Chapter Text
Skyloft.
The Knight Academy Wing Ceremony.
It seemed as though the entire island had turned out to watch the spectacle. Most of them probably had. Not only that, the families of the off-island students – those who could – had travelled to the great island to watch as well. Even for those born there, it was something of an imposing crowd. Of the students who’d been judged ready to be awarded their flight feathers this year, and move up to the final stage of their training, only one could do so at their head. Rather than determined by their attainment over the year, it would all be decided in one final contest. For a variety of reasons, each of the would-be knights was determined they would be the one to win.
Link glanced from side to side, looking at his fellow trainees. There was Groose, nearly two years older and desperate to finally graduate to the senior class after the last students his age had done so the year before. He glared at Link before dismissing him with an elaborate shrug, even as Link’s eyes moved on. There was Sperah, black hair bobbed, sharp face determined: a few months Link’s elder and out to prove she was ready for anything. Then Cawlin, also slightly older than Link but now by far the shortest in the class. Where the other boys had shot up in the last few years, he’d barely gained more than an extra inch, and was endlessly bitter about it.
There were a couple of other students both on Link’s other side and beyond Cawlin, but past him Link caught Zelda’s eye, standing on the sidelines. She smiled at him with a look that silently wished him luck, and Link smiled back before looking forwards again, eyes on the sky ahead. By all rights she should have been in the line with them, but she’d been the one offered the part of the goddess this year and had withdrawn from the competition to accept it. Link focused back on Instructor Owlan’s words as the speech he and Headmaster Gaepora had been giving – the same one some combination of the instructors and headmaster gave at the beginning of every year’s Wing Ceremony, give or take – began to wind down.
The comment about a good, clean competition sounded especially pointed this year, and Link was pretty sure he knew exactly who it was aimed at. He doubted it would have any effect – but in the next moment, it didn’t matter. The countdown had started, and on the final mark, everyone dashed forwards at once. First over the edge by little more than a heartbeat, Link whistled loudly as he fell, though he already knew almost exactly where his loftwing was: circling below the island with the others, waiting. Dimly, he sensed the sudden exertion and burst of speed as the bird broke away from the flock, powerful wingbeats pushing him on just that little bit faster. In the next moment they were reunited, pulling sharply out of their dive to soar up and away, slightly ahead of the rest.
Instructor Owlan’s golden-yellow bird was already far ahead of them, appearing and disappearing through the small fluffy clouds that had gathered around a nearby little rock of an island. Link ducked low to his loftwing’s neck – the bird had a name, but not one he could have spoken aloud or written down; it was a concept, a bird’s sense of self: I – me – red-feathers – this-human – wind-under-wings – far-travel fast-flight – sun-and-sky. The new position reduced wind resistance, and he was acutely aware that for every wingbeat of straight flight, he would gain just that little bit more on those behind him, giving himself a few seconds’ advantage when the contest turned from one of speed to one of agility and quick thinking.
Approaching the tiny island, they veered upwards, flapping hard to gain altitude and look down on their target below. For a moment, Link couldn’t see him, but then the bird shot out from a puff of cloud, pulling wisps of it into his wake. There-
The thought alone signalled his intent, and the pair dived, the wind rushing through Link’s hair, through his loftwing’s feathers, wings folded almost fully back. With them coming down from above and behind, in a blind spot, their quarry evaded almost more by luck than anything else, refusing to stick to straight-line flight, jinking unpredictably. But they were right on his tail, following smoothly as Owlan’s bird sideslipped, then rolled, an agile wing-flick shooting him straight into another cloud. A shadow passed across Link and his loftwing, and rider glanced up as bird remained fixed on the target: Groose with his sidekicks Cawlin and Strich in wingman positions, and above them – Link squinted, trying to be sure of the bird’s colour. Was that Robric? Then where was Sperah? Her loftwing was widely agreed to be the second-fastest in the class. Before he could think about it for more than a moment, however, mist billowed across his vision, and Link rejoined his focus to his loftwing’s as they raced into the cloud, united in purpose and determination.
The turbulence they flew through and an ever-shifting shadow only just ahead of them told Link they were on the right flight path, on their quarry’s tail. He locked his right hand tight into the straps, preparing to reach forward and make a grab for the trailing statuette as soon as they were within reach- but the cloud lightened ahead, they burst out into dazzling sunlight, and something-coming-from-above – with a screaming cry from bird and rider, someone dove down in a blur of colour and motion barely two wingspans to the right! They didn’t collide, but the damage had already been done: the reflex to avoid an impending attack was one very few loftwings ever truly broke, and while Link’s bird handled the shock like a champion after the first moment, they’d still lost both speed and altitude, no longer directly on their quarry’s tail.
“I got him!” yelled the other rider, words whipping on the wind and barely even reaching Link’s own ears. Glancing down, the plumage of the bird below confirmed it was Cawlin, and he looked up to see Groose trying to match the position Link had been in just moments before.
Flying with a wingman was decidedly not a standard way to win the competition at the Wing Ceremony, but it had worked in a double handful of years before, and those who managed to pull it off were usually well-regarded. It took a lot to convince a hopeful classmate to fly as your own backup, giving up hope of winning for yourself in exchange for helping a friend do so. Before Zelda had been offered the role of the Goddess in the ceremony ahead, Link had wondered privately if he’d be willing to fly wingman to her if she asked. He certainly wouldn’t have wanted to for anyone else, not with how good his own chances were. How Groose of all people had talked or intimidated his sidekicks into it…
Link gritted his teeth, shifting his weight subtly with every wingbeat to maximise the power of their flight. He was not going to let Groose win! The little island they were flying around was to his right, and he banked sharply towards it, giving up a direct shot at the tail position – beating strongly up, fighting through the eddies, gaining vital altitude once again as they popped up over the edge of the cliff and saw Sperah at last, circling almost lazily above the island. Noticing Link, she leant sideways to wave a cheeky salute, and he couldn’t help a small, tight smile.
Sperah had to know that as soon as he reached the right vantage he’d dive. She knew as well as he did that in a straight flight his loftwing was slightly faster over all but short distances. She had the advantage, but with each wingbeat it dwindled. Link was pressing her – and suddenly she broke away from her former flight path, diving, he hoped just precious moments too early. He forced himself to let her go; his own chance would come next and he could only trust to luck that he’d pressured her into diving too soon.
As they neared what Link and his bird judged minimum diving altitude, Link looked back down again, hoping his instinctive guesses had been right. For a moment he couldn’t see anything, gaze searching the clouds – then, suddenly, there they were: Instructor Owlan’s pale bird twisting agilely around a spur of rock while behind him both Sperah and Groose seemed in mild disarray. Link guessed they’d only narrowly avoided a mid-air collision. Groose’s unlikely wingmen were flying wide, one above and behind and one out to the side; they saw him, but there was nothing either could do as Link’s loftwing arced over and into an exhilarating dive, not straight for Owlan’s loftwing, who’d be gone by the time they got there, but for the next wispy cloud ahead. Too many aerobatics inside a cloud with an island so close nearby were risky; if Link guessed right what angle his quarry would enter the cloud at, he’d be coming down right on top of where he’d almost have to be flying straight afterwards!
The wind whipped through his hair, carrying all sound but his own incomprehensibly away. Link resisted the urge to yell with the exhilaration of it as he shot into the cloud, one last glance at Owlan’s bird fine-tuning the angle of his flight, the awareness that came from his own loftwing’s sight telling him that Robric was beating up below them somewhere; that Groose had pulled ahead of Sperah but lost his wingmen – that there was nothing but mist and shadow, white and bright in full sunlight and darkening for every bird-length they dropped. Their linked awareness let them judge and take the risks, a perfect sense of exactly how fast the loftwing could pull off a wrenching roll to avoid danger, exactly how far they would travel as they did, matching their flight speed to the razor-thin edge of their safety margins from moment to moment. Link had almost never felt so alive as in moments like this, bird and rider as one pushing themselves to their limits for a common goal.
In only seconds there was a shadow below them, a shape; that same instant Link felt a snap of broad wings outstretched and the force pinning him to his loftwing, barely there at all as they fell, doubled, tripled, the strain pushing the red bird to fold wings turn slower and wild joy in the aerobatics demanding that his body bear the strain. And it did; even as they were still pulling up and momentarily in the perfect position, the trailing statuette so close it could have hit the loftwing’s head, Link pushed himself up and forward with all his strength, hanging on with his right hand and reaching with his left, reaching-
He had only an instant’s warning, a darkening in the fog in their peripheral vision, before Groose suddenly resolved from the fog behind and to his left. Something about the motion he could barely even see warned Link; he ducked flat to his loftwing, losing precious moments, as something small shot by over his head, falling just ahead of one broad red wing. So much for that; he’d known Groose would try to cheat, everybody had-
“You’re not going to take this from me, you lazy drifter!”
“It’s not yours!” Link shouted into the wind, letting it carry his words back. They were still so close, they were in Instructor Owlan’s bird’s slipstream and Groose was in theirs, all three bound together by the invisible air they flew through. If he pulled ahead of Groose, he’d pull ahead of the target, and all he needed to do was to just hold his line for a few seconds more. Before he could even frame the question in his mind, the answer was with him, as it always was:
Shall we do this? | Of course!
The red loftwing was as bold as his rider, and both counted the sting of whatever Groose might hit them with as nothing worth noting against their shot at victory. A shift in the trim of their quarry’s wings, seen even as it began, and they swept through a sharp left turn, Groose flying just that little too wide and losing another half a length – Link reached forwards once again, the wind teasing him as it yanked the statuette this way and that on its anchor ribbon; something hard slammed into his right shoulder and he gasped but refused to flinch; rocked back and forward in time with a final powerful wingbeat and at last, at last his fingers closed on the coveted prize!
Feeling the tug, the leading loftwing let the ribbon drop, and Link and his loftwing stooped into another wild dive, their prize triumphantly clutched in Link’s hand. They plunged out of the bottom of the cloud with it still held high, soaring up and now flying with all their might back to Skyloft. No-one could beat them for straight-line speed over that distance; whatever Groose might have had in mind, they were away.
Bird and rider landed back at Skyloft to wild applause and cheers from the gathered crowd. Link had to fight the urge to duck his head, and couldn’t entirely stop himself grinning like an idiot. Prompted by a gesture from the headmaster, he held the statuette high to a cheer that was almost deafening.
Link kept his eyes on Zelda as he jumped down from his loftwing’s back, hiding a wince as the motion tugged at his bruised shoulder. At big events, it was always easier to keep his eyes on people he knew. He didn’t mind the press of students at the academy, or the crowds at the Skyloft market, but here as the centre of attention for over half the island…
Another cheer went up as Robric landed, and another for Sperah right behind him. Both riders gave Link a salute as they climbed down, Sperah slightly rueful. Four more riders landed, each to their own round of applause, before Groose and his wingmen trailed in at the back of the group, the older student shooting Link a glare under the cover of his dismount before turning to the crowd.
With all the trainee knights back on solid ground, Headmaster Gaepora stepped forward, the last of the applause dying away. He shook Link’s hand in congratulations, and again Link hid his flinch at the twinge of pain, keeping any reaction from his face.
“Congratulations, Link!” His voice dropped somewhat and the look in his eyes seemed near pleading as he asked, softer, almost anxiously, “Was it a good race?”
Several different sentences collided with one another in the back of Link’s throat. Groose had already been almost expelled at least twice; with one word and the bruise on his shoulder, Link could quite likely see him kicked out of the Knight Academy. His thoughts flashed back to quiet, tense conversations with Zelda, who often overheard her father’s academy business, accidentally or otherwise.
“Even the other instructors were saying Dad should kick him out this time!” While her voice was too high-pitched to perfectly replicate his tone, she’d mimicked her father’s manner of speech almost perfectly. “But what will he do if we do? That boy has the makings of a good man, if he’ll ever see it. If we expel him, he’ll only grow more bitter, and our students now will be picking him out of bar fights in ten years’ time. If we keep him here, there’s still a chance he’ll learn something.”
“Groose? Learn?” Link exaggerated surprise at the very idea.
Zelda had laughed a little at that, her mood lightening slightly before she sighed. “Maybe Dad doesn’t want to give up on him, but I still agree with Instructor Owlan. The way he picks on you is too much!”
“It was fine, Headmaster,” he said quietly, looking up into the tall man’s worried eyes, and gave him a little smile. “Sperah had me worried for a moment when I realised we were both going for the same dive.”
The headmaster breathed out in visible relief. “Well, you clearly passed her all the same, didn’t you? Well done, you and your loftwing both.”
As the headmaster stepped away, the other students arranged themselves in a line behind Link, facing the crowd and leaving him alone in the front and centre. The traditional graduation called on them each by name, had them each reswear their oaths – maybe one day Groose will remember those – and made a point to praise each one for some achievement or other over their years in the class they were leaving. In the warm sun and strong, cool wind, it was easy to simply enjoy the moment, even with everyone watching. The next graduation would be their last, perhaps in two years, perhaps in three, and being a full knight had never felt closer.
The ceremony seemed over surprisingly quickly, and almost before he realised it, Link was leading the procession up to the Goddess Statue: himself and his classmates, then their teachers, then the rest of the island, walking smartly up the bridge that led to the Goddess’ Isle deliberately out of step with one another to avoid it swaying and potentially snapping. No-one Link knew had ever seen a bridge actually do that, but there were endless horror stories, and it was easy enough to feel them rock underfoot that just about everyone could believe it.
At the foot of the great statue, Link waited briefly, then turned and bowed to the still-gathering crowd before heading for the diving platform on the edge of the island. He accelerated as he reached it, leaping into the sky and calling his bird with a whistle and a thought, in perfect safety even as he fell with the loftwing’s awareness growing ever stronger in the back of his mind until they met and were as one again.
It was a very short flight, arcing up and around for a careful, delicate landing on the platform of the goddess’ sculpted stone hands. Zelda was already there, smiling as she shielded her face from the buffeting gusts of their landing. Link swung himself off his loftwing’s back, again ignoring the twinge from his shoulder, and the red bird took off to circle above the statue, keeping exactly opposite Zelda’s. Down below, he could hear Headmaster Gaepora and Knight Commander Eagus giving the introduction to the ceremony.
“I’m glad you made it up here like you promised, Link,” Zelda said softly, far too quietly to be heard on the ground below. “That was great flying out there…”
Link smiled, but before he could say anything, Zelda tilted her head, listening to the words drifting up from below. She cleared her throat, smoothing her expression to serenity, and Link glanced down reflexively at the crowd, which had fallen utterly silent, before taking the painted statuette from where he’d tied it on his belt and offering it to her. Zelda took it, briefly holding it high for the audience to see, and turned to set it smoothly in the alcove set into the statue’s chest. She positioned it carefully, a green and white bird with blue and red tips to its long feathers and a red bar across its chest, gazing directly at them. So smoothly it looked natural, though Link knew she’d been rehearsing her part over and over again over the last few weeks, she stepped back, lifting the harp she’d been given for the ceremony and beginning to pluck a gentle tune.
With his back to the crowd, Link was free to smile as he watched her, dressed in her ceremonial outfit and playing the age-old melody of dedication. The goddess’ stone face gazed out over them both, the same serene, slightly weather-worn smile they’d always known bestowing her benevolence upon her people.
As the last note of the music died away, Zelda tucked the harp carefully away in the pouch on her belt. Though they were expensive to make thanks to the magic needed, the Knight Academy outfitted each of its students with a basic set: each one could hold just about any single thing up to roughly the volume of a thin human’s torso. Or so it was said, at least; in practice, nobody generally tried to carry something that big around with them anyway. She turned around to Link, still serenely graceful; held out her hand.
Link knelt before her, placing his right hand in her left, his head bowed as Zelda spoke the ceremonial words, her voice clear and carrying.
“Great goddess, guiding light and protector of our people, grant us your blessing and mercy as I act in your stead during this ceremony.” She took a deep breath. “Valiant youth who grasped victory at the celebration of the bird folk… In accordance with the old ways… I now bestow the blessings of the goddess upon you.”
Zelda paused there, releasing Link’s hand and reaching behind herself to untie the heavy knot that fastened her thickly-folded wrap. The thin fabric was several times the size she’d had to fold it down to in order to fit it neatly around her shoulders, and she felt a moment’s absurd fear that she wouldn’t be able to free it, but it came undone easily. Link’s head stayed bent, kneeling without complaint, right arm down and the left held diagonally across his chest, until he heard her take a breath to speak. He finally looked up, just in time to see her hold the folded cloth out to him with Hylia’s symbol still uppermost.
“The blessings of the goddess drift down from the heavens aloft a sail, which I now pass on to you.”
Link lifted his hands, palm-up, to take it from her. The same nameless unease that had haunted him when he woke up that morning returned with a sudden stab, and he felt a brief sense of reassurance as his fingers brushed against hers. Zelda withdrew her hands, leaving him holding the still-warm cloth alone, and he drew it back towards himself slowly before standing and, with a quick smile, making a small motion as if to lift it above his head and wave it high. Shielded from the crowd by his body, only Zelda could see it, and she raised one hand to her mouth, not quite hiding her sudden smile.
“Link!” she hissed. “Stop messing around. This is supposed to be a sacred ritual, remember?”
The familiar back-and-forth lifted the shadow from his spirit briefly as he lowered the cloth, and Zelda smiled at him, ignoring her own advice to continue talking under her breath.
“They say that the goddess gave a sailcloth like this one to her chosen hero long ago. You know, I’ve been working hard to finish this one in time to give it to today’s champion…” Her smile broadened, and her voice dropped even further, barely above a whisper. “I’m really glad I got to give it to you, Link. Make sure you take good care of it, okay?”
Link nodded, smiling back.
“Thank you for making it up here today…” She shifted her weight, and suddenly stepped forward, realising she’d spent far longer talking than Link had with his teasing hint at striking a pose. “Now, we really should finish up this ritual…”
The bottom dropped out of Link’s stomach.
“You… do know what happens at the end, right?” Zelda teased. Of course he did. He’d seen it every year since he first came to Skyloft to stay at the Knight Academy. But he was giving her the strangest look, like he’d suddenly got stage fright…
Link swallowed. “Uh…” He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t make the jump, and he didn’t know why.
Zelda leant forwards, hands on hips. “Just what are you thinking? Don’t be silly. This is your big moment, Link!” She stepped forwards until they were nose to nose, so close that if he twitched he’d touch her. “It’s an easy jump!” She set her hands on his shoulders and spun him around before he could stop her. “Right into the centre of the design down there, remember?”
Circles within circles gazed up at him from the ground, clear of people, clear of any obstructions. The stone looked darker than he remembered it, more ominous than it had any right to, but Zelda continued lightly as if nothing was wrong.
“So, ready to jump?”
Link said nothing. He felt frozen. Something about the thought of falling holding that sailcloth – the beautiful sailcloth Zelda had made for him – horrified him. Mechanically, he felt for the corners; locked his hands into the strapping woven into them, keeping the majority of the cloth folded for the moment. His heart was racing, a sense of dread had engulfed him, and he didn’t know why…
Oblivious to the depths of his sudden fear, Zelda set her hands swiftly against her friend’s back and gave him a sudden, hard shove. Link yelped, the instincts of half a lifetime making him kick off from the edge even as he overbalanced, gaining precious clearance from the side; making him automatically spread his arms and legs and angle himself in the wind, steering towards his target in the brief moments he had in the air. Motion, action, had cleared his head: he could move again, despite the dread still gripping him. The sailcloth, still folded, was taut between his hands, and he released its folds just as he was about to pass over the very centre of the circle. The drag snapped his arms up, yanking at his bruised shoulder; dropped his feet; slowed his fall enough that though he dropped to one knee when he landed, it wasn’t more than a jar.
The long-silenced crowd broke into wild applause as Link straightened up, and the tight knot of fear in his chest began to fade. He felt almost foolish: there was nothing here that was dangerous, nothing here that was anything but reassuring: sun and sky and the people of Skyloft. Why had leaping from the goddess’ stone hands seemed so ominous? He turned to his left as Zelda swooped down atop her loftwing to land nearby, crossing to him excitedly and stopping with her hands clasped in front of her.
“That was perfect! You’re amazing, Link!”
Link smiled, the unease fading further, half-conscious of his own loftwing landing behind him. The two stood together for a little as the crowd began to disperse, the ceremony over with Link’s dive from the statue’s hands. Zelda glanced at them, shifting her weight slightly as she waited for them all to leave, and looked back to him as the last of the stragglers filed away.
“You know, Link, seeing as how you won today… And with the weather being so nice… You think maybe you’d like to, you know, go fly around the clouds together?”
Link nodded, not even trying to stop himself grinning. “I’d love to!”
Notes:
This chapter got a lot longer than I meant it to while writing it, so I ended up having to cut it here. I hope that's not too much of a disappointment! So far we see Skyloft have a long-term-sustainable population size of much more than 20 people, the Academy have a sustainable class size and graduation method, an important ceremony held in a public place actually have an audience, why loftwings don't get names, and, of course, why the heck Groose wasn't expelled years ago.
Chapter Text
The two loftwings and their riders rode a fair wind away from Skyloft, out into the open sky, flying in easy formation, rolling or diving for the sheer fun of it; circling back up on a rising wind. The day was theirs, and the shadow over Link’s heart had faded back into a memory.
“This has been such an amazing day!” Flying almost wingtip to wingtip, Zelda barely needed to raise her voice to speak to him, just loud enough to be heard over the wind in their ears. Link looked across at her, smiling, the two loftwings contentedly matching one another’s speed and direction as their riders spoke. “Our graduation, and the ceremony… I’ll always remember this!”
Link’s smile broadened. “Me too!”
“You know, I was so nervous this morning,” Zelda went on. “I knew there wasn’t anything to worry about, but I just kept feeling… I don’t know. As if something was going to go wrong for you.” Her loftwing slipped sideways to catch a slight change in the wind, and Link’s matched her perfectly. “Father told me I was worrying over nothing, like he always does.” She gave a little, embarrassed laugh. “And I guess he was right, wasn’t he!”
Link nodded. “I was worried, too,” he admitted.
“You? You’re never worried!” She said it light-heartedly, but it had been the cause of some friction between them more than once. Link had never quite understood why Zelda – and the others – thought it was so important that he worry. Life in Skyloft was good; life at the Academy was good. He’d do the best he could, and if it ever wasn’t good enough for some, it wasn’t as though anyone would suffer for it. He excelled at weapons training and flight; enjoyed his hobbies; got by perfectly acceptably in even his worst classes. What more did he really need?
“Well, I was this time. It sounds stupid, but – I had this… this nightmare, last night. I woke up still feeling like something was looming over me.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s gone now.” Mostly, at least.
“I think today probably felt like that for everyone,” Zelda said. “But… it’s all over now. Everything went perfectly! And we have the whole rest of the day…”
Link looked at her quizzically as she trailed off, seeming to think about her next words. What would she say? Was it…?
Instead of speaking, however, Zelda suddenly looked sharply to her left, her loftwing banking into a wide turn. Confused, Link followed her, trying to guess where she was looking and searching for anything out of place in the sky.
“Zelda?” he called, coming level with her again as her loftwing straightened out.
“Did you… did you hear something, just then, Link?”
Link shook his head, frowning. “No, nothing. What was it?”
“I don’t know… I couldn’t make it out. But it felt like… I was being called.” Zelda looked around again, scanning the sky much as Link had, and finding as little. “It’s… not the first time it’s happened lately, either…” She shook her head. “It – it must just be all of the worry about today. Let’s not think about it!”
With that, her loftwing flapped her wings, beating up to a higher altitude. Link watched for a few moments before following, rejoining her on another strong, steady wind. Zelda looked across at him as he caught up, then back down at the great expanse of cloud below.
“Do you ever wonder what’s below the clouds, Link?”
Link thought about it. There were legends, if they could be called that: most of what he’d ever heard about anything that might be below the clouds came from midnight stories told by fellow students sneaking out of bed after hours and as often as not competing to scare one another silly. He and Zelda had heard a fair few in their time; in fact, he was pretty sure he remembered Zelda coming up with at least one herself.
“I just have to wonder. What’s down there? Why won’t our loftwings even fly too near the low clouds? There’s a wall at the bottom of our sky, and nobody even thinks about it! I know everyone says there’s nothing, or whatever’s there is barren and dead, but… the old books I’ve been reading, they all talk about this ‘surface’. They seem to say it was so much bigger than Skyloft. That it’s as wide as the sky itself… can you imagine?”
Link frowned, trying to. Islands had edges; to look in any direction, unless there was a building in the way, was to look out to sky. What would it look like if the island didn’t end? Would it fill the horizon? How would it do that without curving up into the sky?
“How could something that big all be dead?”
“I don’t know!” he called back to her. Then, after another moment, “Is that why you’ve been in the library so much?”
Zelda nodded, exaggerating the motion to be seen in flight. “I was just reading about the tradition of the Wing Ceremony to begin with, but it all seems connected to myths of the surface! And I… I really want to know what’s down there. Somehow, I want to see for myself one day.”
Link looked ahead again, out into endless blue sky and white clouds. With a strong wind to bear them and the whole future ahead, the possibilities seemed endless. “Maybe one day you can! I don’t know how, but…”
Zelda’s whole face lit up like the sun shining out through a moment’s gap in thick cloud, and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “Link…!” She gazed at him for a few moments, eyes bright. “You know… there’s something I’ve been meaning to-”
A sudden, blinding flash of light from below cut her off, both loftwings screeching in protest. Suddenly viciously contrary, the wind buffeted them almost from all angles, Link and Zelda gripping their loftwings’ collars in desperate reflex to hang on in the abrupt turbulence. Link knew his eyes had only been shut for a shocked second, and yet as he forced them open again, blinking away the afterimages, he saw something impossible, unnatural: a pillar made of spinning cloud directly in their path!
“What is that?!”
He had no breath to spare on an answer. The loftwings screamed in panic, but Link’s reflexive response to try and avoid the danger meant that his bird’s call was almost as much of a follow-me! as he sideslipped hard to the right, loftwing watching his flight path, Link splitting their awareness to watch Zelda. Her bird tried to follow, but slightly shorter wings, slightly less flight strength, and the winds somehow all rushing into the spinning, towering cloud tore at them, and where Link’s loftwing had begun, just barely, to gain a trajectory that would take him around the whirling cloud, Zelda’s was still being pulled in! Bird and rider shared an instant of panic, of terrible fear, but the decision was made in that same moment. Abandoning the fight, they arrowed towards her, though somehow the going was just as hard: the wind tried to drag them up, down, sideways, anywhere and everywhere but directly to her. She was only a few bird-lengths away and it might as well have been across all of Skyloft; her loftwing lost control, blown in the hurricane wind like a leaf in an eddy, and then Zelda-
Even over the wind, Link heard her scream as she fell, hands wrenched from her tumbling bird’s collar. There was no thought, only instant, reflexive response: they folded their wings and dived, going after her despite the wind that tried to rip them apart, slamming them from side to side, turning their dive into a spin, stronger with every heartbeat until- Link’s grip gave out-
The sky went black.
Notes:
Shorter chapter this time, but if I combined it with the next one it'd be way too long. Relatively few key differences here beyond various bits of conversation occurring at different times - though we do get a first glance at whether Link is really as laid-back as all that, and/or why he comes across that way. Also, a couple more general hints about culture; making attitudes to the surface consistent is harder than you'd think.
Chapter Text
...Link was falling…
In endless blackness, he was falling…
“Link…?”
A voice called his name, a voice that was almost familiar. He opened his eyes, the wind still rushing past him. He was falling forever.
Above him, far above, a light shone in the blackness, as if the sun was there but couldn’t light up the sky. There was a shape across it, a figure: a person with arms half-raised; a sword with a winged guard; both at once? No, a woman, and the light shone from behind her, was her light.
“I am waiting for you.”
Waiting…? Link couldn’t speak. Was she familiar?
“The time has come for you to awaken.”
She looked like nothing he had ever seen, blue skin merging into sculpted hair like a polished statue. Her eyes were blank and yet they seemed to look at him.
“You are vital to a mission of great importance.”
He was still falling.
“Link…”
He blinked, only blinked, and the light was gone. Zelda was there, falling above him, face-down and looking into his eyes. No – no, he was falling face-down towards her; she was falling away, the sky all around the angry grey of a stormcloud. Link drew his arms and legs in to speed his fall, dropping like a stone; reached out to her, but she fell away faster still in defiance of all aerodynamics, and a dark, dark stain on the clouds below became an open maw about to engulf her, he could still hear the scream as she fell-
Link’s eyes snapped open, his heart racing. He forced himself upright – he was lying down? – against the protests of his weakened body and spinning head. He was-
In his room?
Another nightmare? But it felt too horribly, awfully real.
“Ah, you’re awake, thank the goddess.”
Link gasped, snapping his head to the left. The tall figure of the headmaster stood up from Link’s own chair, looking down at him in the dimness: only a single candle on the desk lit the darkened room. The familiar sight only made everything seem more surreal: why was the headmaster in his room?
“Why…?” he managed. His throat was dry; his mouth felt like cloth.
“Can you tell me what day it is?” Headmaster Gaepora asked gently.
“Wing… Wing Ceremony?” Link hazarded. Was it the Wing Ceremony? Had that been real? It felt real, too real, but if it was real then so was what had come after, and-
“Yes, or at least the night after it,” the headmaster said, sounding both relieved and worried. “You and Zelda went for a flight. Do you remember?”
Link nodded jerkily, his heart in his throat.
“Your loftwing brought you back unconscious less than two hours later, injured and distressed. Don’t worry – he’s being taken care of. You don’t seem to have any serious injuries, thankfully, but this is the first you’ve woken.”
It was all true, every moment of it, the flight and their conversation and the pillar of cloud and Zelda’s fall- Link bowed his head, unable to even look at the headmaster. How? How had he somehow made it back here as if nothing had happened when Zelda-
One look at his expression was enough to tell Headmaster Gaepora that his worst fears were about to be confirmed. He kept his voice level, even gentle at first, but his fear and worry threatened to break it. “Link… what happened? Where is Zelda? What’s happened to my daughter?”
Link clenched his teeth, and slowly forced himself to look back up. “She…” He made himself take a breath, trying to put the words together through the cloud still fogging his mind. “We were flying… S-south of Skyloft. It – it was just a normal day, the weather was clear. Then there was a flash, brighter than any lightning I’ve ever seen, down in the clouds; I only shut my eyes for a moment, but when I opened them, there was – I – I don’t know what it was, Headmaster, it was a pillar of cloud, dark as a storm, right in front of us, and it was spinning, the wind was pulling us into it – Zelda came off her loftwing, and I – the last thing I remember is diving after her…” He looked down again, let his outstretched left hand fall to his knee. He hadn’t made it, hadn’t been able to reach her.
Gaepora raised his hand to his face, eyes closed, and turned away, his shoulders slumped in grief and denial. Link looked at him helplessly for a long moment before turning to swing his legs out of bed, realising as he did that he was still mostly dressed. As he bent to pull on his boots, the headmaster turned back to him, raising one hand in clear refusal.
“You must not push yourself. You’re still recovering.”
Link froze with one boot half on. “But…”
Headmaster Gaepora shook his head, drawing himself up again. “You will do no good for anyone losing yourself in the night sky, Link.” Some spark of hope seemed to have lit in his eyes, for no reason Link could understand. “In the morning, we will see how you are faring. Perhaps… perhaps there is still hope for my daughter… for our Zelda.”
Link’s breath caught.
“That thing you saw… it sounds as though it may have been a tornado. And we can be certain from what you describe that it was no natural one. Tell me, did anything strange happen today? Anything at all?”
“I don’t know…” Link looked down again, thinking. “I guess…” It sounded ridiculous. But what if it was connected? “I had… a nightmare, last night. And just now. But in both there was… someone talking to me. A woman. And – and while we were flying, Zelda said she thought she heard a voice. Like someone was calling her. She said it’d happened before, but – she thought it was just worrying about today.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“No… I don’t think she wanted to talk about it. She just talked about the ‘surface’, and the books she’d been reading…” The memory almost hurt. It had all been so normal, such a perfect day.
The headmaster sighed. “I see. Well… These things, slight though they are, give me some reason to hope.” He set his hand on Link’s shoulder, reassuring. “If you think you hear anything strange, Link, tell me at once. We’ll talk more in the morning. I have some books to read, and you…” He pushed gently down on Link’s shoulder, and the young student reluctantly lay back. “You should rest yourself for tomorrow. I believe Zelda may still be alive out there, and we will find her, but you must recover, and there is nothing more you can do tonight. Try to rest.”
Reluctantly, Link nodded. Oddly enough, it was Gaepora’s comment that he had reading to do that gave him the most hope. The only reason he would be reading had to be because he thought there would be a clue to what had happened in some book, somewhere… and that meant he thought there really was a chance.
Headmaster Gaepora turned to walk away, picking up the candle as he went, and stopped at the door, looking back at Link. “Come to my office as soon as you wake next morning. We will find her.”
Link nodded again, and a few moments later the headmaster had closed the door behind him, leaving Link in darkness. He sighed, trying to force himself to relax, trying to obey the headmaster’s command. It made sense – even if he and his bird had somehow already completed all the night-flying lessons they’d be getting in their new class, even if the darkness didn’t bother loftwings one bit, they still wouldn’t be able to see anything in the wide open sky. If he rested, he’d be more awake in the morning, when he could search for Zelda, follow whatever clues her father might have found. It made sense… but he couldn’t bring himself to obey. All he could think about was those last moments of memory, of Zelda falling like a leaf in the wind; of something, just moments before, she’d been meaning to ask or to tell him or to say to him…
A faint sound, as much felt as heard, broke into his thoughts. Link lifted himself on his elbows, frowning at the door. Had he heard something? Something like a voice? From… from the corridor?
He sat up in bed, and as he did, the sound came again. He couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded as if someone was speaking just outside. It wasn’t a voice he knew, and yet something about it almost seemed familiar…
Was he dreaming?
Link pulled on his boots still asking himself that question; stood up in the dark and silent room with only a little moonlight shining through the small glass window to guide him. He felt steadier than he had earlier, but was that real?
The voice spoke again, a woman’s voice, echoing strangely, still as much felt as heard, and Link crossed to the door, opening it cautiously. The Knight Academy was pitch-dark, the headmaster and his candle long since gone, but there seemed to be a faint glow from the direction of the stairs. Still uncertain, Link stepped out into the hall.
There was someone there, someone or something, a figure like a young woman, tinted blue and purple and dark in the night. She was hovering, somehow, her arms almost more like wings, but lowered and still. Link stared at her for a moment, recognising with a brush of strange familiarity the blank-eyed figure from his last dream. He walked towards her, and as he drew close, she swept back, a little almost sparkling sound the only noise her motion made. She drifted up the stairs, never touching them, and Link followed her, reflexively avoiding the squeaky step. As he reached the top, she backed away again down the long hall, stopping just before the upper doors.
Still Link followed, uncertain, the night dreamlike and surreal. He was dreaming, and so he could follow her… and so it was only half a surprise when, as he got close to her once again, she drifted backwards and vanished through the sturdy wood of the Academy doors. Cautiously, he tried the handle: it turned in his hand, and he slipped out into a moonlit night, shutting the door quietly behind him. The night air was cool on his face, on his hands, a little welcome shock of near-reality – but the same strange figure was waiting for him ahead, a little clearer in the moonlight, and Link ran after her. She moved faster, now, making him run to keep her in sight: out and across the bridge and up to the Goddess’ Isle. There she waited, several paces in front of the closed gates, until as he got close she shot sideways, out over open air, then down. Link looked over the edge: there were ledges down there, the side of the island anything but smooth. The moonlight lit his way as he climbed over the edge and scrambled down after her.
The climb felt real. Very real. Leaping over the gap between one ledge and the next felt very real. Link wasn’t sure he was dreaming, and if he wasn’t, he was halfway around the underside of the island, his loftwing asleep somewhere nearby, following some sort of impossible figure from his dreams, and no-one with any idea where he had gone…
She moved backwards, looking at him, and Link followed her. He’d come this far. What else was he going to do?
Notes:
If you got this far, great! I hope you're enjoying it! Do let me know...
Patch Notes:
- Headmaster's mood no longer jumps at random from one end of the spectrum to the other.
- Headmaster has no longer read the plot.
I kind of like the headmaster, but the way the game uses him as a kind of inferior lore-drop mechanism means he never gets much chance to show a personality beyond that, and also almost never gets to behave like a real normal human. A man who's lost his daughter and desperately wants to believe anything else can absolutely clutch at whatever straws he can think of to tell himself she's still alive, but I don't buy that he'd be so chill about it and I definitely don't buy the implication his repeated "ah I thought so" gives that he's just believed Zelda was a deity since she was born. Even the most doting parent doesn't go quite that far.
I do, however, really like the eerie, dreamlike following-Fi sequence. That's great.
Chapter Text
Link pulled himself up over the edge with some relief, looking around. He’d finally made it back onto the top of the island, climbing up a tangle of matted vines and rough rock, still following the strange bluish figure from his dreams. It was real – she was real. And he was standing on the far side of the Goddess’ Isle, behind her great statue, as the floating figure drifted back in the direction of the closed gates. Link ran after her, gaining distance at last, whipping around as she suddenly turned lightning-fast and shot straight through the solid stone of the statue’s base. He stopped for a moment, staring. How could he follow that?
The emblem of the goddess carved into the stone seemed to glow faintly, and then, to Link’s shock, the stone wall itself shuddered and slid downwards with a grinding sound, shedding dust and chips of stone. Beyond it, a dark passage yawned before him, cool, faintly stale air wafting gently out. Link stared for several moments longer before starting slowly inside, looking around.
A short flight of stairs led less than Link’s own height downwards, the thin dust of ages clouding up at his every footstep. As he stepped out into the echoing darkness at their base, a light began to brighten in the air, splitting into four balls like torch flames and showing him a vast, roughly hexagonal room, nearly as wide as the base of the statue itself. In its exact centre, a sword stood embedded in a low pedestal, somehow untarnished by the ages, undulled by dust and time, and almost seeming to glow with an inner light of its own. Link’s breath caught, and he gazed at it for a long moment. Something about the sword… called to him.
As he gathered his determination and started forward, the sword seemed to flash, a figure springing from it and ‘landing’ just above the floor, sinking gracefully into a deep bow. She straightened up: the same strange figure Link had been chasing, the same one he had seen in his dreams. Her face was youthful, slightly too perfect, a tiny diamond in the centre of her forehead, and all a strange metallic blue, eyes blank and yet looking directly at him. Her arms were almost winglike, one blue as her face, one deep purple, seeming enveloped in layers like shawls draped over one another. Though she seemed metallic, sculpted, they moved and hung around her like folds of draping cloth, and she appeared to breathe, even her hair moving slightly in the same intangible wind that fluttered the cloth of her arms. She seemed to be wearing a thick, very short, figure-hugging dress, a giant blue diamond-shaped gem set at the centre of her chest, and dark tights with a diamond pattern.
“The one chosen by my creator. I have been waiting for you.” It was the same slightly echoing, half-heard, half-felt voice Link had heard before, her voice. She sounded perfectly, impossibly calm. “You will play a role in a great destiny.”
Link stared at her. What was she?
“According to your social customs, I should provide you with my personal designation. Fi is the name I was given.” She paused, not really for emphasis, perhaps simply to mark a change of subject. “I was created for a single purpose, long before the recorded memory of your people. I must aid you in fulfilling the great destiny that is your burden to carry.” She twisted, looking over her shoulder at the sword behind her. “Come, Link. You must take up this sword. As the one chosen by my creator, it is your destiny.”
Link was still staring. Even the question How does she know my name? came to him a few moments late. Fi waited for a few moments, then continued.
“The strange dreams troubling your sleep. My sudden appearance. Uncertainty surrounding the fate of one you hold dear. Under the circumstances, it is only logical that you would exhibit some apprehension.”
He refocused himself slightly, still uncertain, shocked and confused and a little afraid. What was she? How did she know these things? What was she talking about?
“To minimise your uncertainty, allow me to share some information. My projections indicate that this information has a high probability of altering your current emotional state.”
What?
“The one you seek, honourable Zelda, is still alive.”
What?! Link gasped, hopeful, half-disbelieving. Could she know that? How did she know – but she sounded so certain – was it true?
“And this spirit maiden… the one you call Zelda… is another chosen one fated to be part of the same great mission. Therefore, should you wish to meet with your friend, I highly recommend that you take up this sword before you set out to search for her.”
Somehow, she knew Zelda. Somehow, she knew about Link’s dreams – the very dreams she’d been in. She said she knew what was happening, that she knew Zelda’s fate.
“Does that information invigorate you? Are you ready to accept this sword?”
He couldn’t ignore that. She was the only thing that might have some idea of what had happened to Zelda. All she seemed to want was that he take up the sword that rested behind her, and with a sharp breath, Link started forwards, only to stop in surprise and uncertainty as she floated higher, suddenly hovering face-down only a little above head height.
“It seems that further persuasive measures will not be required,” she commented. “In the name of my creator, draw the sword and raise it skyward.”
With that, she withdrew, flitting several paces back to float upright again, out of the way. Link stepped forward, climbing the two shallow steps onto the central dais and stopping before the sword. Unlike everything else in the chamber, there was no dust on it, no sign of age. It could have been left there yesterday. A blue gem at the base of the blade looked like a small version of the one on the strange figure’s – Fi’s – chest, and the pale hilt was understatedly ornate. Bracing himself, Link set his right hand on the hilt, then his left, gripping the sword tightly and drawing it forth.
It came free with a slight scrape of metal, light and well-balanced in his hands. Link let go with his right; it felt natural in his grip, a comfortable extension of his arm. He raised it towards the light now shining down from the centre of the ceiling above, and the light seemed to catch on the blade, in the blade, for a moment almost transfixing. A painless shock ran up his arm; he was-
-everything a blur of motion cascading at once, sword in hand: parry; counter; whirl; foes all around-
-down on one knee but only for an instant-
-blades locked in a battle more vital than life itself-
-and he was not alone-
“Recognition complete, Master…”
Link tore his eyes from the sword to look at her. It didn’t feel like looking away at all. She was… part of it. She was it.
“Link… my master.”
Was he imagining it, or was there something in her calm voice? Something… warmer? He lowered the blade slowly, gazing at it once more, into the gem that somehow matched hers. Could he feel it? Feel… something? Feel her?
“Link!”
Link whirled at the unexpectedly normal voice from behind him, utterly out of place in the strange and ancient scene.
“Headmaster?!”
Headmaster Gaepora had come to the bottom of the stairs, gazing into the room with an air of amazed disbelief. “I suspected there was a room inside this statue, but I could never find it… How did you get here?” He paused, and added after a moment, almost reflexively “And what are you doing out of bed?”
Link looked over his shoulder, to where Fi had drifted around to directly behind him, lowering to his own level again. Could the headmaster even see her? Even if he could, how would he explain?
“...Link, who… what… is that?”
Link had no idea how he could tell Fi’s blank eyes were watching the headmaster, but they were. She said nothing, expression still perfectly emotionless, and he looked back to him, holding the sword increasingly awkwardly.
“She said her name is Fi. She… I think… she is this sword.” It didn’t seem to make any more sense for being said out loud, and yet somehow he was sure it was true.
“The stories said…” Gaepora hesitated. “Some of the old stories – the ones that were only half-remembered even by the time they were written down – said that below the goddess there was a ‘Chamber of the Sword’. That it was a gift from the goddess to us, and to the one she had chosen. But if the chamber really existed, or if it was a metaphor…” He shook his head. “I’d never thought I’d be standing in it, but we must be. But, Link… Those old tales… they are also a warning. The light of the Goddess’ Sword will shine forth… against the all-consuming darkness that shall reawaken.” He closed his eyes, focusing on memory. “But we should not fear… for her chosen will take up the light and the ancient battle, and bring it to an end.” His eyes opened again, looking from Link to a point well above his head. “They refer to ‘one born of the blade’ who will be a guide, but others say it is one born to the blade who will be guided…”
Link turned sideways to see that Fi had risen into the air again, looking down at them both from more than his own height again off the floor.
“The oral tradition,” she said, once again preternaturally calm. Had Link only imagined the faint hint of warmth he’d thought he’d heard in her voice before? “It is one of the least reliable methods of information retention and transmission. I conclude from your limited knowledge that critical elements have been lost from these stories over time.”
Link and Gaepora glanced at one another. He didn’t think he’d ever heard someone criticise the breadth of the headmaster’s knowledge before. Instructors like Owlan or Horwell might have more depth of knowledge in the subjects they were interested in, but Headmaster Gaepora was widely accepted to be one of the most widely-read people anywhere in the sky.
Fi dropped gracefully to ground level again, moving as if landing despite her feet never actually touching the floor. “The one born to wield the sacred blade shall be guided by the one born of the blade, who was created in the service of the goddess. He shall be the goddess’ chosen hero, for it is his spirit that is unbreakable. He shall be burdened with the task of eradicating the shadow of apocalypse from the world. Such is his destiny.”
She was looking directly at them. Why did Link almost feel that there was something she deliberately wasn’t looking at?
“With the spirit of the blade at his side, he shall soar above the clouds and travel below… and, united with the spirit maiden, shall bring forth a piercing light to burn away the shadow and resurrect the land.”
Below the clouds? With a pang, Link remembered Zelda, only hours ago, telling him she wanted to find out what was beyond them some day. Was that… where she was now?
“Master, you must embark on a journey beneath the clouds to the vast realm below that you call the surface. It is only through this journey that you can fulfil the mission set before you by my creator, the goddess. It is also the only method available for you to reunite with the spirit maiden, honourable Zelda.”
If that was true, then it was barely a choice at all. Link could still see her falling away below him in his mind’s eye, see himself reaching for her and failing. He had to find her. Whatever else Fi said, so vast he could hardly take it in, he would face as it came. He’d have to.
Seeing the shifts in his stance, in his expression, the headmaster spoke up again.
“This is no easy task she speaks of, Link. The world below is surely forsaken by the goddess, and to reach it you would have to find a way to pierce the cloud barrier. No-one has ever done this in living memory, or if they have, they have never returned.”
“I know,” Link said quietly.
Before them, Fi stretched out her arms, gracefully sweeping them in front of her. The gem set into the sword glowed briefly, and suddenly, between where perhaps her hands should have been if she had them beneath the draping folds, a piece of broken-looking stone grew from palm-size to head-size in moments. Apart from the fact that it was still floating seemingly unsupported, turning gently as it did, it looked almost as if she’d taken it from a carrying pouch like the one Link himself wore. Fi gestured, and the stone – part of a broken tablet? – floated towards him. He took it in his free hand uncertainly, feeling nothing more than a faint, cool almost-familiarity for an instant as he did, in the moment before his hand was bearing its full weight. It was stone, solid stone by the feel of it, blank on one side but engraved on the other with an almost map-like pattern, a green diamond gem inset among the engravings.
“This tablet will illuminate a path through the clouds to the land below,” she told him calmly. “You must place it within the altar behind me.”
Link looked beyond her, noticing for the first time that there was indeed an altar against the far wall, set into a curved alcove. An empty rectangular shape suggested something was missing, and was more than big enough to hold the piece of tablet. Fi drifted out of the way as he started forward, stepping carefully around the small pedestal that had held the sword, and watched as he one-handedly set the piece in the frame. It was the right thickness, and as he slid it into the bottom-right corner, the gem glowed with an inner light. Link felt a rush of power flow through the room around him for a few moments, upwards into the statue above, before fading away.
“Master Link, it is done,” Fi confirmed from behind him, and he turned to listen. “Setting the tablet into place has opened a small rift in the cloud barrier. You will be able to descend in relative safety at a location I shall pinpoint for you. Since I reside within your sword, I shall be with you at all times, so there will be no difficulty in locating it.”
With that, she ‘leapt’ – still without touching the ground – into the air, blurring as she did into an ill-defined orb of light that vanished into the sword Link still held in his left hand. It didn’t feel any different, but then, he’d already thought that he could feel something… feel her... in its touch. He and the headmaster alike both gazed at it for a long, silent moment before the older man finally spoke.
“Link… I know almost nothing about the surface, or this ‘shadow of apocalypse’ this spirit, Fi, speaks of.” He glanced again at the sword. “But this is the Chamber of the Goddess that I have read of and wondered how to enter all these years… and so I must believe her when she says she is a servant of the goddess. This is the holiest place that perhaps has ever existed anywhere in the sky. So I must also believe her when she tells you that our Zelda is her ‘spirit maiden’, and that you and she have some great role to play.”
Left unsaid, perhaps, was the other side of the medallion: that if the headmaster did not believe her in any one thing, he could not believe her in all – and if he could not believe her at all, then they were no closer to finding Zelda, and she might indeed already be dead. Fi offered him hope beyond the sliver he had found in his books, and he clung to it as tightly as Link did.
“Only think that even now she must indeed be alive, and coming to terms with this same knowledge of a task the goddess has set before you both.” He set a hand gently on Link’s right shoulder. “I cannot in good conscience demand this of you, Link. I do not even know what dangers you will face. Even now I wish to call my loftwing and fly to this gap in the clouds myself to search for my daughter. But it may be you are the only one who can find it, and it is all bound to this task set before you…” He took a deep breath. “I cannot demand it, but I can ask it… as a father, not, for once, as your headmaster. Will you find my daughter and bring her safely back to us, Link?”
Link nodded firmly, more certain and more determined than he had ever felt. “I swear I will.” He, too, glanced at the sword in his hand. “I’ll find her, Headmaster. Whatever we have to do.”
“Thank you.” Headmaster Gaepora cleared his throat, desperate gratitude in his eyes. “Come. If you are to set out on this journey, you will need to be both fully recovered and well-rested. Though I don’t know if I will be able to sleep either… but it’s important that you at least try.”
Again, Link nodded. He didn’t feel even remotely able to sleep, but he could see the wisdom in the headmaster’s advice. While he no longer felt the confusion and disorientation he had when he awoke, flying tired would be inviting trouble, even without the unknown dangers of the mythical surface. The headmaster turned, and he fell into silent step at his side – until, after only three steps, Gaepora stopped.
“What is that…”
He veered off to the left, towards the edge of the chamber, some little way around from the entryway. Link frowned: was there a shape in the shadows, not far from the entrance? Slowly, uncertainly, he followed, the nameless dread that had shrouded his heart as he stood atop the Goddess’ hands back and growing with every step.
Gaepora reached the shape and held up a hand behind himself as if to stop Link from approaching any closer, but though the young student halted, he was already close enough to make out what was slumped in the shadows. There was a body there, a dark shape in the darkness, centuries old. Nothing was recognisable in withered flesh and ancient bone, fragments of stained fabric and rusted metal. He took an unconscious step back, transfixed and wanting nothing more than to look away.
“...Link.”
He blinked. The headmaster was turning around. Link tried to focus on him, but his eyes kept darting to the side.
“Go now,” he said gently. “This poor soul will wait another night. I shall keep the gates locked so that none disturb this place.” He stepped sideways, breaking Link’s line of sight to the body. “I’ll return here in daylight and see to this. You focus on your journey ahead.”
Link’s breath seemed caught in his throat. He nodded wordlessly, and began a quick, jolting walk back to the entrance. The sword in his hand felt suddenly reassuring as more than just a weapon, though he couldn’t have said why and its spirit was silent. Headmaster Gaepora followed close behind as he climbed the handful of steps and emerged gratefully into the cold night wind, taking several deep breaths, whatever shadow had fallen over him beginning to lift again.
They walked back to the Knight Academy in silence, the headmaster pausing only to lock the gates behind them. Gaepora left Link at his door only after Link had insisted he was all right, and only then after extracting his promise to disturb him at any hour if he felt the need to talk or simply wanted company. His mind uneasily filled with a thousand strange things, Link lay for a long time simply staring at the ceiling, his new sword lying just beneath the edge of his bed. All the darkness of the last day seemed to frame the path he was starting down.
But he had to find Zelda…
Notes:
Many thanks for the comments; it really is great to hear from people!
It amused me last time, so here we go again!
Patch Notes:
- Headmaster does not in fact know how to open the magical door. If it was easy, someone else would have done it by now.
- Magical door does not teleport.
- Torches do not burn without fuel forever.
- Headmaster is actually surprised to see Fi and would like to know what the heck she is please.
- Headmaster continues to have normal human emotion, poor chap.
- Plot threads are picked up from the backstory (see Out of Time and A Hunger to Swallow the World).
- Hero Mode game mechanic message now also has meaning to the plot; this thread is a precursor to another relevant element that is in the game.
What's that you say? What's going on here, you don't remember this? Well, one day all the threads will come together – and in the meantime, speculate away!
[Hero mode game mechanic message: "The memories of violent battles surge within this sword when you raise it to the sky. Your Skyward Strike is now at maximum strength!"]
Chapter Text
The familiar wind blew through Link’s hair as he flew, once again headed south of Skyloft. The shapes and directions of familiar islands in the distance told him he wasn’t far from where he and Zelda had been flying just yesterday, and hope and fear mingled into a knot of tension in his chest. From the Academy, he’d been given his final-class outfit that marked him as a Knight almost ready to finish his training, colours chosen for his year from the traditional set of greens and browns. He’d also been given his armour, and a shield, and permission to carry the Goddess Sword, now slung across his back. And he’d been given good-luck wishes, though he’d set out as soon as he possibly could, leaving it to Headmaster Gaepora to explain what was going on.
Link wasn’t entirely sure he could have explained any of it himself anyway.
A strange sound like a brief series of soft chimes echoed in his mind, seeming to come from the sword on his back, and he glanced reflexively over his shoulder. It was difficult to tell in the light of day, but the pale hilt seemed to be glowing faintly.
You have almost reached the location of the opening in the cloud barrier, Master. Descend, and you will observe a break in the clouds below.
It was Fi’s voice, unheard yet felt, almost like communicating with his own loftwing, except that the words were crystal clear and precise as the point of a sword. Smart though the birds were, they more felt than spoke, communicating with their partner in a medley of impressions and understandings. Link’s loftwing sensed his desire and dove; felt his approval at the action, his tension at the unknown ahead. Still their resolves were united: find flockmate despite danger, the clouds below an eternal barrier at the base of their world that, if Fi was right, would open before them.
The loftwing’s discomfort grew as they neared the clouds, just as it always had. Almost everyone flew low at least once, invariably finding their bird would grow so uncomfortable on nearing the top of the cloud barrier that no amount of persuasion or cajoling could induce them to go further, and quite often the birds’ instinctive sense that the clouds were a bad place would be so strong as to overtake their rider, too, sending the pair fleeing back upwards. Link levelled out again, searching the seemingly peaceful billows below, a faint sense of direction seeming to emanate from his sword. Ahead and to his right – sharp eyes scanning the clouds, he finally saw it, a dip in their otherwise unbroken cover.
Wanting to hurry, knowing he had to be cautious, Link veered to fly over the gap in the clouds, he and his bird alert for the slightest hint of danger. It was small, surprisingly sudden, not quite smooth-edged as little ragged wisps of cloud strayed into it and dissolved. Below, Link could see only a deep green colour, like a wood-farmer’s plot in shadow.
Down there!
For a moment, they began to circle down, looking for their lost flockmate – but the loftwing’s discomfort, already high, rose unbearably.
Cannot go not-safe – but flockmate in danger – cannot go do-not-descend-cannot!
The bird’s discomfort was so intense it was almost physical: Link felt he might be sick as he relented, letting them circle back up, half-unconsciously talking in a soothing undertone and smoothing his companion’s feathers.
“Easy, easy…”
He felt anything but soothing, despite the front he tried to present to his loyal, brave loftwing. If they couldn’t fly down, how would he ever get there?
Master, the voice of Fi said calmly in his mind, you are still in possession of a sailcloth. You must use it to descend further.
Of course – Zelda’s ceremonial gift to him! He hadn’t unpacked it from his things when he transferred the belt pouches to his new outfit, not wanting to lose what might have been his last connection to his best friend. Hastily, letting his loftwing steer an easy circle alone, Link pulled it out, holding it in front of him for a moment as he searched for the strapping at the corners, glad he and Zelda had taken the time to refold it properly. The memory sent another pang through him, and he held the cloth close for a long moment.
It still smelt ever so faintly of Zelda.
Telling himself firmly to keep moving, Link locked his hands into the straps, gripping the folds of the sailcloth and drawing it, still folded, taut across his loftwing’s back.
“I’m going to jump,” he said aloud, reinforcing the impression he knew the bird had already felt. “Don’t catch me.”
Before there could be any coherent opposition, he swung his leg over his loftwing’s back and dived. The distance between them grew several times a loftwing’s length in the first second alone, a protesting squawk from above blown away in the rushing wind of his fall. Link felt the frustration growing to desperation above and tried to project that he was safe, that he knew what he was doing, that he would be fine, even as the distance attenuated their link to its vanishing point. He spread his limbs, slowing and guiding his fall, as the deep green beneath him rapidly resolved: darker surrounding lighter, then brown, a grey smudge to one side but mostly forming circles within circles, or no, a spiral. The dark green looked like trees: he couldn’t land there, but the lighter green and brown – some kind of spiralling hole or valley – seemed to offer a clear landing site. The same unreasoning dread he’d felt when falling before rose within him, and he sideslipped sharply, aiming to land off-centre, as close to its edge as he could.
When he released the sailcloth, slowing his fall with a jolt, he was only just clear of the branches, and only a handful of seconds later found himself landing on what felt like mossy stone, the sailcloth falling in folds around him. Link hastily released the straps, pulling the fine, light cloth off himself and sweeping it aside until he could see again. Where he stood, everything seemed… alive. From the mossy stones beneath his feet to the grass sprouting to either side to the trees taller than any he’d seen before towering above, it was the opposite of anything he’d expected. Strange, almost musical sounds came from the branches, and as he gazed around, he spotted motion – tiny miniature birds, some smaller even than his closed fist, none so much as the size of his head. They were singing, warbling sounds a far cry from a loftwing’s squawk. Even the air felt strange: thick, heavy, otherworldly with strange and familiar smells of greenery and rich soil far stronger than he’d ever known them, only the very faintest of winds to stir it. In stark contrast to everything he’d ever heard, to the nameless fear still lurking below his heart, it was alive, mysterious, and almost inviting.
Reminding himself to focus on what needed to be done, he knelt again, beginning to refold the sailcloth back into a surprisingly small, neat bundle, straps towards the outside for easy access, the Goddess’ emblem half-visible on the opposite side. The whistling and warbling of the tiny birds continued as he stowed it back in its pouch, apparently undeterred by his motions; some had even landed only a few paces away, pecking at whatever they could find amongst the overgrown stones.
Link stood again, looking around more slowly – only to take half a pace back in surprise as, with a subtle chime more felt than really heard, Fi vaulted from the sword on his back to hover directly in front of him.
“Analysis confirms that you have reached the location termed the Sealed Grounds. Please proceed with caution, Master.”
Link gave a slow nod, and Fi drifted to the side, just out of his line of sight as he looked around. The lip of the hollow was somewhat to his left, far enough from him that he couldn’t see to the bottom. A half-crumbled stone wall separated him from the huge trees to his right, vanishing into them further ahead, and beyond that – Link frowned: was that a building, or the remains of one, shrouded in greenery somewhat less than a quarter of the way around from him? Fi vanished back into the sword as he stepped forward, venturing slowly along the half-hidden paving and leaving his landing site behind.
As he drew closer, Link saw it was indeed a building: the half-open dome shape he had seen only the front of something much larger, draped in greenery and surrounded by trees, a spired roof rising up through them. The stonework was crumbling, and whatever front the half-dome might have once had was long since lost to the ages, something of a drop in front of it shored up and the stone within extended out by worn-looking wooden planking. Something seemed wrong about it, somehow…
He jumped as, once again, Fi vaulted out of the blade with that half-heard chime, this time hovering just to his right.
“Your intuition is correct, Master. The passage of time evident in the construction of the building ahead is inconsistent with the maximum age of the wooden platform you now observe.”
Link glanced at her, head tilted slightly. How had she known? Could she tell what he was looking at? She’d spoken into his mind earlier, somehow.
“It is likely that this region is inhabited in some fashion,” Fi continued. “You are advised to remain cautious. There is an 85% probability that the majority of surface-dwelling beings capable of complex construction are hostile.”
He swallowed, nodding again and advancing more cautiously, each step careful as he set foot on the wide wooden platform, which held his weight with barely a creak. There was a large, heavy-looking pair of double doors at the back of the half-dome, and no other immediately obvious entrance, nor any further sign of anything intelligent, hostile or otherwise. The wooden floor ran all the way across the front to the lip of the hollow on the other side, where its roughly spiralling shape offered a somewhat gentler route down.
Link’s breath caught as a chill ran through him like a shadow passing over his soul, the very world around him seeming to darken for a brief moment. The faint sense of dread that had been with him almost since he leapt from his loftwing suddenly amplified tenfold, and he knew, knew without even knowing how, that something vast and terrible lurked below. He wanted to run; he had to see; and almost without a conscious decision he found himself taking the three or four slow, unwilling steps to the edge of the wooden platform and gazing down.
As wide and deep as an inverted island, there seemed to be a kind of standing stone at the very bottom, in its exact centre. Surrounding it, strange patterns looked almost burnt into the short grass or perhaps moss: patterns of brown and death against ailing pale green. And rising from it like the opposite of a heat haze, insubstantial tendrils of wavering shadow…
Darkness seemed to rush past him, and Link raised his arms to shield himself, instinctively shutting his eyes against it as he flinched away. The sound of the world around faded to silence; the cloud-filtered light of the sun faded away; even the very ground beneath his feet faded, leaving him hanging in nothingness. He was surrounded by red-tinged blackness, slowly lowering his arms and looking around, but there was nothing to see – until he looked down. Blacker than black, a stain of gnawing void lurked below him, swallowing all light though there was none left to swallow. As he watched, it seemed to grow; to become a gaping maw wide enough to consume the world-
A sudden pain shot through his head, through every part of him, so intense he could have cried from it. Link pressed his left hand to his forehead, then his right, almost cradling his head as it began to abate, leaving behind something ominous, something worse, about to crash down on him. He lifted his head instead, trying to focus on what was in front of him instead of anywhere his feelings might have taken him, only to see the same thing, the ominousness given form in the vast maw now rising up before him, an impression of scales in red-black on blackness, of towering immensity, of a hunger that would devour him.
It bent towards him. Link made himself reach for the sword he carried, his hand locking around the hilt, but it felt so small and its light so faint, it couldn’t protect him. As the impossible hunger dived upon him, he flinched, cowering back, trying futilely to shield himself with his arms though it could trivially consume him whole, helpless against the inevitable...
There was no pain.
Slowly, Link cracked open one eye.
He was standing on the edge of the pit, on a wooden platform built by who knew what, solid under his feet. He could hear the sounds of leaves rustling, of the tiny birds singing in the distance. As he lowered his arms slowly, uncertainly, he realised he was just one pace back from the edge. Had he stepped back? Glancing from side to side, he braced himself, forced himself to look down again.
The standing stone seemed cloaked in shadow.
“Master Link,” Fi said from beside him, and he turned sharply. He hadn’t even noticed her emerge. “Visual inspection shows that the seal below us is at minimal power. It must be reinforced.”
“Right…” Link murmured distractedly. Yes, reinforcing any kind of seal, anything to stop whatever it was would be good. He blinked, forcing himself to focus on Fi. Her emotionless calm was almost reassuring. “Uh… how?”
“The pillar you observe below is the key to the seal, Master. You must approach it, and when you are within range, raise your sword skyward as you did previously in the Chamber of the Sword. This will charge the blade with power. Swing your sword as if to strike, and that power will be released. This has been termed a Skyward Strike.” She paused, again seeming to mark a change of subject. “The power that charges within your blade is of the same nature as the seal itself. Applying it to the seal’s key will be sufficient to provide reinforcement for a short time.”
“I… I understand.”
I have to do this? Link wanted to protest. He didn’t want to go anywhere near that thing, even as an awful fascination drew him closer, made him look again at the shadow-shrouded pillar far below. He wanted nothing more than to leave this place forever. But if he did, if whatever was down there escaped…
Fi returned to the sword, and Link stood for a long moment, looking down at the shadowed stone. A sudden wind blew across the hollow, ruffling his hair, bringing with it all the strange, heady, heavy scents of the surface. Link closed his eyes, breathing deeply for one last moment. A leaf blew by as he opened them again, and he turned, watching it, subconsciously relieved to finally have an excuse of sorts to look away. It left him gazing into the half-dome, at the old double doors and what might have been scuff marks in the moss in front of them. Was Zelda beyond those doors, somewhere? Was she safe? Injured? In trouble?
Link turned slowly towards the roughly spiralling slope that led down into the hollow. If Zelda was out there… then he couldn’t leave this behind him to break free and find her. Gathering his resolve, he started down.
The terrible fascination of the seeping shadow grew ever stronger as he descended, though he stayed close to the sheer rocky sides of the pit, well back from the eroded edge of the spiral slope. His steps grew slower, heavier, his heart racing as, finally, he reached the roughly level ground at its base, level with the pillar, a triangular stone easily as tall and wide as he was and carved with strange etchings, all of them blurred and half-disguised by darkness. Link drew his sword, glowing brighter than it had before, as he approached.
Stopping just outside the whirls and arcs of dead moss on the mossy, stony ground, he raised the sword into the air, looking at it as its blade caught the light, filled with it; as-
Light shone in the blade, light pitted against darkness and something looming over it all, something vast coming towards him through the ruins – it hurt, it hurt so much – clinging vainly to the sword, a last spark of light where it rested across his chest pushing the darkness back for a precious moment-
There was a scream threaded through it, and he didn’t think it was his own, another voice screaming in uncomprehending anguish.
-driven to one knee, forced himself to stand, the images were in no kind of order, falling when he could hold himself up no longer, he could feel the evil, the hunger coming for him, pulling the sword weakly to himself-
“Young man!”
That wasn’t his voice, and it wasn’t the scream, pitch-perfect and unbroken, threaded through everything, somehow all the more awful in its incomprehension.
“You, who came from the sky! Swing that sword towards the evil aura, now!”
Link reacted on reflex, slashing downwards as if he could cut through the images and feelings assaulting him. A wave of light and power swept from the blade, pure as a clear noon sky, seeming to cleave through the shadows. As it struck the pillar, all the symbols on it flared into brilliant life, the wisps of shadow rising from the ground fading slowly into nothingness.
He was standing alone on the stony ground at the bottom of the pit, sword in hand, an ornately carved triangular pillar before him at the centre of a complex pattern of dead and dying moss, diffuse sunlight filtering through the clouds above. Gasping despite the thick, heavy air of the surface, Link staggered backwards a couple of paces and fell to his knees, shaking. What was that? What had happened?
There were no answers, but simple time served to calm his breathing a little, his racing heart. Whatever it had been, it was over. He focused on what was in front of him: his hands in his lap, mostly hidden by his fingerless gloves, left still locked around the Goddess Sword’s pale hilt.
“Fi?” he ventured, quietly. Seconds stretched out into silence as there was no response, and he tried again.
“Fi?”
Abruptly, the sword glowed back into life, Fi’s otherworldly form springing from it, floating a pace or so in front of him with her back to the pillar.
“Master Link.” Her voice was calm and still as blue stained glass, her blank eyes gazing directly at him.
“Are you… all right?”
Fi seemed to consider the question. “I am undamaged. It appears that I have encountered a processing error, delaying my ability to respond to you. I apologise, Master.”
“Um, it’s all right. You don’t have to.” That wasn’t what I was asking. Whatever a ‘processing error’ meant. Had it been her voice he’d heard? He couldn’t imagine Fi screaming, even silently. “That was… whatever happened, that was awful.” You felt it too, didn’t you?
Fi gazed at him for a moment longer, then turned, looking at the pillar. “Your Skyward Strike was sufficient to reinforce the seal. This reinforcement has critically decreased the degree to which the evil aura is able to seep from it into this world.” Was she ignoring him? Or did she just not think his words needed a response? “Due to this decrease, I am now able to detect other auras and sources of power in the immediate area.”
Link listened, unsure of where this was leading.
“Amongst these auras, there is one that bears a near-one-to-one correspondence to the traces remaining on your sailcloth. I surmise that this aura belongs to your friend, honourable Zelda.”
Link shot to his feet, a sudden rush of hope washing through him. “Where? Where is she?”
“Unfortunately, the aura I detect is merely a trace of recent passage. However, I can guide you in the direction in which it is strongest. There is a 98% probability that this will be the direction in which she travelled.”
Link nodded emphatically. “Please. Which way did she go?”
Fi raised one graceful ‘arm’ to gesture upwards, towards the ruined building they had been standing outside not long before. “You will need to pass through the building above. I will be able to provide more precise directions as we grow closer.”
He nodded again, turning back to head up the spiralling slope as Fi once again returned to the sword. As he climbed, he couldn’t help glancing over the side a few times at the pillar, now almost deceptively innocuous amidst the strange patterns of dead moss surrounding it. Was the building above, too, connected to the evil that lurked below?
What did all of this mean for Zelda?
Notes:
I've been waiting to get this one out! I hope you enjoyed the read as much as I did writing it!
Back by popular demand,
Patch Notes:
- Proto-"Blade of Evil's Bane" now detects evil correctly.
- Skyward Strike tutorial moved to more suitable location.
- Loftwings now react to the loss of their rider.
- "Forcing" sequence preventing the player from running away reconfigured to more character-appropriate variant, reflecting cutscenes.
- Max-level powers removed from Impa.
- Plot threads previously alluded to continue to appear.
Chapter Text
Link tentatively pushed the ancient stone door. It moved slightly, and only that, rocking the smallest fraction on its ancient hinges. Fresh scuffs on the mossy stone told him that it had only recently been opened – had they been there when he’d passed before? He couldn’t remember.
He set his shoulder to the door and pushed hard. Grating on its stiff hinges across the floor beyond, it opened only slowly, but with a kind of inexorability only heavy stone could have. Link stopped pushing once the gap was wide enough to step through, looking cautiously inside.
It was lighter than he’d quite expected. Sunlight made weak and watery by the clouds above shone down through holes in the roof, illuminating a vast, high-ceilinged hall. A strange raised tongue of stone ran down the middle, broken towards the far end: six steps up, the top two strangely different to those below. Roughly halfway along, arches to the left and a door to the right further broke up the walls, bare branches snaking in from outside through holes in the stonework and half-concealing the ancient statues and carvings that once lined them. At the far end, steps rose to a great pair of doors, light shining through the uneven crack between them and falling on…
Link frowned. There was a red shape there, almost like a shrouded figure, seated in front of the doors. Slowly, he ventured towards it, walking to the left of the tongue of stone and glancing through the arches as he passed. There was nothing beyond but another gently crumbling space with a hole in the ceiling through which light shone, illuminating a lushly green patch of grass and flowers. A little wooden stool stood in one corner, tiny and mundane. He looked swiftly back to the red-robed figure. It hadn’t moved.
Still slowly, Link continued towards the stairs, setting his foot on the first. Had the figure’s head turned towards him?
“Fi?” he whispered. The sword chimed inaudibly in his mind, responding in silence.
I do not detect evil within the being ahead, Master.
That was something, Link supposed. He took another cautious step, and another, until at last he reached the top. The face within the hood was visible now, lined and seamed with age, a white braid hanging down past one side and swaying gently, rhythmically, with its – her? – breathing. Sitting cross-legged and hunched over, beneath the point of her hood, which tilted up in a manner that reminded Link faintly of Fi’s strange, unreal hair, she barely came up to his waist.
Her eyes opened, sharp and bright as a bird’s, and she showed no surprise as she looked directly at him.
“Ahh… welcome, child of fate.” Her voice, too, was an old woman’s, softly spoken and strangely accented, her words considered and yet seeming to conceal a kind of suppressed excitement. Link blinked at her: she seemed at once outlandish and at the same time too normal, too mundane, to possibly exist on the surface, so close to the evil he had just encountered.
“You are the traveller who descended from the clouds above… and you bear the sacred Goddess’ Sword.” She smiled, the lines of her face rewriting themselves. “Tell me, what is your name?”
“Er, Link.” He paused. Something about her voice sounded almost familiar. “My name’s Link.”
“Link?” She pronounced it oddly, as if she were testing the word, and then a second time even more strangely. “Ah, Link. Good. Very good.”
“…Is it?” What did his name mean to her?
The old woman nodded, the intricate knot at the end of her braid swaying with the motion. “I have been waiting for you. For the one who bears the sacred blade. The power that awoke within it below is proof that you are fit to do so.”
She’d seen him? Then- a moment almost forgotten amidst everything that had happened around it came back to him, and suddenly it made sense: that was why her voice was familiar.
“You were the one who shouted to me!”
The old woman smiled again. “I was, indeed. You stood against the evil below, and you have strengthened the seal upon it, for a time.” She drew a slow, measured breath, and it seemed that her next words were almost a recitation. “Now you stand in this ancient sealed temple, a place once built in honour of the goddess in a time passed beyond memory. Your arrival here was predestined by the goddess so very many years ago, along with that of the spirit maiden.”
“Zelda!” It was the very same phrase Fi had used, and Link spoke without thinking, another spark of hope igniting within him, almost painful in its intensity. “Did you see her? Was she here?”
The old woman raised her thin hands, gnarled and bent with age, as if to soothe him. “I did see her, yes, the one called Zelda. She arrived here just yesterday, descending from above in a shower of light just as you came borne upon the wind. There is no doubt about it now… that which was predestined is coming to pass.” A shadow passed over her expression. “But it has not begun as it should have. The spirit maiden was not meant to reach this land as she did. The evil power that still preys upon this land has wrought its will for many generations, and I fear that it moves even now to warp the destiny in which you and she are bound.”
That could mean nothing good. “Where is she?” The weight of all that had happened just outside seemed to loom ominously over him.
“Your concern for her is admirable.” The old woman sighed, troubled. “You were meant to arrive together, and travel apart; this was the course of destiny that the goddess set. Now you have arrived apart and alone, and I can only say what you were meant to do. The one called Zelda has left to search this forest, the Faron Woods, to discover that destiny for herself, and in this you must follow her.”
Link nodded at once.
“Let me give you something for your guidance…” She reached a bony hand into the voluminous folds of her patterned red robe, withdrawing a folded parchment. “This is a map my people have made showing notable landmarks in this region.” The old woman smiled briefly as if at some private joke. “It is drawn most accurately.”
Link took the map from her, unfolding it. Worn in its creases, it bore a compass rose in its top right corner, and was marked in a clear but strange script with names he didn’t know. He guessed he was in the region labelled “Great Seal”.
“But you must be careful,” the woman continued. “As many foul creatures as fair have made their home here over the generations, and the land is unfamiliar to you of the sky. I would aid you, were I half a lifetime younger… and those who should be here with me have left to aid Zelda.” Her bright eyes flicked from Link’s to the swordhilt visible over his shoulder. “It is said that the spirit of the sword has boundless knowledge. May it guide you as you travel, though I cannot.”
Link nodded once. “Thank you. I’ll be careful.” Hope and fear warred within him, determination stronger than either. He would find Zelda.
The old woman smiled one last time. “Then go with this old woman’s blessings. If there is anything in this temple that is of use to you, I give it freely… and if you should seek shelter, know that you will find it here. The eye of my people is always upon this place, and the great seal it guards.”
“Thank you.” Link turned, hesitated, glanced back, and saw her gesture to the side doors. With a quick nod of thanks, he hurried down the steps and across to them, setting his shoulder to the ancient stone to push it aside. The place he had landed in already seemed vaster, at once brighter and more threatening, than he would ever have imagined – and somewhere in it, Zelda was wandering even more lost than he was.
Notes:
Among other things, I also removed the two-storey hat. Can you imagine what would happen if she sneezed?
Patch Notes:
- Game tutorials substituted for reason to have a map.
- NPCs no longer speak for Link.
- "You're looking for Zelda. You have your own path and cannot follow Zelda. Follow Zelda." lines removed.
- Ninja population increased to viable levels.
- Ceremonial hood requiring 20 servants replaced with ceremonial hood suitable for old lady.
- Inexplicable voice explained.
- [Spoilers redacted.]
Chapter Text
The heavy doors opened into a landscape richer and lusher than anything Link had ever seen. Staring around himself in wary amazement, he realised that the pit at the end of the temple, verdant and pleasant to look at though it was, was all but lifeless compared to the rest of the surface around it. The songs of the little birds layered across one another in a melodic cascade, all but drowning out the muted rustle of leaves in the wind – the forest seemed a place of music that could not be silenced, a far cry from the silent stands of trees on the islands above, where the humming of the insects and the occasional call of a loftwing were the main sounds to be heard above the ceaseless winds.
He ventured forward slowly, the stone underfoot blanketed in moss and then in soil. Tall, strong trees grew everywhere, seemingly heedless of the hummocked forest floor, some of its mounds and dips taller than Link himself. Something about their ragged, uneven contours nagged at his mind, and he turned to look back at the temple behind him, its ancient stone cloaked in vines and draped with branches where in places a tree had grown up directly beside the wall. Although parts of the roof had fallen in, and he could see the cracks where stubborn branches had pushed their way inside, it still seemed sturdy, the spires on the roof still lofted through the trees. Link wasn't sure what he was looking for, and yet…
As he turned back, Fi appeared once more, vaulting from his sword with the gentle, almost whistling chime he was beginning to recognise.
"Master, the region you are in has long been known as Faron. It is heavily forested. The plentiful water and temperate climate clearly continues to sustain a large diversity of flora and fauna, including the exceptionally massive tree I have detected to the east-north-east of your current location." She gestured gracefully, and Link turned to look. At first, what he was seeing hints of through the canopy didn't really register; then, as the upper branches continued to sway in the wind, he finally perceived the vast green 'hill' in the background beyond them.
"That's a tree?"
Fi nodded, once. "It is of greater size than any tree previously recorded. There is a 90% probability that you will be able to use it as a navigational aid from anywhere within a fifty kilometre radius of its location."
Right. Just like navigating by the position of the islands. It suddenly dawned on him how easy it would be to get lost on the surface. The trees all around acted like constant cloud cover, restricting his view. They muffled the wind, even if he'd known how it behaved at this altitude. They and the clouds above even hid the position of the sun from him.
"The area surrounding this temple was once a city," Fi continued. "Analysis suggests that much of this landscape is shaped by its remains. As you travel further from the Sealed Grounds, you may encounter other significant features."
Her words put a name to the prompting of his instincts, and Link stared again at the nearest hummock, its uneven, almost ragged contours redefined as tumbled stone beneath a blanket of soil. Had the uneven mounds and ditches ahead once been buildings and streets? What would it have looked like?
Fi's blank eyes watched him, impassive, as he turned back to her.
"Can you…" Link paused for a moment, trying to remember her words. "Can you detect Zelda's aura now?"
"Yes, Master." Fi turned her head, looking off into the forest. "Analysing the probabilities, it is likely that she remains somewhere within this forest. The traces of her aura continue in this direction." She paused, looking back, seeming to meet his eyes. "I am able to communicate this awareness to you. If you find that the sensation is insufficiently strong, grasp the hilt of the sword to strengthen our connection."
Link nodded, slowly. "Like what I felt when we were looking for the gap in the clouds?"
"Precisely," Fi confirmed. She made no further motion, but a faint sense of direction seemed to impinge on his mind a moment later, telling him in some indefinable fashion that what he sought was this way. Link was about to thank her when a new sound cut through his awareness: a strange and discordant squealing cry that set his teeth on edge. As one, he and Fi looked sharply ahead.
"Master Link, it is highly probable that that sound signifies hostility. Proceed with extreme caution." She vaulted back 'into' the swordhilt with a faint flash of light before he could respond.
Obeying her instruction, Link drew his sword, slipping his shield from his back and cautiously venturing forwards. The squealing cries continued, and another voice rose above them, deeper than any voice he had ever heard and seeming to shout words, although he couldn't make them out. Galvanised into action, Link darted up the hummock ahead of him, steadying himself a couple of times on the edge of his shield, quickly dashing across to the far side and looking down from beside a large and tilted tree.
Below him, five ungainly red-skinned figures pranced from foot to foot, waving crude-looking weapons and squealing, surrounding a huge, rock-like figure carrying a giant pack and threatening them with a heavy fist in what looked like a precarious stand-off, with none of the aggressors seeming quite willing to make the first move.
A report, Master. Fi's voice sounded in his mind, rapid but still perfectly calm. These red creatures are bokoblins. Created by demons, they have plagued this land since the ancient times. They prefer to act in groups, in which each will play a set role, and their weaponry may vary according to this role and to their surroundings. They have a crude and limited intellect, incapable of sophisticated thought. Their driving emotions are bloodlust and greed. Her words filled his thoughts far faster than she could have spoken them. I have no record of the other being. However, its manner is defensive, and it appears capable of speech. I do not detect evil from it.
Screeching louder than ever, one of the bokoblins made an abortive lunge towards the rocky figure, who swung around to face it with a shout Link thought sounded increasingly panicked, waving a threatening fist. As it did, the circle tightened – and then Link made his move, leaping down from root to rock to flatter ground and charging with a yell. Perhaps he didn't know what was happening, but he couldn't stand to watch the evil beings torment another traveller, whatever it was!
The bokoblins swung around to face the newcomer, undisciplined and aggressive. Link realised with a shock that they were only a little shorter than he was, large heads, stocky bodies, and stubby legs combining to make them look smaller. Tiny eyes squinted at him from distorted, piggy faces, a sickening smell like rotting meat assaulting him as they squealed a challenge. Link struck, using the momentum of his run, sweeping the Goddess Sword around the creature's crude blade and sinking it deep into its flesh. The shock of the impact ran up his arm in the same moment that the shock of the realisation jolted through his mind, the screeching bokoblin falling back, writhing and clutching at its side in pain. He stepped back, re-angling his shield as he did at some half-conscious prompt, another of their crude blades slamming it against his arm and embedding itself briefly in the wood. The hilt of the sword cool in his hand, he backed off again, trying to avoid being surrounded as full awareness of his environment snapped back to him.
Paying no heed to their fallen companion, two of the remaining four bokoblins were closing on him with single-minded intent, shrieking and chittering their hatred. Gritting his teeth, Link glanced from one to the other, choosing his target as he'd been taught – though no-one at the Knight Academy had ever really expected him to use the skill against a humanoid, living foe. He feinted left, to his sword side; abruptly spun to the right as the other bokoblin waved its sword in a pointless block, a sweeping blow cutting into his second attacker's side. As it dropped to the floor, he moved on, turning back to face the other, which was holding its chipped sword across its body in a poor approximation of a block. The last two had left their former quarry, coming towards him with rage in their bestial faces – he had to act! Moving quickly, Link stepped forward, throwing all of his weight and strength into slamming his shield against the bokoblin's block, sending the creature staggering backwards, its guard down. A swift stab dropped it, the Goddess Sword shearing through its flesh, and in almost the same moment another of them charged and swung at him! Link leapt away, getting his shield up in time almost as much by luck as judgement, circling it to avoid the other getting behind him. Single-minded purpose glinted in their feral eyes; they showed no sign of running. He tried a quick overhand strike while he still could, but his target brought its notched blade up to block just in time, knocking him off-balance for a desperate moment while the other struck, coming within inches of slicing into his side as he almost threw himself away, keeping his shield up between himself and his foes, backing off again as he desperately struggled to keep a level head.
His back foot knocked against something, bringing him up short; Link didn't dare spare a glance for whatever was behind him, eyes fixed on the two foes ahead. They squealed again, one slightly ahead of the other as they ran at him – Link struck out to his left while blocking the hacking swipe of the one to his right, trying to keep one attacker at bay for long enough to deal with the other, but it blocked again, the blade of the Goddess Sword catching for an instant on the notched metal, and he glanced back only just in time to catch a second attack on the edge of his shield! Both weapons were pulled back after a terrifying moment, but he was caught between them-
A motion beyond them caught his eye, and for a single moment he focused on it: the huge rocky figure, hefting a huge rectangular stone with disconcerting ease! Round purplish eyes met his, and the strange being made the beginnings of a throwing motion. Link gave a fractional nod and almost threw himself at the bokoblin on his right, battering it back with sword and shield and utterly without finesse, risking leaving his back open for just – one – moment –
There was a blur of motion, an implausible arc of muddy rock ending in an unceremonious heavy, wet crunch from behind him, and Link used the surprise of the bokoblin he was fighting to his advantage, knocking its sword aside and striking with a yell to deliver a fatal blow. Dark blood spilled from the wound, and the creature collapsed, clutching briefly at the injury before falling still.
Link stood for a moment, panting, before he could even bring himself to look around. Five bokoblin bodies lay strewn across the forest floor, four with sword wounds and one crushed by a rock bigger than its head, and the rock-like stranger was walking towards him on short, muscular legs. He noted absently that it seemed to be barefoot, not quite taking everything in properly.
"Whew!" The voice was deep, with an almost hollow quality, putting him in mind of rocks rolling against one another, though without any harshness or grating to it. "Thanks for jumping in there to rescue me, bud!" The words were followed up with a clap on the back that felt like being hit lightly with a rock; Link staggered forwards, narrowly avoiding tripping over the dead bokoblin at his feet, and turned as he did, watching the stranger as the strangely-accented words finally filtered through his mind.
"I'm Gorko!" the rocky stranger continued. "And I owe you big for helping me out like that. I should not have let those red pests sneak up on me, but I was distracted by my latest find… Why don't you come see it, bud? I have got to show someone! And we can get out of this place."
Link nodded, swallowing hard, the aftermath of battle and the corpses around them almost overwhelmingly sickening. He didn't miss the look of relief on Gorko's face at his assent, and followed, slinging his shield back on his back, as the stony being led the way with a quick, slightly waddling step.
Gorko led him away from the battlefield and around another longer, less regular hummock, finally stopping in a sort of sheltered hollow. At first glance it looked much like anywhere else Link had seen so far – then, as Gorko gestured proudly, he noticed the statue. It looked just like some of the little statues to honour the goddess that were scattered around the islands, and just for a moment he felt absurdly homesick.
"This statue here is my latest find!" Gorko said, enthusiastically. "You look like you need a rest, so sit down and I'll tell you all about it!"
Link gave a slightly wan smile, looking around before perching himself on a fallen branch. He glanced down at the sword in his hand, intending belatedly to clean it, but the blade already seemed spotless, despite the battle he'd just fought. He checked it carefully for damage before sliding it back into the scabbard across his back and looking back up at Gorko.
"By the way, bud, what is your name?"
"Link," he answered quietly.
"Link, good! I have not met many of your kind, Link, but your name is easy to say."
Not met many… Link blinked. "Uh, what is your kind, Gorko?"
"Ah!" Gorko smiled, already wide mouth broadening further. "I am a Goron! And you are a Human, right?"
Link nodded.
"Good!" Gorko moved as if to sit down, paused, shrugged off his heavy pack and leant it against a root, then sat unconcernedly on the ground. "I have come here to research the ancient history of this very forest, bud. According to the ancient texts, it seems like many humans once lived here long ago, but – they all disappeared!" He leant forwards. "But some of the texts say that there is some kind of place up above us called the Isle of the Goddess – far up in the sky! And that that is where all of the humans went."
Startled, Link leant forwards slightly. Seeming to mistake his reaction for interest, Gorko kept on talking, barely even pausing for breath. "But it does not stop there! The ancient texts say these statues are like little shrines to the goddess, and that she blessed them so that they would amplify a traveller's bonded call! Now I do not know what that means, bud, but I am going to find out. Some people say that I am crazy to believe all of these old writings, but I am sure it must be true! Otherwise, why would all of these ruins be here all over the place, and these statues too, just like the texts describe? The mysteries of this place are a real head-scratcher, bud. It makes you want to know more, does it not?"
Unable to help smiling a little at his newfound friend's enthusiasm, Link nodded, and Gorko's dark amethyst eyes lit up even brighter. "Ah, it is so good to meet a fellow connoisseur of ancient cultures! And of course you would be interested since you are a human and these ancient people were human too, is that not right? Well, I have been searching for and reading these texts for many years, so you had better brace yourself, because I am about to blow your mind. So get this: the people still actually live on this sky island today! And they get about by flying on the backs of giant birds that are way bigger than any birds we get down here!"
Gorko still didn't pause for breath, and Link had to hide his smile, listening amazed as the goron continued elaborating on his story, building a strange tissue of truth, half-truth, and outright inanity that, somehow, Link could still recognise a description of Skyloft inside. How did Gorko know? What was in these 'ancient texts' he had discovered? The enthusiastically rambling conversation helped to settle his nerves, pushing the battle further from his mind, and he studied the goron as he spoke, listening with undisguised curiosity.
Gorko was taller than him, and significantly broader, rocky skin a rich sandstone colour, with a more grey-brown, almost cracked 'shell' on his curved back. Wide-set, perfectly round eyes and a broad mouth were only barely separated by a tiny, upturned nose, and a different texture of rock atop his head, above his eyes, and on his chin gave the impression of pointed hair, spiky eyebrows, and a little beard. What Link guessed were his ears were just two holes on the sides of his head, and his muscular body and limbs were painted or tattooed – could you tattoo someone who seemed to be made of rock? – with lines, arcs, and symbols in a pale cream colour. Other than the paint and the little bag slung over his shoulder, he was completely naked, hands and feet so human it was almost uncanny. He looked for all the world as if someone had taken a huge sandstone boulder and somehow cracked it so that it could uncurl in a humanoid shape and walk around.
"...filled with wonders we do not have here. The buildings must all be made of gold! An endless spring of mystical water feeds a river that runs through that place – and one sip of that water, bud, and you live forever!"
Smiling, Link continued to listen as Gorko carried on describing an increasingly outlandish island paradise. Even despite the fact that he'd clearly gone on to the most bizarre rumours or legends for his attentive audience, there was still the occasional nugget of truth buried within it. How had he found it out? How did he know all of this? The flow of talk was relaxing.
"That is the Isle of the Goddess…" Gorko finally finished. "Amazing, right?"
Link nodded.
"Wrong!" Gorko shouted happily. "It is beyond amazing!" Link couldn't help but grin, and the goron did too, wide smile looking like it would split his pebble-smooth face in half. "Now you see why I am completely obsessed with this place. I cannot get enough of it! I am sure I will find even more to tell you from studying the statues here in this forest. Here, you must come and take a good look at this one!" He gestured expansively, and Link obliged, getting up and leaning back somewhat to stretch his back before walking up to the statue.
To his and Gorko's utter shock, the lines of its carvings seemed to shimmer briefly as he neared it, the faintest golden glow rising and then vanishing again. Link jumped back, startled, as behind him the goron's mouth fell open.
"WHOA! Did you see that? What in the world just happened?! Did you use some kind of magic? That statue reacted the moment you got near it, bud! What did you do?"
"I- I don't know!" Link glanced back at Gorko, who had jumped to his feet and was looking on in awe, then back to the statue. "I don't think I did anything." He paused, thinking. "Maybe… it reacts to humans? The Goddess' people were humans."
"That must be it, bud!" Gorko clapped him on the back, although this time Link had at least seen it coming and knew to brace himself. Even so, the friendly blow nearly knocked him off balance. "You would make a good researcher! Say, would you like to join me in researching these statues? If they react to humans, you would be a big help!"
The friendly enthusiasm was appealing, and if it had somehow been another time Link might have agreed to help, but he could only shake his head. "I'm sorry, but I'm looking for my friend. She's lost, and-…" He cut off, not knowing how to explain, anxiety twisting his heart.
"That is terrible, a missing friend!" Gorko looked at him sympathetically. "I have not seen your friend, bud, but I will look out for her. Is she human too?"
Link nodded again. "She's my age. She would've been wearing a pink dress. Her name's Zelda." He swallowed. "I'm worried about her. We… neither of us are from here either." How could he possibly tell Gorko about Skyloft? Would the friendly goron even believe him? And if he did, how would Link ever get away from the questions he would doubtless ask?
"And you have got separated? Do you know where she is going?"
"Um, sort of. I think so. I can track her, at least."
"Well, that is good, then, bud! You had better go after your friend, but I will still be researching the history of this forest when you get back. If I have learnt anything new, I will tell you! And be careful of those red pests. There are more and more of them around these days. They are not very bright, so you can usually go around them if you see them first."
Link nodded, a grim determination settling back over him. Zelda could defend herself, of course; she was an accomplished student… but she hadn't had a sword when she fell. The old lady in the temple had told him that some people had gone with her, and hopefully they'd been able to give her a weapon, but even so…
"Thanks, Gorko," he said, turning to go. "I hope I'll see you again soon."
"I hope so too, bud! Maybe your friend will be nearby. Good luck!"
Link waved to him and set off, following the faint sense of direction that was – he hoped – Fi's subtle prompting, hope, fear, and dread warring within him once again. Zelda had to be out there. She had to be all right.
Notes:
Hello! It's been a while, hasn't it? But the busy month is over, and my tiny little brain has recharged again. So here we are – I hope you're still reading!
Patch Notes
- Combat with unknown entities now serious business for trainee knight.
- Ability to listen to long brief while combat paused explained.
- Short-term bokoblin problem altered to long-term, matching historical information.
- Reason provided for not giving Gorko information.
- Forest size increased to extent depicted on region map.
- Save points given explicable IC function.
- Fi does not recognise gorons, due to [redacted] occurring immediately after [redacted], such that [redacted].
- Ongoing plot threads continue, incorporating [redacted].
Have a great solstice!
Chapter Text
Link had walked for what felt like hours through the tangled undergrowth of the forest, following Fi’s subtle prompting towards the giant tree. With her guidance, he’d avoided not only another group of bokoblins, but also several enormous animals, some even bigger than he was. Fi had described some of them as herbivores, others as predators, commenting that the rich plant life of the region was sufficient to sustain animals of significant size, many of which could be dangerous if provoked. Even some of the plants had proven dangerous, and Link had quickly learnt to be wary of the large, sickly-smelling, blue flower-like ones, saved from an unpleasant bite or worse from the maw of the first one he’d encountered by Fi’s emotionless warning.
He was finally nearing the great tree, towering above him and filling almost half the sky with its trunk the size of a small island, when he heard an angry squealing erupting from directly ahead. It set his teeth on edge, and he froze for an instant, searching the tangled vegetation ahead for any sign of bokoblins, hand snapping to the hilt of his sword.
In the next moment, Fi had appeared from the sword with a soft chime to float beside him.
“Master Link. I am detecting traces of Zelda’s aura associated with a being ahead, amidst the bokoblins you can now hear.”
Link gasped, drawing the Goddess Sword at once and slipping his shield from his back. Zelda!
“The being is unusually difficult to analyse at this distance. However, I am able to confirm that it is not Zelda. There is a 95% probability that it is intelligent. Its possession of traces of Zelda’s aura is highly interesting, as it implies that this being has recently associated closely with her. I recommend that you investigate this phenomenon.”
Link nodded, afraid but determined. Were the bokoblins attacking the being, whatever it was, even now? He glanced to Fi for an instant, then dashed ahead, fighting his way through the undergrowth towards the sounds and towards the subtle sense of direction made stronger by his contact with the Goddess Sword. It flickered briefly with shimmering light as Fi appeared to streak back into it, catching up with him effortlessly.
The furious screeching was replaced briefly by almost quizzical grunts as Link forced his way past a sturdy bush to abruptly stumble into a small clearing. Two bokoblins had clearly been hacking at the lush, waist-high grasses, but both had broken off to stare in his direction. Waving their weapons above their heads, they shrieked again and charged, short legs carrying them deceptively fast. Shield up and trying to keep a level head, Link sidestepped as they neared him, fouling the swing of the one he’d stepped away from by putting its companion in its way; catching the crude sword of the second on the wood of his shield. The finely-balanced Goddess Sword felt almost awkward in his usually-skilled hand as he aimed a quick slash at the creature’s temporarily unguarded side before it could yank its chipped weapon back, and it let go of its sword, staggering back with a squeal – straight into its luckless companion. Link saw the opportunity and forced himself to take it, leaping forward to strike them both down before they could disentangle themselves from one another. In another few moments it was all over, his sword impaling the collapsed second bokoblin as it twitched weakly and lay still.
Link swallowed hard, trying not to breathe too deeply as the stench of the bokoblins and the smell of their blood threatened to overwhelm him. The dead creature jerked gruesomely as he pulled the Goddess Sword from its corpse, staggering back several paces – anywhere that put him somewhere other than standing directly over the two bodies.
“Kwee…”
A strange, squeaky sound almost like a sigh of relief snapped his head around towards the centre of the clearing, reflexively raising his still-spotless sword against any further attacker. Where had it come from? He couldn’t see anything but the long grasses…
“Finally…” the squeaky voice came again, and then, to Link’s shock, a tuft of grass seemed to shrink back into a kind of bud-like shape, moments before a creature beneath it sat up! Half-visible through the long grass, it had a shape somewhat like a larger, plumper, tailless version of the rat-like climbing animals Fi had called squirrels, with short but strong-looking limbs and gripping paws that looked almost like hands. Its short-furred underbelly was the cream of fresh-cut wood, while the subtly mottled fur of its back looked almost like mossy bark. It stood up on its hind legs, little forepaws hanging down at its sides in an almost human-like pose – and then it saw Link, black-ringed eyes not even meeting his startled blue ones before it leapt away.
“Kweeeee! Now there’s a green one!” It fled up a sandy bank before Link could utter a word, wailing “Don’t hurt me!” as it disappeared into the foliage.
“-Wait!” he shouted after it, but it was already too late. Glancing at the sword still in his hand, he ventured to ask “What was that?”
Fi appeared from the sword to hover to his left, expressionless as ever. “Unknown, Master. During our brief proximity, I was able to conduct a more thorough analysis. The creature is not previously recorded, but is clearly intelligent. It has no notable offensive capability, and is possessed of exceptional natural camouflage. In addition, it appears to have a rudimentary ability to deflect attention from itself. Curiously, I detect characteristics of both animal and plant in its nature, combined in a fashion not previously observed.” She turned to look up the sandy bank, blank eyes seeming to gaze along its avenue of retreat. “Despite its sophisticated concealment, the presence of traces of Zelda’s aura upon it renders it simple to track.”
“You still can’t sense Zelda anywhere around here, can you?”
Fi shook her head. “Only the traces of her aura remain as a sign that she has passed this way. There are multiple faint traces in this vicinity. It is probable that she spent some amount of time in this area before moving on.”
Link nodded, the flicker of hope brightening within him. If Zelda had spent some time here, perhaps he was catching up. “Then let’s go after that creature and try to talk to it.”
Fi nodded, returning to the sword without further word. Link sheathed it, slinging the shield back across his back, and headed for the slope. He gave the corpses of the two bokoblins a wide berth.
Following Fi’s subtle prompting, it was relatively simple to follow the strange little creature through scrubby bushes and into another, larger clearing. A huge fallen tree laid along the middle showed clearly how it had been formed, fat mushrooms sprouting from the decaying wood and flowers and grasses luxuriant in the open space. Looking around, Link frowned. He was in the right area, but… he couldn’t see it.
“Hello?” he tried, calling out softly. “I know you’re here. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk. Hello?”
A stand of grass that Link’s eyes had already passed over, looking exactly like any other, abruptly shivered and retracted, the strange creature from before sitting up on its hind legs to look at him.
“Huh? You don’t want to… eat me?” It seemed audibly relieved. “I was so scared when those nasty red bokoblins saw me.” It shuddered, rustling the grass around it. “Even though I hid, I thought they were going to cut up all the grass and all the soil until they found me. But… you fought them off, didn’t you?”
Link nodded.
“Thanks for helping me! You’re okay, even if you are a little scary,” the creature decided, a little squeak seeming to add emphasis to the decision. When it had run from Link, it had scampered on all fours, but now it walked towards him on its hind legs with a slightly rolling gait, almost human-like in the way it pushed grass out of its way with its forepaws. With it in front of him, Link dropped to one knee: it only came up to his waist, and he felt as if he rather towered over it.
“I’m Machi,” the creature introduced itself. “What’s your name?”
“Link,” he told it. “Machi, have you seen any other humans… anyone else like me, around here recently?”
“That’s funny,” Machi chirped, “I actually did! There was another funny animal like you, but that one was more pink, and, kwee, floatier?” It held its forelimbs out pointing downwards, slightly away from its body, and Link guessed it was trying to imitate the fall of Zelda’s dress.
“Zelda!”
Machi thought for a moment. “Yes, that’s what it said its name was, kweep!” It nodded emphatically, sentences punctuated with the occasional squeak, both for emphasis and when it seemed to be looking for words. “I was sitting on a branch when it came past underneath me, being chased by a gang of those horrible bokoblins! It looked like it was in a bunch of trouble, so I told it which way to run and followed in the treetops, koo-weep. It managed to fight them off once they were all spread out a bit, kwee, but it seemed pretty shaken up. It said it wasn’t from the forest, and it was getting dark, so I took it to meet Bucha, our elder.” Machi seemed proud of itself. “He will have found it a secure hiding place to spend the night! He’s one of the best at that sort of thing, kwee-ee.”
Relief dampened the edges of Link’s worry, both emotions written clearly in his face. He couldn’t have hidden them. Zelda had been in danger – but she’d escaped it again, and this little creature had tried to take her to safety, Perhaps there was even a chance she was still there.
“Can I meet your elder too? Please?” He paused for a moment. “Zelda is my best friend. She’s lost, and I’m trying to find her. If your elder knows where she is – please?”
Machi thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Zelda was nice, kweep, and you seem nice too. I’ll take you to meet the elder! He lives this way.” It dropped to all fours, scampering away with a springy, bounding gait that again reminded Link of the much smaller ‘squirrels’, and paused on the edge of the clearing to look back. Grateful, Link followed, jogging after it as it led him towards the gigantic tree.
Notes:
There are only two ways to achieve naming consistency: either all of the species names, such as Goron, Kikwi, Bokoblin, Cucco, etc. are capitalised, and so are Human, Monkey, Cat, etc., or none of the species names are capitalised. I chose the latter.
Patch Notes
- Kikwis redesigned to cope with life in a lush forest as part of a full and vibrant ecosystem including predators.
- Origin (and eventual fate) of kikwis plot thread initialised, accounting for the lack of kikwis in any future setting. Fi does not recognise kikwis due to [redacted].
- Fellow Knight Academy student now fully combat-capable.
Chapter Text
The giant tree loomed over them, encircled by a meadow where its canopy cut off all light and its roots drew moisture and nutrition from the soil. Link could actually see the meadow beyond the two or three trees in his path when Machi abruptly stopped, sitting up on its hindlegs and looking around with a rapidity that Link felt suggested consternation.
“What’s wrong, Machi?” he asked quietly, stopping a few paces behind the forest creature. It twisted to look at him, wringing its little hands in a mannerism bizarrely, disarmingly human.
“The air feels wrong, kwee!” Machi was keeping its voice down, but the odd squeak still broke through into its words. It turned back, black-ringed eyes squinting at the forest around. “And – and look!” The exclamation was accompanied by pointing, off to Link’s right. He looked, frowning a little: the forest was huge, confusing, disconcerting. What was he looking for?
“There!” Machi squeaked. “Look, something has cut through all of the foliage!”
Now that he knew what he was looking for, Link registered the damaged undergrowth: broken branches and stems, the ends looking sticky with sap. Half cut, half splintered, he wondered worriedly what could have done it.
The next instant, Fi had vaulted lightly from the sword, her usual soft chime accompanied by a startled squeak. Machi flung itself face-down on the ground, immediately looking like nothing more than a tussock of grass, merging with the undergrowth.
“This damage appears recent, Master.” She floated towards it, drifting above the undergrowth. A small part of Link’s mind wondered whether she would push it aside or simply pass straight through it if she descended. “Closer inspection reveals that the majority of branches were cut, rather than snapped, but with a crude implement.” She was almost perfectly horizontal, still posed in her usual floating position, the invisible winds that fluttered her hair and the fabric of her arms unaffected by her change of orientation but her almost metallic face nearly brushing the uppermost leaves of the bushes in question. “The damage extends a short distance above the height of your head. I calculate an 80% probability that it was caused by bokoblins, less than twelve hours previously.”
“Kwee-eeee,” the undergrowth wailed softly. Fi’s head turned, focusing, Link thought, on the source of the voice.
“Having fully analysed the individual called Machi, I am now able to assist you in locating others of its kind.” Her emotionless gaze turned back to Link. “I recommend that you continue to accompany Machi in search of the elder named Bucha. I calculate a probability of 95% that this being will have additional information regarding Zelda’s condition and intentions.”
Link nodded. “Right.” Fi regarded him for a moment longer before drifting back towards him and vanishing into the hilt of his sword in a brief glow of light.
Looking around the clearing, Link focused on a likely-looking tuft of grass. “Machi? It’s okay. Fi’s a friend, and she’s gone now, anyway.”
The grass shivered, and a little brown-furred head almost seemed to detach itself from the soil, looking up without retracting its verdant camouflage. “Kwee… You keep very strange company.” It sounded so disgruntled, Link found himself smiling briefly, despite their situation.
“I guess I do. Can you get up, though? Fi will help us look for your elder, like she said.”
Slowly, Machi withdrew its tuft of grass and stood back up on its hind legs. “Okay, kweep. I’m really worried about everyone… They’ll be really hard to find if they’re hiding, kweek, but if we all look together we’re sure to find them!”
* * *
Machi hadn’t been exaggerating. Even with Fi’s help, tracking down the elder proved to be a remarkably difficult task. The area surrounding the vast tree seemed to be home to a colony of the creatures – kikwis, one named Erla had told him – and not only that, but he’d run into more scattered bokoblins, which seemed to have been engaged in a disorganised search of their own. Despite several false leads as the kikwis he’d found had proven not to be the one he was looking for, Link couldn’t really resent the little creatures. Defenceless and frightened, their main strategy when confronted with a threat seemed to be to hide from it and trust in their camouflage to see them safe. Even so, as time wore inexorably on, Link began to feel increasingly frustrated at the length of his search. Though he’d felt earlier that he could only be right behind Zelda, it now seemed more and more likely that she was getting further away from him all the time.
Link subconsciously braced himself for another disappointment as Machi scampered agilely up the tree Link had pointed out, poking his little head into a hollow where perhaps some long-ago branch had snapped off.
“Elder Bucha! Is that you?!”
A slightly deeper squeaky voice drifted down to Link from the hollow. “Great seasons, kwee-koo, it’s Machi! Are you all right? I was worried about you. There were so many bokoblins out there this morning, kweee… everybody scattered, and I don’t know if it’s even safe to meet up again yet.”
“It’s safe now, Elder!” Machi’s squeaky little voice sounded decidedly proud of himself. “I found another one of those funny creatures like Zelda from yesterday, and this one was looking for it. So he came with me, kweek, and he’s been fighting all the bokoblins, and he found a bunch of the others and kept them safe, and he even helped me find you!”
Machi suddenly and effortlessly reversed out of the hole and partway down the trunk, not even bothering to turn around, as a second, slightly fatter head popped out of the hole, practically nose to nose with him, and stared down at Link.
“Koo-weep!” Bucha declared. “Is this the one? And he helped find me? He must be a master woodsman.” He emerged from his hole, clambering down more carefully than Machi: he was distinctly fatter than the other kikwi, and didn’t seem to move quite as quickly and fluidly. All the same, his descent was still nearly effortless, and he stood up on his hind legs at the bottom of the tree. “You’ve been helping us kikwis, stranger? You have my thanks. Kweee… What is your name? I am Bucha.”
“I’m Link. It’s nice to meet you,” Link told him politely. “I-”
“Link, is it? And you’re a human, aren’t you? Kweee, and Machi said you were looking for the other human we had here last night, the girl one with the blonde hair, Zelda?”
Link nodded emphatically. At least Bucha had only interrupted him to indirectly answer the question he’d been about to ask. “Yes, Elder Bucha. Do you know if she’s safe? Where she went?”
“I don’t know if she’s safe, kweee… She left before the bokoblins came through, so she’s safe from them. She was a clever little thing, kwee-koo. I sheltered her for the night in a hollow, and she asked me about the forest, kweee… I told her all about it, even the crumbly old temples, even the one where those funny humans with the eye like to hide, and she ran right off to one of them before the sun was even up. Oho, I told her not to go, I did. The temple with the eye-humans has a nasty feel around it, and the other one is very dangerous, kweek. There are all sorts of nasty predators there. But she said something was calling her, koo-kwee, and she had to find a temple, so to a temple I suppose she went.” Bucha pointed with one plump little forelimb. “That way, I think, kweee. That’s the way to the temple she wanted to go to.”
Dismay and worry twisted uncomfortably in Link’s chest. “Can you tell me about the temple, please, Elder Bucha? I’ve got to catch up with her. She’s my best friend, and I…”
Bucha blinked black-ringed eyes at him. “A best friend, you say? Well now, kweee…” He glanced at Machi, then back to Link. “All right, then, but you have to be careful too. I don’t want to be responsible for you humans getting into more danger than you can handle, kwee-koo. But Machi says you’ve been very helpful to my people, indeed… in fact, let me see. Yes, this might help you. Let me just fetch something a moment.” He turned around without another word, and scurried back up the tree and into the hollow, where Link heard a faint rustling sound and some muffled, grumpy-sounding squeaking before he emerged again with what looked like a thick stick protruding from the bud on his back. Link watched uncertainly as the kikwi elder climbed back down, then walked up to him with the same rolling gait Machi had when on his hindlegs, and finally reached behind himself to pull the stick from his bud, which unfurled just enough to let it slip free.
“This is my best catapult, kweee,” Bucha said, holding it before him in his human-like hands. “I use it to scare off nasty birds, but maybe it will do you more good. You can give those horrible spiders a good whack, kwee-hee-hee!”
Link took it from him. It wasn’t simply a forked stick at all, but a slightly overlarge slingshot, and the kikwi even seemed to have painted and carved it, so well-decorated that it wouldn’t have looked at all out of place on Skyloft. Surprised, he looked back at him.
“Thank you very much!”
“Oho, you are welcome! Now, sit down, and I’ll tell you about the temple, koo-weep!”
* * *
It had to have taken nearly half an hour to listen to everything the kikwi elder had to say, but Link felt it was largely worth it. He knew a lot more about the path ahead and the dangers he’d be likely to face, and the helpful kikwi had even sketched a suggested route on the map the old lady at the first temple had given him. Zelda would be well ahead of him, but with this information, he hoped he’d be able to catch up far quicker than if he’d just been following Fi’s faint sense of her trail. Still, as he set off into the thick forest, navigating largely by the sight of the gigantic tree behind him and the direction the kikwi elder had pointed, he had to wonder why she was doing it. She couldn’t know he was following her, but why was she so set on going to this temple? What did she think was calling her? What had Fi meant when she’d talked about her destiny?
He’d been walking for a short while when Fi abruptly and unexpectedly emerged beside him, drifting along at the same pace he was walking at.
“Fi?”
“Master Link, the lack of available information I have demonstrated is concerning. It seems that significant changes have occurred on the surface since my knowledge was given to me. Neither kikwis nor gorons previously existed within my database. I cannot predict what other relevant information may be unavailable to you.”
Link smiled a little, relieved: he’d more than half-expected her to issue a warning.
“It’s all right. Honestly, the fact that you know anything at all about the surface is amazing. I don’t expect you to know everything.”
“I do,” Fi answered. Her musical voice still sounded emotionless, and yet… was there a faint hint of something else in it? Frustration, perhaps, or chagrin, or disappointment? Or was Link just projecting the feelings her words might have implied onto his sense of her, the being within the sword? “It is a part of my purpose. If I cannot adequately prepare you, my master, for the challenges you will face, then I have failed in my purpose.”
Real or imagined, he couldn’t just leave it there. “Well, I think you’ve helped me a lot. I’ve lost track of how many things you’ve told me about already. There have only been two things you didn’t know, and you must be able to tell me about hundreds. That’s less than a percent, right?” Mathematics admittedly wasn’t his strongest suit, but something that simple was still instinctive.
“A failure rate of a fraction of a percent may still prove dangerous at a critical moment, Master. However, statistically you are correct. I recommend that you exercise additional caution in any situation where I lack data.”
“I will,” Link said, meaning it. Fi’s eternally calm explanations had given some amount of order to the chaotic strangeness of the surface, so similar and yet utterly unlike anything he knew. She was guiding him even now, though so much had already happened that if he stopped and tried to think about it all he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to.
He pushed the thought back, focusing on the task at hand: on Zelda, ahead of him, somewhere. Fi regarded him for another three paces before blurring back into light and back into the sword, and he glanced at it briefly before looking forwards again, picking his way through the undergrowth, past all the strange creatures, plants, birds.
Somewhere beyond it all, his best friend was wandering...
Notes:
Patch Notes:
- Low-quality forcing replaced with legitimate delay; useful information added as reward.
Chapter 10: Ghirahim
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link pushed aside a heavy, whippy branch, ducking past it quickly before letting it swish back into place behind him with a shuddering rustle. He’d started to come across tilted, often largely buried flagstones here and there a short way back, something Fi had noted indicated they were most probably near to their destination. At last, the sight ahead gave him a much-needed boost of energy: an overgrown stone building still raising most of an ornate roof towards the sky, mostly-intact steps leading up towards it, another squarish bird statue at their foot.
Link paused briefly to stare at it, comparing it to the kikwi elder’s description of the “dangerous temple”. It seemed to match, and even as he decided that it did, Fi appeared in front of him.
“Master Link, I detect Zelda’s aura emanating from within this structure. However, I also detect the presence of a significant number of lifeforms either warped or created by demonic forces. There is a strong aura of evil within the temple, which must have accumulated or been introduced since the raising of Skyloft.”
Link swallowed. More fighting, more monstrosities? But… Zelda was in there, and the determination to find her before something else could overrode all else. He’d go in, whatever it took. He’d just have to be as careful as he knew how.
“It is wise that you do not display overconfidence, Master.” Had she noticed? He supposed he hadn’t really tried to hide his reaction from her. “Within the walls of the temple complex, it is highly unlikely that any individual other than perhaps Zelda will come to your aid. You must consider your state of readiness carefully. Please assess the probability that you will require additional equipment beyond that which you carry, that you are able to obtain.”
Link nodded, taking several moments to think about it. Thankfully, he hadn’t yet needed the medicines that Headmaster Gaepora had given him. His shield was gouged and splintered, but not severely: it was in no urgent need of repair. The Goddess Sword seemed impervious to damage, even though he’d caught several of the bokoblins’ crude and chipped blades with its razor-sharp edge. He was somewhat weary from making his way through the seemingly endless forest, alert to every strange sound and every sight and sound something new and strange, but that couldn’t be helped. He even had Bucha’s decorated slingshot. Other than running a little low on water, he was probably about as prepared as he could reasonably expect to be.
“I think I’m ready. I don’t know what else I would need.”
Fi nodded, once, her blank eyes somehow holding his gaze. “Based on my prior observation of the equipment available to you in Skyloft, I agree with your assessment, Master.”
Her approval, if the emotionless words could be called that, felt somehow reassuring.
Fi turned, gesturing elegantly to the bird statue. “My analysis indicates that this statue will respond to you as the previous one did. The statue that you encountered previously would have been of limited use to you, however, due to its location beneath thick tree cover. Only a statue in or near to a large open space can serve its intended purpose.”
“What purpose?” Link asked, a little hesitantly. “What are the statues for?”
“They were originally simple idols erected in honour of the goddess, identical to those that still serve the same purpose upon Skyloft,” Fi explained. “Prior to the raising of Skyloft, the goddess empowered them further, to aid those she had chosen. One who is bonded to a loftwing may use the statue to amplify a summons to his bird. Only when summoned in this way will a loftwing be able to briefly penetrate the cloud barrier.”
Link gasped as the import sank in. “So – we can go back to Skyloft?” He’d been putting off thinking about it, but he’d known, even before he’d landed, that there might be no way back. It had already been too late, the decision made – and even if there was no way back, even if he had known that for certain before ever taking wing to search for Zelda, he would still have made the same decision. He couldn’t have left her lost and alone, maybe hurt, maybe dead, no matter what it cost him.
“That is correct, Master. Were you not fully prepared at this present time, I would recommend that you do so now. However, the amount of time that the journey would cost you would be significant.”
Link nodded. “And we don’t have time. Zelda’s in there.” And when I find her… we can go home. Everything else that had happened hung over him, and he knew he couldn’t ignore it. But, if he could only find Zelda, they could return to the safety of Skyloft; to the knowledge of the headmaster and the other teachers; and work out together what it all meant and what they should do.
Fi nodded, and returned to his sword as he walked up the crumbling steps towards the heavy doors at the top. Weatherworn and pitted, he could just about make out what seemed to be an emblem of a rising bird engraved upon them, with deeper hollows here and there perhaps once sockets for decorations long missing. Fresh scuffs on the mossy flagstones suggested the doors had been opened recently, and Link’s hope flickered brighter. Whatever reason had sent Zelda into the half-ruined temple, she was there, and he’d almost found her.
Taking a deep breath, Link gripped the leftmost door, dragging it open on squealing hinges until there was enough of a gap to slip through. It began, very slowly, to shut behind him, grating across the stone. At least, he supposed, that probably meant that the bokoblins in the forest weren’t likely to follow either him or Zelda inside...
* * *
The temple – or temple complex, as Fi had said – was bigger than he’d fully realised from the outside, musty and gloomy, invaded throughout by branches, roots, and tumbled soil, faintly glowing mushrooms sprouting here and there and providing a faint kind of half-light in the lower levels: not enough to really see by, but enough to discern the edges of things in soft and muted grey. Link was quickly very glad he’d been given a lantern among his general equipment, particularly after the building proved to be partially flooded as well as half-buried. Without the light, and without Fi’s calm warnings, he’d likely have opened at least one barred door best left closed, and unleashed a torrent of water on himself.
His light had its disadvantages as well, however. It seemed as if just about everything aggressive in the temple complex was drawn to it: keese just like the ones that occasionally went evid and attacked people on Skyloft; giant and armoured spiders as the kikwis had warned him; bokoblins with sickly green skin and large dark eyes that Fi said had likely developed from their spending generations upon generations living in the darkness underground. Even a few of the horrifying predatory plants had taken root inside, yellow from lack of sunlight but still surviving on a diet of the building’s other denizens, and attacked him as he passed.
In a large circular hall, welcome daylight streaming down from what seemed to be an intended opening high above, Link ventured through the half-open door of the almost bulb-shaped chamber in its centre. It was a single room, large enough to be a classroom, damaged by time and doubtless by the temple’s inhabitants, with what seemed to be heavy chests and display stands or tables around its edges. A heap of bones lay towards the back, limbs uncomfortably long, the round skull uncomfortably sized. Was it… human?
Link ventured closer, and as he did, the door creaked shut behind him with ominous finality. He glanced back over his shoulder, shocked – then forwards again as a dry rattle caught and held his attention, eyes fixed on the impossible horror before him. The dry old bones were moving, almost seeming to pull themselves together into a form, joints clicking into position, jawbone sliding into place lopsided for a few moments before righting itself, and an uncanny light glowed within the formerly empty eye sockets. Link stared, frozen, as the skeletal figure drew itself up, then turned from him with a horrible deliberateness to pick up a pair of mismatched swords that had lain nearby, both two-handed blades that it hefted as if they weighed nothing.
Master. Once again Fi’s impossibly calm melodic voice sounded in his mind, far faster than the words could have been spoken. This is a stalfos, the animated skeleton of an individual long deceased. The majority of stalfos, like this one, are animated by magical forces and carry no remnant of the deceased’s spirit or experiences in life. The skeleton of a pacifist will display equal combat ability to the skeleton of an experienced warrior when animated in this fashion. Seek to exploit momentary weaknesses in its guard without lowering your own. In order to prevent reanimation, the bones must be damaged beyond usability.
The sudden rush of information jolted Link back to his senses as the stalfos approached. It was a little taller than him, perhaps, in a fighter’s stance not too dissimilar to some he’d learnt at the Academy. He drew his sword, faintly glowing despite the light that filtered down from above, and dropped into one of his own, backing away a few paces and circling to avoid putting his back to the wall, watching what it did over the rim of his shield. It moved as swiftly as the living as it came towards him, though not as fluidly, unnatural motions slightly too jerky. Just outside striking range, it raised its guard, twin blades held at angles no living arm could have managed in order to shield itself from attack.
It struck first, the heavy sword striking with impossible strength, splintering deep into the rim of his shield when he blocked and almost knocking him off his feet as it yanked its sword back. Even when the instructors weren’t watching, not even Groose hit that hard! For a moment, as it it did, its other sword was out of position, and somehow Link forced himself to attack, a quick lunge that splintered brittle ribs and leaping quickly back, some part of him still barely able to believe this was happening.
It wasn’t enough; the skeletal figure seemed completely unaffected by the damage as it closed on him again. Uncomfortably aware of the damage his shield had suffered from just one blow, Link tried to back away, but it pressed forward more quickly, drawing its other sword jerkily back – was there a chance there, just for a moment? – and slashing at him once again, fast and frighteningly accurate, forcing him to take the blow on his increasingly splintering shield. Instead of pulling back, it struck again with its other sword, a move no real fighter would have wanted to make, and Link yelled in pain as the blow battered the shining Goddess Sword aside to hit his shoulder. His block had taken the worst of the force from it, and even so – but he forced himself to react, a moment late as it was pulling back, to strike with all the strength he could still muster despite the pain, his blade chipping its upper arm and leaving cracks through the ancient bone as he and it leapt away from each other.
The stalfos’ glowing eye sockets regarded him impassively. It lifted its swords back into another unnatural guard position with a faint, dry cracking sound, and the arm he had hit abruptly gave way, falling immobile to the floor, fingerbones scattering everywhere. Other than adjusting its block, the stalfos didn’t even seem to notice the loss of its right arm.
This time, Link closed on it, trying to gain the initiative before it could. The stalfos blocked, once, twice, then drew back its remaining sword to strike, and as it did, Link seized his chance, shining blade slicing diagonally through the ribs of its unguarded right side and into the spine with an awful brittle cracking sound! It wavered for an instant, frozen, then began its swing even as it began to collapse, falling as it moved so that his cracked shield, placed to block, was too high – the sword slammed into the side of his leg before he could pull back, badly-angled but still powerful enough to knock his leg from under him! Link collapsed with a cry; half-rolled, half-scrabbled panickedly away, pulling himself further from the tumbled bones, not daring to take his eyes from them. The light in the eye sockets faded briefly, then, to his horror, began to brighten again-
Master. Strike!
Somehow, Link obeyed her: twisted and used his good leg to force himself into a leap as the skeleton began to pick its fractured self back up; to bring his flawlessly sharp sword down point-first into and through its skull before it could lift its remaining arm, shattering it even as he collapsed sideways, injured leg refusing to bear his weight even in a kneel.
His face was almost in the pile of bones, and abruptly, reflexively, he rolled away, still keeping hold of his sword. The light in the broken skull was gone, and there was no more motion but his own, no sound other than his rapid, increasingly shaky breathing.
“I-is it – is it – dead?” he managed.
The magic that animated the stalfos has dissipated now that its structural cohesion has been lost, Fi confirmed.
“Can you – can you…?” He couldn’t finish the request, but perhaps she understood it anyway, as she appeared before him, vaulting with her usual easy agility from the sword to ‘land’ just above the ground in front of him. After a moment, she bent her legs, approximating a graceful kneel as she lowered her face somewhat nearer to his level.
“I am able to project myself at any time, Master Link, although it is inadvisable in combat. Does this appearance calm you?”
He nodded, wordlessly. The spirit who lived in the sword she’d told him to claim was a strange, incomprehensible thing, but in this dark place, with all its terrors, she was an ally.
“That is satisfactory.” She looked him up and down, her blank gaze seeming to linger on his shoulder, on his leg. Silence reigned for a few somehow calming moments before she broke it again.
“Your condition is not satisfactory, Master. The injuries you have sustained are not fatal, but they will decrease your capability. I calculate a reduction of up to 40% in your combat performance even following rest. I recommend that you immediately utilise the medications provided to you.”
“Y…Yeah.” Gritting his teeth, Link pushed himself up, leaving sword and shield temporarily on the floor and keeping his weight on his right arm until he was sitting stably. Fi watched, impassive, as he fumbled briefly with his belt pouches, still using his off hand: his left shoulder seemed to ache more with every breath he took. Finally he had the medicine: a red elixir in a glass bottle doubtless reused countless times, plain familiar colour almost reassuring. Everyone at the Knight Academy had had their share of mishaps, and the healing magic of the concoctions was a welcome fallback they had always been able to rely on. Link struggled briefly to extract the cork, and drank the faintly bitter medicine in a few swift gulps. He was never entirely sure whether he liked or disliked the flavour, but he’d never argue with the effects. After just a couple of breaths, a wave of cool well-being seemed to spread through him, soothing the pain as it healed the injuries that had caused it. He sighed in quiet relief, a little more tension leaving him.
Fi ‘stood’ as he looked back to her, still just slightly above the ground. She turned slowly on the spot, a little eerily since she made no move to cause the rotation, looking around the room. Picking up sword and shield again, Link scrambled back to his feet, faintly relieved when the motion caused no lingering twinges of pain, and joined her in looking around, glancing periodically back at the crumbled bones and rusted swords that were all that remained of the Stalfos.
“Master, I detect a faint power source within the ancient chest situated against the wall at fifty-eight degrees clockwise to your current orientation.”
Link looked, guessing he had to have got the angle about right when Fi didn’t correct him. The chest there looked as ancient and crumbly as the others, but it didn’t appear to have rotted to the point of collapse as some of them had.
“Analysis suggests that multiple ancient devices may have been stored here,” Fi continued, “but that most have deteriorated or been broken to the point of disuse. The remaining power source may be worth investigation.”
“Right.” Link approached, cautiously, stopping before the low chest and once again glancing back at the Stalfos’ remains. “You don’t think anything will happen if I open this, do you?”
Fi tilted her head sideways, perhaps considering briefly. “I do not detect any magical or mechanical sensors observing the chest, Master. It is my assessment that it is safe to attempt to open it. Analysis shows that the material of its construction has decayed significantly. The lock will not hinder you in investigating the contents.”
“Here goes, then…” Link sheathed his sword, slipped his battered shield back onto his back, and reached out to the chest, at first just touching the sides of the lid as if to lift it. The wood felt light under his hands, almost spongy, and flaked away when he dug an experimental fingertip into it. Trying one last thing before resigning himself to the damage, he tried to lift the lid by its metal frame, but failed, the rusted lock still, apparently, locked, and probably rusted that way permanently. Giving up, he cautiously scraped at the front of the lid with his fingertips, pulling away flakes and dust; finally putting his hand through once there was a hole large enough to admit it and pulling.
