Gods of Shadow (T)

Chapter VII
DIPLOMATIC DISCOMFORT

Link’s heart sank. It was as if he was watching anew as all of Hyrule shriveled under the desecrating power of Tempus, the God of Decay. Some part of him had grown sure that the real Zelda and Malon and Afton were all safe, somewhere, drifting in an eddy of time. But now…

“The Cataclysm?” Link heard himself think aloud.

“The Cataclysm is what awaits a stream of time when it is on the brink of annihilation. It is an event that cannot be avoided, but can be postponed. And you know, Link, who must save the land on Cataclysm Eve if that is to happen.”

“Me…” he thought forlornly. He had failed them all. It was his fault they had died.

Orda nodded. “You did not succeed in saving that stream from the Cataclysm. But in point of fact, you could not. You are worthy of the title, Link. But you simply were not old enough to bear the weight of the Hero of Time’s true responsibilities. It is not a child’s calling.”

Link rose up his wolf’s head and bayed defiantly. “But you said I would be born as a hero in the other stream and beat Ganon as a kid…! What do you mean I couldn’t save Hyrule!?”

“Not all heroes must be adults, Link. But as for the Hero of Time…”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Link interrupted. Orda’s eyes widened, but she did not speak. “The Sages killed Sophia, didn’t they? Didn’t they!? That’s why Anju came back without the mask on. They can save Hyrule, too, not just me! They’re not even supposed to save Hyrule. If they can beat Sophia, I can beat Tempus!”

Finally, Orda could not stay silent any longer. “Do not question the voice of the Gods, mortal!” Orda’s arms flew to either side and her mantle shone with renewed and unbearable brilliance. Link remembered quickly what weight her glory brought on him. “I tire of your insufferable impenitence. Be silent and hear me!”

Fear shot through Link’s lupine frame, but it was quickly mastered. He was not one to shrink in the face of anything, even if it was one of the Goddesses. Nevertheless, he knew Orda was powerful and must be obeyed. He was quiet.

“Now,” began the Goddess, lowering her arms. She adjusted her coverlet and spoke again, calmly. “Know, Young Hero, that you have not always been as you are now. In this Land of Gold, where all things have always been, you have come to me many times for guidance and direction and I have freely given it to you. But just now something is amiss. You are not yourself. I fear you will have a challenging road ahead of you, the likes of which you have not yet encountered in your mortal quests, though I cannot tell what it might bear.”

“But I thought you knew—”

“I see time’s courses as if they were one, it is true. But not even I can say what events will follow if those courses are purposefully altered. I can say that you must be mindful of who you are, lest your very self be lost to corruption.” Link might have said something, but she held up an elegant hand. “I will say no more on the matter; you must listen to me now. I will tell you what I can and then I must give you your charge. Do you understand?”

Link nodded. There was nothing to be done but hear her.

“As for the defeat of Sophia, you are correct; the Six Sages of Hyrule surely did what was never expected of them. But they also acted in concert as the representatives of the Goddesses of Hyrule. Six of them were able to vanquish one of the two great threats to the land. None of them could have done it alone, nor could you. As for the other, the so-called God of Decay…” Pause. “I have somewhat to tell you of him which… It is complex. I pray you will forgive me if I postpone that dialogue for a time.”

Link looked on the Goddess with curiosity. For the first time she looked uncertain, frightened, perhaps. Link did not press the issue, but nodded. Orda looked visibly relieved at this. She might have stood a little straighter and then continued speaking as if she had never left off.

* * *

“How might his Majesty’s chief mage serve him?” asked an aged wizard in his aged squeaky voice, twisting his staff in his hands nervously. The staff was carved with the head of a long-beaked bird with a swirling feathered crest atop it. “I see you’ve redecorated,” said the wizard conversationally, eyeing the remains of a fallen column in the corner of the Great Hall of Hyrule Castle. “Did you want me to help you clean up?” He shot nervous glance behind him; looming beside Impa, the Sage of Shadow, was Kaepora Gaebora, the monstrous owl. Kaepora clicked his beak mischievously.

“No,” said the king shortly. “Ezlo, have you seen anything suspicious of late?” the king asked.

“Besides the presence of an enormous owl in the Great Hall, your Majesty?” Presently the wizard leaned closer to his staff as if it were speaking in his long ear. “His Majesty will please pardon his servant’s ignorance; Quill has just made me aware that his Majesty meant other than the Great Owl…”

“Yes, Ezlo; have you noticed anything about the skies?” asked the king, eyeing the bird-headed staff with skepticism.

“His Majesty may perhaps be referring to the meteor which is currently nearing Hyrule in its celestial path?”

The king glanced at Kaepora before proceeding. The owl remained unruffled. “Will this meteor adversely affect Hyrule in any way?”

Ezlo leaned toward his staff again, listening intently. “We are not certain, your Majesty; we would not predict any…great misfortune…”

“What do you mean ‘great misfortune’? Is the meteor going to affect Hyrule or isn’t it?” the king snapped.

Ezlo bowed. “A thousand pardons, your Majesty…”

“Just answer the question, man!”

The mousy wizard jumped, nearly losing his grip on his staff. “Yes, M-Majesty, the m-meteor will cause an untoward amount of m-magnetic activity as it passes our fair planet… The meteor seems to be composed of a dense mineral-rich iron alloy similar to the composition of the one that struck the eastern mountain range many centuries ago. It seems the two may have originated from the same dead star. The two are attracting one another in such a way as to produce a more intense magnetic field, thus increasing the magnetic activity on a local scale.” Ezlo leaned closer to his staff again. “At least, that is what our instruments suggest, your Majesty.”

“Explain ‘untoward magnetic activity,’ Master Wizard,” said the king tersely. “And stop consulting with that blasted branch! You know it’s not alive!”

Ezlo clapped his hands over both sides of the carved bird’s head. “But your Majesty!” His thin lip trembled. The king raised his eyebrows in moderate tolerance. “Oh, very well. But it’s not my fault if Quill will never forgive you: compasses may not read correctly, deposits of metal may shift upward within the terrestrial strata, magnets will generally be more powerful…”

The king considered this innocuous account. “Nothing else?”

Ezlo glanced at the pile of rubble behind him again. “Were you hoping for more devastation?”

The king eyed the wizard surreptitiously. “Is there any danger of the meteor striking Hyrule?” he asked.

“Oh, no, Majesty! Not according to our calculations,” said Ezlo, bowing. He caught the king’s stern gaze. “My calculations, that is,” he corrected himself. “The star’s course comes very close to Hyrule, but it will only pass us by more quickly due to the intensified magnetic field. It will reach negative declination by sundown.”

The king reclined, exhaling a long sigh. “Very well. You may continue watching the skies, or whatever it is you do up in that tower I just refurbished for you.”

“Your Majesty is most gracious; we thank his esteemed…”

“Now!” the king barked. Ezlo jumped and then backed away quickly in a wide circle, being careful never to turn his back on the Great Owl commanding the Great Hall’s interior. Kaepora watched him go, twisting his head in a half circle until he disappeared through the main door.

“Master Kaepora,” said the king once the wizard had exited. The owl turned his head around again, clicking his beak loudly. “Was this the news you desired that I should hear?”

“The universe is a great mechanism of cause and effect, your Majesty. I could not see what would come of your interaction with the wizard, only that it should happen. What follows is your path through the heavens, not mine.” The owl inclined its huge body again and then lifted its large feet, its enormous talons clacking on the marble floor as it turned around. It unfurled its wings, nearly filling the Great Hall with their span. With a few preliminary hops and a stiff burst of air it leaped through the Great Hall’s main entrance and flew away, hooting in its melancholy baritone.

When the owl was gone the king sighed. “That owl is perhaps more cryptic than Mudora himself, wouldn’t you say, Impa? The resemblance is uncanny.”

But the Sage of Shadow had somehow gone missing as well.

* * *

For the second time in one day, the Mask Salesman’s curtains were thrown open rudely.

“Blast it! Will you get on already? I don’t want any housekeeping this early!” Worlu sat up and looked around, but he saw no one in the room.

“It’s nearly noon, you know,” said a mysterious disembodied voice.

The gaunt brown-skinned man jumped, to be sure, but he seemed to remember what he was dealing with. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want this time?”

“There is a man waiting for you in the hall,” said the voice calmly.

“What does he want?” said the Salesman, choosing a corner of the room to stare at as he had nothing else to focus on.

“I need you to exorcise him.”

“Oh, is that all? Well, consider it done, then. I’m going back to bed.” And he threw the covers over his head.

“Now, Worlu.” A hand suddenly appeared from nowhere and flung the bedcovers to the floor. The hand was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “I need him to do something for me.”

Worlu shivered in place, refusing to move. “Can’t you ever do your own dirty work? How many times have you seen me since I came back from Termina? Two? Three?”

“Six, actually.”

“Well I guess I wouldn’t remember, would I?” There was a long pause. “You’re still there aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Worlu sighed, accepting that the voice would not leave him be until he complied with its demands. “Alright, alright. At least let me put my face on.”

Out in the hallway, Worlu shut his door and adjusted his oversized pack on his back. He slicked back his greasy red hair and grinned widely, weighing the key to his room in one hand. “I don’t guess I’ll need this anymore.” He dropped it unceremoniously into the mouth of a standing suit of armor in the hall; it clanked loudly.

“You didn’t like your accommodations?” said the floating voice.

“Service was terrible. Unsolicited wake-up calls. You’d know about that.” Turning, the Salesman saw the object of his assignment; a man wearing a ragged, padded undershirt and simple breeches standing perfectly still, mid-stride. Ostensibly, Arinco had not moved from the moment Felso cursed him. On his face was a look of intense fervor.

“Geez, what was he into before,” Worlu asked the air, “some kinda odd potion?”

“A small scuffle,” said the disembodied voice behind him, noncommittally. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

“I wonder…” mumbled the greasy haired man to himself. He stared at Arinco intently, noting every line in his face, every contour, as an interested patron might study a sculpture he was about to purchase. “He’ll make a good one. Alright, then, let’s get him fixed up.”

In a minute or two Worlu had situated himself on the ground and began humming and waving his arms mystically. The procedure was well under way when Nabooru appeared from behind her door and then halted suddenly. The greasy-haired man noticed her watching him and stopped chanting.

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you…” he sneered.

Nabooru said nothing, but turned and walked the opposite direction. She checked herself, however, turning to the Salesman. It appeared that she might have wished to say something, but didn’t know quite how to proceed.

“I don’t know why I’m on the floor either, if you’d like to know. Just doing as I’m told. I hear it’s good for the complexion.” He smiled his wide unnerving smile.

Nabooru did not respond to his sarcasm. Instead, she leaned against the wall as if she had only just stepped out of her room. “I’m returning my key to the groundskeeper. Shall I take yours with me?”

“Better yet, keep it for yourself. I dropped it in the armor, there, but if you can get it out it’s yours.”

Nabooru restrained a snide comment. “What would I want your key for?”

“To get into my room. I left the Stone Mask there, just in case you changed your mind. I didn’t know if I would see you before I left. I was planning on leaving you a note, but now I don’t have to so… Well, there you have it.”

Nabooru glanced at the armor as if she could see the key inside it, somewhere, but quickly looked away. “I don’t want it. You’re wrong about Raean.” And she turned and left.

“Woman troubles? At your age?” said the voice after Nabooru had gone.

“Hey, I might look old, but I’m still sprightly as they come,” said the Salesman to no one in particular.

“Honestly, if I had an endless inventory of masks at my disposal I wouldn’t go around wearing that face all day. Yet somehow you pull it off. Really, Worlu, you are quite the lady-killer.”

The Salesman’s face straightened, fighting against his permanent smile. “That’s not funny.”

The voice was silent. “Oh, Worlu, I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

The Mask Salesman continued where he left off and in another minute the ritual was finished. Worlu clapped his hands over his head, there was a flash of light and something wooden clattered to the marble floor at Worlu’s knees. Arinco collapsed to the ground; unconscious, but breathing steadily.

“Usual payment?” said the Salesman brusquely.

“Yes, you can keep the mask,” the voice responded. “So long as you keep your oath.”

“You worry too much, old man,” said Worlu with a wry smile. “I’ll keep my end of the bargain.” He scooped up the wooden object that had fallen to the floor and tucked it away in his bag before turning and walking the way Nabooru had gone.

“Listen, Worlu—”

Worlu did not turn, but wagged a finger in the air. “Keep it strictly business. You know more than most, but that doesn’t mean you know everything.”

“You don’t want your Stone Mask, then?” said the voice tentatively. “Nabooru didn’t seem interested in your offer.”

The Mask Salesman just smiled. “I never offer what I don’t expect to sell, Stranger.” Worlu’s eyes flickered over the suit of armor. “She’ll be back.”

* * *

“So…”

“So…”

Link shifted his feet; even the squeaking of the soles was awkward. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Malon, though he was certain she was staring at him. His cheeks burned, his arms felt like dead rubber. There was no explanation for why his brain could not think of something for him to say. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway; his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth.

“D’you like yer bedsheets?” said Malon, clearly making onversation.

“Yeah,” he heard himself say. “They really brighten up the room, don’t they…?” Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid...

“Oh,” said Malon dejectedly. “ ’Cause I don’t.”

Link’s eyes snapped to Malon’s face. “You don’t?” Everything was hanging on her response; everything. Please let her say it, oh, please Goddesses, let her say it…!

“They’s kinda girly…”

Link’s muscles all released their tension at the same moment. “I know!”

Malon smiled and her dimples returned. “Yeah. Now, mind, I’d fancy a nice gingham, or somethin’ like that, but flowers’re meant t’stay in the ground. They’s more purdy that way.”

“I know!” he said again, and meant every word.

“I jes’ thought that since Zelly always has fancy flowers around the castle that you might like some, too, but…”

“She made you pick them, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s Zel, for you.”

“Now, me, I think a good plant is a live one,” said Link, sticking a thumb to his chest. Malon giggled. Neither of them knew why, but it only seemed right.

“So, um… Do you want to sit down or something?” Link offered his bed. Malon, half-shrugged, half-nodded and ended up sitting on the edge of the mattress daintily. “Oh, come on, just sit, already. I bet Zelda told you ladies have to, like, pose or something when they sit, right?”

“Y’all really don’t mind?”

Link scoffed. “Nope. Shoot, I tried to home the place up a bit, but she kept putting my towel places and straightening my sandals—heck, she even threw up a curtain over the window. I mean, how can you see the sky outside with a stupid curtain in your way?”

Malon sighed in relief. “It is kinda dark…” She said, hauling herself up to sit squarely on the bed.

“Well, who’re we kidding?” And Link jumped up on his bed and took down the curtain rod Zelda had put there, silly curtain and all. The mattress lurched under his weight, throwing Malon off balance.

“Hey!” she called out, “watch what yer doin there, mister, y’almos’ knocked me clean over!”

“What, you mean like this?” said Link, and he sprang up, pushing into his mattress with his feet. Malon nearly toppled into him, but grabbed the footboard just in time.

“Alright, you, yer gonna get it!” And Malon grabbed the pillow and stood up on the bed beside Link. Link pressed into the bed again, just before she was all the way up, and she nearly fell for the third time. But Malon would not be daunted, and smacked Link full in the face with his own pillow. As if on the cue of an unheard signal, the war was on. Malon swung and Link parried with the curtain rod; Link jumped and tried to trip Malon, but to no avail. Finally, Malon saw an opening and whump! Link was disarmed and defenseless, the curtain rod on the floor and Link staring a pillow in the face.

“Gotcha,” said Malon.

“Whatever, you won’t do—” Whump! And the pillow burst open, scattering chicken feathers into the sun-speckled air. Link slumped to the bed, dazed.

“Beat that, pardner,” said Malon, standing over him.

“Ow,” said Link, rubbing his cheek.

Malon’s face straightened. “Oh, I’m real sorry, Link, I didn’t mean t’—”

“Gotcha.” And he pulled her foot from under her, planting her abruptly on the bed next to him.

Malon scowled and exhaled, narrow-eyed. “If you weren’t the captain o’ all Hyrule I’d whoop you black ‘n’ blue right here.” She looked as if she might do so anyway, but then she burst out laughing. “You sure got me good, huh?”

Link could hardly believe it; Malon hadn’t punched him, and now she was laughing. A certain camaraderie crept over Link and he felt as if he and Malon fit somehow, like adjacent pieces of an unfinished puzzle. She wasn’t arrogant or demanding like Ruto, and she didn’t have all these ideas about what ought to be done like Zelda. He could play with her the way he did with Saria, but she was his kind; a real Hylian girl. Unexpectedly, he remembered what she was like seven years in the future, and what it was like to be older, and suddenly had a longing for time to speed up…

“Hey, Link! Aliens got a hold o’ you? Hello?” Malon waved a hand in his face.

Link snapped to attention. “Wait, what? Did…did you say aliens?”

Malon shrugged. “Yeah, like ghosts from other places comin’ t’steal yer cows!” She threw her hands out like alien hands, clawing at his clothes. But Link didn’t focus on this; now other memories returned to him. Not of another time, but another place. “Wait. I haven’t told you about Termina, have I?” he asked, forgetful of the fact that he had only confessed the existence of such a place to Afton, and only yesterday, at that—besides the Sages, of course.

“Termina,” Malon said, testing the word to see if it was familiar. “Cain’t say so. Why?”

“Well, there was this girl there, Romani, and she sort of reminds me of you. She was really good with a bow and she had red hair, and she was real…pretty…” Malon, smiled and blushed. What Link did not say was that Romani was Malon’s Terminan double. “One night these aliens came and attacked her ranch. I helped her defend her cows…a couple times, at least,” he added modestly.

“Aw, shucks, any girl’d be glad of a big, strong hero like you t’help her defend her cows.”

“Yeah, I’m good at that, I guess. There was a whole bunch of stuff about Termina that reminds me of Hyrule, actually…” Then Link suddenly got an idea. “Hey, I know! Wait right there; you’ve got to see these!”

Malon obeyed, watching Link as he crossed the room and pulled a sack out from under the table where Nikita the octorok squealed in offense; she had apparently been sleeping. Link rummaged in the bag until he found what he was looking for; a shimmering blue mask bearing the resemblance of a Zora male. Link handed it to the ranch-girl excitedly.

“Look, see? This is a mask of this Zora guitarist named Mikau. He was really good, and he played in some performances out in Termina…” Malon gazed on the mask in amazement. “Until he died, that is…”

“Oh, what happened?” she asked morosely.

“Well, see, his…girl Zora…or whatever, LuLu, was sad, right, and she wouldn’t ever talk because somebody had stolen her eggs and she couldn’t find them. So Mikau goes out into the ocean at his own peril and sneaks into this pirate fortress, right, ‘cause they stole some of her eggs. But then he had to go out into the deep ocean and fight these vicious sea monsters and skeletal fish and stuff until he found the other eggs hidden in the monster’s underwater caves…”

Malon was wide-eyed, listening to every word of Link’s tale of the chivalrous Zora warrior who saved his woman’s eggs and brought them back safely to be hatched. Link did not pause; even, it seemed, to catch his breath. To have Malon’s complete and enthralled attention made him feel better than any potion.

“And then he rides on the back of this turtle all the way to this crazy-big mechanical place where water gets pumped in and out of everywhere until he finally finds this HUGE fish with all these fangs and spikes and things and…”

Link could do this forever, he thought; tell Malon stories of his adventures. She gasped in all the right places, and her eyes widened when he would describe something especially dangerous or daring. Admittedly, he felt some guilt for telling the story as if Mikau had done all these things, but in a way the Zora warrior had done—Link certainly would not have been able to survive underwater and face all his challenges in Termina if it hadn’t been for the Zora’s sacrifice. He convinced himself it was better this way. He would tell the story as if Mikau had done it; give him the credit. After all, Malon was listening to his every word—he could never wish for more glory than that. Not even being Captain of the Royal Guard compared.

“And then Mikau plunged himself into the mouth of Gyorg, the Gargantuan Fish, electrifying the monster from inside its belly! And that’s how Mikau, the Zora bard, saved LuLu’s eggs and made the waters of the Western Sea clear and calm once more!”

Malon clapped whole-heartedly. “Oh, that’s so noble. But so sad too,” she said, sincerely awed at the Zora’s brave sacrifice. “And what happened to LuLu and the Indigo-gos?”

“Oh, LuLu’s voice came back and she and the band played at the Carnival of Time in Clock Town.”

“But who played the guitar for them?” asked Malon.

“Oh, they, um…found a stand-in at the last minute,” Link invented, not entirely untruthfully.

“And all that happened while you were out in Termina?” she asked, amazed.

“Yep,” he said, “but I haven’t told you about Darmani the Third, yet! Darmani was the son of the Goron Elder, and so powerful he could smash great big stone pillars to dust!” He fished in his bag, shuffling around the contents until he found a grayish-brown mask that looked like a tough, battle-scarred Goron with tufts of flossy hair. “It all started when the Goron Village had an untimely snow…”

* * *

“Hey, there, son. Hey, now, wake up, boy…”

Link’s eyes opened to a shining light. As his eyesight resolved he realized that it was two lights… No, not two—but rather one light with something in front of it. A man, or something with the shape of a man, cleaving the brightness. His head felt like it had likewise been split in two…or more, perhaps.

“You’re alright, now, son. Come on, up you get.”

Link felt his body being lifted up from the ground, and then there was the ring of steel on stone as the man who bore him up recovered something from the floor.

“Well, I’ll be, son. You certainly don’t suffer from low aspirations. The bloody Four Sword itself…”

Link’s hand found his tunic, and he wondered at the tear that he found there, especially as there was no wound in his body to justify such a blatant hole.

Soon after, the light enveloped Link and he knew no more.

Finally, when he became aware of himself again, Link heard voices talking to each other. One was low and interspersed with grunts and pensive growls, sounding much like a wolf. The other was high—Link could only think of it as ‘mousy.’

“Leave off that, for a moment; he’s awake…” said the mousy voice. Someone leaned over him. “Are you feeling alright, Master Link? You scared us a bit, you did. All this ruckus and see where it got you? I hope you learned your lesson, my boy, I sincerely hope—”

“Shut up,” the other voice growled. “You’ll give him nightmares with your guilt trips. Give him leave to wake up on his own.”

