A/N: For chapter titles like this one, they often come about from me researching common idioms way too much.
The Light Invasion
PART II - LIFT THE LIGHT
Region by region, dungeon by dungeon, trial by trial, Link and Midna build a fragile trust.
Chapter 16 - A Monkey on Your Back
How much time had passed during Link's voyage through the void? Hours? Days? Without the sun or moon travelling overhead, without the dark clouds of twilight drifting along, this ride droned at a maddening pace.
Midna stayed in Link's shadow for most of the trip, only peaking from the kargarok's back whenever Link sounded about land ahead. The few floating islands that speckled the distance were as exciting as the first butterfly of spring, but that excitement was dashed when Midna said to keep flying. "We're not there yet, Wolfie."
When a cluster of specks emerged from the white, Link kept a leash on his hope. Just another few deserted boulders, surely, but there was something else, too. Loose threads joining them. Rope bridges?
Dots of light leaked through the spheres. Dozens upon dozens of floating tumbleweeds. Branches twisting around and inward. Were those trees? No, were they forests?
"Midna," Link called. "Is that it?"
She peaked out half a head. "Yep, that's it."
The forests grew larger, but one lorded among the rest. Dwarfing all the smaller spheres was one large enough to bundle all the infrastructure of Castle Town inside and still have room to spare. The branches clustered closer to the centre, blotting out the sky, but the core wasn't lost in the shadows. No. Something gold glowed from within. The destination was clear. Link tilted the kargarok towards it.
Then came a scream from below.
The kargarok lurched to a stop. Link slid back a few inches. Shit. He seized the reins, pulled himself back on the saddle, and steered the mount towards the smaller forest beneath him.
Between the parting branches, spots of gold scampered about. They were shaped like monkeys, and swung through the jungle with the same ease. One plunged a hand into the shadows and pulled out a writhing figure. Peeling, cool grey skin. Flickering teal tattoos. A Twili.
Spikes of shadow poked at the monkey. It dropped the forearm, scurried away, and screeched at the attackers. The heaving Twili clawed their way back to the safety of the shadows and melted into them.
The kargarok landed on a branch above the chaos. Link slid off the spine and gripped the bark. He shimmied down and dropped to the next branch and the next. One misstep could be a rough tumble into the void, but he shouldn't think about that.
Within the globe-like forest, huts and rotundas with cone-like, thatched roofs hung from ropes tied to the branches above. No walkways joined them, but each structure had the same pairs of spheres as the platforms of Luce Prima set where a bridge might otherwise begin or end.
Link snatched the rope of one of the huts and slid down it. His left ankle got stuck in the thatched roof, but a good tug, and he leapt onto the surrounding balcony. The hut swayed with him, to-and-fro, with the void below dipping in and out of sight. He flapped for balance until he toppled over the wooden railing, but he seized it before he was lost for good.
Link hauled himself back on. A moment to catch his breath, and he leapt and kicked himself to the offending monkey's branch. It screeched, released a handful of burnt violet hair, and scurried away down the bark. Link carefully raised himself on two legs and wobbled after it. A knob caught his foot. He fell forward, glomped the branch, and smacked his chin. Pain throbbed. More Twili screamed in agony and fright. Oh, to be a clumsy 'hero' witnessed by the dozens he was trying to save.
"Just leave!" Midna hissed from his shadow. No. The shade had said that Link wasn't enough of a hero, and that changed now. Link got to his feet and ran down the branch towards one of the monkeys throttling a Twili's throat. The monkey looked up. Link drew his sword. The extra weight made him tip left, but a flail and he was right again. Mostly. He stabbed for the head.
The monkey raised the Twili's face, contorted and peeling, as a shield.
Link swerved his attack away, lost his balance, fell from the branch, past the monkey. It laughed. They all laughed, tangling with screams of agony. And they'd surely howl once Link either smashed his spine or vanished into the void.
Something swung into his vision. A rope in orange lightning. Link seized it with one hand. His arm almost popped from his shoulder, his finger-tips were skinned, his palm skid to the frayed tip, and he bounced up and down a few times until he was caught in nothing more than a gentle sway.
