The Legend of Zelda: Reconciliation

Hey all!

Not bad, eh? A little more than two weeks for an update. :-) It's another short-ish one, seeing as it's technically part two of the last chapter, but in retrospect, I'm glad I split them up as they'd have been way too long together, and for some reason posting the other gave me the oomph I needed to finish up this one. Also, I thought the last chapter was one of the shorter ones, but it's actually not according to the word count, which is interesting…

Not too much in the way of notes, this time, so I figured I'd take the opportunity to thank you all again for reading/reviewing/posting – whichever combination of these three things you partake in. :-) The Return just topped 1000 reviews, and will likely hit 50,000 hits by September, which marks the one year point from when the stats started keeping track (with Reconciliation not all that far behind on both counts). This, uh … kind of shocks me every time I look at it, so I really can't thank you enough for reading AND for reviewing. I'm glad I've managed to keep most of you entertained so far and hope I continue to be worthy of your time and attention. :-) You guys are the best!

Hope you enjoy the read and it was worth the wait!

Rose Zemlya

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The most persistent sound which reverberates through men's history is the beating of war drums.
Arthur Koestler, Janus: A Summing Up

Alas! must it ever be so?
Do we stand in our own light, wherever we go,
And fight our own shadows forever?
Edward Robert Bulwer Lytton


Chapter 17

I am so lost.

I skid to a stop at the umpteenth fork in a long series of forks in the dark stone tunnels, panting heavily and struggling to beat down the hopelessness welling up in my chest. I haven't got much time left. I have to get out of here. The Beast is growing more present, I've got a headache starting behind my eyes, my senses are getting better by the second, and I can feel the moon.

The sound of voices drifts down the left corridor, so I push myself back into motion, heading right.

If I can't find my way out maybe I can at least lose myself in the tunnels. Maybe the Beast won't be able to find his way back.

Somewhere deep in my chest the Beast laughs its derision at my vain hopes and I scowl darkly, doubling my speed in answer.

There's gotta be a way out of here. There has to be.

Another fork. Scent of people from the right. Left then.

I continue running.

Two more forks (left and straight) and then a dead end. I skid to a stop and stare up at the stone wall, clenching my jaw. Dammit. Have to double-back…

I smell them two seconds before I hear them.

"I think the brat's gone this way! Let's go!"

I whirl around and glare back down the tunnel.

Dammit.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

"Brayden…"

The word is a whisper, I can just barely make it out, but my head snaps up and I cast a frantic look around. Gliding out of the wall behind me is my aunt Aeria, looking as desperate and miserable as ever, but much less transparent…

… and I'm not using the Lens of Truth.

"Aeria!" I gasp. "I mean … Aunt Aeria?" The word "Aunt" feels foreign in my mouth, as do most words with familial connotations. "What are – I'm not Brayden, I'm Link. I'm his son, Link."

"Brayden…" She whispers again, her voice choked with tears. She makes the gesture again – the one she'd been doing in the woods, then points at the wall. Is she even hearing me?

"What do you want?" I demand, trying to keep my irritation down. "That's a wall. I can't—" She begins to cry, looking positively wretched as she makes the gesture again and points insistently at the wall. The voices from down the tunnel are getting louder. I stare back at her helplessly.

"It's a wall," I repeat desperately, trying to make her understand. I lift my hand to bang on it. "Look, I can't—" I freeze in surprise when my arm goes right through the wall. I snatch it back and stare at the wall with wide-eyes. "It's an illusion," I breathe.

"Brayden…"

"Why couldn't you speak before?" I demand of her. "And I'm not Brayden, I'm his son. Link." She makes the gesture and I blow my bangs out of my eyes impatiently. "All right," I say. "All right, fine!" I haven't much of a choice left, anyway. Judging by what my sense of smell is telling me, my pursuers are almost on top of me. I plunge into the wall, praying there's nothing nasty on the other side.

There isn't. There's just an empty room. A huge empty room. The walls and floor are covered in black stone – maybe marble? – and familiar intricate pillars are set into the wall, stretching up into the roof, which extends well beyond my line of sight. I feel my breath pick up.

"The Quisrol…" I breathe. Well … a negative image of the Quisrol, but this is unsurprising. I turn my attention to the centre of the room, and sure enough, extending right out of the floor in the middle of it is a chest high basin made out of the same black material as the rest of the room. No seam differentiates it from the floor.

"The Pedestal!" I rush up to it, but something is different besides the color of the stone that everything in the room is made of. The Triforce on the side of the basin doesn't glitter golden like it should. It's covered in green, instead. And where before I would approach the Pedestal in the Light World and the Master Sword would react, growing warm in my hand, now it doesn't react. It stays cold.

"Oh please…" I rush desperately up to the basin, praying, hoping, willing it to be full …

But it amounts to as much as any of my hopes so far have. When I peer into the basin, it's empty. No clear liquid to be seen, and a sizeable crack in the bowl.

I could cry right now.

"Goddess dammit…"

Surprised at just how much I'd been hoping the pedestal would work – and just how much it kills me that it won't – I let myself slide down onto the floor, leaning hopelessly back up against the pedestal.

Well, that's it then.

I'm lost, no way out, a band of thieves hunting me down in their own territory. I can't go home to Hyrule, the Pedestal doesn't work, and I'm maybe a minute away – judging by the building buzz of pain in the back of my mind – from the Beast getting out and killing everyone it finds.

"You know," says a soft, sympathetic voice, "many people, in times like this, find it helps to turn to God." I'm on my feet, sword blazing again before he's done speaking.

