Chapter 7: The Land beneath the Waves

As if the beamoi weren't enough, kargarocs also prowled this final staircase. Link had to stop several times, in an area just barely outside of two beamoi's sight, to aim his boomerang at a kargaroc as it swooped down. Tetra wisely kept silent as he climbed, and climbed, and climbed. He could not help noticing the rise of the moon to the east, showing him just how long he had been exploring the dungeon. He had spent over a day in there; he could feel it in his weary legs, desperate for rest. But, there was no time for that now.

At last, however, he stood at a tall, ornate door, decorated in lines and swirls in red, blue, and green. It was flanked by two vases each, to either side. In the centre of the door was a padlock holding it shut, all of bronze, to match the boss key. He pulled out said key, and stuck it into the lock, and the key and lock vanished as the door unlocked, and the handle was revealed.

"Link, I have to get some sleep soon," Tetra said. She yawned, and he had the sense that she was trying to restrain her obvious fatigue in consideration for him, who could not rest, but must press ever onward. "Do you want me to stay with you, to see this through to the end?"

He was surprised that she would even offer. Since when did Tetra care? He shoved aside earlier musings about this very question, and considered.

"The boss is in the room beyond," he said. "I don't need any distractions, but you have been helpful. Maybe you'll notice something I don't. I'm sorry to ask it of you, but…."

"I'll stay—just 'til you beat the boss," said Tetra. There was none of the usual haughtiness in her voice. It made her sound… strange….

In a good way.

Pay attention to the task at hand! Link berated himself, throwing open the door.

He walked into the boss's chamber, but there was no waiting monster to pounce upon him the second he entered. Bars shot down across the door behind him, and what he had previously taken to be a decoration in the wall in his brief glance around the room began to be covered in lines of green, red, and blue.

"You have done well to come this far," said a woman's voice, sweet and gentle.

"Oh, Chosen One," said a second female voice, with a sad, soft sigh.

"You have truly shown great strength," said a deeper voice, also female, with a sense of unwavering stolid strength to it.

"Your quest is not yet done, however," said the second woman, in a level voice.

"Oh, Chosen One," sighed the first.

"Accept our final test," said the third woman. Then all three voices cried in unison:

"GOHDAN!"

First one hand detached from the wall, and then the second. They were slate grey, matching the previous columns, far below, except for the bright red eyes in the palms.

Finally, a great head like a skull, with a brazen headdress, and two glowing red eyes, detached from the wall, and each piece of Gohdan began to move separately.

"Link, what did they say?" asked Tetra.

"You mean you didn't understand them?" Link asked, as he pulled out his bow. The quiver reappeared, of course. He was starting to understand how this all seemed to work, now.

"Of course not! They were speaking gibberish! How did you understand them—never mind that now!" She had noticed Gohdan. "What is that thing?"

He could feel her shake her head to refocus her attention. "I think you you have to take those hands out first—that's why they've got the same glowing red spots as the eyes."

Link nodded in acknowledgement, and aimed for the red eye of the left hand. He wasn't that surprised to hit the red eye dead on with his first shot, barely acknowledging this fact before turning to the second hand, arrow already notched to the string. This shot, too, was true, and he ignored Tetra's muffled attempts to suppress that she was impressed by his accuracy and speed, shifting his focus to the red eyes. There was something oddly familiar about this battle….

Gohdan's movements became less predictable with both hands dangling limply from the air. Link aimed higher, towards the red eyes high above, but it was much harder to aim at the constantly moving head.

"Link! Watch out!" Tetra cried, and he staggered, overcome by the sensation of déjà vu, the memory of a much higher-pitched voice, which had always been there to help him in battle before.

Before what?

The stream of fire that Tetra was repeatedly trying to call his attention to, billowing in two columns from Gohdan's nostrils, almost hit Link before he came to himself, remembering what he was doing. The hands would surely come back to life soon. He had to hurry and hit Gohdan's eyes.

He notched a sixth arrow, glad of the replacements he had found in the room with the moving platforms and the boss key. Maybe this room itself had a hidden supply of arrows somewhere, but why chance it? Still, he had had thirty arrows upon entering this room. Now he had twenty-four.

He took careful aim once the streams of fire stopped, and sighted the arrow, drawing and finally striking the left eye. It felt a much greater victory than it ought to have.

