Chapter 18
Princess of Destiny, that's what they all called her. From the moment she'd taken her first breath, she'd known she was special, known she was unique. It had been drummed into her head at every opportunity, the late night gatherings with the Elders, the soft whispered words from her minders. Every time she'd passed anyone in the narrow, stuffy hallways of the safehouse, people had looked at her with an awe that she'd gradually gotten so used to that when anyone didn't look at her like that, she'd feel slighted. That was how she felt right now.
They stood in a small cavern, the air damp and the walls covered with some sort of shimmering fabric, like blue starlight burned into the rock. A pool of water glistened at their feet, clear enough that it could reflect their faces back at them in wavy, smeared images. Drops of water fell from the jagged ceiling, plopping into the pool with a splash that echoed so loud that it could've been mistaken for an explosion. The Princess could see them all in the pool's glossy sheen – the Twins, Sahasrahla, and the strange, grey creature that called itself a 'Zora'. Fran was the only one who was missing, and she briefly wondered what had happened to him, though she didn't have the courage to ask.
As usual, she stood apart from the rest. She knew that they thought it was because she was trying to preserve her modesty, or something similar. In truth, though, she hated them. Hated them all. Her role in her life wasn't the only thing that she'd had whispered into her ears as a child. The Harkinians had told her of the bitter hardships that had befallen them – the loss of their authority, the cruel torture that they that to endure when captured, the stripping of their dignity and livelihood. Their words had sparked the flame of anger in her heart and, though she always showered her family with compassion and kindness, she felt nothing but a dull fury towards every other person in the world, Hylian or otherwise. At the moment, however, she needed these people. The knowledge grated at her.
"Wear this," the Zora said.
Before the Princess could ask what the creature was referring to, she felt something clammy slam into her mouth, then begin to spread across her body. Her eyes widened, her heart thumping with fear, and she raised her hands, ready to tear the thing from her face.
The Zora's eyes flashed. "Calm down," it said. Its voice was light, almost musical. The Princess, letting herself relax somewhat, decided that it was a female.
The film of slime had wrapped itself around her now, feeling very much like a second skin. The Princess found that she could breathe relatively easily and, if she flexed her hands, she only felt the slightest touch of the substance against her fingers. She saw the others, also coated in the near-invisible ooze, gaze down at themselves in wonder. She glanced at Sahasrahla. The little man merely shrugged in return.
"What is this?" she asked.
The Zora said nothing. A crack echoed in the distance, like the snapping of a taut string. The Princess gasped as the walls split apart, and water, frothy and green, gushed into the chamber. The Twins spun, their eyes desperately searching for an exit. Only the small man and the Zora creature remained calm. Bracing herself, the Princess watched as the water pooled around her ankles, crept up to her waist, then rose to her neck. She felt nothing. Whatever it was that the Zora had coated them with was protecting them from the liquid.
Fear simmered in her heart as the water pounded against her ears, then engulfed her mouth. Closing her eyes automatically, the Princess realised that none of it had touched her tongue. The liquid slithered up her face, washed over the top of her head, then swallowed her whole.
The Zora spoke. "Welcome to our domain."
The Princess' eyes fluttered open, and she almost took a step back in shock. It wasn't enough that she could actually hear the creature despite being underwater, it wasn't enough that she didn't feel in the slightest bit affected by all the liquid; it was the sight before her that made her reel.
The cavern was gone, replaced by the shimmering curtains of water under the sea. The Princess guessed that that's where they had to be. Where else would such a thing stand? The Zoras had taken them days ago, covering their eyes and shackling their limbs. It was possible that they had travelled to the edge of the land in all that time. She had decided, despite the fact that they'd been travelling against their will, to see where the Zoras would lead them. Clearly, they didn't want her or the others dead. It had been a struggle for her to convey to the Twins not to attempt any escape, but she had managed it. Sahasrahla, she knew, thought the same as she did, and gave no hint that he wanted to flee. Yet.
Blurred lights stared at them through the thick mass of liquid. Tall, emerald buildings, constructed from corral and coated with seaweed, rose towards the smudged sunlight above. Some of the buildings changed colour, flowing from red to blue, then blossoming green at any given moment. Groups of Zoras swam here and there, leaving a froth of bubbles in their wake. Fish followed them, swiftly riding the currents of the sea, some gold, some silver, some in colours she had no name for. A city under the sea. A living, breathing city.
"You've been busy while you've been away," Sahasrahla said. The Princess, considering everything that had befallen them so far, felt no surprise in the face of the fact that he could talk underwater.
