Before there was Light: Part 10... Last post

When the princess told me of her dream, I had not expected the ‘fairy boy’ to show up the NEXT DAY. But, he did; and snuck past the entire palace guard and me to do it too… I never saw him until he was right there next to Zelda, waving a hello.

He had indeed brought the Forest Stone, and the princess sent him off after the remaining two immediately. Normally, I would have consulted with Fiate over all this, but Gannondorf was eating up all his time, and he and I were still on bad terms after the disagreement over the Greudo ‘king.’ Besides, by now I am at a point where the princess’ intuition, not to mention vivid dreams, are generally surer then the information I receive from my Shiekah contacts. We will see where this goes.

The young lad, apparently Blink, or Fink, or something like that, has taken all this to heart as well. He returned with the Fire Stone in two days, and left immediately for Zora Fountain and the final Stone. Two more days have since past, and Zelda is getting antsy. I am getting slightly nervous as well, but not over the little boy and his fairy running over the plains. Ten more Greudo women showed up at the palace yesterday, bringing the total number of Greudo subjects in the palace to thirty, sans Gannondorf, who is still hovering around Fiate’s side. The situation leaves me slightly ill-at-ease…

On a more positive note, four Rebel Shiekah and a gang of infamous gang of Hylian outlaws have been brought to the palace dungeons recently. Death awaits all of them for crimes varying from arson, to rape, to murder, to high treason. They really are rather lucky; in the days of Fiate’s predecessors they would have been thrown into the dark and nightmarish dungeons of the Shadow Temple and left to rot, dieing of giant spiders, ghouls and even darker things that lurk in the temple’s belly. Under the more ‘civilized’ reign of Fiate, these scum will merely sit in dank, but relatively comfortable, cells until their time at the block arrives.

As I walk hurriedly down a side hall towards the gardens, I cannot help but glance over my shoulder every so often. It is silly, but I cannot shake a strange pricking feeling at the back of my neck. Something is most assuredly amiss. I enter the gardens and glance up to the sky. It seems as though a major storm is brewing above Castle Town, adding to the general air of pending doom. The dark clouds obscure the evening sun, and a stiff wind is gusting. I shiver once, and continue future into the gardens. I should find the princess and get her indoors. She was not in her section of the garden, which is becoming more frequent, and I must locate her elsewhere. Spying Ainee practicing her katas a few yards to my left I call out over the rising wind.
“Ainee! Search the western grove for the princess please… return with her to my room if you find her. And be wary…” I warn.
“Ay!” the young girl calls, darting off. I turn to search the hedge gardens near the palace walls.

I poke around the shrubs, asking the few guards that patrol this section of the gardens if they have seen the princess. No one has seen much of anything all day it seems. Rain is starting to spit as I circle back to a door to a side hall of the palace. My hand grips the handle a little harder as I am struck with a horrid thought. The princess knows of my secret passage out of the palace… what if she decided to ‘go for an adventure’ out in the fields. Rain and storms have always made her giddy and reckless, and the extra excitement of the young lad’s quest might just push her into the rash. Praying I am wrong, I dash towards the hidden spot in the gardens where the passage ends. I slip down the stairs into the long narrow hall, running down to the exit just outside the palace.

I dart around the corner, and straight into a dark figure. I must have been so focused on the princess I let my guard down. I vault backwards, handspringing once to put some distance between myself and the stranger. I thought only Shiekah knew of this entrance…

“Well, well… Mistress Impa…”
Dega… I guess I was right… He is standing there smirking, shadowy figures grouped behind him. In the shadows cast by the flickering torches I cannot guess their number of identity.
“You were more cautious then I had thought; hiding the girl away like that… Gannondorf was furious when a second attempt found the princess simply missing…you may have delayed the return of my sweet Simari, but it will not all go your way. Gannondorf will still raise her… if I bring him your head….”
Simari? Dega is no doubt mad, what is he saying? Wait, now I understand. The eyes behind him are glinting yellow; a whole troop of Garo Ninja! The Greudo in the palace, the Reble Shiekah and bandits in the dungeons, and now a Garo Ninja Clan… there are probably more minions of the Greudo king in the palace then actual soldiers of Hyrule. Gannondorf is going to attempt a coup this very hour!
“Dega! What have you done!”
“I fight for the woman I love, what do YOU do Impa… go now,” he calls over his shoulder to the Garo, “be swift and merciless… I’ll handle the Shiekah…”
Before I can react, the air rushes past me. The Ninja brush by me leaving just Dega and I in the dark corridor.
“Kill that brat of a princess,” he calls after the scurrying assassins, “and release the ones we sent ahead from their cells!”
“Dega, you are insane! Please, stop this!” I cry, pleading creeping into my voice.
“Prepare yourself,” he replies, pulling back into his common Ko’ara stance.

Ko’ara is a basic fighting style that emphasizes fundamental balance and flow. All Shiekah begin their training by learning this style; a ‘base’ if you will. No master relies on it as a true fighting style though, given that more complicated and powerful techniques are needed to face dangerous foes.
“Dega, you cannot beat me… you know I am more powerful then you,” I caution, pulling into a Taraja stance. In the tight hallway, it is best keep a closed form, as Dega will only be able to attack me from one direction.
“Did you learn that arrogance from the Hylians?” Dega asks, chuckling in a most disturbing manner, “I might not be a master of the Shiekah Martial Arts, but I am not without skill… I have spent the last twelve years developing my own style Impa… combined from the arts of all the races I have traveled among… and trust me, I will hear you call ME master before I finish taking your life!”
With this rather grim warning, Dega rushes forward. His whirling roundhouse is somewhat slow, but the form is perfect. I bounce back slightly, willing to wager that it is a fairly powerful kick. Dega comes down forward on the striking foot, and whirls his weight on it, snapping around the opposite foot in a far reaching snap kick. I am forced to doge back a second time, cursing under my breath. Dega is striking from weird angles, and covering lots of ground… I have seen this type of attack before, but never used by anyone other then a Zora. It is an intresting enough attack but, unfortunately for Dega, he has neglected to take into account his own lack of speed, the critical element in a Zora style attack. Grabbing the next kick that snaps in, I roll under the leg and jump forward, right leg extended. My foot crashes into Dega’s chest, sending him flying back a few feet.

