CHAPTER 45: THE POWER OF COURAGE
Lightning flashed and spread an ominous shadow over the fields of Eldin. Then came the pouring rain, churning the dirt, sweat, and blood into a brew of muck. The rain created a hanging mist that washed over the battlefield, and the slight winds carried it like wraiths trying desperately to cling to life.
A high screech sounded, reverberating with a metallic noise. Zant, King of Shadows, drove one of his curved blades full through the armor of a Hylian knight, and just as another slashed out at his back, a shadow beast wrapped its claws around the knight. It choked the life from him, pouring darkness into his soul as all warmth left his body. When the knight hung limp in its grasp, it tossed the corpse away like a broken toy.
Then a raging war cry clapped through the air, and the steel of Ashei’s blade met solidly against the white edge of Zant’s weapon before it could kill another young soldier. He growled like a child against her defense, bringing down his second blade as he danced wildly about her. This attack failed as well, though, for the Hylian general caught Zant’s blade and pushed him back with the full might of his broad shoulders. Zant nearly tripped as he stumbled backward.
Ashei sent a quick nod of thanks to the general and they gathered in close with three other soldiers to prepare for the next assault. Ashei gripped her broadsword tightly in her double-handed grip, sweat pouring from her dark-haired brow.
Zant hissed like the animal he was, and all at once the helmet protecting his head clicked away to reveal his sickly skin and the harsh yellow pupils of his glowing orange eyes. His coif fell to his nape and red hair tumbled around his grotesque features, ravaged by hatred and despair … and death. He was a vessel of pure hate now, bent to every whim of Ganondorf, bound by the grace of his power. Finally and truthfully, nothing more than a wild and ravenous animal. His hiss turned into a growl behind his crooked teeth, and his angry cry sounded more like a snapping bark.
With his entourage of shadow beasts, he charged into the circle of Hylians and sunk his blades in for the kill.
Just as a shadow beast leapt for the soldier on the outside of their gathering, a horse swooped by, its rider knocking it back with a spiked mace. Ashei had no room to glance away from her battle with the usurper king, or she would have recognized the blacksmith of Ordon immediately.
Rusl did not stop to help further; he raced on toward another group of Hylians struggling against a dark knight. He brought his feet up onto the saddle of his borrowed steed and steadied himself as he aligned his ride. Once he drew close, he leapt from his mount, unsheathing the blade resting at his hip, and landed directly atop its giant shoulder. Before the knight could respond to the new threat, Rusl had leapt again, driving his sword through its spine right where its heart would have been. Its sword arm flailed as it collapsed into rubble, and the surrounding soldiers jumped away or threw up shields in protection.
With the knight defeated, Rusl quickly gazed across the line of Hylian soldiers and saw none wounded. His deed done he turned to locate his horse, finding it trampling bulblins as it raced off. A grim smile lit his lips at that, but it was erased when he took notice of a wounded Hylian standing before a crumpled horse, spear through its neck. The soldier held his arm tightly across his chest as he battled solely against a shadow beast and two bokoblins.
Rusl dashed across the field, hacking through one enemy after the next as they sprouted in his path. By the time he had reached the battle, the knight had tripped over one of his horse’s legs, sword dislodged from his grasp. The knight scrambled vainly to reach his fallen blade, for just as his fingers touched the guard, the shadow beast had plucked him up, hissing its ballad of twilit vulgarity.
The knight struggled in its grasp and kicked out at the bokoblin that approached with jagged sword raised. Just as he thought he might die, blood splattered against his face. He thought it his end, but when he looked down in the absence of pain, he realized a blade had pierced through the shadow beast’s chest from its backside. Its dying shriek echoed across the plain as it dropped him to his knees.
The knight grabbed his blade and swung it around to attack the bokoblins, but once he reared back, he stopped at the sight of Rusl, member of the Resistance. The two bokoblins lay dead at his feet, as he extended a hand to calm the knight, who cringed at the renewed jolt of pain searing the inside of his shoulder. It was no ordinary wound, for he had been one of few to survive the onslaught of the sage-blade.
Rusl knelt down to the knight as he leaned back against the body of his horse. Sweat drenched his sandy hair, rippling through the bloodstains of the shadow beast. Rusl had only meant to check that the knight would live, but as he called for the nearby Shad to render assistance, the knight clutched his arm tight, pulling him in.
“P--Princess…. The prin…” he tried through his heaving breaths and the intense pain.
A wave of alarm struck Rusl as he scanned the battlefield. He saw the princess nowhere. Nor could he find Link and Epona. A sick feeling grasped at his navel, and a fear crept into him, one whispering that he would find Link broken at the edge of the world.
He awoke to his surroundings once more at a sudden shriek from Shad. Rusl turned, finding that Shad had fallen in a heap under the might of a towering shadow beast. Its tentacles whipped and rippled as it skittered toward Shad, hungering for Hylian flesh, thirsting for revenge against the light.
The blacksmith launched himself at the beast in the same moment that a spear shot sidelong through its head. It collapsed immediately without another breath.
Rusl and Shad turned their attention to the man bounding for them on horseback, the white of its mane mirroring the beard of its rider. Auru.
The old man drew up beside them, bending over just slightly to reclaim his spear.
“I say … f-fantastic shot,” cheered Shad, trying desperately to keep the shock from his voice. He pushed his cracked spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose, struggling to act as at peace among the battle as Rusl and Auru.
“Have you seen Link?” interjected Rusl quickly.
“With the princess, last I saw,” he replied, continually examining their immediate surroundings for danger.
His response did little to ease Rusl’s discomfort, but he was forced to keep his mind in the moment. Protecting Shad and the wounded Hylian was his direct priority. Auru acknowledged the injured soldier and directed Rusl’s attention to a cluster of Hylians nearby, where those who had been lying injured within Telma’s bar had been transported, lying helpless as two full units of knights--as well as the ferocious Telma--fought off the hordes.
Rusl ordered Shad to help the wounded knight to his feet, and the young scholar did so without question, trying his best to console the moaning knight as he took his arm over his shoulders. They hobbled along as Rusl defended them, and Auru sped away in the attempt to clear a path.
They met the howling war cries of Telma as she and the knight alongside her cut through bulblin after bokoblin. Auru’s mount trampled over several of the oncoming swarm, as he used his spear like a sword, smacking its sharp point and blunt end into target after target in a whirl of endless motion.
Auru drew is horse up at the front of the guard once the nearby enemies had been dispatched. Behind him, Shad guided the wounded Hylian into the camp of the wounded. The civilians who had also been transported to the field were gathered here, most answering the need for nurses, tending to the hurts of the soldiers who continued to gather within the shrine of defending knights.
“How you holding up, honey?” Telma called back to Shad as he left the knight to the nurses and drew up beside her, arms numb from having borne the soldier’s weight. He gave her a cringing nod and brought up his sword again, nearly screaming as he attacked a charging bokoblin on sheer reflex. It had not killed the monster, but he had left it staggering enough for Telma to finish the job. Shad’s sudden reaction to the threat bolstered his courage and a small, unsure smile replaced his creased brows.
A golden flutter in the far distance drew Auru’s attention after dispatching another foe, and he realized it was the golden head and white shimmer of Princess Zelda. She had been struggling with her horse’s reins, racing toward him, but then she reared high, turning her mount, the great crimson Epona. At once, she was away, hugging close to Epona as they raced through the hordes to the right. The motion happened in the snap of a finger, but when Auru had seen his princess rising high above the masses, time had seemed to slow, and relief had flooded him as his vigor was renewed.
Yet, just as he had recognized her face, a sudden terror wrenched at his heart.
Link was no longer with her. Epona was his mount, and Auru had seen the three of them bolt off together, unified.
He looked for the telltale color of his green tunic among the multitudes. He could not find him, which frightened him, but not nearly as much as the terror that struck him in the following moment. When he followed Princess Zelda’s line of sight, followed the direction of her racing horse … he found Link … lying unmoving in the muck and mist that shrouded him and the ominous black giant stepping nearer and nearer to the hero with every quaking heartbeat of Auru.
In his reigning stupor, Auru did not see the roaring bokoblin closing in. His horse tossed and kicked at the foe, and he struggled to remain aloft. By the time he realized what was happening, Rusl had already gutted the enemy. Auru’s thanks was silent in eyes alight with terror, Rusl could see, and he followed his stare when Auru returned his sight to the distant Link.
Rusl gasped, fear strangling his words, like the fright a father felt at the brink of watching his son die. In the moment he called for a horse, Auru had fought past his fears and come alive again. As Rusl mounted the armored horse drawn up to him, Auru bellowed, waving his spear in the direction of Princess Zelda’s rocketing figure. His horse reared and then took off like fire on a dry plain, and Rusl followed close behind.
As the pair sped across the battlefield, their cries rallied several more horseback knights who sped alongside their flanks, weapons raised for the charge.
Far ahead of her knights, Princess Zelda panted as Epona galloped at full speed. Her breath caught in a gasp as a dark knight tumbled over in their path, but Epona reacted swiftly and bounded over the obstacle with ease. Zelda held fast and close, trusting that Epona would reach her master in time.
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The voracious glee humming within Ganondorf sprung into a laugh as he looked down on the stumbling figure of the boy so many had come to call Hero. But this boy was no hero. He was a lost child fumbling and grasping for meaning, trying desperately to accept the fate which had been so cruelly cast upon him by his gods. It was by some prank that they had chosen this pathetic, small animal in whom to house their power … that they would guide him on a quest to face him here at last. The joke made him laugh in the face of Link and his gods.
He would crush him so completely, shatter his unbreakable spirit into so many shards, that the legends to follow his reign hundreds of years later would remember no fragment of this boy’s existence. History was written by those victorious, and he would cut Link from every corner of Hyrule. After this day no one would dare speak his name.
The boy from the forest. The warrior in green. It all reminded him of the boy’s ancestor, that same small child, so feeble, without the strength to even hold a proper sword, he imagined…. The same blue eyes that had defied him so long ago. When Ganondorf looked into those eyes, it was years ago, and he saw that little boy again, staring at him from behind a young princess and her glorious sages and knights who had subdued him.
How he cursed that day.
He had held onto that hatred even in the void of Twilight. He breathed because of the vengeance filling his veins, brimming in his bones. It was the fiber of his existence.
The coming dawn would give rise to his reign, his ultimate majesty.
When Link gazed up at the approaching figure of Ganondorf, his eyes still felt hazy. He bit back the pain through gritted teeth. Shoulder quaking, head throbbing, he had to stand, had to gather his wits … but no matter how hard he tried, he could not bring himself to rise.
His struggle brought new fuel to the demon’s callous chuckle, and he charged at Link, two hands fisted around the hilt of the sage-blade.
The sudden movement dazed Link in the same moment that it brought his eyes into focus. He scurried to raise the Master Sword … but realized it was no longer in his grasp. Quickly, he plucked up two blades dropped by felled Hylian knights and lifted them to defend against Ganondorf’s downward thrust … just as it would have struck his skull. But the blades were no match against the blade of the sages, and it sliced through their steel like butter. Link barely had time to duck in order to avoid the shrieking magical metal of Ganondorf’s sword.
That was proof enough. If he was to have any chance at defeating Ganondorf once and for all, he required the blade of evil’s bane, the sword of the legendary hero.
Before he could move to defend himself, Ganondorf had drawn himself up to his full height over him and gave a swift and forceful kick. The hit landed in Link’s gut and sent him flying to the ground again meters away. The brutal blow gagged him and he coughed a string of vomit, holding his stomach as he gasped for air.
Link struggled to his knees, head lowered from the pain.
When Ganondorf spoke, Link could hear the snarl written across his face, feel the laughter in his tone, the victory. “See how Hyrule’s hero bows before me.”
Link raised his sapphire eyes against the thunder and pelting rain and found the yellow shimmer of Ganondorf. “Never,” the hero said. “Hyrule will never bow to your reign.”
The confident rebellion in his eyes angered Ganondorf, and Link could see it in his shadowed eyes. The demon’s once fine red hair hung in tangled spikes and curls around his head; some were even frayed from where the Dark Beast’s mane had been set ablaze. This king, with his ruffled hair, soiled armor, and fraying cape, now truly looked like the demon Link had first expected to encounter.
Link spotted the glint of the Master Sword to his left and immediately raced over to seize it. Ganondorf did nothing to stop him, merely let loose new laughter as he took a careful and slow step forward. Link held up the sword as he waited, stooped low with feet constantly shifting his weight.
“An impressive-looking blade…” bellowed Ganondorf. His humming laughter then immediately died. “But nothing more.” He glowered down at Link, so small compared to his great height. “Would you hear my desire?” he asked with the hint of a grin, and he brandished the sage-blade before him as streaks of lightning silhouetted his frame with a clap of thunder. “I will take this foul blade and use it to blot out the light forever.”
He was not sure, but Link thought that his words carried a subtext that also meant the suffocation of his light and life … and any other like him who would oppose his reign. And the demon would use the very blade that had executed him, the very weapon that had sealed his fate and brought him back into the world with a power beyond everything else. The sage-blade had birthed him anew.
Ganondorf approached him then with slow, calculated steps. Link held his ground, held his stance, waiting for the attack.
Then, from behind Ganondorf, Link spotted the figure of Zelda racing toward him astride Epona, and his spirits lifted at the sight. She held up the bow once more, ready to aim another powerful attack at the demon king. Ganondorf noticed this, however, could read the renewed hope in Link’s eyes and the reflection of Zelda’s light within their shimmer, and he grinned. With a flick of his hand, an orange barrier flickered to life, enshrining Link and he within its large circle.
Only the two of them.
