Updated: 04.06.22
Chapter 4
''You can't be serious,'' Auru Nahamani said, looking up from the paper in his hands. His heels, formerly bouncing lightly against the leg of the heavy oak desk he was sitting on, came to a slow stop as he forgot to keep the motion going. ''This doesn't make any mention of the royal family's demise or the veil that lay over the kingdom for no less than two months. Have you been listening to me at all?''
''We don't know how long it's been,'' the mayor retorted, turning from the window to frown at him. ''I cannot base such an important speech on assumptions made by town guards. And it's not like you've been keeping track of it yourself.''
''The duration doesn't matter. The people want their head of township to acknowledge the hardships they had to endure, not feed them false hopes just to preserve the happy carnival spirit. Their pain will be palpable, Kenelm. There's nothing you can do about it.''
''I can lessen it by voicing my assurance that the king is alive and well, even if… slightly incapacitated for now.''
''So you truly wish to preach these lies? They have been working tirelessly to undo the invasion damage, the least you can do is tell them the truth.''
''And how do you think they would react to the truth, eh? If word comes out the royal family has fallen, all manner of lords and barons will come swarming in with their garrisons–''
''Whose garrisons are in the north fighting the invasion, with most nobles accompanying them. And don't try to convince me those who remain will assault the castle. I would fear for your eyesight and your intelligence.''
The mayor frowned darkly at the jab, but Auru knew his boundaries. And he wasn't even drawing close. ''You called me in because you wanted my opinion. You have it. This is a load of garbage and lies and you should be ashamed to even consider presenting this to the hard-working and honest people of this city. They deserve better than this, especially for the carnival.''
''I believe you are overstepping your liberties, Auru. One could almost speak of insult to a higher authority.''
''Oh, do give me a break,'' Auru sighed. ''I am not the mayor and neither do I want to be. I prefer to serve the populace in more direct ways.''
The mayor, a large man to begin with, ruffled himself to near-perfect roundness. His voice was low and threatening. ''I very much hope you're not referring to your outdated little underground community. Without the king's consent, assembling such a group is strictly against the law.''
''Don't be a fool, Kenelm. I haven't even got the resources or the money to fund such a group. And many lords and ladies would have a serious problem with it no matter how beneficial it would be for Hyrule.''
''How come then that we followed one of your messengers all the way to Vigjaro Heights with a message addressed to one of your old crewmembers? I swear, Auru, if you're lying to me…''
''Your spies should do their job properly,'' Auru interjected, suddenly feeling the need to laugh. ''And not just follow my messenger but intercept the message itself. If you had you'd know I wished my dear old friend Mistress Gobinet a very happy birthday and accepted her request to rent the old forge in my Reliance Alley property until the lands around her windmill become safe again. She has been attacked many times, and her mill has suffered fatal damage in that heavy storm because of which she's unable to power her trip hammer. My forge is equipped with a water-powered trip hammering system directly connected to the underground sewers, so it's quite perfect for her needs.''
''And when were you planning on telling me this?'' the mayor asked, folding his arms crossly. ''Last I checked, Mistress Gobinet has a history with that place. She was once your sharpshooter for the Agency twenty years ago. Don't try to take me for a fool.''
''With all due respect to my dear friend, Mélisande is sixty-four and her eyesight has dwindled. Even if she wanted to shoot, her days as a sharpshooter are over. She is there only to fill her coffers for retirement, and needs a safe place to perform her craft. I have seen her padlocks, Kenelm; gorgeous brasswork, impenetrable locking mechanisms. Even the best thieves wouldn't manage to pick their way through those. Believe me, I've tried. It's an ongoing challenge between us, and so far I've had no luck.''
''Spare me the details of your pastimes, I want the rental contract on my desk with her signature by next week.''
''You can have our entire correspondence, if it will help ease off your suspicions, though I must warn you; her handwriting is atrocious and her language crude, and I am sure you have no interest in the intimate crooning of two, ahem… former lovers.''
''You two were… What?''
Auru grinned as he felt colour rise to his cheeks. Let that old coot think whatever he wanted, as long as it enforced his beliefs that Auru had no government-skirting interests in mind and filled his free time seducing women past their prime with his uncanny chivalry.
''Really, Kenelm, I am done with adventuring and fighting. You can have me watched if you like, but I can spare you a lot of work by telling you ahead of time what you'll find out: my mornings will be spent at the College, my afternoons at the barracks, and my evenings at Telma's. Her and I are old friends, and what can I say? We have a thing going on.''
