Chapter 10
A Demon's Introspection
This crucial moment—this pivotal point in time would prove to be one of history's greatest watersheds for the demon realm. The sky and surface realms as well. Everything hung on the hero's decision.
Ghirahim lowered his eyes to Link, considering the fine line he'd walked with him. It was a turbulent yet striated plane with a designated safe zone. He could only hope that he'd kept the human within that narrow strait. Only time would tell.
How can I trust you? How can you prove that your words are true? How can you guarantee that a multitude of lives will be spared? How do I know you won't kill me once I do what you want? If what you say about Midna is true, then I want to see her. You've antagonized me for hours, you're not my companion, nor will you ever be. How could I join with someone so evil? What will happen to Skyloft once I yield?—
All questions the demon knew Link was considering. Luckily, he was prepared with a skillful contrivance of suitable answers for each and every one.
He paused, taking advantage of this rare opportunity. The entire evening had been full of restrictions and limitations. Everything had to be handled just so. To yaw from the intended course would have meant immediate failure. Now, he rested his hands on the human and just felt him.
Every word spoken, every word withheld. Every touch given, every touch held back. It was all highly critical. Together, every decision would determine the outcome. From the way that the bound human had awoken to his two escape attempts; from his humbling experiences to his edification in the woods; his exposure to different sights, people, environments and stimulants—it had all been meticulously planned and carried out. Each task making up the schematic that the demon had been given was masterfully carried out.
Of course, the ingenious plan had been put into place many days before the spirit maiden was plucked from the sky. Visions had been sent to this hero in green more than once. The foreboding dream in the Faron Woods had also been part of this arrangement. Fortunately, it appeared to have served its purpose.
Had his words been too harsh or not harsh enough? Had he broken this human down enough yet left him fully intact? Had he avoided raising his suspicions, either miscreated or legitimate? Had this human been convinced, yet left curious? Was he hungry for more? More of what he'd felt in the woods, and more of what the demon's tantalizing words had touched upon? Had the human been sufficiently frightened? Made wary to the point of developing a healthy fear, yet not so frightened as to remain impenetrably guarded? Did the human believe any of what he'd been told?
Had physical contact between them been plentiful, yet not too frequent? Would what was implanted in this human continue to develop…?
Despite his trials and intermittent umbrage, the human had most certainly let go of some of his resistance. It was obvious that he'd become far less disinclined, and much more accepting toward his captor, compared to what he'd been when he arrived. Ghirahim had to admit that a rather interesting rapport had been crafted here.
He continued to listen closely to the human. He waited. The question had been asked. The offer had been made. Now it was up to the hero. Oh, how much easier it would be if he accepted.
Had he overdone it in the woods? Was the chain too much? Ghirahim had made the mistake of striking him out of anger and even playfulness on more than one occasion. He didn't expect that his master would be terribly pleased about that.
But his overly enthusiastic dealings were precisely why distraction had become imperative. Strangely, the human seemed to be enjoying this diversion more than Ghirahim had anticipated. With an aspiration to ease the human's discomfort while diverting him from his fears, the demon had generously showered him with telesmatical energy. It had not, however, been Ghirahim's intention to educe this sort of reaction from him. The result had been a curious one with the way the human melted against him. His breathing had deepened. He seemed to be warming up to him.
Perhaps the notion of setting foot inside the peristyle was too much. Maybe the spirit of death hung so heavily on him that he'd lost all courage. How ironic. Not a bad thing, really. The demon did want the human scared, but just enough to shy away from the prospect of a duel. A delicate balance needed to be maintained.
The demon lord was not particularly into cuddling; but, if affection was what the human craved then he was prepared to give it to him. In fact, if snuggling guaranteed the hero's defection from the Goddess, then in the name of his master he would gladly do it. Actually, he would do anything.
Anything.
The demon's forehead frounced as he thought. His eyes rose with a gleam. A slim smile turned his lips up. His tongue began to enliven in his mouth.
