Prologue
The legends speak of a hero—a young man clad in green that, whenever evil bares its fangs and rears up out of the darkness, would beat it back into the abyss.
The time is now ripe for a new hero to arise…
The lands of Hylia. The Great Sea. The Old Provinces. The Northern Domains. All a part of Hyrule Kingdom.
King Nohansen Daphne-Cole was a mighty King. The lands he ruled were vast and diverse, yet he was able to rule with justice and equity.
Yet there were those that wished for more power.
The Gerudo and various other beings wished for their own lands and their own queen. In secret they amassed their forces together, calling themselves the Gerudic Order. Thus the inhabitants of the eastern coast of Hyrule were thus combined into one great union, almost as large as the armies of Daphne-Cole. Without warning the Gerudic Order attacked the villages and outposts on the border of Hyrule Field, between the lands they wanted for themselves and the land belonging to the King. The buildings were burned to the ground; all adults were killed. Any riches the raiders could find were taken to be added to the army's treasury.
Only the children, now orphans, were spared. They were kept hostage in exchange for the Gerudic Order's secession.
A treaty was signed. The Gerudic Order became the leading force of a new country. The children were released and entrusted to the care of families elsewhere in Hyrule.
All was well for several years… but there are now whispers of darkness stirring again in the Gerudo Desert… of secret plots, of a name breathed to the wind—a name we have heard no tell of for hundreds of years.
The name of Ganondorf.
Link's eyes were as wide as saucers as Kattha finished her tale. She smiled at him. "Now, dear, don't be frightened. It's only a story."
The child's face was pale. "But parts of it are true—aren't they, Kattha?"
"There is truth to all tales, dear one. Aye, there was a brave young lad named Link who fought evil, and aye there have been villains called Ganondorf or the Demon King or some such over the centuries. But a great deal of their stories are just that—stories, without even the barest hint of good, solid fact. Ganondorf has been dead nigh five hundred years now, lad. We've no need to fear him."
"But what if he comes back? What if those stories are true?" Link asked shrilly, looking urgently into the elderly servant's age-worn face.
She smiled soothingly at him. "Have no fear. He can't come back. 'Tis impossible—complete balderdash. Stories are meant to teach us lessons about doing the right thing. They're not history. You'll understand when you're older. Now sleep."
Link huffed, his breath blowing back the hair hanging over his blue eyes. "So my namesake…"
"The great hero Link is perhaps something of an ideal. Across the course of our history we've had many brave lads named Link, whether it be a family name or a mother merely hoping to inspire courage in her son. I named you Link because I wanted you, despite your circumstances, to grow up as a good boy, and later become a good man."
Link bit his lip. Kattha knew what was coming next. "What do you think my… my real parents named me?"
"Can't say, dear one."
The boy didn't meet her gaze. "I… I wish," he began, but he didn't finish.
Kattha smiled gently. She knew that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't replace the boy's true parents, lost to members of the Gerudic Order in their revolution. He'd only been three years old…. Old enough to remember bits and pieces of his mother and father and perhaps even siblings, but nothing concise.
The poor dear… after the dissension he'd been passed on to a poor family that lacked the resources to care for him. They put him up for adoption; to his utter misfortune he'd been taken in by Artur Senza, a wealthy farm owner in the vast expanse of Hyrule Field.
"We're feeding him and boarding him," the man had said. "Thus he must work for us to pay those debts."
Truly, Link looked the part of a servant little more than a slave.
By day he wore a ratty wide-brimmed hat, too-big trousers, and an old burlap sack with holes cut into it. On his feet were poorly made leather sandals much too small for him— it was a miracle he still had them. At night he wore only his underwear and an ancient, loose-fitting cotton nightshirt that hung like a woman's dress on his slight body. His long golden hair was shaggy; his fair skin faintly freckled beneath his defiant blue eyes.
And that was where his resemblance to every other average servant ended. He was bold; his gaze was fierce and challenging, even as a small boy of eight. He had never once shown fear of any kind for as long as Kattha remembered.