The mayor just shook his head. ''Get out of here, you're embarrassing.''
Auru saluted and hopped off of the mayor's desk. ''Will I see you at the carnival then?'' he asked joyfully. ''I really am looking forward to your speech.''
''You just read my speech.''
''And I think it's terrible. Rephrase it, restructure it, and for goodness' sake, Kenelm, tell them the truth.''
Leaving the poor man to his sulkiness, Auru strode towards the door. Outside the open corridor window, the clamour of playing children and the rumbling noise from the Fountain Road market drifted to his ears. It was livelier than usual, filled with laughter and encouraging shouts as people set up stalls and decorations for the upcoming carnival. Mayor Kenelm's office was in the same building as the merchants' guild, the largest timberframe house in the city's administration district that overlooked the town square. Its glass windows faced the castle, and the daylight filtering through the prismatic barrier reached into the room like a permanent sunset. Soon the clerks from the ground floor would set down their quills and parchments and saunter around the building like a group of children, hanging paper chains and garlands from the shutters.
''Do you believe it?'' Lord Kenelm asked from his place by the window. His tone was grave, and Auru even discerned a touch of sadness that he was not used to hearing from the authoritative man. He paused by the threshold, turning to look back at the mayor.
''The truth?''
''That our little Zelda is dead?''
Caught off guard, Auru found himself briefly lost for words. He glanced out the window at the castle, visible only as a shadowy outline through the glass-like shimmer of the barrier. A rare frown creased his brows; he had not expected the naive mayor to make mention of Auru's former protégé and most talented student. But there had been no malice within Lord Kenelm's voice, and his half-lidded eyes sought Auru's with almost fervent despair.
''I said give them the truth,'' Auru answered softly. ''I didn't say crush their hopes.''
For Castle Town's people, he knew that hope was essential to keep the peace. But for him, only results could permanently ease the turmoil in his heart. He gave the mayor a smile and a nod, hoping it would do some good, before hurrying down the hallway to his next meeting of the day. Young Master Shadrach seemed a promising substitute for his father when it came to scholarly activities for the Resistance, and Auru was looking forward to a much more educated conversation. Emerging at the Townhall door, he did his best to block out the sight of the compromised castle, focussing on the many exhilarated people going by their preparations for the festivities. With a stiff smile on his face, he made his way west.
The Castle Town College of Hyrulean Culture held the majority of scholars in the kingdom and shared a century-old rivalry with the School of Mathematics in Vigjaro and the Nayrunis Lyceum of Applied Medicine. All three were major hubs for the learned and the learning, but the College was unique in its vast variety of academic fields reaching from history to religion and from literature to politics. Auru passed its large double doors and swept his gaze over the high ceiling and scrubbed marble floor, feeling a familiar twinge of reverence; the amount of knowledge surrounding him always reminded him of the hard truth that he was just one man, perhaps gifted with a clever mind but dreadfully ignorant compared to what amount of secrets and wisdom the College could offer. He had been given the privilege not just to tap into that large pool of information but to teach some of it to younger students and thus help arm the next generation with intellect and wit.
For in his heart, Auru believed a good education was the key to compassion, ingenuity, and respect. A generation without war, without famine, without poverty.
And, if he was not researching for his next class, delving into the records of Hyrule's ancient royalty always sated his desires for juicy drama. Many playwrights had made comedic adaptations based on the archives found in this very College and created crowd attractions to last all year long. He could still remember some key lines in last year's highlight, When King Dagobert Lost his Underpants. Grateful for his mind's wandering, he entered the vast library on the first floor and stood by the history section, brushing his fingers over old, scarred book covers and breathing in the musty scent of parchment and oiled leather. He reached for the Royal Chronicles, one of the first classics to be republished in second edition using the ground-breaking letterpress printing technique developed only two years ago, and opened it at the letter D.
From the corner of his eye, he saw movement behind the next shelf.
His lips arched into a smile that he disguised as a reaction to King Dagobert's real-life pant-losing dilemma recorded within the volume, before returning the book to its shelf and resuming his stride towards the Scriptorium. As he had expected, his shadow soon followed inconspicuously. Mayor Kenelm was indeed a quick learner and must have decided to verify Auru's claims. But Auru knew he could keep up his predisposed routine without trouble until suspicions abated.
