventure, they had so brilliantly calculated that Link would feel honor bound to help, which he did, that he would put his quest for the other Shards aside to end the spell.  He smiled grimly, half admiring their shrewd planning.  Still, there remained a question.  If this spell was the bait, where was the hook?  Was it Ari?  He was impressive, but Link was fairly certain he could easily take the street thug, if it came to fisticuffs.

            Link turned around and immediately barreled into the person behind him.  The two of them tumbled to the ground, accompanied by the clatter of silver and the splash of dark bloodwine.  Disentangling himself from delicate purple silk, Link found himself on top of a Gerudo woman.  She had dark hair for a Gerudo, interwoven with purple strips of linen.  Her build was slim and powerful, her well toned muscles displaying several light purple tattoos of Gerudo design.  Aside from her silk dress, she wore a purple headband around her forehead with a small, silver charm shaped like a crescent moon, which dangled between her eyes, immediately drawing attention to them.  And they were perfectly lovely.

            “Oh, sorry,” Link mumbled, quickly pulling himself up and away from her.  Somehow, the distance did not make him feel any safer.  She looked about ready to pounce.

            “Watch where you’re going,” she hissed.

            He leaned over and started picking up the fallen wine goblets, the bulk of the spilled wine being soaked up by his gauntlets.  “The incense around here is a little strong.  Is it always like that?”

            She snatched a goblet out of his hand, giving him a glare.  “No,” she said softly.  “Nothing’s been the same since…”

            “Since what?”

            Her eyes narrowed and Link feared, for a moment, that she would refuse to answer him.  “Since the men took over,” she said finally.

            “When was that?”

            “A few days ago.”

            Link frowned.  “What happened?”

            “We’re not exactly sure,” she told him, picking up the other flagons and arranging them on a silver platter engraved with the Gerudo symbol.

            “What happened?”

            “One minute, it was business as usual.  The next thing we knew, they were the ones giving the orders and we were obeying them.”

            “And you don’t know what caused this?”

            She shook her head, the linens in her hair giving off the faint scent of an exotic perfume that Link found particularly enjoyable.  “It just happened,” she growled, standing up again.

            He rose with her.  “Well, it’s probably a spell.”

            “A curse is more like it.  I wish they’d leave us alone.  I wish all pigs would leave us alone.”

            “Pigs?”

            “Men.”

            “All men?”  She didn’t reply, but only scowled.  Link pressed on.  “Look, my friends and I want to help you.”

            “You don’t want to help,” she insisted.

            “I do.”

            “You’ll end up just like all the others, taking advantage of us.  That’s what pigs do.  Roll around in their own filth.”

            “I’m not like that,” he said.

            “Sure you’re not,” she hissed.

            “What’s your name?” he asked.

            She turned away from him.  “Just forget it.”

            “Tell me your name!”

            A hand shot to her throat.  When she spoke, her voice was tight and strained, as if she didn’t want to speak at all.  “Kae’lee, daughter of Chava, first Beta of the Saber Tooth Pride.”  She glared at him and he realized that despite his best intentions, he had just given her an order.  “Satisfied?” she sneered.

            “Sorry,” Link mumbled.

            “I’m sure.”

            She was about to turn away from him again.  “I’m Link,” he blurted out quickly.  “Son of…someone.  An honorary Delta warrior of the Dragon Pride.”  He stepped carefully toward her.  “I’m here to help.”

            “Sure,” she said in a flat, dead tone.

            “Really.”

            “If you say so.”

            “I’m here with friends.”  He suddenly found himself babbling.  “The Betas from the Jaguar and the Kodiak.  They’re not here at the moment.  They’re looking for your Alpha.  And my other friends are out in the territory.  We’re not sure what they’re looking for, but they’ll find it.  That is, if they don’t kill each other first.  For some reason the two of them don’t seem to get along.  I think it’s because they’re harboring hostilities about their –”

            Kae’lee clapped a hand over his mouth.  “Now listen to me and listen good, piggy,” she said in a low, dangerous voice.  “I don’t care what you have to say.  I don’t care what any man has to say, think, hear, or smell.  You’re all a tribe of greasy, fat pigs who prefer a good roll in the mud to kindness and consideration and I would like nothing better than to see the whole lot of you gutted and twirling on a spit over a roasting pit with an apple stuck in your mouth and chunks of pineapple dripping down your bloated, pink, hairy, sides.”

