Among the Ashes Chapter 54

Among the Ashes


Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping

Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time
Don't say: We have come now to the end
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again

What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home
~Annie Lennox “Into the West”

Chapter 54
Setting Sail



Ciara slammed her door shut and threw her back against the wood. She exhaled with a sharp gasp, letting Manasa’s body burst through her skin.

Not him. She panted, leaning over her knees. He’s dead. I killed him.

Her breathing increased and she started shaking again, trembling as she drew her arms around herself.

I killed him. Her shoulders heaved with a suppressed sob and curled over herself.

He’d probably smiled when the cannon smashed through his skull, knowing she’d finally done it.

Manasa cringed around her own unbearable body, bending down to pick up her bag. Her trembling fist grasped the side and she dragged it heavily across the floor then collapsed on her bed. She hid her face in the pillow, sobbing tears she didn’t know she had left to cry.

Half-blinded through the haze of moisture in her eyes, she leaned over the side of the mattress and fumbled in her pack. She reached down to the very bottom, pulling out the tattered pictograph of Marth, and the strip of cloth she had saved from his tunic.

She twirled the cloth around her fingers, then scrunched back up against her pillow. Her eyes roved over the picture of the face she loved, and she set it on the mattress beside her pillow, right where she could see his eyes. She tried to remember him smiling, not the way he’d looked when she’d driven him from the room, or slammed the door in his face.

Her shoulders shook and she shut her eyes with a tight, squeaking sob. She drew her cloth-bound fist to her nose, inhaling his scent. It wasn’t as strong as it used to be. Not as warming as sitting in his arms, listening to his laugh shaking though her body, watching his dark eyes crinkle at the edges with a smile. Hearing him say her name.

Manasa shuddered and pressed herself more deeply into the bed. She’d slammed the door in his face. When what she wanted more than anything was for him to come back in.

An impulse shot through her veins and she sat up, flying back to the door. She wrenched it open, peering out into the empty hall. Marth’s door stood across the corridor. Shut.

Manasa shrunk back into her room, her hopeful heartbeat falling back down. But her eyes caught another door, further down the hall. The door the strange, staring man from the lobby had vanished into.

Her heart started to pound again.

She knew – she knew he wasn’t Navarre. She couldn’t feel that darkness from him, choking off her breath from a mile away. He couldn’t hide that from her, no matter what disguise he wore. Nothing could change what he is.

Was. She corrected herself with a shudder.

But she could feel something. Something in his stare, in his voice, in the look in his eyes. Like he could see right through her. And already knew.

She stared at his door for a moment, waiting. A cold chill ran up her spine, as if he were watching, right now. She froze, her eyes darting to Marth’s door. She wanted nothing more in the world than to see him walk out of that door right now. Come back into her room and sit with her. Just be there. Close.

But the door didn’t open. And she couldn’t go to him. She didn’t know how.

Her heart jolted and she jammed the door shut, locking it behind her. With tears welling back up in her eyes, she crawled into her bed, cuddling up again with her pillow. She drew the strip of tunic back to her nose, and settled the pictograph once again beside her pillow.

If she half-shut her eyes, the shadow of the bag propped up against the side of the mattress almost looked like his shadow. She breathed in against the strip of cloth, and closed her eyes. Almost.

But not really.

Manasa slid her eyes shut, closing herself in darkness, and waited.





*****





Silence fell in the hall outside the door, and Roy waited for Marth to barge back in. Take over his little corner and shoot Roy dirty glances, like he didn’t even belong in the same room as Elice.

Cuz I don’t. Roy glared down at his hands, spinning his mother’s silver ring between his fingers.

His eyes flicked up to Elice’s still form, sleeping on the bed just a few feet away. He craned his neck up from his position on the floor, but he couldn’t see her face. Just a vague bump beneath the blankets.

He looked back down at the ring, rotating in his fingers. The light swirled over the surface, expanding then drawing together in a slow, hypnotic pattern. His eyes unfocused as he stared, blurring into a slow swirl of light and movement.

The minutes passed in the same drawn-out haze of the last twenty-four hours. A day. It felt like an eternity since he’d last seen her – the way she was supposed to be. Not like this.

He just wanted her back, and to know she’d be okay. Despite his efforts to push away the gnawing, ever-growing fear of what would happen when she woke up, visions of his nightmare kept creeping into his head. But finally knowing, either way, would be better than this. Better than sitting on the floor, hour after hour, watching her lie there, helpless and alone with nothing to do but wait.

A sharp, heaving breath caught in his throat and he winced. He pulled the open collar of his shirt out and glanced down at his chest. The bruise wasn’t that bad – not nearly as bad as it should be for having been smashed across the chest with a wooden bar stool. No broken ribs this time, at least. Though, sometimes, when he breathed in too deeply, he wondered.

His eyes narrowed even more severely, etching a strained crease across his brow. He didn’t want to think about last night again. Or his dream. Or the docks, or the warehouse, or the glaring red welts on her wrists – or anything. He just wanted Elice – like this had never happened.

