12. Mortal Combat

It was the prince's surprised shout that dragged Link and Zelda away from the slowly swirling portal and sent them running into Dodongo's Cavern. Relief washed away Zelda's trepidation, and she felt glad for the distraction. She began to slow her pace. Ganondorf and Midna stood in the centre of a pool of light in the darkened grotto. Before them, resting on its side, was a massive, broken skull belonging to some no-doubt ugly looking beast, teeth chipped and eye sockets staring into blank oblivion. Above that, spinning in the shaft of light, was a tanned circular stone.

Link stopped in front of the prince. "I see you found Dodongo, then," he said, nodding at the skull. "Always was a possibility, this. You know, him expiring in the current climate. Ice doesn't sit well with him, you see. Well. Like me and tomatoes, really. Makes me come out in a terrible rash. All these pimples running down…" His voice wilted under the prince's molten stare. Link cleared his throat. "So," he said, smacking his lips together. "Dead Dodongo. Dodongo dead. And here we all are, standing by his head." He clicked his tongue. "Fancy adding another line…? Could be quite the hit with the minstrels, no? What rhymes with head?"

"'Always was a possibility…?'" A muscle twitched in Ganondorf's cheek. "'Always was a possibility?'"

"I did mention that before we left, no?"

Now a muscle began to throb in the prince's temple. "No," he spat. "You did not."

"Oh," said Link, scratching his cheek. "How remiss." Something twinkled in the Hero's eye. Zelda was certain that it was something that suspiciously resembled amusement. The air between the two men seemed suddenly charged. She decided to step away. A glance in Midna's direction told Zelda that the princess was far from impressed.

"I'm terribly sorry," Link went on. "I do apologise." He reached into his coat, rummaged around for a bit, then pulled out a clear jar filled with some orange-looking substance. Smiling, he unscrewed the lid, then held it out for the prince. "Marmalade?"

Ganondorf's hand balled into a fist. "I hope you're taking this seriously," he said, his echoing voice as cold as the icy mountain itself. "Capturing this stone was…important to me." He glanced at Midna. "To win this fair maiden's heart, of course. I will not tolerate any sabotage on your part, sir."

Link dipped a finger into the jar. "The Spiritual Stone's right there if you want it." He nodded towards the spinning rock, then licked the marmalade off his finger. "Though I'm not sure how you'd get it down. Between you and me, it looks like someone's cast a spell on it. And if that is the case, then I'd wager that we're about to have company any minute-"

A circle of torches burst to life with a whoosh. Spinning, the four adventurers huddled together, back-to-back, their darting eyes scanning. The light revealed the cavern to be circular in shape, layered with soft sand and surrounded by a series of ascending rock benches. Benches now filled with row upon row of round, rotund Gorons.

Zelda gazed around in awe. There were so many of them. Some of them wore sleeveless tunics, others strange triangular hats. There were Gorons lounging back on the benches, picking at their teeth, and others who munched on glistening pebbles that steamed as they scooped them into their mouths by the handful. How had they kept themselves so quiet?

Another shaft of light revealed a raised dais, so tall that it almost reached the craggy ceiling. A lone Goron stood there, dressed in dark ceremonial robes. His eyes took in the scene with imperious detachment. He spoke, his strong voice reverberating through the air. "Here come some new challengers!"

The assembled Gorons exploded into a cacophony of cheers and whistles, their stamping feet sending shudders down into the ground. Ganondorf stepped forward and pinned the speaker with a regal stare. "What goes on here?" he cried. "I demand to be told. Where is Darunia and-"

"Darunia?" the speaker cut in. "Darunia? Hear that, brothers and sisters? Darunia! Ha!" As if on cue, the crowd burst out into peals of laughter. "I am the Ringmaster, worm, and Darunia does not rule here - I do." His cold, black eyes glistened. "He doesn't even know that this exists."

The prince stood his ground. "And what is 'this,' exactly?"

