Chapter 50: Into the Light
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When the fifth day of Impa's training began, Link struggled to drag himself out of bed. Without a fireplace his room was cold and drafty, but his blankets were warm, and his heart felt heavy at the mere thought of removing any of his layers in order to get dressed for the day. And besides the temperature, there was his fate during the rest of the day to consider.
If I have to spend one more hour in that dark, gloomy pit, I think I'll go insane, he thought grumpily, peeking blearily out from beneath his blankets at his room, bathed in the gray, icy light of dawn. I'm getting sick of living without the sun. Or… or without someone who at least reminds me of the sun…
His thoughts drifted to Zelda and he closed his eyes again, relaxing in the cozy stupor of only just waking up, envisioning her face, smiling, happy, illuminated by the golden sunlight of late afternoon… He realized with a jolt, a slow grin spreading over his face, that the image was a memory of the afternoon they had spent by the tree near the Royal Ancient Lab. When she got me to taste a frog… It smelled kind of like the cell in the lockup.
I think it smelled better, actually.
With the smile fading from his face, he sighed heavily and reluctantly threw back the blankets, instantly shivering as their warmth fled from his body. Goddesses above – this month can't pass quickly enough.
As Link hurried down through the castle the following morning, passing Zelda's room - blocked by guards, as usual - on the way down to the lockup, he was struck by the realization that he wouldn't see her until the end of the month.
With me working with Impa from dawn until late at night, for the next nine days - she's asleep by the time I get back to my room each night, and she's asleep now, he thought, taking the stairs two at a time.
His heart felt leaden, and he frowned heavily, feeling already the familiar ache of loneliness encroaching on his soul, like an old and unwanted friend. A month spent in that awful dark chamber, with nothing but Hinox bones and Impa for company. Four weeks!
Impa seemed to notice his gloomy demeanor when he walked into the massive cell; she raised an eyebrow and turned a critical eye on the mold and the torches. "I'll keep pressing the King for a better place to train," she promised with a disgusted curl of her lip. "The amount of space and privacy is, I suppose, a benefit. But it's rather depressing down here." And that was all she said on the matter.
The day began, as the past several had, with a long stretch of time spent in quite meditation. Gloomy though the chamber certainly was, Link was beginning to enjoy those quiet morning moments when he let his mind and soul find rest, when he forced the weight of the world from his shoulders and simply focused on living.
He'd successfully cast the spell for the first time on his third day of training. Impa handed him the bag of deku powder, which he used to successfully cast the spell of concealment once more over and over again, until his temples began to pound – a sign, as he had learned the day before, that he had been using more magic than his soul was capable of and needed to do something else for a while. That "something else" had thus far consistently meant practicing with the Master Sword.
"We'll be sparring together today," Impa announced as he gently rubbed his head. "Don't get your hopes up too high – I've been watching your techniques for the past four days and you've never seen me fight. First - I'll let you get a taste for how I fight. I won't show you what to do, or teach you what I'm doing - I'll throw myself at you and you'll have to rely on your own skill and wits to fight back. We'll see how well you adapt to fighting a Sheikah; I'd wager it's a far cry from Hylian swordsmanship or monsters."
She was right, as Link quickly realized. Impa moved like a cobra, striking with deadly speed, each motion smooth and calculated and perfectly controlled. She gave nothing away, no subtle hint about where she might strike next; she kept her eyes fixedly locked on Link's face and her features impossibly still. Fighting her was different - and, in a way, more difficult - from fighting any other opponent Link could remember.
Her first blows came as a complete shock, originating seemingly out of nowhere; Link failed to block the first altogether, earning a smarting bruise on his left arm from her wooden practice sword. At the next attack he swiped wildly out at her blade, struggling to react quickly enough to block; he missed and she landed a blow on his ribs. Relentlessly she attacked again, and Link kept his sword raised vertically in front of his chest, moving it only slightly from side to side in order to deflect - albeit clumsily - her next moves.
She's fast, and doesn't telegraph her attacks at all. So I have to be faster.
It was all he could do during the first several minutes to defend himself. Impa was much stronger than her slim form implied, dealing blows capable of tearing devastating wounds had she been using her traditional Sheikah longsword. As it was, Link found himself amassing a collection of bruises across his body - a collection that grew every time he wasn't quick enough.