“No matter your style, Dega,” I begin in almost an instructor like tone, “I will counter… you are too slow… learn to feel the motions flowing from within, shooting out to guide your attacks…”
His eyes burn, and I know he has picked up on the mocking taunt. It is a lesson given to students in the earliest of stages, and right now a direct affront to the disparity in our respective skill levels.
“Then learn of the Garo Spirit Attack,” Dega growls, glaring at me, “ten years of training under the most brutal masters imaginable, Impa… I cannot be beaten, not by you!” His right fist shoots out, punching into the wall next to him. My eyes catch the green glow of the hand right as it strikes the hard stone. A thunderous crack, accompanied by the smell of smoke and a cloud of fragmented dust, blows out from the spot he had hit. When it clears slightly I see Dega, smirking at me, holding his clinched fist up for me to see. A small trail of either steam or smoke is drifting from it.

Goddesses…. What in the name of the Dark Void was that?

The stone wall Dega punched is cracked beyond belief. I take a hesitant step back as I evaluate my next move.
“The Garo Spirit Attack…” he purrs, voice low and dark, “the Shiekah know of channeling one’s own strength into a strike, but the Garo have learned the secrets of so much more… the souls of the people a warrior has killed can be summoned by their slayer…”
“What?” surely he does not mean-
“Summoned by him!” Dega call triumphantly, stepping closer, “bent to his will! I strike with the power of every spirit I have sent to the Dark Void”
“What!”
“Yes, Impa,” his voice is calm again, as he returns to his Ko’ara stance, “I now strike with multiple spirit forces… it is as though I possess the Kenshi Strike, only at least thirty times as powerful!”
“Only two days ago I told young Keef that the Kenshi Strike was no guarantee of victory… do you really think I will let YOU of all people prove my teaching false?” I jibe, hoping to goad him into rash action. Dega has always had a short fuse.

Dega takes the bait, pushing forward his hand rockets out, glowing with that sickening green tint. I flip back as the punch crosses over me, then launch forward, palm striking out. The heal of it connects with the side of Dega’s jaw, snaping his head to the left. He staggers slightly, exposing his chest. Focusing my spirit force inward, and letting it flow into the punch, I uncoil into Kenshi Strike, aimed at his chest. He is too off balance to doge, and Keef is right about one thing: you cannot block a Kenshi Strike. But Dega does not even try to block the blow. Pushing his weight forward, Dega punches out. What is he doing? And his punch connects with mine; fist on fist.

And then my hand shatters.

Pain courses through every nerve in my arm as I jerk back, a gasp torn from my lips. I am not unused to injury, but I swear that Dega’s Spirit Attack has just broken every bone in my hand…

Dega smirks, obviously unhurt, but I bite back the pain. Whipping the elbow of my injured hand forward, I club Dega across the face. He is obviously taken aback by this. He must have thought his Spirit Attack would knock all the fight out of me. The blow snaps his head around, sending him off-balance again. Driving up with all the power of my legs and body, I bring my left fist into Dega’s lower abdomen. The air leaves him with an audible pop. Dega crumples back against the wall, gulping in a painful breath. He is totally open…

The man you knew is gone Impa… do not think about it… just do what you know you must…

My left fist shoots out for the killing blow, aimed at Dega’s temple. His head jerks back as I connect, slamming into the wall with a crack. His body crumples to the floor. It is over…

“Kill that brat of a princess!”

The words Dega had shouted out when dispatching his Ninja still hangs in the air. Hoping the fight has not taken to long, I turn and run back towards the palace. Please Princess… please be alive!

*******

“You know I love you right?”
“Of course Defaid… and I love you too.”
“This is gonna be a nasty one… but Fiate thinks it will bring the Greudo nation to a point where all they can do is beg.”
“And you think?”
He shrugged.
“Greudo don’t want to be ruled by the Hylians… can’t really say I blame them, but I’m just a soldier… I leave the whole political thing to Fiate.”
“Probably for the best...”

He walked to the door, and turned once to smile back at me.
“Be sure to come back,” I said. I do not know why I did. It was the only time I ever had. Come to think of it, it was the only time Defaid ever left without promising to return. Instead of that promise, he merely smiled and look at me with those deep eyes.

“Know that I always loved you, Impa… but please, don’t ever die with me. Live all the harder for both of us…” Then he was gone.

And then he died.

Sometimes I have wondered if he knew that this was to be his last time seeing me. I will live all the harder for us, Defaid… but I will always sorrow for that day I did not die with you…

*******

A particularly vicious thunderclap greats me as I exit the tunnel. Thunder and several guards dead among the trampled hedges. I dart towards the door from the gardens to the palace. Aside from the weather, it is eerily quiet, as though no one in the palace has realized the danger yet. They will soon; Garo and Greudo might be silent and deadly, but the Hylian rouges about to be released from prison would certainly raise a ruckus. Opening the door, I slip into the hall. I have barely taken three running steps when the alarm bell rings twice: ‘intruders in the palace.’ I hope Ainee has located the princess and taken her to my room.

I run towards my room, staying vigilant for foes as I head towards the princess’ possible location. Palace guards are running everywhere, but they were already out numbered even before so many were slain in the ambush. Excited voices call out, echoing down the narrow hall I am sprinting through.
“Damn them! Prisoners have swept the guards!”
“By Din, spears! Greudo Spears!”
“Prethius has been slain! Those demons killed him!”
“I can’t see them! I can’t, glakfsgv-” his ending gargle warns me that Ninja throwing spikes are imminent.
“Shuriken! Take cover!”
The door… oh no, it is broken open! I rush in, ready to still any non-Hylian breath in the room. A startled Greudo head jerks around, red eyes wide with surprise. A quick left straight sends her off balance. She spins around to level her spear at me, when a familiar zipping sound sings out. The Greudo’s back arches in pain and she cries out as she crumples down. Thank the Goddesses for Ainee and her shuriken… a little skill she picked up from her Plain Shiekah days. Ainee vaults over the bed she had been behind. She had turned it on its side like a barricade, obviously planning to hold the room until I returned. To me great relief, Princess Zelda emerges from behind the makeshift defenses as well. Striding quickly over to them, I kneel to inspect the princess. She seems fine, as does Ainee.

“You have done well, Ainee,” I offer, resting a hand on her shoulder and looking her in the eye, “I will always remember this…”
Shouts echoing down the hallway cause me to look back to the door. None of them sound promising. It is too late to save the palace now… getting the princess out alive seems to be the only course of action at this point. And where is Fiate?
“Ainee, princess,” I begin, turning back to them, “we must get out of the palace to a safe spot-”
“But daddy!” Zelda protest, alarm in her voice.
“Do not worry princess, I will help him if I can… right now we must focus on getting to safety.”
“No!” she cries, crossing her arms, “I am not running away! I will save daddy by myself if I have to!”
“Princess, do not debate with me! We are going to the stables. NOW!” I grab her hand and motion for Ainee to follow. She nods as she pulls out another shuriken; at lease ONE of these two still has some sense.

