Shadows of the Past

Greetings and salutations!

It is I, the Hero of Geeks contacting you via Gossip Stone once again to relate the histories and happenings of Hyrule in a manner that is both accurate and pleasing to be read. Shad, my Cohort in Confundities, and I have delved painstakingly into the accounts of many of those involved and cross-referenced these with the legends as they stand in the Book of Mudora (which you will find excerpted here) and find our report to be as accurate as possible. We have supplemented these accounts with what we feel to be the finest approximation of truth possible so as to deliver to you post-haste this series of enjoyable novels.

Please enjoy them with all animosity...er, anonymity...antipathy? (Blast it, Shad, what is that word? Ah, yes...) amiability.

Yours dearly and truly,

The Hero of Geeks

*note from the author*

This series of novels is my most invested work. Accordingly I would be both honored by and grateful for any feedback given as I get nothing from this endeavour but knowing that other fans like myself will read and enjoy these tellings of the legend. I will be updating periodically with further chapters as I see that they are being read and hope that this will produce a sense of anticipation in those who read for more of the story. I have three finished episodes (representing over 350 printed pages) and a fourth in post-production. I plan on eventually writing a fifth if all goes well. That being said, a few words to begin:

I do not claim the names and situations of these characters as my own. The Legend of Zelda, Link, Zelda, the Triforce, Hyrule, and all other related names are property of Nintendo. In no way do I intend to profit from these properties, nor do I expect any to regard the following as my own invention. While I do claim the characters and situations which are unique to this story, let it be known that as for the rest I am taking artistic liberties with someone else’s ideas; poetic license with someone else’s plot. This story is purely for amusement purposes only.

With the legalities firmly established I do wish to say that I have embellished greatly upon the original story, and not unrealistically so, I hope. It is my hope that this story be seen as a complement to the games, a fleshing out of the background stories, if you will, in an attempt to resolve some of the hidden connections between characters and provide one perspective as to how the games fit with one another. I submit that many fans may disagree with my placement of the games, but for reasons of my own—which are no less thought out than anything else I have done here—I have placed them where I have. Please, enjoy the story as it is. I sincerely hope you do.

Thank you for reading my work,

—Wm Jay Carter III {Hero of Geeks}

For those who wish to understand my thought process as I put this together or for a chronology of events, please see the appendix on my blog: The Legend of Zelda: Shadows of the Past. The contextual game progression is understood to be:

MC, OoT, MM, FS(A), TP, ALttP

Other games could be placed within this context, but I am drawing upon these for the purposes of the current story.

Being the first of the Shadows Cycle composing the work "Shadows of the Past," which chronicles the events surrounding the Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask.

This, the first episode, begins with the account of Mudora, thirty-nine years prior to the birth of the prophesied Hero of Time. Mudora, the Sage of Shadow and Master of the Sheikah people lived to be 73 years old before his contributions to the volume were completed. Under the direction of the Hylian king he gave accounts of the happenings in Hyrule since the beginning of time.

Please note changes in time as indicated at the beginning of relevant sections and chapters.

Prologue
MUDORA: WORDS AND PROPHECIES

The following are excerpts from a legendary enchanted manuscript called the Book of Mudora, a volume written by one of the Sages of Hyrule. Accompanying the writings is a treatise on the Ancient Hylian language, suggesting that the author had intended the knowledge contained herein to be preserved past even the degradation of the society. The following passages which were written using the hieroglyphs of the original Ancient Hylian are impossible to translate using the included language primer, the only exception being the vision of the Golden Land (the translation of which has been maintained in oral tradition.)

Written 1335 HR (Hyrulean Reckoning)
Concerning the Goddesses and the Creation of Hyrule
According to the reckoning of our time, before the Days of the Ancients, before the waters flowed and the mountains shook, from beyond the distant nebulae that reach across the heavens, the three Goddesses of Gold came to form our world, and gave it order, and life.

Din, with her furious might, took up the land that was and made the mountains and valleys, and tilled the earth. Great peaks ridged the surface of the planet, and then she awoke the forces of the world from their slumber and the mountains began to belch fire, and smoke. Din was the source of our world’s power.

Nayru, with her calculating mind, took of the chaos that was and formed patterns and order. The great waters were subdued and flowed according to their given course, and the mysteries of magic and science ceased to flee, and she bound them, that they might be discovered. Nayru was the source of our world’s wisdom.

Faroe, with her verdant embrace, took of the spirits that were and gave them life. Plants and animals of every kind appeared, and they all upheld the order that was established, and went forth to take up the powers that had been awakened. And in those days there was no fear, but all forms of life protected their own kind from that which would threaten to destroy. Faroe was the source of our world’s courage.

Concerning the Races of Hyrule and the Triforce
And when the Goddesses had finished our world, they made the races to live there—the noble Hylians, with their fair skin and pointed ears, wisest of all the races; the honorable Sheikah, with hair as white as snow, loyal and brave; the cunning Gerudo, with their dark complexions and lithe bodies, bold and charismatic. And other races came forth from the elements, to serve the Goddesses that made them. From stone, and water, and forest were made beings that were strong, and fair, and curious.

And then the three Goddesses departed our world, and left behind a symbol of their strength; a golden triangle known as the Triforce. And I, Mudora, have seen in vision that the Sacred Object does exist. And my vision was thus:

[indecipherable hieroglyphs—early Hylian origin]

translation taken from oral tradition
In a realm beyond sight,
The sky shines gold, not blue.
There, the Triforce’s might
Makes mortal dreams come true.

—I am Mudora, Sage of Shadow and keeper of these secrets

Concerning the Search for the Triforce
From its hiding place in the so-called Golden Land where the Goddesses placed it, the Triforce beckoned people from the outside world to seek it, that one worthy of its powers might have the wish of his heart. It was said that any who obtained it would have his heart’s desire. A small but powerful portion of the essence of the Goddesses was held in this mighty artifact, which was to guide the intelligent life on the world of Hyrule. As an extension of the power of the Goddesses, the Triforce became the source of our world’s providence. But what was our gift would also become our curse.

For many long years, none knew how to enter the Golden Land in order to obtain the Triforce. Nevertheless, many aggressively sought the wish-granting Object, and squandered their lives in the search. Though they looked west, below the Burning Desert, and east, within the fiery caverns of Death Mountain, the entrance could not be found. Some claimed it was at the bottom of the Great Hylian Lake in the south, though not even they who dwell at the bottom of those great waters could say for certain.

But just as many had begun to lose interest in the search for the path to the Sacred Object, a foul breath issued forth across the land and the foolish, and the power-hungry, and the coward began to allow the idea of it to infect his mind. These greed-maddened people utterly wasted themselves in the futile search for the entrance to the Sacred Realm, finally turning upon themselves or each other and taking his own lives for despair—for a dream that could never be; for hopes that would never be realized. The thought of the Triforce stole men from their families, mothers from their children, and left those who remained mourning and cursing the Goddesses.

Concerning the War of the Golden Land
For centuries the Triforce lay hidden, deep in a realm a world away from our own. But then one day (in the thirteen hundred and ninth year since the advent of the Goddesses) a gate to the Golden Land appeared near the castle of the Hylian people, within the town they had made there. Soon the races of Hyrule were revisited with grief, as all those who had sought the Triforce in vain now came flocking to the place with renewed lust. Daily the gate consumed any deluded soul who entered it, though none would ever return. Many watched the gate intently for any sign of their departed loved ones, but they waited in vain.

Years passed and still the flocks of deluded souls could not be restrained from their hapless doom. Finally, a militia was formed, and a resistance held. The militia surrounded the gate with pikes and spears, and watches were held day and night. But with frenzied minds the greed-driven Hylians attacked their own people, and a war began which some claim has not ceased to this day. It has been called in times long after the War of the Golden Land. It was a brutal and shameful war, where brother fought against brother, and deceit and betrayal ran through the streets like water.

Many good souls died on account of the War of the Golden Land. Those lost in service of their crown and people were awarded posthumous knighthood by the king of Hyrule, who sorrowed for his people’s anguish. Then the call was made to form a strengthened force to better preserve the people from the enticement of the golden gate; none would be allowed to enter the golden gate by decree of the Hylian king. And from thenceforth the Hylian Kingdom has employed a body of soldiers, and standing beside them in defense of their land were the Knights of Hyrule—valiant souls who guarded against the self-destruction of their people and protected the Royal Family of Hyrule. When those seeking entrance into the Golden Land saw they could not conquer an organized force, they banded together and retreated without the walls of the city to await another chance to satisfy their lust for the powers of the Triforce.

Now, in those days the Sheikah were a race aloof and observant, and they had sent their spies out to bring news of the Golden Land, and whether there had been success by any in obtaining the Triforce. When it was learned that the Triforce was as yet unwon, they sent in their own people in small numbers to scout and see if aught might be learned and if any indeed might return. So skilled were they at stealth that their advance party was able to pass the Knights charged with the gate’s protection and enter unseen…or rather, almost unseen.

One man, cunning and observant himself, saw the Sheikah scouts pass by. The cunning man watched as the scouts infiltrated the Knights’ camp and entered the Golden Realm. He waited to see if they had any success—whether they might emerge with the Power of Gold—but like so many, they were lost. So the cunning man assembled his fellows who were camped without the city and they tracked the scouts’ trail back to the Sheikah village, called Kakariko, at the foot of Death Mountain. When this cunning man appealed to the Master of the Sheikah to teach him how to enter the portal unseen, the master flatly refused. But after reporting that the Sheikah scouts had never returned he offered himself and his fellows as subjects to test the gate, if only it got them into that portal they sought so intently. The Sheikah master saw an opportunity in the prospect and agreed. And the cunning man and his brethren were taught how they might achieve their ends.

Unfortunately, the cunning man was never rewarded according to his desire, for he and the others that attempted to infiltrate the Knights’ camp were caught and imprisoned. Discovering their connection with the Sheikah, the king of Hyrule sent to the master of the Sheikah and charged him with infiltrating the kingdom of Hyrule and deceiving its people with false hope. Incensed, the master sent back that the Hylians were acting like foolish ants: sitting in a languid stupor on their hill while the treasure within their grasp went unclaimed, and still they prevented others from obtaining, perchance, what the Hylians saw no use for. But checking his anger, the master proposed a conjoined effort to discover the secrets of the portal and obtain, if the Goddesses would permit, the Power of Gold, and share between the two races the benefits of that boon. But the king of Hyrule would not, and returned that there should be no such arrangement, but that if any of the Sheikah were found within the borders of the kingdom they should be slain. For a time, enmity and silence prevailed between the races.

Then, having learned from both insult and injury, the Hylian king ordered that a more defensible solution be sought. The king’s chief advisor, the wizened Potho (who was also the head of the kingdom’s monastic order) suggested that a temple should be built to contain the portal. It could then put under the care of the monks, who would live in the temple, and thus the portal would be monitored day and night. The Hylian king agreed, and the temple was begun. Thus, the Knights of Hyrule were able to focus their attention on the limited entrances to the temple rather than a wide perimeter.

And the monks of the Temple saw it as their duty to pray to the Goddesses for a solution to the increasing unrest without the Hylian city gates. An answer, it seemed, came when those dissenters without the gates took up their camps and marched west, away from the city. It appeared there might be peace at last.

Concerning the Gerudo and their King
But the wise who see peace in their days know that it will not prevail indefinitely. This proved true for the Hylian king, as I will show you. But I would call your minds now to the third race of Hyrule, the Gerudo, who lived far from the Hylian kingdom, whose shrines lay deep within the Burning Desert. It was there that the dissenting Hylian force marched, and they told the Gerudo that a portal was opened; it was being held by the Hylians, and that they were preventing any from entering in. The lord of the Gerudo, an ambitious young man named Ganondorf Dragmire, saw the actions of the Hylian king as a challenge to any who would doubt the dominance of the Hylians as the supreme race. And it was certain that Ganondorf doubted.

Now aught must be said regarding the Gerudo. One year in every hundred there is a male child born within their tribe, and he is destined to be their king and lord. Each male will live long enough to see another born, and he will retain his vitality into his old age. He is a precious rarity among the race, and all of the females of the tribe are willing to protect him with their lives, for should he die, the Gerudo race would die with him and there would be nothing left of their way of life. The lord himself is taught from his infancy to be aggressive, ruthless, and merciless—for the Gerudo believe that anything short of this would put the king, and therefore their tribe, in jeopardy.

Above all the preservation of the Gerudo lord’s life is of supreme concern for any Gerudo female. It is for this reason that the females are trained as expert combatants; to better protect their king. A small band of bodyguards therefore protect the Great Ganondorf, as he is wont to be called, and these boast accomplishments in thievery, are skilled in secrecy and stealth, and the use of magic.

So it will be clear that when the Great Ganondorf saw the Hylians in their weakened state, he saw his chance to take the Triforce for himself, though he would make it seem to his tribe that he was acting out of intentions to improve their barren condition. For was it not in the power of the Triforce to grant the wish of one’s heart? Accordingly, Ganondorf went himself, with his bodyguards, to treat with the king of the Hylians that he might obtain his desire.

But having been wizened by experience, the Hylian king denied the Gerudo lord his wish. He would not permit him to enter the portal, for it had only lead to sorrow; and what, the king asked, would become of the Gerudo tribe if its lord never returned? But Ganondorf would not be swayed, and he berated the king and accused him of power-mongering, saying that the Hylians were selfish and spoiled children. Despite the Gerudo lord’s censure, yet the noble king would not relent, and still he refused to permit him entrance.

And then Ganondorf Dragmire revealed his treachery, and told the Hylian king of his plans to invade were they not to permit him entrance—that the king’s own men, those Hylian dissenters, were without the walls and supported by a force of trained Gerudo warriors. But the wise Hylian king still refused, and dismissed the Gerudo lord from his presence.

As the Gerudo made preparations for war, constructing what siege engines they might, the Knights of Hyrule likewise prepared fortifications for battle. But the Knights saw that even with the soldiers to aid them their numbers would not be enough, nor would their hearts permit them to fall upon their brethren to kill them, and the sorrow of the looming turmoil rested upon them. If they fell, it would not be without mercy to their own.

But the master of the Sheikah, being observant the Gerudo forces, and also weighed down with sorrow for his hastiness in accusing the Hylian king, sought forgiveness of him, saying that his words were rash, and that now in the hour of the Hylian’s greatest need, the Sheikah would aid them. And would not the Goddesses preserve them? And the Hylian king was gracious, and forgave all, and even showed his further magnificence by pleading forgiveness of the master, saying he had acted out of anger, and had been foolish. Thus was born the alliance of the Hylians and the Sheikah, who are now as one race. And I did prophesy concerning the Hylians and the Sheikah:

[indecipherable hieroglyphs—early Hylian origin]

—I am Mudora, Sage of Shadow and keeper of these secrets

And then began the Battle of the Betrayers, with the races of Hyrule locked in combat and seeking each other’s destruction. Gerudo warriors fought alongside Hylian dissenters against the Knights of Hyrule and their sworn allies, the Sheikah. Many knights and good men fell by the hands of those who were their brothers, but who had been overcome by greed and hatred. And as the battle waxed, Ganondorf, the very Gerudo lord, went himself with his guards to infiltrate the castle by way of secrecy. And when they had come to the Inner Chamber of the Castle, and were about to take the Hylian king, the Sheikah master and all of his fellows set upon Ganondorf’s guards, and caught the lord, to threaten him with his life.

When the Gerudo lord saw his life in danger, and nigh forfeit, yet he did not cease to boast. But the Hylian king silenced him and swore his tongue would be forfeit, if not his life, except he should hear the terms that the king was to offer. And these were the terms: that Ganondorf would leave the Hylian kingdom with his forces and never return unless it was to swear his allegiance to the Hylian royal crown, and that the dissenters should be delivered into Hylian custody for punishment. Indignant, Ganondorf saw no option but to agree. He and his forces left, never to return, or so it seemed.

Thereafter the call went out that each race should be represented by its wisest and most trustworthy member, and that these should be called Sages; those who would counsel one with another concerning the affairs of Hyrule, and the spiritual representative of their race to the Goddesses. And Ganondorf Dragmire, King of the Gerudo, appointed Itzah, his favored hand-maiden, to be the Gerudo Sage. And so as a special exception to the treaty arranged between the Hylia and the Gerudo, Itzah was given quarters in the castle until the first council could be held. Then the king of Hyrule appointed his chief advisor, even the wise young Rauru of the Temple (previously the apprentice of Potho of the Temple, Faroe keep him) to represent the Hylians. And the Sheikah chose their Master (I who write to you, even Mudora) to be their representative.

And thus the Sages had been chosen, and the council was to be held in the Great Hall of Hyrule Castle. But then three other representatives appeared at the gates of the Hylian kingdom requesting an audience with the council. They appeared with no notice of their coming, and said they had been sent by the Goddesses in response to the summons for representatives from every race. For verily there had been other races made by the Goddesses, and now they were sending their most wise to join the other Sages. And these are the names of the Sages who were sent by the Goddesses:

Gor Darmon, of the Gorons, a people of flesh, but protected by stony backs and resistant to fire—they dwell high above Kakariko, near the volcanic crater of Death Mountain; Lutai, of the Zora, an aquatic people, with fins on their heads and arms and flippered feet—they dwell in the caverns from whence flows the Great Waterfall which feeds all the rivers of Hyrule and ends in the Great Hylian Lake; and Aako, of the Koroki, a people ever young, always clothed in green—they are the children of the Great Dekku Tree which sustains life within the Forgotten Wood.

Thus was born the Council of Sages; three chosen by the Hylians, Sheikah and Gerudo, and three appointed by the Goddesses. And the first council of the Sages was held within the Inner Sanctum of the Temple of Time, and the matter of importance was the sentencing of the criminals which had come upon their own people to war; for it was not just that the people should be judged by those who they had wronged, lest the judgement should be biased. So it was that the Council of Sages arbitrated the sentencing of the Hylian dissenters and their leaders.

Now the leaders of the dissenters were sentenced to life imprisonment, and to this day they many of them do waste away in solitude for their crime. And the other dissenters were punished in that they should be used for labor in the building of a tomb behind the graveyard in Kakariko for those valiant souls who had fallen by their hands. They were to live there, under the watchful eye of the Sheikah, until they joined their fallen brothers in death, and thus expiate their shame. Only their children, when they were old enough to bring honor to their family’s name, would be permitted to leave.

And the Sheikah provided assistance in rebuilding the town and finishing the building of the temple. And when it was finished, the temple was dedicated to Orda, the Goddess of Time. And for ever after the Sheikah served the Hylian royal family, and the women of the Sheikah were the nursemaids to the Hylian’s royal children, and the Sheikah men trained the Knights of Hyrule in stealth and combat. And thus the prophecy is fulfilled.

Written 1350 HR
Concerning the Sages of Hyrule and the Blade of Evil’s Bane
In this year the queen of Hyrule, Zanna by name, began to have prophetic dreams concerning a King of Evil who should obtain the Power of Gold and rule the land with tyranny. Now it was not uncommon in the Days of the Ancients, when a great evil beset the land, that the women of the Hylian royal family were visited with a dream or vision of the Goddesses which were soon proved true. And as the matter affected all of Hyrule, the queen took it upon herself to call together the Sages of Hyrule that the matter might be well considered.

And so when the Sages convened their council, the matter of importance was the portal to the Golden Land, which portal was contained in the Sanctuary of the Temple of Time; and it was asked whether it should be accessible to the races, or restricted that none should use it. The discussion was heated, with Itzah contending for free use of the portal by all, while Rauru contended that some means must be established whereby no ill-meaning person should obtain the Power of Gold. But after each of the Sages had spoken their part, they were not able to reach an agreement that would satisfy all. It was therefore the decision of the council that its members should pray for guidance and follow the will of the Goddesses, however it might be manifest.

And so it was that when the Hylian queen prayed she heard the voices of the Goddesses saying that she should tell the Council of the dream she had received. And so she came to the Sages again and told them of a King of Evil in the shape of a wild boar that entered the Golden Land and seized the Power of Gold, and when he emerged with his armies there were none to stop him. But then the Goddesses of Time came down and undid these events, and the Goddess of Courage sealed the King of Evil away with a key in the form of a sword. And the Goddesses gave the sword to a child, who was to be a Great Hero who would travel through time to save the land from darkness. And the sword rested in a Temple of Light.

And when the queen had told of her dream it was received by the Sages as an answer from the Goddesses. But when they speculated as to the interpretation thereof, none of the Sages could agree what it was. Some said the Evil would be an old Power reborn. Others said one of the ancient magical swords should be recovered. But the queen knew the true meaning, and she told them that a new sword must be forged and imbued with the power to repel evil, even an evil with that power which was granted by the Triforce; and it would be a key, and if placed in the Temple of Time it would close the portal and prevent any from entering therein. And if any evil were, perchance, to claim the Triforce there would be a hero provided by the Goddesses, even a child, to confront that evil with the Blade of Evil’s Bane.

And so it was given to Gor Darmon, the Sage of the Gorons, to temper the blade in volcanic fire that it might be strong, and it would be cooled by Lutai in Zora waters that it might be keen. And when the blade was finished, Aako prayed over it and enchanted it with his magic that none but one with a pure heart and unsurpassed courage could wield it. And the Goddesses blessed it, that it might repel even those powers granted by the Triforce. Then a pedestal was built within the Temple of Time wherein the Master Sword might rest, for thus was the blade called after it had been enchanted. And the people called it the Blade of Evil’s Bane. And when the blade was placed within the pedestal, the gate to the Golden Land was shut, and never opened again. And I prophesy concerning the Sages and the Hero:

[indecipherable hieroglyphs—early Hylian origin]

—I am Mudora, Sage of Shadow and keeper of these secrets

And after I made this prophecy we Sages knew that we must take for ourselves places of sanctuary, and build up temples to the Goddesses in hidden places. And we made us magic songs which we could use to take us to the Inner Sanctum of the temple in times of need and for council. And so the council was adjourned, and its members dismissed.

Written 1374 HR
Concerning the Author’s Fate
One final message I have for you to whom I write. If you have possession of this volume, it means I am dead. It was necessary for these secrets to be kept as long as they might be, but all things must one day come to light. And I have yet somewhat to say concerning what I know shall come to pass.

I have seen Itzah’s disquiet at what we Sages have done, and rightly so, for it means a more difficult task for her master. Yet she has played the part—and though her prayers have not been sincere, though she was reluctant to add her magic to ours as we enchanted the Blade of Evil’s Bane, though she would have fled to tell her master of our affairs, still she has acted the Sage. And in so doing, she has accomplished what was crucial for the bringing of these events to pass.

And so I must bid you farewell. For I foresee that she will have need of these, my writings, which contain the plans of the Temple of Time and its passages in order to infiltrate the temple without being detected. And if so, then I know that she will kill me to obtain them, for her loyalty was never to the council, but to her master. It was ever thus in her eyes, if not in her voice or manner.

And so I write first to my servant Abrum. I speak by way of chastisement, but also by way of love, even that which a father would have for his son. I know that the servants of Lord Ganondorf have seduced you with power and feigned love. If I am dead, then you will have betrayed me and joined their cause. I do not censure you for your zeal, only your lack of judgment. I have seen that you were ever so, and to you I say that you are never unwelcome among the Sheikah, your people. You shall retain forever your own choice; make of it what you will, and not what others will.

And my greetings to you, Lord Ganondorf—I do not call you Great. You will not need to look far for what you seek. Though this volume has been enchanted to hide the deeper secrets of the Hylian Royal Family, you will not need them. Though it contains within its hidden pages the histories of our races, you know enough of this. And though its enchanted record lays plain the mysteries of magic we Sheikah have uncovered, you will have my servant to instruct you in the ways of our magic. He knows enough to serve you, but he does not know all the magical secrets of our tribe. I know that you will use my servant to your ends, manipulating his sympathies to draw the Master Sword from its pedestal because your evil heart will not permit you to touch even the hilt. But you shall find that your manipulations are for naught. Despite your preparations your progress shall be halted before you reach the Sanctuary of the Blade of Evil’s Bane. For now that I am dead and you are in possession of this volume the Great Hylian King has already arranged to thwart your plans. You shall not prevail in this thing. Nevertheless, you shall find within the mundane record precisely what you need for the unfolding of your treachery. And I will not hinder you.

I do not write to you, Itzah, for your shadow looms ever nearer even as I write this. May Nayru the Wise judge you according to your deeds.

But to those who shall read these words long after their ink has faded, and who learn these tales long after this paper has crumbled, know that I welcome death. I am unafraid of what lies beyond this mortality. But not to have served those I am indebted to—of that I am very much afraid. Know that my only regret is that I could not fulfill my purpose and be of more aid to my people. I would that I may yet serve those who come after me even in death. I commend myself to the Goddesses greatly troubled as that end quickly approaches.

And finally to you my fellow Sages I write by way of commendation. I commend to you the name of she whom I will to be my successor. The following is hidden by the manner which I have taught Rauru, Sage of Light, and shall be uncovered by him in due course when my successor should be chosen:

[indecipherable hieroglyphs—early Hylian origin]

—I am Mudora, Sage of Shadow and keeper of these secrets

Seriously, was that many posting that necceassary? Anyway, it seems like a narrative of the fierce war. Its well written. Not how I expected. No dark interlopers?

"Dark interlopers" to come in the second episode. Also, sorry for the multi-post; I'm new to the forum scene. I cut my public-domain teeth on physical printing.

Thanks for the reply! Keep reading!

WJC3--HoG

Chapter I
COUNCIL OF THE SAGES, 1374 HR

The infant seemed to sleep soundly, folded tightly in the bundle of clothes nestled in its mother’s arms. The rhythmic undulation of her torso counterpoint to the gallop of the horse did no more to wake the child than the commotion from which they had just escaped. The cold night air soothed her troubled face, her neck still warmed by the fires that billowed behind them. At her side, a pool of sticky red soaked her white nightgown, plastering the cloth to her thigh.

The woman swooned for only a moment, then recovered. Her taut form, lit by the churning blaze, leaned forward as her mount guided them further from danger, further from the whip of bowstrings, the musk of battle. Bars of shadow flickered over them as they passed behind trees, hastily forging into their only avenue of escape, their only hope of refuge. Into the forest they fled, and the child slept on. Only when the woman could no longer hear the roar of the flames did she halt the horse in its wild path. She turned her green eyes skyward, as if to ask the moon for guidance, but found nothing. Then, as she looked down, she saw a sight only heard of—there, next to the root of a large tree, stood a small green-clad child. The woman swooned.

* * *

Miles away, above a vast desert, the soldier seemed to sleep soundly, his body limp against his pole. A dry breeze drew up clouds of dust over the barren waste which stretched out in every direction from his post. His perch was a tower of wood scaffolding, lashed together with knots, simple but strong. So great had been his fatigue in the heat of the desert sun that night had fallen heavily on his eyes. It was his fatigue that betrayed him that night.

From somewhere out of the darkness an arrow tipped with fire streaked through the air and struck his chest, just below the heart. His eyes shot open, flickering like wet stones in the light of the flame as he fell against the railing, the fire catching on the wooden crossbars, then the rope knots. In moments, the tower became a glowing beacon in the night, and from somewhere beneath the glare of the blood-moon, the hidden archer advanced, unseen on the waste.

* * *

High in an upper bedchamber of the castle, the young queen seemed to sleep soundly under a thick quilt, her golden head resting serenely on a down pillow. The angle of her neck suggested dignity, and the shape of her brow displayed wisdom. Her pointed ears indicated that she was of the Hylian race—those favored of the Gods. Vigilant guards stood by, white men wrapped in white cloth wearing solemn faces; they were Sheiks—guardians of the royal family of Hyrule. Not asleep, but meditative, their stillness shamed the silence in the room. One might perhaps have heard the curtains whisper.

In moments, however, the queen’s wise brows tightened, her muscles tensing, her thin body curling. She moaned as one wounded, then suddenly screamed, violating the sacred silence. In response her dutiful guards suddenly animated, acting as if in well-rehearsed concert—one was immediately at her side, another lit the black wicks of a candelabrum on the bed-table, and a third arrived with a cool wet cloth. As they comforted her the young woman pushed herself upright in her bed panting and heaving. After a moment, she leaned back against the headboard and pressed the wet cloth to her forehead, staring into the candlelight. When she spoke it was thin, but certain: “Din is angry.”

* * *

The bleeding woman swooned again, her grip on the bundle of clothes in her arms loosening. The touch of a small hand on her foot restored her to attention. She drew her sleeping son closer, blinking dully, her head nodding.

