Chapter XX: Secrets

Documented in the year 1202 by the Royal Clerk Oren Gaothaire under His Majesty King Ansgar the Second, Seventh Ruler of Hyrule. Translated in the year 1698 from Old Hyrulian by Sir Gleyv of Brye, four hundred and ninety five years after the death of Clerk Oren Gaothaire.

Excerpt:

Several years have passed since the nomadic tribe of wanderers first ventured to Hyrule from the Westlands beyond the desert of the wild Gyerudo region. They call themselves ‘Shikara’ and are marked by peculiar and distinguishing features, most notably their reddish eyes and silver or gray hair. They are a short, slender people of bronze skin and delicate features, very quiet and observant among crowds. Some bear tattoos upon their faces, especially the females, who seem to be the dominant sex of the clan. The males often have tattoos upon the chest or back in the form of a single lidless eye. Sages are baffled at its meaning, though some have speculated that it has religious or spiritual significance.

The spoken language of the Shikara is soft and cursive, and there appears to be no indication of any written word among them, although they have certainly learned to read the Hyrulian language well enough, and some of the younger ones to even speak it.

Many of these people are well-practiced at playing musical instruments, especially curious stringed ones resembling harps and lyres. They seem to have an affinity for music and making instruments, which constitutes a majority of their livelihood in trade and sales. They are an industrious people who take great personal pride in their work and accomplishments.

Not only are they gifted in music, but also in astonishing dancing and acrobatics that rival the most fantastic circuses in all the land. They are equally incredible fighters and knife-makers, their specialty being hand to hand combat. It is quite impressive to see them training diligently each dawn. They are nimble and surefooted, stealthy and silent. Had they been just another band of common outlaws, Hyrule would undoubtedly be in a state of chaos. But as it is, the Shikara are a very disciplined and mannered people, perhaps due to their standards for upholding ancient traditions and customs, which are often marked by curious ceremonies and rituals. How they came to be such vagrants remains a mystery to anyone outside of their culture.

Her Majesty, the young newlywed Queen Fenella, is quite taken by the Shikara and would like to see them integrated into Hylian society, though the King does not share her enthusiasm, instead proclaiming that the Shikara are damaging to the kingdom’s thriving economy, much like the nameless gypsies that make their yearly rounds through Hyrule. The general populace seems to be unusually welcoming to the Shikara, save for a few merchants who have lost clientele to them, though not enough to be particularly damaging or cause any civil unrest . . .

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. . . in the year 1182, during which the King tolerated the Shikara only minimally, until it was discovered that the Queen was having an affair with a young man of the tribe. The King called for his immediate arrest and execution, and the result was the sudden disappearance of the Queen, who had presumably eloped with the Shika. Such an act in the Royal Family was unheard of, and in his fury King Ansgar called for the imprisonment of all Shikara, women and children alike.

The neighboring kingdom of Medyn, Queen Fenella’s homeland, announced that it would repossess the great expanse of dowry land that had been annexed to Hyrule if the Queen did not willingly return to her husband in three days. The royal family of Medyn had resentfully given their daughter to King Ansgar as a bride, quite aware that the King’s greatest interest was in the fertile land that he was going to gain instead of the young woman he was to marry. Their union seemed doomed from the beginning.

In his desperation to keep the dowry land for Hyrule, King Ansgar implemented the torture of the Shikara prisoners and made it known to all that if his wife was not returned he would continue to do so. He also bade the people of Hyrule report any Shikara to the authorities, and fueled his people’s distrust and hatred by spreading terrible lies and vile propaganda that eventually led to the entire kingdom revolting against the Shikara. It will be a dark day in Hyrule ere the . . .

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. . . had lost his patience, and began a systematic execution of the prisoners one by one. Queen Fenella was locked away while these acts took place, and finally her lover Iaon surrendered himself on behalf of his people. He was arrested and publicly executed in March.

With the Shikara clan almost completely destroyed, King Ansgar decided to make use of the few remaining families by using their skills to his advantage, molding them into personal guards of royalty.

In the foothills below the Mountain of the Gorons and not far from the Royal Yard of Graves, the King commissioned the construction of a small village known as ‘Kakariko’ where the surviving members of the clan could live, though under the rule of royalty. Their name was changed to ‘Sheikah’, their native language became second after Hyrulian, and a once proud and free people were reduced to slaves of the aristocracy. It is enough to turn the stomach of any philanthropist.

