Chapter 28

He held the black sword in his left hand as he mounted the stairs two at a time. The blade felt cold and reassuring in his grip, as if all his worries were melting into the weight of the thing, flowing out of his arm and into the wicked edge of the razor sword. He had felt compelled to bring it with him. Though he did not wish to look at the weapon- it made him terribly uncomfortable to think about the dead eye on the pommel –he felt as though it needed to go with him, that he would be even less safe without it.

Round and around the spiral stairs, Link ascended to the shadowy ceiling, hardly noticing as the glowing blue lights and stony arches of the tower faded around him. He was done trying to keep track of how high he had gone, or what the dimensions of the rooms were. This black and terrible place didn't follow the same rules as the rest of reality. He had passed the limits of normal physics, broken the barriers of the Dreamworld itself, and now he walked through a shifting and shadowy world of nightmares. Link felt as though it had been weeks since he had seen the sun. Kadath and its gloomy streets were a distant memory. There was only him, his darkness, and the vile raven blade which he clutched in his fist like a vice.

At the top of the stairs, the world was void and without definition. Ghostly shapes churned in the darkness, maddening eyes twinkled at him from the endless gulfs of space. There, in the black expanses of emptiness which swirled around him, stood the raven-thing, menacing and tall.

It glared at him with murder in its eyes.

"The final riddle, Courage of Men," said the thing. Link did not respond. His face was a stony mask, his eyes hiding fire deep below their icy blue.

Line by line, the chirping voices of the ravens spoke:

"Meets the mountain,"

"Meets the sky,"

"Meets the moon with steely eye."

"Feeds the heart,"

"Betrays the brain,"

"Fights the fear, ignores the pain."

The sparkling black eyes watched him expectantly. They had both known he knew the answer before any words had been said. Some part of the boy's mind was screaming at him, but the voice seemed muffled and distant, hidden somewhere in his damaged psyche. Who had he been when he entered the horrifying temple? Less of that person seemed to be there now. Deep inside himself, he knew that Zelda was still out there, still in that little prison, still in peril… He had nearly forgotten, so cloudy was his mind. Yet the raven-thing's riddle had brought him back. "Fights the fear, ignores the pain." It could only be one thing, and it was the only thing he had anymore to remind him who he was:

"Courage," said Link.

"Lion and lamb, calf and boar, goat and buzzard," squawked the raven-thing, "Woe unto you, Courage of Men! Your power does not belong to you, your wisdom is borrowed without credit due, and your courage is false and empty. You may wield power and wisdom in your hands as you wield a blade, but courage you must become."

"Kill him!"

"Eat him!"

"His eyes!"

"Now, face the final test set before you," said the foul thing, "Become courage, and face your own demons. Conquer your own darkness, and become the Courage of Men!"

The raven thing split apart into its component creatures, and with them a dazzling light invaded the void. Murky black became stark white, and the floor became a glossy mirror of shallow water, its pristine surface showing Link his perfect reflection. He saw himself, standing in tattered clothes, caked with blood and dirt, the black sword clutched in his left hand. His eyebrows were pointed down in seething anger, and his blue orbs smoldered with hidden fire. He saw his own reflection and did not recognize the person looking back at him.

Then the stranger, the one who was him but was not him, broke through the surface of the shimmering water. As it lifted itself up from the pool the liquid came sliding off of it, bringing all the color along. Forest green tunic and peachy flesh became midnight and ghostly gray. The only thing which did not change was the black sword, which remained pristine in its evil form. Soon Link stood facing his own shadow, gazing into a dark mirror of himself. The dark him returned his gaze with hatred in its deep, black eyes.

He raised his sword, and his shadow did the same. He took a step to his right, and the shadow mimicked. They waved their blades at each other in perfect synchronicity. Link watched the thing, the shadow of himself, and found that he hated it more than he had ever hated anything. Malice was in his heart, like a black spot of cancer, twisting his youthful soul to demonic anger. He swung the sword as hard as he could, and the shadow did the same. The swords flashed and connected with a ringing clamor, and two identical battle cries rang to the featureless void,

"Hyaaaa!"

