Chapter
Why we failed pt. 15
Steady hands and Torn Heart
The room was black as pitch but slowly took shape around him. To his relief, Link realized he hadn't died, or so he believed. His head throbbed and his body ached as he lay on some sort of table. The air felt damp, like a cold cellar, and he could smell the stringent odors of strange ointments and tonics. Surely, if he were dead, he wouldn't be able to smell or be in this much pain, right? Or maybe that's what death was—everlasting pain or your last state of being. But what exactly was his last state of being?
Unsure, he realized that most of the darkness was due to the half-helm still covering his face. Fearing the worst, he desperately tried to move his fingers to feel the extent of the damage. The last memory no longer fresh in his mind, he pieced together the order of events that had just transpired. The tournament—that's it, that's where I was. The match, the last duel with that Dragoon. Why did he try to attack? Jun! Where's Jun?
"Lay still," a moody voice instructed. Suddenly, light began to flood the cellar as a door sprung ajar, casting torchlight from the other room. The bright blaring white burned his eyelids nearly blinding him.
"You are in no condition to move. After I give you my medicine, you can do what you want with your life, but for now, you are my patient. I'm under strict orders to see you are cared for in my hands. What you do afterwards with your life is your own affair," the voice said, slamming the door behind him. The room darkened again.
Link blinked in the dim light, trying to focus on the figure now approaching him. The smell of herbs and something akin to burnt wood filled his nostrils. He could taste the bitter tang of some medicinal concoction lingering in the air.
"…Jun," Link moaned.
"Jun? I don't know any Jun," the voice responded.
Link coughed, his vision beginning to clear as a candlelight melted into focus from the slit of his visor. The room, now illuminated, revealed rows of shelves lined with vials, jars, and curious instruments. A robed man sat beside him, looking more like a Sanctuary Cleric than a doctor. From what Link could spy from where he lay, the man had an air of solemn authority.
"Oh, you mean that boy. I had to shoo him out of here. Meddlesome lad, telling me how to do my job," the robed man shook his head, reaching for a thin bottle as he set down the candelabrum. "You know, I've been trained in the arts of mending wounds and learned even a bit of healer craft from the Zora themselves. Yet, that boy says he knows better and has seen better. Well, what I have to say to that is—"
"—I'm sorry…but, I don't care right now," Link mumbled, the man's tirade only adding to the pain. "Just, where is he, please?"
"Who, that boy?"
"Yes," Link moaned, his arm pulsing with throbs at every breath.
"Well, fine, if you insist. But I'll have to go fetch him. He also insisted I keep your helm on and said that it was your wish. How am I to perform my duties if I can't inspect the scope of your wounds? For all I know, there's hardly any head under there to save."
"Oh no, the Trial of the Flame!" Link hollered, ignoring the sagely man. "I'll be disqualified!" He suddenly stirred where he lay, attempting to draw strength to rise, but the old man pressed against him to lie still.
"See what I mean? No brains. What's the matter with you? Didn't you a word I said? You're lucky to be alive. Are you so eager to get yourself killed?"
Link ignored him, trying to muster the strength to rise, but he just couldn't budge a muscle. His entire body screamed in protest, the throbbing pain in his arm syncing with every desperate heartbeat.
Link's mind raced, his heartbeat matching the desperate throb of his wound. The man shook his head with a tsk. "I just finished putting your arm and shoulder back together and here you are ready to undo all my hard work. Well, count me out the next time they bring you to me. I'm tired of stitching up foolish boys who wanna run off looking for trouble. I never understood it. Perfectly good heads they have on their shoulders and what do they want to do? Bash them in just to prove themselves. And all just for the shouts of the crowd or the praise of pretty maidens who bat their eyelashes at them."
Link groaned. "I don't compete for maidens or glory. I need to become a guardsman."
"Oh really? Then explain why such a sweet maiden took such a high interest in you and brought you here, so much so that she left a fat sack of rupees right there on my desk to see to it?"
"Huh?" Link croaked, confusion lacing his voice as he turned his head towards the direction the man gestured. There, on a workbench, sat a brown sack brimming with gems where flickering candlelight cascaded through them brilliant hues of red, green and blue on the walls of the dimly lit room like some strange ethereal halo.
"She's the one who paid for your expedited care. I do have a slew of other patients, but she said you are to take priority this evening. Not that I had much choice. Clearly, you were in the worst shape of the lot. Most of the others only had bruised egos than bodies."
The old cleric quivered a smile. "Why is that you think she demanded you take priority? Why you more so than any of the other lads if she doesn't fancy an eye on you? Surely, you must know."
"Who? Huh?"
"The princess, lad," the man said with a chortle, his arm wobbling as he reached for a small bowl with shimmying powder to mix with some steaming tonic he poured from a bottle. "You must have hit your head harder than I thought. But yes, her majesty herself tasked me to watch after you and make sure you are made whole by the morrow. Now, that girl is a maiden if I ever met one."
"The princess?! She saw me?"
"Hylia, no. The boy saw to that. And again, I must ask, why the secret? For all I know, you're about three seconds from keeling over or worse, you may go deaf and dumb by the blow done to your cranium. You've hardly made any sense since you awoke. It might be a concussion."
