Link’s hands tightened over nothing, while Brigo’s eyes widened and Giro half-choked on an apple he had dug out from one of his pockets. Coughing out the offending bite, the portly patrolman kept his high-pitched and disbelieving voice as low as he could.

“Overrun?” Giro sputtered. “What...what do you mean, overrun?”

“Just that,” Rensa replied quietly, but with a look of warning that told Giro to keep his voice down. “No one has traveled safely to nor from Hateno in at least a fortnight. Mezer has not returned,” he added for Brigo’s benefit. “He should have been back days ago.”

“We had a trader from Hateno scheduled to drop off a shipment of vegetables last week,” the equerry continued heavily. “You know Agus, Brig. He is never late. He takes pride in delivering his goods on time. We have neither seen nor heard from him.”

Brigo’s face was a drawn mask of concern, while Giro looked forlornly into his pint for signs of some magical refill. Link thought back to the encampment of bokoblins by the tower, and how Brigo — an experienced traveler and patrolman — had been nonplussed at the sight of so many gathered together.

“And then there is this,” Rensa concluded. “The widows did initially set out for Hateno Village with their children. Though they are not fighters, they know the signs of danger. They found six bokoblin campfires before reaching the village. Days old, but unmistakable. More importantly, the monsters had clearly moved on toward Hateno. The women dared not continue; they came here despite the distance and their young.”

Rensa nodded toward the wall with the beds as he finished, and Link turned just in time to see a small girl peeking out from the drawn curtains. Her face was thin, her eyes wide with the fear children feel when their small worlds have turned upside-down. Those eyes briefly met Link’s, widened in alarm, and disappeared with the rest of her face behind the curtain.

Link turned back toward the table, wondering how many others would be uprooted from this rising wave of evil before he was ready to turn it back.

“Is there no stable or other help for those near the village?” Link demanded. “How far to Hateno from here?”

“Only a day by horse, but on foot ‘tis at least three and closer to four,” Brigo answered. “Even if all the villagers had mounts — an’ most of them don’t, mind yeh — they’re likely too scared to try it with that many pigspawn about. They’re better off diggin’ in an’ holdin’ their position. That’s if the beasts have the nerve to attack in the firs’ place.”

“I do not wish to leave them to their fate,” Rensa added worriedly, “but we are short-handed as it is. The traders who can fight might do so to protect their profits, but the travelers and refugees are just as likely to remain here or flee such a force rather than face it. Those few who would go might not survive the journey with that many Ganonspawn between us and the village.”

Link was torn. The enemy was massing near a village’s worth of innocents, but Rhoam had been clear that he must seek out Impa to truly begin countering Ganon’s return.

Only a day by horse…

“This is a stable,” Link said suddenly. “Is there a horse for sale? A fast one? After I see to my business in Kakariko, I will help those at Hateno. With luck, I can be there two nights from now.”

The other three men looked up, each meeting Link’s proposition with a different expression. Giro looked bewildered at his urgency. Rensa thoughtfully considered Link with the same weighing look from earlier that evening. Brigo, however, simply grinned as though his prized pupil was meeting and exceeding a proud teacher’s expectations.

“I do not know why you feel the need to single-handedly save Hateno Village, Link, but I assure you that you do not,” Rensa began to assure him. “We will help them when we can, as soon as we can. We can arrange a party as soon as enough patrolmen return. As Brigo said, it will be some time before even a large group of the Calamity’s creatures nerves itself up to attack one of the largest remaining villages in Hyrule.”

“This cannot wait, Rensa,” Link answered firmly. “My business in Kakariko Village is as urgent as that in Hateno. With haste, I can fulfill both, but I cannot do so without a steed to speed my journey.”

Rensa gave Link one last searching look before rising from his chair.

“I will ask Tasseren if a horse can be had,” Rensa said at last, then he left them to consult with his brother at the counter.

Giro looked back and forth between the departing equerry and the two remaining Hylians, then finally down at his still-empty mug.

“I… I think I’ll see if Tasseren’ll raise my tab.”

