Zelda cried out and reflexively cradled her head with her hands as the exhaustion from her telepathic calls suddenly turned to the sharpest pain she'd ever felt. It extended to her whole head from her forehead to the base of her neck and down both sides, making even her jaw ache, and it was intense enough to make her wonder how much worse pain would have to be to be fatal. It was slowly, very slowly, fading away now that she had stopped calling out again.
She looked up when she felt capable of it again. The guard, an armored knight armed with a wicked looking mace and whose face was fully concealed by his helmet, hadn't moved: as far as Zelda could guess, his instructions were limited to making sure she remained in her cell and nothing else.
She assumed he'd only react if someone showed up to save her, or if she somehow managed to let herself out of her cell.
Not that there was any hope of THAT. The door was solid, the bars were solid, and the lock was unbreakable. She was not getting out of here without help, which meant that unless she did get help, Aghanim would have his way: she would die and her death would free Ganon to ravage Hyrule.
Thus her desperate telepathic calls for help. She had no chance of reaching the ears of any potential ally, so she had been calling out to their minds with her own, hoping both that some people would hear and that some among them would be able to reach her.
The calls, however, appeared to be at an end. She hadn't even been able to send out three full words this time, and she had been resting for a while since her previous attempt.
She supposed it hardly mattered. If someone was going to hear her, by now they had heard her.
She knew the next steps after her hypothetical rescue: she'd thought it over, and she had a plan, and she truly believed that plan might work to save Hyrule.
She'd first need to get to safety: that was the easiest part, she knew where to go and how to get there.
After that, Aghanim's dark magic and Ganon's evil would need to be countered. She knew what was needed for THAT as well, and she knew how it could be secured.
She'd thought it all through already, and all she could do now was wait, and pray for Hyrule and herself both. At this point, it was the same thing. Either she survived and so did Hyrule, or she perished, and Ganon destroyed everything. She wasn't selfless enough not to care for her life for its own sake, but she didn't need to probe her own motivations in this case – her fate, more than she would ever have thought possible, was directly linked to that of the Kingdom.
"Please..." she muttered, huddled in the corner of her cell with her head still in her hands. "Please, Dearest Hylia, we need a hero..."
The blood-stained stairs led Link to a door, through which he could hear the ongoing rain and frequent peals of thunder. Reasoning that the door probably led outside, he willed his lamp off and hooked it on his belt: it was best not to be too highly visible until he had a better idea of how many of the guards and knights were under the same spell as Sir Gavan, who'd stopped Link and attacked him at the main gate.
The memory drew a snarl to Link's lips. Sir Gavan was being manipulated, his own will erased by some kind of curse that made him betray his oaths and help the enemy, and that also made him a senseless puppet. It was a hideous crime against a valiant knight, and it was a vicious insult to all knights to have such capable people at your disposal and to merely use them as so much brainless muscle.
He suddenly thought that one of those helpless puppets, or more likely several of them, had still managed to murder his uncle. His hand froze on the handle of the door, his eyes flooded with tears and his chest heaved with a heavy sob. He clenched his hand on the handle, along with every muscle in his body, and forced his thoughts on his mission.
The Princess was in the dungeon, desperately calling for help. He had to save her. For all he knew, every last knight and guard within the castle and its grounds was under the same spell Sir Gavan was: he couldn't count on anyone else rescuing the Princess. He HAD to save her. She didn't deserve to be alone and scared, and she obviously didn't deserve to be in danger. He wasn't going to stand for it, he was putting a stop to it, he was saving her. Even if it wasn't official yet, he was just as good as sworn to protect her, and he would protect her and save her, because he couldn't even conceive of doing anything else.
He couldn't save his uncle. He could cry for him, sob until his chest hurt and cry every tear in his body, and all that would do was that he'd be found and killed by a bespelled guard. It wouldn't do his uncle any good, and it wouldn't even please his spirit. But Link COULD save the Princess. His uncle had even used his dying breath to ask him to do just that.
He WOULD save the Princess. He wiped the tears out of his eyes and took several deep breaths.
Once he was steady enough again, he opened the door by a slant and peeked outside. Other than the rain and the thunder, there was no noise, and there was no light betraying a lamp nearby. It seemed like there were no guards in the immediate vicinity. He readied his uncle's sword and shield and pushed the door open with his foot.
Nothing jumped at him. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
He stepped out, shield up, sword ready, ears peeled and eyes scanning his surroundings.
He'd come out from what he had always assumed was some kind of storage shed. He was in the main courtyard, in a nook surrounded on three sides by the walls of the castle itself. The main entrance to the castle was to his right, not far from the end of the nook he was in. There were no guards around that he could see or hear.
The fact he couldn't hear anything probably meant the guards and knights were not engaged in combat at the moment, which meant they were all on the same side, or at least all the living ones were on the same side. Judging by what he'd seen so far, he could only assume that side was the enemy's.
Did that mean the spell really had ensnared everyone? That would be bad, it would mean the enemy was incredibly powerful. Or did it mean anyone who had escaped it was now dead? Link gulped at the thought. Losing his uncle was bad enough, he really hoped that Sir Gedion was at least the only casualty.
