Ok. Let me start by saying that this is by no means the final edition of this chapter. It's not to say I think it's bad, but it still needs improvement. I think as well that sometime soon I'm going to edit all three chapters that are up. This chapter's also a little short because I split it into two. Next part should be ready soon!

O)oo(O

A'ielio.

From what he could tell, it meant 'The Eye'.

There wasn't much mention of it in the Kingsrecord. He'd scoured it at least four times, and what little there was in the first hundred volumes was not enough. It had passed from faint memory to fiction to impossibility. It was implausible that without a constant maintenance across the centuries it would have remained standing.

A hidden fortress deep in the desert, seeming lost for generations, it was said to contain documents on everything the Gerudo had ever known about magic, both for everyday use and that which was forbidden.

And Ganondorf had stumbled across it. The tall front of the building was cut deeply into the sandstone of the plateau: from afar, it might look a little irregular, but anyone nearby would probably not figure it to demand their attention.

If there were anyone nearby.

This far deep into the desert, Gerudo City was a little more than two weeks' journey. Perhaps the furthest he had been, and perhaps a little reckless in this time of civil war.

He'd almost been recognised in that last settlement. Well, that was fine, he could take another route back, now that he knew which way he was going. Of course, if he could have it his way, he would journey ever deeper. Future responsibility clung to him like a leash.

He dismounted from his horse, pulling his scarf from around his face. The architecture was amazing. There was the crude suggestion of pillars, and rough engravings from history. It was a pity that the wind had worn down the images, but he could feel a lingering sense of power about them. This had not been done by a team of stonemasons, but rather one man – the Son of the West Wind.

It was hard to tell who, exactly, beyond that margin. It was old – probably his grandfather or great-grandfather. Before that, he was sure the engravings would have properly dispersed against the elements. The rock bore the marks like scars, suggesting that red magic had been used to hew the rock into shape rather than green magic to chisel away at it over time. Certainly, the design had been refined and improved later, but the first marks on the sandstone were the deepest.

A'ielio was as old as the unification of his people, perhaps even as old as Geru himself, myth-ancestor of the Gerudo. It was ironic that civil war still raged whilst he rediscovered the building that had stood the test of time.

Heading into the building via the small doorway borne by the rock, Ganondorf contained his excitement until he entered the central chamber, a circular room lit with a round skylight. An atmosphere of calm lay heavy over the place, everything seemingly undisturbed. Doubtlessly it had been left the same way for one hundred years.

In the middle of the chamber sat a small oasis, ringed by brick. It hosted many beautiful flowers, each more varied and different from the last. Cautiously, he approached it, sinking down onto one knee for a closer inspection. There was something unnatural about the petals and perfume, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. He'd seen flowers before. There were, of course, ones growing out in the wild on hardy shrubs and cacti, but these were totally different. He suspected they were Hylian. But that still did not explain it. He hoped that if it was something magical – an enchantment of sorts – the secret was in this room.

On the other side of the room there stood an oval mirror that captured his entire form. Amused by his reflection, he smiled, before directing his attention elsewhere. His gaze swept the room. Books and scrolls lined the chamber walls on tall shelves. The amount of knowledge here was staggering. It might take him a year to read everything, let alone understand the concepts.

He hadn't the supplies to stay here. By tomorrow, he had to return to the nearby town to restock for the long journey home. He resolved to take a handful of texts and return sometime in the future.

O)oo(O

He had been followed. The trackers had kept their distance, but now that he was out in the open again, they descended upon him, weapons drawn.

He urged his horse into a gallop, directing it to where the plateaus fell back into the steppes and then into endless, rolling dunes. His first instinct was survival – even with his magical understanding, he had not the power behind his magic to make it matter. Regardless, he sharpened the light around him into red daggers and cast them at the three riders behind him. They were spaced apart so the attack did little to hinder them.

Flattening himself against the body of the horse, Ganondorf retrieved a small book he had taken from A'ielio from his satchel. He read the instructions hurriedly, taking note of the bodily gestures, and turning in the saddle to face his pursuers. Stretching his left arm out and making a fist, he drew his energy back along his arm, and focused it into a point.

To the riders behind him, it probably looked like he was miming drawing a bow, and he could faintly hear laughter. However, when he released his imaginary arrow, a bolt of fire shot towards them. Their horses reared up, but they quickly goaded them back into action. He would need a more permanent distraction. Referring again to his book, Ganondorf alighted upon a different spell, and began the appropriate movements and focused his energy into the right places.

In response, a clawed and evil looking arm shot from the ground, and grabbed one of the pursuers' horses by the leg. Using the momentum, the rest of the body that belonged to the arm came out from under the sand, deftly swinging into the saddle. Quickly disposing of the previous rider, the moblin took the reins and drew a sword with an indiscriminate war cry. The other pursuers shied away with revulsion, but once the monster showed it would continue after them, they took up arms against it.

This gave Ganondorf the perfect moment to put more distance between them. Summoning the moblin had certainly taxed his lifeforce, but it seemed to remain of its own accord. Not sparing a second to look at the monster's handiwork, he sped away, spying the wide-open desert. He would be free.

Were it not for the second group of warriors hiding in ambush and jumped out before him. The startled horse beneath him kicked out in confusion, and tried to shake him off. Resolute, he tightened his grip and dug his heels into its flanks, commanding its direction and whirling around. There had to be some way out. There always was.

There were four of them altogether. The three who had pursued him from A'ielio - minus the unhorsed rider -and the two ambushers that cut him off from the wide-open desert. It would be little competition, even with the moblin on his side. His eyes darted across the sandstone faces of the canyon, and in exasperation he breathed through clenched teeth.

He rode back to A'ielio, towards the moblin and the original pursuers, and again conjured red daggers from the air. He rained them down upon one, whistling for his monster's attention. On the spur of the moment, he turned, directing the moblin to protect him as he continued his escape.

The whistle of an arrow past his ear startled him, and he looked around to see one of his ambushers using a bow. For some reason, he hadn't reckoned on them having weapons of his own. Wary of reaching his lifeforce's limit, he didn't try a counter attack, merely flattening himself against his horse and urging it on faster.

Instead figuring it was better to use his magic as a distraction rather than a direct attack, he pulled out a scroll and hastily read it, taking note of where his energy was best directed. Calling the moblin closer to him, he stirred the air in a lazy circle around them, using a sandstorm to hide them.

Shouts of confusion and bemusement arose, but faded as Ganondorf quickly put distance between them. Although small in size and lacking in power, the screen of sand was adequate to confuse the pursuers. He hoped he would be long gone before the wind died down.

Despite the howling of the storm around them, the eye of the storm was entirely calm, more like a hurricane than a real sandstorm. Putting faith into the protection that his magic had afforded them, Ganondorf allowed his horse to slow.

"I'm sorry," he said, to the horse, patting its neck. His gaze flicked to the moblin, who watched him expectantly. He nodded towards it in acknowledgment.

"And you, thank you," he said aloud.

The monster stared blankly at him, and then with a grunt, placed a fist over its heart. A sign of allegiance. Ganondorf allowed himself a smirk. He wasn't sure how long the moblin would last, but it felt good for something, someone, to have his back.

O)oo(O

Thanks for sticking with me so far!