Though their general treatment is by no means cruel or unusual, I was given the privilege of living among them for a short time as part of a plot to observe their behavior on behalf of His Majesty, and I was most distressed by the rules which now govern them. They are not allowed to show their faces to any but the Royal Family, nor are they allowed to venture outside of Kakariko; they are brought food and supplies by soldiers. The gates of the village lock each night and do not open until dawn while a host of sentries stand watch, more to prevent anyone from escaping rather than entering. Any persons caught in the village after curfew are punished, sometimes harshly.

Kakariko is a slave camp, and its slaves are treated like livestock. It is appalling that such an intelligent and talented people should be bred like cattle or oxen to produce stronger, hardier offspring. Their rights as humans have been taken away—there is no such thing as marriage any longer in Sheikah culture. Children never know their parents, and love has been systematically destroyed. Family is a memory of the past. It is the most dismal, ungodly thing I have ever witnessed.

Each Sheikah is inspected and examined yearly by the royal doctors, where the healthiest individuals are noted and recorded for possible reproductive purposes later on. Children are given their titles almost at birth, placing them either in servitude of the Royal Family as guardians or in authoritative positions among the village, for it was learnt early on in the days of Kakariko that the Sheikah do not obey the orders of anyone from the court of Hyrule. The Sheikah will abide orders from their elders and their own people, though it took a generation of brain-washing in order to erase their devotion to their own traditions and replace it with that of an almost suicidal loyalty to the Royal Family.

Though the Sheikah are too proud to admit how miserable they are, I could see it in their eyes, a sadness that cannot be described with any words of mortal tongue. They changed their clan symbol of a single eye, adding to it a single tear to signify their great suffering. The birth rate in Kakariko began to decline due to reported stillbirths and inexplicable infant death. I later discovered that young Sheikah mothers were smothering their newborns—daughters especially—at birth. Tiny graves littered the grim yard where the Sheikah buried their dead. Eventually the yard filled and they took to burning the bodies instead, at the request of the royalty. A silent and helpless rage was cultivated; that a mother should be forced to murder her own child is abominable. Many young women, mothers of dead infants especially, slit their own throats to ease their guilt or sorrow, though they were dead long before their blood ran from their bodies.

The woe emanating from the village of Kakariko is unimaginable.

Royal officials assigned to the overseeing of the Sheikah were perplexed by this inexplicable phenomenon, but never discovered the secret. Perhaps the oppressed people that had once been a thriving and prosperous culture felt that they were better off dead than serving the Royal Family. Something about them had died: the light in their crimson eyes had faded, their very spirits were as glass thrown upon rocks, and any man with eyes in his head could understand, by the lack of expression upon their faces, that they silently resented everything that King Ansgar and the Royal Family stood for.

But as the old generation of Sheikah slowly gave way to newer, more easily influenced blood, this mindset slowly began to fade, to whose dismay I know not, save for my own and theirs. I leave this document behind with the hope that this unforgivable event might be remembered many years from now, and perhaps some form of amnesty will be granted to those—if any remain—who have suffered so greatly at the throne of Hyrule.

Amended in 1698 by Sir Gleyv of Brye:

Royal records indicate that in the year 1203 Clerk Oren Gaothaire was arrested for treason and beheaded. Though the accusation against him pointed to suspicious dealings with the Darsaith¹, it can be assumed that King Ansgar had discovered this manuscript and confiscated it, undoubtedly outraged that a member of his court had sided with the Sheikah people. Through pure chance this text was stumbled across, for it had been hidden away in an alcove of the King’s royal chambers that one of the maids had come across a few months ago. Being one of the few people still literate in Old Hyrulian, I was given this journal to translate and return, though after learning of such terrible atrocity—which, I am sad to say, still continues to this day—I am reluctant to return it so readily to the hands of one who had no idea of these crimes, being His Majesty King Ruel III.

By now it is common knowledge that King Ansgar II went mad in his old age and jumped to his death from the North Tower in the year 1227, leaving the throne to his son Prince Garson. His legacy of hatred for the Sheikah lived on in his son, this much was certain, for the Prince had a terrible temper and an even more beastly appetite for Sheikah women, whom he regularly tortured and abused. It is rumored that he fathered children of Sheikah blood, though it is not noted in any of the Sheikah’s birth records. No doubt his progeny conveniently ‘disappeared’ for the sake of keeping the sanctity of the throne of Hyrule intact. A monstrous idea, but not altogether impossible.

I have transcribed this journal onto parchment, although I fear I shall carry its memory with me to the grave. I now, for my own safety, shall ‘misplace’ this book deep within the royal hall of records. If anyone should find it, may you be a man with the power and the heart to bring these forgotten events into light once more, and right the wrongs that were committed to these unfortunate people so long ago.

