Nine
Nabooru continually had to balance out her amazement – and amusement – at the changes that had taken place in Hyrule with the proper amount of worry for her friends.
//At least none of us were here,// she thought, surveying the capitol itself, easily the most twisted and fractured place she’d been in yet. Half the north quarter appeared to have turned into some sort of bee hive, though many of the inhabitants still appeared to be normal people. Other streets had been bent vertically, buildings and alleys still spaced normally, defying gravity even as their inhabitants struggled to climb in and out.
From her perch on the outer wall, the Sage of Spirit watched entire clusters of the buildings move, standing up on wobbly legs to trade places with others, somehow managing to shift and settle without hurting anyone beneath. A large batch of popcorn floated down the street, intermittently bursting into song, as the stones on the pavement exploded now and again into random clusters of rupees. A few children did their best to catch them up quickly, flickering in and out of sight as they ran. A group of pigs appeared to be playing cards on the corner, taking drinks from the tray of a floating octopus.
Nabooru did not bother with much dismay, or despair. Hyrule was a city that, like the country around it, weathered all its challenges with a steady resolve. It had always been beautiful, even after years under Ganon’s rule, all royal statues smashed and any mural or carving with a hint of Hylian heritage broken and erased. Still, the abstracts of its beauty survived, the architecture, the suggestion of a strong and proud metropolis that would one day rise again.
A guard stepped around the corner on his usual patrol, and Nabooru let herself slip into dust, sliding over the wall and pattering to the ground. It was easier to keep her shape than she’d worried it might be, enough that she had been able to travel on an obliging breeze and arrive here faster than she thought possible. A good skill for reorganizing the resistance, whatever shape it might be in now.
The thief slipped back into a solid state, crouching down low against a pile of old boxes and junk at the edge of a shop, watching more of the crowd pass by. Ganon had tried to ban all cloaks and scarves inside the walls, too easy for a Sheikah or even a cunning enough Gerudo to blend in under cover, get too close. Now, though, over half the population had cloaks to hide themselves, some fearing the reactions of their neighbors even more than Ganon’s wrath. What she could see at the edges of the disguises made the need for them seem obvious. Feathers, scales and fur, all of that along with strange mechanical clickings and even one glowing ball of light, trailing a robe behind it. Nabooru snatched the first cloak within stealing reach and kept it tight around her as she moved down the street.
It might be possible to fool Ganon now. Walk right up to him and pledge her allegiance. Claim she was someone else, now transformed, or whatever else it took to destroy him while his back was turned. He might not be fooled, but what could a knife or sword or all the arrows of the Moblin army do against dust?
Nabooru smiled. It wasn’t always the most exciting thing, to have the upper hand, but sometimes it was exactly what she wanted. Perhaps Ganon had changed his form, and though she could not imagine him more powerful than he already was, it was a happy thought indeed to picture him as any number of easily crushable bugs, or a worm.
Difficult to even guess what had become of the resistance, though there were a few inns and taverns where she might toss lines of inquiry. All threads in a torn web that could soon be returned to whole, as long as her contacts had transformed into creatures that could speak. Unfortunately, just finding even one of the places she had known was more difficult than it sounded. By the second road she’d found blocked off – this one with a strange, spider-like creature who only grumbled when she poked it and refused to wake up – Nabooru was considering a return to the outer wall and a better look around, guards or no guards.
Horns blared, and she jumped, recognizing the melody immediately – the proud announcement of Ganon’s return. Nabooru quickly recovered, sliding into a side passage, listening to the main gates of the city open, creeping closer as the sounds of rumbling wheels and marching feet shook the ground beneath her feet.
Her heart sank a little, though she’d tried not to put too much hope in the idea that Ganon might be gone, or at least transformed into something a little less formidable. He always had to make an entrance, especially when he thought he’d been shown up by his enemies.
Many times after one of them had claimed a victory, Nabooru would watch Hyrule from afar, counting the troops and weapons, the number of spikes on shiny new war machines. Ganon trying to prove he was still in control. It always made them laugh, when she reported it to Link and Zelda later, occasionally she could even get a slight eyebrow raise from Impa. The grandiose parades were the only way to feel any sense of victory, when Ganon continued to have most of the power.
By the number of banners on those poles, whatever happened to change the world had been quite a victory for their side. It would have been better with Ganon not returning at all, but even a partial victory was worth a smile.
