Alrighty then! (if you get that reference I'll give you ten interwebz). Well, 31 whole chapters done and I'm nowhere near done D: Here's to hoping both old and new readers give a very extensive story a chance! Enjoy!
-Jack Knights
"Well then, I guess that's it," Sheik said, rubbing his head. "Dormu's a tough customer; he hand picks most of the people that join the Resistance and if he says no dice, he means it."
I have to find a way to convince this guy to let me join the Resistance! Felicia thought. But how? The only skills she had at her disposal were the same as any other woman; she cooked, cleaned and could sew very well. But none of these qualities could really benefit an army. She knew very little about self-defense and the only weapon she knew how to handle was a knife. And even then, she still managed to cut herself on the blade.
The blade? she mused, growing pensive.
"We gonna leave or what?" Sheik asked impatiently.
"You go on ahead, I'll meet at the square in an hour. I'm gonna try and convince this guy to let me join.," she glared angrily at Dormu who only shrugged at her.
"Fine, I'll be done at the beach if you need me," he said, walking out the door.
"Something seems to have occurred to you," Dormu observed once Sheik was gone. "Why'd you hesitate? Is there something Sheik should not see?"
"I'm not sure anyone should see it," she said mysteriously, looking down at her hands. "I have a package that the Resistance desperately needs. We couldn't risk sending a notice ahead of us, thought," she explained reaching behind her to unfasten the cloth-wrapped bundle she had tied to her back. She laid it on the floor in front of her, but didn't unwrap it.
"What is it?" Dormu asked when she stared at the windows in distaste.
"Could you close those, please? I don't want anyone other than whoever's absolutely necessary finding out about it," Felicia asked. Dormu nodded and proceeded to close the windows and draw the curtains closed. Soon, the house was stuffy and the light inside was dim. It took her several minuted for her eyes to adjust before she noticed that the Zora was sitting across from her, cross-legged with his hands on his knees. Felicia nodded at him and begun unraveling her precious cargo.
"What is it you want of me?" Dagg asked as he and Ganondorf walked swiftly up several flights of stairs, eventually coming to the top-most floor of the Citadel. They paused before a locked door, guarded by Ganondorf's servant, the person of indistinguishable gender and age. The King turned to him, his eyes alight with wickedness.
"You shall see soon enough," he smirked, indicating to the person to open the door. They did as he said without hesitation,bowing slightly as they entered. Dagg saw the door close behind him, then lock. Whatever he wants of me, I'm trapped now. They were in a small hallway, somewhere in the attics. Dagg barely had enough room to stand and between himself and Ganondorf, there wasn't enough room to stand side by side.
At the end of the hallway was a door, much smaller than the one they'd previously entered. Ganondorf opened the door himself, which struck Dagg as odd, and ushered the man inside. When the door was closed, they were thrown into complete darkness. Dagg felt Ganondorf squeeze past him and he nearly jumped aside, hating the feel of the man's skin against his hand. The room they were in was suddenly thrown into light as Ganondorf turned on a lamp.
The room was surprisingly large, much bigger than what it seemed on the outside. In fact, Dagg was sure it had been altered magically, fitting a large study inside the equivalent space of a broom closet. The walls were lined with dusty shelves, which contained not only books, but a myriad of ornaments as well. Dagg noticed an aging map hung from the wall directly in front of him, framed by two long, narrow windows. As he took this all in, Ganondorf went over to the large desk in the center of the room and sat down in one of the dusty chairs.
"What is this place?" he asked, a little awe seeping into his voice despite himself.
"This is my private library," he said. "The last sixty to eighty years of time exist only on these shelves."
"Impossible," Dagg murmured, reading the spine of a book. It read Hylian Mythology & Legends Of Old. The one next to it was Hyrulean Bestiary – A Revised Encyclopedia on Monsters. These were books Dagg knew for a fact didn't exist anywhere in the world; he'd spent years searching for them.
"Oh no, it's high improbable," Ganondorf said as he raised his eyebrows. "You see, when I ordered all books on history and Hylian legends and such, I retained one of every book, storing them here."
"Why would you? It makes no sense," Dagg observed, his wariness returning. "These are the books that paint you, the Gerudo and those monsters in your personal army in the light of truth."
"True, but then," the King muttered as he stood again, "how would I rewrite every piece of history in existence to say otherwise? Even I need references, boy."
He walked back to the door as Dagg looked over the books on the shelves, pausing to look back "It's yours," he said as he opened the door, not bothering to turn around. Dagg stared at his back, open-mouthed, struck stupid with awe. Mine? No way...