            He blinked, completely stunned by this declaration.  True, he had heard such utterances from Mika, but never quite in such a rapid succession or with such vehemence.  He was spared the trouble of coming up with a reply, however.  From across the room, Ari’s rich voice interrupted their conversation.  “You there,” the local thug called, holding a hand out to Kae’lee.  “You’re pretty.  Come dance for me.”

            Wordlessly, Kae’lee shoved the serving platter into Link’s chest and crossed to Ari as the sitar music began to play a wild, distinctively Gerudo folksong.  Link followed after her, grabbing her arm and trying to pull her back.  “Why are you obeying him?” he asked stupidly.

            She wrenched her arm free with impressive force.  “I don’t have a choice,” she growled.

            “Come,” Ari called, opening his hand.  “Dance for me.”

            Link balled his hands up into fists on either side of his body.  “Leave her alone!” he cried.

            Ari raised a thin eyebrow.  “And you are?”

            “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” Kae’lee said at the exact same time.

            He decided to hear her instead of Ari.  “Well, you can’t do a very good job of fighting it in your condition,” he snapped.

            “My condition?” she repeated.

            “You’re under a spell.”

            “Thank you so much for reminding me,” she droned.

            “You can’t fight against him, but I can.”

            “I don’t need your help.”

            “Why are the Gerudo so stubborn?” Link exclaimed.

            “Dance for me,” Ari demanded.  Kae’lee seemed to be overcome by a great force.  She clapped her palms together over her head and started to dance, her hips swaying slowly from side to side, her head lolling back as though she were having some kind of graceful seizure.  Only her eyes seemed to remain within her own command and they glared angrily in all directions.

            “Leave her alone,” Link shouted at Ari.

            Ari pursed his lips together.  He gestured vaguely with a gloved hand to a few of the other men who were enjoying the company of a young Delta swallowing fire.  “Dispose of this annoyance,” he said lazily to them, never taking his eyes off of Kae’lee’s hips.

            Begrudgingly, the men rose.  There were three of them and they were all much larger than Link.  He imagined that he could easily take them all though.  None of them seemed to show any indication of formal training.  They didn’t carry swords or poles or any visible weapons.  Link was fairly certain he could easily dispatch of them.  He squatted down, preparing to take full advantage of a lower center of gravity than these goons, but suddenly, he saw Ari reach out and run a hand down Kae’lee’s thigh.  “Hey!” he cried indignantly, standing up again.  At once, the thugs grabbed him under the arms.  As Link kicked and screamed, he was helplessly dragged out of the smoky den by three men who should have proven no real threat.

 

            Nebekah and Sapphia made their way silently through the hallways of the Saber Tooth fortress. At first, Nebekah had resented Sapphia’s unwanted company, but she decided to make the best of things.  This was an occasion to learn quite a bit, after all.  Nebekah used this opportunity to assess Sapphia’s skills.  She certainly seemed a capable warrior, well versed in the art of stealth and obfuscation.  Her skills even seemed comparable to Nebekah’s, she admitted bitterly.  The two of them moved like twin shadows, sweeping through the corridors and avoiding detection without a hint of difficulty.

            Not that there was much to avoid.  They had not run into a single man since their quest for Nassan began.  A few sour-faced Delta warriors had passed through, but other than that, the hallways had been remarkably empty.  This could prove both a blessing and a curse, Nebekah thought as she moved alongside Sapphia.  On the one hand, it might make their work here easier, on the other, it left her with a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach as she wondered where the other Delta warriors could possibly be.  She hoped desperately they had fled before the spell could put them at the mercy of the men, but somehow, she doubted it.

            “I’ve never met Nassan,” Sapphia whispered.  “When I last visited the Saber Tooth, their Alpha was called Shaheen.  She was young.  What became of her?  Did she fall in battle?”

            “She had a daughter,” Nebekah answered tersely.  “The Saber Tooth feel that once an Alpha has children, she should step down.  The turnaround time is quite extraordinary.  Almost like everyone in the Pride gets a chance at being Alpha, regardless of bloodlines.”

            “Amazing how different we are,” Sapphia remarked.

            “Amazing,” Nebekah repeated dryly.  She glanced across the hall.  “There.  There’s the Alpha’s chambers.”  She pointed to a set of double doors.  Engraved in the stone was an image of an enormous tiger, setting on a pyramid of bones and wearing a crown.  Inlaid into the tracery were precious jewels, purple, the Saber Tooth color, arranged like the Gerudo crescent.

