Chapter 7:
Link woke up to next morning's cock-crow. Once again he had slept little, due to the death watch taking until midnight. But even then his head had abuzz with thoughts.
He washed, dressed in his battle armour (his oldest, most tatty tunic) and grabbed bread and butter from the kitchen. He was still famished from last night and wolfed it down. His mother needed only a brief look to tell that he was still barely awake. She gave him a sympathetic look, but ultimately couldn't help.
Link grabbed his training sword, walked outside, cursed heartily under his breath and started running. Even though it was barely daytime, it was already sweltry outside. Still, his overworked muscles needed a few turns around the village before they mellowed. At one point, after the 7th lap he had to stop briefly to catch his breath. His throat was dry as dirt and he needed to cough. He actually felt rather sick.
He took a few deep breaths and continued, suppressing the queasy feeling in his stomach. Nayru's mercy, he was an idiot! Why the hell had he eaten so much?! He must have devoured a whole loaf! It certainly felt like it, bouncing as he ran.
He did his 10 laps and reached the square, sweating and wheezing. He once again wondered why he actually put up with all that idiocy.
Sir Russel walked up to him and yanked him upright. "Pull yourself together, boy! What should our guest think of you, bent double like an old woman?"
Guest?!
Link looked up and saw a young man on the other side of the square. Older than him, but not by much, dark shoulder long hair and a slightly amused expression on his face. Link's bastard-sensors woke up to survey the situation.
He mustered his strength and tried to control his breath.
Sir Russel introduced them: "Link, this is Halvor of House Korneil. He squires for Sir Craster, an old friend of mine. He agreed to act as your training partner for today. Halvor, this is Link, my charge."
The squire slowly approached him and extended his hand. Link gripped his forearm, as did he, but only very briefly.
Sir Russel continued "Young Halvor will be competing in the regular tourney of swordmastery, so try to learn as much as you can."
Currently, Link tried as much as he could not to burp. Right now he hated the old man for bringing this unwanted guest.
"Why don't you two begin with a bit of sparring, so you get to know each other?"
"Sure, why not?" Halvor sing-songed and turned away to take his place across the square.
Link bent towards his mentor. "Why did you have to bring this… guy." he restrained himself at the last second.
"Because I haven't been in the city for years. I don't know what nasty little tricks they have since come up with, or how their fighting style changed. This is our chance to learn before the actual tourney." The old bear grumbled.
While that did, of course, make sense to Link, he still was none too happy.
He took a few deep breaths and assumed his fighting stance.
"Standard rules, light hits only. Combatants, begin!" Sir Russel bellowed.
Halvor hadn't moved an inch. He was waiting with a tiny smile playing on his noble lips. He is not taking me seriously, thought Link. Let's see if we can't change that.
He made a few careful steps forward. He noticed his opponent was left handed too. That would be interesting. He also saw that he held his steel a little to the left, opening up his right side. That had to be a trap, it was too obvious. But why not used that?
Link feinted a jab for the right, crouched down and turned his attack into a rising slash.
Halvor sidestepped impossibly quick, deflected his attack and used the gained momentum to smack Link's cheek on his way back up. "Dead." Before Link could retaliate he had already jumped out of range.
It hadn't been a hard hit, just enough to sting, but it wasn't meant to be. It was only meant to humiliate him, to put him in his place, slapped like a child. He forced his temper down. Rage wouldn't help him much. What had he seen? This boy was quick and lithe, similar to himself. The old bear, while quick, had a much heavier hand.
The one he knew that came closest, was Mart. Alright, let's change tactics.
He bent over a little more, like a cat, ready to pounce. Halvor caught it immediately and did the same. Still that grin, Link thought. Suddenly the squire attacked, two wide swings chained together to get him to backpedal, followed by a flurry of quick jabs and stabs. Link barely parried all of them. He tried turning his last deflect into a low sweep, targeting his opponent's forward foot. However, Halvor just raised his leg for just enough time to allow Link's steel to pass harmlessly and used his own sword to crack down on Link's head. "Dead." The boy sang.
Link's vision swam a little bit, adding to the rising wave of nausea. Light hits, my arse! He knew he couldn't win. In the tourney he would have to hit him tree times, while that buffoon only had to hit him once more. But he'd be damned if he'd let that guy win with this bloody grin on his face.
Once again he fought down queasiness and thought about their last bout. Twice he had attacked that bastard low and it hadn't worked. He however had only ever attacked high. He remembered what Sir Russel had said the other day. Don't react but know the course of battle as if you were led by divine hand, or some such. Despite feeling like he might fall over, he tried to get a feel for his opposite. He saw each step again, reviewed each of his reactions in just a second.
He had a plan. He only had to manage the execution…
He dashed forward into a flurry of his own. The sudden attack had surprised Halvor and he actually took a step back. But he quickly rallied and entered into a quick mêlée of steel. Link knew he couldn't keep up for long so he lunged forward into another rising slash. Halvor once again sidestepped and brought his own blade down to meet Link's face. This time however the younger boy stepped at the same time in the same direction but kept the momentum from his lunge. He dove under the downwards swing, half-sworded his blade and rammed it upwards under the squires armpit, who yelped in pain and surprise. But he wasn't done. He spun around so he stood behind his enemy, released his highly held blade with his right and executed a quick downward strike. Halvor spun around himself. Link's blade hit him only on the shoulder and he had just enough time to duck his head away from the older lad's brutal horizontal swing.
Still: two to two!
Link saw with great satisfaction that the squire's grin had miraculously vanished, making room for a hostile snarl. He worked his shoulder. Two hits, one from below, one from above on the same joint. That must've hurt.
However, Link's brief elation was somewhat curbed by another wave of nausea. The exertion and sudden manoeuvres were not well received in his bowels. He had to stifle another burp, swallowed sour spit and felt faint.
