The Legend of Zelda: Reconciliation
Hey all!
First off, sorry for the short chapter. Only 13 pages, but it's taken me forever to get this far and it's not fair to keep you waiting. Sorry for the delays. This summer's been brutal on just about every front from weather to work, but we're half-way through it and I suppose that counts for something.
As per usual, thanks so much for your patience and for putting up with me. :-P I'll see what I can do about getting the next chapter out quicker, but (also as per usual) no promises, as there are some things I just can't help.
I have been asked once or twice in the past about whether I have any originals. I never really answered, because I only had one and I wrote it a loooong time ago and I have mixed feelings about it. However consider this an answer now, as I've recently posted up a couple chapters of an original on so yes, I do have original(s). There's a link to my account on fictionpress in my profile. That is the last you will hear from me on the subject here. :-)
I'm sure there were a million other things I wanted to say/apologize for/warn you about, but my brain is fried and I'm terrified my boss is going to run in an ask me where my briefing notes are and I'd really better get back to work.
Thanks again, folks! As always, I hope you enjoy the read and it was worth the wait!
Rose Zemlya
"Mirrors on the ceiling, pink champagne on ice,
And she said 'We are all just prisoners here of our own device.'
And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast,
They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast.
Next thing I remember, I was running for the door,
I had to find a passage back to the place I was before:
'Relax', said the night-man, 'we are programmed to receive,
You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.'"
The Eagles, "Hotel California"
"Afterward, the seven hundred people in the boats had nothing to do but wait … wait to die … wait to live … wait for an absolution that would never come…"
Rose, "Titanic"
I suppose I should no longer be surprised by the sudden shift from blinding pain at twilight, to groggy dull aches at dawn. I force my eyes open and stare blearily out through thick brownish green undergrowth, flecked here and there with red, trying valiantly to blink things back into focus.
It's cold out. The undergrowth ripples with a stiff breeze that feels more like fall than anything else. I numbly move my hand to rub at my face. Looks like the seasons are about as stationary here as everything else, and I mean that as sarcastically as I can possibly mean that.
Fall is a good season for this place though. Everything here is in a constant state of dying, with no hope of any kind of actual end in sight.
It's a dreary, depressing thought, and I'm not sure I want to explore it much deeper than that at the moment.
I push myself to my knees with a groan, swaying for a moment as a wave of dizziness hits me. On the upside, I don't seem to be in too rough of a shape. A cut on my arm, a sting in my cheek, but otherwise whole and intact. I cast a look around at my surroundings.
Now if only I knew where I was, or how far from Anduriel's …
At least they're safe, I tell myself, trying to bolster my spirits as I climb to my feet, at least Laruto is safe. Just think about how happy Acqul and Ruto will be. Ruto will probably cry like a baby and strangle Laruto to death with her hugs, and Acqul probably won't be so tough about it either. All I gotta do is find a portal back, that's all. Simple enough. Just find a portal.
In this area I know nothing about …
On this plane I know nothing about …
And then somehow get Laruto to it without turning into a monster and devouring her piecemeal … I close my eyes and squeeze the bridge of my nose, forcing my thoughts away from the image.
Just find a portal. Deal with the rest as it comes.
It's as good a plan as I come up with at this point, anyway, so I may as well go with it. It can be number one on my to-do list:
One, find a portal, get Laruto through it.
Two, free the maidens, either get them home or enlist their help.
Three, ruin Ganon's plans for world domination yet again, and don't forget to laugh while you're doing it. He loves that.
Easy enough. All I need to do is get started.
I fidget and look around again.
The only question now is, which way? My surroundings offer no answer. I'm surrounded by a thick ring of trees – trunks so dark they're almost black, twisted around themselves and each other, but at least they don't have faces. The part of me that is, and will always be Kokiri twists in pain at how tortured they look, but at least they're tortured trees and not some weird hybrid of trees and people which is wrong on more levels than I care to count.
There's no way of even really telling which way is north, not that the information would serve me at all. Great, so I know where north, south, east and west are. Still don't know where I'm going, or what I'm going to do when I get there.
"Farore," I say with a sigh, scratching my head. "What the Hell am I supposed to—?" Something moves out of the corner of my eye and I cut myself off and twist to face it, but it's gone again. I freeze and scan the trees for any sight of whatever it was. "Hello?" I call. "Is anyone out—"
There it is again. I twist back around but as before there's nothing to be seen. I make a face. "What the Hell?" A sound, behind me, like a voice from far away. I whirl around again but there's still nothing here. I grind my teeth together in irritation.
"You'd better just show yourself, whoever you are," I growl, "because I'm not in the mood for games." The motion behind me again, but instead of turning to look I mutter darkly to myself and reach into my pouch. "You wanna play games, you bastard?" I grumble. "We'll see how much fun you're having once I can actually see you." It takes me a moment of rummaging – haven't used the damn thing in forever, almost forgot I had it as a matter of fact – but eventually I manage to triumphantly extricate the object I'm looking for from the pouch and flip it around in an unnecessary display of dexterity so I'm gripping it's "handle" in my hand. "You see this?" I call, holding up the creepy looking tool for whatever it is to see. "It's a Sheikan artefact. They call it the Lens of Truth, you know why?" I turn slowly, waiting to see if it appears. "Because when I turn it on, whatever cloaking spell or device you're using will be worth less than sanity in this miserable place. I'm giving you a chance, here, to show yourself before I make you show yourself. What happens after that…" I shrug nonchalantly. "Who knows?" There's the motion again, but as per usual, there's nothing there when I turn around.
"Fine," I say flatly. "I gave you your chance." I hold up the Lens and open myself up to its power, letting it draw off my own to activate it. A brief series of ever quickening flashes erupts from the lens until they've steadied into a solid glow. The world takes on a bit of a haze as the tangible parts of it blur, just slightly, and everything else comes into sharper focus.
And there's a lot more than I thought I'd see.