He awkwardly sheathed his sword and gripped the rope with both hands. Up up up. C'mon. A monkey screeched above. It was climbing down the rope headfirst. Every metre or so, it shook the rope. Link held tight, his fingerless gloves offering decent grip, but he lost a few inches. What now?
A dark red ball pelted the monkey. It turned and snarled at the translucent Twili as they ducked back into the shadows. It sprung from the rope, caught a high branch, and swung after the offender.
Link climbed up and up and up again. Something pelted him too. Something wet and rotten. Then a second something. And a third. Sticky. Like fruit. Twili bobbed out of shadows to summon those blood-red plums at the tip of their fingers, swing them at him, and hide again. Why? Clearly he was trying to save them! Though he wasn't doing a decent job of it...
He reached up the rope again. A well-timed fruit knocked his hand away. He slowly slid down the rope, fingers rubbing even more raw, when orange lightning caught the vine. It carried him to a nearby branch just above and to the side, where Midna sat waist-up from the shadows.
Link caught the branch on his ankle, pulled himself in the rest of the way, and wrapped his arms and legs around it. Midna ducked into the shadows again. More fruit pelted him, and gods, did those chunky pits pack a punch like pumpkin seeds from a slingshot. One stung his temple. "Midna, please, tell them I'm here to help."
"How about you do what I told you to do before you almost tripped to your death? Leave!" Midna hissed.
More Twili screamed and writhed in the grip of the monkeys. "But the Twi-"
"They can hold their own for a bit! They've made it this long without you."
"But-"
"And you're scaring them! You almost stabbed one of them. They think you're with the enemy."
Link almost 'But' again, but another fruit against his jaw knocked it out of him. There was no arguing for his legitimacy as a saviour. This was yet another failure. Any refusal to accept it could mean falling to his doom.
And accepting it meant proving that the shade's bitter words rang true.
But where to escape? There was a wooden path below leading to a rope bridge about five branches away. Here goes stupid. Link unlatched his legs and swung under the branch. Then let go.
The path crashed into his feet. Another fruit almost toppled him off and into the void, but it shattered into specks just before impact. Great. Balance restored. Now run. He clacked along the path. Another fruit whacked his spine. He fell forward, seized the rope sides of the bridge, and scrambled along.
It creaked and swayed under him. Above the void. In the thick of the void. To think that people lived in such existential horror. Perhaps that would compel Link to throw rotten fruit at strange unknowns too.
The screams and screeches grew more distant, but they did not settle. Not until Link reached the forest sphere no bigger than Lanayru's Spring.
He seated himself among the branches, his feet dangling above the void. The monkeys howled in sour defeat. As specks of gold light, they scampered along the branches, along a distant rope bridge, and up to the ginormous floating forest with the golden centre.
"What is that place?" Link asked, still out of breath.
"The Sphaera Forest," Midna said. "Where the first light spirit is."
"Faron, I bet. They take the form of a monkey, just like those pests." He sighed grimly. "I don't get it. The spirits are supposed to be good. Why are they attacking innocent villagers?"
Midna scoffed. "Maybe they're not as good as you think."
What did Midna know? It's not like her people had a history with the light spirits, unlike Link's.
Urgh, but what did Link know? Almost nothing. Ever since he puzzled into this realm, everything he had believed about his destiny was scattered. The benevolent light spirits had become violent. The shade had grilled Link's shortcomings. And the civilians Link was trying to save? They did not recognise the triangles on his glove or the green of his tunic, and thus pegged him as an intruder. And he was too clumsy to prove otherwise.
Perhaps that was why the shade called Link out. He not only had sloppy morals, but sloppy skills as well. Why? Because Link kept trying to ride on the coat tails of his talent. Talent had gotten him to slay those shadowbeasts, duel Ashei to a draw, and defeat Death Sword with perfect team synergy. But the duel against King Boargorak? The utter clumsy-fest in the village just then? If not for Midna, he would either be a red spatter or a distant speck in the void.
