Dearest reader,

I am communicating with you via Gossip Stone! (I have always wanted to say that. These things are truly amazing ~ all the way to Earth from Hyrule!)

My associate, Shad and I are pleased to announce that we have just completed a large amount of research into Hyrule's history and have compiled a rather extensive and (what we believe to be) relatively accurate telling of the times of the Sages of Hyrule and the surrounding circumstances.

A little about the account we have compiled here: it has been roughly one-and-a-half years in the making, dutifully referenced and cross-referenced to any and all accounts of happenings in Hyrule (legendary or actual), and has made extensive use of the Book of Mudora (which, as Shad and I discovered, was still available at the Kakariko Village Library ~ truly, a remarkable find).

Despite our best efforts, however, we have had to fill in quite a few gaps to bring you the more complete version of the history, and some of our research may, sadly, be incorrect. Nevertheless, we felt this almost true account was worth your perusal. If your attentive and dutiful eye detects any inconsistencies with the Legend as you know it, please contact me via Gossip Stone and share your comments.

We wish to relay this telling of the Legend to you post-haste. Please choose a volume from the bookshelf at the left and peruse to your heart's content.

Dearly and Dutifully,
the Hero of Geeks

PS ~ Ah, yes! Master Shad has just reminded me that I have not even told you the title of our work. We have named it The Legend of Zelda: Shadows of the Past. (A lovely title, I think ~ full of foreshadowing and whatnot, excuse the pun.) With no further ado, enjoy!

Introduction to Shadows of the Past

A few words to begin: I do not claim the names and situations of these characters as my own. The Legend of Zelda, Link, Zelda, the Triforce, Hyrule, and all other related names are property of Nintendo. In no way do I intend to profit from these properties, nor do I expect any to regard the following as my own invention. While I do claim the characters and situations which are unique to this story (please see the Timeline in the appendix), let it be known that as for the rest I am taking artistic liberties with someone else’s ideas; poetic license with someone else’s plot. This story is purely for amusement purposes only.

With the legalities firmly established I do wish to say that I have embellished greatly upon the original story, and not unrealistically so, I hope. It is my hope that this story be seen as a complement to the games, a fleshing out of the background stories, if you will, in an attempt to resolve some of the hidden connections between characters and provide one perspective as to how the games fit with one another. I submit that many fans may disagree with my placement of the games, but for reasons of my own—which are no less thought out than anything else I have done here—I have placed them where I have. Please, enjoy the story as it is. I sincerely hope you do.

Thank you for reading my work,

—Wm Jay Carter III {HHE, HG}

For those who wish to understand my thought process as I put this together or for a chronology of events, please see the appendix at the conclusion of the story. The contextual game progression is understood to be:

MC, OoT, MM, FS(A), TP, ALttP

Other games could be placed within this context, but I am drawing upon these for the purposes of the current story.

Episode I ~ The Looming Shadow

Being the first of three episodes composing the work "Shadows of the Past," which chronicles the events surrounding the Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask.

This, the first episode, begins with the account of Mudora, thirty-nine years prior to the birth of the prophesied Hero of Time. Mudora, the Sage of Shadow and Master of the Sheikah people, is 34 years old. Under the direction of the Hylian king he gives accounts of the happenings in Hyrule since the beginning of time.

Please note changes in time as indicated at the beginning of relevant sections and chapters.

Prologue ~ Mudora: Words and Prophecies

The following are excerpts from a legendary enchanted manuscript called the Book of Mudora, a volume written by one of the Sages of Hyrule. Accompanying the writings is a treatise on the Hylian language, suggesting that the author had intended the knowledge contained herein to be preserved past even the degradation of the society. The following passages which were written using the hieroglyphs of the original Ancient Hylian are impossible to translate using the included language primer, the only exception being the vision of the Golden Land (the translation of which has been maintained in oral tradition.)

Written 1335 HR (Hyrulean Reckoning)
Concerning the Goddesses and the Creation of Hyrule

According to the reckoning of our time, before the Days of the Ancients, before the waters flowed and the mountains shook, from beyond the distant nebulae that reach across the heavens, the three Goddesses of Gold came to form our world, and gave it order, and life.

Din, with her furious might, took up the land that was and made the mountains and valleys, and tilled the earth. Great peaks ridged the surface of the planet, and then she awoke the forces of the world from their slumber and the mountains began to belch fire, and smoke. Din was the source of our world’s power.

Nayru, with her calculating mind, took of the chaos that was and formed patterns and order. The great waters were subdued and flowed according to their given course, and the mysteries of magic and science ceased to flee, and she bound them, that they might be discovered. Nayru was the source of our world’s wisdom.

Faroe, with her verdant embrace, took of the spirits that were and gave them life. Plants and animals of every kind appeared, and they all upheld the order that was established, and went forth to take up the powers that had been awakened. And in those days there was no fear, but all forms of life protected their own kind from that which would threaten to destroy. Faroe was the source of our world’s courage.

Concerning the Races of Hyrule and the Triforce

And when the Goddesses had finished our world, they made the races to live there—the noble Hylians, with their fair skin and pointed ears, wisest of all the races; the honorable Sheikah, with hair as white as snow, loyal and brave; the cunning Gerudo, with their dark complexions and lithe bodies, bold and charismatic. And other races came forth from the elements, to serve the Goddesses that made them. From stone, and water, and forest were made beings that were strong, and fair, and curious.

And then the three Goddesses departed our world, and left behind a symbol of their strength; a golden triangle known as the Triforce. And I, Mudora, have seen in vision that the Sacred Object does exist. And my vision was thus:

[indecipherable hieroglyphs—early Hylian origin]

Translation from oral tradition:
In a realm beyond sight,
The sky shines gold, not blue.
There, the Triforce’s might
Makes mortal dreams come true.

~I am Mudora, Sage of Shadow and keeper of these secrets

Concerning the Search for the Triforce

From its hiding place in the so-called Golden Land where the Goddesses placed it, the Triforce beckoned people from the outside world to seek it, that one worthy of its powers might have the wish of his heart. It was said that any who obtained it would have his heart’s desire. A small but powerful portion of the essence of the Goddesses was held in this mighty artifact, which was to guide the intelligent life on the world of Hyrule. As an extension of the power of the Goddesses, the Triforce became the source of our world’s providence. But what was our gift would also become our curse.

For many long years, none knew how to enter the Golden Land in order to obtain the Triforce. Nevertheless, many aggressively sought the wish-granting Object, and squandered their lives in the search. Though they looked west, below the Burning Desert, and east, within the fiery caverns of Death Mountain, the entrance could not be found. Some claimed it was at the bottom of the Great Hylian Lake in the south, though not even they who dwell at the bottom of those great waters could say for certain.

But just as many had begun to lose interest in the search for the path to the Sacred Object, a foul breath issued forth across the land and the foolish, and the power-hungry, and the coward began to allow the idea of it to infect his mind. These greed-maddened people utterly wasted themselves in the futile search for the entrance to the Sacred Realm, finally turning upon themselves or each other and taking their own lives for despair—for a dream that could never be; for hopes that would never be realized. The thought of the Triforce stole men from their families, mothers from their children, and left those who remained mourning and cursing the Goddesses.

Concerning the War of the Golden Land

For centuries the Triforce lay hidden, deep in a realm a world away from our own. But then one day (in the thirteen hundred and ninth year since the advent of the Goddesses) a gate to the Golden Land appeared near the castle of the Hylian people, within the town they had made there. Soon the races of Hyrule were revisited with grief, as all those who had sought the Triforce in vain now came flocking to the place with renewed lust. Daily the gate consumed any deluded soul who entered it, though none would ever return. Many watched the gate intently for any sign of their departed loved ones, but they waited in vain.

Years passed and still the flocks of deluded souls could not be restrained from their hapless doom. Finally, a militia was formed, and a resistance held. The militia surrounded the gate with pikes and spears, and watches were held day and night. But with frenzied minds the greed-driven Hylians attacked their own people, and a war began which some claim has not ceased to this day. It has been called in times long after the War of the Golden Land. It was a brutal and shameful war, where brother fought against brother, and deceit and betrayal ran through the streets like water.

Many good souls died on account of the War of the Golden Land. Those lost in service of their crown and people were awarded posthumous knighthood by the king of Hyrule, who sorrowed for his people’s anguish. Then the call was made to form a strengthened force to better preserve the people from the enticement of the golden gate; none would be allowed to enter the golden gate by decree of the Hylian king. And from thenceforth the Hylian Kingdom has employed a body of soldiers, and standing beside them in defense of their land were the Knights of Hyrule—valiant souls who guarded against the self-destruction of their people and protected the Royal Family of Hyrule. When those seeking entrance into the Golden Land saw they could not conquer an organized force, they banded together and retreated without the walls of the city to await another chance to satisfy their lust for the powers of the Triforce.

Now, in those days the Sheikah were a race aloof and observant, and they had sent their spies out to bring news of the Golden Land, and whether there had been success by any in obtaining the Triforce. When it was learned that the Triforce was as yet unwon, they sent in their own people in small numbers to scout and see if aught might be learned and if any indeed might return. So skilled were they at stealth that their advance party was able to pass the Knights charged with the gate’s protection and enter unseen…or rather, almost unseen.

