Title: What Was Lost

Author: Alex Foster

Category: Action/Adventure

Rating: R (For violence and adult themes, don't say you weren't warned.)

Summary: Qulanda's story did not end with Path of Sins. Falling in with a sea captain obsessed with vengeance, Link's guide finds herself and her priorities tested when pirates take all that is precious to her. Lost and alone in a maelstrom of things beyond her control, she must find a way to stop the pirates and reclaim what was lost. A story of the sea, of revenge, and of the lengths obsession will drive one to.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Nintendo. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

Dedication: This story is dedicated to Lori who always goes far above and beyond the call of duty to make sure I shine.

Author's Notes: This story was a natural progression for me. I knew when I was still working on Path of Sins that I was going to have to expand Qulanda's story, if only for no other eyes but my own. Her character enraptured me and made me curious to learn what happened after she left Link and journeyed to Cape Town. I knew the basics but was unprepared for how emotional it would be to write this story. Terry Brooks once wrote that if a writer doesn't wonder what happened to his or her characters after the story is completed, that writer never cared enough during the writing process and doesn't deserve to know. If that is true, then I can only say this to whatever or whoever sparked the character of Qulanda within me: Thank you for making me care.

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What though the field be lost?

All is not lost; the unconquerable Will,

And study of revenge, immortal hate,

And courage never to submit or yield:

And what else is not to be overcome?

John Milton, Paradise Lost

All sailors have an instinctive fear of fire. Just the smell of smoke was enough to rouse even the most drunken sailor to attention. Qulanda Rinter, former guide through the Wasteland of Canor, inched around the crowd that had gathered by the riverfront for a better look.

It was night and she was far from the nearest street lantern; wrapped in a dark cloak Qulanda moved silently and invisibly around the crowd. Across the narrow river, in one of the wealthier sections of Cape Town, was the fire. Long tongues of flame reached into the black sky from one of the townhouses. The gently moving water before Qulanda reflected the fire. If the fire didn't carry the ability to be so destructive, the sight would have been beautiful.

From her vantagepoint, Qulanda could see the water brigade of citizens that bravely fought the fire. Bucket after bucket they beat the fire back and kept it from spreading to the other nearby townhouses.

"They got it now," one of the crusty sailors in the crowd said. Several other grainy voices agreed and within minutes the crowd started to disperse. Sea salts that time forgot or simply no longer wanted wandered away and vanished into the night.

Qulanda continued to watch. She was not a sailor but knew enough to respect fire. She had seen the destructive nature of fire first hand growing up in her town of Visola. She'd seen businesses ended and families put out by fire.

Qulanda wondered about the family that lived in that townhouse. Was it a young family just starting out, or an old family in the twilight of its existence? Either way, she knew, tomorrow morning would bring confusion, anger, and terrible sadness.

The dark clad woman watched from underneath the cowl of her hood for several more moments, the firelight catching the sadness in her eyes she felt for the victims, and then turned back to the darkness.

Cape Town, like many of the port cities in Hyrule and Calatia, was set up in a spiral pattern around the waterways. To one side of Cape Town was the Great Hyrulian Sea and to the other was the Werth River. The mighty river that bisected the entire Wasteland of Canor cut through the center of Cape Town before emptying into the sea. That watery line of division separated more than just the north and south parts of town; it was the line between poor and rich.

At some time in the town's history, the flow of rupees had shifted decidedly to the north. The merchants and ship owners that brought money and life to the city all settled in the north while the dockworkers, laborers, sailors, and other assorted dregs went south. The obvious advantages of money were readily apparent in the north: lanterns set on poles along each street, stronger presence of the civil guard, coaches for hire, and busy restaurants and theaters. The southside was dirty, dark, and unsafe. It was the place people came to take part in unscrupulous deeds.

Less obvious, however, was the fact that most of the rupees flowing into the north had since dried up. The water lanes going to Calatia and the islands surrounding Canor were no longer secure. Pirates had been plundering shipping boats and were slowly killing Cape Town.

Walking along the Werth River on the southside of town, Qulanda didn't care about any of that. Her business in Cape Town had nothing to do with stopping the piracy; she wanted only to find her missing lover, Penda Frye. A fellow guide, Penda had taken a job escorting young men down the Werth so they could find work. Once in Cape Town, Penda had written Qulanda saying that she was going to stay for a while and earn enough rupees for them to leave their village forever. Her letters stopped, however, and she effectively vanished not long after saying that she was going to help stop the pirates.

All Qulanda had ever wanted was to live quietly with Penda somewhere free of judgement and persecution. She didn't care where, or how they lived, just so they were together. The time apart had hardened Qulanda, but she remained true to one cause: find Penda and bring her home.

Qulanda turned away from the river and began working her way into the mazelike street system of the southside. The money she had earned from her last job would allow her to stay in one of the better inns on the northside, but the type of people she needed to contact for information were found only in the south.

Qulanda moved down one dark street after another without thought. She had been in this town for months and had quickly learned her way around. A by-product of her years spent as a guide. The clop of her boots against the worn cobblestones mixed with the sounds of beggars crying out for money, coughing and vomiting coming from deeper in the darkness, and the grunting of prostitutes hard at work in the alleyways. The odors of sickness, alcohol, vomit, and human waste permeated the entire southside. Qulanda was used to that, too.