But he was also kind and gentle. The animals he tended to all loved him, for he would spend time with each individually, making sure they were clean, well fed, and happy. Of course, when he was younger, he hadn't been able to tell the difference between doing his job and playing with the animals to make them happy. At the age of five he'd been caught playing in a muddy stye with the pigs. He'd been soundly thrashed for shirking his duties, though Kattha had protested fervently.
"He's but a child," she'd pleaded as Artur Senza raised a thick leather strap over Link's exposed back.
"He needs to learn a lesson," Senza snapped, bringing the strap down on Link's skin.
Kattha never forgot the five year old's cry of pain, nor the night spent holding him in her arms, trying to soothe him as he wept bitterly.
"Kattha?"
She looked down. Link was looking up at her, his blue eyes full of concern. "Ah. Sorry, dear lad, I was reminiscing."
"Remmi-what?"
"Reminiscing—it means thinking on the past. Here—I'll teach you to spell it…"
They bent down over the soft dirt floor of the barn and drew letters with their fingers. Kattha had learned how to read and write years ago; she wanted Link to do the same. In her eyes, literacy marked the difference between an actual person and a mindless beast—a moblin or bokoblin, for instance. She was little more than a slave, like Link, but because she was literate she didn't think of herself as one. By teaching Link to read and write, she hoped to instill within his heart the same thing.
Because he wouldn't be a servant forever, like she. He was something more. She could tell.
Nine Years Later
Link stood beside the gravestone, an empty, aching pain in his soul. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with the gentle rain falling all around him, soaking his ragged clothes. Thunder sounded in the distance as he forced his chin not to tremble.
The sun had been hot that day, and there had been too many weeds for Link alone to pull up from the fields. So Kattha, now in her seventies, had been sent from the house to help him. They had been working on opposite ends of the fields.
Around midday, when the sun had been burning its hottest, Link had brought a pail of water to Kattha, worried that she would be unable to make the gruelling walk from the well and back to the fields for a drink. He'd found her collapsed among the corn, not breathing, her heart still and her pulse nonexistent. At that moment Link's world had dissolved into pain, grief and tears… now here he was, standing alone on a hill in the rain, the only one who knew Kattha enough to mourn for her death.
There was only one word on the gravestone, and that was her name: Kattha. There were no dates of birth and death; no epitaph. A spark of fury kindled briefly within him; she deserved more than this. With a lump in his throat, Link knelt down and drew a hammer and nail from his apron. As the overcast day wore on, he carved words to stand the wear of time: "Here rests Kattha, my dear friend, who showed great kindness to me, who became my mother after I lost mine."
The lump in his throat seemed to expand. "Mother," he whispered huskily. In her life he'd never used the word. Now he wished he had, with all of his heart.
Night was falling when he made his way back down the muddy hill. A crisp wind blew, chilling him in his damp clothes as he waded through a sea of tall corn stalks glistening with dew. In the distance was the farmhouse, with its white-painted walls and glass-paned windows glowing from within, lit by warm fires and candles. Link tilted his head, imagining a warm bed soft beneath his back, dreaming of a rich meal of roasted pork and freshly made bread with honey.
But that wasn't his fate for the night. The stables stood apart from the farmhouse, old and weathered, smelling of animals and dung. Link slept there, on a bale of scratchy hay, with nothing but an old, threadbare blanket to keep himself warm. Tonight, cold, shivering, and alone, it felt even more dismal than usual. With a bowed head he slid open the heavy wooden doors and entered the lamp-lit building.
Mr. Senza was waiting for him. "Ye've neglected yer work t'day, boy."
"I was grieving," Link said, trying to hide the tremors in his voice and failing miserably.
"None of the animals have been fed or watered. Their pens are filthy. The fields've not been weeded, either."
"Would it have hurt you to do it yourself for one day?" Link challenged, resentment entering his heart like a bitter taste. "I'm the reason your crops grow and your animals obey you. Can't you do me a favor for once?"