Zelda is pulling against my hand, but she is nowhere strong enough to challenge my grip.
“We can’t leave, Impa! Link is coming back, remember? He’ll save us!”
Goddesses of wind, fire, and love, she makes enough racket to waken the dead! I turn suddenly, taking the princess by surprise. She runs into me, and my right hand shoots around her neck. I pinch carefully on a little now nerve near the base of the skull and Zelda falls forward, senseless. Scooping her up, I balance the princess over my shoulder like a sack of grain. She might be harder to lug around like this, but at least she will not be alerting the enemy to our presence.
“Ainee I will take the princess to the stables and get her to safety. Stay out of harm, and see if you can learn what has become of Lord Fiate.”
“Ay,” she replies, head bobbing once before turning to disappear deeper into the palace. Praying for her safety, I turn back to the stable.

Ainee will not find Fiate… I got to him first. He is lying in the hall outside Zelda’s room, half a dozen knights and Captain Prethius fallen around him. If I know Fiate, he must have been attempting to fight his way to his daughter, but the bloodied guards tell the story better then words might… thank that goddesses Zelda is unconscious. Fiate’s body is strangely displays no visible lacerations. In fact, he looks relatively untouched. Then I notice the steam snaking out from under his collar. Setting the princess gently down, I pull open Fiate’s tunic, and peal up the golden chain mail to expose his chest. I quickly drop the mail over the sickening sight, nearly retching at the stench of burning flesh. Apparently Gannondorf himself wanted to be the one to put the Hylain king down. That bastard! But keep moving Impa… now is not the time for anger or griving. Get the princess out of here…

Scooping the princess back up, I continue on to the stable.

*******

Defaid laughed, a hand running back through that wispy hair of his. I was not nearly as amused.
“Oh, come’on Mistress Impa,” he teased, hands spreading in a gesture of innocence, “it was just a little practical joke!”
“You need to learn that not everything should be mocked, Defaid,” I muttered, arms crossed.
“And you need to learn to laugh, my little philosopher…” he was still laughing, “life isn’t all pain and darkness after all…”

He had coated the insides of my training gloves with honey as I recall, and had found my reaction to sticky interior quite amusing. It was a few days after my fourteenth birthday, and I assume the prank was Defaid’s belated gift; Goddess knows he forgot to do anything on the actual day…

“You know,” he went on, that wonderfully infuriating smirk still on his face, “it’s not healthy for someone as young as you to be so serious all the time… there’s gonna come a day when you’ll regret being so uptight you know…”

Yes, Defaid… that day did come… but you were already dead…

*******

The storm is breaking in earnest as I ride with the princess out of the palace. She is on the horse in front of me, and waking up in the cool air of the evening storm.
“Impa! What’s happening?”
What’s happening? The fall of the Hylian Empire, is what is happening! However, the princess is most likely not in the state of mind to be told this, so I merely grip the horse tighter, willing it to speed up. As I gallop down the path leading to Castel Town, I hear a scream behind me.

“GANNONDORF! THE SHIEKAH AND THE PRINCESS! THEY RIDE TOWARDS THE TOWN!”
Glancing over my shoulder I see the palace doors swing open, and the vile magus himself thundering after me. Cursing, I look back to the path ahead of me, only to curse again. The gatehouse is full of dead Hylians, and living Greudo. They see us approaching, and scurry to drop the portcullis. Speeding up my horse, I bend forward on her, hoping we will be low enough.

We clear the dropping gate by a hair’s breadth. Looking back, I see Gannondorf screaming at the guards to reopen then gate as he reins his large charger in. Now is the time to put distance between us!

The town square is relatively unoccupied due to the breaking tempest, giving me an open path to the city gates. As we thunder across the lowered bridge, the princess twists in an odd way in front of me. At first I fear she is falling, but she turns back around, and I realize she was only throwing something. Glancing back over my shoulder I see the young boy standing there, staring back to the gates. Gannondorf is there. Focusing all my strength, I begin to weave a Shiekah Shadow Spell.
“Goth Ra Jin Babda de,” I intone “He matha yin gar disda te…”
I repeat the phrase, desperately praying that Gannondorf is not powerful enough to see through the spell. If he cannot we will be invisible. If he can, then I doubt we will last the night. I glance back, Gannondorf is glaring down at the young boy who visited Zelda just days before. I hesitate slightly. The boy cannot possibly stand before him; he will be cut down like an animal to the slaughter. But I cannot return for him, not with the princess struggling on the horse in front of me. There is no choice, I must get her to safety. It is what I swore to do; the boy, though I feel terrible, is beyond my help. But where, in the name of all that is holy, will be safe from that butcher of a wizard?

And thought it pains me sore, I know the one place that will offer some protection.

Off to see King Zola.



*******

“Defaid, please do not be rude…” Fiate was nearly pleading.
“Forgive me if I have a lingering distrust of the Zora,” he replied, arms crossing.
“That’s as may be,” Fiate responded, “but I need them. I cannot fight both the Zora and the Greudo, and I would prefer to fight neither. And you should learn to get over your prejudice.”

I made a mental note to inform Fiate later that Defaid’s family had been slaughtered by the Zora so many years ago, and by the very king entertaining us now. Perhaps it is best to forgive, but some wounds take longer to heal.

The Zora court welcomed our envoy with sufficient pomp and ceremony. Defaid was unusually edgy all evening, but I knew there was no real reason to distrust King Zola, so I was content to let Defaid take my normal role of the pessimistic prophet of doom. Besides, there was too much going on around me to join in Defaid’s gloom. Music, dancers, feasts, speeches and entertainment… but years later as dark rain chased me across Hyrule Plains, only one thing from that evening would still be with me. Defaid’s disgruntled grumble as we parted ways outside my room door.
“Never trust a Zora, Impa…”

If Defaid is watching now, I pray he forgives me for what I am about to do…

*******

King Zola obviously is not overly disturbed by the fact that Hylian Empire has fallen, though the rising power of a Greudo king certainly concerns him. I think he took Princess Zelda in more as a display of continued good-will towards the Gordons then an actual wish to help the Hylian government-in-exile. So I sit now in the rather plain guest room the Zora Court has seen fit to grant us and contemplate my next move.

