Legend of Zelda: Book of Mobius

Sorry, this one’s a little late…enjoy!

—Remembering something someone did or “said.”— Dreaming Thinking
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Link’s dark head vibrated against the steel paneling, the steady thuds serving to lull the tired teen to sleep more than wake. Disjointed images flowed through his mind, jumping and shifting with each heartbeat.

An iris drifting from the sky, rain falling around it in thick drops in slow motion.

A castle disintegrating in the middle of a mad windstorm, pinwheels blurs in the raging zephyrs.

Standing in the middle of the gale, flowers dancing on the air. He turned his face up, watching the rain descend from a gray sky.

He stopped looking at the purpling sky as the rain dwindled to nothing and was mildly surprised to see he was in his flat.

The suit of armor loomed, axe raised, as Link remained rooted in the spot. He wanted to move, wanted to scream, wanted to close his eyes, but all functions were wrested from his grasp.

He had to warn his Gramps. He couldn’t get the air in his lungs to cry out.

Breathe! Breathe! BREATHE!

He could hear his breathing, rasping and heavy, but couldn’t work his throat.

Need to warn Gramps! Need to call him! FUCK! GRAMPS!

Shining silver crescent of the blade was all he could see. It wouldn’t stop until it had the emerald back.

A sharp jerk awoke the twitching teen, the warning cry thick on his tongue. His lungs labored to drag in air in quick gasps, blue eyes scanning the area nervously. Twilight woven from pinks, oranges, and purples gave the car weak light from the open door. The contents of the dreams sifted from his mind, burned away by the setting sun. A vague sense of unease remained in its wake, causing the gangly teen to tuck his body against the cask more firmly and pull the dirty rags close.

The magic armor had never quite left his mind and the emotions it invoked were confusing. He’d tried to convince himself that it’d never happened, but his mind conjured the images in his weakness. He was afraid to encounter another at Malo’s.

—“The ruby is on the scepter in the high Malo president’s private office.”

Link nodded, staring at the floor plans before him. He traced out a route with his finger, only half paying attention to Gramp’s words.

“How big is the ruby?” He murmured, eyes flicking over the map to the factory yards. It was to the southeast and would take a train to get to. God forbid it’s the same damn size as that blasted emerald.

“Bigger then yer fist…” Gramps murmured, eyes searching something far away and missing the wince from his grandson. He focused on the now neutral face of the young thief. “Shaped different, though.”

“That’s a relief.” He replied in a soft, caustic tone. “Wouldn’t want it to be the exact same.”

“Oh, quiet! A little variety never hurt anyone.” Gramps chided with a gape toothed grin, guffawing at Link’s unimpressed scowl.—

Coughs and wheezes flared periodically from the other illegal riders. Link had joined the other freeloaders in the near empty car destined for the yards. A movement in the corner of his eye and he jerked his head over, hand poised over a popular area to hide a dagger.

“Keep them twitchers to yerself, or I’ll relieve ya of ‘em and yer peepers fer my trouble!” Link growled just above a murmur through teeth bared in challenge.

The crafty eyed bindle took heed of the threat and backed from the teen.

“Easy buck…Jus’ wanted ta make sure ya wuz alrigh’.” The dirty beggar soothed in an oily voice that dripped with pacifying lies. He raised his grimy hands in peace, looking like a pile of dirty rags as he backed away.

And Gramps wondered why I didn’t want him coming with me. The thief thought bitterly, not liking the thought of his grandfather being accosted by the freeloaders that shared the car.

The blue-eyed thief settled, but his eyes were narrowed and hard. His brief disorientation had invited would be attacker. How long had the bindle worked towards him in his sleep? Weakness was dangerous in a situation such as this. He had no dagger, but no one would be willing to risk being lamed in order to test the warning.

He didn’t look worth the effort being as weak and underfed in appearance and rags no better than theirs draped over his body. Soot stood out over his pale skin like bruises, his black hair greasy and wild. As average as any mudlark that had grown up in the Lower Levels or in whatever equated in their own original sets.