"A what?"
"A concussion, ugh, never mind. Look, if you don't want to reveal yourself to her or anybody, fine, but I at least should have a look. She left already for the feast anyway."
"The feast? How long have I been out?"
"Oh, I'd say about thirty or so minutes since they brought you to me. You're at the castle now, deep into its underbelly near the dungeons," the cleric said, adjusting a jar on his cluttered table.
"But what of the Trial of the Flame? It's tonight. I don't understand—" Link's voice was weak but insistent.
"Postponed until the morrow, I'm afraid," the man responded briskly, lifting Link's arm to apply a smoking herbal poultice. Link winced as it stung like mad. The man continued his work without skipping a beat. "Like I said, you must be some sort of special because it seems you hold high favor with her majesty. By her royal decree, the trials have been halted until the morrow. So now, they have gone and started the first eve of feasting instead. You would have joined them if it weren't for your injury. And I must caution against thinking of getting up to join them no matter how tempting the prospect may be. The medicine of the Zora that I had was in small supply, and your body won't be fully mended till the morning light. Now, what say we have a look at that head?"
"First, Jun, what of Jun?" Link asked, fighting back the chattering of his teeth as he shivered on the table. A sudden chill began to overcome him.
"Oh yeah, the boy. I'll go get him. He's waiting in the hall. But first, you're going to have to drink this potion." The man helped Link lift his head and raised the bowl to his lips, filled with a pale, soupy substance. Link's tongue and lips protested.
"What did you expect? Sweet Romani Milk?"
Link fought the gag, the initial drips staining his tunic, but he managed to gulp down the rest.
"Down the hatch now. Every last drop. That's Mending Milk all the way from the Lake of Three Omens. Very rare and extremely expensive to procure. Only the most accomplished of Zora can reach the fathoms deep enough to traverse those frigid, murky waters."
Link coughed. "Y—why is that?"
The man shook his head, popping a cork back onto one of the vials. "Because only those who are blessed by the Patron Deity of the Zora can resist the ancient evil that lurks within those treacherous depths. Only they can survive long enough to withstand the poison and discover the hidden treasure guarded by what is only described as a terrible beast," he said, before chortling to himself again.
"W—what beast?"
"Tales speak of a finned demon from the ancient world."
"Ancient world?" Link asked, gripping the sheets beside him in a closed fist.
"Yes, remnants from an age where the world was very different than what we perceive now. A world where darkness ruled over light. A land where monsters freely roamed. But since the grace of the goddess, the tide has turned and we are now in the age of the long peace."
"And of the beast?"
"Legends name him Gyorga or Gyorg, depending on the dialect and who you ask. And he only lives on they say because the darkness of those waters shields him from the light of the goddess."
Link winced again just as he was listening.
The old man smiled softly again, as if turning the page of a riveting book. "You see, the unique milky tonic you drank from comes from the mysterious Shell-Blade Clam. The Zora say they are guarded by that monster. And inside the heart of these wondrous creatures lies a pearl, the key ingredient to this special brew. They say Shell-Blade Clams only produce one every seven years. Strangely though, aside from the name, it tastes like anything but, milk," the man said, before returning to glance at Link who he saw struggling to listen. "Don't worry, you'll feel better soon."
"And Jun?" Link pressed; his voice strained.
"Oh yes, I'll go fetch him for you. I suppose you deserve that much," the cleric said with a thin smile. "Quite the loyal one you found there. He even refused a hot supper and a seat at her majesty's table to wait by your side. A scrawny, hungry lad like that, I couldn't believe it. But wait here, it will be just a minute."
Link fell back on the straw pillow that cradled his head, stewing over what had transpired. The tournament felt like ages ago, yet according to the old goat, it had just happened. Even the details of the contests were still fuzzy in his mind. He tried to recall the events, the faces, the roar of the crowd. Everything felt distant, a haze of indistinct memories.
It didn't take long for the cleric to return with Jun chasing the tail of his robes.
"Here's your squire as requested. But, like I said before, you shouldn't get up. When they brought you to me, you had lost quite a bit of your life's blood. I'm amazed you're awake even now. Surely, you must be exhausted and a bit dizzy still."
Jun rushed to Link's side, eyes wide with concern. "Sir, I'm so glad you're awake!" he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of relief, worry and excitement. "They said you were a goner, but I knew better. No way some sneak attack could have done you in."
Link managed a weak smile. "I'm still here, Jun. Thanks to you, I hear."
"Aw, it was nothing." Jun said, fighting the childish blush, looking down at his worn boots. "I did what anyone would do, Sir. It's my duty."
"So, the princess, did she?"
"No, you haven't got to worry about that. I made sure you kept your helm on during everything. Speaking of, she asked me to join them for the feast, but I told them all that my place is here. Besides, you saved my life. What sort of squire would I be if I ran off when you needed me most?"
Link struggled a smile as he tried to sit up in his bed but couldn't.
