Chapter 25
They followed the meandering trail as it led out of the Valley of Perpetual Night, a canopy of trees, laden green with fresh leaves, protecting them from the elements above. It was a good thing, too, Link realised as he led Harlequin onwards. During the day, as they moved further and further away from the Village of the Lost, he could feel the very chill evaporate, as though driven back. The sun's light grew stronger, and consequently more hotter, the foliage above acting as a barrier, though as the sun tried to push its way through, it filled their path with an eerie emerald hue.
Once it had rained, the water drumming against the leaves, their oval shadows trembling on the ground. Occasional drops broke through, splashing into the piles of perfumed blossom that lay strewn across the undergrowth. The days they spent travelling or sharing stories. Sometimes Link would set Bannock free from his Glimmer Capsule, the bandit marvelling at the sight of the talking bird. The nights, seething with the sound of chirping insects hidden from their eyes, were when Link had time to himself, time to hone his training and consolidate what he had learned.
As Harlequin slept, curled against the ground beside the ashy remains of a fire, Link sat with his eyes closed, mystical words dripping with power rolling around his mouth, and opened himself to the world around. The teeming flow of life, pulsing like a million hearts beating as one, almost overwhelmed him. Here he sensed a small animal, scurrying from rock to rock, there he felt a bird, perched proudly upon a branch, its eyes watchful for any threat to its nest.
Link pushed himself onwards, seeing himself and the world as a speck of dust, as he tried to connect with the One, the source of everything he saw around him. It happened, though not without the usual effort, Link straining to rid himself of his sense of self. The contact was fleeting, but like the spark that kindles a fire it ignited something within him, a sense of unified serenity that was like honey to his heart.
Then, as he'd come to expect, his ego rebelled, reminding him of his weaknessess; his callous murder of Jonah, his drive to hunt down the Harkinian on the night of his Test, his hunger for revenge that saw everyone as meat to be sacrificed to the altar of his desires. All his failings rushed back to him, all the sicknesses of his heart magnified a thousandfold. His bond with the One snapped, and Link found himself flung back, rejected, into his own self once more, surrounded by the mundaneness of his life. Sighing, he realised that it would take him forever to rid himself of the dark suggestions of his soul, and because of that his abilities would always be limited.
The Teacher had told him that those promptings were natural, all part of being alive, all part of the One's plan to see if people would shoot to the highest heights or stubbornly cling to becoming to the lowest of the low. Real strength wasn't in physical prowess, real strength was the strength of the spirit. Link had managed to heed that advice. That is, until he had lied to his mentor about killing Zelda.
Then again, hadn't the Teacher himself said that if Link stayed and trained with him, he would find a way to free Zelda from the curse? Why, then, had his mentor been so insistent that he go through with the original plan?
Like the dying embers of a fire long spent, the Boneyard Warrior felt the last breaths of his mystical flight slip way. It was a good thing, he decided, after searching for something positive to comprehend his experience. It least he himself knew, despite how others now called him 'Hero', that neither he, nor the Teacher, were perfect.
As he let sleep gently pull him down, he caught a shadow of movement from the edge of his vision.
...
The next day they found that the path was leading steeply upwards, the trees falling away in number, and patches of grass sprouting from the earth. The trail widened out, the final few trees peeling away to reveal fields and meadows, and Link and Harlequin found themselves climbing up a hill.
Reaching the summit, Link stopped suddenly, inhaling a sharp breath as he viewed the vista that lay ahead of him. Shimmering crystal blue as the sun beat down on it, and tipped with a halo of sparkling haze through which birds were soaring, there lay, at the bottom of the hill, a large lake, its waves lapping the shore lazily.
The young Hylian felt Harlequin climb up beside. "Never seen anything so beautiful, eh mister?" he said, grinning. "That's Lake Hylia. I'm sure you're not used to admiring the wonders of nature, though."
"I wouldn't say that." Link recalled his time by the waterfall with Zelda, and remembered his promise to show her places that would leave her awestruck. His hand fell to the hilt of his Oath Blade as he felt a twinge to his heart.
In the distance, like some jagged, broken tooth, a shattered mountain stood, the top half of it obliterated, its features faint as though it were a painting. "What's that?" Link asked, motioning with his hand.
