Calamity Ganon's prophesied arrival is near. Seventeen-year-old Link, serving as squire to his father, a Royal Guard, accompanies the Knights of Hyrule to the Korok Forest upon a rare invitation from the Great Deku Tree. His greatest hope is to witness the Goddess Hylia's chosen Hero of Hyrule draw the Master Sword from its resting place and embrace his destiny.
Author's note: This story takes place 100 years prior to the beginning of "Breath of the Wild." Rated K+, it contains no foul language or sexuality, and mild violence in the form of a monster battle. It generally fits into the canon of the game, though there may be small discrepancies from bonus materials. Link POV. Features Zelda, Link's father and mother, Mipha, Urbosa, Daruk and Revali.
Chapter 1
"I just love breathing dirt," Kester muttered, the words coming out ragged as he fought to catch his breath. "How 'bout you?"
Link looked at his friend sympathetically and didn't answer. He hardly needed to – they were both in the same miserable boat, and they were far from the only ones.
Kester fumbled in his pocket without breaking the pace of their double-march and eventually managed to extract a bandanna, which he wrapped around the lower half of his face in an attempt to filter out the dust now hanging thickly in the air.
"Sorry, Link," he added in an undertone, his elbow jostling Link's head repeatedly as he tied the bandanna tightly in a knot at the back of his head. Link, getting equally jostled by the squire on his right doing the same thing, didn't reply, but concentrated on trying to stay on his feet and neatly in rank while being bounced back and forth between two squires much taller than he was.
He wasn't the only one struggling. The three young men jogging in front of them had fallen out of unison for much the same reason, two of them quietly shoving away the one between them who was fumbling with his own bandanna. Someone in the row behind Link stumbled against him and hissed an apology barely audible over the sound of stomping feet.
Shoving wasn't allowed while in rank, of course, and neither was conversing. Link spared a nervous look in Captain Imbert's direction, although he could hardly see the gleam of the knight's armor through the bobbing heads in front of him. Assigned to keep the squires in line during the march, Imbert had no patience today for any shenanigans, whether intentional or accidental. Even a warning from him would mean a report to the knight in charge of that squire's training, and that would earn them a scolding or extra work once they reached camp.
Just then, Link caught sight of Kester's ration of bread starting to slip out of his pocket and quickly reached out and shoved it back in before it could hit the ground.
"Oh, thanks," Kester gasped, his voice slightly muffled by the bandanna. "That's all I need. Losing my lunch." There was a small outburst of audible laughter as the squires around them turned in Kester's direction, their grins hidden by their bandannas but evident in their mischievous eyes.
"Quiet back there!" Imbert's voice rang out sharply, and all the squires guiltily put their heads down and marched on in silence.
Thankfully, Link had already secured his own bandanna and was no longer choking on dust, although it still stung his eyes. He'd noticed the moment the wind had changed direction and had anticipated it would blow back the dirt kicked up by the mounted knights at the head of the procession. Here at the rear, where the squires were relegated, the dust was thickest. It was a shame, because Link had traveled this road before, and normally the scenery in this part of Hyrule Field was pleasant: Gently rolling green hills, clusters of trees, deep blue sky. He glanced over his shoulder, only to confirm his suspicion: where there should have been a wide view of Hyrule Castle's majestic spires slowly dwindling into the distance, there was only a cloud of dust.
Finally, the last of the squires got their bandannas in place and managed to get back in step. Imbert glanced back at them, gave a curt nod of approval, and turned forward once more, the red plume on his helmet fluttering. Link breathed a sigh of relief, and so did Kester next to him.
Normally a little disorder on a march might be overlooked. The more experienced knights were sometimes tolerant of, even amused by, the hijinks of the squires, especially the youngest ones; they remembered well what it was like to be on the cusp of manhood, finally allowed to share in the travel and the adventure they had dreamed of for so long.
But today was different. Today was no training run or routine patrol through peaceful lands. The presence of King Rhoam and Princess Zelda at the head of the procession alone ensured a tightening of discipline. More alarming was the increasing number of monster attacks on travelers, even in the vicinity of the castle and its numerous military outposts. It would be bold for monsters to attack a procession as large and well-armed as theirs, yet Link had sensed a nervous energy among the knights as they had prepared to leave. Even Father had seemed on edge, sharpening and resharpening not only his own richly ornamented royal broadsword, but also the much plainer soldier's broadsword that Link now carried sheathed on his belt.
And Father wasn't easily unnerved.
Maybe it was less about the danger, and more about their destination, Link thought as he marched, doing his best to push on despite his tired legs. A well-trained knight could face down a monster attack with stoicism, even relish a good honest fight. But to enter the Lost Woods – a mysterious forest shrouded in fog and populated, it was said, by strange wood-sprites who did not welcome intrusions by Hylians – well, that was something the sharpest sword in Hyrule could not fight against. It was rumored that those few travelers reckless enough to enter the woods would find themselves wandering among dark and twisted trees for hours or even days, and yet only ever find themselves back at the starting point, with nothing to show for their efforts. It was whispered that some never found their way out at all, that the strange forces of the forest transformed them into some kind of skeletal monster, forever doomed to haunt those woods, never to regain their former place in the world of the living.
Link felt a shiver move down his back despite the heat of the day. That was only a fireside tale, he reminded himself firmly. Reinold, the head of the Royal Guard, had said so this morning, having overheard some of the older squires trying to spook the younger ones with it.
"We are entering the Korok Forest, with the Royal Family, at the invitation of the Great Deku Tree," Reinold had said loudly, his gaze steady above his perfectly trimmed mustache as he met each of their eyes in turn. "Such invitations are rare, yes, and given only when the need is great. We will be permitted to pass in safety. The Master Sword must be bequeathed to the hero... whoever he turns out to be."