Almost the entire front of the lid collapsed outwards in a sad shower of dust and rotten wood fragments, some falling on the stone floor, some within the remains of the chest. Link peered in, as did Fi, floating beside him. Dulled metal gleamed faintly back in the weak sunlight that filtered down from above, and he hesitantly reached in to lift out his prize.
Seeing it in the light made it at once more and less comprehensible. Almost the full length of his forearm and nearly as wide, it appeared to be a statue of a beetle perched atop a sort of tubular clasp, oversized mandibles both hinged as if to grip and sharpened to a cutting edge. It had shone like metal, but holding it in his hands, Link could tell it was far too light to be any such thing, made of no materials he recognised, detailed and intricate.
“Analysis of this object indicates that it is capable of flight,” Fi told him emotionlessly. Link looked up at her, confused.
“You mean… really fly? It’s not just a statue of a beetle?” If it had been anyone else, he’d have thought it was an obvious joke, but Fi was always so perfectly serious.
“That is correct. It is currently mounted atop a control unit, which will attach to your arm. When the ‘beetle’, as you call it, is in flight, it may be assumed that the screen of the control unit will display its progress.” She looked at Link, perhaps considering. “If you wish to test the device, Master, attach the control unit to your arm with the ‘beetle’ facing towards your hand.”
Perhaps the best way to understand what Fi was talking about was to try it. Link turned, putting his back to the ruined chest and the wall behind it, and carefully investigated the clasp, sliding it open just enough to fit his right forearm through and tightening it until it fit snugly. Fi offered no comment until he was done, the strangely light beetle statue sitting atop his arm like some very odd jewellery.
“You have successfully attached the control unit. Note that there are two buttons at the rear, which you are able to press. The leftmost one will ready the ‘beetle’ for takeoff. Once it is ready, the rightmost will launch or recall it.”
Left, then right, Link thought. He could see the two buttons easily enough, and pressed the left one, flinching when something inside the beetle clicked and then buzzed, settling from a distant beehive to an almost inaudible hum. A tiny light blinked into being on its rear end, flickering on and off like a sickly firefly.
“The power supply is almost depleted, which is to be expected considering the conditions in which it was stored,” Fi noted. “Exposure to sunlight or a directed magical field will serve to recharge it. However, enough power remains for a demonstration flight.”
It made just enough sense that he believed her, even the parts where he wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. There were a few ancient devices on and around the islands, scavenged and cannibalised and patched together to repair one another repeatedly until none of them looked quite like whatever they had originally been. The rickety Airshop was probably the most famous melange of such parts, kept aloft partly by who-knew-what and partly by sheer doggedness and pedal power on the part of its owner. They said I couldn’t augment a failing power supply, but kid, if you try hard enough, you can do anything. Link wasn’t actually sure that effectively running more miles than most birds flew all day every single day was worth it when Beedle could have just moved a bit more slowly and transported his wares on the back of his loftwing like everyone else, but it clearly was to Beedle, and he couldn’t argue with that.
“Is it ready?” he asked.
“The flashing light indicates that is the case, as well as denoting the low-power state,” Fi said. She at least didn’t sound as though she expected that to be obvious.
Link held his breath and pressed the right-hand button. With a click and a little jolt, the beetle statue abruptly opened its shining wingcases to extend what appeared to be wings in a blur of motion, just like a real beetle, and in the same instant lifted off his arm! Link stared as it began to fly forwards across the room, keeping to a straight line.
“Observe the screen on the control unit,” Fi prompted, and Link looked down at his arm. Where the beetle had rested, a flat surface showed – he looked up, then down again in surprise – showed the room, but from the beetle’s eye view! He could see the wall across the room getting ever closer in the tiny window on the back of his arm.
“That’s amazing…”
“Regrettably, even if the instruction manual was correctly stored with the item, it would doubtless have decayed centuries previously. However, observations indicate that the screen is sensitive to touch. Use this to direct the ‘beetle’’s flight. Simply move your finger across the screen in the direction that you require the ‘beetle’ to turn.”
Uh… The wall was getting closer quite quickly, and although he still wasn’t entirely sure what Fi was instructing him to do, Link hesitantly touched the image – cool and flat as glass – and moved his finger to the left. Obediently, the beetle turned, the image tilting as its flight angle changed, and he gasped softly in amazement. It turned away from the wall, kept turning until he lifted his finger away, leaving it headed back in his general direction. He could see himself, even see Fi, impassively observing.
“Whoa…”
A few moments later, a kind of metallic squeak sounded from the device on his arm, making him jump again, and words in the archaic but recognisable spelling all old devices seemed to use appeared across the screen. [LOW POWER DETECTED. RETURNING TO CONTROL UNIT. RECHARGE REQUIRED.] The beetle changed course, heading towards a point just above his head, and touching the image no longer seemed to have any effect.
“Master, hold your arm level and stationary. This will permit the ‘beetle’ to land.”
Link held his right arm out obediently, trying not to move as he looked up. Light or not, the beetle, wings buzzing, suddenly looked very big, hovering directly above his head. It moved slightly, then began to descend, until it had landed on his arm with barely a jar. There was a click, and the buzzing ceased, the light on its rear winking out. He touched it experimentally with his left hand, but it was securely held in place, once more attached to its clasp – its control unit.
“This… this is amazing.”
Fi said nothing.
“...Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, Master.”
“You say ‘beetle’ strangely, like that’s not the right word. What… what do you want to call it, I guess?”
“It is a remote aerial unit with semi-autonomous return functionality for precision operation and item retrieval at a distance.” Fi paused. “There is no rapidly comprehensible way to summarise its identity and purpose. I shall therefore adopt the designation of ‘beetle’ that you have given it.”
Link nodded, smiling a little. “All right.” He hesitated for a moment. “And it’s all right if we keep it?”
Fi nodded. “From the advanced state of decay of the box it was kept in, I conclude that its most recent owner died centuries ago. There can be no surviving claim to the item, and the probability of it being of use to you in the future approaches 100%.”
“Okay.” That made sense, Link supposed. There hadn’t been anything in this building smarter than the bokoblins. Fi was right, it was completely abandoned. “Do you think it’s safe to put in my belt pouch?” He unfastened the clasp and slipped his arm out of it as he spoke, looking at it. Huge and unwieldy, there was no way it would be possible to use his shield and wear the beetle mounted on its control unit at the same time.
Again, Fi nodded. “Magical item storage will cause no damage to any of its functionality. Keeping it in this space is recommended.”
Link looked down to his belt, fiddling with the clasps for a moment and bringing the mechanical beetle close to the opening of the pouch he’d picked. It seemed to shrink, or almost recede, as if moving rapidly further and further away without really going anywhere at all. All at once, it fit inside, and Link let go and closed the flap. It hadn’t felt as though it had changed size under his fingers, either. Nothing ever did.
* * *
Link’s exploration had eventually led him to a door half-concealed behind what had probably once been an ornate screen, yet large and decorated, as if it were something at once both important and private. Here and there, he’d seen signs of other fights: a bokoblin already dead when he arrived; the curled corpses of a pair of the gigantic armoured spiders Fi had called skulltulas, stating that they were probably named for the skull-like patterns of their carapace. Zelda had been here before him, she had to have been, and the thought had given him renewed strength. He pushed the door open and stepped through into a round antechamber beyond.
A flash of darkness followed by golden light filled his vision before he could even take in what else lay within the room, and Link snapped his arm up to shield his eyes, blinking away tears and afterimages as rapidly as he could to try and peer over his hand at wherever that light had come from.
Standing before a golden archway ahead, filled with an ornate golden panel, was a human-like figure, holding a deadly-looking subtly curved sword out behind himself at arms’ length. Behind the high collar of his red cape, a fall of perfectly straight white hair swept away from an exposed ear with a large blue crystal earring. His skin was grey, and beneath the cape he seemed to be wearing some kind of skintight white outfit with diamond-shaped holes cut out of it that displayed more grey, well-muscled flesh. The figure bent slightly, tensing his arm and twisting as if about to take a swing at the golden panel before him with his sword, which was radiating an aura of blackness that twisted Link’s stomach to look at – but then the figure froze.
Link stared as the dark metal of the stranger’s sword became darker still, became blackness that dissolved into diamond shards into nothing; as he took a single step back, lowering his arms to his sides, and spoke.
“Look who it is…” His voice was smooth and cold and somehow cruelly anticipatory. He turned, revealing his face: grey as the rest of him, white hair falling across the left side, swept back on the right. The only colour to him was a rich streak of purple beneath his visible eye: even his lips were an unnatural, perfect white.
“And you’ve found a new pet.” He gave a small sound of amusement, somehow chilling, almost archaic accent making him sound even more mockingly formal. “Isn’t that the boy who almost flew right into my tornado? I would have thought it would have tossed and torn you apart… yet here you are. Not in pieces.”
‘My’ tornado? Link stared at him, and the stranger sighed languidly, looking back to the golden panel.
“Not that your life or death has any consequence. It’s just the girl that matters now, and I can sense her here, just beyond this door.”
“The girl? Zelda?!” Link found his voice in an urgent, angry demand.
“Yes, I plucked Her ‘Grace’ from her perch in the clouds, and now she’s mine.” His voice didn’t change tone even slightly, and he laughed, lazily. “Oh, but listen to me. I’m being positively uncivil. Allow me to introduce myself.” He paused for effect, tossing his head though he didn’t turn around. “I am the Demon Lord who presides over this land you look down upon, this world your people fled in terror. You may call me Ghirahim.”
“In truth,” Ghirahim continued, dragging out the words slightly, “I very much prefer to be indulged with my full title: Lord Ghirahim. But I’m not fussy.”
Lord Ghirahim. A demon lord. And he… he’s after Zelda! Link swallowed, forcing himself to reach back for sword and shield. This demon, a real demon, was hunting his friend – and there was just one door between him and her. One door, and Link himself. Fi! He could feel the power in the Goddess Sword as his hand closed about its hilt, Fi’s silent presence still without a ‘spoken’ response.
“Did you really just draw your sword?” Ghirahim asked rhetorically. “Foolish boy.” At last, he turned back to face Link, spreading his empty hands wide and smiling with an imperious arrogance mingled with cruel anticipation. “Don’t think you can stop me. By all rights, the girl should have fallen into our hands already.” Link stared, unnerved, as the demon lord bowed his head, twisting his hands in overwrought distress. “She was nearly mine when something… no doubt those loathsome servants of the goddess… snatched her away. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?” He almost seemed to claw at the air, his motions like a parody of themselves, and the light in the room seemed to dim with his fury, gesturing wildly as if slamming his fists onto and through an imaginary table. “Furious! Outraged! Sick with anger!”
As he shouted the last words, he vanished in a flicker of fading diamonds. His voice, maliciously calm again, seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere as Link turned, looking wildly from side to side for a foe who wasn’t there in the suddenly shadowy antechamber.
“But I forgot. You don’t have any of those feelings, do you? You just wouldn’t understand. Well, I’ll explain it to you, just this once. You see, this turn of events has left me with a strong appetite for bloodshed.” The soft, cruel laugh was only just audible, and yet it seemed to fill Link’s mind. Fear was rising in him like an overwhelming storm, a certainty of something he couldn’t confront.
In the next instant, he heard a soft footstep from behind him in the same moment that the demon lord’s face peered suddenly, terrifyingly, over his left shoulder, his sickening presence close against his back. Link froze, paralysed, as Ghirahim murmured almost into his ear.
“Still, it hardly seems fair, being of my position, to take all of my anger out on such a new pet. Which is why I promise up front not to murder him…”
Some impulse finally broke through the almost desolate fear engulfing him, and Link gasped and jerked away, staggering several paces and turning as the demon lord laughingly continued.
“No, I’ll just beat him within an inch of his life!”
He laughed and laughed as Link braced himself to fight, the fabric of his jagged cape dissolving into nothingness, the sword he’d held before rematerialising in his right hand, the motion of his hair as he threw his head back momentarily revealing a black diamond beneath his left eye like an uncanny teardrop.
“Fi? Fi!” Link hissed under his breath, trying to direct a thought to her as he would to his loftwing. What do you know about him? Does he know you?
The response was sudden even for her, a cascade of toneless thought so flatly rapid that even her usual musicality was absent.
This is the demon Ghirahim. He is a master of sword combat. Speech analysis indicates he possesses absolute confidence in his own abilities. Analysis of his aura corroborates his words, indicating that he does not intend to use his true capabilities in this battle.
He’s toying with us, Link thought, gritting his teeth as the slightly taller demon advanced, slow and casual with sword held forward in a guard pose and his empty left hand raised as though he might block with it. The glove on it must have dissolved with his cape, though he’d kept the one on the other hand. I can’t stay still. Link backed away, and Ghirahim laughed.
“You can’t run away from me now, boy.”
I’m not going to, Link thought, but he said nothing, all his attention focused on his pursuer’s motions. Every step the demon took was deliberately casual, cool amusement in his faint smile. They were no more than three paces from one another when Link abruptly darted forward to attack, Ghirahim blocking with lightning speed and countering with a fluidity that would have been mesmerising if Link had been an audience and not a target. He blocked and blocked again under the sudden flurry of blows, shield and sword alike pressed into service, until suddenly he saw the hint of an opening and struck without conscious thought-
Ghirahim ducked low and leapt back, landing several paces away with eerily perfect poise. “Hm. Interesting. Perhaps you’re not completely dull after all.” He snapped his fingers, and a line of spinning knives appeared before him, shimmering faintly with a red-black and evil aura. A quick gesture flung them, all of them at once, and Link leapt sideways, shield raised, so that only the leftmost hit and that only to embed itself in his increasingly battered shield. Moments later, it dissolved in diamond shards, leaving only the crack it had made as evidence of its existence.
I can’t let- Even as he was still framing the concept, Ghirahim dashed towards him, light-footed and almost inhumanly fast, and Link just barely managed a desperate block with the Goddess Sword, the two blades ringing against one another with a force that almost threw him from his feet, Fi’s blue-white glow shining against Ghirahim’s sword’s black aura. He staggered back, and of course Ghirahim followed, pressing him relentlessly while he was off-balance-
A stinging pain scored across his right leg as the demon lord’s sword finally found its way around his shield, but instead of pressing the advantage further, Ghirahim leapt back again, cruel smile just beginning to reach his eyes.
“First blood to me, of course. Still, he’s better than I expected. Shall we see just how much he can take?”
He had to be talking to Fi, but she said nothing. Link tested his leg by stepping forwards onto it, forcing back the pain with desperate resolve and charging his opponent, clinging to the slim hope that he might catch him off-guard while he was speaking. Ghirahim blocked his blade again, and again – and then stabbed with the speed of a striking snake; Link barely saw it coming, could only half-dodge, just enough that the blow sliced through his tunic and scraped across his chainmail rather than piercing his shoulder as he knew it had been meant to, and he leapt back, panting, as Ghirahim withdrew his sword.
Abruptly, the demon vanished in a scatter of vanishing diamond shards. Link jumped sideways, turning, remembering all too clearly how he’d appeared behind him just moments before, proved right as in the next instant the shards reappeared and reformed into the grey-skinned figure just a single pace beyond where he had been standing. If he hadn’t moved, he would have been exactly behind him. Link struck again, hardly thinking, subconsciously hoping the teleport had cost Ghirahim some brief moment of disorientation – but the demon once again caught the blow on his blade, a quick twist flicking Link’s sword aside, but his left side was still open and Link slipped his blade around faster than he ever had, slicing down-
The Goddess Sword jarred to a stop, and Link’s blood turned briefly to ice, stunned by shock and a strange, visceral revulsion. Somehow, impossibly, Ghirahim had caught the sacred blade between the first and second fingers of his bare left hand, a dark aura just like his sword’s blazing against Fi’s blue-white. In another moment, he had yanked it from Link’s nerveless grip, flipping it in the air to catch the hilt in his hand.
“You wouldn’t know it, but this is quite the sword you have here.” There was a subtle tension in Ghirahim’s voice that hadn’t been there before, and for all his coolly casual tone, the intensity of the duelling auras around the Goddess Sword’s hilt spoke of a vicious battle. “But so long as you keep telegraphing your attacks like the novice you are, you’ll never so much as land a blow on me.” Ghirahim drew back his hand as the echoes of sensation coalesced into a moment of understanding: Link recognised the motion as a throw; recognised a bitter and silent struggle of utter opposition, and he couldn’t even have said whether it was Fi or himself who struck with a last bolt of reserved strength as Ghirahim threw the sword, spoiling his aim; couldn’t have said who it was who moved slightly to the side and raised his shield arm outwards so that the Goddess Sword sheared straight through the wood but missed his arm, embedded up to its hilt so briefly as he let the impact spin him, left hand drawing it back from the shield as he turned and running even as he completed the motion to strike Ghirahim, who looked up from studying his left hand just in time to see him coming and began to block – but in that one fluid moment Link knew what he had seen and changed his own angle of attack, dipping below his foe’s blade and finally, finally striking home!
The blow that would have severely injured a human opened a shallow cut in Ghirahim’s grey skin, and the demon lord staggered back, as much in shock as in pain. He straightened, levelling his sword to point at Link, a quick swipe of his hand brushing the slight disarray from his fall of white hair, momentary anger giving way to a tone of slight, superior surprise.
“Well… You put up more of a fight than I would have thought possible for such a soft boy. But don’t applaud yourself just yet. That sword you’re carrying is the only reason you still live.” He shifted his stance without relaxing, keeping his guard up. “Still, you’ve surprised me. That’s more than the goddess’ dogs manage. So I’ll permit you this leniency, just this once.” His visible eye never wavered from Link’s. “I fear that during the time I spent toying with you, the girl’s aura has all but faded from this place. There’s no reason for either of us to linger here.” He sighed melodramatically. “So this is good-bye, sky child. Run and play this time. Get in my way again, though… and if you’re lucky, you’ll be dead.”
Ghirahim straightened, sweeping his sword in a circle before him and vanishing in a final scatter of diamond shards as the blade finished its arc. The shadow faded from the room, leaving it once again illuminated by what looked like evening sunlight from the roof above, and the oppressive sense of the place finally lifted. Link looked around warily before slowly lowering his guard, weariness and pain seeping back into his mind from wherever they had been as he fought.
He was limping noticeably as he crossed to the golden door that Ghirahim had been trying to break open. Zelda had been on the other side… and he had at least bought her time to escape.
Notes:
Thanks to readers old and new for your continued support and approval!
Patch Notes:
- Keese now a species of bat particularly sensitive to corruption by evil or unnatural influences, resulting in the “evid” condition, bearing a rough magical similarity to the effects of rabies, although not usually transmissible to other beings. Contrary to the occasional urban myth, bats that always suicidally divebomb any living being approaching do not survive to continue the species, and would be extinct.
- Ghirahim's dialogue adjusted according to plot threads continued from the backstory.
- Level design adjusted closer to realistic building design and landscape constraints.
- Beetle given a specific in-character control mechanism.
Chapter 11: Skyview Spring
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link stood before the golden door, weight resting on his left leg. There was no visible way to open it, and when he placed his hand on it, he could feel its power beneath his fingers like an impermeable wall. The demon had seemed to be attacking it, but he hadn't made any visible difference. There was no scratch or dent in the ornate surface, and it was utterly unyielding beneath his fingertips.
"…Fi? Is there… any way to open this?"
Fi appeared beside him, as calm as if the battle just ended had never been fought.
"Yes, Master. It is a defensive barrier, keyed to the signature of Zelda and of your sword. Charge the sword with power, then touch it to the shield, and it shall permit you to pass."
"Okay."
Link took a slow breath. Each time he'd done that, something had happened. Yet, as he drew the sword and looked at it, he knew he had no other choice. He raised the sword high, watching as light shone from the sacred blade…
Just for a moment, he was-
-gazing upon a sacred light shining before him…-
-and it was gone. Link blinked, looking at the sword, still glowing with what might have been an echo of that same light. If Fi was right, all he had to do was touch it to the barrier…
As he lowered the sword and reached it forwards, the golden door began to glow, in a pattern that was different to the seeming carvings on it and yet only served to enhance them. Holding his breath, Link touched the tip of the sword to the impervious barrier – and it dissolved into light.
Beyond, a mossy stone path led up a set of steps into what seemed like open air, cool in the early evening. It felt calm, somehow peaceful, a breath of blessed relief after the battle. Link started slowly up the stairs, taking each one carefully, left foot first and moving his right to join it, looking around him as he did. The stairs themselves were still within a pillared hall, but one with no door at its far end, open to the elements beyond. Even after however long it had lain abandoned, the stonework was still near-perfect, fitting together with barely a seam.
The golden barrier rematerialised silently behind him.
Link made it to the top of the steps and stopped, gazing around. He'd emerged onto a paved area half covered in moss and even grass, and beyond it was a shallow pool in an almost perfectly circular rock-walled hollow, time-worn stepping stones just above the surface of the water forming a path towards a pale stone statue of the goddess on an ornate base. Water poured in down several small waterfalls, gently rippling the surface, and seemed to flow silently away beneath an overhang to his right. Something about the place felt… pure.
Fi had drifted silently up the stairs behind him, floating a pace or so from his shoulder.
"Master, I perceive that there is an ancient message engraved into the aura of this place. There is a 99% probability that I will be able to comprehend it if we approach closer to the spring within this basin, behind the statue."
Link glanced back at her and nodded. "All right."
He ventured forwards to the edge of the paved platform, looking at the stepping stones. They looked smooth and almost flat, and mostly weren't too far apart. He took a deep breath, and hopped gingerly down.
As he reached the last one, still an uncomfortably long jump from the statue's ornate base, Fi overtook him, floating just above the surface of the water, which almost seemed to glow faintly beneath her.
"Master, release the power contained within your sword towards the symbol of the goddess at the statue's base."
Link nodded again, focused, and swung the blade in a quick horizontal slash. Light shot from it, striking the carved symbol and briefly illuminating it with an ethereal glow. The faintly rippling light beneath Fi's feet intensified and spread, and to Link's surprise, she began to dance, leaving ripples of light across the surface of the water behind her.
"You who are chosen to carry out the goddess' great mission have reached this first of two sacred springs. Here at this sacred Skyview Spring, the spirit maiden must purify herself before travelling to the second, the Earth Spring, hidden away amidst the scorched rocks of Eldin. Remain always mindful of the heavy task entrusted unto you, and continue towards your fate."
As she spoke, her musical voice almost singing the words, she skated across the surface of the water, moving with a grace like nothing Link had ever seen. He stared, twisting to follow her as she spun about the pool, her path picked out in subtle light, until at the end she stopped once more between him and the statue, spinning on the toe of one foot, her wing-like arms outstretched. Finally, the message delivered, she slowed, lowering her other leg and her arms and coming to a graceful stop facing him.
Link found his voice several seconds later.
"I didn't… I didn't know you could dance like that." The words felt inane the moment he'd spoken them. Fi said nothing, tilting her head slightly to the right as she gazed back at him with blank eyes he could almost read. "It was beautiful."
Fi's head tilted very slightly further. "The motions were appropriate to the manner in which the message was conveyed. The sequence was in essence an element of its interpretation."
Link wondered if there was any way to describe it to her. She didn't seem to understand, her blank gaze attentive, calm, neither complimented nor insulted; not quite comprehending. A moment later, he shook his head: he should focus on the message itself.
"Do you think Zelda could have found this message?"
Fi nodded. "I calculate a 97% chance that the message could be interpreted by the spirit maiden without my assistance. I therefore surmise that she has set out for Eldin, as the message states she must. However, it is not clear what means of travel she may have employed: her aura is fading from this place, and there is no clear trail to suggest a physical direction of departure." She turned, looking at the statue, and at the great plinth it stood upon. "Master, there is something before that statue that bears lasting traces of her aura. It is likely that she has left it as a sign for you."
Link gasped, forgetting his weariness and pain as Fi drifted aside to let him see. A slab of broken stone lay before the statue, in front of the still-shining sigil, and beneath it – beneath one corner he could see a scrap of cloth sticking out! He jumped into the waist-high water without thinking, gasping at the renewed pain as it stung his wounded leg, and waded towards the plinth. It was at about head height; gritting his teeth, he forced himself to grab the edge and pull himself up onto it.
The slab of stone was decorated, and set with a red gem, but more important was the scrap of cloth beneath it. Carefully lifting the heavy stone, Link pulled it free: a white handkerchief. He looked closer – in one corner, Zelda had stitched her initial and the silhouette of a lavender loftwing, but something had bleached all the colour from the thread. It was still recognisably hers, and he held it almost gingerly, staring at it for a long, long moment, slowly rubbing his thumb over the embroidery and feeling its presence before at last he swallowed and tucked it away.
Zelda…
He refocused on his other hand, still atop the broken stone slab, then at the stone itself. Intricately carved, it reminded him of the tablet Fi had given him, a day and a night ago that felt like a lifetime.
"Fi, does-" His voice caught, and he tried again. "Does this look like the stone tablet you gave me to you?"
Fi floated closer, disregarding the position of either ground or water, to lean over beside him and inspect it.
"It does, Master. This would appear to be another piece of the map, similar to the one entrusted to me. My analysis suggests that if you return it to the altar in Skyloft, it will cause another opening in the clouds above the Eldin region, similar to the one that you used to descend here. I surmise that this was intended to open the way for both you and Zelda. However, without access to her loftwing, it is of no use to her, and she therefore left it for you."
"Do you think she knows I'm following her? I mean – really knows, not just… not just hopes?"
Fi's expression remained impassive. "I do not know, Master."
I hope so. I hope she knows I'm here. I hope she… she doesn't feel alone. He swallowed painfully, forcing back a sudden urge to cry at the mixture of defeat and hope, relief and fear; at the thought of what it would have to feel like to be trapped here completely and utterly alone, not even knowing, even if she believed it, that anyone was really coming for her. After a couple of slightly shaky deep breaths, he gritted his teeth and hefted the stone tablet into one of his belt pouches. He was rapidly running out of space to carry things, but it would have to do.
Finally, he turned over, sitting wearily at the foot of the statue with his boots in the water below. It didn't feel right, but he'd just waded through it, and he was exhausted again.
"I guess…" He looked up at the sky. The clouds above were a combination of shadow-dark and red-gold, a strange and splendid sight. The watery light of the sun had already faded, the spring shrouded in a deep shadow. "...There's no time to fly back to Skyloft… is there."
"It is already sufficiently dark that flight below the clouds would be dangerous for a loftwing," Fi agreed. "I advise that you make camp here, at the spring. It is protected from danger, and you will be able to treat your wounds and rest without fear of interference. You may then summon your loftwing from the statue outside in the morning."
Link sighed, and forced himself to push himself forwards, dropping off the edge and back into the water before sheer weariness and lethargy could pin him in place. Ignoring the stepping stones, he waded slowly back to the stone platform at the entrance, hauling himself out and half-collapsing back into a sitting position. He was beginning to feel utterly drained.
"Master Link," Fi prompted. "You should attend to your injuries before-" She cut off uncharacteristically, abruptly looking up.
"What is it?"
"I detect two life forms approaching this area. While they will not be able to enter the spring itself, analysis of their characteristics indicates that they are likely to render you aid should you request it."
Too tired to ask for further details, Link simply nodded, looking up at the edge of the sheer-walled basin. He couldn't see them, but if Fi said there was someone there, he believed her.
Notes:
Patch Notes:
- Zelda no longer simply ignores her best friend's pursuit.
- Skyview “Spring” now contains both a spring and a means for the water to leave through. (The basin is most probably an old sinkhole.)
Chapter 12: Safety
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“The individuals are now observing you, Master,” Fi stated calmly, a few minutes later.
Link looked around the edge of the basin, but still couldn’t see them. He raised his voice anyway, calling out more weakly than he’d quite intended. “Hello? Who’s there?”
The foliage on the lip of the hollow rustled, and suddenly there was someone standing there – two people, just as Fi had said. They seemed, at least on a first glance, to be human, as best he could tell under the concealing, forest-coloured clothes they wore, with white-blonde hair and some sort of markings on their faces, too far away to be made out clearly.
“We are servants of the goddess,” one of them called back, deep voice no louder than was needed to reach Link’s ears. “And you… you bear her sword. Are you the one named Link who landed at the Temple of the Great Seal?”
Link nodded. “I am.” After a moment, frowning slightly, he added “Who are you? Why are you here?”
“Mahra Impa sent word that the time of prophecy had come. We came to aid you, and the daughter of spirit.”
Who? …Zelda? “Have you seen her?”
The second, slightly shorter one shook his – her? – head. “We have not. But Mahra Impa sent the one who was attending her to aid the spirit maiden.” The voice was higher, but not so much so that Link could be certain either way. “She would have arrived here long before we did.”
“Is there any assistance we can offer you?” the first called down.
“Please!” Link forced himself to get to his feet, nearly falling, all his weight on his left leg. “Is – do you – is there anywhere safe I can – rest tonight?”
The two looked at one another, and Link guessed they were conferring, though he couldn’t hear them speak.
“We will bring you to our camp,” the shorter one called, “but you will need to leave the spring’s protection. We cannot reach you past the sacred barrier.”
Link glanced to Fi, who nodded almost imperceptibly.
“All right.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself. The stairs between him and the doorway suddenly seemed very long, and very steep. “Can you meet me in there? I don’t… don’t think I can walk much further on my own.”
The two watchers followed his pointing finger, then glanced up to the damaged roof above. “We can. We will rejoin you within.” Unexpectedly, they bowed to him before melting back into the undergrowth and out of sight.
Link turned to the stairs, gritting his teeth. Every step hurt, and his leg had stiffened up even in the short space of time he’d spent sitting. He was practically hopping as he made his way to the stairs, almost dragging his right foot, leaning gratefully on the stone wall for a few moments before struggling to descend. Fi kept pace ahead of him, moving backwards, expressionless as always but clearly watching him. She returned to the sword only after he’d finally reached the bottom, leaning on the wall for a few moments longer before drawing it, looking at it, raising it skyward…
-something he still had to do, through all the fading pain, and Fi-
Link nearly fell, only barely catching himself; stood for a moment longer before touching the gleaming blade to the door. It dissolved into light just as it had before, and he limped through.
The two strangers were standing on the other side, waiting for him. As he crossed the threshold, the slightly shorter one stepped forward, offering him an arm to lean on, which he accepted gratefully. Somewhat taller than him, she was strong, but whipcord-thin beneath her clothes, the subtle hollows of her face speaking to a harsher life than his on Skyloft had ever been.
“Thanks,” he managed, leaning against her.
“It is nothing. Our purpose is to aid you.” She almost seemed a little flustered. Close up, neither seemed entirely sure of themselves, almost as if… they were in awe. Of him? “The one who was with you… was that the spirit of the Goddess’ Sword?”
Link nodded.
“Then she is still with us now?” She glanced at the sword as she spoke, but Fi said nothing, and Link was the one to react.
“Yes. She’s… there.”
“That’s good.” She paused for a moment, then looked to her fellow. “Davar, can you handle the transportation?”
The taller of the two, Davar, nodded, addressing Link. “Please brace yourself. This may be disconcerting.” Link watched as he seemed to focus, adopting a clearly stylised pose before making a swift series of gestures Link had no hope of following. Magic seemed to momentarily twist the world around them, abrupt and dizzying, and – Link staggered, almost falling against the woman as the ground beneath his feet shifted – they were somewhere else, somewhere amidst tall trees.
“How-?”
Neither responded: Davar still seemed to be concentrating, and as Link watched, he did the same thing again, sweeping them away once more.
They reappeared in a partially open space, still between the trees, a cluster of tents partially suspended from branches at its edges, several low fires banked and smouldering smokelessly in the twilight gloom. A handful of people had frozen in the middle of their actions, all of them twisted to face the newcomers, and staring at them. With her free hand, the woman pointed urgently, and Davar turned, looking a little drained. He seemed to gesticulate rapidly at a tall woman advancing towards them, who halted, narrow-eyed, and gestured back.
“What’s happening?” Link asked softly.
“We’re explaining the situation.” Her voice was the quietest Link had ever heard someone speak without whispering. She glanced swiftly to the other woman, whose stance had relaxed subtly, indefinably, and who made a quick gesture accompanied by a jerk of her head. “I will take you to a tent. Davar will finish explaining and catch up.”
Link nodded, leaning heavily on her as she guided him around towards one of the patterned tents. They all looked a bit different in decoration, but he couldn’t otherwise distinguish one from the other: they were of similar size and there was no sign he could read that might have said who they belonged to or what their purpose was. His escort swept the flap aside with a casual hand, and stepped in.
It was slightly warmer than the forest outside, and a lantern hung burning in the centre, although there was nobody there. A couple of low folding cots took up space towards the back, while the front contained an array of neatly-organised cloth containers in wooden frames. Link hadn’t seen anything quite like them before. The woman helped him to the back and lowered him slowly onto the edge of one of the cots, where he sat with a sigh of relief, sinking back somewhat into the almost hammock-like suspended cloth.
Fi says I can trust them, he thought, slightly hazily. It wasn’t his inclination to be suspicious of strangers, but after everything that had happened, after the old woman and the evil pillar, the goron and the bokoblins and the kikwis and the demon lord Ghirahim – the land below the clouds was too huge for him, spinning dizzyingly when he tried to grasp it all. Ghirahim looked almost like a human, but he wasn’t. These people looked human too, but were they? Or were they something else, strange and different to the people of Skyloft? In a sudden, unlikely moment, he was among them. How had they done that? How had they brought him here?
Fi? Who are they? He didn’t mean to speak almost the same words aloud, but they escaped before he had quite realised it. “Who are you?”
The woman looked almost embarrassed. “My apologies, chosen one – I am Ireya, and my companion who brought us here is Davar. We are of the Sheikah people, now sworn servants to the Goddess Hylia, like yourself.” Her eyes slid briefly to the hilt of the sword visible over his shoulder, then back to his face. “For generations, we have lived and died in her service, waiting for this very moment.”
Link didn’t know what to say.
“You must let us see to your injuries. Please?”
That, he could answer, nodding wearily. “I’d be really grateful. Thank you.”
Ireya smiled, unwinding the wrap around her head and face that proved to be a single long strip of concealing fabric dyed in softly blurring forest hues. Her hair, so pale as to be almost white, was mostly scraped back into a tight queue beneath it, loose strands escaping slightly wavily down the sides of her face. On her forehead, a tattoo of an eye with a teardrop falling from it almost seemed to gaze at Link even as her own red eyes turned to his boots.
Davar ducked under the tent flap while she was still unlacing the right one, waving off Link’s somewhat embarrassed attempts to assist her. Like Ireya, he’d exposed his face fully, off-white hair drawn into a bun at the back of his head; like her, he bore a tattoo of a weeping eye. A third of the strange people – Sheikah – followed him, noticeably older with a receding hairline and lines deepening around the edges of his eyes and mouth, and an additional teardrop beneath his own eye as well as a forehead tattoo identical to the ones the other two bore.
The next several minutes were some that Link could have done without, as the two younger Sheikah half-stripped him and the elder cleaned the wound, deeper than he’d fully realised and it was all he could do not to scream at the redoubled pain. Finally, carefully holding the edges of the wound together, the surgeon nodded for him to drink the second and last bottle of medicine from Skyloft, and the pain finally ended, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its wake.
As the older Sheikah quietly wiped away the last of the blood and gathered up the water and cloths he’d used, Link looked down at his leg. There was nothing left to show for his injury but a thin, pale scar, healed cleanly.
“Thank you,” he said quietly as the older man – he’d heard his name, but had forgotten it in everything that had followed – began to leave. He stopped, looking back, his words only just loud enough to reach Link’s ears.
“You are welcome. It is our task to aid you. It is my honour.”
Before Link could say anything much in response, he’d turned away again, slipping silently out of the tent and leaving him with the other two.
“You should rest now,” Davar informed him, gently and as strangely-quietly as they had all spoken. “As Cadan said, sleep will finish restoring you.” Cadan – that was his name. He’d said several things, none of which Link fully remembered. Behind Davar, Ireya was rummaging in one of the containers, drawing out a stack of folded undyed cloth. “We will repair your clothes and return them to you in the morning.”
“You don’t have to-” Link began, only to be cut off by a raised hand.
“As servants of the goddess, we are sworn to aid you, the one who bears her sword.” Davar looked almost hopeful as behind him Ireya nodded.
“Well… all right. But, how can I repay you for your help – all of you?”
Very, very softly, Davar laughed. “Completing your appointed task will be repayment enough, this we can promise you.”
“But we will speak more in the morning, ” Ireya added, quietly but firmly, as she rejoined them to place her stack of fabric on the bed: thick, warm-looking blankets, and an almost shapeless nightgown with the weeping eye sigil embroidered onto it in rather faded thread. “The fourth thing one must know is to sleep whenever the opportunity comes, for it may not come again.” It had the sound of a well-worn saying, and Link was far too tired to argue.
Another couple of minutes later, he was lying down in the unexpectedly comfortable bed, with the lantern retrieved from its hook and placed on the ground beside him, and the Sheikah were gone. Those of his things they’d left behind were neatly placed beneath the bed, save for the sheathed Goddess Sword, which he’d quietly picked back up and set beside himself. Its presence was an odd kind of reassurance.
“Fi,” he whispered, “who are the Sheikah?”
The hilt glowed faintly, and Fi appeared from it to float beside the bed, luminous in the pitch-black tent like the figure from the dream that hadn’t been a dream on a Skyloft night.
“What do you wish to know about the Sheikah, Master Link?”
“I guess… where did they come from? How do they live here? How do they know about… about the destiny you told me about?”
Fi nodded once, pausing for a brief moment in the manner of a teacher beginning a lesson. “The people who now call themselves the Sheikah are a remnant priesthood of a fallen god. After the goddess gave them sanctuary, they rededicated themselves to her service and to her cause. When the majority of the population was lifted above the clouds, they volunteered to remain behind as guardians to await the appointed time and provide aid to yourself and Zelda. It is now apparent that they succeeded in this aim and are prepared to assist you where they are able. However, it is unclear how much information they will have retained over the centuries.” She paused for a moment. “I previously surmised that the old woman we encountered at the Sealed Grounds is herself of the Sheikah, indicating that others of the same people would likely be present. It is probable that it is through her that they know of your arrival on the surface.”
Link nodded tiredly. Fi’s calm assessment of the situation once again felt somehow reassuring. “Should I tell them… where we’re going?”
“You must make that judgement, Master. However, my analysis indicates that the probability of a negative consequence from doing so is below one percent.”
There were more questions Link should ask, he felt certain… but his exhausted mind could no longer think of them.
“Thanks, Fi. I…” He fought back a yawn. “…If you… thanks, anyway. I think I… I’ll try to rest.”
“That is advisable, Master.”
Despite everything, Link smiled. “Goodnight, Fi.”
He was asleep almost the moment that his eyes closed.
Notes:
A bit of a digression here, but fundamentally it’s quite important that Impa not magically spring fully-formed from the aether, and if she didn’t then she must have a people, and if she has a people then they must have a culture, and if they have a culture that she shares then they are probably all up for helping Link and Zelda out. In accordance with the prophecy. *shot*
Patch Notes:
- Sheikah population now at replacement levels; invisible ninjas made visible.
- Non-fatal injuries now still severe.
Chapter 13: Clouded Fates
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Here is the statue, chosen one.” Ireya gestured, and Link stepped around the corner to join her. Perhaps once nestled in an alcove, most of the wall that had sheltered it had collapsed inward into the greenly hummocked mound they had walked around. Other than a few thin plants twined around it, it was a twin for any of the idols scattered around Skyloft. “Its power will waken when you approach it.”
Link nodded, glancing up. Wherever they were clearly didn’t have the right soil to support trees well, or maybe the layers of tumbled stone were just too thick. Whatever the reason, it was an open space of grass and scrubby bushes, more than wide enough for a loftwing to land in.
“Thank you, Ireya. I know this is your duty, but… really, I can’t thank you and your people enough.”
Ireya smiled, her eyes crinkling behind her face-concealing wrap. The clothes she was wearing seemed designed to blend into the forest at almost any distance, and she moved so silently that Link found it hard to keep track of her. “Find your friend Zelda and reach your destiny; that will be thanks more than enough for us all.”
“Our prayers will go with you into the sky above,” Davar added quietly from behind him. The two Sheikah had escorted him from the camp as easily and strangely as they’d brought him to it, leaving Link none the wiser as to where it was or even where he was now. Link turned to him, smiling.
“Thank you.”
“Should we leave?” Ireya asked. Link shrugged.
“I don’t mind. I don’t need to be alone or anything.” He looked at them both, the strange, improbable thought hitting him all over again that these people had never even seen a loftwing. What was life like for them, trapped on the ground the whole time? What did it feel like to be without a bird’s presence in the back of their minds? He remembered what the new sensation had felt like a lot better than he remembered what it felt like to be without it. Even now, there was something, the uncomfortable emptiness of a bond stretched thread-thin by distance.
He hoped the statue was as simple to use as Fi had made it sound.
Taking a deep breath, he walked up to it. Just as the one Gorko had shown him had, it shimmered briefly with a faint golden light in the depths of its carvings, one that faded again. Link gazed at it, the carved stone looking blankly back.
Just concentrate… He closed his eyes and focused, thinking of the red bird no doubt still waiting for him in the skies high above, thinking of calling him as he had thousands of times before: here, here I am, come to me, let’s fly. He felt something, some power from outside himself bind itself up with the thought, sending his call spinning out over a distance he could never have crossed alone – and he felt it, felt his loftwing’s worry-surprise-relief, felt the call be heard and the slightly weary bird begin to dive. Not daring to move, Link concentrated on the feeling, on staying part of the connection. The loftwing was flying in the direction he felt Link was, sunward-south and down, for a time. Then there was an opening, cave-mouth strange; Link didn’t even recognise it until the bird was through and he was under-and-in, wide-open-island-under-island, and he realised it was the gap in the clouds and for the first and maybe only time his bird hadn’t felt a single trace of that unreasoning fear on diving towards it, even passing through it. Amazed, he kept concentrating, his loftwing making a sharp turn and flying unerringly towards the source of the call.
“He’s coming,” Link said quietly, and behind him the two Sheikah looked up to the permanently clouded sky. Minutes passed, strong wings beating through strangely thick air, until at last a speck appeared against the clouds, grew to a shape, a red shape – a shape that sighted Link still not daring to move away from the statue, and rejoiced so utterly that he couldn’t have stopped himself smiling had he tried.
Soon enough the red loftwing had landed in a flurry of wingbeats, long legs finding firm footing in the thin grassy soil, and called to Link even as he turned from the statue and ran to him, the bird bowing low to let Link throw his arms around the feathery neck. The loftwing squawked an anxious greeting, and Link smiled. He hadn’t imagined just how relieved he would feel.
“I’m back, it’s okay, yeah. It’s all right. We’re going to go home, just for a bit. I told you I’d be fine, didn’t I? I’m fine. I even met some people who helped me.” Link turned, keeping one hand on his loftwing’s neck, only to realise that the Sheikah were gone, or at least unseen.
“Uh… hello? Ireya, Davar? You can meet him if you want…”
The two melted back into view from behind a bush, both of them keeping a circumspect eye on the gigantic bird.
“That bird is a gift of the goddess…”
“I never thought I would see one. Even the legends…”
Link smiled, obscurely relieved that they hadn’t vanished after all. “Do you want to say hello?”
Unaccountably, they hesitated, looking at one another. Link couldn’t understand why: raised in a realm where the birds were as common and ubiquitous as the people they were bonded to, it had never even occurred to him to be afraid of one, or that the huge tip-hooked beak might look fearsome.
“Very well,” Ireya said, after several long seconds. “But I… do not know how to approach.”
Confused and uncertain, Link didn’t really know what to tell her. “Just come over here. He knows you’re a friend.”
Ireya seemed very hesitant as she walked slowly towards the huge bird, his beak easily twice the size of her head. No more certain than Link what the problem was, the loftwing cooed reassuringly, as if she was a very small child. She stopped a pace or so away, glancing from the bird to Link and back again.
“Is this… acceptable?”
Link nodded. Even his loftwing nodded, head dipping in a mimic of the gesture all the humans used. “Yeah. See? And he’ll remember you almost as well as I will. So if you see him again, he’ll know you’re a friend.”
Ireya smiled faintly. “That’s good. Thank you. Thank you very much.”
Link smiled back. “You’re welcome.”
He glanced over his shoulder as the first stirrings of something began to make itself felt through their link, a tiny flicker of uncertainty and discomfort, as if the surroundings were somehow growing faintly threatening. Whatever the statue had done to bring his bird below the clouds, it didn’t feel like it was going to last very long.
“I’d better go – I don’t think he can stay down here for long. I hope your people stay safe.”
“We will,” Ireya said with a nod, backing off a few paces. Link’s loftwing bent slightly for his rider to mount, the subtle low-level anxiety pushing him to get them both into the air, and Link climbed on. The loftwing straightened, turned, seeking a clear-ish runway to get airborne: it was much easier to dive from the side of an island than to leap into the air, though the birds all could if they had to. Settling on one, he ran; leapt; wings completed the all-important first downstroke – and they were in the air, flapping madly to gain altitude before reaching the trees.
Link looked back once, but the Sheikah were already gone.
The loftwing made a beeline for the gap in the clouds, flying so fast Link had to urge him to slow down a little. Only when they rose up into the clear skies did his growing anxiety finally abate, replaced by a familiar thrill: they had done something risky and it had gone well. Though Link hadn’t found Zelda, the knowledge that she wasn’t far ahead of him, and probably had the Sheikah’s help, gave him hope that perhaps, when he descended again, he would – and that she would be all right.
* * *
Link landed on Skyloft to a gathering crowd, his red loftwing suddenly far more recognisable than he really wanted. A hundred questions seemed to assail him from all sides as he dismounted, and it seemed as though more people were arriving every moment, trying to greet him, to ask him so many questions he could barely separate out the words. He’d never been so grateful for Headmaster Gaepora’s sudden appearance, his usually softly-spoken voice raised to cut through the chaos of words.
“Please, everyone, stand back. I’m sure we’ll all hear Link’s story, but not right now. Let him sit down and explain, and I promise you all, you will hear it.”
Mayor Herrene must have arrived at the back of the crowd, as her higher-pitched voice took advantage of the sudden silence to call into it. Link always forgot just how well the short, stockily-built woman could project her voice when she needed to.
“Listen to the Headmaster and stand back, please. We don’t need to delay the search for one of our own by crowding our best seeker. Link, won’t you accompany myself and Headmaster Gaepora back to the Knight Academy?” She made her way to the front of the crowd, people standing back slightly shamefacedly to let her pass, and looked up at the rather taller headmaster. “If you don’t mind my commandeering your library again, Gaepora?”
Gaepora looked relieved. “Of course not, Herrene. Please, Link, walk with us.”
“Thank you,” Link managed gratefully. The crowd parted for them, though not without whispering and murmuring from all directions, and the short walk from the landing stage to the Academy felt like one of the longest of his life.
It was a relief to enter the headmaster’s familiar study, even with Mayor Herrene there as well. Gaepora pulled out chairs for them both and invited them to sit.
“So, Link,” he asked anxiously, “how has your search gone? Have you found any sign of my daughter?”
Link nodded, and before he could do more than open his mouth to speak, the headmaster was talking again, desperate relief in his voice as he clung to the hope that answer offered.
“Thank the goddess. When they found her bird, I…”
“You’ve found her loftwing?! Was she all right?”
Gaepora shrugged glumly. “She was found on one of the little islands nearby, flightless. She’s badly strained her wing muscles and she’s lucky it’s not worse, but she… she was showing the same kind of seeking behaviour you usually see in a bird who’s lost her rider. We have her caged in one of the recovery pens to stop her trying to fly off.”
Link cringed, looking down. It was rare that a loftwing lost its rider, but it happened. The wide skies were more than big enough to lose oneself in, and if something happened on a solo flight, there would be no-one there to know. All anyone might ever learn would be if they found the loftwing, sometimes perching listlessly as if they’d lost the will to live; sometimes ceaselessly quartering the skies in a futile search pattern. Some loftwings wasted away and died after the loss of their rider; others eventually became feral, rejoining the half-wild colonies on the rockier small islands where the birds lived, bred, and spent much of their time when they weren’t around their humans.
“She was okay yesterday evening. I… I almost caught up with her. Fi could tell she was on the other side of a door, but – there was…” How could he phrase it? How could he say anything other than the increasingly ridiculous-sounding truth? “There was a demon trying to get through the same door. He called himself Ghirahim. We fought him, and… Zelda had left by the time the battle was over.” His eyes met the headmaster’s suddenly, recollection jolting through him: he had proof! “But she left this, under a stone tablet.” His left hand darted into a pouch; drew out Zelda’s bleached handkerchief and offered it to Gaepora, who took it in a shaking hand and gazed at it much as Link had, searching for and finding the embroidered initial and loftwing in one corner. The relief that washed over the older man’s face was like sunlight after a heavy storm.
“That is a good sign,” Mayor Herrene agreed, seeing Gaepora struck almost speechless and smoothly taking charge. “It seems our good headmaster was right to let you go flying off as he did.” She directed a slightly pointed smile at him, which the headmaster completely ignored. It was an interaction that had the ease of long familiarity – between them, they were the two most powerful figures of authority on Skyloft – and Link didn’t think there was any harm or malice in it. “Now, is there anything I can have brought for you? We’ll need a full report.”
Other than water, of which there was a jug on the headmaster’s desk, Link couldn’t think of anything. He shook his head. “I don’t think so.” She looked at him expectantly, and he took a deep breath, trying to set everything in order from the very beginning...
Notes:
Apologies for the slightly late-to-upload chapter; very mundane reasoning - an electrical appliance has developed a fault and so I've been dealing with that as well as writing this chapter!
Patch Notes
- Skyloft system of governance now exists.
- Zelda's Loftwing no longer completely forgotten by the plot.
- “Mass confusion” removed as (terrible) excuse for not explaining the community tragedy.
Chapter 14: Fallen
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
There was danger, boundless all-devouring danger and razor-keen death, and she fell in its clutches. Something unfolded like spreading wings, and just for an instant she was a bird fighting the consuming storm in the same moment as flinging out her hands to catch herself – there was a light-
Stiff discomfort seemed to fill every part of her body. Something touched her shoulder, light but insistent.
“Wake up. Can you hear me?” The voice sounded old, kindly, strangely accented.
Zelda grimaced. What kind of a position was she lying in? She felt strangely sprawled, bruised as if she’d come through a tempest. A tempest – the spinning black cloud – they’d been flying, and –
She gasped, opening her eyes. Half her vision was filled with grass; the other half with an old, wrinkled face gazing down at her from beneath a decorated hood, faded tattoos distorted and seamed by age. A bony hand patted her shoulder and withdrew.
“Be at peace, child of the sky. You are safe.”
“Wh…?” Zelda struggled to draw her uncooperative arms and legs in, to lie tidily on one side. Everything ached. Beyond the grass, and the old woman, she could see trees… huge trees. Had she ever been to an island with trees that large? Everything seemed slightly shadowy, clouded over, and strange sounds surrounded her.
“Be careful,” the old woman cautioned her. “You are lucky not to be badly hurt. You have fallen a long way.”
“Fallen?”
“Fallen,” the stranger repeated. “You were fortunate, I think. Something great and dark gathered in the clouds, and I felt a deep foreboding.” Was it Zelda’s imagination, or did a shadow touch the old woman’s deeply lined face at the words? “I feared something terrible would happen, and I watched the sky. But then I saw a spray of light, and something falling within it. So I came outside, to where it fell, and found you, child of the sky.”
Something cold and incredible settled into Zelda’s bones. The words seemed impossible and yet felt true. “If I fell… then… where am I?” She swallowed. “Is this the surface?”
The old woman didn’t laugh, shocked or mocking; simply nodded her head in calm assent. “You are below the clouds now, child of the sky, as others have fallen before you. I am sorry you have fallen, but glad to be able to welcome you.” She smiled, the expression rearranging the creases of her face, as Zelda took it all in and felt the unlikely twin feelings of horror and excitement jolt in her chest. “I am Mahra Impa, but you may call me simply Impa until my companion returns.” Something about that made her chuckle softly. “Tell me, what is your name?”
“Zelda.” Slowly, stiffly, Zelda pushed herself up into a sitting position, looking up at the clouds above, then around herself. Past the old woman, she could see tree-draped stonework. They had buildings, down here on the surface? And trees – huge trees – and whatever was making all that noise from all around her? The part of her that longed to look beyond the barriers, beneath the clouds that floored her world, exulted; the rest felt a rising panic. Even her loftwing was out of reach, though she cast about mentally for the familiar contact: it was drawn by distance to almost nothing, a hollowness that wasn’t quite death. “I’m… Zelda.”
Mahra Impa smiled. “Do you think you can stand, Zelda?”
Rather than answer at once, she cautiously tried it, stiff and off-balance. The air felt thick and heavy, and a little too warm. Everything seemed to crowd in on her, an ominous, unbearable pressure. “Yes,” she managed.
“Good!” The old woman was definitely pleased, even relieved. “Then come, follow me. The Temple of the Great Seal will shelter you for the moment.” She turned, gesturing to the greenery-cloaked building behind her. “It is safe, protected, as long as no shadow peers too closely. Come.”
Zelda followed the old woman as she made her way to heavy-looking doors in the side of the building, pushing hard against one until it grated open. The sound of stone on stone seemed harsh and wrong, incongruous somehow. She stepped inside behind Mahra Impa, letting the door slowly grate shut behind them, and her breath caught.
She was inside a vast, echoing hall, with a long tongue of stone extending from right to left from the base of a huge set of stairs. It was lit by weak, cloudy light pouring through a hole in the roof that had once been a decorative window, and it was empty. Shadows gathered in the corners, roots or branches snaked along the walls where patient life had overcome solid stonework. Absurdly, she pictured it light and airy and welcoming, filled with people in a reverential hush. But she and the old woman were the only people there.
Mahra Impa made her way across the stone floor with the unconcern of lifelong familiarity, and Zelda ran a few quick steps to catch up, following her into a kind of garden chamber set through arches in the opposite wall, another hole in the ceiling above spilling light down to the plants below. Incongruous simple stools were set about, and the old woman sat on one with a quiet sigh. Zelda took another, sitting facing her, still all too conscious of the ache throughout her body.
“What is this place, Impa?”
“It is the Temple of the Great Seal.” The old woman gestured to the right, the direction that had been left when they entered; the direction that for some reason Zelda hadn’t particularly looked in. “Outside, an ancient and terrible evil is bound by the goddess’ power… and the binding grows thin. Do not pass those doors, young Zelda.”
Zelda swallowed, hard. She had no real reason to, but she believed the old woman’s words utterly. “I won’t.” She looked around again. “Is there anyone else here?”
“Not at present. Young Impa is my assigned assistant, but she went to take a message to those who should know it. Those who will receive you, when she returns.” She smiled again, reassuringly. “As her servants, we welcome all those of the goddess’ people who her grace no longer protects. So we will welcome you, Zelda. We know these lands will be strange to you, but we will teach you to live here, as we do.”
* * *
Zelda sat for a while, the ache in her body slowly lessening, asking questions and listening to Mahra Impa, whose accented, soothing old voice helped to make everything feel a little more normal, to stave off the moment when the real truth of her position crashed in on her as she could feel it would. Her people were called the Sheikah, and they were sworn to the goddess. They knew about the goddess, and about Skyloft and the other islands. They had legends about the raising of the islands to take the goddess’ people to safety, at once strangely different from and yet similar to the fragments of tales Zelda knew, listening to fairy stories or reading the books from her father’s library, with the demons that most people thought were just another part of the myth a solid fact and an implacable foe. But weakened, by the goddess’ great seal, until she could return and end what she began so long ago.
And as she listened, she felt something nameless: not just the faint, seeping dread that seemed to emanate from the doors Mahra Impa had told her never to pass through, but something… else. Like a call, like a voice on the edge of hearing, an insistent instinct. As if someone had asked her to do something, but she’d forgotten what it was. Finally, the conversation drew to a close, and Zelda could sit for only a few minutes longer before the need to be doing something drove her to her feet.
“May I go outside, Impa?”
The old woman looked slightly surprised beneath the hood of her red robe. “Of course you may, but keep close to the temple. It is said that those from Skyloft get easily lost here. And do not forget that foreboding I felt, child. The demon lord’s forces may be near. Can you defend yourself, if you must?”
“Yes.” That, at least, Zelda could say with confident ease. She wasn’t the best fighter in the Academy – when it came to swordsmanship, that was Link, despite how rarely he seemed to really apply himself – but she was more than good enough to hold her own against her classmates. Realisation hit a moment later, and she looked down. “Well… I could if I had my sword.”
Mahra Impa smiled. “That is good. You will learn, here, not to walk without a weapon… for now, at the back of the temple, at the foot of the steps, there is a low chest, longer than your arm. Take whatever you like from within it. It is for our use, after all.”
Slightly confused but willing to obey, Zelda left the weakly sunlit garden and re-entered the temple proper, turning to her left to look to the base of the stairs. The shadows cloaked whatever was there, but as she approached, she saw there was not just one chest, but several, and a couple of small cupboards, all tucked away unobtrusively into the recess between the stairs and the back wall. Only one was long and low, and she knelt and opened it.
Inside, a small collection of weapons gleamed softly in the dim light. Surprised, Zelda gazed at them for several moments before hesitantly reaching in to take a sword. It felt balanced in her hand, looking recently oiled and razor-sharp; it was a little heavier and shorter than her favourite training blade, but it was more than enough. She picked up a scabbard to match it, and closed the lid, sheathing the sword and then immediately feeling slightly stupid. She could fight in a dress, but it was hardly ideal. Why hadn’t she changed clothes before flying out with Link?
The mundanity of the thought was almost her undoing, and she stifled a sob, and then another. As if she could have expected this, this impossible landing below the clouds on the day of the Wing Ceremony – as if she could have expected the storm, she and Link – and Link –
Mahra Impa hurried out into the temple at the sounds to see her crying quietly in front of the supply corner, a sheathed sword in one hand and the other pressed to her face. Moving quickly despite her shuffling gait, she made her way to the young woman and put a thin, robed arm around her.
“There, there, child…”
Zelda struggled to stop crying and speak through her tears. “My- my best friend, he- we were flying together when the storm-” It was all darkness, a whirling terror of images in her head that didn’t make sense. Shearing wind, spinning, blackness. Had he been reaching for her? Or had she tried to save him? What had happened?!
“If your friend fell, we will find him,” the old woman said soothingly. “The Sheikah will find him. Nothing escapes our eye, if we will it.”
Zelda nodded tearfully, wanting desperately to believe it. “This sword – can I take this sword?”
Mahra Impa barely glanced at it. “Of course. But listen, child of the sky – we will search for your friend, and if he has fallen we will find him. You must not wander far from the temple, though I know… I know you want to look for him.” She smiled, her old eyes bright despite the shadow of her hood. “I was your age too, once, you know. And if I were, ooh, several decades younger, I would let you come with me and we would look. But now we must wait, until young Impa returns, and she will look for him and take you to safety. So you can go out, if you wish, but do not let the temple out of your sight.” She turned Zelda to face her, serious, bony hands light but strong on her arms. “If you get lost in these deep woods, it will be you we will be looking for as well, and you will not find your way. Do you understand?”
Zelda nodded again, forcing herself to speak past the lump in her throat. “I understand.”
“Good.” She released her, patting her arm gently. “Then be careful, and do not be too long.”
She sniffed, wiped her eyes, and gave a final nod. “I won’t.”
With that, Zelda turned and slowly, carrying her new sword, made her way to the great side doors and out of the ancient building.
Notes:
The long-promised Zelda chapters and other half of the story!
Patch Notes
- Visitor from the sky now armed as befits dangerous environment.
- Zelda going into danger alone explained.
Short patch notes, long patch explanation! So we already previously covered the note “max-level powers removed from Impa”, but now here we see a lot more of it in action, rather than just not having a seal over a door to force you to follow the line the game wants.
However I try, there is no sensible, logical, or even remotely rational reason that I can come up with for Impa to be randomly immortal (until she decides not to be for also no sensible reason) – and it makes far more sense of Zelda ever being allowed to wander off alone if she's not, and if she simply doesn't realise who and what this girl is until it's too late. So what we have here is two Impas: the elderly, respected Mahra Impa whose duty in her last years is to guard the sacred and holy temple, and the young, up-and-coming Impa from a couple of generations down the line, who's currently assigned as a guard/assistant/general aide, and who is currently off reporting to some other Sheikah, but will soon be back. Mahra Impa does, of course, know her legends, but she hasn't yet connected the skyfallen girl on her own to the foretold duo her people are hypothetically expecting. (She'll work this out before tomorrow, when Link turns up, but more on that later.)
Chapter 15: Lost
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Stupid.
Zelda ran a hand fiercely over her eyes, looking around her. There were no landmarks, no islands to line up in their correct configuration, no sun to gauge north from, just trees, endless huge trees, no two quite the same and yet none of them really distinguishable.
She warned you you’d get lost!
She hadn’t gone far. At least, she didn’t think she had. At first she’d just paced on the mossy stone outside the temple doors, welcoming the faint breeze, listening to the strange sounds, watching the implausibly tiny birds that stayed just out of her reach. Then she’d decided to make her way around the outside of the walls, staying away from the end where the evil that Mahra Impa had told her about was bound. She’d gazed up into the trees, looking for Link in the canopy, desperate to find him, desperate not to find him. How had she survived the fall? How could he have been lucky enough to do the same? And all the time a sense of urgency, of something she had to do or somewhere she had to be, drove her on.
So she’d ventured slightly further from the branch-cloaked walls, finding ancient flagstones in places amongst the dead leaves and undergrowth beneath her feet, glancing back to check she could still see the temple. She’d found a small hill that turned out to be tumbled stone beneath moss and soil, and glanced back again – she could still see the temple – before following it along. Had there been more buildings here, once, beside the temple? What had happened to them?
She’d followed the building along, and realised the slight hollow she was following was a winding road. Stone blocks and fragments of carving revealed themselves beneath her questing hand, a village? A town? Even a city, long lost and forgotten beneath the trees that she looked up into over and over, searching for any sign of a fallen figure trapped amongst their branches or fallen through to land at their feet?
Until she’d looked back to check she could still see the temple, and she couldn’t. She didn’t even know which way it was. She’d turned at one of the crumbled mounds, but she couldn’t remember which one, and they all looked strange and unfamiliar in the rich green shadow of the trees.
Zelda forced herself to take a slow, deep breath. There were two things she could do: stay still and wait, or keep moving, looking for the temple. She didn’t think she could stand to stay still, alone in this unfamiliar place, without her loftwing, while her best friend could be dead or dying; she had to do something!
Slowly, she turned on the spot, looking up for what little she could see through the canopy. The clouds above were solid, not a single break to give her sight of sun or islands, but in the distance, a huge green hill was just about visible through the leafy branches. Zelda made up her mind on the spot: if she could reach the top of the hill, even if it was covered in trees it would still have to give her a vantage point from which she should be able to see the temple, and maybe any other landmarks as well.
Focusing on her determination and not on thinking about where she was or why she was lost, Zelda set out towards the hill. It felt a lot better to be moving in the right direction…
* * *
She had walked for what felt like hours, and the only things keeping her spirits up were the fact that the hill grew slowly larger and larger against the cloudy sky, and that it felt a lot better to be doing something, heading in a specific direction, than nothing. A strange flower she’d investigated had actually attacked her, snapping as though its half-open bud were a mouth, serrated edges uncomfortably like teeth, and only the reflexes born of her Academy training had seen her dodge and strike back, severing the plant from its stem. She’d heard strange calls, and circled cautiously around them, not knowing what they were or if they were dangerous. But, for the moment, all seemed quiet. Even the little birds had fallen silent.
Pushing her way through a bush and wishing fruitlessly once again that she’d thought to change earlier, Zelda stopped dead. Ahead of her, a group of grotesquely humanoid creatures were gathered around a bloody carcass, tearing ragged strips of meat from it with crude, chipped blades, vaguely porcine heads looking oversized on their squat, lumpen bodies. Before she could so much as step back, one of them looked up. Its tiny eyes met hers, and she felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of revulsion: not just the scene of butchery but everything about the creatures themselves was somehow horribly, utterly wrong.
The red-skinned creature squealed and pointed at her, and the others looked up almost as one, snorting and shrieking, aggressive and… Zelda could only think hungry. She turned and fled back through the bush, panicking in the moment as the feeling that they would devour her like the animal they had caught gripped her mind. The creatures ran after her, screeching their hatred, hacking at the plants in their way that she had ducked under or leapt over or gone around, and all she could think was of their relentless evil tearing her apart, consuming her.
She didn’t know how long she ran, faster than she ever had before. The monstrous creatures were slower, but they had endurance, and were far more familiar with the forest, gaining on her every time she was forced to double back, or nearly ran into a carnivorous plant, or disturbed a flock of small birds that tried to dive-bomb her. She couldn’t run forever.
A squeaky voice suddenly called from somewhere above her, among the branches of the huge trees. “Kwee! Left! Up the stream!” It didn’t sound like the warped, squealing sounds from behind her; she felt no sense of repulsive evil, and in a split second she obeyed, darting up the narrow streambed she’d intended to jump over, splashing through the shallow water in a gap between thick bushes only just narrow enough to admit her.
“Go up the slope to your right, kweek!”
Whatever was shouting was following her somehow from above, and Zelda obeyed again, clawing her way up the steep bank along a narrow animal track, twigs catching in her dress. The squeals from behind her sounded slightly more distant, dismayed as well as angry, accompanied by the sounds of the monstrosities hacking at the undergrowth.
“Good, kwee-kee, keep running! There’s a slope behind the big vine-covered tree, kweek, slide down there!”
An ache in her side threatened to become a stitch, and her legs were tired; Zelda forced herself to breathe deeply and keep running. The helpful voice had broken through her panic, given her a moment for her mind to clear. She rounded the tree; saw the slope – part of a hillside where some soil seemed to have recently slipped away – and dashed down it full-tilt, miraculously avoiding tripping and falling over with only her own speed keeping her from slipping in the damp soil. Gasping, she stopped briefly for the first time and turned around, listening.
“Don’t stop, kwee, they’re still coming!”
“Are they – in single file?” Zelda panted, addressing the strange voice for the first time.
“Yes, but – oh no, they’re here!”
Zelda drew her borrowed sword, heavy and familiar in her hand, as the first of her attackers rounded the tree, saw her, and shrieked its fury. Brandishing its sword, it leapt onto the slope, slipped, fell, and tumbled unceremoniously the rest of the way – Zelda jumped aside as it rolled almost to her feet –
“Run, kweek, it’ll eat you, kweeeeee!” the voice from above wailed, as Zelda gripped her sword in both hands and drove it down with all her strength into the squirming body. The creature screeched in pain, vicious sharp teeth bared in inhuman agony, a foul stench worse than rotting meat rolling over her. It spasmed, clutching weakly at her sword as she yanked it free, but another one was already sliding down the slope behind it and Zelda turned and ran, strange discoloured blood dripping from her blade.
“Narrow paths – please – show me narrow paths!” she gasped, fleeing through a relatively open space between thick old trunks.
“You killed one, koo-weep!” The voice sounded surprised, and, she thought, pleased. “Okay! Go, go left a little bit, there’s a thicket!”
Zelda obeyed, veering left and seeing what it had been referring to even as she did: a thick tangle of undergrowth and smaller trees where one of the forest giants had come down and taken at least one of its neighbours with it in some bygone time. Behind her, the screams of her pursuers sounded even more enraged – and dangerously close. She didn’t dare look back.
“There’s a deer track, kweep, just a little further left!”
She changed course, running alongside the edge of the thicket for a few paces before sighting the narrow path, barely enough to do more than put one foot in front of the other, and dashed into it heedless of the twigs slapping her, tugging at her hair and dress. A fallen tree loomed ahead of her; she threw herself beneath it, scrambling up again on the other side – and, again, stopped and waited, panting, sword held poised in her hands. Her attackers would have to scramble under or climb over, or cut their way around – she’d have the advantage.
She always had been better at defence, anyway.
A few tortuously long seconds dragged by, the squeals accompanied again by the sounds of breaking branches and little angry grunts that almost sounded like cursing, before the first of the foul creatures came crawling through, horribly fast, trying to hit her ankles with a slash of its crude blade as it did – she jumped over it; brought her sword down hard on the back of the thing’s neck, cutting deep. It collapsed instantly, a second, even worse smell accompanying its death, and Zelda nearly retched.
The body jerked a moment later, and she leapt back in shock as it disappeared back beneath the tree trunk, flopping grotesquely. Of course – the one on the other side must have pulled it back to get it out of the way. Even as she thought that, she heard another scrabbling noise, the next one ducking below the tree trunk while she was still out of position, catching her first strike on its chipped blade but her second slashing across its face – it screeched in unmistakeable pain – and then her third taking it in the side. It collapsed, one last dying squeal trailing off wetly and hideously, and the sounds from behind the trunk suggested the last two were trying to cut their way around through the undergrowth. Zelda turned, turned again: the sounds were coming from both directions. She wanted to move away from the bodies, didn’t dare leave the shelter of the natural barrier.
Abruptly, at a sudden shrill squeal, the creatures came diving through the widened gap – one on either side of her! Zelda leapt over the body in front of her and towards the one she was facing, stabbing down and, warned by desperate instinct, all but vaulting over her sword and the jerking corpse in almost the same motion as the last one swung its crude weapon: if she hadn’t moved it would have struck her in the back! She snatched her sword back, backing off, the tangled vegetation shoulder-high behind her, hampering her movements, and the last of her attackers advanced, stepping on the still-warm body of its companion heedlessly, malice and hatred glinting in its squinting eyes. It swung at her with surprising force, jolting up her arm as she blocked, and a second time – and Zelda took the opening it gave her as it drew its blade back for another furious strike, and stabbed fast and accurate at where she guessed – if it were human – its heart should be.
It gurgled and fell, dead weight slipping from the end of her blade and pulling her arm down with it, and there was silence.
Zelda edged around the monstrous corpses, trying not to look too closely, breathe too deeply, the adrenaline beginning to fade as, slowly, the understanding that she had killed the last of them settled in. Her legs felt weak and shaky, and her sword was filthy with blood and nameless gore. She couldn’t stay where she was, but wasn’t sure which way to go. She couldn’t face crawling back under the log, past the bodies that lay there, and she turned to follow the deer track deeper into the thicket.
There was something standing there, pudgy and waist-height, and she gasped, bringing her sword up in reflexive defence.
“You killed them all, kwee!” The strangely-accented little voice was familiar, the same as the one that had been guiding her from the trees above. Sighing in inexpressible relief, Zelda lowered her sword again.
“You’re very brave!”
Zelda managed a weak, shaky smile. “Th-thank you. You’re the one who… helped me, aren’t you?” The little creature, a strange, brown-furred animal with a cream belly and almost human-like forepaws, nodded. “What were – what were those things? Why… did they chase me?”
“Bokoblins, kwee. They’re nasty. They want to eat everybody, kwee-koo.” It looked at her with its head tilted to one side. “Are you supposed to be shaking like that?”
“N-no.” She shuddered, and tried to draw herself up a little straighter. “My name’s Zelda. I’m… I’m not from this forest, and I’m lost. I was trying to get to a vantage point, but, they- they chased me, and now…” She glanced up through the tangled branches toward the sky, hoping vainly for some landmark. The hill, she realised to her surprise, was now looming over her – but also, and worse, the sky was darkening, tinged with red in a few places but mostly simply an ever darker grey. “I don’t… I don’t know where I am.” And it’s getting dark, and… “Do you know a-anywhere safe I could go?”
The little creature considered for a moment. “It’s almost night, kwee… I know! I’ll take you to the elder! He’s good at finding hiding places for everything; he can hide you and then you can find out where you are again in the morning.”
Zelda smiled, another wave of relief flooding through her. “Thank you… thank you so much.”
Notes:
Patch Notes
- Knight Academy student's training visible.
- Impressions from past existence weaved into present day while Zelda still unaware.
Poor Zelda. It's tough enough being lost down here alone without having weird subconscious drives pushing you places and being attacked by hideous evil monsters. But she's a tough one, too, and she's holding it together.
Glad to see people are still enjoying - thanks as always for the kudos and comments! They really are massively appreciated.
Chapter 16: Recall
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The old woman stood outside the temple, leaning on a branch she’d picked up. She’d rounded it twice; even gone out into the pit where the great seal cracked and bled darkness into the air. But the girl was gone, and with little trace. Had she been decades younger, she would have set off into the forest after her without a second thought – because if her suspicions were right, the girl was more important even than her sacred watch.
“Mahra?” The voice that spoke was familiar, only just as loud as it needed to be to reach her ears. “What has happened?”
Mahra Impa turned around, regarding her returned aide worriedly: a tall, athletic Sheikah woman as Mahra Impa herself had once been, one of their finest and most respected. “A young woman fell from the sky, Impa. Did you see the storm disperse?”
Impa shook her head, the long tail of hair hanging down the right side of her face swaying slightly with the motion. “The camp is too far from here.”
“It ended in a spray of light. I saw something fall. So I hurried from the seal through the temple to here, where I found a daughter of the sky.”
Impa nodded seriously, still listening.
“I thought she might have been saved by the Goddess’ barrier. She was one of the blessed ones: she was almost unhurt by her fall, and she woke up quickly.” Every now and again, through the Sheikah’s long history, people had fallen from their refuge in the skies above. Most of them died before the Sheikah ever found them, but every now and again one would, miraculously, survive the fall. There was no returning them to the sky, and so the Sheikah had always taken them in, protecting them as best they could and teaching them to live amongst them. Mahra Impa herself had a skyfallen ancestor, four generations back. So it was a surprise, but not an utter shock, to find a young woman fallen outside the temple.
“I took her inside and sat her down. She was worried about a dear friend who had been with her, and kept telling me she felt as if she had to do something, but could not recall what it was. I told her that you would return, take her to safety, and look for her friend in case he had fallen as she did.”
Again, Impa nodded. She would have – though she could already tell that it was no longer Mahra Impa’s priority, and therefore no longer her own.
“She came outside to walk in the clear air, and I cannot find her. I fear she has become lost in the forest, though I warned her against going far. “The older Sheikah took a deep breath, preparing herself to speak the most momentous words of her life. “I do not think she is simply a daughter of the sky, Impa. The light from which she fell, the feeling that she was compelled to act upon, her sensitivity to the great seal even within the sanctity of the temple, my own sense of her, the friend who she lost, even her appearance; the way that she spoke of the storm springing into being before her as if targeted – I believe that she is one of those we have waited for! I believe, truly, she may be the goddess reborn at last as she promised.” She sighed. “And I cannot find her. When I realised who she might be I came out at once, but she is gone. Impa… you must seek this young woman. Go to the sacred one and ask for all her knowledge of what the spirit maiden might look like, and what she must do. Ask for her guidance, and then search for this young woman, this Zelda. You must do this.”
The only outward sign of Impa’s incredulity was a widening of her crimson eyes, which narrowed again in focused thought as she spoke. “I will do this, Mahra.” Uncharacteristically, she hesitated; uncharacteristically, she asked a question already answered. “Do you truly believe it is her? The spirit maiden, the goddess reborn – she has come at last?”
“I do,” Mahra Impa said simply. “I have thought upon it, and on the old warnings that we may not recognise her, and I feel it in my heart. And…” She sighed, ever so softly, briefly seeming every year of her age. “If she is not, we do not have much longer. The great seal weakens more with every month that passes now, since the demon lord attempted his blood rite. Sometimes, I almost think that I can see its evil grow.” She closed her eyes for a silent moment. “If the goddess does not return to us soon, I fear it will be too late.”
If Impa had had less self-control, she might have swallowed. Mahra Impa saw the reaction in her anyway; she knew she couldn’t hide it from the old lady. Not after the years they’d lived side by side in the almost-empty temple, protecting and protected by the sacred power that maintained the great seal. Mahra Impa had never before voiced the fear aloud, though occasionally Impa had seen an echo of it in her.
“Do you think that her friend is her chosen?”
“I hope he may be even as I fear for it. For if he is, and he is dead…”
Impa nodded, once. Their prophecy would be broken before it had even begun, their sacred duty shattered, generations of life and death robbed of purpose and meaning. Then and there, she determined she would not allow it. “I shall tell the others as I journey to the sacred one. Then I will seek the spirit maiden.” She paused for a moment before repeating the unfamiliar name. “I will seek this Zelda.”
* * *
Zelda awoke stiff and cold, uncomfortable and resting on something that crackled faintly when she moved. Disoriented, she lay still for several moments, cracking her eyes open to a dull grey light not quite like anything she had seen before.
She was on the surface. On the surface, far from Skyloft, far from her loftwing, far from friends and family. On the surface… that strange and mythical place beyond the barrier that had forever marked the edge of her world. She had been found by friends, and she had been chased by evil, and there was… something that she had to do.
Zelda sat up, wincing as stiff muscles protested. She had been sleeping on a nest of dead vegetation inside a hollow tree, not far from what she’d thought was a hill and had turned out to be a single tree bigger than some islands. As the night had drawn in, Machi had taken her to another of his kind called Bucha, who seemed to be their leader and who had gathered a few others in the area to help fill this empty trunk with softish bedding while Machi returned to his own place in the woods. Zelda listened to the musical cacophony of sounds coming from outside, and when she could hear no discordant, angry squealing, she squirmed out of the awkward hole in the base of the tree and into what seemed like a cloudy dawn.
“Elder Bucha?” she ventured uncertainly, looking around. The old kikwi had seen her settled and said he wouldn’t go far, but from inside her own hollow trunk, she had no idea where he might have been. “Elder Bucha?”
“Kwooo?” It sounded for all the world as if the elder kikwi was yawning. Zelda looked around, but couldn’t see him – up in the branches, somewhere? “What is it, kwee-koo? It’s barely sunrise.”
“I’m sorry if I woke you, Elder Bucha,” she said politely. “I just… didn’t know where you were.”
A chubby brown-and-cream head popped over the edge of a branch, peering down at her. “Ah! The young human girl! What was your name, Zelda? Yes, Zelda.” The matter remembered to his satisfaction, Elder Bucha clambered along the branch and down the trunk of the tree. He wasn’t as fast and fluid as Machi and the others had been, but he still moved as easily vertically as if he were walking on flat ground. He bounded up to Zelda and stood up, drawing himself up to his full height of slightly above her waist. “And you were lost, kwoop.”
“That’s right, Elder Bucha. I was wondering if you would kindly tell me about the forest?”
“Of course, kweee!” the rotund old kikwi declared proudly. “I won’t say I know everything about the forest, but I don’t know anyone who would know more, hoho! You can run in the branches all day and not get from one end to the other, so you can.”
Zelda listened as he continued, describing more kinds of tree than she’d ever seen before just yesterday; talking about strange animals – deer and boar and foxes and far, far more – and birds and even the horrible mobile plants that had attacked her: “harmless to something your size mostly, unless you walk into it, kweee, but when the bokoblins have been nearby they get horribly aggressive, kwee-koo. Nasty creatures, bokoblins. Horrible evil things.”
After her encounter with them, Zelda agreed with that instinctively and absolutely.
“Sometimes they hang around the ruins, kwoop, so I would stay away from those. There are quite a lot of ruins here, and they’re so crumbly they aren’t always very obvious, but you can tell by the regular patterns between the hillocks.” Bucha nodded sagely. “The biggest ones are the ones around the temples-”
“Temples?” Zelda cut him off reflexively. “I’m sorry for interrupting, Elder Bucha, but I need to find a temple… that’s where I got lost from.”
“A temple, koo-kwee… Oho, as I was saying, there are several old temples in the forest, but they’re all dangerous. A young human like you should be careful near them. Let me see… There’s the one where the humans with the eye like to hide, but that has a nasty, nasty feel to it; we don’t go there, kweee. The deku babas are always vicious there. And there’s the crumbly one in the north-west, kweek, it has a pretty-looking spring in the middle, but you can’t get to it, and it’s very dangerous. All sorts of nasty predators live there.”
Zelda said nothing. Something about the word ‘spring’ had scattered her thoughts, and for a moment, she thought she could hear a voice calling her. Two voices? One voice? It wasn’t her own, or was it? How could it be calling her if it was?
Zelda… You must come to the spring. Please.
It’s your duty, Zelda. You promised.
Duty? But the words were already fading, already lost, only the sense of something she had to do renewed tenfold. Elder Bucha had fallen silent, peering up at her concernedly.
“Are you all right, kweee?”
Zelda nodded. “I’m fine, Elder Bucha. I just… thought I heard something calling me. But I didn’t,” she added hastily, as the kikwi stretched himself slightly taller, his little rounded ears pricked and head turning this way and that to catch the forest sounds. “I just thought I did, for a moment. Will you tell me more about the temple with the spring, please?”
“Of course!” Bucha set his concerns aside instantly, too pleased to find her still so interested in his knowledge. “Well, the spring is in the middle, behind the temple building itself, you see. It’s in a big hole, so you can only see it from the tops of the trees. A human like you wouldn’t be able to climb so close, oh no, so you would have to go into the buildings.” He shuddered dramatically, the bud on his back uncurling slightly and rustling with the motion. “Nasty crumbly dark places, they are. The old elder before me said her elder had been in there once, kwoop, and it was nothing but danger on the inside, just like the outside. I looked in once myself, I did, through a hole in an old ceiling I suppose it was, and there were hideous green bokoblins in there, eating one of those nasty gigantic skulltulas! They don’t come outside except at night, though, kweee. I don’t think they can stand the sun any more. It’s probably why they’re such a horrible rotten shade, kwee-koo. There’s a big old statue in the spring, that one looks like a winged human if I remember it right, and some of the little bird ones around it too. I suppose it was a sacred place once, but I don’t know if you could call it one now.”
Zelda gazed at him unseeingly. She could almost picture the spring, even though he’d barely described it: a sheer-sided hole in the ground with a pool at the bottom, fed by and flowing away through underground channels, a statue to the goddess set towards its back, reached by a door at the back of the temple. A sacred place, once.
“I have to go there, Elder Bucha,” she said slowly. “It’s… it’s like it’s calling me. I have to find that spring.”
Bucha shook his chubby head firmly. “It’s very dangerous there, kwoo. Far too dangerous for a young human, even if you do fight bokoblins! And you don’t even know how to find your way in the forest, kweee… You should stay here and I will teach you. You will get lost again if you try to go there on your own.” He sounded definite, and common sense said he was probably right.
On the other hand, he’d never learnt to navigate in the sky. Zelda glanced up through the canopy at the gigantic tree towering unbelievably far above. It was so huge, the clearing beneath its enormous branches could fit a small island village. She’d been able to see it from miles and miles away, thinking it was a hill. “Well…” She made a show of looking around the trackless forest. “Maybe you’re right.” He was right, all common sense said he was absolutely right, and yet – “I don’t even know which way it would be.” North-west. And the shadows might be faint, but the sun is still over there. Which means… She lifted her arm and pointed, along the line of the stubborn, insistent, nonsensical tugging at her heart. “It could be that way, or that way, or that way…” She turned as she spoke, but kept watching Bucha’s reactions. Completely inhuman he might have been, but his shock as she pointed in the right direction the first time and relief as she pointed in other random ones told her everything she needed to know. Poor old Elder Bucha, he was worse at keeping a secret than her own father.
“Exactly, young Zelda!”
Her own father…
If she stayed in one place, she would never see him again. The old lady, Mahra Impa, had said that there was no way back to the sky. But if she followed this strange call, the voice that she’d been hearing, feeling since before she fell… Even if there wasn’t a chance, she’d be doing something. And she had to know what was calling her, driving her.
“Thank you, Elder Bucha!” she said quickly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay – but thank you for everything!”
Before the old kikwi could react, she turned and ran in the direction of the temple with the spring, leaving only a startled “Kwoop!” behind her.
* * *
Zelda stopped, looking around cautiously, lifting her off hand to her heart. Had something… just happened? She felt as if it had. Something, somehow, somewhere, some shock of distant recognition and a closed door opening, a curtain parting just enough. Cued by an instinct she could not name, she turned slowly, gazing at the southern sky. The trees blocked her view, but… had something happened?
Or was she just going mad? Hearing voices, feeling calls – short of a great spirit’s intervention, it didn’t exactly seem very sane.
She clenched her teeth, willing the fear into submission. If she was, there was nothing she could do about it. She was still lost and alone: that was true however rational or irrational she was, and something beyond the ordinary definitely was happening. Something had happened to her, something strange: the black storm had been unnatural. Mahra Impa had spoken of a sealed evil, and she’d felt it. The bokoblins were another evil, unnatural and wrong. And Link…
She couldn’t have said why she only now felt certain that he was still alive, somewhere out there. But she did, and she clung to it.
Something called to her, stronger than her fear, calling to her hope. Somehow, she felt that if she could only find the spring, she would find answers.
Turning back, she continued on.
* * *
The temple was every bit as dangerous as Elder Bucha had said it would be. Dark and dank, infested with dangers from gigantic spiders down to flocks of evid keese, and Zelda had made her way through it all, avoiding them where she could and fighting where she had to. Some doors oozed slow rivulets of grimy water over her cautious hand as she touched it lightly to them; some rooms were half-flooded; but she had made her way through. Twice she’d thought about turning back, but a sense of looming ominousness behind her and the ever-stronger call from ahead pulled her on.
At last, she’d reached a room with a gloomy rotting shape at its back that she guessed had once been an ornate screen, and slipped behind it to find, as she’d somehow almost known she would, a large door. She was close, so close to something it almost frightened her, and yet she had to keep going, drawn inexorably towards it.
Gathering her resolve, Zelda pushed open the door.
It led into a circular antechamber, empty of whatever it might once have held, watery sunlight shining down through a hole in the ceiling, and on the opposite side a pristine, patterned golden door. It wasn’t glowing, and yet to her eyes… no, to her magical senses, it almost seemed to shine. It was rare she perceived magic quite that directly; just how strong was it? And why, when it was like nothing she’d ever felt before, did it almost feel familiar?
Slowly, still looking where she put her feet and occasionally glancing up to the high ceiling above, Zelda crossed the circular room and approached the golden door. It shone brighter as she approached, until it was glowing visibly, patterns of light added to and somehow complementing patterns of relief. There was no visible handle, no hinges, no bolt or bar, and yet… Uncertain, she lifted her hand, placing it cautiously in the centre of the door.
She could feel it beneath her fingers, not a door but a shield, one that ran all the way around something outside in an intricate and complex dome. Something in it seemed to react to her, respond to her, in the same moment that she recognised it, as if…
Open, Zelda thought – and to her surprise, the barrier dissolved into light.
Not quite believing that had just worked, not quite believing her own acceptance of it, she looked through for a moment. Wide stone stairs led upwards ahead of her, blocking her view of what lay beyond, but somehow she was certain that it was the spring. That it was safe.
She stepped forward, through the open doorway, vaguely aware that it would close again behind her. Fresh outside air brushed against her face, a welcome change from the foetid air of the once-grand, half-swamped temple. The feel of the spring ahead drew her on, one unconscious step after another, until she had crested the stairs and was standing at the open end of the hall, a paved area gently dappled in moss and grass and beyond it a shallow pool that filled the bottom of a near-circular rock-walled hollow. Small waterfalls cascaded down the sides, the slow current eddying silently away beneath an overhang to her right, and in the middle of it all, beyond a series of low, wide stepping stones, a statue of the goddess watched over the scene with her blind stone eyes. The waters almost seemed to shine, an invisible radiance spilling from them.
As if in a dream, Zelda walked slowly to the stepping stones; leapt lightly from one to the next until she was a single expanse of water between her and the old statue. As if in a dream, she knelt, bowing her head. Her own reflection looked back at her, faintly rippled by the water, blonde hair loose and hanging about her face. The shimmering ripples altered it slightly, making her look older one moment, younger the next; lightening her hair still further for an instant with the reflection of the sun, the next scattering its rays out winglike to either side of her instead.
Zelda dipped her hand in the water. It was cool, refreshing, pure, and somehow inviting. Dirt and grime swirled gently away from her fingers and were swept away, and the tension in her hand began to ease. Without fully thinking about it, she sat on the edge of the stone, and slid herself in.
The water came up to somewhat above her waist, and Zelda leant back in it, luxuriating in its cool embrace. Refreshing and invigorating, filled with light, it tangled around her limbs without binding her, washing the dirt and weariness of her travels away, washing her cares away. Despite everything, her mind fell still, still as a clear pool.
For a moment, she felt as if she gazed down from above herself, to where a young woman just barely of age lay floating on the surface of the water, her eyes closed. But the water had an ancient, timeless depth, and a light shone from below, through her, suffusing her. She could feel it glowing from within, and in the next moment she recognised it as her own light. Her light, and she was shining…
A door of spirit never meant to be opened eased gently ajar. She was the light, she was the radiance, riding upon the joyful winds around a sacred duty that was her purpose and her soul. She was the radiance who looked upon her strange, ridiculous, funny, never-quite-worthy-but-always-trying people and loved them all the more for their imperfections. Loved them more, even, than the duty it was her sole purpose to uphold, and then the shadow came, the cousin-being twisted out of true, gone beyond his duty and seeking to consume it all. Caught in an agonisingly impossible choice, she struggled, unable to act lest she fall, unable to bear what would happen if she did not, desperate to somehow escape the bonds of her duty without everyone around her paying the terrible price.
Hers was the curiosity, hers was the drive. Hers was the path laid out before her, a duty and a destiny carefully yet savagely wrenched aside. Hers was the knowledge that there would always be, somewhere, somehow, another way, if only a sharp mind could find it.
Hers was the duty that she set herself, and could not rebel against.
She was Hylia. She was…
She was cold, suddenly jolting upright and gasping in the cool clear waters, her eyes wide, her mind a muddle, the daylight above slowly fading. She was Zelda, she was – she was Hylia, they had a plan – she was old and she was young, her own power flooding through her like something strange and alien, scattered knowledge coming to her as if it was all something she had just forgotten. Impossible, Zelda’s mind protested, even as her own memories cascaded through her to make it inexorably true.
Shivering, Zelda waded back to the stepping stone and pulled herself out, sitting with her knees drawn up and only then noticing that something – the light? – had leached every last bit of colour from her dress, from her belt, from her shoes – everything she wore had bleached to the white of a pure cloud on a blue day, right down to the wrapping on the hilt of her borrowed sword. Only her skin and sodden hair seemed to have kept their colour. Somehow it wasn’t surprising.
Something battered against the sacred spring’s shield. She recognised it numbly, her mind still reeling: Ghirahim, Demise’s lieutenant and sword, a twisted demon lord far beyond the bounds of anything he’d ever been meant to be. Powerful, even more so than she remembered, and she remembered his power, grown rich on Demise’s gifts and on all the gods he’d slain.
She shuddered again, hands tightening convulsively on her arms. The barrier held, for now, but given long enough Ghirahim might break it. The longer she waited, the more Zelda she would become, the clarity of her awakened memories fading, and the less able she would be to face him. She would have – had – left herself some sort of message, instructions because she didn’t know what, if anything, her reborn self would know; she should-
Her head snapped up, and she froze.
Ghirahim was no longer the only sword beyond the ancient barrier she’d erected so long ago. There was another – there was hers. The sword she had created, to be forged in fire and pain and-
-and it was Link, Link on the other side of that barrier with his spirit-bound blade, facing down the demon lord with nothing but his courage and the training of the peaceful Knight Academy. Link, coming to find her despite everything, and she wanted nothing more than to go to him, to thank him, just to see him again.
But she couldn’t. A single, involuntary sob escaped her as she recognised what was happening beyond the impervious barrier. The darkness that was Ghirahim, most of his power leashed, her sense of him mocking and cruel and filled with a twisted, malicious amusement. He didn’t know what Link was, what he might yet become – had been meant to become, and it almost broke her heart – and he was toying with him.
And as long as she left, as long as there was no more goddess reborn on the other side of that golden door, that was all he would do. He would leave to chase her, and Link would be spared. But if she stayed, Ghirahim would cut through anything and everything to get to her, even a half-forged and unready blade.
Trembling, she forced herself up on legs that felt as though they would barely support her weight. There was a message left here, just as she’d known, drawn in faded loops and arcs of joyous spirit the way Hylia had always thought of such things. She read it without trying, without thinking: “You who are chosen to carry out the goddess’ great mission have reached this first of two sacred springs. Here at this sacred Skyview Spring, the spirit maiden must purify herself before travelling to the second, the Earth Spring, hidden away amidst the scorched rocks of Eldin. Remain always mindful of the heavy task entrusted unto you, and continue towards your fate.”
The statue shone, her reading of the message triggering some ancient lock, and a broken stone tablet appeared from its centuries-old resting place in a little pocket of space, lying before the statue’s stone feet. She remembered it, remembered setting the keys into the stone and shattering the map. Why hadn’t things gone as she’d expected?
She could find the Earth Spring without the map. She’d leave it for Link, who needed it and the safe passage it would give him more than she ever could. If only she could just – even just tell him that she was unhurt, if only she could even just say thank you, inadequate words for the depth of all she’d felt when she sensed him beyond the door. If only she could leave him a message…
She fished in the pockets of her bleached dress for her crumpled handkerchief, its carefully-stitched monogram now as white as the rest of it but still visible by its threads. She walked across the water that still shimmered with her own – with Hylia’s – power, and only afterwards realised that she had done it, looking at the rippled surface in sudden shock. But there was no time for that, pain and fear edging her friend’s determination and resolve, and she lifted the tablet just enough to trap her handkerchief under its corner. He would know it was her. He would know that she knew, and that she was still alive.
It was all she could do.
As the overwhelming memories continued to slowly fade, the young woman who called herself Zelda laid both hands over her heart, closed her eyes, and vanished in a shimmer of golden light.
Notes:
Well! We've made it this far! With Zelda beginning to awaken her powers and past-life memories, we are finally at the point where, according to the ORO, you should begin reading from Chapter 1 of Out of Time…! I'll be updating that for a while next for this very reason, but if you haven't read that so far, you're in luck: quite a few chapters exist already, so you can get a solid chunk of reading in.
Patch Notes
- Impa given sensible reason for only catching up with Zelda later.
- Reasons given for Zelda's behaviour.
- Memory cascade stage set for explanation for Zelda's later behaviour.
- Implausible “change of clothes” given plausible reason.
I do not in any way buy that the Sheikah just happen to have a white dress in Zelda's exact size lying around. But I do absolutely buy that being worn by the source of all that blazing golden divine light would bleach anyone's clothes!
As for poor Impa, she actually arrived at Skyview Spring (or at least on the edge of it, since she can't get in) too early, and started backtracking, but missed Zelda on her way here. So she'll just have to trek onward to Eldin once the Sheikah who Link will shortly meet can get a message to her. She's trying!
Chapter 17: Respite
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Feeling somewhat drained after his reception and the long explanation that followed, Link had done as Mayor Herrene, the headmaster, and even Fi had advised, retreating to the Academy’s luxurious baths to scrub away the filth of his travels and battles, though the tension of all he had seen and done and had to do still stretched out before him.
Where was Zelda? Was she safe?
Could she be safe, with that demon, Ghirahim, hunting her?
The answer to that seemed obvious. No, of course she couldn’t. He had to catch up to her, find her. If she felt she had to do whatever it was that Fi wanted them to do, whatever the great task she’d claimed the goddess had set them was, then they’d do it together.
She’d have to spend time crossing the land to Eldin, wouldn’t she? Time he’d gain flying there, descending again through whatever opening in the clouds the broken stone map revealed. He’d almost found her in the temple in the forest; he’d have a better chance a second time. He knew what the surface was like now, knew that Fi would be able to guide him in Zelda’s direction as long as he could find her trail.
Taking a deep breath, he ducked his head under the water, light shimmering through the surface and turning the fanciful cloudscape of the wall mural into a mirage, even the plain grille set into the ceiling wavery as an illusion. Warm water threaded through his hair as if in an attempt to soothe his cares away, and Link let his face break the surface again before scrubbing his hands through it, fingers catching in the knots until he carefully teased them free.
It wasn’t a luxury he expected Zelda to have.
Sitting up sharply, Link reached for the soap, rubbing it into his hair, across his face. Even if he did need to rest, he also needed to go back down there, to wherever Eldin was. At the very least he could prepare for it, try to plan ahead. He ducked his head back under the water, washing the soap off to drift in swirls across the surface, and came up dripping, rubbing both hands across his face to swipe the worst of the water from his eyes.
“Fi?” he called through. The sword was with the rest of his things just beyond the curtain that separated the bath – heated by the fires of the Academy’s huge kitchen directly below – from the rest of the room, where what felt like a hundred flannels and towels sat folded on shelves and laundry baskets waited to receive students’ dirty clothes. “What’s Eldin like?”
The soft chime, fast growing familiar, of Fi’s emergence from the sword sounded, and Link’s eyes widened as her light passed unhindered through the curtain and formed the floating spirit just beyond the edge of the bath, her blank eyes looking, as always, directly at him.
“The Eldin region is characterised by-”
Link snatched frantically at the flannel, water splashing everywhere as he attempted to both draw his legs up and get the small cloth into the most strategically sound position possible at the same time.
“Fi!” he protested, face burning with embarrassment.
“Master?”
“You – you shouldn’t be in here!”
Fi tilted her head, her emotionless demeanour somehow making it even worse. “I was not aware that the social customs surrounding bathing extended to non-humans.”
“Well, they – they do, okay?” Especially if they’re female spirits!
“I will withdraw if this will make you more comfortable, Master. However, you have not previously demonstrated such reservation.”
“What?! Of course I would have!”
“That is incorrect, Master Link. On the morning two days prior to this, you rose and dressed in a manner consistent with the necessary urgency of your quest, and inconsistent with the reservation you now display.”
Link thought back to that morning, remembered abruptly the sword he’d gained so strangely in the night resting beneath the bed, waiting for him to buckle on its scabbard and take it up. Had she-?
“You – do you see everything that happens around the sword?” He didn’t think he’d ever been so embarrassed in his life.
“Perceive would be the more accurate term, Master, since strictly speaking the sword does not possess eyes. However, the answer to your question is yes. Unless I enter a state of dormancy, I am perpetually aware of my surroundings.” She fell silent for a moment, her statement complete, then continued. “If it is of any reassurance, my perceptions are not significantly affected by the clothes that you wear or do not wear.”
That was the opposite of reassuring. Everyone’s naked under their clothes, Link’s cousin Teren had teased him last year when he went back home to visit Spindrift, the small and wholly unremarkable island where most of the rest of his family lived year-round. He’d laughed at him then. I don’t know if I want to think about that!
“Great…” he said aloud, burying his face in his free hand briefly. “Well…” What could he say? Fi didn’t even seem to care, and yet… “Even if it doesn’t matter to you, I’m sorry I didn’t think about it.” Embarrassing or not, he truly was sorry. It hadn’t even occurred to him to consider whether the sword under his bed could see.
“Your apology is accepted, Master, although it is unnecessary,” Fi replied. Link wondered briefly whether her voice had warmed a subtle fraction, or whether he had just imagined it in his relief at her calm acceptance. “I shall update my definition of social customs to avoid causing future discomfort.” She looked at him for a moment longer before drifting backwards, vanishing intangibly through the curtain without it so much as swaying, and Link couldn’t help but relax slightly, though he knew the curtain probably didn’t make any difference to her either.
“Thanks, Fi,” he said, with mingled embarrassment and relief.
“You are welcome, Master Link. Do you wish me to continue describing my knowledge of the Eldin region?”
“Uh… all right. Yes, please.”
I guess if it doesn’t matter to her, she also wouldn’t feel bad about it…
Fi continued speaking as if she had never stopped, eternally calm.
“The Eldin region is characterised by the large volcano that dominates it. Based on my observations of the Faron region, there is a 97% probability that it will be highly volcanically active. Hazards you should prepare for include toxic gases and extreme heat. Creatures living there will be adapted to the hostile environment.”
Volcano…? Link frowned, dredging up myths and stories from his memory as he hastily scrubbed himself clean. “Fi, what is a volcano? In the stories it’s an evil mountain that spits fire somehow…” Her comment on Headmaster Gaepora’s unrivalled knowledge echoed in his mind. What else didn’t his people know?
“As you surmise, Master, it is clear that information has been lost over time. A volcano is any point at which the rock which forms the surface of this world ruptures or fissures, permitting the escape of lava and associated substances from the magma chamber beneath. Lava or magma is the term for molten rock, according to its location. Volcanic activity is frequently exacerbated by negative spiritual influences in the vicinity.”
Link listened, a little wide-eyed. Molten rock? Fi’s last words started him thinking again, however, as he reached for the towel he’d left nearby, standing and wrapping it quickly around himself as he stepped out onto the tiled floor.
“Negative influences… like the demons, right?”
“That is correct, Master.”
“So you think the volcano will be… active because of the demons?”
“I predict that their presence will be a primary driver of activity, yes,” Fi agreed, and Link smiled a little, drying himself off and beginning to dress as rapidly as he could. Even if she hadn’t really sounded approving, she hadn’t seemed to disapprove either.
Fi was silent as Link finished dressing and returned to the other side of the room, brushing the curtain aside as he passed. Although her spirit had vanished, the sword lay where he had left it, safely sheathed and resting across the top of his armour. He tugged his boots back on, lacing them securely before once again buckling belt and baldric into place. Though there was little reason to bear a sword on Skyloft, it didn’t feel right to leave the sacred blade, or Fi within it, behind.
Link gathered up his chainmail, hooking it over his left arm, and picked up the splintered shield in his right hand. The laundry would take care of his battered uniform, but he’d need to take the armour and shield out to the training hall. He found himself hoping he wouldn’t run into too many people on the way as he opened the door – and nearly walked into Pipit’s autumn-yellow back. The older student spun around, serious expression lightening.
“Pipit?”
“Link! It’s good to see you back.” Pipit hesitated there, seeming to cut himself off.
“…What are you doing out here?” Link asked.
“Keeping everyone out,” Pipit admitted. “Half our fellow students seem to be skipping their classes right now. I saw you go in here and realised if someone didn’t hold the door, you’d be mobbed.” He glanced up and down the corridor, looking pointedly at a younger student – Renne, Link thought – who had paused on the stairs to watch them. Under Pipit’s stern gaze, she wilted slightly before hurrying past, glancing sidelong at Link but not risking speaking to him.
Link shook his head, smiling a little, relieved, embarrassed, and grateful all at once. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. You’re doing a real knight’s work, going into… that, to look for Zelda.” Again, he hesitated, and Link could see the question Pipit’s own sense of honour wouldn’t let him ask lurking in his eyes.
“I haven’t found her yet,” he admitted quietly, Pipit falling in beside him as he started to walk with a beckoning tilt of his head. “But I know she’s alive, and she must be more or less all right. She’d left her handkerchief pinned under a stone slab – like a sign in case someone was following her. And I know where she was trying to head, I think.”
Clear relief broke the clouds in the older student’s expression. “That’s great news! Will we be organising a search party?”
Link hesitated. “I don’t know… I mean, it…”
“I’m sorry, Link. I was supposed to stop people asking you questions, not ask my own!” Pipit actually seemed almost angry at himself. “I’m sure the headmaster will make an announcement this evening. Everyone will find out then.”
As they stepped off the bottom of the stairs, Link wondered whether the last couple of sentences had been directed at him at all.
“It’s okay, Pipit. I know everyone’s worried. I just… there’s so much to explain. But-”
“Nonsense. I won’t even hear of it!” Pipit waved a finger in Link’s face. “If you explain to me now, then you’ll be honour bound to explain to them –” as they avoided a group of older students who seemed to be returning from some book-finding expedition, and who seemed minded to approach until Pipit glared at them “– and then the rest of the Academy, and then all of Skyloft. No. You’ve told the headmaster, and the mayor too from what I saw, and that’s good enough. Just focus on what you need to do, and don’t let anything stop you.” His tone grew gentler as he went on, losing some of its firm edge. “And no matter how hard it is, try to keep a brave face. If you can do that, the unhappiness will roll off like water off a loftwing’s back. I always try to keep that in mind.”
Link smiled a little. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” The older student set a hand on Link’s shoulder briefly. “Just get on with what you need to do. Training hall, right?” he added, as he opened one of the carved front doors, holding it for Link.
“Yeah.”
“It’s too close to lunch for sparring, so you should be in luck. As long as no-one sees you going!”
“I’ll hurry. Bye, Pipit.”
“Goodbye, Link.”
The door shut, and Link hurried quickly along the well-trodden path around the side of the Academy to the practice yard and training hall. As Pipit had implied, there was no-one around, and it was with some relief that he crossed the broad yard and entered the huge training hall, shutting the door gently behind him.
The only person in the hall was Knight Commander Eagus, going through a complex training routine on the raised stage at the back. Link recognised the moves after he’d made only three or four of them, a difficult sequence executed flawlessly. As he approached, Eagus paused with his sword raised high, then lowered it slowly, straightening up from his fighter’s stance.
“Link?” His eyes flicked down from Link’s face briefly. “Come to sort out your gear?”
Link nodded.
“Good. A knight should always maintain his weapons and armour.” Eagus frowned. “Hand me that shield?”
Obedient, Link passed it over, watching as the Knight Commander’s eyebrows shot up.
“The surface truly is a dangerous place,” he mused, inspecting the damage. “I’ll take this and get it repaired. Or maybe scrapped… Either way, I’ll make sure you have a new shield before the evening. Something a bit sturdier, too. I’m sure you can handle the weight.”
Eagus set the splintered shield down on the floor beside him and turned back to Link, though not without a last glance at the almost perfect hole left by the Goddess Sword’s peerless blade.
“Now, what else do you need? Don’t be afraid to ask. Gaepora told me everything.” His eyes drifted to the pale blue hilt visible over Link’s shoulder. “I may not know all the details of what’s going on here, but it seems clear enough to me how important it is. Headmaster Gaepora says that sword you’re carrying is the one from the legend of the Goddess’ Chosen. Since you’re the one who found the chamber beneath her statue, and you’re the one bearing the sword, I think I can more or less figure out the rest. So, is there anything I can do that would help you?”
Hearing Knight Commander Eagus’ straightforward acceptance felt like an unexpected, strange relief, lifting a weight Link hadn’t known was there.
“Thank you, Knight Commander. Actually, I… the place I think Zelda has gone is going to be even more dangerous.” Link glanced over his shoulder at the sword, just for a moment. “Fi, the spirit of the sword, says it’s a volcano, a place where molten rock comes out from underground, and there’ll be toxic gases and extreme heat. Is there anything you can think of that would help?”
After a moment of surprise and uncertainty, Eagus frowned. “I’ll see what I can turn up. Might be able to get something for the heat from Gondo, or at least wherever he buys his supplies…”
“Thank you very much,” Link said quietly. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Well, lad, that’s why we have a chain of command.” He smiled, brief but sincere. “Honestly, I don’t like that this falls to a student, but with poor Zelda still out there alone there’s no time to lose, never mind the years it would take to finish your training. So make sure to come to me if you need anything.”
“I will, sir. Thank you.”
“Fly well, Link.”
Link bowed quickly and turned away, heading through to the back room. Full of racks of practice swords, shields, and armour, it smelt of polish and oil and metal and leather, and it was, as usual, empty. Relatively few students actually liked cleaning and maintaining the gear they used. Right now, however, the idea seemed almost soothing. Dropping the chainmail into a bucket of sand to deal with later, he automatically picked up a couple of rags, a scrap of harness soap, a whetstone, and one of the half-empty bottles of oil before letting himself out of the back door into the tiny scrap of heavily-fenced land between the training hall and the edge of the island.
Perched on one of the low benches, belt and baldric in a pile beside him, Link drew the shining sword from its scabbard, examining it minutely. There were no scratches or nicks on the blade; no rust; no sign of dirt, not even traces in the angles where hilt met blade, nor yet on the wrapping of the hilt itself. It seemed perfect, spotless.
All the same, he hadn’t been able to forget the feeling of utter revulsion he’d felt during the moments Ghirahim had held the shining sword. There had been nothing to see upon it afterwards, and yet it had felt soiled, somehow. It couldn’t hurt to try and clean it, surely, even if there was nothing to see.
Lightly dampening the first cloth, he began to gently wipe it along the blade, paying careful attention to the pattern of the engravings, into making sure he covered every last edge and dip. It felt almost soothing, working his way slowly and methodically along the blade, turning it over to clean the other side. There was something almost relaxing, almost reassuring to it, losing track of time carefully working in the Skyloft wind and sun, eradicating any possible trace of the dangers he had fought and survived, of Ghirahim’s foul touch.
Link turned his attention to the hilt, working even slower as he traced every groove of its carving carefully, from guard to pommel; around the blue gems set either side of the blade. Only when he was content that was done did he change his grip, balancing the sword cautiously across his knees and holding the guard – not the blade, not when it was so peerlessly sharp it had gone through the wood of his shield like so much butter – as he worked a small amount of soap into the hilt’s pristine wrapping with a care that would have washed away even the tiniest, most microscopic of dirt particles.
He scrutinised the edges keenly before passing over the whetstone, seeming as likely to blunt the blade, and picked up the second rag instead, tipping a little oil onto it and beginning to slowly, smoothly work it along the blade. Any trace of water on the metal had long since vanished in the cool wind and warm sunlight, and the oiled cloth ran smoothly along it, leaving behind almost no visible trace of its passage.
Fi had briefly considered informing her wielder that cleaning the sword was not necessary, but she had determined that the information itself was not particularly necessary. The procedure was entirely harmless, and it appeared to produce positive feelings in him, as well as reinforcing behaviours conducive to his future survival. Furthermore, with prolonged exposure, she was able to conclude that in some manner it had had a beneficial side-effect: it seemed to have significantly lessened the intensity with which the memory of being held by Ghirahim, in direct violation of her purpose, had been saved. Since Fi did not possess the capacity to directly control her memories once she had stored them, she decided that this effect was a notable benefit, although the question of precisely why and how it had occurred remained.
It seemed a shame to Link, as he sat in the early afternoon light, to resheathe the sword immediately – even if the scabbard itself hadn’t still needed cleaning. Cleaned, oiled, and perfect, he let the Goddess Sword rest across his knees for a little while longer, leaning back against the stone wall behind him. He would have to wait for the Knight Commander to get him a new shield, and whatever else he could find, before they could leave Skyloft again, and he and Fi, with luck and the grace of the goddess, could finally catch up to Zelda.
Notes:
Well hey, we’re back here! From now on, Reforged will be my primary focus! And the Wii will be getting more use again as I go back to researching every event in order…
I didn't intend the accidentally funny bit, but there you go, sometimes things just happen… like Link asking perfectly sensible questions at a moment that would have been fine if Fi were anyone else.
Patch Notes
- Pipit now hides his problems when giving dubious life advice about hiding your problems.
- Knight Academy functionality improved: holds lessons for its students.
- Healing potions no longer fix damage to fabric.
- Dirt propagation improved; bathing now valid action.
- Characters occasionally change clothes.
- Shield availability variation with time given in-character reasons.
- Link no longer required to fund his own survival while on important quest; commander who wishes there was more he could do permitted to do more.
If you are following the ORO, you should have arrived here from Out of Time Ch. 10. Continue reading The Sword Reforged until Ch. 35!
Chapter 18: Broken Things
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link glanced back at Orielle, who nodded once, soberly. In the recovery pen, a lavender-feathered loftwing paced back and forth, broad wings not quite fully folded, held awkwardly and yet still occasionally, flinchingly, the bird would make an abortive move to unfurl them as if she might fly. Whichever way she turned, her eyes remained fixed on the sky through the far side of the pen; she hadn’t even noticed Link.
“Hey,” he called softly, gently, as he reached the bars, the loftwing’s evident distress almost a pain in his own chest. Zelda was gone, and unlike him, her loftwing couldn’t even search for her. He could only imagine how it must feel, the poor bird’s heart all but breaking. Out in the sky somewhere, he felt his own bird’s concern-sympathy-sorrow, and gave a little mental push to remind him to stay away. Orielle had warned him that if she saw his loftwing, Zelda’s would almost certainly try with all her might to follow him into the sky.
She stopped in her tracks, turning her wide-beaked head towards him, bright, intelligent amber eyes despairing and desperate and pained. Link reached out a hand through the bars, offering it to her.
The bird came closer, steps almost wary. She didn’t want to be a prisoner, Link could see: injured or not, she wanted to be free, to be seeking the young woman who was her counterpart and the heart of her existence. He could see in the bob of her head the little hope: will friend-of-Zelda free me? She squawked softly, almost mourning, and lowered her head to his hand.
Link petted her, and wished that anyone other than the bird’s own rider could really, truly communicate with a loftwing. Smart they might be, but they didn’t entirely understand speech, or not clearly. Why would any bird need to, when their rider was right there to already know what it meant?
“It’s going to be okay,” he said aloud, as gently as he knew how. “I think I know where Zelda is going.”
The bird squawked loudly at her rider’s name, drawing her head up and looking down at him, demanding, questioning.
“I’ve almost found her once already. I’m going to find her, I promise. She’s okay, and I’m going to find her.” Link stretched to stroke the short, soft neck feathers, lying smooth and sleek under his touch. “You have to stay here and get better so you’re okay when she gets back. She’d be mad if she found out you were trying to fly while you were still hurt. Remember how angry she was at me that time?”
The warmth of the memory struck him with a sudden pang of grief and worry. It was just another day, another of the thousand little events in their lives; he’d almost forgotten it, had forgotten it until memory had thrown it up when he needed it. It had been last winter: he’d done something to his right arm earlier in the week, recently enough that it still hurt, and Zelda had caught him about to go flying and berated him all the way back into the Academy. It hadn’t even been a class day.
Afterwards, she’d relented, and they’d gone around the Skyloft market together, once she’d made him promise not to fly until he could close the Academy’s heavy doors with his off hand without wincing.
Link raised that same off hand to his eyes, wiping away the sudden pricking suspicion of unshed tears. Zelda’s loftwing cooed at him deep in her throat, and ducked her head beneath his left hand so that his fingers landed on the base of her proud crest, its long feathers sleeked almost flat to her head in her misery.
“I promise,” Link said softly, scratching the bird’s head through the layer of downy fluff beneath the smooth and water-resistant head and crest feathers. “I promise I’ll bring her back. So you look after yourself until I do, all right?”
The loftwing cooed again, deeper. It wasn’t a negative, although he didn’t take it for agreement, either. Then again, even if the bird had understood every word he’d said in perfect clarity, would he have willingly agreed in her place?
“That’s it,” he said encouragingly. “It won’t be long, I hope. I’m going out to look for her again as soon as I have more supplies. We’ll bring her back safely.”
Link withdrew his hand slowly, the loftwing drawing her head back up, standing at her full height to watch him go. He could almost see something halfway between a command and plea to bring Zelda back safely hovering in her bird’s amber eyes.
Turning from the pen, he walked back to Orielle, who set her hand on his arm with a sad smile.
“That’s the calmest she’s been since she was brought here. Thanks, Link. You seem to have really helped.”
Link managed a small, sad smile of his own. “She knows I’ll be searching as hard as she would.” She’s counting on me… “I’ll set out again as soon as Knight Commander Eagus has got the equipment he’s giving me, so I’m glad I came down here. I’m glad it helped.”
“It definitely did,” Orielle said, nodding. “You take care of yourself out there, Link – and your own loftwing, too. I believe you can find Zelda, but don’t do anything stupid. Parrow and I don’t need another patient.”
“I’ll do my best. Fair winds, Orielle.”
Orielle smiled as he turned away. “Fair winds and the goddess’ blessings, Link.”
Link left the recovery pens with the purpose in his step renewed, heading for the chamber beneath the goddess’ statue. Placing the heavy, engraved stone was the last thing he could do before he was ready to leave, waiting on only whatever the Knight Commander could find. The gap in the clouds that he needed would be waiting for him…
His mind filled with partial plans and with uncertain guesses at what a real volcano might look like, he managed to cross the network of bridges to the Isle of the Goddess without meeting more than a couple of people, both of whom thankfully took his distracted passing greetings as a clear sign that he was in too much of a hurry to talk. The half-dome at the gate, ancient and crumbling, almost reminded him of something… or was it simply that he’d seen it at least once a week ever since he’d arrived at the Academy? The brief flicker of something familiar turned strange twisted in his heart as he stepped through the open gates and into the peaceful courtyard beyond, the serene statue of the goddess gazing down upon him with her warm expression and empty stone eyes – and an archway where there had been only solid stone before at her feet, leading down into darkness. Perhaps it was the body that had lain down there that made it feel more like the open mouth of a tomb than the sacred place Fi had led him to, where he had found and taken up the sword. His mind almost seemed to slip away from the memory of that departure like a bird in a contrary crosswind, and as he approached the opening, Link took a deep breath.
For all that he felt it, he let no hesitation enter his stride as he passed through the doorway and walked down the short flight of stairs. As before, the very air itself seemed to brighten as he reached the bottom, first in the centre, then splitting into four balls like torch flames that hovered without support, casting a gentle light throughout the room. Despite himself, Link glanced to his right: there was a deeper darkness in the shadow, a stain upon floor and wall… but no slumped figure, identity lost to the decay of ages. Relief and gratitude to Headmaster Gaepora, who had to have arranged for the body to have been taken away for a decent burial, mingled with an odd, strange pang of something he couldn’t quite name, as if disturbing even that were tantamount to a kind of sacrilege.
Link crossed the room, avoiding the pedestal from which he had drawn the sword and halting before the altar in its alcove. Reaching into his pouch, he drew out the broken stone tablet, heavy in his hands. It was the first time he’d really looked at it properly, noted more than just the red gem set into it: it seemed to portray mountains, a great cloud rising from the truncated peak of one. Was that the volcano?
He supposed he’d find out soon enough, hefting the tablet and sliding it carefully into place atop its fellow, prevented from falling mainly by the way it fit into the frame. Just as the green one had and still did, the red gem set into it glowed with an inner light, followed moments later by a rush of power he could feel around him, flowing up into the statue above before fading away.
Fi sprang from the sword, hovering somewhat to his left.
“Master, I am able to confirm the location of a second opening in the cloud barrier. It is in the skies to the northeast, above the Eldin region. I will be able to guide you to it when your preparations are complete.”
“Thanks, Fi.” Link glanced over his shoulder, back towards the entrance and the shadows. Was there something that he wanted to ask? He wasn’t sure that he did, or that he even knew how. “I guess we should go to the market. I might be able to find something useful there.” Since I need to wait for Knight Commander Eagus anyway…
Fi nodded, impassive. “Any additional preparations you are able to make will increase your probability of success.”
Link turned away from the altar and began to walk back across the room, Fi drifting at his shoulder. “What do you think that probability is right now, Fi?”
Fi seemed to consider for a moment, rapidly analysing, evaluating. Link wasn’t entirely sure why he thought that was what she was doing, since her expression had barely changed, but he was fairly certain of it all the same.
“On the assumption that Knight Commander Eagus is able to procure a fully plated shield and a means of providing you with protection against the heat of the area, I calculate that your chances of successfully navigating the terrain near to Eldin Volcano without sufficient hindrance to cause significant delay are approximately 75%. The probability rises with any further assistance you receive and decreases if the Knight Commander is unable to find one or both items, or if my extrapolation of the likely demonic presence proves to be a significant underestimate.”
“Sounds fair,” Link said, starting up the stairs to emerge into the welcome familiarity of the daylight. “Do you think-” He paused, frozen, and Fi leant forward slightly in her hover. Had he heard something – someone shouting?
“Master, I detect a female voice calling at the far end of this island. Analysis of her tone indicates moderate distress.”
“-Right!”
Fi returned to the sword as Link sped to a run, dashing along the timeworn stones of the path towards the bridge. He heard the call again as he passed the halfway mark, loud and worried, searching.
“Kukiel!”
Link vaguely recognised the name: of all the children of Skyloft, Kukiel was said to be the most adventurous, or at least the most troublesome. She was Jakamar and Wryna’s daughter, wasn’t she?
The latter was at least proven when he dashed through the gates and almost ran into Wryna going the other way, hands cupped around her mouth to shout again. She yelped, instead, as Link skidded to a stop.
“Oh! Oh, you startled me! Have you seen Kukiel?”
“Sorry, Wryna,” Link said, a little shamefaced. “I haven’t seen her. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Kukiel… She’s been missing since you arrived this morning! I haven’t seen her all day!” Wryna clasped her hands. “I know she’s always doing this, but I’m really worried this time. She usually at least comes back for lunch… unless she’s got stranded on someone’s roof again… oh, Kukiel.” Her fingers pressed white-knuckled against one another. “I’ve been all over town already, and nobody’s sure when they last saw her. Little Coranne said she saw my Kukiel playing with ‘someone with a scary face’, she said she didn’t know who it was. I don’t know who on this island has a scary face! Strange things have been happening recently, and I… I’m really worried about her this time. Kukiel is too trusting! What if someone could have kidnapped her?”
Wryna’s fear suddenly seemed all too realistic to Link. Another day, any other day under bright sun and fair winds he’d have reassured her she was worrying over nothing and offered to help, certain the missing girl would turn up on a rooftop, or in the caves the children were banned from playing in, or up one of Skyloft’s treasured handful of trees. But her concern struck all too clear a chord, and at the thought of a stranger with a scary face, Link’s mind snapped back to the demon lord, Ghirahim. Laughing, mocking, taunting, evil. He couldn’t have, could he? He’d been chasing Zelda; he couldn’t possibly have gone up into the sky just to prey on the venturesome children of Skyloft? But what if, vindictive, he’d set something else to do so, something Link hadn’t yet seen, something that could cross the wide skies? He’d claimed to be the one who caused the tornado, claimed to have known enough about their lives high above to call it up and snatch her from the sky. Link’s heartbeat seemed to echo in his ears as he directed a thought to his sword.
Fi? Do – you don’t think something could have followed us up here, do you?
The moment’s pause as Fi considered seemed far, far too long.
I cannot determine that at this time, Master.
“What?”
“What?” Wryna echoed, confused. “What do you mean, what? You’re Link, aren’t you? You know more about what’s been happening than I do!”
“No, no, Wryna, I…” Link raised his hands in appeal and apology. “I was talking to my sword – asking her what she thinks. You know, like a loftwing. Uh, Fi, this is Wryna; Wryna, this is Fi. She’s the spirit of the sword. I’m sorry.”
Wryna stared open-mouthed as Fi obligingly emerged from the sword with the familiar chime more felt than heard, her blank eyes focused on the Skyloft woman.
“Your surprise is an expected reaction,” Fi informed her calmly, emotionlessly. “However, Master Link requested that I appear to you.”
“Er… ah… …a pleasure… to meet you?” Wryna ventured, hesitantly. Regarding her impassively, Fi said nothing.
“I was asking Fi what she thought, that’s all,” Link explained. “She knows a lot more than I do. Maybe more than Headmaster Gaepora, even. Listen, we’ll help you look for Kukiel, all right? You should try the rest of the Isle of the Goddess. I just came from under the statue, so I know she’s not in the chamber down there, but I haven’t been around the courtyard.” He hoped Wryna couldn’t hear the effort it took to keep the tension at the back of his throat from his voice. “Fi and I will ask at the Academy, then head over to Skyloft and check the caves and wherever else we can think of. If we get near her, or anywhere she’s been recently, Fi might be able to sense where she is.” You can do that, right? You helped me track Zelda. “One of us has got to find her.”
Wryna’s tight-clasped hands relaxed, relieved and grateful. “Oh, thank you – thank you so much, um, both of you.” She offered Fi a bow, not entirely sure how much respect the strange, young-looking spirit was owed. “Goddess bless you both, thank you. I’ll search the courtyard!” She hurried past them, calling out again. “Kukiel? Kukiel!”
Link glanced back at her, then hastened back across the bridge, feeling its familiar creak and gentle sway beneath his feet. “Fi, what did you mean, you can’t determine that? What’s happened? Have the demons followed us back here?!”
“I cannot determine that at this time, Master Link,” Fi repeated. “The cloud barrier was created to be impervious to the powers of the demons below. However, there is now a passable opening in it, and it is apparent that Ghirahim possessed the power to weaken it sufficiently to cause the tornado that claimed the spirit maiden, your friend Zelda. There is now a low but non-zero probability that a demon capable of flight could pass through the same gap and enter this realm of the sky. Additionally, there exists a faint, weak demonic aura in this region.”
Link felt the blood drain from his face. “What?!” Why hadn’t she told him the moment they landed?!
“Master Link, you do not yet possess full information. The aura to which I refer is very weak, and has been present for over a century. It does not appear to have altered in the days in which we have been absent from the island, indicating that no demon of significant power has recently arrived. However, it is both relevant and potentially significant in this situation.”
He forced himself to take a deep, slow breath. “Okay. So there’s something bad on Skyloft… but it’s not, not something that directly followed us here. Probably. Nothing powerful. So it’s not Ghirahim. Right?”
“That is correct, Master Link. Ghirahim’s presence in this vicinity would be impossible to conceal, and I would inform you immediately.”
“Thanks.” Link said it with a wash of relief. “I thought you would have. I just…”
“Your concern for the missing child combined with the circumstances in which you find yourself led to fear of the worst event you could plausibly conceive of, causing you to extrapolate the necessary requirements for that event to have occurred. I understand, Master Link.”
“I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” Fi’s calm acceptance somehow made him feel worse. Of course she’d have told him about anything she thought was important; it seemed like she’d been doing that ever since they met. If whatever she felt had been there for over a lifetime, and it hadn’t even changed, why would she have stopped him in the middle of the most important thing he might ever do in his life to tell him it hadn’t changed? “I guess… like you said, I’m afraid. But it isn’t fair to assume you wouldn’t even tell me something like that.” He sighed. “Okay. So… we’ll go to the Academy like I told Wryna we would, and get help there. Then, if we go across to Skyloft, can you follow Kukiel’s trail?”
“The population density of Skyloft and the lower strength of most humans’ auras in comparison with the spirit maiden’s render this a more difficult task than previously. However, if you are able to locate an item or place sufficiently imbued with Kukiel’s aura, I will be able to match that aura to other locations that she has recently occupied.”
Link nodded. “Got it. All right – let’s go.”
Notes:
No rest for the valiant, huh?
Patch Notes
- Loftwing vets added.
- Reason provided for Wryna to be so worried by island’s awareness of recent events.
- Link now joins search entire island is carrying out due to legitimate fears rather than abandoning search only he can carry out for search literally everyone present can help with.