"Well," the Ringmaster said, still laughing. "This was going to the final of the Seven Rocks of Shadow tournament. Winner, this year, takes the Spiritual Stone. But it seems, if we overheard correctly, that you are willing to throw in your hats. For the Stone, that is. You're more than welcome. We do love a bit of sport, don't we, brothers and sisters?" The crowd roared in the affirmative. Sniffing, the Ringmaster cleared his voice with noisy exaggeration. "All except that little girl. Let no-one say we Gorons are uncivilised. No children."

Zelda folded her arms and scowled. "Oh, charming."

Now it was the princess who stepped forward. "What's the nature of this tournament?" she called. "And if this was meant to be the final, then where are the participants?"

"Beloved," Ganondorf said, his voice urgent. "Stay behind. Let me handle this. Do not risk yourself."

Midna held up a hand. "Not on your life. Twili women don't 'stay behind.' Better get used to it…" she smiled, "…beloved." Her wink sent the prince into a paroxysm of surprise and delirious joy.

"Oh, great," Link muttered. "Domestic."

The Ringmaster hadn't noticed the exchange. "The nature of the tournament?" Grinning, he surveyed the crowd with theatrical slowness. "Why…it's perfectly simple. Best two out of three rounds. Winner is the last man - or woman – standing. You just have to make sure your opponent is knocked flat on their back. As for the finalists…" He clapped his hands and a rusted gate screeched its way open on the far side of the cavern. Two figures stepped through.

"In-tro-du-cing first!" the Ringmaster bellowed, revelling in his role as the master showman. "Hailing from parts unknown, she's sleek, petite, and a killing freak – she is…the Maid of Blades!" The woman that stepped into the roaring crowd's sight was thin, short, and dressed in a gown that Zelda knew from the Know-it-all Brothers was called a kimono. Hair tied in a bun, she carried an empty silver platter daintily on one palm. Painted lips formed a crimson smile.

"She doesn't look like much of a fighter," Zelda whispered.

The princess snorted in reply. "Those are the ones you have to watch out for the most, dear."

A hush fell over the crowd. Zelda felt her skin prickle, felt the sudden anticipation crackling in the air.

"And now," the Ringmaster said, his voice quiet. "In-tro-du-cing next…" The crowd leaned forward in unison. Knuckles cracked, and jaws hung open with naked expectation. A murmur ran through the Gorons. "He hails from right here in Death Mountain, and he is the ten-time consecutive winner of the Seven Shadows of Rock tournament."

The murmur ebbed, then grew as the biggest Goron Zelda had ever seen – not that she'd seen that many anyway – lurched into view, muscles rippling under his golden skin. He raised a thick arm to greet the now rabid crowd.

"He is the defending champion of the worrrrrrllllld…he is-" the crowd were on their feet, the cavern shaking as their single voice reached an almighty crescendo, "- The Unwanted Spawn of the Outcast Jerunia - Iron Tiger Nine!"

Link shook his head. "Harsh."

Zelda elbowed him in the ribs and whispered, "I think that really is his name."

Link blinked. "Oh."

Iron Tiger Nine's eyes then fell upon the four adventurers, measuring them one-by-one. He gave Zelda the briefest of glances, but when his gaze fell upon Midna, he stopped, his mouth stretching into a grin.

"Oh, I'll have that wench." He licked his lips. "Keep her for my…personal collection."

Steel spun, and the princess had a dagger ready in her hand. "I'll have your head for mine."

The Ringmaster roared along with the crowd. "Oh, we do like it when they purr!" he giggled. "But, tell us. Who are you strangers?"

Ganondorf's sword slid free from its leather prison. "I am the Prince of Hyrule." His gaze took in the entire crowd. "Your prince."

Nothing met him except a wall of pure derision, catcalls and jeers that rained down upon his head. "Our prince, he says," the Ringmaster cackled. "That's a good one. There were some princes sniffing around the mountain just a few hours ago." The Goron's face darkened. "We killed them all. Tasty." A cold smile hung from the Ringmaster's face. "And the rest of your motley crew?"