Zelda was beginning to lose any feeling of desperation or hopelessness, and she was trading those feelings for anger. Zig had resumed his calm meditation, though Zelda could not fathom how. Gwen had turned her back on them, silently staring at the corner wall. The pirate's apathy disgusted Zelda the most. She found herself thinking, much to her chagrin, 'What would Scarlett do?'

Not just sit and wait, that much she was sure of.

"I have had enough of this!" cried Zelda, going to the door of her cell and pulling at the bars, "We cannot wait here for something to happen. It is time for action! We must find a way out of this prison!"

"Zelda, you should save your strength," said Zig, without opening his eyes, "It is useless to pry at these bars, they are stronger than steel. I understand your frustration, but we must wait for help."

"Pardon me, Ziggardun, you have been more pleasant to me than most of your kin, and for that I am thankful," began the princess, in a tone that did not sound very thankful at all, "But I am not convinced that you understand my frustration at all. What if help does not come? I will not live the rest of my life, however short, like this! I trust Link, and I depend on him- we all do! But no longer will I be a helpless princess locked away in a dungeon awaiting rescue. I have had it with this role. I am doing something that I should have done a long time ago: I am taking charge of this situation!"

"A lot of big talk, princess," said Gwen, finally turning to face her companions, "Haven't you learned anything? We can be determined and headstrong all we want, but it doesn't change anything! You think Scarlett wasn't just as determined? You think she wouldn't have said the same thing? You just need to learn to accept it; sometimes there isn't anything you can do."

"I will not accept that!" shouted Zelda, "Maybe you have given up. Maybe you are willing to just wait to be rescued or to die, but not I. Not Zelda Nohansen Hyrule! I will leave this prison behind me, and Goddess as my witness, I will sit on the throne of Hyrule again."

"Stupid child!" screamed Gwen, "We never should have taken you. Do not get me wrong, Zelda, I know that without you Zig would be dead, and make no mistake, I have come to think of you as a younger sister- which is why I regret all of this! You never belonged here. You are not cut out for this sort of thing. I doubt whether or not any of us were, now that I look back on all that has befallen. This is the real world, this is how it works. There are no happy endings."

Zelda screamed, turned away from Gwen, went to the wall of her cell and punched the stones with a closed fist. Her hand throbbed in a way it never had before, the pain radiating all the way to her elbow, but she did not let it bend her. The throb was welcome, it was something to feel, and it reminded her that death was not upon her yet. She couldn't allow Gwen's words to be true. No, she needed them not to be.

She looked up to the ceiling, lifting her eyes to try and keep the tears inside. She was so sick of being weak! She had to find strength, the strength she knew was in her and every member of the royal family. She was a Hyrulean Princess! There was more fight in her than she had been allowing herself to realize.

As Zelda watched the ceiling, her mind racing with desperate need for a way out, she saw the first frail rays of the sun shining on her cell from the window near the top of the wall. The light looked pure, clean, and warm. It filled her with hope. Suddenly, the princess had an idea.

"No, Gwen," said Zelda, "You are wrong. We will make our own endings."

Zelda reached up, touching the shaft of sunlight with her fingertips. She felt the warm light brushing her fingers, felt its life-giving heat. Her eyes slid shut, and her lips parted in quiet prayer. The words were barely a whisper; they weren't for mortal ears…

"Mother Hylia, first of the line of Royal Hyrule, and keeper of the Golden Light of the Sun," whispered Zelda, "Gift me with your might, that I may be a beacon of light for all of Hyrule to rally to. So it be!"

The shaft of light grew in its shining intensity. Zelda felt the smooth surface of a cylindrical object materializing in her hand, as though the light itself were hardening and taking shape for her. She gripped the new object, and felt the soothing warmth of its light flowing into her. She opened her eyes, and saw the golden bow and quiver of golden-feathered arrows which she was holding over her head.