"You… you really are getting better," Impa told him hesitantly, with a trace of guilt lacing her voice after the side of her sword collided brutally with his stomach. "I thought you'd block that one."
Link, leaning against the wall on trembling legs, could only stare at her through half-lidded eyes, his chest heaving and empty. "Guess not," he wheezed, struggling to suck air back into his lungs.
But she was right; for every blow he took, he noticed that there were ten more that he blocked - a number that only increased as the morning progressed. Link gained confidence, angling his blade to more effectively block Impa's blows and create openings for a counterstrike. Yet he hesitated to launch his own attacks, certain that Impa would knock him back in a heartbeat.
"In a real battle you'd be dead by now," Impa huffed in exasperation, raining a vicious blow down over his head, as he remained on the defensive. "You do realize that, don't you? Either that or your comrades would be swiftly falling to my kin! Fight back! Save yourself, and save them!"
Blinking sweat from his eyes, teeth clenched in determination, Link dodged her next swipe and lunged at her sword only to find his sword piercing empty air as she slid out of the way and struck his shoulder blade instead. A small smile graced her stern features when he turned around, a faint sign of approval.
"Much better," she nodded. "Again. We'll keep at it until you succeed."
Link took a step back. "I - I don't want to actually hit you," he protested, feeling all at once uncomfortable.
Impa rolled her eyes. "I'm a warrior, boy. I can handle a few bruises. With training blades like this it's impossible for you to actually hurt me."
Link swallowed nervously, feeling his insides squirming nonetheless. "I… I still don't -"
The swish of her sword interrupted him and he wrenched his own blade up with a startled gasp, just barely in time to keep himself from obtaining another bruise.
Despite Impa's promise that he couldn't hurt her, he couldn't bring himself to devote the full force of his mind and body in his attacks. It wasn't the fact that she was a woman that deterred him; she reminded him greatly of the General - an adult figure replacing Janin as his mentor, an adult figure that he could tell actually cared about him, and that he cared about in return. A friend, dare he think it. And even knowing full well that they were only training, he couldn't bring himself to actually attack a friend. He aimed always for her blade, determined to win the battle by disarming her if nothing else. She caught on quickly, casting him a bemused scarlet glare and adjusting her technique, holding her weapon in both hands and attacking with just as much subtlety and grace as before.
"Come on, Link," she encouraged him, eyes narrowed as she aimed a thrust at his throat. Link snapped his blade up to parry the blow and stepped to the side, following up with a parabolic swing at her sword, which she blocked effortlessly.
"W-what exactly counts as success here?" he asked breathlessly, his brief distraction earning him a smarting bruise on the shoulder.
"Either you disarm me as you're planning," Impa grunted, lunging, "or you land a solid blow on me. One of those is a much more attainable goal than the other, I assure you."
Their battle continued, although they had reached an impasse. Link refused to actually strike out at Impa herself but failed constantly to make any progress in disarming her, although his ability to block her attacks continued to improve. Nonetheless, as the minutes wore on, he felt himself losing energy and noticed his arms and legs begin to shake. Although the past days of training had greatly improved his strength and stamina he still had much to regain before he reached the state of fitness he had maintained before the year ended, and the long minutes - hours, even, or so it felt like - of sparring with Impa were beginning to take their toll, despite their brief breaks for drinks of water.
Link lost his focus entirely when he heard the familiar slosh of footsteps splashing down the gloomy corridor beyond the great chamber, relief saturating every fiber of his being. Must be noon, then! We can stop for -
Impa's blade caught him in the chest and he doubled over, completely winded for the second time that day. "I know what you're thinking, boy, and no, this does not mean we're taking a break! We'll keep at this until you get over this Din-cursed chivalry holding you back! You'll fight female Yiga warriors, after all; this should be no different! You can eat after -"
"Pardon, Lady Impa," a breathless voice choked out. Link glanced towards the doorway and, much to his surprise - and no little disappointment - found no servant bearing a platter of food as usual. Instead, Thrangus stood over the threshold beneath the portcullis, sweat drenching his hair as he gasped for breath. "Sir Link - you're needed in the library. King Rhoam's study. Urgent - very urgent."