One man, cunning and observant himself, was camped with his fellow dissenters without the walls of the Hylian’s Castle Town and saw the Sheikah scouts pass by. Following from afar off, he watched as they infiltrated the Knights’ camp and entered the Golden Realm. He waited to see if they had any success—whether they might emerge with the Power of Gold—but like so many, they were lost. So the cunning man tracked the scouts’ trail back to the Sheikah village, called Kakariko, at the foot of Death Mountain. When this cunning man appealed to the Master of the Sheikah to teach him how to enter the portal unseen, the master flatly refused. But after reporting that the Sheikah scouts had never returned he offered himself and his fellows as subjects to test the gate, if only it got them into that portal they sought so intently. The Sheikah master saw an opportunity in the prospect and agreed. And the cunning man and his brethren were taught how they might achieve their ends.

Unfortunately, the cunning man was never rewarded according to his desire, for he and the others that attempted to infiltrate the Knights’ camp were caught and imprisoned. Discovering their connection with the Sheikah, the king of Hyrule sent to the master of the Sheikah and charged him with infiltrating the kingdom of Hyrule and deceiving its people with false hope. Incensed, the master sent back that the Hylians were acting like foolish ants: sitting in a languid stupor on their hill while the treasure within their grasp went unclaimed, and still they prevented others from obtaining, perchance, what the Hylians saw no use for. But checking his anger, the master proposed a conjoined effort to discover the secrets of the portal and obtain, if the Goddesses would permit, the Power of Gold, and share between the two races the benefits of that boon. But the king of Hyrule would not, and returned that there should be no such arrangement, but that if any of the Sheikah were found within the borders of the kingdom they should be slain. For a time, enmity and silence prevailed between the races.

Then, having learned from both insult and injury, the Hylian king ordered that a more defensible solution be sought. The king’s chief advisor, the wizened Potho (who was also the head of the kingdom’s monastic order) suggested that a temple should be built to contain the portal. It could then put under the care of the monks, who would live in the temple, and thus the portal would be monitored day and night. The Hylian king agreed, and the temple was begun. Thus, the Knights of Hyrule were able to focus their attention on the limited entrances to the temple rather than a wide perimeter.

And the monks of the Temple saw it as their duty to pray to the Goddesses for a solution to the increasing unrest without the Hylian city gates. An answer, it seemed, came when those dissenters without the gates took up their camps and marched west, away from the city. It appeared there might be peace at last.

Concerning the Gerudo and their King

But the wise who see peace in their days know that it will not prevail indefinitely. This proved true for the Hylian king, as I will show you. But I would call your minds now to the third race of Hyrule, the Gerudo, who lived far from the Hylian kingdom, whose shrines lay deep within the Burning Desert. It was there that the dissenting Hylian force marched, and they told the Gerudo that a portal was opened; it was being held by the Hylians, and that they were preventing any from entering in. The lord of the Gerudo, an ambitious young man named Ganondorf Dragmire, saw the actions of the Hylian king as a challenge to any who would doubt the dominance of the Hylians as the supreme race. And it was certain that Ganondorf doubted.

Now aught must be said regarding the Gerudo. One year in every hundred there is a male child born within their tribe, and he is destined to be their king and lord. Each male will live long enough to see another born, and he will retain his vitality into his old age. He is a precious rarity among the race, and all of the females of the tribe are willing to protect him with their lives, for should he die, the Gerudo race would die with him and there would be nothing left of their way of life. The lord himself is taught from his infancy to be aggressive, ruthless, and merciless—for the Gerudo believe that anything short of this would put the king, and therefore their tribe, in jeopardy.

Above all the preservation of the Gerudo lord’s life is of supreme concern for any Gerudo female. It is for this reason that the females are trained as expert combatants; to better protect their king. A small band of bodyguards therefore protect the Great Ganondorf, as he is wont to be called, and these boast accomplishments in thievery, are skilled in secrecy and stealth, and the use of magic.

So it will be clear that when the Great Ganondorf saw the Hylians in their weakened state, he saw his chance to take the Triforce for himself, though he would make it seem to his tribe that he was acting out of intentions to improve their barren condition. For was it not in the power of the Triforce to grant the wish of one’s heart? Accordingly, Ganondorf went himself, with his bodyguards, to treat with the king of the Hylians that he might obtain his desire.

But having been wizened by experience, the Hylian king denied the Gerudo lord his wish. He would not permit him to enter the portal, for it had only lead to sorrow; and what, the king asked, would become of the Gerudo tribe if its lord never returned? But Ganondorf would not be swayed, and he berated the king and accused him of power-mongering, saying that the Hylians were selfish and spoiled children. Despite the Gerudo lord’s censure, yet the noble king would not relent, and still he refused to permit him entrance.

And then Ganondorf Dragmire revealed his treachery, and told the Hylian king of his plans to invade were they not to permit him entrance—that the king’s own men, those Hylian dissenters, were without the walls and supported by a force of trained Gerudo warriors. But the wise Hylian king still refused, and dismissed the Gerudo lord from his presence.

As the Gerudo made preparations for war, constructing what siege engines they might, the Knights of Hyrule likewise prepared fortifications for battle. But the Knights saw that even with the soldiers to aid them their numbers would not be enough, nor would their hearts permit them to fall upon their brethren to kill them, and the sorrow of the looming turmoil rested upon them. If they fell, it would not be without mercy to their own.

But the master of the Sheikah, being observant the Gerudo forces, and also weighed down with sorrow for his hastiness in accusing the Hylian king, sought forgiveness of him, saying that his words were rash, and that now in the hour of the Hylian’s greatest need, the Sheikah would aid them. And would not the Goddesses preserve them? And the Hylian king was gracious, and forgave all, and even showed his further magnificence by pleading forgiveness of the master, saying he had acted out of anger, and had been foolish. Thus was born the alliance of the Hylians and the Sheikah, who are now as one race. And I did prophesy concerning the Hylians and the Sheikah:

[indecipherable hieroglyphs—early Hylian origin]

~I am Mudora, Sage of Shadow and keeper of these secrets

And then began the Battle of the Betrayers, with the races of Hyrule locked in combat and seeking each other’s destruction. Gerudo warriors fought alongside Hylian dissenters against the Knights of Hyrule and their sworn allies, the Sheikah. Many knights and good men fell by the hands of those who were their brothers, but who had been overcome by greed and hatred. And as the battle waxed, Ganondorf, the very Gerudo lord, went himself with his guards to infiltrate the castle by way of secrecy. And when they had come to the Inner Chamber of the Castle, and were about to take the Hylian king, the Sheikah master and all of his fellows set upon Ganondorf’s guards, and caught the lord, to threaten him with his life.

When the Gerudo lord saw his life in danger, and nigh forfeit, yet he did not cease to boast. But the Hylian king silenced him and swore his tongue would be forfeit, if not his life, except he should hear the terms that the king was to offer. And these were the terms: that Ganondorf would leave the Hylian kingdom with his forces and never return unless it was to swear his allegiance to the Hylian royal crown, and that the dissenters should be delivered into Hylian custody for punishment.

Indignant, Ganondorf saw no option but to agree. He and his forces left, never to return, or so it seemed. The dissenters were left to the punishment of their betrayal; that they should be used for labor in the building of a tomb behind the graveyard in Kakariko for those valiant souls who had fallen by their hands. They were to live there, under the watchful eye of the Sheikah, until they joined their fallen brothers in death, and thus expiate their shame. Only their children, when they were old enough to bring honor to their family’s name, would be permitted to leave.

And the Sheikah provided assistance in rebuilding the town and finishing the building of the temple. And when it was finished, the temple was dedicated to Orda, the Goddess of Time. And for ever after the Sheikah served the Hylian royal family, and the women of the Sheikah were the nursemaids to the Hylian’s royal children, and the Sheikah men trained the Knights of Hyrule in stealth and combat. And thus the prophecy is fulfilled.

Written 1350 HR
Concerning the Sages of Hyrule and the Blade of Evil’s Bane

In this year the queen of Hyrule, Zanna by name, began to have prophetic dreams concerning a King of Evil who should obtain the Power of Gold and rule the land with tyranny. Now it was not uncommon in the Days of the Ancients, when a great evil beset the land, that the women of the Hylian royal family were visited with a dream or vision of the Goddesses which were soon proved true. And as the matter affected all of Hyrule, the queen took it upon herself to call together representatives of the races of Hyrule that the matter might be well considered.

Therefore the call went out that each race should be represented by its wisest and most trustworthy member, and that these should be called Sages; those who would counsel one with another concerning the affairs of Hyrule, and the spiritual representative of their race to the Goddesses. And Ganondorf Dragmire, King of the Gerudo, appointed Itzah, his favored hand-maiden, to be the Gerudo Sage. And Itzah was given quarters in the castle until the first council could be held. Then the king of Hyrule appointed his chief advisor, even the wise young Rauru of the Temple (previously the apprentice of Potho of the Temple, Faroe keep him) to represent the Hylians. And the Sheikah chose their Master (I who write to you, even Mudora) to be their representative.

And thus the Sages had been chosen, and the council was to be held in the Inner Sanctum of the Temple of Time. But then three other representatives appeared at the gates of the Hylian kingdom requesting an audience with the council. They appeared with no notice of their coming, and said they had been sent by the Goddesses in response to the summons for representatives from every race. For verily there had been other races made by the Goddesses, and now they were sending their most wise to join the other Sages. And these are the names of the Sages who were sent by the Goddesses:

Gor Darmon, of the Gorons, a people of flesh, but protected by stony backs and resistant to fire—they dwell high above Kakariko, near the volcanic crater of Death Mountain; Lutai, of the Zora, an aquatic people, with fins on their heads and arms and flippered feet—they dwell in the caverns from whence flows the Great Waterfall which feeds all the rivers of Hyrule and ends in the Great Hylian Lake; and Aako, of the Koroki, a people ever young, always clothed in green—they are the children of the Great Dekku Tree which sustains life within the Forgotten Wood.

