12 – The Trial

It was a revolving corridor. It just had to be. Nothing normal ever happened in the Shadow Lord's life.

The little party wobbled from side to side as the tunnel – built completely from smooth, grey metal that shone like the skin of a Zora – made its silent slow rotation. Steadying himself against the sway of the ground, Link glanced over his shoulder, saw the dark arrowhead of an anchor fly through the opening they'd just entered and let out a frustrated breath. "Not good," he muttered.

"It looks like," the ReDead said, a queasy look on his face as he held out his arms to keep his balance, "that the young pirate lady is going to follow us in."

The Shadow Lord favoured him with a sour grin. "I'm glad you're here to inform us of these things," he said, feeling irritation itch at his heart. "Are you, perchance, trying to fill in Navi's ever-so-slightly overrated role in her absence?"

Not waiting for a reply, Link looked up ahead to see Simon DeLance lurch onwards, slipping occasionally against the smooth metallic floor, the young man still in the grip of his strange trance. "Treasure..." he muttered. "I can feel it..."

Link's eyes snapped shut as a sharp light momentarily flashed in his line of sight. Shaking his head, he blinked and saw that Hawthorne was spiralling around and around, her eyes bulging. "Dizzy..." she moaned. "I feel so dizzy."

"Don't worry, love," the Shadow Lord replied as he saw Simon pause at the far end of the corridor. "It would seem our esteemed Mr DeLance has found an exit." Simon pulled at a metal plate, snapped it free with a spark and then, without waiting for the others, he slipped inside.

Urgent echoing voices sprinkled with anger and indignation began to rise up from behind the little party. The Salvage Hunters were coming, Link realised. They had to move. "Mr Red," he said, motioning at the jolly little man who stood unfazed by all the movement, a content smile sitting on his face. "I'm going to follow the boy in. You bring the others, mate."

"Yes, sah!"

Link tensed, pushing all his weight onto his feet. He waited, watching...watching...then leapt, aiming for the small section of metal that was just making its most lowermost rotation. He landed, stumbled as the corridor rocked around him, then leapt again, once more going for the part of the room that stayed the most level. He sprang up again, rolled and – found himself floating, the air rippling around him. Link raised an eyebrow. "Interesting," he said under his breath as he glided down to the ground. He didn't have the time to work out exactly what had just happened; he'd have to dwell on it when he was a tad less preoccupied. A few more jumps later and the Shadow Lord found himself facing the small opening Simon had made. Without even pausing to take a quick peek, the Shadow Lord of Castleton dived in.

Darkness met him for a heartbeat, suffocating him as though he'd just been plunged into the depths of the murkiest of oceans and then, just as quickly, he found himself rolling out onto a smooth – and thankfully stable – marble floor. Link brushed himself down as he stood. Up ahead, he saw Simon, still as a statue, gazing up in awe.

"What is this place?" the young man asked. It appeared that the trance had finally been broken. Did that mean, Link mused, that the Treasure was here?

The Shadow Lord sidled up to Simon and followed his gaze. A forest of uneven marble columns, illuminated by shafts of light of no clear source, loomed up ahead of them. At the far end of the chamber, sitting atop a flight of stairs, was a giant pair of double-doors, a huge lock, glistening dully in the faint light, hanging from the handles. And, in front of the doors, floating in mid-air and caught in a pillar of light, there rotated-

"What's that?" It was Hawthorne – the others had caught up to Simon and Link at last.

The Shadow Lord sighed, pure scorn dripping from his face. "It's a..."

The others blinked as his voice descended into an incomprehensible mumble. "A what?" asked Hawthorne.

"It's a..." He did it again.

Simon turned to him "A what?"

"It's a..." Link closed his eyes, a painful expression of embarrassment hanging from his face. "A...'Boss'...Key." He spat the words as though they tasted foul on his tongue. "Because, as you are probably aware, there's nothing like labelling something with the most inane and obvious of all names. 'Boss' hereby referring to the Guardian of Doom no doubt hiding behind those doors there."

"Why," said the ReDead, his voice echoing around the empty chamber, "did they leave the Key just exactly where we could find it? Why didn't they just leave the door unlocked?"

"I think, mate," the Shadow Lord replied, "that aside from you, I and anyone else who has the common sense to ask such questions, the educational and intellectual level of the people of Hyrule can't be too high."

