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Legend of Zelda: Book of Mobius	By : Meggiez Category: Zelda > General Views: 4692 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Legend of Zelda game series, nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
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Monk slammed into the infirmary until an angry nurse imposed herself between him and the curtained off partition.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked frostily. Though she was slight in size, Monk grimaced as if she were some immovable object. Before he could open his mouth, the woman spoke over him. “This is a place of healing sir! There will be soft knocks, not bursting in like an Unknown on the hunt! You will conduct yourself accordingly and apologize to my patients!”
Monk blinked murky blue eyes, lips turning into a bitter twist. He had no intention of apologizing to anyone. Monk’s mind swelled behind the tight mental restraints, wanting to slap the bossy woman to the side for getting in his way.
He had things to do.
“Ah, Monk. I was wondering when you’d visit.” Viscen’s voice drifted from the back. There was a note of pleading in the polite tone. “Please let him through, lovey? I’m sorry for the ruckus. He’s so impatient.”
The nurse sniffed, stepping from the tall Monk’s path and walking back to another patient behind a curtain.
The bald man went to the partition that the voice had originated from, slipping through the barrier. The guardsman was laid up, chest bare except for sporadic placement of bandages. There was a bandage around the man’s head; a cut along his cheek that was sure to accent the black-eyed man’s features instead of mar them. A book was in the auburn haired man’s lap, hand holding the pages open.
Houlihan stood by the window, arms crossed, and clockwork eye whirling and clicking excitedly. Monk wondered where Errol was off-handedly before quirking a brow at the injured guardsman.
“So. You make it back alive.” Monk stated, sitting in an empty chair.
“You always have the knack for stating the obvious. It’s been a week and this is how you greet me. Glad to see you do it to everyone and not just our little Hero.” Viscen stated, auburn brow rose in mockery to the bald man’s sudden scowl. The black eyes were weary and the guardsman looked at the book dispassionately. “What a mess. I should have checked on mines and Sheika Penal Colony sooner. They were a little…bitter.”
“As if convicts are our greatest concern.” Monk snorted derisively.
“They call themselves Gerudo. They’re a tribe of women now.”
“No men?” Houlihan asked, green eye bright with curiosity.
“None.” Viscen confirmed, giving the odd man a speculative look.
“Hmm…there were surely men there before. Do you suppose the women killed them all and took their spleens?”
Monk and Viscen shared a look.
“I…don’t really know. Why the spleen?” The injured man looked unsure if he truly wanted to know.
“There’s a tribe of women in the desert with no men?” Houlihan either didn’t hear or ignored Viscen’s question.
“Yes?”
“Well. That’s very rude.” The erratic man huffed.
“…yes?”
“Surely there’s enough desert to share with everyone.”
“Indeed.” Monk droned, wondering if the man had finally lost his last screw.
“The prison has merged with the mines. It’s become a fortress. No one evidently goes in. It’s overrun with Unknowns. The women have set up tents around the outside walls, though they’ve managed to carve out rooms in the sandstone.” Viscen informed them.
“That’s a lot of information. Did you get all of these arrows in you in their enthusiastic send off?” Monk asked.
“Perhaps he bartered with them. They are short of men and cannot function as a proper society without the ability to reproduce.” Houlihan interrupted. He gave Viscen a dark look; both real and augmented eye focusing intently upon the guardsman. “How many spleens did you promise them?”
An uncomfortable silence followed the heated question. Viscen choose to ignore the man, turning his gaze to Monk.
“Ah. Their leader spoke with me after I was…neutralized. It helped that I just took cover and didn’t attack them until they pressed my defenses. Still managed to overrun my cover.” The guardsman winced, his hand free hand clenching in the book. “I’ll live. What brings you here?”
“I can’t sense our little Hero anymore.” Monk informed them. “He was in the treatment plant and something happened. He just evicted my mental bug.”
Viscen grunted. Houlihan’s eye shuttered.
“Yes, Errol knows. Tris has isolated herself.”
