Link rose with the dawn’s light to see Brigo already up and preparing for their departure. He did not dally, but rather pitched right in to help his friend break camp.

Their conversation the previous night had only strengthened Link’s trust in the patrolman. Brigo had indeed been taken aback by his tale, but not once did he doubt its truthfulness.

“If yeh say yer the ruddy hero wot escorted Princess Zelda and fought Ganon with his legendary sword, so be it, lad!” his friend had said with good humor while shaking his head at the magnificence of it all.

Though grateful for Brigo’s confidence, Link was unsettled that parts of his storied failure had survived a century’s passing. When he pressed this concern, however, the patrolman had simply shrugged and dismissed it.

“Yeh do no want to be proclaimin’ who yeh are to every soul yeh meet,” Brigo admitted. “No one’s too keen on wot exactly happened. A few tales are still swapped wi’ a pint or two, but most o’ wot I heard is more about Ganon. Most I ever heard about yerself is that yeh carried a great magic sword an’ that yeh were Hyrule’s...wot was the word? Oh, tha’s right, Champion. That’s allus how yeh were called in the stories. That bein’ said, everyone knows these hard times started wi’ the Calamity. Some are more bitter than others, mind yeh, but only ‘cause they heard tell from their granddaddies about the good ol’ days.”

Link hoped Brigo was not sparing his feelings, but neither was he eager to find out. If this Impa was still truly alive, she would have more answers than any number of travelers’ stories put together.

What few questions Brigo had asked were not overly invasive, merely efforts to clarify those hazier portions of Link’s tale. He did not, much to Link’s relief, pursue the subject of his relationship with Zelda. Link himself tried not to dwell on that, nor would he until he knew how to begin to amend his failure to her and Rhoam. Instead, Brigo had been more eager to discuss what lay ahead rather than what had already transpired one hundred years ago. Link was grateful for that and for his experience, which was helpful almost immediately.

“Kakariko Village?” the patrolman had confirmed with a raised eyebrow. “Why, ‘tis but a day’s journey north from the stable. Ah’ve been there meself a few times, only to accompany the odd trader and his cargo to the place, mind yeh. I should no be surprised, seein’ as yer carryin’ whatever that thing is. ‘Tis clearly Sheikah-made.”

That last Brigo had said while gesturing off-handedly to the slate hanging from Link’s belt. Again, to his relief, the patrolman had not pursued the matter. It was clear, however, that he understood much from what he saw, thanks in no small part to his travels around Hyrule. What had truly surprised Link was his unexpected offer.

“‘Course, I’ll accompany yeh if yeh’ve no objection,” Brigo said casually. “We’ll pass the stable on our way an’ I’m due fer a break after patrollin’ fer two weeks straight. Sure as anythin’ there are worse ways to spend a few days than makin’ sure some bygone hero gets to someplace ‘e can no remember. I’ll deliver meh report an’ then we’ll be on our merry way.”

Link had gladly accepted. He did not doubt his own ability to survive, but traveling blind in a land he no longer remembered was no way to make his journey quickly. To that end, he had willingly explained to Brigo his need to reach the tower and retrieve from it the portion of the map it no doubt contained. His friend had readily agreed.

“I can tell yeh I’m interested to see yon tower meself,” Brigo admitted before settling down for the night. “No harm in makin’ sure that side o’ the river is safe as well.”

With that, Link was left to the first watch with his heart lighter and stomach fuller than at any point since awakening on the plateau. Those feelings increased as they finished gathering their supplies now, readying to set off for the tower. They would, Brigo had told him, follow the Hills of Baumer on which they had camped, giving them a clear view of the river and its banks for at least part of the journey. After that, they planned to descend to a natural rock bridge often used to cross the Squabble (as Brigo had informed Link the river was named).

It was but the walk of a moment to ascend what remained of the hillside. The eastward path they had left the previous night disappeared into a small wood immediately below them. Brigo had assured him they would return to the road after visiting the tower, as it cut directly between the mountains and led straight to the stable.

To the south, Link saw the Baumer descended into a swamp that half-swallowed what had once been a sizable village. The remaining houses were in an even more advanced stage of decay than those he had passed the previous day. He gestured toward the place with a greave-clad arm.

“What was that place, Brig?” Link asked. “Did it also fall to the Calamity?”

