Chapter Seven
The Castleton Amphitheatre was awash with colour; curling ribbons of a myriad shade swooped through the air, cutting a path through the spinning rain of confetti and silk. Sharp sunlight, golden and twinkling, streaked through the flawlessly blue, cloudless sky as a wave of noise, eager and in merry spirits, rumbled from within the massive building.
It was, Zelda mused as she took in a deep breath, an exhilarating sight, more so because it was such a pleasant day, too. A tingle of anticipation touched the small of her back, her fingers drumming against her thigh as she waited for all her hopes to be realised. At the end of this day, Castleton would be hers – both the throne and the people. And finally, her cast-iron conviction that right would always win out would be shown to nothing more than the very simple truth.
She was led under an intricately carved marble archway, glistening as it caught the sun's rays, and entered into the arena itself to join the other participants in the Shadow Lord's grand tournament. Her eyes flicked over to the crowd, a throbbing mass of humanity that encircled the main area, and found the children quickly, some impoverished, but still smiling. Her heart sank at the sight of them, but at the same time, molten steel flowed through her veins, the belief that she would be the one to finally make a difference and bring happiness to these innocents was overpowering.
And yet…and yet her mind drifted back to Ruto's words, her friend's questions about whether the damage that the memory charms had wrought on Link could somehow be reversed. Her cheek twitched as she pondered her options…yes, she knew of one way, but she also knew that if that particular method failed then there would be no hope at all, and that was a prospect she couldn't bear to face.
A token of love, the scholars said, a token of love presented to the stricken one to remind him of bonds forged; sacred bonds that shouldn't be broken save in the direst of circumstances. Reflexively she reached into her belt and pulled out the ring. She let it lay in the palm of her hand, where it felt cold and strangely heavy. A token of love…her fingers curled around the ring, letting it dig into her skin, before she put it away. She couldn't let herself be distracted this day.
Zelda let her gaze sweep around the arena, impressed by the effort that had been put into this tournament. Somehow the entire central area had been converted into a tiny valley, sans grass but complete with waterfall and lake. Rafts bobbed up and down on the makeshift river, the mouth of which flowed from some sort of wooden structure which hissed and gurgled as it pumped water. Talon's handiwork, no doubt, though she couldn't quite fathom how he'd managed to construct all this in such a short time.
Shading her eyes from the sun, the Princess peered once more into the crowd, spotting her father high up in the stands in a silk covered viewing box. Also in the upper stands she saw Ruto and, in another section, Saria. Standing on a podium and looking distinctly nervous was one of Link's advisors – what was his name? Timble? Tingle! That was it.
A sigh whispered from the crowd, mixed in with one or two screams. Zelda turned to see Franco DeZorres, held aloft on a bier, enter the arena, waving and smiling inanely. The sight of such a self-absorbed creature sickened her to her stomach.
"Look at them." It was Link's voice, standing as he was with the other participants. Zelda cocked her head to one side, but made a point of not looking directly at him. "They'll hang on his every word, no matter how empty or ridiculously overblown it is. And because of what? A pretty face and a larger than life reputation – to think people would be impressed with something so low, to think people would take more pride in another person's life, to the point that they even become envious and begin to hate their own, rather than take satisfaction in their own achievements, no matter how small they may be."
Zelda was struck by the intelligence in Link's words, but still said nothing. The Shadow Lord, however, hadn't finished. "But may I say, Princess," he added, "that you're looking beautiful today."
Resisting the urge to shake her head, Zelda knew that her one time friend was now back to his usual state. One small nugget of wisdom wouldn't make up for all the evil the Shadow Lord had caused.
Franco stepped over to the others. "Ah ha," he said, his eyes settling on the Princess. "Would that such beauty wouldn't be tarnished by a tournament such as this. I beg you reconsider this foolish path that you have taken."
Zelda's lips twitched, so much did she want to snarl. She didn't have the forbearance for this. "I'll enjoy seeing you lose, sir," she said. "Then perhaps you'll realise that my choice was far from foolish."
The nobleman almost flinched from the words, and opened his mouth to let fly a retort when he was suddenly cut off. "Ooooh," a voice cried. "Isn't he handsome?"
