Twenty-One
(Loose Ends)
Belakar City, capital of the Calatian Empire, well remembered the time an Oocca flying fortress had last dominated its skies. Despite the twenty-five years that had passed since then, steadily erasing all trace of the damage the Dark Lord Raneses' army had wreaked upon their city, the Calatians reacted in almost blind panic when another of the mile-wide dreadnaughts settled above the city, its cannon ports primed and ready.
Empress Zelda stood in the midst of a city street near the docks with the former Hero, Lord Fenris, and his wife, the Queen of Twilight, Midna. Both heroes of the Oocca war wore suits of magic armor, vaguely similar in design but different in color. Midna had magically exchanged her usual clothes for her dark gray, black and red armor moments after the flying fortress appeared.
"What can we do?" the young Empress asked the two heroes of the last war in which these monstrosities had been fought.
"Well, since I'm not sensing any sort of mind-control coming from this one," Midna said thoughtfully, "and since the present Bearer of Power is not here and also a traitor, not a whole lot."
"What do you mean?" Zelda asked her.
"The weaknesses are gone," Midna explained. "We used to be able to take one of these out by destroying the mind-control crystal in the armored compartment below the command room. They must be using a regular crew instead. Back when he was Bearer of Power, Arnak could destroy one of these by himself, but he can't help us and Ganondorf won't."
"I refuse to accept that we can do nothing against this… thing. There has to be something we can do to stop it!" Zelda said determinedly.
"Is there a sorcerer in command?" Lord Fenris asked his wife.
Midna stared up at the gigantic hovering shape, concentrating. "Yes," she said momentarily.
"Then we fly up to the command room, break in and kill him, and commandeer the fortress," Link said, as if it was something he did every day.
Midna fixed him with a reproving look. "I don't know about you, Mr. Hero, but I didn't spend a whole lot of time learning how to fly one of these things back during the last war. Seems to me you don't have much experience, either."
"I will go with you," said Zelda. "I am sure I will be able to figure it out."
"Right," Midna said dryly. "So we'll just pop on up there, kill the sorcerer, and save the day again. Sounds nice and simple."
"It should be, if we act quickly," Zelda said with a trace of impatience.
"Let me tell you something about Ganondorf, Your Highnessness," said Midna. "Things tend to go sideways when he's involved. I don't think anything about this is as simple as it seems. Since he was more or less behind the last war, it seems to me he made sure this fortress got stashed away where we couldn't find it for a good reason. Now, I'm betting there's something special about this one, something none of the others had, because that's just the kind of annoyingly tricky thing Ganon likes to do."
Even as Midna spoke, a huge port on the underside of the fortress, nearly twenty feet across, irised open, and a tremendous, crystalline structure lowered out, alternating between blue and green in color as it flashed and also emitted a low, almost painfully deep near-ultrasonic rumble.
Link winced, reflexively hunching his neck into his shoulders as if the sound was causing him physical pain. Zelda herself had to close her eyes for a moment; the incredibly deep sound was already giving her a headache. With his sharper senses, especially hearing, Zelda could only imagine what it was like for the former Hero.
"I remember something!" Midna shouted to the two of them over the increasingly loud noise as the crystal structure pulsed faster and faster. "Back during the last war, Auru and Ashei said they encountered something like this when they were coming back down from Snowpeak. The fortress that attacked the Zoras there had a crystal like this that knocked them all out, and when they woke up, they were prisoners."
Link was about to ask a question, but as he opened his mouth, the pulsing quickened into a throbbing, and then into a continuous, bone-achingly deep tone.
Sensing powerful magic building up, Zelda hastily threw a shield around herself and the two others, pouring as much strength into its protective energies as she could.
The crystalline structure began to spin, and when it was moving so fast Zelda could see only a glowing blur, it flashed, so blindingly bright that she had to shield her eyes.
When the light faded, Zelda immediately sensed that something was wrong, but could not quite identify it. Crouched in the street next to her, Midna looked over at the Empress and said, "Everyone's gone."
Zelda nodded, confirming it with her own perceptions. "For several blocks in every direction," she said.
"Dead?" asked Link.
"No," Zelda replied, concentrating. She looked up at the tremendous floating shape above them. "In there."
"It must be some sort of forced short-range teleportation," Midna said. "Your shield protected us, but everyone else got sucked up into that thing."
"They don't even have to fire at us," Link said grimly. "They must have sent that thing here to take everyone in the capital; the sorcerer is probably here to ensorcel them all into those creature-soldiers the Divine Host uses."
"Simultaneously eradicating a threat to their power and replenishing their losses from all the sorcerers and soldiers we've destroyed," Midna finished. "Tricky."
"We have to get in there and stop them somehow," Zelda said, drawing upon her power in preparation for self-levitation.
