Fortitude - Chapter 22

Xxx 22 xxX

Breathe. Inhale, exhale. It will pass.

I leaned my head against the hard stone wall, concentrating on my slow, deep breaths as I willed my nausea to subside. This seemed nearly impossible when the thick, stuffy air stank of vomit and other filth.

Being confined in constant darkness had distorted my sense of time, but judging by my meals—most likely one per day—I figured at least five days had passed.

Five days, and I'm already falling apart.

I wanted to believe I would show more resilience if not for my recurring nausea. I suspected Ashton had tampered with my food, to render me more "cooperative," but I had no evidence of this. The food I received was decent—far better than a high-security prisoner would normally receive. It was barely enough to ward off hunger pangs, which I felt whenever my nausea subsided, but it did provide enough nourishment to endure my sentence without serious consequence. I could only assume Ashton wished to preserve my appearance, so I could resume my role as his crown jewel without delay.

A thin layer of sweat clung to my skin, as did my damp, dirtied nightgown. My lips were chapped and my tongue dry, but I could not will myself to move—not without losing what little food I managed to keep down. My weakness disgusted me, but in that moment all I wanted was fresh air and a gentler surface to lie upon.

Link shared a dungeon with ReDeads, where he was starved, beaten, and tortured for weeks, and you can't survive five days just lying here. Pathetic.

I closed my eyes, suppressing the sudden urge to cry. I would have refused all the comforts in the world if only to restore the bond I once shared with Link. Nayru, to have such effortless communication, such instant ease of mind!

But we no longer had that luxury, and so my concern for Link had evolved into something more akin to panic. I could not dismiss Ashton's venomous words, and his ongoing alliance with the necromancer made Link's situation all the more dangerous.

"He has the markings of black magic all over him, but that hardly compares to what lurks within him."

Ashton knew Link's vulnerability, and I could do nothing.

You failed to find the staff, and now you can't even warn him. You're useless. Weak and useless.

I pressed my lips together, feeling tears streak my dirtied face. As much as I wanted to succumb to self pity, I refused to break down while the guards could hear.

My despair was cut short, however, when I heard the sudden rattling of keys. Immediately I wiped away my tears and straightened against the wall, expecting Ashton or Felix to appear.

An unfamiliar guard stepped inside, however, flanked by at least two others.

"Lord Ashton has grown... concerned about your health deteriorating during your confinement, and he has generously permitted you to bathe once every four days."

I stared at him, giving no response despite my inward relief.

"Your personal attendant will assist you here in your cell," he continued. "She has agreed to close supervision and strict conduct in order to carry out this task. The consequences of breaking her contract are dangerous, so, if you value her life, you will not speak of anything that might... place her at risk."

I gave a quiet sigh. Oh, Heather.

How much had she sacrificed, just to give me the comfort of clean water and brief companionship? Her compassion moved me, but I feared how deeply she had entangled herself in Ashton's sticky web.

The guards vanished back into the corridor, and slowly I rose to my feet, using the wall to steady myself. Then Heather entered my cell, her dark curls tied back with a cloth and her eyes soft with concern. She carried a small lantern in one hand and cradled a wrapped bundle with the other.

"My Lady," she whispered, placing her items on the floor and moving to take my hands. I clasped her fingers in response, unable to find my voice.

Behind a guard placed a bucket of water on the floor. "You have fifteen minutes." Then he left the cell and closed the door with a loud clang.

"Heather," I said softly. "You should not have done this."

"I could not let them assign someone to you," she insisted. "The others were so reluctant."

"Because they think I deserve this?"

"Because they fear Ashton. They know how... particular he is about you, and they don't want to be involved."

"You should not have gotten involved," I murmured. "...But I'm very grateful that you did."

She met my gaze, smiling gently, and weakly I returned it.

We worked quickly, knowing fifteen minutes was barely enough time to finish. I scrubbed my face and limbs while Heather washed my hair. The soapy water was lukewarm, but I welcomed its cool, cleansing touch. If not for my incessant nausea, I might have savored the feel of Heather's fingers massaging the grime from my hair. She worked gently but thoroughly, wringing out my locks in small sections before wrapping a long coronet around my head. Then she stepped away and turned her back while I finished, offering me privacy even within the confines of my cell.

"Ashton has been twisting the truth about your situation," she told me quietly. "He's been telling everyone that you attacked him, and that you need treatment for emotional instability."

I gave a frustrated sigh. "As if my reputation wasn't suffering enough."

"My contract says I must support his lies," she added softly.