Roy ducked his head again and shut his eyes. He pressed his palms to his face, pushing back the inescapable image of Elice’s pale, broken face when Link had passed her into Roy’s arms.

No one knew what had happened to her. No matter what Zelda thought or what Link and Marth had said. No one had been there. No one knew.

A flash of heat swelled up in chest and he clenched his fists. But the searing heat against his ribs and the flash of pain it caused brought on a tempering burst of guilt. He gritted his teeth and forced the heat back with a small, pained grunt in the back of his throat. He closed his eyes again and clutched the ring in his fist more securely, breathing slowly and with deliberation.

But a soft sound a few feet away broke through his concentration. He heard it again, and his heart skipped a beat. His head shot up to see the blankets hanging from Elice’s bed shift with her slow movement as another weak mumble escaped her lips.

“Elice?” He gasped, scurrying to his feet. He pushed up off the floor and moved to the side of her bed, his heart pounding against his chest.

“Mm…” she groaned, her brows knitting feebly as she tried to roll to her side.

“Licey?” he whispered again, fighting off a rush of panic.

Just a dream… just a dream, he kept reminding himself. But when he reached out his hand for hers, he couldn’t stop from cringing away. His fingers curled and jerked back before he touched her.

“Roy?” Her dry, listless voice cracked breathlessly in her throat and she barely got the word out, though he could feel the strain behind it.

“I’m right here.” He fell to his knees beside her bed. His fingers itched, wanting to touch her. He clawed his nails into her blankets and swallowed a tight lump in his throat.

“My Licey….”

Her eyelids flickered, squinching shut, then fighting to open over her eyes. He caught a faint hint of blue, but she blinked again, unable to focus. Her hand twitched faintly, and her lips moved, trying to speak.

“It’s okay, Licey,” Roy’s soft voice broke and he blinked his stinging eyes. “I’m right here.”

Elice’s brow raised sleepily, and she tilted her head to the side, towards the sound of his voice. She slid her arm across the bed, so slow and helpless that he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see.

“Roy?” she called again, her voice unable to carry the desperation behind her plea. “Where… are you?”

Roy’s chin quivered and something burst inside of his chest. He fell forward and clasped her hand, drawing it close to him.

“I’m right here.” He bowed his head toward the mattress and kissed her fingers. Her hand twitched in an effort to hold him, and he pulled her closer.

“Oh, I missed you.” He kissed across her knuckles, curling their hands to reach his lips to her fingers. “Elice – ” he barely noticed the tears in his eyes. “Don’t leave me again.”

His shoulders shook and he dropped his brow against their hands.

“Roy – ” A whimper caught in her throat and she turned more fully on her pillow, her other arm crawling across her stomach, reaching out for him. A small, undistinguishable cry slipped through her lips, and her eyes scrunched tighter, then forcefully slid open.

Roy wept against her hands, hiding his face in an attempt to make it go away but he couldn’t stop.

“Don’t go,” he begged. “Elice, you can’t leave me again. You don’t know….”

He bowed his head deeper, pressing their hands between his brow and the mattress.

“H-hold,” she whispered, her hand straining towards him.

Roy lifted his head, his heart thundering as he looked into her fearful eyes. She blinked, and a tear trickled down her cheek.

“Roy,” she pleaded again.

Before the word left her mouth he lurched forward, crawled onto the mattress beside her, and gathered her into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “Elice, I’m so sorry.” He clutched her, burying his face against the crook of her neck in the thick depths of her hair. “I love you.” He kissed her through her hair. “Elice, I – ”

Roy broke down against her, curling around her as she sank into his arms.

“Hold me,” she whispered. Her quiet sobs shook through his body, her hands clawing the back of his shirt with ever-increasing strength. “Roy don’t – ” She shivered and pulled him closer. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not.” He pulled her body across his chest and his shaking hand crawled up, holding fast to the back of her head. He stroked her hair, then cupped his hand again, pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me… don’t leave me….” She pleaded in a small, desperate voice that didn’t even sound like her own. Her trembling fingers clawed at his back, knotting in his shirt. “Roy….”

Elice shut her eyes, crying on his shoulder with every bit of strength she had left in her body.

“Shh….” He cradled her head and rocked her gently, back and forth against his chest. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you, ever.”

“Roy…” she breathed through her tears.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against her ear. His heart raced with a new-found strength he knew came solely from having her back in his arms.

“Roy.”

He closed his eyes and breathed in against her hair. The room fell still but for Elice’s tears, and the cold, crisp patter of the raindrops against the windowpane.

“I love you,” he breathed, filling his lungs with her scent.

Elice’s hands wound around his neck as her breathing slowed and her heavy eyes fell shut.

Roy nestled against her, feeling whole again like he didn’t know was possible. She fit against every part of him, soothing his pain as quickly with her return as she had wrought it with her absence.

“Roy….” Her voiced faded into the darkening shadows of the room. “Hold me.”

His arms tightened obediently. Nothing would make him let go.





