Author's note: Yes! Someone reviewed! Thank you so much! You have no idea of what this means!
Greki: Thank you for thinking that my story was interesting. What do you mean by spacing problem? I'm not sure that I understand. Thank you so much for reviewing!
A/n: And now, on with the tale of Bishop. Hopefully this will reveal a bit more.
Disclaimer: …Zelda is not mine…
…
Zelda wandered back into the castle and groaned when she heard Rike crying. She sighed as she hurried into her room, and she slid over to Rike's crib. His blue eyes were shut tightly, and he was screaming. Zelda reached down and lifted him out of his crib. She carried him over to the bed and sat down; she began to rock and nurse Rike.
"Kolin? Are you awake?" she asked over her shoulder.
A grunt replied, so Zelda turned around to look at her husband. He was lying facedown in a pillow with another one pressed over his head. A bit of his black hair poked out the top of the pillow sandwich, and his purple eyes were hidden.
"You could have gotten Rike," Zelda hinted.
No response came from the pillows, and Zelda rolled her eyes and finished with Rike. He had calmed down and was almost asleep, so when he fell asleep, Zelda carried him back over to his crib and gently laid him down. As she sank down onto her bed and extinguished the small candle by the bed, a single name raced around her mind.
"Link, the Hero of Time."
…
Lord Damion swiftly marched down one of his fortress' long hallways. Doors lined the walls on either side of him, but he ignored them all until he reached the one he was looking for. He reached inside his cloak and pulled out a ring of brass keys, and he selected one and inserted it in the lock. He turned the key, and the door sprang open. He entered and closed the door behind him.
"Gidion?" he called.
Out of the shadows, a figure emerged. Gidion bowed low and asked, "Yes, my Lord Damion?"
"Have you gotten anything out of the captives?"
"Nothing useful, my lord," Gidion replied, nibbling on his lower lip.
Damion muttered an oath and growled, "Keep them on the rack. If you learn anything, inform me immediately. Failure is not an option."
"Of course, my lord," Gidion bowed.
Damion spun on his heel and quickly strode out of the dark room; Gidion watched him leave and turned around. He spoke a few words in a foreign language, and the wall in front of him noiselessly slid open. He entered, and the wall slid noiselessly back.
…
Bishop and Jarek slid through the remaining foliage of the forest. Instead of taking the main road, which takes four days when you're walking, they cut through the forest and saved three days of traveling.
"This is the place," Bishop muttered, eyeing the town in front of him. He pulled Kishek's map out of his pocket and studied it carefully.
"Apparently, this town has four entrances. Terrible defense," he mused.
"It's called-what an imaginative name-Clocktown," Bishop raised an eyebrow. Jarek looked up at him and whined.
"Let's go," Bishop shrugged, starting to walk toward the town.
As they approached the city, a guard shift was occurring, so Bishop and Jarek were able to slip in unnoticed. Bishop slipped through the city until he came to a certain building.
"There's the inn, so that means the L," Bishop caught himself, "the place that I'm looking for is here," he looked to the right, and when he saw it, his jaw dropped open.
"You've got to be kidding me," Bishop muttered, looking skeptical.
There, in front of him, was the Milk Bar. Bishop's arms dropped to his sides and a look of resignation came over his face.
"Hey, camouflage is good," Bishop tried to say, but he ended up raising his eyebrows in disappointment. Jarek whined.
Bishop shrugged and slipped forward. After his gloved hand grasped the doorknob, he opened the door and walked in. What met him was anything but a milk bar.
…
At the rise of dawn, a small figure slipped through the retreating darkness, and the white falcon that was perched on his shoulder shone in the lessening gloom. The dark figure scurried along the rock-strewn path and slipped a few times.
"Can't be late, can't be late," he hissed to himself.
"Today's the day that he is going to appear. And I can't be late," he hissed, scurrying toward Clocktown's walls.
…
As the sunlight kissed her eyelids, Zelda awoke, and her eyelids fluttered open to meet the dawn. She slipped out from under the sheets and slid over to her large window. From this window, she could see many things, and she loved watching the sun wash everything with its refreshing rays. In the courtyard below her, the grass looked like many polished emeralds, while the small stream looked like pure crystal, and the walls looked like fine marble. But something was out of place. A bit of red was staining the grass.
