Chapter 21

Time will expand as you learn...a minute will seem like an hour...an hour like a day....a day like a week...a week like a century. I accelerated the process, and I've given you the tools...now it's up to you utilise both your time and those selfsame tools.

The Teacher's words rolled around Link's mind as he sat, cross-legged, perched upon the roof of one of the stone buildings of the Village of the Lost. His tongue buzzed, and his heart hummed. The words rolling around his mouth were the names of the Divine, each with their own special power, each with their own connection to the Unseen, and each brought his heart and soul up from the depths.

His heart throbbed with light, a blossoming sweetness of spirit that connected him to the whole world, and then to the One Himself. The presence of the Divine was awe-inspiring in itself, but also comforting, making Link realise how tightly-knit his own life was to his surroundings. It was as though a dark shroud had been lifted from his eyes, and now his sight was piercing. He sensed the One as He pushed the breeze to make the grass flutter, as He pulled the sun up from its slumber and as He, more intimately, permitted Link's heart to beat one thump at a time. The effect was intoxicating, but moreso was the spark of power he now felt in his own heart. He felt that if he could push with his soul, he too could influence what was going on around him. But only, Link realised, if the One permitted it.

It was a strange sensation, and it had been one that taken a lot of effort to achieve. The Teacher had taught him that before the creation of the world, all creatures had been gathered and been infused with a spirit and an ego. A choice was then placed before them as they entered their lives -do they obey their spirit that connected them to the One, or do they follow their ego, which made them cling to their selfish, petty desires? The One Himself had had many names and forms - some thought Him three, others believed him to be female. In truth, the Teacher taught, He was none of those things, His essence too immense to be understood. "Even calling Him 'He'," the Teacher remarked, "is not neccesary. But," he added with a wry smile, "it's better than referring to Him as 'It'."

Link, however, did not bother himself with details. Whether or not the Teacher's tale was true or a version of the truth, he did not care either. What mattered was that what he was being taught actually worked, though it had taken him a while to grasp it. The Teacher would have him work all hours of the day and night, doing nothing except serve the people. He would send Link to the most grotesque of the Lost to assist in their most basic functions. This, the Teacher said, was to show him to look beyond outer forms. Other times, the Teacher would ask him to do something at times which Link found the most inconvenient - times when he desperately needed to rest, or to eat, or just to sit and reflect. The Teacher accepted no excuses. "Slay your ego," he said, "and let your spirit free."

And, without him even knowing it, Link began to change. The sincere and heartfelt thanks he received from those he helped softened the ice that made up his heart. Mostly, it came from the children, whose expressions of pure delight struck him to the core, disturbing him. As he involved himself more and more in the life of the village, Link saw how much of a bubble his own life had been - he had never been able to see more than beyond the end of his and Mystral's immediate needs. That other people felt the same as him, shared the same worries, and had the same hopes and fears was like a bolt of lightening to his mind. Eventually, he no longer cared whether he was thanked or, as sometimes was the case, reviled. His satisfaction came from being able to still his own desires to serve others. It refreshed his heart, now that he knew that he didn't have to give in to all his impulses; now that he knew that he was far better than an animal.

He realised now that Zelda had been right all along. Every person did have a pure core, every thing did had have a right to life. Yet, throughout history, people had made the wrong choices, giving in to their selfish impulses and tyrannizing both themselves and others. They oppressed themselves by not living up to the potential that their life had given them. They oppressed others by seeing them as means to satisfy their own lusts.

He realised, too, that Zelda was the one that had set this all in motion. The Teacher had only completed what she had started.

Thinking of Zelda was bittersweet. He ached to see her again, to tell her that his outlook now matched hers, but at the same time the Teacher's words haunted him, like hooks in his heart. "You sacrifice your own needs," he said, "for the needs of others. Had everyone in the world followed this, instead of the opposite, then there would be much harmony in our lives." Link mused over this. His own need was to be with Zelda - hopefully, as honour demanded, to one day unite with her in marriage. A smile came to his lips at that - the childish hope in his heart embarrassed him. Yet, at the same time, for the world to continue, Zelda had to die. It was a conundrum that he was not yet willing to face.

Link opened his eyes to find that the landscape had changed. Dark clouds rolled in the distance, throwing churning shadows onto the barren ground. Lightening flashed from above, the sky winking an incandescent blue. He looked down to find his blade laying in front of him. This was the final thing that the Teacher had given him - the ability to fight with a purpose. The world was not perfect, and those that had subdued their egos had to defend others from those that let their egos run free.

A gust of wind struck his face as he mused, throwing grit and ice against his skin. He picked up the sword, its polished steel glimmering under the flashes of light. "This," the Teacher had said, "is the Master Sword. This is your heritage." The blade felt weighty, as though it carried a power all of its own, and the edges were still sharp - a startling feat for a weapon that had supposedly existed for centuries.

