Reval Keshan

by Fizzy Walrus

21 year old Link has just returned from Termina, only to find his world slowly being consumed by a malevolent deity opposing the Goddesses. Can he and other survivors defend against a deity who defies the Goddesses, who destroys entire worlds?

6. VI: The Battle of Kakariko

Here she goes . . .

--

Reval Keshan

Chapter 6

"This's gonna be a long, long night . . ."

The Battle of Kakariko

--

"Urgh, do we have to leave again? I don't wanna be stuck staring at your ass for another day."

Ignoring the Goron's confused faces, Link replied, "You know why, and we're going underground--you're fine 'til we get outside, and it'll probably be dark by then, anyway."

"It's still boring as fuck, though."

"Then entertain yourself instead of pissing everyone else off."

"Those are mutually exclusive goals, there, Linky-poo."

He rolled his eyes and did not bother responding; apparently sometimes there was just no way to win with his shadow.

Again they approached the stone door through which they had entered, though they were now escorted by twenty massive Gorons armed with battle axes and greatswords. "I thought we were using some sort of special route . . . ?"

"We are," the lead Goron, Maru, replied. "You will see."

Link blinked, confused, as he pulled on the switch that opened the door to the tunnel. Whatever.

Dude, do you see the size of that friggin' sword? I'll betcha he's makin' up for something, ha!

Get out of my head and don't call me "dude."

No such luck . . . You're fun to piss off.

Oh, dear Goddesses . . .

Ha, ha, see--blasphemy like that gets you stuck with me.

"Stop," Maru commanded once they had passed through the doorway. "Goros--find the corners."

"Goros?" Ren muttered to Link. "I thought they were--"

"It's slang," he replied. "Like calling someone 'dude,' or 'guy,' or whatever."

"Ah."

Ten Gorons walked twenty yards ahead of them, evidently searching for some sort of device hidden in the floor. Eventually one called out, "I've got it."

"Open it up," Maru commanded.

Setting aside his weapon, the Goron who had spoken out squared his feet and breathed deeply, raising his titanic fists above his head. With a grunt he smashed his intertwined hands into the ground, managing to shake the stone beneath their feet. The Hylians gasped as a square plate of stone previously indistinguishable from its surroundings sank into the floor with a deep, rocky clack. The grating of stone on stone filled the tunnel as the floor began to rumble beneath their feet.

Astonished, Link stared as a large slab of the floor dipped, then tilted downward, becoming a steep slope that descended into darkness. Maru pointed and explained, "This is the passage that lets us go down mountain so fast. We can roll very fast . . . you will slide. You will take longer, but not much--is very polished, slick. Watch elbows." With a grunt he ran forward and curled himself into a compact, armored ball, holding his sword in one hand to the side, and rolled into the abyss with a jubilant cry.

As the others followed Malon walked over to the pit and looked down, then slowly muttered, "You have got to be joking . . . a slide? Pitch black? I don't--"

Dark Link shoved her gently. She teetered on the edge, arms flailing, until she slowly tipped backward and fell, sliding with a brief shriek of surprise headfirst on her back. He distinctly heard the shock in her voice change to rage; words echoed up from the blackness--"You motherfucker!"

The shadow doubled over, laughing maniacally, then cried, "Screw you guys, this looks like fun!" and flipped into the blackness, landing on his back and yelling his exhileration as he plummeted out of sight.

"Go," Darunia rumbled from behind them. "It is safe, and quite fun, to be honest. I'll shut it behind you."

"You up for it?" Ren asked Alva.

"Let's do it." Hands clasped, as ever, they slid into the blackness, echoing laughter.

Impa and Kain followed, with Alexis returning to her crystal. Karsof went after some debate with his men, bellowing defiance to the cold stone; his Knights followed, leaving Link and Zelda.

He walked up to the edge and looked down at the steep, polished stone slope he could see, and blinked. "Doesn't look too bad," he commented, then turned to Zelda and waved to the blackness. "Ladies first."

Her eyes gleamed with an all-too-familiar defiant glee. He had time to say, "Oh, shit," before she lunged forward and tackled him, sending both plummeting into darkness.

Immediately he lost all sense of vision; all he could feel was the cold, damp air rushing past his face, ruffling his hair, and Zelda lying on top of him, roughly holding on to his tunic. His pack had softened his fall, thankfully; it raised him off of the polished stone, removing any discomfort he may have felt from its hard surface. She laughed atop him, enjoying herself; he joined her, whooping in excitement. His stomach dropped into his boots, leaving him with an amazingly pleasing empty tension in his abdomen, though whether it was from having a beautiful woman lying on top of him or sliding headfirst into nothingness he was not sure.

He felt his center of gravity shift--they were turning. Dimly Link realized that they had entered a steep spiral--he was nearly pasted to the wall through their momentum. He felt one hand disappear from his tunic, only to reappear moments later at his shoulder. All he could see was her flashing white teeth and nearly glowing blue eyes; she had forgotten to fully recreate her disguise in their hurry to return to the dubious safety of Kakariko.

This is going to be interesting . . .

--

Spill! Did she or did she not?

She didn't do anything--

Why are you snickering?

What?Link approached the gate he had passed through less than two days prior, waving to a surprised guard on Kakariko's town wall. I'm not--

Oh-ho-ho, buddyboy, I'm not that stupid. You're hiding something from me . . . What, did she jerk you off on the--

Shut the hell up about her! She's not some "broad," and you'd do well to remember as such. Nothing--

Don't feed me that line of bullshit. Something happened that you're not letting me see--

--And I'm enjoying every moment of it--

--And the only thing a pretty boy like you would really want to hide would be you getting busy with a certain blonde!

The gates ratcheted upward; Link, Zelda, and the rest walked forward, seeking the tavern, as Karsof dismissed the Knights and their Goron counterparts. Link's elongated shadow roiled with his agitated shadow's presence; it was nearly sundown. Or maybe I'm just doing this to screw with you.

Or maybe the head honcho wants to screw you!

Link grinned. This almost makes up for you being such an asshole.

"Link?" Ren queried, raising an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

"This little prick won't spill the beans!" his shadow viciously spat.

The Hylian laughed, "Don't ask."

Come on! I'm just curious!

So?

So tell me!

Nope.

Groah, pretty boy, I'm gonna rip you a new one if you don't--

If you rip me a new one I'll never tell, and you know it.

Dark Link's frustration echoed through his lighter counterpart's mind. Fuck!

Link accosted a patrolling Knight. "Where's Roscin?"

"The wall, sir, overseeing the fortifications."

"Okay. Um, carry on."

"Yes, sir."

Alva asked, "Is it just me or is there more Knights and, uh, recruits here?"

"It's probably not you," Karsof replied, expression grim but voice satisfied. "I've been waiting for my patrols to come back with what they could find."

"Cool. The more the merrier, I guess."

"So we hope."

The group passed with some surprise through the town square where they had spoken to the frightened guards not long ago; the platform had been torn down for supplies, and groups of Knights and men-at-arms sparred in large grids, apparently going through a regimented training plan. Every so often a small group would rotate from instructor to instructor, going over the various skills they would need in the coming war. It's really going to happen, Link realized with some surprise. We're gonna go head to head with this thing, and it isn't gonna be pretty.

Oh, really?

He ignored his shadow, listening to the muted hammering of defenses being erected and the clangsof weapons clashing together in mock combat. Impa slowly intoned, "This is a sight I had hoped I would never see again."

They continued through the town, surprised at the amount of change that had been incurred in such a short time. None stood idle; every able-bodied man and woman was at work, everything from peeling unnecessary wood from homes for reinforcing fortifications to ferrying supplies to and from different sections of town. Even small children could be observed carrying pails of water and ladles, moving among the sweating populace with water to cool their throats. The group shuffled to the side, letting a man leading a pair of horses labor past; many wooden beams trailed behind them, lashed into a bundle and tethered to the horses' straining flanks. "I have to hand it to him," Zelda breathed, "Roscin knows how to get things done."

"That he does, ma'am," Karsof agreed. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Perhaps I was wrong."

The rather odd group eventually made their way to the western gate, where the work was the most frenzied. Per Zelda's suggestion, rows of sharpened stakes had been planted points-upward for ten feet inside the town wall, ensuring that any Rak attempting to leap their defenses would find a gory landing. The gate itself had been reinforced with bands of wood and steel; even a battering ram would find its penetration to be a formidable task. Currently it stood open, allowing workers to trickle in and out with supplies; further work was being performed outside. An armored figure stood with its back to them atop the town wall, barking orders to workers outside its stony embrace.

"Roscin!" Link cried.

The man turned, surprised, and called out, "That was fast!" in return. Turning and giving concise orders to a subordinate beside him, he quickly scampered down a ladder, made his way to them, and saluted. "Impa, Generals, your Highness."

"Relax," he replied in lieu of the others.

"Thank you. How did your expedition fare?"

"Very well, though we had a brief scrape with some wildlife." He grinned, "Darunia's pledged his full support, both as a fortress in case of retreat and as a military supplement; his troops should be here late tonight or tomorrow."

"Excellent! Well done, sirs. We've been very busy as well, though that can wait--can we evacuate the villagers?"

"As soon as possible."

He sighed, relieved. "Most of the men have elected to stay, but there are many of the elderly and women and children who cannot fight. They're already packed and ready; they can leave as soon as you would like."

Link turned to Zelda, eyes questioning; she replied, "Please send them off as quickly as possible. The Knights who accompanied us will tell them of the quickest route. Do they have an escort?"

"Of course."

"Very well. That's a relief; the less innocent blood spilled, the better."

"Yes, ma'am. Ah, are those Gorons I see back there?"

They turned, en masse, to behold Maru leading his Gorons toward them, parting the throngs through sheer size. "We had an escort on the way back, twenty of Darunia's reserve; as Link said, the rest will be here as soon as they can."

He laughed, "That's great; their size alone will boost morale. Besides, we can use their help with the fortifications. Speaking of which, may I show you what we have accomplished in your absence?"

"Please."

"Come," he said, waving them towards the gate. "I'd have someone take your packs, but I'm afraid we're rather busy with slightly more important matters. If it wouldn't be a problem, we can swing past the tavern and drop them off there."

"That would be fine, Roscin."

They made their way through the gate, beholding a small sea of workers busy digging trenches and erecting spike-lined pits, angled spears grounded in the dirt to eliminate cavalry, and other such defenses. "We have been working whenever possible to erect internal and external fortifications," Roscin proudly announced. "A full-scale assault on the enemy's part would be very painful to witness."

"Link!" Maru called from behind them. "How may we assist you?"

He nodded to Roscin, who replied, "Spread out throughout the village; we need the most help near the western and southern walls. Wherever you think you can help, just ask one of the commanding officers; they will instruct you further."

The large creature nodded curtly and left, anxious to help; he had informed of the full extent of their plight. Roscin continued, "All work is focused inside, however, after nightfall; we can't risk being caught in and killed with our own traps."

"Wise," Kain commended. "Make sure you do not forget that not all of Reval Keshan is nocturnal, however; they have the potential to attack at any time."

"I know; we have archers patrolling the walls at all times of day and night, and I believe you have seen the extent of internal patrols. If any attack, we will know." He waved them back towards the town.

"Have any attacked?" Malon asked.

"Not so far, thankfully. You are right; they are regrouping. I believe the workers have finally understood that all hell is about to come--they have put all possible effort into their work." They continued further into town, passing several half-complete buildings that swarmed with people. "We've also been taking apart many of the houses that were still being built for supplies; several of your Knights, Karsof, have set about building ballistae, catapults and such, though I don't think any are functioning as of right now.

"New recruits and detachments of Knights have been trickling in; the houses are crammed. I've organized the work and patrols into several shifts, which lightens the load somewhat, but we will soon be overflowing. However, once the town is evacuated we'll have more space, so that isn't an overbearing concern. You've obviously seen the stakes, planted at your request, as well . . . In addition to the new shifts we have moved all noncombatants toward the town core and established the buildings closest to the perimeter as makeshift barracks, putting the men closest to the fighting and the innocents farthest from it in the event of an attack . . ."

Their tour concluded thirty minutes later at the tavern, where Roscin departed for his duties, inviting them to settle back in and rest, resuming command later.

A bare quarter of an hour later Link nearly regretted his decision to help out with the brute labor. Even though the sun had disappeared below the horizon, staining the cloudy sky a medley of reds and purples, he had to remove his tunic and shield; though he dripped with sweat he could not dare to bare himself any more, in light of the increasing chances of attack.

He dropped another thick wooden beam with a dull thok and wiped his face. Breathing heavily, he asked, "Anything else?"

The Knight supervising him and his fellow laborers appraised him with an admiring eye. "You don't give up easy, do you?"

"No."

"For your own good, I'm ordering you to take at least a half hour break--"

"I outrank General Karsof. You can't order me, but I'm asking--what else can I do?"

The Knight recoiled, sputtering, "My apologies, sir--"

"It's fine, and please don't call me 'sir.' "

He nodded, somewhat bemused. "Very well. We need two parallel trenches, about a foot wide, three feet long, and four deep, to hold the ends of those logs you lugged over here."

"To be braced up against the door?"

"Yes."