The aged, brittle journal slowly slipped from numb fingers and fell to the dank dungeon floor. Sheik sat in silence for hours it seemed, staring at the wall across from him with vacant, empty eyes. He made no shudder or sob, but deep inside him was a bottomless, biting pain that cried and screamed and wept as he could never have done in real life.

Everything he had been taught, everything he had been told by Impa and the Royal Family . . . it was all a lie.

He blinked and a single tear rolled down his cheek, and he brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them, bowing his head and retreating into the darkness of his folded arms. He had been sitting in a cell all along, a metaphorical one, imprisoned by lies and his own ignorance. Everything about his culture, their strengths, their skills, their pride, their devotion, it was a façade to hide the anguish behind their most distinguished traits. They were strong because they had been bred so, they were skilled because they had been brutally taught to be so, they were proud because it was forced upon them, and they were devoted because they had no other choice.

How ironic that the truth of Sheik’s ancestors should resurface now, when he himself was a prisoner of royalty’s whim. It was unbearable.

Though the young man knew of several ways to kill himself without the aid of weapons, he resisted the urge to give in to his fleeting thoughts of suicide. Leith could not bear this burden alone. Sheik would not allow the blame to fall upon him, could not. It was now his responsibility to see that justice be done. He had been chosen. This had happened because it was meant to happen.

Sheik raised his eyes to an unseen heaven, miles above this dark, hellish pit, and asked for strength to endure what unknown hardships lay before him, for he felt certain that it would get much worse before it got better.

The roosters of Lon Lon Ranch crowed loudly at first light, heralding the start of a new day. The morning dawned pale with heavy gray clouds moving across the sky, glowing silver around their fluffy edges. The air was clear and crisp, washed clean from the night’s rain. It was difficult to tell that there was anything wrong in the world on a morning like this but, as it is often said, appearances can be deceiving.

Even Link seemed to have forgotten the grim events of the previous day as he batted opened his blue eyes and gazed at the wan light peering in between the boards of the wall. He lifted his head from the warm breast upon which it had been laying and murmured softly in his throat as he sat up, the rough blanket falling around his bare waist. He stretched lazily and gazed down at Veil . . . and his heart stopped beating.

Veil was lying motionless, his eyes closed and his tousled hair spread out upon his pillow of hay in black tendrils. If his chest had not been rising and falling with his even breaths, Link would have thought he was dead. But leaning in closer, he saw that Veil—for the first time—was sleeping.

Loathe to disturb his lover’s slumber but concerned for him nonetheless, Link gently shook him awake. “Veil,” he whispered. “Veil, wake up.”

The shadow’s gray eyes blinked open slowly and he drew in a long breath, shifting languidly about as he became regained full consciousness. “Mmmf,” he muttered drowsily. “What happened to me? Was I killed? Are we in heaven?”

Link couldn’t help but to smile and reach out to tame his twin’s messy locks. “If heaven is a tool barn, then yes, we’re there.”

Veil smiled sleepily and sat up, sweeping the hay from his bare skin. “Did I faint?”

“Not quite. You fell asleep,” said Link. “Did you have any dreams?”

“Dreams? No . . . at least none that I can recall.”

“Well, perhaps you will dream in time. It’s already a miracle that you’ve had your first rest. Maybe now you’ll begin to partake of more human activities, eh?”

Veil smiled. “What’s the hurry? Do you have an appointment to attend?”

Link reached up and brushed his finger across the shadow’s cheek, tracing the curve of his chin and the soft length of his bottom lip. “I love you,” he murmured, gazing with deep fondness at Veil’s face.

And I you.

Link broke into a bright grin and chuckled. Veil did likewise, and then there was a great crash from down below. The two sprang together in surprise, sending hay and blanket flying about. “Shit!” Link hissed. “What do we do?”

A female voice called out, “Hallo-oooh? Mister Link? Mister Veil? Are you—oh, well, here are your clothes. You must be somewhere nearby. Mister Liiiinnnk?”

“I’ll go see who it is,” Veil said, moving toward the opening where the ladder was.

“No! It might be a trap. Where the hell is Nav-”

Suddenly a red headed young woman, accompanied by a bright sparkle of light named Navi, poked her head from the opening and into the loft, startling the two occupants so badly that they went clambering backwards. Link grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around his waist, then threw himself in front of Veil so as to cover his immodesty. Veil was innocently clueless.

Navi audibly sighed and glowed pink again.

The girl laid eyes upon the two young men and smiled brightly, the freckles across her cheeks giving her a warm, friendly glow. “Well how’dye!” she greeted cheerfully. “I figured I’d find you up here. Hey, I know you! You’re that lad who wandered in here last year and worked for us a couple weeks. Well isn't that something else!”