Through the quiet library he went to a bright side-room that was lit by an array of tall windows. Beyond the glass, the College botanical garden spanned the length of the room like a verdant tapestry.
''Sir Nahamani, over here,'' someone called, and Auru walked towards a secluded alcove illuminated by its own paned window. The niche held two wooden recliners and a large, nearly vertical drawing board designed for copying books. The blond man waving at him was no more than twenty, his large blue eyes filled with the same naive fascination for knowledge that Auru knew so well from his students. The scholar's squared jaw and high forehead hinted at the handsome man he would become, but his skin still bore the youthful smoothness of a pampered aristocrat who had yet to experience the roughness of the world beyond his books and papers. Furthermore, Master Shadrach was one of the few people Auru knew who had commissioned the fabrication of spectacles out of pure necessity; his condition thwarted the use of a monocle – the current fashion trend for the sightly impaired – because of one eye's inability to focus without the other. And the young man's speciality of high-detail pencil drawing demanded the perfect function of both eyes.
''Please call me Auru, Master Shadrach,'' he answered and shook the scholar's hand.
''Of course, but only if you call me Shad. I never liked that throat grating, cough-inducing tongue twister that my father bestowed upon me at birth.''
Sitting down and casually glancing behind him, Auru cleared his throat, promptly switching to Ancient Hylian. ''It is as I had feared,'' he said, the melodic sing-song and trilling of the dead language rolling off his tongue with ease. Shad's fair eyebrows lifted in surprise.
''The mayor is very opposed to another Agency that has the potential to undermine his authority within the city. As a conclusion, I did not even attempt to receive his blessing. In fact, he has me watched this very moment. Don't look over my shoulder, you'll draw unnecessary attention.''
Shad let his initial glance at the half-concealed shadow sweep further across the room with more subtlety than Auru would have expected, and casually crossed his legs. ''I won't deny that this is quite exciting,'' he answered, his own Ancient Hylian nearly flawless. ''To be practically outlaws in the very city we are breaking the laws of. But if we stand without the support of the mayor nor the royal family, getting by will be difficult.''
''That is why we have the Underground Service Accord. It was put in place with the initial Agency but never acted upon because funding was abundant at the time. Not even Mayor Kenelm knows about it, and I would prefer to keep it that way. The man has lost a lot and has become paranoid. The last thing I need is another politician with his hands on our reins steering us into a corner. We are not an Agency any more, we are a Resistance. As such, we will have to make do with what we can make ourselves. That means hard work, no rent, two meals a day.''
Shad reached behind him to pick up his drawing and held it in between them, turning it towards Auru. It showed the ruins of an old amphitheatre with stunning accuracy and detail down to the smallest cracks on the broken columns. ''Sir, I practically grew up in a tent, lived at dig sites and ancient monuments for most of my childhood. I can thrive on honeyed gruel for breakfast and watery stew for supper.''
Taking the drawing, Auru pretended to study it. ''I'm afraid there will be no honey in the gruel,'' he chuckled. ''And work will comprise the use of a lot of ink on your part. Book illustrations, map making, archive work, clerk work. And potential danger in field research. Are you trained in weaponry at all?''
Shad sat still for a moment, thinking. To keep up the ruse, he picked up a grammar lexicon from his shoulder bag and opened it at a random page. ''Not in anything that has a sharp edge. And before you ask, I use this dagger merely as a bookmark. I'm afraid I have never had combat training.''
Auru's initial first glance at Shad's scrawny stature and neatly combed blond hair had already established as much. Scholars might be versed in sword techniques and battlefield strategics, but it was rare to see them actually perform said techniques outside of their study. In Shad's case, Auru anticipated that he would be fighting a lost cause trying to turn him into a warrior. But everyone deserved to know how to defend themselves, especially when the monster population had tripled over the course of several months and roadblocks had become a common occurrence.
''I might be able to help with that, but I am not planning on sending you to your death as a mercenary or a swordsman. I have enough members of that sort already.''
Shad's cheeks began to contrast with the rest of his sun-deprived face. ''Ah yes, the Captain. She is quite a formidable woman, isn't she?''
''Indeed. I am meeting her this afternoon at the barracks. If she is anything like her late father, I am expecting great results from her. As for you, your role will be mainly that of an analyst and scribe.'' Eyeing the drawing, he added joyfully. ''And certainly an illustrator. I must say, your drawings are first rate.''