A tall, well-built man stands peacefully in the room in front of me, his face obscured in the shadows of a thick hood. I narrow my eyes in a paranoid fashion at him, casting a furtive look around.

"I didn't smell you," I say flatly. "I still can't smell you. Why not?"

"What are you talking about, child?" Asks the man. I narrow my eyes at him, not really wanting to explain it.

"Suffice it to say," I say simply, "that my sense of smell is heightened right now and I should have smelled you long before you got near me. How did you get in here?"

"Same was as you, I imagine," he says with an amused look. "Though that pack of thieves did give me a bit of trouble, but I have my ways." I'm not laughing. My time is numbered in seconds.

"Look," I say flatly, "you need to get out of here. Right now."

"I've never abandoned a person in need before, my boy," he says calmly, "and if you don't mind my saying it, you certainly look like you're in need right now."

"Get out of here!" I snarl. "I'm going to—" But it's too late. My warning is cut off by a blinding stab of pain. I gasp and fall to my knees, almost losing my grip on my sword.

The sword!

I've got to sheathe it before I change.

Get back! I snarl at the Beast, forcing myself to focus through the pain on shoving my sword into its sheath. It takes more effort than I care to admit. Get BACK!

The Beast doesn't listen, clawing and tearing its way forward with more ferocity and strength than I can fight.

"What's wrong, son?" Asks a comforting voice. The man. It's the man. He's touching my shoulders as I clutch at my head. He's right on top of me and I still can't smell him.

I try to answer him, to shove him away or scream at him to leave, but what comes out instead is a scream as my world turns white with pain, and then shatters into black.

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A Brief Interlude

Amplisa loosened her scimitar in its sheath for what felt like the millionth time, never removing her narrow-eyed gaze from the horizon. A purple twilight had settled over the desert, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. Night was coming, and with it…

With it, comes revenge, she thought fiercely. Revenge for Aliza, and the others. Filthy abominations. I'll show them what it means to be Gerudo. I'll show them what it means to take Gerudo blood!

Calm, steady footsteps ascending the ladder behind her. She knew without looking it was Rue.

"Any sign of them?" The old woman asked, betraying no emotion in her voice. She moved over to stand beside Amplisa on the tower over the gates.

"Not yet," Amplisa answered simply. "But they're out there. I can smell them." Rue nodded and turned her gaze over the horizon. She knew was little use as a lookout – her eyes were not what they used to be – but she had not come up there to be lookout.

"What comes to knock tonight," Rue said, her words as calm and steady as her footprints, "is war." The still desert air carried her words over the wall, and though none of the other women took their eyes from the landscape in front of them, the slight inclinations of heads and slants of bodies told Rue they were listening. "And for once, we are not the instigators. We are not the offence." She paused, a pensive look on her face. "Throughout our history, there have been many wars. Even in my own lifetime, which is no more than an eye-blink in the face of history, the Gerudo have fought in war after war after war. In the past we fought other desert tribes until we were the only one left. We have fought invading armies from beyond our sands. We have fought against the forces of Gorons, and Hylians, and Sheikah, and Zora. We have fought against the Moblins. We have fought against hunger, and thirst, and the desert itself. Always we fight, and always we win, and this has forged us into the people we are now." She paused, sweeping the dunes with eyes that were seeing the battles of the past. "And now we have an enemy who dares bring war to us. An enemy who's side we once fought along. And enemy led by a man we once called King. A betrayer of his own people. They have dared to invade our desert. They have dared to spill our blood. They have dared to touch our King, and murder our sisters, and attack the fragile bonds we have worked so hard to create between ourselves and Hyrule." She paused again, her face hardening in an exact mirror-image of the faces all along the wall and scattered below it hardening. One by one all the women waiting for some sign of their enemies put on their Gerudo faces.

"There is no such thing as a great war," Rue said. "But there is such a thing as a Gerudo's War, and a Gerudo's war is life. It is for life. It is about life. It is her life. Since the first Gerudo banded together and made a pact with the Goddess for aid and strength in the face of our trials, our fight has been a fight to survive. The wind which blows through the desert we have claimed as our own brings nothing but death, and yet here we are. We have bridled that wind, and we ride it, as we have always done." A fierce pride had entered her voice. "Despite all odds, we have survived, and continue to survive, and will always survive. No matter what that wind brings. No matter how our enemies plot and scheme and try. No matter how many Moblins the night will bring to our doorstep." She fell silent for a long moment, but those gathered sensed that she was not done. She raised her eyes at last to the Gerudo around her. Looked at each of them in turn, knew every last one of them by name and face and history.

"But our fight tonight, is not just for our survival," she said finally. "Tonight, for the first time in the history of the Gerudo, we fight not just for ourselves, but for those who depend on us, whether they know it or not. Whether they want our help or not. We are – as we have always been – Hyrule's first line of defence. To get to those we protect, the Moblins must first break our line. They must break through the Gerudo Gates. They must break through the Gerudo people. In all my years, in all the Gerudo's years, never has our line been broken! Never have these gates been breached! And they will not be breached now!

"We are here, tonight, the same people as we have always been. We are here, tonight, for the same reasons that always drive us here. But tonight, our purpose is different. We are here to defend. We are here to protect. We are here to preserve." She looked around at them again, met their eyes, made sure they understood what she was saying. "This is something we have always done, without knowing it. This is something that must be done now, with full awareness. Hyrule does not want us. Thanks to the machinations of our enemies, they believe they are done with us. They think they have washed their hands of us." She scoffed. "As if they had a choice in the matter. Since when have we ever spared a thought for the wishes of Hylians and their ilk?" An electric run of harsh laughter ran through the crowd.