Link was grateful to the owner of this second voice, and he reminded himself to thank the man if he ever realized who it was. But that moment was not now…

His hands crept around him feebly for something that would tell him where he was before he slipped away again. His fingers fell on the pommel and handle of a familiar sword…one from a dream, it seemed. The next moment he was asleep again, dreaming of the sword, a flash of light, and an echoing boar-like bellow.

* * *

In the center of the coliseum at the height of the Arbiter’s Grounds, a lone man stood, perfectly still. He watched the clear blue of the sky, peering out at the sun-flecked wisps of cloud that still hung in the air. He was dressed in a long flowing robe of velvet blue, and a great golden mantle crested his shoulders, bearing a single red eye embroidered on his chest. The eye bore a single tear; the symbol of the Sheikah. Creases of age gathered around the man’s eyes and the corners of his mouth, yet his body was dense and strong. His head, face and arms were void of any hair whatsoever, and his demeanor was intent and unwavering. High above, a great owl circled, swooped and opened its wings.

“I have delivered your message to the king,” hooted the great owl as it alighted on the rim of the ruined colonnade.

“Thank you Kaepora,” said the man. “Have you spoken to the lieutenant yet?”

“You did not ask me to do that last time…” said the great owl. Kaepora clasped his stone perch and dipped his face to better analyze the expression of his companion. “Is something amiss?”

The man’s gaze did not waver; he studied the sky as if it were a map, searching for a way through the labyrinth of his thoughts. “Things have always been amiss, Kaepora. But they are less dire now. Speak to the lieutenant. Warn him of Death Mountain and the one he can save there.”

“Are you certain that will—”

“Yes. Your flight over the mountain pass should prove fruitful. You haven’t much time.”

The great owl paused. “Before I leave, I must say something.” The man waited. “Over the course of our meetings, your instructions have become increasingly cryptic, my friend,” Kaepora trilled. “You meddle too much, I think…”

The man’s eyes did not deviate from scanning the sky. “It was cloudier before; I believe we are close. Go. I shall find you again.”

And with no more words the owl leapt from his perch and was gone.

* * *

“Our land is in dire peril. Where the hell have you been?”

Nabooru recoiled at the king’s uncharacteristic brusqueness. She folded her arms, her one Silver Guantlet gleaming reproachfully. “I came as soon as you called,” the Gerudo Matron rebutted.

“I sent for you an hour ago!”

“I needed some time to myself. As you can imagine, my people’s fate rests on my shoulders; I came as soon as I had finished…contemplating. But while we discuss my tardiness, I understand the land is in peril?”

“Yes, where is the Mask Keeper? I have a matter to discuss with you which requires both of your realms of experience to understand fully; the result could immediately mean life or death for our people.”

“How should I know? We parted ways this morning. I haven’t seen him since.” Her Gauntlet flashed again, this time with ire.

“Blast you, woman!” bellowed the king, a small vein protruding from his reddening forehead. “Now how shall I know what I must do to protect my kingdom!?”

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty, I bear a message!” gasped a young voice from the high entrance arch.

Nabooru turned in surprise. The king looked past her, likewise perplexed. It was Tobias, clearly worn from jogging hastily up the long spiraling staircases to the Great Hall of the castle.

The king looked on the priest with pity mixed with fervent interest. “Yes, Master Priest? Deliver your message.”

“I know what happened at the Temple of Time,” he said, choking on his own breath. “That is what you wish to know, is it not? And what you must do about it?”

The king paused only another moment. “Nelson, get this man some water and a comfortable chair. Speak, Master Priest. I would know your tale; the fate of the Hylia depends upon it. Nabooru, you are dismissed.”

“Excuse me, King Nohansen!?” the Gerudo matron roared. “I am the leader of my people and the deliverer of your daughter to safety, or have you forgotten after only one cycle of the sun? I am not to be treated with blatant disregard like a common servant.”

“Have you forgotten what your sister did to my Great Hall, hmm?” bellowed the king, standing from his throne. Nabooru gave pause. “Look around you! The floor of this Hall was torn apart by your sister’s axe. One of its columns was dashed to pieces. After that I gave you one of the finest rooms in my castle. You expect me to treat you with deference after you hid my daughter from me, after your people cheated mine, stole from mine, and led away the hearts of my men after vain pleasures? Do you suppose that I shall forgive all and require nothing at your people’s hand? Or do you sincerely think that I would let them all go and set you about your merry way to live your lives as you always have, to follow after your heathenistic ways!?”

Nabooru stepped forward, thrusting a silver finger at the Hylian king. “We have no more ways, thanks to your people and your thrice cursed ‘hero!’ You deprived us of our ways when you murdered our king. And he came to you only seeking to share that power that you hoard like gluttons. He came to you in peace—!”

“He stole my wife from me!!” The vein in the king’s forehead positively throbbed with blood.

Nelson returned with a cushioned seat and a glass of cool water, but Tobias neither sat, nor drank. Instead, he stood by, a mute observer, never daring for a moment to become involved. He could almost not bear it to see the anguish he saw on the faces of these two racial leaders, each having undergone such pain, such personal loss. Yet, he could do nothing to alleviate that pain. The glass of cool water became heavy in his hand and he remained silent, watching the lion and the lioness snarl their prideful mal-intent at the other.

Finally, Nabooru spoke again, quiet, but no less bristling with ferocity. “Then you refuse my request to free my people.”

“Most certainly, I do, Matron of the Gerudo.” The words came off his lips like bitter dregs. “They shall pay for their crimes, and if I had the chance I would drag your sister back to these dungeons and throw her into the deepest cell myself. You are as you were; dismissed from this Hall without permission to return until I am no longer king. Guards!” Nelson and the other soldiers stood to attention, their spears jutting out and up into the air like needles. “Ensure that the Gerudo Matron leaves the grounds without visiting any of the prisoners.”

The soldiers advanced, clearly intent on fulfilling their king’s orders. But Nabooru struck out with a silver fist and cuffed one of them on the cheek. The soldier was thrown through the air like a rag-doll, his spear dashed about like a toothpick. The remaining soldiers stopped where they were, brandishing their weapons, but keeping a safe distance from the metal glove and its wearer.

“I will leave this place, Daphnes Nohansen, despiser of women,” Nabooru hissed, “and I shall never return to it so long as I live. But you will first permit me to engender some hope in the hearts of my sisters or I swear to you by the Goddess who sends the burning winds and the sandstorms in the night that I will slaughter any man who stands in my way. And if I return before the Goddess has turned my body to dust, it will be to visit the burning wind upon the Hylia, who despise they who are not their kind and share not power with the powerless.”

The king said nothing. Not one soldier advanced. Nabooru simply turned and walked through the entrance arch of the Great Hall and disappeared down the steps to the castle’s lower floors, never to be seen in that place again.

* * *

“I bear dire tidings,” said Impa. Gor Darmon, the Goron Sage of Fire, stopped walking. In his hand was one of the magical compasses he had enchanted. Impa had found the Goron Sage in the depths of a tunnel many miles under the crust of Death Mountain. The tunnel was lit by small rivers of glowing red magma that trickled down the tunnel walls. The heat of the magma stifled Impa’s breathing and caused her to perspire terribly, but it was bearable for the moment. Far away, the caves deep within Death Mountain rumbled with the sound of Gorons; all of them searching, mining, gathering, storing.

Gor Darmon looked up from the compass with a weary expression. “There is nothing left,” he said. “We are hopeless. Already the stores are being eaten away too quickly; the rocks are giving us less and we are having to eat more and more…” he said weakly. “Our bellies are full, but we are hungry the moment we have finished eating.” He looked down at the compass again. The spindle wound in uncertain circles. “Have the other sages found anything?”

“No. Lutai has gone to the southern countries, Rauru to the north. Aako has searched to the west and I have been east. Apart from a fertile country ripe for human settlement the enchanted compass showed me nothing. I am certain if the others had found anything they would have contacted us.”

“Then even our magic has failed us. Where is our answer—what can save the Great Goron Tribe?”

Impa took the compass from the Goron. She held it vertically; the spindle steadied itself pointing vaguely upward to one side. “A meteor will pass over this mountain range by sunset. It bears the same mineral qualities that sustain the Goron people. But it will only approach Hyrule; it will not land here. Darmon, if we enhance the magnetic qualities of the ore that lies in this Death Mountain the way you have enchanted these compasses we could pull the star from the sky just enough to force it to land in some desolate place—a far away home, but a home nonetheless…”

Gor Darmon looked at Impa, his wide leathery face displaying every ounce of happiness he could muster through his fatigue. “Yes,” he said, grinning. “Bring our magic together…charge the ore with it… But Impa, how did you discover this?”

“So says Ezlo, Chief Wizard of the Hylia,” Impa replied.

“The Picori fellow?” said Darmon, somewhat surprised. “So he has proved himself useful after all.”

“Yes. But for the present I bear news that may dispossess this knowledge of any lasting importance; I believe the security of the Fused Shadows has been compromised.”

Gor Darmon leaned against the stone wall of the tunnel. Little rivulets of magma drizzled over his stony back and shoulders harmlessly. “And what makes you think that?”

“I cannot remember where they are,” said Impa.

Gor Darmon tilted his head curiously, furrowing his massive brow. The effect evoked the image of a large leather raisin. But Darmon had little time to consider this news further, for at that moment there was a horrible sound of crumbling rock as if an enormous cavern had just released all of its stalagmites at once and they were crashing down somewhere deep within the earth.

“That came from Goron City…” said Darmon.

There was no question; the sages had to reach the Goron City immediately. “Can you travel, Darmon?” asked Impa, raising her white-sage mask to her face. She became the ghostly image of an aged Sheikah male with a prominent widow’s peak; the ancient sage Mudora.

“Yes,” said Gor Darmon raising his own mask to his face. “Whether I live or die after I arrive, I will make it to Goron City. The Gorons shall have their new home.”

And at the speed of thought, two white streaks of light raced through the magma-laced tunnels under Death Mountain.

Another outstanding chapter! I'm running out of compliments for you honestly, you should just be a writer. Great chapter with describing Link's feelings towards Malon and how the sages planned on giving the gorons a new home. And I love Ezlo! I think old wizards are so cute, I have no idea why though

Keep it up!

Chapter VIII
GONE FISHING

“Ganondorf’s evil drew you from your childhood seclusion in the Koroki Forest, Link,” she said, “but you and the rest of Hyrule perished because of a sequence of events largely unrelated to Ganondorf’s tyranny. These events were set in motion by your quest to relocate your guiding fairy, Navi of the Lost Woods.”

Link suddenly remembered what his other self had said about Navi leaving him the moment he woke up in the Temple of Time. If she were here, she would know what to do. The possibility of seeing her again after all this time washed over him like a comforting blanket. “Do you know where she is? What happened to her?”

“She is here, with me.”

Link’s wolf eyes opened wide. So that’s where she went when she left! “She’s been here the whole time!? But how…? Can I see her?”

“You would not recognize her, Link. Like yours, her form has changed to reflect the state of her heart. It would not be the same.”

“I don’t care what she looks like; I just want to see her again… Even if it’s one last time…” Link looked pleadingly on the brilliant golden Goddess. She considered him judiciously.

“Very well. But I do this as a kindness and not because I see wisdom in the matter.” The goddess pulled her mantle down more tightly over her shoulders. “Rarely are those who pass into the Golden Land given to know the identities of the ones who knew them in life. They are rather permitted only to know each person for who they truly are. Here all truth is revealed; there are no deceptions, no undeserved favor, no unwarranted judgment. Here people are seen for what they are—no more, no less.”

“That’s fine with me.” Link was anxious, anticipating the unlooked-for chance to see Navi again. Orda considered Link again before turning and walking deeper into the mountainous caverns of Zora’s Domain. Link followed close at Orda’s heels like a loyal hound.

Immediately, their surroundings changed again. Instead of slick stone walls covered in moss and lichen, they were enfolded by a cathedral of ancient trees. Very soon Link began to recognize the scenery; Orda was taking him to the Koroki Forest. They passed a tree that he remembered as a stump from the Hyrule he had left behind. He mused at what a handsome tree it was—he might have built a tree house there for himself if it had not been cut down.

The forest was taller than he remembered it, but it was certainly the same place. As they passed the verdant arboreal columns Link became aware of just how alive they all were…and how dead he felt by comparison. Instinctively, Link began following smells and sniffing clusters of roots, fascinated by what he found there. He was astonished that this place seemed so familiar and his wolf form so natural to him when they were so different from what he had left behind. And the more he saw of the Golden Land, the more astonished he became. There were no buildings, no signs of civilization or progress; he imagined this serene paradise represented what Hyrule would have been if it had been left untouched. Or perhaps this was the real Hyrule and the other was nothing but a dead shadow of the Golden Land…

Deeper and deeper into the forest they plunged until they came to that grotto where Link knew he would find the Great Dekku Tree. The realization suddenly dawned on him that the ancient tree’s physical shell would be dead just as his own was. Perhaps he could speak with the Dekku Tree’s spirit! Link’s hopes betrayed him, however, for when they entered the grotto there was not the Great Dekku Tree with his twisted wooden face. Instead there was an unusually large golden tree with bark like any other’s.

Link’s heart sank. “What happened to the Dekku Tree?” he thought.

Orda’s mantled form halted in the center of the clearing. “He is here, with me.”

“You mean…that’s him?” Link asked.

Pause. “Yes, it is he,” she admitted with marked reluctance. “Do you wish to see your Guide, now?” As if to say that she had warned him he would not like what he found here. Link lowered his wolf-head. He had already asked to see Navi; it had been remiss of him to ask for an arrangement with the Dekku Tree.

“Yes,” he said abashedly. He didn’t care if Navi were something ugly or putrid like the mysterious golden wolf, but secretly he wished she would be majestic, like the panther-hawks. “Yes, please, let me see her.”

“Very well, then. Look up into the sky.”

* * *

Warmth.

And blue. Never-ending blue. Nary did a cloud remain in the sky when Link opened his eyes. He was stiff, and hot, and his limbs were slow to respond. But little by little he managed to flex his fingers, then wiggle his toes. Suddenly, the rest of him woke up all at once and he stretched, groaning as his whole body complained of mistreatment. He cleared his throat.

“Navi?” he said aloud, sitting up. Link cast his eyes about.

He was sitting up on a canvas cot on the small flat roof of a high tower; one of Hyrule Castle’s high towers. A welcome breeze brushed past him. All around him he could see Hyrule stretch away, off toward the horizon. To the east he saw Death Mountain’s red glow on the underside of the gray cloud that permanently hovered over the volcano. To the south gaped Hyrule field, wide and expansive, with Lon Lon Ranch at its approximate center. Far to the west stretched a forest that climbed up into the northwestern arm of the Death Mountain range, and down in the south-west the desert still swept with burning sands. But no matter where he looked, he did not see his fairy.

“Navi, where are you?” Then he remembered: “Quit hiding in my clothes.” He rolled his eyes, waiting for her to emerge.

When the fairy did not respond, Link reached into his cap, where Navi was accustomed to hiding when she was not bobbing along beside his head. But she was not there. He grunted again and yawned, his eyebrows coming together in confusion.

“Navi?”

But she was gone.

Panic struck him. “Navi, where are you? Navi, answer me, this isn’t…!” His fingers suddenly found the hilt of a sword and he stopped. He stared into the nothingness of the sky and realization struck his face; without looking, he knew what he had found.

His dreams had been real.

“No. No, Navi, no…” He picked up the Four Sword, looking at his reflection in the blade as if it held answers for him, considered the green stone in the pommel as if it would console him, looked to the sun overhead as if it would suddenly turn blue and prove to be the fairy he longed to be alive, but knew was not. “NO!! Navi, no…” He pressed the handle of the sword to his chest, holding it like a doll, clenching it as if it would disappear and prove all of this yet another dream to wake up from.

But Link did not wake up; he was already awake. Tears flowed unabashedly from his eyes and he choked on his own breath, coughing and drawing his arm across his nose multiple times.

“I’m sorry, Navi, I’m so sorry,” he confessed to the glowing orb above him. “I didn’t… I don’t care that you…” His face scrunched up and he moaned. He nestled the sword in his arms again. “You’ll always be my fairy… Always…”

Seconds seemed like eternities, and an eternity later his eyes fell upon the vertical rip in his tunic. His muscles seized.

“…You…” He placed one hand into the hole, feeling the flesh underneath. He was whole and clean; unharmed in any way. “…You…” He clenched his teeth, the ringing in his ears drowning out his own thoughts. His arms shook. His whole body shook. And then he gripped either side of the hole and ripped his hands in opposite directions, shouting something, he knew not what, neither did he care. He let the shreds of his tunic fall open, revealing his young chest, and then he lifted up the Four Sword and stood, rounding on the pool of darkness that formed on the roof of the tower, opposite the sun from his own body. “Dastard!!” he cried, and swung down on his shadow with all his strength.

Clang! was the sound as steel struck stone. “No!” he yelled. Clang! The sound of self-hatred. “You shouldn’t have killed her!” Clang! The sound of remorse, and sorrow, and guilt and everything else that Link could throw into the well in his heart; the empty well where Navi used to be… “You killed her…!” Vainly, he stabbed the sword’s tip into the tower’s roof. “No…” he whined, and let the blade fall to one side. His hands came up and muffled his sobs. He wiped his nose on his arm and laid himself down, his hands clenching at nothing, his eyes wetting the dry stone with his tears. And there he lay for an eternity, the hot sun warming his arm and side, lamenting his lost fairy and the betrayal of his own shadow.

* * *

A young boy shivered in the sunlight, an old sword hanging loosely from his fingers, singing—its tip sweeping through the grass as he staggered, gasping, clutching at his chest, his violet tunic stretching, creasing, the vertical gash over his stomach opening and closing like a gasping mouth…

The boy glared at the shining orb hanging above him in the sky. He had only another few feet to go before he was in the shade of the barracks. His eyes rolled back in his head and he exhaled desperately. Only just as he would have fainted did a pair of arms reach out to catch him. Then a second pair assisted the first, pulling the boy into the shadow of the building.

“You’re such a weakling, you know that?”

“He always was the annoying one…”

“No, you were the annoying one. He was the irresponsible one.”

The boy looked up into two identical faces; sandy blonde bangs protruded from under two cone-shaped caps; one red, one blue. The boys wore tunics to match their caps, each with the same vertical gash on the stomach. Here, in the shadow, their eyes glowed a malicious red.

The boy wearing the purple tunic stood on his own feet and tucked the sword he held into his belt. “Yeah, well, I think you both are the biggest losers ever…”

“Whatever; that just means you’re a loser, too.” Red snorted. “Good comeback, Vi. Did you work on that while you were falling over from light exhaustion?”

“Shut up, you two,” snapped Blue. “I’m trying to think.” He stared into the ground, his red eyes flitting back and forth as if they were reading something. “Okay, now if it’s when I think it is…”

“It’s afternoon. Duh.”

“Shut up, Red, didn’t I just say I’m trying to think?” Red rolled his eyes quietly. “Alright, it’s still two nights before the Gods attack, which means we have a chance at getting the Fused Shadows before they do. Death Mountain is still quiet, which means the meteor hasn’t hit yet. But Sophia could already be up there. All we have to do is find a way into the volcano before she does…”

Red threw out his hands. “Aren’t you forgetting something? We’ve got the small problem of sunlight. Death Mountain is an open trail; we’ll never make it to the top before we drop like moths.”

“I know that!” Blue snapped. “I just haven’t figured that part out yet!”

“We could just throw a blanket over our heads…” offered Vi.

“Oh, yeah, Vi, that’s real intimidating.” Red pantomimed being bundled up. “I’m gonna get you, fearsome Twilight Witch! Fear the boy in the blanket!”

“Shut up!” Blue hissed.

Red held up a hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know: you’re thinking. Give me a break. Let’s just go fight something.”

“No, I heard something.” Blue was staring out at the eastern courtyard with acute interest. The trio was quiet. For a moment there was nothing to draw their attention, then:

“I’d come with me if I were you,” said a voice, close and authoritative. Yet there was nothing nearby which could have made the sound. The three Shadows peered around them. It was Vi who finally pointed to the ground.

“Look,” he said. Sure enough, there was a pair of footprints in the grass, just off the walkway.

Red smacked Violet on the head. “Those are our footprints, dummy.”

Vi rubbed his cap where Red had struck him. “Geez, would you at least look at it before you slap me? They’re moving, you jerk.”

“He’s right,” said Blue, and as if in response the pair of invisible feet lifted from the grass, grinding with a stony grit as they stepped onto the walkway.

“Very good,” said the disembodied voice. “I see you should have no trouble doing what must be done.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” barked Red, drawing his sword. “You wanna take me? I’ll kick your invisible—”

“Shut up, Red!” Blue commanded. He faced the approximation of the invisible man’s head. “What do you want? If there’s something in it for us, we’ll consider it.”

Red recoiled. “Like we’d do whatever he says! We’ve got our own plans!”

“Yes, I heard,” said the voice. “Blankets, hmm? I have a far better idea of how you can get the Fused Shadows. Just follow me,” said the voice, moving toward the door of the barracks. The door opened, ostensibly of its own accord, and the footfalls entered, trailing down the steps into the barracks.

Vi and Red looked at each other dubiously, but Blue did not hesitate to obey the voice’s instructions.

“Hey, wait for us,” Red whispered.

* * *

On the captain’s bed were three of the four masks Link had brought back from Termina; Mikau the Zora, Darmani the Goron, and a nameless Dekku Scrub boy. Link had told all of their stories, and Malon had been the perfect audience. Slowly, reverently, Link removed the fourth and final mask his sack of items. It resembled a Hylian man with white hair and red and blue tribal markings.

“Ooh,” Malon cooed, impressed at the mask. She took it with equal reverence. “Who was this?”

“Well,” Link began, “this is the mask of the Fierce Deity. But it looks like my Dad,” he explained.

Malon’s brows came together. “But Link, I thought… Did you know yer dad?”

Link nodded. “He was the Captain of the Royal Guard…before me…”

“You mean that was yer dad?” said Malon, awed. “The one that stood up t’that Ganon creep and protected Zelly’s Momma? Oh, Link, I ain’t never heard a sweeter thing in all my life…” She put her arms around him and squeezed supportively.