Or maybe some of the trainees and guards and knights were still free but hiding? They wouldn't be, would they? Guards and fellow knights, and even the other trainees, wouldn't cower away while Sir Gedion was being murdered and the Princess was trapped in the dungeon and desperately calling for help... would they?
The thought made his lip curl up again. He'd never forgive them if it turned out others were just as free as he was and hiding instead of trying to help.
And yet that was still the best scenario. He'd be glad to be angry at a bunch of people and to never deign to even talk to them again, because at least they'd be alive for him to be disgusted with. And if they were in their right mind and hiding, they would at least not be attacking him, too.
And if nobody else was dead, and nobody was hiding, it would mean they were all the enemy's puppets, just like Sir Gavan.
Link knew there were currently twenty-three active knights: it was a relatively rare honor. He always thought of himself as a knight in training, but really, most trainees didn't become knights, they just became guards until they earned a knighthood, and many never did. Twenty-three was more than enough to stop one trainee from infiltrating the dungeons if they all came after him, even if every one of them was as impaired by the spell controlling them as Sir Gavan was. And then there were the guards: Link didn't know how many of them there were, but it was a lot. Finally, even the trainees would be an issue if he ran into them: he was one of fifteen in his batch, and there were three batches. Three times fifteen was forty-five, forty-four excluding himself, and that was too many potential enemies.
He shivered, and didn't bother trying to kid himself that it was because of the cold rain. Twenty-three knights, forty-four fellow trainees and who knew how many guards... if they were all bespelled, how in the world was he going to make it to the dungeons?
He shook his head to chase the thought. Thinking that you were doomed was always a self- fulfilling prophecy, his uncle said so all the time.
He mentally corrected himself: his uncle HAD said so all the time. His upper lip curled even as his eyes threatened to flood again. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he had lost his uncle, it wasn't fair that Sir Gedion had died, and it wasn't fair that whoever had done it would either be under a spell for the rest of their lives or recover and never forgive themselves for their crime.
He clenched his jaw and gripped his sword and shield tighter. He couldn't think of this right now. He couldn't think of his uncle, or of any of his friends or acquaintances who might either be under a spell or hurt or dead. And he couldn't think of his odds of success because thinking about them could only make them worse.
He had a job, he had a mission, and more importantly, the Princess needed him. There was no time for idle thoughts and guessing games and recriminations and questions. For now, the only reasonable course of action was simply to avoid bumping into any guard or knight.
He crept to the corner made by the wall and peeked around it towards the main entrance, only to suddenly curse under his breath: he'd forgotten that the decorative hedges leading to the main entrance were tight to the walls. The one on this side was blocking his way, and his view.
He looked around and, still not seeing any guards, padded to the spot where the decorative hedge met the wall.
The hedge was basically shaped bushes, so he looked near the ground and by the wall for a spot where the branches weren't as tight and where he might be able to squeeze through.
There was no such spot.
He nervously looked around again, making sure he was still unnoticed. He really didn't want to have to fight anyone, and at the same time, he knew that if he had to, he would. He'd be a worse traitor than the people who hadn't gotten a choice if he decided to let the enemy win just because he didn't want to fight someone he knew. And besides, the Princess needed him.
She hadn't called out in a while... not since her voice inside his mind had cut off mid word. Link felt his heart start to hammer in his chest as panic tried to grip him. He had no way to know whether she was still alive. He might be too late, he might have failed, Princess Zelda might be just as gone as his uncle.
He heard himself whimper and slapped his hand against his mouth. No, no, no. He couldn't think like that. She was fine. She had to be. He was going to save her, she was going to be just fine.
He examined the wall, looking for something he could grip to climb it and go over the hedge. Climbing the hedge itself was impossible: the branches would just break under his weight, it would make a racket, and he'd be discovered.
Unfortunately, climbing the wall was complicated by the pouring rain that was making it slick as ice.
Link held his breath as he spotted a potential solution: the wall actually went inward a bit at around the height of his head, so just a bit lower than the top of the hedge. The architectural detail provided a narrow angled ledge he might be able to use.
He put his hands on the ledge and tried to pull himself up. His hands immediately slipped right off. He scowled at the wall and stuffed his fist into his mouth to stifle his scream of frustration.
A peel of thunder answered the silent scream. The Princess remained silent.
Link took a deep breath. He needed to hurry. He could be frustrated later, for now he needed to just adapt to whatever went wrong and to keep going.
He started making his way away from the wall, following the decorative hedge, walking slowly and looking intently at the bushes to try and find and opening. He reached the end of the edge without finding one.
Sighing, he dropped to the ground to make himself less visible and peeked around the corner. He saw armored boots pointing his way and didn't even have time to pull his head back behind the hedge: the point of a spear materialized a finger's width from his nose and the guards' voice resounded from right above Link's head.
"INTRUDER!"
Link naturally had a fight or flight reflex that leaned very strongly towards "fight", and his training had always nurtured rather than balanced that.
He grabbed the spear, yanked it to the side and used it as leverage to jump up and tackle the guard. He got a good look then at the unfortunate bespelled soldier and knew his name: Anwu. He wasn't a close friend, but he was, like Sir Gavan, a familiar face and seeing it turned to the enemy's whims lit Link's heart on fire again. This wasn't right. Enslaving people like that, turning them against their friends and the people they had sworn loyalty to, turning them into potential murderers! It was wrong, it was too wrong, it was disgusting.