"Tonight we fight for ourselves, and the Gorons and the Hylians and the Zora and even the Sheikah! We fight for the baby Kokiri, safe in their trees. We fight for the Hyrule that doesn't want us, but that we've always been a part of, whether we knew it or not." She paused and let the weight of her words sink in.

"Tonight," she says, "we fight the first, real Gerudo's War in generations. We are honoured to have this opportunity! We are honoured to be granted this sacrifice, whatever it may be! This is an opportunity like none other! It is time," she said, almost triumphantly, "to show the world – allies and enemies both – what it is to be Gerudo!"

There was no answering cheer, or cry, or even a shout. Instead, teeth flashed in the growing darkness, feral grins white in the bruised twilight; a silent solidarity that went back to the original Gerudo. Rue gave them a tight, fierce smile of her own, then turned back to Amplisa and the sunset.

"I know you're angry about Aliza's loss," Rue said after a moment, lowering her voice now so that only Amplisa could hear her. Amplisa cut her off before she could continue any further.

"I am angry about the loss of all my sisters," she said flatly. Rue raised an eyebrow at her.

"And well you should be," she said. "But if you think I am not aware of the fact that although we are all equal in the Goddess' eyes, we do occasionally pick favourites, you would be sadly mistaken." She leaned easily on the railing, looking away from Amplisa. "Aliza was more than your sister, Amplisa. Do not lie to me. You and she were close and you feel her loss more keenly than the others. You are prepared to seek vengeance for her more keenly than the others. I do not fault you for it, nor do I disapprove. Quite the contrary. All I ask, is that you be careful." Amplisa blinked and peered over at her.

"Why?" She asked. Rue's face took on a wry cast.

"Because the King has his own favourites as well, and you happen to fall under that group. As did Aliza. It will be hard enough, once he escapes the Dark World, to deal with the inevitable loss of women that will result from the coming battles. Harder still to deal with the loss of his favourites. And each favourite he loses only increases his burden." Amplisa was silent for a moment.

"Carrying a burden can make you stronger," she said after a long moment.

"Ah," said Rue, "but our King is not like our usual Kings. He is different, and his strength is of a different kind. You should know him well enough to know that."

"We shouldn't coddle him like we do," Amplisa answered, though her words lacked conviction.

"We don't," Rue answered. "If anything he coddles us, I think, though at times it's hard to see." She turned away from the horizon and moved back towards the ladder, pausing as she started her descent.

"I think, perhaps, I was incorrect in using the word favourites," she said, and Amplisa at last turned from the horizon to meet her gaze. Rue's face was neutral as usual. "I believe, he would refer to them as friends." And with that, her grey head disappeared down the ladder.

Amplisa stared after her for a moment, but whatever her thoughts on the subject, she was distracted from them by the sounds of a loud horn calling from somewhere in the desert. She turned back around as the sun finally sank below the horizon and night fell at last.

The enemy approached.

xxx

Durnam decided, in a brief fit of passion, that he hated the man standing at the other end of the table. He was the spitting image of his son, right down to the arrogant, confident smirk on his face – though much greyer at the temples, Durnam couldn't help but note spitefully – not that he was one to talk. The man's handsome face turned around the room as he surveyed those gathered.

"What's the matter, lads?" He asked jovially. "You don't look happy to see me."

"What are you doing here, Eldrick?" Spat Harker. "Shouldn't you be out in the streets, rousing the rabble?" Eldrick Senior offered him a poisonous smile.

"Oh no," he said with a smirk, "I daresay my son's doing a good enough job of that. He doesn't need his old man's help. And I'm here because I heard there was a call for the seven – well the six seeing as Hyrule currently doesn't have a representative available – Hylian Houses to gather and discuss the current situation, and you know, it's the funniest thing, but last I checked House Eldrick ranked in the seven." He offered a chill smile to the room. "Funny that the messenger missed me, but it is dire times we're living in after all. I decided to just assume, of course, that you had warmly invited me to your little get together, as I'm sure that is precisely what you meant by neglecting to send me an invitation." He took his customary chair at the oval table and leaned back in it idly. "So let's hear it. Go ahead and tell me who you've nominated to rule Hyrule so I can go ahead and tell you just how wrong you are."

"We're still in the process of debating it," Durnam said stiffly. "As you can imagine, your son has complicated things."

"Oh, now, now," said Eldrick, the grin never leaving his face. "Dorian's a good boy, and it's not entirely his fault, you know. The petty nobles are causing problems as well – had you heard that Trelain's been assassinated? I've no idea if it's true of course, but I'm fairly certain there's at least been an attempt – and, if you don't mind my saying, you men have brought most of this on yourselves. Treachery begets treachery, after all."

"We do mind you saying it!" Snarled Shenyan, slamming his fist on the table. "How dare you come in here and accuse us—" But Eldrick's grin vanished and he leapt to his feet, leaning across the table and looking murderous.

"How dare you deny it to my face!" He roared, startling the gathered nobles. "Don't insult me, Shenyan, you idiot. For once in your miserable life why don't you act like a man. There isn't a man around this table who didn't side with Agahnim on everything the old Wizard said and did!" He glowered around at all of them. "Now, I'm not condemning you for it. Some of you had reasons – a few of you damn good ones – for doing as you did. Some of you are nothing more than fools and treasonous dogs and I'd like nothing better than to hand you over to the lynch mob. But I'm not here for that."

"Than what are you here for?" Demanded Harker, cutting across Black who looked as though he was about to argue the point.