"You owe me, boy, for every meal, for the clothes on yer back, for a place to lay yer head at night. Ye're working for me until that debt's paid off."
The resentment burned fiercer. "You legally adopted me. You're supposed to be taking care of me!"
"Ye'll do as I say," Senza threatened, "or ye'll be punished. That includes doing work when I tell yeh, even when yeh don't feel like it." He paused and regarded the young man before him with thoughtful eyes. "Yeh want to leave; I see it in yer eyes. What would yeh do if yeh did leave, eh? All that yeh have belongs ter me. If yeh left, what could yeh do? Well, I'll tell yeh—ye'd die."
"I'd find work and live on the streets 'til I saved enough for a room at an inn," Link defended, his jaw set.
"Yer clothin' belongs to me. What if I took it, eh? Who'd hire yeh then?"
"What do you want with a torn burlap sack, anyway?" Link retorted. "You couldn't use it for anything. Besides, even if you took it, I could weave clothes out of grass and leaves."
Senza barked a laugh. "I'd like to see ye try, boy."
Link frowned. "I can do it," he responded stubbornly.
Senza shook his head. "Fine. Let's say yeh did. Yeh'd still have to walk a few miles on foot with naught but grass ter protect ye from the night beasts—keese and wolfos, perhaps a hinox or two. And let's not forget deku scrubs an' octoroks an' deku-baba plants. D'yeh want to be eaten whole?"
Link's jaw clenched in defiance for several moments as he glared at his master. Then his shoulders slumped and he looked down, defeated.
Senza continued smugly, "Now, about yer punishment for not doing yer work today… a few lashes outta do. And then I'll have to find someone to replace that old hag, what's her name…"
"Her name's Kattha!" Link roared, unable to contain himself any longer. "You know what, I'll do her work starting tomorrow so that I can pay off my 'debt' sooner and start earning actual money."
Senza's smirk vanished. He could hardly deny the legitimacy of the boy's proposition. On the one hand, he wouldn't have to hire someone else, someone without experience. While Link was considerably hotheaded, there was no denying that the quality of his work was superb and almost always flawless. On the other hand, with the boy doing extra work, his debt would have to be considered null and void after a while. And then he'd have to pay the boy, who would eventually leave.
Then again… a minimum wage of twenty rupees a day wouldn't get him anywhere fast. It would be at least two years before he could afford to support himself; perhaps more. And in that time Senza would only get richer. He licked his lips eagerly. "Fine. Now turn yer back."
Link inhaled and undid his apron, hanging it on a hook. Then he pulled off his ragged burlap shirt, approached the wall, and wrapped his fingers around the two iron rings in the barn wall, put in place for exactly this purpose. The thick leather strap snapped down on his back and his breath hissed out through his teeth. He gripped the iron rings tighter; again and again the leather cracked across his bare shoulders and back; Link's pride faltered and a sharp cry escaped his lips. After the fifth lash, his knees buckled and he nearly lost his grip on the rings. The beating continued until Link felt something hot dripping down his back.
"Son of a keese," Senza cursed. "Didn't mean to… ah, well. Clean up the strap, will yeh? Don't forget them new chores in the morning in addition to everythin' else. Five months; then I start paying yeh." He stalked out of the barn, slamming the door on the way out.
Stiffly Link sank to his knees, breathing heavily. This was his seventh beating; he never got used to the stinging, aching pain that rendered almost all movement exponentially more difficult. But this was the first time the lash had actually drawn blood. He could feel it running down his back in hot rivulets.
Groaning, he got to his feet and walked haltingly to the five horses kept in the barn. Each was watching him anxiously—especially a young russet mare named Epona. Link smiled painfully at them. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Sorry for forgetting you."
Dusk tossed her head; Shag, the oldest, gently nuzzled his chest. Link sat in the straw and the five horses knelt around him, knowing what would come next.