Tetra cheered in the background, as he withdrew a seventh arrow, aiming briefly before letting fly. He was beginning to understand the statue's erratic movements, perhaps.

Gohdan crashed to the ground, its mouth unhinging, open wide, and Link sighed, pulling out the messenger bag, and the bomb bag within it, setting the bow beside him on the ground for the moment. He withdrew a bomb, broke the fuse, and threw it into the waiting jaws of the boss. Before the bomb detonated, he had already stowed the messenger bag, bomb bag once more inside it, back into his pocket, and picked up his bow, already aiming (undrawn) towards the conjectured position of the left hand, once it reactivated.

Immediately following the explosion, Gohdan lifted back into the air, accompanied by its no longer dangling hands, which had resumed their position of palms facing straight outwards, held as if they were about to clap together. This raised the uncomfortable question of what it would feel like to be clapped between those two hands. Maybe one would just clench into a fist if it could catch him, or maybe they would come together to squish him.

He wished he hadn't thought of that.

He notched the eighth arrow, and aimed for the left hand. He hadn't been misremembering; these were easier targets than the eyes. As if to prove this to himself, he shot at the left eye next, but the eye closed, deflecting the arrow. Of course.

He redirected his aim towards the right hand, which he readily hit and subdued, and then once more fixed his attention upon the eyes. The eleventh arrow successfully found its mark, but not the twelfth or the thirteenth. He stayed in constant motion around the arena, trying to mimic the boss's movements, wary of the gouts of flame.

The fourteenth arrow finally struck Gohdan's right eye, and Link had already set aside the bow even as Gohdan crashed to the ground. He pulled out his bomb bag once again, withdrew the bomb, and broke the fuse before throwing it into Gohdan's now gaping mouth.

Once more, he had put away the bomb bag, and returned his bow to its customary horizontal position before Gohdan rose once more into the air, looking none the worse for wear for the two bombs that had exploded inside of it. But, if it had truly been made by gods….

Link shot the left hand before it could move, immediately pivoting as he notched his bow, already aiming for the right hand. This time, he managed to hit each eye on his first try. He had only twelve arrows left now. He still had plenty of bombs, however.

He threw the bomb into Gohdan's mouth, and picked up his bow, aiming for where he knew the right hand would rise. He hit each hand on his first try, but it took several attempts to hit the left eye. Gohdan had twice nearly scorched him with the fire that came from its nostrils (wasn't that what dragons were supposed to do; hadn't he heard of a dragon that did just that?), before he finally struck. Then it was onto the right eye. Tetra was keeping uncharacteristically quiet, only occasionally calling out warnings. At last, he hit the right eye, and Gohdan plummeted once more.

He pulled out the bomb bag, threw the bomb into the mouth (this was beginning to seem almost routine), and then stuffed the bomb bag back into the messenger bag back into his pocket, wishing as he did that there were some other way of storing his equipment. Hadn't he been thinking about one in the Forbidden Woods?

He had already picked up the bow, aiming for where the hands ought to rise, when Gohdan and its hands rose once again from the floor. He shot at it once before realising that the whole was moving back towards the wall whence it came.

Laughter from some unseen source flooded the room.

"You have done well indeed," said the gentle, soft voice from before.

"Oh, Chosen One," said the familiar third voice, deep and powerful.

"You have proven yourself worthy," said the firm, confident voice. "Enter the light, Chosen One, and ring the bell to sound your victory."

Green light concentrated itself into a column in the middle of the chamber, just a few feet from where he stood.

"I think the boss fight is over now, Tetra," he told the pirate captain. "They said something about entering that green light and ringing a bell, and the lights are vanishing from Gohdan. Thank you for waiting with me. In fact, thank you for all your help in this dungeon. I appreciate everything you've done for Aryll and me."

"Entering a light? Ringing a bell? I don't know what they're talking about, but, oh well. This was almost… fun. Like going on an adventure. Maybe I'll check in on you again, hero. But for now, I'm getting some much-needed sleep. Good night to you."

"Good night, Tetra," he said, oh-so-softly, as if there were some secret danger to the words.

He shoved the bow back into his messenger bag, and then stowed the messenger bag into his pocket. Then, he headed for the green light, which lifted him up, and up, the moment he stepped into it. It lifted him through the ceiling, into a belfry at the top of the tower.