Judging the rumble against the stones, Nabooru crept closer until she was two blocks away, ducking behind a pile of crates as the first of the soldiers came into view. The townspeople were all cowering, the city silent save for the horns and troops Ganon brought with him. A hooded figure was watching from the other side of the alley, one block up, another villager too curious or too unfortunate to find shelter in a building.
The soldiers Ganon had brought with him all looked right, Moblins to the last, ugly and angry and marching along to the music as if nothing had changed. Nabooru hoped for the best, that Ganon would be overconfident, and the throne might try to eat him.
It wasn’t long before the false King of Hyrule himself appeared, as high and mighty as ever on one of his fierce dark horses. The Goddesses only knew what he bred them with, but the damn things had fangs, and even Ganon’s hands were tight on the reins as he kept the creature steady.
//Well, that’s interesting.//
At the surface, he seemed unchanged, completely unaffected by the strangeness that had fallen over the rest of the land. The Triforce of Power belonged to Ganon, and he always made every effort he could to make this fact clear. Especially during a parade, he would keep his hands uncovered, making sure the golden symbol was easy for everyone to see.
Now, though, he was wearing a pair of thick, dark gloves on both hands. Enough of a show otherwise, with the guards and music to make it appear as if everything was normal, perhaps that he had even created this madness for some dark purpose – but the gloves suggested otherwise. Nabooru kept her focus there, sorely wishing she had Zelda’s power, or even Link’s, to know what he might be hiding beneath.
Ganon’s head snapped toward the alleyway, and though Nabooru was sure he couldn’t see her, she froze anyway. So did the cloaked man at the corner, whirling back to press his body against the wall, hood sliding down to reveal eyes tipped up and closed, obviously terrified and praying not to be seen.
A simple enough sight, except that it was Ganon standing there. Ganon on horseback at the end of the street, and Ganon hiding from him in fear. Nabooru stared from one to the other blankly, wondering just what she was looking at.
Time stopped for a few beats, until Ganon’s horse snorted and shied beneath him, and he continued on his way. Nabooru kept her position, watching the other Ganon peer around the corner, letting out a deep sigh of relief. A difference in him, even in the way he stood, and how he moved, quickly flipping his hood back up. This shy Ganon glanced around nervously, and then crept down the alley toward the main road, taking the fastest path out of town.
Nabooru looked toward the castle – toward her best chance of destroying Ganon, or at least making his day a little more miserable. It was important to find out what was left of the resistance, to see if Zelda or Link had checked in. To see if anyone had a plan on what they should do next.
//You really think that’s more important now?//
A damn shame she always respected her hunches, Nabooru thought, turning away from Hyrule and setting out after the Ganon who hid his face and cowered from his double, and was quickly making his way out of town.
------------------
“Link?”
He hadn’t been sure he would be able to go to sleep, with that dark version of himself lurking somewhere in the forests and dawn breaking, not to mention the rush of excitement flooding him every time he looked over at Zelda. A little strange, to see a man beneath the Sheikah mask, but it was rather a compliment to his own change. At least they could both be equally awkward and embarrassed.
It had taken a while just to exchange information – to learn that Malon had found him, had found the map he carried and taken Epona to the temple where the Chaos Glass was. Epona had no information, she’d been running back to Link when the strangeness enveloped the land. No sign of the Zoras, or Ruto, though for all they knew they had all become trapped by the strange rapids that surrounded the cave. Or changed, turned to stones or flowers or butterflies, there was no way to know.
It was time to return to Hyrule Castle, to try to find Nabooru, or any trace of Malon or the Zoras. To see what had become of Ganon in all of this, though Dark Link’s appearance did not bring good tidings. Regroup, and form a new plan of attack. The field may have altered, but the true battle never changed.
“Link?”
He blinked off the remaining weariness, as his name was repeated, surprised at how warm he was after several days of sleeping with his back to Epona and his arms tucked against his chest, shivering the night away. It was night now, the sun just starting to go down, and that confused him for a long moment. He looked up when Zelda kissed his forehead, and realized he was tucked carefully in her arms, the same as he had done for her many times before.
Zelda blushed a little, drawing away as he sat up. “I thought it made more sense to sleep like this, with the way I am now.” He couldn’t help the grin, watching her examine her hands. The movements all hers, oddly fixed, out of place in this new body.
“I’ll be glad when we can set things to right.” Zelda lifted a hand toward her face, and frowned. “I smell funny.”
“You think that’s bad? A woman all but dragged me in her shop, told me I’d never catch a husband dressing like a brigand. Eight arms too, like a spider, tossing all these... things at me. Petticoats, and more petticoats, and corsets, and... I can’t imagine how on earth you keep track of them all.”
