A.N: Hey my fantastic readers, sorry for the wait and hope you're keeping safe and well. As always thanks so much for the reviews and messages. I really appreciate your support. This may not be the longest chapter but its probably been the hardest to write.
Please keep the reviews and messages coming. It's the best motivator and the only real way of telling whether the story's keeping you engaged or leaving you yawning. I hope this chapter continues with the former.
Now let the action commence.
Chapter 22 – Chasing phantoms
The Royal Kitchens – 203 days A.G
Link emerged from the stifling heat and bustle of the royal kitchens to the deserted calm of the corridor outside. Deserted, that is, apart from the two guards at the door whose greetings fell on deaf ears, failing to penetrating the hero's deep ruminations as he ambled off down the passageway, paying no heed to where his feet took him. Had he not been so lost in his own thoughts he might have sarcastically noted such rudeness as a welcome, if unintentional, addition to his cover as the dour dejected hero shambling home following his first humiliating punishment. As it was though, his mind was far too absorbed in what real tortures potentially awaited him should he fail to keep up his cover stories, both of them; the alibi for his secret meetings and the fairy tale fabrication of his adventures. At least… that was what MOST of his brain was concerned with!
There was however a rogue element at play which insisted on disrupting his ponderings, namely the moaning mirage of his mischievous lost friend, an impression in particularly poor taste given the guilt of tinkering, no matter how necessarily, with her legacy. Nevertheless, his subconscious mischievous streak responsible for this perverse pastiche rarely seemed to care about such things as tact or sensitivity… rather like the real Midna.
"Why didn't you knab some of those delicious ribs or one of those pastries? No one would have noticed in the commotion." Came Midna's whining tone and in his peripheral vision he caught sight of her imp form hovering weightlessly along next him as he walked, the luminous glow of her orange hair and eyes in sharp contrast to gentle warmth of the flickering candle light. The illusion was so potent, given how her memory had been stirred, that he almost turned to face her. He hastened to remind himself that this was simply a manifestation of his own mind, the mischievous streak he'd long neglected, now given a new lease of life through Midna's influence. Yet with each reappearance something niggled in his brain… something uncanny…
He pushed the niggling uncertainty aside, mentally retorting "Why do you ask when you already know the answer?" He had enough to worry about without his sanity being added to the list.
"To remind you to live a little. Besides, the answer stinks! Do you really think Romah would mind a couple of absent pork ribs after the brandy you gave him?..."
"That was a gift, not a bribe!" He protested but mischief simply waved it away.
"Bah, a gift's still worthy of something. Pork ribs… buttered potatoes… chocolate and raspberry taaarrrrttt, Hmmmmm. Just imagine what you could have had if you were just a little braver."
"Don't you mean unscrupulous?"
"Oh, sooooo overdramatic. It's only procuring a little light refreshment."
"Why do you care so much what we eat anyway?! The simple stuff's suited me just fine before."
"Sure, it's edible but it's not delectable. Besides at the moment, with all your needless worrying, you'll shake your stomach out of wanting anything. Seriously, relax! Zelda knows what she's doing…" The imp broke from his side to hover in front of him, her distinctive toothy grin splitting her face as she practically purred "and I know deep down you're secretly dying for your first "private Lesson" with her, no matter how many lies it takes."
"Seriously, I get enough trouble from my heart without you sticking your oar in too! Wont you gave it a rest."
"Oh, but your heart and I are in cahoots together. Besides it's so fun to tease you."
How could his imagination produce something so lifelike? Something didn't fit. Maybe…
No sooner had the question popped up than it was dislodged from his head as he tripped on an unexpected staircase which had snuck up on him in his distracted state. The mirthful mirage of his erstwhile friend unsurprisingly showed no sympathy for his misfortune, giggling and wagging a pointy digit, as he picked himself up. "Eeeheehee, perhaps you should spend more time looking where you're going and less time pondering useless questions you already know the answers to."
Despite his increasing doubts about his mysterious "imaginary friend", she – or it or whatever it was – was right about one thing. He'd been so caught up in his mental argument, he'd failed to where his feet had taken him. A quick scan of his surroundings revealed the destination his meandering malaise had brought him to. "Ah, up to the noble wing. Care to take a short cut or are you Cucoo?" Midna's voice goaded.
Link simply rolled his eyes and began to ascend the staircase. He did tend to avoid the noble wing, so as to minimize the risk of run ins with their residents and another potential political disaster. This time though he didn't have to worry, as most of them were currently dining with the princess and this route was, indeed, a shortcut. Course set, he turned his attention back to the potential consequences of selling his adventures as a sensationalised fairy tale for the masses… or perhaps the origins of his imaginary…
"You know, I'm surprised. All this worrying and yet you brush over the inevitable conclusion many will draw from such a fairy tale." The mirage jumped in, dislodging the question yet again.
"And what's that?"
Arriving in the noble wing, he could have been forgiven for thinking the twilight had returned, given the gloom that met him. The candle lighters had clearly done a lacklustre job tonight, most of the old candles having not been replaced, some completely burnt out, others flickering their final flames, mere pinpricks of orange in shadows of the cavernous corridor, far grander in design than all but the royal wing itself. A few candles still had enough life in them to light the way for those not gifted with his superior night vision but not enough to dispel the eerie atmosphere. Nevertheless, he set off down the corridor, curved like a giant crescent, his night vision and sparse flickering beacons leading the way.
Mischief was silent for a moment, almost as though it expected him to guess its clearly devious revelation. Either that or it was just some sick dramatic flair. Finally, Midna's lilting voice crowed triumphantly. "Really? Heart and mischief trump brain and, so called, rationality in the intelligence department, it seems. We figured it out ages ago. Think… a fairy tale… a hero… and a princess… what always happens? What might people assume?"
"Oh, Goddesses NO!" He'd suffered enough just from Telma's teasing. He didn't need half the kingdom joining in and given his experience it wasn't hard to guess which half.
"You always have the worst outlook, don't you!"
He was about to retort when raised voices from one of the rooms ahead caught his attention, bringing him to a halt just round the corner from the door to that particular nobles courters. A man and a woman? He didn't recognise the woman's voice, spitting caustic contempt with every word, but from the man's he could hazard a guess.
"I've never seen anything so pathetic! Even from you!" Spat Lady Halshaw.