Thus was born the Council of Sages; three chosen by the Hylians, Sheikah and Gerudo, and three appointed by the Goddesses. And the first council of the Sages was held within the Inner Sanctum of the Temple of Time, and the matter of importance was the portal to the Golden Land, which portal was contained in the Sanctuary of the temple; and it was asked whether it should be accessible to the races, or restricted that none should use it. The discussion was heated, with Itzah contending for free use of the portal by all, while Rauru contended that some means must be established whereby no ill-meaning person should obtain the Power of Gold. But after each of the Sages had spoken their part, they were not able to reach an agreement that would satisfy all. It was therefore the decision of the council that its members should pray for guidance and follow the will of the Goddesses, however it might be manifest.

And so it was that when the Hylian queen prayed she heard the voices of the Goddesses saying that she should tell the Council of the dream she had received. And so she came to the Sages and told them of a King of Evil in the shape of a wild boar that entered the Golden Land and seized the Power of Gold. And when he emerged with his armies there were none to stop him. But then the King of Evil was opposed by the Goddess of Courage, and the Goddess of Wisdom repelled him, and the Goddess of Power sealed him away. Then the Goddess of Time undid all of these events, and locked them away with a key in the form of a sword. And the Goddesses gave the sword to a child, who was to be a Great Hero who would travel through time to save the land from darkness. And the sword rested in a temple of light.

And when the queen had told of her dream it was received by the Sages as an answer from the Goddesses. But when they speculated as to the interpretation thereof, none of the Sages could agree what it was. Some said the Evil must be an old Power reborn. Others said one of the ancient magical swords should be recovered. But the queen knew the true meaning, and she told them that a new sword must be forged and imbued with the power to repel evil, even an evil with that power which was granted by the Triforce; and it would be a key, and if placed in the Temple of Time it would close the portal and prevent any from entering therein. And if any evil were, perchance, to claim the Triforce there would be a hero provided by the Goddesses, even a child, to confront that evil with the Blade of Evil’s Bane.

And so it was given to Gor Darmon, the Sage of the Gorons, to temper the blade in volcanic fire that it might be strong, and it would be cooled by Lutai in Zora waters that it might be keen. And when the blade was finished, Aako prayed over it and enchanted it with his magic that none but one with a pure heart and unsurpassed courage could wield it. And the Goddesses blessed it, that it might repel even those powers granted by the Triforce. Then a pedestal was built within the Temple of Time wherein the Master Sword might rest, for thus was the blade called after it had been enchanted. And the people called it the Blade of Evil’s Bane. And when the blade was placed within the pedestal, the gate to the Golden Land was shut, and never opened again. And I prophesy concerning the Sages and the Hero:

[indecipherable hieroglyphs—early Hylian origin]
~I am Mudora, Sage of Shadow and keeper of these secrets

And after I made this prophecy we Sages knew that we must take for ourselves places of sanctuary, and build up temples to the Goddesses in hidden places. And we made us magic songs which we could use to take us to the Inner Sanctum of the temple in times of need and for council. And so the council was adjourned, and its members dismissed.

Written 1374 HR
Concerning the Author’s Fate

One final message I have for you to whom I write. If you have possession of this volume, it means I am dead. It was necessary for these secrets to be kept as long as they might be, but all things must one day come to light. And I have yet somewhat to say concerning what I know shall come to pass.

I have seen Itzah’s disquiet at what we Sages have done, and rightly so, for it means a more difficult task for her master. Yet she has played the part—and though her prayers have not been sincere, though she was reluctant to add her magic to ours as we enchanted the Blade of Evil’s Bane, though she would have fled to tell her master of our affairs, still she has acted the Sage. And in so doing, she has accomplished what was crucial for the bringing of these events to pass.

And so I must bid you farewell. For I foresee that she will have need of these, my writings, which contain the plans of the Temple of Time and its passages in order to infiltrate the temple without being detected. And if so, then I know that she will kill me to obtain them, for her loyalty was never to the council, but to her master. It was ever thus in her eyes, if not in her voice or manner.

And so I write first to my servant Abrum. I speak by way of chastisement, but also by way of love, even that which a father would have for his son. I know that the servants of Lord Ganondorf have seduced you with power and feigned love. If I am dead, then you will have betrayed me and joined their cause. I do not censure you for your zeal, only your lack of judgment. I have seen that you were ever so, and to you I say that you are never unwelcome among the Sheikah, your people. You shall retain forever your own choice; make of it what you will, and not what others will.

And my greetings to you, Lord Ganondorf—I do not call you Great. You will not need to look far for what you seek. Though this volume has been enchanted to hide the deeper secrets of the Hylian Royal Family, you will not need them. Though it contains within its hidden pages the histories of our races, you know enough of this. And though its enchanted record lays plain the mysteries of magic we Sheikah have uncovered, you will have my servant to instruct you in the ways of our magic. He knows enough to serve you, but he does not know all the magical secrets of our tribe. I know that you will use my servant to your ends, manipulating his sympathies to draw the Master Sword from its pedestal because your evil heart will not permit you to touch even the hilt. But you shall find that your manipulations are for naught. Despite your preparations your progress shall be halted before you reach the Sanctuary of the Blade of Evil’s Bane. For now that I am dead and you are in possession of this volume the Great Hylian King has already arranged to thwart your plans. You shall not prevail in this thing. Nevertheless, you shall find within the mundane record precisely what you need for the unfolding of your treachery. And I will not hinder you.

I do not write to you, Itzah, for your shadow looms ever nearer even as I write this. May Nayru the Wise judge you according to your deeds.

But to those who shall read these words long after their ink has faded, and who learn these tales long after this paper has crumbled, know that I welcome death. I am unafraid of what lies beyond this mortality. But not to have served those I am indebted to—of that I am very much afraid. Know that my only regret is that I could not fulfill my purpose and be of more aid to my people. I would that I may yet serve those who come after me even in death. I commend myself to the Goddesses greatly troubled as that end quickly approaches.

And finally to you my fellow Sages I write by way of commendation. I commend to you the name of she whom I will to be my successor. The following is hidden by the manner which I have taught Rauru, Sage of Light, and shall be uncovered by him in due course when my successor should be chosen:

[indecipherable hieroglyphs—early Hylian origin]
~I am Mudora, Sage of Shadow and keeper of these secrets

Chapter I ~ Council of the Sages

1374 HR

The infant seemed to sleep soundly, folded tightly in the bundle of clothes nestled in its mother’s arms. The rhythmic undulation of her torso counterpoint to the gallop of the horse did no more to wake the child than the commotion from which they had just escaped. The cold night air soothed her troubled face, her neck still warmed by the fires that billowed behind them. At her side, a pool of sticky red soaked her white nightgown, plastering the cloth to her thigh.

The woman swooned for only a moment, then recovered. Her taut form, lit by the churning blaze, leaned forward as her mount guided them further from danger, further from the whip of bowstrings, the musk of battle. Bars of shadow flickered over them as they passed behind trees, hastily forging into their only avenue of escape, their only hope of refuge. Into the forest they fled, and the child slept on. Only when the woman could no longer hear the roar of the flames did she halt the horse in its wild path. She turned her green eyes skyward, as if to ask the moon for guidance, but found nothing. Then, as she looked down, she saw a sight only heard of—there, next to the root of a large tree, stood a small green-clad child. The woman swooned.

* * *

Miles away, above a vast desert, the soldier seemed to sleep soundly, his body limp against his pole. A dry breeze drew up clouds of dust over the barren waste which stretched out in every direction from his post. His perch was a tower of wood scaffolding, lashed together with knots, simple but strong. So great had been his fatigue in the heat of the desert sun that night had fallen heavily on his eyes. It was his fatigue that betrayed him that night.

From somewhere out of the darkness an arrow tipped with fire streaked through the air and struck his chest, just below the heart. His eyes shot open, flickering like wet stones in the light of the flame as he fell against the railing, the fire catching on the wooden crossbars, then the rope knots. In moments, the tower became a glowing beacon in the night, and from somewhere beneath the glare of the blood-moon, the hidden archer advanced, unseen on the waste.

* * *

High in an upper bedchamber of the castle, the young queen seemed to sleep soundly under a thick quilt, her golden head resting serenely on a down pillow. The angle of her neck suggested dignity, and the shape of her brow displayed wisdom. Her pointed ears indicated that she was of the Hylian race—those favored of the Gods. Vigilant guards stood by, white men wrapped in white cloth, wearing solemn faces. Not asleep, but meditative, their stillness shamed the silence in the room. One might perhaps have heard the curtains whisper.

In moments, however, the queen’s wise brows tightened, her muscles tensing, her thin body curling. She moaned as one wounded, then suddenly screamed, violating the sacred silence. In response her dutiful guards suddenly animated, acting as if in well-rehearsed concert—one was immediately at her side, another lit the black wicks of a candelabrum on the bed-table, and a third arrived with a cool wet cloth. As they comforted her with soothing voices, the young woman pushed herself upright in her bed panting and heaving. After a moment, she leaned back against the headboard and pressed the wet cloth to her forehead, staring into the candlelight. When she spoke it was thin, but certain: “Din is angry.”

* * *

The bleeding woman swooned again, her grip on the bundle of clothes in her arms loosening. The touch of a small hand on her foot restored her to attention. She drew her sleeping son closer, blinking dully, her head nodding.

