Things are looking grim on the scouting mission of the cave in the Faron Woods. Initially there was no activity, but now a large force of bulblins and moblins has arrived, bringing along with them the innocent population of a small village. Rather than let them come to an unknown, probably gruesome fate, the Links are galvanized into action. While they sneak in the back door, reinforcements will be fetched for an attack. But will they be in time to help the villagers, and what chance do they stand against so many enemies?

Green led the others to an old riverbed he'd discovered and showed them the opening he'd found in the bank, so small that Red would have to crawl in on his belly. Cold air came out through it, and inside it was dark and quiet. It wasn't far from the cave, and if it stayed in this direction it seemed like it would connect with the hideout.

"I'll go in first and check it out," said Purple. "I can move the best in there." He accepted the unlit lantern from Blue, hung it on his belt with a hook the tinker had added just for this purpose, and entered the hole in a low stoop. Quickly he was out of sight, swallowed by the hole, and remained that way for a few minutes. Then the child's return was announced by the lantern's light approaching around a slight bend. He stepped around the corner and beckoned to them. "It's tight quarters at first, but it gets bigger further in. So far so good."

One by one they squeezed after him into the chilly earth. Fine tree and plant roots grew from the ceiling, brushing their hats. Thankfully there was indeed more head room when they turned the corner, but Red and Blue were still forced to hunch and squeeze through a series of fissures in the jagged path. Following that was another slight bend, but they were still heading towards the cave—their time in the Sheikah catacomb had sharpened their senses of direction. The tunnel sloped slightly downward as they moved along. It opened to a cave before them, and the lantern illuminated a wide, deep subterranean crevasse that cut across their path.

"This is as far as I got," said Purple.

"Makes it look like they don't use this for a back door," Red commented. "But how do we cross?"

"I can fly it," answered the mystic.

"That tree root, there," said Green, pointing to the large, gnarled wooden finger that hung from the ceiling on the far side. "I can get that with the hookshot."

Blue peered at the target he indicated and hooked the lantern on his waist. "I see it. I think I can get my grappling hook around that and swing across." He turned to the giant. "That just leaves you, big guy. I'll throw the rope back across and you can swing."

Purple cast his spell, changing his form into that of an amethyst-colored fairy. Easily he flew straight across the ravine, dropping a couple of motes into its abyss that darkened long before they had any hope of reaching the bottom. His flight was effortless, but drove home how deep and dark the gap was in the short time it took him to reach the far side. There he countered the spell, and turned back to watch the others cross. Green had the hookshot in hand, sighting carefully on the tree root. With a clack and a spring he triggered it, proving his aim once again as the end found purchase in his mark. Its chain ratcheted and yanked him across the crevasse and up to the ceiling, from whence he dropped lightly to the floor next to his short counterpart.

Blue had the rope coiled in his right hand. The left set the shape of the grapnel, then twirled it in circles over his head. His tongue stuck out slightly as he swung it faster, then snapped his arm forward and cast the hook at the root. The throw was good, and it caught around his mark. He pulled the rope taut, took a breath to steel himself, then with a running start he leapt into thin air, pumping his long legs with the swing to encourage the momentum and get him all the way across.

But with a grinding noise and a shifting of soil, the root pulled out of the ceiling slightly, making the rope jerk lower while the tinker was in mid-swing. All felt the bottoms drop out of their stomachs. Blue's only support went slack and he fell towards the far edge. He hit against it with his chest, knocking the wind out of him as his elbows and hands scrabbled for purchase against sliding back into the nothingness. Gravel was knocked loose into the abyss as he clawed. His companions were on him instantly, Purple grasping his forearm, Green reaching down and grabbing his belt. Together they hauled him up onto solid ground. He lay there for a second as his breath returned to him, then got to his feet and rolled his rope back up.

"Thanks." The tinker looked up at the root in the ceiling that had failed him, then gazed across at the far bank, where Red still stood. "Great, now what?" He began scanning the ceiling for another, sturdier, root or other point to use.

The giant's eye was taking in the distance between the two sides of the crevasse. He began backing up, and waving for them to move aside.

