A/N: Thank you DiscountPineapple, Moon ninja Luna, Wounded Wing, Guest, PokemonTrainer4700, Walavouchey, and Guest. I really enjoyed reading your reviews and really liked seeing your observations and speculations on aspects of the story. Thanks for keeping me motivated too. :)
Chapter 6
I eat as much as they'll give me. I drink the same. I will not be as weak and incapacitated as I was in Skyview Temple. Not again.
I throw the blanket off when the Lizalfos dump buckets on me, and wring my hair and clothes out before returning to the scratchy wool. I march behind Shii as she takes me to the bathroom, keep a façade of straightforward resolution while my eyes dart every which way, trying to memorize halls and turns.
We have to go down numerous flights of stairs. More than once do I think of pushing her down them, watching as her body tumbles. I restrain myself, however, as it is uncertain if I'll be able to shove her with enough strength, or if she'll just whirl around and backhand me after the attempt. I know how Lizalfos fight. Even if I succeed, she'll likely catch herself mid-roll, race back up steps she's fallen over, and bruise me until I can't walk.
I think she senses my contemplated intentions. If I stare at her back too hard, she glares over her shoulder, hisses through rows of sharp, needle-like teeth.
That's right, I think. Lizalfos can feel when someone is watching, can sense their enemy's malice. It's why sniping them with arrows never worked. Shii will know I'm going to push her right before I actually do, and she'll side-step, and then I'll be the one tumbling down the flight of stairs.
A foiled endeavor before it could even begin.
My fingers twitch from where they hang at my sides. This antsy feeling won't go away. I need to do something, I need to get out. There is a feral instinct in me that demands freedom. But no matter what I think of, the end result is failure.
The shadows sway along with the flickering torches lining the endless stone walls. I think of grabbing one, using the fire as a weapon. Could I even wrest it from the stone? They don't look detachable. Stone and metal do not easily come apart. If only I had a dagger, a knife, something… My eyes wander to Shii's holsters. If I could be quick enough, if I could mask my intent...
And then I think of the follow through. Stabbing her. Shoving the blade into her spine, her gut, her…everything. The mere thoughts make my heart cringe. There can be no hesitation and, and…I'll hesitate. Just like I froze with the Bokoblin, back in the forest. Only Shii won't be at my mercy. I'll be at hers.
I remember the blood of the Bokoblin that covered me. Blood everywhere, speckling my clothes, dripping from my blade.
My legs freeze. I stop with one foot down and the other stuck on the step above. My arms come up to curl in front of my chest, bird wings bent against an onslaught of images pelting like icy rain. I can't, I can't, I don't want to, says a small, frightened voice within me. What choice? Must fight! screams another like an illiterate cavewoman.
"What are you doing, human?" Shii has turned, sleek tail sweeping the stairs in twitchy, irritated swipes.
What choice would I have? Maybe I could just wound her. But then, even if I managed to get away from Shii, how am I supposed to get out of this…dimension, or this part of the surface, or whatever it is? This dark world.
"I asked you a question," she hisses.
And if I escape this place… Oh, who am I kidding? I won't even be able to get out of the castle before Ghirahim catches me. And then he'll have fun enacting a punishment, no doubt.
My wrist is snatched by a scaled palm. "Keep moving, human, or I'll drag you back to your cell!"
My teeth bare automatically at Shii's growling tone, and from the pain of her grip. "You're lucky I don't have a shotgun!" I spew in English, meekness overridden by sudden rage.
Shii's yellow glare goes blank. "What?"
"…Nothing. I have to pee."
Her snout wrinkles. "Well, you don't seem to be in any hurry. I think you can hold it a while longer."
And with that she forces me back up the stairs.
I wince as she guides me by the nape of my neck, and my hands clench into fists. "If I had a shotgun, if I had a pistol, I wouldn't have to worry about being squeamish. I'd shoot first and ask questions later!" English bounces around the stairway, because I'm not brave enough to mouth-off otherwise, apparently. "Actually, I'm rethinking the whole knifing thing, too!"
"Shaa haaf ssil?"
I blink at the whispery, snake-like words. "…What?"