The green-clad child laughed. “Mother, you must stay awake. Our father bids you come.” Something about the child’s laugh—the woman thought she had heard it before. It was merry, sweet and innocent, as if the child thought the woman were pretending to sleep. She knew the laugh from a dream, perhaps—if she was not in a dream now. The child, a little girl, walked further into the forest, the horse following. From somewhere among the weak moonlit shadows, eerie notes floated, guiding her, it seemed—keeping her awake, yet calm. The song was like the child’s laugh—innocent, and full of happiness.

It must have been her fatigue, she decided—loss of blood. The stories in her head were coming to life as she was nearing death. There certainly could not have been a lone child guiding her through the forest. As they wandered through the bracken, the woman thought she noticed the same gnarled stump at least twice. She was dreaming, she thought. It must be. After some time, she could not say how long, the music had stopped, and so had they. The green-clad child was some distance ahead, standing in the opening of a large stone grotto. The little girl smiled sweetly and laughed again. “Do not be afraid, Mother, it is safe here. Our father wishes to see you. Come.”

Within her arms, the woman’s son finally began to stir, but quickly fell still again.

The horse again walked after the child, between the stones, down a slope of earth thickly carpeted with grass. Passing through a short tunnel, they emerged at the edge of a large clearing; a bowl of earth covered in the same thick carpet of grass at the opening. The place was bordered by a tall wall of natural rock upon which grew a tightly set fence of trees of every variety. From the trees hung a thick net of vines with large leaves which reached down even to the forest floor. The whole floor was dappled with stirring shadows as the morning light filtered through the boughs of an enormous tree growing in the center of the clearing which must have been at least half a mile high at its peak. The trunk itself filled almost a third of the clearing. And the most curious was a sight to outweigh it all, finally convincing the woman of either her dream-state or insanity—stretched across the near half of the tree was the rough face of a gnarled old man.

“Father,” the girl child said, addressing the enormous tree-face, “I have brought you the child and its mother.”

* * *

“My queen,” said one of the white men, “what have you seen?”

The young queen stared into the flickering light of the candelabrum. She lowered the cloth from her head, threw back her bedcovers, and crossed the room to her wardrobe. “Take me to my husband,” she said, “and summon the Sages…what is left of them.”

* * *

The morning sun streamed through the arched windows of the library casting dusty shafts of light on a long table layered with paper—large sheets of unrolled parchment scrawled with names of neighboring areas, marked with colors representing political borders; scrolls bearing hastily written notes or information regarding the positions of soldiers. Just outside the pool of light the young king’s head lay upon the table, a quill still resting in the loose grip of his work-hardened hands, the crimson ink long since dried. Embers glowed in the fireplace on one end of the hall, while presently a knock came from the door on the other. The king raised his head in time for the Captain of the Royal Guard to open the door. The captain stepped inside.

“My Liege,” he said, bowing with one hand to his breast.

The king cleared his throat. “Report.”

“Sire, the Arbiter’s Grounds was attacked last night during the second watch. The outermost tower was burned to the ground. Our scouts have still found no sign of the attackers.”

As the captain spoke, the king’s eyes focused on a map directly in front of him marked with numerous red dots, all surrounding the maze of lines that represented the Arbiter’s Grounds. His eyes flickered over a spot representing the Arbiter’s central chamber. Without looking up, the king spoke. “And the prisoner?”

“Still in custody, Sire.”

The king released a long breath and rested against the back of his chair. He wiped the sleep from one eye with a thumb. “Has there been any news regarding the skirmishes on the Town?”

“No word yet, Sire. The attackers continue to remain unknown. They are gone before any reinforcements can arrive, and they have still eluded our trackers. The townspeople are being evacuated to Kakariko village as you directed.”

“Good.” After a short pause the king added, “Who was the guard on that tower, Captain?”

“Hansen, son of Rannon, Sire.”

The king’s eyes widened, “And he was caught in the fire?”

“Yes, Sire,” the captain looked at his boots.

The king lowered his voice. “Din keep him, poor soul.” After a moment’s consideration, the king dipped his quill in a bottle of crimson ink and let a drop fall on a small square representing the outmost tower. The king rested the quill in the bottle and then turned in his seat to face the captain directly. The captain raised his head, inhaling shortly. “I expect to hear from you as soon as two towers have been constructed to replace our lost one, Captain. Be certain that each has two men; one above, one below.”

“They have already begun, Sire. It shall be as you say.” The captain bowed again, one hand to his breast.

“Very well.” The captain turned to leave. “Colin?” said the king. The captain paused. “I’m so sorry. Please tell your uncle Rannon that he has my condolences.”

It was a moment before the captain responded. “Thank you, Daphnes,” he said. “You have always been good to us. You are like a brother to me…”

The king looked at Colin kindly, but the captain did not meet his eyes. “Colin please, sit,” he said.

The captain did not sit, but cleared his throat. Without turning he said, “I will be sending my wife ahead to Kakariko, Daphnes. I promise you I will not fail you or Zethra.”

The king rose from his seat and approached the captain. “I know Colin.” The king placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I trust you with the lives of all my loved ones, most of all my wife. Colin, I would ask you…” the king’s voice faltered.

The captain looked up, searching his friend’s face. “What is it Daphnes? Is Zethra well?”

The king’s eyes glittered with wetness and he offered a half-hearted smile. “She has been dreaming things of late, Colin, terrible nightmares, and…and I do not know whether they will cease. It may be the Goddesses’ doing…or it may be something sinister. The prophecies of the Queen of Hyrule always prove true. What if…I fear that she will come to harm or that…” His eyes dashed around as if he were watching scenes play out in his mind. The king looked the captain in the eye as he pressed his palm across his mouth and brought it down over his young beard. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

The captain clasped the king’s hands in both of his. “Daphnes, I swear to you no harm will come to Zethra so long as I breathe.”

The king nodded. “Thank you, Colin. May the Goddesses protect Karin as well.” The king’s eyes smiled through the wetness. “Assign a unit of your best men to escort her to Kakariko, will you?”

“I will,” the captain nodded, grinning. “Thank you, brother.” And he closed the door gently behind him as he left.

* * *

Barely audible at first, then increasing in volume and intensity, a deep throated hum filled the clearing. The sound rattled the fittings on the horse’s bridle, but it did not whinny or turn. It was as if the horse regarded the sound as the most natural and expected thing to happen at that moment. The woman suddenly realized the sound was coming from below the clearing, deep within the earth. All at once the eyes of the tree-face opened, and it spoke. Its voice was breathy and hollow, but deep as the earth, and the wind which came from its mouth smelled of rich brown soil, and suddenly the woman felt strength flow into her.

“Mother, I greet thee with sorrow for thine afflictions. I have naught to give thee that thou mayst be whole, nor do my children know the arts of healing, as they can never come to harm within this forest, but while here my magic can prolong your life, even if it be so short, and thou shalt not feel thy pain. Yet, know that I have aught to speak to thee, and then thy body must lie down to the earth.”

The woman knew of the Sheikah tribes which practiced magic and the shadow arts, and she reasoned that if she had truly seen all she had, and she was not dreaming, she could not deny that it was as the great tree had said. Surely she felt no pain, and so did not question that she would live long enough to speak for herself. Nevertheless she could feel her body passing, and so it did not matter now what she thought was possible. “Then I thank you, Master,” she said, respectfully. “With whom do I speak, that I may know my benefactor?”

The earth hummed again, as before, but only briefly, and then the tree responded. “I am the Father Dekku, and the Koroki are my children.” The girl child turned to the woman, smiling, reminding her again of some dream she must have had, somehow more near now. The great tree continued, “But know, Mother, that thy time is short, and soon thou shalt know me well. I must speak to thee of thy son, that which thou bearest next to thy breast. Knowest thou of his fate?”

“He is my son, sir, and I pray than Din be in him, for might; and Faroe, for valiance; and Nayru, for justice.” The woman looked at her sleeping child, her cheeks wetting with love, knowing she would not see him grown. “But I do not know of his fate.”

“A blessing well spoken, Mother,” said the tree.

She touched her son’s face, and held him close to her. “Please, sir, I see that thou must be an oracle. What may I know of him from thee? Is he to be great among his fellows?”

“He is, Mother. His name shall be had in the legends of thy people for countless generations. And I ask that my children may keep him until Faroe be in him, for valiance, and he is prepared for his destiny.”

The young mother cradled her son in her arms, and he stirred, but did not wake. “Why does he yet sleep, sir? And do we dream these things?”

“From the moment thy child was within my wood, I kept him, and he slept. For he shall see evils which are not yet created, and do them battle, and why should he be plagued with more? And though thou dreamest not, yet others have dreamed, and shall tell of thee.”

And as the woman gazed at her son, her sleeping joy, she began to feel very thin, and knew that her time was spent. “Yes, Master Dekku, Father of the Koroki, it is as you have said. I go. And take my child. Will you raise him in the ways of the Goddesses?”

“Yes, Mother. All shall be as would please Them. Come, now, and sleep next to me. It is time for the earth to catch you.”

The young mother lowered her son into the arms of the attending girl child, who cradled him, smiling at him sweetly. “Goodbye, my son,” said the young mother, “Nayru keep you until I see you again. Goodbye.” And the horse carried her to one side of the great tree, where she alighted, and laid her down, and died.

