Chapter 9:
Link
Link started awake with a gasp, then sat in his bed, panting. With eyes wide open he looked around, the darkness seeming to creep around him. But soon his vision cleared, the dark corners of his room returned to normal and his breath steadied. He touched the skin on his bare chest, then the linen below him. Completely drenched…
"What in all the hells was that about?" he whispered aloud. His dream, his nightmare had been of her, standing amidst a roaring maelstrom of darkness. Evil black tendrils ravaged the ground around her, creeping ever closer. He had felt her fear, her desperation. But then she had suddenly shone with a radiant light that seemed to come from within. It had vanquished the dark, tore through it like a well honed blade through cloth. Then she fell. Then nothing.
Link put his face in his hands and massaged his temples. He very rarely had nightmares and then never this real, this close. He usually rejected the thought of soothsaying or oneiromancy, thinking them fraudulent endeavours, but right now he was not at all sure.
"Get yourself together, boy!" Sir Russel's voice rang in his mind. He had to grin a bit and looked through the window. Still deep into the knight. He couldn't see the moon but his internal clock said it was around 1 o'clock. He gazed at the gently wafting trees in the nightly breeze. The princess' panicked face haunted him.
Link shook his head. Nonsense! Meeting the future monarch, even getting to know her a bit, didn't mean you suddenly developed prophetic tendencies. He had to snort at the absurd thought. He lay back onto his back, trying to avoid the sweat soaked spot. The brief moment of worry for her had momentarily dispelled the still lightly simmering anger he felt when he thought of her. He was no longer filled with rage, of course, that would just be juvenile! But her last comments still glimmered in his pride. He used it as fuel for his renewed training.
Thinking of training, he should go back to sleep. His mentor had, understandably, not relented a millimetre after Link had apologized for his insolent behaviour. Quite the contrary. But at least the old bear had accepted Link's remorse and wasn't vindictive. …mostly.
The lad turned to his side and closed his eyes. His exerted body soon pulled him back to sleep. His last thought had been "I'd much rather dream of her in a pleasant way." He drifted away with a smile.
Link had stood up before anybody else. He was already once again drenched when the first rays of sunlight crept over the eastern hills. He was doing his forms and practicing his technique among the apple trees, a little way off from the house. The first night he had unthinkingly done so right under his parents' bedroom, which had earned him a few curses from his mother. "Weeks you do nothing and now you wake us with your panting and stomping, you brat, I should take that stick from you and put you over my knee until your bottom glows like hot coals, you ungrateful twit, you'll not eat for a week…" she screamed, all in one breath. He had to laugh between his cuts. He wished he had such stamina.
When the cock crowed he finished his last sequence of cuts, jabs and steps and went to clean himself before breakfast. Now, of course, he ate almost twice as much, much to his mother's mock chagrin. Meera was always somewhere between "You lazy bum!" and "Take care not to work too hard, dear!".
André had not relented either. He was still required to continue his apprenticeship. Link didn't mind. He knew that one victory at a tourney wouldn't sustain him forever. And it wasn't even sure he would win at all. But right now he was not allowing himself to consider any other outcome. He had to prove something, didn't he?
At the breakfast table he had a vivid discussion with his with his little brother, André Jr. about sword fighting. The seven year old was currently discovering the pleasure of holding little tournaments with his friends. Apparently the boy had been infected with his own recent enthusiasm and was now questioning his older brother relentlessly. Link had to promise him that he would regularly show him a few tricks. His father had had a little grin on his face while his mother had shot him a warning glance. Link knew what hells would await him if he taught something dangerous to her baby boy. There'd probably be nothing left of him…
Link had already put new coals in the forge and had lighted it when his father entered the smithy. He was about to resume yesterday's sharpening of arrow tips when André had a surprise for him.
"No. Today you'll help me with this." He said, pulling out a yellow-glowing bar from the forge. It was the same piece of steel his father had started on a couple of days ago. It was almost to length now, a little bit too thick still and still just a rectangle. Link could already gauge its finished shape roughly.
The surprise came when his father didn't take the hammer, but the tongs, held the steel fast and looked expectantly at his son.
He would do the last bit of forming! He had of course already done nails, horseshoes and other simpler work all by himself, but this was new territory. Sure, he'd seen his father work many times, but until now he had only assisted.
Link grabbed the large hammer that was used for drawing out the steel.
"Start slowly, softly. Get a feel for its weight. Be careful not to hammer any spot out too thin or we'll have to fold it over. Start from the back and push the material towards the tip." His father explained.
Link nodded and took the hammer with both hands. His first few nervous hits were more of a shy love-tap and he felt like a dolt. He half expected André to lose patience with him. But soon he got a feel for how the metal moved under his hits, how it flowed lethargically away from his hammering.
Link occasionally looked up to wait for his father's silent nod before continuing.
A few times they traded places so the master blacksmith could prevent a misshape before it even happened.
After many re-heats the steel was finally to length and Link felt very satisfied. His first delicate piece of work and he hadn't ruined it. Now Link could really see the shape of the sword that was still hidden within the length of metal.