Ganondorf blinked, stunned by the revelation. He cleared his throat. "This is the Princess of the Twili," he said. "And my-"

"His betrothed," said Midna.

The prince smiled. "My betrothed. And these are my travelling companions – little Zelda of the Kokiri, and Link-" his smiled widened "- of parts unknown."

The Hero of Time waved. "Hello!" he said. "Now if we could all just discuss this in a civil-"

"So," the Ringmaster cut in. "Do you accept the challenge, prince?"

Ganondorf's hand tightened around the pommel of his sword. "I do."

Link's palm met his face. "Oh, for the love of-"

"Let's make this interesting, then," the Ringmaster said. "Since there are now five of you, one should proceed to the final on a bye. And that, based on your oh-so-illustrious position, should be you, Prince of Hyrule."

Iron Tiger Nine stiffened. "This is unfair!" he bellowed. "Equal fights for-"

"What?" the Ringmaster interrupted, robes swirling as he turned. His voice twisted with disdain. "Not good enough to get to the final yourself, Tiger?"

Tiger glowered, and then backed down. "As you wish."

"Excellent!" The Ringmaster wore an expression of pure self-satisfaction. "So, in addition to defeating your opponent, you semi-finalists will now also be awarded points based on how aggressive, effective and entertaining your offensive strategy is. Therefore, out of the two winners, whoever has the most points – awarded by myself, of course – will proceed to the final to face the Prince of Hyrule himself for the Spiritual Stone."

With another exaggerated twirl, he turned to the crowd. "What say you, brothers and sisters?" The Gorons thundered their approval. The Ringmaster grinned, and turned back to the prince. "And you?"

Ganondorf held up his blade. "I say 'aye!'"

Midna's fingers flexed and unflexed. "And I say 'aye', too!"

Link was up next. "And I say," the Hero cried as he held up his jar. "Marmalade? No? Plenty to go around, you know."

*

"Round One!" The Ringmaster sent a silk scarf fluttering from his dais. "Fight!"

Midna stepped forward. Ahead of her was the grotesquely large form of the grinning Iron Tiger Nine. Waves of naked fat rippled as he stamped his feet. The crowd echoed his gesture in time. She saw the raw lust that hungered in those black eyes and dismissed it. It was a look she'd grown accustomed to from the many weak-minded, undisciplined men – boys, more like – that had tried to win her in the past few years. She didn't care. Her prince had proven himself to her – his deeds, the things he'd done for his people – and now it was time for her to prove herself to him. Even if it meant besting him in the final. And why not? That wouldn't be out of place in any Twili marriage back home.

And yet…the image of Ganondorf slaughtering his prisoner back in Kakariko flicked, unbidden, into her mind. She blinked, disoriented – and that heartbeat of hesitation was enough for Tiger to strike the first blow. The Goron's meaty fist spun, then cracked into the side of her skull, sending her careening into the ground in a cloud of dirt.

The Ringmaster held up a fist. "Winner of the first round – Iron Tiger Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!"

Boos rang through Midna's spinning head. "We paid good rupees for this!" someone shouted. "At least try and fight, woman!" another echoed.

She spat out a wad of blood. Her tongue, tasting copper and salt, probed a loosened tooth. The physical pain was nothing. The humiliation, on the other hand, burned. She glanced over at where her friends stood. Little Zelda had her fist in her mouth and Ganondorf, his own fists trembling, willed her on with his eyes. The other man, Link, stood with arms crossed, face impassive.

Her eyes focused on the prince. She'd made her choice, for better or worse. There was no turning back. Her pride had spoken over her head, and her pride wouldn't allow her to simper out of it now. She could tame her man. All Twili women could.

