As a reminder, you can find MORE of this on my SubStar (dot adult slash KajaWilder), it's posted up past chapter 50 there... And if you guys haven't seen an update in at least a week, please let me know! I have a busy life, and I get distracted and forget things. This story (and PTaL) are supposed to be updated WEEKLY from now until they're both caught up with each other (like I was doing with FwB until this weekend).
And if you're just interested in discussing things with other readers, of course, you can go to my DISCORD here: h- t_ t_ p-s -: -/ -/ -discord . g-g / N9yDA8t6Cw (taking out hyphens, underscores, and spaces of course).
Chap. 28:
Are you a Man or a Moblin?
The man did indeed freeze, going very, very still. Not for long, though. Slowly, his scraggly face turned in her direction. His eyes swept the foliage for a moment before settling on her position, as if he were more concerned for hidden threats.
If she had a companion, that would have been a viable option for Zelda, serving as a distraction for another ambusher. As it was, she was alone with this man, this dangerous man. His skin was swarthy, but bronzed from much time in the sun, with some small wrinkles around his eyes but many more scars along the left side of his jaw, below his right eye, and along the heavily muscled arms. One of those twitched toward a nearby weapon, but fell still when Zelda drew her own reinforced Bokoblin bow back to its full arc. "I said don't move. Stay perfectly still, or I loose. And I do not miss."
The man snorted, then pointedly looked back toward the tunnel where the larger group had gone. No doubt, she thought, he was considering whether it would be worth calling for help. "You no shoot me. You wonder about me. Calamity say it, say to all Chiefs. 'No kill Gold-Hair Lady'. No kill sneaky blue-boom lady. Bring to Calamity, instead."
Zelda hissed. It was strange hearing the guttural, accented speech from a human mouth, especially one who talked like a blue Bokoblin. But hearing him essentially repeat the same words she had been told by one of the same creatures was extremely off-putting, not least of which because it meant he knew who she was. "You'll find that I will not meet the Calamity willingly."
"Not care," man said with a laugh and a shrug, standing tall and facing her directly, seemingly unconcerned about the bow she had drawn on him. "You still not shoot. You hesitate. You weak."
"I am not weak," Zelda protested with a growl.
Again, the man only laughed, softer now, before speaking a little more clearly, and with less of the methods a Bokoblin might, "You are weak. Weak human. Weak girl. Weak princess. Weak warrior."
"I've slain dozens of Bokoblins, and a few Moblins already, and I-"
"You kill nothing. Blood Moon still rise," the man actually chortled out loud, and for a moment Zelda feared that sound alone would bring others back. But she did not fire, either, despite the black hair swaying as he roared his amusement to the sky. "Blood Moon still rise, and so we all live. I die nine times. I still live. Even if you kill me, I live."
It was a bone-chilling realization. She already knew, of course, that the Blood Moon did indeed resurrect all of the monsters she or others had slain. Monsters like Bokoblins, Moblins.
But humans, too?
"Is that why you serve... it? The Calamity? Because he makes you immortal?" She had to think there was a reason. Immortality would be a convincing gift for some, even if she thought herself wise enough- memories or not- to know better.
"No, that just a side thing," the man chuckled, and she watched as his muscles bulged when he leaned toward her and flexed. His shoulders actually rippled, gaining an inch or more in mass, which rippled in a wave down his arms to show taut blood vessels. When he spoke again, the voice was deeper, more guttural. "I serve to evolve."
The word was strange coming from the man's mouth, when she had seen barely any sign he was above a Bokoblin in ability to speak or think. It also took her a moment to remember what it meant. "I am stronger, now. Soon, I be better. Soon... after you serve me, you serve Calamity. Then I strongest!"
"I'll kill you first," she whispered, her fingers tightening on the string.
Another laugh, loud and deep, but also coarser and rougher, as the man's eyes, seeming so small on his torso even though he hadn't gained that much mass, turned brilliant orange, then blue. "You no kill... you weak. You think you can save me. I am saved! You think I human! You think I special! You afraid! You afraid to shoot me! You gonna serve, I gonna ravage and take, and take, and then take you to Calamity and he do same! He make Hero watch! Then he-"
She did not know how it happened.