* * *

The Inner Sanctum of the temple was a large circular room, made of white marble and capped by a high dome. The terrace which circumvented the room on the second level was flanked on all sides by stained glass windows and supported from below by an arcade made of columns bearing peaked arches. In the center of the room was a circular stone dais upon which rested nine high-backed chairs, facing inward, all wooden with lush upholstery. On this occasion, the chairs were occupied by the king and queen; the Captain of the Royal Guard to the king’s right; and to the queen’s left sat the Sages of Hyrule. The chair immediately to the captain’s right sat empty. Its emptiness did not go unnoticed, however, and the air was stifled by a sense of loss.

Presently, the queen stood. A jeweled circlet graced her golden head. From under her long purple vest flowed a white gown. From her golden belt hung the apron of her station, bearing the crest of the royal family—a bird with wings outstretched, bearing above it, in place of its head, a triangle made of three smaller triangles each embroidered of gold thread.

She spoke: “Since the days of the Hero King, the daughters of the royal family of Hyrule have always been gifted with the Light of the Goddesses,” she began. “It is had in the legends of our people that they are given dreams, which shortly are proven true. This you know.” The sages and captain waited quietly. The queen stood erect, her gloved hands folded before her. “I have had such a dream.” The next moment the air changed, suddenly charged with tension; none in audience moved.

“My dream was thus,” the queen continued, quietly but clearly. “I was in a field, near a wood, where blue soldiers fought red demons. The soldiers fought bravely, but the demons spat fire, and the field became an inferno.” As she spoke her eyes followed invisible warriors as they raced after their enemies—she squinted faintly as they were halted by sudden gouts of imaginary flame. “And out from among the blue fled a mother, with her green child. Faroe took them, and within her arms she hid them, though the mother perished in her embrace.

“Then I was on a high tower, in a waste of darkness, watching Din’s shrine. For she was imprisoned within her own shrine, and became angry, and summoned her children to free her from captivity. Then the moon turned to blood, and her fury shot out of the dark waste and I was consumed.” The queen’s voice caught in her throat and she looked at her folded hands. Her husband reached forward and grasped one of her hands as a tear slid out of each of her eyes. “I could do nothing,” she finally said. “It was done,” and she eased herself into her wooden seat.

The first sage to the queen’s left watched the queen as she sat. He was a balding man with pointed ears and thick hair on his cheeks, peppered with age. He wore an orange hooded robe with a red mantle and apron. On his lap lay a green book. His expression was of concern, primarily for the queen who seemed preoccupied with thoughts far from their current surroundings. “This has been the first dream given to a Hylian queen since your grandmother,” he said. “I was young then, but I remember what it meant for our people.”

“I know, Rauru,” the queen responded. “It does not bode well for us.”

“Hero,” said the small boy seated to the right of Rauru. He had a pleasant grin and intelligent eyes that were such a deep green as to be almost black. He wore green clothes that appeared as if they had been made of very large leaves. His feet dangled over the edge of his wooden chair and did not touch the floor. His childish playfulness made it seem as if he, among all the Sages, might not know that one of their number had been murdered and another was still missing. Or perhaps he knew but did not see why it should be a matter of concern.

“I think Aako is right,” said the next Sage, Gor Darmon of the Goron tribe. Like all Gorons, his brown body was bulky and dense, and upon his back had grown large deposits of minerals from the diet of rocks that served their people as a food source. “The child in Zethra’s dream may be the hero that was spoken of in Mudora’s prophecy.”

“Nayru keep him,” said Lutai, the Zora sage. She turned her finned head to look at the empty seat to her left. Like all Zoras her skin was a tint of slightly translucent blue and protruding from her arms and legs were fins like those of a fish.

The captain spoke. “May it please your Majesties, esteemed ones…”

“Speak,” said the king, not unkindly.

“We have questioned the prisoner, Mudora’s murderer,” the captain continued, “and we believe her to be…to be…” The captain shifted in his seat; that which would otherwise have been occupied by the Sage of the Gerudo people, who had not been accounted for.

“Itzah,” Zethra finished, comprehending.

“She was in disguise,” said Gor Darmon staring through the center of the dais. “Must have been. I did not recognize her when I came in and found…” he, too, looked over at the empty seat.

“But why would she have done this?” asked Lutai, “Did she not agree to the counsels we held? Were not her loyalties…”

“Pig,” said Aako.

“Yes, I believe you are right, Aako,” said Rauru. “She had never ceased being her master’s servant. It is as Mudora said in his final words—blessed are the Goddesses that we have them.” He lifted the green book from his lap to look at the spine. There in the very center of the spine was a glyph. Translated from the Hylian it read Mudora, Sage of Shadow, secret keeper.

“Forgive me, master,” the captain said, “but what is the significance of the book?”

Rauru’s attention was pulled from the glyph. He looked at the captain and knotted his bushy eyebrows together. “The book was stolen from Mudora the same night that he was murdered, not three days hence. Mudora himself predicted this in his writings and accordingly he wrote a message to Lord Ganondorf knowing he would read it. He also must have suspected we would come into possession of it, as he left the Sages a message as well. I found Mudora’s book last night in the nave of the temple between the altar and the Door of Time. His Majesty commanded the Door closed and locked as soon as we heard that Mudora had…” Rauru saw Lutai bow her finned head and he faltered. “…as soon as we heard what had happened,” he continued, “and knew that his secrets were jeopardized. Since then I have not let the book leave my possession—it is the only evidence we have as to who had entered the temple.” The captain seemed to assimilate this information.

“Has the lock held thus far?” the king asked.

“Yes,” replied Rauru. Then he spoke to his fellow Sages. “We have sealed the Door with three stones which can only be activated if they are brought together on the altar of the temple. The enchantment has been bound to this,” Rauru now pulled out a small flute-like instrument from somewhere beneath his robes. It was a hollow lump of blue clay the size of a large potato. On its protruding neck it bore three triangles arranged to form a larger triangle. “Masters Sharp and Flat have already enchanted the Ocarina, and I have asked Orda to bless it, and we have faith that she will preserve the enchantments through the dusts of time. The final element necessary to open the Door is the melody of the Hylian Royal Family which must be played on this ocarina while standing before the altar.”

“Show them the Stones, Rauru,” said the queen.

Rauru produced three medium-sized gems; a ruby, a sapphire, and an emerald. Each was set in gold edging and all glittered brightly in the light filtering through the stained-glass above them. “I thought it best to entrust them to the peoples away from this land, the Gorons, Zora, and Koroki.”

The king spoke. “I agree. It is proposed that the stones which lock the Door of Time be placed in the care of the peoples of Hyrule; the Gorons, Zora, and Koroki by name. Your favors?”
“Aye,” said the queen.

“Aye,” said Rauru.

Aako nodded vigorously.

“Aye,” Gor Darmon growled.

“Aye,” said Lutai.

“Master Captain,” said the king, “would you cast a favor in absence of our beloved Mudora?”

The captain looked sincerely flattered. “It is an honor, Majesty, Nayru keep him,” he said, bowing with one hand to his chest. Then, after pausing to give the question consideration he said, “The entrance to the portal should remain secure. It is a good thing. Aye, then.”

“Then we have six to affirm; it is agreed,” said the king. And Rauru stood and entrusted the emerald to Aako, the ruby to Gor Darmon, and the sapphire to Lutai. As Rauru sat, the king spoke again. “It is crucial that these stones be handled with the utmost of secrecy and protection. Speak of them to no one. If they are discovered, it may mean the invasion of the Golden Realm by that Great Evil spoken of in the prophecies.” Each of the Sages nodded their assent. Aako looked through the green gem he had been given as if it were a monocle.

“And what of the Ocarina?” said the captain, addressing Rauru. “Will you keep it, Master Sage? You are the oldest and wisest of the Sages.”

“Old I am. But I am not the oldest, Master Captain. And may my wisdom be proven. The Ocarina is the most essential part of the enchantment holding the Door of Time in place. My monks and I continue to maintain a constant vigilance in the temple. I would not keep a key in the same building as the lock if I did not wish it to be opened,” said Rauru looking at the captain directly. The captain looked down at the arm of the chair in which he sat. He seemed to become vaguely interested in the grain of the wood. “I had hoped,” Rauru continued, offering the Ocarina to the queen, “that her Majesty would oblige me…”

She looked at the instrument in Rauru’s hands, pondering it. “I know it is only more to be concerned for,” he said, “but I can think of none more wise, with greater good in her heart; with greater resistance to evil.” For a moment Rauru thought he saw a look of weariness pass over her young face, but as soon as he saw it, it was gone.

“It is now my turn to be honored,” Zethra said demurely. “I would not deny this great gift,” and she extended a hand to take the Ocarina.

Rauru reached out and placed his other hand on the queen’s before she took the instrument. Their eyes met. Rauru spoke quietly so only she could hear. “If ever you feel more burdened than you can bear, my dear child…”

“I know I can rely on you, uncle,” she replied, a weak smile crossing her lips. Rauru removed his hand and Zethra took the instrument, holding it against her breast.

“Oh, and that reminds me, Your Majesty,” said Rauru, addressing the king, “Master Flat bid me return this to you.” Rauru drew an ivory conductor’s baton from within his sleeve. It was carved with complex curled forms. “It has been enchanted as you directed. He wishes to consult with you another time regarding its possible use with a pipe organ.”

The king regarded the baton with wonder. “Thank you, Rauru.”

“With that matter settled,” growled Gor Darmon, “we would know the interpretation of the vision which Queen Zethra of the Hylians has seen.”

“Hero,” Aako repeated.

“Yes,” said Lutai, addressing the queen, “do you suppose the child to be the Hero of the prophecy, as Aako suggests?”