- Skyloft population size remains realistic; not all locals know one another intimately.
- Proto-Blade of Evil’s Bane continues to correctly detect evil.
Chapter 19: Ill Omens
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The hour bell began to chime as Link hurried towards the upper doors of the Academy. Had it really got so late into the afternoon while he’d been taking care of his sword and armour? He braced himself for the crowd of students he knew would be leaving their lessons, and indeed, the doors opened before he could even reached them, pushed by Fledge and Roki. Both younger boys had been Link’s classmates until the Wing Ceremony, and Fledge in particular tended to look up to him. His eyes brightened as he spotted Link, and he hurried over, Roki and a couple of others going their own way.
“Link! Everyone’s glad you’re back! Did you manage to find Zelda? Is she okay?”
Pipit’s advice flickered in Link’s mind, backed by his own sense of fear and urgency. “I haven’t found her yet, Fledge, but I think she’s all right. I found… she’d left a sign, in case anyone was following her. The headmaster will tell everyone about it this evening…”
Fledge nodded. “Well, we’re all rooting for you! I know you can find her!”
Despite everything, the younger student’s faith in him was faintly heartening, and he smiled, just for a moment.
“Thanks. Listen, Fledge… have you seen a little girl around here today? Kukiel? She’s been missing since this morning.”
“Huh?” Fledge blinked, some of Link’s worry infecting him. “Kukiel’s gone missing, too?!”
“You know her?”
“Yeah, she sometimes asks me to play with her, and, you know…” Fledge seemed embarrassed. Link imagined it was probably yet another thing Groose had picked on him for. “I tell her about being a student at the Academy and stuff. She says she wants to join when she has her own loftwing. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Link said, shaking his head helplessly. “I ran into Wryna up on the Goddess’ Isle, and she’s been looking for her since this morning. She says no-one she’s talked to has seen her. And I… After everything that’s happened, I’m worried.”
Fledge nodded, seeming to take it as seriously as Link himself. “Then we’ve got to do something! I’ll start looking too!”
“Thanks, Fledge.” Link couldn’t have hidden the relief and gratitude in his voice if he’d wanted to. “Can you get people searching here on this island while I go over to Skyloft?”
“Of course!” Fledge said bravely. “I’ll make sure we search everywhere here!” He thought for a moment. “Kukiel was telling me the other day that she’d made friends with another boy… Maybe if you can find him, he might have seen her recently? I don’t know anything about him other than that she said he liked loud games too, though…” He looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry that’s not much use.”
“It’s somewhere to start,” Link said, honestly. “Thanks again. I’ll ask around and see if I can find him.”
“Good luck!”
“You too.”
Link turned and jogged down the steep stairs that connected the upper level of the island, almost more of a giant balcony that happened to connect to a rock outcrop, to the lower. Student legend had it that the small island had once been honeycombed with caves, before the rock had been mined away to build a large amount of Skyloft as well as the Academy itself. Of course, student legend also had it that all sorts of implausibly terrible things had happened in those caves – how else would they tell a good ghost story, after all, Zelda had once pointed out.
He missed her.
A thought struck him as he hurried down the stone stairs connecting the Academy island to Skyloft proper.
“Fi? Is there anywhere the aura you felt is stronger or weaker? Even a little bit?”
Fi didn’t even pause before responding, her musical voice sounding in his mind. There are differences, but they are of low significance, Master. There is a 70% probability that its centre is on the far side of Skyloft. It is fractionally weaker upon the Isle of the Goddess, although this is most probably due to the traces of the goddess’ power that linger there.
“Right…”
Link spun his mental map of Skyloft around in his head. What was opposite the Academy? Or perhaps… opposite the Goddess’ Isle?
The houses across the river? The graveyard? The Light Tower? Nothing in particular stood out to him about any of them, but if Kukiel had last been seen in any of those three areas… it could only imply that his fears were, horribly, true.
Venturing into the bustle of Skyloft, headed for the plaza and the Light Tower, he could only hope that she was somewhere else, and there was nothing to his fear at all.
* * *
Clambering up the steep and narrow stairs of the Light Tower, Link stepped out onto the lower walkway to be greeted by Jakamar turning around sharply, surprised.
“Oh, it’s you, Link.” He sounded almost disappointed, but before Link could speak, he went on to explain himself. “Our daughter Kukiel’s run off again. I was just up here looking for her.”
“I am, too,” Link explained. “I met Wryna searching for her on the Isle of the Goddess, and…”
“Wryna’s practically hysterical about it. She’s almost convinced herself our girl’s been kidnapped.” Jakamar sounded fairly blasé about it, but Link suspected he was more worried than he let on. One of Skyloft’s better-known figures as the island’s master builder, everyone knew he was bad with heights anywhere except on his loftwing. If he’d climbed even to the lower level of the Light Tower without an actual repair job to do, he had to be worried.
A loftwing squawked from above, and Link glanced up, sighting a dark-feathered bird peering out from the tower’s top. He guessed it was likely Jakamar’s loftwing, but couldn’t be sure.
“But it’s Kukiel we’re talking about!” Jakamar continued. “You can bet she’s just off playing somewhere.” He paused. “Still, let me know if you see her, okay?”
“I will,” Link promised. “I take it she’s not here, then.”
Jakamar shook his head. “My bird’s up on top of the tower, and I’ve been all up and down the inside. I thought maybe if I stayed up here I might spot her. But nothing yet…”
“I think I might have a way to find her,” Link ventured. “If you don’t mind me visiting your house quickly?”
Puzzled, Jakamar shook his head. “Of course not, but I don’t think you’ll find anything except her toys. Still, if you think you can find her, do whatever you want. Although I’m sure she’s just playing somewhere she shouldn’t be again.”
Link made himself smile, light, pleasant. “She probably is, but I’ll help you look anyway. I’m still waiting for the Knight Commander to find me a new shield, after all.”
Jakamar clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good lad, Link. Thanks.”
This time, Link’s smile was a little more real. “Don’t mention it. Well, I’d better go – I’ll tell you as soon as I find her.”
Jakamar waved goodbye as Link descended the stairs and headed back across the plaza, dodging the groups of people strolling around – visitors to Skyloft who’d landed there; Skyloft residents leaving the island from the diving platform; people just out enjoying the day…
Someone dashed across his path, and Link hopped back to avoid colliding with him, a little “Oops, sorry” escaping from the boy in a very familiar voice.
“Hey, Gully!” Link called. Gully turned around and came back, surprised, his tousled mop of brown hair as flyaway as always.
“Link? I didn’t realise it was you! Hi!”
Link smiled. Gully was a good kid, if barely half his age. He’d helped him get aboard the Airshop once last year when Beedle hadn’t noticed the boy too short to ring its dangling bell, and Gully had been pretty much eternally grateful.
“Did you find Zelda?”
“Not yet, Gully. But she left me a sign, so I know she’s all right. But actually, right now I’m looking for Kukiel. You two are friends, right? Have you seen her?”
“Kukiel?” Gully frowned and scratched his nose. “Well, she’s been playing over the river a lot lately… It’s kind of a long way from my house, though, and anyway, last time it was yesterday evening and my mum called me home. Why? Did something happen?”
Link shrugged. “I hope not. But her parents are out looking for her, and they’re worried. Apparently she hasn’t been seen since this morning. So I said I’d help find her.”
“You’re… not going to get her into trouble, right?”
Link smiled. “No, I’m not, I promise. I just want to make sure she’s safe.”
“Well… okay. Kukiel said she met a new friend in the graveyard the other day. So, she’s probably playing with him. I don’t know who he is, though.” Gully looked a little put out. “I wanted to meet him ’cause she said he was fun, but she said I had to come down to the graveyard and I didn’t want to.”
The graveyard…
“Thanks, Gully,” Link said out loud, swallowing back his sense of dread. “I’ll go look for her. If you run into her anywhere, tell her her parents are worried, okay? And tell them you found her?”
Gully nodded. “I can do that! Bye, Link!”
“Bye!” Link waved, but Gully was already running off about whatever errand he’d been running or game he’d been playing before their paths crossed.
* * *
Heading over the low hill towards the river, and Jakamar and Wryna’s large, sturdily-built house beside it, by a zigzag path that let him check the back alleys, Link focused his attention briefly on his loftwing, soaring in lazy circles above Skyloft. The bird had picked up on his unease and sense of worry, of course, but hadn’t seen anything that seemed worrying or different to usual. Link let him feel his gratitude and praise for helping him search, and the red loftwing’s warm response was almost calming, an eternal constant in his less and less stable world.
“Fi?” Link murmured, casting a glance back over his shoulder. “Are you worried, too? I don’t like that she’s been at the graveyard. It’s about as far away from the Academy and the Isle of the Goddess as it’s possible to get…”
I do not experience worry, Master, Fi’s unheard yet musical voice responded, the glow from his swordhilt subtle in the golden sunlight. However, I am aware of your concern. The information that we have uncovered to this point does fractionally increase the plausibility of the hypothesis that Kukiel may be in danger, as you fear. However, the data is limited, and highly circumstantial.
She at least didn’t think he was being completely foolish, Link supposed. Though, given the circumstances, he might have preferred it if he was. It was getting harder and harder to keep his head and stay calm.
“Okay. Well… the graveyard’s usually pretty quiet. So you’d be able to detect Kukiel’s aura there, right? If she’s been there?”
I predict that the probability of my being able to do so is at least 95%, Fi agreed.
“Good.” Crossing the main road again, Link dodged a knot of people gossiping in the middle of the street, glancing to his left along one of the little side streets that led up to the market. “Tha-”
“Whoa!” A familiar voice stopped him in his tracks, looking back ahead sharply to see that he’d come within a pace of walking into Parrow, Orielle’s brother and fellow loftwing doctor. Whenever one of them was on duty looking after a loftwing, the other would be out and about taking care of everything else. Like his sister, Parrow was a welcome and friendly sight.
“What’s the matter, Link?” Parrow asked. “You look pale!”
“It’s Kukiel!” Link explained, more worry in his voice than he’d intended. “Jakamar and Wryna’s daughter? She’s gone missing, and-”
“And what?”
The words suddenly spilled out. “And what if something followed me back here? Wryna’s scared she was kidnapped, she’s apparently made some sort of friend in the graveyard, I’ve been – where I’ve been, there’s… all sorts of things, monsters even, and-…”
Parrow landed a hand on his right shoulder, heavy and familiar and reassuring, the same broad hands that had soothed Link’s loftwing after a flight injury or in a bout of illness. Link took a deep breath, calming himself again, looking up into Parrow’s concerned eyes.
“You don’t think this has anything to do with all those silly stories about there being a horrifying monster living in Skyloft, do you?” Parrow asked, about half humouring him. “I’m sure you’ve heard them, haven’t you? The one that comes out in the middle of the night to eat people, or whatever? Henya’s husband says he saw it once, but I think he just made it up to terrorise his younger siblings, and can’t go back on it now. You’re not thinking about that, are you?”
“I hope it’s just a story, Parrow,” Link managed, aware how ridiculous he sounded. Despite their long history, the legend of how their distant predecessors had defended the goddess’ people, the Knights of Skyloft had little to do beyond break up tavern brawls, patrol the skies in search of people in distress, and occasionally deal with hostile creatures. Skyloft – the whole sky, really – had been peaceful for far longer than anyone could remember. “I really do. But Fi – this sword – says there’s some kind of evil aura up here, and she thinks it’s centred opposite the Academy and the Isle of the Goddess, and that’s where the graveyard is…”
Taken aback, Parrow frowned, and looked for a long moment at the pale hilt visible over Link’s left shoulder. “Well… I suppose I have to wonder, then, don’t I.” He was looking increasingly uncomfortable, but he squeezed Link’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll look for her, Link, and I’ll ask my bird to keep an eye out on that side of town. I’ll tell Orielle, too, when I replace her in a few…” Glancing up at the sky, Parrow’s eyes widened. “Oh no – in a few minutes! I have to make dinner before I relieve her!” He dropped his hand, looking back and forth uncertainly. “But, if something’s wrong…” Coming to a decision, he faced Link again. “I’ll buy her something from the market and tell her what you said. Don’t do anything too dangerous on your own, all right? That’s a Knight’s job, and you haven’t graduated just yet …Do they know?”
Link nodded. “They should by now. I’m sure Wryna’s told them, but even if she didn’t, I asked Fledge to search the Academy, so he’ll have told the instructors, and they’ll have passed it on.”
“That’s good.” Parrow was clearly relieved. “Well, I’m sure if there really is something to the stories, they’ll be able to handle it. We’ll help look as well, but you stay safe, all right?”
Link nodded, not trusting himself to say anything more as Parrow hurried uphill towards the market. He supposed he was right – if there was something dangerous on Skyloft, it was the full-fledged Knights who were supposed to deal with it. His lessons over the years had even explained why in great detail. But the Knights didn’t have Fi. Had never even seen a demon. Would have no more idea what they might be facing than anyone else… and that was if they could even find Kukiel in the first place.
“Come on,” he muttered, half to Fi and half to himself. “We’ve got to find her before nightfall.”
As Parrow had noticed, the sun was sinking worryingly low. They didn’t have long.
* * *
Letting himself into Kukiel’s family’s house, Link had quickly found a small box of what had to be her toys, finely made of wood and cloth and worn from heavy use. Although she shared a bed with her parents, which Fi had explained had left the three auras too mingled to discern, the toys were probably rarely handled much by anyone but her. Fi had told him she’d memorised the girl’s aura, and so Link had left again, taking care to latch the door against gusts of wind before hurrying back up to the stone bridge over the river. The far side of the river was almost entirely houses, each one with its own little rooftop garden growing loftwing-fertilised food or bright displays of flowers or sometimes both.
Once he’d crossed the river, Link had started calling for Kukiel, pausing at each side street to shout her name along it. Nothing had happened, and no-one he’d spoken to had seen her, and the sky was turning red and gold, his shadow swallowed up by the long shadow of Market Hill stretching out across the island, itself about to be engulfed by the upward shadow cast by Skyloft at the very end of the day, when the sun sank below the level of the island itself.
He stood at the top of the shady dip that housed the graveyard. It would have been a little valley, if it wasn’t for the fact that two of its sides were open to the sky. The gravestones stretched out before him in regular rows, the grass clipped neat and short, wild flowers growing here and there. The old tree’s spreading branches shaded the far end, where a little shed half-stood, half-burrowed into the steep hillside. Nobody ever went in there if they didn’t have to; it held nothing but the graveyard tools: spades; wheelbarrows; tarpaulins; dusty coffins; uncarved headstones…
Fi appeared beside him with a chime, seeming almost strangely bright against the rapidly darkening backdrop.
“Master Link, I detect a fading aura that matches the one upon Kukiel’s toys in this location.”
“So she has been here!” Relief washed over him, and he called out again. “Kukiel!”
Only the wind whistled in response.
“Kukiel!”
Something squeaked shrilly in the old tree, and Link fell abruptly silent, hand reaching back to his sword, Fi springing back within it before his fingers touched the hilt. Of course some keese would be resting there; it was one of the more solitary locations on the island. He just hoped they weren’t evid; as long as they weren’t, they’d be too timid to even approach him, more likely to fly out to sky if he got too near the tree.
The leaves rustled, and as the first shape emerged Link saw it was wishful thinking, drawing his sword as the viciously hostile keese launched itself towards him, followed by a second, then a third. If it hadn’t been for Kukiel, he’d just have run, the way he’d been taught since he came to Skyloft as a boy… but he couldn’t leave the graveyard, and instead he stood his ground, a quick and well-aimed swing of the Goddess Sword cutting the wing from one; the other two circling, diving from opposite sides – Link spun, taking a risk, feeling as much as seeing the blade as his eyes swept from one to the other, as the very tip of the sword sliced through the head of one and, fast as he was, the second was bisected almost at the base of the blade. Glancing around quickly, Link checked there were no more before turning to put the keese with the missing wing out of its misery.
Drawing the sword back, he looked at it, its glow now clearly visible in the fading light, checking it was clean. Killing the keese still made him uncomfortable, perhaps more so for being on Skyloft – he’d barely thought about it in the moment on the surface, in the temple so close to Zelda trying to reach her, fighting off bokoblins and all manner of things far more horrible than a handful of evid keese.
“Can you tell where Kukiel went, Fi?”
Fi reappeared, gesturing with the floating substance of her arm. “I detect two concentrations of her aura, Master. One is beside the small wooden monument beneath the tree. The other is within the shed. Traces of her aura appear to continue beneath the shed, descending vertically.”
“Beneath the shed?” Link echoed, confused. There shouldn’t be anything beneath it – should there? It was just the shed, where things not yet needed for digging graves were stored, a place of spiders and… and children’s make-believe tales.
It seemed almost impossible that there could really be something evil lurking inside the graveyard shed.
It seemed, in the twilight, having just returned from a surface full of demons with the spirit of a holy sword hovering at his side, all too believable that there really was something evil lurking inside the graveyard shed.
Link sheathed the sword and crossed to the shed, Fi floating gracefully beside him. He cautiously lifted the latch; pulled the door open. The hinges squeaked.
Several spades made an untidy bundle against one wall, pinned against it by two upended wheelbarrows. Blank stone markers to the left were ghostly shapes in the growing dark, and huge ragged steps at the far end were the outlines of the stack of coffins. Link stopped, knelt, lit his lantern, throwing the dark shed into flickering relief. The floor was dusty; the dust was stirred up. People had come in here – several people, or one many times. One of the wheelbarrows and the spades behind it looked recently dirtied. Had there been a funeral while he was gone? Who?
“Master,” Fi said quietly, “I detect an anomaly behind the coffins. There is a significant amount of open space between the leftmost stack and the rear wall of this shed. The traces of Kukiel’s aura continue over the stack. It is probable that she climbed over the coffins to the space behind.”
Link very briefly wanted to rest his head in his hand.
“We’ve got to follow her,” he said aloud, approaching circumspectly, his lantern held high. Now that he had light, now that he was looking, he could see scuff marks on the coffins, piled like giant steps. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself, he followed the trail, quickly having to duck low as he ascended onto the second, then third rank of coffins – and, just as Fi had said, saw that there were no more behind, each coffin slightly protruding from the one above it just enough that they made a very steep and narrow set of stairs to climb back down. Barely able to crawl in the narrow space between coffin and ceiling, Link swung himself around and clambered down, landing on what seemed to be a strangely clean expanse of normal planked floor. A faint breeze seemed to blow up past him – was he imagining it?
“Kukiel’s aura descends through this region of floor,” Fi informed him, drifting through the narrow gap as if lying on her stomach, her subtly glowing face looking down at him. She looked more ghostly than ever, and yet she was still reassuring to see.
“Then there’s got to be something… some loose plank, or…” Link knelt and lifted the side of his lantern, holding it at a slight angle. The flame wavered and danced as he moved it, stabilising past certain points: he traced a rough outline along the short, stubby planks. “…Or a trapdoor…?”
The shadows shifted and swung with the motion of his lantern, and as Link sat back he noticed one deeper and darker than the others, a knothole at the end of one of the planks. Even holding his lantern close, he could see nothing but blackness, but the flame wavered wildly, and he could feel a cool breeze on his fingertips.
Link wished he’d gone back to the Knight Academy for his armour. All the way across Skyloft, it could easily take him an hour to get there and back, and by then it would be far too late. He couldn’t risk it.
Sticking his finger in the knothole, Link pulled – and almost fell back, surprised, as the plank and two more on either side of it lifted far too easily on silent hinges, revealing a narrow tunnel down through wood-reinforced earth and stone, a rickety-looking wooden ladder clinging to its side. It went so far down the bottom was lost in darkness.
“Look at this, Fi,” he breathed, and Fi’s head all but appeared over his shoulder, drifting nearly upside-down with her head tilted as far back as it would go.
“The ladder contains a small quantity of demonic power, which is preserving its structural integrity, Master.”
Link swallowed. There was only one thing he could do.
Fi returned to the sword even as he glanced back at it, hooking the lantern onto his belt and taking a deep breath before climbing onto the strange, terrifying ladder.
It looked like a very long way down…
Notes:
This will forever be known as the chapter that saw Ardil's search history gain the phrase “standard coffin dimensions”!
Patch Notes:
- Game puzzle replaced with more realistic form of concealment.
- Link’s worry shaded per conversation.
- Housing density increased to match increased Skyloft population density.
- Relevant marker added per continuing plot threads from Out of Time.
- Jakamar’s fear of heights now consistent; parental concern secretly demonstrated.
Chapter 20: Unnatural and Wrong
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link had descended until the hole had given way to open air, the ladder clinging to what had to be the rocky side of Skyloft for a few rungs more until even that had curved away, and there had been nothing but a rickety ladder, uncomfortable and splintery in his hands, between him and the grasp of the bitter night winds. He’d folded his arms around it, holding the rungs from behind to keep himself better anchored; climbed step by grimly determined step.
He’d been asking himself how far it could possibly descend when, at last, his light had illuminated an equally rickety-looking wooden floor below. At last, his reaching foot hit something besides another rung, and Link stepped back from the ladder, still keeping one hand on its side. He didn’t trust it, but he didn’t trust the floor beneath him, either, or the cold night air buffeting him with its eddies so close to the side of the island. Somewhere beside his own awareness, his loftwing called uncomfortably, sensing the danger of Link falling yet too afraid of flying in the blackness of the night to circle below.
I’ll be all right, Link thought, trying to soothe him. You’ll come and get me if I fall. Just stay up there. If his bird had tried to fly in the night, Link didn’t know what he would do. Other than his own lantern, the darkness beneath the island seemed absolute: beyond his own light he couldn’t tell rock wall from clouded sky – and neither could the red loftwing, a deadly problem for a bird in flight. I’ve got to do this.
If the bird had been a human, if he hadn’t been bonded to Link’s very spirit, he would have argued. As it was, he knew as well as his rider how imperative the force driving him was, and merely squawked softly and unhappily, shifting his talons in the soft soil of someone’s roof.
Link exhaled as he felt the loftwing’s reluctant acquiescence, refocusing on his surroundings, still holding the ladder with his right hand. The flickering light of the lantern at his hip illuminated a platform made of mismatched planks lashed together with varying widths of rope, supported against the sloping rock of the island by bracing struts. None of it looked sturdy, and in place the gaps between the planks were wide enough Link could quite probably have put his foot through. To his left, his back to the sky, Link could see a path of long planks lashed together atop more struts driven into the wall, sloping downwards.
Surely, surely not even Kukiel would have come this way? Though Link couldn’t entirely deny the thought that he himself might have at that age, especially in the daylight, not knowing any of the things he had seen in the last few days, the dangers he only now knew truly existed. Faced with a rickety path beneath his own home island, he too might have ventured down it… and the goddess only knew what might have happened at the other end.
If Kukiel had come here of her own volition at all.
Jaw tight, Link drew his sword, Fi’s subtle cool blue light somehow reassuring to see.
“Fi, did Kukiel come this way?”
Yes, Master Link, came the response. The aura continues along that walkway. Similarly to the ladder, it contains a small quantity of demonic power, strengthening it. I calculate that it will bear significantly more than your weight.
Right then, he’d willingly have traded the demonic power for the chance of falling through it and into the sky below. Anything, to have there be no demons in Skyloft, preying on those who lived there. Forcing himself to unclasp his hand from the ladder, feeling desperately vulnerable in the night with no armour and no shield to protect him, he walked slowly across the creaking wood, every step cautious of the contrary winds so close to the rock face; of what unknown horrors might attack him from the darkness.
Setting foot on the walkway – not that narrow, no: three feet across at its narrowest, but flimsy and without railings – Link descended cautiously, his right hand held out slightly as much for reassurance as to aid his sense of balance, the softly glowing Goddess Sword in his left. As he made his way down, the platform at the base of the ladder left behind and his island of light showing only the walkway, the slanted rock wall beside him, and the overhang of the island’s edge on the edge of vision above, he began to feel like an island of reality in an ominous dark void. A strange, whispering sound began from his left, almost inaudible beneath the wind at first but growing louder as he walked, a soft flowing susurration like distant ghosts murmuring to one another, until it seemed as if he was on the edge of making out words yet there were none to be found. A faint and shimmering light seemed to waver to his left, out in the black sky and impossible, motion down his vision flitting as if something were twitching the veil of reality away-
“Fi,” he breathed, barely daring to whisper, hand locked tight on the hilt of his sword, “what’s happening?”
The sound that you hear and the reflection that you observe are both created by water falling from Skyloft. I determine from this observation that we are beneath the remnants of the river.
Waterfall? It was the waterfall? Link breathed out a shaky sigh of relief, his heart still pounding uncomfortably in his ears.
“You’re sure?”
I have identified the waterfall with 100% certainty, Master.
She was certain. He knew it. It was the waterfall, only that, water spilling from Skyloft when the lake and river that ran through it were too full for their stone-built banks at either end. Though they grew slightly shallower in the summer and the waterfalls would briefly dry up, the passing clouds still always brought more.
Harmless or not, a reminder of where he really was or not, it felt as though it took all his courage to turn from the faint and wavering reflection of his own light; from the black on black hints of motion and the whispering rush of water spilling over the lip of the island and down into the sky below. The waterfall wasn’t the real threat. Fi said it was the waterfall, and she was right. The real threat lay ahead of him, somewhere, growing closer with every step.
A shape spread out ahead of him, as if his pool of light had widened as he walked: another platform, lower, tucked away, around this last curve behind the waterfall. Just seeing the wider space felt both a relief and a threat. Much the same as the platform above, rickety-looking yet bearing his weight, it was only as he stepped onto it that something else loomed out of the darkness ahead, finally within range of his lantern’s flickering light: a wooden wall, ramshackle and unkempt, partially and badly plastered, spiders’ webs strung across its cracks and corners. A doorframe just slightly off square squatted in the centre, and as Link stepped slowly towards it, a childish scream split the night.
His heart seemed to stop in his chest.
“No!”
And he was running, slamming into the door with his shoulder, half stumbling through as it flew open, into a room lit by flickering smoky torchlight – he saw it almost without taking it in, eyes locked on the giant bulk of something in the middle of the room, maybe wings; the thing turned towards him, giant horns curving above angled yellow eyes and jutting teeth like a child’s drawing of a demon, half keese, half nightmare. It flared its bony wings and roared – and, seeing the small figure of a child to its right, Link kept running: two steps more, the creaking wood floor giving way beneath his feet to the solid if chipped stone of a rocky outcrop, sword raised to strike; the demon cowered back, raising its arms to defend itself against the human who barely reached its chest, crying out in what sounded for all the world like fear-
“Stop! He’s not a bad man!” a childish voice cried, and suddenly the girl that had to be Kukiel was somehow in front of him, almost pressed up against the demon’s legs with her little arms raised high as if to catch his sword, and somehow Link stopped his swing with a jolt he felt through every muscle of his body.
“Stop!” echoed the demon, trembling. “Please! I beg of you… don’t hurt me!”
The sword’s bright blade was shaking nearly as much as the demon, Link’s breath harsh and rasping, nothing seeming to make any sense. He drew it back sharply, knowing he was leaving himself open with every moment he remained frozen, not knowing what to do.
“Kukiel, come away!” Even his voice barely sounded like his own, rough with horror. “Get behind me!”
Kukiel reached behind herself and clung stubbornly to the cowering demon’s loose gown, gripping the cloth in her small fists. “No! Mister Bats is my friend! I’m not going anywhere unless you promise not to hurt him!”
“…What?” Link could barely force the word out. His eyes flicked from Kukiel to the monstrous figure behind her. It looked… terrified.
Slowly, with all the force of his will, he took a step back.
“Oh goodness…” the cowering monster breathed.
“That’s better!” Kukiel snapped, her loud voice turning shaky. “N-now promise! A-and say you’re s-sorry!”
“I… but… you screamed…” Link managed.
“We were playing a game!” Kukiel wailed, and abruptly burst into tears. “M-mister Bats d-doesn’t mind if – if I’m l-loud, and he always plays with me, and, and-” She sat down hard, sobbing. “He’s my friend…”
Slowly, watching Link, the hulking demon knelt behind Kukiel and put its clawed hands delicately on her shoulders. “Dear girl, don’t cry… I am quite all right.” The tremor in its own voice rather belied the words. “This young man didn’t hurt me at all. I’m sure he won’t hurt me now he knows I mean no harm.” The grotesque face looked up at Link almost appealingly, and Kukiel gripped its clawed hands as if for comfort. “Perhaps… perhaps an explanation is in order?” it ventured, hopefully.
Link nodded, still shaking and now utterly at a loss, the Goddess Sword bright in his hand, his instincts at war.
“My name is Batreaux,” the demon began. “I know how bad this must look to you, but I assure you, I bear you and this delightful child nothing but goodwill. You see, dear Kukiel is the only person who doesn’t scream and flee at the very sight of me! Since she began to visit me here, I’ve felt positively jubilant! You see, my heart’s only wish is to become friends with the lovely people of Skyloft… but, as you can surely imagine, it has proven quite difficult to break the ice when they flee at the mere sight of me.” The great wings, half-folded, drooped slightly. “That is why I reside here, in this humble dwelling below Skyloft. I know that I am a monster, and I wouldn’t dream of terrorising the fine people of this town with my presence. Most humans run in terror in the very moment that they see me.”
Something about the demon’s words, so unlike Ghirahim’s lazily mocking tone, rang true. Despite his own experiences, Link felt a stab of pity for the monstrous being.
“S-so…” he managed, “you were just… playing?”
Batreaux and Kukiel both nodded, the latter sniffling and wiping tears from her eyes.
“Mister Bats is the only grown-up who doesn’t mind how loud I am.”
“On the contrary,” Batreaux said, “I find it positively adorable!”
“He lets me come down here and play Screams with him, where you take turns to try and scream the loudest and if you don’t scream at all you lose. I can beat everybody at Screams except Mister Bats.” Kukiel added the last part proudly, and, to Link’s continued bewilderment, the demon smiled down at her fondly. “He wouldn’t ever hurt me. Once I almost fell over the edge of the island, and he saved me, just like a loftwing would!”
“That was very good of him. Of you, Batreaux.” It took two tries to slide the Goddess Sword back into its scabbard, and Link felt another pang of misgiving as he did, as if the sword itself – or rather, Fi within it – did not agree. His legs felt shaky. “I’m… I’m sorry for charging in and almost attacking you. I thought…” He shook his head. “Kukiel’s parents have been searching for her for hours, and I – I was afraid something terrible had happened to her.”
Batreaux took a deep breath, lifting the hand Kukiel had let go of and laying it over his heart. “I accept your apology with my humblest gratitude. I do understand how terrible it must have seemed. You have a truly kind and generous heart. Even if I could not sense it in you, I would know that now.” Something that might have been concern flickered over the big demon’s features. “Please do sit down, if you want to. You are most welcome in my poor abode, as welcome as dear Kukiel.”
Link glanced around, taking in his surroundings properly for the first time. Poor was the right word for it: the walls were in no better repair inside than out, and about all that could be said for the wooden portion of the floor, near the door, was that he couldn’t see sky through it. Ragged and mismatched strips of cloth that looked suspiciously like old torn bedsheets hung from the ceiling like a pitiful attempt at drapes, and an oversized stool nailed crudely together from scraps was most probably the demon’s seat. Another stool perhaps served as Kukiel’s, this one better-crafted save for one of its three legs, which was hacked crudely from a plank and nailed on. Some planks and offcuts of wood lay stacked against one wall, which didn’t surprise Link: wood was a precious resource. He wondered where Batreaux had got as much of it as he had, even in as bad shape as it was. Above it, a painting hung on the wall: a self-portrait of Batreaux, head and shoulders against a backdrop of his darkly patterned wings. It was better than Link would have expected, and looking around again, his eyes fell upon several others, poorly framed but otherwise of a quality out of place in the hovel-like surroundings. One was of a single human, a girl Link didn’t know who looked a bit older than Kukiel, standing on the river bridge, but most were of crowds, of people gathering outside in places around Skyloft. Though each one was painted as if seen from a distance, they looked… warm, inviting.
“Ah, you see my paintings?” Batreaux asked, clasping his hands together. “I do love to paint, but I do not get paints down here very often, you see.”
“I could fetch you some paints, Mister Bats!” Kukiel offered instantly. “I still have some of my birthday money!”
“Oh no, dear child,” Batreaux said, patting her on the shoulder as she finally let go of his other hand, and though his eyes lit with a strange longing his tone was sincere. “I couldn’t possibly accept. You should spend your birthday money on yourself! Birthdays don’t come very often, do they.”
Link stepped sideways and sat down heavily on the smaller stool. It creaked a little under his weight, but held. How could this demon be so kind, so nice? It conflicted with everything the stories had ever said; everything his time on the surface had only confirmed was true. Yet he couldn’t force himself to believe it was an act. Batreaux seemed genuine – genuinely sincere; genuinely afraid; genuinely forgiving.
“How did you get here?” he asked, instead. “I thought… I thought demons only lived on the surface.” How can you be like this? Who are you? What are you?
Batreaux looked back at him again, and rose to his feet, Kukiel getting up in front of him. “Oh, silly me… I should have realised you would want to know that. It is quite a boring story, I’m afraid.” With delicate care, he swept Kukiel up effortlessly in his clawed hands and deposited her on the larger stool, backing away. “Are you sitting comfortably?” he asked, in an almost sing-song voice, and Kukiel giggled, swinging her legs back and forth and nodding. “Then I’ll begin.”
“Long, long ago,” Batreaux began, “before there were any islands or humans in the sky, I lived here with the other sky spirits, such as the great spirit Levias, although of course I am far beneath one such as he.” He placed a hand over his heart. “My friends were the birds and bats that migrated every year, and even the insects that swarmed this high. But then, one day, after a terrible evil began to cover the ground below –” He shuddered with distaste, and Link didn’t think it was an act. “– the islands lifted into the sky, as it pleased Her Radiance Hylia, and the clouds became solid, and there were almost no birds or bats or insects any more. But…” Batreaux almost fidgeted, shifting his weight from side to side. “There were humans. Such marvellous people! I had never seen them up close before, and now here they were! I told myself I should not bother them, and I did not for hundreds of years, but over time I could not help myself. I started to watch this lovely town of Skyloft, and oh…” He wrung his hands together, the long claws interlacing mesmerisingly. “I realised that really, in all of the world, nothing could possibly delight me so much as to become a human, and live among such wonderful people every day. And that is why I made my home here, beneath your beautiful island.”
Link frowned. “So you were always a demon that lived in the sky, even before the goddess brought us here?”
The sword over his shoulder glowed sharply, and Fi abruptly emerged from it, making Kukiel jump with a squeak – but, Link noticed, Batreaux didn’t even blink. Had he already known she was there?
“That is incorrect, Master,” Fi stated. “The demon Batreaux has omitted an important element of the tale.”
“Who are you?” Kukiel asked, wide-eyed. “Where did you come from?”
Fi spared her a glance with her blank eyes, her head unmoving and yet Link was certain he saw, or felt, her gaze flicker to the little girl. “I am the spirit of the sword. My personal designation is Fi.” She returned her attention to Link and carried on, and somehow he also knew that a part of her awareness was fixed intently on Batreaux. “Master Link, it is clear from the tale he tells that the spirit Batreaux once was has grown overly attached to humans. He has departed from his nature; from the purpose of his existence, against Nayru’s Law, and has thus become a demon.”
Batreaux wrung his hands together again. “Oh goodness, I am afraid your friend is telling the truth,” he admitted woefully. “I barely knew what to call it, when I felt myself changing. I tried to seek out great Levias, but I was terribly afraid he was going to eat me, so I fled again. But I resolved I would never hurt anybody, even if I am not entirely the spirit I used to be.” He clasped both clawed hands over his heart. “I could certainly never harm anyone as adorable as Kukiel. Despite my current, regrettably demonic state, I assure you, my heart’s only wish is to be friends with all the people of this wonderful town.” He looked at Link with a hopeful appeal.
“I… think I understand that,” Link said slowly. Fi’s words and Batreaux’s agreed, for all that he could still feel the sword spirit’s purity of purpose focused on the demon, telling him in indefinable subtleties that here was something wrong, to be destroyed. “I’m sorry, but I need to ask this: Fi, do you think he’s telling the truth, too?”
“I do not detect deception, Master,” Fi said calmly. “However, his intentions do not alter the fact that he is a demon. I have confirmed that he is the source of the weak demonic aura surrounding Skyloft. This aura is inimical to all natural life.”
Batreaux hung his head, the giant horns looking more awkward than menacing. “I truly do not wish to harm anyone! I want only to live here in peace.”
“You shouldn’t be mean to him,” Kukiel added, glaring at Fi. “He’s really nice, just like he says! What’s wrong with wanting to be human? I want to be human too!” She tapped herself stoutly on the chest with one little fist. “Just ’cause he looks scary doesn’t mean he’s nasty.”
Link nodded, slowly. “I believe you, Batreaux,” he said, and Kukiel brightened instantly, giving him a wide smile. “I don’t think you mean any harm.” He ran a hand through his hair, flyaway and loose after the bath earlier. “I need to take Kukiel home, though. Her parents were really worried about her. They must be frantic now.”
“Oh, dear; I am so sorry,” Batreaux apologised, wringing his hands. “I know I should have sent her home hours ago, but you see, when dear Kukiel came to visit me today, we were having such a nice time, we didn’t notice it was getting dark. I couldn’t risk letting her go out on her own, it could be far too dangerous, so I told her she could stay here and keep playing until morning.”
Kukiel nodded vigorously. “He’s scared for me just like my parents. They don’t let me go out at night either. So I’ll go home and see them in the morning.”
“I’ll take you back,” Link insisted gently. “You don’t know how worried they are. Your mum thinks something terrible has happened to you. Please?”
Batreaux shifted, reluctant. “I would love to have you stay here, Kukiel… but oh, I don’t wish to cause your parents any anguish. Perhaps you should go back with him.” He cast Link another pleading look. “You will be able to protect her, won’t you? It can be dangerous at night.”
Link nodded, gesturing over his shoulder at the shining sword as he stood, though Fi’s emotionless blank gaze felt almost disapproving. “I’ll protect her, I promise.”
“You can come back here tomorrow,” Batreaux added hopefully to Kukiel, and she frowned, then nodded.
“Well, okay, then.” Kukiel grumbled mulishly. She brightened up a few moments later. “And I suppose this way I get to go out at night without anyone telling me off!”
Oh dear… Link met Batreaux’s yellow eyes, and realised the demon was thinking the very same thing.
“Only while you’re with me, Kukiel,” he warned her.
“I know, I know.” Kukiel hopped off the oversized stool and looked up at Batreaux. “I promise I’ll come back and play tomorrow, Mister Bats!” She opened her arms wide, and the demon knelt in time to receive an enthusiastic hug, one that he returned with delicate care. Fi returned to the sword with a faint flash of light, but Link could still sense her conviction that the scene before him was wrong.
He’d get Kukiel home, he resolved. He could only hope that he’d be able to figure out what to do after that.
As Kukiel finally let go of her strange friend and crossed to Link’s side, Batreaux spoke up again.
“Please do be careful out there. You have such a generous heart, I hope we can be friends as well, and I would be distraught if anything were to happen to you. And do give Kukiel’s dear parents my warmest regards.”
“I, uh, I will.” What am I going to say to them? He supposed he’d have to figure that out, too. “I’ll… try and come back here when I can.”
Batreaux clasped his hands in gratitude so intense it sparked another stab of pity. “Oh, thank you! I would dearly love to see you again as well. My goodness, I might have two human friends! Isn’t this delightful!”
As Link took hold of the door – still standing open from his panicked entry – to shut it behind them, Kukiel turned to wave, and despite his misgivings, he waved too. Batreaux waved back, his grotesque face contorted into a smile.
It really did seem as if the demon was simply lonely.
Notes:
So I hope that I’ve succeeded in really impressing the level of fear drawing us into all this, and the eeriness and terror of the descent! The game absolutely fails to sell it several times and then falls flat at the end for me: I run to Kukiel first to check she’s okay; Kukiel asks why I look so scared; I determine from this that Bats is clearly a good guy, and am then left awkwardly stuck by the game as you can’t talk to him and nothing proceeds until you take a swing. It would have worked better to just have the whole run in and strike thing as a single cutscene. Using the bed mechanic works poorly as well: we’re so desperate to find her that we’re going to take a little nap? I see why they have to, since that’s the only day/night mechanic the game’s got, but interacting with the gravestone with a “wait” option to hang around until the sun had set would be more in-character, assuming that it stuck to the “must be night-time” requirement.
However, having spent a few years living across the road from a young childrens’ school, I absolutely believe that Link can’t tell the difference between a child shrieking in play and a child shrieking because something horrible has happened. Some days it really sounded like a bunch of kids were being murdered out there!
Patch Notes:
- Aura of fear and menace added.
- Kukiel now reacts to her surroundings.
- Long-term treasure hunt mechanic replaced with long-term problem.
- Batreaux’s presence in the sky above the demon-proof cloud shield explained.
- Variety added to Batreaux’s paintings, reflecting his desires.
Like everything else in this story, this is all Hylia’s fault. Batreaux was having a fine time chilling, doing his little sky spirit job, and then suddenly someone came along and put a floor under his sky, and there were no giant flocks of migratory birds and bats and other high-flying things any more. Can you really blame him for drifting slowly into caring for the people of Skyloft instead? (See Out of Time and/or A Hunger to Swallow the World for more on how gods, greater and lesser alike, can Fall…)
Chapter 21: Gratitude
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link had half escorted, half shepherded Kukiel back from the strange hovel beneath the island, climbing below her on the long ladder that she shot up without any apparent concern. She watched to make sure he shut the trapdoor before the two of them scrambled over the coffins, Kukiel slipping through the narrow space atop the stack easily, waiting at the doorway of the shed for him to join her.
Link peered out into the graveyard, seeing nothing but the pale and ghostly outlines of the gravestones, faintly reflecting moonlight, starlight, and his own light back to him in the dark of the night.
“Stay close, Kukiel,” he told her softly, offering his right hand to her as he stepped out of the shed. Kukiel took it, her fingers small in his, and Link shut the door quietly behind them before drawing the Goddess Sword. If something attacked while he was protecting her, he couldn’t afford to spend even a moment snatching it from its sheath.
The little girl was uncharacteristically quiet as they stepped out under the spreading branches of the graveyard tree. Link glanced around again, his eyes flitting across the silent and still expanse of memorials.
“It looks safe,” he murmured, turning to lead her towards the path. Kukiel took two steps, then halted, tugging on his hand. Link looked back at her sharply, surprised, concerned, but nothing seemed obviously wrong.
“Is your sword still listening?” Kukiel asked. Link nodded.
“She’s always listening, I think,” he told her, and Kukiel looked at the sword, thinking for a moment.
“Sword-lady,” she asked, “Did you come from under the statue of the goddess?”
Link felt the faintest flicker of Fi’s attention.
“She did,” he said aloud. “Can we talk about it while we walk?”
Kukiel looked back over her shoulder at the base of the old tree. “But I want to ask her if she knows who that is.” She pointed with her free hand at an indistinct shape. “Not even Father Kaeber knew who it was. He just said he thought they must have been a servant of the goddess.”
“Wh-what?” Link’s heart seemed to skip a beat, and he came unresistingly as Kukiel pulled him towards a shape beneath the tree, near to its trunk, that didn’t match any of the others: a simple wooden marker like those Link had seen before when the burial had been carried out but a headstone not yet carved. As the light from his lantern fell upon it, it picked out a simple inscription, etched vertically into the wood: “An Unknown Servant of the Goddess”. A chill ran through him; he felt transfixed, unable to look away.
Kukiel, still looking at the grave marker, didn’t notice. “Headmaster Gaepora from the Academy found them under the statue. Father Kaeber said they were probably a warrior who served the goddess long ago. Knight Commander Eagus gave a speech about it.”
“That’s… that’s probably true…” Link struggled to sort through his feelings, his chest inexplicably tight. It was almost as if something was diverting his thoughts from the memory, refusing to touch on it directly. Here and now, in the eerie darkness of the night with a demon, however kind, lurking beneath Skyloft, with Kukiel to look after…
“Are you all right?”
Kukiel had turned to look up at him, her little face bright in the lantern’s glow, all the innocent confidence of childhood in her expression.
“I… yes, I’m fine, Kukiel.” Link managed a smile for her. “I’ll ask Fi about it later, okay? Let’s get you home first. We shouldn’t distract her while we might still have to fight. She’s got to watch out for us, after all.”
Kukiel considered that, and nodded. “Okay. But you have to promise to tell me what she says.” After a moment, she added, “And Father Kaeber, so he can get their name put on properly. Otherwise the real gravestone won’t have a name either, and that’d be sad. Everyone should have their name on their gravestone.”
“Everyone should,” Link agreed, ignoring the strange hollow sensation like a kick in the ribs. “I promise I’ll ask, and I’ll tell you and Father Kaeber what she says. But for now, let’s get you home.” He turned, and this time Kukiel didn’t resist as he led her away.
* * *
As they stepped down from the bridge and turned to the right, towards Kukiel’s home, light still shining behind its windows, Link breathed a sigh of relief. There had been no more keese, at least, but he’d swept Kukiel up in his arms and run from a scurry of evid rats, and taken several scratches from someone’s madly growling, hissing remlit as he grabbed the writhing animal, somehow managing to transfer one hand to the scruff of its neck and – feeling rather bad about it – to drop it over the side of the bridge steps to the riverbank below so that it would have to come around the long way to reach him again as he recaptured Kukiel’s hand and bolted with her across the bridge before it could.
As they passed the jetty and finally drew near her front door, Kukiel stuck close, her previous boldness about being out at night rather shaken by the reality of it. Link knocked twice, rapidly, before lifting the latch and ushering Kukiel in ahead of him as he stepped into the welcome light and warmth. Both Jakamar and Wryna froze for a moment, relief and joy filling their faces.
“Kukiel!” Wryna was the first to move, almost flinging herself across the room and to her knees to hug her daughter. Kukiel squeaked in surprise as she was caught up and squeezed, and Jakamar joined them a moment later, dropping to one knee to put one hand on Wryna’s shoulders and ruffle Kukiel’s up-tied hair with the other. Link shut the door quietly behind himself, careful to lower the latch into place gently, letting the family have their reunion.
“Mum…” Kukiel managed. “You’re squishing me!”
Wryna’s arms loosened a little, but she didn’t let go. “I’m sorry, my dear. Oh, I was so worried!” She looked up over her daughter’s shoulder, tears of joy sparkling in her eyes. “Oh, Link, thank you! Thank you ever so much! I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am to see her back safely. I can finally smile and laugh again!” She squeezed Kukiel tighter again, sitting back to scoop her onto her knee. “Thank you!”
“I’m glad I could help,” Link said, the family’s uncomplicated joy bringing a real smile to his face.
“And she was all right, just like I said she would be. Aren’t you, my girl?” Jakamar’s voice was flooded with relief, but Kukiel just nodded enthusiastically.
“Yep! I was playing with Mister Bats, and it got dark really fast and we didn’t realise, and he said I had to stay inside at night just like you do so I was going to stay with him, but then Link turned up and he was mad at poor Mister Bats but then he realised that everything was okay, but he said I had to come home anyway because you were worried and he brought me all the way back here even when we nearly got attacked by rats and a remlit bit him on the arm.” She paused, twisting to look up at her parents’ faces. “I… didn’t mean to make you sad.”
Jakamar and Wryna both paused for a moment, trying to parse their daughter’s rapid and rambling explanation, shorn of half its context.
“We’re just happy to know you’re safe,” Jakamar told her, and Wryna nodded. “But what’s this about a remlit, lad?”
“It’s nothing…” Link glanced at his bloodied left arm, bringing it out from behind his back. The scratches stung, but he knew they were shallow. “I just got scratched.”
“Nonsense!” Wryna said firmly. “You Knights are just like my sister, calling everything ‘nothing’ even when you’re sick as death. Now sit yourself down and let my husband take a look at you.”
Quietly appreciating their concern, Link looked about and found himself a chair, sitting down with a soft sigh. Jakamar stood to fetch a jug of water and a satchel that seemed to mostly contain bandages and a small jar of pinkish ointment, while Wryna bundled Kukiel off to a seat at the table, asking her whether she had eaten, if she was thirsty…
“I keep this on hand for when we’re on the job,” Jakamar explained, voluble in his relief as he pushed Link’s sleeve up, dampening a cloth and wiping the blood from his arm, exposing jagged parallel scratches and a somewhat deeper bite mark. “Can’t forget how easy it is to hurt yourself with so much loose wood and stone and hammers and nails just lying around. If you can at least wrap someone up before you send them off to the doctor, it helps set them right. But it doesn’t look like this is anything serious, like you said. Well, this should help speed it on a little, anyway. I’m sorry you got hurt looking out for our little girl.”
Link twitched slightly as the ointment went on, stinging at first, then thankfully fading. A few weeks ago, he might have said so, but compared to what Ghirahim or the stalfos had done to him, the little pain seemed barely worth his notice.
“That’s all right,” he said. “I’m just glad I could bring her back safely. Like she said, she’d been playing, and hadn’t noticed the time until it got dark.”
“And, er… who was it she said she was staying with? A Mr… Bats?”
“Batreaux,” Link told him as Jakamar wound a bandage around his arm, more to keep it clean than anything else. “He’s, uh… He’s a bit odd, but he seems like a good person.” The sword at his back seemed to pulse faintly with silent disagreement, and Link ignored it. Not now, Fi. He doesn’t mean any harm. We’ll talk about it later. “He asked me to send you his regards, and his apologies. He’d have sent her home if he’d realised it was starting to get dark.”
“Well, I can hardly fault him for wanting to keep our girl safe,” Jakamar allowed, and across the room Wryna turned to them and nodded.
“Yes, I’m very grateful! I’ll have to be sure to find and thank him for looking after her. Tell me, what does he do?”
“Uh… well, he paints. But he…”
“He looks scary!” Kukiel chimed in helpfully, having eaten most of the end of a loaf of bread. “But he’s really nice. He plays with me whenever I want! He doesn’t have many friends because everyone is too scared of him, but I’m his friend!”
Her parents looked slightly bemused, and Link forged onward.
“Batreaux used to be a sky spirit, but, uh, right now he… Well, he wants to be friends with people, but he’s sort of messed up. He looks like a monster, but as far as I can tell, he’s a good person despite it.”
“Oh my…” Wryna raised a hand to her lips. Kukiel watched her expectantly, and the air of the room seemed balanced on a fine edge. “…Well,” she went on firmly, after a long moment. “Like a monster or not, I will just have to meet him. Looks aren’t everything, after all. And I’m sure the goddess would never allow a spirit who meant us harm to reside here.”
“Yaaaay!” Kukiel cheered, grinning broadly. “I promised I’d see him again tomorrow, so you can come too! We can all play Screams!”
“Oh, no, no, we are not playing Screams. I can’t believe anyone puts up with you making that racket,” Wryna sighed, fondly.
“Mister Bats does! Mister Bats thinks it’s adorable, and he can even beat me at it! Nobody beats me at Screams except Mister Bats!”
“Does he now,” Wryna said, smiling, amused and resigned at once. “Oh dear. Well, anyone who would let you stay in their home after you’ve been shrieking your head off all day simply must be a good person.”
Kukiel giggled.
“That’s right,” Jakamar chipped in, coming up behind her, his satchel stowed away again. “Why, I’d stuff you in a building site, that’s what I’d do.” He ruffled his daughter’s hair, and she laughed again, the whole family smiling, and their warmth seemed to fill the room.
Notes:
Well, I’ve taken another load off the poor overworked headmaster’s shoulders by adding to Skyloft, as well as a capable mayor, an actual priesthood of the goddess! Not that they have anyone to pray to, but who’s telling? Kaeber is Gaepora's cousin, and yes, I used the same source for his name to remain in keeping with the game. Both are very probably descendants of Edmer, who some of you will remember from Out of Time.
Patch Notes:
- Returning Kukiel to her parents now occurs.
- Unresolved issue of how Wryna will thank Batreaux without freaking out that he's a demon now resolved.
- Skyloft priesthood introduced.
- Consequences of the past continue for all concerned.
In other news, over this week the Floor Owl wrote me a short little dark AU, which was awesome, and one thing led to another, and thus I posted a small set of fics yesterday. If you have ever wished for a brief and horrifying dark AU that explores “What if Hylia Fell and became a demon?” then look no more: you can find out in Kingdom of the Fallen!
Chapter 22: Reflections
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Kukiel’s parents had offered to let Link stay at their house overnight, but, his mind too full of all that had happened, wanting too urgently to talk to Fi, he’d thanked them and refused. He’d hurried back through the night, alert and wary, confident that he could run far more easily from anything that might have threatened him now that he no longer had Kukiel to pull along or carry, and indeed, nothing of note had stood in his way. Pipit had been on patrol outside – he took night duty more frequently than any of the other upperclassmen – and had been surprised and relieved to see him, but Link had brushed past him quickly, explaining only that he’d found the missing girl, that she was safe, and that he was tired. It was, at least, all true.
Link picked his way quiet as a ghost through the corridors, lit by the flickering light of his lantern and what small light filtered through the windows, listening to the not-quite-silence of the night: to the wind outside; the creaks and ticks of the old building settling; the muffled sound somewhere of someone briefly talking in their sleep and startling him. Reaching his door, he opened it thankfully and slipped inside, setting the sword down carefully across his chair, removing his boots, putting his shirt aside for cleaning and mending, and… hesitating.
Maybe he’d just sleep in his trousers.
He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands. It felt wonderfully soft; too much so to risk lying back on, stuffed with loftwing down. He’d be asleep in moments.
“Fi,” he breathed instead, “can I talk to you?”
The muted chime as much felt as heard sounded as Fi vaulted from the sword, seeming to hold her own light independent of the lantern as she hovered before him, only a pace or so from the bed.
“You are able to converse with me at all times, Master.”
“Yeah, well… only if you want to.” Fi said nothing, and Link continued after a moment. “I wanted to talk about Batreaux.” And… “You don’t like him, but… you thought he was telling the truth, right? That he doesn’t want to hurt anyone?”
“He did not have hostile intentions,” Fi confirmed. “That is immaterial, however. Batreaux has Fallen from his station, corrupting his being. As a demon, his very existence is inimical to life. For as long as such a being exists, it will corrupt all that is around it.”
Link swallowed. “But… he can’t help that.”
Fi bent at the waist, at the neck, leaning abruptly closer with her head on a level with Link’s. “Nevertheless, it is a fact, Master. By choosing to dwell beneath this island, Batreaux is bringing harm upon its residents.”
Link thought back to the strange, monstrous being below the island: to his fear, his uncomplicated delight, his evident loneliness. Other than his appearance, than his own admission that he was a demon, he seemed about as far from the evil of something like Ghirahim as it was possible to be. Fi’s blank gaze seemed to stare uncompromisingly into his soul, yet Link chose to meet it, staring back into the inhuman face so close to his own.
“I can’t hurt him, Fi. Not if he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He’s just lonely, and likes people. I know people who are much worse people than he seems to be.” He faced down her disapproval, determined. “What if we could find a way to help him stop being a demon? Then there wouldn’t be any more… inimical aura. He became a demon somehow, so there’s got to be a way to not be one, right?”
Fi drew back, her expression seeming particularly still, and Link felt that she was thinking, searching her vast knowledge.
“I do not recommend this course of action, Master.”
“But it’s possible, right?”
“Master Link, according to his own account Batreaux deviated from his purpose as a spirit and thus Fell due to his interest in humans. It is highly improbable that you would be able to reinstate him given this condition. Other avenues are equally improbable or even fatal to one or more participants.”
Link pressed his lips together briefly, an unconscious determined line. “One percent is still a chance, Fi. What if, after we’ve found Zelda, I try to ask Great Spirit Levias on his behalf? He said he was too scared to talk to him, so maybe there’s still something he could do to help.” He stood up, facing the intangible spirit who floated before him. “I’m scared to let there be a demon up here, Fi. Everything I saw on the surface… I never want anything like that to live up here. But you know he doesn’t mean any harm, and so do I. If I don’t try to help him just because of what he is, even though he seems like a good person, then I’d be evil too. That would be wrong.”
Fi gazed at him for a long moment, and something indefinable seemed to shift in her demeanour. She followed his reasoning, though she knew that she weighted its elements differently; that the wrongness of Batreaux the demon was a far greater factor in her decisions than in his. That the decision to do as she had been created to would have gone against her wielder’s moral code; that he would refuse the significantly simpler and more plausible option in favour of seeking a better solution, however implausible or dangerous…
“Very well, Master. I accept your decision. We will seek aid from greater spirits.”
Link smiled, relieved, grateful. “Thanks, Fi.” He sat down again, silently companionable for a few moments, and when he spoke again it was quietly, almost tentative. “…Why does it bother you so much that he has this aura? I mean, I know it’s a bad thing, but…?”
Fi wondered if her master had sensed elements of her analysis through their connection. Regardless, it was a simple enough question to answer. “I was created to be wielded by the chosen of the goddess for the express purpose of destroying corrupted spirits become demons, and as a secondary purpose more generally to protect the goddess’ people from evil. Thus, it is an element of my purpose to eliminate demons such as Batreaux, regardless of their intentions.”
Link thought for a short while, looking at her, looking almost concerned. She could sense his general intentions; the nature of his thoughts. Conflicted, concerned, not wanting to cause harm.
“It’s not going to hurt you, is it, helping me try to help him?” he finally ventured, surprising her.
“No, Master Link.” Fi searched through her knowledge as she spoke. His concern was unexpected, but worthy of approval. Perhaps her comprehensive database of human reactions and emotions would permit her to demonstrate that in a way that he would interpret correctly. “Although it is part of my purpose to destroy such things, I am designed to require a wielder. I am not capable of independent action; my purpose in this matter is to inform and aid you. Since you intend to attempt to remove the demon, albeit in an as yet indeterminate fashion, and since your moral code is one of the reasons that you are the wielder I was created for, I assent to your judgement in this situation.” Selecting an option, she chose to drift slightly closer, reducing the distance between them by a small amount.
Once again, Link smiled a little, though her statement seemed to have set his mind to more turmoil, rather than less. “Thanks, Fi. Tell me if I do something that you aren’t okay with, all right?”
Fi nodded, once, a brief and exact motion. “I will.”
Silence fell for a short while, and Link finally blew out the lantern and turned sideways, drawing his feet up onto the bed and pulling the blankets over himself. Fi considered this an improvement; she had detected his beginning to feel cold. As he lay back and she turned to return her projection to the sword, however, he spoke again.
“Fi…”
“Yes, Master Link?” she asked, turning back to him. He was looking at her, tired, open, almost tentative, maybe warm.
“You know… what Kukiel asked us, about… you know.”
Outwardly, Fi remained impassive. Inwardly, analysis processes raced, negotiating the edges of the faults in her programming.
“You don’t have to talk about it. I feel like you don’t want to… do you?”
“The information is not directly relevant, Master.”
“Yeah. Well… I… If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. But, if you do… you can. I’ll listen, I promise.” He sighed, turning his head to gaze up at the ceiling, eyes already half-closed in the darkness. “It makes me feel strange… and I don’t know why…”
Fi considered her options. The information was not directly relevant, as she had stated. It was as likely to hinder his progress at this stage as it was to assist him. Although it preyed upon his mind, the knowledge remained sealed at a level below the subconscious, a level that in normal situations a human would be unable to access. Considering all known elements of her creator’s plan and the instructions she had been given, Fi did not find herself able to conclude that it would necessarily remain so. If that were to be the case, it was more important that he receive the information in a controlled fashion and at a suitable time than at some unpredictable moment when the barriers of a mortal mind dropped unexpectedly. Thus, she concluded that she would have to explain to some degree.
Strangely, the conclusion did not exacerbate any of the pre-existing errors that it might have been expected to. It was meaningless to say such a thing without analysis, but Fi experienced an unusual moment of predicting the results prior to carrying one out: that it was a correct decision.
It was not, however, a correct decision at this moment.
“I recommend that you sleep, Master Link. You are significantly tired, and it will take a toll on your capacities tomorrow if you do not.”
Link smiled faintly, his eyes almost closed. “All right. Goodnight, Fi…”
“Goodnight, Master.”
As his eyes shut, she returned her projection to the sword.
Perhaps it would prove possible that Link would be able to assist her long-stalled error analysis. If they were able to reach the spirit maiden relatively swiftly, then she might also provide assistance, but Link’s presence, at least, was a certainty, whereas the plans and decisions of Goddess Hylia were only as yet probabilities, their future unknown.
Notes:
You know, I don’t think I have any explicit patch notes today? Everything here is based on patches I’ve already made. Wild.
They’re pretty sweet talking, though.
Chapter 23: Echoes
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The cold wind blew steadily into Link’s face as they flew, wide wings beneath him bearing them on. He scanned the clouds automatically, only half noting what he saw there, waiting for the impression of direction Fi gave him to resolve downwards – and until then, thinking. With nothing else to do as he flew, his mind kept circling back to that morning, and everything Fi had said.
He’d crossed the island again, heading for a northern platform: his loftwing had roosted near the graveyard overnight, and he had, perhaps, wanted to make sure that nothing bad was happening, after Kukiel had wanted to take her parents to see her strange and disturbing friend. He’d told Headmaster Gaepora everything as soon as he woke in the morning, and knew that by now the Knight Commander would not only know but have begun to spread word through all the knights stationed on the island, but even so.
Even so…
But Fi had detected nothing amiss, other than the fact of Batreaux’s existence, and since she was, despite her distaste, as sure as he’d been that the demon was telling the truth about his intentions, Link had felt reassured, turning to depart with a lighter heart. He’d glanced back, once, and as he had Fi had emerged unexpectedly in his line of sight, looking at him impassively with her strange blank eyes in her sculptedly perfect face.
“Master. You enquired about the body found in the Chamber of the Sword.”
“Yes,” he’d said quietly, turning and walking back to her. She was floating at a slight angle, more facing him than not, and he stopped more or less in front of her, still able to see past the drape of her arm the little marker beneath the tree that stood in place of a gravestone until one was carved. He hadn’t thought she wanted to talk about it, and if she’d decided to…
“It was that of my previous wielder.”
She said the words so calmly, and yet they had dropped into Link’s heart like a stone, with what seemed almost a sense of inevitability. How could it have been anything else? Fi had kept speaking as he gazed past her, remembering again the strangeness of the chamber in the dark of the night, the horror that had transfixed him, caught the breath in his throat. With an effort, he’d pulled his attention from it to focus on listening to her, to look at her face as she spoke. This was important to her – how could it not be?
“As your graduation ceremony recalled, the goddess once chose a hero to aid her in saving her people,” Fi related. “He was able to delay, but not halt, the demons in their advance. Although he was mortally wounded in the battle, his actions, together with those of the people he led, weakened them significantly, which permitted the goddess to seal the great evil below. She returned him to the island upon which the statue stands, where he replaced the sword before succumbing to his injuries.”
“Fi, I…” Link had cast about for words, found almost none. How many generations had she been down there alone with the body of someone who had to have been her friend and ally, no doubt far closer to her than he was? “I’m so sorry.”
He’d felt Fi’s attention refocus abruptly onto him, though he saw no visible change in her expression, in her blank eyes. Young and ancient at once, her face had been, as always, unreadable.
“I’ll tell Father Kaeber,” he’d said, after a short space of silence. “Someone should know… everyone should know.”
Fi had said nothing for a long, long moment, long enough that he had almost worried he had said something wrong, then spoken at last, her tone unchanged.
“You should not delay your departure, Master Link.”
“You’re right…” He’d wanted to be away, only come here to reassure himself all was, at least, safe enough on Skyloft before setting out again in search of Zelda. He’d already lost the first hour of the morning crossing Skyloft, already lost – though he couldn’t begrudge it – the last hours of light the day before searching for Kukiel. And yet… even though Fi encouraged him to, he couldn’t just leave all that was left of her former friend unremembered. An idea had struck; he’d paused. “I’ll write him a note.”
Fi had said nothing, observing impassively as Link extracted his battered notebook, twisted the cap from his pen and the ink reservoir open, and wrote, hastily and at a bit of a slant, everything Fi had just told him onto a back page. Ripping it out – several of the other back pages had already suffered the same fate, stripped for messages – he’d folded it and written Father Kaeber’s name on the outside.
She’d only returned to the sword as he’d left the graveyard, finding the first person he could who didn’t seem in the middle of something too important and asking them to pass it on, with a couple of rupees for the trouble. As his impromptu messenger dashed off, wishing him luck, he’d turned back to find the nearest platform, the red loftwing already soaring below the island, impatient to fly.
They’d left, and flown, other islands passing them by, the occasional other rider offering a wave or a dip of their bird’s wing, following the subtle and silent guidance Fi had given him, and most of the way, his thoughts had been circling between concern and hope for Zelda, and sympathy for Fi and her long-lost wielder, half-remembered and yet his fate somehow lost in the mists of time.
As they soared over the edge of the Shadow Sea, a strange dark stain on the clouds below that seemed almost always present, borne up on the thermals that filled the region, Link leant forward sharply, his thoughts forgotten as he shaded his eyes to peer ahead. There – was that… smoke, rising in a thin and wispy trail from far below? His loftwing, feeling his curiosity, felt it too: the pair surged forward, great wings beating harder in steady rhythm.
“Fi, can you see that? It looks like it’s coming from the clouds!”
Fi appeared beside him, facing the same direction, poised as if gliding through the air and keeping pace effortlessly with her flawless grace.
“I perceive it, Master. I predict with 99% certainty that it marks the gap in the cloud barrier that you have opened. Hot air from below, laden with volcanic ash, will rise rapidly through such an opening.”
Link remembered what she had said about the hazards of the journey. He’d been given a talisman – now securely fastened around his arm, under his sleeve – to protect him against a forge’s heat, but no-one had been able to come up with anything to prevent poisoned air from killing him if he breathed it. “Will you be able to tell if it’s safe?”
“Once we are within a short distance of it, yes.”
“Good. Thanks, Fi.”
Link looked back to the plume of ash as Fi returned to the sword. Despite everything, it was still almost exciting. A gateway to the still-mythical surface, where a mythical volcano lurked… a place full of danger, and demonic monstrosities, and the terrifying Ghirahim; a place where he had seen a tree the size of an island; a place where strange but kind people had helped him, aided him, welcomed him among them. What would he see here? What would it be like? Would Zelda be there – would she be safe? Could he finally find her?
His loftwing’s curiosity was more uncomplicated, more direct: the ash plume looked, to both the bird and to Link, like the smoke of a fire, and if there was a fire then the bird would expect one or more humans to be sitting at it, and so he anticipated hopefully that their missing flockmate might be below the plume in the strange sky-under-sky he had entered so briefly. The undercurrent on the edge of Link’s mind boosted his confidence and his hope, miles drifting by beneath the red loftwing’s powerful wings.
As they swept low near the base of the plume, Fi spoke again, this time in Link’s mind alone.
I can now confirm that the plume is safe, Master, although I recommend avoiding breathing the particles contained within it as much as possible. As I predicted, the opening in the clouds is located at its base.
Link nodded, tugging the scarf he’d brought along up over his nose and mouth and tying it securely behind his head. “All right, then. Let’s go.”
Knowing what he was doing somewhat better and with so clear a sign to guide him, he steered his loftwing around the side of the ash cloud, not wanting to risk him flying into it. The bird squawked his anxiety – even if Link had survived the last time, he did not trust the cloud layer below, or at all like the enforced separation – but the drive to find their flockmate and Link’s soothing won out as he dipped a wing, arcing in a graceful left turn that left Link clear to dive from his back. He angled himself sideways as he fell through the air, falling from one current of wind to another, able to see each one coming by the twisting of the plume he fell beside. The opening in the clouds was invisible, covered by the stain of the ash billowing up past him; as the clouds grew nearer and nearer still, Link tilted his body again, side-slipping into the plume.
Grit coated his face, and a strange dusty warm smell, and his flight goggles were instantly speckled with ash. Link trusted to Fi’s guidance as he fell half-blind through the clouds, her calm voice reciting the information into his mind.
You are off-centre but within tolerances, Master Link. On this course, the edge of the cloud barrier will pass approximately 2.7 metres to your right at its nearest point. She paused. You are now below the cloud barrier, Master. You will be clear of the ash cloud and free to utilise your sailcloth shortly.
Moments later, her words proved true. The dark, almost black air in front of Link gave way to a red glow, dull and ominous, and for a moment the strange horror of before rose in him, weaker but not yet banished, as he fell into what looked like a world on fire – and then he was through, what seemed to be rivers of orange-red spilling down the side of a vast mountain, the air ever hotter as he descended, whipping up past him in thermals of unbelievable strength. Link released the sailcloth, his arms locked into the straps and gripping them tight, and it snapped open with enough force to hurt, leaving him drifting down gently as a feather. The darker patch below him spread, expanded, looking blessedly flat as all around the rock proved to be towering spires and smaller peaks, and when he finally hit the ground beside, wonder of wonders, a red-leafed and sickly-looking tree, Link tugged the sailcloth off himself and simply stood for a moment, taking it all in.
Fi appeared beside him not long after.
“Master, this is the foot of Eldin Volcano. As I predicted, it is clearly highly active. The protection that you currently possess will be insufficient to shield you from the heat of the molten rock. Additionally, many creatures live here utilising the powerful magic in the area, and possess adaptations that suit them to the extreme conditions. I detect a strong demonic presence in the area, from which I conclude that many of these creatures will have been corrupted by its influence, and thus inordinately hostile to you. From my observations during our descent, it appears that more than 60% of the otherwise traversable terrain is currently covered in lava. You will need to exercise extreme caution, and be careful with any flammable objects.”
“Right…” Link said quietly, still gazing up at the volcano. He’d thought the island-sized tree was huge, but this…?
Notes:
Don’t forget you can follow my status updates on Fandom.Ink (Mastodon) if you want to find out whether or not I’ve succeeded at the weekly chapter! Mostly because I personally find waiting for chapters to maybe-post or maybe-not on their scheduled day without knowing how long to wait to be annoying, so I won’t inflict it on you guys.
Patch Notes
- Plot threads continue from the backstory.
- Sword of the Chosen's presence on island despite confirmation of previous Chosen's descent by parachute reconciled.
- Link continues to actually inform people of things relevant to the safety of the islands.
- Volcano hazards updated.
- Link now possesses standard flight gear.
- Loftwing still relevant.
We don’t see Fi’s perspective this chapter for the simple reason that anything I write would be too cack-handed when parts of her perspective need to be sketched ever so faintly with a paintbrush no more than a micron thick.
However, if you're just too curious to find out a bit more about what she was talking about, it's all in the last few chapters of Out of Time…
Chapter 24: Death Mountain
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Finally tearing his gaze from the volcano that loomed over him, spilling thick, dark smoke across the sky, Link knelt to fold his sailcloth. No amount of care could make it any less filthy from his fall through the ash and from the ashen ground on which he had landed, and when he wiped his hands across his trousers he left a new pair of dark, gritty streaks behind.
“Fi,” he asked, the air still hot and strange even filtered through his scarf, “can you sense Zelda?”
The sword spirit seemed to concentrate, silent for a long moment before she responded. “There is no direct trace of her in this immediate location, Master. However, I detect a fading aura that I estimate to be hers with approximately 80% confidence. In order to reach it, you must traverse the base of the volcano in a southeasterly direction. However, I predict a 95% probability that she will have attempted to ascend Eldin Volcano in search of the Earth Spring, following the instructions found at Skyview Spring. I therefore recommend that you travel directly eastward, increasing your probability of intersecting her path at a point closer to her current location.”
Link nodded; that made sense. “Thanks, Fi.” A moment later, he frowned. “How come you can sense her aura but not her path?”
“A pertinent question, Master Link,” Fi replied. Link searched her blank eyes for any hint of the approval – or disapproval – he couldn’t find in her melodic, emotionless voice. “The signature that I detect is of increased strength compared to the traces of her aura that we previously encountered in every location save Skyview Spring. It is likely to have been created by the spirit maiden’s use of magics innate to her while she was in that location. However, since she is not currently directly using the power, the traces she has subsequently left are significantly fainter, and cannot be detected at this range.”
Link nodded again, slowly. “I see, I think.” He hesitated for a moment. “Do you have any idea what kind of magic she was doing?” She’d always been better at it than he had, but…
“I cannot determine that at this range, Master. However, I am able to estimate a probable time frame. I establish a probability of 85% that the magic was cast this morning, between three and four hours prior to this moment.”
Renewed hope lit Link’s eyes. “Then we’re not that far behind her!” Determination followed, hot on its heels. “We’ve got to catch up. Lead the way, Fi.”
“Of course, Master.”
As the spirit returned to the sword, Link felt the unerring sense of direction she gave him impinge on his awareness, leading him directly across the foot of the volcano. Until they reached Zelda’s trail, he would have to find his own path, but he was resolved to find her. Not even the rivers of molten rock would hold him back.
* * *
Making his way carefully down a steep slope scattered with jagged stones, Link eyed the river of lava ahead with increasing concern. The area he’d landed in had been cut off from the others by a lava flow branching around it, and there seemed to be no way to continue save to cross it, or to go ever further out of his way downhill – southwards – and hope to finally reach wherever it ended.
If he wanted to reach Zelda, he was going to have to cross it.
“Fi,” he murmured into his scarf, “how close do you think I can get to that stuff?”
The answer sounded in his mind, crystal clear as always. Although the current wind strength is both decreasing the air temperature and rendering it safer, the molten rock is still extremely hazardous. Despite your minor heat protection, it is inadvisable to remain in close proximity to it for extended periods of time, as your temperature will rise rapidly. You should not approach it for periods of longer than a small number of seconds at a time.
“Right…” So I can get close. Link wiped at the faint haze that kept building up on his flight goggles, which smeared it into streaks about as much as it helped. The lava ahead of him was an ominous red, thick chunks of crusty dark rock floating atop it as it oozed past with a strange, gurgling, cracking sound.
Could he…?
“Fi, is that solid enough to stand on?”
Under these conditions and with your current protection, it is possible for you to move upon the congealed rock without suffering serious harm as long as you remain in motion. However, standing atop the crust of lava is not recommended, Master.
A momentary smile flickered beneath his scarf before his expression set back into lines of determination.
“It looks like it’s the only way over.”
Unfortunately, you are correct, the sword spirit replied after a moment. My analysis indicates that this is the narrowest portion of the lava channel for some distance. She paused for a single heartbeat. I calculate that there is a 70% probability of you successfully reaching the other side. However, I cannot assist you if you are critically injured in the attempt.
“I know, Fi,” Link said, his voice softening. She hadn’t said so, and he hadn’t asked, but he was fairly sure she was as intangible as when she’d passed through the Academy doors. If he fell out on the lava, she wouldn’t so much as be able to drag him to safety. “But I’ve got to take the risk.”
Affirmative, Master.
She said nothing more, and Link stepped closer, one hand outstretched. Even with the warm, ash-laden breeze that Fi said was helping, he could feel a furnace heat beyond anything he’d ever encountered before as he came within a mere few paces of the lava. If he stayed in it long enough, it would definitely burn him.
Backing off several steps into air that suddenly seemed almost cool, he resolved that he’d just have to move fast enough that wouldn’t be a problem. Eyeing the chunks of crusted rock moving sluggishly with the lava, he set his stance, dropping his right leg back – then, taking a last deep breath, ran into the heat and leapt.
It struck him with all the force of a hammer-blow, like he imagined the molten metal at the heart of a forge; he was instantly sweating despite his protection, heat radiating up through his boots as he landed, the rock swaying beneath him horribly and an awful sinking moment in the back of his throat the realisation that if it was floating it might sink – he kept running, momentum and determination carrying him on; leapt again as the rock tipped slightly, sluggishly behind him; landed with every step seeming to bring his feet closer to burning and kept running, launching himself across the final narrow gap almost through a curtain of heat and landing again, staggering, in the ash and jagged raw stone of the far bank, dashing up it as fast as he could and finally stopping, gasping for breath through the muffling scarf, in the hot volcanic air that suddenly seemed blissfully cool in comparison.
He’d done it.
“We made it, Fi!”
Fi said nothing, but he felt a sense of acknowledgement. It was enough. Link paused to take the water bottle from his belt, lifting his scarf just enough to drink from it, surprised briefly by the strange and gritty taste and yet almost ignoring it in the uncomplicated sensation of drinking. He allowed himself two sips before sealing the bottle again, fastening it back in its place and setting out across the rocky, inhospitable landscape. A ridge in the rock became a defile that led around a rock spire and out of sight: it was headed in the right direction, and Link opted to follow it, climbing the steep slope before him.
As he rounded the spire and it gave way to a more gradual descent, the ground trembled briefly beneath his feet. He stopped, startled, looking around – then it fractured in front of him, and as he took a step back, two strange furry creatures almost his own size emerged from the barren ground!
“Hey! Hey! HEY!” one of them shouted, squinting at him with suspicious beady eyes that peered from a black band across its face. It sounded aggressive, but its voice trembled, which would have ruined the effect if Link hadn’t been so shocked by their appearance. “Y-you mess with our turf, and you’re gonna…” The creature trailed off, squinting harder, finishing on a much quieter note: “pay?”
The other one had been staring uninterruptedly, and finally broke in. “Whoa, you’re not…” It turned its pointy-muzzled head to look at its companion. “Yo, Ledd, I don’t think this is one of those red creeps.”
“Y-yeah, I think you’re right.” The one called Ledd returned its attention to Link, relieved and aggrieved as its fear bled away. “No reason to scare the hair off us, though!”
“I’m sorry,” Link managed, trying to be polite even through his shock and bewilderment. More strange creatures like the kikwis, or Gorko the goron? “I didn’t even know you were here.”
“Sorry ’bout that, pal,” Ledd said, leaning forward a little as if to see him better, bracing himself with strong furry arms. Below his waist, the lower half of the strange creature was still completely immersed in the ground. “These monsters showing up and messing with our turf has got me on edge.”
“Monsters?” Red creeps, the other one had said – were there bokoblins here, too? He’d assumed there would be…
“Yeah, monsters.” Ledd folded his burly arms. “They show up here, and I’m gonna knock the red clean out of ’em. That’s what I’m doing here. Yeah, me, Ledd.”
Link’s sharp hearing caught the other one murmuring “Yeah, whatever, Mr. Too Scared to Dig in the Dark.” He repressed a smile beneath his scarf, politely ignoring it.
“Anyway,” Ledd went on, “if you’re looking for treasure, you should watch out. Stay clear of those red guys.”
Link nodded. “Thank you. I’ll do my best. But I’m actually looking for a friend of mine… not treasure.”
“Not treasure?” The creature leant forwards again, squinting at him more closely. Link stepped forward, hands by his sides, offering it a better view.
“Hmm… I guess that must have been your pal that passed by earlier, then!”
“You saw her?!” Something nagged at him, and a moment later, he placed it: if they’d seen her, wouldn’t Fi have been able to pick up her trail? Ledd was still talking, and he didn’t have time to ask.
“Yeah, just down there a way, sprinting by without so much as a glance in our direction! By the time we came up it was already past! It was sorta a blur of movement, so I didn’t get a real good look, but I know it wasn’t one of those red creeps, and there ain’t nothing around here but them and us.” Ledd twisted in the hole to point eastward, in almost the same direction that Fi’s subtle prompts were directing. “Your pal must have gone straight over that way, so we’ll let you go on and follow.”
“Thank you,” Link said again, heartfelt. “It won’t cause you any trouble, will it?” They seemed like guards, guards about as used to fighting real foes as he was.
“Not if you’re only looking for your friend,” the other one chipped in. “This is our territory where we search for riches. We mogmas are what you might call treasure hunters, and this volcano is a good and rich spot. There’s so much around here, I guess even if you do find something good it’s fine to just go ahead and take it, since you’re here and all. Everywhere we dig, there’s rupee crystals, even gold and silver ones sometimes. Good ores, too. You can make a lot of stuff with the rock around here, if you got the time.”
Link nodded. “Thanks, er…”
“Cobal.” The mogma – this one with the tuft of fur on its head tied up in a brush, and the dark stripe across its face not quite meeting in the middle – twitched its nose and smiled at Link, a rather uncanny expression on such a long muzzle.
“Thanks, Cobal, Ledd.” Link glanced past them, worried. Something that wasn’t a bokoblin, and all too probably wasn’t Zelda, had gone past rapidly, heading in the same direction he was. Maybe it had been the Sheikah, getting here ahead of him; he’d told them what there was to know that strange morning in their camp, reassured by Fi’s certainty that they were allies. Or maybe it had been Ghirahim, the demon lord here ahead of him and Zelda in terrible danger. “I’ve got to hurry – I’m worried about my friend. But thanks again for letting me into your territory.”
It was Ledd’s turn to give him a toothy grin. “You’re not one of those red creeps, and you’re real polite, so you’re welcome any time, pal. Maybe we’ll see you around.” He gestured past himself, and Link obediently walked on by, calling a farewell back to them.
He could hear them starting to bicker gently about Ledd’s bravery, or lack thereof, as he descended the shallow slope and left them behind.
“Fi,” he murmured as soon as he was out of earshot, “can you sense Zelda anywhere near here?”
No, Master, Fi replied. The probability that the being the mogmas saw was Zelda is less than 1%.
Then there was only his worry. “You don’t think it could be Ghirahim, could you?”
I do not detect Ghirahim’s aura in the immediate vicinity. However, there is a demonic aura pervading this region. This is likely due to the presence of bokoblins, as implied by Ledd and Cobal.
Link breathed a sigh of relief into his scarf. At least, dangerous though they were, bokoblins weren’t Ghirahim.
“Any idea who it was they saw, then?”
He felt the sense of negation, as if Fi would have shaken her head slightly. No, Master Link. The individual has left no traces which I can detect.
“Okay.” Link paused, clambering carefully over tumbled, sharp-edged rock and jumping down on the other side. “…Do you know much about those… mogmas?”
I do, Fi confirmed. Mogmas are a subterranean species: they primarily live underground. Their eyesight is notably poor, and they navigate by sound, scent, and sensing subtle vibrations and temperature changes in the ground through which they dig. They were the favoured species of the goddess Mirnale, before that goddess’ death, and lived in a mountainous realm to the north. It is unusual to see mogmas this far south, away from their ancestral homes. However, it is probable that they migrated slowly in search of a safer environment following the slaying of their goddess, and have settled here.
Slaying a goddess… Link swallowed, his mouth dry and gritty. “What happened?”
When the demons first rose, Fi explained calmly, many great spirits fell to them and were consumed. It began to appear as though an apocalypse would fall upon the land. Goddess Mirnale was among those who fell in the years before the goddess Hylia was able to set forth the task of defeating it.
What could Link say to that? The phrasing Fi had used when they met, ‘eradicating the shadow of apocalypse from the world’ suddenly sounded a lot more real.
“I’m glad they made it,” he said eventually.
Their survival is most probably due to their habit of dwelling underground, in narrow tunnels. It may be that this caused the demons to overlook many of them in their initial conquest. Fi paused for a moment, seeming to think. However, these mogmas do not appear to have emerged unscathed. There is evidence of significant deterioration in their physiology. Although outwardly these particular individuals appear hale, they are not fully healthy. Their lifespans are significantly shortened, and I calculate a 95% probability that their condition will continue to deteriorate further with each generation.
“That’s awful… What did the demons do to them?”
The damage is not recent, and is hereditary, Master. At this juncture, I cannot determine its cause without further information.
There probably wasn’t anything he could do. All the same… “If you learn anything else, tell me, okay?” Maybe something can help them. Fi knows so much, maybe we can figure something out.
Affirmative, Master, was all she said.
For the moment, all that Link could do was set the mogmas to the back of his mind and press on.
Notes:
Oh man, only a few hours late… Sorry!
I did accidentally spend two hours reading all about a bunch of different volcanoes, volcano types, lava types, hazards, and two dudes who fell in lava and came out alive if badly burnt. So there’s that?
Patch Notes:
- Disappearance of mogmas from all later games given backstory-connected reason. Which may not be the one you think it is…
- Fi’s aura-detection now works to determine whether Zelda has recently been in a place, removing one source of uncertainty.
- Link now takes what precautions he can while also being ludicrously daring out of necessity.
Chapter 25: Alternate Routes
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link gazed dubiously at the smaller peak before him, a silent mirror in miniature of the gigantic mountain on whose side he stood. A crack in one side yawned open, dark and imposing, and long-congealed rock coated its sides, maybe formed its sides. Lava parted around it, flowing sluggishly from above to split into two streams, fanning out from each other as they descended. Link had crossed one of those lava rivers on the advice of another mogma, who – after determining to his own satisfaction that Link wasn’t ugly enough to be a “red creep” – had taught him about the deadly flowers that grew on the mountainside. Fi had explained it, more or less: that the plants absorbed explosive materials from the volcanic soil and concentrated them as a means of defence against predators, and Link could certainly agree that nothing would ever try to eat a “bomb flower” twice. On the mogma’s, Kortz’s, advice, he’d risked picking one and hastily tossing it at the base of an unstable-looking boulder, bringing it – and a cascade of others that had piled up behind it – down into the lava. The crude bridge hadn’t lasted long, but it had been enough protection for Link to get across.
And he’d had to get across, because Fi had finally sensed Zelda’s signature on the other side – not the spell or whatever it had been that she’d first sensed, but actual traces of her passage. They were right on her trail, and getting closer… if only they could catch up.
“She definitely went… in there?” Link’s voice was harsh and dry. His throat felt like sandpaper, and he was rationing his water before he ran out altogether.
Floating beside him, Fi inclined her head in a graceful nod, unperturbed by the heat or the gritty, foul-tasting air. “Yes, Master. The traces of her aura lead directly downwards within the cone. I calculate a 75% probability that she entered in the hope of using the subterranean passages which once fed it to bypass the lava blocking her path.”
“Fed it?”
“Analysis of its structure confirms that this is a flank vent, Master. Cones such as this one form when magma from the magma chamber beneath the volcano has found an alternate route to the surface. It appears that this cone is dormant. A visual analysis of the erosion of the surface rock and biological growths upon it such as the lichens indicates that it has not erupted for at least two decades. Considering the current activity of Eldin Volcano, I predict that the passage through which magma entered this cone is currently blocked.” She turned in her hover to face him, impassive. “The dangers of entering are still significant, Master. It is extremely difficult to accurately predict volcanic activity. I cannot confirm your safety in this region.”
Link gave a slow, uncomfortable shrug, resigning himself to the choice he was about to make. “Zelda’s down there… and she doesn’t have you to help her.”
Fi nodded, once. It probably wasn’t any different to any of her other motions of assent, but Link still interpreted it as gravely. He certainly felt that way.
He did not want to clamber into the darkness of the lower peak. He definitely did not want to descend into the bowels of the volcano, ever closer to the “magma chamber” Fi had mentioned. But whatever was driving her, his friend was down there. He had to go.
He took a hasty sip of warm, ash-tasting water, and started walking.
* * *
Link was about halfway up the small cone, looking wearily at the steep, rocky climb that was his final ascent to the crack in its side, when a voice called out from behind him.
“Chosen One!”
He spun around with a gasp, registering the words half a heartbeat behind the sound that meant someone or something was behind him. Further downslope, off the small cone and on the side of the volcano proper, a shadowy shape waved at him. Deep red-brown against dark red-brown rock, if they hadn’t been moving then he might not have seen them at all through his smeared, streaked flight goggles. Link hunted about for a name, found it.
“Davar?”
The Sheikah hastened towards him, another, shorter shape following behind. Link waited, letting them come to him. As before, they were all but masked, only their eyes visible behind carefully wound cloth, and he realised as they stopped before him that they were both out of breath.
“We are grateful you waited,” Davar told him. “We saw the spirit of the sword beside you, there,” and he gestured back to the rock Link had been standing on to look at the peak, “and hurried to catch up. We feared we would miss your passage.”
Link smiled faintly beneath his scarf. They might still be all but strangers, but they were unquestionably allies, and kind with it. “I’m glad to see you.” The dryness of his throat made his voice rasp uncomfortably, and he glanced back and up to the last several metres’ climb ahead of him. “Fi says Zelda went in there, so we’re going after her.”
He was sure the expression that creased the bridge of Ireya’s nose was a grimace.
“Do you have protections against the volcano’s dangers, chosen one?” she asked.
“Some,” Link admitted. “Against the heat, at least.” He coughed, his parched throat complaining. “Sorry.”
“Then we may offer you this.” Davar sounded pleased, even almost grateful, glad to be of use as he took something from a pouch and held it out. Link accepted it gingerly, aware of how filthy he was, fingers staining everything he touched with ash and grime. The Goddess Sword was the only thing left that was still clean, incongruously unmarred by the scorched and blasted mountainside.
“It will protect you against the foul airs of the volcano,” Ireya explained. “Tie it snugly across your mouth and nose, and you will be safe from them. There are many such dangers in this place, some utterly invisible. You should not go unprotected.”
Link winced slightly, looking at the thing in his hands. A piece of shaped cloth tapering to long strings, it had complex patterns sewn into the sides, and bore the weeping-eye symbol the Sheikah all seemed to adorn themselves with stitched into it in a subtly different shade of rocky reddish-grey.
“Fi warned me, but I don’t have much –” he coughed again “– choice. Zelda’s in there right now, and she doesn’t have anything like this. Fi can tell me if I’m about to walk into bad air, so…” It wasn’t enough, and he knew it, and knew they knew it: the half-justifications of a student in over his head. But somehow Fi thought he was the only one who could do it, Fi said that the goddess had chosen him – and she would know – and even Headmaster Gaepora believed her utterly. He’d done all he could, as best he knew how.
“You are brave, chosen one,” Ireya said softly. “Brave and determined. We pray that your courage will stand through whatever trials lie ahead.”
It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, and he felt unexpectedly touched.
“Now, fasten the mask on,” she added, her tone reverting to instruction, and Link smiled a little beneath his scarf.
“Okay.”
He unwound the scarf from his face, taking a deep breath of ash-flecked air as it came off and coughing again, leaving the two Sheikah looking at him with what might have been concern. Link waved it away firmly but gratefully: he was fine. He turned the mask in his hands: sewn to fit the contours of a human face, it was fairly clear which way it should attach, and as he settled it in place the air he was breathing seemed to clear. He froze, the strings still in his hands just brushing his ears, and focused on a long, slow breath. It was still warm, there was no changing that, but the grit and dust and taste of ash – other than the grit and ash already in his mouth – had gone. It was almost pure.
“Is it aiding you?” Davar asked, and Link nodded.
“It’s incredible.” He moved again, tying the strings firmly in place at the back of his neck. Only on an island the size of Skyloft could you ever meet someone who might not have known how to tie a wide variety of complicated knots by the age of five. “Thank you, again.”
Davar’s eyes seemed to show a smile. “It is our role, chosen one.”
“You must take this, as well,” Ireya added, offering him her own water bottle. Link’s eyes widened, but she shook her head firmly before he could refuse. “Davar and I, we can leave this place instantly if we need to. You have seen this. You cannot, so you will need it far more than we. In this heat, you must be sure to drink enough.”
You sound like Henya. Link smiled, taking it. “All right. Thanks. But be careful. Don’t stay here if it would put you in danger.” He looped it onto his belt beside his own as he spoke, half by feel.
Ireya raised her eyebrows. “Life is danger, chosen one. We accept this.”
“It is our duty to face these dangers,” Davar added, with a certainty nothing could shake.
“Yeah, well… Be careful.” Link half-turned, looking back up to the crack and the shadows within. “Zelda went that way, and I know she’s going to be trying to find her way up past all this.” He waved a hand towards the nearest river of sluggish lava. “Do you know if this ‘vent’ comes out again anywhere else?”
“We do not, chosen one,” Davar admitted. “The volcano changes each day, each month. It is a dangerous place.”
Yeah… “Can you get across those rivers of lava?”
They both nodded, Ireya volunteering a soft “Of course.”
“Okay. Then… I’ve got to follow Zelda’s trail, or I’ll lose her. Can you two go ahead and see if you can find anywhere this might lead to? Or at least see if you can see any sign of her? If you need to come after me, I’ll leave marks so you can find me down there.”
“We can,” Ireya said, with a nod. “If you are certain that you will not need our aid below?”
Link smiled with a confidence he did not entirely feel. “I’ll be all right. I’ve got Fi.” He glanced upwards again, upwards and onwards. “Zelda’s on her own. I know you said before you had people out looking for her, but unless someone’s found her…”
Ireya and Davar shook their heads, the subtle motion almost in unison.
“Then I think that’s the best way you can help me right now. And – I know you’ll say you have to do this, but you don’t, and I – I’m really grateful. Thank you.”
The Sheikah smiled, visible at the edges of their eyes, and bowed to him, hands to their hearts.
“We will see you on the other side, chosen one. May the goddess’ blessings light your path.”
“Yours, too.”
Link watched for a few moments as the duo hurried back down the side of the small peak, taking another precious sip of his water, then turned back to the climb ahead. He would find her. He was gaining. There was so much he wanted, needed, to ask them; to ask Fi – but there would be time for all of that later. He’d already taken far too long, lost the previous evening: he could have been here ahead of her, though he and Fi might not have known that, if he’d only been able to descend the night before. He wouldn’t have been ready until it was already growing dark, he knew it, with how long it had taken even the Knight Commander to find everything he needed; he’d never have made the flight in daylight even if he hadn’t been searching for Kukiel, and yet, even so…
What was done, was done. Link hauled himself up another step, reaching for a further handhold, the rock sharp and jagged under his grimy fingers. The crack was so near: little more than a couple of times his own height away. At this point, whatever impossibilities or horrors lay beyond it didn’t matter, his mind numbed to the looming unknown by all he’d already faced. Whatever was down there, he’d get through it or he would not – and since he had to get through it, he resolutely refused to consider what would happen if he didn’t.
Scrambling into the crack, Link breathed a sigh of relief through the blissfully clean air of the Sheikah mask, balancing for a moment between its rocky edges before bracing himself between them and edging on: it had no floor, but tapered to a jagged point, making climbing through it awkward, but not too difficult. Dulled, shadowy daylight filtered down ahead, showing him a wide cylindrical cavity, and as he came to the crack’s other end, he leant forward and looked… down.
Down, and down, into some sort of cavern far below, below the base of the cone he’d climbed up; a cavern somewhere in the volcano. As he looked into the gloom, he felt his chest tighten, a dull echo of the dread he’d felt as he stood, frozen, atop the Goddess Statue’s stone hands; the dread he’d felt falling through the clouds for the first time into the open pit with its caged evil. Teeth clenched, determined, he fought it back, leaning forwards still further to try and plan out a route down.
Was there a route down?
“Fi,” he murmured, almost whispering, jaw tight, “do you think I can use my sailcloth in here?”
Fi seemed to consider for a moment, and he got the sense that she was analysing everything he could see and then some in rapid detail.
Yes. However, the margin for error will be minimal. You must be sure to leap into the middle of the shaft before releasing the sailcloth.
“Or it’ll hit the sides…”
Fi said nothing. There wasn’t a better option. Link turned sideways inside the crack, braced his feet against one wall and his back against the other to extract the sailcloth from its pouch. He was suddenly very glad that he’d taken the time to fold it properly after he landed.
“I’m coming, Zelda…” he whispered.
Notes:
I hope everyone who has a holiday at this time of year is enjoying their holiday! And anyone who doesn’t enjoys whatever holiday they have coming up next!
This time: Ardil reads about BASE jumping and learns that the lowest you can get away with opening a parachute can be as low as ~30 metres, which means (especially with magic) that it actually is viable to try skydiving down this volcanic hole. I mean, apart from the whole volcanic hole bit.
Patch Notes:
- Sheikah still exist in numbers greater than 1.
- Necessary protection not plausibly providable from Skyloft provided elsewhere.
- Concerns about delay moved from person with no suitable justification for having them to person with actual reasons to have them.
I almost certainly won’t be posting a chapter next week, I have a big weekend event on. So we will return to Link’s adventures in two weeks!
As always, thank you for reading, and I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride over this last year!
Chapter 26: Underground
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The scant seconds of Link’s fall seemed to stretch out forever and yet end in an instant as he leapt out with sailcloth flung wide, billowing above him and snapping taut, seeming to fill the entire shaft; as he leant his weight this way and that in tense and subtle shifts to pull it back from veering, careening into a wall – and then all of a sudden he had hit the ground, solid rock bottom, hard enough to drop him to hands and knees as the sailcloth billowed slowly, gently, down on top of him.
Link tugged at the thin, light fabric until he finally pulled one side off his head and could look around. The sailcloth had crumpled somewhat against one of the walls, but thankfully didn’t seem to have been caught on it. The dull light that filtered down from above illuminated an implausibly flat rock floor, furrowed and ridged beneath a thin layer of ash with patterns as if the rock itself were treacle. Link could all too clearly imagine it flowing beneath his feet, red-hot slow liquid like the lava outside, but it was hard and dark and cool to the touch.
He stood slowly, and turned to refold the increasingly filthy sailcloth despite the urgency and impatience that twisted through his heart. He’d already needed it once; he couldn’t risk not having it ready. A lack of preparation for the weather kills as many fliers as the weather itself, the instructors had always said, in the classes that covered the dangerous flying that all Knights were expected to be capable of; Fi herself had reminded him to be as prepared as he could be before entering the crumbling old temple in the forest.
As soon as it was packed, he turned back to the path ahead: an almost circular opening in one wall of the shaft, its flat floor merging with the one on which he stood and sloping very slightly upwards into the darkness. Other than the rock chimney stretching high above, it was the only way out, and the faint and subtle prompting Fi lent him told him that this, too, was the way that Zelda had gone.
Lighting his lantern, Link set off into the dark.
* * *
The passage climbed mainly upwards, at first slowly, then more steeply, then slowly again. Link followed the faint sense of direction that sent him after Zelda, twice reaching intersections where the cave forked and each time focusing on the subtle prompting that told him this way, this way. A couple of times he’d noticed strange, rounded mounds of rubble on the ground, and once one spilling from a hole in the wall, so strange that he’d asked Fi about it. She’d explained that it was most likely the filled-in tunnel dug by an exploring mogma; that the subterranean people were known to use earthen magic to render even solid rock vulnerable to their sturdy digging claws.
As the flickering light of Link’s lantern began to illuminate another cave mouth, something that might have been a boulder loomed large in it, only to abruptly move before he could fully make it out, startling him into reaching back for his sword.
Fi?
The creature immediately ahead is a mogma, Master. However, I detect multiple demonic beings in the cavern beyond.
Relieved and concerned in equal measure, Link left the sword sheathed but advanced softly, circumspectly. The mogma didn’t notice him at first, intently peering into the darkness beyond, and Link dropped a couple of the shutters on his lantern to reduce the light in case the bokoblins, wherever they were, saw it.
As he drew close, the mogma turned suddenly, twisting in what Link realised was indeed a pile of rubble similar to the others he’d seen.
“Yeow!” Somehow the quiet, strangled squeak managed to be a definite exclamation. “What’re you doing? Don’t be sneakin’ up on me like that!”
“I’m sorry,” Link whispered. He couldn’t see the bokoblins, but who knew how far the echoes of their voices would carry in the echoing rock tunnels. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m only down here to look for a friend, and I know it’s dangerous up ahead.”
“Yeah,” grumbled the mogma, almost growling. “This whole bunch of red creeps just came right on in here and took over our territory.” He pointed with a heavy-clawed hand into the darkness of what looked, as Fi had said, like a large open space – one in which Link, as his eyes adapted to the dimmer light of his half-shuttered lantern, could now see faint flickers of light. “They’ve even set up, what d’you call it, houses, like the stories say surface-people have.” He squinted at Link, who stepped obligingly closer. “You look like some sort of surface-person, am I right?”
“Uh… sort of?” Link had been about to say no when he realised that the idea of living in the sky was probably even more alien and impossible to the mogma than the idea of living underground was to him. “And so’s my friend. I’m Link, and she’s Zelda. Have you seen anyone else like me?”
The mogma shook his head. “Can’t help you there. The only things I’ve seen come through here are those red creeps. I’m Nackle, anyway.” He twisted back to look dolefully into the blackness beyond, with its flickers of light. “This used to be a great cavern, you know. These old lava tubes cracked into another big old cave after the magma flow clogged up, and the place is practically lined with riches. My den is just under the surface near the other side, but with those creeps there, I don’t dare get any closer in case they try and dig me out. One or two I could deal with, but there’s just too many.” He looked back at Link. “You should try the other tunnel. Those creeps only-”
A sudden, unexpected sound echoed through the caves, drowning out the quiet voices, ringing in Link’s quiet-adapted ears and leaving him unable to even tell where it was originally coming from. He snatched for the Goddess Sword, drawing it in a jolt of alarm, glowing softly blue-white in the darkness.
“They’ve seen us!” Nackle yelped in alarm. “Dig for your life!” He vanished back into the hole so swiftly that Link could almost have missed him moving at all, nothing but a mound of jagged pebbles to mark his passage. The sound rang out again, and this time Link recognised it as a horn, off-key but most importantly loud. He slipped the shield from his back and braced himself: if the bokoblins chased him and he ran, he’d risk losing Zelda’s trail, and then losing his way down in the blind darkness of the caverns. The thought of being trapped and lost in the black underground frightened him more than the idea of standing his ground did, even as several bokoblins appeared screeching in the darkness ahead, one brandishing a flaming torch that looked little more than a branch set on fire, the others waving chipped blades and crude clubs. A steep climb between him and them slowed the creatures, but didn’t stop them: Link ran forward to see what they were doing despite a couple at the back throwing rocks up at him. Looking down, he saw their slightly quicker fellows had already began to climb, ungainly but all too fast, up the rock wall towards him! Even as he brought the sword down point-first into one climber’s shoulder with a yell, another was scrambling up on his other side. The dying bokoblin below him shrieked its agony and fell from the wall, dragging Link down with it for a desperate heartbeat until its body fell from the flawless blade, and as the one that had just scrambled up swung at him, chittering foully, he jerked away from it – and overbalanced.
The world spun dizzyingly around him as he turned in the air, a flier’s reflex instantly shifting his weight, rolling him – he landed hard, winded, on his back across something soft and warm and vile; rolled away on instinct though his dazed thoughts wanted nothing more than to be still for a moment; came back to his feet almost in the face of one of the stone-throwing bokoblins, throwing his shield up just in time and felt the spray of spittle across his face as it screeched and tried to hit him with the stone already in its fist only to smash stone and fingers against his shield and back off, squeaking in angry pain. Link pursued it, knowing that the others were already at his back, maybe even already swinging; perhaps it was his imagination, but he could have sworn he felt something pass so close the wind of it fluttered his hair as he dashed past the bokoblin, striking as he did.
To his own shock, the sword in his hand took its head from its shoulders in that single blow, offering less resistance to his blade than he had quite expected; the bokoblin crumpled in a silent spray of blood as Link gained a precious several steps of distance, intending to turn and face the others when the horn sounded again and he realised that he had at last seen the creature blowing it: another bokoblin, weaponless and dancing madly from foot to foot atop a crude stack of chipped rocks that Link realised to his surprise probably served the creature as a watchtower of sorts. Changing his mind in an instant, he ran towards the crude tower, slinging the shield back across his back and sword back into its sheath as he threw himself at it, risking the climb to silence the sound that had to be calling every last bokoblin in the caves towards him. The bokoblin chittered as he reached up towards it, a gleeful and greedy hatred in its piggy eyes, distracted from blowing its horn by trying to hit him with it, stubby arms falling only just short of his right hand.
Something struck him hard in the back of the leg, and Link gasped in sudden pain. The other bokoblins had to still be behind him, throwing stones and whatever else they could find; perhaps even now beginning to clamber up below him. There was no time to turn back, or to second-guess himself. As another stone bounced harmlessly off the rocks beside him and the horn-wielding bokoblin again attempted to hit his right hand with it, he lunged upwards, using his greater reach to grab the bokoblin before it could pull back and yank it past him with all his strength. It lurched forward, screeching; tumbled past him flailing as he pressed himself flat to the stone pile, and in another moment it landed with a soft and sickening crack.
Everything but the immediate moment pressed to the back of his mind, Link hauled himself up onto the top of the crude tower, rough and splintery wooden planks lashed together with poor and poorly knotted rope. A torch that was definitely a simple branch set on fire burnt smokily beside him; as he turned, he could see the remaining five bokoblins swarming its base, ignoring the twitching body of their fellow. Snatching up the torch, he threw it down amongst them, making them squeal and draw back, and swung himself over the far side of the tower before they could look back at him.
To his own surprise, his hands and feet found what was almost a rough ladder of protruding planks jammed between the barely-cut rocks, and he clambered down far more easily than he had up. The cavern echoed with squeals and screeches as the bokoblins came spilling around the side of the tower towards him, clearly – unlike Link himself – knowing that the ladder was there.
He was just in time to meet the first one with his shield; to use its moment’s disorientation as its club cracked against it to slash around and lay its weapon arm open to the bone. The bokoblin dropped the club, and Link dashed away again, turning after a couple of paces to back up: the others were behind him, and he couldn’t let himself get surrounded. They attacked as a horde, with no real coordination, no strategy, and he feinted leftwards as the foremost one closed again. It fell for it, eyes glinting with a brutish savagery as it swung its crude sword, and Link stepped right, leaving it to hit only air as his blade sank into its skull and it fell still upon the rock-strewn floor.
There were still four more, and they were too close; Link’s strike had almost taken him into another club-wielding one, and the one with the flaming brand almost leapt over its fallen fellow to stab at him with it. His frantic and instinctive block with the Goddess Sword sheared the entire burning end from the branch, but the club-wielder hit his shield with a force that jolted up his arm and almost forced him to step backwards, and behind them he could see the other two scurrying to take their turn at killing the intruder in their midst. The formerly torch-waving bokoblin struck again, screeching its fury, its truncated weapon slipping just past his guard in the dark and shifting half-light of lantern and fallen torch, splintering end slamming hard into his arm – Link forced himself to keep gripping the sword though his fingers weakened treacherously, risked everything in a single desperate thrust that drove under the bokoblin’s arm and sank deep into its body, clearing him precious space; he whirled into it, sword out, as the bokoblin staggered and sagged aside, and the slash that had been intended to do nothing more than ward them back from him as he turned struck something, sinking deep into another bokoblin’s side, and suddenly only two of them remained to face him: one with a bleeding arm and a chipped blade clutched in its other hand in a way that suggested it had never once even attempted to fight with its non-dominant hand before; one still, for the moment, uninjured. Desperate not to allow them a moment to strike, Link focused on the uninjured one, its companion’s swing going wild as he drove it back, blocking, blocking a second and even a third time with its crude and heavy blade until at last he cut it down and turned in time to catch the last one’s poorly-aimed blade on his shield, knock it aside, and deliver a fatal blow.
The cave fell silent, and, gasping for breath, Link staggered to the rock wall, steadying himself against it, listening for sounds that no longer echoed in the almost lightless underground.
Was it over?
Notes:
Sorry it’s late; I’ve rather lost track of time over the holiday and whoa suddenly posting time where did that come from?
Patch Notes:
- Parachutes remain parachute-sized, i.e. huge.
- Link no longer charges hordes of bokoblins while on an unrelated time-sensitive mission just because a nearby mogma expressed mild displeasure. He hasn’t learnt to hate them that much yet.
- Amount of wood available on extremely active volcano reduced.
Chapter 27: With Others' Aid
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link was still steadying himself when the rock beside him cracked, splitting open as easily as spade-struck soil, and a pair of heavy-clawed hands poked out even as he whirled to face it, a furry, pointy-muzzled head following, eyes squinting into the light of his lantern.
“I can’t believe it!” Nackle exclaimed jubilantly. “You took out every last one of ’em! You’re one tough customer! I owe you one, pal.”
“It’s, uh… it’s okay,” Link managed, still trying to calm his racing heart.
“Nonsense,” Nackle told him. “I don’t blame you for not knowing this, but we mogmas always honour our debts. And hey, we’re right by my den, and all of my stuff! So let me give you something in thanks. Any requests? Crystals? Ores?”
“Well…” Link looked into the mogma’s eyes, seeing nothing but honesty and gratitude. He had the impression Nackle would be offended if he outright refused, but… there was really only one thing that was important. “Is there any way you could help me find my friend?”
Nackle frowned, scratching his furry head. “Hmm… Well, I don’t know where you should look… and I can’t leave here until I’ve moved all my stuff somewhere safer…” His head lifted sharply as an idea seemed to occur to him. “Ah! I have just the thing! Wait right there!”
Before Link could respond, he vanished back down into his hole with the sound of crumbling rock, leaving another mound of freshly-broken pebbles behind him. Unsure of what else to do, Link waited, glancing around the silent cavern. How had the mogma done that?
It was barely a minute before Nackle returned, popping up again in the same spot and reaching down into the broken stone around his waist to hold out a metal-and-leather package.
“Take these things!” he instructed. Link obediently took them from his clawed hands, holding them up to inspect in his lantern’s light: a pair of oversized mittens, more or less, with thick metal strips running along the back and extending into slightly blunted claws nearly twice the length of his fingers. “I reckon they’d be something pretty special to a surface-dweller like yourself! We make ’em for pups whose digging claws don’t grow right. With a pair of these, you should be able to dig places just like a mogma. Impressive, eh? Maybe they’ll help you get to wherever your friend has gone. I put the enchantments on ’em just a few weeks ago myself, so I guarantee you that’s a first-rate pair of diggers.”
Link smiled faintly, still shaken, as Nackle wound down. “Thank you very much. I’m sure that’ll be really helpful.”
“Thank you very much!” the mogma replied. “You won me safe passage right back to my den, and let me tell you, that’s worth a lot! I’d better get started moving everything out before any more of those creeps come back, but I hope those claws help you find your friend… and that they’re okay when you get there. Good luck!”
“You, too. Be careful.”
“As a pup under scree!” Nackle promised… whatever that meant. In moments he had disappeared again, back into the tunnel he had somehow dug through what Link could have sworn was solid rock. Looking at the digging claws again, he used the strapping on them to clip them to his belt, and set out back across the cave to the tunnel he’d been in before, where Zelda’s trail had been, avoiding the bokoblins’ bodies as much as he could. The short drop at the entrance was much easier to scramble up than it would have been with them hacking and grabbing at him.
“Fi,” Link murmured as he walked back into the tunnel, the faint sense of directionality she lent him picking out Zelda’s path, “what do you make of these gloves?”
They are of sturdy construction, and notably adjustable, although the basic hand shape they are designed for is somewhat different to, and notably larger than, your own. Fi’s silent voice answered in his mind. My analysis confirms that they have been enhanced magically, granting them additional properties, including the ability to dig through rock for short periods. From observation of the mogma Nackle, I am able to confirm that he, and with 90% confidence the majority of other mogmas in the area, possesses some ability for and training with magic associated with rock and stone.
“Wow,” Link murmured. That was potentially useful. “He said he made them for pups whose claws didn’t grow properly…”
The deterioration that I have observed in the four mogmas we have thus far encountered renders it highly probable that a proportion of them are born with outwardly visible deformities, including insufficiently or incorrectly developed hands. This would inhibit their ability to dig and potentially to cast magic, depending upon their casting tradition. I remain unable to determine the ultimate cause of the damage at this time, Master. However, it is clear that Nackle is familiar with its effects, and that the mogmas of this region attempt to circumvent them where possible.
“I guess that’s good, at least.” He wondered again what had happened to the mogmas, what had caused the strange hereditary deterioration that Fi was still unable to explain. Though he didn’t really know any of them, let alone their community as a whole, he hoped that somehow, somewhere, someone would be able to help them.
* * *
Link had never thought he would be as relieved as he was to feel the oppressive heat of the ash-laden air on his face as he finally emerged from the caverns further up the volcano. Nackle’s gift had already proven well worth its while, letting him cautiously and somewhat awkwardly scoop handholds out of rock faces in order to climb, although he had to keep one of the gloves off to grip since putting his weight on an embedded claw simply caused it to slice down through the rock in a shower of gravel. Zelda’s trail somehow led directly up those same rock faces, and though Fi had informed him she detected residual traces of magic which she must have used to ascend, it was still strange. He hadn’t even known she’d begun learning a spell to lift herself, and she usually enjoyed showing off her mastery of new magics to him and her other friends.
He took a deep breath of the stiflingly warm air, blessedly filtered and purified by the Sheikah mask over his mouth and nose, and set off along Zelda’s path, looking around in the hope of seeing her somewhere ahead – or, if not her, at least Ireya and Davar. Zelda’s path led around another rocky outcrop, and Link followed it hopefully… only to stop in dismay. The trail ended in a precipitous drop down to another lava flow, and though he could see a projection on the far side, ash-coated but blockily regular for all the sky like a broken bridge, the gap was far too far to jump. And yet, once again, Zelda’s trail led directly over it.
“She used magic here, too, didn’t she?” he asked Fi softly. There seemed to be no other way.
That is correct, Master.
“Can you see any other way across?” Link didn’t want to risk turning away from Zelda’s path in case he never found it again – and, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to go back underground.
I do not detect any potential crossing location in the immediate vicinity, Fi replied after a few moments, dashing his hopes. Another long moment lingered in the silence, Link gazing defeatedly across the gap, before she spoke again. However, Master, I have just detected two partially-concealed presences upon the far side. It is apparent that the Sheikah, too, have reached this region.
Relief brought a sudden smile to Link’s face beneath the mask.
“Ireya!” he shouted. “Davar!”
Only the wind, and the disconcerting rumbling tremors of the mountain, and the strange almost crumbling flow of the lava below, met his ears. Link wondered if they could even hear him at all.
“Hello!”
It appears that they have noticed your call, Master.
Despite Fi’s confirmation, Link had to wait nearly a minute before he saw either one, a slim camouflaged figure almost melting into view through the hazy, ash-laden air.
“Chosen one!” The voice calling back proved the figure to be Davar. Motion behind him, then, had to be Ireya. “Do you need aid?”
Link nodded, a little exaggeratedly just as he would have from the back of a bird. “I need to get across! Zelda’s trail goes right across this gap!”
Ireya and Davar glanced to one another, sharing an almost imperceptible nod, and Davar made a few swift gestures before vanishing, reappearing less than a breath later beside Link. Even though he’d known to expect it, he still jumped despite himself, turning to face the taller Sheikah.
“Brace yourself, chosen one,” Davar advised. Remembering the dizzying transportations of before, Link widened his stance, and the Sheikah nodded in quiet satisfaction before repeating almost the same swift gestures. They seemed less dramatic than the ones he had made to take them from the Sheikah camp, what Link remembered of them: because they weren’t going as far, perhaps?
In the blink of an eye, they were across the gap, and Link staggered slightly as he found his new footing, looking back at his unexpected allies.
“Thanks.”
“It is our task to aid you,” Ireya said, but behind their masks, Link thought they were, perhaps, smiling.
“Have you seen any signs of Zelda on this side? She was definitely here.”
“Nothing of which we can be sure,” Ireya told him slowly. “But we have found sign that another of our kin passed this way recently. The only one who would be upon this mountain is Impa, she who is attendant to Mahra Impa in watching over the seal upon the darkness. She set out before we to seek the spirit maiden – to seek Zelda. Since she passed here before us, perhaps, by the grace of the goddess, she will have found her.”
“I hope so,” Link said, wholeheartedly. The Sheikah were strange, and mysterious, and once he’d found Zelda there was so much that he needed to ask them – but they were also allies he could trust. Wherever she was, he hoped Zelda had that, too.
* * *
Accompanied by Ireya and Davar, scouting ahead of and around his course, Link fought his way further up the mountain, climbing steep slopes with the aid of the digging claws or once at a desperate run, forced to move as quickly as he could, faster than he should have dared risk, by a pair of bokoblins at the top of the slope hurling rocks down at him that bounced and spun and chipped shards from the jagged stone of the mountain as they flew, and only when he was halfway up did Ireya and Davar finally reach the monstrous creatures and swiftly, efficiently, silence them forever. They passed through a ramshackle village of crude huts, only sparsely occupied with bokoblins chittering and squealing their hatred, and between Link and the Sheikah all of them were slain.
As they clambered to the top of what appeared to be another high ridge, Link pulled himself up onto flatter ground and stopped with a gasp of surprise. Ahead, a stone-built facade loomed from the otherwise impassable cliff face, somewhat cracked and ash-coated, but clearly a building, with grand columns and half-concealed reliefs hinting at ancient importance. The ground before it was remarkably level, though coated in volcanic ash, and before the great doors Link could see recent evidence of digging, clearing stained and blackened flagstones in an arc large enough to allow the doors to be opened.
“The Earth Temple,” Ireya stated in her customary near-whisper, almost in his ear.
“It looks like someone’s been in here recently…”
Fi vaulted from the sword to hover before them, surprising the two Sheikah only somewhat more than Link.
“Master Link, I detect that Zelda’s aura passes directly through these doors. However, I also detect traces of demonic presence. Additionally, the digging is too extensive to have been carried out by one person alone in the amount of time that Zelda possessed. I thus deduce that the temple ahead is currently occupied by bokoblins and other demonic creatures, raising the hazard level within it significantly.”
And Zelda’s gone right into it… Link took a deep breath, the Sheikah mask leaving the air he breathed clean, if still warm. “Then there’s no time to waste. Ireya, Davar?”
He thought he saw the Sheikah’s eyes crinkle behind their masks in matched smiles.
“It will be our honour to accompany you, chosen one.”
Notes:
Well, what do you know – I’m finally back! Sorry for the long delay.
Patch Notes:
- Reason provided for mogmas to possess artificial means of performing an action mogmas perform naturally, continuing previously-introduced plot threads.
- Frequency of using dangerous volcanic vents for lift significantly reduced in favour of new climbing mechanic.
- On learning Zelda is in trouble, Impa no longer waits around to say nothing of value to Link before going after her.
- Zelda ambush location moved to more suitable point.
- Inexplicable temporary increase in bokoblin intellect removed. Bokoblins no longer possess sufficient foresight to break keys and bury shards behind inaccessible rockfalls.
Chapter 28: Ambush
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The door creaked as Link pulled it open, throwing his weight into it. A wash of hot air billowed out, warmer even than the air around him, laden with something that stung his eyes. He raised a reflexive hand to shield them, lowering it slowly as the initial rush of air died away, frowning into the gloom. The hall ahead was wide and short, with alcoves that had perhaps once held candles lining the walls, and as Link ventured cautiously forward, he could see that it ended in a staircase, descending deeper into the mountain.
Link lit his lantern, hanging it from his belt. Taking a deep breath, he glanced to the Sheikah flanking him… and began the descent.
At the foot of the stairs, the hall opened out still further, into a huge and largely dark chamber. Flickering torchlight in seemingly arbitrary locations only served to emphasize just how far away the walls were, hinting at edges of shapes that he couldn’t entirely make out. The pool of light around him, his shadow a black bar dancing across it, seemed dwarfed by its immensity. Link gazed around slowly, trying to estimate how big the huge space really was. Had this been a gathering hall for worshippers…?
The tingle of warning from Fi came barely half a heartbeat before the Sheikah snapped into motion; a full heartbeat before Link snatched his sword from its scabbard, eyes flicking back and forth as he sought what they had sensed – what, in the next moment, he heard: a shrieking and a screeching that seemed to come from all sides; the sound of heavy soft impacts like bare feet landing on stone. Moments later, several bokoblins charged squealing into his light, hatred burning in their dull piggy eyes, more of their fellows running behind them. Link gasped, automatically dropping into a defensive stance, the sword in his hand glowing subtly with its inner light as he took one blow on his shield; caught another on his sword; resisted the urge to whirl on another presence he realised was the Sheikah trying to remain back to back with him. There were so many!
Fighting with a strength born of equal parts determination and desperation, Link struggled to hold them off, sweating in the heat of the cavern, instinct taking over as he blocked, parried, struck; punched out with his shield to send one foe stumbling back into another; stabbed into the soft unprotected stomach of a third; took a glancing blow to the mail that covered his side and in the next second saw his assailant fall to a knife in the eye. Another few moments of desperate battle and Link found himself returning the favour, half-turning to embed the shining Goddess Sword in the head of a club-wielding bokoblin that had been about to strike Ireya and jerking it free, whirling back the other way at once before the attacker to his right could take advantage, only just able to bring his shield to bear in time, the force of the poorly-caught blow sending a numbing shock up his right arm. Flickering light and shadow made the bokoblins seem even more monstrous than they already appeared, catching gleams from tooth or tusk or crude chipped blade; exacerbating sagging jowls or cloaking eye sockets in empty-looking shadow. Another dagger flew over his shoulder, so close he felt the wind of its passage on his ear; another bokoblin fell thrashing to the ground for its fellows to stumble over, and Link took the moment’s opportunity to strike out, lunging for a foe, almost overreaching himself but counting it worthwhile as it gurgled its last and he drew back, as another crude weapon caught the side of his leg and he staggered, but kept his footing, the Sheikah behind him landing a lightning-fast kick on the attacker without turning, knocking it off-balance enough that he could bring the Goddess Sword down on it and send it screeching to the floor. Time had lost all meaning; distance was measured only in inches from the presences at his back, in sword-lengths to the foe. Another numbing strike landed high on his left arm, Ireya moving to cover his brief vulnerability, and as Link slightly shakily restored his guard he heard a pained cry from behind, the first sound either Sheikah had made beyond their motions and breath.
Link whirled at once, seeing Davar sprawled on the floor, a bokoblin jabbing down at him – leapt his fallen ally’s body in furious determination, almost heedless of the danger, striking out with enough force to take the hideous creature’s arm clean off in a spray of foully discoloured blood and interpose himself in the way of another would-be attacker, while behind him Ireya defended Davar’s other side. The wounded bokoblin staggered away, clutching the stump of its arm, bumping into another of its fellows, tripping over a corpse lying still on the floor, already all but gone from Link’s awareness as he kept up the desperate fight, struggling to keep them back. How many were there? The thought crossed his mind only for an instant: he couldn’t focus on anything but the fight for even that long. Three bokoblins swung at him and Link twisted, shield up, blocked frantically with the Goddess Sword, almost stumbled over Davar as one of the creatures all but threw itself at him. In the next moment, the prone Sheikah seemed to come back to life, a small blade in hand slashing across the back of the bokoblin’s ankle, biting deceptively deep and dropping it to the floor at Link’s feet. He kicked it back with a cry and struck down, ending it, and all of a sudden Ireya was at his side, driving one of the others back with a flurry of precise strikes. Suddenly there seemed to be only one left in front of him, cowering back as at last the idea that perhaps it was outmatched finally filtered dimly through to its feeble mind – and, though it blocked his first strike, Link cut it down with a second that all but took its head from his shoulders.
Silence fell, broken only by the humans’ ragged panting and the occasional weakly fading squeal, and Link slowly turned, looking around. Bokoblin corpses and the nearly-dead littered the floor around him, Ireya’s face a blood-spattered mask, Davar still lying almost motionless on the ground, his face set in lines of pain.
“Davar…!”
Link slung his shield back across his back and knelt beside him, holding up his lantern for better light as Ireya dropped to her knees on his other side. Like them both, Davar was sprayed in the bokoblins’ foul, purplish blood, but no bokoblin could have been the source of the dark stain that covered half his side, beginning to pool on the floor beneath him.
“I made… a mistake…” Davar whispered through gritted teeth.
“I have potions- let me-”
Ireya leant across her friend to intercept Link’s hand as he reached to his pouch, her hand warm to the touch and trembling against his.
“No, chosen one.” She blinked for a moment too long, her whispered words on the edge of shaking. “Such a wound… no potion alone can heal. Only make certain the inevitable, even as it delays it. He has… he has not much time.”
Link froze for a moment as her words sank in. He barely knew either of them, and yet – they had aided him, saved him, stood and fought beside him – after a moment of yawning horror, he spoke again, tripping over his words.
“Can you take him – if you took him to get help – your people, could they-?”
Ireya nodded jerkily. “It is possible. A skilled healer- it’s possible, still.”
"But the spirit maiden…” Davar managed. “In this place…”
Ireya and Link looked at one another over his body, duty warring with duty in the Sheikah woman’s eyes. In Link’s, it was no choice at all.
“I’ll be okay. Take Davar back home. I don’t… I won’t let either of you die for me.”
“Chosen one…”
Link forestalled her words with his own. “Not if there’s any other way.” He still didn’t even really know what they and Fi thought he’d been chosen for. “I’ve got Fi. I’ll be all right. We know Zelda came in here, and we’re not far behind her. There can’t be that many ways out. I’ve just got to keep going.” He glanced at Davar’s pain-drawn face. “I already wouldn’t have got this far this quickly if it hadn’t been for you. You’ve helped me a lot. Please… take him back.”
Ireya’s eyes flicked from Link to her dying companion and back again. “Are you certain?” she whispered.
“Of course! Look… if you get him help now, you’ll both be able to help me later.” He refused to let himself believe that there might already be nothing anyone could do. “Hurry, okay? I know it’s your duty to help me, but believe me, both of you already have.”
Ireya nodded, slowly, the flickering light of his lantern reflecting from her eyes. “We will do this, chosen one. I will return to aid you as soon as… as soon as Davar’s fate is secured.”
Link nodded, forcing a weak smile onto his face, an attempt at encouragement. “Good. I’ll see you again soon.”
Once again, Ireya nodded. She said nothing more, sitting back, looking at her companion for a last long moment, and standing to begin a set of swift gestures that whisked them both away with a warping in the air, stirring a brief breeze that brushed past Link’s face and was gone.
I hope he’ll be okay…
Link stood up, feeling himself shaking as everything that had just happened finally hit him, the bright blade still in his hand wavering slightly. Bokoblin corpses lay all around, a couple not quite dead and still twitching feebly with the last of their strength.
The obvious thought struck him then, so hard it felt almost like a physical blow. How had Zelda made it past here?
“Fi,” he whispered, tense and almost frantic, “Zelda’s trail goes on from here, right?” It has to, please say it does, it has to.
Fi sprang from the sword to appear beside him, her faintly luminous presence comforting. “It does, Master.” She gestured gracefully ahead. “The aura of evil within this temple is sufficiently strong that I am unable to discern more than that her aura is present, and that she passed in that direction.”
Relief filled Link’s heart at the words. “That’s more than enough. Thanks, Fi.”
“You are welcome, Master.”
Notes:
Sorry for the delay! I’m afraid there most likely won’t be a chapter next weekend, either – I have quite a busy week ahead of me. But here’s one for now!
Patch Notes:
- Ambush capable of overwhelming lone Knight Academy student provided.
