Chapter 11

Link

The third night. The third night of this dreadful, insufferable snoring!

Goddess, curse me with deafness and I shall be forever grateful, Link thought exasperatedly. He couldn't believe the infernal concerto Sir Russel and Ricco were performing. He wished he had his father's blacksmithing tongs with him so he could clamp their tongues to their eyebrows!

Link sighed, sleeplessly. It was the last night. They would reach the city tomorrow.

Truth be told, the hideous noise wasn't the only reason he couldn't sleep. He didn't want to admit it but he was terribly nervous.

In small part because it was the first time he was away from his family. He was in good company, no doubt about it, but still. By giving him his own sword, André had basically told him that he was almost a man grown and he trusted him to solve his own problems. A blade on his back meant he was a child no longer. The more he thought about it, Link did not feel like an adult… however that is supposed to feel.

The bigger part was, of course, the goddess-cursed tourney. He had trained until his bones cracked and his hands were chafed bloody. What if it wasn't enough? What if after all this practice he had to look in Sir Russel's eyes as the loser? And in his father's? And then there was her… he had promised her… indirectly… and in a fit of rage…

Not for the first time he cursed himself for his ungodly laziness during the first weeks of his training. How much more could he have learned? How much more secure would he be?

Ricco performed a particularly boisterous snore. While Link was extremely glad that his friend had been able to join him on this quest, he was just about ready to take a pillow and release him from his misery.

The racket took his sleep and made him ponder and speculate. Never a good thing before an important event…

Link stood up. He had to do something. Lying there, letting his brain wander unchecked he would be driven mad. He grabbed his sword and left their encampment. Like many times before he drew his blade and took a moment to admire his craftsmanship lovingly, an act that had already led to much merriment for Ricco. Link had once found him… snogging his blade, then making a shocked face and exclaiming "Leave us be! She loves me more than you!"

Link hadn't known whether to murder him or laugh his head off.

He now had a simple but durable scabbard, made of hardened leather and metal clasps. Mart had assisted him in fashioning it. Regretfully he hadn't been able to join them. Ric had tried to cheer him up by saying that someone had to make sure the village girls weren't lonely while he was gone. It had had mixed success. Especially since one of said girls was standing behind him with a carpet beater.

Link started doing his forms, slowly, feeling each muscle work in concert. From the first form to the most advanced and back down again.

Tomorrow they'd arrive. Sir Russel and he would have to confirm their participation in the tourney as advocate and combatant. Each fighter who wanted to compete at the great Hyrule tourney of swordmastery needed a man or woman of high rank as advocate. A dreadfully old tradition, but with every royal bla-bla you needed to take a few bureaucratic hurdles, it seemed. Apparently, when you had nothing else to do in your life as noble, you invented rules and regulations.

After their official entry, they'd have two more days until the tournament started. Time to become familiar with the arena and to spy on your fellow swordsmen. There would be 16 boys or girls under the age of 16. 15 rivals and Link had no idea who they were. Hylian, Gerudo, Rito, Zora… all had good fighters. Gorons were banned though. Give a Goron a blade of tournament approved dimensions and he could hardly use it as a toothpick.

In the last week of their training Sir Russel had tried to explain and imitate the different fighting styles of the four competing races. Of course, he had only been able to provide a very basic understanding of the differences and quirks. Link would have to learn what he could in those two days. He had no doubt that some of the noble born gentlefolk had used their connections and knew the roster very well, so they could prepare accordingly.

Link only had two advantages. His underdog status was one. Nobody expected some random hylian bumpkin to actually be decent. His left-handedness was the other. Although it would get interesting if he met another lefty right then... he hadn't trained against one of these freaks either...

Link was done with his regimen, for now. He glanced at the moon. About three in the morning. He checked the camp. Yep, still playing throat trumpet. And now he was hungry. Great!

Before he would lie back down, he had to conduct some urgent business behind the bushes. He wondered how big the arena was. How many eyes would follow his sword? He hoped he could block them out while fighting, he hated being watched.

He hated being… watched.

"Interesting. You noticed me." a female voice said, very close behind him.

He flinched heavily and nearly squeezed something rather delicate.

He didn't dare to move. Whoever this was, she sounded near enough to stab him, if she wanted.

