Aryll expediently removed everything from the top of the table that rested in the center of the cottage to make room for the burned Riku. Impa and Magnus carefully handled the body, lowering it onto the surface as Aryll put down a clean blanket. The one blue eye was closed now, perhaps in pain; but there was still feeble, jagged breathing, the only definite sign of life. "The burn covers nearly all of her body," Impa said dryly, "and the majority of fluids are gone. She should be dead." She cupped her hands, focusing intensely onto a little ball of light that accumulated there as Magnus watched in awe. "Here," Impa said, handing the ball to Magnus. "Put this down her throat. It should help with her breathing, and with her fluids."
She turned away and went to fetch medicines from the cabinets, but Magnus was rigid, confused as to why he should put something that felt semi-solid in his hands down his wife's throat. It was a rather uncomfortable order. He turned helplessly to Impa. "I'll do it," she said calmly. She took the orb from his hands and gently pushed it, with one finger, down into Riku's windpipe.
"I don't hear her breathing," Magnus said, concerned.
"Of course you don't. It's steadier now, aided by the oxygen filter. Don't be worried." She snatched a bottle of alcohol and soft, sterile gloves from the medicine cabinet. "Here, Aryll," she started. "Apply this everywhere you can. She's had a lot of contact with unclean things and will have rampant infections if not treated immediately." Aryll stared at the bottle, then at Riku. She wasn't looking forward to dealing out such pain, even if it was necessary. "You think all her writhing and yelling was due to pain?" Impa inquired, accurately reading the expression on Aryll's face. She nodded. "Of course not," Impa countered, nearly laughing. "All her nerve endings are gone. She won't feel a thing. Everything you see is a product of panic."
Aryll was even more disturbed by this prospect. A creature with no sense of touch. Perhaps no senses were intact. She was tempted to pull back the lid on that single, bloodshot blue eye to see if it could really still perceive anything. She resisted the urge and rubbed the alcohol everywhere she could, not able to push the idea out of her mind that the creature before her was in morbid pain.
Meanwhile, Impa fetched a roll of cloth from the cabinet and handed Magnus a pair of gloves as well. "Lift her leg," she ordered. Magnus did so, and Impa began to wrap it in cloth, and with the help of her two assistants, Riku was soon a mummified corpse, inactive but preserved, and still bearing a soul. Great relief showed on Magnus's face, but so did great concern.
"Will she ever be the same?"
"Sadly, no," Impa said. "She can barely hear and see, and cannot taste, smell, or feel. Also, the shock will stay with her for the rest of her life, and she will not be able to walk or speak again. As much as I would like to tell you otherwise, this is the way it is. Nonetheless, I suggest you care for her, as I imagine, given your disposition to care for her in the face of near hopelessness, you'd rather have her in this sorry state than you would give her up."
"This is true," Magnus said. "But there must be a way to at least communicate with her."
"I could link your psyches. You could communicate telepathically.
Magnus's eyes went wide. The thought excited him. "Oh, yes. Yes, please do that."
"Then it is done." The man twitched, his face contorting as he felt his wife's thoughts mingle with his own. "It takes some getting used to," Impa assured him. "Eventually, you'll be able to share your thoughts in a controlled manner. I've had such a link before, so I can teach you, though slowly, how to regulate which thoughts come through." Magnus was listening. "Imagine a line, a string, connecting you and Riku. Now imagine two separate brains within your head, one connected to the line, and one detached. Center your thoughts that you want to share in the brain with the line, and the ones that you do not in the one detached."
"Does Riku need to know this, too?"
"It's likely she already does. In your uncontrolled state of connection, everything I said and was processed by your mind was passed to hers, too. Everything you perceive is hers to perceive. If you try carefully, you can see the world as she does, in its hazy, numb, barely present state." Magnus closed his eyes, trying to absorb himself in his wife's thoughts. He could soon feel nothing, just a vague throbbing where he expected to feel the sensations of her limbs. A misty red glow came in through one eye, and through the other, nothing. Sound was but a muffled hum. "Disturbing, is it not?" Magnus nodded. "What is she thinking?"