Despite the pain in his back he took down the brushes hanging on the wall and, one by one, gently and thoroughly groomed the horses until their coats were soft and clean. Then he left them and scrubbed the leather strap that had thrashed him with saddle soap until the bloodstains were gone. Finally, exhausted and sore, he returned to his pile of straw and lay on his stomach, falling asleep almost instantly.
By morning, the wound across his back had scabbed over, but most movement caused the skin to draw tight and almost break open again. Slowly, gingerly, he pulled his shirt over his head and fastened his apron around his waist. Then he began his new chores.
The sun rose and set. Link worked from dawn until dusk in the fields, in the barn, and now, in the farmhouse as well.
Senza's wife actually wasn't that bad. As he cleaned, she would slip him an occasional snack with a kind smile. She had auburn hair and kind brown eyes; she wore a plain white dress and a blue apron. She baked cakes and sold them, donating her earnings to various charities. This, of course, was why she never had time to clean the house herself, although at times Link arrived to find one of the rooms already spotlessly clean, or the dishes done, or something similar.
Senza's daughter Calgatha was another matter. She was Link's age, but they had nothing else in common. She was spoiled rotten and loved tormenting him. Relentlessly she mocked him about his poor clothes and perpetual "stink of horse."
"Well, you try living in a barn and we'll see how you smell," Link retorted, his cheeks burning.
Calgatha complained to her father and Link was beaten.
Senza himself was rarely around the farmhouse. Most days he went to the nearby Kakariko Village, sitting in councils with the mayor. It sounded like the easiest and most well-paying job in Hyrule and it almost made Link nauseous to think that while he slaved under the hot sun, his master sat on his rear in a comfortable room, doing nothing of importance.
The air grew colder as autumn fully set in. Flowers began to shrivel and die; a thin layer of frost glittered upon the farm when morning came. For the past month, Link had harvested the pumpkins, corn, and wheat; then came what he thought of as Delivery Week—his one chance each year to go to Kakariko Village. There he was to sell most of the harvest, and the rest was stored away for the winter.
Link scrubbed his face and arms in a small pond near the barn; he cleaned his shirt, pants, and apron and tried to look halfway decent. Then he hitched Epona, groomed and shining and looking far more presentable than he did, to the cart, already loaded with as much of the produce as could fit. He hopped onto the edge of the cart and clicked his tongue, urging Epona into an easy trot.
"Ready for an adventure?" he asked her casually. She snorted in response. "Yeah, I know… it won't really be an adventure. But it's your first time away from the farm—surely that's something worth celebrating, right?"
She turned her head halfway to glance back at him for a bare second. Then she thrust her head forward, chomping on the bit.
In other words, she didn't think it was something exciting one bit. Because she knew she'd have to go back to the farm at the end of the day. Link understood the feeling so well, he'd be able to read it on anyone, whether or not they were Hylian or Sheikah or Gerudo or Goron or Zora or horse. Every day of his life, he was stuck at Senza's estate, unable to escape the monotonous working day in and day out.
"Maybe we'll escape together," Link said, noting how the mare's ears flicked back to acknowledge him. "I'll work until I've saved enough to buy you from him. Then we'll leave. How does that sound, Epona? We could go to Castle Town and see the jousting tournaments and horse racing. Or we could go to Gorko City and meet the Gorons. Maybe even Lake Floria, home of the legendary Farosh, Guardian Spirit of Farore herself. D'you think she still lives there?"
Epona tossed her head and snorted.
"I know they say that the dragons disappeared hundreds of years ago, but still—maybe they're just in hiding somewhere, waiting for the right time to come back. There's three of them, y'know, one to protect each part of the Triforce. Farosh protects Farore's piece; it represents life and courage. Then Naydra protect's Nayru's piece, the one that stands for love and wisdom. And finally there's the one guarded by the Dinraal, Din's piece—the one that frightens me the most. It represents power, Epona, and we both know that no one who ever had power used it for good. Like Senza, for instance."