Brigo looked briefly at the forsaken spot and nodded.

“Aye, ‘tis another corpse left behind by Ganon’s handywork,” the patrolman said sadly. “Deya Village was ‘ome to the best river fisherman born wi’out fins or wings, or so ‘tis said. Not too much o’ their history is known, but what we do know is kept in a few books sittin’ at the stables so patrolmen know their routes. Deya supplied the East Post -- the ruins yeh passed yesterday -- wi’ food. The Post guarded ‘em in return fer their troubles. When the Post fell, well, Deya did no stand a chance against the Calamity.”

The East Post. Deya. Was one of those places my home? The thought came to Link suddenly. Rhoam had told him much, but there were so many holes that the urgency of his mission and lack of time had left unfilled. He thought of the fishermen, their wives and children, defenseless under the onslaught of Ganon’s rage.

Brigo’s hand halted Link’s arm halfway to its unconscious journey to the sword hilt over his shoulder.

“Yeh can no carry the burden of the world on yer own two shoulders, lad,” Brigo said quietly. “Yeh did what yeh could and yer settin’ out to do more. ‘Tis all anyone could ask o’ yeh.”

Link could not vocally argue the point, even if his heart still protested. It did so more quietly, however, at the sight of the tall patrolman looking down on him with concern, for all the world like an older brother tending to his younger sibling.

“I know what you say is true, Brig,” Link responded slowly. “It will take time and action for me to feel it.”

Brigo nodded sympathetically.

“I would no expect anythin’ different from yeh, lad,” the patrolman said bracingly. “So let’s get a move on, then, shall we?”

The pair resumed its march along the hilltops, the ruins of Deya slowly sliding behind their right shoulders. The last hill was the largest, topped by a trio of nearly identical trees. It gave them an ample view of the surrounding area. Clouds scudded in from the west behind them, muting the midday sun’s light. Link saw they were now much closer to the tower, which loomed over the river on the opposite bank.

Movement. It was fleeting, like an insect fleeing his line of sight. Link’s eyes narrowed, but could not discover whatever had caught their attention in the first place.

“See somethin’, lad?” Brigo asked. Link started, having half-forgotten about his companion. He saw the patrolman was also scanning the area around the tower, hoping to confirm what Link may or may not have seen.

“I thought I did,” Link admitted, “on that hill behind the tower. If there was something, it’s gone now.”

Brigo nodded thoughtfully.

“Might’ve been a heron lookin’ for fish. There’s a pond on the other side o’ that hill, so birds get the best o’ both worlds from there, don’t they? But allus best to assume the worst is possible,” the patrolman admitted. “We’ll see soon enough.”

With that, Brigo began descending the grassy hill. Link followed closely behind, glancing every so often at the opposite bank. He saw no sign of what he had previously glimpsed. That hill — which jutted out from the northern twin peak — appeared lifeless, save for the visible orange gleam from the neighboring Sheikah tower.

Their own hill emptied into the the small wood that ran alongside the river. Nothing disturbed the tranquility within.

“Yeh hear it, don’t yeh, lad?”

Brigo’s unexpectedly hushed voice nearly caused Link to draw his sword. Only now did he realize his companion was half-crouched as he was, remaining silent at the behest of some sixth sense. At first, he did not understand the question. Then it dawned on him.

“It’s too quiet,” Link agreed, albeit softly.

Brigo nodded. “‘Tis an odd thing when yeh can no hear a blinkin’ squirrel or bird in a grove next to a river. Somethin’ ain’t right. See that slab o’ stone? Hide yerself be’ind it whilst I take a look around.”

Link nodded as Brigo backtracked into the woods. Speech was an unnecessary risk, now, at least until it was proven otherwise. He stalked quietly toward the rock outcropping his friend had pointed out. The east-bound path cut directly through the woods. The rock was on the other side, between the road and the river. He used the trees for cover, not moving until he ascertained no one — or nothing — else was watching. Link hastened across the road as quietly as he could. The mound lay lengthwise in the ground, but even so, it was still tall enough to conceal him from most of the woods as well as the river.

Link did not have to wait long. Brigo returned as stealthily as he had left, jerking his head behind him.