"I'm here to explain to you how the battle lines are being drawn," Eldrick responded. "There is one ruler of Hyrule, and that is Queen Zelda. Castletown's on the brink of civil war, and you all know it. There's already been preliminary violence. As I've said, some of the petty houses have begun fighting with each other, and the peasant's are already drawing sides. You plan on debating among yourselves and finally choosing one of your own houses to succeed the House of Hyrule, and you hope that by announcing it tonight you can avoid the bloodshed you can feel building in the streets. You hope that through a display of unity from the major houses you'll be able to calm the peasants and return things to normal." His eyes flashed. "I'm here to tell you that the House of Eldrick will fight you mangy rats until we die. If you announce any ruler besides Queen Zelda tonight, we'll unleash the mob."

"You can't be serious!" Durnam said, staring at him in shock. "You'd sentence those people to war over a dead—"

"If you believe for even a second, Durnam, that anyone chosen tonight will last – that you five won't immediately betray each other at the first possible opportunity once you've calmed the masses – then you're more of a fool than I thought. Personally, I'd prefer a civil war to a succession war – especially when the throne isn't yours to succeed."

"You can't possibly believe that Zelda is still alive," snaps Black. "After everything Agahnim—"

"After everything you helped Agahnim do," Eldrick corrected him harshly. "And I will not believe that Zelda is dead until I see her body." He bared his teeth at them. "And if I do see her body, and she is in fact dead, then I will see to it that each and every one of you hangs if I have to tie the noose myself." He straightened and gave them all a smirk. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some rabble to rouse." And he turned with a whirl of his dark ponytail and velvet cape and strode out of the room.

The nobles gathered around the table were silent for a long moment, staring at each other and waiting to see who would be the first to respond.

Hidden deep in the shadows of the room, Brayden of the Sheikah shook his head hopelessly. He already knew what the nobles would decide. Eldrick had made the battle lines clear as a bell for them, but they had very little choice given their situation and their own, personal ambitions. They would not acknowledge Zelda as the Queen – especially not when they believed her dead – and the people of Castletown would accept no other – thanks in large part to the House of Eldrick. He slipped out of the room and into the Servant's hallways.

The Sages were not going to be pleased.

xxx

All the Cleric could think, as he slammed off the wall of the Quisrol, a bloody gash in his side where what had once been the Hero of Time had raked his claws across him, was:

Sweet, merciful Din! He was telling the truth!

Snarling in rage or pain or animalistic insanity – pondering the source of the beast's violence was hardly on the Cleric's list of priorities – the beast threw himself at the prone man on the floor again as he pushed himself frantically to his feet.

For a brief, blinding instant, the Cleric didn't know if he was terrified or excited that he was about to die, and so, was rather confused when he didn't. That hadn't really seemed like an option, what with the teeth and the claws and the four hundred pounds of muscle and fury.

He lowered his arms, ever so slightly, from where he'd thrown them up in a futile attempt at protecting his face (my lack thereof, he corrected himself). Standing between himself and the monster was the freak, back rigid with effort, hands weaving complex patterns in the air, surrounded by a green light. The Cleric blinked, then peered around the makani. The monster was encased in a small cube of green light, throwing itself blindly against the walls with as much force as it could muster in the small area – which was still a considerable amount, judging by the way the cube shuddered and the freak strained. The cube grew smaller and smaller around the beast, eventually pinning it into a more or less still position, though it still thrashed its head and snarled and barked and growled. The makani forced its hands forward and spoke a sharp word of command. The green light tightened around the beast, conforming to its shape, and abruptly went out.

The massive beast's eyes went dull and it toppled forward, crashing limply onto the ground. The Cleric turned his eyes back up to the corrupted Sentinel, who – once the light had finally vanished – had gasped like a drowning man finally getting back to the air and staggered back a step. The freak stared down at the beast and shook its head slowly.

"This … will be more complicated than I anticipated," it said, face impassive as always. The Cleric stared.

"What the Hell?" He managed. "What did you do to him!"

"I've put him to sleep," the freak answered slowly. "But it … was not as easy as it should have been. The Triforce of Courage protects its carrier fiercely and I am not equipped to fight a Triforce piece for long." It looked pensive. "Yet we must collect the Triforce of Courage for the Master. He requires all three." It turned abruptly to gaze at the Cleric. "You will have to kill him. His death has been decreed by the Master." The Cleric stared up at the makani.

"What, like now?" He asked, startled. The Sentinel's eyes flared violently with red light suddenly and it raised a taloned hand. The Cleric saved himself only by throwing himself onto his hands and knees in a sudden panic. "I'm sorry, Master!" He gasped as the makani's claws sailed through the spot where he'd once been. "I shouldn't have questioned you! I was startled by the order, that's all!" He ground his teeth where the freak couldn't see. "Forgive me."

I will kill you if it's the last thing I do. The thought came from nowhere, but didn't surprise the Cleric. It had been a secret dream of his since he'd first bowed down to the corrupted Sentinel, but one he'd scarcely allowed himself to entertain over the years, harbouring a childish fear that the Sentinel would know somehow, if he thought it too loudly. And besides that, it was a hopeless dream. Before there had been no possible way to even hope of freeing himself of the Sentinel, short of killing himself, of course, and as brave as he knew he could be, he wasn't brave enough to die just yet, even if a part of him wished he could. But now …

Despite himself, he peered from underneath his cowl at the unconscious beast sprawled on the ground nearby.

Now he had help. Some of the highest level help available.

The Hero of Time.