            Carefully, scanning from side to side in twin motions, the two Betas crept forward.  Without consulting each other, Sapphia knew to keep watch while Nebekah carefully grabbed an ivory doorknob and turned it.  She was gratified to hear a soft click.  The two of them slipped inside and shut the door.  The inside of the chamber was bathed in inky darkness, but they heard a raspy inhale at their arrival, followed by an all too still silence.

            “Alpha Nassan?” Nebekah called tentatively.

            “Who’s there?” a hoarse voice whispered.

            “Friends,” Sapphia said.

            “Are you alone?”

            “No men are with us,” Nebekah assured the voice.

            “I don’t know your voices,” it said.

            “We’re not of your Pride,” Sapphia said.

            “Who are you?”

            “Sapphia, daughter of Alondra, first Beta of the Kodiak Pride,” Sapphia recited proudly.

            “Kodiak?”

            “Yes, Alpha.  And I travel with Nebekah, daughter of Elena, first Beta of the Jaguar Pride.”

            There was a moment of silence before the voice spoke again.  “There is a table beside the door.  On it is a taper and flint.  Light it so I can see you.”

            Nebekah stumbled forward blindly, her hands groping in the darkness until they discovered the edge of the table.  “We came on an urgent quest,” Nebekah explained as she searched for the flint. 

            “What sort of quest?”

            “The Twinrova sisters have returned from the dead,” Sapphia explained.  “They’re seeking to restore the Topaz.”

            “Why would they want to do that?”

            “We think it’s some kind of weapon,” Nebekah said.

            “Alpha Medea of the Orca Pride has charged our fellowship with assembling the Topaz before they can,” Sapphia continued.  “She believes that this weapon will be able to destroy the sisters.”

            “I see,” the voice said as Nebekah found the flint.  “And you’ve come to collect my Shard?”

            “We were hoping to approach you about it in the traditional way,” Sapphia told her quickly.  “But we see you have other problems at the moment.”

            “I’m afraid you have not found the Saber Tooth Pride under the best of circumstances.”

            Reaching out, Nebekah took hold of what had to be an oil lamp.  Her fingers ran along the smooth metal surface, seeking the taper.  “Well, of course, we want to help you,” she croaked.

            “That is very kind of you.”

            “We’re traveling with Medea’s Thin Blood daughter,” Sapphia said.  “And the Hero of Time.”

            “The Hero of Time?” the voice repeated.

            “He’s a friend of mine,” Nebekah told her as her fingers found the taper at last.  She began to strike the flint against it.  “He feels an obligation to undo whatever has happened to you and your sisters.  He’s quite noble and I assure you, will not cause any trouble like the other men.”

            “I’m not so sure about Tyro,” Sapphia added in sotto.

            A spark jumped from the flint to the taper and it immediately lit, filling the room with a soft, gold glow.  Nebekah and Sapphia had to shield their eyes for a moment, blinking and allowing themselves to slowly adjust to the abrupt change in illumination.  That done, they both turned and drew in identical gasps as they caught sight of Alpha Nassan.

            Nebekah would never have taken her for an Alpha, had she not known better.  The young woman had been stripped of all her finery, all indication of her rank and status.  She was on her back, tied to a chaise.  Two spears had been rammed into the ground on either side of her.  Linen strips were tied around each spear’s shaft and then bound to Nassan’s wrists, forcing her arms into a painful and permanent spread.  Her long red hair was matted and hard, sticking out at funny angles.  Exposed and unprotected, her body boasted dozens of purple and blue bruises as well as an assortment of cuts and scrapes that had been left untended and now seemed to be oozing with yellow puss.  Both of her knees were swollen and misshapen, perhaps broken, though it was impossible to tell.  Worst of all, the chaise itself was covered in dark brown and red stains.  Blood. 

            It was Sapphia who managed to compose herself first.  “Alpha,” she whispered, “what happened?”

            “I think,” Nassan said, “That should be very obvious.”

            “Who did this?” Nebekah asked.

            “Ari and his men.  My mother warned me not to be so trusting of men…”  Sapphia rushed over to Nassan’s side and reached out to untie the bounds holding her in place.  “No,” Nassan said quickly.  “Don’t untie me.”