In the middle of this belfry was a log, supported by two triangular arches of white stone, a bit like a spit. Hanging from the log was a large, bronze bell, which was shiny and new-looking, as if it hadn't been hidden underwater for who-knew-how-long. A conspicuous beam jutted out of the bell where the clapper ought to be, putting him in mind of the grappling hook poles. He sighed, withdrawing the messenger bag yet again.

He took careful aim, ensuring that the hook wrapped securely around the "clapper", and began to swing back and forth on the rod. Some manner of clapper sounded as he swung from side to side. Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong!

As he swung, a blue light—smaller than the green and red that had preceded it—began to form near the edge of the belfry. Although he could not see it from here, the King of Red Lions sailed into the waters enclosed by the circular arcade, as bright yellow light began to shine upon the water's surface.

When the blue light was at last opaque, he detached himself from the rod, storing the grappling hook in his bag, before stepping into the blue light. It lifted him up, and set him down in the sea next to the King of Red Lions. Good thing he could swim.

"Well done, Link Sylvanus!" boomed the King of Red Lions, turning his neck to face Link. "You have proven yourself worthy, and the gods have seen fit to open the path to what fate awaits you. Climb in, and let us venture into the world that awaits within that circle of yellow light you see before you. Do not be alarmed! It is all quite safe!"

With these ominous words, the King of Red Lions began to move towards the light, and Link hastened to climb in.

When they reached the light, they began to sink, as if they had taken water. The waters rose up around them with agonising slowness, and Link waited until the water was over his neck before taking a deep gulp of air, as they continued to sink through that beam of yellow light… down to the sea floor. He clung to the sides of the boat lest he be separated from his only companion in this venture—the only one who would even know he was lost.

And slowly, slowly, they sank through the water. It might have been beautiful under different circumstances. As it was, Link was too focused on not drowning to pay much heed to the distortion of light above and about him, and the deep pure blue of the water around him. He ignored the schools of fish, and floating weeds, in favour of holding his breath.

At last there came a point in which he could hold his breath no longer—and he expelled the air he had inhaled, and breathed in the water, desperate enough for air that his body didn't give his mind time to protest that this was not air at all, but water.

It might have been water, but it behaved just as air did. Instead of drowning, he felt as if he had emerged into a pocket of air. He could feel liquid sliding through his mouth and airways, but it behaved strangely like air—or was air—and he suffered no ill effects.

He wouldn't drown in the beam of light?

He looked around him with interest, now, as a metal rod so smooth and regularly shaped that it must be man-made came into view. A pennant of three triangles—red, blue, green—flapped lazily in the water's current, as if in a breeze.

Beneath it was a pyramidal tower roof, and below that, a rectangular tower, stretching up. They passed first roof, and then tower on their way down. As they did, he noticed two other similar towers, further away, to the left and the right.

Slowly, a castle—a building that he had only seen in Sturgeon's history books, but knew at once as if the word were etched into his soul for safekeeping—rose around them, meeting them as they sank, and sank, and sank.

And suddenly, there was no water around them at all, but he saw that the clear water around them had been exchanged for a bubble of equally clear air. He could feel it in the sudden lack of wetness, and in the change, the alleviation of pressure around him, from the weight of the water. They might have been a mile below the surface, but here, inexplicable, a wall of air kept out the sea.

They settled into what must once have been a fountain—a quaint little pond, with stepping stones leading from a grassy verge bounded by a low rock wall, to the gaping doors of the castle itself. Next these doors, the familiar triple triangle gleamed golden, flanked by rays of light, somehow hanging, unsupported, above a column.

Would he at last learn what they were?

Didn't he already know?

"Link Sylvanus. This is what remains of the kingdom that was drowned beneath the waves in the story your island elders like to tell. This is the kingdom from the legend, the land 'blessed with green forests, tall mountains, and peace'. This is the land that Ganon once tried to conquer, using the power of the Triforce, before he was driven back by the Hero of Time—" again his voice tightened, and it was more obvious both because Link knew the boat better, and because he had been waiting for it, "—wielding the Blade of Evil's Bane: The Master Sword. To put a stop to Ganon's evil plans, the goddesses chose to flood Hyrule. But, now that Ganon has emerged on the world above, a hero of that world must stop him. That is where you come in.