"What is that?" said Gwen, awestruck.

"Can it possibly be… ?" gasped Zig, his eyes now open wide.

Zelda took the quiver and slung it over her shoulder, and then she hefted the bow and notched an arrow expertly on its silvery string. It had been several months since she'd been able to practice her archery, but the weapon still felt natural to her. She drew the arrow back until the bow was taught as it could be, and she pointed the weapon at the lock on her cell door. The tip of the arrow seemed to glow as bright as a burning star. The princess let the bowstring slip from her fingers, satisfied that she had lined up the shot. Twang! BOOM!

The force of the blast threw the cell door open, causing it to crash against the bars with a clang. The princess said nothing. She took two striding steps out of the cell, notched another arrow, and blasted Gwen's door open as well. Then, she turned and did the same to Zig's. The pirates watched her with stunned expressions.

The princess' blue eyes met Gwen's sparkling brown, and, for the first time Gwen could remember, Zelda looked like royalty.

"Come on," said the princess, "Let's go."

Link and his shadow were circling each other, strafing so symmetrically that they seemed to be dancing. Every so often the boy would throw himself forward to strike at the thing, but each time the Shadow would perfectly repel his assault. It seemed to know exactly what he would do and when he would do it.

He would strike horizontal and the shadow would match him, knocking his blade away. He would slash vertical and the shadow would meet him with steel. He would leap and strike with fury, and the swords would ring, echoless, to the absolute void around them. It was no use. With every strike he was tiring. The shadow moved exactly the same as him, and met each of his assaults with matched precision. There would be no way to hurt the thing, unless…

It was a long shot, and dangerous, but Link was grimly aware that it was the only plan which would allow him to strike the creature: he would have to leave himself open to attack. Thus far, the shadow had matched his movements precisely. If he were to strike in such a way that his own guard was compromised, then perhaps the shadow would do the same. Then he would have just a moment to deliver a blow to the thing, although it seemed nearly certain that he would be struck as well.

He backpedaled, watching carefully the tip of his shadow's razor sword. It was a sharp, daemonic stinger, and he knew by the sharpness of his own blade that it could easily rend his arm from his body. He would have to choose his point of attack very precisely. It was going to hurt.

Link gritted his teeth. It was now or never. He took two steps forward and swung the sword wildly.

The blades touched. Sparks flew.

He dropped his guard on his right hand side, thrusting the blade with his left as far as he could.

The weapon sunk into his shoulder. He and the shadow stood, face to face, their blades skewered cleanly through one another. The wound burned! Link could feel the hot blood, flowing down his side. The adrenaline was so maddening, so white-hot, he felt nothing else. Across from him, the shadow's face was an expressionless mask of his own, its dark and featureless eyes like voids of mocking emptiness.

No blood came from the shadow's wound.

Link jerked his sword away. It slid cleanly from the shoulder of the shadow, leaving no mark. The creature's blade tore through his own shoulder, the resulting wound pouring gore down to the shimmering waters, where it dissipated to nothing as if his blood had no substance at all.

The shadow stood tall. Link faced his foe, trying to lift his blade, but he felt so tired. The weapon was growing too heavy for him. He felt his arm go limp, and watched as the tip of his blade splashed uselessly in the crystal pool.

He watched the doppelganger, its hollow eyes observing him with the passive, uninterested judgment of an alien god. It was mocking him, slandering him for his weakness and his shortcoming. It needed not say a word. The horrible, emotionless mask of his own face spoke volumes. He was not good enough, was not old enough, was not strong enough… there had never been a hero in him. He was nothing without the Sleepstone, without the dragon, without the wicked black sword.

The shadow was bearing down on him. It was exactly his size, exactly his replica, but it seemed to loom over him like the timeless shadow of some megalithic ruin. It was a living, moving temple to his own inner darkness, like an expression of the innermost failings of his very soul. All at once, the weight of a thousand lifetimes worth of mistakes came crashing onto his shoulders, and memories swam through his head that were not his own.