Being curious by nature, the demon's interest in the hero had been fashioned days ago. He'd already confessed to Link his weakness for guilty pleasures in the Acheron Woods. So, at the very least it probably wouldn't shock the human, per se. He'd also mentioned the idea while cornering him in the stairwell. Perhaps he'd sparked the human's own dark curiosity.
Ghirahim had seen Link, both before he'd entered the Deep Woods and afterward, several times. He'd heard him talk and had observed him relating to his little witch.
Fi—Ghirahim's thoughts about the job at hand were nearly all-out appropriated the second the image of the azuline sword spirit had entered his mind. Another object of his fascination, she brought to mind reflections of a time long past, before…everything.
But not now. No, now was not the time.
The human had been captivating in his own right. Ghirahim had had the privilege of witnessing his swordplay. The hero mowed down every last one of the demon's minions with ease. He was powerful, this human. Green, but powerful.
At first the demon had wanted nothing more than to capture this little person; to turn him into a pet, to toy with him and push him mercilessly to the brink in every possible way. Oh, it would have been fabulous, especially after the Sheikah had claimed that serendipitous victory regarding the spirit maiden. His master had been disenchanted to say the least. This left the demon with a nagging itch to project his anger onto someone else, somehow.
Then the hero came around again. The moment he was spotted, the demon was helpless to stop the onslaught of racy thoughts. But before he allowed his overzealousness to take over, he consulted his master. It was a good thing he did, too.
Such an abundance of time had been spent discussing the spirit maiden that her little champion, who had a fascinatingly subdued way about him, had been all but ignored. And he had potential. He could be more than just a toy—this young human who so enjoyed sleeping next to a blazing fire, half-clothed; this hero who had a tendency to be silent most of the time but was inclined to be the very delineation of 'chatterbox' when conversing with the sword spirit.
Utterly annoying, truthfully, the way this insignificant little being was able to monopolize something as splendid as the one trapped in the Goddess Sword. The human had no idea what sort of gift had been conveniently dropped in his lap.
Ghirahim shook his head as his eyes dimmed. He combed through the human's hair, breathing in to partake of its clean scent. It sure beat the stench of bokoblin blood. The sound of the human's shallow breaths as he reacted to the massage was fairly entertaining, as well. It had unquestionably paid off to take the time to search this human's mind beforehand. Being privy to his likes and dislikes meant that Ghirahim had the power to either make him extremely happy or tremendously miserable. At the moment, however, the word subliminal held more appeal for him.
Passing a liberal amount of trance-inducing power through his hands, the demon smiled to himself. This human was restless; perhaps even desirous. Maybe it was permissible to explore a little bit, but only if the human was okay with it. Overstepping that particular boundary would definitely decimate the intricate house of cards he'd built. But at the same time, if the human was ready for it….
A catch twenty-two—the only way for the demon to judge whether the human was amenable or not was to employ the usual tactic. This, of course, involved an action which had the capacity to leave the human distraught and no longer receptive. The solution could very well lead the pair back to square one. Counterproductive, indeed.
Licking his lips, the demon considered his options for giving his tongue free rein. He thought about fabricating a story which would lure him into accepting more energy. It seemed more promising than the use of force, anyway.
Normally a master at finding and wriggling his way through any available loophole in order to get what he wanted, Ghirahim found himself in an unlikely situation. Searching his mind for a moment in an attempt to decide whether the risk was worth taking, he pushed Link away, allowing the hand on his head to slide over his shoulder.
Leaning in low, Ghirahim studied his subject's eyes. Link stared back, obviously trying his best to focus. Examining the human's condition, the demon pursed his lips. Link's eyes were considerably glassy, almost clouded over, indicating that his mind was only partially present. His system didn't seem to be handling the transfer very well.
The demon needed the human's mind sharp. The ability to make a fully-informed decision was of the utmost importance. To have the human give in voluntarily now only to feel violated later would ruin everything.