Zelda has fallen asleep from pure exhaustion. She is curled up on the hard coverless bed that sits in the corner of the room. The Zora do not really mean to offend; they sleep floating in the water and have no real clue as to how “land-dwellers” normally sleep. I sit at a table in the opposite corner, staring glumly at a map. Fiate is dead, and f the palace falls then surely Castle Town is not far behind. Gannondorf may soon control the palace, Castle Town, Hyrule Plains in addition to Greudo Valley, with the rest of Hyrule Proper looking like a ripe fruit for the taking. The Lost Woods will serve as a natural barrier for the land of Turmina, and it is convincible that if the Gordon and Zora nations stay united they could withstand the onslaught of Gannondorf’s forces. That leaves two possible places to flee with the princess: Clock Town in Turmina, and my village in the foothills of Death Mountain. I would go to the Plain Shiekah for help, but thanks to Dega’s treachery, it is unlikely they are still alive. I had heard Gannondorf say the Shiekah were the backbone of the Hylain military himself, and he likely disposed of the Hidden Clan before playing his hand at the palace.

Clock Town would be safer, but for some reason I feel loathed to return there. I spent my youth exiled to that rotting backwater of a city, and I have little desire to force the last Hylain Royal to the same fate. We will go to the village, and work against Gannondorf from the middle of his own regime. I glance over to Zelda’s sleeping form. Living in the very shadow of Gannondorf would aid us in another way as well. Gannondorf will no doubt assume I will seek to hide the child as far from him as possible… and he will no doubt have Garo scouring the south and even into Turmina. But I doubt he would look for her here, particularly if confidentiality becomes our first mode of action. I will tell King Zola that I am sending the princess to the south, and then I shall head to village with young Shiek, last survivor of the Hidden Clan. It looks as though the princess’ Shiekah training is about to come in handy…

*******

Remha always thought I possessed an unusual amount of skill, which I guess was just the fates watching out for the future princess of Hyrule. But when he started me down the path of the Taraja style, he still displayed reserve.
“This is a powerful and mighty tool Impa,” he once told me, “but like any other weapon, it can be used for good or for ill… think carefully anytime you are called on to use it… even if it be by the king of Hyrule himself. Death is a part of life, but no creature’s blood should be shed senselessly…”

I asked him what things were worth killing for, and he seemed pleased that I had thought to ask. Remha was adamant that no list was conclusive, but spoke of honor, justice, and a concept that I did not see as applicable: love… Killing over love? To my young fourteen-winter mind, that did not make a great deal of sense. If another girl tried to steal away Defaid, would I be justified in killing her? I did not believe this was what Master Remha had in mind at all…

Remha went on, not noticing the slight confusion I had over this point, and it never came up again. But t was not until I held Princess in my arms, after swearing to defend her with my life, that I realized what Remha had meant. Perhaps it is something only a person with a close bond of parenting can fully understand. The time when honor, justice, protection, obligation, and affection all synthesize into one concept.

The love of a parent for a child…

*******

“But Impa!”
“Toran, would you please excuse us?”

He nods, messy hair blowing slightly in the stiff wind. The three of us are behind Jethro’s house, where the princess and I have been living for the past three years. Toran give a sympathetic smile towards ‘Shiek’ and leave us alone.

The Princess is glaring at me, anger and wounded pride in her eyes. Arms are crossed over the red Shiekah eye symbol that adorns the chest of her Plain Shiekah style clothing. At fifteen springs she is more rebellious handful then ever. If I thought living outside the pampering life of the palace would shake respect into her, I was sorely mistaken. Now she wants to take her life to the next level and join the scattered resistance fighting back against Gannondorf’s domination of Hyrule Proper.
“Impa,” she begins again, obviously trying to sound more diplomatic, “the fight against Gannondorf-”
“Is not a game, princess,” I cut her off, gesturing dismissively, “you are not even old enough to join a Shiekah rouge regiment, I am not about to-”
“Plarth has a team!” she cuts in, whining in protest.
“Plarth is a full two summers older than you, moreover you are the PRINCESS OF HYRULE, I will not-”
“Exactly!” she interrupts, stamping angrily, “they are MY people… if I do not fight for them now, how can I in good faith rule them later?”
Goddess, the only thing more infuriating then HER, is how much she reminds me of Fiate…
“You didn’t send me to the south all those years ago for a reason, Impa,” she continues, “you kept me up here… you knew this day would come, didn’t you?”
“Yes, princess, I suppose I did… but I still feel you are too young. Do you even know what goes into combating Gannondorf?”
“I know you disappear often… sometimes for as long as three weeks. You say it’s ‘Shiekah Business’ but there’s only two real Shiekah left, so I think it’s more ‘get rid of Ganny business’… I know several of the supply lines Ganny is using to begin his conquest of Turmina, and I can do a lot to stop them… I know-”
“Enough,” I cut in, holding up a hand for silence, “you may engage in light resistance work… LIGHT princess… with Toran. I do not want to hear of you doing something drastic, like confronting a Greudo caravan. They are your people, and it is only right that you want to help, but each must realize that he can only help according to his station… and yours princess, it not to play a large role at this time.”

She excepts this and turns to run back to that unkempt, yet almost adorable, little waif she calls a friend. At least Toran has some skill with his blade… as long as the two avoid anything too spectacular they should be in no real danger. Of course, neither of them has really faced to true horrors of battle yet. Oh, Zelda and Toran have both killed their share of Poes and Skultoids in the plains, but neither have had to look into the eyes of a dieing Greudo, so like your own, or battle the large, heavily armored Skultoids that inhabit so many of the ancient temples, or seen the dark power of Garo Ninja as they silently close in for the kill… I hope for her sake that the princess does not rush headlong into the lifestyle that dominated my youth. I suppose it is natural for parents to want a better life for their children… I wish Defaid was her to give me input.

Sighing, I turn to look up the rise to ‘my house’… the one Defaid built, the one Julia died in, and the one Migrid now uses as a base of command for the underground resistance. Rauru has spoken with me recently from his place in the Temple of Light in the Sacred Realm. He apparently thinks the young lad Link is the legendary Hero of Time that will come in Hyrule’s darkest hour, and the my very own Princess Zelda is the Sage of Wisdom, who will help the hero seal Gannondorf away. Maybe it is true, or maybe it is just Rauru trying his best to sound wise and important… I do not really care anymore, for my past has taught me one thing surer then any other…

The future is unsure, and as unpredictable as the weather of Turmina… enjoy the ones you care for while they are near, for fate can snatch them away at any time.

I love you deeply princess, and I will always be there for you… and I pray everyday that this story will see a happy ending for both of us.