A whisper of rustled fabric filled the chamber. The little group looked up, surprised, to see that the columns of marble now had new residents – standing atop each one was a small hooded figure, cloaked in black. They stared down at the party with cold, dark eyes. A voice rumbled through the air. "We," it said, "are the Judges."

Hawthorne scrunched up her face as she peered up. "The Judges?"

"That is what we said," the voice boomed impatiently. "Judgement must be passed today, and it is one of you who will face trial." A beat. "If we find you guilty, we will deliver a punishment to each and everyone of you." Another beat. " If we find you innocent, the Boss Key will be yours."

"One of us?" squeaked Hawthorne. "Who?"

The Shadow Lord of Castleton, a sinking sensation tarring the pits of his stomach, hung his head and sighed. He should have known that this would be coming. He should have known that his actions – incomprehensible to most peopleas they were – would finally be taken to task. After all, it was a tall order for him to be expect that he could have gone through his entire life without finally being caught out. He stepped forward.

"Only one here," the Judges went on, "is as foul and as despicable as to have warranted our special attention. Please, step forward-"

Link closed his eyes and took another step.

"- Mr Simon DeLance!"

A shaft of light fell upon Simon, revealing the terrified expression hanging from his face. "What?" he said, his eyes darting in panic. "What did I do?"

"Your crime, Mr DeLance," the Judges boomed, "is that you are, without doubt, the single most desolate, despicable, downright unsociable, pathetically miserable wretch in the whole of Hyrule."

Simon gaped in shock, open-mouthed. Then, as the Judges' words registered in his mind, Simon stiffened in indignation. "Hey!" he protested.

"And," the Judges said, "so that we are not accused of being unjust, we have decided to let one of yourassociates speak in your defence – Link, the Hero of Time and Shadow Lord of Castleton."

Link chewed the inside of his cheek as a shaft of light illuminated his face. "Let me just make sure that I've understood you, mate –Your Honour – Your Mate," he said. "You want me to prove that young Mr DeLance here is not, in fact, the single most desolate, despicable, downright unsociable, pathetically miserable wretch in the whole of Hyrule?"

"That is correct."

Swivelling on his heels, the Shadow Lord turned to face his party, a forced grin on his face. "Alright, my friends, I think, given the circumstances, the best course of action for us would be to start digging our own graves right about now. We are officially dead."

"Hey!" Simon protested.

"I object!" They all turned to the source of the voice, just in time to see Excellent Radcliffe, surrounded by her crew, slip into the chamber and march straight up to the Shadow Lord. "He shouldn't be concerned about defending his friend here, he should be more worried about defending himself-" she scooped her axe from her belt, a ribbon of light running down its sharpened edge, then brought it a stop inches from Link's face "- from me."

The Shadow Lord blinked, unfazed. "Is there some sort of unresolved issue between you and I, love?"

Excellent's eyes bulged. "Unresolved issue!" Her fingers, the skin stretched, gripped harder around the handle of her axe. "You destroyed my painting!" she spat. "You led me on!"

Link's eyes darkened. "You led yourself on, love," he replied. "If you recall not once did I say or do anything that would have clearly given you the wrong idea – your own imagination did that. I did what I had to do to get off your ship and back to the Princess."

Excellent blinked. "Princess?" she said. "What Princess?"

"My wife. She's in danger and it was no help to me at all to be stuck with you on your little multicoloured love boat."

Something softened in Excellent's eyes, though her voice remained as hard as flint. "Well, if you needed help why didn't you just ask me for it?"

Instinctively, the Shadow Lord opened his mouth to let fly with an acid retort. His brain, though, hadn't managed to catch up. He scowled, defeated. "Oh."

"'Oh' he says!" Excellent cried. "It seems that you consider your needs greater than mine or anyone else who gets in your way! Pathetic. It's people like you that drove me to become a Salvage Hunter."

Link flinched. That was twice. Twice this young woman had caught him out and, with a deep sense of bitterness, he didn't like it – it wasn't everyday that he was stung with the same criticism that he lashed out to others. He wasn't going to give up, though. "It's just a picture, woman!" he said. "It's not something essential that you need, it's not-" He paused. Once again, as had been his habit over the past five years, he tried toimagine what the Princess would say had she been here.

Excellent watched him warily. "It's not what?"

Sometimes, Link, the memory of the Princess' voice floated into his mind, you do go a little too far. The Shadow Lord looked straight at Excellent, his lips pursed. "I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it.