The long-eared boy was so tired of the never-ending battle in the Wards. Walltulas, Skulltulas, and the average human threats dwelled there, making a struggle for food, shelter and rupees.

Now drinking water was becoming scarce as a draught began to settle in.

He wanted his Grandfather’s final days to be ones of comfort. Life was nasty and rough down there. No matter how much spit and vigor the old man held claim to, Link knew his time was drawing near.

The teen was too young for honest work. He would make a decent roué if he cleaned up and had half a mind for it. Women were drawn to the blue of his eyes that varied in shades, from the azure of clear skies that no longer existed to the deep navy of expensive glass that would never grace the Lower Levels. His empathetic nature and easy smiles added to the allure of coltish teen. However, selling his body didn’t appeal to the thief at all.

The Provost’s Guard wouldn’t take him till he reached sixteen and, in the words of his Gramps, he was too tender hearted to not break under the stress. There was only so much a law enforcer could achieve. All the child stealing, slavery rings, murders and rapes that went unsolved would weigh on his soul.

Lower mudlarks were no longer trusted to run messages. Not after the gang that had used the message running to set up hits. Once their ring had been broken, so were most legit possibilities beyond back breaking labor.

Thievery may chafe the teen’s spirit, but his grandfather made it a necessary evil. To keep his family alive he would do damn near anything.
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The factory yards were sprawling and just as unattractive as the pipe riddled Lower Levels. Of course, the yards had an official name but no one referred to it as Trohston any more. Everything from electricity (fueled by steam from coal) to widgets were crafted and distributed from the pollution discharging eyesores against olive tainted clouds cloaking the sky.

Spires pierced the sky, often accompanied by great stacks that belched soot laced haze constantly. Unnaturally colored fires burned crowned tall columns. Cables and lines traces through the sky, giving power to the sprawling cities that could afford it. Even in the weak subdued light, Link could see the soot and rust staining the metal in thick lines.

Unlike the bowl-like city of Kakariko, Trohston wasn’t built on layers. It sprawled out over the flat land with entwining streets leading around each factory. There was a living quarter, unnamed to Link’s knowledge since it didn’t aid in the job, and the Barterluck Lane connected the North and South border.

Since Barterluck was connected to everything one way or another, Link was traveling down the sidewalk at a lazy clip. He’d cleaned his face and ditched his gutter garb where he could reclaim it for the ride back. The faded jade canvas coveralls were a size too large, the cotton webbed belt loose around his waist. The tattered cuffs dragged against the brick street, his stolen working boots scarred and gray instead of black.

A sweaty handkerchief was rolled and tied across his forehead, hands tucked in his pockets as he ambled through the throng of off duty workers, blending perfectly. Link’s young age wasn’t even worth noticing since a pair of boys barely ten years and covered in soot from the coalmines trudged by. Factories seemed to thrive from the pre-pubescent workers; their smaller bodies and hands doing jobs that were harder for adults.

He ignored the hawkers and the scent of toasting gutter rat choking the air. His belly did make demands for the skewered rodent and bird, but knowing that it would leave his bowels protesting the greasy flesh later, he decided against it.

“You, lad!” A voice cut over the crowd. Link ignored it, mind playing over the turns he would have to take to reach Malo Enterprise. “You there!”

The back of his neck pickled and the air seemed to press against his shoulders, warning of someone getting too close. Link turned and sidestepped enough to avoid any grasping hand. He could have jerked away completely, but he didn’t want to give away too much. A factory worker wouldn’t be so quick and aware of his surroundings a thief. That and his baton rested along his spine and the lock pick containing bracers hidden by the sleeves, the cuffs buttoned tightly around his wrists.

“You look like a lad ready to change the world!” The stranger proclaimed with a pointing finger. Men walking around the market paused to stare, bemused as Link gaped at the slightly taller man. There was a strange clockwork contraction hugging the right side of his head and over his left eye. The lens zoomed in and out randomly; the hissing, whirling click of the machinery could be heard over the murmuring crowd. The uncovered eye was a deep green and flickering with humor.