“Again?” Brigo chortled as the short patrolman heaved his girth out of the chair. “He’ll light yer tab on fire an’ toss yeh out the door if yeh do, lad, but give it a go!”

Slightly alarmed at this prospect but nonetheless motivated by the empty bottom of his mug, Giro reluctantly left the table. Assured that Rensa was well engaged with his brother at the counter, Brigo leaned over to speak quietly to Link.

“By Hylia’s eyes, what’s got into yeh, lad?” the patrolman asked incredulously. “I know yeh’ve a grand mission to slay the Calamity an’ all that, but yeh haven’t slept in a day! You’ll be doin’ the village no favors rushin’ into the pigspawn by yerself with nary a wink nor a rest.”

Link did not answer immediately. He turned once more to look at the bed where he had seen the little girl. Each widow had two children, Rensa had said. The girl was likely trying to sleep with her mother and sibling right now. Could she, after what she had been through? How many children would go sleepless in the coming nights? How many would still be alive and awake?

Link turned to face his friend.

“Each day we wait could be the one we regret,” Link said quietly. “You said bokoblins don’t gather in numbers. They are now. Hyrule won’t survive if her people don’t do the same. If a village like Hateno falls, is anywhere safe anymore?”

Brigo shook his head ruefully. “I can no argue wi’ that, lad. Jus’ be prepared to explain yerself if yeh keep chargin’ aboot like a wild bull in me mammy’s kitchen. Rensa’ll probably let yeh be, but others may not be so respectful, even the ones yeh help.”

Link nodded. He would cross that bridge when the time came, but not before. If that meant others thought he was a foolhardy hothead eager to throw himself into battle, so be it. It was a small price to pay for what he owed Zelda and Hyrule.

Both he and Brigo looked up to see Rensa returning to the table with a forlorn Giro not far behind. Link sincerely hoped Tasseren’s news was better for him than it had been for the pudgy patrolman.

The equerry did not waste time dispelling those hopes.

“I am sorry Link, but there is no horse to be had,” Rensa informed him. “No one here is selling, likely because they all want a fast way out should trouble swing this way. We might have lent you one of our own, but without Mezer’s mount and others still on patrol, we only have two available to us. We need them ourselves, you understand?”

Link was crestfallen. “Surely using a stable mount to aid a village falls under its permissible uses, Rensa?” he persisted. “What need is direr than Hateno’s?”

Rensa shook his head in response. “But you are not riding directly to their aid, Link. You have already told me you plan to visit Kakariko first. I do not ask why. That is not my business for the same reason I cannot lend you a horse: you are not a patrolman. You are not honor-bound to the task set before us.”

Brigo opened his mouth angrily at this, but Rensa forestalled him with an upraised hand. “No, Brigo. I know you would defend your friend’s honor as fiercely as you defend us. I do trust you and anyone you choose to vouch for, no matter how little I know of them.”

Link did not miss the equerry’s renewed look of weighing and measuring at these words.

“That does not mean that others will share my trust in you or him,” Rensa continued. “If they discover that I have given Link a stable horse under the pretense of helping Hateno only to see him take the path to Kakariko instead, I lose whatever integrity I have as equerry of this stable. In these times, with so little Hylian authority holding the people together, I cannot risk that.”

Link understood, but that did not calm his frustration. It seemed he would have to continue his journey on foot, which would see him to Hateno in no fewer than five days. Maybe longer. Would the village still be there? Or would it become yet another ruin marking what once had been?

“He may have my horses.”

The female voice startled all four men at the table, none of whom had noticed the woman’s quiet approach. Her long, light brown hair was unkempt, as were the mud-stained clothes she wore. She was not alone. The little girl Link had glimpsed earlier clutched one of her mother’s legs, while an even smaller boy clung just as fastly to the other, both their eyes wide with fright.

Though the woman was clearly travel-worn, her voice was clear and her green eyes proud. She repeated herself, though this time directly to Link.

“You may have my horses,” she said even more firmly. “If you will truly help those at Hateno, they are yours.”

Out of respect to both Link’s need and Rensa’s integrity, Brigo spoke before either of them could.