- Enclosed space with minimal airflow no longer at 1,000°C: magma removed from majority of temple.
- Self-patch: Additional Sheikah removed from local plot before they can become too helpful. ;-)
Chapter 29: Determination
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Vast and echoing, the huge entrance hall had proven to contain no further threat than a few evid keese imbued with fire magic, foes Link had easily sliced from the air. Though he desperately wanted to follow Zelda, he’d paced the walls of the enormous room first, ensuring there were no bokoblins left to attack from behind when he least expected it. Cracked and tumbled in places, they were engraved with carvings of what Link took to be dragons, stylised and blocky with mouths agape. Time had not been kind to the ancient temple, and even so, its sheer scale would have awed him if something far more important hadn’t superseded everything else.
Having completed his circuit, Link advanced hurriedly along the middle of the once-great hall. The shapes he’d been unable to make out had proven to be a mixture of defaced statues, crude bokoblin huts, and rocks fallen from the ceiling above, something that had him occasionally glancing up nervously despite Fi’s reassurance that the roof of the hall remained sufficiently structurally sound that there was only a 5% chance of anything falling from it without external influence. As he approached the crude barrier that blocked his path onwards, however, he heard the strange dry sound of cracking, shifting rock; instinctively leapt away from it; held his breath for a moment as though he could hear pebbles sliding, nothing anywhere near him seemed to fall…
“I never shoulda come here…” a strangely-accented voice complained despondently, and Link realised with shock that it was the same accent and slightly creaky tone of voice that all the mogmas seemed to share. Heart still racing, he ventured to step forward again, speaking softly as his eyes scanned the ground ahead.
“Hello?”
He saw the mogma in the same breath as the creature spoke, light reflecting in his beady eyes beneath a brush of blue hair, buried to his waist in shards of broken stone.
“Oh, it’s you again!” The mogma – Cobal, wasn’t it? – squinted at him, nose twitching as he sniffed the air. “You came all this way in search of your friend?”
Link nodded.
“Yeah, well… I think you might want to think again about that, pal.” Cobal’s long, mobile ears sleeked themselves back and down, almost flat to his stumpy neck, and Link realised that near the left ear’s tip his furry shoulder was a mess of clotted blood, that arm resting awkwardly atop the crumbled stone. “Those red guys are everywhere, and worse too, and my partner’s gone missing…”
“Ledd?” Link guessed, rewarded with a twitch of a nod. “What were you two doing here?” Hadn’t they been guarding the path down below?
“Well, you know…” Cobal fidgeted uncomfortably, something that looked a lot like guilt stamped across his face. “Me and Ledd got talking after you went by, and we figured we’d ask around a bit. Seems like those red creeps have all been heading up to this place in the last couple of days for some reason. So we thought we’d see what was what, in case they found some really great treasure…”
Link raised his eyebrows slightly, but said nothing.
“Anyway, Ledd went on ahead after I called him a big scaredy-mole, and now I can’t find him. Everywhere I come up there’s more of those awful creeps.” Cobal clenched his clawed right hand on dust and pebbles, an unpleasant grating sound escaping as they scraped against one another in his fist. “One of the big ones nearly took my head off.” He hung the head in question, shamefaced and unquestionably scared. “I can’t do this, pal. If you want to live to… live again one day, you should head for home.”
“I can’t do that, Cobal,” Link said quietly, his own fear catching at the back of his throat. “I have to go on. I know my friend came in here, and I’ve got to find her.”
Cobal looked wretched. “I should go find Ledd. But I just can’t face it.” He breathed a shaky sigh, trembling. “I can’t go back in there, pal. You don’t leave a partner in the lurch, but I just can’t do it.”
“I’ll see if I can find him,” Link promised. “I have to go deeper in anyway.” He glanced again at the mogma’s injured arm. “I don’t think there are any more bokoblins in this hall now, so you should be safe for the moment, but be careful.”
Cobal nodded stiffly, relief and gratitude mingling with the fear, pain, and chagrin on his long face. “You’ll have to be more careful than me, pal. If you’re really going in there, don’t let your guard up for one second. Not even one.”
“I won’t,” Link told him quietly. The mogma watched fretfully as he turned away, pacing cautiously back towards the crude barricade that covered a grand archway several times his own height. Made of mismatched wood and metal parts all crudely lashed together, it looked like most of the materials had been scavenged from somewhere, perhaps ripped from their original places in the temple: there was part of what looked like a decoratively wrought screen; there a piece with ravaged paint still clinging to it, brought into sharp relief by the light of Link’s lantern. Towards the top, some of the ropes almost seemed to disappear into the wall, and Link squinted up, trying to see what they were attached to without risking climbing the rickety-looking structure.
Master Link. Fi spoke in his mind without appearing, yet he wondered if her own attention was also directed upwards. It is not possible to satisfactorily observe the region you are interested in from this angle. I recommend that you employ the Beetle’s alternate viewing capability.
“Good idea, Fi,” Link murmured quietly, doing his best to still the tension and dread clutching at his heart. Davar had fallen at the very entryway; Cobal was likely only still alive because he had dug his way to safety. If he passed beyond the barricade, there would be worse danger within…
His hands moved almost automatically even as the dark thoughts played through his mind: drawing the bulky artificial insect from its safe resting place in his pouch; sliding his arm through its clasp and tightening it until it fit snugly. The beetle sat incongruously lightly atop his arm, and Link thought for a moment, recalling Fi’s instructions, before cautiously pressing the leftmost of the two buttons behind it. It clicked, then gave a buzz that dwindled to a faint and constant hum, and the small light on its tail blinked into steady life.
All right…
Link aimed his arm up at a steep angle and pressed the right-hand button. The beetle’s wings whirred into life in a blur of motion, and it lifted from his arm with a click. He wanted to watch it; forced himself to look down instead, to see the view from its eyes, or whatever passed for them, somehow displayed on the back of his arm. He touched his finger to the screen, dragging it sideways, and the beetle obediently turned, its eye-view tilting as it spiralled obediently upwards.
It took two tries to line it up properly with the top of the barrier while still keeping it at the right altitude, and enough concentration that it kept Link’s mind at least partially distracted from what he was about to willingly walk into. Half-hidden in the shadows, the ropes he’d noticed fed through a decorative grille that framed the top of the archway, passing through to somewhere beyond. Unlike the rest of the rope in the structure, they didn’t seem to be binding anything, nor attached anywhere beyond their original anchor points, some way lower down.
Link circled the beetle again, getting another look as it flew past. Could they be holding the entire thing up, like a plank bridge drawn up in high winds? There didn’t seem to be anything else binding the edges to the wall, whether by rope or crude nail.
“Fi,” he said softly, “I think those ropes are holding the barricade up.”
This time, Fi sprang from the sword, her subtly luminous blue face otherworldly as she hovered at his shoulder, her head tilting as she seemed to look from his arm to the ropes high above and back again.
“I calculate a probability of 90% that you are correct, Master. I hypothesise that there will be a mechanism on the other side for adjusting the length of the ropes, thus lowering and raising the barricade.”
“Do you think it would come down if we just cut them?” The thought of leaving it to be pulled up again behind them made him even more uneasy.
“Yes, Master Link.” Fi turned slightly, looking down on him from the couple of inches of additional height she gained from hovering above the ground. “However, its impact with the ground is likely to be dangerous due to its crude construction. Its structural integrity will be critically reduced.”
“Good.” Link pressed the button to recall the beetle, holding his arm out stiffly as he talked while it returned to him and lowered itself gently down. “I don’t want to risk it being closed behind us.”
“That is a rational concern,” Fi agreed, and Link thought she seemed subtly approving. Or was it just that she hadn’t told him he was making a fool of himself? He waited as the beetle landed and clipped itself back into place atop his arm, then turned around, looking at a nearby chipped and battered block of undulating stone defaced beyond recognition.
“We’d be safe behind there, wouldn’t we?” he said, pointing. Fi inclined her head, smooth and perfect, drifting along beside him as he crossed to it. On a scale to match the cavernous hall, it was taller than he was even at its lowest point. Without the beetle’s eyes, he wouldn’t have a hope of seeing what was going on beyond it.
As he stepped around its blunt end, he called out to the mogma, lost in the shadows of the hall.
“Cobal? If you’re still there, you should go underground. I’m going to try and bring down the barrier.”
A sudden scuffling of sliding rock was his only answer, but it was all the one he needed. Fi vanished back into the sword as he knelt behind the statue, aiming his right arm along it; pressed the button and launched the beetle. As it rose through the air, Link’s eyes remained fixed on the screen, tracing his finger across it to guide the strange device upwards and towards the rope. The image on the screen was definitely brighter than the shadows it was flying through should have permitted, and he could see, if not clearly, at least well enough. The blade on its mandibles was impressively sharp despite the amount of time it had spent locked in a rotting chest – but would it be enough to cut the rope?
There was only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath, Link edged his finger slightly rightward, then left again, lining the beetle up with the first rope. It hit it and swayed alarmingly, words spilling across the screen beneath his finger – then the rope parted with a snap that seemed to echo around the hall, the beetle spinning away from it as the words on the screen read:
[ERROR: ATTEMPTING FLIGHT STABILISATION.]
Link held his breath as the words stayed on the screen, the image behind them lurching like a flag in a gale. Was it levelling out?
[FLIGHT STABILISED. USER CONTROL RESTORED.]
The message vanished almost as quickly as he’d read it, and a tentative brush of his finger saw the beetle turn, as obedient as ever once again. It had got some distance down the hall while it was trying to stabilise itself, and as he aimed it back at the barricade, he could see it sagging just slightly on one side, the cut rope trailing down uselessly from its anchor. Determined, Link sent the beetle flying unerringly towards the second rope, angling it across the front of the barricade so that it would be less likely to hit it as it fell. Once again it struck the rope, closer to centrally this time; once again the thick but crude rope parted under the mechanical beetle’s assault and it spun out of control –
Before Link had time to think, a tremendous, shattering crash echoed through the hall, reverberating through the tiled stone floor, echoing around like a thunderclap even as other little pings and skittering thuds wove a harsh counterpoint beneath it. He flinched, arms thrown protectively over his ducked head, until silence fell once again.
His arm was beeping.
Link cautiously lowered his hands and looked at the beetle’s screen on the back of his arm.
[USER CONTROL ERROR. RETURNING TO CONTROL UNIT.]
He had to force himself to stay still and hold out his arm, waiting patiently for the beetle to land despite the fact that the crash must have echoed through what felt like the entire mountain. Everything in the temple had to know he was coming now; could be converging on him as he waited frozen, breath shallow with tension, until the beetle landed at last and he could unfasten the clasp from his arm, stowing it away to replace it with the heavier, metal-plated shield. It made him feel at least a little less vulnerable.
Slowly, cautiously, he crept to the edge of the defaced statue and peered around it. Nothing visible moved in the darkness beyond, a faint glow of light shining through the now-open archway, the light of his lantern all but overwhelming it and casting strange low shadows across the floor from the scattered debris that was all that remained of the crude barricade. Nothing moved that he could see, and Link drew a sharp, deep breath.
For all he knew, his death waited beyond that archway, just as Davar’s had caught them at the entrance. It certainly knew he was coming.
But perhaps, if it did, if it followed his trail instead of his friend’s…
Mustering every scrap of will he possessed, Link stepped out from behind the statue.
He could still turn back.
But if he did, he would never forgive himself.
Somewhere ahead of him, his best friend was even more alone than he was, facing the dangers of the depths with no-one at her side.
Step slow but unbroken, Link advanced to the huge archway – and walked through.
Notes:
Wow, it’s been a while. Sorry for the delay, everyone! The two weekends I was away I was expecting; the bit where I got covid and was in no fit state to write anything absolutely was not. But I am back with you once again, and I hope for a good run of actually regular updates now!
Patch Notes:
- Mogma emotions upgraded from comedy reluctance to actual fear.
- Bridge over lava replaced with barricade drawbridge due to removal of lava.
Chapter 30: Two Steps Back
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The hall beyond was even larger than the first, longer and wider and every bit as high: flickering light further along told him so, illuminating partial shapes, angles; blinking as something crossed in front of it. A hiss came from somewhere ahead, followed by a kind of deep-throated squawk, echoing around the giant hall and difficult to accurately pinpoint. Something was out there, it knew he was here, and Link followed some combination of his own instincts and Fi’s subtle prompting to hasten to his right, putting some sort of huge shadowy block between him and the lights. Shadows twisted and jumped across it as he moved, eerie and haunting, picking out something that might have been fangs; Link kept his distance and kept moving, sticking close to the wall. More sounds echoed around the immense cavern: strange hissing, snapping squawks like nothing Link had ever heard before. The corner of the hall came into view in his pool of light, a door set into the side wall. Link set his shoulder to it and shoved hard, the heavy door grinding across the floor. The moment it was open enough to slip through, he darted inside, leaning on it to close it behind him with a reassuring heavy finality. Whatever was hunting him on the other side, it wouldn’t get to him without warning.
The chamber he found himself in was octagonal, lit by a flickering torch in a sconce in its centre, and crude shelving half obscured the murals on the walls. An opening in the left-hand wall led into darkness, and Link eyed it warily as he stepped cautiously forwards, glancing around himself with his eyes always drawn back to the opening.
The shelves were sparsely scattered with items: metal scraps; crudely cut but carefully stacked timber; a few rupee crystals in chipped but ornate bowls; even some rough weapons and what looked to be shields. Link ventured closer to the rightward walls, conveniently further away from the opening, glancing across them. Spiked balls with a strange mounting; three of the kind of crude blades he’d seen the bokoblins using; a small bow left strung and probably ruined by it; a more slender, delicate sword that at first glance appeared to be of actually good quality; and a large cloth pouch, finely made, with intricate stitching, and why that was with the weapons Link had no idea. He picked it up: it was heavier than it looked, flopping limply in his hand, and…
The careful stitching below the neck – above a design that looked awfully like one of the strange ‘bomb flowers’ that grew on the volcano’s slopes – read “Ledd”. Link stared at it for a moment, then shook his head, forcing his thoughts back to the present. Maybe the missing mogma was still alive; maybe he’d just lost this. If he had, he’d want it back. If he hadn’t… if he was dead… Link could at least take it back to his friend Cobal. Decision made, he lashed it to his belt, turning away.
Fi sprang unexpectedly from the sword as he did, halting him. “Master Link.”
“What is it?”
“I detect Zelda’s aura upon this sword.”
“What?” Link spun back around as he spoke, looking at the slim, finely-made weapon.
“There is a 99% probability that it left her possession less than two hours ago,” Fi continued.
It wasn’t Zelda’s blade, no, but that was back in her room on Skyloft. If she’d found one on the surface then she’d have carried it with her to defend herself, so it made sense that she would have one, but – for a sword she’d used to be here, in a place that was so clearly used as storage by the bokoblins or whatever else lurked down here…
“No…” He shook his head again, slowly this time, not wanting to believe it. “Fi… Fi, she can’t, she – can, can you tell me if she’s all right, i-if she’s alive?” Somewhere, anywhere, please.
Fi turned, and he had the impression that she was concentrating, her perfect face even more still than usual. He all but held his breath as he waited, desperate, a thousand versions of the same question clamouring to be spoken the moment that he opened his mouth.
“The strength of her aura indicates that she was alive at the time that she passed through this chamber.” Her blank eyes met Link’s own, seemingly impassive despite the desperate pleading in his expression. “Master Link, it is imperative that you understand that the following information is not a reliable source of data. You must not use it as a guide in making decisions. However, I predict that revealing it will improve your emotional state. Therefore: the signature that I predict I would detect upon the death of the spirit maiden has not yet been detected.”
Hope and fear felt as though they would wrench his heart in two.
“Then – then she’s still alive?”
“You must not rely upon this information, Master. I am unable to accurately predict what would occur upon the spirit maiden’s death. I am only able to inform you that the outcome of her death that I consider most probable, according to the insufficient data that I possess, has not occurred.”
“That’s…” He swallowed. It didn’t help. “That’s… Thank you, Fi.”
Fi was silent for a long moment before speaking, as if she had only determined that she ought to after the fact. “You are welcome. Master-” For the first time, she cut herself off, her head snapping around and her blank gaze trained upon the gaping doorway in the far side of the room. “I detect danger approaching, Master. Prepare yourself.”
She had returned to the sword before he had a chance to reply. Trying and failing to force all his emotions into the back of his mind, Link drew the sword, shield ready in his other hand, and stepped away from the shelves to give himself room to move. Even as he did, something hissed menacingly from the shadows beyond, and moments later a form began to take shape from the darkness, prowling into the room.
It was a lizard, but a huge one: larger than Link, scaly and green with a yellow belly, walking on its hind legs and with a huge, studded metal shield covering much of its left arm, ending in a plated gauntlet. As Link stared at it, it opened its mouth and shrieked what was clearly a challenge, the same kind of sound he had heard echoing around the vast hall behind him.
“What is that?” Link whispered, his eyes locked on his foe, sizing it up even as it clearly sized him up.
The creature is not directly familiar to me, Master. However, I detect that its nature is primarily demonic, similar to bokoblins and moblins. Analysis of its physical and spiritual structure implies that it is significantly more complex than either of these creations, but is likely to have been created in the same fashion, with an intellect inferior to your own, but potentially equal in capacity to a capable human child. From the qualities inherent in its aura, I deduce with 60% confidence that its kind were created by the demon Ghirahim in the period between the raising of Skyloft and the present day.
The information flooded through Link’s mind far faster than Fi could have spoken aloud, filling no more than a long breath as the first lizard-creature sprang forwards a pace with a hiss, and Link held his ground; as a second one appeared in the dark doorway.
The creatures are agile and capable of notable feats of strength. The shields upon their left arms are solid metal, which will impede your ability to strike and may bind your blade with its ridged construction. Beside this, their only artificial weapons are the spiked balls mounted upon their tails; however, they possess sharp claws and teeth. Caution is recommended in this engagement.
Link took in the words as they flowed across him, but he was focused on the two lizards, on their motions. Swift and fluid, they shifted their weight lightly even as they stood in one place, just as he’d been taught to do, making them difficult to predict, ready to move in any direction. The second one leapt abruptly towards him, landing short but spinning as it did, pivoting to lash at him with its spike-tipped tail a deadly morningstar. Link caught the blow on his shield, and it almost staggered him, hitting with all the lizard’s mass, momentum, and muscle behind it. If he failed to block even one of those blows, at best it would probably cost him the use of a limb! The lizard recovered itself about as quickly as he did, and as he stabbed forward it leapt back, drawing him out; he slashed at it and it ducked; he tried for a feint and- and in the next moment, warned by an instinct half his own and half Fi’s voiceless twinge of peril, he flung himself sideways to hit the floor and roll back to his feet as the first lizard’s spike-tipped tail swished through the very spot where he’d been standing! They were smarter than the bokoblins, that much was obvious, and Link began to circle to his left, trying to keep one of them out of range using the other as an obstacle.
To his relief, the near one didn’t instantly step to cut him off the way one of his fellow students might have tried, hissing at him and brandishing its gauntlet in a gesture of unmistakeable challenge. Hoping to get in close and avoid the deadly tail, Link darted forwards, letting it think he was taking the bait; feinted for its right side and swept around for a strike at the left – one that the lizard only barely, glancingly blocked! He was forced to disengage in the next moment, skipping back to his right as the first lizard tried to come around the other way. With both of them to his sword hand, he kept circling, watching the near one as it watched him with its strange greenish-yellow eyes, assessing his movements so disconcertingly like some of the people he’d trained with. Unlike them, it kept its head turned slightly to one side, watching him with one eye or the other – but even as he noticed that it was moving, starting another effortless pivot with its morningstar tail whipping through the air in a long arc, heavily armoured arm held almost stationary as a counterweight! Link leapt back, narrowly avoiding the blow, and this time kept going, the first lizard darting closer as the motion left his guard slightly open, placing itself as his near-range foe and getting – thankfully – in the other’s way as it recovered itself. This one aimed a clumsy punch at him with a hiss, one Link could have laughably countered if it wasn’t for the heavy armour that would doubtless knock his sword aside, and he was forced to dodge again, slashing at it at the very limit of his range as it pulled its armour-clad arm back, missing but immediately following through, forcing it to pull back – it caught his next strike with a swipe of its armoured arm; ducked the one after! It stayed ducked for a moment, armoured arm angled above its head in near-impenetrable protection, long tongue sticking out as it made a strange gargling sound and shook its head, almost as if it were taunting him. Link ignored the provocation, but he didn’t ignore the opening: the tall lizard would have found it next to impossible to hit one of its own kind in that pose, but from his own lower angle – he thrust forward, striking just beneath the edge of the armour plating, stabbing into the soft joint of the lizard’s neck and shoulder! It fell sprawling to the ground with a final gurgle, and he leapt away again, shield at the ready, as the second lizard gave a low screech whose murderous intent needed no translation.
In the next moment it was on him, leaping across the body of its fellow in an agile bound, slamming its tail down with such force that Link heard something chip as it hit the floor less than half a pace from him! Almost before he had even consciously thought it he was striking, taking the hair’s-breadth opportunity, slashing down as the lizard began to pull back and just, just connecting, severing the last third of the tail and its spiked tip! The tip of the Goddess Sword hit the stone floor hard enough that part of Link winced inwardly, and for an instant he, too, was horribly exposed, but the lizard missed its chance, shrieking in pain and lashing the stump of its tail, blood spattering across the room. Grim-faced and determined, Link pressed his sudden advantage, driving it back with the ring of metal on metal as it blocked his blade, made a clumsy grab for it and missed, no mercy in his iron determination as he fought the creature that might have killed his best friend, that was standing between him and her if she was still alive. Finding itself backed up against the shelving, it gathered itself to spring, and Link’s strike carved a bloody line down its side as it leapt away, landing just a couple of paces out of range. He closed the distance before it could flee, giving it no opportunity to turn tail lest it risk a blade in its back, and it finally took the initiative, clawing at him with its free hand even as the heavily-armoured one swept in for a crushing blow at his shield side – one that he only barely blocked by stepping in, battering its unprotected hand away with a wild slash that cut into the meat of its arm but didn’t sever it, the armoured arm trying to close around his back, hot rank lizard breath on his face as it opened its mouth to bite him, as he twisted the Goddess Sword in his hand and drove it home between the creature’s ribs! The mouth gaped silently, gasping for a breath that would never come, armoured hand hitting his back with no real force and dropping under its own weight, the claws of its injured arm raking weakly down his own as it collapsed.
Trembling with adrenaline and revulsion, Link stepped back from the bloody corpse, looking around towards the door. His silent question was answered before he could even ask it with a momentary strengthening of his sense of Zelda’s path, and he followed it into the shadowy room beyond without a moment’s hesitation.
Light shone from another doorway on the far side, and he made his way towards it, following Fi’s silent promptings. His lantern had gone out at some point during the fight, but he would relight it if he needed it, unwilling to begrudge the time. As best he could tell from the shapes in the gloom, this room held tools and scraps; nothing worth looking at.
He was almost across when he heard the scratchy crumbling of rock; whirled around with sword up – only to see a mogma’s upper half silhouetted against the flickering light of the room he’d just emerged from. It seemed wary, glancing right, left, around – and freezing in shock as it saw him, relaxing a moment later.
“That you, pal?” a creaky voice ventured cautiously. “It’s me, Ledd.”
Link wasn’t nearly as relieved as he would have been a few minutes ago.
“It’s Link,” he hissed back, stepping out of the flickering light cast by the doorway.
“Good timing,” Ledd said appreciatively, nervously. His ears were flicking back and forth, cocked for every betraying sound. “You showing up here has gotta mean something. You know, like fate or whatever. See, I came in here looking for treasure…”
Link was almost ready to turn and go, but Ledd’s next words froze him in place.
“...but just a little way’s digging from here, I found this room with a big old cage in it, and get this, pal. In the cage was this weird person in white who looked kind of like you.”
A storm of emotions choked him, leaving him speechless.
“I figured maybe I could use my trusty bombs to get her out, but just as I was going to roll one over there, this huge great thing jumped out at me. I gotta admit it, pal, I panicked. I hit the rock like I’d just dug into magma. I even dropped my poor old bomb bag…”
“You saw her?” Link whispered, heart in his throat. “Was she all right?”
“Well, she was awake and talking, pal. I dunno how all right she was other than that…” Ledd shrugged and hung his head. “I couldn’t get back in there after that. I could hear them moving around.” His long, mobile ears briefly lay back against his head before going back to their twitchy search for sounds. “I’ve been going around in circles trying to find somewhere safe to come up for ages. Then I felt a load of commotion over this way and dug on over so I could see what had gone down once it went quiet. Was that you, pal?”
Link nodded.
“First safe place I’ve been in I don’t know how long…” Ledd shuddered, then shook himself, his coarse fur rippling. “I tell you, pal, this place was a big mistake. I lost Cobal, and without my bomb bag I can’t even go help him or your friend.”
“Cobal’s okay,” Link whispered. Well, mostly, anyway. He seemed like he’d be all right. “I met him at the entrance. He wanted to go back in after you, but he didn’t dare. He’s really worried.”
Ledd perked up, even his ears briefly stopping their ceaseless shifting. “You found him, pal? That’s great! I’m such a bad pal, leaving him all alone like that in a place like this… I was scared he’d been roasted or worse!”
“Well, I left him waiting in the first hall,” Link confirmed. “It’s safe there for the moment, or it was. I think I found your bomb bag, too. I found a bag with your name on it, anyway.”
“You found it!” Ledd only just managed to keep his voice down in the exclamation. “Pal, I owe you big time. Give it here!”
Link approached the mogma, glancing over his shoulder to check nothing was sneaking up on them, and began to untie it from his belt.
“These things are great. They’re the only way to carry bomb flowers around safely. Sometimes you just gotta bring an awkward bit of rock down, you know?”
The cocktail of fear and relief had made the already talkative mogma garrulous. Link held the bag out silently, and Ledd reached out to take it… then hesitated, his clawed fingers not quite closed on it.
“You said Cobal was at the entrance, pal…”
Link nodded.
“Well… we mogmas always pay our debts. And boy, do I owe you a debt. Listen, I ain’t gonna lend you this thing… no, I’m gonna give it to ya!” He pushed Link’s hand back towards him, the tough skin of his hand warm and rough. “I know exactly how you must be feeling, not even knowing if your friend is dead or alive. Take it with ya, and use it to spring her from that cage I saw her in!” Ledd pointed with one strong arm, diagonally through the wall. “If I ain’t got turned around, she’s thataway as the mole digs. I don’t know how you get there on the surface, but if you got all the way here, I reckon you can find it. You go save her, and I’ll go tell my pal I’m okay. Deal?”
Link smiled for the first time in what felt like ages. “It’s a deal, Ledd. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it, pal. Maybe I’ll see you on the outside, eh?” He braced himself to retreat back into his hole, then stopped, looking back. “Say… you know how one of them things works, pal?”
Link shook his head.
“It’s real cushioned, and the enchantment on it means no air at all can get into it! Bomb flowers gotta have air or they don’t go off. Pop any old bomb flower into there, and it’ll be perfectly safe until you get it back out! Then, if you shake it or tap it, it starts from where it left off – so be quick about picking them, pal, or they’ll go up in your face when you get them back out. You got that?”
Link nodded.
“Good. I hope it helps you get your friend out. You go find her, pal!”
Once again, Link nodded, stepping back and turning away as Ledd vanished back underground, a gentle scratchy crumbling sound fading into nothingness as he burrowed away somewhere below the floor. He’d have to find his way to her, but with her trail to follow, it shouldn’t be hard. Whatever stood in his way, there was no way he would let it stop him. Hope and determination renewed, he turned back to the light ahead, and the way onwards.
* * *
There were no more lizard-creatures as he followed Zelda’s trail, something both he and Fi found strange. They had passed through a room that seemed set up as a rudimentary forge; through another where unidentifiable meats were in the process of drying; through a third where a very recent rockfall had destroyed one entire end of the room, obliterating whatever it might have been used for and blocking the door until Link had remembered seeing a couple of bomb flowers growing in a corner of the drying room and jogged back to fetch them in Ledd’s bomb bag: the fizzling sound had been nerve-wracking, but the mogma’s word had been good, and he’d been able to use one to clear the doorway. The lizards seemed to lead a surprisingly sophisticated life, and yet… there were none of them to be seen.
Reaching another heavy door, Link forced it open, grating across the ground like all the others. The room beyond, lit by a guttering torch, contained metal bars stretching from floor to ceiling, and he stepped in without even a moment’s thought, without bothering to close the door behind him. Scaly heaps lay upon the ground in pools of blood, and as he took a few quick steps forward, looking around for Zelda, for danger, for anything, Fi emerged from the sword to hover beside him.
“Master, I detect Zelda’s aura in the surrounding area, consistent with her having spent some amount of time here.” She drifted away, turning to face him as she did, passing backwards through the bars of the cage. “I detect an especially strong reaction from this chain. I calculate the probability Zelda was bound by it recently at 95%.”
“Then – then where-” Words failed him; he gestured mutely around, at the empty cage, at the dead lizards lying on the floor.
“It is apparent that she was able to escape her captivity. I detect the continuation of her aura in that direction,” said as she raised one elegant arm to gesture, “and estimate that you are now less than 30 minutes behind her.”
“How…” Link shook his head: it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but that he catch up – and he very nearly had.
Notes:
Whew! I pushed that one to the limit. I hope it doesn’t show…
Patch Notes:
- Cage present in level no longer contains bomb flowers and instead contains actual prisoner.
- Chains removed from nonsensical patch of open floor and placed inside cage.
- Said cage moved for plot convenience reasons. It would be awkward to have it in the main hall.
- Ledd’s subplot events reversed for coherency and sense in life-or-death situation.
- Ledd’s plot-drop that Zelda is a prisoner moved to more impactful location.
- Evidence of prison break now present.
- Lizalfos given demonic origin story separate to bokoblins and moblins, to suit their respective intelligences and natures.
- Subtle plot threads interwoven…
Chapter 31: Scaldera
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link had ducked into a narrow, winding passage that seemed really no more than a natural crack in the rock given a rough floor. In places it was only just wide enough for him to walk along, one hand on the wall as he looked down at the uneven ground below him, rubble that tilted beneath his feet. The subtle yet insistent sense of Zelda’s direction called him on, however much the ground beneath him threatened to betray him.
Eventually he’d escaped the tight, twisting passage, its fractured path leading into another room off the main hall proper, with a staircase leading up to what Link guessed would be a balcony, and a dead lizard, sprawled on the floor with one of its eyes a bloody ruin. He’d skirted the corpse cautiously, pushing the door open to find himself back in the opposite end of the hall to the one he’d come in by.
The torches that had been lit at this end seemed to have gone out. Guided by Fi and the light of his lantern, Link made his way along the end wall to what proved to be a flight of steep stairs, leading up to a door set halfway up the back wall, leaning forward strangely at its top. Link looked it up and down dubiously as a trickle of dust spilled from one edge of the gap, and all at once that soft chime sounded in his mind as Fi sprang from the blade beside him.
“A report, Master.”
Link looked around at her, listening with part of his attention to the faint, echoing sounds further back in the huge hall.
“I detect a recent rockfall upon the other side of this door. My analysis suggests a 95% probability that it was deliberately caused as a barricade to prevent pursuit.”
But we have to get through there! Link frowned, dropping his hand to Ledd’s bomb bag. He’d found a few more of the explosive flowers along the way; picked them against future need despite the fact that carrying them made him feel decidedly uneasy. “Do you think I can use these, like before?”
“I predict that they will be effective, Master. However, the sound will be likely to draw hostile attention. You will need to move quickly once the bombs have detonated.”
“I understand.”
Fi returned to the sword as Link took a deep breath, studying the door ahead of him. He couldn’t be sure how large the rockfall was, how much debris lay on the other side.
I’ll use two, he decided, reaching into the bag – it clung strangely to his hand, as if it were a glove despite its shapelessness – and cautiously taking out a bomb flower. It sat in his hand silently, inert, and Link knelt to gently, gently lay it down at the base of the door, thanking the goddess in the back of his mind as it remained silent.
The next one would be harder. He sheathed the Goddess Sword before withdrawing another bomb, just as carefully as the one before. This one he hefted in his left hand, looking up. He’d only get one shot…
Bracing himself, he leapt as high as he could, tossing the bomb flower overhand at the apex of his jump, hearing that frightening hissing; seeing it vanish into the gap as he hit ground again; hearing what might have been the sound of it rolling as he spun around and leapt from the stairs, hitting the ground hard and rolling to take some of the shock from the fall as well as get further away, faster; scrambling another couple of paces on hands and knees before huddling down, hands over his ears.
In the vast hall, the explosion and its echoes were deafening. Tiny fragments of rock rained down on Link, clattering off the shield on his back; pattering against his hands. Nothing hit with any real force, the stairs shielding him as he had hoped, and as soon as the sounds seemed reduced to echoes he got back to his feet, jumping up to haul himself onto the thankfully railingless stairs.
Everything seemed muffled beyond the ringing in his ears as he ran to the doorway, footsteps on the ground and breath that should have been loud in his ears oddly silent. It gaped open, a ragged opening with a small pile of rubble at its base, rocks blasted in all directions.
Master, Fi said, her unheard voice the only thing that ‘sounded’ normal, I detect a number of the demonic lizards advancing towards this location. In order to avoid a battle in which you are significantly outnumbered, I suggest that we continue with all possible speed.
“You said it,” Link whispered, or thought he did, scrambling over the rubble. The hall beyond sloped steeply upwards, alcoves on either side holding broken remnants that might once have been statues, and he dashed up the slope without looking back. A corner loomed ahead of him, the only respite from the steep climb, and he hurled himself around it, thinking as he did that he could just about hear the lizards’ strange shrieks echoing from somewhere behind him.
A crash and a rumble echoed in his ears and through his feet, and in the dim half-light beyond his lantern’s radius Link saw motion like a rolling cloud that all at once coalesced into a series of rolling boulders, tumbling and scraping down the steep slope, partially silhouetted against another flickering light behind them, even the least of them over half his height across. With barely a moment to think, he threw himself into one of the alcoves, pressing himself flat to its back as the rocks tumbled by, dust and stone chips struck from the floor by their passage. More shrieks sounded from somewhere below, and Link hoped that had been the falling rocks hitting the lizards that were chasing him. He edged forward to peer cautiously out: there were no more tumbling rocks, and the light he’d thought he’d seen for an instant – was it there? He squinted into the gloom: yes, it… it was there, but fading.
“Do you see that, Fi?” he whispered.
I perceive the light source, Master. I detect a single demonic lizard, retreating at speed. I deduce that there is a side passage joining this ascent. It is 90% probable that this lizard was the cause of the rockfall.
“Huh…” So it sprang a trap on us, and now it’s running away, Link thought. Well, as long as it stayed away, he had no interest in chasing it. If anything, if the rocks had hit the lizards chasing him, it had probably done him an unintended favour.
Thinking of his pursuers spurred him on, and he sprinted up the slope, hoping to put as much distance between them and him as he could. Finally reaching a level area, he stopped, panting, for a moment before crossing hastily to the door on the far side, setting his shoulder to it and heaving it open. A hot wind rushed through the gap, sticking strands of hair to his already sweaty face, and as Link slipped through, the heavy door beginning to grate ponderously closed behind him, he realised that he had stepped outside. He was standing on a ledge in a deep ravine, ominous dark smoke tinged with red from beneath all that could be seen high above, a single steep stone bridge extending implausibly across the gap to a huge, chipped, ash-stained dragon head on the far side.
A chill ran down his spine in the instant before Fi spoke, tonelessly rapid and clipped, so unlike her usual musical inflection that Link knew what she would say even before she had finished saying it.
Master Link, I detect the aura of the demon Ghirahim.
Link snatched the Goddess Sword from its scabbard, unslinging the shield from his back only fractionally slower. The heavy thud of the door closing behind him made him jump, but he didn’t spare even a moment to glance back at it, all his attention focused on the steep bridge and the dragon’s head, searching for- there! A paler shape moved atop the ancient carved rock, and even across the full width of the ravine Link recognised Ghirahim, sauntering forward and stopping with hands on his hips, looking down at him. Some trick of the wind, or of his power, carried his words to Link across the ravine and the rumbling of the volcano and the fading ringing in his ears.
“Oh, it’s you.”
Link stared back at him, shield up defensively, and felt a cold shock as the demon met his eyes, the intensity of it utterly at odds with his lazily mocking voice.
“Let me see… No, that’s not it. This is so very embarrassing, but I seem to be at a loss for your name.”
The weight of his gaze seemed to slide ever so slightly off Link. Was he looking at the sword in his hand? He began to edge carefully up the slope, step by terrifying step.
“Not that it matters, really. To tell you the truth, I’m feeling a bit frustrated, and right now I just need someone to vent to.” He gestured dramatically with his right hand, tossing the fall of white hair back from his face, jagged red cape blowing in the volcanic wind, only to end with hand to his heart, head bowed. “I learnt my underlings had finally captured the spirit maiden, so of course I rushed over here. What can I say? I was excited. Flustered, even…” Somehow, the conversational, almost confessional tone seemed even more cruelly taunting in its unwanted and unwelcome intimacy. “But what did I find when I arrived? That agent of the goddess…”
Ghirahim’s voice dropped to the point that it should have been impossible for Link to hear it, though it sounded in his ears as clearly as if the demon lord stood only a pace from him. “She had once again…” The full weight of his attention fell back onto Link as he continued to murmur. “You see, what I’m trying to say is…”
Abruptly the demon flung his hands wide, clenched momentarily into fists only to fly open again at the end of the motion and shouting in a voice that echoed about the ravine. “That goddess-serving dog escaped with the girl!”
Despite the weight of the demon’s stare, a sudden burst of hope washed across Link’s heart. Breathing deeply, Ghirahim drew his right hand back to his chest.
“I must have the spirit maiden! I must have her!”
The echoes of his voice bounced around the chasm, only slowly dying away as he straightened once again.
“… I got a little carried away there, didn’t I? I don’t deal well with… complications to plans I’ve laid out so carefully. It’s a character flaw of mine.” Ghirahim leant forwards. “Ah, but something good can still come from this day! I’ve had all this bottled-up anger smouldering inside me, and now I can release it.” Once more, his tone had turned lazily, mockingly cruel. “Of course, you still don’t understand that sort of thing, but perhaps all this experience will be good for you. Now, there’s someone special I’d like you to meet. Oh, don’t be shy! I need to vent all this unhealthy anger, and the thought of your agony will be such a great stress reliever.”
Straightening again, Ghirahim looked Link in the eye, a malicious smile curving his white lips. “I doubt it will take more than a few moments with my friend before you’re charred to a satisfying crisp. And let me tell you, that will put a spring in my step!” Again, his attention seemed to shift subtly. “Next time you find a new wielder, do pick one a little less… delightfully flammable.”
Smirking, Ghirahim raised his hand above his head, snapped his fingers – and vanished in a scatter of diamond shards. Link looked around wildly, remembering the last time he had used that trick to appear behind him, but the demon was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a rock seemed to rise from the depths of the ravine, hovering almost lazily above the top of the bridge before suddenly dropping with a tremendous crash that felt as though it would break the entire thing. On the steep slope, it began to roll inexorably towards him, picking up speed deceptively fast! Link spun around, diving desperately for the edge of the bridge: the door was shut and far too far away! He barely stopped himself from going over the edge, looking down and down into a ribbon of sluggish lava far below as it rumbled inexorably past, slamming into the rock wall at the end of the bridge with such force that cracks spidered across both wall and boulder. Link pushed himself to his knees – and froze.
Jets of lava gouted out from the cracks in the boulder, but instead of falling they somehow remained straight, almost solid. Before his disbelieving eyes, they folded like a spider’s legs, planting themselves solidly on the bridge and raising the shattered boulder high. It split almost in half to roar, all mouth, all yellow-orange lava with implausible stalagmite teeth, and Link slowly rose to his feet, bracing himself. Whatever this thing was, it was clear he had no choice but to somehow fight it.
“Fi?” he whispered, backing up the sloping bridge step by step. Her reply was swift – far swifter than she could have spoken – but musically fluid once again. Had Ghirahim gone?
I categorise this demon as a Pyroclastic Fiend. It is a ball of molten rock imbued with demonic power, sufficient to grant it a rudimentary intelligence and a relentless hunger. It is able to cool the outer layers of its substance to act as a form of crude armour; however, its existence depends upon the integrity of its molten core. It has formed a single eye to perceive the world around it in its search for beings to consume. Master, I calculate the probability that my power will slay the demon if you are able to strike the eye at 100%.
Strike the eye, thought Link. Got it. He stared at the crusted ball of molten rock, forcing fear and the threat of panic to the back of his mind. Something seemed to float behind two of the congealed plates, but he wasn’t at all sure that he could drive the blade home through the tiny gap unless the demon held perfectly still.
Even as he thought that, it started towards him, ungainly yet scuttling with an unsettling speed. He backed up as fast as he dared, acting half on instinct as he delved into Ledd’s bomb bag once again, snatching out one of the deceptive blue bulbs and tossing it frantically at the demon! The bomb flower hit its outer shell and instantly exploded, knocking the thing from its spindly legs and sending it rolling back down the bridge. Heartened by this unexpectedly rapid success, Link took several steps downhill – only to see it righting itself, seemingly completely unharmed by the blast. He’d knocked it back, but had he done anything else to it at all?!
As the lava fiend advanced on him once again, Link backed away faster still, retreating to the very top of the bridge. A quick glance behind him showed him a golden door, just like the one he’d seen barring his way to Skyview Spring. Did that mean that Zelda was safe behind it? He looked around desperately for any other opportunities: the ledge was wide enough that he might be able to dodge around the demon, but there was nothing-
A heat haze shimmered above the monster as it hauled itself to the top of the sloping bridge, pausing just before the flat with a single baleful glint reflected from its hidden eye. Link reached for another bomb flower, frantically trying to remember how many he’d picked up: were there three left? Or only two? He was out of options and out of time: the demon opened its whole body wide into a gaping maw that spilled forth blistering heat, and somehow began to inhale, a raging funnel of hot wind that seemed blissfully cool tugging at Link’s clothes, tugging at him, threatening to yank him from his feet-
Link let go of the bomb in his hand, releasing it to fly through the air as he tried to drop to the ground while still keeping his feet set against the relentless gale, strong as the storms that could sweep the incautious from the edge of islands and woe betide them if their loftwing wasn’t near. He was sliding, fingers pressed into frantic claws against the stone – and then, suddenly, with a crashing explosion followed by a shuddering, rolling rumble, the wind stopped, so suddenly that Link fell on his face. He shot back to his feet at once, turning to see the demon rolling down the bridge, hitting the far side with another tremendous impact that shook the ground beneath his feet. This time, as it uncurled, Link could see that several of the rocky plates covering it were missing; could see the almost watery-looking eye slide into view and dart away again. The fiend trembled for a moment, not getting up immediately, and Link took a pace forward, then another – only for it to hoist itself back to its feet with a bone-shaking roar, exposed lava glowing almost white-hot.
“Come and get me!” Link yelled, raising his sword to the sky in challenge, feeling power flood through it, feeling a moment of
-desperate determination stronger than life itself-
or perhaps an echo of his own. It was ridiculous, it was insane, he was banking on it trying to eat him and if it so much as brushed against him even once he’d probably be burnt to a crisp just as Ghirahim had predicted, protection from the volcano’s heat nothing like enough to shield him from direct contact with its lava – but when it had eaten the bomb that flew from his hand it had hurt it, downed it for long enough that if he’d run down after it he’d have had a chance to strike!
Driven by hunger and hate, the demon charged the irresistible blaze of life and power before it, scuttling singlemindedly back up the slope it had so recently tumbled down, its one eye squinting balefully at Link, half-lidded by crusted rock. He pointed the shining blade of the Goddess Sword directly at it, fighting every natural impulse that bade him turn and run, sharp shallow breaths not feeling like enough. Thundering footsteps sending tremors through the bridge, it was suddenly almost on him, still coming, snapping at him as he leapt back and back again, so close he barely dared dart his right hand into the bomb bag and snatch out another deadly, precious flower. His own motion set it off: it was hissing, and as the lava fiend opened its mouth once again to snap at him he threw the bomb forwards and himself backwards as hard as he could in the same desperate motion! The bomb went off while he was still in the air, and burning heat scalded his hands, his face; he could have sworn he smelt hair burning in the instant before he hit ground flat on his back, knocking the wind from him, several paces further than the demon than he could possibly have jumped without a strong tailwind. It shuddered convulsively, lava half bursting from it only to be sucked back in – and collapsed.
Link forced himself back to his feet as the monster began to roll back down the slope, ponderous but picking up speed; forced himself to chase after it as fast as he could though his legs felt shaky and he was afraid he would trip on the steeply sloping bridge. He nearly did trip as the demon’s impact with the bottom wall shook the entire structure, several small rocks bouncing down from somewhere above, and for a moment, just like before, it stayed down, trembling, the eye rolled into almost complete visibility, and instead of slowing down Link sped up, almost unaware that he was yelling as he struck, using the impact of the Goddess Sword itself to stop his uncontrollable run as it sank into the watery eyeball up to the hilt! The demon jolted, stiffened; Link threw his weight back with all his might to pull the sword free, succeeding just in time as it opened its mouth and roared in what sounded like agony, unbearably hot air scorching his skin a second time as he lay on his back, trying frantically after a half-stunned moment to pull himself away. The six legs flailed around frantically, jerkily, before juddering convulsively inwards like a dying spider, and the lava of its body began to darken, cooling, cracking, at the same time beginning to lose shape and spread out into a congealing pool.
“Fi…” Link breathed. He almost couldn’t believe they’d done it. Abruptly looking at the sword, he saw with relief that it was unmarred by its experience, palely shining metal unmarked even by the faintest tinge of heat.
He rolled over, forcing himself back to his feet, and started somewhat shakily back up the slope, towards the door, leaving the remains of the demon Ghirahim had summoned behind him. Ghirahim himself had left, and all he could do as he wearily raised the sword once more…
-looking upon a closed door and hesitating before opening it to step into the light beyond-
…was hope that this time, Zelda was still there on the other side.
He touched the sword to the door, and it dissolved into light.
Notes:
What ho chaps, it’s a chapter! And only a… good few hours later than usual… sigh. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!
Patch Notes:
- Magma still removed; levitating magma bridge replaced with narrow winding path. I repeat the phrase levitating magma bridge. Over an endless drop. Just Say No.
- Ball-rolling giant button-pressing puzzle in magma also removed. After that thing’s rolled over once in the magma, I don’t want to think what it would do to Link’s feet! And what non-Goron makes a button it would take at least two Gorons to press anyway?
- Rolling boulder trap given actual activation mechanism.
- Weird rolling-boulder-train-track-spine that rolls boulders uphill removed. The temple’s builders are unlikely to have needed such a mechanism.
- Slightly amusing easy boss in game terms rendered clearly dangerous and actively frightening.
- Giant internal chasm on the edge of the volcano now giant external chasm on the edge of the volcano.
- Ghirahim continues to talk to Fi.
- Ghirahim no longer pauses to plotdrop his end goal in the middle of an angry rant.
Chapter 32: Screams
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The mountain was screaming.
Zelda didn’t know why she had thought that, staring up at the impossibly tall slopes rising towering ahead of her, red-orange rivers trickling their slow way down its sides. She’d never seen anything like it before, no she hadn’t, though she’d come across the geology, but she had, she’d passed over it many times, calm and quiet until the shadow of evil came. Molten rock spat from the depths of the earth, clawing futilely at sky and land, a violent fury triggered by the miasma of evil.
She put both hands over her mouth, and tried to control her breathing. How did she know these things? Her mind skated away from it in broken fragments. The only constant was that she had to press on. It had kept her going since in some unknowable way she couldn’t quite remember she had transported herself from the spring; had found shelter for the night and walked a full day and found shelter again to awaken under this dull and lowering ash-stained sky, clouded with the tears of the volcano.
This was not helping her.
Zelda lowered her hands slowly, clenching them both into fists. She had to go on, had to, barely even the illusion of a choice. She’d reach the second spring, and then… and then the confusion of her mind would be quieted, would be clarity. She couldn’t wait lest the evil that hunted her, hungered for her found her, or worse, found him.
She started forwards again, picking her careful way through the blanket of ash scattered across charred and splintered stumps. Fire had raged here, recently: the slow-moving tongue of lava to her left told her the other half of the story. Ash stirring around her with every step, Zelda trudged up the steadily steepening slope, using the lava flow as her guide.
* * *
The strip of rock between rivers of lava had narrowed, and narrowed, until at last Zelda had reached its end. A huge river of lava rolled inexorably down from above her, splitting into two at the cone and parting around it, leaving her stranded with no way to press on. She couldn’t let that stop her, couldn’t let anything stop her, and she continued forwards, hoping that she would see something useful from the top of the cone.
The dark crack in its side offered her a convenient way up the last and hardest part of the ascent, but as she reached it and peered in, she realised that it might show her something more. There was light at the other end, another end far too close by for the cone to be anything but hollow, and the faint flows of the air told her that it was an old, cold chimney; something in her awareness shifted and she knew it extended far below.
It wasn’t full of lava, and that meant the passages had to pass under the lava rivers safely. Could she do it? Could she get down there? Careful, feeling cautiously for every handhold, Zelda edged through the crack, tripping over her own imprecations as her dress snagged on something and she muttered a curse against it.
“By the goddess-”
It felt like cursing by her own name.
She shuddered and shook her head, trying to force the strange feeling back into the back of her mind along with everything else. She wanted to see beyond the horizon, she wanted to protect all that was her own. She wanted to go home, she wanted to see her father, and home was endlessly repeating centuries away and her father was long lost in them and she had never had a father and only if she climbed this mountain could she go home.
Everything agreed on that. Only if she climbed this mountain could she go home. Some kind of duty lay ahead of her, half-glimpsed and half-forgotten, looming over her like a storm that had broken upon her and she a loftwing trying with all her might to keep clear of its winds and lightning when she knew with every beat of her wings that she could not escape it.
Up the mountain, then. It’s my duty. I want to go home. I have to go up the mountain. I have to keep moving.
Zelda took a deep breath, and did not notice the unconscious touch of power that cleansed ash and dust and soot from it. She forced herself to unclench her hands, to move on another few steps, until she could peer out of the far end of the crack into a vertical shaft, almost perfectly cylindrical with a flat floor far below.
Somehow, it seemed perfectly natural to step out of the crack in the rock and simply float down, fly down, as if borne on great wings outspread, though her loftwing was so achingly far away. Her feet lightly touched the ground, and she looked around, then up. She’d… had she really…? The impossible felt natural, and her thoughts spun, and Zelda shook her head as if she could shake it all loose and forced herself to focus only on the dark passage that was her way out. There was evil down there, cloying, hungering, but she was armed and if she knew it was there then she hoped she could avoid it.
A faint light bloomed at her back as she stepped into the darkness, sword in her hand.
* * *
She had picked her way carefully through dark passageways, turned aside and hidden from vile wandering bokoblins where she had to, half-leapt and half-flown up vertical drops where she must. Some had been crusted with dribbling rock like a waterfall turned to stone; some were mere cracks where rock had sheared and snapped and left a cleft connecting one passage to another. Following her feelings, she had pressed on, onward and upwards until at long, long last a light neither her own nor the flickering of fire beckoned palely before her. Shining down from above at something of an angle, it offered a way out of the caves that she took without thinking, lofting herself into the air as if on a great, slow wingbeat, landing in dirty ash-stained daylight on the ground above.
She was in what had once been a shallow cave, riven through its centre by the crack she had ascended from, and the outside was no more than three steps away. Zelda took those steps, cautiously, looking around for danger as she stepped out, but – other than the ever-present threat of the volcano itself – nothing seemed immediately visible. Taking a deep breath, still without fully realising how the hot and ashen air of the volcano should have choked it, she carried on, following the easiest route around the base of a rocky outcrop.
Once again, the path ended before her. Whatever had split the rock open in ages past, another deep and sharp-sided chasm barred her way, heat rising from lava flowing far below. Zelda looked left, then right, but saw no easy way across.
The gap was narrowest directly in front of her, far narrower than the wide lava river that had barred her path before, and she could let nothing stop her. Steeling herself, she walked to the edge and let herself fly. Fly, float, drift: she arced slowly and gracefully across the gap and landed on the other side.
It was only when she turned to look back that cold reality hit her once again, trickling down her back like ice water in her bones. She had just stepped… flown… across a river of molten rock, across a gap she could never have jumped, without a second thought. What was happening to her? What was she becoming?
Zelda hugged herself tight despite the baking air of the volcano, gripping her own waist with shaking hands through the thick fabric of her bleached dress. Things she had seen and hadn’t seen, things she could only half remember, pinwheeled through her mind like a bird flying out of control. How could she be doing this? How could she even be here on the surface, below the clouds, her home out of reach and her thoughts of it scattering like clouds in the wind? How could she know that Link was here coming for her – know that he would fight for her – ask him to die for her – and not wait for him?
“I won’t,” she said aloud to the gritty breeze. “I won’t! I won’t ask him – I would never ask him to-”
But she had, or some part of her thought she had, knew she had. Some part of her had counted up her choices and thought them worth the cost, some part of her had-
She pressed her hands to her face, refusing to believe it. She hadn’t, she hadn’t done that, she’d left, fled so that the demon that hunted her would follow her and leave him. The demon had no interest in her friend who bore a sword she ought to know; he would have, must have, left him, wouldn’t he? He was a terrible thing, an evil thing, a monster that would kill for the twisted fun of it, but she’d known then, in the spring when she had felt that she knew more, when it had all seemed to make sense, that he would leave if she did. She had to have been right, didn’t she? She had to believe it, or what else was there?
Choking back a sob, she forced herself to straighten, scrubbing the tears from her cheeks with shaking hands. She had to focus, had to keep moving. From this side of the ravine, she had a better view down the mountain, and she looked that way to see how far she had come. Scanning the slopes below, her searching gaze flitted over the ridges and dips of the volcano’s sharp, lava-streaked side. Was that the shaft she had climbed (flown) down? If it was, she had come a long way. A long way, but there was still much further to go. Turning around, Zelda set her face to the steep upper slopes, and continued to climb.
* * *
The higher she got, the more bokoblins there seemed to be, as if something malicious had scattered them in her path. More than once she was forced to hide from them, or dart across slopes when they weren’t looking; once, as she scrambled desperately up a steep slope of rock shards that shifted and slid beneath her feet, one had seen her from the top and squealed with vile glee. It had vanished in the next moment, and confusion had touched her thoughts as she forced herself to keep climbing as fast as she could in the shattered stone.
The bokoblin had returned when she was barely three-quarters of the way up, hefting a frighteningly large boulder above its piggy head on strong arms that wavered with the weight even so. Zelda’s eyes widened in horrible realisation a moment before it hefted the boulder forward with a straining grunt, more letting it go than throwing it, shrieking and dancing a little jig as the boulder crashed down onto the slope, spilling smaller rocks in its wake. All at once it was a landslide, the little stones slipping over one another with dry rushing scrapes that together sounded like what Zelda could only imagine as an island shaking itself apart. Exposed before it with barely a moment to think, let alone act, she froze, some instinct taking over as her conscious mind stared death in the face.
Rock rained and slid around her, bounced off a shimmering golden haze bare inches from her face. The loose rock under her hands and knees remained perfectly still despite the vibrations trembling through her bones, and she felt the countless impacts on the shield like a kind of pressure on her mind, on her power. It didn’t feel like a very strong shield, or like one that was taking much effort, and that was ridiculous: as she stared forwards in terrified frozen disbelief she could see the rock rising around her like a wave, waist-height, higher, falling again as the body of the landslide passed her by, until the sounds came only from below and all that was left where she crouched was Zelda herself perched on a small mound of tumbled stones.
She could have crouched there for hours, petrified, her mind refusing to process what had just happened, if the same deep instinct that had raised the shield hadn’t lowered it again. Her protective cage gone, the rocks she stood on, suddenly unsupported, spilled free, throwing her into lurching motion as they belatedly followed their fellows down the almost bare slope, and Zelda scrambled up towards the promise of safety with desperate sobbing breaths, pulling herself up at last onto the ledge the bokoblin had looked down at her from. It was still there, staring at her for a moment with shock in its evil squinting eyes, and as it fumbled for its crude notched sword, Zelda forced strength born of terror and relief and anger into her limbs, whipping her own sword from its sheath in a fluid lunge and striking before her foe had quite freed its blade! Her attack cut fatally deep, the bokoblin dead almost before it hit the ground, only a weak and fading squeak escaping it as it fell, the sound almost drowned by the rumbling of the mountain.
Shaking, Zelda wiped off her sword and looked around. She couldn’t see any others, but over a nearby rock she could see what looked like the top of a crude structure, and she could sense a faint miasma of evil cloaking everything. There were more here, almost certainly, and if there were, she couldn’t risk leaving the body where they would find it.
Though her stomach turned at the thought, Zelda sheathed her sword and bent down, gripping the stinking bokoblin corpse by its wrist. It lolled horribly as she dragged it to the edge, half tugging, half pushing it down onto the slope below to tumble and roll sickeningly like a broken doll breaking still further until it landed in a crumpled heap on the rocks far below. Let them think it had died in the landslide it had started.
She turned back, kicking ash and pebbles over the streak of blood it had left behind, and moved on.
* * *
Zelda pulled herself up to the top of another ridge and paused still kneeling, staring at the sight ahead. Some ancient edifice had been constructed from and into the very rock of the mountain, a once-ornate wall (did she remember it as it was or only imagine it?) with its grand pillars cracked and reliefs obscured, great doors standing closed. It was the Earth Temple, she knew it as if she recognised it, built into what had once been a cavern that led to the inaccessible spring on the volcano’s very slopes. She was almost there.
Zelda looked around, checking for danger. She could sense the taint of evil, spilling out from the temple as well as more generally around the mountain, and as she listened, her sharp ears caught an ugly chittering. There were bokoblins very nearby, somewhere off to her left by the sound of it. Cautiously, barely daring to breathe, she crept forwards, sheltering behind an ash-stained pillar to peer around the break in the rocks to her left.
There were bokoblins: two, no, three of the awful things, grunting and chittering at one another, waving their crude clubs and swords as if they were arguing. Zelda hoped they were, hoped they stayed fixated on each other. If she could only find some way to distract them…
Never taking her eyes from the three bokoblins, Zelda let herself slide down the pillar into a kneel, sword-hilt gripped in her right hand, feeling around on the ground with her left. A large stone soon offered itself, fitting snugly into her palm, and she dared to rise again, hefting it, preparing herself. She would only get one shot.
The bokoblins shrieked and shook their weapons, two on one, and all her held tension uncoiled, arm unwinding in an overarm throw, lofting the rock high – over the boulders, and that was the most important bit, flattening herself to the pillar and relying only on her ears as it clattered satisfyingly down the rock on the other side. The shrieking turned to grunts of dim puzzlement and curiosity, and as Zelda dared lean far enough to see past the pillar with one eye, she saw that they had taken the bait, trotting towards the sound on their stubby legs.
She almost froze. She almost couldn’t do it. But the fear of what would happen if she waited was stronger than the fear of what would happen if one happened to look the wrong way, and she ran on light feet to the doors, pulling one with all her strength in frantic haste as it grated across the ground. She cringed, but dared not stop, certain that the bokoblins would have heard, desperately dragging it open just far enough to slip through, ignoring the wash of air – hot air – billowing out from below as she forced herself through a gap barely wide enough to admit her, yanking on the door from the inside to close it faster without even pausing to look back.
The door shut behind her, and she was at the top of a long flight of stairs, alone. She’d done it.
It should have been pitch darkness, but once again a half-subconscious thought kindled a golden radiance at her back. One hand on her sword, Zelda descended the stairs, bearing her own light with her.
The evil in the temple seemed to pulse in her ears, though it was silent other than her footsteps. Before long, she had reached the bottom of the stairs and the first great hall, her light showing the high old ceiling cracked and the once-great statues broken to unrecognisability. As she took her first cautious step into the silent, still hall, she glanced to her left – and almost directly into the slavering face of a bokoblin! It shrieked with a vicious hunger as she leapt back, drawing her sword with a hand that felt nerveless on the hilt: there wasn’t just one bokoblin, but ten, maybe more, and-
There was an explosion of pain at the back of her head, and then there was only blackness.
Notes:
I swear I had a good reason for being this late to post! Sorry, all the same.
Patch Notes:
- Half-memories of past lives spilling into the mind now cause notable mental problems as expected.
- Zelda given partial access to suitable divine powers per partial past-life memories.
- Knight Academy student with half-memories of being a deity no longer moves like frightened mouse.
- Ambush that could capture lone Knight Academy student created; successfully does so.
Chapter 33: Chains of Metal
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Her head hurt. Something cold and hard pressed against her face. As her senses reasserted themselves, she realised she could hear squealing and grunting. Something was grasping her wrist-
Zelda gasped, forcing her eyes open, head spinning as she twitched in sudden wakefulness. It was dark, lit only by flickering torchlight; the shadows danced over the slavering face of a bokoblin bent over her, gripping her arm. Brutishly malicious piggy eyes turned to her, and it chittered, spraying hot saliva over her. She shrank back, but there were more of the creatures everywhere she looked; doubtless they were behind her too, though she couldn’t get her hands underneath her to push herself up while it still gripped her wrist. A peremptory squeal cut through the noise, and another pair of pudgy hands grabbed her other arm.
Before Zelda quite realised what they intended, they were moving, lifting her with frightening ease and dragging her painfully across the cold stone floor. For a moment she could only think that they were taking her away to cook and eat, and she struggled against their grip, reaching helplessly for powers she didn’t understand, powers that weren’t her own and that she only half-remembered she’d had past the spinning in her skull. There was nothing there, it was out of her reach, and the bokoblin holding her right wrist screeched at her threateningly. She subsided, letting them drag her, knees scraping across the rock through her dress. She had to look for a chance, any chance. Her sword – where was it? It had fallen from her hand, had they-?
Zelda forced herself not to twist in her captors’ grip, to turn her head only slightly and look around herself through the hair that fell about her face. Some of the bokoblins had crude, chipped blades, others rough, heavy clubs, the torchlight flickering across them all rendering them even more grotesque than they already were. A shrill squeal rang out, and they shambled to a stop; Zelda abandoned her search for her missing sword to raise her head, peering forwards.
The bokoblins had halted over a wingspan from the end wall, its centre filled with a piecemeal barricade of metal and wood. One, standing slightly in front of the others, held out a horn, spat on the floor, then blew into it, the slightly off-key note setting Zelda’s teeth on edge. It paused, then blew again, a long sour note followed by a short blurt and then silence.
Somewhere, a sound like a squeaking wheel began, and the entire barricade shuddered before slowly, slowly lowering down, suspended on two ropes. The bokoblin with the horn danced backwards a couple of paces shortly before it thumped heavily into the ground where the creature had been standing, and a taller figure began to advance along it from the other side.
Zelda had managed to get her knees under her as the drawbridge-like barricade had descended, the bokoblins’ attention largely on it. For a moment she thought of trying to pull herself away from their hateful grip, of launching herself forward into the open space and trying to run, but she spent a breath longer than she should have trying to work out if she would stand a chance if she did and the moment was lost.
The creature that prowled up to her was a kind of twisted lizard, nothing she recognised, standing taller than either she or the bokoblins. It bent down, bonelessly flexible, and lifted the hair from her face with a scaled, taloned hand.
“Get off me!” Zelda spat, throwing herself backwards in fear and panic. She could feel the evil of the lizard-thing, just as she could feel it in the bokoblins holding her; could feel it filling the temple, its sickening taint overwhelming enough that she hadn’t noticed the bokoblins waiting in ambush until it was too late. The bokoblins grunted as she fought against them, but held, bracing their feet against the stone floor, and the lizard ahead of her opened its mouth and shuddered in what looked like a silent parody of a laugh. Something prodded her in the ribs, hard and uncomfortable; she flinched away, twisting in her struggle to see what it was, and realised it was one of those dulled, notched blades, streaked with rust and some dried fluid. Zelda froze, panting with exertion, the naked threat chilling her into stillness.
The lizard and the bokoblin that had blown the horn were hissing and squealing at one another, posturing, confrontational but not murderously so. Zelda looked back at them, helpless as her fate was decided, listening to the indecipherable noises until one sound in particular caught her ear, halfway through the lizard’s hisses and half-squawks.
“Ghiiraheem”
The sound of that name while she was captured and helpless turned her legs to water. She barely noticed the lizard advancing on her again – Ghirahim’s name seemed to have been part of whatever sounds concluded their confrontation – until it was too late, sickening horror yawning wide at the bottom of her mind. Ghirahim, something that though she couldn’t remember the details she associated with an evil blacker than any nightmare.
Only the cold of rough-forged iron locking around her wrist broke her from the grip of terror, and then it was to face a reality little better. The bokoblins released her as the lizard-creature locked its other manacle around her other wrist, a few short links of chain connecting the two and a third, longer chain branching from the middle. The lizard held the chain’s other end wrapped in a lazy loop about its right forearm, the left one all but invisible behind a heavy metal shield. It stepped back from her, then tugged the chain in unmistakeable command; when Zelda resisted, it raised its heavy-gauntleted left hand as if to slap her – a blow that, with all the weight it was carrying, would be more likely to split her head open. Slowly, shaking in fear, she rose to her feet, and stumbled a few paces forwards when it tugged again. The motion seemed to satisfy the lizard, and it lowered its armoured hand, snapping something fast over its shoulder with lashing tail. Another lizard scurried out of the inner hall, approaching the bokoblins and taking something – slim gleaming metal; her sword – from one’s filthy hand, casually flourishing its spike-tipped tail in threat when the bokoblin shrieked in protest, cowing it into grunting subservience.
The lizard holding her chain turned its back and started towards the door, and Zelda could only stagger despairingly after it.
* * *
The lizards had dragged her through the side rooms of the temple, passing others of their kind twice, her captor leaving her no space to pause even when its companion had slowed down to place her sword on a crude shelf, or to exchange hisses with other lizards. Only when they reached a room that had had high bars emplaced in it from floor to ceiling to make a crude but effective cage did it stop, looking behind itself once at Zelda – her eyes wide with horrified realisation – and turning back to the cage to open a barred door. Utter panic seized her, and despite the chain she tried to flee, getting several steps further than she’d expected and for an insane giddy moment thinking that perhaps it had dropped the chain, only to be brought up brutally short: the lizard had let the loop of chain play out from its arm before yanking it viciously back, spinning her from her feet and into the air for an instant before she crashed to the floor, winded and dazed. She lay there for several moments before desperation drove her to force herself up onto her elbows, and only then did the lizard move again, tugging the chain to yank her arms out from under her and drag her face-down into the cell. Zelda lay limp as the chain rattled through something, as metal clunked heavily into place. The lizard hissed, then padded out on its bare scaly feet, and the door slammed shut.
Defeated and in pain, Zelda lay still for a while before dully opening her eyes. Her own arms blocked her view, and she took a slow, careful breath before gingerly trying to sit up, wincing as the ache of her bruises and scrapes stabbed through her. The chain had been passed through a sturdy loop of metal, and its end ran to another loop on the back wall, where it had been secured by the simple expedient of a metal peg thrust through its links. It would be simplicity itself to unhook it… if only the chain had been long enough for her to reach it at all. There was barely a foot of chain between her wrists and the metal loop in the floor: not even enough to let her stand up, only crawl a few hobbled steps like a captive animal; certainly not enough for her to reach the back wall. Outside the cage, a lizard stood guard, perhaps the same one or perhaps another, since two more loitered more casually on the far side of the room. Zelda looked away from them, feeling sick with fear and despair.
She’d had… powers. Couldn’t she use them? She was grasping at straws: with every moment it had seemed that something of whatever had happened at the spring had slipped away from her, and since the first blow to her head she’d lost it all, only dizzy spinning fragments left to her, none with any knowledge or sense to them. She’d flown, but she didn’t know how.
It’s your duty… you promised...
Tears trickled down her cheeks, unheeded. She was lost and confused, a child of Skyloft alone below the clouds’ shield, in a mythical land of demons, captured and defenceless and waiting to die. If she had ever been something else, she no longer remembered what it was.
* * *
Time had passed. Zelda didn’t know how much. Several times she had shaken herself out of her stupor, trying with all her might to think of some way to escape. If she lay flat with her arms at full stretch, she could reach the wall with her feet, but with the lizards standing menacing guard outside that was all she dared to do. For the most part, she sat or knelt, her head bowed.
Then something happened, something changed on the edge of her senses. Zelda looked up, reflexively drawing her hands closer, the clink of chain drawing the guarding lizard’s attention again. It looked at her, opened its mouth in a hiss – and the hiss became a gurgle as it fell, and Zelda stared stupidly at the discoloured blood spilling from its throat past a glint of metal. Beyond it, the other two leapt up with sharp surprised cries, raising their armoured arms protectively as they darted their heads from side to side in a search for the sudden, impossible danger. They put their backs to the wall just as Zelda herself might have, though they stayed apart from one another where she would have drawn together, tails lashing and striking sparks from the rock with their metal tips. The shadows in the room seemed denser, thicker, the light weaker, and Zelda felt danger, yet strangely no evil. A blur of motion wreathed in shadow, and another of the lizards fell, hands vainly reaching to its eye where something metal had embedded itself, and as the last one looked at its writhing ally, the motion in the shadows resolved at last into a tall, hard-faced woman who lashed out at it with incomparable speed while it was still turning back to face her. It began to block, began to whip its tail around at her, but she was simply too fast, too agile, hand on its armoured arm to vault up it and all but turning on her fingertips as she passed over its shoulder, a short but deadly sharp sword flashing down to cut deep into the side of its neck and end its life.
Just like that, the lizards were dead, and the hard-faced woman was standing tall outside the cell, looking in at Zelda. Like the old woman back at the temple she’d landed beside, Mahra Impa, she bore a tattoo of a weeping eye in red upon her forehead, another tear drawn in white beneath her left eye. Most of her white-blonde hair was cut short, only a single section left long and bound mercilessly into a tail that fell down the right side of her face. Her clothes were a dark shadow-blue, paler trim and subtle changes of colour breaking up the lines of her form, making her easy to lose in the shadows.
“You are the one called Zelda, are you not?” Her voice was gentle, a little deeper than Zelda had expected. Wordless, Zelda nodded.
“I am Impa of the Sheikah, and I am your servant.” The tall woman bowed deeply, hand over her heart. On her back, a pack came into view, its squarish bulk incongruous against the whipcord-thin lines of her body. “I have sought you since you fell, since Mahra Impa at the Temple of the Great Seal told me of your coming. I am sworn to aid you.” Her expression had softened as she spoke, and she stepped forwards, inspecting the cage door, then drawing back its bolt and pushing it open. Zelda watched, still stunned, as she crossed to her and knelt.
“You followed me all the way here?” Zelda finally whispered. “I’m so sorry.” Though she was thinking of the woman before her, another part of her mind thought of someone else just as undeserving who she had led into the same terrible danger. She was so, so sorry…
“It is an honour to be one who can serve you,” Impa said, her quiet voice soft. “I am owed no apology.” Thin, strong fingers closed on Zelda’s hand, lifting her wrist so that Impa could inspect the manacles. She took some bent metal rods from one of the several small, flat pouches she carried, and worked the lock for only a few seconds before it sprang open. Zelda let her do the same for her other hand before rubbing her wrists, almost crying in relief.
“Thank you…”
Impa smiled, standing and offering Zelda her hand. “You are most welcome, honoured Zelda.”
Zelda took the proffered hand, letting Impa help her to her feet. “I was… trying to reach a spring…” Words failed her. How could she explain what she no longer exactly knew herself? It felt like an imagining, some flight of fancy, except she knew it was not – and Impa merely nodded.
“I know. That is why I came to this place, because your path leads to the sacred waters.” Her severe face softened again, reassuring. “I know the way. We must move quickly, however. Danger will be descending on us as we speak.”
Zelda nodded, jerkily. “The lizards said – I heard one of them say Ghirahim.”
Impa’s face hardened to stone, not in anger but in iron resolve. “He will be seeking you. I have foiled him before, but we must be swift. Can you run behind me?”
She gave another nod, because nothing could be more important than escaping Ghirahim, and she would do anything she still knew how to get away from all the jagged darkness she could not quite remember that came with that name.
“Then stay close,” Impa bade her, and led her out of the cell.
* * *
It was clear that the Sheikah woman knew exactly where she was going. She led the way without pause or error, sticking to shadows that darkened around them both in magic so subtle Zelda doubted she could have sensed it at all before her fall. Twice some lizards crossed their path; both times the creatures were slain almost before they even knew they were being attacked. Impa moved like a dagger through silk, like silence and shadow, a knife on the wind, and almost before Zelda knew it they were out in the open again, crossing a stone bridge across a deep ravine to a small peak on the mountain’s shoulder. She could feel the spring calling to her, drawing her in, and as Impa slowed at last before the golden door, she reached out to it, brushing her dirty, bloodied fingertips across it and bidding it to open.
Just as the one before it had, it dissolved into golden light. With Impa at her shoulder, Zelda stepped through, and into the sanctity of the spring beyond.
Notes:
This was originally going to be a single chapter called “Chains”, but it got a little long…
Patch Notes:
- Lizalfos and bokoblins now interact like separate groups.
- Reason provided for Zelda not simply using divine powers to escape.
Chapter 34: Chains of Fate
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The door reformed behind Zelda as she walked slowly inside, Impa a silent pace behind her. Great columns rose beside her, cracked by the weight of ages, two broken altogether with their tumbled remains strewn upon the floor. Small waterfalls trickled down on either side of the stairs ahead, water flowing back underground to escape down the flank of the volcano. Zelda felt breathless, uncertain. Something strange hung over her, hovered around her, and her already slow pace slowed further still.
She placed one foot on the lowest stair.
The whisper of water falling down the cavern walls ahead seemed like a softly murmuring voice, a trapped echo that would never fade. Strangeness surrounded her, filled her. She had to know what those words would say, half-familiarity like something long forgotten. Like a dream, in which she might walk towards a casket in wonder and open it to see what lay within – like a dream, in which she might at the same time know that something terrible would come from it and yet be unable to change how the tale her sleeping mind told itself would go.
She was at the top of the stairs.
The water in the pool rippled gently, shimmering with a luminous glow that seemed to have nothing to do with the cracks in the rock ceiling above. The statue by the far wall gazed down on her, so like the one at the other spring, so like the one that gazed benevolently over Skyloft, and yet her recognition of it seemed older, deeper.
She thought it looked like a devoted but worried young mother, and it was as if she was seeing it for the first time after all, long ago and far away. She was fond of it, like a gift made with love and care, and it was as if she had seen it be raised and known it all the long years since. She had never been here before, never seen this statue before, never been on a volcano or even on the surface before, and she wanted to run away, to escape the nameless pressure of the silence all around her, but the strangeness had filled her.
She stood upon the edge of the water, and it was far, far too late.
She stepped in, and where she should have dropped into the water she merely floated gently down, feeling it close softly around her like light itself. It filled her, flooded her, shone into and through and from her as she lay floating on the surface of the water with her eyes open yet unseeing.
She was…
* * *
Impa waited, kneeling calmly at the top of the stairs, letting her reverence and awe flow through her without overwhelming her duty. She had taken the sacred one from her pack, heavily padded to withstand the rigours of the journey, and set it before her: a cunningly-crafted child’s toy cat with hinged joints, but one that moved and spoke as a living being. She, like Impa, watched the divine light rise, and play across the inside of the cave, and, at last, slowly fade.
The spirit maiden stood, and climbed from the waters, and Impa saw that she was clean and uninjured once more, her clothes purest white, her skin flawless, her hair gold as the sunlight, something too perfect to belong in this world.
“Para… Parasova?” she said, and her voice both was and was not the voice it had been before.
“Mistress!” The sacred one stood stiffly and made her way towards the spirit maiden with her strange gait, limping on all four legs at once as each joint seemed to have a slightly different stiffness and range of motion. Impa would normally have carried her, but it seemed disrespectful to interfere.
“Oh, Para…” The spirit maiden knelt and swept the sacred one up in her arms. “You waited for me all this time?”
“Of course, Mistress.” The maiden was close enough to hear the slight scraping as Para’s neck bent, looking her up and down. “And you are fortunate that I have spent the time preparing, or I wouldn’t have recognised you. You bear little more than a 60% resemblance to any of your previous appearances, but you do demonstrate an almost 97% correspondence to one of the extrapolations I created.”
Zelda – that was her name now – gave a laugh that was almost a sob, overjoyed to hear the little assistant’s childlike voice, slightly smug and edged with static from a deteriorated speaker. “You really waited for me.” Her eyes flicked beyond Parasova’s face and lit on Impa, still kneeling at the top of the stairs. “And the Sheikah, too…”
Impa bowed, still kneeling, and rose as Zelda set Parasova down and gestured to her. “It has always been our honour to serve you, Your Radiance.”
“Thank you, both of you… all of you.” Her words encompassed each one of the Sheikah for a thousand years, and Impa felt their truth.
Silence reigned for a few moments before Zelda, her senses unfolding beyond the edge of the spring, lifted her head with a sharp intake of breath.
“Ghirahim is here.”
Impa turned to face the door at once, but Zelda spoke again.
“He’s testing the defences. I think he senses I have awakened.” Light bloomed behind her as she gestured, up and around and down, a faint golden shimmer sweeping through the rock around them. “He isn’t attacking directly.” She frowned. “What has he done? This is not… not what we planned. Is it?” Her memories faded at the key, terrible point, and she felt too new, too fragile, to risk pressing them.
“No, Mistress,” Parasova told her, still and stiff with her head angled back where once she would have been in motion. “Ghirahim has remained active and in command of the demonic forces to the present day. He has additionally supplemented their ranks with new creations of his own, which,” she added slightly grumpily, “I suppose goes to show he’s smarter than we predicted. Although the Sheikah counter him when possible, he has remained a frequently excellent, if increasingly erratic, commander. The seal that you emplaced over Demise has consistently been his primary target.” Her head tilted slightly with a subtle clicking of ancient, worn gears. “If he killed you, the seal would be broken.”
Zelda lifted her hand to her heart, feeling the truth of it, feeling her own distant power like a faraway echo. She felt Ghirahim too, still, just the other side of her shield, and she felt-
Her resolve flickered; she stiffened, her hand falling. She felt her own sword, her Chosen – she felt her friend, a thousand little memories sleeting through her mind, and her sense of self wavered-
“Your Radiance?” Impa asked anxiously. The familiar title cut through the memories, gave her the grounding she needed to push them aside. There was no time for her to be the young mortal from Skyloft, younger even than dear Saina had been: she needed herself full, whole, and in control.
“I… I am well, Impa.” Zelda breathed out slowly, centring herself. “I sensed my Chosen within the temple, and I… in the life I was living, he was my dearest friend.” And she had loved him, and she loved him still, and Parasova’s clicking head motion told her that the little assistant knew perfectly well all that she was not saying. “He… I’m still not used to these memories, to who I am.” She shut her eyes for a long moment, feeling tears tremble at their edges, but not letting them fall. “Sensing him almost destabilised me.”
Impa frowned, uncomfortable. “I felt your power waver. Does that mean it is dangerous for you to be near him, Your Radiance?”
“I don’t know,” Zelda said slowly, unhappily. “I did not know what this would do to us. I don’t know what to expect. He was to be my guardian – I would have wanted him to –” She broke off, her hands lifting in mute distress. The memories of a Skyloft girl battled against the drive and duty of all she had been before, and it was only with effort, at the cost of redoubling her grief and remorse, that she pressed them away. She would never and had asked him to die for her, she would never and had moved him like a piece on a game board, still deciding his fate even now across the breadth of time-
“Mistress!” Parasova’s sharp, static-laced voice cut into the storm of feelings, and again, with an effort, Zelda forced them into abeyance. “It’s perfectly clear that Impa is right. The light intensity in this room has significantly decreased, which I’ve been reliably told was always correlated with Mistress Hylia’s presence fading.”
“You cannot risk losing your self-control now, Your Radiance,” Impa told her, at once concerned and uncomfortable at speaking so firmly to her goddess, reborn before her as prophesied. “You have only just awoken. This is your most vulnerable time.”
“You’re right,” Zelda whispered, clasping her hands together, her head bowed. “I barely held on to my memories… my power. If I lose the memories again…” She shook her head. “We cannot take that risk. There’s no time to try reawakening them. Impa – where must I go now?”
It was Parasova, however, who answered her. “It was your intention, Mistress, to send aid through the Gate of Time.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” She remembered that, remembered waiting by the Gate as the ever-thinning strand of hope dwindled away to nothing, as no help ever came. “...But I sealed the Gate.”
Her head shot up a moment later, a new light in her sky-blue eyes. “But – the original Gate of Time!”
Parasova nodded, scratchily and yet ineffably smugly. “Correct, Mistress. The original Gate of Time probably still stands. Ghirahim has never seemed very interested in the depths of the desert.”
“I have never travelled there,” Impa said, quietly. “We Sheikah venture into the fringes of the desert for training, but we do not go too deep lest we draw Ghirahim’s attention.”
“That’s all right,” Zelda said calmly. She felt far more assured now that she had some fragment of a plan. “Para and I know it well.” She walked back to Impa as she spoke, her power sure and certain now as she stretched out to the southwest across the lands that had once been her own and found their edge, and the edge of the desert from which she had come. “I’ll take us to the edge.” She hesitated. “If… if you’ll come with me? Please?”
“Of course, Mistress! It’s my purpose to assist you!”
“I would be honoured to, Your Radiance, sacred one.”
Parasova turned to Impa with a whirring of ancient joints. “Please prepare for transportation,” she directed loftily, settling down into her compact, folded position. Impa bowed abbreviatedly to her before lifting her, settling her safely back inside the well-padded backpack and swinging it on.
“Unfortunately,” Parasova’s voice explained from inside, “my motor systems have deteriorated somewhat over the past millennium, despite the maintenance the Sheikah have performed.”
Zelda grinned, absurdly, a little flash of old good humour resurfacing in casual conversation with her personal assistant. “Considering your guarantee was only good for a decade, I think you’ve done quite well.” She frowned a little, thinking, then checked the magical pouch she still wore. Bleached as white as the rest of her clothes, it had held its enchantment, and she drew out the harp that a daughter of Skyloft had played at a ceremony in a different, distant, simpler life. A caress of her fingers flooded it with magic, and before she could think about any places other than the one she needed to reach, she began to play.
Impa listened in silence as the goddess played, every note perfect as the liquid rippling of birdsong. She felt the ancient subtle power in it, felt the world obedient to the melody, as a golden light rose in the centre of the platform on which they stood, and when the tune ended, when the goddess lowered her harp, it felt as though she had lost something precious.
Slowly, she gestured to the light. “Is…”
The rest of Impa’s words died in her throat as she sensed something had changed in the spring, something she had not noticed while she let the goddess’ music mesmerise her; something that Zelda, too, had noticed, because her breath caught. Impa’s head snapped around as her goddess turned.
Down by the golden door, already reformed behind him, she beheld a young man, dressed in clothes as unusual as those the reborn goddess wore, predominantly green over sturdy chain armour, streaked with ash and filth and sweat. He was staring up at them, frozen in a moment of disbelief and dawning joy, and as Zelda gasped and clasped her hands together with an altogether different, more youthfully delighted expression upon her face, Impa realised with horror that they stood upon the edge of a knife.
The young man started forward, and Zelda took a step to meet him.
“Link!”
Fear twisted Impa’s gut as she snapped her arm out, blocking the girl’s path and hoping the goddess would forgive her her impertinence. Zelda stopped, crestfallen, pressing a hand to her heart as Impa spoke.
“You cannot go to him, Your Radiance. Remember what we discussed. You must restrain yourself – you must focus on the task at hand.” Beneath her quiet tone, beneath the controlled exterior of a Sheikah, her tone was pleading, almost desperate. She could not risk what the goddess herself had warned her might happen.
The young man came to an uncertain halt at the base of the steps, gazing up at the young woman as she stared back, her expression heartbroken. She gritted her teeth, frowning against the tears that threatened to break free – and turned away.
Link stared as Zelda took a slow, halting step away from him, blocked by the arm of the woman in the Sheikah clothes. He stared as she paused, looking back over her shoulder, speaking in a soft and halting voice that threatened to break.
“I… I have to go. I’m sorry, Link.”
She had to go. She couldn’t face him, couldn’t face all she had done to him, couldn’t face the girl from Skyloft who demanded they turn back and explain and apologise and beg that he forgive them even if he never wanted to see them again, the girl from Skyloft who hated the one who was herself and whose emotions were shredding the fabric of her memories and all of her powers with every breath.
She had to go.
She looked away from him, and walked into the light, and was gone.
The Sheikah woman turned to follow her, and Link found his voice at last.
“Wait!” His shout struck echoes from the walls that rang alongside his footsteps as he raced up the stairs, and the Sheikah turned back to him, a single tail of long white-blonde hair swinging beside her thin, hard-edged face. She raised her hand in unmistakeable denial, and something about the look in her ruby eyes made him hesitate enough to obey, stopping just short of her hand.
“She cannot wait.”
“But…”
The Sheikah woman looked him up and down, and her voice was still hard and sharp with imperfectly masked fear that Link was far too distraught to recognise. “You cannot follow her now. I fear the goddess may have been mistaken in her choice of agents.” She cares too much about you now. She cannot have foreseen that you would be so close in the new life. Surely she shouldn’t have chosen an agent whose very presence might destroy her.
But I’m here! I found her! Are you trying to say that I’ve failed her?! Link’s furious denial only hid his own fears. He hadn’t found her, day after day she had been here and he had only just barely caught up to her, stood transfixed by the fading notes of music as the door reformed behind him when he should have shouted; delayed and struggled and caught his breath when he should have moved faster; slept another night on Skyloft so that he’d not even caught up to her in time when she had been captured, and before he could form the words he had opened his mouth to say the Sheikah woman was speaking again in her cool, hard voice, its quietness only serving to make it more biting.
“If I had not sent her ahead, she could not learn of the fate that has always been her destiny. Listen well, chosen one. If you wish to be of help to Her Radiance, you must summon your courage to face the trials laid out before you. Only when you have walked the path that awaits you here may you aid her. No sooner.” All Impa had to do, she hoped, was to buy her goddess more time, time enough to become secure in the self she had awoken to. She and her chosen one had been meant to receive whatever instruction waited here together, but he had found this place and that meant he would be able to find the next. Whatever had been left here for him to find, he would be able to. “Am I understood?”
Link couldn’t speak.
Apparently satisfied with his silence, the Sheikah woman turned away. She stepped into the light, and vanished, and the light vanished with her.
He had been too late… and there was nothing that he could do.
Notes:
I have been waiting to fix that scene for freaking ages. I think maybe if I stare at it for another week, I might improve it slightly more? But probably only on the levels of rephrasing a sentence or two to flow better. I’m 95% happy with it, anyway.
Patch Notes:
- Zelda’s personality being tragically overwritten now actually tragic.
- Plot threads surface from the backstory!
- Reasonable “immortal” produced using said threads.
- Specific title introduced for goddess suitable to said goddess.
- Zelda given actual reason to listen to Impa and leave area.
- Impa given actual reason to stop Zelda from interacting with her chosen hero.
- Nuclear
GandhiImpa bug fixed: World’s Greatest Arsehole title removed from Impa; given back to Ghirahim.- Overall apparent thrust of Impa's speech retained through understandable misunderstanding.
- Link now supplies own internal criticism in line with prior self-doubt.
I genuinely nearly quit the game and just stopped playing when I hit this scene for the first time. Apparently Impa can handle things just fine without me, so I’m clearly not needed – and I hadn’t even done any of the sidequests, I fricking beelined it, the only way to move faster would have been to cheat. Okay, fine, thanks Impa, screw you too, guess I’ll go do the sidequests now since my getting here literally as fast as I possibly could wasn’t good enough for you.
So she’s better now.
Chapter 35: Stratagems
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Perched atop the rim of the crater, jagged red cape blowing in the gusts of ashen wind that plumed ceaselessly from its depths, the demon who had once, long ago, been a spirit of swordcraft studied his fingertips ostentatiously. He’d worked on them well, worked on his entire form well over the long centuries, and he took pride in it, but despite his self-indulgently self-absorbed pose, he wasn’t paying it any real attention. His mind was focused elsewhere – further down the mountain, and far away.
The goddess. It had taken him centuries to pry their plan out of her Sheikah dogs, one screamed word at a time. The sheer steel stubbornness of their resistance had been almost as impressive as it was infuriating, but he’d grown bored of that, too, in the end. They fought well, but not well enough, and when he chose to take one alive, not only would they almost never tell him anything useful, but they were so frustratingly dull.
It had been a millennium since he’d faced a real challenge. A millennium he’d spent here, wasting his time around the dead goddess’ former lands, around the seal that kept him from his master, from the glorious hunger that would consume all the world in one final, incredible, unrivalled war, Demise wielding his perfect, peerless sword to slay all before them. Even a demon can dream; many demons dream more than most; and Ghirahim dreamt of that day, the day when their conquest would begin again and he would once more exult in his true purpose. If he could kill the goddess and unravel her power, it would happen.
He’d had to admit her plan was clever, in its way. In Demise’s great hand, he’d wondered briefly why the goddess had chosen to hide herself in some mortal’s body for her final stand. Demise had not cared, and neither had he, then. When at last he extracted the vital clue from one of her servants, centuries later, he almost hadn’t believed it. The goddess had used a quirk of fate to escape destruction and hide herself, binding herself into the cycles of reincarnation as a human. She’d expected, no doubt, to grow strong again in secret and reclaim her old territory at the height of her power. She had reckoned without Ghirahim. He’d resolved to be ready, to find and capture and end her before she could, and so, forewarned, he’d waited for her.
It would have been better to await her with his master free, but that thrice-cursed seal still held abominably well. That, Ghirahim supposed, had been his first clue: the goddess was supposedly dead, but her power wasn’t fading as it should have. Even for a guardian, seals an integral part of her nature, her works should have come undone by now, unless there was still something somehow maintaining them. Some reservoir of power. And oh, there was.
He’d felt the first stirring in that power years ago. When she was reborn, perhaps? He’d searched the land below, hoping to find it amongst her Sheikah dogs, but never had he crossed her path. A decade had passed, and he’d felt it again, in almost imperceptible pulses, now there, now gone, strengthening slowly. He’d felt it start to grow faster, knew by then it was above him, beyond her second accursed seal that kept him from the weak and foolish mortals she’d flung into the sky at her last.
He’d hoped to break Demise free then, but not even the blood rite, conducted with the lives of every one of her servants he’d managed to capture since she had been reborn, had broken the seal entirely, and it would take an age to gather up enough of those irritating, evasive Sheikah to try again. It was close enough: the seal would break on its own if she even once drew power from it, and of course, if he could catch her…
So he’d been ready, just days ago. He’d waited for the perfect moment: when he sensed her centre out in the empty sky, and felt the flickering of unstable power trying again to manifest. He’d spun the winds beneath the barrier into a vortex that dragged the winds above into its train even as he struck, a needle-sharp lance of power until that point untested, piercing a momentary hole in the barrier for just long enough to launch it at her. He doubted it would kill the goddess; in fact, he’d rather hoped it wouldn’t. If he didn’t kill her himself, she would just escape again, and that would be far too frustrating to be borne. He’d planned to catch her, but her power had flickered and flared into a moment’s bright life and something had snatched her away in the same instant it faded back into undetectability.
He’d raged about it, taking solace in the emotion. The bloody heights of war denied him for a millennium, he’d cultivated the emotions as a lesser replacement, seeking what fulfilment he could in anger, and in others’ anguish, and in the black joy of inflicting pain, dragging out the moments before the final sweet satisfaction of death. And when his anger had run its course, he’d appeared to his army – still his army, even after all the long years, dim greedy bokoblins and moblins still whipped into discipline by the lash of his blade through generation after generation; the smarter, craftier lizalfos of his own design obeying with no less reluctance but at least seeing something more of the greater strategy than his master’s old drooling creations. He’d appeared to them in place after place, and given his orders: they were to hunt for the spirit maiden, and they were to bring her before him alive.
And so it would have been even now, below him upon the mountain, if it hadn’t been for that wretched Sheikah woman. He recognised her: she’d foiled him before, though never dared face him directly, and the subtle traces of her spirit had been all over the attempts to stop the blood rite, attempts that had weakened it but could not fully stop him. Just thinking about her made Ghirahim’s hand close into a fist; made his perfect teeth grind together with a rage the humans would have found quite unbecoming. The next time he encountered that dog would be her last, as he would exact bloody retribution for daring to intervene when he was this close: first his blade would-
Ghirahim’s hand uncurled in surprise and his head lifted as he felt something unmistakeable. The second light, the weaker but purer one, burned brightly for a few instants, and he felt the fiend Scaldera’s demise ripple through the aether like the faintest taste of burnt blood.
How positively astonishing, he thought to himself, white lips curving in a surprised but pleased and predatory smile. The sword has won with her little human boy. Well, well… I do hope that we meet again. Perhaps, he thought, half-hoped, his fellow sword would challenge him again, seeking to keep him from the goddess. Perhaps he would face her again in the perfection of his art, in a battle that would have been his apotheosis if he hadn’t already been divine. But only if that unfortunate mortal could withstand all the training he so desperately needed… No, it probably wouldn’t happen.
Of all the things Ghirahim had considered over the long years, that one truly was a pity.
He refocused his attention on the goddess’ shield over her sacred spring, hard and bright while her power animated it from within, flared at last to a brightness at least vaguely befitting her divinity. He’d been so close behind her, but the cursed shield had blocked his way, and as he arrived he’d felt it shine with a radiance he hadn’t fully felt in a thousand years. Hylia, it seemed, was truly reborn, her power reawakened. Annoying, but not insurmountable: as he’d inspected it from this safer distance, he’d come to realise it still wasn’t the shining force it had once been, even now.
Even as Ghirahim watched with the senses of the divine, Hylia’s power wavered, dimming and brightening, the currents of it that ran through her shield tinged with regret and resolve and self-recrimination. The goddess doubted her course, did she? It was a weakness Ghirahim instantly resolved to exploit. The human body would grant her all the usual mortal fallibilities and frailties, and Hylia had always been an overly sentimental goddess.
Let him only get close, and he would cut out her radiant heart.
The cruel smile that lent its faint curve to his lips vanished in the next instant as he leapt to his white-shod feet, perfectly balanced even on the rim of the volcano. Hylia had- the blasted goddess had- once again she had teleported out of his reach!
The volcano erupted behind Ghirahim, utterly ignored, as he cursed, the crackling fury of his aura lashing the ragged magics of earth and fire to raging fury to burn the land and blacken the sky as they rebelled against the wrongness of his demonic anger. Lava spewed past him; a crack opened where he stamped a slim foot, such was the force of his rage. He whipped his sword from the air and sliced through it, cutting ash and smoke to ribbons, cutting swathes through the choking cloud that were darker still.
At last he stilled, his head bowed, drawing himself up with a cold and disdainful superior smile.
Let the goddess run, let her try to hide. He would find her. He was a commander fit to lead at Demise’s right hand, and his army would find her. Her sword followed her, so he would follow her sword, and he would find her trail, and whether by her sword or his own army, he would find her.
And then, at last, the goddess would truly die.
Notes:
It’s Ghirahim! Where does he run off to while you’re fighting Scaldera, and why? And what’s he been up to all this time, anyway? All these long years, it’s no wonder he’s so frustrated.
Patch Notes:
- Disappearing Ghirahim rediscovered.
- Reason provided for Ghirahim to disappear in the first place.
- Relevant plot threads from the backstory illuminated for continuation.
If you are following the ORO, now is the time to return to A Hunger to Swallow the World Ch. 4 and finish the story of Demise and Ghirahim!
Chapter 36: Departure
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link stared at the light as it faded, and stared for a long moment after it was gone. Tears pricked his eyes, desolate, furious with himself. Zelda was alive – but he had failed her. She’d looked at him, and looked so sad, and he’d seen her hold back whatever she might have said, steel herself to turn away. He’d failed her, and…
He bowed his head, gritting his teeth, fighting back the desire to just sit down and cry. He couldn’t let himself do that, not now; couldn’t let himself stop. He had to do better, somehow. She needed him: Fi had said so; the Sheikah had said so; even Headmaster Gaepora had said so. She was his dearest friend, and if the destiny Fi had spoken of had caught her up in it to the point that she couldn’t even turn back to speak to him… then he would catch up to it, or die trying.
Slowly, Link lifted his head, looking around the cavern again. Light filtered down from cracks in the roof, but it was otherwise, as far as he could tell, a natural cave, water running down its walls in whispering trickles, filling the air with a soft, cool murmuring. As he slowly started forwards, the echo of his steps melded with the sound of the water until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
Just like Skyview Spring, stepping stones had been placed leading towards the statue, ending in a slightly larger stone-built island with one last divide between it and the statue too wide to jump. Like the one at Skyview Spring, the symbol of the goddess was engraved at her statue’s base, and Link twisted to look back at the hilt of his sword.
“Fi… is this statue like the one at the other spring?”
Yes, Master.
Link took a deep breath and drew the sword, holding it high. The light filtering down from above caught in the blade, shining brighter than any reflection, and he-
-felt inevitability, and desperation, and he could only hope it would be enough-
-swung the sword down, releasing its power in a burst of pure light that shot forth and sank harmlessly into the statue’s base, seeming to spill into the carved symbol until it glowed with a brief, ethereal light. As the light faded, Fi leapt from the blade, alighting upon the water just as she had before, and it rippled gently golden beneath her feet.
“Master, I am now able to read the message engraved in this spring’s aura. Allow me to translate it to you.”
Link watched as she bent gracefully, one leg extended, then leapt into a twirling, elegant dance upon the surface of the water, her every motion perfect as a bird in flight. He turned to follow her as she danced about the spring, a golden wake rippling behind her, almost singing the words that she spoke.
“From across time I guide you, destined to carry out the goddess’ mission. The spirit maiden, having cleansed herself in the waters here, shall travel to a place entwined with fate. In the parched desert of Lanayru, the chosen must seek a sacred gate… the Gate of Time.”
Fi had danced around Link, around the statue, and as she spoke the final words, she came to a stop halfway between both, spinning on the very tip of one pointed foot, her arms upraised. The statue behind her began to shine with a soft light, falling from its folded hands to illuminate a spot at its feet, and a broken stone tablet seemed to emerge from nowhere, the centuries-old magic that sealed it away released at last. Fi bowed low, slowing her spin, and with one last deft move, glided gracefully around to watch Link from just behind and to the side of the island he stood upon.
Though her skill was breathtaking, Link was more focused on the statue, on the gift it appeared to have given him. Would the stone tablet show him the way to the place called Lanayru, as the last one had to Eldin? Glancing back at Fi in case she prevented him, he jumped off the edge into the waist-deep water, sending ripples across its surface in all directions. The cool water was a welcome shock through his sweat-soaked clothes as he waded towards the plinth on which the statue stood, stinging grazes he’d forgotten he had. Reaching up to grab the edge, he hauled himself onto it, tired arms protesting.
The broken stone slab lay before him, a match for the other two piece he’d found, inset with a golden jewel. The lines carved into it were different again: some wavery, some jagged, like cracks and cliff edges. Link touched it cautiously, well-carved and rough under his fingertips, and braced himself to lift it, delivering it safely to the confines of his thankfully weightless pouch. Turning around, he pushed himself wearily off the edge of the plinth, landing with a splash and wading back to the island where Fi still watched him expressionlessly.
Another piece of stone map. Another gem. Another hole in the clouds, another long and frustrating struggle to find whatever it was he was supposed to be seeking, part of a path he hadn’t asked for and hadn’t wanted to walk. Link turned, dripping, to look back at the statue, almost a smaller twin of the one high upon Skyloft. Why had she chosen him? What did she want him and Zelda to do, as they ran across this alien, beautiful, deadly land? She was a goddess; why did she not simply do whatever she wanted herself instead of toying with their lives? Why had the Sheikah woman not even let them speak? What had Zelda known, what burden had she borne, that had forced her to obey her?
Why hadn’t he been faster…?
He could almost see Zelda behind his closed eyes. Not strange and sad and dressed in white, but her usual self, in Academy clothes or in her formal deep pink dress with the old harp in her hands, just as she’d stood before him atop the statue of the goddess high above in Skyloft, four days that felt like a lifetime ago. He could see the way she would turn to him when he’d caught her unawares, the smile that would cross her face like sunlight; hear the little laugh she’d give as much in happiness as amusement when he told her some terrible joke, or poked her shoulder with the end of his pen in class.
No matter what the goddess wanted from him, he still had to find his friend. For her, he would go to the ends of the sky; to the heart of the volcano; to wherever it took. Somehow… somehow, he would find it in himself to be faster, braver, better than he ever had been. Zelda was alive, and unhurt, and as long as she was out there, walking away was not a choice he would ever make.
Opening his eyes slowly, Link raised his head, turning away from the statue of the goddess to face Fi, regarding him in silence.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said quietly, and she nodded once before springing into a blur of light as she retreated into the sword. Hopping wearily between the stepping stones, he made his way back to the stairs, down them, to the golden door. As he raised the sword high once again, he felt-
-resignation and regret-
-more than anything else, but the light still caught in the strange and perfect blade, and as he touched it to the door it dissolved as readily as it had when he entered. The dull and dirty light outside seemed darker still after the clean purity of the spring, the light in the statue and in the sword, and Link sighed through the purifying mask he still wore as he reluctantly sheathed it. He couldn’t ask his loftwing to fly down here, in the ash and the murk of the stutteringly rumbling volcano. It seemed even louder than it had before.
The bridge shook beneath him, and Link yelped, staggering a pace to the side and dropping to a half-crouch to keep his balance. It was louder than it had been before, the shaking stronger, and-
Master Link, I detect an ongoing volcanic eruption. It is imperative that we leave this area as rapidly as possible.
The long path before them stretched out through Link’s mind. Back through the temple; down the treacherous mountainside; into and out of the caves – long enough even without all the lizards and bokoblins to contend with.
Although the eruption is relatively minor, it is possible that it may intensify rapidly, Fi continued. In this situation, I advise an emergency evacuation. The updraught rising from the lava below you is of significant strength. Analysis confirms that it will provide your sailcloth with sufficient lift for you to exit the far end of the ravine safely.
Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Link thought, crossing cautiously to the edge and looking down. Hot air washed across his face, rising past him; below, the formerly red-orange ooze had become an orange-yellow flow, shimmering and inconstant with heat haze. His own instinctive understanding of the winds agreed with Fi’s: if that updraught was sustained throughout the ravine, he’d barely lose any altitude at all as he glided along, as long as he could avoid unexpected eddies dragging him into a wall.
“All right, Fi,” he said aloud. “Let’s do it.”
He knelt to unpack the sailcloth, grubby but still undamaged; threaded his arms through the straps and gripped them and its carefully folded bulk. The lava below seemed more ominous than ever, but he knew rationally that he would never be anywhere near it. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back a couple of paces – then ran forwards, leaping from the edge before he could change his mind.
The sailcloth snapped open with an even more bone-jarring force than usual, and Link was grateful that the straps looped around his arms as well as passing through his gloved hands. As he swung back and forth below the sailcloth, he was already instinctively shifting his weight this way and that, riding the powerful wind and – as he’d hoped – barely sinking at all, the rock walls drifting by at running speed, then walking speed, as he kept his weight angled forwards, slowing but still moving, until all of a sudden he was out of the cleft in the mountain and another wind snatched at him, dragging him sideways around its flank. He had the altitude, the mountain dropping away beneath him faster than he was falling, and he aimed for its edges. He’d spotted a couple of the little bird statues down there before, and could only hope that they would be far enough away for his loftwing to be safe.
When he found one, he thought, he would ask Fi. After all they’d been through, he knew he could trust her judgement at least as well as his own.
Notes:
Sorry for the absence! Things are getting busy around here, so I may not post regularly again until the end of June. You can still expect some chapters, but I can no longer promise them weekly – sorry. I hope you all still enjoy the updates as and when they come out!
Patch Notes:
- Fi no longer repeats the content of the message immediately after having heard said message. (In-game this may make more sense, as you could have skipped that cutscene. Although really, if you did that, what are you even playing the game for?)
- Ability to avoid walking back through the temple given actual mechanic.
- Ability to return to the sky moved to a region of less instantly bird-killing air.
- Message nature varied due to reasons to be visited later in the story…
If you are following the ORO, you will have arrived here from the final chapter of A Hunger to Swallow the World, and will keep reading here until Ch. 38.
Chapter 37: A Tale to Tell
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link had ended up camping beside the volcano, its dull grumbling making the ground beneath him tremble long after the eruption had ceased. He’d had little choice in the morning but to try to summon his loftwing from a surviving statue, despite the dirty light filtering through the ashen clouds. The red bird had made it, but he hadn’t been happy, and Link had seriously considered flying under the clouds all the way south to the opening he’d descended through before. Only his loftwing’s rapidly increasing discomfort at being beneath the clouds had prevented him from trying it, and as he flew towards Skyloft, he almost wished he had. Ash coated them both, turning the usually brilliantly-coloured bird pale grey and a dull, muddy red, and he could feel his uncomplaining loftwing’s discomfort.
Not far now, he thought reassuringly. We’re almost there. His thoughts of landing behind the Academy, and letting Orielle or Parrow check the red loftwing over before helping clean him, were for once met with the usually recalcitrant bird’s approval, a little bit of extra strength in his wingbeats sending them surging forwards towards the island.
In a small way, the ash seemed to have done Link a perverse favour as they swooped in to land, with almost no-one paying any attention to the approach of another dull-coloured loftwing and its rider. Only as they settled on the landing platform and Link slid from his loftwing’s back did Parrow seem to recognise them, already halfway through walking over.
“Link? I almost didn’t recognise you two! What happened?” The moment he’d reached them Parrow was reaching up, the loftwing lowering his head and submitting to the examination with an uncomplicated hope of imminent preening.
“It’s, uh, a bit complicated…” How would he ever explain the volcano and all that had happened there? “There’s an ash plume in the northern sky. We had to fly through it looking for Zelda.”
“Had to?” Parrow was still busy inspecting Link’s loftwing, who had closed his eyes in contentment. “Link, I’ve never even seen ash like this… whatever it is. He can’t fly again until he’s clean.” He paused, his tone softening somewhat. “You didn’t find her there either, did you.”
Link screwed his eyes shut, fighting back the sudden prick of tears. He had to force himself to open them again. “I saw her, but I – I couldn’t – I wasn’t fast enough to reach her. I think I know where she’s gone.”
Parrow blinked, struggling to process the two shocks coming so swiftly in one another’s wake. “You saw… but…” He shook his head. “So she didn’t seem hurt, at least?”
“No,” Link said, and saw Parrow’s evident relief.
“Thank the goddess. Yesterday evening, her loftwing started acting even more strangely. She’s been subdued ever since, and we… well, you have to worry when a bird starts behaving differently.”
“Yeah,” Link agreed quietly. Parrow’s broad, open face invited him to say more, but he didn’t want to talk. “I have to tell the headmaster.” He glanced back and forth between the Academy doors and the red loftwing, knowing he needed to take care of his bird, knowing he shouldn’t keep Zelda’s father waiting.
“Of course!” Parrow agreed instantly. “You make your report, and I’ll get your bird cleaned up.” Seeing Link’s surprise and confusion, he smiled for the first time since the younger man had landed. “We teach students to always look after your own loftwings so that you can, but when you’re on knightly duty, of course we’ll share the load. You have a lot on your shoulders – I don’t know why the Knight Commander hasn’t at least sent someone else with you.”
I don’t think he can… Aloud, Link managed a “Thanks, Parrow,” hoping his gratitude would be clear in his voice. Parrow smiled and gestured him on.
“Clear skies, Link.”
Link jogged past the recovery pens to reach the back door, glancing at Zelda’s loftwing as he passed. The lavender bird was perched in a back corner, her head low, her whole posture miserable, no longer paying the sky outside any heed. The sight spurred him on: he had to catch up to Zelda, do whatever he had to do to help her, whatever it cost him, whatever it took.
He was still thinking that as he opened the Academy’s back door, shutting it behind himself and hurrying to the central staircase, up to the headmaster’s office. Voices came from behind one of the classroom doors as he passed, the everyday life of the Academy continuing as if nothing had changed, as if the world below were still nothing more than a legend and all its students still safe within its halls.
As Link knocked on the headmaster’s door, he wished once again that were true.
“Come in.”
Link did as he was bid, stepping inside to where Headmaster Gaepora sat behind his desk with a stack of books to his left hand and a pile of papers to his right. Worry seemed to have aged him a decade, etching deeper lines across his face that lessened only when he saw who his visitor was.
“Link! How goes your search?”
He took a deep breath, approaching the desk. “I… I saw Zelda. She was okay, I think. But she… she left.” The short words felt so inadequate, but he pressed on. “She said she had to go, that she was sorry. I think… I think she thinks she has to fulfil this destiny before she can come back.”
Relief and hope had flared in the headmaster’s eyes as Link spoke, only to fade again. He bore the news otherwise calmly, silent for a few moments before he spoke.
“I see. Well… I have no doubt that my daughter is doing as she thinks best. You and she are quite clearly chosen of the goddess, and I must trust that her hand is on you both. Everything I have found in my reading only confirms that. But were you not able to go after her?”
Link shook his head. “She teleported herself away somehow, or maybe the lady with her did. I don’t know her name, but she was one of the Sheikah people I told you about last time.” It was still almost an effort to keep his voice level. “I think I know where they went – I have another stone tablet, like the last one, and the message Fi translated for me said I had to go to a desert called Lanayru. The Sheikah lady told me I needed to face the trials before me before I could help Zelda… so I have to go to this desert, and find something called the Gate of Time. The message said that the place was entwined with fate…”
“...Well,” Headmaster Gaepora said, slowly. “Then I can only hope her fate, too, is leading her there.” He sighed. “I feel terrible forcing you to face this task alone, but all that you say bears it out. None of the rest of us here on Skyloft have been chosen, and even if we did attempt this task regardless… I fear what the consequences of our failure might be. It seems that only you can aid her, and so this mission has to fall to you alone.”
Link nodded once, more a brief bow of his head than anything else. “I understand, Headmaster.”
“Thank you, Link.” There was an almost wretched gratitude in his voice, just for those few moments. When he spoke again, it had vanished. “Now, while you’re here, do you want to tell me what else happened? I’ll pass your report on to Herrene and Eagus so you don’t need to repeat yourself.”
“All right.” Link sat where the headmaster gestured him to, taking a deep breath as Gaepora dipped his quill and waited expectantly. “There’s a plume of ash to the north where the hole in the clouds is, and under that there’s the volcano…”
The scratch of the headmaster’s quill was the only sound he made as he listened to Link’s long, almost unbelievable tale.
Notes:
That took longer than I hoped, but as promised, I’m back! Sorry about the long delay. I agreed to do some extra work as they were short-handed, but (a) it took a week and a half extra, and (b) then I was even more tired! I hope I’ve got back into the style okay; after a long break from writing, I always fret. These next few chapters were hard to design, which hasn’t helped: there are various little bits and pieces to go into rather than a single coherent arc, at least up until we get back below the clouds again. Thanks for sticking with me through the hiatus! We should be back to more or less one a week from now on.
And of course, I wouldn’t forget the…
Patch Notes
- “Mass Confusion” removed permanently.
- Headmaster now actually asks after his daughter’s health and whereabouts like real caring father.
- Taking a loftwing near an active volcano now clearly bad idea.
- Zelda’s loftwing still exists!
Chapter 38: Uncertainty and Distress
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A long explanation and a desperately-needed bath later, Link hurried out of the Academy before another set of classes could end, hoping to escape having to answer any questions. He could sense his loftwing still basking in Parrow’s attention, discomfort neither had fully realised the bird was feeling expertly groomed away. They couldn’t fly until it was done, and Link’s steps across the bridges that led up to the Isle of the Goddess slowed as he neared it, gazing up at the goddess’ benevolent stone face, the chin framed between her small, folded wings. Erosion had battered the small island dreadfully, leaving parts of its walls tumbled and the half-dome that shielded the gateway ragged despite the loving repointing of its mortar and repainting of its blue and gold decorations, but the statue was made of sterner stuff: the generations only seemed to have brought a little blurring to her carved features or the drapes of her stone robe. Each of his steps brought her head closer to vanishing behind the dome: mouth, then nose, then blank stone eyes, until he could only see the lightly clouded blue sky.
Did the goddess watch him? Why had she chosen him, and Zelda, for whatever her mysterious purpose was? Fi’s words came back to him once again with a chill like a cloud passing over the sun: the shadow of apocalypse…
Why them? What had Zelda known that had made her turn and go, without even stopping to tell him why? The Sheikah with her had known – something they had discussed – but hadn’t told him either. Could Ireya and Davar have told him? He’d wanted to ask them so much, but he hadn’t had the time. A cold fist seemed to clench in his chest as he thought of them, thought of Davar, left lying bleeding on the stone floor by a blow that could as easily have been meant for Link. Was he alive? Was Ireya even now watching over him, or were she and the rest of her people in mourning for the death of one of their own?
If he’d been faster, better, would it have happened?
If he’d known what he was doing and why he was there, if he’d asked enough to know whatever it was that Zelda knew, would he have known to warn them?
Life is danger, chosen one. Would they have listened?
Would Zelda have listened, if he’d known what to say to her?
Would she be safe?
He thought of an out of place sword with white-wrapped hilt, and of a crude prison cell, and the chains within it. No, she wouldn’t be safe, not even remotely, and for all that she had one of the Sheikah with her now, that might not be enough. There was nothing for it: he had to hurry.
Sunlight fell across his face unexpectedly and he looked up, surprised. Lost in his reverie, he’d walked automatically across the ancient flagstones, beneath the curved roof, and through the gateway without even realising it, until he stood in the green walled courtyard that surrounded the statue of the goddess, the midday sun shining down upon him with all its warmth in the still air. Link looked up at the goddess’ serene stone face, only just visible above her folded hands, and sighed.
Why…?
There was no answer. There never had been. Not even Father Kaeber claimed to directly hear the words of the goddess. Link had seen great Levias once, at a festival in his honour four or five years ago, and his deep, resonant voice could be heard clear across the island, but the goddess… she was a greater spirit, and of a different, more distant kind. Her gifts were all around them: the islands and the loftwings; their wide blue sky; their safety high above the shield of cloud below. She loved her people, it was always said, and they had always loved her, but their prayers or even entreaties were never answered with something so clear as a voice.
Link started as Fi sprang from the sword to hover beside him, blank eyes seeming to gaze right through him.
“I detect that you are experiencing a significant level of uncertainty and distress, Master.”
“Yeah, Fi,” he said quietly, on a sigh. “I guess I am.”
She drifted beside him as he walked forwards, one knee bent, that foot tipped slightly as if caught partway through taking a step. A wind that had nothing to do with the real wind gusting by outside the high walls rippled the metallic drapery of her arms.
“Why are we doing this, Fi? I mean – I know I took you to help me find Zelda. You told me you would, and that was all that really mattered. But why is all of this happening? I feel like I don’t understand anything any more. When we saw Zelda, she-” It hurt, a little, just to talk about, just to remember. “She seemed to think she had to do something, something she thought was more important than coming back here or telling her dad she’s okay or even telling me. I went to the surface e-even though it’s supposed to be impossible to look for my best friend, but everyone else – you and the Sheikah and even Zelda – all seem to know something else is going on, something big.” He sighed, tipping his head back briefly, catching a glimpse of the goddess’ stone toes peeking out from beneath her robe before looking down again as he stepped into the cool gloom of the staircase that led to the secret chamber beneath the statue, keeping to the left so that Fi could float alongside to his right. “Something so important, it’s like I’m the only one who still thinks looking for my friend because she’s my friend and she’s lost even matters.”
Fi was silent for several moments, but Link had the sense that it was because she was thinking, composing her response.
“Your reasons for undertaking this quest speak to the nature of your spirit, Master Link. This is the reason that you were chosen by the goddess, and that I was created to aid you. However, you are also correct that you lack knowledge possessed by others about the journey you have embarked upon. It is clear that the information that I provided you with previously was insufficient. What do you wish to know?”
Link thought about it as he stepped out into the Chamber of the Goddess and watched the orbs of light glow into being and take up their station, illuminating the dark room.
“What’s the shadow of apocalypse?”
“The shadow of apocalypse refers to the demons that currently inhabit the lands below, in particular their master.” Did she seem ever so faintly pleased? Her tone was as it always was, her calm expression opaque, but Link still had the feeling that she thought he’d asked the right question.
“Ghirahim?”
Fi shook her head, the motion graceful. “Although Ghirahim is a powerful demon, he is not the most powerful to have existed.” Was there something else beneath the calm melody of her words? Link strained to make it out. “He is the servant of one more powerful still, who is described as casting the shadow of apocalypse.”
“So… I have to defeat a demon… more powerful than Ghirahim?”
“In essence, Master. That is the purpose for which I was created for you to wield. Only when united with the spirit maiden, having both faced the trials before you, are you intended to attempt this task.”
“And, uh…” Link frowned, trying to think of a way to phrase it that wouldn’t sound like he was turning his back on her, on all of it. “Just so I know… what would happen if I didn’t, if I failed?”
“It is probable that the entire world would ultimately be consumed, Master Link.”
Link swallowed. Fi’s calm, factual delivery combined with her seemingly near-limitless knowledge made her impossible to disbelieve.
“No pressure, huh…” The enormity of it was ridiculous, impossible. “Is… that why you’re afraid of him? Ghirahim? You hate him, don’t you?”
Fi’s silence suddenly seemed absolute, her stillness transmuted to motionlessness. The few seconds it lasted felt like forever, a crushing blow, something immense and terrible looming over the core of his being. The feeling lifted in the instant before she spoke.
“No, Master. I am not designed to be capable of emotion. Although it is natural for you to attempt to perceive it in me, I do not possess it.”
“I, uh, right, sorry – I’m sorry.” Link knew his reaction was out of proportion to her words, but he couldn’t help himself. Something had happened when he’d asked that question, something had shifted just for a few seconds, and he didn’t think it was him. Even though the feeling had vanished, fading rapidly into his memory, he didn’t think he’d just made it up.
“It is not necessary for you to apologise, Master Link.” Fi paused for another long moment, but this one had none of the strangeness to it: he felt she was thinking, assessing – as indeed she was. It was clear that he had detected the aberrations in her behaviour. She had learnt long before that attempting to analyse the errors in her programming inevitably produced further errors, and could not calculate the probability that attempting to explain them would produce the same result. Equally, however, it was indisputable that her master was aware of their consequences. It was also indisputable that a previously unknown flaw in his sword, encountered at a key moment, could lead to his death.
“You are correct in your observation that my behaviour alters in the presence of Ghirahim,” she told him, and Link felt as though he should hold his breath. “I cannot assess whether discussing the error with you would be beneficial to the correction of it. However, since it has affected my function to a noticeable degree, it is imperative that you are made aware of it.” She paused, analytical and deductive processes inwardly racing, attempting to route around the error in a manner that would permit her to explain it. “The sword was used in battle against the demon Ghirahim approximately one thousand years ago. Although I did not sustain physical damage, it is apparent that some errors were introduced into my programming as a consequence. I cannot analyse and repair these errors, since any attempt to assess them causes an error in my internal analyses. It is this flaw that has resulted in the differences in behaviour that you have observed.”
“I see,” Link said slowly. He wasn’t entirely sure that he did, but it was more than he’d known before. Another thought caught up to him, shot through with concern. “When we fought him before, at that temple in the forest – did that hurt you?”
“No, Master Link,” Fi replied, and Link breathed out in silent relief. She was okay. “I conducted a full analysis during the subsequent night, while you slept. No further errors were introduced by the combat.”
“Good,” he said, heartfelt.
“In addition,” Fi continued, “I have begun to develop methods of routing around the errors where possible. In some circumstances this may result in my being able to provide you with more limited data than would otherwise be the case. Due to my inability to analyse the primary error, however, it is still possible with unknown probability that it may be encountered without warning.”
Link nodded, slowly. “I understand. Is there anything I can do to help if it is?”
“I am not aware of any such course of action, Master. I will inform you if I determine one.”
“Okay.” He looked at her, old and young, perfect and damaged, emotionless as always, and reached back over his shoulder to rest his hand on the sword’s cool hilt. Though it had only been a few days since they met, it felt reassuring under his fingers, and part of him hoped it might feel the same way to her. He couldn’t touch her shoulder, but she was, after all, part of the sword.
Fi looked on impassively, and he slowly lowered his hand again, feeling a little silly. Reassurance was an emotion too, wasn’t it?
“If you… if you want to talk about this error to me, you can. But you don’t have to, either. I don’t know if it’d help or not, but I don’t know anything else I can do right now, so if you think telling me more about it might help, then you can do that, and if it won’t help, you don’t have to. And if there’s anything you don’t want me to ask about… like Ghirahim… tell me and I won’t.” He paused, and Fi simply nodded. Explaining himself to her seemed both easier and harder than to most people. She said she couldn’t feel fear, or hate, but it was the only way he could understand to interpret her reactions. It was like Ghirahim had done something terrible to her, and if he’d damaged her somehow, then Link supposed he had. It made sense of the way he’d taunted them, taunted Fi – and all at once, the last piece fell into place.
“That fight with Ghirahim. That’s what killed your previous wielder, isn’t it?” He’d blurted the words out before thinking, before he could stop himself, and in the single moment of utter silence he mentally kicked himself for even opening his mouth. He’d just said he wouldn’t make her talk about it, said he wouldn’t talk about it, if there was anything she wouldn’t want him to talk about it would be that-
“Yes,” Fi said, simply, the single word so brief and short that it was almost impossible to hear any trace of melody in it, whether it was there or not.
“I’m really sorry, Fi.” His hand was back on the hilt of the sword, and this time he didn’t remove it. “I’m really, really sorry.”
“Your deduction was correct, Master Link. It is not necessary for you to apologise.”
“Well, I think it is,” he said quietly. Once again, Fi considered her options.
“Then I accept your apology in accordance with your social customs.” She regarded him for a long moment. “You should complete the task that brought you to this location, Master Link.”
What? The tablet… “Oh, right. The tablet.” The conversation had been so important, the fact that he still had to place the tablet had been almost driven from his mind. “Okay, Fi.”
Once again, his words were soft. Maybe she didn’t understand, but if she chose to change the subject, Link would definitely let her. Lowering his hand from the sword, he took out the heavy stone slab with its broken edge, crossed the room still carrying it – avoiding the pedestal where the sword had stood, four days that felt like half a lifetime ago – and slotted it into place. It fit snugly on the left-hand side, completing the carved map, and just as the others had, the gem set into it glowed with an inner light as he felt a rush of power flow upwards through the room around him.
“I’ve confirmed the location of a third opening in the cloud barrier in the sky to the southwest,” Fi informed him. “It will allow you to reach the Lanayru region of the surface. I suggest going there as soon as you are suitably prepared.”
Link nodded, turning from the map to leave the chamber. “What preparations do you think I need to make, Fi?”
“Since the Lanayru region is a barren desert,” Fi said, floating alongside, “you are advised to retain your heat protection. I also recommend carrying significantly more water than you have on previous ventures. I cannot calculate the probability that water will be available to you once you are upon the surface.”
The floating lights in the room, as always, faded at their departure.
Notes:
I’m going to be busy next weekend, so while I will try and get the chapter written beforehand, I may not succeed, and you may not get a chapter next Sunday. If that happens, sorry! I will try to have it all ready to post so I can just log in and hit the ‘Post Chapter’ button, but no promises.
I had fun writing this one. I didn’t expect it to go anything like how it did, but that’s just how things are around here, I guess! Poor Fi, though, huh?
Patch Notes:
- Link holds actual conversations with his permanent companion.
- Plot threads interweave throughout, some continued from the backstory.
If you are following the ORO, now is the time to return to Out of Time, Ch. 11!
Chapter 39: A Knight's Duty
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link had made it back from the market just in time to retrieve his chainmail from the armoury at the back of the training hall and bolt to his room before the Academy bell rang the hour again, sending students spilling out into the halls as they moved between classes, or headed outside for flight practice or weapons training. By the time he’d finished donning his armour and settling all his gear onto belt and baldric, the hubbub outside had largely quietened. There were only a few stragglers left as he hurried down the gentle spiral of the main stairs and along the hall to the counter set into the wall between it and the kitchens. Through the wide, arched opening, he could see Instructor Owlan over by the ovens, talking to Henya as she pushed an enormous tray of unbaked bread into one.
“...would have been nothing but dust and rock, if it existed at all. I never actually expected to learn that anyone had successfully passed through the clouds, though.”
Link looked over the handful of packages still lying on the counter and smiled briefly in gratitude as he recognised his own name on one in Henya’s familiar hand. He picked it up and tucked it under his arm, quietly retreating and missing most of the head cook’s response. Headmaster Gaepora and Knight Commander Eagus had been as good as their word in seeing him supplied, and though Link wasn’t even sure how much they knew, everyone from Henya to Parrow had been helping without question.
As he slipped out of the back door and back into the landing area and recovery pens, he could see Parrow pacing up and down, connecting his attitude to the little twinge of concern? radiating from his loftwing. Link frowned: the afternoon duty was usually Orielle’s, and he’d have expected them to have handed over hours ago.
“Parrow?” he asked, coming up behind him. “What’s wrong?”
Parrow jumped, turning to face him. “Ah, Link. Hah… you really want to hear about my troubles as well?” He sighed, turning to look out to sky. “This morning, my little sister went out for a quick flight, but she hasn’t come home yet. She said she wanted to see how the funfair was getting on – you heard about that, right?”
Link nodded: he had, although it was the last thing on his mind right now. A carefully-drawn advertisement had been nailed up in the Skyloft market for weeks, telling everyone that Dodoh’s Cloud Circus would be taking up permanent residence on one of the little rocky islands out to the southwest. Link had fond memories of the circus: they usually travelled around the islands, staying in any one place for no more than a month at a time, living mostly hand to mouth on their audience’s crystals and gratitude. They had to have been doing well if the airmaster thought they could afford to settle down.
“She shouldn’t have been more than four or five hours,” Parrow continued worriedly, “even if she got distracted. It’s not like her to be this late. And everything that’s been happening… I’m worried sick thinking about it.” He cast a glance over his shoulder, at the pen where Zelda’s loftwing still huddled forlornly. “I’d go looking for her myself, but I can’t leave that poor girl alone that long. And what if one of you students came in with another injured bird?”