The power of his magic caused a massive shockwave to blast outward from its border, knocking every soul to the ground. Epona reared and shrieked as the wave of energy overpowered her and sent her reeling to the ground. Zelda, too, screamed as she sailed from the saddle and landed hard against the wet ground. Grunting, she dug her silk hands--now stained with layers of mud and blood--into the ground and pushed herself up. The bow had flown from her grasp, and she could not find it.
The weapon would have done her little good, though, for when she turned back to face Ganondorf and Link, she saw Hylians already charging the barrier and being flung back again by its cruel magic. She threw up an arm to shield her eyes from the flare of orange light that coursed through them, and she thought surely they had perished.
“Princess!” she heard, and she tossed her gaze about. Suddenly, she was ducking back down into the grime to avoid the wide swing of a dark knight, but just as soon did it crumble to the ground, tossing up the dirty brew beneath.
Zelda rose to meet the face of her general, broadsword still at the ready. Alongside him came the familiar face of her childhood tutor, Auru. She had not seen his wrinkled face in years, and she found comfort in his kind eyes, eyes that had always twinkled with genuine care for his princess. He had been knocked from his mount as well, and instead of waiting to right the creature, he had closed the remaining distance between Zelda and him with a sprint. She grasped his forearm firmly, as if looking for guidance once more from his gentle eyes.
It pained Auru that he had no counsel for her save a hand that grasped hers in kind.
Then they saw the rush of movement flying past them. Rusl, who had reclaimed his seat upon his mount, bolted toward the barrier. His eyes were alight with panic as he trampled and bashed through the horde that rose between the barrier and him. He could hear and feel the hum that vibrated through the field from the magic, and he had seen the way it had smacked away the assailing Hylians with tendrils of light.
Princess Zelda did not wait for her entourage as she sped off in Rusl’s wake. The general called after her, and he, Auru, and the surrounding knights raced after her, forming a protective bubble around their young sovereign as she made her way toward the barrier.
She heard the resounding shrieks just as shadow beasts descended upon her. She stopped in her tracks and grabbed up a sword from the battlefield as her escorts halted and formed around her. Zelda held out the blade with a grim expression, and she met the beasts in battle, steel against claw. Her skirt and hair twirled about her small frame as she slashed through the leading beast, her knights engaging the surrounding shadows with matched ferocity. Seeing their princess in action, pressing the attack, bolstered their nerve, and when she yelped and collapsed, they only fought harder.
Auru and the general formed around the princess as she rose, still grasping her weapon, but now holding tightly to her arm as well. A beast had torn right through her pauldron and landed a nasty cut. She gritted her teeth at the pain and assured Auru that the wound was nothing.
As the general and one of her knights brought down a shadow beast, the piercing cry of the Twili usurper lit the air on fire. Its tone rang in their ears, staggering some, and suddenly, the shadows were retreating. The unprovoked withdrawal puzzled Zelda and her entourage as they searched for Zant, who they found standing opposite the barrier at the head of his still massive force of beasts, bublins, and bokoblins.
The general thought it a ruse, but as the seconds ticked by without assault and the stragglers of the shadow army retreated to join their comrades, he slowly let his sword hang low. Yet, he did not lower his guard entirely. Strangely, Zelda and the Hylian army came to understand their foe’s intent. At the will of his master, Zant would make them suffer, to watch as their hero fell at the might of his god.
The general’s voice rang strong throughout the battlefield, calling knights to drawn back and come into formation some distance from the barrier opposite the horde of shadows. He and Auru followed their princess as she bounded to the head of her army. She came alongside Rusl, who had dismounted his horse. Pain unlike any other filled his eyes, and Zelda, though she did not know his face, understood that his connection to Link was deep. Even the tender hand she placed on his arm could not turn his frown, and the princess’s sorrow deepened as she turned back to the image before her.
Helpless. She had never felt so powerless. No one could lift a finger to the terror within the barrier.
Keeping a close eye on his pacing enemy as well, Link had watched as the armies had formed around them. He had seen the barrier flick away the pressing knights, and he came face-to-face with the terror that had been welling in his bones since the sages had first told him of the King of Evil.
He had gotten what he had wanted. To face the demon king alone.
Even without Midna.
The thought of her rekindled the fire in his belly.
Ganondorf. Midna’s murderer.
When the demon king charged, the memory of Midna fueled Link’s legs and the barking cry that cracked louder than the thunder quaking against the surrounding canyons. Link leapt against Ganondorf’s attack, and Sage-Blade and Master Sword met in a dance of sparking light. Link clenched his teeth, using every ounce of his strength to command his flexing muscles. Ganondorf barely broke a sweat as he pressed his blade down, the Master Sword locked between the dual guards of his sword.
With a twist and burst of strength, Link threw Ganondorf from him, but the bulky king did not lose balance. He grinned.
Link backed away, donning his shield against his right forearm. He twirled the Master Sword, feeling its weight, its power, preparing himself for the grueling battle ahead of him.
His final hour.
Link studied the king’s slow, steady movements. He knew the dexterity of his small stature would be his saving grace against an enemy of sheer brute force. Beating Ganondorf to the offensive, Link raced back in, ducking under the sweeping horizontal attack the demon unleashed. He slashed upward, but the king was quick and very skilled. Ganondorf brought his blade back in for the parry, slapping away the Master Sword with ease, but Link did not despair. He thrust his blade, and Ganondorf caught it with the blunt side of his sword. Link sliced in a wide arc, and Ganondorf blocked it vertically, holding the blade within his opposite hand to secure it.
Even though none of his attacks pierced the king’s defense, Link learned as he fought. He understood the way he used his body in the brunt of his attacks, noticed the way he mostly used his elbow and shoulder without much movement in his wrist. His movements were slow because they were so carefully calculated, so patient.
Then the game changed after Ganondorf kicked out at Link. The Hylian dodged and thrust in again, only to find the king leaping up and over him. Link twisted about just in time to see him land and slash out at his toes. The swiftness of his movements and the weightlessness he had seemed to embody startled Link. He only just leapt back as Ganondorf’s blade chimed through the air.
Link brought his shield around as the king unleashed a series of attacks, deep thrusts and wide swings, all empowered by his broad shoulder. Link defended against each with his Hylian metal, each hit sending a numbing jolt that vibrated through his arm. He was nearly knocked to the ground again from the blow that followed, a jarring hit from his left elbow that knocked Link’s shield to the side. When Ganondorf whirled about and lunged his opposite arm forward with the glimmering sage-blade, Link barely had a window to knock it back with the Master Sword.
Ganondorf’s amused grin disintegrated into a growling frown as he took a step back, brandishing his blade to the side.
The Hylian hero took advantage of this retrograde and pressed the attack with several diagonal slices and a quick thrust at his middle. All his attacks were parried, however, and when Ganondorf caught the Master Sword against his blade on the last attack, he pushed back and swiped at the Hylian’s neck. Link dropped and rolled to the right to avoid the blow, and he popped up and readied his blade anew.
That was when he observed possibly the only advantage he would claim over this demon king.
With his sword tightly gripped in his right hand, Ganondorf was slow to cover his left flank. It was only a few seconds, but Link would take any window to his advantage. Link hid the realization from his eyes and his shifting body that itched to immediately use the vulnerability against the king.
He let the short seconds tick by for Ganondorf to draw up his attack again, and when Link dodged another horizontal slash, he feigned left. As Ganondorf’s blade cut down through the air with impossible speed, Link rolled back to the right. He drew up behind Ganondorf, leaping up with a mighty diagonal slice that tore through his cape and met the unguarded fabric on the side of his lower back.
A guttural howl broke through Ganondorf’s lungs as his back arched in response to the sudden sting. He swiveled quickly to discourage further attacks, and with his harsh eyes reflecting the vicious color of the surrounding lightning, he glared down at the boy.
The mists flitted through their battlefield as the rains came harder. The water helped to cleanse the wound on Link’s forehead, and he welcomed the relief. Yet, with the water turning patches of the ground to mud, he found it more difficult to keep sure footing. Link tested his weight as he mirrored Ganondorf’s movements, circling each other. It was not long until Link had adapted to the new battlefield. His body knew how to acclimatize to different landscapes, and he trusted his instincts.
Link saw the anger in Ganondorf abate once more, his frown transforming into a thin line of amusement. He was enjoying himself. The thought sent a prickle through Link’s arm, and he involuntarily found himself twirling his blade again.
Ganondorf watched the boy closely. Perhaps he had the courage to face him, and some skill with a blade, but none of it would be enough. He found pleasure in Link’s feeble struggle. It was entertaining to watch this small animal defy him, knowing that whatever strength the boy thought he had, Ganondorf would see his end.
He would enjoy this.
As Link scrutinized this demon’s every movement and the way he smiled even now, he finally understood. He understood why Ganondorf had erected the barrier, why the spectacle. It was not enough for Ganondorf to kill Link; he wanted to take his life before an audience, to rip away what little hope they had. He would destroy their spirit by destroying their hero … right before their every eye.
Link looked across the faces of the Hyrulean people … and saw that Ganondorf’s scheme was indeed taking effect. They saw Link’s struggle and feared for his failure.
A memory came back to him then, stronger than anything, and he could almost hear the boy speaking to him. “Everyone talks about you,” the voice told him. “Everyone says that … they wish they had your courage.”The thought of young Soal, so hopeful, renewed his drive. He remembered his promise, the vow to be Hryule’s sword and shield for as long as the people needed him.
“If my single life can save the lives of thousands….”That was the last thing he had said to Rusl, the man he owed so much. And he recalled his mentor’s proud words: “A hero is not defined only in battle. They also inspire. They bring hope of a new horizon. They return faith to faithless. You are a hero in every way. The courage of your heart is unmatched.”
This was what Ganondorf, and perhaps even the princess and her people, did not understand. Though they stared on, helpless, the very fact was that they stood. Here they had gathered … on this battlefield, to fight and defend home and family. A new horizon was approaching, though the rolling thunder and lightning fed on its rising sun. Everything Link had done, every evil he had banished, had been to bring together the people of Hyrule, to encourage their hearts to rise above their fears.
And so he had done.
Ganondorf may have thought the audience a distraction, but it only served to remind Link of every reason he had fought and bled for so long.
“This is not where your story will end.” Link clung to that hope when he twirled his blade anew and then held it firm. Every hope of Hyrule rested on the steel of his legendary blade, and that hope had been his constant companion all this time.
The demon king charged forward as he held his blade to the side in two strong fists. His cape flapped wildly behind his heavy, sloshing footfalls. The jubilant hunger in his eyes flashed like lightning, and his thunder came in a chuckling roar.
The hero waited until the last moment, body language fooling Ganondorf to believe the Hylian would stand his ground and parry. Yet, just as Link twisted his sword up to block the attack, he stole back his blade right before making contact, letting his hilt slide in his grasp in order to hold it backwards, and he sidestepped in a whirling dance that sent his blade lashing across the king’s left forearm.
Ganondorf reacted quickly when his saber hit unyielding, muddy soil. Using it to counterbalance his immense weight, he leaned and launched a violent kick at Link. The Hylian backed away, and as soon as his feet had settled, Ganondorf was upon him with a thrust, giving Link little time to hit it away.
Link had nearly lost his balance in the muck from that parry, the tip of the demon’s blade singing very close to his neck. He regained himself as he took quick, careful steps back and watched as Ganondorf followed in kind, closing the distancing with slow, pounding boots just as quickly as Link’s legs carried him backward.
The hero shifted then; as soon as Ganondorf had caught the pace of his backward footfalls, Link reversed and danced forward, skipping a step or two, launching forward with a thrust.
Yet, the demon reacted swiftly and easily batted away the Master Sword with the back of his empty fist. He unleashed a wide attack at Link’s feet, and the Hylian leapt away. Ganondorf rushed him then, bombarding Link with slash and thrust, repeatedly, one right after the other. The small Hylian wove his blade in and around the king’s attacks, their magical steel colliding in radiant sparks as they danced and spun.
The weight of Ganondorf’s attacks forced Link to give ground, continually backing as he parried. He did not take his eyes from his enemy as he fought, but when his heightened senses detected a surge in the current behind him, he glanced back. In that moment he felt the energy of the barrier humming against his clothes. Even meters away, it scratched at him, hungering to rip him apart. When Link turned back, the king’s crown glinted through rain-soaked, unkempt tendrils of crimson hair. The curls of his mane had long been washed out, pulling his strands longer to stick to his cheeks and neck. It was then, looking beyond their clanking blades and into the eyes of the devil that Link saw the renewed glee.
Under the pressing attack of Ganondorf, his only avenue of escape was to be consumed in the current of the barrier. Link cursed himself for falling into the ruse just as he blocked another strike and felt the heavy boot of his enemy knock him back. Unbalanced and arms flailing, he was open to attack.
He felt the vicious, scalding sting of the sage-blade cut along his left shoulder.
Link breathed in through clenched teeth, hissing at the pain, but he could not tend his wound or else he would suffer further. He fought past the smarting ache, countering with a forceful downward swing as he rushed in. The motion killed the nerves in his shoulder, and he could feel the dripping warmth of blood coating his skin and sleeve. However, Ganondorf reacted in exactly the way he had hoped.
Grasping the blade of his sword in his opposite hand to defend horizontally against Link’s assault, Link acted quickly, for the king would not hold this stance for long.
For his small stature and agile body, Link was entirely thankful. As he had swung, he had kept the momentum in his toes, and now he pounced, leaping high. All at once a foot landed against the sage-blade, and with the other he kicked down against the humming steel to send him airborne once more. Link spun as he somersaulted above the towering Ganondorf, and he swung at the demon’s neck in midair.
The king whirled about in response, bringing up his defense just in time, and the power in his shoulder sent the airborne Hylian flying. Link landed hard and skidded through the mud, but instead of giving into the pain when his injured shoulder hit ground, he used the momentum of the blow to roll onto his stomach and push himself back up.