The bandit followed his gaze. "Hmm? Oh...that...that's Death Mountain Crater."
Link's heart tightened, a sour taste rising into his mouth. That was his destination. That's where the Golden City lay, the black sword that could end the Cycle resting within. He felt certain that whatever was to come would be resolved there. There had to be answer there - a way to free Zelda from her curse. There had to be.
Suddenly giggling maniacally, Harlequin threw himself to the ground and began rolling down the incline. Link followed, his striding a little more restrained. "What are you doing?" he asked softly as they reached the bottom.
Propping his chin up with one hand, Harlequin gazed up at the Hylian, blades of grass stuck to his forehead and cheek. "I'm enjoying the moment, mister," he said. "You're still cold, you know that?"
Link stared out across the lake, seeing the sun's blurry reflection in the water. "What makes you say that?"
"Your scowl for one thing," the bandit replied. "It's like this." Glancing down, Link saw Harlequin twist his face into an almost comical expression.
"I don't do that! the Hylian said, laughing.
Harlequin shrugged. "No," he admitted, "but you do frown a lot. You should try smiling. The maidens will like you better for it, mister. See!" Again the bandit twisted his face, trying to show Link exactly what he meant.
The Boneyard Warrior looked down at his friend with a stern gaze. "Harlequin," he said. "Only a Poe-possessed girl whose had her eyes gouged out by a rogue cucco would find that attractive. In fact, I'd probably have to question whether she really was a girl." The bandit made a face, prompting another laugh from Link. "Now who's scowling?"
Harlequin rolled over onto his back, now smiling as he soaked in the sun's rays. "I told you you had a good heart," he said, satisfaction in his voice. "I could sense it."
"You reached that revelation when I was threatening you with my crossbow, right?" Link felt a whisper of guilt as he recalled the memory, but pushed it away.
"No," Jack said. "Later." A lull let the soothing sounds of the lake wash over them. "I'd bet you were always the type to look out for your friends, eh mister?"
An image of Jonah's face, pain and shock lining it, flashed into Link's mind. "No," he said. "You're wrong."
Guilt returned, its blunt edge weighing down on his heart. He closed his eyes, trying to focus. It was a pointless emotion. No one could change the past, only regret it, set things right if they could, and vow never to make the same mistakes again. Guilt, on the other hand, was a self-destructive wallowing in old wounds. Again he forced it from his mind, choosing instead to tune himself into the hypnotic sighing of the waves rolling onto the shore. The sounds, coupled with the sheer beauty of the lake itself, made his soul sing.
Seeing that Harlequin had closed his eyes, ending the conversation, Link let his thoughts drift. He wanted to focus on Mystral, ached for it in fact, but wouldn't allow himself the indulgence. To think of only his own ties when greater things were in the balance wasn't right. He just prayed that he'd see her again. Instead, he turned his mindt back to Zelda. He let his heart reach out, trying to find her presence. A smile came to him, then, as he remembered how, when first entering the Valley, he had thought it a childish fantasy that he would be able to connect to her in such a fashion. It shouldn't be too hard now, he mused. Zelda had a purer heart than most, and she should be able to shine out like a beacon. All he received, however, was a faint stirring, covered with shadow, that was emanating not too far from here. At least she was close by. His heart surged at that.
Capitalizing on the emotion, he pushed his soul to touch the lake. Instantly he felt that he was the water; inconsistent, flowing freely, and tugged one way and the other in time with the waxing and waning of the moon. It was a dizzying sensation. He tried to control it, tried to fashion it into some sort of shape - a sculpture perhaps, maybe he could form a liquid sword from it, just to see if he could. It didn't work. The water was too chaotic, too much used to its own independence. It felt like he was trying to tame a wild animal. Link relaxed, disengaging from the connection. Clearly he still had a long way to go.
He sat, hanging his head, feeling fatigued from the whole process. Every time he tried to test his limits he found himself expending too much energy, exhausting him. It just told him that his heart wasn't as pure as he thought, and that he couldn't rely on these skills all the time. He still had to fall back on his own muscle and sweat. It could be many summers yet before he reached the same level as the Teacher.
