Chapter six: Diving
Dear Hylia, I take everything back. Magic is diabolic.
Link knew it was more luck than skill that kept his head on his shoulders when he rolled over his shoulder and scrambled to his feet, the eyeless mask of the guardian so close that he could see the tiny cracks in the fictile surface. The droning in his ears almost drowned any other noise; it felt like a swarm of bees in his head, and he sensed that it was a call to other guardians.
Ghirahim's shield of candent magic shattered like clay under a single hit of a scythe, and he stumbled backwards, pressing a hand to his head. Whatever Link heard in that ghostly screaming, the sword spirit obviously felt it even graver.
Worse yet, his magic failed him.
Either the guardians were immune to it, or Ghirahim's powers were reduced in the Silent Realm. As Link glanced at his face, he realized that Ghirahim himself didn't know the reason; he fought despite himself.
The guardian that had spotted them attacked with something akin to patience, as if it sensed that it was merely a question of short time until the intruder could not parry anymore. Even as it slashed at Ghirahim, its mask turned towards Link, the round holes giving off the impression of a dull gawk.
Another guardian floated over, taking up the ghostly scream. Although it could have easily attacked Ghirahim's back, it immediately chose Link, its coat wafting in movement. If he had to make a guess, it seemed like the guardian took in smells with that cloth, it needed motion to sense them.
He ducked just in time to escape a claw swipe – if only Ghirahim would stop his useless fighting, not like Link could escape the Silent Realm without him anyway…
More vigorous attacks forced him to retreat, putting more space between him and Ghirahim. Link knew he was inevitably getting closer to the Temple, but at the same time, more guardians drew near, and it was merely a matter of time until he was cornered. He had to break Ghirahim out of his stupor, even when he had no idea where it came from.
The ground seemed to vibrate with the steps of the guardians, even if they never touched it. Link glanced down and realized that he was trembling: not the uncontrollable shaking of fear, although he felt that fear clog up his lungs. The trembling was heavy and weighed down his limbs.
The guardians didn't need a refined technique to catch him – sooner or later, he would be too slow.
Another one, with his mask scarred and cracked. More claws. Link saw his own reflection in the deadly steel, and for a heartbeat, his face seemed twisted, torn…
"S-sssave me already!"
His voice was a chocked hiss, half drowned by something in that never-ending scream of the Silent Realm – Link thought it sounded like a shrill laugh. His vision performed a dangerous reeling, and all reason left his mind.
/
The next thing Link sensed was an impossibly smooth floor in his back and weight on his chest. Everything was solid, he was still breathing, and bless Hylia, that was all he wanted right now.
His body was numb, as if every muscle had fallen asleep – and when he twitched, those muscles began to wake up, sending an unpleasant prickling through every fiber.
Magic again. Blasted invention of people overextended with everyday life.
Link waited for his body to crawl back to serviceability while his brain moved equally sluggish. He remembered the feeling of having a few angry bees in his head, and these screeching sounds. He didn't hear them now. Nice. He was pleasantly sleepy and blinked a few times as the weight on his chest shifted and lessened. Nice as well. Link closed his eyes for a long moment and only opened them an inch afterwards. The ceiling was bright and high, only marred by two dots of brown. Ah, no, those were eyes, mixed with violet and silvery hair. Ghirahim – he supposed that was nice, too. He looked smaller without his cloak, and the way he brushed hair from his face reminded Link of a cat grooming its fur.
"'Tis pretty." His words slurred, and he didn't know why he had spoken. It felt necessary to express this. "Your ear."
It was round and small, unlike Link's own and unlike any he'd ever seen. Almost shaped like an apricot and usually hidden behind hair. The lobe was slightly frayed, as if something had been ripped from the flesh and healed badly. Link thought it was cute, nonetheless or maybe actually because of that.
He imagined a glimpse of something unguarded before Ghirahim scowled and backhanded him. Hard.