Zelda looked closer and realized that it was a bloody blade. As her hand flew to her mouth, the baby started to scream. A look of irritation crossed her face as she sighed and turned away from the beautiful courtyard.
She reached down in her son's crib and lifted him out of it. "It's okay, Rike. I'm here."
She sat down in a chair that was by the large window and began to feed Rike. While she was sitting there, some unwanted memories slowly filled her mind…
"I love you, Zelda," Link had breathed down her neck.
"I love you too," Zelda had replied.
They had been sitting in the exact chair that she and Rike were sitting in now, and the chair had never been moved. Zelda had been sitting on his lap, and he had his muscular arms wrapped around her. It was the second night after their small wedding, and they were watching a gorgeous sunset.
Zelda softly sighed as she leaned her head back and rested her head against his strong shoulder. Her small body was cradled against Link's muscular torso, and his rough fingers interlaced themselves with her soft fingers. His calm blue gaze shifted down to look at her, and Zelda's lips parted slightly. Link fingered the simple shift that she was wearing, and the white shift and Link's white pants were colored red from the sunset. Zelda shivered a bit and then she relaxed. He leaned down and kissed her; they kissed until the sun left the window, casting the room into darkness.
Although Zelda didn't know it, a few tears had fallen down her cheeks and landed on Rike's head. Kolin grunted in his sleep, and Zelda's beautiful face turned away in anger.
"Kolin, it's time to get up," she broke the silence.
"Wha?" he grunted, raising his sleepy head from the pillows.
"Good morning," she said warmly.
He mumbled something as he threw the sheets aside and struggled to his feet. His slim figure had no muscle, and his purple eyes were heavy with sleep. His shaggy black hair hung in his eyes, and he stretched.
"G'morning, Zelda," he mumbled, stumbling over to her and sleepily kissing her.
"Shall we go to breakfast?" Zelda asked, while she carried the now sleeping Rike back to his crib.
"Food. Food sounds good," he answered, pulling a robe on.
"Well then, let's go," she smiled, taking his hand and led him to the door.
She reached for the doorknob and, after her slim fingers wrapped around it, twisted it. A pale servant was waiting for them.
"M-my lady," he stuttered, "I have some very bad news."
Zelda inwardly groaned, but asked, "Yes?"
"The King was-" the servant bit his lower lip.
Worry spread across her face. "What about my father?"
"The King was assassinated last night in his sleep," fear was evident in the servant's eyes.
"What?" Zelda shrieked.
"The King was stabbed quite a few times with what appeared to be a sword," the servant replied.
Suddenly, Zelda remembered the blade in the courtyard. "Quickly, go out into the courtyard and fetch the sword there. Hurry!" Zelda commanded. The servant bowed and scurried away. Zelda's pale face turned to look at her husband.
"Don't you know what this means?" she whispered.
"I'm king?"
Before Zelda could reply, another servant ran toward them. "Princess Zelda!"
"What now?" Zelda groaned.
"We found a note beside the king!" the boy gasped, and his brown eyes were wide with fear.
"What did it say?" Zelda shakily asked.
"It said, 'This is nothing compared to what your death will be, Princess Zelda'," the boy read, and then he held up a crumpled piece of paper. Zelda fainted.
…
There, before Bishop, was the infamous Lodge. Small tables were everywhere, and everyone at the small tables were sharpening or cleaning some kind of weaponry. The air had been heavy laden with talk, but it ceased as Bishop entered. Jarek snarled as a tall man approached them.
"Who're you?" the man drawled, swaggering up to him.
"Someone you should fear," Bishop icily replied.
Roars of laughter erupted from the man and the surrounding group of men. Jarek laid his ears back and showed his naked fangs.
"And why should I fear you?" the man laughed.
"Because I'm about to challenge your leader," Bishop growled, and his hands tightened around his whip handles.
"That's odd," the man looked amused, "Because I'm the current leader."
Bishop's eyes were laced with hate. After the man saw that Bishop wasn't going to reply, he said, "You'd have to fight me."
"Let's dance," came the cold reply.
"Skiff, you gonna take him on?" one of the Rogues asked in surprise.
"Yes," Skiff replied.
