Chapter XIII: Darkest Before Dawn

Riding with Veil was not the unbearable torture Link had expected it to be, though he was annoyed at first by the shadow’s casual conversation, or attempts at it, to say the least. Link kept his replies blunt and to the point, hoping that perhaps his frank demeanor would put a damper on Veil’s chattering. Instead, the shadow happily took to talking to himself, knowing full well that Link was listening.

While an hour of this would have easily driven any other person out of their sanity, Link was oddly not bothered by it, most likely being the fact that their voices sounded so similar, though Veil’s was perhaps a little deeper than Link’s, and breathier, calmer, more fluid. It was almost relaxing to listen to, and every now and then Link would forget about it, or suddenly wonder if he had been thinking aloud. This happened several times, for wherever the Hylian’s mind wandered, be it the cool spring breeze that rolled across the vast expanse of Hyrule Field or the warm sun above, Veil’s spoken words echoed these thoughts.

And gradually, Link began to grow comfortable to his twin’s voice, to find ease in his presence. He tried to pretend—just for a moment or two—that Veil was his brother, and this quest was not happening, that they were not about to venture into the arms of danger and darkness, and that all was right in the world. It was a nice thought that filled Link with warmth, but soon reality found its way to him, and he shook the idea from his mind.

Nonsense. Veil was not his brother. Veil was his shadow. He wasn’t even a real person. What good was pretending going to do? It was ludicrous. He would do better not to waste his time entertaining these pointless fantasies.

Gazing down at the shadow of Glynfrid cast by the sun’s angle, and seeing no indication of the riders upon his back, Link could not help but to feel as if he had been infected, diseased by the being who should have never been. Deep inside, his heart was filled with guilt for his thoughts, but he would never say so. Not to Veil, or anyone. And so he kept his mouth shut, and hoped that they would reach the edge of the forest soon.

Veil talked freely and openly about anything and everything, talked for the sake of talking, knowing that someone was there to listen. The joy of human companionship filled his heart to bursting, and with good reason; he had longed for this moment for an eternity, and now it was finally here. He was reunited with his master, and no bonds or tethers could restrain the torrent of happiness and gratitude rushing forth from his heart.

Everything was new to him, the clouds above in the blue sky, the warm orb of the sun, the cool wind, the flowing grass, the brightly colored flowers. When they had stopped for a short mid-afternoon break, Veil had wandered off to each and every patch of wildflowers, discovering the gift of scent, and had sprawled out upon his back on the soft grass, closing his eyes and relishing the warmth of the sun soaking into his dark clothes.

Navi, unable to contain her natural urge to frolic as fairies do, joined Veil in wallowing in the beauty of the earth. She pointed out each specie of flora to him, and instructed him on how to weave wildflowers together to form a circlet. He wove a crown of rose angel for Link, which looked very lovely in his golden hair.

Everywhere was life, all around him: the tiny blue beetles that crawled around in the soft dirt, the big green grasshoppers that jumped in the foliage, the bees buzzing about with the butterflies, the furry rodents scurrying in the tall grass, and he was enraptured by the birds that flew up above, and delighted in their songs. The most wonderful creatures in all the world, he said of them. He would like to live in a place that was filled with songbirds, so joyful and carefree as they rode the zephyrs with merry ease.

Life, he came to realize, was beautiful, and living was divine. It made his existence before his rescue seem horrific, agonizing, and torturous. And to most, it would have been.

For Veil, it had been a seven year stay in hell, locked away from the world above. For seven long years he had waited alone, each hour stretching itself, drawing out so that it time seemed almost nonexistent. There was nothing but water and mist, endless and yet finite, a prison cell of silence. Not a sound, not a whisper of breeze, nothing. For seven years. Nothing to do but wait. And wait. And wait again.

By the first year he had grown tired of throwing his body against the invisible walls of mist.

By the second year he had lost his mind.

By the third year he had tried every possible way to kill himself, to no avail.

He had spent the fourth year sitting under the tree on the small island, thinking. Remembering. Every little detail that came to him. And it was through memory that Veil found the will to live again. Because of Link, he found the patience to wait. Link had to return again. He just had to.

By the fifth year he had remembered the words he had pulled from Link’s mind, and he repeated them again and again inside his head, practiced saying them as he walked back and forth, over and over, across the watery wasteland. He talked to the tree, but it never answered him back. Agony overtook him, and he gave up.