"What will I do," Harlequin said from beside him, "when you do find your girly, mister? Are you going to let me drift away into the abyss?"
"Isn't that what you wanted?" Link asked. "You said you'd help, then you'd leave."
"But you don't want me to."
The young Hylian considered his words, before speaking slowly. "No, I don't," he admitted. "You've shown me more loyalty than I ever deserved, Jack." His voice dropped a few octaves. "I didn't think loyalty still existed anymore."
Harlequin sat up, stretching. "And you didn't think the Teacher was telling the Truth. Or that, at the beginning, the knowledge he was giving you was worth anything. When will it take you to admit you're wrong?"
Link blinked, surprised at the heat in his friend's words. Is that how he viewed him? "I thought I had admitted it. At least, a few times...and even if my words didn't make it clear, then my actions did." He watched a bird swoop down through the sky, disappear into the haze, then peck the water, gliding back up, a silver fish in its beak. "Harlequin, you don't have to go. You can come and live with me and Mystral and Zelda." He felt his throat tighten from the thick emotions that were coating his words.
The bandit leaned forward, his eyes widening. "Oh no, mister," he gasped. "Oh no, oh no, oh no. That's not what the Teacher said. You think you can save her, don't you? You think you won't have to kill her. Oh, mister, I'm so sorry."
Offering him no reply, Link turned his head slightly to indicate that the conversation was over.
Harlequin gasped, then shot to his feet. "Mister!" Panic made his voice squeak. "There's someone watching us from the top of the hill!"
The Boneyard Warrior neither turned around, nor betrayed any hint of surprise. "I know," he said. "He's been following us for quite a while."
"You know?" Harlequin cried. "Who is he? What does he want?"
"What he wants, I believe, is revenge, primarily by making me suffer, then die. Look closely, Jack," Link replied softly. "Can't you tell who it is?"
There was a pause, then a another gasp. "It's not...it can't..."
"It's Hikirem," Link said, finally pulling himself upright. "It's the Bandit King."
...
The Harkinian safehouse stood silently, hidden in the darkest corner of the Kokiri Quarter. Small animals darted past the door, pausing only to scavenge at the rotted remains of long diseased meat, thrown out long ago, and now wearing a cloak of frost and mould.
Then, without even a hint of a warning, the whole building erupted in a ball of fire, its flames licking the sky; people and animals alike shrieking with fear.
On a nearby rooftop, crouching so that they would not be noticed, Montero, Fran, Mystral and Impa watched.
"We waited too long," the King spat. "I knew it was a mistake to let those fools out. Look what they've brought us."
Mystral turned her attention to him. "How did they find us? Where's Anju, Kafei and Hobert?"
Rolling his eyes, Montero hissed. "They're dead, woman." He would have taken satisfaction in the way the Hylian woman raised her hand to her mouth in shock had not Impa pierced him with a glare. Why didn't anyone tell him that being a monarch was so difficult? He took the thought back -someone had told him. And that person was now dead, his heart brutally torn out. No matter what he felt about his father, he knew that no one deserved to die like that.
He softened his expression as he turned back to Mystral. "It's my fault. I should have been more strict on who I let out of the safehouse."
The others looked at him, wearing expressions of mild surprise. Montero turned away, not wanting to give them too much to gloat about. An admission of failure was enough for them - they didn't need to see him look ashamed, too.
It burned him that his reign had been such a dismal failure. He'd scorned his father's methods, hated how he pandered to the whims of the people. Now, it seemed clear to Montero that that should have been his own pattern to adopt. Not for the sake of the people, of course, but to secure his own power. He had the whole of Greater Calatia; why had he become so seduced with the idea of possessing the Triforce? And worse, why had he listened to the usurper, Servion, as his whispers added fuel to that desire? Montero grimaced - what a complete fool he had been.
It was then, surprising even his own self, that the King felt a stirring in his heart, a longing to fill a part of himself that he had suddenly found empty. Montero realised, almost with a jolt, that he was missing his father.
"So," Fran said, drawing the King's attention back to their situation. "What now?" His eyes found Montero. "We've been waiting for your grand armies for days now. They haven't come, laddie, and it looks to me that they've deserted us."