If it really is the Sword of Evil's Bane … if it's really the blade the legends say it is …

"Get up," snapped the Sentinel. "Kill him." Blind winced and got slowly to his feet, buying himself time to think.

"Master," he said putting as much apologetic respect into his voice as he could, "I … I don't mean to question you again, but did you not wish him sacrificed?"

"For the sacrifice to be effective, the mortals would have to know him. I do not wish to take the risk of allowing him to walk free. If we lose the Triforce of Courage, the Master will not be pleased. Now kill him." The Cleric, fully aware he was treading a thin line, chose his next words carefully.

"Well, it's just … I was thinking that perhaps the boy represents a golden opportunity." The use of the word golden was not an accident. It held a special significance for the Sentinel, and the Cleric knew that. "Master, I understand that your power and knowledge are nearly limitless—" he wasn't sure how much of that was flattery and how much of it was truth, but he was sure it couldn't hurt "—but your understanding of the mortal mind is necessarily limited due to just how far above them you are. The people begin to grow restless. For years, many of them have tried to resist the urges placed in them by this realm, and they begin to grow frustrated that they are never chosen. They begin to doubt."

"Perhaps," said the Sentinel, face impossible to read as always, "you are merely being too convincing as Blind."

"If I wasn't convincing as Blind," the Cleric interrupted smoothly, "the people would not believe that they had an enemy. They would not believe they need the Cleric to protect them. I have to be convincing as Blind."

"Then not convincing enough as the Cleric," the Sentinel countered, and the Cleric silently cursed it in his head.

"Master it is results that are convincing to mortals," he said. "The people need something new and fantastic to regain their interest and their faith. I suspect … I suspect that if he could be converted, the boy would prove the perfect proselyte. He could easily convince the people that the Cleric is to be believed, and they would return to their worship of, ah … of you with renewed vigour, and thereby be kept in line." The sentinel was silent, considering the Cleric's words.

"But you have named him apostate."

"So I have," said the Cleric. "And at first, it will appear as though I was correct. But there is no better spokesman than a convert. It will merely add credibility once he converts."

"And once this is done, you plan to sacrifice him then?"

"I plan to redeem him, actually," said the Cleric. "Or at least to make it appear as though I have. Imagine it. A beast like that—" He gestured. "—Transformed before the gathered people back into the boy he was a scant few minutes ago. It will be quite the spectacle. They'll fall right back into our hands without so much as a whisper."

"But you will kill him?"

"Yes of course," the Cleric said. "I am a doppelganger, you know. It won't be the boy who walks back out of the cave, it will be me of course."

"Why should I take the risks?"

"Because the rewards are well worth it. Please your Master, get one step closer to reuniting the Triforce, and have an even tighter grip on the people in your domain than previously, all in one go."

"How do you know he won't flee when the opportunity presents itself?" The Sentinel demanded. Finally, the Cleric allowed himself to smile.

"I'll have someone give him incentive to stay," he said, turning back to the fallen beast again. "And I know just the man for the job…"

xxx

"You know," said Karun, "it's the funniest thing, but I really can't remember what it was I asked them to do." He offered Dune a wide smile. "It can't have been that important, can it? I'm sure they'll be back soon." Dune's expression grew unimpressed.

"Karun, we haven't got time for games. Where are Bel and Mel?" He shrugged helplessly, turning back to his maps and plans.

"I told you, I can't remember what it was I set them to doing. They'll turn up." Dune made an irritated noise.

"Karun, they're rogue Sheikah. You shouldn't have given them anything to do. They can't be … they can't be trusted."

"Why not?" Karun asked, eyes going sharp with that eerie ability to see straight through to the heart of things that so many people developed as they got older. "Because the Council says so?"

"Because they're rogue," said Dune with a flat frown. "The Sheikahn justice system is no concern of yours. What is a concern is that there are two rogue Sheikah missing, and we're less than an hour away from war. Now where are they?" Karun sighed and shrugged again.

"I don't know, I told you. Why not ask Darunia? Maybe he's seen them."

"Darunia told me to ask you," Dune managed through gritted teeth. Karun offered her a bright smile.

"Well then," he said, "guess there's nothing for you to do but wait and see if they turn up. Now, shouldn't you be out rallying your troops? As you've said, war is upon us." She threw up her hands and stormed out of the room. Karun shook his head. He had a feeling the irritation was less about the fact that Bel and Mel were rogue, and more about the fact that she was just worried about them.

"With all due respect, Big Brother," he said, addressing the table, "you know what I think of this." Darunia climbed out from beneath the maps that had been 'accidentally' draped over the edge of the table and grinned sheepishly up at his general.

"You don't really think they're going to get their stomach's in a knot over this when we've got Moblins to deal with, do you?" He asked, climbing to his feet.

"From my experience," said Karun, "it doesn't take much for the other peoples of Hyrule to get their stomachs in a knot." He paused for a moment. "Except maybe the Gerudo." Darunia grinned at him.

"They'd have to untie the knot in their faces first," he said. Karun at last allowed himself to grin.

"Well," he said, "you are Big Brother. I just hope what you know what you're getting us – and Bel and Mel – into. You realize that if they die out there…"

"They won't," Darunia said confidently. "And I honestly think they'd prefer to take that risk, then just meekly accept the alternative. Have you spoken with Acqul?"

"I sent him a message. He expressed the same reservations as I did, but I believe Ruto intercepted his reply because what came back was a rather short agreement to the plan, which more or less screams spousal involvement. At least for the Zora."