The queen’s eyes stared unseeing through the center of the stone dais. “If he is the Hero, Faroe shall not be in him yet for many years. Nevertheless, the evil is present now. Din is certainly angry. If it is her servant, Itzah, who has been imprisoned, Din will surely wish to answer her servant’s prayers with deliverance. Let us hope she has continued to be lax in her sincerity. A judgment will need to be made, and a sentence wrought. Let us pray Nayru grant us wisdom. We must convene at the Arbiter’s Grounds and pass judgment on our prisoner, whether she is Sage or no.”

Those in audience assented. Then the king turned to the captain. “Colin, do you think this may be connected with…Hansen?” The captain shared a significant glance with the king. The Sages looked on with perplexed faces; all but Aako, who looked like he was the only one who knew a very good secret.

“What is it, Daphnes?” said Zethra, finally. The king nodded to his friend.

“My queen,” said the captain, “I would tell you of one of our finest men, a cousin of mine, whose fate I suspect you have somehow shared. If my thought is not amiss, her Majesty saw his end as it occurred; Hansen was upon the outmost tower guarding the Arbiter’s Grounds. By granting you this dream, the Goddesses may have given us a clue as to how my cousin’s life ended.” The captain paused, then stared at his knees. His fingers wrapped around the knob on the arm of his chair, the knuckles of his thick, rough hands paling with the tension. The king turned to his wife and placed his hand on hers. She gripped it immediately. Then the king laid his other hand on the captain’s clenched fist. The captain’s head shook only slightly, and then he looked up again and cleared his throat.

“Please, Colin, continue,” Zethra said. She had turned to face him directly, across her husband. The eyes of all the Sages were on him.

“May it please my esteemed audience,” he began, more composed, “the queen said that Din had called up her children to free her. If Din stands in the place of…” here again he shifted in his chair, very aware to whom it had belonged, “…of the prisoner, Itzah of the Gerudo, then who would be her children but those of her tribe, the Gerudo themselves. They are all of them skilled in the arts of stealth, and our men were never able to find signs of the attackers. The Gerudo also built the Arbiter’s Grounds as a temple to Din before the Hylia occupied it in the days of the Queen Zanna. This suggests to me that the Gerudo are behind the attacks of the Grounds. They may wish to reclaim it, but hesitate to show themselves until they can ensure that they are able to take it completely.”

Rauru was the first to speak, and when he did it seemed to bring the others out of a trance of pensiveness. “That is an accusation of war, Master Captain. The Gerudo would not defy their king’s vow of truce. You are not old enough to remember the delicate balance that was accomplished between the Gerudo tribes and our own people.”

“I know enough,” the captain rebutted tersely. “The Lord of the Gerudo was a power-monger!”

“He was a madman!” Rauru bellowed, standing erect and imposing, “bent on entering the Golden Land to seize the Power of Gold—that artifact that grants the desires of any who touch it. If he had, like so many others maddened by the prospect of limitless power, he never would have come back. If he had entered he would have doomed their whole race to disappear.”

“Then good riddance!” yelled the captain, meeting the Sage in the middle of the dais with murderous eyes. It was to the captain as if he challenged not a Sage but the Gerudo king himself; the one he held responsible for Hansen’s death.

Almost immediately the king stood up. “Captain,” he said loudly. Then, more quietly, but with no less concern, “Colin, please, I know you’re grieving…” The captain acquiesced. He straightened his tunic and turned to sit. Rauru waited, nonplussed, until the captain was once again in his seat. Then the Sage sat as well.

“Why does the venerable Rauru receive no reprimand?” the captain said quietly, as if to no one in particular.

“Captain,” said Zethra firmly, “your presence here is welcome, and your views invited, but do not add insolence to impertinence. In the council we all are equal, as the matters that pertain to us pertain to all. Rauru represents our people in council. Do not give the other peoples of Hyrule a mistaken impression.” The captain glanced at Aako, whose tongue protruded from his mouth as he folded his arms. The captain did not know at that moment whether to laugh or follow suit, so he compromised and folded his arms. “Now, captain, if you are finished,” said Zethra, “then remain still and hear wisdom.”

Lutai spoke, carefully, so as not to condescend. “As you know, captain, the Gerudo are all women, save for the one male born to them once in a hundred years. It is their only saving grace that their king remains young in body into his old age. The man had no consideration for his people. They would have no king, and no means of perpetuating their race. To lose him would be to lose their way of life. It was therefore incumbent upon the Hylians to care for the Gerudo more than their own king. The man had to be stopped, but not killed, if they were to continue as a race.” The captain’s hands leapt to the rests of his seat. Reacting to the incredulous look on the captain’s face, Lutai pressed forward. “For,” she said, “the Goddesses created the races as a balance—a means of keeping each other in check.” This last word was put a little more forcefully, and coupled with the warning glare of the queen it served to subdue the captain.

“This is why,” concluded Gor Darmon, “the king of the Gerudo had to be threatened with his own life when he invaded. He had to be forced to agree to a truce. It is difficult enough trying to convince the Gerudo that we mean them no harm when their king is threatened, much less if they were accused of acting contrary to the word of their king to make war. We must be interdependent if we are to keep peace. To turn on each other is to commit the same crime you seem so anxious to punish. There are others grieving here, Master Captain.”

The captain looked as if he had just swallowed a particularly dry piece of bread. “So be it,” he said, looking at the floor. “Who then, esteemed ones, do you suppose is perpetrating the attacks?”

“If I may, my queen…” said Rauru, holding the green volume up with a finger in one of the pages.

“Please, Rauru.”

He opened the volume and reviewed what he read there. “In Mudora’s last words he spoke of his servant betraying him for the sake of ‘power and feigned love.’ It may be that his servant, Abrum by name, was seduced. It would be less likely that the Gerudo would disobey their king than that they obtained an insider, a traitor, to do the work for them. They are bound by their own honor not to act against us, but to have it done would not be beyond them.”

The king sat forward. “But who would have seduced Abrum? It would not have been Itzah. Abrum was Mudora’s closest assistant. He knew Itzah as well as any of us. And she was in disguise when she confronted Mudora. She must have had an accomplice.”

“Dancer,” said Aako, looking at the Goron Sage beside him.

“Yes, perhaps…” said Gor Darmon.

“What is it?” asked Lutai.

Gor Darmon’s wide brown face furrowed, making it appear like a large leather raisin. “There were attendants that accompanied Itzah when she would stay in the village. I would see them there sometimes when I came down from the mountain to visit. Abrum would show me the books he was binding for Kakariko’s library and I would teach him how to wrestle like a Goron. After our spars we would relax in the hot springs and Itzah’s attendants would dance for us. They were very good,” he added.

“But if Itzah’s attendants seduced Mudora’s servant, is that not the same as the Gerudo…” the captain began.

“No, Master Captain. It isn’t,” said Lutai, now becoming impatient. “Once Itzah became a Sage, she became a representative to her race not her tribe. It is for the same reason that Rauru can sit in council with the king and queen of his people and be on equal terms. It is a spiritual position, not a political one. For one of the attendants of the Gerudo Sage to induce a Sheikah servant to commit an act of treachery would neither involve the Gerudo as a tribe nor be directly against the Hylians, as were the terms of the truce. If you will consider the matter, you will find it is really quite a cunning move.”

Gor Darmon continued. “Whoever attempted to enter the Temple, it was not Itzah. She was caught, and then…someone took Mudora’s book. And if Mudora’s prediction be proven, it was the Lord Ganondorf who attempted to enter the Sanctuary of the Temple. It is obvious that the taint of the Golden Land still infects the minds of some.”

“That is to be determined, Darmon,” said the king. “Nevertheless, the stain is on the race, if not the tribe. If we make it clear that Itzah has been dealt with, whoever is behind these intrigues will give pause before they try again.” Then the king gazed at his wife with a look that resembled a lion’s fierceness as he is protecting his pride. “And the judgment must be swift, and decisive. I propose that Itzah’s trial be held this very night.”

Then the queen followed her husband’s statement like an echo. “I agree. It is proposed that Itzah’s trial be held this night. Your favors?”

“Aye,” said Rauru.

Aako’s face was set as he gave one strong nod.

“Aye,” growled Gor Darmon.

“Aye,” said Lutai.

“Aye,” said the captain emphatically, pounding his fist on the arm of Itzah’s chair.

The king’s eyes rested on his friend’s zealous face before he cast his favor. “Aye,” he said finally, and exhaled wearily.

“Then it is agreed,” said the queen. “The council will reconvene on the Arbiter’s Grounds at dusk.” And when it was decided that there was nothing further to discuss, the council was dismissed.

After the Sages had risen and begun to leave, Colin leaned in to the king and whispered, “Daphnes, there is something I do not understand.”

“Speak, friend,” said the king kindly.

“Master Rauru said that he was not the oldest among the Sages. Is he still…does he speak of Master Mudora?”

“You allow your eyes to deceive you. There is a Sage among them who is older and no less wise than even Mudora, Nayru keep him.”

“But, who…?”

“Master Aako,” replied the king.

* * *

When the sun set on the Arbiter’s Grounds a struggling prisoner breathed her last, impaled against a stone of obsidian by a sword of hardened light. It was said by those who saw the moon that night that it had turned to blood. In years to come the memory of that moon and cries of pain on the wind would haunt many to their graves. A legacy of treachery and punishment had begun.

