Gods of Shadow (T)

Greetings and salutations indeed!

Once again, I am contacting you via Gossip Stone to relay the latest and greatest of the happenings in Hyrule! Shad would like you to know that we are well situated in our little rooms in the second storey of Hyrule Castle itself! Egad, the utter jubilation! I am pleased to report that our environs have greatly improved our ability to articulate the tale as we have discovered it and we hope you enjoy the more cozy description of Hyrule's fair lands. Forthwith the journey proper shall commence, but until then please enjoy this short interlude to tide you over.

Also, for those who have not yet heard the first portion of our tale, please refer to the first three episodes!

Dearly and dutifully,

The Hero of Geeks
(and Shad; Historian of Hyrule and Cohort in Confundities)



Interlude: Part I
GATHERING CLOUDS

“…and then Rauru just disappeared.” Link snapped his fingers. “Like that!” He shook his head in frustration.

“I can understand why you didn’t want to talk about it last night,” said Afton sympathetically. He and Link were in Afton’s room in the barracks of Hyrule Castle. Link had spent the night in Afton’s bed, not feeling ready to sleep in his father’s bed just yet. Afton had slept on the floor next to Link.

The knight’s barracks was housed under the castle. The rooms were small but comfortable, the only natural light coming from a thin arched window near the ceiling. Each knight had his own room furnished with a bed, chair, closet, hand-washing basin and a large steel mirror. Afton had taken advantage of the time he had with Link to explain the finer points of the law enforcement system of Hyrule. Because of their need to be ready at a moment’s notice, the knights lived on the castle grounds while the soldiers of Hyrule lived in their own residences in the Town. Knights were provided for by the Hylian royal family while soldiers earned a wage. Many of the knights had just returned from various assignments the day before so as to be ready for the tournament later that day. The Darknaughts operated out of the barracks but lived in the caslte to better protect the king.

Link had fled the Temple of Time the night previous and was venting his frustration with the Sage of Light’s reticence over breakfast. Presently, Afton stood from the floor with his empty porridge bowl.

“Are you finished?” Afton motioned to take Link’s bowl.

Link looked at its half-eaten contents and frowned. “Yeah, I guess I can see why you liked the royal treatment at the inn,” he said handing Afton the dish. “Thanks.”

“Oh, we get used to the mush around here. They have it available for us but most of the time we’re abroad living on rations, so it actually doesn’t seem that bad once you get used to it.” Afton nested Link’s bowl in his own and carried them to the hand-washing basin. “So what makes you so interested in this knight’s grave, anyway?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Link said. When Afton and Link had first met, Link had told him that he owned a Hylian shield once. When Afton asked where he got it Link had lied, saying he bought it from the market, so that Afton wouldn’t think he was a thief. In truth, Link had found it in the grave of this mysterious knight. The shield was long gone, now—locked away with his other self in the Sacred Realm—but the lie still remained. Link wasn’t sure how to tell Afton he hadn’t been truthful in the first place. It didn’t seem like a big thing; all the same it was hard to come up with the words. “His gravestone looked important… I guess I just really wanted to know who he was.” It felt like a feeble response, but at least it was truthful.

“It’s funny you mention knights,” said Afton opening the closet. “Because I have something for you.” Link couldn’t see what it was, but it looked big by the way Afton was reaching for it. “I was going to wait for your birthday, but I thought you might want it for the tournament—go on, now, close your eyes…” Link obeyed. He had never had a birthday before, much less a birthday present, so his heart positively fluttered with anticipation. “Alright, then, open them.”

Link’s eyes widened when he saw it. Before him on the bed was what looked like a very old shield made of good, solid wood with steel fittings. The decoration on the shield loosely resembled the pattern of the Hylian shields the modern knights carried, but had a more antiquated feel.

“It used to be Colin’s from when he had just barely become a knight,” said Afton. “This was his first Hylian shield. I thought it would be appropriate that you have it. Now that you’re in need of a shield that is…”

“This was my dad’s?” Link stared at it in wonder. It was like he was discovering some buried part of himself that he never knew was there. Link slipped his arm into the straps reverently. They were a little loose.

“You might have to tighten them,” Afton said, reaching out to help Link.

Link held out his hand. “No!” he said quickly. Afton stopped. “I just want to hold it for a second.”

“You look good with it,” Afton said, smiling. “Just like you’re dad.”

“Yeah?” Link slipped the shield off his arm again and admired it. “Thanks, Afton,” he said, smiling. “This is really great.”

“Care to get some practice in?”

Link’s heart leapt: Afton still needed to teach him the hidden techniques! “Yeah!” But then his face fell. “But won’t it get damaged?” He held the shield close to his body protectively.

Afton kneeled before Link. “Link, do you remember what I told you about a knight’s shield?”

Link recalled all too well. It was right after he had lied to Afton about where his Hylian shield had come from. Suddenly he felt horrible, unworthy. “Afton, I should tell you something…” he said, meekly.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember, Link…” he said.

“It’s not that, Afton, it’s just…” but Link still could not come up with the right words to say it. Hey Afton, remember that one time when I told you I bought my shield in the market? Well, I lied… Nothing sounded right in his head. And now Afton was expecting him to say something… “Could you tell me about a knight’s shield again?” he said finally.

“Sure, Link,” Afton smiled. “A knight keeps his shield for the length of his service. If it is damaged he repairs it as a symbol of his constant vigilance and oath to protect the Royal Family and to serve the Goddesses. There’s no dishonor in allowing your shield to become damaged. It’s there to protect you. There is only dishonor in allowing it to go unrepaired. Do you understand, Link?”

Afton’s sincerity only made Link feel worse. “Yeah,” he said.

Afton looked at Link with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay, Link? I thought this would make you happy…”

“Yeah…” said Link, his happiness fighting a losing battle with his guilt. Presently there was a knock at the door.

Afton didn’t move. “You can talk to me, Link. If there’s something you need to say, you can. Just tell me when you’re ready, alright?” Link felt his face get hot. He nodded. Afton smiled kindly.

There was another knock at the door. Afton rose to answer it. Link heard a low voice coming from the hallway of the barracks. Link covered his face and breathed in deeply. Where was Impa’s discipline when he needed it?

“They’re in the western courtyard now?” he heard Afton say. The low voice said something else and then Afton said “thank you” and closed the door.

Afton mercifully waited a moment before turning around. Link hurriedly wiped his nose on his arm. His eyes stung. Link decided he would rather be doing anything else at the moment. He was sure Afton was waiting for him to speak.

“Who was that?” he asked, just barely composed.

“They’re ready,” said Afton, turning. “Maybe I’ll teach you some more signs and tell you about them on the way.”

* * *

“Roll, Link…Right! Right!!”

Link raised his new shield above his head just in time to block a huge saber. The heavily armored knight pressed his weapon more firmly on the shield, straining Link’s strength. Two other Darknaughts loomed in front of him brandishing their massive weapons; one an axe and one a mace. That made three; where was the fourth?

“Good! Now: back slice! Left!”

Link heaved his shield to one side and rolled to the ground, circling the knight and springing up behind him. As he rose, Link drew his gilded sword up along the Darknaught’s back, cutting the laces that held his armor together. Then Link planted his shield against the knight’s backside and shoved. The knight stumbled forward, his pauldrons falling from his shoulders.

“Behind you, Link. Shield attack!”

That’s where the other one had gone, Link thought. He spun around, ramming his shield into the Darknaught looming behind him. The knight staggered back, stunned. His wide double-edged sword swung wildly, causing the knight to throw out his shield arm for balance.

“Helm splitter! Helm…”

But Link had already gripped the collar of the knight’s armor and planted his feet on the breastplate. Flipping over the knight, Link slashed at his helmet. The helmet flew off of the knight’s head, smacking one of the other knights in the arm. Link landed on one foot and for a moment thought his ankle would give way, but throwing grace to the wind he turned into the fall and landed on his shield instead. For a moment the air was knocked out of him.

“Bravo!” called Afton, descending the stairs from the lookout platform in the castle’s western courtyard. “You’d have given your father a run for his money. You’ll have to work on that dismount, though.” The courtyard was strewn with pieces of armor, all detached from their owners by Link in some form or fashion. The training exercise was going very well.

Link stood, regaining his breath. “You kept interrupting my rhythm, shouting commands like that!” Link hollered. But he smiled nonetheless; the exercise had greatly improved his mood. Afton approached one of the Darknaughts and began speaking with him. Link retrieved a helmet from the ground, handing it back to its owner. Like each of the Darknaughts, the knight was broad-chested and stood a head taller than most men.

“Thank you for the workout,” the knight said in a deep bass voice, still breathing heavily. He made the hand sign for ‘gratitude.’ “With the king under the care of the Sheikah until he is well again we have had little to do but gate duty. It has been most…refreshing. I am Ameth Nohansen.” He extended his hand.

Link made the sign for ‘honor.’ “My pleasure,” he said, shifting his new shield to his back. He shook the knight’s enormous gauntlet. “I’m Link. You four really are the strongest opponents I’ve faced—except Ganon, maybe. You’d definitely give a quartet of Iron Knuckles a fair fight.” The other Darknaughts were gathering up their strewn armor. Link noticed now that their armor had tracery of Hylian symbols around the edges of each piece. The tracery was a different color for each knight—one was red, one green and one blue. Ameth had tracery of a brilliant violet.

“I would like you to meet my brothers, Link,” said Ameth. “Oy, Meryl!” he shouted at one of the other Darknaughts. The knight with green tracery stepped forward, removing his helmet. His shoulder-length blonde hair was knotted behind his head in a tight ball.

“You have good aim with helmets, young Master,” said Meryl. It was he that had lost his shoulder-pieces. He must have taken the helmet to his bare arm.

“Sorry about that,” said Link abashedly, shaking Meryl’s extended hand.

Meryl chuckled. “It is well, friend. We wear so much armor I did not feel anything,” he said, smacking his shoulder. He pulled back the sleeve of his green tunic to reveal the interlocking rings of a chain shirt. “You perhaps were in more danger than we, though your superior agility served you well.”

“Thanks,” said Link modestly. At the same time there was a cough from behind Meryl. Stepping to the side, Meryl revealed another knight that could have been his double except that his hair was a little longer and unrestrained. He was no longer wearing his blue-traced armor—Link had caught him from behind early in the fight and it had all fallen off. His arms and legs were covered in chain mail and he wore a blue tunic. He tucked his hair behind his pointed ears with an expectant look at Meryl.

“Link, this is Saphael, my twin brother,” said Meryl, rolling his eyes.

“Meryl thinks that being born first means he gets to do everything before I do. A pleasure, Master Hero,” said Saphael, bowing. Swinging from Saphael’s neck was a pendant in a silver frame. Within the frame was a clear blue stone the size of a small egg. Saphael must have noticed Link admiring the jewel, for when he stood straight again he tucked the pendant inside his tunic and folded his arms. “And that’s Rubeus,” said Saphael, pointing his thumb at the final Darknaught; he was surrounded by a discarded pile of red-traced armor. Rubeus folded his thick arms and turned away, shaking his head. “He’s the oldest ‘cause he’s grumpy,” said Sapphael. Then he turned to Meryl in mock confusion. “…or is it the other way around?”

Link smiled at this. “Nice to meet you all.”

Afton came over from talking to Rubeus. “Have you all met well?”

“All except Rubeus, I guess,” said Link. “He seems a little put out.”

Afton feigned picking something up from the ground. “I think you hurt his pride when you disarmed him…” he said quietly.

Saphael made no effort to conceal a whole-hearted laugh. Then a huge mace flew from Rubeus’ direction and would have hit Saphael in the face if he hadn’t feinted back just in time. “Watch where you’re throwing that thing, blockhead!” Saphael hollered. He charged his brother with indignation.

“Saphael and Rubeus don’t always get along,” Ameth said pointedly. Then he noticed his brothers were wrestling on the ground. One of Rubeus’ thick arms was wrapped around Saphael’s neck.

“Hey!” hollered Afton. “Let him go! That’s an order!” Afton pulled the two away from each other. “How old do you think you are? Saphael, three demerits.” Saphael tucked his hair behind his ears and folded his arms defiantly. Afton rounded on Rubeus. “I’ll speak to you after the tournament.” Rubeus stormed off, kicking his pile of armor on the way.

“He threw his mace at me!” challenged Saphael.

Afton shoved his finger into Saphael’s chest. “And I expect you not to provoke him! By the Goddesses…!” Afton continued to lecture him.

“Do you feel you are ready for the tournament, Master Link?” asked Ameth, changing the subject directly.

“Well, I’ll feel a lot better when it’s over…if I win, I guess.”

“Yes,” said Ameth. “I suppose you have a lot to live up to…” Meryl’s eyes widened warningly. “But I’m sure you’ll do fine…I’ll just go help get the others ready for the tournament.”

“…and tell him you’re sorry!” Afton finished.

“Yes, sir.” Saphael said meekly. He unfolded his arms and joined Ameth on his way out. Ameth put an arm around Saphael’s shoulder but Saphael jerked away.

Link watched them leave. “Will I have to deal with this when I’m…” he said, trailing off.

“I don’t know,” said Afton, still mildly upset. “This is really strange. Rubeus and Saphael have never gotten along, but they’re never usually this violent about it.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair.

Meryl cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to say anything, Lieutenant, but I did notice them bickering earlier.”

Afton’s brows came together. “What about?” he asked.

“It was a simple disagreement in the mess hall, but then it escalated into a brawl. I thought they might be reacting to the captain’s passing, Faroe rest him. I didn’t say anything…”

“You’ve done the right thing to tell me. This is disturbing news.” Afton thought a moment. “How are the other knights reacting to the captain’s passing?”

“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” said Meryl. “I only know that where Saphael and Rubeus didn’t get along before, now they’re at each other’s throats. I thought Hinton was a little off too, but then that might just be Hinton.”

“I see. Keep me informed, will you Meryl?”

“Yes, sir. We’ll be ready for the tournament; I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you, Meryl. And well fought today!” Afton called as Meryl jogged away.

“We’d better get ready, too,” said Afton. “The tournament’s only a couple of hours away.”

They passed through a high archway into the southern courtyard. It was decorated with well-manicured shrubs and a central stone sculpture with three triangles at its height. To their left were the huge wooden double-doors leading into the castle, and on their right were the even larger double doors leading to the bridge and, ultimately, Castle Town. But Link and his uncle were headed to the eastern courtyard where they would gain access to the barracks.

Afton noticed that Link was staring at the ground. “Are you nervous about the tournament?”

“How’s that?” said Link, being pulled from his daze. “Oh. Well, not really. I mean I’ve taken on worse things, I guess…” He trailed off.

“Is the shield serving you well?” asked Afton conversationally.

“Yeah, it’s really great. Thanks…” Link let the shield off his back and admired it for what seemed like the fiftieth time today. He was glad he had lost his mirrored shield, in a way—if he hadn’t, he might not have gained this one; a constant reminder of his father. He really was very grateful to Afton for giving it to him. When he used it, he imagined his father was protecting him… The spar with the Darknaughts had helped him forget his guilt from earlier, but now he remembered it and felt his stomach turn over. It just didn’t feel right that Afton had the wrong impression about how he got his first shield. But he couldn’t just say he robbed a grave…

As they entered the eastern courtyard, there was a poof! and suddenly a very thin grey-clad man appeared before them. Link cried out in alarm. He was so startled that he stumbled backward and landed in one of the shrubs. Afton helped him remove himself and handed Link his shield again.

“Hey, what’s going on…?” said Link as he brushed leaves from his tunic. Grey and white swaths of clothing covered every inch of the man’s body with the sole exception of his hands and eyes. Over his chest was a tattered flap of cloth that bore the Sheikah symbol of an eye with a single tear. This was nothing especially unusual, but when Link looked his attention was immediately drawn to the man’s stunningly red eyes. The moment he saw them Link felt his stomach turn over again and somehow he was certain that the man knew he had not been completely truthful with Afton. And now—overcome with intense guilt—Link found he could not move, holding his shield in both hands.

I am sorry to have alarmed you, said a voice in Link’s head. The princess wishes you to meet her. Take this. The Sheik hung a pendant around Link’s neck. The pendant bore a small grey stone. Then as quickly as the Sheik had appeared there was another poof! and he was gone, leaving behind tendrils of smoke whirling in the air.

The moment the Sheik’s eyes ceased to see into his own Link was released of his paralysis. Slowly his stomach seemed to find its rightful place again. Only then did Link realize that Afton had been completely silent through the entire encounter. Afton was staring blankly at the ground.

“Afton?” said Link, reaching out to touch Afton’s shoulder. He didn’t respond. “Afton!” Link shook his uncle.

“What?” barked Afton. Link jumped again. “Oh, Link…Link, I’m sorry. I…” he trailed off. Afton looked like he was fighting the urge to be sick. Then he seemed to compose himself. “Yes, I…I hate it when they do that.”

“What was that?” said Link, visibly shaken.

“That was a Sheik; protectors of the queen and therefore Princess Zelda now that she is queen incumbent. They can pierce the mind of those who look into their eyes, uncovering all of a person’s secrets. They can also communicate telepathically…”

“So that’s what you call it…” said Link, the experience still vivid.

Afton looked at Link, comprehending. “What did he say?” Afton vaguely noticed that the sky was becoming darker.

“He said I was supposed to meet with Zelda.” Link reached down to the grey stone that now hung around his neck. The moment he touched it Link felt a presence enter his mind.

Link? said a voice. Link thought it might be female. Link? Can you hear me?

The first thought that entered Link’s mind was a distressed yes!

Link! This is Zelda; listen, there’s something wrong. I’m coming back from Kakariko and I need you to meet me inside the castle. Come quickly!

I’m here…I’m in the courtyard, thought Link.

Good, said Zelda’s voice. I’ll be there soon. Link felt the presence leave his mind.

“What is it?” asked Afton, looking worried. Clouds were blocking out the sun, now.

“I don’t know. It was Zelda. She sounded scared. She’s coming to meet me.”

The dark clouds were thickening quickly. Afton glanced at the sky warily. Then he seemed to come to a realization. “Set the darkness at naught…” he mumbled.

“What was that?” said Link.

Afton looked at his nephew with something in his eyes… Was it fear, maybe…? “Listen Link, something’s wrong and I think it has something to do with that thief who stole your shield.”

“How do you mean?”

“Do you remember what the Book of Mudora said about the Image of Evil?”

Link did his best to remember. “It said it would come behind the Hero, I think.”

“No, Link, it said at his back. But it seemed like Tobias was having trouble with the translation—he might have gotten it wrong. What if it was supposed to be on his back?” Afton let this suggestion sink in.

Link’s eyes widened. “Then it could have been the shield.” He snapped his fingers. “Afton, maybe they’ve always gotten it wrong…they would never think that it was a shield—just that it came from behind.”

“It makes sense. The shield is a mirror, right? It reflects what looks into it. So if the Hero has the shield on his back and the Great Evil is coming behind the Hero then the Evil can see itself in the mirror—Evil’s image.”

Link suddenly felt like he always did just as he solved a puzzle. “Rauru said the warrior’s shield could split a person in two; one good half, one evil…it’s like a mirror, where there are two of you; one is the reverse of the other…” Lighting streaked across the sky. “But Afton, I don’t understand…why would the shield have ended up in Termina? It’s…” Link stopped.

Afton hung on Link’s words. “It’s…what?”

“…so far away…” Link lied. It would sound crazy tell Afton he had gone to another dimension. It would sound like he was making it all up. He didn’t know whether Afton would believe him…

“You never know, Link. Sometimes things can find their way into places you’d never expect. All I know is something is causing the knights to bicker and fight with each other. Evil shall have power to divide the nation asunder, remember?” said Afton becoming animated.

Then Link recalled the words of the prophecy. “…and even the Hero shall be…”

“Link!” came Zelda’s voice from the castle’s main doors. It began to rain.

Link became frantic. “Afton, what am I supposed to do? I’ve lost the shield! I’ve lost it; it’s my fault!”

“You didn’t know what it was, Link. You couldn’t have known…”

“But what should I tell Zelda?”

“Tell her when the time is right. We don’t know anything for sure. Just help her with what she needs and if it comes up tell her then. I’m going to go make sure the knights are ready,” said Afton. “I have a feeling we’ll need them.”

“Okay, okay…” Link slung his shield to his back. Then Afton turned away and Link suddenly had a feeling of foreboding. “Afton!” He stopped.

“What is it, Link?” Afton said, concerned.

The impression had been so immediate that Link didn’t know whether he had made it up. “I…I think I need to tell you something,” he said.

“Link!” came Zelda’s voice again. “Link where are you?”

“Don’t worry, Link—the Goddesses will be with us. I’ll see you soon; you can tell me then.” He jogged away toward the barracks. “Just protect Zelda!” he hollered behind him. Then he passed under an archway and was gone. Link took in one deep breath and turned around.

Zelda was in the southern courtyard looking around in all directions. Her yellow hair was plastered to her face and her dress was soaked with rain. “Link!” she called, seeing him. “I’m so glad you came.” Link noticed that a Sheik stood by castle’s double doors.

“What’s going on?” said Link.

“I need your help, Link,” she said taking his hand. “Come with me…” Zelda led him across the courtyard and through the castle’s main doors, passing the Sheik standing guard. Link bowed his head under the Sheik’s unerring gaze.

Link had seen a good deal of the castle, but he never imagined just how many rooms there were. Zelda took him back to the rear of the castle where there was a single door made of ancient wooden planks bound by wrought iron braces Zelda pulled a key from somewhere on her person and turned it in the lock. The Sheik stood to one side of the doorway.

“Stay here, Guin,” said Zelda, and with no more words she ushered Link into a dark winding staircase, shutting the door behind her and locking it. The next moment there was the flare of fire and a round flickering orb sprang to life, hovering in the air over Zelda’s hand.

“Hey, I used to be able to do that,” Link said, recognizing the spell.

Zelda whispered a single unintelligible word and the fire leapt away, bobbing over their heads and then prancing from one torch to the next along the sloping wall of the stairwell. Their way was lit down into the darkness. Zelda cast Link a tentative glance.

“Okay, so you’ve got me there.”

Thunder boomed outside. Zelda caught sight of the roiling clouds through a thin arched window high above them. “Let’s go; we need to hurry.”

It must have been one or two levels down that Link saw anything besides torches and stone wall. Ostensibly the only reason to come down this stairwell was to access the ancient wooden door that now stood before them. It was no more extraordinary than the door that admitted them into the stairwell, but Link had a sense of foreboding about the place and from behind the door came a charged feeling that made his hair stand on end.

Zelda removed the key again and fit it into the lock. She turned to Link with a meaningful look. He pulled his shield to his arm and placed one hand on the hilt of his gilded sword. He nodded and Zelda turned the key.

Behind the door was a large, dimly lit circular space. On the floor, six cold crystals glowed with faintly colored lights that throbbed languidly in unison, as if some spirit inside them was sleeping. Three tall narrow windows high on the lefthand wall permitted the occasional flash of lightning to slash across the floor. By this light Link caught sight of a circular symbol carved into the floor’s central flagstone that looked vaguely like a bird. Link recognized the symbol from his father’s shield.

“What is this place?” he said.

Zelda turned to face the empty room. “It’s alright, you can show yourselves,” she said to the air. There was a flash of lightning outside the windows followed immediately by a crack of thunder and the next moment there were six young girls surrounding the central flagstone where there had been nothing before. Each of them looked to be Zelda’s age and were dressed in gowns of an older style. “Link these are the Maidens. A long time ago they were kidnapped by an evil sorcerer and now they guard the entrance to his prison. They have kept watch over the seal on the place for many years. Because of the magic that binds them to the Sanctuary, so long as they remain here they never age. I have come here because I need to check the seal to be sure that it still holds…”

“Holds what?” said Link, trying to follow all of this.

Zelda turned to Link. “Listen, Link. I will explain everything, but I need you to protect me. Something may go wrong and I need to know that you will keep me from harm.”

This did nothing to settle Link’s nerves, but he had a feeling, as he often did, that things would work out. “Okay, but…”

“Just listen. A long time ago an evil sorcerer named Vaati tried to take the Light Force from the princess of Hyrule so he could take over. He would have done it but a young boy defeated him using the Four Sword. The Four Sword divides the person who wields it into four separate versions of himself…”

Link was astonished. The words of the prophecy repeated themselves in his head: ‘and even the Hero shall be divided, and shall be as many.’

Zelda continued: “Once the sorcerer was defeated he was sealed inside the sword and imprisoned in the Sanctuary where the sword is kept. Because I am a descendant of the princess, I can sense when the seal is weakening. If the seal weakens, Vaati could escape. That’s why I need to go into the Sanctuary. Will you come with me?”

Link did not understand all of this but he knew that whatever the danger he would be willing to do anything to keep Zelda safe. He drew his gilded sword. “Yes. I’m ready,” he said.

“Good. Thank you, Link.” Zelda withdrew an egg-sized crystal from a pocket in her dress and placed it near the central flagstone. Then she addressed the Maidens. “Let the Sanctuary be opened.” Zelda and the Maidens acted in concert; pressing their palms together, bowing their heads. All at once a flower of light bloomed into life on the flagstone, casting eight shadows on the walls. One petal of light after another formed, grew and folded backward with increasing speed. The effect was both beautiful and mesmerizing.

Then there was a cackle behind Link and he turned. No one was there. His brows came together as he looked at the wall, lit up by the intense light.

Where was his shadow?

* * *

Two weeks ago the people had welcomed their captain, their king and their queen to the tournament with cheers and loud voices. But when Ganondorf had arrived at the city gates the people were filled with shock and alarm and the tournament had been postponed until further notice. In a matter of days Ganondorf had wrought his evil scheme and found himself at the entrance of the Golden Land, but the Sages had stopped him from achieving his desire. That evening the news had spread: the queen and her captain had perished at the dastard’s hand. The King had been poisoned and was in failing health.

Now the people of Hyrule were awaiting the Tournament with a different attitude. The town’s central courtyard looked much as it had two weeks previous. Townspeople were sitting at the tables of the street café, leaning out over the ledges of their stone balconies, or huddling in groups near the shop awnings. Street performers sang, jugglers juggled, and mothers chased their children, but most of the citizens of Hyrule were overshadowed by a sense of loss. Conversations turned to who the next Captain of the Royal Guard might be, how well the princess might rule without her nursemaid to hold her hand, and whether the king would ever recover. Even the soldiers stationed at every gate slumped for melancholy, their spears leaning heavily on their shoulders.

Suddenly, dark clouds gathered over the Town’s central courtyard. In moments full thunderheads formed and lightning shot angrily from one cloud to another. People stared in wonder and fear. Many ran into the nearest buildings, taking shelter from great sheets of water that began to fall; as if the Goddesses themselves were weeping and would not be comforted.

Interlude: Part II
DOOM of the DARKNAUGHTS

The Four Sword Sanctuary was suffused with a sense of anticipation. For nearly a century the place had stood empty, undisturbed. And then a shadowy figure—a being of magic guided by malice and greed—came to the sacred space. Like smoke blown through a shaft of light the thing phased into existence, mocking reality by its very presence. With empty red eyes the hollow thing considered the ancient room, ivy-columned and bare-furnished save for four empty pedestals marked with the insignias of the four elements; water, fire, wind, earth.

Then a shaft of light opened from above that brought the undisturbed columns and altar into sharp relief for a few brief blinding seconds. In this light the shadow cowered, blinking away the glory of the beam from his sharp crimson eyes. And then, a boy stepped out of the fading brightness peering dully into the gloom of the Sanctuary, catching sight of the solitary pedestal of the Four Sword. The Shadow leapt on him hungrily, slashing out with a blade of hardened darkness. The boy raised up his own sword to parry, glinting with gold in the dim Sanctuary. And furious was the battle that ensued where golden-sword flashed out against shadow-blade; neither foe faltering, neither overcoming; the one perfectly matched against the other—the Hero and his Shadow.

Now the hero was driven back, now gained ground. But in his heated overbearance the hero struck amiss and shattered his golden weapon against the very altar of the Four Sword, that legendary blade which could split its wielder into four separate beings. Of course, the hero did not pause to consider this lore; he only knew that his shadowy rival had suddenly been inexplicably disarmed. Now was his chance to catch the fiend! Throwing discretion to the winds, he gripped the hilt of the legendary blade and drew it from its cracked pedestal, slashing out at the Shadow-Made-Real. But it was not one sword which cleaved the air—not one hand which wielded the blades—but four. And in that moment as the Hero-Made-Four contemplated his broken existence, the shadow dimmed, dissipated and vanished with a snickering and a cackling…

But this was not the last voice the hero heard before he left that time-forgotten place; for a dusty, sinister voice came from behind and spoke words of disdain and arrogance. Ostensibly the voice must have come from the Four Sword’s altar, but the hero could not be certain—it spoke of vengeance sworn, and pain promised, and before the Hero-Made-Four knew what was happening, a great gust of wind erupted from the stone and swept each of his selves up into the air and out of that place.

The wind sorcerer Vaati had escaped.

* * *

The air in the barracks below the eastern courtyard of Hyrule Castle was stagnant with ire. For a moment none of the four brother knights spoke.

Finally: “The Lieutenant said he wanted us to stay where we are.”

“But Meryl, we must follow the villain west!” cried Sapphael. “You know as well as I that the Wind Mage fled to the Tower. That cursed sorcerer has escaped and you just want to sit on your hands? The Master Wizard told all of us just now—why do you hesitate? We must open the way to the Tower of Winds and vanquish him before history is repeated…or do you wish the daughters of Hyrule to vanish one by one as they did the last time this evil raised its ugly head?”

“Listen, you insolent runt,” said Meryl, thrusting one finger into his brother’s chest, “I have sworn the same oath as you; protect the royal family at all costs, which in this case means keeping the Royal Jewels as far from danger as possible. And where do you get off treating your elders with such belligerence? Don’t forget…”

“…that you were born first; yes, how could I ever forget your three minute superiority with your constant reminders?” Sapphael batted Meryl’s finger away. “Why don’t you point a sword into Vaati’s wizardly gullet instead of threatening me with weak excuses?”

“Because,” rebutted Meryl tersely, “the Wind Mage has fled to where we cannot reach him!”

“But that is precisely why we must open the way with the Royal Jewels; once we open the way to the Tower…”

“…we’ll be tortured until we reveal the secrets of the kingdom, hmm? Oh, jolly good plan. Next you’ll want to traipse into the Golden Land and deliver the Triforce to King of the Enchanted Thieves. It’s a wonder you don’t join his little girly band and have done with this protecting Hyrule nonsense. You’re so reckless it might just do us a bit of good to be rid of you. Here, Ameth, talk some sense into the boy.”

“I hardly think this conversation should be happening right now,” said Ameth in his deep bass voice. “The Captain’s Test is about to commence. We should be in position for the procession.”

“Who cares about all that pomp and circumstance?” countered Sapphael. He tossed a hand in the air as if he was batting at an annoying insect. “With the king sick up in Kakariko we have no one to escort—we’d be idiots to march out there in full armor without anybody between us…”

“…but it’s tradition…” Ameth added feebly.

“…and have you seen those storm clouds?” Sapphael pressed on as if Ameth were not even present. “It’s an utter deluge; no one’s going to be there anyway.” He pounded one metal-clad fist against the other. “The real need lies west. Who’s with me?”

Meryl thrust his finger at Sapphael again. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; that kind of bullheaded scheme will only put Hyrule in further danger! If you would just listen to me…”

“Would you idiots please just shut up!?” barked Rubeus. Up until now he had been leaning in the corner of the barracks muster area, silent as usual. But now he simply couldn’t stand to hear his brothers argue any longer. “Things will be fine; we’ve got more soldiers than ever training up to try their shot at facing the invisible, miraculously-vanished Ganondorf Dragmire—King of the Enchanted Numbskulls—now that he’s infiltrated the Temple of Time and gotten away with two accounts of murder and one fat act of treason to boot. It’s no matter nobody can find him; if anything we can just make use of the extra sword-hands. It’s a waste of resources to tie up the knights guarding the Temple of Time; he’s obviously not there anymore. If you ask me we should take every last knight, soldier and boy off the street who can hold a weapon and sweep the countryside for that blackguard.”

“And leave the castle defenseless… Oh, that makes sense,” muttered Meryl. “I’d prefer Sapphael’s idiot plan…”

Sapphael raised a fist but Rubeus had already caught it in the air, rounding on Meryl instead. “At least we know he’s not here! He’s only one man; he can’t escape all of us. Were Hyrule’s defenses were any better I might expect Din to come down and fight us just for the challenge!”

Ameth gasped. “Rubeus, don’t say that…”

“Ah, what do I care. The point is you all have no sense of security. I’m going to my room to catch a few winks; it looks like none of us are going anywhere fast.” Rubeus had turned and was about to open the door to his room when Ameth’s deep bass voice stopped him.

“Now just you wait a moment.” The others turned slowly to face him; he had never spoken so forcefully before.

“Well, you’ve got our attention,” grumbled Rubeus. “Now what?” He folded his arms.

“Oh, he won’t solve anything,” said Meryl. “Prim and proper, good for nothing…”

Ameth raised his chin. “As I was saying,” he said over his brother, “Afton would be ashamed of you all…of us,” he amended. He took a step forward. “Do we—who are the most fearsome knights of the Hylia—stand to let dissention into our midst? Do we—the dreaded Darknaughts—succumb to petty boasting, bragging and insults? I think not. What would the king think? What would the captain say?”

“But Am, the captain’s...” began Sapphael quietly.

“I mean our new captain,” replied Ameth calmly. “The captain we would have if circumstances would permit him his trial. And where would the shame lie if his four chiefest knights were not present for the ceremony?” Sapphael bowed his head. “Even so, if Captain Colin were still with us—Faroe rest him—he might whip us black and blue with a good tongue-lashing. ‘My knights,’ he would say, ‘are not little quibbling boys to have it out any time they can’t have their way. There will be order in this family,’ he would say. ‘For you are my family—my very brothers—in name if not in fact.’ ”

Meryl’s face was downcast. “Aye, that he would, Faroe rest him.”

Even Rubeus was silent; he took his hand from the door of his room. “What’s it to be, then?” he said, folding his arms. “What are the Darknaughts good for in times like these?”

“Why,” said Ameth, bearing up his massive double-edged sword and leaning it on his shoulder, “to set the Darkness at naught.”

“I am with you brother,” said Meryl, lifting his thick-bladed saber and cradling it in his elbow. “But how are we to do that? We can’t pursue the Wind Mage; not when the Tyrant is still abroad. It would spread our numbers too thin.”

“I haven’t the strength to do it without the rest of you,” said Sapphael, surprising the others with his meekness. “But if I could I would rid that foul wizard of his head just as soon as Ganondorf.” His fists clenched at his sides. “His deeds, though long since done, were just as dreadful.”

Meryl met his twin with a sincere look. “I agree with you, Saph. Something must be done.”

Rubeus grinned widely and heaved up his mace. “Now that’s what I was waiting for; a little solidarity.” He stepped forward and clapped a gauntlet to Ameth’s mailed chest. “You’ve got the streak of a leader in you after all, you have.”

“Listen, Meryl,” said Sapphael, gripping the haft of his axe, “I’ve been an ass; I don’t know what came over me.”

Meryl smacked Sapphael on the shoulder and smiled. “Me too.” Ameth beamed.

Rubeus fidgeted. “Yeah, yeah, real cute. Just let us know when you’re done kissing so we can actually get a plan together.”

* * *

“Now, if anything goes amiss we meet back here and gather our defenses as best we can. If we can we must draw the enemy out and keep him moving. That will make him more vulnerable.” Sapphael was debriefing the other knights in the barracks muster area. He spread a map of Hyrule out on the one large table. He indicated four x’s on the outskirts of Hyrule. A fifth represented Hyrule Castle. “From these vantage points we will spy what we can. Afton and a regiment of men will stay on the castle grounds while the rest of us rotate positions to keep the enemy guessing. With any luck we may find both of the fugitives we seek.” Outside a clap of thunder sounded. “Ameth will position himself here, beyond the chasm that separates Hyrule from the southern villages. Hinton, Franklin; you’ll be with him with your fifties—and make sure they include a pair of chain-troopers. Assemble your forces and move out.” Two of the knights strapped helmets to their heads and clapped each other on the shoulder before following Ameth up the stone staircase that led to Hyrule Castle’s eastern courtyard.

Sapphael continued: “Marlon, Grin; you will accompany Rubeus into the Burning Desert. Take an extra ration of water with you to be sure you can hold out. Assemble your fifties; go!” Rubeus, Marlon and Grin readied themselves and left the way Ameth and his knights had gone.

“Sapphael.” Meryl stood to one side, his helmet under one arm. “Are you certain any of our companies will be able to handle both Vaati and the Thief King?” he asked in a low tone. “And what happens if they attack the castle in tandem? Our forces will be spread far too thin and Castle Town could be decimated.”