The disappointment instantly melted into numb horror that seemed to swallow up his insides, leaving cold, fearful emptiness in its wake. "Wh-what?" he gasped. "Why?"
Thrangus shook his head, wiping the back of his hand across his brow. "I dunno - they wouldn't say. He just - they need you right away. General Hawkwood sent me to come fetch you." He shivered, looking around the massive chamber as if noticing it for the first time, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. "Wh-what is this place?"
"Only the King's finest training facility," Impa muttered sarcastically. "Very well, Link - it looks like you're free to leave now. But I expect you back here as soon as you've finished whatever business waits for you in the library!"
Link nodded fervently. "Y-yes, Impa. Of course." He barely registered the sound of his own voice, his mind growing cluttered with panicked thoughts and imagined scenarios. Is Rhoam changing his mind? Will I have to leave? Or he's refusing to let me stay as Zelda's guard? Din curse it - will I ever get to see her again?
In a moment of hard resolve, he answered that question in the positive. I'll use the concealment spell and sneak past every guard in the castle if that's what it takes.
"The King looked sad," Thrangus reflected as he jogged beside Link splashing through the corridor lined with cells, towards the water pump room. "Kind of horrified, too. Like something came as a big shock."
"And… the General?" Link asked anxiously.
"He… looked… mad," Thrangus puffed, struggling to keep up. "It was… sort of… scary. I've never seen him angry before."
Link's heart lurched. "Me neither," he muttered, a cold chill snaking down his spine. They reached the water pump room; its thick, moist air stuffed itself through his nose and mouth like a gag, making it difficult to breathe. Nonetheless he started up the rickety stairs, taking them two at a time, forgetting his previous exhaustion. "Was… was there anyone else you saw?" Like… like Janin? Certainly he has something to do with this!
Thrangus shrugged. "The door was only open for a bit," he explained. "I think I saw a guy who looked like he hadn't had a bath in a while, but that was it. Wonder if he's very poor. Or maybe he was just in prison for a bit? Sir Groose says there's no baths in prison." He made a face. "Course, that didn't do much to convince some of us squires not to want to go to prison. We don't like baths much anyway."
Link laughed nervously, a strangled sound that came out more like a wheezing gasp than anything else as they reached the top of the stairs. No Janin, then. But that doesn't mean anything - whatever made the General this upset can't be good.
"Of course," Thrangus continued, "doesn't mean no one else'll be there. The General sent another squire to fetch someone else - I didn't wait to find out who 'cause he looked so angry, so I figured I'd better hurry."
Link winced. So there's still a chance Janin'll be there. Din curse it.
The quickest path up to the library wound up a spiral staircase into the crisp outdoors, patches of soggy, muddied snow and melting ice rendering the paths treacherous. Link slowed his pace, carefully navigating his way around the slippery spots, glancing back to ensure Thrangus did the same. The path itself, at this part of the castle, lay in between a segment of the battlements on one side and the towering mountainside upon which the castle perched on the other. Link felt a drop of water strike his head, hard, a splash of deep cold from a melting icicle far above. He shivered, his hands twitching at the urge to wrap his arms around himself; he hadn't thought it would be necessary to wear warmer layers when he got dressed that morning. Although the great chamber in the lockup was cold, it wasn't nearly as bone-chilling as the frosty winter world outside, and he usually found himself warming up quickly over the course of the day's training once it came to swordplay.
The entrance to the library was embedded in a short cliff protruding above the path, its heavy oaken door framed by two thick stone pillars and a pair of guards. They nodded at Link as he passed, and Link paused for a moment, confused by the gesture. Generally the guards on duty that he encountered throughout the castle pretended either that they were statues or that no one else existed. Slowly, he nodded back, pushing the door open and heading down the passageway beyond. After several sets of stairs it emerged on the library's second floor balcony, and Link couldn't help but take advantage of the aerial view it provided, scanning the shelves of the upper floors and the tables situated throughout the ground floor, searching for a familiar golden-haired head. She spends lots of time in the library… His heart sank. But it looks like she's not here now.