I stumble back a step in shock.
Wandering in and out of the trees (sometimes in a very literal fashion) are several transparent spectres. They don't appear to notice me at all, and haven't acknowledged my startled gasp. They're faces are in different stages of panic and they stumble about in an almost desperate fashion, as though they're lost.
But worse yet … I recognize two of them, from a long time ago, back when I still thought I was a Kokiri – a Goron and the Hylian (thought I suppose he could be a non-uniformed Sheikah).
When I was about eight or so they'd come through Kokiri's Village and made a general nuisance of themselves. They'd bragged about how they were going to beat the Lost Woods, and how they were the greatest explorers ever. They'd gotten it into their heads that there was some kind of treasure to be had if you could find it and they were going to be the ones to find it. We tried to warn them off, like we did with everyone who wandered into the woods, either on purpose or by accident, but they wouldn't listen. They never do. How many adults do you know take seriously warnings delivered from children? So off they went and we never saw them again.
The Lost Woods protect themselves, and they protect the Kokiri, and part of that protection involves the fierce deterrence of any interlopers. Outsiders are not welcome without specific exemptions, and those two hadn't even bothered to present themselves to the Great Deku Tree, let alone ask permission to traipse through the Woods. Most of the people who go in manage to find themselves a Lost Door out (or more appropriately are given the option). Of those, a lot of them are arrogant enough to ignore the options. What happens to them after that is up to the Lost Woods. In general, they disappear. It's been suggested that unless you know how to navigate it – and the simple fact of the matter is that unless you're a Kokiri, or an exception like myself you can't possibly know how to navigate it – you could wander in the Lost Woods forever, assuming you weren't eaten by a Wolfos, or attacked by an angry Skull Kid, or any of the other dangers of the Woods.
But no one lives forever, and with a startling burst of clarity I realize that what I'm seeing are ghosts. The ghosts of those men (and others) who wandered into the Lost Woods that day. They never did make it out. Stalchildren don't need souls, just bodies, and this must be where they wound up after they'd died … I suppose it makes sense, this was the Sacred Realm …
As I stare at them I realize that they're still lost … they've likely been wandering through these Goddess forsaken woods since the day they die.
I'm move to shout out at them, to try to get their attention, but the next instant another transparent (nearly invisible as a matter of fact) face imposes itself in my view, close up, and I cry out in surprise instead, stumbling backwards frantically. The two wanderers still don't react, but this new spectre is staring straight at me – she can see me – her face soaked in weary tears, hands clasped in a pleading gesture in front of her. She moves towards me and I back up hastily, but I hit a root with my heel and fall to the ground with a gasp, losing my grip on the Lens of Truth. The spectres disappear and the haze leaves the world.
"Nayru, Farore, and Din," I whisper weakly, not bothering to pick myself up. "What the Hell is going on?" I close my eyes and behind my eyelids I can still see her. She looked … miserable. Weak, and sickly, and miserable. She looks familiar, somehow, too. Something in her face …
I gasp again, my eyes snapping open.
No.
There's no way.
She can't be …
I scramble back up to my hands and knees. The motion at the corner of my sight is back, faster and more frantic this time. I hurriedly scan the ground for the Lens of Truth, wracking my memory for some confirmation or denial of my suspicions.
Bruiser had a painting … Hunter showed it to me once, when he was out … said Bruiser kept it hidden because it still hurt him sometimes to look at it, and Bruiser had always been a private man. Hunter was less affected, though … he'd been so young when she'd died he didn't really remember her. He just liked to look at the painting and know that she'd existed ….
But she'd died in the Sheikah Caverns, not here.
What's she doing all the way out here?
I snatch the Lens out from under a bush and frantically brush the dirt off of it.
"No way," I mutter, grabbing its handle and opening myself up to it. "There's no way." The Lens flashes again, and this time the woman is waiting when the haze sets in. She meets my gaze through her tears and tilts her head in an unspoken question. I shake my head slowly, trying to digest exactly what is I'm seeing.
Her cheeks are gaunter, her hair flatter, and she looks how she must have when she died – a pale shadow, really, of the woman in the painting. I feel my heart clench, suddenly, at the thought of what Bruiser must have gone through when she died – even what she, herself, must have gone through. I can just barely hear her crying, still like it's from far away.
"What is it?" I whisper. "What do you want?" She gestures, clutches at something around her neck – but there's nothing there. I shake my head. "I don't understand," I tell her. "Can't you speak?" She answers by making the gesture again. I try a different tack. "Are you Aeria? Aeria of the Sheikah?" Her eyes flicker briefly with something that might be recognition, but that's all. She makes the gesture again and then points to her left. I look and see nothing but more trees. "You are, aren't you?" I ask her, still not understanding what she wants. "You're Hunter's mum." That gets a reaction from her. Her eyes brighten and she makes the gesture again, more enthusiastically, then points once more to her left. I feel my breath leave me in a rush.
"This has something to do with Hunter, doesn't it? That's what you're trying to tell me? Hunter is that way?" I point in the same direction she had been. Her face lights up and an expression of such passionate relief overtakes her that I feel a weight I hadn't notice lift from my chest. She makes the gesture again, which I still don't understand, but I think I've got enough.
"All right," I say. "All right, I'll go that way. Thank you." She smiles at me through her tear-stained face and vanishes. I release my hold on the Lens of Truth and shove it back into my pouch.
Finally, something has gone—
"Damn straight you're going that way," says a cold voice from behind me. I whirl around again, my hand rocketing over my shoulder for the Master Sword – I know a threat when I hear one. "But not for whatever reason you think you are." I freeze before I draw the sword. There's an arrow pointed straight at me at point-blank range. I'd never get it out in time.
Check him out, says a snide, mocking voice inside my head, how come he's so special he gets to be normal, huh? That's what I want to know.