Reinold's speech had succeeded in turning the conversation toward the question of who would succeed in pulling the Master Sword from its resting place. It must be someone from the knightly bloodline, of course. Someone who had already proved himself to be among the most skilled of warriors. Someone pure of heart, worthy to carry the greatest of gifts that the Goddess Hylia bestowed upon mortals. And above all else, someone courageous enough to face Calamity Ganon, who was prophesied to rage upon the lands of Hyrule with horror and destruction... and soon, if the royal fortune teller was correct.
All the squires had ideas about who might be worthy to wield the Master Sword, but Link had not given his guess. He hesitated to speak it out loud, lest the other squires think it came from a place of pride. It wasn't pride, he told himself, but simply the truth.
Father. Privately, Link allowed himself to hope that it might be Father who would rise up as the hero of old to save Hyrule from its impending threat.
It wasn't only the pride of a squire for his knight, or a son for his father. Already Ranulf had proved himself an exceptional warrior even among the most highly trained knights of the kingdom, and had at last been rewarded with a place among the Royal Guard, where only the most skilled and steady knights were permitted to guard the safety of the Royal Family. Courageous, yes, it could not be doubted by anyone who had seen him fight. No heart was purer than Ranulf's. And was there any man in the army as dedicated as he in performing the proper prayers and rites for the Goddess Hylia at all the appointed times? Surely, if anyone could be trusted with the power of the Master Sword, it was Father.
Father himself would never say so, Link knew. He was quiet and humble, more apt to simply put down his head and work harder, rather than sing his own praises to the men around him. But that only made him more like the hero in the old stories. Link felt a warm glow in his chest, thinking of it. If it came true... well, it would feel good if everyone else saw Father as Link did.
Not everyone did, he knew. While Father could trace his roots back to the knightly bloodline, in recent generations his family had been mostly farmers, working the land and living humble lives in the Hateno region. It was Father who had gone against the expectations of his parents and grandparents, and left home as a young boy to train with a knight. Some in the army still saw him as a country boy, not a professional soldier to be taken seriously. Maybe that was why it had taken so long for him to come to Reinold's attention and earn his place among the Royal Guard. That had happened only a year ago.
Abruptly, Imbert's voice rang out from in front of the ranks of squires, breaking into Link's thoughts: "Company! Halt!"
Sighing with relief, the squires broke out of their double-march and came to a stop. Link was as relieved as the rest of them. At last, they would be able to catch their breath. Still, he was surprised they were permitted to halt and not merely slow the cadence for a short rest. Reinold had warned them they would be pressed hard today due to the need to arrive at camp several hours before sunset.
The squires took advantage of the halt to take off their bandannas to wipe the sweat from their foreheads, and gulp warm water from their canteens. After a few minutes, though, they started to shift from one foot to the other, looking around curiously and speculating with each other about the reason for the halt. Imbert was no longer watching them; he had trotted off to the head of the procession, probably to find out what was happening.
Slowly the dust settled, and now Link could properly see the rows upon rows of knights who had been marching in front of them all this time. The metallic gleam of their armor was muted by a coat of dust, but the red plumes on their helmets still stood out bright in the sunlight. The ranks of identical blue uniforms and silvery armor plates, topped with identical white and blue tunics bearing the royal crest, looked much more impressive to Link's eyes than the gaggle of squires, who all wore the same basic Hylian style of tunic and trousers but in a variety of colors, as they were not formally part of the army but merely in training to become such. His friend Kester wore a navy blue tunic with a red obi sash, while Link's tunic was red with forest green trim. Squires weren't issued metal armor, but they had leather vambraces and a pauldron for their left shoulders, and they all had matching soldier's shields, bows and a quiver strapped to their backs. On a day like today, Link was glad not to be carrying the weight of metal armor on such a long hard march, but the men in front of them were accustomed to it and did not look any more tired than the squires did.
Suddenly Link felt his heart beating a little faster. It might not be long before he, too, would grow accustomed to the weight of real armor. Only yesterday, Father had approached Reinold to ask if he would be willing to administer the test of knighthood to Link, and the head of the Royal Guard had agreed. The announcement of today's march had pushed back the test until after their return to the castle, and Link still didn't know whether to be disappointed or grateful for the delay. After so many years of training, he was anxious to prove himself, and he was old enough; his birthday had come two months ago and he was now officially of age. More importantly, Father insisted he was ready.
But if he failed...
None of the squires knew exactly what the test entailed. The commanding officer of any troop should already be familiar with the capabilities of those knights' squires that fell under his umbrella of responsibility: their skill with a blade, bow and shield; their horsemanship; their character. But any young man wishing to be knighted was taken down into the dungeons of Hyrule Castle for the administration of the test, and only full knights were permitted to observe. None of them would ever give even a hint to the squires regarding what happened down there. Not that this ever stopped the young men from trying to wheedle information out of them.
Not every squire succeeded on his first attempt. He could then redouble training and try again later. But no one ever set out to take the test thinking they would fail, which made any failure all the more humbling.
The test must be something difficult. Something more than merely sparring with a partner or firing arrows at a target. Link couldn't imagine what it was, and that made it difficult to think how to prepare for it.
But, as Father always said, the best knights excelled even when thrown into situations for which they were unprepared. Maybe that was part of the test. To feel the fear of the unknown and face it down anyway.
Pushing back a surge of nervous anticipation, Link went up on his tiptoes to see past the knights and caught sight of the Royal Guard on horseback at the head of the procession. There were six of them selected for this mission. They were dressed, not in the uniform of red shirt, velvety blue tunic and tall white boots that they typically wore on duty in the castle, but in their field uniforms: metal armor similar to that of the ordinary knights, only with a red uniform underneath and a purple plume on their helmets. From this distance and seeing only their backs, it was hard to tell which was Father, but Link was able to pick him out by recognizing his horse, Heriot. Link himself had been the one to braid Heriot's tail and mane and he took pride in being able to create a distinctive look.