Link sighed and looked over the western gate's defenses. He had helped reinforce it with additional wooden boards and flat strips of steel the blacksmiths had hammered out for the purpose, also adding another rack for holding a wooden beam that could be placed horizontally across the gate, making a total of two. "So we'd be able to bar the doors twice, then stick one end of those--" he nodded at the beams "--in each trench and brace them diagonally into the gate, one for each side?"

"Correct.""

He nodded his approval. "Grab me a shovel and I'll get it done." As the Knight hurried off he leaned against the cool stone wall, letting his heart settle. Their strategy was to double the guards along the top of the wall, adding archers and spearmen with long lances to spot and hopefully deal with any attackers. The men were thankfully alert, their resolve tempered by the Knights' discipline; there was none of the dangerous slacking that had run rampant before Link and the rest had departed for the Gorons. As Roscin had claimed, at least half of their forces were resting in makeshift barracks at any given time; at the slightest inclination of attack they could be moved wherever needed.

Link sighed again and wiped at his sweaty brow. I should have just gone to bed.

"Intruder--halt!"

His head snapped upward. A muffled battle cry drifted to him from further down the wall. Oh, shit.

Snatching his shield, he clambered up the ladder beside him to the top of the wall and sprinted towards a disturbance several dozen yards down its length. As soon as I consider resting, of course. Someone up there must really hate me.

He arrived in time to see the Guard that had shouted the warning lunge forward, his back to Link; a brief second later he stumbled backward, disarmed, and collapsed, apparently unconscious. Link pulled free his sword.

In the Guard's place stood a mid-sized man, face and stature muffled in a thick black cloak, hood raised; he realised with a surprised gasp that it was styled much as Kain's, though its hem was trimmed with red, not silver, and it was not of as fine a material. It's his man--the Blackguard, or whatever he called them. However, instead of Kain's intricate underlying armor, he wore a simple black garment, similarly trimmed with red. Though a sword hung at his waist he held the fallen Guard's halberd in a ready stance, knees bent and tip leveled towards Link's chest. His face was obscured with a simple cloth mask, leaving only his deep red eyes visible. He didn't attack, he was trying to get to Kain and the Guards thought he was Reval Keshan . . . He doesn't know Hylian, shit!

Link stopped ten feet from the man--Rass,he thought; he was dangerous--and froze, thinking of what to do. The Rass considered him evenly, then spun around, lashing out with the polearm's butt; the Guard behind him crumpled to the ground, bleeding from the temple but alive.

"Hey!"

The cloaked figure turned cautiously toward him, weapon ready, but did not attack. "Look," Link continued, "I'm putting down my sword." He slowly crouched and set his sword on the stone walkway, not breaking eye contact. Straightening--slowly, slowly--he said, "We're on your side. Put down the halberd."

No gleam of understanding lurked in the Blackguard's red eyes, but he seemed to understand Link's body language. Though he did not relinquish his weapon, neither he did not attack. How do I tell him to relax . . . Dammit, where's Alexis?"I'm allied with Kain and Alexis." The Rass's eyes twitched in recognition of his superiors' names; a brief stream of apparent gibberish slipped from his covered lips. "I don't understand," the Hylian responded calmly. Body language and tone, that's all I have . . .He held out his hand, palm downward, and slowly lowered it to the ground, looking pointedly at the halberd's steel tip. The Rass watched him repeat the gesture, but did not move. Come on, come on, where's Alexis--

Twang.

"No!"

The Rass dropped into a crouch as an arrow sliced cleanly through the air where his throat had been. Link flinched, surprised, and called out, "No, wait, stand down--"

It was too late. The Rass reacted quickly and efficiently, plucking a knife from the folds of his robe and sending it flipping through the air at the stymied archer behind him. Though Link's view was blocked by the Rass's body, he heard a shriek of pain. Dammit!

The Blackguard turned back to Link, eyes narrowed in anger and suspicion. "Oh, no, wait," he sputtered, "I didn't mean for that--"

The Blackguard stiffened abruptly, eyes clenching shut; the halberd clattered to the ground. Fuck, he's been hit--

His red eyes flickered open. "Lenk?"

Link tensed. "Um, Link?"

The black-garbed man nodded, straightening; he stood several inches taller than the Hylian, though still not notably tall. "Link," he corrected himself, voice deep and thick; his tongue seemed to be somewhat fuddled as he haltingly continued, "Alexis orders me to surrender peacefully and return with you to tavern."

"To tavern? --Ah, thank the Goddesses for her," he replied. Aware of the Knights sprinting towards the two of them, he turned to the would-be rescuers and called out, "Relax, he's a friend. Return to what you were doing." He picked up his sword and slid it back into its sheath, sighing his relief. "Look, let's go. I'm sorry for that display; they've been ordered to attack any who try and climb the walls."

"Wise. My apologies for the injured men; they are only unconscious, I believe. I did not throw the knife hard enough to put more than a scratch on the archer through his hauberk." He spoke more skillfully now, apparently coming to grips with Alexis's miraculous ability.

"Yeah, I'll take your word for that." He turned and began to walk towards the ladder he had ascended minutes earlier. "Come on, let's get you to the tavern."

--

They walked through the tavern door, shutting it behind them. Kain, Alexis, and the rest sat around a cluster of tables, sans Roscin. "What's this I hear of injured Guards?" Karsof thundered.

"Relax, they're fine," Link responded calmly. He was growing used to the man's temper.

Kain nodded to the Blackguard, who returned with a shallow bow. "Everyone, meet Soren, a member of my highest corps of personal guards." He went pointed to each in turn, saying, "Malon, Queen Zelda, General Karsof, Dark Link--" the shadow chuckled at the Rass's confused expression "--and Ren and Alva, with whom I believe you are acquainted."

"Yes, lord."

"Enough of 'lord;' this is all that remains of us. I believe we can afford some measure of familiarity."

Soren nodded. "Very well."

"Please sit," Zelda invited. "Welcome."

Link and the Rass acquiesced, the latter responding, "Thank you, your majesty."

"Kain's offer extends to me as well, Soren. Don't worry; we are friends here."

He nodded. "Thank you."

Link took advantage of the new-found peace to finally look over the odd newcomer. Though his eyes--if he had any; he could not tell--were obviously covered, he appeared to be able to see as well as anyone else. Didn't Kain say something about that? Seeing things without eyes, or something?In addition, though they were indoors and in relative safety he did not remove his hood, perhaps seeking to remain anonymous or such. Or, Link reflected, it could be some sort of religion; Kain's and Soren's robes seemed to somewhat resemble something a priest would wear. Still, he could not see any of the Rass's skin, covered as he was from head to toe in black. Upon closer scrutiny he observed several weapons secreted throughout his person, from two gently curved daggers sheathed unobtrusively on the inside of his forearms to an odd pair of cylinders capped with bulbous metal spheres thrust through his belt to his more obvious sword. The Hylian would have bet money on additional weapons hidden throughout the folds of his robe.

"We were about to go over our long-term standings, but I believe you are more pertinent. How--" she flinched in surprise as the lizard Kain had captured--the Scarog--leaped onto the table and scuttled on two legs toward Soren, jumping onto his shoulder and protectively perching there. Zelda smiled. "I believe you two know each other."

He nodded, eyes light, and scratched under its chin. "His name is Teik. May I ask where you found him?"

"I snatched him up on Death Mountain, but Kain tamed him somehow," Link replied. "He ran right up to him and sat on his shoulder."

"You were on the mountain as well?"

"Yes."

"I escaped through the portal and emerged in some sort tunnel. After wandering for quite a while--at least two days; I could not keep track--I reached the surface somewhere several hundred feet up the mountain's slopes, but was separated from Teik in a rockslide. I thought he was dead. You have my thanks."

Link shrugged as Zelda continued, "So you came through a portal in the mountain? Did you see anything else?"

"No. Actually, yes--a strange creature I thought at first was a boulder; it seemed benign enough, but I avoided it, regardless."

"No signs of Reval Keshan? What you saw was a Goron, by the way; they are our allies."

"No." He shrugged, then continued, "Then again, it usually does not leave any, and I couldn't track it on bare rock. I came through the portal late enough that it could have escaped into the tunnels; I was nearly a day behind it. I'm not sure why it didn't shut the portal behind it."

"Ah," Zelda reflected. "I don't know much of this creature, but I do know that portals are often summoned for a set amount of time; it could have wanted to leave itself time in case it could not, ah, finish up in time."

"Perhaps."

A brief pause. "So, Soren," she began, "I'll give you the choice; should we debrief you or should you debrief us first?"

The Blackguard replied, "I believe I have news that cannot wait."

"Please explain. We would also like to know how you arrived here safely, as well, and how you managed to come from the west--the plains, which we have every reason to believe are being roamed by Reval Keshan--instead of from the mountain."

He nodded, seeming to disturb Teik. The lizard chirped oddly and scuttled to his opposite shoulder. "You are going to be attacked. Soon."

"What? How do you know?" Karsof snapped, alarmed.

"I descended the mountain's northwest slopes, only a mile or so from this town, and set out for my vague southwest; I had no where to go, and my appearance has had me attacked on sight in my own world--there was no reason for me to believe this was any different. I hoped to avoid undue notice and hopefully find another of my kind; only a small section of Reval Keshan made it through the portal I did, as there was no evidence of a large host of creatures, so I hoped it had created another to transport the rest of itself, possibly also inadvertedly saving a few of our own as well. I assume I was correct, given your presence." he waved to the other Rass.

"Regardless, after a day I came upon a small village. I did not enter, but instead remained around the long grass at its edges; I found that its inhabitants had been killed and absorbed by Reval Keshan. In addition, a large army, of sorts, was resting in the village center; it was amassing its forces, with several hundred assorted 'men' and at least a hundred Rak. Have the others informed you of Rak?"

"Yes. We encountered a few of them, to say the least."

"Then you knew my worry. More streams of creatures were also moving in from the north, west, and south." Karsof cursed loudly. "As they were arriving from the three cardinal directions, I assumed they would be heading west, the way I had come. When I left, meaning to try and inform this town--we're directly in their path--of its dangerous status, it had at least five hundred men with more Rak." He shrugged, eliciting a grunt from the Scarog on his shoulder. "I came as quickly as I could, then tried to hail a guard and was attacked. I believe you know the rest."

Silence reigned supreme for the better part of a minute. It was broken by Karsof, who growled, "How far?"

"I've run for twenty-four hours, taking as few breaks as I dared."

He raised his eyebrow. "You don't exactly appear exhausted."

"I've been trained for the worst, sir. I am weary, but not unduly so."

As he huffed his scorn Zelda cut in, "Does anyone know how fast it can travel en masse?"

Kain replied shortly, "Fast. If Soren could make it here in twenty-four hours it could likely make the trip in thirty-six."

The General snorted and grunted, "The best-trained army can't march as fast as a running man."

"This is not an army, General. I doubt that it would need to rest unduly, or even sleep. It has incredible coordination. Do not underestimate its potential; it be this town's demise."

Karsof seemed sobered by Kain's solemn tone. "Very well; so it could attack in as little as twelve hours. For caution's sake, let's cut that down to six. I talked to Roscin; we've got about four hundred men-at-arms--basically farmers with whatever weapons they could scrounge up; we're in the process of training them as we go--and seventy-five Knights, counting our escort up the mountain and those who have come in from the rest of the plains; more are trickling in. If we can keep them out of the town itself I think we could hold them off."

Link nodded his agreement. "I think the fortifications can make up for being outnumbered, and we've got the Gorons coming in sometime in the next two days; with them I think we'd actually outnumber them."

"Did you notice any siege engines? Trebuchet, catapults, battering rams, and such?"

Soren shook his head. "No, sir. However, it has typical relied on more, ah, organic means to achieve the same goal."

"Organic?"

"It can create large creatures that would be able to smash through walls or gates. It has sufficient numbers for at least one; if we intend to stay here and defend the town we'll need to have some means of dealing with large, armored creatures. They could do immense damage if left unchecked."

Link sighed and scratched at his head. "Anyone have any ideas? I know that we have several Knights building ballistae and such, but getting those onto the walls so we could shoot downward at something attacking the gates would be hard, if not impossible."

"You'd be able to take care of them," Zelda decided. "You've done it before."

"Very, very different circumstances, Zelda," Link replied, slightly flustered. "For one, those weren't in the middle of a large scale battle."

"Don't sell yourself short, Link," she reassured him confidently. "You're one of--actually, the greatest warrior in Hyrule, probably for at least several centuries onward, given your title." His cheeks pinkened slightly; his shadow laughed at his discomfort. "I have faith that you and your shadow can take down nearly anything."

The Hylian scratched somewhat awkwardly at his elongated ears as the others stared at him. "I'm not that good at that, you know."

"Oh, yes, you are. Especially with the others supporting you; is anyone against following Link and, to a lesser extent, his shadow as a group against any of Reval Keshan's, ah, surprises in the event of an attack?"

Even Karsof did not argue, remembering his performance in Death Mountain. "Very well," she continued. "I'd reccomend you follow his directions; he is not what he appears."

Gee, thanks, I guess. Subtle.