The last corner Qulanda had to take before she reached the inn that was now home to her was one of the few still sparsely lit. An old street lamp with the glass windows around the wick long since broken stood on the corner. It was a miracle that anyone in the civil guard remembered to light it every night.

A small part of Qulanda saw that lone lamp as a welcoming beacon guiding her home. Another part wondered how she could ever see this ghetto as home. Tonight, however, there was someone standing underneath her beacon.

Qulanda saw the stranger long before the woman saw her. The woman was short with slightly lighter hair than Qulanda's raven hair. She was younger by a good number of years and wore too much makeup. And she was clad only in Calatian lingerie that might at one time been fine. She was a working girl.

Qulanda frowned and moved to walk around the prostitute, skirting the edge of the light. The woman caught sight of her then and came to attention.

"Hey there," she said with a heavy Calatian accent. "Lookin' for a good time, sweetie?"

"No, thanks," Qulanda mumbled and kept walking.

The prostitute grabbed the former guide's arm as she passed. "I'll give ya the best price around." The tip of her pink tongue touched her top lip. "Might even throw in a couple of free extras."

Qulanda smiled grimly to herself and turned to the woman. "I don't think I'm the type of customer for you." She raised her voice and pushed the cowl of her hood back. "I'm a woman."

"Oh...Well, we've got needs, too." The hand on Qulanda's shoulder worked its way slowly higher. "I ain't choosy."

Qulanda's eyes widened in surprise. The prostitute's lack of concern shocked her...and the feelings the woman's touch was stirring in her. It had been a long time since she and Penda had lain together—and there hadn't been anyone else before her. Qulanda missed the closeness of another person when falling asleep at night.

Despite her vow to Penda, Qulanda's body began responding to the prospect of escaping the empty feelings of loneliness, if only for a little while. The prostitute, seeing the response in Qulanda's blue eyes, smiled a full smile and stepped closer. "I have a place not far from here. What do ya say we go for a walk?"

Confusion tore through Qulanda. Her feelings overwhelmed her...and the fact that she could feel such things for anyone but Penda. She wanted to run away as fast as her legs could carry her, but couldn't make herself move. 'Penda, if you find her, would never know,' a voice whispered in her mind. Was it really that bad if she allowed herself to feel something beside sadness and loss?

Drawing a deep, shaky breath, Qulanda pulled away from the prostitute's touch. "I don't think so," she said. "I'm committed."

The woman's smile didn't waver. "I really don't care."

"I do." Turning sharply around, Qulanda rushed forward and let the darkness close around her. She ran and did not stop until she reached the Grinning Goat Inn—and home.

Qulanda rushed into her small room at the Grinning Goat and slammed the door behind her. She paused and leaned against the door for a long moment, enjoying the comfort the darkness offered. The former guide trembled from the aftereffects of her run and from the emotions she was feeling.

Qulanda pushed off the door and walked deeper into the room. She moved easily through the darkness, instinctively sidestepping the cheap, mismatched furnishings, and reached the lamp on the bedside table. She fumbled twice with the striker but finally managed to light the wick.

She raised the flame and left the lamp on the table. The long-term rooms for rent in the Grinning Goat were low on fineries and high on functionality. A narrow loveseat with holes in its cushions and a wooden chair with a leg that was slightly shorter than the other three were the only furnishings in the main room. A small hearth that barely could hold a reasonable size log sat tucked in the corner, almost as if it were an afterthought. The sleeping area had only a short bed that felt lumpy and looked older than the wasteland.

Qulanda removed her cloak and threw it over the back of her crooked chair. She collapsed on the loveseat and let her head rest between two rat-chewed holes. The lamp in the other room cast a long wedge of light that reached just to the old chair. Qulanda watched that shaft of light for a long while before finally closing her eyes.

She wanted to pretend that the incident outside hadn't happened, but could not get the fresh memories out of her mind. Even though she hadn't done anything wrong, Qulanda felt that she had. She had allowed herself to imagine a world where Penda was gone forever.

That was something she could never do again.

Failure, in this, was not something Qulanda would ever stand for. Although none of her leads had expanded to anything promising, it was only a matter of time.

Sleep was just beginning to play with the edge of Qulanda's consciousness when the door was thrown open and the presence of another person flooded her senses.

In a blink, Qulanda was on her feet and fumbling to remove the small crossbow from her belt.

"It is just me," a voice rumbled gently.

"Duena." Qulanda relaxed visibly. "I thought you weren't going to be back until tomorrow."

"Yes," the eight-foot Goron rock giant said. "But I encountered a person you must meet." After Qulanda stopped working as a guide to come to Cape Town, Duena, one of her former charges, had asked to come with her. Despite her large size, and sometimes awkward bearing, Duena had proven to be a loyal friend and good traveling companion. And the five-foot long Goron knife strapped to her bony back didn't hurt to have along during shady negotiations either.

Qulanda wiped sleep from her eyes. "Who is it?" she asked.

"I do not know his name," the Goron replied, "but he asked for you."

"Me? But no one outside of Link knows I'm here."

Duena's exoskeleton rose in a Goron version of a shrug. "Apparently, he does."