"What's he doing?" said Green in alarm.

"Red, no! Are you crazy? No!" the lanky hero shouted, even as Red began his running start. His rope was still in his hands, and he began twirling it, doubting that he could get it around the giant in mid-air, but having nothing else that might save his companion.

The large Link reached the edge at a dash. His muscles bunched with power as he planted one foot and jumped out over the ravine. His arms and legs milled as if treading the air as he flew for the excruciating seconds, halfway across—he was past the peak of his arc now—three-quarters of the way, dropping, still sailing, coming down…

The giant made the impossible leap. He landed heavily, toppling forward slightly, and glanced back at the gap once, then turned a broad grin on his dumbfounded companions.

"You're nuts!" declared Blue, and Purple shushed him. He obliged by lowering his voice to a hiss when he added, "I can't believe you did that!"

"I know," said Red, still smiling in elation. "But we know how far I can jump now."

The tinker put his forehead in his hand. "Do me a favor: next time you want to do an experiment, try not to give us a heart attack in the process."

"You're no fun," the large one told him, getting upright.

"Almost falling into that dampens one's sense of fun."

"Okay, okay. Now onward."

From here on, silence was called for. They made their way down the tunnel, the lamp-flame dim, alert for danger ahead. Their passage became twistier, but widened a bit at a time. They came across another gap that their path skirted, a sheer drop straight down. Past it, Red sniffed, then peered forward. Soon they found the source of the smell: another shaft, with something rotting deep down at its floor that they could not see. The monsters had disposed of something in this handy hole. They must be getting close.

Purple tapped his ear as they stalked on. The tunnel's twists were gone, and it was wide enough for the two taller heroes to walk shoulder-to-shoulder through, but all still hugged the wall. Now it reached all their ears: children sniffing back tears, older voices whispering, echoing off the stones.

The tinker killed the light completely. They approached one last bend in the tunnel. Faint illumination from torches came around it and flickered orange on the ground and walls. Green crept up to the corner, bracing his hands against the wall, light on his feet. He peeked around it slowly with one eye.

Their tunnel led into a section of the cavern where the prisoners were gathered and guarded. This cave was small, maybe forty feet across, fairly round in shape. A rough corral had been erected to contain the villagers somewhat, but they seemed too exhausted or wounded to be of any trouble, and a bulblin stood guard near the mouth of another tunnel. It must lead to the rest of the cavern.

The archer slid back from his peek and whispered to his companions: "One bulblin, and the people in a corral. Can't see the rest of the monsters."

"The hour's not up yet," said Blue. "Still maybe… twenty minutes to go, I guess."

"I want to help these people. I've got an idea to get the guard out of the way." Green pulled the slingshot from his belt. "If I can get him over here where he won't be heard, we'll take him out."

He fitted a seed to the slingshot's band and crept back to the corner. His sharp green eyes fixed for a moment on the bulblin, then on the walls of the cave. Green picked his mark, raised his weapon, and took his shot. The bullet angled off the stone, headed towards the monster.

The guard felt something sting it hard in the shoulder, and grunted. Its horned head swept to its right, where the impact had come from. Nothing was there. Had it been a bug? It glared at the blubbering humans it stood watch over, but none looked at it. Club in hand, it circled their corral, beady eyes searching for a guilty face.

There was a noise from the barrier's opposite side, a sort of snap, leading the monster to the left. It growled, and continued around the crude wooden rails. If these oversized pink monkeys were making trouble for him, it thought as it passed the trash tunnel, they'd soon come to regret it.

A rope and grapnel sailed out of the darkness behind it and wrapped around its body, pinning its arms to itself, pulling taut. Before it knew what was happening or could shout in alarm, the rope yanked it back out of sight. There was a thud and a soft fwoomph, then four figures of various size slunk out into the torchlight.

"Shhhhh," said Green to the villagers as they revealed themselves to them, for they had begun to whisper loudly. "Stay very quiet. We're going to get you out of here."

