A/N: Let me know what you think of the story so far, enjoy!
~~The Wretched~~
"The most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has nothing left to lose."
- James A. Baldwin
xxx
Torchlight flickers off the faces of the villagers. Their eyes are earnest and excited, emotions that would have resonated with me earlier but now ring hollow. Hundreds of them surround me in a circle, eagerly looking on as I prepare for my ceremony. I lick my lips nervously.
Rusl dips his finger into a small pot nearby. He paints a red line on my forehead with the ochre. He dips his middle finger into another pot, and his ring finger into another. I close my eyes, relishing in the ancient traditions. A moment later a he paints a forest green line on my left cheek, and an ocean blue one on my right. His fingers are rough and calloused.
"Now you are adorned with the colors of the goddesses," he says, solemn. "Are you ready to become a man of Hyrule?"
"I am," I reply, trying to look determined and ready. Behind this mask I am both excited and nervous, ready to take my place as a fully grown Hylian but afraid I may let my village down. My hand shakes slightly, but I do my best to stifle this as well.
"Then, as your mentor, I claim my right to assign your task. Though you have proven your skill as a craftsman of the village, you have also grown to be an intrepid explorer of the forest, and an impressive swordsman. I therefore assign you a challenge of combat. Will you accept my challenge?"
There is a collective murmur of interest from the crowd. There hasn't been a trial by combat in several years; it is more of an ancient tradition.
"I will accept your challenge," I nod.
"Very well," Rusl replies. He turns away, and the crowd parts in front of him. "You will meet your challenge in the field of Nazgar."
Excited whispering breaks out among the crowd. Nazgar was an ancient Hylian warrior, one of the greatest who ever lived. After the twili receded, he turned his back on the courts of the old Hylian Empire. Instead of a sword in hand he took up the plough. He carved out a territory for his own, raising livestock and growing crops. He took a wife and welcomed more travelers into his fold, turning his land into a village. Years later, a town. And now, a city. Yet still Nazgar is remembered, the founder of our city, and a barren field is left untended in his honor. No one may ever build there, for it is the site of his original home.
Rusl leads the way. I follow him, wondering exactly what is in store. Past challenges by combat usually involved sparring, a duel to test the challenger. Most mentors have allowed their charges to beat them if you can last a certain amount of time, but if a duel is what Rusl intends, I know he will give no quarter. The crowd hurries all around us, pressing in on me like a crushing pressure. I feel slightly claustrophobic, smothered beneath the attention of so many from the city.
A few minutes of later we arrive at the field. Time has swallowed what remained of Nazgar's homestead, and the forest has reclaimed much of the field. Many things change over the centuries, and wild grasses and trees grow everywhere. Still, the field remains a tranquil place. I often come here and think, reveling in the solitude.
Something is different about the field on this night. In the darkness I can hear strange grunting, and suddenly there is a raucous clang, the sound my hammer makes when it strikes steel. A primal squeal rends the silence of the night. As we come closer, the torchlight reveals a chilling sight.
A cast iron cage dominates the center of the field. But what I see inside is something I've only heard tales of; a bulbo. Standing six feet tall, sinew and muscle bulging out. Bristling brown fur covers most of its body.
Rusl turns around, facing me. I read the seriousness in his eyes; this will be no easy task.
"This is no joke, Link. A task like this hasn't been set in over a century. You will not escape unscathed ... there is a risk you may even die. Completing it, however, could bring no higher honor."
I try to swallow but my mouth has turned to ashes. Nonetheless I feel excitement building in my stomach, the adrenaline already starting to flow.
"Do you accept? There would be no shame in requesting another challenge."
There would be though. I would feel ashamed of myself; Rusl thinks I'm ready for this. I trust him. I can do this.
I watch a large glob of saliva drip from the beast's jaws. In this moment I am acutely aware of just how large the serrated tusks are. Malevolent red eyes are locked onto mine. With difficulty I break the bulbo's gaze and turn to face Rusl.
"Yes." I nod reflexively, reassuring myself as much as Rusl. "Yes, I accept." Despite the danger, I am flattered Rusl has assigned me such a task. The greater your challenge, the more glory there is in completing it.
"Then, for this task, I would be honored if you use this." He unsheathes his own blade, presenting it to me. The craftsmanship is remarkable. I remember Rusl telling me that it was given to him by a Lord who's life he saved in the Argus war.
"And I would be honored to wield it," I reply, as graciously as I can. There is a slight tremor in my voice despite my best efforts to conceal it.
"Bulbo are powerful and deadly, but lack brains." Rusl tapped the side of his head. "Speed and wits will serve you better than any weapon here."
"I won't forget." The sword is heavier than I am used to, but longer and broader as well. I will need the reach to avoid those tusks.
"Then prepare yourself." Rusl placed his hand on my shoulder. "Hold fast. There is a thin line between fear and joy, and the man who has the courage to walk that line can do anything."