A hint of pride crossed the Zora's face. "We were always sovereigns of the sea," she said. "From here we strike back and reclaim the land."
"But why?" the small man asked. "You appear to have everything you need right here."
The Princess spoke up before the Zora could reply. "What makes you think you have any right to the land?" Anger ignited in her voice. Once she had her Hyrule back, she was not going to share it with anyone. "Others have claims, too. Older, more legitimate claims."
Gracefully, the sleek creature turned to the Princess, black eyes burning. "We know of you. We know of your family." She paused, her smooth skin betraying no hint of agitation. "That's why we brought you here."
"I don't require your help." Clenching her jaw, the Princess tried vainly to maintain an equal semblance of composure. Appearance, she knew, was everything. It was her demure appearance that made her so trustworthy to the others. What she expressed on the outside only hid the schemes of her heart. Princess of Destiny wasn't the only title she had. Inheritor of Wisdom was the other.
The Zora looked at her quizzically. "You can't take back the land on your own."
"It's my land. I'll do with it as I please." Water bubbled by her face, and she noticed the others looking at her, Sahasrahla in particular, with odd expressions. She was already relying on too many people. Still. What did it matter? They could all aid her in bringing her the Throne. After that, she would discard them, especially those that didn't belong to her race. All she needed was to gain the loyalty of her fellow Hylians. It shouldn't be too hard. Once she'd found the 'Hero' and slain the King, the others would gratefully flung themselves at her feet. It all fit in her mind. It was all so…neat. "Forgive me," she said, looking at the sea creature. "You have something to offer?"
"Come," the Zora said, nodding before turning towards the city. "We have much to discuss."
...
"What is this place?"
Link craned his neck over the lip of the rise, peering down into the yawning chasm, a massive rip in the land as though some horrific force had torn the earth apart with its own hands. Jagged claws of crystal peeked out from the bed of the gorge, twisted, curling and coated in basalt, burnt black from some unknown explosion. Where Link stood now at the edge of the abyss, the ground was all cracked and charred, hairline fractures crisscrossing one another as though woven by a drunken seamstress.
At the centre of it all, hovering above the land silently, a massive, billowing cloud floated, churning and swelling like the rise and fall of a man's chest. Lightening flashed from within, not the incandescent blue that Link was used to, no; here were snatches of the deepest, liquid black, each appearance threatening to pull his soul into the gloom, each burst like the cut of a sword made entirely from dirty ice.
Link sensed Harlequin at his side. "This is the Valley of Perpetual Night," the young bandit said. An edge of smug superiority smudged his voice. Obviously he was pleased that he knew something that Link didn't. "Once we're under the cloud there we'll not see the sun again for quite a long time, mister. They say a castle once stood here, a relic of a dead royal family." He shuffled, almost hopping from one foot to another. Link had learned that whenever Jack was eager to spout off some nonsense he became very agitated. "I hope you're not afraid of the dark." With that, the bandit flung back his head and laughed, clutching his stomach.
Link ignored him, batting down the itch of irritation that buzzed at his heart. At first the bandit's constant chattering and inane comments had annoyed him no end, especially since he'd been tense with fury because of losing Zelda. Then, after a while, Link had adapted, using Harlequin's company as an opportunity to test his own patience.
The bandit camp, burned to cinders and ash, lay far behind them at the foot of the hill. Kisho had done a good job, single-handedly bringing the entire community down around their ears. Link would have even been impressed had he not had to recover from the draining shock that Zelda had gone missing. Dragging Harlequin out of the bandit King's fortress, they'd caught a glimpse of the red-haired bandit woman, fleeing hastily on a wobbly cart, Zelda snugly tied up in the back, unconscious and oblivious.
They'd tried to follow instantly, but the remaining bandits, dripping with anger and with hearts shattered, had barred their path, eager for revenge. It hadn't taken Link long to part the swelling mass of humanity, leaving only broken arrows and cold bodies in his trail. Grabbing Jack, the young assassin had demanded to know where Malon was taking Zelda. After much heated 'convincing' – none of it gentle – the bandit had revealed that there was a good possibility that she was heading for the slave trader camp nearby. With that, Link had made his way west, dragging Harlequin along as a guide.
Twinkles of hazy light winked from within the chasm. "There are settlements down there?" Link asked.
"The Lost," Harlequin replied, his tone suddenly sombre. "People who have nowhere else to go." A grim expression fell on his face, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They're a little…strange. They haven't seen the sunlight in so long."