*****




A quiet knock came at the door, and Manasa jerked her face up from the pillow. The walls shuddered against another blast of wind, and she looked up at the darkened window to see the rain pelting the glass with renewed fury. Somewhere along the way the clouds had swallowed the sun completely, leaving it as dark as night outside, though it still must be only early evening.

The door rattled with another knock, and she slipped from the bed, melding into Ciara by the time she reached the door.

“Who is it?” she called, her voice cracking drowsily.

“It’s me.” The muffled voice sent a shiver up her spine. Her heart pattered, and she quickly unbolted the lock.

Manasa yanked against the swollen wood, lurching the door free with a creak. She held her breath as the small crack opened wider, revealing Marth, standing just on the other side. Her eyes darted to his, and she swallowed roughly.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said gently, with an edge of tension as clear in his voice as she could see it in his eyes. “But it’s getting late and,” he held out his hands, bearing a bowl of rice and bread, “I thought you might be hungry.”

Manasa glanced up at his eyes, then back to the food. Her stomach rumbled loudly, and she suddenly realized that she couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten.

“Thank you.” She held out her trembling hands and he passed the bowl to her, carefully avoiding her touch.

He lingered a moment, looking at her, then dropped his eyes to the floor and took a step back.

“Are you eating?” she burst. Her heart jumped up into her throat, and lodged there, throbbing with every beat.

Marth stood still and looked back up. “Yes.”

She leaned her half-hidden body against the door to keep her steady.

“Alone?” she barely whispered.

“I don’t have to,” he replied warily.

“Um.” Manasa pulled the door open a little wider, keeping her body hidden behind it as she moved. “You could….” Her eyes darted back to his momentarily.

He stayed rooted in place. “Are you sure?”

She nodded anxiously, conveying what she couldn’t with words, and pulled the door open fully. Marth hesitated a moment, then followed her inside.

Manasa started back across the room, and Marth moved to shut the door.

“Wait,” she said, so quickly that he jumped with his hand on the knob.

Manasa lit the lantern on the small table, filling the room with glowing light. She lingered a moment, then turned back to him.

“Okay.” She scratched her arm absentmindedly, then picked up her bowl and sat down on the side of the bed.

Marth stood by the doorway, his hand clenched around his bowl of food. He glanced around nervously, then slowly moved to the thin wooden chair beside the table. His eyes darted to hers, as though checking to make sure it was all right.

Manasa let her breath out, slipping back into her own body with a rush of relief.

“You… don’t mind?” She looked up from her rice.

“No.” He shook his head quickly. His voice fell. “Not at all.”

He watched her for a moment, then looked down to his bowl, taking a careful bite. Manasa took another filling breath, sinking a little deeper into the mattress, and took a bite from her bowl. The hot, sticky rice hit the bottom of her painfully empty stomach, and she shoveled in another spoonful.

“Where did you get this?” she asked quietly between bites.

Marth swallowed, and looked up. “Link and Zelda. Brought back some supplies so we can lie low until the ship leaves.”

“Mm.” Manasa nodded, and looked back down at her half-empty bowl.

She pushed the rice around for a moment, then picked up her biscuit. It was warm and soft, and felt good sliding down her throat to fill the void in her stomach.

Marth finished his bowl and set it aside. He clasped his hands and leaned over his knees.

“Elice woke up this afternoon.” He lifted his eyes to Manasa’s.

“Really?” Her heart jumped and she shifted slightly beneath his gaze, wishing he wouldn’t look at her so anxiously.

I did slam a door in his face, she reminded herself with a cringe, and looked back down at her food.

“How is she?” Manasa asked. Bonds of tension squeezed around her heart again.

Marth dropped his eyes as well.

“About as I expected,” he replied finally, rubbing his hands together with slow deliberate motion. “She has a fever, but Zelda checked her over and says it will pass.” His voice strained and he ran his hand back through his hair, tousling it roughly before he let it fall back down over his eyes.

He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed at his eyes. “I left her with Roy.” He spoke, his voice muffled through his fingers.

Manasa’s stomach churned nauseously. She dropped her last bit of bread back into her bowl and set it aside, her appetite completely gone.

“I’m sorry.” She wrung her hands in her lap.

Marth lifted his head, his eyes searching hers.

“Oh, no,” he said quickly. “Manasa, it’s not your fault – I know it’s not your fault.”

She blinked and turned her eyes to the ceiling, trying to force back tears. “If it weren’t for me – ”

“She might not be here at all,” Marth finished.

Manasa shut her eyes and nodded miserably. She ran her fingers hastily across her wet cheeks, then stared down at her knotted hands.

“It’s just – ” Marth started again.

She could feel the desperate need to talk ringing through his voice. Her eyes lifted as she listened.

“She won’t talk,” he said, his voice dangerously close to cracking. “That’s kind of normal for her, I expected it,” he rushed, “but… she doesn’t even want me in the room. She won’t even let me see her. She just says his name, over and over, and won’t let go of him. She won’t eat, she won’t talk. Nothing else. She just wants him.”

“Well,” Manasa shifted nervously, “she loves him.”