Before there was Light: Part Nine

“Goddess, Impa be glad there are some battles you haven’t fought…”

I smiled, helping Julia back into her chair. It was very early in the morning, and the poor girl had been sick yet again. The pregnancy was so very, very hard on Julia. It must be something about Hylian women; it seems so many of them suffer greatly.
“I cannot believe that I am expected to endure five more months of this,” she muttered, gesturing for me to sit next to her, “and in this forsaken palace… it’s always too hot, or too cold, and the servants hovering all over me aren’t really helping at all.”
“Well, I am indeed sorry,” I smiled, handing her a small cup of herbal tea.
“Oh, not YOU Impa… you’re too much of a friend to be a bother. It’s the poor extra serving staff Fiate detailed to me. I swear Impa, the man approaches everything like a war. Something goes wrong, just dispatch more troops to fix the problem. I can’t seem to shake the nausea, so send in an army of nurses and maids. I need to get out of here!”

I felt sorry for her. Of course, she was experiencing something I never had, and in all honesty likely never will, but it was easy to see the grind it was taking on her. It did not help that Fiate was away in the southeast. I glanced about the room for a blanket as Julia’s shivering increased. In a smaller room I could have adjusted the actual temperature to suit her needs, but all these palace rooms were large and hard to monitor. And perhaps that is why I offered.

“Julia, what if you came to live at my house during the rest of your pregnancy? It would probably be more comfortable for you, and best for your baby. I could arrange it all with the doctors, I even wager they will find it beneficial as well.”
“That would be lovely dear,” Julia smiled back, pulling the blanket I have given her closer, “but it’s not doctors who will be the hardest to convince…”
“Oh you leave Fiate to me,” I laughed, “we both know he is not as strong willed as the general public thinks. All that I need to do is convince him that you will be safer at the house then here and he will fold.”

She smiled and nodded, and then grimaced again.

“Goddess! Impa, I think I am going to get sick again!”

*******

The bell tolls out three. Sighing, I look at the smaller clock that is on my desk, as though the Clock Guard might be wrong for once in his life. Its small hands indicate 3:04. No such luck… looks like another sleepless night for Mistress Impa.

Sighing again, I begin to pace the room. Growling irritability, I force myself to lie on the bed. What is wrong with me tonight? Gannondorf is here, but that has never kept me up before… it is not the princess; she is sleeping soundly in her room. I watched the coming and going today, and it seems as though Gannondorf only brought two attendants, neither of them Garo. The princess is in little to no danger tonight from what I can tell, but I still cannot shake the restless feeling. Sighing, I get up again, and return to my pacing.

Gannondorf arrived late yesterday during my lesson, and I instantly sought out what was going on. To my great vexation I found he was planning on being at the palace for a few weeks, that far from just showing up Fiate had invited him, and that for some reason Fiate had neglected to even TELL me any of this. I had actually shouted at him for a bit over it, spending his ensuing lecture in an obvious state of disgruntled anger. In retrospect, I should really thank the fates that Fiate and I are old friends, otherwise I would probably have wound up rotting in the basement of a Shadow Temple torture chamber about fifteen winters ago…

A light rap on my door draws my attention back to the room. Who is wanting to see me at this hour, and how did they know I was awake? It is a soft knock, fairly low on the door. It must be a younger person, probably Ainee.
“Come,” I call out, loud enough to be heard outside the door, but no further. The door creeks open and a slight, feminine, figure slips through, allowing the heavy wood to close behind her. It’s not Ainee though… unless she has found a way to grow out her hair nearly a foot and dye it yellow-blond in one night.
“Princess?” I am sure surprise must be clear in my voice.
“I needed to talk to you Impa… I hope I didn’t wake you?”
“No, no… I was up,” I reply, gesturing for her to come to the bed. She walks over and sits cross-legged on the bed, giving me a half smile as I sit down across from her. Sitting next to her, I am reminded of how much she resembles Julia. Her mother had the same hair, eyes, and pointed features, not to mention the fact that it seems as though Zelda will be sharing her slight stature. Even at twelve springs, I still tower over the princess and, unless she hits a sudden growth spurt with the next few, I imagine she will barely hit my shoulder. Perhaps it is the memories of Julia that are helping to put me at ease, or the late hour with no sleep, but for some reason I feel exceptionally warm and gentle; as though it would be perfectly natural to rap the princess up in a tight hug.

“I had another dream…” she whispers.
“Was it disturbing?” I ask, trying extra hard to let concern shine through my words and eyes. The princess almost looks shocked.
“Uh, well, not in some ways…” she is obviously thrown off balance by me. It is actually a little depressing to have someone surprised by an open show of caring, particularly Zelda.
“I was standing in my garden,” she goes on, “when an evil red light began to radiate out from Greudo Valley. A black cloud swept out after the light, gobbling up the entirety of Hyrule in a shroud. Then suddenly, a light from the Lost Wood shone out, piercing the darkness and cutting towards me.”
“Well, that does sound rather disturbing…” I mumble, glancing towards the door. As if Garo Ninja were really going to bust it open at that moment… Fate is rarely so manifest…
“That’s not the end though,” Zelda goes on, drawing my attention back to her, “running towards me down the path of light was a boy from the forest. He was a little taller then me, dressed like a Kohria, and there was a blue fairy with him. He ran up to me and gave me the Spiritual Stone from the forest. Then I sent him off to find the others. The whole time, the black cloud was growing and growing, spreading out over Hyrule, but everywhere the boy ran, there was light…” she looks up to me expectantly, “well, what does it mean, Impa?”

What does it mean? Since when I have been a sage?
“Well,” I begin, “from what I could say, it probably means that you and the forest boy will avert some disaster from sweeping Hyrule.”
“I thought that too!” At least she seems visibly relieved about this.
“I also think,” she goes on, lowering her voice as though someone might be listening, “that Gannondorf is the dark cloud from Greudo Valley… I know daddy trusts him, but I think he’s scary and mean… and I know you do to Impa, so don’t try to deny it!”
That is one thing the princess and I are sure to agree on.
“Well, what do you think?” she presses, leaning forward expectantly.
“I think you should get some sleep, princess,” I reply, standing, “we will both be able to think clearer on this in the morning…”
“Can I sleep with you?”
“What?” I am more surprised then incredulous.
“I wanna sleep in here with you…”
“Princess, you are twelve-”
“Impa!” she begs, eyes wide and starting to glisten, “pleeeeeeeeeeeeeese?”
Sighing resignedly, I pull back the covers on my bed and Zelda shoots up onto the hard mattress. I have never taken to palace finery… I slide into my spot next to her. The princess sighs contentedly, and burrows into me. Given that I normally sleep on my back, this more involves her grinding her head between my chin and shoulder and squeezing her arms around me as if I were some giant toy animal.
“You’re soft without your Shiekah leather on…” she whispers.
“Palace born weakness… before I came here I slept armored…” I mutter back.
“Night Impa,” she murmurs into my neck.
“Goodnight princess,” I intone.
“Don’t talk… sing my lullaby,” she commands, squeezing a little tighter to display her affection.
Smiling in the dark, I begin to gently stroke Zelda’s soft hair with my right hand that she has taken shelter under. Softly I begin to hum the lilting tune of the Royal Family’s traditional lullaby. After Zelda’s breath has become deeper and more rhythmic, I whisper out the words into her sleeping ear.