Shii grunts. "I asked what you speak. It is not Lizalfos tongue, or Bokoblin, or any other kind of dialect I've heard for that matter. Is it words at all, human, or are you spouting random nonsense?"
My brain takes a moment to process. "Wait, you guys…all have your own languages?"
A snort. "Prophet that knows nothing. Obviously we do."
I blink repeatedly as comprehension slowly occurs, and I try to throw a questioning glance at Shii. "Do you all know Hylian?"
"Very few are educated in your tongue, human."
Images flash before my mind's eye, of a boy in green fighting hordes of silent adversaries. A language barrier, huh? Well, that explains the lack of banter between Link and his enemies.
"…So how do they understand Ghirahim?"
Shii's claws prink into my neck. "Do you think my lord a simpleton? He knows the languages."
"Which ones?"
"All of them."
My mind stutters. "Oh. Cool. I…I could never learn any other languages, when, uh…" I trail off, not sure how to explain my previous life's schooling.
"I'm not surprised. You are very stupid."
My teeth clench, and I refuse to speak to Shii any further.
Shoooot her! echoes a Jurassic movie quote from another world. Shoooot heeeeerrr!
My fingers curl around an imaginary trigger. If only, I think. If only.
A large part of me said to disregard Ghirahim's promise—or threat, as it were—and I was content to wallow in solitude. He's shown in-game to be thoughtless concerning humans (concerning anyone, anything, except for himself and his master) and he's forgotten me before. But that was just hopefulness getting the better of me, wasn't it? I shouldn't have been shocked when he walked through the door, blade in hand.
A bead of red trails down my arm, leaving a bloody line in its wake.
I wasn't fast enough.
With heart hammering and lungs heaving, I stagger back to my feet. The side of me that doesn't want to fight has been rather loud lately, and it's been lulling my thoughts, stalling my movements. Now, however, I find myself snapped back to reality. The cut high up on my arm sears with pain, and it is the pain that paves the road for anger.
I doubt a shotgun would harm Ghirahim, but, oh, how I'd love to try. Just to see those balls of lead pepper him, even if they're likely to bounce off with sparks…heh, I bet it'd shock him good, and seeing that expression would be more than worth the futility. Unfortunately, I'm stuck with a dagger. But I guess I can't complain. At least I have something.
I grip the dagger's hilt so tightly it burns my palm. It's one of Shii's, but I'm wishing it was one of Ghirahim's. Then I'd actually have a chance at hurting him.
Hysteria runs rampant, trampling the fear that shivers beneath my skin, and my feral grin surfaces. It clashes with the tranquil, smug smile he wears so coolly.
But I'll settle for any kind of slashing and dashing, so long as I can best him, even if in a mere game of tag. Winning is subjective to me; I know I'll never truly defeat him, so I come up with my own rules in my head. If I hit him, I 'tag' him, and if I tag him, I win. A small victory that means nothing in the grand scheme, but for now it is only these little triumphs that keep me from falling into a hopeless abyss.
I run at him, going low in reaction to a horizontal slash he has scarcely begun to commit. I fake a charge at his stomach, slide around him to get at his back instead. He follows, pivots on his feet. I throw myself through the gap between his legs. When I shoot up, I am back to back with him. I do not have time to turn around, so I jab, jab, jab my dagger behind me, aiming for his side, his spine, anything. There are loud clangs. Is it him? Or did he block it with his blade?
When I dash away and whirl around, I see him. Just him. His black sword is nowhere near the strike zone. He did not block it.
My lips twitch, manic grin falling into a sincere smile that feels more like sadness. "Tag," I whisper, "you're it."
I remember enough of his moves from the game, and my body is now healthy enough to keep up, if barely. So when he starts teleporting, he doesn't catch me unawares. If anything, he's given me an advantage by doing so. I know exactly what to do.
As soon as I see those diamond flurries I'm turning and slicing.
He's the one caught unaware.
I look forward to the surprise on his face, expect it. And so when I am met, instead, with a widened smile, I cannot fathom it.
The demon struts backwards like he's on parade, snaps his fingers. The red-glow blades materialize before him, hovering, spinning.