"You might know we have no time for chit-chat – get up already, they're sure to find us soon. By the depths, one could assume you'd gradually get used to magic…"
Link's mind cleared abruptly as pain stung in his cheek and brought his memory along. The guardians, the copy of Ordon, the screaming. Both the sound and the ghosts were gone, but no feeling of safety crept in. Link sat up and rubbed his cheek, glancing around. It was a gallery of marble, cool and polished with Ghirahim's voice echoing dully. He didn't recognize this place.
"Where are we?"
Ghirahim crossed his arms where his white clothing left a rhombic gap. The patch of skin was usually covered by the coat – now that he had taken it off, Link noticed that there were quite a few gaps one would want… dressed. Despite the fact that Ghirahim wasn't easily destructed, was this already considered clothing? It looked like a suit where someone had punched out a horizontal strap and then makeshift sewed the remaining fabric back together. It looked rather… provocative.
"I don't know." Ghirahim seemed oblivious to Link's incredulous stare. "Not far from the guardians, I suppose. Just far enough for them to lose the track… for now."
Link ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the coat spread over his lower body like a blanket. It felt heavy and warm, the inscrutable symbols embroidered on it seemed more like a harmless decoration. As he moved to push it off (tucking him in as if he was a sick child, what had gone wrong if a demon treated him like this?!), Ghirahim knelt down to stop him. From this close, he seemed tense, his sharp cheekbones more prominent than usual. Link suspected he was growing weary; not at rapid speed, but the Silent Realm took its toll, magic slowly oozing out.
'The Silent Realm… only accepts demons.'
"It will help to cover your smell. They sense mortality. Your blood sings to them."
A hoarse trace made Link shiver. Did Ghirahim really refer to the guardians with his last statement? Perhaps not entirely.
And that was not even all.
"You thought they could hear us." The edge of anger flashed in his voice. "Why didn't you warn me?"
"The guardians react to sound. They don't strike for no reason." Though Ghirahim seemed just as irked by his misjudgment, Link supposed he sought refuge in attack. It was to be expected from someone like him, but for Link, it only spurred his indignation. "Obviously not. Is there anything else you're considering surefire?"
Ghirahim ignored his sarcasm, even though his silvery eyebrows created a tiny wrinkle. "Stay away from the Waking Water. It calls the guardians."
"Tenuous water?" Link didn't try to cover the scoff. "Even if you are right – which I doubt – what the hell prevented you from warning me before we were running the gauntlet?!"
Ghirahim's brown eyes glinted warningly. "It was not my place to tell."
Link felt his lips peel from his teeth as he leaned forward, rage surging through him like heat. "Don't fuck with me! You do this on purpose – you let me run into open knives because you know that every time I need your help, you can force me a little more into your bloody master-role. After all, you're indestructible! You don't need to give a shit!"
"Do I need to remind you that this was your brilliant idea?" Ghirahim's glimpse of weariness had faded in favor of simmering aggression. The mere thought of him being a servant would be hilarious, if he hadn't been so dangerous in his decisions. "I would have never brought you here if you hadn't insisted."
"No." Link pushed to his feet. Thankfully, his body had overcome the aftereffects of magic, and he gained a firm stand. "You gain something from it."
It was no question, and Ghirahim didn't deny it. The fact that he didn't stand up the second Link did was as close to a confession as it would get since he allowed a human to tower above him. Link had thought that if he didn't expect anything from the spirit, he could not be disappointed, but still there was a nasty little sting in the back of his skull.
Yes, Your Grace, I knew you told me so.
"The natural order of the Silent Realm was abolished. The moment we entered, I sensed it. I just… could not believe anyone could secure such great changes."
The tiny hesitation and the fact that Ghirahim knelt instead of facing him on eye-level told Link it was an apology – crumpled, twisted and tacit about all the other accusations. Admitting that he had been wrong was far from saying that he was sorry, but it reminded Link on the look of disbelieving stiffness.
He sighed and snatched the discarded coat off the ground to throw it over his shoulders. The smell of resin mixed with a whiff of incense, a scent that seemed to belong neither to the Silent Realm nor to the fabric.
"I think I know where we are." The coat felt heavy and vexed Link with the panels of cloth hanging from it instead of a straight seam; still, he was somewhat relieved when Ghirahim fluently got up and agreed silently to the unspoken announcement to discuss everything else later. Link wondered whether the spirit had expected something different. Kneeling seemed like… a servant waiting for a blow at his face.