Mud dripped from Link’s sword when he faced Ganondorf once more. His sapphire eyes sparkled like beacons in contrast with the layers of dried blood, sweat, and dirt splattered across his features. His once blond hair stuck to his ears and forehead in clumps of black. Link parted his lips to catch his breath, steadying his shaking extremities. His heart palpitated against his ribs; he could feel its pounding ache as it rushed blood through his veins. He stared up at those yellow eyes once again, eyes that teased him, eyes that terrorized him, the doorway into darkness.
As Ganondorf watched the small man, clenching his puny fist around his stick of a sword, he cocked his head in amusement. This little creature actually thought it was doing well. Did this boy truly think himself the equal of a king? No, not an equal. The Hylian actually thought himself better than, a pure soul. He was as slippery as those glimmering watery eyes of his, but he was not invincible. This tiny man, this insect, would learn that he, Ganondorf, was the rightful heir to the goddesses’ power. Link would take his lesson through the sharp point of a king’s blade skewering his heart.
Enough play. It was time to break the unbreakable.
Ganondorf took patient steps toward Link and then broke into a run. Link lunged forward with a thrust to defend against the diagonal swipe the king sent downward. Close now, the demon pressed onward, and as he led the Master Sword away with the end of his powerful swing, he dove into Link.
With a roar as monstrous as the bellows of the Dark Beast, Ganondorf came crashing down upon the Hylian. His growling voice hung in the air as it boomed stronger and deeper than any sound in the world, and it drowned the life from the storming skies and prevailing wind that beat against his face. Link felt the jolt before he even realized what had happened.
The left fist of the demon smacked squarely and so forcefully into Link’s shield that it wavered and quaked. Its metal buckled against the power of the monster, and cracks splintered through its surface until the great Hylian shield shattered into a hundred shards of useless metal.
Link howled at the violent strike as it shuddered from the metal into his forearm. Time seemed to slow as the shards rained down as Link fell backward. He landed against several of the broken pieces, and though their sharp edges tore through his tunic, none pierced the chainmail beneath. The blow winded him and he choked and sputtered against both the pain shooting through his arm and the shock of his sudden rough landing.
He had no time to nurse his wounds, though, for the demon was upon him once more as he lie there, seemingly dazed and helpless.
A flash of lightning. That was what the sage-blade had appeared to be as it descended toward his neck. It glinted and yellow embers of its majesty sputtered when Link threw up the Master Sword, locking their blades in another struggle of strength. Link felt the intense weight of Ganondorf as the demon’s body cast a heavy shadow over him. The king fueled his sword with his full weight, and Link’s arms shrieked from the pain of keeping such a crushing mass at bay.
Link held his breath as he fought the gravity of this beast and the pressing pains of his shattered shield underneath. He could feel the steel of his own blade beginning to cut along the skin of his neck, and Link moved his right hand to hold the blade of the Master Sword as he battled the sage-blade. He pressed against the blunt surface of his sword to combat Ganondorf, but he had to hold it so tightly that his own weapon bit at his fingers.
Sweat poured from Link’s forehead as his breaths then came in desperate, quick pants, eyes squinted against the pain of his struggle. He could hear the soft but deep chuckle lighting the demon’s eyes ablaze.
The king could feel the insect squirming beneath him, and he knew that he was close to the end. He could not help but smile in celebration, lusting for the hero’s last seconds.
Beyond the barrier, hisses and low cackles of glee emanated from the shadow army, Zant’s slimy lips stretched with an impossible smile. Opposite them, the Hyrulean people stood with eyes wide and hearts hanging.
Rusl cringed at the sight of Link, a boy he had taken in as a son a full eight years before he had had a child of his own. All the years he had cared for Link, watched him grow and learn, crawled back into his mind. From his first words to his first steps, first scrapes and first fears, Link had been a child he had cherished every day. He remembered the face of a three-year-old boy tugging on his pant leg for fear of the dark, and he could recall the day he had helped the thirteen-year-old begin construction on his tree house.
And every memory was coming to an end right before his eyes.
He gripped his sword tight, but there was nothing he could do … and it was killing him.
As Link struggled beneath Ganondorf, he remembered the question he had once asked an ancient warrior. “…is that my destiny? To die in saving Hyrule?”
The heavy voice jostled free within his memories. “If you allow it to be….”
Link grew strong of that voice, grew deep in the memory that he had a choice. The choice to let shadow crawl into his heart and take its hold, or the choice to cast it back with the fire of the hero within him.
He felt warmth as that thought sent a fresh burst of energy coursing through his bones, building to a burning sensation in his hand. Even through his gauntlet, Link and Ganondorf could see the appearance of a golden mark glowing against the back of his left hand. At first, the king thought it a sign that this pathetic hero was at his last, that the Triforce within him was uncoupling from the dying body of its host. With a sudden wave of nausea, he knew he was wrong. Link was growing strong again, the Triforce bringing him back from the brink just as the might of its power had done for him so long ago.
It was a bad joke. To revive Ganondorf from execution as if confirming his right to rule, just to do the same with this pathetic creature…. Were Link and he destined to continue this battle forever? The essence of the gods keeping them alive, keeping them at odds, ever fighting, ever dying and living?
These were his thoughts when Link had mustered all strength, the light of his hand a symbol of hope in the half-night. A red shimmer sung across the hero’s blade then, and in an instant, Ganondorf felt the weightlessness of being airborne when Link gave a final shove against the sage-blade.
By the time Link rose from the ashes of his near-defeat, Ganondorf had landed several meters away. The king hung stooped, regaining himself onto a knee and steadying himself with his empty fist. Link held his right arm gingerly, his forearm still screaming from the blow to his shield and his fingers trickling with the scent of fresh blood. The wave of energy flowing through him, however, the chanting life of the Master Sword, it numbed all pain, all hopelessness.
Gripping the Master Sword in both hands, he bent a knee and drew the full power of the legendary blade into him, beckoned the might of his soul, a soul strong with the presence of heroes past. The power seemed to tremor through the fields beneath him, and he could feel the energy of Hyrule herself lend him her soul. When the energy peaked in a scarlet whistle at the tip of his blade, Link leapt.
He soared through the air and thrust the Master Sword into a downward strike, the crimson energy already beginning to flood from the steel of its humming blade.
The yellow eyes of the devil looked up. A golden light as fierce as the one coursing through Link’s fist emerged from Ganondorf’s, and the king roared as he cut through the crimson tide with one swish of his blade. The resounding clank of steel grated through the air then, as the king knocked Link’s attack away.
The powerful force of their combined energies staggered them both, Ganondorf collapsing onto his fist again after Link bounced sideways onto the ground. Link, small and limber, recovered first, and he came at Ganondorf once more, relentless. With the king stooped over, Link could at last reach him with a straight swing at his neck.
Ganondorf’s head snapped up in an instant, and Link realized his ruse all too late.
The king had played on his desperation to take the advance. Ganondorf swatted the Master Sword aside with a quick flick of his saber and slammed his knuckles into Link’s face.
Link flew back once more, barely keeping his balance in the mud sucking at his boots, and before he could center his weight, Ganondorf launched toward him, plunging his sword in and batting away the hero’s feeble attempt to block its path. The Master Sword escaped Link’s grasp, taken captive by the puddles forming at his toes. The sage-blade missed him, to Link’s surprise, puncturing only air inches from his neck. Yet, this was all part of Ganondorf’s motive.
In the next moment, Link could not breathe. He felt the jaws of death snaking around his throat, constricting and crushing against him. When he grabbed for his neck, he found the giant fingers of Ganondorf instead. Link’s lips, bloodied from the previous blow, opened and closed, trying in vain to suck in air. He could feel the discs in his neck convulsing against the hand in the attempt to widen his airway, as he sputtered and bit on air he could not capture.
Link’s legs kicked and beat at the arm holding him aloft without result. His fingers pulled and clawed at the tanned skin of the demon’s fist frantically. His fingernails etched lines of blood from the king, digging and scraping like a frightened wolf. His eyes widened at the realization of his situation, the truth that death truly was upon him in a matter of seconds, and every muscle in his body thrashed and flailed in his will to escape, his will to live.
As he kicked and clawed all Link could see were the glowing, thirsty eyes of the devil before him, the last image he would see in a darkening world.
Princess Zelda and the Hylian people had fallen into silence. The princess felt the light of her power, the splendor of the Triforce, tugging at her heart as its sisters warred. Zelda could barely breathe from the sensation burning throughout her bones, realizing that her fright came more from the pulsating cries within her as she watched the hero battle. Seeing Link’s pain, seeing Ganondorf’s power peak only seconds after Link’s had saved him … she knew in her great wisdom that the Triforce would not truly be either’s saving grace. They were two titans fighting for everything their hearts desired, each with the full belief that their cause was just and right. No amount of power had birthed those beliefs.
Link felt the blood boiling and swirling through his head when he lowered a hand to his belt. He fumbled for the hilt of his dagger as his other continued to gnaw at Ganondorf’s flesh, trying its best to lift at least one finger from his neck.
As soon as he could grip his dagger, he cast his arm up to jab its small blade into Ganondorf’s arm. A single nerve twitched and jolted the muscles in his hand, giving Link only momentary relief to suck in a rough, garbled breath before the wind was again closed to him … and more tightly.
Link watched in horror as the king patiently sheathed the sage-blade into the ground to wrap a fist around the dagger protruding near his elbow. Without any sign of pain, Ganondorf excised it and grinned. The lethal sparkle in Ganondorf’s eye frightened Link, and he furiously kicked as he sputtered, trying to knock the dagger from his enemy’s hand.
Ganondorf plunged the dagger into Link’s flailing left leg, and Link felt the warm bite of its steel flood his thigh. A scream convulsed through his throat that emerged with the sound of a gurgled cough. The pain shot through his nerves, but he was thankful of the pain; with it came the evidence that he was still very much alive.
He saw the sneer written across the demon’s face and knew that the king thought it the end of him. He could see the blind claim to victory in his eyes, had seen it from the beginning. But Link would not yield his life, or the lives of Hyrule.
He truly fought to his very last breath.
Wrapping his fingers over the dagger, he removed it, turned its blade about, and drove it into Ganondorf’s wrist…. Deep.
At last, the fingers fell from Link, and the hero collapsed to the ground. He coughed and gasped and sputtered as air once again coursed through his bruised throat. He grasped at his neck, surprised that it pained him to breathe again, the current rubbing against his throat. The numbness that had crept into his lips sent cold tingles through his cheeks, and he could finally feel the tears that had streaked his face.
Link did not linger like this for long, however, for he watched as Ganondorf pulled the dagger from his wrist and toss it aside. The king did not remove his stare from Link as he slowly grasped the hilt of the sage-blade.
The Master Sword glimmered nearby in the rain, but as soon as Link started for it, he felt a tug on his shoulder, raising him only partially from the ground. Before Link’s eyes could focus on the image of the sage-blade before him, he felt its sting as Ganondorf smacked its hilt across his face.
The blow sent Link reeling back to the ground, blood flying from his mouth and nose. He choked on its metallic taste only for a moment before he again saw the shinning surface of his weapon. Left hand holding the bleeding wound on his leg, Link tried to banish all thought of his wounds as he resumed crawling for the Master Sword, the blade that would end all suffering.
The moment his right hand landed on its hilt, Ganondorf stomped down.
Lightning pierced the sky and Link’s deafening scream became its thundering response. Every bone in his hand crackled and bent with the weight of the king’s boot. Tears cascaded down Link’s soiled cheeks as the fingers of his opposite hand flexed and grabbed at the boot weakly in answer to the pain. He tried to grab up the Master Sword then, but it was trapped along with his hand.
The scream that had echoed across the field reached the small camp where Telma watched over the horde of wounded Hylians. She looked to Shad, who had remained at her side to help defend the weak, for even with the armies at a standstill, Telma had not trusted the respite. She looked to the young scholar then, terror grasping at the features of her strong, round face. Together, they took up arms and raced across the plain, leaving the remaining soldiers to protect those fallen.
Telma and Shad jostled through the crowds, but when they reached the head of the throng at Auru’s side and saw Link struggling on the ground, the hum of the looking glass stole their breath away. Shad froze and dropped his sword. Telma looked to Auru. Her eyes searched for hope, but he had none to return in the dull shine of his. He turned his gaze upon the nearby Rusl. Auru could see that every fiber that held his soul together was slowly tearing away, a part of himself dying each time Link screamed or moaned in pain beneath the tyrant.
Worse yet were the eyes of Princess Zelda. The girl Auru had known had long since diminished. She was a woman grown now, a queen in waiting. She had conquered so much since the time of their farewells; she had seen the death of her father and been given the responsibility of every life in Hyrule. She had borne the weight proudly and honorably. She had done everything right; she had set aside pride, surrendering to a usurper, to keep her people from harm. She had been wise, working in secret, hanging her hopes on a hero until the day she was again free from evil’s grasp.
No teacher could have ever been more proud of a student than Auru of his princess. She had done everything for the prosperity of her people, and she wept in the fear that all her suffering had been for naught … undone by this single moment.
Zelda could not help thinking that Midna had been right all along. As she stood by, helpless, looking on as Link struggled, she could only wonder what could have happened had she not surrendered, had she not given in to the will of Zant so easily. Would it have changed anything?
What had she done? Link bore the mark of the goddesses. He was the chosen hero, but she could not help feeling responsible.
Cracks against her hope began to form, and she found herself doing the only thing she could.
Hand against her heart … she prayed.
The King of Evil reveled in the feeling of Link’s tiny hand beneath him and the hero’s squirming body trying in vain to pry his foot away. He could feel this boy’s agony radiate up through him, and it filled him with pleasure. The sense of bliss he felt whenever he saw pain in the eyes of those beneath him never waned. Each encounter left him feeling stronger. It was intoxicating.