"I don't care why he's normal," growls the original speaker, who's face is buried beneath the shadows of his cowl, "all I care about is that the Cleric wants him. And what the Cleric wants, he gets." I eye him coolly.
"And who, might I ask, is the Cleric?" I say flatly. "Because you can tell him I don't appreciate invitations delivered at arrow point."
Who's the Cleric! The mental voice starts laughing hysterically. Get a load of this kid, will you? Who's the Cleric! Ah ha ha ha ha—
"Shut up," snaps the original speaker. I frown and cast a wary glance around.
"Where is that voice—"
"The bow, kid, he's the bow," snaps the speaker. "Now be a nice little freak and let go of that pretty little toy of yours and put your hands over your head."
"Why don't you take off that cowl and we'll see who the freak is," I respond flatly, not moving a muscle.
"I'm losing my patience," he hisses. "The Cleric wants you alive but I haven't eaten all day and you're starting to look good, so why don't you just—" He never gets to finish his request, because in that instant I've dropped to a hand and lashed out at his ankles with a foot. He fires the bow as he falls – the arrow flying well over my head – and starts swearing before he's hit the ground, which is fine, because I'm on top of him the instant he hits the ground and it's all downhill for him from there.
I rip the bow out of his hands, ignoring it's frantic, frightened screams as I take it and crack it against a tree as hard as I can. I don't break it right in half, but I come close and it's frightened screams turn into miserable wails.
I'm broken! It cries. Oh no! I'm broken! Who's going to fix me!
The other guy is trying to get to his feet, but before he even manages to get fully into a seated position he's staring at the tip of the Master Sword and I glower angrily at him from over its edge.
"Let's play a new game," I say flatly, dangerously, "it's called, tell me what I want to know and I don't smash your face in." I narrow my eyes. "And I assure you I'm not as 'normal' as I may look."
xxx
So apparently the Dark World is not limited in its choices of alternate forms to animalistic ones. Even though Kiki is a monkey, and I'm some type of animal at night, those two were different. The one was a weapon, and the other yet another mythological creature – a vampire this time. One more thing that's not supposed to exist, and I don't even want to know what the guy did back in the real world to deserve that form here. Maybe it's the beast in me, but I didn't feel bad at all taking his cloak and leaving him to moan and cover his exposed face from what little bit of sunlight manages to sift down through the foliage in those woods.
Those woods which correspond – if I'm not mistaken – with the approximate location of the Lost Woods in Hyrule. As does the town they claimed I'd find an hour or two in the direction that Aeria's ghost had wanted me to travel – and in the same direction and approximate distance you'd find Kakriko if you walked from the Lost Woods to the little village.
And that's not all they had to say. Apparently Hyrule isn't the only place where I'm a wanted man. Somehow, without ever having been here, this little town is out for my blood as well. There aren't even any charges or accusations: just the edict of some man known only as the Cleric. He's labelled me the Apostate and has demanded that I be brought before him alive so that I can face the God I've offended so horribly.
I've been called a lot of things in my life, but Apostate is new.
And last I heard there were no Gods here in the Dark World. No "God"s, period.
Everybody knows that the deities are feminine.
I am very interested, indeed, in meeting this Cleric and telling him exactly what I think of him and his religion. He's been promising the people in this town redemption if they follow him and worship his God. The two back in the woods believed it at least. Claimed they've seen it with their own eyes. I told them flat out that they were being idiots. I haven't been here a week yet and I know that there's no truth in this place. Not if it gives you hope. Whoever this Cleric is, he's a fool and a pawn at best, and a charlatan and a con at worst. They both stopped talking to me at that point so I just let them go.
They didn't know anything about Hunter, either, which didn't make me any happier.
I reach up and pull the cowl of my stolen cloak lower over my eyes. The vampire and the bow weren't much of a threat. I think it was pure luck they happened upon me as they did, and I get the distinct impression the vampire isn't of much use in the day. At night he may be tougher, but then, who cares?
So am I.
The rest of the village, though …
As near as I can figure it, most of the people (or the things that used to be people) here in the Dark World are ex-adventurers and explorers of one type or another. Although some of them likely stumbled in here practically by accident before the seals went up, most of them came in here seeking the Triforce, and they're the ones I need to worry about. They'll have some kind of combat experience if nothing else and that could be a problem. They're also the ones who would have had the survival sense to form a group and stay in one place to fortify their position. It'll be impossible to tell until I see the place and the people, but I'm going to have to be very, very careful.
I've also decided that I need to get in to see the Cleric. I have to. I don't believe for a second he's any kind of real priest, but if he really does have a way to get people back to Hyrule, or to change them back into their original form like the two back in the woods said … maybe he's hiding a portal, or maybe he's just a tricky old mage, but one way or another, I need to know for sure.
It's a long walk, but there's nothing for it. It'll probably take me 'till midday, and that doesn't leave me much time before the sun goes down to find anything out. Maybe I'll just check the place out today, and then hide in the woods until tomorrow morning. I can't let the beast get loose in a town, no matter how awful the people who live there might be.
Maybe I can—
"Hey!" The voice cuts through my reverie and I grind my teeth. I haven't got time for this. I slow to a stop and cast a wary look back over my shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?"
For Nayru's sake, is everyone in the Dark World a highway robber?
The woman behind me appears to be some kind of anthropomorphic rodent of some kind, with an elongated mouth and nose, and beady little black eyes. Judging by her tone and posture, I'm going to guess she's supposed to be a shrew. Of particular prominence in her shabby attire is a badge on her arm, decorated with a carefully stitched cat face. I narrow my eyes and turn to face her fully.
"I heard there was a town in this area," I answer her. "And last I checked that's where I was headed."
"Why?" She demands, fondling one of the many knives she's wearing. "You think you can get redeemed? Think again, boy, there's people been there for years, waiting for their turn. 'Sides, everyone knows the Cleric's just a hack."
"I'll judge that for myself thanks."