Anwu staggered back from the tackle enough for Link to shove his way past him, towards the main entrance to the castle. He was not fond of running away from anything, but in this case, avoiding a fight was the only acceptable option.
If Sir Gavan was anything to go by, Anwu would lose interest as soon as Link was out of sight, so if he could just reach the door and get in, neither he nor Anwu would have to hurt each other.
Something suddenly crashed on his back, sending him to the ground. He just managed to roll sideways and narrowly avoided getting pinned under Anwu, who'd just tackled him from behind.
"FILTHY INTRUDER!" Anwu bellowed. "DIE!"
The bespelled guard followed the injunction by attempting to skewer Link to the ground with his spear.
Link yelped and just managed to roll out of the way again. That would have been a fatal blow: Anwu had just genuinely tried to kill him, and nearly succeeded. It shouldn't have been a shock, Link had expected pretty much exactly that. The bespelled guards had killed his uncle, of course they were dangerous.
Or more precisely, Link had thought he'd expected it: as it turned out, the factual knowledge had completely failed to prepare him for the moment it actually happened. Sir Gavan's attack had been reluctant and half hearted, meant to drive him away more than anything else. And in the back of his mind, somewhere deep in his subconscious thoughts, Link had believed everyone would hesitate just like Sir Gavan had, because he was just a kid.
That delusion was now gone. Avoiding the guards and running was even more important than he'd been willing to realize so far, because some, maybe even most, of them would not be trying to hurt him or detain him: they'd be going straight for the kill.
He should have known this. They'd murdered his uncle, a partly disabled, retired, respected and honored KNIGHT. Of COURSE they wouldn't hesitate to kill him too. It didn't matter that he was a kid, or a trainee: they were under an evil spell compelling them to kill intruders, and as far as they were concerned, that's all he was, and that's all his uncle had been.
The past tense that was already becoming automatic when thinking of his uncle hurt his chest. He clenched his jaw, grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at Anwu's face before jumping back to his feet and bolting for the castle's door.
Anwu screamed something unintelligible and ran right after him, but the dirt had bought Link enough of a lead to reach the castle's door before Anwu had quite caught up. He pushed the door open and squeezed inside before hastily leaning back on the door to close it in Anwu's face.
Anwu's yells stopped: just like Sir Gavan had, he'd lost interest as soon as his foe was out of sight. Link sighed in relief and turned his head to look at the entrance hall he was now in.
His heart jumped in his throat: there were several guards roaming the hall, and even a knight. Link knew all their faces, although he only knew the names of the knight – Sir Alfir – and one guard: Bulika. Thankfully, none of them were looking his way.
All Link had to do was make it to one of the doors to the side hallways. He knew the dungeons were in the basement somewhere, and he knew the only staircase to the lower levels was in the back of the castle, in a service hallway that connected to the side hallways.
He looked around for the nearest door and spotted one to his left, maybe about thirty paces away. He sped walked to hide behind a column that was between the front door and his objective and poked his head out to observe the guards and Sir Alfir.
They weren't coordinated at all, which was yet another insult to how capable they were when not under a spell scrambling their brains. They soon all had their backs turned to him, leaving nearly a full quarter of the room out of their collective sight.
Link ran for it and ducked into the left side hallway.
He nearly collided with a guard walking steps away from the door.
Link froze and stared at the guard. It was actually one of the captains, Derris.
Captain Derris stared at Link.
Link was suddenly struck by a desperate idea: pretending he worked for the enemy as well. The idea, as obvious as it was, was a desperate one in his case because he was absolutely not a good actor. He took a deep breath and straightened his stance.
"I… I was ordered here!" he said. It was almost true, but Link still found it difficult to get the words out without stammering.
"By whom?" Derris asked.
Link's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He obviously couldn't admit the Princess had called him for help, but he couldn't think of what to say instead. He wasn't good at making things up, never had been.
Derris drew his sword and pointed it straight at Link's throat. "BY WHOM?" he asked again.
Link cried out the first thing that came to mind. "I don't know!"
"DIE, FILTHY INTRUDER!" Derris bellowed.
Link dropped sideways to avoid the thrust towards his throat. That had been a killing blow again. He needed to get past Derris, and to outrun him, but the Captain was positioned right in Link's way and there was no hope of slipping past him, much less escaping him, unless Link somehow slowed him down.
He knew of a few ways to do that. He settled on the one that would keep Derris from chasing him without putting his life in danger.
"I'm really, really sorry about this…" he muttered. He dropped to the floor from the crouch he was already in and, lying on his side, hooked one foot behind Derris's ankle and with his other foot, kicked the front of the Captain's knee as hard as he could. This was a move he'd been trained in: leg armors had joints at the knees, allowing the wearers to walk freely but also creating a weak point against blunt force: if you hit hard enough, you could force the knee to bend backwards.
There was a sickening crunching sound and Derris howled. Link bolted down the hall. Derris's sword flew past him and fell to the floor a few steps ahead, having missed him by about a hand's width.