"Enter the castle now, and make your way to the resting place of the legendary artefact. It should be beneath a statue in the main chamber."

There was only one reason his voice would have grown harsh again when he said the word "statue". Well, at least Link knew what he was looking for.

"It may not be readily apparent, but there will be a path to the basement. Find it, and take your place in history!"

Link nodded, and walked into the castle.

Within, he noticed first that statues of monsters stood all around. These were of darknuts, and of moblins, wielding their respective jagged-edged blades and pikes. Next, he noticed that everything around was grey, even things that he was sure ought to be a different colour. There were monochromatic portraits hanging from the walls, in shiny grey frames, railings that had the texture of wood but the colour of slate, and proudly displayed coats of arms and insigniae, all in different shades of grey.

He looked down at himself, and found that his clothes were still green, and his boots were still brown, and his skin was still, if pale, nevertheless not grey. He wondered when he had forgotten that his clothes were those of the Legendary Hero—when they had become normal to him. He was at least as secure and comfortable with wearing them as he had been his old blue shirt and orange pants. Perhaps more so; these clothes were strangely reassuring, and provided more freedom of movement besides. His Grandma had outdone herself.

As he moved past the first railing—that of a wraparound walkway that went around the perimeter of the room, intermittently interrupted with gaps through which three might walk abreast (or one darknut might slide through, if he were careful)—he continued to take in the atmosphere and the scene around him. He passed a second balcony with a statue standing on a pedestal, from which Link deliberately averted his eyes, at least for the moment; he felt very small in this room as it was.

At the lower, far end of the hall, before a door barricaded off by lines of crackling purple energy, there were two or three darknuts, and a moblin. Link saw the angle in which one darknut held his sword, how it stopped just past the column that lay, broken and scattered, upon the floor. Perhaps, these were not mere statues, after all. His eyes narrowed, reassessing the scene around him. An invasion, immortalised in a pictograph. Not good.

He walked up to the crackling energy barrier, and then spun on his heel, marching back whence he had come.

In the centre of the hall, three short slabs of rock rose from the floor. They were flat, and came to about his knees, and were in the shape of triangles, each one pointing in a different direction: one towards the lower left, one to the lower right, and the third towards the entry door.

Nearby, three tall triangular blocks, each rectangular face twice as tall as he, stood scattered about this sunken field.

And facing them, as if watching, stood the statue.

"He… he looks just like me…" Link said, stunned, approaching the statue, whose pedestal was surrounded on three sides by a wooden railing. There were stairs leading up to the statue's balcony, but standing where Link stood now, the statue was beyond his reach. He could only look.

Had its sculptor known the Hero of Time? Was this statue made to his likeness by one who knew him? Did he so resemble his famous ancestor? Yes, whispered the part of his mind devoted to puzzle-solving. Remember how the three guardian spirits reacted when they saw you?

It was true that there were differences. The Hero of Time had bangs that sprang from his forehead in two arches, instead of Link's wild mop of hair. Of course, he hadn't cut his hair in a while. Who knew what it looked like, now? Who knew how it would look if he grew it out; the Hero of Time's hair was apparently worn at least shoulder length, judging by the bangs that framed either side of a very familiar face. He had seen his own face from without only recently, when he had used the "Command Melody". Could descent from the Hero of Time explain just how close the resemblance was? It couldn't be the artist's familiarity with Link's more immediate kin; this statue had been beneath the waves since the goddesses had drowned the kingdom in which it resided.

But, look at the shield it held loosely in its right hand! It looked completely different from the shield he wore on his own back—and not just on account of its lack of colour. While the statue's shield came to a point at the top, his shield was flat across. The design, too, was different—more ornate on the statue's larger shield. The clothes were different from those Link now wore, with a short-sleeved tunic over some sort of tight-fitting undershirt, and gauntlets over those. The stocking cap had no brim.

Against all logic, it was in body shape, face shape, and facial features that Link most resembled the Legendary Hero, if this statue were to be believed. The traditional clothes should have been, but were not, identical. The shield had belonged to the Hero of Time, but it was a different shield than the statue held. And, the sword….

Link at last let his gaze shift to rest upon the sword that the Hero of Time pointed to the sky, holding it aloft, straight up, as if to cut through to the surface. He could see the winged crossguard, and something like a fuller ran around the edge of the blade. Not a fuller, maybe. Well, Link knew nothing about the names of parts of a blade, and it didn't matter, anyway.