"I'm thinking maybe you won't," she says, lips curling back to reveal a mouth full of tiny, sharp teeth. "I'm thinking maybe you'll be coming with me."
"I'm thinking maybe you've got 'till the count of three to leave me alone."
"Or what?" She demands. "You'll hurt me with your big, scary sword? What you think you're hiding with that hood, boy? I see in the dark. I know who you are."
"Oh really," I say, unimpressed. "Enlighten me."
"You're that brat everyone's in a frenzy looking for. And the way I figures it, if they want you, then the Cleric wants you. And if the Cleric wants you, then Blind wants you first." I raise a hand to my head and pinch the bridge of my nose for a moment, fighting off a sudden headache.
"Listen," I say flatly, "I don't care who wants me, I'm not going anywhere with anyone. I'm sort of on a tight timeline here, and I haven't got time to be messing around with you, so if you're going to try something then try it so I can kick your ass and we can both get on with our days."
"Oi," says the Shrew. "Kid thinks he's something. What do you think, Duthie?"
Before I can even register that she's talking to someone behind me, something sharp and small stings at my neck. I hiss and start to turn to face whoever's behind me, but all I see is a long, narrow claw extricating itself from my skin and a second cat badge on the arm attached to the claw, before my knees start to buckle.
I'm unconscious before I hit the ground.
xxx
"You know," says a mildly disappointed voice somewhere to my right. It's hard to focus on it. I'm groggy and disoriented, "I was expecting so much more of the Hero of Time." The title is enough to jolt me back a little further towards coherence.
"What …?" I move to clutch at my head with a hand, but suddenly find that they're tied quite firmly behind my back. A quick shifting of my feet finds my ankles in a similar situation. I can feel my face dissolve into a scowl.
Goddess dammit.
This apparently amuses my "host" because he laughs shortly.
"Not bad, eh? You wouldn't think it because of his claws, but Duthie's mean with knots when push comes to shove." I twist onto my side so I can peer up at the man talking to me. He's leaning forward onto his knees on the simple wooden chair beside where I'm laying. If he stood up he'd tower over me, but he's skinnier – lanky's a good word for him. Every inch of him is covered by a simple set of black leathers, and he wears a variety of knives, a couple of swords, and a whip at his hip for good measure. I can't see his face, as he's got it hidden behind a stylized mask shaped like a cat's face – the same cat that was on the badges of the two people who attacked me.
What catches my attention isn't what's odd about him, though. It's what's familiar.
Dangling from his neck on a delicate golden chain is a tiny charm shaped like the symbol of the Sheikah. I narrow my eyes at it.
"I see you passed your Quisros," I say pointedly, turning my attention back up to his mask. "I bet it had nothing on mine." His only reaction is to tense up for a moment, his hands giving a barely visible twitch as though he means to shove the little bauble back under his shirt where he likely keeps it, but he thinks better of it at the last minute.
"You? A Sheikah?" The mask moves as though looking me up and done. "No offence, kid, but you look more like a Hylian than anything else."
"So I'm told," I reply, "but seeing as I'm not feeling the weight of my weapons or even my pouch, I'll assume you went through my things while I was out. You don't really look like the type to have had any respect for things of sentimental value, so I've no doubt you've seen my own version of that necklace."
"So what, you were a chosen?"
"I am a blood," I answer flatly, emphasizing the present tense. "And you're a Sheikah too if I'm not mistaken."
"I was a chosen," he answers, mimicking my emphasis of the tense. He grabs the necklace at last and shoves it back under his shirt. "But we're none of us what we were, kid. Not anymore. I don't know how long you've been here, but you must have learned that by now. It's the first law of the Dark World: nothing is as it was, and nothing is as it seems." I heave an irritated sigh.
"Look," I say, "can we just skip to the part where you tell me what's going on?"
"Well golly-gosh-darn-it, aren't we impatient," the man notes with a sardonic tone. "What's the rush, kid? You're not going anywhere for a while, you may as well get comfortable." He leans back in his chair and drapes one arm over the back of it. "My name is Blind. Previously of the Sheikah, as you guessed, though few know it, and even fewer care. That little tidbit of information will prove quite useless here." I raise an eyebrow at him.
"My name is Link, my heritage is more complicated than I care to explain right now, but it matters less than your own no matter where I am." I regard him coolly. "Hero of Time, at your service." I give him a dull look. "I'd get up to shake your hand, but I'm a little … preoccupied at the moment."
"The Hero of Time," he muses. "You're what, kid? Nineteen?"
"Twenty-one," I respond darkly. "And a half."
"Hmm," he says, thoughtful. "I never knew you then. You were born after I left." I frown at him.
"This matters because…"
"It doesn't," Blind responds, waving it off as unimportant. "Just a random tidbit of interest to me for personal reasons." There's a momentary lull in the conversation, and for a minute he looks as though he wants to ask me something – he's hungry for something I know. He even goes so far as to open his mouth, but at the last second a cold, dead look crosses over his face and he closes his mouth again.
I know that look. I recognize it.
It's the same reason I'm having trouble touching my heart of hearts.
This place sucks the life out of everyone it touches.
I decide, half out of sympathy, that a change of subject is in order.
"So why in Farore's name did you send those people to kidnap me?" He cocks his head at the unexpected mercy, then shrugs, almost gratefully.
"Kidnapping is such a strong word," he says. "It implies there's someone out there who misses you. No, what I've done is more like … appropriation. See, everything that comes into this area belongs to one of two people: myself, or the Cleric. We don't much like each other, he and I." He gestures. "I say he's a no-good charlatan, feeding off of peoples hopes and dreams and foolishness, and he says I'm a no-good thief, and a ruffian, who feeds off of people's hard work and determination, with no respect for what they're trying to accomplish, which, in my opinion is jack – but that's the crux of our argument after all."
"Sounds like you're both assholes to me," I say plainly. He raises an eyebrow at me.
