Lethe

Chapter 10: wrath of the river

chapter 6: wrath of the river

Ganondorf was adept in magic and in the powers that swirl in such mysteries, and as whispers passed his ears and wrecked wanderers fled through the mist, he recalled the lessons he had learned as a young magician. His adoptive mothers did what they could to teach him advanced magic, despite the crippling slowness in which he learned it.

Of the many things he had learned, the identity of the thing he had just encountered was something a bit obscured. It was a rare sort of entity, but
from the moment he sensed its presence, he could tell what it was.

Memories, he had learned a long time ago, could have mystical properties if in the right hands. All people had memories that they did not consider valuable or pleasant--memories that are placed in the back of their minds and ignored. Certain memories, if they are powerful enough and abandoned, can become wanderers. Ganondorf shivered at the thought, but he was sure this was what he saw. This wanderer was without a keeper to shelter it, a festering wound that searched endlessly for someone willing to remember it, growing perpetually worse as the centuries drifted by.

The words it spoke, and the forms it took, were a history unwritten and unbridled. He had merely stumbled upon its tracks, been caught up in its web, and now he was unsure if he would be able to escape from its path. He had learned that such phenomenon were extremely rare, but also very dangerous--lost memories desired hosts, and were often so clouded with pure emotion that they could be violent.

Ganondorf did his best to limp away from this haunted ground, but could hear shadows following him and taunting him. He swallowed the blood seeping into his mouth and kept moving, and with his hard work, he came closer to returning to the field of talus.

Pain altered everything in his body, including his sight and other senses. Everything around him seemed to quiver, a sticky web of colors and tastes, and crimson blotches blinded him as his scalp continued its bleeding. The earth and flesh shuddered as one, as a unified mass of stench and grating heat, as a dripping expanse of water. He could hear only the breeze and the eternal shower of the rosy liquid down his broken stature. All was hot, cold, stiff, limp, sharp, soft--

He was dizzy from the unsettling confusion that dawned upon him, and he grew more panicked as devils picked up their speed. A sprawling movement of limbs whisked past him, and it was so black, so wiry in form, so wicked in intent, that he could not make out whether it was a rat or a behemoth. It was only there, scribbling its will, cackling at his growing fear.

He whirled, huffed, blood coming out in streams, numbness pinching his arm yet again. But as his vision corrected itself, and as the wave of torment ceased, he realized that the shadow was nothing at all. It was his horse, who had impatiently waited for his return, and was now briskly trekking through the woods.

He did not have time to wonder why his perception was being twisted. He only clicked his tongue, called up the horse for assistance, and leaned onto the beast's broad ribcage for the rest of the trip. For that brief time, Ganondorf felt himself at ease. The comfort of a familiar scent, body, and warmth was welcoming after encountering the horrors that he recognized as alien.

The rocks stood pale under the newly darkened sky. The world above seemed to broil and stir angrily, torrents of gray and red breaking the fragile barrier that kept the earth and sky separate. The clouds groaned with thunder, and the trees hissed from the bowing wind. There, under this terrible wasteland of fire and smoke, Ganondorf identified someone standing idly in the open field.

"Link?"

He felt a strange mixture of fear and relief upon identifying the person, and forced himself onward to begin crossing the ocean of marble and soil. His horse tensed despite his firm command to move--its hairs bristled and the animal emitted an angry snort of defiance. This was unlike its usual behavior, and Ganondorf was forced to leave it behind. Through his delirium, Ganondorf did not try to read his horse's worry.

"Link," he sputtered again, limping closer to the boy's side. "I've been--"

No, no, this was not right... Ganondorf found himself hesitating all the more as his steps drew closer. From a distance, this thing looked like Link, but the nearer he came to it, the more its traits betrayed its very different contours. The flesh jerked with a spur of inhumanity, and the colors it sought to imitate were ever-so-slightly obscured. It was not Link, but a cheap knock-off, a weak attempt at mockery. Whatever it may be, it was alive, breathing, peering out from beneath a layer of skin. Its limbs grew out like stalks, disproportioned and useless, groping in the empty air for some evidence of life.

Ganondorf stopped, stared dumbly at this gruesome puppet, hearing its strings buzz and seeing its insect-like eyes bursting in size. This idol turned to him as well, and gave him a long look. For a moment, it seemed, Ganondorf could overlook the frightening, exaggerated features, and there he could see Link quite simply. It was merely the boy, gazing pointlessly with his empty eyesight, quizzically statued. It was Link, for that moment, who looked at him and was attempting a question--but then, the humanity vanished, and all that was left was an empty vessel and a puncturing glare.

His senses were so overwhelmed by this doppleganger that he could not help but reach out for it. His curiosity defeated him, and in a time of perhaps extreme foolishness, Ganondorf tried to grab for the Link-thing.

Like a reflection in a pool of water, the image shattered and rippled upon being touched. His touch went through it, and the being dissolved before his eyes.