"Wait, why me?" he asked, suspicious once he regained his senses. "Why would you, a cold-hearted tyrant give his personal assets to a nobody like me?"
"You are more important than you know," Ganondorf murmured as he closed the door behind him. His genderless minion suddenly appeared next to him, await his master's orders. "Inform me the minute he leaves. Watch him closely, understood?" They nodded and the King was off, disappearing into the shadows.
Her eyes snapped open, instantly awake. Jaz got to her feet, all pain in her body gone. She felt invigorated, rejuvenated. She looked at the gate, surprised to find that not a second had passed since she fell to the ground, unconscious. The Bulbins had been screaming for bloodshed and when they saw her rise, their shouts had faltered, then gained in volume, swelling like a living entity. She rolled her eyes at them, turning to face Link.
The Hylian was slumped against the tree, his face bruised on one side. No doubt the same discolouration continued down the same side of his body, maybe even belying sprained muscles or broken bones. Unable to process those possibilities, Jaz pushed the thoughts from her mind, drawing the sectioned staff from her bag. The Bulbins roared to be let loose, relishing the confrontation with a lone, foolish warrior.
They are the fools, said the voice in her head, and Jaz couldn't help but agree, grinning madly as she walked towards the gate, which rose at a painstaking pace. They scream for blood. What shall you do?
"Let their idiocy be their downfall," she muttered to herself, bringing the collapsed staff to her chest. "Let their own blood quench their thirst for death! Revel, monsters, in your destruction!"
She swung the staff downwards, the weapon sliding out to it's full length. Jaz could hear nothing save the pounding of blood in her ears. When the last deadbolt locked into place, the gate having risen as far as it could, the clang rung through the lands and the monster dashed forward, clubs raised. Jaz laughed madly as she dashed after them, jumping into the thickest part of their ranks.
She instantly struck one monster on the head, turned halfway and swung out widely, taking down three others, sending them crashing into their companions. She pounded the staff into the gut of another, lifting it as she did, sending it flying as far as she could. Jaz batted the monsters down quickly and all she struck did not rise again. A flaring pain registered in her shoulder and she hissed when she saw the arrow lodged in her flesh. Despite the pain, she ripped the arrow out and stabbed a Bulbin in the neck with it.
The twang of bowstrings letting loose caught her attention and she turned in the direction of the noise, already deflecting the projectiles. Jaz spied several archer monsters standing on the rides around the gates and she narrowed her eyes at them. Allow me to take care of those buffoons, came the voice. Jaz felt a surge of energy—magic unlike anything she'd ever thought she could wield—rippled through the crowd. As it sailed to their targets, several of the monster crumpled to the ground, dead. The force of the spell struck the mountainside, obliterating the ridges completely. All around her the monsters battle cries turned to screams of agony and pain.
All around her Bulbins fled for the lives. The lucky ones were struck down by her spells; those less fortunate would suffer at her hands. In another time, Jaz would have cringed at their cries and fainted at the sight of their blood. But now none of that mattered. She bathed in their blood, enjoying their screams, gorging herself on the fact that it was because of her that they suffered. Jaz found herself laughing maniacally as the voice joined her in chorus.
As she casually drove her staff through the chest of a fleeing monster, Jaz heard the monster pushing her forward, raging in her ears. Yes! YES! This is what you live for, girl! The stench of battle, the taste of blood on your tongue and the sounds of their demise on the wind... these are what truly fuel you, drive you forward! You feed off of their tragedy and drink of their souls!
Something snapped in her then. Her blood-lust faded away and her evil laughter died in her throat. The chanting of the voice grew distant, its thumping murmur dying away to a throb in the back of her mind. She heard it scream, curse and threaten, but it faded away to nothingness in a matter of seconds. Finally, Jaz was herself again, finally seeing what it was she had wrought in her madness. She gagged, nearly losing her stomach at the sight that fouled her eyes.
The field around her was littered with bodies, some still twitching as the life flew out of their earthy shells. Some were crumpled, others scorched, but few weren't maimed in some manner or other. Most were contorted horribly, all were covered in red, stinking blood. And when Jaz looked down at her hands, she saw that she too was as they. Jaz threw down her staff in disgust, its once gleaming metal stained copper and littered with bits of flesh. She fell to her knees, her breathing rapid, her heartbeat uncontrollable.
I did this? This is not what I wanted! she thought through the haze that still clouded her mind. I only wanted to save myself and Link...!
