As fast as they dared, Link and Brigo hastened along the ledge jutting out from the northern Dueling Peak. Neither Hylian knew how much time had passed since their successful “flight” from the tower. They knew only the fatigue their bodies currently felt -- that and the relentless stinging from scratched and bruised hands that half-blindly groped the mountain face to ensure they did not fall off the ledge. Even the light from that night’s nearly full moon was of little help in the narrow canyon that divided the twin mountains.

The companions heard no sign of pursuit from behind. Either the bokoblins had been unable to find a path along the narrow northern bank of the Squabble, or their quarry had outdistanced them. Link was willing to let either possibility be true as long as it meant their reaching the stable safely.

The canyon-funneled wind cut strongly here, but the pair’s flight created enough warmth to combat it. Brigo was leading, one of his hands using his spear to feel out the ledge’s path. Link could not believe it had already carried them this far.

Just as that thought entered his head, Link half-stumbled into his companion’s back. Brigo reached wildly behind him, and Link immediately grabbed him by the pack strapped to his back and pulled him backward. The two tumbled in a heap, though still safely on the ledge.

“Sorry… lad,” Brigo gasped. “Ledge… ends… here.”

Slowly getting to his feet, Link felt his way along the mountain face while testing the ground with his right foot. Sure enough, he found what Brigo’s spear had already discovered. The ledge ended abruptly, leaving an unknown drop to the ground before them.

“We could... use my paraglider again,” Link suggested breathily. “The ledge has hardly risen, if at all, and I don’t remember it being more than three or four of our heights off the ground where we started.”

Brigo’s ragged breaths punctuated the time he took to evaluate the idea.

“This bank… is narrow, Link,” the patrolman countered. “I’m no too keen… on jumpin’ down there wi’out knowin’... what we’re jumpin’ into… even wi’ yer bonnie sail. An’ we can no light a torch if the pigswine be nearby.”

Link nodded to himself, thinking. Finally, a compromise presented itself.

“Let me get behind you. If you’ve got flint in that pack of yours, strike it only until you’ve got an idea of what’s below. Then we can make the jump.”

A hand sporting a ripped glove and no few scratches from their journey found Link’s shoulder and clapped it heartily.

“That’s usin’ the ol’ noodle, lad,” Brigo gamely said. “Gimme a tick to fish out the flint.”

While the patrolmen began sifting through his pack, Link carefully maneuvered around him so he was between his friend and any possible pursuers behind them in the canyon. A clack of steel on stone told him his friend was trying to briefly illuminate their path.

“‘Tis narrow as I said, but a straight jump out’ll do the trick,” Brigo announced. “Dig out that contraption o’ yers and let’s be off.”

Link removed the paraglider from his belt and worked his way next to Brigo at the ledge’s edge. They had each taken a handle apiece when an unnerving screech rent the air, echoing eerily in the canyon.

“Keese!” Brigo hissed. “Filthy lil’ air vermin! No tellin’ how many. Time fer us to be off, lad!”

Link did not bother to ask what a keese was. Knowledge could come later. Survival was now. Without bothering to count down, the Hylians leaped off the ledge and into the darkness.

The fall was considerably shorter than it had been from the Sheikah Tower to the ledge. Their feet touched grass in almost no time. Their landing was accompanied by another screech from the pursuing keese. It was closer, this time.

“Hylia’s hair, they're onto us, lad!” Brigo cursed. “Nothin’ for it but to run an’ hope we make it!”

The patrolman raced forward, letting his spearpoint drag along the mountain wall to ensure they did not stray into the neighboring river. Link ran just behind him, his short sword out in case the keese found them before they reached the stable.

Another screech, then another. Link heard the faint flapping of wings. Not one set, but many. Suddenly Link remembered the bat-like creature he had unintentionally slain on the top of Mount Hylia and knew that was the “air vermin” that pursued him and his friend.

A sharp cry echoed in the canyon, but this one came from Brigo rather than their hunters.

“The stable!” the patrolman cried triumphantly while still running as fast as possible. “Nearly there, lad!”

Just past Brigo’s running form, Link saw pinpricks of firelight emerge from the darkness. Yet another screech sounded behind them as the keese’s telltale flapping sounded closer behind them. His side burning, Link ran flat-out toward the lights, no longer staying behind Brigo now that they were emerging from the canyon. He prayed that no stray rocks or bushes tripped them up over the final stretch of this race between life and death.

A high-pitched voice rang out in the darkness.

“What business have you at a stable of Hyrule?” it challenged loudly. “Answer or be slain, stranger!”

