"There it is," Elwin said, his voice a mixture of relief and reverence. "The Great Bridge of Hylia."
They stood on a hill, looking down at the massive structure that spanned the wide, churning waters of the Hylia River. It was an astonishing feat of engineering, a graceful arc of white stone and proud banners bearing the Royal Crest that connected the central plains to the eastern lands of Lanayru. To Elwin, it was a symbol of the kingdom's strength and unity. To Link, it was the jaws of a trap.
He had tried to warn Elwin, but the task was impossible. How could he explain a magical vision from a haunted mask? He had tried gesturing, pointing to the south, suggesting they find another crossing. But Elwin, a man of logic and law, had been adamant. "No, Link. The southern fords are treacherous, and this is the only guarded crossing. It's the safest way. We'll be under the protection of the King's men."
Link knew better. As they began their descent toward the bridge, the Sheikah token in his pouch began to hum, a low, ominous vibration that grew stronger with every step.
A fortified checkpoint stood at the entrance to the bridge, a small stone barracks flying the Hyrulean flag. Several guards in gleaming steel armor stood watch, their halberds glinting in the afternoon sun. As Link and Elwin approached, one of the guards held up a hand, blocking their path. And from the barracks stepped the captain. It was the same man from Link's vision, his cruel, sallow face unmistakable.
"Halt," the captain commanded, his eyes immediately locking onto Link. "State your names and your business."
Elwin leaned on his crutch and offered a weary but friendly smile. "Elwin, Royal Postman, on official business for the Crown. And this is my nephew, Link. We're headed east to Lanayru."
The captain's eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition in their depths. "A postman? Your uniform is in tatters, and you have no mailbag. And your 'nephew' is armed for war." He pointed a gauntleted finger at Link. "There have been reports of spies and insurrectionists in this region, disguised as simple travelers. For the safety of the kingdom, we are required to search all suspicious persons. You will both come with me."
The pretense was paper-thin. This was not a routine search. This was an arrest.
"Captain, surely there's a misunderstanding," Elwin protested, his friendly demeanor becoming strained. "I am a loyal servant of the King. This boy is no spy!"
"That will be for the magistrate to decide," the captain said with a dismissive wave. "Seize them."
Two guards moved forward. Elwin, his face hardening, gripped his sturdy oak crutch like a weapon. He would not go down without a fight.
And Link exploded into motion.
He did not wait for the guards to reach them. He drew his sword, the blade singing in the clear air, and shoved Elwin behind him. He would not let them take his friend again.
The guards, expecting a frightened boy and a crippled man, were caught off guard by the sudden, fierce display. For a moment, they hesitated.
"Incompetents!" the captain roared. "Take them!"
The battle was joined. Link met the first guard's spear thrust not with his sword, but with his enchanted shield. The impact of steel on magic-infused wood created a flash of brilliant light, and the guard cried out, stumbling back. Link didn't press the attack. He spun, his sword a blur, and parried the strike of the second guard, the clang of steel on steel echoing across the bridge.
This was different from fighting monsters. The guards were trained. They moved with discipline, their attacks coordinated. But Link had been trained by a master of practicality, and he moved with the unpredictable grace of a wild thing. He was smaller, faster, his movements economical and precise.
Elwin, seeing that diplomacy had failed, joined the fray. He swung his heavy crutch in a wide arc, smashing it into the knee of a guard who was trying to flank Link, sending the man to the ground with a cry of pain. Though injured, the postman was a large, powerful man, and his desperate swings created a vital opening.
The captain watched from the side, his face a mask of cold fury, making no move to join the fight himself. "Subdue the boy! I want him alive!"
Link ducked under a wild swing, his slingshot already in his other hand. He fired a stone that struck a guard's helmet with a sharp crack, disorienting him. Link then flowed forward, not with a killing blow, but with the flat of his sword, slamming it against the man's wrist and forcing him to drop his weapon.
He was a whirlwind of defensive action, a ghost in green. His shield flashed, his sword parried, his feet never stopping. He was fighting other Hylians, men wearing the uniform he had been taught to respect. The thought was a sickening one, but the memory of the abandoned farmhouse, of Elwin's broken body, burned hotter than his confusion. These men were part of the shadow, no matter what crest they wore.
He and Elwin fought back-to-back, a desperate, unlikely pair. They were being pushed back, step by step, onto the bridge itself. There were too many.
Then, the captain, seeing his men failing, drew his own sword—a fine, officer's blade—and advanced on Link. "I've had enough of you, little rat," he snarled.
Link met his attack. The captain was skilled, his strikes fast and precise. But there was no heart in his fighting. Link, on the other hand, was fighting for his friend, for his mission, for the very idea of home. His defense was perfect.
Seeing his opening, Link dropped low, sweeping the captain's legs out from under him. The corrupt officer fell hard onto the stone bridge. Before he could recover, Link had the tip of his sword at the man's throat.
The other guards froze. The fight was over.
Link stood there, his chest heaving, his small body trembling with the aftershock of battle. He looked down at the terrified, hate-filled face of the captain. He could end it. He could deliver justice for the Abernathys, for Elwin, for all the other travelers these men had preyed upon.
But he didn't. He was a protector, not an executioner. He pulled his sword back.
"Now, Elwin!" he seemed to shout with his eyes.
Elwin nodded. He grabbed a lit lantern from the guard post and hurled it into a nearby supply wagon filled with oil and hay. The wagon erupted in a column of fire and thick, black smoke.
"For the King!" Elwin roared, a final, defiant act of loyalty.
Under the cover of the smoke and confusion, Link grabbed Elwin's arm. They ran. They limped and stumbled their way across the Great Bridge of Hylia, leaving behind a scene of chaos, a defeated patrol, and the burning evidence of their rebellion. They had won their freedom. But they were now fugitives, outlaws in their own kingdom.