Link digested the information without comment. It was strange that these people hadn't been covered in his assassins training. "The slave traders," he continued. "They're down there, too?"
"Plenty of people down there, mister," Jack replied. His voice seemed to echo slightly, rolling off the rocks and amplifying in the massive pit below. "Dangerous people." He turned to the Hylian, a glimmer in his eye. "Course, won't be a problem for someone as skilled as a Royal Assassin."
Link stayed silent. He didn't see any point in confirming or denying the bandit's musings. The more knowledge Harlequin had about him, the more power he would have, too. And Link certainly didn't want that. "We take the path, then." It wasn't a question. His eyes drifted to the narrow strip of rock that winded its way down to the chasm's floor. It looked dangerous. "Sure you can handle it?"
Harlequin shrugged, sniffing. "Not much choice, is there?" His eyes hardened, flooded with anger. "You're going to make me, anyway." He looked away, gazing back towards the distant remains of the bandit camp. "I lost everything back there. Friends, family. My life. Now, I'm here with you. The one partly responsible." Shaking his head, he grit his teeth, his chest heaving. "Fate's played a bloody twisted joke on me, hasn't it?"
Grief filled the bandit's voice. Link stood, his eyes still fixed on the Valley. If Zelda had been here, she would have tried to have comforted the young man. If Zelda had been here, she would have known exactly what to say. But she wasn't. So, instead, Link said, "Ready yourself. We go in. Now."
Jack held his ground, his fists clenching. "You know, Hikirem won't take this lying down. He's had everything he loved and worked for torn from him." His lip quivered as he spoke. "He'll be on our trail soon. He's lost it all and he won't be happy."
Link threw the bandit a disinterested glance. "My heart bleeds for him."
Moving swiftly, Harlequin slipped behind a gnarled tree, his round face peeking out from behind the trunk. This was another habit Link had noticed about the man – his constant desire to keep moving, as though all his energy was coiled up in his limbs, desperately waiting to be sprung free. "You'd do well to take things a little more seriously, mister," Harlequin said. A smile touched his lips. "What's it like, I wonder? What's it like to have the power to end another man's life?"
Link knew he shouldn't let himself be goaded into the conversation. Still, he couldn't resist. The bandit's smirk was irritating, like dirt in his eye. "I do what I have to," he said slowly. "To protect others." The explanation was clumsy, he knew. He couldn't quite put into words the thoughts spinning around his head. He hoped it was enough.
It wasn't. "So…" Harlequin said, stroking his chin. "To let others live you kill. I wonder…who exactly judges whether one life is worth more than another?" His eyes narrowed. "Fascinating."
Tiring of the conversation, the Hylian strode towards the path. As he reached it, he saw how it curled down into the depths, saw the splinters of rock strewn across its surface. He put one foot tentatively onto the dust ahead. The path trembled. It was far from stable.
Harlequin was by his side in a heartbeat, his grinning face an annoying blur in the corner of Link's vision. "You know what you remind me of?" the bandit said. When he received no reply, he continued, "You look like Death itself walking amongst us mere mortals." He giggled at his own joke. "Perhaps you are the Spirit of Death himself…hmm, mister?"
Finally Link turned towards him, eyes blazing. "Why don't I push you into the Valley right here," he growled, "and let you find out for yourself?"
Jack shrank back, though his grin didn't melt. Link found that even more exasperating. Spinning on his heel in a dance like manoeuvre, the bandit whirled past the assassin until he was out in front. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said. "Another notch on your bow, eh mister?"
Link's heart tightened as he caught the implication in the bandit's voice. "I don't enjoy killing." Instantly, he knew he'd made a mistake. Now he'd confirmed Harlequin's suspicions about him.
The bandit froze, his head cocked to one side. "Oh really?" His eyes thinned again. "Fascinating." A heartbeat passed. "From the way you walk and the manner in which you hold that weapon," Jack continued, "I'd say you did enjoy it one time. But now…hmmm, yes, now things have changed." He took a step forward. "Turned over a new Deku leaf, did you? Found the error of your ways…or," his grin grew wider, "or it's that girly, isn't it?" He gave a theatrical sigh. "Melted your heart, did she?" Gazing off into the heavens, he let his smile grow lopsided. "How sweet."