Link felt somewhat embarrassed, as if he were taking credit for what his father did. Nevertheless, he did not shy away from Malon’s embrace, but sat down beside her on the bed. “I didn’t really know him too well…”

“Oh, but ever’body knew Cap’n Colin an’ his brave knights!” she beamed. “Every year at the Tournament he’d get out in front o’ ever’body an’ put on a show like nothin’ you’d ever seen. Me’n Poppa’ve been so many times I cain’t remember. The knights’d all take challengers from the crowd and fight ‘till they had the top champions and then Colin would take the best o’ those and fight ‘em till they was beat! He’d always win; he was the best knight there was!”

Link suddenly felt the blood rush to his face and he found himself demurring for the first time since he could remember. His father was famous? Not just the Captain, but known as the best knight ever? And to hear Malon say it was like cannon; Link had the best father there ever was! Then another thought occurred to him; if Malon knew about his father…

“You didn’t know my mom, did you?” Link heard himself say. Only after he saw Malon’s expression fall did he remember; Link’s mother had died when he was just a baby.

“Oh, no, Link. Cap’n Colin’s been a widower since as long as I ever knew.”

Link fumbled with his hands. “Yeah, I sorta forgot that just now. Actually, I never knew who she was until the Dekku Tree told me about what happened. “Just after I was born there was a war. She and some other people were attacked and she brought me to the Dekku Tree to save me. Then she died.”

“Oh,” said Malon sadly. “So you never knew yer Momma neither?”

“Not really. Afton’s told me about her, though. He was her brother. Mom’s name was Karin,” Link explained. “Afton says she was real spoiled; but she used to play tricks on him, and go around playing like she was a knight. That’s why she liked Dad, I bet. Afton says Mom and Dad would get mad at each other sometimes, and then Mom would challenge him to a spar to see who would win.” Link chuckled. “Dad would never take her up on it, but I think it was ‘cause he was scared she’d beat him. But he’d always get her flowers and things, and she was always taking time to make sure he looked his best as the captain.”

Malon grinned. “Oh, they sound like real nice folks, Link. I’m sure I would’ve loved to meet ‘em. If I’da known they was yer parents, leastwise…” She offered him a half smile, and then regarded the mask in her hands with new interest.

“Yeah. I guess I would have, too.” He took the mask of the Fierce Deity from her, looking on the face as if it were truly his deceased father.

There was a knock at the door.

Link looked up. “Oh, uh… I guess I’d better get that.” Malon smiled at him reassuringly. Link tucked the Fierce Deity Mask in his satchel and opened the door.

Malon flattened out her dress and looked down at the bed where three false faces stared back at her with empty eyes. Such amazing and strange things Link had seen, she thought. She wished she might have an adventure with him, someday. When she looked up again the door was ajar, but Link was not in the doorway. Malon squinted; she hadn’t even heard him leave.

“Link?” she said aloud. “Link, where’d y’all go?” But there was no answer. She peeked into the muster area. “Alright, Mister Cap’n, come out and stick yer hands where I kin see ‘em.” She edged around the door and turned suddenly, surprising nothing but an empty wall. Standing in plain sight, Malon swept her eyes over the barracks, seeing no sign of the boy-hero.

Link had inexplicably vanished.

* * *

A gentle breeze swept over Lake Hylia, drawing the water up in little waves, the sun glinting playfully over the glassy surface. Out in the middle of the lake a lone island stood, where a lone tree grew. In the island’s center was a disk of stone, as wide as a man is tall; it bore the symbol of the Sage of Water. At the base of the lone tree sat a lone plaque, a testament to some poet’s existence, now some years past. The birds chirped, and occasionally the water would splish as a fish broke the water to gulp up a tasty insect.

Out on the water, humming lightly to himself, was the lakeside biologist. He pulled gently on the oars locked to his boat, guiding it closer, ever closer to the lone island. But though he had visited the spot many times before, he would not on this occasion.

Stretching away from the lone island was a long bridge made of rope and thick wooden planks. Some distance apart from the island, where the bridge was firmly bolted, staked and tied, a column of rock rose out of the water with a single stone gracing its peak. The stone was hewn at right angles and it bore an epitaph, but it was overgrown and worn; though no name peeked out from under the moss, it was known by lake-goers to be the final resting place of Mica, the Zora Bard.

Swinging over the water at another angle, between the column of rock and the cliff where stood the laboratory-home of the lakeside biologist, was yet another rope-and-wood bridge. On this bridge walked Raean, still wearing her steel boots and gleaming Silver Gauntlet. Some distance below, she caught the gratified humming of the lakeside biologist on the breeze. From this vista, the water seemed far less picturesque, and more menacing.

“Here?” Raean called out. She clutched a little too tightly to the rope. When she heard it groan under her empowered grip she eased off. “Is it much farther?”

The biologist looked above him. “Oh, Raean, you can’t be in a rush, dear! The fish have little to worry them; you must think as they do if you are to gain their trust. Relax!”

Raean slid her hand along the rope, moving herself toward the column of rock. “Sure, of course,” she conceded. Her teeth squealed from how she was clenching her jaw. If any of these boards gave way, the fish would be her only friends for the rest of her short life.

At length she made her way to the goal. From atop the stone column she let down a long rubber tube to the biologist, the end of which he fastened to a clamp under one of the seatboards.

“Alright, dear, now double-check that you have everything. Net?” Raean held aloft a carefully folded mass of thin strings with weights dangling from it. “Bait?” Raean shoved her hand into a pouch at her waist and emerged with a small bit of coral. “Good. Now that’s very rare, remember. Trout are attracted to it, it’s true, but it’s also the only thing which can lure the legendary Reekfish of Zora Falls. I know it’s your first time, but if you can avoid it I’d rather that not end up on the bottom of the lake-bed.” Raean nodded down to the venerable man. She was more concerned with not ending up on the bottom of the lake-bed herself to really hear what he said next, but she knew it had to be the only thing left. She held up her end of the rubber tube.

“Good,” the biologist called out. “Now remember: cycle your breathing or you’ll asphyxiate—in through the mouth, out through the nose. Are you ready?”

“No,” she muttered through smiling teeth, but she nodded and sighed. This would be a test of courage the likes of which she had not yet experienced. What irony it would be if a Gerudo died of drowning. Raean clutched the net in one hand, checked to be sure the coral was securely in her pouch, and pinched the rubber tube closed with her other hand. For many long moments she stood on the edge of the stone column. Finally, she lowered her hands and called out:

“Are you sure the trout are right here? They can’t have swum closer to that island, where it’s shallower?”

“Raean, you can trust me,” called the biologist.

Even from far above the water Raean could see the old man’s unabashed, toothy grin. And with a shake of her head, wondering whether those would be the last words she would ever hear the biologist say, she jumped.

The flat surface of the lake rushed up to meet her and water rushed around her ears, flooding them with the sound of churning liquid. Then she was fully submerged, and her ears heard something very foreign to her, her eyes beholding sights she had not even conceived of. Under the water was an entire world to itself; a horizon high above her admitted light to the startling array of sea creatures teeming amid flowing, swaying weeds of every color. Bulbous biri bulged and bobbed. Fish flitted among ghostly shimmering shells with serrated spines, cruel, yet beautiful. From this angle, she could see more clearly the silhouettes of tektites skipping across the surface of the water, high above her.

Only when her lungs pleaded for air did she remember her errand. Slipping the rubber tube into her mouth, Raean inhaled her first breath of stale air. The biologist had said it would be this way; she was supposed to remain calm and inhale several slow, deep breaths in order for the fresh air to work its way down to her. As she did so, she stood very still. This was supposed to allow the fish to acclimatize to her presence. Shortly, a group of sparkling lights caught her attention to one side. When she looked, she realized it was not merely sparkling lights, but the filtered sunlight reflecting from the silver scales of a school of small fish. She turned her arm, signaling to the school with her shining bracer. When the light passed over them, the fish scattered, divided, then swirled around to regroup. Raean smiled at this. When she had set an even breathing rhythm for herself, she fished the coral from her pouch.

Raean saw a round, flat rock nearby. Stepping as though in slow-motion, she walked over to the place, nested the bit of coral firmly within a small crack in the rock, and then stepped away exactly five paces. She readied her net, bent herself low, and waited.

Luckily, it was not long before an undulating shadow alerted her to the coming of a long fish. When its coloring resolved, Raean saw that it was of the same species that Vern had been; a rare Hylian trout. She gripped the net, poised for the catch. She waited until the trout had come to investigate the coral before sweping her arms back slowly…

But the catch was not to be. A sudden splash from high above startled the fish, and it darted away. Raean turned and saw a silhouette against the sunlight. But it was not a tektite; it was human.

Dashing the net aside, Raean heaved up her heavy legs and ran, pressing her bulk through the water with the frantic, nightmarish haste. The biologist’s body sank to the lake-bed, casting up a halo of silt around him. But when she reached him Raean saw that he was not only motionless, but withered away, yet more like a skeleton than he had been before. Nevertheless, the Gerudo woman did not hesitate, but threw his fragile body over one shoulder and pressed her weighted body ever onward, toward the shore and the laboratory. All he needed was air, she convinced herself, still sucking her own frenzied breath through the rubber tube that remained fastened to the canoe, now following languidly overhead.

She broke the surface of the lake and spat out the mouthpiece of the tube, gasping for air through a veil of water. Carefully, she laid the biologist down on the wet earth, shaking him gently.

“Come on, old man! Listen! Hey, don’t ignore me, you crotchety old—” And he opened his eyes, clenching her silver arm and regurgitating a mouthful of water. He gasped heavily.

“T-two—” he hacked, raising a withered hand to his mouth.

“Take it easy, grandpa. Just rest for a second, you’ll be fine.”

“N-no…” he said, his eyes now bulging in his emaciated eyesockets. “Y-you must listen. Two f-faces… The island… Two...faces…” The man inhaled a short quick breath, and his eyes lost their focus.

“No, no, old man, don’t you go to sleep on me. You hear? You can’t go! I almost caught a trout! You want another Vern, don’t you?”

“Th-that doesn’t matter anymore…” the biologist wheezed. “I can die knowing that my life was valuable…”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to understand…” he replied, his voice even softer now. “You can trust me…” And his withered body finally relinquished, and he was still.

Another amazing chapter The little comedic scenes between Red, Blue, and Vi had me laughing for a while. Vi is so cute and yet - seems - so stupid, even though he isn't. Keep up the great work!

Chapter IX
The FORCE SHARD

“Just there,” said Orda, and she reached up, drawing her coverlet back over her head. Their surroundings went dark and the shining orb that hung in the middle of the sky dimmed until it became a shimmering disk again; the liquid-gold moon. Link gazed up among the stars half expecting to see the familiar ball of light with dragonfly wings fluttering before him. But in this, too, his expectations betrayed him, for he was greeted by nothing of the sort. If fact, he was greeted by nothing at all. For the second time his heart sank.

“Where is she?” thought Link.

“She is there, Young Hero. Can you not see her?”

Link looked again. For the second time he saw nothing of note. Now he felt as if he were being played. “But, where is she?” Link demanded more forcefully. He was tempted to lash out at the goddess with his wolf-teeth for baiting him so. Just as this emotion took root in his heart, however, he stopped; one star out of the hundred-score began to glow brighter.

Link stared at it, wondering what it meant. It hung in the east, just to the left of the faceless Dekku Tree. The sight of it calmed him somehow, and he thought for a moment that he saw the star shine not gold, but blue. As soon as it happened it passed, however, and he was left staring off into the millions of identical stars again. “You mean…”

“Yes, Child of Courage,” said Orda, her voice now oddly proud; as if she always knew he could see.

Link was careful not to divert his gaze from that one star that had shone out from among the rest. “Can I talk to her?”

“As well as you may…”

Link regarded the star with especial appreciation. He did not know whether it would answer him, but he felt he should say something to her. “Navi?” he began tentatively. “I never really got a chance to thank you. You always helped me… We got pretty annoyed with each other sometimes, but… I guess I couldn’t have made it as far as I did without you. So…thanks.” He smiled in wolf-fashion. “I guess I thought you were mad at me, and that’s why you left, but… I came to rely on you so much I guess I didn’t think of how good a friend you were. You always reminded me of where I needed to go…and where I came from.” The star might have winked, then. Or had Link imagined it?

It occurred to Link that he did not know how Navi had died—or moved on, as it were. “What happened? How did she get here?” thought Link.

Still veiled by her coverlet, Orda responded. “After Navi was taken from her first child, she was given to you as a special charge; she was to ensure that you followed the path that would fulfill your destiny as the Hero of Time.”

“And when I did, she…” Link faltered.

Orda inclined her head. “The lives of fairies are about bringing things to a higher life. Some fairies are taken advantage of and used selfishly to extend mortality to unnatural lengths, while others—those made by the Great Dekku, for example—find their greatest joy in enlivening the spirits of trees. Once Navi’s child was banished from the forest, your guardian devoted her life to ensuring your success as the Hero. When that task was done her life was expended. It was a sacrifice that she made gladly; with a renewed sense of purpose she arrived here glowing brightly for the joy her life—despite her occasional…frustration with her charge.” Judging by her tone Link thought Orda was smiling at the thought. He smiled too.

Link gazed at the star a moment longer before he could pull himself away. It was strange; he knew that stars could not smile any more that wolves could but the little pinprick of light seemed to be doing so. For all the things that he was not permitted to know in this place, Link felt as if he could discover them anyway if he bothered to look hard enough.

“And now, Young Hero, we must go. I have yet to deliver you your charge…”

But just as he was about to turn away, Link saw the star glow bright again and a thin ray of golden light shone down from it like the beacon of a lighthouse. The end of the shaft rested on a small tree growing under the boughs of the faceless Great Dekku, directly under the fairy-star. As Link considered this smaller tree he thought he recognized something about it, though he had never seen it in the Dekku Tree’s clearing before. In fact, he recalled a Gossip Stone had been placed there instead. He loped across the clearing, past the shrouded Orda.

“Wait,” said the Goddess, holding out her hand to the boy-wolf. He turned, looking at her tentatively. “If you wish to proceed I will not detain you, but proceed under admonition; that tree holds the key to many things for you. Do not unlock what you have not the will to close again.” Link considered this mysterious warning soberly. He looked back and forth between the goddess and the tree. Finally, he turned to the tree and did not look back.

* * *

After another eternity there was the sound of a latch being pulled back. Link sniffed and lifted his head. The wooden hatch in the tower’s roof was pushed open and a bearded face emerged from the hole. A pair of shoulders followed, square and protected with the chain shirt and tunic of a knight of Hyrule. Link sat up, wiping his eyes and feeling weighted to one side; he had been laying there for some time.

It was the man’s blue eyes which struck Link first, though afterwards he always spoke about the man’s voice. When he spoke, a growl laced his words, as if he were always displeased with something. But his blue eyes said differently.

“Link,” the man growled. “Come inside, won’t you, son?”

Link did not know why, but he trusted the man. He knew the voice as the one that had let him rest before. Link raised himself up, bending his joints until they worked properly again, and then stooped to recover the Four Sword.

“Leave the sword,” growled the man kindly. “It won’t go anywhere. Come along…” And his head disappeared into the open hatch. Link left the sword where it was and followed.

It took a moment for Link’s eyes to adjust to the relative darkness inside the tower. Link paused at the base of the ladder to gain his bearings and look around.

The room was perfectly circular. The walls and floor were made of stone, but the lush furnishings warmed the mood, if not the air. In fact it was quite cool inside the tower, despite the actual warmth of the orange light which shone brightly through the red velvet curtains over the windows. Covering the empty wall spaces were many golden-threaded banners embroidered with red lions. Plush rugs extended like tongues from under the many squashy couches and armchairs lining the walls and dotting the floor giving the place a regal, comfortable feel. Link noticed a door to his left where a long-beaked staff was leaning. A telescope stood ready before a curtained window.

As he ventured away from the ladder, Link could see that a fireplace occupied the center of the room. He was mildly perplexed by this, as there was no visible chimney for venting smoke. As it turned out, a chimney was not necessary; for fluttering quietly within the fireplace was a magical, smokeless blue fire that gave off waves of cool air like a pleasant breeze.

Tables were positioned in convenient locations around the room where Link saw curious items that had been half-dismantled, the dried remains of a dissected Bombchu, and multicolored rows of bottles full of what Link recognized to be the liquidy gelatin from harvested Chus. Resting on one table was a wooden head wearing a cap of surpassing fineness, all red with gold trim and set with a green hexagonal gem which Link knew to be a rupee, the major form of currency in Hyrule. He asked no questions, but moved to the next table, where he saw a stand with an array of fist-sized colored prisms; one red, one blue, and one green.

“Now, don’t touch any of those, my boy,” came a testy voice from the other side of the fireplace. A mousy-looking wizard emerged with a frazzled look about him. “Rare things, those spells. Only the Great Fairies can crystallize them like that. Anyone else just has to learn them like the rest of us. And the cap is part of a set; a suit of armor, if I ever finish it. Just…don’t touch anything; I’ve been trying to accommodate for you, you know. Didn’t expect visitors… So sudden…”

The mousy wizard bustled quickly to one table where a star chart lay open and other long rolls of paper were scattered. He rolled up the chart and scooped it and the other rolls into his arms before returning to the other side of the fireplace. “Just make yourself comfortable, I’m sure. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” said Link, far too distracted by the interesting things in the wizard’s study to remember he was not. He sank into one cushy armchair, his feet lifting from the floor.

Now the growling man came around from the other side of the fireplace with a saucer and a cup of steaming liquid. “Tea,” he grumbled. “I expect it should do you some good, so drink up.” He handed the cup and saucer to Link who nestled it on his lap.

“Um…thanks.” Link blew on the steaming brew.

“…really, I can’t believe I haven’t found it, my boy; you woke up faster than I had anticipated.” The frazzled wizard came into view and scratched his head in consternation. This only threw his mousy hair off-balance, accentuating his evident frustration. “Arinco, I don’t suppose you’ve seen it?”

“No, Master Ezlo,” growled Arico. “Come and sit down, you’ll remember in a moment. The boy needs an explanation.”

Link did not argue, but took a sip of his tea. It was a little bitter, but sweetened with honey. The heat of the tea inside his throat coupled with the coolness of the blue fire soothed him remarkably well. Within this curious tower, recent events did not disappear, but rather they seemed held at bay. Link felt he would not be obligated to take upon himself the concerns that waited for him until he was ready. Finally, Ezlo resigned himself to sit on the couch beside Arinco, still tossing his head with frustration.

“Now, then, son. A proper introduction, I think; my name is Arinco. I’m the mayor where I come from, but here I’m as lowly as a servant. These clothes, alas, are not even mine; but I would have been proud to wear them as a knight of Hyrule, had I the chance. You’ll have more questions for me shortly, but perhaps you’d like to meet my acquaintance here…”

“Pleasure, I’m sure, my boy. We’ve met before—several times, actually—but I’m sure you wouldn’t remember.” Even from the couch Ezlo continued to survey the room for his missing object. “I’m the court mage of Hyrule Castle, though lately I’ve done little more than recount the happenings of the heavens and entertain. As you can see I am in the middle of quite a few projects.” Link certainly could, at that, and took another sip of the soothing tea.

“So, then,” growled Arinco, “there will be other guests arriving shortly. We’ve let your friends know you’ve woken up.”

Link paused mid-sip. “Friends? Is Saria coming? Please tell me Mido’s not…”

Arinco looked to the mage. “Koroki,” Ezlo clarified.

“Er… I suppose we assumed,” Arinco amended. “That is, we haven’t invited any forest children, but Princess Zelda will be coming, and—”

“Princess Zelda!” Link exclaimed, slamming his teacup to the saucer. “I forgot! I was supposed to talk to her right when I got back, but then everything else started happening and I—” But suddenly Link became terribly ill and he felt the tea rising in his throat. Quickly, he clapped a hand over his mouth, very nearly losing the small amount of liquid he had drunk.

“There, now, you see, Master Arinco? I told you to add some crushed tektite shell; always calms the stomach—”

“Quiet!” Arinco growled. He laid a reassuring hand on Link’s arm. “Are you alright, son? Take things easy for now, you’ve had a close call.”

Ezlo stood, visibly impatient. “You never take my advice. Why is it no one ever takes my advice?” Now the agitated wizard paced the floor, tossing his free-flowing hair and shuffling the contents of his tables.

Link’s eyes were watering, but with Arinco nearby, he felt at ease and he was able to master himself. “What happened to me?” he asked when his stomach had settled down somewhat.

“You were stared in the face with the Dark Mirror, my boy,” said Ezlo, never diverting himself from his scrounging. “Brought your shadow to life. It took over your body, to be sure. Had to throw you up on the tower or you’d have been a goner.”

Link appeared as he was; thoroughly confused. So many questions now flew through his head he did not know which one to ask first. “What’s the Dark Mirror?” he asked, when he could finally decide on one.

“An ancient shield created by the gods,” said Arinco. “It brings turmoil where there is peace and shadow where there is light. It is notorious for corrupting the souls of those who are not protected by the gods. When you were confronted with it in Hyrule Castle, your shadow came alive and overtook you. From then on your body was its puppet, to use as it pleased. And the first thing it went after was the Four Sword…” Arinco paused to allow Link a chance to assimilate this.

Link swooned lightly. “Wait, but… I thought you said I was a goner. Why am I not possessed now?”

“That’s what I just said,” snipped Ezlo. “We threw you up on the tower because it was a clear day.” Link stared, his lack of understanding written clearly on his face. Ezlo inhaled, slowing himself down. “Your shadow took you over. The best way to cast out a shadow is with light; pure light. Speaking of which, where is that blasted amulet?” He returned to his hunt.

“So you put me up on the roof…” Link repeated slowly.

“Aye,” Arinco replied. “When we found you it was clear you were fighting the Shadow for dominance. But not all hope is lost,” he added with deliberate cheerfulness. “If you alone withstood the Shadow long enough for us to recover you, then that means that some part of you was able to oppose the Shadow’s complete possession. It was also foolish enough to divide itself in four while you were still rejecting its power. This gave you the chance you needed to break its hold… We—Master Ezlo and I—think it’s unwise for you to come in contact with the Four Sword provided there isn’t a reliable source of light to prevent you from relapsing. Otherwise, the Shadow could return and you would lose control again.”