The descendant…. The one who had put the gears of his defeat into motion all those years ago….
At last. Justice.
“You have his eyes,” bellowed the demon, remembering, and Link stopped for a moment, staring up into eyes poisoned with memory. “Those … blue eyes….” Ganondorf’s hand tightened around his sword. It was as if that boy of ten were the one lying beneath him now, stricken with defiance. “Those willful eyes.” The memory conjured with it an intense anger, one he had held strong in his black heart ever since the day the armies of the old king of Hyrule had subdued him. His jaw clenched and his eyes hardened under his wild hair. His scowl turned to one of pure hatred, and when he spoke, it was as if he addressed that small boy long since gone from the world. The words came slowly, each syllable filled to the brim with passionate wrath. “Did you truly think a small boy greater than a king?”
With that, Ganondorf launched his blade downward without warning….
And Link howled a furious and desperate roar, kicking at the blade as it descended.
His boot impacted the blade so forcefully that it flew to the side and imbedded in the ground beside him. Surprised by the might of the boy, Ganondorf reeled to the side and staggered there a moment.
Link breathed easier when the weight of the demon lifted, but the damage had been done. Every finger and every bone in his hand had been crushed and twisted. Seeing the breaks caused a new surge of pain that he was barely able to control as he lifted his hand and huddled it close to his stomach. Turning with the aid of his elbow instead, he grabbed onto the Master Sword with his proper hand and pushed himself up. He twirled the blade, testing the weight of it again.
Ganondorf sneered and waved him on. His hollow laugh taunted Link.
But Link did not take the bait.
No longer could Link defend against his strongest attack. If Ganondorf charged and managed to lock blades again, Link knew that without the aid of his right hand, he would not have the strength to resist. He realized now that he had never quite had the advantage in this battle, but now his odds were greatly diminished … and would continue to do so if he did not defeat the king soon.
Agility would be Link’s only ally, as it often was with the foes he had faced in the past. He had to take care to mind his surroundings and listen to his instincts as he studied Ganondorf. The king was patient in his movements, and Link mirrored this. He would wait for the demon to attack and find a break in his offense.
After several moments ticked by, Ganondorf and Link circling each other … watching, waiting … the king grew restless. The boy thought to outwit him, he surmised. He had studied. He had learned.
Ganondorf hummed a growl. He would make the boy suffer for his insolence, for thinking himself better than a king.
A burst of speed carried the demon across the battlefield, and Link knew by the way his feet fell that the king would thrust. The Hylian dodged to the right as the king’s attack fell. Ganondorf swung wide and Link ducked and slashed at his toes. The king responded with a quick sidestep and downward slash, only to be diverted by the Master Sword.
With that parry Link launched into a set of attacks, but the king never seemed to tire. Wherever his blade soared, the sage-blade was there to block his assault. Every thrust, each wide arc, and a barrage of slices both horizontal and vertical … all parried with little effort and with Link only managing to catch the cape of the king so that by the time Ganondorf swung for his head, the fabric had been reduced to ribbons fluttering in the wind and hanging on the mist.
As Link ducked to escape Ganondorf’s last attack, the glowing white scar stretching the length of the king’s breast drew his attention. The Master Sword seemed to hum in response to Link’s thoughts, hungering for the strike that would render its service complete.
Link thrust for the king’s wounded heart, but Ganondorf was in motion. The blade missed its mark and sunk deep into the demon’s arm. The stab throbbed and sent waves of jolting pain through his body. The feeling brought on more rage than misery, however, and Link could see the torches of his hatred burn afresh. The Hylian retrieved his blade just as the king swung at his head, skipping back a few steps to give him some room to breathe and study the king’s next move.
The rains came harder when the demon snarled. He had delighted in the boy’s struggle in the beginning, but now his only pleasure would be to see the light of this hero suffocated.
And he knew exactly how to bait Link.
Ganondorf gripped the sage-blade in a firm two-handed hold, exaggerating the motion slightly so that the hero would take his cue.
Link had been dreading the appearance of this stance, but he held fast to his ground some meters away. Link knew how to break free of this attack before it would be unleashed.
And then the demon charged the hero.
In the last seconds, Ganondorf reared his blade high and swung down swiftly, met by Link’s dodging leap to the side, where he prepared an attack. However, this was just the response Ganondorf had expected, and before Link could realize his deception, the king shifted his bearings and sent his fist flying into the boy’s chest.
Wind broke free of Link’s lungs as he sailed and landed in the mud some distance away. A resounding crack had sounded when knuckles had met his chest, and the dazed Link could not comprehend. His mind when numb and his fingers relaxed over the hilt of his blade. His eyes felt heavy, but even as he fought the sudden bleariness … his sapphire eyes closed.
The hero had fallen for the final time.
Princess Zelda gasped when Link had collapsed. Her hand still clutched her chest in prayer, but tears soaked her cheeks anew in seeing Link once more beaten to the ground.
Rusl’s heart fluttered, and he, too, felt faint. His jaw dropped in a silent cry. He could not believe that through all Link’s hardships, through all his victories, that it would all end like this. He wanted to call out to Link, to will him to rise again, but each time he tried to form the words, his tongue turned to sand and he could not speak.
No one breathed as they watched on, praying by some miracle that their hero would rise, but … Link lay motionless under the rain and shadows.
From some distant place, a voice seeped into the fallen boy of Ordon.
“…Your time has come, young warrior, to attest the name of Hero….”The voice rattled and echoed into Link’s Hylian ears, and words he had vowed to live by vibrated into the core of his being.
“If you falter, will you remember to pick yourself back up?”
Link sputtered to life at those words, holding his chest with his wounded right hand. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move, and he realized that the blow to his chest had likely fractured a rib.
Ganondorf approached him, and Link tried to rise, gripping tightly to the Master Sword once more. In the instant Link had managed to lift his back, Ganondorf kicked his chin and sent him reeling onto his side. He cringed at the stabbing pain that coursed through his chest. Lying on his left shoulder, he did not have a good angle to defend himself against Ganondorf, and he feared the fatal strike surely to come any moment now.
He clutched tight to his chest and his sword when the King of Evil spoke. “Look around you, boy,” he gloated. “Hyrule has lost all hope in its hero.”
Involuntarily, Link looked out to the many faces surrounding him beyond the barrier. Rusl was there, at the head of the group, eyes wide in terror. Auru, Telma, and Shad. They all stood by with eyes lit in sorrow. Even Ashei, cold-hearted Ashei, who had gathered with the knights next to the general, remained silent, tears hidden in the rain. The general clenched his jaw tight, trying hard to be the soldier, to be the strong leader everyone needed him to be. And then there was Princess Zelda. Beautiful and wise Zelda, clinging to her beating heart, tears drenching her face. Everyone Link had come to care for, frozen in fear, forced to watch as he had fallen time and again at the might of Ganondorf. What the king had said was true. Link could see that hope had abandoned them, and the shame he felt in that moment outweighed any pain.
“Today, you die,” said Ganondorf, his words colored with the song of triumph.
Is this the end? thought Link.
That was when he saw it.
“Midna…” he gasped.
There, beside him, were the scattered pieces of Midna’s helm, the last bits that remained of his companion. His heart clenched in his chest, and it was harder to breathe. How strange it was that they would be together again like this, lying broken at the end of the world. He wanted to reach out and touch those shards, but his only free hand was as shattered as her memory.
No, not her memory. Link could remember every day with her, from beginning … to end. The way she had sneered at him then, the way the sparkle in her red eye had brought anger to his heart. And then the moment everything had changed. The days her sneer had turned into a smile and her eye had glistened with care. She had always been there. She had been the one to catch him when he fell, to remind him of his oath, remind him of the countless lives depending on him … on them.
Midna had always said they had to save the light realm, and she had died believing in that. She had died believing in Link. She had died trying to do some good, to be as selfless as he had been.
She had died so Link could live.
Link’s eyes burned from tears dripping down the sides of his face, and he turned away from the broken Fused Shadow to lie on his back. He looked up, numb to every pain except the one he felt at the memory of losing Midna. He felt the rain beat against him and welcomed the feeling.
The kingdom of Hyrule wept for its fallen hero … wept with him.
He could feel the ground quaking, could feel the booming weight of Ganondorf as the king took slow steps toward him, but Link was numb to the coming of his doom. As he looked up into the darkness clouding the dawn, he could only see Midna, and it was as if she had always been there, hovering above him. He thought he saw her then, flying down to meet his gaze, to heal his hurts, smiling her toothy grin, to take his hand and lift him to his feet. He closed his eyes and could almost feel her small fingers against his cheek. “What is the one vow you swore to keep?” she was asking. Link went to cup his hand over hers and wept anew when he found she was not there.
He opened his eyes and saw Ganondorf’s frame towering above him. But Link looked beyond him, into the storm, into the shadows, remembering the warmth of the Twilight Realm.
“…For both our realms,” he vowed softly.
It was then that all the terror he had once felt at facing death--at facing Ganondorf--fell away, and he found his true courage, the kind of strength that lived in legends.
“I will save Hyrule even if it means my life.”Link remembered saying those words to a very small child and the hope it had bestowed.
This King of Evil owned the goddesses’ ultimate power, perhaps, but Link had been blessed with a very special gift. The power of courage flowed through his veins, and he had endowed that same strength and will to live, the everlasting and unbreakable hope for the dawn of a new day, in every soul of Hyrule.
As fear collapsed, the Hero rose.
In the breadth of an eye-blink, Ganondorf thrust his blade at Link just as he leapt to his feet and thrust for the demon’s heart.
The moment hung as their audience gasped then watched with bated breath.
Link’s brows had furrowed as he looked up into the eyes of the demon, a face only inches from his. Link panted through his nostrils before his bloodied lips parted to catch his heaving breath. His chest was killing him, his body past the threshold of bearable pain. But he stood firm against his pain … the eyes of the king looking down on him. Slowly, the creases in Ganondorf’s brow faded as his eyes widen with confusion. His triumphant smirk sunk, and a question took its place, unspoken but lingering on the king’s lips, one that would ask the hero … How?
Ganondorf’s shock soon turned to rage as he felt the humming twinge of the Master Sword coursing through his body. He staggered back and Link’s hands fell from the hilt of the blade piercing his heart.
In the same moment, Link felt a tide of nausea as a slicing pain ebbed from his side. He cupped his broken hand over the searing ache in his left side and saw the blood dripping from the sage-blade before he noticed the crimson trickling through the gaps of his fingers. He realized what it meant, but he turned his attention back to Ganondorf nonetheless, doing his best to hide the gravity of his wound from his audience.
Ganondorf stumbled, dropping the sage-blade onto the tainted field. With his right hand he grabbed for the Master Sword, its blade pushed so far into him that guard had met fabric. His fingers flexed around its hilt, and he found himself unable to touch it, unable to pull it. The feeling left him weak as he gasped and fell to his knees.
He caught himself with a fist, trying to steady his weight, trying to rise as he was meant to. A king did not kneel, and yet he stooped there, unable to remove his pain.
He screamed, prolonged…. And in that bellow, a thousand memories flooded back within an instant.
He remembered what it had felt like … the cold, hard sting of metal lighting his bones on fire. A long time ago … the sages had been the ones to face him at the edge of a sword.
But they had not been able to kill him, not he, the Wielder of ultimate Power. Not he. His power had pulsed anew within him when their sacred blade had pierced his heart. He had always looked to that day as one that had renewed him somehow, for the power within him was a godly thing, and it had run the river of his being and rekindled him in his darkest hour.
Not this time.
Before, when the sages had pierced his heart, he had been rejuvenated with a vigor that uplifted his darkened soul. He had cheated death. The gods had allowed it. But now….
Grunting, Ganondorf pushed himself up slowly, inch-by-inch, and glared down to find the eyes of Link … the eyes of that boy…. In Link’s eyes he saw the understanding of what he felt. He knew what it was without having ever felt it before--though approaching its distinct line closely during his lifetime. He had never truly crossed that line until now.
He was dying….
The white scar upon his chest pulsed with a replenished glow, the hole in his darkness that marked his existence and what he had spent his lifetimes trying to achieve.
With his power he should have been able to excise this pathetic blade, this dagger of a sword, but he did not have the energy to pull it forth from his body. Was this what death did upon its approach? Did it truly drain one’s energy before pulling the soul into its final plummet into forever darkness? Or was it some other kind of magic?
Staggering, he used his last rasping breaths of life to glower at his executioner. “Do not think it ends here…” he growled, gasping.
Was it that he wanted to press into Link a false but lasting fear of his return … a return that would never come? Or was it true that he may find a way to resurrect himself in the Netherworld as he had done within the Twilight?
His eyes drooped as he nearly tripped, but he gritted his teeth against the blood that seeped through them and down his chin. He peeled his eyes open once again, struggling on his words. “The history of light and shadow will be written in blood!” he proclaimed to Link and all who bore witness.
He fell forward slightly as he spoke but kept himself upright, panting for his breaths to sustain him just a little longer. But his right hand tingled, and when he looked down … his worst fear….
The Power of the Triforce faded from him, and his eyes felt heavier than the world.
Suddenly, he could hear a faint humming that soon rose into distinct voices, and so it was that he could hear the pure song of his gods.
His hands fell to his sides. His chest heaved. His breaths crackled. As they sang to him, he wanted to fight the feelings that came over him, but it was some kind of … peace … that began to consume him as their lullaby soothed him in his final moments. The corners of his mouth fell, and his face grew blank, ears alight with the gentle harmonies of his gods. He watched as the dark clouds in the dawning sky faded and the thunder receded.
It was always darkest before the dawn; that was a law of nature.
