I hope you liked it. I've never seen this done before, so I thought it would be nice. We'll get more into deeper detail a little bit later.
Chapter 2
(The Killer)
Despite having never lived in the barren desert surroundings before, Marikir certainly learned fast. In exchange for his servitude, the Gerudos had agreed to show him all they knew. The secrets of their trade were at his disposal. The first few days were especially rough to him, because of Titani's constant anger and belittlement. He learned quickly never to get in her way, and to stay around the queen, who seemed to favor him. Why she favored him, he did not know. She always said he was going to help her to rule all the land…A few weeks passed, and Marikir became a Gerudo himself. Becoming a thief was easy for him as he had already had a lot of practice. It was his former occupation, after all.
Soon, he earned reasonable respect. He met Mirami every few days, sometimes popping in when she didn't expect him. There was one day when he found her that she had been especially angry. She was in a restricted room, one reserved for the guardians of the Spirit Temple. As he made his dramatic entry, she gasped, hiding all she was looking at and quickly using a deku nut to disappear. He followed, but she had never told him what it was she was looking at.
He had learned over the past week who the figures were behind the veiled curtain. The tallest was, in fact, the queen. She was his mistress, the one whom he had to obey, or face the consequences. The lowest he already knew as Titani, the queen's advisor. She was rather mean, and for some reason she seemed to hate him. The middle one he was told was the princess. This puzzled him, and he wished he could figure out why he had never seen her.
In a few days, an annual battle tournament would be held. The winner received a gift from the princess herself. Marikir was very excited about this. He had secretly been training in his spare time, and he was confident that he could win if given the chance. Anyone could enter, so it wasn't a problem that he was a slave. The only problem was the Gerudo's attack patterns. The women had a special attack…one that he couldn't figure out. If anyone was hit by this attack, he or she wouldn't be able to recover, but would instantly fall.
Marikir had desperately tried to figure out how this attack was accomplished, but no matter how hard he tried, his goal just seemed further and further away. The women did have a tattletale sign that gave away when they were about to execute this attack. They would bend down and hold their energy for a moment before unleashing it with a jump. The women all used the same forms of attack, and most of them used the same weapon too. It was a sharpened scimitar. It was curved, and would cut into you like a knife through butter. Marikir knew, because he had been nicked with it more than once.
He began to forge his own weapon, a large sword. It was turning out to be so big he was afraid he wouldn't be able to use it. He knew if Titani caught him forging it, she would consider it treason against the crown, so he hid it where he knew no one would dare to look. Inside his own quarters, where the dust was so thick it could choke you, and lice crawled on the sparse furnishings. No one ventured to set foot inside, except for him, of course. Therefore, it was the perfect place to keep his sword hidden.
He ran a finger across the blade, and winced as he drew back. A few drops of blood ran down his hand, dripping onto the floor. Well, at least he knew it worked. It may have been extremely heavy and hard to carry, but it certainly looked menacing enough. He chuckled at the thought of his name. Dorf… What a funny thought. His mind wandered further to ponder what was to become of him. He began to think back onto his family, a flashback entered his mind.
"You're hard enough on him, Kinsu...please give him a rest." Marikir wiped a bit of sweat off his brow. The desert sun was nearly unbearable to such a young unprotected child.
"Mira..." The man stepped forward, clutching his son's shoulder and speaking with a thick Hylian accent. "He has to learn to fend for himself. What with the rumors about the war."
"Hush!" The woman cast her husband a dark forboding glance. "Our son should not hear such things." She was indeed beautiful, in fact, Mark considered his mother to be quite the vision. Her long shimmering hair was frazzled from the heat, but her soft gentle eyes gave him all the comfort he needed. "There will be no war. The king will not allow it. You know that."
The man was strong, and rugged. His features were harsh, and albeit unfeeling. Beneath his own dark orbs, a faint sense of kindess could be felt only through specific moments. Marikir looked to his father as if he were an original creator of Hyrule. He gave his wife a quick glance, and his gaze became tranquil. "You're right, Mira. There shall be no war. I will never be torn apart from you..."
As Mark would soon see, there was indeed a war. A small fight, but a battle just the same. His father had died soon after that, protecting their part of Hyrule, even to giving his life. He had promised that he would fight for the desert race, the Gerudo...and so he did, even to the death. Soon after this, his mother caught a sickness, something no doctor had ever seen before. She also passed away with the rise of winter. Mark could still see the man's face...he had seen his father die, and remembered who it was that stabbed him through the heart. The blonde boy...a young knight, a warrior for Hyrule. His sapphire eyes burned with a sense of justice that Mark had never seen, except in his own father's. They had fought for a long time, and Mark watched fearfully from a distance...this knight...something about him...he couldn't have been more than sixteen. They must have drafted him...and that's why Kinsu held back. That was why he died.