With a snarl, Link pushed past him, making sure to shove him with the greatest of force. Briefly, he let his gaze wander over the bandit's form. "That's an interesting bauble," he muttered, nodding at a thin bracelet wrapped around Jack's wrist. He'd noticed it before, and only now decided to ponder over it. It was a dull silver chain, locked by a pendant depicting a dagger cutting a rope in two. "A gift from a friend?" He kept his eyes fixed on it, waiting for the other man to reply. He didn't. "Or a token of love, maybe." Still Harlequin remained silent. Link's mouth curled as something clicked in his mind. Once again, his childhood training had come to the rescue. "Or perhaps…the mark of an outcast?"
"Clever assassin," the bandit said sourly.
Link's heart surged with triumph. They were even now. He pushed his advantage as they marched down. "You didn't leave any family behind, did you?" he said. "There was no life for you back at the camp."
Harlequin shrugged. "What can I say?" he replied. "The bandit's life isn't for me. I was fostered to a family there." He leaned forward, as though he were about to reveal a dark secret. "By fostered I mean they took me captive as a child when they raided my village." He snorted. "Then they expect you to become one of them. Raping, pillaging, murdering. You know." He glanced at Link. "No, you probably don't. Anyway…they took me out on my first raid. They wanted me to kill some woman for a pathetic little necklace. She had her child with her. I couldn't do it. Hence, they marked me an outcast."
Silence hung between them, each man lost in his thoughts. Link realised how similar Jack's plight had been to the night of his Test. "You wanted to get away," he said after a moment. "You were glad I took you."
Harlequin raised his head, his fiery eyes locking with Link's. "Don't think this means I'm indebted to you," he spat. "It doesn't. I'll help you find your girly, then I'm gone, hear?"
Link nodded. "I understand."
The conversation now over, the young Hylian focused on the path ahead. The light was diminishing quickly, drained by the cloud's shadow. Despite that, it was a lot warmer here with grass fluttering at their feet and the occasional fruit hanging from the few trees that they passed. Winter had been defeated here. Heat radiated from under their feet, penetrating into their boots. Occasionally, steam would fountain out from the cracks in the rock, escaping in quick bursts, then falling deceptively silent. The ground shook gently under their footsteps, puffing dust into the air.
The cloud continued to swirl in a lazy rhythm. If he looked closely, Link could catch the sight of dark birds, their wings clipped unnaturally, daring to fly at the edge of the mass, dead animals hanging limply from their claws. Other shapes flickered in the sky, too. Winged shapes, but far too large to be animals. Link turned away, disturbed.
His mind wandered as the hours passed. For the first time in days, he thought of Mystral. A dull emptiness gnawed at one corner of his soul. She was lost to him now. Link didn't know where she was or if she even still lived. Almost instinctively he let his hand touch his heart, a whispered prayer flying from his lips. It was all out of his hands. He had to trust in other, unseen forces to make sure she was safe. Still, the feeling of helplessness almost drowned him.
Quickly he let his thoughts focus on Zelda. This time a sharp wince came to his heart, followed immediately by a surge of determination. He had an idea where she was. He had a guide to take him there. Hope was not lost. Now his hand curled into a fist. His mind sharpened, energy flowing into his limbs, and he took in a deep breath, blinking as though he'd just awoken from a deep sleep. No, hope isn't lost. Unless, of course, you happen to be a red-haired bandit woman. A smile came to his lips, and he almost laughed.
He let his gaze sweep out across the Valley, wondering where exactly his friend was. There was so much ground to cover, so many places a girl could get lost in, and Link suddenly felt very small. He hoped, childishly, that he'd be able to sense her presence somehow, that his heart would be able to connect to hers. He waited, looking for that faint spark of recognition. Smile for me, Zelda.
The earth shifted suddenly under their feet, rocks tumbling over the edge with a clatter, and they both slipped, Link falling towards the cliff face, Harlequin spinning out towards the abyss. The bandit shrieked, his heels digging uselessly into the ground, and he slowly fell backwards, his arms flailing. Link spun, his boots gouging the earth, and swung out his arm. Swiftly his fingers curled around the bandit's wrist, feeling the hard bite of the man's bracelet dig into his skin, and tugged, pulling Jack to safety.
They collapsed, gasping for breath. The warm sense of relief washed over them. After a while, the bandit began to giggle. "You know why I told you I'd lost my family, mister?"
Link found the question curious, but had no answer. "No. Why?"
"I wanted to see if you had a good heart," Harlequin replied, his eyes twinkling. "Wanted to see if you'd take pity."
"And, do I?" the assassin replied, not really interested. "Do I have a good heart?"