Link experienced a stupid moment as he tried to recall which of his two lives he had lived that period of time, at last remembering that it had been the one where was a solitary wanderer, traveling Hyrule in search of the meaning of his life. He had come across the ranch and worked for Talon, the owner of Lon Lon, for a short time and then moved on, as he was wont to do. But now with the memories of his quest spinning about in his brain, he felt an almost familial connection to this girl, whose name was Malon.

“Er, yes!” he said as his thoughts caught up with him. “Yes, that’s quite a coincidence.”

Veil peered out from behind Link with wide eyes. “Are you a real woman?”

“What?” Malon burst into laughter. “But o’ course I am! What do I look like, a man?”

“No, certainly not.”

“All right,” Link huffed, perhaps a bit jealous with Veil’s fascination of women. “So you’ve finally seen one. Moving on to present events . . .”

“I never knew you had a twin brother, Link,” Malon said. “Why didn’t you tell me?

“Uh. You never asked.”

The farm girl looked perplexed for a moment before giggling. “You’re a funny one, Link.”

Link didn’t know whether to take it as a compliment or an insult, so he decided upon the former, smiling nervously and tittering. Thankfully Navi flew in and spared him from crawling deeper into this already awkward situation: “Link, a man came here to see you and Veil just before dawn.”

“What?”

Malon explained, “He said he was a messenger of the court of Hyrule, but that he was given orders to sneak out to help you now that you’re on the run. He left a lot of stuff with Papa, but Papa said we didn’t have any outlaws hiding at our ranch. The man didn’t listen and then just left. Everyone here’s been looking for you . . . What did you do anyway?”

Link’s mouth went dry. “We . . . had a disagreement. We didn’t do anything terrible; we’re only trying to . . . to-”

“Find a solution to a problem,” Veil finished quickly with an innocent smile. “The royal officials can be a little impatient but we insisted upon finding a more convenient method.”

“Convenient method of what?” Malon asked.

“Uh.”

“It’s confidential,” said Link with a slow nod. “They asked us not to speak of it.”

Navi settled upon Malon’s shoulder, brooding to herself. “I’m worried,” she said. “How did that man know you were here? How could anyone know you were here?”

Link didn’t have to think long before he knew, and he smiled. “Sheik,” he said softly. “He would have known we would hide here. He’s good about predicting what people do, especially fleeing people.”

“Does that mean he’s all right?” Veil asked worriedly.

“I don’t know. But at least we know he’s alive, and has friends on the inside who are willing to help us.” Link sighed. “Thank the gods. I thought we’d be facing this dilemma by ourselves.”

“Well, you fellows get some clothes on your skins and come on down for breakfast,” Malon chirped, descending from the loft. “Papa will be more than happy to help you get back in the saddle again!”

Talon, the owner of Lon Lon Ranch, was a very kind, generous person. It didn’t matter that he was extremely forgetful and easily distracted, or that he was narcoleptic. What mattered most to Link was that he would risk a great deal and go to enormous lengths to help out a friend when he was in need.

When Link and Veil appeared in the main house, dressed in their still damp and wrinkled clothes, the first thing the rotund, mustachioed man did when he saw them was to shout out his greeting of, “G’MORNIN’!” and dash over to give Link a bone-cracking handshake and an equally spine-splitting pat on the back.

“How d’ye, lad! It’s a pleasure t’ have ye in our company again, ain’t it, Mally dear?”

Malon shook her head helplessly and smiled. “It certainly is, Papa.”

“Ho ho! And what’s this? Yer brother, is he? Well, bless me! The more the merrier! You too, fairy lass! Come in, come in! We’ve ourselves quite an interesting medley of guests. Ingo, go grab a few more ‘a them eggs from the hen house. We’re servin’ up a storm this mornin’, ha ha!”

Despite his accomplishments in sleeping the night before, Veil still did not feel the need to partake of other human activities, such as eating. However, Talon insisted upon piling the eggs, sausages and griddlecakes on Veil’s plate until he was nearly peering over a mountain of food, most of which snuck its way onto Link’s plate. It didn’t take long before the Hylian was stuffed to the brim, and he told Veil to try eating some of his own breakfast. It couldn’t possibly hurt him, could it? Of course not.

So Veil picked up his fork and dug in, and though he quite enjoyed the array of new tastes, he wasn’t particularly hungry, and had to explain his reasons for eating like a bird to Talon before the jovial man scraped even more food onto his plate: “I, uh. I already ate yesterday, thank you.”