Marth nodded slowly, but his shoulders shook and he dropped his face to his hands again.

“It’s not easy to stop being the one who takes care of her,” he said softly, but Manasa knew he was crying. “She used to come to me for everything. Now, she doesn’t even want me around.”

Manasa sat still, watching the gentle shaking of his shoulders, and the soft sound of his tears. She didn’t know what to say, but her heart ached just to touch him again. Her fingers dug into the blankets as she sat in helpless silence.

The mattress springs coiled then sprung with a rusty creak as she pushed up to her feet, and slowly crossed the room. She reached her hand out, her fingers trembling as they drew near. Manasa closed her eyes, held her breath, then pressed her fingers to his shoulder, and slid them gently across his back.

His muscles fell loose beneath her touch. He sighed deeply with a shudder, sinking beneath the lightness of her hand. Still not daring to breathe, she wound her arms slowly around his shoulders, and pressed her cheek to his back.

“She’s lucky to have you,” she whispered, letting go of her breath and her tears at the same moment. She turned her nose against his shoulder blade and squeezed a little closer.

The trembling of his tears faded beneath her and let his hands fall. His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply, then slowly turned in her arms. Manasa held her breath again as he moved. He carefully wrapped his arms around her, and she exhaled tremulously against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” His embrace tightened faintly as he drew in his breath. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s not your fault.” She clutched him closer, and nuzzled her nose into his shirt.

“I would never hurt you like he did,” Marth promised.

“I know.” Her voice tensed then fell to less than a whisper. “I know you.”

Manasa paused, just taking him in.

“It’s just so hard to remember sometimes,” she quivered in his arms, “when I can’t forget him.” She sobbed, and clutched at his shirt.

Marth pulled her closer and rubbed her back soothingly, not saying a word. Gradually her tears quieted and she fell still against him. With her eyes closed, she breathed in against him, inhaling a concentrated burst of comfort that only he could bring.

“It’s getting late.” Marth broke the silence with his low, gentle voice. “I should go.”

Manasa stirred unwillingly, and lifted her head from his shoulder. She glanced at the rain, glistening against the pitch-black window.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, holding him desperately as she buried her face back against his neck. “I hate this place.”

“One more day.” Marth pushed back lightly, placing his hands on her shoulders. “After tomorrow we’ll leave all this behind.”

Manasa nodded weakly, but the cold void his absence left in her heart had already started to creep back in.

“Do you want me to come back in the morning?” he asked. She hated the look of apprehension she had placed in his eyes.

“Yes.”

“All right.” Marth cupped his hand tenderly to the side of her head. “I’ll come back, I promise.”

“Okay.” She took a step back and wiped the dried, salty residue of the tears from her cheeks. “Can you do me a favor before you go?” she asked as Marth got to his feet.

“Anything.” He smiled.

“Can you fix the bed?” She pointed to the snapped leg at the end of the bed. “It’s all wobbly.”

“Oh.” Marth arched his eyebrows, then they fell again with a weak laugh. “Sorry about that.”

“You didn’t do it,” she replied with half a smile.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, looking around for something to brace it with. “I kind of did.”

“How?” she asked.

“Oh, I uh…” Marth hesitated, glancing around the room. “Kicked it last night and broke it.”

“Really?” Manasa raised her eyebrows.

Marth crossed the room and ran his fingers over a strip of half-peeled molding from the wall. He grabbed hold of the end and snapped it free.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I can use it to prop the leg,” he explained, kneeling down to slide the strip of wood beneath the broken bed.

“Really, Sunshine. Vandalizing inn rooms?” She watched him, her heart pattering warmly. Such a little thing, helping her with this, meant so much.

“Just one room.” He jerked on the leg to make sure it didn’t wobble, then looked up with a smile. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” She smiled softly.

“You’re welcome.” He stood up beside her, and they lingered for a moment, watching each other.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” The firelight danced across his face, lighting his warm eyes and his gentle smile.

“Goodnight.” She looked up at him, and her stomach flipped.

Marth reached out and touched the side of her head. His fingers ran lightly down a few inches of her hair, then stopped against her cheek.

She tilted her chin, and her eyes slid shut in anticipation. He hung on longer than she expected. Her heart fluttered as she waited, but his hand fell away, and he took a step back.

“Goodnight, Manasa.” He turned and slipped quietly through the door.

Her lashes fluttered and she shut her eyes with an unsteady release of her breath. A sharp stab of disappointed rang through her as she sank back onto her now-sturdy bed. She nestled into the pillow and buried her face against the fabric, smiling despite herself.

He was so good. So perfect. She should have known never to doubt him, or be afraid he wouldn’t understand.

Manasa snuggled under her blankets, feeling lighter and fuller than she had all day. One more day in Tren, and they would be gone. Leave this whole terrible place behind and the memories of everything that had happened here. Some of the worst moments of her life, and yet, among them, the very best moments she had ever had as well.

She could carry those with her, on the ship, to Valor, wherever they went. She would follow him anywhere, no question in her mind. There was nowhere else she could be, nowhere to go unless she was with him. Wherever that would take her, and however long it would last.