"She is strangely . . ." He could barely get the words out. "She's strangely contented, I think, and thankful. Gods, she thinks she's going to die. And she's grateful for the relief and for the care . . . the care we've given her in her last moments. It's horrid. Oh, god, I don't want to hear any more of this."
"You don't have to," Impa said. "Just focus on the detached brain, your private mind."
He struggled to do so as Aryll retreated from the situation to, as she often did, bury herself in books. Now that Riku was in stable condition, she was exhausted, and she felt unhelpful as Magnus tried to grasp his new power. Once again, she opened Gravity and its Theory. The struggling husband disappeared and the amiable Goron appeared.
The Gorons' magic is generated by two primary uses of the magma below our cities: both involve turbines, in one case turned by steam from large vats of water that the magma slowly causes to evaporate, and in the other turned by the magma directly. Neither is the creation of energy, as is used in the magic of the goddesses, nor is it the collection and redispersion of the residual byproduct of conscious thought, as is used in Hylian magic. Rather, we use what is known as the "potential energy" stored within this universe. One way to build up potential energy is to resist gravity; this is put into practical use as we capture the energy of the downhill flow of magma.
Aryll found the differentiation between the various types of magic interesting. It was only now that she was learning that the Gorons' magic was not passed through any sort of consciousness at all. But how was that possible? What sort of magic could be generated by one inanimate object acting unknowingly on another? She knew, of course, that there were all sorts of subtle magic passed among natural forces, but she never knew that they could be directly, physically captured by sentient beings without the use of the mind. The accumulation of this magical power seemed to happen within the turbines, triggered by their turning.
"Impa?" she asked.
"Yes?"
"How do the Goron turbines work? How is their magic generated?"
Impa turned around, surprised. "You've never been one to take an interest in the fundamental workings of magic. But I'm pleased that you're becoming more intrigued by your studies. Is this something from that book of yours?"
"Yes. Malgorg was explaining how the Gorons extract the natural magic of the motion of matter to fuel their machines. Apparently, the turning of the turbines is what generates the power, but what causes it to be so? Are they . . . are the turbines . . . conscious?"
Impa laughed. "Of course not. The turbines have magically charged rods that turn, and with each revolution, attract and repel alternately the particles in a nearby wire. This back-and-forth motion of the particles generates what the Gorons call an electric current. At the time your book was written, this was well-known among the Gorons, while all that needed explaining is the theoretical motion of energy, the transfer of potential energy to kinetic energy and back to potential. That's Malgorg's book on gravity, is it not?" Aryll nodded. "That's an excellent read; essential, even, for a wielder of magic such as yourself. I really should have schooled you better in magical theory."
Aryll felt a strange pang of guilt at this, then an opposing pang of resentment as she realized that her lack of knowledge in this area was Impa's fault alone, and that it was, by her own-if unintentional-choice that she was now exploring magical theory to supplement her practice. She picked the book up again and hid herself from Impa's view.
"You're pretty competent with magic, then?" Magnus asked Impa innocently.
"Yes, you could say that," Impa replied, almost haughtily.
"Surely you're not . . ." he trailed off.
She grinned. "What would it matter if I were? It's nothing wrong to exploit the patronage of Ahriman." Aryll was torn out of the book at the name of the wicked goddess that seduced her brother and fed off his compassion, deterring him from his mission and taking him under her wing, a divine tool for a divine hand. "If I kill beasts of the wild purely for the power, and put it to good use, I am no worse morally than he who kills an animal for the taste of its flesh. All that Ahriman gets in return is the pleasure of seeing destruction by her invented-and, as I understand it, widely spread-method."
"You didn't answer my question, though," he said. "Are you a necromancer or are you not?"
"I'm not," she assured him. "I'm a tutor. I teach magic, and Aryll is a student of mine." It was not untrue, thought Aryll. But Impa was so much more than that. She was a sage, one of the seven mortals that the goddesses granted immortality that they might watch over and bring peace to Hyrule. It was under their gazes that a hundred Links had killed a hundred Ganondorfs in the constant effort to prevent the spread of Demise's influence. The demon god's remaining consciousness had taken on the mortal form of Ganondorf hundreds of years after the initial Link had killed Demise. The hero was designed at birth by the goddesses for this explicit purpose, and had established a pattern of reincarnation as had Ganondorf while the war between the two raged over the years. Aryll always felt a little nauseated to think that her brother was the hero of old in a different body, and that he had failed and passed his task to her.