Link distracted Talon with conversation while Veil dumped his plate onto Malon’s when she wasn’t looking, who dumped her plate onto Ingo’s when he wasn’t looking, who dumped his plate onto Talon’s when he wasn’t looking, who ate the rest of the breakfast when no one else was looking. It was quite a humorous spectacle to behold.

Once the meal had been concluded, Talon took his guests to the yard where the curious bundles left by the mysterious man were laid out neatly against the horse barn. Link kneeled down and opened them all one by one, and soon he was surrounded by some very familiar and beloved items, such as his fairy bow and quiver of arrows, his longshot, his Hylian shield, two vials of red and green potions, and two changes of clothes along with long cloaks for concealment.

“It looks like fortune is on our side, Veil,” he murmured with a smile, then noticed a small leather pouch tucked within the quiver; pulling it out, his heart leapt with joy. It was his ocarina, the one which Saria had given him years ago that he had always carried with him. He was practically in tears, clasping it to his chest as if it were the most priceless jewel in all the world. But to Link, it was far more precious than any gem.

Veil was confused and curious, but he didn’t say anything, choosing instead to wait until Link had collected himself and his belongings and thanked Talon for being so gracious.

The man chortled richly, scratching his moustache. “Y’ don’t plan on carting all o’ that stuff on foot, d’ye, lads? Come on, we’ll go to the stables and get ye a set of hooves to put beneath ye!”

It was almost predestined that the horse they should receive was none other that Epona, the strong and sturdy chestnut mare that Link had ridden throughout his quest. Though she didn’t recognize her old master, she befriended him as quickly as she had the first time, and Link could have never felt happier to hear her familiar whinny.

Both he and Veil were moved by Talon’s overwhelming generosity of lending them the finest horse in Lon Lon, but the jolly man brushed it off. “Ach, ye worked for free all that time. Think of this as a late payment.”

They loaded up Epona’s saddlebags with their provisions—which weren’t much, but enough to last them back to Gil-Nemith—and Link knew that his four-legged companion was more than capable of carrying two riders at a brisk pace. The Hylian experienced a burst of energy, cheerful that things were turning out so well.

Veil had finished making note of their supplies with Navi when he turned to say something to Link, but caught his breath. The sun had broken through an opening in the heavy gray clouds, and for a few seconds, the golden light rained down upon Link’s oblivious figure as he was adjusting Epona’s bridle. Veil stared in speechless wonder.

When Link had finished with the bridle and the clouds had covered the sun once more, he turned to find Veil staring at him as if entranced. “What?” he said with a slight grin, noting that adoring look in his twin’s eyes that normally preceded a breathless, poetic laudation to his immeasurable fairness.

“You look . . .” Veil narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, though he didn’t appear troubled. “Different. Well, that is, not so much look any different as you sort of . . . feel different.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with last night, would it?” the Hylian coyly winked.

“No, I . . . yes. Well, I’m not quite sure.”

Navi’s voice inserted itself into their conversation: “Speaking of which. Link, I hope you’re fit to travel. You sounded quite ill last night.”

“Ill? I’m perfectly fine.”

“Good. Because your moans made it quite impossible for one to get any rest.”

The two young men blushed helplessly and shrugged. “I’ll be sure to have something stuffed in my mouth next time,” Link broke into a laugh as he realized what he had said, and a perfectly rosy Navi flew over and started tugging on strands of his blond hair in mock anger.

“Dirty, dirty!” she cried, flying into his hair like a bee and turning his locks into a tangled mess. “You ought to have your tongue washed and hung out to dry!”

Veil, as usual, watched on with adorable cluelessness. “What? What’s so funny?” he kept inquiring with a worried smile.

Link caught his breath after laughing and approached his twin. “Don’t worry, ‘Brother’,” he said, and pressed a short, shallow kiss to Veil’s lips. “You’ll understand in time.”

“And Ket knows how soon that’s going to be,” Navi teased. “I’m afraid your innocence won’t last much longer around this pervert, Veil.”

Link chuckled under his breath. “He’s lost quite enough of his innocence already.”

The dark haired young man gave his head a playful toss and said with a wily grin, “I didn’t lose anything I didn’t want lost.” And he slipped his arm about Link’s waist, surprising him with a brief, breathtaking kiss that, while enjoyable, was badly timed.

“I’ve never seen brothers behave so affectionately,” came Malon’s voice as she entered the stable barn.

The two quickly separated themselves and tried not to look too guilty and embarrassed, which proved impossible when the red headed girl arched her eyebrow at them suspiciously. Extraordinarily, it was Navi who saved the day: “Oh, it’s not affection! It’s for medicinal purposes,” the fairy said, orbiting Malon’s head. “They, ah, have a strange condition that—well, Veil is the one who has the condition—that prevents him from, uh . . .”