“Haa?” He articulately asked, trying to subtly back away. The man was dressed in a gold embroidered black vest with a full-sleeved white cotton undershirt and bowtie around his stiff collar. The pants were black leather and expensive with brass buttons along the side of both calves and good black boots. The long-eared teen noted the strange weapon holstered on the right hip, wooden inlays over a steel skeleton with small barrels attached to the belt.

“Together, lad! We can change the world together!” He leaned close and Link pulled his face away, noticing that the unruly curls were so brown they were almost black, shot with tiny strands of silver at the part. “Have you heard of….electricity?”

The stranger said it with such reverence and secrecy that Link was confounded for a moment.

“The Power Plant is just—“ Link began, pointing vaguely in the direction.

“Do you even now how it’s created?” The man interrupted, slapping his hands onto the shorter teen’s shoulders and leaning close to the face as if to stress his point. His breathe, the blue-eyed teen couldn’t help but notice, reeked of liquor.

“Actually, the coal is used to—“ Link stared, jerking from the man’s touch as his temper began to boil.

“Look what it does to our environment! The burning rain and thick air!” The man play sniffed, wiping a finger under his eye. Sadly, the thief didn’t stay long enough to enjoy the performance, already turning and trying to meld back into the crowd. “Ah! Boy!”

The blue-eyed teen walked faster, but the older man caught up and started to walk quickly beside him. The thief never had a twitch before but he could feel one developing.

“You’re sharp, boy! Together we can create clean energy! Then we won’t have to worry about the monopoly on the unexplainable electricity everyone preaches—”

“Electricity isn’t unexplainable.” Link snapped, directing a bothered glare up at the taller man. “You make it sound like magic.”

The stranger gave the shorter lad a bemused glance. “You don’t believe in magic?”

Link snorted to show his opinion before stating blandly, “It doesn’t exist.”

“Together we can make magic, my friend! Come, be my apprentice! Professor Chris Houlihan and, what’s your name, lad?”

“I’m not your friend and I’ll not join you. I have WORK. I’m sure the concept is lost to you.” Link informed him coldly, eyes glittering like ice. Houlihan pulled back from the subtle warning and watched the bristling teen integrate into the crowd.
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Link panted in the middle of the trashed office. He’d walked in slightly worried at the sight of twin suits of armor with huge axes standing across from one another. His fear had been foolish for neither attacked as he began the search.

He’d opened every wall safe, drawer and broken every pot and came up empty. Even the ceramic rupee piggy bank was in pieces, more from frustration than actually searching. The only thing he’d found there had been a handful of flowers, which only confused and enraged the thief.

“Nothing, nothing, nothing!” He growled, fists tight at his sides. “One hundred and fifty-four rupees and three flowers is all I get for my trouble! There’re not even nice flowers…”

Link dropped into the tailor seat and held his head in his hands. Where the hell was the scepter? The company president had to be tipped off somehow. Who would make the connection between the jewels as Gramps had? They obviously think they can stop me with this.

The thin face hardened and he lifted his head. No way in hell would he just let this go. He was going to find that damn stone if he had to kill someone.
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The thief walked through the busy Barterluck traffic, clad in stolen non-descript breeches, the same scarred boots, and a long sleeved white shirt laced to his throat. The noon sky only filtered gray tainted yellow light into the street, not doing much for the teen’s somber mood.

He’d left the office in good order, only taking off with the pot and piggy shards to remove the evidence of his tampering. Losing his temper last night had probably given away his presence.

Now the company president will know his fears were well based. Damnit! I’d like to find the fucker who tipped him off! I’ll give him something for his troubles he wouldn’t forget! He thought crossly and then sighed as his rage melted away. Aw, well, nothing to be done about it now. If I get too worked up, I’ll just bungle the damn job more.

