Chapter 8

Even when she saw the dim, waning sun over the parapet as she walked along the battlements, Princess Zelda was not altogether sure what time it was. She had no sense for such things at the moment, but equally, she was quite aware of their immediate destination and what she would say to the loathsome man when meeting him face-to-face.

She was surprisingly weary. Her mind, she realized, had been preoccupied with other matters today. And her mundane concerns—evanescent as the passing winds through the crests of the Dueling Peaks—had been chiefly forgotten about, consciously forced to the furthest corners of mind, and thought. But if she were entirely truthful to herself, she would have, in the end, allowed no further consideration to such matters. At least in part out of regard for what transpired earlier in the day. And there was a great deal for her to think about, underneath the silvery midwinter sky, and whatever might follow on a lonely evening in Akkala, where she had nobody but the ghosts of her past to share such thoughts with. Her life, Zelda wondered dismally, seemed to have become increasingly distressing again.

Her knight attendant's uncaring words had stirred her most bridled sentiments of the self. Feelings of doubt, of pity: those which she had not truly discerned since the time of her father in an age of uncertainty. She had once thought them to be largely conquered, a remnant of her younger years which she had cast off almost entirely. But here and now, in the face of the gravest future imaginable, with her gentle heart shrunken by loneliness . . . by abandonment, did things of this kind beget the evocation of past indignities. Everywhere she walked, encircled by towering walls of stone or the bleakness of the cold, wintry sky, evoked these memories.

Was there anywhere on the surface of Hyrule where she might go and not be brought back, staring into the importunate, self-revealing surface of a mirror into her past?

Before she could perceive an answer to this question, Zelda came upon a door at the bottom of a winding stairwell leading deep into the depths of the citadel. Behind her, Sir Toren, who had lingered not far behind, came to unlock it with a circlet of many ancient keys. With a twist, the door lurched open, and she found herself gazing into another sort of mirror, distorting and dark: lit by neither candlelight nor that of the declining sun—or else of anything, really—the encompassing shadow before her so vast and never-ending, she thought she had accidently wandered near the borders of the underworld.

It was bitterly cold in the dungeon when she stepped into it. The stones around them were damp and foul-smelling. When Sir Toren cut in front of her with his glowing torch, their pathway lit up to reveal a scattering mass of rats along the walls, dispersing into the many crevices and holes lining it; and as they approached the end of the hallway, she beheld a series of iron bars which served as a gateway into an antechamber. In front of her, bearing his flame and keys, Sir Toren, in his armour of plate and leathers, unlocked the wicket and opened it, revealing its inscrutable contents.

The knight bowed; she returned the gesture with a subtle nod of her head. The torch in his hand did not waver.

"Does the Princess wish for myself to accompany her?" he asked.

"I will go it alone," said Princess Zelda of Hyrule, sidestepping to look at him soberly. Her golden bangs were pinned back, as it should be, by her shimmering crown heralding her long-lasting ancestry. Elsewise, she was dressed modestly as before, on their holy day of prayer.

"As the Princess commands," Sir Toren said evenly. He remained just inside the doorway, bowed at the neck and trying his best to allow her to go further alone.

Zelda watched him raise his green eyes to meet her own, extending his arm out for her to take his torch. She took it and said, "Thank you, sir."

In a brief, swift second, a weak smile had formed on her expression. Her knight had not caught it. And yet, her smile made it clear she felt some measure of comfort from his presence. He was very handsome, although not similarly in the way Link was. He seemed strong, the dark hair framing the well-tanned skin of his face. His viridian eyes beneath a resolute brow, much like her own, were wide-set and determined, his mouth firm underneath a carefully-groomed, proper moustache, and in his voice, Zelda heard a note of strength which spoke eminently of his confidence and abilities. Indeed, she had heard much of his prowess, his many heroics stemming from his tenured services to her kingdom, and further abroad in the strife born of the would-be assassin. He had felled many monsters, hewing through even more Yiga men. Brave Sir Toren had earned his knighthood, and he wore the plate mail and sword she had bestowed upon him exquisitely, perhaps more than any other.

The shadows gathered around him. She said, without preamble, with his verdant eyes steady on her own, "I should not be long," and then turned to go further into the dark corridor.

Zelda was not conflicted by such a decision. She need not the protection of a sword, she determined, moving further along into the forgotten passageway. She was almost inclined to come here alone, to question her prisoner without the knowledge of others, but something in how he had asked, the sincerity of his plea, made her hold her peace. Whatever his intentions were, it was Sir Toren who had ultimately offered to escort her into this place, and not him.

And it was with this thought, following the reverberating sound of her own careful-footed progress through the winding corridor, further down another set of ancient, long-neglected stairs, Zelda understood where she stood amongst the sprouting order of her knights, and something she had not realized, became belatedly clear to her.