Gods, he could really use some of the shade's hidden skills about now. If only he hadn't begun this quest as such a prideful, ignorant fool. If only he was able to see things however the shade saw them. Then maybe he'd have a chance of surviving this place.
Wolfie dozed in a makeshift hammock between the branches, one made from the woollen blanket Midna had helped him tie securely. At present, she was nestled on a curling branch, watching over him and Malogra Village. For the past few hours, there were no specks of gold, but at any moment, those attacks could continue, and Midna would be no better than any other Twili at driving those monsters out.
How many of her people had been lost already? Scorched or choked by those vile primates? Midna didn't need to know. Not now. Not a good time. She needed to guard this stupidly dense hero that the legends had cast as Twilux's only hope.
But… how many of her subjects had perished? Did those still living, still suffering, wonder where the princess was in all this chaos? Did they scorn her for running away, or did they think that she was imprisoned deep in the palace dungeon? Either way, they were toiling under two forms of tyranny: that of the light spirits and that of Zant, who would continue to neglect all who refused to join his army.
If Midna was one of those citizens alone in the shadows, what would warm her heart? Perhaps a sign from the lost princess. Something that said 'I am here for you, fighting for you.'
Like a skink caught on a hook, Midna was drawn from the trees and along the bridge. The oppressive light prickled her shadow cloak, so she stuck close to the wooden planks where the thin shadows of rope gave her just enough shade to make it across.
She melted into the first tree branch shadow that fell over her. No one saw her hideous form sneaking into the village, did they? It's not like they'd attack her too, as she was clearly one with the shadows just like them, but sols, if anyone ever found out that this was the form their princess had been reduced to, perhaps they'd give into hopelessness and begrudgingly join Zant's vengeful crusade on the light realm.
Oh, but where to go? Even the villagers needed to float in shadow form from one branch or wooden path to the next, exposing their not-at-all-impish silhouettes. All Midna could do –and did– was follow shadow upon shadow like a tadpole trying to find their way through a murky stream. The cage of gnarls and twists rolled around her, until a rather odd 'hut' rose over the bark.
It had a thatched roof, but no walls. Just five narrow pillars of dark grey wood, and circular, teared platforms cluttered and crowded with shiny pots. They were suspended mid-jostle, some almost tipping or hanging off the edge, but they weren't, because Silva's threads –fibres spun from the vines that cascaded off the branches– tied them together.
Urns. Dozens of urns. Shiny. New. And far too small.
These were the casualties of Fabian's attack. Someday, he would pay for it, and each and every life lost would be another smear on his legacy. During all that time wasted at Hyrule Castle, Midna had heard many whisperings about him. Ones of reverence. How would all those soldiers feel if they saw what was before Midna right now? If they knew that every pot was a child, and every village had its own shrine, and every city had several, and that every single urn crowding them was the fault of one man named Prince Fabian Harkinian?
An entire generation wiped out. And for what? No justification existed, but oh, how delightful it would be to see that not-so-charming prince squirm as he tried to justify such genocide. Surely no man could do that with a dashing smile.
But if Midna wanted that moment to come, if she wanted justice for her people, then it began with sowing hope among them. But how could she do that without exposing herself and spewing some empty speech about glory and power when all she embodied was shame and weakness? What was the seed of assurance she could plant now that would blossom once her body and empire were hers again?
A signature. A symbol. A mark that said 'I was here' and nothing more. Not a piece of her time, her attention, her dignity. A piece of her crown. She wasn't powerful, so she couldn't embody power, but the accessory of legacy could. That was something.
She reached out of the shadow, only to her wrist, and snapped the jewel into the physical realm. It hung off a thin chain. A ruby that shone brilliantly in the twilight, but cheaply in the invasive light. It was set in a silver rectangle, from which serpents slithered from the sides and intertwined beneath. With the gentle guide of her finger, Midna brought her treasure to the peak of the pile and looped the chain around it.
But she did not let go.
This was her crown. Her crown. Or a piece of it, at least. She had been raised to wear it, and here she was just… giving it away. Discarding it with the ashes. Doing what little she could to give hope to her people, and ridding herself of that which she was not worthy of.