By the sixth year he had pulled himself to his feet again and practiced the words, even though he didn’t know the meaning of some. He carried on long conversations with the tree for days and days on end; he had to be prepared for when the Master came back to find him. Always he talked of Link.

During the seventh year, something strange began to happen: the tree began to sprout and put forth leaves, a little more each day. It filled Veil with hope, and he took it as a sign that the Master was on his way. It wouldn’t be long now, he knew. He relished in the belief that he had brought this tree to bloom by talking to it about such beauty and grace that the Master possessed. It was Veil’s first creation, and he had hoped the Master would like it.

“Did you?” Veil asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Link replied automatically, then checked himself. “Wait, I mean—what?”

“Did you like it, Link? The tree, I mean.”

“Down in the temple?” Pause. “It was . . . all right.”

“Does that mean you hated it, Link?”

“No.”

“Then you loved it?”

Veil’s hopeful tone made Link swallow down his initial response—which would have been the same answer as the previous question—but knowing how sensitive the shadow was, decided to go with an unanimated: “Yes, I loved it. It was very nice.”

Veil gave a gleeful squeeze to Link’s waist. “It makes me so glad to hear that, Link!”

“Why on earth are you saying my name every five seconds? It’s not like you’re talking to anyone else.”

Veil seemed alarmed by the question. “But . . . it’s the most wonderful name in the world. I love to say it. Unless you’d rather I call you Master . . .”

“No, thank you. None of that servant-master talk anymore, Veil.”

Link felt the arms unwrap from around his waist slowly, hands coming to rest upon his hips. The shadow’s voice whispered into his ear: “I like hearing you say my name even more.”

A head rush sent Link’s senses reeling sideways, and suddenly his cheeks were burning hotly. Veil’s mysterious touch sent strange feelings fluttering through Link’s insides, like butterflies made of pure light; delicate, sparkling and frosty. They danced their way from his belly to his heart to his head, where they melted into his mind and cooled the hot temper that had been boiling there. Peace. Patience. Temperance.

Link’s tense body became relaxed, and with a sudden sigh, his head lolled back against Veil’s shoulder, his hot cheek brushing his twin’s. The reins fell from his limp hands, but Veil placed one arm around Link’s waist and took up the reins in his free hand. Link’s eyelashes fluttered momentarily, as if he had suddenly grown sleepy—but he was not sleepy, merely overwhelmed.

“We . . . have to find this mage, Veil,” he uttered. “Before this gets any worse.”

“Does it hurt?” he asked gently.

“No. It feels . . .” Link tried to describe the sensation flowing through his body. “I-I don’t feel like myself. I’m not in my own body. It happens . . . every time you touch me. Veil.” His voice fell. “Do you feel anything when we touch?”

“Only warmth, Link,” he replied softly. “Warmth and peace.”

“Is everything all right over there?” Sheik asked from up ahead a few paces, looking concerned.

“He is feeling strange again,” Veil answered. “We should hurry if we plan to reach the edge of the forest by nightfall.”

Sheik nodded without another word, and the horses trotted steadily along, heading off the eastern path to where no road led: the southern forests.

Certainly enough, as the sun began to sink into the west and turn the sky red and orange, ahead of the riders loomed an expanse of trees, their trunks thick and dark, gnarled and twisted with age. No birds could be heard, nor woodland animals scurrying about; it was silent and motionless. The forest spanned the broad gap between two sheer canyon walls, narrow at the mouth but gradually widening beyond the wood line like a funnel. If an ambush were waiting for them, they would have no place to run.

Sheik did not like it at all, nor did any of the other members of the party, judging by their uneasy reaction. Even the horses were unnerved, clomping about in agitation and flipping their tails about anxiously. Sheik turned to look at Veil, who looked at Sheik, who looked at Link, who looked at Veil, who looked at Navi, who looked at Sheik, and nobody said anything for a long time.

Finally, Veil spoke what they were all thinking: “I don’t want to go in there.”

“We should camp here for tonight and continue on in the morning, that way we don’t burn all the fuel for the lanterns,” Sheik said.

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Navi agreed.

Veil slid down off of Glynfrid and then helped Link dismount. He was still somewhat disoriented, moving about groggily as if his entire body had gone partially to sleep. He was almost unable to keep his feet under himself, and would have fallen flat on his face several times had not Veil been there to catch him. After a while his condition began to improve, and he could finally stand on his own again without any assistance.