"Enjoying the show, are we?" was what a slightly suicidal part of his brain wanted to say. Instead he went with a shocked "Wrghah?"

"Finish up and follow." The voice commanded. She sounded old but firm. A hard voice.

Link repackaged and slowly turned his head. About 3 metres away stood a tall, straight-backed woman, facing away. She was wearing a black cloak even in this heat, so he couldn't really see much else. Only a braid of snowy white hair was visible as it was slung around her neck. She held a wooden long staff in her right, bandaged hand.

Link turned around fully and grabbed the hilt of his sword. He stood unmoving for a few seconds, his scabbard in his right hand, still sheathed blade in his left. His heart still beating fast he took a deep breath. "Excuse me, if I am being rude but who the hell do you think you are?" he hissed.

She turned around slightly so he could see her profile. In the poor light he couldn't be sure but she looked at least 70. She smiled.

"Here you train, here you stand, asking so many questions, having so many thoughts and they're all the wrong ones. All terribly unimportant. Will you be able to ask the right questions in time? Hmm?" she asked in a motherly, sing-song voice.

Link had no answer. This situation was just too bizarre.

"Follow." She ordered him again.

"No! How stupid do you think I am?" he exclaimed. He wouldn't follow a strange voyeur lady to who knows where. Link had a distinct feeling that this woman was quite dangerous, even at her age.

"A little, still. But alright. I would merely prefer to talk without that walking mountain's snoring interrupting me." She sighed, turned around to face him squarely and sat down, cross legged. Her staff she placed in front of her.

Link thought for a moment, weighing his options. He was in earshot of his companions, but whether they would hear him over their racket was questionable. Should he sit down with this madwoman? She seemed peaceful enough right now. Apparently she wanted to talk.

…fine!

He sat down, just out of range of her staff, his fingers never leaving his sword hilt.

"Does an old woman with a stick look so threatening to you, hero?" she softly laughed.

Link frowned at her sarcastic 'hero'. Who does this crone think she is? But if she has to ask… "You are an old woman. But you reached your age with a straight back and your movements are neither trembling nor frail. You have no need of a walking stick. You are a fighter and this is your weapon." He explained tersely.

She looked at him from under her hood. He thought he could make out a slightly surprised expression. "An analytical mind! Very good. I feared you'd just be a simple boy who only knows how to swing his sword." she said appreciatively. Link's temper was roused nevertheless at her apparent opinion of him, but he remained calm, for now.

"Since we are already trading pleasantries, why don't you introduce yourself? I would love to know the name of the woman that sneaks up on people a fraction of her age from behind while they are preoccupied." Link grumbled.

"All in good time, Link." She purred.

Link clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on his sword. "How do you know my name?" he growled, not bothering to hide his hostility.

She seemed unperturbed. "You could say I am a watcher. One of the last of my kind. I make sure that that which matters most is not forgotten." She intoned.

Link could not say if this was an elaborate prank or if this crone was actually taking herself seriously. "I have forgotten to bring my favourite snack from my village. Did you bring it?" he said, feigning seriousness.

The old woman cackled softly. "Goddesses, you both are so young. It is truly regrettable." Then she turned dead serious all of a sudden and Link flinched. "Listen. The ancient one is stirring. It will soon make Its presence felt. Darkening of shadows, peril behind every corner, fear in everyone's eyes. You will sense it. You have to be ready!" she whispered.

Something in her voice made Link shiver. Her words touched something inside him that caused substantial unease. Whether or not this woman was insane, she was dead serious. But she was making no sense. "Stop speaking nonsense. You speak of danger, yet you don't mention its origin. You say I will sense it, but don't say what I'm supposed to sense. And you spoke of 'us both'. I want answers, not riddles!"

She looked at him, her hood making her expression unreadable. "Very well. Fight me for the answers you seek."

Link barely had time to make a befuddled face before she rolled forward, picking up her staff mid turn and whacked him heavily on the head with it. Link reacted more out of instinct than anything else when he rolled to the side and whipped his sword out. He barely managed to block the crone's follow-up horizontal strike. His whole arm felt numb. That staff had immense force behind it!

"What in damnation? You cheat!" he yelled, careful to stay out of her range.