Zelda laughed. “You should get used a bit more formal attire, even when we regain our normal shapes. You are going to be king someday.”
It was a sobering thought, and Link stretched a little but did not stand, keeping his back against the tree they’d slept under. It was rare that they mentioned the future, the possibility that there would be a dawn to Ganon’s dark night. He and Zelda, ruling together. Love, happiness... children. A child of his own, to teach the bow and the sword to just for the joy of knowing.
He didn’t know if it could ever come to pass. No one did. Zelda knew there had been other Heroes, other champions who rose up to wield the Master Sword, but there was never and end to their tales. Never a suggestion that they lived happily ever after. Link had always had the terrible suspicion that defeating Ganon might cost him his life.
The dark thought turned into a strange chill on the back of his neck, not just the breeze of dusk as the sun went down. He heard Epona whicker nervously, tail swishing back and forth, and as he stood up Impa materialized from the woods. Nothing surprising enough to make him jump, she’d always moved like a phantom.
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
Impa didn’t need to answer, it was hardly a question at all. Dark Link was watching him, Link could feel that biting smile, suppressed the shiver because the creature would see it. There was no word for the emotions that evil mirror brought up in him, a mixture of fear and sickness and utter loathing, each emotion inspiring more of the others. He had tried, and failed, to explain it to Zelda, what it was like to stare into a hole, an empty void in the universe that looked just like him.
“We should move.” He’d known Impa too long, when her tight, flat tone never changed and he still knew the danger was close. He moved for Epona, but the Sheikah woman shook her head.
“It would be better if we scatter.”
His dark double hadn’t come alone, then. Link looked back to where Zelda stood, hating every inch of the air around her, every place an enemy could attack that he could not defend. It didn’t matter that her body was twice as muscular now, square jaw set and determined. Didn’t matter that she was as much Sheikah as princess in any form.
“Hero.”
He turned, surprised, as one of the Sheikah approached him, holding out a pale paw. He had not been certain they could talk in their new shapes, the raspy, low voice so soft he was surprised he’d caught the word. He was handed one of their knife straps, something he’d worn from time to time but never given directly from their hands. Three knives in it, easy to reach for and throw – for protecting Zelda. They’d noticed his concern.
“Thank you.”
No more words, and they were off. If Link had been told, fresh from Kokiri Forest, that he would be able to move through the trees as quickly as Epona could gallop along the ground, he never would have believed it. The Sheikah demanded nothing less, and after several months of bruises and scrapes and knowing he was about to break apart completely, they no longer had to wait for him to catch up at the end of every journey.
He was sure the Sheikah could see in the dark, enjoying the full benefits of their feline transformation, but they were keeping a slightly slower pace. Allowing Epona to choose her steps a bit more carefully in the shadows, cautious and careful of threats waiting in the darkness.
Even so, the only warning Link had was a slight snarl from the Sheikah in the lead – by the time he heard Zelda’s warning shout, he was already twisting in the air, catching the glint of steel a moment before the darts slammed into the tree where his eye had been only a second before.
Traps. Epona was whinnying wildly, backpedaling to a halt as a wall of sharpened stakes snapped up from the ground. The snarl that rose above her panicked cries was not from the Sheikah, this new sound wet and hissing. Link quickly drew the Master Sword as a shadow detached itself from the crook of a tree and lunged at him.
He dodged, watching razor claws gouge into the tree bark behind him, slashing out with his sword only to have the darkness swirl around the blade, condensing around the bottom of the hilt and trying to twist it out of his hand. Link snarled, pulling his hand away and bringing the blade down quickly, and this time the blow struck true. The shadowy creature twisted wildly, writhing from the strike that had nearly cut it in half, and collapsed against the tree, dissolving to nothing. The moon came out fully behind a cloud as Link looked down, illuminating the fight below in stark relief.
Zelda and the Sheikah engaged in furious combat with more of the shadows, even Epona lashing out with her hooves at two of the creatures gathering around her.
“Little girls should be careful, so late at night.”
He turned sharply at the hissing challenge, but wasn’t fast enough to block the strike, Dark Link catching him in the stomach with a blow that knocked the wind from his lungs. The Master Sword fell from his hand, vanishing into the underbrush.
Link had forgotten how fast his double was, and before he could regain the breath he’d lost, Dark Link reached down for one of the knives the Sheikah had given him, drawing it back with a fierce, hungry grin on its lips. A time for drawing things out, and a time for a strike so fast Link wouldn’t be able to block it.