Zelda could not remember loosing.
All she knew was that one moment the bulging, muscular, primal human-whatever-thing was speaking, and the next a shaft with familiar fletching sprouted from the center of his throat. "I said not to move," she whispered, almost aghast at what she had done.
She had just shot a human, after all.
Did that make her a murderer?
The laughter died, choked off by blood.
By she did not see the body fall. Instead, with her arrow still coming from his neck, the now-huge man looked down at her. "You not as weak-" there was a cough with blood, "- as I think. You still too w- weak. I kill, I ravage, I take, and then I get stronger!"
He charged, running at her like an unarmed Bokoblin would, with his arms wide to catch her if she moved to either side. He was fast- too fast.
She jumped to the side and back, but Zelda did not have time to grab for another arrow, not even one of her close-range weapons, before his meaty fist closed on the scarf around her neck and shoulders. He hauled her into the air, and she vomited, gasping and coughing up blood himself a moment after his huge fist smashed into her torso.
Fortunately, he let go, and some of the momentum transferred into throwing her bodily for a half-dozen feet into the bushes and trees she had hidden within a minute before. Otherwise, as her mind reeled from the impact, from pain, from spinning heel over head and crashing into a thorny bush, the princess was certain he would have broken several ribs. As it was her wounds were lesser, but multiplied.
She could live with bruises and scratches, though, even if it hurt to breathe.
As quickly as she could, Zelda fought to her feet and pulled one leaf out of her bangs so it would not impede her vision. Her bow was lost somewhere in the tangle, but that was alright. He was running at her already, but she had a bit more time.
He was moving through thick undergrowth, tearing and pawing at it, uprooting whole bushes, but he was still a half-dozen feet away.
Closer than he had been before, but this was not an open clearing.
Despite the pain, Zelda felt her head clear as certainty of one fact came into being: If she did not kill him, this man would rape and kill her.
Adrenaline coursed through her. It would not be enough, not by itself, but she was not the helpless woman she had been on the Plateau. Even then, she had defeated Bokoblins with literal sticks, fresh from the tree.
Zelda would hardly call herself a capable, sure warrior. She was not a soldier. But she was also no stranger to combat, and even though it still terrified her, she had not frozen from fear in... well, weeks at least.
"You think I'm weak because I wouldn't kill? If you weren't... whatever you are, you'd already be dead. It seems I'll just have to work a little harder."
The man did not answer. Instead, she saw his face elongate and twist, growing not into a wolf as she had first imagined with the ripping, tearing skin, but a pig-like snout. A long horn grew from the tip of his nose, as his limbs simply grew. Longer, wiry, corded with muscle, the legs and arms both doubled in length, while his torso grew another foot or two. Great, floppy ears- not as proportionately as large as a Bokoblins, but bigger than any human's- sprouted from either side of his swarthy skin as it, too, changed.
Changed from a deep red-tan to actual red, and then a darker, almost navy blue. The red paint became almost tattooed stripes of white-gray, and the man snorted. "Calamity make me stronger. Calamity make me Moblin! It good to be Chief!"
Zelda's eyes had widened in horror as he paused to transform, but when the once-human stepped forward on blue Moblin legs, it was around the first weapon she could reach.
Unfortunately, that weapon was a simple club of thick wood, a simple Bokoblin's weapon, the one thing she had picked up from what she now suspected was this camp's hunting party. She didn't have time to draw another though, because the Moblin's long reach was already closing in on her. As a human, his punch had thrown her several feet. As a Moblin, she did not think she would survive, Goddess-granted vitality or not.
Thankfully, her quick-draw shield was on her arm a moment before the beast's claws raked across her, leaving a trio of furrows in the bone-reinforced bark and sending Zelda staggering back into the bushes she had just climbed from.
This time she kept her feet though, and while the Moblin stumbled past, still trying to get used to its new size, she dashed forward past it, and spun mid-jump. The club hurtled downward, smashing against the side and back of its left knee as she went.
With a shriek, the Moblin fell, but Zelda did not wait to see it. Instead, she rushed for the center of the camp, her brilliant, emerald eyes dashing here and there for some sort of help.