"You're pretty mouthy for someone who's all tied up," he points out. "Do you even realize how serious a situation you're in, kid?" I surprise both myself and him by laughing suddenly.
"What?" I demand. "You mean this!" I nod my head at the stone room and wiggle my bonds. "You think this is serious? Do you have any idea what I've been through over the last month? Do you have any idea what I've been through over the last three days?" I laugh again, almost hysterically. "Serious, he says! Ha!" I narrow my eyes at him. "You don't know the meaning of the word."
"That's where you're wrong, kid," he says darkly. "I think I'm the only one in this room who does."
"Why don't you just kill me," I demand flatly. "Because truth be told, I'm kind of tired of talking, so unless you have some other purpose for me…"
"Now why would I want to kill you?" He demands. "Do you know how valuable you are, right now? Even without people realizing that you're the Hero of Time. The Cleric wants you, and until I find out why, and how to exploit that to my advantage, you'll have to be content to continue breathing I'm afraid."
"It's probably only fair to warn you that I'm not the easiest pawn to control."
"It's probably only fair to warn you that I don't give a damn." He gets to his feet. "Get some sleep, kid. You look like you need it. I'll be back in an hour or two once night falls and maybe we'll chat again." My blood runs cold and I go rigid.
Damn.
Nightfall.
"Hey!" I say as he turns away. "Blake!"
"It's Blind, kid. My name is Blind."
"Whatever," I say flatly. "Listen, are there other people here?"
"Where?"
"Here," I say impatiently. "In this place. Where ever this is."
"Plenty of them," he says. "So don't even think about trying to escape."
"Come nightfall," I say flatly, "escape will be the last thing on my mind. You need to let me go." Blind scoffs and turns to face me fully.
"Oh this oughta be good," he says, leaning back against the wall. "I've got to let you go, do I?"
"Listen to me," I all but snarl, "did it never strike you as odd that I haven't turned into anything like the rest of you? Why do you wear that mask, Blind? It's not because you look like you did before you came here." One hand twitches again, as though to move up and touch his mask, but he controls the urge.
"What's your point?" He demands, a dangerous note in his voice.
"I'm not as normal as I might look," I tell him. "Come nightfall I'm going have a lot more teeth, and a lot less control." Blind studies me for a long moment, and I spend the time cursing his mask. I can't see his face; can't judge his expressions. At last he shakes his head.
"Nice try, kid," he says. "I almost believed you there, but I'm calling your bluff. You're the Hero of Time. You're immune like the Maidens are. And I assure you, every last one of us who's trapped here hates you for it. Go to sleep. I'll see you in a couple hours."
"Blind! I'm not—" he shuts the door "—bluffing," I finish hopelessly. I close my eyes and gnash my teeth.
Great. Just great. Captured, tied up, locked in, and in a couple hours I'm going to turn into a homicidal monster and we'll see how much of a difference these ropes and that door makes then.
I have to get out of here. Stupid bastard won't believe me 'till it's too late, but I can't let it get too late. I have to act now, while I can.
But how?
I exhale loudly and drop my head limply to the side, staring listlessly at my "room". I think I could handle the ropes. It'll take me a while, but one of the first things Nabooru taught me as a Gerudo is the art of escape. As a Gerudo, she said, you'll spend an inordinate amount of time fleeing pursuit of one type or another. It's embarrassing enough if they catch you, but doubly so if they can keep you. Any Gerudo worth her (or his) salt can get out of most rope bonds, and even a good number of metal ones. But what does that get me? Even if I did somehow manage to get out of the ropes binding me, I have no way to get out of the room. No weapons, no allies, no anything. I sigh bitterly and narrow my eyes at the object of my frustration.
It's me versus a wooden door, and the door is winning before we've even started.
There's got to be a way … there's got to something I can do to get through that door ….
The hinges are on the outside and inaccessible to me, I'm not strong enough to knock it down, and that'll just give whatever guards are outside enough time to prepare a defence against me even if I could, and I can't hack it to pieces without a weapon.
So what—. My train of thought derails abruptly, a sudden, obvious, totally irresponsible solution occurs to me that makes me grin, wide and humourless.
The Dark World may be able to suck the joy and hope out of every fibre of your being, I reflect as I begin to twist and wrench my body into unnatural positions to try and get my arms in front of me instead of behind me, but there's a certain, simple pleasure in setting something on fire that not even it can take away.
Din, I think to myself with a muffled grunt as I twist something in my shoulder horribly, is definitely my favourite Goddess.
It takes me about two minutes of wriggling, writhing and wrenching, but I finally manage to force my arms over and around my feet so that they're in front of me. I fall limp for a moment, panting. I'd like to think that Nabooru would be proud of me, but she'd complain about how long I took, and the fact that I'm out of breath, and generally conclude that I'm a pitiful Gerudo all told.
She'd win the argument too, because I'd be too out of breath to do anything about it.
Unfortunately I don't have that luxury right now.
I roll over onto my side and bring my wrists up to my mouth. I start pulling at the foul-tasting knot with my teeth. It's too bad Din's Fire has that protective area that keeps it from burning me and whatever's close to me, or I'd just burn the ropes off too.
I pause in my gnawing – I can't believe I just said that – then abruptly shrug and start working at the knots again with renewed enthusiasm.
The depression that permeated my mood earlier today seems to have dissipated almost entirely with the promise of some kind of action. I'm still feeling grim, make no mistake about that. That's settled itself into my bones and I doubt I'll ever be able to extricate it, but it's almost a grim satisfaction now.
That son of a bitch thought he had me. Thought his rope and his door and his stone room could hold me. Nothing can hold me. Especially not some nobody Sheikah who fancies himself a rebel. Serious situation. Ha! I'll show him a serious situation.