"This is a part of the Temple, if I had to make a guess, we're somewhere near the chambers of the Spirit Maidens." His own voice calmed Link as he mapped out his thoughts. Ghirahim put his hands to his hips where he wore a broad yellow belt with a massive clasp encrusted with reddish amber. Obviously, he had swallowed a snide remark about the décor.
"I've never been here." Just like the vast majority of all the male inhabitants of Hyrule. Link raised his eyebrows. "Why did you choose this place?"
"I didn't." Ghirahim ran his tongue along his lower lip, this time distracting Link on purpose since there was another blunder to be discovered. "I can only teleport to places I have been before. Unfortunately and due to the changes, my magic has been acting slightly volatile."
Link did not wish to know what exactly 'volatile' meant in this context. Instead, he chose to be glad they hadn't been thrown into a cesspit or else.
If he remembered correctly, the fire had broken out somewhere here, so this mistake had saved them a bit of way. Link was even willing to think it was the Goddess' work to interfere with Ghirahim's magic, as long as that didn't mean they couldn't leave unscathed. Still, it felt almost indecent to walk here…
"Does the Silent Realm adapt to reality?", he asked Ghirahim as they proceeded carefully down the corridor. He couldn't get used to the fact that the Temple existed – or might crumble under their feet as the Silent Realm caught up to the present.
"I daresay it is the other way round." Ghirahim gave him a sparkish smirk. "Aside from certain places that are considered sacred and therefore remain unaffected, this world is the same as yours. The Silent Realm is no sanctuary of your petty goddess, so this temple should be destroyed."
"Someone preserved it?" Things like strawberries and onions got preserved, not… temples. Or it was his nerves getting the better of him.
"Apparently."
"The guardians don't care?" Link for his part would mind it if someone manipulated the world he patrolled so steadily under his feet.
"They do." Ghirahim passed a door that was carved into a stunning imitation of a tree's furrowed bark without so much as a glance. "Which means they underwent a change as well. Nobody is powerful enough to accomplish that without help."
"Nobody practices magic anymore." Link thought of the Sheikah; they had withdrawn from the temples before his birth, and their powers were heavily doubted by now. Though this could well all be strategy, they hadn't fought those rumors and secluded themselves. By now, their descendants seemed to have lost great parts of their culture.
"For once, I didn't speak of active help. A special artifact is required to conquer the Silent Realm."
"You do remember that the crypt was full of artifacts that were somehow special, right?", Link retorted dryly – and halted.
Ghirahim returned his gaze with an annoying expression of Told you so. "Do tell, master."
"That means nothing," he shot back. "That place was full of trash and trinkets!"
"Ah, really?"
Link drew a sharp breath as Ghirahim's arm suddenly lashed out and flung him against the wall so hard that he stumbled, feeling the cool marble in his back and a throbbing in his right shoulder even though the cloak had cushioned the bounce. For all his staginess – Ghirahim was a brute to the core.
Which would be less pesky if he wasn't so damn fast.
"You refer to me as 'trash'?" Ghirahim's long fingers barred his throat, not pressing at his windpipe yet, but almost gently brushing his larynx as a quiet order to stay exactly where he was. Link swallowed and immediately tensed as his body reacted with nauseating alarm. He had never been so desperate for a weapon until this creature had invaded his life.
As he stared into Ghirahim's eyes, he had the odd feeling that this constant challenging would not stop. Ghirahim was a warrior, and what mattered to him was whether someone was stronger or weaker than him. Link wouldn't do him the favor of handing over the reins.
"If anything in the crypt had been dangerous, they wouldn't have stored it so carelessly", he croaked and tried to push Ghirahim's hand from his throat. The demon spirit caught his arm and pressed Link's palm against his chest where his clothing diverged. His skin bore the unmistakable hardness of muscle beneath it, and his heart beat strong and fast. Link was taken aback so discover that Ghirahim had neither nipples nor a navel; obviously a sign of his artificial creation. Only that he didn't feel artificial, and Link was startled at the vivid echo of his own body. Lewd curiosity was the least recommendable emotion now and every time concerning this… thing.
