Welcome back! Many thanks for making it this far! I'm actually not too satisfied with the way this chapter flows, especially the first section, but it's alright. Next chapter may have a bit more action...maybe :P
Read and review!
-Goldenrhino
"Hadrian."
"Lord Simar."
It was hard to imagine a two more contrasted men: one, a wealthy nobleman from the upper classes of society—the other, a low-life mercenary. The two met conspiratorially in a shadowed corner, talking in whispers. The alleyway was dark, permeated with the smell of raw sewage.
"Please don't call me a lord, Hadrian." Simar's voice was soft, but still filled with urgency. "I'm...I'm no longer one."
Hadrian was visibly surprised. "What do you mean by that?"
Simar unclasped his cloak, decorated with a distinctive red crest. "You don't know the risks I took in wearing that...but you wouldn't have recognized me otherwise." He sighed as he tied it into a tight bundle. "The governor made up some trumped-up cause to invalidate my claim to my adopted father's inheritance—after five years, no less! He's been locking down my business ventures here, and his agents will soon finish off my foreign assets."
"Those bastards..."
"No." There was no remorse in his voice. "I have information that neither you nor your mercenary guild know. There have been rumors...rumors of war. The Mage Council is hard pressed: they cannot defend us forever. They say even the Sheikah are on the move...the governor knows that Kakariko will not stand an assault, and he wishes to protect this city."
"You justify his actions?"
"Perhaps I am." Simar smiled slightly as he dusted off a stray cobweb from his shoulder. "Let's not bring it up the subject again. You have a message, I suppose?"
"An offer. And a warning." Hadrian pulled out a scroll from his pocket. "You know too much: your presence itself threatens our existence. If you join us, I will lead you to them. If you do not...even as your friend, I cannot delay the Guild's justice."
"Do I have much of a choice?"
Hadrian shrugged. "I am only a messenger. Your fate lies in your own hands."
"Fate...that is an interesting word." Simar took the scroll, holding it in his hand. "I will consider your offer...if you humor me with this request."
"And what would that be, friend?"
Simar tossed a small object in the air, which Hadrian caught. "Take that, and tell me what you see."
It was a puppet. Wordlessly the mercenary took out his own, and put them side by side. It was as if they were twins.
"I received that not two weeks ago from a strange entertainer, in a city a long ways from here. He told me things about myself that only I knew, and he gave me a message—or half of one, he said. I asked for confirmation." Simar gestured to the puppets. "It seems like you have it."
Hadrian was speechless. "What...what was your message?"
"He said...'Go to the Wastelands. The land of shadows and living nightmares. I suggest you hurry...'"
"'Someone is waiting for you,'" Hadrian continued.
"'A dangerous fate rests in your hands,'" they finished together. The silence that followed was deafening.
"You can't suppose...this is just some freak coincidence?"
"When I was young, I didn't believe in deities," Simar said slowly, hesitating a bit with his words. "But this...this is not coincidence. I can feel it. Someone, something is there in the Wastelands...and someone wants us to meet them." He turned and look Hadrian in the eyes. "Will you come?"
"I...yes. I will."
"The Goddesses, or whatever greater being there is out there, have mercy on us."
The sanctuary was empty. Though the service had ended but an hour ago, not even the priestesses and holy men remained, long since returned to their warmth of their own homes. While the rest of the building was dark, the altar in front burned brightly with the light of a thousand candles, silhouetting the figure of a young man who had been kneeling there for hours.
A woman stepped out from a shadow of a pillar, making no sound as she silently approached the altar. The man shifted slightly. His hunter's instinct allowed him to know exactly where she was, but he refused to move. She stopped at about ten feet away from him, her eyes burning into the back of his head.
"Link," she said, her words echoing throughout the chamber. He turned.
"If you have come seeking a place to hide, you came to the right place," she said, her voice full of anger and hostility. "The Mage Council grants asylum to all, regardless of their past, and they permit none to interfere with their policies..."
"You know who I am."
"Indeed." She took a firm step towards him and continued. "There will be justice for the crimes you have done."
"Have you come to bring it?"
She lost almost all her resolve at that sentence. That was not the voice of a bloodthirsty murderer...it was the voice of one who had seen too much: one who was utterly and completely weary of life. Had he gone mad? What had happened to him? She cleared her thoughts and drew herself up again. "Perhaps."
He stood, slowly, then turned to face her. He looked into her eyes, as if he could see into her very soul. "I have done you harm."
"You have bet you did..." she said through clenched teeth.
He felt a mass of metal strike his face, and he crumpled to the floor. When he finally cleared his head from the blurriness, he found himself a good two feet off the ground, a massive mechanized arm grasping him by the throat. The arcane magic powering it burned with a furious intensity. Her eyes burned with the same fury.
"You slaughtered my family in cold blood! A thousand others lay dead in the streets by your hand! You single-handedly killed off entire villages—New Ordon, Amaryllis, Perion—remember those names? You laughed as you sliced this," and the grip on his throat grew tighter, "off an innocent girl as if you were having fun! You're a murderer, a butcher of men! YOU'RE NOT HUMAN!" She was screaming with an intensity she did not know she had, seething with uncontrollable rage.
"Am I?" It was that same, tired, voice again...
She released her hold. He landed ungracefully on the floor.
Then Link spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Things have changed, Zelda. You don't know what it's like, to be possessed by a spirit you cannot control. I was a different man then...I look back and am horrified by what I have done. Then a servant of the Goddesses saved me...but the crimes I have committed, they burn in my dreams; nightmares of my past. Some things cannot be fully healed..."
He began to get up. She offered a hand to help him.
"Redemption can come to the worst of sinners...and even the worst of sins can be forgiven. The mercy of the Goddesses is beyond comprehension. I have realized that...I hope you, in time, can realize that as well."
Then he was gone. She stood alone in the sanctuary, as the massive doors behind her creaked open, then closed.
"He knew my name?"
Hopefully this made sense. I've been trying to avoid proper names just to build the suspense and mystery of the whole story, but I'm afraid I could be too vague...ever more reason to review and tell me!
-Goldenrhino