“There’s eight, maybe ten bokoblins further back in the trees,” Brigo said quietly. “Most of ‘em ‘ave kipped off to sleep. Lazy gits if they ‘ave nothin’ to keep ‘em occupied. Though I do no doubt yer skill wi’ yer blade, I’d rather get to that tower o’ yers an’ then press on to the stable. The folk there need to know about this, an’ that won’t happen if we’re slain tryin’ our odds here.”

Link nodded, willing his hand to release the hilt of his sword despite himself. Whether it was overconfidence or instinct, some inner bravado told him ten of the beasts were not cause for alarm. Still, he did not argue with Brigo, who knew the countryside and his stable’s needs far better than Link.

Brigo stopped a moment longer to retrieve something from a narrow side pocket in his pack. From it, he withdrew three arrows. Instead of pointed heads, however, they were topped with small, tightly bound bags of red cloth.

“I did no carry a bow wi’ me, but you do, so these’ll be useful if we get into a scrap,” Brigo said while handing the arrows and a large scrap of cloth to link. “If yeh haven’ used ‘em since wakin’ up, yeh’ll not remember what they are. They’re bomb arrows. Loose ‘em with enough speed, they’ll deliver a gran’ wallop the moment they strike the ground. Use the cloth to keep ‘em separate in yer quiver. Yeh do no want them to rub yer other arrows the wrong way, if yeh catch meh drift.”

Link nodded to show he understood, then carefully stowed the trio of bomb arrows in his quiver as instructed. The objects also reminded him of another weapon at their disposal — the Sheikah Slate. There had been no need of it since leaving the plateau. There might be now.

Quietly as they could, the two travelers swiftly made for the rock bridge that lay directly before them. It zig-zagged across two thirds of the river. A handful of sporadically placed boulders accounted for the remaining distance.

Link motioned for Brigo to go first, unshouldering his bow to show his friend he would act as rear guard in case they were discovered. The patrolman nodded, then proceeded across the bridge. Neither he nor Link wasted any time traversing the first and longest portion. Once they arrived at that section’s end, Brigo stopped only to briefly gauge the distance he’d need to jump, then did so with little fanfare.

If the bokoblins in the woods were awake, they had not noticed the two humans openly traversing the river. Mentally thanking the trees’ cover, Link shouldered his bow to finish the crossing unencumbered.

Brigo reached the opposite bank just one jump ahead of Link, who immediately unshouldered his bow again as soon as he joined his friend. There was no sign of the bokoblins emerging from the woods, however, allowing both Hylians to momentarily relax.

“Hylia favors us, lad,” Brigo said. “The pigspawn’ll likely snooze away the day. Let’s get a move on to that tower.”

The structure, which stood but a short walk away, sprouted from the center of a small cove continuously fed by the Squabble. Though the neighboring hill rose nearly halfway up its length, it lay too far removed from the tower to serve as a means of reaching the tower. Link, saw, however, another series of half-submerged boulders offering a rough path to the tower’s base.

“There, Brig,” Link said while pointing out there way. “We can climb from the bottom, just like I did on the plateau.”

The patrolman nodded. “Lead the way, lad.”

The pair traversed the makeshift path as quickly as they could, aware they were still very much exposed to the southern bank and woods. Like their first crossing, however, they reached the tower with no disturbance. The last boulder on which they stood butted up against the structure’s base, allowing them an easy start to the climb.

Brigo could not help but reach out and touch the bronze grillwork through which the orange core of the structure shone.

“What me pater’d say if ‘e could see ‘is only son touchin’ the work of the Sheikah,” the patrolman murmured in awe. “Never mind touchin’ it, I’ll be climbin’ the bloody thing!”

Link grinned at his friend’s honest amazement.

“I’ve had enough of Sheikah monuments,” Link laughed. “After this, I’ll be eager to meet their builders and get some answers. Come on, friend.”

With that, they began to climb with Link leading the way. As its twin on the plateau had done, the tower offered easy handholds via the bronze grillework. They were making their way quickly and had made their second stop on one of the small platforms to catch their breath when Brigo gasped and pointed toward the adjacent hill.

“Blessed Hylia, protect us!”