--

After the impromptu meeting had adjourned Dark Link followed Impa outside, hurrying to walk alongside her as she headed towards the training grounds at the town's center. "Hey, Impa--"

"No." She didn't even look at him.

"What do ya mean, no? I haven't even said anything yet!" he sputtered.

"There's only one thing you would think to ask me for. And the answer is no."

"But I need it, you know--we need it. You know how powerful Link is; how'd you like to have two of him?"

She growled, "I already do, and you're a enough of a potential threat as it is. We don't need you running around with even more power."

"Goddesses, lady, I'm Link's shadow! What's a little more gonna do?"

"I don't know." She deftly stepped around a panting worker hauling a load of wood; Dark Link smoothly melted into shadow, slipped beneath him, and reformed at her side once she had passed him. "But I'd not care to find out."

"This thing knows I can't appear in light--it held me hostage, you know! If it attacks in the day we'll need all the help we can get."

The Sage of Shadow stopped and spun to face him, eyes glowing with anger, and jabbed a finger into his chest. "If you think I'm stupid enough to believe your pitiful excuse for allying with the thing than you're even more foolish than I thought, shadow. Don't believe that I believe or trust you for an instant--the only reason I'm not sealing you back in my temple right now is because Zelda explicitly ordered me not to. But I'm watching you. If you so much as look at someone wrong you'll be gone. And there's no way in hell I'm going to give you an artifact that would let you run amok like a wolf among sheep! I'm no fool--you were here murdering people not long ago, waiting for me to return so you could get your hands on it. There's no chance. Be glad you aren't sealed in the temple with the others."

He didn't bother to follow as she stalked off, anger smoldering in her breast. "Fuck," he mumbled to himself, turning back to the tavern, "menopause must be a bitch."

--

Dawn.

Holding half of a loaf of bread, Link pushed through the tavern door and shivered as he felt the cool outside air wash over him. Chewing on his freshly baked breakfast, he began to slowly stroll towards the town wall, enjoying the morning. The labor had not slowed overnight; if anything, its speed had increased, spurned onward by the Blackguard's news. He was pleased to note that he no longer could see any children or residents unsuited for fighting. Roscin must have sent them on their way; good. Less to worry about.

He tore off another hunk of bread and enjoyed its aroma before biting into its soft warmth. Few things made you appreciate food, he noted, than eating nothing but stale bread and water for weeks on end. The town was still all but enshrouded in shadow, as the sun had not yet cleared Death Mountain's monumental crest, but the Gorons' home was crowned with a halo of blooming yellows, pinks, and oranges as the sun's brilliance began to spill across the sky. Though he could see the faint wisps of his breath, it would be a warm day--there was not a single cloud blotting the sky.

The bread was half gone by the time he reached the western wall; he held it in his teeth as he clambered up another creaky wooden ladder, mindful of the dew beading on the footrests. Pulling off another piece, he stood atop the wall and froze.

A dark blot on the horizon stood out from the endless waves of green.

It's here. His stomach dropped; he lowered the bread from his mouth, appetite gone.

"I noticed it about a half hour ago."

Link twitched and jerked his head to the right. Roscin merely stared at the blotted horizon. "Do the others--?"

"I sent a message to the tavern to notify them of it when they wake. Apparently he missed you; understandable. You don't precisely look like a general. If it gets any closer I'll have them notified."

"Goddesses." He shook his head slowly, hoping against hope that he was not seeing what was before his eyes. "It's easy to talk about shit this big . . . It doesn't sink in 'til it comes up and stares you in the eye."

Roscin nodded somberly. "Hard to grasp the scope of it . . . And something tells me it's gonna get worse."

"I guess it's waiting for dark for the Rak. It's not even bothering with surprise; fucker's laughing in our faces."

"We have cavalry. If you'd like, we can send a surprise--"

"No," Link interrupted somewhat harshly. "They'd get slaughtered; our fortifications are our only advantage here. Besides, it probably wants us to try and attack it."

He nodded. "True." After a pause he continued, "May I make a suggestion?"

"You know me well enough--go ahead."

"I wouldn't do any work today." He pointed his chin at the blatantly positioned army. "I get the feeling you're gonna need it tonight."

"Yeah, I know."

"Besides that, though, you might want to see a blacksmith--preferably one of the Knights' own. You know, get some armor on ya, patch up that hauberk, that sort'a thing."

He tore his eyes from the horizon and handed the bread's remnants to Roscin. "Here, give that to a sentry. I'm gonna take you up on that advice."

The High Knight nodded. "Very wise, Link. Hey, watch your back, okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded, starting down the ladder, "you too."

By the time he reached the blacksmith the sun had begun to peek out from behind Death Mountain's summit, lending the town a pale yet pervasive light that gleamed off of the dew-crowned grass. Link knew the building well enough; he had visited it many times after finding his shield mangled after a fight. The squat brick building sat next to the gate to the mountain's slopes, making it that much closer to the Gorons' expert advice and supplies.

Hearing the raucous clanging of hammer on hot steel, he rapped briefly on the door and let himself in, knowing there was no way that he could be heard over the din. He was greeted with a wave of hot, dry heat; the forge was fired up, lending the shop a ruddy red glow. The muscled blacksmith, Armand, hunched over the anvil, back to Link; his hammer flashed up and down, crying stridently for attention and spitting sparks from the red-hot metal it beat into form. "Hey, Armand!"

The hammer hitched, then froze in midair. "Gimme a sec," the man gruffly asked, and dunked a blazingly hot sword into a tub of water beside him. Steam hissed violently, momentarily obscuring Armand's stocky figure. After a moment he set his hammer down and turned around, wiping his sweat-laden jowls with the back of one gloved hand. "Link!"

He grinned and stepped forward, extending one hand as the blacksmith enthusiastically pumped his arm up and down. "Been too long."

"Oh, far too long, you know. Where've'ya been? I heard you moved east, or something."

He shrugged. "I just took a break. Went to Termina, hung around, did some traveling."

"Ah-ha, Termina, that's what they said, huh. I knew that." He shook his head briefly, sending droplets of sweat flying. "Anyway, it's good to see ya around here, even in a shitty little time like this. What can I do for ya?"

"We're gonna get some ugly stuff going on soon--probably by nightfall--and I need some protection."

"Mm," he grunted, scratching his cheek. "Yeah, big surprise there. I've been cranking swords and armor out like crazy for a week; reminds me of times best left forgotten. Anyway, anything in particular you looking for? I know you've got quite the collection of stuff; I'd rather not make something you already have."

Link hesitated as he took a brief mental inventory of his supplies. "I need chain mail, preferably a short-sleeved hauberk, and greaves, at the very least."

"Ah," he exclaimed after a brief moment, "I've got a perfect hauberk--just finished it last night, so it should be good 'n' cool by now." He shuffled over to a heavy wooden chest and flipped the catch to open the lid. A moment later he held up what appeared to be a shuffled curtain of steel rings. "I made it so it'd fit just about anybody; sleeves only go to the elbow, so your arms are light 'n' easy but vulnerable, so I'd watch it if ya go for this." With a grunt he bounced it up and down, setting its myriad rings clinking. "Not light, but not heavy, all things considered. I think it's about forty pounds, give or take a few."

"Can I try it on?"

"Go ahead."

Link stripped off his tunic and swordbelt, then slowly wormed his way into the hauberk's steel embrace. It washeavy--he'd have to get used to that quickly, for his sake--but not to the point of uselessness. He was essentially ensconced in a curtain of steel from mid-thigh to neck and elbow. Thankfully his undershirt was relatively thick, otherwise the rigors of battle might make the rings that were supposed to save him grind away his skin. He jumped up and down briefly, getting a feel for its weight, and windmilled his arms, testing his range of movement. "Very nice," he complemented, pleased. "How much?"

"Forty rupees."

Link balked, "Forty? This thing's worth at least eighty, and that's being--"

"Shut up and take the deal, Link. I still owe you from that shipment you protected for me."

After a fair amount of ironic haggling he slapped fifty rupees into the blacksmith's palm. As he pulled his tunic and weaponry back on over his new chain mail Armond asked somberly, "How bad are we? The town, I mean."

He sighed, fiddling with his sword belt buckle. "I'm not gonna lie, we're in some deep shit, but if everyone really rallies together I think we can beat this thing."

" 'Deep shit?' Your optimism is overwhelming me. Anyway, 'bout those greaves, I've got quite a few lying around for some Guards or some stuff like that . . . Just a sec." He rummaged inside the chest again, pulling out three bundles wrapped in cloth. "Here we go. I've got three, each a different size . . ." Armand plopped two bundles onto a small desk with a muffled metallic clunck. He unwrapped the first, displaying two identical curved metal plates, molded and beaten into a rough shape that would fit over the shin. "These are just from ankle to below the knee; relatively light, but doesn't cover much. It buckles right over your leg, but I'd recommend keeping some leather or cloth or somethin' between the metal and whatever you're wearing beneath it, otherwise you may end up with a fractured shin."

Link nodded. "Let's see what else you've got."

"Wise." The blacksmith dropped the greaves to the ground, their fall muffled by the cloth beneath them, and unwrapped the second bundle. "These are heavier and cover more, but to be honest, they might be a tad unwieldy; I don't know how you fight, but this is for the guy that lets the bad guys do the dodging."

"They look a little big . . . What's the last one?"

The greaves dropped with another clunckas Armand grabbed the final bundle. "I'd recommend these, myself. Look, this is basically your compromise between the first two--it's fairly strong, covers much, but isn't that heavy. A glancing strike'll probably give you an ugly bruise but nothing worse; if someone is pretty intent on chopping off your foot, though, it'll either hold or restrict how deep the sword or whatever can go. Maybe instead of loosing a limb you'll be limping for a while; not perfect, but, hey, better than the opposite, ya know? It's got a little plate that covers your foot itself, in case anyone tries to take off your toes; the shin plate overlaps it, though, so there isn't a gap they could exploit. Got another one for your kneecap, same deal, connected with a little strip of leather on the inside, another strap goes around the back of your knee--simple stuff. Anyway, what I really like about this type is how it covers your back.

"Whoever thought of this was pretty damn smart, I'll give 'em that. The shin section--lower greaves, to get technical with 'ya--is basically a mold of a shin, split vertically along the sides so that it can clap open and shut on these little leather hinges. All ya do is shut it around your shin, buckle 'er up, and you've got a new steel skin, front and back. Buckle the knee 'n' foot plate on and you're good to go."

Link held the steel contraption, impressed. "How much?"

"Twenty."

"Goddesses, Armand, you're gonna--"

"I'd get nothing if a Guard took it." He shrugged. "I get some pocket change, you get to keep your legs healthy. Sounds good for me."

He sighed and exchanged the greaves for a red rupee. "You're too generous. Probably why you're poorer than shit."

The man laughed. "Prob'ly. Oh, and just to let ya know, I'd go and spar or something with those on; you'll want to get used to the weight."

He nodded. "Hey, thanks again."

"Just do me a favor and put it to good use, huh?"

Link chuckled darkly, "I hope I don't have to."

--

The Hylian found Ren and Alva sparring lightly in a small corner of the main square, away from the rest of the busy trainees. He opened his mouth to call to them, then stopped. An impromptu target range had been set up along the base of the windmill, with twenty scarecrows set up "shoulder" to "shoulder" with their backs to the wall. Malon stood twenty yards away, sending arrow after arrow streaking into her designated scarecrow; the hay-stuffed target resembled a pincushion. Link walked up to her instead, surprised at her speed and accuracy. "You're pretty good at that, huh?"

She turned to him, surprised, then resumed her shooting. "I've been practicing for two years."

Pulling his own bow from its quiver, he took the lane next to her and put an arrow to the string. "A lot of people who've been training since their teens aren't that good yet. You've got a knack for it."

"Thanks," she replied tersely. A small bead of sweat adorned her temple, twitching as she pulled the string nearly to her cheek and let loose another arrow; the scarecrow jumped, pierced through the chest. "I try."

Link pulled the string back, aimed briefly, and let go; his scarecrow's lumpy bag of a head whipped backward. "You make your own arrows?"

"When I can." Twang; she pulled another arrow from her quiver. "I'm okay at it, I think, but I end up buying a lot. It's easier."

He nodded. "Hard to find straight enough wood, anyway. The tips can be aggravating."

"Mm-hm." Firing another arrow, she sighed and lowered her bow. "I'm out. Don't shoot, I'm going to get them back."

"Yeah." He let his arm go slack as she walked down the lane, gait stiff. Why's she so uptight?--oh. I'm a dumbass.

After a moment she returned, quiver full, and took her place, putting another arrow to the string. "What?" She gave him a look. "You're staring."

He shrugged. "Worried 'bout tonight? You seem tense."

"I'm fine." She sank another arrow into her scarecrow's throat. "I'll be fine."

"That's not what I asked," he gently pushed.

She paused. "I just want to back at that thing. I don't care if I'm worried."

He shot another arrow. "That isn't the best motivation, you know. Revenge, I mean. It'll cloud your judgement."

"How would you know?" she snapped defensively. "You don't even have anyone to loose."

Link stiffened. She sighed and apologized, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm just worried."

"It's fine," he grunted. "I know how you feel. It isn't great."

She shook her head. "I shouldn't even be here."