Damn these rules…
But the situation was more complicated than that. Even if the human was open to the idea of letting the demon have his way, there still existed a slight chance that he could become dependent. And Ghirahim simply couldn't have that right now.
Such incidences were rare, as it would normally take several encounters for a human to become addicted to a demon's touch. But under the proper circumstances it'd been known to happen. Contact had already been made several times. And this human was very vulnerable right now.
No. Such an occurrence would interfere with the Demon King's plan. And time was at a premium. Ghirahim inhaled and looked away.
But, seduced by selfish desire, he was tempted to take this human; to blow his mind, just for the fun of it. To make him, well….
Then, afterward, he could deal with the consequences and decide where to go from there. It was also possible for an encounter such as this to work in his favor instead of as a detriment.
Or he could just ask him. The demon's eyes shifted in thought. The straightforward approach could work, perchance, but he wasn't expecting much. "You want it, don't you, hero?" Ghirahim asked with a devious grin.
Link squinted a few times before refocusing his eyes. "What? What do I want?" he asked, teetering slightly.
The demon's expression changed to an impatient one. "It, sky child, it. Because it would appear that you do." He clasped Link's shoulders.
"Oh," Link said, slowly lifting his hand to scratch his head. The demon's brow came up. Link shut his eyes as he held back a yawn. He looked Ghirahim dead in the eye. "Actually," he said, letting his hands drop lazily, "no."
Ghirahim's eyebrows dropped. So much for that idea. "Then why do you look and sound like you're enjoying my touch, sky child?"
"I'm exhausted, that's all," Link told him. "I mean, it feels…" He stopped and fidgeted, attracting the demon's gaze. "I mean, I haven't slept very well since leaving home. Plus I've been sick all day. And I usually think about Midna before going to sleep, so…." Link looked ineptly away. "It's just habit…." He shrugged. "It makes for interesting dreams," he added, looking at the floor.
So, the hero is in the mood because of that woman? Ghirahim was suddenly looking forward to the possibility of beating him within an inch of his life, and beyond.
Purposely jarring Link out of frustration, the demon dispelled him, shoving him against the wall to wake him up. Link's eyes broadened from the jolt. "Snap out of it, sky child," Ghirahim snarled through gritted teeth. Not expecting such a harsh reaction, Link froze. "I am the only one you need concern yourself with right now. Remember that."
…
The demon's face tensed, signaling to Link that he'd better choose his words carefully. This capricious creature was somewhere between wanting to murder him and just plain wanting him, it seemed. Link wasn't sure what to think about it, especially after being offered something as daunting as an alliance. He took some more dry air into his lungs, opting to remain silent.
"Do you know what I believe to be true, sky child?" Ghirahim asked. He delicately lifted Link's chin. Finding it impossible to avert his gaze, Link submitted to the demon's stare. "I think—no—I know that you're tempted by everything that I'm offering you." The demon brought his face close. "I don't need to delve into details because you know what I mean, do you not?"
Link's eyes, which were hopelessly heavy before had no trouble opening. His mouth opened a bit but he clammed up as soon as the demon closed in. He gulped timidly. The demon dominated his field of vision.
"I can play you more consummately than even you can play your own instrument, human," Ghirahim stated. "Look at how good just a simple touch makes you feel." As he spoke he rubbed Link's shoulder, garnering a flinch from him. After a few deep rubs, however, Link found himself not only wanting to let go, but also wanting more. The change had happened fast. It was alarming.
"Come now," Ghirahim coaxed, "you're an honest fellow." Using only the finger that cradled his chin, he pulled Link closer. Link took an uneasy step forward, feeling torn. "So," Ghirahim whispered, "how do I make you feel?"
Link shut his eyes for a few seconds. He took in a long shaky breath, feeling extremely pleasant, but mostly vexed. He hastily withdrew from the demon and stepped back, driving himself against the wall. "How does Zelda fit into all of this?" he asked, eager to change the subject.