"Easy now, easy." The old cleric intervened. "Not so fast. I'm afraid you won't be able to move until the morning light. You see, the medicine has a grip on your entire body now. It's part of the healing process. And once it takes a hold of your senses, you'd have a better chance wiggling out of a Leever pit than overcoming the properties of that potion."
Link groaned. "Now you tell me." The old man shrugged. Link then forced his lips to move and speak. "Jun, come closer."
The boy obeyed and sat nearer to him to listen.
"Go to the feast and give my regards and apologies for not being able to make it. Tell the Princess, I will be ready for the marrow's trial. Whatever it takes. Also, find my father or Sven and tell them where I am, but no one else, okay? Can you do that for me?"
"Sure thing, Sir, but shouldn't I stay here and keep guard over you?" Jun asked, concern etched on his young face.
"I'll be fine," Link reassured, his voice steady despite his exhaustion.
"But Sir, he tried to kill you, that Dragoon. Luckily, somebody got to him before he could have done more damage," Jun insisted, his eyes wide with urgency.
"Someone got the Dragoon?" Link asked, perplexed.
"Oh, yes, it was an amazing shot too. The best all night, some say, though I think yours earlier during the contest was a tad better," Jun said, pride mingling with worry.
Link blinked, trying to piece it together. "Never mind that, Jun. But you're certain someone got the Dragoon?"
"Yeah, and killed him dead too. Good riddance, I say. He was evil and wanted you dead," Jun replied fervently.
"But how?" Link pressed, his brow furrowed.
"An arrow."
"An arrow?"
"Yeah, it was amazing that it didn't hit you though. It came this close, grazing right past your ear some saw. But, in the end it didn't. The Dragoon took it in the gizzard instead. So apparently, someone was looking out after you. Unfortunately, he left no trace and got a way before the soldiers could find him."
I'm not so sure if I would say that. It may have been intended for me and missed.
"But Sir, even still, that Dragoon wasn't acting alone. Somebody gave the order to have you killed in the tournament. They also found that his weapons were false. Not true bronze at all. He cheated," Jun explained, his voice trembling slightly.
"I know. That's why I had you fetch me my poleaxe during the match," Link said, his expression grim.
Jun leaned in, clenching Link's tunic. "They want you dead, Sir. I just know it. Dragoons are the worst, trust me."
Link managed a smirk. "You mean, they want us both dead. Don't forget, that knife was intended for you first, and now I hear there's another mystery villain on the loose."
"Yes, but that man saved you. Surely—"
"—We can't be sure he intended to save me or not," Link interrupted, shaking his head.
"Well, if that's true and you are right, Sir, then that means you're not safe in the condition you are in. What if he's really an assassin and comes for you in the night and I'm busy off back at the party pavilions?" Jun shook his head, insistent. "I would much rather stay here and stand guard. I don't belong at no party anyway."
"Jun, please. I'll be okay. Mystery man or no. This room used to be a holding cell from what I can tell. I'll ask the good doctor to lock it before every time he comes and goes. These doors are made from thick Deku and are reinforced by castle-forged iron. So you have no need to fret over me. My concern is for you, and I know you will be safe at the feast," Link said, his tone firm yet comforting.
"But Sir, I don't think—"
"—No buts, Jun. As your knight, this is an order. There is no place better for you to keep safe than by the princess's side," Link insisted, though doubt lingered in his mind. "There will be scores of guardsmen around. And besides, she will need you to keep her company in my stead. And above all, she asked for you to join her. That is a very high honor."
"Ugh, if you insist," Jun rolled his eyes, protesting. "But she's a girl. What sort of things could I possibly talk about with a girl? I mean, she is pretty and nice and all, but I don't know how to keep a lady like her company. They like silly things. Not to mention, those other lords don't want me there either."
"Which is exactly why you should go. Go for me."
Jun feigned a whine.
"You'll do fine. And besides, this victory is just as much yours as it is mine. I really would have been a goner on that field if it weren't for you. Go, you deserve it. How often do you get to enjoy such fine food and drink?" Link coughed, trying to sound convincing. He could see the lad rolling the idea around in his head with that screwed up face he makes.
"But just do me a favor while you're there and enjoying yourself," Link added, his tone shifting to a more serious note.
"And what's that?" Jun asked, curiosity piqued.
"Try and keep an eye out for me, okay? I'm trusting you to act in my stead and listen to what is happening. Keep a watch for anything while I'm resting," Link instructed, his voice steady.
"I guess, if that's what you really want. But I still think it's a stupid idea. My place is here. If something were to happen, it's going to be here. I even found Shywind and brought her too. She's grazing right outside near the postern gate. We're both here for you," Jun insisted, his loyalty unwavering.
Link used what little strength remained and gripped the boy's hand. "Please, Jun, go." His voice carried a hidden urgency, a silent plea that Jun could sense but in his young mind couldn't entirely decipher.
"Fine, as you wish," Jun relented, the weight of the unspoken message lingering in his mind. With a reluctant nod, he scooted off the side of the table Link lay on and rushed out the door, disappearing into the early evening.
