Edited 6/8/16

Chapter 06 – Comrade

Music Suggestion: I Am Undone by Nitzer Ebb

"We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light."

― Plato

Link lifted his shield up to his chest, its face splattered with blood. There was still the desire to slam the shield over and over on the Hyrulean soldier, but he refrained. Not because he felt guilt, but more or less because he found no need to after the eleventh blow. The soldier, Colin, had been dead by the fourth hit. For a moment Link mused how fun it would have been if Colin had remained in his armor. It would have offered more of a challenge; however, blood was blood. His murderous urges were silent, for now.

He dropped the shield, its face clattered to the floor near the corpse's feet. Without a second glance to his latest victim he turned to reach for his blade on the floor. It too was stained with blood, but he didn't fret over wiping its blackened surface. Instead he found himself marveling at the sight.

"Link?"

Red eyes lifted from the blade and over to the door, "I'm busy." He spoke harshly, his positive act having been damaged by the sudden turn of events. It didn't bother him that he couldn't reply with a bit of politeness; however, if he wanted to continue acting like an innocent traveler then he would have to return to his act soon. He looked at the blade again, smiled. The façade could wait. Then again how was he supposed to hide the splattered mess that had taken refuge on the walls and floor? How was he supposed to explain why the youthful soldier was in his room with his brains turned to mush by a shield? Not to mention the smell that was already claiming the room as its abode. It smelt like fresh meat and rust.

There's always a fairy. He shook his head at that, wild strands of black fell into his gaze. Where was the fun in that? What was the point? The boy would probably remember, considering Link's luck. Taint him. Again he shook his head at his own thoughts, treated them as if they were a voice from someone who stood right next to him. "Goddesses no," he chuckled half-heartedly, mused over the very idea. Colin had too much will, too much maturity, and far too many years to be brainwashed. Those ten and under were easy to manipulate, but those over in their years were an entirely different story. There was always the option of manipulation by sexual conduct, but it wasn't as amusing.

The Triforce's power perhaps? No. He could barely control his mind let alone his own darkness. He'd only been able to control it once and that was when he first met the Hero of Time while being trapped in the Goddess forsaken chamber of never-ending water. Since then, the Goddesses had stripped him of that willpower and he had lost the majority of what was left long ago.

Threaten him with fear. Dark Link smiled sweetly, giggled to himself as if he had just shared a joke with his thoughts. Taint with fear? What a wonderful thought. Granted, it would be nice to hear of the turmoil that Hyrule and her people would receive after finding out one of their soldiers had been brutally murdered. Then again, perhaps this young soldier was no one special. No, he knew of Link. Yes, but anyone and everyone knew of the Link.

Dropping the shield to the floor, he turned to look through his clothes and adventuring gear on the dresser for his pouch. He rarely used the worn item and had forgotten that he owned such a thing. Sure enough as he crouched down to inspect his contents on the floor, his crimson eyes wandered over the belt that held the satchel by a strand of twine. He used it so rarely, but he always made sure to keep a bottled faerie handy. Even a murderous shadow had to be careful. He wasn't invincible after all.

The bottle was tucked away under a few green rupees that he had stolen from some poor man's pottery. Its cork top was small and short, he'd have to use his nails to get it off, and the bottle was barely the size of his fist. Withdrawing the small bottle from the satchel, the very item giving off a faint glow of pink from the little ball of light that was confined within, he brought it up to his eyes. The glow was very dim, but it wasn't entirely surprising. He had "collected" the fairy long ago so it was understandable to see the light of the creature dwindling. If he didn't use the faerie soon or free it then it would most likely die within its glass prison.

Laughing internally at the convenience of having the faerie on hand, he turned to the blond headed corpse. A part of him desired to add more blood to the scene, but again he refrained. He needed a protégé anyways, willing or not, and so he stuck his nails into that stubby cork and freed the faerie. The faerie, having been trapped within the bottle for years, flew straight out and away in hopes to flee—duties forgotten. However, its escape was caught short when Link snatched it from the air by its silvery, silky wings. It gave a whisper of a scream, something similar to pages in a book being turned over by the wind.

