Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's mine.
I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought up by
Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to write
about them.
Chapter 9
I am completely oblivious to my new company now, engrossed in this new information. My mind races to all possible connections with Keal that Ramala might have. He's too old to have any normal relation to them, perhaps some distant cousin or even a grandfather, though disgusting as that sounds. Without taking my eyes away from the tombstone, I grab the handle of the lantern, lifting it up to the grave in the hopes that the name might change, though it doesn't. The light from the lamp does happen to fall on the hideous, decaying form of a redead just before me, and I back up at least ten feet as fast as I can before running into something spongy, pushing it backwards as well. Holding the lantern up, I can now make out about ten of these guys, and there are more appearing out of nowhere every second. Damn, I really, really, really hate redeads.
Now alerted to my awareness of their presence, the creatures are beginning to make those horrible, low-pitched groaning noises. I quickly put my left hand over my eyes, remembering how fatal eye contact with these monsters can be once they realize you're watching them. One glance and you're paralyzed, just long enough for them to do their handiwork. Glancing under my fingers, I can still see the ground and the lower halves of a few of their bodies. They look like the remains of Hylians, but with clawed hands and feet and a strange, yet eerie, wooden mask. Unfortunately, as time progresses more and more redeads become visible, making a full circle of about twenty around me.
Now that I'm completely surrounded, I find it a good time to become un- surrounded. It's been my experience that redeads don't much like fire, since their skin—what's left of it, anyway—is so dried out. I frantically swing the lantern around at the monsters, not to hit them but in the hopes to drive them away. My efforts are successful for a few moments, the light forcing the redeads backward a few feet. Once I notice that they are far enough for me to make a break for it, I do just that, continuing to swing the lantern in front of me. I think I'm heading in the direction of the temple, but all I can see is the ground about three feet in front of me as I run, my hand still over my direct line of sight. As I dart through the graveyard, I don't have time to react to a withered branch on the ground, which grabs my ankle from under me and hurls me forward, the lantern flying into a nearby redead. Red flames engulf the monster, it's shrill screams of pain echoing for miles. I don't have time to laugh at the nearly humorous sight for the simple fact that two score redeads are coming after me. I land hard on my chest, but am scrambling to my feet before the dust beneath me can settle.
My eyes are uncovered now, as I can't very well rely on my torch now—though, the flaming redead gives, in addition to some humor, a bit of light to let me know the temple is just ahead. Racing at full speed, I slam my body into the cold stone of the door, it's weight no resistance to my force. Without thought, I slam the stone slab shut, a loud booming noise echoing throughout the temple as I do so. I lean against the door and attempt to catch my breath, allthewhile examining the inside of the temple once again. The moonlight bounces off the grayish marble, illuminating the entire interior with a soft array of colors cast by the stained glass windows, each created with its own set of hues. I stare blankly at them, the ones on the left side of the cathedral ranging from blue to red, and the ones on the right with oranges and purples. The windows seem to blend together into the larger, more colorful window in the center of the wall above me. It's too dark to tell what the window depicts, but whatever it is in the center of the window must be important.
My attention is quickly torn from the window as the sound of claws scraping against stone screeches toward my ears from the other side of the door. The door shakes violently as they try to ram it—probably with their own bodies, the poor idiots. I turn toward the door, take a step back, and watch it with tiring eyes as it wobbles lightly with a low, rumbling sound. That's the neat thing about redeads, really. They are completely brainless. I've never once seen them open a—
The door shifts slightly to the right as three sharp, deadly claws protrude from the newly created crevice. I spring toward the door again, using as much force as possible to force the door back. Strength, I realize, is not one of my better attributes, as the door begins to steadily slide to the left, revealing a monsterous hand, the owner of not three, but five rather daunting clawed fingers.
"Since when can a redead open a door!?" I exclaim as I vainly try to close the door.
"Many things are possible when you meddle with fate." I whip around to see the old man from the graveyard staring coldly at me, his arms crossed in an I-told-you-so kind of way.
"What do you mean, 'fate'?" I ask sharply before spinning to hold the door again. "Help me, their coming through!"
"I cannot help you. No one can." I can feel my brow furrow as I strain to keep the door in place, at least.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?" My voice echoes loudly through the temple, nearly drowning out the growing volume of the monsters' moans.
"It will be your fate. You cannot change it, and neither can your counterpart." He looks up at the large, dimmed window in the front of the temple. "Go back while you still can." Before I can interject, his very being fades into thin air, leaving no trace of his existence. I can hear the marble edges of the door begin to crumble as another hand sweeps through the opening, one of its claws managing to slice into my arm. I promptly snatch my hand back toward me, using my right alone to hold the door, but to no avail. I decide to abandon my post, darting toward the large, wooden doors at the front of the chapel. Remembering how easily they opened, I throw my shoulder into one of them, hoping that with my momentum the door won't slow me down much. A loud, crunching sound fills the room, and the impact throws me backward to the cold, hard marble tile below. Someone's decided to lock me in. Wonderful.