“Everything’s starting to rush towards…something.” Viscen murmured, worry creasing his brow.
“As tend to do.” Houlihan stated philosophically, though he still eyed the guardsman with distrust. The two men ignored him judiciously.
“An ending, good or ill.” Monk confirmed, though it was little comfort.
They sat in silence before sharp cracks and snaps broke through the normal babble of the city. The three jerked their gazes to the window, but they couldn’t see through the buildings standing in their way. Monk sent out a mental search, trying to get a hint of what was happening.
“What is that?” Viscen demanded, hair standing on end from the chorus of crepitates. Houlihan was darting through the sheet, his hasty footsteps retreating quickly.
“Sounds like…ice. No way to leave the mortal plane/the Hero fights the heart of suffering and fear/souls now all to droplets turn and rejoin the world of Shadows.” Monk whispered, eyes dilating as pain, betrayal and fear cut across his mind like razors. The emotions snapped suddenly out of existence and a sense of something huge and malicious made the bald man snap his mental shields back in place. He shuddered from the contact, barely keeping the urge to gibber uselessly in check. “Goddesses help us.”

Link felt as if he’d fallen into a hole and he could take no more.
He was weightless. Buoyed by the gentle currents of air that caressed his flesh and cooled the burning fever that seemed to ravage his body. Sounds were distant, muffled here. The distant resonance of crowds…or was it battle…there was screaming…it barely touched the teen on a physical and emotional level.
Curses, hateful whispers and outright rage filled screams feel on his uncomprehending ears. There were people around him; he could sense their presence around him, their emotions trying to batter him.
There was a crackling sound that drifted past the din, the sound of breaking. Sharp and clear, cutting into the teen with each snap. The fracturing tones cut into the teen’s flesh, demanding that he open up his eyes.
The cerulean eyes drifted open, the sight of the Lower Levels beneath him. Light was hazy, breaking through the darkness almost grudgingly. Night must have been setting in, seeing as it was slowly beginning to dim. Link blinked, eyes flicking over the streets, looking for the people who usually occupied them. His people. His neighbors. His friends.
His family by choice, rather than blood, lived in that darkening city.
Was this real? Had the last…how long had it been? Had he been trapped in a nightmare? His mind was having trouble focusing.
Figures were flitting through the air, like wispy birds, but their movements were sensual gliding as opposed to the usual darting drift.
The blue eyes narrowed, the figures beginning to sharpen as they twisted close. Washed out colors, unresolved forms dancing about him in the curiously syrupy air. The strange apparitions seemed to find shapes as they danced around him. A mourning keen began to reverberate through the teen’s very bones.
People he’d known.
People he’d lived with.
People he’d helped.
People he’d killed.
Link’s mind asserted itself and the teen felt even more detached than before. These details didn’t matter. He knew he was beneath the surface of Crow Bait Lake. He vaguely remembered the phantoms that had been dancing upon the lake. He knew that they posed him no threat right now. They couldn’t touch him. Link didn’t know where this conviction had come from, but he knew it to be true.
The teen lazily twisted through the water onto his back, looking up at the distant surface. The surface was curiously still. Sunlight still strained through it, but it was fighting a losing battle against whatever was slowly thickening over the top.
The crackling snaps finally made sense.
The surface was icing over.
The teen inhaled the curiously sterile water, twisting to look for another avenue of escape. He had things to do. He’d managed to miss the crest from the water treatment plant. He needed to go back and retrieve the damn thing.
The specters of the citizens were dancing around him, lanterns with multi-colored flames in their grasp, howling their rage and demands. No actual words, just sensations that battered the teen. Like having waves of icy fire surge upon his skin, burning and numbing at the same time. Link gave them a cursorily glance, ignoring the sensations with ease. They weren’t a threat, as far as he could tell. He’d felt worse.
They seemed to stay at least three feet from him, in any case. He wasn’t sure why none of them had tried to get closer. Though, sometimes it looked as if they were gliding against an invisible bubble, so the ghosts probably couldn’t get any closer.