He’d spent the remainder of the night curled on a lonely catwalk in the Wellon’s Widgets, contemplating how he was going to find out where the damn scepter was hidden. His grandfather’s words running through his mind:

—“People always gab like fools, Hero. Go to the market and just listen. People always wanna talk about new things, old things and odd things. Don’t dismiss any of it. Take it in. You can piece it all together an’ learn sommat.”—

He navigated the stream of humanity with a quiet comfort. It was remarkably like Mido District, only the clothing and scenery altered subtly. Conversations flowed easily and the long ears twitched slightly as they filtered through the throng of noise.

“The bitch was with Jasper!” “I don’t want to work this God’s Day! You’d think—” “The weather is god—” “My wife wants me to—” “Can you believe—” “Cursed hard to care when—”

“I heard Malo’s was broken into…” Link suppressed a wince at the last comment. He really had been an idiot to let his emotions rule him. It’d been one of the first lessons his Gramps had beat into his head; never act out of anger on a job. If things don’t go your way, then you take a step back and figure out how to manipulate them until they did.

The gossip about his unsuccessful robbery circulated easily and Link ignored them easily. He bought a tart apple turnover with his stolen rupees, nibbling on it thoughtfully as he continued to stroll. The talk was random and less than helpful. All he could piece was that life was dreary here and women here whooped their men. That and a thief broke into Malo’s. Soon he’d have to start scouting out factories and looking for increased security and such.

That would take precious time that the teen didn’t want to spend. The yard sprawled over countless acres. He would spend days in the hellhole. This place was no better than the Wards. He was careful to avoid the obvious thieves and enforcers that milled in front of the wealthier shops.

“I’ve been hired to walk the Sakon yards for the next few nights—”

The teen paused and backtracked, pretending to inspect a stand with withered fruit.

“Sakon Inc? They’re small time! Why are you getting work there?” A factory worker scuffed, his uniform announcing his employment to Sharp and Flat Corps. The man he spoke to was a burly enforcer with nasty sword scars over his face and hands. “Make sure they can pay you!”

“They just got bought out by Malo Enterprises.” He yawned and Link picked up an apple, pretending to have trouble deciding between it and a pear. “Gorman (it took a moment for Link to remember that to be Malo’s president) is paranoid about something, or that’s what I heard. Beefing up security. Who am I to complain? Fattens my purse. Though the late nights bite.”

“Gorman’s a dumbass. What’s he trying to do? Invite a thief to try to find out what he’s hiding?” The worker snickered as Link exchanged rupees for a pear and drifted away from the pair.

So, I need to find Sakon Inc. Would it be in the yards or the building? The teen wondered idly, gnawing on the tough fruit and rolling the sandy flesh around his tongue. This is where I need Gramps. He was much better than I at this.
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Link slipped into the main office of Sakon Inc. It’d been easier slipping passed all of the enforcers milling about the yard and through the hallways. They weren’t trained to be anything but hired muscle to catch thieves in the middle of lifting, not sneak thieves.

It hadn’t been too hard to figure out that the scepter wasn’t anywhere outside. The hired men clustered around the Chief Office (or so the sign over the front door claimed), looking bored and not really paying attention.

At first the long-eared teen contemplated on the man, Gorman, was trying to divert attention from the main factory over the eight foot chain link fence. After a few moments, he decided he was giving him too much credit. He snuck onto the roof and found an open window for the head secretary’s office for his pains.

The lock was simple to pick and closed just as silently. There were no windows, but a skylight that poured insipid moonlight onto the concrete floor. The office was relatively bare compared to the main office at Malo.

The desk wasn’t very impressive; it didn’t even have much in the way of drawers. It was cheap aluminum and Link could tell that there were no secret compartments after a quick inspection. The thief propped his fingerless gloved fists on his hips, clad in the dark green coveralls and face covered with the black scarf.

Where would the idgit hide the damn scepter? He mused as he paced past the pictures lining the wall slowly, eyes scanning them carefully. It better be in this office. If I have to spend one more day in this blasted town, I’ll make that man sorry as hell.

The gangly teen paused before a large portrait of strange round, rocky creatures. They were crushed against each other in a fierce embrace, legs obviously stressed in as they struggled to push the other away. It was…interesting and Link tried to shift the heavy frame and was rewarded when it opened to reveal a wall safe.