Remarkably, I feel only a little pain in my shoulder, though I surely thought I had broken or dislocated it. I jump to my feet just in time to notice that they have completely opened the door and are now flooding into the temple. The flaming redead is even here, twirling in agony while lighting up the temple like a giant lantern. I take a brief moment to look up at the now lit window in the front. There's a row of knights in full, silver armor on white horses, on their right a row of darker knights with black horses. The ground under the silver knights is green, while the black knights stand over a dead brown mass of dirt and tangled roots. Behind them all, a tower falls, flames billowing out of it's windows, and atop which floats the symbol of the triforce, the three elegant triangles seeming to glow against the red sky background. This must be a scene from the Imprisoning Wars so long ago.
I'm again distracted from the window when a smaller, wooden podium is launched in my direction. I crouch down just in time, the podium barely missing the top of my head and crashing into the locked doors behind me. There are more redeads pouring through the tiny stone door as I search the temple for another exit. Interestingly enough, there is another small but darker stone door directly opposite the one I came from. Surprised that I didn't see it before, I begin to edge my way toward it, slowly so that the redeads don't become alarmed and lunge after me. This isn't at all brilliant, since they did manage to evolve enough brains to open a door. The creatures move toward my only way out, and I make a run for it and hope that I get to the door before they do.
"Goddesses, don't let it be locked," I huff as I move closer and closer to my destination. Time slows as I dash across the temple; I can hear my heart racing, the redeads clamoring and scrambling over each other to cut me off, the echoing taps of my boots hitting the marble floors. As I approach, I skid to a halt in front of the door, which I quickly notice has a relief not of the Sacred Realm but of Hell itself. Any other time I wouldn't dare go through that door, but something tells me it's got to be safer than the Sacred Realm door. The dark stone slab moves with unexpected ease, and I slip in and slam it shut in one solid motion before the monsters can even get near me. It's pitch black wherever I am, but I am forced to move forward when I hear the familiar sound of claws scraping against stone. Placing one foot carefully in front of me, I feel the ground to make sure there are no obstructions or sudden drops, only to find that I am at the top of a stair case. I'm not sure how far it goes, but at this point I really don't care.
Running my fingers along what feels like a crumbling brick wall, I slowly make my way down while pondering what just happened. Redeads come from nowhere, chase me into a temple that has mysteriously become locked, an old guy tells me... Oh, what did he say? Something about not being able to change fate, and that no one can help me. And something about a... counterpart? The old loon, I don't have a counterpart, unless he means...Keal. Everything about this town is becoming so creepy, not to mention the now smarter redeads. My thoughts are ended as I step on solid ground, though slick and uneven as it is. I'm somewhere underground now, and there is no sign of light or life anywhere. A part of me wants to go back for fear of more unearthly creatures that like to lurk in the dark, but the rest of me has common sense.
Taking a few steps into what I believe is an open space—probably a small room—I hit the tip of my boot on something, causing it to roll forward. Slowly I crouch down to find the item, probably a rock or torch or something. As I make my way forward my fingers search the ground, taking in every crevice, every stone, until finally coming into contact with something much larger. I run an index finger over it, then two fingers, patting my hand along the way to try to identify it as a familiar shape. It feels a little like wood, but rounder and thinner. There are small ripple-like textures covering the surface, except for the top which is perfectly round. Eventually my fingers make it around to the back of the object before falling through a large hole. I pause, unsure of what I'm dealing with. My fingers run down and into another hole with sharper sides, then down to a very bumpy area. They feel like... teeth. Snatching my hand away, I try to jump up, but halfway I hit my head on the surprisingly low ceiling. A bit of profanity escapes my lips as I rub the back of my head gingerly, wondering how the ceiling could get so low so quickly, and also why there are bones on the floor. I'm beginning to realize just how bad my entire week has been, from awful to worse. I really hate the dark.
I can feel a slight breeze coming from ahead, but due to the fact that I can't stand all the way up I reluctantly crouch back down to find it's source. Resorting to a hands-and-knees approach, I crawl forward, my hands passing over the rough surface of the cobblestone floor. Every once and a while, I find a random object, such as a small bone, a pebble, a bug. I hate bugs. Especially the ones like the spider that just crunched under the heel of my hand. Disgusted, I try to wipe off the guts on the ground, which only gets more dirt stuck to my hand. It's deathly silent, with the exception of my movements and an occasional flutter or squeak, the owners of which I'd prefer not to meet. Small beads of sweat drip down my forehead in a hopeless attempt to cool myself down. They do, however, prove useful in finding the draft. I turn slightly to my right, following the cool breeze that pours over my face. I'm almost there.