‘Vassal.’ A voice whispered like a cold wind across the teen’s mind.
The blonde froze, identifying the voice as Mistress Cooper. He didn’t turn, since the mental voice didn’t really give the teen a hint of direction. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
‘What.’ The blonde broadcasted. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t speak with the zora engineer before. It all seemed so simple now.
‘You will free us.’ Mistress Cooper’s spirit commanded.
‘Why should I bother? I’m not holding you here.’ Link replied. He glanced about until he saw the washed out, plump figure and quirked a pale brow at her.
‘Someone holds us.’ The ghost informed him, face impassive. The gray hair that had always been so contained and smooth before was a gnarled cloud twisting about her face. There was an unlit lantern in her hand. ‘He refuses death and in turn, denies us our final rest.’
‘That’s nice. Why should I care?.’ The teen waved a hand dismissively.
‘So brash. Does death hold no meaning for you, Vassal?’ Those dead eyes seemed to bore into the teen’s soul.
‘Death is something I won’t have to worry about for a long while. It is my enemies that should prepare for it.’ The blonde pointed out, floating closer to the spirit.
‘We will trap you in the ice if you do not free us. We have had a full day to thicken the ice.’ The threat was a mere statement, a fact recited idly.
‘I will get out. Come now, spirit. Make your plight worth my time.’ The blonde gave a toothy grin, blue eyes hard as the stones fastened to his flesh.
‘Ah. Bargaining. Pointless.’
‘Well. Good luck. Seems like you’ll be stuck with me until someone else figures out how to get through the ice to free you.’ The blonde shrugged, not really caring either way. There was no way the spirits could trap him.
Mistress Cooper’s Poe floated in silence, but the sensations of the communication between the other ghosts were battering against the teen’s mind. There was no concrete thought, just a general sensation of outrage and demands. Link waited, secure in his knowledge.
Something whispered against his mind, nosey and rude. It took Link a moment to identify the contact as Monk. The teen blinked lazily and burned the mental touch. It recoiled hastily.
So. He’s been monitoring me. Goes to show how weak I was before to have not noticed. Link thought, rage bubbling in the back of his throat. I’ll kill the Sage for his impudence. I will bring those fools to heel after I kill of Ganon. Our little agreement will be null and void then.
‘There is a magical crest. You will not get it if you don’t fight the one who holds us.’ Mistress Cooper sent.
Excitement flared inside the teen. He was worried he would have to comb the sunken city of the damn thing.
‘Lead on.’ Link ordered; casting one more look to the slowly thickening ice overhead. There was a small part of him that was glad that Mistress Cooper didn’t try to call his bluff.
‘Vassal.’ Mistress Cooper’s form burst apart to swirl into a colorless streak of nimbus light, the dark lantern dancing before the Poe. It twisted around the teen once before aiming down into the depths.
Link twisted in the water, following with gentle kicks and weaving. The other ghosts were flitting about them in a gaggle. Their emotions still beating upon the teen, but the blonde pushed them aside.
He could see the haze of pollution he was swimming through, could feel it cling to his clothes and flesh. It was a thick, greasy film. The teen followed them through the twisting pipes, around buildings and sometimes, through old homes. Bodies were trapped, bloated and rotted with flesh beginning to slough off. There were no predators or bottom feeders in the lake yet to eat the dead clean. It made him feel a little sick, knowing he was filtering the water through his lungs that the bodies were rotting in.
The bodies should have bothered Link on a more personal level. At least, there was a distant part of him that thought he should be bothered. He couldn’t exactly recognize any of the faces. Too badly decayed and ruined. He could make guesses, since he could recognize homes though. Besides that tiny seed within him, no other emotion rected beyond a desire to not be contaminated by their death..
‘Vassal.’ Widower Marks’s spirit with an empty lantern floated close, eyes dark with the hate that was evident in the voice that grated on the teen’s mind. Link didn’t acknowledge the Poe beyond a pointed look. ‘You go to the one who holds your leash. Tell your master that the Hero of Time will kill him.’
