Chapter 11

Link instinctively crouched to ensure his balance. Cringing, he realized his pot lid was on the ground behind him, and he would have to turn away from his assailant to retrieve it.

Daren seemed to know this, too, and he gave Link a small nod with a wave of his fingers, crawling out from under his arm. "Might as well be at your best," he said, not in a taunting tone, but with a hint of regret. "No need to die honorless."

Link backed away, nearly tripping over his pot lid. He used his foot to drag it to the front of his legs, and bent down to get it, never taking his eyes off the Yiga. With a bit of breathy effort, Link wrapped his arm through the straps of the makeshift shield, then held it up in front of him.

"I know what you're doing. Here, at the castle," Daren said, analyzing even Link's most minute movements. Link would need to be careful how much he revealed with every twitch, turn, and even where he looked. Daren continued talking, but he put his hands on his hips. "You're going to help the princess. Why else would you have the Master Sword, Hero?" He'd said the last word as a jab, and though they weren't good friends by any means, Link liked to think there was respect between them. Still, the tone hurt, and yet he refused to let it show.

"I wish it didn't have to be you," Daren continued. "In another life, we might have been comrades."

Link didn't lower his sword even a millimeter, though that's what this Yiga was trying to get him to do. To relax. To let go. To hope. "I wish that too, but here I am."

The Yiga chuckled darkly. "Here you are, indeed. Well," he pulled out a crescent blade from its sheath on his back. "I can't let you stop Calamity Ganon, not again. And I can't let you help the princess. I have to stop you, though it pains me to say it."

"I don't think it does," Link replied, trying a delaying tactic.

"Come now, give me some credit," Daren said, twirling his blade to make a whistling noise. It was pitched perfectly, the exact song of a sand sparrow. This blade was razor sharp and expertly curved so that it not only made that noise, but that it magnificently fulfilled its sole purpose of killing. This was far from a practice blade, not that the Yiga ever used anything but the real thing. Link knew these things not because he remembered learning them, but because they were carved into his brain so deeply that they were impossible to forget.

Daren eyed his blade and twirled it again, again sounding a whistle. He stabilized into a crouch of his own. "Are you ready?"

"Do I get a choice?" Link asked, being cheeky and trying to delay some more. It wasn't working, and they both knew it. At least Daren had the decency to look amused.

"No," he said, starting his attack with a lunge to Link's legs.

Link hopped back, hitting the wall with his shoulders first with a thump, then ragdolling a bit for the rest of his body. He hadn't realized the stone wall was so close. The air burst from his lungs, and before Link could regain it, Daren had disappeared and reappeared further away, then sprinted towards him, gaining momentum as he got closer.

Link fell to the ground out of the way, and Daren swiped and skidded to a stop before hitting the wall behind Link. His hand met the wall, and he deftly changed course and turned around. Link rolled away into a stand. He wished he could see Daren better under the rocky overhang, but it was dark. He was surprised Daren had found him in the first place, but he must have been here, waiting.

Out of nowhere, Daren disappeared again, leaving behind an orange, puffy glow of sparks. Link jabbed his elbow behind him, anticipating the Yiga to reappear there, but Link's elbow met free air. Instead, Daren showed up above Link, on a balcony on the next floor up.

"You know," Daren said, sitting on the balcony wall above Link, casually dangling his legs as if playing a game. "You really should have let me teach you to shadow sneak."

The invitation from long ago, when they were in the Yiga safehouse near Fort Hateno, came back to Link. He shook his head, remembering his own obstinance and pride. With a low growl in his throat, frustrated that he couldn't reach his enemy, Link agreed. "I know."

Gleefully, Daren rolled backwards onto his balcony, then reappeared behind Link with a poof. Link swung the sword as he rotated around, but his opponent was just out of reach. He grunted just a little, and Daren gave a hearty laugh. "When are you going to stop playing around?" Link grumbled.

"Not having fun?" Daren asked. From across the stone path, he unsheathed another crescent blade and twirled it. Its cry was just as melodious as the first. "Fine. We'll do this the hard way. No nonsense. No hesitation. No fun. Got it." He disappeared with a poof, then reappeared directly in front of Link.

Link, preparing for him to reappear behind him, jabbed his shield-hand elbow behind his back. He stumbled back when Daren wasn't there, and was instead in front of him, slicing his torso instead. The cut made a bloodied gash in his middle, and Link saw the blood before he felt it. In the moment between knowing and feeling, he swiped the Master Sword across his front, plowing through one crescent blade and hitting the Yiga's right bicep straight on. Daren's other crescent blade flew out of his right hand as he instinctively recoiled from the blow. He yelped as he dropped that arm, letting the blood from his own cut soak his Yiga armor, a pool of deep crimson growing along the red backdrop.

Hissing, the Yiga stepped back, holding his gash with his other wrist. "You've improved," he whispered in surprise, almost awe.

Stepping back himself, Link lifted his own hand, still holding the Master Sword, and gently touched his torso with his wrist. When he pulled back, his wrist was dark red, and he finally felt the stinging over his stomach, like his body wanted to tear apart at this new seam. He looked down at the tear in the shirt. A clean cut. "Thanks," he said stoically.