“Have you told the Knight Commander?” Link asked.
“I’m starting to think about about it,” Parrow replied uncertainly. “I don’t know that I’d be this worried if it wasn’t for… well, everything.” A sweeping gesture that took in both Link and Zelda’s loftwing said it all. “But now…”
“I think you should tell him, Parrow. And…” Link took a slightly deeper breath, his own concern preventing him from staying silent despite the urgency of his mission. “I need to fly southwest anyway. I’ll keep an eye out for her, okay?”
“Would you do that? That’s so kind of you… thank you, Link!”
Though he could feel the weight of another responsibility settling across his shoulders, Link made himself smile. “It’s all right. You tell the Knight Commander and get a proper search party formed. I’ll grab one of the upperclassmen from manoeuvres so there’s someone else to carry a message if I find her.”
Parrow nodded, hope and gratitude in his eyes. “That’s probably sensible, you’re right.” He seemed more confident for Link having set out a clear plan of action. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders these days. Clear skies and the goddess’ blessings – I’m counting on you!”
“Clear skies, Parrow,” Link said, turning back to the landing platform. He ran out onto it confidently, leaping from the edge, the wind rushing up past him as he gave a piercing whistle. Soaring nearby, his loftwing both heard and felt the signal, stooping into a dive, wide wings folded as he split the air like an arrowhead, rapidly closing on his human. For a moment, Link let himself feel the uncomplicated thrill of it, the red bird matching his height and his speed and easing beneath him so that they touched with barely a jar before arcing up and away, secure in their mastery of the air.
As they beat up into the sky, Link looked around, searching for the familiar uniforms and plumage of the older students. There – was that Karane? At one with his intentions, the red loftwing soared closer, navigating the complex air currents around Skyloft with the habitual ease of a lifetime. It was her, practising a series of loops and turns, and Link waved and shouted as they drew near.
“Karane!”
The tawny loftwing levelled out before swooping in to match his flight path.
“Link!” Karane’s freckled face split in a broad grin. “You’re not after flight tips, are you? Not after that great showing at the Wing Ceremony!”
“I need your help with something, but it’s not that,” Link called back. Just for a moment his pride at having won the contest flickered again, but it was almost like something that had happened in another life, overshadowed by so much else. “Listen, Orielle’s late back from that island the Cloud Circus are setting up on, and Parrow’s worried. I’ve got to head southwest anyway, so I promised Parrow I’d look for her. Will you come with me, just in case?”
“Orielle?” Karane frowned. “Yeah, this is late. That’s not like her. Sure, we’ll help!”
“Thanks!”
The red loftwing veered southwest, picking up the pace to a steady long-haul beat, and Karane’s tawny bird matched him, keeping up easily on her slightly shorter wings.
“You know Parrow really should tell the Knight Commander, not us, right?”
“That’s what I told him!”
“Good for you!” Karane grinned again. “But I can’t say I mind doing manoeuvres with a real purpose!”
Link had rather hoped she wouldn’t. In the early and mid afternoon, with the islands at their warmest, subsets of the senior upperclassmen were released into the skies to work on their manoeuvres, alone or in small groups. Quite a few of them struck out into the wider skies to practice, away from the crowded air of Skyloft, and a few would occasionally use the opportunity to slip off and visit other islands. The Headmaster held to the rule that now they were adults they should start taking responsibility for their own time, and if they slacked off in their training they would have only themselves to blame when they took twice as long to graduate.
They flew onwards for a short while before Karane spoke again.
“So, um…”
Link braced himself.
“Everyone’s saying that the Skyloft Monster is real and a little girl has made friends with it, and you found that out?”
Link blinked, caught completely flat-footed. “Uh – yeah.”
“So, what, was it some sort of prank? Or, some of the others are saying it’s actually a grumpy old night-flier who wants to turn over a new leaf but doesn’t dare show his face to anyone old enough to remember his crimes! It is, isn’t it?”
“No… he’s actually… kind of a monster. But a nice one, I think. He used to be a sky spirit, but he got… messed up? I went to check on Kukiel while I was at the market earlier, and she’s okay. I’ve already told the Headmaster all about it so he could tell the Knight Commander. I don’t really know what to do about it apart from that, but maybe I can figure out some way to help him.”
Karane gaped at him.
“The Skyloft Monster… is real? A real monster?”
Link nodded. “I think he’s lonely.”
“You’re having me on, aren’t you? You’re tweaking my wing. No way!”
“Really!” He was almost enjoying her reaction. “You can ask the Headmaster, or Jakamar or Wryna!”
“Well, I… well, I guess I have to now!” She seemed caught between believing his sincerity and the unexpected, almost unbelievable nature of the story.
“Just, if you meet him… be nice to him, okay?”
Karane shook her head in something between amazement and amusement. “If you say so!”
They flew on in silence for a short while, veering off to fly in twin zigzag search patterns as they passed the first couple of small, uninhabited islands, and regrouped again in the clear sky beyond them. Neither had found any sign of a stranded loftwing – or worse, a stranded flier alone – and they continued, rising and falling in altitude to make the most of the winds.
“So, Link…”
“Yeah?”
Karane shook her head, looking suddenly chagrined. “It’s nothing! Like Pipit says, we’ll hear everything from the Headmaster, so we shouldn’t bother you when you have so much to deal with!”
Link blinked, finding himself once again grateful to Pipit, far away though he was. “Thanks. I… I appreciate it.” He really did. There was so much, so much he’d seen and done and still had to do, to think about. How would he ever explain it all in one go? How would he even start? How would he convince anyone to believe it all, when he had so much still to understand himself?
“Say, what do you think of him, anyway?”
“Pipit? Well… he’s nice. That was really kind of him.”
“He is nice, isn’t he?” Karane agreed, suddenly enthusiastically voluble. “He’s kind and caring! And handsome and wonderful!”
Link couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, and he suspected Karane had seen it, as she blushed crimson.
“Oh dear… I – I don’t know what’s come over me all of a sudden! I’m sorry for bothering you with such an awkward question…”
Her loftwing veered away gently, as if to set back out on their search pattern, and Link let them go, his smile growing fainter. So it was true Karane had eyes for Pipit, was it? If it had been just a few days earlier, he would have laughed to himself about it and probably told Zelda everything once he got back to the Academy. If it had been just a few days earlier, it probably would have been the biggest news he’d expect to hear in a week. Instead, now, it barely registered. It was still nice to see someone else happy, but other than vaguely hoping it worked out, he just couldn’t muster the ability to care about her interest in her classmate in the way he once would have. There was so much more he had to focus on, and yet it felt like a distant loss, one he didn’t really understand and couldn’t explain.
The two loftwings zigzagged through the sky in silence after that, swooping low over each of the uninhabited islands they passed, not bothering with the scattered handful of inhabited ones since anyone landing there, however badly, would have already found help and someone to carry a message to Skyloft for them. Link wasn’t really expecting to find anything as they dove low over another small island, until to his surprise a slight dull smudge resolved itself into the shape of a brown loftwing with wings outspread.
Master, I can confirm that there is an injured loftwing on the island below.
Link had already decided to dive, Fi’s silent voice only confirming his choice. His loftwing gave a loud cry, summoning Karane and her bird, and stooped into the dive, picking up speed, the wind whistling through his feathers and his rider’s hair. They pulled up closer to the ground, a smaller figure beside the downed bird waving a strip of bright cloth up at them, and circled once to settle to a cautious landing on what little flat space there was. Close up, Link recognised the brown bird immediately, a mostly dull colour save for the pink and green barring on the tips of her flight feathers, as well as her rider, now hurrying towards them as he vaulted off his loftwing’s back.
“If it isn’t Link! When I saw those red feathers, I was almost sure it was you. I’m so glad you’re here!” Orielle’s voice was high and rapid with relief and strain, and Link knew she had to be feeling her bird’s pain. “We were flying back to Skyloft when – when my poor bird was injured!” She rubbed her eyes fiercely. “It was my own fault. This region was full of cloud a few hours ago, but she was sure she could handle it. I shouldn’t have listened! Then a gust of wind caught us off-balance, and she clipped her wing, and we only just managed to make a crash landing! But now we can’t get home…” Orielle sniffed, glancing to the side, where Karane’s loftwing was landing in the increasingly crowded space, long legs and strong talons gripping the rounded stone of the island. “I didn’t think we would be very long… I didn’t even bring my medical kit. I feel so stupid…”
“It’s okay, Orielle,” Link said gently, touching her arm lightly as he tried to reassure her. She seemed somewhat dirtied herself, and he guessed she had to have tumbled off her bird as they crashed. Behind her, Link’s and Karane’s loftwings paced carefully to the downed bird’s side, their reassuring coos sounding over her breathy, pained little squawks. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Yeah,” Karane chipped in. “We’ll make sure you get back safely! Everyone messes up once in a while, right?”
Privately, she and Link both knew that Orielle was very, very lucky. If they hadn’t managed to crash on the island, that would have been the end of woman and bird both. If only one of them had made the landing, it might almost have been worse. Orielle had to know that as well as they did, but it was hardly what they needed her to be focusing on right now.
“I nearly fell off Skyloft that one time, remember?” Link said. “And Zelda’s loftwing pulled that muscle saving me.”
“Didn’t Zelda push you?” Orielle asked, sniffing and wiping her eyes again.
“Well… yeah. But that’s sort of the point. Everyone does something stupid sometimes.”
The day was seared into his mind. Zelda had thought he was being lazy, when in truth he could barely feel his bird at all. He’d nearly died when she’d given him a playful shove to get him to ‘stop messing around’, and though he could faintly, dimly, feel his bird’s desperate desire to come to him, he’d realised the frustration meant he literally couldn’t. For a few seconds, he’d genuinely thought he was about to die, to fall forever through the clouds and into the terror that lurked below, a bar to even his own bird’s brave heart.
“My cousin broke her leg jumping off her bird in a stupid place,” Karane volunteered. “See, it happens to everyone. You’re both going to be okay, and that’s what’s important. We just have to get you home.”
Orielle nodded shakily, seeming to pull herself together a little more. “You- you’re right. I know you two aren’t trained to airlift, but… If I just had my medical kit, we could at least island-hop home. Or…”
Link looked at Karane, who shook her head subtly.
“How about Karane flies home and fetches some full Knights?” he offered instead, Karane’s tiny nod proving he’d read her intentions correctly. “They can bring your medical kit and an airlift team. There are probably already some out looking for you by now; we’re just the ones who took off first, since I was going this way already.”
“Ohhh…” Orielle clenched her fists, looking down. “I…”
“It’s what you’d tell a patient!” Karane pointed out.
“Well, I suppose I would…” Another couple of tears escaped down Orielle’s face. “You’re right, of course. I – I know. We have to think of my bird’s health before anything else.” She turned back to the downed loftwing, who seemed at least a little calmer, if not really in any less pain, the other two settled on either side of her, careful not to touch. “We’ll be home soon, dear friend. We’ll be- be all right. They’ll bring help.”
Her loftwing squawked weakly, and Link read a pained gratitude in it.
“Do you want me to stay with you?” he asked quietly, obligations tearing him in two directions at once. Orielle looked back at him, and perhaps she could see it in his eyes.
“No, it’s fine. We won’t move at all… it won’t make it any quicker. You must have come out here looking for Zelda, mustn’t you? Her poor bird… don’t make her wait any longer on my account. We’ve still got each other, don’t we, girl?”
Despite her evident pain, the brown loftwing cooed in muted reassurance.
“There, you see? You keep looking for Zelda. We’ll be fine here until Karane can bring my medical kit.”
Link nodded, inwardly relieved and almost ashamed of it.
“I’ll fly straight to Skyloft,” Karane promised. “No sidetracks, no clouds, and no sprinting. We’ll be back with help before you know it!”
“Thank you both… thank you so much!” Orielle caught Link in a quick, strong hug, though he could feel her trembling slightly through the brief contact before she released him and did the same to Karane. “Thank you…”
“It’s a Knight’s duty,” Karane said confidently. “That’s what Pipit would say, and he’s always right about that sort of thing. We’d better get going – the sooner we start, the sooner we can bring help.”
Orielle nodded, clasping her hands tightly. “Fair winds, both of you.”
Given the circumstances, it seemed almost heartless to return the standard wish. Link and Karane shared another moment of hesitation before Link managed to say “Clear skies, Orielle.”
Their birds took off from the island almost together, circling at differing heights to avoid any chance of crashing into one another. As Link leapt, feeling the familiar sure certainty of his loftwing diving beneath him to catch him, Karane fell almost beside him. Though Link had been first to dive, her loftwing was the first to arrive, and as he landed almost lightly on the red-feathered back of his own bird and they pulled up, she was already flying back to the northeast with the strong, determined beat of a bird on a mission. She looked back once to wave, and Link waved back before veering around the island and once again heading southwest. There was no knowing how little precious time he had left to lose.
Notes:
It’s late but it’s here – I finished the last bit today! After sealing away some vampires.
Thank you as always for your kudos and your comments!
Patch Notes
- Groose’s near-murderous sabotage moved to slightly less immediately expellable point in the timeline.
- Fellow student given more utility and agency; increased awareness of plot.
- Orielle’s loftwing’s injury more clearly actual problem rather than inconvenience in returning to Skyloft.
- Important quest overridingly important; other young Knights-to-be now assist with other matters.
- Single mad millionaire clown replaced with functional travelling circus capable of setting up entire island’s worth of funfair.
If you are following the ORO, you will have arrived here from Out of Time Ch. 20. Read on!
Chapter 40: Dust and Rock
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link fell from the sky, the wind whistling past his ears. The landscape below him was a pale expanse of yellow and brown, the gap he fell through shining a ray of bright sunlight at a slight angle and turning a patch of it lighter still. Sighting a roughly round dark patch against the dusty paleness, which he assumed from Fi’s description of the region had to be sand, he angled his fall towards it, slipping through the air until he judged himself near enough and low enough to release the sailcloth – washed, thankfully, along with his clothes – and slow his fall.
He hit the hard surface with a jolt, dropping to hands and knees as the sailcloth floated down around him, inevitably landing on his head once again. Link tugged it from himself with motions that were becoming increasingly practised, folding it neatly away once more before he gave his surroundings more than a cursory glance. Then, he stared.
The clouds above were so thin that in places the sky was almost bluish, and the sun shone down only slightly dulled, shadows given soft and faded edges rather than driven away altogether. Rolling sand dunes stretched to the horizon, broken here and there by rock and by a series of what looked for all the world like strangely-crowned giant heads, oddly misshapen, tilted at various angles and weathered as heavily as anything on Skyloft. The air was dry and warm, tasting of nothing, smelling of little more.
Fi sprang from the sword to hover before him.
“A report, Master Link. We have arrived in the Lanayru region. This arid region was transformed into a desert over the course of several hundred years. My projections show that Zelda must have travelled through this area.”
Link nodded, slowly. “She’ll have gone to this Gate of Time, right?”
Fi inclined her head.
“And that’s where I have to go too… for the trials I’m supposed to face.”
Again, Fi gave a single nod.
“Then I guess…” He sighed, the faint sound lost in the ceaseless gusting of wind over sand and rock. “Can you show me the way to the Gate of Time? And tell me if you find any trace of her aura?”
“I shall do so. Be aware that we may not be able to follow a direct route through the desert. I will attempt to direct you along the optimal path according to the hazards and obstacles that we discover.”
“Thanks, Fi.” Link looked around, seeing sand stretching out in all directions. Even as he did, he felt the faint insistent sense of directionality at the back of his mind, guiding him to turn slightly, to walk to the edge of the remarkably flat platform he stood on and look down. His footfalls sounded almost strange, as if he were walking on something hollow, maybe even metallic though it didn’t quite look it, and he was still turning that over in his head as he peered over the edge.
Some quirk of the wind had scoured the worst of the sands away from the rocky outcrop below – far below, a long scramble down a nearly-vertical…
“Fi, we’re not on top of one of those statues, are we?”
“Your observation is correct, Master. Your landing was remarkably accurate.”
Link smiled a little. “It just looked like a convenient circle of something that was probably rock.” He knelt, rapping his knuckles experimentally on the dark surface beneath his feet. It didn’t quite feel like metal, but it was warm as metal in the sun, and it rang mutedly under his hand as though it were thick, but ultimately hollow. “I guess I was half right.”
Gripping the edge with one hand, he leant out, trusting his weight to his left arm as he looked down the side of the statue. Something that might have been bulbous eyes protruded from it, offering ledges wide enough to balance on, and the lower half looked to be covered in carvings below a recess that ran around it as far as he could see, which he assumed had to be the base of the head. It wasn’t going to be the easiest climb he’d ever made, but he didn’t think it would be impossible, either. Fi returned to the sword as he turned around to begin the climb, lowering himself from the edge until his feet caught another.
Although he’d been right that it wouldn’t be entirely easy, Link was on the ground before long, jumping the last few feet and landing on rock and sand at the statue’s base. Traces of an ornately decorated floor with a distinct path through it were visible through the thin sand, and two little bird statues with their wings spread flanked the giant figure, still looking almost incongruous down here despite how many times he’d come across them elsewhere on the surface. Something that didn’t quite look like rock stuck up from the shallow sands nearby, and Link ventured towards it with a slight frown. What did it remind him of…?
Whatever it was, it had a face, of sorts: a face like a child’s drawing, save carved into some darker patch upon pale stone, with mismatched eyes, a triangle for a nose, and another little triangle for a mouth that gave it a look of someone mildly but unpleasantly surprised. Above the face was a kind of carven crown, and below it the head seemed to merge seamlessly with what Link had to assume was its body, flat sections on either side suggesting it might once have had arms, now long lost. Tilted at a strange angle, it looked something like a broken statue and something like an oversized toy.
Somewhat to his surprise, Fi emerged again to hover near it, placing herself at the third point of a perfect triangle and looking down at it.
“My analyses indicate that this object has been broken for many years. I am unable to provide a useful estimate of the duration. I am also unable to analyse the content of its databanks at this time due to the level of degradation.”
“What is it?”
“This is a robot, Master Link. This individual appears to be one of the LD-301 series of artificial life-forms. As one of a number of robots mass-produced in an era when human contact was expected to be impossible, it would not have been assigned a name you would be capable of remembering or pronouncing on creation. This physical design is primarily associated with mining and maintenance duties.”
Link blinked, Fi’s explanation providing so many half-formed questions he didn’t even know how to begin – until the half-familiar word connected with the faint, nagging sense of recognition that had drawn him to it, and his eyes widened.
“A robot – like the one at the back of Gondo’s smithy?! It looks almost like it!”
Fi paused for just an instant, and Link guessed she was sorting through her phenomenal memory to recall their trip to the marketplace earlier in the day. They’d only glanced into the smithy, Gondo asking how Link’s heat protection had held up, and the statue-like shape beside a pile of scraps in the back had just been another old, familiar bit of furniture to him, one he would only really notice if one day it vanished.
“Yes. The inactive robot there is 90% likely to be of a similar model, although I did not conduct a detailed analysis at the time.”
“Gondo always says he’s going to get that thing working again one day… I never knew how many of the stories to believe. Are they really… well, people?”
Her head tilted fractionally. “They are capable of a full range of human-like thought and emotion, with a full capacity for independent action, Master, and in that sense may be termed people. However, uniquely among thinking entities, they do not possess spirit.”
Link frowned, trying to wrap his head around the concept. Everything alive had a spirit, even if it was just the faintest and slightest wisp of one, or so he’d always been taught, always believed. Even some things that weren’t alive had spirits.
“How… how is that possible?”
“You do not currently possess the technical knowledge required to understand the explanation, Master Link.”
Although her musical voice was as emotionless as always, it sounded to Link suspiciously like an understatement.
“How long would it take to explain it to me?”
“In order to impart the requisite information, I estimate that it would take a minimum of five years of full-time study on your part, Master. This estimate has already been shortened by my current assessment of your capability and willingness to learn, on the assumption that the information were to become necessary to you.”
Link whistled softly. Five years… not to complete an apprenticeship, or learn all the skills required of a Knight of Skyloft, but just to understand the answer to one simple-sounding question?
“I guess that’s okay then.” He shifted his weight, looking back at the motionless object, suddenly seeing it as something more like a husk, a hollow and empty corpse. “We don’t really have time to bury it, do we.”
Fi shook her head. “Even if you were to do so, the probability that the winds would sweep away the sand you had moved is almost 100%.”
“Yeah…”
Fi returned to the sword as, gathering his resolve, Link turned away, back towards the subtle sense of direction she was providing him with. The dead robot had probably been there for hundreds of years – long enough that even Fi didn’t know how long it had been. There was nothing he could do for it now.
A cleft in the side of a rock formation near the statue proved to be his goal, wider than he’d first realised and sloping down in oddly stepped intervals. In places, a darker strip somewhat like a continuation of the path he’d seen before showed through the shallow sand. With a raised bar in the centre, it was mildly difficult to walk on without paying attention, although Link supposed it would at least offer solid ground. Like the statue, it sounded almost metallic, yet didn’t appear to have suffered any corrosion, and barely more erosion. Had it really been as long as Fi had said?
At the bottom of the slope, an entrance loomed before him, clearly constructed from similar materials. Tall, blocky, and sturdy, it still had some decoration around the edges of individual panels, and in the centres of a few. Beyond, it gave way into what seemed to be a rock-hewn passage, sand strewn across the stone floor where it must have blown in from the entrance. Link looked into the darkness, and paused to extract and light his lantern, throwing the passage before him into sharp relief.
Master Link, I am able to confirm that this is the entrance to a mine. Standard construction procedures in this region dictate that a mine such as this one will have multiple exits. I calculate that your progress will be at least 50% more efficient below ground than above it due to the desert terrain.
Link nodded. It made sense, and if Fi said it would be easier going down here, he believed her.
“Thanks, Fi.”
Holding his lantern in his off hand, he stepped forwards, into the caves.
Notes:
Another heads up, good readers: I’m going to be busy for the next couple of weekends again, so while I will try to stay ahead of myself and keep the chapters coming, don’t worry if I miss one or the other – if I do, I’ll be back by next month!
Patch Notes
- Ladder only Link would need removed from place he has never been; Link now climbs instead.
- Fi’s descriptions of robots adjusted for internal consistency and for consistency with the backstory.
Chapter 41: Shards of the Past
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The metal-like strip had led Link along a wide, high-ceilinged, remarkably regular central passage, sloping down quite steeply. Smaller caverns opened occasionally on both sides, but Fi had quickly identified them as dead ends, and Link had trusted her judgement. Once, he’d disturbed a colony of keese, but the big bats’ panicked fluttering had been only an attempt to escape, and they’d flown past him into the darkness, their hard-beating wings and tiny shrill squeaks fading quickly into the underground silence.
And it was silent: dead silent. Link’s footsteps on the gritty rock or not-metal and the sound of his breath seemed like the only sound in all the world, without even a breath of wind to stir the air. It was cool, but not freezing, and as long as he kept moving he’d been able to easily keep warm. Alone in the dark, with only his lantern for light and trusting in Fi to warn him if he needed to douse it, he’d lost all track of time.
It was almost a shock when the slope of the tunnel levelled out, the strip splitting in multiple directions in a complex, radiating pattern made entirely out of curves. Link blinked at it, frowning: it seemed needlessly complicated, and the monotony of the walk made it all the more of a surprise. What in the sky was it for?
From the shape of this junction, I calculate a 97% probability that we are reaching a central sector of the mine, Fi said, her voice quietly musical in his mind. However, I recommend halting in or near this location. My chronometry shows that the sun is currently one-quarter set. It is advisable that you rest before proceeding further.
“Really?”
Link’s own voice echoed from the walls, startling him after the long near-silence. He thought back through the day: waking on the ground by the volcano; calling his loftwing and rising through the plume of ash; his explanation to the Headmaster; a very welcome bath or grooming for himself and his loftwing alike; the long conversation with Fi upon the Isle of the Goddess; the search for and – he hoped – rescue of Orielle… it had already been late when he’d dived, the sun well past its zenith. No wonder it was setting now.
“I guess I am tired.” He looked around, the junction area feeling a little too open for comfort. There had been a side passage not far behind, and venturing back a short distance proved that it was shallow and empty, ancient scores upon the dead-end wall showing where it had been roughly hewn from the rock in a way that the rest had not. The mismatch seemed odd, but more importantly, it was empty, and dry, and seemingly safe.
“Do you think it’d be safe to sleep here?” he murmured.
Yes, Master Link, came the silent reply. I detect no danger in the area. It is almost 100% certain that you will pass the night undisturbed in this location.
“Thanks.”
After a little thought, Link extracted the sailcloth and refolded it into a crude bed, just enough to cover him and insulate him at least a little from the hard rock floor. He ate a stuffed bread roll from the package Henya had prepared for him before laying belt and baldric aside, the pale hilt of his sword left by his head within easy reach. Lying down, he automatically blew out the lantern – and froze.
The darkness was absolute, as thick around him as a physical thing. He waved his hand before his face and saw nothing, the faint motion of air and his own sense of self warning him less than an inch from hitting himself in the nose. How was he ever going to get the lantern lit again when he couldn’t even see it?
Almost as if in response to his thought, a faint glow began to rise from somewhere. Link looked down, squinting in the darkness, to where a pale cylindrical shape with pommel and guard ghosted into his vision, and he almost laughed in sudden relief.
“Fi… thanks.” Still propped on one elbow, he looked at the Goddess Sword’s hilt, and the very, very faint lines of charcoal on black sketching shapes around it. “For a moment there I thought…” I thought I’d done something very stupid.
The hilt brightened for an instant as the spirit sprang from it, casting very little light herself yet still seeming to glow in the darkness, perfectly visible.
“Your concern is sensible, Master. However, I am capable of producing illumination if necessary, although it is inefficient. Please draw the sword if you desire more light. Since I do not require sleep as you do, I will additionally monitor the surroundings while you rest.”
Link smiled broadly in tired, relieved gratitude. “Thanks.” He unfolded the arm he’d propped himself up on, lying gently down in his uncomfortable makeshift bed. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
Fi tilted her head ever so slightly, as she sometimes did when assessing his words.
“I am certain. Although it is inefficient, causing the sword to glow is a negligible use of my power. Although I do not need to project myself from it in order to observe the environment, I calculated that the visibility of my projection would cause you increased reassurance, and I detect that it has done so.”
Link shook his head slightly, smiling again, if more faintly. “Okay. Then…” He slipped his left hand from the enveloping folds of the sailcloth, resting it upon the pale hilt, his fingers black bars of darkness across it. “Goodnight, Fi.”
“Goodnight, Master Link.”
Despite the cold, hard underground surroundings, Link was asleep in a matter of minutes. True to her word, Fi continued to monitor the cavern around them, her projection floating noiselessly above the sword.
A part of her mind continued to assess her master’s words, adding them to the sum total of her experience. He possessed the qualities of kindness and concern for others, causing him to repeatedly seek to ensure her own well-being, although it was clear that he did not fully understand what constituted that well-being: the fulfilment of her purpose. Fi’s perfect recall allowed her to add the memory to a slowly-growing string of similar instances, and, contemplating them, determine that they formed a favourable pattern. It would be optimal for her to seek to ensure his well-being in a similar fashion, as she had attempted by appearing before him despite its lack of necessity. She had once been instructed to avoid inferring that remaining within the sword was required, and indeed, her appearance had always-
Had seemed to-
Fi adopted the appearance of kneeling in a motion so abrupt she barely passed through the intervening space, her awareness temporarily fully focused upon her master. Asleep, his youthful spirit retained its full strength, his higher mental processes largely still. She detected the exact number of millimetres his chest rose and fell with each breath; determined his internal body temperature and his rate of heat loss to his surroundings. Minor imperfections in his physiology caused him negligible disadvantage and so did not deduct from her analysis, although she assessed the recent scar upon his leg a second time lest there had been an error in her initial assessment. There was none.
Alone in the darkness with her sleeping wielder, Fi recognised that she had encountered the edge of the processing error, and had circumvented its worse effects. She had briefly withdrawn her attention from the majority of their surroundings, but she had not ceased to function, nor performed any significantly illogical actions. Assessing the situation in more detail risked provoking the error again, and she chose not to do so, instead remaining on guard in the darkness, part of her awareness staying sharply attuned to the sense of his spirit, the sound of his breathing, the outline of his form beneath sailcloth and clothing.
The night passed unremarkably, in stillness and in silence.
* * *
“Awaken, Master Link.”
Link blinked awake, Fi’s musical voice slipping through half-formed dreams and dispelling them into cobweb rags.
“What… Is it morning?” He squinted at the pale hilt, glowing softly in the otherwise unrelieved blackness, then looked up to where Fi was floating above it in a sitting pose.
“It is approximately one hour before the sunrise. Once we emerge onto the surface, you will find it uncomfortable to travel during the heat of the noon, although the effect will be lessened by your heat protection. It is therefore advisable to divide your activity into two periods.”
“Okay.” Link sat up, stretching stiffly, pushing all thoughts of sleep to the back of his mind.
“Please draw the sword to increase your available light, Master.”
Link smiled. “All right.” He reached over and drew it cautiously, the blade shining slightly brighter than the hilt with the cool purity of starlight, casting the cavern in silvered surfaces and shadow that moved as he moved his hand. After a moment’s thought, he set it down carefully atop the sailcloth, and leant to the side to reach for and light his lantern.
Fi returned to the sword as her master hastened through his simple morning routine, until at last he picked it up, still shining, and slid it back into the scabbard, already restored to its place across his back, and finally folded his sailcloth away.
“You ready, Fi?”
It seemed a redundant question. She was, after all, a sword, and her spirit had been created to guide and aid him. Being ready was not only part of her purpose, but something she would not have known how not to be. Still…
Yes, Master Link.
* * *
Returning to the arcing pattern of the junction, Link had recognised that the pattern seemed as though it primarily came from the same arched opening that Fi’s guidance was leading him to, with curves of almost-metal from it leading to every other passage. Encouraged by this realisation, he hurried onwards, lantern held high. The passage narrowed strangely at one point, as if a section of rock had been left to form something almost like a barrier; at another, a section of floor had been dug down in a sudden drop of nearly twice Link’s own height, and the rail that had once, he assumed, spanned the gap now lay more or less intact at its foot, fallen after uncounted ages. There were no signs of any supports, and it seemed to Link no wonder that it had collapsed. Standing on the edge, he frowned.
“Why’s there a hole here, Fi?” It had clearly been deliberately dug, too regular to be natural.
Unknown, Master. It is probable that it was dug as a countermeasure against an anticipated issue with the tunnel. This region was once bound within a repeating loop of time. As a result, events such as mineshaft collapses were highly predictable, and could be prevented with sufficient forethought. Apparent anomalies in construction may be due to such precautions.
“What, so… they knew which bits of the tunnel would collapse, and… didn’t let them?”
Essentially, that is correct.
“Whoa.” The thought was almost dizzying. Link wondered what it would be like if his own people had such knowledge, if they knew which islands would be battered by storms long before the clouds even began to darken, or what edges would finally give up the fight against erosion and crumble unexpectedly away.
It didn’t, however, help him cross the gap. Looking down into the hole, Link judged his landing site carefully, and stepped off the edge.
He landed hard, dropping into a crouch to dissipate the shock, standing straight again swiftly. The shadows of the rail whipped back and forth wildly as his lantern’s flame stabilised, seeming to set half the ground into motion that calmed only slowly – except for one spot. Link grimaced as he recognised a gelatinous ooze seeping up from hair-fine cracks in the ground. More gross than really dangerous, the only way such a blob was likely to be able to harm an adult human was if it came on them sleeping, though children and pets were more vulnerable. On Skyloft, he would have cut the thing apart on principle; here, in the desolate mines, he simply ran past before it could finish extruding itself from the ground, snatching out the digging claws that Nackle the mogma had given him and gouging crude but effective handholds from the rock as he climbed, leaving the pale, yellowish ooze pulsating aimlessly behind him.
There were no more dangers as he pulled himself up, silently thanking the mogma again for his gift as he stowed the clawed gloves away once more and continued along the tunnel. It curved gently to the left, then opened into another passageway, near-metal rails curving gently into one another. To the right, the rail split into multiple sections, all of them dead-ends as far as Link could tell, ending in a solid rock wall. Several of them were occupied by what looked to be wheelless carts, bigger than he thought a single person would be able to easily pull. They appeared to have a notch on their undersides that the raised centre of the rail fitted into with room to spare, and he guessed from the look of them that they were probably meant to slide along it. Perhaps it had been slipperier, even polished, in ages past? He doubted any of them would move now.
Turning back to the left, the passage narrowed somewhat into another constructed doorway, more like the one he’d passed through up above. Beyond seemed to be a wide open space, veiled in shadow. Lantern held high, Link walked towards it, watching as the darkness slowly retreated before his light.
The cavern was huge. Link passed the inert corpse of another robot as he entered, this one armless but with its hands still incongruously remaining on the ground nearby, but he could only spare a glance at it, staring around at all that his lantern was showing him. Strange machinery loomed from every wall, covered in the dust of ages; metal rails described great loops around its edge, one with a cart still resting on it. Another few misshapen lumps proved, as Link cautiously approached, to be yet more dead robots, and a strange obelisk his own height stood in the centre of the room, atop what Link presumed to be an ornate dais.
“What is this place, Fi?” he murmured, his soft voice thrown back in whispering nonsense echoes from the walls. She sprang from the sword to answer him, hovering calmly to his right.
“This would appear to be a preliminary ore processing hub. It is likely that others similar to it exist elsewhere in this mine. The transport system was highly efficient: ore would be sent through the first stage of processing in the machines here and deposited into the carts you observed previously, which would transport it out of the mine. I detect that the power source for the local subsystems remains functional; however, the systems themselves have deteriorated with time.”
So there’s power, but everything’s broken, Link thought. Sort of the opposite of Beedle’s Airshop…
Two other exits seemed to lead out of the room, identical to his save in that both were blocked by closed doors. Turning and walking back to the one he had entered through, Fi drifting alongside, Link checked inside the frame. It looked as though there was a door, but it was already open, and looked to be stuck that way.
“I detect that the door in this entranceway has previously malfunctioned,” Fi stated, backing up his guess. “From the open panels nearby, I deduce with 92% probability that the inactive robot here was engaged in repairing it at the time of deactivation.”
Link frowned. “He was in the middle of fixing a door? ...What killed them all, Fi?”
“Unknown,” Fi replied. “It is known that all the robots in the Lanayru region were deactivated apparently simultaneously, approximately forty years into the temporal cycle that formerly governed this area. The cause was not discovered before the raising of Skyloft.”
Link breathed out, slowly. The thought of their sudden, simultaneous deaths made the empty mine even more creepy. “Right… Let’s get out of here.”
Fi inclined her head once, returning to the sword as Link thought for a moment, focusing on the subtle sense of direction that she provided him with, then crossed to the right-hand door. It seemed to split along three lines: an upper section, a lower left, and a lower right. Try as he might, Link could budge none of them. There wasn’t even anywhere he could get a good grip.
My analysis confirms that the opening mechanisms of these doors have ceased to function due to the passage of time, Master.
“So… so this is a dead end?” It was a more unsettling thought than it had any right to be. Link thought he sensed Fi considering for a moment before she replied, although she did so without any noticeable hesitation.
Not necessarily. It may be possible to restore functionality to this region temporarily. Observe the power source in the centre of the room.
Link turned to face it; crossed over the rails and stepped up onto the dais, his feet striking a muted ringing from the floor beneath him. Slightly wider at the top than the base, the obelisk was decorated in complex patterns, and in places Link could see deeper within it, as if its structure were layered.
“This thing?” he asked, gesturing to it.
“Correct,” Fi replied, vaulting from the sword to hover beside him. “The power source for this chamber is a refined form of material known as Timeshift Stone. A sizeable chunk of refined Timeshift Stone is contained within this structure. Among the properties of the stone is its capacity to create a sustained temporal distortion field in the immediate area. I calculate that the refined stone within this device will produce a distortion of sufficient magnitude to reach the doors, potentially restoring the local power network to a functional state within its extent and thus rendering them operable.”
“So it… warps time?” Link was frowning, valiantly doing his best to keep up. He’d never even heard of such a thing before. “And it’d… I guess make the doors younger? So they’d work again?”
Fi nodded once. “That is an adequate summation.”
“How do we make it work?”
“Refined Timeshift Stone will initiate a temporal distortion following any significant impact. Since you do not have suitable tools available to you, I recommend striking the power core with your sword. It is not possible for a mundane impact to damage any part of the sword.” She gestured as she spoke, raising one arm, draped as always in fluttering metallic fabric, towards the obelisk.
“Are… are you sure?” It felt almost sacrilegious to use the perfect blade as a hammer.
“I am certain, Master.”
“Well… all right, then…” Link took a deep breath, and drew the sword from its sheath, holding it up somewhat awkwardly with the blade pointed backwards over his shoulder. Glancing at Fi – who inclined her head – for confirmation, he braced himself and struck it with the pommel as hard as he could. The sharp ring of metal on metal was underscored by a deeper, more resonant note, and-
Link could have sworn he felt himself unbreathe, felt a queasy moment of unthinking some thought that he would never know whether or not he might have completed, as a wave of light washed across the room. He gasped in shock, automatically stepping backwards, away from the power source, a pale blue light streaming from the deeper openings within it, the metal floor suddenly free of the dust of ages and filled with brightly coloured inlay, a myriad clanking and whirring sounds sounding from all around him. To his utter shock, he saw the robots’ corpses judder into motion, their hands linking to their bodies by what seemed like chained lighting, each of them hovering above the ground. The dusty cart that still sat atop one of the rails lifted into the air, brightly coloured and shining as if new, and light as bright as the sun shone down from the rock ceiling above, dazzling him.
“What- Fi, what-” Link turned in a frightened circle, sword in a guard position, blinking sudden tears from his eyes and squinting grimly through their lashes at the brilliantly lit chamber.
“I am able to confirm that a time-shift has occurred within this space,” Fi said from somewhere to his left, her musical voice impossibly calm. “There is no cause for alarm. As predicted, this area has entered a past time-state. It appears that the Timeshift Stone has reverted the surroundings to early in the temporal cycle.”
“We’ve travelled back in time?” His eyes were adjusting, slower than he would have liked, but enough that he risked lowering his sword.
“No, Master Link. Rather, any element of the surroundings that existed at that time has been temporarily reverted to the state that it was in at that time. Thus, the machinery in this cavern is now active and fully functional. In addition, it appears that the robots in the immediate vicinity have similarly been temporarily restored.”
A short, loud sound like a cross between a buzz and the high-pitched ‘tweet’ noises some of the little birds Link had seen before on the surface made sounded from Fi’s direction, and Link spun to face it, finding himself looking past her at one of the robots. Undulled by time, it was now pale with brightly-coloured trim, mismatched eyes seeming to gaze up at him, the highest point on its crowned head barely even reaching his chest despite how it floated above the ground. A blue lens flicked over one eye as the strange figure turned from Fi to Link, and seemed to focus on the sword in his hand.
“Vreep!” it went again.
“I detect that the robot attempting to communicate with us does not possess a suitable linguistic database, Master. I will communicate my own to it.”
You can do that? Link thought, as Fi turned to the robot and… said nothing at all. He was about to speak, uncertain, when the robot suddenly spoke up, every word perfect and with the same Academy-taught accent as Link himself.
“Where did you come from?” <dzeet> Another of the strange sounds followed its words, and Link wondered what it meant.
“I, uh… that way?” Link pointed back the way he’d come. “I need to get through this mine…”
“This is a mine for Timeshift Stones,” the robot informed him. “The stones may be dangerous for humans! You should keep a safe distance from blue stones at all times, and try not to get in the way of mining operations. Your physical structure is fragile and may be at risk.”
<Zweep!> Another loud sound abruptly emerged from the robot by the entrance, the one that had been repairing the door.
“Did you cause damage to the lighting systems beyond the door, human?” the first robot asked, dragging his attention back to it. Link shook his head, feeling rather on the back foot. The robots had been dead less than a minute ago, and suddenly this one was interrogating him?
“No, I haven’t touched anything back there… I really just need to get through the mine. I’m trying to go that way?” He pointed, following the constant faint nudge of Fi’s sense of direction, almost but not quite towards the closed door he’d tried before.
“You can’t go through there, human. That’s an active mine working, and we’ve barely begun to dig it out, <zrrt>,” the robot told him. “Why don’t you go that way?” It – he? She? Link didn’t have the faintest idea of how he might tell – pointed to the other door, the one that had been to Link’s left. “Follow the mine levirail to reach the ore processing facility, <tseep>. That route will take you safely back to the surface. But be careful to stay off the rail itself! You should not interfere with the carts’ running. They are significantly more durable than you!”
“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind. Thanks.” It’s like he doesn’t think anything happened… like he doesn’t know he died. Maybe he doesn’t. Fi said they were put back to how they were… however long ago it was. The robot interrupted his thoughts by turning to Fi.
“I do not recognise your design, but you are clearly a new and superior model! Please keep your human at a safe distance from all machinery as you leave the mines. I am transmitting a current schematic for navigational purposes, <fweet>!”
To Link’s amusement, Fi inclined her head gravely.
“Thank you,” she said, following it up with a strange and high-pitched whistle that lasted less than a second. The robot seemed to approve, tilting its body in what could almost have been a bow, and turned away.
“It is best that we proceed directly to the door indicated, Master Link,” Fi said quietly. “I will be able to activate it as we approach.”
“Okay.” Link took a deep breath, wanting to ask so many questions, the weight of his surroundings – of the unknowing, uncomprehending robots in his surroundings – silencing him. He crossed to the door, stepping cautiously over the rail that led beneath it. Fi vaulted back into the sword as he did, and as she had promised, the door opened before them, moving swiftly and easily on near-noiseless mechanisms. Link stepped through, and it shut behind him.
Notes:
Look, I did it! It’s longer than I expected. o.o
Poor robots. Link doesn’t know how to deal with this, either, but since they’re in this cavern and the temporal distortion fills it, only the robot fixing the door (it seemed more realistic that there would be three actual doors rather than mysteriously one entrance not having been given a door for some reason) is likely to realise that something isn't right…
Patch Notes
- Mine depth and extent increased.
- Digging claws continue to provide climbing functionality.
- Power source no longer a giant “hit me” button; Fi now helps with the doors to compensate.
- Swordsman who has been training half his life no longer risks damaging his sword by swinging it at random objects in the environment without significant prompting.
- Robots from over a thousand years ago no longer speak the modern Skyloftian language. (The Sheikah and other still-extant cultures that are in contact with them do speak variously-accented versions of it, in large part because people periodically fall from the sky and end up among them, bringing their linguistic changes with them; see Chapters 14 and 16.)
Chapter 42: City of Sand
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link had continued along a wide, steadily climbing passage, occasionally passing other robot corpses along the way, always following what looked like the ‘main’ rail at junctions. In response to his questions, Fi had explained as they went: the robots were restored to temporary activation while within the distortion field of a Timeshift Stone. It was, she’d said, indistinguishable from their original state, and for as long as the distortion lasted, they would remain fully functional. As soon as it ended, however, their components would return to their deteriorated state: they would once more cease to be. The thought made Link a little uncomfortable, and he’d walked in silence for a while after that, thinking through it all. He could bring them back to life, but only briefly, and only within the field. Should he have told them? Would it have helped them, or only hurt?
Eventually, the passage, now containing three separate rails, had steepened drastically, and Link had walked up and out into the heat of the late desert afternoon. Shading his eyes against the light, he looked around: he stood at the base of a low, sandswept bluff, and the tracks curved around to his right to climb it, held at intervals on brackets protruding from the rock. Some of them had fallen away, and none of the three tracks were complete; still, Link’s eyes followed them to the top, where tall buildings loomed over the edge, windowless and strange, battered and crumbled by time. There was no motion, no sound beyond the sighing of the sand in the wind, and when he turned his back to the bluff, all he could see was the trackless desert extending westward beneath the lowering sun, shining with almost its full intensity through the thin clouds.
The faint sense of direction Fi gave him pointed roughly northwards, along the edge of the bluff. Link turned that way once more, parallel to the broken rails, and wondered whether he should try to climb the rock face or walk at its foot.
“Fi?” he murmured. It seemed almost out of place to speak loudly in the strange land of dead robots, ancient buildings, and whispering sands. Fi sprang from the sword with her usual faint chime to hover before him, regarding him calmly.
“Yes, Master?”
“Do you think I should go up, or…?”
Fi seemed to consider for a moment, faster than he could have followed. “The data are inconclusive, Master. I possess a schematic layout of the city above as it was designed. Your primary purpose in this location is to reach a means of transportation enabling you to travel to the Gate of Time, to the north-north-west. There is a levirail station in the north of the city. I estimate a probability of 85% that you will be able to activate a levitrain and use it to continue your journey. This station can be accessed both from within the city and from the sands outside it.”
Link glanced towards the sinking sun, and, perhaps following his motion, so did Fi.
“There’ll be more shelter up there, in the city, right?”
“That is correct,” she confirmed. “Although it may also provide shelter for the small number of hostile lifeforms that are able to survive in the deep desert, the benefit to you will be significant. However, you may not be able to follow a direct course to your destination, since it is certain that some of the buildings will have fully or partially collapsed with time.” She paused. “Additionally, there is a possibility that water remains stored within the city’s reservoirs. However, the passage of one thousand years since those reservoirs were last accessed renders that probability below 20%. Should they prove empty, the time you will take to determine that fact would drastically decrease your probability of survival, since you would deplete the water supplies that you have brought with you in the process.”
“Is there a reservoir anywhere near this… levirail station?” Fi’s words made a grim sense. The longer Link spent searching for water, the more he would have to drink. He’d already got through more than half his first water bottle underground, even in the cool cavern air, even rationing it.
“Your projected path through the city can be made to pass one with a deviation of less than 15%. Shall I adjust my guidance to incorporate this as a destination?”
Link smiled a little, nodding. “Please.”
He felt his sense of direction shift, pointing him up the rails and into the silent city atop the bluff.
“Thanks.” Link paused for a moment. “Is there anything else I should know about this city?”
“The majority of my information is unlikely to be significant at this time, Master. I recommend that you begin the ascent while the angle of the sun remains favourable. I will return to the sword to avoid visual distraction.”
Fi suited actions to words, vanishing in a flash of light, and when Link nodded it was to empty air.
“You can tell me more when I get to the top, huh?
As he started walking along the rails, he was certain he could feel her silent assent.
* * *
Link pulled himself up onto the last segment of rail, holding on grimly tight as he swung one leg over it and let his weight rest. The bluff itself hadn’t been too difficult to climb, for the most part, but the structures built along its edge had, and Link had ended up climbing crabwise below them to the point where the walls dipped low enough for the rail to enter… the angles of which had sent him out terrifyingly onto the rails themselves. Climbing out over the open sky was one thing, his bird a whistle and a thought away – here, where there would be no time for the bird to arrive even if he were somehow flying nearby, he was far enough above the ground that his only hope of survival if he fell would be to whip out the sailcloth very, very quickly. Fi had helped, her calmly melodic voice in his mind warning him about parts that were unsafe before he could even touch them. This last jutting piece of rail was the final safe piece that she had identified, and if he could just… edge… forward…
Link’s reaching fingers met the section of rail embedded in solid rock a single hitching motion before his knees knocked against it. Murmuring a reflexive thanks to the goddess, he crawled onto solid ground and rolled onto his back, staring up at the increasingly gold-clouded sky, mouth dry and skin sweaty and grinning just a little in relief.
“We made it!” He let out a long, slightly shaky breath. “Thanks, Fi. I wouldn’t have wanted to do that without you.”
Her words came silently after a brief moment. You are welcome. Do you still wish me to impart more information about this city?
“Yeah… please.” Link rolled over and pushed himself to his feet. The buildings around him were all taller than anything on Skyloft except the Light Tower, and the three rails he had climbed each veered into closed doors on the ends of enclosed passages that emerged from the base of a particularly complicated-looking building.
As you are able to observe, the city is built upon an outcrop of rock that has prevented it from being swallowed by the desert. In ancient times, it was called Cronellon. The mine that we traversed was dug in anticipation of the eventual need of the deep-buried Timeshift Stone beneath this region of the desert, but at the time that this city ceased to function, it would have been relatively unused.
“So they were using the mine a little, but it was mostly just there to be ready when they really wanted it?” Link had come to a pair of gates, ancient and timeworn, and set his shoulder to one to push it open with a squeal of reluctant, corroded metal.
That is correct, Master. Fi paused, and Link wondered how much she was condensing and summarising. Some regions of the city, primarily in a strip from the southeast to the north, were visited long ago by servants of the goddess. At that time, it was still possible to reactivate inactive robots provided that they had been sheltered from the elements. The robots restored in this fashion also became servants of the goddess, and some of them ascended with the islands to aid your people.
“Really?” The empty sand of the road seemed unmarked, save by Link’s own footprints. The largely windowless buildings loomed over him blankly, their long shadows cloaking the streets in cool shade. Despite how long he’d spent underground, it was a welcome relief after the climb in the desert heat.
Yes. Multiple robots were present at the raising of the islands. There is a 100% probability that the inactive robot we observed towards the rear of the smithy was one of them.
For a short while, Link fell silent. He’d always known that in a distant sense: the piece of scrap that had maybe, if you believed the legends, been a moving thinking person was as old as the islands, so people said. But it had always been a legend, far away and not quite real, maybe true and maybe just another story.
He turned a corner without really thinking, following the subtle tug in his subconscious, glancing from side to side at the strange, foreign buildings, some of them half crumbled, others just eroded and abraded to blocky featurelessness. Their doors were largely shut, a few here and there standing open, sand blown into the dark spaces beyond.
“Fi, were you there when the islands were raised?” he ventured.
Yes, Master Link.
It made sense and yet it stunned him all over again.
“What was it like?”
The power of the goddess, used in guardianship, was great enough to tear multiple large chunks of rock and soil from the ground, raise them into the sky, and enchant them to permanently float. You are descended from the people whom she had gathered in the chosen locations.
“I guess that makes sense…” His attention was held more by her first sentence than her second. “I don’t think I can even imagine it.”
Fi once again found herself evaluating her options. His curiosity had a high probability of being simple to satisfy: she could offer to expand upon her description with a fuller and more accurate account of the levitation of the islands, an offer he would almost certainly accept. If, however, he accepted the offer, she would run multiple risks. There was a small risk that a minor detail would prove significant, releasing additional information contained within his subconscious, and she had detected a small number of desert predators lurking in the shadows and the sands, awaiting the moment that the sun went down. Her master’s mere presence – his footfalls in the sand; the sound and scent of his breath; his very spirit would draw them to him, awakening from torpor to hunt this strange prey and all the nutrition and moisture contained within. If he were to be distracted, it would potentially slow or alter his reflexes. In addition, there was another risk that Fi could not calculate: that she would once again encounter a critical error while relaying the information, rendering her unable to assist him.
I am able to impart further information if you desire it, Master. However, I do not recommend requesting such information now. I have detected multiple predatory animals that are likely to emerge during the night should they detect your presence. Since the sun is already setting, I recommend focusing on your surroundings until we reach a secure location.
“Right.” Link’s hand went to the sword automatically, blue eyes keen as he searched the shadowed sands and empty nooks with an alert wariness, his steps landing more lightly, more cautiously.
Fi observed the instant adjustment in his behaviour, and found it a positive development. Though it had only been four days since he had accepted the blade and descended to the sealed lands, he had already developed as a warrior, building on the training that he had already had with the necessities of survival. Every such improvement increased the probability that he would complete the tasks and challenges that the goddess had set him, and ultimately fulfil his – and Fi’s – destiny.
Notes:
Sorry it’s taken so long! But look where we are now! ;-)
Saina couldn't have used these mines even if she had known that they existed (in her iteration, the mining region didn't even connect to Cronellon directly, and was accessed via a surface facility that was actually atop it, none of which would have been built until a good 200 years into the Cycle), since they were really only just beginning excavations when Something Mysterious* happened to all the robots of the Cycle.
Patch Notes
- Desert can no longer be crossed in an afternoon: size significantly increased.
* I suppose there’s another possible reason, in a version of the setting that isn’t this one, for all the robots to have simply… stopped: if, the moment that their objectives were complete, their creator (Hylia?) simply switched them off as having served their purpose. That would be a very different story to this one, though – in some ways, anyway. She will turn out to have form for just switching people off when she’s done with them, after all. In this version of the universe, that’s mostly through a lack of forethought in a certain sense (we’ll go into this in great detail at the correct times, so I won’t go on about it now), but in others, well, it could be anything. (In the wonderfully terrible dark AU the Floor Owl made me, the thing she became so very definitely would just do that.)
Chapter 43: Traces
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
By the time Link was nearing the reservoir, the last traces of the sun were the pink tinge to the thin clouds above, the sky behind them a deep, dark blue, almost black. The tall buildings of the city hid the sunset itself from him utterly, its streets like canyons cut with knife-like precision, and in their shadows, the creatures Fi had warned him about had already begun to emerge. He had dashed past two discoloured chuchus, yellowish as the one in the mine had been, and left them pulsating greedily over his footprints in the sand. Determined to reach the reservoir before he rested, Link forced himself to keep a measured pace, walking warily with sword in one hand and shield in the other, ready to defend himself against anything that might attack.
A report, Master Link. Fi’s soundless voice, melodic even in his mind, was unexpected, but welcome all the same. I detect traces of the goddess’ power reinforcing the structure ahead. As a result, I now assess the probability that this reservoir still contains water at 79%.
Surprised, Link almost stopped, his head turning as if he could see through the building beside him to their destination.
“The goddess?”
The traces are ancient, Master. I estimate that they date to approximately the same time as the raising of Skyloft. I therefore extrapolate that the goddess predicted that this reservoir would be useful in the future, and reinforced it accordingly to aid in your journey.
Link found himself feeling uncomfortable even as he was grateful for it.
“The goddess predicted that I’d come here?” he murmured, not letting his guard down as he edged around the last corner. The road ahead seemed relatively clear, as far as the flickering light of his lantern reached, the building Fi was directing him to still only a smudge of shadow well beyond its edge.
As her chosen, you and the spirit maiden were intended to travel to the Gate of Time in Lanayru, according to the message engraved in the aura of the Earth Spring. This city is a logical location to pass through given the position of the opening in the cloud layer.
“I guess that makes sense.”
The clouds above were already almost dark, the last faint traces of sunlight fading from them. Link’s flickering light was all that remained in the dark streets. The building Fi seemed to be leading him to was smaller than he’d expected, lower than most of those around it and relatively narrow, odd, humped shapes rising slightly above the level of its roof. The doorway was open, a darker rectangle in the night.
“Can you tell if there’s anything in there, Fi?”
I detect two life-forms within, Master. They are currently located in an ambush position on either side of the door. Further analysis confirms that they are Aracha. Initially rare, these arachnids prospered over the course of the temporal cycle as the climate became increasingly arid, as they are well-adapted for such conditions. Although these individuals are relatively small and do not pose a significant threat in terms of mass, they possess a poisonous sting, which, while non-fatal, will cause you notable discomfort should it break your skin. Aracha grow throughout their lifespans, and are predicted to be able to live for over one thousand years. They are sensitive to vibrations through the ground and have a well-developed primary eye which is exceptionally sensitive to movement. Aracha will attack creatures of any size, relying on numbers to immobilise and cumulatively kill their prey. Their primary mode of attack is to leap upon the prey from ambush.
“Right…” Link’s eyes darted from side to side, guessing where the creatures would likely be. He advanced cautiously, sword at the ready, shield held low to his right. The open space beyond was strewn with sand, blown in through a door left open for a thousand years. Tense, he stopped just before the door, extending the shining blade forth ahead of him. For a moment, nothing happened – then, with a scuffle of sand, two chitinous shapes leapt upon it, attempting to grasp the sword with segmented legs, tails raised high as if to strike! Link swept the blade violently to the side, dragged down by their combined weight though it was; the peerlessly smooth blade slid through the insectoid creatures’ grip, depositing both on the sandy floor, and he darted forwards before they could right themselves, stabbing down. His target’s exoskeleton split with a sad little crack beneath the blow, the sword stopping only when it hit the floor beneath, but the second one righted itself while he was still drawing back and leapt for him again. Link kept his shield in the way, holding it against the sudden impact and weight, eyes widening as a pair of pincers appeared over the top, then more of the creature, clambering swiftly upwards. As its purplish primary eye peered over at him, Link twisted the shield in his grip, tilting it away; sliced along its top with an awkward slash of the Goddess Sword and all but bisected the creature. The pieces fell to the floor, twitching in its death throes, and all was still once more.
Link paused to wipe down his blade, though, as ever, it didn’t seem to need it.
“Was that all of them?”
Yes, Master Link. I recommend placing the corpses outside and finding a means to close or bar the door. This will serve as a defensible campsite if you are able to do so.
Link nodded, slinging the shield onto his back and slightly reluctantly sheathing the sword. The dead aracha were oozing unpleasantly, dark in his flickering light. He scooped up the pieces and tossed them into the road outside, careful of the stings that now curled stiffly towards their bodies. Kicking sand over the stains they left behind more or less finished the job.
Finally free to look around, he scanned the room, turning slowly on the spot to take it all in. There was a single internal door, low and narrow enough that he would have to duck to get through it even if he could get it open, some sort of markings faintly visible on it beneath centuries of dust. Large pipes emerged on either side of it, running to the side walls and passing through them; Link assumed they were some of the same ones he’d seen as humped shapes from outside, plunging into the ground on either side of the low building. Some barrels made of something that didn’t quite look metallic and certainly wasn’t wood stood lined up beneath them. Angled boards stood out from the walls in a couple of places, and something like a noticeboard hung on a flat space of wall by the door, dusty rectangles of what he presumed were paper still on it. Beneath it, propped against the wall at an angle, was a fairly blank metal plate, crude handles welded onto it like an oversized shield. Link frowned, experimentally gripping them and trying to lift it: it was heavy, but manageable, and big enough to almost completely cover the door. Gritting his teeth with the effort, he carried it awkwardly into place, bracing it against the doorway and dragging a couple of empty barrels behind it to keep it upright, which had the added advantage of covering the ichor stains beneath the sand.
It’s like someone has been here before… “Fi?”
She emerged from the sword in a flash of light and a soft chime, floating before him in the near-empty room.
“Someone else has been here, haven’t they?”
“My analysis confirms that you are correct, Master. The disturbances to the dust indicate that the presence was recent. However, an effort appears to have been made to remove or obscure all spiritual traces, as well as the physical. I cannot confirm the identity of the individual or individuals. I conclude that the probability of a trained member of the Sheikah having been present is above 60%.”
“Zelda was with a Sheikah…” Link remembered the tall, thin woman with a twist of bitter self-recrimination in his heart. She’d all but told him he wasn’t good enough. “Do you think it could have been her?”
“I cannot provide an accurate identification at this time. Your suggestion is plausible, however, since the goddess’ instructions directed you both to seek the Gate of Time.”
Link sighed. “I hope it was. We can’t be too far behind them. I guess we just have to push on…” He began to sit down, then changed his mind, looking at the pipes. “Can you tell if there’s water here, Fi?”
Fi nodded, smooth and emotionless. “Water is contained within the reservoir. However, the pumping mechanisms are no longer functional. You will need to either enter the reservoir itself via a maintenance access hatch, or find a means of restoring the pumps. Extrapolating from our experience in the mines, the use of a Timeshift Stone to do so has an almost 98% probability of rapid success.”
“However, we don’t have a Timeshift Stone,” Link finished for her, and Fi nodded once again. “I’d have to go look for one.” He sighed, sitting down on the sandy floor. “Well… at least I can safely drink now. I’ll work out how to get water in the morning. It might be fastest just to get into the reservoir…”
Fi didn’t seem to disagree, looking on impassively as Link took a waterskin from his belt and allowed himself a long, thankful drink of the somewhat warm, flat-tasting water. He hadn’t wanted to take the risk until they were sure about the reservoir, but knowing that he didn’t have to ration it for this one night made him want to drink as much as he could. He’d never thought he’d be quite so glad of a simple drink of water.
“Fi,” he asked quietly, leaning back on one hand, “is it safe to tell me about the raising of the islands now?”
The softly luminous spirit inclined her head gravely, and once again Link had the momentary impression that she was assessing her words.
“Please extinguish your lantern to conserve it, and draw the sword to provide yourself with illumination, Master.”
Link smiled. “Okay.” He did as he was bid, listening in the faintly blue-lit darkness to Fi’s musical voice.
“A thousand years ago, the goddess’ people dwelt primarily in a walled city in the Faron region, which had been erected to defend them from the demons. When their attack came, the goddess Hylia determined to save all non-combatants by gathering them in predetermined locations and raising those regions into the air. Only those who volunteered to fight in the final battle against the demons were to remain on, or return to, the surface: almost eight thousand people were gathered in the chosen locations. The goddess assumed the form of a great bird, flying above the islands. The forces required to tear that quantity of rock and soil from the surface of the world were…”
Link tried to imagine it as Fi spoke, supporting himself on his left hand with his fingertips resting over the hilt of the sword, waterskin half-forgotten in his right. Despite how strange it was, he felt he could almost picture it, could almost imagine the ground shaking under his feet in the grip of those trememdous forces; almost imagine hundreds of people around him clinging to one another or to the ground, looking around wide-eyed as they lifted into the air… and above it all, the goddess: no longer a statue or an idol in a little shrine, but a huge bird of golden light, wheeling above and lifting them higher with every incredible wingbeat. For an instant, his own everyday home seemed fantastical, impossible, a blessed gift. Everyone knew that the goddess had raised the islands… but it had never felt so real.
Yet, somehow, as her description drew to a close with the islands floating safely in the sky above where they would remain for a thousand years, he didn’t feel wonder so much as foreboding.
“I guess the battle happened next, for everyone on the ground, didn’t it, Fi?”
“Yes,” Fi said simply.
“I thought so. It… felt like it had to, somehow.” Link shook his head, holding back a yawn that crept up on him. “Thanks for telling me about it. Everyone knows that the goddess raised the islands, but… it’s never really felt like something that really happened before. They’ve always been there.”
Fi tilted her head slightly for an instant. “Since they have been present for between thirty-five and fifty human generations, or approximately ten times your maximum life expectancy, that is an understandable misconception, Master.”
Link couldn’t help but smile.
Notes:
This week Ardil learnt: that scorpions bear live young and carry them around on their backs until they are tough enough to survive alone. Adorable!
Patch Notes
- Water availability now relevant and accounted for.
Thanks as always for the comments and kudos!
Chapter 44: Shadows and Depths
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Everyone was watching as Link stood at the edge of the island. He was going to jump. Everyone expected him to jump; he had said he would do it. He knew he would jump.
He walked to the edge in silence. The crowd were cheering, but he couldn’t hear them, only the wind in his ears. He was going to jump.
No-one was going to catch him.
He looked over the edge, into the clouds below, deep grey around the darkness. It was inevitable, it was the only way. He couldn’t change it. Yet his heart raced as he desperately searched for a way out, even as he stepped back again: five paces back, run forwards, leap.
Link whistled, but his loftwing wasn’t there. He fell towards the clouds, panicking, knowing nothing could save him. His loftwing was gone. Zelda wasn’t coming for him, couldn’t come for him. The darkness opened up before him, and he slowed, realising numbly that he was holding the sailcloth she’d made for him.
It wasn’t going to save him.
Link’s eyes snapped open as he woke with a gasp, his heart racing, the hard floor beneath him impossibly reassuring in its solidity. A bluish shape resolved itself into Fi, hovering by his side and looking down at him, strange and too perfect. The faint light from the Goddess Sword cast the room in subtle shades, picking out edges in silver-blue light. He was on the surface- in the desert-
“Master Link.”
Link refocused on Fi, and her endlessly calm voice.
“I detected significant disturbances to your sleep.”
“Yeah…” He sat up and rubbed his hands over his face; through his hair, the sense of strangeness and threat slowly fading. “It was a bad dream, I guess.”
“You have previously expressed a concept that is also recorded in my database: that humans can find it emotionally helpful to speak of such things to others. Would it assist you to do so now?”
Link ran her words through his head a second time, and smiled, faintly. “Are you sure you want to hear about my stupid dreams, Fi?”
Fi thought about that question for slightly longer than she had intended to. To want something as humans did was not in her design. Emotion was necessary for desire, and she possessed neither. However, a preliminary evaluation did suggest that it would be a course of action favourable to her wielder’s well-being. That the conclusion appeared to have been assigned slightly more weight than she could justify suggested a fault in her analysis, but Fi decided that she would assess that later, when her master was not awaiting her response. He had already waited for over a second, and it was probable that further delay would cause his emotional state to change in a negative fashion.
“If speaking of your dreams will improve your emotional state, then I encourage you to do so, Master.”
You never say you want anything, Link thought. Even when I was trying to work out what to do about the demon on Skyloft – about Batreaux – you never told me what you wanted. Just that you thought it was a bad idea. Do you actually want to hear? He regarded Fi, hovering nearby, her blank eyes somehow clearly focused on his own. You don’t have to be here. Well, you do, but you don’t have to be out of the sword. Have you been there all night again…?
“Well… I guess. It sounds a bit stupid, though. It’s nothing important. Just stuff that happened…” He sighed, leaning back on his hands. “It was about the time Groose kidnapped my loftwing, a few months ago. Except it seemed like everyone was watching, and Zelda wasn’t even there. I knew I was going to jump – that’s the stupid part. I knew my loftwing couldn’t come, he wasn’t there, I knew nobody was in the sky, and I knew I was going to jump anyway, like it’d already happened. I guess it had. Except, when it really happened, it was Zelda pushing me off the edge, and she caught me, too. But, in the dream… I don’t know. I just jumped, like I couldn’t do anything else. And then I was falling. I knew nobody would save me, I knew Zelda wasn’t there to catch me this time. Even when I remembered I had the sailcloth, it didn’t feel like it would help. Like I was going to fall into the dark clouds and I was going to die there.” He sat forward, shoulders hunched, curled in on himself. “It was stupid. I’ve landed with that sailcloth from above the clouds three times now, and it’s fine. But it felt… like it couldn’t be.”
Fi had adopted a kneeling pose beside him as he spoke, her subtly metallic face impassive, yet its closeness a comfort. Link had the impression she was thinking, though, as ever, he couldn’t entirely put his finger on why.
“It is common for individuals under stress to experience unpleasant dreams related to their situation, Master.” That was true, as far as it went, but her analysis suggested that there was a significant probability that the cause ran deeper, and was far more specific. “That you have done so is not indicative of any deficiency on your part.” She could not produce an accurate assessment of the probability that it was a direct consequence of her having told him of the raising of the islands, but even a crude estimate placed it above 60%. There was a further question that would allow her to significantly refine that estimate, however.
“Please relate the incident involving Groose that you referred to.”
Link sighed. “Well, okay.” His head lifted a little, however, as he set his memories in order. “It was a few months ago. Three or four, maybe? I woke up late since it wasn’t a class day, but I’d promised Zelda we’d practice for the Wing Ceremony together. I was kind of late finding her, and she teased me about it.” He smiled a little. It was the banter of old friends; there had never been any harm or malice in it. “But, as we were going to take off and get going, I realised I couldn’t feel my loftwing’s presence. He wasn’t anywhere nearby. Zelda thought I was still just teasing her back, and she pushed me off the edge.” His muscles tensed at the memory. “I tried, I called my loftwing with everything I had, but I could only feel this really faint, desperate frustration from somewhere far away. I couldn’t think of any way to stop myself falling – and then Zelda was there. She and her bird dived under me so I landed across them, and flew back up with me. Her poor loftwing pulled a muscle in her wing saving my life, but we made it back. She felt so bad…” He sighed again. For once, he hadn’t just been able to easily tell her it was okay. “We got her loftwing to the bird doctors and started out to look for mine. Zelda insisted on coming with me, and it was probably a good thing she did. I still don’t know how he did it, but Groose and his sidekicks had managed to trap him in the caves and bar the entrance. It took both of us to get him out again, and if Fledge hadn’t overheard them talking and told me about it it might have taken days before I could find him.” Days in which the loyal, brave bird would have been suffering, trapped, unable to fly, or to find food or water. Too many days and it could have been fatal, just as it almost had been, far quicker, for Link himself.
Fi updated her previous probability estimate to almost 90%. The similarity between the two sets of events was limited to Link falling; in his dream, as in the past, he had even had the capacity to do so safely. The danger had not been the landing, but what he would face when he did. The fall itself, at the time, he had even enjoyed. Isn’t this incredible? She had reminded him that she did not possess the capacity to find anything ‘incredible’ in the emotional sense that he used it. Well, can you feel mine? Since she was conscious of his emotional state, she had answered in the affirmative. Then I hope it’s good!
The traits of kindness and consideration, even for the spirit of a sword that had been designed solely for him to wield, had remained in him, the similarities more significant than the differences.
“I guess you’re right, it makes sense that I’d dream about it,” Link went on, and Fi recognised that she had inadvertently remained silent for too long. “When I think too much about where we are, or what we have to do, it’s honestly pretty terrifying. And apart from all this, that’s the scariest thing that ever happened to me.” He looked around himself at the empty room, his posture relaxing slightly more. “But it was just a dream this time. And I’m not… not out of control, like I would be if I was falling without my loftwing. I’m not even on my own.” His clear blue eyes swung back from the rest of the room and fixed on Fi’s, and for once it was the sword spirit who had the impression that her master was perceiving something beyond simply her projected appearance. “Does it worry you, Fi?”
“I am not capable of worry, Master.”
“I guess not…” Link shrugged, a little awkward. “But you tell me how likely you think everything is or isn’t. You have an estimate of how likely it is that we’ll succeed, don’t you?”
“Yes. It is extremely imprecise, however, since too many variables remain as yet unknown.”
“How much d’you think about it?”
Fi considered how best to interpret his query. “I update my assessment whenever relevant information is obtained. Each time that you achieve an objective, acquire a potentially useful item, or demonstrate or learn an additional skill, I am able to add that information to my analysis.”
“So you’re basically thinking about it all the time?”
“Not precisely, Master. The analysis is regularly, rather than constantly, updated.”
“Still.” Link twisted in his sailcloth bedding so that his entire body was facing her. “You wouldn’t bother if you were already certain we’d do fine, right? A hundred percent probability?”
“In that case, I would update the analysis only at negative events,” Fi agreed. It would be a waste of processing time to update such an analysis if favourable events occurred, since the probability of success could not rise above 100%.
“Maybe you don’t worry like I do. You don’t… feel it, here.” He pressed his right hand to his chest. “But that still sounds like worrying to me. Just, in a different sort of way.”
Fi went still and silent as she considered his words, but Link could all but feel her thinking them over, rather than the crushing absence that had happened when he’d said something wrong, like when he’d asked her why she was afraid of Ghirahim. He couldn’t really imagine existing without emotion, but Fi had said she did, so all he could do was try to understand it. He wasn’t sure he could, not really. And yet…
It had not occurred to Fi to attempt to describe her actions through the framework of the imprecise, emotional words that were second nature to her wielder. She had been programmed with definitions of them all, of course: linguistic definitions were necessary for speech. None of the definitions were entirely appropriate to her, but her master was not a person of strict definitions. While it was incorrect to state that she worried, was she exhibiting behaviour that he might reasonably characterise as worry – behaviour that would exemplify worry in another individual? It was not possible for her to worry as he would: she had been programmed without emotion in a deliberate and explicit choice that prevented her from diverting from her purpose. If she were to experience emotion, it would be a sign that she was significantly damaged, potentially beyond repair. If that were the case, the mission with which her master had been entrusted would be doomed to failure, whether directly or indirectly.
If, however, he simply referred to her behaviour – if his ‘in a different sort of way’ only referred to her repeated reanalyses – then, from a certain point of view, it would be self-evidently true. On the other hand, encouraging any misconception of emotion went against her imperative to provide her master with accurate information. However, she also possessed an imperative to encourage behaviours and personality traits which would be beneficial to him.
“Master Link,” she said finally, several seconds after he had finished speaking. “Inasmuch as the repetition of such an analysis corresponds to behaviours that would signify worry in another human, your analogy is not entirely incorrect. However, your statement that I do not feel worry is significantly more accurate.” She paused briefly, just long enough to mark a change of subject. “Your attempts to understand my perspective despite the difficulty it presents you are commendable.”
Link gave a small, uncertain smile. “I’m doing my best. I… I know you’ll probably say you have to, and I guess you sort of do,” and he glanced briefly at the glowing sword by his side before returning his full attention to the spirit projected from it, “but thanks for being here with me.” And if you asked me to put the sword down, I would. You wanted me to take it in the first place, but I wouldn’t drag you around against your will. “I feel a lot better now.”
Fi’s assessment of his condition concurred: his emotional state had significantly improved. “You are welcome, Master.” Her head turned towards the door, and Link felt her attention shift briefly. “Less than two hours remain until sunrise. I recommend that you investigate the reservoir and determine whether it will be possible to replenish your water supply.”
Link nodded. “All right.” He stood, careful not to step on the crumpled sailcloth that had once again served as his bed. “Uh… where should I start?”
“Close visual analysis shows that the hatch opposite the door is provided for maintenance access. The space beyond is cramped, but sufficient to admit you.”
“All right.” He paused to light his lantern, casting the room into light and flickering shadow, and picked the Goddess Sword up from the floor, sheathing it before buckling on the belt and baldric that carried its scabbard. Crossing to the maintenance hatch, he knelt before it, squinting at the dusty surface.
“What’s this?” Curious, he brushed dust away, revealing strange symbols made only slightly clearer by the process, flaked and faded with time.
“The sign reads ‘Maintenance Access Only’, Master.”
Link looked around at her, floating serenely behind him, and found himself smiling again.
“So that’s what you meant by ‘close visual analysis’…”
Fi inclined her head in a nod.
“Well, it looks like someone else has done something here recently.” What looked like some kind of catch or bolt at the bottom of the small door was largely free of dust. Link gripped it, then tried to move it: first up, then down, then sideways. It seemed to shift slightly more when he tried moving it rightwards, so he put all his strength into it, the ancient and stiff mechanisms resisting at first before finally, gratingly giving way. The door suddenly jumped forward slightly in its frame, and Link pulled it – creaking and screeching on untended hinges – towards himself, opening out and up. It stuck when he let go of it, and given how hard it had been to pull open, he doubted it would fall shut behind him.
“Anything in there, Fi?”
“I do not detect danger, Master. I shall return to the sword to avoid disconcerting you as you enter.”
Disconcerting me? Link thought, kneeling down to peer into the space beyond as Fi returned to the sword with a subtle chime and flash of light. It seemed to be a narrow opening between large pipes, ending in a cylinder – maybe for water storage? – with a square outline visible on the floor at its base. Trusting in Fi’s senses, he crawled in, looking around cautiously just in case, lantern held up in one hand.
The square outline proved to be a trapdoor, a simple handle offering a way to lift it up. Link pulled experimentally, and it almost flew into the air, the rusted hinges broken off and offering no resistance. Surprised, he set it to one side and waited for a moment before leaning forward to look in.
The cylinder ahead of him continued below the floor, and everything but that vanished into impenetrable blackness. Link held his lantern out over the hole, and, crouching low to the floor, lowered it through. Even then, it gave him little but greyness and a strange light shining back from below – no, Link realised moments later in a dizzying shift of perspective: the reservoir was vast, stretching away from him in every direction, still holding water after all this time, perfectly still in his lantern’s light. It was the reflection of his own lantern that he’d seen.
Even as he began to wonder how he could possibly reach the water, he realised that the regular pattern on the side of the column looked suspiciously like a carven ladder. Drawing the lantern back, he reached in with his off hand instead, stretching out to touch the ladder. Whatever it was made of – solid, and cold, and just rough enough to provide him with grip – it seemed sturdy enough.
“I guess I have to climb down there, huh, Fi?”
It appears to be the only viable means of reaching the water, Master.
If that was the case, then there was no other option. Link sat back, fastening his lantern securely to his belt, double-checking the hang of his scabbard. He didn’t really want to climb down into the darkness of the underground lake, but he’d done far worse, and he didn’t have much choice. Shifting position, he sat on the edge of the opening, placing his feet on the rungs – then, gripping the top edge, began to climb down.
It was easier once he was away from the trapdoor, easier and harder all at once, his single light descending slowly towards the still waters and casting back impressions from the walls in the middle distance. Other columns, all narrower than the one he was climbing, supported the roof, a sight for which he was quietly thankful. The air was still, humid, somehow old, and the thought that it had probably been undisturbed for a thousand years – save maybe, hopefully, by Zelda and the Sheikah – sent a shiver of strangeness through him.
The climb seemed almost shorter than it looked, and Link very nearly put his foot in the water before he realised he was at the bottom. Climbing down a couple more closely-spaced rungs – stopping just before the water would have lapped over the top of his boots – he lowered his body as far as he dared, his own motion turning the still surface into a scatter of scintillating reflections. Hanging on with his off hand, he awkwardly unhooked his empty water bottle from his belt, pulling the stopper with his teeth and lowering it down until his hand hit the ice-cold water and he could hear it begin to fill. Only once it had did he replace it with the other, partially empty already since he’d stopped rationing himself after Fi had determined there was water here.
With both filled, he started back up, conscious of every lap and ripple of the water, of his own breathing, of the way even the littlest sounds echoed back magnified in the silence of the reservoir. Keeping his focus on moving from one rung to the next, it was once again almost a surprise when he reached the top and could haul himself thankfully out, putting the trapdoor back in its recessed place with a sigh of relief.
It was another relief to crawl awkwardly back out of the cramped passage and close the hatch behind him, forcing it back into place and the strange catch closed once more. Standing, Link stretched, then crossed to his former sleeping space to shake out and fold the sailcloth, looking at it in his hands for a long moment before carefully stowing it away.
“I guess we should get going…”
I recommend doing so, Master. Assuming you maintain a cautious pace, you will reach the levirail station shortly before sunrise. It will be possible to determine your next steps in daylight, before the heat grows sufficiently to inconvenience you.
Link nodded. “Okay.”
He moved the barrels aside and slid the makeshift door along the wall, leaving it propped up for whoever might pass that way next. The corpses of the aracha that he’d thrown outside before he slept had vanished, presumably eaten by whatever other predators roamed the silent city.
He would have to be careful – but here on the surface, he always did.
Notes:
A longer one this time! But very few patch notes.
Patch Notes
- Link and Fi hold entire conversations not related to the in-game help.
- Previously moved in-game event now fully revisited.
Chapter 45: By Rail
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Other than avoiding a couple of the oddly yellowed chuchus, and cutting his way through another handful of aracha, Link’s journey through the predawn night was largely uneventful. The city’s strange buildings loomed above him, most still largely intact but some collapsed by time, and once he had to detour around a street completely blocked, both by rubble and by the sand that built up over and within the rubble. Apart from his footsteps and breathing, the occasional insect, and the soft whispering and rushing of the wind above the buildings, it was silent. A couple of times, the thin clouds above thinned enough that he could see one or two of the brightest stars through them, and the faint glow of the waning moon was never completely hidden.
The blocky shapes before him seemed higher than before, dark silhouettes against the slowly lightening sky. On the north side, Link thought he could see a narrow protrusion, perhaps a bridge leading gently down. Fi’s sense of directly led him unerringly towards it, and before long he was climbing the small hill, up towards some sort of long, flat structure.
The building Fi led him to was long and low, wide doorways standing open. Sand had blown in, even there, but as Link entered and squinted about in the gloom, he could see it hadn’t spread overly far from the doorway. The space he found himself in was huge and cavernous, pillars supporting the ceiling in places – a ceiling that seemed slightly lighter than it should, as if perhaps it were made from dirty glass.
“What is this place, Fi?” Even the whisper sent echoes shivering around the vast, dark hall.
This is the northern levirail station, Master. You must now determine whether any of the remaining levitrains have the capacity to transport you northward. Assessing the structural integrity of the station, I confirm that they are likely to have been sheltered from significant weathering.
Link nodded, lighting his lantern and slowly pacing forwards. Sand and dust and time dulled everything, and he could see little beyond the range of his light. Shapes loomed out of the shadows, small buildings within a building, then a kind of shallow trench, perhaps waist-deep, with a pair of thicker, wider rails than those the carts had used at its foot. He squinted into the darkness: was there another one beyond?
Multiple levirails pass through or terminate in this location, Master, Fi confirmed. I detect levitrains present upon three of the tracks.
Link nodded, drawing his sword. Its faint glow added little to his lantern light, but the feel of it in his hand, the certainty that Fi was with him as he searched for something he didn’t know how to recognise, was reassuring.
“Which way?” he murmured, and once again his voice set up a rush of whispering echoes, dying away only slowly. The dirty light from above was brightening slowly as the sun rose, but not enough for him to really see by.
Fi sprang from the sword, glowing faintly with a light that illuminated nothing but herself. Her musical voice set off no echoes as she spoke. “I detect three levitrains in the immediate vicinity.” She gestured gracefully onwards into the gloom. “I cannot determine their status at this range.”
Link nodded, walking in the direction she had indicated. He jumped down into the first trench; scrambled up again on the far side; did the same to cross the second. The paved ground was gritty with dust and stray sand, and everything was silent. A dark shape loomed ahead of him where he had expected a third trench, a long oblong with its top half his own height again above his head and still far below the grime-coated glass ceiling. A subtle impulse tugged him towards it, another prompting from Fi.
“Is that a levitrain?” Link murmured.
“Yes, Master,” she confirmed, still floating alongside him. “You will need to enter at the rightmost end. The doors no longer have power, but should still possess manual release levers. I have additionally updated my assessment of the probability that they are still functional or will be simple to restore to 90%. I detect that the dust on the far side of this levitrain has been significantly disturbed recently, implying that there was another levitrain present which has now departed.”
“Zelda,” Link breathed. “It has to be.”
“I cannot confirm this with certainty, Master, as any auras in this location have been concealed. However, I estimate the probability that you are correct at 95%.”
Link smiled, his steps a little lighter as he turned along the side of the levitrain. There was a small gap between it and the ground on which he stood, which if it moved he supposed there would have to be; presumably it was resting on another of the thick rails he had seen in the other trenches. Its side was dull, made of the same odd not-quite-metallic material so much in the desert seemed to be, and set with small windows at regular intervals. A pair of doors, between them as wide as they were high, passed him by, but he obeyed Fi’s silent instruction to continue, past a point where the first part of the levitrain abruptly ended and for less than half a pace Link could see through the gap to the shadowy half-light beyond. The levitrain as a whole continued, however, with some sort of huge clamp or lock at the bottom of the gap connecting it to the next part. Again, Link came to a door, and this time Fi halted to gesture to it.
“You should enter the levitrain here to inspect the control station and engine compartment. An emergency release lever is provided to the right of the door.”
Link studied the wall of the levitrain and nodded, seeing the time-dulled outline around what was probably a recess that held the lever. Made for hands bigger than his own, it came open stiffly and with a grating complaint when he hooked his fingers under it and pulled, revealing a long and simple lever in the cavity behind. Indecipherable squiggles in the back of the cavity doubtless said something, but he wasn’t sure what.
“What’s that say?”
“For emergency access, pull lever,” Fi recited calmly. “Replace lever to upright position to enable door locking before engaging locomotion.”
Locomotion? Even as he wondered at the last word, Link grasped the lever, pulling it towards himself. It resisted, and he threw his weight into it, until it abruptly jolted outwards with a heavy clunk. Beside it, in time with it, the door abruptly popped out of its frame and slid leftwards, a gap opening between it and the wall big enough to get his arm through. Pleased by the success, he gripped the edge of the door and pulled sideways, trying to slide it further. Whatever runners it slid on squealed in protest, but it grated slowly aside until the gap was wide enough for Link to step through and he stopped pulling on it with a breath of relief, shaking his hands out.
The floor of the levitrain was quite a big step down from the ground he’d been standing on. Taking his lantern from his belt and holding it up, Link stepped cautiously into the space inside: a short corridor that ran directly from his side of the levitrain to the other. In the exact middle were two doorways: one to the left and one to the right.
“The left-hand door will permit you to access the power core and associated mechanisms. The right-hand door leads to the manual controls,” Fi informed him, drifting silently down beside him.
“Left first, then?” Link ventured, and Fi inclined her head. Inside the narrow space of the levitrain, his voice echoed much less than it had outside.
Unlike the outside door, this one had a kind of handle set into it that Link was able to yank sideways, coughing a little at the dust. The door slid slowly and gratingly aside, opening into one of the most cramped spaces he’d ever seen. Much of it seemed coiled and twisted, or ribbed, or made of long narrow metal plates stacked side by side – it looked like nothing Link had ever seen, save…
He frowned. Beedle’s Airshop…?
“The power core here is non-functional, Master Link. I detect that it has deteriorated with time. From the degradation, I estimate that it has been inoperable for approximately two hundred years.”
Link glanced over his shoulder and found Fi so close he felt the tip of his nose would touch her if he so much as breathed. Surprised, he reflexively leant away slightly, Fi’s impassively calm expression unchanging.
“So we need to check another one? Or can we do something like what we did before, in the mines? If we can find another power core?”
Fi nodded. “It is unlikely that the levitrain that has departed was in a significantly better condition. It is therefore probable that there is a supply of functional power cores in this vicinity. You will need to locate one and replace the power core present here.”
Link, too, nodded. That made sense, inasmuch as he understood any of the machinery around him. As he turned and climbed the high step back out of the levitrain, he commented “You know, Beedle has some machinery that looks a bit like this in his Airshop. He tells anyone who listens how people said it wasn’t possible to augment a failing power core. Do you think he has something similar?”
Fi floated up beside him, her head tilted. Despite her blank expression, Link thought she seemed to want to know more.
“It is possible, Master. I would need to conduct a fully detailed analysis of the ‘Airshop’ to reach a definitive conclusion. It is certain that Skyloft and the other islands were once inhabited by many of the same robots who built these or similar machines, and it is probable that they created more machines while upon the islands.”
“You were there for that… weren’t you?”
“I entered a state of dormancy shortly after the raising of the islands, Master Link. I did not directly perceive the majority of the subsequent events, although I retained a basic awareness of the more significant auras present upon Skyloft.”
Her melodic voice was calm, but Link still decided to drop the subject. Fi always sounded calm, and he knew what had happened to her in the raising of the islands, that time out of legend.
“Where do you think we should look for power cores?”
Fi rotated as if spinning gently on her down-pointed toes, as though she were looking about the cavernous space. “Once you have replaced the emergency access lever, I recommend seeking out staff and maintenance areas. These are located…”
* * *
It had taken Link some time to find what he sought, and when he had, it had raised more questions. A large crate in an easily-accessed room had proven to contain some large, round objects that Fi confirmed were levitrain power cores, but not even she could tell him why they had been in what she told him was the stationmaster’s office, an empty bin lying on its side beside them. Other than that two had been removed within the past day, she had no more information than Link did, something that left him even more bemused. The crate, Fi confirmed, had been in its place for at least eight hundred years, and probably longer. She had speculated that it must have been left for easy access by the last robots to leave the station, but she had made it very clear that it was only speculation.
Link had carried the heavy power cores back to the levitrain one at a time, and was just straightening from having set the second one down when an inexplicable chill shot down his spine.
Master Link. Fi’s tone was flat and rapid. I detect the aura of the demon Ghirahim within the city. I calculate a 90% probability that he is tracking us in this direction. It is imperative that you complete the power core exchange rapidly.
Link took a sharp breath, tension settling into his bones. “Okay, Fi.” He looked at the two cores, both lying in the corridor outside the cramped space he would be working in. Following the instructions she’d already given him, he drew the Goddess Sword and knelt, striking one of them hard with its pommel. Once again, he heard the sharp ring of metal on metal underscored by a deeper, more resonant note, and the wave of light washed over him with that momentary sensation of strange backwards queasiness, erasing centuries of imperceptibly-settling dust and grime, both inside the levitrain and outside it. Link glanced back over his shoulder, out of the door: the effect seemed to extend at least to the next trench. More than enough to cover this front section of the levitrain.
The box of tools he’d found and carried carefully in seemed similarly restored to pristine condition. None of them were quite shaped correctly to a human grip, but they were close enough that he could hold them, and that was all that mattered. Leaving his sword sheathed despite how much the spectre of Ghirahim’s approach made him wish to draw it, Link stepped carefully into the small compartment and began to work, following Fi’s careful directions about what he should unscrew, unbolt, or remove.
Before long, almost to his own surprise, they had the old power core out. Fi had warned him that it would not regain its former power even within the timeshift. Apparently, one of the few things immune to the effects of Timeshift Stone was the stone itself. Link grappled with the old core, lifting it awkwardly in the confined space, and managed to carefully swap it with another, the one he hadn’t hit. Socketing it into the space he’d taken the other one from, careful to keep it at the same orientation, he followed the same instructions in reverse, connecting or closing one thing after another until, at last, a final cover screwed on over it.
Now press the red button immediately to your right, Master Link.
Link reached out and pressed it, and suddenly all sorts of little blank spaces lit up with different colours of light, another, brighter light blinking on above him and rendering the whole confined space as bright as day. After so long in the half-light, he blinked, shielding his eyes for a moment, and a strange hum filled the air, the floor almost seeming to sway under him as if it were rising briefly like a bird in flight.
“What’s happening, Fi?!”
The levitrain is now active, Master. Its levitation capacity has engaged: we are now hovering above the levirail.
If Link hadn’t been so tense, he would have let himself appreciate the wave of awe. He and Fi had done that.
Ghirahim continues to close on this location. I estimate that it will take him between ten and fifteen minutes to reach us at his current rate of travel.
“Then we’ve got to go.” Link stood and stepped out of the doorway, which closed automatically and almost silently behind him. The door to the outside was shut, and the door ahead opened for him equally silently, although he had a definite sense that Fi had done something to it. “This is where you control it?”
The front of the levitrain had a strip of window all the way across it, set notably below Link’s eye level. An angled surface below it held some buttons, and a lit screen displayed a digram and text he couldn’t read.
That is correct, Master. Fi paused for an instant. However, a problem has been detected. The rear carriages are not receiving power. This is likely due to the extension of the levitrain outside the temporal distortion. You will need to uncouple the rear carriages. Use the screen to control the carriage linkages by touching the one you wish to disengage.
Link cautiously touched the screen in the place he felt Fi was indicating, finding that it responded to his finger in a similar way to the Beetle, at least in that another unreadable message appeared on the screen.
Touch the leftmost box.
Link did so, and a dull clunk rolled through the floor beneath his feet, the vertical line of four rectangles on the left-hand side of the screen changing to just two.
“Was that it?”
It was, Fi confirmed. You must now select the correct destination. The levitrain is almost autonomous, and you do not need to remain at the controls once it is in motion.
“Okay. What do I touch to do that?”
Following Fi’s directions, Link pressed a bewildering array of unreadable statements, selecting whatever options she instructed. By the time he’d succeeded, he was pretty sure he’d learnt the words for ‘yes’ and ‘no’ just by seeing them so often.
I estimate that we are ahead of Ghirahim by eight minutes. The probability that he is aware of how to operate the levitrains is below 10%, but is not zero. You must now engage the propulsion mechanisms, Master. There is a manual safety lock which cannot be bypassed. Open the small, square hatch to the right of the screen, and turn the knob within 90 degrees clockwise. Another confirmation dialogue will appear on the screen.
“Got it.” Link did as he was told, feeling the constant prickling of tension between his shoulderblades. The knob turned easily, clicking firmly into place, and as Fi had predicted, another message appeared. Link pressed the ‘Yes’ option before she could prompt him, and a gentle hum filled the levitrain, followed closely by a jolt of motion, as if he were in a cart someone had just begun to push. Forgetting the screen for the moment, Link bent down, gripping the edge of the angled surface, to peer out of the low window as the levitrain accelerated out of the dimness of the building and into the light of the desert day.
Notes:
I am still alive, I promise! Things are just really busy right now. I make no current promises about regularity, but I have not given up on the story, nor am I going to!
Chapter 46: Monument
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link lifted his head as he felt his weight shift forwards slightly. The levitrain had quickly left Ghirahim far behind, out of range of Fi’s senses, and for the first hour or so he had stared out of the low, narrow window, watching the seemingly endless sands drift by ahead, turning to flower-speckled green briefly as they passed, the levitrain’s motion smoother than a loftwing’s glide in calm air. There had been breaks in the rail, and at first he’d worried that the levitrain would need him to do something, but Fi had informed him with her usual imperturbable calm that the Timeshift Stone would render the issue moot – as indeed it had, segments of rail seeming to appear from nowhere just ahead and, presumably, disappear behind.
Eventually, he’d sat down. The strip of window was narrow enough and low enough that he had to stoop to see anything through it, and Fi had informed him that at the speed she’d had him set the ancient levitrain to, the journey would take several hours. When he’d grown too stiff from bending to peer out of the window, he’d taken what he felt was her unspoken advice and sat against the wall, letting himself half-doze.
“Fi? Are we slowing down?”
Fi sprang from the sword on his back with a soft chime, her self-contained glow barely discernible in the levitrain’s bright light.
“Yes, Master Link,” she said, and he scrambled to his feet as she continued, turning as he moved so that they were both looking out of the low window. “I detect that we are nearing the Lanayru Mines station. The Temple of Time, and the Gate of Time it contains, were built in this location due to the high concentration of Timeshift Stone in the local rock: this was deduced to be the location in which the influence of the Goddess of Time was the greatest.”
“That makes sense,” Link said quietly. Ahead, he could see that their rail now ran alongside multiple others, all of them parallel and perhaps a wingspan or so apart. The levitrain slowed further still as they reached a series of raised platforms set between the rails, and finally stopped, soundless and swaying only slightly.
“I recommend deactivating the levitrain to avoid draining the power core unnecessarily, Master.”
Link nodded. “All right. What do I press?”
The instructions Fi gave were far simpler than those he’d followed to set the levitrain in motion, and it was less than a minute before it had settled down onto the rail with a muted clunk. Opening the door, Link stepped out onto the platform, shading his eyes against the sun only slightly veiled by thin cloud.
“Fi…!”
He pointed, speechless. The station stood atop a low bluff, and below it he could see out across a rocky vista that looked to have been hewn from the same stone, sand half-burying boulders, walls, and widely-spaced buildings alike – but to his left, half-concealed by the curve of the bluff, an incredible, almost impossible construction had captured his attention. Even with only the upper half visible, any sky-dweller would have recognised it in an instant: the radiant-bird symbol of the Goddess, implausibly huge, implausibly free-standing though any unsupported stone would have sheared off under its own weight at a fraction of the size. Balanced atop it, supported in just three places by wing-joints and beak, was the triple-triangle shape of the mythical Triforce.
Fi reappeared beside him almost without his noticing, unaffected by the light or heat and floating as she always did just above the ground. “The structure you have indicated does not appear in my database, Master Link, despite its significance. I conclude that it was built after the raising of the islands. Although I cannot analyse its composition at this range, I am able to deduce that it is created from complex advanced materials which combine extreme strength with low density. If this were not the case, it would have suffered catastrophic structural failure. The Temple of Time is located in approximately the same region as the base of the structure. I advise that you proceed towards it with caution.”
Link nodded, staring at the immense symbol for a few moments longer before tearing his gaze away, studying the ground below for a likely path. The buildings, or what remained of them, were far lower and more scattered than in the dead city of Cronellon, but the sand looked far higher, forming great windswept dunes and mounds in some places; almost perfectly flat in others. Oddly-placed walls which might have made sense if he had been able to see their full pattern emerged in the lower regions, vanishing into the sand where the wind had piled it high.
“The terrain in this area has changed dramatically since the construction of the buildings you are observing, which were created before the changing climate had turned this region into a desert. Although the buildings will have been designed to adapt to this scenario, I cannot determine at this range whether such adaptations will have been sufficient. Exercise care when entering any structure.”
Again, Link nodded. Guessing at a route he hoped would lead him along the foot of the bluff without too many detours, he turned and set off onto the steeply-sloping path down the rock face, wider once, but badly eroded and with chunks missing from its outer edge. Fi returned to the sword as he began to walk, picking his way across the tumbled remains of some kind of archway and keeping a circumspect distance from the edge.
* * *
It quickly proved to have been a lot easier to plot a course from above than it was to follow it on foot. The sand dune Link had planned to climb was a lot steeper than he’d realised, and as he’d attempted to scramble up it, enough sand had come loose around him that he’d given up, afraid he might bring the entire face of the dune down on himself. That had forced him out away from the bluff and into the maze of walls, and if it hadn’t been for the symbol of the goddess standing impossibly tall to the west, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep track of his orientation – not with the half-concealed sun almost directly overhead as it steadily approached noon.
Shading his eyes with one hand, Link backed away from the wall he’d been walking beside in an attempt to take advantage of its dubious shade. Based on what Fi had told him before, it would be safer if he found somewhere to rest soon, with the desert already punishingly hot and dry, leaving him thankful once again for the protective talisman around his right arm. He’d hoped he could reach the Temple of Time before then, but the monument barely seemed any closer.
A motion caught his eye, and Link frowned, squinting into the sky. “Fi, is that a bird?” Here? In this desert?
Fi’s voice sounded in his mind, musically calm. Yes, Master Link. Analysis of the flight pattern and conformation confirms that it is a hrok. These are the largest birds to dwell in the deep desert. They are primarily scavengers, but are also known for opportunistic predation. Hroks do not directly attack potential prey: rather, they wait for an animal to pass beneath a high perch, then attempt to drop one of the stones they collect on these perches onto the animal, killing it or rendering it unconscious so that they may consume it at their leisure. Hroks have been known to collect and drop rocks of sufficient mass to cause severe injury to an unprotected human. However, provided that you do not pass directly beneath a perch or become immobilised in the open, you are unlikely to face significant danger from them.
Link blew out a breath. “Thanks. I’ll be careful.”
You should consider seeking shelter, Master. The temperature continues to increase, and while it will not be sufficient to overcome your current protection, it will cause you to drain your water reserves more rapidly.
“Yeah… I know.” He hesitated, scanning his surroundings once again. “I just… We need to reach the Temple of Time as fast as we can. We have to catch up to Zelda this time. I can’t… I have to be fast enough.” ‘I fear the goddess may have been mistaken in her choice of agents.’ ‘I have to go. I’m sorry, Link.’ ‘She cannot wait.’ “I won’t be too late again.” Again, he found himself hesitating, the words he hadn’t said weighing on his heart like a stone. “Fi… Do you know why… why she couldn’t even speak to me?”
I do not, Master. As always, her melodic voice, even unheard, was calm, and yet he wondered if she wondered, too. My database provides no indication of the reason for her haste, beyond the destiny that lies before you both. If you wish to determine the motivations for her actions, I recommend reuniting with her quickly. I will continue to monitor your water consumption and provide warning should my predictions indicate you will experience a notable shortfall.
“Thanks, Fi,” Link said, the words heartfelt. Even though her tone hadn’t changed, he was sure that she’d understood.
Notes:
Wow, but that took a long time. I’m so sorry to have left you all hanging like that! Long story short, one of the various things I do requires a team, and one member of the team abruptly dropped out and vanished on us with no warning or explanation, so we were all running around like we were on fire for the next couple of months… But, things are now quieter, we have a new person on the team, and maybe-hopefully-perhaps I can get on with finishing this monumentally massive fic! I hope at least some of you are still with me after this huge hiatus…
Patch Notes
- Birds no longer form concrete in their digestive systems; boulder size reduced to carryable – but still eminently fatal – proportions.
- Characters now comment on gigantic implausible monument.
- Fi no longer detects quicksand over hundred-metre-plus distances.
Chapter 47: Sinking Feelings
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Master, stop.
Link froze automatically, hand snapping to the hilt of his sword as he scanned the area. Nothing immediately dangerous was visible: the only life he’d seen so far had been a few strange spiky plants and another hrok, which had watched him sullenly as he kept a circumspect distance from the high wall it perched atop. He’d seen a couple of dead robots half-buried in the shifting sands, and a few bones, some of small creatures and a handful that Fi had identified as bokoblins, but nothing else alive.
“What is it, Fi?”
I detect an area of sinksand directly ahead. This highly aerated small-particle sand presents a significant hazard. Although it appears solid, you will sink immediately if you step upon it, until you reach a depth at which you are neutrally buoyant. Attempts at rapid motion or struggle will cause you to sink significantly further. To escape sinksand, you must remain calm and move slowly. Attempt to lie on your back, similar to trying to slow your fall in air. It is imperative that you keep your face clear of the sinksand at all times.
Link’s chest tightened at the thought. He hadn’t even known that the ground could be treacherous – not if it wasn’t in the form of a rockfall or sandslide.
“How do I tell?” The sand ahead looked exactly the same as the sand beneath his feet, golden-bright in the slightly watery desert sun.
There is no easily-visible demarcation between regions of sinksand and regions of normal sand. I will continue to assess the surrounding environment, and will communicate a warning to you where I detect a hazardous region. I advise increased caution in this area. With the additional dangers of exposure and opportunistic predation by hroks and other desert-dwelling life forms able to traverse the sinksand safely, my assessment of bodily danger has increased by 30%.
“Right…” Link shuddered despite the desert heat. Much like the subtle sense of direction Fi had gifted him previously, a sense of discomfort about the sand ahead rose into his awareness from the sword on his back, merging uncomfortably with his own sudden fear of it. Ten more paces, or so, and he’d have walked right into it.
Backing further away, he looked around. The crumbling walls were still several times his own height, and it was getting harder and harder to remember the layout he’d seen from above. Turning his back on the sinksand, he crossed to the wall that was now on his left side. If he kept turning left whenever he could, he’d have to get around the dangerous region eventually… wouldn’t he?
* * *
The day wore on as Link made his cautious way around what seemed to be practically a ‘lake’ of sinksand, if something containing no water whatsoever could be called that. From the ground, the walls and buildings were a maze, one path or another ending at a dead end or yet more of the sinksand. In places, he’d been able to scramble up the walls where they’d crumbled, or where the sand was piled high against them, but while it had provided him with a shortcut, it had afforded him little more of a view. He had, at least, rounded the bluff – but the sinksand remained stubbornly between him and the great monument.
Standing atop one of the walls, Link shaded his eyes and gazed across the empty sand. He didn’t even know where it ended, how much further he had to travel. None of the walls protruded into the section he was looking across, all of them subtly arced, the sand between them perfectly flat, perfectly clear… and, Link suspected, perfectly deadly. Certainly the section at the foot of the wall he was standing on was.
He frowned, looking around the sandy expanse before him again.
“Fi…” he ventured. “Does this look like a circle to you?”
Springing from the sword, Fi ‘landed’ beside him, down-pointed toes barely an inch above the weathered material of the wall.
“Your observation is correct, Master.” She turned her head slowly, blank eyes surveying the area. “The formation is significant. All remaining wall fragments exhibit a constant curvature matching a single circle with diameter 64 metres.” Fi paused, only for a moment, but Link felt he could once again sense her sifting through her knowledge. “All buildings in the Lanayru region were constructed in the knowledge that they would ultimately be engulfed by the desert, and were designed with that fate in mind. I calculate a probability of 90% that the sinksand in this area was predicted. Please draw the sword and hold it forth.”
Link did as she asked, holding the perfectly-balanced sword out in front of himself at arm’s length. The blade shone faintly, and it almost seemed as though Fi were concentrating.
“Additional data acquired, Master Link. There are residual power flows deep beneath the sinksand, indicating one or more buried structures are present. Such a structure is unlikely to have been intended to be isolated. There is a 70% probability that the buried structure will offer a means of circumventing the extensive sinksand. In light of this new information, I recommend that you attempt to locate the remains of one of the robots local to this area, and a Timeshift Stone. Although their data banks are too degraded in their current state to permit analysis of the data formerly contained within, restoration to a former timestate will allow communication. We will then be able to request information concerning traversal of this area in the desert state.”
Link frowned briefly as he reviewed her words, lowering the sword to his side. Fi’s musically calm delivery of so many strange facts at once had left him feeling only just able to keep up.
“All right, I think I understand.” They knew this was going to happen, so they would have put some sort of tunnel or bridge or something here – and there isn’t a bridge. I still can’t get used to the idea that they just… knew this was going to happen. “So we find someone and revive them to ask.” It was a good idea – much better than just trekking slowly around the sinksand, hoping to find some path through it by sheer persistence. “That’s not… that’s not cruel, is it?”
Fi looked at him, and for a moment Link felt she was considering.
“The robots are inoperable in their present-day state, Master Link. From the responses of those we encountered previously, I have confirmed that the robots in this region were abruptly deactivated approximately 40 years into the temporal cycle that once governed the area, as my database predicted. The probability that they were aware of their imminent demise is negligible. In restoring their operational status, you will be extending the span of their experience, albeit for a brief time.”
“I guess so. But… They’ll wake up and see how their whole city has been destroyed, won’t they? That’s… I don’t know. I’d feel awful if I woke up and…” Link waved his right hand vaguely across the crumbling walls still jutting from the desert.
Again, Fi seemed to consider.
“I cannot evaluate the potential reactions of each individual, Master. Analysis of human customs suggests that it would be reassuring in this context to provide the information that some robots were recovered from this region prior to the raising of Skyloft, and a further subset of them accompanied the people protected by the Goddess into the sky. It is therefore true that their civilisation continued for a significant period of time following the deactivation event. I have no data concerning the fate of the fraction of their population that remained on the surface during the raising of the islands. It is possible that, similarly to the Sheikah, they continue to exist in an undiscovered location.” She paused for a moment, just long enough to mark the change of direction. “Given this information, are you willing to restore any robots that we discover in order to obtain the knowledge that you seek?”
Link thought about it for a long moment, Fi watching with her seemingly infinite patience.
“Yeah, I think so,” he said, finally. “Can you… find any of them, like you did the kikwis?”
“Negative, Master. Since inactive robots do not possess functional power cores and do not contain even residual spiritual auras, I can only detect them within short range, similarly to the sinksand. You will need to continue your search or retrace your steps.”
“Okay. Let’s look around here, then. I don’t want to go back if we don’t have to.” We’ve already come so far… “If you notice one under the sand, or a Timeshift Stone, let me know.”
Fi nodded, once, and returned to the sword without further words. Taking a deep breath of the dry, dusty air, Link sheathed the sword again and turned, looking around the somewhat safer area behind him.
I’ll try that building, he thought. At least it’ll be sheltered in there… and maybe there’ll be one of those power cores somewhere.
Notes:
So a few chapters ago I looked up dry quicksand to determine whether it was even a real thing, and I found that it was, but it’s rare and we seem to know very little about it. You can look up “dry quicksand” and “fech fech”/“fesh fesh” (spellings seem to vary). It seems to require very fine particles and(?) that said particles be well aerated. It behaves more or less like regular (wet) quicksand. And if this chapter is still around in ten years or however long when more is widely known about it, I’m sure those future readers can all laugh at how little I knew. Thanks, posterity!
I once fell in regular quicksand after taking a flying leap onto what looked like perfectly solid flat ground that turned out to simply not exist under me – between one heartbeat and the next, I was hip-deep in the floor, and might have gone further (I had felt no vertical resistance/slowdown whatsoever) if I hadn’t also slammed into a steep solid bank on the edge of it. It was a very unexpected and unwanted, if also very dramatic, surprise! Luckily, I knew what I’d landed in and how to deal with it, so I kept my head and worked on calmly extricating myself until my companion caught up from going around the long way and hauled me the rest of the way out. It does not work anything like the game. Do not believe the game, it will only make things worse!
(Also do not take a flying leap into quicksand if you can possibly avoid it! And definitely don’t run into it, either. If you fall over and go in face-down, that’s got to be less likely to end well…)Why 64 metres? Well, I held a ruler up to the in-game map on my cutscene compilation, and determined the diameter of the sand circle to be 16-17mm or so at that particular VLC window scale. Assuming the walls are 4m across, they’re about 1mm across on that same scale, and realising that I had the option to use a power of 2, which seemed appropriate in the circumstances, I did. 16mm x 4m/mm gives 64 metres across! ;-) (Zooming in would make the scale more accurate, but it would also lose the power of 2, so I – for once – didn’t!)
Patch Notes:
- Quicksand now real.
- Gorko no longer teleports.
- Link no longer reaches the front door before going five miles out of his way to bypass a rubble collapse that should either be climbable or eminently Timeshift-Stone reversible. Either way, the amount of time that detour takes should definitely be enough for Zelda to finish her job and leave or Ghirahim to catch up without us. So now it doesn’t happen.
Chapter 48: Ghost of the Machine
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link knelt in the shadow of the wall, carefully setting the power core down. The second building he’d ventured into had had a small number of them, neatly racked on shelves, in one of its more intact rooms – although he’d beaten a hasty retreat when some sort of gigantic crawling thing with a huge shell had started lumbering towards him. Fi had emotionlessly informed him that it was an ampilus, and that its main means of defending itself was to discharge electricity through its shell. While she’d advised Link on methods of rapidly defeating one if he needed to, there hadn’t been any reason to fight the creature, not with the power core he’d come for already safely tucked under his shield arm. Though it was much smaller than the ones he’d taken on the levitrain, Fi had said it would still be sufficient, and that was good enough.
The remains of a robot had been harder to find, but they had eventually discovered one in a hollow where the prevailing winds had scoured the sand away from the base of a wall. Eroded and weathered, the asymmetrical features of its head were still more or less recognisable, the larger of the mismatched eyes broken and spilling sand as Link attempted to excavate and move the pieces into something at least resembling the right order. Now, having retrieved the power core from the sheltered spot he’d left it in while digging, Link gazed at the battered remains and hesitated.
“Are you sure this is going to be okay, Fi?”
With a muted chime, Fi vaulted from the sword to ‘land’ beside him, lightly poised and perfect.
“My analyses have not been able to provide any alternate recommendations that will not require you to spend multiple days searching this region, Master Link.”
Link took a deep breath of the desert’s hot, dry air, holding it for a moment before exhaling. “All right. Here goes…”
Drawing the Goddess Sword smoothly, he held it above the core for a moment, then brought the pommel sharply down. Light shone from it, and just as before, a strange and instant wave of something not quite dizziness washed over him, as if for a split second even his own thoughts had started to run backwards – and then it was over. Instead of the thin layer of sand over rock, Link was suddenly kneeling on thin, moist soil, short grass rich with delicate flowers, the wall next to him vibrantly painted in geometric patterns, and the robot before him jolted into life, dismembered parts reconnecting to one another with bands of shimmering light, the broken lens of its larger eye intact and glossy as a beetle’s wingcases. It seemed to stare at Link even as he stared back, emitting a brief, warbling whistle.
“Vwoo-eeit?”
Another sound followed an instant later, this one from off to Link’s left: a snorting snuffle that sounded all too familiar. Link’s head snapped around and he shot to his feet in the same motion, snatching the shield from his back as his eyes confirmed what he had heard. Somehow, a lone bokoblin had got so close as to be actually inside the time bubble with him, one wearing a ‘helmet’ that appeared to be an upturned metal bowl tied on crudely with bright wire, holding a kind of club in its hand that crackled with electricity! Acting on instinct, Link put himself between the bokoblin and the robot, which emitted a piercingly loud series of beeps as it cowered away towards the wall. Squealing in a frenzied manner that could have been hatred or hunger or even vicious joy, the bokoblin lunged at him, swinging its sparking weapon wildly. Link jerked back as it neared him, trying to keep it from so much as touching his metal-plated shield. Though its blow had missed, the creature screeched triumphantly and swung again, pushing Link back another pace – but this time, as the weapon passed him, he sprang forwards again off his back foot, the tip of his shining blade sinking deep into rubbery flesh. The bokoblin shrieked, staggering back, dropping its weapon as it clutched its stubby hands to the wound… and, tripping over the mound of sand at the edge of the time bubble, fell into the desert and seemed to age centuries in an instant, abruptly no more than a scatter of dry bones on sand. Link stared in shock, the point of the Goddess Sword sinking towards the grass.
The brief battle over almost as soon as it had begun, Fi reappeared beside him, facing the tumbled bones.
“How…?” Link managed.
“The bokoblin which you have just slain was restored to life by the temporal distortion field, Master Link. My analysis indicates that its bones were buried in the sand here for multiple centuries. There is an 80% probability that it died in this location prior to the region’s transformation into a desert. In order to have been restored by the temporal distortion, the bokoblin must have previously existed in the corresponding era.” Fi paused for an instant, and once again Link felt the faint sense that she was rapidly sifting through her knowledge. “My database confirms that bokoblins were known to have infiltrated the temporal cycle that formerly governed this region shortly prior to its ending, at the beginning of the final iteration of the cycle. No conclusion had been reached about the means by which they did so before the raising of the islands. I will inform you if I become aware of any further information.”
Link nodded, slowly. It made sense, at least. “Okay…” I guess I’ll have to be careful every time I do this. The bones must have been buried in the sand… I didn’t even see them.
“Fweet?” The whistle-chirp from behind startled him enough to spin around, finding himself looking at the robot only a pace away, its back still almost against the wall. It looked back at him, mismatched eyes in a stylised face somehow still less inscrutable than Fi almost always seemed.
“I am transmitting my linguistic database now,” Fi informed him. Just as before, nothing seemed to happen, and yet the robot spoke moments later with Link’s own Knight Academy accent.
“What has happened here, <zwit>? Thank you for saving me from the bokoblin, but what has happened? You are a human, are you not? And you are a significantly more advanced model? Logic dictates this is the inside of a temporal distortion field? I do not remember a shutdown event! What is the cause of this damage? Was there some form of detonation?”
“Uh…” Link glanced to Fi, who remained unhelpfully silent. “I don’t really know what happened. Fi doesn’t, so I don’t think anyone does. I’m really sorry.” It felt horribly inadequate, but what else could he say?
The robot stared at him for several silent moments, then beeped. “How far does the damage extend? I do not detect even long-range transmissions.”
“Uh… You might want to sit down.” Link looked at the hovering robot. “Do you sit down?”
“I could disable my levitation unit. Why are you changing the subject, human? <vweet> It’s bad news, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, slinging his shield back onto his back. “It is. ...Fi told me a lot of robots got out of this area. Some of them went to Skyloft, where I’m from. And some of them went somewhere else on the surface – we don’t know where. But this desert… there’s nobody living here any more. At least not that we’ve seen.”
The robot emitted a long, melancholy warble, turning slowly in its hover to view the surroundings. Link looked with it, trying to picture the landscape as it must once have been, before the desert had taken hold and over a millennium of decay had sunk its gentle fangs into the ancient buildings. Had all the walls been so brightly and cheerfully painted as the one he stood beside? The ground level and soft, not hidden by the sand dunes? Had other robots like this one thronged whatever streets there had been?
“Then are you here to find out what happened?”
“Not really,” Link said, almost reluctantly. “At least, that’s not why I came here. I’m… following a friend. I’m supposed to go here, to the Gate of Time. If I don’t, something really bad is going to happen – something even worse than this.” He glanced to Fi, whose blank eyes seemed to be observing them both, and she nodded once, gracefully, corroborating his words. “If I find out what happened, if I can, I can come back here…”
Everything about the robot’s posture looked mournful as it replied. “You are kind, human, but I will have been deactivated long before you are able to return when the temporal distortion ends. Unless my chassis was not significantly damaged… but I expect the probability of that to be zero.”
“You are correct,” Fi stated calmly. “My assessments indicate that the cumulative environmental damage reached critical levels following less than a century of exposure.”
Canting forwards, the robot seemed to be staring at the short grass.
“I apologise for having imparted unwelcome information. It was, however, necessary.”
“Is there anything we can do…?” Link asked gently.
The robot spread broad hands in a gesture reminiscent of a shrug. “What could you do? Even you” and it turned slightly to look at Fi “clearly do not have the capacity to restore… this.” Falling silent again for several long moments, the robot abruptly turned back to Link, the motion seeming more purposeful. “But I do not want my final experiences to be without hope or purpose. The power core there will likely sustain my existence for a short while longer. Therefore, can I be of assistance to you, strangers?”
Link’s voice caught in his throat as sympathy and gratitude stabbed through him. “We- we’d be very grateful for your help.” He swallowed. “We need to get to the Gate of Time, but the ground is too dangerous. Fi says there’s some sort of underground building down there, and there might be a passage through it. Do you know if there is? And how we could get into it?”
“Where is this dangerous terrain, <bzzt>?”
“That way.” Link pointed through the wall, in the direction of the huge expanse, and somewhere beyond it the giant symbol of the goddess and the Triforce, though he was too close to the wall to see it. “There’s this huge open circle full of sinksand. I’ve been trying to find my way around it, but…”
The robot made a kind of brief whistle. “Correspondence determined. The open area you speak of is above the primary entrance to the Lanayru Mining Facility. The initial workings start as an open-cast mine… well, perhaps the details are not relevant to you. In any case, the depression is known to inevitably fill with fine, aerated sand, and the most efficient method of dealing with that problem has always been to design around it rather than prevent it. The building should rise automatically as the sand fills the basin, but it won’t happen unless it’s fully powered.” Once again, it paused to scan the dry desert horizon, cut off by walls, buildings, and the bluff. “Most power conduits are built underground and with sturdy cladding. If you can get a power node running within a distortion field, I expect the cables will still carry power, <fweep>. If the entrance to the facility is still underground, it will probably have been much better protected, so just powering it might be enough to bring it to the surface. The lifting mechanism is rated to work with a full weight of sand atop it, too, although that’s never been tested. It’s a combination mine and ore processing facility, though, so it extends a long way beneath the surface in all directions, and once you’re in you can go almost anywhere. I usually work in… used to work in… Processing. One of the other exits from Processing comes up near the Temple of Time, where the sacred Gate built in honour of the Goddess of Time stands. That should take you past the dangerous terrain.”
Find a power node, whatever that is – Fi will know – and use a Timeshift Stone, just like here and on the levitrain. Then get into the building that comes out of the sand and go through ‘Processing’. Got it. “Thanks,” Link said aloud, heartfelt. “That really helps us a lot.”
“I’m glad to be able to help somebody,” the robot said, a little mournfully. “I thought I would still have half a century to work on the gardens. They would have been a work of art… <szwit> But, now I have helped you. When you leave here and return to your Skyloft, will you share my identification and tell them I was of assistance? My designation is 56BEAD-798385-DE45FE-2E44F1.”
Link couldn’t refuse such a simple, poignant last request, but he doubted he could commit that strange string of numbers and letters to memory. He reached for his battered notebook, flipping to the first page he hadn’t already written on; shook his pen quickly before twisting the cap off and the ink reservoir open.
“Could you repeat that? I’ll write it down so I don’t get it wrong.”
The robot obliged, slowly, its posture canted slightly to one side as it watched him write.
“Do you not possess the capacity to store personal identifiers?”
If Link hadn’t spent the last week around Fi, he might not even have understood the question. Instead, he found himself smiling, if only briefly. “Not ones as long as that. Mine’s just Link, and my friend’s is Fi.”
“Link and Fi? The probability of identifier collision must be high.”
“What, having the same name as someone else? I guess so, but it isn’t really a problem. Anyway… thanks. Thanks for your help, and – I promise I’ll tell everyone about you. And if I find out what happened here, I’ll tell people that, too.”
“Thank you, Link.” The robot was silent for a few moments, and something in its – his? her? – posture made Link think of a sigh. “I would like to tell you something more. Once, all of this facility looked like the bubble you see here. I used to assist in the maintenance of these gardens when my ore processing duties were over. I find there is nothing so rewarding as working with plants – nor yet so forgiving. Even though this region will turn to de-”
The bubble of altered time around them abruptly and soundlessly collapsed back onto the small power core with a feeling unpleasantly like a mental hiccup, as if Link’s very thoughts had stuttered past themselves in some inexplicable way. Once more, the remains of the robot – Bead, the gardener – lay broken and dead on the sand, a few grains spilling from the shattered larger eye. Link stared, almost numbly.
“Fi…”
“Master Link.”
It was not unexpected that the abrupt cessation of functionality of the robot 56BEAD-798385-DE45FE-2E44F1 would affect her master. His concern for other beings was not predicated on the nature of their construction, but rather, Fi had previously extrapolated, on the nature of what he perceived of their self. His interactions with her had followed a similar pattern, both in this era and in the past.
Fi chose to cease analysis of the distant past, focusing her attention fully on her master as he was in the present. The danger of encountering a processing error, while not directly calculable, was estimated as high if she continued to assess the matter under the current circumstances. That that estimation was itself a flawed product was highly undesirable, but as of yet Fi had not managed to determine a reliable method of routing around the errors analytically that did not itself risk producing an error, and it would serve no purpose to expose herself to further risk when it was apparent that her master’s emotional state was currently negative. Considering her database of human customs, supplemented by her occasional partial observations of Skyloft, she selected words that could be expected to assist him.
“Although it is regrettable that the individual designated 56BEAD-798385-DE45FE-2E44F1 cannot be permanently restored, Master, consider that you have now gained information enabling this individual to be memorialised according to your custom, in addition to the information required to reach the Gate of Time. The probability that you could have obtained this personal information by another means is below 1%.”
Link scrubbed tears from his eyes with his off hand, still holding the Goddess Sword in his left and showing no inclination to release it. “I… I guess you’re right. At least… we can remember.”
Fi inclined her head gravely.
“I wish I could… wait!” Link looked at the sword in his hand for a long moment before sheathing it almost reluctantly. He’d wished he had a hammer and chisel to etch the robot’s name into the wall, even if it wasn’t possible to dig a grave, and realised belatedly that, after a fashion, he did. Drawing the digging claws that Nackle the mogma had given him from his pouch, he buckled one onto his left hand and activated its magic, notepad still open in his right hand with the long, strange name written clearly on it. Careful to use only one claw, as delicately as he could, Link carved a message into the wall above where the body lay.
56BEAD-798385-DE45FE-2E44F1
WHO LOVED TO GARDEN
AND HELPED A STRANGER
“It’s not enough,” he murmured, stepping back and looking at his handiwork, “but it’s the best I can do.”
Fi continued to watch him, her silent presence a comfort, and the inert remains of the robot he couldn’t help but think of as Bead the Gardener made no reply.
Notes:
Sorry for the delay! The length of this chapter sneaked up behind me and took me completely by surprise, so I overran my own predictions rather. Poor little Bead.
I’ve said it before, but I’ll still say it again: the desert hits me like a punch whenever I go there. Look at it. A whole civilisation was wandering around, going about their daily lives with minimal concerns (other than the odd bokoblin), and then suddenly, bam! The freaking apocalypse falls on them without warning or explanation in a moment, in a heartbeat, and we never find out how or why or even what happened, but they’re all still there, wherever they fell, doing whatever they were doing. It’s like I imagine walking through excavated Pompeii would be only even worse, even bigger and with even less warning: at least in Pompeii they saw or heard the volcano erupt, started to run, shelter, flee – here it doesn’t seem there was even that. Just all at once, bam. No more people, no more anything. Nobody even left long enough after to bury (/dismantle/recycle/anything) the bodies or leave a plaintive message scrawled somewhere. Just instant, total, utter death.
And the game never once even notices. It vaguely notices that it’s kind of sad the captain robot is dead, but it notices in the kind of way you might think that if you were in a graveyard looking at his gravestone, not that he just dropped dead in the middle of the street one day along with everybody else in his entire civilisation. It doesn’t notice; it doesn’t care; it’s that kind of lazy consequences-aren’t-real lack of care that makes so much of this poor game slightly insipid when it could be making you mourn, making you rejoice, making you care. It never managed to make me care. I nearly quit altogether when Impa decided to be a shit for no reason. I didn’t cry when we said goodbye to Fi, and I’m a soft-hearted sucker. If the Floor Owl hadn’t cried at her goodbye, if someone hadn’t cared in front of me even though we were given so little reason to, I would never have had the impetus to embark on this project at all. And looking at all I’ve done, all that could have been, that’s really sad!
Patch Notes
- Self-aware robots now also aware of their surroundings.
- Characters remain aware of obvious past apocalyptic cataclysm.
- Death actually tragic.
Chapter 49: Beneath the Sand
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After several false starts, Link and Fi had traced a subterranean conduit that led from the sinksand to a building on the outer edge of the sandswept city. With a strange skeletal structure atop it that Fi suggested might once have been a kind of vertical windmill, it was narrow, windowless, and sealed shut. At Fi’s prompting, Link had brought the power core that he’d used to temporarily revive Bead, and managed to use it to reverse the damage of ages for long enough for him to – slowly, manually – force the door open. When the timewarp had ended again, the door had returned to its original corroded, warped state, leaving it stuck permanently open rather than closed. Thankfully, the sealed door had largely preserved the structure inside. The machines had been brittle, but not destroyed, and while Link understood almost none of what he was seeing, Fi’s explanations gave him at least a basic idea of roughly what it did. Sword drawn and held out to the machines to give her the best view possible, he’d followed her directions, walking around, now raising the blade high towards one piece of machinery; now lowering it to another.
Eventually, the sword spirit had pronounced herself satisfied. The generator would work – not for long, perhaps, but for long enough. Hermetically sealed, it had endured for over a thousand years, and when Link started it up again, it would endure for at least a week longer before, Fi predicted, breaking itself apart. If it hadn’t been for the urgency of his quest, if he hadn’t been trying to catch up to Zelda with Ghirahim chasing them some unknown distance behind, he might have asked if there were some way to preserve it longer still rather than destroy something that had lasted for so long – but as it was, he had only thought for a moment before nodding soberly.
Now, switches flipped and wires removed to prevent the generator looking for instructions from parts of the city that no longer existed and shutting itself down, Link stood before the final controls. They were remarkably unprepossessing, all told: a panel of buttons with labels he couldn’t read, a slot in the centre containing what appeared to be the handle – and presumably the rest – of a large, flattened key.
“Master,” Fi instructed quietly from beside him, “turn the key ninety degrees clockwise.”
Link gripped it with his right hand, the sword still exposed in his left, and twisted. It resisted him at first, ancient mechanisms sticking, then turned slowly with a grating click. Something in the machinery hummed; something else hissed; Link reflexively rocked his weight back, poised to move, as strange sounds began to echo around him like some sort of metal giant waking up from a long nap and muttering to itself as it did, a dimmed light flickering into being from the ceiling above.
“Master, press the button in the upper left corner of the panel. Once the button you pressed turns blue, press the rightmost button of the second row from the bottom.”