Just in front of Father, King Rhoam sat on his own enormous mount, easily the largest horse Link had ever seen, standing head and shoulders over the others. But then again, King Rhoam was a large and imposing man, both tall and broad-shouldered, with a snowy white beard that reached his chest. Today he was dressed in a rich blue robe with gold embroidery over a white uniform, and he carried a massive royal claymore strapped to his back. The claymore in its beautifully embellished scabbard wasn't only there to make an impression, Link knew; Father had seen the king sparring with Reinold and a few hand-picked guards, and had reported that he was quite good with it.
The princess sat beside her father, effectively dwarfed by him despite being perched sidesaddle on her own mount, a sturdy white horse with an intricately braided and be-ribboned yellow mane. Link had never seen Princess Zelda up close, but from here he could see that she was slender, dressed in a stiff ankle-length blue gown, with long golden hair that cascaded all the way down her back.
Princess Zelda's presence in the procession made Link uneasy for reasons he couldn't fully explain. Was it that he feared for her safety? While it was true she was the only person here not trained to defend herself with the sword, she was also surrounded by the best protection the kingdom had to offer, not least of all Father himself, sitting on his horse only a short distance from her.
And maybe she wasn't defenseless in her own right, anyway. Like her mother before her, she was said to be heir to the powers of the goddess herself, once she had learned to unlock them. Link knew little of these things, but from what he'd heard, Zelda and her powers would be needed to defeat the coming Calamity just as surely as the as-yet-nameless hero with the Master Sword in his hand.
Maybe that was why he was uneasy. Zelda was irreplaceable; there was no one else in the kingdom who could carry out her role if something happened to her.
Who was it King Rhoam and Princess Zelda were speaking to? It must be someone important, to hold up a mission of such import. Giving in to his curiosity, Link abandoned all pretense of dignity and hopped up and down several times, trying to see over everyone's heads, but he was just too short.
"Link, stop. Stop," his friend Kester said, putting a hand on his shoulder with mock seriousness. "You're going to hurt yourself." He cleared his throat importantly. "Let me do it."
Kester then proceeded to hop up and down, craning his long neck to see, somehow managing to look even more ridiculous doing it than Link had felt. Despite coming of age a year before Link, Kester had still not outgrown that odd, gangly, too-much-arm-and-leg look that many of the younger squires had. He had plenty of strength and experience, though. Just not much grace. It was why Kester had flatly refused to take the test of knighthood even though the royal guardsman training him, Bartelmeu, had been pressing him to take the plunge already. "Another year," Kester always insisted. "Another year, and then I won't look like a joke anymore, always falling over my own feet."
Despite the self-deprecation, Kester was good-natured about it. The truth was, being one of the most experienced squires as well as the most approachable one, all the younger boys looked up to him and came to him with the questions they were too embarrassed to ask the knights who were training them. Even if he wasn't a knight yet, Kester was often trusted to do important work beyond that of serving as an assistant and student to Bartelmeu. He'd even been decent enough not to look threatened when he heard that Link's test of knighthood was now being arranged. He was a good friend, and Link felt a jolt as he realized that he might not see much of Kester anymore if he was knighted and placed in another unit.
Finally, Kester stopped hopping and looked down at Link with a flash of triumph in his eyes.
"Saw who was holding up the procession," he said.
Link waited, but Kester just stood there and looked at him with a straight face.
"Who is it?" Link finally prompted him.
"I don't think you really want to know."
Link paused. "Yes, I do."
The other squires were looking at them curiously, just as anxious as Link to know what was going on.
"You don't seem that interested," Kester said, idly polishing the dust off his scabbard with an equally dusty bandanna.
Link sighed heavily, and crossed his arms against his chest.
"Oh come on!" one of the other boys burst out, grabbing Kester eagerly by the arm. "Just tell us!"
"Only if I get some help with the chores once we get to camp," Kester said, a crafty gleam in his eyes.
"We'll do it, fine, just tell us!" another boy shouted, and was quickly shushed by the other squires. Imbert might not be breathing down their necks at the moment, but if they made too much noise he'd be back in a flash.
"It's Daruk," Kester said proudly.
Some of the squires knew enough to be impressed at the name, but most of the younger ones looked blank.
"Who?" they demanded in a chorus.
"Who is Daruk?" Kester repeated, putting on a show of incredulity. "Only one of the best warriors to ever come out of Goron City! Don't let him fool you. Oh, he may seem calm as a summer's day on the outside, but put him into battle, and look out! Fierce doesn't begin to describe it. Once he sees those monsters coming, he's like an erupting volcano! Bam! Bam! FWOOSH!" He pantomimed swinging an enormous boulder breaker and the boys around him immediately caught on to the act, pretending to flop around and crash into each other as if struck by the greatest warrior to ever come out of Goron City.
Wide-eyed, the younger squires promptly began their own hopping routine, trying to catch a glimpse of Daruk over the heads of the knights in front of them. Link felt a smile tugging at his lips. He'd already been lucky enough to meet Daruk while accompanying his father on several journeys to the land of the Gorons over the last few years. Kester hadn't been exaggerating; the warrior really was everything he said. An older Goron but still in his strength, Daruk was steady and supremely self-confident, yet a force to be reckoned with when his protective instincts flared up. Link had once seen him clear out a sizable monster camp below Gortram Cliff singlehandedly when he got too impatient to wait for the Hylian force that was rushing over to help him.
He hadn't taken so much as a scratch.
"I wonder..." Kester said more softly to Link, as the others were distracted craning their necks to see Daruk. "Do you think Daruk was the one chosen by the princess?"
Link knew immediately what he meant. Word had spread around that Princess Zelda herself had personally chosen a representative from each of the races of Hyrule to battle against Calamity Ganon by piloting one of the grand Divine Beasts created by the ancient Sheikah tribe and recently restored to functionality. It was a great honor, one that would ensure these champions' names would go down in history for their bravery and service to the people of Hyrule.
Already, Urbosa of the Gerudo and Revali of the Rito had arrived at Hyrule Castle to begin training to pilot the Divine Beasts. But Princess Zelda had only recently returned from a journey to the Zora and to the Gorons, and no announcement had yet been made on who their champions would be.