The green-clad child laughed. “Mother, you must stay awake. Our father bids you come.” Something about the child’s laugh—the woman thought she had heard it before. It was merry, sweet and innocent, as if the child thought the woman were pretending to sleep. She knew the laugh from a dream, perhaps—if she was not in a dream now. The child, a little girl, walked further into the forest, the horse following. From somewhere among the weak moonlit shadows, eerie notes floated, guiding her, it seemed—keeping her awake, yet calm. The song was like the child’s laugh—innocent, and full of happiness.

It must have been her fatigue, she decided—loss of blood. The stories in her head were coming to life as she was nearing death. There certainly could not have been a lone child guiding her through the forest. As they wandered through the bracken, the woman thought she noticed the same gnarled stump at least twice. She was dreaming, she thought. It must be. After some time, she could not say how long, the music had stopped, and so had they. The green-clad child was some distance ahead, standing in the opening of a large stone grotto. The little girl smiled sweetly and laughed again. “Do not be afraid, Mother, it is safe here. Our father wishes to see you. Come.”

Within her arms, the woman’s son finally began to stir, but quickly fell still again.

The horse again walked after the child, between the stones, down a slope of earth thickly carpeted with grass. Passing through a short tunnel, they emerged at the edge of a large clearing; a bowl of earth covered in the same thick carpet of grass at the opening. The place was bordered by a tall wall of natural rock upon which grew a tightly set fence of trees of every variety. From the trees hung a thick net of vines with large leaves which reached down even to the forest floor. The whole floor was dappled with stirring shadows as the morning light filtered through the boughs of an enormous tree growing in the center of the clearing which must have been at least half a mile high at its peak. The trunk itself filled almost a third of the clearing. And the most curious was a sight to outweigh it all, finally convincing the woman of either her dream-state or insanity—stretched across the near half of the tree was the rough face of a gnarled old man.

“Father,” the girl-child said, addressing the enormous tree-face, “I have brought you the child and its mother.”

* * *

One of the white guards caught the young woman’s glance with his vibrant red eyes. A voice spoke inside her head. My queen, said the Sheik, what have you seen?

The young queen stared into the flickering light of the candelabrum. She lowered the cloth from her head, threw back her bedcovers, and crossed the room to her wardrobe. “Take me to my husband,” she said, “and summon the Sages…what is left of them.”

* * *

The morning sun streamed through the arched windows of the library casting dusty shafts of light on a long table layered with paper—large sheets of unrolled parchment scrawled with names of neighboring areas, marked with colors representing political borders; scrolls bearing hastily written notes or information regarding the positions of soldiers. Just outside the pool of light the young king’s head lay upon the table, a quill still resting in the loose grip of his work-hardened hands, the crimson ink long since dried. Embers glowed in the fireplace on one end of the hall, while presently a knock came from the door on the other. The king raised his head in time for the Captain of the Royal Guard to open the door. The captain stepped inside.

“My Liege,” he said, bowing with one hand to his breast.

The king cleared his throat. “Report.”

“Sire, the Arbiter’s Grounds was attacked last night during the second watch. The outermost tower was burned to the ground. Our scouts have still found no sign of the attackers.”

As the captain spoke, the king’s eyes focused on a map directly in front of him marked with numerous red dots, all surrounding the maze of lines that represented the Arbiter’s Grounds. His eyes flickered over a spot representing the Arbiter’s central chamber. Without looking up, the king spoke. “And the prisoner?”

“Still in custody, Sire.”

The king released a long breath and rested against the back of his chair. He wiped the sleep from one eye with a thumb. “Has there been any news regarding the skirmishes on the Town?”

“No word yet, Sire. The attackers continue to remain unknown. They are gone before any reinforcements can arrive, and they have still eluded our trackers. The townspeople are being evacuated to Kakariko village as you directed.”

“Good.” After a short pause the king added, “Who was the guard on that tower, Captain?”

“Hansen, son of Rannon, Sire.”

The king’s eyes widened, “And he was caught in the fire?”

“Yes, Sire,” the captain looked at his boots.

The king lowered his voice. “Din keep him, poor soul.” After a moment’s consideration, the king dipped his quill in a bottle of crimson ink and let a drop fall on a small square representing the outmost tower. The king rested the quill in the bottle and then turned in his seat to face the captain directly. The captain raised his head, inhaling shortly. “I expect to hear from you as soon as two towers have been constructed to replace our lost one, Captain. Be certain that each has two men; one above, one below.”

“They have already begun, Sire. It shall be as you say.” The captain bowed again, one hand to his breast.

“Very well.” The captain turned to leave. “Colin?” said the king. The captain paused. “I’m so sorry. Please tell your uncle Rannon that he has my condolences.”

It was a moment before the captain responded. “Thank you, Daphnes,” he said. “You have always been good to us. You are like a brother to me…”

The king looked at Colin kindly, but the captain did not meet his eyes. “Colin please, sit,” he said.

The captain did not sit, but cleared his throat. Without turning he said, “I will be sending my wife ahead to Kakariko, Daphnes. I promise you I will not fail you or Zethra.”

The king rose from his seat and approached the captain. “I know Colin.” The king placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I trust you with the lives of all my loved ones, most of all my wife. Colin, I would ask you…” the king’s voice faltered.

The captain looked up, searching his friend’s face. “What is it Daphnes? Is Zethra well?”

The king’s eyes glittered with wetness and he offered a half-hearted smile. “She has been dreaming things of late, Colin, terrible nightmares, and…and I do not know whether they will cease. It may be the Goddesses’ doing…or it may be something sinister. The prophecies of the Queen of Hyrule always prove true. What if…I fear that she will come to harm or that…” His eyes dashed around as if he were watching scenes play out in his mind. The king looked the captain in the eye as he pressed his palm across his mouth and brought it down over his young beard. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

The captain clasped the king’s hands in both of his. “Daphnes, I swear to you no harm will come to Zethra so long as I breathe.”

The king nodded. “Thank you, Colin. May the Goddesses protect Karin as well.” The king’s eyes smiled through the wetness. “Assign a unit of your best men to escort her to Kakariko, will you?”

“I will,” the captain nodded, grinning. “Thank you, brother.” And he closed the door gently behind him as he left.

* * *

Barely audible at first, then increasing in volume and intensity, a deep throated hum filled the clearing. The sound rattled the fittings on the horse’s bridle, but it did not whinny or turn. It was as if the horse regarded the sound as the most natural and expected thing to happen at that moment. The woman suddenly realized the sound was coming from below the clearing, deep within the earth. All at once the eyes of the tree-face opened, and it spoke. Its voice was breathy and hollow, but deep as the earth, and the wind which came from its mouth smelled of rich brown soil, and suddenly the woman felt strength flow into her.

“Mother, I greet thee with sorrow for thine afflictions. I have naught to give thee that thou mayst be whole, nor do my children know the arts of healing, as they can never come to harm within this forest, but while here my magic can prolong your life, even if it be so short, and thou shalt not feel thy pain. Yet, know that I have aught to speak to thee, and then thy body must lie down to the earth.”

The woman knew of the Sheikah tribes which practiced magic and the shadow arts, and she reasoned that if she had truly seen all she had, and she was not dreaming, she could not deny that it was as the great tree had said. Surely she felt no pain, and so did not question that she would live long enough to speak for herself. Nevertheless she could feel her body passing, and so it did not matter now what she thought was possible. “Then I thank you, Master,” she said, respectfully. “With whom do I speak, that I may know my benefactor?”

The earth hummed again, as before, but only briefly, and then the tree responded. “I am the Father Dekku, and the Koroki are my children.” The girl child turned to the woman, smiling, reminding her again of some dream she must have had, somehow more near now. The great tree continued, “But know, Mother, that thy time is short, and soon thou shalt know me well. I must speak to thee of thy son, that which thou bearest next to thy breast. Knowest thou of his fate?”

“He is my son, sir, and I pray than Din be in him, for might; and Faroe, for valiance; and Nayru, for justice.” The woman looked at her sleeping child, her cheeks wetting with love, knowing she would not see him grown. “But I do not know of his fate.”

“A blessing well spoken, Mother,” said the tree.

She touched her son’s face, and held him close to her. “Please, sir, I see that thou must be an oracle. What may I know of him from thee? Is he to be great among his fellows?”

“He is, Mother. His name shall be had in the legends of thy people for countless generations. And I ask that my children may keep him until Faroe be in him, for valiance, and he is prepared for his destiny.”

The young mother cradled her son in her arms, and he stirred, but did not wake. “Why does he yet sleep, sir? And do we dream these things?”

“From the moment thy child was within my wood, I kept him, and he slept. For he shall see evils which are not yet created, and do them battle, and why should he be plagued with more? And though thou dreamest not, yet others have dreamed, and shall tell of thee.”

And as the woman gazed at her son, her sleeping joy, she began to feel very thin, and knew that her time was spent. “Yes, Master Dekku, Father of the Koroki, it is as you have said. I go. And take my child. Will you raise him in the ways of the Goddesses?”

“Yes, Mother. All shall be as would please Them. Come, now, and sleep next to me. It is time for the earth to catch you.”

The young mother lowered her son into the arms of the attending girl child, who cradled him, smiling at him sweetly. “Goodbye, my son,” said the young mother, “Nayru keep you until I see you again. Goodbye.” And the horse carried her to one side of the great tree, where she alighted, and laid her down, and died.

* * *

The Inner Sanctum of the temple was a large circular room, made of white marble and capped by a high dome. The terrace which circumvented the room on the second level was flanked on all sides by stained glass windows and supported from below by an arcade made of columns bearing peaked arches. In the center of the room was a circular stone dais upon which rested nine high-backed chairs, facing inward, all wooden with lush upholstery. On this occasion, the chairs were occupied by the king and queen; the Captain of the Royal Guard to the king’s right; and to the queen’s left sat the Sages of Hyrule. The chair immediately to the captain’s right sat empty. Its emptiness did not go unnoticed, however, and the air was stifled by a sense of loss.

Presently, the queen stood. A jeweled circlet graced her golden head. From under her long purple vest flowed a white gown. From her golden belt hung the apron of her station, bearing the crest of the royal family—a bird with wings outstretched, bearing above it, in place of its head, a triangle made of three smaller triangles each embroidered of gold thread.

She spoke: “Since the days of the Hero King, the daughters of the royal family of Hyrule have always been gifted with the Light of the Goddesses,” she began. “It is had in the legends of our people that they are given dreams, which shortly are proven true. This you know.” The sages and captain waited quietly. The queen stood erect, her gloved hands folded before her. “I have had such a dream.” The next moment the air changed, suddenly charged with tension; none in audience moved.

“My dream was thus,” the queen continued, quietly but clearly. “I was in a field, near a wood, where blue soldiers fought red demons. The soldiers fought bravely, but the demons spat fire, and the field became an inferno.” As she spoke her eyes followed invisible warriors as they raced after their enemies—she squinted faintly as they were halted by sudden gouts of imaginary flame. “And out from among the blue fled a mother, with her green child. Faroe took them, and within her arms she hid them, though the mother perished in her embrace.

“Then I was on a high tower, in a waste of darkness, watching Din’s shrine. For she was imprisoned within her own shrine, and became angry, and summoned her children to free her from captivity. Then the moon turned to blood, and her fury shot out of the dark waste and I was consumed.” The queen’s voice caught in her throat and she looked at her folded hands. Her husband reached forward and grasped one of her hands as a tear slid out of each of her eyes. “I could do nothing,” she finally said. “It was done,” and she eased herself into her wooden seat.

The first sage to the queen’s left watched the queen as she sat. He was a balding man with pointed ears and thick hair on his cheeks, peppered with age. He wore an orange hooded robe with a red mantle and apron. On his lap lay a green book. His expression was of concern, primarily for the queen who seemed preoccupied with thoughts far from their current surroundings. “This has been the first dream given to a Hylian queen since your grandmother,” he said. “I was young then, but I remember what it meant for our people.”

“I know, Rauru,” the queen responded. “It does not bode well for us.”

“Hero,” said the small boy seated to the right of Rauru. He had a pleasant grin and intelligent eyes that were such a deep green as to be almost black. He wore green clothes that appeared as if they had been made of very large leaves. His feet dangled over the edge of his wooden chair and did not touch the floor. His childish playfulness made it seem as if he, among all the Sages, might not know that one of their number had been murdered and another was still missing. Or perhaps he knew but did not see why it should be a matter of concern.

“I think Aako is right,” said the next Sage, Gor Darmon of the Goron tribe. Like all Gorons, his brown body was bulky and dense, and upon his back had grown large deposits of minerals from the diet of rocks that served their people as a food source. “The child in Zethra’s dream may be the hero that was spoken of in Mudora’s prophecy.”

“Nayru keep him,” said Lutai, the Zora sage. She turned her finned head to look at the empty seat to her left. Like all Zoras her skin was a tint of slightly translucent blue and attached to her arms and legs were fins like those of a fish.

The captain spoke. “May it please your Majesties, esteemed ones…”

“Speak,” said the king, not unkindly.

“We have questioned the prisoner, Mudora’s murderer,” the captain continued, “and we believe her to be…to be…” The captain shifted in his seat; that which would otherwise have been occupied by the Sage of the Gerudo people, who had not been accounted for.

“Itzah,” Zethra finished, comprehending.

“She was in disguise,” said Gor Darmon staring through the center of the dais. “Must have been. I did not recognize her when I came in and found…” he, too, looked over at the empty seat.

“But why would she have done this?” asked Lutai, “Did she not agree to the counsels we held? Were not her loyalties…”

“Pig,” said Aako.

“Yes, I believe you are right, Aako,” said Rauru. “She had never ceased being her master’s servant. It is as Mudora said in his final words—blessed are the Goddesses that we have them.” He lifted the green book from his lap to look at the spine. There in the very center of the spine was a glyph. Translated from the Hylian it read Mudora, Sage of Shadow, secret keeper.

“Forgive me, master,” the captain said, “but what is the significance of the book?”

Rauru’s attention was pulled from the glyph. He looked at the captain and knotted his bushy eyebrows together. “The book was stolen from Mudora the same night that he was murdered, not three days hence. Mudora himself predicted this in his writings and accordingly he wrote a message to Lord Ganondorf knowing he would read it. He also must have suspected we would come into possession of it, as he left the Sages a message as well. I found Mudora’s book last night in the nave of the temple between the altar and the Door of Time. His Majesty commanded the Door closed and locked as soon as we heard that Mudora had…” Rauru saw Lutai bow her finned head and he faltered. “…as soon as we heard what had happened,” he continued, “and knew that his secrets were jeopardized. Since then I have not let the book leave my possession—it is the only evidence we have as to who had entered the temple.” The captain seemed to assimilate this information.

“Has the lock held thus far?” the king asked.

“Yes,” replied Rauru. Then he spoke to his fellow Sages. “We have sealed the Door with three stones which can only be activated if they are brought together on the altar of the temple. The enchantment has been bound to this,” Rauru now pulled out a small flute-like instrument from somewhere beneath his robes. It was a hollow lump of blue clay the size of a large potato. On its protruding neck it bore three triangles arranged to form a larger triangle. “Masters Sharp and Flat have already enchanted the Ocarina, and I have asked Orda to bless it, and we have faith that she will preserve the enchantments through the dusts of time. The final element necessary to open the Door is the melody of the Hylian Royal Family which must be played on this ocarina while standing before the altar.”

“Show them the Stones, Rauru,” said the queen.

Rauru produced three medium-sized gems; a ruby, a sapphire, and an emerald. Each was set in gold edging and all glittered brightly in the light filtering through the stained-glass above them. “I thought it best to entrust them to the peoples away from this land, the Gorons, Zora, and Koroki.”

The king spoke. “I agree. It is proposed that the stones which lock the Door of Time be placed in the care of the peoples of Hyrule; the Gorons, Zora, and Koroki by name. Your favors?”

“Aye,” said the queen.

“Aye,” said Rauru.

Aako nodded vigorously.

“Aye,” Gor Darmon growled.

“Aye,” said Lutai.

“Master Captain,” said the king, “would you cast a favor in absence of our beloved Mudora?”

The captain looked sincerely flattered. “It is an honor, Majesty, Nayru keep him,” he said, bowing with one hand to his chest. Then, after pausing to give the question consideration he said, “The entrance to the portal should remain secure. It is a good thing. Aye, then.”

“Then we have six to affirm; it is agreed,” said the king. And Rauru stood and entrusted the emerald to Aako, the ruby to Gor Darmon, and the sapphire to Lutai. As Rauru sat, the king spoke again. “It is crucial that these stones be handled with the utmost of secrecy and protection. Speak of them to no one. If they are discovered, it may mean the invasion of the Golden Realm by that Great Evil spoken of in the prophecies.” Each of the Sages nodded their assent. Aako looked through the green gem he had been given as if it were a monocle.

“And what of the Ocarina?” said the captain, addressing Rauru. “Will you keep it, Master Sage? You are the oldest and wisest of the Sages.”

“Old I am. But I am not the oldest, Master Captain. And may my wisdom be proven. The Ocarina is the most essential part of the enchantment holding the Door of Time in place. My monks and I continue to maintain a constant vigilance in the temple. I would not keep a key in the same building as the lock if I did not wish it to be opened,” said Rauru looking at the captain directly. The captain looked down at the arm of the chair in which he sat. He seemed to become vaguely interested in the grain of the wood. “I had hoped,” Rauru continued, offering the Ocarina to the queen, “that her Majesty would oblige me…”

She looked at the instrument in Rauru’s hands, pondering it. “I know it is only more to be concerned for,” he said, “but I can think of none more wise, with greater good in her heart; with greater resistance to evil.” For a moment Rauru thought he saw a look of weariness pass over her young face, but as soon as he saw it, it was gone.

“It is now my turn to be honored,” Zethra said demurely. “I would not deny this great gift,” and she extended a hand to take the Ocarina.

Rauru reached out and placed his other hand on the queen’s before she took the instrument. Their eyes met. Rauru spoke quietly so only she could hear. “If ever you feel more burdened than you can bear, my dear child…”

“I know I can rely on you, uncle,” she replied, a weak smile crossing her lips. Rauru removed his hand and Zethra took the instrument, holding it against her breast.

“Oh, and that reminds me, Your Majesty,” said Rauru, addressing the king, “Master Flat bid me return this to you.” Rauru drew an ivory conductor’s baton from within his sleeve. It was carved with complex curled forms. “It has been enchanted as you directed. He wishes to consult with you another time regarding its possible use with a pipe organ.”

The king regarded the baton with wonder. “Thank you, Rauru.”

“With that matter settled,” growled Gor Darmon, “we would know the interpretation of the vision which Queen Zethra of the Hylians has seen.”

“Hero,” Aako repeated.

“Yes,” said Lutai, addressing the queen, “do you suppose the child to be the Hero of the prophecy, as Aako suggests?”

The queen’s eyes stared unseeing through the center of the stone dais. “If he is the Hero, Faroe shall not be in him yet for many years. Nevertheless, the evil is present now. Din is certainly angry. If it is her servant, Itzah, who has been imprisoned, Din will surely wish to answer her servant’s prayers with deliverance. Let us hope she has continued to be lax in her sincerity. A judgment will need to be made, and a sentence wrought. Let us pray Nayru grant us wisdom. We must convene at the Arbiter’s Grounds and pass judgment on our prisoner, whether she is Sage or no.”

Those in audience assented. Then the king turned to the captain. “Colin, do you think this may be connected with…Hansen?” The captain shared a significant glance with the king. The Sages looked on with perplexed faces; all but Aako, who looked like he was the only one who knew a very good secret.

“What is it, Daphnes?” said Zethra, finally. The king nodded to his friend.

“My queen,” said the captain, “I would tell you of one of our finest men, a cousin of mine, whose fate I suspect you have somehow shared. If my thought is not amiss, her Majesty saw his end as it occurred; Hansen was upon the outmost tower guarding the Arbiter’s Grounds. By granting you this dream, the Goddesses may have given us a clue as to how my cousin’s life ended.” The captain paused, then stared at his knees. His fingers wrapped around the knob on the arm of his chair, the knuckles of his thick, rough hands paling with the tension. The king turned to his wife and placed his hand on hers. She gripped it immediately. Then the king laid his other hand on the captain’s clenched fist. The captain’s head shook only slightly, and then he looked up again and cleared his throat.

“Please, Colin, continue,” Zethra said. She had turned to face him directly, across her husband. The eyes of all the Sages were on him.

“May it please my esteemed audience,” he began, more composed, “the queen said that Din had called up her children to free her. If Din stands in the place of…” here again he shifted in his chair, very aware to whom it had belonged, “…of the prisoner, Itzah of the Gerudo, then who would be her children but those of her tribe, the Gerudo themselves. They are all of them skilled in the arts of stealth, and our men were never able to find signs of the attackers. The Gerudo also built the Arbiter’s Grounds as a temple to Din before the Hylia occupied it in the days of the Queen Zanna. This suggests to me that the Gerudo are behind the attacks of the Grounds. They may wish to reclaim it, but hesitate to show themselves until they can ensure that they are able to take it completely.”

Rauru was the first to speak, and when he did it seemed to bring the others out of a trance of pensiveness. “That is an accusation of war, Master Captain. The Gerudo would not defy their king’s vow of truce. You are not old enough to remember the delicate balance that was accomplished between the Gerudo tribes and our own people.”

“I know enough,” the captain rebutted tersely. “The Lord of the Gerudo was a power-monger!”

“He was a madman!” Rauru bellowed, standing erect and imposing, “bent on entering the Golden Land to seize the Power of Gold—that artifact that grants the desires of any who touch it. If he had, like so many others maddened by the prospect of limitless power, he never would have come back. If he had entered he would have doomed their whole race to disappear.”

“Then good riddance!” yelled the captain, meeting the Sage in the middle of the dais with murderous eyes. It was to the captain as if he challenged not a Sage but the Gerudo king himself; the one he held responsible for Hansen’s death.

Almost immediately the king stood up. “Captain,” he said loudly. Then, more quietly, but with no less concern, “Colin, please, I know you’re grieving…” The captain acquiesced. He straightened his tunic and turned to sit. Rauru waited, nonplussed, until the captain was once again in his seat. Then the Sage sat as well.

“Why does the venerable Rauru receive no reprimand?” the captain said quietly, as if to no one in particular.

“Captain,” said Zethra firmly, “your presence here is welcome, and your views invited, but do not add insolence to impertinence. In the council we all are equal, as the matters that pertain to us pertain to all. Rauru represents our people in council. Do not give the other peoples of Hyrule a mistaken impression.” The captain glanced at Aako, whose tongue protruded from his mouth as he folded his arms. The captain did not know at that moment whether to laugh or follow suit, so he compromised and folded his arms. “Now, captain, if you are finished,” said Zethra, “then remain still and hear wisdom.”

Lutai spoke, carefully, so as not to condescend. “As you know, captain, the Gerudo are all women, save for the one male born to them once in a hundred years. It is their only saving grace that their king remains young in body into his old age. The man had no consideration for his people. They would have no king, and no means of perpetuating their race. To lose him would be to lose their way of life. It was therefore incumbent upon the Hylians to care for the Gerudo more than their own king. The man had to be stopped, but not killed, if they were to continue as a race.” The captain’s hands leapt to the rests of his seat. Reacting to the incredulous look on the captain’s face, Lutai pressed forward. “For,” she said, “the Goddesses created the races as a balance—a means of keeping each other in check.” This last word was put a little more forcefully, and coupled with the warning glare of the queen it served to subdue the captain.

“This is why,” concluded Gor Darmon, “the king of the Gerudo had to be threatened with his own life when he invaded. He had to be forced to agree to a truce. It is difficult enough trying to convince the Gerudo that we mean them no harm when their king is threatened, much less if they were accused of acting contrary to the word of their king to make war. We must be interdependent if we are to keep peace. To turn on each other is to commit the same crime you seem so anxious to punish. There are others grieving here, Master Captain.”

The captain looked as if he had just swallowed a particularly dry piece of bread. “So be it,” he said, looking at the floor. “Who then, esteemed ones, do you suppose is perpetrating the attacks?”

“If I may, my queen…” said Rauru, holding the green volume up with a finger in one of the pages.

“Please, Rauru.”

He opened the volume and reviewed what he read there. “In Mudora’s last words he spoke of his servant betraying him for the sake of ‘power and feigned love.’ It may be that his servant, Abrum by name, was seduced. It would be less likely that the Gerudo would disobey their king than that they obtained an insider, a traitor, to do the work for them. They are bound by their own honor not to act against us, but to have it done would not be beyond them.”

The king sat forward. “But who would have seduced Abrum? It would not have been Itzah. Abrum was Mudora’s closest assistant. He knew Itzah as well as any of us. And she was in disguise when she confronted Mudora. She must have had an accomplice.”

“Dancer,” said Aako, looking at the Goron Sage beside him.

“Yes, perhaps…” said Gor Darmon.

“What is it?” asked Lutai.

Gor Darmon’s wide brown face furrowed, making it appear like a large leather raisin. “There were attendants that accompanied Itzah when she would stay in the village. I would see them there sometimes when I came down from the mountain to visit. Abrum would show me the books he was binding for Kakariko’s library and I would teach him how to wrestle like a Goron. After our spars we would relax in the hot springs and Itzah’s attendants would dance for us. They were very good,” he added.

“But if Itzah’s attendants seduced Mudora’s servant, is that not the same as the Gerudo…” the captain began.

“No, Master Captain. It isn’t,” said Lutai, now becoming impatient. “Once Itzah became a Sage, she became a representative to her race not her tribe. It is for the same reason that Rauru can sit in council with the king and queen of his people and be on equal terms. It is a spiritual position, not a political one. For one of the attendants of the Gerudo Sage to induce a Sheikah servant to commit an act of treachery would neither involve the Gerudo as a tribe nor be directly against the Hylians, as were the terms of the truce. If you will consider the matter, you will find it is really quite a cunning move.”

Gor Darmon continued. “Whoever attempted to enter the Temple, it was not Itzah. She was caught, and then…someone took Mudora’s book. And if Mudora’s prediction be proven, it was the Lord Ganondorf who attempted to enter the Sanctuary of the Temple. It is obvious that the taint of the Golden Land still infects the minds of some.”

“That is to be determined, Darmon,” said the king. “Nevertheless, the stain is on the race, if not the tribe. If we make it clear that Itzah has been dealt with, whoever is behind these intrigues will give pause before they try again.” Then the king gazed at his wife with a look that resembled a lion’s fierceness as he is protecting his pride. “And the judgment must be swift, and decisive. I propose that Itzah’s trial be held this very night.”

Then the queen followed her husband’s statement like an echo. “I agree. It is proposed that Itzah’s trial be held this night. Your favors?”

“Aye,” said Rauru.

Aako’s face was set as he gave one strong nod.

“Aye,” growled Gor Darmon.

“Aye,” said Lutai.

“Aye,” said the captain emphatically, pounding his fist on the arm of Itzah’s chair.

The king’s eyes rested on his friend’s zealous face before he cast his favor. “Aye,” he said finally, and exhaled wearily.

“Then it is agreed,” said the queen. “The council will reconvene on the Arbiter’s Grounds at dusk.” And when it was decided that there was nothing further to discuss, the council was dismissed.

After the Sages had risen and begun to leave, Colin leaned in to the king and whispered, “Daphnes, there is something I do not understand.”

“Speak, friend,” said the king kindly.

“Master Rauru said that he was not the oldest among the Sages. Is he still…does he speak of Master Mudora?”

“You allow your eyes to deceive you. There is a Sage among them who is older and no less wise than even Mudora, Nayru keep him.”

“But, who…?”

“Master Aako,” replied the king.

* * *

When the sun set on the Arbiter’s Grounds a struggling prisoner breathed her last, impaled against a stone of obsidian by a sword of hardened light. It was said by those who saw the moon that night that it had turned to blood. In years to come the memory of that moon and cries of pain on the wind would haunt many to their graves. A legacy of treachery and punishment had begun.

Your not going to like my opinon of the Gerudo so I am not even going to waste my time on here as nobody is ready for it.

(Previous to Tetraforce's edit.) I agree, Tetraforce. Actually, the idea of the Gerudo remaining in their depraved and lawless condition on account of others refusing to offer them a way of providing for themselves is an underlying problem continued in the following episodes. The moral dilemma was likewise treated by Thomas More in his Utopia, more recently poularized via Drew Barrymore's engaging performance in the film Ever After:

If you suffer your people to be ill-educated and their manners corrupted from infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded, sire, but that you first make thieves and then punish them?