“Well, hello, hello.” The blue-eyed thief grinned and settled his ear as he turned the dial. Shoddy safe that it was, Link had it open after a few heartbeats. He hummed softly beneath his breath, swinging the vault door open.

The two foot long scepter lay in the bed of blue velvet. The silver light shimmered over the golden rod, the inlay giving the impression of flames circling up to cradle the ruby shaped as a three-tongued flame.

He traced the sensitive pads of his fingers over the gold reverently. It sang beneath his fingertips, his vision hazing over.

A rumbling roar filled his ears, heat making his skin crisp slightly.

A serpent-like dragon with scales the shifting color of scarlet and orange. It spewed liquid flame from its gaping jaws, twisting and tangling wildly in the air.

A crying rocky creature sat before him, heartbreaking in his misery.

A jarring thud, he slammed bodily against a rocky creature, feeling as if he were trying to move the mountain.

Whispers of heat, heart-felt friendship, hollow caverns echoing with gravely chatter.

A man wrapped better than a thief, gold hair peeking from the bandaging and a strange weeping eye symbol on his breast taking slow steps backward.

A crack and blinding white flash.

Link blinked and swayed slightly, his head light and spinning. The images swirled and dissipated like smoke, leaving him feeling surprisingly serene. He shook his head, clearing his sight and attempting to put his mind back on track. Befuddled, the thief grabbed the cold scepter and pulled it from the safe. He grabbed the stone and shut his eyes just as the predicted flare of ruby light.

A crash, metallic thud, dull gravely crunch and tinkling glass hitting cement made the teen’s stomach clench in dread. Whirling, clicking, and clacking of gears and springs filling the air was causing a fine film of nervous sweat to break over the long-eared teen’s skin.

He turned, holding the scepter in a two handed grip. Another suit of armor knelt before him, a spiked ball and chain loose in the gauntlet grip.

“You’ve got to be joking.” He whispered, face pale and strained. He popped the ruby free with a savage twist, stuffing it down the front of his coveralls. There’d be no chucking this jewel like an idiot. He held the scepter in one hand and freed his baton with the other.

The armor straightened threateningly, groaning and scrapping, to an intimidating seven feet. A faint crimson crest of the spread eagle scrolled across the chest plate, barely visible in the gloom. The chain rattled and hissed against the floor, ominous to the thief’s ears. The huge spiked ball had cratered into the concrete. It hefted the weapon effortlessly, swinging it around the red horsetail-plumed helm. It whooshed, the air rushing against the thief’s face.

Link dodged the first shot, watching the heavy ball pulverize the safe beneath its bulk. He scrambled over the chain and dashed in for a strike as it reeled back in the ball. He slammed the helm with his forearm re-enforced with the baton. It clanged and jarred his shoulder badly, but the helm was crushed like a tin can under the blow.

Weak light revealed the clockwork within and the blue-eyed teen wanted to faint with relief. It wasn’t magical. Its movement was explainable and easily taken care of…as long as he didn’t lose his head in the process.

He rolled away as the armor took a wild swing to bash him to pulp. The chain snaked out when he stopped in a crouch, the thief jerking to the side just as the weighted end whizzed by his ear.

The clockwork knight spun the ball in one hand and the chain in the other. Link panted as it advanced slowly. He could hear shouts from behind the office door, the rattling of someone trying to force it open.

I don’t remember locking it!He thought giddily, evading the soaring ball and darting forward. I don’t remember Gramps mentioning another set of armor, either! Where do they get these things? Are they breeding? Is there a damn farm somewhere?

He ducked under the chain, an arm swung out and he bent backwards and watched it pass his nose. Swinging up, he jammed the scepter into the crotch, feeling it grind into the gears controlling its legs. He scuttled from beneath the legs, the currents from the spinning chain disturbing his dirty hair.

