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A Link To The Past: Untold Stories

Betrayal

The King sat in his throne and longed for his Queen's soothing voice and touch. But she had passed into the spirit realm nearly two years ago, and could no longer offer him her wisdom or encouragement. Now all that could be heard was the pelting rain and the occasional clap of thunder from the storm outside. He dismissed the royal messenger and pondered the frightful news. Another girl had been kidnapped. The sixth, if he recalled correctly, to be silently taken from her home. The villagers, his subjects, were demanding results. Who had taken the girls, and for what purpose? He had explained to sobbing families that he was doing all he could to ensure their safe return, but nobody had the vaguest hint as to where they had been taken. He had sent troops to every corner of Hyrule; the Lost Woods, the Eastern Ruins, the desert, Death Mountain. No trace had been found.

A deep sigh escaped the King. He did not know what to do.

"Bring me wine," he called wearily to a steward. As the steward rushed from the throne room, another man strode in, past the guards, and knelt before his majesty. The man had a youthful appearance but had thick, mousy grey hair. He wore a long, thick trench coat of fine brown leather and matching gloves. He was the King's trusted adviser and good friend.

"Stand, my friend," said the King, waving his hand. "Surely such etiquette is not required between friends, and during such perilous times."

"Of course, your Highness." The man stood. His face was troubled.

"What news do you bring?"

"My word is grave. I have discovered a connection between the missing girls. I have gone through the royal records in your personal library and have discovered that all six missing girls are direct descendants of the Seven Wise Men."

The King's eyes widened at this revelation. That meant there was still one more descendant remaining.

"Zelda…" The King almost leapt from his golden chair as the realisation that his only daughter was in grave danger hit him.

"My Lord, your daughter is safe! I have placed her in the care of very capable soldiers. As soon as I discovered the Princess's life was at risk I took action. She is safe, in the dungeon."

Slowly, the King sat and became calm. The adviser continued.

"I believe that whoever has kidnapped the girls is attempting to break the seal to the Golden Land."

"Impossible!" cried the King, bringing his fist down hard onto the arm of his golden throne. "The Seven Wise Men cast a powerful spell over the seal! It cannot be broken!"

"With respect, your Highness, I believe an accomplished sorcerer could break the seal, if he has the blood of the original casters; the seven girls. Protection spells can weaken over time, and it has been nearly four hundred years since the Wise Men placed the spell over the gate to the Golden Land."

The King sat in a troubled silence and rested his chin on his palm.

"What do I do?"

"There is nothing you can do. Not until it is discovered who is responsible for the kidnappings."

"What about my daughter!" the King demanded. He had already lost his wife to sickness; he would not lose his only child to a madman.

"As long as your army stands loyally behind you, then Zelda is safe." The adviser bowed his head, partly out of respect, but also so the King could not see his slight smile.

"Thank you my friend. Thank you, Agahnim."

Agahnim raised his head, still smiling.

"It is a shame, then, that they are no longer loyal," the adviser said, his smile transforming into a wicked grin.

"What did you say?" The King frowned. What was Agahnim talking about? Who was not loyal?

"Your soldiers are not under your royal command. They belong to me now."

The King gasped as he understood. His trusted adviser and friend, Agahnim, was responsible for the kidnappings, these months of silent fear.

"You are a traitor!" cried the King in disbelief, wishing for it be a terrible mistake.

"It would appear so," Agahnim replied calmly.

"You leave me no choice. Guards! Seize him!" The King called to the four silver armoured soldiers by the door. The bodyguards, who had become increasingly nervous as Agahnim's sinister conversation had come to an end, already had their swords drawn.

Agahnim smiled, and muttered words that no other living being could understand. There was a huge roar of thunder accompanied by a bolt of lightning brighter than the sun itself. One of the guards began to cough violently, the others looked vaguely confused, but the coughing gradually died and the soldier regained his composure. The silver guards advanced on Agahnim with swords pointed threateningly.

Agahnim looked mildly annoyed as he was backed against the far wall. The spell had failed.

"Your personal bodyguards have strong minds, your Highness," the traitor called out eyeing the four swords. "I commend you on your choice of soldiers. It is a shame I am forced to kill such admirable men."

He drew his hands against his chest and muttered an incantation. An eruption of yellow energy threw the guards against the far wall as Agahnim thrust his palms forward. One of the men landed on his head with a sickening crack. He did not get up. The others were alive if dazed. The sorcerer used the time to speak an old and evil spell. Black smoke swirled down from his arms and formed the shape of two wicked and dark tinted blades in his heavy gloves.

Imbued with incredible magical speed Agahnim rushed forward towards the nearest guard who was still dazed by the spell. Screaming a fearful war-cry, the sorcerer ran the silver armoured man through the chest with his right blade then spun around the gasping body and slashed with his left blade, cleaving the guard's spine in two.

The two remaining guards, fearfully aware of their fallen brethren, quickly and cautiously approached Agahnim from either side in a pincer movement and began to circle him. Agahnim moved his swords around his body in a deliberate fashion, inviting the men to best him. Fuelled by fear and anger at their brothers' deaths, the guards leapt forward in attack.

The evil wizard easily parried the blows of both men. He began to laugh as the blades sought out his flesh but found nothing but black steel. Bringing his boot unexpectedly into the chest of one man and knocking him back, the traitor leapt to one side and nimbly rolled around the other. But before the guard could turn, Aganhim stood and thrust his swords into the man's back with such force he was lifted off the ground. The dying guard screamed as blood exploded from his chest, his armour as effective as canvas against the magical blades.

The last remaining guard screamed as he watched his fellow soldier fall lifeless to the ground with blood streaming from his mouth. The final silver soldier ran towards his enemy in a state of blind vengeance. Aganhim smiled, drew his hand back and threw. The black sword split the guard's head open. His hand still raised, the wizard threw a small purple missile at the dead man. The top half exploded in a sticky bloom of blood and bone. Aganhim turned to the king.

"Such a noble man you are, who sits idly by to watch as his own men are slaughtered," he taunted and strode towards the throne.

"You animal! I will make you pay for all your evil deeds, if it the last thing I do!" screamed the king in rage. He rose and drew his sword in fury, ready to attack. But instead his hand and sword slammed against back of his throne, an invisible force pushing him back. Magic flowed from the gloved hand of Aganhim and drove the King's body into the golden chair.

"No," the traitor refuted. "Nothing can stop me. Nothing can stop the complete ascension of my master."

"Master? There is one who commands you?" he gasped against the spell. The King was horrified at the revelation. That there could be one more powerful, more evil than this sorcerer was nothing short of terrifying. But Aganhim simply ignored the question and grinned.

"And the last thing you will do, your highness, is die."

The King screamed in agony as the black blade was thrust into his gut. The magical metal reached into every nerve of his being drawing the senses and life from the flesh, the royal blood fuelling the power of the blade's wielder.

Aganhim laughed as darkness fell across the King's face, and darkness fell across the land as the storm's reach spread from the castle to the farthest corners of the kingdom. Light vanished from the King's eyes, and his body was tossed to the floor as the sorcerer took up his place on the throne.

The steward returned and, unseeing of the bloodied corpse, handed a silver goblet to Aganhim.

Aganhim took the cup and drank deeply of the rich wine, then smiled.

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