Ghirahim's empty hands dropped. He stood silently for a time. Link wondered what in the world he was thinking. All he could tell was that he looked displeased.
"Sky child," the demon said, his voice low, "you will see her soon. That I promise you."
"That doesn't tell me anything," Link said, as stiff as a board. "She's the center of all this, isn't she?"
Ghirahim cocked his head. "What brings you to that conclusion?" His tone was modulated.
"You took her," Link said. "For some reason you took her. It's why I left my home, why I was brought to Fi and why I'm risking my life. Fi said Zelda and I were part of a great destiny. But she was targeted, not me. I assume she's the core of whatever it is you're doing."
"Don't be so sure, hero."
Link shook his head. "You haven't proven anything to me yet." Ghirahim's expression flattened. "You seem to really want my cooperation. If what you want me for involves hurting my best friend, then you can forget it."
"Human, you were never told th—"
"I need proof," Link said. The demon raised his brow again. "Show me some evidence. How do I know you won't pull a fast one on me and everyone I know if I join you? Will my sacrifice really bring peace?"
"Masses of lives will be spared, sky child. And yes, peace will be achieved."
"For who?" Link asked, standing up taller under Ghirahim's stare. "Someone just told me what you intend to do with the sky realm." Link thought for a moment, searching for the right words. "I have a feeling I'd have to accept that one person's death is justified as long as it achieves the greater good. Under the perfect circumstances, maybe, but…" He gave the demon a stony look. "But not with my best friend."
The stark clash of weapons in the upper hall served as an ominous backdrop to the conversation. Link was starting to feel a bit of discomfiture coming from the demon.
"So, what exactly is it that you're saying, sky child?" Ghirahim asked, his eyes tapering.
"That you aren't going to…." Link took a minute to find the proper words again. "Inveigle me," he finally said.
"I need your full answer, hero," Ghirahim said, a routed look creeping over his face.
Link hesitated, afraid to say it. But he took a breath, squared his shoulders and looked his captor in the eye. He practically had to force bravery to take authority over his survival instinct.
Keep eye contact, he told himself. "I can't do what you're asking." It could've come out more decretorially, but oh well.
Now the demon looked collected, but furious. Link's fingers fluttered until he succumbed to the urge to avert his eyes. What use was there in feigning ferocity without a weapon? He was no match for the demon's strength, or his magisterial powers. He hadn't been all day.
The demon breathed outward. Link paused, feeling as though something had shifted; as if a missing puzzle piece had clicked into place. It was not a good feeling at all. He studied Ghirahim carefully. He appeared as deflated as someone who had put forth a gargantuan effort, but failed miserably. His bubble, whatever it was made of, seemed to have popped. Knowing that the demon's hard work had proved fruitless once, Link understood his anger.
It was painfully obvious that Ghirahim was seething. His displeasure was mushrooming right before Link's eyes. Link required no allusions from the demon to know what sort of impact his words had made.
Ghirahim wasn't saying anything. It made Link nervous. He didn't move, but simply clutched his equanimity. He had to hold it together.
The demon's face looked angry, but also thrilled. He leaned forward and placed both hands against the wall around Link's head. Link grimaced, doing his best not to show fear. But all he could picture was his very own stream of yellow vapors.
Ghirahim glided down, aiming his face toward Link's left side. To his horror, Link felt two lips brush unscrupulously against his sensitive ear.
"Does she know this is a sweet spot for you, sky child?" Ghirahim asked, breathing into his ear. With a gasp, Link shivered and flung his head away.
Ghirahim grabbed the side of Link's face and forced him back. Pressing his nose to his ear, he breathed in heavily, making Link nearly jumped out of his skin. Not only jump but cry out. The frightful sound echoed from every corner of the long, black hallway. He quickly grabbed Ghirahim's arm and stared.