"You're choice," Bishop growled.
"For what?" Skiff asked as his brow furrowed.
"Where to fight, Leader Skiff," Bishop put a hard emphasis on leader.
"I'd hate to burst your bubble, but you ain't walking out of this alive," Skiff said in fake remorse.
"Oh really," Bishop asked in a flat tone, bracing his legs.
Skiff, unnerved, glanced around at his followers and said, "Tonight, out in the west field."
"I'll be waiting," Bishop replied in a low tone, turning on his heel and leaving the Lodge. Jarek let Skiff look at his fangs for a moment longer, and then he loped after his master.
…
In a giant room, three velvet cushioned crystal chairs were spread around a crystal table. The ceiling stretched on forever, and the walls were midnight black with white stars. In each of the chairs, a figure was slumped over at a weird angle. But then, one of the figures eyes fluttered open; she glanced around the room and sat up.
"He did it," she said in awe.
The sound of her voice woke the other two women, and they sat up and stared at her.
"What?" Nayru asked.
"He did it," Farore repeated.
"Oh no. How long has he been free?" Din groaned.
"Five years," Farore replied, looking at the crystal table, which had been carved out of a giant crystal. The table supplied them with information that they couldn't get themselves.
"So it's finally happened," Nayru mused.
"But, if he got loose…" Din suddenly realized.
"Tarok also escaped," Farore finished.
Fear shone on each of their faces, and Farore covered her face with her hands.
…
A dark figure slipped into the Lodge, and he quickly observed Skiff preparing his weapons.
"Did he come?" he hissed eagerly.
"What do you know about this, Shadow?" Skiff angrily asked.
"I know everything," Shadow smiled.
"So why did you ask me if he came?" Skiff regretted the loss of words.
"That I do not know," Shadow studied his gray boots.
"Since you must know, he did," Skiff scowled, strapping his newly sharpened sword to his belt.
"And he challenged you to a duel? Where?" the small boy in gray eagerly asked.
"Yes, he did. We agreed on the west field. Now get out of here. I have no desire to talk with you," Skiff growled, throwing a knife at the gray clad figure.
Shadow easily dodged the knife, but the knife barely missed his falcon. He gave Skiff an angry look and slipped out the door.
"One of these times, I'm gonna kill that boy," Skiff thought, sliding a knife down his boot.
…
Bishop slipped out of the city and found the west field. He quickly searched the area for traps of any sort.
"What have we here?" Bishop mused, and a slow smile spread across his face.
He unlaced his whips and stepped back a few paces; he let his whips slice through the air and land on a camouflaged metal contraption. The piece of metal snapped upward with such force that it would have snapped a leg in half.
"You coward," Bishop growled to the air.
He searched around again and found nine more of the metal traps, but one of the traps almost caught Jarek. After tweaking the battleground to his satisfaction, Bishop climbed a tree and waited, while his wolf slunk into the dark forest. A gray clad figure hid himself in the shadows of the forest, and the afternoon slowly slid into dusk.
A dark figure was perched atop a small outcropping of rocks. A cloak hung loosely about his body and his face was shadowed from his hood. He settled himself more comfortably and waited for Skiff and his crew to appear.
As dusk faded, many torches emerged from Clocktown. Skiff stood at the head of the group, and he glanced uneasily around for Bishop.
"Don't worry. I'm here," Bishop's cold voice called.
Skiff flinched and called back, "Where are you? I can't see you."
"I can see you," Bishop returned.
Behind his back, Skiff motioned for a few of his men to search the forest, and he called, "I like to be able to see my opponents."
"Get used to disappointment," Bishop returned.
Suddenly, a cry of pain erupted from the forest, and a white-faced man pulled himself into the clearing. From beneath the knee, his leg was gone.
"Come fight me, coward!" Skiff challenged.
"Me? A coward? Where would you get that idea?"
"Taking out my men with my-" he paused when he suddenly realized that Bishop had rigged his whole cheating system. All of his traps were gone. Skiff's face paled.
"First, the rules. Only you and I fight. No one else. Agreed?" Bishop asked.
"Fine," Skiff nervously replied, glancing about.