"Good. We'll resume tomorrow. You'll start bevelling it. That will really test your skill. Now: dinner time." André mumbled.
Link looked outside, slightly perplex. He'd been so concentrated that he hadn't noticed that the whole morning had passed already. He also noticed now that his stomach had filed a complaint about emptiness about two hours ago. He rearranged his father's tools, then walked outside into the sun, gently stretching his overworked shoulders and arms. He sighed. Now, instead of his relatively easy work at the grindstone, he would swing a hammer all morning for the next weeks. Can arms just fall off if they've had enough?
The scent of his mother's cooking caressed his nose. His stomach made its opinion heard with a loud gurgle.
Well, no rest for the stupid, Link thought, chuckling.
Link arrived at the square after his run. The old slave driver had upped the distance by two kilometres. His head swam and hot air stifled him, but he'd made it.
While Sir Russel poured them both some water, Link prepared his training steel. He had used the time between dinner and now with more self-study and practice. Even though the handle of his steel was wrapped in soft leather, his left hand already had blisters the size of Ricco's buttocks. Yesterday the old bear had shown him how to bind his hand with cloth strips to protect it without sacrificing grip. Right now he struggled to remember the rather complex binding technique and to replicate it with his clumsier right hand.
Sir Russel waited impatiently for him to finish, then stepped into the square. "Right. Battle stance! Attack!" he barked
Link was momentarily nonplussed. They had never started with a bout before. What was the old man scheming?
Link raised his blade and started circling his opponent. The knight hardly seemed ready, his blade held low by his side, his stance relaxed. He hesitated.
"I told you to attack, boy!" he snarled.
Link set his jaw. Very well.
He swung his blade from his right to the old man's unprotected side. He deflected it easily, killing all momentum. But Link speedily turned 360 degrees so his next heavy slash had all his weight behind it. His sword met only air as his teacher had stepped back just enough to be out of reach. Sir Russel stepped closer again, stabbing right at Link's throat. He had just enough time to redirect his steel's impetus to turn his master's blade away and attempt a grazing hit at the same time. While a hit like that wouldn't get him points in the tournament, it could still disorient or dishearten an opponent. It worked mediocrely. He had landed the strike on the old man's shoulder, but his defence had suffered for it. Sir Russel allowed his sword to be turned away slightly, kneeled and drew it neatly across Link' belly. Thankfully he had reacted quickly enough to harden his abdominal muscles, or he would probably eat dust right now.
They stepped apart.
Sir Russel nodded. "Not too shabby. Interesting what a little bloody motivation can do, isn't it, boy?"
Link took the rare compliment and accepted the jibe.
"How many moves did it take me to defeat you?" he asked.
Link let their exchange pass before his eyes again. "Four. One deflect, one back-step, one stab and a slash." Link listed.
"True. Four. Remember that! Three days ago, before whatever happened that finally put some fire in you, it would probably have taken me one, boy. I should slap you for wasting my time all these weeks but at least you're serious now. Four!" he repeated, raising as many fingers on his hand.
"Now put that blade away. Today we'll start with something new. You'll like it, I'm sure!" the old bear grinned fiendishly.
Link suddenly had his doubts that he would, actually, but was intrigued none the less.
Sir Russel walked towards the small table, opened an oblong case and took out a "sword".
Link had a ringing laughing fit when he saw it. It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever seen. It was just as long as the standard tourney blade but much, much thicker and broader. It looked like a double edged meat cleaver!
The old knight grinned to, albeit more predatorily.
"Glad you like it! Meet your new weapon!" and he threw it skilfully at his student.
Link caught it, barely. That monster was at least twice as heavy. It had a huge pommel at the back of its handle, to balance the ludicrous blade. Link checked its balance sceptically. It had a decent equilibrium, at least.
"Go ahead, give it few swings, boy!" the old man smirked. He had altogether too much fun right now.
The perplexed teen tried one of the more complex forms with the thing. He nearly keeled over a few times! He definitely didn't have enough strength to hold it horizontally with outstretched arm. He felt somewhere between laughing and crying.
"From now on, you'll train half the time with that blade. Her name is Bertha and she's been with me since I was about your age. Take good care of her." Sir Russel said with a gravely chuckle.
"Bertha?! Fit's like a glove." Link thought sullenly. This was going to be hell.
"Thanks. I love her already!" he exclaimed in theatrical glee.
"Nice! Then you'll love her little children!" and the old bear produced three leather wrappings that clanked dangerously.
Link's heart sank even further.
"Two for your legs, one for your right arm. Would look like a putz with only one muscular limb, right?"
Link took them from his teacher's hands. They all looked very well used. One looked almost ready to disintegrate spontaneously.
"I'll call this one Russel!" Link announced cheekily.
The knight snorted. "Sure, it'll be the one that'll chafe you the worst."
They weren't that heavy, but he could see how, after a training session, that subjective viewpoint could change drastically. This was going to be hell!