My breath catches. Here's my chance.
Just one. I just need one.
The daggers shoot forward, red light glaring a path behind them. The Lizalfos dagger clatters to the floor. My heart leaps to my throat as I run to meet them, twisting to the side at the last minute, reaching out.
Blood and pain gather in my palm as it closes around blade. I didn't quite make the hilt. I guess that's what I get for being overzealous, but at least I caught it. I transfer it to my right hand, let the bloodied left hang at my side, and fight back the tears, bite down the whimpers.
Ghirahim tilts his head. "And what do you think you're going to do with that?"
"Um, stab you?" I squeak, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing ach in my palm.
"Is that so?" He smiles, and then snaps his fingers.
The glowing dagger disappears in panes of black and gold diamond.
My heart stops for a second. And then it goes double-speed. "Son of a bi—!" I bite my tongue, and then, "That's not fair! I—you! You—!"
I hunch over, gripping my injured hand to my stomach, with every known curse word, both Hylian and English, surging through my head. Eventually it comes out as a strangled scream, filling the room, threatening to burst it apart. Ghirahim's laughter rises in the after-echoes. My glare glints with tears. I blink rapidly to rein them back in.
"You are just too fun, darling!"
"I gonna kill. Everyone. You love." After I say it, my snarl flips into a fit of giggles. Just as quickly as it came on, it stops, and my face goes deadpan blank. "…It's funny because you don't love anyone."
His wicked smile holds no remorse, and he raises his hands in a half-hearted shrug. "Who says I don't?"
I burst into laughter—cut it off abruptly. "…Oh, I'm sorry, was that not a joke?"
Diamonds flash and Ghirahim disappears within them. Before I can turn around, I am thrust into the cold, hard stone of the floor. A great weight presses me down and it feels like a tree has fallen on me.
But it's not a tree. It's a demon.
His right arm comes around my throat, while his left hand pins my wrist out from me. My unrestrained right arm stretches, hand pawing at the ground, clawing out for freedom.
"Now, now, little bird," he whispers in my ear, "what have we learned about letting our guard down?"
"P-piss off!" I say it in pure panic, do not think of the consequences.
His arm tightens, pulls upward, and I am made to arch with it to keep breathing, fighting for every quivering intake of air.
"Manners," he hisses. Then his tone goes back to pleasant. "Now, how are you going to get out of this one?"
"Please…get off me."
"Oh, she knows how to say 'please!'" he says excitedly before his tone goes dark. "Try again."
Get off me, get off me, getoffme! My mental demands go unmet, and my eyes zip to and fro. They land on Shii, standing ever-vigilant by the door. Humiliation rises to my cheeks at the witness. It was one thing for her to watch me fight a losing battle, and now to see me pinned down and subjugated? I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to bear it.
And yet, for some strange reason, I get the urge to tell her to run. Save yourself. As if she's next or something.
His arm is constricting.
My right hand searches in tandem with my mind. It's difficult for anything to move, even my thoughts, with this slab of rock bearing down on me. The skin of his coiling arm is cool and smooth like iron, and I distantly realize there is no heat seeping through my clothing from him. Yet the breath breezing at my ear is oddly warm. It is then I am reminded: this is a sword spirit on top of me, not a human. Not a human, no human weaknesses. Unstoppable at this point in time. I deflate at the thought, going limp.
"Giving up?" There is a hint of triumph in his voice, along with a ting of disappointment. It is the latter that confuses me.
I am arched up further, and my control snaps.
I twist my head, bite at his face, teeth clamping together with a resounding click. He only has to jerk back slightly, and my peripheral shows his amusement at the attempt.
It is then my right hand comes around with the Lizalfos dagger. I aim for his eye.
The dagger point does not connect before he rears up, but my neck is released, and that is what I was really going for.
My victory is short lived, however, as he grabs my nape and slams me facedown before I can scramble away. He straddles me, his weight resting solidly on the small of my back. He growls, hand squeezing my neck, tighter, tighter.
And then in the next moment he's chuckling, death-hold loosening. "Clever, darling. I didn't see that coming."