And then--
His head jerked back when the pain of his wound pervaded his numbness, its whiteness fading into a black nothingness. His eyes grew white as a perfect cloud. His breath escaped forever, and his head fell forward gently, chin resting against his armor.
A high screech sounded, reverberating with a metallic noise. Zant, King of Shadows, drove one of his curved blades full through the armor of a Hylian knight, and just as another slashed out at his back, a shadow beast wrapped its claws around the knight. It choked the life from him, pouring darkness into his soul as all warmth left his body. When the knight hung limp in its grasp, it tossed the corpse away like a broken toy.
Then a raging war cry clapped through the air, and the steel of Ashei’s blade met solidly against the white edge of Zant’s weapon before it could kill another young soldier. He growled like a child against her defense, bringing down his second blade as he danced wildly about her. This attack failed as well, though, for the Hylian general caught Zant’s blade and pushed him back with the full might of his broad shoulders. Zant nearly tripped as he stumbled backward.
Ashei sent a quick nod of thanks to the general and they gathered in close with three other soldiers to prepare for the next assault. Ashei gripped her broadsword tightly in her double-handed grip, sweat pouring from her dark-haired brow.
Zant hissed like the animal he was, and all at once the helmet protecting his head clicked away to reveal his sickly skin and the harsh yellow pupils of his glowing orange eyes. His coif fell to his nape and red hair tumbled around his grotesque features, ravaged by hatred and despair … and death. He was a vessel of pure hate now, bent to every whim of Ganondorf, bound by the grace of his power. Finally and truthfully, nothing more than a wild and ravenous animal. His hiss turned into a growl behind his crooked teeth, and his angry cry sounded more like a snapping bark.
With his entourage of shadow beasts, he charged into the circle of Hylians and sunk his blades in for the kill.
Just as a shadow beast leapt for the soldier on the outside of their gathering, a horse swooped by, its rider knocking it back with a spiked mace. Ashei had no room to glance away from her battle with the usurper king, or she would have recognized the blacksmith of Ordon immediately.
Rusl did not stop to help further; he raced on toward another group of Hylians struggling against a dark knight. He brought his feet up onto the saddle of his borrowed steed and steadied himself as he aligned his ride. Once he drew close, he leapt from his mount, unsheathing the blade resting at his hip, and landed directly atop its giant shoulder. Before the knight could respond to the new threat, Rusl had leapt again, driving his sword through its spine right where its heart would have been. Its sword arm flailed as it collapsed into rubble, and the surrounding soldiers jumped away or threw up shields in protection.
With the knight defeated, Rusl quickly gazed across the line of Hylian soldiers and saw none wounded. His deed done he turned to locate his horse, finding it trampling bulblins as it raced off. A grim smile lit his lips at that, but it was erased when he took notice of a wounded Hylian standing before a crumpled horse, spear through its neck. The soldier held his arm tightly across his chest as he battled solely against a shadow beast and two bokoblins.
Rusl dashed across the field, hacking through one enemy after the next as they sprouted in his path. By the time he had reached the battle, the knight had tripped over one of his horse’s legs, sword dislodged from his grasp. The knight scrambled vainly to reach his fallen blade, for just as his fingers touched the guard, the shadow beast had plucked him up, hissing its ballad of twilit vulgarity.
The knight struggled in its grasp and kicked out at the bokoblin that approached with jagged sword raised. Just as he thought he might die, blood splattered against his face. He thought it his end, but when he looked down in the absence of pain, he realized a blade had pierced through the shadow beast’s chest from its backside. Its dying shriek echoed across the plain as it dropped him to his knees.
The knight grabbed his blade and swung it around to attack the bokoblins, but once he reared back, he stopped at the sight of Rusl, member of the Resistance. The two bokoblins lay dead at his feet, as he extended a hand to calm the knight, who cringed at the renewed jolt of pain searing the inside of his shoulder. It was no ordinary wound, for he had been one of few to survive the onslaught of the sage-blade.
Rusl knelt down to the knight as he leaned back against the body of his horse. Sweat drenched his sandy hair, rippling through the bloodstains of the shadow beast. Rusl had only meant to check that the knight would live, but as he called for the nearby Shad to render assistance, the knight clutched his arm tight, pulling him in.
“P--Princess…. The prin…” he tried through his heaving breaths and the intense pain.
A wave of alarm struck Rusl as he scanned the battlefield. He saw the princess nowhere. Nor could he find Link and Epona. A sick feeling grasped at his navel, and a fear crept into him, one whispering that he would find Link broken at the edge of the world.
He awoke to his surroundings once more at a sudden shriek from Shad. Rusl turned, finding that Shad had fallen in a heap under the might of a towering shadow beast. Its tentacles whipped and rippled as it skittered toward Shad, hungering for Hylian flesh, thirsting for revenge against the light.
The blacksmith launched himself at the beast in the same moment that a spear shot sidelong through its head. It collapsed immediately without another breath.
Rusl and Shad turned their attention to the man bounding for them on horseback, the white of its mane mirroring the beard of its rider. Auru.
The old man drew up beside them, bending over just slightly to reclaim his spear.
“I say … f-fantastic shot,” cheered Shad, trying desperately to keep the shock from his voice. He pushed his cracked spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose, struggling to act as at peace among the battle as Rusl and Auru.
“Have you seen Link?” interjected Rusl quickly.
“With the princess, last I saw,” he replied, continually examining their immediate surroundings for danger.
His response did little to ease Rusl’s discomfort, but he was forced to keep his mind in the moment. Protecting Shad and the wounded Hylian was his direct priority. Auru acknowledged the injured soldier and directed Rusl’s attention to a cluster of Hylians nearby, where those who had been lying injured within Telma’s bar had been transported, lying helpless as two full units of knights--as well as the ferocious Telma--fought off the hordes.
Rusl ordered Shad to help the wounded knight to his feet, and the young scholar did so without question, trying his best to console the moaning knight as he took his arm over his shoulders. They hobbled along as Rusl defended them, and Auru sped away in the attempt to clear a path.
They met the howling war cries of Telma as she and the knight alongside her cut through bulblin after bokoblin. Auru’s mount trampled over several of the oncoming swarm, as he used his spear like a sword, smacking its sharp point and blunt end into target after target in a whirl of endless motion.
Auru drew is horse up at the front of the guard once the nearby enemies had been dispatched. Behind him, Shad guided the wounded Hylian into the camp of the wounded. The civilians who had also been transported to the field were gathered here, most answering the need for nurses, tending to the hurts of the soldiers who continued to gather within the shrine of defending knights.
“How you holding up, honey?” Telma called back to Shad as he left the knight to the nurses and drew up beside her, arms numb from having borne the soldier’s weight. He gave her a cringing nod and brought up his sword again, nearly screaming as he attacked a charging bokoblin on sheer reflex. It had not killed the monster, but he had left it staggering enough for Telma to finish the job. Shad’s sudden reaction to the threat bolstered his courage and a small, unsure smile replaced his creased brows.
A golden flutter in the far distance drew Auru’s attention after dispatching another foe, and he realized it was the golden head and white shimmer of Princess Zelda. She had been struggling with her horse’s reins, racing toward him, but then she reared high, turning her mount, the great crimson Epona. At once, she was away, hugging close to Epona as they raced through the hordes to the right. The motion happened in the snap of a finger, but when Auru had seen his princess rising high above the masses, time had seemed to slow, and relief had flooded him as his vigor was renewed.
Yet, just as he had recognized her face, a sudden terror wrenched at his heart.
Link was no longer with her. Epona was his mount, and Auru had seen the three of them bolt off together, unified.
He looked for the telltale color of his green tunic among the multitudes. He could not find him, which frightened him, but not nearly as much as the terror that struck him in the following moment. When he followed Princess Zelda’s line of sight, followed the direction of her racing horse … he found Link … lying unmoving in the muck and mist that shrouded him and the ominous black giant stepping nearer and nearer to the hero with every quaking heartbeat of Auru.
In his reigning stupor, Auru did not see the roaring bokoblin closing in. His horse tossed and kicked at the foe, and he struggled to remain aloft. By the time he realized what was happening, Rusl had already gutted the enemy. Auru’s thanks was silent in eyes alight with terror, Rusl could see, and he followed his stare when Auru returned his sight to the distant Link.
Rusl gasped, fear strangling his words, like the fright a father felt at the brink of watching his son die. In the moment he called for a horse, Auru had fought past his fears and come alive again. As Rusl mounted the armored horse drawn up to him, Auru bellowed, waving his spear in the direction of Princess Zelda’s rocketing figure. His horse reared and then took off like fire on a dry plain, and Rusl followed close behind.
As the pair sped across the battlefield, their cries rallied several more horseback knights who sped alongside their flanks, weapons raised for the charge.
Far ahead of her knights, Princess Zelda panted as Epona galloped at full speed. Her breath caught in a gasp as a dark knight tumbled over in their path, but Epona reacted swiftly and bounded over the obstacle with ease. Zelda held fast and close, trusting that Epona would reach her master in time.
===============
The voracious glee humming within Ganondorf sprung into a laugh as he looked down on the stumbling figure of the boy so many had come to call Hero. But this boy was no hero. He was a lost child fumbling and grasping for meaning, trying desperately to accept the fate which had been so cruelly cast upon him by his gods. It was by some prank that they had chosen this pathetic, small animal in whom to house their power … that they would guide him on a quest to face him here at last. The joke made him laugh in the face of Link and his gods.
He would crush him so completely, shatter his unbreakable spirit into so many shards, that the legends to follow his reign hundreds of years later would remember no fragment of this boy’s existence. History was written by those victorious, and he would cut Link from every corner of Hyrule. After this day no one would dare speak his name.
The boy from the forest. The warrior in green. It all reminded him of the boy’s ancestor, that same small child, so feeble, without the strength to even hold a proper sword, he imagined…. The same blue eyes that had defied him so long ago. When Ganondorf looked into those eyes, it was years ago, and he saw that little boy again, staring at him from behind a young princess and her glorious sages and knights who had subdued him.
How he cursed that day.
He had held onto that hatred even in the void of Twilight. He breathed because of the vengeance filling his veins, brimming in his bones. It was the fiber of his existence.
The coming dawn would give rise to his reign, his ultimate majesty.
When Link gazed up at the approaching figure of Ganondorf, his eyes still felt hazy. He bit back the pain through gritted teeth. Shoulder quaking, head throbbing, he had to stand, had to gather his wits … but no matter how hard he tried, he could not bring himself to rise.
His struggle brought new fuel to the demon’s callous chuckle, and he charged at Link, two hands fisted around the hilt of the sage-blade.
The sudden movement dazed Link in the same moment that it brought his eyes into focus. He scurried to raise the Master Sword … but realized it was no longer in his grasp. Quickly, he plucked up two blades dropped by felled Hylian knights and lifted them to defend against Ganondorf’s downward thrust … just as it would have struck his skull. But the blades were no match against the blade of the sages, and it sliced through their steel like butter. Link barely had time to duck in order to avoid the shrieking magical metal of Ganondorf’s sword.
That was proof enough. If he was to have any chance at defeating Ganondorf once and for all, he required the blade of evil’s bane, the sword of the legendary hero.
Before he could move to defend himself, Ganondorf had drawn himself up to his full height over him and gave a swift and forceful kick. The hit landed in Link’s gut and sent him flying to the ground again meters away. The brutal blow gagged him and he coughed a string of vomit, holding his stomach as he gasped for air.
Link struggled to his knees, head lowered from the pain.
When Ganondorf spoke, Link could hear the snarl written across his face, feel the laughter in his tone, the victory. “See how Hyrule’s hero bows before me.”
Link raised his sapphire eyes against the thunder and pelting rain and found the yellow shimmer of Ganondorf. “Never,” the hero said. “Hyrule will never bow to your reign.”
The confident rebellion in his eyes angered Ganondorf, and Link could see it in his shadowed eyes. The demon’s once fine red hair hung in tangled spikes and curls around his head; some were even frayed from where the Dark Beast’s mane had been set ablaze. This king, with his ruffled hair, soiled armor, and fraying cape, now truly looked like the demon Link had first expected to encounter.
Link spotted the glint of the Master Sword to his left and immediately raced over to seize it. Ganondorf did nothing to stop him, merely let loose new laughter as he took a careful and slow step forward. Link held up the sword as he waited, stooped low with feet constantly shifting his weight.
“An impressive-looking blade…” bellowed Ganondorf. His humming laughter then immediately died. “But nothing more.” He glowered down at Link, so small compared to his great height. “Would you hear my desire?” he asked with the hint of a grin, and he brandished the sage-blade before him as streaks of lightning silhouetted his frame with a clap of thunder. “I will take this foul blade and use it to blot out the light forever.”
He was not sure, but Link thought that his words carried a subtext that also meant the suffocation of his light and life … and any other like him who would oppose his reign. And the demon would use the very blade that had executed him, the very weapon that had sealed his fate and brought him back into the world with a power beyond everything else. The sage-blade had birthed him anew.
Ganondorf approached him then with slow, calculated steps. Link held his ground, held his stance, waiting for the attack.
Then, from behind Ganondorf, Link spotted the figure of Zelda racing toward him astride Epona, and his spirits lifted at the sight. She held up the bow once more, ready to aim another powerful attack at the demon king. Ganondorf noticed this, however, could read the renewed hope in Link’s eyes and the reflection of Zelda’s light within their shimmer, and he grinned. With a flick of his hand, an orange barrier flickered to life, enshrining Link and he within its large circle.
Only the two of them.
The power of his magic caused a massive shockwave to blast outward from its border, knocking every soul to the ground. Epona reared and shrieked as the wave of energy overpowered her and sent her reeling to the ground. Zelda, too, screamed as she sailed from the saddle and landed hard against the wet ground. Grunting, she dug her silk hands--now stained with layers of mud and blood--into the ground and pushed herself up. The bow had flown from her grasp, and she could not find it.