"Really my dear? I would have thought my years lost in the bottle would have provided plenty such experience, but if her ladyship finds my sobriety so offensive I'm sure I could rustle up another bottle." Lord Halshaw's drawling reply oozed sardonic bitterness.
"Hiding cowardice behind conceited wit. You cower here rather than face dining with the council and the princess. You match your impotence in the bedroom with such a display."
"After all the years you've known me yet you still can't distinguish cowardice and impotence from mere festering distaste. I simply have no desire, nor any requirement to associate with those vainglorious pricks and perfidious vipers for every moment of the day. Your presence is more than sufficient, my dear."
"And to think I once mistook you for a man of ambition. The naivety of youth!"
"Contrary to your preconceptions, not all ambition revolves around power and wealth. Besides it is I who made the far graver mistake. I once foolishly mistook you for a lady!"
The bitter argument continued unabated and rapidly became little more than a buzzing in his ears as his mind turned back to his own worries. Skulking stationary and silent in the gloom, the oppressive shadows, combined with Midna's enigmatic doppelganger brought his thoughts inevitably back to her legacy and impact of their rewritten history.
"Come on! You know she'd understand. Give her some credit. I w… I mean, she was the brains of our partnership after all…" Why would part of his own consciousness trip on words that weren't even spoken?! "… Besides she wouldn't have any interest in reverence or hero worship and the last thing she'd want is for you to feel guilty about it."
"She may not have wanted me to feel guilty for it but I'm sure she'd appreciate some recognition and if anyone deserves it, she does."
"I'm sure she'd appreciate your praise and concern far more than hero worship from a bunch of strangers."
"You seem awfully sure on that."
"Well I… naturally being an agent of mischief, I'm more in touch with her than the rest of you." There it was again. Hesitation and, dare he say… discomfort… and the answer itself…?
In this half-light, the phantom Midna's illusionary state was brought into sharp relief, unaffected by the trembling shadows which danced over everything they could touch… but they couldn't touch her. Link froze, a chill running up his spine as he stared at this inexplicable spectre of his lost friend, only now truly taking in the unnaturally perfect illusion of her existence, something which surely even crystal-clear memories or imagination couldn't produce; the glow of her amber gaze holding emotions that shouldn't exist, the nuance of her movements expressing too much for mere reflections of reminiscence.
"So what? You think I'm some sort of ghost now?! You know Midna isn't dead right? Besides you already know what I am." The imp scoffed with casual dismissiveness, yet something in her mannerisms didn't fit… handwringing… a nervous tick.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His assumption didn't fit and, as he gazed in haunted silence at the Mirage of his lost friend - the trusted companion with whom he had shared so much, the one person who probable came to know him better than any other - he came to realise, deep down, her existence had always been suspect. It had simply been an easy and comforting lie to avoid facing the inevitably darker alternatives. Also, as he now recalled, pretty much every attempt to ponder those alternatives while in the "phantom's" presence resulted in her – or it – redirecting him with some other topic, seemingly handpicked to shake him up. It was his own tactic in difficult subjects, yet whatever the phantom was demonstrated greater mastery of it than he did.
Was he losing his mind? Was he possessed? haunted?
A single glowing amber eye meet his sceptical blue orbs and the illusionary imp's mask of perpetual cheekiness began to falter. Nevertheless she, or it, tried to bat it away with rapidly fracturing air of nonchalance. "Bah! you know you're not insane right?!"
Was he insane?
"Link, you are not insane!" The phantom Midna blurted emphatically.
Link? It had addressed him by name! His body tensed and his pulse quickened, while the form of Midna shrank beneath his intense gaze, façade breaking completely, clearly aghast at her mistake. She would not meet his eyes.
"What are you?" he asked mentally, projecting cold calmness he did not feel. The buzzing in his ears was growing.
…
The mirage did not reply, instead slowly inching away, face averting and wringing hands.
"What are you?" Link audibly whispered.
The imp turned to him with a forlorn imploring gaze.
"Please, don't do this." came her weak mumble.
"What are you?!" he hissed through gritted teeth.
Midna suddenly drifted closer ascending to eye level still holding an imploring gaze in her amber eye. "Please… Please don't. Knowing will only make it harder for you."
It was a tone he'd only heard Midna take on two occasions, two of the worst moments of their partnership; when she lay dying, pleading with Zelda to save him rather than herself and… it had crept, soft and subtle, yet undeniably painful into her final fateful words to him.
He felt a lump in his throat and his entire body stiffened.
"Link… I… See you later"
Suddenly he was rent from reality as the scene began to replay in his mind's eye; Midna's true regal form dissolving into the mirrors ethereal light, a soft melancholy smile on her lips – the last they'd ever share – as her solitary tear drifted inescapably towards the mirror. He had, of course, been oblivious to its devastating effects, standing by and gormlessly watching it happen. Then it connected and the fractures started… and he just stood there like a stump, mind struggling to accept what it was seeing, while his body chafed in shock. Seconds later the mirror shattered, wrenching apart the closest bond he'd ever known.
Then it repeated and again he stood and watched helpless.
As the cycle continued into its third round the desperate questioning began, as so often before, though generally in the dark and comfort of his bed. Why had she done it? Why hadn't he realised what she was doing? Why hadn't he tried to stop it? Why hadn't Zelda?
The repetitions and questions continued to whirl, however they were starting to get drowned out with the ever-increasing buzzing. Wait was that in his head or…?
Link was jolted back to the present by the very real sound of violently smashing glass, ripping through the cold stone wall of the Halshaw family courters. He whirled towards the vicious crashing, reaching instinctually for the grip of his non-existent sword, his heart racing as his ears pricked for the slightest commotion from beyond the grey barrier. The bitter argument had ceased and in the immediate aftermath of the crash, all was eerily silent.
Then, with a tone so dripping in casual condescension and contempt Link could practically smell it, seeping through the solid stone wall, Lady Halshaw hissed "Perhaps in sobriety you will learn the lesson you clearly failed to grasp in intoxication."
"Oh, I learnt the real lesson long ago, my dear." The Lord muttered darkly.