"It has come to my attention that the fiercer humans ban something from their minds, the more they forget…" Ghirahim purred and ran his index finger along the fluttering vein on Link's throat. "You, who is my wisdom and my striving, would swear that your, well, conspecifics weren't simply unable to recognize something capable of magic?"
Link fought to keep breathing through his nose and failed, opening his mouth slightly. The coat was much too warm, causing him to sweat even when he was dully aware that any kind of smell was dangerous with the guardians around. Or it wasn't the coat at fault.
He knew Ghirahim had a point; though Zelda had briefly seen Ghirahim, she hadn't given any indication of alarm and she hadn't bothered to examine the bundle. She was young, so maybe she lacked experience, and they hadn't seen each other for months, so Link supposed she had indeed been distracted…
But Spirit Maidens were representatives of the Goddess, the holy chosen who heard her will. They could not lose their special sense because of distraction.
Ghirahim acknowledged Link's silence with a smooth smile and leaned in, brushing his lips against the soft skin beneath his right eye near his cheekbone. Brown pools now were so close that Link could distinguish the different shades and tiny specks of dark and light color, like the grain of old wood.
The last time Ghirahim had come so close, it had summoned a surge of panic and turned him into his sword form. It hadn't happened yet, not even while facing the guardians. Perhaps the Silent Realm blocked the transformation. To be honest, it sounded like an excellent explanation.
An excuse, you mean.
"You… could recognize magic, then?"
His voice had become low, a few strands of Ghirahim's silvery hair shivered slightly in his breath. But he hadn't stuttered or looked away yet.
"I pride myself on that." Ghirahim sounded faintly amused and somewhat absent-minded, like a person speaking and at the same time trying to watch what happened in the heated argument across the street. Link slowly pushed the lapel of the coat aside to free his arm.
"So you would have noticed if there…" His voice grew thin for a second when Ghirahim's fingers drifted a little towards the collar of his shirt, though the tips still kept a contact to his vulnerable throat. "… had been others, yes?"
"Where?" Ghirahim didn't bother to sound attentive as he let go of Link's hand and instead slipped it under the heavy chain that secured the cloak. He didn't unhook it, but he seemed to know exactly how to smuggle his gloved fingers underneath the fabric until they reached Link's tunic.
"In the crypt. You would have… known."
The last word left his lips in a daze. His hand opened a little.
"So it would seem." Ghirahim lowered his head to run the tip of his tongue over Link's Adam's apple, a caress that wasn't nearly as wet as he had expected and still made him flinch. As he felt his voice catch in his throat, Link decided that it was now or an ungraceful later. Wrenching the demon's fingers from his neck, he spluttered: "So it's somewhere else, and stop your groping! Is that common among you kooks?!"
He found that he had sounded appropriately indignant, and Ghirahim let him go without protest. It might have been impressive if there hadn't been that nasty satisfied smile, tinted with hunger. Ghirahim took a step back and crossed his arms, his tongue moving behind his lips. "We greatly value groping. It's one of our favorite occupations. We even hold contests, and you get decorated with a medal for the best groping."
Link huffed dryly. "My ass."
"That's what I was talking about, sooner or later."
"Your sense of humor is uncalled for." To be honest, Link had expected him to be at least a bit offended. Then again, Ghirahim hardly seemed to take rejections personal, and he had to admit he hadn't always been adamant at refusing him. He inconspicuously checked whether anything in his clothing was loose and cleared his throat, hoping the warmth would leave his cheeks soon.
"If the Temple exists, could you search for traces of magic? That artifact you mentioned could be the reason for the attack."
And we could already have found it if it weren't for random hanky-panky, yes?
Ghirahim shrugged, astonishingly nonchalant when he had been completely different a few moments ago. Maybe he did tease out of boredom. "My magic is unstable, but something so powerful cannot slip by. If you insist, we will lap around."
Link straightened. "How much time do we have?"
Ghirahim seemed to know what he meant. "An hour before it could turn troublesome to perform another translocation."