Midna let go. The trinket chinked against an urn, and a few nearby shadows hummed in mild alarm. Leave. It was time to leave. Time to go on this stupid adventure, give those stupid light spirits the boot, and throttle Zant's stupid throat until he gave her back her body.
Then, and only then, would she be worthy enough to return for her crown.
The bridge creaked and groaned under each step Link made. Behind him, the sphere known as Ma… –Malogra Village?– became all the smaller as the titanic orb known as the Sphaera Forest grew bit by agonising bit. There was still such a long way to go. A lengthy opportunity for the bridge to snap and send him falling through the void for all eternity.
But even if he did make it to the other side (which, rationally, he would), then he would be forced to content with the same terrain that had him tripping and falling and nearly dying 'yesterday'. The branches of Sphaera were more twisted, and less forgiving, than those of Malogra, or so Midna had warned. He was walking into the set up of the most pathetic death that could ever befall a chosen hero: a trip and a fall. Perhaps the goddesses should've selected one of the monkeys of Faron as their champion. At least those critters knew how to navigate branches as well as Link could navigate solid ground.
On the other end of the bridge, something glinted gold. A speck tracing down the bridge. No. Walking towards Link. It didn't move like a monkey. He had to squint as it strode into the backdrop of the sky. Bright gold did not stand out against blinding white, but fortunately, the dark wood of the bridge provided some outline. The outline of canine paws, and a lanceolate tail. Those of a wolf.
But why now? Link had not demonstrated a shred of heroism since that mysterious spirit told him off in Luce Prima. 'Yesterday's' performance was an utter shitshow for skill! But with the wolf drawing nearer, becoming clearer, there was no mistaking it for anyone other than the shade.
Oh gods. He was gonna get pounced again. Pounced while suspended above a literal void! He'd fall unconscious, he'd fall off the edge, and Midna, who needed to stick to his shadow in this harsh exposure of light, wouldn't be able to save him if his shadow vapourised into nothing.
He froze in place. The rope bit into his tight, bandaged fingertips. Should he greet the wolf? Stay put? Or run back to the village where he would have to face his third barrage of rotten fruit.
Midna hissed from his shadow. "What are you doing, Wolfie? Get to the shade already. I'm sizzling up!"
"It's gonna happen again," Link said.
"What is?"
The wolf crouched to pounce. Link did the first thing he thought of: flattening himself against the bridge. "Hey! What are you doing, you lazy…" Midna's voice melted into the white, along with the bridge and the forest and the stench of rotting fruit.
When Link opened his eyes, he huffed, sending a few nearby curls of mist into a tailspin. He dragged himself upright and glared at the one red eye blinking in the haze. "Can't have chosen a safer spot to knock me out?"
The hero's shade walked in from the haze. "With your two right feet, any terrain is unsafe for you."
Oh, what joy to have a grouchy old ghost witnessing Link's every misstep. "I don't need another lecture," Link grumbled. "Message received."
"I'm not here to lecture you," the shade said. "It's time to begin your training."
Link's jaw dropped like a pebble in the valley. "But… you said I'm not worthy, and I haven't proven I'm worthy. Just that I have…" he kicked the mists at his ankles, "two right feet."
"I told you to reflect," the shade said. "Now, what have you observed about yourself since out last talk?"
A whole lotta shortcomings. That's what. "Maybe I really do disgrace the tunic I wear." Link hung his head. "I almost stole from a stranger. Tried to save some Twili from these cruel monkeys, but they pelted me with rotten fruit because I was doing a rotten job. Thought I was an enemy." Link sighed. "Figures. They probably heard from their tyrant king that the Hyrulean Army is looking to march upon this place. Probably thought I was the first soldier of the invasion.
"A true hero would've turned that around by now, but not me. I don't have the skills or the talent. Just two right feet."
The shade hummed thoughtfully. "You still have a lot of thinking to do, but it's a start."
"Gee, thanks," Link droned.