I wish I had had more of a warning of just how close I was before hitting my nose on a wall. Jerking backward, I feel the wall before me, it's cracks much deeper than in the other walls. The bricks are a bit loose, and with the right amount of force I could probably push my way through. I brace myself and take hold of my left arm before ramming it into the wall. The first two tries only shakes dust from the walls. I give a bit of a cough before my third attempt, which sends me toppling over stray bricks and down a step or two onto a cold, damp dirt path. There's a fog of dust taking over my surroundings, high barred windows giving admittance to fresh moonlight echoing off the powdery clouds and filling the room with a bluish aura. I stand up, patting the dirt from my tunic while getting a good look around. Though I do like the light, I prefer the darkness to this sight. Skulls line the walls from top to bottom, with the exception of a few holes where the bones have fallen from their resting places. Before me lay what remains of ancient catacombs, probably running throughout the city's underground. The floor is lined with stray bones, piled a good two feet against the walls, which soar to a height of at least twenty-five feet. It's very hard to breathe down here, considering the dust I just stirred, not to mention the extreme dankness and horrid smell of rotting flesh.
I make my way through the endless streams of tunnels for at least an hour before coming to an intersection between my route and four other passageways, three well-lit and the other very dark. Choosing the center of the three well-lit tunnels—the center is usually a good choice—I walk on, puddles of water soon becoming a small river. Soon, I'm knee-deep in black, murky water, something I'm not all too fond of. I continue, however, toward a low mass some fifty feet ahead. I can see something running up the wall just past it, and I'm praying to Din that it's a ladder. As I get closer, I can make out the mass to be the skeletal remains of a soldier of some type, and—Goddesses! Is that a sword? And shield! Yes! It's my mostly-unlucky-but-getting-nearly-lucky day!
The shield is small, and practically crumbles at my touch. The sword, however, is a very old and very durable longsword. There isn't a scratch on the slender sword with the exception of a circular mark on the hilt, probably some unheard-of-craftsman's mark. The sheath to the skeleton's side is decaying slightly, but with some repairs would be just fine. I untie it from the corpse's belt and tie it to my own, careful not to snap the rotted cords. I sheathe my new weapon and look ahead to see a vertical ladder, and I thank the goddesses for such fortune. I run toward it, overly excited to find a way out of this clutter of catacombs. The rungs of the ladder have no dust on them, while the sides are caked in a muddy mess. Without giving it a second thought, I'm already at the top of the ladder and pushing a hatch upward. It's a little hard to budge at first, but I give it a good shove and it opens right up, up into a very bright and very congested room.
The hatch is opened only enough for me to get a good look, and luckily no one notices me. There are at least fifty persons inside, all chattering and most of them drunk. They wander around the room from person to person, and I wonder if this is perhaps some kind of convention or party. I can feel my eyes growing heavier as I watch—goddesses, I need sleep. I don't have time to think on the matter, for a loud knocking sound at one end of the room above me catches everyone's attention, and everything is silent for a moment. I can hear a low, dull voice speaking, but I can't make out who it is or what he's saying for quite a few moments. His voice is suddenly growing louder, and after a minute I can make out a few words.
"...for all of you. And there is, without doubt, a disturbance in the process. Fortunately, it is not terribly grave, and you are all advised to carry out..." I can feel myself begin to drift off, but I give my head a shake to ward off the oncoming illusions of sleep. After all, if I were to fall asleep now, I'd fall a good thirty feet down into a stinking puddle of really gross water. I force myself to listen a little while longer. "...and in the end, you will all be rewarded. As for..." Damn it, there's something crawling up my arm. I smack at myself mindlessly to stop whatever insect might have found it's way into my sleeve. "...and just as predicted, our guest has arrived right on schedule!" I'm busy searching myself for creepy- crawlies when someone kicks the hatch open, revealing a very stunned and very ridiculous-looking me. My eyes are wide with panic, and I frantically search the room for whoever revealed my cheap hiding place. "I've been waiting for you, Link." A smiling Hellpahrn offers a hand in a gesture of, dare I say it, good will. Of course, this is offset by the fact that, after pulling me up to his level, he throws me into the arms of two other guys, each of which are cursed with a horribly firm grip.
"You see," he says to the arena of people—mostly men—around him, "Just as I predicted." He turns to me with a devilish grin. "Now hold him tightly, men." As they obey his command—not comfortably for me, I might add—he pulls a tiny bottle of blue liquid from a pouch at his waist. "You remember these, don't you Link?" He uncorks it. "After all, you are the one who so kindly brought them to me." As he speaks, he produces a long, slender dagger whose blade seems to waver back and forth. "Now hold still."
Uh...no! Squirming is given a new definition as I fight for my freedom from his thugs. As Hellpahrn closes in on me, the bottle's contents tickle my senses again, making me sneeze all over him. I don't have time to laugh, though, since he slashes down at me with the dagger, ripping down the front of my tunic. There goes another one. An instant wave of pain shoots through my chest, but it fades almost as quickly as it arrived. Hellpahrn smiles and turns back toward the crowd.
"No blood! You see, Link here is quite immune to us." Now I'm more confused than ever. "Had he not crossed the waves of time and fate, he would be a bloody mess!" He turns back toward me, his eyes narrowing in an evil glare, perhaps even scarier than the looks of pure hatred that Ganondorf had so often given me. Dipping the tip of the blade into the small bottle, he raises his dagger into the air. "Now watch, with the help of this magical serum, as I change both his fate and mine!" He aims the dagger at my throat, and I only have one reaction: squirm. Squirm like you've never squirmed before!