The archer, the mystic, the tinker, and the giant climbed over the corral walls or slipped between its rails. "Who's hurt bad?" Blue asked softly as he shrugged off his pack and dug out the healing kit.

"Hi, what's your name?" Green asked as he crouched next to a man pierced in his shoulder with two arrows, cradled in a woman's lap as she pressed a piece torn from her petticoat to the wounds.

"Karl," he said, sweat beaded on his forehead, and raised the hand that would not pain him by moving to the woman. "My wife, Maureen."

"Nice to meet you both. We're here to help."

Three of the men bore serious cuts, one of whom had also been beaten with a club, plus Karl. The others had lesser injuries, mostly strikes from clubs and spear-hafts that left large bruises and one possible break. One woman had a gash to her hip from a bulbo tusk that could have been an agonizing and fatal goring if she'd been pierced higher and deeper in her abdomen. Most of the villagers, older children included, also had welts on their arms, shoulders, and upper backs, from the switches that had been used to drive them. Wounds had been bound cursorily with strips torn from their neighbors' clothing. The split hero brought comfort to them, and medicine and new bandages. Their healing kit lay open as they worked, and potions were administered to the three men lacerated badly by bulblin swords.

Purple was wrapping a bandage around the waist of woman who'd been gored with help from her friend. He tied it off deftly, and she smiled. "Thank you, lad, Gwyllis," she added to the other woman.

"Gwyllis?" the child asked her, and she nodded. "Your cousins Rael and Orret are here, they're getting help. We're going to—" he froze, and cocked his head slightly to one side. Then his violet eyes widened and he waved frantically at his companions, then jabbed a finger forcefully towards the door. He'd heard someone coming.

Red's head snapped in that direction, and he gave a thumbs-up. Quickly he picked his way out of the villagers and clambered over the fence.

Green hissed to the others, "Blend in." Blue stuffed the medicine kit back into his bag and he and Purple sought to mingle with the prisoners. The crimson hero pressed himself against the wall, near the passage he could smell and hear the bulblin coming up.

"Scabs!" it called in its gargling, wavy voice as it neared the door, coming closer and closer to the corner. "Scabs, you dummy!" Impatience was entering its tone. "Where—"

The bulblin came into view, and Red moved. One hand seized it by the back of the neck, the other the front of its jerkin. He hauled it in and swung it around, slamming its head face-first into the wall beside him. It was stunned, but he saw with dismay that one horn had broken and protected it from the fatal impact, forcing him to hit it against the stones again. It trilled once, not loud but much louder than he would have liked, and its skin blackened just before it burst into smoke in his grip.

"How long?" he asked in a low voice to Blue.

The tinker shook his head. "Five minutes, any minute now, I don't know."

"I think we're out of time. Looked like he was coming to check on things, and when he's missed…"

"You're probably right." The thin hero got to his feet, hoisted his pack, and moved to take down the corral's 'gate' of rails stacked less securely than the others. "What do we do? If we hole up here we could hold them off, but we won't do the knights much good when they get here."

"That's what I was thinking," said Green. "Let's have a look at least."

"Stay here, stay safe," Purple told the villagers, and the four of them started down the last passage.

The giant's nose told him that there were many boars in the next part of the cavern. The passage connecting them was quite straight, and not long at all, making them worry worse that noise may have already given them away. Some luck still proved to be with them when they spotted the outcrop of rock they could use for cover near the tunnel's far end.

It was a vast cavern, they saw when they looked out. Daylight managed to filter in weakly from the cave's mouth, to their right. At the back was another large corral that held the bulbos. Fires and torches burned here and there across the cavern floor. What looked like a tall, dark, flat-faced slab of stone stood near the middle, flanked with a pair of braziers.

Of greater interest to the quadrifurcated hero than anything, though, were the monsters, for they were many. There was the large party that had captured the villagers, a half-dozen bokoblins, and twice that number in lizalfos. This was big trouble.

A few bulblins seemed agitated, and they were forced to pull their heads back as one glanced in their direction.

"Any minute now?" the giant hero asked in an undertone the skinny one, who nodded, but held his lips pursed uncertainly. "What now?" he posed to all.