The weapon would have done her little good, though, for when she turned back to face Ganondorf and Link, she saw Hylians already charging the barrier and being flung back again by its cruel magic. She threw up an arm to shield her eyes from the flare of orange light that coursed through them, and she thought surely they had perished.
“Princess!” she heard, and she tossed her gaze about. Suddenly, she was ducking back down into the grime to avoid the wide swing of a dark knight, but just as soon did it crumble to the ground, tossing up the dirty brew beneath.
Zelda rose to meet the face of her general, broadsword still at the ready. Alongside him came the familiar face of her childhood tutor, Auru. She had not seen his wrinkled face in years, and she found comfort in his kind eyes, eyes that had always twinkled with genuine care for his princess. He had been knocked from his mount as well, and instead of waiting to right the creature, he had closed the remaining distance between Zelda and him with a sprint. She grasped his forearm firmly, as if looking for guidance once more from his gentle eyes.
It pained Auru that he had no counsel for her save a hand that grasped hers in kind.
Then they saw the rush of movement flying past them. Rusl, who had reclaimed his seat upon his mount, bolted toward the barrier. His eyes were alight with panic as he trampled and bashed through the horde that rose between the barrier and him. He could hear and feel the hum that vibrated through the field from the magic, and he had seen the way it had smacked away the assailing Hylians with tendrils of light.
Princess Zelda did not wait for her entourage as she sped off in Rusl’s wake. The general called after her, and he, Auru, and the surrounding knights raced after her, forming a protective bubble around their young sovereign as she made her way toward the barrier.
She heard the resounding shrieks just as shadow beasts descended upon her. She stopped in her tracks and grabbed up a sword from the battlefield as her escorts halted and formed around her. Zelda held out the blade with a grim expression, and she met the beasts in battle, steel against claw. Her skirt and hair twirled about her small frame as she slashed through the leading beast, her knights engaging the surrounding shadows with matched ferocity. Seeing their princess in action, pressing the attack, bolstered their nerve, and when she yelped and collapsed, they only fought harder.
Auru and the general formed around the princess as she rose, still grasping her weapon, but now holding tightly to her arm as well. A beast had torn right through her pauldron and landed a nasty cut. She gritted her teeth at the pain and assured Auru that the wound was nothing.
As the general and one of her knights brought down a shadow beast, the piercing cry of the Twili usurper lit the air on fire. Its tone rang in their ears, staggering some, and suddenly, the shadows were retreating. The unprovoked withdrawal puzzled Zelda and her entourage as they searched for Zant, who they found standing opposite the barrier at the head of his still massive force of beasts, bublins, and bokoblins.
The general thought it a ruse, but as the seconds ticked by without assault and the stragglers of the shadow army retreated to join their comrades, he slowly let his sword hang low. Yet, he did not lower his guard entirely. Strangely, Zelda and the Hylian army came to understand their foe’s intent. At the will of his master, Zant would make them suffer, to watch as their hero fell at the might of his god.
The general’s voice rang strong throughout the battlefield, calling knights to drawn back and come into formation some distance from the barrier opposite the horde of shadows. He and Auru followed their princess as she bounded to the head of her army. She came alongside Rusl, who had dismounted his horse. Pain unlike any other filled his eyes, and Zelda, though she did not know his face, understood that his connection to Link was deep. Even the tender hand she placed on his arm could not turn his frown, and the princess’s sorrow deepened as she turned back to the image before her.
Helpless. She had never felt so powerless. No one could lift a finger to the terror within the barrier.
Keeping a close eye on his pacing enemy as well, Link had watched as the armies had formed around them. He had seen the barrier flick away the pressing knights, and he came face-to-face with the terror that had been welling in his bones since the sages had first told him of the King of Evil.
He had gotten what he had wanted. To face the demon king alone.
Even without Midna.
The thought of her rekindled the fire in his belly.
Ganondorf. Midna’s murderer.
When the demon king charged, the memory of Midna fueled Link’s legs and the barking cry that cracked louder than the thunder quaking against the surrounding canyons. Link leapt against Ganondorf’s attack, and Sage-Blade and Master Sword met in a dance of sparking light. Link clenched his teeth, using every ounce of his strength to command his flexing muscles. Ganondorf barely broke a sweat as he pressed his blade down, the Master Sword locked between the dual guards of his sword.
With a twist and burst of strength, Link threw Ganondorf from him, but the bulky king did not lose balance. He grinned.
Link backed away, donning his shield against his right forearm. He twirled the Master Sword, feeling its weight, its power, preparing himself for the grueling battle ahead of him.
His final hour.
Link studied the king’s slow, steady movements. He knew the dexterity of his small stature would be his saving grace against an enemy of sheer brute force. Beating Ganondorf to the offensive, Link raced back in, ducking under the sweeping horizontal attack the demon unleashed. He slashed upward, but the king was quick and very skilled. Ganondorf brought his blade back in for the parry, slapping away the Master Sword with ease, but Link did not despair. He thrust his blade, and Ganondorf caught it with the blunt side of his sword. Link sliced in a wide arc, and Ganondorf blocked it vertically, holding the blade within his opposite hand to secure it.
Even though none of his attacks pierced the king’s defense, Link learned as he fought. He understood the way he used his body in the brunt of his attacks, noticed the way he mostly used his elbow and shoulder without much movement in his wrist. His movements were slow because they were so carefully calculated, so patient.
Then the game changed after Ganondorf kicked out at Link. The Hylian dodged and thrust in again, only to find the king leaping up and over him. Link twisted about just in time to see him land and slash out at his toes. The swiftness of his movements and the weightlessness he had seemed to embody startled Link. He only just leapt back as Ganondorf’s blade chimed through the air.
Link brought his shield around as the king unleashed a series of attacks, deep thrusts and wide swings, all empowered by his broad shoulder. Link defended against each with his Hylian metal, each hit sending a numbing jolt that vibrated through his arm. He was nearly knocked to the ground again from the blow that followed, a jarring hit from his left elbow that knocked Link’s shield to the side. When Ganondorf whirled about and lunged his opposite arm forward with the glimmering sage-blade, Link barely had a window to knock it back with the Master Sword.
Ganondorf’s amused grin disintegrated into a growling frown as he took a step back, brandishing his blade to the side.
The Hylian hero took advantage of this retrograde and pressed the attack with several diagonal slices and a quick thrust at his middle. All his attacks were parried, however, and when Ganondorf caught the Master Sword against his blade on the last attack, he pushed back and swiped at the Hylian’s neck. Link dropped and rolled to the right to avoid the blow, and he popped up and readied his blade anew.
That was when he observed possibly the only advantage he would claim over this demon king.
With his sword tightly gripped in his right hand, Ganondorf was slow to cover his left flank. It was only a few seconds, but Link would take any window to his advantage. Link hid the realization from his eyes and his shifting body that itched to immediately use the vulnerability against the king.
He let the short seconds tick by for Ganondorf to draw up his attack again, and when Link dodged another horizontal slash, he feigned left. As Ganondorf’s blade cut down through the air with impossible speed, Link rolled back to the right. He drew up behind Ganondorf, leaping up with a mighty diagonal slice that tore through his cape and met the unguarded fabric on the side of his lower back.
A guttural howl broke through Ganondorf’s lungs as his back arched in response to the sudden sting. He swiveled quickly to discourage further attacks, and with his harsh eyes reflecting the vicious color of the surrounding lightning, he glared down at the boy.
The mists flitted through their battlefield as the rains came harder. The water helped to cleanse the wound on Link’s forehead, and he welcomed the relief. Yet, with the water turning patches of the ground to mud, he found it more difficult to keep sure footing. Link tested his weight as he mirrored Ganondorf’s movements, circling each other. It was not long until Link had adapted to the new battlefield. His body knew how to acclimatize to different landscapes, and he trusted his instincts.
Link saw the anger in Ganondorf abate once more, his frown transforming into a thin line of amusement. He was enjoying himself. The thought sent a prickle through Link’s arm, and he involuntarily found himself twirling his blade again.
Ganondorf watched the boy closely. Perhaps he had the courage to face him, and some skill with a blade, but none of it would be enough. He found pleasure in Link’s feeble struggle. It was entertaining to watch this small animal defy him, knowing that whatever strength the boy thought he had, Ganondorf would see his end.
He would enjoy this.
As Link scrutinized this demon’s every movement and the way he smiled even now, he finally understood. He understood why Ganondorf had erected the barrier, why the spectacle. It was not enough for Ganondorf to kill Link; he wanted to take his life before an audience, to rip away what little hope they had. He would destroy their spirit by destroying their hero … right before their every eye.
Link looked across the faces of the Hyrulean people … and saw that Ganondorf’s scheme was indeed taking effect. They saw Link’s struggle and feared for his failure.
A memory came back to him then, stronger than anything, and he could almost hear the boy speaking to him. “Everyone talks about you,” the voice told him. “Everyone says that … they wish they had your courage.”The thought of young Soal, so hopeful, renewed his drive. He remembered his promise, the vow to be Hryule’s sword and shield for as long as the people needed him.
“If my single life can save the lives of thousands….”That was the last thing he had said to Rusl, the man he owed so much. And he recalled his mentor’s proud words: “A hero is not defined only in battle. They also inspire. They bring hope of a new horizon. They return faith to faithless. You are a hero in every way. The courage of your heart is unmatched.”
This was what Ganondorf, and perhaps even the princess and her people, did not understand. Though they stared on, helpless, the very fact was that they stood. Here they had gathered … on this battlefield, to fight and defend home and family. A new horizon was approaching, though the rolling thunder and lightning fed on its rising sun. Everything Link had done, every evil he had banished, had been to bring together the people of Hyrule, to encourage their hearts to rise above their fears.
And so he had done.
Ganondorf may have thought the audience a distraction, but it only served to remind Link of every reason he had fought and bled for so long.
“This is not where your story will end.” Link clung to that hope when he twirled his blade anew and then held it firm. Every hope of Hyrule rested on the steel of his legendary blade, and that hope had been his constant companion all this time.
The demon king charged forward as he held his blade to the side in two strong fists. His cape flapped wildly behind his heavy, sloshing footfalls. The jubilant hunger in his eyes flashed like lightning, and his thunder came in a chuckling roar.
The hero waited until the last moment, body language fooling Ganondorf to believe the Hylian would stand his ground and parry. Yet, just as Link twisted his sword up to block the attack, he stole back his blade right before making contact, letting his hilt slide in his grasp in order to hold it backwards, and he sidestepped in a whirling dance that sent his blade lashing across the king’s left forearm.
Ganondorf reacted quickly when his saber hit unyielding, muddy soil. Using it to counterbalance his immense weight, he leaned and launched a violent kick at Link. The Hylian backed away, and as soon as his feet had settled, Ganondorf was upon him with a thrust, giving Link little time to hit it away.
Link had nearly lost his balance in the muck from that parry, the tip of the demon’s blade singing very close to his neck. He regained himself as he took quick, careful steps back and watched as Ganondorf followed in kind, closing the distancing with slow, pounding boots just as quickly as Link’s legs carried him backward.
The hero shifted then; as soon as Ganondorf had caught the pace of his backward footfalls, Link reversed and danced forward, skipping a step or two, launching forward with a thrust.
Yet, the demon reacted swiftly and easily batted away the Master Sword with the back of his empty fist. He unleashed a wide attack at Link’s feet, and the Hylian leapt away. Ganondorf rushed him then, bombarding Link with slash and thrust, repeatedly, one right after the other. The small Hylian wove his blade in and around the king’s attacks, their magical steel colliding in radiant sparks as they danced and spun.
The weight of Ganondorf’s attacks forced Link to give ground, continually backing as he parried. He did not take his eyes from his enemy as he fought, but when his heightened senses detected a surge in the current behind him, he glanced back. In that moment he felt the energy of the barrier humming against his clothes. Even meters away, it scratched at him, hungering to rip him apart. When Link turned back, the king’s crown glinted through rain-soaked, unkempt tendrils of crimson hair. The curls of his mane had long been washed out, pulling his strands longer to stick to his cheeks and neck. It was then, looking beyond their clanking blades and into the eyes of the devil that Link saw the renewed glee.
Under the pressing attack of Ganondorf, his only avenue of escape was to be consumed in the current of the barrier. Link cursed himself for falling into the ruse just as he blocked another strike and felt the heavy boot of his enemy knock him back. Unbalanced and arms flailing, he was open to attack.
He felt the vicious, scalding sting of the sage-blade cut along his left shoulder.
Link breathed in through clenched teeth, hissing at the pain, but he could not tend his wound or else he would suffer further. He fought past the smarting ache, countering with a forceful downward swing as he rushed in. The motion killed the nerves in his shoulder, and he could feel the dripping warmth of blood coating his skin and sleeve. However, Ganondorf reacted in exactly the way he had hoped.
Grasping the blade of his sword in his opposite hand to defend horizontally against Link’s assault, Link acted quickly, for the king would not hold this stance for long.
For his small stature and agile body, Link was entirely thankful. As he had swung, he had kept the momentum in his toes, and now he pounced, leaping high. All at once a foot landed against the sage-blade, and with the other he kicked down against the humming steel to send him airborne once more. Link spun as he somersaulted above the towering Ganondorf, and he swung at the demon’s neck in midair.
The king whirled about in response, bringing up his defense just in time, and the power in his shoulder sent the airborne Hylian flying. Link landed hard and skidded through the mud, but instead of giving into the pain when his injured shoulder hit ground, he used the momentum of the blow to roll onto his stomach and push himself back up.