He raised his eyebrows. "How?"

"You've done stuff for the Family; I know that much. Roscin's a High Knight. Karsof's a General. Dark Link's powerful enough to be important. Kain, Ren, and the rest all know what we're dealing with. Impa's a Sage." She grunted and shot another arrow. "I'm a farmgirl who happened to be in the thing's way. There's no reason for me to be with you guys."

He shrugged. "Zelda isn't stupid, Mal. I like to think I'm not either, but I have my doubts. Look, you're proof that this thing can be beaten. Besides, for you this is personal--this bastard killed your family and basically screwed you over. We're just letting you do what you'd try to do anyway--we're giving you the tools you need."

Malon was silent for several minutes. "Thanks."

"Hm?"

"I don't think I ever thanked you for saving me."

He shrugged. "You did. Besides, there's no need for it."

"Don't feed me that crock, Link. I saw the looks you shot Ren right after I woke up. You were the only one who had any hope of saving me."

He shrugged mutely.

"So, thank you."

"It's nothing--"

"Shut up and take the thank you, Link."

He smiled, internally marvelling at the second time he'd heard the phrase that day. "You're welcome, Mal."

--

Dark Link snorted into his beer. Oh, be still, my heart! What a fuckin' pussy. Upending his mug, he chugged the frothing beverage and rapped the counter. "Hey, come on, I'm thirsty."

The bartender took his mug with a sigh and carried it over to a tapped keg. "Isn't a little early for beer?"

He laughed. "It is never the wrong time to drink. Ever."

The mug plopped down before him, nearly overflowing. "Here. Number three."

The shadow grinned, then drank nearly a third of it in one go and wiped a thin mustache of froth from his lip. "Ah, very nice. Keep this up and I'll promote you, or whatever High Knights do."

"Of course," he snorted. The portly man leaned against the counter a fair distance away on the bar, sighing at his unpredictable customer and scratching the bald dome of his head. "Shouldn't you be sober? We can actually see the bad guys, you know. They're just waiting 'till night, I heard."

"Oh, come on, now," he groaned. "Didn't you ever learn that you get a profit by getting people to drink, not telling them not to?"

"I'd rather be alive to spend what little money I already have."

"Ugh, shut up and poor yourself a whiskey. You're boring sober."

"It's not even noon yet. I think I'll pass." The man scratched at his gray-flecked beard. Goddesses, what's wrong with this guy? Beyond the entire Satanic look, of course.

"Wuss," the shadow goaded, and laughed. "Come on, Lloyd. What's your name? Is it Lloyd?"

"No," he replied bemusedly. "It's Derek."

"Fft, Derek. Every good bartender should be named Lloyd. I mean, all my bartenders should be named Lloyd, and right now you're my bartender, so you're Lloyd, eh, Lloyd?"

The newly dubbed "Lloyd" rolled his eyes. "And you are drunk."

"Oh, Goddesses, if I'm drunk your name's Derek, not Lloyd. I'm just off my rocker. Crazy." He twirled a finger around his pointed ear and rolled his eyes in emphasis, flashing his oddly pointed teeth in a slightly morbid smile.

"Finally," Derek sighed under his breath, "something we can agree on."

"Jeez, Lloyd, for a bartender you're pretty snide. I mean, you're not even hanging out by me. Come on, come here, Lloyd. You're breaking the psycho-bartender dynamic."

He sighed and walked over, standing behind the bar in front of the shadow. Whatever. He's a paying customer, after all. "Psycho-bartender dynamic?"

"Don't play dumb, Lloyd. Here, I'm empty. Fill 'er up." As the bartender slowly walked back to the keg, Dark Link continued, "It's a well known fact that every psychotic son of a bitch needs a bartender to vent to and get drunk with and shit."

"And the bartender's name has to be Lloyd?" He set down the mug in front of the shadow.

"Fuck yeah, you know it. Mighty astute of you, Lloyd." He gulped at his beer. "Then," he grinned, tapping the bar with a ragged fingernail, "eventually you have to make some sort of remark that sets off the psycho. The psycho gets all violent and threatening, and maybe even roughs up Lloyd a bit, but let's him go 'cuz that's what he has to do. It's in the big script o' life, you know."

"Oh, the big script o' life. Of course, how could I forget about that?"

Dark Link surged to his feet, snatching the man by the throat, and lifted him bodily into the air. As he coughed and struggled, beating on the shadow's gauntleted forearm, his attacker snarled, "Now what the fuck did I hear in that tone of yours? Are you fucking with me? Are you jerking me around? 'Cuz I really hate being fucked with, Lloyd, I really hate being fucked with!" Holding the man suspended by the throat with one hand, he grabbed his mostly full mug of beer and chugged it dry. The shadow grinned, wiping at his mouth, and laughed, "See? It always happens! And just when you begin to worry 'bout Lloyd, Lloyd, the psycho lets him go." His hand relaxed, letting the man crumple to his knees, striking his chin sharply on the bar. As he kneeled there, gasping and massaging his throat and bloody chin, Dark Link chuckled, "Don't bother kicking me out. I'm leaving."

He slammed his mug contently onto the bar and stalked out. As he pushed through the door, Derek thought, Crazy son of a bitch . . . He didn't even pay his fucking tab!

With a groan he fainted.

--

Sunset.

Link strapped on his greaves, feeling a familiar knob of worry in his gut. If we fall here there will be no hope . . . Any hope of resistance will be crushed before it can grow. He swallowed and shook his head, determined not to fall victim to his own fears and doubts. We'll win. We won't fall to some interdemensional freak . . . It's time to show this bastard just exactly who it's fucking with.

He jumped briskly up and down, hearing his new chainmail rattle, and sighed. I'm good to go.

Five minutes later found him standing atop the town wall, gazing desolately at the all-too-short green expanse that separated the town from the aptly named "eater of worlds." The sun had already disappeared behind Death Mountain's bulk, darkening the land; they did not have much time. "They've grown," he commented.

"Yeah," Ren replied. "Joy."

Their party was spaced out every twenty yards along the western wall, excepting Link, Ren, and Alva, directly facing the enemy. Beside them bustled hundreds of Knights, men-at-arms, and Guards, nervously holding whatever weapon they could bring to the fight. Archers rubbed shoulders with men armed with long spears, hoping to kill whatever tried to assault them before they could scale the wall or smash the gate. Additional archers--including Malon, Link saw--sat atop the roofs of houses close to the wall, meant to thin the enemy ranks by shooting over the wall's defenders' heads and into the bustling mob of attackers that would soon come at them. The hundreds who could not fit atop the wall or could not shoot a bow and arrow waited tersely just inside the wall, prepared to replace any who were killed on the wall or to stem any breach in the gates or wall.

"How are the other sides?" Alva asked.

"They're guarded like this, just not as thickly. We can shift people there if they try to flank us, but I think it's just gonna try and force its way through this wall."

"Probably," she agreed. "It's arrogant. It'll assume it can just punch its way through."

"Lets prove them wrong," Ren said slowly.

Night fell fully.

The grassy plains were a massive velvet blanket comforting the land, turned a mottled purple by the darkness. A full moon glinted overhead, illuminating the defenders with its molten silver rays. Sweat dripped from countless brows; the tension was palpable, raising hair and tightening muscles with its invisible but undeniable sway.

Kain bellowed, "Here they come!"

The black army swept across the plains with eerie speed, tainting the land with every footfall. Despite their speed it took them nearly three minutes to draw close enough to pick out individual creatures; the leading wave seemed to be Hylian. Fodder, Link thought. Sent to tender us up before the muscle comes through and pounds us to hell.

"Archers!" Karsof yelled, "Fire as soon as they come within range! Brace for attack!"

Hundreds of arrows rustled from their respective quivers; bows creaked and tensed, ready to send their cargo on a lethal voyage. "Here they come," Link grunted. "Something tells me this's gonna be a long, long night . . ."

The arrows sprang into the air with a near simultaneous musical twang-ing of hundreds of bows; they disappeared into the night, invisible against the black sky. He watched with a dark satisfaction as many of the attackers fell and were trampled. There we go.

The stream of deadly projectiles resumed in fits and bursts as each archer fired as fast as he could put an arrow to the string. Dozens of the black horde fell, only to be replaced by dozens more. They aren't even slowing down!

The black surge finally encountered the pitted fortifications. Hundreds leaped over the pits and scrambled up the long mounds of dirt; even as many tripped and were trampled, or were struck down by arrows, or gored on stakes that had been laid into the pits, only a scant few screams reached Link's ears. For a reason he could not discern this sharpened the grimace on his face, though he did not let up on his withering stream of arrows. A far corner of his mind took in the information and filed it away within the catacombs of his skull.

Soon Reval Keshan's tide was a mere thirty yards from the wall. I'm gonna run out of arrows soon . . . He could make out the possessed men--and women, he noted with some discomfort--individually, even see their bloody eyes and the swirling undulations of blackness roiling beneath their skin. They held everything from swords to planks of wood in their hands, though nearly a quarter of them were unarmed.

The solid wall of rampaging flesh slammed into the bare stone of the wall and roiled as though in confusion, stymied by the seemingly impenetrable stone. "What're they gonna do?" Link yelled over the blaring din.

"I don't know," Alva responded in kind, raining arrows down upon the milling combatants. "Wait--they're climbing on each other!"

It was true; with no apparent plan nor structure they began to pile atop one another, slowly forming a rising Hylian--or, rather, not--ladder. The corpses of those who fell were merely used as stepping stones in their bloody ascension. "Shit!" Ragged hands scratched horribly at the sheer stone only three feet below Link's vantage point. He hurriedly put away his bow and gripped his sword, his body strung tight by the electric tension that accompanied combat. Sweat coated him. He was suddenly very aware of his entire being, from toe to finger to head; every sense seemed to be increased tenfold. The thub-dup of his heart was felt throughout his entire body. It was only in times like this he felt the most alive, the most aware; Link was suddenly very conscious of how much he wanted to live. To survive.

Them or me . . .

A black-veined hand slapped down on the edge of the wall. A bald head followed, skull nearly visible beneath semi-transparent skin. Stubble lined his cheeks; spittle dripped from his mouth. Blood dripped like tears from his eyes.

Fuck them.

With a cry he lopped off the man's head in a spray of black-stained crimson; the corpse convulsed and fell backward onto the pile of willing replacements below. Another hand grasped at the stone edge, jittering like a crippled tarantula before he lashed downward with his sword pommel. Bones crunched wetly--the hand disappeared.

Dimly Link heard a voice cry out, "Rak!" He cursed and struck at another groping hand, eyes searching for the canine creatures in the darkness. A twisting fur-covered figure hurtled out of the rabble below, soaring up and over the wall. He heard a dull squelch and an agonized scream; the stakes Roscin had planted were performing admirably.

Thump.

"Link! Behind you!"

The Hylian spun around, coming face to face with another snarling Rak. Its deadly hooks flashed over its head, then plummeted for his skull. He had no time to block; instead he lowered his shoulder and lunged forward, ramming into its furry midsection and sending it staggering back, flailing for balance. The hooks' jagged edges grated off of the shield on his back, the brute force behind the attack distilled by his body blow. He straightened sharply, using his vertical momentum to drive his elbow into the creature's chin; its head whipped up and back, baring its throat. Link's blade flashed in the moonlight, goring it through the neck before he twisted his body to the side, simultaneously pulling his sword free and driving his fist into the Rak's chest. It fell backwards with a gurgle, tripping over the edge and landing on the stakes below.

He spun back to the attacking army in time to see another man lunge forward, a sickle in his fist and murder in his eyes. Link twirled his sword swiftly, lopping off the descending hand; still clutching the sickle, it bounced off of his shoulder with surprising force. Blood flecked the side of his head and neck; his sword tore through the man's torso vertically, pouring his innards forth with a fetid stench. He bit back a gag and kicked the corpse over the wall, feeling still-pulsating organs squirm under his feet. Dear Goddesses . . .

Three more men leaped over the wall, eyes gleaming with madness. Another clambered over the edge and shoved one aside, roaring wordlessly. Then yet another climbed up with a snarl.

Even as he desperately thought There's too many, too fast! he darted forward, sword raised.

One made as though to attack; he swatted aside the raised sword and viciously punched it across the face, employing the strength of his Golden Gauntlets. Its skull shattered, face crumpling inward and squirting red. The corpse whipped backward, knocking one of its brethren off of the edge. Link ducked a slash at his throat and struck at the attacker's midsection, meaning to disembowel him; the man hopped backwards, leaving Link nothing to cut but the man's ragged shirt. Before he could straighten another attacker kicked savagely at his head. He surprised himself by snatching the offending foot mid-kick, then surging to his feet and shoving it into towards the sky--hard. The man flipped backward with a squawk and landed awkwardly on his head and shoulders, leaving him stunned.

Link had no time to finish the downed man, instead parrying another sword blow intent on rending him open from shoulder to opposite hip. Sparks flashed as the enemy's sword slid along Link's own, diverted just enough to pass a hair's breadth from his shoulder. He responded with a backhand swipe across the chest; blood jetted from the mortal wound.