The Teacher had told him that the sword had belonged to the Hero of Time himself. Despite Link's constant prodding, his mentor refused to reveal what he knew about the Hylian's ancestor; so much so that the former assassin missed Fran bitterly and wished he had taken the time and patience to listen to the old man. Another smile came to him now. Not only would Zelda be pleasantly surprised by his 'conversion,' but so would Fran. A hole opened deep inside as, at that moment, he missed all his friends intensely. He let the feeling pass.

Link stood, throwing one last look at his strange surroundings, still bubbling with a life of its own. So. The Village has disappeared. The people had gone. The sun, which should be heralding a new day now, had vanished. This was clearly another test in a series of tests that the Teacher had prepared for him. Stilling the anxiety in his heart, Link steeled himself for what was to come.

His mind drifted back to the Test he had performed for the Assassin's League the night before the Coronation. It seemed like so long ago now. It probably was - Link felt like he had lived in the Village of the Lost for many, many summers. He remembered himself back then - impulsive, naive and ignorant - and felt a wave of shame. So much had changed.

Many a time he had wanted to simply leave. He still had to find Mystral and Zelda, if they even lived, but the Teacher would not permit it. He assured the former assassin that both were safe, and that Link had to trust in the One. Reluctantly, the young Hylian agreed. There was a time and a place for everything - his meeting with destiny could neither be put off, nor hastened.

Opening the door to the stairway that led back down, Link entered, his senses alert. What he found was not a flight of stairs, no - he found himself in a room, its air worn out as though nothing fresh had entered it for decades, with no lamps or source of light at all. He closed the door behind him, letting the darkness fall.

Link gripped the Master Sword and waited. No sound came. Closing his eyes, he pushed outward with his heart, connecting to the Unseen and probing all the corners and the cracks of his new surroundings. First, he found nothing, only an empty hollowness that almost overwhelmed him with its loneliness had he not kept the One focused in his mind. His ability was limited - only the One had access to all knowledge - but Link could still detect others who were in close proximity to him. Find them, and also ascertain whether their hearts were free or chained by their desires.

He focused the eye of his heart in a slow, circular patter around the room. Still nothing. Another empty spot passed. And another. And...

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A beating heart shone out like a beacon, black from the many stains of evil that encrusted it.

"Show yourself," Link whispered, raising his sword to a defensive position and digging his heels in.

The newcomer - a male, Link realised - did not reply, except to move in closer, swinging what Link knew to be a sword of his own.

Hot, glowing sparks burst out of the darkness as the two blades collided, fizzling away into nothingness just as quickly as they had appeared. Link disengaged, swinging around in a wide arc, knowing that the man was matching the move. Again the two swords collided with each other, again red sparks sizzled, singeing the air.

They fought on, a parry here, a jab there, a strike here, a deflection there. The only sign of their tussle were the random winks of flame that popped in and out of existence.

Swords locked as they reached a stalemate. A pause followed, each contemplating their next move. Metal slid against metal as they broke free again. Link had enough to time realise that the other man's heart was beating wildly now, and knew that another swing was coming. The Hylian ducked, feeling the blade slice the air above his head, then fell back on his hands, his sword clanging to the ground, and threw his legs up, his boots cracking into the man's jaw.

The darkness shattered and Link found himself in a field, flowers of myriad colours surrounding him, the sun beating down on his back, making his tunic sticky with sweat. Another illusion.

A grunt from behind him made Link spin around. Facing him, its arms covered in armour, its belly quivering with flab, was a drooling creature that the Teacher had once told him was called a Goron. Coal-black eyes fixed Link with hatred, as saliva hung from its snarling mouth.

"A little one," it growled. "You cannot best me. I am the Butcher of Beladose, the Slayer of Sendon; I once took on a whole legion of the King's soldiers and left behind me a bloodbath with nary a scratch on my own, chiselled physique."

Link let out a breath, calming his heart, and swung his sword around to face the monstrosity. "Nice."

A bellow of rage boomed out from the Goron. "Do not mock me," it shouted, "I can eat three of your kind for breakfast."

Link's eyes flicked down to the creature's quivering stomach. "It seems like you've already had a dozen."

The taunts were calculated. Before, in his 'old' life, Link would have intended them as wounds, sharp words that covered not only his own anxiety, but also revealed the hatred he had for life. This time they were just a ploy to enrage the beast into a clumsy attack.

It worked. Roaring, the Goron sprang forward, it's meaty arms lunging for the young Hylian. Link dodged the attack easily, spinning on his heels. He put one foot forward, preparing for an attack and then....froze, his eyes bulging as he realised his mistake. So confident had he been that he'd forgotten his own assassin's training to scan his opponent for weapons.