Upper left. Link pressed it, and a new hum joined the chorus of sounds, low and deep and very slowly rising in pitch. It settled into a sonorous bass, and, somewhat to Link’s surprise, the upper left button turned blue, along with several others. Right, second from the bottom. He couldn’t let himself think too hard about what he was doing, waking this great and strange machine from its thousand-year slumber. Focusing on Fi’s words, he pressed the second button.
A new range of sounds started; others stopped. A grating, rattling shifting, then a clang as if something had either fallen off or locked into place. A slow whum… whum… as of something heavy spinning, speeding up faster and faster until it became a single note. A whistle uncannily like one of the robots, though when Link looked around he saw nothing.
“Is it done?” he asked. The sounds from all around them had settled into a set of overlapping hums, and nothing new seemed to be happening, at least as far as he could tell.
“I can confirm that you have successfully reactivated the generator, Master.” But Fi turned towards the open door, and though her face still seemed expressionless, Link almost thought he felt her frown. “Power production is at acceptable levels. The current drain on the system is zero. These data combined indicate that power is not reaching any facility capable of using it.”
All that – all that for nothing? Link’s mouth opened slightly, instincts caught somewhere between a denial and a plea for Fi to find a solution, but she spoke again before he could.
“I recommend retracing your steps along the power conduit that we traced here. I will be able to detect the end of the live cabling accurately. I calculate a 40% probability that you will be able to conduct a temporary repair if necessary.”
40%… Link’s heart sank. Fi hadn’t given him so low a probability of success in something he needed to do before.
“Okay, Fi,” he made himself say, turning to the door and holding the sword at his side, its tip a few inches from the ground below which, somewhere, the conduit ran. “Lead the way.”
Fi inclined her head to him, and sprang back into light, into the blade. The sense of direction she imparted strengthened instantly, and Link stepped out into the late desert afternoon at a brisk walk, despite how far he had already come, how far he had still to go. Even through his heat protection, the desert heat felt like a heavy weight after a short while spent in the inside cool, but he ignored it, resolving to take a sip of water once Fi had found the problem… and found out if they could fix it.
* * *
Master, halt.
Sensing that they had found something even as Fi spoke, Link was already stopping, instinctively aiming the tip of the shining blade to where he felt something was: below him, within the wall he was walking atop. It didn’t feel too far down – less than his own height below his feet, and his hopes lifted a fraction.
I have detected the interruption to the power flow. There is a 95% probability that it was not caused by direct damage: I detect a power regulation system built into this wall. I extrapolate from our observations within the power generator that this regulator would have automatically shut off power when the city’s primary power grid failed or shut down. While I cannot communicate with the regulator remotely, there will be a nearby access panel to permit maintenance.
Link sheathed his sword at last and knelt, brushing gritty specks sand from the timeworn, gently pitted top of the wall. Nothing stood out to him, the material eroded into featurelessness, but it was closer to one side of the wall than the other, and he crawled that way, sweeping his hands back and forth, alert for any kind of join or seam. A hrok, eyeing him grumpily from atop the crumbled corner of a broken building, flared its wings briefly only to change its mind and resettle them again.
He came to the edge without a change in the construction of the wall, and, frowning, peered over. Looking down along its side, at first glance sheer save for a badly worn, basket-like protrusion, he thought he saw an edge: just the slightest of outlines, but there. Hope rising further, Link ran his left hand down the wall, fingernails skipping lightly along the surface to mark every crack or join – and catching just where he’d thought they would, slightly less than half the length of his forearm below.
“Is this it, Fi?”
The probability is almost 100%.
Experimentally, Link tried to wedge his fingernails into the join. It was too tightly sealed even for that, and he withdrew his hand, lying down to squirm forwards just far enough to lower his head over the edge. Once he knew where to look, seeing the edges of the flat panel that was probably the one Fi had spoken of was easy enough, but faint bumps at its edges where there had perhaps once been screws or catches or something had eroded into mere suggestions, useless. Could he pry one out, or across, or whatever it was supposed to do? He shifted again, edging his left shoulder forwards, just as Fi spoke.
I have completed a full structural analysis of this wall. Although the exterior was designed to be highly resistant to erosion, the internal structure is significantly weakened. I calculate that a shock of sufficient magnitude would detach the entire outer wall section, enabling you to access the internal components, including the power regulator.
“I don’t think I can hit it that hard from up here.” Even as he spoke, he felt that Fi was thinking of something a lot harder than just hitting it.
I concur with your analysis, Master Link. I recommend that you deposit a bomb flower into the receptacle below, which my analysis suggests was originally designed as a hanging basket for trailing plants to grow from, and retreat to a safe distance.
Link’s eyes widened. “Are you sure it will be all right? It won’t just break everything?”
The majority of the explosive force will be directed upwards by the shape of the hanging basket. The detonation will send a shockwave through the reinforced outer section that will be sufficient to break the anchoring struts within the wall. However, the blast itself will not breach the outer layer and so will not deal direct damage to the interior.
“If you’re sure…” Link pushed himself back up to his knees, reaching for Ledd’s bomb bag, still securely fastened to his belt. He’d found a couple of extra bomb flowers growing near the place his sailcloth had deposited him on the edge of Eldin Volcano after the eruption, three days and half a lifetime ago. Had it really been that long?
Had it really taken him that long to get here?
The bomb bag clung to his hand as always, airless and soft. Link closed his fingers around the first deceptively small flower he felt, round and hard and potentially deadly. He’d been in two minds about picking more, about taking the strange and dangerous flowers back to Skyloft, but without knowing what dangers lay ahead, he’d decided that he might well need them – and he’d been right.
Moving slowly, he drew the blue flower out, leaning over the edge to line it up with the hanging basket below. A deep breath, and he let go, already scrambling to his feet as it landed; as the warning hissing sound began again, bolting back along the wall as fast as he could run.
Behind him came the crash of an explosion, a moment’s silence, and then a sound like tearing metal, followed by a solid and final thud. Still tense, Link turned around. Sand and smoke hung about the area in a haze, but the top of the wall still looked more or less solid, at least from his distance. Cautiously, he advanced towards the damage, looking first for cracks – of which there were three hairline ones radiating out from some chipping at the edge – and then, as the wall proved to take his weight, over the edge.
The most obvious difference was the huge slab of wall lying in a small crater in the sand. The upward-facing side looked incongruously bright and unmarred, other than a series of broken metal struts protruding from it, most of them sheared off close to the base. Link coughed, waved smoke away from his face, and knelt to look into whatever space had been revealed below.
To his surprise, as Fi had said, it seemed – as far as he could tell – relatively undamaged. Struts and supports gave the wall an internal framework, and Link could see through some of them to what appeared to be a corridor within at ground level. Nearer the top of the wall where he knelt ran huge metallic ducts – and one of them branched into a dead-end that ended just below him. Link glanced around, then took a risk, lying flat on the top of the wall so he could lower his upper body over the edge, gripping a convenient stanchion for support.
The controls he saw at the end of the duct would have been incomprehensible even if they had been the right way up, but Fi’s unheard chime sounded in his mind moments before he heard her silently musical voice.
To manually set the regulator, first press the button that, from your perspective, is the second from the right in the bottom row.
Link did as he was told, reaching in awkwardly while still clinging to the stanchion with his right hand. His finger smudged the button at once cleaner and dirtier, removing a layer of dust and adding a thinner one of sooty grime.
Now grip the lever on the left-hand side of the control panel from your perspective, and move it towards the ground.
This lever was more of a handle supported on twin bars, its base noticeably curved. It was more than large enough for Link’s hand – like the buttons and everything else, he assumed it had been built by and for robots like Bead – and he forced it down, putting his weight into it when it proved stiffer than he’d expected, until it suddenly clunked into place, jolting him forwards and making him very, very glad of his grip on the stanchion.
“Did we…”
Link trailed off as a sound began to build behind him, not on or even in the wall itself, but out in the vast ring of sinksand, a rumble that vibrated through his whole body and the shussshushsshshsushh of moving sand. Scrambling back up to safety, he turned to look and froze, staring. The entire centre of the sinksand was rising, sand streaming down its sides like a waterfall, an incredibly deep, slow grinding more felt than heard as the soft, soft sound of the sand became a rushing, hissing roar. Link pressed his hands to his ears, but it did little to stop the roar and seemingly nothing at all to stop the deep, deep rumble rising through the ground, through the wall, through his boots and into his bones. Slowly, the sand began to part over a domed structure, and still it kept rising: there was another level formed into an outer ring, slanted slightly to shed the sand, and impossibly another beneath it – and as that one emerged, so too did a long slope leading down from it, until at last, incredibly, impossibly, more than half of the sandy basin was filled with an unbelievable building, the sand streaming from its sides, piling up against walls, spilling in torrents through the breaks in them until finally, at last, the deep, slow grinding ceased, and the howling rush of the sand died to a susurration and finally to nothing. Clouds of fine sand hung in the air, and Link coughed several times, realising belatedly how gritty his mouth felt.
“Wow,” he managed, inadequately.
Fi leapt from the sword to float beside him with her half-heard chime.
“That the structure has remained functional to such a degree under the pressure of the sinksand and the passage of time is evidence of the exceptionally high quality of its engineering and of the forethought of its creators.”
Taking his water bottle from his belt to finally take a long-awaited drink, Link smiled.
“Even you think that was incredible, huh?”
Fi regarded him in her usual opaque manner, but she didn’t seem cold or remote. “To the degree in which your statement is reflective of an emotional judgement, you are incorrect, Master. However, I agree that constructing such a mechanism, of such quality that it remains functional over one thousand years after its creation without maintenance and when buried beneath a greater cumulative load than it need have been designed to bear according to its usage parameters, was an achievement of extreme significance and difficulty. The builders and designers are to be highly respected.”
“Isn’t that the same thing, but in more words?” Her master was still smiling, and Fi understood that he was engaging in ‘banter’ with her. Unexpectedly, however, his words had raised a serious question, which she resolved to consider in depth as they continued their journey.
“I am aware of your emotional experience, Master, and I can confirm that it differs from my analyses in notable respects. However, your question raises a worthwhile point.”
Link blinked. “It does?”
“I had not previously considered whether your emotional states might in some cases map directly to evaluated judgements in this specific fashion. Your feeling of awe and my evaluation of the skill required to create all that we have just observed lead you and I directly to the same conclusion of respect for the creators of this building, for the same or extremely similar reasons.”
“Huh…”
Link thought about that for a short while, walking along the wall towards the place where the slope joined its base with the sword spirit floating ineffably alongside.
“Isn’t respect an emotion too?”
Fi turned to regard him again, analysis routines racing. Multiple axes of respect were among the many factors she was programmed to take into account when judging the recommendations of any individual when she herself lacked data, but she had never had reason to compare such evaluations to the imprecise modes of respect that Link felt.
“The structure of your language necessitates imprecision, Master Link. Imprecisely summarised, my determination of respect is a measure of how highly I would weight the advice of the building’s creators upon architecture, if I did not possess sufficient information to make a judgement myself, and of how high the probability would be that I would consider it advisable to repeat my own calculations if my analysis differed from theirs, if I did consider myself to possess sufficient information. It also weights the probability of my advising you to seek the aid such individuals if you expressed a need for architectural design, and the strength with which I impart that advice.”
Link listened, focusing on Fi’s words notably more than on the path ahead atop the dusty wall.
“Then… maybe it doesn’t feel the same, but I think that sounds like we do have something in common after all.” The wall ended before him in a sheer drop down onto a heap of fine sand at the end of the newly risen slope, and yet he smiled. “I don’t suppose I can ever really know what it feels like to be you, Fi, but I think… I think I can understand that.” Sitting down on the edge of the wall, ready to jump from it, he added “The sand down there isn’t too deep, is it?”
Fi shook her head once, briefly. “No, Master. Your projected landing site is safe.”
She swooped down beside him as he jumped, fine powdery sand thrown up by his landing drifting untouched through her ethereal form so that she almost seemed to sparkle with it.
“It is possible, though with as yet undetermined probability, that following this logic will also enable me to understand you more fluently. This would be conducive to your success.”
Link stood, dusting off his hands and knees, cautiously stepping out of the ankle-deep sand and onto the slightly raised stone causeway that had seemed to simply end and now instead met the base of the slope.
“Which is a good thing. For me, I mean – I mean from my point of view, I’d call that good.”
“Yes, Master Link,” Fi said, and Link was almost certain that her musical voice seemed thoughtful. “I agree that you would.”
She said nothing more as they walked up the slope, and vaulted back into the sword as he reached the wide, ancient door at the top, but as – without prompting – he found the manual handle set into the wall beside it and forcefully cranked the ancient doors far enough open that he could slip inside, Link felt his confidence increasingly buoyed by the simple sense of her presence in the sword across his back. All he had to do was make his way through this strange buried building, and with Fi at his side, he felt far more confident that he could.
Notes:
It's taken a while, but here I am again - and with a bonus, too, I also have a new chapter for the dubious bird in To Drift from Grace!
Patch Notes
- Pointless wall platforms with pointless bomb baskets given reason to exist – and their bomb baskets too.
- Link and Fi continue to hold actual conversations.
- Mechanisms exposed to erosion for 1,000+ years given shelter.
- Machinery no longer inexplicably operated by sticking swords in it.
Chapter 50: Moldarach
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The spiral ramp Link had descended ended in a blank wall at the bottom, the only door he had seen a huge one set into the outer wall a short distance before it. Puzzled, if relieved that he didn’t yet have to choose a path, he turned and walked back to it, already beginning to look for a lever at its side that might allow him to open it.
Master, Fi said silently, visual observation of the lighting in this descent indicates that power continues to flow to the interior of the facility. Additionally, I detect the flow of current in multiple locations, confirming this observation. There is a 65% chance that the remote operation mechanism of this door remains operational.
“So you might be able to open it?” Link’s voice echoed mutedly around the hollow spiral. He stepped back from the door, taking Fi at her word. “Do you sense anything on the other side?”
I do not detect any significant immediate threats, Master, although there are a small number of lifesigns. Your caution is commendable.
Link smiled, and the door in front of him opened, grating and stiff with a squeal of protesting metal. For an instant, the space beyond seemed dark – then light flickered into being from somewhere above, and he stared, taking only a few slow paces inside. The hall before him was so huge that he could scarcely believe it was underground, strange and heavy noises of machinery somehow muffled in the vast space. Great strips of machinery rolled belts wide enough to stand on along past various other mechanisms, beneath chutes, into hoppers, in and out of walls… None of it served any purpose Link could immediately understand, but it was clearly meant for transporting something around so that various other things could be done to it. Rocks, presumably, and Timeshift Stone.
Wide enough or not, the belts did not seem like an appealing place to stand.
“Any idea which way we should go, Fi?” He was murmuring only softly, expecting echoes in the immense hall, but his voice fell away into nothingness.
I detect a form of signage on the wall immediately behind us, Master.
Surprised, Link turned to look, seeing – of all things! – what looked for all the sky like a noticeboard, rectangular outlines coated in soft dust. Beside it, there was a diagram of some kind, perhaps once brightly coloured; beside that, there was what looked like a list of some sort, three separate columns of text beside one another. Fi sprang from the sword with a faint chime, floating beside him.
“Close visual analysis suggests that the central and rightmost items are a map and its key. The material from which they are made is essentially imperishable under these conditions. I recommend cleaning them to obtain further information about the optimal route. The items on the noticeboard on the left, however, are likely to be in a state of advanced disintegration. Sophisticated methods would need to be employed to render them fully readable without causing irreparable damage to the text.”
“So I shouldn’t touch them, huh. Can you read any of it?” As he spoke, Link swept his left hand over the surface of the central one, the map. Dust billowed off in a cloud, and he struggled not to sneeze.
“With continued analysis, I predict a 90% probability that I will be able to decipher a sufficient fraction of the text to infer meaning. Based on the position of the noticeboard, I extrapolate that it was intended for the workers here to leave important information and other notices in a format not dependent on the supply of electrical power.”
Link nodded, scrubbing the surface of the map cleaner with the side of his fist. Bright colours revealed from beneath the dust, it was very different from the maps he was used to. Despite himself, he sneezed, once, twice, three times in the dusty air, but the sneezes, too, were lost into silence rather than echoing back. Stepping back, he looked at his handiwork, Fi floating next to him and staring at the noticeboard. Bright and incomprehensible, single symbols were marked on it at various points, surrounded by yellow rings. Link focused on one of them, trying to commit it to memory. If the list beside the map was a key, as Fi had said, then maybe the circled symbols that looked sort of like labels would appear on it somewhere.
He stepped sideways, taking a deep breath and holding it, this time, before swiping the worst of the dust from the list: it was every bit as bad as the map had been, a cloud rising from it and settling across him, across everything. Breathing out hard, he scrubbed his face off with his right hand, rewarded when he took his next cautious breath by not instantly sneezing again. Like the map, the text of the list was in multiple colours, seemingly section by section. If the blue sections of the list corresponded to the blue sections of the map… well, Link still couldn’t read any of it, but it felt like a reasonable supposition. Perhaps he could match some of the single symbols to the ones on the map?
He’d found two and was feeling quietly pleased with himself when Fi drifted back from the noticeboard and turned to face him.
“I have completed a comprehensive analysis of the surviving text on the noticeboard, Master. The most significant notice warns of a structural instability requiring remedial work in what is referred to as the ‘Temple branch’. The date on the notice is within the same timeframe as the catastrophic shutdown event. I calculate a 94% probability that the remedial work was not fully completed.”
Once again, Link felt his heart sink. “That’s going to be between us and the Temple of Time, isn’t it?”
He felt a momentary shift in Fi’s attention before she nodded. “The map confirms that your supposition is correct.” She drifted closer, gesturing elegantly with the flowing draperies of her arm. “Each colour indicates a separate vertical level of this region of the facility. This level, coloured in blue, is the one most relevant to you. In particular, this passage is marked as leading to the Temple of Time.”
Link’s eyes were drawn to one of the passages, but Fi’s accompanying gesture, subtle as it was and made with as broad a sleeve as it was, could have meant anything.
“This one?” he asked, stepping closer to point, careful not to hit her – or pass through her, really, he supposed.
“That is correct, Master Link.”
“Could you… point a little more clearly?”
Fi seemed to consider this question as if the idea had never occurred to her before.
“No, Master,” she said, after a brief pause. “Although this shape is similar to yours, it does not possess hands. I do not have the capacity to affect the outer world directly save through communication. In order to indicate to you, I drew your attention to the correct element of the map through our connection. Was this indication insufficient?”
“No, it was fine.” Link stumbled over his words slightly. He couldn’t say how, but something about Fi’s explanation struck him as inexpressibly sad. “I just… you know. I felt like you were pointing it out to me, but I couldn’t see that you were. So I guess I was worried I’d be wrong. And I…” He hesitated, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say. “If you ever want me to do something…”
Fi turned, descending, and all at once her face was directly before his, young and ancient, forever calm, almost human and yet so very, very strange. Link blinked, but didn’t pull back, holding her blank blue gaze.
“Your concern is a consequence of your character, and thus to be commended. However, I was created in this fashion for a specific purpose. To provide me with unnecessary functionality would increase the risk of deviation from that purpose. This would reduce your probability of success drastically.”
“Fi…” Link wasn’t sure what to say, let alone how to say it. It seemed important that he say something: whatever it was that gave Fi’s ever-calm expression the faint hint of warmth he sometimes thought he felt seemed to be fading into something distant and cold, not quite that crushing stillness he had felt a few rare times before, but not far from it, as if some sort of precipice had been approached but not yet crossed.
Fi’s thoughts skated around the danger of increased processing errors in a rapid, almost jolting fashion. One of the many items of knowledge in her vast database was the presumption, not fully supported to the degree that she would assess it as definitely factual, but of high probability, that the extra functionality Ghirahim possessed had been an integral factor in his fall. Her opposite number was able to take solid form, blade wielded in his own hand: the ability to do so would doubtless provide a being capable of experiencing temptation with one extremely powerful. By contrast, and almost certainly as a consequence, she had been designed deliberately to be incomplete without a wielder. Not only was she designed to be incapable of experiencing temptation, she was also designed to be incapable of acting on it even if she did, an extension of her wielder’s will.
Analyses containing significant reference to Ghirahim, simultaneously with the concept of making a request of her wielder, most likely carried a high probability of processing failure.
“Fi?”
Less than 1.5 seconds had passed since he had last spoken, and that in the drawn-out fashion called ‘trailing off’. Such a delay was not typically considered a significant pause under the circumstances, according to her cultural database. Moreover, her master was exhibiting increased concern. Had he in some way detected the increased danger of processing errors? Fi had no way of estimating the degree to which she was damaged; however, she assigned increased weight to the concept of it being greater than minor.
“Yes, Master Link?”
“Is something wrong?”
“No new errors have been detected in my programming, Master. However, I did infer an increased risk of encountering a processing error as a consequence of the conversation to this point.”
“What? Why? I mean, you don’t have to talk about it…” He’d only offered to do something for her if she ever wanted, no different to his mind to fetching something from a high shelf or ringing the Airshop bell for the smaller students and the local children. But then he remembered again the burning mountain heat, a river of lava flowing before him, everything shimmering in the heat haze, and Fi emotionlessly assessing his chances.
I calculate that there is a 70% probability of you successfully reaching the other side. However, I cannot assist you if you are critically injured in the attempt.
She couldn’t assist him, because she couldn’t touch him, incapable of affecting the physical world save as the blade of a sword. If he’d fallen out on the molten rock, she would have been powerless to help him. A shiver ran down his spine, and a feeling almost like guilt: she couldn’t have done anything to save her previous wielder, either. And if what she said was true – and it had to be; she wouldn’t lie – it was somehow important that she had been created that way.
“You really don’t have to talk about it.” Link sighed. “I’m sorry, Fi.”
Fi cocked her head. This was the second time in quick succession that her master had demonstrated some facility for inferring or paralleling her thought processes. Her estimate of the depth of the connection between them rose by a small percentage, correspondingly improving his estimated chances of success.
“I accept your apology, Master, although I do not consider it necessary.” She turned, floating upright with one leg slightly bent, facing into the vast hall with all its machinery. “The probability that your assistance will aid in analysing and correcting the error remains incalculable. However, it is imperative that I am restored to full functionality.” A moment’s pause. “It is also, however, more immediately imperative that we reach the Temple of Time and reunite with the spirit maiden.”
Zelda… The need to find her had pushed him on this far, through all the strangeness and the danger, through the burning heat of the desert day. Fi was right: now was not the time, whether or not either of them wanted to talk.
“Okay,” Link said aloud. “Lead the way.”
As Fi leapt lightly back into the sword with that faint, melodic, almost whistling chime, Link felt the sense of direction she gave him reappear, pointing unerringly along the great hall. Looking from side to side, machine to machine, he started forwards, following her lead.
* * *
Despite the strange lack of echo, close up the machinery still drowned out most other sounds, grating, grinding, and in at least one place rattling and clanging to a stop with a final piteous beep as parts long perished over a millennium snapped or shattered, plunging the intricate mechanisms into chaos. Link ducked reflexively at the sound of screeching metal, straightening only slowly and eyeing the wreckage dubiously, wanting to make quite sure it had stopped moving – and potentially violently ejecting more broken parts – before he got any closer.
Perhaps that was why he didn’t notice the motion behind him. Woken by the light and sound and motion, the creatures that had long ago entered the complex through vents and open doors now huddled poised in their burrows and nests, ready to fight or flee or feed. One particularly large chuchu had detected Link, oozing itself near-silently up through the floor panels it had made its home beneath, stretching out a yellowish pseudopod towards him. The first he knew of it was an abrupt prickle of dread down his spine – then, before he could even begin to turn, it had made contact.
Something shot through him, an agonising shock like nothing he had ever experienced, every muscle snapping into tension, the world spinning away as he was flung into blackness.
* * *
...ster Link.
Everything hurt. There was a strange, single-note humming beside his left ear, like someone had flicked a particularly large tuning fork. Link groaned, cracking open his eyes, finding himself looking up dazedly at the girder-vaulted roof high above.
Master Link, it is vital that you move immediately. Fi’s mental voice was as urgent as he had ever heard it, far faster than speaking though its music remained. As if to underscore her words, he abruptly felt a new sharp, stabbing pain in his right arm, above the elbow, and moments later another in that leg. With a yelp, he sat bolt upright, eyes widening in sudden horror despite the way the room span around him: he was surrounded by aracha, some barely bigger than his hand, a few as long as his entire leg, and some of the bolder ones were already biting him, clinging to him to maintain their grip as he moved-
Shouting in wordless panic, Link pushed himself to his feet, staggering sideways as he snatched at his sword, the odd tuning-fork hum falling silent as he did. His first swing was as wild as a first-year student’s, but it was enough resistance to make the smaller aracha turn tail and flee back into the crevices they had come from, and from somewhere Link summoned the determination to master revulsion and pain and get himself under control. Panicking would not save him. He saw one of the larger aracha preparing to leap just in time, turned towards it in the same moment so that it threw itself directly onto the needle-sharp point of his sword, splitting chitin and piercing through and out of the creature’s back with its own momentum. A downward tilt and flick of the blade flung the corpse off, towards another of its fellows which skittered back, pincers and jabbing tail raised in threat. Behind it Link could see a yellowish chuchu, easily big enough to engulf him, but the blobby creatures moved only slowly and it seemed to be in some sort of standoff with several more aracha – he had time. Moving swiftly, he slipped the sword down and around, slicing directly past his own leg and cutting the aracha there neatly in two, a last jolt of pain as its mouthparts and claws spasmed and went slack. He didn’t pause to watch it drop, twisting his right arm around despite the increased pain as that aracha clung on still more tightly, again bisecting it in a spray of ichor. Glancing behind himself, away from the chuchu, he saw another that seemed to be preparing itself to leap; spun and leapt himself before it could despite stiffness and pain, striking down through the creature to the floor and regretting it, instantly regretting it, as more pain shot up his leading leg from whatever had happened to his feet. Surely they couldn’t have chewed through his boots?
Staying on one knee, Link spun again to face the rest of his foes, the smaller aracha now vanished, the remainder mostly intermediate in size, between the length of his forearm and the length of his arm. They seemed to eye him, pincers and tails raised in threat.
“Shoo!” Link shouted, his voice strained and rough, in the vague hope that at least one more of the creatures might take fright.
Master, Fi suggested silently in the back of his mind, I recommend attempting a ‘Skyward Strike’.
Good idea, Fi, Link thought, raising the sword high to the strange light above, seeing the light catch on the blade, seem to fill it, Fi’s power his power-
flowing through him like a river: they were a whirlwind, they were evil’s bane, they were unstoppable
-and he stood up despite it all, looking for an instant at the aracha from his new vantage point before sweeping sword across, angled down just enough, releasing a wave of blue-white radiance that cracked across the aracha and the chuchu behind them. Several dropped, motionless, their carapaces scorched, while those at the edges scuttled away, trailing damaged limbs or tail, or sporting scorchmarks that hadn’t burnt quite deep enough. Beyond them, the yellowish chuchu trembled, oozing from a brownish burnt slash across its front… or at least the part of it facing Link. He trembled slightly, the power he had released leaving him weaker again, but he clung to the feeling that, this time, had flooded his mind when he raised the sword, and refused to let a chuchu bar his way.
I can confirm that it is safe to strike the chuchu, Master. It has now expended its internal electric charge, and is currently defenceless.
It what? The question didn’t slow him even for an instant, stepping forward and bringing the bright sword down in an overhead swing that cut the wobbling creature in half. Both halves slumped sideways, away from each other; Link pivoted, wincing, to bisect them again and again, cutting the gelatinous blob to shreds. It might reform, but it would be a lot smaller when it did – and he would be long gone.
Chuchus of this yellowish form are capable of building up and storing large electric charges, which they then deploy to deter predators and subdue prey. When you came into contact with the chuchu, it discharged, causing you to experience an electric shock.
“It did?” Link repeated, picking his way gingerly through the ooze on the floor. He had to get to somewhere safer before he could risk sitting down, much as he wanted to. Had that been what happened? How had he ended up on the ground? How long had he been there? “Is that what- what happened?” His breath hissed through his teeth as a last longer stride finally took him clear of the mess, limping forwards for lack of a better direction, hoping to find somewhere he could stop. Now that both his initial panic and the fight were over, everything seemed to hurt even more.
Yes, Master Link. I detected the chuchu only moments before it touched you, from which I infer that it must have been concealed within the floor cavities. Its electrical signature must have been masked by the significant current flows in this facility. The shock caused you to land some distance from it. You were unconscious for less than five seconds; however, this was sufficient to induce the aracha to emerge.
Link shuddered.
I am currently analysing the map for enclosed locations that might provide a safer space in which to tend your wounds. There is a small room dedicated to equipment storage ahead and to your right. However, the pipes nearby are corroded, and venting steam. You will need to move with caution to avoid further injury. Alternatively, there is an administration office further ahead and to the left, beyond the heap of sand. This sand heap appears to have entered through a crack in the wall. It is currently stable; however, the structural integrity of the region is reduced.
“Doesn’t sound like we h-have any good choices.”
No, Master.
Steeling himself, Link glanced down at his right arm, only confirming what he had already known. His sleeve and arm alike were a torn mess, sticky with blood and ichor, and just looking at it seemed to give it an extra sting. His leg was in much the same state, every muscle ached, and whatever had happened to his feet – and his waist, almost a ring of pain beneath his belt – it hurt. Even without Fi’s calm advice, he knew he shouldn’t risk one of his two precious healing elixirs before at least inspecting the wounds, lest he make matters worse.
Gritting his teeth, Link limped onwards, sword in hand, looking for a break in the machinery that would allow him to turn right and find the storage room Fi had mentioned. A cluster of pipes descending from the ceiling looked to offer a potential opening, if also probably the danger of steam. He kept a cautious distance from it as he turned, relieved that, indeed, there was open space behind it, one processing line ending in whatever these tubes fed or drew from, and a wide gap between that and what seemed to be the beginning of a different processing line. As Fi has warned him, the pipes were old, streaked with discolouration, and several of them were hissing like a kettle: some continuously; two in regular pulses, as if something was periodically pumping. Link didn’t want to run, or jump, and it looked worryingly as though he might have to do both: not only could he see the high-pressure steam jets, the machinery across the gap was slick with condensed water, with no way around other than climbing across the dangerous-looking equipment.
I guess at least there’s water here…
It really wasn’t much of an upside.
“Do you think I can make it?”
The current limitations to your mobility reduce my estimate of your probability of success to approximately 85%.
“Well… I’ve done worse.”
It wasn’t as if he had all that much choice, either. The thought of turning away and moving on to some more distant potential safety felt like a lead weight. All he had to do here was make one leap, and open a door. It felt so tantalisingly close: he could see the door on the other side.
Mind made up, Link limped closer and braced himself, timing the bursts of steam by murmuring numbers under his breath, counting out the rhythm. He slipped the Goddess Sword back into its scabbard: he couldn’t risk landing on it when he hit the other side.
The first one went: One. Two. Three. The second. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. The first again: One. Two. The second. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
He might have had enough time just to step through, but it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.
Now! As the two steam jets went off almost together, Link dashed forward, forcing himself to stay on his feet with all his determination, throwing himself into a diving leap the same way he might have flung himself through a fence back on Spindrift as a small child, competing with his siblings and friends. Just as he had back then, he cleared the lower bar – or steam jet – without clipping the higher one, and just as he had then he twisted in mid-air to roll as he landed-
Very much unlike how he had landed as a boy, the impact and subsequent roll sent waves of pain through him, enough so that he yelped despite himself, coming to a stop curled almost into a ball.
Master, I do not recommend remaining in a prone position for any length of time in this location.
Fi’s prompt sent him scrambling back to his feet, looking around wildly, drawing the sword once more, its solid presence in his hand a comfort.
While I deduce that the unexpected motion and sound of the machinery has rendered the aracha in this hall temporarily less likely to attack than would otherwise be the case, you still represent a food supply of significant magnitude.
Link grimaced, limping the last few steps to the door.
“Is there… anything o-on the other… other side of this, Fi?”
Negative, Master. I detect no life signs beyond this door. However, you should proceed with caution regardless.
Link thought he sensed Fi’s focus shift an instant before the door grated open, sticking halfway before abruptly slamming back to the end of its track. Cautiously, he ventured into the dark space beyond, lights within activating as he did so that he could see it was simply a small, dusty room lined with shelves and compartments, various strange items still upon them where they had been left a thousand years before. He looked around slowly, cautiously, peering into every shadow, and it was only once he had satisfied himself that there really was nothing in there with him that Fi commanded the door to shut once more.
Sitting down at last, the Goddess Sword resting on the dusty floor beside him, Link leant back against the wall and sighed in pained relief.
You will need to inspect and clean your injuries, Master.
“Yeah… I know.”
Slowly, wincing at the motion, Link began to unbuckle his belt. To his surprise, Fi sprang from the sword as he did, floating before him somewhat bent over, as if she were inspecting him.
“Fi?”
She met his gaze, expressionless. “You have previously found the visible presence of my projection calming, Master.”
Link smiled weakly. “Thanks, then.” It was true: there was something reassuring about being able to see her, even though he knew full well she was just as much beside him in the sword. In its own way, it felt as though she cared.
* * *
Fi had talked him through cleaning both bites and burns, the latter the result of the electric shock: where his chainmail – which had conducted the electricity – had been closest to his skin, and where he’d been touching the floor. It had used more of his precious water than she or he would have liked, and been far more painful than he would have liked… but the relief as he drank the bottle of cool-tasting, slightly bitter medicine was almost blissful. It didn’t make him any less weary, or do anything for the state of his clothes, but it silenced the ache in his muscles and healed his wounds to mere fading marks, and that was all he really needed. Pulling his boots back on a little reluctantly, Link picked up the Goddess Sword and got to his feet, looking around the room with a clear head for the first time.
“What is all this stuff, Fi?”
“These items appear to be tools used for cleaning and maintenance,” Fi answered, still drifting beside him, now in her usual not-quite-standing pose. “The item you are looking at right now is a powerful debris blower. It is designed to use rapid air flow to move sand, dirt, and other unwanted small particles from almost any location. Although the unit has deteriorated, it would still function at reduced capacity if provided with a power core, due to the exceptionally sheltered location in which it has been stored.”
“That sounds a lot quicker than using a broom.” A quick smile flickered across Link’s face as he imagined cleaning his room by blowing all the dust out of the window. “Well… are you ready to go?”
“Of course, Master.” Fi inclined her head and leapt back into the sword with a faint chime. As Link turned to the door, it began to open again, still grating unpleasantly, and he slipped through the moment the gap was wide enough to let him.
The vast space on the other side seemed more or less unchanged. Fi’s sense of direction reasserted itself as he looked around, leading him towards the far end once again. Unlike the wide aisle he’d been walking down before, this side of the machinery seemed to be periodically interrupted with various moving belts and mechanisms connecting into the wall, and Link turned back to look at the hissing steam pipes. He wasn’t sure, but they seemed to be venting somewhat more aggressively than before.
“...Does that look like it’s getting worse to you, Fi?” he asked, pointing.
Judging by the increased volume of the projected steam, I deduce that pressure is building up in the mechanism to which these pipes are connected. I recommend bypassing them rapidly. If the pressure continues to increase, either the steam-producing mechanism or the pipes themselves will eventually reach the point of catastrophic failure.
Link grimaced. “Let’s get out of here before that happens.”
Agreed.
Looking at the steam jets, he stepped forward, sheathing the Goddess Sword and eyeing the timings. A few pulses were enough for him to decide that, at least, hadn’t changed, and Link dived through just as he had before, landing far more agilely and rolling back to his feet. Feeling slightly more confident at the ease of his success, he slipped shield from his back and the sword from its scabbard, continuing down the aisle alert and wary.
* * *
Fi had been right: the longer the machinery ran, the more accustomed to it and braver the aracha grew, some venturing to scuttle from their hiding places and leap at Link as he neared the far end of the hall, caught mid-air by shield and sword, their envenomed stings useless against metal and metal-plated wood. The relative ease with which he had cut them down was something of a relief: they felt like a much greater threat now, after what he had been through, than the two had that had leapt out at him in the lost city of Cronellon, a day and a long levitrain ride ago. The door, as Link neared it, was as huge as the one he’d entered the hall by, big enough to move even quite large pieces of machinery in and out of – something that made a lot more sense now he’d seen the full inside of the hall. Fi’s sense of direction was guiding him directly through it, and he walked boldly up to the great door, ready for anything.
Master, I have two significant pieces of information to impart.
“What is it?”
Firstly: I detect significant but slow lifesigns on the other side of this door. It is highly probable that there is a large creature in the space beyond that is currently in a state of torpor. The lifesigns bear a resemblance to those of a dormant aracha; however, they belong to an organism much larger. Secondly: although this door is receiving input, it has transmitted a negative status code. It would appear that the door is locked. There is a slot at your chest height which would receive a physical data token, which would serve as a key. It is highly probable that such a key would be kept in one of the administration offices.
Link looked at the slot dubiously. So thin he almost hadn’t noticed it, he could just about have posted a particularly thin letter into it, and very little else. Could it really be a kind of keyhole? If Fi said it was, though, he was inclined to believe she was right, even if he didn’t see how anything thin enough to put in there could be turned or pushed or anything else without breaking.
“...Didn’t you say there was an administration office near the sandfall?” He’d passed that perhaps two-thirds of the way along the hall. The machinery to the left had stopped most of it from encroaching into the aisle he was walking down, but it had been a mountainous pile, and the wall it must have come through was visibly deformed.
There is. Technically, there were multiple, but I predict that the majority of them are now inaccessible.
“We have to try it.” Link turned around, allowing himself a sigh, but no more. He wanted to reach Zelda as quickly as possible – and to get out of this strange, mechanical, subterranean place.
* * *
The office door had taken another use of the small power core to open, and the strange, too-perfect cavity it had opened in the sandfall beside it in reverting the area to a time before the sand had been there had left Link fearing that the entire thing would collapse on his head, despite Fi’s reassurances. He’d been very glad when he could knock the power core again and end the timeshift prematurely, the sandfall still steep, but now at least naturally sloped and therefore somewhat less ominous.
The office itself was another sealed room, covered with dust, its contents looking significantly less bizarre than the storage room he’d been in before. The desk was more of a panel covered in buttons and flat glass areas, none of them visibly working; the handful of shelves held small boxes and little more.
“What am I looking for, Fi?”
The key will be a flat device, approximately the size of your hand and rectangular in outline. It will most probably have a wider section along one of the short sides for ease of gripping. This was recorded as a standard electronic key form in this region.
Picturing something about the size and shape of a sealed letter, Link nodded. “Okay.”
In the end, the sixth box he opened – and the sixth cloud of dust he disturbed – proved to contain the device he was looking for. Far more complex than the outside of a letter, it was toothed and grooved, strange geometric patterns inlaid into it in shimmering gold that almost reminded him of a coiling snake, and despite how thin and light it was, it seemed sturdy even after the millennium it had spent sitting motionless in the room. He could feel Fi’s sense of confirmation that he’d found it even before she spoke, musical in his mind.
The words on the wider section confirm that this is the key to the Temple branch of this facility.
Link allowed himself a brief grin of mingled triumph and relief, switching the key to his right hand and drawing the sword once again before venturing back out of the door, hastening away from the sandfall in relief.
He was about halfway back to the door Fi had guided him to – there had been others, at intervals, and if he hadn’t been surrounded by danger and on such an urgent task he might have tried to investigate them – when she abruptly spoke again.
I detect the aura of the spirit maiden, your friend Zelda.
It was the best news Link had heard all day, and he felt himself grinning like an idiot. “Where? Do you know if she’s okay?”
I cannot determine her precise physical status at this range, but her aura is strong and shows no discernible signs of damage or dimming as might accompany a serious injury. Her position relative to our location, and to other significant auras in the region, places her at the Temple of Time. The sudden appearance and strength of her aura indicates that she is engaged in an activity requiring significant concentration of power, such that her probable Sheikah companion is no longer able to mask it.
“Then we should hurry!” Link sped up to a jog, his weariness and dust-dry throat forgotten. All he had to do was get into the ‘Temple branch’, slip by whatever Fi had said was sleeping in there, and maybe, finally, he would catch up to his friend! He begrudged every second it took him to get to the door; had to turn the strange inlaid card around in his hand twice before getting it the right way up to insert. As it pushed the last of the way into the slot, there was a click, and a little pointer that Link had taken to be part of the decoration flicked to a different direction.
“Was that it? Will it open?”
I can confirm that you have unlocked the door, Master. I advise caution when proceeding beyond.
“I know.” Link got a grip on his emotions, schooling himself back to alert caution. “There’s something big sleeping in there.” He took a deep breath, reaching back for his shield, preparing himself just in case. “Okay, Fi, I’m ready.”
With a heavy clunk and a grinding sound, the huge door opened, and Link stepped through.
The room beyond was dimly and patchily lit, as if some of the lights above weren’t working – and the sand that whispered beneath Link’s damaged boots told the tale of why even before he looked around. The room seemed to be a sort of antechamber leading into another, much narrower and seemingly higher-set hall, but to his right the wall had long since given way, spilling an untold depth of sand across the room and all it might have contained. Link looked around warily, but there was no sign of anything living, large or otherwise.
Master, I detect that the lifesigns are accelerating. The creature within this chamber is waking up. Fi’s words arrived in Link’s mind almost instantaneously, despite their melody, and he snapped his guard up, looking around once again. Where was it, where-
The sand beneath his feet shifted, and Link jumped back, startled: was the ground giving way? Was the damage to the wall spreading – was he about to be buried?! It shifted again, in a line, almost, a huge moving mound as if-
As if something was beneath it. Link had only just completed the thought when the something burst up through the sand, a monstrosity of shining black and lashing limbs, a great blue-red eye staring at him from the threshing mass, a hooked arc swaying above it. It almost took a moment for Link’s stunned brain to process what he was seeing: was this some kind of gigantic aracha?! It was huge, big enough to eat a loftwing in a few bites!
Preliminary analysis complete, Fi informed him. This specimen appears to be a form of aracha only previously hypothesised. Aracha grow throughout their lifespan, moulting their exoskeleton at regular intervals, and have never been found to enter a state of senescence. The size of this individual is evidence that it has lived for over one thousand years. Its chitin is now so sturdy that direct blows will be minimally effective. The chitin plates have significant overlap: a direct strike through the eye is the only straightforward method of killing it. The pincers can exert a sustained force capable of crushing bone, but there is a weakness within them at their base where the muscle that closes them is relatively exposed. The venom in the tail is highly potent and should be avoided.
Link rather thought the whole thing should be avoided, but it was in his way and if he wanted to get to Zelda he had no choice but to get past.
There is a 95% probability that this chamber has served as this aracha’s lair for much of its lifespan, providing a sheltered space from which it can burrow to the surface in order to hunt. Our intrusion is predicted to be exceptionally unwelcome.
The gigantic aracha lashed its tail, threatening Link with first one pincer, then the other. It moved with deceptive speed, scuttling sideways while keeping its one eye fixed on him, forcing him to turn and back away. Fear clutched at him, but he forced himself to concentrate, watching the thing’s movements like any other opponent. There – a moment’s greater withdrawal of the left pincer, and he was leaping back just as it snapped at him, closing on the empty air where he had been just heartbeats before! Clumsier than he liked on the shifting sand, he backed up further, trying to circle – only for the aracha to change its tactics and come around the other way, cutting him off from reaching the far corridor. Link gritted his teeth and stood his ground, trying to watch every part of the creature at once, from twitching pincers to swaying tail. It feinted with a pincer, once, twice – then a sudden stiffening of the tail once again warned Link just in time as it whipped forward and slammed into the sand with tremendous force, likely enough that it would have severely damaged his shield and knocked him off his feet even if it hadn’t penetrated it. The aracha jerked its tail back in the next moment, then abruptly made a scuttling rush that forced Link to outright throw himself aside, the left pincer just barely passing over his head, the impacts of its row of clawed feet actually tangible through the sand. It was past him – and he was past it – and maybe, just maybe, if he moved fast enough-
He was still moving even as the thoughts went through his head; came back to his feet and started running for the exit as behind him the aracha whipped round, all six legs moving in a complicated and obscenely rapid dance, coming after him faster than he could run – the sound and the vibrations and Fi’s warning and the shadow all combined into one frantic moment of knowledge, and again Link threw himself sideways to land sprawled in the sand as the grasping pincers missed him by inches, so close that the giant aracha actually planted a painfully heavy foot on his back and then abruptly backed off. Link scrambled to his feet in a spray of sand, turning and half-staggering away, the need to see the creature far outweighing the need to get his balance. Just in time he saw the tell-tale stiffening of the tail; leapt out of the way as it hit the spot where he had just been. If he could just get a bit further back, just a little further around-
He saw the left pincer withdraw that extra fraction, darted the other way – the right way, he just had to keep going – and-
-and almost in the same moment, as the left pincer clacked shut on where he had been, the right one slammed closed on where he was, sudden force driving the breath from his lungs and inexorably tightening! He couldn’t even gasp for air, let alone call to Fi, the crushing pressure growing with every instant-
Master, your left arm still has freedom of motion. The words cascaded into his mind almost as a single musical note, as a thought, an idea. It is also in close proximity to the inner muscle of the pincer. Strike upwards immediately!
Link obeyed, somehow, the breath crushed out of him, even as he thought he felt something snap inside his chest: twisting wrist and elbow to bring the Goddess Sword up with all his remaining strength, bright blade glowing palely, scraping along the bottom of the pincer as it reached the right angle; scraping upwards; hitting resistance-
The unbearable pressure abruptly ended, dropping him gasping to the ground, his chest burning. A buzzing, hissing screech assaulted his ears, and Link forced himself to lift his head, start to push himself up: the immense aracha was holding its right pincer close to its body, tucked inwards and hanging open at an awkward-looking angle, its tail lashing and its other pincer snapping at the air.
Stand, Master.
Somehow, Link obeyed, still gasping raggedly despite the pain every breath caused him, struggling to his feet and lifting sword and shield. For a moment that felt like forever, he and the aracha stared at one another, both injured, both defiant.
Though it was the last thing Link felt like doing, he flourished the sword, letting the blade catch the dim light.
Abruptly, the aracha spun, charging the sand where it piled against the wall, digging into it with a spray of sand and vanishing in an almost ridiculously short space of time. Link stared blankly after it for several moments after it had disappeared.
I can confirm that the aracha has departed this chamber. You have sustained cracked ribs, but no other serious injuries. It is advisable that you heal yourself before further conflict.
Link nodded wordlessly. Breathing hurt enough that he didn’t want to try to speak. Moving carefully, he walked the last few paces to the ramp up to the hallway; climbed it and stopped at its top. That had to be far enough from the sand… at least far enough that he’d see the huge aracha coming if it did return.
As he drank his second and last medicinal elixir, Fi spoke once more, and all the melody had fled her flat and rapid voice.
Master Link, I detect the arrival of the demon Ghirahim.
Notes:
Aaaaagh that got so long but I couldn't find a good clean place I really wanted to end it! We get one of my favourite bosses, and guess what, this chapter saw Ardil learn more about electric shocks! The things we do for writing.
Patch Notes
- Bottomless pits removed.
- Chuchu shocks converted to DC.
- Machinery redesigned to have relevant purpose.
- Bizarre obstacle course converted to functional refinery (for the most part).
- Defensive lasers moved to places likely to actually need defending (i.e. outside).
- Robots using high-pitched sound to communicate engineer high-quality acoustic damping for lower frequencies.
- Local predator in non-evil surroundings now adopts more standard predator behaviour, including survival instinct.
Chapter 51: On What Seemed the Gears of Time
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Master Link, I detect the arrival of the demon Ghirahim.
Link nearly choked, only barely managing to swallow the last of the elixir instead of spitting it everywhere. The coughing fit that resulted at least hurt less and less as the medicine took effect, but he still felt a bit like he’d just been punched as he straightened up.
“Where?” he demanded urgently. “How far away is he?”
He is on a route consistent with his having deviated from the levirail shortly before reaching the station, and is closing the distance rapidly. I detect the use of short-range teleportation. The probability that he has also detected the aura of the spirit maiden is 100%.
“Then we’ve got to hurry.” Even as he spoke, Link was already running, empty bottle still in his hand. The corridor ahead was long and dark, strange lights flickering into being as he approached and illuminating statues in alcoves and walls still painted with murals beneath the dust. At any other time Link would have stopped to look at them; with Ghirahim bearing down on Zelda somewhere outside, he barely even noticed they were there.
It took far, far too long to finally reach the other end, and when Link did he almost ran into the door: he’d felt Fi’s attention shift minutely and assumed she was telling it to open, and while he’d been right…
Master Link, this door is unresponsive. You will need to open it manually. The manual operation mechanism is to the right.
Begrudging every second, Link almost scrabbled at the unobtrusive panel that Fi drew his eyes to, yanking it open with a squeal of hinges that had gone unused for more than a millennium.
Rotate the handle 90 degrees anticlockwise, then pull it towards you.
Fi’s words were as rapid as he’d ever known them, a single burst of clear thought, and Link acted instantly. The handle seemed stuck; he gripped it with both hands and threw all his strength into it, yanking it around inch by grating, protesting inch until at last the formerly horizontal handle was vertical. He threw his full weight into the pull, and it resisted at first, then snapped out so suddenly that he lost his grip, landing hard on the dusty floor. Instantly he scrambled back to his feet, ignoring the bruising jolt of the impact, to see a new line of golden light shining in down the right-hand side of the door, above a pile of gently spilling sand.
No, no, no…
He could see sunlight; the door wasn’t completely blocked. The sand outside looked to be waist-height, maybe, or a little more. He could get the door open, had to get the door open.
He set both hands to the gap, braced his feet against the painted wall, and pushed. Everything he had, all his determination, all his will, all the strength left in him. Link pushed – and slowly, painfully, grating every step of the way and spilling a small mountain of sand to the floor beneath, the door was forced open.
Link stopped the moment it was wide enough to admit him and all his gear, righting himself almost unsteadily, trembling with the effort. But there was no time, no time at all, and he dragged in a desperate breath before scrambling through, having to twist sideways to fit with the shield on his back, slipping in the still-spilling sand and climbing up – up? – yes, up a steep slope with a flight of stairs at its edges. The clouds at its top were coloured like blossom, pink and cream, edged with gold and shadowed with a deep darkness. Sunset, seen from below, and it had finished catching up to him even as he and Fi had hastened as best they could through the mine.
Link reached the top of the steps still panting, ran forwards into the light… and was forced to stumble to a stop. After so long in the dimly lit underground, the full sunset light was dazzling, and he blinked squinting, shading his eyes with a hand, still begrudging every heartbeat wasted.
He could hear… music?
Eyes watering, Link squinted into the setting sun. Silhouetted against it was the incredible, impossible, soaring monument to the goddess, and below that a different light, pale blue as a midwinter sky yet at the same time the infinitely deep blue of the sky after the sun has set. And before that, still another light: as much smaller again as the blue light was than the statue, and shaped…
The sun that slipped through the monument streamed around Zelda, caught in her blonde hair and impossibly white dress, and it almost seemed to frame her as if with vast, radiant wings, sheeting past the tall, thin woman beside her as if she wasn’t there. For a single moment, Link stared.
“...Zelda!”
The music faltered, and Zelda turned, looking over her shoulder, the harp she’d been playing still in her hands. She seemed to look at him as if from across an impossibly vast distance – but in the next instant, her expression dissolved into relief and joy.
“Link!”
“Zelda, Ghirahim is coming, he, Fi thinks he knows you’re here!” Even as he spoke, Link was running again to put himself between her and any threat: as his vision adjusted he’d seen the bridge across an empty ravine, its bottom dust-dry with tumbled rocks, and Zelda on the other side, and beyond her but before the towering monument an incredible and strange something, at once out of place and yet perfectly right, a great gear etched in shimmering lines turning, turn-stop-turn like the heartbeat of the world, meshing smoothly with what seemed to be parts of others that were there and weren’t, shimmering in and out of existence in a way that made his eyes give up. It was the most awe-inspiring thing he had ever seen, even more so than the sword on his back or the building rising from the sand or any of the wild and terrifying wonders of the surface.
And he refused to let himself appreciate it. It was there, it was noted, and it was thrust to the back of his mind though he would never see it for the first time again, because all that mattered was defending Zelda before Ghirahim reached her, no golden door here to bar his way. The bridge was the only way across; that meant he would defend the bridge, and turn his back on all the wonder and all the grandeur and even on his friend herself. He planted his feet and spun, sword and shield in hand, and in the same moment Fi warned him inflectionlessly:
Master.
Link searched the arc of rock and sand and stone visible beyond the crumbled archway that had once been a grand entrance, and at once his eyes snapped to a running figure, pale as ice with red cape fluttering behind like a spray of blood, vanishing briefly before the rubble only to leap up onto it, poised for an instant before jumping lithely down, landing in a perfect crouch.
Ghirahim straightened up, drawing his lethal blade, and the sound he made was one of smug satisfaction.
“Hmm. So… here you are at last. And I see you’ve arrived to stop me once again.” His attention flickered from Zelda to Fi, the Goddess Sword bright and mute in Link’s hand. “Normally, I would let you. It is so much more interesting having someone almost worthy to spar with. But, I am not so old that I can’t learn my lessons.” He was smiling his predatory smile, stalking closer one slow and deliberate step at a time. Drawing it out. “I simply don’t have the time right now… so you” and he vanished, and Link spun around sword raised just in time to see him reappear on his other side “will have to wait.”
And Link was running, already running as Ghirahim raised his sword and swung it down with a wordless yell; almost on him as a barrier sprang into being before him like darkness and diamond shards and, unable to check himself, he ran full-tilt into it.
It was like hitting a wall, only worse, noisome and wrong, vile as the invisible residue of Ghirahim’s grip on Fi’s perfect blade and painful with it, like needles in his bones or in his soul. Link staggered back, shaking his head to clear it, and in that same moment Ghirahim charged across the bridge and straight at Zelda where she stood armed with nothing but a harp.
Charged – and was stopped. Unbelievably, the tall, thin Sheikah woman had darted forwards from Zelda’s side, so quick Link had barely even registered her motion, and now with all the whipcord strength of her hard life she had caught the demon by the wrist, holding his sword hand at bay, leaning hard against him and braced against the ground, nullifying his motion for a precious, impossible breath.
“Impa!” Zelda cried, as if trying to forbid her or call her back.
“Really, Impa?” Ghirahim asked, tension in his voice suggesting he was pressing against her, though neither moved. “Yes, I know you. I’d recognise the traces of your meddling spirit anywhere. But at last, you’re fool enough-” and he twisted and spun, and Impa moved with him, a parody of a dance so blindingly fast Link could barely see it through the barrier’s distortion, but at the end of his motion Ghirahim was still standing and the Sheikah, Impa, was staggering back, hand clamped to her bleeding arm “-to come face to face with me!”
“Your Radiance, quickly, to the Gate!” Impa cried, pain and resignation and determination mingled in her voice as Ghirahim drew back his sword and she held out her bloodied hand as if the gesture alone could hold him back.
“No!” Zelda shouted, and it wasn’t a denial but a command, her voice ringing with a kind of authority Link had never heard. A shimmering golden shield sprang into being between Ghirahim and Impa, and as the demon hacked furiously at it, Zelda dashed sideways to face Link across the ravine, just past the point where the edge of Ghirahim’s barrier would have blocked him from her view.
“Link, take this! You’ll need it if I’m not with you!”
Link opened his mouth to protest, but before he could even begin to speak Zelda was already holding the harp out as if she could pass it to him, light shining from behind her, through her – from her? – in a single golden sunbeam. It wasn’t just light, but something more, a feeling like an outstretched hand, and Link let go of the grip of his shield – strapped to his arm, it sagged but didn’t fall – to hold his own out, palm up. The harp materialised in it like light becoming solid, and Link closed his fingers around it reflexively, the light fading in the same moment.
Master, Fi’s silent, rapid voice said, low and soft and utterly toneless, compressed into bare instants, I have completed an analysis of Ghirahim’s barrier. When charged with power, your sword will be able to cut through it, at the cost of a significant expenditure of energy. The strength of the barrier is also weakening as Ghirahim continues to expend his own power against the radiant shield.
Link’s eyes flicked back to the barrier, and he realised he could see that for himself: the shard-speckled darkness was less complete, more translucent, the shardlike shapes within it smaller and fewer. Gritting his teeth, he raised his blade to the sky-
-the taste of smoke and ash and a battle like an endless horror in which there was no beginning or end-
-and as it shone with light, he drew it back, and drove it with all his strength, all his determination, into the dark barrier before him! The Goddess Sword blazed with power, penetrating so very slowly as if he were pushing it into something only slightly softer than rock, the intangible diamond shards seeming the spray out from it like sparks and fade. Ghirahim screamed in what sounded to Link like rage and frustration, hacking even more violently at the golden shield, which had begun to flicker with every impact, and Link’s blade cut deeper, cut through; he forced it down with all his might and it cut a ragged gash into the shadowy barrier! It had taken a supreme effort in more ways than the physical, and there was still more to go: Link drove the sword deeper still, Fi’s light burning against the cloying darkness, then threw himself against the tear. It resisted, burning against him, for a moment – then ripped like a piece of fabric, and he stumbled through.
The broken barrier vanished behind him as Ghirahim withdrew the last of his power from it, screaming a curse in a language over a thousand years dead, striking one last vicious blow that sent cracks splintering across the surface of the fading golden shield. Link flung the harp’s carrying strap over his head and instantly forgot about it, gripping his shield once more and charging, his every sense fixed utterly on the demon ahead who would all too soon be through the-
The golden shield shattered and Link threw himself at Ghirahim in almost the same moment, the demon off-balance for just – long – enough! Even as Ghirahim twisted, his weight shifting, the Goddess Sword’s peerless blade sliced down, slashing across his leg as he leapt away, back past Link to where he could face all his foes at once. Link spun, refusing to let his enemy out of his sight, not risking even one glance back to where Impa and Zelda had retreated to the great, turning, somehow unfathomably deep creation behind them, a backpack in Impa’s good hand and some sort of statuette balanced oddly on her shoulder.
“Link!”
Though it was Zelda who called him, he didn’t let his eyes waver from Ghirahim even for an instant as the demon’s attention shifted slowly from his injury – a shallow cut much like the other Link had caused him, the torn cloth around it far more dramatic – to Link in rage.
“Link, tell the Sheikah what happened! They’ll know what to do!” Zelda’s voice caught, and Link could hear a farewell in it. With every fibre of his being he wanted to turn around, and with every last scrap of will he forced himself not to. “I promise I’ll see you again, Link!”
He heard a note then, a strange sad note like a wind instrument, and then another, somehow dissonant as if conflicting with a melody he couldn’t quite hear. The dissonance grew, Ghirahim staring at something behind Link and a sound that was not a sound reverberating through everything: in the sword in Link’s hand, in his bones or perhaps in his soul.
The heartbeat snapped.
Something shattered behind him, something huge that snatched the breath from his lungs and felt as though it sent him flying though his body was unmoving, a cascade in his head like a waterfall, a torrent, a shockwave that passed him in an instant and buffeted him for a hundred years. Chunks and shards of dull blue crystal crashed and tinkled and skittered in all directions from behind him, and Link knew that something terrible and irreversible and somehow almost inevitable had happened.
The shock faded from Ghirahim’s grey features, slowly replaced with furious frustration. He lifted his empty left hand to his chest; clenched it slowly into a fist.
“Now you’ve done it… Link.” For once, he was Looking at Link himself, not the blade in his hand. Link could feel the weight of his gaze, and the fury of it. Ghirahim pointed his own sabre at him, deadly and unwavering – but made no move to strike, merely silent for a moment, and the rage in his voice when he spoke again seemed somehow leashed. “I blame myself. I should have reprimanded you the last time we met, but instead I was… soft.”
Why isn’t he attacking? was all Link could think.
No data. Fi’s silent voice was utterly flat and still.
“There’s nothing I’d like more than to punish you now…” Ghirahim lowered his sword, his stance almost insultingly casual. “But I have no time for recreation. It’s quite clear what I must do.” He shifted his weight as if to turn away, then paused, pointing back at Link. “But next time, I’ll do more than just beat you senseless.” For a few moments, his gaze shifted to the Goddess Sword, to Fi. “I won’t just cut him down. No…” The cruel smile that spread across his face as he looked back to Link chilled him to the bone. “I’ll show you what I’ve learnt from those Sheikah dogs. I’ll make the affair so excruciating you’ll deafen yourself with the shrill sound of your own screams. I’ll make you wish I’d just killed you when we last met…”
One step at a time, he was backing away.
“Until we meet again… Link.”
Sweeping his cloak around himself with a flourish, Ghirahim leapt back up onto the rubble, jumped down on the other side, and was gone from view.
Slowly, shakily, Link straightened, the tension leaving him and all the exhaustion he’d been ignoring crashing in on him. Zelda was gone, again. He’d helped her, or he thought he had, but Zelda was gone. The strange and wondrous thing that had been here was destroyed, by her hand or by Impa’s. Ghirahim had sworn bloody vengeance on him. And he was exhausted and almost alone in the desert ruins, and all he knew was that he had to find the Sheikah.
Link walked slowly to the dais where the device had once stood, and sat down hard amidst the rubble. After a moment, he lifted his pristine sword from the ground and rested it carefully across his knees.
“Fi… are you okay?”
I am undamaged, Master. The melody had begun to return to her silent voice. I detect that Ghirahim is leaving, consistent with his statements.
“What… do you think he’s… he’s going to do?”
I do not have sufficient data to draw a reliable conclusion. I project that he considers himself to have some means of potentially reaching Zelda. Analysis of his aura immediately prior to and during his final speech indicated that he restrained himself from engaging you in combat with significant difficulty. I deduce that the idea that occurred to him was one that he considered to have a probability of success notably higher than any other course of action.
“I guess… we’ll just have to hurry, too.” Link breathed out slowly, a long and shaky sigh, and for a moment almost felt as though he couldn’t catch his breath again. He shuddered, gasping a couple of quick breaths, and the feeling faded. “But we… We stopped him this time… right? We were… fast enough?”
We arrived in time to divert his initial attack and neutralise his assault, Fi confirmed. Had we been earlier, it is possible that we would have gained additional information. However, I do not predict that any material difference would have been made to the battle.
“We were fast enough,” Link repeated, whispering to himself. Carefully holding the sword as he moved, he leant back on a chunk of dull blue rubble, cool and still and somehow unsettlingly rock-like, with no sense of power or motion or indeed anything left in it. Above him, the clouds were still reflecting the last of the light, but even the highest point of the great monument to the goddess was in shadow, and he knew the sun had set.
“Fi… What was all this? What happened…?”
This debris previously formed the Gate of Time, as you have guessed, Master. I have been unable to detect Zelda’s aura since the moment immediately prior to its destruction. The music that she was playing as she entered it, amplified by the power that has awoken within her, was undoubtedly the cause. The temporal harmonics within it were chosen and timed to cause maximum disruption to the Gate of Time’s function.
At last, abruptly, Fi vaulted from the sword, leaning at an unlikely angle to bring her face to a level with Link’s. A faint, weak smile crossed his face unbidden.
“I was unable to determine the era to which the Gate of Time was attuned when Zelda entered it. However, the probability that she arrived safely is near 100%, despite the destruction of the Gate in this time period. The means by which she broke it could not have been employed by one unable to perceive and comprehend the interaction. Therefore, her passage is likely to have been controlled.”
“Wait, wait, wait… The era?”
Fi nodded smoothly. “The Gate of Time is a means of travelling from one era of time to any other in which that Gate exists. The gate here was built in honour of the Goddess of Time by the robots of the temporal cycle that once governed this region.” She looked up, righting herself effortlessly. “No specific reason for a monument honouring Goddess Hylia to have been built here exists in my database. It is possible that this was the only sacred site in this city, and that following the assistance of the goddess’ people, the robots who remained in this region constructed it out of gratitude.”
Link nodded, the broken chunk of stone or crystal he was leaning on hard beneath his head. “That would make sense… The goddess has always watched over us…”
Considering his exhaustion and fragile emotional state, Fi considered it wisest to make no further comment on that topic.
“…So Zelda’s in another time…?” Predictably, Link’s thoughts had already turned back to his lost friend.
“That is correct, Master. Since she instructed us to seek out the Sheikah, I deduce that it is probable that they will have further information concerning how to locate and contact or retrieve her. I recommend returning to the Sealed Grounds and speaking to Mahra Impa.”
“Okay.” It felt a little better to have a more concrete goal. That, at least, he knew exactly how to do.
Fi observed her master in silence for a short while longer.
“Master, I recommend finding shelter. The desert night will become uncomfortably cold if you are not in motion.”
Link didn’t want to move, but he slowly pushed himself to his feet anyway, looking at the sword in his hand for a long moment before finally sheathing it.
“Lead the way, Fi...”
Notes:
And now for my favourite boss, even if this isn’t a time we fight him. He's grown on me a lot since starting to write this.
I’m also very hyped for the next chapter, we’ll start answering some of the questions I've set up soon!
Patch Notes
- Ghirahim no longer wastes power on exploding rubble he will demonstrate the ability to jump over less than ten seconds later.
- Link no longer barred from intervening in cutscene quite so harshly and completely.
- Link given actual agency in the timing of his interventions.
- Proto- Blade of Evil’s Bane now also effective against evil shields.
- God-level powers removed from Impa; given to, I don’t know, perhaps the actual ex-deity hanging around in this scene? (Seriously, what the hell, game?)
- Swords now have to actually hit people for those people to take injury.
- Secretive ninja no longer tells Ghirahim to his face where Link is about to go and who he’s about to want to talk to.
- Effects of breaking powerful artefact now significant.
Chapter 52: A Shard of Something Intricate
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Zelda gazed up at the Gate of Time, turning slowly and majestically before her. It was awe-inspiring, incredible, and the Skyloft schoolgirl in her wanted to stare, to take it all in, perhaps to try and sketch it, as if paper could possibly contain its wonder.
But she had seen it before, and had studied its design; helped to build a second one; had attuned it and become herself for the first time in doing so. The Gate of Time she had completed slumbered still sealed in her long-ruined temple, where only one thing could provide the key. Only this Gate of Time would allow her to travel safely back to the past, and prepare the way for Link and for their final steps.
She hadn’t expected the robots to build a monument in her honour above it… and certainly not one that bore the Triforce. Had someone told them, in the long years between? It was touching, however, and if their mechanical minds couldn’t leave the imprint of emotion in the stone the way that humans could, still she could see it in their work. As well, it would provide an excellent landmark to guide Link to the Gate: the terrain she and Impa had crossed was almost completely impassable to someone on foot, and he’d have to find another route.
She sighed, short and sharp, and shook herself. Every second was precious, and she couldn’t afford to risk delay.
“Impa, would you release Parasova, please?”
The tall woman blinked, her attention torn from the Gate, and nodded. “Of course.” Her voice was so soft, just a breath above a whisper: she’d explained as they journeyed how her people learnt from childhood to never make a betraying sound unless they must. It sounded like a hard and deadly life, and Zelda had wished she could have protected them from it – but their ancestors had been volunteers all, knowing what they would face, and their unshakeable devotion had passed down unbroken through each of their descendants, and she loved them all the more deeply for it.
Lifted from Impa’s pack and placed on the ground, Para jerkily unfolded herself into a sitting position.
“What is it, Mistress?”
“Would you mind helping with the attunement, please? As a backup?”
“It will be just like old times, Mistress!”
Zelda smiled despite herself. Para, too, had changed over the long, hard years: more acerbic, if slightly less loudly opinionated, and somehow… older. Yet she was still the same loyal artificial companion Saina had fled the Cycle with, programmed and reprogrammed to aid her in any venture. The screen on the back of Para’s head slowly unfolded to its maximum size, and Zelda winced at the number of dead and discoloured pixels as it lit up. Still, she could read it, and that was what mattered most.
She reached for her harp, always her favourite instrument on Skyloft, always Hylia’s favourite instrument since long before that. Imbued now with her divine power, it all but sang under her fingers as she lifted it out, the strap she could carry it by hanging loose.
“Temporal analysis routines initialised. Loading previous Gate data.” Parasova hummed for a few moments, a slightly static-laced sound. “Data loaded. Begin whenever you’re ready!”
Zelda smiled again, almost sadly, and began to play, gently caressing liquid notes from the strings. She felt more than heard the subtle resonances in the Gate of Time before her, aware of each echoed harmonic just before it appeared on Para’s battered screen. Without a temporal resonator or any other piece of equipment designed for the purpose, she could only match time’s music with her own, and let the tune itself tell her what she needed to know. The Gate of Time was so phenomenally complex that it had once taken her days to attune her own; even with all her divine power, all her mortal soul’s understanding, she couldn’t hope to simply run a quick scan up and down the frequencies the way she would with a piece of Timeshift Stone.
“...Resonance era located!” Parasova reported, almost five minutes later, as Zelda sighed with the same understanding and let her music fade. “The Gate of Time is currently tuned to the beginning of the Cycle. I suppose that makes sense, Mistress, but it doesn’t seem very useful.”
“I agree,” Zelda said, thoughtful. “We’ll need to bring it forward. Past the reversion point of the Cycle, ideally… and late enough that we don’t risk temporal breakdown.”
“Temporal breakdown, Your Radiance?” Impa asked softly, almost diffidently, as if unsure whether she should be asking the question. Zelda merely nodded: Impa was owed every explanation.
“It was only ever studied theoretically, but if you were to go back to the past and set up events that would prevent the present in which you went back to the past from occurring, the results could be catastrophic. We have to ensure we’re maintaining a stable causal chain as long as we’re behind the latest time we’ve ever entered – that means that we need to make sure what has happened happens, and things that haven’t happened don’t happen. If they did…”
Zelda trailed off, closing her mortal eyes, the better to listen to her instincts, her wider-spread awareness. Perceptions far beyond simple sight and hearing were hers, sometimes almost overwhelming to her mortal soul, and her intuition was telling her that if she looked, she might see, see the ever-changing landscape of time surrounding her. Not a stream, not a river, but the sky in a tempest: ever-shifting, ever-changing, eternal and yet…
Bounded?
She knew then that the Goddess of Time was looking on, unfathomable and distant, and there was no greeting from her, nor even subtlest hint of feeling: only observation from afar, where once they had spoken, once the Goddess had warned her.
Do not wish to be other than you are, or you will be a goddess no more.
The price is beyond your sight.
The choice is and must be yours, and I shall neither help nor hinder more than in the giving my gifts will and have.
Save those you choose so dearly, Little Sister, and be it our goodbye.
At last she thought she understood. Her choices made, the Goddess of Time would no longer speak with her, for each thought would be an influence she could not exert. She would only watch, now, as the consequences fell where they would, and time flowed into patterns Zelda’s awareness did not have the breadth to see.
“We’ll go back to shortly after… everything,” she decided aloud, opening her eyes. “The second Gate of Time will be closed, and we can’t risk interfering with that event until and unless we’re completely ready, but we’ll have time to set up everything we need to… and Ghirahim probably won’t yet be in any state to interfere. He’ll have been very drained after the sealing.” Even as she spoke, she felt a fundamental temporal rightness to the idea, like something half-anticipated falling into place. So this causal chain is stable… I hope. “Let’s aim for about a week after the event.”
“Understood, Mistress,” Para chirped. “The calculations will take a while, though. Even when I was brand new it would still have been a massive computational task!”
Zelda smiled fondly. “Don’t worry, Para. I think I can bring the Gate forward until we reach the right era. It’ll take longer than just setting it directly, but it’ll be quicker than calculating the correct setting.”
“So your temporal capacities are fully integrated?”
“I think so. The Gate here feels… like something I understand. I don’t think I’ll have any difficulty manipulating it any more.”
“Excellent!” the little assistant declared in her scratchy voice, almost proudly. “Then I’ll keep my monitoring routines active!”
“You might want to rest, Impa,” Zelda added, turning to her. “This will still take hours.”
Impa nodded. “I will stand guard, Your Radiance.”
* * *
Time flowed around her, with her, impossibly complex, her divine awareness encompassing it and her temporal soul comprehending it, her whole being sunk into matching its music, guiding the Gate of Time’s destination gently forwards through the years. Slowly at first, then faster: a year, a decade, then two, then four…
And then something burst in on her, a voice almost as familiar as her own, a voice twice beloved, and her fingering slowed and stopped as her mind turned from the skeins of time. She twisted to look over her shoulder, seeing her Chosen her friend staring back at her, and relief and joy pulled her back to the present as her heart leapt and wept at once. He was standing at the top of a stairwell that Zelda vaguely remembered led down to the refinery, sandy and scuffed and a desperate urgency overriding the moment of joy and relief in his eyes.
“Zelda,” Link repeated, already starting to run again though she could hear the gasps for breath between his words, “Ghirahim is coming, he, Fi thinks he knows you’re here!”
Zelda’s awareness snapped wide at his words, and she realised in shock just how close Ghirahim was, how close he’d come before she had even become aware of him, so absorbed in her work had she been. He was almost outside, running closer, closer with every breath, all at once outside the temple’s fallen entrance, leaping up onto the rubble and lightly down again. Straightening from the crouch he had landed in, he drew his blade, all predatory satisfaction, and a shiver of ice ran down Zelda’s mortal spine.
“Hmm. So, here you are at last.”
His eyes met Zelda’s and looked through her, across a thousand years to all that lay within, and – she could only hope – overlooked or dismissed as insignificant all that was not the goddess he sought. For her part, she knew him with a shudder of revulsion: something wrought to kill that delighted in destruction and in blood. Endings were one thing, sorrowful but ultimately as natural as beginnings, but Ghirahim’s every move seemed to her drenched in violence.
His eyes moved on without a pause, for the moment in which they saw one another had been only that.
“And I see you’ve arrived to stop me once again.” It was Fi he spoke to, the spirit of the sword so silent and still, poised as a held breath in the eye of the storm, the subtlest trace of something else that Zelda could not place. And as long as it was only Fi he spoke to, as long as he did not know the truth of what she had wrought, still her half-forged sword was… if not safe, at least concealed. “Normally, I would let you. It is so much more interesting having someone almost worthy to spar with. But, I am not so old that I can’t learn my lessons. I simply don’t have the time right now… so you will have to wait.” He moved as he spoke, first step by deliberate step, then slipping sideways from space to space in the manner he had – so long ago – learnt from those who would become the Sheikah, or perhaps from he who they had served before Hylia and in whose memory they wept. From space to space he stepped, and as he stopped he raised his sword; swung it down with a cry and threw up a shield of demonic power across his path! Zelda flinched to feel it, like a warped and weaker mockery of her own innate powers; flinched again to see Link slam headlong into it and stagger back.
In the moment that she flinched, Ghirahim charged, and before she could even think to raise a shield against him Impa had moved, dashing from her side with lightning speed to throw her mortal strength against Ghirahim, catching his white-clad wrist in both strong hands, bracing herself between him and the ground and holding him fast for a terrifying and precious breath.
“Impa!”
Though she knew she could not stand against him, Impa had thrown herself in his path without a thought, without a pause, only to protect the one to whom she was sworn.
“Really, Impa?” Ghirahim asked, still half-disbelieving as he tried to force his sword arm down through Impa’s iron-hard grip and well-braced pose and met her unyielding resistance. “Yes, I know you. I’d recognise the traces of your meddling spirit anywhere. But at last, you’re fool enough to come face to face with me!”
Without her training at the Knight Academy, a mere week and a lifetime ago, Zelda wouldn’t even have seen what happened as Ghirahim spoke, a blur of motion between the two combatants which ended with Impa staggering back, one arm badly wounded.
“Your Radiance, quickly, to the Gate!” she cried, and Zelda knew she would fight to the last.
“No!”
It was a refusal as utter as any she had ever felt, freed of the bonds of both divinity and time, and she would not allow her allies, her friends, her people to be harmed while she had the power to prevent it! Half by instinct and half by design, she threw a shield between them, a wall of translucent shimmering gold that barred Ghirahim’s way utterly. He hacked at it wildly, frustrated at yet again being denied his prey, and as he did Zelda’s thoughts raced. Impa was right: she had to get to the Gate and get away. She still wasn’t ready, Link still wasn’t ready, and while she might be able to hold Ghirahim off, she couldn’t get away from him without finding a way to go somewhere that he couldn’t follow. His power had grown and changed since a thousand years before, and it worried her even as it gave her hope.
We’re none of us what we were any more.
Zelda darted sideways, bringing Link into her direct line of sight, only just recovered from having run into Ghirahim’s own barrier. She had already imbued the harp with some of her own power; if she gave it more, then gave it to him, might it be enough? If she couldn’t be beside him, then perhaps she could give him the key he would need. Even as she thought it she was moving, every second precious and spilling through her fingers, the dangers of a future unforeseen and unknown pressing around her.
“Link,” she shouted across the dry riverbed, “take this! You’ll need it if I’m not with you!”
Link looked at her as if about to protest, about to shout to her, but she crushed love and guilt into the back of her mind, holding out the harp and pouring her power into it and through it, reaching out to him across a ravine that was no distance at all. She felt him in her light, as once she as Hylia would have laid a benediction upon her devoted, and in her light she passed the harp to him.
Link’s expression of surprise as it coalesced into his hand and her light faded made her want to smile and weep at the same time, but there was no time for either. She felt his eyes shift from her as she turned away, dashing to the majestically turning Gate of Time and touching her hand to it, letting it slide past beneath her fingers, at once smooth and solid and yet an infinite depth beneath her touch, as if what she touched was not an object at all, but only the memory of a door being closed when even now it stood wide open. Still holding her fraying shield with as much power as she could spare, she focused her awareness onto, into, throughout the Gate, desperately trying to encompass it all, not knowing if she even could. Impa ran to her side, snatching up her pack and Para on the way, blood trickling down her arm and her stern face tight with pain, yet her eyes fierce with determination and devotion.
“Your Radiance?” she murmured, almost inaudible above the crashing of Ghirahim’s sword against the shield Zelda could not spare the attention to reinforce.
“It’s open,” Zelda mumbled back, not even enough attention to spare to think about the words she was saying. “I have… the harmony. I…”
There was only one way to escape, only one way to yet again draw Ghirahim away and prevent him from following her… and from killing her best friend, shattering her still unready sword. She couldn’t take Link with her, not and keep Ghirahim from following them both, bringing the same deadly danger into the past with her. She couldn’t leave him simply to face Ghirahim: the demon blade would fall on him in bloody fury. But she and Ghirahim had looked into one another, and she had seen the streak of sharp calculation, a thousand years of delayed gratification – and so she turned, taking everything in her hands for one more desperate chance, Para balanced awkwardly on Impa’s shoulder beside her.
“Mistress?”
Zelda delved into the pack Impa was holding for the keepsake Para had kept safe for a thousand years, not as instinctive to reach for as the harp had been, but uniquely, perfectly tuned to interact with all that the Cycle was and had been. Ghirahim screamed a curse in the language of a long-dead people even as she did, as the wall of evil he had raised against Link tore before the sword Hylia and Saina had made, and she felt him focus every drop of his power into a blow that splintered her own ragged shield apart. Zelda gasped as the shock reverberated through her, but instead of following through Ghirahim leapt back as Link struck him from behind! The two faced one another, Link with his back to Zelda, Ghirahim poised and watching them both.
“Link!” she cried. He didn’t look around, but she knew he had heard. “Link, tell the Sheikah what happened! They’ll know what to do!” Her voice caught, almost breaking, as yet again she pushed him away, forcing him down a dangerous path alone, his only instructions so vague that Ghirahim would have to follow him to follow them – and thereby let him live. “I promise I’ll see you again, Link!”
Saina’s now-ancient keepsake in her hand, she raised it to her lips and blew, instinctively modulating the notes to match the Gate still turning behind her. With a nudge of her elbow she motioned Impa backwards, into the Gate, stepping back herself in time with her. The dissonance in her notes grew, reverberating in her bones, in her soul, in time itself, and where once so long ago that same simple instrument had jarred one single soul loose from the perfect clockwork of the Cycle, now it disrupted the very synchrony of the Gate of Time itself.
For an instant all her life was one and none; for an instant she fell without moving, the rippled surface receding at an impossible pace, only her touch on Impa and Para anchoring them to her. She fell, and was not falling; she played, yet no moments passed that she did so in. She felt the force of it, tumbling through rapids over shattering rocks, turbulence and dissonance, and – echoing from the depths of time itself – a pained and silent scream.
And then there was light, all at once: a great flare of it, blinding, and a jolt of sensation sudden and sharp as the step she had never completed found ground after all, and she and Impa and Para were staggering before the Gate in a world of rich-scented air, of pure white stone and a rushing river and subtle birdsong and distant, whirring sound, and the stately, immutable heartbeat of the turning Gate of Time.
Para’s head tilted as Zelda gasped, doubled over, something still washing over her as if a tidal wave had swept through her body and left her stranded ashore.
“Mistress, I detect full-spectrum signals!” The scratchy tone of excitement modulated into one of alarm. “The number of distress signals is increasing exponentially!” Another head tilt, a single moment’s analysing pause. “All the distress signals are automated, Mistress. There was active communication in the instant we arrived, but I am no longer receiving any. I don’t understand what’s happening!”
Zelda’s legs gave out as she understood, dropping to her knees, every word a blow to her heart.
“No… Oh, no…”
Notes:
I have been waiting for this! Here we go!
Patch Notes
- Zelda no longer just leaves Link to somehow-not-die.
- Ghirahim given actual reason to depart without a fight.
- Impa no longer carries random glowing explosives designed to destroy incredibly powerful holy artefacts.
- Effects of breaking powerful artefact still significant.
Chapter 53: A Broken Cycle
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Mistress?”
Zelda didn’t respond, sobbing into her hands.
“Impa, please lower me nearer to the ground immediately!”
Impa did as she was bid, kneeling to allow Parasova to jump from her shoulder, landing in a whirr of stiff joints and the clack of composite on stone. The cat-like little machine limped rapidly around in front of Zelda despite her uneven gait, looking up at her.
“Your Radiance…?” Impa, too, was at a loss. Para’s head turned slightly, her eyes refocusing briefly on the tall Sheikah.
“I will take care of Mistress Zelda. You should bind your arm; I shouldn’t need to ensure that you take care of yourself!”
A momentary smile flickered through Impa’s concerned, pained expression as she nodded, looking around once for danger before placing her pack on the stone floor, even going so far as to peer around the Gate of Time for any hidden threat before settling down. Para’s attention flicked back to Zelda as she did: the young Sheikah woman was as dedicated as all her kin, but they did need reminding of the oddest things sometimes.
“Mistress?” she repeated quizzically, shading her static-laced voice with tones that indicated concern.
“Oh, Para, I-” Zelda broke off for another couple of sobs, shaking her slim frame. “The Cycle, we… we-we broke it after all, Para…”
“Nonsense!” Para replied indignantly, pressing a forepaw against her mistress’ leg with a faint grinding noise from its wrist joint. “I performed every calculation necessary. There was minimal effect on the Cycle, as evidenced by the development of the later-model robots in future iterations!”
“N-no, not then…” Zelda took a deep breath through shaking hands. “Now. We… I destroyed the Gate of Time, a-and… The signals, Para, they stopped because of the- the t-temporal shockwave, I- All the Timeshift Stone, it…”
Para tilted her head with a click. “You mean this is the date of the catastrophic shutdown of the robots, and the end of the Cycle, Mistress?”
Zelda nodded, rapid and shaky. “We’re forty years in. I- I know it. That’s why the train cores were tuned to this time, that’s why- why everything just s-stopped.” She shuddered. “From the moment we left… we always must have come back here. I-it must be a stable- stable causal chain.” She scrubbed tear-wet hands across her face, looking at Para briefly before burying her head in her hands again. “I felt the shockwave, Para.” A single, final sob escaped her. “I ended it all…”
Despite her thousand-year age, even Parasova was temporarily silenced.
“Well!” she declared after a few moments. “I don’t think that could have been predicted! Even the robots of the final Cycle can’t have had a computer with that level of predictive power!”
“I think the Goddess of Time knew,” Zelda whispered softly. “I think she always knew.”
The wayward one has chosen and will have. The design ever breaks, though it draws near. Will shall always seek to find a way, against even time itself. The thoughts she had felt as Hylia now had a bitter ring, a depth of meaning the goddess could never then have seen.
“She certainly ought to, Mistress,” Para retorted unexpectedly. “It is her divine domain.”
Zelda sniffed, lowering her hands from her face at last. “I suppose. I… I felt her again, when we went through the Gate of Time. Just like before… or if before were just an echo. I felt her scream.” She swallowed. “Why didn’t she stop me?” She knew well that the great goddess’ very nature meant that she could not directly interfere, but there must have been countless points within the Cycle that the subtlest of pressures, a mere fragment of a thought, could have changed things.
“Surely, Your Radiance, it is simply that some things must be?” Impa spoke softly as always, having walked up to Zelda and knelt beside her silent as a shadow. “They must be, and so they shall. Such is your destiny, is it not?”
“I wrote my…” Zelda trailed off, thinking back. Then, so long before, she had reached forth into the might-be and etched a bond, and a pattern. She had written a destiny that became her own, and in so doing she had spoken with the Goddess of Time for the last time.
You choose and shall choose, and so it shall be.
I shall neither help nor hinder more than in the giving my gifts will and have.
Time could have flowed countless ways, and yet it had brought her here, kneeling before a wondrous portal which she already would have destroyed. The causal chain was stable, and yet if she knew what it was she would know how to deviate from it. She was perfectly placed to tell herself, three hundred or so years before it had all begun. Perfectly placed to change the script: to find Reach, perhaps, and reactivate him centuries early, or…
Zelda pressed her hands to the sides of her head as her thoughts began to spin, a strange kind of pain pressing on her mind, on her awareness. Time eddied around her, an ever-shifting landscape she felt without seeing, shadowed and indistinct yet wide as the clouded, bounded sky. All she had to do was reach out and touch it, consequences spilling out in all directions beyond hope of following, no point fixed even at her own feet. She felt a dizzying spiral, fractured and strange; she remembered a dream and wondered whether it had been a dream at all.
“Mistress?”
Zelda gasped, dragging her awareness back into herself, her melded mortal soul. Temporal flux theory, they’d called it in the Cycle: the idea that causality need not only flow one way. That all that had been was as it was because of the consequences of where she was and would have been…
If that were so, then changing the future past, and all that she was and had been, would be as simple as reaching out and touching it. The causal chain would become unstable, and collapse, and ever become never so that Saina might never have existed at all, and all things would have always taken another shape in the wildness of the might-be.
But you’ve what you need, if need it must be.
The Goddess of Time had given her the Gate, a precious gift from the apex of her Cycle, even though the stable causal chain would lead her to destroy it. She had let a mortal soul escape and break the Cycle, and she had, once, been gracious enough to show Hylia something of her perception in fondness and sorrow, though she knew the younger goddess would not fully see. She had warned her in warnings that held more truth than Hylia knew, and at the last she had wished her well, so that it had seemed as if perhaps the greater goddess smiled and yet was sad. How could she not have been, when she had known all that yet would already have followed from that choice? From the very gift – gifts? – that she had given?
Take as then my gift to you, and what is of mine use well. Choices the fallen ones make also, but aid their aims I need not, where yours I might.
“Mistress Zelda!” Parasova snapped, rapping her leg sharply with the same creaking forepaw.
“Para! I’m sorry.” Zelda tried to wipe tears from her face with still-damp hands, already drying to stickiness. “I was… I think… I remember… I mean, I-” She took a deep breath, trying to forcibly calm herself, still all the guilt and regret and sorrow. “We… we shouldn’t stay here long. The causal chain is stable for now.” And I trust her.
I think.
“The longer we stay here, the more we- we risk breaking it.”
“That’s very sensible,” Para declared. “Temporal instability is not something about which I require data!”
Zelda gave her a momentary weak, watery smile. “We’ll go back – or forward – to not long after the event, just like we planned. I think that will still be stable. I just… have to attune the Gate…” She glanced over her shoulder at it and almost wished she hadn’t, all its grandeur sweeping slow and stately past her, and she felt for a moment that in its turning she could see the entire Cycle in its countless iterations, all shattered by her hand.
“You should rest first, Mistress. Your emotional state is not conducive to proper focus, and besides, you look very tired.”
Beside her, Impa nodded in quiet, concerned agreement. “This area is both safe and defensible, and the weather is mild. You have done a great deal today, Your Radiance, and you are mortal. The sacred one is right that you should rest.”
“I don’t know if I can…” And yet, even as she said the words, she almost didn’t know if she couldn’t. It was so much, too much, and part of her just wanted to lie down beneath it until she slept and it all went away.
“The fourth thing one must know is to sleep whenever the opportunity comes, for it may not come again,” Impa murmured softly, the words well-worn in her quiet voice. “I will set up our camp behind the Gate of Time. We shall not be seen there, save from above or beside, and I will conceal us from sight also.” She stood once more, offering Zelda her uninjured hand. “Some things are as they must be, Your Radiance… this the Sheikah know.”
Zelda grasped Impa’s hand, the taller woman lifting her to her feet with a strength that seemed almost effortless. She bent to pick up Parasova, cradling the little assistant in her arms, and let Impa lead her around the Gate of Time to the open space between it and the rear wall of the open-air temple.
They were both right: she did have to rest. If only she could believe it would make the weight of all she’d done easier to bear…
Notes:
That was a heck of a chapter to write. Turns out blowing up the Gate of Time maybe isn't something you can just do without consequences, here... and then we get into all the other temporal stuff!
Sorry for the delay! I'm still pretty busy, but I have slightly fewer things going on simultaneously now, so here's hoping this is the start of more regular weekly updates again!
Patch Notes
- Consequences remain important. In a variety of directions.
- Causality considered.
Chapter 54: Impa
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Impa watched respectfully as her charge, her goddess, her sworn liege, stood before the Gate of Time in the soft midday sun, playing a slow and stately melody that seemed more powerful and resonant than the small instrument she held could possibly produce. Sacred Parasova sat in front of her, the age-flecked screen on the back of her head folded open, showing images and numbers Impa did not have the knowledge to understand. Such was the domain of the goddess, who had given her all, even her very divinity, for the people she loved and who had sworn their fates to her: though a part of Impa was curious, it would have felt almost like sacrilege to be able to understand and read the symbols the sacred one had produced for her mistress’ guidance.
She turned, slowly, surveying the area. As Her Radiance had stated the day before, the mechanical people who had once lived here seemed to be dead. No-one had come to worship at the temple, nor to investigate the strange happenings at it – and Impa did not believe that the robots could hide themselves from the all-seeing eyes of the Sheikah. That meant they were not there, and that in turn confirmed the goddess’ words. They were dead.
Her sharp eyes scanned across clean-swept white flagstones, and beyond them to the rushing river, shimmering blue beneath the bright blue sky above. Its banks, too, were carven stone, and the bridge across it ornate in its simplicity. The square archway at its far end was intact, not crumbled as it had been in the time from which they had come, and beyond it she could see an intricate mixture of lush, flower-flecked grass, low and elegantly trimmed bushes, stone-flagged paths, and rails like those upon which she and the goddess had travelled to reach this place. Impa had never before seen such a sculpted, tamed landscape: the Sheikah lived on the move, knowing the vast forests, the rivers and mountains, intimately, but leaving no impression upon them. They could not afford to: Ghirahim and his monstrous forces hunted them, and any obvious sign of habitation would draw a slavering horde the moment it was discovered. Had the old city looked like this, before it was destroyed and the forest drew its remains into its concealing embrace? Had a strange, tame landscape like this one been another gift of the goddess to her beloved people, before the demons had fallen upon them all?
Turning and looking at the goddess reborn before her, hearing the magic in her music resonate with time itself, Impa could believe it. It seemed like something she might wish for, her youthful face kind and caring without the faintest sign she had ever known want, her manner and her reactions subtly telling Impa over and over that the world Impa had grown up knowing, hard and harsh and deadly, was not the world as it should have been.
Impa could not imagine a kinder world. She had seen death, and had risked it herself time and again. She had killed in battle and she had killed in silence and in stealth, pre-emptively. She had granted her own kin the last mercy, denying the demon lord the sacrifice he would have made of them. Midway through the third decade of her life, Impa knew how to be efficient, ruthless, and deadly, and to keep all love and care for the shadows and the silence, for only there could such softer things ever be safe. She could imagine flying more easily than she could imagine a world in which the next day of her life was not bought with bloody blade.
And yet, when she looked at Zelda, at the goddess who had sacrificed her all and been reborn a mortal to save those she loved, she could almost feel it, a whisper of a wish, a promise of a future fainter than a dream. Only someone like this could bring forth such a world, and once again Impa silently repeated her vows, strengthened rather than weakened by the mortal goddess with all her fears and tears, all her love and all her care. She had always been sworn to serve the goddess, a distant abstract, a shared memory, an idea and an ideal – but now that the young woman was there before her, all that Impa had once thought of as devotion paled into insignificance against the fierceness of her new feelings. She would fight for her, and die for her – and gladly, even joyously, if her very death bought just one more breath for her goddess, her Zelda.
Impa turned again, her quick glance flitting across the landscape. Nothing had changed, save the occasional bird flying overhead, or insects darting across the rippling water of the river. The steps from which Link had come remained empty, descending into shadow.
Soft-shod feet silent on the stone, Impa began to walk a quiet patrol, guided and reassured by the melody playing behind her and the power she could feel in it, by the presence of her goddess and her promise of a future.
* * *
Impa sensed it moments before she heard it: the hours-long melody finally drawing to a close. Casting one last glance across the still, peaceful landscape, she leapt down from the wall, landing in an easy crouch to soften the impact, and jogged back across the bridge to where her goddess stood. Zelda was only just turning to look for her when she arrived, and seemed surprised to see her already only a few paces away.
“Impa?”
“Yes, Your Radiance?”
“I’ve finished attuning the Gate. We… we can go through now.” Her sky-blue eyes flicked up and down, troubled and sad, halting for several moments on the bandage wrapped neatly around Impa’s upper arm. “But, first, I… think I can heal your arm. Will you let me try?”
Impa blinked, surprised. “...Of course, Your Radiance.” Two impulses warred within her: the first and strongest to accept, for every moment she spent in less than perfect condition was another moment in which the risk of her death, and worse, her charge’s death, was higher than it might be; the second to demur, to not ask kind, radiant Zelda to expend more effort on healing one of her servants when she had a far greater task before her.
Zelda smiled, sadly and almost gratefully, and stepped to the side to undo the bandage, her fingers deft and quick. Impa watched her, betraying no pain in expression nor motion, but the look on Zelda’s face as she studied the wound beneath almost made her wish she hadn’t let her see, wish that she could wrap a protective shroud around the goddess so that she might never again be saddened by hardship and pain.
“I’m so sorry… I should have been faster to protect us.”
“You need never apologise to me, Your Radiance,” Impa replied, her low, quiet voice utterly firm: half a statement, half a promise. “It is the greatest honour of my life to be one who serves you now. I would do the same again a thousand times, and gladly; if I must give my life for you, I would do so happily.”
“Let us both hope that you do not have to,” Zelda murmured, her expression still sad, weighted down with all a goddess’ cares. As Impa nodded, she lifted the little blue instrument back to her lips and began to play once more. Less stately, more vital than the previous melody, at once soft and soothing yet with an undercurrent of strength, Impa felt it brush against her like the faintest kiss of a cool breeze; felt it slowly strengthen in her like the warmth of the sun. Pain she had been keeping firmly banished to a corner of her mind began to slowly fade, her skin crawling slightly as flesh knitted back together under the unseen command of the goddess’ music, and the feeling of her goddess’ divine power employed merely to aid her almost brought tears to her eyes.
Zelda looked hopeful and anxious as she let the music fade, and Impa slowly raised her left hand, flexing it, clenching it into a fist; moved on to her elbow and shoulder, testing her range of motion: painlessly normal, feeling as strong as she ever had. The smile of relief and happiness that crossed Zelda’s face was, despite the sorrow that overshadowed it, something that Impa would have killed to see if that was what it took. Overcome, she bowed deeply to her.
“Thank you, Your Radiance.”
Notes:
Time for a little time with Impa! Another short chapter, perhaps, but, as long promised, work is finally quiet again and you will be seeing a lot more of me.
No patch notes this time, unless something about Impa's devotion to her incarnated deity counts, and I don't think we really see enough of that to know if I would have needed to patch anything or not.
Chapter 55: A Cloud on the Wind
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Awakening the morning after losing Zelda to the Gate of Time, Link had hurried back to the levitrain and ridden it back to the silent, dead city of Cronellon, where he’d refilled his water and hastened towards the mines, heeding Fi’s warning and his own concerns about asking his loftwing to fly for too long in the desert heat. He’d needed to sleep once during the journey, finding a sheltered room in a half-crumbled building on the edge of Cronellon and barricading himself inside, continuing on as soon as he woke.
Finally leaving the mine to see the giant statue he’d landed on – which he now recognised, seeing it again, as one of a robot much like Bead – Link saw with relief the two statues flanking it, their wings spread just as Link’s own loftwing’s might be even now, circling above. So very dimly, at the back of his mind, he could feel a distant fear-and-worry and nothing more. In all Link’s life, since the moment his bird had come to him, they had never been apart so long: even when he was ill the red loftwing would appear at the window, squawking loudly and insistently, tipping his head this way and that to see Link through the small glass panes – and however bad he felt, Link had always forced himself to stand, to walk the few short paces to the window and open it to let the bird poke his head inside to be held, the contact soothing boy and bird alike.
“I’m coming,” he whispered softly, walking to the leftward statue and kneeling before it. It was no effort at all to fling his call wide, caught up and amplified by its power, strengthening his link to the loyal, brave bird circling high above. At once a sense of inexpressible relief flooded through him, the red loftwing diving with a cry, arrowing down with the wind almost a solid thing against his extended head, his back-swept wings. Link looked up as his loftwing swept down, pulling up only at the very last minute to swoop overhead with a speed that sent sand skittering away from his path, the buffeting gust forcing Link to shut his eyes against the sand. The loftwing swooped in a circle once, shedding speed, then made a landing almost awkward in its hastiness.
Link ran to him before his wings were even folded, throwing reassuring arms about the bird’s long neck. The sense of relief and joy he felt, the tension of days of worry finally melting away, was beyond description.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d have to leave you this long. It’s all right now. It’s all right…”
The red loftwing cooed, a gentle sound at the back of his throat, head folded over Link’s shoulder with the great beak just touching his back. He could feel the other query beginning to fade through the euphoria, and sighed, and moments later felt the loftwing all but sigh too in shared understanding. They still hadn’t rescued their lost flockmate.
“We’ll find her,” Link said aloud. “She told me to talk to the Sheikah. They have to know something…”
Sensing the first stirrings of unease at being on the ground, Link released his bird, running a hand through his bright plumage as he walked around and clambered onto his back. It felt such a simple, natural move after all the long days of walking, just himself and Fi alone in the desert. Bracing themselves together, Link and his loftwing tensed, ran, and leapt into the sky, beating strongly up and away towards the floating island they called home.
* * *
By the time they reached Skyloft, it was well past noon, the sun slipping down from its zenith and inexorably towards night. Landing on one of the Academy platforms, Link dismounted quickly and hurried inside, silently grateful for the lessons he could hear fragments of drifting out from the classrooms.
“...tall, bluish-black cloud sighted to the northwest at a distance…”
“...multiplied by two point four eight…”
“...nature of the text is that…”
He clambered up the central staircase, and braced himself before knocking on the door to the headmaster’s office. The response was immediate, and almost tense.
“Come in?”
Link opened the door and stepped inside, Headmaster Gaepora leaning forward over the top of the desk to peer at his visitor. Seeing Link, he got to his feet with quill still in hand, knocking a sheet of paper awry.
“Link!” Clear relief showed in his face and voice. “Thank the goddess you’re safe! Are you hurt? And Zelda…?”
Link shook his head, confirming what the headmaster had already guessed when he began to shut the door behind himself. “I found her again, Headmaster, but…” He struggled for words. How could he explain what had happened, the incredible thing that he had seen Zelda destroy? How could he explain that she was, as far as Fi could tell, somewhere in the distant past? How could he even explain the days of travel across the arid desert, land without an end; or the corpse of poor Bead; or the vast mechanical building that had risen from beneath the sand?
“But?” Headmaster Gaepora asked anxiously, rounding the desk to approach him.
“She… she gave me her harp, and promised I’d see her again, and…” The look on the headmaster’s face forced Link to keep talking, unbelievable as he knew it had to sound. “She was at the Gate of Time like she said, and I found it, but she… She went through it, and she broke it, we think so Ghirahim couldn’t go after her. Fi says she should be safe, but she’s… in the past now. Fi says the Gate let her go back in time, but she didn’t know when to.”
Unprompted, Fi vaulted from the sword with a soft chime, perfect and expressionless, and a note of surprise and awe filtered into the headmaster’s worried, dismayed, even afraid expression. “I am able to confirm Master Link’s statement. The Gate of Time was constructed in honour of the Goddess of Time, and permitted travel to any other moment in time in which it existed. I was unable to determine the time to which it was attuned when it was broken. Despite the breaking of the Gate of Time in Lanayru Desert, there is an unknown probability that it will be possible to reunite with her. Her final instruction was to seek out the Sheikah and ask for their assistance.”
“The old lady at the temple I went to first is a Sheikah.” Link added. “I’m going to go back there first thing… after I’ve resupplied.”
Gaepora looked him over, eyes lingering on the bloodstains, the rips and scorchmarks marring his increasingly ragged uniform.
“That’s wise, Link,” he said quietly. “I cannot hide how much I want you to find her, but you will not succeed if you are not prepared. You have already faced more danger in these past nine days than I expect most of my students to in their lifetimes. I do not know why the goddess has chosen you for this fate, but if her trust is placed in you, then I can do no less.” His eyes slid briefly to Fi, and Link thought he saw an echo of pleading in the usually unflappable headmaster’s expression. “But if there is anything that we are able to do to aid you…?”
Link glanced to Fi, who watched, impassive.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “The surface is… Without Fi, I’d have got into a lot of trouble.” Images flashed through his mind of all the things she’d warned him about, all the things she’d told him of, confirmed were safe or explained how to deal with. “I don’t even know if the statues that let me call my loftwing will work for anyone else. Or what would happen if anyone else tried to follow me through the clouds. I think it’s just an opening, but…”
“Additionally,” Fi said, her voice quietly musical in the book-lined office, “greater numbers present upon the surface have a high probability of drawing demonic attention. Observations of the way of life that the Sheikah have adopted suggest that the danger to large groups that are unable to conceal their presence is sufficient to outweigh even exceptional martial training. Further observation of the demonic forces present on the surface confirms that the probability of increased numbers drawing an increased threat is almost 100%.”
“Yeah… that, too.” The thought of danger to the Sheikah left another hollow feeling in Link’s stomach. When he returned, would he learn that Davar was still alive… or dead? “I told you what – what happened on the volcano. I…” The worst of it was that he did want help. If he could have the fearless Knight Commander with him, at the head of a wing of fully trained and long since graduated Knights of Skyloft, able to guard and protect him… But he knew, just as Fi had said, that it was only a fantasy. Armed with her sword, he alone had the guidance each of them would need just to survive, and unlike the subtle Sheikah, they would be as obvious down there as a new island suddenly appearing would be in the sky. “…I wish it would help. I don’t want the two of us to have to do everything alone. But… Fi’s right, Headmaster. I don’t know what anyone else could do down there.”
Gaepora sighed. “I fear you are correct. Well… See Eagus for any new equipment or repairs… and I’ll ask Kakara for some extra changes of uniform. And, if you need to buy anything from the market, take this.” He fished around in his belt pouch before extracting a handful of rupees, at least one silver glinting amongst the reds. Link’s eyes widened, but the headmaster caught his hand and pressed them into it before he could do more than begin to shake his head. “No, don’t protest, just take them. Rupin flaps up enough of a fuss about the Academy’s account as it is; if you want anything from him, you’ll do better to have crystal in hand, never mind if you get up to the Airshop. Besides, you won’t waste them. Think of it as official funding for your mission.”
Link closed his fingers slowly, half reluctantly. The headmaster was right, of course. All the students knew about the standing arrangement the Academy had with some of the shops, and every now and again someone would get caught trying to claim their own purchases against it. Five or six years ago, Link had actually seen someone expelled over it. He’d have a hard time convincing anyone that he, as a student only just into the upper class, really had been given Academy permission.
I still owe the Lumpy Pumpkin… he thought guiltily, almost absurdly. It felt like a whole life and half the sky away.
“In fact,” Gaepora said, striding back to his desk, “let’s just make it official…” He looked ruefully at the quill he’d dropped onto the desk, ink splattered beneath it, and picked it up, dipping it quickly in the inkwell before scribbling quickly onto a fresh sheet of paper and signing at the bottom, signature all loops and whirls. “There,” he said, already crossing back to Link. “Go get Knight Commander Eagus to countersign this: it’s your official orders to expend that on equipping yourself for your mission as you see fit.”
“…Yes, Headmaster,” Link said slightly numbly, accepting the sheet of still-wet paper with his free hand and passing it to the other, further hiding the handful of rupees with it. “Er… now?”
“Yes, I think that’s best,” the headmaster replied. “I’d like to hear your report, but… perhaps it would be best if you write it up. At least the key points.”
Relieved, Link nodded sharply. “Of course, Headmaster.” He hesitated. “When I saw Zelda…”
“Yes?”
“She gave me her harp – the one from the Wing Ceremony, I mean. She said I’d need it if she wasn’t with me. Fi says it’s been imbued with the goddess’ power.” Link struggled to swing the strap over his head with his free hand, got it stuck on his shield, and grimaced as the taller man reached over his shoulders with a kind of desperate care, unhooking it easily and cradling the harp in his arms. Link stepped back a pace, allowing him to. It was the closest either of them could get to Zelda, and he’d sat up with it in his lap when he made camp in his journey back through the desert.
“Zelda…” murmured Gaepora, and Link flinched inwardly. He couldn’t even imagine how much harder it had to be for her father, able only to stay on Skyloft and wait anxiously for news like a nesting loftwing bound to its eggs.
“I can come back…” he ventured.
Gaepora took a deep breath, and Link could hear the heaviness in his voice. “No… no, Link, if she said you will need this, then I must be sure that you keep it.” He paused for a moment, reluctant to relinquish it. “She didn’t give you its storage pouch, so… let me think. Yes – the case for the one she had when she was younger should still be in storage.” Turning back to his desk, he set the harp gently down on it, the faintest shiver of sound struck from the strings as he did. Moments later he was stepping around, sitting back in his seat, looking in the drawers for something. “Hmm… no, here – I have it.”
Link watched as the headmaster wrote another, hastier note, once again finished with his familiar looping signature, then folded it around something small and flat. He stood once more, offering this new token to Link.
“This is… is Zelda’s storage token at the Baggage Check, and a note asking young Peatrice to fetch you Zelda’s old harp. In the circumstances… well, even if she does mind, if it would only bring her back here to berate me herself I will be content. Bring me Zelda’s old harp, I’ll set that one up in its case, and… well, perhaps I will keep the old harp out. Until you and she have completed this destiny that the goddess has set before you…”
His eyes flickered to Fi, just for a heartbeat, but she said nothing.
“… and you both come home.”
The uncertainty of the headmaster’s hope struck a chord with Link’s own, wavering as it was. Every time they reached for Zelda she receded, like the promise of an island ahead that was only in truth a cloud driven on the same wind they rode.
“We’ll do it, Headmaster,” he said quietly, the words as much or more a promise to himself.
“Yes… I have faith that you will.”
Notes:
Ughhh, I said I was back and I am, but I have been fighting this blasted chapter! I didn't know who to write it about, then it refused to get started, then I had to backtrack and triple-check events of earlier chapters... Anyway, here we are, and maybe soon we will see some more of the people of Skyloft. Peatrice is up soon – I mostly just find her in-game slightly annoying (what do you mean literally the only way not to date this woman is to either be outright rude to her or never use one of the game's actual mechanics and be unable to complete the Batreaux quest?), but based on everything she says, I'm kind of fond of the version I've extrapolated. So I'm looking forward to that.
The big thing I'm looking forward to in the long-term, though (other than various Zelda bits and pieces), is the part where Eldin Volcano erupts literally while we're descending on it. Poor Fi is going to have an interesting (to the author/reader, anyway!) time on her own, given all the events we've already established…
Patch Notes
- Loftwings remain important, emotionally, socially, and culturally.
- Headmaster continues to actually worry about, I don't know, his daughter and also her best friend trying to find her, especially after he vanishes for multiple days.
- Headmaster reacts to each surface event instead of only rarely.
Chapter 56: Gifts and Receipts
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Leaving Headmaster Gaepora’s office, Link had hurried across to the training hall only to hear the sounds of a lesson enthusiastically in progress inside. Not wanting to interrupt the class, and wanting to avoid facing his fellow students’ questions for as long as he could, he’d turned back to the Academy proper to slip into the thankfully deserted baths, picking up his spare boots from his room and his other uniform, mended, from the foot of his bed on the way. In the four days he’d been away, Academy life seemed to have returned to something at least somewhat closer to normal, at least in that there were fewer students wandering the halls during class hours.
The bath had seemed a lot more luxurious after days in the parched desert. It had always before been normal, remarkable only in its size and in the awkwardness of the number of students who had to use it at once. Now that he had spent days walking through a place where it would have been utterly impossible, Link wasn’t sure he would ever quite think of it as normal again. Even so, he had tried to hurry, scrubbing himself clean without relaxing too much, nor dwelling on the faint, pale scars that the healing elixirs had left him with.
Dressed again and feeling slightly guilty at leaving his ruined uniform to the laundry, whatever the Headmaster had said, Link had carried his damaged chainmail and ruined boots back down to the lower floor and out towards the training hall. Hearing the class still in session inside, he’d hesitated before opening the door quietly and edging in. The training hall was built up to the very edge of the island in places, and there was no way to reach the back door short of climbing around. Absorbed in their sparring lesson, most of the students hadn’t noticed him at first, but one or two became a wave of distraction that rippled around the hall until the Knight Commander shouted for them to cease and Link froze, halfway along the side wall, embarrassment and discomfort heating his face. Knight Commander Eagus had gestured for him to continue with a wave of his hand, and as Link had ducked gratefully into the back room, he’d heard him begin lecturing the other students on paying attention to the fight they were in, rather than “something interesting happening over there”.
He’d let the words wash over him through the closed door, familiar from his own training and familiar again, sinking bone-deep, from the life-and-death battles he’d been thrust into. Never lose track of the foe; never become distracted – yet never, either, lose an awareness of the wider surroundings, lest danger strike while his focus was elsewhere. The chainmail, ruined in places with its links fused together, he’d set to one side for the Knight Commander’s inspection; the shield, mostly undamaged by his trek through the desert and fights with aracha, he’d looked over himself, checking the strapping, wiping it down.
The Knight Commander had come through before he was quite finished, giving an approving nod at the sight of Link maintaining his equipment. The approval had quickly become surprise and concern when Link had showed him the chainmail, and he’d signed off on Headmaster Gaepora’s orders without hesitation, instructing Link firmly to spend everything he was given if it would help. Link had left the training hall escorted by Knight Commander Eagus, the class not risking shooting him more than swift glances after the admonishment they’d received only a few minutes before. Escaping into the mid-afternoon sun, he’d headed around to the recovery pens, hoping to check up on both Orielle and Zelda’s bird.
Orielle was singing quietly as Link stepped around the corner, her loftwing perched nearby with wings folded a little loosely. A warm feeling of relief flooded through him: Karane had brought the airlift team, and Orielle and her loftwing, at least, were safely home.
“Orielle?”
She stopped singing, half-turning, a warm smile lighting up her face.
“Link! I saw your loftwing fly over, so I knew you were back.” She walked towards him as she spoke, still smiling. “I’m so glad to see you safely home as well. If it hadn’t been for you and Karane, I don’t know how long we would have been stuck on that little island… My bird and I are both so grateful! We really owe you our thanks!”
Link smiled, the weight of everything feeling a little lighter as Orielle stopped in front of him, her expression one of gratitude mingled with a tinge of relief. “Is she all right now?”
Orielle nodded. “She should still rest her wing for a while, so we won’t be taking any long flights for the next few weeks, but she’s a lot better, aren’t you, dear?”
The brown loftwing turned her head towards them with a soft squawk and a head bob, an unmistakeable affirmative.
“In fact, we were both worried about you. It’s been days, and…” Orielle glanced back the way she had come, towards the pen her own bird was stood beside.
“Zelda’s bird?” Link asked quickly, worried.
“She’s doing worse,” Orielle confirmed unhappily. “She’s stopped even trying to look for her. Now… she just sits.”
Pity and guilt caught at the back of Link’s throat. She can’t feel her at all any more, can she? Zelda might have been alive, but wherever – whenever – she was, it was long before her loftwing had even been hatched. As far as her poor bird was concerned, she would effectively be dead.
“Zelda’s okay,” he said, “I promise, but she’s… She’s gone even further away.” How could he tell her loftwing that? How could he tell the poor bird that the vanished half of her soul truly was gone, but not for good? Link wasn’t sure even his own loftwing would entirely understand it, though they knew one another’s thoughts, and the birds didn’t really fully understand language on their own. “I… I don’t think she’ll be able to feel her at all, even a little, until she gets back.”
Would it work at all, even then? No-one had ever broken the bond between a bird and her rider without one of them dying. If Zelda came back, could it be restored? Or was her sweet, smart, loyal companion doomed to have lost her forever? Would Zelda ever be complete again, or would she and her loftwing be ghosts to one another, strangers in familiar plumage? Then and there, Link resolved he wouldn’t let it come to that. He’d go anywhere, do anything, ask Great Spirit Levias or even find a way to plead their case to the goddess herself.
Orielle breathed out beside him in a soft sigh. “That’s a relief to hear, at least.” She didn’t doubt him. “I only wish we could tell her poor bird that. I suppose Parrow and I will just have to keep up her strength as best we can until Zelda returns.” A pause, hesitant. “The Headmaster and Mayor Herrene told us a lot about what you’ve been doing…”
Link waited, not knowing what to say.
“It sounds so strange… and dangerous.” She seemed to search for words, only to give up. “Just take care of yourselves, you and your bird – and Zelda. We’ll be right here if you need us.”
A faint, grateful smile touched Link’s face briefly. “Thanks, Orielle.”
“In fact, I think… You’ve been buying elixirs from the market, haven’t you?” Link nodded, and Orielle went on firmly. “Well, apart from Zelda’s poor bird, we don’t have many patients right now. So, let me loan you one of our medicine bottles. It’s only fair after everything you did for me, and everything you’re doing out there!”
Link wanted to protest, but at the same time, he was too desperately grateful for the offer to refuse. Glass was in short supply on Skyloft, or indeed anywhere in the sky: it could be melted down and remade into new shapes, but there was no way to make more, and any shards that were lost could never be replaced. Everything from bottles to the multicoloured panes in windows had been remade and reused countless times, and he hadn’t expected to get his hands on more than the two he’d been given. He watched as Orielle fetched an empty bottle from a shelf in a tiny shed between two pens, washed and clean and presumably awaiting whatever medication she would have put in it.
“Thanks,” he repeated inadequately as Orielle pressed the bottle into his hands.
“You’re very welcome, Link,” she said warmly. “Now, go on. You must have a lot to do… so go and find Zelda for my patient, all right?”
Link nodded. “I – I will. Clear skies, Orielle.”
“Goddess gift you fair winds, Link.”
Link turned and left, still holding the little bottle in his hands. He’d need somewhere safe to keep it, and that meant he’d definitely have to visit the Airshop… after he’d retrieved Zelda’s harp for her father, at any rate. Leaving the Knight Academy by the high road, he turned right on the bridges from the outcrop to cross to Skyloft proper. As soon as he was out of the Academy, he was just another student in the uniform of the most recent crop of upperclassmen. The island might know his loftwing on sight, with the red bird’s unique and striking colour, but few of them knew him… Link hoped.
The nearest entrance to the market was directly across the unimaginatively named Edge Street, bright canvas framing it from the gaily-patterned, if decidedly weathered, roof. Link entered at a quick walk, looking around: there was the fortune-teller’s tent-within-a-tent; there was Piper’s Kitchen, always at least a little busy however far they were from a mealtime. Across the wide central space was the broad counter of the Baggage Check, painted text proudly advertising its mission to keep safe the possessions of students, visitors, travellers, and anyone else who couldn’t fit everything they owned into wherever they were staying. Dodging around people with the ease of long practice, Link crossed to the counter… and waited.
The young woman about his own age sitting behind it had her head resting on one hand, and appeared to be asleep, her eyes closed. Her nose was a little long for an otherwise relatively delicately featured face, a large mole beside it. The most striking feature was her thick, honey-gold hair, falling from beneath a pale kerchief in a perfect fringe and, behind, a pair of sweeping tails. The last time Link had stopped by to get something, the year before, her father had been there, at least if this was Peatrice and not another young woman managing the shop.
For lack of anything better to do, he cleared his throat.
“Hm?” The young woman’s eyes opened the slightest of slits. “Oh… a customer. Hello, and welcome to Skyloft’s one and only Baggage Check. Have you come to drop something off…? Okay… we’ll take care of it until you return. Or do you need to get something out…? That’s fine too.”
The entire speech was delivered in a yawning monotone, slow and lazy and without any apparent interest whatsoever.
“I, uh, need to get something out, please.”
“Okay…” She lifted her head off her hand and languidly reached beneath the counter, hefting up a truly enormous record book. Link noted absently that, despite its size, while she did use two hands, she didn’t seem to particularly notice its weight. “Name…?”
“It’s not mine. That is, I… Headmaster Gaepora at the Knight Academy asked me to bring his daughter Zelda’s token down here and request her harp. He wrote a note.” Link proffered the note, still wrapped around the storage token, as the young woman’s eyes finally blinked into life.
“Zelda? The missing Zelda?”
Link nodded.
“Well then!” She unfolded the note; scanned it quickly; turned pages in the great book until she found what she was looking for. “That’s Zelda’s storage token, and that’s definitely the Headmaster’s signature. So this must be connected to the search for her? Or is poor Headmaster Gaepora just missing his beloved daughter? Either way, I’ll get that right out.”
Startled by the sudden change in her, Link said nothing as she scribbled something into the book and turned away, swishing through the oddly wide curtains behind the counter and hooking one of them aside. He could see a slice of a large, dimly-lit room beyond, more of a storehouse than anything, shelves stretching floor to ceiling and packed with boxes, trunks, and odd-shaped items wrapped in cloth. The young woman’s voice floated back out through the gap, punctuated by the sound of footsteps; wheels rolling; the clang of metal on metal.
“But if it is connected to the search for her, then this could be… Oh, I’m being silly! No-one so interesting would ever come here!”
What do you make of her, Fi? Link asked on a whim.
According to my analysis, the young woman you believe to be Peatrice has a significant intellectual capacity. However, my projections indicate that her job here provides minimal stimulation, resulting in extreme boredom. I do not detect any other individuals in this subdivision of the market, nor any other significant aura traces behind the counter, and conclude that there is a 97% probability that she will be here throughout the entire opening time of this business. High levels of boredom are predicted to be the reason for her initial attitude of extreme disinterest.
Working here does sound pretty dull, Link admitted, shortly before a series of scraping sounds and a sudden loud clunk caught his attention.
“Do you need a hand?” he called through.
“There won’t – what? Oh! No, it’s just the ladder.” There was something of a pause, no further noises emanating from the back. “Thank you for asking, though!”
The sound of rummaging followed, then a muted “aha!”, followed by footsteps on metal, then stone. Moments later, she reappeared, a small case held in her hands, letting the hooked-back curtain drop closed behind her.
“Here you go: the harp you asked for.” She made no move to hold it out to him, though, simply standing on the other side of the counter, dark eyes appraising. “Say… Before you go… You wouldn’t happen to be… Oh, no. That would be ridiculous.”
Despite his own natural inclinations, Link took pity on her. “I’m Link, Zelda’s classmate, if that’s what you’re asking?”
“You are?” She almost squealed. “And you’re actually out searching for her right now! That’s so… exciting!”
“Sort of…” Link hesitated. “And, uh, you’re Peatrice, right?”
To his relief, she nodded. “That’s me. I’m Peatrice… stuff-stacker extraordinaire.” She blew out a breath. “But really, all I do is watch dust settle on my counter.”
“It… does sound pretty boring here,” Link agreed
“You have no idea…” Peatrice shook her head. “Well… I won’t bother you, but… Maybe you could answer one question for me?”
“Okay,” Link said, somewhat uncertainly.
“I think that if there are creatures on the surface, they must not have any wings. Is that true?”
Link blinked. Whatever he might have expected her to ask, it certainly hadn’t been that. “A lot of them don’t, no. But there are birds, too. Mostly birds we don’t see up here. I guess they can’t fly through the cloud barrier.”
“So there are lots of kinds of creatures? And I heard there were even people…?”
How could anyone live under the clouds? Link knew that was what she had to be thinking. “There are some, yeah. Most of them seem to live a pretty hard life.”
Peatrice’s head dipped as she took that on board. “If they live under the clouds… They would never meet their loftwings, would they?”
Link shook his head. “They’d never even seen a loftwing.”
“That’s so sad…” She shook her head, and the distant, thoughtful look was replaced by a smile of gratitude that lit up her face. “Thank you for answering my questions, Link. I suppose I can’t really keep you any longer, but you’re the only really interesting customer I’ve seen since I started working here! If you want anything stored, or want anything out of storage, you know where to find us. I would keep any souvenirs you brought back very safe!” She finally held out the case, and Link saw it clearly at last: about the size of his fist, with a little picture of a harp embossed onto it together with the letter Z.
“Thank you very much, Peatrice.” Link took it from her, checking the back: there was a leather loop that should fit his belt and a smaller metal one likely intended for hanging it on a wall. “I’ll come back if I… find anything.”
Peatrice smiled wistfully. “Oh, don’t tease me. It’s not humane to tease someone this bored. Don’t forget Zelda’s token, either. Her father will need it back.”
“Oh, right.” Peatrice had left it atop the book, and Link reached out to take it, noting as he did that each of the two visible pages was stamped with a different design, one of which looked like the imprint of the token he had just picked up. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, see you later.”
“Yeah…” Peatrice closed the heavy book with a thump as Link turned away. Sharp ears trained by harsh experience to listen out for danger at all times caught one final murmur beneath the hubbub of the marketplace, one that he couldn’t possibly have been expected to hear. “I wish...”
Notes:
Late by only a day! I didn't quite get it finished yesterday, and even if I had, I probably wouldn't have had enough wakefulness left in me to actually sanity-check it.
I was looking at the word count on this thing the other day, and this fic alone is already around the same length as the actual book I wrote… That's kind of crazy!
Patch Notes
- Zelda’s loftwing continues to exist; reacts to Zelda’s near-nonexistence.
- Reason provided for potion bottles to be in highly limited supply.
- Peatrice given increased depth: now expands on her boredom; displays some sensitivity; provides plausible reasons to return to talk.
Oh yeah – by the way, for any readers who also write on here, I have a little userscript that improves the stats graph a whole bunch (and allows me to block google without losing the graph, which is what I wanted out of it, and then I figured I might as well make improvements.). If you're interested, you can check it out at GreasyFork: AO3 Regraph.
Chapter 57: A Ray of Light
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After his brief conversation with Peatrice, Link headed back across the marketplace to Luv and Bertie’s potion shop. The odd mixture of smells that wafted from it usually kept a small space in front of the counter clear, and today was no exception. Link tried hard not to sneeze as he approached: whatever Bertie was working on with the various burners and tubes in the far corner had an acrid overlay that seemed to make everything else just a little bit worse.
“Ah, Link! Welcome back! And still in one piece, I see, dearie – I hope our elixirs helped with that!”
“They did, thank you,” Link replied politely. Luv’s voice and personality matched her figure: forthright and almost larger than life. Even if she wasn’t, she always gave the impression of being the tallest person in any room, or in this case in the market.
“And what will you be needing today, dear? We’ve just brewed a new batch of our Second Wind potion: no matter how tired you feel, one drink and you’ll feel ready to take on the sky just like you did when you woke up in the morning! Or there’s the old Doctor’s Friend, of course: a staple if you’ll be getting into more danger.”
“Ahh…” Bertie spoke up from the back of the shop, shy and uncertain voice the polar opposite of his wife’s booming confidence. “Do be careful, though… not to drink too many too close together… you know…”
Link nodded. “I know. Thank you.” Not that I have much choice. I just have to hope I won’t get that badly hurt.
“And then there’s our more speciality potions,” Luv went on cheerfully. “If you’re looking for something a bit more specific. And if you know what you might want in advance, don’t forget you can always ask us if we can make it! My husband is the best in the sky at synthesising new potions!”
“Oh… ah… I wouldn’t go that far…” Bertie murmured. Their baby, strapped to his chest, chose that moment to let out an indignant wail, and he hastily bent to fussing over her.
“I’ll ask if I think of anything,” Link agreed politely. There wasn’t much he could think of: what he needed to do was stay alive through all the dangers the surface could throw at him, and unless they could invent an elixir which made him a better fighter – which seemed ridiculous – then there were only really one or two things worth buying. “This time, I’ll just have the same as before, please.” He hesitated. “And… I’ll take one of the Second Wind ones, as well.” The ability to keep on going when he should have been exhausted might prove very useful indeed.
Luv nodded, taking the bottles from him as he handed them to her one by one, deftly filling them, and setting them on the counter. Link counted out his money and held it out to her just as she stoppered the last one.
“Thank you, dear.” Luv’s practised eye flicked across the rupees, and she tucked them away, handing him back a pair of blues. “There! I’m sure our elixirs will take care of you. Come back whenever you need anything!”
Link nodded again, pocketing his precious purchases. “I will. Thank you.”
He raised a hand briefly in farewell as he set off again, circling around the market to the shoemakers’ shop. Ostrin greeted him cheerfully enough, recognising the Academy uniform rather than his face, and had already started suggesting a pair of boots for Link when he held up the cloth bag containing his damaged ones.
“Actually, I wanted to ask you to repair these?”
Ostrin took them out of the bag, eyes widening in shock as he turned them upside-down and saw the damage.
“What happened here, then, lad?”
“Er… electric shock.”
“You what, now?” Ostrin frowned, dredging up half-remembered lessons, stories, and possibly – Link suspected – complaints from Beedle. “Looks like you stepped on a coal. That bad, huh? Did it happen on the Airshop? That old thing is one good storm away from coming apart, I tell you. Well, I’ll get those resoled for you. Can’t say it won’t cost, can’t say it won’t, but we’ll do you a fair price, lad. You in a hurry? We’ll have it in the next two, three days if you’re not.”