The dagger flies at my neck, and I try to jump away from it, my restrainers keeping me fairly low. I do, however, change the point of impact. The blade glides down from the bottom of my neck, over my collarbone, toward my stomach. It stops short of spilling my poor, reckless guts everywhere, and is retracted by a less-than-shocked Hellpahrn. Actually, he seems rather happy. Asshole.
The wound doesn't open immediately. Instead, I feel a strange stinging feeling, followed by—what else—pain, my most loathed sensation. Soon there's warm fluid running down my stomach, saturating my clothes in a crimson mess. Gasping comes from the audience as they watch with glee at my torment. That does it.
"Hey, Helly!" As he turns to me, I exert as much strength as I can into leaning back into a flip, giving him a good, swift kick in the jaw. He falls backwards, and the two men holding my arms release me, allowing me to fall onto my back. Even though I can't really move at the moment, with the exception of clutching at my chest in a sad attempt to stop the bleeding, I feel a grand sense of achievement. My new wound burns, but I don't care. For the moment, I am happy.
A slightly silhouetted figure stands over me, lightly rubbing his jaw. "You look like you're not feeling well, Link."
"You look like a jackass," I utter through clenched teeth. His smile wilts into a frown, only adding to my satisfaction.
"You still have not learned to hold that tongue of yours." Still in severe pain, I force my right arm up to my face, and in a manner of extreme sarcasm and stupidity, physically hold my tongue with two fingers. This only makes Hellpahrn angrier, his brow furrowing even more until his eyes are almost invisible. "Perhaps a small cut isn't a strong enough lesson for you." He raises his dagger, but in mid thrust stops himself. Judging by his expression, he has come to some sort of realization that he can't kill me for some strange reason. He's had so many opportunities, especially now, but instead just leaves me lying on the floor like some injured animal. Of course, this leaves a perfect gap for my big mouth to jump in.
"What's wrong? You seemed fine with trying to kill Ramala and Delphie. What's wrong with one more kid?" Astonishingly, his eyes widen in both panic and defiance.
"I never intended to kill Delphie!" Just Delphie? What about Ramala? Why would he kill one, and not the other? Perhaps because he killed her father as well, and since Delphie doesn't have the same father...
"Why not? You tried to kill Ramala."
"She was born of filth!" A voice sounds in the back, and Hellpahrn looks simply terrified for the first time ever. I lift my head to watch as a burly man forces his way through the crowd, revealing himself as none other than Kealthrus Shikarhu. He stomps up to Hellpahrn like a crazed madman. Definitely mad...
"What do you mean, 'filth'?!" he exclaims, taking Hellpahrn by the collar of his shirt. "He was my brother!"
"Unhand me now or you will not have him." They stare at each other a moment before Hellpahrn continues. "I do not pay you to assault me, and if you do it again I will have you killed. It's not entirely out of character for me." The two stop and look down at me. My face consists of a menagerie of expressions, including extreme confusion, anguish, and definite and uncanny shock. Keal releases Hellpahrn, who turns to me.
"Link, I believe you know Kealthrus," he gestures toward the jerk. "He's been working under me for quite some time." Surprise, surprise. I turn toward him in disbelief.
"If you wanted to kill me, why didn't you do it back in Mercia, or at the base?" As I speak, I can feel a burning, sick feeling welling up inside my chest, just under the wound. I lower my head in an attempt to remain still; I'm afraid if I move too much, I might start coughing up blood.
"That was before I found out what you were going to do to him!" Keal shouts.
"To who?"
"My brother and his wife! You murderer!"
"I didn't do anything! It was him!" I raise a trembling hand to point at Hellpahrn, who shakes his head defiantly at Keal.
"He's delusional."
"You didn't do it yet, but you will! The soothsayer told me you would!" Keal points at Hellpahrn, whose head is elevated slightly in an air of conceit.
"But—He's the one that did it! They are already dead, and it's his fault!" Keal looks at Hellpahrn again, this time confused.
"What does he mean, Korpus?"
"He doesn't know yet," Hellpahrn replies.
"You mean, he thinks we're still—"
"I'm afraid so."
"Still what?" I interject.
"You'll have to tell him, won't you?"
"Not now."
"Tell me what?" I plea.
"Perhaps it's best that he doesn't know."
"Indubitably."
"Know what?" This is getting ridiculous.
The two men hover over me, smiling grotesquely. Keal shoots a glance at Hellpahrn, who nods back. I have a feeling they aren't going to tell me anything when Keal's fist is plunged toward my head, rendering me cataleptic for the time being. It's a nice feeling, really. Darkness envelopes me, cradling my restless body with a comforting haze of oblivion.
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A/N:
Yay! I finally finished the important chapter! Sorry it took so long. Lots of important info here, kids. Let's not forget any of it, ok? I hope you liked it. I spent a lot of time on it, and if you don't like it it will hurt my feelings! :P Ok, maybe not, but still. Let me know if you thought it sucked, but I prefer happy reviews. Whatever. Just PLEASE REVIEW!!!