Sapphael turned but did not look directly at his brother. “We’ll just have to hope we get to them first.” He turned to the map again and called out the names of the next two knights. “Verlan, Brandon, take your fifties and report to Kakariko Village with Meryl. May Faroe guide your blades!”

Meryl gave his brother one last long glance. “Fight with honor, brother. I will see you when this is over, Goddesses willing.” He placed a hand on Sapphael’s shoulder.

“Aye,” said Sapphael without looking up. “And you…” Meryl pulled his helmet over his head and trotted away with his knights. Sapphael stood. “Meryl!” he called. Meryl stopped, looking back through his visor. “Be wary,” he said. “Should the Goddesses take us…then let us meet in the Land of Gold, where all is good and fair.”

Meryl said nothing, but clapped his fist to his chest. Sapphael returned the salute and then his twin was gone. He turned.

“Sir?” said one of the knights; Sapphael realized he had been staring at the map blankly.

“Yes, Duncan, what is it?” said Sapphael finally, rolling up the vellum page absentmindedly.

“Oh, I was jus’ wondrin’ where we’d be posted is all,” said Duncan in a thick accent. “Me’n Carn here’d be more’n happy to do our part—jus’ give us the where and what for…”

“You’ll be with me, Duncan. Carn, too. We’re going east, among the falls at the borders of Zora’s Domain.” Sapphael looked over Duncan’s face; sideburns poofed from his cheeks and connected over his lip in a thick brownish-red mustache. His round ears stood out in contrast to the pointed ears of the Hylia. Under thick eyebrows were set a pair of green eyes, honest and adventurous. Sapphael would be glad of Duncan’s honesty on this assignment; he wanted no delusions about the fight ahead, and something gave him the feeling he would not see his brothers again. “Come Duncan, Carn. Let us give ourselves to the protection of Hyrule.”

Duncan turned to Carn, who nodded. “Very well, sir,” replied Duncan. “We’ll give her our best, then.”

* * *

The light of midday shone through the somber clouds in wide, long shafts. Arcing across the sky was one great rainbow produced by the sheets and sheets of mist rolling down from Lower Zora Falls. Sapphael had donned his full plate armor traced with blue Hylian hieroglyphs and carried his enormous axe at his back and a longsword on his hip. Blinking into the sun which now peeked out from behind a thick bank of clouds he considered the state of things. Turning his white mare, Iris, he watched as the line of one hundred soldiers trailed up the dew-covered slopes to his position, bookended by Carn and Duncan in the rear. As the men approached the Darknaught he gave them orders and assignments. Finally, Duncan and Carn reported, both on their respective mounts.

“That’s the last of them, sir. We’ve got the chain-troopers at the entrance to the path. What’ll we do now?” asked Duncan, bringing his appaloosa charger up to one side of Iris. Carn flanked Sapphael on his chestnut mare.

“Now, we wait. Hopefully our march will have attracted some attention.” Sapphael looked out over the fields of Hyrule and removed his helmet, holding it under one arm. A gleam shone in his vibrant forget-me-not-blue eyes. “My fellow knights,” he said quietly, “I do not wish to mince words with you; my fate is sealed.”

The red horse-hair plume of Carn’s helmet swung quickly as he turned his head in shock. “Sir, what do you mean?” Duncan looked intently on the Darknaught.

“I mean, friends, that my time in our fair land is at an end. A sense of foreboding has crept into my bones and I cannot shake it loose. I am done for…” Sapphael reached under the collar of his breastplate. He withdrew a pendant from which hung a clear blue stone the size of a small egg set in a silver frame. It was carved to resemble a sphere within a sphere and shone with an inner light.

“What’s that, sir, if’n you don’t mind…?”

“This, Duncan,” replied Sapphael, “is the Blue Royal Jewel; the receptacle of the power over the element of water which I have protected with my life these many years. My brothers hold like gems; of fire, and wind, and earth. These are they which we are protecting, and I show it to you only that you may know why it must never come into the hands of the enemy. Look to the falls.”

Duncan looked, but only after Sapphael had removed the amulet from his neck and held it above him did Duncan see the power of the gem—the water of the falls slowed and swept up like a curtain blown by a hard breeze. The sheet of translucent liquid fluttered over the hundred soldiers like a long banner and finally tapered again into the rapids of the river that swept to their southern flank. The soldiers staggered backward, fearful of this magic they did not understand, but Sapphael extended his hand to them and most of the men paused, even if they were still wary.

Halfway up the falls was revealed a dark recess in the stone wall. It looked accessible only by a long climb but was obviously no ordinary cave, for inside there glowed a thin blue light, pale and flickering. Then Sapphael lowered the amulet and the water returned to its usual course; thick, churning and sputtering. The cave would have been inaccessible if not for the diversion of the water. The knight returned the amulet to his neck and let the jewel rest on his breastplate.

Duncan’s eyes widened as he considered the jewel, then the knight, then the falls. “By the Maker—what’s up there, sir, t’be hidden by such strong magic?”

“One of the Great Fae; aligned with the elements of Hyrule. There are many such secrets about the kingdom, and few there are who can reach them without power greater than their own. The Great Fae hold a different kind of magic than the Royal Jewels. Nevertheless, to allow even the jewels into the wrong hands would be disastrous. I tell you this because of the pall of doom which hangs over me. There must be some who know of these things if the secrets are not to be forgotten. Do you understand me Duncan…Carn?”

“Yessir,” the knights replied.

“Good. Now, let’s make camp. We’ll need to make our position defensible if and when the enemy…”

But Sapphael did not have the chance to expound, for at that moment a great wave of cries arose from the masses of soldiers and pandemonium ensued. Without being able to discern the cause for the commotion, Sapphael witnessed men writhing on the ground—some seizing, others clawing at their backs. Some jumped away from the grassy turf in fear as if they saw some horrid enemy under their feet. Then Duncan pointed and shouted “There!”

When Sapphael looked his face paled; the shadow of the nearest soldier elongated unnaturally, stretching and filling out until it resembled the man in shape. Then two points of red light glared out from the shadow’s face as it pulled away from its owner and stood on its own feet. The soldier turned with a look of feeble horror and faced the thing…and then promptly fell backward as it pounced on him, raking at the man’s face with senseless, insubstantial fingers.

Everywhere the shadows of the very men were coming to life and wrapping their thin arms around their caster’s legs and necks. The shadows rose from the ground hollow-eyed and thin-bodied, and once one had seized a man it would press its face to his mouth and its essence would slip into him like a wriggling rope. Those men who were not yet seized upon looked about them in fear and uncertainty, looking to the knights for orders.

“What’s happening, sir?” shouted Carn, his mare rearing. “What sorcery is this?”

Sapphael reined in Iris to prevent her from spooking as well. “None that I have seen.” He drew his longsword from his waist. “The enemy is surely upon us. Carn, Duncan, gather the men who will follow you and escape to the other side of the river. I go to meet my fate.” The knights shouted their orders and any man who was not beset by his own shadow followed without hesitation. Sapphael raised his amulet once more and the river was diverted in its course, raising up over the heads of the escaping knights and soldiers.

“You three,” said Sapphael, addressing a few scouts at the end of the procession, “you are skilled in tracking are you not?” The men nodded, glancing back all the while at the writhing men, visibly eager to be gone. “Then I charge you to follow me until I have perished; then go to my brethren and tell them of my fate. Stay out of sight unless you wish to be set upon by that which dooms me. Do you understand?” The men nodded, inching further away from the writhing crowd.

Sapphael lowered the amulet and the river resumed its proper course. Then, raising his sword skyward, Sapphael shouted: “Then, o’ foe, come for your prey and leave these be; I have the Gem that you seek! Follow your quarry—Iris, fly!” And with a jab of Sapphael’s heels at her sides Iris reared and broke into a full gallop, taking the Darknaught back from whence he came—back to the fields of Hyrule—and from there south as far as his destiny might carry him.

* * *

Rubeus and his knights were halted just east of a mountain pass that led into the Burning Desert. The mountain range and a single deciduous tree was all that marked their position in the vastness of southwestern Hyrule field. On the other side of the mountains the trails would be infrequent and rarely-traveled. After that there would be desert wind and dunes and no trails at all. The soldiers were about checking their waterskins to be sure they would hold in the arid desert heat.

Rubeus bent over a fresh set of tracks. “Something has been this way,” he said.

“What do you suppose made them, sir? They don’t look…normal….”

“No, Grin, they look like the prints of a pig but they’re too big to have been made by a typical animal, that’s for certain.”

“Could there be any connection between these tracks and the escape of the Wind Mage?”

“If there is we must simply be more careful, Marlon. Anything this large might be a powerful minion indeed if it also had the intelligence to free the Wind Mage.” Rubeus ground a handful of dirt through his fingers. “We may be dealing with magic beyond that of Vaati…”

There was a yelp and a shout of indignation and Rubeus turned to see pair of soldiers bearing a man between them by the armpits. They threw the unhappy fellow to the ground before the Darknaught.

“Found him snooping around the saddle-bags for rations,” said one of the soldiers. “He must have been hiding behind the tree.”

Marlon raised an eyebrow at the dubious explanation; the tree was thin and failing and could no sooner have hidden a spear. “Was anyone with him?”

“He’s alone,” said the other soldier with a nod. “The tree couldn’t have hidden more than one…unless there was somebody standing on his head.”

The intruder stood to his feet, dusting himself off. “What in tarnation do you call that, you bucket-headed buffoon!? It certainly wasn’t a welcome!” The man’s wiry black mustache twitched moodily.

“I will take it from the stench that accompanies you that you have not bathed,” said Rubeus intolerantly. “As such I will choose to excuse your lack of manners and consider you merely uncivilized. If you do not attempt to be more civil, however, I’m sure we could teach you to do so.” Rubeus rested his enormous mace over one shoulder. “Do we have an understanding?”

The black-mustached man stood as tall as he could, only just reaching the Darknaught’s chin. For all of the man’s height he was still no match for the remarkable stature of the Hylian Elite. “Well, I guess it weren’t all that unfriendly a welcome,” he said, eyeing Rubeus’ mace. “I suppose I should be thanking my lucky stars you didn’t take back what I had already eaten…” He gave a nervous chuckle.

“We could still arrange that,” said Rubeus, “unless you care to tell us who you are and why you dared to steal from the knights of Hyrule.”

“Tweren’t knights I stole from! Lousy soldiers is all…” He stopped himself when Rubeus un-shouldered his grim mace. “Ingo!” said the man testily. He raised his hands high in the air. “Name’s Ingo; happy now? Look! I ain’t got any weapons!” He lowered his hands again, straightening his soiled shirt. “Jeez, I go from bein’ paid second rate as a ranch-hand to havin’ nothin’ but a rock fer a pillow and now I’ve got Hyrule’s Shiniest breathin’ down my neck fer nippin’ a strip o’ jerky in a pinch…”

Rubeus pulled away from a whispered conversation with Marlon. “What brings you this far west of the fields, rancher?” said the knight, interrupting Ingo’s tirade. “What’s your business here?”

“Look, I’ve been robbed just last night, if you really want to know. I saw you passing by and I followed you out. Figured you’d have something to eat. Ain’t a crime to keep yerself from starvin’, is it? Didn’t figger you’d give me any o’ yer rations even if I asked…”

“And we probably wouldn’t at that—” began Rubeus.

Ingo thrust his hands out to either side. “There, see? What’s a feller supposed to do?”

“—but only because we are in need of the rations ourselves,” finished Rubeus. “But we might not have let you go hungry, if you had asked. We could perhaps have given you some of our catch.” Ingo sniffed and seemed to locate the waft something tantalizingly flavorful on the air. “But since you have had your fill on rations it seems you wouldn’t need anything more, now would you? Now if you please, Master Wanderer, we have a mysterious beast to track and we simply can’t permit ourselves to be detained any longer…”

“Wait, wait! What if I could to tell you something about this here beastie that made them tracks? Could I get a bowl of that there stew or what’s y’got?” Ingo rubbed his hands together greedily.

Rubeus considered this. “Our finest hunters caught this meal, Master Ingo, and bombchus are not easy or convenient to catch; your information had better be worth the trouble.”

“Right you are, Mister Knight. But my tongue is so dry just now, see? It might be easier to tell with a little broth to whet the whistle, eh?” Rubeus cast the ranch-hand a sidelong glance before nodding to one of the soldiers. The man returned with a bowl of the soup. After two or three mouthfuls Ingo was humming contentedly.

Rubeus cleared his throat.

“Right!” said Ingo, slopping broth down his stubble-speckled chin. “Right, of course; a deed for a deed, then…” he said, licking his lips. He slurped another mouthful and swallowed, still holding the half-filled bowl with obvious gluttony. “This here thing yer lookin’ for ain’t got nothin’ on yer Wind Magician business… Oh, and uh, it’s huntin’ you all if truth be told.”

“What do you mean by ‘hunt?’” snapped Marlon. “We are the hunters, if hunters there be!”

“Silence!” barked Rubeus. “There is more to this than what we know. Explain yourself, Master Ingo, and be plain about it.”

Ingo seemed pleased at this mild altercation. “As I was saying,” he began theatrically, “this Wind Mage ain’t got nothin’ on the King o’ Darkness…”

Grin gasped. “King of Darkness!? But I thought that was an old myth…”

“Quiet!” said Rubeus.

A wicked smile crept across Ingo’s broth-slopped face. He leaned in as if what he was about to say was a fine secret. “Yep; the King o’ Darkness is real. And he’s got the Trident o’ Power…” The nearby soldiers marveled and a few began reciting old superstitious poems to themselves. Ingo slurped the rest of his soup down in the subsequent hush, drawing out every moment as dramatically as possible.

Rubeus’ stare was flat. “How do you know of this? What proof do you have?” He patted his mace with one hand. “And remember what an unsatisfactory answer will cost you.”

Ingo swallowed the last of his soup with evident strain. He hiccupped and then burped nervously, jabbing his chest with one fist. “Well, I’ll be,” he said finally, “that soup was mighty tasty, but uh…I don’t guess I could trouble y’all fer a bit more…?”

“Do you think only of your stomach when the fate of Hyrule is at stake!?” Rubeus reached into his breastplate and snapped something from his neck. He thrust his fist out at the rancher, his clenched fingers face up. Ingo flinched as instantly there was a spark and a fizzle and over Rubeus’ fist appeared a rolling, snapping ball of flame, dangerously close to the rancher’s bristly black mustache. “I am the bearer of the Ancient Fire. Give me one reason not to cook you where you stand and leave you as a meal for the vultures!”

Ingo suddenly lost control of his faculties and cringed to the ground, humiliated and utterly fearful. “O-okay, okay! He said his name was Ganond-dorf, but I knew it couldn’t have been. It was a travelling magician playing tricks; soaking up notoriety off the name! M-must’ve been…”

Rubeus feinted and the ball of flame crackled louder, threatening to singe off the man’s mustache entirely. “You must take my men and me to be simpletons! You’d better have something more convincing than that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just…he’s a hard master; if he knew I was talking…”

“If who knew? That stew in your belly is your last meal if you don’t tell us who you’re really working for!”

“Yes… Yes, of course. No travelling magician; it was Ganondorf alright. He took the Trident of power from the Pyramid in the Desert of Doubt.”

“What does he want? Vaati?”

“No, Vaati’s just a pawn; a distraction! It’s the princess he’s after! Once the royalty is out of the way he can have Hyrule under his hairy blue fist, see? It’s the truth! I swear. He found me last night and nearly killed me. I begged him t’spare me and he said he would only if I spied around a bit…”

“What else did he tell you?” shouted Rubeus.

“Nothing! By the Goddess, nothing; he just took a shield I st-…had and bolted off right fer Hyrule Castle…”

Rubeus’ eyes widened. “Shield? What shield?”

Ingo’s hands flew to cover his head. “I don’t know—a shiny one with a face on it. Nothing special…please! That’s all I know…please…” Every muscle in the ranch-hand’s body was clenched in anticipation of an imminent pyre.

But nothing happened.

Then Ingo realized that everything around him was deathly still. He could feel the sun warming the back of his neck. Finally, he lifted his gaze from the ground. The Darknaught and his knights were staring eastward with drained faces. Ingo turned and saw what they did; a distant blue speck that was advancing with unnatural speed across Hyrule field, the displaced air casting waves through tallgrass like water. The effect was altogether as unsettling as it was uncanny. Ingo’s eyes watered with the shame of a disobedient servant who knew that his fickle master was soon to beat him soundly.

Ingo swallowed dryly. “Y’all hafta go,” he said, now more adamant than he ever was. “The sooner the better…”

Rubeus nodded to his knights. In moments all the men were assembled and mobilized, heading into the mountains. One knight remained behind.

“Sir, are you not coming?”

“No, Marlon. I feel the Goddess staying my feet where they are. Go before me and lay in wait. I will lead him into your ambush. Go!” After a mutual glance of understanding, the knight turned and brought up the rear of the retreating troop.

Once the others were out of hearing, Ingo stood. “Y’all don’t expect to live.” It was not a question.

Rubeus gave Ingo a hard stare and gripped the rancher’s scrawny neck with one gauntleted hand. “My fate is yours, do you understand?” Ingo gulped dryly again. He nodded quickly. “Then tell me truthfully, cur; what approaches?”

Ingo’s eyes wandered out to the fields where the blue speck was advancing like a meteor through the grass. It would be upon them in moments. “It’s him… It’s the Great Ganondorf.”

* * *

The cold, moist air in the mountain village of Kakariko sewed stitches into the chests of the soldiers, weary from the hastened march. The sun shone down over the village, the clouds quickly revealing more and more sky over the thrumming masses of villagers that meandered to and fro from one hut to the next. In and out of shops, stores, gamehouses and taverns they churned. Working men would roam from one cluster of women to the next, hoping to get a word in before Mutoh, the Work-master, had a chance to box their ears for negligence.

A hundred soldiers clogged the streets and by-ways, waiting for orders. Cool perspiration beaded down from under helmets and made hands squish inside of gloves as they nervously gripped swords, spears and shields. The villagers of Kakariko were accustomed to the presence of soldiers in their town, and so they quickly learned to avoid the stagnant clump of men and find detours that were well-traveled in no time.

Meryl crouched in the shadow of an unoccupied house, preparing his two knights for the long wait they anticipated. “If we’re pressed back, we retreat to the mountain pass to the east and follow this exposed water channel. From there…”

“Sir! Sir Meryl, I have news!” A scout sprinted up to the pair of knights listening to Meryl’s instructions.

“Ah, Jenkins. What is it? Why are you not with my brother; I thought you were assigned to his troop?” said the Darknaught.

“Sapphael…” said Jenkins, panting.

“Yes?”

“Sapphael said…”

Meryl waited. “He said…?”

“He told us to follow him…he…”

“What do you mean ‘we’? There are none but you. What message does my brother send?”

“We don’t know sir,” said the scout, cradling a stitch in his side. “It was big…but it couldn’t be that big…”

“What are you talking about, Jenkins?”

The scout sighed and raised his hands over his head weakly, pantomiming claws and fangs and (Meryl thought) a pitchfork. “It’s a pig, sir. A blue one. Holding a spear or some such… Hard to tell.”

“Are you playing at something, Jenkins? Very well, then; Brandon, take him, will you? See if you can get anything out of him after he’s rested. We’ll just be ready for this bigger-than-normal pig with a spear.” Meryl rolled up the map he had been using and tucked it into his belt. “Best return to your post then, Verlan, that will be all. I said you can go, Jenkins…”

“Yes, sir, you said that, didn’t you?” Jenkins was no longer panting. Brandon was already giving the scout sidelong glance.

Meryl placed his fists on his hips. “Say, Jenkins, have you got the stroke? Maybe you should report to the apothecary for a remedy or…”

“I’ll not be needing a remedy, sir.” Jenkins stared at the Darknaught blankly. Then, inexplicably, he let out a shrill cackle as if laughing at some unheard joke.

Meryl stepped back into the light to consider the man. He could see that Jenkins was not himself but he could not say that there was anything visibly wrong with him. “I say; you’re not well, son. Here, come with me and we’ll get you some water at least.”

“Whatever you say, sir.” The scout followed the knight out across a trodden dirt path and down a set of stone steps carved into the rock of the mountainside. It was not more than a handful of seconds when Brandon’s voice caused Meryl to turn.

“Sir Meryl! Behind you!”

Meryl had only a moment to get the saber on his back loose of its harness before the scout’s sword came down on his helmet. Meryl’s head thrummed where the blade had struck but he was not harmed; nevertheless the blow had forced his head down where he caught a glimpse of Jenkin’s boots. But there was something odd about the sight. The next moment Meryl realized what it was—in the direct light of the sun the man had no shadow to speak of. Meryl brought his saber up and deflected another blow, intent on preventing the scout from surprising him again. They locked swords and Meryl marveled; he had to strain to fight off the scout’s pressing force.

“Jenkins, what…?” But then Meryl saw the man’s eyes—hollow, sunken things that glowed red. The hollow scout smiled with all his teeth and slashed out with his weapon. The two swords sang and grated as their edges slid past one another. Meryl held the blades locked at the hilt.

“Where do you come from, demon? What do you want?” barked Meryl.

“Oh, it is not I, sir. I am but the herald that comes before the Darkness. We are all here to smother you; push you into that world…”

And to Meryl’s horror, scores of eyes glowed red from within the shadows between the surrounding buildings; unnaturally still and fierce, like a malicious flame frozen in pinpricks of ire. Meryl had brought a hundred men with him, and two knights besides. Could they all have been afflicted like Jenkins? The lot of possessed soldiers shambled forward.

And then the dim screams started. From deep within the alleyways of the village came the calls of chaos and pandemonium. Something was horribly wrong.

“Come Knight of Hyrule, show us your mettle,” chanted the hollow-men in chorus.

Meryl cast his eyes around, searching for any man—any soldier—who might still be unaffected. There was no one left nearby; and all the villagers had found detours by now… No, there—

“You there, lad! No wait, stop! Here, come here…” Meryl caught the shirt of a villager boy and spun him around. Listen to me, lad; I see you’re not hollow-eyed like these… Don’t look at them, no, don’t look. Listen to me. Get everyone in their homes. Sound the alarm at the guard tower. Can you do that? Can you be a soldier?

The boy nodded dumbly and, taking one last fearful glance at the advancing hollow-eyed troop, turned and staggered away hastily, never looking back.

“There’s no sense in giving them false hope, you know…” said a thin, sharp voice, like the edge of a keen knife.

When Meryl turned again he spotted the scout—joining the shambling mindless throng—but now there stood before him a new figure, dark and unreal. Ostensibly composed of nothing more than thick shadow, it looked startlingly like the boy-hero who was to be captain, but it had the same hollow-red stare as the others. Resting on the Shadow’s shoulder was a metal rod tipped with a ruby the size of a child’s fist.

“Who are you?” barked Meryl, brandishing his saber. “And where did you get that? The Fire Rods of old were all confiscated.”

The Shadow cackled, sounding like the shaking of glass shards. “The private stores of the Royal Family have many helpful items.” The thing unshouldered the rod. “It’s unjust to keep power from the powerless. I’ve taken the liberty of redistributing the wealth…where I see fit.” The Shadow struck out with the rod and a jet of flame leapt from the tip of the ruby, catching the roof of the nearest home. The wooden shingles steamed and smoked as the recent rains evaporated. Then the fire took hold and crackled loudly as it ate away at the building. Frenzied wails came from within.

In seconds Meryl had his amulet in his hand—a green gem carved to resemble a stylized swirling leaf—and a great gust of wind whistled across the arboreal mountainside. The next moment a shower of leaves burst out of the sky and the wind pummeled the flickering flames, choking them to non-existence. Meryl turned to the Shadow again. “Identify yourself, cur! You are under arrest for theft and unlawful use of royal property!”

“Sorry,” said the Shadow. “I have no name.” And it cackled again eerily. “Or if you prefer, you can call me Shadow.” The thing considered this name pleasantly. “Yes, I am what follows you everywhere you go—silent, forgotten, disregarded—into the dark slumber that awaits all mortals after their pitiful lives…and then my life becomes yours.” He seemed delighted at this, and his grin was like a smile in a dark mirror—unseen, but understood to exist.

“Then whatever you are, you will cease this charade and come with me.” Meryl reached forward to grab the Shadow, but it brandished a bladed weapon seeming composed of the same stuff that the Shadow was made of, as if it were an extension of its body. The Shadow struck out but Meryl spun in place and disarmed the thing, its weapon dissipating like smoke. The next moment the Shadow had the Fire Rod trained on the Darknaught, ready to spew flames again. Just in time Meryl raised the amulet and a great gust of wind held a jet of flame at bay, choking it out just before it reached the Darknaught. Another gout of flame flew and every second it was brighter, thicker. But this, too, was extinguished by the force of air that followed Meryl’s command.

But the Darknaught did not stop at this. Pressing his fist forward, the gust threw the Shadow back against the line of possessed soldiers who were likewise bowled to the ground by the sheer force of the gale.

But the Shadow stood, seemingly unaffected by the aerial blast. It stooped and recovered the Fire Rod from the ground. “This has been fun…but I’d run if I were you.”

Meryl sharpened his gaze on the thing. “And why is that?”

“The boss is coming. He’ll deal with you good. And then he’ll let me have my fun with this place.” The Shadow rested the rod on its shoulder again.

“What are you talking ab-…?” But Meryl stopped. The shadow of his answer was looming over him.

* * *

A dense roar echoed across the canyon. The trained soldiers stopped half-way across the wide rope bridge spanning the chasm.

One of the knights turned to his side. “What do you suppose that was, Franklin?”

The other knight was looking back the way they had come; back into the thickness of the Forbidden Wood. “I right couldn’t say…unless it was a huge cat or sommat…”

“No matter,” said Ameth, leading his horse up between the two. “Come on, men! Further on, further in!” The train continued to shamble across the bridge.

A hundred men led their horses over the sturdy wooden planks, the chorus of falling of hooves a clopping cacophony. A thick mist broiled beneath them while the sound of distant rushing waters drifted up to meet their pointed ears. Then they heard it again; the rumbling roar of the unidentified beast. This time it was nearer and a small terror of ravens escaped the trees just across the chasm, croaking as they went, flying further from the yawning gorge and whatever had made the voluminous growl. Many of the soldiers looked over their shoulders warily.

“Pay it no mind, men!” called Ameth. He was almost to the other side of the rope-bridge. “We’re nearly there anyhow…” Every man quickened his pace and soon Ameth was mounting his own horse in preparation for the trek to their chosen position. It was little known and even less visited; a perfect spot to hide the Royal Gem of Earth from the Wind Mage.

Ameth and his men had not gone far, however, before small white specks began to appear in the air, floating around in little flurries. The soldiers studied them with furrowed brows, struggling to comprehend. The winter was past—why were there snowflakes in the air? Then there came from behind them the sound of wood groaning under an extraordinary weight. All in the company instantly halted and looked at one another. Ameth took immediate control.

“Franklin, Hinton, take the men and head to the rendezvous point; we want him to think we’re still on the move. Carson and Barry with me; you’re axes are needed sooner than we expected. We may be able to catch him on the bridge. Move!” The men followed his orders all too readily; all that is except for the two axe-men who looked as if they were going to their graves. “Come, now, have a little courage in you! On, then!” And emboldened just enough, they followed the Darknaught back the way they had come—back to the rope bridge, still groaning under some immense weight.

When they came in sight of the bridge, however, whatever had been so massive as to make so much noise was nowhere in sight—there was only the bridge, wobbling to and fro to prove whatever it was had just been there. Ameth was silent, scanning the trees for movement. There was nothing. Not so much as a whisper; only the snow, now falling thicker than before.

Then: “Carson? Carson stop spookin’ me. You know I don’t like it when you play like this…” Barry was shaking the other soldier as if to wake him. His friend was dipping dangerously in his saddle. If the man had been any drowsier he would have fallen from his horse and landed in the dirt. Then, just as Carson surely would have fallen, the soldier sat bolt upright staring straight forward.

Barry jumped in surprise. “Bloody… You scared me, man! How are you gonna be all spooky-like in this here enchanted wood? So sorry, Master Ameth, I couldn’t say what’s come over h-…” But Carson had planted his hands around Barry’s neck and was restricting the flow of air through his throat.

Ameth frowned. “Enough foolishness, man! What plagues you?” When Carson would not respond, however, and Barry did not blink, Ameth urged his horse forward. Carson suddenly released his grip on the soldier and drew out his one-handed axe, swinging out at the Darknaught. Barry choked on gulps of chilled air. Carson’s axe glanced off Ameth’s protective plate armor. Carson swung again.

“What in blazes…!” Ameth raised his metal-clad hands to protect his head and neck. “Stop it, Carson—what are you…?” But Ameth had little time to secure a response, Carson stopped dead and Ameth became vaguely aware that something huge was looming behind him. He turned.

The next instant Ameth’s hand was on the hilt of his massive two-edged sword. A gargantuan, blue-haired, humanoid boar stood before him, its lower jaw set with a pair of tusks as long as kitchen knives. The thing made a sound like a snort and a squeal and then laughed openly; a wicked red laugh that told Ameth of the thing’s intelligence—cunning, cold and cruel. For a long moment Ameth stared into the thing’s beady red eyes, daring it to move with his composure, daring it to provoke him.

But the beast must have read his mind—or else not known the reputation of the Darknaughts—for it brandished its own weapon; a long red trident of some metal sharper than steel that glinted with hard malice in the whitening wood. Barry’s horse reared and fled with its rider calling out in fear and alarm. Both Carson and his steed watched calmly with hollow, red eyes glowing dully. Ameth’s trained charger was as collected as its master.

“Strike, then, beast! Make the strength of your arm known! Or do you fear the Darknaughts of Hyrule?” Ameth’s taunt provoked a snort from the beast, but nothing more. “Then catch me if you can!” And with this the Darknaught drew his sword from its place on his back and slashed across the arm of the blue-haired creature, turning his horse immediately in the opposite direction. The creature wailed, thrashing its arms, tossing a tree to one side, tearing it from the grip of its roots. Ameth spurred his steed into a gallop and raced away.

The beast’s bellows followed after him like the waves of a fierce sea-storm, fear threatening to creep past the chinks in Ameth’s armor and pierce his heart. But he would not be daunted, even as he heard one tree after another straining against its roots as it was knocked from the beast’s path. Ameth swerved this way and that, always wending his way toward the rendezvous point. This beastly form must be the Wind Mage’s ruse. If I can just get back to the others, he thought hopefully, then we will have him.
But the Darknaught was not rewarded according to his hopes, for when he arrived at the clearing he saw that his men were not only out of formation, but they were thrashing about on the ground as if they had been taken by vengeful spirits. But he only watched for some moments before each of them rose to their feet as if nothing had happened, their eyes glowing with eerie red light. When they saw the Darknaught on the outskirts of the camp, each drew his weapon. What used to be Franklin approached the Darknaught, eyeing him maliciously behind eyes of sharp crimson.

“What has happened here, Master Knight? What curse binds you? Where is Hinton?”

“Fled, sir,” said Franklin in a voice that was not his own. “He was the only one who got away. But you will not… You will not…” The knight threw back his sword to strike.

Ameth swept the weapon from the knight’s grasp with his own blade. He galloped around the outskirts of the encampment, staying far away from the other hollow-men. “What is this sorcery?” he whispered to himself. “What magic has the Mage wrought now?”

“It’s no mage-work, ‘fearsome’ knight,” said a heavy, growling voice from behind. Ameth spun to see the blue-haired beast had caught up to him. It spoke again. “It is the work of your new king. I have already infiltrated your castle, enslaved your princess and the maidens and overtaken the minds of all your men. It’s taken me some time to track you down, however. You were more difficult to find than your brothers.”

Ameth brandished his double-bladed sword. “What have you done with them, creature?”

The beast chuckled to itself. “You will know soon enough, little knight. Your powers aren’t up to this challenge; I will enslave you as I did the rest.” A chilled blast of air struck Ameth and his horse stamped its feet, sliding back nearly a yard. Ameth had to clap his hand to his chest to knock away a thin layer of ice from his neck armor.

“My power, you say…” said Ameth, pulling a cord out from within his tunic. “Not great enough? Are you greater than the elements?” From the leather thong around Ameth’s neck hung a purple stone worked into the shape of three triangular spires, vaguely reminiscent of stalagmites in a cave. “Know the unforgiving power of earth!” said Ameth, and the next instant a column of rock shot from the ground and smacked against the jaw of the blue-haired beast, sending it careening back into a score of trees, each of them flattening like blades of grass under the beast’s bulk. Ameth raised his hand again and the earth gathered up from under the creature, burying it alive in a matter of moments. For all of half a minute Ameth’s fist remained in the air—still clenching the royal jewel—and the earth shuffled, turned over and shifted as the creature sank down, down deeper into the earth. The horde of red-eyed soldiers watched mutely.

Finally all was still. Ameth exhaled.

But then the ground shifted. One huge blue-haired hand emerged, and then the rest of the beast followed. Finally, its feet regained the edge of its earthen prison and it stood before the knight, who was wide-eyed with shock. The beast chuckled, shaking the sod from its blue coat. It advanced on the Darknaught, its steps slow and deliberate.

“You have just sealed your fate Ameth Nohansen. By using your Earth-stone you have permitted me to corrupt it as I did the rest. As you can tell from my blizzard I already have control of water and wind and even now a fire consumes the village of Kakariko. But I am a gracious master. I will grant you this one last boon before you die; that you may know to whom your brother-king will bow when I find him. I am Ganon, the King of Darkness. And while you served your brother-king in life, you will serve me in death. Now; know the irresistible power of the void.”

The Darknaught once again raised his stone to the offensive, but all at once the purple gem in his hand went dull as if there was no light to give it brilliance. Ameth felt a sudden weight constrict his lungs and then a gritty, palpable blackness formed before him, staring through him with cold, red eyes. His shadow entered through his mouth and he had the sensation that it was hollowing out his insides as it went, robbing him of all sensation. He felt no pain, no fear; neither joy nor despair—indeed he felt nothing. He was no longer a man, but a shell of a man. A shadow wearing a man’s skin.

Ameth’s last thoughts before he left that world were of the captain of Hyrule—or rather, that boy who would soon be captain. And with the last shreds of hope left in his fading mind, Ameth begged the Goddess of Time to send the Hero once more on behalf of Hyrule…

As to the relative shortness of this, the final part of our interlude, I can only say that it did not exist until after I posted Part II. Never fear, however; there is purpose in the procrastination, and it will pay off by the end of this upcoming episode. Enjoy!

Interlude: Part III
The SHADOW FALLS

The Hero-Made-Four treaded carefully over the enchanted cloud banks. All around them blew mighty gusts of air, the darkness of the night enshrouding the scene in foreboding. From so high above, Link could have seen all of Hyrule. But his attention was not focused below him at the moment. Like a languid metronome, a distant thrumming reached Link’s pointed ears again.

“It must be just ahead,” Link called to the three others with him. “Be ready.” They followed close behind silently. One after the other they skirted the gaping holes that opened in the clouds, the ceaseless thrumming increasing in volume as they went.

They had come a long way to find the Realm of the Heavens. After the whirlwind had deposited Link and his other three selves in the Lower Falls of Zora’s Domain they had traversed seemingly all of Hyrule—plunging into the Forest of Light (turned Forest of Darkness) in the north-west, straying into the open regions south of Hyrule that he never knew existed, and even visiting the Blue Maiden’s remote village in the south-east of Hyrule near the coast of the open sea. Zelda and the six captive maidens were free once again but there was still much to be done; the stolen Dark Mirror was yet to be found, Vaati was still on the loose, and Ganon was at large somewhere, orchestrating his grand scheme…

From the sound of the heavy, deep tones they must nearly be there, Link decided. The four young men leapt into the chill, blustering wind, each of them clutching a blue-tipped feather from what must have been a truly enormous bird. Each landed deftly on the neighboring cloud bank, standing again to look over the stage where their next challenge would unfold.

Inscribed on the enchanted cloud floor was a circle of magic with a large open eye that Link easily recognized. Other circles of the very same magic had held the Darknaughts and their Royal Jewels bound in the Dark World, a place of shadows where things were startlingly similar and unsettlingly divergent at the same time. The magic circle inscribed on the cloud bank, however, held captive neither a Royal Jewel nor a cursed knight. Instead, the cruel, thick claws of a huge magical hand clutched a mirrored shield that Link acknowledged with a sinking heart. Etched into the surface of the mirror was a face that was drawn in a half-scream, as if in intense agony.