That meant more things would remain unspoken for now.
"Off we go."
/
Link worried about more guardians on the way, but they didn't encounter any – like they avoided entering the Temple. He didn't need Ghirahim's estimation to know that successfully protecting a place was not achieved by leaving out large buildings. Something was brewing, and with any luck, they'd be gone before sampling what it was.
The Silent Realm presented the hallowed halls in a ghostly light and absolute silence. It could have been a solemn experience, had it not felt so surreal. Link sensed something just out of reach of his perception, vague fragments of a thing he could not even place. Was it a sound, a smell, a sight? It was impossible to tell.
They entered a round chamber that he supposed was a sanctuary subject to the Spirit Maidens: the reliefs of women were faceless, the stucco on the ceiling artfully held webs of silk. The material was so delicate that it moved in the slight draft like a fogbank, and Link stared up into the wafting white.
"Do you… feel that?"
Ghirahim regarded the chamber with open disdain. "Disgust, you mean? Plenty."
That remark was a sacrilege in the heart of Hylia's temple, but it was useless to argue, and they lacked time. Link shook his head and tried to dispel his fear of the guardians to concentrate harder. The more he tried to grasp that something, the less he could tell what it was.
"It's elusive." He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I don't know if we're getting closer."
Ghirahim didn't seem to find much promise in that, but his left hand disappeared behind his hair to rub at his ear, as if the shape could generate different hearing. Since he had arms with the hardness of steel, it wasn't even unthinkable.
Link stepped farther into the chamber. It was located deep in the Temple and therefore had no windows, and yet it wasn't dark. The Silent Realm colored everything in its cold, moonstone-tinged light, making it impossible to esteem the passing of time. At least they could continue without the glow of Ghirahim's magic, which seemed to draw the guardians near.
Fiddling with the clasp of the coat, Link approached the wall opposite to the door. Aside from slim mats and a stone basin, the chamber was empty: the mats probably were meant as moderate cushions for the Spirit Maidens to kneel, and the basin reminded him unpleasantly on the one he had crashed into when he had discovered Ghirahim's resting place. This one was made from wood as well and contained faintly fluorescent water. Link felt nothing when he touched the smooth edge, and at the same time he was so sure he felt it.
"A sight to behold."
It seemed like Ghirahim had overcome his dislike for this room – but when Link looked up, he found the spirit gazing at him with clear enjoyment. The openness of his intention was almost intimidating, and the fact that he wasn't human was much more confusing than his gender. Again, Link fought to meet his eyes and pretend he hadn't noticed. "Did you find anything?"
Ghirahim smiled calmly.
"I utterly rejoice in my master bearing my mark."
He sounded so honest that it irritated Link even more. He gave a harsh grunt and took the cloak off, tossing it over. Ghirahim didn't catch it, allowing it to land at his feet. "Will you get your head down?! We're running out of time, and you…"
The distant expression indicated that Ghirahim didn't listen, and for once, Link wasn't sure whether it was intentional. Maybe the spirit had concealed his weakening a lot better than he had imagined.
That was when Link sensed it. His hands gripped the round seam of the basin as he searched for the echo of that something that kept taunting him…
Ghirahim lifted his head, his eyes sharpening to an aggressive poignancy again. With a quick jerk of his head, he freed his round ear, listening.
Yes, it was sound. The Silent Realm gave a sound, and he had to find it. Without giving it any thought, Link took a deep breath and lowered his head, dunking it into the basin.
The Waking Water welcomed him.
/
It was the music of a harp, and it was beautiful. It was so beautiful that it plucked his heartstrings in every sense of the word. So beautiful that it moved him to tears, and he lifted his hands to wipe his wet cheeks.
That was when he realized that he was the one playing, and he cried in gratitude.
'I told you, you have no musician's hands, shard.'
The voice sounded almost amused, and as Link's hands stilled, the music sang on in his ears, so much richer and softer than the faint echo he had heard before. When, he did not know. He was floating, and his body felt weightless.
'Thank you.' His own voice was hoarse with awe. He felt warm wood beneath his fingers, and the harp nestled to his trembling hands like a child.