As soon as Link had recovered from the shock of the crash, his mind instantly jumped back to Midna and he whirled around to search for the phantom of his lost friend, momentarily forgotten in the commotion. The mysterious mirage had vanished, yet her words still lingered in his thoughts. Even as he turned his attention back to Halshaw and what he had seemingly just overheard, his mind was still running through them over and over. Knowing will only make it harder for you?! What could that…
His musings were halted almost immediately when Lord Halshaw staggered out of his courters and propped himself heavily against one of the decorative suites of armour. The man's head may have been covered with a hand nursing it but Link could smell the bloody wound on his scalp. The unpleasant stench, which he knew far too well, only served to heighten the disturbing sensation he was somehow haunted. Despite this apprehension his thoughts moved to the wounded Lord slumped against the armour.
The truth was, he no longer knew what to make of the man who had caused him so much trouble all those months back or how the man would react to his help. First impressions counted for a lot and Lord Halshaw's couldn't have been much more repugnant if he'd tried. The wary hero still held a healthy suspicion towards the noble, however their last meeting had given him pause, particularly after he'd confirmed the brandy's authenticity… and the frankly astonishing value! Should he expose his presence and offer help or vanish into the shadows the way he came? His conscience cried for the former but distrust protested for the latter.
The decision was made for him when he suddenly became aware he was being watched. Lord Halshaw had spotted him, a single beady eye peering out from behind the hand nursing his head, regarding the hero with suspicion. Link returned his gaze and for a moment they merely stared silently at each other, trying to decipher one another's intentions. Then the Lord coughed, removed the hand from his wound and spoke… cautiously "Sir Link… Is there any reason you happen to be skulking outside my courters at this hour? I know you have yet not returned to patrol duty."
For a moment Link did not answer, temporarily fixated on a thin trail of blood, appearing almost black in the gloom, trickling down Halshaw's forehead towards his eye. When his fixation broke he paused only briefly before replying honestly but warily "I simply got distracted and took a wrong turn, so I decided to take a shortcut… I didn't expect anybody to be here, it being dinner time and all…" The trail of blood he'd been watching reached the noble's wiry eyebrow, prompting the man to produce a handkerchief and wipe it away, grimacing. With notable reluctance, he voiced the concern of his arguably naive conscience. "Then I heard a crash and… do you… need help Lord Halshaw?"
Halshaw scoffed dismissively "What? This? Oh no, this is just an accident. I'm often clumsy, particularly with glass, in my lady's presence. I've survived far worse." The lie was blatant and the message obvious. This line of questioning would go no further. He clicked his tongue and turned the question back to the hero "This is also dinner time at the mess and yet here you are wandering the corridors of the castle off duty. Some might call that suspicious? Unless…?" Link was about to jump into defence, only for the Lord to seemingly be struck by revelation. "Ah yes, now I remember. I'm guessing you are returning from sentencing at the hands of her royal highness?"
The sarcasm he expected from such a response was either so subtle as to be undetectable or entirely absent. Given the "lightness" of his "punishment" and his experience with the fractious and cynical Lord he assumed it was the former and intended as a sly jibe at the nature of his sentence. He launched into his cover story only to be halted almost immediately as Halshaw snapped. "I do not need the details. Merely knowing justice has been served is enough."
This threw Link for a loop and he blurted thoughtlessly. "Really? That didn't satisfy Lord Vanhorn."
This seemed to pique the Lord's interest. "Oh, so Vanhorn's been sniffing around, has he? The king of the vipers has stirred from his burrow?" Halshaw paused briefly in thought and then took an unexpectedly formal and polite tone. "Hmmm. Link, would you mind accompanying me to the infirmary? It is, as you are no doubt aware, only a minor detour from the barracks."
Naturally, Halshaw's abrupt change in demeanour rang the bell of distrust in the hero's head, however he was nonetheless curious, so awkwardly acquiesced with a curt "alright"
They set off down the corridor, Link expecting the noble to elaborate on the purpose for his requested company, yet silence prevailed and tension quickly built as they descended the spiral staircase out of the noble wing. He took the silence as opportunity to examine his unexpected charge as they walked and came to a striking conclusion. Despite the nasty gash across the head, which was once again being nursed, this time beneath an increasingly bloody handkerchief, this was the healthiest and sharpest he'd ever seen the Lord. The doughy spherical figure had trimmed considerably, though not entirely, and he had lost the sickly half-dead visage he'd possessed those weeks prior in his old office. The Lord's sobriety did however reveal something he'd always presumed to be simply a quirk of the man's inebriation and weight issues but was now shown to be real: a noticeable limp which left the hero vaguely curious, though not enough to pry, particularly given the tension in the air.
When they emerged into another unimportant corridor, just as gloomy and poorly lit as the noble wing, Halshaw broke the silence. "Honestly, this is a shambolic disgrace! Don't the servants earn enough to keep the castle lit?!"
Link, still waiting for Halshaw's intentions to be revealed, merely grunted in vague agreement, though his observation had brought up another point of concern. In an effort to try and stimulate conversation and extract the reason for this escort mission, he decided to voice it. "I don't know about the servants but I'm more concerned by the lack of guards?..."
Halshaw scoffed "What? Didn't you hear? After all those posters cropping up in castle town Captain Ashei decided to divert more guards to night patrol duty in the town…" Oh yeah, he did recall Ashei mentioning it in passing. The Lord added with notable bitterness. "… An unwise move in my opinion but, as I am no longer in charge… I no longer have a say in such matters." he coughed and his bitterness receded as he continued, a shift which baffled Link given the words he spoke. "By the way I should congratulate you on your assistance with her highness regarding my successor."
Wait, was Halshaw trying the same trick as Vanhorn had earlier? He hadn't helped Zelda with deciding the new grand general! Heck, he didn't even know a decision had been reached, let alone who it was! It made no sense but he was sick and tired of court games, particularly this evening with so much on his mind "Look, I don't know what you're talking about but if you're trying to paint me as some revolutionary who carries influence with the princess then…"
"Ah, so that was Vanhorn's angle! To answer your question, no that was not what I was saying, although your actions have inevitably had an impact. In this particular regard I was referring to your rediscovery of a long-lost mutual acquaintance by the name of Alfonzo Codgins Demerara, who I heard through the grapevine is her highness's choice of successor to my post. It has certainly stirred up the court…"
"Including you?"