More than a score of bokoblins pockmarked the hill like a disease, only now visible due to the fact that Link and Brigo were high enough to see its far side slope away from them to the north. The beasts were camped on that slope now, though clearly keeping their presence as inconspicuous as possible. Brigo had immediately crouched down behind the raised lip of the step-like ledge they had reached, and Link was only a split second behind him.

“A band that size’ll have at least one scout fer sure,” Brigo whispered. “We’ll be in its line o’ sight, now, and it’ll be Hylia’s mercy alone that keeps it from seein’ us.”

Link was torn. He needed the information the tower contained, but obtaining it would no doubt expose them to a pack the size of which his friend had never encountered before.

Have I? he briefly wondered.

Dismissing the thought, Link brought his attention back to the present.

“The towers are here for the slate, and I’m the one who was left with it,” Link said half to Brigo, half to himself. “We’re already here, and we may not get this close again.”

Brigo nodded thoughtfully, then quickly motioned to Link. “Gimme yer bow an’ quiver. I’ll cover yeh from here while you do what needs be done.”

Link willingly obliged, handing over the wooden bow and half-full quiver to his friend. He waited until Brigo had both situated to his liking, then waited for his blessing to go.

“Good luck, lad,” the patrolman said with a grin.

Link smiled back. “You too, Brig.” Then he turned toward the face of the tower, took a breath, and launched himself up the grillework as fast as he could.

Only one quarter of the tower’s length remained when Link heard a horn sound into the cloudy, late afternoon air. Risking a glance down, he saw that a bokoblin stationed near the hill’s summit had indeed seen him. It was alternating between blowing its horn and pointing at him frantically. Its excited squeals were barely audible at this height, but Link did not need to hear them to know trouble was on the way.

He let himself down on the final platform below the top of the tower, giving his hands the briefest of respites from the completely vertical climb. Link heard Brigo yell from the platform below him.

“I see yeh, yeh great snivelin’ pigspawn! Here’s a present from ol’ Brigo an’ the Dueling Peaks Stable!”

A short pause, then an explosion louder than any Link could remember hearing. Looking down, he saw a small fire and a billow of smoke rising from where Brigo’s bomb arrow had no doubt landed. Link could make out at least two motionless bokoblins in the chaos, but their surviving brethren had already gathered themselves from the shock of the attack. Most were streaming down the hillside, from where they would no doubt reach the tower just as the Hylians had. A handful remained at the top of the hill, where they began firing arrows at Link and Brigo.

A shaft glanced off the tower immediately above Link’s head, and he briefly thanked the fates he had not already resumed his ascent. Another shout emitted from Brigo, followed by another bomb arrow directed at the small group of archers. The fiery blast forced Link to close his eyes. When he opened them again, only scorched corpses remained atop the hill.

“Hurry up, lad!” yelled Brigo from below. “I do no want to find out if the swine can climb this thing!”

Berating himself for waiting this long, Link resumed the climb as speedily as he could. Now he was only a couple of his own body lengths from the platform opening. The bokoblins’ guttural squeals sounded closer, now. Link could only hope their haste would work against them while traversing the river rocks.

At last, Link hoisted himself to the top-most platform, which spread out far wider than the tower shaft supporting it. Link raced to the pedestal at the center, over which hung the familiar stalactite of obsidian-like stone. Out of breath, he slammed the Sheikah Slate into its slot.

As it had on the plateau, the tower flared blue in place of the orange light it had previously emitted. Then an automated voice sounded from the pedestal.

“Tower activated. Distilling local information.”

Blue-glowing Sheikah runes immediately began trickling down the pillar’s length. They gathered at its blunt point, coalescing into a tangible drop of blue light which then dropped onto the slate’s waiting surface.

The map appeared on the slate, but Link did not stop to assess it. Satisfied the tower’s task was begun, he raced to the edge of the platform to see how his friend was faring. Brigo had switched to regular arrows, no doubt saving his remaining bomb arrow for a last, desperate stand.

Link thought that time might be fast approaching. Though Brigo had felled at least three bokoblins en route to the tower, that still left plenty to continue the pursuit. Only two, however, had managed to traverse the boulder-sized stepping stones leading to the structure’s base. The rest were either unable or unwilling to risk falling into the water, something Link made a mental note to remember if he lived long enough to do so.

“Brig!” Link shouted. “Climb up! We’re done here!”