‘I have no master.’ Link replied back, anger burning away the ghostly energies pressing against him. ‘There is no Hero of Time, either.’
Widow Marks whirled away, mocking laughter filling the teen’s mind.
Link ignored the ghost, concentrating on following Mistress Cooper’s trail. The phantoms following all paused as Mistress Cooper stopped in front of a shimmering red shield with a Trident etched in gold. The teen slipped through the shield easily, his blood boiling as he did.
It felt glorious.
Leaving the Poes of the Lower Levels behind, he swam downward. He knew where his target was. He was swimming to the same room he fought the Seraph. Link darted through a doorway that wavered like the surface.
He was a little surprised when he was spat out into dry air. He plopped wetly on the ground. He gasped and then coughed, water ejected from his lungs as he watched his body morph back into its normal appearance. Gasping a little, Link got to his feet, looking around.
The Seraph was in the middle of the grated floor, kneeling. The sword was held in gauntleted fists in front of the figure, the helmed head bowed. The wings were arched around the body. A lantern with many-hued flames hung from the Seraph’s belt.
Link frowned, putting his hand on the Master Sword on his back. His palms were on fire when they touched the hit. He ignored the pain, senses sharpening as he watched the still figure.
“You intrude upon my meditations.” Monk’s voice echoed in the high ceiling chamber. Link frowned, confused. The helm raised and Monk’s blue eyes looked out at him. Instead of the Seraph’s face being covered, this time there was only a nose patrician. “I defied death to complete my mission. Why have you come?”
“To kill you.” Link stated to see the reaction of the man, drawing the Master Sword with a raspy whisper and hooking his shield on his arm. “Who are you?”
“I am Error. Error Monk, brother of Bagu Monk, former Guardian to the Princess and the last of the Shieka.” The Seraph introduced himself, standing and giving a slight bow at the waist. “You’ll ruin everything, Vassal. Step down and I will not be forced to kill you. Live to serve your master another day.”
Error Monk. Brother to Bagu Monk. Hmmm…
Pieces were snapping into place, Link’s blue eyes gaining a soft yellow sheen. He twirled the blade, his palm screaming in pain from the heat from the hilt. It explained Monk’s attitude towards him. Why he was sent on all these suicide missions. Monk was just too cowardly to attack him head on.
“Well, well, well. If you think you can actually get it right this time, you can try to kill me. I doubt you’ll have much luck, seeing as you’re dead.” Link scoffed, rage boiling over and overriding the pain. “I’m going to kill you again, then I’m going to kill your brother. I may finish off Gannon first. Got a lot of payback to deal out, you know.”
The Seraph’s blue eyes flashed.
“You will not make it out of here alive, Vassal!”
The Seraph kicked off the ground, feathers from his wings exploding, leaving tattered bone frames behind. The flesh rotted through, the armor rusting and disintegrating. Link dashed forward, howling in rage.
He swatted the Rotting Seraph’s blade aside with his shield, thrusting forward. The corpse nimbly turned away from the stroke, sweeping a foot out and knocking the teen’s feet from under him. Error raised his blade and slammed it down, missing as Link rolled out of the way.
Jumping to his feet, Link dodged another swing, stabbing the Master Sword through the opening and knocking off a bit of the rotting right shoulder. Error roared, backing off a pace before pressing forward. Link shrugged off the strikes, parrying with his sword or shield. He grinned fiercely at the dead Monk brother.
“I’m better than you. Should I tell your brother I killed you again?” The teen taunted. Error screamed raising his blade over his head for a strike. Link flowed in like water, popping the Rotting Seraph in the face with the hilt of his sword, then the stomach, then bashing the overhead swing with his shield, disarming Error. Shock showed in those dead eyes a moment before Link beheaded him.
