Chapter 11: Uprising
LinkIsaacANDLloyd's author note: Yea, well, another month, another chapter. Pretty pathetic how long it takes us, but…meh. We're both gonna try really hard to get a ton of chapters out during June, July, August…the summer, essentially. Now, I regret to inform you all, this is the last 'Prison scene', aka 'Malon chapter' for a while. It's just become painfully difficult to write the characters in the same mundane position constantly. I'm sure you'll be able to see from this one how painful it was for me to squeeze it out of my brain. Yea, well, it still sets up a pivotal point, which will be looked at later on. So, yea, if you like these chapters…too bad, this ZELDA fic, will finally be centered on LINK after this. Muahahaha. Let us know what you think!
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Sitting on her knees she stared into the small tub of water in front of her. Her reflection stared back at her. She felt her hands unconsciously clench when she beheld herself. Touching her face tentatively - as if to make sure the one she saw in the water was really her own - that filthy and disgusting face, she cringed.
Tiny ripples spread through the water as she took a step closer to it and her movement disturbed the tub. Nervously, she watched the inky blackness as it slowly settled down. She couldn't remember the last time it had been changed.
Dirt, chunks of various bile, grease. Hair. It bobbed along the surface like a vast fleet at sea. She frowned. A vast fleet stranded on a dead and motionless sea, with no wind to fill its sails and waves to push it onward, was more like it.
So much like myself, she thought. Stranded in Hell, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
She began to roll up her sleeves and looked at her arms; so thin and bony and trembling. Her skirt and blouse, once things so trivial, were suddenly precious, though they barely existed anymore. Held together by crude stitching and dirty brown cloth, the garments seemed as disgusting as the horrible water before her.
Shuddering, she leaned over the tub and stared into it for what felt like a very long time. Nearly losing herself in its texture, she suddenly snapped back when she heard footsteps nearby. Looking up, she quickly looked back down again.
Just a guard walking past the cell. A guard looking all too eagerly for someone to make eye contact with him, so he could single them out for one thing or another and entertain himself.
"Not again," she muttered. "Not again…"
Looking back towards the tub before her, it took her a moment to remember what she was doing. Soon, it clicked and she was leaning over the water once more. With her sleeves rolled up, she slowly lowered her hands towards the water. She flinched at how cold it was, and how it seemed to cling thickly to her skin. She brought a hand to her face and watched with disgusted fascination as it dripped slowly, almost oozing, from her fingers.
"It's not like it can get any worse," she sighed, running her thumb and forefinger down a length of oily, sickly, hair.
Cupping her hands, she leaned towards the water and prepared to splash it over her head and hair. A sudden crunch of gravel made her turn around. She had been expecting someone to approach her at some point, but never in all the world did she think it would be him.
"What are you doing there, girlie?"
She cringed very slightly at his nickname for her.
"Thinking of takin' a little dunk?" he asked, pointing to the tub behind her with a smirk.
He watched her through the narrow gaps in his thick, greasy black bangs, scratching an itch on his viciously hooked nose and narrow chin. The barren rags of his clothes hung across his frame loosely and between the rips and tears Malon could see his body, sunken and haggard. Even so, his muscles, built by his hard labor in the camp, bulged through his tight skin and looked almost grotesque.
"Randulf," she said, averting her gaze, for something about him always unsettled her.
She had no wish to actually speak to him, and preferred the awe inspiring company of a tree instead. But, since there were no trees, or even decently sized rocks, in their cell, she looked back at him with a blank expression.
"Yea, that's my name alright. So girlie," he began again, "what are ya doin over here? By that swamp I might add."
Trying to ignore the stare of his midnight black eyes, she looked past him as she talked.
"I was just…standing around, is all."
"So standing around includes preparing to bathe yourself in toxins?"
Her eyes widened a little but she raised a skeptical eyebrow. His smirk grew a little larger.
"W-what do you mean?" she asked, quickly changing her expression.
"That water. It's poison," he replied simply.
Malon looked over her shoulder at the oily water, seeing a few more vivid pieces of bile floating in it. She hid her gag and looked back at Randulf.
"You're joking right?" she asked, trying not to play into his hand.
He laughed. Almost too loud, for several guards nearby looked up at a possible reason to hit something defenseless and weak. Unable to pinpoint the source, they returned to attention at their posts, each a little downcast.