A smirk slid across Bishop's lips as he sent his eager whips toward their target. Skiff heard the hiss of the whips and whirled around, but he was too late. The whips wrapped themselves around his wrists and pulled him forward. Bishop launched himself from the tree and crashed down on Skiff.
"Come on!" Bishop roared in challenge.
He released his whips and danced back, while Skiff's injured wrists reached down and pulled his sword from its sheathe. Bishop danced around Skiff and flicked his whips around the man's legs, and the whips ripped some flesh from Skiff's legs. Before Skiff could react, Bishop was already gone, and his whips were streaking at him from a new angle. This continued for half an hour.
In the loose circle that surrounded the two fighters, one Rogue leaned over to the man next to him.
"The boss can't hit this guy!" he whispered in awe.
"Yeah, this kid is good. I've never seen anyone use whips in combat this well before," the man whispered back. They both turned their attention back to the fight.
Blood was staining the ground around Skiff, and Bishop was still attacking him. Bishop's whips relentlessly ripped at Skiff's flesh, and Skiff still hadn't gotten a hit in.
"And now, for my trademark," Bishop smirked as he sent his whips soaring in a deadly arch. One whip wrapped itself around Skiff's neck, and the other wrapped itself around Skiff's wrists. Bishop jerked on his whips, and Skiff fell to his knees.
"You are not fit to be a leader. If I can handle you this easily, I couldn't imagine what my superiors could do to you," Bishop spat, looking down at him in disgust.
"Please, spare me," Skiff pleaded with a pale face.
"No," Bishop calmly replied and jerked his whips.
A look of horror crossed Skiff's face as his head was slowly ripped from his shoulders. The rest of the gang gasped.
"Anyone else?" Bishop asked in a threatening tone, raising his whips in challenge.
The gang glanced uneasily at each other and slowly dispersed. Soon, only Bishop was left standing in the field with Skiff's corpse. His hands slowly released themselves from his whips, and he wound his whips back up. As he whistled for Jarek, he heard a soft thump. He quickly dropped to the ground and rolled sharply to the left. Soft laughter followed him.
"A bit tense, are we?" a voice called.
Bishop warily stood up while a dark figure slowly unmelted itself from the darkness. It was a man wearing a dark cloak.
"Who are you?" Bishop warily asked the newcomer.
"Me? I'm no one. The real question is, who are you?" the dark man asked.
"Bishop," he replied.
"I watched your performance tonight. Very impressive. Why are you wasting your time with these so-called gangs? Why don't you skip them?" the man asked, slowly approaching.
"What do you mean?" Bishop warily asked.
"Why don't you skip directly to the Leader? Your performance was impressive enough. I could get you in," the man said in a low tone.
"How do I know that I can trust you?" Bishop warily inquired, and his whips appeared in his hands.
"That, I can't answer," the man held up his hands in resignation, but he finally reached Bishop.
"Trust me. You don't want to turn this up," he told Bishop in a low tone.
Then he asked, "Are you a tracker?"
"Yes," Bishop uncertainly answered.
"Then, for your evaluation, I think I might have a mission for you. I can't guarantee it, but I think that you'd like it," the man mused, and his tall form loomed in the moonlight.
"I never said I was going to accept," Bishop answered, unconsciously stepping back a bit.
"This isn't a yes or no question. You're coming whether you like it or not," the man growled.
Before Bishop could say anything, the man whistled sharply, and a small figure ran out of the forest. A white falcon pierced the dark sky and settled on the gray figure's shoulder.
"Shadow. Glad you could make it," sarcasm plainly showed in the man's voice.
Before Shadow could reply, the man turned back to Bishop. "Bishop, get your wolf and follow me. Quickly."
Bishop whistled slowly and Jarek loped up to him. Jarek snarled at the other two forms. In reply, the man's hand stretched out toward the wolf, and Jarek shrank down as if the man had struck him.
"Hey! Stop," Bishop growled, knocking the man's hand away.
"Follow me," the man told him, but he never took his eyes off of Jarek.
The man and Shadow disappeared into the forest, and Bishop realized that he had no choice but to follow them. He whistled for Jarek to come, and Jarek cowered by Bishop's legs. They disappeared into the forest after the other two men.
Author's note: I hope that you liked this chapter, and I hope that you'll continue to check my stories out.