He could tell that Epona wasn't interested in his words any longer; she wasn't responding to him and her ears faced the road ahead. Still Link continued to talk, reliving the myths and legends he'd grown up with. But gradually he fell silent; Kattha had been the one to tell him those tales, and her death continued to bring unchecked pain into his heart, even though a month had passed since she'd gone. Did the agony of such loss fade with time? He didn't know.
They trotted into Kakariko Village. Link nodded a friendly hello to the armored guards standing on either side of the gap in the fence surrounding the village, and as always they returned it, smiling openly. Link maneuvered his cart onto the crowded road cutting directly through the middle of the town, breathing in the acrid scent of a blacksmith's forge and the sweet aromas of irises emanating from a florist's colorful stall nearby. Lilting music played on lute, recorder, and timbrel sang through the streets, adding to the cheerful, lively ambience. Small children ran around, chasing each other and laughing merrily while others sat quietly and played with corn husk dolls under the shade of a tall beech tree standing off to one side of the road. Their parents, along with visitors from nearby farms, mulled in the streets, picking over the various wares for sales.
Beautiful pendants made of silver and gold hung from delicate chains on display; brightly colored tunics, dresses, and kimonos stood on carved wooden models under the cover of a patchwork tent set up on the roadside. Link continued down the street and the mouth-watering scent of fried cucco legs filled his nose(though for the life of him he couldn't fathom how anyone had managed to slay, let alone cook, the feisty chickens; they were fiercely loyal to one another and unbelievably aggressive). A haggard-looking man in a thick leather apron declared that his farming tools were of better quality than even those made by Gorons. And, of course, a nearby Goron took offense and the two began arguing furiously. Link felt a surge of pity for the blacksmith; Gorons were massive, sturdily-built rock-people that lived in volcanoes and ate stones for breakfast. He knew who would be the worse for wear after the squabble was over.
At last Link reached the stall rented by his master and hopped down from the cart, tethering Epona to the hitching post nearby. He arranged the produce he'd brought from the estate on shelves and tables within the small space before walking back outside into the glaring sunlight. Then he began declaring his wares just like the twenty or so other peddlers lining the street. "Get your pumpkins! Perfect for all kinds of soup and pie! Get your pumpkins, squash, and corn, right over here, fresh off of Senza's farm!"
By noon he'd sold half of what he'd brought. Pleased by the fruits of his labors, he took Epona back to where he'd seen the beech tree and they rested beneath it, munching on apples. The fruit had been a gift from Mrs. Senza, who had handed them to Link that morning before he'd gone out. He smiled, savoring the sweet taste so different from the bland bone soup he normally had for sustenance.
"Hi," a friendly voice said. Surprised, Link looked up to see a young girl around his age with a confident smile and fiery azure eyes. Her sunshine-colored hair hung in two braids down her back, and she was dressed in a dull red tunic and a pair of long brown trousers, both held in place by a broad leather belt. Dusty boots came up to her knees and a dull green cloak played around her ankles in the temperate breeze.
Link was speechless. She was nothing like the other girls he'd interacted with—namely, Kattha and Calgatha—in every possible way. "Oh—er, hi," he stammered when he recovered the use of his tongue.
"So do you live here?" the girl asked, smiling eagerly. Perhaps she was trying to be friendly; Link didn't really know, since no one had ever really been friendly to him before—at least, no one his age.
"K-kind of," he answered hesitantly. "Why do you want to know?"
She shrugged. "I'm just a bit of an adventurer, bent on seeing the world, and I'd greatly appreciate it if someone were to show me around."
"I only come here once a year," Link tried to explain, shifting closer to Epona, who was kneeling on the ground beside him. "And I really shouldn't go far—I need to watch over my wares, to make sure they aren't stolen."
"Then take them with us. I've walked a long way; you could take me in your cart over there. That is yours, isn't it?" Without waiting for an invitation, she headed back up the street and hopped into the back of Link's cart.
"Wait," Link tried, getting to his feet. Noticing his movement, Epona stood as well, looking at the girl with amusement on her long face. With a sigh, Link walked after the girl, hoping to convince her to get out of the cart.