“The Dark Mirror,” Link said to himself, speaking aloud the name he had come to learn for the cursed item. His recent travels had confirmed the theories he and Afton had discussed; the mirrored shield he had once owned was, in fact, the Dark Mirror—the very same that had been ‘stolen’ from the forest in the north-west of Hyrule. Whoever had taken it, it must have been a good deal earlier than the White Maiden had suspected, for somehow it had ended up in a deserted castle by the canyons of Termina. If it had stayed there Ganon would have never been able to conjure Link’s shadow to trick him into releasing Vaati and none of the events of the past three days would have ever happened. The princess and the Maidens of the Four Sword Shrine would not have been captured and imprisoned in their own crystals, the soldiers and knights of Hyrule would not have been possessed by evil magic, and the other peoples of Hyrule would not have suffered equally terrible maladies. If the Shield of Agony had stayed in Termina…

Unwittingly, by carrying it back with him through the portal from Termina those few days ago, Link had brought it directly into Ganon’s reach. Shortly after Link had returned with the shield it was stolen by Ingo, the ranch-hand, in a petty act of thievery. Then (according to Rubeus’ remorseful spirit) Ganon had stolen the shield from Ingo and left him alive to serve as his spy. With the Dark Mirror the King of Evil brought Link’s shadow to life and unfolded his scheme to induce chaos and pandemonium in Hyrule.

And now here it was before him again. The Dark Mirror thrummed invitingly, beckoning for its once-owner to reclaim it. But Link paused; the silhouettes of the four young men barely visible on that enchanted cloud bank high above Hyrule. Surely it could not be this simple…

Somewhere in the distance lightning flashed, calling into existence the silhouette of a fifth dark figure as a faint rumble rolled across the cloudscape. The figure had the shape of the hero, but none of the substance. From within the hollow sockets of its eyes glowed pinpoints of red light. His shadowy sword was in his hand. As if the sun were always at his back, Link had become accustomed to seeing his shadow preceding him wherever he went these days. He stepped forward, leaving his other three selves behind.

“He’s mine…”

A thunderous boom almost preceded the lightning flash, turning the world of darkness into raucous day for one infinitesimal moment, the sound rolling off across the cloudscape like a horde of Gorons down the slopes of Death Mountain. The Shadow swung his dark blade casually, sauntering toward his real counterpart. “So, you’ve finally found me. Can’t say I’m surprised. You are me, after all…and I am an ingenious one, aren’t I…? I see you’ve made use of the feathers of that Helmaroc I sent after the Gorons. Kind of funny how they bellowed when they saw the bird. To think; rocks afraid of a roc!” He cackled loudly at his joke, sounding like the shaking of glass shards.

Link drew the Four Sword from his back, tucking the Roc’s Feather under his belt. “You’ve caused enough trouble.” Link settled his right arm into his father’s shield. “This is where it ends.”

“I’m so scared!” The Shadow mocked, causing a shield of its own to materialize. “In fact I’ve been waiting for this moment. The moment when I cease to be ignored, unheeded, unnoticed. No one has outlived their shadow—neither will you.”

And like a starting signal, lightning flashing for the third time, booming out over the heads of the mortal enemies—Light and Dark, Real and Unreal—the one the exact opposite of the other. Swords clashed, shields bashed and stroke for stroke the Hero and his Shadow equaled each other for skill, strength and cunning. By the strobe of electric bursts in the surrounding thunderheads the match waxed more vicious, more frenzied, and more reckless. Once, twice blood was drawn and where the shadow was parted it was reformed the next instant. Again and again the Hero took risks that should have ensured him victory, but he was rewarded only with the satisfied cackle of his foe.

Link knew he had to reassess the situation. He leaped away, recovering from the rage of the battle. His Shadow simply smirked and stalked from one side to the other, maintaining its distance. Link’s other selves would be no help in this battle; his shadow was only regenerating every time he struck it. He had fought and vanquished countless copies of his shadow before, but there was something different about this battle… Link shook his head; it was so difficult to think with the heavy throbbing tone of the Dark Mirror ringing in his ears…

And then a shaft of light opened in the thunderhead above them casting a brilliant light over their cloudy arena. For a moment the Shadow winced and staggered back while out of the column descended the princess Zelda.

“Link, you have to stop!” called the princess’ voice from the edge of the magic circle which held the Dark Mirror bound. “He’ll only keep regenerating; the Dark Mirror is sustaining him!”

The column of light dissipated and the Shadow finally recovered. Before he had a chance to recapture the princess, however, Zelda spoke a single word and a protective blue prism appeared around her. The Shadow snorted his irritation. “She’s a smart one, your princess,” the thing sneered over the mirror’s tones. “What is she now, your girlfriend?”

“Shut up!” Link shouted. “She’s smarter than you!”

“Well, at least you admit it…”

“Link, don’t let him get to you,” Zelda interrupted. “I’ll have something ready in a moment; just hang on!”

“Oh, great. The princess has an idea.” The Shadow laid his sword on his shoulder dispassionately. “Well, I guess we’ll be here awhile. Anything you care to talk about?”

“You heartless little imp…” Link’s face twisted up in a bitter sneer. “You aren’t ashamed of anything, are you?”

“Ah, now heartless I am,” clucked the Shadow as he puffed out his dark, empty chest. Somehow having his shadow agree with him did not do anything to quell Link’s anger. “But shame? Hah! For what?” The thing crossed its arms.

“You lured the Darknaughts to their deaths.”

“Oh, no…” rebutted the Shadow. “Ganon and I only invited them into my world… They were quite comfortable there until you came along, I might add. In fact you killed them, if truth be told…” The thing chuckled with glee, like the sound of glass grinding under the heel of a boot.

“You know nothing about truth,” Link responded. “You’re a lie yourself.”

“And I suppose you know about it?” It lowered its piercing red gaze on the boy. “You don’t know what’s real. You believed you were a forest spirit until just last month. Crying over not having a fairy; Oh, woe is me, I haven’t got a fairy—pathetic. And then you go trying to get Navi back as if she wasn’t incredibly annoying…”

Link ground his teeth, fighting the urge to respond.

“…And then there was that time when you thought you could cozy up to an older girl. I mean, let’s be honest; you were a ten-year-old in a teenager’s body. Zelda would have never gone for you and neither would that half-brained ranch girl…”

“Zelda…?” Link jaw was clenched so hard his ears whined with the pressure.

“Wait Link; it’s not ready…! This circle is made of ancient magic…” She continued mumbling to herself and weaving her arms around each other, but Link could not tell what she was saying.

Link’s shadow gave Zelda a fair appraising look. “Then again, she might go for you now that you’re mentally the same age… Oh, who’m I kidding? You still think you’re a fairy!” The Shadow crooned, amused at this.

And like a harassed dog released from its chain Link flew at his shadowy counterpart, sweeping the Four Sword in wide arcs. Again the battle ensued, the combatants deflecting synchronized blows with their shields, dodging and parrying in perfect unison. And then—

“Guys! Now!”

Three new combatants leaped into the fray and the Hero-Made-Four attacked the Shadow from every side. Where one attack was deflected another three landed and with each blow the Shadow was hacked into finer and finer shreds. Finally the thing lay in ribbons, disjoined and inert on the cloud-floor. The Hero-Made-Four sighed in relief.

Link looked up. “Hey Zelda, I guess we didn’t need your help after…”

“Look out!” called three male voices, and Link’s foot was suddenly pulled out from under him. His face hit the enchanted cloud surface and sprang back, throwing his head at an odd angle. Only just in time he rolled away from the swing of a shadowy blade and stood on his feet again, casting his watering eyes about to see what had happened. When his vision cleared his heart sank to his stomach.

Where one shadow had been—cut to ribbons—now there were four, each staring with hollow red eyes.

“Uh, Zelda? A little help?”

“Cheeky boys…” muttered Zelda. She threw up her hands and an enormous globe of churning light sprang into existence, casting its brilliance over the scene. The quartet of shadows cawed and shrank back as the eye inscribed in the magic circle slowly closed. The throbbing tone of the Dark Mirror became less frequent and finally, as the shadows cowered from the white blazing orb, the last note sang and was lost to the thunder and wind.

“Gah!” cried the Shadows, shielding their red eyes with their insubstantial arms. In the light of Zelda’s orb they were revealed for what they were: a mockery of reality; no more than illusion. Link and his other three selves rested their blades on their shadows’ thin, frail shoulders.

“You deserve to disappear and never return,” said Link, his chin lifted proudly.

Link’s shadow chuckled weakly under its hand. “You really think you’ll get rid of me? I’m your shadow. I’ll always be lurking… Always…” It twitched, visibly weighed down by the light of the princess’ orb. “Besides, I’m not really your enemy. You are… You—”

But without permitting any further discourse, the Hero-Made-Four slashed through the smoky essences of their foes, parting each of the shadows in two. The four dark figures wavered, flickered, and blew away like so much smoke in the blustering wind.

The magic circle holding the Dark Mirror dissolved into powder and likewise dissipated. Zelda recovered the mirror from the cloud-floor and held it firmly in her arms. Link exchanged a look of weariness with the princess. It was done.

The Shadow was no more.

[End of Interlude. Please see further posts for Gods of Shadow, an original tale of courage brought to you by the Hero of Geeks!]

Prologue
RISE of the HERO or “All Four One”

“Vi! Get the bow!”

It was three days ago that Link, the Hero of Time, had taken the ancient Four Sword from the sanctuary in pursuit of his own Shadow.

“Why me? Why is it always me…?”

A young man of eleven years sped across the dimly lit one-room dungeon at the base of the Tower of Winds. His purple tunic was soiled with dirt and grime in many places and his face was covered with perspiration and fatigue.

“Link, you have to hurry!”

The boy faltered only a moment, and then regained his focus: the bow was just ahead, beside the hoof of the thirty-foot bipedal boar that loomed above him. But a massive hairy blue fist stopped the boy short, impacting the ground just to his right, throwing him to the cold stone floor.

“Insects! Stay still so I can put us all out of our misery!”

Ganon, the beastly King of Darkness, swung his huge trident overhead. The wicked-looking weapon struck the ground with a crackle of green electricity, nearly skewering the boy’s right foot.

Vi rolled away from Ganon’s attack, but when he stood his right leg gave way, numb from the electric shock. “A little help here, guys!” he called, massaging the feeling back into his limb.

“Blue, with me! Red, give us some fire!”

“On it,” said yet another young man. He was identical to the first except that he was garbed in red. He carried a rod of metal tipped with a large ruby. The red-clad boy pointed the rod at Ganon’s feet and out of the ruby leapt a line of fire, throwing the shadows of six figures dancing on the walls.

Ganon did nothing. A gritty black aura materialized around him and the fire billowed harmlessly to either side. “How quaint,” said Ganon, chuckling. “You think a little fire will hurt me? It’s amusing how simple you all are.”

Red turned the rod around, staring into the ruby. “It should have worked. It’ll work…” he said, pointing it at Ganon’s feet again.

“Not helping!” called a blue-clad boy, and the report of an explosion reverberated off the walls. The Dark King staggered away from a growing cloud of smoke, caught off guard. Vi quickly rushed in and grabbed the bow, retreating to join Red and Blue. Blue was holding a bulbous plant above his head with a dried stem sticking out. It was a bomb flower, the ‘special crop’ of the Goron race. “Try it again, Porky!” Blue taunted. “C’mon, swing your fancy fork again and see what happens!”

“Ugh! Duped by insects! I’ll teach you to regard the King of Darkness with proper deference…” The floor rumbled as Ganon’s cloven feet fell one after the other like miniature earthquakes, closing the distance to the three young men. Ganon brandished his trident. Blue lowered his bomb toward Red’s fire rod. “Wait!” said Ganon. Blue stopped. “Where’s the other one? There were four of you…” Then a pained bellow erupted from Ganon’s throat and he fell to one knee. The fourth young man—clothed in green—emerged from behind the beast, brandishing his sword threateningly.

“Call me insect again and you’ll kneel with both legs next time!” taunted Link, the very Hero of Time. Ganon’s tusked mouth bent in a pained sneer as he leaned on his trident. “Zelda, are you ready?” the boy-hero called, never taking his eyes off the beast.

“Just now!” called Zelda. The young princess was hunched in the corner. Her dress was soiled from the many flights of stairs they had travelled and torn from narrowly escaping the numerous monsters that plagued the enchanted edifice. On her back was slung the Dark Mirror she had recently recovered from the Realm of the Heavens. Presently her eyes were intent and focused as she concentrated magical light into a dense ball between her outstretched arms. Bands of energy weaved in and out of the orb. She raised her hands and the ball hovered over her head. Never taking her eyes away from her task she said, “It’s ready, Link—make this count!”

“Vi, get an arrow ready!” said Link.

“I know, I know,” said Vi, hastily knocking an arrow to the bowstring.

But before any of them could react, Ganon raised his trident, crackling with sickly green energy. “I am not so easily defeated, curs! You have been thorns in my side long enough!” The green energy collected in a globe it the tip of Ganon’s trident. “Now die!” The King of Darkness struck the butt of the Trident on the cold stone floor and five balls of green light sped directly at each of Ganon’s enemies.

In perfect concert, Link, Blue, Red and Vi responded only just in time to deflect the balls of energy with the flats of their blades, sending them careening off into the walls of the dungeon where they flashed into nothing. Stark bursts of green light shot through the room like a show of fireworks, briefly illuminating six faces from all sides. Zelda threw her arms forward, the sphere of white light colliding directly with the last sickly green ball in a flash and a crackling. The orbs of white and green were wasted.

The princess exhaled wearily as the last tendrils of white light vanished. She pulled her long white gloves from her arms. “Hold him off! I’ll have to make another one!”

But this was not so easily done, for in the time that Ganon had bought himself he was preparing another spell. Now he was making great leaps around the room, here fading out like the wink of a firefly and there appearing where there had been nothing before. The Four-That-Were-One wasted no time, but positioned themselves so as to intercept the Evil King wherever he was in the dim chamber. Ganon struck out with his trident, but he was not prepared for the efficiency of the four young men who acted in concert to foil him at every side. Again and again the Trident of Power struck out and every time the blow was parried, dodged or deflected. But neither could the Hero-Made-Four cut the hairy blue hide of the beastly king; the foes were at a draw. And then Ganon saw that Zelda’s second orb was nearing completion.

The King of Evil withdrew a pace. “Enough! I will end this charade. You have bested and driven off that foolish wretch of a wind mage, but you will not best me! You four ruined my plans when you defeated my first Shadow, but I have stolen the power of the mirror for my own; I can create as many as I please! Behold, I summon forth your Shadows to fight for me!” And when Ganon raised his Trident a shining green globe appeared at the tip, casting short shadows behind each of the four heroes.

Link, Blue, Red and Vi turned to watch as their shadows wavered, bent and lifted themselves off the floor, becoming more and more solid by the moment. A pair of hollows appeared in each of the shadows’ heads and sinister red lights stared back at the heroes as they witnessed the shady forms disconnect from their own bodies. The Shadows paused only a moment before they drew dark blades from dark sheaths and set upon their real counterparts. Ganon gurgled his evil red laugh.

“Oh, not again,” Vi whined, ducking as his shadow’s whistling weapon whipped over his head.

“Don’t worry, Vi,” replied Red, deflecting a dark blade, “we’ll think of something.”

“Shut up and fight you morons!”called Blue, checking his red-eyed foe with a thrust of his shield.

Rolling around his opponent, Link raised himself from the ground in one fluid motion, slashing up his shadow’s back. The sword parted the shadow clean in two, but the next instant it reformed. “Zelda!” cried Link, “we need that light!”

“It’s almost ready,” called the princess over the clashing of swords. “Hold on!”

But in the next moment Ganon saw what Zelda’s work would do to his dark creations. “No! You thwart me for the last time, Princess; bow to the power of your Dark King!” Sickly green energy glowed brighter at the end of the Trident and then the butt of the weapon struck the stone floor.

Zelda threw her arms forward, the sphere of white light gliding away around the room. And where it passed overhead the Shadows withered, shrinking back to the floor where they rejoined the heroes who cast them—gone as quickly as they had come. The princess threw her arms up; Ganon’s crackling green missile would surely strike her. But suddenly Blue was there and the ball struck him full in the chest, knocking both him and the princess back into the dungeon wall. The stone of the wall cracked audibly and the two fell to the floor.

“Zelda’s light is coming back around,” shouted Link. “Now or never Vi!”

Vi pulled out his bow again, taking aim with a single arrow. When the sphere of white light circled back, the purple-clad boy loosed the shaft and the arrow’s head connected with the white orb. A flash erupted as the light was instantly imbued into the arrow. The arrow sunk into Ganon’s chest and he bellowed angrily, wailing and writhing, entwined by swarming, searing tentacles of light.

Zelda groaned, recovering from the shock; the Dark Mirror had saved her from the brunt of the impact. She saw the beastly Ganon writhing before her and then Blue, sprawled in her lap, senseless. “Oh, Link! Link, I’m so sorry! Thank you,” she said, and kissed his cheek. She gently eased his body to the ground and stood, cradling her ribs. In her other hand she clutched a small grey stone amulet. Maidens, she thought out, bind him, quickly!

One by one six colored lights appeared in the dungeon and became six young women, surrounding Ganon’s writhing form. Then six colored orbs appeared above their heads and these condensed until they became pinpricks of brilliant force. Ganon’s movement slowed until he was motionless, bound in a cocoon of bright white threads.

“The Four Sword, Link!” Zelda called. “Use it now!”

Link raised his sword, rushing forward and thrusting it at Ganon. It did not even strike the Dark King before it stopped, unmovable in midair. Link’s instinct was to pull back, but his hand would not move; it was somehow bound to the handle of the sword. Then all at once it seemed that Ganon’s cocooned form stretched, warped, and came away in a swerving beam of red light.

The Four Sword shook violently, drawing the red light into its blade. More and more of the demon-beast was pulled in, vanishing as it fused with the ancient weapon. Finally, when all of the red light had been drawn into the blade the Maidens and their lights vanished. The princess of Hyrule and four young men were left in complete darkness…

Complete, that is, except for the angry red glow that now saturated the Four Sword. The blade vibrated with renewed intensity—Link’s grip failed him.

“Help! Guys, help!” Link called, becoming desperate. In moments Vi and Red were there, steadying Link’s hands with their own. Still the weapon shook—it was not enough. “Where’s Blue?” called Link. “Blue!” The blue-garbed hero was still on the ground, motionless. The three young men looked at each other and thought precisely the same thing; without Blue they would not be able to maintain their hold on the Four Sword…

Zelda bent over Blue and pressed her palms to the young man’s chest. Her hands were aglow with a white light and something seemed to be drawn out of her; her face fell, veiled in darkness for a moment. After another few labored seconds, Blue stirred. He sat up, becoming aware of his surroundings just as Zelda fell to the floor, unconscious.

“Zelda, no!” he cried.

“Blue!” said Vi, the three young men still struggling to keep the Four Sword steady. The Tower began to rumble ominously, casting sheets of dust from the ancient walls. “Blue come on!”

Blue quickly kissed Zelda’s hand. “Thank you,” he whispered, and he dashed to aid the others. He gripped the sword’s hilt with one hand and the pommel with the other. The walls groaned, throwing gouts of dust from cracks in the cut stone and what seemed like an eternity passed, the sword threatening to free itself of their grip, their fingers and hands straining against the effort. The sword’s red glow dimmed, the sword calmed, and with a last labored convulsion, finally fell still. Four young men exhaled wearily, still holding the weapon that had imprisoned the spirit of the Dark King. For a moment all was quiet.

Then something stirred in the corner of the dungeon.

“Zelda!” called Blue, remembering her. And the next moment he was at her side.

* * *

The Four Sword Sanctuary was suffused with a sense of anticipation. Three days ago the Four Sword had been taken from the altar and now the Hero-Made-Four had returned to replace it forever. Zelda was standing before the pedestal of the Four Sword, the Maidens surrounding her. Red, Blue and Vi stood with Link.

Zelda lowered the Dark Mirror from her back and rested it against the pedestal of the Four Sword. “Are you ready Link?” she asked.

Link was called out of reminiscence. “Yeah…” He looked at the other young men. “Actually, hang on a second; for once you get to wait on us…” The princess rolled her eyes. “Hey guys: box formation.” The four boys turned to face each other like well-practiced soldiers. Link spoke in a low voice so only the other young men could hear.

“So, I guess we’ve had our differences…and I suppose we still will. But I just wanted to say—”

Blue gave Link a flat look. “You’re not going sappy on us, now are you?”

“What? I just want to remember us, you know? I mean how often does a kid get to meet three of himself?”

“Jeez,” said Blue. “We just got done beating up everything Ganon threw at us and then sucked him into a magic sword and you go nostalgic? You gotta be like; ‘Hey guys, we were awesome! Ganon never stood a chance!’ ”

“…and it’s not like we’re going to die or anything,” added Red. “I mean you make it sound like we’re all gonna die, sometimes…”

Link chuckled to himself. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Then he noticed Vi was quiet, shuffling his feet. “Anything you want to add, Vi?”

Vi looked at Link, then the others, then his feet. “Oh, nothing,” he said, flattening out his tunic.

Link put his hand on Vi’s shoulder. “Vi, whatever it is you have to say I’ll know it here in about a minute anyway, but I want to hear it from you… Now, what is it?”

Vi looked at Link. Link had always been stunned at how honest his eyes were. “I think you push yourself too hard,” he said timidly. “You never stop helping people, and it’s good that you do, it’s just…” He trailed off.

“He’s right,” said Blue, folding his arms.

“Yeah,” said Red. “It’s good to take some time for yourself now and then.”

Link looked at the three of them, taking all of this in. He nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. I will. Thanks, guys.” He put a hand on Red’s shoulder. “What do you say we pack this up?” Link drew the Four Sword from the sheath on his back. The other three drew identical swords from their sheaths. “Wide formation!” shouted Link and in a moment they were arranged in a line before the altar. “We’re ready, Princess.”

“Then place the Four Sword in the pedestal,” said Zelda patiently.

Each of the four young men set the tip of his sword on the altar. The moment the blades touched one another, the swords brightened, becoming a brilliant white. The weapons fused together, and with them their wielders, their forms blurring, glowing with the same bright light. One moment there stood four young men holding four swords, and within seconds there was only one young man, his face and clothing as white as the blade of the sword that he slid into the pedestal. When he released the handle of the Four Sword, the white glow vanished and he remained a normal young man clothed in a tunic and cap of green.

Zelda and the Maidens acted in concert, pressing their palms together and bowing their heads. In moments seven colored lights sprang into being and entwined the Four Sword and the Dark Mirror, fluxing, hardening and finally forming a shining red pyramid over the sword and shield. When Zelda was sure the seal was secure, she let her hands down and let out one long, weary sigh. “It is done,” she said. Then she turned to the six young women. “Thank you. All of you.” Each of the six maidens bowed and one by one they vanished in little colored globes of diminishing light.

Link pondered the enshrined Four Sword: some days ago he had drawn it out of desperation to combat a shadowy version of himself, and now here he was longing for it still. He had once wondered what it would have been like to meet himself and within the last week he had met so many different versions he was certain he would never see himself the same way again. The experience had been jarring but Link felt he was the wiser for it.

Then Link became aware that Zelda was beside him. She slid one satin-gloved hand into his. He gripped it firmly. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly. She put her other hand on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, turning to look at her. Half his mouth smiled. “Yeah, I think I am.” And the other half of his mouth completed the arc across his worn face.

A grin forced its way into Zelda’s cheeks and she blushed. She looked down at Link’s boots. “I wanted to thank you,” she finally said. She looked up at him again, her eyes darting over his face, pausing on his straw-like hair—matted and unkempt, his green cap—soiled and ratty, his small pointed ears. And his green eyes—so kind and… “Thank you for saving me…” she said quickly. Tears formed in her young blue eyes. “I…” she faltered, looking quickly away.

Then Link leaned over and kissed Zelda’s cheek. “I care about you,” he said. Zelda’s face shot back to look at him. Then Link’s face went an unexpected shade of pink and he laughed. It was a short, nervous laugh but before Link could feel ashamed for it, Zelda threw her arms around him. He caught her and held her fast to avoid falling over.

“Oh, Link,” she said between joyful sobs. “I think you’re the finest, bravest person I’ve ever met. And I think I… I…”

“It’s okay,” said Link, patting her back. “It’s okay. Just…let me hold on to you for a second.” He closed his small arms around her more firmly.

And in the dim quiet of the Four Sword Sanctuary, surrounded by the Royal Jewels of the four elements, they held each other; the Hero and the Princess of Hyrule.

* * *

After leaving the Four Sword Sanctuary, the Maidens took it upon themselves to deliver the news that Ganon had been defeated and imprisoned. All of Hyrule rejoiced that their land, once clouded over with darkness, was bright once again. The townspeople praised the Goddesses that they were safe and hailed the name of Link, the Hero of Hyrule. Toasts were made to him; people shouted and ran in the streets joyfully. The land had been delivered; ‘Prepare to welcome the Hero!’ they called.

And so it was that when Link and Zelda emerged from Hyrule Castle they heard the cheers and shouts of the people outside the castle gates and wondered at the music that was played. And when the guards opened the enormous wooden doors to the town the children were greeted by throngs of people all shouting and calling out Link’s name. Zelda pressed her hands to her mouth and Link stood wide-eyed, both of them awed by the enormity of the celebration that had been assembled with more and more people gathering by the moment.

Zelda smiled. “Well, go on!” she shouted over the noise of the crowds. “They’re waiting for you.” She reached for his hand, squeezed it once and then let go, stepping back a pace.

Link wasn’t sure what to do. He had never been received like this before. He scanned the crowd for a familiar face but he realized very quickly that he didn’t really know these people: there was that woman that he had overheard haggling every time he passed—that pair of brothers who juggled and always thought their jokes were funnier than they really were—and there was that short-haired shop-girl Link had seen once or twice—but why they would want to gather like this was beyond him. Then a wry thought crept into his mind; I know how to play along…

The first idea that occurred to him was to draw his sword and wave it high, but the Four Sword was sealed in the sanctuary and the shattered remains of his gilded sword had long been left behind. So the only thing that was left was to pull his father’s shield from his back and hold it above him. The hollering masses raised a triumphant cheer of acceptance. A grin crossed Link’s face that he could neither prevent nor wish away. He was a hero in more than name, now. He was a living legend.

Then the words Afton had said about a knight’s shield rang in his mind and he felt the slightest twinge of guilt. It was his duty to protect Hyrule: he was a knight, and Captain of the Royal Guard. Or at least he would have been if he had ever had the chance to fight at the Tournament and be officially accepted. He lowered his shield and slung it over his back again. He wanted the people to know that he was just doing his duty, like his father.

“I’d like to say something!” he shouted over the cheering crowds. It seemed they didn’t notice. He raised his hand. “I’d like to say something!!” he called louder. But this only made the crowds cheer more heartily. He raised both hands. “Please…!” he shouted, but the people took it as a cue and someone rushed forward, grabbing him by the knees and lifted him up on their shoulder. Everyone crowded around, reaching out to touch him. Then man who had grabbed him started walking away from the north gate, off through the town. Link turned around quickly. “Zelda!” he called. But she was not there. Where would she have gone? he wondered. Why would she leave? When he had finally accepted that she would not appear again, he turned and looked where the people were taking him, parading him around the town like the hero he was.

* * *

High in the ramparts of Hyrule Castle, Zelda looked down at the people of Hyrule, flooding the streets like water to greet their hero. “Enjoy it, Link,” she said to herself. “You deserve it.” In another moment the crowds had disappeared deeper into the town and were lost from sight. Zelda sighed and stepped away from the window.

* * *

A wagon shambled over the underbrush of the forest path. It was small and had a door on the side where the words “Happy Mask Salesman” were painted in bright happy colors. 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 porcelain masks and scary metallic 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’s appearance did nothing to describe its driver, however, who was decidedly grumpy despite his invariable, unsettling smile.

“Yah, Brutus! If I have to get out again I’ll make you wear the Bunny Hood…In fact, I’m a little tempted to do it anyway…” The pony pulling the small wagon neighed and drove harder against the drag of the bracken. “That’s better,” said the Mask Salesman. “Stupid Castle Town Market. Every time I set up shop something goes wrong. First it was that stick-kid who came in wearing my Skull Mask. Made like he wanted to trade, but while I was suggesting a Goron Mask he up and takes one of the forbidden ones.” Brutus threw back his mane and neighed. “Hey, it wasn’t my fault; I didn’t have a chance to put it away. What’s your problem? Then that fairy kid came back asking for another mask to borrow… ‘I want to look like a Gerudo, now…’ ” said the salesman in a mock female voice. “What an idiot. Serves him right for getting turned into a Dekku Scrub.”

Brutus neighed again. “Yeah, well who asked you! Serves you right, too. At least he got me my mask back! And then when I finally get back from Termina to set up shop again some freak storm blows in and all my business goes into hiding. I swear, only now when I’m finally on my way out of the stupid place does the weather clear up. Yeah, well, who needs ‘em anyways?” the salesman shouted into the growing darkness. “They’ve got their fancy parties and all I’ve got is you…” Brutus nickered. “Shut up and just get us outta here. These woods have never been anything but trouble for me and I don’t intend to stay here any longer than I have to. Go on! Get going!” He shimmied in his seat impatiently. Nearby, a set of eyes watched him, glowing orange in the darkness.

The forest around them was unfamiliar. Each time the Mask Salesman had driven his wagon through these woods the paths looked different. Somehow, though, he always ended up somewhere else, which was precisely where he wanted to go. The sun shining through the deciduous trees left a dappled shadow on the forest floor. It was becoming darker and more difficult the further in they went and the salesman became wary. A light breeze rustled the leaves above.

“What was that, Brutus?” said the salesman. The pony stopped. “I didn’t give you permission to stop you mangy mule, I just asked what that sound was!” The pony began pulling again. “Probably some trickster out to get us. Faster, I say!” An eerie giggle reverberated through the clearing. “Do you hear that?” The pony did not stop. “Quit moving when I ask you a question, you ass!” He kicked his pony in the rear and it stopped. “It came from up ahead. Take that path there, to the right, Brutus. Well, go already!” The pony shambled to the right. For some time the Mask Salesman was quiet, listening. He glanced around the edge of the wagon but saw nothing other than his own masks, swinging from side to side. “There’s no one there, Brutus. Now you’re just making me paranoid…” But when the salesman turned around Brutus had stopped.

Perched on the pony’s back was a child, ostensibly made entirely of sticks. The child’s eyes glowed orange, and on its head was a peaked hat made of straw. For a moment everything was still while the salesman and the child considered each other; then the child threw its head back and laughed. It was a jarring, unsettling laugh that made the salesman’s skin crawl.

“Not you! Get off! I’ve had enough of you!” And the salesman reached down to the footboards of the wagon and retrieved a long purple wand. When he looked up, however, the stick-child was gone. “Hey, where…”

There was a rattling from behind. When the salesman turned he saw the door of his wagon swinging ajar and heard the mischievous giggle reverberate from inside. “No! Not in there! Stop! That’s dangerous…” The Mask Salesman jumped out of his seat still carrying his wand. “Quit! Get out of there!” He said, rapping the sides of the wagon with the wand. Finally, he threw the wand to the ground in consternation and jumped into the wagon.

Brutus nibbled at the small plants near his hooves while sounds of a struggle came from inside the wagon. Giggles and shouts followed one another until the salesman finally hollered “Go!” Brutus raised his head and started to plod away. “Not you, stupid mule, the… Stop it, you, put that down!” But Brutus ignored his driver and just kept walking. “Brutus, you imbecile! My wand is back there!” And the Mask Salesman rolled out of the wagon, running down the path to retrieve his wand. The moment he turned around, however, his wagon was speeding away. He heard an eerie “yah!” and an unsettling laugh.

“Grr! Come back here, Brutus, you equinius ridiculus!” The salesman jogged after his wagon, bending to one side with a stitch. The salesman had almost reached his cart when his leg cramped and he fell to the ground. It sped off even more quickly than before. “No!” yelled the salesman, and waved his wand over his head. The pin in the wagon tongue came loose and the wagon unhitched from the yoke, halting in its tracks.

The Mask Salesman got up and hobbled over to the wagon, inching his way around to the front, using the railing for support. There was Brutus, still walking away, a little ways ahead. And there, running deep into the underbrush, was the stick-child. Just as the stick-child was on the edge of sight, the salesman saw them; two of the salesman’s masks hanging around the kid’s neck. The salesman’s breath caught in his throat. The kid giggled, ducked behind a tree and was gone.

The way you write is still pretty good, but I feel that you went through the Four Sword Adventures segment too swiftly. Also, what happened to the Twinrova Sisters? Now, I understand that you might be setting the stage for the Oracle games, but at the moment it just seems like you forgot about the witches.

I'm not sure what to say about your portrayal of the Happy Mask Salesman. While his kindness might be an act in this story, that doesn't seem to be addressed very well, so it just seems like he's acting completely out of character. Also, I doubt that the Skull Kid would rob the Happy Mask Salesman for a second time after MM, since he seemingly became a good person in the end of that game. Or at least a better person.

Gamer: I'm glad you say both of those things. Keep reading.

Chapter I
SILVER KNUCKLE or “Lost and Found”

Four days ago
Abrum was crouching against the outer wall of the pyramid, his head bowed. Then he noticed the air suddenly become very quiet. Lifting his head Abrum saw the storms of sand cease; he could see the night sky again with the perfect round moon high above him. There on the horizon was the ruined Gerudo Fortress, a cloud of dust still surrounding it, lit up like the breath of some demon far underground. And to the north he could just barely make out the head of the Desert Colossus, the Shrine to the Sand Goddess.

“I’m an imbecile,” he said to himself. His voice was lost to the sounds of desert windstorms and churning sand all around him. “Just as well,” he thought aloud, “I’m no one to be heard anymore…” Treating Asera as he had when she had always ever loved him… He couldn’t decide what punishment might be more fitting for him; to crush himself under some great stone or let the storms of sand consume him.

Then, as if in response to this thought, the wall behind Abrum rumbled and he jumped to his feet. Louder and yet more violent the pyramid shook, casting centuries of sand from its slanted face. Abrum stared at the wall where he had seen the door before, the wall shaking again and again with the punctuated pounding of some massive fist. Finally, the stones shifted and the wall began to open. And there—emerging from the pyramid like a butterfly from its cocoon—was a sight that defied Abrum’s ability to comprehend: a gargantuan humanoid boar holding a wicked-looking trident. Its blue-haired pelt rippled over cords of dense muscle and as it crawled out of the doorway and stood before Abrum on cloven feet. The monster grunted and squealed maliciously when it saw him, and out of the trident shot a globe of searing green light that struck Abrum in the chest, flattening him to the sand and knocking him unconscious. Before his consciousness faded completely, however, Abrum thought he heard the sound of a wicked red laugh.

* * *

“My love,” said a voice somewhere in the distance; odd, yet somehow familiar. “My love please, please wake up!” Abrum became aware that he was being shaken and that the wind around him was whipping sand in every direction, particularly over his raw chapped face. When he opened his eyes he could only see a strange silhouette against the bright light and swirling sand.

“Asera?” he croaked. His mouth was so dry. He coughed and spat sand.

“Do not speak, my love. We must get away from this place.” Abrum felt his body being pulled upward and he did his best to move away from where he was. Then something must have caused the sand around him to stop blowing for he heard the wind but could no longer feel the sand grate against his body.

“Where are you taking me?” Abrum croaked.

“Hush, now. We’re going to the Desert Colossus. There will be provisions and…”

Abrum’s weary form fell limp and he heard no more.

* * *

Abrum awoke to darkness. The first thing he became aware of was the cold. The floor on which he lay was intolerably frigid against his raw back. After this was the stiffness. He tried to sit up, but his muscles burned and his joints protested with needled arguments. He tried to relax, his nerves reeling from the aftershocks of this pain. His voice had gone from him, being replaced by a raw, dry sensation in his throat. He did not know whether he was alive or dead, but if it was the former he wished it was the latter.

What seemed like an eternity passed and he gradually became aware of light entering the room. His damaged eyes perceived what must have been the ceiling and the wall directly in front of him as vague geometric shapes described by the distribution of the light that fell on them. He managed to turn his head from one side to the other with tolerable discomfort and discovered that there was another wall to his right, but not to his left.

Then he heard footsteps. They were faint, but distinct, and they were coming from somewhere far away to his left. Abrum guessed that the owner of the footsteps was female; they must be wearing a kind of slipper or other soft-soled shoe. For a moment the faint light in the room dimmed and then returned. Then the footfalls became louder and followed very even intervals; they were climbing a short set of stairs. This coupled with the vague shapes of the room around him made Abrum think that they must be in the Desert Shrine—but surely that was impossible; he could never have been brought so far without magic, and who would help him now that he had estranged himself from Asera? Besides, he reasoned, she lost her magic to the Hylian witch’s curse just as surely as I did. Ganon, that wretch, had his witch-aunts helping him reach the Pyramid. And he realized with indignation that it had been a malformed Ganon who struck him with that magic blast from the Trident. If Abrum could remain alive his revenge on the villain would be the first thing he would seek.

When the footfalls were right beside him Abrum suddenly considered what might happen to him if it were an enemy… He did not have long to ponder this, however, for the person spoke.