A little dark cloud settled over the beaming joy in her heart. She knew it couldn’t last forever. The Black Fang was already on their tail. Her little efforts bought them time, but not much. For all she knew they had already given up on her. Sent someone else.

Her heart lurched painfully, hammering against her chest.

The man from the lobby. And the hallway. Just a few doors down. There was something wrong with him. Something indescribably and undeniably off. The way he’d looked at her, staring, like he knew her. Like he knew what she was.

She swallowed roughly, and her mind raced in a furious panic, suddenly putting together the pieces.

He was it. Her replacement. Sent to finish what she’d started, and failed to do.

Her own words echoed on her mind. No games this time. Out for blood.

Manasa curled her fists, her fear boiling into rage. Not after everything she’d been through. Not now when Marth finally….

No.

She flew from her bed and threw open her pack, withdrawing the knife she had stolen just two nights ago. The gold inlaid sun glinted in the lantern light.

They’re not taking him from me.

Manasa clenched her fist around the knife, and vanished.

***

Dru shuffled across the floor of his darkened room and set his candle on the bedside table. The walls shuddered against another blast of wind from outside, and the candle flickered weakly. He threw back the covers and crawled beneath the sheets.

The floorboards creaked, and the shadows in the corner jumped, then thickened.

He sat up straight, choking back a gasp of surprise as a small, tightly coiled figure stepped into the firelight. The flames caught the shimmer of her dark hair and sparked a deadly flash of red in her eyes.

The man slammed back against the headboard, then scrambled from the bed, but not fast enough. Manasa’s eyes narrowed and she spun into oblivion, reappearing seconds later with her blades crossed like scissors, closing in around his neck.

“Ke-sai na!” the tiny, glowering figure bared down on him, hissing the words between her teeth.

“What?” He staggered backward, not taking his eyes from her.

“Ke-sai na,” she repeated slowly, deepening the growl in her throat.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” he pleaded, though he didn’t raise his voice.

“Ke na!” she demanded again, drawing the blades closer together.

He cringed, backing into the wall as she pressed closer.

“Wh-who are you?” he stammered.

“Exactly.” Manasa’s eyes twitched dangerously. Metal creaked against metal as she squeezed the blades against each other, closing against his neck. “Ha-ah nali tu?”

“Let me go,” he panted, straining his neck away futilely. “You’re making a mistake.”

“For once I’m not,” she seethed. “You think I don’t recognize your accent? I know a Saccaen Sentei when I hear one.”

Dru’s eyes widened and his throat bobbed. “What do you want from me?”

“Who sent you?” Manasa’s eyes narrowed to mere slits in the darkness. Her hands shook around the grips of her sword, but she kept her arms raised, crooked sharply at her elbows.

“I am just a fisherman. No one – ”

“Who?” she hissed. The blades closed around his neck on both sides, pressing to his skin.

“All right, all right!” he pleaded. “I’ll tell you!”

Dru paused, then his façade slipped away. Manasa’s grip loosened a fraction of an inch as she stared into the dark-skinned, red-eyed face before her. Dru twisted on his feet, and vanished into thin air.

Manasa cursed under her breath. The word faded instantly as she disappeared from the spot, following his tracks. Her feet hit solid ground and she lurched forward, knocking him from his second, even more feeble attempt at teleportation.

She slammed against him and he crashed into the side of the bed, then crumpled to the ground with a strangled cry. He writhed on the floor clutching his bandaged stomach, even as Manasa fell on top of his back.

“Who are you?” she demanded again, still not raising her voice. Her fist knotted in his thick, dark hair and she wrenched his head back to look at her, pressing her small knife close against his skin.

“Badru,” he panted, wincing in pain as she smashed his wounded stomach against the floor. “Badru – I am a Sentei.” His carefully hidden accent slipped through. “Krishna ra-nave,” he begged, straining away from the blade. “Please, don’t kill me.”

“You want to live?” She threatened with her knife. “You tell me the truth. Who sent you here?”

“If I tell you the truth you expect to hear, I’m dead. If I tell you the honest truth, you won’t believe me, and I’m dead again.” He breathed through his teeth. “Look at me! I am old. I am hurt. I couldn’t even make it ten feet across this room. I am nothing of a threat to you. I’m just a fisherman.” His voice fell again, though his breathing remained sharp and ragged. “Please.”

Manasa held her position for a moment, her eyes roving over her captive. Grey hairs speckled his dark head and she could see the winkles across his face. He was old. Out of shape. Without an inkling of threat in his dark, burgundy eyes.

She heaved a growling sigh and leaned back, pulling her weight from him as she released her grip on his hair. Her knife remained poised in her hand, looming over him as he cringed into his stomach. He paused, then slowly pulled himself into a sitting position.

“Why were you watching me?” she asked sharply, her eyes hard fixed on his. “How did you know what I am?”

“I saw you,” he panted, holding the bandage across his waist. “I was on the docks. I saw you on the ship, and when the human pulled you from the water.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So what?”