Why her specifically? She was only his sister, after all, and there were plenty of people more qualified. Impa had said it herself many times, much to Aryll's dismay. The only reason, Impa had explained once, was the slim chance that, being conceived alongside Link, she had gained a small fragment of the Triforce of Courage, which was the source of Link's power. The Triforce was the creation of the Golden Goddesses, that whomever possessed all three pieces would have the ultimate power of the goddesses. It had originally been stored away for the most dire of circumstances, so that a mortal could assist the goddesses in completing the tasks that they could not, such as, as it so happened, the annihilation of another deity. The necessity of Demise's destruction presented ample grounds, in the goddesses' opinion, to create a being worthy of wielding the Triforce, namely Link. But, despite the immortality of Link's soul, his body was still mortal, as was necessary if he was to take down Demise. Therefore, he died, and the Triforce was stored away until the next incarnation, and so it continued.
The birth of Ganondorf had taken the goddesses much by surprise. They had known that Demise would attempt to preserve his soul in mortal form, just as the goddesses had sent Hylia to Earth in the form of Zelda to assist Link. However, they never could have guessed how overflowing, absolutely brimming with magic the Gerudo king would be. His presence made the sages a necessity, as they could more directly assist in matters concerning Ganondorf than the goddesses could, as though they could have easily smitten any other mortal, Demise's creation had quickly and craftily armored himself and made himself into a magical superweapon. One of the critical components necessary to Ganondorf's destruction was the Master Sword, the blade of pure light that the original Link had forged to take down Demise, and none of the sages were pure of foul intentions, of Demise's influence, so they could not wield it. However, more often than Link had managed to kill Ganondorf, they had contained and disabled him.
But on the occasion that Link did kill Ganondorf, the sages and the goddesses had noticed that the marauder had returned more quickly every time, and more unstable in his magic. Eventually, they noted, his mortal form would burst as the spirit the original Link shattered would become whole again. All it took was a swipe of king Semak's knife to Ganondorf's throat and, all the sages knew, the god-incubator Ganondorf was gone for good, Demise ready to emerge again. "Everyone of any significance," Impa had told Aryll after a few years of living with her, "will feel his return. Until then, we must prepare for the worst, for the evil deities, Demise and Ahriman, have no qualms about direct interaction with the mortals of this world-or their destruction. We will be at their whim, and only the combination of Triforce and Master Sword will be enough to bring him down."
"Master Sword?" Aryll had wondered. "But one has to be morally perfect in the eyes of the goddesses to wield it, am I right? Cleansed of all dark thought and action."
"You will not wield the sword yourself. I am hoping Zelda will, as she is an incarnation of the goddess Hylia, and thus her soul must be pure."
"But that would entail her not being able to do any wrong," Aryll protested.
"Exactly."
"How is that possible? What of the political mistakes she's made as a princess, in the days before her mission? And you told me she had gone, on Saria's order, in search of the Master Sword, and found it, but as soon as she found it, all connection between you and her was lost, and she hasn't been seen since. It sounds an awful lot like-"
"No," Impa quickly interrupted. "Zelda's soul is pure. It was Link's soul that was corrupted over the course of several incarnations. And when the goddesses realized this, they noticed that, since he held the Master Sword, the sword must have tolerated corruption and thus been impure itself. They purified it in heavenly fires and set it in a more . . . defended place that even Zelda found it difficult to penetrate. But there is no chance her heavenly soul might have been ruined. She is a goddess. She is Hylia."
"Then what other explanation do you have to offer for Zelda's sudden disappearance?"
"It must have been a fault within myself," Impa said wistfully. "It must have been the impurity of my soul that severed our connection. Eventually, we will see her again. As you bear the remaining piece of the Triforce of Courage, and Zelda bears the Triforce of Wisdom and the Master Sword, it is necessary that you find her if you are to destroy Demise."