Fairies healed wounds that harmed the body. Though the soldier was dead, he had only been so for a short time. His internals were still fresh and he was still untouched by decay. Although fairies healed wounds, they also healed failed internals. They healed stopped hearts and, if they were strong enough, dead souls. However, the process was tedious and long. If the faerie did not perform the magic correctly then the wounded would become broken—undead or suffer from internal damage. The idea of having an undead soldier following him around was indeed interesting, but he preferred the boy as he was before his head had gotten bashed in by a shield.

He released the faerie by Colin's broken head. His fingers tingled with the faerie's dust as he watched it fall like a feather to the soldier's lap. Its light was weaker than before and perhaps weakening still. Clearly the plan would not work.

Maybe he had a bottle of Red Potion? He mused at the very thought. If he did then the bottle was likely just as old and useless as the faerie. Nevertheless, he took a gander at his pouch as he hummed a sporadic tune. It was entirely disturbing for another if they had witnessed the scene. It was even more disturbing when he gave a chuckle at his findings and dug out not one but two small, glass bottles from the pouch. As he had guessed, the bottles were dusty and the reddish substance inside was thick with age and fermented. When had he gotten these? Link shrugged. It didn't matter.

Uncorking both bottles, the very objects easily fitted into one palm due to their size, he grabbed the broken head of the young man by his bloodied hair and pulled him upward. Jerking the neck back, he set the first lip of the bottle against the Colin's mouth. It took a moment for the liquid to start dripping in and he partly wondered if he should shake them up. However he kept at it, waited patiently even when the second bottle's innards were thicker than the last. Thicker than molasses it seemed.

When the last bit of potion dropped into death, Link pulled back and allowed the corpse to crumple onto the floor. For a moment he stood there, watching, but nothing happened. Not surprising. It could take a while, perhaps a day or two. Definitely longer than a faerie's aid would take. Still he stood and stared as if the carcass was the most interesting thing in the world and to him… perhaps it was.

What is it like to be dead?

The heroic Link brushed a free hand through dirty, blond hair, his other tangled up in the reins of his trusted steed. From atop her back he could see the white hairs that littered her face. Epona was getting rather old, but she was just as quick and just as intelligent as she was during his first ever journey. If anything, she had gotten faster. It took not but ten minutes to reach the village of Kakariko, but entering through the village's broken gate was a different story. At some point, still fuming about the words between Zelda and himself, he had went from the castle to the closed off village's gates where he had been standing for a good while.

Though the ride was brief, he had wondered… what could he do? Zelda had clearly not told him much. Surely there was more information then what she gave, but what if there wasn't? What if he couldn't do anything? What if another village—his village—fell under the same fate, death?

Ordon covered in blood…

It drove him to the edge, the hair at the base of his neck stood on end. The very thought conjured up his wild imagination, the paranoia of a man who had already gone through a lot in his life. He could picture it all with sickening ease.

I won't allow that to happen.

Easier said than done.

Vehemently he shook his head, startling his steed at the abrupt movement as he urged her forward. There's no way he'd allow that to happen. No way. Not even if the Goddesses themselves wished it. He'd damn them all.

His determination was short lived as he and his partner in crime strode through the gates, his nose was assaulted with the stench of blood and something else… something… dead. It was so strong, so noisome, that he had to pull at the reins and try to get in a fresher breath. Dear Farore, the stench was disgusting. Worse than the Bokoblins after they were left for dead, festering in the hot Hyrulean sun and that was saying something.

Forcing air into his lungs wasn't successful. Each breath brought in the hot, decayed stench of aged meat into his chest. He could taste it now and that very realization made him want to vomit. The Hero covered his mouth, but even the gesture did little to mask the scent. Still, he stuck with it and urged Epona to move once more.

The sight was even worse than the stench. Kakariko itself was a fairly sized village with huts aligning the main road and even further up on the higher levels of the canyon. From where Epona stopped, he could see the spring of Eldin as well as the mountain of corpses beside it. The pile was beating the height of the shaman's—Renado's—abode and appeared to be still growing as the soldiers at the base of it added another carcass to the masses. The twisted limbs, silent faces, and splattered blood that made the mountain… no… monument of bodies made his stomach twist into knots. The blood. He eyed it warily, noted that even from here he could see it tainting the sands underneath all of the death.

"Master Link?" The hero looked away rapidly, glad for the distraction. A soldier sided Epona, his height barely reached the horse's head. "Did the princess send you, sir," he tilted his head, lifted the visor up from his helmet. Link had to squint at him to get a proper view, the man's armor glinted brightly from the hot sun.