Brigo’s gasping answer shouted in reply.

“Giro, yeh daft twit, it’s me an’ a friend! A flock o’ keese are after us! Rouse an’ raise yer bows, lad!”

A horn sounded ahead from where the unknown voice had accosted them. Other voices shouted in response, accompanied by the sounds of men running to arms.

A blaze of firelight flared from above the scattering of smaller torches Link had seen before. Its source was an enormous flame contained in a raised, metal bowl. The contraption illuminated what could only be the stable, an oversized, multi-sided tent attached to a series of horse stalls. Some of the animals therein were screaming, while others -- Horses used to this sort of thing, Link thought -- seemed perfectly calm. The dirt ground around the stable was packed flat by the constant trodding of boot and hoof.

Roughly a score of men and women, all armed, emerged from the stable and rushed toward Link and Brigo. One man had climbed a ladder from inside the stable to man one of the small wooden platforms that ringed the upper portion of the tent. On each of them, a large crossbow was fixed atop a small wooden pole from where it could be swiveled about.

Link did not stop to admire it. Instead he turned about so as to face the enemy with the stablemen, and not a moment too soon. The torchlight had exposed the keese, which immediately dove toward the Hylians.

Link had already drawn his bow, as had the stablemen around him. Perhaps it was imagination, but the fluttering creatures’ deadly dive seemed centered upon him. He sighted along an already nocked shaft, focusing on the lurid yellow eye of the frontmost keese plummeting directly toward him. His arrow was joined by others, most of which found their targets among the tightly packed swarm.

The creatures wheeled and broke off, screeching in rage at the timely answer from the small band. The fifty or so that remained regrouped in the air, then zoomed in from the right side in an effort to outflank the bows.

Link and the stablemen turned to meet them and loosed another volley. More keese fell, leaving the survivors to again flee to the sky. Their furious screeches echoed unnervingly, but they did not risk a third attack. Instead, they circled well out of range overhead, then retreated back into the canyon within Dueling Peaks.

No cheers emitted from the Hylians. Most simply lowered their bows and lingered a few moments longer to ensure threat had passed. Once they were satisfied, they shouldered their weapons and made their way back to the stable, some in small groups with those they knew well.

Link turned to do the same just as three men were walking up to meet him. One was Brigo, his familiar, large pack of supplies and long spear now absent. To his right was a short, portly stableman with closely cropped brown hair. The other man was taller than Link, but well short of Brigo’s stork-like height. His dark brown hair was braided down each side of his head, and he sported a curling mustache of the same color. His head was topped with a hat fashioned to mimic the same multi-sided shape as the stable tent, and it was him that Brigo introduced first.

“Link, this is Rensa, Equerry of Dueling Peaks Stable,” the patrolman said with a weary gesture. “An’ this scoffin’ windbag is the great Giro, who nearly shot us in the ruddy dark!”

The rotund patrolman shrugged none too apologetically at this.

“S’not my fault,” Giro replied sulkily. “You could’ve been a couple lizalfos for all I knew, running that fast in the dead of night!”

Link dismissed any fault-finding with a clasp of the patrolman’s forearm and a smile.

“You didn’t shoot us, friend Giro,” Link reassured him. “What’s more, you made sure this beanpole and I survived the night.”

Giro perked up mightily, though whether it was over Link’s praise for him or playful insult at Brigo’s expense was unclear. Rensa, meanwhile, stepped forward and offered a hand that Link met with his own.

“Well met, Master Link,” Rensa greeted in a startlingly deep voice. Between that and the firmness of his handshake, Link could see why he had been chosen to be Dueling Peaks’ leader. “We are happy to aid you or anyone under siege from nightspawn. Please, come out of the night and into our stable.”

“Thank you, Rensa,” Link replied warmly. “We are grateful for your welcome.”

The four men turned to make their way back to the stable, from which light shone brightly through a tent flap that had been left open for their return. Brigo was bringing Link up to speed as they walked.

“You lads made short work o’ those air vermin,” he nodded happily. “We three were in the stable. There’s allus two or three who stay as a last line o’ defense for those unable or unlearned to fight. What was it, Rensa, four little ‘uns an’ a pair o’ mothers?”

Rensa nodded as they reached the tent flap, where he allowed the other three to enter first.

“They arrived two days ago from Ovli Plain, near Lake Jarrah,” he confirmed. “Ganonspawn ran them out. Only one had a husband. Now, neither does.”