The tinker's blue eyes fell on the boar-pen, and lit slightly. He pointed towards it, and whispered, "Stampede. Chaos." They grinned their approval.

Speed more than stealth was their goal as they picked their way towards the corral, but they hugged the cavern's wall and stayed out of the light as best they could, seemingly avoiding notice. The smell of the bublos was powerful when they reached the corral, and their tiny red eyes regarded them not with malice, but caution. These human creatures were staying too quiet, moving crouched like predators, and had a strange scent. They grunted loudly, shifted on their cloven hooves, and swished their tufted tails.

The four Links found the willow crops in a pile where the bulblins had tossed them. Three of them took them up and they jumped the fence into the pen. They exchanged a glance and a nod, then rose to their full heights.

The bulbos' sudden agitation had not completely escaped notice, and monsters were looking in the direction of the corral. They cried out, even as the split hero ran at the boars suddenly, whooping and swinging the switches. Red laid a resounding thwack on one's rump with the flat of the Biggoron's Sword. They grunted loudly, squealed, and ran, driven on, starting to panic, and bowled through the corral walls.

It was satisfactory pandemonium for a minute with flying fence rails and stacked stones that had made up the posts. Howling monsters scattered or were trampled (the bokoblins fared particularly poorly here), stirred-up campfires spewed sparks, and a few boars made it all the way out of the cave.

But the bulblins knew how to handle their mounts, and they were creatures naturally more aggressive and harder to frighten than horses. They grabbed reins or blocked their paths, crooning to them and calming them with their large green hands. There was still confusion, but all-too-soon the four heroes found the eyes of Ganon's troops turning on them.

"That could have lasted longer," Blue said. His hand flexed and drew his boomerang. "I wouldn't have complained."

"Here we go," declared Green as he raised his bow and loosed an arrow at the nearest bulblin. It dropped with the shaft protruding from its chest and puffed out.

Purple leveled the ice rod and activated its power. A thin beam of blue lanced from its end and streaked across the cave, and another bulblin fell with a hip paralyzed by cold. Blue hurled the boomerang and struck successive monsters across the face, then threw it again when it returned.

Despite the ranged assault, a group of bulblins were coming at them with swords drawn. Green stopped two with his bow, but Red called out, "Leave them to me!" and he focused on more distant targets.

The giant twirled the heavy Biggoron's Sword in his hands, then took a step forward as he slashed at the monsters. His unfortunate target was knocked over by the force of the blow and lacerated badly from the blade's edge, and it soon expired with a flash. Even as it lay dying, its fellows were being scattered and slain by the long, sharp weapon in the red hero's grip before they could get into reach to attack.

Green's hands were a blur as he shot arrow after arrow into the press of foes. He saw the first moblin approaching with its spear in hand, and he sighted at its heart. It staggered when the quarrel struck it, but it kept coming. The archer stiffened. A shot like that had taken down a moblin just the other day. Granted, that had been at a closer range, nevertheless… But then he noticed that it was even brawnier than the monsters he'd ambushed just before the split, as were the others, and gritted his teeth. The King of Evil had gotten his hands on a stronger breed somehow. It took another pair of arrows, group closely with the first, before the large monster dropped to its knees and perished.

By then, another one was getting very near to the giant, who was carving through more bulblins. "Red, you've got a big ugly coming!" the lithe one shouted, turning his attention on the more distant foes that weren't as impervious to his arrows.

The crimson hero destroyed two monsters with the same swing, looked up at the moblin, and grinned. "Great! Him I can hit!"

"He's got a thick hide!" Green warned him as he loosed again. Another cluster of bulblins was getting close, and Blue was throwing bombs as well as his boomerang now.