“Ah, that’s a gen’rous offer of yeh, lass, but yeh may not have heard,” the patrolman kindly said. “Young Link here is bound for Kakariko Village first. Mind yeh, he has every intention o’ makin’ for Hateno as fast as he’s able, but yeh should know this afore yeh go givin’ ‘im mounts yeh might need yerself.”

The woman shook her head stubbornly while running her fingers through her children’s hair.

“I know he plans to journey to Kakariko. I also heard how he intends to speed that journey on behalf of the people at Hateno. My husband and I,” she continued, turning to Link once again, “met there. He was a trader and I a village girl. We made our home and family on the Ovli Plain. He died on our way here, holding off a band of pigspawn so my children and I could escape on horseback. It is only fitting his horse return bearing someone to avenge him.”

Rensa coughed awkwardly while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sagessa, I know you have suffered much,” the equerry said sympathetically. “I know that you want to see the beasts pay for that suffering. But Link is just one man. You are likely sending him — along with horses you may very well need — to his death.”

Sagessa’s eyes blazed once more as she rounded on Rensa.

“He knows he is just one man, yet he is willing!” she said bitingly. “That is enough for me. They are my horses, equerry, and I am telling you he has my leave to take them, to fight with them and even die with them if he must. Not that he will do so alone,” Sagessa added even more hotly. “I fully expect him to be joined by as many men and women as this stable can send. Dueling Peaks has never spared its strength when it was needed before. I know it will not now.”

Brigo carefully kept his mug in front of his face despite the fact that it was empty. Link had a sneaking suspicion that his friend was trying very hard not to smile or even laugh out loud at his seeing his equerry cornered by equal parts command and praise. A wide-eyed Giro looked back and forth between Sagessa and Rensa in a desperate attempt to predetermine the victor. Link simply shifted his eyes from the woman to the equerry and waited.

Finally, Rensa exhaled a sigh of resignation.

“Very well, Sagessa. I will have Tasseren transfer your horses to Link.” Rensa looked at the latter with an eyebrow questioningly raised. “We are far closer to dawn than dusk, and you have yet to sleep. When do you want the mounts ready to ride?”

Link looked back at Sagessa, whose eyes blazed with a confidence he had hardly earned. Well, now is the time to start, he thought wryly.

“I ride at first light, Rensa,” Link said aloud. Sagessa gave him an abrupt nod of approval, then quickly ushered her children back to the bed they shared.

Rensa leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I will see you shortly, Link. Get some sleep while you can, all of you,” he added with sterner looks at Brigo and Giro. “Each of us has a need to be up and about tomorrow. May Hylia guard your dreams.”

With that, the equerry rose and exited through the tent flap. Brigo saw Link’s questioning look and provided a ready answer.

“Those of us who live ‘ere sleep be’ind the stables when the beds are spoken for,” the patrolman explained. “We’ve got pallets that’ll do in a pinch, even if the weather takes a turn for the worse. We’ll be sleepin’ out there too, lad.”

Giro got up from his chair and knuckled his back.

“Hmph,” the shorter patrolman grumbled. “Not much sleep we’ll be getting! You leaving at daybreak and me having a morning patrol. Take it for me, won’t you Brig?”

The tall patrolman chuckled wryly. “Fat chance o’ that, yeh scoffin’ windbag. I’ve slept as much as young Link here. That an’ I’ve plans o’ me own on the morrow. Yeh’ll not wriggle me outta them on yer behalf!”

Giro muttered at this, then bid the pair a subdued good night before heading out the same tent flap through which Rensa had exited. That left Link and Brigo to themselves, the former giving the latter a raised eyebrow along with a question.

“Plans of your own?” Link asked. “You’re not still planning on coming with me?”

Brigo snorted. “An’ wot if I am? I’m no supposed to be patrollin’ tomorrow, but if we’re as short-handed as Rensa says, ‘e won’t mind me keepin’ an extra dutiful eye on the roads, will ‘e?”

Link shook his head as they exited through the tent flap and began making their way around the back.

“I don’t know what will happen at Kakariko, Brig, and even less at Hateno,” Link admitted. “That’s assuming I get there.”