"A loyal lad you have there," the cleric offered with a smile, clearing his belongings back into their proper shelves and sleeves. "And with that, I too must bid you fairly-well this evening. It seems your head is just fine. And besides, the hour of the whistling mist will soon be at hand, and I wouldn't want to miss that. Rest well, and I'll see you at dawn's first light."
Before Link could reply or understand the old man's cryptic last words, the door slammed shut, and the padlock and door bar clicked into place. The medicine began to work its mysterious magic on him, and slowly, the dimly lit candles around the old cellar began to dance and sway, as if alive, listening to the music of happier times. Perhaps they were a mirror of the festivities happening now back at the pavilions which Link missed. He could only wonder.
He could only wonder if Jun understood the meaning of his gripped message. Though the feast would be guarded, he knew now that the princess needed someone, she could trust by her side to keep watch, especially now that a mystery assailant was on the loose, and that someone was Jun.
Before he could delve too much into his thoughts, the room fell black again, and he too along with it.
Forty minutes prior-
The royal box was a frenzy. Guards and guests alike rose from their seats, still trying to comprehend what had transpired. Helmsworth, the Princess's champion, lay collapsed on the sandy arena, flanked by his squire desperately trying to render aid, while his would-be challenger drowned in his own blood beside them. Zelda could hardly make heads or tails of it. Moments ago, she was filled with excitement, pride, and hope for the future. Now, all that was replaced by despair and uncertainty. She whispered to herself, "I have to get to him, he needs help."
Before she could act, Lord Danarus, father of Arasmus, took control with his commanding voice. "Find where that arrow flew from! Seal all the exits of the grounds! Go, now!" he barked orders at his subordinates. He then turned to the king with an air of confidence. "Not to worry, my King, my finest men will find this culprit and enact swift justice."
Zelda, speaking up like a mouse among a pride of lions, interjected wishing for her own sense of justice, "And what of the culprit who now lies dead on the sand? The one who shamelessly attacked and stabbed a man in the back. What of his crime?"
"Your questions will be answered, I assure you, dear Princess," Lord Danarus replied sharply. "I promise, as soon as we secure the area."
"With swarms of Dragoons around, how can anyone feel safe?" Zelda mumbled disapprovingly.
"That is enough, Zelda," the king snapped, overhearing her. He then turned to his most trusted counselor, his voice stern. "But she is right, Lord Danarus. There must be an inquiry as to why one of your bannermen tried to murder a man when his back was turned."
Arasmus lifted his hand, as one would make a peace offering during war. "It is my fault."
Everyone glanced at him, unsure if they heard him right. Zelda most of all didn't trust his sly tongue and glared secretly at him. Is this a confession of guilt? Or has he completely lost his wits?
"You see, my liege, and dear Princess, the man who attacked your champion was formerly under my banner. I should have mentioned it sooner, but I saw no harm in him enlisting from afar. It is a free kingdom, after all," the young lord defended, looking to the princess for acceptance.
Zelda didn't know what to make of his reasons, and a strange pause ensued even as the chaos below still brewed.
"Go on," Danarus urged, looking to his son for a full explanation.
Arasmus swallowed and continued, "A disgraced outcast from the order of Dragoons."
"How so?" Zelda interrogated.
Arasmus played it off coolly, like water off a duck's back. "He was dismissed from my service due to some earlier crimes that came to light. Rockwell was his name. We exiled him mere days ago and banished him from our midst. He must have sought to get back at me for stripping him of his ranks, titles, and holdings in the only way he knew how."
"And how would that be?" she inquired again, more focused on catching whatever slick lie he might ramble out next.
"Isn't it obvious, my dear?" Arasmus said smoothly.
Her face scrunched up into a perplexed look, which she quickly hid.
"He wanted to get back at me by upsetting you, my dear Princess. It's the only explanation for his lack of honor on the field. He must have overheard about this Helmsworth fellow and made his play to upstage the events here today. Forgive me for not stopping the farce before it got out of hand, but I had no idea things would escalate to such a depraved level of debauchery."
You're good. But not as good as you believe yourself to be, Zelda thought. But don't worry. The others may be fooled by your sweet explanations, but I know better, your words of honey are poison to me.
"Forgive me, dear Sundelion," Arasmus said with a bow, his arm crossing his chest in a solemn gesture of penance. "I made an error in judgment."
Hearing the chaotic chorus of voices rallying below, Zelda decided not to press him further. "It is enough. Rise. I have to get down to the field. Helmsworth needs help, and that Herald is clueless at controlling the situation."
"Way to take action, Little Bird," Urbosa chimed in, her voice carrying a note of admiration.
"Well, someone must. Might as well be me," Zelda replied, her tone firm.
"Then, I'm glad it is you," Prince Arcturus commented, stepping beside Purah, Urbosa, and a few Gerudo sentries.
King Rhoam shook his head, a frown creasing his brow. "I don't like the idea of you meandering down there among the common riffraff, my dear. Especially alone," he insisted, rising from his high seat and taking a step toward her.
"I will not seek refuge here like some scared little girl," the princess insisted, fiery determination aglow in her eyes. "In mere hours I'll be ten and six, a woman grown. What the people need to see from me now is strength. Forgive me, Father, but I won't be intimidated into hiding."