Aryll's eyes widened. "But even if she is still alive, she could be anywhere in Hyrule. My journey would be a blind one."
"So was Link's. He was blind to the threat of Ahriman, who had before been content to stand aside and revel in the power she already had. Would you like to know what triggered her change of heart? Be warned; it might disturb you." Aryll nodded tentatively. "Very well. Your brother, you see, is only half-human. At conception, it was necessary, given his original, flawed mortal state, that he be spiritually removed from all his darkness. This caused a divide, and twins were born instead of a single child. Link's caretakers were assigned the task of determining which was the pure Link and which was the corrupt one. It was an easy task. The pure infant was silent, still, and cooperative as ever, while the corrupt infant was just the opposite; he was killed immediately." Aryll's face blanched. "Don't look so disgusted. You know I'm opposed to any sort of euphemism. It's true. They disposed of the inconvenient child in the most efficient way possible. But just as Link had to reincarnate, so did his darker version. From what dark pit he came, nobody knows, but with every instance of Link, there was a darker one lurking in the shadows. He was always there, unseen, and known by nobody but the sages and goddesses.
"When Ahriman discovered the current incarnation of what we call Dark Link, for lack of a better name, she lusted after him; here was a marginalized creature of pure darkness like herself, that she could at once empathize with and prey upon. But as Link grew increasingly corrupt over the generations, Dark Link became less so, and strayed away from Ahriman and towards Link, his brother."
"But, Impa," Aryll interjected, "if Ahriman was capable of loving Dark Link, and empathizing with him, was that entirely unhealthy for anyone?"
"No, that the relationship was detrimental is not what I'm implying at all," Impa said, annoyed at Aryll's hasty interpretation of her perceived bias. "It was better that they remain in such a state, for if they had, Ahriman would never have committed the crimes of which I am about to tell you. See, after Dark Link joined Link, he turned the hero's mind to dark thoughts, to a better understanding of anger, and hatred, and corruption, and therefore, sadly, more tolerance towards it. He became more vulnerable to it. Ahriman, enraged at the loss of her prized mortal possession, began committing direct mass slaughter for no other purpose than to fulfill her rage. And, when she regained Dark Link's favor, the poor, manipulated soul attacked Link on her command. But Link overpowered him and killed him. Then, desperate, she went to Link to try to turn him into the being of darkness that she knew. And succeeded. Link now follows her like a trained dog, the instrument of her desires. The only reason we don't see Ahriman's destructive influence in such immediacy today is the retreat she made with Link into the Twilight Realm, the space between life and death, through which she seeks to observe, and perhaps retrieve, Dark Link, with whom she was initially so enamored."
Aryll waited for Impa to continue, but she didn't. Sitting on a carpet on the floor of Impa's cottage, the fireplace setting a red glow sprawling across the room, the story had become vivid, as stories tend to do in the serene late nights, and Aryll found herself, despite the minimal knowledge Impa had given her, invested in and highly empathetic towards these characters of her past-and her future. Despite the wrongs Ahriman had committed against Link, Aryll found herself sympathetic to her sorry condition. Impa had called her "marginalized" as a simple truth, a fact of nature, without intending to imply any weakness of deservance of mercy. But to Aryll, that word was all, the very cause of Ahriman's drive to destruction. And Aryll believed that, if she could somehow reverse it, Ahriman could be saved.
"I can hear you thinking, child. Your mouth may be closed, but you are anything but silent. And I know what you must feel toward Ahriman, after what I told you. But it is not true. Ahriman is a force of pure evil, the very essence of the visceral desires that drive us ever closer to death. She is an outright, perverse manipulator, and if you let yourself foster the thoughts you do, she will see them, and she will take advantage of them. This is just what happened with Link." She said this last part with harsh emphasis, and Aryll hung her head, ashamed. "Don't do that, now," Impa continued, more softly. "It's not your fault that you feel such things. It is something you learn to overcome, over time."