She stopped before another shut door. With a timid grace, she lifted her keys and inserted it into the aged lock. Ruined by time, it took some measure of strength to turn. There came a loud pop and the mechanism on the latch released; the door lurched open. Stepping into the chamber, she closed the door behind her, sealing herself off from the rest of the citadel. Along the walls, she could see candles in sconces waiting to be lit. She stepped up to them, touching her flame to their wicks. Seconds later, a subtle, flickering light swelled about the circular room. And at the centre of the chamber, there she saw a trapdoor of sorts. Zelda raised her torch, casting up a warm light to highlight the grille of iron bars. Her feet, guided by its orange hues, led her to look down into its depths.

She heard muddled sounds from within the grating; glimpsed a dim silhouette of a man underneath the pointed arch of her flame. The figure raised a feeble hand upwards to shield his eyes from its assailing light, made to be blind in the pitiless darkness of these forgotten dungeons. With an exasperated groan he looked upwards at her, and there, underneath her full sight, could she discern the man no better than as a vague shadow. His deep prison smelled of urine and excrement. She could hear rats in there too, and his frail form inspired little more than misplaced pity for an old man. Gone was his boisterous, bulbous appearance. He had been stripped of his clothing—of his preferred costume—granted merely a loincloth to shield his nudity for the comforts of nobody. His face was wrinkled by many years, his hair white, and stringy. He was made gaunt in appearance, an assured consequence of her lengthy campaign against him. Indeed, Master Kohga was no threat to she herself, at least not anymore.

"How are you finding your new accommodations?" then asked Princess Zelda, her rising voice infusing each syllable with an uncharacteristic malice. Her fingers, which had been laced in front of her, tensed accordingly as she stood awaiting his reply.

The old man laughed aloud. "Had I been so certain," he chuckled, curiously amused, "of your most generous hospitality, I would have elected to not be captured." His voice, while strained with fatigue, was imposing, and charged with a weighty power.

She had not expected that. She expected many things from him, but not laughter and a bizarre strength which seemed to transcend his decrepit form. His voice, echoing through the timeworn corridor, finally faded away as her slender, anxious fingers toiled with the ruby pendant above her breasts.

"Your fate remains the same," replied Zelda in her terse manner. She felt her brow furrow sharply. "That is, unless," she went on, "you confess your guilt in the scheming attempts on my life."

"I strongly object to those claims," said Master Kohga, his stern voice and ill-shapen form unwavering underneath her bright flame. "I know not of what you speak. If indeed I had a hand in this plot, I would have made it known. It has never been the way of the Yiga Clan to conceal our involvement in matters abroad. Especially those of the Hyrulean royal family."

"You besmirch yourself with these lies," Zelda said admonishingly. "I know how deep your treachery runs. This would not be the first time you have attempted to take my life behind the screen of cowardice." She was making an effort to keep her composure. She was not really looking at the old man, either. His grey, colourless eyes had unnerved her. And after the passing of a century, she truly had not been able to recognize him.

"I knew your father," Master Kohga went on reminiscently, as if clouded by memories of a distant age. "He was an able king; his tragic end was truly an unbefitting legacy of such an admired lineage. Even still, your slanderous accusations do little to remember the long-standing honour of the Yiga Clan, Princess of Hyrule."

"Spare me your half-hearted sentiments," Zelda replied coldly. "You lack for honour much as like your sincerity. I have not forgotten the many times your men have set themselves upon me. And it was Sir Link who rescued me from the clutches of your nefarious hands. If not for his sword, you would have succeeded in your pursuit of treachery."

Master Kohga's blank, unreadable eye sockets turned unerringly toward her then. She had met his gaze, finally, as he looked up at her with a strange smile forming in the corners of his dried, parched lips. "Ah, yes. Your most honourable knight. Tell me, where is Link now? I much desire to speak with him." His smile grew fiendishly wide. "As the chief adversary of my enemy, I believe we can potentially find an amicable relationship in the near future."

Zelda's golden brow raised. She knelt down to get a better look at the old man. "Master Kohga," she asked, addressing him carefully. "Who might this 'enemy' you speak of be?" She had permitted herself to address him with some amount of respect. He had such an ego, after all. He did not reply, however, rather looked up at her in his silent, unnerving manner. His evil smile never faded in that long moment of deathly stillness. "If you desire so much as to clear your name," she continued evenly, "then you must inform me the party of which you speak."

The Leader of the Yiga Clan was no longer smiling. "So, Princess Zelda of Hyrule . . . does this signify your decision to trust in my words?"

Zelda said nothing, keeping her face as impassive as she could. After a passing moment, she opened her mouth to speak, yet found her words difficult: "If you wish to believe that."

"Is it fear of the unknown which has frightened you?" Master Kohga asked probingly. "I can see it there on your young, beautiful face, Princess."