"But Zelda—"
"—She won't be alone," Arasmus interjected. "I, as well as an entire troop of men, will escort her."
"And we'll go too," asserted Urbosa, placing a comforting arm around Zelda. Urbosa didn't trust Arasmus or his goons. Her uncle also gave her an encouraging and approving wink.
The king glanced at Danarus who had better judgement and experience in these situations. With a nod, that was all the council the king needed. "Very well, then. If you insist, but only to help this friend of yours. Return as soon as things are sorted."
"Thank you, Father," Zelda said nervously. This would be the first time she took charge of a situation outside her normal purview. Slowly turning to the steps that led down the decks to the arena, she sucked in a breath and sighed, whispering to herself as she clasped her hands against her bosom. "I'm coming, Helmsworth. Hang on just a little longer. Help is coming."
About to follow after their coattails was the seneschal, but before he could scurry after them, Lord Danarus, seated beside the king and flanked by two retainers, questioned him. "And just where do you think you are going? Hmm?"
"Down below with the others, of course. After all, all the armed men will be down at the arena. Who is to guard my safety here after they have all fled?" the seneschal replied, his voice slightly playful.
"Really? Since when were you ever concerned for your safety? Are the king's men or mine not enough to calm your fears?" Danarus pressed, lifting a stern eyebrow where he sat, staring at him.
"That's the thing. Their priority will be looking after you and the king, as it should be. I, a lowly servant of the court, must fend for myself, I'm afraid," the seneschal said, feigning worry.
The king gave a dismissive chuckle. Suddenly, he rose from his high seat, drained his mug, wiped his chin, and signaled his last two remaining guardsmen to escort him to the privy, leaving the High Lord and the seneschal to their dealings.
Danarus watched as the King left and then glanced back at the seneschal, that same inquisitive brow lifted.
"You caught me," the seneschal said, feigning raised hands in a stickup gesture once they were alone. Unable to fight the grin tugging at his lips, he gave in. "Oh, come on, my lord, let me have this bit of fun. I had to say something convincing, didn't I?"
"Are you the high seneschal or a street jester?" Danarus stared at him blankly, his gaze as cold as ice. He was in no mood for jokes.
"Oh, you're no fun," the seneschal declared whimsically. "You must admit, the evening has been quite exciting thus far with its twists and turns. Who knew?"
"Exciting? A man is lying dead in a pool of his own blood and another may join him at any moment, and you say things are exciting?"
"A terrible loss, I admit," the seneschal shrugged, "but I'm a simple creature with simple fascinations, and this spectacle has turned out to be far more entertaining than I would have imagined with the run-of-the-mill tourney. And besides, the princess is right."
"About what?" The old Lord rolled his eyes, reaching for his goblet nonchalantly, taking a sip with little care.
"My dear brother, the Herald, is quite droll at handling the crowd during these sad unforeseen events. He has quite the queasy eye and even more a gutless intuition. Perhaps, I should make sure that the wishes of the princess are carried out properly."
"Very well, if you must insert yourself. Have your fun. I have a strange feeling it will be the last we all have for some time."
"Thank you, and many goddess blessings to you."
With that, the pampered man took flight, leaving the liege lord to wrestle with his own thoughts alone, watching the ensuing debacle happening below in the arena.
"What is your game, son?" the High Lord whispered to himself, his gaze dark and contemplative.
Back at the arena of sand, Jun desperately tried to help Link cling onto life. The boy continued to bark for help for those watching at the sidelines and announcement deck. "Fetch a doctor! He's still breathing! Somebody, anybody!"
The herald was at a loss, his words caught in his throat and no matter how much he mouthed what to say, nothing came out. The crowd grew more and more restless, some were worried for what happened during the final bout and others have already taken their leave before any more ill surprises could happen. Most however remained glued on the spectacle before them. Who was the mystery warrior who flew that killing arrow, and will the Princess's champion survive his own catastrophe?
Without warning, to surprising shock of all, royal trumpets blared heralding the arrival of the royal court and their armed escort. Rows of guardsman wielding large kite shields that reached their heels split the anxious masses like a ship's keel through ocean waves, pushing back onlookers, clearing a path for the princess and her friends to make way to the fallen champion.
Taking this as his cue for action, the Herald also fled from his deck to join them with several attendants following in tow. The princess's gaze met Jun, who quickly wiped the red tears watering in his eyes. Her heart sank seeing the boy look so helpless. Was she too late?
Attendants behind the princess, at her nodded instruction went to fetch Link from off the arena floor. Three of them began the hurry work of removing his armor, but before they could get any further or lay him on a crude stretcher, Jun hollered after them.
"No, you can't, you mustn't!" the boy pleaded toward one of the robed men, who was about to remove his helmet.
"Why?" replied the helper.
"Please, you can't. Just his armor. Leave his helm."
"But why? How can we—" but before he could finish, the princess stepped forward between them.