The shadow was so close, he could touch it.

Link lashed out with his sword, flopping about like a flounder in the shallow water.

The shadow knocked his blade aside effortlessly. He stumbled, falling on his backside in the pool. The water was warm and clean, and invaded his wounds with soothing heat. His consciousness wavered, black spots of nothingness clouding his vision. He pushed himself up on his elbows, trying to find the strength to stand. It was impossible.

His shadow was standing over him. He let out a hoarse, pitiful cry, lifting the black sword as high as he could. Somehow, his fingers refused to let go of the thing. He pointed it up, trying with all of his might to defend himself. It trembled in his grip, his arm barely able to raise the weapon at all. He watched the shadow staring down at him, wordless, unthreatened. Between them, the raven's eye on the bottom of the sword swiveled about madly until its hideous gaze landed on Link. The boy and sword made eye contact.

It was over. He knew it. He should just give up…

Everything was empty darkness.

'Not yet, boy…'

"Impa, where am I?"

'You're determined to make this difficult, aren't you, kid?'

"Impa, I'm dying…"

'Quit it with that! Only a fool dies with unfinished business.'

"I've failed, Impa! I've failed you and Zelda and everyone. I've lost the Sleepstone and the Dragon and everything. I'm sorry. I wasn't strong enough."

'Have you learned nothing in all this time, kid? It isn't your body that gives you strength in this world. It's your mind… your heart… your soul. You can't be separated from those things. They are you. In the Dreamworld, they will never leave you. You just have to remember where they are. Find those things, and they will be with you always, in this world and any other…"

"My… soul… !"

The world returned to him!

Light came swirling up from the water. The infinite void of white around them began to fracture and change, the whole world shifting like a nauseous kaleidoscope. He felt himself rising from the water as though being lifted by a cloud. His eyes were open, half-lidded, but through the haze of blood loss he saw the world clearly for the first time since he had entered the evil dungeon.

With his left hand, he cast out the black sword, throwing it down to the water.

All around him, a white mist was swirling, like aserpent wrapping about him. It did not seek to smother or consume, however. It coddled him, caressed him, and swaddled him gently in its embrace. He felt himself being propped up on his feet. Through the swirling spirit mist, he could see the shape of a dragon's head, with curled horns and serpent tongue, shielding him like a shining, spectral guardian.

The shadow was stunned. It shrank away from the sacred, unblemished light, its dead eyes reflecting the first emotion Link had seen within them: fear. Its features began to distort, and its shadowy visage began to crumble. Suddenly, and with a terrible squawk, a raven came careening from the center of the shrinking shadow, flying a few feet away before suddenly combusting into a plume of golden fire.

Then they all burst forth, one after another! The fluttering, tittering, evil legion of raven's exploded from the center of the shadow, each of their blasphemous forms darting away and smoldering to scattered ashes in the searing holy light. The dragon had become something new, something incorporeal and unaffected by the darkness of the temple. Even as its light invaded and destroyed the last squawking remnants of the raven-thing, the white void of the room began to fall away.

Indeed, it had become something worth calling a room again. Cold stone and glowing blue light returned to dull normality, and the strange waters of the shallow pool receded to a bone-dry contrast.

The spirit dragon held him to keep him from staggering; the ghostly image of its face inspecting him the way a faithful hound might show concern for its wounded master. Link smiled weakly at the creature. "Don't worry," he said, "Just take me to the top of the tower. We have to get the treasure so we can get out of here."

The dragon wasted no time. It lifted him from the cool stone, and up they went, towards the ceiling where the spiral stair was already descending. As they went, a terrible tremor racked the tower, shaking loose dust and rubble from the ancient ceiling. Link could not imagine what could be more horrible than the things he had already faced within the Temple of the Soul, but the sudden rumble made him suspect that it wasn't over yet.