Princess dear,
Safe in here,
Let my love hold you tight.

Dreams come and go,
Like winds to and fro,
But love will stay through time…

Princess dear,
Have no fear,
My love will hold you tight…

*******

I am no doctor, nor have I spent a great deal of time helping women birth, but I knew something was wrong.

Julia had been in labor for many hours, and her moans of pain and protest seemed to be lessening only for lack of stamina to keep crying. The best three midwives in Hyrule were present, along with noted surgeon Jethro Skutulia, but they all seemed at a loss. The women were still trying to aid Julia when Jethro took me aside.

This was before the curse, and Jethro was a tallish man, who was slightly on the heavy side, balding with a well kept beard. Both skilled and rich beyond imagination, Fiate was one of the few men in all Hyrule who could afford such a doctor. Jethro is, to the best of my knowledge, a quarter Shiekah, and I have my suspicions that Shiekah magic bolsters his healing skills. However, the half-breed’s eyes were dark with worry as he spoke to me in hushed tones.

“Mistress Impa,” he began, casting a worried glance over his shoulder, “I no longer think it possible to save both the mother and the child. If this continues, they will both die. I strongly recommend that we finish the birth with a cesarean; in all likelihood the queen will die, but we might still save the babe…”
I remember wondering why he told me this, but the harsh reality was soon broke. Julia was a queen, her husband Fiate was the King of Imperial Hyrule. Jethro does not wish to make the decision to end such a person’s life; he’d rather cover himself by shuffling the choice onto me. The operation would place Julia in a position were her survival was highly unlikely, but to forgo it would also be highly dangerous. Perhaps ideally, Fiate himself would be forced to deal with this, but there is some old, silly, Hylian superstition that no male other then the surgeon should witness a woman give birth.

I was at a loss. What would Julia want?
“Mistress Impa… I need to know what to do…”
Something in me snapped that I do not think ever fully healed. My right arm shot out, fingers circling Jethro’s throat.
“YOU are the surgeon, figure it out! Save them both in whatever way possible, or you will have more deadly people to fear then Lord Fiate!”
“Yes, Mistress,” he gurgled through my iron grip. I released him, glaring hard.
“I think a cesarean is the most logical course of action for both of them,” he murmured bowing once, “but you may want to let Lord Fiate know the situation.”

An hour later, the piercing cry of an infant tasting air for the first time rang out. Fiate had joined me by that time, throwing aside tradition the moment he heard what was happening. There was odd splattering sound, and something like water dripping on the floor. And then Jethro emerged from behind the sheet that partitioned the room, clothes bloody. The glance he gave us before intently starting at his hands as he rubbed a towel over them told me everything; Julia was dead. Fiate must have seen it too… he gave a small cry and sank to his knees.
“Go to her Fiate,” Jethro advised, gesturing to the curtain, “she has lost too much blood, and does not have long…”
Fiate nearly bowled Jethro over as he darted through to his wife. Jethro looked wearily over to me with forlorn eyes. Greedy and somewhat of a rat, Jethro DID have compassion, even before his curse.
“I tried everything…” he murmured, more to himself then me I think, “potions, fresh fungi, Shiekah healing, even the dart arts to keep her soul sealed to the body… I was not strong enough…”
I left him muttering in the room and went to see Julia.

There was blood everywhere; on the walls, the floor, knives and other instruments scattered around… and not all of it was Hylian. I saw a headless chicken tossed into the corner, and shuddered. Apparently, Jethro HAD tried everything; dark arts included…

Fiate was kneeling near the head of the bed, grasping Julia’s hand and starting at her with tear filled eyes. The new baby was in his other arm, cradled against his chest. Julia’s face was a pale I have seen all too often. Not the pale of a scholar stuck in a basement, or even the pale of someone in the most immense pain, but the pale of someone drained… someone who no longer has anything left under the skin. A blanket covered her from the chest down, but the deep crimson stains still spreading in it gave me an indication of what she must look like beneath its folds.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she Fiate…” her voice was a raspy whisper that I could barely hear at the foot of the bed, “just like we said she’d be…”
“Julia…” Fiate croaked out, tears starting to spill.
“I don’t want to call her after mother anymore… Let’s call her Zelda… I like that name… it’s so pretty…”
“Just like her,” Fiate managed between gulps of air, still trying to choke back his tears.
“Impa,” she smiled weakly over to me, “please… help Fiate look after Zelda… he’s barely more then a big kid himself… can’t have him raise her all by himself…”
I nodded, tears beginning to fill my eyes as well.
“I swear, Julia… nothing will ever happen to her…”
“You’re… so… over…. dramatic…” her breath was becoming shallow, and talking was obviously becoming impossible. I had been on many battle fields; I knew Julia was close to Death’s Door. Julia’s eyes closed, a peaceful smile touching her lips.
“Julia?” Fiate cried, leaning closer, “please, stay with me… we need you!”
“Love her twice, dear…” she whispered, eyes still closed, “once… once… for each of us….
“Julia!” Fiate cried again, grip tightening on her hand, “Please! Don’t leave me!”
“Shhhh, silly…. You’ll wake the baby….”

And then she was gone…

Fiate moaned, but held Zelda tight. Hunching slightly, he cradled the babe and hugged his departed wife. I was only able to stand there, arms limp at my sides, hands clinched into fists. I would not sleep that night, staying with Fiate next to Julia’s body for the whole vespers. We grieved by the bedside all night, taking turns cradling and feeding Zelda. At last, around the third bell, I began to weep. I cried as I had not since the Shiekah runner had told me of Defaid’s death. I wept for my husband seasons dead, my friend newly departed, and the pain of a father and daughter that had lost so much.

Jethro would later tell me there was no way Zelda should have survived the operation either; that she should have died along with Julia. He has actually confessed to me that as the operation proceeded, there was a good chance that the opposite would happen… Julia living to morn a dead daughter. He, to the best of my knowledge, still has no idea how the girl lives. But I think I do. As Rauru has said, Hylian royal women possess a magic of their own… often untapped… and she DID name the child Zelda…

Zelda… born from death…

Zelda… an old Hylian word…

Zelda… Julia had named her daughter ‘Life’…

Before there was Light: Part Eight

It's short... sue me...