One last, savage yank and I feel the ropes around my wrists loosen. I force myself into a seated position, ignoring the twinge in my shoulder as I do so, and start undoing my feet. Who cares if my shoulder's pulled. It'll only be a couple hours 'till I'm the Beast anyway – I can feel the moon pulling at me – and then it won't hurt anymore. Insta-heal. And then, once I've changed I can find Blind and show him just how—
I jerk myself up straight as though burned the instant I realize where my thoughts had been going. The Beast's presence, which I hadn't notice sneaking up on me, slides smugly back to the back of my mind. I can feel my temper surge violently at the thought of what it's up to, and it takes all my effort to swallow my anger and relax my fists and jaw.
You don't fight fire with fire, I counsel myself tightly. That's what Anduriel said. You fight fire with water. You fight anger with serenity. The knots come loose much easier thanks to the gift of opposable digits and the ropes fall from my ankles. I turn my attention back up to the door. You fight wooden doors with fire. I get to my feet, but am unable to stop the next question in the sequence.
But what do you fight a beast with?
I shake my head violently as I move around the cell for a moment, stretching my legs. Don't want to think about this. I just want to get out of here before I do something I regret. Before it makes me do something I'll regret.
Anything I do, the Beast's presence reminds me, is something you're capable of. That's the point.
I ignore it and finally halt my pacing in front of the door.
Let's do this.
"Din's … FIRE!"
The familiar ring of fire explodes outwards, igniting the little wooden chair and the little wooden door before dissipating off the stone walls. Through the crumbling coals and ash that is rapidly looking less and less like a door I meet the started gazes of Shrew Woman and Claw Man. They're seated at a table in the centre of the room outside my "cell" with a deck of cards on the table in front of them, and a few clutched in their hands (or carefully in the long, thing claws extending off of Claw Man's fingers). On the table beside the cards is a pile of what is definitely my stuff.
If I didn't know better, I'd say they were gambling for it.
This does not improve my mood.
The door finally crumbles and I leap through it at the same time as Shrew Woman and Claw Man leap to their feet, their cards falling forgotten around them.
"Didn't know you was a mage," Shrew Woman says, ripping a hand crossbow off her hip and pointing it at me. "Woulda gagged you."
"If it makes you feel any better," I say glibly, skidding to a stop as she raises the crossbow, "I can feel my gag reflex kicking in just looking at you." Claw Man – this must be Duthie – moves to flank me, claws twitching almost hungrily. "Also, I'm not a mage. Please, haven't got the patience for that."
"You burn through a door in a heartbeat and expect us to believe you're not a mage?" Duthie demands in a hoarse, hissing voice. Sounds painful for him to talk.
"If I've learned one thing in the half hour since I woke up in here, it's that you guys don't really believe much of anything. But that doesn't matter to me. Believe what you want, I know who I am."
"Oh? And who are—Din's blood!" I throw myself forward before she can finish her sentence. I smash my hand into her crossbow just as she fires it, throwing the bolt wild. She's faster than I gave her credit for, though, because almost before I've even recovered from hitting the crossbow, she's pulled a knife from nowhere and is slashing at me with it. I duck under her swing and lash out with a hand, grabbing her wrist and twisting. She rolls with it, dropping the knife, but managing to break my hold and position herself behind me, which is just fine with me, because it leaves me an open shot at the table. Instead of whirling to meet her next slash I throw myself forward, dodging her blow and lunging for my gear.
Duthie gets their first, swiping my stuff off the table and onto the floor with a sweep of his hand, and then turning to face me as my fingers come just short of my sword. I throw myself backwards, just barely saving my chest from his claws, and scowl at him.
"If any of that is broken, you're dead meat," I say flatly.
"It's not yours anyway," he responds, pointing with one, long claw at the Master Sword. "Who did you steal that from?"
"I didn't steal it, it's mine."
"That's bullshit, boy. That sword belongs to the Hero of Time." He lunges at me without waiting for a response and I'm suddenly concerning myself with keeping away from his claws for three, very important reasons:
One, I'm pretty sure they're poisonous. That would be why I spontaneously dropped unconscious.
Two, the last time I smelled blood I went psycho thanks to the Beast. I don't think it'll care whether the blood is his or mine.
And three, they're claws, man. Sharp ones.
So I duck and weave and dodge, and try to do it in the general direction of my things, all while keeping an eye of Shrew Woman who would no doubt like nothing better than an opportunity to stab me in the back. Unfortunately, Duthie is not of a mind to let me arm myself and I'm starting to feel more desperate. They're working me slowly back towards the room I came from, and the next time they lock me up they'll be a lot more careful about it. I can't afford that.
"That's it Duthie, get him back in there," crows Shrew Woman. "Little brat. Thinks he's special 'cause he's normal. Show him what being normal amounts to around here."
There has got to be a non-violent way out of this.
Dammit …
If I could just get at my sword, maybe I could intimidate them. There's nothing frightening about an unarmed man. Especially one that won't hit you.
"Blind doesn't want you dead, kid," Duthie hisses. "Get back in your cell before I have to disobey orders."
"You used to be a Sheikah," I say, stalling. I'm getting closer to the door, he keeps herding me back that way.
"Oh yeah? How do you know?"
"You recognized the Master Sword on sight. You knew it belongs to the Hero of Time. You seem to consider yourself an expert on the subject. The Sheikah are the only race with extensive legends about the Hero."
"But not the only race who study them," Shrew Woman pipes up with a smug smirk. "Duthie was a historian."
"Mind your business, Wandi," Duthie hisses sharply. "You know what Blind says. Who you were doesn't matter."
"Not even when it's a part of who you are?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. I'm at the door to the cell now. One more slash and I'll be inside the room again. Gotta stall, gotta stall, gotta stall …. "History … knowledge isn't something that leaves you just because you're here. You still know the legends of the Hero of Time. You still know about the Master Sword."
"And what good does that knowledge do me?" Duthie hisses, pausing in his assault to scowl, revealing a mouth filled to the brim with rows of jagged, razor sharp teeth. There! That's it! This is a weak spot. Gotta find a way to press home the advantage …. "Here, where none of it matters?"