"Come on," she invited, patting the space beside her and flashing an eager smile. "And what's your name, by the way?"
"I'm Link," he responded, feeling frustration take seed in his heart. The way she automatically assumed that he would bend to her will was infuriating. "And, look, I don't really know you; I don't know this town. If I'm back late, my… my master may be angry. He often comes to Kakariko himself, and if he sees me goofing off…"
"Then we'll be sneaky," the girl countered, rubbing her hands together eagerly. "I'm… er, Nicole, by the way. And we shouldn't take the cart if we're trying to be sneaky, so you'll have to leave your wares. I'll pay for any damage sustained—"
"And I'll still be punished," Link retorted. "I'm sorry, alright? I have my responsibilities to take care of."
"For Nayru's love, your master doesn't own you, does he? You can do whatever you want in this kingdom as long as it doesn't break the law, didn't you know? Do you really want to stay here and guard vegetables all day long?"
"Yes," Link growled. "Because he does own me, and I'm trying to earn my freedom. Got that? I want to stay on his good side."
Nicole looked suitably chagrined; the color drained from her cheeks and she stared at him in wide-eyed horror. "Oh. Oh. I'm sorry. I'm… so sorry, Link. I'll just… leave you alone, then." As if she had a fire lit beneath her, she jumped down from the cart and hurried away from him, disappearing into the crowd.
Link bit his lip. Maybe I was a bit harsh, he thought guiltily. As if she'd read his mind, Epona nipped at his hand as if in chastisement.
With a heart heavily laden with regret he returned to the shadows of his stall and continued calling out the pumpkins, zucchini, and butternut squash left to sell.
"Y'ask twenty rupees for that ragged bunch?" asked a true bear of a man, sneering at the corn.
Link wondered, none too kindly, if he was related in some way to a hinox. He shrugged coolly in response. "I don't find them 'ragged-looking' at all. I'll have you consider the fact that twenty rupees is minimum wage for a day's work, and it took a good deal longer than a single day to grow them. I'd say you're getting more than a fair deal."
"And I say they're complete garbage, and I ought to get them free. With a few pumpkins thrown in."
"I have to disagree. If you want these, pay up. A life of working hard hasn't made me any weaker and I'm prepared to use force if you insist on lowering the price to nothing. Now please, go on your way or pay the price I've set. It's your choice."
"I'll give you ten rupees."
"Twenty."
"Fifteen."
"Twenty."
The man growled. "Eighteen."
"What's two rupees more? Twenty."
It was then that Link noticed two other tall, muscular men approaching, cracking their knuckles. The first man looked at them, smiling. "I believe yer whole wagon is mine now."
"I have to disagree," Link responded, feeling his heartbeat quicken.
The three men attacked first, one of them punching him squarely in the jaw and splitting his lip. Link instantly retaliated, vaulting over the tabletop displaying his wares and punching two of the thugs in quick succession. He grabbed the third man by the ear and yanked him closer. "I suggest you leave now," he whispered threateningly. Then he slugged the man in the eye and shoved him away. For one moment the three of them glared at him with unbridled fury before fleeing like cowards.
With a heavy sigh, Link retreated behind the table and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Now that the skirmish was over, the pain in his jaw returned in full; he was grateful that it hadn't been dislocated.
A sudden swish of fabric, uncomfortably close, sounded in his sensitive Hylian ears. But when he spun around, there was no one there.
The sun began to go down as Link sold the last of the crops. He tossed the burlap sack containing the rupees he'd earned into the back of the cart; then he fastened the harness around Epona's chest and started heading back the way he'd come. As fiery orange evening light descended on the village, the busy crowds dissipated until only the craftsmen were left, packing up what was left of their wares and heading back to their homes. Link yawned, stretching his sore jaw and wincing slightly.
Suddenly the fading sunshine glinted off of something bright; turning towards the flash that hit his eyes, he caught a glimpse of the three burly men charging through an alley after a golden braid.