By nightfall, Link was almost back to his old self. Together, he and Sheik unloaded some bedrolls and blankets while Veil took care to see that the horses were stationed securely and properly fed and watered. Already they were becoming accustomed to the strange human’s company and were no longer frightened by him. Of course, when compared to the spooky forest a few yards away, Veil must have been a welcome sight to them.

When Sheik began striking flint to steel to make a fire, Veil planted himself at his side to stare on in fascination and curiosity. He watched the sparks of light fly into the tinder of dried moss and twigs, and gaped when he saw the first gray trails of smoke begin to rise. Sheik leaned over and blew gently, feeding more twigs and kindling until the flickering orange and yellow flames were leaping cheerfully upward.

Veil looked as excited as if he had done it himself. “Sheik, you created fire!” he exclaimed.

“That’s nothing,” the Sheikah commented coolly, nodding toward Link who was sitting across the way, staring into the black forest pensively. “Link here has been given the gift of wielding Din’s Flame, a brand of magic restricted to a rare few. Compared to him, my methods must seem most archaic.”

“You can summon fire through magic?” Veil asked incredulously of his twin, who nodded in reply. “Would you show me?”

Link looked slightly embarrassed. “I haven’t summoned Din’s Flame since my first quest—I don’t know if I can anymore.”

“Surely you haven’t forgotten the summon?” Sheik said. “You should still have the gift, shouldn’t you?”

“There’s no harm in trying,” Navi said.

The dark haired young man scrambled up to go sit beside his twin, eagerly expecting to see magical flames bursting from Link’s person, and wanting to get as close as he could to the action. He was like a delighted child, shining eyes, smiling face and everything.

Link, after a vaguely annoyed expression, extended his left hand, palm open and facing upward, and closed his eyes, recalling the words from his memory: “Ember of the Goddess Din, reveal the brightest flame within. Fire that burns in darkest night, gather in my hand and give me light.”

He opened his eyes. There was nothing.

“Try again,” Navi suggested.

He repeated the incantation to no avail. Veil looked disappointed. Sheik frowned. “I hope this is not a symptom of your affliction,” he said. “One does not simply lose the power to wield magic.”

“Do you think Veil might have the gift?” Navi inquired.

Link glared at his shadow coldly.

“I doubt it,” said Sheik. “He may be Link’s exact copy, but only Link was bestowed the power.”

Veil noticed Link’s accusing stare, and defended himself with: “How could I have the gift? I didn’t even know what fire was until last night!”

“Yes, well, you’ve had more than enough time to take it from me since then.”

“Take it? How?” Veil asked, astonished that Link would accuse him of such a crime.

“Whenever you touch me!”

“How is that possible?”

“You affect me every time I’m close to you! Like you’re putting a spell on me!”

Sheik and Navi stared at the two identical young men as their argument grew hotter and hotter still.

“I’ve done nothing to you!”

“Liar!” Link spouted, appalled. “That is a bold-faced lie!”

“I would never lie to you!”

“You groped me all day!”

“It was nothing that you seemed to object to!”

A stunned silence fell. Link, his face a humiliated and angry shade of red, drew his lips into a thin line behind his tightly clenched teeth; he reacted swiftly, his left hand shooting out to deliver a full-forced slap across Veil’s face.

But the blow never fell.

Link gasped loudly as his hand was brought to a sudden halt, and before he had even realized it, Veil had his fist clenched tightly about Link’s wrist, looking as shocked by his own actions as his master. If it had been any other person, even a Sheikah with reflexes like a steel trap, the strike would have surely sent the receiver reeling backwards, for while Link possessed no superhuman strength or agility, he was still a warrior, and knew how to fell an enemy quickly.

“Let go of me,” Link said gutturally. “I said let go!”

“Veil, release him!” Sheik warned, though he was more concerned by what Link would do to Veil if he did not.

The shadow’s face twisted into an expression of helplessness. “I . . . can’t,” he uttered.

At that, Link’s right arm lashed out to land a punch. With little or no thought, Veil blocked it. With a growl of fury, Link leaped forward and he and Veil went rolling head over heel across the ground.

Sheik stood up in alarm as Navi cried, “Stop it, you two! One of you is going to get hurt!”

“Unf!” Link grunted as he hit the ground hard on his back with his shadow sitting astride him, pinning down his wrists.