''Much obliged, Sir,'' Shad answered, his cheeks turning even redder. ''If my vocation can better the state of affairs in any way, I will gladly perform it to the best of my abilities. I am, however, slightly concerned about the few original members of the Agency you told me would join us. They worked under the tuition of my father, and my methods might seem to them a little… avant-garde. Not what they might be expecting. Father was never open to progressive techniques regarding research, and only my years at the College have given me the liberties to develop my own methods.''
''You needn't worry about that, Master Shad. Results are what I care about, and the path to getting results may be as avant-garde and unconventional as you wish. They will grow to respect you just as they once respected Lord Tavun, your father.''
As long as you deliver, Auru's tone said, and by his look of solemn acceptance, Shad got the message. He snapped his book closed and poked the cross-guarded dagger back into the pages. ''If you were tailed by one of the mayor's men, is there a chance he might start shadowing me as well?''
''Most certainly,'' Auru said casually, leaning back and stretching his muscles. ''Kenelm is terrified of losing his power and needs a scapegoat to ease his worries. It will take some time before he turns his attention on other matters. But the Headquarters are designed to lead nosy snoopers astray, as long as we act out our individual roles accordingly. I will send you more details on your pre-established daily routine with the next laundry delivery. Until then, continue your work as usual with particular focus on that barrier around the castle. I want to know if my assumptions are correct. The general meeting will be held on the third carnival day, at sundown. Use the sewer network to get there.''
He was delighted to find Shad's face practically beaming with excitement. To the silent observer concealed among the bookshelves, Shad's joy could have been a reaction to Auru's approval of a well-crafted drawing, or perhaps his praise of the young scholar's Ancient Hylian proficiency. Anything would do, as long as the spy was left with nothing but their body language to determine what had been said. Auru was not even surprised by how quickly the young scholar had caught on; progressive as he was, Shad seemed just as willing to break the law as he was ready to butt heads with potential idealists challenging his research methods. And if he complied with a little makeover to conceal that straw blond beacon of a head, he would prove to be just the man Auru was looking for.
They exchanged a few more comments on the drawn amphitheatre and its old inscriptions, gradually switching back to their native speech while Shad packed away his sketching equipment and slid the drawing into a leather portfolio. They exited the Scriptorium via the botanical garden to hamper the spy's unobtrusive pursuit, and said their goodbyes at the northern College gate.
''Keep up the good work, Master Shad, and I am looking forward to your reports on Zoran scriptures in Panacle Cove. When were you leaving again?'' Auru made sure to enunciate clearly, his voice a trifle louder than was necessary; planting false information for unlettered spies was an art, and one of his most favourite activities.
And clearly, Shad enjoyed it just as much. ''Third carnival day. Two days of celebrating are quite enough for me. I will take a ferry upriver, it's safer that way.''
Auru nodded and shook the young scholar's hand. His mastery of Old Zoran was limited, but he was fairly sure of the correct pronunciation. Placing a hand on Shad's shoulder, he voiced the foreign words with reverent passion, making them sound like a quote. ''I will send you a message for General Farrow. Leave it with the boat.''
Again, Shad's expression lit up with excitement and he inclined his head, spectacles flashing in the bright summer light. His Old Zoran was far smoother as he replied just as devotedly. ''How thrilled I am to be working with you, Sir. It is a dream come true, a dream my father cultivated in my boyish mind with fantastic tales of covert missions and brilliant intrigue.''
''Just be careful,'' Auru warned in Hylian, all trace of joy gone. ''Lizalfos have been sighted in the Lanayru Plains close to the river. If they surround you, you better be prepared to make use of that bookmark.''
He stood by the College gates looking after Shad as he walked down the pavement. As much as Auru could fathom the youth's passion, it was much too easy to lose sight of the very real threat that lurked outside the city walls. Some missions would take them into territory now claimed by monsters, others might hold threats not even Auru could forecast. Seen as vigilantes in the eyes of the government, the Resistance would have no military backup from the city. And even if his message reached General Farrow, Auru doubted the tensions in the north would allow the commander of the Hyrulean army to send a batch of troops back inland for support, no matter how well he was acquainted with him.
But when it came to military prowess, he had landed his best deal yet.