Chapter 9
I am completely oblivious to my new company now, engrossed in this new information. My mind races to all possible connections with Keal that Ramala might have. He's too old to have any normal relation to them, perhaps some distant cousin or even a grandfather, though disgusting as that sounds. Without taking my eyes away from the tombstone, I grab the handle of the lantern, lifting it up to the grave in the hopes that the name might change, though it doesn't. The light from the lamp does happen to fall on the hideous, decaying form of a redead just before me, and I back up at least ten feet as fast as I can before running into something spongy, pushing it backwards as well. Holding the lantern up, I can now make out about ten of these guys, and there are more appearing out of nowhere every second. Damn, I really, really, really hate redeads.
Now alerted to my awareness of their presence, the creatures are beginning to make those horrible, low-pitched groaning noises. I quickly put my left hand over my eyes, remembering how fatal eye contact with these monsters can be once they realize you're watching them. One glance and you're paralyzed, just long enough for them to do their handiwork. Glancing under my fingers, I can still see the ground and the lower halves of a few of their bodies. They look like the remains of Hylians, but with clawed hands and feet and a strange, yet eerie, wooden mask. Unfortunately, as time progresses more and more redeads become visible, making a full circle of about twenty around me.
Now that I'm completely surrounded, I find it a good time to become un- surrounded. It's been my experience that redeads don't much like fire, since their skin—what's left of it, anyway—is so dried out. I frantically swing the lantern around at the monsters, not to hit them but in the hopes to drive them away. My efforts are successful for a few moments, the light forcing the redeads backward a few feet. Once I notice that they are far enough for me to make a break for it, I do just that, continuing to swing the lantern in front of me. I think I'm heading in the direction of the temple, but all I can see is the ground about three feet in front of me as I run, my hand still over my direct line of sight. As I dart through the graveyard, I don't have time to react to a withered branch on the ground, which grabs my ankle from under me and hurls me forward, the lantern flying into a nearby redead. Red flames engulf the monster, it's shrill screams of pain echoing for miles. I don't have time to laugh at the nearly humorous sight for the simple fact that two score redeads are coming after me. I land hard on my chest, but am scrambling to my feet before the dust beneath me can settle.
My eyes are uncovered now, as I can't very well rely on my torch now—though, the flaming redead gives, in addition to some humor, a bit of light to let me know the temple is just ahead. Racing at full speed, I slam my body into the cold stone of the door, it's weight no resistance to my force. Without thought, I slam the stone slab shut, a loud booming noise echoing throughout the temple as I do so. I lean against the door and attempt to catch my breath, allthewhile examining the inside of the temple once again. The moonlight bounces off the grayish marble, illuminating the entire interior with a soft array of colors cast by the stained glass windows, each created with its own set of hues. I stare blankly at them, the ones on the left side of the cathedral ranging from blue to red, and the ones on the right with oranges and purples. The windows seem to blend together into the larger, more colorful window in the center of the wall above me. It's too dark to tell what the window depicts, but whatever it is in the center of the window must be important.
My attention is quickly torn from the window as the sound of claws scraping against stone screeches toward my ears from the other side of the door. The door shakes violently as they try to ram it—probably with their own bodies, the poor idiots. I turn toward the door, take a step back, and watch it with tiring eyes as it wobbles lightly with a low, rumbling sound. That's the neat thing about redeads, really. They are completely brainless. I've never once seen them open a—
The door shifts slightly to the right as three sharp, deadly claws protrude from the newly created crevice. I spring toward the door again, using as much force as possible to force the door back. Strength, I realize, is not one of my better attributes, as the door begins to steadily slide to the left, revealing a monsterous hand, the owner of not three, but five rather daunting clawed fingers.
"Since when can a redead open a door!?" I exclaim as I vainly try to close the door.
"Many things are possible when you meddle with fate." I whip around to see the old man from the graveyard staring coldly at me, his arms crossed in an I-told-you-so kind of way.
"What do you mean, 'fate'?" I ask sharply before spinning to hold the door again. "Help me, their coming through!"
"I cannot help you. No one can." I can feel my brow furrow as I strain to keep the door in place, at least.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?" My voice echoes loudly through the temple, nearly drowning out the growing volume of the monsters' moans.
"It will be your fate. You cannot change it, and neither can your counterpart." He looks up at the large, dimmed window in the front of the temple. "Go back while you still can." Before I can interject, his very being fades into thin air, leaving no trace of his existence. I can hear the marble edges of the door begin to crumble as another hand sweeps through the opening, one of its claws managing to slice into my arm. I promptly snatch my hand back toward me, using my right alone to hold the door, but to no avail. I decide to abandon my post, darting toward the large, wooden doors at the front of the chapel. Remembering how easily they opened, I throw my shoulder into one of them, hoping that with my momentum the door won't slow me down much. A loud, crunching sound fills the room, and the impact throws me backward to the cold, hard marble tile below. Someone's decided to lock me in. Wonderful.
