Chapter 8

"And then, there was much rejoicing."

The Shadow Lord sat back in his chair, his feet on the long table in front of him. All around him there hung the sounds of merriment- singing, dancing, the folk of Castleton grinning with their rose cheeked faces and, of course, plenty of feasting. Link frowned. He knew he'd forgotten something. Sitting up straight, he blinked, trying to stop his head spinning from the mix of blurred candlelight and the weighty scent of incense, its smoke curling through the Great Hall making everything look distinctly hazy.

On his left sat Saria, a distinctly bemused look on her face, and on his right sat his scribe, his fingers stained blue with ink. The Great Hall had been decked out with silk and gold, its walls polished and gleaming, its chandeliers twinkling slowly as they spun. Sometimes a noble would walk up to the table and offer Link hearty congratulations. He took it in stride. So long as they were happy this night. Happy and well-fed.

Link motioned to the scribe. "And feasting," he said. "Remember to add the feasting."

The scribe looked up, his eyes watery, then furiously began scribbling on the scroll on his lap, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Actually," Link said after a moment. "Maybe it should go like this: 'Verily, there was much rejoicing and feasting.'" He pondered a moment longer. "Yes, that's it. Write this: 'Verily, there was much rejoicing and feasting,' mate."

"Verily," the scribe repeated, his quill working feverishly, "there was much rejoicing…and…feasting…mate."

The Shadow Lord blinked. "No," he said. "Lose the mate, mate."

The scribe looked up, confused. "Lose the mate?"

"That's right." Link felt a headache coming on. "Don't write 'mate'. Just write, 'verily, there was much rejoicing and feasting,' mate."

The scribe sat back in his chair. He opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head. Squinting through the curtain of smoke, he suddenly looked like he wished he were somewhere else. Then, once more, he opened his mouth to speak and, once again, his jaws snapped shut.

"Oh, just give me that!" Saria snapped, snatching both quill and scroll. After a moment of heated writing, she concluded in exasperation, "There!"

"Thanks, love," the Shadow Lord said, sniffing. He took a swig from his potion bottle, then closed his eyes as the nectar rushed through his body. Letting out a deep breath, Link sagged in his chest, the sounds and smells washing over him like a balm. "Thas jusht lubbly." He burped for added effect.

Saria threw him a look filled to the brim with scorn. "You can't get intoxicated on Red Potion."

Link sighed. "I know. I'm just getting into the mood." He grinned as he watched the people dance and eat in front of him. Glazed meats, roasted vegetables stewing in steaming gravy and sweetmeats all sprinkled with sugar sat on the tables ahead. In one corner, a group of young Hylians thumped on large drums, the skins stretching with every thump. Laughter and the hum of conversation floated in the air, and the Shadow Lord could almost taste the goodwill in the atmosphere. The denizens of Castleton smiled, their eyes twinkling with genuine joy. Link let himself ride on a wave of pure contentment. He'd done it. He'd won them over completely.

Glancing at his Kokiri friend, he shifted in his seat, then asked, "Did you see the look on her face?" He mimed the expression just to hammer his point home. "Just beautiful, love. Won't be seeing much of her again."

Saria looked pensive. "Do you think so?" she asked. "Don't you think she may try something else? A wounded animal is always more dangerous, after all."

Link had to raise his voice to make himself be heard over the din. "Don't worry, love. If she does try something – why, thank you, Lord Stevmos." Deftly, Link shook the nobleman's hand, then turned smoothly back to his friend. It was a practised movement, designed not to cause any offence. For now, the Shadow Lord was content to deal well with everyone. Well, mostly everyone. "If she does try something, I've got it well in hand."

Eyes narrowed, the Kokiri asked. "What do you mean?"

"I have a plan."

"Not the water torture, Link."

He scowled. "I have another plan."

Saria smiled, shaking her head. "I think you've done enough," she said. Her mind drifted back a few hours to the end of the tournament. "By the way," she added. "What was it, exactly, that Zelda was showing you after you'd won?"

Link let his tongue roll around the inside of his cheek as he pondered on his words. When he spoke his voice was soft and Saria had to lean in and strain to hear him. "Nothing of any real consequence let me assure you." After a pause, he asked, "Where's the King, do you know?"

"I think he retired to bed early," she replied. Glasses chinked against each other, and laughter and cheering followed suit. "Too much excitement for him. He'll be leaving in the morning."

"Well," the Shadow Lord said, bringing his arms around so that his hands could rest on the back of his head. "Quest accomplished, wouldn't you say?"

Saria looked away, but couldn't keep the grin from her face. "Certainly." She picked up an apple from the table, threw it, caught it, then bit into it. "The other day we were attacked by that Stalfos, do you remember?"

Link raised his eyebrows. "How could I forget, love?" he said. "Stupid thing seemed to wonder why he'd ever been born. I tell you, if Ganondorf ever returns, all we have to do is set that skeleton on him and he'll talk the Gerudo into surrender." He glanced at his friend. "Ganondorf'll be in tears, begging us to seal him back into the Sacred Realm."