A single Moblin might be something she could take on, even in a straight fight if necessary. But if the scale in strength between red and blue Bokoblins held true, she had the distinct feeling that in the same straight fight with a blue Moblin, she was a dead woman.
Or worse.
There wasn't much. A couple of unused clubs, another shield, no better and no worse than what she already used. She had better equipment, yes, but would she have time to draw it...? The haunch of some animal, a deer she thought given the venison smell, sat dripping fat onto the larger of the three fires, and a couple of broken-open crates and barrels formed a loose pile.
It seemed like their better weapons had gone with the ones that the leader had sent out. His mistake, she thought, but then again, if he was capable of turning into a monster himself...
How had he done it?
Had it been him at all, or some other power, some factor she did not consider?
Zelda didn't know, and as much as she truly wanted to understand, she didn't have time to think about it. A single locked chest- magically locked, of course- sat on a nearby watch tower, but the only things she could see of use were the crates themselves.
Their contents had been rifled, but the tower and crates would provide some cover, at least.
"Come get me, if you want me that badly," Zelda shouted at the beast, who was just regaining its feet.
The Moblin snorted at her, lowering his tusked nose and rumbled through a lisp and the accent both, "Oh, I will. You not catch me like that again. Chief Bruggu too smart for that."
While he spoke, Zelda tapped two buttons on the Sheikah Slate, and as he started charging again, a little slower and more cautiously this time, she tapped two more.
He would be able to reach straight over the crates- but he could not see through them.
Nor could he see what she had done to the devices.
Stasis had locked the sturdier, metal-bound crate in time. Two bombs, one of each type, had fallen at her feet, the only sign a faint blue glow beneath the princess' chin and breast.
Her finger was not gripping the shield as the Moblin came within its impressive arm's reach, but on the Magnesis rune and both bomb detonation triggers.
She leaned back just in time, his wide swipe catching close enough to pull several long strands from her molten-gold mane, but Zelda did not so much as wince. She was too intent on her plan, too close to dying to care about a miniscule bit of pain like that. Especially compared to what she already felt.
Close enough, she decided, and then turned and ran. Not far, just outside of the blast radius, before she turned, skidding in the forest loam as the Moblin glared. "Why you run? I think you say come get you."
"Not running- strategic movement," she replied grimly. "You've never heard of a trap?"
"What trap? You no have time-"
The words were cut off by the bombs detonating a split second before Stasis wore off. There wasn't a lot of force directed at the crate, the bombs weren't powerful enough to destroy steel, after all. But they were enough to move it at a catastrophic speed when three or four seconds' worth of applied force from each bomb was applied in the barest span of a a fraction of a moment.
It was just physics, really.
The crate shot forward with blinding speed, sheering one of the Moblin's legs cleanly off just above the knee. The other lost two toes and half the foot, and the great beast fell to the ground sideways, roaring out in agony and shock.
Zelda barely registered the crate wrapping itself around a nearby oak, sending both splintering into shards of twisted, red-hot metal and wood.
She was far too focused on the Moblin, whose bloodshot eyes were still glaring at her with unbridled fury. It took another swipe, though she was a score of feet away. "I kill! I kill!"
"You die," she shot back, just as focused and grim as before. The club came up high over her head, and she hurled it forward, spinning end over end. Somehow, despite not exactly being skilled or practiced at the maneuver, the heavy end struck the creature in the back, and it writhed for a moment, face down in the dirt, sending a spray of leaves wtih its snout as blood gushed from the stump of its leg and mangled foot.
That still wasn't enough to kill the beast, but it had armed it. With her own stolen club, the Moblin levered itself to its waist on the less-injured leg, and threw the chunk of wood straight back at her. She ducked and spun, but it wasn't quite enough, the haft clipped her injured shoulder. Zelda cried out in pain, but somehow kept her focus. She was battered, bruised, but alive. Less wounded comparatively than the Moblin was, anyway.