Jack rubbed his chin, his hand still trembling from his brush with death. "I think maybe you do."
A smile tugged at Link's mouth as he stood. "Maybe?"
Harlequin shrugged, brushing himself down as they continued down the trail. "Maybe."
Their steps quickened as the path became steeper near the bottom. It merged into the Valley floor where, curiously, tufts of grass grew and flowers bloomed. Thick stakes had been driven into the ground, at the top of which hung old, battered lamps, the glass cracked and the metal dented. Ahead they saw the faint outlines of a few buildings and the faint murmur of voices floated towards them.
"Where exactly are these slave traders?" Link asked, leaning towards the bandit, his hand dropping to his crossbow.
Harlequin shuffled ahead, peering into the distance. "At the far side of the Valley," he replied. Noticing the look Link was giving him, he added, "I thought we'd stop in one of the villages. Rest, eat…the things normal people do?" His eyes took on a desperate sheen. "Or don't Spirits of Death feel hungry or tired?"
The words triggered a reaction in Link's body. Suddenly, his eyes felt heavy with fatigue and his stomach growled for the juice of roasted meat. He winced, trying to bat away the distraction. "Are the people friendly?"
Glancing at him with amusement, Harlequin smiled, but made no comment. The ground beneath them seemed to swirl and froth, a reflection of the agitated cloud above them. The gloom stained everything here, the carts, the houses, the shops, but most of all the people. Their faces seemed to droop, stretching down towards the earth. Their eyes though, Link noticed, sparkled with intelligence, diamond-hard shards of light that considered the newcomers with detached curiosity. No one approached the two of them. No one spoke to them. But Link knew that they were being watched very carefully.
Disfigured children ran in the streets, their happy laughter a sharp contrast to their twisted bodies. Women, equally hideous with wild hair and misshapen bones, chased them, voices mixed with anger and delight. Other people stayed in the shadows, wrapped in rags and laying in pools of grime and thick liquid. One man in particular kept his eyes firmly on Link. The young assassin grimaced, finding it unnerving. There was something else here, too, something in the air that whispered danger to his instincts. He understood it instantly. Outsiders were not welcome here. No, he corrected himself. Newcomers were not welcome. At least, not yet.
Despite the dimness, it was lively here. People filled the worn streets, bustling with activity. Link's eyes, searching for light in the murky darkness, were drawn to a blacksmiths, the sweat-soaked man hammering a glowing molten piece of metal into shape. It was almost hypnotic – the steady clank of metal on metal, the cloud of sparks that burst into life, then quickly faded away with each strike. Finally looking away, they stopped in front of an inn, the rusted sign creaking as the breeze pushed it to and fro. Link couldn't make out the name, the paint having faded over time.
Harlequin gazed around, a smile on his face. "The girls here are quite something, eh mister?"
Link cocked an eyebrow. "They're certainly 'things,' I'll give you that."
The bandit let out a breath. "You're very shallow, you know that?"
"Find us some food, Harlequin," the Hylian replied, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. He looked around, his eyes darting from building to building, noticing every open door, lingering on every face and remembering every path that led to the outside. He paused, thinking. A decision was made. "We won't be staying here. We'll camp in the Valley."
"Stop that."
Link turned to him. "Stop what?"
"Stop scrutinising everything," the bandit replied. "They'll be able to tell you're an assassin from a league away."
The youngster had to stop himself from gaping in shock. Had he so quickly lost his skills? "You could tell?"
A knowing smile spread across Harlequin's face. "I know a lot about you assassins, mister."
And, once more, the young bandit had regained the advantage in their little game of wits. Link looked away quickly, not wanting to show how much he'd been caught off guard.
Something shuffled below them. "A penny for an old man?"
Link almost jumped back in shock. A small, tattered shape lay on the floor, clinging to the shadows. The old beggar that had been watching them from a distance had somehow materialised at their feet. The man looked healthy enough. He could earn his own way through life. Link hissed, turning away.
"Abandoning those in need," the beggar croaked. "And you think you're purifying your heart."
Link stopped short, his temples throbbing. Cold sweat sprung up on his neck, his vision blurring and the sounds from the village fading. Slowly, throwing Harlequin a careful glance in the process, he turned back. His eyes locked with the beggar's. He was struck by the cool sense of complete peace that gazed back at him. "What did you say?"
The beggar gave a little snort – Link couldn't tell whether it was amusement or contempt. "I've been expecting you, young Link," the old man said. "You're late."