Pushing herself out of her makeshift chair, the Saria climbed up onto the table and perched herself on the edge. "But that Stalfos is still out there somewhere."

Link pressed his palms together and brought his fingertips to his lips. "Hmm," he said. "That's a point, love. Suppose as soon as the King's gone I'll have to take a wander around the city. See if we can't put the poor boy out of his misery once and for all." Noticing the sharp glance Saria was giving him, he added, "Not the water torture, love, don't worry."

"Good," she replied. "And what about Zelda? Do we know where she is?"

The Shadow Lord let out a breath through pursed lips. "Don't know. Don't care."

"She should be going home with her father," Saria said. "She certainly won't be wanting to stay around here."

"Probably," Link said, his voice laced with boredom. "The sooner the better. Can't wait to be rid of her."

Saria cocked a knowing eyebrow. "Oh really?"

Link gave her a mock-smile. "Yes, really."

"Shadow Lord!" All heads turned to the owner of the voice, a young man, his expression troubled and brooding. The laughter stopped, the conversations trailed into silence, and the drums were cut off. Handsome the young man was, and he commanded the attention of everyone in the room. Link had noticed him earlier, swallowed by a gaggle of well-wishers and young maidens, but didn't know who exactly he was. The young man was dressed in a fine tunic, a golden sword hanging from his waist, and a thick, blue cloak trailing behind him.

"Who's that?" Link whispered from the corner of his mouth.

"Dayid Holsman," Saria whispered back. "He considers himself the true heir of the Versimi Republic."

"Never heard of him."

Link stood, his arms outstretched in an invitation for an embrace, and grinned. "Dayid!" he bellowed. "I was just thinking about you. Always wanted to talk to you, it'll be a pleasure I'm sure." He let his gaze rest on the youngster for a moment. "How can Castleton be of assistance to you?"

"I seek your advice," Dayid said. His eyes were filled with sadness, his shoulders sagging as though he carried a terrible burden. Stepping into the centre of the Hall, he waited until people around had parted, making sure that he was now the focus of attention. "It is a matter that you are well familiar with." He paused to sweep his gaze around the room. "It is a matter of…destiny." As if on cue, lightning flashed from outside.

"Well," said Link, feeling thoroughly confused. "Why don't you share your tale with us, dear sir?"

Dayid took in a deep breath and clasped the hilt of his sword. "I will," he said, his chin trembling. "But be warned, it is a tale of despair and of the most deepest of horrors."

"Oh, jolly good," said the Shadow Lord. "My favourite."

"And it all concerns," Dayid continued, "my destiny."

Lightning flashed again. Somewhere someone dropped a plate. Someone else gasped. Link leaned in towards his Kokiri friend. "How's he doing that?" Saria shrugged in response.

Dayid stood straight, his face a mask of misery and pain. Idly, Link wondered if he were related to the Stalfos. They'd make a well-matched pair that was for certain. They'd certainly be the life of any festivity.

"You are aware of Lord Heritey, of course," the young man went on. "He attended the tournament today. He claims to be the true ruler of the Republic – he lies!" Some people flinched. "It is my Royal Blood that is the true heir to the Throne, my Royal ancestors who were the true rulers, back when my peaceful and beautiful land was known simply as the Versimi Kingdom. It is Heritey and his ilk that have kept my poor family under his boot, torturing them mercilessly, while they never once fought back."

Link frowned. He held up a hand. "Excuse me."

"For decades has my family watched Heritey rape the land, crush its people, strip its resources."

The Shadow Lord waved. "Excuse me, mate."

"Now, it has been decreed that the time is right for us to-"

"Excuse me."

Dayid blinked, and then let his gaze come to rest on the Shadow Lord. "You have a question?"

Link smiled. "If it's the case that you're family knew they should be in charge, and knew that this Heritey bloke was sleeping around with the land-"

"Raping the land."

"Yes, exactly," the Shadow Lord continued. "How is it they did nothing about it, hmm?"

Dayid looked around at the revellers, his eyes impassive. "A fair question," he said. He caught the eye of a maiden, who had the grace to look away shyly. He smiled at that, though inwardly Link felt a touch annoyed. Couldn't the boy pay attention?

"This," Dayid said, once he'd regained his composure, "is all a matter of…destiny." Lightning made another appearance that night. "For, you see, ancient prophecies written with the blood of my people told of a boy who would grow up to reclaim the land of Versimi, by killing the usurper with this golden sword!" He twirled, letting everyone get a good look at the said item. His voice dropped to an almost-whisper. "My family kept this sword with them in their years of darkness, waiting for the-"

"Excuse me."

A vein in Dayid's forehead throbbed. Through clenched teeth, he said, "Yes, Shadow Lord, you have another question?"

"I was just wondering, like," said Link. "This sword is the only thing that can kill Heritey, right?"

Dayid gave a small nod. "That is correct."