"And I expect you to do so," I said firmly. "You will not place yourself at further risk to defend me - it won't do any good. There will be a time for exposing the truth about everything he's done—but not yet."

Once I had finished with the bathwater, I retrieved a towel and clean clothes from the bundle Heather had brought. Despite my lingering nausea, I felt as though a fog had lifted from my mind, and hurriedly I sought a way to take advantage of Ashton's "generosity"—without endangering Heather.

"These clothes are hardly suitable for a queen like yourself," Heather said as she fastened the buttons along the back of my plain brown dress, "but I tried to find something more comfortable—"

"Heather," I whispered, turning to grab her shoulders. "Heather, I must ask something of you—something very important."

She blinked, startled by my sudden change.

"Anything, my Lady."

"I need you to help me escape."

Her eyes widened, and for a moment I feared she would refuse.

"What can I do?" she whispered.

"I have an instrument—a sacred family heirloom with magical properties. If you bring it to me, I can use it to teleport outside the castle."

A look of amazement crossed her young features. "Where is it?"

"In my chambers," I whispered, near breathless with anxiousness. Speaking of such secrets unnerved me; but above all I felt the remnants of my fifteen minutes slipping away. "But you will need to use another item to find it. That item resembles a magnifying glass—you will find it in the trunk at the foot of my bed. The key is in my vanity, hidden beneath the bottom of the top right drawer. Search my vanity using that item, and you will find a secret compartment where I've hidden my instrument—a pale blue ocarina."

Heather parted her lips to reply—just as the cell door opened. Quickly she fell silent and began to smooth the wrinkles from my clothes, as though nothing had transpired.

"That's enough," the guard barked, grabbing her by the elbow. "Gather her clothes and get out."

She did as told, casting me one last glance before another guard forced her out of the cell. I watched them take the bucket of dirty water, struggling to calm my pounding heart. They left without another word, slamming the door behind them.

I stood there a moment, adjusting to the blackness, then released a slow, shuddering breath.

May the Sisters be with you, Heather.

xxxxxxx

The days passed slowly and painfully. Between the constant darkness, stuffiness, hunger, illness, and anxiety, I feared I would go mad before Heather returned. Over and over I reviewed my hurried instructions, fretting over the various obstacles she might encounter. I tried to convince myself I had given her an impossible task, and that she would return empty handed, but I could hardly stand the thought.

I was not simply pent up and restless. Prayer and meditation helped me overcome that, but neither could ease my anxiety over Link. Again and again Ashton's words rang through my mind, forcing my thoughts in all sorts of horrid directions. Had Link worsened since we parted ways? Had he withheld the truth of his condition, or was it a mystery to him as well?

Is he suffering terribly?

Will it kill him before I see him again?

These questions tormented me hour after hour, haunting me even in my sleep. Fatigue seemed to plague me as much as anxiety. That I slept so often might have been a blessing in my predicament, but my slumber was fitful and fraught with nightmares. Again and again I watched Link's scar spread and torment him, consume him, even kill him.

I knew these were merely dreams, not premonitions, but they terrified me nonetheless. Such a fate might still come to pass whether I saw a vision or not.

And so, in the suffocating gloom of my cell, I waited.

.

The metallic sound of my prison door opening broke through my slumber, and in my grogginess I huddled against the wall, blinded by the sudden torchlight.

"My Lady?" a soft female voice caressed my ears as the door slammed behind her.

I murmured incoherently, too sleepy to realize why she was there—and what she might carry. Concerned, she quickly moved to wet a cloth and pressed it to my face, dabbing away the sweat and dirt. Again I stirred, blinking in the lantern's glow before focusing on her.

"Heather," I croaked, feeling a rush of relief.

"I have it, my Lady," she whispered, her hazel eyes bright with excitement. "I've brought your ocarina."

Realization pierced through my drowsiness, and immediately I pulled away from the wall. "You have it?" I breathed.

She nodded eagerly, then stood and bent down to lift her skirt. Dazedly I watched her detach a small wrapped bundle from her thigh.

"I figured—hoped—that they would not search under my skirts," she whispered, handing me the bundle with a smile.

Hurriedly I unwrapped the soft brown cloth, my heart pounding as I felt the Ocarina's familiar shape. Finally the cloth fell away, and I cradled the pearly blue instrument in my dirtied, trembling hands.

"Heather," I said, hearing my voice catch, "...if you knew how desperately I needed this..." I looked up at her, resisting the urge to touch her face. "You have my deepest gratitude."

