Zelink Short Stories

Sneak Peek

His round face turned red at the effort it took to pull the sword from the rack. It was heavier than he guessed and he nearly tipped over before he found his balance. The taunting didn't matter anymore as he took in the sight of the gleaming blade in his hands. This was what he was going to do. And one day when he became a knight, he'd have a specially made sword to wield with a skill that bested his father's. A small smile found its way through the quiet determination of the boy as his dream came just a bit closer.

One of the boys stepped forward and knocked the tip of his broadsword against the measly blade in his hands and sent him off balance once more. Grinning, he said, "Too heavy for you?"

He didn't reply. He planted his feet and held his sword steady, picturing himself as a son the general would be proud of. Sure his father loved him and would if he became a knight or not but he wanted to carry on their name that meant courage and being a farm boy in Hateno wasn't enough.

"We could spar if you'd like," the older boy said. His tone was edged with mockery, as was his offer. He was thirteen compared to Link's seven and teased him more than any of the others. Even with the obvious disadvantages in front of him, backing down seemed a more cowardly option.

He nodded and adjusted his grip on the sword while the group of boys watching protested. He was surprised by it. All this teasing and mocking but when given the opportunity to push him down in a new way, they backed away in fear of what his father would do if he got hurt.

He didn't tell them getting hurt wasn't something he was afraid of. Pain isn't always bad, his father had explained when he worried why his mother was crying out while they waited downstairs for the baby he hoped was a little brother. Pain can bring life and protect it. Don't be afraid of what makes you stronger. He knew what that meant when he got to go upstairs and see his sister. His parents trusted him to hold the little girl and he promised he wouldn't be afraid to get hurt for her as he stroked the soft hair on her head.

He reminded himself of that as he readied the heavy sword clutched in his hands. Failure was scarier than any scrape he could get from a sparring match.

The boy in front of him grinned as he twirled his sword around his wrist. He only needed to use one hand while Link needed two to grip the handle. "Why don't you take the first swing," he offered. "Show us all the skills you've inherited from your father."

Another taunt he was too familiar with. The offer was a trick, he knew, but this was the first chance he'd ever had to do more than play pretend with a wooden sword.

He swung.

All it took was a backwards hop to dodge the attempt. Link furrowed his brows at the snicker he'd heard too many times and swung again. Miss. Over and over he swung and missed, growing angrier at the ease of his opponent's dodges. If he could just swing faster. If he could swing harder. If he was just a little taller, a little stronger.

Tears pricked at his eyes. Swing and fail. One after the other. He knew how sloppy he looked, chasing the boy around in a circle with swings that left him stumbling. He knew this sloppiness was what his father winced at when he trained new soldiers.

His thin arms already aching under the weight of his sword, he urged one more swing from them fueled by the frustration of the tears threatening to drip down his cheeks. Knights don't cry, he scolded himself, his chest heaving.

It was more powerful than the others and to everyone's surprise including his own, he forced his opponent to block. Their blades met with the satisfying clang of metal and a small sliver of pride nestled its way between him and the fear of failing.

The boy's lip curled in a sneer and he shoved his weapon forward. Link felt the coolness of it bite into his cheek just before he fell onto the hard ground, losing the sword he thought would make him the knight he wanted to be.

He smeared the blood away with the back of his hand and went to reach for the sword once more when the boy in front of him paled and Link was blocked by a tall shadow. "You think it's funny to ridicule those less skilled than you?" his father asked with a lethal calm Link was glad had never been directed at him. But he hated it all the same. He didn't want to watch his father use that tone to protect him. He'd wanted to protect himself, prove that he could do it.

"No sir," the boy said with a shaky voice. "I was trying to help him."

"Were you?" He nodded hastily. "Then show me what right you think you have to help with humiliation rather than guidance." His father unsheathed the decorated sword at his hip. The blade was freshly polished and reflected more sunlight than the tarnished broadsword held by the boy cowering in front of it.

"Wha—what do you mean?"

"I'm giving you the chance to prove yourself since you believe standing on those under you is glory." He tapped his sword against the boy's blade in the same taunting manner he had done to Link before challenging him. "Lift your sword, boy."

"I can't—"

"You won't," his father corrected, "because you know you'll be begging to go home to your mother in a matter of seconds if you went up against me." He resheathed his sword in a fluid movement he'd done thousands of times. "Get out of my sight, boy. You'll be cleaning horse shit off boots until you realize that the bottom of my shoe has earned more respect than you ever will if you don't learn what being a soldier means."

His father turned heel and spared a quick glance down at the small Hylian boy who held all his pride. Link didn't miss the hint of a smile hiding beneath his groomed beard before he strode away, leaving his son to pick himself off the ground and dust the dirt from his trousers. He wiped more blood from his face and picked up the sword he'd outgrow sooner than he imagined, and walked past the boys who were too stunned by the courage he carried to say anything.

Next time he sparred, he wouldn't need his father to save him. He'd be the challenge.