Too late he noticed Halvor's nasty grin.
The older boy stepped so Link was between him and Sir Russel and carried out a few long hard strikes that Link just so managed to deflect. Suddenly the squire shortened the distance, gripped his sword handle with both hands and rammed it into Link's stomach. Link doubled over and his chin was met with Halvor's elbow. Finally the young noble hopped back and drove his dull tip into Link's solar plexus.
Link went to his knees and vomited violently. Between seemingly endless waves he heard a sweet voice exclaim. "Oh really now. I didn't hit that hard!"
The shame hit Link twice as hard as Halvor's slashes ever could. Hurling like a chump, right in front of his teacher.
To make matters worse, Sir Russel bent down with him, held his hair out of his face and steadied him. "It's alright. Out with it all."
"I do apologize." Halvor piped. "It must be the heat! Don't hold it against him, Sir Russel. He is still young, after all."
This rotten arsehole! Link shook with rage. If his stomach didn't still convulse he would have jumped this bastard and smashed his head in.
"You may go, Halvor. I will have a word with your protector." Sir Russel barked and expelled him from his square.
After an eternity, Link's stomach finally settled down.
"Better?" the old knight mumbled.
Link only nodded weakly. He slowly stood up. His knees wobbled and the world spun but he'd not go back down! He was far too angry for that.
"You did well. Very well! He is three years your senior and highly talented. Yet you still managed to even out the score."
Link didn't want to hear all that. "Why did you even let me fight this arsehole? He is a lying, foul-playing bastard. Did you just want to see me lose? Is that it?" He shouted. He was tired, feverish and everything hurt. He had enough.
"He is that. Don't think I didn't notice his foul. But what do you think awaits you at the tourney? Angels, fighting fairly? No, it's pieces of dung like him. Although, I must apologize. I should have stopped the fight before it got out of hand." The old man said calmly.
"Oh, thank you, then, for that educational journey! And do you want to turn me into a back-stabbing dirt-bag as well? Is that how you see me? Your cheap tool to rake in glory in the city?" Link screamed. He had never felt so humiliated and betrayed.
"No. You are my student and I want…" Sir Russel started, taken aback.
"You want! I can see that you want! But I don't! I will no longer be your punching bag, Sir Russel. I refuse to be turned into one of these noble scumbags. I'm leaving!"
He turned on his heel and stormed off. He had hoped Sir Russel would call after him, even insult him, but there was just silence.
Din's hellfire but he was furious. He knew he hadn't been fair to the old knight, but he didn't care right now. He was so sick of all of this. This village, this training that made him hurt, the constant humiliation in the square which had just reached a new colossal peak… everything!
He had to stop himself from inanely roaring with rage.
He was already on the path to his house when he heard a soft, worried voice.
"Link? Are you alright?"
He looked up and his whole body went cold. "Sally" stood in front of him in the same garb as yesterday. Here he stood, dirty, sweaty, speckled with sick and probably reeking.
She looked at him, concerned. "Are you alright?" she repeated.
"I'm fine!" he snapped. Goddess, he sounded like an idiot, saying that.
"What happened?" she made a step towards him.
He stepped back, not wanting to soil her clothes, but also just not wanting anyone close right now.
"I stopped training for the tourney. I won't go." He rasped, sounding petulant even to himself.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because of people like that squire, Halvor. Because of that old brute Russel. Because I am not good enough and I refuse to become better via dirty tricks and foulness. Because I have enough going on without waking up in pain every goddess-damned day. Because… because… ARGH!" He screamed.
"It's alright. Let it out!" she said. He was startled to see a little fear in her eyes, but it was overpowered by mindless rage.
"Because that tourney only serves as merriment for people like you, your highness!" he hissed.
She stared in shock. Her face went completely white and her hands bunched into fists.
"Who do you think you're fooling? I'm not a complete idiot, despite what you might think about us common folk. Poor girl, coddled by life, no care in the world. Do you have any freaking idea what a nightmare my life is?"
He knew instantly he had way overstepped his mark. He saw a deadly cold fury replace the shocked silence on her face. His senseless fury turned to deep shame to have so unfairly raged against this innocent girl.
"Your life? You sit here in this paradise, you could not have more freedom, have food and family, and yet you dare accuse me of being coddled? By my fifth birthday I have already seen victims of war, one legged, one armed that took their lot in life with more pride and dignity than you, you self righteous, lazy complainer! You dare to say I have no care in the world?" her fists were shaking with her own wrath.
"I am surrounded by hordes of conniving, back-stabbers every day that would rather burn the country to the ground than see me on the throne. I have not had a single day to myself since the day my mother died. I try my hardest every day to learn about my people so I can one day do well by them. And you dare…" she raised her hand and pointed right at Link's face. "…to tell me that your life is hard?"
Her tone switched to derision. "You have more in common with nobles like Gorridan or that squire than you think, complainer! The one time in your life something doesn't go to your liking and you throw everything away and blame everybody for your 'nightmarish' life. Childish!"
And with that she turned on her heel and glided away.
Link felt like a complete and utter ass. He knew she was right for the most part. He did have a good, safe life. And he had to admit, that he had never thought about what the politics in Hyrule might do to a young girl.
But him being like nobles? Now his anger was back, but it was a calmer, a more directed anger. The sort of angry determination you could bend steel over.
This princess, this… girl dared to accuse him of being one of these idle, careless aristocrats? He had complained, true! He had been childish, fine! But he was nothing like them. He would not throw down sword fighting. This royal, this… brat thought she had figured him out. He would show her! He knew she would attend the tourney, she had said so herself. He would dominate the square in the city of Hyrule and he would change her mind!
He stomped off back the way he came to apologize to Sir Russel. His training lesson still lasted at least another hour.