Evil's Bane
Forgettable Stories
Two days later
The King of Hyrule stood upon a balcony which overlooked the great courtyard at the front of the royal castle. Before him stood a crowd of people comprising the great populace of Hyrule, from high-ranking bureaucrats and wealthy merchants, to everyday tradesmen and farmers. And each and every one of them were listening intently as he orated, hanging on his every word. If he was slowing with age, he certainly wasn't showing it now, not up there on that balcony where he was ruler of the world.
"People of Hyrule," he intoned gravely, "hard-working citizens of this beautiful, prosperous land, I stand before you today not as a monarch, but as a man of flesh and blood like any other…"
Elwin heard the words and let them wash over him without listening; only a few hours ago had he read through the whole thing as His Majesty himself presented it to his closest advisors. It was indisputable that the King had always been a magnificent speechwriter, just as it was undeniable that Elwin was proud to be in his small circle of trusted advisors.
Elwin's father's eldest brother was emperor of Reycarte, a distant state where the stark line between wealth and poverty could practically be drawn on a map. When he was nine he had come to Hyrule with his father who was on some vague, ill-defined diplomatic mission. His father had spent years working with the current King of Hyrule, apparently trying to create a channel of trade between the two nations, but such a clear objective didn't explain how his father had gradually become moody and introverted. When Elwin was twenty-one, his father died of a mysterious illness, leaving him alone in the Hylian royal court to fend for himself.
Since then he had spent close to fifteen years in this foreign land, not as a diplomat since his ties to his homeland were so weak (and the diplomatic relation between Reycarte and Hyrule appeared to have been brought to a halt). Instead he went to the King and was given work in the royal Treasury keeping track of the costs of clothing for soldiers in the army. It was, no doubt, a mundane task at first, adding totals and presenting them to the royal treasurer or a deputy, month in, month out. And then one day in talking to the merchants who supplied the garments he realised that in his position he could bargain with the merchants, and by token the weavers and tailors, and get slightly inferior products for a slightly smaller cost. And once he multiplied that slight saving by the rate at which the Hylian army enlisted, he was suddenly awash in Rupees which nobody else ever missed.
What to do with the money presented a slightly different problem – clearly, some level of indulgence was acceptable, but he had enough common sense not to invest in palatial estates, extravagant clothing, nightly orgies and monuments to his own name. Instead he found himself slightly better housing closer to the castle gates and kept the money safe for whenever he needed it. Elwin spent about eight years in the treasury before strategically letting a small amount of that money slip back into the system, where he used it to catalyse a change in supplier and an ambitious upgrade to the soldiers' armour. Somebody noticed, and within a few months' time he was the assistant to the King's economic advisor.
For a while he enjoyed his new position: after all, having even greater access to the royal money meant more opportunities to siphon gold out from the cracks. Then he decided that he could do better. Not long afterwards, the advisor he served under was fired after certain scandalous accusations made by a cook (who Elwin later paid several thousand Rupees for his trouble). Elwin took his place.
From the balcony the King continued to speak. "…all died fighting valiantly for their king and country. In their sacrifice, they have shown us what it truly means to be Hylian…"
"…and that we must never forget," muttered Elwin with mock passion, paraphrasing the next line of the King's speech.
He didn't really need to be standing here in this crowd. He already knew (as most of the royal court did) that that last push into the western desert had been tragically unsuccessful. He also knew just how deeply the King grieved for his son, surely lying among the countless other bodies out there in the sand. Really, Elwin could have been relaxing in his sizeable bedroom or misappropriating funds, but curiosity had gotten the better of him and now he was trawling through the crowd looking for a blue-blood in commoners' clothes.
He pushed through the crowd, just forceful enough to move quickly but otherwise avoiding making a nuisance of himself. Elwin never made enemies he didn't need.
It was difficult manoeuvring through the crowd, especially when there were soldiers and mages from the Royal Guard and the Peacekeeper's Guild wherever he looked, casting guarded looks at him as he brushed past.
He found her within a couple of minutes – the King's only daughter was blending almost perfectly into the crowd, with tasteful-but-inexpensive frayed clothes thrown on and mud methodically worked onto her hair and skin. The only reason he picked her out of the throng of people was the subtle increase in soldiers and mages in her immediate vicinity.