A newly-awakened sense of panic started to drive him now. A sliver of pain etched at his abdomen, and the familiar voice was grating through his head.

"Where is Link?"

He already knew--he could feel it, and could tell that this thing was toying with him. Bitter as he may be, Link was still connected to him, and if the boy was in danger, Ganondorf was in danger as well.

For a while, the voice merely unleashed a series of breaths and groans, but after deliberations, he received an answer. I have him.

Ganondorf looked about the field, but found nothing but emptiness. "Where?"

Wherever I wish him to be.

Ganondorf cringed as he felt the blunt of a knife smooth along his stomach--whatever it was, and wherever it had the boy, it was obviously debating over whether to gut the boy where it kept him. "That's all well and good," Ganondorf lamely began, feeling the blood loss affect his thinking. The environment was becoming exceptionally fuzzy, and he started to lose track of his thoughts. This did not make well for a convincing argument. "...But, you see, I need him back here now."

I don't think you do, and besides... I don't want to give him back.

Ganondorf felt a terrible flash of pain. He keeled over, able to feel the invisible nails digging into his stomach. He desperately flailed, trying to numb the pain and remove the sharp nails, but there were no nails to pull. He fell into the dirt, gasping and blearily looking up. The clouds continued their crimson rage, and he could feel his body failing him.

There was an amused croon that echoed through his mind, and then the pain began to fade into a sore throb. His breathing steadied, but he was still unable to move. Whatever had stabbed Link had been removed, but the severe pain remained, eventually merging with the countless other aches that plucked him.

Come and find him, the voice mocked. The blood he spills is a nuisance.

Ganondorf felt another jerk of pain, his strength rushing from his body, leaving him cold and trembling. His fear and paranoia only made it more difficult, and he was unable to endure it. He was in a desperate search for means of numbing the pain, but was abandoned with the reality that nothing would heal it. Icily, he took in a breath. His eyes carefully wandered to the ground, concentrating on his motions. He clenched his teeth and planned his movements; he wanted to avoid any unnecessary motion. The more he moved, the more it hurt.

Are you deaf?

"Leave me, demon," Ganondorf dryly hissed. The voice guffawed.

I am no demon. To you, I am a gift.

Ganondorf couldn't understand this logic.

I can make you free.

Ganondorf cautiously froze, muttering suspiciously, "What sort of freedom are you offering me?"

The boy bleeds, and you bleed also. I can cut the link. Or, if you prefer, I can cut both "links"--your connection with him, as well as the boy's throat.

Ganondorf, though the offer was severely tempting, couldn't help but remain uneasy. He made himself sound wary as he asked, "Although I like the idea... You do realize that the bond was enforced by the gods themselves, do you not?"

The ill laughter again racked his mind, split with a foul hiss. The voice continued to sound amused by his observations, and chuckled, The gods? What power do they have? I am stronger than them. You obviously do not know who I am.

"You've been bothering me quite enough to make me wonder," he replied wryly. "Do I dare ask?"

There was a silence that was broken only by the heavy breaths that the evil released, sick gasps between heaves and coughs. The sounds were bemused, considering its answer to such a bold question. After that moment, and realizing that Ganondorf was slowly losing interest, the voice broke into an eerie monotone.

The River. Let them drink from it. Memories slip. History flows forward, but the past is changed. The River flows on. Let the souls drink and forget... The River of Hell. Behind the land of White, the gates of Hell release the waters...

Ganondorf snorted, "What?"

...I am the waters.

"Wicked thing, what do you mean?"

...Lethe. River of Hell. Lethe. I am the River... Lethe.

Ganondorf struggled to stand up, becoming annoyed by the voice's drones. "Lethe?"

That is my name.

"What are you?"

Don't you know?

"Why would I know?" Ganondorf roared impatiently.

...I don't know. I just thought you knew. The voice was sounding increasingly apathetic and dull, but the sense Ganondorf received that told him the voice was mocking him never lifted. Ganondorf, quickly despising the tone, became uninterested in its offer. It was obviously not sane, whatever it may be. Accepting such a bribe would be foolish.

"I do not care for your offer."

That is fine.

"I want him back."

You're a liar.

Ganondorf's feet at last gained the strength they needed to prop himself up again. Still slightly queasy, he now stood upright, but did not know where to even begin looking for the 'Lethe.' He growled at the creature's puzzles. "I'm warning you, I am not in the mood."

Why? I say the truth. You don't want him back. Just wait a moment...

The voice faded, replaced by a slick series of taps, almost like rapid clicks of a tongue. Ganondorf, knowing that it was doing something, ignored the increasing pain that stirred in his chest. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

The voice did not respond.

"Tell me!" he shrieked impatiently. Fear was beginning to shake his tone, and as the sounds disappeared, he frantically turned to the depths of the forest. He sped as quickly as he could manage with the broken arm, and nearly plowed back into the maze of trees in search of Lethe. His steps hesitated at the realization that he had no idea where he could search. The intensity of the sound that was ringing in his ears drove him mad, making him even more desperate, but there was no hope. The green hid all that existed, and by now, Lethe would have dragged Link too far for him to find.