“I have brought you something. Drink.” The voice was female, and Abrum thought it sounded like Asera, but something was different. Her voice was choppy and reverberated with a mechanical tone; it was not so unpleasant as alarming. Smooth glass was pressed to his lips, and his head was lifted so he could swallow. The drink was warm yet refreshing, and immediately the rawness in Abrum’s throat began to subside. In moments he felt vigor returning to his body. The floor was still cold, but he found he could move his muscles with tolerable discomfort and his joints did not ache as badly. When he had drunk all of the liquid the voice spoke again. “I will return with more. Don’t move.”

Abrum found that with all the good the drink had done him he had little choice but to remain where he was; his muscles still did not allow him to move more than a few inches. The mysterious woman returned shortly with more of the promised drink. This time the woman pulled him up against her and let him drink from the smooth glass container. After the second draught he was able to sit on his own. “How do you feel?” said the woman.

“Where did that drink come from?” said Abrum.

“There is a small oasis outside. There are fairies there,” said the woman. So a fairy spring was nearby; this confirmed to Abrum that they were inside the Desert Shrine. When Abrum did not respond the woman spoke again. “What can you remember?”

“Let me see you,” said Abrum. He wasn’t sure if he could be certain of anything in this place and if this woman wasn’t Asera he wanted to know that he was being deceived.

The woman was silent for a moment. “My love you must believe that it is me.”

“I said let me see you,” he insisted.

“I do not look the same, love. Please do not be angry.” There was a flare as of the flame of a candle springing to life and Abrum squinted at the sudden brightness. The steady light cast itself on the figure before him, still a blur to his damaged eyes. He could not tell who the woman was, but she seemed to be wearing a long flowing black robe and a curious gray headdress over her copper-colored hair. Also, to his astonishment, he realized that her skin was colored with stark divisions between white and black forming swooping designs all over her body. He thought she might be from a distant part of the world. But why would she be here, he wondered, tending to my wounds, and impersonating Asera?

“Why do you call me your love?” Abrum asked, testing her. When he saw the woman turn away for a moment he thought he needed no response, but he waited to hear what she said. Finally the woman answered; she was weeping.

“I see you will not be satisfied. Then I will tell you our story so you will know that it is I. Ten years ago I bewitched you, love. I regretted it, but it had to be done. Ganondorf wanted to get into the Hylian’s Temple. Once he got inside he would need someone to draw the Blade of Evil’s Bane from its pedestal so he could enter the Golden Realm. Someone pure of heart; someone who knew nothing of his plans, or the Blade would not allow itself to be drawn. That is why Ganondorf sent us to dance for the Sheikah, and bent our allure to his gain—to ensure that one of them would come willingly. But as I danced I found something that I never expected. I didn’t think…I would actually begin to love…” She cradled her head in her hands for a moment, then cleared her throat and forced herself to continue.

“When he found out I wanted you, Ganondorf was furious. He demanded that I kill you; he wanted no loose ends. But I pleaded with him, begged him. I promised him that I could keep you loyal to us, that I could keep you…under control. I’m so sorry for how this sounds, love, but I offered you to him as a servant. I said you could be the one to draw the sword. He agreed, but at the price of my life if you failed.

“But when we got to the Temple the Sanctuary was locked. You never had the chance to draw the Blade. In his anger Ganondorf threatened you, tried to kill you. I defended you saying you knew about the Sheikah magic—that you could teach him; blend your magic with his; make him stronger. It wasn’t the same as the Triforce, but it could get him closer. He agreed, but on the condition that your memory should be erased and that I was responsible to keep you loyal. If you ever betrayed us my life was forfeit.

“I never meant to hurt you. I never had anything but love for you. After the witches erased your memory I tried to help you remember what you meant to me, what I hoped I had meant to you. You helped us fashion a new magic from what you knew of Sheikah sorcery and Ganondorf let you stay. After you had proved yourself in the Training Grounds and on some of our minor raids he was convinced of your skill and promoted both you and me to his personal guard. Until yesterday we have served him thus; you because you knew no different and I because not to do so was to forfeit both your life and my heart.

“You were still the man I knew and fell in love with, Abrum, but without any knowledge of your life before the Gerudo. I have never bewitched you since, and I thank the Goddess whenever I think that I have your love—given freely and without compulsion.” She laid her hand on his. “That is why I call you my love. Because before you ever loved me, I loved you.”

For a moment Abrum could say nothing. He wept. No imposter could speak with such conviction, such devotion. His eyes tried fiercely to see through the mist of blindness and see her face, but it was of no use. “I have had you before me these many years Asera, to look upon, to love. And only now when I am blinded can I see. Yes, my love. Now I see that you always loved me.” He laid his head down in her lap, weeping. “I am sorry, my love. I am so sorry. Please…please forgive me.”

Asera said nothing but cradled him in her arms, stroking his hair, kissing his face with her tears.

* * *

Asera had made their camp just inside the Desert Colossus, out of the burning heat. This Shrine was where Ganondorf and his minions had made their base of operations; Asera and Abrum knew it well. There were pots of provisions stored in the entryway and along the back wall of the main room. They knew that there was a secret hatch to the floors above through the ceiling, but this was always opened by Ganondorf’s witches and Asera and Abrum had no way to access it from below. There were, however, a good many plateaus outside that served as excellent scout stations. It was a defensible—if somewhat uncomfortable—hideout.

As soon as Asera had arrived and secreted Abrum’s body in the main room she climbed the plateau to be certain of their security. Some few of Ganondorf’s remaining minions might come here to seek refuge, she thought. Ganon had lost favor with the Gerudo when he destroyed the fortress and any of his underlings would surely be outcasts now.

For the first day Asera watched the wastes every hour to be sure they would not be joined by any unexpected visitors, but the wastes were undisturbed in their tumultuous churning of sand and heat. It was likely that Ganondorf’s other minions were either captured by the Hylians or killed in their exploit a week hence. When none arrived by the second day Abrum and Asera were certain that they were the only ones left. It seemed no one knew of their presence.

After he was shocked unconscious by Ganon, Abrum’s body had been torn apart by the desert winds. Asera did her best to help him regain his strength; every hour she gave him another draught from the nearby fairy spring and soon his health returned in full. But it seemed not to matter how healthy his body became, his sight simply did not heal.

Asera had also undergone a drastic physical change. Asera explained to Abrum that Ganon had tried to kill her and left her for dead within the pyramid. What happened after that had altered her appearance, but none of her determination.

“When I awoke,” she explained, “I discovered that I could not find my way out. No matter how much I explored there was no avenue for my escape. The place was cold, dark and haunted by evil. I was trapped and desperate. Then I recalled when the Hylian witch had summoned those light-creatures to drive our magic from us.”

A week previous when Ganondorf, Asera and Abrum had infiltrated the Sanctuary of the Temple of Time they were halted by the Hylian Sages. In the midst of the battle, the queen of Hyrule had called upon the Goddesses. Then three light-spirits had appeared each in the shape of some conglomerate animal. Abrum had been subdued by a gigantic owl-moth that had crushed him to the floor. Abrum remembered the experience with distaste. “Yes, I recall.”

“As our magic was drawn from us it was hardened into the shape of a Great Helm,” she recounted, “and then it was broken. I stole one of the pieces before we escaped the Hylian Temple.”

Abrum was astonished. “You… Do you still have it?”

“Yes,” she said. She brought Abrum’s hands up to her head and let him feel what was there—the ‘headdress’ he had seen on her head before. Abrum felt two stylized horns under which two eyes would have been set. As it was, this piece of the helm had only one eye; another piece would have the other, he presumed. “When I could find no way of escape in the pyramid, the broken shadow magic I had saved was my only hope. It provided me with a means of escape, but the light-creatures must have cursed it. When I tried to use it I…changed. Now I am what you saw the day you awoke here.”

Abrum considered this. “I am more glad to have you as you are,” he said, “than not to have as you were. Though it seems it does not matter anymore,” he said chuckling. But he was sobered when his hands came up instinctively to the bandage around his eyes.

“No, my love, do not think less of yourself,” said Asera. She quickly grasped his hand away from the bandage. Then she kissed each of his cheeks just below his eyes. “I love you as you are.” This allowed his mirth to return.

“Imagine us, a pair of misfits; me a blind Sheikah-betrayer and you a Hylian-cursed Gerudo witch. Our peoples would never accept us, no kingdom would ever harbor us; we have neither nation nor home. Nothing but each other.”

“And it is enough, love.”

“Yes,” said Abrum, kissing her hand. “It is enough.”

* * *

As soon as Abrum’s body would let him, he and Asera returned to their usual sparring regimen to keep themselves at their physical peak. Asera had lost her scimitar to the sands and so it was left for them to focus on hand-to-hand combat. It was difficult at first for Abrum to fight with his damaged eyesight, but when he finally resigned himself to his blindness he was able to adapt. With each spar his technique improved. After three days he had developed a heightened sense of hearing that allowed him to fight blind as well as he ever had with his sight. Better, in fact, as it gave his opponent a disadvantage if there was no light at all.

In the meantime Asera was also adapting. With only a portion of their previous magic she was forced to improvise. As she practiced her craft, however, it seemed her skills had not entirely left her—she had always been an ingenious sorceress—and within the same three days she was able to incorporate much of her magic into a kind of ritualistic dance.

Periodically Abrum would remove his blindfold to test the limits of his damaged eyes and watch Asera practice her routines. Even with limited sight, he was awed by her talent and grace. As he watched her move, her vague form suggesting poise as well as fluidity and a kind of hidden ferocity, he remembered why he had fallen in love with the Gerudo dancer.

* * *

It was not until the third day that they began to hear sounds from the other chambers of the Shrine. The main room was closed off on one side by a great stone block—far too heavy to move for even the strongest of Hyruleans—and on the other was a crawl-space too small for any but a young child to fit through. It was through this hole that the sounds were heard.

Abrum detected them first. He was meditating in one corner of the main room when he thought he heard something echo deep in the Shrine. It seemed like nothing, but then sound became louder. Asera was sitting in the center of the room reciting incantations to herself.

“Asera, listen,” said Abrum. She was silent.

“What is it, love?” she whispered.

“There are…sounds coming from behind this wall.” Abrum set his head directly beside the hole.

Asera listened intently. “Yes, I hear it, too.” Sure enough there were the sounds of faint clangs many rooms away. “It’s must be something metallic.”

“And heavy,” Abrum added. The sounds were approaching. Abrum also noticed that the sounds were very even; whatever was making them was moving deliberately through a familiar space. “Something tells me we’re not alone,” he said. There was something about the sound that seemed familiar to him. As the clangs came closer his mind strained to remember what it was.

Asera noticed Abrum’s concern. “My love, what is it?”

“Do you recall those tall suits of armor that stood in the corners of the inner rooms upstairs?” he said.

“Yes, love.”

“Have you ever seen one move?” The metallic clangs were very close now.

“But they’re just suits, love. Surely, they couldn’t be Iron Knuckles—those were just another of Ganondorf’s impossible demands; one of the witches’ failed experiments…”

“That’s what he told us, but… Shh! It’s inside the next room.” The sound of clang, clang, clang came directly up to the crawl-space and then stopped suddenly. Just in time Abrum rolled away as thick chunks of stone were knocked out of the wall by a huge curved axe-blade. Another swing of the axe produced a hole large enough to collapse the rest of the wall and reveal the source of the mysterious sounds.

Torchlight poured into the room from behind the tall figure, glinting off the heavy, impenetrable armor covering its massive body from crown to heel. Its keen double-bladed axe was half its height and almost as wide. It moved slowly, but what it lacked in speed it made up for in strength. After the dust cleared enough for it to see, it raised its weapon high above its head and bellowed angrily. Upon seeing Asera in the center of the room the Iron Knuckle advanced. Heaving up its mighty axe, it brought it down directly on top of her. To its disappointment, however, the axe passed through thin air and struck the solid stone floor, cracking the flagstone in two. The image of Asera wavered, fluxed and finally disappeared. The Iron Knuckle grunted in astonishment.

The sound of the axe hitting stone gave Abrum his cue. “Asera, douse the lights!” he called. Asera’s steely voice reverberated from the far corner of the room, chanting some brief words in an ancient tongue. The next moment the room went pitch black and the astonished Iron Knuckle grunted again. It swung its axe wildly in the darkness, aiming vaguely for Abrum.

Abrum dodged the axe deftly, testing the Iron Knuckle’s defenses. Every clank of the armor told Abrum more about his opponent. It swung its axe in even, fluid motions which meant that its armor was weighted evenly on all sides. The layers of its armor plates also grated as it moved which meant that the buckled straps that held the armor to its body would be protected by the outer plates. Abrum dodged again and another of the Iron Knuckle’s swings landed just to his left, cracking the stone floor. Then an idea occurred to Abrum and he rolled away from the Iron Knuckle toward the broken stone wall.

Digging among the rubble Abrum found a thin shard of rock that had a good edge on it—this would do for his knife. Springing away just in time to avoid another slam of the axe, Abrum rolled around the Iron Knuckle’s legs. Just after it swung again Abrum leaped on to its back and shifted his weight, forcing it to lean forward. He thrust his hand under one of the splayed outer plates and found one of the straps with his hands. Just then the top-heavy Iron Knuckle fell over, throwing Abrum to the ground. Immediately, Abrum’s side burned and for a moment the wind was knocked from him. When he recovered he felt for his side and discovered that his stone knife had sliced along his ribcage, opening a wound as long as a hand’s breadth. Abrum could hear the Iron Knuckle advancing, closer every moment. Abrum gritted his teeth and stood, brandishing his knife. This time he would be ready.

Abrum feigned a wounded groan and immediately stepped to one side. As he expected, the Iron Knuckle bellowed triumphantly and brought its axe down where he had been only moments before. Then he circled around, leaping again to the Iron Knuckle’s back and gripped the collar of its backplate firmly in one hand. With his free hand he severed the straps that fastened the Iron Knuckle’s armor to its body. When the Iron Knuckle leaned forward again it only succeeded in removing itself from its backplate and, suddenly unbalanced, careened headlong toward the nearest wall. Abrum leaped away from its shoulders and landed on the floor a few feet away. The Iron Knuckle’s helmeted head smacked into the wall with a crunch and it fell to the ground, motionless. Moments passed, but Abrum did not hear it stir. Then a new sound was heard in the darkness; a muffled female groan. It issued out of the Iron Knuckle’s helmet.

Something clicked in Abrum’s memory and he gasped. “It couldn’t be…” Abrum thought his ears had deceived him. “Asera, come quickly!” he called.

The light in the room was restored and in moments Asera was at Abrum’s side. “Are you hurt my love?” She gripped his hand.

“Not badly. Though I wonder about our friend…”

“What do you mean ‘friend’?” asked Asera. But Abrum didn’t need to answer; the Iron Knuckle had come to and was turning over. Finally it pulled off its helmet.

“Asera, I’d like you to meet Raean.”

Asera took in the sight of her. The round ears and scarlet hair told Asera she was a Gerudo for certain, and by the look of her she must be forty or fifty years of age; well settled in her prime by Gerudo standards, who might live to be as old as four hundred.

Raean shook her head dazedly and pushed herself up to a sitting position. It seemed she had no trouble moving the massive armor she wore. She groaned again, putting a hand to her head. “Where am I?” she said, finally looking up. “Who are you?”

“Let us help you,” said Abrum, kneeling carefully next to Raean. Asera followed suit. “Asera, the armor…” Asera guided Abrum’s hands to Raean’s breastplate which he helped her lift away.

Raean unbuckled her shoulder pieces and collar, letting them fall to the ground. “Thank you,” she said, leaning her back against the wall. She closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Yes you do,” said Abrum. “You must have forgotten just as I did.”

“Forgotten what?” Asera said, trying to fathom what he must know that she did not.

“I’m not sure how, love,” said Abrum, “but I feel as if a fog is clearing from my mind. I remember…I was imprisoned here. Raean, you were my cell-mate for a time. Ten years ago I was brought here to have my memory erased, just as you were. You told me you were brought here under the pretense that you would be one of the Shrine’s keepers, attendant to the Goddess. You served faithfully for some time, but then things went horribly wrong; they started to imprison the attendants. Then they began removing them from the cells one by one. None of them ever came back. I remember night after night hearing the sound of metal on stone; the feet of the Iron Knuckles as they were making their rounds, patrolling the prisons. Then one night there were no footsteps.”

Raean’s eyes widened with comprehension. “Yes. And you told me about someone. Someone you loved…”

“Yes,” said Abrum, squeezing Asera’s hand. “Asera has done more for me than any other, and nearly the only one I can call friend. She was a Gerudo, once. Now we are outcasts; enemies of our own people. Her appearance is due to the curse of a Hylian witch.”

Raean gasped, recalling. “Yes… You told me about her the night they took me. What happened to me?”

Abrum reached into his memory. “The witches were on edge, and they came for you—said you were to be a ‘special assignment.’ ”

“They wanted my gauntlets,” said Raean, brandishing her silver bracers. “But I would never give them up. These have passed from mother to daughter ever since they were enchanted by my great-grandmother. They make the wearer as strong as the Gods.”

“It is no wonder you have survived this long,” Asera said, admiring the craftsmanship of the gauntlets. “They are well-made.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Since they could not have them they brainwashed me and made me into this.” Raean recounted. She stared at the room around her and marveled. “I have spent twenty years in the Shrine and half of that was under the spell of those cursed witches. And now to think that I have escaped by the very axe they placed in my hand.” She gripped the handle of her twin-bladed axe more securely—as if in veneration. “And what happened to you, Abrum?”

“Soon after they took you they came for me,” recounted Abrum. “Iron Knuckles escorted me to a chamber. The witches were there, and they…”

“And we what?” said an aged woman’s voice.

“Brainwashed you?” echoed a second voice, nearly identical to the first.

The sound of cackling followed like thunder after the flash, and both Raean and Asera snapped to attention, on their feet in half a moment. Raean brandished her axe. Emerging from the gaping hole in the crumbled wall were the two elderly witch-twins, Koume and Kotake, hovering on broomsticks in mid-air.

“Come come, now, pet,” said Koume. “Why haven’t you taken care of these little intruders?”

“You wretches!” Raean screamed, raising her axe over her head. “I serve you no more!” She brought her weapon down on Koume, but the witch disappeared in a puff of red smoke. Halfway across the room she reappeared on her broomstick, unharmed.

Abrum followed all of this with his keen hearing. “I knew you two would come when your minion failed. It seems she has come to her senses.” Under the cover of his voice Asera began reciting an incantation.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” said Koume. “It’s a shame our little pet has turned on us, Kotake.”

Raean drew her axe back again.

“Don’t move, Raean” said Abrum under his breath. Raean restrained herself, no less alert.

“But three pets are better than one, Koume,” said the other witch. “It looks like we will have to teach these children a lesson ourselves.” And in concert the witches drew back their hands and threw balls of flashing red and blue magic.
Immediately, Asera muttered a final ancient word and spun in place. The balls of magic spun about the room wildly, fizzling into nothing when they collided against the walls.

“Curse you, witch!” said Kotake. “You and your Sheikah-boy have ruined our plans enough. The Great Ganondorf will hear of this. Koume! Fire-and-Ice!”

But before either of the witches could move, Asera had already leaped into action, moving in sweeping, dynamic motions. As if unable to turn away, the witches stared at Asera’s magic dance. At times her movements mesmerized the witches, at others confused them, so that soon they were drawn to where Asera was, coming closer and still closer. Then, as Asera came out of a twirl, fire flew from her fingertips and caught on the witches’ robes. Koume and Kotake shrieked in terror, coming to their senses.

“Now!” called Abrum. And the next few seconds were a flurry of action. Abrum sprang from the floor and grabbed the handle of Kotake’s broom, pulling her down to Raean’s height. Raean swung her axe over her head and brought it down on top of Kotake, but not before the ancient witch had disappeared in a puff of blue smoke and reappeared on the back of Koume’s broom. Raean’s axe shattered the broom in Abrum’s hands, sending splinters flying in all directions along with blue and white sparks. At the same time Asera threw her hands around in circles and then shouted something incomprehensible. A great gust of wind blew from deep in the Shrine and caught the ancient witches, throwing them out of the Shrine’s main archway, far past the plateaus and into the burning, churning sands, shrieking all the way.

When it seemed the witches would not return, Raean exhaled heavily. “Thank you again. You have both saved me from slavery and rid me of my captors. It also seems I owe you apology.”

“What for?” asked Abrum.

“Nearly killing you, for one,” said Raean, slinging her axe over her shoulder. She nodded toward the wound along Abrum’s ribs.

“She speaks of your scratch, love,” said Asera.

Abrum smiled. “Don’t give yourself that much credit. My wound is my own doing. You were merely a good challenge.”

“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” Raean replied. “Still, I am indebted to you for freeing me.”

“Oh, well as for that, you can thank your soft head,” Abrum replied.

“Pay no mind to Abrum,” said Asera. “We are grateful for your part as well. If you hadn’t come to us my love might not have regained his memories.” She slipped her hand into Abrum’s. He kissed it gingerly.

“I suppose I had no choice, but you’re welcome all the same,” said Raean. “In the meantime we should be moving; the witches will untangle themselves eventually and I know they have at least one more Iron Knuckle somewhere in the Shrine. Are you staying here or will you come with me?”

Abrum became sober. “Where do you intend to go?”

Raean noted his seriousness. “Back to the Gerudo Fortress, of course. It has been over twenty years since I have seen my sister. Why?”

Asera was silent.

“Tell her,” said Abrum. “Tell her what the Gerudo king has done.”

Raean became livid. “What is that crotchety old man up to this time?”

It took a moment for Asera to understand she was talking about the previous Lord Ganondorf. “It must have been just after they brought you here, Raean. Our previous king left us. One day he was there and the next he was gone. For days we were frantic. The older women saw it as an omen; they believed the Goddess had taken him to watch over the desert. In truth he abandoned us. But it is not him of whom we speak. It is he who betrayed even the Gerudo, his own people.

“The boy Ganondorf became our king as soon as he emerged from the Training Grounds,” Asera continued. “Some said he had a demon; some said he was not our king at all, but an imposter; others claimed something horrible must have happened to him inside the Grounds. But one thing was certain: the boy grew more and more evil as the years passed by. He became greedy, selfish and twisted. Yet more evil than his father, if that were possible. I served him for years, but there were those who would not. Your sister was one of them. Soon there grew a division among us; those who served the Lord Ganondorf and those who tolerated him.

“Lord Ganondorf led his followers in devious intrigues. He was after more than just the survival of the Gerudo, he wanted the Triforce; that cursed Object that has only ever brought misery to Hyrule. Under Ganondorf’s command we went among the Hylia trying to find anything we could that would tell us how to get into the Golden Land. At length we visited the Sheikah and through a series of intrigues murdered their master, sieged the Hylian Castle and infiltrated their Temple. The Golden Land was within our grasp.

“Ganondorf would have succeeded in his object if we were not halted by the Sages. We were nearly defeated, but by our fortune we managed to escape. When we returned to the Gerudo Fortress, Ganondorf denounced his own people. Denounced them. He destroyed the fortress and in the end he left, just as his father did. He sought out the Forbidden Weapon in the Pyramid of Power and we fear he is still at large and more dangerous than he has ever been.”

Raean took all this in with mixed emotions. Finally she seemed resolved. “All the more reason for me to go back to the fortress…what is left of it. If I still have a sister to protect, then my place is at her side.”

Asera lowered her gaze. “I…could not say that I have any loved ones to protect. None beside Abrum, at least. I helped him…I helped Ganon destroy the Gerudo. I could never show my face among them again.” Abrum squeezed her hand. “No, love, I couldn’t,” she said, casting her eyes over Abrum’s bandages. “You would not see their faces, but it might be more than I could bear. I am too ashamed.”

“You, my love, have little to be ashamed of compared to my deeds. You, at least, have done what your king commanded. If what you tell me is true then I have willingly betrayed the trust and honor the Sheikah ever since I left them those many years ago. If either of us have reason to be ashamed it is I…”

Raean adjusted the axe on her shoulder and bent down to recover her helmet. “Look; all I know about honor is that it’s doing what you can with what you know that counts. All the honor of your people can’t make you one whit better. And as for shame, there’s no shame in asking forgiveness, if that’s what you want. Now, there are people out there, Gerudo and Sheikah alike, and if you want to leave them to Ganon’s nonsense then fine, but I’m going. Now are you coming or not?”

Abrum squeezed Asera’s hand and drew in a deep breath…

Chapter II
A NEW CAPTAIN for HYRULE or “Return and Report”

As evening fell over Hyrule the town was alive with dozens of small celebrations. The taverns were bustling, the courtyard had become a makeshift dance square—dimly lit by the streetlamps and torches—and vendors who would otherwise have been selling their usual wares were selling little coins, banners or figurines; impromptu souvenirs of the hero’s victory. It astonished Link how quickly the Hylian people could respond to mercantile opportunities.

Just after the sun had gone down, Link retreated to the steps of the north gate. Around his neck were garlands of flowers and he was followed by a small group of girls of various ages. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t let you in…” he said, waving them off. There were several sounds of girlish disappointment. “Sorry, only official royalty business, isn’t that right?” he said, turning to one of the gate guards with a smile. The guard did not look at Link but rolled his eyes. “Anyway,” Link continued, “I really must be going. Official royalty business and all…” The girls said their goodbyes with blown kisses and little waves and one of them returned his father’s shield with forlorn eyes. When they were gone Link crept behind the large wooden doors, closing them quickly after him. He let out a tense breath.

“I see you enjoyed yourself,” said a voice behind him.

Link spun around. It was Zelda. “Hey! Where did you go earlier? Why didn’t you join us?”

Zelda folded her arms. “It seems you had a big enough crowd.”

Link felt as if he had done something terribly wrong. He began removing garlands from his neck. “Hey, um…there’s still stuff to do. If you want we could go…”

“My father wants to see you.”

Link’s expression twitched involuntarily. It was odd. What with the king being away in Kakariko Village all this time and everything else going on to interrupt things Link had almost forgotten about him. He blushed; Link didn’t know what the king might want. “Is he…mad?”

“No,” said Zelda. She unfolded her arms. “He’s just gotten back. He wants to talk to you.”

“Are…you mad?” Link said, holding the garlands loosely in his hands.

Zelda looked as if she were trying to swallow a live insect. “No.”

“Okay…” said Link quietly. He shouldered his shield. Zelda turned and walked across the bridge toward the castle. Link followed, leaving the garlands in the base of a stone planter.

* * *

The last time Link had been in the Grand Hall of the castle he had been greeted by the king and queen of Hyrule and Colin—Link’s father and the Captain of the Royal Guard. It was a surreal feeling to enter the Hall again now realizing that both he and Zelda had lost one of their parents since that time, especially since he, Link, hadn’t even known who his father was at the time.

Zelda escorted Link to the middle of the Hall. “Wait here,” she said. Link noticed that she had gained a different mannerism somehow; as if being inside the Great Hall made her more proper, less of a child. The king sat in the middle of three seats on the dais at the end of the hall. He wore his traditional red coat and white leggings with his upturned shoes. On his head was the high Crown of Hyrule. Zelda joined her father in the seat to his left.

“Approach,” said the king.

Link obeyed, walking down the blue carpet with bated breath, wondering what the king might say. With each step a new thought occurred to him. Maybe he was going to welcome him back… No, thought Link, that wasn’t likely. He had told Zelda about where the Dark Mirror had come from and how it came into Ganon’s possession. Maybe he was going to arrest him. Maybe Zelda told the king that Link had kissed her and he was to be punished; he wondered if that was allowed. Link reached the foot of the dais with trembling knees.

The king looked markedly different somehow. It might have had to do with being sick for so long, what with Ganon poisoning him, but the king looked physically older and somewhat thinner. There were heavier creases under his eyes and his peppery beard and hair had more white now than reddish-brown. It seemed to Link that he was also sterner, if that were possible, and sadder. The king spoke, his voice as deep and commanding as ever. “Do you know why you are here, Link of the Hylia?”

Link felt as if it were an accusation, as if by being a Hylian the king was expecting Link to have conducted himself more honorably in some way. Link’s mind was aflutter with his previous thoughts of what offense the king might raise to accuse him. “No,” was all Link could manage. He felt that if he said anything more he might collapse from nerves.

“Then let me inform you. I wish to have a frank discussion with you concerning your future relationship to my daughter…”

Oh, here it was: Link was sure he was going to be beheaded, or thrown in the dungeon, or both, or worse. His mind reeled, suffering from the thought of eminent torture. “Yessir,” he said, wincing.

“I have heard of your behavior of late…” the king continued—Link wondered whether he could choose the way he was executed—“…and I understand that it has been most unorthodox.” Link’s legs were about to give way. He remained silent, afraid that any noise could topple him to the floor. “Further, I wish to congratulate you.”

“I’m sorry, your Majesty, I didn’t mean to!” Link blurted, falling to his knees. When neither the king nor Zelda spoke he looked up from his hands hesitantly. Zelda was giggling and the king had a look of thorough confusion.

The king addressed his daughter. “You were right, my dear; most unorthodox. Are you sure he’s not still in the shock of battle?” Zelda suppressed a laugh, shaking her head. The king turned to Link. “Your humility is worthy of your title, Link, Hero of Hyrule.”

Only then did Link comprehend what the king had said. “You mean, you’re not mad?”

“I told you he wasn’t,” said Zelda. It looked as if she were very satisfied, though.

Suddenly Link felt very foolish on the floor; humbled indeed. He stood up again, pretending he had never collapsed and feeling much better considering the circumstances. “Thank you, o’ great king,” he said, bowing deeply.

“It is well, Master Hero,” the king responded. “Now, as I said, I have somewhat to say to you concerning my daughter. She tells me you were absent for some time today.”

Link had to confess that was true. “Yessir,” he said. “I did get carried away…”

“Well, unsolicited abductions taken into consideration, you certainly took your time getting back. Under the circumstances I see the situation as forgivable, but I shall expect my daughter’s protector to be more prompt about his return when there is not an impromptu festival on his behalf underway. Am I understood?”

Link was overjoyed at the king’s tolerance. “Yessir,” he said meekly. He couldn’t help but smile a little.

“And enough of this ‘sir’ nonsense; I am the king, and the captain of my knights will refer to me as ‘majesty’ or ‘liege,’ is that clear?”

Link felt substantially more light-hearted now; more Koroki-ish. “Yes, my Liege,” he said, bowing deeply.

“That will do. Now, as a matter of formality you will need to be knighted and appointed captain. Nelson, my sword.” A guard came over with a beautifully decorated blade. It had a handle of silver and was encrusted with red jewels. At either end of the crossguard were two silver lions heads with another large red gem in each of their mouths. Hardly a blade for battle, Link thought, but beautiful all the same. The king took it from Nelson and stood. “Approach the throne, Link, Hero of Hyrule.”

Link was awed by the moment. He hadn’t expected to be knighted and appointed captain all at once. It seemed too sudden, though he had felt the weight of it ever since Impa had told him who his father was. He drew near the throne and now with every step his mind became more sober, more serious. This was both a high honor and a great responsibility. Link suddenly wished that Afton, his uncle, could be there to see him. But there was no stopping things now; he was standing before the king.

“Kneel,” the king said, and Link knelt. The king laid his sword on Link’s shoulder. “As sovereign of the united lands of Hyrule I, Daphnes Hyrule, son of Hansen, do hereby knight thee, Sir Link of Hyrule, son of Colin, by virtue of your deeds in defense of these lands and in honor of your sacrifices heretofore made to ensure the protection of the Royal Family. Further, I appoint thee as Captain of the Royal Guard, Elite of the Royal Knighthood. Rise Master Link, Captain of the Royal Guard.”

Link stood. If he had ever felt older than his age, it was nothing compared to the way he felt now. It seemed to him as if he had aged ten years in that moment, though he knew he still had quite a bit more growing up to do. “Thank you, my Liege,” he said, and bowed with one hand to his young breast.

A pair of small hands began clapping. Link was pleased to discover that it was Zelda. “Sorry,” she said when the king looked over at her. To Link’s astonishment the clapping continued and he became aware of someone else standing nearby.

“Well done,” said Afton approaching the throne. “Well done, Master Captain.” He bowed once to the king and once again to Link. “I am sorry for being late, but I had…other things to attend to.”

“It is better that you are here now, Lieutenant. The captain was about to take his seat.” The king motioned to Link to sit in the chair to his right. Link suddenly remembered that it was part of being the Captain of the Royal Guard to sit in council with the king and queen of Hyrule. He was frozen to the floor. He couldn’t take his father’s seat; he hadn’t even had the courage to sleep in his father’s bed. He turned to Zelda, weighed down by the thought…what would it mean?

But without Link having to speak Zelda understood him completely. “It doesn’t mean he’s gone and is never coming back,” she said, Link comprehending every word. “It means he’s a part of you, now. You have to take his place, because if you don’t someone else would have to and then it’s as if he truly is gone. So long as you sit there, so does he…” Link noticed the king bow his head for a moment, but Link didn’t stare; he knew he must be hearing his wife speak through the words of his daughter. Link remembered how much Queen Zethra reminded him of an older Zelda; now it was as if Zelda reminded him of a younger version of her mother.

Link sighed. He must sit in his father’s place. I have to, he thought. Link un-shouldered his father’s old shield and for the first time Link—Captain of the Royal Guard—took his place next to the throne of the king. The royalty of Hyrule was whole again.

“Well, I think we could all do with these,” said the king, and handed a handkerchief to each of those present. Link laughed, Zelda looked on her father lovingly, and Afton stood straighter, dabbing his eyes with the white cloth he was given. When the king had sat and dried his own eyes he spoke again. “I think it’s time we heard your report, Lieutenant. Link, this will be your matter of business to conduct, if you will excuse me.” The king blew his nose.

Link turned to his uncle. “Report, Lieutenant,” he said confidently.

“Of course, sir,” said Afton with a short bow. And the mood changed from reminiscent to sober as Afton summarized the outcome of Ganon’s most recent plot to overtake Hyrule. Afton recounted how he had gone to ready the Darknaughts for the Tournament when then they received word from the court wizard that the Wind Mage Vaati had just escaped from the castle in a whirlwind. He gave the reports of the surviving soldiers, how the Darknaughts fled to keep the Royal Jewels from Vaati at all costs, and then concluded: “…many of our knights and soldiers were overtaken by some form mind control and were used as pawns to overtake the kingdom. Some were lost in the battle that ensued. I and a small band of knights took up hidden positions within the castle to ensure that it was protected in the Darknaughts’ absence. Somehow Ganon’s influence reached even within the walls of the castle and we were forced to confine ourselves until Ganon’s occupancy abated. I defer the telling of the fates of the Darknaughts to you Master Captain, as I understand you spoke with them directly.”

Link recalled with some bitterness what had happened. “Thank you Lieutenant,” he said, and considered what he might say that was worthy of the Elite Knights. Finally, Link began. “The Darknaughts were some of Hyrule’s finest warriors. I sparred with them myself; they’re impressive opponents. Ganon caught and defeated them one by one. I was forced to fight them again, but this time to free both their spirits and the Royal Jewels. I used the Jewels to gain access to Vaati’s Tower and defeated the Wind Mage. While it was done in the service of Hyrule I also recognize their sacrifice and honor of their memory; may the Goddesses ever keep them, rest them, and praise them.” Link found his eyes were wet and his whole body shivering as if he had run a very long distance.

“Well spoken, Master Captain,” said the king, his handkerchief hanging uselessly from one hand. He did nothing to stop the flow of tears from his eyes. “You may not know that they were not only my guards but my brothers, and I could not have given a finer account of their bravery. Were that I was there to avenge them myself, but you have already done so in my stead.” He blew his nose again. “Do you have anything you wish to add, Zelda?”

Zelda raised her gold-haired head. Her expression was reflective. “The Jewels have been returned to the Four Sword Sanctuary. The Evil Ganon has also been imprisoned there, and we are confident the Maidens’ seal will hold.” She said no more.

After a respectful pause Afton spoke again. “We still have not heard from the Gerudo but we plan to send emissaries to them with a message of good-will as soon as matters are resolved here. What with the death of their king it will be important to establish friendly relations as soon as possible. With your permission of course, Captain…”

“That’s fine,” said Link, finding he needed to clear his throat. “Is that everything?”

Afton bowed his head. “The reports of the surviving knights have come in as well. The southern part of the land that was frozen in ice by Dark Magic is now thawing quickly. The northwestern forest was overtaken by a shadow of darkness, but it is beginning to clear. Generally, the people of Hyrule are in good spirits and celebrating the Captain’s victory over our enemies.”

“Thank you, Afton,” said Link. “Your Majesty, I offer you the report of my Lieutenant.”

“Well done, Captain,” said the king. He had collected himself considerably well. “My only recommendation would be to exercise caution when dealing with the Gerudo. It may be that they will not react favorably to our offer of friendship.”

“Thank you, my Liege,” said Link. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Also, you should know that by defeating Vaati you have brought the fears of many generations past to an end. It has been long since his tyranny was felt in Hyrule and there are many who remember those times—these may now rest knowing that he will never return.”