"Did you bring any bombs?" Midna inquired of her husband.
"Three bags, as usual," Link replied. "Why?"
Midna grinned at this news. Looking at her, Empress Zelda was suddenly quite glad the Queen of Twilight was on her side, and the malice in that grin was not directed at her.
She gestured up at the flying fortress. "Let's go."
The most secret stronghold of the Divine Host, a castle deep in the jungles of the Far South, was known only to a select few; so few that it was rare for more than ten or twelve sentient beings to gather within its halls at any one time.
On this day, only five of the highest-ranking sorcerers in the Dark God's mortal organization gathered in the castle, all of them around a table in the Warlock's throne room, on which was a map of the continent depicting the placement of their forces.
Even these evil men, steeped in the blackest dark magic, with the blood of countless thousands on their hands, jumped in surprise when the great wooden doors at one end of the hall suddenly slammed open with tremendous force.
Into the hall strode the Dark Lord Ganondorf, the very picture of fury as he stormed toward the leadership of the Divine Host. His armor gleamed and his cloak billowed behind him from the speed of his stride, and it seemed that a seething, crackling aura surrounded him, just out of perception. His dark face was twisted in rage, and he held a sword in his hand, his obsidian-black creation the Sword of Darkness.
Without a word, the Dark Lord swiftly approached, and with a ferocious bellow, smashed the table into splinters with one mighty blow.
Only the Warlock himself, the greatest mortal servant of the Dark God Setarekh, did not take a reflexive step back, away from the enraged Dark Lord. The Warlock's glowing purple eyes flashed within the shadows of his hood, and he inquired, with deceptive calm, "What is the meaning of this, Ganondorf?"
"You know!" Ganondorf thundered, leveling his blade at the shrouded figure. "You know damned well why I am here, you treacherous son of a viper!"
"Explain yourself," the Warlock said, still calm, but with an undercurrent of threat in his tone.
"I have just received word that the Divine Host is attacking my people," Ganondorf snarled, still holding his weapon pointed at the commander of the Dark God's army. "So now, I have come to slaughter you all for breaking your oath to me." He narrowed his eyes at the Warlock himself. "Starting… with you. I know who you really are, and you are fortunate I have not killed you already."
"Rash," the Warlock said, his deep voice echoing slightly in the cavernous throne hall. "You do not know all the details."
"I do not need to know the details!" Ganondorf shouted back. "You have broken our agreement; that is all I need to know, all the justification I need to rip out your entrails and throttle you with them!"
"Restrain yourself," the Warlock said, taking a few steps toward Ganondorf. His boots crunched over the splintered remains of the table, lighter fragments of which were swept aside by the weighted hem of his long, deep purple robe. "Despite the power you wield through the artifact of the Goddesses, do not doubt that my god has given me power to match yours… Dark Lord. An assault upon me, surrounded by my greatest servants, would be… unwise."
Ganondorf did not lower his sword, leaving its point level with the Warlock's neck, hidden by the folds and shadows of his hood. "Then explain," the Dark Lord growled through clenched teeth. "Explain, if you can, why I should not murder you all right now."
"One of our sorcerers, in his… enthusiasm, has disregarded the orders I gave him," the Warlock said patiently. "His lust for blood has overwhelmed his judgment, and in his impatience, he attacked the first available target. The matter is being… dealt with."
The reborn Dark Lord lowered his weapon, and approached until he and the Warlock stood but a foot apart, glaring down at the other man from his greater height. "Remember this," Ganondorf said dangerously. "My alliance to you hangs entirely on the lives and safety of my people. I fight at your side to ensure that they will be spared by your hordes. Make this abundantly clear to the rest of your sorcerers, for if I hear of another attack on the Gerudo, I will see every one of you dead and your god thrown down. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
The Warlock regarded him serenely from within his hood, completely unfazed by the Dark Lord's anger. "Perfectly," he replied mildly. "Now, if you do not mind, our lines require your attention. The Goddesses have loosed their immortal servants in the world, and you are one of the few among our ranks who can stand against them. Our numbers must be preserved for the next phase of our offensive."
Ganondorf poked a stiff finger into the Warlock's chest. "Do not think I will forget this," he snarled, then turned on his heel to storm back out of the throne room. He slammed the doors closed so forcefully that one of the steel hinges snapped, and a great crack appeared in the solid hardwood panel.
"My lord," said one of the other sorcerers, a silver-haired man with the glowing purple eyes typical of those of high rank, "is it wise to keep one whose loyalties are so… flexible… among our troops?"
"His usefulness to us will run its course soon enough," the Warlock replied, unperturbed. "And when it does, the gods will destroy him, as they should have done a century ago." The terrible visage within the concealing hood turned to regard the other sorcerer. "Fear not. Despite the Goddesses' efforts, we cannot lose. Our Master's victory is assured; all we must do is execute the plans he has laid out for us."