The commotion was more than enough to alert two more guards who had been wandering further down the hall. They turned towards Link and one drew his sword while the other pointed his spear at the intruder.
Link swallowed. He didn't know how much of their skills the bespelled guards and knights retained, so he didn't know how his own would measure up in an actual fight. Modesty put aside, he was one of the best trainees, but he was still not done training. He therefore had no idea how he'd fare against experienced guards and knights who may not be at their best but might not be so far off their game as to lose a fight to a trainee.
It didn't matter that much anyway, because he didn't want to fight them. He didn't want to hurt any more of them, and he certainly didn't want to die at their hands.
He veered left, hugging the wall on one side of the relatively wide hallway. The two guards – Link didn't know their names, although he recognized their faces – ran towards him. Link kept running too, until at the last possible second, just as he was about to meet the point of the spear headed his way, he dove to the right into a roll.
He came out of the roll at a run, speeding towards the end of the hallway. Something grazed the side of his leg, bringing a sharp bolt of pain and causing that leg to buckle slightly on the next step. He just caught himself and made it to the end of the hallway.
The service door was to his right, a plain wooden door with no markings and no door handle. He knew from having seen several similar ones that the hinges on it allowed it to open both ways, so he barely slowed down, hitting the door shoulder first and running right through.
He ran a few more steps before he turned around: there was nobody behind him. The guards had once again stopped pursuing once Link had left their immediate surroundings.
A quick glance down the service hall revealed neither servants nor guards in sight. The hall was otherwise identical to the one Link had just left with the same lush carpet, painted walls and molding: you would only recognize it as a service hall if you noticed that there were a lot of less paintings, vases and other decorative items.
Link looked at his wounded leg: it was bleeding a bit, but not severely. He tore a strip off the bottom of his undershirt and bandaged the cut anyway: no bleeding was always better than not much bleeding.
To Link, the light injury felt like a warning from fate itself that worse would come if he didn't shape up.
It wasn't reasonable to hope not to run into any other guard or knight. How many would he be able to squeeze past before one of them managed to take him down?
The thought made his jaw clench. This wasn't right, he shouldn't be wondering whether his friends and allies would manage to kill him. Having to fight enemies was one thing, but this... this was an unforgiveable offense by whoever had taken over the castle.
Link snarled. He wasn't going to let them get away with this. He was going to rescue the Princess, and as much as possible, he was going to do it without fighting a single victim of the enemy's compulsion spell. He just needed to figure out a way to trick the enchanted guards and knights into thinking he was on their side. He resumed walking while he thought, moving as fast as he could while not stomping like he would if he ran.
There was no way around it no matter how much he thought about his strategy: he needed to lie, and he needed to lie convincingly. Considering how bad he was at improvisation, lying and acting, and that he had no idea who to pretend to be working for, that was not going to be easy.
He was soon in front of the staircase he'd been looking for. It was in an alcove set into the outside wall, a spiral staircase leading to the first basement. Link wasn't sure how to get to the dungeons from there, but he didn't know of any other way to get into the basement at all, so using this staircase was the only path opened to him.
He padded down the stone stairs carefully, and flattened himself against the wall to look at where he was arriving and whether there were any guards around.
There were no guard in his immediate field of vision. He exited the staircase with his heart hammering. He'd have been less nervous at the prospect of fighting than he was at the prospect of having to pretend to be something he wasn't if he ran into someone.
The staircase had left him into another hallway, but this one was clearly even less meant for casual traffic than the one he'd just left: there was no carpeting here, and the walls were plain plaster.
He could go either left, right or straight ahead. He chose left.
He passed several closed doors which could be servant bedrooms or various utility rooms, and eventually found himself in an open dining area announced several steps ahead by the mouth watering smells of baked bread, roasted meat and fruit pies drifting down the hallway. Link swallowed: he was hungry, but his stomach was definitely the least of his concerns right now.
The room was large, but still just barely accommodated four large tables, a series of buffets and too many chairs for Link to bother counting.
Besides, he didn't really have time to count anything right now, because several of the chairs were occupied by kitchen staff who were now staring at him.
"Ah… hi? I mean… greetings!" Link said, once again puffing himself up to try and look confident. "I'm here… err… on order! That is RIGHT. On order. From..." he trailed off: he still hadn't figured out who he could pretend was his master.
Three of the staff were up and pointing impressively large kitchen knives at him already. That confirmed they were under a spell: staff in their right mind would not be getting ready to attack a kid just for trespassing. They'd give him a lecture, one would probably be enough of a softie to give him a pastry, and they'd shoo him away. Threatening him meant they were bespelled, just like the guards and knights.
"From whom?" one of them asked.
"Are you serving Aghanim?" another added, taking a step towards him.
Link didn't have to think too hard on this one: Aghanim had been defeated, he knew that much from the Princess attempting to explain what had happened to the wizard. Therefore, claiming to serve him would be just as bad as admitting he was serving the Princess. The question was clearly a trap. "ABSOLUTELY NOT!" he said, putting all the fake outrage he could into his voice and his face.
He yelped as all the knife wielding staff members rushed for him, jumping out of their chairs. Obviously, Link had once again miserably failed at lying convincingly. He grabbed a free nearby chair and threw it towards the staff members, then turned tail and ran back down the hallway.