An unintelligible shout answered from below, but Link did not verify his friend’s answer. He raced back to the pedestal, which was just now offering up the newly enhanced slate. He took it and hooked it securely onto his belt, then darted to the opening in the middle of the platform to monitor Brigo’s progress.

Once he was close enough, Link reached down and hauled his companion up to join him. Between breaths, Brigo caught Link up to speed.

“Glad we’re done here, lad, ‘cause that lot down there is hankerin’ to have us in their bloody cook pots!” the patrolman gasped. “If it’s all the same to yeh, I’d rather get outta here and on to the stable.”

Link nodded, but knew fulfilling Brigo’s wishes was easier said than done at the moment. They could not go back down to the waiting bokoblins, some of which might even now be scaling the tower. The river’s boulders and swift current made the Squabble an unappealing destination as well.

The face of the smaller twin mountain rose ominously in front of them to the east. Link was just about to resign himself to the river when he saw another possible route of escape.

“Brigo!” he said excitedly. “You see that ledge? That’s our way out!”

Brigo peered over the eastern edge of the platform and looked down the mountain face. His eyes lighted on what Link had seen: a wide ledge jutting out from the mountainside that wound around and into the gap between the Dueling Peaks. It would have been too high to climb from ground level, but from where they stood it was a steep fall just beyond a jump’s reach.

“I know yer supposed to be a bloody hero, Link, but there’s no way in Hylia we can jump that far!” Brigo exclaimed.

Link was not listening. He had reached behind his back and unhooked the collapsed paraglider from its belt hooks. Unfurling it, he motioned a reluctant Brigo to come closer.

“We won’t get far with the two of us on this, but it should be enough to get us to that ledge,” Link quickly explained while pointing out their path. “The bokoblins won’t have an easy time reaching us, and by the time they get near that ledge we’ll be long gone.”

Brigo scratched his head and looked dubiously at the now unfolded paraglider.

“I did no understand half o’ what yeh just said, but I’m game if yeh are, lad!” the patrolman said bracingly.

Link nodded, then motioned for Brigo to grab one of the two handles with both his hands. Link grasped the other.

“On three, we run and jump off as hard as we can toward that ledge. Ready? One! Two! Three!”

Link had delivered his instructions quickly in the hope that action would override any hesitation on Brigo’s part. It did. Like two participants in a four-legged race, the pair launched itself off the edge of the platform and toward the face of the mountain.

Two bodies’ worth of weight made the paraglider sink far faster than it had during Link’s departure from the plateau. That was actually for the better, as it prevented them from sailing face-first into the mountain. Instead, the paraglider took a buffered fall toward the ledge, which — Link was grateful to see — was easily wide enough for two people. Screams from behind them signaled the bokoblins’ fury at their potential escape.

Bracing himself and hoping Brigo did the same, Link allowed his knees to absorb the impact of their rapid landing onto the ledge. They stumbled into the rocky face of the mountain but were otherwise unharmed from their joint sojourn in flight.

The patrolman looked at his hands, which were shaking uncontrollably.

“Ne’er again,” Brigo mumbled. “I’ll ne’er again wonder what it’s like to be a bloody Rito. They can ‘ave the sky and heaven’s treasures for all I care, so ‘elp me they can!”

Link hastily stowed the paraglider onto the back of his belt, then looked behind to check the state of their enemies. The setting sun showed the bokoblins’ distant silhouettes hopping about angrily at the base of the tower. They would need to traverse at least half a dozen more widely spaced river boulders to reach their side of the cove. Even then, they would be stymied by the height of the ledge on which he and Brigo now stood. That did not mean Link wanted to wait around to see it.

“I know you don’t like traveling at night, but we’ve got to put as much distance between us and them as we can,” Link said urgently so as to jolt his friend from reliving his flying experience. “Do you know how far this ledge goes along the mountain? Can we use it to get to the stable?”

Fear forgotten in the face of necessity, Brigo looked down at Link and nodded firmly.

“Aye, we can follow this a fair bit,” the patrolman answered. “‘Twill run its course just shy o’ the other side. ‘Tis a short distance to the stable after that. We should get there b’fore dawn if yer luck holds out, lad.”

Link smiled. “Lead the way, then, Brig.”

At a swift trot, the companions left their pursuers howling in rage as night’s cloak began to spread overhead.