"Come on, wench," Tiger murmured. "Make a match of it. I need the points." He licked his lips again. "And then afterwards….well, we could make our own, more intimate match, don't you think?"

Midna's head snapped up, eyes ablaze. "Oh, shut up."

"Round Two!" Another scarf took to the air. "Fight!"

With surprisingly graceful speed, Tiger lunged forward with both arms – but too late. Midna had already sprung into the air, daggers sliding free. She landed hard on his shoulders, then somersaulted again. Hitting the ground, Midna twisted around and thrust both daggers up. A blur of flesh followed; Tiger blocked the attack by quickly crossing both his arms into an 'X'. The crowd noisily voiced its approval.

Her blades hadn't even left a scratch on his skin. The Goron's grinning face peered down at the princess' shocked eyes. Her expression darkened. "You want to get intimate, dear?" she whispered. "Let's get intimate." She threw herself backwards, spine arcing, and sent her boot flying into Tiger's groin.

The entire crowd winced in sympathy with the Goron's pained expression. Midna didn't waste time. She began wailing away on the back of Tiger's fat head, her fists, still clinging to her daggers, smashing against solid bone.

"Fall," she panted. "Fall! Fa-"

Swift as a viper's strike, Iron Tiger Nine's hand shot up and curled itself around the princess' throat. Feet dangling, Midna felt herself be lifted off the ground. The sound of the baying crowd faded to a dull roar. She saw scarlet pearls dance in her eyes, and inky darkness seeped in at the corner of her vision. She felt herself fade…fade… She lifted her arms -

And plunged both daggers into the Goron's head. Instantly the weight around her throat vanished. Midna fell to the ground in a heap, gasping for sweet, cold air. Bright light stung her eyes. She looked up. Tiger pulled the blades out from his head one by one, looked at them with disdain, then flung the bent metal aside. They hadn't gone in as deep as she'd thought they had – perhaps only a half inch. Still, she had the satisfaction of seeing twin scarlet trails run down both sides of his head.

Strength sapped, Midna drew herself shakily to her feet. Still the Goron stalked her, moving slowly, arms outstretched. It was his smile that rankled the most. It spoke of his impending victory, of the sweetness that he would clearly take from it.

Midna snarled, adrenaline flooding her battered limbs. She took a step forward, a second, then launched herself forward, feet first. Her boot crunched into his jaw, snapping his head to one side. Hitting the ground, the princess swept her leg, hoping to take those tree-like limbs out from under him, but he spun away easily. She followed through with a swift, swinging punch that made a satisfyingly hard crack against the Goron's nose. A sharp elbow to the head had him reeling, rocking back and forth in a daze. The shocked crowd were on their feet.

The princess smiled. "See you later." She somersaulted into the air, ready to deliver a knockout kick and -

The Goron's slack expression suddenly snapped back to life. "No. See you."

Shock ran through the entire length of Midna's body as Iron Tiger Nine caught her by the throat in mid-air. She hung there, frozen, for a heartbeat, then the air whistled past her face as she hurtled down, down, down. When the hard ground smashed into her spine, it wrenched from her throat a scream laced with pain, frustration and utter humiliation.

The Ringmaster held up both fists. "The winner of this match by two rounds to zero…Iron Tiger Niiiiiiiiiiiiine!"

Ganondorf was by her side in an instant, sand pluming as he slid to the ground on his knees. "Beloved!"

Midna, blood streaming from her nose, pushed him aside and crawled away. She felt Zelda touch her arm, but couldn't summon up the strength to acknowledge the young girl. The taste of ash settled on her tongue. Heavy and bitter, it was the taste of defeat. She couldn't even look the prince in the eye. "I failed you," was all she said.

Ganondorf's reply was equally as simple. "I will avenge you."

*

"The clown?" The Maid of Blades had an accent that was clipped, but clear. "I fight the fool?"

Link arched an eyebrow, watching her as they stood in the centre of the circular arena. That's it, love. You keep on underestimating me like the little dear that you are.