"You should have," I grind out, "considering it was coming for your eye."
The soft laughter that resonates from above me is…it's...
Well, if I didn't know any better I'd say it was almost…genuine.
Too bad I do know better. It's probably just some weird variation of condescending that I'm not used to.
"…Can I get up now?"
"Mmm, say the magic words."
Oh, hello overgrown demon child. I didn't know that saying existed in this world too.
"…Please?" I hiss.
"Please, what?"
My mind falters.
His hand presses me as he leans down to my ear again. "Who am I, servant?"
My molars grind against each other, and I lace as much sarcasm as I can get away with into my high-pitch, pleading words. "Please, 'Master,' oh please let me up." Dickwad, goes unsaid.
His weight leaves me in one swift motion.
I'm really starting to suspect Ghirahim can't detect sarcasm.
Before I can get up, a bottle of red potion bonks me on the head and topples to the floor. I grab it as it tries to roll away.
The demon sighs. "Well, that was a nice little distraction, but unfortunately I'm still feeling irritated."
He makes a show of pacing back and forth, and my eyes follow him, even as I sit up and uncork the bottle. I am not fooled by the nonchalant swing of his arms, or the careless loll of his head. When he stops in front of me suddenly, every fiber of me tenses. He crouches, eyes sparking with dark intent, and asks the question I knew he would.
"Where is the spirit maiden, little bird?" His tone is courtly enough, but then it dives into a drastic snarl with, "I'm getting tired of waiting!"
My heart flutters like the beat of little wings, afraid, wanting to fly, to get away. I choose my words with the same care of diffusing a bomb. "…There is a spring somewhere on the mountain, a spring she must go to in order to awaken her true self. She will be there. As for her lateness…you can ask her when you see her."
Ghirahim shoots into a standing position, and despite the steel clamp of my will, I flinch. He resumes pacing, only there is no air of nonchalance now. Now he is as a caged tiger, beyond ready to be set loose.
The trembling I've so carefully kept under my skin is borrowing its way to the surface. The red liquid in the bottle ripples with the mini vibrations running through my arm. I do not want him to see my fear; I want him gone—go away!
Suddenly an idea strikes me. Maybe I can send him off by faking a 'vision.' Something to do with Eldin Volcano.
My eyes go wide, as wide as I can make them go.
Geez, I hope this works. Or I'm in for a beating.
"Shattered key…"
He turns to me. "What?"
"The shatter—shattered key," I say distantly, stare focused on something far away.
When he crouches back in front of me and glares into my eyes the act almost breaks, and I am forced to lie not only to him, but to myself. Yes, this is really happening, I say to me. You are having a vision, you are having a vision, your head hurts, you cannot see in front of you—look through him, through him…
"The key, the broken key." Restraint fades and the trembling is allowed out. "She's stopped at the temple door. She can't get in…because of the broken key…"
Ghirahim's hand grasps my shoulder and I jerk under his touch. Shivering, shivering, I keep the faraway look, and suddenly I find my head really does hurt. There's white, white, buzzing at the edge of my mind. Images of what I want to see flicker before my mind's eye like they're really there.
"Your aura is…" He doesn't finish.
I snap back, stare refocusing on the demon. My brows come down sharply. "Is that why your Bokoblins break the key to the mountain door and hide the pieces? To stop the spirit maiden from entering?"
His eyes narrow. "Why don't you tell me?"
I shrug. "I dunno. I saw her going that way, up the mountain. Except the key to the mountain door was broken…and she was stuck, I think? It was hard to tell."
Ghirahim stands.
"Sooo," I egg on, "is the mountain door still open or…?"
He snaps his fingers, the panes of diamonds blare, and then he's gone.
Just like I wanted.
A part of me twinges with regret.