Turning, the Princess caught sight of one of the other entrants into the tournament, a strange looking Hylian female with two heads. "What a dish!" one of the heads continued, her eyes wide.
"No," the other head retorted, this one wearing a mask of pure venom. "He's not. He's a fool. A foppish, useless fool."
Franco bristled, drawing himself up to his full height. "I say, Madam," he said. "There's no need for such hurtful barbs."
"Hear that?" the first head said. "You hurt him."
"Oh boo-hoo-hoo," the other replied, rolling her eyes. "Poor little baby can't bear the truth."
"I feel so sorry for him." The first head looked downcast. "Let's go over and comfort him."
"Don't you dare!" the other snapped. "I'm not going to fawn over some pathetic little sap like that. If you even move one inch, I swear I'll stay up all night and ..and…
"What? Sing? Hmmm?" The first head sniffed. "Doesn't scare me."
"I'll bite your ears!" The second head snapped her jaws just to show that she could do it, too.
The first head recoiled, a look of disgust on her face. "You are so mean. Why I ever ended up…"
Zelda let the voices trail from her mind as she turned away, shaking her head. She saw another one of those suspiciously blonde women that seemed to infest Castleton approach the party. A tiny parchment attached to the woman's tunic identified her as a representative of the 'Daily Hylian.' Here was another of Link's little projects. For some reason he felt that the people should be informed as to what went on in the country, and so had a team of people write reports that were then distributed by scroll. The problem was that they wrote every single one by hand, and so the scrolls were woefully behind the times when they eventually reached the people.
"Lord Heritey of the Versimi Republic," the woman said, stopping in front of a giant of a man, his spiked armour bristling with every breath that he took. "It's strange to see you take a break from your twenty-five year civil war just to take part in this tournament. Don't you think you have more pressing concerns?"
"There is no greater concern than the honour of my people!" Lord Heritey boomed. "Truly on this day, the world will see the superior prowess of the Versimi Republic!"
"A question," the woman said, her tone surprisingly pleasant. "Do you believe that you will win your civil war?"
"Of course!" the giant growled. "There is only one solution to rebels – destroy them! Destroy them utterly!"
"And," the woman went on, not missing a beat, "what happens when you do win?"
"There will be peace, of course. And my people will live according to the great edicts of our elders."
"And what about potential problems? How do you think that you, as a people inexperienced with peaceful times, will handle any disputes?"
Lord Heritey looked down at the woman, his eyes full of surprise. "Why, there is only one course available to people who cause problems and disputes," he said. "They will be destroyed! Destroyed utterly!"
A horn rang out, signifying the end of all conversation. The crowd roared in response. They knew what was coming. The tournament was about to begin.
2
A race. The first event was a horse race around the track encircling the artificial valley. Zelda sat in the saddle of her mare, holding the reins tightly. From somewhere far above, Tingle was explaining the rules. She shut out his words – she didn't care – and shut out the all the other noise, too. The crowd, their voices betraying the itch of impatience, became nothing more than a dull throb, the hissing of the water machine a faint sigh, and the rumble of the waterfall nothing more than the tapping of rain against glass.
The anticipation that she'd felt earlier was now churning in her stomach, and spreading through her body. She was tense, edgy. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Link calmly perched upon Epona, his horse. If nothing else, she had to beat the Shadow Lord. She swallowed, but no moisture came to her mouth. A fly buzzed close to her face and she waved it away, irritated, before throwing one last look at her father high in the stands. This was it.
Again she gripped the reins tightly, though they'd almost slipped through her sweaty palms.
"I will countdown from three," Tingle called. "Then the race begins. The three who finish first move onto the next stage. The others…are eliminated." The crowd rose to their feet, the noise increasing in kind.
"Three."
Zelda faced front, her eyes fixed dead ahead.
"Two."
She could hear the rush of her own blood thumping in her chest. She ignored it.
"One."
Neck bent, back arched, she dug her heels into the sides of her ride. For righteousness. For justice.
"Go!"
With a jolt the Princess was off, dust churning under galloping hooves and flecks of grit, riding the oncoming wind, flying into her face. The rhythmic thuds drummed into her mind and Zelda could feel her face contort into a rigid scowl, teeth clenched as she let pure determination fuel her movements.