'I will not contemn your tears.'
'You will send me away.' His throat was tight, as if he had never realized anything so horrible. The harp hummed gently as he cradled it against his chest.
'You have yet to seize my gift, shard.'
The music began to fade, kindly rocking him, taking him away. There was nothing he could do, and Link let himself drift with an odd feeling of assurance. 'Will I see you again?'
'You have yet to see', it repeated.
/
Link lurched up and panted for air. His lungs worked until he wheezed and his consciousness began to reel, and he realized that the air smelled like forest and earth. The light was so bright he had to squeeze his eyes shut, and his erratic breathing slowed a bit.
The Silent Realm was gone. The Lost Woods had returned. For a moment, he sank back into the grass and melted his trembling body into solid, moist ground. A trace of harp tones caressed him before fading into his memory.
"I'll… never talk you into getting me there again." Link cleared his throat and sighed. His muscles were numb and he had a cramp somewhere in his back, his body stating that it didn't approve of all that magic. Link heartily agreed.
"Demon?"
Ghirahim didn't answer.
Blinking into the afternoon sun, Link sat up and looked around. Had they been separated? Ghirahim had warned him that this could happen, and he had been clear about the unpleasantries. Link didn't remember how he had left the Silent Realm – what if that voice had brought him away, and Ghirahim didn't know? He'd be left surrounded by guardians, sooner or later running out of magic.
Link struggled to his feet. The horse was where they had left it, eyeing him nervously. That at least was a good sign for Ghirahim somewhere close by. "Are you here?"
"What an… immensely ridiculous question."
The words were barely a hiss, squeezed through teeth that hardly moved. Link spun around and steadied himself on a tree trunk. He couldn't see the spirit, but it had sounded close. "Are you alright?"
This time, a few seconds passed.
"Purely."
Ghirahim appeared between the trees, his cloak loosely thrown around his shoulders. He clenched his right arm against his chest, the muscles of his jaw working as his other arm held it still. The long glove hid the skin from sight, though the outline seemed unharmed.
"What's with you?" Link reached for his arm, but a hostile glare stopped him. Whatever burdened Ghirahim, it didn't change his demeanor and his attitude towards help.
Link frowned. "You want to insist you're fine? I thought I had said something about obvious lies." He halted and added shyly: "Glad you made it in one piece."
It didn't cause Ghirahim to relax, yet his majestic rebuff softened a little as he shifted the arm cradled to his chest.
"Cold." He was somewhat grudgingly to admit, and his tone warned Link about any kind of comment. It was hard to tell whether it was true, his shivering indeed reminded on freezing, and Link knew better than to dig deeper.
"I know what we'll do. Sit over there, it's sunny, I'll tell you while you warm up." Confusion made room for excitement, and Link waved the demon spirit over. For the first time since his flight, he was sure he had a plan.
He thought the smile Ghirahim grazed him with was a tad bit indulgent. "I'll warm up," he agreed quietly, more to himself as he continued to hold his arm. Link impatiently waited for him to sit in the sun-spotted grass and then knelt down, his hands gesturing vividly.
"I know what was taken! It was a harp, that harp with incredible music, whoever set the Temple on fire wanted it and is using it! Do you know it? The sounds it made, it was… breathtaking."
Ghirahim closed his eyes as if to dwell on it. "I know it. Hades' Harp. It's powers are unique."
"So it's dangerous. We need to find it, right? Quickly!" Link couldn't seem to stop his voice as he gestured towards the horizon, adrenaline sweeping away all the lingering effects of the translocation.
Ghirahim didn't move, Link's actionism obviously didn't affect him. When he opened his eyes again, they were hooded and dark.
"Still not warm?"
In answer, Ghirahim jerked him down by his shoulder and dug his sharp fangs into the base of his neck.
/
A/N: I'm dreadfully slow once more, quelle surprise. So I'm even more grateful for feedback, I hope I caught all the mistakes – they kept creeping in this time.
No worries, Link won't turn mushy anytime soon. I'll make up for the groping-moment… One does not save the world and then quietly surrender to demons.