After all, he was soon to see the Master Sword itself, wasn't he?

He stared at the triangular blocks around him, and began pulling and pushing them into position, manipulating each equilateral triangle until it formed the familiar design, with a triangular slab each at its outermost point. The moment the last stone fit into place, the triangle thus formed sank into the ground, and then began to glow, not grey, but gold.

The statue Hero lowered his sword, and Link ran up the stairs, and began to pull on the pedestal, which slid backwards easily, revealing a hole to the basement. Stairs—two flights, one right next to the other—led down into darkness. Link leapt into the gap, and then rushed down into the room below.

It looked like a temple down here. There were intricate stained glass windows, more lifelike than many portraits he had seen; they might have been pictographs, but for their more vivid colour. And, the walls were covered in the brightly-coloured stained glass.

They comprised the walls, with a vitreous glint to them, dulled by lack of light shining through them. They must have been ethereally radiant when lit.

They surrounded a ring of seven statues, each one bearing a sword, each in turn surrounding a trapezoidal pedestal that filled him with a sense of foreboding. Sticking out of the pedestal was a sword, with blue hilt, and a design like a red eye in the centre of the crossguard.

Link climbed into the ceremonial circle of statues, feeling as if his limbs were obeying someone other than him himself. There was a sudden need to know welling up within him. The faerie ocarina seemed to hum, in his messenger satchel.

He descended the stairs leading from the circle of statues into a pool of water that ringed the dais, and approached the picture of a giant, pig-faced beast, standing before the triple triangles of the Triforce, and glared at it as hard as he might have glared at the one whom it depicted.

Next this stained glass window, to its right, was a window depicting an old man in plain brown robes, holding the Light Medallion over his head. Rauru, one of the few people in this world more long-winded than the King of Red Lions. He'd had a better guide than the King of Red Lions, too. What was her name?

Ah, yes. Navi. Navi was amazing in so many ways he could never think of how to express. He wished that she were here, with him, now. What would she make of all this?

Link, just try to keep moving forward, alright? Navi's voice echoed in his head. He shrugged, and continued on to the next window.

His chest seemed to constrict as if he had been caught in a vise that was slowly crushing him.

Saria. He reached out, and touched the window, half-convinced that his hand would meet actual flesh, but she was dead. She was long dead. His face seemed to twist into an unfamiliar shape, and he struggled not to cry.

Aryll! he thought, but, for a moment, the name was just a word to him. When he tried to picture Aryll—the owner of the name—all he could see was the girl with green hair, and clear blue eyes.

Because you're different from the rest of my friends. But that doesn't matter, because we'll be friends forever, won't we?

You don't have to explain… Because, it is destiny that you and I can't live in the same world….

That meanie! Has Mido been bullying you again?

…but if you ever want to talk about it, know that I'll listen….

It was too much, remembering Saria and Navi, the two closest things he had ever had to a mother. He turned brusquely, walking quickly, without running, to the other side of the room, following the curve of the dais, but staying in the water.

He stopped before Naburu's portrait. She looked… wrong… depicted thus. Sapped of her vitality, an image instead of a person. She was too remote, too sacrosanct. As the Sage of Spirit, she'd been fully in the thick of it, to make tough choices, but also to tease and to roughhouse. Who was this distant, expressionless woman in the glass? Looking at her, despite how little he had known her in truth, was in its own way as bad as seeing Saria, or not seeing Navi.

He turned, and started heading in the opposite direction. Here was Impa, whose hair looked grey instead of white—blame it on the lighting in this room. Her arms, like those of the other Sages, were held up above her head, as if generating the Medallion they held there. To him, Impa looked wrong when her arms weren't folded in front of her. She also looked strangely young.

The faerie ocarina continued its noiseless hum. He ignored it as best he could, continuing back around the circle. Naburu's had been the last of the stained glass windows, which had been, if only subconsciously, the reason he had stopped and turned there.

This next window was of Ruto, of course. He had to smile at the thought of how he'd neatly avoided marrying her. They'd never marry now, after all. The danger was past. She was such a controlling, demanding woman, if much more mature than the spoilt brat she had been. She would have worn him ragged, hero or not. She deserved someone who appreciated her quick tongue and harsh comments. Someone who would enjoy arguing with her.