Remarkably, I feel only a little pain in my shoulder, though I surely thought I had broken or dislocated it. I jump to my feet just in time to notice that they have completely opened the door and are now flooding into the temple. The flaming redead is even here, twirling in agony while lighting up the temple like a giant lantern. I take a brief moment to look up at the now lit window in the front. There's a row of knights in full, silver armor on white horses, on their right a row of darker knights with black horses. The ground under the silver knights is green, while the black knights stand over a dead brown mass of dirt and tangled roots. Behind them all, a tower falls, flames billowing out of it's windows, and atop which floats the symbol of the triforce, the three elegant triangles seeming to glow against the red sky background. This must be a scene from the Imprisoning Wars so long ago.
I'm again distracted from the window when a smaller, wooden podium is launched in my direction. I crouch down just in time, the podium barely missing the top of my head and crashing into the locked doors behind me. There are more redeads pouring through the tiny stone door as I search the temple for another exit. Interestingly enough, there is another small but darker stone door directly opposite the one I came from. Surprised that I didn't see it before, I begin to edge my way toward it, slowly so that the redeads don't become alarmed and lunge after me. This isn't at all brilliant, since they did manage to evolve enough brains to open a door. The creatures move toward my only way out, and I make a run for it and hope that I get to the door before they do.
"Goddesses, don't let it be locked," I huff as I move closer and closer to my destination. Time slows as I dash across the temple; I can hear my heart racing, the redeads clamoring and scrambling over each other to cut me off, the echoing taps of my boots hitting the marble floors. As I approach, I skid to a halt in front of the door, which I quickly notice has a relief not of the Sacred Realm but of Hell itself. Any other time I wouldn't dare go through that door, but something tells me it's got to be safer than the Sacred Realm door. The dark stone slab moves with unexpected ease, and I slip in and slam it shut in one solid motion before the monsters can even get near me. It's pitch black wherever I am, but I am forced to move forward when I hear the familiar sound of claws scraping against stone. Placing one foot carefully in front of me, I feel the ground to make sure there are no obstructions or sudden drops, only to find that I am at the top of a stair case. I'm not sure how far it goes, but at this point I really don't care.
Running my fingers along what feels like a crumbling brick wall, I slowly make my way down while pondering what just happened. Redeads come from nowhere, chase me into a temple that has mysteriously become locked, an old guy tells me... Oh, what did he say? Something about not being able to change fate, and that no one can help me. And something about a... counterpart? The old loon, I don't have a counterpart, unless he means...Keal. Everything about this town is becoming so creepy, not to mention the now smarter redeads. My thoughts are ended as I step on solid ground, though slick and uneven as it is. I'm somewhere underground now, and there is no sign of light or life anywhere. A part of me wants to go back for fear of more unearthly creatures that like to lurk in the dark, but the rest of me has common sense.
Taking a few steps into what I believe is an open space—probably a small room—I hit the tip of my boot on something, causing it to roll forward. Slowly I crouch down to find the item, probably a rock or torch or something. As I make my way forward my fingers search the ground, taking in every crevice, every stone, until finally coming into contact with something much larger. I run an index finger over it, then two fingers, patting my hand along the way to try to identify it as a familiar shape. It feels a little like wood, but rounder and thinner. There are small ripple-like textures covering the surface, except for the top which is perfectly round. Eventually my fingers make it around to the back of the object before falling through a large hole. I pause, unsure of what I'm dealing with. My fingers run down and into another hole with sharper sides, then down to a very bumpy area. They feel like... teeth. Snatching my hand away, I try to jump up, but halfway I hit my head on the surprisingly low ceiling. A bit of profanity escapes my lips as I rub the back of my head gingerly, wondering how the ceiling could get so low so quickly, and also why there are bones on the floor. I'm beginning to realize just how bad my entire week has been, from awful to worse. I really hate the dark.
I can feel a slight breeze coming from ahead, but due to the fact that I can't stand all the way up I reluctantly crouch back down to find it's source. Resorting to a hands-and-knees approach, I crawl forward, my hands passing over the rough surface of the cobblestone floor. Every once and a while, I find a random object, such as a small bone, a pebble, a bug. I hate bugs. Especially the ones like the spider that just crunched under the heel of my hand. Disgusted, I try to wipe off the guts on the ground, which only gets more dirt stuck to my hand. It's deathly silent, with the exception of my movements and an occasional flutter or squeak, the owners of which I'd prefer not to meet. Small beads of sweat drip down my forehead in a hopeless attempt to cool myself down. They do, however, prove useful in finding the draft. I turn slightly to my right, following the cool breeze that pours over my face. I'm almost there.