Daruk would be a good choice, from everything Link knew. His strength was a match even for Urbosa's legendary prowess with the scimitar. Link didn't know much about Revali, but supposed he must be something special to be chosen from among the great archers of the Rito.
Who had been chosen to represent the Zora? Link wondered. There were many fine warriors in the Domain: Trello, Muzu, Seggin. He knew them all well; before his placement in the Royal Guard, Father's old unit had been sent to Zora's Domain more frequently than any other region of Hyrule. Link had spent long hours of his childhood among the aquatic race, learning to swim and dive and fish alongside Sidon, the young prince of King Dorephan. The number of times they had gotten into trouble together...
Suddenly Link grinned. Sidon would think it great fun to pilot a Divine Beast, but he was too young to be chosen for such a heady task. His older sister Mipha was far more sensible, though she lacked a warrior's temperament. She was petite and gentle, and so soft-spoken that she often had to be asked to repeat herself; and while she was skilled in wielding her trident, her people loved her most for her compassion, her diplomacy and tact, and her gifts of healing. Link himself had been the recipient of her aid more times than he cared to remember; he blushed even now, thinking of the number of scrapes he had gotten into with Sidon that had ended with one or both of them nursing cuts, bruises, or broken bones. King Dorephan had always chuckled jovially at their reckless escapades, though Mipha's looks of tender concern and quiet reproach afterwards had cut much deeper than any royal lecture could have.
"Form rank, lads, form rank!" a stern shout came from almost right in front of him, and Link jumped guiltily as he realized that while he was lost in a reverie, thinking of Mipha, Imbert had returned from the head of the procession and was looking at the squires' disorder with obvious disapproval. The knights ahead of them were already back in rank and casting impatient looks back at the squires, ready to resume their march. Link scrambled to find his place alongside several dozen other scrambling young men, and in short order they were once more lined up and ready to go.
They had hardly started marching again when something tore past them, heading the opposite direction. At first glance it looked like a huge rolling boulder, but then there was a glimpse of a thick chain slung around it, securing an enormous boulder breaker, and then flashes of a great tuft of spiky white hair. It was Daruk, rolling with all speed toward the castle. He really must be the Goron champion, then, heading southwest to join the others! Link felt his heart leap inside his chest, and found that he didn't mind at all about the massive cloud of dust kicked up by Daruk's passage. If only he could be there when all the Champions at last were gathered! It would be an unforgettable sight. The kind of story you could tell to everyone you met for the rest of your life, and watch their eyes light up in awe.
If Father was the one chosen by the goddess to wield the Master Sword, maybe Link would be there to see it.
Buoyed up by these sunlit thoughts, Link hardly noticed the next several miles of the road slipping past, despite the heat and the dust.
At long last – after only a brief halt to eat the ration of bread they carried in their pockets – they took the fork in the road that took them on the final approach to the Military Training Camp. A long column of smoke was visible just ahead, denoting the location of the Woodland Stable. Link heard Kester heave a disappointed sigh as they marched past it without stopping. Kester loved staying at stables; the beds were always more comfortable than what they got in any barracks, not to mention the fun of sitting around the campfire swapping news with the various travelers and merchants who were passing through. But there would be no time for that today.
The camp was less than a mile away now. It was a good thing, because everyone's patience seemed to be running short. Over the last few hours, some of the squires had tried to hold whispered conversations with each other to help pass the time, and Imbert kept catching them at it and snapping at them to be quiet. Finally they all seemed to realize it was best to humor him, and now they marched in quiet, if somewhat sullen, obedience.
That was when Link saw it.
A tall green stalk, rising above the grass growing at the side of the road. Topped with a round yellowish flower bud. The perfect size – not so large as to be weedy and bitter, not so small as to be flavorless.
Hyrule herb.
Link couldn't contain the spike of triumph that shot through his veins at the sight, and a grin spread across his face. Finally! The plant didn't do well in the worst heat of the summer, and this had been an unusually dry, hot one. The usually prolific herb had become difficult to find the last few months. Link had certainly spent plenty of time looking, only to find disappointment. And so many meals just weren't the same without it. That faintly tart, refreshing spike of flavor that could elevate the whole dish into something truly special...
Link squinted his eyes, judging the distance to that beautiful green stalk, and then his eyes darted over to Imbert's stiff back as he marched in front of them.
Asking permission would be useless. Link knew that. Even on the best of days Imbert wouldn't understand the importance of a detour for something like this. Maybe if he were quick...
His eyes flicked back and forth between Imbert and the Hyrule herb. He could make it. He could. He was quick, and he was quiet. By now Imbert's mind was probably already on the approach of camp and everything he would need to do when they arrived. He hadn't glanced back at the squires for some time now. Link took in a breath and tensed his muscles. It was now or never. He-
Kester nudged Link with a sharp elbow, who turned to see an expression of mild alarm on his friend's face.
"Don't you dare," he mouthed to Link.
He knew. He knew exactly how Link's mind worked, and exactly what his face looked like when he saw a particular food he'd been hankering for.
Link gestured wordlessly at the herb as if to say: Do you know how long I've been looking for that?
Kester knew perfectly well. He shook his head vehemently and mouthed "Not worth it."
Link gave him a skeptical grimace.
"He's already annoyed!" Kester mouthed, and this time the words were a barely audible hiss.
But it was too late. Link leaped to the side, quick as a rabbit, and in seconds he was stooping down to snap off the stalk at the base. Another few seconds, and he had leapt back into place, smoothly folding the herb into thirds and tucking it out of sight into one of the pouches at his belt.
Imbert's back was still turned. He hadn't seen a thing. Link allowed himself one look of sly triumph in Kester's direction.
Kester pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in weary resignation. A few of the other squires near them were snickering, but very, very quietly. It was not the first time they had seen Link do something like this. And he nearly always got away with it, too.
For a moment, Link felt a little bad about that. He should probably set a better example for the others. If he was to be knighted soon, he really would have to give up every last trace of poor discipline.