In a job, Zelda hurried around the Moblin as it reached for the least damaged of the boxes, most of which had been shredded in the dual bomb blast, and started hurling chunks of wood at her in desperation. She ducked under one, leaped over another, batted a third aside with her damaged shield, which just held. Then she was there, the last club's grip firmly in hand.
This time, she did close, running at a full tilt, sprinting as fast as her legs would carry her.
The Moblin-chief laughed again despite its own pain, and opened its arms to receive her.
But Zelda did not charge straight at it, not really. The initial movement had been a sort of feint. Instead, like an acrobat, she used her Goddess-blessed strength to jump upward into the air, spinning and whirling in a cartwheel at a dead run.
A reverse cartwheel. The spin of her body only added to the momentum of her dash forward, and the club crashed into the Moblin's long snout like a cannonball. Sinew, cartilage, and bone melded into a mush of motion and wood splinters as the fresh club shattered under the blow too.
It gave way, snapping at the hilt as Zelda came upright again, her follow-through scraping up through one of the Moblins' eye sockets.
Its face was already ruined, though, and when Zelda landed, the mutilated body was vanishing into smoke and purple sparkles.
She panted, and gasped, her chest heaving. She ached.
She burned.
She had never felt so alive.
It took her twenty minutes to hunt down the rest, dragging their pitiful weapons back to camp and burning the lot.
The other red-painted human did not get a chance to transform, if that is what the ritualistic markings did. He was, in fact, the next to die.
So much for hesitating to kill another human, the princess mused quietly to herself as she let the weapons and armor burn. At least this time, if they came back as they were, the beasts would be unarmed. Hopefully it would make them less dangerous, at least for a while.
Of all their treasures, all the group had gathered from who knew how many caravans and slain travelers, Zelda gathered very little. A small partial handful, just four Fire Arrows, three regular arrows from one of the scouts, a handful of Rupees the human scout had carried, and apples, most of which came from a nearby tree.
At least the half-dozen Luminous Ore she had gathered from the cave after dispatching that group was valuable.
Under cover of night, several aching hours later, Zelda discovered another small cave nearby that held a small vein of Luminous Ore, too. The shining mineral had largely been high on the ceiling of the natural structure, but a precious Bomb Arrow had loosened enough of it that Zelda felt it was worth the cost. After all, what was the point of hoarding them, really? She still had over a dozen, and more than fifty of the Fire arrows now, including the ones she herself might have made a century ago.
Another Moblin, this one sleeping, had died with its throat cut twenty minutes later. And for the next seven hours, until the sun had risen once more, Zelda pushed her bruised body onward, exploring the mountainside.
It was riddled with caves and caverns and even short tunnels, many of which netted her more ore of various types, from long-buried amber, to flint, rock salt, more of the strange, glowing ore, and a couple of opals. A couple of Koroks imparted seeds to her as well, but Zelda was happiest about a small chest full of Rupees she had found stashed in some abandoned mine, and the six dead Moblins and one blue Bokoblin she had killed on the slopes that night.
She was less pleased that a Blood Moon had risen, bringing half of them back, and forcing the princess to backtrack and kill them again.
Even the large camp, which did indeed contain a very familiar blue Moblin, vanished in a hail of explosive, burning arrows.
Zelda, frankly, was tired of hoarding her resources when she could destroy the enemy that much faster by expending them a little judiciously.
She rested for a few hours after returning to new territory when she came across an old ruin of crumbling walls, likely a small outpost garrison given the worn, mouldering remains of uniforms and military weaponry and armor laying around.
There wasn't much she salvaged, because the four intact shields were all-but mildewed through wood in rusted rings, but she did find one standard, peasant's bow and a soldier's bill-spear that she added to her collection, which had diminished in size and value as she destroyed one Moblin after another over the course of the night.
But she had learned something, too.
The Blood Moon might have returned the human as a blue Moblin, and he clearly remembered her as he shrieked in agony while he burned.
It had not returned the weapons, shields, armor, and supplies she had tossed into the fire.
So she was, in fact, weakening the enemy, at least a little.
A short way beyond that, far safer, was a fish-filled pond shaded by a large tree. It was beneath its branches, her belly full of roasted Hearty Bass, that Zelda finally allowed herself to sleep.