Link’s concerned interest in the tale was momentarily distracted by his first sight of the stable’s interior. The entire floor was made of slatted wood on which booted steps clunked intermittently. Four-poster beds were lined up against one quarter of the widely angled tent walls, and Link saw two were already in use in the still-dark hours of early morning. Lanterns hung from wooden beams that helped support the tent, most of them now lit in the aftermath of the brief battle with the keese. Those with whom Link had fought were seated at several of the round wooden tables clustered by another portion of the tent wall. Many of them drank from wooden pints undoubtedly provided by the stable. Immediately next to the tent door through which they had just entered sat a u-shaped counter, where another braided and mustached man was keeping busy providing drinks and consulting a parchment.

“That is my brother, Tasseren,” Rensa offered. “It is a running joke that Hylia wanted twins stationed at the Dueling Peaks Stable. Whether it is funny or fate, we are content to do what needs doing in these parts. Tasseren! Get us four pints, will you? I must speak with these three.”

Rensa’s twin nodded and immediately filled four wooden mugs with a frothy liquid issued from a barrel behind him. After sliding them toward the grateful foursome, he jotted down a note on the parchment.

“He is a good man, Tasseren, but as reserved as Brigo here is rowdy,” Rensa murmured for Link’s benefit. He nodded the group toward one of the empty tables somewhat apart from those already seated. Brigo did not wait until they sat, however, to return the conversation to its previous subject.

“Yeh said those women an’ their young ‘uns came from Ovli Plain?” Brigo asked with a note of surprise. “Why the devil didn’ they jus’ head over to Hateno Village?”

Rensa did not meet Brigo’s questioning look, but his hand asked him to keep his voice down before answering.

“That is what I wish to speak about,” Rensa said quietly.

They did not talk again until they were seated and had taken a couple of healthy draughts from their pints. The brew lent Link a warmth he had not known was needed after a full night’s flight through the canyon. Despite the ominous tone of Rensa’s previous words, Brigo and Giro were clearly at ease enough to see which of them could down his entire mug first in one go. Giro won, forcing a muttering Brigo to hand over a small, green gem Link could not identify.

“If you are done drinking the stable dry,” Rensa interrupted wryly before continuing in earnest. “Firstly, I am glad you are all right, Brig. More than two weeks is a long time for anyone to be out.”

Brigo waved off Rensa’s concern. “Yeh’ve no right to be worryin’ yer great braided head over meh. I ken fend for mehself, though truth be told,” he admitted belatedly, “Link here did pull meh fat out o’ the fire at Proxim Bridge.”

Rensa nodded as he shifted his gaze to Link.

“Brig told me of your skills,” the equerry explained. “He is not given to blind praise when it comes to food or fighting, so I know you are truly a gifted warrior. You showed as much tonight by joining us despite the hard road you ran during the night. I thank you for that.”

Link was not sure what to say, so he simply nodded and took another drink to hide his discomfort with the praise being heaped upon him.

Rensa, meanwhile, had shifted his attention back to Brigo.

“In all, how many do you think you saw?” he asked the patrolman.

“Including the three Link put down and one I took care of the day before that, nearly two score,” Brigo answered while shaking his head. “Mind yeh, most were part o’ that large group I already told yeh about. Never seen a brace that big before, not e’en in Tabantha. I don’ know what they were doin’, but it can no be anythin’ good, can it?”

Brigo briefly glanced at Link at the end of his report, all but confirming he had not divulged Link’s story to the equerry. Link kept his eyes on his mug, but nodded ever so slightly to show he understood and appreciated his friend’s confidence.

“Two score bokoblins?!” Giro’s voice was very nearly a squeak, one that belied his rotund form. “What in the name of blessed Hylia are that many doing in one place?”

Silence met the question. Link knew why he and Brigo were not answering, but he was surprised to see Rensa being equally pensive while rotating his half-empty mug in his hands. Brigo, apparently, noticed the equerry’s behavior as well.

“Spit it out, Rensa,” Brigo said bluntly, if quietly enough so those at the other tables would not overhear. “What is it that yeh know? Does it have to do wi’ those two widows yeh was talkin’ about earlier?”

Rensa nodded while still keeping his eyes on his mug.

“You are right, Brig, that they should have fled to Hateno Village,” the equerry answered slowly. “It is closer. The passage easier. They did not because they could not. They had no safe path to the village.”

“What rubbish is that, they ‘aven’t got a path?” Brigo snorted. “There’s a road south o’ the plain that leads straight to the village, o’ at least there was three moons ago.”

Rensa lifted his eyes now, the lantern light playing off their seriously drawn features.

“You misunderstand,” the equerry grimly corrected him. “They had no safe path. The woods just west of the village are overrun by Ganonspawn.”