Link thought on this, pondering what he remembered from his ‘dreams.’ “Then there really are more of me; more Shadows…”

Arinco looked at the floor before he responded. “Aye, unfortunately. But by the time we arrived in the Sanctuary they must have gone.” Arinco looked at his hands. “Son, there’s something I must tell you; even with your resilience, we had to leave you on the tower for hours. Your Shadows are strong, and their personalities are the exact inverse of yours. We’re afraid of what they might do…”

Link considered this seriously. “Why?”

“Because we know what you can do,” said Ezlo, appearing again, “and what you’re capable of, if pressed to your limits.” The wizard regarded Link with his small, beady eyes, considering the boy judiciously. “That was quite a fit you gave up on the tower, my boy.”

“Ezlo, go easy on the lad,”Arinco interjected. “He’s bereaved. Anyone would be upset…”

“Maybe,” the wizard conceded. “Which is why this is so important, in any case.” Ezlo pressed something into Link’s hand and closed his fingers around it. Immediately, Link’s skin tingled and a shock ran through his body; he felt like he had been infused with pure electricity, but strangely he remained unharmed.

Link’s eyes widened. “What is it?”

“The last remaining shard of the Light Force,” Arinco replied.

Link opened his hand and peered at the Shard. It was wrapped around with gold wire, and hung from a golden chain. The shard itself was shaped like a long, thin wedge with a flat side that looked as if had been broken from a larger piece. It might have been made of gold as well, except that it was surpassingly light; certainly, it was not made of any metal Link was aware of. A strong magic pulsed from within the shard, and Link had the sensation of being filled with a kind of dim, inner light. He had to observe his hand to be sure he wasn’t glowing.

“What is it for?” said Link, marveling at the object.

Ezlo sat again. This time instead of being frazzled, he spoke calmly and with purpose. “Once, there was a time when the Hylia did not exist, my boy. But when they came to Hyrule they sought power for their own vain ambitions. Soon a darkness covered the land, the likes of which had never been seen before. Monsters invaded from the secret places of the world, and all seemed lost. It was then that we Picori were commanded to bring the Light Force to Hyrule, along with a sword that only the noble of heart could wield. Long ago, a hero used that sword to defeat the monsters that threatened the land, and a princess of surpassing innocence used the Light Force to banish the darkness.

“The noble Picori Blade was later infused with the four elements and became the Four Sword, acquiring the power to divide its wielder into four. The Light Force remained in the possession of the princess of the Hylia, and was passed down to each of her descendants. But each time, the Light Force was broken into smaller and yet smaller shards, until finally, only one remained.”

Now Link comprehended what a precious thing he held, and he felt unworthy of it somehow. It was as if he had willingly allowed his Shadow to overcome him, and thus knowingly required the object that would remedy that mistake. Link’s grip on the Force Shard loosened; suddenly afraid it might shatter at any moment. Ezlo continued:

“Each queen of Hyrule has borne a portion of the Light Force, and been entitled to its powers so long as she rules the land of Hyrule justly. This is why the reign of the kingdom has always fallen to the daughters of the Hylian royalty, and not the sons, as other kingdoms have done. Before her death Queen Zethra asked me to care for her portion of the Light Force in the event that she did not return. I am saddened to say that the shard you hold was hers.”

Link felt even more bashful, now. “Gee, um…” He had the sudden urge to give it back to the Picori Wizard. He held out his hand feebly.

“No, Link,” Ezlo replied. “I cannot take it from you. It is fitting, I suppose, that a Picori recovered the Light which his people brought to Hyrule, and that the Hero of the Hylia—one worthy of the Picori Blade’s favor—should be given the shard again that the darkness might be cast out. I know it seems an unjust thing that you should bear it, but it would do the queen dishonor not to make use of it. Especially when Hyrule stands in need of one to oppose the evil which threatens the land.”

Link gripped the sacred relic tighter in his hand. Where before he had been in awe of its importance, now he would not have given up the shard even if it cost him his very life. “What should I do?”

“What you must know is that the Force Shard is extremely precious, and not to be handled carelessly. So long as you wear it, your Shadow cannot return and take you again, even if you are plunged into the deepest gloom.” Ezlo lifted a finger. “But be warned of this; if the shard should come to harm and it cease to protect you while you are in that gloom, you will most certainly be lost to the darkness, never to regain yourself in this world.”

* * *

The red-haired girl ran from the barracks, calling the name of the boy that had just vanished. Only when her calls faded into the open air outside did the three Shadows creep out from their hiding places. Emerging from behind three columns were Blue, Red and Vi, looking very sneaky, their red eyes glowing greedily.

“Is the invisible man still here?” asked Vi tentatively.

“How should I know?” Red retorted. “You can’t really see him, now can you?”

“Come on,” Blue whispered, and Red and Vi instantly followed him across the muster area to the open door of the captain’s quarters.

“This is too easy!” whispered Red with apparent glee.

“No thanks to you,” hissed Vi. “You almost got us noticed.”

“What, for wanting to smack that sassy ranch-girl? Are you kidding me, she gets on my nerves…”

“Yeah, well, Blue won’t be there to hold you back next time, so you’d better watch it.”

“Quiet,” said Blue, edging into the bedroom. “The invisible man said they’d be in here.” They all entered, looking around.

Red shook his head. “It sounds so dumb to call him that; ‘invisible man.’ Like he’s imaginary or something. We don’t even know his name…”

“Well, it didn’t occur to me to ask him,” Blue replied. “Besides, what do we care? He just did us a favor and left, didn’t he?”

“Oh, shucks!” simpered Vi, kneeling on the rug.

Blue turned. “What is it, Vi, did you find them?”

“Nope, just upholstery,” said Red impatiently. “Geez, I hate it when he does this…”

“It’s not upholstery, idiot, it’s window-covering.” Violet lifted the discarded curtain-rod, laying the curtain out so he could see it better. “And it’s ruined.”

“Whatever.” Red wandered over to the tank of water on the table and rapped on the glass with his knuckles. Nikita awoke and squealed testily. “This place is boring; can we get out of here, yet?”

“As a matter of fact…” Blue was staring at the bed, in awed silence.

“What is it?” asked Vi, standing to see what he was looking at.

“Boys,” said Blue, raising up the mask of Mikau the Zora, his eyes flashing mischievously, “I think we just gained the upper hand.”

* * *

Felso, the stick-child, heaved himself up onto the dry ground of the lone island. He retained the mask of Tempus, the cruel otherworldly God of Decay, who had overtaken his body so completely that to call him any longer by his Korokish name would be a dishonor to the otherwise innocent and gentle boy. It was Tempus, then, that glared down into the deep water that encircled the island at the center of Lake Hylia. The drop was very sudden, and if one came to close to the shore of the island they were certain to fall into the lake. With unseen eyes Tempus plumbed the depths, considering the impossible entrance to the Temple of Water, far below the surface.

“My host form will never be able to sink that far,” he said aloud to himself. “A meager scarecrow am I…”

“Hey, you!” came a call from the direction of the rope bridge. It was Raean, with steel feet treading the soft island soil with malignant haste, the paragon of revenge for how her mouth bent, how her silver bracer flashed in the sun. “You’re about to die.”

“Such boldness,” said Tempus, his hands folded casually behind his back. “Usually that is my line, more or less.”

“It was you, wasn’t it? You froze the rancher and those two girls; the princesses, right? Well, I might have cared less about them. But this time you hurt my friend.”

“You’re friend, you say? And who might that have been; that rickety old skin-and-bones perhaps? That fool was hardly worth the effort. He didn’t even cower properly…”

Raean tightened the gauntlet to her arm. “I’ll make you cower properly.” And she rushed at him with all speed.

Tempus raised a hand casually and the Gerudo stopped where she was, frozen in time. “Your mind will not fade for some moments so I will take this opportunity to tell you that I do not intend to kill you…yet. Make no mistake, every denizen of my kingdom will one day feel my touch, one day feed my hungry soul with the vitality of theirs, and yours is quite alive. Your race is different than those short-lived Hylia, aren’t you? How long do you live; three…four hundred years? Your soul shall make a delectable repast one day. But you may as well leave now; it’s not your time.” Tempus would have turned, but then he caught sight of her steel boots. If he had a proper face he might have smiled a crooked, delighted smile.

“No,” he amended, “on second thought you may prove useful. Come with me.” The stick-child positioned himself very near the edge of the island, peering down into the depths of the lake again. He waved his hand lazily and Raean reanimated, recovering from her pause in time.

She staggered, just managing to steady herself. “I’ll never be your meal, cur! You’ll pay for what you did to that man.” She rushed at him again, her silver fist raised, but the next moment she was frozen for the second time. Tempus’ masked face regarded her with a passive demeanor.

Tempus chuckled. “You mortals never learn. Do you know, you have perhaps the most vibrant life-force I have yet felt in my new kingdom. That wretched old man was enough to wet my lips, but he was tainted with impurity. You are certainly worth saving for later, but you will have to learn your place. I have told you once; I will not kill you now. But you will serve my purposes whether you wish to or not.”

The stick-child wandered to one side languidly and moved a finger in Raean’s direction. She came alive again, stumbling and swaying in the air, struggling to recover from her off-balance. But for the third time she was frozen, and she could not help but fall to the ground. One heavy foot fell in a moistened patch of soil and slid away from her. Then she was falling, slipping irrevocably into the lake. She willed her silver hand to fly out and grab at the wet soil, but Tempus’ spell held her fast and her boots pulled on her mercilessly. The last thing she saw before she was engulfed in water was the mask of the sorcerous God, staring down at her dispassionately with his two half-faces. Her body lurched, slid away from the island, and sank, sank into the deep while Tempus clutched her wrist.

Raean stared helplessly to one side, feeling the rush of the lake water over her ears for the second time in her life. She was aware, fearfully aware, that her fate would be precisely what she had feared it would be. She felt the air escape her mouth, her lungs, and felt water take its place. She wanted terribly to cough, to expel the invading liquid, but she could not. Her mind dimmed, fading to the blackness that enveloped her. No longer was the lake a wondrous place.

* * *

The volcano atop Death Mountain had churned with bubbling, boiling lava ever since the first Great Star fell from the heavens and cast up the crater around it. Since then the Gorons had mined the ore within the mountain, subsisting on its nutrient-rich minerals. The Temple of Fire was also built in old days, far under the churning magma, to house the elders of the Goron tribe and for a place of safety in times of necessity. For none could last long inside the blistering caldera unless they had the thick, rocky skin unique to the Goron race, and they could avoid most conflicts by retreating beyond the reach of their assailants, where they had plenty of minerals on which to subsist.

The threat of rapid heat exhaustion did not prevent all from entering, however; for driven by necessity and revenge, two thieves now emerged into the sweltering heat, standing on a ledge far above the lake of molten rock. One of these was a Sheikah man, Abrum. The other was his sworn love: the Gerudo woman Asera, who had saved Abrum’s life many times over. Through fire and uncertainty, Abrum and Asera had climbed the mountain in pursuit of Sophia, the Godess of Cunning. Now that they had arrived, their first priority would be to find and stop the foreign Goddess before she reached the Fused Shadow hidden within the volcano.

Abrum now pointed across the caldera at a fashioned metal door, firmly bolted to the far wall of the volcano; the entrance to the Temple of Fire. “When the witch comes she will make for that entrance.”

Suddenly, further down the ledge from where Abrum and Asera stood, there was the sound of a great grumbling and the next moment a Goron appeared. He wasted no time, but curled up and rolled over the ledge into the fiery lake, toward the closed door of the Fire Temple. The tireless Goron was unharmed by the fire, and once he reached the door he unfolded and began to pound on it with loud clangs that echoed across the caldera.

“That Goron has surely been ensorcelled by the witch,” said Abrum. “Call us some rain, love; as much as you can…”

“I had the same thought,” said Asera in her strange, metallic voice. Without delay she began to chant, waving her arms and sweeping her hands in complex motions, weaving a spell that would bring them rain to cool the burning lake...

But to the Gerudo witch’s consternation, nothing happened.

“Is something wrong, my love?” said Abrum.

“No, I… The spell should have worked, I know it…” She stared at her hands as if they had betrayed her. Then she looked to the sky. “Oh, no…”

“What?” Abrum replied. But the next moment he realized the same thing that she had. “There were no clouds today, were there?”

“None,” Asera admitted, drawing her hand across her perspiring face. They both looked out at the Goron, steadily pounding away on the door of the Fire Temple. A visible dent had formed in the center of the door. Soon, if the Goron was not detained, he would have access to the Temple of Fire, and the Fused Shadow hidden within. And if the Goron gained access to it, so would the witch whom he unwillingly served. And as their skin cooked in the heat of that place, the pair of thieves knew there was nothing they could do to stop it.

But just as they were abandoning themselves to hopelessness, there came a sound from far above—the deep hoot of an owl.

Descending from the cloudless sky was a scene conceived of only in tales of far off lands; a man—a knight of Hyrule to be precise—was riding a gargantuan owl into the mouth of the live volcano, holding aloft a strange blue something which glowed fiercely in the heat, emitting a large shimmering halo which engulfed the pair. The knight—and his unlikely steed—appeared as at ease in the sweltering caldera as one might on a cool spring morning. Yet when the knight dismounted, drawing one of his rapiers, there was not ease, but something stern in his eyes.

“Thank you, Kaepora,” said Afton, for it was the lieutenant who had arrived in such an unorthodox manner. “For the message and the ride you have my gratitude. I cannot ask you to stay…”

“But I will, Kin-of-the-Hero. This environment is far too extreme for my feathers, but if you have need of a quick escape, I shall be outside keeping Biggoro company. I will stay as long as I can.”

“I am indebted to you, Master Gaebora. May the wind ever lift your wings.”

“And they shall presently, at that,” the Great Owl replied. But he paused, noticing the thieves as if for the first time. He regarded Abrum with significant interest. For a moment the two stared at one another, owl and thief, until Abrum could swear he had met the creature somewhere before. But before he could place the memory, the owl clicked his beak smartly, turned, opened his wings, leapt once, and rose high on the updraft from the burning lake.

“Abrum,” Afton called, turning. “Asera.” The knight stepped forward, advancing on the pair of thieves with evident caution. “You will not know me by name, and therefore I offer it to you so that we will be on equal terms. I am Afton, son of Rankin, son of Orrin.” In his one hand still glowed the bright blue something which shimmered coolly in the heat. In the other hand the knight’s rapier shone red in the lava-light, invoking the image of a flaming sword. This, along with the red owl emblazoned on his white tunic, struck especial awe in the thieves, the likes of which neither of them had felt quite so acutely as now.

“I shall presume you know whom I serve,” the knight continued, his voice even, his demeanor unweighted. “As such you will understand that it remains my order to bring you in as traitors…”

So to clarify...which Link is which... I feel that the Link who was alone with Malon is the Link who came back after OoT who already had an encounter with the Dark Mirror, and the Link (wolf) who followed the knight to the four sword (who should know about the foursword?) and is now in the observatory is the one who stayed in the sacred relm....right?

Next, Im glad you through in a recap of Abrum and Asera, I love the amount of detail you usually use but it felt too long imo.

and glad to see Afton back!!!!

Yeah, I guess I wasn't sure how much to remind the reader of... What do you think I should leave in/take out with Asera and Abrum. Do you feel like you could do with less backstory (why they're there, where they've been)? Or would you rather have less physical description?

Also, you're right with the Links, all except the part about Link in the observatory knowing about the Four Sword. my logic is that this Link came straight from drawing the Master Sword in OoT, being sealed away on the Sacred Realm, and then discovering all of this stuff anew... If you'll notice, this Link has actually never been called "Wolf"...

Excellent Im glad Im on the right track still ha. And I think less of both, If i had to choose it would be less description. You have developed these characters so well that it is easy (for me at least) to recall them in my head with the detail you have given in the past. A small recap of where they were and why is great.

Oh I also forgot to ask about Malon, when Link disappeared all a sudden, did the shadow links (Vi, Blue and Red) to something to her? That wasnt very clear to me. It seemed that once she turned the corner that she ran into them ...?

You will find Chapter IX edited with a quicker backstory for Abrum and Asera as well as a smoother Blue/Red/Vi section clarifying Malon's whereabouts. Special thanks to herooftime2005 for the pointers.

Incidentally, I added one last tidbit in Chapter VII. At the end of the sequence between Worlu and the invisible man...

Ah -! Yay, another chapter! I'm happy to hear about Afton! And Blue found the masks...that's not good. I love the suspense your putting into these chapters! Keep up the great work

Chapter X
In WHICH MANY JOURNEYS BEGIN

The tree’s shape told Link nothing of its identity; ostensibly it was a mundane tree made of gold, like all the others. But Link knew that if this tree was anything like the rest of this world, it was most likely a person who had died. Approaching the tree, Link sensed a gentle, yet persistent force in the air, like the warmth from a fireplace. An emotion seemed to radiate from it that made Link feel as if he were the most precious thing in the entirety of that golden land. Suddenly the leaves of the tree rustled as if by the gust of a short but powerful wind, though no wind was present. Link thought the tree was sighing.

“Who…?” Link began, but Orda’s previous admonition rested heavily on his mind and he stopped himself. “May I come here again…sometime?” he said without turning, basking in the mysterious tree’s radiance.

“As well as you may. Your path must wend where it does.” Orda ushered Link from the clearing. The call of a bird of prey sang out after him and Link looked back only once to see a hawk flying out of the branches of the mysterious tree. Then he turned again and did not look back.

Link and the Goddess of Time walked through the golden forest going nowhere but away. He did not know why but as he wandered Link’s thoughts turned to his parents. “Do you know where my mother is?” he asked meekly.

“She is here, with me.”

Link fought the temptation to roll his wolf-eyes. He should have known that Orda would not willingly answer a direct question about his deceased parents. Instead he decided to talk about them and attempt to coax some clue or other from her. It was a small chance—Orda would know his intent—but he could not resist taking advantage of the opportunity.

“I barely knew my parents,” Link began. “I met my dad once, but I didn’t know it was him.” Orda was silent. “In the future the Dekku Tree’s seedling told me my mother had died saving me from Ganon.” He waited to see if the Goddess would say anything, but ironically, instead of learning more about his parents, Link found himself brooding on Ganondorf’s atrocities; he imagined the thief-king with a pack of pig-like demons telling them to rip his mother apart. In his mind he saw what he thought his mother would look like—beautiful and strong-willed—cradling him in her arms and drawing a sword in his defense. As the scene played out he did not notice that he began to breathe harder and his vision began to blur. Tears escaped his keen wolf-eyes. He noticed only passively that his plan had backfired. “I wish Ganon had never existed; it was his fault my mother died.”

“Oh, it is not well to wish such a thing; woe to Hyrule if a Chosen One should have such a wish in his heart when he touched the Triforce,” said Orda wisely.

Link jolted as if he had been slapped. “What do you mean!? Did you want Ganon to do all those things?” Then he saw the form of Orda’s face under her coverlet. Even through the cloth he could feel her eyes pierce him through. He hung his wolf-head. “I’m sorry, I…” He did not know how to finish this thought.

“I cannot accept your apology, Link, for it is not me you have wronged. But I would offer you this counsel; place not blame for an act you do not comprehend. I say this only because you would not have done so if you had remembered yourself. That is not who you truly are. Your heart is bold, but mistake not confidence for wisdom.” She let this counsel rest on Link before she spoke again. “But if you seek blame, then know that it was I who allowed the monsters to wound your mother and drive her into the woods that night. And before you ask your next question, yes; I also allowed her to perish. It was my fault, if fault there be, for I permitted it.”

* * *

The transition had been instantaneous: one moment Link was standing in the doorway of the captain’s quarters in the barracks of Hyrule Castle, and the next he was in an open field, far from any visible markers to tell him precisely where he was. What was more; it was now the dead of night.

A clear, brilliant white moon hung over him in the sky, and the stars shone out from behind a blanket of velvet black. The crickets chirped, far away a breeze whistled through pine branches, and he might have heard the trickle of water, but he could not be certain. By all appearances he had suddenly been sent to the most remote corner of the world, farthest from civilization and any other human being. He did not know how he had come to be here, but at least it was a pleasant place, if a bit lonely. But then, suddenly, a voice spoke from behind.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Link spun on the spot, peering in all directions; there was no one to be seen. But the voice had been so close. Link reached quickly for his Four Sword replica, but it was not there; he had forgotten to strap it on after his bath. He cursed himself silently.

“Show yourself!” he responded sternly. “I am a powerful magician, and you can’t surprise me, no matter where you hide, so come out now and I promise not to harm you!” It was a bluff, but it was all Link had.

“Agreed,” said the disembodied voice, and out of thin air a man appeared in the moonlight.

Link’s first impression of the man was that he was tall. The next, as the man drew his hood back, was that he was completely bald, from his head to his face and arms. He wore a red cloak with golden trim and an ornate robe which displayed a prominent Sheikah eye. The moment Link noticed this last detail he immediately shut his own eyes.

“You can’t read my mind, no sir! Not while my eyes are closed! You’d better leave now, or I’ll cast a spell on you, and that won’t be pretty.” Link waited for the man to leave.

But he did not. “I thought you said you wouldn’t harm me… Hmm. No matter.” The man walked around Link at an equal distance, trying to catch his gaze. But Link would only open his eyes just long enough to shut them again. “I’ve brought you here for a reason, Link,” said the robed man. “Can you guess why that is?”

Link did not trust his abductor. “No, and if you think you’ll get anything out of me, you’re wrong. The Captain of the Royal Guard would never reveal details of the Hylian royalty or anything else you want.” Then he seemed to get an idea; he threw up his fists. “Have I told you I know how to fight with my eyes closed? And—”

“—you know seventeen ways to paralyze a man my size?” finished the robed man.

Link’s eyes opened. This was exactly what he was about to say. “How did you know?”

“Because we’ve had this discussion before,” the man answered simply. “And I thought you weren’t going to open your eyes so I couldn’t read your mind.”