"Heroes aren't born," the shade began, "they're self-made. No chosen one has ever begun their quest as the person capable of finishing it." But any good hero should at least be somewhat competent. More competent than Link. "You have a good baseline of skill that has gotten you this far. Now it's time to refine it." The shade drew his sword from his sheathe, mounted his shield on his arm, and waited for Link to do the same.
For one defiant (or hesitant) second, Link did not. He hept his arms firmly crossed. First this spirit called Link undeserving when he felt entitled, and now he called Link deserving when it was clear that he deserved little. This shade's logic was as clear as the mists surrounding them. Link wasn't the right hero for this quest, so why should this shade bother mentoring him?
But back in Ordon, Link wasn't the right person to be a ranch hand. Yes, he had his horse. Yes, he was good at it, but he wasn't right because that work ate away at him like mould. Yet still, he got up every morning and did it. Maybe Link wasn't right for this quest, but that didn't change the fact that it was his, and he would take one more blow, one more stinging lecture, and one more challenge just as he would force himself to herd one more goat or shovel one more dung pile back in Ordon.
It wasn't a pattern he could tolerate forever, but for now, it was tolerable, so he drew his sword and shield, and nodded at the shade.
The mentor grunted approvingly. "Enemies that are filled with energy will quickly recover and attack again even when stunned by a powerful strike. The ending blow is a secret technique you can use on stunned enemies to end their breath before they spring back into action. When an enemy lies collapsed on the ground, stunned, don't delay. Leap high into the air and deliver the final strike." The shade sprung from the mist and stabbed the ground as if it were straw. Seemed like a decent technique to use against those pesky monkeys, but how would that fare on twisting, tangling terrain?
"Now," the shade banged his shield, "try it on me."
Link sized up his adversary: a greater match than Ashei, and Link couldn't beat anyone better than Ashei, but as the shade said, this was Link's chance to become someone who could.
He ran in. Feigned right. Struck left. Met shield. The shade swung in. Link spun aside, and in that same motion, cut from shoulder to waist. The shade tumbled back, splayed in the mist. Heh. Not too shabby for a newbie. Link channelled the years of leaping past his ladder into his legs and sprung high. The shade rolled aside. The sword plunged into the mist. Stuck hard and fast. Link jimmied it like a key in a lock. Something slashed his side. He sprawled beside his sword, wheezing at the fading agony.
"What ails you?" the shade scolded. "I said not to delay."
Link dragged himself to his feet and gripped his hilt with both hands. "I wasn't," he heaved, "that slow," heaved again, "was I?" The blade came free.
"On the battlefield, you do not take half a second to marvel at your small victories. That is a window for your enemy to wriggle from the corner you've pinned them in." The shade banged his shield. "Again!"
Link bit back a groan and took his stance. If he could knock that geezer on his back, then shaving off half a second for the ending blow shouldn't be too hard.
Oh, but it was. It was as though the shade held back while standing, just so that Link could get to the 'ending blow' part, but as soon as spine met mist, suddenly this stalfos was as spry as a newborn foal. There had to be some trick, some technique, that Link was missing. Don't delay. As soon as that guy was on the ground, Link would spring. Leap high into the air. He was almost on par with a grasshopper, and yet that shade always rolled away as Link was in mid-arch.
And he always rolled to the left. Always.
The next time the shade fell, Link jumped, but a little to the left. When the shade rolled away again, steel bit into his neck. Pinning it.
A sigh escaped Link, half-relief and half-disbelief. He snapped to his feet, and with a single tug, freed the shade of his blade.
No more perturbed by the impalement than a nail through a horse's hoof, the shade clambered to his feet and nodded. "Hmm. That was a pinpoint strike. You did well to catch my little trick."
A boyish grin tugged at Link's cool smirk. "So I passed? We're done?"
"No." The mists flushed away, even those upon which mentor and mentee stood. In every direction, as far as the eye could see, branches twisted and tangled and clustered and spiralled. The shade set his shield on his back and held his sword in two hands. "We are far from done."
A/N: Who is excited for our first twilight realm "dungeon"? Do you think there will be a "dungeon item"? If so, any guesses as to what it might be?