The forest hid them both. Ganondorf nearly erupted in a rage, but before his fury could thrive, the pain in his gut abruptly stopped. There was a distant snap somewhere in the back of his mind, as though a thread had been snared and cut. For a second, there was a throb of blood rushing to his head, but the dizziness lifted. All that remained was the steady ache from his injuries. Ganondorf froze, lungs heaving, but otherwise having no direct course of action. He was unsure if action was even necessary--the pain had stopped, and the voice was gone.

Ganondorf did not realize what had happened until he earnestly reviewed what Lethe had offered him.

Lethe had cut the link. The connection was gone.

Ganondorf was free.

Ganondorf stood, absolutely dumbfounded, for this was all he could do. Slowly, Ganondorf began to envision what this freedom meant, but could find no reason to move. Instead, he stood in place, eyes darting and watching for movement around him. There was nothing.

Ganondorf became increasingly irritated with himself, reasoning that this was a positive result. He had wanted this from the beginning, but now that it actually occurred, he was truly lost. Now without chains, Ganondorf had no place to go. This problem became eerily clearer as he waited and wondered what his next motion should be. It had all happened so quickly, and now Ganondorf was beginning to entertain the idea that he didn't really want to be released yet. He despised this idea, but it was getting to be more reasonable. At least the chains had given him a lead.

The trees stared back at him, offering no suggestions as to where he should go, or what he should do. Ganondorf timidly tightened his fingers into a fist at his side, taking in a hesitant breath. Think, he earnestly urged himself. You have to think.

What was he to think about? He didn't even know.

He worried now about the imminent danger that Link was certainly facing. On the surface, he instantly dismissed it, reminding himself that the task was forced upon him. He anxiously tried to refrain from thinking about it, repulsed by the idea of wanting to save the boy. The idea was ridiculous--there was no reason for him to do so. It should have been obvious to him that Link deserved to die for the immense cruelty that he delivered, even if it was by the hands of something Ganondorf did not trust. He buried his fears, wanting to be able to forget his enemy and continue without any weariness to his heart.

But there was an undeniable wish somewhere hidden to look for Link anyway. He wasn't sure of himself, and knew not of an explanation for the feeling, though he suspected foul play. It was another mental trick, or so he hoped. The prospect of actually caring for his enemy's fate disgusted him. He had felt this frustration several times before. He wanted to hate Link, yet there was this annoying pest of a conscience buzzing in his ear. Normally, it was swatted carelessly away like a fly, but now it held some sort of power--and where it received this power, he did not know. He knew, though, that being close to the boy had not helped. Personal attachments were always inconvenient when trying to doom the one attached.

In the end, it was not his logical side that triumphed. The trouble of the situation was that there were too many uncertain variables, and Ganondorf had come to the conclusion that without Link, he was very lost. Besides, who's to say this couldn't be some sort of trap? Perhaps this devil expected him to leave Link for dead (he would have expected as much), and in fact this entire arrangement was an illusion. How did he know he was unconnected? The pain was gone, and he could feel a terrifying detachment from the boy, but what if Lethe had the power to artificially present these symptoms?

After thoroughly convincing himself that this was a dangerous circumstance that required Link's survival, Ganondorf made the shocking decision to save Link--that is, once he figured out where Lethe could possibly be.

He scanned the world with a long, discombobulated stare, searching for any minute detail that could have been overlooked. He thought it a trick of the light at first, but there was a flicker of crimson reflection in the distance, tracing a crystal thread of water.

Water? This, Ganondorf decided, was a promising place to start. Perhaps Lethe was quite literally a river, or at least was connected to a body of water in some way. Ganondorf made one step forward, and from what he could tell the step was a solid one, but with the single, crooked lunge, he found himself missing the ground completely. He was so utterly dizzy and lost that he could not walk straight. The world spun before him and he wobbled to remain standing on his two feet.

It took hard, laborious effort to make this journey across the field without collapsing. But the sky was swelling with steam and water, and the river that came into view glistened from the red and grays overhead. The river was easy to spot, and even easier to spot was the cave the water spilled into. It was a gaping orifice in the side of the hill, humming from the streaming depths and echoes of flow. He approached it warily, and found the cave quite sizable enough for himself, and found the tunnel so long that he couldn't see the end of it before the water faded into the obscurity of the darkness.

He would have to submerge in the waters to fit--the cave was created only from the river's power to erode stone, and so the cave's path only yielded to the chilly, brimming flow. He entered without hesitation, the stream swelling up to his knees. He waded onward, the abyss gobbling him up, leaving no world to which he could look back. The light disappeared and the outside faded like a pleasant but forgettable dream.

There was silence and an undeniable feeling that something was accompanying him. It enticed him senselessly--he feared it yet he knew he needed this thrill edging along his skin. He was positive now that the thing he searched for lay here.

A gasp, splash, crash of icy water--and there everything ceased to make sense.

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