The Goron yelled in triumph as it raised its modified crossbow and fired over and over in rapid fashion, a balloon of orange flame expanding and popping again and again.

Link's serenity evaporated instantly, melting like ice flung into a furnace, and the cold stab of fear spiked his heart. Moving only on instinct and the blood pounding in his veins, Link leapt, yelling, as the sharp-tipped hornets screamed through the air towards him. One sliced his shoulder, and another bounced of his ankle. Link landed hard, rolling, his body now a bloody mess. His arm had twisted awkwardly under him.

Scrambling for cover in amongst the tall reeds, Link heard the Goron laugh, and his rage bubbled over. Stalks broke with a snap as the Hylian seethed. It was a wonder that the beast hadn't noticed him yet. Teeth clenched, his wounds now aching, Link reached for his own crossbow, murderous thoughts flashing across his mind. He swung the weapon into position, flicked the switch, and breathed in deeply as the scent of burnt powder overwhelmed his senses, making him giddy. Just like old times.

Link's eyes narrowed. The oaf was stumbling about, completely oblivious to the assassin's presence. Lining up the tip of the steel with the Goron's head, Link could almost the satisfaction he was sure to taste when the arrow split the creature's head.

The thought jolted him back to reality. This was wrong. All wrong. He was fighting, not out of defence, but to satisfy his primal urge for revenge. Closing his eyes, Link slid down into the undergrowth, letting his crossbow drop.

"What's the matter, little boy?" the Goron crowed as he searched for Link's hiding place. "Wet yourself, have you?" Another bellowing laugh followed.

Ashamed that his old self had re-emerged so easily, Link blocked out the words, desperately trying to control his frantic breathing. Slowly, slowly, he regained control - focusing his heart on the One, and realigning himself with the rest of the universe. The Divine Names flew from his lips in whispered breaths, and the effect was instantaneous. Peace descended on his soul, the urgings of his ego vanishing like the remnants of a nightmare slowly fading from memory. The thudding of his heart became more regular, and it felt as though a leaden weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Cautiously Link stood, facing his tormentor. The sharp jabs of his wounds dullled as the Goron finally noticed him.

"Ah ha," the creature said, smug satisfaction overflowing from his voice. "Decided to fight and die, eh?"

Link raised his sword. "Let's try that again," he whispered. "I was momentarily distracted by the hypnotic swaying of your bloated torso."

Screaming with rage, the Goron fired off a volley of arrows once again, his hand trembling from left to right.

This time Link was ready. He connected to the world, his heart now a conduit between the Seen and Unseen realms. He felt the arrows tear through the atmosphere, felt their grainy wood and steel tips, tasted the wind driving them onwards. Link moved, quicker than an eye could follow. His sword was a shimmering metallic blur as he swung left and right, up and down, around and around, deflecting every single arrow that zinged into his blade.

Not even pausing for breath, the young Hylian somersaulted forwards, landing in front of the Goron and, with one fluid movement, swung his blade into the creature's armour. The Goron, shock coating its eyes, deflected the first blow, but Link rode the momentum, swinging around again and slicing through the metal protecting the creature's left arm. Stumbling back, the Goron reached back, drew his own sword, and swung it downwards, the steel catching the sun's light in a sharp, dazzling flash.

Link was too quick. Heart pounding and soul soaring, the former assassin swung his own blade up to meet the attack. Such was the strength in Link's attack that the Goron's sword flew from its fingers. It whirled in the air for a heartbeat, then fell back down to earth. The Hylian leapt up, caught the flying weapon, and spun over the flabby creature to land right behind him. Sensing victory, Link swung both swords around in a wide arc, hoping to strike straight through -

- the Goron vanished, as did the field, the flowers and the sun. The Teacher stood before him, a wide grin etched on his face. "Bravo!" he said, clapping. "Nicely done!"

Link bowed his head slightly, trying to catch his breath. He spun his blade, chopping the air, then slid the weapon back into its sheath with a metallic whisper. "Thank you." He tried not to feel any pleasure at his mentor's compliments. Even that, he knew, was just the whispers of the ego.

"Come," the Teacher said, gently guiding Link by the arm. "The Village Elders are holding a meeting. There are important things to be discussed."

Hot wax dripped from the candles that lined the corridors as Link followed the Teacher down to where the Elders usually met. He was relieved to see that his wounds, too, were nothing but an illusion. "Where's Harlequin?" he asked.

The Teacher dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "Oh, making himself useful, I'm sure," he said. "Or should that be," he pondered, frowning, "he's making a nuisance of himself as usual." He blinked, then shook his head. "Never mind."

Link smiled. Harlequin had been his most faithful companion during his stay in the Village. Never once complaining about his lot in life, and always there to lend a hand whenever the Teacher demanded something, Link knew that he had a lot to learn from his bandit friend.