Three tall bookcases had been built into the wall beneath the balcony. The lower half of the leftmost bookcase, however, consisted of a heavy-looking black door with opaque windows. Two Royal Guards stood on each side of the door; as Link descended to the ground floor he recognized Garmish and Hanvorien and suppressed a shudder.
"Well… I don't think I'm allowed in," Thrangus said softly. "So… good luck, Sir Link."
He swallowed with difficulty, finding his mouth suddenly drained of saliva. "Thanks," he whispered, taking in a deep breath to steel his nerves before taking one slow, shaking step towards the door. And then another, and one more after that. He heard the scurry of Thrangus' small, light feet as he hurried away, back to attend to his other duties as a squire.
Link stepped again towards the looming door, ominous in its size and in the intricate carvings on its black surface, but it swung open before he could reach it, revealing General Hawkwood standing beside it. As Thrangus had warned, his scarred face was nearly grotesquely twisted into a furious scowl, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, and lips firmly turned down. But his expression softened, and something glistened in his dark eyes as he noticed Link standing in front of him.
"Goddesses bless you, lad," he whispered, stepping aside and holding the door open with one arm.
Link didn't know if he felt better or worse at the Hawkwood's sudden change in demeanor. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask what was going on or why the General was upset, but shock stilled his tongue and he settled on just walking slowly, on shaking legs, into the King's study.
Rhoam sat at his desk before a pile of notes - recent, by the look of them, with fresh ink still glistening in the light from the silver candelabra resting beside them. No longer was he the overbearing thunderhead of a man that Link had been interrogated by weeks ago. He was haggard, worn, a frail elder lost beneath burdens perhaps too heavy for him to bear. In one hand he held one of the pages of notes he had just constructed, and he stared at it absently with eyes that did not see anything before them.
Link's stomach felt tight with nausea. Evidently they've made some huge, awful discovery. And somehow I'm involved.
There were two other men in the room. One was a prison guard, standing unobtrusively in a corner, his face obscured by his visor. In front of him, standing stiffly closer to the middle of the room, Link was surprised to see one of the prisoners he had met during his brief stay in the Castle Town Prison - the thin, reedy-looking man that had commented on Link's surprise at seeing normal-looking people in jail. He shifted from one foot to the other and awkwardly crossed his arms in front of his chest, clearly uncomfortable; at Link's entrance he glanced towards the door but quickly looked away before he could make eye contact.
The General cleared his throat. "He's… he's here, my King."
Rhoam gave a slight start, as if woken from a trance. "Ah, yes… Good, good…" He let the piece of paper he was holding fall back to the pile on his desk and raised his hand to rub wearily at his temples. "Sit down, Sir Link. You're… you're no doubt wondering why we've summoned you here."
Link gulped, slowly crossing the room to the small chair indicated by the General and sitting gingerly on the edge. "Y-yes, sir."
The King sighed heavily, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. "This man, Strinch, came to me… well, not exactly, I suppose. One of the prison guards came to me passing along a message from Strinch - that he wished to be released in order to meet with me privately as soon as possible to discuss… disturbing information he had recently come to possess, despite the time remaining on his sentence. I refused, at first, but he persisted, trying my patience and the patience of his guards but insisting that the information he held was of vital importance and could not be carried along by a messenger. We eventually reached an accord - he would get his chance to speak with me and then return to the prison to serve the rest of his sentence. However, I… I need to confirm his story." His voice softened, an unmistakable note of sorrow and hurt in his words. He cleared his throat and straightened, folding his hands together in his lap. "So, Sir Link, tell me what you know of how you came to be left in Janin's care. Everything you know."
Link gave a start, stunned. "You want me to - wh-what?"
"We'll explain everything, Link," the General assured him, closing the door. "Please - it's vital now that you tell us what happened."
Link turned his gaze to the prisoner, who was now studying him with no little amount of fear in his eyes, and felt a grim understanding filling in the holes in his mind. He and the other prisoners must have heard what Janin told me and decided to tell the King. No one else knows, since Janin must have dismissed the prison guards beforehand. And now the King wants to hear if I'll share the same story - if I'll validate what he had to say.