They stood there, each handling their cuts, assessing how much further they could go. Link had been in enough battles that he knew when someone was going easy on him. Daren was not going easy on him, but he was showing just a hint of restraint. The way he didn't start the skirmish right away, letting Link get his bearings and equip his shield. The way he at least tried to have some sort of conversation with him, honoring Link with time and answers. And the way he used his crescent blades—he could have gone straight for the neck all this time, but he hadn't.

Hunching over his wound, trying and failing to soothe the excruciating pain wiggling across his middle, Link breathed in and out, always keeping a watchful eye. Daren was doing the same, but turned his right shoulder away. He had let go of the crescent in his left hand and was now fully palming the gash in his arm.

"You don't actually want to kill me," Link noted, wincing with every breath. "Why not?"

The Yiga's eyes darkened slightly, though it was nearly impossible to tell in the darkness of the night. The moon was higher in the sky now, hovering over the castle parapets. Daren glared at Link, questioning. "You want me to?"

Link winced again as he looked down again, and pressed his shield strap against his wound, trying to stanch it. "Not exactly. I was mostly just curious. Yiga don't take prisoners, and they don't leave a job unfinished. So why are you leaving your mission unfinished? You came here to kill me, so do it. Live up to your name."

Daren looked up at the stars, as if in prayer, then back to Link. "I don't have to kill you. Just to stop you. There was nothing in my assignment that said there had to be any killing."

Link shook his head. "We both know that not killing me would leave a loose end, something I imagine your Kohga wouldn't care to have."

The Yiga's ears perked up at the mention of his chief. "You think you know him? His motives? You can't, and never will. There's more to him than you think."

"No, there's really not," Link said before Daren could say any more. "He's lazy, imbecilic, and a disgrace to the Clan. The prestige of the Clan now is only a fraction of what it used to be, because of him. A hundred years ago, under Master Gehrik, the Clan actually achieved its purpose in ushering in Calamity Ganon."

The Yiga stood there, not confirming Link's accusation, but not denying it either. "Well, I'm sorry Mister Hero, Mister Perfect." He was nearly yelling now. "Sorry that we couldn't live up to your expectations. But even though you think he's not worthy to be chief, a chief he remains, and deserves respect."

Link shook his head, regretful. "That's not how it works. He has yet to prove he deserves that title." His voice was quiet, confident, a contrast to Daren's. But he felt no less indignant, and no less justified.

The Yiga was shaking his head as well, in denial. "You know, I thought I liked you, Link. I thought we could have worked well together. But now I think that ship has sailed, and it's not coming back." He looked up again to the moon and stars lighting their battle.

"If you stop now, and I proceed through the castle, you know whose head is going to end up on a stake at the Hideout," Link said, standing up straighter and cringing as his torso seared with pain. "I'm going to help the princess. You can stop me, or you can let me go. There is nothing between. The choice is yours." At this, he turned back toward his belongings in his little alcove, gathering each piece of his life, his memory, one by one. He felt Daren's piercing eyes behind him, but he didn't care. The moon was getting redder by the minute, slowly shifting from orange to pink, a mirror image of a sunset all on its own.

Then he started up the path, and he did not turn back.

All was silent save for the light thunk of his boots on the grass-overgrown stone walkway. With the Master Sword strapped to his back, followed closely by his pot lid shield protectively covering it, Link strode forward, legitimately not knowing what the Yiga would do. If he were loyal to his clan, he would finish Link off right then and there. The simple act of hesitating told Link where his heart was. Daren was fighting his own inner conflict: show mercy or fulfill his assignment. No middle ground and no compromise. His own battle for reconciliation was like Link's: his upbringing with his mission versus experiencing the world without the Clan. His core was at war—

An orange poof appeared in front of Link. Daren held his crescent blades out in a bracing stance, holding them out across his chest, one above the other. Ignoring the pain in his arm, the Yiga breathed out slowly, his right arm slightly shaking.

The time for reconciliatory words was over. Choices made could not be unmade. Link pulled the sword from its sheath on his back, gripped it with both hands, and entered into a defensive stance.

Metal clanged against metal as they fought. Daren favored his left arm, keeping his right arm behind when possible. Link tried to go after his right side, but it was difficult to access. Crescent blades twirled, whistling as the Yiga swung them past his ear, borderline deafening. Yet, the sound was strangely familiar. It was something Link had lived with for so long, and it almost sounded like home. As he fought, he imagined the sand sparrows singing to their mates in the desert. Sand whipping past, sunlight boring down on them, the birds pecking at the rinds of forgotten hydromelons. The sights and sounds of what used to be his home. It was also Daren's home, and regardless of whether the Yiga lived or died here, he would never see it again. If he lived, there would be no homecoming for him.

Link considered his opponent for a few more blows, then his right arm started to burn from the effort. As he dodged a swipe, he released his pot lid and shifted his hands on the sword's blue handle so that his left was on top, relieving his right arm. His left was not only stronger, but the sword felt so much more comfortable in that configuration. While he was passable right-handed, his left hand was where a weapon belonged.