The riders veered around the first corner, close enough to the crowd that they could hear the spectators jeers, cheers and taunts. Zelda snapped her head around, got a glimpse of Franco on her heels, then turned back instantly. To her left she could see Epona's snorting head as Link inched into the lead. A spike of icy fear stroked Zelda's heart, threatening to pierce through and let despair run free. With a cry, she kicked her heels, crushing the thought like a snuffed flame. She would not give in this quickly.
A voice roared from behind her. "Desttrrroooooooy alllll eneeemiiieeees!!" Lord Heritey, then, more words than deeds it seemed. Another voice: "Can't we go any faster?" followed by "I'm trying! If you'd stop leering after the fop and concentrate on the race, we might do better!" Zelda allowed herself a bitter smile. Only three would move onto the next stage, but qualifying wasn't what was important. She had to prove to her father that she was far better than Link. He was clearly the favourite, while she was the underdog. That had to change.
Another corner approached and Zelda, the sun on her back, pulled to the left, hoping to cut across the Shadow Lord's path. Clods of baked mud flew into the air, scratching her skin, but the Princess ignored it all. She saw her mare draw level with Epona, flexed her knuckles as she prepared to pull ahead. Closer now; she could hear the panting of the two horses, the rumble of their hooves like thunder, the sand-stained ground beneath a blur. The crowd gasped, as though not believing what was happening, and Zelda felt a prick of satisfaction strengthen her spirits.
Something struck her back suddenly, winding her. The reins slipped from her hands, and her ride careened dangerously, almost toppling over. With a yell, she dug her heels in once more, grasping desperately for the reins. Her fingers clutched leather, slipped, then grabbed a firm hold, and she instantly pulled herself aright. A flicker of motion slipped past her and she saw Franco, all smiles as per usual, storm ahead.
Snarling, Zelda gave chase, keeping enough distance between her and the two riders following her, but still somewhat behind Link and Franco. What had hit her, anyway? Daring to look up from the track, she gazed around her, scanning the area – and saw it. Saria. Saria! The little Kokiri had a blowpipe to her lips. Anger flooded Zelda's heart. So, that's how Link was going to play this. Typical. He had no sense of honour for him to do otherwise, of course. What was worse, though, that in the eyes of the crowd – and her father- she'd just stumbled foolishly like a child for no apparent reason.
No. No. Zelda kicked once more, lowering her head as she drove her mare on. She took another corner, smoothly this time, and the final stretch of track, awash with sunlight, came into view. Onwards she pushed, her shoulders aching from the effort. Link and Franco were in her line of sight, and she was gaining on them. Like felled trees rising from the dead, the crowd rose to their feet, their cries at fever-pitch.
Her gasping ride reached Franco's horse, going level with its hind legs, then moving past the saddle, then finally pulling clear. Zelda threw the nobleman a malicious grin, taking satisfaction from his shocked expression. Link was just an inch ahead now, but the finish line was drawing nearer and nearer and…
"Rah!" she yelled, squeezing the last bit of strength into her efforts. The world spun in her vision, sweat pouring down her face. Her horse veered slightly to the right, its snout now at the level of Epona's neck. All Zelda needed was a little…extra…push…and…
…the crowd erupted as Link crossed the finish line. Zelda came in second, Franco third. To her consternation, she saw Saria conducting the crowd, leading them with chants in praise of the Shadow Lord.
Link, wiping his brow with a cloth, looked over at the Princess. "Good try, love."
Zelda pulled her horse away. "Not good enough."
3
Silence hung in the air like a tangible thing, the whole world, it seemed, holding its collective breath. The sloshing of the river was a distant murmur as Zelda focused on the target hanging from a boulder on the far side of the riverbank. Archery was the second task, and only two would proceed to the final round.
The steel tip of the arrow glistened in the sunlight, sparkling like a star, and the bowstring bit into her fingers as her trembling arms, heavy and aching, tried to keep the bow steady. Her narrowed eyes funnelled in on the painted red target, then she moved a hair to the right…and released. The arrow spun through the air with a sigh, all eyes following its progress, then crunched into the target in a shower of splinters, its shaft still shuddering.