You're looking for Princess Zelda, aren't you? You can't hide anything from me!

His eyes traveled the circumference of the room, realising that he, Sheik, and Zelda were all missing from the windows. Even Ganondorf had been here, and he could understand his own absence (he winced at the thought of the statue blocking this room from easy access or view), but Zelda? Where was she?

Hiding, he decided. Disguised as something else. It would be fitting.

He finished off his window-viewing in front of Darunia's portrait. Again too solemn, again too distant, Darunia's expression, ironically, held no warmth. But, Darunia had been far from a stranger.

He had been a companion, and family, and, occasionally, a guide through hard times and places, a pillar of strength, bulwark against evil. They'd spent a lot of time around one another, even when he had been a child. Darunia had told him many things about the gorons, Death Mountain, and bomb flowers. He'd given Link advice on the subjects of Zelda and Ruto, as Navi giggled and teased, and he'd come up with training regimens to help Link improve his skills. He'd also helped plan and scheme, and opened Link's eyes to a better understanding of the world in which he found himself. And, all of that before the gap of seven years.

Mentor, friend, brother, in the truest sense of the word. He'd had to explain what parents were, and what real siblings were, first, but he and Link had become fast friends. This, this here, this was not Darunia. Darunia wasn't even properly Darunia without his broad grin.

Link frowned, arms akimbo, looking around the room again. From the stairs leading to the dais was a bridge over water. If Zelda were hiding somewhere, it would be there. But, he was sure that, even if he found her, he would not react well. Just see how he'd reacted to Darunia and Impa!

The Master Sword glinted, beckoning him. He was standing right beside the stairs out of the water, and the Master Sword was clearly visible. He climbed the stairs back onto the dais, and cocked his head at what looked to be the actual Pedestal of Time. He was now more than a bit wary and hesitant. If he drew the sword, he wouldn't lose seven years, would he? He couldn't afford that, not with Aryll and who-knew-who-else in immediate danger. Aryll!

He still couldn't remember what she looked like, but he remembered who she was, now. Perhaps, it was the memory of discussing the idea of siblings with Darunia. Who knew?

He approached the Master Sword, slowly, reverently. It was a blade worthy of respect.

With the strangest feeling of déjà vu, he moved to stand directly before the pedestal, his feet automatically bracing themselves. He looked around at the circle of statues as he reached for the blade. They all bore swords. Would they attack?

Well, no matter. The Master Sword, after all, chose me. In a sense, I'm only reclaiming what I already possess. If they are here to deter would-be thieves, I have done no wrong. And, in this bastion, surely no evil would animate these statues to life.

He steeled himself, reaching out once more for the Blade of Evil's Bane. He grasped the hilt, and with a single tug, drawn out for the sake of the ceremony that this location seemed to enforce, the blade at last came free from its rest.

Something shifted overhead. He thought that he heard the clanking of heavy armour. A trap?

I've been waiting for you, Hero of Time.

Well done, kid! As I thought, you held the keys to the Sacred Realm.

The Master Sword was the final key to the Sacred Realm.

Link frowned, staring over at the staircase. Monsters were not terribly observant; he doubted that they realised that the staircase was here, yet, but…. Had he just made the same mistake twice?

And, why did the Master Sword seem… feeble? Dull.

He was distracted from his thoughts, as the statues, one after another, lowered their swords at him. He was ringed by swords that he had every confidence were as sharp and cutting as real swords. He wasn't sure that he dared to move. He looked around for a scabbard for the sword, and saw it hanging at one of the statue's sides. Out of reach, unless he somehow disarm the statues. Well, he couldn't leave unless he did, either. He removed Orca's sword in its scabbard with his right hand, and with his left, slung the Master Sword, unsheathed, through his bandolier.

He focused hard on the faerie ocarina, feeling the hum of its energy. He knew that there was another way to store items. He could remember it, now. He willed it into his hands, and the faerie ocarina appeared there. With an eyebrow raised at the statues, he put the ocarina to his lips, and played "Zelda's Lullaby". There was a pause, then, with complete silence save for the sound of heavy clanking above. The faerie ocarina disappeared back into his messenger bag, as he directed his thought to that goal.

Then, the statues dropped their swords, one by one, and he yanked the sheath for the Master Sword off the bandolier of the statue in front of him, carefully sheathing the Master Sword, settling the sheath in place.