Still, with the dragon at his side once more, he didn't feel afraid. Link could not grip the ghostly dragon to convey his urgency, but he knew it would feel it anyway. He didn't even need words. They were connected.

Hurry, boy…

Scarlett clung to the top of the tower, still peering down the narrow tube which emitted the strange beam of eldritch emerald light. The light made it impossible to gauge the distance to the bottom, but Scarlett knew she was without option. The fluttering moth would be no help, and anyway the first peeking rays of the sun were cresting the Eastern horizon. Soon it would be daylight, and she would need to find a way down from the black tower before then.

Suddenly, something black came swooping down and nearly collided with her head. She turned around, tracking the thing, which had impacted heavily on the tower top. The broken, crumpled body of a dead raven lay sprawled on the smooth stone.

"What the hell?"

There was little time to think. Suddenly, the air was a torrent of falling black shapes. Scarlett huddled down, bracing herself against the rain of tiny feathered bodies. A thousand thousand ravens were falling from the sky, as if their hearts had just stopped all at once.

Then, a tremor shook the tower once again, and Scarlett was so caught off guard that she lost her footing on the smooth stone. Her fingers were barely able to grasp the ledge, and she found herself dangling perilously over the hollow tube atop the tower, the shaft of glowing green light seething behind her.

"No!" cried Scarlett, scrambling for footing, but it was no use. The stones were too polished, and too slippery. One by one her fingers lost their hold. "No!"

And Scarlett disappeared down the tube, screaming all the way.

They had set out from the guard house in a frenzy, rounding every corner with the silent expectation of running into their tiny mechanical captors once again. They found the halls and streets outside devoid of the little robots, the only occupants being the shambling redead which crowded the streets. They had found their personal effects unceremoniously discarded in a room which bore an etching over the door which Zelda said translated roughly to 'storage'.

They had reclaimed what meager supplies they had, stopping for only a second to devour some of the meager rations from Scarlett's belt pouch. They had divided Link's possessions among themselves to lighten the load, but when it came to Scarlett's sword and belt Zelda had paused with the things in her hands.

"Gwen," said the princess, turning to the pirate. She lifted the sword and belt in an offering fashion, but the pirate shook her head solemnly.

"They should be yours," said Gwen, "Those things are for a leader to carry. I'm not cut out for them."

Zelda touched the hilt of the sword absently as they strode along, feeling the heavy, sculpted pommel of gold and gems dangling at her side. She didn't know how to wield the weapon, at least not in a way that would prove useful in any kind of real fight, yet something about having it at her side made her feel safer. As if Scarlett had never left them.

Suddenly, the cry of birds in distress split the open air. Zelda, Gwen and Zig turned their eyes up to the shining tower, its black shape casting a mile-long shadow over the old, dead city in the first gleaming rays of sunlight. Morning was breaking over the Eastern horizon, but there was no chance to marvel at the glory of a new day. They were too shocked by what they saw. From the sky, the clouds of lofty ravens were plummeting like a gruesome rain, dropping from mid-flight like creatures turned to stone.

The group of them ran for shelter as a flock overhead began to plummet to the ground around them, the birds breaking and bursting from the intense force of the drop and the impact. The redead seemed unaffected by this, continuing in their shuffling monotony as though nothing was amiss whatsoever. Zelda saw one of the birds land on one, knocking the zombie to the floor. The other zombies did not seem to care.

Then, there was a burst of intensified light from the crown of the tower, like a sudden corona of green washing over them. With the pulse, the city trembled tremendously, the ground and the structures around them shifting and shaking.

"What was that?" said Gwen.

"Nothing good," replied Zelda. She drew an arrow from her quiver and notched it, "Come on, we need to get to that tower. Link needs us."

Onward toward the tower they went, Zelda in the lead. It amazed her, the way the pirates followed her commands. Her voice even sounded different, she mused. More like her father. She held her head high, the green light of the tower glinting in her bright eyes.

If it was her destiny to be a queen, then it was high time she started acting like one.

Now, to save her king…