"I came on my own accord," said Link.

The soldier nodded, "I see. Well, we could use another pair of hands and a fresh set of eyes. We are all a little depressed after having to round up the bodies. It's…" he sighed, clasped his hands together. Link nodded, blue gaze settled over those gloved hands that were caked with blood. "It's just awful, sir. The spring isn't clear anymore. It looks like Red Potion now with all of the… fluids. The stench is awful, the Kakariko cemetery is too small for all of our fellow Hyruleans, and all we know is that the weapon of choice was a blade of some sort."

"You may have to settle with burning the bodies."

"I would like to not do so, sir, but it seems we may have to. We're currently waiting for a decision from the Royal Family as nothing has come up from our investigation."

"May I have a look around?"

The soldier nodded, "By all means. As I said, good pair of hands and a fresh set of eyes are welcome."

At his words Link dismounted Epona, "Then please continue your duties. If I find anything useful I will surely find you… Mister…"

"Giovanni," the soldier nodded once more before he turned his back to the hero, "I hope you find something. It'd be nice to have more than just the suspicion of what type of weapon was used."

Link watched him go, running off to the mountain of bodies to aid his fellow men. At the sight of the mass of death Link averted his gaze and looked at the huts instead. Perhaps if he found where the massacre started? Then again how helpful would that be?

Eldin could help me, he thought but shook his head visibly. Giovanni had told him that the spring was tainted with blood. Surely that would influence the spirit negatively? The springs were always crystal clear and clean… surely- It wouldn't hurt. True, but he would have to go up to the deceased. But if I can get the spirit to help me out… That small bit of hope clung to him like a frightened child.

Walking to the rest of the Hyrulean soldiers wasn't an issue. He kept his eyes downcast as he trudged down the path that he had wandered down so long ago, when the village had needed a Hero during Twilight. As he walked, he would see a spot of blood, a scrap of clothing, or an appendage. The very sight, though smaller in comparison to what lied ahead, bothered him. He'd seen death and gore before, but this was different. It was a whole different level of death. Those that had died were people he had learned to love and cherish. These people, this village, had helped him through so much and even more so in his journey.

It felt longer than a minute until he reached the spring. His boots stopped at its edge, gaze falling to a sort of tunnel vision as the smell nearly suffocated him. Again he covered his mouth before stepping into the spring.

Like so many times before, he felt the slight tingling sensation of warmth and softness flood over his senses; however, the feeling was vague and it felt more like something was scratching him or like a bug was climbing up his trousers. "Eldin," he whispered the name, wondered if he would sound silly to the soldiers at his back if they overheard him call for the spring's spirit so casually.

No response.

It wasn't unexpected but it still placed a frown on his lips. The frown descended further when he stared at the rippling, red water. Eldin was here, he was sure of it, but how to contact the light? It would be awkward to talk aloud. Surely the spirit could hear its name being whispered? The next option was to… was to… he scrunched up his nose at the very thought.

Drink it.

No way would he succumb to that.

Drink. It.

He winced, and the thought forcibly came back just as quickly as he had shook it away. Was that thought even his own? Perhaps but was it possi—

Drink it. Let the red waters run.

The Hero's face morphed into disgust as he crouched down, his knees and lower legs soaked and reddened by the spring. All the while the thought echoed, became something like his conscience as it chanted about drinking bloodied water and letting it run. In truth it scared the living daylights out of him. Was this a darkness trying to manipulate him or was it Eldin trying to communicate? That made him pause.

"What?" His eyes widened as his hand unwillingly fell to the depths of the water, his body slowly becoming unresponsive. No, no, he wanted to stop. There's no way he would drink blood. Nevertheless, even as he struggled, his hand steadily came up with a palm filled to the brim with water. Without consent his mouth opened wide and his hand leveled up to his lips. The only thing that he did have control over was his eyes of which he closed tight.

Let the red waters run, Hero.

"Hero, the peace is descending, shadows are darkening, the blood is thickening. Souls are suffocating. Slowly but surely, everything is ending. Everything is rotting, falling, and dying. This world is not fit for two ascending. One must die and the other be living… but one cannot live while the other is descending. It's the soul that needs mending, but the darkness isn't worth saving. It's far too lost with independent thinking."

"It will surely paint Hyrule with blood… not even light… not even light…"