The bulblins had wisely started to keep their distance from the deadly greatsword, but they felt a little emboldened by the hulk with the pike. Its reach was longer than his, and it handled the spear cannily, not letting him chop the shaft apart. A sudden thrust grazed Red's ribs, and he grunted. He ran forward at the monster, angry now and determined to make an end of it, but found himself getting hit about the waist and hips by the bulblins as his focus obviously went to the bigger foe. Nevertheless he shrugged off the wounds and attacked the moblin. It avoided the cut and swung at his shoulder with the spear-haft, but he parried. Then he slid in closer and kicked the monster's knee, gave it an elbow-strike in the face, and when it stumbled back, he split its head with his blade. A bulblin club striking his lower back made the mistake of attracting his attention, and with sudden fury he hewed into the smaller monsters.

Pressure was going up on the beleaguered hero, for the lizalfos were coming on towards Red. Blue saw their approach. His bombs were half-gone and required careful handling, as the monsters had quickly become wary of them, but he had to do something to help his burly companion. His eyes fell on the pile of rocks the size of a man's head that had been a post of the corral, and he grinned. His oversized hands hefted one up to his shoulder, he took a step, and hurled it shot-put-style at the rapidly approaching reptiles. The throw was good, and one his mark would not get up from. He grabbed another, and threw again with a grunt.

The giant began retreating towards his companions. Purple dodged to his side to support him, opening up with the fire rod. The flame set two bulblins alight, burned a lizalfos, and checked the rest in their tracks.

"More uglies," said Blue, with five moblins and another clutch of bulblins approaching them now.

Blue had a nice-sized stack of rocks, and made deadly use of them at any monster approaching Red. The giant, for his part, was still swinging his two-handed sword as he backed up, aided by flaming blasts and frosty rays from the rods in Purple's hands. Green was trying to slow the approaching moblins. The decreasing range to his marks made his shots come faster, but they were far less daunted than he would have liked.

The split hero formed a cluster around the tinker's pile of ammunition, but were surrounded by a semi-circle of glaring and jeering monsters. The enemies stayed out of Red's reach and dodged what attacks from Blue and Purple that they could. Green's bow still found marks, but for every foe he sent to smoke another would only take its place.

Suddenly there was a shout from the back rank of monsters, and the jabs and brandishes from those directly threatening them ceased. Green groaned as he saw the cause. "Shields!" he cried. Purple's ears caught the creaking of bow limbs and strings.

The split hero unslung their shields and raised them, standing together as a rain of arrows fell upon them from bulblin archers some yards back from the standoff. Another wave came down, and they could perceive that the moblins were approaching with spears leveled while they were pinned by the missiles.

"They're getting smart," the tinker admitted sourly. "Now would be a really good time for the knights to get here."

"Sword?" the lithe one suggested. His bow was already slung, and Red and Purple put up the weapons they were still holding.

"Sword!" they agreed, as four hands closed around the gold-colored hilts over their left shoulders.

The Four Sword sang as its pieces were unsheathed. Its wielders were consumed in a flash of white light, and when it dimmed an instant later, they had assumed the fused form. As one, shields raised, they charged into the ranks of the monsters. The first ones were knocked off-balance, and then the hero began laying about ferociously. Their arms moved together, slashing and thrusting left and right, kicks and shield attacks driving back monsters large and small. Their furious assault slew many and the air was thick with the acrid stink of their death.

It almost routed their antagonists. The front rank collapsed into disarray, which only made it easier for the bulblins and lizalfos to be cut down. The monsters fell back a couple of steps to regroup.

But it seemed their fury was being spent quickly. The twelve seconds that the sword had been flashing here and there had seemed like a deadly eternity, but the hero was slowing already, identical expressions going from grim to strained.

It was then that some of the remaining moblins thrust with their spears. Shields protected them, but the force made them stumble back, breaking their line and shaking their concentration. One pikehead slid past a guard and pierced the blue hero in the shoulder. Spontaneously, the other three began to bleed from the same spot, and they retreated, stumbling.

With a gasp and sweat streaming down their faces, they sheathed the blade together and reverted to their distinctive shapes. The headache was painful, as was the wound they shared.

"Back!" Red cried breathlessly. Another hail of arrows arced down on them, several finding human flesh, and the front rank of enemies reformed.

"Blast," Green hissed in pain.