Well spotted. Thanks for the reply.

WJC3--HoG

Chapter II
TOURNAMENT IN CASTLE TOWN, 1384 HR

“It has been ten years, Rauru. Ten years to the day.” Colin was kneeling before the altar of the temple. His longsword lay naked across it. Colin lifted his eyes to the gray stone Triforce over the sealed Door of Time.

“There is always hope, Colin,” said Rauru, lighting the candelabrum to one side of the Door. “We cannot give up hope.” He turned to look at the captain, resting the butt of his brass candle-lighter on the marble floor. Somewhere in the cloisters, the monks chanted their afternoon devotionals; the sacred music meandering through the temple, seeking ears to hear it.

The captain did not look away from the symbol of the Goddesses. “Hope,” he said, considering the word. Then he bowed his head and leaned forward, his hand to his breast. After a moment he stood, lifting his sword reverently from the altar and replacing it in its sheath. “Hope for what, I wonder…” he said, watching the cushion on the altar resume its natural shape, pushing out the indentation made by the sword. His eyes flitted over the three empty hollows set into the frame of the altar.

“Hope that they may be found…” said Rauru, tentatively, passing to the other side of the Door. He raised the lighter to the short, wax dripped candles.

“My wife and son are dead, Master Sage. I have known it since the survivors of her guard gave me the report.”

“You were given the report that they could not be found,” Rauru offered, “not that they had perished.” Rauru’s outline was lit from behind by the candlelight; a saintly figure looking all the more divine. A poetic coincidence, thought the captain, whose eyes had followed the sage to where he now stood. The captain arched his neck and ran one gnarled hand over his left shoulder, weary from burdens not entirely physical.

Colin sighed. “How long would you look?” he said finally, throwing his hand vaguely into the air.

“As long as I had to. The Goddess of Time is mysterious, but she reveals all,” said Rauru, reviewing Colin’s bent figure with compassion.

Shadow halved Colin's face as he turned away from the light of the candles. Rauru handed the lighter to one of the attendant monks who carried it ceremonially into the nearest side-chapel. In a moment the recess of Din’s Chapel brightened. Rauru folded his hands before him. “We do not wish for horrors, son,” said Rauru, “but the Goddesses give us too much for us not to be thankful for what we have...”

“And what do we have, Father Rauru of the Temple?” Colin hissed bitterly. “A fine sentiment from one who has no loved ones to lose.” Rauru did not speak, but turned to walk toward the cloisters. Now he was the picture of a martyr, thought Colin. He ran his hand through his stiff, sandy hair. “It was you who chose the cloth, not I, priest!” he called. Rauru stopped rigidly by one of the nave’s many columns, but did not turn. “I have seen death enough,” continued Colin. “I simply refuse to give myself more to mourn than I must. If I allow myself to believe they might still…” He waved at the air, opening his mouth, but no sound came out. A lump formed in his throat and lines of wetness streaked down his harsh face, half in the light of the candles. He ran his hand through his hair again and coughed the lump out of his throat. “I might have to…they…I don’t think I could survive if they died again.” He pressed his finger and thumb to his eyes.

“It is true I have no wife,” Rauru said quietly. “I chose to serve the Goddesses. But their joy is mine, their children mine. I may not have fathered a son; but I know the Goddesses are the source of all that is good—life, joy—and I know what it means to lose those you love.” Faroe’s Chapel brightened, softening the harsh shadow on Colin’s face.

Colin’s jaw hardened. He stooped to recover his shield from beside the altar, slinging it over his shoulder. “What do you know of love?” he said, and walked toward the entrance of the temple, pulling his cloth cowl over his head as he went.

“Master Captain,” called Rauru across the nave. Colin stopped, looking toward the vaulted ceiling. Rauru heard him exhale. “Even when those we love are gone, we can trust the Goddesses to keep them,” said Rauru. “They are not truly lost.” Light bloomed in Nayru’s Chapel.

Colin turned only halfway, not looking at the Sage. “I do not come here to pray for their return, Rauru…”

“That is not what I meant…” the Sage began.

“…I come here to mourn,” Colin finished. Then his voice softened. “Can a man not mourn for his loss?”

“You may mourn if you wish, Colin, Captain of the Royal Guard. But your wife and son may not be dead.” Light issued from the final chapel and the monk who bore the brass lighter returned it to Rauru. The monk bowed and stood to one side. “Karin visited here often, if you remember. You were not the only one who loved her. Your son was blessed on this altar. I blessed him myself; you were there. I loved your son, Colin. I have loved every child of the Goddesses that has entered these walls. Who knows but that they might one day be found again.”

“I have had enough of false hope, Rauru. I have drunk it in like water in the desert, and still I am parched. I want no more of it. They are never coming back.” Colin ascended the steps at the end of the nave. When the doors of the temple were closed after him the attending monk turned to the Sage. He was only a youth, about fourteen.

“Father Rauru?” he said.

“Yes, Tobias?”

“Will we stay for the tournament today?”

“I think not. The captain has seen more of me than he pleases. I will let him alone to his thoughts. Besides, I have attended the tournament more often than I care to, I think.” They passed under the archway that led into the auxiliary hall.

“Master?”

“Yes, Tobias,” said Rauru, not unkindly.

“Do you really believe the captain's wife and son are still alive?"

Rauru paused at the alcove in the hallway. Set in the alcove was a wooden cabinet flanked by two lit candelabra. “Karin was always a determined young woman. She would hold on, even when things seemed impossible. If it was not so, she may not have married the captain.” Rauru smiled, reminiscing. He snuffed the flames one by one with a candle-lighter. Then his face straightened as he gazed at the wisping smoke. “My heart does not wish to believe she is dead.” He soberly set the lighter inside the wooden cabinet and unbuttoned his red velvet mantle. He hung it on one of two hooks within the cabinet.

“And the boy?” said Tobias, removing his orange mantle.

“Oh, yes, Colin’s son is alive. I am certain.”

“But how can you be, Father?” said Tobias, hanging his mantle next to his master’s. Tobias’ expression was one of genuine interest.

“Because,” said Rauru, “when I blessed him the candles lit themselves.”

* * *

As Colin passed through the doors of the temple he took in both the even light of a cloudy noonday and the crisp, chilly air of a melting winter. He pulled his steel helmet firmly over his head and buckled the clasp below his chin. The doors of the temple closed behind him gently and he paused, staring at the cobbles of the temple yard. An armoured form stood beside the large stone planter to one side of the entrance doors.

“Captain,” said the young knight, flattening his hand as he touched his longest finger to his brow.

“Afton,” Colin replied, returning the salute briskly. Colin pulled his gloves from under his belt and slid his hands into them, fitting his fingers tightly into the leather.

“The captain is sufficiently prepared?” Afton asked, looking at the sky, the steps and the horizon before turning to the Captain. Colin nodded, but continued to clench one hand absentmindedly. After a moment Afton spoke again, his tone softer. “Permission to speak, sir?” When Colin did not answer Afton continued. “We come here every year, sir.”

“Yes. And?” said Colin, quietly, straightening his tunic.

“And every year you come out of those doors more upset than when you went in.”

“I'm not upset, Afton.”

“Then what do you call it, sir?”

Colin considered the knight for a moment. “Afton, how long have you been my second lieutenant?”

“Six years, sir. And proudly.” Afton stood straighter.

“In all that time have you known me to punish a man who did not deserve it?”

“No, sir.”

Colin stepped closer to the young knight. He chose his words; “I do not…Rauru means no harm, but…I won't avoid the temple just to avoid him. I need to mourn, Afton. I need to remember them. We need to remember them.”

Afton bowed his head. “I do remember my sister, Colin, Faroe keep her…”

“Oh, now you sound like the priest…” said Colin over him.

“…but I don't blame anyone for losing her.”

“Care for a walk, lieutenant?” asked Colin abruptly.

“Certainly, sir,” Afton replied, swallowing his words. He fell into step behind the captain. They marched away from the temple’s main doors, over the tightly set cobblestone path, and out of the grounds through the open iron wrought gate. Just outside the gate six other knights waited, standing in formation.

“Same as usual, men,” said Colin. “Let's give them a good show.” He drew his longsword and rested the flat of the blade against his shoulder casually. The six knights fell in behind Colin, marching in two rows with rapiers held beneath their chins, blades toward the sky. Afton followed suit, tucking the hilt of his rapier under his chin, and fell back to march point. The procession of knights weaved through the backstreets of Hyrule’s Castle Town, the steel of their spurs clinking, the weight of their boots falling loudly as they marched in rhythm toward the town’s central courtyard.

Anxiously, the crowds awaited the arrival of the captain, their king and queen. In the center of the courtyard was a grand fountain whose waters leaped up toward the clouded sky. Perched in its center was the stylized figure of a large stone owl with three triangles in place of its head. Some townspeople were sitting at the tables of the street café. Others were leaning out over the ledges of their stone balconies. Still others were huddled in groups near the shop awnings of the marketplace buying festive treats from the vendors, listening to the music of street performers, watching the jugglers, or chasing their restless children around the circular courtyard. But most of the citizens of Hyrule were gathered behind the coloured ropes that had been tied to the poles marking the boudaries of the parade. Even the soldiers, stationed at every gate, grew restless with waiting, their spears leaning lazily on their shoulders.

Suddenly, the soldiers at the eastern gate lifted their trumpets and let forth a military fanfare. Then the sound of clinking spurs and heavy boots came from the courtyard's eastern gate. Presently a procession of knights emerged from the gate led by Colin, the Captain of the Royal Guard. The jugglers paused, the singers quieted, and the crowds hushed as the knights marched up to the shallow steps before the great northern gate, forming staggered ranks with military precision. Colin stood on the lowest step, his longsword resting on his shoulder, while four of the knights stood a step above him (with Afton on the end), and the remaining three took up positions on the third step. Every knight stood at attention, their white tunics splayed with red birds, rapiers under their chins, looking like statues of the valiant heroes of old.

Then the two soldiers on either side of the north gate took up trumpets and blew a regal fanfare. Moments later the huge wooden doors of the northern gate swung inward and another set of trumpets echoed from somewhere beyond. The crowds lifted up cheers and whoops as the procession emerged. The first soldier to come out from between the doors was the ensign, holding aloft the flag of the royal family; a white ground with the red owl emblazoned on it, the head replaced by three triangles. After him came a vanguard of six soldiers, the two in front blowing their trumpets while the rest marched in step carrying straight spears and tall rectangular shields. Then the crowds of townspeople cheered louder to see their king emerge from between the doors. Daphnes wore his red coat, white breeches and high golden crown. He laughed joyfully in answer to the cheers of his people, lagging behind the soldiers as they made their way out of the gate and around to the other side of the great fountain. Flanking the king on four sides were the Darknaughts, heavily armored and highly trained knights of Hyrule; bodyguards of the king outside the castle walls. In addition to his rapier and shield, each Darknaught bore a heavy weapon; one a single-bladed axe, one a mace, one a thick-bladed scimitar, and the last a wide, double-edged sword.

So impenetrable was the armour of the Darknaughts and so immovable their bulk that they were thought of as extensions of the castle walls themselves. Unless a Darknaught was given cause to move they remained motionless and so the people regarded them as little more than obstacles to be avoided. If any person gave a Darknaught cause to move, however, a Darknaught's wrath commanded instant dread and respect. The Darknaughts were so called for their reputation that any evil—any dark designs that threatened their king—would come to naught so long as one of them stood. They were willing to give all, even their lives, to protect their king. It was for this reason that the king never had aught to fear so long as his guard was nearby.

Once the Darknaughts had escorted Daphnes to a chair waiting for him on the top step, they took up positions before him on the steps of the north gate. Then the soldiers flanking the north gate blew a new, solemn fanfare. Immediately the call was answered by another pair of trumpeters preceding four more soldiers. Behind these came four lean but knot-muscled men bearing a litter on their shoulders. Each of them was wrapped in frayed white clothes and wore light gray, soft-leather boots and forearm-sleeves. The ears of each Sheik bore small golden hoops and their heads and faces were swathed in strips of white fabric. Each Sheik bore a tattered flap of cloth over his chest bearing a single red eye with a tear below it; the symbol of the Sheikah people.

The Sheiks were the most disciplined and skilled of the Sheikah, who had vowed since the days of the War of the Golden Land to protect the daughters of the Hylian Royal Family. They excelled at stealth, surprise and intrigue, and it was said that the red eyes of a Sheik glowed like embers. The people mostly regarded them with fear and unease, for it was said that a Sheik could look into your soul and force you to face your deepest truths. They protected the queen out of duty, and a Sheik was known to treat all with the honor they deserved. It was for this reason that they bore the queen's litter, which they presently set on the top step of the north gate opposite the king's throne. Two of the Sheiks tied back the curtains of the litter to reveal the queen, Zethra, kneeling on her seat. She was clothed in her purple vest, white gown and golden belt and circlet. From her belt hung the apron of her station, bearing the red owl of the Hylian Royal Family. On her lap lay a small blue ocarina. When all was arranged, the Sheiks sat before the litter on the steps—each with back erect, limbs deceptively relaxed, their red eyes scanning the crowd, daring any to meet their gaze.

The king stood, quieting the cheering crowds. “Welcome! I bid you welcome to this, the Tournament of Hyrule!” he called out. The people cheered again. A line of men to one side of the north gate raised wooden practice swords high in the air and shouted, throwing their arms and waving at others in the crowd. “These,” called the king, indicating the line of men, “are the valiant few who are best in Hyrule with the sword! Today we shall see if any of these may best our own Captain!” Many in the crowd hollered taunts; some of the men whipped their swords around in anticipation. The Captain remained stone-faced, relaxed and unmoving. The crowd started chanting, calling for the tournament to begin.

“Yes, yes, at length,” said the king, “but all in it’s proper time. First, to the ceremony!” As the people looked anxiously toward their king, he raised a hand to his chest. Grasping a stone amulet that hung there, the king bowed his head theatrically. After a moment he raised it again and called out “The Sages have been summoned! Let us welcome the Sages of Hyrule!” And as the people cheered again, colored lights began swirling around in the air among the wisps of the gray sky.

The first to descend was a streak of green, landing in the courtyard in a bubbling mass of olive light that materialized into Aako, leaping and laughing, spinning and skipping in the air. He wore little brown shoes that laced up his feet, a green tunic with a brown cloth belt with a red tassel, and a short apron. On his head was a cap that looked like a large curled leaf and in his hand was a viola which he played as he danced. The people clapped and laughed with him and the children in the crowd stomped their little feet and jumped to the song of the Koroki Sage.

The next to fall was a shot of blue, materializing into Lutai, dressed in a magnificent netted gown of lavender with a red apron over her chest, a circlet of fishbone gracing her finned brow. She played her small fishbone harp. The ladies in the crowd all chattered about her fashion and soon they were too occupied to notice the large blob of red that formed the bulky mass of Gor Darmon, swathed like a wrestler, red tribal markings tracing his huge arms. He stomped and beat on his chest and drums, causing the ground to vibrate. The people were delighted every time the ground shook and laughter broke out when Davis, the large man running the shooting gallery, promptly fell over, visibly rattled.

A yellow light came from the sky and for a moment it was as if the sun had emerged from behind the clouds and fallen to Castle Town’s courtyard. The truth was swiftly revealed, however, as Rauru emerged from the yellow light wearing a golden belt over a white robe embroidered with golden thread. A double-reeded horn hooted between his whiskered lips, calling the raucousness of the crowds to a lull, finally hushing even the children as they heard his melancholy tune. The Captain stared at the ground, as stone-faced as ever. When Rauru finished, the entranced crowds clapped at the performance, the Sages bowing in response.

“Thank you for welcoming the esteemed Sages with such enthusiasm,” called Daphnes from the top of the stairs. The people were attentive. “We recognize the absence of our loved friend Mudora, Sage of Shadow and former representative of the Sheikah people, passed these many years ago, Nayru keep him. We respectfully acknowledge the Sheiks of Kakariko as ambassadors to Hyrule.” The four lean men surrounding the queen’s litter bowed in unison, each placing their palms together. The king continued. “We also recognize the absence of the Sage of Spirit, as there have been none to come forward from the Gerudo since the time that the Traitor was discovered. As such we recognize Zethra, the Queen of Hyrule as the Seventh Sage, filling this vacancy in council since those dark times. Thus constituted, we shall begin the opening of the tournament.” From a loop on his belt the king pulled a baton made of ivory, carved and traced with curling shapes. As he raised it in the air, the Sages lifted their instruments to the ready. The queen lifted the ocarina from her lap and pressed it to her lips…

But instead of a song, a distant boom was heard over the crowd. Low and resonant, some whispered that it was an attack; others said it was the canon of some distant ship. Then another boom came; unmistakably from the south, toward the fields of Hyrule. It sounded like a great fist knocking on the outer gates of the city. The Darknaughts brandished their heavy weapons, while the Sheiks peered through the crowds toward the southern gate. The soldiers shuffled their feet and looked around nervously; the ensign gripped his flagpole with unease. The crowds grew restless, shifting like cattle in a branding pen. In moments, the mood had gone from festive to fearful.

The captain looked up to the king, who nodded. Colin stepped out into the courtyard toward the eastern gate. “Horse!” he called, and in moments one of the pages had brought him his dappled gray. Then Colin mounted and was gone through the southern gate.

Time passed uneasily, feeling much longer than it was, but in minutes Colin had returned. He dismounted at the base of the steps and approached the king, unobstructed by the Darknaughts.

“There is a Gerudo at the southern gate, my Liege,” Colin said.

“A Gerudo?” the king replied with obvious surprise. “Has she come to…?”

“It isn't a she, my Liege,” said the captain quickly.

Daphnes’ face straightened, comprehending. “By the Goddesses…what does he want?”

“He says he wishes to enter the gates of Hyrule to swear fealty to her king.”

The king tucked the baton back into his belt and signaled to the Sages. Faster than they had come, they were gone, streaks of coloured light whipping back into the gray late-winter sky. Then Daphnes looked to his wife. Zethra raised her head and narrowed her eyes, considering. She met the gaze of one of her Sheiks, who stared, unblinking directly into her eyes. He seemed to be fed somehow by her looking at him; into him. Then the Sheik stood, took the Ocarina from her, and disappeared in a puff of smoke that caused the crowd to jump. Zethra nodded to her husband.

Satisfied, the king stood. “I am afraid the tournament must be postponed,” he announced. “Until further notice…” The people began scurrying away, back to their homes. The king turned back to Colin. “Let him in.”

* * *

“Impa will help you keep it safe, my love. And pay your dreams no mind. Goodnight,” said the king with his hand on the doorknob. “Sleep well.”

After her father closed the door—when the curtains of Zelda’s bed-chamber had been drawn and all but her nursemaid had left—the young princess of Hyrule turned the clay instrument over in her hands. This was the legendary ocarina that had sealed the Door of Time, she marveled. Tucking it under her pillow, she spoke to her nursemaid.

“Impa, what if I dream about the clouds again?”

A tall, youthful woman with white hair stepped from the shadows. From her neck hung the symbol of an eye with a single tear. “Do not worry, young one. Your father will come to trust your premonitions.” Impa sat on the edge of the princess’ bed. “Come; let me sing you a lullaby.”

Chapter III
CHALLENGES IN THE WOOD

Pudgy cloven hooves shuffled over the mat of pine needles that littered the ground near the edge of the forest. The wild boar snorted, nosing up the bark of an oak. Then, finding the flavorful fungus it was searching for, it began to dig at the soft ground with its tusks. Above the pig, hidden behind one of the tree’s large branches, was a pair of deep green eyes. As soon as the animal had begun feasting on its meal, a green-clad child fell from above and landed squarely on the boar’s dark brown back. Kicking his bare heels into the pig’s sides, the child yelped and the animal squealed throwing clumps of turf into the air as it reared and ran off between the trees. Suddenly a crowd of children sprang to life, green-clothed and leaf-capped, seemingly emerging from the trees themselves, cheering and squealing with laughter. And then the chase was on.

The boar wheeled, charged, bucked and stamped, but the green-eyed child held tight to the animal’s tusks, his short legs circling its belly. Further and further into the forest sped the steed and its rider, thick trees whipping past like blurred arboreal columns. The other children followed, their small feet carrying their small bodies swiftly over the mat of pine needles and into the denser brush of the deep wood. Their footing told of how they must have traveled these places often, and at great speed; toes touched the tops of roots only to leap swiftly away, paths were followed as soon as ignored, but none of the children were ever lost. Each of them followed the leader as easily as putting one foot before the other.

Then the ignorant observer would become aware that these children were something more than ordinary; for with seemingly no delay in their cheerful race the children appeared to leap directly into the trees that made up the forest, passing through them as surely as ghosts, emerging from another tree some way on in their path. In this way the green-clad children paced the daring child on his porcine steed. They surely could have surpassed him, but the fun was in watching him until he fell off—it was not a race after all, but sport!

These green-clad children were the Koroki; spirits of the forest, ever-young and always innocent, but old as time and some of them no less wise. Their lives were laughing and play, and never a care would cross their minds except what might make a good challenge for the other children. Once a challenge was made it was never questioned, and as soon as it was accepted it was attempted, and all the other children came to watch. Today Saria challenged Aako to ride a boar until he fell off, and she was naturally at the front of the crowd to watch him when he did. Aako looked up at Saria from the back of the boar. Her tongue protruded from her mouth mockingly. A sudden arrogance rose inside him, as if the taunt gave him more courage. He smirked.

The boar was tiring a little, which made it more reckless, and soon it slammed into a thick pine tree, throwing Aako’s curled Dekku-leaf cap from his head. But Aako held on tighter, shook the daze from his head and tried to steady his deep green eyes on the swiftly traveling bracken. Then he had an idea.

Aako looked around at the crowd of children pacing him and made sure Saria was watching. Then he grinned impishly and pulled up on the boar’s tusks. The boar skidded to a halt in the mat of needles and reared, setting Aako on his feet for a moment. In that moment he leaned backward and twisted, landing the boar on its own four hooves, facing the opposite direction with Aako on its back again. The rush of children flew haphazardly around him, faces of surprise and glee flashing like little candles. Then Aako leaned forward, yelped in the face of his steed, slapped its rump and they bolted off again.

The Koroki all squealed at this new spin on the game—now, instead of watch until Aako fell off, it was don’t let Aako get away. So all the children, including a disgruntled Saria who was now at the back of the childish mob, turned and chased after Aako’s quickly diminishing form. Once he could see the other children were following he slowed down a little, dragging his feet on the turf. Soon Saria had caught up, emerging from a tree to the right of Aako and hollering at him before disappearing into another trunk. “Cheater!” she yelled. “No fair!”

“Fair, fair!” Aako hollered back from atop the speeding boar. “Smart!” And then he twisted the boar’s tusks hard to the right. Turning with Aako’s direction, the boar careened into the tree from which Saria had just emerged. Saria yelped and fell to the ground. Aako was thrown from the boar’s back and flew through the air, landing on top of Saria. They rolled together over a carpet of orange and red deciduous leaves, a mass of tangled child arms and legs, until they came to the edge of an incline. The other children watched as Saria and Aako untangled themselves with shouts of “Cheater!” and “Smart!” while the two kept trying to push the other down, smiling all the while.

The other Koroki caught on to this new game, too. Now it was push down Saria and Aako. So they all rushed the quarreling pair, knocking them over the edge of the incline, and then the larger tangle of children slid down the incline into the creek below. A few stragglers came to the edge only to push each other over, falling with the rest of the children, giggling happily. At the bottom they all thrashed about, rolling in the shallow water until they were not green-, but mud-clad children.

Then a sound from nearby called all of them out of their reverie and froze them in place; it was a horses nicker. And was that the creak of wooden wheels on wooden axles? A wagon was coming up the path. One of the children whispered hide, which, of course, became the new game. So all the Koroki pulled themselves out of the mud and scrambled toward the bridge that spanned the shallow creek. Just before the wagon came into view they were all nestled together, shushing each other, alternately covering their mouths and spitting mud.

At least, almost all of them. Aako was still standing in the middle of the creek. Another curious thing about the Koroki was that to normal folk they might look like nothing in particular. So Aako stood right where he was, looking like a child-shaped muddy stump, defying the others in their game.

Saria motioned to Aako to hurry, scooping at him with her hand. “Come!” she mouthed, but Aako stood firm, shaking his head and smiling surreptitiously. Then the wagon came out from behind the trees. It was small and purple and had a door on the side which was painted in bright happy colors. “Happy Mask Salesman” said the fancy painted words, and sure enough the wagon was covered all over with a variety of masks—wooden masks with tribal markings hanging from the railing around the top of the wagon, polished doll-like masks and scary masks nailed to the wagon’s outer planks, even a mask that had one large red eye with a tear below it hanging from the doorknob.

The wagon was pulled by a single pony, and its driver was a skinny man with squinty eyes and greasy red hair parted down the middle. He wore a long purple coat buttoned up over a matching set of trousers, pointed shoes that curled at the ends, and a smile that never wavered from the moment Aako set eyes on him. His pony was slowing down, favoring one of its hind legs. The wagon stopped on the bridge.

“What is it Brutus?” said the driver with a rough voice that belied his smiling face. Despite the sign on the door of the wagon and the man’s persistent smile, he sounded anything but happy. “What’s got into you?” The Koroki children held their fingers to their lips and Saria stood to look between the planks of the bridge. The driver lashed the reins to a bar in front of the seat and got out. “This is the last time I’ll travel with a pony,” the salesman said, placing his hands on his hips. He stood on the bridge a moment, stooping with a noticeable hunch. Then from further down the path there was a snort; it sounded like the boar had come around and was snuffing up another tree. The snort caught the salesman’s attention and he looked without removing his hands from his hips. “Well, now, Brutus, it may have been a good thing we stopped,” he said, never ceasing to smile.

The salesman watched the boar, which was just out of Aako’s sight. “Oh, so you’re that kind, are you?” said the salesman greasily. “We haven’t got one of these, Brutus.” And the salesman turned and went to his wagon, opening the brightly painted door and fumbling with some things inside. He emerged with a long polished wand, painted a color that was clearly meant to match his coat and trousers but was actually a faded violet instead. The salesman walked calmly past his horse and hunched beside the boar which was still snuffling at the base of the tree. The salesman pointed his wand at the animal and for a moment Aako thought he was going to poke it, but instead the salesman waved the wand in a swooping motion over the boar. At the same time, the salesman began to hum a melody that Aako had never heard before. In a moment there was a squeal and a flash of purple light, and the salesman lowered his wand. Then he stooped and picked up something from the ground.

As the salesman turned to walk back to his wagon Aako could see that he was carrying a mask that looked remarkably like a boar with tusks protruding from the face. Brutus nickered. “Yes, very nice, I think, Brutus. This should be a fine one to trade. I can already hear the witch thanking me with a clinking of bottles and a full vial of that potion you like so much.” And the salesman placed his wand and his new mask inside the wagon, shut the door and got into his seat. “Shall we, then?” He was about to untie the reins when he paused and smacked his head. “Oh, now I remember, stupid horse,” he said and got out again. Kneeling down, he examined the pony’s hind leg.

Just then one of the Koroki boys edged out from under the bridge and one of the little girls smiled after him mischievously. Saria saw the boy and tried to grab him by the back of his muddy green shirt, but he was already up the slope and watching the salesman to see if he would turn around. “Hold on, now Brutus, it’s almost out,” said the salesman, and the Koroki boy stepped lightly up to the wagon, reached inside, snatched the first mask he could find and darted back under the bridge. The pony nickered. “There. It’s out,” the salesman said, and crawled back into the driver’s seat. He untied the reins and held them loose. Then he turned his head and looked straight in Aako’s direction.

“And don’t think I haven’t seen you, little one. I am no one from these parts; blind and stupid to your little tricks. You’re lucky I don’t have time to delay any longer. But I’ll be back for my mask, you can be sure of that. I know how to find you…” The smiling man clicked his tongue and snapped the reins. His pony went trotting away with the wagon in tow.

Aako stood still. Did the salesman think Aako had taken the mask? Did he know there were others? And what did he mean when he said he knew how to find him? Aako waited until the cart was almost out of sight. When the cart didn’t stop or turn, Aako ran up the slope and watched the wagon disappear into the trees. The boar was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

A small blue light hovered over Aako’s head. He and the other children had come straight back to tell the great Dekku Tree of what they had seen. The boughs of the great tree spanned the breadth of the clearing, the sunlight of midday filtering down through the tree’s wide, glossy green leaves. The ground hummed just before the tree spoke:

“Thou art certain the man left the forest?” said the huge tree-face.