He twisted away from the dying man and struck at yet another attacker. Unarmed, the man ducked Link's sword and lunged forward, driving both fists straight forward from the shoulder and into his would-be victim's abdomen. He staggered back, feeling his breath tear from his throat in a harsh burst, and buried the edge of his sword in the man's skull. To his left he observed a trio of attackers heatedly exchanging blows with Ren and Alva, their backs to him. Big mistake.

Crying out in effort, he spun once, holding his sword at chest height. All three men crumpled to the ground, spines severed, leaving the two Rass looking at them quizzically. He smiled tightly as they nodded their appreciation; the two were as blood-spattered as he. "We can't keep this up forever!" he yelled. "They're gonna take the wall!"

"Maybe," Ren replied, "but if they do they'll have to get down--if we pull the ladders off, any that try to jump down'll be as good as--" he ducked as an arrow whizzed past his head "--as good as dead!"

He barked a mirthless laugh, remembering the deadly stakes. "The Hylians, maybe, but the Rak'll be able to jump over them!"

The Rass shrugged; there was no answer beyond further bloodshed.

With a cry they returned to the fight.

--

Soren sprang backward, easily evading another blow, and lunged forward to slash his attacker across the chest. The Rak stubbornly refused to fall, though it swayed on its feet as blood poured down its front. Before the creature could recover he quickly swung his sword with surgical precision, cutting its throat. It collapsed in a gore-streaked heap.

Taking advantage of the brief respite, he surveyed the battleground.

Around him roiled a macabre melee; though Reval Keshan held the advantage of numbers, its possessed Hylians were at a severe disadvantage as they climbed over the wall, mitigated by the Rak's savage strength and agility. Blood covered the stone walkway as corpses collapsed left and right; the screams of the wounded and dying split the night. He was dimly aware that a slight distance to his left fought the shadow, Dark Link, and beyond that his lighter copy and the last Rassen couple. To his right Roscin fought alongside his men; he could not see beyond him, however, as his vision was obscured by the thrashing hordes.

Even as he steadily fought and killed the invading forces he allowed his mind to drift over the scale of the battle as a whole. Before he had tried to infiltrate the town he had been sure to thoroughly study the potential strengths and weaknesses of its fortifications; he had been satisfied with what he observed. The only real weakness that Reval Keshan could exploit were the relatively low walls and the gates--while the first had been somewhat addressed by the sharpened stakes, if only temporarily, in the event of the gates' destruction and if the enemy managed to spread through the town any hopes of victory were all but squandered in the face of such numerical superiority.

For reasons he could not discern no massive beast had yet been created to smash through their defences; either Reval Keshan was exceedingly arrogant and was not bothering to, or it had some other sort of trick planned. For everyone's sake the Blackguard hoped for the former and planned for the latter. If any Rak managed to slip past he swore to himself to cut it down before it could manage to open the gates; thus he had placed himself within a stone's throw of the town's greatest weakness, examining it whenever he could to ensure none had.

The battle intensified over the next hour. Evidently Reval Keshan had no intention of holding Kakariko under siege, instead electing to try and crush it immediately; thus the flow of enemies did not cease, nor would cease, if they continued at this pace, for quite a while. Soren did not tire, instead falling into a steady rhythm--evade, strike, parry, strike, attack, counterattack. Though the combat was extremely demanding--all violence was--he did not fall victim to fatigue; his natural physiology coupled with the intense training he had undergone had hardened him. He was not at his peak after his long ordeal in the plains, but he was far from weak.

After a time the moment he had predicted came. Several large Rak--five? seven? ten? they moved too quickly to tell--leaped from atop the wall, landing several yards clear of the deadly stakes. As they turned to attend to the gates another three mirrored their entry; more would inevitably follow, punching through a faltering segment of Hylian defenders and clearing the melee atop the wall to raise hell within the town itself.

The Blackguard rapidly finished his opponent, then turned and jumped, soaring ten feet upward and twenty forward; he landed in a crouch several feet clear of the stakes, breathing evenly. He noticed with some satisfaction that many Knights rushed from the buildings around him to attack the attackers; however, the relatively tight spacing between stakes ensured that only ten or fifteen could actively engage the Rak at a time. Any more would only impede each other and lead to otherwise avoidable injuries.

As he sprinted toward the clashing forces he felt the pouch nestled into the small of his back beneath his robe stir as Teik shifted restlessly, malcontent to remain in hiding while his partner was in such danger; still, there was nothing the Scarog could do against foes so large and in such great numbers.

Within moments he carefully threaded through the miniature forest of stakes, forcing himself to slow down. If he were to trip or stumble he could gore himself on their deadly tips; this would make this encounter difficult.

Two thirds of the Rak--seven, at the least--had formed a semicircle around the gate, protecting their comrades from the Knights' assault while they worked at destroying or at least unbarring the gates from the inside. Ten Knights worked at penetrating their startlingly efficient defense while dozens more stood back, unable to fight because of the stakes; their own fortifications had created a veritable bottleneck, allowing a small number of Rak to hold off the vastly larger group of Knights. It could not protect them from archers, however, as a steady stream of arrows laid waste to the innermost creatures that worked at the gates themselves; they did not dare aim at the other defending Rak, as they had as much of a chance of hitting a Knight as one of their enemies.

He arrived to the fray in time to see a Hylian topple backwards, clutching at his entrails. Soren stepped past the mortally wounded soldier and closed with the Rak that stood in his place. He allowed the blood-drenched creature to make the first move; it forfeited him the advantage of surprise and a quick, deadly blow to finish the fight before it could begin, but it also allowed him to harness the creature's tenacity and bloodlust to his own advantage. The Rak roared, lifted both hooks above its head, and hacked downwards mightily--too mightily. Soren held his sword diagonally above his head, its tip lower than the hilt. Both hooks screeched across the specially forged Rassen steel and passed harmlessly to his side, pulling their wielder forward as the sheer force behind the blow tugged the furry creature off balance. His blade darted forward twice, quickly, efficiently. The Rak howled and crumpled to the ground, a crimson x across its chest spilling blood to pool in the dirt.

He pressed forward, but only proceeded three paces before another creature took the place of the one he had killed with an angry snarl. Nonplussed, Soren feinted for its throat and instead slashed horizontally at its lower thighs. Although his opponent flinched away from his feint, it reacted swiftly to remedy its error, meeting his sword with one of its hooks and swinging at his skull with the other. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the hook's jagged edge, and responded with a harsh kick; the edge of his boot glanced off of its exposed ribs, sending it staggering back with a grating cry of pain. Sensing the advantage, he lunged and stabbed at its heart. Though the Rak managed to parry his attack it did not escaped unscathed, as his blade bit deeply into shoulder instead of breast, shearing through tendons and ligaments and rendering its arm useless. As it howled in agony he liberated its entrails from the prison of its abdomen, gutting it from hip to hip.

The soon-to-be corpse collapsed, admitting him to a small glance around his surroundings. Only four Rak had been felled, including the two he had just killed, while ten Hylians lay dead. His eyes narrowed in anger at the sight. Furthermore, one of the diagonal beams braced against the gates had been removed with great effort, though the second stood firmly; a Rak also chopped at the two others barring the gate, as someone had wisely nailed them into the door itself upon the sighting of their opposition. He was contrastingly impressed with and dismayed at the Hylian fortifications and the enemy's tenacious progress, respectively.

Soren returned to himself in time to parry and couterattack yet another Rak, who soon thrashed, headless, in the dirt. He--they--had no time. If they proceeded at this pace the gates would be compromised and the town subsequently lost. He had to do something to distract the Rak from their demolition.

The new hole in their semicircle was before him; to exploit it would expose his flanks and allow the enemy to easily surround him. Though rendering himself vulnerable as such clashed against nearly every combative instinct ingrained in the fiber of his being, he had no choice--he had to keep the gates from being opened.

He ran forward, moving as swiftly as he dared amidst the dangerous stakes that surrounded him. The semicircle of Rak failed to notice him, as embroiled as they were with his allies; as such he was a mere few yards away from the gates when he was observed by those behind him. At the distinctive rattle of a length of chain he dropped into a roll, not slowing as a jagged hook swept overhead, thrown from behind him. He was surrounded; speed was key.

Five Rak worked at the gates' demise, three working to unroot or destroy the diagonal beam while two hacked at the two horizontal beams nailed directly into the door itself. This lent him the advantage of surprise, coupled with agility, as the gates themselves lay in a small clearing of stakes to better accommodate their workers, perhaps five yards square. So intent were the hairy creatures on their work that they did not notice his approach.

The first to fall was tugging futilely at the diagonal beam's base; it fell headless with only a meaty chungand a gouting spray of blood to signal its demise. Its two companions roared a warning to their comrades and sprang away, gripping their hook blades and regarding him with feral, intelligent eyes; surprise was lost.

They did not immediately attack, instead spreading out with the intent of surrounding him, then tearing into his flesh from all angles; this would not be tolerable. He lunged forward, slashing at the central Rak's throat--it ducked and retaliated, trying to impale him on the tips of its hooks. Rather than try and block the hooks or try and dash clear of their range he planted his feet and flipped over the the creature's head, landing easily at the Rak's back; a sharp blow to the back of its neck with his sword pommel shattered its vertebrae, leaving it to drop limply into the dirt. Soren danced backward, his back now to the gates. For now, at least, he had stopped their tampering.

Yet as the three remaining Rak turned on him, snarling, he momentarily regretted his choice--at what cost would this distraction come? He shook his head. Do not think of it that way. You haven't fallen yet.

The lead beast raised its weapons and charged, its comrades following. Soren tensed--he was cornered--

The first Rak gurgled, marveling at the wooden shaft that protruded from its throat. It tripped over its own feet in its panic and thrashed on the ground, clutching at the lethal wound as blood pooled around its quivering form. The others hesitated momentarily, glancing at their fallen leader, then behind them, at a certain redhead atop the adjacent building.

It was their undoing. He raised his sword overhead and grunted lowly as it descended with deadly force; the blade nearly split one Rak in two from forehead to groin. Hot blood doused his front. Soren turned to the other creature and stabbed it through the gut, burying his sword to the hilt with the sheer force of his strike. Surprise and pain flashed in the Rak's gleaming eyes as it gasped, dropping its weapons. He began to pull his sword free--but was stopped as both gnarled hands grasped his forearm, sharp claws punching through cloth and skin alike. Its head swung forward, formidable jaws craning open and displaying a ghastly rictus of needlelike fangs.

He jerked backward, anchored to the creature by his arm, and snatched it by the throat with his free hand; its deadly teeth snapped shut inches from his face with a clack. The Rak's eyes bulged comically, realizing it was helpless; one arm released his own and cocked back, claws already dripping with his dark blood.

To hesitate meant death. Calling on his immense strength--and battling three solid days of ceaseless travel--Soren lunged to his left, dragging the Rak along with him, then lifted the creature bodily off the ground by the throat and his sword, still planted deep within its abdomen. He twisted, using his momentum and sheer strength to swing the Rak headfirst around him--and directly into the town wall's sheer stone face.

Its skull detonated, sending strips of gore and bone fragments flying amidst a miniature explosion of blood; such was the force of Soren's blow that its spine snapped in three seperate places. The corpse shuddered once and dropped limply to the dirt, sliding wetly off of his sword.

The Blackguard allowed himself a brief moment of rest, waving his mute thanks to Malon for her archery. Within seconds he ran towards the failing semicircle, sword ready by his side; the gates may be secure--for now, at least--but there were other objectives that begged completion.

--

And so the battle for Kakariko raged on.

For every beast that was struck down two leaped into its place; inversely, the Hylian forces were not as plentiful. After another two hours of bloodshed both forces had been thinned considerably; though Reval Keshan held numerical superiority, its forces were cut down in greater numbers, vulnerable as they were clambering over the wall. The night air rang with the macabre clatter of battle--the clashing of steel melded inextricably with the horrible screaming of fallen men. Death swept over the normally peaceful soil as it not had for decades.

The gates held--barely. Though no massive juggernaut had made its appearance thus far, the attackers had not neglected this most gaping of weaknesses, as Soren had experienced firsthand. Many fell both assaulting and defending the coveted portal.

Link grimaced. This was not going well; they had been pushed back off of the wall, though the enemy had no ready way to readily descend to the ground, as all ladders and other means of descent had been removed or destroyed. The possessed Hylians could not jump the stakes, though that did not stop them from trying. The deadly obstacles were soon covered in blood and impaled corpses. The Rak, however, were not so handicapped; Link found himself felling wave after wave of the wolfen menaces alongside the Knights and his assorted companions. The open ground was both an inhibitor and boon to both forces, as it enabled easier movement and greater freedom to both sides, while it slightly negated some of the defenders' advantages, as they could not cut down the Rak as easily as they had before in such an open area; the furred attackers were not as vulnerable as they were when they ascended the wall.

He gritted his teeth and cut open yet another attacker. "How many more?" he cried out to Zelda, who fought nearby despite his discomfort with her presence on the front lines.

"I don't know," she yelled over the raging din. "I think they've lost half their forces, but I'm not sure."

Link caught another deadly hook on his shield and shoved the offending Rak off balance. "Fuck," he spat, decapitating the creature before him. "I think we've lost about a third of ours."