“Another reason to have meh along, lad,” Brigo jauntily answered. “Two blades stand a better chance o’ reachin’ Hateno than one, especially if yer up against wot Rensa thinks is out there. Sorry, Link, but yer stuck wi’ me as long as I decide it’s good fer yeh.”

Link did not answer immediately as they propped up their belongings next to the pair of pallets they had picked out. They were situated under a small wooden overhang on the other side of the stalls. Small walls dividing the pallets into groups provided a modicum of privacy.

“Fine,” Link casually replied, “but try to pull your own weight this time, Brig. I’ve already saved your life twice and I won’t consider you a friend if that habit holds out.”

Brigo bolted upright at this, his mouth already open with what would no doubt have been a memorable retort. Then he saw Link smiling, giving away the joke. The patrolman was none too gentle about slinging a thick blanket in Link’s direction, nor wrapping one about himself. He could hear Brigo muttering just before he drifted off for a much needed — if necessarily short — sleep.

“Bloody hero thinks ‘e can cheek meh. I do no care if ‘e saves princesses an’ slays demons, ‘e can chuck ‘imself off a bloody bridge an’ watch me pass ‘im by wi’out a glance, see if I don’t!”

The Stalfos’s scimitar dripped fresh blood, its swift retribution dealt out and done. Bokoblins were brainless lumps of flesh. The Stalfos knew this. That should not have mattered. There had been too many of them and too few paths to the tower for them to have failed.

Most of the slain were from the group that had been stationed in the forest of the opposite bank. They could not lie through the mental link. As soon as the Stalfos had seen they had slept the day away — thus allowing the boy to slip past them and reach the tower unseen by the larger group until it was too late — it had killed the beasts instantly. The rest now lay prostrate in the sand of the riverbank, snuffling pathetically. The bokoblins were proof that the Master was all-powerful, for who else could rule with such pitiful creatures to call upon?

Reaching out with his mind once again, the Stalfos replayed a nearby bokoblin’s memory of the boy’s escape. It was absurd. He — and another Hylian by the look of it — had flown from the top of the tower to the ledge jutting out from the side of the mountain. Or something like that. It was impossible, but the filth’s remembrance was as accurate an explanation as the Stalfos would get this night.

The skeletal creature had realized soon after awakening that its plan had gone awry. It had found the bokoblins half-heartedly attempting to cross the cove to pursue the boy. Knowing their fear of any water more than hoof-deep, the Stalfos had mentally summoned the keese to finish the job properly. It had felt elation through the bond, which meant the bat-like creatures had found his prey.

Then, confusion and anger, followed by the severing of several of those bonds. The Stalfos would have snarled if it could. A number of the keese had been slain. The boy — and whoever his new companion was — had no doubt reached the stable. He was untouchable there, at least by the numbers the Stalfos currently commanded.

And where would the boy go now? The Stalfos did not know. That had not been part of the bokoblin’s message. Kill the boy and become Karanlik. That was all.

No, the Stalfos thought suddenly. That was not all. The worm was to carry another message to its fellow worms, worms large enough in number to attack a village of men.

The Stalfos knew the boy might not necessarily go to that village. He could very well seek out the Sheikah dogs that lived north of the stable. He would be out of reach there as well. Still, that would only prove to be a delay if the Stalfos had a small army behind it. If the boy did not come to Hateno, the Stalfos would find him after destroying the village. With that many of the Master’s followers behind it, no stable or people could hide his quarry.

Wiping its blade on the back of a cowering Bokoblin, the Stalfos sent out a message to all those it had let live.

Sleep now. Tomorrow you set out to join your brethren beyond the cliffs to the east. Avoid all Hylians. I will be following. We will feast on man-flesh.

Snouted faces lifted at this. One or two bokoblins even licked their chops at the unexpected promise of spoils. The Stalfos did not care, as long as the beasts helped him seize the ultimate prize.

Mounting its Stalhorse, the undead skeleton rode out of the Bokoblins’ midst and back to its resting place at the foot of the mountain. It could wait. The Stalfos had time. The dead always had time.