"This is not your little tournament, boy. This is life. Fight for it!" she hissed and jumped forward, ramming her staff towards his face. Link dodged and tried to cut at his assailant's arm. She turned, using the other end of her weapon to deflect his strike, whipped around fully and swept both his legs from under him.

Link grunted in pain but rolled backwards instantly as he hit the ground, narrowly avoiding a vicious downwards hit aimed for his body.

He stood, heart racing. Cold sweat formed on his back. This was serious. She was going to kill him! He wasn't fighting to win, he was fighting for his life!

He tried to call for help but she interrupted him by executing a wide-arced attack. Link stepped back, feeling the wind from the staff's tip on his face. A split second slower and she would have taken his head right off!

Link tried to regain his focus. Fearful reaction would only make him predictable. He couldn't stay at a distance, that was her weapon's strongest point! He needed to step close. Her staff's momentum would be much more manageable and his shorter sword would be quicker. Theoretically… the old woman was incredibly fast!

He darted forward. He was met by quick jab from the left which he met with his sword. Due to the shortened distance his sword arm wasn't quite as shaken, but he still felt a jolt run through his entire body.

Now he was in range! With his left holding her weapon in check he whipped his right, still holding the hard leather scabbard, towards her head. Impossibly quick she ducked, turned and used the back end of her staff to redirect Link's blow harmlessly over her. She had used the same move before! Link, as if following a higher power, jumped. Once again she finished her twist with a wide low sweep, which now met only air. Link, still airborne had just enough time to whip his right downwards towards her head before she could put her guard back up. As if she could read his mind, she stepped away, but this time, not quite fast enough. She took a glancing hit on her forehead but that hardly stopped her. She used the momentum of her turn and whirled the back-end at his temple. Link's hastily raised guard was smashed through and his own blade cracked against his skull sideways. Since he had only just touched the ground again he lost his balance and fell heavily on his side. His vision was flashing from the hit on his head. He only heard the deep 'whoop' sound of the staff's tip speeding towards him.

I am dead.

Strangely, not much changed by being dead. His calves and head still hurt the same, which he thought was rather unfair.

Slowly his vision returned and he saw the dangerous tip a centimetre from his face. He dared not to move but looked up at his attacker. His grazing hit had whipped away her hood. She looked even older, now that moonlight fell on her face. And she had red eyes!

"You have exceptional skill. But you lack conviction. The next time someone attacks like I have just done, strike to kill. Defending only half-heartedly will mean your death and the death of her."

He didn't know what to say. He was still too shocked from fighting for his life and then being spared. This old woman had bested him as if it were nothing!

"Not true!" she said. "Nobody has managed to hit me in 30 years." Could she read his mind? She slowly moved her staff away from his face.

"Listen, boy! Ancient evil is starting to take a hold on the land. It cannot yet take form, but it has many who would worship It as god. And they have heard Its call. They will soon be ready to come into the open. Trust only those closest to you. You have to be ready, both in body and in mind. You must become the protector." She whispered urgently.

"Whom? Whom do I have to protect?" Dozens of faces flooded his mind. His parents', his siblings', Ric's, Marten's, the people's in his village. Her beautiful face, almost hidden behind maid's clothing, yet still haunting him sweetly.

"Light, my boy. You have to protect the light." She said softly, almost sadly.

She executed a complicated gesture with her free hand.

Suddenly Link was blinded by a flashing light. He heard a hiss of air and then silence. When his vision cleared he was alone.

He jumped up but dizziness made him sit back down. His head was swimming with the old crone's weird statements and his temple throbbed fiercely. For an instant he vainly hoped that he wouldn't have to compete with a face sagging from a huge bruise. …but it seemed that the tournament was not the most important thing he needed to focus on, if the woman was to be believed. Link was still very unsure in the matter. Should he take those seemingly crazy ramblings seriously? Ancient evil? Worshippers? Protector of light? It sounded like a title he would've invented when he was ten and fought his friends in epic fantasy struggles.

On the other hand… the uneasiness that had descended on Ord? People scurrying from house to house as if, all of a sudden, afraid of the dark? Bokoblins scampering through the night? That odd, terrifying dream he'd had about darkness assailing the princess?