The King ignored the informal address in Fran's words. Despite their constant bickering, Montero had come to respect the Hylian hunter. The man had a cool head, a patient heart and the wisdom born from many summers of experience. "Perhaps Servion has something to do with it," he offered.
A wry smile crossed the Hylian's face. "Oh, I'm sure he does. The question is - what do we do about it?"
"We still have these," Montero said, nodding down at the sack that bulged with their packages of explosive powder. "We can still annoy them, even if we can't hurt them."
Impa shook her head. "We'd be killed just attempting it." She slapped her leg in frustration. "I hate this. I hate this hiding and running. I want to hit something."
The King smiled. They still had the fight left in them. That, at least, was a crumb of comfort.
"Do you think..." Mystral said, her words slow as she thought them through. "Do you think that...if what they say about Link being the 'Hero' is true...that he'll come for us?"
Montero snorted, holding his palms out. "Look at my city! It's overrun and my people are living in fear. One boy isn't going to change that."
Fran looked at him. "Your people?"
"Yes," the King replied, his eyes thinning to slits as he dared the Hylian to contradict him. "My people." He glanced down at the others. "All of them. No matter how much Servion has either oppressed them or deluded them."
"I'm glad to hear that," the hunter replied.
The King realised that he had meant his words, too. He would find a way to salvage his reign, find a way to accomplish something that even his father couldn't. He would try, as soon as he had deposed of Servion, he would try to unite all the races of Greater Calatia under one banner. It would, he knew, be a nigh on impossible task, especially after all that had transpired, but it was all he had left to make his mark on history. A treacherous thought trickled into his heart, whispering that it would be a lot easier had he possessed the Triforce. Angrily, the Gerudo pushed it down deep into his soul, not letting his mind pay it any attention.
As he dwelled on his plans, Montero wondered exactly when his change of heart had occurred? Had his time cooped up in the safehouse with all these Hylians affected him that much?
"Fran?" Mystral asked, her hair falling across her face. None of them, Montero realised, had had the chance to really take care of themselves. He wondered how he himself looked. After all, he was still the King - it wouldn't do for him to look like a commoner.
"Aye, lassie," the Hylian replied, gazing thoughtfully out across the city. "I don't know if Link will come for us. I don't know what fate has planned for him. Usually, he has his own...situation to deal with."
The King frowned. Newfound respect he may have, but the hunter had an irritating habit of speaking in cryptic tongues. "Usually? What do you mean, man? This has never happened before."
"Not to you, maybe," Fran replied, his voice soft. "Not to this 'Link' either."
Before Montero could indignantly demand an explanation, Impa shot up, pointing. "Look!"
They all squinted, following her gaze. At first, the King could see nothing, and was about to say so, when his eyes caught a dark mass outside the city's gates. It was active, whatever it was, mismatched shapes, some large, others small, all moving at a different pace. Torches flickered, casting light onto the newcomers.
His soul shooting with joy, Montero sprang to his feet, a grin quickly spreading across his face. "I knew it!" he cried, his voice almost shaking with emotion. "I knew they'd come!" He clicked his fingers at Impa. "Come, let's greet them. We should be able to easily get to them before-"
"They're not Calatians." It was Fran's voice that had cut him off.
"What?" the King demanded.
"They're not Calatians," the Hylian repeated. Shading his eyes from the sun, Fran peered ahead, his face creased as he concentrated. Suddenly, he relaxed, relief flooding into his features.
"What is it?" Montero asked cautiously.
"They're Zora!" Fran cried. "And they have Princess Zelda with them!"
...
Link stood, his arms folded across his chest, as Hikirem came swaggering down the hill, his cloak tattered, his face scarred. Yet another stand-off. The Boneyard Warrior knew, from what the Teacher had told him, that the One, Unseen would bring evil to him like moth to a flame, just to test how he would react. Each and every situation was an opportunity to push himself to a higher state.
Harlequin, visibly shaking, whimpered beside him. "Mister, don't let him get me, mister...I know how he's like when he's angry. He hurts, mister...he hurts."
'Angry' was certainly an apt description. To Link's newfound senses, the man approaching him was a dark whirlpool of rage, drained completely of all mercy. He turned to his friend. "Don't worry. Stay calm."