The assassin kept his face rigid, hoping he hadn't betrayed his surprise, while Harlequin gasped, sinking to his knees, his mouth opening in shock. "A Teacher."
Letting his eyes flick from the bandit to the beggar, Link said, "Another 'wise old man?'"
The Teacher fixed a pointed stare on him. Link felt something cold touch his face, then seep into his skin, piercing his soul. Invisible sparks crackled in the air, and he felt the world shift ever so slightly, as though it were unravelling in front of his eyes. He dug his heels into the ground to stop himself from stumbling. He sensed something, not with his eyes, but with his heart. Energy throbbed in the man before him, a crackling conduit that, Link guessed, connected one world with another. How he'd come to this conclusion, he didn't know. It just felt correct.
"Signposts along the way," the beggar said. "You'd do well to pay them heed." He looked at him curiously, then spoke in soft, measured tones, "You feel it, don't you? You do have it within you to bridge the gap."
He didn't want to listen to this. He didn't have the time. Motioning at Harlequin, he turned away. "We have to go."
The bandit gazed up at him, his eyes wide with reverence. Link wanted to kick him. "Don't you know who this is?" Jack gasped. "Mister, don't you realise how rare it is to meet someone like this?"
Trying to force some anger into his eyes, the youngster glared at Harlequin. "I've met a man who has a Sea Serpent for a pet. I've met a Tree that talks and wants to me to kill my friends." He felt his jaw twitch as the emotions bubbled through him. "I'm in no mood to listen to someone who will, no doubt, either mock me or tell me something that I'll always regret."
He tried to move away, but Harlequin shuffled towards him on his knees, reaching out in desperation. His bracelet slipped out from under his sleeve and caught the light of one of the lamps, making the chain sparkle. "Don't go, mister," he begged. "I'd wager my life that he could help us find your girly."
"And your life is worth…?" A slight tang dropped onto his tongue, and even Link was surprised at the harshness in his own voice. He closed his eyes as soon as he saw the hurt flashing across the bandit's face. Taking in a deep breath, he caught the scent of charred meat and boiled vegetables, mixing with the aroma of freshly baked bread and melted butter. His mouth watered. A good meal. That's what he needed. He didn't need to think. Thinking reminded him of Zelda, of Mystral, of Jonah and a million dead faces that he couldn't put a name to.
"If not a penny for an old man." The beggar had spoken again. Was that amusement in his voice? "How about a minute? Nothing could possibly change in that short space of time, could it?"
People hurried past them, consumed in their own worlds. No one paid them any attention. Link wondered if they could see the beggar at all, considered his thoughts for a moment, then wondered if he himself had gone mad. He looked at the squat old man, dirt lining his clothes, wrinkles etched into his face. What could someone like this teach anybody? And why was it that people like this always picked him as a potential student. Sighing, Link held out his palms in defeat. He felt his heart - his traitorous heart - tug and lurch, as though it were drawn towards the beggar. There was something strange about this so-called Teacher, an inner aura that seemed to be more than what his outer form indicated. Link shook his head. Now he was starting to think like Zelda.
"Would you like me to organise your thoughts?" the old man said. Link cocked his head to one side, curious. The Teacher must have guessed at Link's feelings from the look on his face. "Would you like to peek into another world?"
Link still couldn't draw his gaze away from the quiet serenity that swam in the Teacher's eyes. It was a sea of calm that also hinted at the spark of power. Controlled power. Everything else faded away from the assassin's consciousness. All he could think of, all he could focus on, was this strange old man dressed in rags, sitting at his feet. "What do you mean?"
A smile flashed across the beggar's face. "Let me show you the true reality of things," he said. He swung his arm out in a swift movement, and Link felt himself be pushed back, the air leaving his lungs.
Water fell across Link's vision, every muscle in his body tightening, and the world slowed, blurred, then screeched to a halt. Literally screeched to a halt, as though the hands of Time itself had froze. The people around him – Harlequin, the Teacher, the villagers – were nothing more than shimmering shadows, streams of light peeling off their forms and floating into the air. One had lifted a foot up to take a step, but never had the chance to put it down again. Another had opened his mouth, ready to take a bite from a roll of bread, but the food never reached his lips. Here he saw a woman bent over scolding a child. There he saw a man forever caught with an angry scowl.
Tension bit at him. This wasn't a situation he'd ever prepared for. "What's happening?" the assassin whispered.
The Teacher's voice descended on him from all six directions, wrapping around his body and soul. "Our world is an intricate web balanced precariously on the edge," he said. "The slightest action can send ripples through that web, even without us realising it."