Aryll did not want to overcome it. Her feelings, her curiosity about life of all sorts and of sentience, was what drove her to learn, to explore, to investigate. From this pure desire to know and serve stemmed her ardent political fascination, not necessarily from her feelings of being trapped within Hyrule's political turmoil and being powerless against it, as Impa assumed, although the hardened mentor wasn't entirely wrong about these thoughts tugging at her consciousness from time to time. But her every move, really-or so she perceived herself-was an unfailing curiosity and compassion. It was what drove her to return to those city streets that were such a danger to her body and mind, what compelled her to rescue a woman from a burning house, what encouraged her to not settle for a rescue only, but to bring the burned woman and her distraught husband into her home.
She felt resentment for Impa's total disregard of her true nature boil up within her as she observed this couple, Magnus bent over Riku and the tears welling in his eyes as they exchanged silent thoughts. He slowly nuzzled his face into the mass of bandages, unaware of other eyes upon him. Aryll, embarrassed and not wishing to violate his private moments, turned away, blushing. She opened her book again, closed it, and went into the kitchen looking for something to eat; not out of hunger, but out of a need for movement.
Meanwhile, Impa heard another knock at the door. She peered out the window and spied a young, but tanned and scarred, face; a gleaming silver helmet and matching armor; long, wavy hair, starting to gray already despite the subject's youthful age. "No, not now," Impa said under her breath. "You always have to come at the most inconvenient times." Nevertheless, she opened the door, the figure quite upright and serious before her. "I assume you have news on the movement of Semak and Nabooru."
"Nabooru would like to see you," Aola confirmed, her right hand on her sword, her buckler strapped to her left arm and crossed over the right, in front of her belt, in the traditional fashion of Hyrulean officers. "As of yet, you've done nothing to contribute to the sages' efforts toward the war in the east, and you could play a vital role."
"Listen, Aola," Impa said sternly. She had known this girl since she was Aryll's age. And while she offered her the kindness and hospitality she deserved, she treated her as she would treat any military officer when she was tending to her duties: matter-of-fact, and unwilling to compromise. "The war is only a hopeless continuation of the Lizalfos war that ended years ago, and therefore, I refuse to assist. The Gerudo rebels could revive their god at any time, and the only reason they have not done so yet is their advantage over us in warfare. Because we take such an offensive stance and do so little damage to their ranks, they know that they can keep us in a constant state of urgency because of their ability to produce a superweapon. The only chance of victory for us is the capture of Ganondorf's old fortress, where they reside, with the defensive high-ground. While we continue to attack them there, they eat at our forces, slowly destroying us. Why can't Nabooru see this? Why does she keep demanding assistance from me?"
"Then answer her summons. Discuss this with her personally."
"I have, but she wouldn't listen. Eventually, I cut off communications with her because she wouldn't let the issue go. Now, if you'll excuse me, I desire privacy. I'm trying to help someone who was injured in the riot today, so unless you can offer anything to us, I suggest you go." She prepared to shut the door, but Aola took off her helmet and looked pleadingly at Impa. "What is this, now?"
Aola looked at her feet. "If you could allow me to become human, ever briefly, and grant me solace in your household . . ." She was referring to Impa's initial discouragement when Aola had first expressed a desire to join king Semak's, her father's, army. Impa had told her that to ascend past base human desires is to shed the cocoon of humanity and live among the goddesses, but to serve and obey greater human forces, such as that of a king, was to shed one's humanity prematurely, and to become an instrument, a machine, given into the power of others while maintaining one's belief in one's own power. Despite this, Aola decided to join the Hylian army. She had said, "It's the only connection I have to my father, now a solemn and unfeeling king. I respect him and want to follow in his footsteps. I know you scorn all forms of tradition, but the notion that I could contribute to the salvation of Hyrule, if only by a marginal amount, is a comfort for me, as well as the only way I know how to serve Hyrule and gain my father's respect."
As Impa understood Aola's implied message, the girl standing on the doorstep, her war-weary face downturned and her helmet at her side, she wondered if perhaps Aola ever thought about Link, and what her perspective was on the . . . traitor? Victim? What to call an ally turned adversary due to forces far beyond his control?