“We are sure, Father Dekku,” a small voice said, coming from the ball of light hovering over Aako’s head. Delicate dragonfly wings stretched out of the light, twitching as they kept the blue ball aloft.

The ground reverberated and the tree spoke again. The air coming from its mouth smelled of rich brown soil. “Very well, then. It is to be seen what shall come of this. Have ye still the mask that was taken?”

A pale yellow light emerged from the crowd of children and the boy who took the mask walked meekly forward, the pale light trailing behind him. “We stole it,” said the fairy hovering over his head.

“Felso, hast thou the mask that ye have stolen?” the tree hummed.

In response Felso produced from behind his back a heart-shaped mask with large red eyes and tribal markings. The ground reverberated again as the tree pondered the mask. “This mask seemeth to me an evil thing. It should be returned to its rightful owner as soon as can be arranged. Felso, give the mask to Aako.” Aako received the mask.

For a moment the clearing was quiet, with little more than the hollow sound of a lazy breeze whistling across the subterranean wooden tubes that gave the great tree his voice. Father Dekku seemed to be pondering. Several Koroki children shifted their feet on the packed turf near the entrance of the clearing. Finally, the ground hummed and the tree spoke again: “This is not the first time thou hast stolen, Felso. And this, the object of your frivolity, has brought a pall of doom to our forest. I sense that it shall mean only greater doom for any who enter here and at length for all the land. Yet the future is difficult to be seen…” The tree-face paused again. Finally: “Thy games have ever been theft and threachery and I cannot abide it any longer. Thou hast been warned, and now thou must receive the fruits of thy deeds. For this thing which thou hast done, thou art banished to the Lost Woods.” The boy hung his head and his fairy drooped a little in the air, its pale yellow light dimming.

All of the other children mumbled in astonishment. They stepped away, leaving Felso alone in their midst. Then one of the girls stepped forward boldly and her deep purple fairy emerged and spoke. “We dared him to, Father Dekku. It’s our fault.” The other children shushed in amazement. None of the others dared to join this game. The bold child’s jaw was set, her arms folded across her young chest, the light of her fairy shining steady and brilliant. The face of the tree bent and twisted so that it seemed to raise its eyebrows.

“The wrong he has done was not done by thee, Solfe,” the tree hummed. “Nevertheless, thou wouldst share his punishment?”

“Fair,” said Solfe.

“Thou must know that Felso’s guardian, Tatl, and thy guardian, Tael, shall remain with me and ye shall wander the forest alone. Art thou willing to do this on Felso’s behalf?”

“Fair,” Solfe repeated. Felso lifted his bowed head to look at Solfe. She smiled at him softly.

“Very well. It is a kind thing thou hast done to ease him in his loneliness. It shall be enough that ye are without the forest. Know, then, that soon the youth which I have given thee shall become as dry wood. Know that at length thy memories shall fail and ye shall not remember these, thy companions. Moreover thou shalt not remember thy misdeeds, but shall be innocent again, to start anew in the woods. Only once before has a Koroki child been banished to the Lost Woods, and though I loathe it it must be done. I delight in your games and am pleased by your happiness, but mischief I cannot abide. Tael, Tatl, come to me.” The fairies obeyed reluctantly. They hovered to one side, near the tree’s gargantuan roots.

Felso and Solfe shivered before the other children like outcasts. To be without a fairy to them was like being without a soul. “Mido, wilt thou guide these to the borders of the Lost Woods? Return to me with haste,” said the Dekku tree.

A boy with a blue fairy stepped out of the crowd with a haughty air. Then he turned and marched out of the clearing by the entrance, the other children parting to let him through. Felso looked at Solfe timidly and reached for her hand. Her mouth twitched into an uncertain smile and they followed after Mido.

The Dekku tree spoke again. “Please, my children, return to your trees. Rest awhile. Then, when the weight of these things has lifted, I would that ye should play again. Go now and rest.” The children turned and left by the entrance of the clearing. Then, just as they had almost all gone, the tree called for Aako and Saria. The pair paused where they stood.

“Come forward children,” the tree said.

They did so. “What is it Father Dekku?” said Saria’s fairy, which glowed a light blue.

“I have aught to tell thee. I sense a great evil approaching; a man…a man with hatred in his heart, and a lust for power. It is the man who came to Castle Town. Aako, go to the temple behind the Lost Woods and bring me the Emerald so that we can be certain the Stone remains safe. Saria, you shall return to the bridge in the forest. Take with you the mask that was stolen. The man is already on his way to retrieve it. Be gone no longer than you must.”

Saria accepted the mask from Aako. Then Aako ran out of the clearing. Saria hesitated, looking down at the mask. Its red eyes seemed to stare straight into hers.

“What is it, dear one?” said the Dekku tree.

“Scary,” said Saria.

“Yes. I cannot fathom from whence it comes,” said the tree. “There is evil in that mask. It feels like the power of the Goddesses, but foreign; strange. Do not put it on, and do not let anyone else do so. I am certain that it is cursed.”

“Father Dekku?” said Saria’s fairy, “what became of the other one…the one that was banished?”

“Ah, yes. I have thought of him of late. He still lives in the woods, a thin shadow of what he once was. He was one of my most dear… When he left the forest his once green clothes turned brown and orange, his youth became withered and dry, like twigs. He remembers nothing of his past life, and knows no joys in his present one, except perhaps music. For some time I felt him passing through the wood, following around the lost travelers and playing his flute for them. But they were frightened by him and they would flee from before him. Since that time he has grown bitter, and tries to scare away or mislead any who come near. I feared sending Felso away lest he should share a similar fate. But as Solfe has gone with him, I have hope that they might not…”

“Father?” said Saria’s fairy again.

“Yes, dear one?”

“What was the name of the one who was sent away?”

“Skulki,” the tree said, with an expression of remembered grief. “And his fairy was called Navi.”

* * *

That night the wind-whipped clouds drifted quickly past the window of the boy’s tree-house. The boy turned over, shivering in the cold of his dreams. His nightmares had become worse of late: loud clanking chains and great groans of creaking wood—the sound of hurried hooves on cobblestone—always a white horse bearing two riders; one a tall woman, the other a young girl. The girl throws something… Then the face that strikes fear into the boy; long and brown, with eyes set heavily behind bushy red eyebrows. The man on his black steed raises a hand and then pain! The world around him vanishes and there is only pain ripping through his muscle like a plough through rain-drenched soil. And then the wicked laugh, red and horrible.

Yet for all this, the boy with no fairy seemed to sleep soundly.

Chapter IV
RACE IN THE CAVERNS

The gaping subterranean grotto thrummed continuously, the sound of stone grinding against heavy stone rumbling and bouncing off the walls, passing out of one great cave and into the next, making it seem like the earth was uttering one long, dissatisfied grumble. In truth, however, the Gorons were racing.

A train of boulders of assorted sizes rolled through the maze-work of tunnels that made up the Goron city. The tunnels were big enough to fit a horse and wagon, but in some cases the boulders only just slid through as they rolled on, as if it was they that had formed the shapes of the tunnels on their course through the living stone. The boulders, however, were closer to living stone than anything else in Hyrule. They were the Gorons themselves.

The fact that the boulders were not ordinary would have become obvious to the patient observer as they seemed to be able to roll up inclines that were too steep for any ordinary boulder to surmount by momentum alone. One might blink in wonder, but so fast were the Gorons as they raced through caverns, over subterranean chasms, up natural ramps and through forests of stalagmites that to blink was to miss the whole race. It was at the end of the final incline that the assorted train of rocks all threw themselves off the edge of a gaping chasm far enough across to stretch ten men. None was in any danger, however, for each of them fell with practiced accuracy into a great hollow chute that was carved to resemble a stylized mouth. Into the hungry stone maw they flew in close and flurried succession, slowing down only after emerging into the room designated for the end of the race—a cave in the shape of a gigantic shallow bowl, ridged with the strata of countless races, ground smooth by countless stony backs.

The first to enter the circular finish room was one of the larger Gorons. He rolled around the edge of the room, tightening his orbit each time, until finally he dropped through the hole in the center. When he landed some fifty feet below his impact boomed through the caverns with such force that it made the earth shrug. The stone man unrolled and stood looking intently to the hole from whence he had fallen. The Goron was an impressive giant—almost nine feet tall, the bulk of his torso contrasted by comparatively short, yet well-muscled legs, arms long and strong like an ape’s, and a wide, flat face rimmed with tufts of straight, wiry hair as brown as his skin, both of which camouflaged him well against the surrounding rock. His brown body and hair were wet with perspiration, making him look like a large, exquisitely carved, glossy sculpture. This was Gor Daruni, the chief of the Gorons and the champion of the Goron races.

No sooner had Gor Daruni landed than all of the other racers came falling down after him. The next to fall was a Goron almost as large as Daruni himself. Daruni deftly caught the massive living boulder and launched him away, hurtling him into the wall of the stone chamber, where the Goron rebounded harmlessly. Immediately following, in third place, was a very small Goron who was also rebuffed by Daruni with the stony knuckles of one thick fist. Gor Daruni resisted all of his competitors, batting away the smaller ones, catching and throwing those that were larger, even using some to deflect others who came quickly after. When they were all through the hole in the ceiling the floor of the cavern was whirling with rolling Gorons, grinding the floor in crisscrossing patterns, weaving deftly in and out of each other. Then Daruni bellowed triumphantly, beating his chest with his massive rock-fists. One by one the other racers responded with their own grunts and growls, unfolding and beating their chests like drums.

Gor Daruni’s victory shout echoed up to the stone balconies overlooking the cavern where all the other Gorons cheered for their champion, the sound vibrating through the walls of the stone hall as if the whole earth were quaking in jubilation. The quaking was followed by the boom of stony hands on stretched leather as the spectators above began to play on true drums. And then the Goron racers began to dance—such liveliness and energy none could ever attribute to dead stone! But here were the Gorons, living statues, stamping their feet, throwing up their hands and clapping, shouting and drumming on their chests and legs and round bellies, laughing and cheering.

Even Medigoro was there, the second largest living Goron, his huge head nodding to the beat. Medigoro was also the second oldest Goron in the city and had grown so huge that he could only fit his head into the Goron caves. He got around by traveling through special tunnels which had been excavated from the surface. The ancient stone man had joined his brothers at the end of the race to witness Daruni’s victory, but he quickly had to return to his work making ‘knives,’ which were, in reality, swords as tall as men. It took him many years to craft one blade, and so he set aside little time for anything else. After some time watching the racers dance, Medigoro grunted to his brothers, clapped his hands twice to show he had enjoyed himself (knocking some of the smaller Gorons to the ground with the shockwave) then turned and rolled away through his tunnel, back to his furnace and bellows.

When the dancing was over, the other Gorons all rolled back to their caves, tired and joyful. Only a dozen or so Gorons lingered.

“You gave a good race, Darmon,” said Gor Daruni heartily as he smacked the back of the Goron who took second place. “You gave me very little chance to catch you this time.”

“I am not as young as you, Daruni, and I am getting stiff in the joints,” said the sage, stretching his stony back with the sound of shifting rocks. “I could beat you when you were as old as Garnus, there. Oi, Garnus, good race!” he bellowed, beating his chest toward the small Goron who took third. In all reality the ‘small’ Goron was the size of a man, though he was only a child by Goron standards. Garnus beat his chest at Darmon and smiled in response. Garnus had been speaking to a few other Gorons, all of whom were bigger than he. They treated Garnus with visible respect.

“I remember those days well, brother,” said Daruni, grinning. It was custom for the Gorons to call each other ‘brother’ even though there were certainly fathers and sons, uncles and nephews. It was perplexing to most other races how the Gorons continued, seemingly without a female of the species. The stony people were as much flesh and blood as rock, to be sure. They consumed minerals, certainly, which explained why deposits of minerals grew out of their backs and arms and hands. As time passed Gorons would become old, aging visibly and eventually they would die. New Gorons would appear, young and vibrant, and eventually they would grow larger as they aged. But no one knew where the young Gorons came from, or why they designated themselves as fathers and sons. It didn’t seem to concern the Gorons, in any case. Whatever they were, they all thought of each other as brothers, and cared for their tribe as much as any family.

Daruni and Darmon improved the walk back to their caves with conversation (the time it took to roll there being miniscule by comparison). As the joyfulness of the celebration dissipated, Daruni’s face grew more serious. “Has your grandson chosen who will lead him into the crater when he comes of age?” Daruni asked.

“No,” said the sage. “It has been so long since his father went into the fires of the mountain to contain the dragon Volvagia. Garnus never realized why his father didn’t come back. I have wondered how to tell him the truth, but I can never find the right moment. He still thinks of his father as the great Goron hero who defeated the dragon.”

“This is why he retains his father’s hammer…” said Daruni.

“Yes. It is all Garnus has left. He keeps it in the hope that his father will come back to reclaim it some day. He looks forward to a time of great need for our people. He tells me of the Sheikah prophets who say that a hero will be chosen to fight the great evil. He thinks it will be his father, returned from his adventures.”

“Does Garnus know it will be a child who fulfills the prophecy?” Daruni asked.

“No, Daruni, only we Sages know of those things, and I have only been permitted to share them with you because you are our chief. I have not told my grandson, even as close as we are.”

“You are the closest thing he has to a father, Darmon.”

“I know,” Gor Darmon replied. They walked silently for some time. The spectator’s path wound up and around the track, through a wide cavern into which spilled a cascading streamlet of lava, lending warmth and a moody red hue to the chamber. Gorons are highly tolerant of heat due to their thick skins and rocky exteriors. It was for this reason that they were able to utilize the lava that flowed naturally through the mountain for light and heat, as the mountain was actually an active volcano. They shuffled past the lava stream, a pair of waddling statues, between the stalagmites that jutted out of the cavern floor like tall pointed teeth.

The Goron Chieftain spoke. “Darmon, I have been thinking about Garnus’ place in the tribe…”

“Yes, brother,” said Darmon, respectfully. Though Gor Darmon was the older of the two he treated Gor Daruni with deference when it came to matters of the tribe.

“The brothers thinks much of him. They look to him as someone destined to be great among us. It may be best to take away his father’s hammer.”

“But Daruni,” said the sage, not defiant, but curious, “it was you who gave it to him, you who delved into the crater to search for his father, you who retrieved the hammer when our hero could not be found. It was you who gave the tribe hope when you told us that our brave brother had vanquished the mighty dragon. Garnus holds to the hammer in remembrance of that hope.”

“I know, Darmon, but his hope is in a father that will never return…” Gor Darmon was quiet. His face showed the conflict within as he waddled alongside his younger ‘brother.’

“Yes, Daruni, I see. It may be better to take the hammer from him.” Darmon’s small black eyes peered into the red light.

“I will keep it safe, Darmon, you have no need to fear for that.”

“It is not that, Daruni, you know I trust you…”

“Then what is it, brother?”

Darmon shook his wide head. “Nothing, brother, nothing…I just wonder who he will choose to take him into the crater…”

Now the chieftain was silent. Then he said, “I would not want to replace you, Darmon. You know I simply wish your grandson to find his own hope; a firm hope.”

“Yes, Daruni, you are wise.” Then Gor Darmon chuckled, sounding like sliding gravel. Gor Daruni stopped, thinking Darmon was laughing at him. “I am sorry, I am sorry, brother,” said Darmon quickly. “I simply thought of one who Garnus could not choose.”

“Who is that, brother?”

“Medigoro.” And they both laughed like a grumbling landslide.

* * *

By the time the ‘brothers’ neared the center of the Goron city the quality of the light had changed. The lava flow had drained into a hidden sluice in the wall, going off to light and heat some other part of the Goron city; the cave was now lit by a cooler, crystalline red. As they rounded a particularly large stalagmite the red glow crept out to greet them. When the city came into full view the source of the light became clear: a fist sized ruby was set into the ceiling through which all of the main cavern’s light was filtered. The light came from a long shaft cut into the rock which opened out high above the clouds at the peak of the mountain.

The ruby lit an enormous hemispherical chamber. The cave was ribbed with landing—each cut into the rock face—accessible by ramps that threaded out of the chamber and back in at lower or higher levels. On each level there were varying sizes of caves hewn, some of which had small gardens of the ‘Goron special crop,’ a bulb-like plant aptly named the “bomb flower.” The single flower of the plant was connected to seeds within the bulb that would become volatile if disconnected from one another. The resulting chemical reaction gave one only a few seconds before the bulb exploded. The Gorons used these plants to speed their mining operations and were naturally kept only in small batches as a field of them would prove impractically hazardous.

Gor Daruni paused at the entrance to the main cavern, gazing at the ruby set in the ceiling high above them. “The Stone shines brightly today, doesn’t it, Darmon?” he said.

“Yes, very bright brother,” Darmon replied, admiring the ruby. Then he grew thoughtful. “Daruni?” he said. “It has been nearly ten years since I placed that gem. Do you suppose the prophecies will prove true soon?”

“I do not know brother,” replied the chieftain. “But Din will protect us when the time comes. We need not worry.” The report of distant explosions reverberated through the cavern. Daruni rolled his small eyes. “That will be Garnus being careless around my garden again.”

“Go easy on him, Daruni,” said Gor Darmon, grinning widely. “He only wants to be there when you arrive; to congratulate you.”

“I’ll gladly take third place myself if he can keep from setting off my flowers. It’s a good thing they grow back so quickly.” And with that Gor Daruni curled up and was rolling down from one landing to the next, passing curious Gorons who had come out to see what was happening. In moments Daruni was at the base of the chamber, entering the tunnel that led to his cave.

When the Goron chief had gone Darmon looked up to the shining ruby again. “Perhaps you are right, brother. May Din protect us.” As Darmon turned toward his cave, a younger Goron rolled up to him from one of the tunnels that led to the surface.

“Brother Darmon,” the young Goron said, unfolding, “there is a man outside waiting to see Gor Daruni. I didn’t let him in. He said the Dongo Caves have been blocked by boulders.”

Gor Darmon’s wide mouth hung open for a moment. The mines in the Dongo Caves were the Goron’s main source of food. They had stores of nutrient-rich minerals inside the Goron City but they would not be able to survive for long without access to caves.

“Who told you this?” asked Darmon.

The young Goron’s eyes widened meaningfully. “He says he is the Lord of the Gerudo.”

Hey all! I'm ready to post another chapter but I'd like to get some feedback about the ones I've put up so far. Thanks to all who have read (I see the numbers have been steadily increasing, which gladdens me!)

I'm interested in general reactions, comments about style, tone, or characterization as well as other likes and dislikes. A post of any length would be greatly appreciated!

WJC3--HoG

Interesting plot you have here, no one has tried to do this before so keep up the good work. As for feedback, I would advise you not to change a thing when it comes to the style of telling since it is in a stlye which allows the reader to feel as if they are actually there. Nothing else to say, except that you have really fleshed out your characters and given them distinct personalities, which adds to the story. Good luck and hope to see more soon.

Chapter V
DIPLOMACY AT THE WATERFALL

Far in the southwest of Hyrule lay the vast Lake Hylia, home to many varieties of fish, a prime place to observe aquatic life, and, far below the surface, the location of one of the six temples of Hyrule. This temple was arguably the most difficult to access, being entirely underwater. This posed no difficulty for the Zora, however, as the fishy race was as accustomed to life in the water as out of it. But the Zoras did not live in the great Hylian Lake. They lived as far away from their place of worship as any race in Hyrule could. For a Hylian the distance would mean an intensive pilgrimage, but for a Zora the trip to their domain in the far northeast of Hyrule would be an hour or two at a good swim. This was accounted for by their knowledge of all the subterranean waterways between the temple and the domain and an uncanny ability to swim against the current at great speed. It was said among the Hylians that currents simply didn’t exist for Zora folk; they could fly through the water like a bird through the air.

Following the maze of aquatic passages from the temple in Lake Hylia, a Zora could enter any river, access any stream, or swim in the moat of Hyrule Castle itself. Passing all of these, ascending the thick, rapid-flowing rivers, one would come to the mountainous region that the Zora people called home; a series of expansive watery caverns and mountain lakes, all connected by channels and tunnels, bounded by underwater gates.

There, from the gaping mouth of the large cavern at the height of Zora’s Domain, bubbled the waters of a lake-sized natural spring that spilled out in a mighty waterfall and passed through the many naturally-carved paths which were managed by the Zora people. The maintenance of these waterways determined whether Hyrule would receive clean water.

To the Zoras water not only sustained life, but served as their primary means of trade. The Zoras could not by any means stop the water from flowing, but as they lived in the water it was incumbent upon them to be certain that it remained pure, and this satisfied the needs of most of the other races in Hyrule. Their most beneficial pact had been made with the Hylians, with whom they had formed an alliance. The king of Hyrule offered to help the Zoras preserve their way of life and ensure that they remain relatively undisturbed. In return the Hylian kingdom was always provided with good clean water and the defensive benefit of a full moat.

The cavern at the height of Zora’s Domain served not only as the source of all of Hyrule’s water, but also as a meeting place for the Zora people and the throne room of their king. Steps led out of the water on all sides to a horseshoe-shaped walkway that circumvented the bubbling spring. Presently, a Zora sentry stood at the base of these steps, shifting impatiently before the king’s throne.

The king of the Zoras sat back in his coral chair, pensive. The bulk of his heavy body made him look like a reclining jellyfish, but his features more resembled those of a lobe-finned fish. Like all Zoras his skin was a pale blue and he had flippers for feet and webbed hands. In general, the Zora people never wore clothing, but had developed folds of scaly skin that sometimes resembled fabric. Overall they had a kind of androgynous beauty according to Hylian standards; though some Zora would have more fishy features. The king was one of the latter; small fishy eyes were set on either side of his head in true fish-fashion and cresting his head was a short fin-ridge that reddened at the edges.

“There is someone at the base of the waterfall, Sire,” repeated the Zora sentry, hoping the king would respond this time. The sentry tapped the butt of his bone spear on the steps nervously.

“Is it the Haired King?” the king of the Zoras finally inquired. The epithet was not derogatory; at least no more than it was for the Hylian King to say ‘the Scaled King.’

“No, Sire. He would not identify himself, but said that his message was urgent and that he preferred to deliver it and his introduction to you himself. Shall I admit him?”

“No,” said the Zora king, looking absentmindedly at the steps that led from his throne into the deep pool of water before him. “I will go out to him myself.”

The sentry raised his visor of his fishbone helmet to reveal an incredulous look. “But…but Sire you said…I can ask him to leave…we…he could come again when you are…more available,” the sentry stammered.

“Krelian, I have never been more available.” The king did not even smile.

A sick spot settled in the sentry’s stomach. He lowered the faceplate of his helmet. “But King Zora, your majesty…the diving contest…With all due respect, you could have one of the dukes…”

“I will go myself, thank you,” said the king, and he rose from his throne and slipped into the water as if he was taking a bath—cautiously, with feet first.

It had been some years since Delphineas Zora, king of the Zora people, had lost his wife. There was little known about the sad event except that Lutai, the sister of the Zora queen, had witnessed it but never spoke of the circumstances. Despite the king’s grief she would not utter a word on the matter, only that by speaking of it she would only put her people and family in yet more danger. The Zora people had shared in their ruler’s sadness and did all they could to alleviate the burden of arranging the affairs of the kingdom while the king and duchess were in mourning, the dukes and their advisors taking on much of the mercantile responsibility and caring for the waterways. The king did show some signs of improvement after the first year, although he had grown physically larger for lack of activity. He left most of the governing arrangements where they lay and soon he was viewed as more of a figurehead than a ruler. The people looked after themselves, mostly, and as King Zora had allied himself with the king of Hyrule many of the decisions regarding policy and procedure were simple enough to be handled in council with the Hylians.

Despite his acquired reputation for laziness King Zora’s people still loved him. His rare joy was being the mediator of the monthly diving contests (the latest of which had been due to start as soon as the king reached his seat beneath the waterfall) but he did little else recreationally. It was unusual that King Zora ever went swimming, except to keep himself damp, which was necessary for the Zora people, and this was why it was so shocking for the sentry to see him dip into the water as if he had done it just yesterday and volunteer to go out to meet a visiting dignitary over attending the diving competition which waited on his attendance.

King Zora swam remarkably well for a person who was both large and out of practice. While he appeared squat out of the water, he was graceful and respectable-looking in the water, the whole of him being regarded as a small agile whale of sorts. The king pulled his finned head under the surface and slipped through the water-bearing channel of his domain, his small fishy-eyes seeking the outlet of the giant waterfall from whence all of Hyrule’s water flowed. Just when he reached the edge of the waterfall, the current snatched him and threw him out into the air. The other Zoras looked up from the mountain-walled lake below and watched as their king hit the surface of the water with a massive splash. Then the king did something he had not done for years—he swam across the lake and out into the sluice that drained into the lower reservoirs; he was going outside the domain.

The king followed the water’s course under a natural bridge, surfacing near the middle of the reservoir and pushing his head silently above the surface. All around him were lush green mosses and grass covering the numerous shelves of rock protruding from the mountainside. The air was warm and the dragonflies were humming in the air. And standing upon the natural stone bridge spanning the sluice was a man clothed entirely in black, from his boots to his buckles. A long tattered cape made of faded cloth hung from his shoulders. His thick leather jerkin was covered in dust, making it appear not black, but a dull gritty brown. Ostensibly, the man may never have touched an ounce of water in his life, and this was not far from the truth. This was Ganondorf Dragmire, king of the enchanted thieves known as the Gerudo, a desert-dwelling people who had seen about as much usable water as males in their homeland. And though the Zora king had never met the man, he knew from his reputation that the king was vile and cruel. Nevertheless, the noble Zora wished to meet the Lord of the Gerudo personally, and he pulled himself out of the water and sat on the bank. Apparently hearing the water splash Ganondorf turned, flourishing his cape.

“Ah, the mighty king of the Zoras!” said Ganondorf, inclining his torso in a deep bow. “I am honored to find myself in your very presence. I had thought you might invite me in…You are well, I hope…?” The Zora king raised his ungainly bulk to a standing position and waddled up the slope of the bridge to where the king of thieves was. The fish-king said nothing as he approached, but he noticed that the desert-king’s red hair, which he could see very clearly (as it was pointed directly at him) was wild and littered with sand.

The Zora king took more than a moment to let the sight of Ganodorf sink in. If nothing else it made the red-haired man hold his penitent pose, and the Zora king was interested in seeing how long he would stay that way. Would he break silence or courtesy first? King Zora discovered shortly that it was silence, for Ganondorf repeated his question. “You are well,” he said, raising his head to look at the king, “I hope?” King Zora noticed that even the man’s eyes and the edges of his mouth were caked with dirt.

“No better off than you it must seem,” King Zora finally said, and sat down again on the bridge of rock. “You come all this way to the domain of water and yet you do not drink. Water flows all around you and yet you have not bathed.” The Zora king stared out into the clear blue waters of the reservoir. “Surely I cannot tell if he is a fool to whom I speak or a man too courteous to stay his thirst after a long journey. Come man, drink. At least wash your face and hands so you are something to look at.”

Ganondorf stood upright, straightening his dusty jerkin. He spoke with an air of devotion: “On the contrary, o’ king, it is neither foolishness nor courtesy that stays me from these waters, for when I set out from my desert country to visit the very king of the great water people I vowed I would not slake my thirst until I found myself in his company at the height of the great waterfall that crowns all of Hyrule!”

“Well, you certainly have one of the two Lord Ganondorf…”

“His esteemed majesty knows me before I introduce myself, may his scales never dim!” said the Gerudo Lord, bowing as well as he could to the sitting figure.

“At least you had the sense to raise yourself up again, Sir Dragmire, though as for knowing you before you introduced yourself, your villainous name and heartless reputation would precede you anywhere…” Ganondorf looked as if he did not know whether to take this as a compliment. The Zora king went back to watching the water. “And if you had delayed much longer to introduce yourself I might have thought you were waiting for a moment to wish for my scales never to dim. But then, a man as cunning and cruel as the true Lord Ganondorf would have no need for such pleasantries to win influence.” The Zora king turned to look at his guest. “Did you have some object in coming to visit ‘the very king of the great water people’ or was this simply a social call?” asked King Zora pointedly.

It looked as if Ganondorf would have said something, if he did not just get a better idea. “His majesty has cut me to the quick…May I sit with you?”

“I have long since sat, sir. You may do as you please,” said the Zora king, unmoving.

Ganondorf gathered his cloth cape around him and sat beside the squat fish-king. “I had thought, dear king, that you had received word of my promise of fealty to the king of the Hylians; the ceremony is tomorrow. It has long been an age of enmity between our peoples and I have hoped to rectify the reputation that precedes me. To that end I have taken to visiting the nearby races to offer my good will to them. Was this not obvious to his majesty?”