“So what?” He laughed weakly, flinching over his wound. “What you did was enough to grab anyone’s attention. And you have.” He nodded.

“What does that mean?” She jabbed the knife with a little punch.

“Everyone in the city knows about you and your escapades,” he answered. “It’s been years since any Sentei has dared move so openly and carelessly through Tren. And now two of you show up? Of course we wanted to keep an eye on you. You’ve had us all very worried. You pick the heat up, and it’s the rest of us who will suffer from blind witch-hunts and panicked fear.”

“We?” Manasa asked, her pulse picking up again.

“The others who work here, like me. Many of us have kept a careful low profile for years, and in one fell swoop you’ve threatened to ruin it for us all.” His eyes narrowed, looking angry for the first time.

“You think I’ve wanted any of this to happen?” She growled, her chest heaving. “I’m just trying to survive.”

“Who isn’t?” He raised his eyebrows slowly, his eyes softening again. “Why would I live in this filthy inn, six months out of every year, half of my life away from my wife, away from my children… if I had any other choice?”

Manasa’s eyes flinched, and she swallowed. “You have children?”

“Yes. My family lives in Saccae, in a peaceful settlement on the plains,” he answered.

“That’s a lie!” she shot back, the deep growl reentering her throat. “There aren’t any peaceful settlements left! The Saccaen barbarians destroyed them all.”

Badru’s brow creased. “And who told you this?”

“The Black – ” She cut off with a clench of her heart.

The wizened man across from her remained silent, though his eyes filled with understanding.

“We have run-ins with raiders now and then.” Badru spoke up tentatively. “But the Saccaen tribesmen have been nothing but supportive of our cause. We don’t bother them, they don’t bother us. And they have certainly never – ”

“Shut up,” Manasa snapped, adjusting her hold on the knife. “I know what they’ve done.”

He hesitated, his lips moving experimentally before he spoke. “Has it ever occurred to you that you may have been lied to?”

Her heart jumped, and she burst before she could stop herself. “And how do I know you’re not lying?”

Badru cringed away from her knife, breathing nervously. “I have no reason to lie to you. I’m not part of whatever quarrel you’re involved in and I assure you, I mean you no harm.”

“You mean me no harm?” she repeated. “You’ve been watching me, following me, staring at me from across the hall. What do you want from me?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” he insisted.

“Then why are you following me?” she demanded. “And Link and Zelda, you expect me to believe you meeting them was just an accident?”

“No.” He shook his head guiltily. “I was following them, too.”

“I suppose you gave yourself that cut, too.” She glanced down at the bandage on his stomach. “Nice way to gain their trust,” she accused.

“No,” he denied. “I was moving through the back streets, so they wouldn’t see me. I ran into trouble and they saved me. I owe them my life. I would never betray their kindness.”

“But me on the other hand?” she asked, her heart fluttering again.

“I have nothing against any of you,” he assured her, shifting his back up a little higher against the side of the bed. Manasa tensed as he moved, but dropped her knife a little when he fell still.

“Like I told your friend, it’s not often you meet decent folk around here, let alone a Sentei traveling willingly with a group of humans and Hylians. Helping each other.” His dark-lined eyes crinkled with a smile. “Honestly I couldn’t wait to meet you, and find out more about you. See if you needed any help.”

“I don’t need your help,” Manasa replied coolly.

She looked Badru over one more time, considering. Part of herself felt sick at what she knew she was about to do, but she couldn’t look into his eyes and believe he wasn’t telling the truth. Something about him still struck her. She found him unnerving at least, but not bad.

With a sharp release of her breath, she snapped her knife shut and pocketed it, taking a step back.

Badru stared at her, blinking in shock. “You aren’t going to kill me?”

Manasa’s narrowed eyes flinched, and her throat bobbed painfully. “I am not a killer.” Her small, faint voice almost pleaded. “I told you, I’m just trying to survive.”

Badru nodded, looking up at her with what she could only deem as pity. “That’s the most dangerous way to live, miss.”

“I don’t know any other way.” She shrugged her slender shoulders, her eyes burning with tears. With a final glance at the act of mercy that might be her demise, she turned away.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Badru called, stopping her in her tracks. “Many of us feel that way. Not nearly enough,” he added ruefully, “but we’re here. Working, making an honest living.”

“It’s not that simple.” Manasa turned her head back. Firelight glistened against the stream of tears running down her cheeks. “If I could have gotten out before… I wish they’d never found me in the first place.”

Badru watched her for a moment, then reached pain and pushed himself up off the floor with a weak grunt. “It’s never too late to change things.”

“Well, whether it is or not,” a sad smile tugged at her lips, “that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“Then may heaven be with you, child.” He put his hand on his heart and tipped his head.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “You, too.”

Manasa paused, just looking at him for another moment. “How many children do you have?”

Badru looked slightly shocked, but she could see the warmth grow in his eyes as he spoke. “Two little girls and a boy,” he answered. “My reason for living.”

Manasa nodded, not quite sure what else to say.