The body fell; a rotting corpse in tattered brown robes once more. Pivoting on a heel, Link sheathed the Master Sword, eyeing the steaming palm of his hand.
‘There is an Ocarina at the pedestal.’ Mistress Cooper’s voice whispered against his mind. Link shrugged, wrapping his hand in ratty bandages, blood staining through them quickly. ‘I will guide you to where you need to play.’
The pedestal that Zelda had been on was still there. The shaft of light that cut through the gloom (but who knows where it originated from) still bathed the pedestal in an unearthly luminescence. Link swam across the water that separated the two platforms, managing to drag himself back out of the water and hack his lungs clear once more.
The stones were missing, which was a pity to a small part of the former thief. He felt around the base, fingers pausing over the Triforce symbol. He pressed it in and revealing a metallic blue colored ocarina. One crest was lying by the instrument, but it looked like it had been recently been placed there. He scowled, not wanting to travel back to Zora’s Domain to grab the other, but resigned to it.
The sound of the forest, creatures calling out to each other from the treetops, filled the eerie stillness. A girl with sad blue eyes on the bridge before him, a wooden ocarina offered, a promise of continued friendship and a link to bind them.
A white horse thundered past with two passengers, one clutched by a militant woman, upon its back. The darkness of the sky was all encompassing with only streaks of lightening to break the gloom. A desperate throw and an object sailed past.
A tune piped and the howl of rushing, roaring wind answered the call. The dizzying sensation of being swept up from the ground by the twisting air was intense.
The teen frowned and shook his head, the haunting images and tunes of the instrument ringing between his ears.
He grabbed it from the disintegrated padding and tucked it his tunic, grabbing the crest as well. He glanced down, wondering when his pants turned such a dark gray. They almost looked black.
Link made his way back to the entrance, just holding the water in his lungs through the chamber he fought Error until he reached the other side of the room and jumping through.
Following the empty lantern through some back caves. His ears popped a few times on the ascension back to the surface of the lake. His head popped free and he yanked himself into a cavern.
He emptied his lungs, ignoring the oily aftertaste clinging to his tongue. He could see the faint light of dawn touching the sky through the mouth. The blonde walked forward, mildly annoyed when he smacked into an invisible barrier. The notion of merely leaving the cave dashed. The teen sighed, knowing that it had been too good to be true. He could expend a lot of energy to possibly blast through it, but it felt more prudent to conserve his energy for the upcoming battle he’d have with Monk.
Link glanced at the walls of the grotto, not surprised to see music notes etched across it. The teen frowned. He’d never played an instrument in his life, let alone read music. He gave a shrug and brought the instrument up, feeling his body rock to a beat.
He tested out a few of the scales before taking a deep breath and watching the notes on the cave wall.
The azure eyes flowed shut. His body moving to a beat he felt, as opposed to heard. He started to play an eerie Requiem for the Lost, the notes rising into the chilly night air. The notes flowed from somewhere deep inside the teen, teasing the currents of the night air. The Poes of the lake crowded around him, enraptured by the tune. They flowed apart to leave a path that Error’s angry spirit floated down. The lantern of multi-colored flames flaring angrily and seeming to reach towards the surrounding spirits.
Error launched himself at the long eared teen, slamming against a strong mental barrier. The lantern attached to his spirit began to vibrate as the song assaulted Error. It touched his damaged soul in ways that were almost a violation. It attempted to calm, to soothe the savage rage inside the spirit.
Error beat against it, over and over until he felt a psychic lash strike him hard. The world dissolved to darkness and he floated, frozen in place. The reedy song continued and the world finally fell into focus.
A small island of sand sat in an endless expanse of water. A tree grew from the center of the tiny island and reach for the clouded, dark heavens. It was different from the mental plane that Bagu and Error trained in together, but the same in feeling. The sense of melancholy and lose were overwhelming for a moment, the sky roiling in response.
There was a dark form sleeping beneath the tree, Error blinked and walked closer. It looked like a wolf. The canine figure was wavering in the shadows and Error began to take a step forward to get a better view when his body jerked.