While he wrapped them around his legs and wrist and clamping them closed, his mentor explained: "As I said, half your training. Don't exaggerate with the things boy. Wouldn't be healthy. You also mustn't forget your normal blade's feeling in your hand. And don't run with them. Not good for your joints."
Link finished gearing up and did a few experimental steps and slashes. It felt as if he moved through honey, rather than air.
"Good. Now. Show me your forms!" Sir Russel barked.
And so he started. It was hell.
A few hours later Link sat in the tavern with Ricco and Marten. He tried his utmost not to show that he felt wobbly like a Chuchu, but to little avail. He even had trouble lifting his cup with lemon water. More than once his dear friend Ric joked about his new poor disabled companion and tried to feed him with his own fork. While funny, Link didn't want to laugh right now, because it hurt. As did moving. And breathing. And existing. And… At least is was a good kind of pain.
They still talked about the royal retinue. What else was there to talk about?
Of course he'd had to tell his friends what had happened with the girl, after they had prodded him relentlessly. Naturally he didn't reveal her identity. He didn't doubt that they would believe him (although it would seriously test their trustfulness of him). It would simply be an immensely despicable thing to do.
He had however told them of the row they'd had and had not underplayed his own idiocy.
Ricco had put his meaty arm around Link's shoulders consolingly. "Hey don't worry about it! You'll be in Hyrule city soon anyway. If she's the princess' confidant, maybe you'll meet her again. By then her temper will have cooled off and you'll be free to tell her how incredibly huge a jerk you are!"
"And then you'll live happily ever after." Marten supplied.
Link had laughed, albeit a bit subdued. Ricco's words were truer than he knew.
From the neighbour's table he heard a few bits of drunken conversation.
" 's real troubling. There's been another attack. In Bregg."
Link looked at his friends questioningly. Their expressions had immediately turned dark. "Have you heard of this?"
They nodded. "Aye, I did. You haven't?" Ric asked
He shook his head. "No! My head's full of steel, currently, and not much else." the smith-apprentice and swordsman explained. It was true enough.
"A traveller spread the news yesterday. Bokoblin attack in Bregg. Two homes burned down, many hurt. No one dead, miraculously…"
Link swallowed. Bregg was the closest village to the west, about 35 kilometres from here. Two days, as the Bokoblin runs…
Marten shifted uncomfortably. "It could still be a coincidence. Two random happenings cumulated, plus our straggler." he mumbled.
"It could." Link admitted. But all three had an ominous feeling. The all had grown up certain that the heartlands were safe like a castle. Now this fortress crumbled dangerously.
"I asked my father and my uncle. They never heard of an organized raiding group of Bokos in these lands. Ever." Ric rumbled concernedly.
"What are we doing to prepare for an attack? Did you ask your uncle that?" Link wanted to know.
The big lad nodded. "I did. Stammered something like 'surely it won't come to that'." He imitated and shook his head. "Maybe I should brush up on my sword skills anyway. I might not have the most technique, but I'm pretty sure that they don't either."
"The three of us should definitely prepare. I certainly won't cower with the mothers and children while the men defend the village." Link growled grimly.
"Aye." Ric and Mart agreed as one.
The blond boy looked around in the square. The normally exuberant evening atmosphere was replaced with a more sombre mood. People spoke in low voices, bent closer over the table, few laughing faces were seen. No one was idling on the streets, everyone walked quickly to wherever they were going. An ambiance of worry had settled over Ord.
Link suddenly remembered the distressing dream he'd had. While he did feel annoyed that a mere nightmare still troubled him, he couldn't help but sense a certain familiarity in the air.
The world darkened. Shadows got longer and more dangerous. Every feeling of joy and peace were strangled by a malevolent dread. Brother fought brother in a world were benevolence was nearly lost. Only they remained as the centre of all hope. Her…
"Liiinkyyy, are you still with us?" Ricco sang, waving his hand in front of Link's face.
He snapped out of whatever trance he had been. "What? What was I doing?" he asked, bemused.
"Staring brainlessly ahead. You know, nothing unusual, but still." Ric teased.
Link couldn't quite remember what he had thought about. It had been like he had looked through someone else's eyes for a minute.
"Sorry. My brain is currently full of steel, as I said." He muttered.
"Ah well. You just missed that Gerudo lady dance on the table, completely nude. She seemed to take your inattention rather personal." Ric confabulated innocently.
Link rolled his eyes. "Sure. But I'm certain a gentleman of your calibre offered her consolation in all possible ways, which she graciously declined. And then ran away quickly." He countered.
"Not out of the question." His large friend chuckled.
They all shared a good laugh but it felt slightly forced. The news of a second attack had hit pretty hard. But it also triggered something different in Link. He would be one of those that stood to fight these creatures. Others would rely on his ability to protect them and the whole village. Life had once again reminded him that there were greater things than winning a tournament.
Interestingly, while it did worry him, it did not make him afraid, he found. Rather it steeled his determination. He vowed to redouble his efforts to become strong, a shield to protect all that he cared for.