Heather shook her head, her face slightly flushed in the lamplight. "It wasn't all that difficult, considering I clean your chamber. And the guards think I'm too meek for such mischief." She gave me a bolder smile, which I returned.

We moved quickly, both of us anxious to hide the Ocarina before the guards returned. I ripped off my clothes and scrubbed myself red, but Heather managed to wash and braid my hair with the same gentle fingers.

"I will wait two more days," I told her, steadying myself against the wall as she wrapped the Ocarina against my thigh. "I want to make sure they don't suspect you."

She tied the cloth in place and smoothed my skirts, her brow creased with worry. "Please don't, my Lady. I would hate to be the reason you linger here for another moment, much less two whole days."

I gently took her arms, helping her to her feet and placing my hands on her shoulders. "You are the reason I won't be trapped here for weeks," I said, holding her gaze. "The least I can do is protect you."

She sighed softly. "If you insist."

I studied her another moment, suppressing a flutter of uncertainty.

"You must give them no reason to suspect you," I whispered. "Come on the fourth day as usual, unless they inform you otherwise. Feign surprise, ask if I have been released, but don't give any information they wouldn't already know. As far as they're concerned, I never spoke a word of this."

She nodded, and I could see the uneasiness in her face.

"I will return," I assured her. "I don't know when or by what means, but I will. I promise."

Again she nodded. "I know you will."

I drew her into a quick embrace, whispering my final thanks in her ear. I barely managed to step away and turn my back before the door bust open. Feigning indifference to her, I adjusted my hair while she gathered my dirty laundry. The soldiers snatched my bathwater and left without another word.

The door slammed shut, echoing through the dungeon. In the darkness I reached down to brush the Ocarina, whispering a prayer of thanks.

xxxxxxx

Two more days should have made an easy challenge, considering I had endured nine without the Ocarina's reassuring presence. But my sickness still came and went, and I failed to keep most of what little food I was given. Hungry and weak, I was anxious to preserve what little strength I had left. So I moved very little and slept a great deal, praying for the third day to come without further ailment.

Then, finally, a guard placed my daily meal on the floor near the door, marking my third day since Heather's visit. Slowly I crawled over to the bowl to find strew with a piece of bread in place of a spoon. Normally I ate my meals slowly, savoring the nourishment and passing the time. But that time I devoured it, driven by hunger as well as urgency.

Not bothering to finish every last drop, I pressed my hand to the wall and summoned my magic, carefully extending it along the walls of my cell. The spell never required much power, yet I felt myself tire as the magic climbed toward the ceiling. Fear clutched at my heart, but I managed to complete the spell. Turning my head toward the door, I then shouted to the guards.

"Guards, I need a physician!"

My voice came out weak and hoarse from lack of use, but still audible outside the cell. I paused and listened, my heart pounding against my ribs.

Nothing happened.

I called again more loudly, just to be sure, but received no response.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I quickly retrieved the Ocarina from beneath my skirt, struggling to untie the cloth with my shaking hands. Bringing the polished ceramic to my lips, I played a light, cheerful minuet. Instantly a rush of magic surrounded me, illuminating the cell before it carried me off far beyond the castle walls.

.

I opened my eyes—only to flinch and cover them again. Having been confined in pitch darkness for nearly ten days, my eyes were quite unused to the sunlight which flooded the Sacred Forest Meadow.

I sank down onto the plush grass and stretched out onto my back, absorbing the surrounding tranquility. Fresh, wonderful air filled my lungs, and a gentle breeze caressed my face.

I forced myself to relax a while, knowing I could not navigate the Lost Woods without a guide. The forest surrounding the meadow was an enchanted labyrinth—only the Kokiri tribe and their fairies could walk among the ancient trees without getting lost. Anyone else, myself included, was doomed to wander until death claimed them in some form or another. Link was the only Hylian immune to the Lost Woods' perilous enchantment, for he had been raised as a Kokiri and retained the protection of the forest guardian, the Great Deku Tree.

If Link or Saria did not visit the Meadow soon, I would have to teleport to Kakariko Village—where I risked being captured by Vandelians. It also placed me miles away from the Resistance camp, where I assumed I would find Link. To be so close yet unable to reach him was aggravating to say the least.

Stress began to eat at my thoughts, so I pushed them away, focusing instead on the dramatic change from my previous surroundings. I listened to the breeze rustling through the leaves, the sweet chorus of bird songs...

"...Zelda?"

I started and immediately sat up, stunned to find a green-haired girl—seemingly no older than twelve years—standing on the Forest Temple's worn stairs. A fairy, little more than a ball of light with wings, hovered above her head.