Confusion battered at Link's mind. He was in no mood for a mystical sermon.
"My dear friend." Oddly, Link was touched by the sincerity in the man's voice. He felt an unseen hand curl around his own. The skin was cool, and it spread tendrils of peace through his soul, stilling the turbulence in his heart. "This isn't superstitious nonsense. This is knowledge that was taught to all when the world was young. Those weak in faith and character turned to magic. Those stronger souls put their trust in the Divine and found everything they needed within their own selves."
Silence hung in the air, as though it were a physical weight. Link realised that he had little choice but to hear the man out. "Go on."
The Teacher's voice returned. "Watch."
Link frowned as a shape appeared, twisted, turned, then flowed upright until he saw a man, features knotted in anger. Another shape appeared, pulsing and bulging, until it stabilised, too. A child. The man's head snapped towards the child, his jaws working furiously. Even though he heard no sounds, Link could still understand what was going on.
"A man says an angry word to a child," the Teacher said. "The child, in turn, feels the scolding undeserved. He then flees, the hurt staining his heart, and finds his most beloved friend. Sick and tired of the world – at least in his eyes – he goads his friend into scaring some cuccos with a few well-aimed rocks. The sharp stones hit home, scaring the birds, who then fly out in front of an oncoming cart, confusing the driver. The cart overturns, rolls, smashing into the ground below. All the occupants die. The boy runs to survey the carnage, his heart quaking with fear. He breaks open the door to the cart only to find the dead form of his own mother."
Link's mouth pursed into a thin line. "That's the worst possible situation," he muttered. "More than likely the child would have let out his frustrations some other way and nothing so drastic would have occurred."
"Perhaps," the Teacher replied. "Let's go back. Things happen as you describe. But the child's father constantly bullies him, taunts him, destroys his confidence. The boy grows up to become a shell of the person he could have been. He marries. He has children. He promises himself that he won't make the mistake his father made. But the moment his own child makes a blunder he flies into a fury, beginning the cycle once again."
"Actions have reactions," the Hylian replied. "I understand that. But there's no guarantee that things would turn out exactly the way you say they would."
"Everything we do affects others in some way or form. It could be the smallest of influences or it could be the greatest. Someone snaps a branch of a tree, spraying its seed into the air. The seed lands far from its original destination, buries itself into the soil and sprouts. Summers later it is a tree, too…and a hungry woman approaches, delighting in the fruit that there finds there."
The words swam in Link's heart. There was something there, some vague kernel of wisdom that he thought he should be able to grasp. His cynicism cut it to ribbons instantly. "Random actions. We can't be held responsible for that."
"We can't?" the Teacher replied. "Don't you understand what life is? What a tremendous burden it is? Without wisdom, without reflection, without deliberation, we're nothing more than animals." Link frowned. Zelda had said the same thing to him before.
Shapes shifted, another pair of blurs appearing. A woman. A man. The woman was huddled in a corner, wearing nothing more than tattered rags. The man approaches her, and she casts him a wary glance. "He is taking pity on her," the Teacher said. "He gives of his wealth freely. An act of charity to ease his mind. The woman is a whore. She is shocked by the gift, thinking that he must want something in return. It is, after all, the way things work in her world. Humbled when she realises the selflessness of a stranger, she vows to change her ways, rectifying her life and saving her soul."
Still Link wasn't convinced. "She could have changed at any moment in her life."
"Could she?" the Teacher asked. "She was cast on the streets, penniless. Wherever she turned she found brutality and cruelty. Instead of sinking in despair, she adapts to it, finding her daily bread at the cost of her own body. She knew nothing else. It was what she'd been taught as the way of the world. All she needed was someone to show her…an alternative. A different way to think, to act."
Link waited, pondering. "I don't understand what you're trying to say."
He felt another wave of motion wash over him. The landscape changed. The sky began to bleed, and dark, liquid shapes formed and hung from his neck. Crystal globes of light hovered nearby. Link gaped at the shadows clinging to him, tried to claw them off with his fingers, but failed. They were stuck fast, like a yoke.