Chapter II ~ Tournament of Hyrule

1384 HR

“It has been ten years, Rauru. Ten years to the day.” Colin was kneeling before the altar of the temple. His longsword lay naked across it. Colin lifted his eyes to the gray stone Triforce over the sealed Door of Time.

“There is always hope, Colin,” said Rauru, lighting the candelabrum to one side of the Door. “We cannot give up hope.” He turned to look at the captain, resting the butt of his brass candle-lighter on the marble floor. Somewhere in the cloisters, the monks chanted their afternoon devotionals; the sacred music meandering through the temple, seeking ears to hear it.

The captain did not look away from the symbol of the Goddesses. “Hope,” he said, considering the word. Then he bowed his head and leaned forward, his hand to his breast. After a moment he stood, lifting his sword reverently from the altar and replacing it in its sheath. “Hope for what, I wonder…” he said, watching the cushion on the altar resume its natural shape, pushing out the indentation made by the sword. His eyes flitted over the three empty hollows set into the frame of the altar.

“Hope that they may be found…” said Rauru, tentatively, passing to the other side of the Door. He raised the lighter to the short, wax dripped candles.

“My wife and son are dead, Master Sage. I have known it since the survivors of her guard gave me the report.”

“You were given the report that they could not be found,” Rauru offered, “not that they had perished.” Rauru’s outline was lit from behind by the candlelight; a saintly figure looking all the more divine. A poetic coincidence, thought the captain, whose eyes had followed the sage to where he now stood. The captain arched his neck and ran one gnarled hand over his left shoulder, weary from burdens not entirely physical.

Colin sighed. “How long would you look?” he said finally, throwing his hand vaguely into the air.

“As long as I had to. The Goddess of Time is mysterious, but she reveals all,” said Rauru, reviewing Colin’s bent figure with compassion.

Shadow halved Colin's face as he turned away from the light of the candles. Rauru handed the lighter to one of the attendant monks who carried it ceremonially into the nearest side-chapel. In a moment the recess of Din’s Chapel brightened. Rauru folded his hands before him. “We do not wish for horrors, son,” said Rauru, “but the Goddesses give us too much for us not to be thankful for what we have...”

“And what do we have, Father Rauru of the Temple?” Colin hissed bitterly. “A fine sentiment from one who has no loved ones to lose.” Rauru did not speak, but turned to walk toward the cloisters. Now he was the picture of a martyr, thought Colin. He ran his hand through his stiff, sandy hair. “It was you who chose the cloth, not I, priest!” he called. Rauru stopped rigidly by one of the nave’s many columns, but did not turn. “I have seen death enough,” continued Colin. “I simply refuse to give myself more to mourn than I must. If I allow myself to believe they might still…” He waved at the air, opening his mouth, but no sound came out. A lump formed in his throat and lines of wetness streaked down his harsh face, half in the light of the candles. He ran his hand through his hair again and coughed the lump out of his throat. “I might have to…they…I don’t think I could survive if they died again.” He pressed his finger and thumb to his eyes.

“It is true I have no wife,” Rauru said quietly. “I chose to serve the Goddesses. But their joy is mine, their children mine. I may not have fathered a son; but I know the Goddesses are the source of all that is good—life, joy—and I know what it means to lose those you love.” Nayru’s Chapel brightened, softening the harsh shadow on Colin’s face.

Colin’s jaw hardened. He stooped to recover his shield from beside the altar, slinging it over his shoulder. “What do you know of love?” he said, and walked toward the entrance of the temple, pulling his cloth cowl over his head as he went.

“Master Captain,” called Rauru across the nave. Colin stopped, looking toward the vaulted ceiling. Rauru heard him exhale. “Even when those we love are gone, we can trust the Goddesses to keep them,” said Rauru. “They are not truly lost.” Light bloomed in Faroe’s Chapel.

Colin turned only halfway, not looking at the Sage. “I do not come here to pray for their return, Rauru. I come here to mourn. Can a man not mourn for his loss?”

“You may mourn if you wish, Colin, Captain of the Royal Guard. But your wife and son may not be dead.” Light issued from the final chapel and the monk who bore the brass lighter returned it to Rauru. The monk bowed and stood to one side. “Karin visited here often, if you remember. You were not the only one who loved her. Your son was blessed on this altar. I blessed him myself; you were there. I loved your son, Colin. I have loved every child of the Goddesses that has entered these walls. Who knows but that they might one day be found again.”

“I have had enough of false hope, Rauru. I have drunk it in like water in the desert, and still I am parched. I want no more of it. They are never coming back.” Colin ascended the steps at the end of the nave. When the doors of the temple were closed after him the attending monk turned to the Sage. He was only a youth, about fourteen.

“Father Rauru?” he said.

“Yes, Tobias?”

“Will we stay for the tournament today?”

“I think not. The captain has seen more of me than he pleases. I will let him alone to his thoughts. Besides, I have attended the tournament more often than I care to, I think.” They passed under the archway that led into the auxiliary hall.

“Master?”

“Yes, Tobias,” said Rauru, not unkindly.

“Do you really believe the captain's wife and son are still alive?"

Rauru paused at the alcove in the hallway. Set in the alcove was a wooden cabinet flanked by two lit candelabra. “Karin was always a determined young woman. She would hold on, even when things seemed impossible. If it was not so, she may not have married the captain.” Rauru smiled, reminiscing. He snuffed the candle-lighter. Then his face straightened as he gazed at the wisping smoke. “My heart does not wish to believe she is dead.” He soberly set the lighter inside the wooden cabinet and unbuttoned his red velvet mantle. He hung it on one of two hooks within the cabinet.

“And the boy?” said Tobias, removing his orange mantle.

“Oh, yes, Colin’s son is alive. I am certain.”

“But how can you be, Father?” said Tobias, hanging his mantle next to his master’s. Tobias’ expression was one of genuine interest.

“Because,” said Rauru, “when I blessed him the candles lit themselves.”

* * *

As Colin passed through the doors of the temple he took in both the even light of a cloudy noonday and the crisp, chilly air of a melting winter. He pulled his steel helmet firmly over his head and buckled the clasp below his chin. The doors of the temple closed behind him gently and he paused, staring at the cobbles of the temple yard. An armoured form stood beside the large stone planter to one side of the entrance doors.

“Captain,” said the young knight, flattening his hand as he touched his longest finger to his brow.

“Afton,” Colin replied, returning the salute briskly. Colin pulled his gloves from under his belt and slid his hands into them, fitting his fingers tightly into the leather.

“The captain is sufficiently prepared?” Afton asked, looking at the sky, the steps and the horizon before turning to the Captain. Colin nodded, but continued to clench one hand absentmindedly. After a moment Afton spoke again, his tone softer. “Permission to speak, sir?” When Colin did not answer Afton continued. “We come here every year, sir.”

“Yes. And?” said Colin, quietly, straightening his tunic.

“And every year you come out of those doors more upset than when you went in.”

“I'm not upset, Afton.”

“Then what do you call it, sir?”

Colin considered the knight for a moment. “Afton, how long have you been my second lieutenant?”

“Six years, sir. And proudly.” Afton stood straighter.

“In all that time have you known me to punish a man who did not deserve it?”

“No, sir.”

Colin stepped closer to the young knight. He chose his words; “I do not…Rauru means no harm, but…I won't avoid the temple just to avoid him. I need to mourn, Afton. I need to remember them. We need to remember them.”

Afton bowed his head. “I do remember my sister, Colin, Faroe keep her…”

“Oh, now you sound like the priest…” said Colin over him.

“…but I don't blame anyone for losing her.”

“Care for a walk, lieutenant?” asked Colin abruptly.

“Certainly, sir,” Afton replied, swallowing his words. He fell into step behind the captain. They marched away from the temple’s main doors, over the tightly set cobblestone path, and out of the grounds through the open iron wrought gate. Just outside the gate six other knights waited, standing in formation.

“Same as usual, men,” said Colin. “Let's give them a good show.” He drew his longsword and rested the flat of the blade against his shoulder casually. The six knights fell in behind Colin, marching in two rows with rapiers held beneath their chins, blades toward the sky. Afton followed suit, tucking the hilt of his rapier under his chin, and fell back to march point. The procession of knights weaved through the backstreets of Hyrule’s Castle Town, the steel of their spurs clinking, the weight of their boots falling loudly as they marched in rhythm toward the town’s central courtyard.

Anxiously, the crowds awaited the arrival of the captain, their king and queen. In the center of the courtyard was a grand fountain whose waters leaped up toward the clouded sky. Perched in its center was the stylized figure of a large stone owl with three triangles in place of its head. Some townspeople were sitting at the tables of the street café. Others were leaning out over the ledges of their stone balconies. Still others were huddled in groups near the shop awnings of the marketplace buying festive treats from the vendors, listening to the music of street performers, watching the jugglers, or chasing their restless children around the circular courtyard. But most of the citizens of Hyrule were gathered behind the coloured ropes that had been tied to the poles marking the boudaries of the parade. Even the soldiers, stationed at every gate, grew restless with waiting, their spears leaning lazily on their shoulders.

Suddenly, the soldiers at the eastern gate lifted their trumpets and let forth a military fanfare. Then the sound of clinking spurs and heavy boots came from the courtyard's eastern gate. Presently a procession of knights emerged from the gate led by Colin, the Captain of the Royal Guard. The jugglers paused, the singers quieted, and the crowds hushed as the knights marched up to the shallow steps before the great northern gate, forming staggered ranks with military precision. Colin stood on the lowest step, his longsword resting on his shoulder, while four of the knights stood a step above him (with Afton on the end), and the remaining three took up positions on the third step. Every knight stood at attention, their white tunics splayed with red birds, rapiers under their chins, looking like statues of the valiant heroes of old.