Nicole.
Link's instincts told him she was in trouble. He hid Epona and the cart inside of an empty stall and hurried into the alleyway.
"Stay away from me, you brutes!" A high-pitched, frightened voice. Nicole's voice. Link rounded a bend and saw her cornered against a brick wall, with the three men surrounding her.
"We ain't gonna hurt yeh," one of them growled. Link recognized him as the man who'd tried to haggle him into lowering his prices. The Haggler.
"Naw; we just want yer pretty li'l earrings," a second man chortled, the tallest of the three. White-faced and wide-eyed, Nicole looked terrified.
Link grit his teeth and stepped forward. "Hey! Leave her alone!" he demanded, narrowing his eyes and trying to dispel the uncertainty swimming in his stomach.
The three men turned around, and the shortest drew a knife. Uneasiness turned to fear, but Link forced himself not to waver. "Put that blade away," he ordered, trying to remain calm. "I'm pretty sure it's illegal to attack without a reason, and seeing as I'm not attacking you… It's not a very bright idea. But then, you three look about as intelligent as bokoblins anyway, so…"
"I'll admit, yeh got guts, kid," the Haggler growled. "I suppose we'll just have ta see them spilt, eh?"
"Leave him alone!" Nicole protested desperately. "M-my father will give you money—don't hurt me and he'll pay you, I promise—"
"Shut it," growled the tall one, slapping her mouth. At her startled cry Link stepped forward.
"Don't touch her," he snapped, his heart pounding.
The Haggler grinned. "Get 'im."
The man with the knife, the short one, raced forwards. Link braced himself and grabbed the hand with the knife, smacking Shorty's wrist as hard as he could. The knife dropped and Link dived for it, but one of the men grabbed him from behind, holding his burly arm against the boy's throat and squeezing hard. Link grimaced in discomfort and kicked backwards, digging his heel into the thug's shin and simultaneously thrusting his elbow between the man's ribs. The grip on his neck loosened and he ducked free, but Shorty had reclaimed his knife and together with the Haggler, they backed him into the corner. Link grit his teeth; he glanced to his right to see that Nicole was still being threatened by the third man, the tallest one.
She was still in danger.
Link grabbed for Shorty's knife, but the Haggler intercepted him, snatching his wrists and gripping them tightly while kneeing his groin. Link doubled over in pain, just as the knife whistled over his head and hit the wall instead. A massive fist smashed him to the cobblestone street below and he blacked out for a moment, his head throbbing wildly in pain. His vision cleared and he found himself pinned to the wall by Shorty while the Haggler drove his fists into his stomach, driving the breath from his lungs. The tallest man grinned crookedly, holding a fistful of Nicole's braids as he looked on.
Link couldn't breathe; his vision was swimming and he could feel his lunch rising up within him, ready to be expelled, when a sudden clatter of hoofbeats reached his long ears. Startled, the three thugs turned around just as several armored knights on massive white horses burst around the corner, bearing the crest of the Royal Family on their shields.
"Unhand the Princess," their captain demanded.
Link's bruised jaw dropped. Princess?!
"Yer honor!" the Haggler exclaimed as he fell to his knees, his face as white as bone. "Our apologies! We didn't know!" The other two thugs joined him in a kneeling position, letting Link fall to the ground. He, too, got to his knees, keeping his head bowed in submission. His thoughts raced, running over everything he'd said to Nicole—he'd been so rude! She could have him hanged!
"Are you safe, Princess Zelda?" the captain asked solemnly.
"Y-yes—thank you," Nicole responded, sounding shaken.
"Very well. Listen up, the four of you; consider yourselves fortunate that she is unharmed, otherwise you would be hanged in the morning."
There was a clatter of hoofbeats. When he was certain they were gone, Link got to his feet. He noticed the three thugs staring down the alleyway, their faces frozen in masks of awe. He saw his chance and sprinted away.
"Hey! Get back here!" the Haggler exclaimed.
Not on your life, Link thought, increasing his speed.