Link wasn’t sure whether it was right to feel proud when so many had given their lives trying to save Hyrule, too. “Thanks,” was all he could manage.

“Very well, and with that I think we should all get a little rest. Your ceremonial reception will be tomorrow, Captain. I will contact you via Gossip Stone when we are ready for you. Do try not to sleep in too late.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” But as the king rose from his seat Link realized that he wasn’t sure what the king had meant. Gossip Stones, in his experience, were standing stones scattered throughout Hyrule. “Sorry… Your Majesty? Which Gossip Stone should I stand by?” he asked.

The king looked at Link perplexedly. Then he turned to Zelda. “You did give it to him, didn’t you?” he said.

Zelda looked between her father and Link. “Yes…You do still have it don’t you Link?” When the king looked back to Link, Zelda made a motion at her neck.

“Oh, you mean the necklace?” he said, amazed. He pulled a pendant out from within his shirt. Ostensibly, it was a simple grey stone, but when activated it allowed two people to communicate telepathically. Zelda had given it to him just before they checked Vaati’s seal in the Four Sword Sanctuary. “You mean this is a Gossip Stone? But it’s so small…”

“Yes, well.” The king cleared his throat. “They were originally conceived in their larger forms as Sage Stones; a method for the Sages of Hyrule and the rulers of the races to contact each other in times of disaster or great need. When the power of the Stones was discovered, however, word spread quickly that they could be used to send messages to other Stones and so many people began using them that the flood of thoughts was too overwhelming to allow any further practical use. It also goes without saying that conversations via the Stones could no longer be kept private. They were dubbed Gossip Stones for that very reason.”

“I didn’t know Gossip Stones could do that!” Link said, impressed. The Gossip Stones he had come across always gave him a sensation that they were watching him, and while he had gained useful bits of information now and then he had never imagined he was hearing someone else’s transmitted thoughts.

“These pendants are a modified version of the Sage Stone, actually.” The king seemed genuinely excited to explain; it seemed retiring for the night would be put on hold just a little longer. “I developed them so that we could still communicate privately, not to mention their being much more convenient. It was mostly due to Rauru’s complaining if you’d like to know,” he said with a wry smile. “I had four of the Sage Stones placed outside of the Temple and still it was not enough. But don’t tell him I told you that. He would never forgive me. While the Gossip Stones are no longer useful for private conversations they remain my eyes and ears around the kingdom. If ever there is a disturbance near a Stone I will know of it immediately. And while we are on the topic, I don’t think I had ever imagined that you could dance so well.”

Link blushed. He realized that the king must have seen him celebrating earlier, and—by extension—so had Zelda. Link’s eyes flitted over the princess guiltily. She wore a look of tolerance; there had been a good many girls flirting with Link in between dances. “If the pendants are so special, why did you want me to have one?” he asked conversationally, eager to avoid speaking of the day’s events.

The king became more serious. “When Zelda told me her fears that Vaati’s seal was weakening I insisted she give you one of the pendants so that she could communicate with you if she was in need. You will be pleased to know that this one belonged to your father. A fitting circumstance, I think.” He stroked his daughter’s head. “Thank the Goddesses that you are here, Link, or I might not have my daughter.” He smiled. “As I said, however, I think we all could use some sleep.”

“Oh, no, of course…” Link agreed. He had slept in various uncomfortable circumstances across Hyrule over the last three days and was eager for a well-made bed (if not his cot back in Koroki forest).

“Good. Then I will bid you a good night. I plan on sleeping heartily before tomorrow’s hearty festivities. Lieutenant,” the king said, nodding.

“Your Majesty,” said Afton, bowing low as the king walked away from the dais. Every soldier in the hall stood to attention.

Link crept over to Zelda’s seat. “Why didn’t you call me here with the pendant in the first place, like you did before?” he asked in a low voice.

“We did call you, Link. You must have been having too much fun to notice,” Zelda whispered back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.” She slid out of her seat and followed her father. Link watched her walk away.

Afton cleared his throat. “Will the Captain need an escort to his quarters?”

Link did not look away from Zelda’s diminishing form. “Yeah, Afton, I’ll go with you.” Afton fell into step beside Link as he walked away from the dais. Link shook his head. “What’s with her, Afton? How was I supposed to know?” Link threw his hands up.

“You know Captain, I suppose I’ve never understood women. Not even my sister. What do you say to a little something before bed though, and we’ll talk it over. Oh, and I think I still owe you a birthday celebration.”

“Yeah, thanks Afton!” said Link, remembering. Afton had recently revealed to Link what a birthday was, Link having gone his whole childhood without celebrating one as he had lived among immortal forest-children ever since he could remember. He was just getting used to the idea of having one himself, but it sounded like great fun. “But do me a favor, okay? Let’s not go to that café we went to before. I don’t think I’m in the mood for soup.”

Afton chuckled. “Actually, I had a little something else in mind. It’ll have to be tomorrow morning, though. I think the official festivities are supposed to start at noon. We’ll have until then.”

“Sure! What are we going to do?” Link said becoming excited.

“Well it’s a surprise, you see,” said Afton mysteriously.

“Really? Why?” Link said, genuinely confused.

“Because that’s just how these things go…”

“Oh,” said Link. He supposed he still had a lot to learn about Hyrule’s customs.

* * *

That night Link and Afton talked in the mess hall of the castle barracks over a nice warm glass of milk and a plate of cookies. (‘Compliments of your admirers,’ said Afton.) They talked about their adventures, catching up on daring moments and death-defying obstacles. Link was recounting one particular moment near the end of his most recent quest.

“…and then Blue decided he had an idea, right, and so he goes through the portal and picks me up and carries me over this bottomless pit from the Dark World!” Afton’s mouth dropped open theatrically. “I know! Just think how I felt when I realized what he was doing. I’ve never been so scared in my life…and I was the one putting me in danger!”

“So how did that work, exactly? What was it like to have four of yourself?” The question would have sounded odd to anyone but Link. With his unconventional upbringing and the twists and turns of all of his adventures there was no way anything could seem impossible to him. It was, in fact, the ‘normal’ things that seemed not to fit.

“It was like…” Link paused between gulps to ponder the question. “It was like having brothers, I guess. But brothers that were so much like you that you hated them…”

“How do you mean?” asked Afton. He took another bite of his cookie. He chased the bite with a gulp of milk.

“It was like seeing yourself in a mirror all the time. When you never have to see yourself act stupid, you never really feel as embarrassed as you do when you’re watching. Does that make sense?”

Afton put his milk down. “I think so.”

“And it’s weird, because even when I knew they were all me, they seemed like different people. They were like parts of me…kind of slices of what I really am, even if I didn’t want to admit it. Like Red, for instance…”

Afton held up a hand. “Now wait; ‘Red’? What kind of a name is that? Which of you thought this up; to name each other after colors?”

“Well, it was the easiest way to tell, see? The tunics were all different and… Okay, well it’s a good story, so I’ll just tell it: So there I am in the Sanctuary, right? Well, I know my Shadow is in there because I saw it jump through the portal just before me. So I’ve got my Gilded Sword ready and my shadow jumps out of nowhere and swings at me with his sword and it looks just like mine but it’s made of smoke or something. So I’m blocking and dodging, and finally I’ve got him against the pedestal of the Four Sword and I come down hard on him but he dodges out of the way, right? And then my sword shatters into a million pieces—” Link spread his hands out theatrically “—which is weird because the smith who made it for me said it would never break…”

“Typical,” added Afton.

“Right, but now I haven’t got a sword and I know I’m not going to last long without a weapon and there’s nothing around… Then I see it: the Four Sword. And Afton it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen; perfectly balanced right next to the hilt, curved blade so it’s just as good at slashing as thrusting; I mean perfect. Well I go to draw it out of the pedestal, right? And right when I touch it this feeling comes over me. Like…like…” Link waved his half-eaten cookie around vaguely. “Like hearing yourself think, but not thinking what you’re hearing…?” Afton squinted, trying to comprehend this, but Link kept going. “And then there was this flash of white light and there were three more of me, except each of the other ones was wearing a different colored tunic. So after awhile we started calling each other after the colors we were wearing to tell each other apart and it just stuck.” Link’s mouth was getting dry. He shoved the rest of his cookie into his mouth and took another gulp of milk.

“And you say they all had distinct personalities…” Afton said, offering Link the last cookie.

Link took it from the plate, not really paying attention. “Right,” he continued. “Red was really optimistic but kind of depressed at the same time. Every time something bad happened he was right there with a ‘well, I’m sure we’ll find some way out of this mess.’ But then sometimes he was really angry, especially at Blue. They were always fighting. Seriously, it got kind of annoying after awhile. And Blue was really committed, you know, like he really wanted us to make it, but he was always doing things on the spur of the moment, and he’d always have the most hare-brained ideas; like the carrying-me-across-the-bottomless-pit thing. Or he’d say ‘Hey, I know! Let’s just jump down this hole and we’ll see if we can hit that switch with an arrow on the way down! One of us is bound to hit it!’ Sometimes I just wanted to make him listen to himself to see how ridiculous he sounded.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ve never had to make myself listen to what I was saying before…” Link punched his uncle in the arm. Afton chuckled. “And you said the last one was Violet?”

“Yeah, but he hated the name. He’d always get embarrassed and say he sounded like a flower so we shortened it to ‘Vi.’ He still wasn’t very happy with it, but it was better than ‘Purple.’ I mean how do you shorten that…? Purp?” Link said experimentally.

“Certainly not very dignified. What was he like?”

“Vi was…” Link’s thoughts wandered for a moment and he stared through his empty milk glass. “Vi was quiet most of the time. He always felt like we were forcing him to do things. But he really made me appreciate things, you know? Like even when we were travelling through southern Hyrule while it was frozen over he would stop to pull the snow off of a tree branch to watch it fall. Or he’d slide on the iced-over ponds while the rest of us were arguing about where to go next. He just enjoyed himself no matter what he was doing and he always took time to look around…”

For a long moment Afton sat there watching his nephew ponder. This was a unique moment for Link, Afton thought. Never would Link remember as well as he did now what this experience had done to him. After some time Link seemed to pull himself out of a daydream.

“Well, hey. I’d better get to bed. Wouldn’t want to sleep through the ceremony tomorrow, right?” Link stood and stretched.

“You know, Link, hearing about your stories makes me think you ought to write some of them down…”

“What, me? No, I couldn’t…” Link waved the idea away modestly. “I mean, Saria used to find books in the Lost Woods and she’d read them to me sometimes. She taught me to read and all, but I wouldn’t really write except to paint the signs around the forest. We even pretended to run a shop like I read about and they had me come up with numbers for everything. It was fun, but I haven’t ever written anything for myself…”

“So you never kept a journal?”

“Not really. The Koroki remember everything so they never had to write anything down. I guess being a Hylian explains why my memory was never as good as theirs…” Link yawned.

“Well, it looks like you’re tired, so I’ll let you get some sleep. And remember we’ve still got that surprise to catch in the morning…” Afton gathered up the glasses and empty plate.

“Right, yeah!” Then Link paused. “Wait, did you say catch?”

“Did I?” Afton said mysteriously. “Hmm, that’s interesting. Good night, Captain.”

Link smiled as he turned and walked away toward his room, pantomiming like he was fishing. He crawled into the Captain’s bed that night feeling happier than he had ever felt since the days when he was just a Koroki child without a fairy; long before swords and shields and quests; long before Ganon, long before he knew what it was to fear for himself, to fear for others he cared about. This night out of all of them he felt that things would be alright; even if bad things happened, it would all work out somehow. But mostly, he felt home.

* * *

Long after nightfall the Mask Salesman finally gave up and sat down on the turf under a particularly large tree. He heaved the pack off his back. It held all of the masks the salesman could not do without; and as there did not seem to be many he could live without, he was particularly overburdened. He would have had Brutus carry the load but after the way the salesman had treated him the pony was not about to oblige him. But the forest was lonely without company and the pony had followed the salesman through the wood all the same. He would not have said it, but the salesman was glad of the pony’s company too.

“We’re not going any further, Brutus. I’m tired.” Brutus nickered. “Oh, shut up. When you’ve carried an oversized bundle of masks on your back you can complain about it then.” The salesman stretched his legs, reclining against the tree. “Say, Brutus, care to find us some firewood?” Brutus shook his mane and knelt down in the plush grass, resting his head on the ground. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. It’s too bad that stupid stick-kid broke the wheel, we could have brought the wagon along…useless…” Brutus nickered again. “Oh, yeah, I guess it was me who broke the wheel. Stupid wheel; they never make anything like they used to…”

The Mask Salesman closed his eyes and his head nodded for only a moment, but in that moment he was fast asleep. Minutes passed, then hours. And then, just before dawn, a strange thing happened. A small green light emerged from a nearby tree and floated light as pollen, up to Brutus’ nose. Brutus raised his head and looked at the light. The light trailed away, staying close to the ground and leading further into the forest. By the time Brutus got to his hooves another two little green lights had emerged, identical to the first. Then, as Brutus clomped off after the lights, several more emerged from yet other trees and joined the procession. Brutus had gone some distance away, just on the edge of sight, when the Mask Salesman began to stir.

“Brutus, is that you? Did you bring some firewood for breakfast?” A moment later the salesman’s head shot up and he saw his pony walking away, following the stream of little green lights. “Brutus! Brutus, you get back here!” The Mask Salesman leaned against his pack and strapped it on, heaving it off the ground. “Come here you stupid mule!” he said, running deeper into the woods.

The lights were going faster now that the salesman had awoken and Brutus followed them diligently so that the salesman was always following some distance behind, nearly losing sight of Brutus at least a dozen times. As the lights led them through the bracken, the salesman thought he noticed the same gnarled stump at least twice. After some time—the salesman could not have said how long—the procession of green lights had stopped, and so had Brutus. The salesman saw the pony through some younger saplings some distance ahead, standing in the opening of a natural stone tunnel. The Mask Salesman readjusted the pack on his back and leaned against a tree, panting.

“Brutus,” said the salesman, staggering around the younger saplings. “You are so in for it…”

But the lights continued through the stone grotto and the pony followed behind them; between the stones, down a slope of earth thickly carpeted with grass. The salesman stopped at the tunnel, laying down his pack. “Brutus! Brutus I can’t go in there, my pack is…” But the pony had turned the corner and was no longer in sight. The Mask Salesman swore, rolling his pack into the stone opening. He pushed and pushed but try as he might the pack would not move; it was too big. Or the tunnel was too small. Yes, he thought; the tunnel is too small.

The salesman pulled his long purple wand out of the pack and rapped it against the stone of the tunnel. At first nothing seemed to happen, but then there was a faint grinding and the stones inched further and further apart. In a short time the salesman was able to squeeze his pack between the stones and continue.

Passing through the tunnel, the Mask Salesman emerged at the edge of a large circular clearing; a bowl of earth carpeted with enormous dead leaves each the size of a small rug. 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 dry and withered vines with large brown leaves. The whole floor was crisscrossed with a net of shifting shadows as the morning light filtered through the leafless boughs of the enormous tree in the center of the clearing. The salesman estimated the tree must have been at least half a mile high at its peak; the trunk itself filled almost a third of the clearing. But the most curious was a sight to outweigh it all: stretched across the near half of the tree, as if it were carved into the dead wood, was the rough face of a gnarled old man. The old man’s mouth was opened wide, and for all the salesman could tell the gaping hole would lead all the way to the tree’s roots. Brutus and the cluster of green lights had stopped near a small sapling to the left of the old tree-man.

Then, before the Mask Salesman’s eyes, the sunlight fell over the many green lights and in moments they were no longer green lights, but green children. Their clothes were like large leaves and their hair and eyes were like twinkling emeralds. They circled Brutus with their small bodies and all at once Brutus seemed to be not a pony, but a horse; tall, white and magnificent. Then one of the children climbed on Brutus’ back and the child appeared to be not a child, but a grown maiden with hair in appearance like green cornsilk and wearing a gown of surpassing elegance. And as the maiden rode on the horse’s back the other children became trumpeters and heralds, some going before the horse, some behind.

The Mask Salesman stared in disbelief. “What is this place?” he said aloud. And like a needle to a soap bubble, the words of the salesman broke the illusion and there was the girl-child riding the pony and the other children marching around. In concert they turned and looked directly at the salesman with their piercing emerald eyes. The salesman felt that he had done something unforgivable; as if by entering this clearing he was somehow subject to a law deeper than the earth. Just when the children’s collective gaze was set on him, however, something else began to happen.

From somewhere among the trees came a showering of narrow white leaves that glowed like lanterns with an internal pure light. The leaves swooped, gathered, dispersed and fell again without regard for the calm of the air in the clearing. If this were not enough, the Mask Salesman was certain these leaves were not the usual sort, for they fell not haphazardly, but toward a certain spot on the ground, directly before the dead tree. And as they fell they became not leaves but a venerable man, clothed in a white robe with a long voluminous beard covering his chest and long flowing white hair pulled away from his forehead displaying a prominent widow’s peak. On his apron was a symbol the salesman recognized from somewhere, though he could not have said where. Something about the robed man’s eyes made the salesman think he might be the father of the green children. Then the robed man spoke, and his voice was like the whispering of wind through a tunnel, reverberating like the sound of stones in a cave:

“Why do you come here, intruder?”

“I’m not an intruder,” said the Mask Salesman boldly. If he was to be accused he had rather defend himself. “I’m a merchant and I’m looking for my stolen masks. I’ve been trying to find the thief since yesterday. You wouldn’t happen to have seen a small boy made of sticks, now would you?”

The robed man paused before responding. “The boy you seek is not here.”

The salesman felt like this answer wasn’t good enough, but he didn’t know what else to say so he settled on repeating his earlier question. “What is this place?”

“This is the grove of the Great Dekku, father of the Koroki and life-giver of the Lost Wood,” said the robed man.

The salesman decided to keep the robed man talking. “Are these children the Koroki?” he said.

“Yes.”

The Mask Salesman berated himself for asking such an obvious question. “Are you the Great Dekku?”

“No. The Great Dekku is dead. I am his keeper until his life returns. I will answer any matters that concern him.” The salesman noticed the small stalk of a plant growing to the side of the massive tree’s dead remains. He surmised this was what remained of the Great Dekku. The robed man continued. “But if you do not have any further questions I will ask you to leave this place. I have another engagement to attend to.”

“Wait!” said the salesman. “You have led my horse, er…pony astray. In exchange for this inconvenience you can tell where I can find this stick-boy, if he is not here. He’s stolen my masks before; he deserves to be punished.”

The robed man paused again before answering. “This creature you claim as yours is neither horse nor pony and does not follow you out of obligation. Further, our laws are our own; we are not bound to deliver a breaker of those laws into your hands.”

The Mask Salesman was becoming impatient. “But I am entitled to the return of my merchandise, am I not?”

Pause. “If that is what you call it. The masks the boy stole are not simple merchandise, they are masks of great power; fearsome deities bound in mask form. Or did you not know this of your own ‘wares’?”

The Mask Salesman snapped. “I have reached the end of my tolerance, Keeper of the Wilted Dekku! I am the Keeper of Masks, and I know what I deal in. You, sir, are not who you seem to be. Let the deceptions cease!” And the salesman marched over to his pony, the Koroki reverting to twinkling lights and scattering like so many leaves. Then the salesman gripped Brutus’ long nose in his hands. When the salesman pulled away the pony’s face came off—it was but a mask. Underneath the pony’s mask was not a pony, but a man wearing purple clothing after the Terminan style with unkempt greasy red hair and a face that appeared to be constantly smiling.

The white-robed man blinked; now there were two salesmen who could easily have been twins, even if one of them was the worse for wear. The former-pony held his head in his hands and then collapsed on the ground, unconscious from shock.

Then, with sustained indignation, the Mask Salesman pulled on his own face. And underneath was not the greasy red-haired, purple-coated, smiling Mask Salesman, but a tall, hairless, brown-skinned, gaunt thing of a man. He wore a grass sarong and his body was covered all over with tribal tattoos and ritual markings. He stood proud and fierce and intimidating among the Koroki, who fled through the stone tunnel the way they had come.

“While we are discussing the nature of my masks,” said the brown-skinned man, “why do you not remove your own?”

The robed man hesitated. “I am under a solemn obligation, sir, never to reveal the true person under this guise unless it is absolutely needful. However, I know that you are also a man of obligation and that you would not have revealed yourself if this were not a matter of dire importance. Therefore, as I know what you are let it suffice for you to know what I am that we may be equally yoked.” The brown-skinned man nodded. The robed man then pulled his face away from him and all at once his body youthened and diminished in size until he was not a tall man robed in white, but a Koroki child with especially keen emerald eyes that sparkled as if he thought he was being very clever. It was Aako, the Sage of Forest. Aako replaced his mask and his body returned to its white-robed appearance.

“You!” said the brown-skinned man, his gaunt eyes widening, threatening to pop from their sockets. “You were at the bridge! You took Majora’s Mask those many days ago! How could you have deceived me?”

“I did not steal your mask,” said the white-robed sage. “But one of our number did so.” Some time ago, while Aako and the other Koroki children were playing, the Mask Salsman had passed through the forest and stopped just long enough for one of the children to take the cursed mask from the salesman’s wagon. “It was Felso, the Koroki child, who stole Majora’s Mask that day. He and his accomplice, Solfe, had been banished for their crime before you returned for your mask. They are no longer among us.”

The brown-skinned man calmed himself. He sat on the ground, tall even while seated. “But if it they had been banished then who was it that returned my mask to me on the bridge?”

“Her name is Saria,” said the sage. “She was riding your ‘pony’ just now; she is very fond of horses. It was Saria who waited for you at the bridge and delivered your mask to you.”

The brown-skinned man assimilated this. “And the stick-child who stole Majora’s Mask from me the second time…the one who has stolen my masks yet again?”

“His name is Skulki. But you will find that he could not have taken any of your masks after his first misdeed.”

The brown-skinned man eyed the sage skeptically. “What proof do you have? I saw him with my own eyes! How could you know that he did not take my masks?”

“Because Skulki has been here with us since his return from Termina,” said the sage. “Skulki, will you come out, please?”

At first the Mask Keeper thought nothing would happen, but then there was the sound of wood thumping against wood and a small boy made of sticks came up out of the dead tree’s mouth. He had small glowing orange eyes and wore a tattered straw hat. “What is it? Do you need me to bring up more water?” he said.

“That’s him!” cawed the brown man. “Where did you put my masks, thief?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been here forever—this nice bearded man gave me a job. Now I’m a gardener!”

“Thank you, Skulki, that will be all,” said the sage.

“Okay,” said the stick-boy. “Good luck finding your masks, mister.” He descended into the darkness of the tree’s enormous trunk again.

“But I saw him!” said the gaunt man. “I tell you that stick-child stole two very dangerous masks from me! You must understand this is a matter of utmost importance. You said it yourself; the masks are the physical prison of powerful spirits—deities of Termina called Sophia and Tempus. Possession of the masks is forbidden! I alone am permitted, by the appointment of the Gods. I have been entrusted with the Masks of the Gods as a form of penance for the crimes of my tribe. If I don’t get them back, the consequences would be cataclysmic!”

Aako paused again. “Explain yourself, Mask Keeper.”

The brown-skinned man seemed to be straining between haste and a need for guidance. If he did not explain himself he might not discover where the stick-child was. Finally, the need for guidance won out. “Once, many ages ago, my tribe sought to harness the powers of the Gods and bend them to our own gain. We did this in our hexing rituals using Sacred Masks. One of these was the mask of Majora, the God of Wrath; thank the Gods that its evil has been exorcised. Two others were those of Sophia and Tempus; Gods of Cunning and Decay. The fourth was the mask of the Unnamed One, the Fierce Deity, God of Vengeance.

“But the Gods were not pleased with our flagrant use of their power and they cursed us; destroyed us using the very means we used to pervert their magic. The Masks trapped the souls of those who wore them and enslaved them to the wills of the Gods. I alone was spared as a testator of our folly. My sentence was that I should live until the four Masks could be exorcised of the Gods’ power. If I should ever let the Masks into the wrong hands my soul would be damned.

“And so you see, it is imperative that I retrieve the masks of Sophia and Tempus, and I have no intention of leaving this place until you deliver to me the child who stole them, for twice now has he stolen my masks.”

Pause. “It is true that the thief has twice stolen from you Mask Keeper, but as I have said, Skulki has been here with us.”

The brown-skinned man stood, vehement. “Then tell me who has them!” he said, shaking one long brown gnarly finger in the sage’s face. “Who has my masks!?”

“Those who conspired to steal your Majora’s Mask at the first; your masks are in the possession of the children Felso and Solfe.”

Chapter III
FIRE and ICE or “Wicked Witches”

1360 HR

A boy dressed all in black emerged from the darkness of the Training Grounds. His face and hands and intense red hair were filthy. His clothing was saturated in perspiration…or all but the hems, rather, which were frayed and singed. Directly across his chest was what looked like the rip-marks of huge claws.

“Hey, kid. How’d it go?” asked a young Nabooru. “Took you long enough.” She leaned against the outside of the locked gate casually.

“Give me the key, woman,” said the boy. He approached the gate, glaring at her sternly. She retreated out of his reach.

“Not so fast, runt,” she mocked, “you’re supposed to find the key yourself.” Nabooru removed a silver key from her girdle. “I’m only supposed to use this if you fail—you know, to drag out your corpse so it doesn’t stink too much.” She laughed.

The boy remained sober. “Do you think my death is funny? I said give me the key.” He thrust his hand through the bars. “Now.”

“You know, you’re a little demanding for not being king yet…”

“I am king,” he said, never flinching.

Nabooru eyed him warily. “Fine, then. I’ll trade you the key for Lord Ganondorf’s ring.”

The boy’s face hardened. He removed the blue-stone ring from the first finger of his left hand and threw it on the ground just outside the gate. “Come and get it,” he said.

Nabooru smirked and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so touchy,” she said, bending down to retrieve the ring from the ground. In a moment the boy’s hand had shot out and grabbed her throat. His strength was uncanny; Nabooru gasped for air, but try as she might she could not breathe.

“Do not trifle with me. Give me the key or you won’t live long enough to cross me again.”

Nabooru brought the silver key to his empty hand. Once his fingers had closed around the key the boy’s other hand loosened, allowing air to rush into Nabooru’s lungs. She sat heavily on the ground, coughing. The boy unlocked the gate, drew it aside and walked out of the Training Grounds paying Nabooru no heed.

But Nabooru was not to be threatened by the likes of this boy; she hooked his ankle with her toe and pulled away violently, attempting to trip him. Oddly, the boy’s foot did not move. Instead, he sneered down on Nabooru and grabbed a handful of her scarlet hair. “You should not have done that,” he hissed, and bent her head backward, baring her neck. And then somehow he had drawn the dagger hidden in her girdle and had it pressed it to her throat. “Never hold my freedom over my head like that again, do you understand me?” Her breath escaped her mouth in uneven gasps. “Never,” repeated the boy. He turned and walked away, dropping the knife on the sand.

Nabooru drew herself up from the ground, laying a hand over her throat and clenching her other hand over Lord Ganondorf’s blue-stone ring.

* * *

1384 HR—Present

Nabooru was in her tent, brooding. She turned the blue-stone ring around the first finger of her left hand, staring moodily through a pillow near the entrance-flap. On the edge of her consciousness she became aware of a commotion somewhere outside, near the eastern gate of the Gerudo grounds. She looked up when she heard hurried footsteps approach. The entrance-flap flew back.

“Matron!” A guard entered Nabooru’s tent with a hasty bow. “The Red Maiden of Hyrule has just been here. She says that Ganon the Betrayer is dead.”

Nabooru’s brows came together. “Dead, did she say?”

“Yes, Matron! Ganon was defeated by a Hylian boy. They’re calling him a hero.”

Nabooru rose from her sitting pillow. One boy? Nabooru remembered the four young men who had visited the village—what had happened to the other three? “Thank you, Sianna; that will be all.” Sianna bowed and left hurriedly the way she had come. Nabooru waited until she was sure Sianna had gone. “Din, you can come out now.”

A young girl emerged from behind the large pillows stacked in one corner of the tent. Nabooru had rescued her from a crumbled dwelling four days ago when Ganon had denounced them and destroyed the fortress. Since then, as is the Gerudo way with orphans, Nabooru took her as her own daughter. Din was perhaps no more than twelve years of age and had scarlet hair that shone like fire in the light. She also had startling red eyes—typically a Sheikah trait—and it was with these calm but piercing red eyes that she looked at Nabooru now.

“Why are you hiding me?” she asked. Din was also unbearably blunt.

Nabooru was not accustomed to feeling uneasy around people, especially women, and especially women younger than her. But she could not deny that Din caused her to second-guess herself. “Because, Din, I don’t want the tribe to get the wrong idea about you, that’s all.”

Din sat on one of the large pillows. “When people say ‘that’s all’, what they really mean is ‘that’s what I want you to believe.’ What you mean is that you don’t want to forget him, isn’t that right?” It was not a question. “You feel that by taking me in as your daughter you’re replacing him; forgetting him.”

Nabooru considered the child for a moment. She was irreproachable. “I am going outside. Stay here and don’t let yourself be seen.” Nabooru went to one corner of the tent and retrieved the white-feathered headdress that distinguished her as the tribe Matron. When she turned around Din was looking directly at her. Seeing Din sitting on the pillow as if it were her tent; as if Nabooru was being dismissed… Nabooru could not help feeling that it was Din, not she, who had somehow gained power over the tribe.

Nabooru donned the headdress and paused in the tent’s opening. Just before she let the tent-flap go she took one last glance at the girl to be sure she would stay in the tent. Din hadn’t moved. Nabooru suddenly felt she was being made a fool.

The women of the fortress were gathered in a crowd away from their tents, talking and laughing. The guards, too, had come away from their stations to hear the news and celebrate with the other women.

“What is this?” called Nabooru. “Are the Gerudo a pack of peahens that gather and twitter? I should expect as much from little Hylian girls. Guards, back to your stations! Danger has not fled simply because the Betrayer is dead. Move!” The guards responded immediately, returning to their posts. The women who were not obligated by duty, however, remained.

“What? Aren’t we to celebrate the death of Ganon the Oppressor?” said one of the women. Nabooru knew her as the second-in-command of the Gerudo Fortress Guard and one of Ganon’s more faithful attendants. Faithful though she was, however, her loyalty was born of an acute knowledge of her master’s affinity for punishment. “Is it to be all sobriety and seriousness for you, Nabooru? Or are you not glad that he is dead?”

“I will be glad, Aveil, when our people are safe. Had you not considered that our people will die without a king? Are you so glad—being his former attendant—that you have no need to worry for your security? I might wonder if you are glad that the Gerudo and their ways will now vanish because Ganon—Betrayer though he was, Oppressor though he was—is now dead!” Aveil and the other women said nothing. Nabooru was breathing heavily. “We are broken…”

And as if in answer to her statement a heavy blow landed on the western desert-side gate. Every woman in the grounds jumped, turning like startled cats toward the west. Again came the sound, and again, and each time it was louder and more violent, throwing sand and dust from the gate, threatening to crack the crossbars. None of the women moved.

Nabooru scanned around, confirming the location of her guards. “Why is there no one on the gate-tower?! Someone get up there!” called Nabooru. A guard ran from the nearest post and began climbing the ladder to the top of the gate-tower. But by the time the guard reached the top Nabooru realized the blows had ceased.

Nabooru paused, straining to hear any indication of the abrupt callers. “They have not gone…Sianna!” In a moment her chief guard was at her side. “What would you say if I told you this is our king returned from the dead?” Nabooru stared at the desert gate, as if to look through it and dare the Gerudo’s former king to be there, threatening them again.

“Returned from the dead? Matron it’s unthinkable…not unless…” Sianna gave Nabooru a meaningful look.

“Not unless he had not truly died?” asked Nabooru pointedly. Sianna cast her eyes downward, as if looking for an answer in the sand. “Or do you think he may have the Weapon?”

“But Matron, any Gerudo knows it is foolishness to take the Forbidden Weapon. Evil spirits live in that Cursed Object, no Gerudo would willingly take it unless she were…”

“…unless he were mad,” finished Nabooru. “Thank you Sianna; I think you have just helped me make up my mind.” Nabooru faced Sianna directly. “Scavenge for every last sword,” she said. “Bring me every bow, every scimitar, every spear; I want every woman equipped, even these peahens who call themselves Gerudo. We will be ready when he comes. To arms!!”

In less than a minute any Gerudo woman who could hold a weapon was armed. Nabooru organized fifty souls on either side of the desert-side gate with the rest of the Gerudo in various parts of the ruined fortress, resolute and ready to fight none-of-them-knew-what. It was just as Aveil and the other guards had delivered the last scimitar to a wizened but sturdy old woman that the wood-crunching blows began again. Boom! The women jumped, startled. Aveil and her guards brandished their weapons.

Nabooru turned, facing the gathered women, unflinching. “We will not die like helpless children,” she called. Boom!—the gate rattled. “We are not the food of vultures, to be picked apart like carrion!” Boom!!—the hinges groaned. “We are the Gerudo! Our enemy will find before we die that its prey has teeth; its quarry has claws, and like the mother cat protecting her young (BOOM!!—the gate buckled) if I have a breath remaining in my body I will not allow the Gerudo to fail.” BOOM!!!—the crossbars squealed. “Now, to the conflict!” SMASH!!!

Finally the gate collapsed inward, the crossbars snapping like wire. The first sight any of the archers had was of a heavy cloud of dust and the vague outline of a gigantic creature within it. Huge gouts of flame issued out of the cloud and the archers drew back their bowstrings.

“Release!” shouted Nabooru. The archers let their arrows fly into the cloud of sand and dirt. When another gout of flame issued out of the cloud the archers prepared themselves for another volley. Then Nabooru felt a small hand grasp her own. It was Din.

Nabooru knelt, gripping the child by her shoulders. “Din what are you doing here? Get back in the tent!” Din didn’t move, but looked up at the gate guard.

“It’s the witches,” Din said calmly.

“It’s the witches!” shouted the gate guard from atop her tower. Nabooru looked up in astonishment.

“They have an Iron Knuckle,” said Din.

“They have an Iron Knuckle!” shouted the gate guard.

Din stared at the Maron with her piercing red eyes. “Another volley?” said the child calmly.

Sianna bent near Nabooru. “The archers await your command, Matron. Another volley?”

“Din, stop!” she said frantically. “Get back to the tent!” She released the child, staring into the cloud of dust and sand. Slowly a figure emerged. The sun glinted off the edge of a broad, two-bladed axe and a shining helmet.

“It’s coming!” shouted a woman. Then the call bled through the ranks: “the witches!” Another gout of flame rushed past the Iron Knuckle, licking the rock wall and driving the Gerudo back from their posts.

“Orders, Matron?” said Sianna shifting her feet in the sand. She adjusted the grip on her spear. “Matron, send a volley?”

Nabooru glanced between the Iron Knuckle, the gate guard, and Sianna. “Volley,” she said, finally. “Volley!”

“Release!” shouted Sianna. The Gerudo women released another volley of arrows into the cloud.

“They’re coming through,” said Din. Nabooru looked down; the child was still there.

“They’re coming through!” shouted the gate guard. And in the next moment a thirty-foot tall swarthy-skinned woman emerged from the churning cloud. On her scarlet-haired head she wore a gem of red and blue and in her hand she held a wooden wand that ended in a bound bundle of fiery straw, the flame of which was as large as any of the Gerudo’s tents. She brandished the flaming broomstick and from it leapt another gout of flame. The fire shot past the advancing Iron Knuckle and blackened the rock on the other side of the gate. The Gerudo women retreated again and gathered around Nabooru.

Nabooru stared at the enormous woman before her. “Ganon's witch aunts finally perfected their combined form! By the Goddess!” The Matron might have been gladder to see that her enemy was the Betrayer. At least then she would know what the Gerudo were up against. "We can't know how to fight them now..."

“Orders!” shouted Sianna.

Nabooru was pulled from her trance. “The servants of Ganon come! Full attack! Ground units: the Iron Knuckle. Archers: the witches—continuous fire! The servants of the Betrayer attack as one and so shall we!”

The women obeyed. The Iron Knuckle stopped, bracing itself for the oncoming melee.

“Sianna, get Din back to the tent!”

“But Matron…” Sianna began.

Din refused to move. “Let me speak to you,” she said.

“Not now, Din,” Nabooru had had enough. “Sianna, I said get her out of here!”

“Let me help you,” Din repeated.

“Matron, I don’t see…” But Sianna did not get a chance to finish, for a ball of fire had leapt from the witch’s rod and exploded between her and Nabooru. Nabooru was thrown to the ground, singed and dazed.

Nabooru shook her head. Then she looked up and…were her eyes deceiving her? The child Din was standing before her engulfed in flames…but she was not harmed. Instead, the child stepped forward calmly, toward the giant witch. The fire had utterly consumed her clothing, but it enveloped the child so completely that Din appeared to be made of the fire… As she walked, Din’s body was lifted into the air, hovering just feet above the sand.