He worked his way around the guards and bystanders, all gazing up open-mouthed at the King on the balcony, and slid up next to the girl, all the while ignoring the burning eyes of her guards (at least he assumed that was why they were surrounding her).
"I'm impressed," he said, loudly enough for her to hear. "However you did it, I'm very impressed."
Princess Zelda glanced at him, smiled and returned her gaze back to the balcony where her father stood orating. "I'm sorry," she said with a tongue-in-cheek smile, "I'm only a fruit seller. You must have me confused with someone else."
Elwin suppressed a twinge of annoyance and instead chuckled softly. "You don't need to be down here. You already know what he's going to say."
"I wanted to see what everyone else felt," she replied, nodding her head to indicate the crowd at large. "To understand the effect that this all has on real people."
Elwin nodded. "As I was about to say, his Majesty doesn't usually deliver speeches that…"
"I was under the impression that he gave speeches all the time," said the girl, eyebrows raised. She raised two fingers and waved them through the air: it must have been a signal because the mages standing nearby visibly relaxed.
"Not for bad news like this," he said. "Why, after the messenger arrived with news of the tragedy in the desert he was telling his advisors that he would just let his heralds and representatives spread the news."
"Really," said Zelda, with just enough inflection in her voice to indicate that she was actually listening.
"Then you spent a few hours alone with him and suddenly he has a huge change of heart," continued Elwin. "The connection seems fairly obvious."
"Now that you mention it, I suppose there is some truth to it," she said, a small but proud smirk creeping onto her face. "And keep your voice down."
"How did you…" began Elwin, but she raised a warning hand.
"Shh," said the princess quickly, and she reached out with one hand, placing her index finger directly in between them. Elwin stared at it, momentarily perplexed, and then he gingerly reached out with a finger of his own and let it touch hers…
…and then there was total silence. The King was still speaking and the crowd was still sobbing and cheering – Elwin could still feel the air move with the noise – but he heard nothing, nothing at all.
"Nice spell," he said despite himself.
"I said, be quiet," said Zelda in the softest of whispers. "Not everybody here has turned up to discuss court gossip." Sensing his hesitation, she added, "Go on…"
Elwin lowered his voice, barely letting it rise above his breath. "How did you convince His Majesty to deliver the speech?"
"That's all?" said Zelda, as if she'd been expecting a more taxing question. Her gaze was still fixed on her father high above. "Oh, I just asked him politely. It's only proper especially since my own brother was in that army."
He laughed uncertainly. "None of us would dare." He paused and added, "'Us' being his court advisors. Or the government officials."
She shrugged – something fairly difficult to do without breaking the physical contact between their hands. "Perhaps that is because none of you are the King's daughter," she said.
"Maybe so," he said, unsure if she was joking. "A daughter's request… was that really all there was to it?"
"Trying to weasel out my secrets?" she said with a teasing smile. "Hungry for a bit more… influence with my father?"
Elwin laughed and shook his head, though the princess was just about right. Not too much of a surprise, though; from all accounts she was a smart young woman, somewhat in her father's image. Never mind; there was more than one way to play this game.
Time to change the subject, decided Elwin. "I don't think we've been properly introduced," he said.
"Elwin, isn't it?" said Zelda, and she finally turned her head and fixed her full attention upon him. "You used to help keep up the Treasury, and now you're one of my father's advisors."
"I'm surprised you remembered that," said Elwin, which was true.
Zelda laughed. "I always paid more attention to my father's court than my brother ever did. Does," she added with a perplexed look on her face. "Ever does." She shook it off. "I'm not really sure what to believe about Verdin being dead. I'm not sure what I want to believe."
He took this as a personal confidence and nodded solemnly. "Death is always confusing for us mortals, Princess."
"You remembered my name?" whispered Zelda in mock surprise, and this time Elwin laughed genuinely, drawing strange looks from a few people standing nearby. He'd almost forgotten that there was an enchantment on them right now.
"Princess…" he began, dropping back into a quiet murmur.
"Please, call me Zelda," said Zelda.
"Well, only if you insist," said Elwin, feigning discomfort. "Zelda, are you at all interested in castle politics?"
"Elaborate." She was interested.