Her thoughts turned to the Hylian then, and she whirled about, trying to find his form amongst the carnage. Remembering the tree, Jaz dashed towards it, praying, hoping that despite all reason he was unharmed. When she came round the tree, she saw their packs, both untouched by the gore of the battle, but no Link. Jaz felt the tears well up in her eyes as she searched the slaughter for him. She couldn't tell if hours or mere minutes had passed, if the latter, then time was indeed cruel, but eventually she fell to the blood-soaked ground in a heap, unable to continue.
"You lied to me!" she shouted at the voice that had permeated her thoughts as of late. "You promised he and I would live!"
No, I only promise you power with which, if wielded properly, brought the world to it's knees, came the faint snide of the voice in her head.
"Give him back!" Jaz shouted, the tears finally falling free. "Give him back! Give him back!" she shouted repeatedly, but voice did not respond. It's presence was gone, she no longer felt it touching her mind. With a wordless scream of anguish, she pounded the ground, finally utterly alone.
The sea was an unsettling blue, deep and refreshing. The sky mimicked it's coolness, with only a smattering of pure white, puffy clouds here and there to break up the blue. And in the far off distance, settling against the horizon, was the only other bright pulse of colour. The brilliance of the setting sun drenched the horizon in its orange glow, fanning out into yellow and even dissipating back into blue. The scene was idyllic, perfect in its purity and simplicity. It should have calmed even the most weary, frightened soul, but Sheik found no comfort in it's beauty. The darkening sky and setting sun only added to his anxiety, for he realized just how much of the day had been eaten away, and yet he had heard nothing of Felicia.
I wonder if she managed to convince him, he mused as he studied the oval shaped rock in his palm. It was perfectly smooth and the edges were soft, rounded off in the way only years in the ocean could make it. Should he have wished to, Sheik could have made the stone skip far across the water, but no such desire captivated him. He only stared into the gray of its surface, boring his gaze into it's hard exterior. Would she have left without me if she did? he wondered, turning the rock over in his hand. She was so eager to join their ranks, surely she wouldn't have waited. He frowned at the rock as if it displeased him. Whatever, he thought bitterly, tossing the stone from one hand to the other.
"If she's gone, fine with me," he muttered acidly, heaving the stone across the water. He watched it skip twice, four, seven times before finally sinking into the dark depths of the ocean. Sheik scowled, realizing that now without the stone to ponder over, his thoughts would inevitably turn back to Felicia. He cursed himself, trudging through the sand, hands thrust deeply into his pockets as he stalked off.
As he entered the square, someone called his name, but Sheik paid them no heed, continuing to push his way past the patrons that milled about in the stores and browsed through the stalls, forever searching for a better product, a cheaper bargain. What do I do now? I left Oocconia for Saria, but now that I'm here I find nothing for me. He looked to the first of the stars glittering in the sky. Father, what should I do? What would you have me do?
He sat down on a bench, stretching his arm out across the backing and leaning his head back. He closed his eyes, unable to think straight. Just as he managed to shut out all noise and meditate, someone sat down next to him. Angered by the fool that didn't realize that the seat was taken, Sheik lifted his head, his mouth opening to tell the person off.
"Hello, Sheik," came a deep, familiar voice. His eyes snapped open and he straightened instantly. The raven-haired man sitting next to him, his dark, skin tight clothes sticking out oddly in the seaside town of bright and cheerful colours, smiled at him. To any other passerby, it would seem two old friends seeing each other for the first time in years. But Sheik knew better when it concerned Carlisle.
"How..." he managed to say despite being so utterly taken aback he could do little else.
"Oh, do you mean, how did I find you? Or perhaps, how is it I am alive after you killed me for, what is it now, the sixth, seventh time?"
Sheik could only stutter unintelligently. Carlisle eyed him curiously, his look neither full of hatred nor completely benign. Carlisle grinned widely at him again and Sheik felt his spine shudder, a cold sweat breaking out in his hairline.
"Let's discuss things over a bottle of ale, for old times sake, shall we?" the black-tressed man said congenially. Sheik was about to tell him where he could shove his bottle of wine when he felt a dagger press into his side. Carlisle's casual grin turned deadly as his eyes narrowed. "No? Oh that's right, you're underage. Well then, how about we go for a quick walk?"
Sheik rose as Carlisle did, his movements slow and deliberate, not chancing to give the other man a reason to use his knife against his skin. Carlisle kept up his facade, acting concerned as he led his suddenly sick friend away. As they walked, neither noticed the third shadow that followed their every move.