Link snapped his eyes shut again. “Right! I won’t let you read my mind, you puppet of the evil Goddess! Get out of here or I’ll… I’ll…” Link was finally out of ideas. Besides, something else had crossed his mind. “Wait. You couldn’t have read my mind just now; my eyes were closed…” The man waited patiently for Link to put things together. “Then how did you know what I was going to say, just now…?”

The man smiled. “I’ve already told you. We’ve had this conversation before.” Link just looked at the man, clearly dumbfounded. “Ah, now that was the look I was waiting for. It’s time we did things properly.” The man extended his hand. “If you please, you can call me Stranger. And you, I already know, are Link. A pleasure.”

Something about the situation just struck Link in a strange way. “So, let me get this straight,” he began, ignoring the man’s hand entirely. “You brought me here, to the middle of nowhere—in the middle of the night—just to introduce yourself?” Link eyed the bald man suspiciously. “Don’t you think that’s a little much for an introduction?”

Stranger sighed. “Well, honestly, I was hoping you would just shake my hand and get on with it. For the moment, we’ll need to disappear. There’s no sense in wasting the preparation. Here, you’ll need this.” Stranger handed Link a flat stone with three holes bored through it in the vague approximation of a face. Link took it incredulously.

“Hey, where did you get this?” he said, regarding the Stone Mask with amazement.

“I’ll tell you about it sometime. Just put it on; they’re coming.” And the robed man pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. He vanished instantly.

“But, who’s coming?” said Link looking around him. “And how’d you do that? Hey!” But Stranger did not respond, and presently there came the sound of snorts and snuffles across the wide plain. Link recognized the sound and immediately fitted the Stone Mask to his face.

In another moment the orange glow of lanterns shone out from the southeast, and the snorting sounds became more pronounced. Soon, three wicked-looking spearheads glinted above the tallgrass and Link could finally see what he knew was coming.

“Moblins,” he whispered. “But I thought they were lost in the Woods for good…”

“Well, they aren’t,” Stranger whispered back. “Not yet, anyway. Shush, now, they’re nearly here.” Link was silent.

As the creatures came closer, the light of their lanterns revealed their twisted ugliness. There were three, and each of them had the approximate form of a man, being slightly taller, and far more bulky. Their heads were distinctly porcine, and each enormous bottom lip sagged under its own weight, revealing a bottom row of little teeth, placed close together. Out from under each snout curved two thick, sharp tusks; one moblin even had golden caps on the points. Link’s imagination automatically called this one Goldie.

“Step to it, you two dungheaps!” grunted Goldie, his bottom lip swinging in and out of the lantern light. “We’ve got to be there by midnight or the Big Boss’ll skin us for a new pair of gloves!”

“Yessir!” barked one of the moblins. The other was decidedly distracted, and looking in Link’s direction.

“Did you hear what I said, Curly?” Goldie demanded. Sure enough, the distracted moblin’s wiry hair all curled in one direction.

“What?” said Curly, never turning from what had caught his interest. “What’sat Boss?”

“Boss said walk faster!” the other moblin volunteered.

By this time the pig-men were getting quite close, and Curly seemed ever more interested in something very near to Link. In fact, the moblin’s piggy eyes dropped farther and farther the closer he came.

“Look!” Curly exclaimed, halting on the spot to point at Link. “Do you see what I see, Boss?”

“What are you blabbing about?” Goldie demanded, his lip bouncing with anger. “If you don’t put some quick into your step I’ll…” But Goldie had now noticed, too. “Hey, I does see somethin’!” he exclaimed, and all at once he came running in Link’s direction.

Now as for the resolve of ordinary eleven-year-old boys, a charging moblin is enough to drive one screaming in the opposite direction until one reaches either a very strong older brother, or a very good hiding place. But as Link did not have the first, and did not need the second—not to mention that he was not an ordinary eleven-year-old boy—he stood precisely where he was and stared the moblin directly in the face.

The creature’s breath was amazing (it reminded Link of the coat Talon had made him for his birthday) but the boy held his ground, confident in the Stone Mask’s power. Goldie’s great piggy snout snuffled and sniffed at Link’s feet until the gold-tusked pig-man rose up and turned with an air of displeasure.

“Here, you! Tell me why there ain’t any mushrooms down here? You get me distracted by one lousy tree stump and there ain’t any truffles?” Goldie stomped away, but not before slugging Curly soundly on the arm.

“I could’a sworn there was, Boss!” Curly whined. But Goldie was already far ahead, and the other moblins hurried to catch up. They did not want to be made into gloves.

When the lanterns had disappeared to the north some distance, and they could be certain they would not be noticed, Link and Stranger removed their respective camouflage.

“What are they doing this far out of the forest?” Link asked, offering the Stone Mask back to the bald man.

“Better you keep it,” said Stranger. “You’ll need it presently.” Link did not argue, but slid the mask into his satchel beside the Fierce Deity’s Mask. “And more appropriately the moblins have not found their way into the forest. Not yet, anyway.”

“What do you mean ‘not yet’? They’ve always been there. And how did it get to be night all of a sudden? Did you play the Sun’s Song, or something? And where are we anyway…?”

“You are asking the right questions, Link, but at the wrong time. I will tell you more soon, but for now you must know this; more importantly than where we are, is when. This year is 1374 Hyrulean Reckoning; we are ten years ago, from your perspective.”

Link’s jaw dropped. “Ten years...! But how…?”

“I will reveal all in time. For now, we must hurry.” And running off in the direction the moblins had gone, Stranger pulled his hood over his head again, and vanished from sight. Link could only just make out his tracks in the tallgrass.

“Hey, wait!” said Link, pulling the Stone Mask from his satchel again. He could not imagine what the strange man had up his sleeve, but he was far too curious to pass up the adventure. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long, or Malon might worry about him…

* * *

“Link!” Malon cupped her hands, bellowing out with all the strength of her ten year old lungs. “Liiink!” She scanned the southern courtyard again. This was the only way he could have gone, she convinced herself. He was not in the eastern courtyard, and the castle doors had been bolted shut. There were no guards left in the castle to ask—no one at all for that matter—and she did not want to believe he had simply left. “Dagnabbit, where is that boy? And jes’ when we was getting’ along, too.” She poked her head behind a bush sculpted to resemble a great lion.

“Link?” said a small voice, and instantly Saria’s head popped out from behind the stone planter, startling Malon and nearly throwing her off balance. Saria leapt on the girl, catching Malon’s hands in her own. “Cuckoo!”

Despite herself, Malon could not help but laugh. “Saria, yer always cheerful, ain’t you? Even when people gone missin’.”

Saria nodded. Then she seemed to change her mind and shook her head instead.

“You know somethin’, don’t you? I kin tell!” Saria grinned mischievously. “You know where Link is?”

Saria’s eyes shifted one way, then the other. Finally, she nodded once, grinning widely.

“Oh, I know; did he leave the castle?”

Saria nodded.

“Is he in the Town?”

She shook her head.

“Is he in Hyrule Field?”

Saria half shrugged and then threw her hands out to either side.

“What’sat mean; he ain’t lost is he?”

Saria considered this and then nodded decisively.

“Well, I’d better go find ‘im!”

Malon would have left, but Saria tugged on her dress. “Horse,” said the little girl.

Malon raised an eyebrow approvingly. “That’s right good thinkin’ little missy. Hossel’d take us a spot quicker than walkin’.” Malon looked around her. “But where’re Zelly and Rue? Don’tcha think they’ll want to come?”

“Link,” said Saria.

“Oh, you mean they’se lookin’ fer Link too? Well, we’d better git a move on or we’ll be left b’hind! Say, little lady, if you come with me I’ll even let you take the reins.”

Saria utterly beamed. Malon took her hand and they were halfway to the stable in the flick of a fairy’s wing.

* * *

A knock sounded on the door and Ezlo stood from the couch to answer it. When he saw who it was he opened the door wide, revealing a young girl beyond. She wore a pink dress and the tabard of the princess of Hyrule.

“Zelda!” called Link, setting his teacup on the endtable. He stood and crossed the room quickly, gripping the princess’ hands in penitence. “I’m real sorry; I’ve made a mess of things! I never got into the Golden Land and now my Shadows are on the loose and I… Oh.”

Ruto had just come in behind Zelda. She demurred playfully. “So, I guess you didn’t hit it off with Malon, then, huh?”

“Malon who?” Link’s eyebrows came together. “Do you mean that red-haired girl who calls me ‘fairy boy’?”

“What do you mean, ‘Malon who’?” said Ruto testily. “The one we set you up with, who do you think?”

But as Ruto and Link conversed, Zelda seemed to realize something was out of place. She put a hand out to either side. “Maybe we should get inside before we get too far into things, shall we?”

Ezlo raised a long eyebrow. “I should think so…” He closed the door behind the young women.

“Ezlo,” Zelda began, leading the boy back to his seat, “maybe you should tell us what happened—” But she stopped herself, staring at the bearded man who occupied the sofa. “Forgive me, but I don’t recognize you… Are you a new knight?”

“Er… Not exactly,” said Arinco, looking to Ezlo nervously.

“He’s a…traveler, Your Highness,” Ezlo offered. “He was in need of more suitable clothing. He saved young Master Link, here, and in return I offered him the set of knight’s garb I borrowed from the castle stores. You remember; to see if I couldn’t enchant the armor with protective spells?”

“Yes, of course,” Zelda agreed. “You’ve done Hyrule a great honor, Master…”

“Arinco, Your Highness,” said the mayor, placing a hand to his chest and bowing where he sat. “And the pleasure is mine. I would give anything to serve Hyrule.”

Zelda regarded the man approvingly. “Only a traveler and already your allegiances lie with our kingdom? You may make a fine knight yet, Master Arinco. Right now, though, I’ll need to have the full account, if you please. Link, why don’t you…”

But Link was not in his seat. Instead, Ruto had the boy by the hand and was leading him around the fireplace to the other side of the room.

“You know, if you can’t even remember her, you won’t miss her,” said Ruto. “Besides, that just means we can spend a little more time together…”

“But I only met you once…” said the boy, desperately attempting to pry his hand away from the fishy girl.

Zelda stepped forward. “Ruto, I don’t think that’s who you think it is…”

“What are you talking about?” Ruto asked coyly. “Are you jealous or something?” Link finally pulled his hand free.

Zelda’s face flushed red. “No, you just don’t understand; that’s not…he’s nobody!” Ruto and Link stopped, equally stunned. Zelda recoiled, shocked more than any of them by the words that had escaped her lips.

Then Link looked particularly remorseful. “Hey, I said I was sorry! I didn’t mean to screw things up, Navi and I just got into a fight and…and…and then someone came out of nowhere with this Black Mirror thing—”

“—Dark Mirror—” Ezlo interjected.

“—Dark Mirror, whatever!” said Link, now even more flustered. “And I didn’t even get into the Golden Land or stop Ganondorf. I’m sorry, okay! I’m obviously not the one from your dream, so just forget it!” Link turned and dashed across the room to the ladder. Before anyone could stop him, he was escaping through the hatch in the ceiling and the latch clicked shut behind him.

“Well that was nicely handled,” said Ruto, crossing her arms.

Zelda looked to the Picori wizard. “I think maybe you should tell us everything, Master Ezlo. If I can assume your strictest confidence, that is, Master Arinco…”

“You have it unconditionally, Your Highness.” The mayor bowed again.

“Tell us what?” Ruto eyed the others suspiciously.

Ezlo fussed for a moment, and then acquiesced. “Oh, how I do hate secrets. Especially when I am the one doing the telling…” He turned to face the young women squarely. “May it please her highnesses; our friend, young Master Link, is not the Link you know, but a double. A different person who knows only what Link knew up until he used the spiritual stones to open the Door of Time and claim the Master Sword. Since then he has been through quite a different adventure than the young man who recently became the Captain of the Royal Guard. He has been possessed by his Shadow and divided into four all in one morning.” He caught Ruto’s gaze. “And he seems rather put off by you, if you don’t mind my putting it bluntly.”

Ruto was straight-faced. “I do, actually.”

“I think I should talk to him,” said Zelda. “All he knows is what I told him before he tried to get into the Golden Land.”

Ruto folded her arms, clearly still upset at Ezlo. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t take too long, or I’ll dry out. You; Ezlo, is it? I’ll take a glass of water.” But Ruto caught a look from Zelda. She rolled her eyes. “If it’s not too much to ask.”

“No, of course not, Your Highness,” mumbled Ezlo, looking very imposed upon. “It’s not as if I have to haul it up the stairs in buckets,” which, of course, he did.

While Ruto was sipping her glass of well-drawn water and striking up a conversation with a wary mayor Arinco, Zelda poked her head through the hatch at the height of the ladder. She could see Link curled up on his cot, still shaking from emotion.

“Link?” said Zelda tentatively.

The boy drew an arm across his face and sniffed quietly. He said nothing.

Zelda closed the hatch behind her gently. “Link, are you alright? I’m really sorry about what I said inside… I know who you are, I just…”

Link sat up. “Then why are you still here, talking to me? I told you, I’m not the one from your dream, so you can start looking for someone else to help you, okay?”

Zelda’s eyes glistened. She felt as if she had been struck. Through the pain of the boy’s words she pressed on. “Link, I know better than anyone how hard this can be. I wanted to tell you—”

“You know who I’d recommend?” Link continued as if she hadn’t said a word. “Mido. He’s got a fairy; he should be able to help you. Obviously better than a lousy no account without fairy any day.”

Zelda sniffed. It was becoming more difficult for her to hold back her tears. “Please, Link, just listen. I want to explain—”

Now Link stood, shoving a finger in the princess’ face. “No, you know what? I don’t want any more explanations. Nothing that’s happening is making any sense to me. It hasn’t ever since Father Dekku died…”

Zelda’s lip trembled. Still she pressed on. “Link, the Great Dekku Tree wasn’t your father. You’re not a Koroki.”

Link threw his hands out. “Great. One more thing that doesn’t make sense. If I’m not a Koroki, then why did I come from the forest, hmm? I’m sure that explains why Navi wasn’t even my fairy!”

“Actually, it does, Link. You were born a Hylian, and your real parents were Hylians. The Koroki just took care of you.”

“Oh, sure! Then just what was my mother thinking? She’d just take a stroll through the Lost Woods one day and forget me there? If my mother was Hylian, why didn’t she keep me instead of leaving me to a life where I would always wonder why I was different; why I never had a fairy like all the other Koroki children? Or why I got older when they didn’t?”

“Link, I don’t know, but you have to calm down; you’re not yourself—”

Now Link paced the round battlement, gesticulating excitedly. “There you go with me not being me! What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re fractured!” Now Zelda could not help but let the tears flow. “You’re broken, like a mirror. Without your other pieces you’re more exposed, less hindered. You haven’t got the other parts of yourself to keep you in balance so you get angrier, more depressed, more obsessive. You need help, Link, please believe me!”

“No! I don’t want to believe! You can’t make me!”

But suddenly, the conversation was brought to an abrupt halt. The castle ramparts shuddered as great fists landed on the heavy wooden double doors of the castle’s outer wall. As Link and Zelda looked down to see what had made the noise, they saw a rampaging Goron beating his way out of the castle. Link clutched his chest and groaned.

“Link, are you okay!?” Zelda caught the boy just as he would have fallen to the stone.

“I can…feel him…” Link gasped. “It’s…my Shadow… One of them…”

The next moment the doors crunched, splintered, and finally broke apart, releasing the maddened rock-man into the Town. A great boom! reverberated out over the castle grounds as one of the tall buildings down in the Town crumbled and collapsed inward, a plume of dust rising in its place. Link and Zelda tracked the cloud of destruction cast up by the rolling menace as far as they could, until it disappeared behind a copse of trees to the south-east.

“Oh, no,” gasped Zelda.

“What?”

“It’s headed toward Death Mountain.”

“So?” asked Link indifferently, still clutching his tunic.

“So that’s where Lieutenant Afton went...”

* * *

“And what if we refuse to come with you?” asked Abrum, wiping fresh beads of sweat from his forehead. “We could use your cold talisman in a place like this. What if we just took it from you and reaped the consequences?”

“I would be forced to retaliate,” Afton replied simply. “But you will not need to rob me of my Blue Fire. I am willing to share it.” And Afton approached yet closer, the shimmering halo of coolness finally reaching the thieves. Both sighed involuntarily as the oppression of the heat lifted from them.

“Why do you do this, knight of the Hylia?” said Asera in her foreign voice. “Weren’t you here to bring us in? Aiding and abetting notorious thieves doesn’t sound like a thing a knight would do…”

“We share a common goal,” Afton replied, glancing out over the lake of molten rock to the Goron who still pounded on the steel door. The metal hinges were beginning to buckle. “We both intend to stop the Otherwordly Powers which threaten our loved ones. Bringing you in certainly remains my order. But it was never specified when or how.” This piqued the thieves’ interest. “Now that I have your attention, I suggest a bargain; you help me to find and dispatch the demon-witch, and I will ensure that you are both pardoned in a just trial.”

“Don’t talk to me about just trials, lapdog,” Asera bristled. “The Sage of Spirit received no such thing when she was executed.”

Afton’s eyes flashed. “What do you speak of? I offer you clemency and you respond with venom? Spit your poison. Speak!”

“She speaks of the death of Mudora,” said Abrum. “He was my master in the day he died. And I killed him. Itzah, the Gerudo Sage, was executed for the crime of his murder, but it was I who performed the deed. So much for your ‘just trials.’ ”

Afton’s expression solidified. “I am here to do no more than make an offer. I give you my word; I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are pardoned. If you will not agree to that, then I must exact the orders of my king, be they just or unjust in your estimation. I cannot alter them.”

“Ah, but you can only do everything in your power…” Asera rebutted. “You don’t look like the king to me. If you really wanted our help, you’d get the king to make the offer. Otherwise, we know who we’re bargaining with.”

“I know what you stand to lose if you do not accept my help,” said Afton finally. The continual beating on the door below punctuated his remarks. “You, Abrum. You long to avenge your sister.” Abrum narrowed his eyes viciously. “I have the item which can permit you access to perform your labor.” Afton extended his hand, finally revealing the item which brought the blessed coolness to Death Mountain’s unforgiving heat. It was a small, spherical bottle the size of a man’s fist, inside of which a cool blue fire flickered. Abrum peered through the Lens at it greedily.

“He speaks the truth,” Abrum muttered to Asera. “The Cold Flame could allow me passage.”

“But love, he cannot ensure that the king will not execute us the moment we return with him.”

“You haven’t much time,” Afton prodded. “Your enemy is almost at the threshold.” And sure enough, the Goron was now prying the door from its hinges. Any longer and he would be inside the Temple and the Fused Shadow would be as good as his.

Abrum hesitated.

“Agreed,” said Asera.

Both men looked on the Gerudo sorceress in surprise.

“Take it, love. Avenge your sister. I am sorry I could not help you this time. The Fused Shadow may lend me great power, but my magic is…unpredictable…” Asera’s countenance fell.

“No, my love,” said Abrum, taking his woman’s face in his hands, “it was the clouds. Only chance can guide the clouds. It was meant to be this way. I will return for you, I promise.”

“Then go. But come back to me, love.”

Afton still held out the Blue Fire, now Abrum’s only recourse. “Once I have faced the Goron,” said Abrum, “I will return with you, Afton, son of Rankin, son of Orrin. But Asera goes free from this place, and you will give me your word not to pursue her or I will not help you. It is you, also, who needs me.”

Afton paused, considering the theif’s words. “I accept,” he said finally. “I am not so blind as to deny what you mean to Asera. Would that my love could be free as well. Go now! Your opponent awaits you.”

“But where do you go without the Cold Flame?” Abrum asked, taking the bottled fire. “Are you to abandon the effort now that you have bought your mercenary?”

“I will allow no other man to save my love. My path takes me within the caves. Should I fail, however, I need my assurance that the witch will not take the Dark Magic that lies hidden under this mountain. You have your part; I will do mine. Go!”

So Abrum nodded and turned, facing the great churning lake of fire.

“Goodbye, love,” said Asera, catching him and placing a kiss on his neck. “I will give you a wind to ride on. Go!”

And as she wove a new spell, a burst of wind came whistling through the tunnels of the mountain, raising Abrum from the ground and delivering him out into the open air above the caldera. Within moments the wind subsided and he was standing firmly on the island in the center of the lake of fire, facing his opponent with the calm ease of one confident in both his abilities and his will to prevail. He gripped the bottle of Blue Fire tighter in his hand. Raising his eyes to the Goron assailing the doors of the Fire Temple, Abrum realized who the Goddess of Cunning had sent.

“Darmon!” Abrum called. “Stand away from there, and face me. I have an old debt to settle with you, brother.”

The Goron ceased his pounding, and turned. “At last!” said the Sage of Fire, cracking his great rocky knuckles. “Then come and get your payment!”

* * *

Castle Town was quiet; empty. The townspeople had long since evacuated to the safer confines of Lon Lon Ranch, and there was no sound throughout the squares, the courtyard, or the alleys. Perfect, unblemished silence.

All except for a pair of boys arguing on the bridge. Each of them struggled for the other’s prize with much shouting, biting, shoving and mashing of faces. The moat of Hyrule Castle babbled at them, but they took no heed. They had their own argument to win.

“Oh, quit your whining, Vi, I’m sick of it!”

“But why did Red get to wear the Goron Mask?”

“Because you were too weak to take it from him! Now quit your squirming and put it on!”

“But what if I wanted to be the Zora?”

“Then it sucks for you, because I’m going to Lake Hylia, and the Zora’s Mask is the fastest way to get there.”

“You’re so full of it, Blue! You just don’t want to be a stupid Dekku Scrub!”

“You know, Vi, for once you’re right.”

“But you said I was right before…”

Finally, Blue gained dominance over the Dekku Scrub mask and planted it on Vi’s face, causing him to gasp involuntarily and cry out in evident pain as his body was suddenly encased in wood. Violet’s arms, legs and torso shrank while his head grew to outlandish proportions. His eyes finally curved into sad little orange crescent moons and his lips elongated until they resembled a wooden tube more than a mouth. His cap and hair ruffled up and became green leaf-like protrusions in the Dekku Scrub approximation of hair, and his infuriated shrieks also changed, becoming irate, unintelligible squeaks.