She could hardly believe the state Helmsworth was in, now that his breastplate and pauldron had been removed. She would have taken him for dead if it were not for the ragged breathing he gasped every few seconds. She wanted to cry for him but knew better than to display such tender feelings before the people. It was then her eyes met the tortured gaze of Jun's, and in that instant, she saw and understood silently. With a firm wave of her hand, she signaled a command for the men not to remove Helmsworth's helm and to administer to him as best they could in the circumstances.
Arasmus could only roll his eyes at the absurd gesture.
Zelda realized after a few moments that whatever aid they were rendering him wasn't working well, and the worry began to really set in. This time she couldn't help but feel frightened for his life, and a bit of panic began to overwhelm her. "There's no time; he's losing a lot of blood. We're going to lose him if we don't do something. Where are the doctors?" she spoke up, moving closer to the huddle of men desperately trying to bandage him in the meantime.
"They will be here in a few minutes, your grace. I assure you, they have been summoned," the seneschal said, now standing beside her. He glanced back to the stands and to her, his mind silently racing with what was taking so long.
Meanwhile, the herald was corralling the watching crowd with his booming voice, assuring them that all would be underway momentarily.
The fear sank deeper and deeper into her bones like a frosty chill that would never see the warmth of day. But before she could let it overcome her senses, she suddenly remembered something, perhaps just a hopeful wish, but hope nevertheless. As if discovering a ray of light, she turned to the Zora Princess beside her, who had been watching as well. "Mipha, didn't you mention you were studying the arts of healercraft?"
"Well, yes, I am, but—" the Zora Princess stammered, her belly a tangle of knots. Suddenly, everyone was focused on what she would say next. They studied every word and syllable as if it were some revelation from the goddess herself.
A bit frantic, Zelda implored again, her voice filled with urgency. "Then, you can help. Please, you must. I beg you,' she asked, just shy of falling to her knees.
"I... I..." Mipha squeaked, her voice barely audible. She wanted to help with all her heart, but dread stirred within her, and her hands quivered under the intense scrutiny.
Arasmus spoke up, feigning concern for the princess's interests. "It shouldn't be too much. It's just a stab wound. It's not even poisoned."
"I, uh, I'm not so sure I—"
Purah's voice cut through the tension, offering encouragement. "You can do this, Mipha. Don't let the doubts win."
Finally, the Zora princess sighed and relented, determination flickering in her eyes. "I can try, but I must warn you, I'm still learning and quite the novice. But of course, I'll try," she said, offering a caring glance to lift the princess's spirits.
"Thank you. Whatever you can do would be most appreciated," Zelda said humbly, bowing her head almost as if in prayer.
Parting through the others caring for Helmsworth, Mipha knelt beside his squire next to his broken body. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to silence all the commotion, the stress, and the growing fear of those around her. The chorus of doubts swirling in her mind were like an immense weight on her shoulders that she needed to be rid of if the magic were to work.
Muttering an incoherent line of phrases in an unknown tongue, Zelda watched as the Zora princess began to summon her gift of healing.
Mipha knelt beside Link, her hands glowing with a gentle blue light as she began to channel her healing magic. "Hold on, Helmsworth. You're not alone," she whispered, her voice soothing and calm, yet filled with urgency.
"Come on, Mipha, I know you can do this," Zelda whispered to herself, her hands clenched tightly against her chest. The early night air was thick with tension, the scent of blood and damp earth filling their nostrils.
The crowd watched in breathless silence as Mipha's healing powers took effect, the light spreading over Helmsworth's wounds. Zelda's heart pounded in her chest, her eyes never leaving the scene before her. She could taste the salty tang of her own tears mingling with the sweat on her lips, before having to wipe them away so nobody would notice.
Arasmus stood by, his expression unreadable as he watched the events unfold. He felt the eyes of the crowd and the princess upon him, but he remained stoic, his thoughts hidden behind a mask of indifference.
Minutes felt like hours as Mipha worked tirelessly, her healing magic weaving through Link's body, offering temporary relief. The crowd fell silent, their collective breath held as they witnessed the struggle.
Open wounds miraculously closed and began to form scars and when all seemed hopeful, suddenly, the ethereal glow began to fade, and instead of a direct connection between her fingertips and Helmsworth, the soothing uniform light bent into twisted chaotic sparks. Mipha looked up, her face a mix of exhaustion and worry. The princess's gift of healing, still raw and developing, could only do so much.
Some parts that were healed began to undo and fearful desperation overtook the young Zora Princess.
It was then, a robed man, dressed as a lowly priest made his way beside her. "It is alright, I am here, and you have done well to buy me the precious time needed to do the rest." The cleric offered to take over, gently moving the frightened girl's quivering hands away. With a nod, he instructed an acolyte to help him dress the remaining wounds as he applied special ointments.
Still in shock, Mipha cried out. "His wound, it's quite deep. I'm sorry princess, my hands were not skilled enough to mend such a gash. Oh, I'm so sorry, the magic, it isn't working. Forgive me, there are far better experienced healers at the Domain, Muzu comes to mind and so do others."
Everything was happening so fast and her words caught the princess of guard, Zelda blinked, "Who?"