It was ridiculous but Link felt a connection. And to his surprise he found that he was willing to believe the crone. At least insofar that he would stay watchful.

He sighed. Well, at least the princess he didn't have to protect. She was probably the safest person on the world, behind the castle walls, guarded by an army of soldiers and knights.

Sigh, again. Not for the first time he wondered what she would do when she saw him again. Was she still mad because of the asinine things he had said? She could probably just order her guards to arrest him as soon as he stepped into the ring... Or, maybe once he'd won the tourney and he stepped towards her to be prized by her, she'd just slap him and tell him to go to hell. That would probably be the talk of the town for months…

Aargh, he was brooding again. He brushed dirt off his blade and sheathed it. If nothing had attacked him by now, he was probably safe. His head had stopped spinning so he stood up.

Link walked over to where the woman had stood before she had… magicked away. It was hard to tell by moonlight, but he was pretty sure that no tracks led away from the spot he had last seen her. What was that woman? First she had snuck up on him and he had barely noticed her at all. Then she had thoroughly kicked his butt, shaking him with her apparent murderous intent. And then she had seemingly just flown away after prophesizing doom.

"What. The actual. Fuck." Link mumbled incredulously.

Naturally, sleep had not been feasible that night. Link was sitting on the cart drawn by Sir Russel's aging horse, staring ahead. His tired but overwrought mind was playing tricks on him. Every harmless traveller they met on the road seemed shifty, somehow. They all moved weirdly. As if they had something to hide.

Link rubbed his eyes. Maybe the horse really wasn't a horse at all, but just two assassins in costume, waiting for the right moment, he thought cynically. Link knew these observations to be figments of his brain, fuelled by this night's craziness.

Thankfully his face seemed to be normal. If his temple had been bruised, reliable old Ricco would have pointed it out in his usual, discreet manner. Probably something like "What sort of immorality did you try with the horse that it kicked you?"

He had to smile. At least he could count on his friend to keep him somewhat grounded. Once they were out of earshot of Sir Russel, he planned to tell Ric what had happened right away. Link was anxious to know what he thought of the whole matter. Somehow Sir Russel didn't seem like the person who would take him seriously, if he explained that a crone had beaten him in a battle, talked of disaster and then flew away…

"Hey, sleepyhead! Look!" Ricco exclaimed.

Look woke from his stupor to actually take a look. A big smile formed on his face. Walls of white stone, watchtowers, 30 metres high and enthroned on the central hill, the castle. Hyrule city, the crown jewel of the country.

"Goddess, I'd hoped I never have to set foot in that cesspit again." Sir Russel growled. Link and Ricco turned to each other and demonstratively rolled their eyes. The old bear had been grumbling the entire trip. The boys didn't care if it was dirty, crowded or filled with scoundrels. It was new and exciting and they strongly suspected that the old grump wasn't being rational.

"What is it, Sir Russel? An old paramour, perhaps, that has spurned your tender advances?" Ricco asked, innocently. Link spluttered in a burst of laughter.

"I'll give you tender, you tub of lard. Who even asked you to come along?" mumbled the old bear.

Link had to get in on that conversation. "Ricco is right, you know. It does sound like you have a lost love in there. Maybe it's not too late? It has only been, what, fifty years? A shy question, flowers, chocolate, a challenge to a bloody duel… what woman could say no?"

"Knows the grown man with boundless experience." Scoffed the knight.

"Now stop your mucking around for one second. Nayru's wisdom, I think I have aged ten years during these four days."

They were approaching the north gate, an enormous archway of stone with a huge drawbridge spanning a moat of muddy water. The iron rings that would hoist the bridge were each thicker than Link's body.

Sir Russel had a brief conversation with the captain of the gate guards. He showed them his knightly seal and asked for an escort to the compound which would house them for the duration of the tournament.

Link looked at his mentor incredulously. An escort? Why in the world would anyone try to attack three armed men on a cart filled with a few scrapes of food?

But soon Link knew why. The roads of the city were one whole network of traffic congestion. People walking briskly to and fro, people who drove their slow ox carts along, people who would cry death threats at said ox cart drivers for holding up everything… in short: people. And chaos. And an escort of city guards did help to secure a little right of way. Sometimes.