“Not quite as obvious as the deliberateness of the dirt caked on your face and clothes, dear Lord Ganondorf. Perhaps you thought this king unfamiliar with the visual qualities of his own dried mud? We traffic more than water and fish here,” said King Zora, grasping one of Ganondorf’s wrists and turning the palm of his dirty hand face up. “If you will notice, there is a slight sheen to it; a pleasant refractive quality in the sediment, don’t you think?” Ganondorf brought his hand to his face as if he had never seen it before. “Very popular among the potters of the castle town in Hyrule,” King Zora continued. “I suspect you carried a bag of sand with you all the way from the desert as well so that you could encrust your hair with it prior to meeting me. What I cannot surmise is what the infamous Lord Ganondorf is doing on my doorstep, as the Hylians say, for I cannot believe it is simply to show me your ‘good will’.”

Gradually the desert king’s face became less and less readable until it was perfectly blank. Then he seemed to take on a guilty air, as a child who has been found out for a ruse he was playing at. Ganondorf removed a leather bag from his belt and opened it a little, dropping it on the mossy stone between them. It was filled with sand. “Alas, you have caught me. I simply wanted to make it evident that I was not tampering with the currency of your waterways, if you will forgive the pun.”

“Your wit is positively insurmountable, Lord Ganondorf, but as you have not addressed the fact that you were tampering with the sediment, if not the water, I shall not take the gesture as terribly sincere. Nevertheless, I would accept your good will, if that is what you claim to offer,” continued the Zora king, never permitting Ganondorf a word in response, “but I will only do so after I have attended our regular diving event. Before we enter my domain, however, I hope we can at least be more forthright with each other. If you will please disarm yourself…”

This time the Gerudo lord did not seem caught-in-the-act, but sincerely taken aback. Nevertheless, he reached behind him, under his cape, and removed a small dagger in a sinister-looking black leather sheath. Raising his hand to indicate he had something more, he stuffed his fingers into his boot and pulled out another blade, similar in appearance to the first, but longer. He raised them both in one fist so they could be easily seen and set them down beside the bag of sand with a look that said ‘ah, well.’ King Zora never flinched. After studying each other for a moment, Ganondorf waiting for some response of acceptation, King Zora quietly patient, Ganondorf stood. “Shall we?” Ganondorf asked.

“Certainly,” King Zora replied, and lifted his fishy bulk from the stone bridge. “Since you have declined to drink I suppose I will not need to offer again, but permit me while I dampen my fins,” and he leaned forward and fell into the reservoir with a large splash. Ganondorf looked after him to see where he went, but in moments the Zora had swum up the sluice against the current and was standing on the stone path on the other side of the bridge.

“Well, are you coming, Ganondorf, Lord of the Gerudo?”

The Desert Lord left behind his two blades and he and the Scaled King walked up the stone path that protruded from the stone face, never the one getting ahead of the other.

* * *

The waters gushing over the edge of the waterfall cascaded almost a hundred feet, dividing into countless smaller rivulets that slapped and splattered when they hit the surface of the lake below. The Zora on top of the waterfall stretched both arms out and flared his pectoral fins to show he was ready. When King Zora nodded, two stones hit each other with a crack and the diver leaped off the waterfall performing a complex twist of movements and passing through the sheet of water below with little more than a sloop! Then an air of expectancy permeated the mountain-walled enclosure and seconds later the diver emerged at the surface again holding up a large, clear purple stone. “Nine seconds!” came a shout from the base of the waterfall and the crowd of Zoras on the landings erupted in cheers and hollers. “Good show!” they called. “Hoorah, Gluto!”

“And how much was that one worth?” asked Ganondorf politely, sitting cross-legged beside King Zora near the base of the waterfall. It looked as if he loathed the liquid and had no interest in touching it. Conversely, King Zora’s flippers were swishing lazily in the water.

“Fifty points for the stone,” answered the fish-king, watching the contestant as he leaped out of the water, dolphin-like, “and fifty for making it in time. It is yet to be seen how much his form wins him.” Ganondorf appeared to listen with only mild interest. The diver took his purple stone to a stand where a slightly smaller orange stone and a larger red one were already placed. On either side were two other stands; one that held two red stones and an orange, and another with only two purples.

“That was the last of the purple stones,” the Zora king continued, “the only stones higher than that are the two oranges and the blue. As it stands the duchess will need a stone worth at least a hundred in order to win.” The thief-king was still listening, but he was no longer watching. “The oranges are 100 each, but both are already taken,” said King Zora, “and the blue is 200. So far none have been able to reach the blue in less than ten seconds in a contest, but I have seen Lutai do it in twelve while she practices. Look, here she comes.” But Ganondorf did not notice. He was peering into the depths of the lake, searching for something.

Atop the waterfall, from behind a curtain of coral-colored weeds stepped a lithe, athletic female Zora. She made the indication that she was ready, the stones cracked, and she jumped. She twisted and flipped and her arm-fins were out, then in, then sloop! and everybody waited. Four seconds. Eight. Then just as it seemed she wouldn’t make the surface in time she leaped straight up out of the water and the cry came “ten seconds!” For a moment the voice of the crowd seemed stopped in their throats as they looked for the color of the stone amid the thrashing water. Then somebody shouted “it’s blue!” The Zoras whooped and cheered and clapped and Ganondorf looked intently at the diver as her webbed hands disclosed a shining clear blue stone, the smallest of all.

“Hah! Bravo, bravo,” the Zora king cheered, clapping. He noticed the way Ganondorf was staring, but quickly pretended not to. “Would you like to meet our winner, Ganondorf?”

“Why, meet the winner?” said Ganondorf, smiling wickedly at the sight of the stone. “I’d be delighted.”

King Zora called Lutai over to the ledge. She quickly dove under the surface and leaped out of the water, rolling onto the green moss-covered ledge and then springing to her feet. Ganondorf noticed that she was still holding the blue stone. Now that the desert king could see her better he noticed that high on her fishy head was a pair of false eyes, and she had fins growing from her shoulders, elbows and knees.

“Ganondorf Dragmire, may I present my wife’s sister, Lutai, duchess of the Zora. Lutai, I met Lord Dragmire without the waterfall this morning.” Lutai gave her king a furtive glance before putting one foot forward and tipping her head, splaying her fins and webbed hands, as per the Zora’s manner of greeting a guest respectfully while standing.

Ganondorf stood and cast aside his cape in one motion. “Enchanted. Congratulations, my lady,” he said, bowing. “I wonder…may I see the winning stone?”

Lutai looked to her king. He smiled knowingly. “I have not won formally, yet, Lord Dragmire,” said Lutai kindly, handing the desert-king the clear blue stone. “The judges have yet to announce the points awarded on my form.”

“Nonsense, Lutai. Your form was impeccable as usual,” said the Zora King, his flippers splishing in the water.

Ganondorf turned the egg-sized blue stone over in his hands. Other than being of particularly good cut it was not remarkable. “Tell me, Lutai, is this the Zora’s Sapphire?” he asked. A shock of electricity seemed to pass between King Zora and Lutai.

Lutai did not need a cue from her king this time. “The Zora’s Sapphire? You must be knowledgeable indeed to know of that sacred stone.” It was obvious she was avoiding his question. King Zora thought he saw Ganondorf trembling for a moment, gripping the blue stone in his hands a little tighter, but when the desert-king spoke there was no sign of terseness in his voice.

“Ah, yes, I have learned much from the king of these blessed lands,” Ganondorf replied, glancing around at the lake and its mountain walls. Then he looked directly at King Zora, smiling with all of his teeth. “His majesty, the king of Hyrule tells me many things regarding the affairs of the water people.”

This sobered the Zora king. Lutai’s posture stiffened. “And what, pray, does our esteemed ally relate regarding our people?” she asked.

“Oh,” Ganondorf began, mocking pity, “he spoke of the unfortunate state of your patron deity, the Great Fish Jabun. I hear the creature is a little…green around the gills, shall we say?”

The fish-king responded to the word ‘creature’ with the Zora approximation of a frown. “No, Ganondorf, you must be mistaken. Jabun the Wise is quite well. My daughter Ruto related nothing out of the ordinary when she returned from his alcove this morning. She attends him regularly to leave offerings and would have told me if he were ailing in any way.”

Ganondorf noticed Lutai folding her hands behind her back, her elbow fins bending slowly toward her hands. He could see they had keen edges like the blade of a sword and tips sharp like daggers; they would be dangerous if she was angered any further. But he pretended not to notice.

“Does she now?” Ganondorf said. “I see. In any case it may also interest you to know that the King of Hyrule has asked that I request the Sapphire of you to present to him tomorrow when I swear my fealty.”

“And why would the king of Hyrule have you bear the Sacred Stone of the Zoras away from its rightful land?” asked the Zora king.

“Consider it a sign that you have accepted my good will, o’ mighty King Zora,” Ganondorf responded, bowing shortly.

“I have accepted nothing of the sort, and you have offered less, Lord Dragmire. Furthermore, it is not in keeping with courtesy to call the deity of the water people a ‘creature’. If you will please return the stone you took you may leave here empty-handed or you will be driven away by force,” King Zora said calmly holding out his webbed hand for the stone.

“But I gave it back to you, o’ king,” said Ganondorf, drawing his cape around himself, concealing the leather pouch he had at his waist.

“Did you? I do not seem to remember that,” answered the king. “If I had it then I would not find it in that leather bag you have at your waist, would I?”

“Why no, good king,” replied Ganondorf. Pulling the pouch from his belt, he opened it and reached inside. Withdrawing his hand, he waved casually, throwing small granules out into the water. “It is but sand,” he said. And surely the grains still sifted from between his fingers.

“Curious,” said King Zora. “You live in a desert and yet carry not water with you but bags and bags of sand…if it is what you say, that is, and not some sorcery…”

“What accusations, good king! First I made to believe that I am welcome and then that I am not and all the while charged with bringing sorcery past your borders. Even if it were sorcery, I have shown that I do not retain your stone,” said Ganondorf decisively, brushing the remaining debris from his palms. “Unless you aim to search me without warrant; I am certain the king of Hyrule shall be keen to know how his sworn subjects are treated within the borders of Zora’s Domain.”

“You are not King Hyrule’s subject any more than you have reason to remain here,” said the Zora king. “Go now or be driven from this place.”

Suddenly Ganondorf became aware that a score of sentries stood poised on a dozen landings above and around him, their white bone javelins ready. He wisely did not doubt their accuracy, but backed away from the king with hands out at his sides.

“Very well,” he conceded with a scowl. “I suppose I have somewhat to tell the king of Hyrule concerning the hospitality of the fish people; as cold as they are wet. Do call for me if anything should happen to your fish-god, Jabun. It would be a shame if he were to accidentally swallow his attendant…” Ganondorf’s sinister mouth curled at the edges.

Lutai noticed that her king was shaking slightly. “Leave. Now,” the fish-king repeated. The Gerudo lord turned with a sweep of his cape and walked away from Zora’s domain. Never did he turn until he was gone from the place and only then did Lutai relax her fins.

“Lutai,” said the king, “summon Gor Darmon. Have him block the ground entrances to the Domain.”

“At once,” she replied, and in moments she was passing through a tunnel opening at the bottom of the lake.

“Krelian!” the king called. There was a splash and in another moment the Zora guard had jumped out of the lake, dolphin-like, at the king’s side. “Release the octoroks and post your sentries at every entrance to the lake,” commanded the king. “None may enter unless they can prove they are sent from the Hylian royal family.”

“It shall be done, Sire,” said Krelian, and he turned to the nearest sentry, clapping his pectoral flippers to his sides. The sentry jumped to action, shouting orders to the remaining Zora guards.

After a pause Krelian turned to the Zora king. “With your permission, Sire?”

“Yes, Krelian?”

“Why did you decide to leave the domain today?”

“It was good for me…” the king replied.

“Yes, your majesty—but why today?”

The Zora king sighed. “We can only mourn for so long, Krelian. I have mourned for years and I have grown lazy. My heart had grown cold…it was time for me to shake off the ice and wake up.” Krelian pondered this while he watched the other sentries taking up their positions. Then the king spoke again. “What the Gerudo man said about Jabun made me burn inside, Krelian. What he said about Ruto… I do not know what I would do if I were confronted with a man who I knew had hurt my dear ones… If he does anything to my daughter…”

“We will be here, Sire. We will not let any harm come to her.”

“Thank you, Krelian. I am sincerely grateful for your loyalty. I certainly do not deserve it.”

“No more than any of us deserve loyalty, Sire. But we give it to you, and we give it freely. You are our king.” And for the first time in years, Delphineas Zora felt like a king again.

* * *

“He took the stone!?” bellowed Gor Darmon, pausing in his hurried waddle. His rough voice grumbled through the cavern.

“It was just the diving stone from the contest, Darmon!” said Lutai, patting his huge stony arm. “You know I would not let him take the Sapphire.”

“Does he know it is not the Sapphire?” he asked, relieved. He began waddling again toward the cave exit. Lutai followed, easily keeping pace.

“I do not know. It was a battle of wits, Darmon; it was difficult enough to get him out of the domain without commiting a treaty-shattering political faux-pas.”

It was inconvenient for the Zora and the Goron to travel together. Lutai could not run as fast as Gor Darmon could roll, yet he could not walk as fast as she could run. Haste demanded the beleaguered walk, however, if they wished to talk while they traveled.

They came to a steep rocky ledge that would have brought progress to a halt for a Zora. “The Desert Man was not so eloquent when he came to us,” said Gor Darmon as he gripped the ledge with his gnarled fingers. “On my back,” said Darmon and Lutai obeyed, wrapping her finned arms around his neck.

“He came to the caverns, too?” asked Lutai, her face to one side of the Goron’s stony round head as he climbed.

“Yes. He said the mines were blocked by boulders. Said he could clear them out for us. Wanted the Ruby as payment.”

“Darmon, you didn’t…?”

“No. Gor Daruni told him to soak himself in the crater. So he left.” They reached the top of the ledge.

“Couldn’t you clear the boulders away?” asked Lutai, dismounting.

“All the bomb flowers we have prepard have spoiled for some reason. And it would take too long to harvest more,” said Darmon, waddling again. “It’s a delicate process.”

“I’m sure. And the ones you have inside the city would detonate by the time you got them outside,” she concluded. “Oh, Darmon, I’m so sorry…”

“There is a small batch of wild bomb flowers up the side of the mountain, but only a man-child would be able to reach them.”

Lutai shook her fishy head forlornly. “And no child would have the strength to disconnect them,” she reasoned, dodging a low-hanging stalagtite. The light in the tunnel was changing from a dull red to a thin white; the outside was just around another bend. “Darmon, these events; the bomb flowers, the blocked cave entrance—threatening Jabun and Princess Ruto—this man has orchestrated these ruses to get at the Spiritual Stones.”

“Exactly.” Darmon let out a long, dispassionate sigh. “In the meantime we haven’t got enough minerals stored up to feed us all while we excavate. Daruni’s already sent most of the brothers away to find their own food. Once I block up your paths I’ll have to stay in the temple under the crater to survive. There are some stores there for emergencies and I’ll have the Ruby with me. Daruni’s shut himself in his chambers; he’s contacting the king now to see if they can help. Meantime the brothers who stayed will be clearing the rubble.” They had reached the cave opening.

“I am sorry it is so inconvenient for you, Darmon.” Lutai said patting his enormous rocky fist with her webbed hand. “It’s a shame you can’t take the water passage back to the domain. We are very grateful. Please, take whatever rock you don’t use, if it’s any good.”

“Thank you, Lutai,” Darmon said in his gravelly voice, “but I am quite content with what I have in the temple.” What he could have said was that the Zora’s water was sweet but their rocks were all sour. “It is a shame the Ruby is so precious…” he said with a hungry gleam in his eye.

“I’m sure it would taste wonderful,” said Lutai, grimacing.

Darmon shrugged and grew sober again. “Have you spoken to the Koroki? The Desert Man will surely try for the Emerald if he has not already. You can take the forest-passage just short of the ledge back there.”

“I will see them on my way back,” said Lutai. “Thank you again, friend.” And with a final nod the giant stone man curled up and rolled away down the mountain. When he was out of sight Lutai turned and sprinted back toward the forest-passage. Before she reached it, however, she felt a vibration at her neck.

Touching the gray stone that hung there she heard a voice in her mind. It was Aako; the young boy’s thoughts were full of sorrow and he said only one word: Dying.

* * *

Impa watched her charge stand on tiptoe to look into the window of the Grand Hall. The flowers in the gardens were blooming, their heads poised; still, as if listening for something to happen. Then, without announcement, a young green-clad boy entered the gardens opposite where the princess stood. Around the head of the boy floated a glowing ball of blue light with wings like a dragonfly. Zelda turned away from the window and noticed the forest-child. She gasped. Her dreams were becoming real.

[End of Episode I ~ The Looming Shadow. Check back for the prologue of Episode II ~ The Lengthening Shadow, coming soon!]

WJC3--HoG

Thanks Master X! I'm heartened to know that you see my approach as unique. Regarding style I have discovered slowly that I have what is called "Third-person omniscient" perspective which allows the reader to 'see' into the minds of each of the relevant characters. I feel that this is what lets the characters become so deep. Thanks for bringing that out for me.

Incidentally, are there any characterizations that don't describe the way you see the character?

Plenty more to share; on with the tale. In the mean, keep the comments flowing; what works, what doesn't, etc. Enjoy!

WJC3--HoG

Prologue
TALES OF FUTURE PAST, 1391 HR

Link leaned on the Master Sword like a cane. His heart pulsed through every portion of his body, though his limbs were numb with adrenaline. As he panted and heaved through rattling lungs, he coughed and spat. He shook his arms to return the feeling to them. The shield of the Hylian Royal Guard had long since grown heavy on his right arm. The battle had been long, but it was not over; he would need to weaken his foe only a little more. Most importantly, he had just recovered the Blade of Evil’s Bane from the ground. It was the only weapon that could harm the crazed King of Evil. Presently, a young woman’s voice brought him out of his repose:

“Link, you can’t just stand there, he is prone! Finish it!” Zelda bellowed from behind a wall of flame. “Why aren’t you using the arrows I gave you?”

“Excuse me, Princess! I’d like to see how you do on this side of the wall of fire…” But Link had little time to argue. He leapt to the side, a hairy black fist the size of a crate pummeling the ground where he had stood moments before. Thrashing menacingly before him was the very King of Evil; Ganon. Link’s enemy was a thirty-foot tall half-human porcine monster bearing down on him with a pair of swords as long as lumber saws. Zelda, Link and Ganon stood amidst the ruins of Ganon’s tower, a pile of rubble strewn across a mass of earth hovering half a mile over a volcanic crater that had once been the fair castle of Hyrule. The darkness surrounding the three of them was unnatural and fraught with turmoil. And all the time the monster before him loomed more threatening.

Link backed away and circled his opponent until he was close enough to the princess for her to hear. “As I was saying,” Link hollered over the roar of the fire, “I don’t see you in any mortal peril!” The heat drew long lines of sweat over Link’s face. As Link blinked through the salt in his eyes, Ganon’s massive fist pounded the ground with a crunch that threatened to split their floating island in two, hurling both Link and Zelda off their feet.

“Yes,” Zelda replied, pulling herself away from the edge of the floating island, nearly escaping an end in the pool of lava below. “I’m fine. If you like, I could just wait for you down there in that pit of molten rock!”

“Whatever suits you, Princess,” said Link, raising himself up again. He sheathed his sword and quickly drew his bow, nocking an arrow and pulling the fletched end to his ear. Extending the jeweled ring on the first finger of his hand he touched the arrow’s tip and it glowed brightly, casting a warm yellow radiance on his weary face. Then he aimed and loosed the arrow of light at his quarry. Only just in time Ganon deflected the arrow with his gargantuan sword, but the light leaped out of the arrow like a sunburst and Ganon staggered back, blinded. Link quickly fired another shaft of light and this time it sunk into the beast’s arm, flashing out with thin tentacles of searing light that wrapped around Ganon and restricted his movements.

“I’ll be right back,” said Link, and he dove under the legs of the gargantuan pig. Rolling into the movement, he emerged standing before his enemy’s writhing tail. With a swipe of the Master Sword he disabled Ganon’s left hamstring and the King of Evil released a bellow that caused Zelda to clasp her hands to her pointed ears. The beast fell to one knee with a crash, causing the remains of a ruinous rock wall to crumble. Ganon faltered, and then collapsed altogether, his huge form spread-eagle on the rubble.

“Finish it, the Sages are ready!” Zelda hollered.

And with a battle-cry rattling from his lungs, Link scaled the mountainous backside of the beast and traversed his way over the large corded knots of back muscle. He leaned forward and fell onto the monster’s neck, sinking the Master Sword in hilt-deep. The monster squealed and its muscles convulsed and went limp. And as the creature’s life ebbed, the flames hedging the floating island dissipated. In moments, all was still and the only sound was the churning of the lava far below.

Then the muscled mountain reared. Link would have been thrown off, but he held fast to the handle of the Master Sword, refusing to let go. Despite the superior grip of the shining gold-plated gauntlets he wore, the beast would not bear him, and the sword slid clean out of its neck, throwing Link to the ground from the height of four men. Link’s body rebounded and his eyes went dark as his head and back struck something hard. He lay stunned, the wind knocked from him, the Master Sword loose in his grip.

The King of Evil clutched his neck and his breath gurgled in his throat as he heaved himself up to an unbalanced crouch. Then, step by strained step, Ganon pulled his massive body across the rubble to where Link lay prone and unconscious.

“No!” Zelda screamed. She rushed forward, planting her feet on the uneven broken rock. “You will not have him!” And suddenly, as if the sun had broken through the unnatural night and shone only on her, Zelda’s whole body began to glow with a golden light. Ganon stopped, his beady pig-eyes squinting. The next moment Zelda moved as if she was attempting to topple a large stone pillar and the light surrounding her solidified in a column that shot from her hands, long and brilliant in the darkness. The column of radiance ploughed directly into Ganon’s chest, flinging him into one of the only remaining stone walls. The ground reverberated from the impact and the King of Evil lay still as air bubbled from his neck.

The princess glared at the fallen Demon King, a picture of spiteful elegance, nearly as fearsome as the beast. Then she turned; Link stirred and his sword rang as he dragged it over the gravel. In a moment Zelda was at his side, cradling his head in her arms. “You’re okay,” she cooed, “you’re fine.”

Link gritted his teeth. “Relative term, Princess,” he murmured. The rock covering Ganon’s body shifted, and he began to rise from the rubble. Link cleared his throat. “Whenever you feel like it,” he said, his eyes still closed.

Remembering their foe, Zelda gently lowered Link’s head and gripped a gray stone amulet hanging from her neck. Sages, she thought, banish him now! Open the door to the Golden Land and seal him in! All at once the air became thick with threads of multi-colored light weaving in and out of each other. These threads knotted together under Ganon’s feet and the mass churned like a shining octopus, illuminating the beast from below. Then a rift appeared in the rock and the tentacles lashed out, wrapping around Ganon’s legs and neck, pinning his arms to his sides. Squelching gasps eked from Ganon’s lungs as the net of light drew him down, down into the rift ever widening below him. The Evil King grappled with the Sage-lights, tearing them away and in moments he had worked an arm free. Sunk waist deep in the rift, Ganon slammed one massive hand down just short of where Zelda stood, black claws gripping the stone at her feet. Then Ganon opened his tusked maw and spoke in a harsh, rattling bellow:

“Curse you Sages. Curse you, Zelda! Curse you, foolish boy!!” Zelda gasped; Ganon began pulling himself out of the rift. He was gaining ground and in moments he would have another arm free. The Sages cords of light were straining against their captive; they were not powerful enough. “So long as I have the Triforce of Power,” growled Ganon, “I will exterminate you! I will not rest until I have eliminated every one of your children, and their children…” Then Ganon’s other arm was loose and he raised it over his head…

But then Link rose up with the Master Sword and charged, throat grating with an indignant battle cry, plunging the blade deep into the pig’s snout. Ganon recoiled from the sting of the Blade of Evil’s Bane and shrieked aloud, throwing his hands high into the air, looking like nothing more than a thrashing, wounded animal. The tentacles of colored light seized him again and overcame the beast’s strength, now burying the Evil King neck deep, now to the tips of the great horns cresting his head. The portal to the Golden Land consumed the King of Evil, leaving shimmering yellow energy bubbling and crackling in the unnatural darkness. In moments the rift of light dissipated, and it was as if neither it nor Ganon had ever existed, where both had raged only seconds before. Now only dim redness glowed under the floating island.

Link let the Hylian shield slide from his right arm. Zelda’s eyelids grew heavy, and she faltered. But Link was there with an arm around her waist, and they leaned against each other in the red-lit night.

* * *

“Link, you have to go home, now,” Zelda said. The space around them was brilliant white, only just accented by thin wisps of blue fog. Under their feet was a pool of water that extended endlessly out into the fog. “I have to send you back,” Zelda repeated.

It may have been a dream for how she looked, but Link knew that it was certainly Zelda. They both appeared as if they had not just been in a battle. Link was wearing his green tunic, trousers and boots, but they were all clean, and his blonde hair was well combed within his long green cap. Zelda wore the gown of her station; the white dress covered by a long purple vest and the long apron with the royal crest that hung from her waist. She was certainly beautiful when she was clean, he thought.

“Link!” Zelda said, becoming impatient.

“Sorry, I got distracted. What?” he said.

“Link, I have to send you home, now,” Zelda said. She looked at her hands. “Give me the Ocarina.”

“Why?”

“Because, Link, you don’t belong here,” she said, her voice buckling. “I never should have asked you to do this, any of it. You missed seven years…”

Link couldn’t believe what she was saying. “And you waited,” he rebutted. “You brought me here, and now after seven years of playing at being a Sheikah just so you could avoid that spawn of Gerudo filth, you showed yourself for who you were and got caught…and who came and saved you? And helped you banish him? And now you want to send me back!?”

Zelda cleared her throat and a streak of wetness lined her face. She looked away into the white as if she wanted to banish some enemy she still saw there. “Link, give me the Ocarina,” she said before looking at him again.

Link’s hands clenched the air as he resisted the temptation to throw the precious instrument. He looked away, his jaw set. When he looked back Zelda was staring at him with folded arms. Link’s head bobbed in begrudging futility. “Fine,” he said, and reached into the medium sized pouch at his side to draw out the Ocarina. It was a hollow, smooth lump of blue clay the size of a large potato. On its protruding neck it bore the insignia of the Triforce, three triangles arranged to form a larger triangle. Zelda had given him the instrument seven years before when she fled from Ganon’s first attempt on her life.

By entrusting the Object to him, she had allowed Link entrance into the Sanctuary where the Master Sword had stood, waiting for the Hero to draw it. When he did so he also inadvertently permitted Ganon entrance to the Golden Land where he seized the Triforce and made his evil wish, throwing the land of Hyrule into darkness under his reign. But after Link had grown old enough and strong enough to bring the Master Sword to bear against Hyrule’s foes he had sought the evil that plagued the land. He had faced all manner of strange creatures—demons and dragons alike, nearly perished from heat exhaustion in the belly of Death Mountain, avoided drowning at the bottom of Lake Hylia, and now that it was all over she just wanted to send him back? Link held the Ocarina in front of him. “Just tell me this,” he said. “If you don’t want me here, why did you ever even give this to me? You didn’t seem to think it was what Rauru wanted…”

Zelda looked as if she had been stabbed. Her mouth curled downward in a frown that disgraced her clear face, her small mouth contorting. Her eyes searched Link’s expression for some hint of sorrow, but when she found nothing she looked at her hands again. Her eyes clenched shut, squeezing out tears. “I…I have regretted that decision for seven years,” she said between gasps. “I thought it was the only way; it was our only chance. I thought…I thought you were the greatest chance Hyrule had for survival. We needed you. I…” but she broke off as another trail of wetness streaked her face. She suddenly gulped for air and quickly pressed the fingers of one thin, gloved hand to her mouth. Then, unable to compose herself, she wept openly into her open hands.

Link felt as if his chest had been yanked into his stomach. The Ocarina was lead in his hands. He cast his mind about for what he might do, but all he could think of was to put his arm around her, and then they were in each other’s embrace and his head was bowed; his jaw nestled on her shoulder. He could feel her body shaking, her lungs gulping unevenly for air. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I…I’ll go. Please.” He lowered his hands to her waist and her chest pulled away from his. “Take it,” he said, offering her the Ocarina. “I’m sorry.”