They needed time. Blue's hand went to his belt pouch and pulled out one of his pairs of vials tied together. He squinted at their color, then set his jaw and threw it in front of the press of enemies. The clay shattered, the chemicals mixed, and an explosion of smoke sprang up from the impact. Purple's eyes lit, and he pulled the Cane of Somaria from across his shoulder and swung it with a shout. It conjured a large stone block between them and the monsters, and they sheltered behind it, crouching or collapsing with their backs against its surface.

"Potions," said Blue, digging the bottles of red medicine out of his bag with shaking hands and distributing them. They gulped them down.

Purple held out his hand for another. "Magic," he demanded, and the tinker obliged him with a flask holding green fluid.

The smoke was dissipating already, and they heard shouts and approaching footfalls. Blue recollected the bottles and stuffed them away.

"Fun's not over," said Red grimly, sliding the Biggoron's Sword an inch out of its scabbard.

Blue's eyes widened. "Fun's just beginning," he said weakly, pointing. Around the corner of the block, they could see charging bulblins mounted on their boars, gargling war cries and twirling their clubs over their heads as the bore down on them.

Inspiration struck Green, and he yanked three arrows out of his quiver (it was, he noticed, getting uncomfortably empty). He nocked all to his string at once, drew, aimed at the beast in the lead, and loosed.

The trio of shafts sunk into the boar's throat, and it crashed onto its side, throwing its riders. More were coming. Purple raised his palm and spoke the words of one of his new spells. The fireball flew and detonated amongst the next enemies, and they squealed and stumbled, flesh burned and coats aflame.

From the other side came another galloping boar, its rider shooting arrows. Red brought up his shield, and behind him, Blue pulled on a bomb's fuse. It snapped alight and he hurled it into the monster's path, where it exploded, making it veer off.

Suddenly their cover began to shrink—the block was actually growing smaller. Purple was responsible, the cane still in his hand. "It's going to disappear soon!" he said to the two tallest Links. "Throw it at them!" He jerked his head towards the nearby assemblage of moblin-kin and lizalfos.

The large and lanky heroes tilted the block onto one edge so they could get a grip underneath. With grunts, they hoisted it up to their waists, then their shoulders. It was a great weight, even for the two of them. Purple and Green covered for them, shooting and casting to keep enemies at bay.

On the count of three, they took two steps to get momentum and heaved the block at the stunned group. It landed among them, rolling once and crushing a few. But even before it came to rest, Purple swung the Cane of Somaria again, and the large stone burst apart, harming the monsters further.

Despite all the devastation they'd managed to wreak on their enemies, they were still vastly outnumbered and getting weaker. Green spent the last of his own arrows and was forced to scoop up and shoot bulblin shafts he could find on the ground. Moblins came towards them. Blue cast his grappling hook and caught one's spear, which he yanked out of its surprised hands and then threw back into its owner. Red met the next wave of bulbo-mounted enemies, cutting one out of the saddle. Another narrowly missed goring him with its mount, but its rear rider slashed his shoulder and chest as it passed, then rode on and laid a cut across Blue's back. Green was squarely in its path, lining up a shot on one of the moblins.

"Green, look out!" Purple shouted. He tried to turn the fire rod in the rider's direction, but a lizalfos was suddenly upon him, and he had no choice but to fleche back hard. He cast Nayru's Love and peppered the reptile with crystal shrapnel.

The archer's eyes widened suddenly at the far-too-close boar as it lowered its head to offer its tusks. He threw himself to the side, out of its path, and twisted in mid-air. His mouth was a hard line as he drew a bead on the bulblin holding its reins, and in the mere instant he had before he landed on his side on the ground, he shot it squarely in the neck. It pitched over the bulbo's side and the beast ran on.

"What is going on in there?!" a booming voice suddenly demanded. It wasn't altogether unfamiliar to the split hero: deep, laced with malice when quieter, menacing now when shouting. How could he be heard with the princess's spell blocking him?

Blue and Purple determined the source: the tall, mysterious black object near the room's center. It had changed slightly, taking on a soft glow. Its face swirled as if it held a mist within it, and it fuzzily reflected the torches on its either side.