"Well, it seems to me that between the two of us, we're in a very interesting position," said Elwin. "As one of his Majesty's close advisors, I believe I am in an excellent position to assist him in making rational, calculated decisions – the sort that affect Hyrule in its trivial, day-to-day affairs…"
"You're not seriously suggesting…" said Zelda scornfully.
"…and clearly you're able to guide – and have guided – the King in making certain personal, emotional decisions…" Elwin paused, wondering how best to phrase the next part. "Between us, I believe we could assist the King, your father, in his all-important governing role – not constantly, all the time; just making sure that his firm leadership never strays… off-course…"
Zelda was looking at him with a mixture of bemusement and admiration. "Even if what you're suggesting was possible, that would be akin to doing Father's duty for him…"
Elwin nodded. "With Hyrule's best interests at heart, of course," he said, realising his mistake a split-second later.
She stiffened. "You're suggesting that my father doesn't have the kingdom's best interests at heart?"
"Of course not!" said Elwin quickly. "All I meant was that… surely you've noticed that over the last few years, his Majesty has begun to… pardon my bluntness… slow?"
She paused, considering. "It is true that his personality has changed markedly," she said after a few seconds' thought. She laughed reflectively, as if dredging up a not-totally-pleasant memory. "In fact, just the other day…"
"Yes?" said Elwin instantly.
Zelda blinked. "Oh, nothing important," she said. He must have seemed too eager.
"Well, you see my point," he said, falling back into his earlier rhythm. "His Majesty is still sharp as a dagger, but in those occasional moments where his judgement lapses, wouldn't it be useful for us to be there as… safeguards?"
"Your proposition is an interesting one," said Zelda, "but I really don't think that I can accept it, not rationally."
"Rationally?" said Elwin.
"You keep speaking of a partnership as if we are both dependent upon each other," she said with a shrug, "and I really don't see how that works since I'm not usually involved in my father's affairs. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that you're hoping to gain my trust so that you can use me as ammunition in whatever games you and my father and the advisors play."
"You insult me," he said solemnly.
"Not at all," said Zelda. "If I were in your position, I'm sure I would do the same."
Elwin exhaled slowly. "Even if what you say is true, surely it is in your best interests to become more thoroughly acquainted with your Father's monarchical duties, especially if you are to become Queen…"
Zelda laughed but there was no humour left in her voice. "When and if I decide to take an interest in my father's business, I'm sure I'll be able to do it without you holding my hand."
"Well…"
"Also, I'm not going to be a queen because my brother is not dead," snapped Zelda, snatching her hand away from him.
The moment that happened, the connection between them broke and suddenly the spell of silence had vanished. Elwin winced momentarily as his hearing returned to normal and the sounds of the crowd re-emerged. People were yelling and cheering; clearly the King had reached the tail-end of his speech.
Sure enough, his Majesty was still delivering an impassioned monologue. "In their memory – we will keep Hyrule safe. In their memory – we will stand firm in the face of enemies without and within. In their memory – this proud land will, as it always has…"
Elwin glanced at where Zelda had been standing, considering making a last-ditch effort to change her mind. But that wasn't going to be – she was drifting off through the crowd, that quiet circle of bodyguards casually moving off in the same direction. Already she was fading from view as the crowd swayed around her cheering the king.
"A pity," he sighed, and went inside.
That morning Link packed a bag, borrowed a horse, and rode off into town by himself.
The decision had been made the previous evening, after he had come back inside after a tough afternoon's work (Talon stayed inside the house with his daughters, and it was understood that he would not be doing anything on the ranch that day). A meagre supper was prepared, again by Link since despite her protests to the contrary Malina wasn't in the right state of mind to be cooking, and after the two girls were fed Link and Talon sat across from each other at the kitchen table and ate in silence.
It was only afterwards, as they circled the empty farm at sunset checking on the animals, that they started talking, first in simple mundane questions and monosyllables, then, in short half-sentences that skimmed on the surface of but never really addressed the confusion and anxiety they both knew they were feeling. Finally they moved into a slow and painfully drawn-out talk that bordered on honest.
"They're going to be all right," Talon had said as they walked the perimeter of the farm. "I'm not a doctor by any means but Goddesses-willing, they're going to be all right."
Link didn't say anything; he just nodded and accepted it.
"I just don't understand…" Talon went on.