"Listen," he said. "I'm not really into violence against women. Truth be told, violence against women falls solidly into second place behind violence against Link in my all time pet peeves. So. Why don't you just throw in the tea-towel right now and we'll not speak of this again, yes?"

"Prattle, tattle," the Maid cooed. The silver platter still balanced serenely on her palm. "What can I do for that tongue of yours, hmm?"

"Round One!" the Ringmaster called. The silk scarf took flight. "Fight!"

A hush fell over the crowd. The Maid held the oval platter up in front of half her face like a fan. Her long lashes blinked once, twice.

Link drew on the soothing touch of the Presence. "Look," he said. "I really, really, really don't want to fight you." He held up his palms. "No weapons, see? Now. Let's not do anything rash. I'm guessing that you've been roped into this. Kidnapped at a young age, no? Forced into slavery, right? You don't look like a warrior at all. There's no way we could have anything resembling a fight. There's nothing a dainty little love like you could do to harm me."

One by one, curved blades slid out from all around the circumference of the platter. The Maid's innocuous tray now resembled an evil looking circular saw.

Link's eyes widened. "Oh, bugger."

Two things happened at once: One, Link felt the Presence drop slightly, and two, Link saw the spinning platter buzz through the air, tearing a line for his face. With a shocked yell, the Hero ducked and rolled, the saw slicing harmlessly over his head, then he sprang back up, sword at the ready.

The crowd were roaring now. Sparks spat as the platter struck a wall, then curved its way back towards Link. He ducked again, and the bladed platter turned and went for his legs. Her leapt into the air, pirouetting. The Maid of Blades stood in serene silence, her eyes tracking her weapon. Link landed and ran.

Let myself go. Just flow.

Focused, the Presence flooding all his senses once again, the Hero ran towards one rocky wall. He felt the air ripple behind him, heard the buzzing thunder in his ears, felt the razor-sharp blades gain on him closer and closer and –

Link launched himself up, pushed himself off the wall with one boot, and somersaulted over and behind the flying platter. The blades struck the rock, flew backwards and honed in on Link. He ducked the first slice, twirled on his heel, then deflected the next attack with his sword. Sparks exploded; crimson shadows danced in his eyes, then spun away, sizzling. The assembled Gorons were screaming now, the cavern rocking with their momentum. The briefest of glances told Link of Zelda's shocked expression. He gave her a wink.

The murderous platter buzzed angrily as it probed and weaved, trying to find a way through. Serene, eyes half-closed, Link deflected each strike with graceful ease, his coat flapping in the wash of churned air. The spinning bladed platter flipped over, drove in for the Hero's face – and snapped as Link's sword sliced it in two.

Another blanket of silence smothered the awestruck crowd. Link stood, eyes dark, blade in hand. Wisps of smoke drifted slowly before his face. The Maid hissed. She held up both arms. Two grey blobs flew from her flapping sleeves. They morphed into the shape of another two razor-edged silver platters that curved in a downward arc, screaming as they targeted the Hero of Time.

One trick pony ,eh? Link's eyes quickly took measure of the situation. He grinned. Assassin skills, don't fail me now!

Link ran, arms outstretched, straight towards the flying blades. The Gorons flew to their feet, amazed. Somewhere inside, the Hero was dimly aware that Zelda was screaming his name. Still he ran. Eyes narrowed, Link saw the spinning razor-edged platters as twin blurs, growing larger and larger until they were almost on top of –

And at the very last moment Link arced his back and slid under their flight path. His sword arm swung and the platters shattered in a fiery cloud of metal and sparks. Link sprung upright with a hearty "Tally-hoooo!" and found himself facing the Maid's shocked visage.

"You know all that talk about violence to women?" he said. "I think I'll make an exception."

The Maid's eyes widened as Link drew back his sword arm. Her jaw dropped, he stepped on the hem of her gown; she stumbled back and, a moment later, the Maid of Blades tumbled awkwardly to the ground.