She looked at the instrument and placed one thin hand over it. She lifted the Ocarina to her chest and pressed it there, raising her eyes to see directly into his.

“Link,” she said, purposefully, “I can send you back so that no time will have been lost. You can make of your childhood whatever you will.” Then she looked at him intently. “Whatever you will.” And she kissed him lightly on his cheek. She lingered there a moment and whispered, “Goodbye Link, Hero of Time.”

Link could not feel anything but his feet tingling in his boots and his head buzzing in his cap. Then, before he realized what was happening, he heard her playing a familiar melody with solemn, breathy alto notes, and the fog advanced to envelop him. Her blue eyes were the last thing he saw before he passed out of that world.

Chapter I
WARNING FROM THE FUTURE, 1384 HR

As the fog cleared from his mind, Link realized that he was lying on a well manicured patch of soft, damp grass. He was looking up into the sky, wispy clouds of white streaking across a patch of blue. He sat up within the stone-walled circular garden, and immediately he saw her. It was Zelda—but something was different.

She was a child.

And so was he. He looked at his hands, felt his belly, reached for the toes of his small leather boots, and everything about his body felt shorter and chubbier; his legs and arms, his face; everything. He had gone back in time—but how far back? He stood up as quietly as he could.

How had he ended up in the garden? When he had gone back in time before, it was by means of the Master Sword. And it was exact; if he placed the sword in the pedestal in the Sanctuary of the Temple of Time, his spirit would be drawn back to his body seven years previous, even down to the time of day. Drawing it again would reverse the process, but all the while time flowed, as it always did.

But this was not the same. It was night when he had defeated Ganon, but now it was midday. And he had never traveled through time anywhere other than the Temple Sanctuary. He supposed the circular garden just outside the castle’s Grand Hall matched the spot where he and Zelda lay after they vanquished Ganon. Zelda must have used a different kind of magic to send him back. Maybe that was why she needed the ocarina.

He stared at the younger Zelda, her back turned. She must have been about ten years old. It was almost as if he could see how her childishness would become womanhood, and time suddenly shrank for him; compressed. He retained seventeen years of memories in a ten-year old body. What was it Zelda had said about making his childhood anything he wanted…?

He immediately looked up at the sky again, checking the position of the sun. Where was Impa? Would he still have time to warn them about Ganon? He didn’t even know whether his other self and Zelda had met yet. He would have to act like it was the first time unless she gave some sign that it wasn’t. He would have to be careful. Rauru had told him about time travel before, and so he knew what would happen if he changed too much.

Link walked toward the young Zelda with a casual swagger and remembered just in time that he didn’t swagger when he was ten. How did he act? It didn’t matter now; she had turned and was staring at him, one hand on the ledge of the window she had just been peeking into. He froze, unsure of what to say.

Her light brown eyebrows came together. It startled him how very young she was. “Didn’t Impa just lead you out? Have you lost your way, forest-boy?” she asked, amused. Link searched seven years into his memory. His younger self must have just left with Impa, Zelda’s nursemaid, who would be pointing him eastward toward Impa’s village, Kakariko. Once Link’s other self got there, he would be gathering more information and eventually head toward Death Mountain to talk to the Gorons about the Ruby they had. That meant his other self would be occupied for awhile.

Zelda laughed when Link did not answer. “Have you lost something? Like your voice?” she said.

Taking the cue, Link answered, trying to sound as boyish as possible. “Yeah. I lost…forgot the song Impa taught me.” He didn’t know how soon to tell her he was from the future.

“Well she hasn’t come back yet, and if the guards see you when you leave, Daddy will have a fit. Better wait with me until she comes back.” Even as a child, Zelda was still very wise. Link realized he had never noticed this about her until he was older.

“Okay,” he said. He shuffled his feet in the grass. That felt right; he remembered he had always done that, ever since he was a kid. Then Link noticed Zelda looking past him, and he turned. Impa had just entered the circular garden through the main stone archway. And she wore a look that wasn’t quite puzzled—but treacherous.

“How did you get back in?” she asked firmly, and in a moment she was halfway across the garden. Link noticed she had her hand behind her back, where she kept her dagger safely hidden in her girdle, he recalled. Out of reflex he would have pulled his Koroki sword from its sheath on his back, but he suddenly realized it was no longer there. Neither was his shield. And where was Navi? He had been sent back with none of his items; only his green cap, his oversized green tunic, belted up, and his pair of leather boots. He was defenseless. Link showed Impa his naked palms.

“Impa, what’s wrong?” said Zelda, visibly unsettled by Impa’s terseness. Impa had been very kind to Link, why would she react like this?

“You know very well, Princess, that if he had come in past the guards it would have taken him an age. I returned immediately by the shortest passage under the castle, yet here he stands after I had just led him out by the longest. None know the passages under Hyrule Castle better than I, save someone who is not who they say they are.” She stared at Link as if she were attempting to see something under murky water. “Now are you or are you not the boy I just led out of this place?” her bare toned arms were tense, the muscles of the one behind her back strung tightly, like a bow. He would have to tell her something to throw her off.

“I need to speak to the Sages,” Link said. He didn’t know if there were Sages before the ones he had helped gather in the future. Still it got her arms to relax a little.

“What knowledge would you have of the Sages?” she asked, raising a thin eyebrow.

“You all are in danger,” he said. As Impa’s muscles tensed again, it was immediately apparent that he had said the wrong thing.

“Why would we be in danger?” Impa asked. Zelda was looking between the two of them so quickly she could have been watching a fight between two angry bees.

“I know the song you taught me, the one only members of the Royal Family knows!” he said, which set Zelda’s eyebrows together again.

“I thought you said you couldn’t remember it,” Zelda said. Impa was interested in this bit of news.

“I do not meet well with those who lie to members of the Royal Family,” Impa said through her teeth. “Either you will produce some evidence that you are not a servant of evil or I will dispatch you, do you understand?”

Link said everything that came to his mind: “You’re Impa, leader of the Sheikah, you have a knife behind your back that I really hope you won’t use to kill me right now, and you don’t tell anyone about it, not even your closest allies, and you whistled me the song that you sing to Zelda as a lullaby because it was your role in Zelda’s dream to teach it to the boy who came out of the forest, which is me! I’m me!” Impa was taken aback at the flood of confidential information he had just confessed. Still, she seemed skeptical.

“Play the song,” Impa demanded.

“I haven’t got my ocarina,” he admitted truthfully.

“Then whistle it,” she said, her voice hardening.

“I can’t whistle…” he said feebly.

“Then hum!” she snapped, and he knew she was not to be crossed again. He searched his frantic mind for the tune and began to hum. At first it sounded nothing like what it should have been, and for a moment he thought he saw Impa’s arm move, but he closed his eyes, and focused on the melody. And as he began to hum it correctly, the effect of the song seemed to wash over him, calming him, and he opened his mouth to sing it. He had never tried to sing the tune before, but now that he did he was filled with it. Truly it was as Impa had told him years ago (or what seemed to him to be years ago); there was a mysterious power in the song. When he opened his eyes she had relaxed. Her eyes were searching him as if the answers to her questions were somewhere under his tunic.

“How did you return so quickly?” she asked him.

Link lowered his hands. “I have a lot to explain.”

* * *

Impa kneeled next to Link just outside the large double-doors leading into the Grand Hall. “Remember,” she advised, pulling his tunic straight, “they will be expecting you. Do not show fear, and do not lie. If you do, they will know.”

“But how…” Link began.

“It is of no consequence. Be truthful and you shall have nothing to fear. Now go. I will return to my duties attending the Princess. If you have need of me, ask any of the guards. I will notify the lieutenant of your presence…They will not throw you out,” she added when his eyes widened. Then Impa stood and left the way they had come, through the halls of the castle.

Any other child Link’s age would have felt vulnerable. No adults to rely on, no way to fight back or escape if something were to happen. But something told Link—as it often did—that things would work out alright, and he pressed forward, leaning into one of the heavy doors. When it opened wide enough Link walked through into the Grand Hall.

The smooth cool tile of the floor reached out in all directions. A clerestory brightened the space between the scrolled capitals of the massive fluted columns and the vaulted ceiling. A narrow blue carpet ran the length of the hall and drew Link’s attention to the far end where two tiers of wide, shallow steps lead up to a long dais that stretched the length of a semicircular apse. Three massive stone chairs on the dais formed a visual pyramid—the lower, smaller outer chairs deferring to the central throne.

From the top of the center throne stretched a colossal sculpture of three golden women. Each of the goddesses had a swirl of stone protruding from her mouth, signifying her influence upon Hyrule. Their gold-leafed bodies encircled a trio of triangles, arranged to form one larger triangle, which must have been extremely heavy as it appeared to be made of solid gold. Link became aware that two soldiers flanked the doors, and two more stood at attention on either side of the wide stone steps leading up to the dais. They were so still he had almost not noticed them; like sculptures meant to complement the Golden Goddesses. Link proceeded through the space feeling very small, especially after being thrust back into a body that was seven years younger than he had become accustomed to.

Seated before the three stone thrones on the dais— in three wooden chairs of equal height—were the King and Queen of Hyrule and the Captain of the Royal Guard, the last of which nodded at Link firmly. Link regarded the man with an uncertain smile and a curt nod. The captain wore a white shirt and trousers, both trimmed in blue, over which was a light chain shirt. Over this was a long white tunic with the Royal Bird emblazoned in red. His belt was cinched over the tunic and at his side hung a rapier. As he considered the captain’s strong jaw and stubbled cheeks and chin Link decided there was something he liked about him; Link thought he had the look of a man who had seen many battles and had lost neither his compassion nor zeal. At the captain’s feet rested a shield that Link recognized; it bore a Triforce symbol and the Royal Bird. Before he had time to think much of it, however, the king spoke.

“Come.”

As he approached the dais Link noticed that the queen wore the same dress that Zelda had worn—or would wear—when she was older; white with a purple vest, and adorned with gold metalwork on her head and around her waist. Her apron bore the royal family’s symbol. The king was clothed in a large red velvet overcoat with a blue pocketed jacket underneath. He wore light gray leggings and soft-leather shoes with blunt toes that pointed upward. He too was adorned with gold-work upon his head, and he wore a gold buckle bearing the Triforce emblem on his cloth belt.

The queen spoke in a voice that was smooth and welcoming: “Hello, child. We are the ruling power of Hyrule. We understand there is something you wish to tell us. What concerns you?”

For a moment Link wondered if he should bow, and then realized that he had never properly met the royalty of Hyrule before. He fumbled with his empty hands. He had met Zelda when she was young; twice now, in fact, but those meetings had hardly been formal. Link had met Zelda multiple times as an adult as well, counting the times when she was in disguise and again when she revealed herself for who she was. But he had never met the king; only seen him vaguely at the garden window. For that matter, he could not remember ever learning what happened to either of Zelda’s parents, after they survived the war. All he knew was that Zelda lived with Impa in Kakariko in the future… Why didn’t she live with her parents, he wondered. Or did they not survive Ganon’s invasion from the Golden Land…?

“Oh, um… yeah,” said Link, recalling that they were awaiting his response. But as he stared at Zelda’s mother Link thought she looked so much like her daughter that he had difficulty telling himself the queen wasn’t really Zelda. The queen was like a more contemplative, less distraught, slightly older version of Zelda. Link had the feeling that if Zelda had not been through so much—what with going into hiding for seven years, training to survive in combat, and seeing her family and kingdom fall apart before her eyes—she might have been sitting in front of him at that very moment. Then Link’s eyebrows scrunched up as he considered the captain. Was he royalty, too?

The queen must have seen the question on Link’s young boyish face, for she asked: “Do you wonder why a knight is seated on the same platform as the king and queen, young one?” Link was surprised at the level of confidence in her voice. It was as if she could read his thoughts.

“Yes, ma’am,” Link replied meekly. He realized that he also didn’t know how to refer to royalty, so he offered a short bow just in case. The queen glanced at her husband, who nodded, smiling pleasantly, before she turned and addressed Link:

“Colin is our Captain of the Royal Guard. He is Head of the Order of Courage and my protector.”

Link nodded at the captain. “Howdy,” he said, uncertainly. “I’m Link…of the Koroki.” He felt that his introduction was far too short compared to the captain’s. Colin did not seem to mind, however; he winked with a green eye and let a smile creep across one of his stubbled cheeks.

The queen continued: “My husband, the King of the Hylian people, is Head of the Order of Power, and I am Head of the Order of Wisdom. Together we organize the affairs of the kingdom after our respective orders and counsel one with another concerning actions that must be made, judgments that must be passed, and endeavors which must be undertaken.”

Link’s mouth hung open. All he had ever known was living as he pleased in the forest with his friends, the Koroki children. But that had been some time ago, to him. Lately, at least before Zelda had sent him back in time, his had been a nomadic life with very little order or organization. “You do all of that yourself?” he asked.

“No,” the king replied, “the captain has his knights, I have advisors who counsel with me, and my wife has Sheiks as her attendants. But that is neither here nor there, son. What would you have us know?”

Suddenly, Link remembered the urgency of his errand. All of this was still very new to him. It was like getting to know relatives you never knew you had. But that would have to wait. “I have a message from Zelda,” he said.

“The princess?” the captain asked, looking as if he did not expect this.

“Yes.” Link looked at each of the Heads of Order expecting them to understand what that meant.

The king looked at his wife suspiciously. In a low voice Link could barely hear the king said, “Is she playing at something, again?”

But just as the queen was about to speak, Link caught on. “No,” he explained, “I mean when she was older…” Now it was the queen’s turn to be puzzled. She blinked.

“We have only one daughter,” she said, “and she is young. Why do you call her older?”

Link silently berated himself for being so dense. He felt more and more a child all the time. “I…we…the princess and me…” he began. The king looked at him more intently. “She sent me back to now so that I could warn you,” Link finished.

The captain leaned toward Link, planting an elbow on the arm of his wooden chair. “Did you say sent you to now?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Right,” Link said matter-of-factly. “She sent me back in time. To warn you,” he repeated.

The captain turned to the king. “Do you suppose Rauru knows about this?”

“We shall see,” the king replied, never taking his eyes from Link. Addressing the boy he said, “What is it you have come to warn us about, young one? What does the future hold?” It was as much a challenge as it was a question.

Link’s face felt hot. “Well…I’m not sure really where to start…see we sealed Ganon away in the Golden Land and…”

“He’s in the Golden Land?!” the king blurted abruptly. The queen’s right hand jumped to her chest and the captain’s left hand flew to his rapier. The king’s knuckles were white, his hands gripping the rests of his chair. His face was vehement, flanked by the startled expressions of the queen and captain. “That traitorous thief, coming to vow his allegiance…” the king muttered, “…never should have fallen for it, just wanted to get inside the walls…” Link was shocked silent.

“Calm yourself, Daphnes,” the queen said soothingly, “the Door is still in place. The keys are safe…” The king was appeased, but a small vein still protruded from his forehead. The captain relaxed his grip on the rapier at his side. Speaking to Link the queen said, “Forgive us, child. Please, how do you know of this?”

Link started to dislike being young again. “I told you, I was there! I fought Ganon in his tower that he built over where the castle used to be, and Zelda called on the Sages and they sealed him in the Golden Land, and then she sent me back seven years so I could get my lost time back, and now I’m here telling you that Ganon is going to get in and he’s going to get the Triforce, and we have to stop him!” Link breathed deeply. His younger body had less capacity for air than his older one did. He made a note of it and decided he would have to practice his diving again.

The king, queen and the captain seemed to assimilate what Link had said. The queen’s eyes were nearly-closed slits as she pondered what this news would mean. The others waited the moments it took for her to open them fully again. She spoke:

“If what you say is correct, then you would know that a bearer of the powers of the Triforce cannot be stopped by ordinary means. How did you defeat Ganon if he had the Power of Gold?”

“I had the Master Sword,” Link stated.

The air in the room changed. Whereas before it had been excited, it now became very still; reverent.

The queen’s eyes were focused on the boy. Her gaze lowered to his clothes as she opened her mouth to speak. “You drew the Master Sword from its pedestal?”

“Yes,” Link replied, cringing under the queen’s sharp stare. The captain muttered something to the king that Link could not hear. The king turned ever so slightly to hear what the captain was saying. “I had to get the three Spiritual Stones first, though, and that wasn’t easy,” Link added apologetically. “It took me forever just to get the Emerald from inside Father Dekku.”

The queen’s voice was quiet. “Tell us more of this news.”

Link shifted his feet. “Well, he had all sorts of big spiders living inside him and there were cobwebs everywhere…” he began.

“Forgive me, Master,” said the captain, “but I believe her Majesty means for you to describe your experience with the Blade of Evil’s Bane.”

For a moment Link did not understand that the captain had referred to him. He had never been called ‘Master’ before, though he knew it was used out of great respect. But three pairs of eyes were fixed on him, so he knew he must say something.

“It was…I remember seeing it and thinking how big it was. The light from the window behind it made it look that way, I think. But when I got closer it looked like someone had spent a lot of time on it, making it look fancy. And then…when I touched it…” Link’s body shuddered a little as he thought of the experience again. What had not yet happened in this time was seven years ago for him, though it was as vivid in his mind as if it was happening just then.

“Go on child,” he heard the queen say as his mind played the scene out again.

“It was like…it was like there was someone down there, under the sword, and they reached up through the sword and into me, and they grabbed my…chest, and…pulled.” Link’s small hand came up to the front of his tunic. His eyes narrowed as his fingers creased the green cloth. “But I couldn’t let go, and so when I pulled away from it the sword came out…and then everything went white, and then black. And the last thing I remember was someone laughing. And then I woke up and it was the future—seven years from now.”

Link’s eyes moved as if they could not see. Then suddenly his eyes focused somewhere behind the queen. “He’s coming tomorrow night. Zelda told me all about it—the future Zelda, I mean. He’s going to make night come early and he’s going to try to take the Ocarina from Zelda and then…and then I’ll come back with the other Spiritual Stones.” Here the king’s eyes narrowed. “My other self, I mean,” Link explained. “There’s another me, now; you can ask Impa. And then he’ll follow me into the Temple—Ganon will—and he’ll get in and get the Triforce.”

The king breathed in, and then out. “How are we to know that you speak the truth?” he asked. His wife laid a hand on his arm, her eyes a warning. “No, Zethra, I have been faced with too many tricks on account of this Thief Lord, I need to be sure.”

Link thought of something he could say: “Later today Death Mountain will erupt.”

“But the Death Mountain volcano has not erupted since the days of the Goddesses,” said the captain.

“It will today,” Link said. “I remember; I went up there after I got the Ruby from Daruni.” Link eyed the captain’s shield once again. “It’s a good thing I had one of those shields.”

The captain turned his gaze on Link intently. It seemed to Link that the captain had remembered something, and then dismissed it.

The king sat back in his chair. “Very well. We shall watch for this as a sign in the east. In the meantime, what do you advise?”

But Link had not thought this far ahead. He had thought that the king and queen would figure out what to do on their own. But they had to stop Ganon somehow—in the future it was the Sages that sealed Ganon away in the Golden Land, but in this time they would want to keep him out of the Golden Land in the first place. Link saw the king raise his thick eyebrows, expectant.

“You could get the Sages to help,” Link suggested quickly. Then he thought about what he had just said. He didn’t know who the Sages might be in this time much less if there were Sages; he had had to awaken all of the Sages in the future…all but Rauru. But if new Sages all had to be awakened, that must mean that the ones who came before them died in hiding or were killed along with Zelda’s parents…

The queen spoke, pulling Link from the grim thought. “It is wise,” she said, meeting the gaze of her husband, who sighed.

“The Sages should lay in wait for the Thief Lord in the Temple of Time,” said the captain. “Once the boy has entered the Sanctuary of the Temple, the Sages will be ready to capture the infiltrator. When he is in custody, he will be taken to the Arbiter’s Grounds and tried.”

Reluctantly, the king acquiesced. “Be careful, Zethra,” said the king. “I would not lose you to this man’s evil.”

The captain spoke. “She will not fall, Daphnes, I swear it. I will fall before she does.”

“Then you must both be careful. I would not lose either of you, Colin, if it can be avoided. The very thought makes my heart sick.”

The captain bowed his head and nodded, his face straight. “Thank you, my Liege,” he said, placing his fist over his heart.

“The Sages are mighty, my love,” said Zethra. “We cannot all fail…”

“Yes, but you are not immortal,” replied the king, laying his hand over hers. “Mudora proved that, Nayru keep him. You do not know what this man may do, if pressed.”

“I know that I cannot stand by and do nothing,” she answered.

Link felt that he was witnessing something very private, almost sacred. He shifted his belt and then flattened his tunic with one hand. He pondered a moment on what it meant for him to bring this news to the king and queen at this time. In his history the people of Hyrule were all but wiped out when Ganon invaded from the Golden Land; only those who evacuated to Kakariko village had survived. But Ganon was dangerous even before he had the Triforce of Power. He had put curses on Father Dekku and the Zora’s deity-fish, Jabun. Link knew that anyone who opposed Ganon would be putting themselves in mortal danger. He doubted for a moment whether his message was as important as all that. Was he so sure things wouldn’t just work out? “Please. Your majesties?” he said quietly.

“Yes, child,” said the king turning again to Link. “We will prepare as you have said. Nelson, where is the Gerudo Lord now?”

One of the guards behind Link stood to attention, his spear jutting out at an angle in front of him. “He has been given quarters in the town, my Liege. Shall I fetch him?”

“No thank you, Nelson. Let him stay there as long as he pleases. Make him comfortable, but do not give him any reason to suspect we know of his plans. Now that he has sworn us fealty we can neither arrest him nor detain him, especially for something he has not done. Nevertheless, I want your men on alert until further notice for any suspicious activity, especially anything near the temple. If anyone is seen entering the temple grounds, lock the outer gate.”

The guard nodded. “Aye, sir.”

“Proceed,” said the king, and the guard left the Grand Hall. The king turned to the captain. “Colin, I want the knights prepared to take up places of hiding outside the temple by morning. Have them cover every entrance, especially the secret ones, and put archers on all the surrounding rooftops. Have a Stealth Guard ready in case they need to catch the infiltrator inside the temple. Remember: we cannot arrest him until he has entered the Sanctuary. We must be ready to flush him out. You will accompany the queen within the temple. Agreed?”

“It shall be as you say, my Liege,” said the captain, bowing. He stooped to raise his shield to his back, bowing to Link as he passed him on his way out. “Master Hero,” said the captain. Link nodded, smiling meekly. All of this was happening so fast.

Now the king turned to his wife. “Say nothing, Daphnes,” she said. “You have spoken what your heart feels. I will not betray that. I must away to prepare the Sages.” And she arose to every inch of her elegant height, squeezing her husband’s hand before she too left the Grand Hall. The king watched her go, his eyes framed by taut eyebrows. Finally, he looked down at Link, who was shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Link opened his mouth to speak, but he could not think of anything to say. Now the Sages would put themselves between Ganon and the Golden Land because of what he had told them. The floor seemed to pull harder on him, making it seem that his boots were made of iron.

“Well then, young Hero, it remains what shall be done with you; for you cannot stay here,” said the king.

At first Link could not think what might happen to him. Then his eyes narrowed. “Excuse me, sir,” he bowed, “but what did you say?”

“What? Are you surprised that I called you Hero? It can only be so.” Surely, Link thought, they must be able to read his mind. The king continued: “My wife had a dream many years ago of one who would draw the Master Sword and travel through time to vanquish a Great Evil that had seized the Power of Gold. It simply remained to determine whether you were not some manifestation of that vile Thief Lord. My wife is right to trust you—I am not so trusting as she. When the captain told me of his confidence in you it was nearly set in my mind. I simply had to test you. I had to.” The king leaned forward in his chair. “I am sorry if you feel I have doubted you. Your role in these events has long been prophesied. You must have been through so much to be here before us. Please accept my thanks for what you have done, though I may never know the extent of it. You shall always be honored in this kingdom.”

Link’s mouth hung open for the second time. Through all of the dangers he had faced, amid all of the trials with what seemed like none to comfort him when he needed it; here, finally, he was being thanked—and by the king of Hyrule. He felt more like a child than ever, yet somehow much more grown up. “Thank you,” he finally said, looking the king squarely in the eye. It was as if a heavy burden had lifted off his shoulders and he was suddenly a part of Hyrule.

The king smiled. He looked almost like Father Dekku, Link thought. How long it had been since he had spoken with the Great Tree. Link suddenly longed for home. Then the king grimaced and swallowed hard, looking sick.

A feeling of helplessness gripped Link’s stomach. It was like the Dekku Tree dying all over again. “What’s wrong, your Majesty? Are you okay?”

“Nothing,” said the king, recovering. He pulled his handkerchief from his sleeve and pressed it to his mouth. “It is well. Now, tell me; you have said that you have a younger self that is also about?”

“Yes,” said Link, strange as it was to admit that there was another of him. He wondered what it would be like to meet himself. He guessed he had already done so, in a way, when he fought that shadow-thing that looked like him in the future. He remembered the creature’s red eyes most of all. In a strange way they had reminded Link of Sheik’s eyes; penetrating and truthful. Where had that shadow-Link come from? he wondered. He did not suppose he wanted to know, and he was gladdened to think he was steering the future away from having to face it again.

The king continued speaking. “Then my advice is that you should not be seen by those who do not know you are here. We must secure you a place of hiding. Know you of any place where none would come looking for you?”

Only one place occurred to Link. “There’s the forest,” he said. He thought of the other Koroki children and how they would never imagine what he had been through. It had only been a few days since his other self had left the forest. And again he wondered where Navi might be. “Sir, I wonder…” He felt very foolish asking the king if he had seen Navi, but it was his only option at the moment and Link was beginning to worry that she was lost. “Have you seen any fairies around the castle recently?”

To Link’s alarm, the king chuckled loudly. “My good lad, you are quite the jester!” He wiped his eyes on his handkerchief. “No, indeed the only fairies you might see around the castle are said to live in a cave…”

“…to the south-east of the castle. I know,” Link finished, disappointed.

The king looked vaguely confused for a moment, but seemed to assimilate this. “It appears that you are truly more knowledgeable than your age would suggest. Hero of Time indeed,” the king mused. “Yes, well, I shall leave it to you then, Master Hero, where you feel your path may lead you. Have you transport? A horse?”

Link still felt bare without so many of the useful weapons and items he had acquired from his travels. Most of all he had become accustomed to getting around with Epona, the mare he had won from Lon Lon Ranch in the future. She would still be a foal at the ranch in this time. “I don’t even have a sword, sir,” he said.

“Then you will be outfitted before you leave.” The king took a folded card from within his jacket and called to one of the guards by the dais for a well of ink and a quill. It was brought in moments and Link watched as the king scrawled instructions on the card and then returned the quill and ink. “Take this note to the armory in the basements of the castle and they will give you what you need.” He handed the card to Link. “Then we shall have Impa escort you to the ranch outside of town. She will have a pony prepared for you. Return to us soon. If events go well, you shall be welcome back. If there is any sign that we have failed…” the king’s face became solemn, “then the Goddesses help us all.”

“I…I will not fail you,” Link said, emboldened by the weight of the king’s apparent sorrow. “I will return. If you are still in danger I will do all I can to help you.”

“Thank you, Link, Hero-who-has-passed-through-time. May the Goddess of Time bless you. Now go.” And bowing once more, Link left the Grand Hall in search of the armory.

Chapter II
SECRETS and SWORDS

“Impa, what did he say?” Zelda nearly had to run to match the pace of her hurried nursemaid. Rats scurried in and out of the puddles of water on the tunnel floor but she paid them no heed. The light of Impa’s lantern drove them from the path. The tunnels under the castle grounds were damp and squalid, but they were the fastest path anywhere within the Hylian Realm.

“I have told you, Princess; the boy warned us of an impending threat to the castle. That is all you need know.” The tunnel forked in three directions. Impa veered to the left, toward the Temple of Time.

“But Impa, it was my dream! Am I not permitted to know the events unfolding from my own prophecy?”

“Your premonition was enough to put the boy on the proper course. That is done, and now events shall unfold as they will.” They came to a stone wall with a barred off storm drain at the base. Bolted to the wall was a set of three corroded handles that ostensibly had no purpose. Impa pulled on the handle in the center and turned it vertically so it would remain in place. She did the same to the left handle, then the right one. A loud click was heard behind the wall and the stones of the wall shifted back and out of the way to reveal a well-preserved metal ladder leading to a landing high above them. “Come,” said Impa, “you shall go first.”