"No. On the contrary, I know Alfonzo and while he may not be a cultured speaker, he is an admirable and loyal soldier with much experience and though his age is hardly ideal I much prefer the defence of the realm to be left in the hands of a veteran of combat than any incontinent bureaucrat, particularly those who were lining up for my role. I disapproved of his dismissal at the time and am glad, for his sake, that you found him and revealed his existence to her Highness…"
Mentally and emotionally drained after many weighty topics with Zelda and the haunting enigma of phantom Midna - a subject which still claimed much of his thoughts and deliberations - Link was in no mood for Halshaw's blatant beating round the bush, particularly with his grinding voice. Nevertheless, he tried to subdue his impatience in his interjection – tried being the operative term! "I don't mean to be rude Lord Halshaw, but my so-called rediscovery of Alfonzo was simply a happy accident, which I'm sure you are well aware. I highly doubt you asked for my company to thank ME, of all people, for a happy accident so please… get to the point!"
"As you wish. I requested your company to deliver a warning."
"A warning?! Well then what was the whole thanks for finding Alfonzo routine in aid of?"
The Lord halted is his tracks and checked the corridor, before whirling round to face Link, lowering his voice to nothing more than a conspiratorial whisper. "Simply to convey that I am not among the many enemies you created, however unintentionally, by bringing him to Her Highness's attention. Your actions may have been entirely innocent in intent; nevertheless, the fact remains they inadvertently caused the very public humiliation of several prominent members of the council, chief among them being the king of the serpents himself, Lord Vanhorn; upsetting the balance of power at court. Now, I must confess, nothing gave me more delight than watching the much-deserved obloquy of my most conniving and despised enemies, however through this act alone they have become your enemies too."
"Her highness already warned me about Vanhorn." Link hissed.
This earned him a disparaging tut. "Her highness is, for all her wisdom, afflicted with overconfidence in her abilities in reading her opponents and thus underestimates the depths they are capable of sinking to in order to, as they see it, even the score. I advise you to take their threat rather more seriously and, if possible, convince her to do the same."
"Firstly, what makes you think she'd listen to me? Second, why in all Hyrule do you care? Particularly given your display in Ordon."
"Link, my intentions may have been deeply flawed and the specifics of my accusations inaccurate, but I was not entirely wrong in my suspicions. You may not have slept with her, indeed there may well not be any kind of romantic connection between the two you but… there is a connection nonetheless; be it mutual reverence or… possibly friendship. Regardless it is there… it's why, I suspect, she will listen… and it is all the more reason for you to be careful. You are both Vanhorn's enemies now and he may use that connection to take down two birds with one stone."
Link was taken aback, both be the bluntness of his statement and its accuracy. Halshaw hit remarkably close to the mark with the connection he and the princess shared, but he wasn't about to confirm it, especially given his continued suspicions of the Lord's intentions. "That's quite the assumption but even if it were true, it still doesn't explain why you give a damn?"
Halshaw sighed. "I had hoped our last meeting might have answered that question but given the magnitude of my prior indiscretions and disgraceful conduct I suppose I should have expected such scepticism. Link, I suffer no delusions we will ever be friends, indeed I have no desire to be, given our inherent lack of common ground and the vast gulf in our cultural acumen and class. Know however that I hold you in high regard for your services and bravery in saving the kingdom. I do not see you as my enemy and I hope, with time, you'll extend to me the same courtesy. Her highness and I may disagree on many issues but ultimately, I must admit she IS the best option to lead this kingdom, certainly a far better choice than Vanhorn. And if none of that convinces you then I simply point you to the old adage "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" and I can assure you, that viper IS my greatest foe."
Link was shocked to arrive at the seemingly undeniable conclusion of Lord Halshaw's words being entirely sincere and honest. He met the Lord's impassioned gaze with his own hard stare and found himself utterly convinced of the man's genuineness, a disconcerting notion, considering their past interactions. Nevertheless, given his experiences, he wanted to keep his cards close to his chest, simply nodding curtly "Ok, point taken and warning received. So, any advice?"
"Any secrets you may have, no matter how insignificant or irrelevant they may seem: bury them as best you can. If a noble engages you in conversation, particularly given your difference in station, assume they are an adversary until proven otherwise. Remain polite but beware: anything they say could be a trap designed to expose or exploit you. Regardless of the natural of your association with her highness, do everything in your power to conceal it. maintain a degree of formality at all times and above all…"
Halshaw's advice was lost as Link suddenly picked up a peculiar smell drifting to his nostrils, a smell which inexplicable raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He couldn't identify the odour, yet some instinctual memory told him something was wrong and he stared off down the dark empty hallway with increasing unease. The inky shadows now invoked ominous fingers stretching and waving in the flickering candle light, which seemed to be beating out a warning in the dance of their winking flames. Despite his discomfort his overriding compulsion was to investigate whatever it was.
"Link, are you even listening?! What are you staring at?" The Lord snapped irritably, bringing his attention back from the smell to his companion, who eyed him dubiously.
"Somethingssss… off. A strange smell." He replied cautiously
"What?! I don't smell anything!"
"I have a very good nose."
"Well then I pity your country bound peasant upbringing all the more…" Halshaw snarked before adding with genuine curiosity. "any idea what it is?"
"None. All I know is it doesn't sit well with my stomach. I'm going to investigate. I trust you can make it to the infirmary on your own?"
"Not a chance. I'm coming with you."
"But your head?!"
"I'll manage…" the Lord barked, swatting away Link's concern as a slight of his character, eyes gleaming with a sudden inexplicable spark of forthright determination. "Besides, I've done more than enough cowering and kowtowing for any man's self-respect. If it's dangerous you may need help and I need to regain the luxury of being able to look my reflection in the eye."
Knowing better than to argue with Halshaw, Link merely nodded and the duo set off down the corridor in silence, the only sounds coming from their footfalls, echoing in the vaulted ceiling and the occasional chatter from beyond a door. Having faced a barrage of near constant unknowns for over six months on his adventures, the hero carried himself with a quiet confidence, even admittedly feeling a spark of excitement mixing with his cautious apprehension. Halshaw kept pace with Link's confident stride, his countenance one of sceptical curiosity.
The source of the smell was clearly further than Link had thought as they reached a T junction without finding it and his nose told him it was still a way off. They took the left turn onto another long and dimly lit passageway just as uniform as the last and with no signs of anything untoward readily visible. There was, however, a new odour which joined the first. Was it… wet paint? It was accompanied by… snoring was it? It was hard to tell and seemed strangely laboured?