"Getting warmed up for later, human?" Ghirahim teased, rubbing his hands and face against him.
Link stood with mouth gaping and eyes fluttering, trying to decide if pulling away from him or pushing into him would be more effective. Pulling away wouldn't help if he was just going to be yanked back. Pushing hard against the demon might stop him from messing with his ear like that. He could hardly stand it.
But Ghirahim backed away before a decision could be made. Link panted in relief. "I foresee your ears bleeding from the sound of your own screams, human." The demon grinned. "And I've heard you have a silky singing voice. I await your song with bated breath."
Link wasn't sure why, but the demon's tone made him blush. Maybe it was the subtle undertones; the delicate implications; the double meaning of what he'd just said.
Ghirahim looked at Link's anxiously parted lips and chuckled. "Take it easy, sky child. I could, but I won't." He ran his index finger down the side of Link's face, tickling his flushed skin.
Link craned his neck, unable to escape, or even move closer. He could only move against the wall. Leaning his head back, he shut his eyes. He soon felt the cut on his neck being examined. His shoulders scrunched.
He'd almost forgotten his injuries—the jagged wound beside his eye from the tree branch, and the razor cut just below his jawline.
These cuts were still fresh, and the more he thought about them, the more they burned, especially with the demon's fingers tracing them. He had a sudden gut-wrenching vision of Ghirahim leaning down and licking him, scouring his wounds for the blood that he'd so enjoyed earlier.
But still, he couldn't move. He wasn't sure what he was feeling anyway. Was the demon healing his wounds?
"You know, hero," Ghirahim said as he grazed Link's skin, "I love your increasingly acquiescent attitude. But I believe I have something that you've been separated from for far too long."
Ghirahim took a bouncing step back, leaving Link to wonder some more.
The demon lifted his arm and took hold of something unseen. Then, a glimmer appeared above his lissome fingers. Link watched as the shine began to elongate, slowly descending in unison with Ghirahim's arm.
From hilt to tip, a brilliant, glistening blade was pulled out of thin air. Link's eyes widened at the sight. The flawless steel shined even in the unlit corridor. Down it was drawn until the impeccably pointed tip came into view. The demon held the majestic object out of Link's reach, provoking him to thought.
The Goddess Sword.
Link's hands were eager. They wanted to reach for his desperately missed weapon. He could almost hear the blade calling to him. He wanted to hold Fi in his arms.
"This sword is ages old, sky child," Ghirahim said, twirling the blade around. He held it before Link's face. "Do you realize how old this is? Notice the perfectly formed fuller." The demon ran a finger from the guard to the central ridge. He slowly made his way to the tip. He dragged his finger back-and-forth across the sharpness of it, smiling as he did so. Link rubbed the back of his neck.
"Observe the pristine edge," Ghirahim continued, sliding his hand around the body of the blade. With a cautious grasp he ran his hand down. He soon moved it back up. Link watched.
By the fourth stroke, Link realized what the demon was doing. His face turned redder than it had the first time. He swallowed, looking up at the demon.
Ghirahim immediately pressed the blade to Link's throat. "How does it feel, sky child?"
Link gasped, fighting the urge to grab the sword. "How does what feel?" His voice was almost a whisper.
Simpering, Ghirahim gingerly swept the blade across Link's throat. He twitched but didn't budge.
The demon laughed. He wheeled the sword around a second time. "After countless battles, years of use, after innumerable trials, and wearing abuse," he recited, flipping the blade in circles, "no nicks, no scratches, no flaws."
The demon laid the sword in his hands and held it out. "It never dulls." He looked harder at Link. "Or does it?" He smiled. "A warrior is only as good as his sword. Did you know that, hero?"
Link glanced at the blade before turning his eyes up. He bit his lip. "That's not what Fi told me."
"Oh?" Ghirahim asked.