“Good luck to you,” Badru offered.

She twisted, and vanished from the room.





*****




“Ready to go, Zel?” Link poked his head back into their room, and spotted Zelda, kneeling on the floor, with an open pack at her side and items still strewn all around her.

“Zel!” He pushed the door open all the way and stared in dismay. “Honey, we’ve got to hurry. The ship’s not going to wait for us.”

“I know, I’m trying!” Zelda looked up from stuffing her knitting supplies in the bag. “We bought a lot of… stuff.” She shrugged and tried to jam the two tri-corner hats inside.

“Yeah, you did.” Link chuckled, and knelt down beside her. He opened the pack and held it for her to keep shoving things in.

“Did you find a good place?” Zelda looked up tentatively.

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied evenly. “The stable’s on the outskirts, out by the farmlands. It’s not nearly as bad out there. They had a pasture and the stalls were nice. She seemed to like it.”

He paused to grab a rumpled up cloak that lay beyond Zelda’s reach.

“They said they’d keep her as long as I needed. Two hundred rupees on the spot and then, depending on how long it takes for us to come back for her…” he trailed off.

“I’m sorry,” Zelda reached out and squeezed his knee. “I know how much Epona means to you.”

Link flexed his jaw and let out his breath.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “But, that’s the way it goes. We’ll be back for her.” He looked up with a bracing smile that Zelda returned. “They’ll take good care of her.”

Zelda nodded, and went back to twisting the pirate hats in an attempt to force them in.

“I think I might have to just wear mine.” She slipped it on and tilted her chin up to Link with a smile.

He chuckled and grinned back.

“Good idea.” He leaned forward for a quick kiss.

“Done!” Zelda proclaimed, tying the flap shut across the top of the pack.

“Now, who’s going to carry those things?” Link looked down at the two dangerously bulging packs.

“Well.” Zelda squeezed his thick arm muscles. “I must keep you around for something.” She grinned and pulled him into a hug. He gave her a strong squeeze. “See, I’m sure you can manage.”

“For you?” He kissed her again. “Not a problem.”

Link stood up and helped her to her feet, then hefted the two massive bags.

“You know, there was a time when I could fit practically everything I owned in my hat,” he mused as they walked out the door into the hall.

“Well, now you don’t have a hat.” Zelda rumpled his hair.

“I have a wife and two bags the size of a Goron each.” He flexed his arms beneath the weight of the packs.

“Even trade?” She shut the door behind them, and took his arm.

“I wouldn’t take it back.” Link smiled.

Marth stepped out of his room and pulled the door securely shut as he swung his pack over his shoulder.

“We ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Link replied. “Roy’s just waiting.”

Marth nodded, and knocked on Ciara’s door.

“Ready!” Ciara bounded out of her room and slammed the door blissfully behind her.

“You’re in a bouncy mood.” Marth grinned and took her bag for her.

“Yes!” She poked him in the chest. “Because we are leaving Tren!”

Ciara walked a few steps down the hall with a wave. “See ya!”

“Well, wait a second,” Marth chuckled, then turned around to push open Elice’s door.

“Ready to go?” he asked tentatively, glancing around the room.

Elice glanced up fleetingly from her position sitting at the foot of her bed, but her eyes fell quickly back to the floor. She took a sharp breath, and crossed her arms around her stomach.

“Yeah.” Roy spoke up from the corner, putting the finishing touches on their packs. He threw his over his shoulder and picked up Elice’s in the other arm. “We’ll be right out.”

Marth watched as Roy moved to Elice’s side. He crouched down in front of her and brushed her bangs back, speaking to her in such a hush that Marth couldn’t make out the words. Elice lifted her gaze to meet Roy’s eyes and nodded softly as he ran his hand down her cheek.

“Okay.” Roy’s voice rose just enough for Marth to hear. “Come here, Licey.”

Roy held out his hand and pulled Elice to his side. She curled into his arm as he draped it over her shoulder, holding her close.

“Let’s go,” Roy said dully, looking back to Marth.

Marth held the door open for them and the group filed down the hall. Manasa glanced once at Badru’s shut door, then followed Marth through the lobby and out onto the street.

They sloshed through the half-dried, mucky road and back onto the docks. The storm had all but blown over, leaving a thin, wispy layer of clouds across an otherwise blue sky. A soft, cool breeze tugged at their cloaks as they clomped over the planks, Link leading the search for the correct boathouse.

“Here.” He stopped in front of the door.

“You sure?” Marth asked, peering through the grimy, salt-encrusted window.

Link pointed at a symbol of a snake, smoking a cigar, emblazoned on the door. Marth rolled his eyes.

“Oh, goody,” he muttered.

Link pushed through the door, releasing a thick cloud of smoke from inside. Zelda coughed and cringed back. Link peered through the swirling gas and found himself face-to-face with the desk before he’d even made it into the room.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Snake lifted his arms magnificently, smacking his massive hands on the walls as he extended.

“A little cramped, isn’t it?” Marth sneered from the doorway.