Link stood over her. "Or not, as the case may be."

The Ringmaster's fist shot upward as the crowd erupted into cheers. "Winner of the first round – Llllllink!"

The Hero wheeled away, satisfied – and just as he did so, he caught a glimpse of Ganondorf's face. The prince's fierce eyes were pinned on Iron Tiger Nine, and the Goron reciprocated the stare in kind. Once or twice, Ganondorf glanced at Midna – now being nursed by Zelda – then back at Tiger. Link felt his resolve plummet.

This isn't about me, is it? he thought. Well. It is. In the context of having the courage to make the right choice it is. His eyes flicked to the cavern's entrance, and he remembered what waited him there. His heart surged. Home. Let's go home.

A silk scarf dropped. "Round Two! Fight!"

Link made some quick calculations in his head. He nodded, then stepped up to the Blade's Maid.

"Slap me," he said.

The Maid blinked. "What?"

"Slap me silly, love."

She did so.

Link hit the ground.

The Goron crowd, which at that moment had been whipping itself into a frenzy, now rose slowly to its feet in stunned silence. Even the Ringmaster hesitated. "Ah…" He cleared his throat. "Winner of the second round – and tying this match at one round apiece – the Maid of Blades!" He flicked a scarf away. "Round Three! Fight!"

Link crawled around at the Maid's feet. "Oh, you got me good, love," he groaned. "It was as bad a blow as seeing Tingle floating over the streets of Castle Town, hanging onto a balloon while he wore nothing but a balloon."

She kicked him in the face. Link rolled over onto his back.

Now the crowd did get restless. A cascade of jeers reverberated through the air. Some of the Gorons began to throw rocks. The Ringmaster, his obsidian eyes blank, stared and stared and stared before he finally held up both fists.

"The winner of this match at two rounds to one…the Maaaaaaaid of Blaaaaaades!" The crowd responded with a mixture of cheers and boos. "However," the Ringmaster continued after a quick glance at the notes he'd scribbled onto a scroll, "The winner of the semi-final at fifty-four points to thirteen is…Iron Tiger Niiiiiiiiiiiine!" This time the crowd was pleased.

The Maid, crimson lips sagging, spat, then stalked off, the hem of her gown trailing over the uneven ground. Zelda watched as Link sauntered towards her. "You threw that match!" she hissed. A veritable gamut of emotions had churned through her as she'd watched both fights. Now she felt drained, physically and mentally. Zelda cradled Midna's head in her lap and after pressing the princess' face with a damp rag, she looked up at Link again. "Why?"

"Oh, you know how it is," he said. "Just didn't fancy it anymore. Much more fun being a spectator." His voice dropped so that only Zelda could hear. "Besides, every hero needs an arch-enemy, no?"

Ganondorf glanced over at him. "Shame you didn't have the stamina," he said. "I guess she just waited until you'd tired yourself out. But no matter." His eyes flew back to Tiger. "Now vengeance will be mine."

Link folded his arms. "You do that, mate. Get it out of your system."

A large clap made everyone in the cavern look up. The Ringmaster gazed back, eyes imperious. "I think that's enough sport for one day, don't you?" he said, his voice ringing in the air. "Tomorrow we shall return for the Grand Finale. 'Till then, I formally invite our esteemed guests to dine with us this evening. Agreed?"

"My friends and I shall be happy to accept your request," Ganondorf replied.

The Ringmaster grinned. "Excellent!" He clapped again and turned away. The crowd made to depart, heavy limbs shuffling, a murmur of conversation filling the air. The Ringmaster paused, and then turned. "Oh, and one last thing." The four adventurers all looked up as one, all of them catching the meaningful tone in the Goron's voice. "The final tomorrow – well, how remiss of me, I forgot to say." His coal-black eyes glittered as a smile stretched over his face. "The final will be a single round of mortal combat - a fight to the death."