The dagger plunged down toward his heart, and was knocked far off its mark by a raging wind, buffeting at the creature with razor claws. Dark Link shouted sharply, ripping the blade from where it had dug into the tree, slashing at what Link finally realized was a large bird flapping overhead. It had dove down beneath the canopy and now could not get the space and lift to rise back up, shrieking and scratching with its claws until one of Dark Link’s blows finally struck home. With a wild cry of anger and pain, the bird plummeted out of sight. Link’s roar of rage overpowered the crackling of branches, as he tackled his pale mirror image, knocking them both backward out of the tree.
Dark Link was laughing – because they both knew the Master Sword was somewhere on the other side of where they were fighting, and there was no other weapon likely to hurt him. Of course, it didn’t mean he couldn’t try, and before Link could even really think about it he had his hands around his dark double’s neck, fingers digging in with every bit of strength he had.
It was not like a duel, or even a bare-fisted brawl. It felt brutal, slamming the monster into the ground, and Link felt less and less like he was destroying the darkness as much as sinking into it. That the creature might be trying to fight him off, clawing at his hands on the surface, but on the inside he was still laughing. Knowing that the longer Link fought this familiar darkness, the less he could measure the difference between it and himself.
It was a sacrifice Link was willing to make. Unfortunately, this night was not his chance to do it. One of the Sheikah was lifted by the shadow it was fighting, tossed across the clearing, slamming into him and ripping his hands from Dark Link’s throat. Both of them were on their feet in moments, but by then the fight was over The shadows had retreated, unwilling to stay when the victory would not be easy, and his doppelganger was nowhere in sight.
Link roared, hardly aware the sound was coming from him, and lunged across the clearing. He wouldn’t have stopped if Zelda hadn’t grabbed him, hooking her larger arms around his, and even then he struggled against her for a few moments, listening to her try to talk sense.
“Let him go. You can’t face him alone.”
He couldn’t face that darkness at all. Just the thought of that creature out there, somewhere in the world – even if Dark Link was retreating, it made his skin crawl. He was shaking, trembling, even as he stopped fighting and Zelda dropped her arms to his waist. It wasn’t until she pressed a slightly stubbly chin against the back of his neck that he was jolted fully back into reality.
“Sorry... I’m sorry, wasn’t thinking...” Stupid to think he could hide the way he’d been rattled from Zelda, or that she would do anything but keep him close, her presence steadying, as it always was.
“It’s all right. I know. I know.”
He didn’t move, and she didn’t loosen her grip, and slowly the rest of the world came back into focus – most importantly, the sound of screeching and rustling from behind them. Link turned, keeping one hand in Zelda’s as they moved to where Impa and the Sheikah had gathered around the bird Dark Link had wounded.
“Step back.” The Sheikah looked up at him in something like surprise, and Link lifted an eyebrow. “Bird?” He gestured at them “Giant cats? Please... just give it a little room.”
They did move back after that, leaving him with a pile of broken branches, and the creature that had inexplicably saved his life. The bird was huddled against the ground, flapping one wing feebly while the other slumped down into the dirt. Tangled up with the sticks and leaves, it could do little more than cry out feebly and try to free itself.
“It’s the same one that was following us, all this time.” Zelda murmured. “I think its wing is broken.”
“It saved me.” Link stepped forward cautiously, but as soon as one bright eye snapped up to him, the bird went utterly still. It was not exactly comforting, he had no idea what to expect from the wild animal.
“It’s all right.” He pitched his voice into soothing tones, not sure if birds much cared for that. “You’re safe. No one here will hurt you.”
Link carefully lifted the bird free from the splintered wood, murmuring apologies as it let out soft, pained sounds. It flapped weakly, but stilled when he put his hands gently against the unbroken wing. It was not how he’d expected the bird to act. If he had attempted this with any other injured animal save Epona, it certainly would have tried to shred him by now. Link knew then, even before he studied the familiar markings on the feathers, the tan-brown-black stripes, with pale dots just above the tips. He knew.
The glassy eye continued to study him, and Link tried to find his voice, pulling strands of long hair out of his eyes.
“I’m still Link, just like you’re still you. It’s really me.”
He could feel the shocked pause, and then the bird slumped against his hands, eyes fluttering shut. Link turned to Zelda, aware this shouldn’t have been a surprise but still feeling as if he’d just tripped, and hadn’t yet hit the ground.
“... it’s Malon.”