Din stopped, turned to Nabooru and spoke; her voice was thick and resonant. “Your ring, Nabooru; make ready.”

Nabooru looked down at her hand, remembering something that had happened many years ago—the night Raean had gone to be an attendant at the Shrine—the night the son of Lord Ganondorf had been sent to the training grounds… Nabooru drew herself up from the ground, turning her hand over to look at the blue-stone ring on the first finger of her left hand; the one she had traded Ganondorf for his freedom. Oh, Goddess, she thought. Forgive me. I freed him; I let him out. If only...

But her attention was drawn from the ring to the Iron Knuckle caught in melee with the Gerudo women and the enormous fire-bearing witch wreaking havoc on Nabooru’s archers.

The Iron Knuckle was avoiding combat, blocking many of the Gerudo’s blows and allowing others to simply glance harmlessly off its armor; in effect it simply tied up more of Nabooru’s forces. The archers were not having much more success as their arrows kept vanishing in flames before they could strike the thirty-foot-tall witch. This battle was waxing too long; eventually her women would literally have exhausted their ammunition. But as Nabooru observed the blue-stoned ring she realized that she had never given more than passing consideration to the frost that had always gathered on it. Suddenly she seemed to understand something she did not before…

Nabooru hurried to the nearest archer: “Give me your bow!” The woman obeyed. Nocking an arrow to the string Nabooru pulled back, resting the tip of the arrow on her blue-stone ring. Touched by the stone, the arrow began to glow with a faint blue light and frost gathered along its shaft. Taking aim, Nabooru fired the frosted arrow at the flame-witch’s heart. The witch raised her rod and the flying arrow sizzled as it flew. It did not burn, however, and narrowly missed the witch’s left shoulder. Nabooru swore.

“Hold my hand,” said Din, extending her flaming fingers toward Nabooru. “I cannot harm you.”

Nabooru considered the girl’s request. Din’s words reverberated in her head: ‘Let me help you.’ This child was enveloped in flame and she was not consumed. Surely, she must be a creature of magic, thought Nabooru. She quickly grasped the fiery girl’s hand.

Every flame in the vicinity was suddenly drawn into Din’s body. Fire streaked above the Gerudo warriors’ heads in a blazing whirlwind, pulling from the flame-witch’s hair, rod and even from the fires that dotted the battleground. The witch and the Gerudo women all stared in astonishment. When the fires were extinguished and the fire-witch was drained of her magical flame Din turned again to Nabooru.

“Now,” said Din calmly.

Nabooru released Din’s hand and drew the bow back again—tapping the arrow on the stone—and fired at the witch. This time the witch could not prevent the frosted arrow and it pierced her leg, spreading ice crystals over her body as fast as spilled water. More and more crystals crept down to her feet, flooded up her chest to her arms and inched up her neck. The witch shrieked with indignation until the ice covered her mouth and nose. Finally, the witch was still—a wicked scowl frozen on her face. When Nabooru saw that the witch did not move she exhaled.

But then the witch’s eyes glowed orange and the ice began to melt. In moments the magical ice evaporated and the witch was free enough to move again—and she was heading directly for the Matron.

Her enemy had not been defeated, but now Nabooru knew that her weapon would work. Her resolve renewed, Nabooru never took her eyes from her enemy. “Every weapon to me! Form a line!” she called. The Gerudo responded; the ground units fell back from combat with the Iron Knuckle and they and the archers assembled behind Nabooru. The Iron Knuckle did not pursue.

Nabooru stood on one end of the line holding the blue-stone ring aloft. “Weapons ready—on my mark!” She held up an arrow, tapping it on the ring. It frosted over and glowed blue. The frozen witch was coming faster now. The Gerudo women held out the tips of their weapons. “For the Gerudo!” Nabooru called, and she ran the length of the line, striking Lord Ganondorf’s ring against their blades, spear-heads and their arrows. Then—as soon as each weapon glowed with magical frost—its bearer rushed the advancing witch, brandishing her scimitar, hurling her spear or releasing her bow-string. And as two-score weapons found their marks the enormous witch was encrusted with crystals upon crystals of frozen moisture. The giant woman’s legs and arms seized and in moments she was completely encased in feet of enchanted ice. When the ice did not melt and there was no sign of life coming from the witch’s form, Nabooru exhaled a second breath.

Suddenly the Iron Knuckle animated. For a moment Nabooru thought it would attack but then the armored warrior turned, hefted its axe over its head and hurled it at the frozen witch. The blade of the axe sank into the magical ice and in a moment a line bisected the witch’s form. A terrible squealing issued from within the ice as it twisted against itself, sounding like the pained groan of a tortured pig. Then the line became a crack and all at once the body of the ice-encrusted witch shattered, falling in a pile of quickly evaporating shards, none of them leaving any trace of the witch’s physical form. She was gone.

Calls of triumph followed shouts of joy; “the witch is dead!” But Nabooru could hardly credit what she had witnessed. There was the Iron Knuckle, stooping to recover its axe from the ground, standing up again and heaving the axe over its shoulder. Nabooru’s face hardened—this was no ordinary Iron Knuckle…

Nabooru strode forward, stopping short a few paces off. “You! Reveal yourself!” The other women ceased their celebrating to see what the matter was. The Iron Knuckle paused, turned and faced Nabooru directly. The armored warrior advanced suddenly, but paused again when it saw Nabooru’s alarm. Nabooru’s eyes sharpened when the sun glinted off the silver gauntlets the Iron Knuckle wore. Laying down its axe, the Iron Knuckle spread its arms wide, showing empty hands. Then it reached up and drew off its helmet.

Nabooru gasped. “Raean?”

Raean threw her helmet to the ground beside her axe. “Nabooru…” she choked on the name. “I’m so sorry.”

Nabooru stared at her older sister in disbelief. Then she was in her arms, ignoring the fact that they were clad in cold metal. For all the world she could only feel the blood pumping through her own heart, telling her that she was alive and she was holding her sister again. “I’ve missed you so much…” she said.

“You too, sis. You too. It’s been a long time.” Wetness leaked from Raean’s eyes.

The other Gerudo women were stunned into silence. Nabooru was embracing the Iron Knuckle. When Nabooru noticed the scores of eyes on her she pulled away from her sister and turned to face the Gerudo.

“What is this?” asked Aveil, incredulous.

“This Iron Knuckle is my sister, returned after twenty-four years absence. Proof that the dead can live again, Aveil.” Then Nabooru turned to her sister. “I was right, wasn’t I? Ganondorf had you brainwashed, didn’t he?”

“His witches did, yeah. But they’re gone now, thanks to you.”

“Raean, there’s something I want to tell you…” Nabooru could not restrain a wide smile. “I… I have a child…” Then Nabooru paused and her face changed. “By the Goddess—Din!” She looked around frantically and then hollered the name. “Din?” She walked in the direction of the tents, looking one way, then the other. “Din!” The child was nowhere in sight.

“Nabooru, are you all right?” asked Raean, following.

“She’s…she’s not here,” Nabooru said finally.

“Of course she’s not here, Nabooru, she’s a Goddess; you wouldn’t see her wasting her time after a battle…”

Nabooru turned to her sister directly. “I need to go check my tent for something. It would probably be better if you came with me…” She glanced around at the other women. Aveil was already voicing her opinions to more than a few of the others.

“I would, Nabooru, but look; I need to ask a favor of you,” said Raean.

Nabooru was impatient. “Yes, of course, but come with me quickly.” Raean complied. Nabooru led her to the Matron’s tent at the center of the grounds. She opened the flap and looked inside. There was the child Din, seated on the pillow where Nabooru left her.

“Din! How did you get back so fast?”

“What do you mean?” Din asked innocently.

Nabooru entered the tent. “You were with me at the battle and then you were gone. I saw you…”

“But I’ve been with you the whole time,” Din replied.

“That doesn’t make any sense Din; I left you in the tent.”

“Just because you don’t believe in something doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“Enough riddles, Din…I saw you. First you started saying things before everyone else did and then you…” It sounded crazy to say it, even to Nabooru: “You caught fire, but you didn’t burn up; now how is that possible?”

“What is it, Nabooru? You don’t believe a child can be so powerful?”

“I just… Please; tell me what’s going on! I am at my wit’s end!”

“Are you certain you want to know?” asked the child soberly.

For the second time Nabooru was caught in her own words. “I want… Din, I saw you… Please, just…” Nabooru could not explain why, but she was crying. She looked over her shoulder to be sure that Raean was still there. She was—just outside the tent. Nabooru’s chest heaved and she felt the weight of her words in the air as she uttered them, as if they were an oath: “Tell me why you’re here. What are you?”

Din’s face was stone. “If I show you who I am will you hear the words I have to say?”

“Yes,” said Nabooru, desperate for an explanation.

“Then hear the words of your Goddess:” and in that moment Din’s red eyes lit up and her whole body was engulfed in flames of bright gold. The flames quickly spread to the pillows, the blankets, and over the rest of the tent, consuming everything. Then Nabooru was engulfed in them, her body shrinking, withering away in the fire. Soon her physical form was consumed and she was alarmed to discover that she was still conscious.

All the world was fire; nothing existed but Din and the flame. So suddenly it had come upon her, this world of golden flame, but somehow to Nabooru it felt like home. More alarming to her than this was that she did not feel warmth or cold, but an intense, almost suffocating glory emanating from the child; as if Din was not simply contained in that small being, but that she filled all of existence, even within Nabooru herself.

Then Nabooru became aware that the child was aging. At first Din was child of barely twelve—then a young woman of sixteen—then a mature woman; always made of golden fire, stunning and terrible. Then, as quickly as Din had aged, time suddenly paused and the adult Din’s shining hair floated up from her bare shoulders like living flames suspended in water.

Din spoke; her voice thick and resonant. “Nabooru, I am Din, Goddess of Power. I have been with thee these past days to test thy mettle and prepare thee for the oncoming conflict. Thy people, the Gerudo, are my own. I have cared for you these many years and now ye are on the brink of ruin. I am come now not to bring thee tidings of thy deliverance but to tell thee of the war that is to come; that thou wilt understand thy role in it, and the role of thy people, who are my people. I am come to tell thee of the Balance of the Gods.”

Nabooru could do nothing but listen.

“Before the beginning of time, many ages long past, we goddesses were One; that Goddess that you worship, yet understand not. We were whole, complete and eternal. But then we were broken; fractions of what we once were. In spite and anger I fought against my sisters and subdued them with my power, using them as little more than slaves and puppets. Since that time I have repented of my ways and over many millennia we Goddesses have sought to reunite ourselves and be one as we once were. And such was our resolve for unity that the Triforce sprang into being in that spot where we left this fair land. From that time the Triforce has remained in its place of hiding deep within the Golden Land to serve as a reminder and a warning to the peoples of Hyrule.

“This, then, is the path of the Gerudo—to be one with the people of Hyrule as I, your Goddess, have sought to be one with my sisters. Ye are brought to ruin now as a token of penance for the crimes you have committed, as I seek penance for the crimes that I have committed against my sisters. By enduring this trial ye will understand what it means to be broken as we have been broken. Seek out Worlu, the Protector. Only by calling to restore the Balance of the Gods can this war be won. And when it is won we shall become again that Goddess that ye worship, yet understand not. Know that all of the races are favored of the Goddess. Soon thou wilt receive wisdom from those you once called your enemies. These are the words of Din, the Goddess of Power…”

* * *

“Nabooru! Nabooru wake up! Talk to me—say something!” Raean had doffed her armor and was cradling her sister in her arms outside the Matron’s tent. “Again!” called Raean, and a woman held a bottle of salts under Nabooru’s nose.

Nabooru coughed, her nose burning with the salts’ fumes. She sat up.

“Nabooru!” said Raean, cradling her sister in her arms. “What happened?”

Nabooru looked around her. Guards were gathered on all sides and behind them were the other women. “Where is the child?” Nabooru drew back the tent flap and looked inside. No one was there. “Where is Din?”

Raean tried to hold her sister still. “Nabooru, what are you talking about? No one has seen a child named Din. There is no such person! Nabooru listen to me…!”

Nabooru stopped. “No one has seen the child?” she looked around at the guards’ faces. “Where is Sianna? Get me Sianna!” Sianna emerged from behind the others. She was heavily bandaged and leaning on another woman’s arm. “Sianna, do you remember the child that was with me just now at the battle…? I told you to take her back to the tent.”

Sianna shook her head with wide eyes. “No, Matron, I saw no one. You were speaking to empty air, and then…”

“But she was there! She was… Don’t any of you remember? Din drew all of the fire from the witch so that we could freeze her.” The women gave Nabooru blank stares. “The child was on fire, but she was not harmed…didn’t anyone see?” Nabooru suddenly felt she was being made a fool again.

“You did that with magic, Nabooru,” Aveil said. “I don’t know how you did it, but all we saw was you reaching out your hand and then the fire gathered to you. It was unusual, to be sure, but not impossible. And there was no flaming girl.” The other women mumbled their agreement.

Nabooru was at a loss. She knew she was not crazy, but she felt helpless to explain. What was she supposed to say? She could not expect them to believe the child was the Goddess Din herself.

Then another woman spoke. “I saw her.” It was a venerable Gerudo; one of the few remaining sorceresses under the old king, before Ganon. “I saw the girl. It was as the Matron says.”

Little pools gathered in Nabooru’s eyes. “Yes, thank you.” But some of the women continued to murmur.

Raean stared at her sister as if she were a complete stranger. If the last twenty years had changed her, what had they done to Nabooru? “Maybe you should get some rest.”

Then Nabooru remembered what Din had said. “No. We have to leave. We need to go to the Hylia and be one with them.”

“What?!” crowed Aveil. She shook her head in disbelief. “You want us to go to the Hylia? What about ‘losing our ways?’ ”

“It has to be done,” said Nabooru. “If we are to be ready for the war that’s coming we have to be one with our enemies.”

“Well, I’ve heard enough,” said Aveil. “Any of you women who think this is nonsense, come with me. I’ll lead the Gerudo since it’s obvious Nabooru here expects us to believe she talks to invisible girls.”

“Where would you take us?” said one woman. “Yes, what would we do with our king gone?” said another.

“Steal and plunder, of course, like we’ve always done,” said Aveil. “What do you say, girls?” About half of the women, mostly guards, shouted their assent. The other half, including the venerable sorceress, remained silent.

Then Aveil looked upon Nabooru with an expression that caused the Matron’s heart to chill. It reminded her of when Ganondorf had nearly strangled her to death; a kind of smug satisfaction. But just as Nabooru saw it, Aveil turned away.

“Move out!” called Aveil. “I want tents on all the remaining horses, and pick up those scimitars. Fill every waterskin from the stores; we’ll need to be prepared…” Aveil’s followers obeyed.

“But you don’t understand,” said Nabooru, reaching out to the women. “They’re coming to offer us wisdom…”

“Leave them be, child,” said the venerable sorceress. “They’ve chosen their path.”

After Aveil’s followers had busied themselves with their new leader’s orders, Nabooru looked gratefully on the remaining women. There were about twenty of them, mostly dancers and weapons trainers. “Thank you,” said Nabooru. “Thank you for believing me.”

“Well, we never said that…” said one woman. It was one of the trainers. “All the same, we’re better off; did you see the way Aveil was handling her blade? All show and no business; she’s always been that way. She won’t last the week.” Nabooru allowed herself a faint smile at this.

Then one of the remaining guards came up from the field-side gate. “Matron! There is a Hylian emissary outside. He requests permission to enter.” Nabooru was stunned. She didn’t think things would happen this quickly. Din’s words were being proven true already: ‘…soon you will receive wisdom from those you once called your enemies…’

“Let him in,” she said. “And the rest of you, gather whatever the traitors have left behind and consolidate camp. As soon as we have gathered our provisions we will leave this place for Hyrule Castle; the Gerudo are to become one with the other people of Hyrule. Get it done!” A score of women animated, hurrying to follow their Matron’s orders. Raean lingered with her sister, watching the other women busy themselves about the camp.

“You sure know how to put on a show, sis,” said Raean.

Nabooru turned to her sister. “Please say you believe me, Rae…”

Raean studied her sister’s face, searching it for something, anything that she could say she remembered from when they were younger. But there was so little that was familiar about her, now. “Nabooru, I… I just don’t know. I’m not sure what to think about all this; I’ve been gone for so long. I just found out about what Ganondorf did here…”

Nabooru looked down, and then out at the camp again. “Ganon,” she said. “He calls himself Ganon, now.”

Raean folded her arms, her Silver Bracers flashing in the sunlight. “So instead of just being ‘King of the Enchanted Thieves’ he’s just ‘King,’ now, huh? Sounds like him; always wanted to be king of everything.”

A heavy silence fell over both of them. Then…

“Rae, I have to tell you about someone…someone very important to me…” and Nabooru looked like she might have continued, but just then the Hylian emissary arrived leading his horse behind him. He was flanked by two Gerudo guards.

“Hail! Matron of the Gerudo,” called the emissary. He approached Nabooru and bowed deeply. Nabooru sighed. Raean could tell whatever it was, Nabooru had something important to say, but she knew it would have to wait.

“Get this man and his horse some water…what there is left of it,” said Nabooru to the guards. One of the guards jogged away obediently. Then Nabooru faced the emissary. “You are welcome in this place; deliver your message.”

“The King of the Hylia extends to the Gerudo wishes of peace and good-will in light of the recent events clouding the land of Hyrule. His Majesty would know your favor if there be any to relay.” The emissary bowed.

“Thank you,” replied Nabooru. “You may deliver the message to his Majesty that I will be arriving soon to discuss the matter with him personally.” Raean stared at her sister, astonished. The emissary bowed again. Just then the guard returned with water. The emissary drank, gave some to his horse and then took his leave. The guards returned to their posts. Nabooru stared out over the camp. “You’ll come with me, won’t you Raean?”

“Yeah,” Raean said finally. “It’s just…this is all so different than when I left it. And you’re different. When I left you weren’t wearing the Matron’s headdress… Anyway, I’m sorry.”

“I’m different? I’ve never known you to apologize for anything,” said Nabooru. Raean smiled. “I have been wondering about something, though…”

“What’s that?”

“What in the name of the Goddess possessed you to lure a fifty-foot tall fire-witch into the camp? We could have been killed!” Nabooru punched her sister in the gut. Taken by surprise, Raean almost punched back but remembered just in time that she still wore the gauntlets.

“Fifty-foot? Right, and I was fighting a hundred Gerudo. You know if you wanted a fight you could just say so—let’s go, it’ll be just like old times,” offered Raean. She raised her fists, ready for mock battle.

“I’ll pass,” said Nabooru, eyeing Raean’s silver arms. “You’d have a slight advantage just now… But how did you know we could defeat the witch?”

“I didn’t. I just figured you were my only chance. We were crossing the Waste and the witches caught up to us. We couldn’t handle them on our own, so I thought I’d knock on your door. If that didn’t get you ready to fight, nothing would.”

“Wait…we?” asked Nabooru skeptically, crossing her arms.

“Well, I picked up some friends on the way and seeing as how we’re all misfits around here I thought they could come with us… That was the favor I was going to ask.”

Nabooru heard a woman’s voice speaking in an ancient language and for a moment she thought her mind was playing tricks on her again. But then two people Nabooru did not recognize materialized out of the hazy desert air. One was a woman wearing a grey stone head-piece and dressed in a dark robe with swooping areas of black and white covering her body. The other was a man, lean but well-muscled, his eyes bound with a strip of black cloth.

“Nabooru, I think you’ve met Asera and Abrum…”

* * *

Felso snuck through the underbrush, two masks hanging from his neck. Almost there, he thought, just a few more steps. Sitting on the edge of a chasm, where the forest stopped abruptly, was the figure of another stick-child wearing a broad-brimmed straw sunhat. The chasm spread out endlessly in both directions and the sound of churning water drifted up from far below. Felso approached from behind the figure as quietly as he could…

Then something fell on top of Felso, flattening him to the ground against the masks. “Get off!” He crowed, and in moments he realized that he had been had; Solfe stood before him, a stick-child without a sunhat. “You cheater!” squealed Felso. “I was supposed to scare you!”

“Well, now who’s scared?” said Solfe, plucking the sunhat from the stick-dummy and placing it on her own head. She pushed the dummy over the edge of the chasm. “Oops!” she said. They both poked their heads over the edge to watch it fall; the dummy bounced against an outcropping of rock and shattered apart.

“Wow!” said Felso, looking across the chasm to the other side. “That’s so far not even a bird could jump it!”

“Bird’s don’t jump, stupid; birds fly…” said Solfe. “Hey, what’s that?”

Felso looked down at his chest where the two masks hung. “Hey, look, masks!” he said, removing his peaked hat. He pulled one of the masks over his neck and handed it to Solfe. It was a grotesque wooden mask displaying the young face of a child—painted white—on one half and the gnarled face of a wizened old man colored by the dark wood on the other.

“Oh, this one’s ugly! I want that one,” said Solfe, trading masks with Felso. Solfe held the second mask in her hands, admiring her new possession. It was a porcelain mask with delicate tracery surrounding the edges. The face was of a beautiful woman with a somber, thoughtful expression. She placed the mask over her face. “How do I look?” said Solfe.

“That’s fun! Hey, watch me…” said Felso. But Solfe was not watching. “Solfe, watch me… Hey…” Solfe reached up to her face, trying to remove the mask, but it would not come off. “Solfe, what’s wrong?”

But the stick-child did not answer; Solfe’s body locked in position and then fell to the ground, convulsing and coming dangerously near to the chasm. Her sunhat fell from her head and was caught away in a gust of wind. The hat drifted off into the mist, far out of sight. Felso grabbed the stick-child’s legs to keep her from falling. “Solfe, wake up! Wake up!”

“I am awake you imbecile. Unhand me!” Felso cowered as he watched Solfe rise to her feet. From all appearances she was not harmed, but this was not Solfe. “Who are you, timid creature? And why do you have my brother’s mask?”

For a moment Felso was too frightened to speak. “S-Solfe?” he said finally.

“Such impertinence! Why do you call me…?” Then Solfe stopped, tilting her head to one side. “Ah, yes, here it is in this primitive mind. You are forest children…and my host is your friend and…oh, what chivalry! Yes, this will do nicely, I think… Now to awaken you, my brother!” And Solfe reached forward and grabbed the mask in Felso’s hands, shoving it onto his face.

“No, stop!” Felso cried. But his attacker was too strong. His fingers plied at the mask’s edges, wood grating on wood, but the mask would not budge. Then Felso’s arms went limp and like a lifeless ragdoll he collapsed to the ground, motionless. Solfe watched Felso’s twisted body attentively. In another moment Felso’s neck snapped to one side, then the other. Like a marionette being lifted on its strings, Felso rose into the air and then stood upright on both feet.

“Sister? Where are we?” said Felso, looking around him in wonder. Solfe said nothing, but raised her twig-like hand to Felso’s masked face. Suddenly Felso’s head twitched to one side. He raised his shoulders, stretching his neck. “I see. These hosts are perfect; they will be easy to manipulate. But we will need more strength if we wish to…”

“Hush!” said Solfe, turning suddenly toward the chasm. “Do not frighten them away.” Seconds passed and then a terror of ravens emerged from out of the forest on the other side of the chasm. Just as they were flying overhead Solfe turned to Felso and nodded. Felso raised one hand toward the sky; the birds’ wings moved slower and slower until they were completely motionless, seized in mid-air.

Then Solfe raised her hand toward the birds. After another moment she spoke. “They are migratory; they have roamed far and seen much. This land across the chasm is nothing; an uncivilized place. Recently there was a beast of considerable size and strength who bested an armored one on a horse. The earth was moved and shadows came to life… But this battle is nothing…

“Where the birds go on the other side of this forest…yes. There are fields, a ranch, a town, people…a castle and a temple…We will find strength for you there, Tempus, there are many lives to claim. And to the east of the town there is a village—there, on the side of a mountain where fire flows like water. This village hides secrets. Yes, there are many who keep their knowledge and tell it to none; secrets held within the minds of the weak and fearful… Ah, a feast for one such as Sophia.” Solfe lowered her hand and she faced Felso. “Their minds have gone dark, now. You may have them.”

The fingers of Felso’s outstretched hand closed into a tight fist. Felso inhaled deeply. “Thank you, sister. Come; let us broaden our kingdom.” The pair of masked children walked away from the chasm, into the forest. And falling behind them with quiet thuds was a trail of dead ravens; withered and drained of life.

So we've finally got a reason for the HMS' behavior. Pretty good, though I don't see why the mask keeper would keep the salesman around as a horse. By the way, in your story, was the HMS actually in OoT and MM, or was that the impersonator all along?

It's also nice that you cleared up the Skull Kid thing, though if the mask keeper had been robbed by a Skull Kid before I'd at least expect him to be a little more ready that time.

I don't have the time to go into a long review, but I just want to make a nitpick; the elemental arrows of OoT didn't actually work on the Twinrova Sisters.

Pretty good, but once again I'm worried that you'll fill your plate with too many things at once.

Hey Gamer, I was wondering when you'd put in another commentary now that the HMS and Twinrova made explicit appearances.

Yes, according to my telling the HMS of OoT and MM always ever was the gaunt, brown-skinned man masquerading as the hapless red-haired smiley face man from Termina. As for the reason for this, as always, keep reading.

Well, you have a point with the ice arrows not working on Twinrova in the game... But then again, you also don't have the physical incarnation of Din on your side either.

I should very much enjoy the day when you do have time for a longer review. You make very valid points and (as evidenced by the oversight of the elemental arrows) you actually hold me to some semblance of accuracy. I appreciate it.

And out of curiosity, what are these ever-present "things" with which you are afraid that I shall fill my plate, I wonder? I thought the plot was progressing nicely... But then, I am biased.

If I may, I should like to ask a favor of you, since you seem to be more keen than most to making commentary--would you give me an honest critique on the character of Nabooru? I admit I was uncertain how to characterize her and I fear... Well, I suppose I won't put premature ideas in your head. Just tell me what you think of the way her character unfolds through the story, hm?

Originally Posted by Hero of Geeks

Hey Gamer, I was wondering when you'd put in another commentary now that the HMS and Twinrova made explicit appearances.

No problem.

Originally Posted by Hero of Geeks

Yes, according to my telling the HMS of OoT and MM always ever was the gaunt, brown-skinned man masquerading as the hapless red-haired smiley face man from Termina. As for the reason for this, as always, keep reading.

Thanks for answering that. I also hope that we learn why the gaunt, brown-skinned man decided to keep the actual HMS around as a horse.

Originally Posted by Hero of Geeks

Well, you have a point with the ice arrows not working on Twinrova in the game... But then again, you also don't have the physical incarnation of Din on your side either.

True, but the Ice Arrows were depicted as having an effect/advantage before Din took action and definitely afterward when Koume had regained her power.

Originally Posted by Hero of Geeks

I should very much enjoy the day when you do have time for a longer review. You make very valid points and (as evidenced by the oversight of the elemental arrows) you actually hold me to some semblance of accuracy. I appreciate it.

No problem. I've always figured that if you were trying to work with a universe it'd be best if you knew everything about it. I usually take a long time to type, so I prefer to make long reviews after reading a good deal of a story in succession so that I can cover numerous bases at once.

Originally Posted by Hero of Geeks

And out of curiosity, what are these ever-present "things" with which you are afraid that I shall fill my plate, I wonder? I thought the plot was progressing nicely... But then, I am biased.

I'm just worried that you'll try to involve too many story elements at once.

Example: something involving the maidens, Onox, Veran, Majora's Mask, Vaati, The Great King AoL backstory, and some tale of how Blind the Thief found the Dark World.

With so many things to juggle, it may take forever to write a chapter or get your ideas together, and it may be hard to follow the story.

Also, if separate plot strands occur one right after the other, there might not be time for a reader to sit back and fully take in everything that has happened, and the resolve of certain characters combined with the state of the land may eventually become difficult to take seriously. Also, it may give the unintended impression that one event is nothing more than a crutch for another event which is in turn a crutch for another event and etc. Some down time between events for things to rebuild and people to recover wouldn't hurt.

Originally Posted by Hero of Geeks

Just tell me what you think of the way her character unfolds through the story, hm?

Alright. This story looks pretty promising, especially when compared to the majority of fanfiction out there.

I also hope that we learn why the gaunt, brown-skinned man decided to keep the actual HMS around as a horse.

You will. And just for clarification, the gaunt brown-skinned man (to be named later in the story, don't worry) actually is the HMS. The visage we are accustomed to was taken from a hapless soul who had nothing to do with peddling masks whatsoever. Consider the disguise a kind of social camoflage; traipsing around looking like he really does would tip others off to his actual origins (to be discussed later.)

True, but the Ice Arrows were depicted as having an effect/advantage before Din took action and definitely afterward when Koume had regained her power.

Thank you for bringing that up. It seems I wasn't clear enough in my descriptions:

"The witch raised her rod and the flying arrow sizzled as it flew. It did not burn, however, and narrowly missed the witch’s left shoulder. Nabooru swore."

I suppose it would have been better to say that the arrow melted but did not burn (rendering it an ordinary arrow.) Then again, I suppose ordinary arrows would have no effect in the game either. (They would be batted away or some such.) My intention was to show that Nabooru would not have suceeded except for Din's direct intervention; you may take it for what it is.

Example: something involving the maidens, Onox, Veran, Majora's Mask, Vaati, The Great King AoL backstory, and some tale of how Blind the Thief found the Dark World.

I suppose I should warn you, then, that some bits of cross-game referencing do take place. Forgive a well-seasoned fanatic; I do not intend for them to detract from the story, but as a nod to those who catch them. Consider them little rewards for the hard-core fans. If they do not appeal to you, I pray those who share your opinion may be able to look past them and enjoy the story as much as possible.

Alright. This story looks pretty promising, especially when compared to the majority of fanfiction out there.

This may very well be the highest form of praise I could expect regarding a story that is largely unoriginal in characterization and setting. My thanks.

Chapter IV
LINK’S FIRST BIRTHDAY or “Orrin’s Grave”

“Afton, is this really necessary?” Link asked. They were riding Geoffrey, Afton’s horse, and Link had been blindfolded for the last twenty minutes. From behind Afton, Link couldn’t tell where Geoffrey was taking them and he was sure they had gone in at least three circles.

“It’s all part of the surprise,” said Afton.

“And you’re sure I don’t need my shield or anything? ‘Catching’ a surprise sounds pretty dangerous…”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Afton. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll have enough of swords and shields once you officially become captain.”

“Are you’re sure this is okay with the king?” said Link. “He made a pretty big deal of me going off to celebrate without Zelda before.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem,” said Afton smartly. “And it’s kind of fun to think we’re bending the rules just a little, isn’t it?”

Link smiled guiltily under his blindfold. “Yeah…”

“Okay, so can you guess where we are?”

“Zora’s Domain.”

“Zora’s…! You have to go under a waterfall to get to Zora’s Domain, you half-wit! Try again; this time a real guess.”

“Well, there aren’t that many places to go in Hyrule Field, Afton.”

Afton rolled his eyes and sighed. “I guess you’re right. You might as well take the blindfold off, we’re almost there.”

“Finally,” Link said and reached up to remove the blindfold. But just then Geoffrey burst into full gallop and Link had to throw both arms around Afton to stay on.

“Whoa, whoa,” called Afton. Geoffrey slowed to a trot. Link waited to see if Geoffrey might charge off again before he spoke.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Link asked, removing the blindfold.

“Are you asking me or Geoffrey?” Afton replied.

“Both,” Link said, rubbing his eyes. When he opened them properly Link saw their destination; Lon Lon Ranch never looked so festive. There were banners hanging from the walls, inflated hot-air balloons circling the fence around the ranch and a tall pole in the middle of the ranch that had streamers stretching out to the fence posts. “Wow,” said Link; he could think of nothing else to say.

“The rancher and that daughter of his never do anything small, do they?”

Link shook his head. “They certainly don’t. Afton, look at those banners! I can’t make out what they say…” Link squinted.

“I think they’re supposed to say ‘Happy Birthday.’ I wouldn’t mention anything, though,” said Afton. “Talon probably made them.”

“Oh. Right.”

Afton brought Geoffrey up to the gate of the ranch. Link reached up and swung the bell-rope that hung there. The bell clanged loudy.

A few moments passed and nothing happened. “Um, Afton…?” said Link.

“Just wait…”

And sure enough in a few moments a short parade issued out of the ranch house. There was music playing and banners waving and Link smiled, laughing out loud; the king of Hyrule was leading the procession! He was dressed in a fine multicolored jacket and a pair of checkered leggings. He still wore his crown on his head, but inside of it was a bulbous hat that looked like a mushroom. In his hand he carried an ivory baton that he waved heartily. Behind the king was a familiar orchestra; Aako was smartly drawing the bow across his leaf-shaped viola, Lutai plucked her fishbone harp, Impa played her bamboo flute, Rauru followed with his black horn and Gor Darmon boomed away on his Dongo-skin drums. The six of them marched up and assembled in a semicircle while the rest of the procession emerged from behind Gor Darmon’s rocky bulk.

Talon was wearing the brightest clothing he owned: his freshly washed blue overalls and a vibrant red plaid shirt. He was marching proudly and twirling a short pole with streamers attached to either end. Then Link gasped: after Talon came Zelda and Malon looking more beautiful than he had words to describe. Zelda’s hair had been plaited down both sides and she was wearing a new dress Link had never seen her in before. Malon had pulled her ginger hair back into two loops on either side of her bare neck and wore a dress and smock she had most likely borrowed from Zelda (Link thought she looked very royal) but also suited her well. After the sages finished their parade and song Afton clapped his hands with a chuckle. Link dismounted followed by Afton.

“Hey, Malon!” Link said, running to embrace her. Zelda scowled. Link’s insides turned around and he had the distinct feeling he was doing something unforgivable. He stepped back from Malon and looked around nervously. “Uh, I mean…hi.” He extended his hand.

“Oh, that’s right. I see you’ve already started actin’ like a Captain—bein’ right proper…” Malon said, taking his hand and curtseying.

Link thought Malon looked really nice when she curtseyed. “You look really nice when you curtsey,” he said.

“Aw, shucks,” Malon said, digging the toe of her buckled shoes in the dirt, blushing. Zelda cleared her throat. “Oh, Zelly taught me how; she can do it better. Isn’t that right, Zelly?”

“Master Captain,” Zelda said, extending her hand palm down. Link looked at her hand for a moment, then decided he should probably do something fancy. He splayed out his smaler fingers and tucked his other hand behind his back. Then he bowed as deeply as he could without letting go. When he found his waist would bend no further he decided to bend his knees. Link heard a s****** behind him, and then a full, healthy laugh. At first he thought he might have done something wrong, but then he realized it was the king laughing. Everyone else was watching Aako, who was mimicking Link with bent torso and knees. Link laughed out loud. Zelda did not look pleased.

“Oh, my boy! Perfectly charming. Forgive me, Master Captain, I did not wish to offend you. I suppose it has been a long time since I have had something to laugh about.” He continued to chuckle to himself.

“We got another li’l surprise for you,” said Malon, and she stepped aside. Out from behind Gor Darmon stepped Saria of the Koroki; ostensibly a child of six with green hair and clothing made of a material resembling large leaves. This time Link didn’t even think about Zelda.

“Saria! It’s been so long!” and Link embraced her firmly. She giggled and pretended to scold him, waggling a finger. Zelda glanced at Malon disapprovingly, who shrugged. “How are things?” asked Link. “Are the others okay? I haven’t been back for, sheesh, forever. What are you guys up to lately? Have you found any more books for me to…?”

“Ahem…” came another voice from behind Gor Darmon. Then, to Link’s utter astonishment, he saw a young woman he had almost forgotten—Ruto of the Zoras. He stared, wishing he would wake up…or at least disappear so the others couldn’t see him.

Ruto looked much like a younger version of her aunt, Lutai, who (like all Zoras) had slick blue skin with fine scales and fins growing from her arms and legs. Zoras also wore no clothing and had a kind of androgynous beauty across the sexes. Rarely, Zoras would develop unique features resembling certain aquatic animals (Ruto happened to have a pair of false eyes on either side of her fishy head). Some weeks ago she had given Link the Zora’s Sapphire, one of the Spiritual Stones necessary to open the Door of Time. It was also, conveniently, called the ‘Zora’s Engagement Ring,’ and Ruto had been told never to give it to any man but the one she wished to marry.

Saria turned to Aako. “Captain,” she said, and put her hand out just as Zelda had done. Aako mimicked Link again, bowing with his knees first.

But Link did not laugh. Instead he fumbled with his hands. “Hi, Ruto,” Link finally managed.

“So, Link,” said Ruto, cozying up to him. One of her damp flippers touched his arm and he fought the sudden urge to comment on how slimy it felt. “When should we start planning our wedding?”

“What?” asked Saria curiously.