“Link, I’m so sorry,” Veil said woefully. “Please forgive me!”

The Hylian struggled, and Sheik was almost on the verge of jumping in and pulling Veil off of him when suddenly a spark leaped up from Link’s open palm, and a fireball the size of an apple miraculously burst into being.

“Augh!”

“Din almighty!”

Both Veil and Link shouted in surprise and jumped; the shadow released his twin, who sat up and hurriedly shook his hand back and forth until the burning flame was extinguished.

Immediately, Veil took Link’s hand in his own, stroking it gently. “Are you hurt? Did it burn you? Are you all right?”

“Y-yes. I’m fine, I’m fine,” said a shaken Link. “It didn’t burn me. I’m all right.”

Veil sighed thankfully and placed his hand upon the side of Link’s head as they both caught their breath from the fearful shock. No signs of burn were upon the Hylian’s left hand—not even a charred mark.

“What the hell is going on here?” Sheik demanded. “Would somebody care to inform me? You two were just at each other’s throats!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Link said in a gentle voice. “I don’t know what came over me . . . I just got so angry . . .”

“I suppose you really can summon fire with magic, can’t you?” Veil asked, gazing at the rather ordinary looking hand he was still holding.

“It shouldn’t have worked without the spoken summon,” Navi said, flying in between them curiously. “Calling upon magic requires at least an incantation or symbolic gesture, unless of course, you happen to be a wizard . . .”

“Could Link have that kind of power, Navi?” the Sheikah inquired.

The fairy was at a loss. “I don’t . . . No, no he should not. Only the most powerful sorcerers can summon magic by thought alone.”

Needless to say, a long silence fell after that. The fire crackled steadily as crickets chirruped in the tall grass, and somewhere over Hyrule Field, an owl hooted. The thoughts of the small party were loud despite the relatively quiet night around them.

“Try it again,” Veil murmured to Link. “Try to summon the fire.”

The young Hylian slowly extended his hand, and all eyes were fixed upon it. They waited a while, but nothing happened. Not even a spark.

“I don’t understand,” Sheik muttered, crouching down beside his friend. “Power like that doesn’t fluctuate. You either have it or you don’t.”

“Or perhaps he just needs some flint . . .” Veil said.

“Very funny indeed,” Link retorted sarcastically.

“No, I mean . . . another part. Flint and steel. Like this.” The shadow reached out and cupped his hand beneath Link’s, and they were motionless for a moment. Then suddenly, there was a small popping sound and sparks flew from Link’s palm.

“By the gods-”

“Don’t move! Don’t move. Just wait.” Veil slipped his fingers between Link’s, and suddenly the fireball reappeared, larger and brighter than the previous one.

“V-Veil!”

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

“No! No, it feels . . . cold,” Link smiled in wonder, watching the fire sprouting from his own flesh like a small shrub, glowing white hot and billowing. “It’s a miracle.”

“It’s magic!” Navi exclaimed.

“Truly incredible,” Sheik agreed softly, glancing toward the shadow. “Perhaps you should have been named Flint instead.”

Veil grinned and said to Link, “I’m going to remove my hand now.”

“Don’t! Just wait-”

“You can keep it burning, I know you can.” And slowly, the dark haired young man withdrew his hand from underneath Link’s, and still the fire burned.

The Hylian beamed proudly. “I . . . I can do it!”

“Try tossing it,” Navi instructed, but before Link could do anything the ball of fire died down to a flickering flame and then went out, leaving nothing behind but a trail of thin smoke.

“No!” Link groaned in dismay. “No, I had it! It was just there . . . why would it leave all of the sudden?”

Sheik mulled, “Perhaps you have not yet recovered enough energy to keep the flame alive.”

“Or perhaps it’s all a part of the strange illness that plagues you,” Navi put in.

“Don’t speak of me as if I’m some diseased leper,” Link muttered, though he could not deny that he had been thinking of himself as such earlier that day. “It’s only a small problem. By this time tomorrow we’ll have found this Falavus fellow and I’ll be as good as new.”

“You’re certainly being optimistic all of the sudden,” Sheik said coolly, arching one golden eyebrow.

Link smiled, a genuine smile of happiness. “It feels good to know I’ve still got some magic in me.”

“Well, don’t forget the one who helped you find it in the first place,” Navi said, zipping over to dance above Veil’s ebony head. “I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t have been able to summon Din’s Flame had not Veil had a hand in the matter, tee hee!”