He was getting quite tired of running, but the alternative was fighting friends and allies who weren't responsible for their actions, so he would run as much as he had to. He dove back into the stairway and ran up a few steps so he wouldn't be visible from the hallway.
He heard the footsteps and shouts from the kitchen staff stop almost instantly. After a moment, quieter steps resumed and gradually faded as the staff went back to the common eat-in area. Link waited a few minutes then climbed the stairs back down and poked his head out to make sure the hallway was empty again.
It was, so he exited the stairway again, this time going to the right.
He needed to come up with a cover story he could recite convincingly, he couldn't keep having to run, it was wasting way too much time and it might even keep him away from where he needed to go. It was also entirely possible he'd eventually not be ABLE to run, and then he'd have to fight and he absolutely didn't want that. Fighting without being able to escape would mean hurting someone again, possibly worse than he had hurt Captain Derris, or being killed himself.
Just like his uncle had been. The thought caused his throat to tighten and stopped his feet for a moment. He clenched his fists on his weapons and forced himself to keep moving.
The other problem with running was that even if he was able to escape every time, running meant possibly missing out on the path to the dungeons, and THAT could mean wandering the castle halls forever without finding the Princess, until it was too late.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine: what if the path to the dungeons was just past the kitchen? Maybe the hallways looped back and he'd eventually find himself there anyway. But if he did, would he run into more knife wielding staff? Would he be able to zip past them and into a staircase fast enough for them to lose sight of him?
And even if the stairway to the dungeons was not in the kitchen, what if it was guarded? Or just happened to have people near it?
Lie, he reminded himself. That was the solution: he needed to lie, he needed to pass for a servant of whoever was manipulating everyone. It was just a shame that he was about as likely to pull that off as a fish was to pull off climbing a tree.
His thoughts strayed back to the present moment. The hallway was empty so far, and he'd passed nothing but closed doors. He considered trying to open every last one of them, but elected not to: the odds of finding someone on the other side were much higher than those of finding a stairwell behind a random door that looked just like all the other ones.
Hopefully, the stairwell was either not behind a door or if it was, it was indicated somehow, or behind a door that looked different than all the other ones.
He noticed he was still tip toeing and clenched his jaw: this was way too slow. Being quiet was good when it came to avoiding notice, but being slow was not an option when the Princess was in danger. She still hadn't called again, and he didn't know WHY. The telepathy might have tired her out, it was probably hard to do even for people who could do it at all. So she might just be tired. But... she might...
He shook his head before the thought fully formed. He couldn't think like that. She was fine. She had to be, because he was going to save her, and she would be all right, and she would set things right again and maybe he'd even be able to help her with that. The King might be with her yet, or maybe she knew where he was, and Link could rescue him next.
However, as much as he refused to admit to the possibility he was already too late, he couldn't shake the idea that he MIGHT be too late if he didn't hurry.
Was his desire not to be discovered really more important than rescuing the Princess in time? Of course it wasn't.
He took off running, eyes peeled for a different looking door or an exposed staircase.
For once tonight, luck was on his side: he found the staircase right after turning a corner that brought him to a hallway he assumed ran parallel to the castle's west outside wall. The stairwell was straight, set in a small enclave in the hallways' inner wall to Link's left, and was only lit by a single torch halfway down its length. The opening on the lower level wasn't visible from the top.
Link barely slowed down, nearly running straight down the dark stairwell to the unknown, and quickly found himself in a small room made entirely of cut stones, with one stone door on the right wall from where Link was, one on the far wall, and, unfortunately, a guard right in the way.
Said guard turned towards the noise of someone clambering down the stairs and without so much as a cry or a demand to know who Link was, ran towards him spear first.
Link dove to the side and ran for the closest door, the one on the right wall. The handle refused to budge in his hand: it was locked. Hearing steps behind him, Link threw himself sideways again, towards the second door on the back wall. He felt something sharp graze his hip.
He tried the handle on the second door: it didn't budge.
He turned around just in time to block the spear with his uncle's shield, and finally got a look at the guard's face.
Link's eyes widened: that was Yavvo, one of the swordplay teachers and one of the top three swordsmen in the whole kingdom. And here he was with a spear of all things, attacking one of his students on sight.
"Teach?" Link said. Maybe he could reason with him. Sir Gavan had resisted a bit, maybe Yavvo could as well. He completely forgot to try lying. "It's me, Link! One of the trainees?"
"DIE!" Yavvo roared. He thrust the spear forward, hitting Link's shield again.
The hit was hard enough to hurt Link's shield arm. He gulped. He HAD to convince Yavvo to stop attacking, especially since the swordsman probably had the keys to the doors out of here. He suddenly remembered his half formed plan to lie any guard he ran into.
He braced himself. "Stop attacking, you... you fool!"
Link winced even as he said it. Yavvo was NOT a fool, Link had nothing but respect for the man. But he wasn't talking to the master swordman or the teacher right now, not really: the spell Yavvo was under buried the true nature of the man under itself. And if he kept telling himself that, Link just might be able not to feel too bad for insulting his teacher and lying to him.
Yavvo responded by trying to skewer Link through his shield again, with another roar of "DIE!"