"At least for Ruto," said Darunia with a wide smile and a deep laugh. Karun returned the smile, not offended in the slightest by his leader's lack of seriousness on the brink of such a serious battle. He recognized Darunia's way of simply enjoying what he could out of what would likely be the last few moments that had anything enjoyable in them at all. Such was the Goron way. Enjoy what you could, while you could, and when it became impossible, do what you had to do to make it possible again. That was what they had always done. Of everything else that had changed since the start of the Goron race, that had remained constant.

The Gorons would once again remind the Moblins that they could fight as hard as they laughed.

xxx

Impa sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose against the headache that had been slowly building up all day. Not even the calm solemnity of the Temple of Time could break through the throb in her head that war always brought with it.

"Well," she said at last, "I'm not surprised. We expected this from the start." Brayden shook his head grimly.

"The Nobles will announce their decision tonight. My rupees are on Durnam. He's popular, has a good image as a kindly, affectionate old man, and for a long time was openly supportive of Link – who is, once again, a hero for at least some of the Hylians. He'll have the best chance of all of them at calming down the masses."

"And that chance is …?"

"Next to nothing," Brayden reported. "The Eldrick's have the whole town in a riotous state, over several issues. Whether Agahnim is a good man or a bad one, whether Link's a hero or a criminal, whether Zelda's dead, or else alive and imprisoned, whether any of the noble houses should take the throne, or it should be preserved for Zelda's return, if she returns, and just about any combination thereof. Castletown's spoiling for a fight, Impa. Durnam could come out tonight and announce that they're bowing down to Eldrick's ultimatum after all and waiting for Zelda to come back or at least proof of her death, and there would still be fighting."

"We need to minimize it as much as we can," Impa said with a dark frown. "We simply don't have the resources to handle a civil war here and the Moblins back at Kakariko – and that's assuming the Zoras and the Gerudo won't need back up." Brayden raised an eyebrow.

"You think the Gerudo would call on us for back up?" He asked. "Not with Link gone they won't. We'll be lucky as it is they don't send someone to assassinate Durnam if Nabooru lets it loose that he was directly responsible for betraying Link into Agahnim's hands." He shook his head. "They won't be asking for our help." Impa's face was hard.

"I don't care if they ask," she said flatly. "We're fighting a war for Hyrule on three fronts right now, not including Castletown. I will not allow any of those fronts to fall for the sake of a decades old grudge. The Sheikah have always stood guard over Hyrule. That has always come first for our people, and nothing has changed that. If the Gerudo cannot hold their line on their own, then we will help them hold it." She shook her head. "But it doesn't matter, I doubt it will be an issue. I have perfect faith in the Gerudo to do as they've always done. Nabooru is skilled and competent and they, like the rest of us, will do their best. Besides, I think we'll be having trouble enough holding our own front, even with the Gorons. The mountain pass is the easiest way into Hyrule for the army of Moblins. No burning desert to cross, no oceans and lakes to swim."

"And the Dark World Zora?"

"Don't let the Zora catch you calling them that," Impa said with a raised eyebrow. "They'll flay you themselves. As for this new threat, however, that will be up to the Zora. We simply don't have the capability to wage an underwater war. The Zora are on their own." She cast a troubled glance out the high up windows. "We are all, I think, on our own." Brayden offered her a slightly crooked half-smile.

"Actually," he said, "I think for the first time in the history of the Sheikah, we aren't alone. We're not the only ones who care about Hyrule anymore, Impa. We're not the only ones trying to protect it. Even the Eldricks, in their own, unhelpful, ham fisted, arrogant kind of way are doing what they can."

"Well," said Impa with a sigh, "I just hope it will be enough." She held out her hand and gripped Brayden's forearm, giving it a stiff shake. "Do what you can here, Brayden. If you could even stall until we've got some idea of the Moblin strength…" Brayden sighed.

"I'll do what I can, Impa, but no promises," he said. "I'm no Bruiser." For a moment a shadow of sadness crossed Impa's face but it was gone the next moment.

"No," she agreed. "You're Brayden. Which is just as good." She stepped back and vanished in a swirl of shadow. He sighed and shook his head.

He was grateful, at least, that he was busy – even if it was a kind of morbid business – as it kept him from dwelling or worrying or cursing the Goddesses for striking out so violently lately at his family. He shrugged his shoulders irritably and turned to leave the Temple but couldn't quite make himself take the first steps towards the door.

This place … this temple had an odd sort of sway over him he didn't entirely understand. Beyond the personal significance it held. This was, after all, the place where he'd eventually been freed from Dark Link's clutches. This was the place where he'd murdered his own son. The place where his son had somehow come back to them anyway. This was the place where he finally got to see Ganondorf defeated. This was the place where so many things had happened. But it was more than that, somehow …

This was the place where he could feel his son in every corner.

The secrets of the Temple of Time were a mystery, even to Link, and it was technically his Temple. And yet it was his favourite place, for no apparent reason. You wouldn't think it, to look at him. The boy was easily bored, entirely too energetic for his own good, fond of company and noise and commotion – and if there wasn't any to be had, he'd make some. And yet, if you were to ask him what his favourite place was, he'd answer here. With nothing but the cold marble of the walls and floor, and the unseen choir, chanting unobtrusively in the background. He always came here alone, when he did come, and if intruded upon, would find a reason to leave with the intruder, rather than suffer the invasion of his temple.

And yet … if you knew him – really knew him – and you came here, it fit, somehow. There was just something about the place that was unalterably, irrevocably Link. Some secret tie between he and it that couldn't be understood, but that didn't need to be understood. It was good enough that it was at all.