He decided not to share these revelations with Halshaw as he had a feeling the noble would probably simply dismiss it out of hand. Regardless, the curious smells and bizarre breathing increased with every step down the hallway and his puzzlement grew.
Halfway to the next fork in the path, Halshaw broke the wordless walk as he picked up the smells "Hang on. Is that wet paint?... and can you hear… snoring?" The Lord's words and steps began to falter. Link glanced back at him to see the man in blatantly frantic deliberation, his eyes darting manically as his hands vigorously clenched and released.
He was about to enquire when the light of epiphany flashed in the nobleman's eyes and two hushed words slipped from taut lips, barely audible even to Link's superior hearing, almost masked beneath a spiking heartrate. "Death bell" came the whisper.
Taking the confused hero by surprise, Halshaw broke into an ungainly yet determined run, ignoring a now blatantly painful leg injury as he yelled back at Link through gritted teeth. "You're right Link! Something's definitely wrong!"
Accelerating to catch up, while at the same time attempting to minimize the strain on his freshly healed ankle, the two pounded around the corner together into the next hallway, heavy bootsteps echoing off the walls, to the immediate sight of a guard lying face down in the middle of a rare patch of well-lit corridor. Link hurtled on ahead fully expecting Halshaw to be more cautious, yet to his shock, the Lord threw caution to the wind and charged with him towards the prone body. The Lord seemed wholly unsurprised by the body lying there and he could only guess it had something to do with the smell. "What's death bell?" He hissed between breaths, while his eyes frantically scanned the corridor for any imminent threats.
Halshaw didn't answer until he reached the guard who was unconscious but clearly still alive by the ragged snoring. Nevertheless, it was with great urgency that the nobleman heaved the body over and checked the guard's pulse, "Death bell's the soldier's name for a crude sedative used in field surgery." he explained quickly as he removed the guard's helmet and began to arrange the body into the safety position all soldiers were trained for any downed comrade. With no apparent peril in sight, Link turned his attention to assisting with the guard. Curiosity goaded him to read the red painted words, daubed across the wall next to the body; the apparent purpose of the crime, but they were only words, unimportant when measured against a life.
Halshaw continued to elaborate on Death bell as he checked the unconscious guard's breathing. "It earned its macabre moniker both from one of its ingredients and the fact that if you need it, the odds are already stacked against your survival. Be it from the wounds, complications of the surgery or simply not coming around afterwards, only one in ten survive… I was one of the lucky ones" Urgent yet controlled; commanding yet calm, the gruff, cynical, bitter politician had been replaced by the very quintessential model of a military officer: a miraculous metamorphosis which took Link by surprise, yet seemed to fit the man like a glove.
Realising there was nothing more he could do to help his unconscious comrade, a legate he only vaguely recognised, Link set about inspecting the crime scene for clues. His nose led him immediately to an abandoned paint pot, brush and a stinking rag, clearly smothered in the potent drug; the tools of the culprit. He glanced back at the guard with concern. He just hoped the man would make it. Who would do such a thing for simple graffiti?!
The question was answered as he began to read the blood red letters and all concern for his comrade was eclipsed by seething anger. The words leaked into the core of his being, as the wet red liquid trailed grotesquely down the stone surface.
In surrender, our kingdom you betrayed
in inaction, the gods' will disobeyed
hear justice cry for the lost and afraid
Unwise pretender, there's a price to be paid
The message was clearly about Zelda. A condemnation! A Threat!
They dared threaten Zelda?! They dared to blame her?! His teeth bared and his shaking hands balled in fists. He could feel it stirring in his stomach: the beast was waking, seemingly exacerbating his already heightened senses. The beat of his own heart was almost deafening, the texture of a single paint drop became as intricate as an artwork and… he could now pick up a scent trail of wet paint weaving away down the corridor. The scent of a traitor and he would hunt them down! They would learn the price of damning the princess!
"Link! Where are you going?! I just gave you an order!" Halshaw's harsh tone cut through the rage filled haze permeating his mind, but could not dispel it.
Link whirled round, fixing the Lord with a heated glare and biting back a bristling response, instead merely growling through gritted teeth "What?"
The Lord met his gaze unflinchingly from his position, still kneeling by the fallen guard, and while curt, he maintained his commanding yet composed demeanour, the only acknowledgement of the hero's sudden erratic behaviour being a twitch of his moustache. "Link, the alarm must be raised. Also, while the legate is stable for the moment, his safety can only be guaranteed by getting him to the infirmary as soon as possible. You must find a guard to spread to word and then assist me in carrying your fellow soldier to the infir…"
"If we do, the culprit will get away!"
"They've likely already gotten away. The best we can…"
"Not yet they haven't. I can smell them. I can track them!" Link snarled ominously.
Halshaw stared up at the fierce hero, examining closely the vehemence of his determination… and anger. "You trust your senses that much?"
Link nodded.
There was another pause, exacerbating the fiery hero's growing impatience, while the Lord contemplated. After a moment which felt like a century Halshaw huffed "Well unless you find someone else to aid me, my only other option is to call for assistance, which will surely tip off the perpetrator if he's anywhere nearby."
"Fine…" Link growled, straining his ears for the nearest room where he could hear activity "But you better hold on the alarm. That will definitely tip him off!"
At this, Halshaw pulled out his ornate gold pocket watch, consulting it briefly. "You've got fifteen minutes tops." he stated plainly.
"What! Why?"
"Because this is the main thoroughfare between the royal kitchens and the dining hall and, if all is proceeding to its normal clockwork precision, this hallway will be swarming with servants in roughly twenty minutes. I want this area cordoned off before that happens." Halshaw's firm tone and hardened stare made it clear this wasn't negotiable and every second stood round debating was a second of the hunt lost.
Link snorted with frustration and dashed off to what turned out to be the laundry room, barked orders at a couple of wide-eyed laundry maids, before rushing back to Halshaw, not even bothering to wait for a reply from the terrified duo.
"Right, your assistants are on their way. How long have I got?"
"Twelve minutes."