“Not for long. You all are paying for a new addition!” Snake took a long drag, and blew the smoke out in Marth’s direction.

“Speaking of which,” Link interrupted. “I paid you half. I’m here to settle the debt and get our passes.”

“Right.” Snake twirled his cigar between his teeth as he rifled through a stack of papers. “You owe me two thousand rupees.” He looked up with a grin.

“No,” Link replied stiffly. “The price was two thousand five hundred. I paid you half. I owe you one thousand two hundred and fifty.”

“Look, the elf thinks he can do math!” Snake chuckled.

Link glowered, and gritted his teeth.

“Two thousand.” Snake leaned forward. “And you better decide quick because I think they’re leaving in about five minutes.”

Marth slammed his fists down on Snake’s desk. “We are through being swindled by you! We owe you one thousand two hundred and fifty and that’s what you’re getting!”

“Two thousand.” Snake leaned back and propped his boots on the desk, smearing mud across his paperwork.

Marth growled up at the ceiling and turned away. “Where did you find this guy?” he demanded of Link.

“Don’t blame me for this!” Link shot back.

“Can you please put that out.” Zelda coughed, her eyes watering from the noxious fumes of his cigar.

Snake twirled the cigar again with a smile. He looked from Zelda to Link, and slowly put the flame out in a pile of ashes on the corner of his desk.

Link pumped his fists, and threw a bag of money on the desk. “There. Two thousand.”

“What?” Marth shouted in horror. “No!”

“Look, I don’t care.” Link spun on Marth. “We are running out of time, now let’s just go!”

Snake sifted through the rupees. “You’re about five hundred short.” He glanced up. “For the no-smoking tax,” he added with a wink at Zelda.

“Why you filthy – ” Link lurched forward and grabbed a handful of Snake’s shirt in his fist.

“Oh-ho!” Snake laughed. “I finally hit a nerve!”

“Just break his face and let’s get out here!” Marth glowered.

“Oh, you want to fight?” Snake asked with a raspy chuckle. “Let’s all fight! You, me, the elf, even her!” He pointed at Zelda. “Let’s have at it! It’ll be a regular brawl!”

Link clenched his fist so violently that his knuckles cracked, threatening to smash into Snake’s face.

Snake went on laughing, glancing over the group. “I don’t think we want you.” He spotted Roy, standing huddled with Elice in his arms outside the door. “You look too sad. Besides, we have another blue-haired guy on board who can take your spot!”

“You do?” Ciara asked curiously.

“Samus?” Snake’s eyes widened. “What’s with your hair?”

Zelda’s fist curled and slammed into Snake’s jaw before Ciara could even react. Link let Snake free and he stumbled back into his chair.

“Now you listen!” Zelda screamed, stomping up to the desk. “This – ” she picked up his cigar and waved it in his face, “is disgusting!”

She turned and chucked it over the railing and into the sea, then whirled back on Snake.

“We’ve paid you more than enough. That ship is leaving, I don’t want to be here anymore and you are a jerk!” She shrieked in his face and he cowered back against the wall. “Now, give me my ticket!”

“Here!” He thrust them at her.

“Thank you.” Zelda grabbed Link’s hand and pulled him from the shack.

She tromped across the dock, still fuming, and led the way right up the gang plank.

“Tickets?” A burly man demanded as she and Link reached the railing.

Zelda slapped the tickets into his chubby hand, and pushed past, still dragging Link by his arm.

“Have I told you today that I love you?” Link asked, gazing at her with adoration.

Zelda smiled brightly, and leaned into his arm as they crossed the deck.

The others filed on behind them, just as the captain put out the last call for the railing to be shut.

Manasa lingered on deck, listening to the shouts of the crew, and the sounds of the ship coming to life. She leaned close over the railing, watching the waves lap against the side of the hull. A breeze played through her hair and she glanced back up, letting her eyes wander over the tops of the buildings in the distance.

“Ciara?”

Manasa turned to the sound of Marth’s voice.

“We’re going to find our cabins.” He motioned to a stairwell, still holding her pack.

“Okay.” She gripped the railing and looked back at Tren one last time before following Marth and the others below deck.

***

Badru awoke to bright sunlight shining through his window for the first time in days. He pushed back his covers and shuffled across the room to retrieve the shirt he had slung over the back of the chair the night before.

He slipped it on slowly, careful not to strain the tender muscles of his stomach. Before doing it up, he peeked beneath the bandages around his navel. The cut looked clean and dry, definitely on the mend.

Satisfied, he tucked in the hem and worked his way up the buttons along the front. A small bit of parchment on the bedside table caught his eye and he stopped. He moved forward and drew it to his eyes.

He started at a strangely lifelike picture of a tall, curly-haired blonde he recognized instantly. Curious, he flipped the parchment between his fingers to find three words scribbled across the back.

Thank you.
~Manasa

Badru’s stomach dropped, and he reread the short note over and over, staring at the words until he could be sure he wasn’t seeing things. But there was her name, printed in ink, right in his hands.

“Manasa.”




*****