"Doesn't that--" she parried a hook and slashed quickly at the Rak assaulting her, the long dagger in her hands only a glittering, deadly blur. "--make us about even?"

"Maybe. I don't know." Blood jetted from mortal wounds; another Rak crumpled to the ground like a marionette with cut strings.

Hey, Pinko, Karsof wants you to move with Soren, Kain, Zelda, and twenty men to check our flanks. You'll go left from the gate, me and the rest will go the other way. Fifteen men and the two other guys are waiting for you just beyond the edge of the big melee, along the wall and to your left.

Tell him that that'll leave our front open--

He said the Knights can hold for a little bit. We're looking for something more subtle, I guess.

Link sighed. Fine. Tell him I'm going; Zelda's with me.

If something kills you, let me know. I'll want to shake its hand.

Yeah, fuck you too.

The Hylian conveyed the General's tactics to the Queen beside him. She frowned but nodded, trusting Karsof's greater experience. They began to make their way through the tumultuous battleground as quickly as they could, threading through friend and foe alike.

After what seemed to be a violent eternity of five minutes' duration they drew up to where Kain and the others stood, cutting down the Rak that dared to try and jump down in their midst to flank the defenders. "Link, Zelda. Are you well?"

The two nodded determinedly as the entire group disengaged from the larger conflict and began to head along the wall's interior at a brisk jog, wary of any overly ambitious Rak. To their surprise, only Reval Keshan's Hylians were trying to scale the wall elsewhere; their efforts were futile thus far, as the carpet of impaled corpses attested. "They're focusing on the gate, because only the Rak can jump over and fight there, right?" Zelda queried.

Kain replied, "So we think. Still, this has gone too simply; underestimating its tactics as sheer arrogance could prove fatal if we are incorrect. So we must check the perimeter, where our defences are thinnest."

Link grunted his affirmation. "Distract us on one side, then stab us in the back. Oldest trick around."

"That doesn't mean it isn't effective."

He frowned. "What're the chances of them breaking and running if we get the advantage?"

"It depends on how important it judges this territory and my Rassen companions and I. It has launched suicide missions before; even if it sustains massive losses Reval Keshan's sheer one-mindedness will provoke it onward until it has completed its goal."

"Shit," he cursed. "So we're pretty much gonna have to kill them all?"

The Rass nodded. "In essence."

They had only been absent from the gate for four minutes when Link flinched, skull echoing with his twin's cry, Fuck the perimeter! The gates've been smashed down. We lost. Get the hell over here, we need help--we're pulling back to the mountain!

----

Oh, Goddesses, no.

Link's stomach flipped as he stared at the splintered remains of the gates; a vicious mass of possessed Hylians and Rak swarmed through the entrance to Kakariko, howling with victorious rage--they knew that the town was all but theirs. The defenders had lost every advantage, all but crushed beneath the sheer might of the enemies' numbers. They fled, retreating backwards to the eastern exit to Death Mountain, fighting off their pursuers even as they seeked escape. Dark Link had been correct. They had lost.

Not yet. If we get everyone to the Gorons we can attack later with their help, take back the village. He swallowed, heart pounding as he sprinted with the rest toward the main battleground just inside the gates. Link had no intention of leaving without a fight.

A hand grasped his shoulder, holding him back in a viselike grip. "Link!"

He whirled around, teeth grinding tightly in frustration, to see Kain. "What? I need to help--"

"You can't that way," he urgently replied. A fleck of blood on one cheek and a stray strand of hair were all that spoke of the battle's intensity. "We have to leave for aid, go to the Zoras while the Gorons and the army holds them off on the mountain."

Link's eyes bulged in anger as he growled, "I will not abandon these people--run away from the fight--"

The Rass's hand tightened on his shoulder. "I dislike it as much as you, but it is the only way to save their lives. I just received word from Alexis, through whom I have been talking to Karsof. Almost a thousand more troops just joined Reval Keshan's forces from the southwest." The Hylian felt his legs go weak; a bloom of fear smarted in his heart. A thousand?!"We have no choice. An army of that magnitude could destroy even the Gorons, given enough time. We need more allies, support, none of which we would be able to acquire while penned with the rest within the mountain."

"I--"

"There is no time, Link! Our horses are at the tavern, where the others are headed as well." He began to pull him along, realizing that their companions had been lost in the crowd.

"Fuck!" Link ripped Kain's hand from his shoulder and began to run alongside him. "This is wrong."

"This is survival, Link, as a people and as a world. Hurry, we don't have much time."

-----

Soren shoved his way through the thrashing crowd, thankful that he had moved past the bulk of Keshan's forces; a stalwart few held a tough, if failing, line of defence against the creatures. Still he was aware that the last defenders would soon be overrun, letting the Rak and the rest run rampant, slaughtering whomever they encountered. The tavern. Kain and the others would not leave their horses for extra food for Reval Keshan.

After a moment a thought struck him, locking him in place. The redhead. Malon. She would not have been at the meeting if she was not important. He whirled around to scrutinize the rooftop of the house she had been embanked earlier; he could see her vibrant red hair bobbing as she scrambled backward, slipping on the gritty tiles, trying to retrieve another arrow from her quiver as a Rak landed on the roof only feet away.

He made his decision in a heartbeat, lowering his shoulder and bulling his way to the edge of the road. She did not have much time.

Malon frantically scrabbled backward with her feet as she clawed at her quiver, staring as the Rak before her lunged and disemboweled an archer only feet away from where she had fallen on her back. Through clenched teeth she mindlessly hissed "Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit!"

Her fingers finally closed on the fletched shaft of an arrow. Sending a quick, thankful prayer to the heavens, she set it to the string and drew her arm back, taking quick aim at the advancing creature only two yards away. It lunged, roaring, even as she let the string loose with a twang; the Rak's howl cut off in a sudden, pained urkas the point disappeared down its throat, only to reemerge out the back of its skull in a spray of blood. The furred monstrosity recoiled backwards, arms flailing futilely, and toppled over the edge of the roof into the fray below.

The redhead quickly shoved her way to her feet, not entirely believing she was still alive, and felt for her quiver to count out her remaining arrows. Five left. Still, it's time to get the hell out of here. Where's the tav--

Two Rak landed on the roof a bare few feet from where she stood, cutting off her thoughts yet again. Malon cursed and flinched back, simultaneously shoving her bow into the modified quiver and snatching at the hilt of her sword. Even thus armed she knew that she had no chance against these killers; she had no delusions regarding her skills--or lack thereof--with the sword. Some far-off, detached corner of her mind gasped, Note to self: try to spar with Link more often.

The two creatures lifted their lips in a snarling grin, knowing they had the advantage. One stepped forward menacingly.

Okay, fuck this.

She spun around and sprinted to the edge of the roof, hoping against hope to escape the Raks' fearsome agility, and jumped with a defiant shout of effort. A six foot gap separated the house she had stood atop from the next one down the road; she barely spanned the jump, landing hard on the balls of her feet and nearly toppling over. Sucking air, she fought to regain her balance and kept running even as she thought desperately There's no way I can outrun them--remember what they did to the carriage, and the wall?!

Arms pumping, feet pounding against the uneven shingles beneath, she ran the length of the house, following the stream of soldiers toward the escape to Death Mountain. I've got this, I've got this, I'll be fine--fuck it, I'm screwed! No! Keep going!

She was already in the air towards the next house when the Rak landed with a heavy thud on the roof before her--directly where she was going to land. Malon's eyes bulged at the same moment the Rak's did as they both realized they were about to collide; it began to raise its hooks in defense as she instinctively bellowed and chopped down with her sword.

The two crashed into each other, falling to the roof with Malon atop the Rak. Wet heat splashed against her front. Bruised and winded, she recoiled backward, teeth bared, mentally preparing herself for the cold sting of its hooks.

Nothing.

Realizing she had shut her eyes in her panic, she tentatively forced her eyelids apart. With a gasp she realized that the Rak was dead; she had split open its skull with her blind, panicked strike. She winced in disgust, realizing that its blood coated her chest, and wrenched her sword free.

Thud.

She looked up, shocked, to behold the second Rak snarling beside her. Oh, shit! Malon hurled herself to the side, feeling a cold breath of air as its deadly hooks tore through the air where her throat had been. Landing heavily on her side, she thrust her sword upward in a futile act of self-preservation. The creature snarled and raised its hooks above its head.

Soren leaped from the building the farmgirl had just fled from, sword stabbing forward, and tackled the Rak to the shingled roof. His blade pierced the creature through the chest, pinning it face-down to the roof below, while he landed in an easy crouch, boots in the small of its back. Malon stared, mouth open, as his powerful gloved hand grasped its wolfen skull by the muzzle and the back of its head and twisted abruptly; its neck snapped with a wet crunch. His red gaze quickly looked her up and down, searching for any wounds. "Are you okay?"

Malon stared at the Blackguard, eyes wide, and managed to gasp, "Yeah."

He nodded, straightening, and pulled his sword from the Rak's corpse. "We have to get to the tavern."

----

Link urgently rattled the tavern door knob. Turning to Kain, he shrugged and almost apologetically said, "It's locked," then kicked the door hard enough to rip it from its hinges and clatter on the floor within. Wincing at his vandalism, he thought I gotta get used to these gauntlets again, and hurried inside. "I don't like to steal," he amended, "but we may need more money than I've got. See what he's got stashed behind the counter. I'm gonna go upstairs, see if anything's left. Can you get the horses ready?"

"Yes."

The Hylian ran for their rooms while Kain rummaged behind the counter, finally finding a small pouch that jingled merrily. He glanced inside, observing quite a number of the glittering currency used in Hyrule; he did not know the particulars of their system, but this seemed to be sufficient.

As he pocketed the small purse Ren, Alva, and Roscin bustled through the door, supporting a heavily bleeding Karsof between them. The odd threesome half-dragged the older man through the room to heave him as gently as possible onto a small cluster of tables, eliciting an agonized moan from him. "How is he?" Kain asked.

"Not good," Roscin replied, pulling a swathe of bandages from a small bag he kept for the purpose at his belt. Grimacing, he began to wrap Karsof's thigh, which had been mangled by an enemy mace; it was obviously broken and bleeding heavily.

"Are the rest of you okay?" The three nodded. "Have you seen any of the others?"

"No," Alva sighed. She clamped one of the General's arms to the table as he bucked in pain. "Alexis's looking for them, right?"

He nodded. "Link's upstairs. Ren, Roscin, you have a handle on him?" The two looked up and grunted their replies, trying to hold the man down as he occasionally thrashed in pain. "Good. Alva, come help me with the horses. We aren't following the rest to the mountain."

Though obviously confused, she followed him out the door, trusting in his judgement, as Link hurriedly rushed into the room. "Goddesses, is he okay?"

Karsof spat through clenched teeth, "How the fuck does it look, boy? Bastard broke my damn leg!"

That just killed any hope of sympathy."Look, Roscin, you have to get him back with the others to Death Mountain, okay? We need you two to lead the resistance their while we go for support."

Soren, Malon, Dark Link, Zelda, and Impa crashed through the doorway, the last of which had to kick an overly aggressive possessed Hylian from the frame to get in. "Alexis told us what's going on," Zelda hurriedly explained. "Where're the horses?"

She seems to like him about as much as I do, Link sardonically mumbled to himself. "Kain and Alva're getting them ready, but we need someone to help Roscin get Karsof to the mountain and help with defense."

Impa nodded. "I'll do it."

"Malon, you're going up there, too."

She blanched, face growing red. "What?! I want to help!"

His face hardened; in this he was dead set. "You'll get yourself killed. They're gonna follow us, and they may already have some forces ahead of us. You'll be able to help out more with the Gorons, and you'll be able to train, get better."

She opened her mouth to rebuke, but snapped it shut, thinking back to her experience on the rooftops. Biting back her stubborness and her pride, she mumbled, "Yeah. You're right."

He blinked, surprised. Jeez. Didn't see that coming."Okay, good. Can you three get Karsof up with the rest?"

"Yeah, we'll get him up there. We'll be waiting for you guys, okay?" Malon affirmed. She and Roscin grasped Karsof under his arms, hoisting him up, while Impa apparently would stand guard. Without further ado the four left, Impa almost having to hack her way through a wall of flesh to accommodate her followers.

Once they had passed Alva stuck her head through the door and called, "Hey, come on, we've gotta go!"

-----

The odd six burst out of the stables, plowing their way as best they could across the flooded street and heading north; Zelda and Soren had each commandeered a lone horse in the stables, while Dark Link rode an odd, shadowy doppelganger of Epona he apparently could summon. Link lead, emerging on the other side of the crowded, thrashing street and galloping along a smaller abandoned crossroad toward the northern gates. "Ha," his shadow laughed, "that wasn't so hard, huh?"

"Don't celebrate just yet," Kain called out from behind them. "Something is--wait, many somethings--are breaking off from the rest and following. Fast. I think it knows what we're trying to do."

"You just had to say it, didn't you?" Link yelled over the clamor of hooves and battle to his shadow.

"It isn't my f--"

"Hey," Zelda cried, "stop bickering and focus! What are those things?"

"Loden," Kain replied. "Like squat wolves, but very fast and vicious. They try to startle prey--us, essentially--by howling; if they're right next to you they've been known to blow out eardrums."