"Alright, time to hunt." He growled, staring into the shadow clad corridor which marked the start of the scent trail. A hate unlike anything he'd ever experienced seethed within him, the influence of the beast: clawing at his rational mind, intoxicating in its potent lust for vengeance. It hadn't fully taken hold, rational mind still clinging to some semblance of control but he was afraid… afraid of just what would happen when he caught the perpetrator. It was this fear and the shame of this sudden display of uncaring, feral volatility which kept him lucid.
He hesitated briefly on the threshold, questioning his callous course of action. He was leaving a fellow soldier who, while currently stable, desperately required medical help, all for a potentially futile hunt for a criminal who may have already escaped. Was it really worth risking a life to catch a criminal?... But… they were a threat to the kingdom! They were a threat to ZELDA!
Resolve reaffirmed, he strode forward only to be halted by Halshaw "You got a weapon?"
"I can handle myself without…"
"All the same, take this"
Link turned to see the Lord holding out a small, extravagantly sculptured, silver cylinder encrusted with jewels. He recognised it as a tube of ignis powder: a quick and easy way of reinvigorating dying flames. Hardly a practical weapon?! "What do you expect me to do with that? Dust some on the bastard and hold him to a candle?!"
Halshaw's brow furrowed but he did not reply, at least not verbally. Instead he pressed his thumb to a large diamond on the side and a small blade flicked out. Demonstration complete, he pressed the back of the blade and retracted it back into the body of the silver tube, before wordlessly offering it to Link once more.
Ok, now it made sense! He felt awkward taking the weapon from the very man he'd once assumed would be his greatest enemy at the court, yet it occurred to him as he took the intricate implement that perhaps, just maybe, the man he now faced was not the same despicable creature he met in Ordon. "Err, thanks" He grunted.
"Do not forget your duty as a guard. You are to arrest the culprit. Lethal force is a last resort."
Link internally bristled at the warning but he restrained his distaste as he simply muttered "I know my duty." Without waiting for a reply, Link turned and slipped out of the island of light and into the sea of shadows, the twinkling embers of dying candles winking like cat's eyes in the night.
There were smaller sporadic islands of illumination dispersed down the hallway, yet the beast urged him to shun them, the beast's natural home seemingly being shadow itself. As much as he was fighting to suppress its influence he relented to the compulsion, embracing the darkness as an ally is his hunt, a cloak which could aid him in sneaking up on his prey.
He soon reached a crossroads where the scent trail diverged down the left passage. His eyes, however were briefly drawn to the right where at the end of another long corridor blades of light sliced through ever possible crack in a set of ornate doors: the entrance to the next wing. He squinted at the harsh contrast and the beast within snorted disapproval. Nevertheless, it brought another query to his rational mind. Why was this area of the castle so poorly lit when other wings clearly hadn't suffered the neglect of the candle lighters?
There was no chance to ponder as the beast hounded him to continue the hunt, the very real ticking clock by the door persuading him to heeds its warnings. No distractions could be afforded. It would just have to be logged away for later.
He stalked down the left passage, took the next right and then quickly came upon an unexpected problem. The scent trail led to a T junction but then, bizarrely, seemed to disperse in both directions. Momentarily baffled, he began sniffing incessantly, like a blood hound, circling the intersection and comparing the smell at every point in its radius, channelling all his concentration into deciphering the findings of his nose.
The trail to the left was clear and led straight down the corridor, whereas to the right the scent, fainter and less distinct, appeared to be coming… from the wall itself?! Damn it, he didn't have time for this! He pressed his nose directly to the stone blocks and inhaled. It was definitely coming from the wall but how could that…
"Er, Link… um, what are you doing?"
Link whirled round to see a guard, whose name had slipped his mind, approaching cautiously, eying him with a mixture of bemusement and worry.
he met this bemusement with a growl of frustration. "Hunting!" He barked, unnerving the poor soldier, who backed away. Fortunately for the shaken guard, reason reigned the beast in by pointing out that he may be more useful than nuisance. "Have you seen anyone come through here recently?" He snapped.
"Um, no, same as it always is round here Link. You know how it is. The occasional maid or serv…"
"When?"
"Pardon?"
"When did you see the last person?!"
"Oh, er, must have been an hour at least."
Great! Well that got him absolutely nowhere. He gritted his teeth. "Fine, carry on with your duties and don't get in my way."
The guard flinched as though he'd just been whipped, before giving a hasty bow and promptly hurrying away down the corridor.
It was as Link's beastly blue orbs observed the man's rushed retreat that his brain stumbled on an epiphany. "In my way?" he repeated in his head. In… My… Way?
Of course! The guard was the answer to the half the conundrum and the other half could only be...?
He followed the trail left to prove a hunch. Sure enough, the trail soon took a sharp right, out onto a covered balcony overlooking the castle graveyard and, running along the outside wall of the corridor he'd just emerged from, a thin ledge connecting to another balcony further down. Well, whoever his prey was they certainly had good balance if they resorted to such lengths to avoid the guards. It will have, nevertheless, slowed them down which begged the question: why were they fixated on this particular route? What was their exit strategy?
There was only one way to find out and he was wasting precious seconds. "This was a time for action, not thinking!" He admonished himself as he run back up the corridor to the other balcony and, as predicted, intersected once again with the smell of wet paint, growing noticeably stronger as he continued to follow it.
The trail seemed to, paradoxically, be snaking back into the belly of the castle, away from any obvious escape. The beast in his belly growled impatiently. He was definitely gaining ground on his target but the threat of alarm bells peeling and blowing his chance to catch his prey loomed ever larger with every passing moment, with no way of knowing how long he had.
As he rounded the next corner another subtler scent mingled in the trail: sweat, and drifting with it on the air, the sound of footsteps, strangely muffled yet just about identifiable in the relative quiet of the otherwise empty passageways. With the gap closing fast, his pulse began to race and, as expressed by a steadily expanding feral grin, he was gripped with a palpable sense of anticipation. Thoughtlessly, a hand retrieved Halshaw's latest gift from his pocket and twirled it in his fingers as he prowled through the shadows. Oh, he hoped his prey would give him an excuse to… Wait, what was he thinking?!
He stuffed the silver weapon back in his pocket, shuddering at the casual viciousness of his thoughts. The culprit would be arrested and face trial for his crimes. "That was punishment enough!" He told himself.