Mud dripped from Link’s sword when he faced Ganondorf once more. His sapphire eyes sparkled like beacons in contrast with the layers of dried blood, sweat, and dirt splattered across his features. His once blond hair stuck to his ears and forehead in clumps of black. Link parted his lips to catch his breath, steadying his shaking extremities. His heart palpitated against his ribs; he could feel its pounding ache as it rushed blood through his veins. He stared up at those yellow eyes once again, eyes that teased him, eyes that terrorized him, the doorway into darkness.
As Ganondorf watched the small man, clenching his puny fist around his stick of a sword, he cocked his head in amusement. This little creature actually thought it was doing well. Did this boy truly think himself the equal of a king? No, not an equal. The Hylian actually thought himself better than, a pure soul. He was as slippery as those glimmering watery eyes of his, but he was not invincible. This tiny man, this insect, would learn that he, Ganondorf, was the rightful heir to the goddesses’ power. Link would take his lesson through the sharp point of a king’s blade skewering his heart.
Enough play. It was time to break the unbreakable.
Ganondorf took patient steps toward Link and then broke into a run. Link lunged forward with a thrust to defend against the diagonal swipe the king sent downward. Close now, the demon pressed onward, and as he led the Master Sword away with the end of his powerful swing, he dove into Link.
With a roar as monstrous as the bellows of the Dark Beast, Ganondorf came crashing down upon the Hylian. His growling voice hung in the air as it boomed stronger and deeper than any sound in the world, and it drowned the life from the storming skies and prevailing wind that beat against his face. Link felt the jolt before he even realized what had happened.
The left fist of the demon smacked squarely and so forcefully into Link’s shield that it wavered and quaked. Its metal buckled against the power of the monster, and cracks splintered through its surface until the great Hylian shield shattered into a hundred shards of useless metal.
Link howled at the violent strike as it shuddered from the metal into his forearm. Time seemed to slow as the shards rained down as Link fell backward. He landed against several of the broken pieces, and though their sharp edges tore through his tunic, none pierced the chainmail beneath. The blow winded him and he choked and sputtered against both the pain shooting through his arm and the shock of his sudden rough landing.
He had no time to nurse his wounds, though, for the demon was upon him once more as he lie there, seemingly dazed and helpless.
A flash of lightning. That was what the sage-blade had appeared to be as it descended toward his neck. It glinted and yellow embers of its majesty sputtered when Link threw up the Master Sword, locking their blades in another struggle of strength. Link felt the intense weight of Ganondorf as the demon’s body cast a heavy shadow over him. The king fueled his sword with his full weight, and Link’s arms shrieked from the pain of keeping such a crushing mass at bay.
Link held his breath as he fought the gravity of this beast and the pressing pains of his shattered shield underneath. He could feel the steel of his own blade beginning to cut along the skin of his neck, and Link moved his right hand to hold the blade of the Master Sword as he battled the sage-blade. He pressed against the blunt surface of his sword to combat Ganondorf, but he had to hold it so tightly that his own weapon bit at his fingers.
Sweat poured from Link’s forehead as his breaths then came in desperate, quick pants, eyes squinted against the pain of his struggle. He could hear the soft but deep chuckle lighting the demon’s eyes ablaze.
The king could feel the insect squirming beneath him, and he knew that he was close to the end. He could not help but smile in celebration, lusting for the hero’s last seconds.
Beyond the barrier, hisses and low cackles of glee emanated from the shadow army, Zant’s slimy lips stretched with an impossible smile. Opposite them, the Hyrulean people stood with eyes wide and hearts hanging.
Rusl cringed at the sight of Link, a boy he had taken in as a son a full eight years before he had had a child of his own. All the years he had cared for Link, watched him grow and learn, crawled back into his mind. From his first words to his first steps, first scrapes and first fears, Link had been a child he had cherished every day. He remembered the face of a three-year-old boy tugging on his pant leg for fear of the dark, and he could recall the day he had helped the thirteen-year-old begin construction on his tree house.
And every memory was coming to an end right before his eyes.
He gripped his sword tight, but there was nothing he could do … and it was killing him.
As Link struggled beneath Ganondorf, he remembered the question he had once asked an ancient warrior. “…is that my destiny? To die in saving Hyrule?”
The heavy voice jostled free within his memories. “If you allow it to be….”
Link grew strong of that voice, grew deep in the memory that he had a choice. The choice to let shadow crawl into his heart and take its hold, or the choice to cast it back with the fire of the hero within him.
He felt warmth as that thought sent a fresh burst of energy coursing through his bones, building to a burning sensation in his hand. Even through his gauntlet, Link and Ganondorf could see the appearance of a golden mark glowing against the back of his left hand. At first, the king thought it a sign that this pathetic hero was at his last, that the Triforce within him was uncoupling from the dying body of its host. With a sudden wave of nausea, he knew he was wrong. Link was growing strong again, the Triforce bringing him back from the brink just as the might of its power had done for him so long ago.
It was a bad joke. To revive Ganondorf from execution as if confirming his right to rule, just to do the same with this pathetic creature…. Were Link and he destined to continue this battle forever? The essence of the gods keeping them alive, keeping them at odds, ever fighting, ever dying and living?
These were his thoughts when Link had mustered all strength, the light of his hand a symbol of hope in the half-night. A red shimmer sung across the hero’s blade then, and in an instant, Ganondorf felt the weightlessness of being airborne when Link gave a final shove against the sage-blade.
By the time Link rose from the ashes of his near-defeat, Ganondorf had landed several meters away. The king hung stooped, regaining himself onto a knee and steadying himself with his empty fist. Link held his right arm gingerly, his forearm still screaming from the blow to his shield and his fingers trickling with the scent of fresh blood. The wave of energy flowing through him, however, the chanting life of the Master Sword, it numbed all pain, all hopelessness.
Gripping the Master Sword in both hands, he bent a knee and drew the full power of the legendary blade into him, beckoned the might of his soul, a soul strong with the presence of heroes past. The power seemed to tremor through the fields beneath him, and he could feel the energy of Hyrule herself lend him her soul. When the energy peaked in a scarlet whistle at the tip of his blade, Link leapt.
He soared through the air and thrust the Master Sword into a downward strike, the crimson energy already beginning to flood from the steel of its humming blade.
The yellow eyes of the devil looked up. A golden light as fierce as the one coursing through Link’s fist emerged from Ganondorf’s, and the king roared as he cut through the crimson tide with one swish of his blade. The resounding clank of steel grated through the air then, as the king knocked Link’s attack away.
The powerful force of their combined energies staggered them both, Ganondorf collapsing onto his fist again after Link bounced sideways onto the ground. Link, small and limber, recovered first, and he came at Ganondorf once more, relentless. With the king stooped over, Link could at last reach him with a straight swing at his neck.
Ganondorf’s head snapped up in an instant, and Link realized his ruse all too late.
The king had played on his desperation to take the advance. Ganondorf swatted the Master Sword aside with a quick flick of his saber and slammed his knuckles into Link’s face.
Link flew back once more, barely keeping his balance in the mud sucking at his boots, and before he could center his weight, Ganondorf launched toward him, plunging his sword in and batting away the hero’s feeble attempt to block its path. The Master Sword escaped Link’s grasp, taken captive by the puddles forming at his toes. The sage-blade missed him, to Link’s surprise, puncturing only air inches from his neck. Yet, this was all part of Ganondorf’s motive.
In the next moment, Link could not breathe. He felt the jaws of death snaking around his throat, constricting and crushing against him. When he grabbed for his neck, he found the giant fingers of Ganondorf instead. Link’s lips, bloodied from the previous blow, opened and closed, trying in vain to suck in air. He could feel the discs in his neck convulsing against the hand in the attempt to widen his airway, as he sputtered and bit on air he could not capture.
Link’s legs kicked and beat at the arm holding him aloft without result. His fingers pulled and clawed at the tanned skin of the demon’s fist frantically. His fingernails etched lines of blood from the king, digging and scraping like a frightened wolf. His eyes widened at the realization of his situation, the truth that death truly was upon him in a matter of seconds, and every muscle in his body thrashed and flailed in his will to escape, his will to live.
As he kicked and clawed all Link could see were the glowing, thirsty eyes of the devil before him, the last image he would see in a darkening world.
Princess Zelda and the Hylian people had fallen into silence. The princess felt the light of her power, the splendor of the Triforce, tugging at her heart as its sisters warred. Zelda could barely breathe from the sensation burning throughout her bones, realizing that her fright came more from the pulsating cries within her as she watched the hero battle. Seeing Link’s pain, seeing Ganondorf’s power peak only seconds after Link’s had saved him … she knew in her great wisdom that the Triforce would not truly be either’s saving grace. They were two titans fighting for everything their hearts desired, each with the full belief that their cause was just and right. No amount of power had birthed those beliefs.
Link felt the blood boiling and swirling through his head when he lowered a hand to his belt. He fumbled for the hilt of his dagger as his other continued to gnaw at Ganondorf’s flesh, trying its best to lift at least one finger from his neck.
As soon as he could grip his dagger, he cast his arm up to jab its small blade into Ganondorf’s arm. A single nerve twitched and jolted the muscles in his hand, giving Link only momentary relief to suck in a rough, garbled breath before the wind was again closed to him … and more tightly.
Link watched in horror as the king patiently sheathed the sage-blade into the ground to wrap a fist around the dagger protruding near his elbow. Without any sign of pain, Ganondorf excised it and grinned. The lethal sparkle in Ganondorf’s eye frightened Link, and he furiously kicked as he sputtered, trying to knock the dagger from his enemy’s hand.
Ganondorf plunged the dagger into Link’s flailing left leg, and Link felt the warm bite of its steel flood his thigh. A scream convulsed through his throat that emerged with the sound of a gurgled cough. The pain shot through his nerves, but he was thankful of the pain; with it came the evidence that he was still very much alive.
He saw the sneer written across the demon’s face and knew that the king thought it the end of him. He could see the blind claim to victory in his eyes, had seen it from the beginning. But Link would not yield his life, or the lives of Hyrule.
He truly fought to his very last breath.
Wrapping his fingers over the dagger, he removed it, turned its blade about, and drove it into Ganondorf’s wrist…. Deep.
At last, the fingers fell from Link, and the hero collapsed to the ground. He coughed and gasped and sputtered as air once again coursed through his bruised throat. He grasped at his neck, surprised that it pained him to breathe again, the current rubbing against his throat. The numbness that had crept into his lips sent cold tingles through his cheeks, and he could finally feel the tears that had streaked his face.
Link did not linger like this for long, however, for he watched as Ganondorf pulled the dagger from his wrist and toss it aside. The king did not remove his stare from Link as he slowly grasped the hilt of the sage-blade.
The Master Sword glimmered nearby in the rain, but as soon as Link started for it, he felt a tug on his shoulder, raising him only partially from the ground. Before Link’s eyes could focus on the image of the sage-blade before him, he felt its sting as Ganondorf smacked its hilt across his face.
The blow sent Link reeling back to the ground, blood flying from his mouth and nose. He choked on its metallic taste only for a moment before he again saw the shinning surface of his weapon. Left hand holding the bleeding wound on his leg, Link tried to banish all thought of his wounds as he resumed crawling for the Master Sword, the blade that would end all suffering.
The moment his right hand landed on its hilt, Ganondorf stomped down.
Lightning pierced the sky and Link’s deafening scream became its thundering response. Every bone in his hand crackled and bent with the weight of the king’s boot. Tears cascaded down Link’s soiled cheeks as the fingers of his opposite hand flexed and grabbed at the boot weakly in answer to the pain. He tried to grab up the Master Sword then, but it was trapped along with his hand.
The scream that had echoed across the field reached the small camp where Telma watched over the horde of wounded Hylians. She looked to Shad, who had remained at her side to help defend the weak, for even with the armies at a standstill, Telma had not trusted the respite. She looked to the young scholar then, terror grasping at the features of her strong, round face. Together, they took up arms and raced across the plain, leaving the remaining soldiers to protect those fallen.
Telma and Shad jostled through the crowds, but when they reached the head of the throng at Auru’s side and saw Link struggling on the ground, the hum of the looking glass stole their breath away. Shad froze and dropped his sword. Telma looked to Auru. Her eyes searched for hope, but he had none to return in the dull shine of his. He turned his gaze upon the nearby Rusl. Auru could see that every fiber that held his soul together was slowly tearing away, a part of himself dying each time Link screamed or moaned in pain beneath the tyrant.
Worse yet were the eyes of Princess Zelda. The girl Auru had known had long since diminished. She was a woman grown now, a queen in waiting. She had conquered so much since the time of their farewells; she had seen the death of her father and been given the responsibility of every life in Hyrule. She had borne the weight proudly and honorably. She had done everything right; she had set aside pride, surrendering to a usurper, to keep her people from harm. She had been wise, working in secret, hanging her hopes on a hero until the day she was again free from evil’s grasp.
No teacher could have ever been more proud of a student than Auru of his princess. She had done everything for the prosperity of her people, and she wept in the fear that all her suffering had been for naught … undone by this single moment.
Zelda could not help thinking that Midna had been right all along. As she stood by, helpless, looking on as Link struggled, she could only wonder what could have happened had she not surrendered, had she not given in to the will of Zant so easily. Would it have changed anything?
What had she done? Link bore the mark of the goddesses. He was the chosen hero, but she could not help feeling responsible.
Cracks against her hope began to form, and she found herself doing the only thing she could.
Hand against her heart … she prayed.
The King of Evil reveled in the feeling of Link’s tiny hand beneath him and the hero’s squirming body trying in vain to pry his foot away. He could feel this boy’s agony radiate up through him, and it filled him with pleasure. The sense of bliss he felt whenever he saw pain in the eyes of those beneath him never waned. Each encounter left him feeling stronger. It was intoxicating.
The descendant…. The one who had put the gears of his defeat into motion all those years ago….