Blue did not censor himself for one moment, but burst out laughing at the spectacle.

“Now, that’s precious! Look at the widdle Dekku Scrubbie, such a precious boy he— Ow!” Blue reeled as Vi spit a hard nut at him, flashing with a bright light and knocking him backward. Blue staggered, lost his balance and stumbled to the ground, where he shook his head dazedly.

Vi took his chance and shoved the Zora Mask on Blue’s face. All at once, the scene of transformation repeated itself. But instead of Blue taking on the traits of a small wooden boy, his body elongated, covering itself in fine blue scales while long, stiff fins protruded from his elbows and head. After long moments of intense pain, Blue finally stood, splaying his fins indignantly. He was the spitting image of a lean, well-muscled Zora with a curling black sleeve tattoo on his right arm.

And for his first act in his new form, Blue planted a webbed foot in Vi’s wooden, tube-like face. “Quit screwing around! Do what you’re supposed to and get moving! Koroki Forest is farther than a day’s walk for a human and you need to get there before sundown tomorrow.”

Vi squeaked quizzically in response.

“I don’t know; fly! That’s your problem, not mine. Now get out of my way…”

But Blue clearly needed no permission. In two strides of his long legs he was at the edge of the bridge. The next moment he splayed his fins and dove directly into the water with nothing but a faint sploosh. After two flicks of his flippered feet he was out of sight beneath the rippling liquid.

Vi watched him go, rubbing his sore face forlornly. After another moment he sighed squeakily and then turned southward, embarking on his long journey one small step at a time.

Aw, Vi is so cute! Great job portraying Link's emotions as he argued with Zelda. Your discriptions are so intense and powerful; it makes me want to keep reading!

Keep up the great work!

Another intriguing chapter indeed. Cant wait for the next. And the retouches and additions you made on previous chapters flowed like a river making the story even better. Keep up the great work!

Chapter XI
AFTON and the WITCH

Link staggered back in wolf-fashion. “YOU let my mother die? You knew!? But why didn’t you do anything?”

“Because it is done, and therefore it has always been.” Orda was utterly calm, and for some reason this only infuriated Link more.

“What do you mean ‘it’s done’?” Link began to wonder why he ever trusted this mysterious shrouded woman. “You’re not really one of the Goddesses, are you? You couldn’t be! You can’t just have people killed whenever you want. The real Goddess of Time wouldn’t have let my mother die like that. She wouldn’t! Besides, how do I know there even is a real Goddess of Time?”

Orda did not speak immediately, but when she did it was tight-lipped and dripping with indignation. “Did not the princess Zelda speak of me?” she hissed.

“Well, yeah, but I never heard of you before that! Maybe that was just a story she knew and now you’ve read my mind and you’re just playing the part. If you’re really the Goddess of Time then why is it no one in Hyrule ever talks about you?”

Now the goddess stepped toward him. “Young Hero, I have warned you once before! You would do well not to question the motives or integrity of a Goddess!” The words shuddered through the Golden Land like an oath and Link heard the creatures of the forest chatter nervously. He felt as if his very existence were threatened; as if he could be unmade at any moment. He lowered his head for the second time and bent his tail between his legs. Orda sighed and clasped her hands together behind her, as if debating whether she should even continue speaking. She walked away a pace and for a moment Link thought she would leave him. Finally, the Goddess relaxed and he knew she would not.

Orda waited for Link to join her before she continued walking. He followed with deliberate deference. When she spoke again her voice was patient, yet firm. “For eons upon eons the same cycle has repeated itself. It is a pattern within a pattern that never ends. Balance is made up of many warps and wefts in the Great Fabric. Many things come to pass which cause pain and deny some the rights which are offered to all. This is necessary to protect Hyrule from those forces which otherwise would tear the Fabric apart.”

Link did not feel worthy of contradicting Orda, but this told him next to nothing. “What does that mean, though?”

“What you will understand is that what has happened to you—what happened to your mother—has happened before, and will happen again.”

“But…everything?”

“Yes.” Orda stopped. “And no. While time has a beginning and an end, it becomes something quite different when it ceases to exist; when it rises out of the great ocean like the cloud it is called ‘eternity.’ In the realms of the heavens, the tales that before were told with a beginning and an end are told throughout eternity as if they had always been and ever would be. It is when eternity falls like rain that time begins again and the Story lives once more.”

“But what story?” asked Link.

“I refer, Young Hero, to that tale which is told here in the Golden Land as it is told in Hyrule. It is the legend of that struggle which breaks one into many and causes many to become one. It is the Legend of Zelda, the Refiner, of which you, and I—and your mother—are a part. It tells of great evil, and sacrifice, and sorrow, as well as great courage, and growth, and joy. But none of these can exist without the others.

“Your mother knew this, and that is why she protected you, and died for you. For her sacrifice to be meaningful, you needed to remain safe after her death. That is why I permitted my servants to wound her and drive her away; so that you could be saved. Had I not, she would have perished in the war, and you with her.”

“Then,” Link began. “Then if you hadn’t driven my mother into the forest she would have been killed anyway?” Orda nodded. “And the only reason I didn’t die was because she got away…” Orda inclined her head reverently.

A profound understanding rooted itself in Link’s mind. More than this, his heart seemed to burst within him; for so long he knew nothing of the circumstances surrounding his mother’s death. And now, only now, did he feel at peace with it. For a long time he sat where he was, in the midst of the living trees, and cried great wolf-tears. And after he cried, he howled—howled at the shining moon, and mourned his mother’s passing.

And then his howls were not for himself or even for his mother’s death, but in her honor. He called out loud and long, telling the whole of the Golden Land, it seemed, what sacrifice his mother had made for him before she left Hyrule and the confines of time. He howled and howled again, as if telling her story to the eternal trees; the story they already knew.

* * *

“So what are we waiting for?” Link whispered.

The open plain had been quiet for some time. Link could see the light of the silver moon glint off the tips of the moblins’ spears ahead, just to one side of the road. They were hiding, waiting. But what were Link and Stranger there for?

“We are here to jog your memory, Link. Do you recall anything about the Golden Land?” Link could not see Stranger’s face, and the bald Sheikah man could not see his, but when Link was silent Stranger knew the answer to his question. “I see we will have a long path ahead of us.”

“But I don’t get it; what am I supposed to remember?” Link whispered back. “I was locked away in the Sacred Realm for seven years, but I was asleep the whole time. How am I supposed to remember anything about the Golden Land?”

“You were not asleep, Link. Come.” New tracks made themselves in the tallgrass as Stranger moved invisibly along the road away from the hidden moblin trio.

Link was only more perplexed by Stranger’s cryptic answers, but the curiosity and mystery of the moment overcame him and he followed anyway.

Some distance up the road, Link began to recognize the landscape. He noticed the tall standing stones that were now only utilized remedially to fence in the property of Lon Lon Ranch. Gaining his bearings, Link now looked to the north-west; far off in the distance were the walls of what he knew would be Castle Town, or what Castle Town would have been ten years ago by his reckoning.

“Hey!” Link said, halting where Stranger’s tracks stopped in the tallgrass. “This road leads to Hyrule Castle…and that way goes to Kakariko Village.” Link looked again, and sure enough he saw the somewhat less-used path that split from the road leading south. “And that way is Koroki Forest.”

“But it is not known by that name in this time,” said Stranger from under his invisible hood. “Read that sign.”

Link positioned himself at the fork in the road and turned to read the sign posted there. In easy-to-see painted letters it read: ‘Let the Wise Avoid the Forbidden Wood—Many Who Have Wandered Are Now Lost.’

“ ‘Forbidden?’ ” said Link quizzically. “If the moblins aren’t around, there really isn’t anything dangerous in the Koroki Forest. Why’s it forbidden?”

“Another question that will have to wait, young Master Stump,” said Stranger, parting the tallgrass in order to admit Link again. “Our wagon is coming and strictly speaking you’re not where you should be.”

“Oh, right,” Link admitted. It would look odd if a stump were to be found rooted in the middle of a road. Link crept back into the tallgrass where he would be less conspicuous. It was then that he heard the whinny of the horse and the creaking of the wooden wheels; a covered wagon was coming around the bend from Castle Town.

The wagon itself was non-descript enough, and the driver looked to be a sincere old man, if particularly ordinary, but what made this caravan exceptional was the presence of four mounted men riding on either side of the otherwise unimportant vehicle. The tunic of each mounted man was of a blue so deep so as to be almost black, and their eyes were shaded from the moonlight by the visors of their steel helmets, giving them a recluse, austere look. As they approached, Link noticed that each of them also wore a pendant around their necks.

“Are those…!?” Link gasped.

“The Four Royal Jewels, yes,” Stranger hissed. “Make no further sound or they will hear you, Master Stump—I think you already know the potential reaction of a Darknaught who believes his charge is threatened.”

“Then the king’s inside that wagon?” asked Link, heedless of Stranger’s admonition.

“No, but someone far more precious to you. Now be silent and watch!”

Link did so, and as he watched the wagon pass him by his heart was filled with excited anticipation; would the person inside come out? Could he manage to catch a glimpse of them before they were out of sight? But the wagon and its four stalwart guards progressed without notable event. It continued on calmly toward Kakariko Village and, Link realized, toward the hidden moblins, no doubt poised for the ambush.

Once the wagon was far enough away, Link ventured to speak. “We’ve got to do something! They’ll be attacked!”

“It is well that you realize this, Link. But I must pose the question; is it for you to decide what happens to the passengers of this wagon?”

“It is if I say it is!” said Link, and he removed the Stone Mask from his face, becoming visible once more. He might have charged off through the tallgrass if Stranger did not catch his arm in a firm grip. “Hey, what’s the big idea? Lemme go…!”

“No, Link,” said Stranger, removing his hood. “I can’t let you do that.” The robed man’s eyes were stern, fixed on Link’s as if it were a matter of life and death that the boy not intervene. Link’s brows came together and he tossed his hair to one side defensively.

“Fine. Then tell me who’s inside the wagon.”

Stranger paused, his eyes flicking from Link’s determined face to the retreating wagon. “Link, what you have to understand is—”

“That’s what I thought,” said Link, pulling his arm out of Stranger’s grip.

“Link, wait!”

But the robed man need not have said anything, for just at that moment a golden light ripped across the road like a great scar in thin air, shedding enough brilliant light to cast dancing shadows behind the caravan. The horses spooked, but the riders and driver handled their animals masterfully and the wagon came to an abrupt halt, the animals stamping on the hard-packed dirt. The golden scar widened and the riders immediately drew weapons seemingly from nowhere. The next moment the great tear opened like a mouth and a fierce beast leapt out, screeching and pouncing on the nearest of the guards with a ferocity to rival that of a Lizalfos warrior. Link could barely make out the form of the beast until it reared up and flapped its feathered wings; it had the head and forelegs of a bird of prey, and the hind legs and tail of a great cat.

After another moment a second beast pounced out of the jagged golden mouth—identical to the first except for a plume of feathers atop its head—slashing at the canvas of the wagon in great sweeping arcs. The two guards on that side of the wagon brandished their weapons, fending off the foreign animal.

Finally, a third beast slipped from the golden mouth like a flaming tongue, for it walked lower to the ground and was more serpentine in nature than the first two. It bore up its great reptilian head and gouts of golden flames erupted from its mouth, setting the surrounding tall-grass ablaze. Link recognized this creature as a fire-breathing dodongo.

Somewhere under the canvas of the wagon a baby cried out, and a frenzied woman shouted orders to the driver. He immediately unhitched the horse leading the wagon and held fast to the reins. Reaching his free hand up into the wagon, he helped her place one foot into the stirrup as she cradled a wad of green cloth in her arms. Once she was on the horse, however, both of the golden bird-cats immediately left the fray with their respective opponents and focused entirely on the woman. The bundle in her arms cried out.

Instinctively, Link dashed forward, but he was suddenly flattened to the ground; pinned under the robed man’s weight. “Get offa me! That woman and her baby are in danger! I’ve got to help them!”

“You can’t Link! You don’t know what you’re saying! This has already happened; this is meant to happen! It must happen, or…”

“Or what?” Link still fought to free himself from Stranger’s restraint. The bird-cats had dispatched the driver and were already leaping at the woman and her horse. They were only just held at bay by the guards. “You may have brought me here for something else, but now that I’m here I’m going to save her! Let me up!”

“And what are you going to do?” Stranger challenged. “You have no weapon.”

“I have the Fierce Deity’s Mask; that should be enough to take on those bird-things. I can handle a dodongo any day.” It was a battle between Stranger’s grip and Link’s dexterity and, steadily and surely, Link’s dexterity was winning over.

Stranger wrestled to keep whatever hold he had left on the boy. “Link, if you insist on making this mistake then I must tell you that this woman is—”

But his final words were not heard, for the woman screamed aloud and the baby cried out; one of the bird-cats had just gouged a claw deep into the woman’s leg. She did not hesitate any longer, but kicked her horse into full gallop and raced for the quickest and surest avenue of escape; the Forbidden Wood.

Link finally pried himself free and stood, reaching into his satchel to retrieve the Fierce Deity’s Mask. But as he did so, Stranger caught Link’s arm again, pinning it to his back where he could not make use of the god’s power.

“Let me go! I’m going to save them!” Link barked.

“You don’t want to fight these creatures, Link,” said Stranger’s voice close to his ear.

“And why not?” Link responded, unable to wrest his hand free.

“Because two of them are Impa’s parents.”

* * *

The inside of Goron City was positively rumbling with activity. But it was not the usual sort of digging, mining, or the occasional racing which normally occurred in the cavern, but another sort entirely; all of the Gorons were now being controlled by Sophia, the Goddess of Cunning, who took advantage of their starved condition to force them to roll to death, following after luscious illusory rocks.

All except Gor Daruni, that is. The Goron Chief stood an unwilling sentinel, guarding the entrance to the chief’s cave—where the Goddess had retreated for the moment—and the volcano beyond. The only others in the cavern were the four Sheiks and Impa, who currently wore her White Mask to avoid Sophia’s probing mental influence.

Impa watched the Sheiks with cautious attention. She walked around them slowly, her back straight and proud, maintaining her distance. They stood in the center of the cavern, unmoving, unturning, all facing outward, their eyes still bound with their face cloths. But it did not matter where she went, so long as any of the Gorons could see her, they could all see her. Well, she thought. I will simply have to disappear. And the next moment that is precisely what she did.

The Gorons still rolled, the cavern still hummed, but the Gor Daruni now scanned around the city with beady black eyes. He looked in every possible direction without shifting his feet and finally he spoke. Impa knew the words were not his, but those of the Shadow Goddess:

“You won’t escape, Impa. I have learned enough from Darmon to know that in your current form you do not have the physical strength nor the knowledge sufficient to escape behind a door that I do not know; and believe me when I say that I…”

But the Goron was cut short in his speech, for the very next moment there was a BOOM! which caused the very stone walls to shudder, sounding as if it had come from beyond the door to the chief’s cave. Gor Daruni collapsed to the ground, like a puppet when its master is absent. The other Gorons in the cavern slowed their hungry rolling, slower, yet slower, until one by one they stopped and sat up, shaking their heads. To Impa’s utter astonishment, even the Sheiks staggered, ostensibly freed from the mind control which held them bound. They grasped at their faces, evidently horrified that they should be uncovered so.

Impa was dumbfounded. Was this a trick? A ploy to catch her off guard? She took no risks, but remained invisible and snuck around the preoccupied Sheiks. As she passed them she took especial note of Guin’s expression; she did not know if she might ever see him without his face-wrappings now that he was aware of himself again. But why the Sheiks had regained themselves pressed itself more firmly on her mind and she approached the Goron chief cautiously, as if he might raise himself up at any moment and strike.

And she was wise for doing so, for Gor Daruni did precisely that. But he did not strike her. Instead he pounded on the door to his own cave with murderous intent until it broke inward…

* * *

The room was lit by four blazing braziers and furnished by little more than a pair of simple tables and a few stone seats (clearly for visiting humans, as they were too small to accommodate a Goron’s rocky bulk). On one end of the room was the stone slab that separated the cave from Goron City, and on the other was a tall carven totem which resembled a columnar Goron figure. Behind this totem was the entrance to the caldera of Death Mountain. Seated in one of the chairs, staring attentively at the totem opposite her, sat a red-haired woman of simple beauty. This was Anju, erstwhile housekeeper and attendant to the mayor of Kakariko; now yet another slave of the Goddess Sophia.

A child made of sticks paced around the chief’s cave, playing absent-mindedly with the trinkets she found there. Once, many days ago, this child was Solfe of the forest. But since that time she was possessed by a fine porcelain mask of a beautiful woman wearing a smug, smart expression, as if caught in the act of telling a truth which was meant to deceive. This was the mask of Sophia, the Goddess of Cunning.

Sophia sifted through a collection of rough-hewn gems littering one table. “Your man is outside you know, Anju.” She lifted a large purple chunk and peered through it at the fire burning in the brazier nearby. “He won’t succeed; I already hear him in my mind. And his is not so resilient as the Sheiks were. I will make short work of him soon enough…”

Anju was silent, watching the totem unblinkingly.

Suddenly Sophia turned her head toward the totem as well. “Ah, the knight has given the Sheikah whelp a bottle of cold fire. Ingenious, I will admit, but I won’t permit him to deter me for long.” Now she cracked her twiggy knuckles. “At last! Then come and get your payment!” And she pounded the floor of the chief’s cave to apparently no effect. “There. That should keep the whelp busy…”

Sophia now crossed the room to a tribal mask hanging on the wall. She folded her hands behind her, considering it as if it were an item in a museum.

“You know, I often wonder why you mortals even bother creating works that you know will not last. Such inefficiency and waste. Why not give yourselves to me willingly and become a part of my glory. Why, that would last forever!” And she laughed at herself, musing on the thought. “But yet you insist on fighting me. Fighting for the insubstantial, inconsequential… For inane ideals and emotions. Even now, I can see your mayor, Anju. She is attempting to rescue you, to stop me from obtaining the magic hidden within the mountain. And for what? To save beings that will die before they comfort her, who will betray her as soon as look at her, break her heart and undo what she has striven to protect. Is it not better to do away with these emotions and enter the void of cessation in service of something that will last for always? For what can endure but knowledge? And ensure that one endures more than others but the shrewd use of it?”

Now she turned toward Goron City, peering at the wall as if she could see what was happening beyond.

“You won’t escape, Impa. I have learned enough from Darmon to know that in your current form you do not have the physical strength nor the knowledge sufficient to escape behind a door that I do not know; and believe me when I say that I…”

But suddenly there was a noise that distracted her.

“No,” said Sophia, spinning around. “It can’t be!

BOOM!

The child of sticks was thrown back like a rag-doll as a terrific explosion utterly shattered the Goron totem into insignificant rubble. Anju suddenly blinked, fell forward in her stone seat and slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Then, from the cloud of dust that settled on the place, a figure emerged encased in a prism of blue magic which flickered and hummed, but did not die. Soon, the figure’s shape resolved; it was Afton, and in one hand he held his rapier, poised and threatening. In the other hand was the source of his unexpected advantage: a spell suspended in blue crystal by Great Fairy magic.

Afton did not speak, but peered through the dust until he found Anju’s unconscious form. Ensuring she had not sustained any serious wounds, he passed quickly over to the broken body of the stick-child Solfe, still wearing the mask of Sophia. Sophia twitched, but could not move her snapped limbs.

Afton regarded the mask with single-minded purpose. “You cannot invade my mind, Demon Witch. Not so long as I have the protection of Nayru’s Love.” The blue prism flickered yet brighter, and then returned to its constant humming. “Yet, this shield will not last forever, and I know I cannot destroy you. Were I to pull your mask away from this one’s body I know you would only claim another host until you achieve your ends or are prevented by one much stronger than I. Therefore, I intend to send you away; to prevent you from harming others as you have harmed my love.”

And sheathing his sword, Afton pulled yet another spell from his satchel. Sophia shook as Afton’s hand neared. Then he revealed the object that caused her to convulse so; a green crystal with a shimmering, swirling light within.

“This crystal contains Faroe’s Wind. It has been attuned to a very specific location; a range of mountains blighted with frigid temperatures and constant snow. I understand cold does not agree with porcelain. When the winds of this magic die you will find yourself far enough from civilization to prevent you from finding another host for perhaps a hundred years…provided your fragile state does not impede you from doing so.” Despite the stick child’s twisting, Afton succeeded in nestling the crystal inside Solfe’s smock. He stood and took a ceremonial stance.

“Fool!” Sophia shrieked. “Twice-cursed, half-rate magician!”

And before Afton could work his magic there was a pounding on the door of the chief’s cave. In another moment it cracked and broke inward, admitting a fearsome Gor Daruni into the room. Afton could not respond quickly enough; before he could even draw his sword, the Goron was upon him.

With Afton caught by surprise, Gor Daruni had already landed two fierce blows before Afton could react. Fortunately, the prism of blue light surrounding the knight absorbed the attacks entirely. But after a third blow of equal force the prism flickered, faded, and finally vanished. Looking at the crystal he still held, Afton saw that its internal glow was palpitating weakly. The knight immediately widened his stance, readying himself to take on the Goron’s brute strength.

“Daruni, you know me!” Afton called, redirecting the Goron’s massive fists. “Remember my face, trust my voice! The witch has you, but you are stronger!” The knight’s training and dexterity were only just enough to prevent him from taking head-crushing blows. But the close quarters of the cave and Anju’s prone form prevented him from truly opening up his counter-attacks and finally the Goron landed a sound strike on Afton’s chest. The knight was thrown back into the wall where the tribal mask was knocked from its place and clattered to the floor unceremoniously. Afton recovered just in time to dodge yet another blow, which struck the wall behind him instead, throwing chips of stone in all directions. Sophia could not move, but cackled with glee instead.

Afton rolled away, keeping his distance. “Daruni, you are chief of the proud Goron tribe!” he continued, ducking this way and that, avoiding the massive fists at all costs. “You serve your people and know the Hylia, of which race I am!” At last the volcano’s heat began to invade the room, making the battle even more taxing. But Afton would not be daunted. “I am Afton, your friend and companion in the guarding of this mountain, your home! As knight of the Royal Guard I am one of many sworn to keep watch at the entrances to the paths which lead to Goron City, your city!” Finally, he struck out with an open palm, striking the Goron on his stiff leathery face. “Daruni, hear me and cease your attacks!”