            “Why not?”

            “Ari will know you were here.”

            “Alpha,” Nebekah said, “do you think that Ari was responsible for this spell that has you and your sisters obeying men?”

            Nassan laughed at this.  “No.  He’s just a thug who felt a swell of power in his belly when he realized that he could take advantage of our hospitality.  He and his men came here so he could attempt to win a Saber Tooth bride.”

            “I told you,” Sapphia said impatiently, “this has to have been the work of Koume and Kotake.”

            “Do you really think so?” Nassan asked.

            “Yes.”

            The Alpha sighed.  “To do such a thing to fellow Gerudo is animal,” she muttered.

            “Well, regardless of who is responsible, we’re going to fix it,” Nebekah told her.  “Somehow.”

            “Do that,” Nassan said, “and I will give you my Shard.”

            “Thank you, Alpha,” Nebekah said with a bow, crossing her wrists in front of her chest.

            “He’ll be easily disposed of,” Sapphia added.

            “Do not be so quick to believe that,” Nassan warned them.  “You may have noticed that many of my sisters are absent from the fortress.”

            Nebekah frowned.  “We did notice, actually.”

            Nassan nodded.  “Ari has sent them deep into our territory to the silver mines.”

            “He’s using them as slave labor?” Sapphia choked, clearly shocked by this development.

            “Yes.”

            “Wealth,” Nebekah spat, shaking her head angrily.  “Men are always seeking more wealth.”

            “You misunderstand me,” Nassan said.  “The silver in these mines is valuable, yes, but that is not why Ari wants it.”

            Sapphia wrinkled up her nose.  “Why does he want it?”

            “It’s not ordinary silver.  It’s Din Silver.  Once forged, it never breaks.  In the ancient days, the Hylians used this silver to forge gloves or gauntlets.  If someone wore these silver instruments, their strength was increased tenfold.”

            “Nabooru’s silver gauntlets,” Nebekah whispered softly.

            “Even in an unprocessed state, the silver can increase a person’s strength significantly.”

            “So Ari isn’t seeking wealth,” Sapphia sighed.  “He’s seeking power.  A way to get revenge on…someone.”

            “And judging by how long he’s had my sisters digging in the mines,” Nassan said, “my guess is that he already has it.”

 

            Link was thrown to the ground, landing on his tailbone.  A shock of pain ran through his spine, causing him to cringe.  The three goons laughed uproariously, standing around Link and enjoying his pain.  If nothing else, the pain had served as a sharp reminder, snapping Link back into focus.  As he looked up at his stupid, bloated captors, his mind began to form strategies for dispatching of them.  He angrily cursed himself for becoming distracted, but he would have to dwell on that some other time.  For now, he had to get back inside.

            “Yes, yes,” he said, slowly climbing to his feet and rubbing his sore bottom.  “I fell on my backside.  Let’s all have a good laugh about it.”

            “Oooh, this one likes to talk back,” one of the goons chuckled.

            “Do he?” a second scoffed.

            “Why don’t you show him what we do to punks who like to talk back, Joachim,” the third sneered.

            The first one, evidently named Joachim, stepped forward, pounding a meaty fist into his hand.  “I could do that,” he said.

            “Oh, please,” Link groaned, rolling his eyes.  “Could you be more of a walking cliché?”

            “I’ll get you for that,” Joachim snapped.

            “Get him, Joachim!” one of his companions shouted.

            “What’s a cliché?” the other, a skinny make with a narrow face, asked, scratching his head.

            “Put them up!” Joachim barked, holding his meaty fists in front of his body and swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet.

            Link took a step back, planting his hands on his hips and taking a wide stance.  “Come and get me,” he taunted the lackey.

            Joachim roared, leading forward and leading with his head as he charged at Link.  This was exactly what Link had been hoping for.  Easily, with the grace of a dancer, Link spun out of Joachim’s path.  The goon was running blind and completely unaware that Link had even moved.  He continued raging forward, cracking his skull loudly against the side of the fortress.  Link and the other thugs involuntarily cringed as they watched Joachim straighten out and dizzily stumble to one side, his eyes out of focus and spinning in his big, ugly head.

            Like a tree, Joachim tipped over and crashed to the ground, sending a cloud of dust up into the air around him.  After that, he was perfectly still, except for the steady, unconscious breathing that caused his gut to bob up and down, sagging out from underneath his filthy, wine soaked shirt.  Link raised an eyebrow.  “I guess he showed me,” he said.