At last. Justice.
“You have his eyes,” bellowed the demon, remembering, and Link stopped for a moment, staring up into eyes poisoned with memory. “Those … blue eyes….” Ganondorf’s hand tightened around his sword. It was as if that boy of ten were the one lying beneath him now, stricken with defiance. “Those willful eyes.” The memory conjured with it an intense anger, one he had held strong in his black heart ever since the day the armies of the old king of Hyrule had subdued him. His jaw clenched and his eyes hardened under his wild hair. His scowl turned to one of pure hatred, and when he spoke, it was as if he addressed that small boy long since gone from the world. The words came slowly, each syllable filled to the brim with passionate wrath. “Did you truly think a small boy greater than a king?”
With that, Ganondorf launched his blade downward without warning….
And Link howled a furious and desperate roar, kicking at the blade as it descended.
His boot impacted the blade so forcefully that it flew to the side and imbedded in the ground beside him. Surprised by the might of the boy, Ganondorf reeled to the side and staggered there a moment.
Link breathed easier when the weight of the demon lifted, but the damage had been done. Every finger and every bone in his hand had been crushed and twisted. Seeing the breaks caused a new surge of pain that he was barely able to control as he lifted his hand and huddled it close to his stomach. Turning with the aid of his elbow instead, he grabbed onto the Master Sword with his proper hand and pushed himself up. He twirled the blade, testing the weight of it again.
Ganondorf sneered and waved him on. His hollow laugh taunted Link.
But Link did not take the bait.
No longer could Link defend against his strongest attack. If Ganondorf charged and managed to lock blades again, Link knew that without the aid of his right hand, he would not have the strength to resist. He realized now that he had never quite had the advantage in this battle, but now his odds were greatly diminished … and would continue to do so if he did not defeat the king soon.
Agility would be Link’s only ally, as it often was with the foes he had faced in the past. He had to take care to mind his surroundings and listen to his instincts as he studied Ganondorf. The king was patient in his movements, and Link mirrored this. He would wait for the demon to attack and find a break in his offense.
After several moments ticked by, Ganondorf and Link circling each other … watching, waiting … the king grew restless. The boy thought to outwit him, he surmised. He had studied. He had learned.
Ganondorf hummed a growl. He would make the boy suffer for his insolence, for thinking himself better than a king.
A burst of speed carried the demon across the battlefield, and Link knew by the way his feet fell that the king would thrust. The Hylian dodged to the right as the king’s attack fell. Ganondorf swung wide and Link ducked and slashed at his toes. The king responded with a quick sidestep and downward slash, only to be diverted by the Master Sword.
With that parry Link launched into a set of attacks, but the king never seemed to tire. Wherever his blade soared, the sage-blade was there to block his assault. Every thrust, each wide arc, and a barrage of slices both horizontal and vertical … all parried with little effort and with Link only managing to catch the cape of the king so that by the time Ganondorf swung for his head, the fabric had been reduced to ribbons fluttering in the wind and hanging on the mist.
As Link ducked to escape Ganondorf’s last attack, the glowing white scar stretching the length of the king’s breast drew his attention. The Master Sword seemed to hum in response to Link’s thoughts, hungering for the strike that would render its service complete.
Link thrust for the king’s wounded heart, but Ganondorf was in motion. The blade missed its mark and sunk deep into the demon’s arm. The stab throbbed and sent waves of jolting pain through his body. The feeling brought on more rage than misery, however, and Link could see the torches of his hatred burn afresh. The Hylian retrieved his blade just as the king swung at his head, skipping back a few steps to give him some room to breathe and study the king’s next move.
The rains came harder when the demon snarled. He had delighted in the boy’s struggle in the beginning, but now his only pleasure would be to see the light of this hero suffocated.
And he knew exactly how to bait Link.
Ganondorf gripped the sage-blade in a firm two-handed hold, exaggerating the motion slightly so that the hero would take his cue.
Link had been dreading the appearance of this stance, but he held fast to his ground some meters away. Link knew how to break free of this attack before it would be unleashed.
And then the demon charged the hero.
In the last seconds, Ganondorf reared his blade high and swung down swiftly, met by Link’s dodging leap to the side, where he prepared an attack. However, this was just the response Ganondorf had expected, and before Link could realize his deception, the king shifted his bearings and sent his fist flying into the boy’s chest.
Wind broke free of Link’s lungs as he sailed and landed in the mud some distance away. A resounding crack had sounded when knuckles had met his chest, and the dazed Link could not comprehend. His mind when numb and his fingers relaxed over the hilt of his blade. His eyes felt heavy, but even as he fought the sudden bleariness … his sapphire eyes closed.
The hero had fallen for the final time.
Princess Zelda gasped when Link had collapsed. Her hand still clutched her chest in prayer, but tears soaked her cheeks anew in seeing Link once more beaten to the ground.
Rusl’s heart fluttered, and he, too, felt faint. His jaw dropped in a silent cry. He could not believe that through all Link’s hardships, through all his victories, that it would all end like this. He wanted to call out to Link, to will him to rise again, but each time he tried to form the words, his tongue turned to sand and he could not speak.
No one breathed as they watched on, praying by some miracle that their hero would rise, but … Link lay motionless under the rain and shadows.
From some distant place, a voice seeped into the fallen boy of Ordon.
“…Your time has come, young warrior, to attest the name of Hero….”The voice rattled and echoed into Link’s Hylian ears, and words he had vowed to live by vibrated into the core of his being.
“If you falter, will you remember to pick yourself back up?”
Link sputtered to life at those words, holding his chest with his wounded right hand. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move, and he realized that the blow to his chest had likely fractured a rib.
Ganondorf approached him, and Link tried to rise, gripping tightly to the Master Sword once more. In the instant Link had managed to lift his back, Ganondorf kicked his chin and sent him reeling onto his side. He cringed at the stabbing pain that coursed through his chest. Lying on his left shoulder, he did not have a good angle to defend himself against Ganondorf, and he feared the fatal strike surely to come any moment now.
He clutched tight to his chest and his sword when the King of Evil spoke. “Look around you, boy,” he gloated. “Hyrule has lost all hope in its hero.”
Involuntarily, Link looked out to the many faces surrounding him beyond the barrier. Rusl was there, at the head of the group, eyes wide in terror. Auru, Telma, and Shad. They all stood by with eyes lit in sorrow. Even Ashei, cold-hearted Ashei, who had gathered with the knights next to the general, remained silent, tears hidden in the rain. The general clenched his jaw tight, trying hard to be the soldier, to be the strong leader everyone needed him to be. And then there was Princess Zelda. Beautiful and wise Zelda, clinging to her beating heart, tears drenching her face. Everyone Link had come to care for, frozen in fear, forced to watch as he had fallen time and again at the might of Ganondorf. What the king had said was true. Link could see that hope had abandoned them, and the shame he felt in that moment outweighed any pain.
“Today, you die,” said Ganondorf, his words colored with the song of triumph.
Is this the end? thought Link.
That was when he saw it.
“Midna…” he gasped.
There, beside him, were the scattered pieces of Midna’s helm, the last bits that remained of his companion. His heart clenched in his chest, and it was harder to breathe. How strange it was that they would be together again like this, lying broken at the end of the world. He wanted to reach out and touch those shards, but his only free hand was as shattered as her memory.
No, not her memory. Link could remember every day with her, from beginning … to end. The way she had sneered at him then, the way the sparkle in her red eye had brought anger to his heart. And then the moment everything had changed. The days her sneer had turned into a smile and her eye had glistened with care. She had always been there. She had been the one to catch him when he fell, to remind him of his oath, remind him of the countless lives depending on him … on them.
Midna had always said they had to save the light realm, and she had died believing in that. She had died believing in Link. She had died trying to do some good, to be as selfless as he had been.
She had died so Link could live.
Link’s eyes burned from tears dripping down the sides of his face, and he turned away from the broken Fused Shadow to lie on his back. He looked up, numb to every pain except the one he felt at the memory of losing Midna. He felt the rain beat against him and welcomed the feeling.
The kingdom of Hyrule wept for its fallen hero … wept with him.
He could feel the ground quaking, could feel the booming weight of Ganondorf as the king took slow steps toward him, but Link was numb to the coming of his doom. As he looked up into the darkness clouding the dawn, he could only see Midna, and it was as if she had always been there, hovering above him. He thought he saw her then, flying down to meet his gaze, to heal his hurts, smiling her toothy grin, to take his hand and lift him to his feet. He closed his eyes and could almost feel her small fingers against his cheek. “What is the one vow you swore to keep?” she was asking. Link went to cup his hand over hers and wept anew when he found she was not there.
He opened his eyes and saw Ganondorf’s frame towering above him. But Link looked beyond him, into the storm, into the shadows, remembering the warmth of the Twilight Realm.
“…For both our realms,” he vowed softly.
It was then that all the terror he had once felt at facing death--at facing Ganondorf--fell away, and he found his true courage, the kind of strength that lived in legends.
“I will save Hyrule even if it means my life.”Link remembered saying those words to a very small child and the hope it had bestowed.
This King of Evil owned the goddesses’ ultimate power, perhaps, but Link had been blessed with a very special gift. The power of courage flowed through his veins, and he had endowed that same strength and will to live, the everlasting and unbreakable hope for the dawn of a new day, in every soul of Hyrule.
As fear collapsed, the Hero rose.
In the breadth of an eye-blink, Ganondorf thrust his blade at Link just as he leapt to his feet and thrust for the demon’s heart.
The moment hung as their audience gasped then watched with bated breath.
Link’s brows had furrowed as he looked up into the eyes of the demon, a face only inches from his. Link panted through his nostrils before his bloodied lips parted to catch his heaving breath. His chest was killing him, his body past the threshold of bearable pain. But he stood firm against his pain … the eyes of the king looking down on him. Slowly, the creases in Ganondorf’s brow faded as his eyes widen with confusion. His triumphant smirk sunk, and a question took its place, unspoken but lingering on the king’s lips, one that would ask the hero … How?
Ganondorf’s shock soon turned to rage as he felt the humming twinge of the Master Sword coursing through his body. He staggered back and Link’s hands fell from the hilt of the blade piercing his heart.
In the same moment, Link felt a tide of nausea as a slicing pain ebbed from his side. He cupped his broken hand over the searing ache in his left side and saw the blood dripping from the sage-blade before he noticed the crimson trickling through the gaps of his fingers. He realized what it meant, but he turned his attention back to Ganondorf nonetheless, doing his best to hide the gravity of his wound from his audience.
Ganondorf stumbled, dropping the sage-blade onto the tainted field. With his right hand he grabbed for the Master Sword, its blade pushed so far into him that guard had met fabric. His fingers flexed around its hilt, and he found himself unable to touch it, unable to pull it. The feeling left him weak as he gasped and fell to his knees.
He caught himself with a fist, trying to steady his weight, trying to rise as he was meant to. A king did not kneel, and yet he stooped there, unable to remove his pain.
He screamed, prolonged…. And in that bellow, a thousand memories flooded back within an instant.
He remembered what it had felt like … the cold, hard sting of metal lighting his bones on fire. A long time ago … the sages had been the ones to face him at the edge of a sword.
But they had not been able to kill him, not he, the Wielder of ultimate Power. Not he. His power had pulsed anew within him when their sacred blade had pierced his heart. He had always looked to that day as one that had renewed him somehow, for the power within him was a godly thing, and it had run the river of his being and rekindled him in his darkest hour.
Not this time.
Before, when the sages had pierced his heart, he had been rejuvenated with a vigor that uplifted his darkened soul. He had cheated death. The gods had allowed it. But now….
Grunting, Ganondorf pushed himself up slowly, inch-by-inch, and glared down to find the eyes of Link … the eyes of that boy…. In Link’s eyes he saw the understanding of what he felt. He knew what it was without having ever felt it before--though approaching its distinct line closely during his lifetime. He had never truly crossed that line until now.
He was dying….
The white scar upon his chest pulsed with a replenished glow, the hole in his darkness that marked his existence and what he had spent his lifetimes trying to achieve.
With his power he should have been able to excise this pathetic blade, this dagger of a sword, but he did not have the energy to pull it forth from his body. Was this what death did upon its approach? Did it truly drain one’s energy before pulling the soul into its final plummet into forever darkness? Or was it some other kind of magic?
Staggering, he used his last rasping breaths of life to glower at his executioner. “Do not think it ends here…” he growled, gasping.
Was it that he wanted to press into Link a false but lasting fear of his return … a return that would never come? Or was it true that he may find a way to resurrect himself in the Netherworld as he had done within the Twilight?
His eyes drooped as he nearly tripped, but he gritted his teeth against the blood that seeped through them and down his chin. He peeled his eyes open once again, struggling on his words. “The history of light and shadow will be written in blood!” he proclaimed to Link and all who bore witness.
He fell forward slightly as he spoke but kept himself upright, panting for his breaths to sustain him just a little longer. But his right hand tingled, and when he looked down … his worst fear….
The Power of the Triforce faded from him, and his eyes felt heavier than the world.
Suddenly, he could hear a faint humming that soon rose into distinct voices, and so it was that he could hear the pure song of his gods.
His hands fell to his sides. His chest heaved. His breaths crackled. As they sang to him, he wanted to fight the feelings that came over him, but it was some kind of … peace … that began to consume him as their lullaby soothed him in his final moments. The corners of his mouth fell, and his face grew blank, ears alight with the gentle harmonies of his gods. He watched as the dark clouds in the dawning sky faded and the thunder receded.
It was always darkest before the dawn; that was a law of nature.
And then--
His head jerked back when the pain of his wound pervaded his numbness, its whiteness fading into a black nothingness. His eyes grew white as a perfect cloud. His breath escaped forever, and his head fell forward gently, chin resting against his armor.