"Mirror," they said together. It had to be smashed, before Ganon saw what was going on or rallied his forces. They were hard-pressed enough already. The tinker pulled out one of his last bombs, lit it with a tug of his fingernails, and cast it towards the mirror. It bounced, then rolled to a stop at its foot, hissing as it burned down. Then it went off, shattering the dark surface, dispelling its illusion of depth.

Despite that, things were getting really out of hand. The split hero fought off cautious monsters nearby only to be hazed as bulblos tore past. It was coming from every direction at once; all were too beset upon to support the others.

Then another volley of arrows was loosed. They had no chance to raise their shields; the best they could do was attempt to dodge, duck their heads, and cover them with their arms. All were hit at least once. Red, tangling with a pair of moblins, was a popular target with the bowmonsters, possibly due to his size and color. He took a couple of shafts in his upper chest, one in his side, and a fourth in his forearm, which may have pierced his head or neck if he hadn't raised it. Purple wanted to conjure another block for them to shelter behind, but he couldn't put down either of the rods he was using to keep monsters at bay—not entirely successfully, either; his arm was hampered by wounds

Another gargle sounded, and the monsters fell back slightly. Bulbos were chivied into place and weapons brandished. They were lining up for a charge, and behind them, arrows were rattling as they were drawn from quivers. This was it, one last volley, then a push to mop them up for good…

Suddenly, a horn rang loudly throughout the cave, reverberating from wall to wall to ceiling. The monsters paused, turned to look at the mouth of the cave. It was a sight that made the enemies bellow, and the heroes sigh in relief: Red, white, and gold surcoats over shining mail, gleaming swords, spear-tips, and shields. The knights had arrived, entering the cave on foot at a charge. They fell upon the cluster of bulblin archers, scattering or slaying them. Half pressed on when they tried to retreat to a respectable shooting distance, but the other half was directed towards the ranks that faced the Links.

Behind the mailed figures came the scouts, who drew their own bows and rained shafts on the bulblins and moblins before the knights crashed into them.

The quadrifurcated hero shared a look of relief, then a predatory grin as their hands went to the Four Sword once more. The monsters who had harried them were caught in the jaws of a vise. As extraneous weapons were put away and the blade slid free, the squeeze began.

It had turned into a battle of attrition, with the Links being worn steadily down by overwhelming numbers and assaults from too many sides at once. They had taken down perhaps half the monsters in the cave, but would soon have paid for their tenacity. Now it was over quickly. The remaining foes were torn into from two flanks at once. They routed, those who weren't killed turning and running for the exit of the cave. Many of them were picked off by scouts' arrows or knights who'd finished with the bowmonsters. The remaining bulblins on boar-back broke through with the greatest success, and galloped off.

With tremendous relief, the split hero put up their blade and breathed deep. It was stuffy in the cave, and still heavy with the smoke of slain monsters, but they lived.

A knight removed his helm and came towards them: Sir Bornelle. He took in the sight of them—arrows protruding, cuts streaming blood—and said, "Get yourselves fixed up. Where are the prisoners they caught?"

Green pointed tiredly towards the tunnel. "Through there. They're okay."

He nodded, and a pair of knights went for the passage, mail clinking. "That was a stupid, reckless thing you did," he commented to the Links. "But I'm glad you're alive. Now, see to those wounds, you look awful."

Archer, giant, tinker, and mystic trudged out of the cave to breathe fresh air and collapse against a boulder. The knights' horses stood where they'd been dismounted in a hurry (one or two were already starting to graze), and the afternoon sun shone down on them. Blue broke out his medicine kit. They began dressing their hurts, and drinking potion to toast the narrow victory.

AN: It's a monster, but it's complete. Word tells me that not counting my little post-script here, it clocks in nearly 6,000 words. No wonder it took a while to write (that and I had to think about what I'd gotten them into). But it's done, and I'm not breaking this one up.

Red's line, "Great, him I can hit!", is actually a Ben Grimm quote.

How was that? Is the action still handled well? You know how to let me know: drop a review, if you please!