The Goron blinked, pausing for only a moment. Afton wasted no time, but wove his hands in the air, sweeping them over his head in deliberate motions, and then there was the rushing sound of a strong wind. Sophia called out, cut short in her revelry, for swirls of green magic enveloped the masked child with the force of a miniature whirlwind. Instantaneously, she was gone, leaving only thin splinters where she had been moments before.

Gor Daruni blinked again, then staggered, leaning against the wall of living stone.

“What? Brother, how…?” He lifted a massive, rocky hand to his head languidly. “So hungry… Oh…” he moaned. And the Goron fainted where he stood.

When he was certain the Gor Daruni would not move again, Afton’s body relaxed. Finally replacing the blue crystal in his satchel, he took up Anju’s unconscious form delicately in his arms, resting her ginger head on his chest. She made a sound, then, and he heard her voice, so distant, so feeble…

“Mistress Impa? Am I dreaming…?”

“It’s alright, love,” said the knight, turning to the hole that stood gaping in the side of the cave. He kissed her hair. “You are safe, now.” And as he stepped over the remains of the Goron totem he said a prayer of pleading: “Flow gently, sweet Nayru… Disturb not her dream…”

* * *

The battle had waxed long and Abrum was becoming weary, despite his aid from the magical Blue Fire. Gor Darmon was quick and his expert rolling had nearly caught the thief off guard multiple times. But now Abrum saw a flaw in the Goron’s technique:

“You’re tiring, Darmon! Admit it!” said Abrum, pausing to catch his breath.

Darmon stopped some distance away on the isolated island, unfolding. He rose wearily to his feet. “Where… Where am…I?” he stammered. “Abrum… Brother, is that you…?” He staggered closer.

“That won’t work on me, witch! I know a ploy when I see one, and you’re baiting me; lulling me into a false sense of security.” Abrum backed away, clearly in as much condition to continue fighting as the Goron was.

“No, Abrum, it’s me…Darmon. Please, help me… So hungry…” And the Goron collapsed, only just holding himself up on one elbow.

Abrum peered at his opponent judiciously. Then he considered the bottle of Blue Fire in his hand. “Then you want something to eat, do you, witch? Then I will give you something to eat…” And boldly, the thief approached the languid Goron, now lolling to one side, his exhaustion evident.

“The springwater…” began Darmon. “The springwater has worn off, brother… The witch no longer has me… I am just...very hungry…”

Abrum stood over the stone man triumphantly. “Yes, of course. And if I do not take advantage of this respite you will surely show some reserve of power you have hidden up somewhere.” And he shoved his fist into the Goron’s mouth, plunging the bottle of magical flames deep into Darmon’s throat. Extracting his hand, he clamped the Goron’s mouth shut. “Here is your reward for what you did to Impa, witch. With the loss of your chief puppet, you will never have the hidden magic you crave. Now eat your words!” And with a well-placed strike to the neck, the Goron was induced to swallow the bottle whole.

“Wh-why are you doing th-this, brother? Do not…don’t…”

And for one infinitesimal moment, Abrum’s expression softened. But as quickly as the emotion entered him, it was pushed aside, overcome by that part of him who wished ill for his sister’s killer. “I can’t forget; I won’t. First my parents and now my sister… Mudora sent them on that fool’s errand, convinced them to sacrifice themselves for a fool’s boy he said would be a hero. Well, where is that hero now Darmon? He was not there to stop my parents from willingly entering the Golden Land—that cursed place where many have entered and none return. Mudora said their errand was to protect him. But who protected them from his madness? I did. It was I that killed Mudora, Darmon, not some knight’s brat!” And he spat on the island of stone, the spittle sizzling where it landed. Suddenly, the heat caught up to the thief and he swooned.

“Not yet!” he commanded, and he forced himself to endure the dizziness, endure the fatigue which now, too, setting into his muscles. “No, Darmon, the hero was not there when my Impa was endangered, was he? When my sister—my little sister—was killed by the witch, where was the hero my master swore to me would come to protect Hyrule!?”

“He was…”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, don’t you understand!? You may be weak now, but in time she will feed you up and take the Fused Shadow for herself, and there will be no hero to prevent her. She will win! If I don’t kill you she will have one more puppet to fulfill her purposes…”

“But she is gone, Abrum…”

Abrum only looked on the Goron with pity. “Goodbye, Darmon. I am sorry, brother.”

And the thief fell on Darmon’s belly with all his remaining strength, striking into the leathery hide with the point of a precisely aimed elbow. Darmon’s body convulsed as the bottle inside him shattered, spreading the Blue Fire first through his innards, then pouring out of his mouth, the magical fire freezing him from the inside out in seconds. When the flames finally subsided Gor Darmon remained where he was, dead.

And before he, too, fell still, Abrum heard two words; distant, yet distinct.

“…my love…!”

* * *

“NO!!! My love, no!” Asera called. Immediately, she wove her wind spell and in moments she was beside him at the center of the caldera knowing full well that she, too, would share his fate in a matter of short minutes. But she did not have room for reason, now. She only had a mind to save the man she loved more dearly than life.

Abrum would not respond. His spectacles had half-fallen from his face. Asera removed the Lens and tucked it carefully in her robe without even thinking of what she was doing—she was more occupied with discovering a way, any way, that she could regain the height of the ledge with Abrum’s body in tow. Descending from a great height and surviving was one thing; her magical wind could cushion the fall. But to carry two people aloft was beyond her imaginings. Only a bird could fly her love away from that living hell…

A bird…

She searched her memory, her orange eyes flickering like the sheen on a peacock’s feather. Had not the owl been borne aloft on the very fume that rose from the volcano? She immediately began her incantation, forming in her mind the thing she desired most; that which would bear her and her love away from danger.

It was a surprisingly complex spell to weave. More than once she could feel her concentration shaking, deadened by the ever-threatening exhaustion that crept over her like a malicious blanket. More than once she doubted herself and her spell nearly failed, but this time she could not fail—she must not! Finally, the last thoughts of power were in place and Asera threw her arms outward, casting the spell that would allow them to leave that place. Instantly, two great leathery wings made of the deepest darkness grew from her back, all traced over with blue lines at right angles. She flexed her new appendages, finding them full of power.

Hurriedly, she bore up Abrum’s body on her shoulders, cursing herself for not adding a magic word or two for strength. But her own strength served her well enough, and with belabored steps she caught up the air in her new wings and lifted them both into the air, riding the great updrafts in circles, flying further and further away from danger, further from death, further from the caldera of Death Mountain and the Sage of Fire who remained frozen there…

* * *

“Halt! Stop in the name of the king of Hyrule!”

The thief-witch stopped short in the air, landing without the caldera where she laid Abrum’s body carefully on the mountainside. To her relief he was still breathing. She folded her magical wings and almost instantly they dissipated, bursting apart into little cube-like forms. Only then did Asera look around her for the source of the commanding voice. Nearby was the owl, perched atop a large sign, dozing quietly. On her other side was the mound of stalagmites Asera knew to be Biggoro, the largest of the Gorons. But he, too, was ostensibly asleep.

“You are under arrest, thief, and your accomplice with you,” said a trilling baritone. And Kaepora opened one of his great round eyes.

“Who is using my voice?” asked the owl curiously. But the next instant a ghostly Mudora appeared on the mountain path before Asera and the owl closed his eye again. “Ah, yes, I remember now…”

But for Asera, this only raised more questions than it provided answers.

“Please; I don’t know who you are, or if you are even of this world, but help me. This man is Abrum, my love. He was overcome by the heat of the volcano. He needs medical attention, quickly.”

“I cannot do that,” answered the sage. “I am bound by the decree of the king of Hyrule. You must both come with me.”

Asera’s eyes turned fierce. “I will not let you take Abrum only to lock him away! And the king’s lieutenant assured me that I would not be taken from here. Or are the promises of the Hylia of no worth?”

“I am under the same order as the lieutenant, witch, and while I cannot speak for the lieutenant, I made you no such promise. Now you will come with me willingly or I will have Master Kaepora carry you to a suitable place of holding until…” But the sage’s attention was drawn away from the sorceress. Abrum was beginning to stir.

“My love?” Abrum muttered, opening his eyes. Without the Lens he saw only the sheen of Asera’s coppery hair framing the blur of her white face, smiling gladly back at him.

“Yes, love, I’m here,” Asera cooed in her strange voice. She kissed his cheek gently. “I thought I’d lost you again…”

“Never,” Abrum assured her, touching her cheek. He coughed, but quickly recovered. “With you to find me I could not become lost even if I tried.”

The ghostly Sage cleared his throat. This caught Abrum’s notice. He sat up. “Who is it?”

“I am who I am, Abrum of the Sheikah,” the sage trilled.

Abrum’s mouth hung open. “It can’t be… Master…?” For a long time the thief peered at the hazy ghost-like image in wonder. “Is this some dream-phantom, Asera? Do you see what I see?”

“I know not what to believe, Abrum,” she said. “But as surely as I see him, whoever he is, he means to deliver us to the king.”

The sage seemed to fight within himself for a moment. Finally: “It has been long since I have seen you, Abrum. Would that the circumstances were different…”

Abrum could not see the sages eyes, but he could not help but turn away. “Yes. It seems we both are different men now, Master. Time is a fickle thing which tears down and builds up all at once.” The thief exhaled, and then fought back another set of coughs. “I am not sorry for avenging the death of my parents… But I am sorry for my rashness and rage. You did not deserve to die; you believed what you did what right. Would that I could have told you while you were yet alive how I respected you. Would that things had been different…” Then Abrum reached up to catch Asera’s hand. On each of their third fingers were the rings Abrum took from the bazaar in Kakariko Village. “But I am not displeased with where time has taken me. Asera and I are happy together. If we were not, I might have died thrice over for my stupidity.”

“For your bravery,” Asera amended, resting her other hand on his shoulder.

“I cannot regret the past,” Abrum added. “It is done, and therefore it has always been. Did you not tell me these words, Master?”

The sage did not answer, but rather the owl said: “Yes, Abrum, my son. I did tell you these words.” Kaepora flapped his wings with great gushes of air and hopped from the sign to the mountain path. “Though you did not know me when I arrived in the volcano, I knew you, son. Wisely did you say that time has changed us. It has torn you down to your errant state, and built me up into a new creature. But I abide by what I wrote to you in my message before my death. You will ever have your place beside me, son. I know you for who you wish to be; though your passions draw you into foolishness, your heart is no less valiant in the cause that it chooses for its own. Especially when that cause is the protection of those you love.”

Abrum could not believe his senses. Truly this enormous owl spoke like his master, but how could he be certain? “Master, your words strike my heart aright, but your form… If you are my Master then who is this imposter?”

“I am no imposter, Abrum,” the sage replied, “I merely did not contradict you when you called me ‘Master.’ I, too, abide by what I said. It has been a long time since I have seen you, and I would that the circumstances were different…” And the ghostly figure lifted a hand to its face and pulled away.

Asera gasped, and her face hardened. “You!”

* * *

The Zora sentry tapped his staff ceremoniously on the stone floor of Zora Hall. Over the gushing of the Great Waterfall, the sentry delivered his message: “We’ve received intelligence that an enemy lurks near the Temple of Water, my king.”

“Of what nature?” said King Zora, folding forward on his throne squishily.

“Unknown, my liege. Reports suggest that it may be one of the Shadow Gods, but this is unconfirmed.”

“Krelian,” the Zora king said, turning to his chief of guard. “Take a battalion of your finest sentries. Ensure this enemy does not infiltrate the Temple of Water. If there are no signs without, search within. We cannot afford to be prideful and suppose that our defenses will protect us.”

“Yes, majesty,” said Krelian, and with two taps of his spear a number of sentries around the Hall stepped into synchronous motion, diving into the spring which fed all the waters in Hyrule. One by one, with Krelian at their head, they leapt out past the falls, through the air high above the mountainous lakes of the Domain, finally passing with expert precision through the surface of the lake below. Once there, still others joined them, until there was a force of Zora sentries at least a hundred strong.

Down, deeper and deeper into the lake they swam, flicking their webbed feet with utter efficiency, maximizing their speed for the effort, and in little time they were all entering the network of underwater caverns that would grant them admittance to the shores of Lake Hylia.

The Domain was moving.

So much happened in this chapter! Wow...the scene with Stranger and Link really struck me when he said, "Two of them are Impa's parents." And then in the Goron City with Afton and Sophia, along with the moving of Zora's Domain. Amazing job, once again!

Keep up the great work!

Epic chapter man! When Abrum....and Gor Darmon.....!!!! oh man, I could practically feel the blue fire spreading in my own body. Also the beginning with Link in the golden land was well written, I really enjoyed how you set up "The Legend of Zelda" I didnt like it at first but the more I thought of this as a book with no previous knowledge of Zelda the more I appreciated it. Looking forward to the next chapter!

Chapter XII
FALLING STARS

It was true; there was no time in that golden place, for when Link was done baying out the tale of his mother’s sacrifice the moon had not moved and not a star had turned in the sky. And Orda was still there, and Link was still bereft of his father, and mother, and he was still but a wolf-boy without his charge.

“Mistress Orda?” Link thought finally.

“Yes, boy?” she replied kindly.

“Who is Zelda? The one you mentioned, I mean. She’s not the one I know, is she?”

“No. She is not a princess; more a queen, if anything. Zelda was the true name of your Goddesses before they were broken. More appropriately, it is the name of that Goddess from whom I withdrew myself so that they could be broken.”

This was simply impossible; surely Orda could not be stronger than the three golden goddesses of Hyrule. “You did that?” thought Link. “Why would you break the Goddesses apart?”

Orda knelt and rested a hand on Link’s furred head. “I did not break them, child; Dragma the Conquerer was he who assailed Zelda and broke her to pieces. I simply did not oppose him.”

“But…but how could that happen?” How could anything shatter a goddess? Link wondered.

Orda sighed, stroking the wolf-boy along his back. “Are you certain you wish me to unfold this mystery to you? I suppose I have revealed it to you before, but as you do not remember you have another opportunity to choose. If I reveal this secret to you, your whole perception of the heavens would change and you would be bound to reveal it to none. Can you be at peace with that?”

Link looked around him. He did not consider it any great temptation to reveal secrets to squirrels or peahats. “Yes, tell me. I want to know.”

Orda stood. “Very well.” And for the third time their surroundings changed on their own. The world shifted around them in seemingly random patterns—one tree moving this way and the occasional stone moving that way, the ground sinking away on the one side and raising up on the other—until Link and the Goddess stood on the edge of an outcropping overlooking some part of the forest Link had never seen before.

Link had no time to think—the next moment the heavens opened to him and every star in the sky of liquid gold began falling. Faster and faster they came, shooting around the boy and the goddess with such speed that it seemed the stars were not falling, but the Golden Land itself was travelling through the vastness of space. Finally, there were no more stars, only the great moon, which was now so large that it covered the sky like a canopy. And on this canopy shapes began to form, telling the story to Link’s eyes while Orda narrated:

“I will tell you the tale of Maya, the One, and may it satisfy your curiosity…”

* * *

Link paused. “What do you mean ‘Impa’s parents’?”

But Stranger did not answer. Instead there were the rushed notes of a hasty melody, a swirl of green lights and Link was carried away over the vastness of Hyrule. His body reformed itself at the base of a thick tree, where he nearly stumbled over an enormous curling root. Stranger was there to steady him.

Link jerked his arm away from the bald Sheikah man. “Lemme go! Take me back, now! You can’t stop me from saving those people. Take me back!”

“No, Link. I won’t do that. Now please, calm yourself.” Stranger sat on the ground cross-legged and closed his eyes. He draped the folds of his red cloak in his lap and rested his hands in the center.

Glancing around, all Link could see were walls of living stone capped by an arboreal fence. A subtle mist hid the deeper forest from his gaze and so he turned back toward Stranger. Link folded his arms, waiting for the man to move. But he did not. “Fine. Then if you’re not going to help me I’ll get there myself.” He stomped off through the leaves.

“I wouldn’t,” said Stranger.

Link waved a hand in Stranger’s direction. “There you go with your wouldn’t stuff. Why not?”

“Because it would change the future. Your future.”

“Whatever! I’ve changed the future before, pal. I know what I’m doing!” And he stomped off again.

“That woman was your mother.”

Link froze. “What?”

“The woman from the wagon. She is your mother.” Stranger inhaled deeply and lowered his face. For a moment Link thought he might fall asleep.

He couldn’t just stop like that! What did he mean the woman from the wagon was his mother? Link reached out to shake the man, but then withdrew, reconsidering. He studied the curious Sheikah, from his hairless head to the single-teared eye embroidered on his chest. Despite how much he did not know about this man, Stranger had no cause to mislead him. As he considered what Stranger had said, Link decided that it was probably not a lie; the woman was likely his mother. Then another realization struck him.

“Then that baby in the green clothes was…”

“You, Link,” Stranger replied, still meditative.

“And she was saving…me,” said Link softly. He found, despite himself, that his vision was blurring. His face felt cold against the hot tears that escaped his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is she… Is she dead?”

“Not yet,” Stranger replied. “But she will die, as she must. Her sacrifice must happen, or you would not be what you are. Believe me, Link. You can trust me.”

Link’s knees suddenly lost their power and he sank to the ground, leaning forlornly against an enormous root. He removed his green cap and ran his fingers through his fine, blond hair, pondering this declaration of his mother’s fate. His eyes could not focus, but stared unseeing through the carpet of huge oak leaves that covered the ground.

“What are we doing here?” Link finally said. “What did you bring me here for; just so I could watch my mom die? What are you, some kinda sick, twisted—?”

“No, Link. I am neither sick, nor twisted.” Finally, Stranger opened his eyes. “If anything I am somewhat stretched, but I cannot complain. My responsibilities are what they ever have been, and I do the work of my Goddess joyfully, knowing that it will save Hyrule from a terrible fate. You and I are very similar, you know.”

Link was taken aback, clearly unconvinced.

“You will not recognize me, of course, but I knew you, once. I did not realize what I was, then…”

Then Link peered at the man more closely. But Stranger’s eyes shifted nervously and he stood, brushing the crushed leaves from his robes. Presently, a sound could be heard drifting through the trees, creeping into Link’s memory like the midnight fog.

“That’s Saria’s song,” said Link, and he listened attentively; as if the song might teach him something he had yet to learn. “I’d recognize it any—” But yet another realization entered Link’s mind, for looking up into the high, wide branches of the tree where he sat, Link remembered where he was. “We’re in the Koroki Forest, aren’t we?”

“Forbidden Forest, actually…”

Link ignored this. He was far more interested in the enormous tree. “Father Dekku?” Curiously, the ancient tree had no face to speak of…or speak with, for that matter. Link’s brows came together. “What happened to him?”

“Nothing,” Stranger replied perplexedly, scanning the tree for defects. Then: “Ah. You are perhaps referring to the fact that he has no face… You will find it on the other side, Master Stump.” Stranger smiled.

Link’s eyes narrowed. “Right. Thanks.” Sure enough, as Link rounded the enormous tree, climbing over its equally enormous roots, Link discovered the face he remembered so well. On this side, he could hear the tree’s voluminous breathing, like a steady wind through a wooden tunnel. Father Dekku’s gargantuan eyes were closed; for the moment the Great Tree was asleep.

Saria’s song was closer, now.

Link started as Stranger’s voice spoke beside him, disembodied once more. “I am sorry, Link, but I will have to ask that you put the Stone Mask on again. There is something you need to witness, and I cannot allow you to be seen. If you please.”

Link took one more longing glance at the only father he ever really knew. It was good to see him alive again, even if for one last time. Finally, he took the Stone Mask out of his satchel and fixed it to his face. He appeared, very appropriately, to be a stump rooted in the ground beside his Father Dekku. It happened none too soon, for a Koroki child emerged from the fog at the entrance to the Dekku Tree’s clearing. Saria’s song stopped, and the child lowered an ocarina from her mouth.

“That’s Saria!” Link whispered.

“Yes,” Stranger shushed. “Watch.”

And behind the child came the same woman Link had seen before, still riding the cart-horse. Only this time he knew her for who she was; his mother. And he gasped at her beauty.

She was clothed in a simple white nightgown, all but for a great pool of dingy red that ran down her thigh. Link noticed that she had brown hair; he had never thought of it before, but there it was, more real than any of his imaginings. In her arms she held a bundle of green clothing, but she swooned terribly and more than once the bundle looked as if it might slip from her unfeeling hands.

Saria stepped forward and a little ball of light emerged from somewhere around her head. “Father,” said the fairy, “I have brought you the child and its mother.”

* * *

“Abrum, get behind me! It’s the witch!”

“What?” Abrum squinted. “But Asera, she’s too tall…”

“She is playing at being your sister to catch us off guard!”

“Impa!?” Abrum did not move. “Asera, give me the Lens.”

Asera was struck. “You can’t sincerely believe that this is—”

“The Lens,” Abrum repeated forcefully. “It will tell me the truth.”

Finally, the sorceress acquiesced. Reaching into her robes, she drew out the spectacles and handed them to Abrum, always keeping her orange eyes on the woman who had just removed the mask from her face. The woman just stared back, unblinking.

“Wait,” said Asera, halting Abrum before he could place the spectacles on his face. “Even if you see who you think you will see, Abrum, how are we to know that the witch is not orchestrating this whole scene, deluding us? You may not hold the Lens in your hands, but an illusion created to make you think you are. You will think you are looking at the truth, when you are only seeing what she wants you to see. And there is only one way we can dispel the illusion; we must kill her.”

Abrum hesitated, now looking toward the enormous owl that still stood to one side. “You are right, Asera. How else could I have been convinced that this creature was my old Master? Yes, how convenient indeed, that I should happen upon an enormous owl. My master kept an owl when he was alive. But surely you knew that, didn’t you witch?” He tapped his temple with a finger. “We are on to your game. I know these will no longer help me.” And he tossed the spectacles to one side. They landed beneath the sign, near the mouth of the cavern. “You killed my sister. And I will have my vengeance. You have made the first move by drawing me and my love into your trap. So it begins.”