Link and Ricco didn't mind whatsoever. From the cart they could watch the colourful turmoil of people and pay close attention to the most creative swearing of the Hyrulers. It didn't take long for Sir Russel to also add a few new interesting expletives to their rapidly growing collection. A country boy could learn a lot on the streets, it seemed. They passed the outskirts of a small market, only 100 metres away from the gate. Link and Ric looked with shining eyes at the assortment of exotic foods, flowers and animals. They spotted a market stall that seemed to sell solely spices. A dynamic Gerudo lady was inviting anyone to buy her mixtures of wonderfully coloured red and orange seasonings. Next to her a Zora's stall offered impossibly looking fish and other seafood. Some of them were still very much alive and he had to continually keep weird tentacly things from escaping. A few metres away stood a Goron with a vendor's tray, offering… freshly heated gravel?!

The two boys were quite disappointed when the cart left the square behind. Sir Russel chuckled and told them that that had been just a small local market and the one on Hylia square was incomparably more interesting. They promised each other that they would check it out, if there was time.

After a few more crowded streets (and a lot more inventive cussing) they reached the gymnasium that would be their abode and Link's training spot for the last two days.

A bored clerk wrote down his and his advocate's name and showed them their rooms. Link, carrying his sparse belongings could already see two men sparring in the inner yard. They both looked older than him, for which he was glad. They were good.

You couldn't even beat an old woman, a nasty voice in his head supplied. Link ignored it as best as he could.

The rooms that were at their disposal were impressive. Not gaudy, but spacious, well kept and nice. They were even subdivided into bedroom and small living plus dining room. Even with Ricco's nightly concerts, this should be no problem. Sir Russel had gotten his own room, of course.

"Ah, this appears to be the ideal spot for my humble servant to stay the night." Link exclaimed, pointing at the thin rug in the living room.

"Humble servant would prefer a place at master's side, so master won't need to fear the night so much." Ricco countered without skipping a beat.

"The only thing keeping me up at night is your infernal racket. I swear, if you don't let me sleep at night, I will hang you in the courtyard by your…"

"BOY!" Sir Russel's thundering voice interrupted. "Come over here!"

Link walked outside, being followed by Ric's mumbled "Who's a good boy? You are, yes you are!"

The old knight was standing next to a slim man in his fifties. Short, grey hair and a light stubble. "Link, I want you to meet Sir Alistair, an old friend. He is one of the royal blademasters and will referee the tournament. Sir Alistair, my charge, Link Andrésson."

The man promptly extended his hand and Link did the same. The blademaster gave him a curt nod. This was undoubtedly a tough man, Link could tell by his grip and the calluses on his hands. An important and respected man! But nevertheless he greeted him evenly, from swordsman to swordsman. Link liked him already. He judged him a fair referee.

"Sir Russel is vouching for you. From him that is a sign of high respect. I hope you will live up to that. And I do not mean winning." He said in a rough, toneless voice, that startled Link. He glanced at the man's throat and now noticed an uneven faint white scar that ran across.

What had that enigmatic statement meant? That he shouldn't cheat?

"I aim to do so, Sir. I care not for hollow victories." Link said seriously.

"Good. Not shy either. I make a point of meeting my contestants. It allows me to watch carefully where it's needed. I hope I am not wrong with you." He rasped.

"He's a good kid, Alistair. He won't be a problem." Sir Russel interjected.

The blademaster hmphed, excused himself and left.

They looked after him. There was a man who had a fascinating, charismatic aura around him. "I was 18 when I first met him. He was fourteen. I had won the tourney the year before. And he trounced me as if I was a snot-nosed street urchin." Sir Russel snorted, shaking his head softly.

Link stared at his mentor. Even more interesting!

The old knight looked at him strictly. "Do you even know what blademaster means, boy?" he barked.

"Highest honours for skill with weapons. They train the royal guard and even the royal family. There's only ever seven of them." Link recited distractedly, thinking about the skill Sir Alistair must have.

The old bear grunted appreciatively.

Link grinned like an idiot. This place got more interesting by the minute. The city was fascinating, the people crazy and there were awe inspiring persons about.

I think I might like it here!