Brayden closed his eyes for a long moment, and prayed as hard as he could to the Goddesses that Link's presence existed in this place because he was alive, not just because Brayden himself was terrified he might not be, and looking for reasons to continue hoping.

He wished, fervently, that he could have been there when Rue, Thomas, and Sahasrala had made a tenuous connection to him, in the Dark World. He didn't know what would have changed, or what he could have done, but he still wished it.

At least he knew that Link, some short time ago, had been alive.

That meant he might very well still be alive.

And so might the others.

And that was what mattered.

He opened his eyes at last and moved over to the door. He opened it and slipped out just as the sun sank behind the hills. He shook his head and pulled his scarf back up over his face. There would be bloodshed in Castletown before the night was through. He moved through the snow towards the Golden Palace and felt his heart harden in his chest.

Night had fallen over Hyrule, and it was going to be a long wait for the dawn.

xxx

Acqul stared grimly between the unbreakable chain links of the wall and waited for the night to take its course. The sun had gone down, the waters grew dark, and war was upon them. Already the scent of blood drifted on the water, and from his current vantage point, he couldn't see the fight yet.

The Dark Zora – they had not yet found a more convenient, less offensive name for the beasts – had been engaged, somewhere around the river bend. Acqul spared himself a brief moment, as he usually did, that he could be out there, fighting with his men, as he had when he was younger. But such was the General's curse. You were forced to order your men into places where you could no longer follow. Their place was dying on the fields you chose, and yours was huddled in a safer place with your advisors, desperately trying to ensure that their sacrifices were not in vain. And so it went. His men were dying around the bend against the Dark Zora, and he was left behind the chain gate, scenting their blood, and waiting for his scouts to report.

There were times when he hated being a general.

A disturbance in the water above him indicated the return – at last – of one of his scouts. He resisted the urge to whirl around and rocket towards the soldier.

Sir! The Zora saluted smartly, all but skidding to a halt in front of the Zoran general. We've engaged the enemy as ordered. It's only a small force at the moment and we're keeping them pinned around the bend. They haven't yet tried to escape overland. He looked briefly confused at this piece of news, and Acqul felt a bit of surprise himself. The soldier continued. We're … we're holding the line, sir, but these things are … well they're … And Acqul forced his brain away from its machinations and battle plans for a moment to actually look at the scout, realizing for the first time just how young he was.

Real go-getter if he's in this position at his age, Acqul thought to himself approvingly. His own military career had followed a similar path and speed. He realized with a sudden pang of sympathy that the battle for Castletown had likely been the first real battle the young man had taken part in, and while that fight had been nothing to scoff at and the odds had been so desperately against them, the enemies were in a different class entirely from this new threat. The Moblins the boy had encountered previously were, like it or not, at least partly of this world. They had spent so long in it, been born in it (if not of it)…. But this new threat ….

Acqul understood now, what it must have been like for Link to have faced off against Dark Link – ignoring the fact that the shade had been the Hero's father. To be forced to stare into the eyes of everything you've ever hated about yourself. To have it stare back, and grin at you. Like everything dark and nasty you'd spent your lifetime breaking down and locking away so deep inside you even you forgot it existed had been ripped out, shrieking and writhing, into the light for the world to see. Darkness made manifest.

No wonder the just-barley-a-man in front of him looked shaken.

He was tempted, briefly, to reach out and squeeze the boy's shoulder or instigate some other form of physical comfort, but this, he knew, was a side effect of a bit too much time with the Gorons lately. The last thing they needed right now was a breach of propriety added to all the other stress of the moment. So he settled for offering the boy a serious expression.

The threat represented by this new enemy is unlike anything we've faced before, he said, deciding that treating the boy like the equal he was, and had to be, was the best course for strengthening his resolve, but we will persevere. We have to. For the sake of our own people, and the peoples of Hyrule. His face took on a distant cast. I think, he said, that we made a grave error, twenty years ago, when we picked sides as we did. His lips twisted wryly. Some ally Ganondorf was, if he'd been harbouring these monsters the whole time we were fighting alongside him. He shook himself and turned back to the scout. It's time to rectify that now. This fight is bigger than us, and we can't afford to lose it. He offered the boy a wide smile. It would be inappropriate of us, I think, to lose our nerve now, before the fight even really begins, don't you? Hyrule's counting on us. It would be rude to disappoint them.

Yes sir! Said the boy, with another smart salute. He didn't look much happier, but the resolve on his face was firmer and Acqul thought it might have been enough.

Good, he said, now get back to your post. We have a war to win. As the boy swam away, making a beeline for the surface and the shore again, Acqul felt a cool pair of arms slide around his waist. He jumped, but didn't turn. That would be Ruto. Only the Sage of Water could sneak up on him like that without disturbing the water. He frowned, pleased but uncomfortable (as per usual) with her occasional public displays of affection.

Ruto, he signed subtly, the men …

Don't care, she replied, loosening one arm from his waist to sign back at him. He was amazed once again by her ability to put tone into her sign language. He could "hear", quite clearly, the foot-stamping, temper-tantrum-pending, give-me-what-I-want-right-now-or-I'm-going-to-scream-until-you-do tone that she still, from time to time, demonstrated when she wanted something and sensed an impending no. There was not a Zora alive who had been able to stand up under that tone when she used it, and Acqul – try though he might – was no exception.

No wonder, he thought to himself, people think Zoran children are spoiled. They are …

How bad is it? He signed after a moment of letting her cling. She knew how important this battle was, and she wouldn't be seeking comfort now if she didn't need it. She pulled away from him at last and looked out through the gate, towards the source of the scent of blood.