“What?” asked Malon with a dejected look.

“What?!” said Zelda, livid; indignant even; perfectly irate.

Link was overcome. Desperate, he turned to the king. “Um…I’d love to hear some more music, your Majesty. Do you think you could…?”

“Of course my boy,” and Link was delighted to hear the Orchestra of Sages strike up a lovely serenade…until he realized they were playing the theme of the Water Temple which the Zora frequented often.

“Oh, perfect idea, darling,” said Ruto. “They could play this at the reception.”

“Or something else…?” Link said, inching away from the Zora girl. “Maybe a bolero?”

“Certainly,” said the king and a broad smile spread over Gor Darmon’s leathery face as he led the rest of the sages in the theme of the Fire Temple. Link tried frantically to remove Ruto’s fishy hands from his arm—at first covertly, then outright—but try as he might her arms were too slippery and she would not let go.

Afton must have noticed, for he was saying something to Talon. Talon brushed a finger over his bushy black mustache and came over to Link’s unoccupied side, cupping a hand to Link’s ear. “There’s pie inside, in case you were wonderin’…”

“That’s great!” Link said out loud. Ruto jumped. The Orchestra of Sages stopped suddenly, looking at Link. “I mean, that was great, guys. Just…” he started clapping. “Amazing…tears, see?” This seemed to agree with the sages, who bowed courteously. Everyone, including Ruto, clapped as well. This gave Link a chance to escape. He went up and shook the king’s hand with both of his. “That was amazing, your Majesty, just… I’ve never heard music played like that before… Maybe you’d like to join me for pie inside…now,” he added, glancing over his shoulder. Link’s heart jumped to his throat; Zelda and Malon were listening to Ruto, who was speaking animatedly. Zelda’s arms were crossed and Malon had a general look of disappointment on her face. Link ground his teeth together.

“Yes, well, we’re glad you enjoyed our little performance,” said the king. “But, if you’ll excuse us we will need to make arrangements for later today, if you understand me…” Link knew he was talking about the festivities at noon. The sages prepared to leave.

“Shall I fetch your horse, your Majesty?” asked Talon.

“No, thank you Master Rancher; I think I can accommodate myself.” And the king put his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. In seconds the king’s white horse trotted up from elsewhere in the ranch. It had a burnished red leather saddle and matching dagged reins.

“Oh, and Captain,” said the king, mounting. Link looked at him directly. “This was a private performance in your honor; strictly speaking none of the sages were here…if you understand my meaning.” The king put his finger to his nose. Link remembered that the sages were supposed to be in hiding; none were to know that they were the newly manifested white sages supposedly sent by the Goddesses. Coming here in their usual appearances was a very special exception indeed. “I’ve already briefed Master Talon concerning the details; he’s a trustworthy fellow.”

Link cast his eyes over the six sages. “I really appreciate it. Thank you, all of you.” Aako had just brought his hand away from Rauru’s ear. Rauru met Link’s gaze and hastily mumbled something to Aako. Link noticed that Rauru had a very weary expression on his face. Link was reminded of the conversation he never got to have with Rauru about the identity of the knight in the graveyard at Kakariko. Then Rauru quickly turned away, removing a white mask from the sleeve of his robe.

“Rauru wait, I need to talk to…” but Rauru had already found a moment when neither the rancher nor the girls were watching and had placed the mask on his face, disappearing in a swirl of pale white light. The other sages took little notice but said goodbye and walked away, finding similar moments to place their own white masks on their own faces. They, too, disappeared in so many swirls of white. Link continued to stare blankly into the empty space where Rauru was moments before.

With a wave of his ivory baton the king’s clothing returned to its normal appearance and his mushroom-shaped hat disappeared—he wore his usual red coat and white leggings. The king nodded to Afton and Talon. “Master Rancher. Lieutenant.” He clicked his tongue and the horse clopped away through the ranch’s main gate. Only then did Talon realize the sages were gone.

“Well, I’ll be; they didn’t even stay for pie,” said Talon. “I reckon that jus’ means there’ll be more fer the rest of us…”

The next thing Link noticed was Afton’s hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Link. Let’s go inside,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Link, finally pulling his gaze away. “Yeah, okay.” He thought a piece of pie might cheer him up. But when he turned around he saw three displeased young women staring directly at him. Zelda and Ruto had their arms crossed and Malon looked forlorn, toeing the dirt. For the second time that day Link wished he could either wake up or disappear.

But then Saria grabbed Link’s hand. “Pie,” she said, and pulled Link toward the ranch-house. Link just shrugged with a coy smile and went with her. Three displeased young women glanced at each other only a moment before they darted away toward the ranch-house as well.

Talon just stood where he was. “D’you think we ought ter…”

“We’ll let them sort things out, I think,” said Afton. “Could I trouble you for a stall for Geoffrey, Master Rancher?”

“Please, please…this place is as good as yours,” said Talon, taking Geoffrey’s reins. “An’ all that ‘Master’ stuff don’t mean much t’me. You can call me Talon or anything you want…’ceptin’ maybe late for supper.”

“Thank you, Talon. That means a great deal to me.” They walked toward the stable in silence. When they reached the door Afton spoke again. “Talon, I wonder—might I talk to you about something?”

“Sure, pardner,” said Talon, patting Afton’s back lightly. “These ears ain’t pointed for nothin’. What’s on yer mind?”

“I’m afraid Rauru’s presence has reminded me of a matter I need to address with my nephew…”

* * *

Ruto, Malon and Zelda had each made a different kind of pie for Link. It confounded Link how quickly girls could change; one minute they had been absolutely furious with him and the next they were all trying to get him to eat their various confections. Link figured that eating what they offered him could only keep them happy, so he did the smartest thing he could think of; oblige them all.

“No, really, it was great, Ruto. I’m just…really full.” Link tried to smile, but three slices of pie was beginning to disagree with him…especially when the most recent had been made with an unidentifiable breed of fish that smelled like Link’s tunic before it had been washed and pressed for him this morning. Link laid his head down on the dining-room table. Saria patted Link lightly on the back. Malon was sitting at the table staring at a slice of her own apple pie. She nudged it with a fork absentmindedly.

“It doesn’t look like you enjoyed it, darling,” said Ruto. “Maybe her Highness’ pie made you sick…”

“Maybe it’s because you fed him smelly fish,” said Zelda. “Here, Link, try another piece of cherry; it’ll make you feel better.” Link did not respond.

Ruto pressed her fists into her fishy hips. “What do you mean ‘smelly fish?’ I live in the water and I don’t smell!”

“You never bathe either…” Zelda rebutted.

“I’m always bathing!”

“Not with soap!” Zelda observed. “You don’t even have hair; all you have is a slimy fish-head…”

Ruto stepped back as if she had been slapped. “They ought to wash out your mouth with soap! And I hope you choke when they do! Besides, some Zora males like the way our water smells on the women.”

“Yeah and they apparently also like the taste of stink-fish pie.”

Ruto shoved her pie under Zelda’s nose. “That’s reek-fish, I’ll have you know! It’s a Zora delicacy.”

Zelda reeled from the smell. “No kidding,” she said, clapping her hands over her nose and mouth. “Acquired taste, right?”

“It’s probably too refined for you, anyways.”

“Go dip yourself in the horse-tank.”

Saria watched the two princesses intently, her green eyes flitting back and forth like a pendulum. Link sighed, his head still on the table. Malon just frowned.

Talon entered, throwing his arms out wide. “Well, it looks like you’ve gotten to try a little pie, then, Link. Which one was your favorite?”

Link raised his head from the table. “Saria’s.” He rested his head on the table again.

“Saria’s?!” said Ruto, distracted from her bout with Zelda. “But Saria didn’t even make a pie!”

“Exactly,” said Link without lifting his head from the table.

Malon’s face scrunched up and she shoved her slice of apple pie into her father’s hands. She ran through the kitchen, slamming the back door behind her. Talon watched her go, perplexed. He smelled the pie in his hands and took a bite.

Then Saria’s face brightened and it looked like she had a very good idea. She grabbed an empty pie-tin from the table and ran out the back door, slamming it after her as Malon had done. Confused, Zelda and Ruto went to the window. When Link realized that Zelda and Ruto were not arguing anymore he raised his head up to see why everything had become so quiet. Then Saria came back in with the pie-tin, now full of mud and sticks. Covering the top was a layer of leaves.

“Pie,” said Saria, holding it out to Link. Mud was dripping from her hands to the table.

A smile crept across Link’s face. Suddenly he didn’t feel so bad. Just then Afton entered, leaning against the entryway.

“Whelp,” said Talon, finishing the apple pie Malon had thrust at him, “I s’pose it’s time for presents. I’ll jes’ go an’ get Mal.” He wiped his mustache on a cloth and walked out the back door, closing it gently behind him. Link watched him go.

“Link…” Afton said, choking on the name. “I have something I need to tell you.” Link thought he looked regretful. Wetness was leaking from his eyes.

Link looked around at the others in the room. “It’s okay, Afton,” he said, placing his hand on his uncle’s arm. “I wasn’t expecting anything from you anyway. You’ve made all of this so great, I’m just glad to have you as an uncle. Besides, you gave me my dad’s shield and I ended up using that a lot.”

“Oh, no, Link. It’s not that.”

“Oh.” Link’s eyebrows came together. “Then what’s wrong?”

“I have done you dishonor,” Afton said, lifting his face from his hands. “I haven’t been truthful with you.”

Link felt humbled. Ever since Link had first met Afton he felt like he had to cover up parts of his life so he wouldn’t sound like a thieving lunatic. All this time he had felt so guilty about not being honest with his uncle and now Afton was the one confessing; Link felt like a coward. He stood from the table. “No, Afton, I should apologize to you…” he began.

Afton looked up with reddened eyes. “Please, Link, I should finish,” Afton said plaintively. He looked like a guilty man who wished to confess his sins. Link closed his mouth, humbled even more still. Afton gulped on a breath. “I misled you about the identity of the knight in the grave of Kakariko Village.”

Link’s eyes widened. He had almost given up any hope of uncovering this mystery. “Do you know who it is?” Link asked. The prospect of discovering the knight’s identity lifted Link’s spirits until he could barely stand the anticipation.

Saria’s eyes twinkled with grim knowledge. “Orrin,” she said.

Upon hearing the name Afton quickly composed himself. With a glance at the others in the room he made the hand-sign for ‘secret.’ Afton had taught Link many of the hidden hand-signs of the Sheikah, who had taught them only to the Hylian royal family and the knights of Hyrule. Link knew that the sign for ‘secret’ also meant ‘private.’

Zelda said nothing, but took Saria by the hand. “Hey Ruto, let’s all see what Malon’s up to,” she said. Link looked at Zelda, comprehending. Zelda led a confused Ruto out the back door. Saria followed.

When they were gone, Afton spoke again. “The knight whose casket was buried in that grave was my grandfather, Orrin.”

Several emotions fought for dominance inside Link; elation at finally discovering the knight’s identity, happiness at the fact that he now knew something about his mother’s grandfather, and disappointment that Afton had withheld this knowledge from him; especially after Link had vented his frustration to Afton when Rauru would not tell him! Finally a pressure filled up Link’s ears and he fought to keep hot tears behind his red face. His fists balled up and loosened involuntarily and he looked away, exhaling a restrained breath.

When he looked again he saw Afton on one knee; prostrate like a servant before his king as if pleading for mercy. Link felt a little odd about this kind of severe humility—but then, he convinced himself, he knew little of Hylian customs. It was such a personal gesture, even if Zelda and the others were still in the room it would have felt to Link like he and Afton were the only two people who existed at that moment. The pressure in Link’s ears relaxed and the anger in him subsided. He exhaled slowly.

Afton was still facing the floor. “I wished to tell you before, but the truth was hard for even me to bear. I did not wish to weigh you down…”

It occurred to Link that Afton was not speaking only of the fact that he had not revealed the nature of his grandfather’s grave. When Afton looked up his expression told Link of a deeper hurt than guilt. It was shame, he realized.

Link’s brows released their tension. “What truth?” he asked quietly.

Seeing his nephew’s compassion, Afton pulled gently on Link’s arm. They both sat on the floor together. “Link, your great-grandfather was one of Hyrule’s greatest traitors.” Without waiting for any questions to mature in his nephew’s mind, Afton continued. “It was during the War of the Golden Land. My grandfather, Orrin, had been one of the knights placed in charge of the gate that led to the Golden Land and, it was assumed, the Triforce itself. Too many of our people had gone inside, crazed by the prospect of limitless power. Countless knights had died trying to prevent their brothers from going in, never to come out again. My grandfather and the other knights were all that was left of those who sought to preserve the Hylia from their own destruction.

“Then, under the cloak of night, a unit of Sheikah spies came to the borders of Hylian lands. They infiltrated the knight’s camp unseen and—under Orrin’s watch—they entered the Golden Gate entirely unchecked.” Link thought of the times when he had snuck past the guards into Hyrule Castle and felt a little ashamed. Afton continued: “The following night another unit of men came from Kakariko Village to enter the gate, but this time the guard had been increased and they were caught. But they were not Sheikah spies but Hylian men; dissenters who had sought out the Sheikah to learn how they might achieve what the Sheikah had. And this was not all—one of the men, the leader of the dissenters, was Orrin.”

Link watched as the statement made Afton hunch visibly. “But Afton,” Link said, “I thought you said he was defending the gate. How could he…?”

“He was defending the gate,” Afton snapped, and then he immediately apologized with his eyes for being so terse; Link was not Afton’s reason for being upset. For the slightest moment Link thought he saw the years of shame rest on his uncle, but Afton quickly shrugged and continued again. “Grandfather turned away once he saw how the Sheikah had been able to avoid all of the guards—he let the Sheikah enter the gate. He should have caught them; arrested them. Instead, Orrin watched the gate to see if the Sheikah would return—they never did. Then Orrin left his post and assembled as many dissenters as he could at a moment’s notice. They sought out the master of the Sheikah to teach them how to enter as his spies had.”

“But he was guarding the gate himself,” Link reasoned. “Why didn’t he just go in if he really wanted to?”

Afton looked directly at his nephew. “We don’t know. By then legends of the maladies of the Golden Land were widespread and worse than rumor; some said that the moment you stepped into the Golden Land you suffocated on the fume of the Evil Breath. Others swore they had seen some unlucky soul return malformed and hideous. Mother thought grandfather wanted to take some of the other dissenters with him to enter the Golden Land together; if they worked in league with one another one of them was sure to obtain the Triforce. But he never spoke of wanting to get into the Golden Land. His fellow guards said he had been perfectly fine until that day, and then he got restless and nervous. Your mother thought he must have caught the Madness; that foul breath which issued from the Golden Land, enticing men to enter the Gate in search of the Triforce, never to return.”

“So once he came back with his…other partners…they got in?” said Link.

“Not at first. When he was caught there was a court martial and the evidence was brought against him. He not only neglected and abandoned his post, but he aided even more of our people in losing themselves to the Madness. He and the dissenters with him were imprisoned and their punishments carried out. Orrin’s shield was ceremonially broken in half; irreparable.”

Link’s heart sank. He knew that a knight’s shield was the symbol of his devotion to serve the Goddesses and protect the royal family. Allowing it to go unrepaired was a sign of severe of neglect in one’s duty to the royal family and the Goddesses. Having it snapped it in half outright was to label the man an unquestionable traitor. What joy there was in knowing that the mysterious knight was his great-grandfather had somehow been drained from him. Now there was only an empty sadness. “But…but he was a good knight before, right?”

“One of Hyrule’s most valiant,” said Afton, wetness welling in his eyes.

Link bowed his head. It all made sense now; Orrin must have been sentenced to death for his crime. That must have been why Rauru didn’t want Link to find out about who was in the grave. “How did Orrin die?” he asked quietly.

“He…he didn’t.”

This was more difficult for Link to assimilate than anything else Afton had said. “But you said he was buried in…”

“I said his casket was buried there,” Afton corrected. After he let this idea take place in Link’s mind he continued. “My grandfather escaped the Hylian jail alone and made a run for the Golden Gate. He was shot in the eye with an arrow, but this did not stop him from…” Afton faltered, his eyes welling with wetness again.

“…getting into the Golden Land,” finished Link. This meant that there was not even a body to bury.

Afton nodded. “He was never seen again.”

Link’s mind was burning with questions, but he remained silent; it must have been a hard thing for Afton to know that his grandfather had betrayed his people. Orrin did not die an honorable death—as was fitting of a knight of Hyrule—he disappeared into the golden void that had consumed the minds of so many others.

Afton finally spoke again, pulling Link from his thoughts. “My father was always agonized by the shame. He left Karin and me with our mum just after I was born. When I was old enough to understand why my father left we had a funeral for Orrin,” he said. “There wasn’t a body, so we just buried a casket. Your father Colin was there for my sister… He really was a remarkable man,” Afton said, nodding sincerely. “My sister was very lucky to have him.”

Link’s face burned hot. “Thanks,” was all he could think to say. Link’s father, Colin, had given his life protecting the queen of Hyrule; the most honorable of sacrifices possible for a Hylian Knight. All that remained of Colin was his shield, which had been buried with the queen’s coffin in the royal tomb. It occurred to Link that his father had had no proper burial either.

Suddenly another thought occurred to Link. The shield he exhumed from the graveyard was certainly that of a more modern Hylian Knight. The shield Link now owned had once belonged to his father and it varied somewhat in style from the more recent ones; in point of fact, the one that was buried in Orrin’s grave—the one that now lay at rest with his other self, sealed in the Sacred Realm.

“Afton, if grandfather Orrin was never buried in Kakariko Graveyard, then whose shield was buried there?”

Afton’s brows came together and his expression sharpened quickly, just bordering on outright disbelief. “But you couldn’t know about that!” he said finally, shaking his head.

Link realized too late that he had ratted himself out. He took a deep breath and said it as fast as he could: “I lied to you, too, Afton, I’m really sorry!” Link winced, bracing himself for the worst. To his relief, however, Afton didn’t look angry, but perplexed.

“But… How could you know?” Afton repeated.

When Link saw that Afton wasn’t angry he felt unworthy—as if he should have done something more than just blurt things out—like bow, or something…

“Well,” he explained, “I didn’t really buy my first Hylian shield from the Castle Town market. I found it in grandfather Orrin’s grave. I thought the gravekeeper had buried it there as part of his Scary Tour game…” Link offered him a guilty smile.

Afton’s eyes widened and he let out a good-natured chuckle. “Is that right?” he said still laughing softly. “My little grave-robbing nephew!” he reached out and tossed Link’s hair with his hand, reminding Link that he was still very young and that Afton, though he was Link’s First Lieutenant, was still his uncle.

“Well, I mean Dampé has been giving those tours for years,” Link justified. “I just…helped myself, that’s all.”

“Well there’s no harm done, I suppose—it was my shield.”

Link was shocked. “It was your shield?”

“Yes. It was the very first shield I owned,” said Afton in significantly better spirits. “I left on grandfather’s tombstone as soon as I got it. Must have been about seven years ago. I always assumed Dampé had put it into storage. Makes sense he would bury it in grandfather’s grave, though… Sounds like him…”

“You mean you gave up your first shield? But what about ‘a knight’s dedication to the Goddesses’ and all that?”

“Oh, that,” said Afton guiltily. “Well, I felt like grandfather Orrin deserved it, somehow.” He shrugged. “He was no shining apple on the family tree, but if he hadn’t been a knight I probably would never have been. It only seemed fitting. Besides, I was younger then…”

“Hey!”

“Sorry…” said Afton. “Present company and whatnot…” He smiled and shrugged at the same time.

“But what did you do without a shield?” Link asked. “Where did you get the one I saw you with when I first met you?”

“Bought it at the Town Market on the way back from the graveyard,” said Afton with a wry smile. “No one was the wiser.”

Link brought his fist to Afton’s shoulder. “You little cheat! You made me feel guilty for having your Hylian shield when the shield you have isn’t even yours!”

Afton put on a face of compromise. “You know, Link, it’s really not the shield that’s important; it’s what it means to you. Tell me: how did you feel the first time you used your father’s shield?”

Link knew the answer, but he considered how much he wanted to say. He felt bold: “Like it was him protecting me…”

“There, you see? And once I left my shield on my grandfather’s grave I felt that my becoming a knight could somehow protect him from the shame of his deeds. Something inside me chose not to blame him, though the weight of what he did has rested heavily on me for a long time…until now. Now that I know what you have done with my shield, the one I placed in Orrin’s grave, I feel that our family honor has been restored. Do you see what I mean? The shield is just a symbol. It’s the symbol that has real strength.”

“Yeah. I guess I haven’t really ever had a shield of my own either. Except maybe that one you got me from the armory. You know; the one with the winged skull on it?”

“Ah, yes. Whatever happened to that, by the way?”

Link winced. It was no good trying to avoid the subject now that telling the truth was going so well. “It’s, uh…in another dimension,” Link said.

Afton paused, his eyebrows frowning. “How do you mean?”

“Afton,” said Link, putting his hand on his uncle’s arm, “it seems I have a little more to tell you about Termina…”

* * *

The Mask Keeper ducked under a low-hanging branch. Then he was yanked backward as the branch caught on the pack of masks on his back. “Cursed trees.” His taller body, gaunt though it was, did make it easier to carry the large pack. His previous form—which he had stolen from Brutus (before he enslaved the man as a pony, of course)—was smaller and had made it much easier to get under the low-hanging branches. Now that he had revealed the pitiable soul for who he was the Mask Salesman chose to leave Brutus behind. He would be dazed and unused to his rediscovered self and therefore a poor travelling companion. Besides, thought the Mask Salesman, he would be happier with the children anyway, and they would probably be happy with him. The brown man untangled himself from his arboreal captor and pressed forward.

He had been travelling for hours. There was no sign of the stick-children and there was no way of knowing where he was going. That white-faced forest kid had explained that the Lost Woods were always changing; any place within them always led to some other part of the forest, but one could never expect where. Only the Koroki were able to make the forest stay; for anyone else going in one direction was as good as another.

The Mask Keeper had passed up many landmarks, most of which he had seen at least twice. There were streams or sometimes little pools of water where he would pause just long enough to drink. There were dead trees and stumps where he would pause just long enough to rest before moving on his way. The path was endless and it was not until the Mask Keeper could see the sun coming down through the leaves from directly overhead that he stopped to let his pack off his back.

The place was a large stone grotto with high walls and a circular arcade in the center. It looked like it had been built within the last century, but never used. Vines covered almost everything, and there was a smell of life about it; freshly decomposed soil and fragrant flowers. The Mask Keeper could hear the skritching of tiny bugs everywhere and birds perched where the tree branches overhung the stone walls.

The Mask Keeper stepped reverently under the circular arcade and beheld a raised stone platform in the center. It bore an inscription:

Life and death their paths do dance,
Through time and space we pass in trance,
But death to life sets Gods at bay,
And river Time complete doth stay.

Resting his pack against the stone platform, the brown-skinned man reached in among the masks and pulled out one that looked like the face of an eagle with large white wings stretching out and back to either side. He looked around him, up at the tops of the high trees and then bent forward, pressing his face into the winged mask. All at once his form shrank dramatically and instead of a tall brown-skinned man there was a white eagle with red eyes.

The eagle jumped into the air and flapped its wings, flying around and around the stone grotto, climbing higher. When it reached the top of one of the taller trees it perched there and surveyed its surroundings. A moderate wind was blowing and on all sides there was a mottling of arboreal greens. The eagle looked above and there was the sun—a golden orb hanging in the middle of a ceiling of bright blue—but off toward the horizon on all sides was a drab gray fog. The eagle looked in one direction and saw the upper half of an enormous tree near the horizon, its dead branches reaching into the air like cracks against the stone-grey sky. That must be the Dekku Tree, the Mask Keeper thought—but it did not stand in the direction he had come.

Then, peering closer with its sharp red eyes, the eagle saw the enormous tree retreat—actually retreat—into the fog. The salesman-bird shook its head. Sure enough, the Dekku Tree was disappearing into the horizon. Then, moments later it emerged from another place further off to the eagle’s left. This was strong magic, thought the eagle. This was why he could never get anywhere; the wood was most literally—and exasperatingly—lost.

The fog surrounding the forest advanced and retreated, consuming some trees and disgorging others. The fog came very near at one point, and it was then that the eagle had decided it had seen enough. It could not say whether those portions of the forest that the fog consumed would be adversely affected, but it did not want to be around to find out.

When the eagle turned around to descend from its perch it nearly fell off instead. There—where before there had only been a far-off castle—was a wall of stone looming only yards away. At the height of the stone wall was a set of shingled towers; a temple had suddenly phased into existence where nothing but trees had been before. The eagle released its grip on the tree and half-fell, half-dove to the ground where it opened its wings and alighted. In another moment the eagle grew into a tall, gaunt, brown-skinned man who removed a winged mask from his face. He peered curiously out of the stone grotto in the direction of the newly existent temple; the direction he had come. It was no longer forest, but the opening of a well-crafted stone archway.

Well, this isn't bad, I have seen worse. My only major gripe that is worth mentioning is that, there are a lot of run-on sentences and some of the dialogue seems a bit cliched. Like, it is good to be detailed but sometimes enough is enough. Hope I did not seem too harsh here, that was not my intent

Mandi~
I took your advice into consideration and found at least one place where I could cut back on the description. Consequently, I revised a little of the previous chapter. Thanks for the input; I'll be mindful of description overkill in the future!

Have you read the first three episodes by chance?

Chapter V
GIFTS or “Scale and Mail”

“This Mask Salesman sounds like a strange fellow. You say he was always smiling?” Afton asked.

“Oh, yeah. But don’t get him mad; then he really looks creepy! All bloodshot eyes and gets kinda twitchy…” Link did his best Mask Salesman impression including wide eyes and a smile that stretched across his face. He hunched over and wrung his hands. “Where’s my mask, little boy? I’ve been following you, you know! Where’s my mask…?”

Afton shut his eyes, visibly disturbed. “Okay, okay, I think I get it…”

Once Afton and Link had discussed some of the more general points about Termina, it was well into late morning. Afton had asked his fill of questions, and he finally held up a finger and reached behind him.

“I have something for you.” He pulled out a flat something wrapped in linen cloth and handed it to his nephew. “Happy birthday, Link.”

“Gosh, thanks Afton!” said Link, genuinely enthused at the thought of his very first birthday present. Unfolding the linen produced a square package wrapped in brown paper and tied with hemp cord. The cords, Link noticed, had little bells attached to them. Link regarded the brown package with disappointment. “Gee, um…thanks…”

“That’s not the present,” Afton said, rolling his eyes. “You have to unwrap it,” he said, pulling one of the belled cords loose of its knot.

“Oh,” said Link, comprehending. “Hey, neat!” Inside the brown paper was a leather-bound book, but when Link flipped through the pages he found them empty. “What gives? Wait…is this magic, like the Book of Mudora? Do I have to knock on it or something?” Link was about to do just that when Afton stopped him, chuckling.

“No, Link; it’s blank on purpose. You know, like a journal?”

“Oh.” Link stared at the square volume considering for a moment what this meant. “Um, Afton? I’m not sure about this…”

“Why not? I think you’d be a great writer; all you have to do is start and then let the story tell itself…”

“No, Afton, that’s not what I mean…” Afton’s expression told Link he would have to explain. “I haven’t got anything to write with,” said Link.

“Well of course, that was coming next,” said Afton, visibly relieved. He pulled a pair of pencils out of his pocket. “See, look; the cords go here…” Afton took the book and laid it flat—opening to the center page—and then threaded the belled cord through the book’s spine. Then he doubled the cord over and pulled it through the loop that was formed so that the two belled ends could lie in between pages. “See? That way you always know where you are in your book…” Then Afton closed the journal and threaded one of the pencils through a series of leather loops along the closure so the book would stay shut. “And that’s so you can keep your pencil with it. This other one goes in your satchel for later.” He handed the book and pencil back to his nephew.

“Hey, that’s neat—it’s like a puzzle!” exclaimed Link. Afton beamed. As Link admired the cover of the book he noticed a square patch of darker leather just above center. “What’s this for?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s so you can give your book a title. You don’t have to give it one now, but when you’re ready you can bring it by Martha in Castle Town at the printing shop. I already arranged for her to set it—gold lettering and all.”

Link was visibly impressed. “Is that where you got this; from Martha?”

“Nope. I made it.”

Link’s jaw dropped. “You made this?”

Afton shrugged. “I’m not just good at sword-fighting, you know. Well-rounded people have many talents; this just happens to be one of mine. I’m glad you like it,” he added.

Then Link’s expression changed. “Gee, I mean… I wouldn’t want to write in this, Afton… What if what I write isn’t good enough?”

Afton seemed to expect this comment. “Link, an empty book is as good as a life not lived. You’ll never know what’s good enough until you try.” Link said nothing, but this seemed to make him feel better about his new gift. Afton let Link admire the volume for another moment before he spoke again. “So, does this mean you’ll write down some of your adventures? I’d love to hear them when you have them all written up. Between yesterday and today I’ve heard enough to know that your life would be really interesting to read in your own words; you really have a gift for storytelling…”

Link blushed. Afton had a way of making him feel like the most important person in all of Hyrule. He jutted his bottom lip out experimentally. “I think I could do that,” he said, nodding. “I guess this means I’ll have to practice my handwriting; I haven’t written in awhile.”

Afton seemed pleased to hear this. “What do you think you’ll write about first?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Then Link snapped his fingers. “Hey! I could tell about the future! You know; the one I came from…” Link regarded his journal as if it already contained the unique history. “Or maybe I could tell about Termina; I bet nobody’s been there! I’d be the only one who knew about it…” His gaze wandered as if he saw all the things he desperately wanted to describe in his new journal.

Afton was suddenly reminded of something. “Hey, Link, do you remember that boar I told you about? The one that I fought before you came back from Termina?”

“Oh, yeah,” Link said, remembering. “The one that ripped up your tunic and Malon had to sew it back together…”

“Right,” said Afton, recalling the experience with mixed emotions. “Well, it’s interesting how you describe this portal to Termina that just happened to be open; I had never seen boars like that one in Hyrule before. Do you suppose the portal had been opened recently?”

Link considered the idea. “Well, it had to be open long enough for someone to take the Dark Mirror from the Forest of Light and hide it in the basement of Ilkana Castle… I didn’t see any of those boars around in Termina, if that’s what you mean. I don’t think it came from there.”

“Well it wouldn’t have to, if you follow me. If one portal was open there may still be more we don’t know about. Last night you said there were places where you could push into the… What did you call it?”

“Dark world,” said Link. “That was what the Maidens called it, anyway. This one old guy from the Blue Maiden’s village said the portals were called Moon Gates. But you had to have a Moon Pearl to use them…” He thought how ridiculous it must have sounded.

“Right. So here’s this portal that takes you to Termina—a place like a different Hyrule—and then these places suddenly appear where you can push into this…shadow dimension? There has to be an explanation. Just consider the history: back when the gate to the Golden Land first opened they were losing an impossible number of people to the Evil Breath every day. Some said people were disappearing without even coming near the gate in Castle Town. There might have been more than one portal and people just never knew because there was no one left to say anything…”

“Afton,” said Link, coming to his own realization. “Do you think every time the Golden Gate opens gates to other places open too…like the one into Termina?”

“That could be…”

“Because if that’s true, then the portal to Termina could have opened when I drew the Master Sword…er, when my other self drew the Master Sword.”

“It’s a good theory; worth mentioning to Tobias, I think. We should see him as soon as we have the chance. If any more portals are found they will need to be closed—who knows what creatures might already have crossed over.” Then Afton fell into a shallow reminiscence. “If I can avoid meeting any more of those horrid boars I’ll be all the better; they smelled horrible.” He winced.

Link nodded meaningfully. “Yeah. If I never meet a monstrous pig again in my entire life, I’ll be as happy as that creepy Mask Salesman!” They laughed together, a hearty good-natured laugh. An hour ago Link could have said that he felt broken and it seemed odd to him just how quickly he had been put back together again. If Afton had felt like Link’s only family before, Link felt that family had somehow just gotten bigger.

* * *

Link put his journal and extra pencil in his satchel and he and Afton rejoined the others outside in the back yard. The girls had been playing a rousing game of Super-cucco led up by Talon.

“Hey! Looks like Malon wins again!” said the rancher. Malon curtseyed. “Good effort, though, Ruto.” Ruto looked like she had given the game nothing of the sort; she had given up on catching the chickens long ago and was watching the others forlornly. Saria was marching around with a clucking hen on her head and Zelda had succeeded in catching one cucco by the feet. It flapped its wings in panic, screeching. Soon the other cuccos took up the ruckus.

Link’s eyes widened. “Zelda, let go of the…!”

But it was too late. All at once the chickens rose up in rebellion against their coop-mate’s captor. Zelda was bombarded with pecking beaks and fluttering wings. She released the chicken and shooed the rest away from her, red in the face with embarrassment. She stared at the ground, her hands balled up in fists at her side.

Ruto avoided the cackling brood and approached Talon cautiously. “Pardon me,” she said, “but where’s…?” Her voice trailed off.

“What’s that, missy?” said Talon, wiggling the tip of his pinky into his ear. “Say it again.”

“Where is the nearest horse-trough, please?” Ruto said aloud, her cheeks turning a darker shade of blue in the Zora approximation of a blush.

“Oh, right over there, missy. Just past the coop on yer left. Cain’t miss it.” Zelda s******ed as Ruto passed, forgetting her own embarrassment in light of this new development. Ruto stuck out her tongue and Zelda rolled her eyes.

Then Talon saw Link watching from the door. “Hey, it’s the man-of-honor hisself. Everything all-right there, Lieutenant?” Talon saluted Afton with the flat of his hand. Afton smiled, returning the salute casually.

“Great! Then I reckon it’s time for gifts,” said Talon, rubbing his hands together. “Now, who wants to give their gift first?”

There was a splash and Ruto and Zelda immediately rushed for the back door of the house, Ruto trailing a long streak of water after her. The chicken flew off of Saria’s head and Link and Afton had to jump out of the way to avoid getting wet.

“No fair!” said Saria, her bottom lip jutting out. She sat in the dirt. The other chickens scattered away, clucking.

Talon squatted by Saria. “Did you wanna give Link yer gift, young’un?” The look on Saria’s face instantly changed to glee. She jumped up, ran over to Link and threw her arms around him.

Link hugged her tightly. “It’s good to see you again, Saria. Thanks for coming, today.” Saria squeezed harder and then looked up into Link’s face. “Was the hug my present?” Saria nodded. “I thought so.” He smiled.

“Did you care t’go next, Lieutenant?” offered Talon.

“Oh, Afton already gave me his present,” said Link. He reached into his satchel and removed the book. “It’s a journal,” he said, extending it in Talon’s direction. The rancher regarded the square object with confusion blended with vague curiosity.

Talon’s tongue protruded as he tried to open the volume. “Hrm…” said the rancher, “seems locked or other…” Malon took it gingerly from her father.

“Like this, Poppa,” she said, and removed the pencil from the leather loops. Talon let the book fall open. “Right; I was gonna do that next… I’ve just got big fingers, see?” Talon explained.

“Of course you do, Poppa.” Malon patted her father’s thick arm.

The rancher peered at the blank pages. “Hmph,” he concluded. “Just as well there ain’t no words; I cain’t read anyhow.” He handed the book and pencil back to Link. Link took it proudly and reassembled it before placing it in his satchel once more. “Well,” the rancher beamed brightly, “I guess that leaves just Malon an’ me,” beamed Talon brightly. “I expec’ mine won’t take as long as Mally’s so I’ll go first if that’s okay Mal—?”

“Sure, Poppa,” said Malon, rounding up the chickens. Link noticed that she was happier than before. She must really enjoy her life here at the ranch, he thought. He wondered whether she would ever consider coming to the castle to visit…

Suddenly something offensive-smelling was thrust under Link’s nose. He saw Talon holding out what seemed to be a wad of leather covered in bristly black hair. Link glanced at Afton through watery eyes. Afton’s hand was over his mouth but when he saw that Link was watching him he quickly made the sign for ‘pig’ followed by ‘rancher’ and ‘gift’. Link’s eyes widened, comprehending. He remembered what Afton had said about Talon’s banners…

“Oh, wow, Talon, this looks great!” said Link unfolding the bristly-black-fur-thing. It turned out to be a full set of cold-weather clothing including a coat, pants, boots, gloves and even a floppy hat all made from the black leather—the same boar, in fact, that Afton had slain. The articles of clothing were very well-made in terms of quality, but the stench was incredible.

Talon rocked from his heels to his toes. “It ain’t much, but I been workin’ on it ever since I got ahold of the leather an’ I had to trim it to Mally’s size since you was off doin’ hero things—I figgered she was your age, see, so it should fit. Go on, now, try it on.”