But was it wrong to resist giving up this small reminder of his mother? He barely ever saw her anymore as it was, even though the ranch was only a few hours' ride from the castle. Link felt a pulse of sadness, and carefully fastened the pouch shut so he wouldn't lose the precious herb.
After just a short time, the road turned left and went up through a cluster of trees, and the men visibly perked up. In their eagerness, their pace actually quickened even as they crested the long steep hill, and finally, they had reached their destination: the Military Training Camp.
The hilly terrain was dotted with several barracks and supplemented by a handful of tents. Behind them there were several towers visible, built primarily to provide practice for knights training to assault monster camps. Further northeast, a stable and a well-maintained grassy pen provided a place to care for their horses. Multiple cookfires dotted the area, and Link was pleased to see that there were camp workers already swinging large pots into place over the flames, preparing a meal for the hungry travelers. His stomach growled just thinking about it, although he knew there would be a pile of chores to complete before that could happen.
As a backdrop, the Lost Woods loomed over the camp, a peninsula that looked more like a large island, as it was surrounded almost entirely by the narrow encircling arms of Lake Mekar. Unlike the cheerful dappled shade of the Minshi Woods to the east of the camp, the Lost Woods looked dark and foreboding. Link shrugged a shoulder and looked away pointedly. He would face it when the time came. Until then, there was no point in worrying.
"Company, halt!" Imbert shouted, echoing the captain at the front of the knights' ranks who had just given the same order. "Company, dismissed!"
With a burst of chatter, the squires scattered, each headed toward the knight he was assigned to train under. Link made his way to the front of the procession, where Father and the rest of the Royal Guard were dismounting. The king and princess were riding a little further on to the command center, accompanied by Reinold, the head of the Royal Guard.
Father swung off Heriot with a clink of armor, and turned to hand the reins to Link standing silently by his elbow.
"How was the march?" he asked Link, looking him over and then smiling slightly. He reached over with a gloved hand and vigorously brushed off Link's shoulder, sending a cloud of dust slowly filtering down to the ground. "Dusty, I see." Link nodded.
Father smiled a little deeper, and took off his helmet, revealing light brown hair that was sweaty and mussed. He wasn't dirty, though. That was the benefit of riding in front. "Well, make sure you get cleaned up as best as you can," Father continued. "Tonight we'll tread on sacred ground. Everyone must look their best."
"Yes, Father."
"Good." He gestured toward the barracks nearest the command center. "Meet me there when you're through caring for the horses."
Horses, in the plural. He hadn't asked if Link and Kester were sticking with their usual agreement, but it was a good guess, because just at that moment Bartelmeu handed Kester the reins to his own horse, Hugon, and Kester promptly turned and handed them to Link.
"Do a good job," he said lightly. "I'll start on Ranulf's armor for you."
"Thanks," Link said, and began leading both horses toward the stable. It took a lot of trust for squires to swap duties like this; if any work was done poorly, a squire was still responsible for it, and complaints that your friend had let you down would not be accepted. But Kester was meticulous when working with armor, and they both knew Link was better with the horses. It was a good trade.
Bartelmeu and Father headed for the barracks, Kester trailing in their wake. By the time Link made it to the stables, there were already four other squires there, busily removing saddles from horses, shaking out blankets and fetching buckets of water. There were two stalls still open, but Link ignored them and walked both horses straight through the stable and out into the pen. The horses hadn't been worked overly hard on the last leg of the journey, but it was always best to walk them a bit to let them cool down before dealing with the gear.
Link led Heriot and Hugon on several slow circuits of the grassy pen before he was joined by someone else: a tall lanky man - probably the camp's stablemaster - leading King Rhoam's enormous horse and Princess Zelda's white mount. He, too, led his pair of horses around in a slow walk, giving Link a silent nod of approval for his diligence.
When the horses seemed ready, Link led them back into the stable and tied them securely. Hugon stood patiently while Link took off his gear, brushed him down and checked his hooves. By the time he was done with that, the other squires had finished their work and left the stable, their horses contentedly munching on feed. Suddenly the stable was much quieter. Only the stablemaster remained, grooming the royal horses in focused silence.
Link turned to begin Heriot's care. Almost immediately, the bay horse began acting up, tossing his head indignantly as Link went to remove the saddle. That was no surprise. Heriot was a fine horse, one of the best Lon Lon Ranch had to offer, and he had the high spirits to match. After a day of simple riding at a pace slow enough not to outstrip the men on foot, Link had known Heriot would be annoyed at not being given more to do.
He spoke to the horse in low, soothing tones, stroking his neck gently and avoiding any sudden movements. It took a lot of patience, but eventually Heriot settled down enough that he could begin work.
Link didn't rush, but moved from one task to the next with a calm, deliberate air, pausing to soothe whenever he could see a hint of wildness gleaming in Heriot's eye. The next stall over, the stablemaster was having much the same difficulty with Zelda's horse, and he was dealing with it in the same unruffled way.
At last, with Heriot groomed, quieted and his nose buried in feed, Link straightened his back and blew out a long sigh. Then he set to work cleaning the saddle and hanging up the pad to dry. The stablemaster was polishing the saddle for Zelda's horse, and Link could not resist casting long curious looks at it as he worked. It was the most beautiful saddle he had ever seen, made of the finest materials and ornamented with chains of purple and gold royal crests.
The stablemaster saw him looking and smiled in a friendly way. "You have quite the touch with horses," he said. "Most squires don't take such care. Who taught you to handle them?"
"I grew up on Lon Lon Ranch."
"Really?" The stablemaster looked sufficiently impressed; anyone who worked with horses knew of the ranch's reputation. "One of your parents is a trainer there?"
Link shook his head. "When Father was knighted, he went there to get his first proper horse. My mother worked there, cooking meals for the ranch hands."