"And you're family have been keeping it?"

"That is correct, too."

Link sniffed. "Then why didn't they just use it, mate?"

The youngster opened his mouth, his jaws quivering, before he took in a deep breath and said, "Only one could complete this task. This burden fell upon me. This terrible, heavy, awful burden." He brought his hand up to touch his forehead as he lapsed into silence. Someone stepped forward to pat him on the shoulder, but he waved them away. "However, to protect me, my family gave me up as a child, letting me grow up on a farm in the care of a kindly family. It is only now that I've come to be aware of my dest-"

"Hold on, mate." Link scratched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, opened them, and then placed his palms flat on the table before him. "You grew up as a farmboy?"

Dayid's whole body was trembling with rage now. "Yes," he spat.

"Let's get all this clear," the Shadow Lord said. "You're just an ordinary farmboy, living your life, completely unaware of what's happening in the world, then one day – POOF! You find this destiny of yours, go get your shiny little copper sword –"

"Gold."

Link conceded the point with a nod. "Yes, right. Get your gold sword, then off you go to kill Lord Heritey who's making babies with the land-"

"Raping the land."

Link closed his eyes for a moment. Why were young people so rude nowadays? "That, too. So, off you go, fight the good fight, save the day, get the girl – if there is one, I assume there is, as it's usually part and parcel of the whole prophecy; I mean if there isn't, you should go try and find yourself another prophecy, maybe one with a-"

Curling his hands into fists, the young would-be-hero shook as he asked, "Your point, sir?"

"I do apologise," Link replied. "I get a little carried away sometimes. So – you fight, you win, you're a hero, you get married and, no doubt, you win yourself a nice little kingdom in the bargain."

Dayid shifted uncomfortably on his feet, but still managed to heroically wear an expression that revealed the deepest of inner turmoil. "That is one way of looking at it, sir, yes."

"So," Link continued with a smile, "why are you so bleedin miserable for, then? Especially since it's all prophesised, innit? Nothing to worry about, mate." His eyes scanned the table in front of him and, when he'd found what he'd wanted, Link picked up a dish. "Cake?"

"Well," Dayid said, looking slightly flustered. "It's the burden of my dest-"

"Also," the Shadow Lord said, cutting him off. "It seems to me that this whole 'let you live on a farm' thing is a bit silly, really." Lifting his hat, Link ran a hand through his hair, the golden strands trickling through his fingers. "Wouldn't it have been better if your royal family had let you stay with them, then trained you to fight and got you prepared for you destiny?" The Shadow Lord jumped as lightning winked outside. He scowled, then quickly regained his composure. "Seems a lot more sensible than having you get attached to a family who isn't yours, learning only how to milk a cow – practical as it is, in this day and age – then thrusting you into a role you're clearly not prepared for, and if it wasn't prophesised – though that could be a dubious claim, if the people that wrote that prophecy are as intelligent as your real folks – you'd probably be hung, drawn and quartered before you even got to Lord Heritey's outhouse." Link flashed him a grin. A few titters rang out from the crowd. "What is it you wanted to speak to me about again?"

Stepping away, Dayid then sat down slowly, looking suitably stunned. "It's…not…important."

The Shadow Lord snapped his fingers. "Tingle!"

The advisor appeared, as though from nowhere. "Yes, Milord."

"Red Potion for the young man there," he said, and then added under his breath, "He's going to need it."

"Very good, sir."

"Oh, and Tingle?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Get him an imitation Green Hat, will you, mate?" Link winked. "It'll look good on him. Besides, can't be a hero without one, eh?"

Tingle bowed his head slightly, then moved to leave. "Very good, sir."

Sitting down once again, the Shadow Lord cocked his head to one side, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Saria noticed the gesture. "What is it?" she asked.

"Do you hear something?"

The Kokiri raised her head and blinked. She could hear nothing save the usual sounds of a celebration slowly swinging back to life. Then…she got it. Muffled screams and shouts were dimly audible behind the merrymaking. Her panicked eyes found Link's, but before either could speak, something slammed against the main doors of the Great Hall. Once more, silence fell.

The Shadow Lord stood. "Guards! Guards!" He glanced around, saw nothing. "Where are those damn guards?"

The doors collapsed in on themselves with a horrific rumble, scattering the revellers as they ran screaming.

"Where are your guards, Link?" a voice called from within the rising cloud of smoke. "Haven't you noticed? For the past week or so, your guards haven't been where they've supposed to have been." Zelda stepped into the room, a grin on her face, a glint in her eye, Ruto trotting at her heels. "That's because," she continued, "with a little influence and a lot of money, they're now loyal to me." She beckoned with her hand and a troop of armed men – the Shadow Lord recognised them as those who were supposed to be under his employ – marched in behind her.

Link kept his posture straight and his gaze steady. "What is this?"

"This," said Zelda as she folded her arms across her chest, "is called a revolution." She flashed him another grin, this time dripping with the sense of victory. "I'm taking over…'mate.'"