Veil smiled guiltily at his golden haired twin and helplessly shrugged. Oddly enough, Link returned the expression as if he were a mirror. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “For getting angry with you. And for trying to hit you.”

“It was nothing I wasn’t expecting, Link.” Veil smiled slightly, his gray eyes warming as he stared into his master’s blue ones. “You shall always have my forgiveness, no matter the transgression.”

“This is all quite fascinating,” Sheik muttered, rubbing his finger over his lower lip in deep thought. “He expected your reactions, just as he did when you first met him. Residual powers left over from Ganondorf’s evil? Or is it something inherent in his actual being? Could you perhaps be sharing the same thoughts, I wonder? But how does that explain the split powers, where Link can summon magic only when in contact with his shadow? Like one mind in two bodies. Puzzling, indeed.”

“My word, Sheik,” Navi said. “Have you been thinking about this all day?”

“It is my duty to observe,” he answered. “I merely put my thoughts to speech.”

“You should speak up more often, then,” Link said amicably. “Maybe if you do you’ll happen upon the answer before long, and we can call off this mad adventure.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” Navi pouted.

The mood of the small camp seemed to lighten dramatically after that, going from a maelstrom of aggressive intensity to a comfortable medley of apologies and meek laughter. Sheik began to feel as if he were trapped in the middle of a tug-o-war, being jerked in either direction by two completely opposite characters while at the same time trying to keep the order between the two. Emotionally speaking, it was exhausting work. If Link’s moods continued to swing so drastically at this rate, he felt was going to need more than just a little bit of patience to make it through the end of this quest with his sanity still intact.

After a light meal of dried meat and flat bread—during which Veil was most fascinated as his mortal friends consumed these elements—they laid out their bedrolls and stocked up on wood to keep the fire stoked throughout the night. Veil offered to take first watch, if not all watches, since he insisted that he did not need to sleep. Sheik, however, would have none of that, but the shadow was adamant in his insistence that he was best suited for the task.

“I know of the things that dwell in the dark,” he said seriously. “I would be able to recognize them more quickly than the mortal eye. Rest easy—I’ll not allow anything bad to befall my friends.”

Sheik believed his words with no doubt in his heart, and retreated to his palette with a mind free from worry. Still, he did not remove the delicate but deadly knives concealed within the gauze strips wrapped closely about his forearms. He always slept a little easier when he was armed.

Navi said that she was going to reconnoiter the surrounding area, and Link warned her not to venture too deep into the forest. The fairy agreed and darted off with promises of her return in the morning, hopefully with news of the terrain and any problems they might encounter en route through the perilous wood.

After she had departed, Link removed his green hat and placed it on the ground beside his sword bandolier and sheath containing the Master Sword. Then, using his folded arm as a pillow, he laid down on his side and drew the rough blanket over his body, wriggling about until he had found a comfortable position. Then he closed his eyes and was quiet thereafter.

Veil sat by the fire, stirring the coals occasionally with a stick and alternating between staring into the flames and gazing out at the looming shadow of the dark forest as it was silhouetted against the beautiful star-strewn sky. He thought about Falavus the Druid, of the quest to save Time, and what would become of himself if they ever succeeded in finding out what was happening to the world. Veil had never used his imagination to its full capabilities, but he was slowly and certainly learning how.

Most of the time, however, his thoughts kept returning to his beloved master, and more than once Veil caught himself staring down at Link’s sleeping form. Such power. Such fairness and grace and strength and courage within him. Veil was aware of it and he adored and admired all of it, for that was the essence of Link, and never would his devotion to him falter.

Taking no heed of his own mental admonitions and perhaps going against his better judgment, Veil reached out and brushed back a few golden strands that had fallen across Link’s rosy cheek. Slowly, soundlessly, he leaned down to place gentle kiss at the Hylian’s temple, smiled against the warm skin, and rose again to return to keeping an eye on the fire.

Had Veil possessed less modesty and given in to the strange urges coalescing in the core of his being, he would have kissed Link again, but his self-restraint and common decency told him not to take such advantage of his twin while he was sleeping and struggling through an undoubtedly difficult, confusing time in his life.

It was one thing to shower his affections on Link during the day, but to do so under the cover of darkness when Link was unaware of it seemed rather crude to Veil, who was much happier receiving a cross, embarrassed look than no reaction at all.