He nodded slowly to himself, lowering his gaze to his hands, which had tightly gripped his knees in anxiety. He allowed his grip to relax and drew in a deep breath through his lungs, preparing himself to relive the painful truths Janin revealed to him. Goddesses willing, I'll stay strong. "The night I was imprisoned, Janin visited me and… and we spoke. He told me about his plan to… to create a perfect warrior by beginning their training at an early age - as early as possible. And… he explained that I had failed his plan."
His mouth was dry, and he swallowed, nervously licking his lips. "He mentioned my parents, so I… asked him about them. He told me that he'd searched through all of the orphanages in the kingdom but couldn't find what he was looking for; then when he returned to Castle Town he found… me. He… he watched me rescue a baby from a swarm of Cuccos and decided that… that I was the one he needed for his plans.
"He followed me to find my parents. They were… scholars. Of the Zonai. But they were struggling financially, so Janin… Janin offered to fund them if they'd explore Thyphlo Ruins." Link shivered, his hands constricting into fists once more, and a cold note of anger that surprised him entered his voice. "He knew it would kill them. He knew it was infested with monsters and they wouldn't survive - he counted on it. When… when it was over he found me, alive, holding a lizalfos boomerang. H-he had a torch - he had me stare at them. At their… at what was left. I - I don't know for how long. He wanted me to… grow accustomed to violence." He swallowed again, his mouth bone dry and his throat aching.
"He'd planned it all," he continued quietly. "Instead of christening me after my parents' homeland, Fural, he called me 'Link of Thyphlo.' He said that - that I needed a mighty origin. A… a frightening one. It was all part of his plan to create what he saw as an ideal warrior."
He fell silent, but it was several moments before Rhoam, carefully scanning his notes, looked up at him. "That's it, then?" he asked faintly. "That's what happened to your parents?"
Link nodded, massaging his throat and trying to hold back the burning in his eyes. "Yes, sir."
"That lying son of a -" Hawkwood cut himself off with a grimace, disgust twisting his features. He turned to Link, his eyes burning fiercely. "We didn't know about any of this. Janin was permitted to find himself an orphan - a child living on the streets, or in an orphanage. When he arrived at the Castle with you, he told us that he'd heard a disturbance in the ruins and went to investigate, discovering you on the side of the road on the edge of Thyphlo ruins near the ransacked cart of your parents. His role in their deaths wasn't revealed to us until this morning."
"The stories match," Rhoam muttered. "I… I have no choice but to conclude that this is all true. Cassius Janin is a traitor to his post, to the oaths he took when he was knighted… to the kingdom itself." He shook his head slowly, mournfully, and turned his attention to the prisoner. "Well, Strinch, you've given us information that will be vital in dealing out justice long overdue." His voice wavered as he spoke, and although Link couldn't forget the pain he had suffered on the King's orders, he remembered well the anguish of learning about Janin's treachery. Janin is a highly trusted advisor - perhaps even a friend - to the King. Maybe Janin didn't kill his parents, but… that doesn't mean it wouldn't hurt to learn that someone so close to him did things he never imagined possible. It wasn't quite empathy that Link felt for Rhoam, but instead a solemn, reluctant sort of understanding.
Rhoam cleared his throat and continued. "What would you ask in return?"
Strinch glanced from Rhoam to Link; instead of answering the King's question he shuffled towards Link, with guilt in his dark eyes. "Champion," he began, "I hope you understand; we - I - didn't do this for a reward. We felt… we felt terrible about how we had spoken to you after we heard what the Captain said - it was clear to us then that we'd misjudged you. We spent the following day discussing what to do and decided that whoever had the least amount of time left on their sentence would seek an audience with the King to bring this to his attention. There were some doubts, of course - the prison's not exactly public, but neither was it entirely empty, what with the guards and all, so we didn't know for sure that the King didn't already know about it. But… we couldn't just sit still and do nothing."
He studied Link anxiously, clearly expecting an answer. Link avoided looking at him, choosing his words carefully. He had experienced so much worse than a few unkind words in the time after his imprisonment that, truly, they didn't bother him anymore. He dragged his eyes up to meet Strinch's and chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I… appreciate that you did this," he said at last. "And… and maybe, in the future, you might… consider that you don't - that none of you - have the entire story. Perhaps you'll… think more kindly of the Princess as well."