“Swallowing properly!” Link jumped in. “Yes, Veil, ah, if he doesn’t get his medicine every day his, uh, throat swells up like a sponge. It’s a very rare disorder.”

“Goodness!” Malon exclaimed. “You poor thing!”

“Yes, I was just, er, giving him his daily medicine. It can only be given orally. Yes. It’s really bothersome. We’re always afraid of what people think of us, right, Veil?”

The shadow nodded. “Absolutely. It’s a terrible disorder to have. Perfectly wretched. But I’m quite all right now. Thank you, Brother.”

“No problem, Brother,” Link replied.

It wasn’t a very convincing display but it seemed good enough for Malon, who showed them across the corral to a gate where they could depart in secret. The forest could be seen not too far off, and was a much better route than going through the wide open expanse of Hyrule Field.

“So where are you off to?” she asked.

“South,” Link replied as he climbed into the saddle after Veil. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more. I’m not being rude, it’s just better that you not know in case soldiers come by and question you.”

“I understand,” she said. “In that case, if you ride left and follow the edge of the forest, you’ll be traveling south-southwest. Keep the forest to your right. It makes good cover, and it’s a lot safer than riding out in the open.”

“Thank you so much, Malon,” Veil said from atop Epona. “We don’t know what we would have done without the kindness of you and your father.”

“Yes, be sure to tell him we said that,” Link added.

The girl smiled, her bridge of freckles across her nose arching cutely. “I will. You’ve a handsome head on your shoulders, Link, so make certain you keep it there. And Veil, I do hope your condition improves. It’s a good thing you two have each other to look after.”

The shadow blushed at the mention of the farce, but accepted her admonition with a smile and a nod. Navi landed between Epona’s ears and exclaimed, “Let’s hurry it up! We’ve a long way to go and much to do!”

With a good-bye and a final wave, Link and Veil rode off toward the forest on Epona until they disappeared over the hilltops.

They sent for Sheik at dawn, though time could not be determined when one was imprisoned within the subterranean dungeons. But Sheik, ever adept and perhaps even strangely gifted, knew that it was dawn without having to see the sky or even smell the air.

He had not slept at all the entire night, his mind too troubled to rest. Images of slaughter, ruin and oppression haunted him each time he closed his eyes, and he began to wonder as the hours ticked by if he was ever going to be able to sleep again.

For perhaps the first time, he felt alone. He wished that someone else had been down there in the dungeons with him, even if it was another criminal in the next cell, for at least that was someone, another human being. Pain was much harder to endure when one was alone. Perhaps the only benefit of being by himself was the fact that no one could hear him as he cried. And Sheik, going against the customs of his callous people, had cried for a very long time.

The night had been long, lonely and rough; when the guard sent to fetch him first opened the iron door and saw him, he almost recoiled. To say that Sheik looked terrible would be mincing words, for it’s hard to measure the look on a person’s face whose entire life had fallen out from beneath him, and that’s what Sheik looked like—a man who had lost nearly everything.

“Get up,” the guard said gruffly. “You’ve been called before the Royal Council.”

He did not move. He didn’t even blink.

“Are you deaf?” the sentry repeated. “Get up! They don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“I heard you the first time,” Sheik uttered in a hoarse voice, slowly rising from the floor. He hoped that the leather journal concealed beneath his tight blue uniform would remain unnoticed.

The guard took him tightly by the arm and jerked him down the corridor, noting with a snide tone in his voice, “So you’re a Sheikah, eh?”

“What gave it away? The outfit, perhaps?” Sheik muttered.

“Cheeky little brat.” The sentry smiled lecherously. “You don’t look like a Sheikah, not with all that pretty yellow hair.”

Sheik wrenched his arm free when he felt the guard’s gloved fingers sift through his blond locks. “Get your hands off of me!” he cried indignantly, cheeks coloring to an angry shade of red. “I know the way myself. I don’t need you.”

“I was ordered to escort you, in case you should get any smart ideas,” the guard snarled, taking Sheik by the arm more firmly this time. “So shut your mouth and perhaps nothing will happen on the way there.”

Sheik scowled visibly but allowed himself to be manhandled down the corridor and up the winding dungeon stairs. Though he was more than capable of rendering the revolting sentry dead or in serious pain with almost no effort, he knew that it would create more problems than solve them, and so he stayed his hand with fraying patience.