Zelda, leaning forward on her toes, peered ahead. Sour disappointment bit her as she saw that, though close, her shot had not struck as far home as Link and Franco's had. She was glad, then, that this was just her second practise run.
"Prepare yourselves," Tingle called. "Practise time is over…the contest is about to begin!"
Courtiers hurried over to the target, picking up loose arrows and replacing the wooden target board with another, fresh and unsullied. Zelda inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as she tried to calm herself. She had to win this one. She had to.
"The Shadow Lord will go first!"
A ripple of noise greeted this announcement, though the crowd were strangely muted. The Princess saw that Link had noticed this, too, and was scowling accordingly. A smile came to her lips, and though she had made no conscious decision to do so, her hand fell to her belt where the ring lay safe.
Link took position, the muscles in his arms rippling, and lifted the bow. Once more silence fell on the proceedings like a thick blanket. Lips pursed, eyes as slits, Link pulled the bowstring tight. He blew, a tuft of his blond hair lifting from his eyes. His boots sank into the ground, his body statuesque…and then the bow sang as the arrow was let free. It hit the target board with a thock, chipping the top left corner of the painted bullseye. Polite applause greeted the shot, and Link scowled some more.
"Franco DeZorres will go next!"
This time the crowd responded, their cheers bubbling with enthusiasm. Some people gave individual shouts of encouragement, and one or two of the younger women cried out proposals of marriage before they were shushed by their chaperones.
Franco, grinning from ear to ear, raised his hands to silence the spectators. "Thank you, thank you," he cooed. "No doubt you have all paid good coin just to feast your eyes on my magnificent self." Some of the women shrieked. "I will not disappoint you, I assure you. And, may I add, that I will be free this evening to let everyone see my trophy – though not before letting everyone see my good self first, of course."
Zelda glanced at Link. Link glanced at Zelda. An understanding passed between them, then, something that a casual observer would not have noticed.
The nobleman took his position, his movements smooth, unhurried and relaxed. In one liquid motion, he drew the bow level, attached the arrow, took aim for a fraction of a second, and released. Not even bothering to check his progress, Franco strutted away, his lip curled in a satisfied smile. Zelda saw that the arrow had hit just a hair left of the bullseye –not as close as Link's, but enough for the nobleman to clearly believe that Zelda wou;dn't be able to match him.
The crowd, clapping in rhythm, began chanting the nobleman's name. Franco waved in response, his back straight, his neck stiff. "This evening!" he promised. "Drinks – and food – will be on me! And, no doubt, you'll be more than entertained with tales of my exploits. And, who knows? Perhaps one lucky maiden may find this to be the evening of her life." He winked, and the sounds of bodies collapsing to the floor rang out in the air.
"And last, but not least…Princess Zelda!"
"It would seem," Link's said as he stepped behind her to let her pass, "that someone is in need of a lesson in humility." He backed off as Zelda stood in position. "Wouldn't you say?"
"I would say," the Princess whispered, "that I'll let my actions answer for me." She glanced at him, saw his smile, and responded in kind.
One foot placed in front of the other, Zelda readied her bow. She dug one heel into the ground, raising the tip of the arrow and lining it up with the target. Her fingers danced on the bowstring, then she pulled it tight, the wire almost touching her lips. Zelda closed one eye, and cocked her head to the side, once more letting all background noise fade from her mind. She shifted to the left and swallowed. If she lost this, she wouldn't make it to the final and…
The red bullseye loomed in her mind's eye. The world drained of colour, the circular target the only thing that mattered at that moment in time. She could see the cracks in the paint, the smudges on the rim, the other two arrows firmly lodged. She moved a fraction to the left once more…and released, the recoil making her arms jerk.
The arrow burned through the air, twirling, a blur of motion. Wood cracked against wood…and then all was still.
The courtiers rushed to the scene. Zelda peered forward. Franco and Link, their hands over their brows, strained to see. The crowd waited, hushed. One of the courtiers ran to where Tingle waited, and whispered something in his ear. The advisor stood up straight, motioned for silence, then spoke. "The winner of the second round." He glanced at the Shadow Lord. "Princess Zelda!"