His ears burned as he felt the King's gaze boring into him. Strinch nodded with a grateful smile. "Of course, Champion."
Rhoam gestured dismissively with his hand, and the prison guard stepped out of his corner to escort Strinch out into the library - presumably to accompany him back to prison. Link stood up to leave, but the General pulled the door closed before he reached it. "I'm sorry, Link; we still have a few things we need to discuss with you," he explained quietly, motioning back to the chair, and Link sat back down, stiff and uncomfortable.
"My first question is why you didn't come forward with this information any sooner," Rhoam said, folding his hands together and leaning back in his chair. "You had no reason to protect Janin - from what I hear, you've been at odds with each other for several months now. Unless… did he threaten you?"
Link shook his head. "No, Sir. I was… I didn't say anything because… well, I assumed you already knew. He had… permission… to carry out his plans with me. I thought my parents' deaths were included in that. One of those… one of those 'for the benefit of the kingdom' decisions, placing the needs of the many over the needs of the few."
Rhoam looked genuinely hurt, his brow furrowed almost pitifully, his eyes wide with reproach. "You thought I would allow one of my closest advisors to have two innocent people killed so that he could - in essence - kidnap their child?" Without waiting for a reply he grimaced and went on. "I… I suppose I haven't given you much of an opportunity to believe in my ability to be merciful. I… I apologize for that."
Link didn't respond. It was startling to hear the King apologizing, but he couldn't bring himself to forgive just yet. Not while the memory of the bite of the whip lingered fresh in his mind. Not after seeing him continue to treat Zelda so poorly.
Rhoam studied him for a moment, a reluctant gleam of resignation in his eyes. He drew in a deep breath, exhaled heavily, and continued. "You… you would have told my daughter, though?"
Link licked his lips nervously, glancing at the General. I can't give away that she visited me against Rhoam's wishes. Nayru, guide my tongue. "She… she knew something was bothering me," he admitted quietly. "But… when she asked, it was still… still so recent. I didn't want to talk about it to anyone - I couldn't. Not when I… hadn't really come to terms with it yet myself."
Rhoam's countenance darkened, but the darkness was more regretful than malignant. "And… if I'd permitted her to see you these past days… she would've asked again, I'm sure - her curiosity is utterly insatiable." Link could've sworn he saw a brief, hesitant smile flit across the King's lips. "Would you have told her if she asked again?"
Yes, he wanted to say immediately, if only to encourage the King not to keep them separated any longer. But he couldn't answer, not without knowing if it was the honest truth. He couldn't bring himself to use the tragedy of his parents' deaths as a bargaining tool.
So… would I have told her, if she asked yesterday, or the day before? She, more than anyone, he knew he could trust. She loved him - he didn't doubt it. She wouldn't be asking him to further her own desires, or even to get back at Janin - she would ask because she knew he was hurting, and she wanted to help. That's why she asked the other two times, too. I just… wasn't ready then.
Would I have been ready if she asked a third time?
He met the King's gaze and nodded firmly. "Yes, sir."
"And she would have come to you, my King," General Hawkwood stepped in, placing a hand on Link's shoulder. "She loves this man as much as he loves her. She would have been horrified by Janin's actions and confronted you about them, to do anything she could to help in any way. Do you see now that their bond is a strength?"
The furrow between Rhoam's brows deepened, and he scowled. "Regrettably, I do," he muttered. "I cannot deny that we could have dealt with this sooner - even if only by a week - if not for my… if not for some of my decisions." His gaze snapped to Link's face, his eyes flashing like lightning. "Do not mistake my words for complacency, boy. If I find out that you've laid so much as a finger where it doesn't belong, I'll see to it that it won't be possible for you to do it again. You're familiar with horses, so I take it you know what a gelding is?"
Link gulped and nodded, feeling the blood drain from his face. And that's the point at which I'd run away from here, he thought with a shudder. "Y-yes, sir."
"Then you get the idea," Rhoam growled menacingly. "Now - back to business." The deep lines in his face softened, and once again he looked frail and tired. "We… we need to decide what is to be done about Cassius."
Updated 7/8