"Marikir…" The flap of cloth that served as a door to his room flew open as Mirami stepped inside. "How could you do this?"
"Do what?" he asked, cocking his head. He couldn't understand why she sounded so upset, and was still letting his memories take refuge in the back of his mind for later.
"Do this…you signed up for the tournament. You can't win! You don't know how to fight, much less how to fight us…"
"I've been studying." He began to clean his sword, polishing it to a sparkling sheen with a cloth. "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing." He smiled at her, and willingly showed her his weapon.
"Where on earth did you get that? It's beautiful!" Mirami exclaimed, taking a step closer.
"I've had this for a while. I made it myself last month." He blinked, and bit his lip in thought. "I know I can win."
"Why do you want to win, anyway?" Mirami asked.
"If I win, I can find out who the princess is. She has to reward me. Therefore, I intend to win. Her mystery intrigues me. I must know who she is."
"Is that all? Curiosity?" she asked. "Just…out of my curiosity, does your weapon have any weaknesses?" She turned away from him and stared at the ceiling.
"Weaknesses? No. Although, it is quite heavy. I lose my footing easily when I wield it."
"Really?" Mirami turned and gave him a shy smile. "Then…well, don't get your hopes up to win, okay? But…I…I hope you get past the first round." She blinked, her heart pounding inside her. Quickly leaning forward, she lightly kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck." She blushed and took her leave.
Marikir was unsure of what had just happened. It took him a moment to realize what Mirami had done. He held a hand to his cheek and slung his sword over his broad shoulder. He wouldn't have entered the tournament if it had taken place when he first arrived. All the hard work, the hours of slaving in the hot sun, sweating blood and crying salty tears, had given him strength. Not just physical strength, either. It was given him strength of heart and resolve…
Later that day, he took his place in line with the other competitors, an emotionless stare plastered onto his face. He was in a line of about twenty or so competitors, including Titani, who happened to be right beside him.
"What's the matter, are you scared? You never should have entered this contest in the first place," she hissed.
"I will fight you eventually." Marikir crossed his arms, and kept a steady temper as he stared at the referee, who was preparing to give directions. "And when I do…" He turned his head towards her and slit his eyes together. "I won't lose."
Titani searched her mind for a comeback, but could not find one. "We shall see." She turned back to her original position, and unsheathed her scimitar as she readied for the preliminary rounds. "Oh yes…we shall see."
The referee signaled for full attention. "Alright. This is how the battles are to take place. There will be a preliminary round, a first round, followed by a second, and finally, the third. There will be one winner and one winner only. There will be no foul play. These are to be good, clean matches. Weapons are allowed, of any kind." She signaled for the start. "All of you who are wearing a white piece of cloth, head to those rings. You are the preliminary match fighters. Only one of you will emerge victorious."
Sadly, Marikir was wearing a piece of white cloth, "shouting" for all to hear that he was a so-called novice. He took his place, versus another white-clothed woman, who revealed her face and readied the weapon of choice for the women…a scimitar. "I won't back down," Marikir warned her. He was surprised to see her, though. She couldn't have been more than sixteen. A teenager, and she was already fighting?
"Neither will I." She brandished her weapon, readying for the clang of the gong that would signal them to begin. Her eyes gave away her nervous nature though, for they continued to flit up towards his sword and back to him. "If you beat me, you go to the first round and wear an orange mark…I cannot have that. If you earn that honor, you are allowed to become a guard in the fortress. I have been training since I was five for that opportunity, and I won't let someone like you…"
Her speech was interrupted mid-sentence by a sudden yelp as she was flipped over by Marikir's sword. He bent over her, pinning her down with the massive weight of the weapon. "You talk too much."
The girl gasped, and began to struggle as the gong reverberated through the air. Her tiny form slipped under Marikir's knees like a snake. "Do I?" She bent down, and began to store her energy for the trademark attack. A small crowd began to gather, and the spectators laughed at the man.
Marikir turned around, and spotted something he could use to his advantage…if he could only time it right. He noticed her hood lying on the ground, and figured the statistics. In exchange, he quickly found himself with a headache. He shrugged his shoulders and dropped his sword, waiting for the girl's battle cry.