He was brought to the Council and Royal Courtroom, a vast chamber with a high, vaulted ceiling. A single row of tall stained-glass windows lined one wall and a long red carpet ran down the length of the polished marble floor. At one end, on a circular dais, were four stone chairs on each side of an ornate throne. Rows of carved benches flanked the red carpet, giving it the appearance of a church rather than a council room. Sheik saw, with a sense of dread, a single wooden chair placed on the carpet before the large throne, looking very small and proletarian when compared to the other chairs before it. It was his seat, and he took it reluctantly and waited for the council members to arrive.

The guard stood by his chair, leering down at Sheik and occasionally toying with the young man’s hair. He stopped once a door to the side opened and the council members slowly walked in single file to their chairs. Sheik rose from his seat respectfully and waited.

The Council of Hyrule consisted of nine members: Princess Zelda, of course, who held the final word on any issue; Sage Rauru, who oversaw matters concerning the spiritual sanctity of the kingdom; Lord Chancellor Gildas, a short, squat little man with a sharp nose who presided over the Council; Lord Counselor Mortimus, a tall, thin, dark-haired man who acted as an advisor to the other members of the Council; Lord Chamberlain Leith, responsible for civil matters and secretarial services to Her Royal Highness and to whom you were already introduced; Lord Marshal Fergus, commander of Hyrule’s armed forces; and Lord Orin, Steward of Hyrule, who held authority of the departments of the kingdom. The Lords Protector and Provost were absent since this was not a matter concerning diplomatic or foreign policies.

Princess Zelda entered the room last, casting a sideways glance at Sheik before striding gracefully to her throne and standing before it. “May this meeting of the Royal Council of Hyrule now commence,” she stated and sat down. The other seven members took their seats after her, along with Sheik. She stared down at the young man and said with a sympathetic smile, “How are you, Ilya?”

“I have endured worse conditions, your Highness,” he replied with a bitter, sardonic smile. “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, my lords. I had something of a fitful night.”

“Mind your temper, Sheikah,” warned Lord Orin.

“It is all right, Steward,” Zelda interrupted. “Let him speak as he pleases.”

Leith cast a look down at Sheik that was filled with parental worry, but the young man nodded very slightly to indicate that he was all right.

Chancellor Gildas cleared his throat, stood, produced a scroll of parchment and read in a loud, abrasive voice that echoed sharply in the large room: “Ilya of the Sheikah, Personal Guardian of the Royal Family of Hyrule, you are being charged with insubordination, defiant acts of rebellion against your superiors, obstructing the process of the law, and treasonous behavior. Though these offences are more than sufficient to sentence you to death or the dungeons, Her Highness has expressed extraordinary leniency towards you and feels that your argument should be expressed among the members of the Royal Council.”

Sheik could not keep the contempt out of his voice: “Her Highness is ever so gracious.”

“Impudence,” Sage Rauru muttered to the other council members. “He ought to be punished for his words alone.”

“For the gods know my people have not been punished enough already,” Sheik said loudly, creating a stir amongst the council.

“Gentlemen, please! Keep the order,” Zelda chided regally, then gazed down at the Sheikah. “Of what punishment do you speak, Ilya?”

“The time will come when I speak of it, but it is not this time; I am here to explain to you why I revolted against your poorly-considered and hasty attempt on the life of one Veil of Hylia, a man who was once the shadow of the Hero of Time.”

And he told the council in great detail of their entire adventure from the very beginning, sparing nothing that seemed trivial, save for a few intimate instances that were hardly worth mentioning. He told them of Veil, his kindness and innocence, his gentle nature and loving devotion to his master. He told them of Link, who at first refused to look past the mist that shaded his eyes and prevented him from seeing that everything which had once been evil about his shadow was no longer there, replaced instead with character even more tender and compassionate than Link himself was.

He told the of druid Falavus Talrhos, the Lady of Gil-Nemith who had helped them to understand that Veil was more than a mere shadow, that he was a part of Link’s soul from whom he could not be separated. He told of their battle with the Siridu and Veil’s heroic acts to save his master, his bravery, and his loyalty to his friends. He even spoke haltingly of Veil’s helpless, passionate love for Link, and at what lengths he would suffer for his sake, sacrificing everything for him in the name of love.

The council listened to Sheik’s story patiently with furrowed brows and looks of amazement. At last he came upon the final words, which explained the reasons for his actions: “We were instructed by Falavus not to do anything impulsive, for it may have dire and dangerous effects on Link or even the world itself. This is a situation that must be handled from a level-headed and objective standpoint, my lords, and I know for a fact that Lady Falavus is both. I understand your urgency but you have got to place your faith in Link once more. He cannot save Hyrule again if he does not have it.”

“And what exactly is Link’s plan?” came the deep voice of Counselor Mortimus, who had been listening to Sheik’s story with a particularly disturbed look on his thin face.