Link thought back to his encounter in the forest and cursed. This won't be fun.

"Oh, yes it will," his shadow replied out loud.

"Look, what'd I say about staying out of my fu--"

"Link! Both of you! We have more serious things at hand right now, you know," Zelda barked. "How much farther, do you think?"

"I'm not sure, but not too long."

Kain looked over his shoulder. "I count eight. No, nine. Ten. More are joining them."

"Shit," Ren spat. "We have to loose them or kill them. More will follow after they're done with Kakariko."

"Oh, joy," Link mumbled. "Hurry! We can outrun them."

The group finally skidded to a halt at the barred gates, each stealing quick glances over their shoulders to check their pursuers' progress. Link hopped off of his horse and ran to the gates' splintered wooden faces, grunting with exertion as he tried to shove the heavy beam out of its cradle barring them shut. The wood groaned but held still.

He cursed, noticing the ragged heads of a dozen large nails, each at least half a foot long, that pinned the beam to the gates and barred them shut. Pulling out a small knife, he wormed its tip beneath a nail head and tried to pry it free, only managing to gouge out a sliver of wood and make the metal circle twitch. Glancing at the pursuing Loden, he cursed again; they did not have enough time to dislodge each nail. Screw it. If I can't take down the bar, I'll take down the whole damn thing.

Stowing his dagger, he reached into one of his larger space-warping pouches and impossibly pulled a large battle hammer from a pouch only six inches wide. Link hefted the hammer, glancing at its three-foot metal shaft and six-inch-wide, brutal head before surveying the thick wooden obstacle in their paths. If anything could get the job done, he knew it to be the Megaton Hammer.

"Here they come! Get the damn gate open!" Ren cried, leaping from his horse and readying himself to fight off a wave of Loden.

Link stepped several feet back from the gates, gauging the beam's thickness, and cocked the hammer back over one shoulder. With his face set in a concentrated grimace he ran forward, swinging mightily, and smashed the hammer's head dead in the beam's center. The gates leaped back from the sheer force of the blow with a distressed groan of strained wood, shaking in and out on loosened hinges; the beam itself cracked and flexed down the middle but otherwise stood firm. The jarring impact racked through Link's entire upper torso, making his arms tingle and his palms go numb. He grunted and stepped back again, heaving the hammer back for another strike.

Eyes set on the depressed crescent he had crushed into being on the splintered beam, he lunged forward again, putting all the force his weary body could muster into his swing.

A tremendous ripping crash of breaking wood heralded the bar's timely demise as it split down the middle amid a burst of splinters. The gates flew open, hanging on half-sheared hinges.

"There," he sighed tiredly, "it's open."

"Watch out!"

Link spun around, swinging horizontally at chest height. The broad head of the Megaton Hammer caught a pouncing Loden in the ribs, shattering its rib cage, snapping its spine and sending it flying into the wall. It collapsed with a whimper in a bloody heap.

His six companions were fighting off at least triple their number of Loden, apparently with more on the way. "Let's go!" he yelled urgently.

Finally! Took your sweet time, didn'tcha?

Shut up and go.

As he looked on Kain caught one unfortunate Loden by the throat mid-pounce, throwing it to the ground on its back and stomping on its skull, crushing it as easily as an eggshell. Link winced and repeated his call, gratefully observing the five begin to disengage from their respective opponents and mount their horses once again. Scrambling back atop Epona, he ensured that he was the last one out the gates, then repeated his trick with the bombs, dropping them as he sped off.

They emerged into the rolling, dry-grassed foothills of the mountain above and turned sharply to the southeast, riding as quickly as they dared. A trio of sharp crumps and a chorus of agonized howling rolled after them, beating ineffectively at their backs.

Link quickly sorted through the local geography mentally, trying to judge their best chance at escape. Kakariko's corpse loomed behind them to their west, while the rocky foothills of Death Mountain and the uncharted range beyond its peak blocked off the northern and eastern horizons; eventually the rocks would part in a narrow valley carved by the river that still flowed within its fertile banks, named for the Zora who lived at its source further within the valley. That was to be their destination. If we arc to the east, put some space between us and the army attacking Kakariko, we may be able to pass unnoticed. Straining to be heard over the pounding of hooves, he called out his idea to the others; within moments they all began to angle to the east.

He stole a quick glance over his shoulder. Kakariko seemed to have deflated in the black night; rather than proudly standing out against the intimidating hulk of the mountain, it seemed to be cowering to the ground, as though futilely trying to escape some terrible blow. The dark mass of Reval Keshan's forces spilled around the far edge, now tearing through both the west and south gates, while Link could just barely see the rippling tides of Hylians fleeing up Death Mountain's inhospitable slopes like ants up a massive anthill. Guilt and resentment burned within his heart; running away from a fight--abandoning fellow beings to their foe, to almost certain death--ground against the grain of his character. A dull ache actually throbbed within him, a manifestation of this cruel violation of spirit.

No. There has to be a way to help, dammit!

With a grimace of concentration he frantically searched for an idea--some way to at least partially assist those they were leaving behind. After several minutes he brightened and stiffened in the saddle. Divide and conquer!

"Wait! Stop!" Link hauled back on the reins, skidding to a halt. The others, confused and frustrated, slowed and wheeled their horses around, stopping before him.

"I told you--there is no choice!" Kain insisted. "Dying in battle won't help anyone."

"Hold on," he exclaimed breathlessly, "you guys have a vendetta with that thing, don't you? And vice versa?"

The Rass quickly replied, "Yes, what of it? We know it's strategies, we've hurt it, and we've frustrated it. It hates us."

"And you're tactically important, right? And all that stuff?" A nod. "So if we show ourselves it'll really, really wanna kill us, right?"

Understanding blossomed across the group. "You want to draw some of them off. Distract them."

Link nodded quickly. "If we can even get a few to follow us I can lead them straight into a deathtrap."

"A deathtrap?"

"Kokiri forest. There's a reason everyone avoids it; if the forest's guardian doesn't let you pass the less friendly occupants'll tear you to shreds in less than a day."

"Goddesses, Link, that's a good two days from here--at least!" Zelda interjected heatedly.

He shrugged, eyes fierce. "There's a way to loop through the forest and get to the Zoras. We can take it--takes a bit longer than normal, but it'll take out whoever follows us and keep the Zoras' location from them."

Ren broke out in a dark smile. "Fuck yeah! Let's hurt these bastards." Alva nodded beside him.

"You realize, Link," Kain warned, "that we could have a quarter of that thing following behind us. If we're caught we can't fend off five hundred troops."

"No risk, no reward," he replied tersely. "It'll buy the rest of Kakariko some time, at least."

The massive Rass deliberated solemnly; they all knew that he was Keshan's prime target out of all of them. It was he who would make or break their plot.

Solemnly he turned his mare to the west--to Kakariko. "Let's go."

-------

Link truly hated this choice four hours later.

You just had to do something, didn't you, dumbshit!

He ducked as another arrow whizzed past his ear just close enough for him to feel its cool gust of air; apparently Reval Keshan had confiscated the abandoned Hylian supplies.

See?! This is what you get for trying to help other people. Stick with yourself and you're good to go!

Shut up, dammit! I didn't think that a third of their fucking army would go for us!

A third? Look behind you, Mr. Hero. That's, like, eight, nine hundred ugly assholes behind us. I'd say more like half. Actually, I think that's even more than originally attacked Kak--

I get it, I get it! He dug his heels into Epona's sides, goading her to greater speed. Already the wind whipped his hair and cap into a frenzy and stung at his eyes. Four hours had passed since they had fled Kakariko; four long, long hours of ceaseless riding and evasion from the horde, whose newly formed cavalry--fifty strong--were only fifty yards behind them. The massive conglomerate's infantry had managed to remain in sight, perhaps a mile back, sprinting without any signs of fatigue even as the morning sun began to rise from the east.

Ya gotta give 'em credit, they're smart little bastards, taking those horses. I thought they were all just walking meatsacks with bad attitudes.

They didn't "take" the horses; Ren said they can form almost anything they want out of the, uh, absorbed flesh, or something. They made the damn brutes. Weren't you paying attention when they were explaining all that stuff?

Not really. I was doing more important things.

Really? He shook his head and snorted, glancing ahead. They hadn't yet encountered Zora's River, which would indicate their painful ride was at least mostly complete. Like what, exactly?

Enjoying Zelda's tight little Sheikah jumpsuit thingie. Can't hide much there, huh? Especially on such a cold day, ha, if you catch my drift--

Yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it--

--Of course, by that I meant that I could see her nip--

I said I get it, I don't want to hear how you're ogling my--He cut himself off mid-thought.

Your what?

Nothing. I just don't like you ogling her. She's my friend.

Friend? Bah! She's your girlfriend, your woman, your--

Bullshit!

--Your lover, your li'l lady, your hoochie-pie, your sugar baby, your--

Dammit, shut the fuck up--she's not my girlfriend--we have more important things to be thinking about!

--Your future wife, your future ex-wife--oh, move right, by the way--your--

Link hauled the reins to his right, gritting his teeth as yet another arrow tore the loose edge of his sleeve. Shut the fuck up and watch my back!

Forcing himself to ignore Dark Link's neverending stream of taunts and insinuations, he focused on the more pertinent tasks at hand. Thankfully the sun had forced the aggravating shadow to merge with that of Link and his horse; he was not sure if he would have been able to resist pummeling his darker twin.

"How much further?" Ren barked from a few yards ahead and to the left of Link's position. "The horses can't take much more, I think! We haven't stopped galloping in two hours, at least."

"They'll have to," he replied, " 'cuz we've got a ways to go. Once we cross the river we'll be close to the forest."

"Shit."

"Yeah, pretty much."

I don't want to hear such horrible fuckin' language in my presence!

Gee, I've never heard that one before. If you're gonna be aggravating, at least be original.

"I hope you're right, Link," Kain called out from a dozen feet ahead. "I can see the river, with what looks like a wooden bridge directly ahead."

"Great! Not much further, then." I hope. I haven't been around here for a few years, after all . . .

How's she in the sack? She'd probably bend your wimpy ass into a knot--

Shut up about her!

--And go all dominatrix on ya, you li'l submissive boytoy, you!

Now is not the time to talk 'bout this!He grunted in pain as an arrow punched into his sheild, leaving the metal intact but the flesh below sore. He twisted in the saddle, checking on their pursuers; they were only twenty yards behind. They'll be able to riddle us with holes before we can get out of here!

Glancing forward, he caught Soren's oddly shrouded gaze; his hood was up, as was his headwrap. Nothing of his face nor eyes could be seen. Still, the Blackguard nodded distinctly at him and turned, shouting something unintelligible to Kain--notifying him of their problem, in all likeliness--before hauling back violently on the reins. As Link stared in surprise he dropped sharply backward, falling in amongst their equestrian pursuers only twenty yards to their rear.

Is he insane?!

------

Surprise is a weapon.

Soren had learned long ago that oftentimes doing the exact opposite of what the enemy anticipated--logic be damned--was the best course of survival. This guided him now; he was all too aware that trying to outrun Reval Keshan's newly made cavalry was not viable, as they were all too easy of targets to be picked off by their horseback archers. That left close combat. If I can down one or two of them, they are so closely packed together that many more will fall. The fools should know better than to ride so close together in such great numbers.

Adrenaline pounding through his veins, he jerked the reins back, quickly slowing his horse. Within three seconds he had dropped away from the rest of the group and merged with the leading horsemen in pursuit, drawing into a small niche between two cavalry fighters and quickly assessing their threat. The riders themselves were fairly nondescript possessed Hylians, red-eyed and bloodied by battle, wielding chipped swords and long-suffering bows and quivers. Their mounts, however, were slightly more unusual; thin and stringy muscled, their bones were barely draped in flesh and stood out in sharp relief below the dark, hairless grey-black of their skin. Any sympathy he may have harbored for the animals disappeared when he observed their red eyes, glowing with dumb hatred; these were not captured horses but newly-sprouted beasts spawned from Reval Keshan's flesh. Only a yard or so separated the riders, foolishly, though they operated with the apparent hive mind inherent to their progenitor.

Speed is a weapon; hit fast, hard, then move before they can hope to retaliate. They cannot strike what is not there.

Wedging himself between two of the leading equestrians, he drew his sword; personally he preferred the twin daggers secreted on his forearms, but using them here would be counterproductive due to their short reach. Finally drawing neck and neck with their two horses, he glanced to his right, quickly noting the glassy look of surprise on the near-corpse's face. As its drawn bow began to swing away from its prey ahead and toward him--intolerable--he swung horizontally, aiming to decapitate. Luck was on the dead Hylian's side as both horse and rider flinched away, escaping a fast beheading but not evading injury altogether. Soren's sword easily chopped through the thin bow in its arms, rendering it impotent, and continued to cut deeply into the possessed man's shoulder, passing easily through flesh and bone alike.

As the archer and his ride shied further to the right, ruined bow and useless arm flopping as though dead, the Blackguard diverted his focus to the left; slowed by its shock, the other archer was only now drawing a bead on Soren's chest as its ride began to draw away. Hive mind; they all can think and move as one. They will try and set a trap or keep their distance and pick us off one by one. If one goes down, however, the others will trip . . .