The sound of elder Marte’s voice jars me out of my contemplation. She is standing before the clan, giving the normal vespers chant in a level measured tone. Soon the princess and I will be back on our way to Fiate and the palace. Sighing, I rise as Marte finishes the chant, dismissing the clan to their night tasks. I walk towards the princess, only to have several young Shiekah dart past me. When I arrive near the princes’ seat, there are already three children around her, all talking in hurried and hushed tones.

“Julia, there’s no training tonight…” a short female who looks to be a few years younger then Zelda comments.
“I know, Ainee,” she replies, gesturing at the two others, “let’s go play a trick on Master Barck!”
Giggling in a very Zelda fashion the other two nod their agreement. Apparently the princess’ infectiously happy and spunky personality has spread. No wonder Marte was upset at my arrival; she and the entire camp are probably loathed to see Zelda go.

“Julia,” I cut in, stepping up to the group. The three Shiekah gasp, and quickly bow. The princess bows as well, but it is obvious her three cohorts have a nervous fear that she is missing.
“Mistress Impa!” she replies, smiling broadly, “wonderful to see you!”
“Perhaps,” I begin, knowing she will probably hate what is coming next, “but time will not allow me to stay long; or you either for that matter. Come, we need to go, your father will be beside himself with worry.”
Her face obviously falls at this, red eyes displaying a slight pout. She turns to her companions and makes a gesture for them to give us some space.
“Could you let talk in private for a second?” she asks. The young ones look to me, and I nod, wondering what Zelda wants.

“Look, Impa,” she begins shifting her weight back and forth nervously, “I know we HAVE to go back, even if I don’t want’a, but I was wondering if,” her eyes are refusing now to look at me, as though she knows this is a request bound to fail, “well, see, I found Ainee hiding back behind a rock way out past the training grounds, where no one would ever go, I mean I was there looking for a secret hideout for our gang, so even really I wouldn’t have been out there, but anyway, she tried real hard to act normal when I saw her, but I could tell she’d been crying, and so I asked her what was wrong, and at first she didn’t want’a tell me, but then I promised to keep it a secret, and I’m only tellin’ you because I have to, and-”
“Princess,” I cut in, “breath.”
She nods and takes in a huge gulp of air.
“Now,” I continue as she re-inflates her lungs, “you are obviously leading up to a request, and I am very busy. Could we skip our little history lesson and actually deal with the issue?”
She nods, and finally looks up at me with large, pleading, slightly watering, eyes.
“Can Ainee come back with us? Her family has all died, so there’s no reason to keep her here…”

So, that what she wants… Ainee must be recently orphaned, and snuck off to give vent to her feelings. The princess must have stumbled across her and wanted to help her. I sigh slightly at that… the princess really does have a good heart, even if she does sometimes lack logistical sense.
“Princess, you know that is not my decision. As an orphan of the Hidden Plain Clan, Ainee is under the supervision of Elder Marte. I suggest you ask her if you want to see this happen.”
“I was hoping you could ask for me…” she smiles up at me, large eyes still pleading. Of course she wants that. It is easy enough for an elder to ignore the request of a child, especially one not of the clan, but a request of an elder? That is not something done lightly, even for another elder, and especially not if the elder asking is Mistress Impa.
“Princess,” I sigh.
“Impa!” she whines, “I promised her that when I left, she could come with us!”
“Enough!” I cry, throwing up my hand in surrendered, “I will inquire with Mistress Marte as to the girl’s training, but you should learn to not give promises you cannot keep, Princess Zelda. It is not a good habit for a future rule to cultivate.”
“Yes, Impa, sorry Impa,” she replies, face beaming happily in a way that connotes no remorse whatsoever.

There are likely only a few hours left till dawn as I finally leave the hidden camp, the princess and our newest Palace Shiekah in tow. Apparently Ainee was quite a skilled little Shiekah, and Marte was less then thrilled to give her over to live the palace. However, she also knows I train all the Shiekah living in the palace in the coveted Taraja style, so it makes sense for one of her best martial artists to travel and study under me. From what I had gathered, the princess had also taken quickly to her training, and I am already planning the next stage of her training in my mind. Rauru had warned me all those years ago to show her what Shiekah knowledge I could, and I am kicking myself for lost time already. I glance back to where Ainee and the princess are giggling over a shared secret.

I hope I am doing what is best for both of them…

*******

“I just heard about what happened.”

It was so surreal, and Julia’s voice sounded as though it came from far away, or under water.

“Fiate would have come too, but he wanted to leave immediately for the front and personally see to Defaid’s remains…”

Somehow we made it to the table and sat down. I remember the way it took all my strength to keep from physically shaking.

“…he feels terrible about this Impa; we all do!”

And then I broke down. My tears flooded as they never had before, and Julia grabbed me tight, crying with me. She consoled and commiserated with me for hours, until at last I had no water left in me for tears. Then she smiled at me with those large blue eyes.

“Come back to the palace and live with us, ok?”

Mutely I nodded. Julia was willing to comfort me, but it would not be long before this too was stripped from me.

******

“Sigme!” I call, pulling up my left hand and balling the right into a fist at waist level as I fall into the closed Taraja stance.
“Sigme!” the Shiekah before me call back as they mirror the movement. In our native southern tongue, the word means ‘start,’ or ‘to put into motion’ to be literal.
“Ta!” I call, whipping my open left hand away from my body, as though blocking a strike.
“Ta!” my five students call back, copying the block.
“Ra!” I call, quirking back the arm to trap the imaginary arm giving the blow.
“Ra!” they chorus, repeating the grapple.
“Ja!” I cry, driving forward off my back foot to uncoil into a powerful punch from my right fist, rising into a chest-high strike.
“Ja!” they call out, though the results certainly vary in their success.

We have repeated this ten times when I decided to evaluate.
“Reh!” I call, or ‘cease motion,’ and sink to my knees, resting back on my heals. My students follow suit and bow slightly, waiting to see what will come next.