The stablemaster nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose he instantly fell in love... with her cooking?" He gave Link a teasing grin, and Link smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"And I suppose it was more fun for a little lad to be out helping the trainers with the horses than stuck in a hot kitchen with his mother, peeling vegetables?" the stablemaster said knowingly.
"I did that too." Link had never understood the dread the other boys on the ranch had of being assigned kitchen duty. He had countless fond memories of perching on a stool in the sunniest corner of the kitchen, watching Mother work her magic in turning dirty heaps of vegetables, plain dry rice and hunks of raw meat into something so delicious you wanted to cry when you tasted it. She had always seemed more of an artist than a mere cook in Link's eyes. More than once, visitors to the ranch who enjoyed her meals had promptly tried to wheedle her into coming to work for them instead. But Mother loved it at the ranch, and it was close enough to the castle that Father could stop at home often, coming and going from his assignments. "But yes: I've been riding horses since before I can remember."
The stablemaster nodded. "What's your name, lad?" he asked.
"Link."
The man hung up the princess's saddle, now polished to a high shine. "Well, Link, I don't tell just anyone this, but if you hop the fence of that pen out there and go down into a little hidden hollow to the northeast, you'll find a couple of wild apple trees growing down there. If you want to get a treat for your high-spirited friend there." He nodded his head in Heriot's direction. "And for yourself," he added with a grin.
Link grinned back. "Thanks!"
He quickly hung up Heriot's saddle and went back out into the sunshine, and a few minutes later he had found just the spot. There weren't any ripe apples within reach from the ground, but Link easily shimmied up the trunk and found himself a couple of choice ones for Heriot and Hugon. Then, without a trace of guilt, because he'd been invited, he stuffed the apples into his pockets and picked out a third one for himself. He settled into a comfortable fork in the branches, took a big bite, and closed his eyes in bliss. Sweet and juicy. Perfection.
He stayed there a few minutes while he ate, enjoying the faintly cool breeze up here that ruffled his blonde hair. In the distance he heard a faint whinny, but not from the direction of the camp's stable. He frowned, and skewed himself around in the tree until he spotted its source. There was a handful of wild horses in another small hollow of the land that hadn't been visible from the camp, only from his elevated position here. Most of them were pintos, but there was a pretty chestnut horse that pranced about more vigorously that the others, shaking its mane as if to show off. Link smiled, and then sighed. He'd better not linger. There was still more work to do.
After a quick stop at the stable to give the horses their treats, Link trotted off to the barracks, passing several cookfires on the way. One had a large cauldron bubbling with white froth, probably containing rice. Even better, other fires had been outfitted with large spits holding generously sized chunks of meat, being slowly turned by cooks. Link sniffed the air and decided it was wild boar meat. The scent was intoxicating. That apple had tasted good, but it hadn't come close to filling up the yawning gulf in his middle. He hoped dinner was soon.
Outside the barracks, Father was relaxing and chatting with Bartelmeu and the other four Royal Guards outside, all of them wearing their red uniforms with the armor removed. Link nodded to Father before stepping inside the barracks. Kester wasn't there anymore, but a quick look verified that his friend had done a proper job cleaning Father's armor and gear and storing it. He took off his own shield, bow and sword and put them away neatly, as they had been instructed to bring no weapons into the Korok Forest. Then he went back outside and stood near Father, waiting patiently for instructions with his hands clasped behind his back.
"The others went down to the lake shore," Father told him when there was a lull in the conversation. "Get yourself cleaned up. I'll have something for you to do afterward."
Link nodded crisply and didn't wait to be told twice. The dust had apparently worked its way under his clothing, because his skin was starting to itch. He ran down to the west end of camp and found a lake shore heaped with a jumble of tunics, trousers, belts and boots. The other squires were stripped down to their underthings and making a joyous noise of splashing and shouting as they swam and wrestled in the shallow waters near the camp.
It was tempting to throw off his own clothing and jump right in, but Link knew from experience that it was better to clean his clothes first and then bathe. Otherwise you'd get all clean and wet, start handling your dusty clothing, and end up muddy after all. So first he patiently shook out as much dust from his clothing as possible, and then grabbed one of the clothing brushes lying around and got the job done properly. He draped the tunic and trousers over a bush to keep them off the ground, and then – finally – waded into the water.
It felt every bit as wonderful as he hoped it would. The water was cool and refreshing, and Link eagerly dunked his whole head under the water and scrubbed first his face and then his scalp. Belatedly he realized he should have loosened his hair first, so he painfully pulled the blue cord out from the tangled strands of his hair and put it around his wrist so he wouldn't lose it. Then he went back under and scrubbed hard. Much better. Maybe now his hair would look blonde and not the color of dust.
He had hardly popped his head back above the surface when he was nearly swamped by a wave. One of the younger squires near him hooted with laughter and splashed him again in a clear challenge.
Link debated between splashing back in good humor or scolding him for his audacity – the boy really was too young to be so bold with an older squire, according to the unwritten rules of squiredom – and decided he wasn't in the mood for either. What he wanted was a little peace and quiet while he could get it. So he turned and swam with long, strong strokes further away from camp, and soon he was past the splash fest and swimming parallel to a shoreline of steep grassy hillocks, keeping well away from the fog-shrouded opposite shore.
Once he was far enough away that the shouts were less distracting, Link turned toward the shore and lifted himself out of the water, carefully scrambling over the narrow strip of mud where the water lapped and onto the thick green grass. That felt good too, nice cool grass underneath him, while the soft breeze cooled his damp skin. Link leaned back against one of the steep hillocks and settled in comfortably, gazing up at the deep blue sky as water trickled down the back of his neck. Far above, a flock of birds flapped past. He could hear the subtle splashes of fish rising up to nibble at bits of algae floating in the lake. Almost, he could imagine that he was in Zora's Domain, resting after a day of diving and fishing with Sidon. The young princeling had a tendency to play so hard that he would fall asleep in the shallows the moment they came back to land to "give Link a rest"... and the fact of the matter was, he usually snored, a fact that Sidon would stoutly deny anytime someone tried to bring it up. Link smiled, quietly vowing that he would not let himself fall asleep now, although it was a temptation, as it was peaceful and pleasant here and no one was around to witness any snoring.