Daren watched the exchange in abject resignation. His face fell as he realized the fight would not only keep going, but that Link had disadvantaged himself the whole time, and was now more powerful. Beads of sweat were already soaking Daren's mop of dark hair, and his bicep wound was still fresh, though it had crusted much of his sleeve. Heavy eyelids blinked twice, and his posture dropped in defeat. Two crescent blades fell to the ground with distinct clinks that would be etched into Link's mind until his end. They clattered, chaotically reflecting bright red moonlight in a dance.

Tired, sweaty, and breathing heavily, Link raised the Master Sword to chest level, threatening to thrust. Daren fell to his knees and bowed his head. "Just do it," he said. "Just kill me here."

Link was ashamed that the thought had legitimately crossed his mind. But he hesitated, wondering. What kind of person did he want to be? Was he the kind of person who would kill someone who had showed him kindness on multiple counts? Was he the kind of person who would turn his back on someone he could have considered a friend? Or would he rather press forward, step around the Yiga, and continue on his path?

Would killing this man be a mercy?

Link shook his head and lowered the Master Sword. No, he was not that kind of person, but it was a decision that travailed his spirit more than he'd expected. Daren had made his choice, had waged that war with his heart. But Link didn't have to decide this man's fate.

When Link didn't respond except by hesitating, Daren looked up at him. Tears had pooled in his brown eyes, threatening to fall soon. Link waited, Daren blinked, and the tears came freely. The Yiga wiped at his face using his clean left sleeve. "I have nothing now. No home that will take me," he whispered, struggling to speak through the sobs in his throat.

Sympathetic, Link put a hand on Daren's shoulder. "You can make a new life. Believe me, I've been there. You can make a new home. Be a new person. Someone better."

The Yiga stared at Link, his eyes pleading for understanding, red-rimmed and desperate. "That's easy for you to say. You're the Hero."

"I never asked for it. But I've had to make do with what life gave me. There are a lot of good people in this world, Daren. Good people that don't need more Calamity Ganon. Good people that have nothing to do with our war. I can't let them all suffer just because I don't know who I am. But I know who you are, and I know what you can become." Link stepped back, put the Master Sword in its sheath, then held out his left hand.

Daren closed his eyes for a moment, as if in rejection of Link's hand. Then he looked at Link again, took the proffered arm with his own, and Link hoisted him up. "Go, then," he said with a sniffle. "I can't stop you, but I won't say I didn't try."

Link gave Daren a small nod and patted his good shoulder as he walked past. He shuffled along, weary from the fight and still in pain over the gash over his stomach. When he was thirty feet ahead of Daren, the Yiga called to him.

"I take back what I said earlier."

Link slowly turned around in acknowledgement.

"I think we could have been friends. In another life," Daren said, holding up a fist in comradery.

"In another life," Link agreed and returned the gesture. He turned back again toward the castle gate and proceeded along the path.


The blood-red moon lit the way. It wasn't long before Link finally approached the last gate, about to enter the palace proper. The top of the tower comprised the inner sanctum and the throne room, something he knew he should have memories of, but they weren't coming to him now. He would need to find another alcove for shelter.

Luckily, the end of the path was a bridge, and there were many places between stones he could perch and try to rest. Toward the final entrance, he found a spot of stone he could huddle underneath, away from the malicious light of the dark red moon. He couldn't help but feel like it was an omen, evidence that danger was approaching, that he was entering something through which pain and heartache were the toll.

Link rested there for a few hours, getting some valuable shut-eye after attempting to wrap his wound with a scrap of his sleeve. He didn't intend to slice open his only shirt, but well, it was already sliced through at his stomach, requiring mending in the first place.

It was the middle of the night now. The blood moon had mostly turned back to its normal white coloring. Link looked to the east and found no hint of sunrise. He could wait, eat a bit, then sleep some more until morning. But he had this nagging feeling that wouldn't go away. He had to get to the princess, and soon.

Sighing, he ate some fruit and bread from his pack. His pot lid and the Master Sword were secure on his back, his trousers were fastened, and his shirt was torn but still there. He entered the inner sanctum, noticing it was as bare as it was large. The floor had fallen seemingly endless stories, and as he peeked down the space that used to be the floor, he saw only darkness. And at the very bottom, red. Swirling red, like it was waiting for Link to find it, curling here and there, upwards and swaying, a whisper of the wind. Link looked up again, across the chasm, and saw a faint light on the ground. He rounded the room and approached it, knowing exactly what it was.

He reached out and touched the glow, and a flash of white entered his mind, taking him through another memory.

Princess Zelda stood in front of him, eyeing down the chasm, just as Link had minutes before. Her yellow hair was down, and she was wearing a white sleeveless prayer dress. She looked tired, wearied like she'd been on a long walk and could go no further. Then she lifted her head and looked at him.

She could see him.

This was no memory.

This was real.

"You're here," she said softly, as if she were afraid she'd startle him and he would bolt. "I've been waiting a long time, Link."