He didn't have to wait long. With a leap, the girl flew into the air, coming straight down, her scimitar pointed at him. Marikir ran, and leaped into the air, landing on her hood. He slid as he had planned, the slick sand giving him an edge. As his momentum slowed, he jumped off, rolling to the side a few times before the girl came down, within inches of his feet.
She jerked her head upwards and laughed, beginning to rise. "You're too close, you fool! You played right into my hands!" She was pulled back midway. "Huh?" She tried to stand again, and a second time was pulled back. "Wha! No!" Her sword had sunken into the thick sand and was now too deep to pull out with her strength. "No! No! No!"
The referee stepped into the large ring, and headed for Marikir, giving him an orange piece of cloth. "The winner is…Dorf!" Catcalls and boos surrounded him, but he didn't mind. He glanced towards the royal spectators, and caught a glimpse of the princess. She waved a handkerchief in the air towards him, and then placed her hands in her lap. The referee directed him towards the side to wait for the other competitors. "Prepare for round two, we'll begin as soon as the others finish!"
Marikir was a bit surprised. He never expected to fight again so soon after the preliminary rounds. After a few minutes, he was in the first round. Hah. He told Titani he could. Mirami believed he would. He couldn't let her down. With a smile, he readied his sword. The woman that faced him in the first round was much older, perhaps the queen's age. She had a unique weapon, a circle hoop with blades surrounding it. She intricately began to weave it back and forth, and charged towards him the instant the gong rang.
Marikir did a quick back flip, bending his back towards the audience as the razor-sharp blades passed his chin. "Whoo…" He slid through her legs. "That was too close for comfort."
The woman spun the bladed circle, and heaved it with all her strength towards him. "Take that!"
Marikir ducked, and began to laugh. "You missed me!"
The woman smiled slyly, and Marikir soon figured out why. As he straightened, the returning weapon sliced into his arm, cleanly cutting through his skin. "Argh!" he stifled a cry of pain, and instinctively clutched the wound. The weapon returned to the woman's side.
"Like my boomerang?" she asked in a cocky voice.
Marikir lifted his sword over his head and began to rush her. Rage had filled him fully, replacing all thoughts of logic and reasoning. Like a wildfire, he was an inferno of strikes and parries. Lifting his sword again over his head, he threw it down, the loud clang of the weapons clashing echoed throughout the desert. Sweat began to trickle down his forehead, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. Though he was extremely tired, he had decided he had to win. He pushed with all his strength; she tried to counter his strike. He was too strong for her to block, and she faltered, as her weapon was knocked out of her hand. In a flash, Marikir readied his sword at her neck. "I win."
This time, the applause was a bit greater; he even received a few cheers. Smiling, he turned towards the referee.
"There will be a few minutes for you to prepare…" She presented him with a red piece of cloth. "Be back here in about five, alright?"
"Alright." Marikir smiled, and pinned the red cloth on his chest. He immediately set off for his house, bandaging his shoulder where it had been sliced open, and waiting for Mirami to congratulate him. He had made it past the first two rounds after all.
To his complete surprise, Mirami did not come. He waited longer than he should have for her, knowing for certain that she would come eventually…wouldn't she? He waited impatiently…but she did not come. Sure, he was depressed, at least a few moments, but he reasoned that something must have come up. Either way, he returned to the fighting ring, only to spot the challenger already waiting for him.
This was the biggest amazement of all. The challenger was only a young girl, of ten or perhaps twelve years of age. She blinked her large eyes towards him, looking up until she reached his eye contact. "Are you going to fight me?"
Marikir couldn't think of what to say. "I…suppose so. You're a red rank?" he asked, hoping that there had been some sort of mistake.
"Yup! I'm the highest ranking of the reds." The girl proudly crossed her arms, and revealed her weapon. It was a very slender bow and arrow set. "Good luck!" She readied an arrow to the bow with a smile.
Marikir was so stunned by her attitude that he did not know what to say. "Right…good luck to you too."
The loud bong of the gong sounded, and an arrow whizzed past Marikir's ear. This was quickly followed by another that penetrated his cloak. "Wha…" He dodged yet another, trying to remember all he had trained with. His mind wandered to Mirami as he tried to defend against the onslaught of arrows. "Where is she?" he wondered. "Surely she's in the crowd." His eyes scanned the large groups of onlookers. He…couldn't see her. What on earth? He tried to relax his muscles, but he couldn't help but be distracted.