Bad enough, she answered, her eyes going distant as she focused her sense further down the river. I think we're winning, if that's what you're asking, but they're not … they're making us pay for it. She shook her head and turned back to him. It'll be over soon enough. They're running out of soldiers. The survivors are already pushing back towards the Lake. Acqul nodded. He had expected as much. This was just the preliminary push, testing the defences, trying to see how they were set up. Acqul's face hardened.

Let them see. He had chosen the spot he had for a reason. The bend could be seen as a disadvantage for him, as it meant he couldn't see the enemy coming from in the river until they'd rounded it, but it didn't matter. He had Ruto, and if they were in the water, she could find them. In the meantime, they couldn't see the Zoran forces until they'd rounded the bend. Plus, they were swimming against the current, which, between that and the sudden curve, would prevent any kind of direct charge at the gates.

The blood in the water was thick now, but the scent had stopped growing, and was diminishing now as the current swept it away. The skirmish was over and his men – what was left of them – would be limping back.

The next one, he knew, would be for keeps.

It was going to be a long night…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 17 (cont.)

I realize, with a sudden start, that I'm awake.

Oh how I envy those people for whom this is not, in and of itself, a miracle.

I take my time reacting to the realization, however, cherishing those last few seconds of awareness-deprived sleep before the world, and all the nasty things that inevitably come with it, intrude on me once again. It's bliss while it lasts.

I move my hand slowly up to my head, surprised for a moment when the motion makes me aware of my body position. I'm neither on my back, nor on my face. I'm on my side – which is generally impossible, as it's indicative of actual sleep instead of passing out from exhaustion after a busy night running around killing things as a beast.

I jerk upright with a gasp, propping myself up on my hands. The blanket – a blanket! – slides halfway off my back and my pillow's – my pillow! – smiling creases wink up at me. There's no bed to speak of, just another blanket beneath me on a floor, but still.

Then, as though my brain is not already reeling from shock, I realize that I'm not in pain. I drop onto my backside, skewing the blankets and pillow and immediately begin checking myself over for wounds.

There are none.

Not a scrape, not a bruise, not so much as a twinge.

This is impossible! I was cornered in a series of tunnels filled to the brim with people! I should be hurt at least as badly as I was the first night, if not dead outright! There's no way I would have gotten out of there like this!

Maybe Duthie…

But no. A quick check confirms there are no cuts on my neck either, so he can't have used his claws on me. I push myself unsteadily to my feet and lean up against the wall, which isn't made of stone. It's made of wood. I blink.

This isn't … I'm not in the caverns anymore.

Is this Blind's doing?

Where am I?

I glance around the room. There's a simple wooden table against the other wall with two chairs and all of my things piled on top (well, I guess it's not Blind's doing …), a tiny window set into the wall to my left, a door on my right. As curious as I am to peer out the window, first things first. I move over to the table and immediately begin slinging back on all of my weapons, taking a mental inventory as I go. Surprisingly, it's all here.

Definitely not Blind.

I fidget for a moment, then hesitantly work my way over to the window. I peer cautiously outside through the warped glass. It's raining pretty heavily, and between that and the distorted image I can't make out much, but it looks like there's a town out there. I can see a hunched figure shuffling through the rain, but any details outside of that are obscured.

"The Cleric," I breathe. "That's who that man was…"

It has to have been him. And it has to have been him that brought me here. This is the Dark World's version of Kakariko, it has to be. But how? How did he? He should have died. I would have … the beast would have killed him the instant it had control. I cover my face with my hand for a moment.

I'm getting so sick of never knowing anything. This constant state of helpless confusion is going to drive me insane…

You know, if the Beast, and the Dark World, and the impossibility of the task laid out ahead of me don't do it first. Farore, maybe I'm already crazy. Maybe I'm actually dying in a ditch somewhere and hallucinating. Maybe I've lost my mind at last. That would be nice. Just be nice and crazy and living in a world that isn't this one. Paradise, really, when you get right down to it.

So absorbed am I, in pondering the pleasantries of madness, that when someone right behind me goes "Boo!" I jump about three miles into the air with a startled shout, scrabbling for my sword before I've landed. The robed figure behind me snickers even as he scrambles backwards, out of my reach. I glare at him with wide eyes and my heart beating about three hundred times a second.

"I don't know who you are, or why you thought that would be funny," I say darkly, "but maybe you should think twice before sneaking up on an armed man and scaring the Hell out of him." He's dressed like the Cleric (assuming my initial assumption about the guy's identity was correct), with thick, heavy brown robes, and a matching cowl pulled up over his head so I can't see his face, but it's definitely not the Cleric. For one thing, the Cleric was wider in the shoulders and chest, and a little taller too, I think. For another, the Cleric carried a level of authority in his posture and voice, and this guy has a different feel. Less unflinching authority, and more casual assumption that you'll listen to what he has to say. It's horribly familiar, but I don't place it until he crosses his arms and shifts his weight with a little "heh", that I'd know anywhere. I straighten and gape at the cowled figure, not daring to hope, not daring to breathe, not daring to look away.

"You look," says the figure in a painfully familiar voice, "like a fish with your mouth open like that. It's not particularly attractive, I wouldn't recommend trying that one on Zelda." He reaches up and pulls down his hood, revealing short, wavy dark hair, a set of eyes that aren't quite blue and aren't quite green, and a smirk that makes me want to hug him until he can't breathe and knock all his teeth out at the same time.

"Also," adds Hunter of the Sheikah, eyes twinkling with amusement, "for someone called the Hero of Time, you scream an awful lot like a little girl…"