The statues bowed, one after the other, and Link ducked out of their circle, picking up Orca's sword, and pulling out his messenger bag to store the sword, that he might return it to Orca when next they met.

He drew the Master Sword, that he not be unarmed when he returned into a place of probable danger, and raced back up the stairs, and the statue (don't think about that, he ordered himself, to try to avoid the inevitable slip into madness that would cause) slid back to cover the hole, and the staircase. The nearest monsters hadn't even seen him yet. Nor did the movement of the statue catch their eyes.

He drew the shield from off his back, staring at the purple crackling wall of energy that blocked the door leading back to the courtyard. His eyes narrowed, as he surveyed the room once more.

It was a large room, but teeming with moblins and darknuts. They seemed to travel in groups, two darknuts to a single moblin, or the reverse. Near where he stood was a cluster of two darknuts, and two moblins. Might as well start there. Well, what was there to wait for? What was there to fear? He had the Master Sword!

He ran around to the stairs leading down from the balcony, and, replacing the shield on his back, he willed the boomerang into his hands, throwing it at the two moblins. This would catch their attention, but the darknuts had trouble seeing, owing to the helmets obstructing their view.

Both of these darknuts had both sword and shield. He shrugged, confident that he could handle them. He had the Master Sword!

Holding the Mater Sword was a bit like having a reunion with an old friend and ally. It wasn't as if Navi had appeared, but he could hold his own without her, for a little while. Just until he found her.

She was out there somewhere…right?

He snuck around the darknuts before they noticed him, jumping to cut the ties that held the armour to their bodies. Said armour fell to the ground, exploding in a puff of black smoke, and the darknut in question—and its companion—whirled to face him.

He tried to stay out of the range of attack of the statue he had just dearmoured, but within the line of sight of the other, still armoured, darknut. The darknuts, being not terribly savvy enemies, didn't realise that he had positioned himself so that a blow from the armoured darknut in his direction would strike the unarmoured one.

Not even when the armoured one cut the helmet off his fellow himself. Link glanced over at the moblins, who were beginning to stir, and replaced the shield on his back, willing the boomerang to return to him. He threw it at them again, and then replaced the shield. The darknuts were intelligent enough to lunge at him in his moment of vulnerability, but he backflipped away from them.

He knew better than to try to block one of their blows. Instead, he repositioned himself so that the darknut who was accidentally helping him would hit his friend again.

The unarmoured darknut slashed at him, and he took the opportunity to parry, pressing aside the other's blade, and cutting the ties holding the previously helmeted darknut's helm in place.

This one had black fur, unlike the normal brown-furred darknuts. He wondered if that was significant. Come to think of it, its armour was differently coloured, too—all black and gold, instead of silver and red. Was there a darknut hierarchy?

He ducked under another blow from the helmless armoured darknut, as the other darknut exploded in black smoke. He caught the Knight's Crest with the Master Sword, as it fell, and willed it into his messenger bag. He glanced back over at the moblins, but there wasn't the time to hit them again. He parried an attack from the remaining darknut, finally cutting off the armour, and the moblins marched forwards. Their movements were too erratic, but, perhaps if he disarmed the darknut, he could finish them off before the monster retrieved its sword. It was worth a try.

Darknuts never expected parry attacks. It was as if they were unfamiliar with the move. That was why they kept trying the same moves over and over. Link shrugged to himself, as the sword went flying towards the balcony with the statue on it.

He did not react in time to prevent the spear of a moblin from piercing his side. It was low enough down that he thought he wasn't in any immediate danger, but he cursed his inattention anyway.

The darknut was running over towards the balcony. He had to finish off both moblins quickly. Perhaps, it hadn't been the best idea to start with the most populous of the monster parties, but… he had the Master Sword! He could win this, right?!

He went on a ruthless offensive, making sure to hit at least one moblin with every blow. It took four hits to kill off a single moblin, which struck him as odd. The Master Sword ought to have been much stronger than the sword that Orca had given him. Indeed, it had never taken so many blows to finish off a moblin before. Were these moblins particularly strong? But… they looked just like the moblins from Dragon Roost Cavern, even.

He felt the air move behind him, and he ducked, rolling to avoid the darknut's blow. Time to think about moblins and the Master Sword later. There were still plenty of moblins and darknuts patrolling these halls.

