The Garo's Way
By Ice Sage
Clash!
The sounds of sword beating against sword echoed across Ikana Valley as the beginning rays of the morning sun burst from behind the Stone Tower. It shone upon two figures dueling beside the river, a man against a masked stranger.
The man was a pirate, a marauder who had come to raid Ikana. He had heard of many items such as the mirror shield and the legendary light arrows. He came to take them for his own use. Sweat poured down his forehead and beaded up on his face and in his brown hair. His clothes were once white but were now drenched in sweat and his own blood. In his hand, he held a scimitar, stolen from his rivals, the Gerudo pirates of Great Bay.
The masked one was a Garo, a protector of the Valley. Sensing the evil intentions of the man sneaking about in the night, it burst out of hiding and attacked. It wore flowing, gray robes, yet the garb did not hinder its agile movement. No sign of injury could be told on its body. The color of the robe prevented any sign of perspiration. The being wielded two silver short swords, meant for a quick stab.
My enemy!
The thought raced in the minds of the two combatants.
The man lunged at the Garo with its sword. The ghost easily dodged his blade and attacked with a thrust of its own. Parry followed thrust and thrust followed parry. What was this demon clad in gray? It didn't even seem tired after fighting for half the night.
The Garo broke away from its opponent. Who was this man? Why did he continue on when death was certain for him?
It had one last trick up its sleeve.
Calling upon the magic within, the Garo raised its hands to the sky. Flames spouted out of the ground and surrounded the man and his opponent. He looked around at the fiery wall, dazed at how quickly the battle would now move…..with him as the loser.
He heard the 'clink' of metal swords behind him. He turned around just in time to see the Garo's blades rushing at his throat. Reacting from pure reflexes he raised his weapon…….
…..and plunged it into the Garo's chest.
With a wail, the ghost dropped its swords and sank into a heap onto the hot sands. The man gasped at what he had just done. Trembling, he stood up, removed his weapon from the body and wiped his bloody sword on his tunic.
Blood?
Blood!
A wave of shock came over him. The Garo bled? Was it not a ghost but a living, breathing creature?
Cautiously he approached the dead Garo. Wait. It was still breathing.
"To die………" A voice emerged from the Garo's lifeless form.
"To die………"
The pirate ran his fingers along the being's chest and rested them upon the dark mask. He took hold of a corner. What on earth could be beneath that mask that could fight so well? He was afraid to know.
But he had to know.
He removed the gray mask from the Garo and revealed the face of a beautiful young girl. Black hair poured off of her head and rested on the desert. Her face showed no signs of fatigue, only a desire to sleep. Her brown eyes stared dreamily at him.
"To die………" she whispered. The rest became lost.
He moved his head closer to the girl's face so he could hear her dying words. Suddenly she stirred. She pushed a pale hand through the sleeve of her robe.
She opened it and the man looked in horror at the small, lit bomb that she held in her hand. A small smile spread across her face. She had won the battle after all.
"To die without leaving a corpse."
The bomb exploded, destroying everything in the way of its blast. When the dust cleared no visible sign could be seen of the man nor his opponent. No trace at all, except for a large scimitar and two silver swords lying on the ground.
As the winds sent the ashes of the two scattering across the Valley, a faint whisper could be heard in the breeze.
"That is the way of us Garo."