Then, turning right from a T junction, he caught his first glimpse of who he presumed was his target, nothing more than a non-descript silhouette, slipping out of sight as the corridor arced. He licked his lips and quickened his pace, the back of the target, seemingly clad all in black and small enough to be man or woman, reappearing as the path straightened. Still the mysterious figure's footsteps sounded distorted… almost otherworldly?
Despite his pace, Link had managed to keep his footsteps light, while his quarry showed no consideration for their gait, and yet hunter and hunted's footfalls were equally hushed. Like the hunter, the hunted also shunned the light, skirting the auras of the few youthful and vigorous candles, sticking to the oily shadows. As the gap between them shrank with each passing step and the beast revelled in the thrill of the hunt, Link's rational mind couldn't help a growing feeling of apprehension.
He was now less than twenty metres from the figure, fulling expecting them to sense his presence and make a run for it, but they continued on, seemingly deaf to the world!
Just a few more steps and he'd be in striking distance…
Lulled by the quietness of their footsteps, Link was suddenly startled as the culprit's footsteps abruptly jumped from muffled and eerie to loud and echoing. He faltered a moment and the instant the figure stepped away the steps muffled once more. What in the world was that?
The black clad figure stopped at a crossroads, bathed in a rare patch of light. The beast within saw a chance to pounce but Link still had control, halting in the shadows… Something wasn't right.
The figure glanced left to right and Link caught a glimpse of a white mask over the figure's face. The beast was straining at the leash. Link could feel it writhing in his stomach yet he held steadfast in the darkness. This didn't make sense? Surely they knew their… TRAP!
Link ducked and dodged sideways as the crook suddenly lobbed a small grey ball at where the hero had just been standing. He had just enough time to recover from his roll to see the crook cover his ears as he broke into a run. The rupee dropped almost immediately and he reached to cover his own, slamming his eyes shut instinctively. His hands, however, weren't quick enough!
BANG!
The flash, like a bolt of lightning, was bright enough to penetrate his closed lids, albeit dimmed, and the accompanying thunderous crack stabbed his eardrums painfully, rendering his hearing little more than a constant high-pitched ringing.
He staggered backwards, the assault on his ears leaving him momentarily dizzy and disorientated. His eyes, however, recovered quickly and locked onto his prey, fleeing at breakneck speed down the dark passageway. With the very real threat of him losing his quarry he threw caution to the winds, disregarding his dizziness as he hurtled pell-mell after them.
He could feel their pounding feet on the floor even as incessant ringing drowned out the sound. He could feel his ankle flaming up again under the abuse but this only served to fuel the burning rage rapidly growing in his belly. Another sound, more felt than heard, soon joined in, the faint and indistinct clanging of the alarm bell.
The masked adversary hastily slipped through a door. Dispensing with regard for castle property, Link - or the beast - didn't grant the door the same courtesy of slowing to actually open it. Like a raging bull he smashed straight through, buckling the oak panels and breaking the lock mechanism clean from its housing as the door flew open. On bursting through, his eyes were assaulted by the shock of genuine illumination and his frenetic feet momentarily faltered as his eyes adjusted. Once recovered, his recklessness was rewarded with a glimpse of his prey swerving at the next Junction, skidding on the red carpet marking the intersection. Not only did the slip slow them down but the red carpet gave him a good idea where in the labyrinth of the castles they were. The hero turned hunter accelerated once more, regaining some much-needed ground on his prey.
As he reached the corner, there was a flash and, careening into the new corridor, he saw a guard and a young maid both clutching their ears as they crumpled to the floor, the maid's mouth open in a silent scream. Beyond them, racing away towards another door, was his prey.
Link was torn but the beast was fixated. His sight, locked unshakably on the rapidly retreating form of his quarry, was beginning to develop a red tinge. He didn't spare so much as a glance at the two agonised innocents strewn across his path, carelessly hurdling his fallen comrade in pursuit of their tormentor. It didn't matter. He was gaining and he could repay their suffering on the bastard who hurt them! An eye for an eye!
His prey burst through another door and, despite losing sight of them, Link bared his teeth in a feral grin. He knew where they were and what was approaching: A stairwell, which left his quarry only two options; take the stairs down, allowing him the opportunity to cut them off with a jump from the landing – he doubted they'd have the confidence to jump the staircase themselves - or take a left turn on the landing onto a corridor… which was a dead end.
On barging through, he caught his prey's foot disappearing around the corner towards the dead end. Perfect! The bastard had nowhere to go. Link charged.
As he whipped around the corner, two hands grasped his tunic and, using his own momentum against him, flung him against the wooden balustrade, so hard it cracked. Surprise from the ambush was quickly overtaken by shock as his eyes took in the full form of his assailant for the first time. What the… was that a sage mask?!
A boot struck his chest and the weakened balustrade snapped. Tumbling off the landing into the stairwell, Link desperately grabbed one of the tapestries which lined the walls. The fabric briefly assisted in slowing his descent, straining alarmingly before the threads shredded and he fell. The tapestry prepared him for the landing but it still wasn't pleasant, saving his back at the expense of further abuse to his ankle.
With the stabbing pain of his battered limb, the red mist permeating his vision seemed to intensify, consuming all other colours. His murderous glare shot upwards to his prey, retreating back the way they'd come. They'd played him! They clearly came this way just to lure him into that ambush… an ambush which could have been averted if he hadn't frozen at the sight of that mask. Pathetic!
In the full, vice-like, grip of fierce, untameable fury, he scrambled up the steps on all fours, raking his vocal cords with rabid snarls he couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears. The beast, until now merely a fervent influence in his head, had now claimed full control of his body. The logical and reasoned consciousness that was Link as he understood as "Himself" was chained and muzzled in his own head, watching the world race past through a screen of red stained glass, relentlessly fighting yet seemingly helpless to the whims of this force of nature which held dominion over his body. Pains numbed and senses misted up or merged together into indecipherable cacophonies.
The beast burst back through the doors to the sight of a trio of servant girls trying to assist the two victims he'd ignored just moments prior. On catching sight of the hero; at least the shell of him, baring his teeth and growling like a wild animal, they frozen, either from shock or terror. Link had never witnessed such a reaction to his presence. The fear on their faces was palpable, stinging his conscience that he was responsible for such distress.
The beast, however, showed no empathy for the frightened girls, staring them down as it sniffed the air. A few seconds later and it was on the move once more, clearly following a scent trail, given its frantic yet purposeful movements.