Castle Town's barracks numbered two, each on opposite cardinal points, and Auru's third meeting of the day led him further east towards the weaver's quarters. Many speculations had been made about the reason for the city's training grounds migrating so close to the textile industry, but Auru was convinced it had been a purely carnal one. His own step took on a light spring as he passed the female dyers hard at work over their wool vats, before scolding his immaturity and reminding himself that, with Ashei Amauger stationed at the grounds, no recruit would ever go back to harassing the poor weaver maidens.
Surrounded by a tall brick wall, the small row of rectangular stone houses dwarfed him as he passed the gate and saluted the two guards standing watch. They let him pass with polite indifference, and a few moments later he heard their halberds cross with a clang. Auru made a mental note to compliment their commanding officer on a training well executed; for the next ten minutes, he would be free of his silent pursuer until the nimble man found a way over the wall.
His destination turned out to be the indoor practice hall after he passed the courtyard and found it deserted. And soon enough, shouts and clangs of sabres drifted to his ears as he pushed open the door to the barracks' former riding arena.
''Hold that floret lower, for the love of Hylia! This isn't a fringing ballet class!''
And there she was, a tall woman clad in a leather doublet and tight riding pants. A long, frightfully sharp rapier dangled at her waist. She had clasped her short, coal black hair together in the back with a large, ornate barrette, the rest laying in two meagre strands upon her shoulders. Her brown eyes were narrowed, set hard upon two young, masked duellists. The rest of her students stood in a loose circle around the field, following the match closely.
The Captain suddenly stepped in between the fighters and grabbed the right one's floret. ''First parry, then strike. If you are too slow, at least do me the honour of a good show and add a few spins to your death throes.''
The watching students laughed politely, and the young man nodded behind his egg-shaped mask.
When she turned around, her eyes fell on Auru. With a quick flick of her hand, the duellists charged again and resumed their dance of swirling blades while she walked towards Auru.
''You are early, Sir Nahamani,'' Ashei said. Her voice was deep and mature, betraying her thirty-five years despite the youthful smoothness of her pale face.
''I apologize for the intrusion, Captain Amauger, but I could not pass on an opportunity to see your art in action.''
The woman stopped before him and folded her arms, a scowl darkening her features. ''Pffft, you call it art, I call it hogwash. Swordplay has no place in parade, and neither do those meretricious acrobatics. Does a Lizal care how high over his head I can jump? No, Sir, he does not. And my best swordsmen will be reduced to looking like poppycocks on a mating spree come that ludicrous carnival. If you call that art, I tell ye, Sir, you have truly poor taste.''
Along with Auru's giggles, a high-pitched ringing resounded from the sand pit that had Ashei whirl round within the same second. ''Too high on the guard again, soldier! Do you think these florets grow on trees? Two more hits like this and you can scrape Cadet Alvin over there off the whitewash, with nothing but a handle to work with.''
''Sorry, Captain!'' the student called and saluted sharply.
''Don't be sorry,'' Ashei growled, and the entire hall turned mute. ''Be better. Dismissed, all of you. Go ruffle your feathers, and don't you dare turn up in full costume for the next session like last time, of I swear I'll have you all strung up and quartered.''
The laughter that followed was quiet but sincere, and Ashei's lips showed the faintest upward arch. Sighing, she turned to Auru and shook her head while her class walked out the door, chatting and bantering. ''That carnival has had them bouncing like newly-weds for days. At least it takes their minds off of things.''
Auru's countenance turned hard. ''A luxury the two of us sadly cannot afford any more. I am being tailed, so I do not have much time.''
Ashei's black brow lifted at his words, but her nod ensured he had her fullest attention.
''The mayor is being very uncooperative, so we will have to enact full secrecy for all our operations. Until we know just how great the threat to our kingdom is, I will be expecting the very worst. I need as many trained recruits as possible, with potential use of heavy artillery should it come to a siege.''
''Din curse it, it's really that bad?'' Ashei muttered.
''I've been in touch with a colleague of mine, a monstrologist. He says the monster population has all but tripled over the course of the last four weeks. And not just Moblin. Stals have begun to appear after nightfall, attacking travellers. More and more Lizal migrate from the mountains. Bulblin riders have been causing terror all over Eldin. And to top it all, this barrier has made my nights sleepless. If all this is not a prelude to full-on war, the goddesses are playing dangerous games with us.''