The bandit nodded, though his teeth were chattering.
Hikirem Rusthammer came to a stop an arm's length away from Link. Veins bulged in his face, his eyes bloodshot and wide. This, Link mused, was what happened when people gave in to their worst natures. An idle thought came to him - was this the image that he'd presented to Fran the morning after Servion had betrayed him? Remembering how the old man had reacted, Link's respect for him grew.
A metallic sigh rang through the air as the Bandit King drew his sword. "You made me lose everything," he said simply. "So, I want you to repay that with your accursed life."
Link remained motionless, not even wanting to bring his own weapons to bear. "You brought it upon yourself," he said, his voice soft. "The One, Unseen gave you a taste of what your own hands had earned."
Hikirem snarled, and spat. "I don't want to hear your sermons, boy. I want your head to roll." His eyes flicked over to Harlequin. "You! Why are you with this wretch? Have you betrayed me?"
The bandit stepped forward, almost out of instinct. "No, no...of course not, sir. I'd never do that, sir."
Link pushed down the wave of disappointment that had just then threatened to burst free. He couldn't really blame Harlequin. It wasn't his fault. Besides, expecting people to be loyal to him was just as selfish as any other lust.
"Good," Hikirem continued. "Then pull my dagger from my belt and drive it through the boy's neck." His gaze returned to Link. "Where's that girl of yours? She'll be the surplus on the loan you owe me. More than the little welps I tasted on the way here." He leaned forward, licking his lips. "They were sweet, I tell you." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Especially their screams. The kind of things your girl has been dreaming about ever since she met me, I'd wager."
The young Hylian didn't waste his breath with any sort of reply. The words were measured, hoping to provoke him. He let them drop from his heart. Whatever crimes the Bandit King had committed he would pay for - but out of justice, not revenge.
"By my ancestors," Hikirem swore, more to himself than to the others. "I know why this is happening. I must have offended one of those fortune tellers back at the camp, and so she placed a bad luck curse on me." He shook his head."I knew I shouldn't have taken her daughter for entertainment."
Eyes narrowing, Link let the man's words sink in. Though the Bandit King didn't believe in the One, he did have some notion of the Unseen, and the way people's deeds played upon it. The seed of an idea sprouted in his heart.
"What's the matter, fool?" Hikirem said, directing his venom at Harlequin once more. "I gave you an order. Obey it!"
The bandit took yet another step forward, though his whole body trembled. A film of sweat covered his face, his eyes darting in panic. He reached out for Hikirem's dagger, though his hand was far from stable. Harlequin looked at Link, his eyes full off sorrow, then glanced at the Bandit King, his expression changing to fear. Link said nothing. He knew that it was up to Harlequin himself to make a decision. He wasn't going to interfere.
"Hurry up with it!" the Bandit King bellowed, making Harlequin jump. "Or I'll gut him myself, then cut your limbs from you one by one."
The bandit's fingers curled around the hilt of the Hikirem's dagger. He closed his eyes, whispering.
Link tensed, his gloved hand ready to drop to his sword. Suddenly, Jack stopped. He froze, as though steel had flooded his veins. His mouth setting into a thin line, he stood up straight, backing away. "No," he whispered. "No, mister." He glanced at Link. "This is my friend. I'll never abandon him for you."
Link, try as he might to stop himself, couldn't help but savour in the sweet relief rushing through his heart. The moment barely lasted a heartbeat, though, as Hikirem, a yell fleeing his lips, leapt forward, one arm curling around Harlequin's face, the other bringing the blade to his neck.
"Fine!" he snapped. "Let's try this then. You, boy, take that sword of yours and plunge it through your own heart. I'll let this worm live if you do so."
Link could have pointed out the fallacy in the request, that there'd be no guarantee that the Bandit King would see the deal through, seeing how Link himself would be dead, but decided to keep quiet instead. The man wasn't thinking straight and anything could push him plunging over the edge.
"Don't you wonder," the Warrior asked, "how I managed to burn your camp to the ground all by myself?" It wasn't true, of course, seeing as Kisho and Rivero had played their parts, too, but Hikirem didn't know that.