"Think about it, girlie. The Brynyans change that, oh, once a month or two…or three. And we're in open air cells. When it rains, or it snows, or even when it decides to drop some fucking hail on us, we get to sit right under it and enjoy it. Now, you'll notice all that beautiful smog coming from the factories and shit on the other side of the camp. Where do you think that goes when it mixes with the clouds, and it rains…?"
He pointed slowly at the tub behind her.
"In that so called water," he sniggered. "I think it'd be healthier just to swallow your pride and go around dirty and stinky like the rest of us. But that's just greasy old me. I've always been a dirty bastard, after all…"
"Is that so…" she said, more to herself than Randulf as she looked at what she had nearly washed her face in.
Truthfully, she had known from the very beginning just how dirty and unsafe the water was for any use whatsoever. But whether it was a sudden violent urge to be clean, or some other, less pleasant motivation, she couldn't say. Besides, Svnier used it multiple times and he seemed perfectly healthy.
"Svnier isn't exactly the best example when you're trying to gauge the health effects a substance might have on you based on what it does to him," Randulf snickered. "He's not really, oh, normal, you might say. I bet that bastard could catch a bullet in his teeth…or at the very least deflect one with his face and stay standing. Mark my words girlie, that one's a crazy bastard…"
"And what about you? I'm sure you didn't come over here just to talk about poison and how much hair Svnier has."
Randulf's face darkened and he took a sudden step closer to her, so that they were almost touching and she could feel his breath on her neck. She was too surprised to move back, and if she had she would have tripped over the tub.
"I'm here to give you some advice I just thought you might want," he began, whispering into her ear slowly, "watch your back. These Brynyans… They're sick fuckers. They'd do anything for… Hell, anybody would do anything for that! Anything damn you! And who can say what happens to someone when they're incapacitated…and isolated."
He backed off and chuckled a bit as he wiped a strand of greasy hair out of his face. Malon stared at him with revulsion and he chuckled some more.
"Are you insane?! I've been here a few months now, so I think I know how messed up the Brynyans are! So what's that supposed to mean then!?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"Take care there, girlie. Don't use the water," he said with a smile of cracked and rotted teeth, ignoring her question.
Malon looked away and shuddered. When she looked back, Randulf had seemingly vanished, but she saw him crouched down in a far corner of the cell, talking with the giant Svnier. She couldn't seem to shake the feeling he was glaring at her through his greasy bangs.
What in Din's name is wrong with that man? she wondered. And why would he warn her about the Brynyans? She already knew firsthand what they could do. But what did he mean by 'that? She couldn't shrug off the dreadful feeling it gave her. She tensed up when she heard footsteps behind her.
"Take it from me Malon; Randulf is about as sane as a mass murderer."
She turned around in surprise and nearly fainted in relief when she saw Sothe.
"I think it would be in your best interest not to pay attention to anything he says to you in private. He's been in the custody of the Brynyans longer than any of us…I'm afraid his mind isn't completely there anymore," he sighed.
"So, he's crazy?" she asked.
"Crazy?" Sothe fixed her with an odd look and then chuckled. "No, I don't think crazy is the right word for it. Randulf is… Well, he is mad. Mad and a little crazy I guess. But just outright crazy? I highly doubt it."
Malon looked at Sothe for a moment, giving him a look that made him frown.
"Ah, well, I really don't know what his story is. He won't open up to any of us. Far as I can tell, he has some deep hatred for the Brynyans and will probably spend the rest of his life searching for a way to get back at them for something. One thing's for sure though, he definitely has a far different reason for being here than the rest of us."
"Yeah, we're all just civilians caught up in things we can't control," Malon said sadly. There was a long, awkward silence afterward.
"Well come on then," Sothe said, breaking the silence and putting a hand on her shoulder and steering her towards the center of the cell. "Ike has something to show everyone tonight, when most of the guards are gone. He says this is the perfect time for it, now that we've been put on a rest cycle for a day or so. Hah! Damn Brynyans just don't want us collapsing dead from exhaustion, is all… They need bodies, after all…" he trailed off, muttering angrily.
He paused and turned around suddenly. He raised an eyebrow and gave Malon a look.
"Were you gonna use that stuff?" he asked, pointing at the stagnant water in the small tub.
She shook her head furiously.
"Good idea," Sothe laughed. "Goddesses only know the Brynyans haven't changed that so called 'wash water' in ages…
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Later that night, as most of the guards were nodding off at their posts or too drunk to be aware of the world anymore, a strange sound was drifting out of many of the cells. Cycled off work duties for a few days so they wouldn't actually die of exhaustion and deprive their captors of working bodies, the prisoners in cell-block B had congregated together in their individual, isolated hells.