Excellent leaned her head to one side, pushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes with her free hand, and motioned for him to go on.

"I'm really terribly sorry for what I did to your picture. And I'm sorry if you felt that I led you in." He tried to swallow the sour taste from his mouth. "I apologise."

Blinking, Excellent Radcliffe watched the Shadow Lord of Castleton like a cat would watch its prey. "An apology won't bring my picture back."

"But it's sincere," he replied. He added a quick smile for emphasis. "From the heart." His mind raced, desperately trying to pick out a sage word or two that Zelda would have said had she been here. "After all, love makes the world go around."

Link grinned at Excellent.

Excellent stared at Link.

Link grinned some more at Excellent.

"No, it doesn't," she said at last.

"Enough!" The Judges' singular voice rolled through the air like thunder. "On with the trial." Dark eyes fixed themselves onto the Shadow Lord. "Defence...how do you plead?"

Link licked his lips. "Guilty, Your Mate."

Simon stared. "What?"

"Defence..." The Judges sounded as though they were clearing their collective throats. "We expected a little more...meat...to your argument."

His mind racing, the Shadow Lord of Castleton tried desperately to find a line of reasoning that would get them out of this somewhat dire predicament. "He's just a good boy, really," Link tried, his voice faltering. "Life of every party. Our lives would be so much different without him." He couldn't resist. "They'd be a lot brighter for one."

Simon closed his eyes. "You are not helping."

"How long," asked the Judges, "have you known Mr DeLance, Defence?"

"Oh, about..." Link flipped the time crystal into his hand "...three or four days. Give or take an hour or two."

Had they possessed eyebrows, the Judges would have been raising them. "Is there anyone in this room who has known Mr DeLance for a considerably longer period of time?"

Hawthorne gazed around the room, whistling. Mr Red took a sudden interest in his shoes. Cupid started polishing his bow. The ReDead bent down to pick up a limb that had conveniently just dropped off. Excellent Radcliffe and her crew took a collective step backwards.

A sigh escaped from the Judges. "Then may we suggest that the Shadow Lord reflect back on his short association with Mr DeLance and conceive a more stronger argument? Unless, of course, you wish to concede, in which case, proceed...on your way to oblivion."

There was a cough from the back of the room. "I thought," one solitary Judge said, his voice hushed and furtive, "that we were just going to banish them from the Temple and destroy the Key."

"Yes?" the other Judges whispered back.

"Well, what's with all this 'proceed...on your way to oblivion' stuff?"

"Oh, it's just," the other Judges cleared their collective throats once again, "we always wanted to say that." They turned their attention back to the Shadow Lord. "Do you concede?"

Link fidgeted in agitation. "Just give me a moment, Your Mate."

"You!" snapped Hawthorne as she glided up to Mr C. "Yes, you! You're going to help!"

Cupid gave her a dismissive scowl. "I ain't no Service Fairy, fool!" he spat. "I'll do whatever I please, whenever I want."

Growling, Hawthorne grabbed Cupid by his tunic and leaned in close, her eyes wide. "You. Are. Going. To. Help."

"Why should I, sucka?"

"Because it's the right thing to do, you idiot!" Her tiny form trembled with rage. "You and your 'righteous' brothers...you only look out for each other...you only ever help the people who think like you do!"

Cupid let out a breath, unimpressed. "So?"

She shook him hard and snarled. "Don't you realise how stupid that is? Are the rest of us not even alive just because we don't share the same beliefs as you?" She shook him some more. "Look at me! I'm alive, aren't I? I can breathe, laugh, and cause you some serious damage, can't I? Help us, or I'll make sure that you won't be alive! Do what's right!"

Cupid glared at her, his forehead creased with fury. "I'll help you, sucka...but only so that I can get out of this twisted Temple – no other reason but that, understand, fool?"

"Fine!"

"Shadow Lord," the Judges spoke again. "Have you something to say?"

Link's mind flew back to the moment that he'd met Simon, to the things the young man had spoken of high on the cathedral ledge above Mountbasten. "Mr DeLance's only crime..." he said, his voice still uncertain, "...is that he cares."

"Hmm..." the Judges replied. "Interesting tactic. Carry on."