The air rushed from his lungs a moment before the pain registered in the teen’s panicked mind. A blow from the iron fist gave him a chance to fly, the gangly teen landing roughly on the well-positioned overstuffed couch. The furniture collapsed with the sudden influx of weight and Link rolled off as the spiked ball followed his path to demolish what was left of it.

Link gasped madly, crawling like an animal to avoid flying bits of couch frame. It didn’t escape his attention that the knight was still in place, but the torso could swivel easily in circles to follow his movements. It’d reeled in the ball and chain, already swinging it and preparing to aim.

How the hell am I gonna stop this thing? It’s a damned pain! Link thought before catching sight of the cheap desk. I’m retiring! Retiring! I’m running away to Darunia Mountain and live as a hermit!

He leapt on top of the desk, skittering over the other side and scuttling to his hands and knees. The whirling whoosh sound became a whistle and Link threw himself from behind the fixture as the spiked ball connected with the metal desk and collapsed it. The frame snapped and broke, the sturdier pieces becoming deadly missiles as they exploded from the impact.

The teen’s blood was running hot and his ears rang with the clash of steel on steel. He jammed the baton back down his back and yanked two steel rods from the plaster wall. Bracing himself, the thief rushed forward in a crouch, eyes narrowed as his mind flitted from idea to idea like a nervous bird.

The armor seemed the guess the teen’s intentions and switched from the pulverizing ball to the weighted end. The chain soared forward and the unnerved thief threw the heavy steel bar in its path.

It didn’t stop the chain, but it did knock it off course enough to no longer be an immediate threat. Link did a roll to the side, hooking his arm around an immobile leg and scaled the torso. The armor spun wildly, trying to swing the squirrelly teen from his body. The thief held on for dear life, face set and eyes squeezed shut as he ignored his roiling stomach. If the armor kept it up much longer, he was going to hurl and they’d both be a fine mess.

Ignoring the wind roaring in his ears, he shimmied up the rotating torso enough to catch his arm around the crumpled helm. A gauntlet swung up and the torso quit moving. The sudden stop was just as disorienting as the movement. He felt the fingers fist into his coveralls. He took a deep breath and jammed the remaining bar into the delicate clockwork.

The body shuddered and he was yanked up, but not sent flying. He hung from the halted armor’s grip like a rag doll. He could hear springs bursting and gears groaning till they snapped under the strain.

Wheezing frantically, the wide-eyed teen watched the armor for any hint of movement. He would have taken time to ensure that it was finally dead, but the sounds of angry men on the other side of the door prevented it.

The thief kicked his legs until he gained purchase on the broad shoulders. He wiggled and finally had to tear the coveralls to free himself from the rigid grip. He didn’t bother with the leftover cloth.

He was only a foot below the busted skylight. Sweat began to glide down his temple as he freed his baton and knocked the loose glass from the frame. Glad that the thick leather on the gloves would protect his hands, he grasped the edge of the frame and hauled his body up. He swung up, legs catching on the gravel covered roof.

He was completely on the roof when the door splintered under the battering of the enforcers. Link was already halfway across the roof as they took in the bewildering scene before them.

Due to the heightened security, the jittery thief took the long way out of the yards and into another. He ran through the maze of factories, high on adrenaline. Getting back to that train stop was first and foremost on his to do list.

The train’ll leave in the morning. Damnit all to hell! I don’t wanna travel with this gaudy thing on my chest with all those bindles! Link groused, nervous sweat soaking his coveralls.

His back would be one big bruise by the time morning arrived to the smog filled city.

Next job is the last…I’ve barely hit puberty and I’ve already had two near death experiences!
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A/N — I wanted to write more, but what I’m planning can be picked up in the next chapter. ^-^

Jackalman - I enjoyed the review quite a bit! I know I’m spitting out a lot of Zelda names, but they’re just easier to use. That and the game do it too, so nyah! ^-^ (JK) I’m going to slowly wean myself from them, but I’m going to try to use some of the less common ones so no one notices as readily.
It took me foreverto figure out how to do italics. I'll fix the first chapter soon. lol I think everyone was confused reading it while I was experimenting (Holy crap! The entire story is italics!)