Was this beast some base, twisted part of his own psyche let loose on the world or a separate entity? It did not have a voice or words. It did not speak. It was simply a barrage of extreme emotions: volatile, unrelenting and utterly unforgiving. He continued to valiantly wrestle against his mental bindings but his efforts appeared fruitless, offering no measurable signs of accomplishment or hope for his struggles. He was trapped in a surreal crimson nightmare, one he was starting to fear he'd never escape.
The beast had re-entered the darkened corridors he'd prowled earlier. The red stain turned from the bright crimson of fresh blood to the putrid dark scum of old blood, obscuring his vision still further. It was still on the trail, though Link was sure they were actually retracing their steps. Was it confused? Had their quarry retraced his or her steps or was the beast chasing its own tail.
As predicted, they arrived back at what he suspected was the very crossroads where their chase had begun. The beast sniffed around before setting off, with dogged determination, in the opposite direction to their chase. If his muddied senses were to be trusted, the beast was still following A scent trail but what? Link's unrelenting struggle to regain control continued in vain, as the hunt persisted, prowling through the labyrinthine passages with increasing frustration. They appeared to be going in circles, though from his internal prison he couldn't be certain. His perceptions of orientation and time were warped within the confines of his crimson cell. They could have been at this for minutes or hours, though by the beasts frenzied pace he assumed it was a matter of minutes. It would not matter if he could not find a way out.
The beast suddenly veered, beelining for a narrow door which opened to reveal an equally confined passageway, so meagrely lit that in his crimson prison Link could barely make out anything. A couple of solitary scarlet pinpricks winking in a sea of nothingness. The vague sensation of something cold, rough and solid pressing in on both sides gave away the truly constricted reality of this unknown tunnel, filling his already unnerved mind with an additional layer of dread. There was, however, a scent trail, as indistinct as it was to his numbed senses it was undeniably there.
Venturing into the unknown did little to discourage the beast, squeezing through the confined darkness with the same single-minded obsession it had shown from the start. It could clearly see more than the incarcerated hero as it began to descend a tight spiral staircase in what, to Link, appeared pitch darkness.
Down and down they went, the walls seemingly closing in still further as they descended beyond the realms Link would have thought possible. Was this just some nightmare? Was this his journey into insanity? Oblivion in the deepest recesses of his own head? He fought to rise up but to no avail.
Hang on? Was he regaining his senses? The smell was growing more intense as they descended further. It was horribly distorted; grotesque and were he still in control of his body he would likely be suppressing wretches if it increased. The beast's determination was rapidly morphing to renewed anger and frustration.
By the time they found the end of the staircase, the stench was intolerable even from within Link's prison. The beast scrambled around now in complete all consuming blackness. The passage ahead was too small even for the hero's diminutive frame to stand in and even more constricted than the staircase. The cold stone walls were damp and the air was filled with a noxious miasma completely masking whatever scent trail they'd been following.
Sensation was returning. A writhing in his stomach! A pounding in his skull! He still had no control. Then came a rip tide of wild ferocious rage and, carried behind on its currents, jagged shards of soul crushing despair and fear, pulling, tearing and buffeting him from all directions. The beast began to howl, shredding his vocal cords, while the sound, echoing harshly off the constricting stone tunnel, stabbing his still ringing ears and he collapsed.
The beast began thrashing violently: clawing, scratching and pounding against the walls with bare hands. Link could feel the skin of his calloused fingers tearing and his knuckles splitting as they were flayed and beaten against the rough stonework. The black hole of reality began to slip away as the ringing in his ears slowly morphed into incessant echoing screams, desperate harrowing screams ripped from his worst nightmares, the final doomed cries of the Princess he could never save.
Blood in his veins froze and over the empty black canvas the dreaded scene began to materialise as misty silhouettes, the giant form of Ganondorf raising his great and terrible blade over the crawling form of Zelda. "Behold your failure." reverberated in his skull, distorted and demented. The blade dropped only for the whole thing to start over, just as blurry and indistinct, yet horrifying.
The toxic stench pervading the air stung his throat as he gasped and panted, suddenly short of breath, his pulse frantic as he felt his hands continue to beat themselves blood against the constricting stone walls. Panic was wearing down the walls of his internal prison yet he could not regain control of his frenzied limbs. He persevered with his struggle to regain control, though in the pandemonium it became unclear whether he was fighting the beast or his own fears.
Then, seemingly to taunt him further, another scream, emerged through the cacophony, equally as recognisable. Yet this one never featured in his nightmares because within those she was already dead. The scream of his lost companion was not a scream of terror but one of immense pain and struggle. It grew, steadily consuming the misty nightmarish echoes as it came into focus, building to an ear-splitting crescendo. What was happening?
Link, or the beast - it was hard to distinguish - slammed his eyes shut and everything else; the nightmare visions, his frantic fists and the horrific screams suddenly faded as a voice, exhausted yet soothing, called out to him "Let it go, Link, let it go… he's gone, he's gone."
His eyes flew open to meet a glowing gold one gazing back at him mere inches from his face. The rest of her childlike form quickly came into focus illuminated by an impossible light in the lightless tunnel, her visage wracked with weariness, worry and… shame?
"Midna?" He croaked, his voice raw, only to beginning choking on the noxious miasma of the tunnel, as all his senses abruptly returned.
The apparition shook her head and drifted away. "You need to go. You wont find them now."
"Midna?!" He coughed, trying to pursue her on hands and knees, his bleeding hands stinging and his ankle pounding, as he crawled through the damp, nauseous darkness.
Again, the phantom shook her head. "No! I'm not her… Please go." she implored
"What are you?" he choked, shambling ever further down the tunnel after her, moisture, sweat and blood slicking the stone floor beneath his fingers.
The mirage dissolved into the dark, leaving him with two parting words
"I'm sorry."
A.N: Well, this is it… the end of Act 1! It's been a long time coming but it's now here and it marks a seismic shift in the narrative and, indeed, the tone. I am wondering whether to separate each Act into its own story on here but I'm not sure. If you have a particular opinion on this feel free to let me in a review or a message. Oh and for those who love the fluff, rest assured that while there will be a definite shift in the second act to more serious drama and mystery, the romance and the comedy will still be there, just a little more subdued.