Abrum spread his stance, readying his remaining strength for the battle of his life. Asera matched him, drawing out her remaining magic which crackled along her arms like orange electricity. Kaepora hooted anxiously.

“I will not fight you,” said the woman.

“Then die where you stand, witch,” Asera hissed, and her arms flew out to cast her spell.

Impa narrowly dodged the crackling orange bolt. But as she moved, Abrum darted out with his fists, ready to take advantage of her off-balance. Impa responded to this as well, deflecting his blows and pinning his fists to his chest, proving every second to be the highly trained Sheikah bodyguard she was. Abrum redoubled his efforts, convinced the witch was copying the Sheikah style to counter him. Impa was prepared for him yet again, and so the battle continued, the siblings locked in a flurry of fists, stiff fingers and narrow escapes. Asera swore; the melee offered her no chance for a clear shot.

When he saw that his Sheikah training was proving fruitless, Abrum reverted to the experience he gained in the Gerudo Training Grounds. Shaking out his limbs, he began jabbing and hooking with a style that was less precise, but looser and more powerful. Impa was forced to fall back in order to counter him, and soon she was dangerously close to the edge of the mountain, at least fifty feet from the ledge below.

“Hold her there, love; let me finish her!” Asera recharged her magic, ready for another bolt.

“Stop!” cried a new voice. “What are you doing!?” Asera turned, taken by surprise. In the opening of the cave-mouth stood Afton bearing a red-haired woman in his arms. “Abrum, that is your sister! Do you harbor such hatred that you would be willing to destroy her in the name of the vengeance you seek?”

“It is the knight, love!” cried Asera.

Abrum held his opponent’s hands to her chest. “Ah, quite convenient indeed! What would you know of my vengeance, so-called knight? In fact, how am I to know that you have not always been the manifestation of the witch, drawing me further into your trap? Who did I kill in the belly of the volcano, then? Ganondorf himself?”

“No, Abrum,” said Afton. He rested Anju on Kaepora’s back. The great owl bore her up easily. “You’ve murdered Gor Darmon, the late Sage of Fire, Din praise him. I sent you there to delay him, not to kill him!”

Asera snarled. “Yes, and I suppose you plan on rescinding your promise now and take us both in, will you?” Her magic crackled, gaining intensity. There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes, but she recovered herself and managed the mounting power. “You will not deceive us again.”

“I do not deceive you,” said Abrum, tightening a harness around Anju’s legs, “that woman is Impa of the Sheikah. The witch is now many miles from here, suffering under the weight of extreme cold. I sent her there myself.”

“A likely story,” Abrum rebutted.

Now the owl spoke. “Abrum, son, I told the knight of your quest for vengeance. You need not think him deceitful. This woman is indeed your sister. You would be wise to give her heed.”

“Kaepora,” said Afton, “I am indebted to you for everything, but it would be best if you took Anju away from here. Keep her safe, will you?”

“My honor, Master Knight. To be of aid is my fondest wish. We shall away.” And hopping once, then twice, the enormous owl was out in the open air, his wings spread wide, Anju securely fastened to his back. In another moment they were only a dark shape in the sky.

“Thank you for staying, Afton,” said Impa, only avoiding a treacherous fall due to her masterful sense of balance, “but this battle was never yours. I will give my brother his vengeance, if he still desires it.”

“You know I would never allow harm to come to those who serve the royal family, Impa,” Abrum said, priming his rapiers in their sheaths.

“Your honor shall remain intact, Master Knight,” Impa replied. “You will understand that he is my family, criminal though he is. I am reluctant to leave my duty unfulfilled in bringing him to justice, yet I cannot deny my own flesh. Abrum sincerely wishes to avenge me, and so to honor me. I must allow him this.”

Afton glanced between the Sheikah siblings and the Gerudo sorceress, now visibly straining to maintain her control over her magic. Afton released his grip on his swords and backed away, keeping watch on Asera.

Abrum was now clearly unsettled. He considered what had just transpired, maintaining his firm grip on the woman who claimed to be his sister. This was all too natural to be a well-concocted illusion; too sincere for a diversion; too indirect for a Goddess who might easily convince them they were still within the volcano and suffering from heat stroke. Did he not sense a connection with the great owl within the volcano? Had not the Blue Fire actually sustained Abrum in the heat of the caldera? These, at least, were not an illusion...

Then Impa spoke. “If you should choose to kill me in the name of vengeance, Abrum, I will not oppose you; then I am both avenged and dead as you suspect. But if you will release your heart from the shackles of remorse and wrath, you will lose your pride but gain your sister. Whatever your choice, dear brother, know that I forgive you.” Impa’s red Sheikah eyes stared honestly into Abrum’s own, still glazed over with the haze of blindness. “I forgive you…”

Abrum squinted, trying desperately to see what he knew he could not. “Impa?” he said tentatively, maintaining a firm grip on the woman. “Impa, are you truly alive?”

“Yes, Abrum. It is I.”

Meanwhile, Asera looked to be struggling with her magic; it was shorting and arcing from one arm to another. Asera seemed more frightened than anything, but she quickly settled on rage when she remembered her opponents were watching her.

“What are you doing to me, witch? Release me from this curse or I will unleash all of my power on you! Abrum, stand clear, I will handle this imposter.”

“No,” said Abrum. And to the surprise of all, the thief pulled his sister away from the ledge. “No, Asera; put away your magic. I will not allow my honor to be questioned when this knight can deny his duty to allow me the vengeance I desire. Not when my sister welcomes her death and forgives me despite it.”

“But she is playing you, Abrum!” And the bolts of electricity snapped menacingly.

“To what end? Did you not tell me ‘the truth can easily deceive if it is not fully understood?’ Just as the witch made me believe you were dead once, so she caused both of us to believe that Impa had been defeated. No, I do not need a magical Lens to know that this is woman is my sister. I go with the knight according to our agreement. Please love, save your magic and flee this place without me.”

Asera hesitated. “Abrum, I can’t.”

And the truth was frightfully evident. The sorceress was now engulfed in great jagged bolts of energy, arcing from the tips of her fingers to the ground in sharp, popping bursts. “Abrum the spell has gone wrong! I’m so sorry love, I can’t stop it!” And soon the orange light engulfed her from within, lighting up her black-and-white body with an unnatural glow. She cried out in evident pain as a single arm of energy darted out of her, then another, and another, each of them writhing like tentacles. “Abrum, my love, do something!” And she fell to the ground, convulsing violently.

And with the determination of a man whose world was about to disintegrate before his very eyes, Abrum rushed to Asera’s side, heedless of the snapping orange bolts, heedless of the pain that shot into his limbs as he gripped Asera’s hand. “Let it go, Asera! Release the magic into me!”

“No!” she screamed. “You’re too weak! You’ll die! I—”

“Do it, NOW!!”

And releasing herself wholly to the flow of the pulsing energy, Asera shrieked in utter pain, pouring the shadow magic out of herself and into Abrum’s body. Overcome by the intensity of the coursing surge, Abrum’s spine snapped to, his taut muscles holding him rigid as the thick arms of energy wrapped him in an agonizing embrace. And he screamed.

Afton stepped forward boldly.

“No, Abrum, you must not approach,” said Impa. “The magic is far too great; you will only be consumed with them. Their fate is with the Goddesses now.”

Only when all of the magic had passed out of the sorceress did she lay still on the height of the mountain, tossing to and fro senselessly. But still the crackling energy could not be contained in Abrum’s body. It shot into the air, slamming the mountainside with ever-thickening bolts. And where it struck, Impa saw the magic dissipate harmlessly.

“Into the mountain!” Impa cried. “The ore of the mountain is accepting the magic! Abrum, release it into the mountain!”

Despite the pain wracking his senses, Abrum understood. He bent against his muscles and placed both hands on the stone of the mountain, willing the magic to pass out of him. Immediately, the thinner arms of magic unified with the greater ones until there were seven huge arches sprouting from the thief and passing into the thirsty stone. In moments, the magic dissipated and Abrum lay beside Asera, vapor rising from their bodies as a testament to the discharge of magic that had just occurred. Afton and Impa approached cautiously.

“Sweet Nayru,” said Afton, awed by the scene, “he’s been charred…”

“No,” said Impa, turning Abrum over gently. “It is his skin.” And surely, Abrum’s appearance had changed drastically.

Abrum’s skin was now wrapped all over with great swoops of white and black. His white-blond hair had turned to copper. But his transformation was more than skin-deep; even his features had been altered. Now his face was longer, narrower. His brow and the bridge of his nose formed a flat surface, tapering down to a narrow set of nostrils. This, along with the extreme angle of his long, tapered eyes made Impa think of a snake. What was more; his languid eyes were no longer clouded with blindness, but glowed brightly with an orange brilliance.

And much to Impa’s relief, he was still breathing. She checked his body for signs of trauma, then his pulse. Drawing back, she gasped.

Afton joined her. “Is he…?”

“No,” she said, placing a pair of fingers under Asera’s chin, where her pulse was. “They are the same; their blood is pumping faster, and there is less of it, but it is saturated with the magic of the Fused Shadow, which now sustains them more than any other force. The shadow magic must have the power to transform any who channel it… Now they are perfect companions; there are no two like them in all of Hyrule.”

Afton took this in. “Impa, you know what we must do now…”

“Yes,” murmured the Sage. Impa rose to her feet and considered the pair judiciously. “My heart is torn Afton. I know not what to do…”

“You do not wish him further harm,” the knight offered.

She nodded silently. “I wish I were not bound to deliver him up to the Council of Sages.”

“Impa, Abrum willingly agreed to come into my custody, but I conceded to let Asera leave this place. Though I know you must convict her, I will not. As for Abrum, I have given him my word; he will have a fair trial. I will see to it personally.”

“Thank you, Afton. I…” But a sound reached Impa’s ears and she stopped dead. “Oh, no…” she whispered, and she suddenly animated. Drawing her White Sage mask from her satchel, Impa became the ghostly image of Mudora. “Biggoro!” she called out to the mass of stalagmites, still rising and falling rhythmically. “Biggoro, wake up! You must flee!”

There was a deep rumbling and Abrum saw the rocky shape of the enormous Goron as he raised himself up from his great hole in the mountain. Biggoro grunted his deep-throated greeting and Impa called out again:

“You must flee this place; a great star from the heavens is coming! Save yourself! Flee!”

“Fffllleeeeee?” said the enormous Goron dazedly.

“Yes, Biggoro,” said Impa’s ghostly voice. “There is magic in the mountain; it is pulling a star from the sky. It comes even now!”

Afton stepped forward. “What is it Impa? What’s happening?” But before she could respond, Afton saw it—like a vision of some unreal future: far off on the eastern horizon a great meteor screeched through the vastness of the sky, burning as it swept through the virgin heavens like a fiery stain on blue silk. Nearer and ever nearer it came, gaining speed with every rapid moment.

Impa turned to the knight, clutching him by his tunic. “Afton, have Biggoro carry you and my brother. I will take Asera away from here. Swear to me you will preserve Abrum!”

“On my honor, Lady,” said Afton, and Impa knew she could have no greater assurance. In another moment Impa had pressed something to Asera’s face and two white streaks swooped away from the mountain peak. Now only Afton and Abrum remained.

Afton kneeled beside the foreign thief. “Abrum, get up! You must get up! Biggoro, take us in your hand! Take us away!”

“Aaawwwaaayyy…” said the Goron, and an enormous hand reached down, cupping itself beside the knight. In moments they were both being lifted up, high above Hyrule by the ancient Goron. Afton glanced to the east; the meteor was now dangerously close…

And then—rippling through the air over all of Hyrule—a song sounded. Breathy soprano notes played their tune, pulling on Afton’s heart, spurring him to act. But as he listened, Afton knew it did not call to him, but to some other power. He thought of the sound of the trumpets that called the knights to duty, and knew that the song would mean the same to that other person, whomever they were, waiting for this signal to act.

Only after the notes echoed off into the distance did Afton look around for the source of the strange song. And then, poised at the tip of Biggoro’s thumb, Afton looked out over Hyrule Field and saw the strangest sight he had ever witnessed.

* * *

“But this is important!” Zelda exclaimed. “You have to be the one to face them! No one knows your other selves like you do!”

“I don’t care how important it is! I don’t want to go anywhere! Three against one? They could massacre me in a second!” Link folded his arms and turned to one side, resolute.

Zelda sighed, exasperated. She slumped back on the plush couch in Ezlo’s laboratory.

“Well, some hero you are,” Ruto remarked. “Could I have some more water please, Ezlo?” She shook her empty glass at the mousy wizard.

Ezlo ground his small teeth. “Certainly.” Then, clutching the glass with white knuckles, he rounded the fireplace. “I was looking forward to hauling up more water… Lucky me…”

Arinco leaned forward in his seat. “Master Link, I know this is all strange and sudden to you, but courage never came to the stagnant heart. You are not alone; you have us to help you. And there is the Force Shard.”

Link lifted the golden shard in one hand. “Yeah, I guess. But this doesn’t do anything except keep me from getting possessed. I’m still ‘nobody’, right?”

“You take that back!”

Ezlo started; Ruto paused, her glass of water inches from her mouth. Arinco looked surprised. And Link was alarmed to discover that Zelda was staring him in the face. “What’s your problem?” he said, waving her away. “I didn’t call you anything…”

“My problem is that you can’t get it through your head that we all have faith in you, Link.”

“Well…” Ruto began.

“Not now, Ruto,” snapped Zelda. “Link, you’re capable of this; I’ve seen you do harder things than take on three idiots in multi-colored tunics.”

“Actually, each tunic has a separate color,” Ezlo corrected her. “Strictly speaking they aren’t multi-colored. That would mean that each tunic had—” But Zelda shot the wizard a glance and Ezlo fell silent.

“Whatever,” said Link. “So far the best I could do was botch getting into the Golden Land and let that evil-looking guy get in instead.”

Zelda stood straighter. Quietly, she said: “Ganondorf didn’t get into the Golden Land, Link. And do you know why? That shard you have around your neck was my mother’s. You may not understand where you came from, but I know who my mother was, and she died defending the Golden Land from being invaded by one of the most dangerous men in Hyrule. And guess who died defending her?” Zelda paused. Link was not about to answer. “Your father, Link. He wasn’t some green-rupee coward ready to stay inside at the first sign of danger. He died guarding one of the most important people in my life.”

“Yeah, and she died too. Some guard job.”

Zelda’s fist had struck Link’s cheek before he could blink.

“Ow!” Link bent over, clutching his face. “What’d you do that for!?”

“You should be positively ashamed of yourself, Link!” Zelda chided. “You—”

But Zelda was cut short as a loud steam whistle blew somewhere inside the laboratory. Ezlo’s already pale face flushed even whiter. “Oh, no…” The wizard dashed over to a table of instruments where several moving things were moving even faster every moment.

“Master Ezlo, what is it?” asked Arinco.

“No, no, no! It wasn’t supposed to reach negative declination until this evening!” Ezlo ran to another table where he shuffled through a stack of old scrolls. He drew one up very close to his little mousy eyes, reading something written there. “Pico riki poco ti po… This is far too soon!”

Ruto and Link said nothing, but watched with concerned interest. “Ezlo, what’s going on!?” said Zelda.

But the Picori mage could not be distracted. Now he threw open the curtains of one window and adjusted the position of his long telescope, checking that the readings were correct before fitting his eye to the eyepiece.

“Rupees and Jabber Nuts! It’s coming!” Ezlo finally turned to the others in the room, staring at them for what seemed to be an eternity, clearly at odds for what to do next. Then—as if to fill the silence—a song rang out, played by breathy soprano notes. From far away it rippled through the air like a command, or perhaps an appeal, pleading for something to happen; none of them knew what. Everyone paused, wondering what to make of it.

Everyone but Ezlo, that is, who whimpered something resembling ‘piki tiki poo’ and dashed behind the fireplace, emerging a moment later burdened by an enormous rolled-up carpet. “We have to leave, now!”

“But Ezlo, what are you doing with—”

But again, Zelda was cut short, for the Picori wizard had thrown out the rug and it was now floating in mid-air as if lying on an invisible floor. A cloud of ancient dust rose from the carpet and Link, Ruto and Zelda all sneezed at the same time.

“Well,” said the wizard testily, swatting his hand against the sandy rug, “everybody on; and be quick about it!”

* * *

Lon Lon Ranch was filled to overflowing with evacuees. All the people from Castle Town and all the villagers from Kakariko had assembled in the confines of the ranch, the villagers hiding from a rampaging spirit, the townspeople from they knew not what. Talon was busy accommodating the newcomers while the king ushered in the last of the stragglers.

Daphnes lashed his horse to a post inside the stables, where masses of Hylian women and children were now gathered. He raised his hand reassuringly and spoke.

“I assure you, this evacuation is only temporary.” He cleared his throat. “The High Priest informs me the danger is very real, but perfectly avoidable if we remain here…”

“And how long does the honorable high priest say we will stay in this place,” sneered one auburn-haired woman. “Or has the clergy of Hyrule not dictated the length of our stay to our great and noble king?”

Daphnes’ face hardened, but he had little chance to respond, for the door of the stable flew open and whose head should happen to appear but that of a certain frazzled fifteen-year-old young man.

“Great King,” coughed Tobias, bowing hastily. “Your assistance, respectfully requested, is required outside…immediately,” he added when the king appeared less-than-willing to comply.

“Who summons me?” said the king proudly.

Tobias’ eyes darted around nervously. “M-myself, Great King.” And he added another bow.

Some women snorted, but the king acquiesced, joining the priest outside the stables. Only when the door was closed did he clutch the priest’s orange robes in one hand and force him bodily against the stable door.

“Never,” the king hissed, “summon me anywhere of your own accord, Master Tobias, do you understand me? I am the king of Hyrule, and I will not be ordered about by your whim. I hearkened to your counsel because I respect your office, not because you rule over me—blast it, what is it, man!?” For Tobias had been gesticulating with such frenzy that the king could not help but turn and look in the direction the priest was pointing. As soon as he did so, however, his fury melted away wholesale.

“By the Goddesses…” Daphnes murmured, beholding the plummeting star. “I’m going to hang that charlatan of a court magician.”

And then, reaching their pointed ears from far, far away, was a song of imperative command.

* * *

The knight saw something charging up the side of Death Mountain with incredible speed, as if in answer to the song’s call of duty. A plume of dust flew out behind it, and as it drew nearer it appeared to be a great rolling ball.

But when it was closer still, the knight changed his mind, for the ball had a pair of spindly legs, and a head of red hair capped by a pair of long yellow rabbit ears. Afton disregarded the comical nature of the sight outright when he realized who it was.

“Worlu!?” But of course the Mask Salesman could neither hear the knight, nor see him tucked away in Biggoro’s enormous hand. And then, something far more curious began to occur.

Worlu reached up and snatched the bunny ears from his head, pulling his ever-smiling face from his head and replacing it with yet another mask. Instantly, his form changed, and he now appeared to be made entirely of gray stone. Beside this, he was also growing incredibly fast. Each moment he was larger and larger, still climbing the mountain with incredible speed. By the time he reached the summit he rivaled Biggoro in size, and as his enormous legs launched him into the air he grew yet larger, now appearing more like a flying mountain.

Abrum stared with utter awe. Even Biggoro grunted in alarm.

Worlu landed east of Death Mountain with an impact that shook the surrounding terrain like a monumental earthquake. Still the giant stone man grew, until his feet were the size of lakes, and his head might have touched the sun. Instead of his usual appearance, the Mask Salesman now wore a gray tunic across one shoulder and gray sandals on his feet. His hair and beard were spun in great curls which might have wound around several tree trunks. Now the Stone Giant took two great steps, widening his stance and facing east with his arms poised.

The meteor screamed through the open sky, now only moments from impact.

“By the Goddess…!” Afton exclaimed. “He intends to catch it!”

* * *

Deep in the belly of the Temple of Fire, a wizened old Goron sat in the center of a stone circle. His hands shook with palsy, his fat leathery lip quivering below his mouth. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was steady. Around his neck was a chain made of some dull, gray metal. From it hung a strangely-shaped shaft, all with notches and grooves on its three faces.

The metal door of the Elder Goron’s room opened and closed. Still the Goron sat, quivering.

“I did not expect you so soon, Coron. Just put the dongos over there.” The elderly Goron waved to one side. “We’ll skin them later…”

“But I want to do some skinning now,” said a voice from behind.

“Darmon? Gor Darmon, is that you?” said the elderly Goron, turning and blinking his eyes, dim with cataracts. “I thought you were taken by the Goddesses…”

“I guess they didn’t take me far enough, you wrinkled old stone.” A set of rocky knuckles cracked. “You don’t look to be much of a challenge. Lucky for me the other two put up a good fight. But you’ll be a nice after-party diversion.”

“You’re not Darmon!” whimpered the elderly Goron, shaking even more, now. “What do you want?”

“I want the Fused Shadow, old man.” Red reached forward and gripped the notched shaft in one powerful hand; for it was he who wore the guise of the dead Goron hero. “Now give me the last piece of the key or I’ll grind you to pebbles.”

“No!” cried the Goron, shaking as he took Red’s arm in his feeble hands. “I protect it with my life!”

“Fair trade,” Red sneered. And he snapped the dull gray chain from the Goron’s neck, the broken links tinkling across the stone circle mercilessly.

What a long but amazing chapter! I loved it! So much happened, I don't know what to talk about. It's so amazing, but I must admit that the multiple Links sometimes confuse me

You make a good point. What could I do to clarify the multiple Links issue? Maybe work in different names for them? Label each section with a place so it's easy to remember where they are? Maybe something you suggest...?

And thanks for the consistent feedback! Fans like you make writing an utter joy!

Originally Posted by Hero of Geeks

You make a good point. What could I do to clarify the multiple Links issue? Maybe work in different names for them? Label each section with a place so it's easy to remember where they are? Maybe something you suggest...?

And thanks for the consistent feedback! Fans like you make writing an utter joy!

Haha, your welcome, and thank you Yes, maybe you should state what time your returning to when you start a new section. I think that would be the best option, like how you dated the time you were talking about in the prequel to this.

=3