I don't really know what he means, but I nod anyways. Rusl holds my gaze a second longer, looking at me carefully. He nods a second later, apparently satisfied, and walks towards the cage.
"People of Ordon," Rusl yells from the center of the field. "We have gathered here tonight to witness the trial of a boy ready to take on his role as a man."
Members of the city guard spread out in a circle, ringing me into an arena. I recall that bulbo are afraid of flame. Gazing at the beautiful sword in my hand I find myself wishing it was one of the guards' torches instead. When I'm sparring with Rusl, my sword feels deadly. Part of the thrill comes from the knowledge you hold death in your hand. But looking at the bulbo, with razor tusks longer and thicker than my arm, I suddenly feel impotent.
Rusl is still speaking, but I no longer hear the words. I hear the steady beat of my heart in my chest, my deep breaths, the grunts of the bulbo.
"All of you know Link in one way or another." I tune back in to Rusl's words. "He has already proven himself to be a capable young man. Bear witness now as he takes his final steps to manhood."
Rusl opens the massive cage slowly, waving the torch in the bulbo's face. The bulbo backs up a little in the cage, squealing, but its burning red eyes never leave Rusl. He slowly backs up, waving the torch, until finally he is behind me.
The bulbo snorts and steps nervously out of the cage. The time spent inside the cage has only made the towering mass of muscle angry. Slowly the burning red eyes sweep its surroundings, finally settling on me. It paws the ground once, twice, saliva dripping from its mouth. My insides seemed to shrivel up and I fight the urge to flee.
My mind races - speed and wit Rusl said. I will need a strategy, a plan of attack. Before I can do anything, however, the bulbo starts to charge.
I stood there, frozen, watching the hulking boar bearing down on me. The very ground seemed to shake as it thundered across the field.
A moment before one of the tusks sliced me in to I regained control. Fight or flight took over and I dived to the side, landing on my stomach. The air was driven from my lungs.
Quickly I regain my feet. I can hear the cheers and gasps from the crowd, but they sound distant. The only things in the world right now are the bulbo and me.
The bulbo skids to a halt and turns around, infuriated. I gulp down a few breaths, and hold Rusl's sword in front of me.
The bulbo charges once more. This time I am more prepared, ready to leap aside when the moment is right.
I leap aside, thrusting the sword out as I do. I feel the blade bite into muscle and sinew; the bulbo is moving so fast the blade is nearly torn from my grip. It howls in pain and rage. For a second I am proud of my daring maneuver.
Once again it turns, eyes burning. One of its massive hooves paws the ground. I realize I have barely wounded the beast, only inflamed its rage. The bulbo is not very smart, but it is too fast for me to dodge forever. If I want to kill it I'm going to have to cripple its mobility, keep it at bay.
The bulbo charges again.
Time slows down as it races towards me, faster and full of bloodlust. I wait for my opportunity, my eyes locked with the bulbo's.
I leap to the left, but the bulbo has learned. I sweeps its head to the side as it thunders by, the side of its tusk sending me flying. Rusl's sword goes spinning from my hand.
I hid the ground, hard. Spots dance before my eyes and the corners of the world start to fade, but I fight the blackness. My body does not want to respond, and pain lances through my chest. It hurts to breathe. Dragging myself to my knees, I spot the sword a good fifteen yards away.
The bulbo has already come around, but something is different. It knows I'm disarmed, that I'm injured. It starts to come towards me, slowly. I try to drag myself towards the sword, but the pain blossoms and I collapse.
People say your life flashes before your eyes in the moments before you die. Nothing flashed before my eyes except black spots, unconsciousness still beckoning. I see flashes of light coming from the sides of the field, people running. It doesn't seem like any of them are running towards me though.
The bulbo looms over me. Saliva drips from its mouth onto the ground by my feet, and rows of razor sharp teeth leer at me. I am numb with fear. Vaguely I can hear shouts and screams but no one has come to my aid.
The bulbo opens its jaws wide, preparing to tear me to pieces. The stink of the boar's hot breath envelopes me. Of all ways I can imagine dying, being eaten alive seems like one of the worst. I clench my eyes shut.
A massive wave of heat washes over me and I hear the bulbo squeal - but it is cut off almost immediately. Something wet sprays across my body. I hear a high pitched cackle. More screams.
I open my eyes. I am soaked red in blood; half the bulbo has disappeared in a spray of gore. Fire is everywhere. What remains of the bulbo topples over, landing on my chest. I scream in pain but no sounds escapes my throat, all the air driven from my lungs by the weight.
I cannot stay awake. I see more flashes of light and a tree erupt in flame. People are running everywhere.
Just before I pass out I see a tall figure, fire blazing in his palms. He's laughing as panicked citizens flee in all directions.
I can no longer stay awake, and succumb to the darkness.
One last thought flashes through my mind. Who else could be so cruel as the wretched bogeymen of our world?
Twili.