Her uncle answered before Mipha could. "The Zora King's most trusted confidant and high counselor."
Quite shaken, Mipha replied further. "My teacher, he is the one I'm apprenticing under. But alas, he isn't here. Forgive me for my weak use of my people's strength, Princess," she said, head hung low.
"Not to worry," spoke up the cleric who to their surprise was already finished dressing Helmsworth. "He'll survive for now," he said softly, looking at Zelda with a mixture of hope and caution.
He then smiled at the Zora princess. "If it weren't for your abilities to hold off the bloodletting, I don't think I would have arrived in time to make a difference. So, I would say, you're the one who truly saved him. So there's nothing to be forgiven for."
Mipha glanced up to meet his encouraging smile, eyes red with worry, unsure if she heard him right. Link's breathing, once ragged and uneven, began to steady slightly and it was then she began to believe.
"I would even go far as to say it was your gentle touch that really did the trick. Clearly, love resides in your hands."
Mipha blushed a faint smile now that all eyes of congratulations were on her, and the cleric continued. "Don't you fret, I'll take him from here. I'm somewhat familiar in your arts and I even trained under Muzu for a time myself. Rest is what he needs now."
Zelda's legs nearly gave out from the relief mingled with renewed anxiety. "Thank you, to the both of you. Thank you so much," she said, her voice choked with emotion.
Jun couldn't help but tug on the robes of the old man. "When will he back good as new?"
"Hmm, I'd say, with the medicine I have, he should be good by the dawn if left to rest undisturbed."
"Then I'm going with you. I have to make sure you do it right." Jun offered, not taking no for an answer. Zelda could have smiled at his determination but the old cleric shrugged it off. "If you insist."
The herald realizing the worst was now behind them, took this opportune moment to clear his throat and speak up beside Zelda. "And what of this mystery assailant who slain the Dragoon?"
Arasmus spoke up on her behalf, noticing she was still lost in her thoughts. "We are not even sure if this mystery bowman is a friend or foe and rest assured, men have been dispatched to find the culprit in either case. So let that be the end of that for now."
The Herald turned to her again, wanting to hear her thoughts on the matter. "And what of the Trial, your Highness? Now that this over with, shouldn't we proceed? The people are watching."
Zelda blinked again, realizing that the entire time the crowds were still gathered and waiting for the main event. "Then commence," she said, uncaringly, her mind still adrift elsewhere.
"That would be marvelous, Your Grace but um—"The herald bowed his head as if offering condolences.
"But what?' Zelda turned to face him, patience wearing thin, yet still wearing a cheerful disposition.
"Your champion, I mean, he was the victor during these preliminaries and well—."
"—And what of him?"
"Well, forgive me for saying this but it's just that he's in no condition to carry on this evening. He needs immediate attention from the apothecary and brotherhood of healers, mayhaps even Zora medicine might be a must if this Cleric is to be believed. And the trials are tonight."
Zelda could have facepalmed herself, remembering that tiny pesky little detail. She shook her head. "No, I will not have him disqualified for no fault of his own."
The seneschal also spoke up, trying to offer reason. "I'm sorry your grace but there's no other way—"
Arasmus folded his arms, his voice swallowing up their own "—You heard the princess; he shall not be disqualified."
"My lord?" Both the Seneschal and the Herald both asked.
"The trials will just have to resume on the marrow after her champion receives his rest and healing," he boldly declared on her behalf. "Surely, the people can wait a day."
Zelda could hardly believe what she was hearing though nevertheless went along with it. She gulped, trying to summon the authority to make such a declaration. "Y—yes, the Trials will just have to resume on the marrow. Hopefully, Helmsworth has recovered his strength by then and if not, I will grant you your wishes to begin without him."
"Very well," The Herald relented with a shrug. And with that he turned to face the people awaiting in the stands. With his booming voice he raised his hands and relayed the princess's decree. "It has been decided that in the spirit of fairness and what has transpired this evening, the Trial of the Flame will commence at the turn of day, on the marrow."
It was then, mid-speech did he feel someone gently push him aside, It was the Princess. Eyes ashine, she glanced up at all the people. From nobles to perched in their high seats to the commons along the fences, she found the strength to address them.
"My dear beloved people of Hyrule, I know that this news wasn't what you wanted to hear this evening. I know that we all have been waiting eagerly for this milestone in our history with joyful anticipation. That our future's destiny weighs in the balance in these next few days. But I ask thee now, a plea for patience and for one more day on this Champion's behalf." She said, pointing to Helmsworth body on the sand being cared for by the helpers.
"I know this breaks with centuries of tradition, but I ask this in the spirit of fairness so that we may have a true victory by the end of the Trials," she said, the words to say escaping her lips.
The crowd fell dead silent save be for the whipping flames of torches in their sconces. The Princess' belly pitted, and she began to waver as she searched for the right things to tell them. But just as she was about to let the doubts win, a single clap reverberated among the stands. Soon, one clap became two claps and suddenly a wave of applause swelled among the people.