Something clenched inside her. "I am not afraid," she replied swiftly.

Zelda found herself recoiling backwards ever so slightly, looking down at the corpse of a man beneath her in the midst of growing shadows. Her flame had slowly begun to dwindle.

"How much power do you truly have?" he asked, keeping his voice at a level she identified to be wholly serious. "It would appear to me your young rule has been unsettled by this . . . mere attempt on your life."

Zelda flushed at his mockery. But even as his voice faded with the advent of her troubled thoughts, she had realized, plaintively so, there was indeed some level of truth to his words. If he had sought to unsettle her, his approach had been effective.

And unexpectedly—though she was unnerved by him, it seemed—the princess laughed. "Whatever do you mean? I believe you have misjudged my character, Master Kohga. Rather, you have, in your own convenience, overlooked it. I implore you to speak to me with some level of veracity, as one would to their own liege lord. Does your current status as my prisoner not tell of my absolute power over this land? Bringing the Yiga Clan and its master to heel, was but a fraction of Hyrule's veritable might."

Master Kohga had begun to pace about the room beneath her. Her stately tone might have spurred him to grow restless down there, as he turned this way and that, but then he stopped, and suddenly his grey eyes were steady on her own again.

In the diffusing torchlight, quietly, he said, "And what if I told you I had allowed myself to be captured." He had said it flatly; its tone made her know it was not to be a question.

Her expression, she felt, was becoming easy to read. He was playing a shrewd game. "I would call you a liar," Zelda then said quickly to keep him from seeing it; "and a conniver, if you really must know. Perhaps, it was I who misjudged you, after all. It would seem the Yiga Clan's master can merely conjure up petty schemes, and nought else. I will simply tell you this: it will not save you."

There was a short silence, then:

"I can see the fear in your eyes again." Master Kohga stood tall as he spoke. His voice even held a clear and present irritation, as if her words had pierced him. "Do you honestly believe yourself to have the upper hand? To have safety and security in this ancient, begotten land of old? There are far more terrible things lurking around in the darkness below. It is neither my place to protect you, nor is it to tell you this: your victory over the Demon King was cheaply bought, and your forthcoming carelessness will undo your youthful rule."

Zelda swallowed. His lengthy speech, while cruel, seemed almost sincere. Abruptly, she recalled something. "You speak again of a hidden threat. Tell me, what lies in the shadows? If indeed you know, then why hide it?"

The old man shrugged. "I know little of them . . . of their origin, their purpose even. But I have seen what they worship: a monstrous, repugnant evil from a bygone age. During my clan's exploration of the Depths, we had dug deep in search of ancient technologies. There, in the dark crevices of the underworld, we unearthed a buried passageway leading deeper still into the core of the earth. What horrors we found there! What evil! And yet you have laid claimant to my capture, marked it as one of the kingdom's finest accomplishments. Thusly know I have seen what you have not, and until you have borne witness to such a thing, you could never understand our truest purpose."

Feeling burdened by the increasing number of revelations, Zelda shook her head. "But you had allied yourself with Calamity Ganon . . . with the Demon King. There can be no greater evil than these blights upon our land. What you describe is simply unbelievable."

"You are failing to listen," murmured Master Kohga, his words bludgeoning her in the stillness of the distasteful air. "I feel as if I have wasted what little breath I still have left. And you have rushed to condemn me and my clansmen for something we have not done. Why should I aid you?"

Feeling angered, she quickly said, "The attempt on my life and that of my knight's was easily associated with you!"

Only seconds later did she realize she had inadvertently divulged an important piece of information. She glimpsed another eerie, mischievous smile stretching across the old man's face in the dim light. Her exasperated sigh signified this unexpected defeat in their battle of wits.

"How thoughtless of you." It was Master Kohga. "So, Link was a target in their attack? Or perhaps . . . he was merely in their way. Regardless, I believe I now understand."

"Understand what?" she asked.

Master Kohga hesitated. There was a danger there in his grin. His waxy face seemed to melt further into a crazed mien. "Oh, nothing. Forgive me, Princess. Over the years, I have adopted a bad habit of projecting my thoughts outward."

Zelda cleared her throat. It sounded harsh in the silence of the dungeon. "Evidently," she said. "Even so, you stand implicated in numerous crimes against the greater land of Hyrule and its sister realms. If you do not wish to cooperate further, your status will not change, and here you will remain. Is this what you desire?"

He continued smiling. "Cast off your pretence. It is clear you had already chosen my fate before we met here today. Do what you will."

Zelda had figured he would not comply with her demands. In a way, the old Sheikah man was right. She had been so quick to judge him guilty for crimes which had produced little evidence. Indeed, her dismantling of their organization had been long overdue, and yet her maltreatment of him was unbecoming of her righteous rule.