The Teacher spoke. "What I am trying to say, young Link," he said, "is that life is a gift and with that gift comes responsibility. We are, all of us, shafts of divine light with the power within ourselves to rise above our animal natures and, with help from Above, move the very mountains themselves. Of course, you can't have complete access to the Unseen; that's only for the Divine itself. At the same time, however, we have the ability to become tyrants, forcing our will onto others, spreading pain and misery, living only to satisfy our most basic desires. You are responsible for every action you make – and you have to bear the consequences of those very same actions. The crystals you see before you are your selfless deeds given form. The shadows you see is the evil you did given form. Each affects you in their own way – the crystals will raise you higher until you become light itself, while the shadows will drown you in their darkness both in this world and the next. The choice, as ever, is yours."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you want to purify your heart," the Teacher said. "You think you can do it by yourself. You can't. You know your potential and you wish to grasp it. You know your shadows and you wish to slay them. You haven't yet learned the immense weight of responsibility that goes with being alive. You haven't yet learned to control the evil within you. Until you do that, you'll forever remain a child, only doing 'good' because it satisfies your ego's need to be appreciated by others, and only doing 'evil' because it satisfies your ego's need for vengeance."
"Who are you?"
"I am a Boneyard Warrior." Link blinked. Zelda had mentioned them before they'd visited the weed, spoken about them in a hushed voice. "You must stay with me and I will teach you the path. Words that come from the heart always affect another's heart. Words that come from a pure heart can polish the mirror of a rusted heart. Words and deeds that come from the ego are empty, hollow, and easily recognised as insincere. Everyone has an inner eye. Not everyone can open that eye. I'll teach you to open yours, clean the dirt that irritates it, and you'll become the person you were always meant to be."
"I can't." Link said. He was tempted, though. The words had awoken something within him, the always-out-of-reach desire to be better than what he'd become. It was a lifeline – a way out from the faces that haunted him every time he tried to sleep. But he couldn't possibly stay. "I have to find Zelda."
"By killing and injuring? By shattering families, ending livelihoods?" The Teacher's voice took on a stern quality.
"Some things can't be helped," Link replied. In the corner of his mind, it struck him as curious that the Teacher implicitly knew who Zelda was. Another part of him wondered why he was even listening to the old man. There was something in the Teacher's voice, however, something overpowering that brushed aside all doubts. "Some people don't deserve the gift you speak of."
"Perhaps. But you can learn how to avoid that as much as possible. You can learn how to discriminate between the truly depraved and the truly confused."
"By opening my heart's eye?" He felt foolish even saying the words and, yet, he also felt certain that this would be something that Zelda would have passionately taken hold of. He felt torn, his soul at a crossroads. If anyone else had told him such things, he'd have laughed and walked away. But here this old man was, displaying the full fruits of his abilities. Abilities that, he claimed, came from chiselling the rock of his heart into a pure diamond, not because it was the 'right' thing to do, but because it was what he was meant to do. Still. This was one thing he didn't want to do because of Zelda or Mystral or anybody else. If he did this, he'd do it for himself and the One, Unseen. To prove that he could.
"Yes," the Teacher said. "Once you conquer yourself, you'll fear no man or beast." Before Link could reply, he saw a beam of light burst from the ground, dazzling and beautiful, and unwavering in its intensity. A deep hunger opened in his heart, and he could sense the traces of joy that pulsed from within the luminous pillar. The Teacher spoke again, "You can choose to be light or choose to be darkness. You will, being Hylian, always have a mix of the two. But you can let one control the other. I cannot change your basic nature, but I can teach you to use the shadows within you only when they're necessary and to use the light within you only when it is truly appropriate. In short, you'll turn your shadows into righteousness, and your light into purity. Two paths before you, young Link – shadows or light."
"So there is a choice?" Again, it sounded ridiculously far-fetched. Was it possible to reach such a state? He didn't want to make a decision like this now. He needed time to think and, more importantly, he needed to find Zelda first.
"You have to desire it. With sincerity and determination." The Teacher's ghostly voice floated in the air, seemingly able to read his mind. Dimly, Link was aware that his question had been ignored. "It takes time and effort. But my fellow Warriors and I achieved it. As did the First."
"The First?" Link asked.
Again, the Teacher changed track. "Zelda will be safe for the time being, let me assure you," he said. "If you stay with me you can learn how to help her, how to free her when the time comes." A pause, the words lingering in the air. "You'll stay if you truly love her."
"But I don't-"
"You do."
And, with that, Link fell into silence, the sheer power put into those two simple words numbing his tongue. He caught a slither of movement from beyond. The column of light shattered, then spread outwards, flooding through Link's body as though someone had breathed pure contentment into his soul. He gasped, his heart shuddering, his mind feeling as though he'd been drenched in an ocean of bliss. "What is it?"
"That is the First," the Teacher replied wryly. "That is the Hero of Time."