Half the crowd gasped, while the other half roared their approval. Zelda's shoulders sagged in relief as she heard her father bellow, "Bravo! Bravo! Splendid! That's my daughter, you know."
Looking up, she saw Franco DeZorres, standing completely still, his eyes stretched with shock, his expression crestfallen. The Princess couldn't help but grin.
4
They stood at the top of the waterfall, watching as the water churned and bubbled before spilling into the basin below, while courtiers tied a rope from one rocky peak to another, so that it hung directly above the tip of the fall. Dangling from this rope were three metal plates, flicked to and fro by the breeze, and each painted green.
"The final event," Tingle called, "is for the two finalists to hit the spinning plates with their hookshots, so that all three turn completely around. The winner will be the one who hits the final plate."
Zelda accepted the hookshot presented to her, and looked over at the rope. Was that all? This was almost too easy.
"However," Tingle went on, adding a dramatic pause. "Both contestants will be riding the rafts anchored in the river at the moment." The Princess saw that 'raft' was an over-exaggeration – more like a flat row of logs held together with strings. "And both….will be duelling the other."
Zelda almost flinched as one of the courtiers bowed, pushing a sword, its edge blunt, into her hands. "A duel?" she gasped, looking over at Link. The Shadow Lord was already gingerly setting afoot on of the rafts. "Are you mad?"
He glanced back at her, grinning. "Just a little bit of sport, love," he said. "Unless you want to forfeit, of course?"
Pushing down her anxiety, the Princess hung the hookshot from her belt and marched over to another raft. "Never." She stepped onto it and her stomach lurched as it dipped wildly into the water. Arms outstretched, she steadied herself, though her heart was hammering in her chest. She had to fight Link and hit the targets – while riding this? Again, she buried her irritation. She wasn't going to show any fear.
"On my signal," Tingle called as the spectators craned forward.
Zelda brought the blade to bear, and turned to face her opponent. The logs bobbed under her boots, water staining the wood dark. Courtiers stood on the bank, axes in their hands, poised to cut the ropes that held the rafts steady.
"Go!"
With a swoosh and a snap, the axes cut through the cords and the rafts lurched wildly into the river, floating towards the waterfall as the crowd egged them on.
Holding her legs steady, the Princess waited until Link's raft drifted in front of hers. Metal sliced air as the Shadow Lord swung with his first strike. Instinctively, Zelda threw her sword arm up, and both blades clanged into the other. Link spun away, the motion making the two rafts tilt, spray kissing their backs. Slashing the air, the edge of Link's blade flashed in the Princess' eyes, a fraction of a heartbeat before she jerked backwards to safety.
"Come, come, Princess," the Shadow Lord taunted through clenched teeth. "You can do better than that."
Zelda felt liquid hot rage run in her veins. Now…now she'd be able to make him pay for all the evil he'd caused. "That I can." The two swords swung towards each other, steel cracking, locking, then slithering apart. Crack, lock, disengage – the two opponents danced as they each sought an opening; spinning, dodging, weaving.
"Why?" Zelda spat as her blade slammed into Link's. "Why do you make people suffer?" Again her sword hit home, making the Shadow Lord stumble. The sweet taste of near victory flooded her mouth. "Why did you hurt the Gorons?" A twirl, another strike. "Why didn't you let the slaves go?"
She swung too far and Link ducked, then fell back flat onto the raft. To her shock, he then slid across the gap between the two rafts, sprang up and shoved her to the wooden floor. "I don't have to explain myself to you, sunshine," he said, breathing heavily. His form blotted out the sun, letting a cool breeze wash over the Princess. "Though I have tried, not that you ever listen."
Zelda kipped up, crouched, then somersaulted over Link's head, landing on the other raft. Grinning at his expression of surprise, she pulled free the hookshot and fired. The spike whirred then struck the first plate with a ting, making it spin and turning its face from green to red.
She turned back to the Shadow Lord. "You forget," she said, and she couldn't stop the gloating in her tone. "I was trained by a Sheikah to be a Sheikah."
Link deflected her next strike, tossed his sword to his other hand and drove the blade forward, pushing Zelda back. "Oh yes. That's a strange thing, too, isn't it? Dressing up as a man?" The swords locked again, crossed in the air over the gap between the two rafts, and Link leaned closer. "Is there something you need to tell me?"