Suppressed laughter and happy voices hung quietly upon the night air. The guards meant to keep order in the cell-block were lying unconscious in a drunken stupor after several hours of celebrating some obscure thing, or just drinking because they had nothing better to do.
It was an almost magical night for the prisoners of cell-block B. It was after all, the first time since arriving in the camp that the Brynyans didn't seem to care what they did within the confines of their cells. While there certainly wasn't a jubilant air about the cell-block, it was decidedly more cheerful than it had been before. Even though they all knew everything would be back to normal in a day or two, they were still relieved; to be able to almost freely reminisce and talk to each other.
None of them were aware of the cold eyes which watched them all from the top of the prison citadel.
In one particular cell, there was no laughter, no joy. Just a grim, uneasy air as its inhabitants huddled together around a fire and spoke in hushed voices. They labored at the same time to be as quiet as possible, yet still be audible to the others. Their bodies shook with anxiety and they constantly glanced over their shoulders at every little sound outside their circle.
"…and this is how it'll be done."
The others watched with baited breath as Ike reached into the folds of fabric around his waist and pulled something long from its sheath of wretched fabric. It glinted brilliantly in the firelight, the light almost seeming to drip from its perfect surface, and he quickly lowered it to the ground and hunched over it so it wouldn't reflect the light.
It was a long piece of metal, fashioned into the likeness of a dagger blade without a handle. The tip was so fine it was almost impossible to see in the semi-darkness. Wordlessly, he held out his hand and Sothe placed a piece of wood in his open palm. He fit it and the metal spike together, spit in the dirt and dulled the sheen of the blade with the wet earth, and held it up for them to see.
Somehow, in the absolute confinement of the prison, a dagger had been fashioned from scratch.
"Well I'll be, boy," said Svnier as he took the knife and held it in his hands. "I knew Sothe there was handy with wood carving, but how could you make such a perfect blade? And in such little time, too!"
He reached over the fire and patted Ike on the head gently as he chuckled lightly.
"There's more to you than meets the eye boy, more indeed! But I won't pry." He handed the knife back to Ike and sat back down quietly.
"The details of how I made this or even how I knew how to make it to begin with, are…complicated," Ike began slowly. "You're free to imagine for yourself how, but that's not important right now. Sothe?"
Picking up his daughter from his lap and handing her off to Malon, Sothe dug around in his clothes like Ike and produced another, almost identical, dagger. Svnier nearly fainted out of surprise but managed a hearty but quiet chuckle instead. Randulf merely smiled darkly and nodded knowingly. Malon and Beth both shook their heads and sighed as they saw the fire in the eyes of Ike and Sothe. Even Svnier had a new gleam in his own.
"So we have weapons," stated Randulf. "Now what do you intend to do with them?"
Ike fixed him with a stare, knowing he already knew what their intentions were. He humored him anyway for the others' sake.
"Well, what do you do with weapons? You fight. You kill. You die." He ignored the almost inaudible gasp from Malon. "I know how stupid it is to think we could escape. Maybe me and Sothe, and Svnier and Randulf too I guess, might be able to get out alive, but whoever can't will be left behind or die in the attempt. If we leave anyone behind, they will suffer while we run free. I couldn't live with that. None of us could."
"So…we're not going to break out? Then what the fuck was the point of making them, Ike?" Randulf asked heatedly. "We're stuck rotting in this hell-hole and so you make some weapons. Oh, yea, that's great and all, but you don't even intend to use them to escape. If you're too much of a pussy to use 'em then here, I'll take em and kill every Brynyan in this fucking prison!"
He reached out for the knife in Sothe's hands but never got close. Ike stood up and laid him out with a clean punch to the face, and he fell on his back with a grunt. Randulf held his face with one hand and his free hand at his side was balled into a fist and shaking with almost uncontrolled rage.
"Randulf," Ike began, his voice firm but hushed as he stared at the fallen man with hard eyes, "I know you have more reason than any of us to hate the Brynyans, and this place, but I need you to just get a grip on yourself! Taking a knife that by all rights we shouldn't even be able to have gotten and attacking the guards with it like a maniac while trying to escape is only going to get you killed. And your death will be meaningless!"
Randulf brushed spit and blood away from his mouth with the back of his arm as he sat up with a groan. He spat a thick wad of blood and spittle into the dirt and looked past the fire and into straight into Ike's eyes.