And then he heard a voice. A girl's voice.
Link sat bolt upright on the hillside, eyes going wide. Here he was, dressed in nothing but his underthings... what was a girl doing out here? Nervously, he looked around, but didn't see anyone. Even the squires were out of his sight, although he could still hear their shouts in the distance. Had he imagined it? Or worse, was he hearing ghostly voices from the opposite shore, where the Lost Woods' unnatural fog was rolling and shifting in hypnotic patterns?
Then he heard a soft giggle. Definitely a feminine one. "Well, you are a squirmy thing, aren't you?" the voice said. "You must hold still, or how shall I ever get a sketch?"
Link's eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. The voice seemed to be coming from behind him. Cautiously, he got on his hands and knees and crept forward slowly, skirting the hillock, until a flash of color came into view. Link sank down low to the ground, bare belly tickled by grass, and stared in astonishment.
It was a girl, one about his own age, dressed in feminine trousers and a blue shirt. She was sitting on the ground with her legs curled up under her, clutching something in both hands and peering through her fingers at it.
"Don't you know how special you are?" she asked the thing in her hands, whatever it was. "How rare?" Her voice was high, with every word carefully enunciated. "Dinah will be very pleased indeed when she sees that I've found you at last. Do you know, we were starting to get worried that you may have gone extinct!" She laughed lightly, a gleam of satisfaction in her green eyes. She had blonde hair like Link's, only brighter, and it was pulled back into a loose knot at the back of her neck.
Who could she be? Link wondered blankly. There were women who worked in the Military Training Camp as cooks or scribes, but usually they were the older matronly types. Most of them were wives to men in the army. This girl was too young to be anyone's wife.
He should have backed away quietly and swam back to where the other squires were. But Link's curiosity overcame his good sense. What was she holding in her hands? He had to know.
The girl shifted position slightly, drawing up her knees, and then laid her cupped hands on top of one kneecap. Carefully, she pulled her right hand free and then used her left to pin the thing, whatever it was, against her knee.
The thing poked its nose out between her fingers, but it seemed to be securely captured, and the girl breathed an audible sigh of relief.
It was a lizard. But it didn't look like any lizard Link had ever seen before. About the size and shape of a hightail lizard, it was bright blue instead of rusty red. It had yellow eyes and a frilly white crest on its head.
"There, that's better, isn't it?" the girl said, looking at it with satisfaction. She groped in the grass with her free hand and came up with a notebook and a pen. "Now, hold still while I take some notes. We must make certain our scientists can identify you easily."
She fell silent for several minutes, scratching away with a pen, her green eyes flicking back and forth between paper and creature. Her focus was intense, as if there was nothing else in the world but her and the strange blue lizard. Realizing he was intruding on someone's work, Link began to creep backwards to leave.
Just then, a man's voice rang out from nearby. "Princess? Your father requests your presence."
Link froze.
"Oh, bother," the girl muttered, lifting up her gaze, her focus broken. She looked around herself distractedly, as if unsure what to do, and finally settled on carefully shifting the lizard into both of her hands once more, and then shoving the creature into a leather pouch at her belt.
"Princess?" the man called again.
"Coming!" the girl called hastily, fastening the pouch securely shut and scrambling to her feet, stuffing her notebook into the waistband of her trousers and then stooping to pick up a bundle of cloth at her feet that Link hadn't noticed before. She shook it out, revealing it to be the long stiff blue and gold gown Princess Zelda had been wearing on the journey. Quickly she shoved both arms into the loose sleeves and fastened the front, button by button, all the way down to the hem. It took a while for her to do it, but at last the trousers and shirt were fully hidden.
"Bother," she muttered again, straightening up and brushing grass off her skirt. In a few quick strides, she had climbed the hill behind her and disappeared from sight, releasing her long golden hair from its loose bun as she went.
Link lay flat on the grass, all alone, completely stunned.
So that was what the princess was like? Of all the rumors he had heard about her, there had never been one like this. This princess would be more at home in a lab with the researchers of the Sheikah tribe than any throne room. Why did no one ever mention it? They were always talking about her latest devotions to the goddess, or her embassies to the royal families of the other races of Hyrule, or her presence at a variety of official royal functions. No one had ever said she knew something of science.
For that matter, no one ever really talked about her age. Somehow Link had gotten the idea that she was older than him. But she didn't even look like she was of age yet.
Abruptly, he realized he could no longer hear the squires splashing. Link scrambled barefoot to the water's edge and saw that all the young men were on the shore getting dressed. Dinner must have been announced, and he hadn't heard. He dove into the water and swam with quick strokes to where he had left his clothing. No time to get properly dry. He pulled his clothing over his damp skin with a little difficulty. By the time he was dressed, the last of the other squires had already disappeared into camp. He took time only to finger-comb his wet hair and pull it back with the blue cord once more, and then headed for the chow line closest to Father's barracks.
He had a suspicion that the Royal Guard would be given a meal a little nicer than what the other knights would get, thanks to the presence of the Royal Family who could not be served just anything, and he was right. The cook put a big scoop of rice in a bowl for Father and then added a ladleful of chunky stew. It looked like tender slow-cooked meat, with slices of carrots and chunks of pumpkin for variety. As soon as he was out of the cook's sight, Link surreptitiously put a finger into the sauce and tasted it. Yes, it was good. Very good. Definitely a bit of a punch from imported Goron spices. Not enough to make it truly spicy, but enough to give it some warmth and interest. Link carried the bowl over to Father and handed it to him, but then gestured for him to wait.
Retrieving the stalk of Hyrule herb he still carried in a pouch at his belt, Link shredded up some of the leaves and sprinkled it on top of Father's meal.
Father smiled knowingly. "Just like your mother," he said fondly, and gave Link's shoulder a thump.