Zelda spat, then kicked, the two blades unlocking. She arced the blade towards Link's head and it struck his hat, leaving it awry.
"Halt!" Link called, holding up a hand.
Zelda paused, puzzled. The crowd waited, questioning. Flies buzzed in the air. The waterfall rumbled.
The Shadow Lord reached up and set his hat straight. He nodded at Zelda. "Carry on."
"Pathetic!" Zelda cried, cutting the air once more. She felt the foam of the waterfall rain down on her back and, glancing over her shoulder, saw the edge creep closer and closer. Her head snapped up, seeing the other plates. She couldn't put this off any longer.
The Princess spun her blade over her head, then brought it hurtling down. "It's over for you, Link," she said, her voice soft and strangely sad. "I hope you get all the help that you need." He blocked the blow, as she'd expected, but left himself exposed. With a sharp shove, she ploughed her shoulder into his chest, bringing him to his knees. In one swift movement, she spun on her heels, brought her hookshot up, fired, and struck the second plate.
Just one more to go, she mused as a salty taste swirled around her mouth. She'd done everything right in this little encounter. Her father would have to be impressed. And Link…Link was about to suffer his greatest humiliation yet. She felt her heart sing with delight.
"That's an interesting trick," the Shadow Lord said as he stumbled back onto his feet.
"What do you mean?" Zelda asked warily, waving her sword. The waterfall throbbed behind them, like the very itself was being shred in two.
Link made a motion with his hand. "That jumping over my head thing. You know, spinning in the air."
"Sheikah training, as I told you." Her eyes darted, looking for a weak spot. If she could just distract him a moment longer…
"One time thing, I think," he replied. "Nothing to do with training."
"Is that so?" Zelda bent at the knee again. This would be it. If her manoeuvre had impressed Link, then it would have impressed her father, too. Another attempt would be just the spice she needed…she could strike Link down from behind as well.
"That is so." He grinned.
"Then permit me to prove you wrong." She leapt into the air once more, sunlight dazzling her eyes, and rolled over Link's head, landing daintily onto his raft. She spun around –
-and saw that the Shadow Lord, hookshot at the ready, had stepped over to the other raft. His grin widened. "Thanks a lot, love." The spike exploded out from his hookshot, ploughed into the final plate and, with the crowd screaming with joy, turned it red, ending the contest.
Zelda felt the colour drain from her face, her mouth agape. Her hookshot fell from her limp fingers, clattering to the wood below, and she turned to the Shadow Lord, her jaws working, but no words coming free.
"Heh. Heh. Heh," said Link.
Hookshot spikes drove into the rafts and the courtiers pulled them both back to safety. Zelda stepped onto dry land, feeling completely stunned. Outsmarted. She'd been outsmarted in front of her father and the whole of Castleton. This was a total and utter defeat.
People rushed past her, all hoping to embrace the Shadow Lord and congratulate him on his victory. Zelda took no notice. She walked away slowly, the world around her a distant blur. No. She couldn't lose. She couldn't! All the people that would suffer. There had to be something…something…
A token of love.
"Link," she called, turning around and marching straight up to him. All around them, the crowd fell into a hush once more. "Congratulations on your victory." Her hand went to her belt, flipped open a pouch. "But what do you think," she reached in, the cold metal comforting, "of this?"
The Shadow Lord flinched as the Princess brought the ring, flashing gold in the light, to bear. They stared at each other, the air between them thick. The crowd waited expectantly. Link leaned forward, his eyes wide. "What's that, then?" he said. "Ring of power, is it? To rule them all, and all that malarkey?" He motioned with his hand. "I've always fancied one of those. Hand it over, love."
"What," Zelda seethed, "are you talking about?"
"Enough!" The King's voice cracked the air. All eyes turned towards him. "No more bickering. Link is our well-deserved victor – now is the time for feasting and celebration. This…is over."
The spectators cheered, standing and waving. Zelda stalked away, glowering, ignoring the people that bumped into her in their haste to get to the Shadow Lord. She caught a glimpse of one of Link's guards and smiled. No, she mused. Despite what her father said, this was not over yet.