"It was my third day in the woods. I was telling her about Zelda and how I'd jumped after her but couldn't save her. She told me that a hero isn't forged by the weapon that he carries, but by what's in his heart."
Ghirahim's eyes started to roll. "How very charming," he said blandly. "Do you think that I don't know what a heart is, human? A soul?"
Link gave a little shrug. The demon peered down, tilting the sword in his palms. "It shows how little you know, human."
Tossing all apprehension aside, Link leaped forward and grabbed the hilt. Drawing his arm across his body, he summoned as much strength as he could for a horizontal slash.
But the demon dematerialized in a flash of diamonds. Swung through empty space, the blade struck the posterior wall with a reverberating clang.
Turning away from the painful noise, Link lowered the blade and held his chest. He waited for his heartbeat to calm down.
A while had passed before he'd finished gawking at the wall in disbelief.
Seeing that he'd been left in solitude, he pondered. Where was Ghirahim? He looked across the hallway. There, the door to the upper hall, the gateway between life and death, sat silently.
But his sword was finally in his hands. At last, he felt complete, as if a vital part of his body had been returned to him. Staring into the busy room, he squeezed the hilt. It felt odd having wrapped leather against his bare skin.
He was suddenly reminded of his lack of protection. The absence of gauntlets, arm bracers, chain mail, and most importantly, a shield, left him feeling as if he was naked in a ferocious windstorm. He sighed. Such was his circumstance; he would simply have to make the best of it.
Lifting the blade, he examined it. It truly was finely crafted. He had always been grateful for its presence in the precarious Faron Woods; but the deadliness of this place was of an entirely different caliber. Here, the Goddess Sword took on a whole new meaning.
"Fi," Link said softly.
"Yes, Master?" came her familiar, comforting voice.
Sighing, he closed his eyes. "I think I know why you didn't want to tell me what my dream meant."
Fi sat hushed for a moment. "Yes, Master."
"I'm here for a reason, aren't I?"
"You are."
"I'm sorry I got so angry with you yesterday," he said. "I feel like I better say it now while I still have the chance."
"It is fine, Master."
"It's not just the dream. I was a jerk for getting annoyed when you kept telling me to go home, and when you warned me about my attitude. I know I already said it before we went in the temple, but…well, you were right. The whole time. I'm sorry for not listening."
"It is all right, Master."
Feeling better, Link straightening up. He couldn't stop staring into the empty hallway. There was nothing here. Escape might be an option. He looked back toward the door.
"You know," he said, perusing, "I just thought of this poem I studied in ninth-grade English class. I think it fits this moment pretty well." He turned his gaze away from the hall and looked to the doorway. He took a step, determined to put his best foot forward. "The forest is pleasant, dim and deep. Yet I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep—"
"And miles to go before I sleep," Fi said. "Yes, I also recall this poem."
A small grin came upon Link's face as he looked at the ground. "I already know what the answer is, because I know you're not into twisting the truth, but I—"
"That is correct, Master. Prevarications are not part of my design."
Link smiled again. "Right," he said. "I know the answer, but I think I need to hear it. Is it really true that a hero is made up of what's inside, and not how great of a warrior he is?"
"There are many ways to fight a battle, Master," Fi said. "To come to blows with a physical weapon is one. To remain faithful and vigilant in the face of overwhelming opposition is another."
Still smiling, Link kept walking. "What would I do without you?" he asked. But his smile soon died out. Approaching the upper room, he saw that it had fallen silent. He no longer heard the gruff sounds of sparring. "I'm thankful for your company, Fi. I'm glad the Goddess didn't give me an empty sword."
"It has been my pleasure to serve you, Master," Fi said.
Link tried to repel his unease. "I'm happy I have someone on my side."
Taking his stance in the doorway, Link surveyed the large hall. Eyes were already on him. Lots of them. It was as if his audience had been waiting for him. "You ready for this?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," Fi said without a hint of worry.
Link scoffed a bit. "Well, at least one of us is."