"Fine then… You've got weapons, so how's it going to be done? How're you going to escape, or whatever the hell you're trying to accomplish here?"
Ike ignored him and looked around the fire at the faces of everyone in turn. He paused for a second longer when he looked towards Malon. He flinched when she met his gaze and he looked away, staring into the flames.
Those damn eyes…
"Don't you want revenge?" whispered Sothe quickly, nudging Ike out of his reverie with his elbow.
"Revenge?" growled Svnier. "Of what kind?"
"The bloody kind, I'd assume," Randulf said coolly, still massaging parts of his aching face, though his rotten teeth were exposed in a wicked and bloody smile.
"Yes… there will be blood. There will be death. I don't even expect any of us who take part in this to survive the ordeal." He fingered the blade of his dagger tentatively as he looked around the fire at the others. "Now… who will join me, knowing full well this is most definitely suicide."
Svnier chuckled, Randulf smirked, and Sothe nodded solemnly.
"Whatever it is, I will be there with ya Ike…killin' these bastards anyway I can," growled Svnier.
"You know damn well I'm getting one of those knives, you know. You can have it back once I'm dead," Randulf spat.
"I was with you from the beginning Ike… There's no way I wouldn't be there for the end!" Sothe balled his fists together and lowered his voice to a growl. "Nothing will stop me from putting my beloved at peace by killing them all…"
Ike actually smiled then, even laughed a little.
"I suppose I should have made four knives then? No matter… This is what we'll do…"
Malon and Beth, completely forgotten by the others, looked on helplessly as Ike shared his seemingly insane plan for final vengeance against the Brynyans.
"What is Daddy and the others talking 'bout, Malon?" Mist asked shyly, looking up at Malon's face.
Malon wiped away a tear and sighed sadly.
"They're going to try and be heroes, Mist. Just like all the stories you were told at bedtime… heroes."
"I wish I knew, Mist. I wish I knew… All I know is they're planning something. It's all we can do to pray to the Goddesses they don't get hurt in the process…"
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There was a deep rumbling, and suddenly all the lights went out and the bulbs burst.
"Hmm…now that is interesting," whispered a deep and scratchy voice in the dark.
The darkness was briefly illuminated by a flare of light; a lit match. Flickering weakly, the match was snuffed out and the flare replaced by a dull red glow. Thick smoke drifted through the air and was barely visible against the backdrop of the lit cigarette butt.
"My lord?" someone asked tentatively.
There was a loud bang as someone slammed their fist on something. Several people in the room jumped back and their feet scraping against the floor was painfully loud in the darkness.
"Would you idiots turn on the fucking auxiliary lights?" There was a terse silence, after which several pairs of feet scrambled around in the dark noisily. "Before I shoot you all in the fucking head, you dumbasses."
Moments later, the room was bathed in bright light. Five people quickly made their way back to their seats around a large table which dominated the room. The room shook as explosions shook the ground overhead.
"As I was saying," began Dragmire slowly, "this is quite interesting. According to this report, Hans' so called 'elite legions' were overrun in just under a week? They manage a week, and then they lost a whole goddamned city?"
The other five sitting around the table glanced at each other nervously. Neither of them wanted to actually say anything, because none of them were sure if he was actually mad or not. In the end, one, a man in his early fifties with significant balding but a thick grey beard on his chin and a colonel's pins on his black uniform, stood up and addressed him.
"With all due respect sir, General Berdichsnacht was an arrogant fool with only levied men from backwater regions at his command. He overestimated his forces and underestimated the enemy. I do not believe this is any cause for concern, as the Hyruleans' hold on the city is very strenuous because they have yet to advance on the outlying villages. Their operations fortifying the city are being grossly impeded by our artillery in the villages, and only the highest and longest range bombers they have can slip past our interceptors from the northern airfields." He straitened his uniform and toyed with one of his pins as he looked towards Dragmire expectantly.
"What are you waiting for? A damn commendation? Sit down you dumb old bastard. I know all of that, and I am damn well aware that the Hyruleans' have long range bombers that can fly higher than our available fighters and flak guns. Not to mention that goddamn Leviathan they keep in Great Bay, even though they rarely fire it. Superstitious bastards. But of course I know about the bombers, because I can hear them blowing up my forces right fucking above me! My fortress city is being blown to pieces! What I really want to know from you idiots is where the fuck are the new interceptors or even long range anti-air flak artillery I was promised, what, two months ago? What the hell is going on here? I need them and I need them now!"