"It can stop you from making a mistake," I say cautiously. "I'm not bluffing when I tell you I'm the Hero of Time. That sword is my sword. I didn't steal it."
"Like I'm going to believe—"
"I pulled it out of one of the Pedestals of Time at the Temple of Time. I can use it to travel back and forth in Time. I have the Ocarina of Time. Half of the magic items I own end in the word Time!" Duthie frowns.
"You're a Shiekah," he says. "I saw your necklace. Any Sheikah knows of the legends. You're just using your knowledge to put together a plausible—"
"Is there a reason you haven't locked him in yet?" Wandi demands impatiently. "What if Blind comes back?"
"I can prove it," I say, ignoring her. "Give me the sword. I can prove that I'm the Hero of Time. I can do something with it that no one else could. I can access it's powers." Duthie blinks, his frown growing uncertain.
"Give you a sword?" He says. "Sounds like a fools gambit to me."
"What's the matter?" I demand coldly. "Afraid it might be true?"
"Why would I be afraid?" Duthie hisses at me. "Even if you are the Hero of Time, why does it matter? Why are you here?" I scowl at him.
"I'm here because a son of a bitch took some people who were very important to me and imprisoned them here, then did the same thing to me. I'm here because if I don't rescue them, Hyrule is in what you might consider dire straits. I'm here because I can't go home." I pause and take a deep breath, struggling to keep control of my emotions. "I'm not here because I want to be, Duthie. Any more than you do. I'm here because I was a fool, as usual, and fell for a black wizard's cheap trick. And now I have to do what I can to meet my job requirements as Hero of Time." I narrow my eyes. "And if I have to go through you to do so, so be it." Wandi laughs, harsh and grating.
"Kid thinks he's special!" She snorts. "Lookit 'im. Standing there all righteous. Like he's better'n us. Feh. I don't know why we got to keep him alive, any way."
"Because Blind said so, Wandi," Duthie snaps, never releasing my gaze. "So you're the Hero of Time, but you're here by accident."
"Why would anyone come here on purpose?"
"The Light World isn't all there is to Hyrule, kid," Duthie says in his hissing voice. I get the distinct feeling I've disappointed him somehow. "The Hero of Time would know that." I frown at him.
"What?" I demand. "What are you talking about?"
"Haven't you realized yet that this place mirrors the Light World?" He demands. "Do you know where you are? You're standing in what, in the Light World, are the Sheikah Caverns. The paths don't necessarily match up, the rooms may not be in the same places, but these tunnels and caves are. We're right beneath the Cleric's village, which is in the same spot in the Dark World—"
"As Kakariko in the Light," I finish, my eyes going wide. "Which explains why the forest here was in the same direction from the town as the Lost Woods from Kakariko." A little flame of hope flickers valiantly in my chest. "But that's fantastic! I'm not half as lost as I thought I was! If the Dark World parallels…."
"It doesn't parallel," Duthie interrupts. "It overlaps. Any Sheikah over the age of twelve knows that. Did you steal your Quisros charm as well as the Master Sword?"
"I … haven't exactly had a standard upbringing," I say. "I didn't even find out I was a Sheikah until a few years ago." Duthie looks unimpressed.
"I suppose you were raised by Kokiri, hmm?" He asks, eyeing my tunic and hat. I scowl at him.
"As a matter of fact, I was," I say. "Until I was 11. Then I was raised as a Hylian. Until I was 17. Everything gets weird after that."
"Weirder than a non-Kokiri being raised in the Lost Woods and spontaneously finding himself in Kakariko?"
"Castletown, and you have no idea."
"Hey," says Wandi, "if you was raised by the Kokiri, where's your fairy?" I scowl angrily at her.
"I don't know," I answer stiffly. "She's gone missing."
"Feh," Wandi says. "He's a damn liar, Duthie. Just put him back in his room." I turn back to Duthie.
"I'm not going back in my room," I growl at him. "I have to get out of here before night falls."
"Yes, Blind said you'd tried something to that effect on him as well," Duthie notes. "I'm afraid not." I clench my teeth.
Damn cynical pessimistic un-believing mule-headed shortsighted sons of bitches!
"Fine," I say flatly. "Then I'm sorry ahead of time for anything that happens from this point on. And if I don't make it out of here, then I suggest you make yourself scarce come nightfall, because I'm not going to—"
I lunge forward without finishing my sentence, catching both of them off guard with the sudden movement. Wandi levels her crossbow and Duthie lunges after me.
"Nayru's," I cry as I leap up onto the table and run to the other side where my stuff fell, "LOVE!" I hit the floor above my stuff just as a pretty shimmering sound rings in the sudden appearance of the familiar blue shield. Duthie's claws and Wandi's crossbow bolt clang uselessly off it. Duthie snarls and attacks it again, but to no avail.
"I told you he was a mage!" Wandi shrieks. I ignore them both and start picking up my gear and slinging it on as fast as I can.
"Duthie," I say, hurriedly attaching my pouch to my belt. "The Pedestal of Time … there's one in the Sheikah Caverns. Does the Dark World have those as well?"
"How did you make this shield?" Duthie demands angrily. "Spells aren't instantaneous like that. How did you—"
"Fairy magic," I reply with a raised eyebrow, securing my shield over my quiver and sword. "Great Fairy magic as a matter of fact."
"But the Great Fairies don't exist!"
"Yeah," I say. "I get that a lot. And yet, here I am, wrapped in a blue cocoon you can't break through, no matter how hard you try and you've got no other explanation for it. Kinda like this." I draw the Master Sword, and as per usual in this place it's instantly on fire. Duthie stumbles back a step with a gasp, his eyes wide.
"The sword," he says in a hoarse voice. "You've … it's …"
"And now, if you'll excuse me," I say stiffly, "I have other places to be." I offer them both a mocking bow, then turn towards the exit to the room and jog quickly down it. I hear Wandi snarl behind me, but Duthie apparently stops her before she can do whatever it was she had planned on doing.