Link said neither did he, and they walked on for a while.
The night before that, the two of them had returned from town to find holes torn into the walls of the barn, and flames rising from the nearest paddock, steam rising as a strange design burnt into the grass. The fire was quickly doused, and only then did they venture into the barn. Inside, bright-red bolts of electricity danced across the struts of the walls, illuminating them in an eerie red glow. Splinters of wood from the barn walls had flown everywhere, sticking out from the walls and ground at jagged angles. The floor was littered with a handful of bodies – in the darkened light they found a few dead horses and cows, pooling blood on the floor, and both of Talon's daughters on the ground. Malina was huddled into a ball, whimpering, and when she looked up and recognised them there was a long cut across the side of a face where, she later said, a fragment of wood had sliced through as it ricocheted across the barn. At the time, though, shock had sealed her lips, and it seemed that Talon too was silent and father and daughter held each other close in mutual necessity. Then Link went to Nemia – she was unconscious, and though it was dark he could see clearly that something was wrong; the colour of her skin was uneven and her limbs were bent at impossible angles. He called for Talon and the man came lumbering after him, unable to comprehend what was going on, much less that it wasn't some twisted dream brought on by a long day's work. He saw; he didn't believe; and so he simply regarded her not as his eldest daughter but some sick, imaginary rendition of her. Acceptance would come later.
Somehow the four of them had found themselves outside the barn soon after, and then after that inside, gates shut and doors locked for that extra illusion of safety. Nemia was breathing; Malina had started speaking hysterically, telling them how scared she was and apologising and babbling incoherent nonsense about a grey-skinned jester. Talon and Link had sat in silence, the former sculling down a heavy-smelling drink. The thought that something so grotesque; so inhuman; could happen at home had still been a foreign one.
Talon and Link continued to pace the exterior of the farm, the warmth-less sunset casting long shadows before them.
"I spent all day with them," Talon said, breaking the silence yet again.
Link grunted, still unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't ring hollow.
Talon nodded; deep down he understood. "Malina is fine. They're just cuts… see 'em all the time. Nemia… I don't know what happened."
Link had seen Nemia in the daylight. Her skin had been magically seared, blackening patches across her face and body that could have passed for bruises except a hundred times more sensitive to pain. Her legs were a twisted mess – bones still intact yet broken in some fundamental way that left them hanging out in all directions, making it impossible for her to sit let alone stand. The poor girl was bedridden.
"Goddesses…" he had whispered at the time, but what Goddesses would have let this happen?
"Link," Nemia had said; her voice quiet since she hadn't eaten since forever. "Close the door… please," she added, and they exchanged ghosts of smiles.
He closed the door.
"Don't let Dad know," she said the moment it was shut, "he wouldn't understand. Maybe Mum would've. I don't know."
"What are you…?"
"Last night," she said. "Malina and I were in the barn talking. Then there was… I don't know what to call him. He looked like a jester, one of those travelling performers or something… but he didn't look human, the colours were all wrong."
"That's what she was muttering about?" said Link.
Nemia blinked. "The colours were all wrong. And there was this red, red… I don't know, glow to him… and they way he spoke it was like he was having fun coming into the barn and scaring us like that… whatever he is, he frightens me sometimes."
"Listen, Nemia…"
"No, you listen, Link," said Nemia, straining to lift her head up. "It's important. Whatever you want to ask me, it doesn't matter, I feel fine, I'll be okay – look, this jester creature said it was looking for the one who did magic. Looking for me."
He shook his head; still clinging to that phase of denial where it was all just some unfortunate coincidence. "Nemia, why would he be…" he said.
"He was," said Nemia. "Please, trust me, he was."
"Didn't you run?" said Link.
"No," said Nemia. "We were too scared. We just stayed rooted to the spot and he just kept talking. Could you…?"
Link's gaze followed her motioning hand to a cup half-filled with water sitting on a crate near the bed. He passed it to her, and she pulled herself up to drink it. Her hands were free of magical burns, but they still trembled as she brought the drink to her mouth.
"Why was this man looking for you?" said Link, staring right through her. "It's just a farm."
Nemia said, "Because I know magic. He said it was because I know magic."
A brief silence, in which she waited for him to digest this information.