I wish I had had more of a warning of just how close I was before hitting my nose on a wall. Jerking backward, I feel the wall before me, it's cracks much deeper than in the other walls. The bricks are a bit loose, and with the right amount of force I could probably push my way through. I brace myself and take hold of my left arm before ramming it into the wall. The first two tries only shakes dust from the walls. I give a bit of a cough before my third attempt, which sends me toppling over stray bricks and down a step or two onto a cold, damp dirt path. There's a fog of dust taking over my surroundings, high barred windows giving admittance to fresh moonlight echoing off the powdery clouds and filling the room with a bluish aura. I stand up, patting the dirt from my tunic while getting a good look around. Though I do like the light, I prefer the darkness to this sight. Skulls line the walls from top to bottom, with the exception of a few holes where the bones have fallen from their resting places. Before me lay what remains of ancient catacombs, probably running throughout the city's underground. The floor is lined with stray bones, piled a good two feet against the walls, which soar to a height of at least twenty-five feet. It's very hard to breathe down here, considering the dust I just stirred, not to mention the extreme dankness and horrid smell of rotting flesh.
I make my way through the endless streams of tunnels for at least an hour before coming to an intersection between my route and four other passageways, three well-lit and the other very dark. Choosing the center of the three well-lit tunnels—the center is usually a good choice—I walk on, puddles of water soon becoming a small river. Soon, I'm knee-deep in black, murky water, something I'm not all too fond of. I continue, however, toward a low mass some fifty feet ahead. I can see something running up the wall just past it, and I'm praying to Din that it's a ladder. As I get closer, I can make out the mass to be the skeletal remains of a soldier of some type, and—Goddesses! Is that a sword? And shield! Yes! It's my mostly-unlucky-but-getting-nearly-lucky day!
The shield is small, and practically crumbles at my touch. The sword, however, is a very old and very durable longsword. There isn't a scratch on the slender sword with the exception of a circular mark on the hilt, probably some unheard-of-craftsman's mark. The sheath to the skeleton's side is decaying slightly, but with some repairs would be just fine. I untie it from the corpse's belt and tie it to my own, careful not to snap the rotted cords. I sheathe my new weapon and look ahead to see a vertical ladder, and I thank the goddesses for such fortune. I run toward it, overly excited to find a way out of this clutter of catacombs. The rungs of the ladder have no dust on them, while the sides are caked in a muddy mess. Without giving it a second thought, I'm already at the top of the ladder and pushing a hatch upward. It's a little hard to budge at first, but I give it a good shove and it opens right up, up into a very bright and very congested room.
The hatch is opened only enough for me to get a good look, and luckily no one notices me. There are at least fifty persons inside, all chattering and most of them drunk. They wander around the room from person to person, and I wonder if this is perhaps some kind of convention or party. I can feel my eyes growing heavier as I watch—goddesses, I need sleep. I don't have time to think on the matter, for a loud knocking sound at one end of the room above me catches everyone's attention, and everything is silent for a moment. I can hear a low, dull voice speaking, but I can't make out who it is or what he's saying for quite a few moments. His voice is suddenly growing louder, and after a minute I can make out a few words.
"...for all of you. And there is, without doubt, a disturbance in the process. Fortunately, it is not terribly grave, and you are all advised to carry out..." I can feel myself begin to drift off, but I give my head a shake to ward off the oncoming illusions of sleep. After all, if I were to fall asleep now, I'd fall a good thirty feet down into a stinking puddle of really gross water. I force myself to listen a little while longer. "...and in the end, you will all be rewarded. As for..." Damn it, there's something crawling up my arm. I smack at myself mindlessly to stop whatever insect might have found it's way into my sleeve. "...and just as predicted, our guest has arrived right on schedule!" I'm busy searching myself for creepy- crawlies when someone kicks the hatch open, revealing a very stunned and very ridiculous-looking me. My eyes are wide with panic, and I frantically search the room for whoever revealed my cheap hiding place. "I've been waiting for you, Link." A smiling Hellpahrn offers a hand in a gesture of, dare I say it, good will. Of course, this is offset by the fact that, after pulling me up to his level, he throws me into the arms of two other guys, each of which are cursed with a horribly firm grip.
"You see," he says to the arena of people—mostly men—around him, "Just as I predicted." He turns to me with a devilish grin. "Now hold him tightly, men." As they obey his command—not comfortably for me, I might add—he pulls a tiny bottle of blue liquid from a pouch at his waist. "You remember these, don't you Link?" He uncorks it. "After all, you are the one who so kindly brought them to me." As he speaks, he produces a long, slender dagger whose blade seems to waver back and forth. "Now hold still."
Uh...no! Squirming is given a new definition as I fight for my freedom from his thugs. As Hellpahrn closes in on me, the bottle's contents tickle my senses again, making me sneeze all over him. I don't have time to laugh, though, since he slashes down at me with the dagger, ripping down the front of my tunic. There goes another one. An instant wave of pain shoots through my chest, but it fades almost as quickly as it arrived. Hellpahrn smiles and turns back toward the crowd.
"No blood! You see, Link here is quite immune to us." Now I'm more confused than ever. "Had he not crossed the waves of time and fate, he would be a bloody mess!" He turns back toward me, his eyes narrowing in an evil glare, perhaps even scarier than the looks of pure hatred that Ganondorf had so often given me. Dipping the tip of the blade into the small bottle, he raises his dagger into the air. "Now watch, with the help of this magical serum, as I change both his fate and mine!" He aims the dagger at my throat, and I only have one reaction: squirm. Squirm like you've never squirmed before!