After a moment, Zelda turned slightly. Looking out the corner of her green eyes, she said, "I will send forth my men bearing provisions. You will be dressed accordingly, fed, and moved to another location in the citadel. It would be unwise to mistake this kind gesture for weakness."

Master Kohga nodded. His expression seemed to relax, then, as he looked up at her with a difficult, unreadable expression. He said nothing, however, and with his silence she understood her position to take her leave. In an abrupt turn, she took several steps without exchanging farewells.

And that silence was undone, she sooner realized, by some hastily spoken words rising up from the chamber below:

"You are your father's daughter, after all."

There was, it seemed to Zelda, a lifetime's worth of understanding in those few words. And she thought further about this, as her mind mulled over that half-muttered statement from a man of whom she knew only to be her enemy. It had been more than a hundred years since she had last seen him, and she could determine—with an unrivalled certainty—he had not changed one bit. She thought then about his perplexing warning to her, about an unknown force of wickedness rivalling that of unspeakable evils which had been vanquished from these lands. Could she truly trust him? A man, who she realized, had spent a life-age of the world dedicating his mind and willpower to dismantling her rule and kingdom. It was difficult for her to reach a satisfying decision. And when she walked through the narrow hallway of stone with her smouldering torch, she saw waiting for her in the shadowy distance her newest knight, Sir Toren, who hailed her with a gesture of his right hand.

"Your Highness," he greeted warmly.

Princess Zelda, stepping forward, handed her dwindling torch to him. "Deliver this message to the Captain of the Guard: Master Kohga will be dressed appropriately, fed thrice daily, and relocated to the guest holdings beneath the royal apartments. Two fully-anointed knights will keep watch over his quarters both day and night. Is this order understood?"

Walking along with her, Sir Toren said, "By your command, Princess."

She tilted her head slightly to one side, looking at him like that as they walked. "In the meantime, I will be retiring to my bedchambers for the remainder of the day. I have grown so very tired in these last few hours." Looking down at the dark steps as they traversed a winding staircase, she continued, saying, "Sir Link is currently preoccupied with some other business. You may stand guard over my own quarters for the time being."

"It would be my highest honour," Sir Toren said calmly.

She had been gazing at him as he said this. Yet he had continued staring forward, undeterred by such an appointment, and unbothered by the absence of her knight attendant. It was there, Zelda realized, looking forward as they stepped out into the midwinter evening to walk along the battlements again, she had chosen her second generation of knights wisely. Zelda sooner became aware her hands were clenched at her sides, as unbidden images of Link flashed briefly in her mind to steal her away from the moment. With a careful purpose, she forced herself to relax, as not to draw the unwanted attention of her knight who walked slightly behind her.

And what Master Kohga had said was true. She knew it, as a rising dismay permeated her mind to cloak her thoughts in self-doubt and uncertainty. Ever since her early years, her irresolution had always plagued her. It was happening again; and wherever she went without him, other feelings and dubious emotions compounded this ill-minded state she presently found herself in. It had happened too quickly; her thoughts had returned to earlier this morning. Zelda felt trapped on a pathway she could not easily escape from, and as the day turned further to night, and the sun winded down to reveal the waning crescent moon above a frozen, unfeeling land bordering an endless sea, she fell swiftly into grief.

No one spoke. In the rigid stillness of the hallway of the royal apartments . . . and further still inside her room after her knight courteously opened the door for her. The same door had closed shut without a word shared between the two, much like the year neared closer to its own end. With a careless toss, she had thrown her crown to the chair beside her bed. Her garments soon followed, and moments later she donned her sleepwear and shuttered the curtains along her high glass windows. She need not any light today, just the darkness for her comforts and to match her present state of mind. With a torpid abandonment, she collapsed onto the bed, her long legs extending well out over the end of it. The princess blinked her eyes a few times, emotionlessly so, gazing up at the shrouded ceiling above her. She sooner had half a mind to pour herself some wine. Perhaps, Zelda thought, she could drown the chaos playing out in her head with drink. But such musings went forgotten, as she regressed further into a woeful despair.

Some time later, with her pillows and sheets scattered along the bed, her emotions began to spill outward. She had done well to conceal them, but here alone and with nobody to witness her harrowing outburst, it came all at once.

Her mind, ever her enemy, kept returning to the night they made love. By now, it had felt like a lifetime ago, so far removed from her present state of being. She recalled his beautiful face, his most gentle voice which could lull her to sleep. She could feel the unbelievable feeling of his firm hands upon her breasts. And the unforgettable sensation of him loving her in his own tender way. All of it permeated the opened vaults of her memory now.

She had never registered the moment—there clutching her pillows tightly against her chest—when she crossed unknowingly from the waking world into a land of dreams, a place untroubled, where she once again held his hand and found his warm-hearted gaze to meet her own.