Frowning, Ashei scratched herself behind one of her round ears. ''I wonder…'' she mumbled, sunken in her own thoughts for a moment. ''There have been reports of recent attacks in my home town on Snow Peak. Perhaps they correlate?''
''Most certainly. That is why we need to act, and soon. Your expertise in field work will definitely be invaluable to us, and of course you will have a vote in our missions plan for your services.''
''There is no need to ensnare me, Sir Nahamani,'' Ashei said, her countenance softening. When she was not frowning or scowling, Auru could glimpse a trace her feminine beauty peeking through her stony, soldierly demeanour. No wonder her students were entirely infatuated with her; he had no doubt they would follow her to the depths of Death Mountain and back if she demanded it.
''If it means taking on those monsters and making the roads safe again, the goddesses know I'm on board.''
''Well, first and foremost I would need your charismatic radiance to help with a race of most… prominently proud women. You are the closest match I have been able to find. Of course, only if you're willing…''
''The Gerudo?'' Ashei asked, her surprise reaching its peak. ''Wouldn't you say I am a bit… cold for their taste?''
''When the fires raged uncontrolled over the plains, the goddesses sent a flurry of snow to smother them. A true event.''
''According to your books.''
''Books seldom lie. They take too much time to write to fill them with lies.''
The Captain snorted out a laugh and began walking towards the exit. ''You have a strange way of seeing things, but I am willing to believe you. It'd be nice to shed the old furs for once, walk the sands of our neighbours instead of just looking at them from afar. If you promise me good use of your pyrotechnics, I'm all yours.''
It seemed to be Auru's days for grins, and the one he presented her was twisted with mischief. ''My dear Captain, black powder never reaches its full potential until it is placed at the other end of my fuse. You'll be able to see the fireworks all the way from Ashinon.''
This time, Ashei could not hold back the bounce in her own step as she led him into the courtyard and bade him farewell at the barrack gates. Upon noticing her, the two guards turned as stiff as a board, saluting one too many times. But the Captain seemed to have her mind elsewhere, and the two sentinels got away with it.
As Ashei Amauger's black hair disappeared in the crowd, Auru found himself watching the passing people go by their business. Labourers, servants, nobles, children, all obscured by the encapsulated castle towering over the rooftops. In the sombre, orange light it cast onto them, they held no titles, no wealth, and no privileges. All were equally small before its magnitude.
In Rusl's opinion it was there to protect them, a shield created by the goddesses themselves. But Auru couldn't quite match his former apprentice's blind faith. He had no idea how it had come to be, or why, but deep in his heart he held one firm certainty; it was only a matter of time before the barrier's real purpose was revealed. Before the black fog still visible within broke free.
And he dared not think about what would happen to Castle Town's people once that day came.
0
The sun shone across the dew-sprinkled grass and cascaded into the sunken room. Particles of dust swirled in the low breeze until they found their way down the half-collapsed stairs, tickling Midna's twitching nose, making her snort. Her fingers brushed over the soft surface she was resting on and felt the ripple of coarse fabric. The other blanket rested heavily on her back, enveloping her in a mist of comfort.
She smiled, remembering her first encounter with that strange aura that Link called warmth, and which radiated from his body like an invisible shield. At first she had been convinced he was using some sort of spell that kept her close to him. The concept of temperatures was still not quite clear to her; it was just another of the many feelings and needs she had been forced to accept as part of her evolved body.
She turned her head to the stone wall at her left. Their few possessions were laid out neatly around their modest bed, and shallow smoke billowed from a small firepit. The fire was nothing but embers now, having eaten through the little fuel given to it during the night to leave behind snowy white ash. Wrapped in linen rags, the Master Sword rested by the staircase, its amethyst hilt giving away a slight glint. The air within the cellar room was clear and crisp. Sunlight formed a pool of heat across the earth floor and preluded the rise of another bright summer day.
Frowning, she laid a hand onto her belly, feeling inward until she could perceive the blood pounding within her veins and her stomach's soft gurgling begging for sustenance. No ache, no discomfort, no cold sting in unwanted places. With a grin stretching across her face she bolted up and looked around for her Hylian companion. Today was the day; it just had to be. She felt more alive than ever, wound up like a spring with too much energy to contain. Finally they would leave the woods and head for Castle Town.
But the room was otherwise vacant, and the black cooking pot Link commonly used to gather berries lay empty and untouched by the firewood. Her look fell on the oil lantern next to her resting place; Zant's black arrowhead had been lying beside it, safely packed into another rag. It was gone.