Huh, I think. When I played the game, I always thought it odd how the Bokoblins were smart enough to not only shatter the key to the Earth Temple, but to hide the pieces as well. Maybe…maybe they weren't. Maybe Ghirahim ordered them to do so. And what incited him to give that order…
Nah. I shake my head. I'm thinking too much. I'm not the cause of anything; I'm not even meant to be here. It'll happen no matter what I…
There I go again. I squeeze shut my eyes, fight off the careless mentality. I may not be prominent enough to change things drastically, but I can make Link and Zelda's life more difficult if I'm not careful… After that thought, I curse, realizing I did just that by breaking up the key. I'll just have to—
The twinges of regret turn to full on blows. In my mind's eye I see the ending credits of the game, pictures of Zelda's side of the journey. The door to the Earth Temple was where she was captured. And now, because of what I've done, it is my fault. All to get Ghirahim's focus off me. I am a coward.
What have I done, what have I done? What do I do, what do I do—
"Mumbling to yourself again, human?"
The whispered English fragments I didn't know were leaking forth are stopped.
I glare at Shii, and grumble, "Never a moment of peace."
But the language of my true people continues on as I try to think up ways to help Link and Zelda, the Hylian syllables slowly being overcome, piece by piece. Those words of another world lull me into a sense of calm, replaying in my head until I can hear nothing else.
My sleep is usually consumed mostly by blackness, exhaustion being too great to allow any images to break free, to show themselves in dreams.
But tonight I dream.
I dream of little white churches, of people singing, of people dancing, against the backdrop of a gray, dreary city. I dream of hallelujahs shouted in spite of grief, of thankful smiles in in the face of poverty. I dream of a flower blooming between the cracks of concrete, a colorful silhouette swaying to an unheard song on the sidewalk.
A woman with dark skin and reddish hair appears before my mind's eye. Her smile is soft, kind. I do not know her, but she reminds me of a best friend I used to have.
Used to have…
I wake to blackness, fall back to sleep to the colors.
I dream of a dog leading a blind man through a bustling intersection, impatient horns beeping, the hum of people drowning out the singing birds overhead. The man and the dog march on, undisturbed by the noise and glare.
I know that dog, I know that man. I watched them cross that intersection many times.
They march on even when I am not there to see them…
The images switch suddenly, like a television channel, to a man and woman, both dressed in clean-cut business suits. They stand side by side. A young man is with them, but he stands farther away, too far to reach out and touch. My father and mother and brother. The shadows of their backs face me as they walk away. I am left under the awning of the little white church, and it has gone strangely silent.
I dream of life in death, yet I cannot find either.
The funeral choir has stopped playing; the melancholic chords of Ave Maria have faded into the quiet. The people file out of the church, spreading out, spilling into the gray city. They walk by me, around me, through me, until there are none left. They are no longer with me; I am no longer with them.
I stopped praying a long time ago…
I wake again to the blackness of the tower, only this time my face is wet, and in my delirium I can't figure out why.
You've forgotten me, haven't you?
In a world so far away, you've all moved on.
I shouldn't be surprised, but…
I am.
I know I said I wouldn't be, but I am.
So despairingly, crushingly, am.
Waiting. Most of my time is spent waiting.
I don't know when the sun came up. I opened my eyes to its dim, ever concealed light. The clouds never dissipate in this place. Thunder rolls with the charging storm heads, riding on the wind, softly this time, distantly. But it'll come close sooner or later.
Ghirahim's magic has faded from the window. The golden panes of diamond glass are gone, and the tower breathes in the damp air precedent of rain.
I keep the wool blanket wrapped round me as I sit cross-legged and hunched over, head bowed, eyes closed. Waiting.
Maybe…just maybe I should be praying…
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, and pressure builds within them.
I've already prayed a thousand prayers…
The thunder is coming closer.
The door slams open, hitting and bouncing off the wall so hard it chips the stone. When I raise my head I expect to see Ghirahim.
I see Shii instead, standing in the doorway, chest heaving and eyes glistening.
"I—have had—enough!" she growls so fiercely I flinch.
I cannot look away from the rows of needle teeth she has bared, even as she stalks up to me and snatches my wrist in a crushing grip.
"You are coming with me, and you are going to fix it!"
What? I cannot form a reply, am not given time to. I stumble behind Shii as she drags me out of the tower and down the long spiral stairs.
A/N: Jurassic Park reference for the win? Well, I hope you enjoyed reading. I'll try to get the next chapter out soon. =^.^=