“Tell me what he really said.” The princess stood defiant, her jaw set.

Impa grew impatient. “Either you will keep up with me or I will carry you.”

Zelda took this as an insult. She screwed up her face and twisted as she thrust her arms in the air. The next moment a green light enveloped her and she vanished. Another flash of green came from the landing above. Zelda’s face emerged from over the ledge.

“Perhaps you should keep up with me, nursemaid. Know who your princess is.”

Impa did not look pleased at this. Snuffing her lantern, she threw it high in the air. One moment Impa vanished in a flash of smoke and the next she appeared on the landing with another flash. Impa caught the lantern out of the air and with a snap of her fingers it was alight again. Zelda recoiled, flattening herself against the wall. Impa lowered her face so it was level with the princess’.

“I serve you as nursemaid because I honor the vows of my ancestors, humble though my heritage may be. You would do well to honor your house by showing more courtesy to those who protect you, noble one.” Impa stood erect again. Zelda looked on her nursemaid with awe. She pulled herself away from the wall and straightened her gown.

“Lead on, then,” said Zelda meekly, looking at the ground.

Impa placed her foot carefully on a stone near the ledge and thrust her weight on the spot. The stone under her foot sank into the ground and there was another click. The stones of the wall moved again to conceal the ladder and the handles reset themselves.

Zelda watched the wall close together. “Impa, I am sorry. I should not have called you nursemaid as I did, like it was a thing of dishonor.”

“It is what I am, child. There is no dishonor in that,” said Impa. “And you truly are the princess I knew you were.” A smile crept across Zelda’s face. “You must not separate yourself from me again. Come, now,” said Impa. “Haste is imperative.”

* * *

“Can this news be true?” asked Rauru. Tobias stood close by, sweeping their loft in one of the towers of the Temple of Time. Zelda sat in a wooden chair near the door.

“Yes, Rauru, it is,” said Impa. “The Hero has returned from the future to aid us in our time of need, though we knew it not. The coming of the Gerudo King to these lands surely portents evil. It is simply a matter of when he will strike.”

“Which this boy says will be tomorrow,” concluded Rauru. “And our hospitality and diplomacy have put the enemy in a first class room by the town courtyard.” Rauru pulled back the wisps of his thin white hair. “We will need to be prepared.” The Sage leaned on the sill of the open window, looking out over Hyrule. “I have served this fair land since I was a youth, Impa. I have seen all too much evil in my day. Do you remember Potho? No, of course you wouldn’t…he was my master. He was very old when I was a young man; Tobias’ age, in fact. We saw dreadful things in those days. An ancient Minish wizard had escaped his imprisonment and started to snatch away the young girls of the town. Potho told me of a blade infused with the four elements. The wizard—what was his name; Baaki or some such?—was imprisoned in the blade by six maidens said to be children of the Great Faries.” Zelda looked at her nursemaid with a gasp of surprise but Impa signaled for her to say nothing. Rauru still gazed out the window. “None speak of it anymore, but that noble sword in the hands of the right young man saved the daughters of our land.” Rauru nodded his head, as if remembering some small detail. “He was the ancestor of our young Colin,” he finished.

“The captain?” blurted Tobais. He had stopped sweeping. When Rauru turned to the young man he quickly began sweeping again.

“Yes, Tobias, the captain’s grandfather. His name was Gustav, after the first hero of all. Gustav’s father was a notable hero as well…” Rauru suddenly paused, thoughtful. “Impa, what did you say that boy’s name was? The boy from the future?”

Zelda opened her mouth, but Impa turned swiftly to cut her off. “He did not say, Rauru. We only know him as the Hero of Time.”

Rauru accepted this, though he did not look convinced. “Well, in any case, we will need to make ready.”

“This is why we have come to see you. The Hero relates that the attack will come after he has opened the Sanctuary and drawn the Blade of Evil’s Bane.”

Rauru froze. Then, as quickly as he froze, he became animated. “He plans to open the Sanctuary? Is he mad!?” Both Zelda and Tobias jumped and stared at one another. Rauru paced the floor. “You have come to tell me that the boy who purports be our Hero…”

“…is our Hero…” corrected Impa. Rauru paid her no heed.

“…is going to pretend to draw the sword which cannot be drawn…”

“…except by one who is pure of heart…” interjected Impa desperately.

“…and let our enemy have access to the Power of Gold? Impa, I will not allow it. The Sanctuary is under my supervision…”

“Rauru, he is meant to lure him into a trap…” Impa said over him.

“…and I simply will not allow it. I closed the door myself. I enchanted the keys, and I entrusted them to the races of Hyrule. The door will not open without the keys. How is he supposed to enter without the keys?”

“He will have the keys; he already has the Emerald, and he is on his way now to get the Ruby from the Gorons.”

Rauru was incredulous. “Already has…! Impa, you surely cannot permit this boy to enter the Sanctuary! How can we hope to combat the most dangerous man alive!? I trust you will not allow him the Ocarina…?” Rauru’s eyes darted between Impa and Zelda. Zelda’s eyes shot from Rauru to Impa to Tobias and she clenched her chest where a potato-sized lump of clay lay hidden under her dress.

“Rauru, you cannot know what you are suggesting,” said Impa. “Please, listen to me…”

“No, Impa. No. I simply will not allow the Door of Time to be opened. We stopped the Gerudo King once before, and it cost us two of our number. Oh, Goddesses, no, no. Not again.” He shook his wispy-haired head. Tobias was visibly frightened. Zelda imagined he had never seen his master this way.

Impa grabbed the Sage by the shoulders. “Rauru, is not the Door of Time so named because the Hero of Time was meant to open it? And does not the prophecy speak of a child to whom the Goddesses would grant a sword, like a key, to lock away the Great Evil? And how is the Hero to obtain the sword if he cannot enter the Sanctuary where it is hidden? You said yourself that a sword in the hands of the right young man…”

“Yes, Impa, a young man! Not a boy, a little boy…”

Then Impa clutched Rauru’s clothes in one hand and cupped her mouth to his ear. Rauru paused in his frenzy to listen. Zelda could not hear what it was she said, but whatever it was caused the old man to be still. Then his expression changed from consternation to relief, then utter joy. “Impa,” he said. “Impa, is this true?” He began to weep. Zelda looked as if she had been denied permission to ride her own horse.

“Yes, Rauru. We need you to help us. When he comes, he will be locked away in the Sacred Realm. When this happens you must take the Ocarina from him. We will send him away with it so that it may be preserved. You must do this, or all may be lost.”

Rauru nodded reverently. “Yes, Impa, yes, I understand.”

“Well. Then we must away. Come, Princess.” Zelda looked as if she would protest, but a glance from Impa got her up from her seat, grumbling all the way.

“Impa wait,” said Rauru. He was holding the gray stone that hung around his neck. In all respects it matched the one that the king wore at the tournament. “The queen has just contacted me from the castle. The Sages are to convene. We will set our plan. They also say you are to escort the young hero to the ranch to acquire a horse.”

Impa assimilated this. “Where am I to meet him?” she asked.

“In the castle armory.”

“Be sure that you do not fail,” said Impa. “We will protect the Ocarina.”

“Yes. Until then. Farewell, princess. May the Goddesses watch over you.” Zelda could not bring herself to smile as her nursemaid ushered her out of the Sage’s loft.

* * *

Link exited the Grand Hall the way he had entered. Then he stopped suddenly, startled; in front of him stood a very important-looking knight. Link had the sudden urge to duck behind a planter, but there were none nearby. His Koroki upbringing failed him as he remembered too late that he could not hide in plain sight like the other Koroki. The soldier approached Link…and extended his gloved hand to the green-clad boy.

“Master Hero, I presume.”

Link eyed the man cautiously. “You’re not going to throw me out?”

The knight laughed a hearty, genuine laugh that caught Link off guard. “Whatever for?” said the soldier. “Impa told me of you. Come, give me your hand if we be friends. My name is Afton. I am the Second Lieutenant of the Knights of Hyrule.”

Link warily offered the man his hand. The knight’s hand almost concealed his. Link realized once again how out of place he felt in such a young body. “Thanks,” he said, taking back his hand. “I’m Link.”

“Very well, Master Link. How can I be of service?”

Link realized that Afton didn’t know he needed weapons. He pulled out the card the king wrote on and handed it to Afton. The knight studied it for a moment.

“Then you will need some equipment, it appears. Come, I shall escort you.” Afton turned to one of the two staircases leading down from the Grand Hall. On his back was a shield like the captain’s. Link paused, staring at it.

Afton noticed Link’s alarm. “What is it?”

“That shield…”

“Yes. It is the shield of the Hylian Knights. Do you know it?”

“I…” Link shuffled his feet. “I had one…once.” He felt ashamed to say it. If it was the shield of a Hylian Knight, Afton might think Link had stolen one.

“Really?” Afton said, descending the staircase. “How interesting.” Link caught up with him.

“You don’t think I’m a thief?”

“Not unless you are,” Afton smiled. He led Link through the corridors of the castle. “Each Knight of Hyrule is issued his shield, which he keeps for the length of his service. If it is damaged he repairs it. It is a symbol of our constant vigilance and oath to protect the Royal Family, and to serve the Goddesses. While no more are made than there are knights, sometimes knights are lost or perish away from home. The shields of knights past sometimes find their way back to the Castle Town market. I expect this is where you bought yours.”

“Yeah,” Link lied. The shield he had owned came from the grave of a knight in Kakariko Village. He was almost glad he no longer had it; it felt like a dishonour to the memory of the knight, whoever he was, to carry around his shield without his permission. The gravekeeper who dug it up for him must not have known…or maybe he did… Link resolved to ask him if he ever got the chance. They exited the castle into the rear courtyard. The sky outside showed it was nearing evening.

“Sir?” Link said.

“Please, call me Afton.” They had passed through the inner corridors of the castle to the outer courtyards and now they descended the staircase that led to the basements.

“Um…right. Afton? Could you tell me about the captain?”

Afton’s brow furrowed before he answered. “The captain is a good man, valiant and brave. He has led the knights through many battles and is often weighed down by sorrow. Nevertheless, he is a strong man, and kind, when he is not provoked.” Link thought this must be true.

“He didn’t seem very sad earlier,” said Link.

“Yes, he does much not to concern others with his grief.”

“What happened?”

“He lost his wife and child. About ten years ago there were random attacks made on the people of Hylia. Villagers would be ambushed, and then the attackers would vanish without leaving any sign of their presence. It was impossible to track them, and they never left any alive. The captain sent his wife and child to Kakariko to keep them safe, but their escort was attacked, and they were never seen again.”

Link wasn’t sure what to say. “That’s horrible,” he said, finally.

“Karin was my sister,” said Afton. “I was fifteen when she went missing.”

“I’m…really sorry.” He thought again of the Dekku Tree, the most important figure in his young life…and Navi. He still needed to find her. “What was your sister like?” he asked.

Afton let out a low chuckle. “She was a spoiled brat, as I remember.”

“What…?” Link was taken aback.

“Oh, you’ll have to excuse me, Master Link. I guess I deal with my sister’s passing differently than others might… I like to remember her as if she were still here. It keeps me from feeling like she’s really gone. And she isn’t, really. I remember the way she would tell me about the graveyard out in Kakariko and how it was haunted. She’d threaten to leave me there, sometimes. And she always tried to convince me of things that didn’t exist. Things like castles in the sky, and fish two feet long!” He chuckled again to himself. “She’d even make me think there were rupees hidden in the bushes.”

Link rolled his eyes but said nothing.

They arrived at the armory in the basements of the castle. The soldiers on either side of the thick wooden double-doors pulled them open when they saw the lieutenant approach. When they entered the armory, Link’s eyes were filled with the sight of walls and walls of weapons and armor. The spears the soldiers always carried stood in upright bundles in one corner. Elegant long swords traced with fine inlay; rapiers with sweeping basket hilts; strong, square short swords all hung in patterns on their racks. Stacks of tower shields with feet like a dogs; heavy round shields rimmed with studs; small bucklers all leaned against each other. Countless other things lay in piles, hung from pegs on the walls or ceiling or protruded from barrels. Link suddenly felt like all the treasures from all the temples he had ever seen had been dumped in one place.

“What would you like, Master Link?” said Afton.

Link didn’t know where to start.

The lieutenant asked Link questions to get an idea for what style of fighting he was accustomed to and very quickly they were perusing the options for a sword and shield combination. Afton showed Link the finer points of each weapon, making suggestions and offering advice. There was a good shield that closely resembled the Hylian shield Link had once owned, but it was smaller and had a stylized winged skull in place of the bird. Because of its size Link could hold it in front of him, which was a great improvement to having to carry it on his back all the time. He also found a good strong short sword; just right for him. He decided it felt odd having anything fancier, as nothing came close to the Master Sword itself. He longed to hold that blade in his adult hands again. It was as if it were made only for him to use—no weapon would ever measure up to the Blade of Evil’s Bane.

Link felt that his sword and shield were enough for now. He figured he would find other things along the way if he needed them. It just felt good to be able to defend himself again. While Link was testing the feel of his new short sword by pulling it from the sheath on his back, Afton was comparing the edges of his own rapier to a newer one that looked identical to it. Then a wry smile crept across Link’s face.

“I’ll need to sharpen this soon, I think,” said Afton. Then suddenly the flat of Link’s sword slapped Afton’s thigh, clinking against his mail armor. Afton’s rapier came around reflexively and would have cut the tip from Link’s cap if Link had not met the rapier with his own blade.

“What in the name of…” Afton’s eyes widened when he realized what he had almost done. Then he saw the playful look on Link’s face and it was as if some third party had given a signal for the spar to begin.

Clashing metal followed shouts as the two parried each other’s attacks. Smiling all the while the two of them tested the other’s defenses, not truly wishing to do harm but interested and excited to see what the other would do. Link found his opponent more than worthy, as he discovered when he was forced to make use of his new shield to avoid a high attack. It had always felt unfair to Link that he had to take on opponents larger than him. There had been the Iron Knuckles of the Desert Shrine that were simply too well armored to manage comfortably as an adult, and outright impossible as a child. He remembered his tactics, however, and began to take advantage of his smaller size.

As Link worked a few rolls into his routine, Afton was forced into the defensive. He soon had to guess where Link might be the next moment in order to parry his attacks. Nevertheless, Afton was not Second Lieutenant for nothing. Grasping a second rapier Afton began fighting with two hands, parrying with one sword and thrusting with the other. But after a series of strikes Link had learned how to anticipate even this style of fighting, and he was soon beating Afton at his own game. Link caught Afton’s rapier at the guard and forced the tip toward the ground. Lunging, he rolled over the blade with his shield, snapping it near the hilt, and came up within Afton’s defenses with his short sword to Afton’s chest. Afton pointed his borrowed rapier to the ground breathing heavily and smiling.

“Well done!” said Afton. “You have certainly seen battle, Master Hero! If only my old blade had been more resilient, I might have had wherewith to challenge you further.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Link, realizing what he had done to Afton’s rapier. “Sorry.” Then Link and Afton became aware of a small pair of hands clapping very quickly. It was coming from somewhere near the door. It was Zelda, and behind her stood Impa, looking stern.

“Oh, Impa, weren’t they wonderful?” said Zelda. But a sober face from Impa quieted her excitement.

“Master Hero, we are here by order of the queen to escort you to the ranch,” said Impa as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Are you sufficiently prepared?”

If Afton had not just dueled with him Link might have felt very childish just then, but as it was he looked at Afton and shared a kind of glance that could only have been shared between two brothers when their mother finds they have made a mess of things; a kind of guilty satisfaction. Afton spoke first.

“I should arrange for the smith to mend my rapier,” he said to Link, picking up the two broken pieces. “I suppose my services are no longer needed for the moment." Afton walked toward a small door in the back of the armory over which hung a sign with a hammer and tongs. Before he was out of sight he turned and winked at Link. “Good luck with your escort.”

Link rolled his eyes and smiled. He sheathed his sword and slung his shield over his back. Turning, he saw Zelda looking straight at him. Suddenly his face went hot and he didn’t know whether to laugh or find a planter to hide behind.

Impa lowered her stern gaze to Link. “Haste is imperative, Master Link. Come.” Zelda looked up at her nursemaid with a face that said ‘see! I knew it!’ “Yes, child, I knew his name. We can discuss it another time. Come, both of you.” And she walked past the guards toward the stairs.

Zelda waited for Link to get to the door before she followed her nursemaid.

“Hi,” said Link, scratching the back of his neck. Zelda matched his pace.

“Hi,” she replied, a little more musically than she intended. Then Impa’s voice came from the stairwell.

“We will have to hurry if we are to make it to the ranch before the princess’ bedtime.”

Zelda’s face went pink and she sighed.

Chapter III
Of HORSES and RANCHERS

“But, Impa, I can ride Asphodel. You know I can!”

“No. You are too reckless with him. You will take Brynn.”

Zelda and Impa were arguing about riding arrangements. In order to get Link to the ranch they would have to take exactly two horses. One would not carry all three of them, and three horses would mean one horse being led back to the castle, effectively slowing one of them down. The castle stables had a number of fine stallions and mares (Link was sure that all of these came from Lon Lon Ranch), and Link did not mind biding his time looking at all of them in turn. He noticed that each of the stalls had small plates attached to them with the names of the horse and its rider. ‘Bree/Duncan,’ read one plaque. ‘Frock/Franklin,’ said the next. It seemed that Hyrule Castle kept no more horses than it had riders.

Link saw a sandy colored stallion with a rich brown mane and an irregular blaze of white down its nose. Link smiled when he saw the plaque. It said: ‘Geoffrey/Afton.’ Then he saw a dappled gray mare with a mane of white. The plaque said ‘Orda/Colin.’ “Orda,” Link said aloud, testing the name. He had never heard it before.

“No, Link. We can’t take Orda,” said Zelda. “She’s the captain’s.”

“Oh, I was just saying it,” he replied. “What does it mean?”

“You mean you’ve never heard of Orda?” Zelda asked. She came over to Orda’s pen and reached up to the horse’s muzzle. The horse lowered its head to touch the princess’ hand. “She’s a good girl, she is…” said Zelda, rubbing Orda’s nose lovingly. “Orda is named after the Goddess of Time.” When Link looked perplexed she elaborated. “Most Hylians only worship the three Golden Goddesses for whom the Triforce is named; Din—Goddess of Power, Faroe—Goddess of Courage, and Nayru—Goddess of Wisdom. But the Temple of Time was built to honor all of the Goddesses, not just the ones who created Hyrule. There is also a Goddess of Time—Orda. Not many know her name but she is always there, sending us off when we start a quest, expecting us to use our precious time to the fullest, and waiting for us at the close of every journey, expecting us to give an account of what we have done. She is the beginning, and also the ending, of every tale.”

Link felt as if he still had much to learn. He did not have much chance to ponder this, however, as Impa trotted up to them on Brynn, a solid brown mare. She led another horse, a white stallion, by the reins.

“Up you get, young ones,” said Impa. “The Goddess is urging us on.” She tossed the reins of the extra horse to Link. “This is Asphodel, Master Link. He will treat you well if you treat him in kind. Oh, no, child; you will ride with me,” she added, staring at Zelda, who was about to mount Asphodel.

“But Impa, please!”

“You may ride him on the way back…” Impa began—and Zelda made a little hop and a squeal of giddiness—“…if we leave the ranch in time to get you into bed. Your father will be furious enough with me that I am letting you take your mother’s horse.”

“Oh yes, Impa, I promise!”

“Then up with me,” Impa said, helping the princess into the saddle in front of her. Link was left trying to climb into the saddle of the white stallion. “You have ridden horses before, I presume, Master Link…”

“Yeah,” said Link, rolling on his stomach over the horse’s back. “They were just a lot smaller then…or I was…bigger,” he said, finally settling into the saddle. He was red-faced from the effort.

“Very well.” Impa now spoke quickly and clearly. “When we arrive we shall make no indication that you are other than yourself before you returned to us from the future. You have received permission from the king to commandeer a horse to speed you on your way to Zora’s Domain to deliver a message to the king of the Zoras. Any other conversation will follow unrelated matters. Reveal nothing about Ganondorf’s presence in Hyrule, and always refer to myself as Mistress Impa and the princess as Her Highness. Is this understood?”

“Yes, ma’am…uh, Mistress Impa.”

“Isn’t he cute…?” Zelda mumbled quietly to Impa. Impa just sighed and kicked Brynn into a trot. Link managed to hold on as Asphodel followed them out of the stables.

* * *

Once Link had accustomed himself to riding in his smaller body the trip to the ranch was as pleasant as Link remembered, having traveled it with Epona more than once—more so, in fact, because the fields of Hyrule had not yet been desecrated by the power of Ganon as they had been in his future. Link took in the distinct scent of grass, trees and fresh evening air, and savored the golden-pink light of the setting sun over the low eastern mountains. He remembered the smell of loose soil as they passed clusters of peahats, shifting their blade-like leaves over the dirt in nervous response to the horses’ passing. Things were as he remembered them, and it felt like long ago that he had never even known this place…once, somewhere in his past, he thought he was just another Koroki child without a fairy.

He had learned so much on his travels through Hyrule, and through time. He had learned of his true Hylian heritage, and what it meant to have a real friend—a constant companion to teach him what he needed to know; to watch out for him, and warn him if danger was near; to guide his hand in battle, and comfort him if he was weary. As Link gazed at the setting sun, he thought he saw the bright orb flash blue just before winking out. Ever since leaving the Koroki Forest, he had always had Navi with him, and now she was gone. He knew that if he were lost, Navi would search in every tree, under every bush and deep inside every dungeon until she found him. He resolved to find her as soon as he could…as soon as he could get a horse.

And then, as a warm northerly breeze blew out to them from the ranch, Link heard the call of another friend on the wind. A familiar neigh reached his pointed ears and he kicked his mount into a gallop. “Epona!” he called out.

Impa and Zelda were close behind when Link reached the ranch’s entrance. He grabbed the rope of the bell that hung from the archway as he passed, letting it clang haphazardly. As the track came into view, he squinted in the waning light to find the young foal. Just as Brynn stopped behind Asphodel, Link had already dismounted and was running toward the fence of the track. Zelda dismounted as well, ignoring her nursemaid’s reminders about her bedtime, and joined Link on the fence. In the middle of the horse-pen, grazing next to her dam, was Epona.

Link tried for all he was worth to whistle the song that Malon had taught him (what seemed like) so long ago. When he could not whistle he tried to hum, but it was still not loud enough for the song to carry to the middle of the pen. He cursed himself for not asking for an ocarina before he left the castle…then he remembered that Zelda must still have the Ocarina of Time. She had yet to give it to his other self. Then a lantern-light came out of the front door of the ranch-house and he knew he would have to speak quickly.

“Zelda, listen,” he began. At that moment she looked as if he were the only interesting thing she had ever seen. “You have to give me the Ocarina of Time.” Then her face changed from interest to disbelief.

“Give you the Ocarina?” Zelda hand came up to the lump hanging from her neck. “I can’t…my mother gave…”

“Not now, later,” said Link. The rancher was closer now. “Tomorrow, when my other self gets to the city gate, you’ll throw the Ocarina to me. I’ll need it to get the Master Sword.”

“But…” Zelda hesitated. Talon was talking to Impa. She had just finished lashing the horses to a post. “But Rauru said he didn’t want you to get in. I know I said I wanted you to get the other stones so we could get the Triforce before that Evil Man in my dream, but…” Talon and Impa were walking toward them. “But what if it doesn’t work?”

“Quiet. They’re here,” said Link.

Talon raised his lantern high so he could see the two children. He was a medium-sized man with a larger-than-medium-sized belly. His tasseled night-cap came down to his thick bushy eyebrows. He ran one of his plump fingers under his black mustached nose as he peered at the lit faces before him with droopy eyes.

“Well!” said Talon, “if this ain’t a pleasant surprise! I heard the bell; if I’d a-known that you’d be comin’, Yer Majesty, I’d a-gotten Mally up outta bed.”

“Hello Talon. And it’s Highness, actually. I’m not queen yet,” said Zelda. “How’s the ranch.”

“Oh, jes’ fine,” said Talon. “And how’s my best chicken hunter, eh?” Talon gave Link a playful nudge with his elbow. “Come back to marry my daughter after all, did’ja?” Link’s face burned hot as he noticed Zelda glare at him disapprovingly. Link looked away. He wished for a sudden breeze to blow out the lantern. “Oh, don’t worry Zelly. I already told him she’s not his type.” Now it was Zelda’s turn to be embarrassed. Thankfully, Impa cut in.

“Master Rancher, as I explained, our young friend here is on a mission from the king to visit Zora’s Domain tomorrow, and he will need a place for the night and a means of transport. Will you allow him a horse for his journey?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. No problem at all, Miss Impa. Anything fer the king.” Talon’s head bobbed long after he had finished talking. Then the sound of small feet on packed sod came from somewhere inside the horse-pen and soon a red-haired girl of Zelda’s age came running into the lantern light.

“Zelly! I’m so glad t’see you!” said the girl. Talon rolled his eyes and buried his face in his hand.

“Mal!” responded Zelda, swinging her legs over the fence elegantly and landing on the other side. The friends embraced.

“What’re you doin’ here?” said Malon.

“Oh, nothing,” responded Zelda. Link suddenly felt as if he had never existed.

“D’you wanna take Brynn around before we hit the sack? We could sleep under the stars tonight, right Poppa?” Malon turned eagerly to her abashed father. Talon was peeking at them through his fingers.

Zelda looked up at her nursemaid. Impa’s face was inscrutable. “Actually, Mal…I really should get going. I’ll come to visit soon, okay?”

“Aw, but Zelly, cain’t you just stay the night?”

“No, I really have to go,” Zelda admitted regretfully.

“Oh, alright. Well, I’ll have to show you what I bin doin’ with Hossel when you come next; he trots right nice, now.”

“Sure,” said Zelda happily, and the friends embraced again.

“Okay, now, Missy,” Talon said, wagging a thick finger at his daughter, “you git up in bed afore I’m after you with a horse-whip!”

“Oh, Poppa,” Malon sighed, shaking her head. “I’ll let you talk to Miss Impa if you want.” She leaned over the fence to kiss her father on the cheek. “G’night, Miss Impa,” she said, and ducked between the rails of the fence before running back to the house, her ginger braid swinging behind her. Talon’s face might have outmatched his daughter’s hair in color.

“I believe that I must regrettably take my leave of you as well, Master Rancher. Come Your Highness.” Zelda obeyed, avoiding Link entirely. When she and Impa were out of the lantern light Talon watched Link peer into the darkness after them.

“You, uh…you wantin’ ter git fixed up fer bed, then?” asked Talon.

Link looked at the rancher suspiciously. “Wasn’t Malon already supposed to be in bed?”

Talon just nodded, a regretful look on his face. He clicked his tongue. “That Miss Impa’s a right strict woman, ain’t she?” he said.

“Yep.” Link sighed. “Do you suppose they all grow up to be like that?”

“One thing you learn bein’ a rancher, son. They never grow how you raise ‘em. They grow how they want, and you jes’ have to live with it.”

* * *

When Zelda and Impa had passed the ranch’s outer gate they paused together. Facing their hands inward, small red lights grew in front of each of them; little hovering fires. These flames provided enough light to see the road by and allowed Impa and Zelda to maintain sight of one another. Asphodel and Brynn walked instinctively without their riders having to direct them.

“I am very proud of you, you know,” said Impa as they started on the road back to the castle. “You made the choice to leave on your own. That is a sign of maturity.”

“Well,” said Zelda. “I did want to ride Asphodel.”

“Yes, but you could have stayed…”

Zelda looked straight forward. “What was there to stay for?”

“There was Mistress Malon. And did you not meet well with Master Link?”

Zelda sighed. “No, Impa, I suppose I didn’t.” They passed some moments in silence. “He asked me to give him the Ocarina tomorrow.” She looked discouraged.

Impa’s voice remained unweighted. “And will you?”

“Well…no. Why should I? Rauru said he didn’t want Link to get in.” Impa remained quiet for some time. “Do you think I should give it to him, Impa?”

“That is your choice, child. I cannot make it for you.”

Zelda was pensive, then: “Rauru said that a sword in the hands of the right person saved the daughters of Hyrule. You told Rauru that you thought Link was that kind of person didn’t you?”

“Do you believe Master Link is the forest-child from your dream?”

“Yes.”

“And do you feel that he will part the clouds of darkness that threaten the land?”