“That’s fine, thanks.”
Ostrin quickly wrote a pair of notes, tying one to the boots and handing the other to Link. “Give that in in three days, that’s the ticket. Half now and half when you pick them up.”
Link read the price on the ticket and paid without complaint, conscious that he was spending the Knight Academy’s money; knowing that he needed to, knowing that both Headmaster and Knight Commander had signed the order instructing him to with nothing but encouragement. As he said his farewells and turned away, his eye caught on the small stall that was the interior face of Gondo’s smithy.
“Fi,” he murmured, softly enough that no-one in the busy market would notice, “did you want to take a look at the robot Gondo has?”
A closer inspection would serve to provide further information, Master.
It was as close as Link expected Fi would ever get to saying that she wanted – or didn’t want – something, and if nothing else, he was curious, and a little sad.
“Okay.”
Slipping through the market crowd, Link made his way across to the smith’s stall. Gondo was up at the stall itself, chatting to a pair of customers, and Link paused to wait for a good moment. It came soon enough, as Gondo noticed him and shot him a quizzical look.
“Hey, kid. What’s up? Something you need?”
“Hi, Gondo. I actually just wanted to look at your robot. Is that all right?”
Gondo sighed. “You’re not just gonna make fun of the crazy old junk guy, are you? Just because it’s a heap of junk now, doesn’t mean it might not have been able to move and talk like in the stories once! Everything wears down eventually. I know what you’re going to say, I’ve heard it all before, but my grandpa said-”
“That’s not it!” Link protested. “I believe you! I’ve seen one – I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help the one here!”
Gondo stared at him for a moment, nonplussed. “You… you actually believe the stories too? You’ve seen one?! You’ve really seen one?!”
Link nodded, slightly wishing he hadn’t blurted that out. “It’s a long story, but I have. They really are people… just like the stories say. I just thought, if I could look at the one you have here…”
“Well, go right ahead! You’re welcome any time!” Gondo pronounced, gesturing expansively into the smithy. “I tell you, though… he’s a bit of a mess. I’ve tried all I know how to do, and still nothing. So if you can help him…”
“I’ll do what I can. Thanks, Gondo.”
“Hey, thanks for believing me about the little guy. And you’ll tell me about what you saw, right?”
“All right,” Link said. “But later, okay?”
“Yeah, it’s nearly evening. But listen, you’re welcome any time! Any time at all, makes no difference to me!”
Link nodded with a quick smile, and Gondo opened the flap to let him past the counter, pointing him into the back room, where Link could see a set of parts that, since his time in the desert, he recognised instinctively as another robot much like Bead. He approached slowly, the back room – a storeroom between the smithy proper and the market stall – feeling dark and ominous.
“Here he is, Fi.” Link found himself whispering as he knelt beside the body, not sandblasted as the ones in the desert had been, but patched instead with metal plates that clearly had nothing to do with the original materials it had been made of. “What do you think?”
Analysing now, Fi replied silently. Master, I detect that this individual’s power core no longer functions. Extensive modifications have been made to the individual over multiple centuries. A significant degree of ingenuity has been utilised in compensating for the lower-technology materials available in later centuries. I estimate that this individual finally ceased functioning between one and two hundred years ago. Significant wear to multiple components indicates that the individual’s mobility was reduced for some time prior to cessation of function. She paused, only fractionally, but Link recognised it nonetheless. There is minimal degradation to the memory banks. It is possible to restore this individual to functionality, provided that the correct tools and components can be acquired.
“We could really do it? We could bring him back?”
That is correct. However, the only sites currently known to contain the requisite parts are in the Lanayru Desert. Should you return to the region, I will provide you with a list and descriptions of the necessary items.
“I’ll do it, then,” Link said firmly. His heart went out to the broken robot, something dead that – unlike so much; unlike their cities; unlike Bead the Gardener – didn’t have to be. “Will it matter if it… if we take a few days?”
No, Master Link. The current rate of deterioration is minimal, and will remain so for as long as this individual is kept in this sheltered location. The repairs could be conducted at any time within the next four decades without appreciable alteration in its condition.
“Good.”
He couldn’t reach Zelda until he spoke to the Sheikah. He couldn’t save Davar, or change the Sheikah’s dangerous lives, at least not in any way he knew. He couldn’t fix whatever was wrong with the mogmas, or bring back the dusty cities from the desert, or restore the tumbled ruins in the forest, or somehow save Fi’s long-dead former master. Though he knew he had to fight the demons… eradicate Fi’s terrible ‘shadow of apocalypse’… there seemed so little he could do to help rather than to harm. Perhaps, at least, whoever this robot was, he could bring them back, something purely positive in the midst of all the evil he faced.
Notes:
Sorry it's late, I'd written half the chapter in time, but despite my perennial optimism, in practice the week starting inevitably meant that, yet again, actually writing enough to finish it didn't happen until late enough that I just waited for next Sunday after all.
As far as I know, the potion shop baby is always just “the baby”, and is never given a name or sex. If anyone knows anything more about this baby, I will cheerfully correct the bits I make up to match.
Patch Notes
- Potion types limited to the ‘realistic’; shield repair combined with healing removed.
- Plant squeezings replaced with actual components.
Chapter 58: Caring
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Leaving the market at last, Link turned downhill, glancing at the sun, which was now low enough to wash the entire island in golden light and deep shadow. It wouldn’t be long before he had to head back to the Academy, but if he hurried, he might have time to check up on Kukiel. He was fairly sure Batreaux was no danger to her, and besides, by now all of the knights stationed on or around Skyloft would know about him, and if anything bad had happened he would have heard about it in the marketplace or from the Headmaster… yet even so, he wanted to be sure.
The streets were beginning to empty as he made his way down to the river, Skyloft’s residents finishing their business and hastening home at the first hint of oncoming night. The master builder’s house was already in shadow by the time he reached it, only a little light making its way low enough over the top of the hill to paint the chimney and the thin plume of smoke wisping up from it golden.
Taking a deep breath, Link knocked. There was an instant response from inside the house: footsteps, then the click of the latch and the door swinging open, Jakamar’s voice ringing out the instant one of his eyes was visible.
“Link, lad! How good to see you back safely! Come in, come in, it’s almost night.”
A younger, higher-pitched voice from somewhere beyond Jakamar shrieked “Link!”, and moments later Kukiel had dodged around her father to grab Link’s legs in a firm hug. Surprised, Link wobbled, gripping the doorframe for support.
“You’re back! Me an’ Mister Bats were worried about you!” She let go and stepped back, bumping into her father. “Where did you go? On the surface?”
“Uh-huh.” Responding to Jakamar’s beckoning, Link finally stepped inside, closing the door behind himself. “But I should report to the Headmaster – and the Knight Commander and the Mayor – before I talk about it.”
“Was it very scary?” Kukiel asked regardless, scurrying back to some dolls that were lying on the floor in the main room. “Did you have to fight any rats? Did you find your friend? Oh! And hello, sword-lady!” She waved at the hilt half-visible over Link’s shoulder, and he felt Fi’s attention turn to her.
Greetings, Kukiel.
A broad grin split Kukiel’s face from ear to ear as Wryna came through from another room Link guessed was the kitchen, wiping her hands on a cloth.
“Welcome, Link, welcome! It’s good to see you back. After what you’ve done for us…! Can I fetch you anything? Something to drink? Eat?”
Shaking his head, Link smiled. “No thank you. I should get back to the Academy before sunset. I just came to check everything was all right.”
Wryna and Jakamar both smiled.
“Yes, all thanks to you. And the knights have been keeping an eye on things as well. The Knight Commander has been so kind to us.” Wryna took a slightly deeper breath, clasping both hands about the cloth. “Jak and I both went to see Mr. Batreaux, with an escort, and he does seem to be a very kind person, despite his appearance. We’ve agreed that we will all keep meeting up and get to know each other. But, oh, his little home is… Well, not everyone can be a master builder! So we thought that perhaps Jak might be able to do something about it.”
“With a few of the gang and a spot of rigging, I’m sure we could have the place windfast in no time!” Jakamar agreed, as Link blinked in surprise and second-hand gratitude at the generous offer. Batreaux couldn’t pay them – where would he get money? – and from what he’d seen the one time he’d met him, he doubted Batreaux would burden them by asking for their help.
“Only, because he does look… well, monstrous…” Wryna continued, “we’d have to introduce everybody, and with everything that’s happened recently, everyone is so on edge…”
Link nodded, understanding. With Kukiel determinedly standing up for him, Link, Wryna, and Jakamar had been able to meet Batreaux as a person, not just the deadly monster he appeared to be. But with strange happenings in the sky: with Zelda’s disappearance; with the mysterious room suddenly appearing beneath the ancient, familiar Goddess Statue; with whatever versions of his own reports Mayor Herrene had announced around the island… With all of that added on top, introducing anyone to Batreaux would be fraught at best.
“It’s a very kind thought,” he said quietly. “I’m sure he’d be incredibly grateful that you thought of it at all.” Perhaps, if a few other people met him first… if gossip became that Batreaux was friendly and everyone had met him…
The Skyloft Monster is real? A real monster? Karane’s disbelief and curiosity, leaning from the back of her loftwing four days ago, resurfaced in his mind. Everything he knew about her said Karane was solid as a good clean wind; trained as a knight – better than Link himself was, with at least an extra year of Academy training – not just to fight, but to think; to control a situation; to help others. If they could introduce her… well, it would at least be a start.
“Maybe we can make a start when people have calmed down a bit,” Jakamar said optimistically. “But you know how things are… In any case, most plans take a while to fledge.”
“Yeah.” Link glanced at the window, the street beyond a slowly deepening shadow, and Wryna saw the motion.
“Oh, but you have to get back to the Academy, don’t you? And it’s halfway across the island… Are you sure you don’t want to stop here?”
Link shook his head. “I have to write down everything that happened for the Headmaster and the Knight Commander, and Mayor Herrene. Thank you, though.”
“You’re very welcome, Link! Do stop by again whenever you like. You’ll always be welcome in our house!”
“Yeah!” Kukiel added enthusiastically, and Link smiled.
“Thank you very much. Fair winds, all of you.”
The heartfelt chorus of ‘fair winds’ and ‘clear skies’ from behind him as he let himself back out and gently closed the door warmed his heart. The sky was still golden-blue around him, but the eastern side of Skyloft was completely in shadow, maybe even the whole upper surface, and he began jogging back towards the Academy at a brisk pace. There was almost no-one left out on the streets now, and the two people he did see were moving as quickly as he was, racing the setting sun back to their homes before the dangers of true night.
Hurrying off the bridge to the Academy, Link was brought up short by a figure calling to him out of the deepening darkness, voice familiar but unexpectedly stern.
“What are you doing out at this hour, student?”
“Pipit?”
The older student’s tone relaxed, and he approached as he spoke. “Oh, Link, it’s you. Welcome back! I’m sorry; there have been a few juniors sneaking out in the late evening recently. I thought you were another one!”
Link almost laughed. “No, sorry. I was out to buy supplies. I still need to visit the Airshop tomorrow, but by the time I’d left the market Beedle had already flown away for the night.”
Pipit’s determined face flickered with a hundred questions, but when he spoke, Link heard none of them: he was still keeping his promise to wait for whatever was officially announced. “Well, it’s good you made it back in time. I can only patrol the Academy grounds, so once you’re out of here… I don’t know if it’s really true or not, but people have been talking about there being dangerous creatures and even monsters a lot more than usual. I haven’t seen anything different up here… but the Knight Commander has ordered two knights stationed in the graveyard. He wouldn’t do that if there wasn’t something wrong.”
Link didn’t know whether to sigh or feel relieved. “There’s nothing wrong, exactly. There’s a sky spirit down there who’s… kind of messed up, but he’s friendly. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. I’m trying to find a way to help him.”
“Oh? Well, that’s good of you, Link.” Pipit paused. “Is that what all the fuss over the ‘Skyloft Monster’ is about?”
Link nodded.
“...Wow.” Yet more questions flew beneath Pipit’s angled brows. “If it was anyone but you, I wouldn’t believe it. So the monster is…”
“His name’s Batreaux. He really just seems lonely. He, uh, looks pretty scary… but he seems kind.” Link would prefer to wake up to Batreaux’s hideous face a thousand times than to be on the same island as the evil Ghirahim in all his deadly elegance for even a minute.
“The Skyloft Monster… kind.” Pipit shook his head. “Well, Link, you know a knight should never judge by appearances! I’m glad you’ve learnt that; a lot of people don’t, you know.” It was an imperfect cover for all the things he wanted to say or ask, an awkward internal struggle with his idealised image of the perfect knight, and Link just nodded again.
“Well, don’t let me keep you from your rest. I’m sure you have a lot to do.”
Another nod. “I have to write a report for the Headmaster and the Knight Commander… and the Mayor…”
“Duty, then! More important than rest; I won’t stand in your way.” True to his word, Pipit stepped aside, though he hadn’t particularly been blocking Link’s path to begin with.
“Thanks, Pipit. I hope your patrol is quiet. And…”
“And?”
“…If you ever do meet Batreaux, you’ll be kind to him, won’t you?”
“Of course I will,” Pipit said determinedly. “It’s no less than a knight’s duty to behave honourably to all people, whoever or whatever they may be. I know you understand that too, Link.”
“Thanks.”
Leaving Pipit to his patrol, Link hurried thankfully inside, easing the great doors closed behind him. Candles burnt at intervals in the wall sconces: the sun had only just set, and the final night rounds and locking up wouldn’t be completed for some time yet. Making his way quietly to his room, he got out some fresh paper and sat at his desk, picking up a red quill – like most people, Link’s usual pens were made from the smaller shed feathers of his own loftwing. Without the complicated internal reservoir of his flight pen, he just needed to dip it in the inkwell and, after a moment’s thought, begin.
‘On descending to the surface, I discovered a’
Link paused, listening.
Fi, did you hear that?
I did, Master, Fi confirmed. I detect sounds of physical exertion and distress. They appear to originate in the room adjacent to your own.
“That’s what I thought…” Link hastily wiped the nib of his pen and set it down, the strained and irregular gasps seeming all the louder now that he was focusing on them. It was coming from Fledge’s side; he couldn’t imagine what could be making the younger student make a sound like that. Opening his own door quietly, he walked the few paces along to Fledge’s, gently knocking.
There was no answer.
All Link’s fears crowded around him as he tried the handle, almost throwing the door open, none of them making any sense and yet none he could quite fully deny. The room was well-lit, several candles burning, and he could see Fledge try to lift himself from the floor only for his trembling arms to give out, dropping him back to the ground with a stifled sob.
“Fledge!”
Fledge twisted his head awkwardly to try and look over his shoulder as Link knelt beside him. There was no-one else in the room, and Fledge at least didn’t look hurt, but…
“Link?!” he gasped.
“Are you okay?”
Fledge winced. “I’m training…”
“Training?”
“I feel so pathetic… I always get pushed around, and I can’t – even lift Henya’s barrels in the kitchen.”
Training. Another wave of relief washed through Link, and he had to try hard not to smile with it in case Fledge thought he was laughing at him.
“I really want to get stronger,” Fledge continued, oblivious, still gasping for breath every few words. “But I… I’m too embarrassed – to do extra training – where everyone can see me. I know they’ll laugh at me even more.”
Link couldn’t argue that point. Groose and his two sidekicks picked on Fledge almost as mercilessly as they did on him, and Fledge was a much softer target: it really got to him.
“So since the Wing Ceremony, I’ve been – trying to do extra training at night… But I’m just so tired… I can’t even manage these push-ups…” He sighed, disconsolate, almost ready to cry. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be a knight, Link…”
“Of course you will,” Link said encouragingly. “Listen… just don’t give up, all right? Even when you feel like you’re too tired to move. Do everything you can tonight, and tomorrow night, do a little bit more. Even if it’s just one more push-up, it’s still better.”
“I guess…” Fledge slowly levered himself up onto his elbows, looking at his shaking hands. “I feel like if I know what it felt like even once to actually be able to do it, it would be easier. I’d have something to aspire to… you know? If I had any money left, I’d… I’d buy that Second Wind medicine from the market… but I only just paid the Lumpy Pumpkin again…” He sighed, dropping his head back onto the rug. “I guess I just… have to keep trying…”
Link hesitated, conflicted. He had that exact elixir still in his bag, and he could simply give it to Fledge right now. If Fledge had paid what he could for the month, presumably Link’s own payment was overdue, but he’d been saving up for it. He could give Fledge the elixir, buy a new one the next day with his own money, and save up a bit more for… well, whenever he was next able to get out to the Lumpy Pumpkin. It wasn’t as if he’d be going any time soon. On the other hand, he did owe the Pumpkin for their chandelier, and he couldn’t justify spending the Academy’s money on Fledge’s late-night exercise.
Another look at Fledge’s dejected face, and he’d made his decision. He’d just have to find some way to earn the rupees back as and when he could so that the Pumpkin didn’t lose out.
“I got one at the market today while I was buying my supplies. I haven’t had time to pay the Lumpy Pumpkin, so I can afford to get another.” He pulled the potion out, offering it to Fledge, vivid green colour clear through the thick glass of the bottle. “Here, you take it.”
“Wow, Link, really?” Fledge’s spirits perked right up, although his recalcitrant body clearly didn’t as he struggled valiantly to sit up. “Are you sure?”
Link nodded, carefully depositing the bottle into the younger student’s shaky hands. “I’ll earn back the money I owe them. I won’t have time to fly over there for a while anyway.”
“Thank you!” Fledge exclaimed. “I owe you one again, Link!” He struggled so badly to pull the cork out that Link almost offered to help him, succeeding only moments before he would have opened his mouth. The green liquid vanished in a few swift gulps, and Fledge gasped.
“Wow… my muscles feel better already!” He handed the bottle back. “Thanks, Link! Now I’ll know what it feels like to succeed at my training! I’ll be able to do it again once I’ve done it once, I’m sure!”
“That’s the spirit,” Link said encouragingly. “You’ll get stronger in no time. I’ve got to go write up a report, but you’ll be okay now, right?”
Fledge nodded enthusiastically. “I feel like I just woke up! I’m going to get so much training done tonight. Thanks again! Goodnight!”
“Goodnight, Fledge.”
Dropping to the rug as Link let himself out, Fledge began another series of push-ups, counting them off between puffs of breath.
“One – two – three – four…”
The sound, muffled through the dividing wall, continued through most of the time Link spent writing his report. Only when he finally blew out the candles and lay down to sleep did he realise that he’d stopped hearing his younger friend’s counting at last. Drifting off almost as fast as he closed his eyes, he wondered briefly how many push-ups Fledge had managed before sleep claimed him.
Notes:
Oops, I nearly forgot to post this! Chapter! Have a chapter!
Patch Notes
- Wryna doesn’t spend the entire rest of the game saying every day that she really must meet Bats and thank him, and instead actually meets Bats and thanks him.
- Fledge now has a reason he can’t just go and buy his own damn potions.
- Lumpy Pumpkin plot thread continues to be woven in. Stay tuned for the full chandelier-crashing backstory in later chapters!
- Gratitude Crystals replaced with interleaving kindness and generosity plots.
Chapter 59: Secrets Beneath
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link awoke to the Academy’s morning bell, a sound so familiar it almost seemed wrong. He was lying in his own bed, in his own little room, and it was morning on Skyloft. For a few seconds it almost felt unreal, a normal morning when there was nothing normal left about his life. He sat up slowly, vaguely aware that elsewhere his loftwing was taking a satisfying morning flight, then firmed his resolve and stood, pushing away the brief wish for everything to be normal again. Until he was done, it wasn’t, and it couldn’t be.
He dressed quickly with a mental apology to Fi, placed neatly across his desk the night before. The sword in her scabbard went on last, buckled diagonally across his back over the top of his student uniform, baldric and belt buckled firmly together. Checking everything was in place, Link picked up his report and the harp case Peatrice had given him, turned to the door, and hesitated. He could already hear feet hurrying past outside: the rush for breakfast would have begun almost the moment the morning bell rang. Headmaster Gaepora would probably be in his office, and as long as he was, if Link saw him first, then he might miss the worst of the breakfast crowds, and the inevitable questions he knew everyone would ask him. It wasn’t exactly a normal time to go to see the headmaster… but then, nothing he was doing was normal.
He waited for a particularly loud cluster of feet to go past before he slipped out, shutting the door behind himself and hurrying to the headmaster’s office at the top of the central staircase. Even as he knocked, a voice behind him called out “Link? Is that you?”
Thankfully, Headmaster Gaepora’s familiar voice called from the other side of the door only moments later.
“Come in.”
Link turned the handle, glancing back at the other speaker, a student he’d barely shared three words with in the last year.
“Sorry; I’ve got to go.”
He slipped into the office before the other student could respond, shutting the door behind himself.
“Ah, Link, welcome!” The Headmaster was standing by one of his bookcases, having presumably turned to face the door when Link knocked, a book in his hand. Zelda’s harp lay on his desk, catching the early morning light and almost shining in it. “And good morning. Did Peatrice let you take Zelda’s old harp?”
Link nodded. “Good morning, Headmaster. She was happy to help. Here.” He walked closer as he spoke, holding the case out, together with Zelda’s storage token. Headmaster Gaepora took both with a sad, grateful smile, running his thumb over the embossed harp and its accompanying Z.
“Thank you, Link.” He walked back to his desk, setting the book down in one corner, and opened the case, drawing out a second, somewhat simpler instrument and swapping it for the one on his desk. It was only after a long moment that he handed the case back to Link, who took it with a quiet thanks, twisting to attach it to his belt alongside his other pouches.
“Thank you, Headmaster. Here’s my report, as well. I just need to get a few more things, and then I’ll fly out this afternoon.”
“Do be sure you’re fully prepared, Link.” Gaepora took the report as he spoke, holding it still folded in his hand. He looked tired, and older, the strain telling in his eyes, in his expression. The concern was genuine, and tinged with sadness. “You’ve already done far more than I could ever expect a student to do.”
Link nodded, uncomfortably. Regardless of what the Headmaster expected from him, he still had to go back. For Zelda, for Fi, for the Sheikah…
“Now,” Headmaster Gaepora said, forcibly returning his tone to something resembling normality, “I spent yesterday afternoon thinking about what you said. I know you mentioned it before, but I’m afraid it rather slipped my mind – but this time I was sure I’d heard that phrase before, and I was right. We only have fragments of some of the most ancient legends and tales, of course, but I like to think I know most of them. This one I actually first heard from Kaeber, oh, decades ago.” His voice slipped into a resonant tone of recital. “And the goddess in her wisdom, Wrought for us a gate of time, That the future might yet reach us, If the battle we survived.” He glanced towards his window, the multi-coloured, much used glass painting the Academy grounds beyond in rainbow hues. “It’s a fragment of a longer chant, most of which has long since been lost, dealing with the raising of the islands. Kaeber and I assumed it was metaphorical, telling us that our islands were our gateway to the future… well, to the present, I should say; the chant would have been written for people of the time, not us looking back at them. In any case, the point remains that I had heard the phrase before, and it dates back to the very beginning of our lives here in the sky. And, importantly, if we take it literally, it tells us the goddess created the Gate of Time to help us – maybe even to do exactly what you and Zelda are doing even now.”
Link nodded. “That…” He trailed off, frowning. “But… Fi, you said the robots created the Gate of Time in honour of the Goddess of Time, didn’t you?”
Fi leapt from the sword, causing Headmaster Gaepora to take half a step back in surprise.
“That is correct, Master.” She rotated to face them both, turning her head briefly towards the Headmaster. “However, the fragment that has been preserved, while of limited informational value, is also partially correct. During the final days of human existence on the surface, a second Gate of Time began to be constructed. It was completed by the goddess and one of her mortal allies shortly before the islands were raised into the sky. I possess no further information concerning the fate of this Gate of Time, other than that it is apparent that it was either destroyed or moved between the raising of Skyloft and the present day. It is possible that the Sheikah will possess relevant information. Zelda may have instructed you to seek them out for this reason, but I do not have sufficient data to evaluate the probability of this being the case.”
The Headmaster gaped at her for a moment in silence before finding his voice again. “Thank you. You are incredibly knowledgable. When this is all over, and Link and my daughter are back with us, I would be deeply honoured if you would tell me more.”
Very few of Fi’s long-term predictions were favourable to the Headmaster’s hopes, but her analyses predicted that making any statements to that effect would be counterproductive, damaging his state of mind and likely that of her wielder. She therefore chose to respond only to the other part of the statement.
“It is a part of my purpose. I was created with a vast quantity of knowledge that my wielder might require, and with the capacity to update my database as further information becomes available. At this time, however, I have no further information about the second Gate of Time.”
“That’s all right,” Link said, his hopes renewed. If there was a second one, if the Sheikah knew what had happened to it, if there was a way back- “As soon as we reach the Sheikah, we’ll find out whatever they know about it.” He looked back to the Headmaster, determined. “I’d better finish getting my supplies. Thank you, Headmaster. That was really helpful.”
Fi returned to the sword as he turned to leave, Gaepora’s well-wishes following behind him as he closed the door. There was no time to waste: he had to get back to the surface and find the Sheikah. With luck, the old lady, Mahra Impa, would still be at the temple…
With those thoughts filling his mind, he ate a late and hasty breakfast, though he still couldn’t escape people asking him what had happened, where he’d been. Taking Pipit’s prior advice to heart, he told them all that he’d given his report to the Headmaster and that he had a lot to do. With classes to get to – and Henya looking on from the kitchen – they mostly, thankfully, left him in peace, the last few holdouts hastily departing as Henya came over to him. To Link’s private amusement, considering the speed at which one of the other students had fled, all she did was ask if he’d need meals packing for the next few days in her usual kindly way, and promise to have them ready for him by noon.
On the way out of the dining hall, Link passed by Groose’s usual table, vaguely noting that the tall bully was unusually absent, and his two sidekicks looked uncharacteristically morose. He couldn’t help but pick out some of the words as he passed them: they seemed to be complaining that Groose had been locking himself in his room, skipping class, and generally being off his form. When Strich noticed Link, both shot him almost identical glares, and Cawlin muttered “It’s all your fault.” Link carried on, ignoring them: Groose didn’t even register on the list of problems he had to face any more.
He’d taken his own money from its usual place in the bottom of his wardrobe the night before, and his first isle of call was the potion shop in the marketplace, where Luv clucked over his having used one ‘already, and here on Skyloft too,’ but cheerfully sold him a replacement regardless. With that sorted out, Link hurried back outside, looking around for the Airshop. He’d already seen it once when he’d crossed the bridge onto Skyloft proper, moving away from him, and… there! Clearly having just rounded the far side of the market, it was whirring and creaking its way slowly closer, the great bell hanging beneath it always kept at a safe height above the ground to avoid hitting anyone, only the rope trailing from it – or throwing something at it – giving anyone a hope of actually making a sound. Link jogged towards it, leaping up as he passed beneath to catch the rope and set the bell swinging wildly with the momentum of his jump, pealing out across the hillside. Above him, the Airshop clanked and whirred to a stop, and the rope ladder unrolled itself, descending until its trailing end had begun to pile on the floor. Link waited until it had stopped moving other than swaying before getting onto it, climbing up slowly as it swung about in the wind, twisting back and forth. As he stepped from the ladder on its overhead reel onto the little platform at the back, he glanced down – no-one else was waiting at the bottom – then called out “All aboard!”
As the ladder began to roll itself back up, adding another series of whirrs to the ones the Airshop always made, Link walked the few short steps to the doorway, bracing himself against the way the Airshop rocked at the slightest motion. As always, the curtains were hooked aside, letting the cold sky air in to wash over Beedle, who sat behind his counter perpetually pedalling to provide the power to keep the Airshop aloft. Machinery climbed all four walls of the Airshop, some of it with handwritten notes tacked near it to remind Beedle of this and that. Looking at it with new eyes, Link realised just how much it did look like the machines from the desert, augmented and altered by newer parts just like Gondo’s robot had been.
“Welcome!” Beedle called, without even breaking his rhythm. “Take your time; have a look around!”
Link nodded, although he already knew what he was after. Beedle was Skyloft’s main seller of enchanted pouches: there were very few people who could make them, and anyone with that level of skill could afford to not bother flying all over the sky to sell their wares when they knew people would come to them. Beedle took his Airshop to them regularly, bought whatever they had to sell, and then brought it back to sell on Skyloft. There were only a couple on display, and he inspected both before picking one, holding it up to show to Beedle.
“How much for this, please?”
The sum Beedle named was fairly standard, and well outside of Link’s means as a Knight Academy student… but it was just within the reach of the budget the Academy had given him. He nodded, and began to count out the crystals, laying them one by one on a tray inset into the counter so that Beedle could count them too.
“Oh, thank you!” Beedle cried as Link put the last one down. “You’ve given me the strength to keep on pedalling!”
“You say that every time,” Link replied with a brief smile. It was practically Beedle’s catchphrase.
“So?” he huffed, still ceaselessly working, even as he reached out to tip the contents of the inset tray into a drawer below. “It’s true every time! Although this is much more expensive than you usually go in for. You must have been saving up responsibly!”
“Well…” Link could have, he was fairly sure – at least if he didn’t have a huge debt to pay off – but he hadn’t. “Actually, Headmaster Gaepora and Knight Commander Eagus ordered me to go and buy extra equipment. So…”
“Ohhhh.” Beedle paused. “I do hope you didn’t break your old set! You’ve only just made senior, haven’t you? At the cere-”
Beedle’s mouth dropped open, his eyes widened, and he froze.
“Wait, you’re not the Knight Academy student who the goddess herself divinely ordered on a quest to the legendary ‘surface’, are you, Link?!”
“It didn’t happen quite like that,” Link protested, “but… yeah.”
“Ohhhh! That’s incredible! And my wares will help you on your journey!”
Link nodded. “Yes. So, thank you very much.”
The creaking sounds of the Airshop had changed in timbre, and he could feel the floor beneath his feet starting to sink.
“Er, shouldn’t you-”
“Oh no!” Beedle cried, bending over the handgrips and beginning to pedal for all he was worth. “You shocked me so much, I stopped pedalling!”
“Sorry.” Link glanced over his shoulder, assessing the angle of the shadows on the Airshop’s outside platform. “I’ve got to go anyway, but I’ll tell you about it another time.”
“Thank you!” The Airshop still hadn’t quite returned to its normal sounds, although it had stopped sinking, and Beedle looked to be breathing harder with the additional strain of coaxing it into rising again. “Keep the goddess’ wind… at your back, Link!”
“Clear skies, Beedle.”
Link stepped back outside and climbed quickly back onto the ladder, which begin to lower itself only moments later with a clank and a whirr. Beedle preferred it if those who could climb up did, saying it put less strain on the machinery, but if someone couldn’t climb the ladder, all they had to do was hold on and wait, and he’d haul it up with them clinging on. Going down was, apparently, easier, and he’d never objected to anyone riding the ladder as it descended. As the first of the two rungs below him touched the ground, Link leapt off, landing lightly and leaving the empty rope ladder swinging in the breeze, retracting slowly back up into the Airshop. That was that task done, and one of the more important ones at that…
“Ahhh, Link, isn’t it?”
Startled, Link turned to see Mallara beaming at him, her long, curling hair tumbling over her shoulders in a manner that wouldn’t last ten seconds in the air… except it had never had to, and never would. Everyone knew Mallara, or knew of her: the only adult in all of Skyloft to never have a loftwing. There were a handful who had lost theirs, objects of sympathy and pity as everyone around them instinctively understood the horror of their loss, but Mallara was something different again. No bird had ever come for her, no bonded companion to share her days, and no-one knew why.
“It is Link! I thought it was you from what my Pipit said. Tell me, how are you doing? And how is he?”
“Pipit? He’s doing well, I think. He’s been very kind to me.”
“That’s my Pipit!” She smiled, her blue eyes bright. “He doesn’t tell me much about his schooldays, you know. But he did tell me all about you, and how he’s been very honourably keeping the other students from pestering you. So I won’t bother you with questions either, though I have been hearing it all from the Mayor’s announcements. It’s quite incredible… I don’t think I could ever do such a thing. You must come and sit down if you’re ever on our side of the river. Any friend of Pipit’s is always welcome, you know.”
Link nodded. “Thank you.”
“And send him my love if you see him, before you have to go. I don’t see him nearly often enough since he’s been at the Academy… But I suppose it’s worse for you, isn’t it? Aren’t your family from off-island?” Link’s slight nod was enough for her to continue without a pause. “I don’t think I could stand ever leaving Skyloft, you know. It must have been very brave of you to come here when you joined the Academy. Just like you are being now! Just the thought of flying anywhere makes me nervous, never mind into that. Oh, but look at me… prattling on while you have somewhere to be. You do, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes. But do come by if you have time, or if you’re stuck on our side of the river at night.”
She looked almost hopeful, and Link found himself saying “I will.”
“Wonderful! I’m so happy to have met you at last, Link. You seem like just the kind of person my Pipit would like. Well, goddess’ blessings on you, and be very careful!”
“And on you,” Link said, “and I will.”
As they parted, he noticed that Mallara’s tunic, though a rich and vibrantly-patterned orange, had a mismatched patch on the near sleeve: still orange, but of a different shade, and held on by slightly loose, uneven stitching. He wasn’t sure why it stood out to him beyond that it clashed with her otherwise well-kept appearance, and, after a moment, pushed it to the back of his mind. He’d take one last walk around the rest of the shops, collect his meals from the kitchen, and – at last – be ready to set off back to the temple, to Mahra Impa and whatever the Sheikah might know about the second Gate of Time and anything else Zelda might have thought they could tell him… and to learning whether or not Davar had lived as Link so desperately hoped he had.
Notes:
This past fortnight Ardil learnt to work QGIS and did a ton of mapping for another world, so that’s what’s been keeping me busy; sorry about that! Also, Ardil now loves QGIS, it is complicated and fiddly and my new best program friend.
Patch Notes
- Headmaster occasionally possesses fragments of relevant information.
- Mallara plot thread introduced!
- Link does not randomly invade Groose’s room to hear him complain. Don’t worry, we’ll hear from him later!
Chapter 60: Collision
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It felt good to be flying again, his bird’s strong red wings bearing them steadily towards the hole in the clouds, the wind whipping through his hair, his destination known and the journey straightforward. He was as prepared as he knew how to be, Zelda’s harp secure in its case, the various elixirs he’d bought arranged at his waist, Fi calm and silent on his back beneath his shield. For the first time in days that felt like months, he was flying into the known, and all he didn’t know was what Mahra Impa would be able to tell him.
The gap in the clouds opened up below him, cloud dissipating at one edge; swirling into and reforming at the other. Link gazed down into the shadowy green below, a sense of dread creeping into his heart. Knowing about the great and terrible seal down there, it now seemed only natural: he had to be almost directly over it. Setting the feeling aside, he gripped his sailcloth firmly, then swung his leg over the back of his loftwing and jumped, the bird only squawking grumpily, this time, before veering into a lazy circle to watch him drop away.
Arms and legs outstretched to catch the wind, Link plummeted down towards the gap in the clouds, angling himself through the air as he aimed for the dark, treeless patch between the vast trees, and the pale stone temple beside it. He’d land as close to the crumbling temple as he could without risking landing on it. If he could get over the clearing at the side, rather than the distant yawning horror of the seal…
The clouds shot past on either side of him, and all of a sudden the sideways elements of his fall stopped: there was almost no wind beneath the clouds that day, it seemed. Link sideslipped, backed a little; found himself on the perfect line, and finally, gripping its loops, flung the sailcloth free. It billowed open above him with the usual snapping jolt, slowing his fall almost instantly to a comfortable drift with plenty of room to spare.
Somewhere up above, his loftwing’s distant sense of curiosity, a curiosity Link had half-felt since shortly after his jump – another bird in the near skies – suddenly changed to alarm, and an echo of another bird’s panicked cry. Link’s head snapped up, staring upwards fruitlessly: all he could see was the huge expanse of canopy of his sailcloth, sewn and embroidered by Zelda.
“Fi, my loftwing thinks something’s happening. Can you see what’s going on up there?”
I detect another individual dropping through the clouds above you, Master. The individual appears to be attempting to match your flight path.
“What?!” Who would – well, maybe anyone with a sense of adventure might, but how – how did they find the hole? Had they followed him? What would happen to them?!
The individual has adopted a posture minimising air resistance, and is approaching rapidly. Master, I detect that this individual is one of your fellow students at the Knight Academy. He matches your mental description of Groose.
“Groose?!”
There was a shadow on Link’s sailcloth suddenly: a wide shadow, another sailcloth above, as Groose – Groose?! – flung open his own sailcloth to slow his descent. It grew wider, darker: Groose was still decelerating – then Link heard yelling; saw the dents of two feet sinking into his own sailcloth! Groose was right on top of him, the one thing all their instructions in preparation for the upper class – they would all get their own; Link’s was just the only ornate, ceremonial one, given to him a day or so before the others would have got theirs with their new uniforms – told them not to do; the upper sailcloth would-
The dent of Groose’s feet grew deeper, and slid sideways; Groose was yelling the entire time, filling the air with shouts for help interspersed with the occasional obscenity; Link’s own sailcloth was pulling sideways, airflow completely changed by the distortion of Groose ‘standing’ – now more lying and kicking – on it and his half-deflated sailcloth tugging out to one side. Even as Link watched, unable to do anything other than shout back at Groose, the bigger student slid all the way off the edge of Link’s sailcloth, screaming in panic as his own clearly no longer gave him any lift at all, grabbing frantically at the fabric of Link’s and-
“Groose, NO!”
-releasing his own in the process, sliding fast down the arcing fabric towards the strapping locked around Link’s arms, legs flailing frantically, only his strong grip keeping him from falling to his death. They were dropping fast now, too fast, spilling air from one side as Groose’s weight tugged the other down, carrying more than twice the weight the sailcloth was meant to; Link tried to pull down on the other side – Groose came sliding into him still yelling, flailing so frantically he kicked Link in the ribs before his hands reached Link’s arm – there was a sudden, horrible jolt as the sailcloth caught on something, and then they were hanging in the air, swinging back and forth, the ground still an uncomfortably long fall away as Link’s right hand slipped, leaving him and Groose hanging solely by his left hand, Groose hanging on with a death grip!
Link tried valiantly to swing his right hand up and grasp the last remaining strap, but the inevitable happened before he could: the strapping was slipping through his left hand, the loop riding up painfully around his wrist – a moment later it had slipped, and he was holding it only by his fingertips – and then they fell. Groose let go as they did, in the few moments before they hit the ground, his and Link’s voice alike rising in a brief scream.
Both Link and Groose landed hard, lying dazed on the forest floor for several long, silent moments until the sounds of the forest started again around them: the fluting, chirruping songs of the little birds; the rustles and calls of the animals.
“Ugh…”
His head spinning, the voice clashed unpleasantly with Link’s expectations. It should have been Fi, prompting him to move with her silently musical Master; instead he could hear Groose, groaning.
“Rough landing… I think I might’a broke something…”
Link opened his eyes to the unwelcome sight of the Academy bully lying spread-eagled on his back not two paces away. What was Groose doing here?
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to land? You know, without crash-” Groose had slowly sat up as he spoke, and as he finally took in his surroundings, he fell utterly silent for a few moments, his mouth hanging open, before finding his voice again.
“WHOA!”
Link began to push himself up, glancing quickly the other way to check for danger, then turning his head back towards Groose. He ached, but nothing was broken – any more than Groose seemed to have actually broken anything, which Link found he was mildly glad of – and he could still move.
“Wh-what… what IS this?” Groose’s head turned slowly, looking at the forest around them as though he couldn’t comprehend it. “B-birds?! TINY birds?! Wh-what… ARE they?! H-how… Wha-what…” He’d got to his knees by that point, and seemed incapable of rising further. “Where am I?!”
Carefully standing, relieved not to have sprained anything and dismissing the bruises he could feel he’d have, Link found himself feeling almost sympathetic to Groose. This region of the surface was nothing like the scare stories… at least, not unless some bokoblins or worse heard Groose’s shouting. His eyes darted from side to side again, searching for danger in the trees immediately surrounding the small clearing they’d landed in, confirming what the forest noises, the song – and presence on several nearby branches – of the little birds, and Fi’s quiescence had already told him. They were safe.
“This is the surface,” he said quietly, walking over to Groose. The calm, familiar voice seemed to snap him out of his paralysis, as all of a sudden Groose was on his feet, gripping Link’s shoulders and shaking him back and forth.
“What’s going on here?” Groose demanded. “Ever since Zelda vanished, there’ve been all these crazy stories, and you’ve been flying off on some special mission – I figured if I tailed you, then-” The shaking had slowed down, and, thankfully, stopped. “Those stories sounded dumb, but this is… so wild. Seriously, what ARE those tiny things?” He pointed up at the birds, which were ignoring him. “And what’s with all these trees? There are so many!”
Link had thought that, too: so many, and so huge- and then Groose was shaking him again, before he could even begin to find the words.
“Just give it to me straight! I can take it. Where are we? Is Zelda here?”
“Groose-”
“What’s the deal with this place?! There’s supposed to be nothin’ below the clouds, so what’s all this?”
Despite himself, Link found himself smiling, just a little. Just a few days ago, he’d felt the same way, wonder alternating with his fear for Zelda. If Groose really cared about her enough that he’d risk tailing Link out here; that he’d leap towards a hole in the clouds that had to terrify his loftwing as much as anyone else’s on the strength of having seen Link do it… He clapped Groose gently on the arm, a gesture unexpected enough that the big student looked down at Link’s hand, then slowly back into his eyes.
Disentangling Groose’s hands from his shoulders, Link repeated himself calmly. “This is the surface. Almost everything about it has been forgotten in the sky. We’re in a great forest that fills this region, near a place called the Sealed Grounds…” As he explained, he almost wondered if Fi felt something like this. Different, and in her own strange way, without the emotions he felt – and he was certainly no Groose – and yet…
Wonder of wonders, Groose listened to him, silent, gaping.
“...Whoa…” he said finally, when Link had finished. “You’re kind of imploding my mind right now… But I think I get what you’re saying…” His expression – despite his habit of squinting – was so hopeful, so pleading, that Link found himself feeling almost sympathetic.
“If I’ve got this right,” Groose continued, “Zelda is down here somewhere, and she’s… OK?”
Link nodded. At least, I think so.
“She’s… she’s okay,” Groose repeated, as if he was only slowly beginning to believe it. “Oh, wow! That’s so great!” He laughed, the same somewhat gormless laugh Link had heard at his own expense far too many times, but for once there was nothing malicious about it: it was a sound of pure relief and joy. “Hearing that is such a… huge weight off my mind.” He wiped his eyes on the back of his glove, grinning, and sniffed before slowly looking around, wide-eyed, but this time taking it all in, his eyes lighting on the little birds again.
“You know, Link… It’s sort of all right down here.”
Slowly, he turned, still gazing all around him. “This place needs a name.”
Link opened his mouth to remind him that the region was called Faron, according to Fi and to the Sheikah who lived here, but Groose was still talking.
“Yeah… a name fitting for this rugged, adventurous wilderness. From now on, we’ll call it… Grooseland!”
Link actually took half a step back. He wasn’t serious… was he?
“You’re not serious about that, are you?”
“Look, I discovered it, so I get to name it. That’s the rule!”
But I- Link sighed. It would be easier and simpler to just ignore him.
“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, ‘but Groose, didn’t I get here first?’ Well, maybe you technically did, but you didn’t name it when you had the chance, so now the decision falls to me! Just like it should have.”
That’s because it already has a name… Link thought. And even if it didn’t, I wouldn’t call it something like that.
“So,” Groose continued, changing the subject as if there was nothing more to say, “lemme see if I’ve got this right. You said the old lady living in some temple down that way knows where Zelda is?”
“Yes,” Link said, slowly.
“I see…” Groose folded his arms, the way he always seemed to when he made some pronouncement or other to his sidekicks. “Right, Link. Thanks for getting me here. You’ve done a good job. You can head home.”
What?!
“Big Groose will handle the search for Zelda from here.”
He’s treating me like Strich or Cawlin! Link didn’t know whether to be amused or appalled at the notion. What made Groose think Link would even want to be his little minion? He’d picked on him for years! He’d imprisoned his loftwing!
“Yup,” Groose mumbled, his usual manner fully reasserting itself. “I’ll track her down, save her, and then give her a lift back to Skyloft…”
She doesn’t want saving, Groose. She’s doing something really important down here. She won’t come back for any of us. Not until it’s over. Groose was grinning to himself, far away, and Link knew there was no point saying anything to him.
“Then when we get back, I’ll ask her if she wants to make our whole going-out thing official,”
Zelda wanted you thrown out of the Academy! You’ve never had a ‘going-out thing’ with her! You just don’t listen when she tells you to go away!
“and then the two of us will get some quality time together,” Groose continued, oblivious.
Link grimaced, and he must have made some sort of disgusted or disbelieving noise, because Groose refocused on him as if suddenly remembering someone else was still there.
“Anyway, the point is your work here is done. I got it covered from here!”
“Groose, you-”
“Now, it’s off to find that old lady you were talking about,” Groose announced, purposefully cutting him off. “Catch you later, Link!”
He turned and ran in the general direction Link had pointed, leaving Link gazing after him.
“Groose, your sailcloth!”
There was no response. Link looked down at the path, then up at the two sailcloths spread pathetically across the side of one of the immense trees that bordered the clearing.
If he didn’t take care of his equipment, he would die. If Groose didn’t take care of his equipment, he would die. Whatever he had done to Link in the past, Link didn’t want the bully’s death on his conscience.
“Fi, can you sense any bokoblins around here?”
No, Master. I detect that the evil emanating from the Sealed Grounds has increased in strength, however. The seal that you reinforced eight days ago has weakened significantly during that time.
Link cast another worried glance in the direction Groose had run, towards the temple. “Do you know if the old lady is still in there?”
I cannot detect her. Her aura was previously undetectable except at close range, due to the Sheikah arts of concealment. There is a 98% probability that she remains on guard within the temple.
“She should stop Groose from doing anything too stupid… right?”
There is an 85% probability that he will stop to engage her in conversation.
“So he’ll probably be okay for a couple of minutes.”
Fi didn’t contradict him, and that, Link thought as he began scrambling up into the tree, would have to be good enough. Even if he didn’t fold either – he could do his own in the temple, and Groose’s was his responsibility – he had to at least get the two sailcloths down before they ripped any worse than they might already have.
Notes:
For this chapter Ardil read about what happens if you stack two round parachutes too close above one another, which seemed to me intuitively like an aerodynamically bad idea. Surprise, surprise: it turns out it can indeed go badly, as – from what I read – the descending turbulent air immediately above the lower parachute causes the upper parachute to partially deflate! (People who know more about parachuting than me are very welcome to give me better information. I just searched a bunch of aviation and parachuting sites and forums and the like as I couldn’t find a really authoritative source with an answer. Turns out most parachutes in use these days by non-military types are the rectangular steerable sorts rather than the round(ish) ones like Link here is using, so info on simple round parachutes was hard to come by.)
Patch Notes
- Groose no longer stupid enough to be suicidal. (Imagine if he’d missed his tiny, probably less than 1.7 by 0.5 metre, target and pancaked!)
- But still a bit stupid.
- Skydiving equipment kept standard Academy issue in the upper class by issuing plain sailcloths to all students.
- Gorko moved so that he no longer just ignores two people dropping from the sky right in front of him! Don’t you think he’d be all over that like lichen on a boulder?!
- Non-tame birds that have experience of predators no longer perch on people.
- Reason provided for Groose to somehow get to the temple several minutes ahead of Link even though only the latter actually knows where he is going.
Chapter 61: Chosen of Fate
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Groose ran through the huge trees in the direction Link had pointed, scrambling up strange plant-cloaked rock mounds and jumping down on the other side, sometimes casting about for a better path. This weird place wasn’t anything like what he had expected or like Strich and Cawlin had told him the stories were saying. Probably the Headmaster had been keeping what it was really like to himself so all the students didn’t start flying out there. He’d reckoned without Groose! He wasn’t enough of a baby to be cowed by scary stories!
For once, he didn’t blame Link for the lie, his feelings towards the dopey kid unusually warm. After all, Link had showed him the way out here and told him how to rescue Zelda! Maybe he was finally learning to respect his seniors. Magnanimously, Groose decided he and Link could start again, despite the way Link had totally messed up their landing.
Most of his mind, however, was on where he was going – and Zelda. Pretty Zelda, with her sun-gold hair; much prettier than stuck-up Karane or sharp-featured Sperah. Whatever trouble she was in, Groose would rescue her, and fly her back to Skyloft since her loftwing couldn’t fly, sick and sad in the pens behind the Academy. Of course, he’d have to carry her on the back of his own loftwing, maybe hold onto her since he was sure his bird’s bold flight would catch her by surprise. He’d return to the Academy a hero, and then…
A lighter patch in the forest beckoned him on. Groose shot out into the open space, and realised that the green and grey ahead of him wasn’t just more undergrowth, but a stone wall cloaked in trees and creepers. This had to be the temple Link had told him about! There were the doors, big heavy-looking things, and inside there was supposed to be some old lady who knew how to get to where Zelda was! Taking a deep breath of the weirdly thick, warm air, he set his shoulder to the right-hand door and shoved.
It ground open with an unpleasant grating sound, spilling cool air out over him, musty and strange, dark enough inside that it took his eyes a moment to adjust. Probably Link would have thought it was spooky, but Groose gathered all his resolve and stepped inside.
“Welcome… child of the sky?” The softly spoken voice echoed around the crumbling temple: an old woman’s voice with a funny accent, rising at the end in uncertainty. Groose looked around wildly until he found her, up at the top of some stairs to his right, sitting in a beam of daylight shining through a hole in the roof, hooded and cloaked in red. This had to be the old woman Link had told him about!
Heedless of anything else, Groose ran up the stairs to stand in front of her. She was so stooped and frail, he towered over her even when she stood up, looking up at him from a face like crumpled parchment.
“Yo, Grannie! Link tells me you’re the lady who knows where Zelda is!”
“Ah… you know Link?”
Well, that made sense, Groose supposed. If the old lady had only ever met Link, she wouldn’t know about anyone else up in the sky. It was sort of a shame she had to meet him first, but he wasn’t actually all that bad after all, so maybe she hadn’t been too disappointed.
“Yeah! He’s my junior classmate! He’s kind of a weed, but I guess you met him already. Anyway, I’m Groose. I’m here to save Zelda! You know where she is, right? And she’s OK?”
“Wherever the spirit maiden, your Zelda, is, I believe she is safe.”
“Huh huh…” Just hearing it again made Groose laugh in relief.
“However, young Groose…”
Groose looked at her quizzically.
“At this time, there is unlikely to be anything you can do to help her.”
“What?!” Groose shouted, his voice echoing around the temple. “No way! Listen, I can do anything she needs me to do! Anything!”
“I am afraid that is not so. You are not the one who will save her, if saving she should need, for it is not your destiny to do so.”
“Huh? You gotta be kidding me, Grannie! You’re messing with me. Say it again, I dare you!” A grating sound echoed through the hollow, empty temple as Groose spoke, but he ignored it. No-one told Groose what he could or couldn’t do!
Pushing the door Groose had left open shut again, Link listened for a moment to the voices before beginning to walk slowly towards the stairs, and Groose and the old lady at their top.
“I only speak the truth,” the old woman said, impossibly calm. “You are not the one who will save her. The spirit maiden, your Zelda, can only be saved by another. It has been his fate to do this thing, and in doing so save us, since long before you were brought crying into this world.”
“Shut it, Grannie!” Groose yelled. “You obviously don’t know me well, ‘cause if you did, you’d know that if anyone’s gonna save Zelda, it’s Groose! How could it not be me? Plus, if it ain’t me, why would I even be here?” Who else would have dared to ignore all the scare stories? Who else would have been smart enough to find the weird hole in the clouds, or brave enough to ignore all the crazy things he’d seen in this impossible gigantic land? “Pffft. If I’m not up to the job of being the hero, just who is?”
The old woman looked to her left as soft footfalls sounded on the final few stairs.
“Huh?” He tore his eyes from her, realising in surprise that Link had caught up, his arms full of bundled sailcloth. He really was shaping up if he’d brought Groose’s sailcloth to him without even being told!
A few moments later, as Link stopped at the top of the stairs and looked between them, the old woman’s expectant air finally sunk in.
“Oh… now I getcha.” Groose didn’t know whether to be frustrated or infuriated, and he turned to the only other person he could speak to, making it clear as day there was no way that Link of all people could possibly take his place. “Link, Grannie here has been trying to tell me you’re gonna be the big hero who rescues Zelda. What a joke! Look, all I’ve heard so far is a bunch of babbling about destiny, but that’s a load of garbage. I know you, and you’re no hero, shrimp!”
Link didn’t even blink. Groose’s opinion had never mattered to him… now, in the face of everything he had seen and done, it meant nothing at all.
“I got your sailcloth down,” he offered, quietly. It seemed to be the straw that dragged the loftwing down, as Groose looked between them both in disgust, then abruptly ran off in the direction of the large double doors and their sealed evil, screaming in inarticulate frustration. Link watched him go for a few moments, then shrugged internally – horrifying as the yawning pit was, Groose probably couldn’t come to much harm out there unless he walked off a ledge – and set the bundle of the two sailcloths down gently on the stone floor.
“Greetings, Link,” the old lady said politely, as calm as if Groose had never existed.
“Greetings… Mahra Impa?”
The pleased smile that crossed her face made Link glad he had been right.
“Were you able to catch up with Zelda?” she went on.
“Sort of…” Link explained, sparing nothing, and Mahra Impa listened, her long white braid swaying gently with her every breath.
“Ah, I see,” she said finally, when he had finished. “So young Impa was there as well, was she? That is good. She is the one I sent forth to find Zelda and assist her, after she fell here before you… and she will have had the sacred one with her.”
“The sacred one?” Link asked
“The sacred one is a being sent forth by the goddess to aid the spirit maiden in her quest,” Mahra Impa said, an explanation that Link felt didn’t really help. “With the aid of the sacred one, the spirit maiden will have the same certain guidance as you do through the Goddess Sword you bear. If they have even now travelled into the past, it will be to accomplish a part of the great task destiny has set before them. However,” and as her eyes met Link’s, he saw that she recognised his urgent determination, “now that Zelda has destroyed the great Gate that they used, there is only one way left for you to reach them.”
“Yes?” Link spoke the single word quietly, though his whole being demanded to know the answer.
“Please show me the harp that the spirit maiden gave you?”
Somewhat puzzled, but obedient – Zelda had said he would need it if she wasn’t with him – Link drew it from its pouch, solid in his hand yet with just the faintest echo of the feel of a sunbeam, of the light through which Zelda had somehow given it to him. He held it out to Mahra Impa, who studied it closely for several moments.
“Yes…” she breathed. “This harp has been imbued with the power of the goddess herself. Tell me, Link, have you yet attempted to play it?”
Link shook his head. “Zelda said I’d need it, but there hasn’t been any reason to… yet.”
“Do you know how to play it?”
“Sort of,” he ventured. He knew the basics – he’d taken the same music class as Zelda when they were both thirteen – but she’d been the one to truly fall in love with the instrument.
“I suggest you familiarise yourself with it before we begin the next step,” Mahra Impa suggested, kindly.
Next step? Link looked at the harp in his hands; turned it and touched his fingers lightly to the strings. It felt somehow slightly more responsive than the one he’d played before in those half-forgotten classes, as if the sounds he hadn’t yet played were almost shimmering under his fingertips. Slowly, Link ran his fingers across the strings, the notes rippling forth gently. To his surprise, it sounded perfectly tuned, despite the days it had spent being carried around unused. He supposed Headmaster Gaepora could have tuned it, but…
As he switched from simply caressing the strings to picking out a simple child’s melody, Mahra Impa nodded approvingly.
“Very good. Now, if I sing for you, can you follow the melody?”
“I can try,” Link said, somewhat uncertainly. Mahra Impa seemed to accept that as a certain confirmation, as she didn’t even pause before speaking again.
“Then we will begin. Listen closely…”
Her old voice rose in a remarkably true, wordless note, and Link’s half-remembered feel for the instrument guided his fingers to the right string, his focus narrowing to Mahra Impa’s voice, the harp in his hands, and little more as the ancient temple echoed once again with music, at first slow, faltering and uncertain, but growing more sure as Mahra Impa repeated the melody over and over with endless patience.
Notes:
I think we might be sticking to fortnightly rather than weekly chapters for the next while. Sorry about this! October and especially November are dead busy…
Patch Notes
- Thousand-year advisor confirmed as actual functional semi-immortal. (Parasova may wear down, but she’s believably able to last a long time!)
- Game mechanic tuition replaced with in-character tuition.
- Link given some prior experience with a harp to justify how quickly he learns.
Chapter 62: The Hunger
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Once Link could play the melody alone, Mahra Impa had bade him do so, this time winding her voice around it in a song so ancient Link could barely understand half the words in it: a song of gratitude; of praise; of love and of being loved. The music flowed through the temple like a memory of light, and in its echoes Link could almost envision it as it must once have been, pristine and undamaged, filled with worshippers who might listen to or raise their voices as part of such music.
As the last note died away, something unheard drew Link to turn, a sense of something opening behind him. He turned, startled, catching his breath as, shimmering with softly bluish light, a great obelisk seemed to draw itself into being in the space between the tongue of stone along the centre of the temple and the circular platform on which he stood. Parts of its surface were clad in a material that at first glance seemed dull, but on a second look was carved with intricate etchings that seemed to continue to scales smaller than his eye could see; parts shimmered an infinite yet depthless deep blue, faintly reminiscent of the Timeshift Stone he had seen in the desert, but so much… more. Link gazed at it in wonder, a part of him already recognising it as the quiescent version of something he had seen but once before.
“Imbued with the power of the goddess who once watched over this land, the harp you bear is a divine instrument.” Mahra Impa spoke softly from behind him, at once awed and unsurprised. Had she known this would happen? “Any melody you bring to life upon it will have power… power enough to produce a variety of effects, even the otherworldly. Legend tells that when the Ballad of the Goddess is played with the Goddess’ power in this, her sacred temple, it will bring forth the Gate of Time that was built here long ago.”
“This is the Gate of Time…?” The intricately ornate block looked nothing like the stately turning gear that he had seen so briefly deep in the desert, and yet something about it, perhaps the graven symbols, or the almost endless depth of the blue stone beneath them, brought back to his mind an echo of that strange and timeless grandeur.
“That is what the legends tell us,” Mahra Impa confirmed. “It is now the last in existence… the only portal binding our time to the one in which Zelda now resides. If you are able to open it and pass through, surely you must end up in the same era as Zelda.” Though her words were qualified, her voice held the certainty of faith. She paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, it was in a tone of serious fact – not a warning, for all that it sounded like one; only a statement. “You will need to endure many hardships and put yourself in great danger to awaken the gate from its dormant state.”
Two weeks ago, Link would have protested. Now he just nodded. After all he had already been through, down here on the mythical surface, how could he have expected anything but?
“Though your journey will put you in harm’s way, Link… you must endure. And I know that you can.” If anything, her voice was kindly. Link couldn’t imagine her speaking to her own people in anything other than the same way. Ireya and Davar, heading knowingly into terrible danger, accepting it unflinchingly… he didn’t think anyone had ever told them that they would be safe. Only that they must face it. “It is your fate as the chosen hero of the godde-”
Something happened then, a silent shifting like a cloud blotting out the sun, a sense of oppression, of a yawning emptiness, washing over them, silencing Mahra Impa and Link alike for a moment as the temple’s gentle sense of safety was replaced with emptiness and haunting shadows. All at once Link was aware again of tumbled stone and broken roof, of the hollow brittle structure built in ancient times and now ready to fall apart.
A sound like a tremendous and terrible indrawn breath filled the air, the ground shaking beneath their feet, and Link looked around frantically for a threat that felt as though it were everywhere.
“No…” Mahra Impa whispered under her breath, and for once she sounded no more than a frightened old lady. “This cannot be… I fear the seal is breaking!”
“Wh-what can I do?!” Link asked, urgent, the hilt of his sword over his shoulder shining with a pale blue light.
“You must go to the bottom of the pit outside. With the power of the sacred blade, you may be able to restore it if you hurry!” Mahra Impa’s voice shook with desperation and fear.
There was no choice. Link didn’t even hesitate, bolting for the great doors though the shaking ground threatened to throw him off-balance with every step and a chunk of stone crashed down from the ceiling above as he ran. The awful yawning horror, the scream threaded through everything, the too-real images of despair – everything he’d felt the last time was shoved to the back of his mind as he fetched up against the doors, forcing one open enough to slip through in fits and starts as the trembling ground shook it on its hinges. Link staggered out into the strangely dim-feeling daylight – and stopped dead.
Four paces from the temple’s doors, it came crashing in on him, a darkness, a hunger gnawing at him from all sides, only the frail and faint light of the sword on his back holding it off as if he stood upon a narrow pillar with a storm raging on all sides that might tear him from his perch in an instant. He reached over his shoulder without conscious thought, gripping the shining hilt for reassurance alone; drew it for the sake of having the blade in his hand. Fi was silent, but not still: he could feel her purity of purpose, feel all her power pressing back the evil that assaulted him – not far, but far enough. He forced himself to take a deep breath, to look around and take another step, and as he did he saw Groose off to his left, cowering curled up at the foot of the crumbling wall that extended from the temple, one fist jammed into his mouth as if to stop himself screaming, blood trickling down the back of his hand, eyes wide and staring at nothing.
Master, the temple radiates a protective aura.
The words were barely even spoken in his mind: Fi knew it, it was relevant, and she imparted it to him in an instant. Groose was outside the protective aura, just as Link had been after four short steps, and unlike Link he had no sacred sword to protect him.
Almost before he could think about it he was already moving, slamming the sword back into its sheath though all he wanted was to grip it with all his strength and never let go. He grabbed Groose under the armpits; the bully flinched, began to make some abortive motion – but Link was already yanking him backwards, and he was within Fi’s protection, then, soon, three paces from the temple and safe within its. Link dropped him there unceremoniously, half-aware of Mahra Impa emerging from the part-open door, but he could do nothing more than meet her eyes for an instant as he ran towards the long spiralling ramp that led to the bottom of the pit, to the hole in the bottom of the world, sword once more in his hand as weapon, as light, as shield. Down he ran, as something that felt like a hollow, booming impact seemed to shudder through his soul, though he could see and hear nothing other than the shaking of the ground.
Down, spiralling down, into the abyss.
Down – and then suddenly he was at the bottom, sooner than he had quite expected. The triangular pillar seemed utterly shrouded in shadow, the designs on it blurred almost out of existence, the complex patterns of dead and dying moss on the ground seeming tainted as if with blood, or some vile black liquid, that gave off an insubstantial yet terrifying smoke as if something that should never have existed was even now seeping forth from it into the world. Darkness seemed to spread from it, shadows creeping outwards, ebbing, pausing like a held breath.
Everything seemed to stop, as if just for an instant the entire world was still. Link forced himself to move, but even as his weight began to shift, the shadows suddenly rushed outwards, like a boiling river too long denied, an utter darkness that was an emptiness, as if he stood on the rim of a pit deeper yet, and he watched in frozen horror as something began to drag itself forth from that lightless void.
It was the thing he had seen in his nightmares, in the terrible vision when first he had landed outside the temple, all teeth and all-consuming maw, not quite shapeless, not quite formless, as if it was struggling to impose itself upon a world in which there was no place it could fit. He had an impression of scales, red-black on blackness like an imperfect steel cage cloaking the end of the world; it was a mouth, it was all mouth, split almost down the middle to roar with a voice that shook the air and battered at his thoughts. It was want, it was need, it was the emptiness at the end of empires, a devouring hunger that could never be sated.
It folded itself to peer at him, eyeless, its lumpish form bulging and reconfiguring, splitting at the base into limbs, roiling blackness like a wound in the world cracking to spit forth bones: the bones of a splayed foot larger than anything Link had ever seen, the pitted remnants of something that had moved and walked and worn a body, now animated in a hideous dead mockery of life as the thing that had long ago devoured form and now wore its corpse imperfectly turned itself away from the morsel before it and towards the great banquet of life above.
With a foot of bone lashed together by a yawning void, it took a long and terrible step, covering several times Link’s height in a single motion, the ground shuddering as the great foot came down, almost as much as if even it flinched at the touch as from its weight. Link backed away, staring up at it, knowing he had to keep himself between it and escape at all costs, but not knowing what he could even do against this nightmare.
“Fi,” he whispered, never taking his eyes from the horror before him, “how do we stop it?”
Her voice in his mind was inexpressibly welcome, though it was almost as flat as when they had faced Ghirahim, its music all but vanished and her every sentence terse.
Although I can defend you against its aura, Master, your sword does not yet have sufficient power to destroy this being permanently. I detect that this manifestation possesses only a reduced amount of its previous power. Analysis suggests that its intelligence is reduced or absent. In addition, elements of the seal persist upon its form. I conclude that the seal must not be fully broken. I therefore recommend weakening the manifestation by direct attack. This may bring the surviving elements of the seal within your reach. However, it is imperative that you avoid direct physical contact with it. Anything other than the sword will be corroded and drained by its touch.
As the monstrosity took another earth-shaking step, Link could see what she meant for himself: where it had trod the ground was utterly lifeless, the carpet of ailing moss stripped away and only bare rock remaining, strangely ridged and pitted. For a moment, he pictured the forest above as a grey wasteland, lifeless and cold, victim to the all-consuming hunger that gnawed at him from all sides until he and Fi stood alone, a single light at the edge of an abyss. He desperately wanted to turn and flee, but if he did it would be unleashed upon all the world.
He backed away as the first great foot rose and fell again, leaving another blackened, dead footprint in its wake and bringing the monster almost upon him. Another step and it might crush him, or even pass over his head. Against all sense, in the face of all his fear, Link dashed forwards to meet the foot that had just planted itself a scant few paces from him.
It was even more horrifying close to, a single skeletal foot broader than he was tall and far longer, gigantic bones splayed just slightly too far apart so that they seemed an obscene parody of a human’s, wound about by tendrils of writhing blackness that seemed, somehow, to suck in all light. Link didn’t realise he was shouting as he struck, barely even hearing his own voice in the immensity and the horror of it, a two-handed swing with all his strength behind it slicing down through the air, cleaving through the void and into the bone, which cracked in a long, jagged line but did not break.
He’d hurt it.
The slow and ponderous motion stopped, the roiling mass above him letting out another ear-splitting, soul-shaking roar. There was a moment’s resistance as he yanked the shining sword back out of the crack it had opened, staggering back one pace; leaping back another; spinning and bolting as he saw the foot he had struck begin to lift with ominously threatening purpose. Only when he’d put some distance between them did he turn, panting, just in time to see the immense foot slam down with earth-shattering force that almost knocked him from his feet, a wave of darkness spilling from it as if questing out for whatever had struck it – Link turned and ran again, unwilling to risk waiting to see if it would reach him, only glancing over his shoulder once he was a good distance further still. He slowed and stopped as he saw, with a brief moment of relief, that the darkness had dissipated or retreated, though once again it had left death in its wake.
Perhaps satisfied that it had removed the irritation, perhaps urgent to reach something it could devour, perhaps neither of those but simply impelled forwards, the gigantic horror took another slow, ponderous step.
We hurt it, right, Fi? Link thought, clutching the sword in a hand that he abruptly realised was slick with sweat.
Yes. The damage to the bone-like regions has reduced its ability to take coherent form. You have reduced the structural cohesion of the manifestation by approximately 8%.
So I have to do that… maybe ten more times. Or more. And that was if it didn’t kick him, step on him, catch him in another wave of darkness, or something else it hadn’t done yet. Another shudder ran through him, convulsive, unstoppable. For a moment, he glanced up to the top of the pit.
From the depth he was at, he could see nothing but the tops of the trees and the clouds above, even the roof of the temple hidden. Mahra Impa and Groose were nowhere to be seen, hopefully still at the temple doors, safe – or at least, safer – within its protection. Link had no illusions that protection would survive if the monster reached the top of the pit.
Taking a deep breath through gritted teeth, Link dashed back towards the monster, already far too close to him with the distance it covered with each heavy stride. A foot thumped down almost as he reached it, nearly throwing him to the ground with the force of its impact; he staggered, but struck anyway, shouting in wordless defiance as the shining blade once again cut through the tendrils of darkness and, this time, severed an angled slice from the very tip of a skeletal toe. The severed portion crashed to the ground and shattered into dust in time with another terrible roar, but Link was already running, getting as far as he could as fast as possible before, just as it had the last time, the monstrosity slammed its injured foot to the ground in a wash of writhing darkness.
This time, he looked back to see how far the ring of death had gone; slowed and stopped sooner, turning back once again to face it while still panting from his dead run. He could see the harm he had wrought, cracks in one bone and a fragment missing from another, but it seemed so little in the face of the crushing immensity looming over him.
As long as it takes… he thought, clinging to the knowledge as strongly as to his sword, and once again ran back towards it as it took another step. This time he ran further; pivoted; brought his sword down on the outermost of the long bones, embedding it with another crack, another spine-freezing roar. The thick and ropy tendrils of darkness he had cleaved through to do it lashed about as they were severed; lashed out at him, and Link yanked the sword back so hard he fell over, almost cutting himself on the peerless blade as he scrambled back on his elbows, the great foot already beginning to lift as he rolled over and ran for his life.
The horror took two more steps while he was still steadying himself, getting his breath back, advancing inexorably forwards and upwards. Again he ran towards it, straight into the face of the inevitable, striking with a yell and, this time, immediately fleeing despite the shock that ran up his arms, the moment of resistance as he yanked the sword free. It felt as though he had been fighting this thing forever; he doubted it had yet lasted two minutes, but time seemed to have lost all meaning and somewhere a part of him tasted ash, and smoke, and death.
A fifth time he charged, the light of his blade his only defence, running defiant into the all-consuming hunger that surrounded him before it could escape, rise up and reach out into the living world beyond to devour all it touched. It clawed at him even through Fi’s protection, a maddening urge to consume and rend and destroy, to send the whole of existence spiralling down into a lightless void. Pivot and strike and run, leaving shattered bone behind him; he couldn’t escape the pall it cast across everything, but he could escape the shadows that spilt from it, searching, hungry. It seemed to be moving slower, or was he just imagining it, a slight drag to the more-damaged foot so that he waited for it to take another step before dashing towards it yet again, every breath a slowly increasing struggle in air that felt smoke-laden though it was perfectly pure.
Link ran, and turned, and brought his sword down with all his strength into a gouge he had opened before – and the bone shattered in half, almost exploding, a shard catching him full in the chest and throwing him backwards! He hit the ground hard, winded, though the bone shard was already crumbling into sharp-edged glassy dust into nothing, urgency his own and Fi’s intermingled pushing him to get up before his own body would fully respond. He rolled over, staggering to his feet, breaking into as close to a run as he could as behind him the damaged foot slammed down, that awful black emptiness washing out from it; he was almost out of its reach-
Something caught him at the ankle as if his foot were stuck in quicksand, and he fell, a horrible gnawing burning beginning to spread up his leg even as he frantically drew the other up to his chest; twisted enough, wrenching his trapped leg badly, to see. He’d almost cleared the darkness, almost: it was receding everywhere save where his foot was mired in it, but there it had shaped itself into clutching tendrils, questing further up his leg with a greedy, grasping motion, and as it reached above his boot where there was only sturdy cloth to protect him from the elements he felt it in full. Link screamed: it was like being eaten alive, body and soul alike, as if tiny pieces of himself were being torn off and torn apart, and he hacked frantically at the darkness with the shining blade he still held, seeing it recoil but never enough. A wordless impulse from Fi, felt more than even thought, and he lay the sword along his leg, the flat of the blade pressed against clothes and skin, and though where it touched it burned with a cold and unyielding flame, it burnt the darkness far worse: the tendrils drew back from it, retreated, and Link yanked himself free, half-sobbing as he scrambled away.
The monster, mindless, ignored him, refocusing its aim once more on the bounty of life above.
“F-F-Fi…” By the time Link had stopped, he was pressed against the rocky wall of the pit, trembling. He didn’t know what he wanted to ask her, couldn’t quite form the question, the pain unlike anything he had ever felt still sapping his strength, his will.
Master, I have purged the evil from you. All at once she was in front of him, floating implausibly bent so that her strange, perfect face took up almost his entire field of vision, so close that their noses should have touched and he could almost feel a faint, cool tingle where hers would have brushed his. Link could have hugged her for it; weakly tightened his hand on the sword instead.
“It is imperative that you heal yourself immediately.”
There was an urgency to her flat, clipped voice, and something even beyond it. Link couldn’t focus, couldn’t say what it was, only that Fi, too, felt somehow on the edge of a precipice. Her words were enough to make him move again, fumbling with a shaking hand for the elixirs he’d forgotten, the simple feel of glass in his grip almost reassuring. He couldn’t spare his other hand for the stopper, yanked it out with his teeth and dropped it, nothing more important than drinking as quickly as he could.
Blessedly, the pain faded – not to nothing, or not exactly, but to a phantom echo of what it had been, felt only in his mind. Fi had moved back slightly when he drank, and for the first time Link focused on something beyond her. He’d been bleeding, he realised with numbed surprise, a trail of blood on rock and thin soil leading to the place he sat. His leg he only glanced at, the cloth of his trousers ragged, eaten away; his boot no less scarred, only thicker, a sword-shaped pale mark like a burn running straight as a blade up its side atop all the rest of the damage. Link looked away hastily; got to his feet, Fi vanishing back into the sword as he did. His leg supported his weight and didn’t hurt any worse, and that would have to be good enough.
Tucking the unstoppered bottle away, he looked across the pit to where the monstrosity was already almost a quarter of the way around. Even as he watched, it took another slow, dragging, almost unstable step.
We’ve hurt it. We can stop it.
The thought was enough to allow him to spur himself into motion again, running after the terrible creature, sword out before him as if to cut through its crushing aura, an island of light all but alone in the dark. It took another step before he reached it, and another – and then he was there, and as it lifted its broken left foot he struck at its right, at the back where the huge knobbly bone of the heel protruded from the void-dark tendrils that bound it together. The sword shone in his hands, cutting deep into the bone, and cracks shot across it in multiple directions with a dry snapping sound that even the roar couldn’t fully drown out. Expecting the worst, Link yanked his sword back and ran, past the hideous foot, determined to put himself in front of the monstrosity once again.
There was no slamming jolt of the ground behind him, no foot coming down like an island falling from the sky, and Link looked over his shoulder as he slowed. The vast horror was quivering, scales flexing this way and that, as if tremendous rats were scurrying about inside it, bulging it out in one spot or another before leaving and leaving it sagging inwards. It drooped downwards like a waterskin placed atop a too-narrow pole, the outer edges of it sinking to the ground in an unnatural, almost fluid way that made Link’s stomach roll.
Master, the manifestation appears to be attempting to abandon its form. This is not a viable long-term strategy.
It wobbled, quivering, a blob of scaled jelly collapsing under its own weight for a moment before it split apart, opening up and up and up across itself until it was all mouth, nothing but mouth, an endless lightless sucking maw that flexed and flowed across the ground with a sudden obscene speed, rippling towards him like water flowing uphill, like a wound in the world, covering the sloping path from cliff to edge, filling the very air with darkness.
Link didn’t need Fi’s prompting to turn and run, frantic, the thing behind him chasing. He could feel its hunger clawing at him, sucking, trying to drag him back into its devouring void.
It is not possible for it to maintain this formless state for long. You must outrun it.
Panting for breath, Link was doing his best, but he could feel the darkness gaining. He couldn’t risk looking over his shoulder at it, losing precious fractions of a second just to see whether it was five paces behind him or only one. With his off hand, he fumbled for another bottle: the Second Wind elixir, the one he’d given to Fledge and briefly considered not buying a replacement for. By feel alone he yanked it out; tore loose the cork; tipped it back, spilling some – but drinking enough. New energy flooded through him, revitalising, the incipient stitch in his side fading, and he sped up again, suddenly outpacing the dark tide that had been all but lapping at his heels.
Surely it couldn’t chase him all the way to the top. Surely it would have to stop; Fi had said it would have to stop – surely he only had to run one more step, or another-
Master.
Trusting the impulse absolutely, Link looked over his shoulder, slowing and stopping. Though he was at least three quarters of the way to the top of the pit, the lightless maw behind him had stopped, writhing and humping as it slowly flexed red-black scales out of itself in a manner that should have been impossible. Amongst them, something caught Link’s eye in the same moment that he felt Fi nudging his attention towards it: a pale shape that didn’t belong, the core of the faintest pattern of cobweb strands that slipped beneath the flexing scales – the pillar, or something that looked like it, the triangular pillar from the base of the pit. Embedded like a splinter in the abyss, one scale caught and lifted upon it, it was moving as they did, rising slowly higher one tiny jerking motion at a time.
That is the key to the seal, Master, Fi confirmed, swift and silent. If you are able to drive it deeper with your sword now, while the manifestation is weakened, there is an 88% probability that it will imprison it fully once more.
“Right.”
Link eyed the pillar for a moment, near the edge of the horrendous monstrosity, inching slowly away from him second by second, but still within his reach. With a sharp breath, he dashed towards it one last time, through the hunger assaulting him and the fear gnawing at him, to the very edge of the amorphous shape as it slowly, slowly caged itself once again in form.
He leapt as he reached it, sword held high, striking true with all his might. The shining blade hit the top of the pillar dead-centre, driving it deeper into the monster, into the void it somehow clung to, and a silent scream of rage and hunger unsated ripped through Link’s mind. Even as he was falling, the void-
Imploded.
Half-formed scales flew everywhere like shards of glass, the darkness within shrinking to a point bound in a light part the bluish-white of the Goddess Sword, part a different, white-gold hue. Another instant passed, barely enough for Link’s feet to hit the suddenly shadowless ground, and the scales were drawn inexorably after the tiny orb as it floated gently down to the centre of the pit, the pillar balanced implausibly atop it.
At last, the oppressive weight lifted from Link’s mind. He took a deep breath, tasting it for the first time in what felt like years, and began to walk, spiralling back down, down, down into the bottom of the pit, where the patterns of dead moss now shone with a faint, weak light and the pillar hovered on the dull point of its base at their exact centre.
Looking at it, remembering, Link almost felt sick.
Master, Fi prompted, uninflected, raise your blade to the sky.
In a way, it felt like permission.
Bracing himself for what he would feel, Link held the sword above his head, light catching in it, filling it, spilling down the blade and shining…
...but the vision was leaving him, and there was only her face – a single faint light between himself and the void – he could feel the evil, the hunger coming for him – light in the blade pitted against darkness, and a vast horror looming over it all –
and the other voice was screaming, pitch-perfect and unbroken, but Link knew and recognised it, and to save her and save himself he swung the sword down, guided by something deep as instinct: diagonally down, and up, and across, following a shape he could not see but could sense embedded within the seal. As it struck the pillar every symbol upon it glowed with the same blue-white light, and when he drove the sword down as though he could, through it, force the pillar into the scarred rock and soil, so it drove itself into the ground.
He was standing alone on the stony ground at the bottom of the pit, shaking, sword in hand but the light faded from its blade. The pillar stood before him, once more seeming nothing more than an ornately carved stone. Still trembling, Link staggered back from it as far as he could before dropping to his knees, this time keeping enough presence of mind to rest the sword gently across his lap, left hand on the hilt, right lightly atop the blade.
Perhaps it would help.
Notes:
Well, that was a fun bit of writing to come back to! I wanted to make the Imprisoned at least a little bit more scary and threatening, and I hope I succeeded!
Sorry it's taken so long! I got asked to do a ton of extra work I hadn't signed up for, and I agreed to help out since everyone was a bit desperate, but wow that was a workload, and it overran to boot! This is the first week I've had time to write almost anything in…
Patch Notes
- Impa now takes her own advice and doesn’t stop to explain in the dire emergency.
- Impa displays fear.
- Groose given really really really good reason to cower.
- The Imprisoned now scary.
- Slug Mode now terrifying (I hope).
- Regeneration removed from toes.
- Slightly comedic wiggly wobbly vulnerable white flesh replaced with the bones of dead gods.
- Plot threads and character development based on backstory events continue.
Chapter 63: Aftermath
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Mahra Impa hastened down the spiralling slope, caution tempering her need to hurry. She and the other young skyfallen man, Groose, had felt the shadow lift. The temple’s protections had kept them from its full weight, as she had known they would, but even so, it had fallen heavily across both of them.
Listening to the terrible roars coming from below, she had ventured out once, into the crushing, all-devouring, remorseless hunger surrounding her from the void below. It had taken every ounce of her Sheikah-trained will to resist it, shoring up her suddenly so-frail thoughts as it clawed at them, burnt at them.
She had looked down, over the edge, summoning up all the steel of her hard life, and she had seen the hideous shadowed mass that should not have existed, bound imperfectly into form. She had seen the light of Link’s sacred blade darting almost to the heart of the shadows, cutting a path through them to slice at the ruinous shape within. Her old heart had leapt with hope even as it quailed with fear, and she had wanted to help him, but knew, as they all knew, that there was nothing she could do. The horror imprisoned there was beyond the Sheikah: they could not even face Ghirahim directly, and the monstrosity of the pit they had watched over for a thousand years was far, far mightier than he.
This Mahra Impa had known, and she had known that every moment that she forced herself to stand beyond the temple’s protection was another moment in which the clawing, grasping need to devour tore at her will ‘til it break her. She had retreated, cautious sense dictating the only route by which she could survive, though part of her yearned to watch the battle as if she could support young Link, chosen of the goddess, with her old eyes alone.
And, as all Sheikah knew that sometimes they must, when to move would be only to add one more name to the endless rolls of those who had died in battle against the demons, she had ignored the battle raging below her as best she could. She had turned to young Groose, pale and staring at his shaking, bleeding hand. With a gentle firmness, she had claimed it, cleaned it, bound fingers bitten to the bone that they might heal cleanly. He had said nothing, gone beyond words, and she had gently patted his back in a wordless gesture of reassurance as, together, they waited out the evil that neither could fight.
When it had ended, in a soundless thunderclap and in the sudden lifting of the crushing pressure, in the banishment of the unseen shadows that had turned the normal day to nightmare, Mahra Impa had clambered stiffly back to her feet and ventured forwards to peer over the edge once again. She had seen Link, head down and weary, walking the spiral slope to the bottom of the ancient pit; had seen the pillar and the design of the seal around it glowing with a faint light.
She had started to walk; stopped; turned back to Groose, now hugging his knees and staring at nothing. Soothingly, she had told him it was over; asked him to help her walk. He’d taken the arm she offered when she told him to, almost automatically, and clung to it like a lifeline as they made their way down, avoiding the etched and scoured dead patches as best they could.
By the time they reached the bottom, Groose remembering himself enough to slowly let go of Mahra Impa’s arm, Link was kneeling with his back to the rock wall, sacred sword across his lap, his head bowed. If he noticed either of them coming, he gave no sign. Groose took two more slow steps, then stopped, staring at him.
“Well done, Link.” Mahra Impa spoke softly, reassuringly, and even so Link’s head snapped up instantly, left hand reflexively tightening for a moment on the hilt of his sword until he recognised her and relaxed. His face was streaked with dust and grime from the dry ground, tracks both dirtier and cleaner outlining shed tears, his eyes hollow with the shadow of the monstrosity he had somehow, incredibly, defeated.
“When the seal broke, I feared it would be our end. Even in the first moments of its awakening, the Imprisoned would have been a foe beyond any of the Sheikah. Yet you were able to restore the seal and return it to its captivity… I am truly impressed.”
“It wasn’t… fully broken,” Link mumbled. Even his voice felt thick and clumsy, the words almost difficult to form. “The seal was still…” On it? In it? “...there. We just had to reach it.”
“That you were able to is still impressive,” Mahra Impa said gently, though moments later she sighed, her old face creasing into well-worn lines of concern. “I fear this may happen again, but even if nothing else, you have bought us a little more time in which to act. My people have guarded this seal for a thousand years… and, over time, as you saw when you first landed here, we have seen it wear thin. The behemoth you beat back into confinement is a horror of unspeakable power. Never before has it broken free, or begun to break free, as it did just now. Even with all you have done, I fear that the seal will give way again soon.”
Link’s head dropped in defeat. “How long do we have?”
“I do not know,” Mahra Impa admitted, uncertainly.
Eight days have passed since you first reinforced the seal, Master. Fi’s voice sounded abruptly and unexpectedly in his mind, at once surprising and inexpressibly welcome. You have restored it to a similar strength. In addition, you have temporarily reduced the demon’s ability to manifest a form capable of existing in the mortal realm. There is a 90% probability that at least eight days will pass before the seal is again reduced to a sufficiently low strength to begin to break. Further time may additionally be required before it is capable of manifesting form once more. I do not possess sufficient data to evaluate how much.
“Thank you, Fi,” Link murmured, before looking back up to Mahra Impa. “Fi thinks we have eight days. Maybe more.”
“Then you are left with precious little time to complete the task with which you have been entrusted… but goddess grant it will be enough.” The old woman clasped her hands, making a quick, secretive gesture that Link would have missed just two weeks previously. “Will you return to the temple with me, Link? There is much to discuss… and we should not speak of it here.” She tilted her head slightly towards the pillar, and the whorls of dead moss around it, and the pitted, lifeless footprints the monster had left wherever it trod. “We do not even speak the name of the Imprisoned here, lest it hear us.”
Link shuddered, understanding. “I… I’ll come.” He found himself dithering in the next moment, wanting to use the rock wall behind to help himself stand; not willing to relinquish his grip on the hilt of his sword. In the end he simply pushed himself stiffly to his feet, right hand on the ground for an instant, sword still in hand, though held so low its tip almost touched the stony soil. Standing once more, he stood still for a moment before taking a slow, weary step towards Mahra Impa, and another. The old woman waited for him to draw level with her before turning as well, leading him gently away.
Groose, a few paces away from either of them, could only stare. Link’s haunted eyes, the streaks of tears unnoticed down his face, his quiet, drained voice… and, as he stood up, his right leg, its trousers gone to blood-soaked tatters, the boot pitted, etched, and holed, with a strange straight burn-mark along the inner side.
How was he standing? How was he walking?
How had he faced it?
Groose stood gazing after him, thoughts incoherent. All the foundations of the world seemed shattered. He, Groose, had been going to take his rightful place and save Zelda and everyone would see how much they ought to look up to him. He was the strongest in the class. His mother was mayor for a whole island. He was going to be somebody big and important when he graduated just like he was already important in the Academy. Everyone knew they ought to do what he said.
And that feeling had hit him like a hurricane, and he couldn’t have faced it, couldn’t have gone into it for even a single second. He didn’t know what he had done. Old Grannie had bandaged his hand where he’d bitten it. It still hurt like anything. He hadn’t even been able to run. He had always been the toughest… always had his own way…
And Link, little shrimpy Link, who never showed him any respect and kept hanging around Zelda like an unfledged chick so they could never get any time alone and took his place in the Wing Ceremony…
Little shrimpy Link had pulled him back when he couldn’t even have saved himself, and the blackness in his mind had made him want to rip Link’s head off just for being near him, but Link had yanked him back anyway and the darkness had lifted and then he’d just-
Gone.
Gone running right into it.
Groose couldn’t even imagine what he had felt. How he had faced it. How he was walking on that leg, not commenting on it or showing how bad it had been so everyone could see how tough he was, but just like it didn’t matter. Of course he’d probably had one of the healing elixirs you could buy, but no training accident had ever, ever looked like that.
The surface was more dangerous than any of the stories had said. He hadn’t believed them, and he’d been wrong.
Whether or not everyone obeyed him at the Knight Academy didn’t mean anything.
And Link…
* * *
Link pushed open the great door enough for himself and Mahra Impa to step through, glancing behind himself in case Groose was following before obeying her gesture to close it again. The heavy door grated across the ground, raising a faint echo in the old temple. It felt, somehow, a little safer with it closed, the evil beyond shut outside once more, for all that Link doubted the doors would do more than slow it down for an instant if it escaped again.
Following Mahra Impa, he stopped before the tongue of stone, four ornate steps followed by two strangely mismatched plain ones, all of them gently furred with moss and lichen in places. The block that was, somehow, a second Gate of Time looked much the same from this side as it had from the other, complex engraved coating giving way to fathomless blue. Link looked from it to the old woman, ignoring the ache half felt in his right leg, half in his mind.
“As we were saying,” Mahra Impa said slowly, “the Gate of Time. As you can see, the Gate is little more than a slab of cold stone for now. It is closed, and opening it will require a very specific power. The legends entrusted to us by the goddess tell us that the power released by your sword by a Skyward Strike will serve as the key to its lock…”
Link instinctively lifted his hand back to the Goddess Sword’s hilt, returned to its scabbard only when he’d needed to sheathe it to open the heavy doors, but Mahra Impa raised her hand to check him.
“…But this will only work once the sword has been reforged to its full capacity.” She sighed. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Link. It is as I was telling you before… you must face further dangers before the Gate of Time can be opened. The spirit maiden was meant to be here to instruct you, but both she and the sacred one are lost to us for now, and so I will do all I can in the goddess’ name. We are told that you and your sword must grow together.”
Link watched her, listening, fingertips still curled around the hilt of his sword.
“In each of the regions where the sacred springs are found, and in the deep desert, there is also hidden a sacred flame. These holy flames are the only thing capable of tempering the blade that you bear. You must seek out each one, and purify your sword in its heat. Only then will your blade be fully imbued with the great power for which it was created.”
Link nodded, slowly. Fi’s strength and purity felt undimmed beneath his fingertips, but he felt no reaction; heard no correction.
“The Sheikah were not entrusted with the location of the sacred flames, however, beyond the vast areas in which they can be found. For had that knowledge been torn from us by the demon Ghirahim…” The old lady shook her head, and Link thought he saw her shudder. “Had he known the purpose to which they would be put and how they could be found, your quest might have been ended before it could begin. So instead, we are told, clues to finding the sacred flames were entrusted only to your people above the clouds, woven into the lyrics of songs of worship most precious to them. You must discover these clues, Link. They are your best hope of finding your way to the flames in time. Somewhere on your island must dwell those who still bear this knowledge, though to protect it they may not know its import or its true meaning.”
Link half-closed his eyes, casting his mind back to Skyloft. Headmaster Gaepora and Father Kaeber… surely between them they would know what he sought? So many times he had heard the Headmaster talk about some scrap of archaic knowledge, or Zelda repeat something interesting she had found in his notes or one of his books, and while he knew Father Kaeber less well, the older man was both the goddess’ foremost and perhaps holiest priest and Headmaster Gaepora’s brother; a devout scholar of the divine. When Zelda had been learning the melody of dedication to play at the Wing Ceremony, she’d told him how her father and her uncle had sat down with her to talk her through its history, its ancient symbolism, the faith it expressed. She’d said…
The door behind him grated open, and Link’s eyes snapped open even as he whirled, pivoting on his good leg to see only Groose, walking slowly inside. The tall bully glowered at him, his gaze sliding from Link after a moment to Mahra Impa to the dormant Gate of Time beyond them both. Inwardly, Link resigned himself to whatever Groose might say, but his gaze returned to Mahra Impa and the glare faded.
“I hate even sayin’ this, but I guess you got it all figured out, Grannie.” Groose turned his back as he spoke, folding his arms, too quickly for Link to be sure what had passed across his expression. “Me, well, there’s nothin’ I can do to help Zelda. I’m useless.” His voice was bitter, and shaken, and hollow.
I don’t think anyone could have faced that monster. I don’t know if I could have done it without Fi. Even if I could have still run up to it I don’t know if I could have hurt it. I couldn’t have sealed it again without her power. He wanted Groose to go away, yes; he wanted him to finally get his head around the idea that other people existed and mattered; he wanted him to stop picking on him and Fledge and the other kids and recognise the many ways he’d made their lives worse and be sorry. But even his sometime tormentor didn’t deserve the horror outside.
Groose turned away before Link could find any words to speak, dropping his arms and walking slowly back towards the great door that led to the horrifying pit. Link noticed the bandages wound around the fingers of his right hand for the first time with a faint, dulled surprise.
“Ah.” Mahra Impa’s voice was soft, but it still lifted above the sound of Groose’s footsteps. “You sell yourself short, my young friend. You’ll see in time that even the least of us still have a role to play in all this.”
Groose just walked faster, barging past the half-open door and shoving the one that was still closed slightly open on his way out. Link and Mahra Impa watched him go before turning back to one another.
“Link,” Mahra Impa said gently, “go now. I will watch over him. Trust in fate to guide your feet. Everything depends upon it… both our fate and that of Zelda, in the distant past.”
Link nodded once, acknowledging and understanding. There was precious little time. He began to turn; stopped as a patch of white on the stairs at the far end of the temple struck him.
“Will you keep his sailcloth safe for him?”
Mahra Impa nodded, and a small smile creased her old face. “I will. He has a lot to learn, and this world is a harsh teacher.”
“Thank you.”
With a last nod, almost a bow, Link turned and left.
Notes:
In the game, there’s another scene with Groose after this, in which he unfathomably waits for Link to come outside before screaming about being useless (still facing away) and running off to punch a wall. I doubt he waits for Link to do all that. We’ll see him again later.
Patch Notes
- Impa now sounds impressed rather than almost dismissive.
- Actual reason given for calling the captive being “The Imprisoned” rather than Demise.
- Impa no longer taunts Link by pausing long enough to let him walk three full steps and nearly draw his sword before telling him that actually he can’t do this yet.
- Multiple “Ballad of the Goddess”es now distinct and separate songs. (Impa literally just taught us to play the/a Ballad of the Goddess. Perhaps she doesn’t know the lyrics, but that seems a bit much.)
Chapter 64: A Pattern Turning
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Who are you?
I’m… a servant of the goddess Hylia. My name is Zelda. She sent me to help you however I can.
After stepping through Gate of Time, Zelda had tuned it back to the beginning of the Cycle, leaving it as she had found it in the future. Then, with Hylia’s divine power at her fingertips, temporarily freed from the restrictions of hiding from Ghirahim as she would have to in the future, she had searched the ruins of the city, lifting the robots who could still be restored from their sheltered resting places, Para’s sensors, Hylia’s senses, and Saina’s understanding of what each readout, each feeling meant combining into a sure and certain knowledge. One by one she had found them, all the ones she could easily revive, until there were no more to recover and she scoured the city again for power cores.
She’d killed them all. She had to bring them back.
One by one they’d woken, booting up with twitches and beeps, shock, questions. None of them remembered anything more detailed than Reach and Rails and the others Saina had woken so long before, and for that, Zelda was glad. She hadn’t explained it to them, couldn’t bring herself to. Only that the goddess had sent her to help them, because she loved and cared for them, and she owed their kin a great debt. When she’d explained she’d come through the Gate of Time, when their own finely-calibrated sensors had confirmed her temporal displacement, when she’d spoken of time with the fluency and understanding of a temporal engineer who had all but seen its heart, they had accepted her words. To avoid the risk of temporal instability, they had even agreed, unprompted, not to question her too deeply.
She’d told them that, by the time a thousand years had passed, they had left the desert; that they would need to, one way or another. That she didn’t know why. She’d told them of the islands that Hylia had raised above the clouds; warned them of the shield that would prevent any spirit passing through… but not, perhaps, them. She’d told them that she would find and revive others in other cities as she could, on her way through the desert, and send them to meet those she had already awoken.
She had warned them what danger would lie to the east for a thousand years, for Hylia had guarded the Triforce and the demons would not leave until it was found, and hoped that they might travel west across the desert and be free of it all, somewhere far away, but she had left the choice to them.
And afterwards, as she and Impa made camp in a room the robots had declared safe and gratefully offered to her, she had felt pasts and futures spin around her again, balanced on the fulcrum of her choices, and held her head, dizzy with it.
She had lent her powers to the robots’ aid again the next day, helping them salvage whatever they asked her to: some things she didn’t recognise, others she knew they would need to travel across the desert, not asking them why. They avoided asking her questions either, Cycle-born just as she was, knowing the danger of alteration of the great tapestry of time. The gratitude they showed her, asked her to convey to her goddess, promised that they would honour her goddess in demonstration of, touched her heart even as it weighed it down with guilt.
This is all my fault. I killed you all.
I broke the Cycle…
But the words remained unspoken, and when, two days later, she had done all she could readily do and told them she would have to move on, every last one of them came to see her off in her patched-up levitrain, a crate of power cores her only cargo. Perhaps the trains were all identical, all designed for the same purpose, but she felt that she recognised it: that it was the same levitrain she had taken from Cronellon in the distant future.
Disembarking at Cronellon, realising almost without surprise that she had arrived on the same platform she had departed from in the distant future, Zelda had hesitated. Link would need to pass through here, and he would need the power cores she had brought with her readily accessible – but not so accessible that it would be immediately obvious that they went together with the levitrains, just in case someone else, or Ghirahim, passed through in the thousand years that had to pass before Link collected the cores she knew he’d need. She’d have to put them somewhere close by, somewhere he could find them, if he knew what to look for…
She remembered being in this same station, a very literal lifetime ago. Saina had searched it once, looking for transport and for robots to reactivate. She’d found both: levitrains that could be repaired enough to work; and a robot who nicknamed herself Rails, caught emptying bins in one of the offices when the temporal shockwave had hit. Thinking of the upbeat maintenance robot and her grand dreams of one day running the entire levirail network, Zelda smiled, at once fond and sad.
With Impa’s help and a slight boost from her own divine power, she carried the crate up into the stationmaster’s office, lying the office bin on its side beside it in a private memorial only she and Para would ever understand. Perhaps – probably – Rails was still alive in this time, playing out her role on the islands above and far to the east, but in Zelda’s own she was long dead. Past and future spun in her mind again as she remembered searching for cores nearby, knowing from the traces of her own power that she’d encountered before that, somehow, Hylia – or Zelda herself – had prepared for this, had been here before her. She’d found them in the crate in the office, the bin still on its side a thousand years later, a silent memento that had made her smile in bittersweet regret for all the many people who had helped her, who she had loved, and who she would never see again. In the endless ever-changing landscape of the when, cause and consequence eddied about her. Had she done that? She had in this past, in its future; she always had, and yet she sensed that there were paths where she had not, other temporal stabilities where Zelda would-had will-yet reached the Gate of Time earlier, or later, or another way – but they were not, where she was, and this causal chain was stable, and she knew at her core, where Hylia had barely felt and Saina had consciously known only theoretically, that she could never see far enough to encompass the ripples she had caused from the points where they began.
Take as then my gift to you.
You’ve what you need, if need it must be.
A weight of disapproval, a weight of inevitability. A weight of consequence… Not of refusal.
The consequences that follow I shall not shield you from.
Zelda leant against the wall, feeling a tremor run through her. Had all her choices, all anyone’s choices, always been like this? Was the only reason people didn’t feel the weight of them the fact that they could only see the past, and that imperfectly; that no part of most mortals could span even the slightest breadth of time?
“Your Radiance, do you need to rest?” The words were so soft they were barely above a whisper, yet she could hear the concern in them. Zelda pushed herself upright, dragged her mind back into the present enough to smile at Impa, to feel her gratitude at the Sheikah woman’s devotion and inhabit it so that the present was her only world once again.
“No, I’m all right. We should keep moving – we need to go back to the reservoir, the one where I felt traces of my power. I have to make sure it will still hold water when we needed it.”
Impa nodded, though Zelda could see confusion flicker in her eyes for a moment before being replaced with acceptance.
“Do you think Guard and Sentry are still here in this iteration, Mistress?” Parasova asked. Zelda scooped her up from the top of the crate as she considered, walking back out of the office and heading for the exit.
“I don’t know. I – Saina – didn’t really keep track of what was happening in Cronellon while we were studying the Gate of Time and preparing to return. I know a lot of the robots from Cronellon joined us… if any didn’t, I suppose we’ll run into them. I should probably tell them to go north and meet the others.” She sighed. “I want to revive as many as I can while we’re here, as well. I owe them at least that much.”
“Understood, Mistress. But remember that you can’t afford to take too long!”
“I know.” With every day that passed, another day opened in the temporal gap between the moment the second Gate of Time, her Gate, was opened and the moment when Demise had been sealed away. Ghirahim had survived the divine clash and escaped his master’s imprisonment to wait a thousand years for Hylia’s return, for Zelda’s birth, and though she knew he couldn’t have escaped unscathed, that his aura had been dim enough or far enough away that she had not felt it as she lay dying, she didn’t know how long it had taken him to recover – how long she would have before he began hunting her just as he had in the future. Quite apart from that, the earlier she had the Gate open, the longer the timespan she would have to work with if she needed it… and the sooner, perhaps, hopefully, Link could rejoin her.
But what would he see if he did? Who would he see when he did? She’d fled from him to save her sense of self, her fragile memories of a past no mortal should know, and now she was – what? A goddess, a monster, a girl from Skyloft whose brief, happy memories felt all but drowned in all she had been and all she needed to do? She had loved him, and she had loved him, and she felt an echo of Saina’s half-scandalised, half-delighted amusement from all that time ago, that bright goddess Hylia was sweet on a mortal man.
Was any part of her herself any more?
When this is over, ran the thoughts that might have been Hylia’s, might have been Saina’s, might simply have been Zelda’s, I will be a girl from Skyloft again. She would lay aside the cares and the memories as best she could and try to go back to that simple life of promise, of wide horizons and curiosity enough to dare any barrier, of a future spent exploring with…
Had any part of her ever been herself?
Zelda kept her face turned away from Impa, now carrying Para, as she angrily scrubbed tears from her eyes, forcing herself to focus on the next step, and nothing more. She had to reinforce the reservoir with a power that would last a millennium, and after that, she had to find and revive as many robots as she could before she pressed on to Hylia’s war-ravaged lands, and to the Gate of Time.
If she focused on that, then she didn’t have to think about anything else.
Notes:
Lookit me, a whole three chapters in three weeks! Keep ‘em coming! (Well, maybe… Wish me luck!)
Patch Notes
- Reason provided for the existence of a monument in honour of a Triforce-bearing bird goddess who doesn’t live here.
- Temporal shenanigans now more subtly evident.
- Zelda now useful.
- Taping over someone’s memories and sense of self remains horrible.
Would it have killed them to make Zelda do something, anything on camera at any point in the game? The only time she has any agency, personality, or action is the intro-tutorial section! We could pretty much have had the whole rest of the game without her for all the impact she actually has on anything – it’s not like Link wouldn’t have fought a big world-eating monster anyway!
Chapter 65: Flood
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The red loftwing landed lightly on one of the landing platforms beside the Academy, and Link slid wearily from his back. He stood for a moment before walking around in front of the bird, wrapping his arms around his neck and simply leaning against him. With a soft, concerned crooning sound, the loftwing bent his head to lay his beak along Link’s back, a loftwing reflection of the human gesture.
With a long, shuddering breath, Link slowly drew away, petting his bird one last time before heading for the Academy doors. The loftwing watched in silent concern until he vanished inside, shutting the door gently behind himself.
As Link had feared, it was too late in the day for class. While a lot of the students were out and about in Skyloft proper, taking advantage of the remaining daylight, the halls were still busy, and he was noticed almost as soon as he’d stepped inside.
“Whoa, what happened to you?”
“That’s Link, isn’t it? Is he okay?”
“Link, are you all right? What happened?”
“Link’s back? Oh goddess, what happened to his leg?!”
His fellow students crowded around him as Link set his back to the wall, their well-meaning questions, shock, sympathies, explanations to each other all building into an indecipherable babble of sound. Too overwhelmed to work out any way to escape them short of pushing through them, he just gritted his teeth, head bowed, trying to outwait the assault, shaking his head to whatever questions he managed to catch, pushing away the couple of people who reached out to touch or inspect him or take his arm.
“Silence in the hall! Everybody stand back!” Instructor Owlan’s raised voice cut through the commotion like a knife, and Link had never in his entire life been so glad to hear one of the instructors shouting.
“What in the name of the goddess is this?” Owlan demanded rhetorically, the crowd parting rather shamefacedly ahead of him. “Knight Academy students should show discipline and restraint, as I know” – he pivoted, singling out Sperah, who had the grace to look embarrassed – “you all well know. Now, if none of you have anything better to do, there are kitchen chores to be done; the classrooms need a full cleaning; there’s at least one delivery still not fully carried down to the cellars…”
The crowd dissolved as Owlan started enumerating the Academy chores, fleeing to their bedrooms, outside, or else to the main isle of Skyloft before he could actually assign anyone one of the many tasks, and by the time he’d reached “...the training weapons and armour haven’t been checked for rust and cleaned yet this week…” the hall was empty, a last couple of pairs of feet vanishing up the stairs.
“There,” he said, with a kind of calm satisfaction. “That about deals with that. Sorry for the trouble, Link. You looked rather mobbed.”
Link nodded, relaxing a little as he looked at the kindly, if strict, instructor. “Thank you,” he managed quietly.
“You’re welcome. Now…” He looked Link up and down, and Link bore the scrutiny quietly. “You’re standing, so I assume you’ve taken a healing elixir since you did… whatever you did to get that.”
Appreciating the lack of questioning more than anything else in the world, Link nodded.
“Was there anything it couldn’t heal, or that healed wrong?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied, softly. He hadn’t really looked – or wanted to look – but Fi would doubtless have contradicted him if there had been something, and she remained silent.
“In that case, let me take you up to the baths. I know you must have a report for the Headmaster, but frankly, you do yourself and him no favours if you don’t take a little time to restore yourself. Unless you have news that can’t wait even half an hour?” The question was nothing but serious and well-meant, and Link thought for a moment before shaking his head, reluctantly.
“It’s… things are even more urgent now.” If that thing escapes again… It all but made him shudder just to think of it, and Instructor Owlan’s keen eyes caught the slight reaction, looking at him with concern. “But, no. The reason I came back so soon is because there’s supposed to be a clue of some sort hidden in the oldest songs of worship…” It sounded far more ridiculous to say to the instructor here in the peaceful Knight Academy than it had to hear from Mahra Impa after that horrifying battle. “Until I figure out what that is, I can’t…”
Owlan’s eyebrows lifted, but all he said was “Well, then we can catch two birds with one lure. Gaepora will probably want to ask Kaeber about something like that, so I’ll escort you up to the baths, then give him your message. That should give him some time to fetch Father Kaeber, and you’ll be able to speak to both of them when you’re done. Does that sound reasonable?”
Link nodded, feeling almost unreasonably grateful for Instructor Owlan’s straightforward, sensible solution. “It does. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Owlan said with a small smile. “Now, let’s get you upstairs.” He turned, glancing at Link briefly to match his weary pace, and walked beside him to the nearest staircase, subtly extending an elbow just enough that Link could have leant on his arm if he’d wanted to; making no comment when he didn’t. Together, instructor and student walked through the upstairs halls to the baths, a handful of other students scattering out of their way… whether because word of Owlan’s rebuke had got around, or whether because a voice trained to be heard shouting between loftwings in a gale could as easily be heard directly through half the Academy, Link wasn’t entirely sure.
At the baths, Owlan opened the door to the boys’ side and gestured for Link to wait in the changing area before striding through to the bath proper. Capable of shouting through the building or not, he could equally well be quiet as a zephyr when he wanted to be, and Link didn’t overhear whatever it was he said that soon had a double handful of dripping, towel-clad boys filing out and getting dressed, casting surreptitious, wide-eyed glances at Link, but not a single one daring to question him. Uncomfortable under the weight of their unasked questions, Link did his best to ignore them, but it was still a noticeable relief when the last one left, closing the door quietly behind him.
“I’ll fetch you some spare clothes, as well,” Owlan said. It was another thing that Link hadn’t even yet thought of and felt inexpressibly grateful for. “They’ll be through here by the time you’re ready. Now, is there anything else I can do?”
“I don’t think so, sir. Thank you.”
“It’s really the least I can do, Link. I have to agree with the reasoning, but I don’t like that all of this is resting on you. I can see quite clearly that you’re doing far more than we have any right to ask of you.”
Link glanced down, unsure of what to say, and as he did, Owlan let himself out. Whatever the instructors, or the Knight Commander himself, said, he wouldn’t have been able to turn away… but at the same time, Owlan’s sympathy, understanding, and concern were more welcome than he could possibly say.
Slowly, wincing a little at the various lingering aches that had only stiffened during his flight, Link stripped, dithering briefly over what to do with his ruined trousers before dropping them next to, rather than in, a laundry basket. There wasn’t going to be any salvaging those. Still avoiding looking too closely at himself, he turned towards the curtain and hesitated, glancing back at the sword, propped safely in a corner.
Fi…
Shaking his head, Link forced himself to turn away, stepping through into the bathroom itself, warm and somewhat steamy and thankfully empty of its former occupants. Without the Goddess Sword close to hand, he felt almost bereft, strangely vulnerable. If he couldn’t reach her at a moment’s notice, then…
“It’s the Academy. It’s safe,” he muttered to himself, climbing gingerly into the bath. Warm water swirled around him as he slowly sat down, a relaxing antidote to tired muscles. Still-wet bars of soap lay in various places on the side of the bath, and he picked one up, starting to slowly wash his face and hair. Every motion seemed to bring back a little normality to his life, making all his years in the Academy feel a little more real, drawing the thinnest of veils across the horror he and Fi had faced, and a tension he couldn’t have described and hadn’t entirely realised he was feeling began to abate.
Only when he’d scrubbed every part of himself other then his right leg did Link reluctantly lift it to inspect it, propping it on his raised left knee. Although his skin was whole, it was only after a fashion: almost burn-like marks, strangely faintly greyish, wreathed his leg where the tendrils of darkness had touched, broken by a single sword-straight pale line where he’d held the Goddess Sword to it. He ran a finger across one of the marks gingerly: it felt very slightly different to the rest of his skin, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could feel the touch of his fingertip quite as well as he should have been able to. It was all wrong, utterly wrong; it didn’t fit with the peaceful life at the Academy he had so tenuously recovered – and all at once the horror of it all crashed in on him, stronger than ever after the hours he’d half-unconsciously held it off: the sheer yawning hunger that would have consumed him and all the world beside, the sucking shadow, the towering half-formed void with feet of unnatural bone, the impossible sight of it splitting itself into nothing but gaping maw, and always clawing at his every sense the sheer unnatural unstoppable devouring hunger. Dropping his foot back into the bath with a splash, Link curled forwards, pressing his hands to his face, tears escaping through tight-closed eyelids, even his very thoughts inarticulate in the face of the horror in his memory.
In the anteroom, the spirit of the sword felt his incoherent and wordless thoughts, something akin to an unending mental scream. Despite an unsubstantiated sense that assessing the subject too closely would risk inducing a processing error in herself simultaneously, Fi analysed possible courses of action at lightning speed. Her master had indicated that social customs surrounding bathing applied to her. One of her earliest instructions had been to choose freely whether to appear outside the sword, with an implied suggestion that she choose to do so at least semi-frequently. Her master had repeatedly indicated, the words confirmed by the changes in his emotional state, that he found her visible presence comforting. Additionally, he had considered taking the sword with him into the bathroom despite the multiple injunctions of both social custom and standard weapons care forbidding it.
There was a probability that her visible presence would not be welcome, but Fi calculated it to be below thirty percent with the admittedly incomplete information that she possessed. Projecting herself from the sword, she drifted intangibly through the curtain separating the two rooms, floating to her master’s side and adopting a kneeling position just above the surface of the water.
Eyes screwed shut, Link didn’t see her.
“Master Link.”
The words didn’t startle him as much as they should have, Fi’s musical voice, half-heard, half-felt, slipping into his mind as much as a sense of safety, protection, and companionship as they did as actual words.
“Master Link, I detect that my presence may be of assistance.” She paused for a fraction of a second, searching her database for an appropriate phrase.
“I am here.”
Notes:
A little late to post, but not bad considering I was away for effectively four days last week over New Year! I had the image of everything just collapsing on poor Link in the bath all week, but didn’t have time to write it up until, well, pretty much today. (I hear where I should give myself both a bit more buffer and a bit more time to actually revise, but at least I have a Floor Owl to beta-read for me? That’s like having drafting time, right?)
Patch Notes
- Injuries continue to have consequences, like half your stuff being ripped and covered in blood. People now notice this.
- Responsible adults continue to at least try to be helpful.
- Trauma.
Chapter 66: The Song of Dedication
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Slowly, slowly, the nightmare began to fade. The warm water against his skin registered again, heated by the ovens below; the rippling of the water as it flowed from and into unseen pipes; the familiar muffled sounds of the Academy going about its daily life; loftwings calling in the sky outside. Feeling incredibly drained, Link slowly lowered his hands slightly and opened his eyes.
That Fi was floating beside him, not-quite-kneeling just above the surface of the water with her head not far from his own, came as no surprise.
“Thanks, Fi…”
Taking a shuddering breath, he splashed his face, then ran dripping hands down it, washing away stickiness along with what felt like a residue of horror. The all-consuming hunger he had faced still existed, still waited below the clouds and filled his recent memories, but it no longer devoured his every thought. For now, he was far from it, in the Knight Academy, his loftwing pacing concerned-anxious-afraid-relieved somewhere outside, and all he needed to do was speak to Headmaster Gaepora about ancient songs… as soon as he could. How long had he been there?
“...Fi, could you…”
With the return of something more like normality had come a certain amount of self-conscious embarrassment. Inclining her head, Fi ‘stood’ and retreated, drifting backwards away from the bath, dropping to the level of the floor once she was no longer over it. Near the entrance, she considered for an instant, then rotated 180 degrees, turning implausibly in the air to put her back to Link.
“Are this position and orientation suitable, Master?”
“Yeah.” Despite his relief that she hadn’t left, or perhaps because of it; because of his gratitude to her for being there for him, her voice and presence the one sliver of comfort he could still hold on to in the blackness of horror, his embarrassment redoubled. “If- if that’s okay with you. I really… I’m really grateful you came here for me. It… ...helped.” He had no words to express how much; could only hope that Fi, aware of his thoughts to at least some extent, could tell.
“You are welcome. My purpose is to assist you.”
“I’m still grateful.” Not sure he could have explained his thoughts to her if he’d tried, Link sighed, looking down into the water for the soap he’d been holding. However long he’d been sitting there, it had been long enough for it to turn into something of a mushy lump, and he grimaced, scooping it up and depositing it on the side, using the residue on his hands to quickly finish washing. Fi said nothing, infinitely patient, still facing away as he climbed out and began to dry himself off. She rotated as he moved, keeping her back turned to him until he brushed past the curtain to the changing room.
Someone, presumably Instructor Owlan, had brought him a change of uniform and even a pair of boots. A strip of paper resting atop them proved it: Link picked it up to read
“These should be about your size. Your spare pair weren’t in your room. -Owlan”
Not only had the instructor saved him from the crowd of fellow students and taken a message to the headmaster for him, he’d also bothered to search Link’s room for his spare boots, then fetch a pair from the Academy stores? Link’s gratitude to his teacher went up another notch, and he dressed quickly, pulling the boots on last. He would have wanted a second pair of socks before fighting in them, he guessed, but for walking around the Academy they would be fine.
Turning, Link was unsurprised to find Fi floating near the sword, watching him once again.
“We’d better go and see Headmaster Gaepora. Are you ready?”
In reply, Fi vanished back into the sword in a flash of light, with that half-felt, half-heard chime.
I am always ready, Master.
Link picked the sword up and strapped it back on, buckling belt and baldric securely together. He crossed back to the door and hesitated for a moment before beginning to lift his hand to the handle, then paused again.
“Thanks for everything, Fi.”
The spirit of the sword said nothing, but Link knew she had heard. Gathering his resolve to face the Academy again, he opened the door and stepped out.
The corridor was, thankfully, relatively quiet, and although he was definitely seen – one group of students from the class below pointed at him and immediately began whispering to one another – no-one approached him. Relieved to not be immediately mobbed, Link hurried to the headmaster’s office, knocking loudly on the heavy door.
“Come in.”
Easing the door open and closing it quietly behind him, Link found Headmaster Gaepora and Father Kaeber both standing by the bookcases, a pile of old-looking books stacked on the headmaster’s desk. Seeing them together, Link was struck by how alike they looked: Kaeber was slightly slimmer than Gaepora, and despite being also largely bald had a little more hair remaining; he had no moustache and a bit more of a beard; but it would have been obvious they were brothers even if Link hadn’t already known.
“Blessings of the goddess on you, young Link,” Father Kaeber greeted him.
“And welcome back,” Headmaster Gaepora said. “It’s good to see you all in one piece. Instructor Owlan said you’d had a hard time of it.”
Link glanced away. How could he speak of the horror he’d faced? How could he even begin to explain it? “I… I’ll write a report about it, Headmaster.” He swallowed, pressing on. “The thing Fi called the shadow of apocalypse… it’s trapped outside the temple, the one I landed at the first time. But it’s breaking free. We stopped it, for now. But, to do anything more, I’m supposed to find a way to temper my sword in ‘sacred flames’.” He glanced over his shoulder at the pale hilt, reassuring in its simple presence. “The old lady, Mahra Impa, said there were supposed to be clues hidden in our oldest songs of worship, because the Sheikah hadn’t been told about them in case… Ghirahim found out.”
Father Kaeber listened almost wide-eyed, glancing once at Headmaster Gaepora, who was following Link’s words every bit as intently.
“That last part Instructor Owlan told me,” Gaepora mused, “but, hmm, sacred flames…”
At the repetition of the phrase, Father Kaeber abruptly interjected, almost talking over his brother. “Sacred flames, or perhaps the flames of virtue? Courage; Wisdom; Power: these are the sacred virtues, dear to the goddess, as well as to the Golden Goddesses themselves.”
“But the flames of virtue… That’s a line from the melody of dedication, isn’t it?” Gaepora’s voice rose, excited. “You and I sat down with Zelda and talked her through the full lyrics and the song’s history, even though we don’t sing it fully at the Wing Ceremony! Now, what was that line? I never was much of a singer…”
“Father Kaeber, do you know?” Link interrupted. He couldn’t help himself.
“I do believe I do, young Link.” Father Kaeber cleared his throat, perhaps just a little pleased to have outdone his brother in something.
“Chosen of the goddess,
Must yet seek virtue’s flame,
Finds sibling sails that catch the wind,
And shows them both the way.
A bright tower a beacon,
Our goddess’ radiant heart,
Keeps the song the chosen’s seeking,
So shows to him the path.”
His singing voice was a mellow baritone, volume perfectly chosen to fill the room without overwhelming his audience: a lifetime of singing the goddess’ praise had given him excellent training.
Chosen of the goddess must yet seek virtue’s flame- “That has to be it!” Link faltered, aware he’d just spoken across both of them again, but the two older men only looked at him kindly, Father Kaeber gesturing for him to continue. “Father Kaeber, please, will you write it down for me?”
“Of course. I’m always glad to be able to show the younger generation something of the goddess’ love… never mind if it will help you in a holy quest. Why, when Gaepora first came and told me, I almost couldn’t believe it. Chosen by the goddess…”
Link shifted his weight slightly, uncomfortable.
“So what about the rest, then?” Headmaster Gaepora asked. “Sibling sails, and so forth? A bright tower, a beacon, sounds a bit like the Light Tower over on Skyloft; there’s nothing quite like it anywhere in the sky. But we have plenty of siblings here in this very academy with sailcloths.”
“Ah,” Father Kaeber said, holding up a finger. “But sailcloths typically ride the wind, rather than catch it. Besides, if this truly is the clue we’re looking for, then it would have to be a set of sails that could be expected to last a thousand years.”
“You’re right,” Headmaster Gaepora mused. “Well, I suppose that narrows it down. What on this island has lasted a thousand years, physically or metaphorically? The Wing Ceremony, of course, metaphorically. The Goddess Statue on her island, physically. The Light Tower, now that I think about it. Some of the plumbing, believe it or not.”
“What?” Link had to ask.
“Oh, the Academy plumbing is quite ancient, as is the heart of the building itself. It’s said our ancestors were helped to build it by robots, like the one you found on the surface, in olden times. Not just the plumbing, either: a lot of things that require electricity date back…” He trailed off, thinking.
“Headmaster?”
“And all the electricity,” the Headmaster mused, “comes from the windmills. Oh, most of them are newer by various centuries, but the first two… I wonder if you shouldn’t take a look at them. Supposedly the builders of those windmills, and the Light Tower, spoke to the goddess herself.”
“So the sacred texts tell us,” Father Kaeber confirmed. “For before the goddess first sent her people into the sky, she would even walk amongst them, radiant in her love for us. Only to protect us did she set herself apart, in raising our islands to where we live today, and it was in her name and by her wish that all those first buildings were built.”
Fi briefly assessed the utility of imparting additional information against the probability of a negative effect on the emotional states of all present, and decided against it.
“Sibling sails that catch the wind and have lasted a thousand years… you couldn’t get much closer than a pair of windmills,” Headmaster Gaepora went on. “If it does refer to the Light Tower, then it only seems reasonable that the other element might be buildings on the same island. And if it does mean those windmills, then it’s likely the rest will become clearer once you’ve examined them and the Light Tower.”
“I’ll write the song down this instant so you can take it with you,” Father Kaeber declared, excited. “Gaepora, may I use your desk?”
“Of course!”
Father Kaeber quickly settled himself in the big chair, taking up a pen and writing swiftly in an elegant, flowing script. Verse after verse trailed from his pen, without recourse to any of the books nearby: he had, seemingly, committed the song to memory. When he’d finished, he blotted the paper quickly, then held it out to Link.
“There you are,” he said as Link accepted the proffered notes. “Most remarkable… I never would have dreamt that our song of dedication might hold a secret for you within its stories. It tells several of them, you know, and they can each be seen from multiple angles. If you have time in the future, I’d be more than happy to discuss them with you.”
“Thank you, Father Kaeber,” Link said, glancing quickly over the lyrics in his hand. The section they’d discussed had been helpfully highlighted by a vertical line in the margin, but it was clear that the song went on for a lot longer. “Headmaster… may I investigate the windmills before I write my report?”
“Of course, Link. After all, we don’t even know yet that it is those windmills, or even this song. The sooner we can gather enough evidence to know one way or the other, the better. I very much want to hear your report, or at least read it, but… It seems as though it would do you good to put some more time between it and events, as well.”
Link nodded, grateful to the Headmaster for the restraint he could hear in his voice. “Thank you, Headmaster. And thank you, Father Kaeber. Thank you both very much.”
Notes:
I wasn’t quite sure where this one was going to stop right up until I got to the end of it and thought actually, no, that’s a pretty fine place for a pause. And I still made it almost on time, too! Also, look, Gaepora still remembers Link exists and has problems even though his daughter is still missing.
Patch Notes
- Most knowledgeable man in the sky no longer incapable of solving basic riddle solved easily by other residents of Skyloft.
- Basic riddle made slightly less basic and much less blatant-set-of-instructions-anyone-could-try; converted to singable form in current language. (I don’t know if the original lines were a bit more singable in Japanese?)
- Song now notably longer than literally just two verses one of which is instructions.
- Gaepora doesn’t actually know everything. Just lots of things.
- Headmaster no longer listens to entire explanation before noting how hard things must be for Zelda and tacking on “and it can’t be too easy for you now either, can it” like an afterthought. Especially not right after what is now the hunger argh.
- Reason implied for the highly implausible endlessly running bathwater on waterless tiny island to actually work.
Chapter 67: Behind the Familiar
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Father Kaeber’s lyrics stowed securely in his pouch, Link hurried across the southern bridge to Skyloft. He hadn’t left for the surface until after noon, and after the hours spent flying to the gap in the clouds and back, together with however long he’d actually spent on the surface – or in the bath – it was already late in the day, but he hoped, if he was quick, he could make it to at least one of the windmills with enough time for himself and Fi to study it.
He knew which ones Headmaster Gaepora had been talking about, of course: everyone did. Among the oldest unaltered buildings in Skyloft, it was widely said that the twin windmills, one on either side of the island, had always been there. Built with an archaic elegance that only the oldest buildings could match, they turned year in and year out, always facing into the wind, always spinning gently, almost silently but for the sound of the wind winding around them and the gentle swish of the tips of their graceful sails. They had been there forever, almost forgotten in their sheer permanence: if one fell off the side of the island, it would be nearly as shocking and unnatural as if the moon had dropped out of the sky, or the Goddess Statue vanished from her place watching over the goddess’ people.
The nearer windmill was the western one, south of the Academy and northeast of the plaza and the Light Tower. Link’s shadow stretched out beside him as he walked, the sun sinking low on the western horizon. The broad avenue he walked along ran parallel to the south-western edge of Skyloft, terraces of houses with carefully kept roof gardens facing onto it, lining the bottom of Market Hill. Well-tended trees grew alongside it at intervals, mostly on the skyward side. Big and sturdy enough to climb, Link had always thought they were huge… but after the forest that grew on the surface, they seemed stunted and twisted, gnarled old trunks short and squat compared to those below. He slowed briefly as he passed one, looking up into its low-hanging branches. The tree itself hadn’t changed, and yet…
Shaking his head, he moved on, nodding politely or exchanging the occasional “good evening” with people he passed, stopping for none of them. The windmill seemed to rise before him as he neared it, the subtle downward slope of the avenue deceptive, its slender sails shaped almost like birds’ wings turning slowly in the wind. Perhaps twice his own height across at the base, it tapered gently as it rose before flaring slightly again at the top where the sails were anchored, capped with a pointed dome. A hatch, rather than a door, marked its side, and Link doubted there was space inside it to do more than sit awkwardly. On the short cylindrical section of the upper bulge a shield-shaped dark blue panel reflected the sinking sunlight, while elsewhere the primarily zigzag decorative patterns had clearly been painted a variety of colours over the years: the paint was chipped in places, and below the present-day’s blue Link could see a hint of green, of red, of another shade of blue…
“Can you sense anything here, Fi?”
Analysing, Master. There was a brief pause before she spoke again, and Link imagined he could feel her attention focused on the windmill, assessing it from bottom to top in a way he never could. Yes. I have updated my assessment of the probability that this windmill is relevant to you to 98%. The design and construction is consistent with that found in the Lanayru Desert, other than some material substitutions of negligible relevance. The windmill is a sophisticated electrical generator designed to turn toward the prevailing winds and require extremely low maintenance. However, there are additional mechanisms within the structure that are not necessary for, nor directly relevant to, its primary function. The reflective panels near the top of the windmill conceal optical emitters capable of transmitting complex signals. These panels are capable of rotating independently of the rest of the system, with a control mechanism located within the windmill itself. You will need to access the windmill in order to reorient the panels.