Taking in a breath, I look over them, trying to gauge how taxing the routine was for each of them. Young Keef is smirking and barely breathing heavily, though some sweat is quite visible under the black hair tangled over his forehead. Difa and her brother Migfa are both gulping down air, though they are obviously trying to hide it. They have been studying with me for less then half a season, so I cannot begrudge them a little less stamina. Karath has is ever present emotionless face on, and though his breathing has obviously quickened, he seems to be keeping with the pace nicely. Ainee, like Keef, seems to be barely strained at all. At two years, she has been my student longer then any, sans Keef, so this is to be expected. I must admit I have been impressed with her progress. Ainee is fast, agile, and extremely flexible. Keef might be my best student now, but it will not be long before Ainee passes him. She is also much more agreeable then Keef. Both Plain Shiekah, they have little in common beyond their mutual orphan status. Keef is skilled, but arrogant and self-focused that will keep him from ever being a true master, even if he attains that rank. By contrast, Ainee is a kind girl, who I can only see using these martial arts in defense of her close friends. She is smiling at me now with the large violet eyes, expectantly waiting for the next phase of the lesson.
“Keef,” I begin, nodding to him, “please demonstrate what we did again, explaining the meaning behind each step of the process.”
He does, and I reward him with a nod of approval. Gesturing for Ainee to rise, I lead into my next lesson.
“The combo you just learned is a powerful tool in the Taraja arsenal, but do not think it makes you invincible. Ainee, come at me…”

It might sound like a strange command to some, but fighting with the instructor is a very common occurrence in Shiekah training. Ainee does not hesitate for a moment. Falling into the closed stance, she moves cautiously forward. I ready myself across from her, falling into a similar, yet open stance. She darts in, trying a rush I taught them several lessons ago. I easily spin out of the way of the kanitil, and she skids to a spot a few feet past me.
“If I open my stance, I increase my mobility. Keef, join her.” Fighting two opponents can be risky, and these are my two best students, but there is little chance I will lose to them.

Keef cartwheels left to place me between Ainee and himself. He could have easily done it by sidestepping, but Keef always has had a flair for flash. Keef is obviously experimenting with a more open stance; he will soon learn the downsides this can have. Ainee is sticking with the basics she is familiar with, again cautiously moving in. She obviously realizes Keef will likely leave her open to attack if it means victory for himself. While Ainee is the less experienced of the two fighters, Keef could certainly use a lesson in humility. Instead of eliminating Ainee so I can focus fully on the stronger fighter, I will make Keef my example. Feigning a rush at Ainee, I dart suddenly towards Keef, standing open and squared in front of him. His eyes widen with shock, but he quickly ducks low to the left. Quicker then I had imagined, but reaction time will hurt him this time; he has dodged before I committed to a blow. In his new open stance, Keef has left me hundreds of body pressure points to hit. I quickly reorient my strike, poking the artery leading up to Keef’s left arm right under the arm joint sharply with two fingers. It will hurt like kesse bite, and immobilize the arm for a few hours, but he will suffer no real damage. Whipping my left arm around in a natural follow through, I give Keef’s right breast an open palmed strike. The sternum would have been the target if he were my real enemy, but there is no reason to force him to endure that much pain. Keef is obviously beaten, but he absorbs the blow well, allowing the force of it to flow through him, pushing him back and twisting to fall forward onto his arms rather then the back. I whirl quickly, knowing Ainee is probably on me already. I hunch as I do so, left leg kicking out to sweep as I spin. Ainee is indeed right behind me, and she gasps slightly as she jumps the sweep kick. I am instantly back in my stance as she lands, closed right across from me.
“RA!” she cries out as her left leg kick flashes out for an angled ax kick. I lean back, letting the kick brush by me. I scoot back slightly, bending at my waist to dodge the right mid-level side kick that follows the ax strike.
“JA!” Ainee calls, left fist shooting out for my temple. My right arm flashes up, parrying the blow and leaving her open to counter-attack. My left hand shoots out towards Ainee’s throat on instinct, first two fingers ready for a powerful poke. If I finish the jab, I would fracture her laranx. It would instantly begin to swell, and she would be dead by strangulation in seconds. However, my control is not so bad as to slip in this instance. Ainee visibly flinches as my hand darts in, but when she opens her eyes she will find by finger a hairs breath from the vital spot. She swallows at the near fatal hit, and I actually feel the movement with my fingers.

“Enough,” I command, turning to see how Keef is. He has pushed himself into a half-sitting position, left hand propping his weight while the right rubs at his sore chest. Nodding to him, I address my students.
“How did I defeat Keef? What weakness did he display?”
“You’re too damn fast,” Keef growls, glaring darkly at the ground, “I couldn’t get my arms around to block you.”
“Was that because he was so open?” Migfa queries, hesitancy in his voice, “he was able to dart and pivot faster, but once you got in on him all his vital spots were there for you to strike.”
“Exactly…” I reply, nodding once, “there is a balance in all things. Never think that a perfect stance will prevent all blows or allow you to deliver a strike that cannot be blocked. You must always be aware of your opponent, where he is, what is his stance, how best to counter it… no fight can be completely pre-planned.”
Keef has retaken his feet, though his arm still hangs limply at his side.
“But what of the Kenshi Strike?” he asks, eyes narrowing, “they say it can’t be blocked… they say it can kill with one strike… they say only a true master of the Taraja Style can perform it…”
The Kenshi Strike? Who has been telling you tales of things best left unsaid Keef?
“Then it is indeed unfortunate there have only ever been seven true masters of the Taraja Style, young Keef,” I reply, intentional vague. It is never good for one so young to look with awe on the Toys of Death. The Kenshi Strike is indeed a weapon of immense power, and it is far better if only those old enough to hate killing come to possess it.
“And, Mistress Impa, are you one of them?”
So, he wants to persist in this?
“Young Keef, need I remind you of your station… do not presume to question my status.”
“Of course not Mistress,” he replies, ducking his head, “forgive me… I was merely trying to ask if you knew of the Kenshi Strike…”
“I know of it,” I reply honestly enough, “enough to know it is a skill best left to your betters young Keef. Even if a warrior possesses knowledge of the strike it does not ensure victory.”

It looks as though he is about to press further, when a young Hylian lad runs into the practice ring.
“Mistress Impa!” he cries, breathing hard from his sprint, “Captain Prethius send a message.”
Turning, I give a dismissive wave to my Shiekah.
“Go, but do not wander too far… I may have need of you. Ainee, stay with me.”
They all bow, and begin to disperse. Turning my attention back to the page I nod for him to give the report. The boy was still gasping his air, but he had recovered somewhat.
“Mistress, the captain said that The Magus is here… he said you would want to know…”
Gannondorf? Why is HE here… I nod my thanks to the boy and dismiss him with a wave.

“Ainee,” I murmur, turning towards her, “Please go to the princess’ garden and wait with her. I will be there soon.”
“Ay,” she bows and runs off in the direction of Zelda’s probable location.
I watch her leave then turn towards Fiate’s war-room. That is likely where I will find he and Gannondorf. I have no trust for that man, and even less with him around Fiate…