"I... I'm looking for... err... the Wizard!" Link improvised. "So, er... let me through?"
Yavvo stopped and frowned. "What?" he asked.
Link gulped again. Yavvo, bespelled as he was, would consider Aghanim, the King's most trusted adviser and right hand man, the enemy. And more precisely, would consider the wizard an already defeated enemy. "He... he escaped! Yeah, that's it, he... he's loose. So I... I need to go to... the dungeons! Yeah! To..."
Yavvo screamed again and this time, there wasn't even a recognizable word in the sound. He redoubled his attacks.
Link cursed himself for his continued lack of acting skills as he desperately cowered behind his shield. He wasn't sure what would break first: the spear or the shield, and he couldn't afford to wait to find out anyway.
He extended his left leg out to the side and then swiftly swept it across, lifting it slightly to hit Yavvo's right ankle as hard as he could.
Yavvo, demonstrating absolutely none of his usual perfect stance and stability, fell over with another roar. Link jumped on him, pinning him to the ground, and started searching him for the keys to the locked doors.
The keys weren't around Yavvo's neck, nor on his belt. Searching the pockets proved to be too awkward: Yavvo managed to throw him off almost as soon as Link started trying them.
Link rolled behind his shield again.
"The keys... where are the keys, Teach?" he asked. "Come on... you can beat this. Just give me the keys and I'll leave and you'll forget about me, just like the other guards."
Yavvo barked a laugh.
"You will die in this room, worm," he said.
And he charged again, another completely uninspired attack with a weapon Yavvo never used if he had a choice. Link blocked it again, and grinned when he heard a snap: the spear had broken.
Yavvo growled and tossed it aside.
"You lost your weapon," Link said, getting up from his crouch and pointing his sword at Yavvo. "Yield. Give me the keys. Please."
Yavvo snarled and drew his own sword. His stance immediately changed to his usual fighting stance: the curse on him might have robbed him of most of his brains, but it seemed like his muscle memory, when he had a sword in hand, was strong enough to shine through.
Link's heart started hammering. This was bad. This was very, very bad.
He couldn't die here. He hadn't run into a single person who wasn't being controlled by whatever evil had seized the castle other than his uncle and himself. That meant there was a really good chance he was Princess Zelda's last hope.
He couldn't fail her. He had to save her. Therefore, he could NOT die.
He glanced at the stairs, debating whether he should run and look for another way to the dungeons. He never got a chance to reach a decision: Yavvo rushed him.
Link blocked with his shield and tried to circle the ensnared teacher, aiming to keep his path to the stairs open. He didn't really want to run back upstairs: he was not at all confident he'd find another way to this level or to the dungeon, and he was pretty sure that even if he did, that hypothetical other way would be guarded too. It still seemed like having the option was better than not having it.
The truth was that Link really didn't know what to do. Running seemed like a terrible idea, yes. But staying seemed like an even worse option because staying meant letting Yavvo kill him or hurting the swordman severely enough to not only steal his keys but to buy enough time to actually use them and escape.
In the end, how Link felt about the potential escape route didn't matter: Yavvo moved to block the staircase, glaring daggers at Link.
"Intruder! Enemy! DIE!" the magically controlled guard and teacher snarled.
He attacked then, and Link barely managed to block the strike. The fact he'd managed at all was proof that even with some of his muscle memory intact, his teacher wasn't fighting as well as normal.
"Teach, PLEASE!" Link begged. "It's me, Link! You know me! I'm Sir Ge..." his throat closed on the name. He swallowed. "I'm Sir Gedion's nephew!"
"Intruder. Enemy!"
Link screamed and dove, just avoiding the wide swipe aimed straight at his neck. While he was down, he tackled Yavvo's legs, bringing the swordman down. He tried to reach a pocket he hadn't searched yet but his teacher once again threw him off, this time with an uppercut that sent Link flopping backwards with his head ringing.
He rolled blindly out of habit: you never want to stay where you fell when fighting. Doesn't matter how hurt you are. The sword meant to impale him to the floor just grazed his arm.
Link crouched behind his shield again. He had bit his tongue and his mouth tasted like blood. He wasn't sure if it was just his tongue or if some of his teeth were loose: none of them had straight up come out, there was at least that.
He knew he had to do something about Yavvo, and the more time he wasted denying the obvious, the more likely he was to be too late or even too dead to save the Princess.
If he didn't want to die here, Link was going to have to take advantage of the fact his teacher was not at his best right now to hurt him. He was going to have to take advantage of Yavvo's reduced skills to incapacitate him long enough to search him for the keys and to get out.
The thought turned Link's stomach. Yavvo had taught him a lot, and once this was over, would teach him and the other trainees even more. He was a good man, and he was an excellent swordsman. And right now, Link was going to have to disable him, and there was no telling whether whatever injuries Link dealt would heal fully and properly. He wanted to believe that they would, with some potion, but he knew very well that even potion did not cure everything perfectly.
While he was turning this over in his head, Yavvo's attacks were increasing in ferocity if not in diversity. Yavvo seemed to be trying to hack THROUGH Link's shield; he was being as ineffective as someone who'd never been trained for combat at all.