"Wandi, no!" He says, his voice rapidly fading as I run. "We've got to get Blind…." And then I can't hear them any more, and to tell you the truth, I'm kind of relieved. Their voices were horrible.
Now for the best part of my plan.
Running blindly through these tunnels and praying with everything I have I actually manage to find an exit…
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
A Brief Interlude
"Everything is going according to plan," he said, his voice muffled slightly behind his mask. "The boy has escaped and should be herded quite nicely towards the Quisrol." He paused but didn't look up from his position on one knee. "Master, you … you didn't tell me he was a Sheikah."
"What does race matter in a place such as this?" Demanded the creature, perfectly androgynous face oddly shaded in the light from its eyes. "You of all people should understand that, Blind. Prepare yourself. The Cleric will meet the Triforce of Courage in the Quisrol. He will make the Triforce of Courage trust him. He will offer him a way back to the Light World. Do you understand?"
"Yes … Master," said Blind after a slight hesitation.
"It is imperative that the Triforce of Courage remain in the Dark World. Do you understand?"
"Yes Master."
"The carrier of the Triforce of Courage will be sacrificed, do you understand?"
"Yes … Master."
"Good. See that it is so, Blind. I tolerate much from you. I will not tolerate failure to secure the Triforce of Courage."
"Yes Master." The winged-thing turned to leave and Blind looked up at last. "Wait, Master! The boy … he claims that come nightfall…"
"I will deal with the Triforce of Courage come nightfall," said the creature. "Do not trouble yourself. Now prepare. The Triforce of Courage approaches the Quisrol." And with that it left, letting the door swing shut behind it.
Blind threw himself to his feet and let out the snarl he'd been just barely holding in.
How had it come to this? Slave to a freak of nature. Bowing and scraping like some kind of … of … Gerudo! The thought of working for this creature made the bile rise up in his throat. The thought that by working for this creature he was working for Ganondorf – or Ganon as the freak called him, for no apparent reason – made him physically ill. He was betraying all he'd ever stood for – as doubtful as others may have been that he'd stood for it – by doing this!
But he'd been doing it for what? Fifteen years now? Or was it ten? Or twenty? He didn't even know anymore. There was no time in this place. No time, no hope, nothing.
That was why he'd given in after all, wasn't it? Because he'd realized one day that it was hopeless. That Ganon had reached the Triforce first, that he was trapped in what had gone from paradise to hell, that there was nothing he could do to fight it. He had forgotten why he'd been fighting. Forgotten what kept him doing his damndest to elude the freak's clutches. For how long? Three years? More? He couldn't really remember that either.
He sagged for a moment in defeat, knowing full well he wouldn't defy the freak. The man who would once have fought tooth and nail and gladly gone to his death before bowing to anyone, let alone the corrupted, ugly husk of a Sentinel, was dead. Had been since the day Ganondorf had touched the Triforce and created the prison that had once been the Sacred Realm. There were times when Blind wondered if he'd ever really existed. He shook himself and moved over to the mirror on the other side of the room.
Mirrors were rare in the Dark World. Most people hated them. Destroyed them on sight rather than have to face what they've become. But that was what Blind was all about. Facing up to the truth, ugly and crushing though it might be. The simple fact of the matter was that you weren't who you were and you never would be again? Why deny it? Accept your fate. It would make it that much easier to deal with.
He pulled off his mask and forced himself to stare at his reflection.
The face of nothing stared back at him. Blind's grey hair seemed to grow from the top of his skull, and it was definitely Blind's skin color, but where there should have been a face was nothing. No eyes, no nose, just a blank canvas of skin.
Blind's face had been the most painful to lose.
She always used to say how much she liked my nose, he remembered, and as always he clutched at the memory, no matter how much it hurt him. That was the point. The Dark World worked to slowly leech away his memory of who he was, but it did let him remember things from time to time. Things that hurt to remember. With his last shred of defiance, he always clung to them. She said it suited my face … A hand came up, schooled through years of practice into stillness despite the tremble the effort covered, and moved over the eerily smooth surface. If onlyshe could see me now …
The pain, the memories … they were a necessary part of what came next. Because if Blind was about facing what you saw in the mirror and letting go of what you had once thought you were, the Cleric was about remembering it. The Cleric was about redemption. The Cleric claimed the Dark World was a punishment, and only by proving yourself good and pure of heart could you earn your way back to the heaven that was Hyrule. Those who obeyed and listened to the Cleric and to God – a red-eyed, leather-winged, black-armoured God, but nobody except the Cleric knew that of course – would be granted freedom from their hideous form, and a return to the Hyrule of their dreams.
As he watched his reflection the grey hair turned white and grew long and thick, billowing around his no-face and neck. His hands grew wrinkled and took on the spots that came with age. He lost the loose, boneless grace that marked everything about Blind and took on a rigid, solidness that was the Cleric's trademark. The black leathers he wore twisted and billowed, becoming a thick set of ornate white robes, complete with heavy cowl.
Beyond a subtle change in skin color, his featureless face remained the same. He could never keep faces long. The first few times he tried on a personality he could manage it, but slowly the details would fade, each time he tried it, the face would progressively morph more and more into nothingness, until eventually he'd be left with the open canvass that stared back at him now.
He'd spent his whole life pretending he was other people. Disguises, elaborate webs of careful fabrications, documentation, air-tight alibis, smoke and mirrors, whatever it took. Now he was cursed to never be himself again.
No more Dashil "Blind" of the Sheikah.
Now he was Blind the Thief.
Or The Cleric.
Or the Doppelganger.
Or any number of a million other people he could, would, and had been.
But nevermore himself.
His Self had died a long time ago.
He reached back and pulled the cowl far up over his head, hiding his featureless face in its shadows.
Time to do the freak's bidding and go "rescue" the Hero, and perhaps see an end to this at last.