The next time that he managed to get under the darknut's guard, he cut off the arm holding the sword, Knight's Crest and all, grabbing the Knight's Crest, and willing it into his messenger bag even as he ducked to avoid the darknut's attempts to bash him with its shield.

He backflipped, then settled the shield on his back, because there was no use for it when the sword of a darknut would probably make it buckle into useless scrap metal. He'd save the shield for his encounters with moblins.

He slashed at the moblin. Then, the darknut moved its shield forward in an attempt to bash Link again. He reached around the shield, and cut off the other arm, and then hacked freely at the monster. Four down… only about twelve to go.

This would take a while.

He bent down to the balls of black smoke that moblins always left behind, and broke one open, relieved to find life potions within. Haha! Despite the disgusting taste, he downed as many as were hidden within, and the wound in his side healed. Now, he could continue on his quest to rid the entire room of its many monsters, absolutely none of which were anything other than darknuts or moblins.

On the plus side, this meant that there were no wizzrobes. He'd seen enough of those in Termina, alone.

But hey: he had the Master Sword! He could do this!

He didn't know how much time he spent in this endeavour, for even had he not been inside a vast, windowless hall, he was deep beneath the surface of the sea. The thrill of battle kept him from thinking about the passage of time, and he was not quite himself, anyway.

Eventually, he managed to defeat the rest of the moblins, and the darknuts, and when he had, the violet energy barriers disappeared from before both doors. Knowing that he might not have another chance to do this, he walked out of the lower door, to find himself on a walkway high over the moat. He walked along this path for a short distance before he was arrested by an invisible wall, which showed itself in patches of purple and yellow when he whacked at the very solid barrier with the Master Sword. He couldn't see it, but he could feel that it was smooth and cold, and very tall and broad, continuing even further than the span of the walkway.

It was an impassable barrier, for now, he decided, after trying everything from bashing it with the shield to throwing bombs at it. He thought he had encountered such a barrier before, somewhere, but wasn't sure if he had, or if so, where. It was only a sense of startling, if unplaceable, familiarity.

He backtracked, then, musing to himself about the nature of quests, and dungeons, and about the mysterious feebleness of the Master Sword. He was certain that the Sword was supposed to be stronger than this, and that it didn't look quite right, either. The memory of how it was supposed to look was strangely hazy, however, and it was impossible to know for sure.

He was still contemplating such matters when he emerged back into the courtyard, with its stepping-stones and stilled fountain. He saw the boat in front of him, and his head began to ache.

Part of his mind was telling him that this was the King of Red Lions, his guide, who was trying to help him rescue his sister, and the other was saying that there was something very suspicious about this stranger, and how was a boat able to speak? If it were able to speak, it ought to be judged just as the rest of cognisant beings were.

He frowned, and folded his arms once more. The boat had yet to notice him; it gave a great yawn. He wondered if he could just leave it behind and continue the quest on his own; he knew the way to the Forsaken Fortress, and Tetra seemed to be more kindly disposed to him now. But, for all he knew, the only way back to the surface was via boat. Even if it weren't, he could hardly swim to the nearest inhabited island; his body wasn't strong enough to fight the sea currents and tides for what would surely be several days' swim.

There was something oddly familiar about this boat…. He would have to keep his eye on it.

He walked back to the ring of light, and the waiting boat, pretending he was only pleased (and a bit awed) to have found and acquired the Legendary Sword

"I got the Sword!" he said, with a bright smile, and the boat smiled back, indulgent. Link maintained his cheery smile only through effort of will. The King of Red Lions was probably not evil, and probably deserved his gratitude and respect, for leading him here, if nothing else, but his behaviour was often rather off-putting.

"Very well done," said the boat, with evident distraction. "Now climb inside, and we will enter the ring of light that will return us to the world above."

Link frowned, and tried to sound as if he did not much care about the answer when he asked, "That ring of light—is it always there? Can we come back here again?"

The boat half-turned back to look at him, but settled for continuing to glide ahead.

"The path will open as the goddesses see fit," he said, which probably meant that the King of Red Lions opened the way somehow. Link frowned, but continued to stare straight ahead, trying to think of anything, something to talk about rather than remembering what had happened inside those walls, and returning to the question that he had already asked himself several times within: just who am I?