''Link?'' she called, and got no answer. Straightening her crumpled dress, she crawled up the mossy staircase and gazed outside. Link knelt by the cathedral entrance before a collapsed pillar. The crystal was lying next to him in its nest of stained linen.
She frowned. He had assured her he would not try to transform back into a beast without her supervision; who knew what malice could poison him if he touched it again? She was not even sure if it would do as she had predicted; her warning about the stone's power had been a guess more than anything.
Swallowing her irritation, she stepped closer. ''What are you doing?''
He jumped and fixed her with widened eyes. His pupils, she noticed, were larger than usual. His hand at once flicked the rag over the crystal and pushed it out of her reach.
''Why do you have that thing here?'' she asked, taking a moment to notice his appearance. He looked haggard and tired from a night spent awake, and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin with a shimmering film. At her words, his head twitched to the side as if the sound of her voice made him itchy; his hands opened and closed fitfully.
''I feel like it's pushing against my spine,'' he muttered. ''It was just a nuisance last night, but now…'' He closed his eyes and hunched over, moaning as if in pain.
''What are you talking about?'' She made a move to grab the crystal, but he snatched it away before she could reach it.
''Link!''
''It's not working!'' he snapped and tossed the rag aside, now holding the black arrowhead with his bare hands. ''See? It won't transform me.'' With a frustrated yell he cast it to the ground; it bounced once before lying still.
She was at a loss for words; this was the first time since her recovery that he had raised his voice at her. The gentle knocking in her chest – Link had called it her heart – sped up in time with her breathing. This was new. Odd. And strangely frightening.
He whimpered and raked his fingers across his face, leaving five red trails behind. ''It's the only chance I have to set it free,'' he moaned. ''I don't know how much longer I can take this.''
She flinched back as he let out a sudden scream and squeezed his eyes shut. He curled up, pushing away from the pillar to a tense crouch, and rested his forehead on his forearms. ''Din help me…'' Frantically, he began undoing the lace of his collar.
''Link, what's going on?'' She hurried to his side and gently touched his shoulder, but found herself frozen as she watched him snatch up the crystal with a trembling hand.
''What–''
With a hitched breath, Link suddenly drove the arrowhead towards his chest. The tip sank into his skin with ease, and blood instantly welled up around it. His face screwed up with the pain, but his hands remained in place, slowly impaling himself on the crystal.
"Are you insane?!" Midna screamed and made a move to grab the stone, but recoiled with a pained cry as it burned her hands. She withdrew just in time; black smoke suddenly spurted from the small hole in Link's chest, and he screamed. His voice melded with the vortex of smoke rushing around him, creating a sound akin to a whistling thunderstorm. Midna tumbled to the ground and hurried backwards, watching in horror how Link's body was engulfed entirely by the black vapour. Only a single hand remained visible, clawing desperately at the grass, its nails thickening while grey fur shot from the skin and encased it completely.
Emerging from the dissipating fog, the Wolf let loose a triumphant howl and surged towards her. She whirled around and tried to grab a tuft of his fur but touched only thin air. With his claws clattering on the old pavement, Link disappeared into the forest.
"Come back!" she called, laying on her stomach still shuddering with fright. But she was ignored.
Sighing, she drew herself up and patted the dust from her shirt. The last cracking sounds of Link's flurry fell silent within the dense forest. She had half a mind to follow him and drag him home by one of his long furry ears, but if he kept running at this pace he was already long beyond her reach. Uncertain of what to do, she settled down by the collapsed pillar to wait, allowing the morning sun to warm her chilled body. He is sure to be back soon, she thought, blowing onto her cold hands to heat them like Link had taught her. This is the day we wanted to leave for Castle Town.
She had the feeling their planned journey would have to wait a little longer.
The lush clearing seemed oddly vast and ominous without Link's presence to keep her company. And most definitely colder. She paced back and forth across the ruins, sat on the first cellar step watching the treeline for signs of her companion, tried to occupy herself with whatever her hands could grasp from the rich green carpet surrounding her. But the fuzzy texture of flower stalks had lost much of their initial appeal; she became genuinely worried – and quite hungry – by midday, and hurried back into the cellar room to look for something to eat.