The dagger flies at my neck, and I try to jump away from it, my restrainers keeping me fairly low. I do, however, change the point of impact. The blade glides down from the bottom of my neck, over my collarbone, toward my stomach. It stops short of spilling my poor, reckless guts everywhere, and is retracted by a less-than-shocked Hellpahrn. Actually, he seems rather happy. Asshole.
The wound doesn't open immediately. Instead, I feel a strange stinging feeling, followed by—what else—pain, my most loathed sensation. Soon there's warm fluid running down my stomach, saturating my clothes in a crimson mess. Gasping comes from the audience as they watch with glee at my torment. That does it.
"Hey, Helly!" As he turns to me, I exert as much strength as I can into leaning back into a flip, giving him a good, swift kick in the jaw. He falls backwards, and the two men holding my arms release me, allowing me to fall onto my back. Even though I can't really move at the moment, with the exception of clutching at my chest in a sad attempt to stop the bleeding, I feel a grand sense of achievement. My new wound burns, but I don't care. For the moment, I am happy.
A slightly silhouetted figure stands over me, lightly rubbing his jaw. "You look like you're not feeling well, Link."
"You look like a jackass," I utter through clenched teeth. His smile wilts into a frown, only adding to my satisfaction.
"You still have not learned to hold that tongue of yours." Still in severe pain, I force my right arm up to my face, and in a manner of extreme sarcasm and stupidity, physically hold my tongue with two fingers. This only makes Hellpahrn angrier, his brow furrowing even more until his eyes are almost invisible. "Perhaps a small cut isn't a strong enough lesson for you." He raises his dagger, but in mid thrust stops himself. Judging by his expression, he has come to some sort of realization that he can't kill me for some strange reason. He's had so many opportunities, especially now, but instead just leaves me lying on the floor like some injured animal. Of course, this leaves a perfect gap for my big mouth to jump in.
"What's wrong? You seemed fine with trying to kill Ramala and Delphie. What's wrong with one more kid?" Astonishingly, his eyes widen in both panic and defiance.
"I never intended to kill Delphie!" Just Delphie? What about Ramala? Why would he kill one, and not the other? Perhaps because he killed her father as well, and since Delphie doesn't have the same father...
"Why not? You tried to kill Ramala."
"She was born of filth!" A voice sounds in the back, and Hellpahrn looks simply terrified for the first time ever. I lift my head to watch as a burly man forces his way through the crowd, revealing himself as none other than Kealthrus Shikarhu. He stomps up to Hellpahrn like a crazed madman. Definitely mad...
"What do you mean, 'filth'?!" he exclaims, taking Hellpahrn by the collar of his shirt. "He was my brother!"
"Unhand me now or you will not have him." They stare at each other a moment before Hellpahrn continues. "I do not pay you to assault me, and if you do it again I will have you killed. It's not entirely out of character for me." The two stop and look down at me. My face consists of a menagerie of expressions, including extreme confusion, anguish, and definite and uncanny shock. Keal releases Hellpahrn, who turns to me.
"Link, I believe you know Kealthrus," he gestures toward the jerk. "He's been working under me for quite some time." Surprise, surprise. I turn toward him in disbelief.
"If you wanted to kill me, why didn't you do it back in Mercia, or at the base?" As I speak, I can feel a burning, sick feeling welling up inside my chest, just under the wound. I lower my head in an attempt to remain still; I'm afraid if I move too much, I might start coughing up blood.
"That was before I found out what you were going to do to him!" Keal shouts.
"To who?"
"My brother and his wife! You murderer!"
"I didn't do anything! It was him!" I raise a trembling hand to point at Hellpahrn, who shakes his head defiantly at Keal.
"He's delusional."
"You didn't do it yet, but you will! The soothsayer told me you would!" Keal points at Hellpahrn, whose head is elevated slightly in an air of conceit.
"But—He's the one that did it! They are already dead, and it's his fault!" Keal looks at Hellpahrn again, this time confused.
"What does he mean, Korpus?"
"He doesn't know yet," Hellpahrn replies.
"You mean, he thinks we're still—"
"I'm afraid so."
"Still what?" I interject.
"You'll have to tell him, won't you?"
"Not now."
"Tell me what?" I plea.
"Perhaps it's best that he doesn't know."
"Indubitably."
"Know what?" This is getting ridiculous.
The two men hover over me, smiling grotesquely. Keal shoots a glance at Hellpahrn, who nods back. I have a feeling they aren't going to tell me anything when Keal's fist is plunged toward my head, rendering me cataleptic for the time being. It's a nice feeling, really. Darkness envelopes me, cradling my restless body with a comforting haze of oblivion.
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A/N:
Yay! I finally finished the important chapter! Sorry it took so long. Lots of important info here, kids. Let's not forget any of it, ok? I hope you liked it. I spent a lot of time on it, and if you don't like it it will hurt my feelings! :P Ok, maybe not, but still. Let me know if you thought it sucked, but I prefer happy reviews. Whatever. Just PLEASE REVIEW!!!