"It was more of my accursed bad luck," the Bandit King replied. He brought his sword closer to Jack's throat. "No more words, boy. Just actions."
Link's threw Harlequin a knowing glance. "I'm the Spirit of Death, see," he said, his voice soft. "If you anger me, you pay the penalty. That's your bad luck for you."
Saliva flew from Hikirem's mouth as he raged. "What babbling nonsense is this? You're just a boy - a boy - you know nothing about the ways of the world."
Inhaling deeply, Link closed his eyes, reaching back with his heart into the lake behind him. Doubt tugged at him. He'd failed trying this before - what made him so sure he'd succeed now? A thought bolstered his resolve. He would succeed. He'd succeed because the One, Unseen would aid him against a twisted soul such as Hikirem's.
The next few seconds stretched, time slowing down to a crawl as the world magnified in the Boneyard Warrior's eyes. Link felt the sun caress his back, felt the insects buzz past his face, sensed the creatures of the lake gliding swiftly through the waters. He smelt the earthy tang of the grass, combined with the heady scent of the newly blooming flowers. He sensed a pair of heartbeats, one hammering loudly, the other slow and ponderous.
The air turned cold instantly, pregnant with the prospect of oncoming rain. A few drops flew into his face. In his mind's eye, he tried to grasp the lake in his hands. It slipped through his fingers, rebelling against his commands, but he pushed at it, whipping it until it submitted. It relented once, twice, then broke, meekly flowing towards him in humble submission.
He heard the Bandit King gasp as the lake churned and bubbled behind him. Eyes flying open, Link slowly lifted his hand, sensing the water behind him rise in time with the gesture. Hikirem's mouth dropped open as the lake took on almost living qualities, bulging and raging as though it seethed with anger.
Every muscle in Link's body stretched to breaking point as he struggled to maintain the connection. Teeth clenched, sweat rolling down his face, he hoped that this little spectacle would be enough to pierce Hikirem's corrupt heart.
"Release...him," Link gasped, his body shuddering from the effort. Gloomy clouds, spitting bolts of lightening, swirled in the sky above, the Boneyard Warrior's dark form framed by the barricade of glittering water, his cloak flapping wildly.
With a bellow of rage, the Bandit King, flinging Harlequin to one side, lunged at the young Hylian. Link spun, dodging the attack and breaking his connection. The water collapsed in on itself with a roar, sending foam into the air. Hikirem plunged into the lake with a splash, choking with shock.
Ignoring the scream of his aching bones, Link flung himself to the ground, grasping for the man's arm. He caught it and, despite the sheer fatigue that wanted to drown his soul, he pulled. "Hold on, damn you," he gasped. "Hold on."
Their eyes locked. Pure hatred churned on Hikirem's face. "I've lost my land. I've lost my minions. I've lost my power and my authority. Women would throw themselves at me, begging me to touch them, and now they won't even give me a second glance. I'd rather burn in the Pit than let you rescue me."
With a sharp yank, Hikirem pulled away, his sleeve tearing in Link's fingers. The Bandit King, an insane grin etched on his face, fell back into the water, then sank under the waves, leaving only a trail of bubbles. Link sat back, his shoulders sagging. The Bandit King had made his choice. There was nothing the young Hylian could do about it now, even if he had had the strength left to intervene.
"Mister!" Harlequin called, running up to him. "Mister, are you alright?"
Link pushed him way gently, his mind swimming as it begged to be allowed to rest. "Stupid fool," he moaned. "Stupid ignorant fool."
His friend offered him no words, though Link felt the bandit's hand come to rest on his shoulder. He could sense Harlequin's confusion, his heart in conflict over the Bandit King's fate. Closing his eyes, Link started to drift away into the world of dreams.
Something prodded him. An oddly familiar sensation tickled his heart. His eyelids opened, and he peered across the now calm waters of Lake Hylia.
"What is it, mister?" Harlequin said softly. Dimly, Link noticed that now even his friend's voice had taken on that edge of respectful awe that he'd come to resent from the Lost.
Hope burned in Link's heart as he stood, his legs shaking. "It's Zelda," he replied. A renewed sense of purpose washed over him, melting his fatigue away. "She's close. She's very close."