Nothing but stale strips of dried meat were left from Link's excursion into the submerged temple. She chewed on one but quickly gave up, washing the rancid taste down with some water. Her stomach growling, she settled down for a nap and soon fell into a light sleep that carried her through the afternoon, and when she awoke alone and found the sun had moved across the staircase opening to vanish behind the last standing wall of the cathedral, her worry and need for sustenance became too great to ignore. Plucking up her courage, she merged with the chequered shadows of the woods to search for Link.
Quietly she scurried across the ground, jumping from shadow to shadow, listening to the myriad of sounds that echoed around her. It was always harder to use the shadows of the environment; Link's shadow moved with him, and therefore so could she. But within the forest and its patchy lighting, she was constantly stopped by a bridge of dying sunlight that blocked her way and forced her to materialize in order to pass it. The transition between her light and shadow form had become, after three days of practising, like second nature to her, and only the sudden sting of cold or heat that hit her like a full-body slap still made her gasp.
But even after such a short time, she had come to see the vast range of perceptions – both pleasurable and uncomfortable – as much more fulfilling than the muted Realm of Twilight that desaturated all sensations like a washed-out painting, or the secure albeit dreadfully mundane shadow world. Every move she performed was accompanied by some kind of reaction; the air parting with a slight chill, her skin flexing and stretching, the warmth between her fingers that became almost tangible when she closed them.
Her body took up room, left dents in the grass where she sat, smudged the soil and made dry leaves rustle, all while her limbs prickled with stimulations never before experienced. Finding new sensations had soon become something close to an addiction; the amount of time alone she had spent just sitting in the grass, barely moving yet still feeling so much happening around her, had filled her mornings and afternoons. The food Link procured for her brought its own arsenal of tastes to her mouth and captured her concentration anew. She had come to understand what it meant to truly exist. Everything she did had an impact. She mattered.
In contrast, her shadow form left her disconnected from all the things she could otherwise influence. Only her voice and magic showed she was actually there.
She stopped in her tracks, locking her gaze on a tuft of grey fur bobbing on a bramble bush. For three days she had been in her own world of sensations, and in all this time Link's presence had gone almost entirely unnoticed. Unbeknownst to her, he had been tormented by the Wolf's longing to be set free. It was just as the princess had predicted. Zant's crystal must have somehow strengthened the connection between Link's spirit and that of his canine counterpart, a connection that had prompted the Wolf to become more driven, perhaps even desperate, to break out of whatever bonds Link had tethered it with. The sheer brutality with which he had plunged the crystal into his chest replayed in her mind like a vivid nightmare. Something must have happened the night before that had driven him to such drastic measures. She gritted her teeth, trying to remember if she had noticed anything that could explain his sudden desire to transform.
But she had been too distracted and self-centred to notice anything out of the ordinary.
Just like before, she thought, and hung her head in shame. I have no care for those around me, only for myself.
That realization filled her with so much self-loathing that she emerged from the shadows and embraced the chill of the undergrowth willingly. Her body soon began to protest with shivers that intensified as the wind seeped through the thin fabric of her dress. But she needed only summon the memory of Link lying huddled beneath his moist blanket, trembling from the biting cold of the Lakebed Temple water, to blight her attempt at retreating back to the safe shadows. Pain and discomfort were now just as much a part of her body as were warmth and cosiness; if she was so hell-bent on discovering all those new sensations, forcing herself to walk over decaying pine needles and crooked roots was a good way to learn.
But as she finally arrived back at the ruins, she found Link had still not returned. By now her chin was jittering so hard she could hardly swallow.
In the sunken room she knelt by the fire, striking Link's fire making tools just like she had seen him do countless times, and found herself tearing up with pain as the flint scraped her knuckles and drew bright, glistening blood. No matter how hard she tried, a spark failed to appear. In the end she gave up and lit the fire with her magic, but she felt no relief. The defeat caused more tears to run down her cheeks, and soon her body was racked with sobs that echoed miserably across the lonely cellar room. She felt alone – physically alone – more than she ever had as a Twili. The heat of the fire gave no relief and only stung her skin until it burned. Her stomach felt numb with hunger, for without Link's help to identify edible plants from poisonous ones she had no way of providing herself with food. It made her once more realize just how much she depended on him, and how easily she had taken his care for granted.
As night finally settled over the peaceful ruins, she curled up on the leaf mattress with the blanket wrapped closely around her, a meek imitation of Link's warm embrace, and let her tears flow until sleep washed over her.
000