“I. I don’t know,” Sheik lied, not foolish enough to tell them where Link and Veil were headed. “But he will find out how to save both Hyrule and himself. He has done it before, and he can surely do it again.”

Mortimus smiled in a way that made Sheik’s skin crawl—he did not like that man at all. “And why should we place our trust so blindly in the hands of a druid hag, the last of a clan of cowards who abandoned Hyrule when it was plagued by the dark powers of the Darsaith?”

The word rang in Sheik’s memory as he recalled the words from the journal, hidden close to his pounding heart: Clerk Oren Gaothaire was arrested for treason and beheaded. Though the accusation against him pointed to suspicious dealings with the Darsaith, it can be assumed that King Ansgar had discovered this manuscript . . .

The tall man in black looked amused. “You do not know of the Darsaith? Well, I suppose the Sheikah cannot be entirely blamed for the ignorance of their children.” A few of the council members chuckled. Leith looked furious. “I will enlighten you, dear Ilya.”

To hear his true name come from the tongue of that man was enough to make Sheik shudder.

“The druids were a clan of moor-dwelling simpletons several hundred years ago,” said Mortimus. “The royal families of Hyrule were good enough to look out for them, for they kept a protective barrier surrounding the land which prevented evil from entering. It was a pity they were so weak, for one day the barrier was broken, and seven dark mages known as the Darsaith descended upon Hyrule and its people, wreaking havoc across the land and killing hundreds of innocents. The king of Hyrule begged for help from the druids but, like the spineless cravens they were, they had fled into the Lost Wood where no mortal dared to enter.

“And so the king turned to the Sages,” Mortimus gave a courteous nod toward Rauru, who lifted his chin proudly, “who were able to send the Darsaith fleeing for their lives. Some claim that their work is still afoot, but those are only fairy tales invented to keep children well behaved. Everyone knows that the Darsaith faded from existence long ago, much like the druids who never dared to show their face in Hyrule again.”

The man in black scowled terribly. “How unfortunate to learn that a single druid still remains. May her remaining days upon this earth be cursed for her betrayal.”

Several council members nodded in agreement. Sheik was in open-mouthed shock. “No, you’re wrong! Lady Falavus is a wise, noble and-”

“Your Lady Falavus is a fraud,” Sage Rauru snapped. “She is a coward and a traitor like the rest of her people. No doubt she is using your trust to help bring ruin to Hyrule and this whole earth!”

Chancellor Gildas concurred with the Sage. “And for this reason, we ask that the number of troops in search of the two outlaws be increased and a reward offered for their live capture.”

Marshal Fergus, a muscular wall of a man, nodded smartly. “It can be done, Chancellor. I can send word to General Keir immediately.”

“And does Counselor Mortimus agree?” Gildas asked.

The dark haired man all but smirked. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

Leith was about to jump in with an objection, but the Chancellor proclaimed before he had a chance to speak: “Your Highness, it is after great care and deliberation that we have requested the hunt for Link of Hyrule and this Veil of Hylia continue until they are found and brought to justice, upon which we shall meet again to decide their fate. What is Her Highness’ verdict on this matter?”

Zelda stared down at Sheik who was desperately shaking his head, the horror already ripe in his expression. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “In the best interest of Hyrule, I cannot allow Link to waste precious time searching for an alternative means of preserving his shadow when the fate of the world hangs in the balance. The search will continue-”

Sheik jumped from his chair and shouted, “If you kill Veil it will destroy Link forever! Is that the way you repay the one who has save Hyrule and yourself so many times in the past!?”

The guard seized Sheik but the overwrought young man could not be restrained. He screamed, kicking and punching in reckless anger that was unlike him as the council stood to its feet and began arguing amongst themselves.

“Think of Link for once, Zelda!” he cried. “Think of the pain and torture he has endured for you! Can you not find it in your heart to put your faith in him once more? Or has he only been a pawn to you, an expendable player that you have mercilessly used and would offer up as a sacrifice without so much as a backward glance? Link would have fought to help save your loved one, Princess! He would have fought to his death!”

“Get him out of here,” muttered Mortimus to the Marshal, who whistled sharply and called a host of sentries into the council chamber to haul the fighting young Sheikah away. As he was overpowered and dragged away down the red carpet, Sheik looked over his shoulder and screamed, “Remember that, Princess! Link has died for you!”

As the heavy wooden doors slammed shut behind him and his shouts faded down the corridor, the young Princess sighed. Placing a hand upon her brow, she held her breath and kept her tears from falling.

1 Darsaith; from the Welsh “dar” meaning dark, and the Celtic “saith” meaning “seven”.