The Teacher came to a sudden stop, churning up dust in the process, and opened a door. "Wait here," he said, "I have something to give you."

Eyebrows raised, Link did as he was told, listening to the Teacher rummage about in the room. Finally he appeared, carrying a length of cloth in his arms. Link gasped as he realised what it was. "A cloak of initiation?" he said, not quite trusting his eyes.

The Teacher smiled and nodded, holding the cloak out him. Gingerly, Link took it, feeling the smooth velvet under his fingers. Black on the outside and lined emerald green on the inside, the cloak was given to those who had reached the lower levels of the Path. Whoever wore one was now recognised as a Boneyward Warrior, though to reach the status of a 'Teacher,' would still take many many summers.

Shock and joy fought in Link's heart. He stumbled over his words. "I don't deserve this." He pushed the cloak back. "I'm not ready."

The Teacher fixed him with a stern gaze. "I am to judge who is ready or not," he said softly. "And you, dear Link, are very much ready."

With trembling hands, the young Hylian fixed the cloak to his shoulders and then, in a moment of spontaneous emotion, grabbed the Teacher in a fierce hug. A sense of humbling relief swirled through his soul. Had he now, after all he'd done, been redeemed? He blotted the treacherous thought out as quickly as it appeared. No, of course not. But he was not going to let that spoil this movement. He desperately wished Zelda were here to share this with him.

The Teacher laughed, ruffling the youngster's hair. "Come," he said. "Let us see what awaits in the Council Chamber."

It did not take them long to reach their destination. They strode into the circular room, their cloaks flapping behind them, and caught the attention of everyone sitting on the floor around their Chief. Some bowed their heads in respect, others gasped at Link's new status, while yet more merely raised their eyebrows.

A curtain of smoke hung in the air, the results of too many people puffing on too many pipes. Link and the Teacher took their place in the circle, their presence a balm due to the serenity they exuded. Now that he was here, Link wondered what exactly this meeting was about. Usually they focused on petty disputes that the Lost expected the Teacher to arbitrate over, but this time Link sensed something was different. He noticed, as drinks were passed around, that worry lined the faces of those around him. Knitting his gloved fingers, Link waited for the Chief to speak.

The man in question sat in the centre, half his face melted, a sign that he was of the Lost, and chewed on a Cucco bone. Finally, as though realising everyone was here was supposed to be here, he flung the bone into a tin plate, and spoke, but not before belching. "Marauders," he spat. "From the Outer Regions. They keep picking on the outskirts of our village. News has come to me, though, that they're planning a take over." He paused, letting his eyes settle on his audience. "They want this land."

Urgent whispers rushed around the gathering like a forest fire. One of the Elders held up his seven fingers for attention. "What could they possibly want with us?" he asked nervously. "There's nothing here for them. Sometimes they take our livestock. Sometimes," here his voice soured, "they take our women. But aside from that, there is nothing."

"We fight!" someone barked.

"They are too strong," another added in a voice laced with scorn. "They are warriors. We are not."

Another Elder, his nose a mangled wreck, added, "I say let them have it." Fire burned in his eyes as he watched every one in turn. "We're nomadic people. We can somewhere else to live."

A chorus of "Ayes" followed. The Chief turned to the Teacher, indicating for him to speak. Silence fell as all eyes turned to the Boneyard Warriors. A few coughs followed. Link waited expectantly.

To everyone's surprise, especially Link's, the Teacher turned to the Hylian and said, "What do you think?"

The former assassin felt their eyes burn into him and his mind whirled with ideas. Taking in a deep breath, he stilled the turmoil inside, before coming to a decision. He spoke in a soft voice. "This land is your right, as no one but yourselves have possessed it." Pausing, he arranged his thoughts. "It would be wrong to capitulate this to the Marauders just because of their supposed strength. It is not right that they should satisfy their lusts in such a manner." He took in a deep breath. Excitement rose in his chest. "We fight. I can arrange the defences. I will even lead the charge."

The Teacher turned to the Chief. "What say you?"

The leader of the Lost chewed on his lip thoughtfully for a moment. "I say 'aye.'"

Link grinned. "We should not let them win," he added. "It isn't just."

A roar of approval swept the Chamber, and Link was pulled to his feet as the Elders clasped his hands and thumped him on the back. His grin spread wider, his heart bubbling with joy. Looking left and right, he searched for the Teacher. He pushed through the throng as soon as he spotted him, saying, "Did you see that? They actually respect my opinion. This will be a glorious victory, you wait and -"

A swift kick to the shins brought Link to his knees. Confusion and shame burned him, especially as he caught the Elders' laughter. Looking up at the Teacher he demanded, "What was that for?"

"It seems," the Teacher replied, his voice and expression grave. "That someone still needs to keep his ego in check."

And with that, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Link to ponder on his words.