"You had something else for me to do?"
Father nodded, and paused to chew and swallow before answering. "Run through the second kata. Focus on precision. Come now, let's see it."
Link would rather be running off to get his own dinner, but he knew better than to complain. He waited only a moment to see if Father would offer the use of his royal broadsword – he let Link try it on occasion – but no such offer was forthcoming, and so he fetched his plain soldier's broadsword from inside the barracks and then got into position.
"Half-speed," Father added just before he started.
Of course. Katas were more fun to do at speed. It just felt satisfying to have the movements memorized enough to flow through them without hesitation. The truth was, it was much harder to do one slowly. Every flaw in your form would show. No doubt that was the point.
Link pushed aside distractions – his hunger, his curiosity about the princess, his unease about entering the Lost Woods – and began flowing through the movements at a deliberately slow speed. Down-slash, down-slash, thrust. Pivot, side-slash, thrust, up-slash. The temptation was always to focus on flashing the blade about, but the secret was really in the footwork. If your stance was strong and your footwork precise, everything else would follow more naturally.
He was accustomed to having Father watch him with a critical eye – after all, that was his job – but now the other Royal Guards sitting around eating their dinners were looking in his direction, too. Link felt the beginnings of a flush moving up his face. He had never liked being the center of attention. Once, Kester had persuaded him to volunteer together to do a little demonstration for a troupe of actors performing at Castle Town, to help them make their play-fighting on stage look more realistic. That was the day Link had discovered that the gazes of a crowd of people could feel like a physical force, boring into your soul and making you overthink everything you said and did. It had been horrible. Worse than a battle.
It took a terrible effort, but as he moved through the kata he did the only thing he knew of to make that awful feeling of standing on a stage go away. He concentrated hard, keeping his eyes fixed a short distance in front of him, imagining that there was a monster to face off against. There was no one but him and his enemy. Up-slash, up-slash, thrust. Keep the stance strong, keep the elbows bent at the right angle, keep the wrist in line. Focus so tight that there was no room to think of anything but the fight.
Better. Now the faces in the background were somewhat blurred.
Link moved into the final sequence of movements, and this time he imagined the battle so vividly that for a minute he truly did forget where he was. Finally, he finished off the imaginary monster with a pivot-powered side-slash and then stepped back, breathing a little hard but feeling good about what he'd just done. He sheathed his sword and then looked at Father, clasping his hands behind his back to wait for the constructive criticism that must come.
Abruptly, he realized that the other Royal Guards were still looking at him. Instantly his nervousness returned. They must have seen every flaw in his form, every break in his rhythm. Had he just embarrassed Father in front of all his peers? A moment ago he thought his performance had been good, but suddenly he was equally certain that it hadn't been. The worst thing a squire could do was to be overconfident. Only humility could keep you open to making improvements. How long would it take Father to list everything he had just done wrong? Why wasn't he already speaking? Better to get it over with quickly.
The silence stretched out, and Link couldn't bear the suspense.
"How can I be better, Father?" he asked, and promptly cringed inwardly at his own tone. He probably sounded like a little boy again. What was the point of growing up if he couldn't seem to act like it?
Father looked at him for a long moment, his bowl of food held loosely in his hands, barely touched. There was an odd expression on his face. Almost a sadness.
Finally, he jerked his head to the side. "Run off and get your dinner," he said.
Was he trying to spare Link the embarrassment of public criticism? Still, he would take it. He'd probably get the real evaluation later.
"Thank you, Father."
As Link trotted off after leaving his sword in the barracks once more, he could hear a murmur rising up from the other Royal Guards. "...pay a silver rupee to see something like that from mine," one muttered to another, resuming whatever conversation they'd been having before Link's blunders had interrupted them.
He hustled toward the cookfire line that looked shortest, and in minutes he had acquired a bowl of rice topped with slices of roasted boar meat and had settled down on a long bench next to Kester as the other squires shifted over to make room for him. Link took a big bite and closed his eyes in relief, his discomfort from the kata incident rapidly fading. This meal wasn't as nice as the stew Father had gotten, but the rice was tender and the meat was hearty, even if it was only seasoned with salt. Belatedly, Link pulled the Hyrule herb out of his belt pouch once more and sprinkled some of the remaining leaves over his meal, giving some to Kester, too. He tried another bite. Oh, much better. He'd missed this flavor even more than he'd thought he had.
"I shouldn't encourage you," Kester said wryly as he took a bite from his rice bowl. "One of these days Imbert is going to catch you." His face changed as he tasted the difference. "But you know what, this is actually pretty good. Link, are you sure you don't want to quit and become a cook like your mother?" The other boys snorted into their bowls. "You could work here at the camp! Or follow our unit around and make sure we had something decent to eat for a change! No more plain ol' bread rations on a long march! You could make us honey crepes and creamy soups and... and... apple pie!"
Kester and the other squires kept up the teasing throughout the meal and Link endured it with good humor. But it wasn't long before Imbert showed up to chivy them all back into formation. The sun was beginning to set, and it was time for them to enter the Lost Woods.
Link craned his neck and spotted Father with the other Royal Guards at the front of the procession. No one was on horseback this time, not even King Rhoam and Princess Zelda. The path through the Lost Woods was narrow and crisscrossed with low branches, they had been told. No double-marching this time; they would take it slow and be respectful in light of the rare invitation they had been given to enter the woods.
Lit torches were handed out to those standing on both edges of the column, and they set off. The narrow neck of land leading to the Lost Woods was just ahead. An enormous rocky outcropping marked the place to cross, with the path slipping through a narrow cleft in the rock and disappearing into the thick fog. Link felt a flutter of anticipation in his middle as the men began filing through. He glanced up at Kester, who walked by his side clutching his torch with an iron grip. Kester did not look thrilled to be here, despite all his earlier excitement at getting to see the legendary sword of the hero.
It was their turn to walk through. Link took a deep breath, and stepped into the Lost Woods.
TO BE CONTINUED