Then the two soldiers on either side of the north gate took up trumpets and blew a regal fanfare. Moments later the huge wooden doors of the northern gate swung inward and another set of trumpets echoed from somewhere beyond. The crowds lifted up cheers and whoops as the procession emerged. The first soldier to come out from between the doors was the ensign, holding aloft the flag of the royal family; a white ground with the red owl emblazoned on it, the head replaced by three triangles. After him came a vanguard of six soldiers, the two in front blowing their trumpets while the rest marched in step carrying straight spears and tall rectangular shields. Then the crowds of townspeople cheered louder to see their king emerge from between the doors. Daphnes wore his red coat, white breeches and high golden crown. He laughed joyfully in answer to the cheers of his people, lagging behind the soldiers as they made their way out of the gate and around to the other side of the great fountain. Flanking the king on four sides were the Darknaughts, heavily armored and highly trained knights of Hyrule; bodyguards of the king outside the castle walls. In addition to his rapier and shield, each Darknaught bore a heavy weapon; one a single-bladed axe, one a mace, one a thick-bladed scimitar, and the last a wide, double-edged sword.

So impenetrable was the armour of the Darknaughts and so immovable their bulk that they were thought of as extensions of the castle walls themselves. Unless a Darknaught was given cause to move they remained motionless and so the people regarded them as little more than obstacles to be avoided. If any person gave a Darknaught cause to move, however, a Darknaught's wrath commanded instant dread and respect. The Darknaughts were so called for their reputation that any evil—any dark designs that threatened their king—would come to naught so long as one of them stood. They were willing to give all, even their lives, to protect their king. It was for this reason that the king never had aught to fear so long as his guard was nearby.

Once the Darknaughts had escorted Daphnes to a chair waiting for him on the top step, they took up positions before him on the steps of the north gate. Then the soldiers flanking the north gate blew a new, solemn fanfare. Immediately the call was answered by another pair of trumpeters preceding four more soldiers. Behind these came four lean but knot-muscled men bearing a litter on their shoulders. Each of them was wrapped in frayed white clothes and wore light gray, soft-leather boots and forearm-sleeves. The ears of each Sheik bore small golden hoops and their heads and faces were swathed in strips of white fabric. Each Sheik bore a tattered flap of cloth over his chest bearing a single red eye with a tear below it; the symbol of the Sheikah people.

The Sheiks were the most disciplined and skilled of the Sheikah, who had vowed since the days of the War of the Golden Land to protect the daughters of the Hylian Royal Family. They excelled at stealth, surprise and intrigue, and it was said that the red eyes of a Sheik glowed like embers. The people mostly regarded them with fear and unease, for it was said that a Sheik could look into your soul and force you to face your deepest truths. They protected the queen out of duty, and a Sheik was known to treat all with the honor they deserved. It was for this reason that they bore the queen's litter, which they presently set on the top step of the north gate opposite the king's throne. Two of the Sheiks tied back the curtains of the litter to reveal the queen, Zethra, kneeling on her seat. She was clothed in her purple vest, white gown and golden belt and circlet. From her belt hung the apron of her station, bearing the red owl of the Hylian Royal Family. On her lap lay a small blue ocarina. When all was arranged, the Sheiks sat before the litter on the steps—each with back erect, limbs deceptively relaxed, their red eyes scanning the crowd, daring any to meet their gaze.

The king stood, quieting the cheering crowds. “Welcome! I bid you welcome to this, the Tournament of Hyrule!” he called out. The people cheered again. A line of men to one side of the north gate raised wooden practice swords high in the air and shouted, throwing their arms and waving at others in the crowd. “These,” called the king, indicating the line of men, “are the valiant few who are best in Hyrule with the sword! Today we shall see if any of these may best our own Captain!” Many in the crowd hollered taunts; some of the men whipped their swords around in anticipation. The Captain remained stone-faced, relaxed and unmoving. The crowd started chanting, calling for the tournament to begin.

“Yes, yes, at length,” said the king, “but all in it’s proper time. First, to the ceremony!” As the people looked anxiously toward their king, he raised a hand to his chest. Grasping a stone amulet that hung there, the king bowed his head theatrically. After a moment he raised it again and called out “The Sages have been summoned! Let us welcome the Sages of Hyrule!” And as the people cheered again, colored lights began swirling around in the air among the wisps of the gray sky.

The first to descend was a streak of green, landing in the courtyard in a bubbling mass of olive light that materialized into Aako, leaping and laughing, spinning and skipping in the air. He wore little brown shoes that laced up his feet, a green tunic with a brown cloth belt with a red tassel, and a short apron. On his head was a cap that looked like a large curled leaf and in his hand was a viola which he played as he danced. The people clapped and laughed with him and the children in the crowd stomped their little feet and jumped to the song of the Koroki Sage.

The next to fall was a shot of blue, materializing into Lutai, dressed in a magnificent netted gown of lavender with a red apron over her chest, a circlet of fishbone gracing her finned brow. She played her small fishbone harp. The ladies in the crowd all chattered about her fashion and soon they were too occupied to notice the large blob of red that formed the bulky mass of Gor Darmon, swathed like a wrestler, red tribal markings tracing his huge arms. He stomped and beat on his chest and drums, causing the ground to vibrate. The people were delighted every time the ground shook and laughter broke out when Davis, the large man running the shooting gallery, promptly fell over, visibly rattled.

A yellow light came from the sky and for a moment it was as if the sun had emerged from behind the clouds and fallen to Castle Town’s courtyard. The truth was swiftly revealed, however, as Rauru emerged from the yellow light wearing a golden belt over a white robe embroidered with golden thread. The a double-reeded horn hooted between his whiskered lips, calling the raucousness of the crowds to a lull, finally hushing even the children as they heard his melancholy tune. The Captain stared at the ground, as stone-faced as ever. When Rauru finished, the entranced crowds clapped at the performance, the Sages bowing in response.

“Thank you for welcoming the esteemed Sages with such enthusiasm,” called Daphnes from the top of the stairs. The people were attentive. “We recognize the absence of our loved friend Mudora, Sage of Shadow and former representative of the Sheikah people, passed these many years ago, Nayru keep him. We respectfully acknowledge the Sheiks of Kakariko as ambassadors to Hyrule.” The four lean men surrounding the queen’s litter bowed in unison, each placing their palms together. The king continued. “We also recognize the absence of the Sage of Spirit, as there have been none to come forward from the Gerudo since the time that the Traitor was discovered. As such we recognize Zethra, the Queen of Hyrule as the Seventh Sage, filling this vacancy in council since those dark times. Thus constituted, we shall begin the opening of the tournament.” From a loop on his belt the king pulled a baton made of ivory, carved and traced with curling shapes. As he raised it in the air, the Sages lifted their instruments to the ready. The queen lifted the ocarina from her lap and pressed it to her lips…

But instead of a song, a distant boom was heard over the crowd. Low and resonant, some whispered that it was an attack; others said it was the canon of some distant ship. Then another boom came; unmistakably from the south, toward the fields of Hyrule. It sounded like a great fist knocking on the outer gates of the city. The Darknaughts brandished their heavy weapons, while the Sheiks peered through the crowds toward the southern gate. The soldiers shuffled their feet and looked around nervously; the ensign gripped his flagpole with unease. The crowds grew restless, shifting like cattle in a branding pen. In moments, the mood had gone from festive to fearful.

The captain looked up to the king, who nodded. Colin stepped out into the courtyard toward the eastern gate. “Horse!” he called, and in moments one of the pages had brought him his dappled gray. Then Colin mounted and was gone through the southern gate.

Time passed uneasily, feeling much longer than it was, but in minutes Colin had returned. He dismounted at the base of the steps and approached the king, unobstructed by the Darknaughts.

“There is a Gerudo at the southern gate, my Liege,” Colin said.

“A Gerudo?” the king replied with obvious surprise. “Has she come to…?”

“It isn't a she, my Liege,” said the captain quickly.

Daphnes’ face straightened, comprehending. “By the Goddesses…what does he want?”

“He says he wishes to enter the gates of Hyrule to swear fealty to her king.”

The king tucked the baton back into his belt and signaled to the Sages. Faster than they had come, they were gone, streaks of coloured light whipping back into the gray late-winter sky. Then Daphnes looked to his wife. Zethra raised her head and narrowed her eyes, considering. She met the gaze of one of her Sheiks, who stared, unblinking directly into her eyes. He seemed to be fed somehow by her looking at him; into him. Then the Sheik stood, took the Ocarina from her, and disappeared in a puff of smoke that caused the crowd to jump. Zethra nodded to her husband.

Satisfied, the king turned back to Colin. “Let him in,” he said.

* * *

“Impa will help you keep it safe, my love. And pay your dreams no mind. Goodnight,” said the king. “Sleep well.”

After her father closed the door—when the curtains of Zelda’s bed-chamber had been drawn and all but her nursemaid had left—the young princess of Hyrule turned the clay instrument over in her hands. This was the legendary ocarina that had sealed the Door of Time, she marveled. Tucking it under her pillow, she spoke to her nursemaid.

“Impa, what if I dream about the clouds again?”

A tall, youthful woman with white hair stepped from the shadows. From her neck hung the symbol of an eye with a single tear. “Do not worry, young one. Your father will come to trust your premonitions.” Impa sat on the edge of the princess’ bed. “Come; let me sing you a lullaby.”