Holding his position in the saddle tightly with his knees, he lunged left, careful not to lose his balance, and ripped the taut bow from the possessed corpse's hands. The arrow zipped harmlessly over his shoulder as the tension was released, the wood's vibrations stinging his palm. Holding it near one tip, Soren hooked the bow over its former owner's head and wrenched sharply to the right, jerking the archer off balance to flail, halfway in and halfway off of the saddle, in the growing space between the two horses. A sharp downward strike from his sword pommel expedited the corpse's painful descent; within seconds it was trampled beneath its comrades.

Quickly, down the horse and trip up those behind it--they will not hesitate to shoot--you have seconds--!

Flipping his sword from his right to left hand--long training had bestowed ambidexterity upon him--he slashed with surgical precision; brackish blood splashed as his blade chopped down just behind the horse's skull, hacking through vertebrae to sever its spinal cord, utterly paralyzing it below the neck. Despite its malevolent inception and composition a flicker of guilt flitted through Soren's mind; he had always been partial to animals, as the lizard curled up in a pouch beneath his outer robe in the small of his back would attest.

Still, counteracting his guilt was the carnal satisfaction of hearing the domino-esque crashing of his pursuers. The dead horse crumpled, flopping lifelessly in the dust, tripping its close comrade--who tripped another--who tripped another, and so on, until nearly half of the cavalry was bouncing bonelessly on the ground, victims of their own hive mentality.

The entire confrontation thus far had taken only ninety-five seconds.

However, the other attackers were as enraged as soulless meat-soldiers, as he had heard Dark Link describe them, apparently could be.

The maimed archer to his right appeared at his side once more, stabbing viciously at his throat with an arrow clenched tightly in its one good hand. Lacking the time to bring his sword across his chest to parry, he twisted to the side and snatched the offending wrist, a formidable feat considering the rough bouncing of both horses, and tugged it toward him as he had with the archer's late peer. His trick would not work twice, though; the other horse drew closer to his own, to the point where his and the Hylian's knees were brushing each other with a macabre intimacy.

Undeterred, Soren lifted the struggling Hylian's arm, exposing its torso, and expertly stabbed it through the gut, angling the blade up and behind its sternum to run its heart through. A brutal twist tore the vital organ into fragmented shreds of palpitating muscle, taking back the half-life Reval Keshan had imposed on the already dead man; without a sound the corpse slumped to the right and neatly fell out of the saddle. Its mount was quick to follow; though he did not look back the Blackguard heard the sounds of more falling cavalry behind it.

Another quick, calculating glance to the terrain ahead pleasantly surprised him; only a few hundred yards away lay the river and its rather thin, crooked wooden bridge. Perfect. A bottleneck. Eying the flimsy structure, his spirits rose further. It looks barely strong enough to carry us across, but if it does it will be easy to close behind us.

The rope bridge itself was a weathered, almost ancient construction, barely spanning the fifty-yard, quick-flowing Zora River below. Built only of warped, aged planks bound together with a mixture of rope and chains, it sagged between its four anchored support poles on each side of the river, its bottom only a bare foot from the chilled water below. Its narrow width looked barely capable of admitting three men standing abreast of each other.

Soren quickly wiped down his sword on the rough saddle blanket and sheathed it, leaning low over his horse's neck, and urged the already tired beast to its fastest pace yet. In a surprising show of individual and collective horsemanship the rest of his comrades had managed align themselves into a single-file column to attempt the crossing; he pulled just behind Link, last in line. His stunts with both archers had bought them precious time.

Here we go . . . Entrusting our lives to a bridge that appears older and even worse for wear than some of the corpses we have left behind us.

The paradoxical searingly freezing pain of a wound lanced through his lower back. He straightened abruptly, gritting his teeth in pain and stifling the impulse to cry out and grasp at the arrow protruding from his flesh, but did falter.

The drumming of hooves upon wood was tremendous as the aged bridge groaned in protest; built as it was, suspended on twin cables between two pairs of anchored posts on either side of the river, it shook, flexed, and swayed alarmingly in all directions. Within seconds the first quartet of hooves slammed once again onto safe earth. Now or never.

Only halfway across the bridge, he dug within the confines of his robes and emerged clutching one of his occupation's most useful devices. The oddly shaped contraption consisted of a squat, metal-and-barb-coated sphere affixed to a six-inch wooden handle, looking something like a squat, inefficient mace. As he drew closer to the opposite riverbank he grasped a small wire ring at the base of the handle and jerked it free; with a scratchy hiss the small fuse embedded within the handle flickered to life. Five seconds precisely . . .

Only one had passed before he drew up to the riverbank. As he passed through the pair of wooden supports Soren cocked his arm back and swung, hearing the reassuring splintery crunch as the barbed head sank into the rotted wood. He dug his heels into his mount's sides, urging it to greater speeds. Wood that rotted, on a bridge already strained with passing riders--it must work--

The entourage was a hundred and fifty yards ahead when the grenade detonated with a blinding flash and roar, converting the wooden post it was embedded in as well as its metal covering into thousands of minuscule pieces of shrapnel traveling at hundreds of miles an hour. Delayed by Soren's antics, the leading pursuer was only just passing onto the riverbank; when the smoking corpses of horse and rider slapped to the ground a dozen feet away they were lacking the entire right side of their bodies, only scorched stubs remaining of flesh and bone.

No longer suspended equally across four points, the bridge twisted violently in the direction of the destroyed support under the harsh strain of Reval Keshan's cavalry. The leading three horsemen were thrown violently into the near-freezing, astonishingly swift river along with their mounts, swept helplessly downstream like grains of sand blown before the wind. Their followers, unable to stop themselves, flew onto the bridge as well; their combined weight overwhelmed the sole surviving cable that upheld the already flimsy structure. With a sharp crack the line snapped and the bridge completely collapsed, dunking the riders in the water with their peers.

Stymied, the rest of the cavalry skidded to a halt at the riverbank, enragedly staring at the backs of their fleeing quarry. They, along with the rest of their infantry, would have to search for a safer crossing before taking up the chase once more.

-----

"Holy shit! What did you do to them?!" Ren exultantly crowed.

Once the river had sunk below the horizon they had let themselves slow to a relieved trot, not quite believing they had escaped. Soren tentatively probed at the source of the pain in his back; his fingers brushed the stiff shaft of an arrow, eliciting a pained flinch. "I took down the bridge," he calmly replied, biting back the pain from his voice. Still, he could not help but grunt in agony as he slid the wooden projectile from his flesh. His robes had partially deflected the arrow, depleting some of its momentum and shifting it to his left. It had sunk three inches into his flesh just below his ribs on the lower left section of his back; feeling hot blood begin to drip down the small of his back, he quickly and surreptitiously packed the wound with rags from his saddlebags. His position in the back of their group allowed him to work with near invisibility, as he preferred it.

"Hey, jeez, you're bleeding pretty good there--lemme take a look at it," he replied, slowing to come alongside the silent Blackguard.

"I am fine." After another moment he returned his focus to riding, determinedly ignoring the pain in his back and arm. "I was grazed. It will heal on its own time; I will check it further later." He fixed Ren with his hidden yet undeniably severe gaze; the latter inanely wondered, not for the first time, how he could see through the cloth covering his eyes.

"You sure?"

"Yes." His black robes seemed to twitch and shudder; Teik easily climbed from out of his pouch and perched safely on his shoulder.

With a look of bemused confusion on his face, Ren nodded and mumbled, "Okay, suit yourself. I guess your little lizard pal there will keep ya moving, huh?"

Though their horses were exhausted and the odd seven--eight, counting Alexis, safely ensconced within her gem--had all spent the majority of the last twenty-four hours fighting they did not stop; rather, they continued at a trot, sweeping to the east. Soon they came within sight of a green shade upon the horizon. Silently they proceeded toward the dubious protection of the massive Kokiri forest, home to creatures kind and malignant, beautiful and beastly, hospitable and fatal.

-------

Link grunted and let his legs go limp, plopping contentedly down in the soft grass. Good to be home. Again. Even in shitty times like this.

He and the rest had penetrated into the forest's outermost perimeter a bare hour before, just as the last diffusing rays of sunlight were disappearing from the sky. Trees of all shapes and statures gently seemed to screen them from the pains of the outside world; when he had been a child he had often sprawled in the grass, just as he did now, and stared upward into the leafy embrace of the trees overhead, pretending that his clearing was the only place left in the world. Now he once more gazed upward, admiring the way the trees seemed to sway and dance in the flickering light cast by their campfire. Death could not exist here. Sadness, rage, fear--all seemed too unholy to exist in a world as prodigiously blessed as to have these ancient saints gracing Hyrule's soil.

He sighed. If only.

Tiredly he began to unburden himself of his equipment, piling it close at hand around him and shivering in the frigid night air. The others settled much as he did around the fire's gracious light and choked warmth, bones weighed down with crushing fatigue. Alexis emerged in a flourish of magic from her diamond quarters, sitting sagely at Kain's right; Soren sat cross-legged a few yards to his left, instinctively positioned to best defend camp, fiddling with his new bandages across his back and arm. A fair distance from the fire Ren contentedly leaned cross-legged against a tree trunk, hands massaging his wife, who draped herself across his lap; Link glanced away with a crooked half-smile, leaving the two to each other. Dark Link leaned with an identical grin facing away from the flames, doing whatever twisted shadows did when tired. Yeah, screw you too. I am tired.

Still, a black mood fell across his mind; an endless parade of dead and mutilated corpses filed past his mind's eye, all dripping blood, all glaring mournfully into his soul. Link's smile died, face going blank as he drifted back into the shadowy mists of reflection. The tranquility he was so enjoying jarred his heart; what right did he have to sit in a bed of grass, surrounded by--he was surprised to think it--friends, warm and relatively safe while hundreds of his countrymen lay dead, desecrated, butchered at the battle he had fled?

What makes me so much different from everyone else? Had I been born elsewhere, not raised in these woods, would I be here? Would someone else have taken up the tasks I have had I run away from "destiny?" He sighed, eyes glimmering with the campfire's light. Surely, had Roscin, or Talon, or whoever been put in my place--surely they would have done the same. Anyone would have. Yet I am heralded as the "great Hero of Time" . . . The only thing that separates me from the rest of the people--from normal Hylians--is my damned "destiny." Divine intervention, perhaps. Being born in the right--no, the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet it's something I can never overcome. The three triangles softly glowing on the back of his hand proved that all too well.

What am I but the Goddess's tool? The sword they use to their own ends? I can't decide if it is a mark of honor or of the shackles that bind me to Fate's whims.

Link started as he felt a gentle touch upon his shoulder. Torn from his thoughts, his eyes darted upward, wide and somewhat glazed from his mental forays, to behold Zelda standing next to him. Softly she asked, "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Sure," he half-mumbled, still torn between the world of his mind and of that which surrounded him. Shrouded in a surprisingly soft blanket, she gracefully lowered herself to the grass beside him, gazing tiredly into the fire. She had removed her headwrap and returned her eyes to normal, he realized. Even her impressively maintained hair spilled free of its tightly coiled bun, falling regally to her mid-back.

A comfortable silence fell over the two as the fire's cavortations enraptured their eyes.

"You didn't run, you know."

Link flinched, surprised, and turned to regard her solemn features. "It's written all over your face, you know," she continued softly. "You did everything you could. You did more than anyone could have expected or hoped for."

He lowered his eyes. "It wasn't enough. That's what matters, in the end."

"Not quite." Her voice was gentle, reassuring. "You aren't a god. You're a man. We're all only Hylian. We gave it all we could; the odds were stacked against us. Don't blame yourself for the deaths of others. Without you even more would have fallen. Perhaps all of them."

Shaking his head, he replied, "I abandoned them when they needed me most."

"Sometimes you have to give some things up for the greater good, Link. You know that better than--"

"They aren't just things, Zelda," he cut her off sharply. "They are people. Friends. Not some commodity, some asset."

She recoiled slightly but persisted, "I know that. And so are all the other people throughout Hyrule." She sighed. "I hate fleeing as much as you. They are my people, too. My responsibility. But I have to think beyond Kakariko. You--we--could have stayed, done what we could to help the rest. Perhaps we would have saved a few. Perhaps a dozen. Perhaps more. But by going to the Zoras we are saving hundreds--even thousands--of lives, both by gaining aid and drawing off Reval Keshan's forces." Link shook his head slightly, resisting. "It hurts, but it has to be done. For everyone's sake."

He frowned but did not speak. With a sigh the Queen amended, "Still, what is done is done. There is no point in agonizing over the past."

Link gritted his teeth in anger--at himself, not at his companion. I still failed them. "I'm going to sleep," he grunted tersely. With a shiver he unrolled his bedding and slipped inside, lying on his back to gaze at the calming stars.

Zelda sighed once more. "Yeah," she mumbled to herself. "Me too."

Despite their fatigue, both tossed and turned for much of the night, both Hylians roiling in their own mental torment; he could not tear the images of the dead from his mind, while she could not tear the image of his face from hers, staring hopelessly into the flames, slowly, silently eaten from within.