Not that it mattered if Link continued to just stand there and let his shield take hit after hit: the sword WOULD get through eventually, and even if it didn't, the Princess was still in the dungeon, at the mercy of whoever had put her there, and Link couldn't afford to stay here with Yavvo any longer.
He jumped forward, rushing Yavvo with his shield and throwing the bespelled swordsman off balance. Without missing a beat, Link thrust with his sword at his teacher's shoulder. The blade slipped right through the armor's joint and into the flesh.
Link felt the resistance as the sword went in: it was denser than the straw dummies they practiced on. The other difference with the dummies was the blood: as much as Link had known that there was going to be blood, seeing it pour from an injury he'd inflicted on his own teacher still shocked him.
Yavvo howled and dropped his sword, his arm suddenly hanging uselessly at his side.
Link jumped back, pulling his sword out of the guard's shoulder. The blood went from a spreading stain to a gush. Yavvo staggered to his knees, his opposite hand going to his shoulder and his eyes glassy.
Link stared in shock: that was too much blood. He must have hit an artery, or some kind of big vein: he had no idea, he was doing terrible in his anatomy lessons.
He clenched his jaw and took a step towards Yavvo to start searching him while he was in shock. And maybe he'd be able to bandage him or something, after. That was a big maybe but it was a pleasant one to believe in.
Just then, the guard's injured arm vanished altogether, along with the blood, and Yavvo stood, picking up his sword from the floor with his remaining arm. His eyes were clear again and he didn't seem bothered at all anymore.
Link raised his shield strictly thanks to his training: he wouldn't have if he'd had to think about it because thinking was not something he could do right now. Yavvo's arm had vanished: no matter what happened next, Yavvo the master swordsman and swordplay teacher no longer had a sword arm. And it was Link's fault.
And even more disturbingly, Yavvo was now wielding the sword with his off hand and was STILL trying to kill Link, as if his missing arm was not at all a concern.
Link easily parried the next attack, and Yavvo dropped the sword. Link kicked it away and rushed Yavvo again, pinning him to the nearest wall.
"YIELD!" he pleaded again. "Just give me the keys and let me go! You can't kill me like this..."
"DEATH TO THE INTRUDER!" Yavvo roared, and with a mighty push off the wall, threw Link off before drawing his dagger and lunging at his opponent.
Again strictly out of reflex and instinct, Link pushed the incoming attack aside with what he had at his disposal on that side of his body: his sword.
The weapon cut partway through Yavvo's right arm, at the elbow, and blood gushed again.
Link stepped back and looked in horror as the bottom half of Yavvo's right arm disappeared just like his left arm had.
Yavvo ducked his head down and charged.
Link sidestepped him and tripped him, sending Yavvo sprawling on his face, and once again tackled him to the floor. He frantically searched Yavvo's pockets, until finally, his fingers closed on a single key lodged deep inside a hidden pocket under the guard's belt. He dragged it out and bolted for the closest door: the one on the right side of the room from the staircase.
The key worked, but Yavvo was up again. Link just barely had time to duck into the next room and close the door behind him. There was a loud thud as Yavvo impacted it.
Link gulped, panting and eyes wide. Yavvo had been charging with his head down again, and even with a helmet on, that HAD to hurt. He shook the thought off: there was nothing he could do about it, he needed to push on.
It was with that thought that his eyes registered his surroundings: he was in a small armory, so small in fact it only contained one wooden boomerang, painted blue and displayed on the wall like it was more treasure than weapon.
The only other thing in the room was a guard, who was already charging at Link with the now familiar roared demand that the intruder die.
Link jumped sideways to avoid the charge and ran for the boomerang. He'd heard of the magical boomerang that was in the Royal Family's possession: it was rumored to be able to immobilize enemies for a few seconds without harming them, a weapon to use when trying to show mercy or when facing an enemy that moved too fast for you. Up to this moment, he'd thought the boomerang was a legend. But now?
He thought this had to be it. Wishful thinking perhaps, but why else would one single boomerang be in a room of its own, under lock and key and with its own guard?
He sheathed his sword, grabbed the boomerang and turned around just in time: the guard was almost on him again. Link didn't know this one at all, he couldn't even honestly say that his face was familiar: chances were this room was a permanent post and the guard just didn't happen to mingle with trainees when not on duty.
Link threw the boomerang without having time to aim it properly. The guard was close enough that it didn't matter: the weapon hit him in the chest and he immediately, completely, froze in place. The boomerang, against all logic, came right back to Link's hand instead of clattering to the floor after hitting a solid object.
Link's eyes widened. He stepped sideways away from the guard, staring all the while. The guard was frozen leaning forward, one foot up and the other in the process of pushing from the ground. By all accounts, he should have fallen flat on his face if he'd just been paralyzed, which made it clear the boomerang did more than that: it stopped all movement, voluntary or not.
Link's hand tightened on it briefly, and he sighed in relief: this really was the legendary boomerang, it really could freeze foes... Link wouldn't have to hurt Yavvo anymore than he already had, and he wouldn't have to hurt anyone else! The sigh made way to a sob, and then before he knew it, Link's eyes were flooding with overwhelming relief.