“All right!” Whatever moving the panels would do, that there was some part of the windmill that didn’t seem to have anything to do with its purpose was enough for Link to feel that he had to be on the right track. He stepped closer, studying the hatch. While there were no obvious bolts or latches, there was a recessed handle and a keyhole near the bottom, covered by a little flap, presumably to keep the rain out.
I detect that the lock on this hatch may be opened either manually, using a key, or electronically, using a transmitted signal. I am capable of transmitting such a signal. Do you wish me to open the hatch?
Just like the doors in the desert, Link thought. “Please, Fi. Thank you.”
He heard a click from within the hatch, and slid his fingers into the recessed handle, experimentally pulling upwards and outwards. Rather than opening on a hinge, it slid upwards into the windmill, more smoothly than he had quite expected, revealing a cramped, dark space within. Thick wires snaked down the back wall, while panels on left and right had been added to with what looked like paper notes, tied to various places with string. The string-attached notes looked so incongruous in the cramped interior that Link blinked, then, without thinking, crawled inside to read them.
‘Press the button on the left under the screen to turn it on. The label has rubbed off.
Original note written in the 479th year of the sky. Last rewritten 940 YS. If you turn it on it will show you how well the windmill is doing. See Note 25 to the right.’
His jaw dropped as he looked through them, each dated with a year since Skyloft’s raising, almost all painstakingly copied from other notes, stretching back centuries into the past. Some were simple; others were laborious, multi-stage series of instructions.
“Wow…”
It is apparent that the engineers who have worked on this windmill have noted the inefficiency of the oral tradition. I speculate that, due to the rarity of maintenance events, and the fact that this space is typically hermetically sealed, successive engineers have determined that leaving physical notes in the location to be maintained is more efficient than requiring student engineers to memorise all related knowledge.
“I guess so.” Something about the collection of notes was almost touching, tips and instructions for the engineers’ successors passed down through generations after generations. How many people had written or copied a note not even knowing who would read it after them? As Fi’s stories had, it made the history of Skyloft seem real, rather than simply the way the world had always been… and it made the existence of the same ancient technology he had seen in the desert real and immediate, not just something from far away, but something that had always existed, that had been there silently turning for him to walk past without noticing most weeks since he’d entered the Academy.
“I never thought…”
He felt the infinitesimal pause that was Fi considering her response.
The generation of electricity did not feature notably in your education at the Knight Academy, and it is apparent that it is not widely studied upon Skyloft. There was no reason for you to.
“No… But how much else is like that here? There seems to be so much that none of us gave any thought to. If I hadn’t had to do all this, I probably would never even have thought of the windmill except as a landmark. But people have been working on it and keeping it alive all this time.” Link blew out a breath, setting several notes fluttering on their strings. “How much more is there, Fi?”
That is unknown at this time, Master Link. However, if you seek a more obvious example, consider that rock does not naturally float.
“Rock does not…” Of course rock didn’t float. If he threw a pebble into the river, it would fall through the air, hit the water, and sink to the bottom. If the side of the island crumbled, the rock and everything on it would most likely fall into the clouds below. And…
His mental perspective shifted, almost dizzying. He’d been on the surface, land stretching away in every direction as endless as the sky, making Skyloft look small by comparison. Rock does not naturally float, but Skyloft did, and always had; Spindrift did; all the other islands did, and it was just a simple everyday fact – until it wasn’t, because rocks did not naturally float, rocks had never naturally floated, and again he remembered Fi relating how the goddess in all her might and glory had torn the islands from the surface and raised them into the sky, there to stay above the clouds and keep her people safe, held forever with her power. Not a legend but reality, one that had endured for a thousand years.
“Fi…” Link whispered.
The glow of the sword over his shoulder brightened slightly, though there was no room for Fi to appear in the cramped space.
Yes, Master Link?
“It’s so much.”
The sword itself made a sound, somewhere between Fi’s whistling chime and a faint, tuning-fork hum. Link wondered if she was trying to comfort him, finding another way to demonstrate her presence since she couldn’t hover beside him the way she had more and more as their travels went on. Whether she was or not, the thought that she might be trying to help warmed his heart, somehow making the immensity of it all more manageable once again.
Why did the goddess choose me? The question hovered in his mind, but he pushed it aside. He wasn’t sure how much more immensity he could handle dealing with, from the sudden strangeness of familiar Skyloft to the shadow of apocalypse that lurked below.
“How do I rotate the panels?” he asked instead. “I don’t see anything about that in any of the notes here.” Perhaps, if he turned around to look at the other set- but Fi forestalled that thought with her response.
No information about the rotating panels is present upon any of these notes. I detect that the controls that operate the panels are located on a secondary control panel that can only be accessed by releasing a catch on the side of the panel behind you and lifting it at the right-hand end. It appears that these controls were deliberately concealed when the windmill was constructed, further increasing my estimate of the probability that this was intended for you to discover.
Link tried not to think too hard about that as he squirmed around in the cramped space. The other panel looked much like the first, similarly adorned with notes, although there was no large screen on it as there had been on the other. He could feel Fi drawing his attention to the narrow gap between its edge and the back wall, and slipped the fingers of his right hand into the hole. They fit with room to spare, and as he felt around, he felt a mid-sized catch beneath them. Encouraged by the confirmation, he pressed it, and both heard and felt it flick into a new position. The right-hand side of the panel lifted slightly, and, gripping it, Link gently, carefully, pulled it upwards, swinging it up on a hinge at its left-hand end just enough to reveal a second, smaller panel amidst a nest of wires beneath. It would only rise to an angle of thirty degrees or so, but it was enough to let him – however awkwardly – peer in.
The second panel held a circular shape with a mark in it and a compass rose at the centre, oriented to point due north. Three buttons, and only three, were arranged around it: two below and one to the right. Each one bore a dusty label in archaic text:
‘ROTATE
LEFT RIGHT’
‘LOCK/UNLOCK’
“I guess… unlock?” Link whispered. Fi didn’t contradict him, and, mentally asking the goddess’ favour, he pressed the button.
There was a faint series of clunks from somewhere above.
Master, I can confirm that the panels in the shape of a shield have reconfigured themselves into two visually separate components.
“I hope that means it’s unlocked. And I guess I can move them right or left… where should I point them?” Link withdrew his hand, reaching into his pouch for Father Kaeber’s folded lyrics, squinting at them in the dim light.
“Finds sibling sails that catch the wind and shows them both the way, a bright tower a beacon…” he read out, still whispering. “The way to what? The Light Tower, maybe?” What direction is that in…? He knew roughly – southeast – but how accurately would he have to rotate the windmill’s strange panels? “I’ll try it, but… Fi, can you tell me when it’s pointing the right way?”
Yes, Master. Link felt her attention shift, as if she were looking up to the top of the windmill. Tucking the lyrics safely away again, he made the symbol of the goddess for luck, and pressed down on the ‘RIGHT’ button.
From somewhere above there was a clanking, followed by the slow and squeaky rattling of some strange machinery being very reluctantly forced into motion. The marker in the compass ring began to move counterclockwise, slowly rotating around from the west, to the south, to the south-east. Link released the button, hesitated, pressed it again briefly. Again.
Master, the panels are now oriented directly towards the Light Tower. I recommend engaging the locking mechanism.
“Got it.” Link pressed the lock button again, and another series of faint clunks followed. Moments later, he felt Fi register something happening, so that he knew almost before she spoke.
The panels have reconfigured into the shield shape you previously observed. The optical emitters are active and drawing power from the windmill to transmit a repeating signal to the Light Tower.
“We did it!” Excited or not, Link still remembered to press the raised panel back into place, locking it with the hidden catch, its various notes swaying on their strings at the motion. “Thanks, Fi. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
As he twisted again and scrambled backwards out of the windmill, he heard her reply.
You are welcome, Master.
Notes:
Just enough time to look at a windmill! And to be slightly mindblown by how real history actually is, and the immensity of it all. Sometimes the everyday is only everyday because you just don’t think about it.
Patch Notes
- Pointless windmill continues to have a purpose.
- It is now possible to turn the relevant segment of the windmill rather than the entire thing, which would rather impede its use as a windmill depending on the current wind direction.
- Shield design and light made critical part of Light-Tower-related functionality instead of “game signal you got the puzzle right”.
- Windmill no longer turned by blatantly hand-crankable mechanism. Any future broken parts will not be obviously replaceable by a hand crank.
- Plot elements unused in game now utilised here to explain windmill functionality.
Chapter 68: Reflection
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link had reluctantly retreated to the Knight Academy after Fi pointed out that the second windmill would already be in the shadow of Market Hill, and even if he did manage to reorient it in the last of the fading light, it would be dark by the time he reached the Light Tower. Not only would he be unable to see, he would be vulnerable to the hazards of the Skyloft night. Conceding her point, he’d walked back, finding the grounds of the Academy thankfully largely empty. Rather than brave the dining hall for a meal, he’d picked up the lunch he hadn’t eaten along with his armour, taking everything he could clean and care for out to the empty training hall.
As he’d hoped, there was no-one there, the building that so often rang with the sound of training swords on one another or on practice dummies silent and peaceful. Link’s footsteps broke the silence one by one, each raising the slightest echo in the empty hall, tinted faintly golden with the light of the sinking sun. Training dummies on their sturdy posts gazed sightlessly past him, more complex and mobile equipment racked along the walls still and silent.
The door to the back room creaked open under his hand, the familiar smells of worn metal and leather, polish and oil almost as much of a guide to its contents as the dim light from the little window, facing away from the setting sun. Picking his way through the shadows, he gratefully dropped the chainmail he’d been carrying over his arm into a sand barrel, trading it for oil and rags. Outside, his loftwing landed on the roof, still tense with energy the red bird had had no way to spend.
Want to help out today?
The red loftwing’s affirmative was so instant and immediate that Link smiled, putting the rest of his things down briefly to put the lid on the barrel and secure it firmly in place. That done, he tipped it on its side and rolled it to, then out of, the back door, leaving it in the little fenced area outside while he went back for everything else. By the time he’d retrieved his leathers, oil, and rags, adding a bucket of water and some soap as well, his loftwing had already landed, stalking about the tiny yard prodding the barrel around, now with a foot, now with his beak, watching it wobble and roll. It was a simple game that usually entertained chicks more than adults, but it gave the loftwing something to do that also helped Link, and that alone was enough to make it interesting to his loyal bird.
Link sat down on one of the low benches in the sun, another tight-drawn knot of tension in the back of his mind beginning to slowly relax. Turning first to the soap and water, he gave his vambraces a thorough scrub before setting them aside to dry, his loftwing still engaged in rolling the chainmail back and forth. The Goddess Sword slid smoothly from its sheath, and Link held the blade before him, resting on the flat of his right hand, inspecting it minutely for any dirt or grime. As always, he could see none, the sword as pristine as it had been the moment he first drew it below the Statue of the Goddess. Nonetheless, he dampened another cloth and began to work it slowly and carefully along the blade, first on one side, then the other. The simple chore was soothing, as it had been before, needing nothing more than patience and focus, slowly building another thin barrier between Link and all he had so recently faced.
He turned the sword, resting it carefully across his knees, to work on the hilt, cleaning it inch by careful inch. A realisation he had more or less already come to rose into his mind, and he spoke it softly, without quite thinking.
“They’re your memories, aren’t they, Fi? The things I see and feel when I raise the sword… it’s him, isn’t it?”
The sword seemed to shine briefly, so faintly it would have been easy to mistake for a reflection in the setting sun.
The act of raising the sword triggers an increase in the strength and intensity of its bond to you, permitting you to directly access an increased proportion of its power. This feature was designed so that you would be able to access greater power than is needed for standard circumstances even if you had no information upon how to do so: if, for example, my personality had become critically damaged such that I was unable to communicate with you. It is apparent that the temporary increase in intensity continues to cause unanticipated side-effects… for both of us.
Link nodded, gently turning the sword over to work on the other side of the hilt. “You didn’t expect it either, huh?”
He couldn’t see her, but he still pictured Fi’s slightly slow headshake, elegant and graceful as all her motions. No. Such an effect was not anticipated in my design. Additionally, I am currently unable to determine a method of reducing the effect without also reducing the intensity of the connection to a degree that would render the increase in power flow negligible. Under specific circumstances, the probability of it inducing a critical processing error is greater than 95%.
Her silent voice was musical, but there was a stillness to Link’s sense of her that he had come to recognise: not the brittle flatness from the times he had faced Ghirahim, but something that could approach it, as if Fi were recognising a precipice in the distance. For the first time, Link thought he could recognise it too.
“It’s okay, Fi.” Link spoke gently, his hand unconsciously falling still on the hilt of the sword. “It’s… I know it’s hard.” He hesitated for a moment; continued. “People say, if you lose your loftwing, it’s like having a hole ripped through you. Like there’s nothing where the sky should be. And you… you were even closer to him than that, weren’t you.”
The silence stretched out, but Link didn’t feel it as an absence. It felt as though Fi was thinking, or something, inside the sword, still with him as she thought over what he had said before responding.
His extrapolation, had Fi assessed it, was in this case fully correct. Link’s gentle words had outlined the flaw in her in a way she could not have done herself, and other than minor semantic differences she could not immediately improve upon the description. There was a critical moment in her history where all of her thoughts and analyses simply ended in a gaping chasm, chains of logic lost and irretrievable, a hole ripped through her mind. There were aspects of her own past that the damage to her prevented her from directly confronting. It was highly unexpected that a description founded in human emotion would be able to describe the situation so accurately and succinctly. Was this, in itself, an aspect of the damage? Or was it a utility of emotive language that Link had been able to employ far more accurately than she due to his extensive experience? Even an imperfectly expressed and only semi-accurate external diagnostic would have been of significant value, and the one he had offered was neither of those things.
Like there’s nothing where the sky should be, she thought again, considering the words, and the fragments of emotion that had accompanied them. She did not, typically, risk thinking directly of the problem; did not ‘look at the sky’ lest the error once again result in processing failure. She had had some success in thinking around it, re-routing her analyses through less direct chains of logic that did not cause her to confront the nothing where the sky should be. Even that was a highly flawed and fallible countermeasure, and not always applicable, but she had been able to construct nothing better.
Master. When Fi eventually ‘spoke’, her silently musical voice was quiet in a way Link had never encountered before. Your description shows an almost 98% correlation to the damage to my processing faculty. This external diagnostic may be of high utility. She paused for a moment, and her next words seemed, in some ineffable manner, closer to her usual dispassionate tones without quite reaching them. You are correct that the bond with my wielder was, and is, closer than that of a rider to their loftwing. Whilst I am fully capable of independent thought, I was not designed for active function without a wielder. My primary purpose is the assistance of that wielder in all situations.
Another breath of silence passed, Link giving her words the weighting they seemed to deserve. Everything she was seemed to be bound up with him, or with the brave warrior before him whose life and death Link had, perhaps, glimpsed in flashes and fragments through Fi’s mind.
“It’s okay that you miss him,” he said softly. “I don’t… that sounds… I don’t think you could lose something like that and not be affected by it. I know it probably isn’t the right word, but at least as much as you worry about me, or you respect Bead’s people, you miss him, and something terrible happened to him, and it… hurts.”
Small as it was, the final word, processed through Fi’s connection to her master, held an expanse of meaning, registering as an incomplete reference to the abyss in her thoughts.
“I wouldn’t want to remember it either. I don’t even want to think about some of the things we’ve done. Just thinking about it earlier… it was like being back there.” Even the thought had Link suddenly hyper-aware of his right leg, almost wanting to scratch it just to feel normal, or prove to himself he could still feel anything other than pain or numbness in it, and only the fact that his hands were still resting on the sword subconsciously stayed him. “So I understand, if it’s like that. I think if anything it must be worse.”
Once again, Fi considered his words, analysed in the context of a necessary analogy. It was disconcerting to determine that she had no better words for what it formed an analogy to than those of the analogy itself. However, it was simultaneously a positive development. She finally possessed the capacity to frame the problem, albeit imperfectly. A defined error was an error that could be analysed and ultimately cleared, and both she and Link would be able to refine the definition in future moments such as this.
There is a significant similarity, she agreed, remembering as Link did the long period of time in the Academy baths, now only a confused horror in his recollection, a secondary abyss in memory replacing the vortex that, at the time, had formed in his thoughts. Her social and cultural database did not include a means to erase such drastic effects. However, Link had unexpectedly, and without additional input from herself, provided an accurate diagnostic of her internal errors. There was a small, but non-zero, probability that he might possess further information on the topic. The benefit if he did was potentially high, despite the low probability of success.
Master Link, she began, and Link thought he felt a fractional hesitation. Are you aware of any methods for erasing or negating the impact of such responses?
“What, of…” Link shook his head slowly. “No. I think if anyone knew how, everyone would want to. The only thing people say you can do is be there for someone. And, I guess, time.” But we don’t have time… not enough time for this. “You’ve done a lot for me just by being here, Fi. And if it helps even a little, I’ll be here for you, too. I know it’s not the same, but… I hope it will help.”
The lack of information had been fully expected. Even so, certainty that there was no known immediate method of clearing the error registered, given its magnitude, as a minor setback, although even the briefest of assessments determined that it was of minimal significance in comparison to the primary development.
You have already been of assistance, Master. I did not previously possess the ability to directly describe the processing errors I have experienced in any form. This development alone increases the probability of successfully mitigating the damage, whether or not it is possible to fully repair it within the duration of our mission.
Link smiled, finally setting the damp cloth aside and reaching for a new one for the oil. “I’m glad I helped.”
A companionable silence fell as Link continued his careful, unnecessary maintenance, the red loftwing, tired of the chainmail barrel, perching contentedly by the fence, sword and wielder quiet in the last red-gold rays of the setting sun.
Notes:
Descending from the sky in a blaze of lightning like a really over-dramatic god begging for attention, I’m back! And it’s only been… uh… two months. Ouch. After June this should happen a lot less – someone else will be taking over the specific thing that keeps demanding all my time, attention, and brainpower. Fingers crossed.
Aaaanyway. I bring to you the chapter I’ve waited a long time to write; I’ve been pressing to get to this one since several chapters ago!
Patch Notes
- Link and Fi continue to actually display mutual character development and bonding through their interactions.
- Loftwings still relevant and important part of people’s lives.
- Plot threads from the backstory continue to appear organically.
- Characters continue to react to all the horrible, traumatic things they've been through.
You may note that Fi neither confirms nor denies who these memories actually belong to. Really, they’re as much his as hers, echoing faintly from the other side of a barrier that really should be thicker than it currently is, summoned and amplified by Fi’s memories but not purely hers alone. I’m sure this will never affect any other wielders of the sword in the future, either. Definitely.
Chapter 69: Setbacks
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Despite his tiredness, Link’s sleep had been broken and fitful, haunted by a looming shadow that was all too real. He woke to the early morning sun, getting out of bed with a resigned haste, and dressed with his back turned to the Goddess Sword, which he’d placed across his desk. Cleaned and oiled, his armour lay beside the bed, but he left it aside for the time being: he wouldn’t be going anywhere but Skyloft until he found out what the Light Tower had to show him. Whether or not to take Fi, of course, wasn’t even a decision, and he left his room still fastening the last buckle, the sword resting across his back.
To his relief, the corridors were relatively quiet, the morning bell as yet unrung. Descending the stairs, Link passed a couple of tired-looking students who glanced at him and then hastily turned back to their previous conversation. Instructor Owlan’s rebuke had clearly made an impact – and Link was nothing but grateful for it.
“...swear, it must have gone on most of the night.”
“Who do you think it was?”
“I dunno, one of the younger students, maybe? I just wish…”
The half-heard conversation dwindled behind him as he hurried to the dining hall. Breakfast was still being prepared, steaming hot and only half-ready, but Henya beckoned him into the kitchen to take as much as he wanted from the things that were, only allowing him to leave when he’d stacked almost more than he thought he could eat onto his tray – and with a promise that his lunch would be packed and waiting for him soon.
Picking a seat by the wall, Link settled down to eat. He was hungrier than he’d quite realised, but even focusing on the fresh, hot meal, he found himself still aware of the double handful of other students in the room, sitting and eating or walking in – and one of them, in particular, coming closer, walking up behind him.
Link twisted around in his chair to see Cawlin just a couple of steps away. The short, chubby student’s expression flickered for a moment as if taken aback, but Link didn’t have time to wonder why, as it settled back into Cawlin’s usual expression of slightly sneering superiority. Or constipation, Zelda had once whispered, and Link had completely failed to stifle his laugh.
“Hey, you. I just checked Groose’s room, and the guy is gone. You got any idea where he went? Huh?”
Link shook his head, uncomfortable. There was no way he could tell Cawlin that Groose was on the surface, probably still stuck there, hopefully at least safe in the temple with Mahra Impa. If he and Strich went down there as well, they would all be in danger, and even if the Sheikah appeared to help them as they had Link, it would still put the Sheikah themselves in more danger even assuming Groose, Cawlin, and Strich even listened to them. Link’s heart twisted as he remembered he’d forgotten to ask after Davar, the horror he’d faced overwhelming enough to crush even concern for the man who had possibly given up his life to save Link’s.
“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Nothing.” Cawlin blew out a breath, completely oblivious to the reasons for Link’s silence, and turned away while still talking, maybe to Link or maybe just to himself, his tone growing increasingly snide. “He really hasn’t been himself lately, and it’s pathetic. Maybe he had to run away because of his broken heart? What a tough guy. Heh heh…”
Link had heard that same snigger directed at him as often as not, usually after Groose had mocked him or shoved him or whatever else he chose to do. Even so, for a moment he almost felt a little sorry for Groose that his so-called friend would dismiss and mock him so readily. Then again, it wasn’t as if Groose himself wasn’t exactly the same.
With an internal shrug, Link went back to his breakfast. The bullies weren’t enough of a problem for him to care about any more, not when he had the monstrosity on the surface, finding out how to open the Gate of Time and reach Zelda, the unpredictable threat of Ghirahim, and Davar to worry about. He finished the last mouthfuls as a gaggle of students came in the door, all talking animatedly, and hastily dropped off his tray and fled the Academy before anyone else could start questioning him.
The wind outside was fickle and contrary, eddying now one way, now another, and the red loftwing following him from above was forced to beat his wings for every bit of distance, rather than soaring as the big birds loved to do on warm, sunny days. Link sympathised with his bird’s frustration, feeling every buffeting gust at only a slight remove, echoed in turn by the unpredictable impact of the wind on him every time he turned a corner or passed a side street. It wasn’t strong enough to blow him around – only the very worst storms could be that strong – but it was still enough to be mildly annoying: now directly in his face; now suddenly from the side; or even falling briefly still only to catch him off-guard in the next step. Hats fluttered on their owners’ heads, held securely on with well-tied laces or buckled straps as a matter of course, and Link made an instinctive grab as an old lady’s shawl escaped her shoulders and blew twisting past him. Almost to his own surprise, his hand closed on the softly woven fabric, and he bundled it up quickly, walking up to her and offering it back.
“Thank you! My, I thought I’d lost it this time for sure. The pin comes loose, you see…” Plump, wrinkled hands closed on the shawl and took it from him to hold it possessively close, while faded brown eyes peered at him. “But it’s the one my girl made for me, so I don’t like to use another. Well, thank you very much, young man… young Knight, isn’t it? One of the Academy students? You’re all always so well-mannered. Well, don’t let me keep you; I expect you have training to be getting on with, eh? Goddess bless you and all you do today.”
“And you,” Link said quietly, smiling a little as he went on his way.
The rest of the trip across Skyloft was without incident, although he paused briefly on the bridge to feel the wind streaming past him, every bit as strongly as it could while flying. He wasn’t the only person to think so, either: a child too small to have yet met their loftwing was leaning against the parapet, squinting into the wind and leaning from side to side as if riding an imaginary bird. It felt like so long ago that Link had done the same, back home on Spindrift, holding a fence as if it were a loftwing’s flight harness and imagining the day he would have a bird of his own.
He felt a wave of fondness from the red bird above, affection he fully returned as he carried on, down the far side of the bridge to climb the second, steeper of Skyloft’s two hills. Like most students, he’d been at the Academy for two years when his tenth birthday came, and with it the ceremony that would see him meet his loftwing. He, and everyone else on Skyloft who was the same age, had waited on the Isle of the Goddess. The first bird had arrived, delightedly crooning at a black-haired boy whose name Link couldn’t remember and who he’d never seen again. The second and third, close together, splitting up to find their lifelong partners in the small line of excited children. The red loftwing had been almost last to appear, and when he did everyone gasped, even Headmaster Gaepora staring in surprise: crimson was a vanishingly rare colour amongst loftwings, and while several of them sported it in the bands or tips of their feathers, a fully crimson bird hadn’t been seen in over a generation.
Rare or otherwise, it had meant nothing to Link from the moment their eyes met, and something sparked to life inside his mind that he hadn’t known he could miss until that instant. It felt like a dream as he patted the soft plumage, aware of both the feel of them under his hands and the comforting sense of contact that both he and the bird felt. Excitement – the boy’s loftwing had arrived and instantly bonded with him – and triumph – the bird had found his human after the first true long flight of his life – filled them both to such a degree that Link, laughing in wonder, had scrambled up onto the young bird’s back and the two had leapt into the sky unprompted, flying around by the island for the sheer joy of it, feeling perfectly safe in the sure and certain knowledge that neither of them would ever let the other down.
Link walked up the hill still thinking as much of the loftwing flying above him as the road he was walking on. For the moment, the red bird was semi-contented: things were closer to how they ought to be, with Link in the sky where he and his loftwing belonged and heading purposefully towards finding their lost flockmate, however contrary the winds of the day were.
Almost before he knew it, he had climbed the eastern hill, a steep rise ending in a cliff at the island’s edge, with terraces of housing cut into its sloping side and nestled into it away from the wind, each one with its own roof garden growing fruits, vegetables, flowers. The open space at the top was something of a small park, the edge of the island protected by a sturdy fence to keep children from falling from it, and, set only slightly aside from the highest point of the hill, the second windmill turned as smoothly and near-silently as its southern sibling.
Expecting it would be the same as the other one, Link walked up to it, looking at the hatch in its side.
“Fi, would you open the hatch, please?”
There was a click just like the one he’d heard before, and he slid his fingers into the recess, pulling upwards. Just as the other one had, the hatch slid upwards into the windmill, revealing a cramped, dark space decorated with its own set of notes on string. Link’s loftwing landed in the strip of parkland behind him, watching curiously as he scrambled inside.
Other than the different notes, the layout was identical to the one he’d been inside yesterday. Link found the hidden catch down the right-hand side of the left-hand control panel, lifted it, and looked in to see the same circular mechanism that he had before, the only difference being that the compass rose, oriented north, was at a different angle compared to everything else due to the different angle of the windmill. He reached in and pressed the ‘LOCK/UNLOCK’ button… but nothing happened.
Master Link, I detect that this board is not receiving power. Analysing the power flows within this windmill, I have discovered a fault in the power conversion unit located beneath and to the right of the board. Although I can guide you through the process of accessing and removing it, it will not be repairable using technology available on Skyloft. It will be necessary to locate a replacement.
Link grimaced, frustrated. He was so close – so close, only to be thwarted at the last step. “But where would we…” He trailed off. “The desert?”
I calculate a 90% probability that suitable components will be available in that location, Fi agreed. The city of Cronellon, through which you passed on your way to the Gate of Time, will host a large number of such converters. The primary difficulty will be in finding one of the correct rating which has not been rendered inoperable by the passage of time.
“Is that what you think happened to this one?”
He felt Fi’s attention shift, directed searchingly at something he couldn’t see but could still, somehow, have pointed directly at through his sense of her. No, Master. It appears that this power conversion unit has been partially melted, presumably due to a power surge of some kind. Failsafes activated and contained it, preventing the damage from spreading. The rest of the mechanism is intact.
“That’s a relief. I wonder what happened?”
Even as he reached the end of his sentence, Link’s words were overlapped by a shout from outside. “Link? Is that you in there?”
At the sound of an unexpected voice calling to him, Link jumped so badly he almost hit his head on the ceiling of the cramped space inside the windmill, twisting frantically to look out and see – Jakamar? Still some distance away, near enough that Link’s loftwing had registered him but too far off to be a threat, he was hurrying in Link’s direction. Link shut the panel and squirmed out, standing up just as Jakamar reached him.
“Uh, Master Builder…”
“I saw that red bird and thought it might be you. What are you doing in the windmill, lad? How did you get the key? I had a letter from Mayor Herrene and Headmaster Gaepora saying you might be needing to look in the windmills, so I got it out for you, but here you are.”
Link felt his face heat in chagrin. He’d only intended to take a look at the western windmill, but with Fi’s help, getting inside it and doing what he needed to had been so easy he hadn’t really thought about it. Apart from the moveable ‘shield’, the windmill had been left exactly as it was when he’d entered; Fi would have told him if he’d done anything to damage it. But he should have found someone to ask, at least before coming up here, only it hadn’t even occurred to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing down at his boots. “I don’t have much time, and Fi can just unlock the hatches. She says they can use a key, or a signal she can give them.” He took a slightly deeper breath. “I didn’t think to ask you, and I should have. I’m sorry.”
“Well, as long as there’s no harm done. There is no harm done, right, Link?”
“I don’t think so. Fi would have told me if I damaged anything. But something in this tower is broken-”
“What?!”
Fi chose that moment to emerge, hovering beside Link in her usual elegant pose, wind-ruffled yet still, making Jakamar’s query become almost as much of a surprised yelp.
“My assessment of the damage indicates that it occurred between twenty and thirty years ago. These windmills possess a secondary function related to Link’s quest, involving the transmission of information. This function does not interfere with their primary purpose of power generation. However, a key component necessary for activation of the secondary function has failed. The current technology of Skyloft is insufficient to create a replacement.”
“Well…”
“Jakamar,” Link said quickly, seeing the Master Builder still rather stunned, “this is Fi, the spirit of the sword. Fi, this is Jakamar.” I know you’ve already met him, but he doesn’t really know that.
“Well, I… I’m pleased to meet you, Fi. Kukiel had a lot to say about you! But how do you know so much about the windmill?”
“I possess senses not commonly available to humans,” Fi replied. “In addition, I was given as much knowledge as possible in my creation in order to better assist my wielder. At this close range, I am capable of fully perceiving the entire internal structure of the windmill, and identifying its individual components. The component in question is a modulated multi-way transformer that permits the secondary functions of the windmill to be powered using the electricity generated within the windmill. The two systems operate under significantly different voltage regimes, and it is not possible to directly connect them to one another without causing severe and immediate damage.”
“...You should meet Minga,” Jakamar said, a little slowly. “She’s the chief electrician – she has the main key to the windmills. At first I wondered if you had hers, but she would have told me if she’d given you it. Anyway, that… so what are you gonna do about that? If we can’t make another part, what can we do to make it work?”
“There’s a place on the surface where I should be able to find parts like that,” Link explained. “I’m going to have to go back down there and hope I can find one that’s still in good shape.”
“On the surface…” Jakamar blew out a breath. “I don’t suppose I can help you there, lad. I always thought it was children’s tales, all that about something under the clouds. Never thought I’d see days like these, that’s all I can say.” He scratched his head. “You’ve got a good heart, bringing Kukiel home for us the way you did. I’ll tell Minga everything Fi here said about the windmill. She’ll probably want to be up here waiting for you when you get back. If she’s not, come find me first and I’ll send someone to fetch her. All right?”
Link nodded, relieved and grateful. “I will, I promise. Thank you.” He turned around and shut the hatch, and both he and Jakamar heard the click of Fi locking it behind him. “It might be a few days, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Fair winds, Link.” Jakamar grimaced as a gust buffeted them both. “Fairer than these, for sure.”
Link smiled. “Thank you.”
Notes:
According to my ongoing count, this is the 11th day.
Despite what films may depict, maybe to make characters look cool or maybe to avoid confusing the audience with costume changes, one doesn’t generally wear armour all the time everywhere. Although chainmail is quite comfy and easy to move around in,* you will still know you’re wearing it as you carry extra weight around all day. And it gets some amount of oily grime (if well-kept) or rusty grime (if not) on pretty much everything it touches.
* Your experience may differ, but I find it quite a cosy form of armour to wear when belted properly to settle the weight onto your hips. Belted improperly it’s a real drag on the shoulders, but properly it barely feels to weigh anything.Patch Notes
- Story of Link meeting his loftwing now organic rather than “As you know, Zelda…” exposition.
- Problem that could be fixed by hand-cranking replaced with problem actually unfixable using only Skyloftian equipment.
- Special rotation mechanism still not operable by everyday Skyloft phenomenon. (I know I wrote this one last time, but come on, a wind-operated “secret” mechanism on a windmill???) (I also know Jakamar knows it’s for rotating the windmill, but come on, at some point in the last thousand years the wind would have been blowing from the direction of the Light Tower and one of the windmills would have lit up, and then everyone would be checking them out and pointing them different ways to see what happened. So the mechanism Link interacts with must be both secret and separate from the regular windmill mechanism.)
- Locals now notice and react to Link messing about with their windmills.
The more I think about it, the more the pointless windmills annoy me. Windmills aren’t typically there to look cute. They do a job and they do it really very well, providing a large amount of force for things that, for an unaided human, would be pretty backbreaking labour. In order to get use out of a mill (wind or water powered), you have to be able to get inside it, place whatever you want crushed, cut, etc., and have space for collection of the end product (flour, cut wood, etc. – the more I look into this, the more uses I find for mills; there are absolutely tons of them and various corresponding configurations of the drive system!). As I wrote last time, rather than make these ones much wider and more full of people, I opted to have them generate electricity instead.
Chapter 70: Another Option
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link had crossed the river before his bird’s absent recognition of a familiar object in his airspace made him glance reflexively up. Beedle’s Airshop was making its usual rounds of Market Hill, visibly buffeted by the contrary winds, propellers spinning endlessly to keep it aloft and on course. The familiar sight shifted again in his mind: not the cheerful shopkeeper’s quirky contraption, but a last creaking legacy of something that had existed a thousand years before, powered and maintained with the same dedication that had kept Skyloft’s ancient windmills always turning until everyone all but forgot they were there at all, never mind what that meant or what they did.
“Fi… Do you think Beedle might have a power converter?”
He felt Fi’s lightning-fast consideration, assessing her knowledge and extrapolating a conclusion in mere moments.
In order to link the power generated through manual effort to the systems that keep the Airshop aloft, he must possess at least one. However, that one will be critical to the craft’s functionality. Additionally, I cannot assess whether it would be suitable for use within the windmill without a full analysis.
Link nodded. “But if it is suitable, and if he has a spare… we might not have to go to the desert at all.” It had taken him a day just to get through the mines, or at least, he’d had to sleep on the way. Even without however much time he spent searching, he’d lose two days just going back and forth through the tunnels and caverns of that strange, haunting dead land.
Fi said nothing, but he could feel her agreement with his assessment. Looking back up at the Airshop, squinting a little in the whipping wind, Link realised with dismay that, by the time he reached the top of Market Hill, it would already have passed him, floating slowly around its circle… but he could cut through the middle of the marketplace and catch up. Energised by the hope, however unlikely it might be, Link ran up the hill, despite the wind that now blew him along, now pushed him back.
Above, his loftwing landed grumpily on the marketplace roof and tucked his head into the soothing calm beneath one wing. Link couldn’t blame him. Most of the other loftwings he could see were similarly perched, some seemingly headless, variously squat or stilt-legged statues atop their humans’ rooftops or other convenient vantage points. Several had gathered atop the market, Link’s crimson bird adding himself to the line along one ridge. He guessed Beedle’s was probably among them somewhere, too.
Though the canvas of the roof flapped and cracked in the wind, the marketplace itself was an oasis of stillness in comparison, despite the bustle of people coming and going. Link jogged through them with the ease of long practice, dodging around people who were too slow, or just standing still, or who turned unexpectedly in front of him. The potion shop caught his eye, reminding him he needed to replace the ones he’d used, but- later. Link wrenched his thoughts away from it before he could dwell too long on why he’d used them, and kept going, weaving past a crowd of people standing and talking about something. His course brought him past the Baggage Check, a gap opening up between him and it to give him a glimpse of Peatrice leaning on the counter, head on one hand, looking almost asleep. Feeling sorry for her, he waved, and a moment later Peatrice’s head snapped up, dark eyes opening fully as she waved back. It brought a smile to his face as he hurried to the northern entrance, slightly reluctantly stepping out into the capricious wind.
He’d beaten Beedle to it, the Airshop still slowly labouring around the curve of the market, and he walked around to meet it, finding a stone to throw at the bell along the way. The whole thing was swinging in the contrary wind, as well as with the motion of the Airshop, and on an impulse Link fished out the slingshot the kikwi elder, Bucha, had given him days ago, fitting the stone into place and stretching it back, aiming up at the swaying bell. The moment right, he released it, and the stone shot through the air, faster than he could have thrown it and dead on target, striking the bell loudly. Flapping in the wind, the ladder began to descend, the entire Airshop lowering a little with it to let it brush the ground, though Link had already walked up beneath it, taking hold the moment it came into reach. Weighted though it was, the wind and the unsteady motion of the Airshop still tried to pull it away from him, and he leapt onto it and began, grimly, to attempt the climb.
Unusually, the ladder started retracting before he’d got more than a few rungs up, blowing out below the Airshop like a dragging feather. Link kept climbing, letting it pull him in twice as fast, and scrambled gratefully onto the Airshop’s narrow boarded deck as quickly as he could. The winds above Skyloft were stronger still than on it, where the buildings and trees and the island itself slowed and baffled them, and he held on to the side of the Airshop just in case as he made his careful way round to the entrance.
“Ohhhhh, it’s you!” Beedle was, as always, pedalling, and he looked a bit more tired than usual, strain in his expression that Link didn’t often see. “Good to see you! I’m not getting many customers in this weather… What are you looking for?”
Link rested his hand on the wall for balance, glancing at it first to avoid touching anything that looked mechanical. The Airshop creaked and jolted from side to side alarmingly, and in quite a different way to a living loftwing fighting the winds.
“You probably don’t,” he began, “but Fi says you must have at least one to keep the Airshop flying, so… do you have a spare power converter?”
Beedle blinked at him, eyes darting a moment later to some gauges set into the counter in front of him and back again. “You want a… power converter?”
“Yeah. Fi also called it a…”
A modulated multi-way transformer, Fi filled in, and Link repeated her words.
“A modulated multi-way transformer. She can describe it a lot better than I can.”
“Who’s Fi?” Beedle asked, his eyes flicking swiftly around his shop.
“She’s the spirit of the sword,” Link explained, lifting his left hand over his shoulder to touch the hilt for a moment, feather-light. “She’s the one who told me what I have to do.” He only realised after the fact, this time, how strange what he’d just said should still have been. Fi was a constant, a companion, and though he hadn’t thought it in so many words, a friend. She’d stood with him, however ethereally, through everything they had faced. She’d been through worse than he had and lost more than he could easily know. She assessed his chances calmly, but she cared, in her way, about his success, about his life, about his well-being. Her metallic blue face, her strange blank eyes, the diamond gem embedded in her chest or the hands she didn’t possess, had come to be a reassurance, her presence in the sword natural.
But, of course, it wasn’t natural to Beedle, who was squinting curiously at the pale hilt, and would probably have looked closer if he could have risked stepping away from his endless pedalling. Even as Link thought that, another shift of the wind rocked the Airshop, and Beedle swung his head back around to focus on his gauges and the window, splitting his attention between them.
“Link, if I try to talk about this right now, we might crash…”
Link winced, nodding instantly. “Okay.”
“But I might have a spare, back at my little dock. Ohhh! Why don’t you and Fi write down what you want and why, and leave me the note? I’ll take it back with me tonight…” He trailed off, looking out of the window. “And of course, I’ll come right back to Skyloft! Winds permitting… It might be a couple of days…”
“Thanks, Beedle,” Link said sincerely. He glanced around the cramped shop, looking for somewhere to sit, but the only seat was a low one under the window that really seemed to be more of a…
“Go ahead and sit on my bed,” Beedle told him. “Just keep your head out of the way of the window so I can see where we’re going!”
Obedient, Link walked around and sat down, leaning against the wall on his left to try and stay out of Beedle’s way as much as possible. He fished for his notebook and pen, twisted it to unstop the ink reservoir.
What should I write, Fi?
Though Fi remained unseen within the sword, her voice sounded in his head, calmly musical, describing something Link didn’t really understand, using unfamiliar words in places, though Link somehow found that if she said it, he could spell it, at least as long as he held it in his mind.
Below them, the bell rang, and Beedle sighed, casting a weary look at Link before pulling a lever. Another set of machinery clanked and whirred to life, and Link realised that it had to be the sound of the ladder descending, louder and somehow different from within the Airshop than from outside. It clunked to a stop as Beedle adjusted other controls, most of these on the moveable bars he held onto for balance while pedalling. Glancing between the window and a dial set into the wall on his right, Beedle pushed the lever back the other way, starting up the same machinery in reverse, and put on a burst of speed, pedalling ever harder.
A shadow fell upon the open doorway, a figure silhouetted in it, and Link squinted at it for a moment before it took another step in and revealed itself as Karane.
“Hi Beedle,” she said cheerfully, missing Link completely in the small space of the shop and all its shelves and machinery.
“Welcome… aboard!” Beedle panted. “Feel free to look around… and even buy something!”
Karane laughed. “That’s the plan. You sound tired today, though. Are you okay?”
Beedle huffed. “I’m only having to pedal twice as hard because of all the extra weight!” Karane glowered, and he added “Oh, sorry! I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just there are two of you, and this wind is…” He trailed off, muttering, but Karane, somewhat mollified, was already searching the interior for the other shopper.
“Link?! I wasn’t expecting to see you up here! How are – er… um…” A blush crept over her face. “Oh, never mind! Just like Pipit said, I shouldn’t ask questions when the Headmaster will tell us everything! I’ll just… buy what I need… um…”
As Karane turned to stare far more fixedly than she needed to at the items on Beedle’s shelves, Link found himself once again quietly thanking Pipit, as well as Instructor Owlan, even as he felt slightly bad for Karane. It also reminded him, guiltily, that he hadn’t written his report for the Headmaster and Mayor Herrene, so no-one besides him even could tell anyone anything. With Beedle having to fly back to his home island, wherever that was, he supposed he’d have time… far more time than he wanted.
Karane made her purchase as Link stood up to drop his note into Beedle’s rupee tray, paper and crystal alike vanishing into the drawer below as Beedle tipped it. Despite his customary cry of delight, informing Karane she’d given him the strength to keep on pedalling – he really does say that every time – the flying shopkeeper was clearly panting for air, sweat beading his face and beginning to streak down to drip from his chin. For Beedle’s sake, both Link and Karane hurried out as fast as possible, Karane climbing onto the ladder and Link hopping on just above her as it started to descend. The ladder swung out in the fickle winds, and both Knights-in-training clung to it, hanging on grimly as the mechanism lowered them closer and closer to solid ground and safety.
A couple of days…
Even as he gripped the ladder, Skyloft’s familiar, dizzyingly impossible ground growing ever nearer below him, Link wondered whether he might as well travel to the desert anyway, and at least try looking in the mines. From what Fi had said, without more information there was no guarantee that whatever Beedle had would be the right sort, and if nothing else, it would spare him from days of half-started questioning…
Notes:
Chapter 70. How is this Chapter 70. I’ve not done THAT much!
Oh. Wait. Right. I have. =D (And 25 chapters of Out Of Time, and 6 chapters of A Hunger to Swallow the World, and the couple of currently-extant chapters of To Drift From Grace…) And according to the word counter, I’m coming up on 300,000 words for the set – very nearly 200,000 for Reforged here alone. This is… serious novel territory. Wow, what have I done?
I’ve worked out for sure what to do with the Gratitude Crystals, and the next chapter should, barring Link making unexpected decisions, take us into that. Then it’s expected to be back down to the surface for not only a power converter but also Link’s to-do list that he asked Fi to keep for the next time he was back in the desert…
Patch Notes
- Groundwork laid for later patch dependent upon earlier patches.
- Technology from Airshop both noted and acted upon.
- Airshop has more than one customer.
- Weather conditions important to sky-dwelling people.
- Loftwings continue.
Chapter 71: Curiosity and Gratitude
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Karane jumped off the ladder as it neared the ground, keeping her hands on it to hold it steady for Link as he began to climb down, leaping off still several rungs up.
“Thanks.”
Karane released the ladder as Link spoke, and they both watched it sway out on the wind, retracting steadily back up into the Airshop.
“Don’t mention it, Link. I’m sorry for bothering you up there. Are you heading back to the Academy?”
Link nodded, slightly reluctantly. He'd pick up the promised meal from Henya, and after that… After that, he would probably have to write his report. However much he wanted to, he wouldn't in good conscience leave Skyloft again without at least telling the Headmaster what had happened.
“I see.” Karane hesitated, noticeably enough that Link waited instead of saying farewell. “Do you think… Listen, I was thinking I'd visit the ‘Skyloft Monster.’” Again, she paused, looking at Link searchingly as if half expecting him to mock her, but all he did was look back. “You said he was lonely, and I’m so curious. But, well… isn’t that strange? Just turning up? And when I asked him, the Headmaster said something about the graveyard. That can’t be right. Can it?”
Link nodded. “There's a ladder in the back of the shed. I don’t know how he managed to put it there. It goes down to a walkway under the waterfall…”
Karane’s eyebrows seemed to lift with every word he spoke. “Really?”
“Uh-huh.” Link glanced at the sun, aware of the faint sense of Fi’s reserved disapproval, held in abeyance solely because he had asked her to give Batreaux a chance. There was still plenty of time to fly… and he had to admit, he wanted to check on the demon too. Even if all of the unease he felt had been Fi’s alone, she knew far more than he did, and she intended nothing but the best, however unyielding her judgement. “I can show you the way and introduce you, if you want. I should probably check on him anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
Link couldn’t quite read the older student’s expression, but he shrugged and answered anyway.
“Sure. I have to go, but… only after I’ve written my report, and where I’m going, it will take days to get back. And I really should check he's okay.” And safe, he thought. Safe for others, and perhaps safe for himself now that his existence was known in at least some quarters of Skyloft.
“Well… all right, then!” Karane decided. “Let’s go!”
* * *
The walk back down Market Hill and across the river was just as windy as the previous one had been, but otherwise uneventful, Karane trying and mostly succeeding to stick to innocuous topics of conversation and both loft wings flying ahead of their riders to roost and avoid the wind. Instead of heading up the hill as Link had not long before, they veered further south, around its base and into the graveyard, where the simple wooden marker still stood beneath the tree, and, rather incongruously, a uniformed Knight sat on a wooden chair in the sun just outside the door of the shed. Surprised, Link slowed as he approached.
“Hello, students,” the Knight said. A middle-aged woman, dark brown hair cut sensibly short to fit under a hat, Link couldn’t place her or even be sure if they had ever met before. “What are you two doing here? Aren’t classes on today?”
“I’m off class at the moment,” Link explained. “My name’s Link. I’m here to check on Batreaux and introduce him to Karane.”
“Link, is it? I’m pleased to meet you. You're quite the famous student! I’m Keiti. And you're welcome to go and see him.” Her attention shifted to Karane as she spoke. “Just be careful on the ladder and the walkway. How either of them haven’t fallen into the sky is beyond me.”
Link nodded. “I remember. Thank you.” Fi’s words of that dark, eerie night came back to his mind, ladder and walkway infused with an amount of demonic power. Perhaps for the best, if it kept the whole arrangement and anyone on it from tumbling to the clouds below, and yet…
Internally shaking it off, he opened the door and stepped into the shed. The coffins had been moved since he’d last seen it, rotated and restacked so that there was a clear, if narrow, path to the trapdoor at the back. Karane walked in behind him, and the Knight, Keiti, held the door to let the sun shine in, making the dusty, slightly cobwebby shed seem little more than that, its former spookiness at least partially dismissed.
“Here we are,” Link said quietly, looking for and finding the too-dark knothole; kneeling to pull the trapdoor open. Behind him, Karane gasped in surprise.
“I would never have noticed that!”
Link looked up at her with a half-smile. “I nearly didn’t either. Be careful – it's a long way down.”
He sat on the edge and slipped down onto the ladder, and once again Karane followed.
* * *
The climb was just as long and hard as he remembered, albeit significantly better-lit. Eventually giving way from Skyloft rock to a few rungs embedded in the stone of the island’s side to nothing, wood rough and splintery with the gusting wind whipping around and threatening to pull him off, the ladder almost seemed to go on forever. Grimly determined, Link kept climbing: Karane was above him, so he couldn't go back up, and in any case, it wouldn’t have felt right to just give up on checking on Batreaux once he'd started.
Suddenly, finally, his foot hit the rickety planks of the walkway, and Link backed up a step with a sigh of relief, leaving Karane space to climb down. She was there moments later, her boots quickly dropping into Link’s field of vision, and she sounded as relieved as he felt when her boots finally touched the planks below.
“Whew!” Karane blew out a long breath. “Anyone living down here must really be fit… Link, is this really safe?” As she spoke, she’d started looking around, and the rickety walkway inspired no more confidence in the daylight than it had in the dark. “It looks ready to fall off the island!”
“It’s sturdy enough.” The fact that Fi didn’t contradict him was confirmation in and of itself. “Fi said Batreaux can keep it that way. He lives further on, around there.” Link pointed to where the walkway curved around the rock of the island and out of sight.
“This is really hidden away…”
“Yeah.”
Karane walked past him, testing the boards ahead with a foot, her stance braced against the shifting, gusting wind. With their loftwings perched on the island above, neither student needed be too concerned about falling: in the light of day, it would take bare instants for either bird to launch themself into a dive from the island’s edge and come to their rider’s aid. Opting not to crowd Karane with the wind so strong and unpredictable, Link followed a couple of paces behind, letting her take the lead now that there was only one way they could go.
“Link…” Karane stopped, looking to her left. She’d seen the waterfall, spilling from the edge of Skyloft and falling past them in a curtain of wind-whipped spray down, down, down until, depending on the weather, it was either shredded to mist or fell into the clouds below. “Isn’t that beautiful?”
“It is,” Link agreed wholeheartedly. The shifting, rushing sound like the murmurs of a thousand distant voices was still there, half-lost in the howling of the wind around Skyloft, but in the daylight it held no fear: the waterfall was obvious, and spectacular. It made him realise why, perhaps, Batreaux might have put his home here, rather than somewhere else beneath the island. “We’re close now. Look.” He pointed ahead, and Karane turned to follow his finger, seeing the edge of Batreaux’s ramshackle hut just coming into view around the rock of the island’s underside.
“That’s it?” She took several more careful steps onwards, peering ahead. “He really lives there?”
“Uh-huh,” Link said.
“But it looks… well…” Karane was clearly struggling for a polite way to put it.
“I don’t think he’s much good at building things.”
Looking at the ramshackle hut ahead, clinging to the island’s side like a strange wooden wart, Karane continued slowly ahead, down the steepening slop of the walkway. As she finally reached the rickety platform around it and neared the crude door, she paused and looked around. Link did the same, realising for the first time that, from the door, he could just see the base of the Light Tower through the waterfall. When the beacon atop the tower was lit, the water would probably shimmer with its light. As well as hiding the hut from a casual flier, at dawn and dusk it would have to look utterly splendid.
No wonder Batreaux built his home here, he thought. The entirely understandable motivation once again brushed away some of his uncertainty and concern, enough that he walked up to the door and turned to Karane.
“I warned you he looks… well, like a monster, right?”
Karane nodded. “Don’t worry, Link. I promise I’ll be kind!”
At her reassurance, Link raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door.
“Oh! A visitor! Do come in!” Batreaux’s voice called hopefully from the other side, and Link pushed the door open.
Batreaux was sitting on his stool towards the back of his hut, his bony bat-like wings folded, His clawed hands clearly held something, but he seemed to have forgotten whatever he had been doing with it in favour of looking at the door and his unexpected guests.
“Oh, Link! I am so happy to see you once again.” Batreaux stood up as he spoke, turning towards them, which did nothing to help his imposing appearance. “And who is this delightful stranger behind you? Please do come in. I assure you, though I know I look positively monstrous to you, I truly feel nothing but goodwill towards you.”
Link took several paces inside, listening to Karane’s boots on the floor behind him; the sound of the door closing. The wind whipping around inside the hovel instantly dropped, though Link could still feel a draught blowing in through the many chinks in the walls.
“This is Karane. She’s a student in the Knight Academy, in the class above me. Karane, this is Batreaux.”
“Um…” Karane swallowed audibly, but her next words came out in a slightly forced rush. “I’m pleased to meet you, Batreaux.”
“And I am so very pleased to meet you, Karane! Oh, this is quite beyond my wildest dreams! To think that another young human would come all the way down here just to meet me…” The demon wiped at his eyes with the back of a bent finger, long red claws turned delicately outwards to avoid snagging his own face. “First Kukiel’s dear kind parents and their Knight friend, and now this… I’m quite overcome!” He sniffled, expression somewhere between a smile and almost crying, and to Link’s surprise Karane was abruptly marching past him, her hand held out to Batreaux with a scrap of white in it.
“Here, don’t cry!”
Link only realised what she was holding out was a handkerchief as Batreaux plucked it delicately from her hand and blew his nose with a fastidious delicacy, then used it to wipe his eyes.
“Oh goodness… I don’t know what to say. I simply cannot express how truly grateful I am to you for coming here.” He dabbed at his eyes with the handkerchief again, and gestured to the two stools that made up most of his furniture. “Please, please! Have a seat! I do wish I could offer you a better welcome, but I am afraid my poor home has little to offer.”
The trainee Knights glanced at one another, then sat, Link on the small stool and Karane on the larger one that Batreaux had vacated when they entered. She still seemed slightly tense, but the demon almost bursting into tears over something as simple as being visited had clearly disarmed most of her fears despite his monstrous appearance.
“I’m sure we can do something about that,” Karane said bracingly. “Maybe a couple of cushions, and…” She trailed off, looking around the one-roomed hut. “Are those your paintings? I really like them!” She stood up, crossing to one wall to take a closer look at one of the crowd scenes: a group of people clustered at the lakeshore with a few more swimming in the water beyond them.
“Oh, you do? I do so love to paint!”
“I paint too, sometimes,” Karane said with a smile, and Link relaxed a little more as she began to tell Batreaux about the elective art classes at the Academy, the big demon hanging on her every word.
Notes:
Sorry this is a couple of hours late! A good chunk of it was written at night in a cold bus shelter, as well, so I also apologise if any parts don’t seem quite up to my usual standard. (I’ve been on the road to see a friend!) I have looked over it, of course, but I find it quite difficult to spot things that I myself have missed a lot of the time. (Chapter written on the go at all courtesy of Ellipsus, with thanks to Teorwyn who told me about it!)
I actually never noticed this in the game because it’s tiny and incredibly easy to miss, but the Internet pointed out to me that it appears that Karane does in fact paint (or otherwise draw in colour, which she probably only has a very small number of ways of doing considering the limited resources available in Skyloft). If you go into her room and take a look at her desk (you will need to go into first-person to do this at close enough range), she has an open book containing some evidence!
Patch Notes
- “Borrowed” gratitude with no connection to the being in question replaced with actual gratitude and/or actual friends (or at least new friendly acquaintances).
- Mysterious metaphysical object no-one has ever been able to see before and no-one will ever be able to see again removed in favour of reasonable sapient interaction with greater relevance.
Chapter 72: Ever Onwards
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link wiped the nib of his pen and sighed, leaning back despite the awkwardness of the sword pinned between his back and the chair. Though it was littered with crossings-out and splattered by the occasional ink blot where he’d simply frozen with his pen held over the paper, his report to Headmaster Gaepora was finally finished.
He’d done everything he could before starting. On the way back from introducing Karane to Batreaux, he’d stopped at Luv’s potion shop to replenish his stocks; collected his meals from the Academy kitchen; found a better-fitting pair of boots from the stores with Instructor Owlan’s permission; even put on his armour, ready to leave. Only when there was nothing more he could do to prepare had he finally, reluctantly, faced the inevitable and sat down to write the report. Despite how awkward it made sitting in a chair, he’d kept the Goddess Sword on his back, Fi’s largely silent presence an inexpressible comfort as he slowly, painstakingly explained what he could of the terrible monstrosity that lurked beneath the surface and his battle with it. For how long it had taken to write, his report was painfully short: a single page, no more, its words plain, with little echo of the horror of it all save in their evident difficulty, and a paragraph at the bottom explaining his findings in the windmills.
It would have to do. Sitting forward again, Link blotted the paper without really looking at it, then folded it neatly into three, hiding the words away.
“Are you ready, Fi?”
I am always ready, Master.
He pushed the chair back and stood up, report in one hand, everything else already packed and carried or worn. Outside, his loftwing’s relief echoed his own that his mind was turning away from the dark memories and towards their next goal, and he sensed the bird pacing eagerly towards an edge from which he could leap, in order to be in the air and ready when Link made his own dive from the island. The door closed behind him as, somewhere unseen, the red bird jumped and spread his wings, and the vicarious feeling lightened Link’s heart just a little.
He made his way quickly to the Headmaster’s office, knocking politely and, as expected, at once hearing the familiar voice reply “Come in.” Link opened the door to see Headmaster Gaepora looking up from a book, and stepped inside, closing the door behind himself.
“Ah, Link! I’m glad to see you. Did you have any luck with the windmills? Herrene and I sent a note to the Master Builder explaining what you were investigating and asking him to give you access.”
Link nodded. “I did, Headmaster. You and Father Kaeber were right. But a part from one of them is broken. It’s in my report.” He crossed to the desk and held it out, Headmaster Gaepora accepting it at once. “I’m going back to the desert to look for a replacement. And Beedle is seeing if he has one, too. I should be back in two or three days.” Two, I hope. He turned without waiting for a response, heading for the door, and his hand was already raised towards the knob when the Headmaster’s voice interrupted him.
“Link…”
Link looked over his shoulder, his hand still halfway to the doorknob. Concern filled the Headmaster’s face, though the report was still folded and unread in his hand.
“Be careful out there, below the clouds. Even though the goddess herself has asked this of you…” He trailed off, so unusually, uncharacteristically lost for words that Link was mildly surprised by it. “It is far more than… than I knew I was asking. I do not know what you have written here,” and he tilted his hand a little, just enough to draw attention back to the report, “but I can see what it is doing to you. Please be careful.” His attention shifted, looking to the pale hilt of the blade on Link’s back. “Honoured spirit of the sword, please watch over him.”
It is my purpose to do so, Fi confirmed, her silent voice as calmly melodic as usual, and yet somehow Link thought he felt the subtlest warmth to it, as if the words had, perhaps, been spoken with the intent of reassurance as well as simply being, as Fi had repeatedly told him, an objective fact.
“I’ll be careful, Headmaster,” Link concurred, around a sudden and unexpected lump in his throat. “I promise.”
He turned back to the door, opening it and stepping out without looking back, swallowing once. The Headmaster’s concern had left him with both a feeling of warmth and an unexpected uneasiness. That Headmaster Gaepora was worried about him despite the still-uncertain fate of his own daughter was touching, and Link appreciated it more deeply than he could say even as he wished he hadn’t made the kindly older man worry. That he said he could see ‘what it was doing to’ him was…
He probably should have expected it. Everything had changed; his life was a world away from what it had been two weeks before. So much he had cared about or that had bothered him seemed distant, or even meaningless. He had seen terrible things, and fought them, and put his own life on the line in a way no Knight Academy student would ever be asked to do.
He wasn’t sure he wanted everyone else to be able to see that.
He wasn’t sure he wasn’t afraid that nothing would ever again be the way it had been before.
Abruptly he was at the front doors, having descended the main staircase without really paying attention. Opening the nearest, he stepped out into the gusting wind, hurrying to the closest diving platform and leaping from its edge without even a pause, a whistle giving his loyal bird another cue to find him by. As always, the red loftwing stooped to get beneath him; matched speeds so that Link landed with barely a jar.
“We’re going to the desert again,” Link said, the wind whipping his words away. “It shouldn’t be too long. I’ve just got to find something.”
Without complaint, his loftwing veered in the direction he could sense Link wanting him to go, Link’s desire in turn informed by a mixture of memory and the sense of direction Fi granted him. Southwest, rising and falling according to the winds, slipping from one to another for whatever scrap of advantage could be gained by a wind blowing anything less than ninety degrees to the correct direction. Though the weather was bad, flying through it felt freeing; gave both Link and his loftwing something simple to focus on, pitting themselves against the capricious air currents to make the best time they could.
* * *
Though it was a long flight, the sun was still high enough that Link would have a decent amount of time to travel through the mines when he finally reached the gap in the thin clouds that would let him descend safely to the desert below. Other than a grumpy squawk, his loftwing barely protested when he swung his leg over the bird’s side and threw himself clear, folded sailcloth gripped between his hands ready for release. The winds were somewhat calmer so far from Skyloft, and he sideslipped only a little towards the gap, able to keep a reasonable course for most of his fall.
Then he was through, the thin cloud rushing by him, the dark circle below that he now knew was the head of a statue growing wider and wider. He flung the sailcloth wide, the familiar jolt running down his arms as it arrested his fall, and drifted the rest of the way to the relentlessly warm ‘ground’, inasmuch as the head of a giant statue passed for it.
For once, the sailcloth fell somewhat to one side instead of covering him as it almost inevitably did, and Link immediately set about carefully refolding it before taking more than the swiftest of looks at his surroundings. Nothing, it seemed, had changed since the last time, the desert sands gleaming pale in the slightly watered-down sun, the cleft in the nearby rock face that was the entrance to the mine cut in only slightly soft-edged shadow. Returning the sailcloth to its pouch, Link walked to the side and began the scramble down.
Notes:
Patch Notes
- Headmaster continues to demonstrate concern like real person.
- Location reached for next chapter’s patch note.
After all my rambling about chainmail, one thing I don’t play with the realism for is the Master Sword, in large part because I’m just too fond of the way it looks in the games: it’s totally iconic to me. So I admit my inconsistency. In actual fact, you try drawing a sword that length from a back scabbard without said back scabbard being slit a noticeable amount down the upper side. The trouble I’ve found with (unslit) back scabbards is that all the ways of getting a sword longer than your own arm out of them are a bit stupid: you can ‘throw’ the sword to yourself or pass it hand-over-hand a few times until you’ve got it all the way out (if you’re confident you can grab it by the blade safely, being as this would be a real, sharp sword rather than a safely blunt one); you can bow briefly and have a friend extract it for you… All in all, it’s not the best arrangement for a long blade. I mean, unless I’ve missed some obvious thing I could be doing to make my life easier.
Perhaps/probably the scabbard just has a handy slit in it so that the sword can be swung into and out of place, then inserted the rest of the way. I’ve seen one version where it does, although that one version ruined it by tying a strip of cloth over the slit, meaning that the slit is once again useless… or that strip of cloth is about to cease existing the moment Link puts the sword away again. And who tied it there?!
Hip scabbards are much easier because you get to add the entire diagonal length of your torso to the length of your arm, in terms of how much room you have to play with when drawing the sword. Also, it’s much easier to grip the scabbard and hold it steady if your sword is a little snug in there and resists being pulled.
Aaaand that’s enough of that.
Chapter 73: Spare Parts
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
With Fi’s senses to guide him, Link had made good time through the first section of the mine, where there was little to be found but rails and dead-end excavations. As he had before, he’d had to sleep before he made it all the way through, finding a small side cavern with no sign of danger and spreading his sailcloth just enough to sleep on and under.
As he had the previous night, Link awoke from an uneasy sleep – but instead of the light of the early morning sun, he woke to pitch blackness, somewhere cold and silent and alone. What few impressions were even there to be grasped crashed into his mind at once as he woke, throwing his left hand wide in a burst of panic and slamming it into the unyielding rock floor: for an instant he was dead, lost in the void; for an instant he had fallen, devoured by the horror that haunted him – and then his hand hit the cold, uneven ground, and the feel of it jolted him back to reality, memory filling in all he had done the day before.
“Fi!”
She sprang from the sword almost before he spoke, appearing before him, perfectly visible, as if she were glowing without shedding light.
“Master Link, you are exhibiting significant distress.”
Link pressed his hand to his heart, almost certain he could feel it racing in time with the beat in his ears. “Y-… Yeah.” There was no point denying it, the two of them alone in the dark, and nothing to prove but that he was alive and well. It was almost comforting to know that Fi knew his thoughts, or enough of them. That she made no demands, only observations, and, perhaps, understood.
“I detect that it is connected to our recent experiences.”
Link drew his legs up, folding his arms loosely around them. “Yeah.”
Fi adopted a kneeling pose beside him, her youthful yet ageless face so close to his own that he should have been able to feel her breath. Blank blue eyes seemed to hold his gaze, her attention focused on him in its entirety in a way that Link couldn’t help but feel as comforting, where someone else might have put a hand on his shoulder or tried to talk to him to calm him.
“I am here.”
Her focus was a lifeline, drawing him away from the fear; her face was something real before him, however intangible. The darkness was a small cavern in the mines, nothing more; there was no danger, nothing to fear. The more he stared into Fi’s eyes, the more true that felt, until eventually he let his arms drop, lowering his knees and sitting straighter.
“Thanks, Fi.”
Fi drew back, though by only a small amount, remaining kneeling beside him at something closer to a conversational distance.
“You are welcome, Master Link.”
“I guess we might as well get moving…” Whatever time it was, Link didn’t feel like lying back down to sleep. Instead, he pulled himself free of the sailcloth, Fi drifting further back, out of his way, as the hilt of the sword glowed brighter to give him enough light to see his lantern by.
If she’d been able to, he felt she probably would have helped him pack up.
* * *
They had crossed most of the way through the mine before Fi diverted from their direct course, slowing Link as they neared the mine intersection beyond which the first robots he had accidentally reactivated lay, silent and dead amidst their banks of equally still rock-processing machinery. Since that area had been being actively mined at the time they were shut down, she explained, it was reasonably likely that he might find tools and spare parts in the vicinity. Trusting in her guidance, Link had begun searching each side passage, checking through each carved entryway. Some were dead ends, others branches of the metallic rail that extended into unseen distances. And one, only just outside the chamber where the robots had died, half-hidden behind the ranks of inactive carts waiting upon their rails…
Master, the inscription on this door reads “Maintenance and Emergency”.
As small a success as it was, it was a welcome triumph. “Do you think we can open it?”
He thought he could feel Fi studying the door for a split second.
The standard opening mechanism requires power. However, there is a secondary manual mechanism, allowing the use of this room in instances when power has been lost. It is identical to the one that you used before, near the Temple of Time. Locate the panel to the right of the door and open it.
Link moved almost in time with her words, the edge of the panel picked out as a hair-fine line in his lanternlight, a single deeper recess looking more like a gouge in the wall, but in fact intended for wider fingers than his own to grip and pull the panel open. He set the lantern down a couple of paces away and returned to the panel; pulled it gently at first, then with more force, overcoming the resistance of hinges unused for a millennium… and overcoming one of the hinges, as well. Link winced, letting go of the now-open panel, which hung somewhat lopsidedly from its remaining intact hinge, the half-broken one barely anchored to the wall at all.
“Sorry…”
The hinge had seized due to the passage of time. The probability of you opening it without some degree of damage was less than ten percent.
It made him feel a little better.
Rotate the handle within 90 degrees anticlockwise, then pull it towards you.
There was a handle there, again with slightly more space available around it than he needed to hold it: both hands fit easily into the gap. It grated and protested as he threw his strength against it, dragging it slowly around one inch at a time until, at last, it was vertical, and he changed direction to pull it out of the wall. For a moment it seemed that nothing at all was happening – then, suddenly, it jolted towards him, unexpectedly enough that he almost lost his footing, and the door to his left snapped open a couple of inches, a vertical line of blackness appearing between it as the wall. Link let go of the handle and straightened up, wiping the back of his gloved hand across his forehead.
“I guess I just have to pull it open…”
He was speaking as much to hear himself as anything else: this deep in the mines, the only sounds he’d heard for a long time were his own breath, his own footsteps, his own voice and sometimes Fi’s. Fi said nothing as Link slipped his fingers into the gap down the side of the door, bracing himself and dragging it slowly to the left, jerkily, screeching and groaning on runners that had gone without care for centuries. Dim shapes to either side looked like shelving, mysterious items stacked and racked, or hidden within boxes with labels Link couldn’t read. He picked up his lantern and advanced into the surprisingly long room, holding it high.
I detect that the near third of this room is dedicated to the storage of tools and parts related to mining work and the exposed parts of the associated machinery. The subsequent half appears to have been utilised for storage of more delicate components internal to the machines, as well as multiple miles of electrical cable and other power-related items. Considering the sheltered nature of this location, the probability of finding items that have deteriorated less than those here in other locations is below thirty percent. Additionally, the remaining sixth of the available space is taken up by components and tools sufficient to conduct even drastic repairs on robots damaged while working in the mine. It may be possible to locate suitable parts here to restore the individual in Gondo’s smithy.
With everything else that had happened, the ancient robot, so long a part of the background furniture of Skyloft life, had drifted to the back of Link’s mind. Fi’s unexpected pronouncement brought it back to the forefront in a flash of surprise and welcome hope.
“Will you help me look?”
Fi sprang from the sword in answer with the whistling chime that had fast become familiar, floating just ahead of Link. She turned slightly, her head tilting back, then slowly down, as she assessed each shelf and its contents in turn. Link watched, feeling slightly useless: he could identify wire, certainly, but little more than that. The many strange devices on the shelves and in the racks and boxes were largely a mystery to him, and while most of them were labelled, he couldn’t read the labels, either.
He knew Fi had succeeded an instant before she turned back to him, the completion of her task registering in his mind as satisfaction.
“I have located suitable components, Master.” As she spoke, she lifted into the air, tilting until she was looking down on him with her back to the ceiling. “I will draw your attention to them when they are within your visual field. I have also located a storage box which you may use to transport them safely. The padding inside has become brittle, but will suffice to prevent the components from damage.”
Link nodded. “Thanks, Fi.”
Her guidance drew him immediately to the box, one of several stacked on a shelf with a label he couldn’t read. Gently, Link drew it from the top of the pile. It looked somewhere between a box and a backpack in design, with a handle mounted on a hinged top that folded down over the other three sides, held with a simple catch, and where Link would have expected straps there were instead strange clips and a flat metal plate, as though it were meant to be attached to something else. Looking at the size of it, summoning up his memories of Bead and of the miners just a short distance away, Link wondered if perhaps it would have clipped to the robots’ backs. It probably would have made more sense than using straps given that some of them hadn’t really had arms, only strange bands of contained energy binding their hands to their bodies.
The catch was stiff, but nothing worse, and Link flipped the top open to look inside. Layers of a strange, spongy material filled the space, shedding bits of itself as dust when he touched it, but largely intact. He pulled a few out, noticing as he did that the interior of the box was also lined with the same material, and turned to the other shelves.
With Fi’s help, finding what he wanted was straightforward, even if he had no idea what it was. His eye was drawn to first one component, then another, and each one he picked up went into the box with a layer of padding over it.
“Is that everything?”
“You have collected all the components necessary to repair the robot in Gondo’s smithy,” Fi confirmed. “You will additionally need a suitable toolkit. Since maintenance was repeatedly performed on the robot in the past, Gondo may be able to provide suitable tools, but toolkits designed for the purpose are available on the rack to your left.”
Link turned, seeing a set of narrow boxes, each with a carrying handle, hanging from a rack, just as Fi had said. He took the front one, hefting it in his hand: it was heavy enough that he could easily believe it was filled with tools.
“We’re really going to be able to repair him?”
“Yes, Master Link.” Fi looked at him for a silent moment. “Unlike the robots here in the Lanayru Desert, all of whom were deactivated over a thousand years ago, the smithy robot was active less than two hundred years ago. Repairs undertaken in the time between the raising of Skyloft and the individual’s eventual deactivation have resulted in replacement of worn parts and a comparative reduction in the deterioration of irreplaceable components. In your terms, the smithy robot is in vastly improved condition compared to those here.”
The confirmation made Link smile, just a little. There, at least, was someone he could simply help.
“Good,” he said aloud. Fi looked on in silence, impassive as always, but he thought she seemed just a little bit pleased as well.
“Now we just need the power converter for the windmill, right?”
Still floating above him with her back to the ceiling, Fi drifted over Link’s head and ‘landed’ on his other side, closer to the shelves she had said contained electrical components.
“That is correct.” Even as she spoke, she was already scanning them as quickly as she had the others. “I detect potentially suitable components here, on this shelf. However, they have significant mass. When added to your current load, the converter will be notably unwieldy, and will reduce your overall rate of travel by at least 20%.”
“Great…” Link sighed. “I don’t have much choice, really, do I? I’m already here, and Beedle might not even have one that fits in the windmill. We’ll just have to take it slowly…”
He put down the other two boxes and reached for the shelf, following the instinct that was Fi guiding his hands, and took down one of the odd, faceted objects. It had holes at both ends that he guessed wires would fit into, and symbols around them that he could only guess were instructions about what wire to put in. As Fi had warned him, it was heavy for its size, feeling more like a lump of solid metal than anything else, and he set it down on the floor quickly.
“Anything else?”
“There are debris blowers racked in this location. The configurable airflow strength and aperture size would render one useful in both cleaning the interior of the robot and in performing the same task within the windmill. However, their shape renders them difficult to carry alongside other objects.”
Looking at the things Fi gestured to, Link could see what she meant: they were, crudely, metal poles with a large sphere on one end and a somewhat oversized-looking nozzle on the other. He’d seen something like it before, only placed it after several seconds as something from the room he’d rested in after being attacked by the chuchu in the ore processing facility. Thinking of it, he repressed the urge to flinch.
“I’ll take it anyway. Maybe I can hook it through my baldric? And one of these…”
Fi watched, expressionless, as her master took a debris blower and knelt on the floor to attempt to strap as many of the items to himself as possible. It took him a couple of attempts to determine a relatively efficient configuration, and he was still forced to carry the power converter in his arms.
“I think this is the best I can do,” Link said resignedly, standing slowly. “I’ll just have to hope there’s nothing to fight on the way out. If I drop this thing…”
Fi inclined her head in a graceful nod. “I will alert you if I detect danger.”
“Thanks.” Link turned to walk back to the door. Fi sprang back into light into the sword as he did, but he kept talking anyway. “You always do. I really appreciate it.”
You are welcome, Master.
Notes:
Spent a bit too long running around in the sun and died a bit; sorry! …Only for the one weekend, I have less excuse for the rest, but you know how it is, one thing puts you behind on everything else and then you’re running to catch up on everything that’s behind, and let’s face it, I love my fic, but (a) I do also actually love my job, and (b) the job pays me, which the fic tragically doesn’t (other than in the appreciation of my readers, which I do always appreciate), and (c) my multi-person hobbies and also volunteering have strict timescales. So here we are again.
Anyway! This will now suffice as an alert to, sadly, expect more of same: one of my hobbies is winding down for the season, but part of my job is ramping up, and I will be insanely busy for the next couple of months. Maybe I’ll be all enthused and do nothing but write fic during my breaks, in which case you’ll get your chapter per week as usual, but also maybe I’ll do other things on my breaks sometimes and then you won’t. (This is pretty much two months of work “from waking to sleeping” rather than the usual hours per day. So yeah. On my breaks.) Come the end of July, I will have massive amounts of free time and it will all return to normal again!
You know… now that I think about it, Hyrule and the rest of the world won’t have any fossil fuels. We can track back to when it was created, and it wasn’t even one million years ago, never mind a few billion, so coal and oil just… aren’t, and neither are fossils of any kind. Unless Din, Nayru, and Farore felt like inventing them, but I don’t see any particularly good reason for that. Oil and coal are helpful for the old tech tree in the particular way we on Earth took it, sure, but I’m pretty sure you can get by without: you can make charcoal, and there are plenty of other energy sources, several of which have been used for much longer than oil has.
Patch Notes
- Replacement parts for robot tech available in robot civilisation.
- Super special magic flower squeezings replaced with assorted internal components.
- Use found for configurable air blower.
Chapter 74: A Welcome Beacon
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link had managed to reach his landing point before dark, but only barely. The sun had been sinking low behind its thin veil of cloud when he called to his loftwing from the statue, and the red bird had dived towards him, glad but weary from what Link realised with a sinking heart had been almost a full day of flying circles above the clouds, waiting for his return. They wouldn’t have long to get back to Skyloft before night fell, and the loftwing was already tired.
Link had considered camping overnight, but neither he nor his bird could have stood to be reunited only for the deep and overriding fear of being below the clouds to drive the red loftwing away again. He’d considered what he could leave behind, what could be stowed away inside the entrance to the mine for him to come back and collect the next day, when they had both rested, but he was so close to restoring the broken robot in Gondo’s smithy that he couldn’t bring himself to leave behind the boxes of parts and tools that were magically all he needed to bring a person back to life.
He’d considered leaving the power converter behind, so that if Beedle didn’t have one he could just fly out to recover it and back again, and only take a few hours instead of the two days it had taken him to find it and bring it this far. He needed it, urgently, and yet if Beedle did have one, it wouldn’t even matter.
His loftwing had shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable already below the clouds and his discomfort only growing, and Link had dashed back to the mine entrance to leave the power converter tucked safely inside, hurrying back to the anxious bird and pointing him up to the top of the statue; climbing back up stop it himself so that they could get aloft from a height rather than a running start. They’d leapt together from the edge, broad red wings snapping out with a jolting shock, pulling up and up and beating away from the harsh sands of the desert, up to the break in the milky clouds and back into the safety and freedom of the sky above. As they passed the clouds, the red loftwing’s tension had fallen away, and their only worry had become how far away Skyloft was, how fast they could race the oncoming night to reach it. Weary wings and the extra weight Link was carrying slowed them as determination drove them on. Skyloft had been in sight below, Link and his loftwing flying as high as they could to keep the very last of the fading light from a sun that had already vanished behind a distant, ominous thunderhead, a dark shape in dimness becoming minute by minute more of a vanishing smudge, flecked with dimly flickering yellow glows as much like a colony of fireflies mimicking the stars above as they were the lights behind windows that Link knew them for.
They were too late. Too late, and he and his bird could no longer see with any certainty where they would land, or whether they would fly into the lightless Spring Isle that poured equally invisible water in a drifting curtain down into Skyloft’s lake. A beautiful sight and invigorating to swim under when it wasn’t too strong, but a deadly flight hazard, impossible to see in the dark. Or the gaily flapping bunting that hung over the marketplace, warning loftwings off from landing atop the stretched canvas roof – and a line that would foul and snap wings, sending bird and rider tumbling to their fate. Even the trees, low and stunted though Link now knew they were compared to those on the surface: green hummocks that offered no support, only yielding, snapping twigs and branches to catch and snare a loftwing, too heavy for all but the lowest, thickest branches.
Yet there was nowhere else to go. With a full moon, they could have seen well enough to land, but the moon was new, invisible in the dark sky, and even the stars whose light Link could have seen by well enough to guide his loftwing were largely occluded by a blanket of high cloud, which had been reflecting the last of the sun down to them until at last it had vanished. Fresh, they could have glided all night and sought safety in the morning, but Link’s loftwing had already been flying all day on little food, and Link himself with all his gear and the tools and parts from the mines was a noticeably greater burden than usual. On any of the smaller scattered islands near Skyloft they wouldn’t even have the flickering lights of people’s windows to guide them towards the rough level of the ground. It was Skyloft or nothing, and Link’s increasing panic matched and fed back upon his brave bird’s, a catch in the throat and in the hollows of their respective hearts, a flinch at the thought of extending long legs downwards into the unseen unknown. Even with special training and equipped with directional lanterns, loftwings were reluctant to fly at night; their night vision was terrible and it was up to the rider at least as much as the bird to navigate; everyone knew it was stupid to fly at night, that was why the Light Tower was-
Where was the Light Tower? Dragging in a breath along with a burst of hope, Link leant dangerously far over his loftwing’s side, searching the faint constellation of twinkling lights below. In the darkness, it was hard to keep track of their orientation: was the south of the island in that direction? Or in another? Tall enough to stand even above the top of Market Hill, the beacon atop the Light Tower was lit at night and in bad weather to guide loftwings in trouble back to safety, a landing platform protruding from its side to give them somewhere to perch. So where was it? Wasn’t it lit? How could the Light Tower not be lit? Had something he had done in the windmills-
Master, Fi said soundlessly, I am able to assess your location with respect to the island. You are almost directly above the southernmost point of Skyloft.
“So where’s the Light Tower, Fi?” Link couldn’t help the strain in his voice, trying fruitlessly to will the tension from his muscles as his loftwing banked into a slow, circling, gliding descent.
The Light Tower’s beacon is a rotary mechanism, directing a light beam horizontally outwards from the top of the tower. Link knew that – everyone did – but Fi’s calm voice and the sense that she was explaining something were at least faintly reassuring. However, to avoid water entering the mechanism and to preserve the comfort of the mechanism’s operator, the Light Tower is equipped with a domed roof. It is not possible to see the beacon from directly above. The brightness of the beacon is clearly insufficient for you to observe the faint illumination it casts upon the near side of the Market Hill.
“Of course – of course!” Link almost laughed in sheer relief. He felt so stupid, both for getting caught out in the night at all, and for not realising that the Light Tower would be basically invisible from above. The tension in his bird’s body eased along with his own, broad wings more confidently riding the still somewhat contrary wind as they circled gently down.
I will indicate the position of the top of the Light Tower within your awareness, Master. This will additionally enable you to communicate it to your loftwing. I recommend flying a short distance to the south, then descending until the beam is visible. This will afford you maximum opportunity to locate the landing platform affixed to the tower.
Even as Fi spoke, Link felt that faint, unerring guidance once again, telling him that he knew where the Light Tower was, and even as he thought it and thought of the plan his loftwing knew and understood it too. They veered back out of the turn and glided south, flapping occasionally against a contrary wind and descending slowly all the time, until at last Link leant his weight sideways as his bird banked sharply back around, and the light of the beacon was suddenly visible at long last ahead and below, flicking steadily on and off in the darkness as it turned to sweep across them and point away once more.
On, off, on, off, on, off, not quite in time to the red bird’s determined, weary wingbeats.
On, off, on, off, on, off as they drew closer and closer to a light that seemed brighter and brighter.
On, off, on, off, on, off, as Link squinted into the light to make out the landing platform, illuminated further by a figure wrapped up warm in bulky clothing and holding a lantern aloft, waving it gently in the moments when the Light Tower’s welcoming beam had swept onwards to leave them in the dark.
On, off, on, off, on, off, so that the platform was strobe-lit and every wingbeat looked like a stop-start motion as they shed the last of their speed and stretched out long legs for the welcome safety of the solid tower, landing with a jolt as the platform wasn’t quite where they had thought it was, but that didn’t matter. As the red loftwing shook out his wings and finally, finally folded them to his sides in weary relief; as Link swung down from his bird’s back and threw his arms about the long, strong neck in a relieved and grateful hug, all that mattered was that they were safely back on Skyloft after all.
“That was a late one,” an unfamiliar voice said, and Link turned slowly, letting his arms slip from his loftwing, to see the figure who had helped to guide them in now looking at him critically from under a warm, down-lined hat. “What were you thinking, flying so late?” Dark eyes raked him head to toe; flicked to his loftwing, who looked weary enough to tuck his head beneath his wing and sleep right there in the flashing light of the beacon. “That bird’s exhausted. And you… you must be Link, aren’t you, the one everyone is talking about. Don’t you know better than to try flying at night?”
Link nearly bowed his head under the scrutiny, forced himself to lift it instead, meeting the middle-aged man’s eyes, dark above a neat moustache. “I know. We wouldn’t have done it if I had realised, and it’s my fault. We had a several-hour flight, and I thought we would just have time, but my loftwing had been in the air most of the day, and when the sun went behind the thunderhead out to the west, we lost the last of the light quicker than I realised we would. By then we were already close to Skyloft, and we had to risk some kind of landing. We couldn’t have stayed aloft all night.” It was hard to say the words, harder still to keep his head up as he did, explaining exactly what he knew all too well they had done wrong. But the beacon-keeper’s eyes softened, and he held out a hand, which Link slightly hesitantly took.
“Well, at least you know it. Too many land here without a thought in their heads beyond ‘oh no, where did the sun go?’. And I tell them it went to the same place it does every night, as they ought to have noticed by now, not being chicks in the nest. Come on – let’s get you and that bird inside. He’ll have to spend the night up here, but he can do it behind a screen so the light doesn’t bother him, at least. And you’ll take a hot tea before you go crossing back to the Knight Academy in the darkness. Or stay here, if you want, but there’s only a cramped pallet down below. Might be better than crossing the island, though. I tell you, whatever’s got into the wind has got into the animals, too. Most anything small has been evid of a night these last couple of days, even more than usual. Rats, mice, keese, you name it.”
As he spoke, he guided Link in, unfazed by the brilliant flashing of the beacon, even blinking, Link realised as he watched him, in time with its passing. The red loftwing followed behind, uncertain in the sweeping light but trusting in Link’s guiding hand, trailed out behind him to touch his bird’s soft plumage and lead him onwards. Before Link quite knew it, he had got a screen erected beside a support column for the loftwing to perch behind, blocking out only a little more of the light beam than the column itself did, then led Link onwards down a narrow staircase and into a cramped little room out of the wind that held the promised pallet bed and a small stove on which a large kettle simmered gently. Opening a jar, the beacon-keeper took a carefully-measured spoon of dried leaves from it, binding them into a twist of cloth and dropping the lot into a mug, there to be met with hot water from the kettle, so that less than a minute later Link was sat on the low bed with a mug of hot tea in his hands, the beacon-keeper perched at the top of the curving stairs where he could see both the dark night skies and Link at the same time and glance from one to the other.
As he sipped his tea under the beacon-keeper’s kind eyes, Link found the pallet he was sat on felt far more inviting than his soft Academy bunk more than halfway across Skyloft. Before he quite knew it, he was asking if it would be all right if he stayed, then pulling himself free of his gear and everything he’d hooked through belt and baldric.
In the morning, he would go to the marketplace to look at the robot, and he’d be there and ready when Beedle arrived. In the morning…
Notes:
I thought this would be the Scrapper chapter with a three-to-four-paragraph recap at the beginning, but no, we ended up on a massive detour into night flying (bad idea) and the importance of having an actually functional lighthouse (excellent idea)! And before I knew it I had written this whole chapter and hit what felt like a good stopping point with Link resting up in the Light Tower, so here we are, Scrapper gets a day in the sun next weekend instead. I have some thoughts about why that particular robot is the way he is which I think should make him at least much more understandable, if maybe not any more polite.
Patch Notes
- Knights no longer fly endless circles around Skyloft at night in the vague hope of spotting something stupid happening.
- Light Tower now produces light as part of its regular operations, not just once in a thousand years. You'd think they'd have taken it apart for the stone by now if it wasn't actually useful in some way!
- Safety mechanism for birds with minimal night vision caught out at night introduced.
- Danger of trying to land on anything you can't see pointed out!
Chapter 75: Scrapper
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning had seen Link hurrying to the market, stopping only to get a quick breakfast from the Bird’s Feather. Piper, the owner, had been working in the kitchen as she so often did, thankfully more focused on getting everyone to follow her latest recipe exactly than on questioning Link, so he’d been able to pay and eat without too much fuss. As soon as he’d bolted the food, he hastened onwards to Gondo’s smithy, where the robot waited for him.
“Hey, kid!” Gondo greeted him. “What’s up? You look like you need to get something off your chest… and I think I know what it is. You’ve got a favour to ask me, right?”
“Sort of,” Link said. “It’s about the robot…”
“Huh?”
“I-” think I – no, Fi knows I do – “have the parts to fix him!”
“You…” Gondo’s eyes darted back and forth as if he could study Link’s words visually, and his mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. Link grinned despite himself, sharing in the smith’s jubilation, if less so in his shock.
“You got the parts?! You got the parts to fix him?! You believed me about the little guy and you went to the surface where you said you saw one before and you found the parts?!” He was almost hopping up and down in excitement. “Come in, come in! Show me! If you really found the parts, we can have him up and running again in no time! Come on!”
Gondo lifted up the counter flap, and Link stepped inside, following the bigger man into the back room where the remains of the robot lay forlorn by the wall. Gondo scooped them up, calloused hands quick and careful, then spun to carry them to the workbench he more normally used for little repairs to people’s things, setting them down with utmost care.
“So what do we need? Show me what you’ve got!” He fished in a drawer under the workbench and withdrew a ragged, well-thumbed, slightly disintegrating book. “Gramps passed on this old book about how he goes together, and it tells you about all the tools, and even the parts if anyone knew what half these words meant. Most of the tools aren’t a problem, but-”
Rather than interrupt the smith’s flow, Link simply and with some relief hefted first the toolbox, then the box of parts, onto the table, following it up with the debris blower and finally the small power core he’d picked up from another one. Once again, Gondo was struck dumb as Link flipped open both boxes and began to carefully unpack the layers of padding around the parts, setting each one down on its own piece of padding. The smith only managed to find his voice as Link was lifting out the last one.
“Breath of the goddess, this is actually going to work!” Gondo looked like a man who’d just had a lifetime of marvels and riches dumped into his lap. “You’re incredible, kid! And to think I didn’t think you’d even believe me about him! Right, let’s get him opened up. The book says…” Gondo trailed off, flicking through the tatty-edged pages, written on in half a dozen slightly different hands in different shades and ages of ink until he found the one he was looking for, showing a diagram of the robot’s back with annotations explaining how a panel there would come away.
Fi chose that moment to emerge from the sword, her soft chime and striking appearance startling Gondo still further.
“How…?”
“This is Fi, the spirit of the sword,” Link explained quickly. “She’s the one who actually knows how to fix him. I just picked up the parts she told me. She can help you find everything you need to replace.”
“The one from the stories the mayor’s had told about you?”
Link nodded, slightly embarrassed. He appreciated that Headmaster Gaepora and Mayor Herrene were telling people what had happened so that he didn’t have to, but still…
“Well, wow,” Gondo said frankly. “It’s great to meet you, Fi!”
Fi inclined her head. “I have identified the components that require replacement. If you wish, I can direct you in accessing them.”
“Of… of course!” Gondo seemed rather blown away by it all, but struggled determinedly to stay on track. Link felt more than a little sympathy for him. “Thank you!”
“First,” Fi began, “remove the rear access panel, as highlighted in your book...”
* * *
The first thing he registered was significantly fewer errors. Every boot was a litany of them, waking up and cataloguing a list of infirmities that only ever grew longer. They piled into his awareness even as that awareness reassembled itself from his circuits, so that if he were human he would have been waking to creaking joints and aching muscles; to a dull headache and enforced feebleness and clouded eyes. But they were reduced or altered: he had some degree of strength again, sight again, processing power again.
Internal chronometer error: battery depleted. meant that he didn’t know what time it was, how long it had been; meant that his power core had run into the redline and stayed there for long enough that the tiny backup battery powering his sense of time had failed: that Cryn had to have exerted all her skills and then some to bring him back, find some way to coax a little extra reserve from a core that had cycled and cycled long beyond its original acceptable usage parameters, until he was shutting down every day just to conserve the last fading dregs of power. Even now he automatically transmitted an immediate query/request in the audio band as he woke up, a trill of elegantly modulated waveforms that encoded an entire paragraph of information into the space of two seconds: “Is anyone there? What time is it? Someone has conducted repairs; was it you? I feel better. How long has it been? Tell me what I’ve missed,” all with a sad and slightly desperate subtext of I am alone, please talk to me!
There was, of course, no answer, but some protocols were too deeply-programmed, some instincts too strong to ignore. He was the last of his people, and no-one had been there to answer his good-morning queries for many decades, spare parts from the last of them used to patch him back together the way parts from the first to die had been used to patch the rest, trading increasingly decrepit components from the dead to the living as all the time the line between them grew thinner and thinner. Cryn, good as she was, had never known any of the others, the last of them dead long before she had been born.
Even more unwelcome, as his visual processing protocols finally pulled themselves together and sorted sense out of his optical sensors’ data, one sensor new and with only two dead pixels so that all his visual calibration routines themselves would have to be recalibrated and he narrowed the shutter aperture to a curved slit to temporarily compensate, was that not even Cryn was there with him. Testing primary and secondary propulsion units – the secondary had been installed long years before when his primary propulsion unit’s useful power output had dropped too low, and took the form of what he considered a slightly ridiculous propeller on a stem atop his head – he took off, flying a quick circuit of the confined space in search of Cryn, or indeed any person or item he recognised. It was sufficient to identify his location as the marketplace-facing side of the forge, but it didn’t look at all like he remembered it.
He had a bad feeling about this.
Looking at the three figures within the forge, he identified the larger human with the toolkit as the most probable source of his recent repairs. The other, smaller human, and the source of modulated electromagnetic emissions beside him…
He shunted that image back for secondary and tertiary analysis. It was logically inconsistent with the entirety of the rest of his surroundings, and was potentially a phantom in his awareness, a hallucination. He’d never experienced them, but some of the others had, their processors and programs failing earlier and in stranger ways. Had he been largely restored but left with one or more corrupted chips? Regardless, the larger human was certainly real, even if he was looking up at him with almost as gormless a grin as the other one.
“Thank you!” he declared, and spat a musical descriptor of his appreciation alongside it, even if the human wouldn’t be able to make out all but the grossest frequency modulations. “My power core is replenished and my range of motion is largely restored! I’m good to go!”
And it did feel good, for the first time in decades or perhaps centuries. He wasn’t good as new, no, but he was at least 80% functional. How had they managed it? Whoever they were. And what had become of Cryn? And-
And the tertiary analysis reported back with the same conclusions as all the others: the appearance of the shorter, green-clad human was, in fact, fully consistent in every matter with his having been present in the environment. The emission source was not, precisely, but that was in itself consistent with her also being present in the environment: her true housing protruded over the human’s shoulder.
“Huh…?”
This was not acceptable.
Reluctantly conceding the need to gather more data, he approached the shorter human slightly.
“Who is this green-clad individual of small stature?”
At the same time, the larger one, his repairer, was exclaiming joyfully. “WHOA! It talked! He talked! Can you believe that? I guess we really did fix him!” He then, clearly, processed the question. “This kid gave me the materials I needed to fix you! I’m Gondo, and he’s Link. Go on! Thank him too!”
“…Hmmm,” he responded doubtfully. The smaller human looked altogether too similar to one he had encountered briefly before. That human, too, had borne the same elegant housing of a machine mind frankly far beyond the level of his own.
That human had failed her terribly, and all of them with her.
“Are you sure it was him?” he asked rudely, spitting an auditory data packet containing estimated calculations of various related probabilities. The humans couldn’t understand it, and what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
Regrettably, Gondo nodded.
“Well, then I extend my reluctant thanks to you in a gesture of obligatory gratitude.” It was not in the least bit gracious. He hadn’t been gracious in half a millennium. What was there to be gracious about? The humans needed him for some things and not at all for others, and all any of it meant was that while they kept on reproducing and self-repairing and dying and reproducing more, his people were keeping the island’s core systems together and fading and failing one by one.
“Heyyyy now!” Gondo said, his raised voice dragging out the ‘hey’ in a frankly aggravating manner. “Watch it! That’s no way to talk to someone who just saved your life! Listen, this kid’s on a dangerous quest, and you owe him one! You ought to be looking for ways to help him!”
Absolutely not.
“Hmmph.” He’d taken to emulating the humans’ various thinking and disgusted noises. They weren’t as data-rich as an auditory burst, but they conveyed the sentiment much more effectively to the humans’ sadly limited hearing. “This individual may have helped to restore my operations, but I am not inclined to offer assistance.” He spat another data packet in emphasis: Similar human {query:relative?} displayed insufficient capability in previous years! Selected to provide service and transport for {ultimate-design-goal-reached:machine-spirit} but failed to even fight with efficiency! Consequences permanent and irreversible and machine-spirit lost; machine people of the Cycle condemned! “Assisting juveniles is very low in my task priority.” Another burst in frustration: Immature specimen unlikely to demonstrate improvement!
She turned her too-human, illusory head to look at him, the motion a perfect mimic for the one the humans made, under exquisite control.
“Fi?” the green-clad human, Link, asked, concern in his voice. For a single, perfect second her response fell upon the radio band alone, a brief transmission it was an honour to receive.
Your analysis is incorrect and is lacking in multiple factors.
Even if she was correcting him about this infuriatingly juvenile human.
“Who are you?” he ventured in the slow human tongue, elaborating on and filling out the question in another databurst. Is it really you, returned? {pinnacle:machine-spirit} Fi?
Fi inclined her head. Yes.
“May I call you Mistress Fi? Do you need anything located? Transported? Repaired?” He could do any of those things – all of those things! Much better than either that human with her or his predecessor! He’d show them both: he’d keep going until he broke down, with absolutely no fear or cowardice or clumsiness or whatever it was that human did that had got him killed and Fi, peerless Fi, lost to the world for centuries. They didn’t know he had died, but given that the islands hadn’t exactly sunk again and neither he nor the goddess had returned, it was clearly apparent that nothing else could have happened.
I require you to assist my master, Link, in any matters for which you have suitable skills.
Her transmission was calm, without emotional signifiers of any nature, but it was still received as something of a zap in the face.
“I… I understand,” he said human-audibly, a far more subdued data packet affirming that fact. “At your request, I will locate, transport, or repair anything Link requires, regardless of weight, location, or destination.”
Fi’s projected electromagnetic image looked at him gravely for a moment, then turned back to that human, Link.
“Master, with this individual’s aid we now possess the means to transport items beyond your and your loftwing’s carrying capacity, as well as to make limited repairs on items of advanced technology.”
“Thanks…” Link said, sounding uncertain. As well he might. Well, he wasn’t going to get a Master Link from him!
“Master Shortpants!” It had the desired effect: Link looked slightly awkward, and Gondo snickered. “I offer assistance! I can detect Mistress Fi’s” the slightest hesitation, the slightest break: did the juvenile human even know what a radio wave was? Probably not. “thought waves.” Still, just to be on the safe side, he added a databurst explaining radio waves. It wasn’t his fault the human couldn’t interpret it. “Should you need me, ask Mistress Fi to call me, and I will arrive with haste!” Another one followed with his current estimated airspeed, lifting power, and other useful parameters.
“Thank you,” Link said again. The repetition wasn’t endearing. “Say…”
Ah. There it came. Some trivial, ignominious request.
“What’s your name?”
Oh. He hadn’t expected that.
“My personal identifier is 53B09E-42AF77-3AD401-6A686C.” If he’d sent it as a databurst, it would have had a light, trilling warble to it. “But since you can’t even remember that, you can call me Scrapper. Everyone else does.” He paused. “Did.” However long he’d been inactive, it was long enough that Cryn wasn’t there. Not even a version of her, a crumpled old-woman Cryn with this Gondo her grandchild. They bickered incessantly, but month after month, year after year, she had poured her every skill into patching up his failing parts without a word of complaint for the actual difficulties of the task, and in turn he’d have done his level best to drag the island through the sky if she’d asked him to. She’d been a better friend than the ‘acceptable’ she’d once wrung from him and crowed about for days, and he would probably have told her that one day before she got around to dying, except perhaps he had got around to dying first after all, because she wasn’t there.
“I’m sorry,” Link said quietly.
“Yes, well.” He turned, shifting his focus and looking around as he did, and stopped. “What purpose do all these other humans have here?” A small crowd appeared to have gathered at Gondo’s shop counter, all staring in to watch their conversation.
“They must be here to see you!” Gondo announced proudly. “Nobody but me and Link believed you even could be fixed any more, but you can show ’em all now, eh?”
“I am not a display item!” he snapped, emphasising it with the sharp blat of a databurst expressing his precise opinion on the matter.
“Come on, you can’t blame them for being curious,” Gondo said enthusiastically. “You’ve been piled in the back of the smithy since before my grandpa’s time! He told me all the stories he got off his auntie about how you used to be able to fly around and talk and stuff!”
“Exactly how long has it been since I was deactivated?” He’d been a curio to many people for long enough while he was still active, but not like this.
“Well…” Gondo scratched his head. “I think Grandpa’s auntie was properly a great-aunt, or something like that… and Grandpa is… let me think…”
It was, he confirmed to himself with a feeling like lead weighting down his circuits, a very long time.
Notes:
Here we are, one Scrapper! No more polite to Link and no less subservient to Fi, with as much of his original dialogue preserved as possible, but hopefully a bit more understandable even if he is still annoying! When I started thinking about it, I realised the last millennium can’t have been that good to the little guy – and that alone would make some sense of his behaviour. If only it were so much as mentioned in the game… Even his name isn’t exactly the world’s most complimentary reference, referring to both combativeness and junk, and he’s well aware of both aspects.
The Hell Months have begun, so while I will try to keep updating every Sunday, I make absolutely no promises until late July. Sorry for any gaps in updating.
Patch Notes
- Scrapper now aware of the backstory he logically must have existed during.
- Backstory provides believable reasons for him to be the way he is.
I wish I could get some kind of insight that would get me a chapter that made Groose make sense to me in any way other than “this man has literally only one neuron in his head and hasn’t even worked out that he is a person, much less anyone else”, but even after all this time I still haven’t managed that. Maybe I will before we see him again. We can hope!
Chapter 76: Once More
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
For once, everyone’s attention had stayed fixed on Scrapper and Gondo at the forge as Link had quietly and thankfully slipped away, carrying the unwieldy debris blower, but leaving the toolbox and the now-empty box of parts behind. Not much further away, Peatrice had moved to the near end of her counter, her eyes open for once as she watched the crowd at Gondo’s smithy with a mixture of curiosity and frustration. Her gaze flicked to Link as he approached, but she said nothing and looked away again resignedly, and Link wondered how much she thought he was going to simply walk by, ignoring her.
The moment he’d thought it, it felt far too cruel to do. A second later, he realised that if he left the debris blower with her, then he wouldn’t have to carry it up to the Airshop, and he could get it back whenever he needed it, even if that was just half an hour later.
“Peatrice?”
Peatrice blinked, startled, as Link stopped at her counter to speak: she clearly had expected him to pass her by.
“Oh! Link, er, I mean, yes and welcome to Skyloft’s one and only Baggage Check… Do you need me to get something out?”
“Actually, I wanted to ask if you could hold on to something for me, please?”
A smile blossomed across Peatrice’s face. “Of course! Just hand it over.”
Link set the debris blower on the counter between them, and Peatrice frowned at it curiously.
“What is this? I’ve never seen anything like it! Is it… some sort of weapon?”
Link shook his head. “No. Well, maybe to spiders… It’s for blowing away dust and dirt. It was made by the robot people in the desert. I brought it back to help the robot in Gondo’s smithy, and to clean some machinery in the windmills if I have to.”
Peatrice’s eyes were wide as saucers. “The robot in the back of the smithy? Is that what everyone is doing over there? I thought those stories were all made up by Gondo’s grandpa!”
Again, Link shook his head. “No, they’re real. He’s real. His name’s Scrapper. He, uh… He seems to like Fi, at any rate.”
“Fi? That’s the spirit of the sword, right? Sent by the goddess herself to aid you?”
“Something like that.” Link glanced over his shoulder at the pale hilt, where he could sense Fi’s presence, alert but quiescent. Peatrice followed his gaze, her eyes widening again as she realised that the unusual swordhilt had to be the blade that featured in all the stories being passed around the island.
“Gosh,” she said frankly. After a moment, she realised she was staring and looked away, speaking again quickly. “But he doesn’t like you or Gondo?”
“Just me, I think, really,” Link said. “I don’t know why. He seems to think I’m too young.” It felt like more than that, but nothing Scrapper had said had given him much of a clue.
“That’s silly. Mayor Herrene, Father Kaeber, even the headmaster at the Knight Academy, all think you’re the best person to be doing… everything you’re doing! I don’t think you’re too young at all.” She paused for a moment, looking slightly embarrassed. “Not that I know… anything about it, really… Er, anyway, I’ll just need your storage token and I’ll get this put away for you.”
Link’s face fell. He’d completely forgotten about it when he’d decided to stop and talk to Peatrice. “Oh… right. I’m sorry. It’s in my room.” I think. It was probably in one of his desk drawers, but he hadn’t used it since his last visit home.
“Well…” Peatrice bit her lower lip briefly. “I suppose, since I know who you are, I can sign this in without it. But you have to promise not to tell my dad. I’m not supposed to do that.” She sighed, somewhere between annoyed and resigned. “Not that he’s ever back here any more to find out.”
“Is… everything okay?”
“What, with my dad? That’s so sweet of you to ask! He’s fine. He’s just obsessed with working out since someone told him he’d got fat. Now he flies off to some island every week to ‘train’ in secret…” She rolled her eyes. “And I’m stuck here minding this counter. Can you think of anything more boring?”
“Well, not easily,” Link admitted, and Peatrice laughed.
“At least it’s more interesting when you’re here. I’ve never seen anything at all like this before.” She hesitated. “Would you show me how it works?”
“Sure!” Link picked up the debris blower, turning it so the controls were pointing over the counter towards Peatrice. “This switch thing here on the handgrip turns it on, and it stays on for as long as you hold it. And the two sliders here control how much air you get out and how hard it blows. Fi says the words by them say ‘aperture’ and ‘jet strength’. It’s pretty strong at the highest settings, but…” He turned the jet strength down to its minimum, and offered it to her. “If you want, you can try it out” – a slightly mischievous thought entered his mind, and he spoke without thinking – “on some of that dust?”
Peatrice’s laugh rewarded him as she took it from his hands, turning it around and balancing it at her waist. “My enemy, I- oh!” She’d turned it on, and the sudden thrum and stream of air clearly surprised her. “Oh, look at this! Hehe!” Peatrice played the airstream around for a little, directing it into corners and the underside of her counter, then briefly up at the sign over her head to watch it flap, before taking her hand off the switch again and looking at Link gratefully. “Thank you, Link. I never get to do anything new any more! I’ll sign it in and put it away with your things, but, um… would you mind if I used it one more time to get rid of some of the dust in the back?”
Link chuckled. “No, not at all! I might be back in a few hours if I need it again, I’m not sure – I have to go up to the Airshop next and see if Beedle has something I need.”
“Okay, then I won’t keep you.” Peatrice set the debris blower down and hauled out the massive logbook, dropping it on her counter with a thump. “I’ll just get that signed in…”
“Thanks, Peatrice,” Link said with a smile.
“Thank you, Link! I appreciate it, err, your business!”
Link waved goodbye as he set off in the opposite direction from Gondo’s stall, something more of a spring back in his step after the cheerful conversation. He looked back for just long enough to catch Peatrice waving back, the debris blower balanced across her counter and a pen in her other hand as she finished the entry in her records.
* * *
It had taken some time for the Airshop to round the marketplace to where Link had been standing outside the south entrance, and it was a small relief to reach the top of the ladder and hurry around into Beedle’s shop. The constant grinding rumble of its workings reminded Link once again of the desert, and of Scrapper, last remnants of a long-lost era.
“Hello,” Beedle gasped, before looking around and faltering in his pedalling. “Oh… Link… Great…” He looked so woebegone that Link had to ask.
“What’s the matter?”
“Well, you see, it’s about your order…”
“You didn’t have a power converter? It’s okay.”
“No, no!” Beedle said. “I had one, and it would have been just perfect for your needs, too! I loaded it up along with a few more boxes of stock – but when I was about halfway back here, something happened. I don’t know what to call it! It felt like it’d tear the Airshop apart! That cloud column was still there, but suddenly, it turned into an enormous fountain of smoke, and I saw this… ripple go through the cloud layer, and there was a sound like thunder, and the whole Airshop was thrown around the sky like a toy, and… Well, the cargo hatch gave up and everything just… dropped. I have sails on the crates so I can catch them, but the old shop felt like it was going to fall to bits, and my loftwing, he got hit by another bang, or maybe the same bang catching up with him but not as bad, and… Well, the long and the short of it is, all my new stock and your power converter all fell down below the clouds in the middle of the Shadow Sea…” Beedle almost wilted, and only the fact that he had to keep pedalling seemed to keep him upright for a moment. “I don’t know what to tell people. I can’t get a reputation for losing stock, or people’s orders. No-one will ever sell to me or order anything from me ever again! I bet you won’t order anything again after this. And now I don’t even have a transformer for when my current one gives up…”
Link didn’t know what to think. He’d never heard of anything like what Beedle had just described. Had it been Ghirahim, the demon lord finding some way to strike against the people of the sky? Even as he thought it, Fi’s musical voice sounded in his mind, her words calming the worst of his fears. Master Link, Beedle’s description is consistent with the potential effects of an explosive volcanic eruption, significantly reduced by the cloud barrier’s protective properties, which appear to have preserved his life. It is highly probable that his cargo landed upon the slopes of the volcano below. If it did not fall into the lava, it is further probable that it may remain intact due to the precaution he describes of attaching sailcloths to his crates, which will have significantly reduced the impact of their landing.
“How dangerous would it be to go and get them, Fi?”
Volcanic eruptions are unpredictable without sufficient and precise data, Master Link. However, I estimate a 70% probability that the volcano will not erupt again within the next three days. This should provide an adequate search window.
Link nodded, ignoring the funny looks Beedle was giving him in between glancing back out of the window to make sure he stayed on course. “Could you use Beedle’s aura to help find them easier?”
Yes, Master. There is a 64% probability that I will be able to locate any item that has been in Beedle’s possession for an extended period, using the data I have gathered on his aura. I will additionally be able to detect the materials that make up the modulated multi-way transformer that we seek, many of which are not native to the slopes of Eldin Volcano.
“That’s great.” Link took a deep breath, refocusing on Beedle. “Beedle, I’m going to try and find your crates for you. Fi thinks the bang you felt was the volcano – the thing under the clouds that makes that column of smoke. If you had sailcloths on all your crates, everything could still be okay down there. If it is, I can get it back.”
“You can do that?!” Once again, Beedle was so shocked he almost stopped pedalling.
“I think so, anyway. And I really need that power converter, so I have to go and look.” The volcano was a shorter flight away than the desert, and while he did know exactly where the one he’d left in the desert was, if he could get Beedle’s crates back…
“Thank you!” Beedle cried. “Oh, I don’t know what to say! Just be careful!”
Link smiled faintly. “I will.”
Notes:
It's been a long, long time, but I'm finally here! So much work – but the extra-heavy load is all over now, pretty much, and I finally have my time to myself! Expect a chapter a week for the foreseeable future! (I promise to do my best not to get too distracted replaying Shadow of Mordor, which is the other thing I'm doing at the moment…)
As usual when I've been away, I feel like I have a bit of a hill to climb to get back to writing everything and everyone exactly the same way I was before. So if this chapter seems slightly out of sorts, I apologise! Perfection is, tragically, the enemy of posting, and if I don't just put it up there I'll never get another chapter written at all. ^^'
This week Ardil learnt: some things an erupting volcano can sound like. And also this video of one going off as seen from a boat. Look at that cloud ring! Listen to that bang! Which I found reading this article about the bang from the 1883 Krakatoa eruption, so it's probably not fake? But I hate that you can't tell any more. For all I know the video is fake, the article is fake, and I should have just stuck to using videogame volcanoes as my only reference even though even I know they're blatantly wrong in various ways. SIGH.
Patch Notes
- Peatrice interactions expanded further with the goal of making her arc more believable.
- Implausible windmill that had blown a massively implausible distance and then implausibly been perfectly fine on the volcano for years replaced with just-lost cargo crates dropped from directly above.
Chapter 77: Winds of Chance
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Link dropped through the ash plume, the wind whistling in his ears. Eyes open behind his rapidly-dirtying goggles, breathing clear air thanks to the Sheikah mask tied securely over his nose and mouth, he angled his body to sideslip out of the worst of the plume as soon as he was below the clouds.
The red glow of the volcano below was no less eerie and oppressive for having seen it before. Rivers of molten rock trickled slowly down its sides from the smoking, grumbling peak just as they had before, branching around stubborn outcrops or emerging abruptly from below the ground.
Master, my analysis of the prevailing winds in this region suggests that you should land on the southern slope of the volcano.
Link tilted his body in response, angling his fall further as the ground below rapidly rushed up to meet them, throwing his arms up and the sailcloth wide only at the last possible safe moment in an attempt to keep it out of the dirty air as much as he could. It snapped open with a jolt, yanking him upright and slowing his fall, and he drifted down while looking around as best he could for any large white expanses that would signify Beedle’s lost goods by their collapsed sailcloths. There, by that outcrop, was that-
But the outcrop vanished behind another rock, and the flat area he’d targeted was right below him: Link braced for impact, dropping to his knees as he landed, his own sailcloth falling around him in billowing folds. Working quickly in case of danger, he cleared it off himself and straightened up, looking around.
He was higher up the volcano than the place he’d landed in last time: he’d deliberately aimed about as high as he safely could, expecting it to give him a better vantage point to choose his path from. To his left, the land fell away to what would probably have been a stunning view if the sky hadn’t been so choked with volcanic ash. Ahead, a partial wall of tumbled rock gave way to an open space beyond. And to the right…
Link’s breath caught as he realised that the cliff face to the right was carved with grand columns and half-concealed reliefs not yet fully buried beyond a blanket of ash, nor yet fully eroded by time, or the eruptions of the volcano, or the hostility of the bokoblins that had colonised its slopes and lizard-things that lurked within its caves. At its base stood a pair of grand stone doors, one standing ajar. It was the ancient temple, the very place he had ventured into following Zelda’s trail. Though no squeals or hisses emanated from its depths, the sight of the darkness beyond those doors was more than enough to remind him of all that lurked within.
“Fi, you don’t sense Ghirahim around here, do you?”
I do not, Fi confirmed calmly. I detect a base level of demonic activity within the temple, indicating that it is still occupied by the creatures which we faced previously. In our immediate surroundings, I detect minimal hostile activity.
“That’s a relief…” Link sighed. He didn’t want to encounter Ghirahim again any more than he had to – and nor, he thought, did Fi. “I thought I saw something white lower down, but I lost it behind the outcrop over there.” He pointed away through the crumbled rock wall in a downslope direction. “I’ll fold up my sailcloth, and then see if we can get a better look.”
Though Fi said nothing, Link thought he felt the faintest affirmation as he began to straighten the sailcloth and fold it in, packing the huge expanse of grit-streaked cloth into a manageable bundle and stowing it safely away once more. With that done, he walked cautiously up to the tumbled rocks to peer around them, alert for danger despite her confirmation that there was no immediate threat. The level ash that covered the flagstones gave way to a more bumpy, uneven surface beyond, ending in the cliff face of a high and curving spur of rock, which Link was fairly sure was one end of the arc that shielded the temple entrance from the lava rolling slowly down the mountainside beyond. Several of the deadly bomb flowers grew in the ashen soil of the sheltered defile, a striking blue in its dark grey and brown landscape. Link could see misshapen footprints in the area, which appeared to have given the explosive plants a wide berth, but nothing more.
Stepping around the rocks into the defile, Link found his view, as he had expected, once again cut short by the steep fall of the volcano’s side. The spur to his right continued only slightly further before ending even more abruptly, in a vertical cliff that fell beyond his field of vision. Slowly, taking care not to step too near the bomb flowers, he walked along to the outer edge and looked down.
Beyond the spur of rock, far below, a river of lava flowed along its treacherous path down the mountainside. Frowning, Link squinted into the dirty heat haze above it: was it the same one he had ridden away from the spring after his battle with Ghirahim’s fiend and his encounter with Zelda and her Sheikah companion? It was hard to be sure, but it looked like it: the curvature and the steepness of it were right, and there was a rocky outcrop that seemed faintly familiar. The lava looked, thankfully, slightly less bright and deep than it had then, and Link hoped that the two eruptions – the one he’d seen the start of and the one that Beedle had felt – had left the volcano calmer, at least for a little while.
Ahead, down a steep slope, another piece of the same ridge of rock that formed the spur to his right jutted out, forming a kind of narrow ledge with a small spire at the far end. No expanse of white was immediately visible, but if what he thought he’d seen was right…
Master Link, I detect materials from the Lanayru Desert in approximately the direction you are looking. There is a 100% probability that Beedle’s crates are nearby. However, I also detect two bokoblins in the same location. There is a 95% probability that they are investigating the crates.
Link grimaced. “We can’t leave them to it. They’ll break them open and probably break everything. Do you think I can get down this slope safely?”
Your descent will be relatively uncontrolled, but loose rock comprises less than 5% of the sloped surface. It is not possible for you to start a landslide. I advise attempting to remain in the middle of the slope as you descend to minimise the risk of falling to either side.
Link nodded. “Thanks, Fi.” Taking a deep breath, he looked down over the lip of the defile – then stepped off the edge. His foot hit steeply angled rock, and he leant back even as he took the next step, half stepping and more than half sliding down the steep slope, a few pebbles and shards of rock bouncing away below him, but nothing like enough to cause any wider harm. Forced to accelerate just to keep his balance, Link found his pace was soon out of control, but he was still upright and in rough control of his course, the flatter region ahead coming closer – closer – and suddenly he was running along it, able to slow down at last and stop safely before he reached the spire at the end. Knowing there were bokoblins nearby, he bit back an exhilarated whoop, instead walking cautiously out to the spire to hold onto it and peer out and down.
Fi’s sense of direction and his own memory of his descent combined well enough that he found he was looking almost directly at the white expanse he had seen from above. On the next rough ledge of the rock ridge, not far below, the somewhat ragged expanse of at least two small sailcloths was spread, one with a rock spike punched through it. The bokoblins Fi had detected were clearly visible, working together to pull on the taut rope of one of the sailcloths, grunting with the effort as they heaved, hand over hand, to raise something hanging off the edge of the ledge on the side of the lava flow.
That was close, Link thought. It had to be one of the crates they were pulling up: the rock spur had clearly snagged the sailcloths though at least one of the crates had missed it. Eyeing the bokoblins, he decided to wait for them to finish pulling the crate up: however long the ropes were, if they were startled into dropping it, it would fall down the cliffside and risk breaking crate, rope, or both – and either way, dropping all of its contents into the lava below.
Before long, the grunting bokoblins had finished hauling their prize – a crate, seemingly still sealed and with “Beedle’s Airshop” stencilled in black across the side – up the cliff and over the edge to relatively flat ground. As Link had feared, they immediately started inspecting it, chittering to each other, and one, finding its stubby fingers had no luck in prying a plank away, began trying to wedge its sword into the crate!
“Hey!” Link shouted, scrambling down the short climb to the uneven ledge. The bokoblins looked around, snorting in surprise, and charged even as he leapt the last short distance to the ground, squealing in delighted bloodlust. Link met them with his teeth gritted and his sword in hand, no time to get his shield from his back, blocking the first heavy, clumsy swing on the Goddess Sword’s shining blade and sidestepping to his left to put the first bokoblin in the way of its neighbour. A moment later he had freed the sword from his opponent’s crude, notched weapon and swung it sharply back around, the bokoblin shrieking and trying to move its blade to block too late, dying in a spray of foully noxious blood as Link’s blow took it across the neck.
The other bokoblin came on relentlessly, stepping on its fellow’s twitching body in its hunger for Link’s death, battering at him with its heavy blade. He turned one blow aside, and another, backing up two careful steps on the uneven footing and almost missing one when the rock beneath his foot wobbled alarmingly. The bokoblin squealed at his near-stumble, charging with a wild swing – and Link threw himself aside, back onto safer ground, leaving the bokoblin to run right onto the tilting rock, its crude sword missing him by mere inches as it shrieked, stumbled, missed its footing as the rock tilted and slid, and fell scrabbling from the uneven ledge with a final hate-filled screech only ended by its unseen impact somewhere far below.
Though he felt slightly sickened, Link got to his feet, checking his own blade for dirt or damage. As always, it was unmarred, neither flesh nor blood clinging to it, its edge undulled, shining in the ash-choked light with its own cool purity. He swallowed, and sheathed it, turning back towards the pale expanses of sailcloth and the precious crate that the bokoblins had retrieved. A suspiciously cubic lump beneath the sailcloth gave Link hope that a second crate, too, had survived.
I detect the presence of Lanayru Desert materials in the crate the bokoblins retrieved. One of the items within bears a 100% correspondence to a modulated multi-way transformer of the type we require.
A brief smile flickered across Link’s face. “Thank the goddess.” He eyed the crate dubiously before setting about pulling the dirty, somewhat ripped sailcloths free of the cubic lump that he suspected was the other, proving that he was right and that it, too, was stamped with “Beedle’s Airshop” and seemingly equally intact. Both were fairly small by the standards of crates – Beedle didn’t, in fact couldn’t, sell large goods – but they were still far more than he could carry while climbing down a mountain.
“Fi… do you think Scrapper would be willing to help us bring these back?” I guess I will need his help after all.
Fi sprang from the sword to answer, floating incongruously by the crate, the only blue thing against dark rock, red lava, and the ashen sky. “He stated that he would transport anything you required. An additional sonic transmission informed me of his lifting parameters. Using this information, I calculate that both crates are well within his transportation capacity. Shall I call him now?”
“Yeah, I guess you’d better.” Softer, he added “I just hope he doesn’t mind too much.”
“Transmitting radio signal…” Fi paused for only an instant. “Transmission received and acknowledged. Scrapper is on his way at his maximum sustainable airspeed.”
“Radio?”
“The communication method Scrapper crudely referred to as ‘thought waves’. It is a form of light invisible to the human eye, and allows near-instantaneous communication.”
“Is that how you were talking to the robots before, when you told them how to speak my language?”
“In essence, yes, although some of the forms of light in use at short range are assigned different names.”
Link blinked behind his dirty flight goggles, contemplating that. “How many forms of light are there, Fi?”
“The vast majority of light is invisible to human eyes. You perceive only a small amount of it: the most common form, and thus that which is most useful.”
“...Wow.” He hesitated, looking at the scene before him. “I’d better get these sailcloths detached from the crates and pack them up before Scrapper gets here. But will you tell me about them while I work?”
“Certainly, Master.”
* * *
A short while later, Link had folded both sailcloths into a bundle, tied with their own cords. At Fi’s suggestion, he’d then bound them to the crates and used them to tie both crates together, creating a single unwieldy stack that Fi assured him Scrapper would be able to fly with. Unwilling to leave the crates until Scrapper arrived, he’d sat down against them on the opposite side to the bokoblin corpse, listening to Fi’s calm, musical voice as she talked about kinds of light against the backdrop of the low rumbling of the volcano.
Abruptly Fi paused, looking up.
“I detect the individual known as Scrapper approaching, Master.”
Link got to his feet, squinting into the dirty sky. At first he could see nothing, but as he stared, a tiny dot resolved itself, growing rapidly larger until the robot was in plain sight, weaving a slightly wobbling flight path down through the ash and smoke until he was hovering beside the crates, facing Fi.
“Mistress Fi! I hope you weren’t waiting long.” He turned, taking in the surroundings. “So, you want me to carry this… pile of things?”
Fi inclined her head, transmitting an affirmative.
“It needs to go back up to Beedle’s Airshop,” Link explained. “If you’re sure you’re happy to carry it?”
“For Mistress Fi,” Scrapper declared, “I will carry anything, anywhere. Now get out of the way, Master Shortpants! I need space to lift!”
Link stepped back, careful of his footing. The bokoblin’s final screech as it fell was still fresh in his mind, and he stayed a cautious distance from the uneven, sloping edge. As soon as he’d taken two paces, Scrapper dropped down to the crates and closed his mechanical hands about the bottom one, the bands of shimmering light that seemed to connect the hands to his body lengthening to allow him to do so, then contracting slightly once his grip was secure, pinning the crates firmly against his torso. The incongruous propeller on his head spun faster and faster, and the entire assemblage lifted slowly off the ground.
“By the time you arrive back at Skyloft, this package will be delivered! Don’t delay Mistress Fi too much – I’ll be waiting for you!”
“Thanks, Scrapper,” Link said, sincere despite the robot’s abrasive attitude. Whatever the reason for it, he was helping all the same.
“Yes, well. Don’t be late!” With that, Scrapper began to rise higher, accelerating into the sky and away to the south, away from the volcano and its endless plume of ash. Link watched him go, diminishing to a speck – until something struck him.
“Fi, he’s gone the wrong way! How will he get through the cloud barrier?” Link couldn’t reach him in time, even if his loftwing had been down below it and able to fly freely through the ash-choked air! Could Fi talk to him, call him back?
“Your deduction of and concern for the consequences of his actions are commendable, Master Link.” Though it was difficult to tell, Link thought he felt the faintest hint of approval in her voice, shifting – perhaps – towards reassurance as she continued. “However, in this instance, concern is not necessary. The cloud barrier prevents beings with any quantity of spirit from passing through it in an upwards direction, in order to prevent the incursion of demonic or demonically-influenced entities. As a robot, Scrapper does not possess spirit. His kind are uniquely able to pass the barrier in both directions, provided that they approach with reduced velocity.”
“Huh. Well, that’s good. Just so long as he’ll be all right.”
“The probability of his coming to harm on the journey back to Skyloft is less than five percent.” Fi paused for a moment as if to mark her change of subject. “I recommend that we begin our own journey back to Skyloft. At this range, the air above Eldin Volcano is still hazardous for a loftwing. I will direct you towards the statue that we employed previously.”
Link nodded. “Thanks, Fi.” He could feel the subtle sensation of her guidance even before she had returned to the sword, unerringly prompting him in the right direction, down the slope and to safety.
He wondered if he could ride the thermals over the lava flow again…
Notes:
I flip to my fanfic tabs to do my pre-prep (writing your patch notes and suchlike), and what do I find but AO3 is down! I was trying to be less than 24 hours late, but oh well. Posting while it's back before it falls over again!
Sorry for the day’s delay: I’m not quite back into the swing of it and this chapter took longer to write than I allotted for it. Entirely my own fault. Not helped by my being quite distracted by replaying Shadow of Mordor and Shadow of War. It will also be not helped next week by my having bought Link’s Awakening (Switch version) to reward myself for having survived the Death Times. (Hat tip to Teorwyn's excellent Dream Girl, which has ensured I will almost certainly enjoy it no matter what the game itself is like!) I resolved not to let myself play it until I got this chapter out, but the next chapter has no such protection…
Patch Notes
- Scrapper’s ability to bypass the cloud barrier explained.
- Survival of object dropped from great height explained.
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