Link gritted his teeth and blinked the wetness from his eyes. This seemed to make Talon feel very proud—he must think Link was crying out of appreciation, Link thought. Link set the bundle of clothing down on the hard packed earth and pulled the coat around his shoulders, sliding his arms through the sleeves cautiously. It did fit Link well. “It really…fits. Thanks, Talon.” Link said, blinking again. He noticed Afton suppressing a laugh. Link reminded himself to punch Afton later.

“Aw, shucks, yer welcome,” Talon said, tossing Link’s hair under his green cap. Link’s bangs ended a good bit more disheveled more than usual.

Link noticed that Malon was watching him, smiling. He suddenly felt his chest fly into his throat and his face turned hot. “Um…I think it’s a little warm, just now,” he said. “I’ll just put this away until the weather cools off, Talon, thanks.”

“Oh, yeah, o’ course,” said Talon. He took the clothing back and tied it in a bundle with some string. “I’ll jes’ keep this here so’s you don’t have ta carry it ever’where-like.” He placed the bundle gently under the bench next to the back door of the ranch-house. “So, Mally, I guess you’re it.”

Malon blushed. “Well,” she said, walking toward Link slowly. “I thought a long while about what I could give you, but nothin’ else seemed t’make sense…” She demurred. “But I didn’t want to embarrass you, see, an’ I jus’ figgered we could do it together.” Link was becoming very nervous now. His heart seemed to be pumping only through his ears; the rest of his body had gone curiously numb. “So I guess I’ll give you a head start and if you win, you can keep Epona!”

Like a pendulum swinging, Link’s heart suddenly sank into his boots, but then quickly recovered when he realized what Malon was talking about. “A race?” he said. Malon nodded, her two ginger loops bobbing against her shoulders. “And if I win I can keep Epona?!” Malon nodded again, smiling. Then Link’s face straightened as he looked in the direction of the ranch-house. “What’s that?” He grimaced.

Malon turned to see what it was. There was Afton, in the doorway, and her father standing next to him. Malon saw nothing suspicious. “Link, what…?” And then Afton pointed behind her. Link was halfway to the horse-pen, running frantically and glancing over his shoulder. “Hey, git back here you stupid boy!” Malon called, laughing. And she picked up the cloth of her skirt in a bundle and ran toward the horse-pen. Saria was close behind, picking up the drapes of an invisible dress.

Then there came a noise from inside the house of something heavy hitting the wood floor. Talon turned to Afton. “Kids okay?” he asked.

Afton glanced inside the ranch-house. He snorted comically. “They’re coming.”

Ruto exited the ranch-house in time to see Link throw his arms around Epona’s neck. Zelda was directly behind her, pressing between Afton and Ruto just as Malon was jumping the fence of the horse-pen and Link was galloping away. Ruto looked down at the small box in her hands.

“See Ruto!” said Zelda, setting a large package on top of the chicken coop. “If you hadn’t tackled me on the way out we could have gotten here in time!

“I didn’t tackle you! I told you, I’m not used to running on land. I tripped.”

“Haven’t you caused enough trouble already? Why don’t you just…”

“…go soak in the horse-trough? Gladly. Anything to get away from you.” She stormed off toward past the chicken coop, throwing her small blue box to the ground. Zelda rolled her eyes and exhaled indignantly.

Afton leaned over to Talon. “I think Link and I need to go soon, Talon. Would you mind if I excuse myself? I need to get my uniform on.”

Talon raised his bushy eyebrows. “A right official uniform, eh?” he responded quietly. “What all’s part o’ the get-up?”

Afton seemed amused. “Tell me, Talon, have you ever seen chain mail up close?”

“You mean those fancy metal shirts y’all wore when you was fightin’ that big pig beast? I don’t guess takin’ a closer look never hurt nobody…” Then he looked over at Zelda. She was staring out at the ranch, apparently lost in thought. “Do you s’pose we should leave ‘em alone with each other?”

Afton considered the question seriously. “I think Zelda and Ruto are responsible enough to restrain themselves from any infringements on physical impropriety.” Talon’s eyebrows came together looking very much like a second mustache. When Afton saw he needed to rephrase his statement he said “I don’t think they’ll hurt each other, no.” This satisfied Talon and he and Afton went inside the ranch-house, leaving the door ajar.

Zelda stared out at the ranch. A light midday breeze soothed her warm face, and there were few sounds other than the shuffling of horses’ hooves and the occasional neigh coming from the horse-pen. Then she heard the sound of galloping coming from across the ranch and she saw Link and Malon come around the curve of the horse track. Saria was straddling one of the fence-beams pretending she was riding alongside them. Link was ahead, followed closely by Malon. As Zelda saw them race past, laughing, wetness welled in her eyes. She bowed her head and sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Then she saw the blue box Ruto had discarded.

Looking back into the house to be sure Afton and Talon were occupied, Zelda went over to pick up Ruto’s box. It was tied shut with strands of seaweed. Gently, Zelda pulled the strands away and opened it. She gasped, raising her hand to her mouth.

Inside the box was a small light-blue scale. Zelda began to cry.

* * *

Ruto rolled over again, trying to find a comfortable position so she could fully submerge herself in the horse-trough. “Dumb horses,” she mumbled to herself. “Couldn’t afford a bigger horse-trough…?”

“Hey,” a voice said quietly. Ruto looked behind her. It was Zelda.

“Oh. What do you want?” said Ruto. Then she noticed streaks of wetness lining the princess’ face. “What?” Ruto sat up. “What happened?”

“You really like him, don’t you?” said Zelda.

“What? Who, Link?” said Ruto shifting in the water again. “No, not really…we just had this…it wasn’t even…”

“I saw what you were going to give him,” said Zelda. She held out the box with the seaweed wrapping peeled away.

“Hey! That’s not yours!” Ruto snatched the box away from Zelda, cradling it in her hands. Her cheeks turned deep blue. “Go away!”

Zelda didn’t move. “It’s okay,” she said, shrugging. “I like him too. At least I thought I did.”

For a moment Ruto said nothing. She turned away from Zelda. “Yeah, well what do you know?”

Zelda balled up her hand and let it bob against her thigh absent mindedly. “You know, I thought your pie wasn’t that bad…” she said.

Ruto didn’t turn around. “Nice try. You think you can just say you like it after the stink you put up?”

“Well, I’m not used to fish pie…and it was kinda salty, but for a salty pie it was good…”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” said Zelda reassuringly.

Ruto shifted back toward Zelda, appeased. “Yeah, well yours wasn’t that bad either,” she said. “A little too sweet, though.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said, letting herself chuckle a little. She bent over and picked up a bucket near her feet. Turning it over, she sat down next to the horse-trough. “So… I heard Lutai talking about a Zora she liked once. She said he gave her one of his scales. It was all golden, and she kept it for a long time but then he was lost out at sea and Lutai never saw him again… Does giving someone a scale mean you really like them?”

Ruto bowed her head. “It means you want to be with them forever. That’s the real Zora way of doing things. We don’t have weddings like you do with ceremonies and decorations and things. Zoras just find a special place—somewhere important like a cove or an underwater cave—and they give each other one of their scales. And then they wear it where they took their scale from.” Ruto looked at the box forlornly. “It’s stupid, really. I guess Link doesn’t have any scales to give me…” Ruto’s face scrunched up and she choked on her words. “…and he could never wear mine…” Then Ruto bent forward and pressed her face into the water, shaking her head.

Zelda reached into the horse-trough and patted Ruto’s wet shoulder unabashedly. Ruto’s head shot back out of the water.

Zelda was doused. “What happened?! Are you okay?” she said tolerantly, parting her dripping hair from over her face.

Ruto looked like she was going to be sick. “No,” she shook her head. “This water tastes terrible.”

Zelda snickered but tried to conceal it unsuccessfully.

A smile opened up on Ruto’s face and she laughed. She leaned back in the horse-trough casually. “Seriously, can you believe us? All this trouble for a boy? Boys are dumb,” she said.

“I know!” Zelda finally let out a full laugh.

* * *

Link could hear hoof beats gaining on him. He urged Epona forward. The gate to the ranch was just ahead; the first to ring the bell would win, and winning meant Link could keep Epona. He had been through so much with her; he had to win—if he didn’t it would be like saying he didn’t want her enough. “C’mon, girl,” he said, digging his heels into her sides one last time. “Let’s win this—yah!”

Epona surged forward with a new burst of speed; Link drank in the accompanying rush of wind. The closest he had ever come to flying was when Kaepora Gaebora, a giant owl, had given him a ride down the side of Death Mountain, but riding Epona like this was a unique exception. He felt as if he could close his eyes and he and Epona would just lift up into the air…

Clang! Link’s eyes shot open. They couldn’t have passed the archway that quickly, thought Link. His heart sank as the bell’s toll hung in the air. There was the bell, swinging on its loop, the rope dangling from the hammer… Link cursed himself for losing focus. He pounded his fist into his leg. They had lost! They slowed to a stop when they cleared the arch…but where was Malon?

Then Link heard hoof beats and from within the ranch came Malon on Hossel, a brown stallion. In her hand was a bow. Link’s eyes darted around and in less than a flick of Epona’s tail he had spotted it: there on the ground, near the post of the entrance arch, was the ‘hammer’ that had struck the winning bell—one of Malon’s homemade arrows. Link watched as Malon trotted up to him nonchalantly. She wore a look of guilty pleasure.

“You little cheat!” said Link. “You really had me going there for a second! I thought I’d lost.”

Malon’s face became defensive. “What do you mean ‘thought you’d lost’? I reckon I rang the bell firs’ didn’t I?” Her ginger loops tossed as she shook her head saucily. “I guess you didn’t understand the rules, mister.”

Link twisted the reins in his hands. “Didn’t…what rules? You said ‘win,’ and that’s what I did. Isn’t that right, Epona?” Epona nickered and tossed her mane. “See? Even Epona thinks so. Fair and square.” Link folded his arms.

Malon looked like she might protest but a smile crept its way into her cheeks and she relented. “Oh, alright, Happy Birthday…” She stuck her fist in Link’s shoulder, grinning with half of her face. Link noticed she had pronounced dimples. He thought it was strange…he had never noticed them before. His chest buzzed and he thought for a moment he was flying again…

But the buzzing continued and Link realized that it was actually the Gossip Stone pendant the king had given him. “Oh, shoot,” he said, pulling the stone out from beneath his tunic. “Sorry, Malon, just a second.” When he touched the grey stone Link felt a presence enter his mind and he heard a man’s voice in his head.

Link, are you there? it said.

Yes, I’m Link. I mean I’m here, Link thought. Having Malon around was certainly befuddling.

Good. This is the king. We will be ready for you shortly. Are you at leisure to join us?

Sure, thought Link. He had just won Epona and Malon had dimples; at that moment Link thought he could do anything.

How’s that, Link? You say you can do anything?

Oh, shoot! Link thought. Sorry, your Majesty. Just thinking out loud, I guess. I’ll be there soon.

Very good. The knights will meet you outside of the Temple; they will lead you from there. Be sure to enter by the eastern gate. We’ll be expecting you soon. The presence left Link’s mind.

“What is it?” asked Malon. “Do you have to go?”

“Yeah,” said Link, rolling his eyes. “I have to make an appearance, I guess.”

“It’s okay, fairy boy,” said Malon. “Poppa an’ I’ll be right there in the crowd; you just do what you gotta do.”

Link had nearly forgotten Malon’s nickname for him. It felt like centuries ago that he had first met Malon wandering around Castle Town. She had spotted Navi hovering around his head and knew he must have come from the forest. Hearing her call him ‘fairy boy’ just now was like hearing his real name long after he had forgotten it.

“You’re coming? That’s great! We could…” Link tried frantically to think of an excuse for Malon to stay in Castle Town after the tournament. Then he remembered that he and Afton were going to see Tobias and he thought of the Stained Hall. “Why don’t you meet me at the Temple when we’re done! I could show you…something...”

Malon eyed Link skeptically. “Like what…?”

Link remembered Afton’s mysteriousness about his birthday celebration. “It’s a surprise!” he said.

“Oh! I like surprises!” said Malon. Link’s eyes fell on her dimples again.

“Okay…” he smiled.

Malon waited for Link to say something else. When he didn’t, she said “Don’t you need ta git goin’ now?”

“Oh, yeah. Okay. I’ll just…” Link motioned vaguely in the direction of Hyrule Castle.

“Yeah, you git an’ I’ll tell Poppa ta hitch up a wagon so we can all see you out on your big day. We’ll be there.”

Link patted Epona nervously. He felt like he should say something but try as he might his mind was like molasses; stuck on Malon’s face, the ginger loops of her hair, her freckles… “Okay, so I’ll just go now, bye.” He blurted, waving pitifully. He edged Epona away from the ranch. “Thanks, by the way. For Epona. She’s great…” and finally the blood rushing to his face made him turn away. He kicked his heels into Epona’s sides and squeezed close to her, bolting off as fast as he could. “Yah, girl!” he called, closer than he had ever been to flying.

* * *

“…so then he rubs his eyes, right—because the sun was so bright—and when he puts his hands down I’m right there in front of him—‘cause we’re both on this tree trunk over the reservoir—and he just locks up like a clam and falls over into the water!” Ruto shook her head. “Never seen anything so stupid.”

Zelda laughed hysterically. “No! That’s so funny. It’s like when I saw him for the first time; he looked so goofy wearing his silly green hat. He wears that thing everywhere; I wonder if he’s ever washed it…”

“Well, we know he washed it at least once…” said Ruto.

Zelda tilted her head. “Oh, yeah? When?”

“When he fell into the reservoir; hello!” Ruto and Zelda laughed. Ruto put a fresh wet towel over her legs. The pair of princesses were sitting in the bed of the wagon while Talon and Afton finished hitching up a pair of quarter horses. Ruto had several wet towels covering her body which she had been refreshing regularly from a large bucket of water inside the wagon. Saria was on the back of one of the quarter horses, pretending she was snapping invisible reins.

Malon trotted up on Hossel. She had stowed her bow beside her on the saddle. “What did I miss?” she asked. Zelda and Ruto looked at each other and s******ed. “What’s funny?” said Malon.

“Oh,” said Zelda. “Just telling stories about Link. Ruto was just telling me about when he proposed to her…”

Malon’s face went straight. “You mean he really did…you and Link are really engaged?”

Ruto removed the wet cloth from her head. “Guess so,” she said shrugging.

“Cheater,” said Saria, turning around to glare at Ruto.

Ruto ignored Saria and turned back to Zelda. “So there we were in the reservoir, right, and he was sputtering up water and his hair was all stuck to his face, right—completely stupid-looking…”

“Link ain’t stupid-looking!” snapped Malon.

Ruto rolled her eyes and continued. “And then I told Link that I would only give the Zora’s Sapphire to the man I would marry. So he asked if I would give it to him. And that’s how we got engaged,” she concluded.

Malon looked like she was going to be sick. “Need any help hitchin’ up the boys, Poppa?” she said, throwing her leg over Hossel’s flanks and dismounting.

Talon looked over to Afton. Afton shrugged, strapping a spur to the heel of his boot. He had already donned his chain shirt and arming cap. “Not really, darlin’; jes’ finished up,” said Talon. “Mister Afton saw it was getting’ late on an’ we figgered we’d git goin’ and pick you up on the way out.” He rested the reins over the footboard of the driver’s seat. “You comin’ with? Mister Afton’ll be headin’ out on his own and I’d be mighty glad of your comp’ny.” Talon widened his eyes as if to say he would rather not be left alone with the pair of princesses. “Or is it you wanna take Hossel an’ stick around awhile in town?”

Malon blushed. “Poppa…”

“Yeah, Malon, maybe you just want Link all to yourself?” said Ruto.

“Yeah, maybe you want to steal Ruto’s man, huh, Malon?” Zelda chimed.

Malon looked like she was trying to swallow a live worm and faring horribly. She looked from Ruto to Zelda and back waiting for one of them to take back what they had said. Her eyes filled with wetness and soon her face felt as if it would burn off her head.

“You alright, darlin’?” said Talon.

Malon opened her mouth and screamed. Talon jumped and Afton started, his spur clinking sharply. Saria clapped her hands to her ears. Malon glared into the wagon, balling up her fists, her body shaking. “What’s wrong with you?” Malon yelled, stamping one foot into the hard-packed dirt. Zelda and Ruto were taken aback. They looked at each other soberly, as if for the first time. “Zelly, why are you being so mean? You’re my friend! Leastways you was supposed ta be. I thought you was teachin’ me how ta be proper so’s I could impress…” She drew her arm across her face, sobbing. When she regained her eyesight again she pointed her finger at Ruto. “And you!” she growled. “Zelly’s told me all about princesses and you ain’t no princess. Princesses is proper! They only say nice things about people an’ they don’t make asses o’ themselves when they don’t git what they want. You oughtta be shamed right proper! Both o’ you!”

For a moment, nothing moved. Then Malon stormed past the quarter horses and into the front door of the house, leaving a knight, a rancher, two princesses and a forest child in utter silence. One of the quarter horses nickered.

Afton jerked a thumb toward the door. “Talon, should I…?” he began, but Talon held up his hand. The next moment Malon came back out of the house with a quiver of arrows over one shoulder and a cloth bundle in her arms with a knot tied in it. She threw the bundle over her head, resting the knot on her shoulder with the bulk of the bundle at her side. Then she climbed into Hossel’s saddle and turned the horse around.

“Mal,” said Talon, unmoving.

“Poppa, don’t say no. Don’t you dare say…”

“Be safe, darlin’,” said Talon. “Come home soon.”

Malon looked at her father, wetness welling in her eyes. At first it looked like she might say something but then she looked at the two princesses in the wagon and she scowled instead. Ruto looked down at her bucket of water. Zelda seemed to have come to her senses. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak Malon kicked her heels into Hossel’s sides.

“Yah!” Malon called. Hossel reared and bolted away. In a moment Malon was passing under the entrance arch, the bell clanging angrily as she swung the rope. Talon’s eyes were on the ground. Afton looked at the rancher, visibly concerned.

“She’ll come around,” said Talon, brushing his finger under his nose.

“Talon, I…” Afton began.

“You’d better git if you plan on bein’ in the show, son. We’d better git, too; we’re gonna be late as is…” He climbed into the driver’s seat. Saria patted the quarter horse on the neck and jumped down. When she was settled into the seat next to Talon he snapped the reins. “C’mon, boys, take us ta town.” The horses pushed against the ground, moving the wagon forward. “See you there Afton?”

“I’ll be there,” the knight replied. He waved as the wagon passed. Only Saria waved back.

* * *

The Mask Keeper replaced the winged mask in his pack and slung it on his back again. Always keeping his eyes on his destination, he passed under the circular arcade and entered the mysterious new archway cautiously. Beyond was a short hallway inclining up to a solid stone wall; a dead end. Like the rest of the stone grotto, the stone of the short hall had been worked perhaps less than a hundred years ago. Unlike the grotto, however, the hall was clear of vines and had shown some use; there were a pair of black-wicked candles mounted on the walls. The wicks were cold; the candles may not have been used much, but they had certainly been used.

When the Mask Salesman inspected further he discovered a fine marble dust on the floor where it met the wall. This was not a hallway to nowhere, thought the Mask Keeper, it was a secret passage into the mysterious building, whatever it was. Looking around quickly for any kind of trigger he could find, the Mask Keeper did the first thing that occurred to him. Gripping one of the candelabra by the mount, he turned it until the candles were pointed perpendicular to their original position and stepped back.

Nothing happened.

But the Mask Salesman would not be daunted. He searched for anything else that might open the door, but after minutes of searching he could think of nothing. There was nothing else. Then he remembered the inscription.

He hurried back to the raised platform in the center of the arcade. Life and death their paths do dance… Life and death dancing; what could that mean? Through time and space we pass in trance… He had certainly passed through space, but he was unsure how being in a trance could open the door he knew was hidden at the end of that hallway. He kept reading. But death to life sets Gods at bay… Death to life? Reincarnation? That was the typical lore for the afterlife in Hyrule; it might certainly keep time at bay, but how could being reincarnated help him now?

The fourth line spoke of time’s river. And river Time complete doth stay. He looked up, turning this over in his mind. “I know it has something to do with this, I know it,” he said aloud. His eyes fell on the circular arcade. Then he noticed something he had not before; there was a great deal of condensation on the columns. Something occurred to him. “Rivers flow to the sea,” he said aloud. “Where water rises to the sky and rains down again, completing the circle…a circle…” He rushed to the hallway again. How could he be so dense? The candelabrum had moved, hadn’t it?

The Mask Keeper gripped the candelabrum again and continued to turn it until the candles had gone full-circle and they were pointing up again. “Nature’s ring complete doth stay,” he said aloud. A series of musical notes sounded from somewhere and then he heard a click and the twang of a thick metal wire from behind the candelabrum. The wall beside him grumbled as it split in two, each half separating from the other, opening the way into the temple. Seizing the opportunity, the Mask Keeper threw in his bag of masks and then stepped through himself. The wall grumbled closed behind him.

Chapter VI
The CAPTAIN’S NEW OUTFIT or “Knights to Remember”

Talon heard Geoffrey’s hoofbeats coming half a minute before Afton sped past the wagon. The knight raised his hand in passing salute and then he was over the next ridge, lost behind the tall grass. The cloud of dust drifted away from the road, revealing the sight of Hyrule Castle again, still some distance ahead in the north. The birds were singing from atop the high trees, but other than this and the breeze whistling through the tallgrass, the only other sound was the squeaking of one wobbly wagon wheel.

“I’ll need ta git this wagon fixed up right nice again soon,” said Talon. Saria listened intently. Ruto and Zelda were in the back of the wagon, lost in their own thoughts. “It’s seen quite a bit; I’ve had this here wagon ever since my Pappy gave it ta me back when I started seein’ Mally’s momma. She was a sweet thing. Daphne was her name. We’d go t’the lake down south, see, and we’d have such a picnic as you ain’t never seen. I kep’ it real good an’ fixed up most times—the wagon, that is—but lately I ain’t thought about it. Got a bum wheel right here in front, see.” Saria looked around the edge of the wagon; sure enough there was the left wheel, wobbling a little every turn or so.

“Fix,” said Saria.

“Oh, no, youngin’ I cain’t fix it just now, we got a little function ta git to, you know that.”

Saria’s face brightened. She nestled back into her seat. After a moment or two of watching the road she patted the rancher’s arm.

“What is it, youngin’?” said Talon.

“Daphne,” she said.

“You wanna hear more ‘bout Mal’s momma? Oh, well, she was a right mix o’ everything beautiful in the world, she was. She was a real lively one, though, red hair an’ all. That’s where Mal gits it, see.” Saria nodded emphatically. “I ‘member she’d come over an’ we’d watch the horses t’gether and she’d sing to ‘em. Her voice was right purdy. Mal gits that from her momma too, see.” Talon sniffed, staring off at nothing. “It was a freak sandstorm, what took her… Not straightaway, o’ course, but we was ridin’ past the mountains over yonder an’ the wagon tipped over, see. Daphne hit her head. She never really got better from it…” Then Talon’s focus seemed to return from wherever it had gone. He smiled curtly. “That’s why I’m so glad ta have Malon. Helps me r’member Daphne seein’ as how they was so much alike.” After a moment Talon sniffed again.

In the back of the wagon Zelda sniffed as well. Link had told her once that she reminded him of her mother. It was the kindest thing she had ever heard anyone say about her, and it came just as she had to deal with her mother’s passing. When she noticed Ruto staring at her bucket of water Zelda leaned forward. “Ruto? Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“My aunt Lutai…” she said, sighing. “They were part of the same clutch, you know; my aunt and my mom. I look at Auntie and think she’s my mom, sometimes. I wish she were here.” Zelda got up from her bench and sat next to Ruto. She put her hand on Ruto’s arm.

“I miss my mom, too,” said Zelda. “Did…did your mom die?”

Ruto nodded her head. “Dad told me what Ganondorf did. How your mom…you know…after what happened. Auntie told me about how Ganondorf did the same thing to my mom. It was a long time ago, right, but Auntie never talked about it. When I found out I went to Lake Hylia for two whole days. I had to be alone…think about her. Dad was worried sick. But now it’s okay—now that I know what happened…to Mom, I mean.”

Zelda had never thought about how far Ganondorf’s evil had spread. Until now she had never considered just how other people had suffered by his hand. “What happened?” she asked quietly. “To your mom, I mean…”

Ruto removed the towel from her head and took in a deep breath. “Auntie said she and my mom were out at the Water Temple one day—the one under Lake Hylia, right? Well, Ganondorf found Mom and started asking about the Zora’s Sapphire. And she said she didn’t have it but the ‘queen’ did, right, trying to throw him off. But then Lutai came out of the temple too and he got his thieves to catch them both. Then Ganondorf says Auntie has to give the stone up or else, ‘cause he thinks Auntie is the queen… So mom tells that rotten man that she was really the queen the whole time but she wouldn’t ever give up the Sapphire. And that’s when his thieves…” Ruto sniffed, fiddling with her webbed hands. She shrugged. “Ganondorf made Auntie promise not to say anything or he’d come back and get me, too. Mom died real soon after that. So Mom saved Auntie by telling Ganondorf the truth. And Auntie protected me by not saying anything for so long.” Ruto stared into her bucket again. “Once Auntie figured keeping it a secret didn’t matter anymore she told me what happened.” She placed one webbed hand on Zelda’s hand. “I sure am sorry about your mom, though. Maybe if Auntie had said something earlier…”

Zelda smiled with half her mouth. “Thanks, Ruto,” she said, “but it wouldn’t have stopped him. And what if Ganondorf had made good on his threat and done something horrible to you?” Zelda stared into the bucket too. It suddenly felt as if her worry had been transferred to the container, mixing with Ruto’s until they became the same, somehow. “No, my mother was protecting me, like Lutai was protecting you. Someone had to stand up to Ganondorf. At least we can say it was our mothers who did. I’m sorry yours is gone, too.”

“Yeah,” said Ruto. “I miss her.” For awhile Zelda and Ruto sat in silence, listening to the creaky wheel of the wagon and the chirping of the birds and staring into the bucket full of their shared sorrow. “Do you wanna know something?” asked Ruto finally.

“Hm?”

“My mother really did have the Stone, but she gave it to me that morning. I didn’t know what it was for so she told me that it was an heirloom; that since I was the princess I got to give more than just a scale to the boy I liked. She told me never to give it to anyone except the man I wanted to marry. But it wasn’t really an heirloom, was it? Not really. Mom just wanted me to take real good care of it and she didn’t want me to know what it really was… I think she knew Ganondorf was after it…

“That night Auntie said I would start attending Jabun, the Great Fish and I was never to go beyond the waterfall anymore.” Ruto was quiet again for a time. “I guess I knew Link didn’t really want to marry me. I just really liked him. I had been kept up at the top of the waterfall for so long, and he was so heroic-looking and kept trying to save me…”

“Yeah, he’s good at that,” Zelda sighed. “I think I felt the same way; locked up, that is. I was only ever allowed around the castle and I had to have Impa with me everywhere I went. Link was so nice and brave… Did I ever tell you I had a dream about him?” Ruto’s eyes widened. “Yeah, pretty stupid, right?”

Ruto shook her head. “Dreams aren’t stupid. It’s not following them that’s stupid.”

Zelda smiled in spite of herself. “Hey, Ruto?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we friends?”

“I think so.”

“Good,” said Zelda. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to, sometimes.” She reached out for Ruto’s hand and their heads met. And Zelda didn’t have one thought for how squishy the other princess was.

It was less than a minute later that Zelda realized the birds were no longer chirping…

* * *

Link guided Epona through the cross-streets and alley-ways of Castle Town. Finally, he reached the street that led from the Temple of Time to the eastern gate of the town’s central courtyard. There he found six knights awaiting him. There was also a boy his age dressed in a simplified version of the knights’ garb.

“Captain,” said one of the knights. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Good,” said Link, dismounting. “How’s this going to work?”

“Can I take your horse, sir?” said the young boy reaching out for Epona’s reins.

Link recoiled, holding the reins tightly to his chest. “Why?”

The boy looked startled. He bowed. “I’m just the page, sir. Trying to do my duty is all. Your horse don’t have to go to the stables; she can stay with you if you want…”

Link had just barely gotten used to the idea of having Epona for himself; he didn’t want to let her out of his sight. All the same he couldn’t very well take her up to be knighted with him. “Okay, well…you can take my horse, but not to the stables. I want you to take her to the Courtyard so she can see the festival.” He handed Epona’s reins to the page. “Her name is Epona.” Link looked at the page closer. Link couldn’t have said why but he seemed to have an air of adventure about him. “And you can ride her if you want,” said Link.

The boy’s green eyes widened. “Oh, really, sir?”

“Will you take good care of her?”

“Oh, yes sir, I will. I will!” The page smiled revealing a pair of particularly large front teeth. Link thought he looked only a little like a rabbit.

“Very good,” said Link, feeling like the king of Hyrule to make someone so happy with such a small gesture. “What’s your name?”

“Bryon, sir!”

“Then on your way, Bryon. I’ll expect you to report back to me with Epona after the ceremony.”

“Yes, sir!” said Bryon, and he mounted Epona. “You can count on me!” He saluted. Link returned the salute smartly, smiling as Bryon and Epona trotted away.

Having grown up among the Koroki—where everything was a matter of serious play—Link knew how to pretend to be something he wasn’t, especially when it meant everyone else could have fun playing along. Just now, Link was enjoying this chance to try on his adult-ness again as a captain.

“Is the captain ready then, sir?” said one of the knights.

Link turned. “Yes, thank you. Now I’ll need to know all of your names, too.” Link took in the sight of the six knights. They wore chain-mail shirts and tough leather boots with spurs on both heels. From their shoulders hung long tunics of white with red birds emblazoned on them. Each bird had a Triforce symbol instead of a head, representing the three Goddesses. Around their waists were cinched wide belts of leather from which hung long rapiers like the one Link had seen Afton use. Finally, on each of their backs was a Hylian shield after the modern style. From what Link could tell they were all well cared for.

As he could not distinguish any of the knights apart, Link addressed the knight closest to him. “What is your name, sir?”

“My name is Franklin, sir,” said the knight. “And you don’t have to call us ‘sir;’ you can just call us by name. Sir.” Franklin seemed to be a little older than Afton. Now that Link looked closer he saw that Franklin had thick sideburns and a long straight nose.

“Thank you, Franklin. It’s a pleasure serving Hyrule with you.”

“And you, sir,” said Franklin, nodding once.

The next knight was clean-shaven with ears that stuck out from his head a little. “And you, what is your name, s…son?” Link realized that he must have sounded ridiculous calling this knight ‘son’ but he could think of no other way to avoid saying ‘sir’ again. The knights, in any case, did not let on that they had noticed.

“Hinton, sir.” The knight simply stood still with his hands behind his back. Almost immediately Link wanted to move on. He could not think of anything to say after calling Hinton ‘son.’

“And you?” Link said to the next knight.

“Hansen, sir; a pleasure.” Hansen reached forward and offered his hand. Link gripped it confidently. Judging from his handshake Link could tell that Hansen could have crushed his hand, but did not. He also seemed quite excited at the attention Link was giving him, passing though it was.

“Thank you, Hansen. Good to have you.” Link resisted the impulse to flex his hand until he had it behind his back.

The next knight did not appear big so much as dense. His sideburns poofed from his cheeks and connected over his lip in a thick brownish-red mustache. “Name’s Duncan, sir,” said the knight in a thick accent. He bowed. Link could not place where the accent was from but noticed that the man had round ears, unlike the pointed ears common to the people of Hylia.

“Duncan, where are you from?” said Link, curious.

“Koholint, Captain; a far-off island of the sea. My father and I came t’Hyrule after our ship was wrecked and we’ve lived here ever since.”

Link remembered Afton saying something about going across the sea on one of his missions. He wondered if he had ever been to Koholint. “I’ll have to hear about your homeland sometime, Duncan.”

“I’ll look forward to it, sir.” Link noticed a certain quality in Duncan’s manner; like the adventuresome air he noticed around Bryon. He made a note to speak to Duncan as soon as he had the chance.

Then Link turned to the final two knights. If there were few differences between any of the knights before, now he was seeing double; these knights were identical in every way. Both had green eyes and red hair and had the attitude of parrots for attentiveness. Their heads were tilted just marginally to one side; one to the left, the other to the right. If Link had had less sense he might have laughed, the sight was so comical.

“Grin,” “and Gron,” they said. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Link’s sense of manners strained against its limits. He almost had to laugh.

“It’s…it’s very nice to meet you. Both of you,” he added, smiling and nodding his head. He wasn’t sure what it took to become a knight, but Link was almost sure that these two had barely passed. “Shall we then?” said Link.

“We are still a knight short, Captain,” said Gron. “The Lieutenant has not yet…” But just then the sound of hooves on stone echoed through the alleys and a horse and rider emerged. It was Geoffrey and Afton. Geoffrey’s hooves slid against the cobblestone as Afton pulled back hard on the reins. They stopped just feet from where Link stood.

“I apologize for my tardiness, Captain,” Afton said, dismounting. He clapped Geoffrey on his flank. “Get on!” he called. Geoffrey trotted away—to the stable, Link assumed. Afton saluted, fighting to control his heavy breathing.

Link nodded. “Apology accepted, Lieutenant. Don’t let it happen again.” He winked. Afton smiled wearily. Link waited until Afton had stood up straight again. “Are we all ready, then?”

“Aye, sir,” said Franklin. “Just lead us into the Courtyard and stand in the middle of the bottom stair of the North Gate. We’ll take it from there. What with recent events, the Tournament’s been canceled until next year so all that’s left is the ceremony.”

Link’s shoulders relaxed marginally; he wouldn’t have to fight all of Hyrule’s best swordsmen after all. But then, he was a little disappointed; it would have been a marvelous challenge. “Alright, then, gents, let’s give them something to see. Long formation!” he called instinctively. And as quickly as he had said it the knights were in two lines of three with Afton in the rear. Link was reminded of when he and his other three selves would make formations when they were fighting. He took up his place at the front of the line. Each of the knights drew their rapiers and held them under their chins.

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. As Link stepped in time with the others he felt it was a shame he had never had the chance to fight in the Hylian Tournament; he had been looking forward to it, even if he was a little daunted by the idea. Then Link remembered that he was marching with trained knights, well versed in the formations he had become accustomed to recently with his other selves. A thin smile curved up one of his cheeks; he had an idea.

“Be ready, men!” Link called over the clinking of spurs. “I think we’re going to give them more than a little something to see. Now, has anybody got a spare sword…?”

* * *

Anxiously, the crowds awaited the arrival of the captain and the knights who accompanied him. In the center of the courtyard was a grand fountain whose waters leaped up toward the cloudless sky. Perched in its center was the stylized figure of a large stone bird with three triangles in place of its head. The townspeople were busy about every second of festivity, some of them listening to the minstrels on one end of the courtyard, others haggling with the street vendors over the prices of souvenirs. Every shop door was wide open and the cafés were bustling, the waiters constantly running back and forth between the tables like industrious ants. Even the soldiers stationed at every gate grew restless with anticipation, tapping their spears on the ground as they awaited the ceremony’s starting signal.

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 Link, looking very serious and grown-up. The minstrels lowered their instruments, the hagglers quieted, and the crowds erupted as the knights and their leader marched around the courtyard, making a wide arc around the central fountain. The townspeople gave way before the procession, clearing a circular course for the knights to march in. Then, when the knights reached the eastern gate again the green-clad boy raised the rapier in his hand and immediately the knights stopped, their swords held stiffly beneath their chins. The effect hushed the crowd with a sense of expectancy. Every child, every mother, every man was quiet.

Then Link started shouting in rhythm. The knights took up the shout, marching in place with perfect synchronization. In another moment one of the minstrels with a drum—nobody cared who—took up the beat as well. “Double long!” shouted Link, and the next moment the knights were in two straight lines of four. “Revolve,” called Link in time, and the two lines interwove, the knights in one line passing first in front of, then behind, the knights of the other. Some in the crowd whooped; impressed at the feat. “Cross,” shouted Link, and the knights formed a large diamond, three knights to a side. “Harch!” cried Link, and the diamond began moving along its circular course around the fountain.

Other instruments joined the rogue drummer and soon the knights were accompanied by a troupe of minstrels all playing in time, adding layer after layer of music to the sight. The crowd cheered their approval. Shouts flew from the crowds; chants of encouragement and endorsement. Link smiled and turned in place, still marching with his men. Then he shouted something the crowd could not understand and the knights folded inward, forming two smaller diamonds connected by a single knight in the center. Link shouted another command and the double-diamond spun in place; still marching, still moving in perfect synchronization.

And how the masses cheered! Hollers from young and old positively leaped from the townspeople; the patrons in the café stood up and clapped, the vendors set down their wares and stomped their feet in time and the clients emerged from the shops to watch the spectacle of the new captain and his marching knights.

And then, at the height of the uproar, Link shouted a final command and all at once the knights broke apart into improvised melee; a form of organized chaos. One knight turned on another, thrusting his rapier; the other parried, swinging back at the first only to be deflected by a third knight. Thrust