            The skinnier lackey’s jaw fell open.  “You little…”  But the indignant lackey seemed to be at a loss for words.  He balled his hands up into fists, his face turning beet red.

            “Little what?” Link asked, genuinely curious to see what kind of barb this individual could come up with.

            “I’ll get you for what you did to him!”

            “I didn’t do anything,” Link said calmly.

            The second lackey charged, this time keeping his head up and his eyes trained on Link.  Unlike Joachim, who was bull-like and meaty, this particular goon seemed wirier and certainly smaller.  Link reached out, planting a hand on his opponent’s head.  The minion growl and barked, swinging his arms uselessly, out of range of Link.  Under normal circumstances, Link probably could have held out, waiting for him to wear himself out, but Link reminded himself that there was still a third to contend with and that he couldn’t become immobile for that length of time.

            “Let me at him!  Let me at him!” the raging goon cried.

            “This,” Link said instructively, “is a cliché.”  And with that, he released his hold on the other man’s head.  The goon fell over, face first into the dust.  Link swiveled around and planted a foot on his backside, grabbing one arm and pulling it into a half nelson behind his back.  Still, his opponent squirmed and writhed, determined to somehow get revenge on Link for felling Joachim.  He gnashed his teeth and wriggled, craning his neck to try and bite Link’s ankle.  Link delivered a swift kick to a particular soft spot on the back of his skull.  Instantly, the second thug fell unconscious, getting a face full of dust.

            Link turned around and immediately felt dismay.  He had hoped that the third minion would be just as stupid as the other two, but he quickly was disillusioned.  The third, a rather good looking Human with red hair, had drawn a pair of knives from the depths of his long, ostentatious jacket.  “It’s just you and me now,” he said, grinning gleefully.

            “Great,” Link replied, reaching over his shoulder and drawing his own blade which had mercifully remained in the sheath throughout the ordeal.

            The flunky surged forward, both of his knives pointed at Link’s chest.  Link batted them to one side with his sword then swung back at the enemy’s shoulder.  Quickly, the goon crossed his knives, catching the blade in the V they formed.  He grinned, clearly pleased with himself for managing to render Link’s sword temporarily useless.  Link shrugged and kicked his foot forward, slamming the bottom of his boot into the other man’s chest.  Instantly, he dropped the knives and fell over.  He tried to roll over and climb to his feet, but Link kicked him down again, planting a foot on his back and placing the tip of his sword directly behind his neck.

            “I wouldn’t,” he told him fiercely.

            Suddenly, the sound of clapping rang out sharply across the lawn.  Link turned and saw Ari standing in the doorway to the fortress, clapping his gloved hands with a look of decided admiration.  “Well done,” he said serenely.

            “Are these your best men?” Link asked coldly.

            “They were,” Ari admitted mournfully, “but I’m in the market for something a little better.”

            “Really?” Link snorted.

            “Kindly get off of him.”

            Reluctantly, Link removed his foot from the third lackey’s back and stepped away.  The dusty man growled, pulling himself to his feet.  “Why I ought to –”

            “That will be all, Henrik,” Ari interrupted, dismissing the angry goon with a wave of his hand.  “See to the others.”  Begrudgingly, the other man, apparently named Henrik, obeyed.  Ari turned his full attention on Link now.  “Tell me, my friend, what is your –”

            Link cut him off.  “I’m not your friend.”

            “Not yet,” Ari said, apparently completely nonplussed by the interruption.  “But you can never have too many friends.”

            “I prefer quality to quantity.”

            “And you certainly are high quality, my friend,” Ari purred.

            “If you say so.”

            “What’s your name?”

            “Link.”  He knew it was a risk, giving his real name.  Link, however, was banking on the fact that Ari was a foreigner to Hyrule.  There was a chance that he didn’t know the Hero of Time.

            “I see,” Ari repeated, apparently confirming Link’s suspicions.  “Well, Link, you’ve managed to dispose of my three best men.”

            “It wasn’t that difficult.”

            “I noticed.  Your skill far exceeds theirs.  Tell me, would you be interested in a job?”

            He blinked.  “A job?”

            “I’m in need of guards with your superior skills.  I would like to take you on as one of my own.”

            “You think that I’d want to work for you?”