The spirit looked down at his chest, shocked to see a black gauntlet with a gold stamped design fist reaching through his sternum. His mouth opened and closed for a moment. There was no blood, this form was insubstantial, but the psychic force of the blow drained his power considerably. His mind hung on frantically, fraying beneath the stress.
The fist jerked out of the Poe’s chest and the spirit gasped and stumbled as he twisted around to face his aggressor. It was the Vassal. His tunic was blood red, accented in gold. There was a intricately designed gorget around his throat. The dark red hat had a strange, gold stamped circlet over his brow, spikes jutting through his dark blonde bangs. The Vassal’s eyes were a glittering yellow, cold and malicious as they looked Error over.
“You shouldn’t be here, thing.” The Vassal informed Error, the voice was deep and almost distracted the invading spirit from the sudden jab. “I’ll help you leave.”
Error blocked the next strike, feeling his mind strain under just a brush of contact. He became lost in defending against the vicious onslaught. He couldn’t fit in any offensive moves and finally gave up trying, focusing on finding an opening to escape.
Back in the physical realm, the assembled Poes watched Error’s spirit thrash in a silent, invisible struggle. The haunting, soothing music played on, the teen not wavering in the tune. Time ceased to have meaning. There was only the Vassal, Error and the Requiem.
The Error’s lantern shivered and shook before finally bursting as the Requiem trilled into a climax.
The flames burst free, separating into individual colors to rip into the waiting Poes. A shrill, eerie cry of jubilation swelled with the piping melody. Color swamped the spirits, their lanterns encasing their flames. Wind picked up, screaming across the frozen surface of the lake and whirl winding inside the tiny cave.
The Poes rode the furious streams of air, their lanterns breaking to let the spirits free. The flames burst free from the cave, urged on by the rushing gale, leaving Error and the Vassal alone.
The Requiem finally trailing to a emotive conclusion, the teen coming from his trance to look upon the kneeling Error’s figure. The silence was almost painful, the air dwindling into an anticipating stillness.
The blue-eyed teen stared down at the Poe, the emerald blaze having dwindling down to the size of a candle flame. Error was clutching at his chest, the rest of his body having dissolved into nothing.
“Just leave already.” The teen growled, slamming his boot down on the lantern. The emerald flame was snuffed, Error’s figure wrenching in silent pain before shredding into nothing.
Link turned towards the cave’s mouth, a little confused to see that dusk had fallen. The smell of rotting flesh hit his nose. The teen frowned, face screwed up in disgust as he glanced around. Planted in the soft ground off to the side of the cave, a zora corpse was crucified. There was a ragged hole punched through the chest, delicate bones splintering through the flesh. The stomach had been ripped open, a crest resting inside of the gaping tripe.
This gift-wrapped crest concerned the blonde. This meant someone was watching him. The zora didn’t crucify himself, which was obvious. Who was helping him? Someone was following his movements. It supported his growing suspicions about the so-called Sages trying to get him killed. Or did it? He was rushed straight here from Zora’s Domain. That zora engineer may have known his destination, but how would anyone know to plant the zora by this cave?
Questions that needed to be answered, but the teen was willing to bet he wouldn’t get them. He grabbed the crest, wiping it on the ground and hesitating at the site of blades to strap onto his boots to glide across the lake’s frozen surface.
Someone was interfering far too much for the blonde’s liking. Either way, he would continue on without the Sages. It was clear he couldn’t trust anyone. He would gather the other crests and head to the desert. He could vaguely remember the passage speaking about the desert.
He’d kill anyone in his way. They were most likely traitors if they dared to get in his path to kill Gannon. The blonde blinked, fog was beginning to rise from the lake’s surface. It was thickening fast.
It would take him two hours to cross the lake. The fog would make things more difficult. Especially considering how dense it was already.
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A/N: I'm trying to get these done. Star Wars the Old Republic is distracting...
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Legend of Zelda: Book of Mobius