"You see," the Shadow Lord continued, gaining confidence in his words, "young MrDeLance is only unhappy because of the cruelty and misery that he sees all around him. And, because he's such a caring, sensitive soul, all the pain in the world cuts the poor mate to the heart. In effect, when he sees other little blighters in pain, he himself feels pain, and when he witnesses the injustices that we so casually inflict on one other, he himself feels anger. And you know what, Your Mate?"

"Pray tell."

"I'd rather have him like that than be one of those empty headed aimless sheep that see all this horror and feel nothing inside, feel no inspiration to go get up and do something. I'd rather him be the way he is than be like those children masquerading as adults who, when indulging in a spot of recreational reading or sitting at a theatrical show, cry when their imaginary characters get hurt, but don't shed a single tear when real people suffer, who weep when their favourite tournament fighter loses, but are stony-faced when real people lose real, more precious things." Link was rolling now. "The only problem with Mr DeLance, the glaring flaw that I don't believe that he himself is aware of, is that he's out of balance. It isn't as bad as he thinks out there, in fact, if he'd just pull himself out of himself, he'd see that there's a lot more to smile about than to frown about."

"Is this true, Mr DeLance?" the Judges asked. "Is it that, if you just stopped to take a breath, that you'd actually be happy?"

Simon glanced around, completely lost. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Shadow Lord surreptitiously gesture at him. "Oh," he said, his voice blank. "Yes. I am happy. See?" He forced a smile to his face. "Actually," he went on as his eyes found the rest of his party. "I am...because these past few days...I've been with friends. People who have, despite the fact that I must have annoyed them to their wits end, still managed to look out for me no matter what." A smile came to him, a genuine one. "I'm happy that I met these people...these friends."

"And," the Shadow Lord cut in. "I, too, am proud to have Mr Simon DeLance as a friend. Very proud."

Silence filled the room. One of the Judges stroked his chin in thought. "We hear your eloquent words and are swayed," the Judges said in unison. "However...we have one minor concern." They turned to Simon. "Is Mr DeLance actually capable of the emotion of love?"

"Now!" cried Hawthorne.

Mr C shot into the air, reached back into his quiver, pulled free an arrow, nocked it into his bow, and set it free. Spinning, the tiny arrow zipped across the room, deftly dodged the myriad columns, then slapped straight into Simon's head. The young man blinked, dazed. Then, ever-so-slowly, a grin started to spread across his face. He staggered across the room, lurching as though he was in a trance once more.

"Where..." asked the Judges hesitantly, "is he going?"

Excellent Radcliffe, her arms folded across her chest, watched the proceedings with detached interest. Mild alarm pricked at her heart as she noted that Simon DeLance seemed to be marching straight towards her. "Where is he going?"

Simon stopped in front of her. She stared at him, alarmed. He grinned. She began to back off. With a sudden last lurch, Simon DeLance threw himself at Excellent's feet.

"I love you," Simon said. "Truly, madly, deeply."

"What?"

"Marry me!"

"No!"

"Hold my hand?"

"I rest my case!" cried Link, winking.

The Judges turned to each other. Furtive whispering followed, punctuated by one or two cries of exasperation. Finally, they turned back. "In lieu of your innovative methodology," the Judges said, "we have decided to acquit Mr DeLance of all charges. The Boss Key is yours." A flash of light followed, engulfing the chamber and, when their sight returned, Link and his friends saw the Judges had gone, curling wisps of smoke the only trace of their presence. The Boss Key clattered to the ground.

"Um," said Excellent. "Would you mind not clinging to my leg, please?"

The Shadow Lord of Castleton stepped over to his friends. "Miss Hawthorne, Mr C," he said. "I'm in your debt." The two Fairies beamed in response. "Now, let's just pick up the Key and-"

"Hey..." It was Simon, shuffling back to his feet. "Hey, wait. Mr Link."

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to say..." Simon swallowed as the others watched in expectation. "I wanted to say 'thank you.' And...and I'm proud that you consider me a friend, too."

Simon smiled at Link.

Link stared back.

Simon held out his hand.

Link opened his mouth. "Bwahahahahahahhahahahaha!"

"I should have known.," Simon said, sighing as he shook his head. "I just should have known."

A/N: Miss Vladimir T. Hamster asked in her review how I write so quickly...the simply answer is that I write ahead. I had five chapters already done before I even posted the prologue to WotF. It means I can plan everything out and rewrite when necessary (and add author's notes such as this one!). Hope you're all enjoying the story!