As he angrily slammed his fists against the table, his five advisors cringed and shrunk away from his rage. Even the colonel, who had been so bold before, was now quivering in his seat before Dragmire's anger.
"Sir… The Seleucians have begun a renewed counter offensive against Brynyan forces all along their borders. Millions of men are likely to die in the battles there, on both sides. But the worst part is that the Seleucians managed to gain enough ground that they could get their artillery in range of Howling Pass, which connects our supply lines from Mother Brynya and Sumeria to Termina. They caused a massive avalanche and the pass will be inaccessible for a long time… and I guess you haven't gotten your supplies before then, sir, because they were in greater need of them in the war against the Seleucians. And I guess—"
Bang! Dragmire held his smoking pistol in his hand and smiled at the dead man, watching blood ooze from his forehead onto the table.
"Bastard. Should have been more respectful to his superiors. And yes, you stupid corpse, I guess I haven't gotten the shipments by sea because, this just in, the Hyrulean Navy is in control of Great Bay and much of the surrounding ocean, not to mention they control the only port in this entire damn country, and its main coastal city! Well, this is just fucking perfect. Now I need a new idiot to replace him, and my forces are being blown to Hell! Mein Fuehrer is NOT going to be pleased with our progress here. We need to crush those damn Hyruleans and we need to do it now! Kaiser forbid, the war with Seleucia go sour and they meet up with Hyrulean forces streaming across Termina… Arrrrgggh!! This is BULLSHIT!!"
His aides dived for cover as he leapt from his seat, picked it up, and smashed it over the table, shattering both pieces of furniture. Chunks of table and chair scattered around the room, he stood with his fists clenched and his chest heaving as he looked around the room.
"No doubt…those Hyruleans will try and save all the Terminian civilians we have imprisoned in the camps in Eastern Termina… They'll likely send a good number of their forces that way to save them, and then take the ancient fortress city of Ikana and hold them all there… Hmm… What the fuck do I do with this mess? Goddammit Hans, you just had to be so eager to imprison worthless peasants. Just fucking shoot them, I say! We have too many forces in those camps… And they're not even producing anything, unlike those camps in Sumeria! They're just sitting there taking up space! Damn it all!"
"Sir, uh… General Dragmire sir?" one of the four remaining aides asked as he stood up slowly from the floor.
Dragmire eyed them viciously for a moment then nodded slowly at him. He cleared his throat and leaned against the wall to help his shaking.
"Sir, I believe it would be in the best interest of our forces if you withdrew all the legions stationed in Eastern Termina. Let them have the region, we need those forces to hold this city, sir."
Dragmire actually paused to consider it, staring at the floor and stroking his scarlet beard thoughtfully. He gazed around the room, and his eyes came to rest on a tactical board of Termina hanging from the wall, with magnetic pieces to mark troop deployments and such. He walked over to it, looked at it for a few short moments, then turned back to his cowering aides. He took a deep breath and sighed.
"This is all too damn stressful… Ah, well, you are right, colonel. We have nearly 400,000 troops in those camps doing absolutely nothing, and only 300,000 here in Aborwatch and 600,000 in Ville d'horloge itself. The Hyruleans will advance on us with almost all of their forces… almost a million men, if intelligence is to be trusted. Alright. Send the order to call all those men back here, into Aborwatch. I'll redeploy them myself when they get here. In their place, so the Hyruleans have a fun time losing men and resources freeing those worthless peasants, send the Thantos Legions to 'guard' the camps and hinder Hyrulean advances through the so-called, 'Sea of Grass' in central Termina."
"T-The Thantos Legions sir? Are you s-sure?" asked a dumbstruck aide.
"Don't make me shoot you, you fucking idiot. You heard what I said, dammit! Now do it! Those crazy bastards will keep the Hyruleans more than occupied, considering most of their forces are semi-retarded inbreeds drafted from their farms all across that damn country. Now, go you idiots! You have your orders! Go!"
As his aides scrambled from the room as more explosions rumbled over head, Ganondorf Dragmire returned his attention to the tactical board. He moved some pieces around and laughed to himself. More explosions shook the room.
"Now, to swat those pesky bombers out of the sky…"
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xakattak's A/N: As my partner said, it's pretty lame that it takes us almost a month to update each time, but now that summer's here you can hopefully expect more frequent updates. Well, he has said pretty much everything that needed to be said, so all I can say is read and review! Next chapter should be posted soon.