He didn't have to hurt anyone else. It was going to be okay, he was going to be able to save the Princess without hurting anyone else, and they'd be able to escape, without hurting anyone else. He'd give anything not to have had to hurt Yavvo, especially since everything he'd done had resulted in far worse injuries than he'd have thought possible, but at least, at LEAST he wouldn't have to do anything like this again.
No more stabbing people's shoulders, no more breaking people's knees, he could avoid every fight from here on out. No one else would have to get hurt, no one else would have to die: not himself, and no bespelled guards or knights either.
"Thank Merciful Din," he choked out. "Sweet Hylia, thank merciful Din."
He took several deep breaths to calm himself down and wiped his eyes. He needed to hurry, the Princess was still in the dungeon and still in mortal peril.
As if to prove him right about the need for haste, the unknown's guard foot suddenly hit the floor. The freeze was wearing off already.
Link turned to face him again and threw the boomerang right back at him. The guard once again froze in mid motion, this time while turning around towards the intruder. The boomerang, once again in pure defiance of the laws of physics, returned neatly to Link's hand again.
Link turned back to the only door to the room, the one that would lead him back to where Yavvo was. He positioned himself to be hidden behind the door and pulled it opened. Something on the other side pushed against it, causing it to open faster than expected.
Link stepped back and looked around the door, boomerang ready and shield up. There was nothing at eye level. Link's eyes strayed down before his brains had a chance to advise against it.
Yavvo's body was on the floor, still propped slightly against the door, his head at an unnatural angle that just allowed for Link to be able to see the empty glare of the dead man.
One moment, Link was frozen nearly as well as if he'd been hit by the magical boomerang, staring at Yavvo. The next, he started shaking violently and he heard a whimper escape him.
The thud, earlier... the former swordplay teacher had rammed the door with his head and had broken his neck.
Yavvo was dead. Just like Link's uncle, another victim of the evil that had taken over the castle, except not really, was he? No, whoever the enemy was hadn't killed Yavvo.
Link had.
The dead man in the doorway, who had been an outstanding swordsman, a loyal guard and a well liked teacher; the man staring Link's way without seeing him, had first lost both his very talented hands and finally his life because of Link.
Link's eyes flooded again, this time in grief and overwhelming guilt, and he just managed to turn away from the body before his knees gave out, leaving him on all four. He threw up, over and over again. What was left of his last meal came out violently from both his mouth and his nose, and then bile and acid followed, burning his throat and his nostrils, and then dry heaves that brought up nothing but still wouldn't let up, and all the while he couldn't think of anything else than the fact he'd murdered Yavvo.
His thoughts finally stopped spinning around that when he heard the unknown guard move again. It was the jolt of adrenaline Link needed, an immediate threat that left his brains no choice but to focus.
He threw the boomerang at the guard again, caught it again, and stepped over Yavvo's body, turning right to get to the second door of the room where his teacher had died, serving evil against his will and paying the ultimate price for it.
Link unlocked the door to find another staircase.
The Princess. He had to save the Princess. The people who had captured her were the same people who had ensnared everyone so deeply that they'd attack friends and ally, and keep doing so even once there was no point anymore, right until death claimed them.
The thought that he had brought on that death for Yavvo made Link wince again. He shook his head against it: he was not guilty. He was NOT a murderer, he hadn't meant to hurt Yavvo any more than strictly necessary to save himself and by extension, the Princess. Things had only gone so badly because of the spell on Yavvo, and Link hadn't even dealt the killing blow, and even the injuries he had caused hadn't been meant to be so terrible, and he'd only done it because he'd had no choice at all. He hadn't murdered Yavvo, not really. And if he kept telling himself that, maybe he'd eventually believe it.
In the meantime, whoever had cast the spell on Yavvo and on the others was the reason all this was happening. THEY were guilty, more so than Link himself, no question. And the Princess, the pure perfect light of Hyrule, the one person in all of existence who most definitely should not be subjected to anything evil, was at their mercy.
He had to save her. He WOULD save her. Anything else was inconceivable. She had to be safe, for one thing, and also, if Link did not save her, if the unthinkable happened and she perished – a violent shudder ran through him at the thought – if that somehow happened, it would also mean that both his uncle and Yavvo had died for nothing.
He wasn't going to let that happen. He wasn't going to let ANY of that happen. He was going to save the Princess, he was going to help her save Hyrule in any way she needed, and the evil being responsible for all this was going to pay.
And if, once it was all over, Link had to pay for his crimes too, that was fine. In fact, the thought was oddly comforting.
Some notes!
1. Injuries just disappearing (along with the body part) is my attempt at replicating how the Hylian guards and knights' damage mechanic is basically the same as monsters: no effect after x-1 hits, dead after x hits. I think it's something Aghanim would do since the guards can take a licking and keep on ticking longer that way.
2. The first basement in the game is this weird area with some narrow paths and a lot of bottomless pits. Fun to navigate in game with a mild challenge, not the most likely or logical set of features for the actual first basement of a castle. I went with a service area instead.
3. Link keeps saying he's working against Aghanim because he thinks the enemy is as well. He's a terrible liar, but the enchanted guards are not exactly working at full brain capacity at the moment, so they actually DO believe him. Since Aghanim is their master, it's obviously not going to stop them attacking Link.