Humbled by their acceptance, the princess braced her hands against her bosom and spoke again. "I thank thee all for your graciousness and with that, I promise that as Heir Apparent, the trials, when they commence will be one to that legends are made of. Let us retire from this place and let the feasts begin!" she finished with a humble curtsey. By her royal decree, droves of people began to clear the stands as they made their way to the party pavilions, makeshift markets, and camps.
With that business resolved, the princess turned her attention back to her friends and the healing cleric.
"We are ready, Your Grace, whenever you are. To take him back to the castle where he will be taken care of." The sagely man offered.
With a nod the princess granted their leave. The attendants listened and carefully lifted Link onto a stretcher, carrying him away with the Cleric guiding them along the way.
As the princess' friends cleared out before her, all that remained standing in the arena was Jun, still looking on as they hauled off his Sir. Zelda spun to face him curiously. " Is everything alright, Jun?" the princess said, offering him a warm and inviting smile.
Jun nodded. Wiping his eyes yet again and as he was about to speak, something or someone caught his attention from among the stands. A lone figure hiding in the shadows. Frozen in his gaze, Jun couldn't speak.
Zelda stepped closer, ever so kindly beside him. "Jun?" she turned to face where he was looking at but couldn't see what he saw and the boy shook it off, speaking up.
"It's nothing, sorry. It's just that—"
"—You're worried about Helmsworth, huh?" Zelda asked, leaning over to meet him face to face.
"Y—yes."
"Well, don't you worry, he is in capable hands now, I am confident. How about I go along with you to wait with him?"
Jun nodded. But then instantly regrated it. "Actually, I uh—"
"—What is it? Is something else the matter?"
"I just remembered that I have to fetch Shywind, my master's trusty steed. He'll be wanting her when he wakes. I won't take long. I'll meet you there."
"Oh, okay, then" Zelda said, sort of confused by the boy's sudden change of heart.
Jun stepped nearer and tugged on her gown. "Promise me you'll keep a close look after him until I arrive. Please."
"I promise," she said, this time leaning to offer him a hug. "You're a good squire, Jun. one who remembers to keep his duties even at a time like this. I'm sure, he'll be proud of you when he wakes up."
Jun only nodded. And with that a remaining retainer of guardsman escorted the princess back to the castle, leaving Jun alone in the eerie quiet of the arena. He was awash in a mix of emotions as he stood their alone to contemplate his feelings. Could he really be caring for this Knight? But, then again, he did save his life. There's no arguing that. He couldn't be bad like the others if he risked his own life for his, right? Why would he do that if he was evil like the rest? And then there was the princess with her warm embrace that could have only harbored feelings of kindness and welcoming. They were nothing like the stories he heard about or what he experienced with others. The boy squeezed and shook his head, restless and torn between duty and friendship.
It was then he was interrupted. It didn't take long until after everyone left that Jun heard a cold round of applause come from an illusive figure rounding a shadowy corner. The man came from behind him, offering a series of delayed mocking claps that echoed throughout the dim and silent arena.
The slender man chided him. "A stirring performance …or am I to think those tears are real?"
"Shut up," Jun defended, quickly resolving himself to look tougher than he was.
The man held his hands up in a gesture of playfulness. "Hey, I'm on your side remember? No need to pretend anymore, we're alone now."
Jun could only look away, somewhat disgusted by him.
"You know, a thank-you would be nice. Your new friend was careless and would've botched our plans if it weren't for what I did back there. You owe me." The man then revealed as if out of thin air a puff of smoke in hands a shiny, small, sickle-like dagger. The boy's mind seemed to be elsewhere.
"Don't forget what we are here for and don't be getting any ideas," he said, followed by an awkward pause. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?" the man interrogated, wielding the dagger to glisten in the boy's face.
Jun just ignored him, still stewing in his thoughts.
"I shouldn't be worried about where your loyalties lie, right?" the man insisted.
Jun looked away again defiantly.
The man vanished the dagger in a small cloud and pressed firmly against the boys shirt. "Don't forget who they are, what they did to us, to you! These hylian scum deserve every bit of what's coming to them. Their reckoning will be soon."
Jun shoved him. "I know, okay! You said it yourself, I'm convincing."
"Yeah, perhaps a little too convincing for my liking," the man said, dusting himself off.
Jun shoved past him again, this time bolting away to leave the arena. "Just stay away and let me do what the sensei has asked me to do!"
The man could only glower as he also slipped away, trusting that the lad will have the courage to do what needs done when the time came. Destiny was uncertain and only time will tell where the lines will be drawn.
Jun ran to where the stables were, hoping to find Shywind there. Thoughts of dread were still swirling in his mind that he desperately wanted to shake. Ugh, this isn't the time to dwell on it. Besides, the Trial doesn't end for a few more days anyway, there was no rush to make a choice now. Things might change before then anyway, and maybe nobody has to die, he thought hopefully. Though he knew otherwise. After all, we could all use a few more days.
Authors Note: Short chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. The ending of this arc will be wrapping up soon with the next couple chapters. Let me know your thoughts in the comments, it really helps the story reach more people and inspires me to press on and get these out on time. Until we meet again, I thank you all. Stay well wherever you are in Hyrule.