Zelda thought longer about this, then: “I think I should give the Ocarina to him. I believe the Goddesses sent him to us.”

“Then it seems you have made your decision,” Impa said.

Zelda looked at her nursemaid with fondness. “Thank you Impa,” Zelda said.

“Whatever for, child? I told you nothing.”

“For letting me choose for myself.”

Impa smiled. “You are wise, young one. I am very proud of you.” And as the spires of the castle loomed sharp against the gritty blue night, two little fires found their way among the darkness.

Chapter IV
The CASTLE SIEGED

Link awoke the next morning refreshed, yawning widely. When his eyes opened properly, he realized that someone else was in his room. It was a girl with red hair sitting on a stool. She was wearing a nightgown.

“Malon!” Link cried out, pulling the covers up over his long underwear. His tunic and cap lay strewn where he had left them the night before: in the corner behind the door on the opposite side of the room. “Turn around or something…”

“Why, Link, I seen cows give birth; I cert’nly don’t care about long night-britches. ‘Sides, this is my room, proper, and if you don’t like it you can git another room.”

Link decided he would compromise by tucking the bedcovers up to his neck and hoping she would go away. “What are you doing in here anyway?” he asked.

“Poppa said I should kip an eye on you, so here I am.”

“Where is he?”

“Out feedin’ the horses…he says Miss Impa says the king says you kin have one…”

“Oh…yeah.” Then he remembered Epona. “Hey! Do you think I could take Epona with me?”

“I figger it’s up t’Epona, but I don’t reckon she’d mind. She’s awful fond of you, you know…” Malon winked at him.

“…yeah,” said Link, trying to think of a way to get to his clothes. “Um, so what were you doing outside last night? Your dad said you were in bed.”

“Oh, that. I was just talkin’ to Hossel, tellin’ him what a good job he’d done, slippin’ him a few carrots. Poppa says we ain’t got enough carrots as it is, but I figger Hossel done so good he d’served it. Poppa says there’s ghosts out there at night, so he don’t like it when I’m out, but I jes’ wanted to say hi…to Hossel that is.” This sounded like an awful long explanation to Link.

“Okay…” Link said, narrowing his eyes. Malon looked like she had a worm in her nightgown.

“Okay, you finagled it outta me! I heard Epona neigh like that an’ I knew you was comin’. She ain’t neighed like that since you left. I reckon she likes you…”

“Yeah, you said that…” Link said, clenching the bedcovers. “So…” he thought he could get to his tunic if he could distract her…if only he had something to throw.

“So Poppa says you kin git somethin’ t’eat whenever you’re awake, so now that you’re awake you kin git somethin’ t’eat…if you want.”

“Um, okay,” said Link, cursing himself for not asking for a slingshot before he left the castle. Or maybe some Dekku Seeds.

“Or I could git you somethin’ t’eat…” she suggested with feigned reluctantance. Link was overjoyed; this was his chance! “…but only if you promise not to run off afore I hear all about where you bin an’ where you’re goin’. It gits awful boring when there ain’t no visitors.”

Link decided it was a fair trade; it was the only way she would leave. “Deal,” he said. Malon smiled, slid off the stool and ran to the door, her red braid whipping behind her. Link was poised, ready to dive for his clothes.

Then Malon stopped at the door. “You stay here, now! You promised.”

“Okay,” he said, settling back under the covers. Satisfied, she left the room. Moments later he heard her footsteps thumping down the stairs.

Link threw the covers back and ran to the door. Swinging it shut, he retrieved his clothes and threw them on, grabbing his belt from where it hung over the chair, and his boots from under the window. He considered leaving his sword and shield by the dresser at the foot of the bed, but decided against it. He never knew when he might be in a hurry to leave…

Link had found his way to the dining room when Talon came in for breakfast. They had bacon, eggs, warm milk (“freshly squeezed this mornin’,” said Talon), and bread with butter. Link had forgotten that in his haste the day before, he had not had anything to eat. He gorged himself like a ravenous wolf.

“Slow down there, youngin’. It’ll still be there in five minutes,” said Talon lowering a platter of sizzling sausages to the table. He sat and helped himself to some eggs. “Mally, you comin’?” he hollered. Link could hear Malon respond from upstairs.

“Yeah.” Her voice got closer. “Poppa, have you seen Li—” she stopped in the dining room doorway with a platter of food in her hands. “Oh.” She looked displeased.

Link paused with a sausage halfway out of his mouth. He tried to swallow it as quickly as possible so he could talk, but when he tried to speak he only succeeded in getting things down the wrong way. He coughed fiercely.

“Mal, I think he needs help!” said Talon with alarm.

Malon slammed the platter on the table. “Let him choke,” she said, grabbing a piece of bread and storming past Link out the back door.

Link gulped down half of his milk. When he recovered, he saw what was on the platter Malon had brought in. The scrambled eggs had been arranged in the shape of a horse and two slices of bacon suggested a road under the horse’s legs. Milk had splashed over the head of a daisy garnishing a slice of buttered bread. Link suddenly felt like sinking into a puddle on the floor. He hurriedly gathered as much food as he could, threw it on his plate, and turned to run out the back door.

“Wait, Link!” hollered Talon. “Take yer milk!” Link returned only long enough to grab the pitcher of milk and run out the door again.

Malon was sitting with her back to the house on the far side of a large empty metal tub. Next to the chicken coop were a few chickens who she was feeding with little bits of bread. Link could hear her talking.

“…you like my breakfast don’t you, little cuckoos. Yeah, that dirty, rotten boy don’t have no manners…”

Link cleared his throat. “Do you want something to eat?” he asked meekly.

Malon turned around quickly and then hid her face again. “Link! What? Go away…” Link thought she might have been crying.

“I, uh…I brought you some food,” he said, waving the plate in the air; a sausage fell to the ground. She didn’t look. He stepped a little closer. “Hey, um…I’m sorry I didn’t stay in my room…” he began.

“My room. You promised,” she said, turning away.

“Sorry,” he said, and immediately felt foolish for repeating himself. He put down the plate of sausages and the pitcher of milk and sat on the edge of the metal tub next to her. She pulled her braid around in front of her and began twirling the end in her fingers.

“How did you get to the kitchen?” she asked without taking her attention off her braid. When he didn’t answer she looked up at Link. He tossed his head toward the house. There, hanging from the bedroom window, blowing in the cool morning breeze, were two bed sheets tied together. Malon could not help but laugh. Her voice was clear and honest, and it made Link feel as if she didn’t hate him—not really.

Link tried to think of something that would make her happy. “Do you think we could go see Epona?” Link asked.

“I don’t rightly know,” said Malon. “She might be upset with you right now.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me…”

“Maybe. You’ll have to call her, though.”

Link looked at his boots. “I don’t have an ocarina…” he said disappointedly.

“Neither do I,” said Malon with a shrug. “How d’you think I call her?”

Link’s face turned hot against the cool air. “Yeah, but…well, you sing good.” When she smiled and looked at her braid again he realized she had taken this as a compliment.

“Maybe you could whistle,” she suggested. Link was beginning to believe that he was the only one in all of Hyrule who couldn’t whistle. When Malon saw Link hesitate she said, “You can whistle, cain’t you? You cain’t!” She was sincerely surprised.

He shrugged. “…maybe you could tell me how, I guess.”

“You just blow,” she said. “Like this.” And she whistled at one of the chickens in the yard. It ruffled its feathers and cocked its head. “You try.” Link was less successful; he just mimicked playing the ocarina.

“No, here,” said Malon, “like this.” She placed a palm on either side of his cheeks and pressed them together. The result was more comical than functional, and when Link tried to blow no sound came out. “Gah, I reckon I oughtta not try that right after breakfast.” Malon made a face, waving a hand in front of her

Link grimaced. “Oh, sorry,” he said. “Sausages.”

“Yeah, well, they smelled better on the plate.” They both laughed. “You got any more over there?”

“Sure,” he said, glad to hear her laugh again. “One fell on the ground, so…” he handed her the plate. “It isn’t all arranged fancy like yours…doesn’t look as nice, but…”

“That’s okay,” she said, reaching for an untouched sausage. “I burn more’n I eat, most times. Poppa does pritty good with flapjacks, but I reckon I give ‘im a fair shake.” She bit into one of the sausages and decided against eating the rest. “Cold anyhow,” she said setting it down. Then she grabbed Link’s hand and pulled him off the metal tub. “C’mon, let’s go see Epona. She might like you now.” Link thought this was the closest thing he would ever get to Malon accepting his apology. Even so, he was glad of it. For once in his life, he started to feel like he belonged somewhere.

* * *

“Something here does not belong,” said Impa as she scanned the crowds in the market with her red Sheikah eyes. “Do not look at them, child,” said Impa, quickening her pace through the streets.

“But why, Impa?” said Zelda, dutifully bowing her head.

“They are Gerudo thieves.”

Zelda turned her head only slightly to look at a figure out of the corner of her eye. It was a red-headed female, shrouded with brightly colored gauze and wearing ballooned pants, shoes with upturned toes and a veil over her face. The Hylian people wore attractive clothing, to be sure, but nothing as colorful or revealing as the desert-woman. She certainly stood out. The Gerudo woman also had round ears, whereas the Sheikahs and the Hylians both had pointed ears. She was talking to a flower merchant, and obviously getting on very well; the man who ran the stall pulled the most delicate and brightly colored of his flowers out of an arrangement and gave it to her. “But there is only one, Impa. What do you mean ‘they’?”

“There are more. She is their decoy. So long as she is the brightest thing in the crowd, the rest cannot be seen for what they are…” Impa guided the princess into an alley and ducked behind two barrels. “There, do you see?” she said, keeping her voice low. “The figure wearing the tattered brown cloth next to the corner stall; she is pretending the beggar with her bowl and picking the people’s pockets as they pass. And there, behind the cloth merchant—one is helping herself to Freya’s silks. A shame,” Impa added, noticing the pattern of the cloth. “I had my eye on that silk.”

Zelda saw the figures Impa had described, but she had not realized they were there until Impa had pointed them out. “But the beggar’s ears are pointed…” she contended.

“The Gerudo thieves are capable of many things, not the least of which is costume deception,” replied Impa. “The ears are fakes.”

Zelda had never thought of trying so hard to be something she was not—and so that she could steal from people, no less. “They should be stopped,” said Zelda, incredulously. “They should be punished.”

“And how would you stop them, young one? They would claim they were about their own business and make you the fool. No, child, there is no time for foolishness, today. Come,” she said, and continued down the alley until she came to the junction of another backstreet. Assuring there were no more thieves about, Impa escorted the princess out into the street. The buildings on either side loomed high over their heads; the shops and apartments intermingled with one another. Rarely a larger edifice would stand on its own, but these prestigious dwellings were always closely flanked on both sides by other, more homely buildings. There were few places for enemies to hide, but enough to keep Impa from slowing down. The mid-day sun winked through wisps of cloud.

In minutes they reached a humble building with a sign that bore an image of a mortar and pestle, and next to it was the image of a bottle with liquid in it. Standing outside were the Darknaughts; the king’s four bodyguards. They did not hinder Impa or Zelda.

Impa knelt beside the princess outside the door. “The doctor is working, now, so you must not distract him. Only speak to your father, but do not tax him. They still are not certain what manner of sickness this might be.”

Zelda wondered what had happened to her father. He had seemed fine the day before last when she tried to tell him about her dream. She hadn’t really spoken to him since then, except to say goodnight to him when he came to her room, as he did every night.

They entered the doctor’s office; a relatively clean, if sparsely furnished room. It had four or five divisions with plush mattresses on the floor for the patients and sitting pillows for the visitors. When Impa and Zelda entered the doctor poked his venerable head out from one of the divisions to see who it was. His large glasses made him seem to have eyes that were far too big for his head.

“What now!?” the doctor grumbled. Then he noticed who it was. “Oh, yes, I’ve just finished with him for now. I’ll attend to my other patient…but I must have more time with him. Very difficult, very difficult…” He waggled his head as he shuffled to the other side of the room where he kept his instruments behind one of the partitions. Zelda passed the first division, which was empty. In the second lay her father. He had been stripped of his usual kingly attire, instead wearing a long cotton nightshirt. Three layers of blankets had been pulled up to his belly. He was pale, and his head lolled back and forth. He was mumbling.

“…never should have let him in…”

“Daddy?” said Zelda, sitting on one of the pillows next to her father. Impa stood by. “Daddy, how do you feel?”

“Hmm?” said the king, looking at his daughter with wayward eyes. “How do I…? Here, let me…” The king tried to sit up, but looked to be having difficulty.

“No Daddy, don’t; you’re sick.” She gently held her father in place. Then she took one of the sitting pillows and propped his head with it. “Are you any better?”

“Yes, my love, thank you,” he said, closing his eyes dully. “I’m just a little sick, that’s all.” Impa could hear the doctor administering to the patient in the next division. She heard the soft clinking of glass bottles and the doctor mumbled something about “…all of it, yes…”

“Daddy, we took Link to the ranch yesterday. I saw Malon.”

“Oh, good…yes, how is the ranch?” His speech was slurred.

Zelda looked at her father with concern. “Malon wants to show me what she can do with Hossel. She said…” Little pools welled in her eyes. “Daddy, are you going to get better?” Impa heard the female patient groan and then say “…fine…” and then “…take it with me…”

“I’ll do my best, darling…” mumbled the king. “I know I didn’t get to say goodnight to you last night…” When Impa heard this, her eyes flew to the king.

“What do you mean, Daddy? You came in and said goodnight. You always do…” Then Impa sprang to the next partition, eyes wide. Laying there on the mattress was a Hylian woman wearing one of the doctor’s nightshirts. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She was arguing with the doctor in a low voice.

“No, I can just take it with me. I’m fine old man, now shush…” But then she noticed Impa watching her. “What do you want? Can’t a person get a little privacy?”

Impa did not look away from the woman as she spoke. “Doctor, how many patients have you seen since the king was admitted?”

The doctor released his grip on the small vial of red liquid in his hand. The woman held it where it was. “Oh, a steady stream, I’d say. There must be something going around…”

“How many of them have been female?”

“Oh, I don’t know…quite a few, I suppose. Here, now, what’s this about? I’m very busy.”

“Doctor, I wonder if there isn’t something you need to attend to in your study…some paperwork, perhaps.” Impa still stared at the woman. The woman calmly met her gaze.

“Not that I know of, young lady. See here, I’m very busy with my patients, I think it’s time that you left, anyhow…” The Hylian woman stretched and placed her hands behind her head.

“Impa, what’s going on?” asked Zelda. She had joined her nursemaid by the partition. Then, just when she thought Impa wasn’t looking, the Hylian woman slipped the vial of red liquid into her hair just behind her ponytail. Impa noticed, but did not let on.

“Finished visiting, have you? Good. I’ll get back to work, then. Difficult, very difficult…” The doctor shambled out of the space and in to the one next to it to see to the king again.

“I think I might be able to lighten your workload, doctor. One of your patients is about to check out.” And without warning Impa leapt upon the Hylian woman. In moments the woman’s hands were pinned beneath Impa’s knees. Then Impa had her hidden long-knife out of its sheath and at the woman’s neck. “Why was Ganondorf posing as the king of Hyrule last night?” Impa hissed. “Speak!”

The doctor thrust his head out from behind the partition. “See here, what’s this all about?” he said in an agitated squeal. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“You haven’t been treating patients this morning, doctor,” Impa said, never taking her eyes off her captive. “You’ve been entertaining spies…hasn’t he!?” she roared in the Hylian woman’s face.

The woman’s expression was one of loathing and disdain, but she did not speak. The doctor was aghast.

“Your ‘patients’ have been Gerudo thieves. And they have been eavesdropping on your work, maintaining the king’s poor health while your back was turned. Tell me, traitor,” Impa said, addressing the woman, “what poison your Lord Ganondorf administered to the king and I will let you live long enough to tell me why he was in the princess’ room last night impersonating His Majesty.” Her knife indented the flesh of the woman’s neck.

“Now, ladies, let’s just be calm,” the doctor said, shivering from nerves. “All my patients have been Hylian women; I pride myself on being able to see when I’m being hoodwinked.”

“Then you might want thicker glasses,” hissed Impa. “She’s no Hylian.” And with her free hand Impa pulled away what looked to Zelda to be two ears made of a flexible wax. As they came off the woman winced and her round ears were exposed. Both Zelda and the doctor gasped.

“Now talk,” said Impa, “or I’ll send you back to the desert without a tongue.” The woman was breathing heavily, but she did not move or speak. Impa pressed her weapon into the woman’s neck, threatening.

Then, the woman’s eyes flickered only marginally to one side. It was enough to warn Impa, however, who lay back, avoiding the swipe of a scimitar as it tore through the partition next to her. The king was still delirious on Impa’s other side. The doctor yelped, running out of his office screaming hysterically.

“Zelda, protect your father!” Impa yelled. Zelda obeyed, kneeling at the side of her father’s mattress—muttering words in an ancient language—and suddenly a prism of blue light surrounded the princess and the king.

Impa brought her head up and back down again on the forehead of her captive, knocking the Gerudo unconscious. The scimitar swiped through the partition at another angle, narrowly missing Impa’s shoulder. She rolled with the swing of the sword and pulled three small objects from her girdle, tossing them over the partition at her attacker. There were three flashes of light and a female cry from behind the partition. Impa took advantage of the moment to roll backward and get to her feet. Just then the partition shattered with a final, haphazard swipe of the scimitar, splinters and debris covering the body of the unconscious Gerudo ‘patient.’

For the first time Impa saw the wielder of the curved blade. She was dressed in dark, tight-fitting clothing, her red hair pulled back into a high ponytail, a dark veil covering her face. “How did you get past the king’s guard, traitor?” Impa hissed.

“It wasn’t difficult. They are naught but suits of armor. The true ‘Darknaughts’, as the Hylians say, are asleep in the dungeons; drugged. And before you speak of traitors, Sheikah wench, you should know your own.”

Impa was poised, considering her opponent. She knew the thief was stalling until she could regain her full eyesight. “Speak plainly, vagabond! Spit your venom.” Impa challenged. She brandished her long-knife. The king of Hyrule lay still on his mattress. Zelda watched her nursemaid from behind the protective prism.

“We Gerudo may have betrayed the pontificating coward to whom our king swore allegiance,” said the desert-thief, “but your people betrayed their own Master. Poor Mudora; murdered by his own servant.”

The words hit Impa like a hammer to an anvil. The woman was trying to catch her off guard. “Lies,” she challenged again. “Who among the Sheikah would betray their own Master?”

“Do you not know, Impa of the Sheikah?” Impa was astonished to find that this thief knew her name. The Gerudo woman stepped slowly and deliberately toward the Sheikah, who was poised and tense. “Yes, nursemaid, I know you. I know how you loved Mudora as your own father. I know how you would sneak away glances of his writings, even though you knew you were not allowed. I know how your curiosity got you sent away to be a brat’s nursemaid. I know how you hated your brother for becoming Mudora’s servant instead of you. I know how you resented him for being favored more than you. Oh, yes, Impa. It was your brother who killed Mudora. You should be more careful whom you call traitor when you have one in the family…” She was standing very close to Impa, now. Her sword was at her side; passive. Impa’s knife came up to the Gerudo’s neck.

Impa knew she was in a very dangerous position, but she wanted the Gerudo woman to keep talking. “How…how do you know this?” she asked, steeling herself, reinforcing her will to not allow this thief to take advantage of her. “My brother has been missing for over ten years.”

The Gerudo woman leaned forward, her eyes meeting Impa’s. She whispered: “because I have been with him these past ten years…”

Indignation! The shame she suggested! A furious anger rose inside Impa’s throat, almost breaking her will to control it. Impa would have slit the Gerudo’s neck if a Hylian soldier did not open the door at that very moment. Then there was a flash of white and when Impa turned the Dark Gerudo was gone.

“Mistress Impa!” said the soldier, saluting. “The doctor alerted us. Where is the disturbance?” Other soldiers were filing in behind the first.

Impa ignored him entirely. “Zelda, come. We must leave. Now!”

“But my father…” she protested. The protective prism vanished.

Impa turned to the first soldier. “Detain and gag the woman. You will guard the king at all costs. None are to enter unless you are given orders to the contrary by the Captain of the Royal Guard himself. You are now the ‘castle walls.’ If the king fails, Hyrule fails. You,” said Impa, addressing the last soldier, “find the Captain. Tell him Gerudo thieves are seizing the town and soon they will arrive at the castle. Go. Now!” The soldier bowed, turned and was gone. “Come, child. We’ve no time. Come!” she said, grabbing Zelda by the hand.

* * *

Impa led Zelda through every backstreet she knew, always wending toward the castle. Around them there were sounds of pandemonium. From down the side-streets the merchants of the market could be heard hollering to each other in dismay. Faintly, Zelda could hear the singing of steel on steel and Hylian voices shouting orders. "What's going on, Impa?" Zelda asked her hurried nursemaid, but Impa was steel-faced and resolute and she did not answer.

In what seemed like hours they reached the main courtyard of the town. Soldiers were filing out of the north gate in dozens. They jogged toward the southern entrance to the city, their spears in hand. People emerged from the shops in alarm to see what the commotion was about. "Stay calm," Zelda could hear one of the soldiers say. "Just return to your homes. Leave this to us..." Quickly, while everyine else's attention was directed elsewhere, Impa led Zelda in through the north gate of the town.

"He is drawing them away from the castle..." said Impa, as if to herself.

"Who is, Impa?" Zelda asked, still alarmed by her nursemaid's haste and relative silence. Only when they came into view of the main castle gate did she speak.

Impa gasped. "He is leaving us defenseless..." she muttered. Impa took them past the empty post of the gate guard around the extreme perimeter of the castle to one of the castle's few hidden back entrances, near the waterway surrounding the castle.

Zelda stopped, out of breath. “Impa, what are we doing?!” she said, leaning against the stone wall next to the hidden entrance. It was concealed by a mat of vines. Impa scanned the perimeter and drew the vines away from the wall. “Impa, what’s going on!?”

“Do not speak, child. Follow me, now.” Impa ducked inside. Zelda threw up her hands and followed her nursemaid, letting the vines drop behind her.

Impa led her up staircases, inside low horizontal shafts, and through the narrow spaces between walls. Zelda could not tell where they were going, but in moments she recognized the hallway that led to her bedroom through a thin break in the wall. Impa pushed against the wall and it opened like a door. They stepped out into the hallway, Impa always scanning the area ahead.

“What are we doing, Impa…?” Zelda whispered.

Impa silenced the princess with a finger to her lips. She made the signal for intruder using the hand signs the Sheikah had taught none but the Royal Family and the Knights of Hyrule. ‘There is someone in your bedroom,’ Impa explained, still using the hand signs.

Impa’s communication was confirmed when Zelda heard the sounds of shifting furniture coming from her room, two doors away. The candles on the walls were unlit, the only light coming from the windows inside Zelda’s bedroom. A square of dim daylight spilled into the hallway from the open door.

As the two crept toward the door, the sounds coming from the bedroom became louder. There was a poof! as of the sound of pillows being thrown, the clinking of trinkets, the sliding of drawers. Then Impa edged one eye around the corner. There, black against the light from the window, was the figure of a man with round ears. The figure suddenly froze. Impa quickly drew back from the door, and then she saw the shadow of the man lengthen across the floor of the hallway, stopping short of revealing the man from which it was cast.

Impa held Zelda tightly in her arms, pressing her hand over the princess’ mouth. Zelda was wide-eyed and frantic. Seconds seemed like minutes, but the shadow did not move even the least. Then the light coming from the window darkened and the shadow vanished as the world went black. Immediately Impa was around the doorframe with her knife drawn, ready to attack.

But there was no one there.

The window was open, the curtains blowing languidly in the breeze. And outside the window was darkness…an unnatural night claiming the sky hours before it was due. Not even the stars could be seen. This was powerful magic.

Zelda’s scream came from the hallway. Too late, Impa rushed into the hallway, lighting a small globe of fire before her to shed light where she went…but nothing. The princess was gone. Then Zelda screamed again, the sound quickly diminishing, as if she were falling. Impa ran to catch the sound.

The nursemaid rushed to the staircase leading to the lower floors. Far below she saw the form of the dark man as he landed on the marble floor three flights down, apparently unharmed. The princess was in his clutches.

Bypassing the steps entirely, Impa leaped from the railing out to the chandelier. The stairs spiraled down below her in ever tightening circles. Impa acted quickly, pulling her body up into a ball, and then releasing her grip on the chandelier. She fell two stories and then disappeared in a puff of thin gray smoke, reappearing on the ground floor supported by three limbs. When the globe of fire caught up to her she snuffed it out; the way was already illuminated by small green globes of light.

The princess had left her a trail.

* * *

The Sages of Hyrule were gathered in the Inner Sanctum of the Temple. The stained-glass windows glowed dully in the cloudy late-afternoon. “Are we clear, then?” said Zethra.

“Only if Aako can do as he says,” growled Gor Darmon.

“Can,” said Aako confidently.

“Will you have enough time to do as Impa requested, Rauru?” asked Lutai.

“We shall see,” said Rauru, “if the Goddess of Time will smile down on us.”

Just then the Captain burst through the doors of the Inner Sanctum. “Ganondorf has made his move,” he said, nearly out of breath. “The thieves are attacking the town. He could invade the Temple at any moment.” And at that moment the windows darkened, overcast with unnatural night.

The Sages stood up from their chairs. “Places, everyone,” said Rauru. “May Din preserve us.”

* * *

Link and Malon looked north over Hyrule field. The sky had become unnaturally dark as they were riding around the borders of the ranch. Link halted Epona, Malon held her foal still.

“What d’you reckon that is?” said Malon, incredulous.

“A storm?” suggested Link, playing dumb. “I may have to go to Zora’s Domain tomorrow, instead.”

“That don’t look like a storm t’me,” she responded. “We best git back inside.”

And they turned their horses around, riding at a full gallop toward the ranch.

* * *

The trail of green light had led Impa to the stables. There was no other exit, which meant that the princess had to be inside. But where was the Gerudo lord?

Suddenly a flash of purple crackled past Impa’s head and exploded somewhere behind her. It came from somewhere in the stables. A dark voice called out from inside: “Come down, little princess and I promise I won’t hurt you…just tell me where you hid the instrument.”

“No!” came Zelda voice. A ball of red flame sprang to life before her, illuminating her face and body. She was standing on one of the crossbeams, surrounded by a blue prism. Then Zelda threw the ball of fire toward one of the stalls. Instead of exploding, the fire dissipated, but not before giving Impa a glimpse of the man; it was the Gerudo lord. “You hurt Brynn!” Zelda cried.

“I did nothing, brat,” replied the Gerudo man. “Your horse was too stupid to move out of my way.”

“She was protecting me!”

“She was foolish to test me…much like you. Now tell me where the instrument is hidden!” and he threw another crackling bolt of purple. Like the first it ricocheted off the blue prism and flew away, past Impa. The prism fluctuated, weakening. “Does the protection of your Goddess wane? It seems she does not love you as much as you thought,” sneered the man.

Impa crept to one side of the stables, climbing the edge of the horse’s pens. The horses were spooked, stamping and chomping their teeth nervously. Impa took advantage of the noise to hide her approach. She was close to the Gerudo lord; very close, now. He was sitting on a dark horse, the stall open. In the next stall over was Brynn, obviously dazed, tossing languidly in the hay of her pen. In a moment Impa would have her knife to the Gerudo lord’s his neck, and then…

But the Gerudo lord acted first. A flash of purple hit the beam on which the princess was standing and Impa watched as the beam shattered. Zelda teetered, lost her footing, and fell. In that same moment Impa jumped on the Lord of the Gerudo, planted her feet firmly on his shoulders and pushed herself toward the princess. The Gerudo man was thrown from his horse. Impa flew forward, catching Zelda in the air. Then they both disappeared with a puff!

Once the Gerudo lord recovered, he looked around rapidly. Then he froze. “Come out, nursemaid!” he said, mocking. “Show yourself!” When there was no response, he led his dark steed forward a few paces. “Tell me, nursemaid; do you wish to see your brother again? He is here, you know…in the town. You may see him if you like…if you will join him as my servant. At least you would not be the first traitor in your family…”

And with this a ball of red fire leapt out from the darkness of Asphodel’s pen, striking the Gerudo lord in the face.

“I would never serve you, cursed interloper!” cried Impa. “Return to your false Gods!” The door to Asphodel’s pen flew open, and the white steed galloped out of the stables. In moments, the Gerudo lord recovered and was on his dark horse, pursuing the princess and her nursemaid through the streets.