"While he was doing this…" she held up her scarred arms, "to me, he was whispering. Not to me… well, yes, to me, but half the time it sounded like he was talking to himself… he just kept saying that it was my fault, that I shouldn't have been learning to do magic…"
Link nodded without meaning it. "I still don't…"
Her eyes were alive now. "It's not just me, don't you understand? I'm not the first, I'm not going to be the last. He's probably going around the kingdom, doing this to everyone. I don't know why but this jester is trying to stop people, young people like us, from using magic."
Link felt a tugging feeling in his gut… déjà vu. He tried to recall what this was reminding him of, but as he tried he felt the thought slipping away from him. Frustrated, he closed his eyes and tried to drag it back to the front of his mind, but to no avail. Never mind. It probably wasn't anything important.
Aloud, he said: "But we'd have heard if this person had hurt other people before… wouldn't the army have done something about it?"
"Maybe," said Nemia, setting her empty cup down sideways on the mattress, where it threatened to roll off. "Hyrule is great in size. Maybe you're right but the news just hasn't reached us yet."
"Maybe," said Link. He took the cup from the bed and set it down on the floor. "I hope they find him. He deserves…"
"Link," she said, cutting him off, "what if the authorities don't know? Maybe nobody else has seen what he looks like."
"They'd know," said Link; though he had never really seen them firsthand he had faith in the powers-that-be of Hyrule. "They'd have to know. Maybe the royal army is trying to catch him this very moment. If…"
Nemia made a noise that sounded halfway between a derisive laugh and a snort (for the briefest of moments Talon's reclusive eldest daughter looked exactly like her father). "Please. We don't know that. If the King knew then they'd have stopped Salencia already."
"Sal…?"
"That was his name," said Nemia. She frowned. "Funny. He didn't tell us his name. He…" Blink. "Never mind. You have to go to town. Find someone from the army or the Peace guild. Even if I'm wrong and it's just me somebody needs to know that there's a madman roaming the country."
"But I can't go…" began Link.
"Yes, you can," said Nemia. "Dad was running this farm by himself for ages before he had you around to pick up the slack. Malina has a couple of scratches on her face, that's all; you being around isn't going to get her better any faster. And I think I've been through the worst already. I promise I won't turn into a weeping mess during the couple of days you're gone for."
Link nodded… she was right, but this didn't exactly do anything for his enthusiasm about the idea. What was he supposed to do, run into Castle Town and start shouting to anyone who'd listen about an evil jester that no, he hadn't seen himself? It wasn't going to work…
"Look," said Nemia, as if reading his mind, "just go into town and find the Peacekeeping Guild. They're supposed to have some of the best magic-users in the kingdom. If anyone knows what's going on or what to do, it'd be them."
That wouldn't be too hard… Link nodded. "Okay," he said, "if you think I should, I'll go to town and do that."
Nemia smiled. "I knew you'd come through for me," she said warmly. "Tell my dad you're going… just not what the jester said, if I know him he'll take it very personally, even more than now. Wouldn't want him running off trying to find some crazy mage… that's just not a job for one man."
Link managed a small laugh.
And so when he and Talon walked around the farm Link's mind was already set; all he had left was to convince the farmer. As it turned out, Talon acquiesced readily.
"You want to find help?" he'd said. "I reckon that's a great idea. See if you can find someone who knows what to do about Nemia's… who can fix her up."
Link agreed.
"If you're going to be by yourself in town you'll need somewhere to stay," Talon went on. "I'll fix you up with some money later, okay?"
And so it was settled; the boy would go out into town and find help, and the farm would go on without him for the next few days. That night he slept restlessly, and didn't wake until a good hour after sunrise. He was apprehensive despite Nemia's assurances, and when he pecked her on the cheek before he left his mind was about as distanced as it could possibly be from adolescent obsessions. Granted, it was barely more than delivering a message to the right people, but it didn't feel like that. In his mind, this was the most important thing he'd ever done.
That morning Link packed a bag, borrowed a horse, and rode off into town by himself.
A/N: Another really slow chapter from my perspective. I don't know about you but for me the second section really dragged (and if it wasn't kind of necessary to the arc I would so have axed it). On the other hand I was fairly happy with how the latest character-introduction turned out, but that's opinion as well (and if you could spare the half-minute I'd love to hear what you thought).
…have a nice day?