"Saria," I breathed, a smile warming my face. "Oh, thank the gods you're here—"

I had barely finished my sentence when she leapt off the stairs and ran to me, embracing me tightly.

Despite her youthful appearance, Saria was many years my senior. Kokiri lived far longer than Hylians, but physically they never aged a day past twelve. And while some Kokiri gained more maturity than others, they all retained a childlike innocence.

Saria was the wisest in her clan, and the Kokiri looked to her as their unofficial leader. She had taken Link from his mother's arms the day she died in the Great Deku Tree's meadow, and she had remained his primary guardian until he reached adolescence. She was the closest Link ever had to a mother, and she loved him dearly—as he did her.

"Zelda, it's been so long!" she exclaimed. "I've been so worried—what in the world has happened to you?"

"It's a long story," I sighed. "One I would be happy to share with you, but first I must speak with Link—is he at the Resistance camp?"

Saria's face fell as she slowly shook her head. "Link hasn't been in the camp for weeks."

My heart sank. "Weeks? Do you know where he's gone?"

Again she shook her head. "He left a while ago, and he's probably traveled all over Hyrule since then—but someone in the camp should know where to find him," she added quickly. "I assume, at least."

I caught the bitterness in her voice. All Kokiri were forbidden to interact with outsiders, for the protection of their isolated clan. As Sage of the Forest, Saria knew far more than her fellow Kokiri would never know, and the outside world was hardly a mystery to her. Still, she spoke with no outsiders other than Link, myself, and the Sages. I could imagine her frustration at being left to wonder about Link's well being, simply because she could not ask someone in the camp.

"Can you bring me to the camp?" I asked her. "I promise to tell you everything I learn."

Her face brightened, as did her fairy. "Of course I'll bring you there. But are you sure you can walk all that way? You look..." She hesitated, studying me with a troubled gaze. "You don't look well."

"I've been in a prison cell for nearly ten days," I said quietly. "I'm sure I don't look it, but I can walk; don't worry."

"Why were you in a prison cell?" Saria breathed.

"Ashton knows Link is alive, and he wanted to keep me quiet."

Her eyes widened. "How did he find out?"

I hesitated, unsure how much she knew about Link and the necromancer. "...I don't know, but I escaped so I could warn Link."

"We should hurry, then. I'm sure Ashton won't be happy once he finds out you're gone."

.

She led me on a winding path through the Lost Woods, asking questions and talking about the camp. Serving as a base for the Resistance, it mainly housed the soldiers Link had freed from the Vandelian fortress. A number of civilians had found refuge there as well—mainly those who struggled with poverty or fled the harassment of Vandelian soldiers. All the bare necessities—tents, pallets, blankets, food, and medicine—were available in limited quantities, and every day teams of soldiers left to recruit members or restock supplies.

Magical barriers encased the camp, protecting the residents from wandering too deep into the Lost Woods, and a small number of guards stood watch at various posts. Fires of any kind were forbidden, since the smoke could rise above the treetops and betray the camp's location. Lanterns lit the camp at night, and all meals were prepared in Goron City. Anyone who entered the camp agreed to remain there until the war ended—or until winter forced them to disperse.

In return I shared select information about my life at the castle. I began to suspect she knew nothing about Link's scar, and that he had withheld that information for her protection. Much as I disagreed with his decision, I respected his wishes and remained silent on the matter.

I was glad to let Saria do most of the talking, as my nausea had returned yet again. More than once I was forced to stop and rest—much to her concern—but I managed to keep going without an embarrassing scene.

Eventually we reached a clearing with a stone archway—a portal which led to Goron City.

"I can't go any further without being seen," Saria whispered. "But you should see a guard if you keep heading in that direction." She pointed beyond the archway, and I saw the faint glow of a lantern through the trees, barely visible in the daylight.

I nodded. "Thank you. Meet me here later and I'll tell you what I find out."

A smile warmed her young, ageless features. "Thank you, Zelda. But don't worry about me. You take care of yourself first."

We shared a quick embrace before I rose and started toward the lantern. A few steps later I felt my dizziness return, much to my frustration.

Nayru let them have some form of medicine for this…

Soon I caught sight of a young man dressed in leather armor—a guard of sorts, judging by his stance. Within seconds he saw me and hurried toward me, shouting for me to halt. I did as he asked, catching myself on a tree as my vision swerved.

"What is your name, Miss?" His voice echoed over the pounding in my ears.

I tried to respond, but the ground suddenly flew toward me. A firm hand caught my arm, slowing my fall before everything went black.