"Got it!" the girl chirped, chuckling as she threaded another arrow to her bow, letting it go with a twang.
Marikir stood, paralyzed for a split second. That split second was his downfall. With a powerful thwock, the arrow struck his shoulder, the feathered tip barely visible. Pain shocked him out of his paralyzed state, and he jolted upwards, His hand flew to cover the wound, where blood had already begun to leak out of his tight fingers. Quickly assessing the damage, he determined it was just a flesh wound, and not mortally dangerous, albeit painful. The crowd gasped, and silence reigned like an ominous rain cloud hovering over a picnic.
"Hah! Bulls-eye!" the girl exclaimed, clapping her hands in joy.
Marikir managed a struggled smile. "You got me, alright. You have one problem, though."
"Huh? What?" the girl questioned, a quizzical look on her face.
"You may…" He groaned and winced as he stood. "You may have got me….but you didn't annihilate me. You're out of ammo."
The girl blinked in blatant bewilderment. "Wha?" She reached back, but she couldn't grab anything, her hands connected with thin air. Her eyes widened in panic, but she contained herself. "I'll fight you with my hands then."
Marikir tilted his head in mild amusement. "Okay then…" He gritted his teeth and hoisted his sword over his shoulders with an effort. "Come on…"
The little girl may have been young, but she was not stupid. She made a final check to see that she had run out of arrows, and when she was positive she had, she fell to her knees before him. "Well done. You have beaten me. I submit. I hereby forfeit the match to you."
The referee cheered with the crowd as a few scarves flew into the air. "Dorf is the winner!" The queen stood up and nodded, pleased with the outcome. "Dorf!" the referee stated as she pinned a black piece of cloth on his chest. "You are now a rank of the queen's guard…one of the highest available…"
Marikir was happy, but something was bothering him. Mirami still had not revealed herself…where could she be? Secondly, all the battles had seemed…just a bit too easy. Like they had been all set up, and the outcome planned. He sighed softly, but continued to keep a determined outlook… He broke off the arrow and gently wiggled it out of the wound, and tied the piece of cloth he had just been given tightly around his shoulder. Testing it gingerly, he frowned, knowing he would have to be careful. His shoulder was already beginning to stiffen, and he would not have full range of movement in the next match. Thankfully, though, the blood loss had been minimal, and would not weaken him greatly.
The final round was in a huge ring, allowing for much more movement. As he entered solemnly, he grimaced at his opponent…he should have known.
"You?" Titani glowered at him, and crossed her arms. "I refuse to fight you. You're an inferior man, for heaven's sake!" she hissed.
"What, afraid you might lose?" Marikir asked tauntingly, brandishing his sword. He noticed Titani giving a second glance towards the princess as the two exchanged looks. "Don't worry; I'll make this as painless as possible."
The gong sounded, so loud and so foreboding that it took each of them a moment to react. Titani was the first to attack, whirling her two blades in such quick succession that it was hard to distinguish whether it was just the wind or the actual blade. Marikir fought back with his blade, but it was no use. He couldn't find an open spot to attack. He faced her, and swung his sword back for a quick strike.
Titani smirked, and ducked down low, sweep kicking Marikir and chuckling evilly. "Have a nice trip!"
"Wha…" He fell back, landing with a thud on the sand. "How!" He let go of his sword, and faced her as she cornered him and pinned him with her twin swords. "How did you know my weakness?"
Titani laughed, and threw a bit of sand into his face, blinding him. "Oh, a little birdie told me."
"A little birdie? What do you mean? Who told you?" he demanded, the gritty sand burning his eyes. "You're cheating! Throwing sand is bad form!"
Titani smirked. "Obviously, I don't care!" Her gaze shifted to the onlookers, and she bent in towards his face, dragging out every word. "You really want to know who told me? Think about who you told…….."
This hit Marikir harder than any physical blow.. Mirami! She was the only one he had told about his lack of balance with the heavy sword. Who else could have known? It had to be her! It couldn't be anyone else…but why? Why would she…he got to his feet, and bowed his head. "You win…I forfeit. I have no further reason to fight."
Titani mocked him with more taunting words and laughter than she had ever used before. He dejectedly dragged his sword off the field, ignoring the cat calls and boos that surrounded him on all sides. He no longer cared about any of it…Mirami had betrayed him. That stunning certainty was all he needed to know.