With a subtle motion of his fingers, the Warlock exercised a miniscule portion of his will and caused the shattered table to re-form, as if nothing had happened. He returned to the map, and his lieutenants slowly gathered back into their positions.
The silver-haired sorcerer was the last to step back into place. He cast a final look at the cracked door, then looked over at his master. "Of course, my lord," he said, his voice bolstered with a confidence he clearly did not feel.
"Aeron!" a vaguely familiar voice hissed in an urgent whisper. "Aeron, wake up!"
Once again, Aeron struggled his way back into consciousness, wincing at the pain in his head. He opened his eyes, seeing first a dark, damp stone ceiling, within a dimly lit room. The room smelled of mold, sweat, and long-dried blood; Aeron nearly gagged on the musty stench.
"Aeron!" the voice whispered again; he finally recognized it as belonging to his sister Erys.
He looked around for her and saw her stretched out on a low stone table, shackled by wrists and ankles to iron loops bolted to the table. What was left of her uniform was ragged and dirty, and her face was streaked with grime, but her violet eyes were bright and alert.
Aeron attempted to move and discovered that he was similarly secured. "Erys?" he whispered back.
"What have they been doing to you?" she asked, periodically glancing over at the chamber's crude wooden door.
"I'm not sure," Aeron replied. "It has something to do with mind-control. I've overheard enough to find out that the three of us are somehow either immune or highly resistant to its effects."
Erys gave him a questioning look. "Why?"
Aeron shrugged. "I have no idea. That scientist fellow, Zherron, said something about it. He also asked me about our eyes; apparently, he's never seen any other humans with violet eyes before."
"Do you think it's connected?" Erys asked.
"I don't see how, but it's possible," Aeron said. "I always figured it was just a family trait. Father says his father and grandfather both had violet eyes; his sister was the only member of his family he knew of that didn't."
"And all the men in the family go gray and then white early," Erys said thoughtfully.
"You think something in our blood makes us resistant to magic?" Aeron inquired.
"I think so," Erys affirmed. "That Zherron person has been doing some sort of tests on me for the last few days along with a man and woman who must be sorcerers. Whatever they're trying to do doesn't work on me, and Zherron said something about 'genetics', whatever that means."
Aeron was about to reply, but stopped suddenly, craning his neck to try to listen to a sound he heard.
"What is it?" Erys asked.
"Do you hear that?"
She frowned thoughtfully. "It sounds like… fighting."
The faint, muffled traces of steel clashing against steel and the high-pitched whining of magic blasts being exchanged grew steadily louder, until suddenly the door to their chamber slammed open and a dark-skinned young woman with red-streaked brown hair dove inside.
She held a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other, and as Aeron watched, she nocked the arrow and drew it back in one smooth, practiced motion. A moment later, a Divine Host soldier charged into the room and received the arrow in the throat. He toppled back through the open door, exploding into smoke as he hit the ground.
The young woman got up, dusting off her light brown trousers and sandy-green jerkin, and, surprisingly, somehow made her bow disappear by apparently tucking it into the back of her belt. When she glanced behind herself, Aeron finally saw her face, and was again startled when he recognized Lynaka's sister Erike.
"Aeron?" she said in equal surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same," he replied. "We were captured and brought here several days ago."
Erike drew the sword at her hip, a shining white blade with a blue hilt and a yellow gem set in the center of the wing-like crossguard. With an expert flick of her wrist, she sliced through the shackles around Aeron's ankles, then moved up to his wrists. "Are you well enough to travel?" she said. "We will have to leave this place quickly."
"I can fight, if need be," Aeron said determinedly as he sat up. "How did you find us?"
"A group of former slaves found us," she said as she moved over to free his sister. "We had come to the Far South to get more weapons and equipment from the Heavenly Vault, and as we were leaving, they came to talk to us. The Divine Host has allied itself with the slavers, and they are rounding up the former slaves in exchange for half the bodies, to ensorcel for their army. We tracked the slavers here, where we attacked them with the group of former slaves that have joined us."
"I thought Divine Host soldiers reconstituted after defeat," Erys said, pausing for a moment to contemptuously hurl her shackles across the room. "Their numbers are effectively limitless."
Erike gave her a fierce grin. "That puzzled me, also, until Daskin discovered that the soldiers are directly connected to their sorcerer commander; whenever we kill a sorcerer, his control over his soldiers is broken. Those that do not die are reduced to mindless drones, little more than animals, unable to be recruited by any other sorcerer. It seems that there is quite a bit of internal division and rivalry among the Divine Host's ranks, and each sorcerer enslaves his thralls in such a way that control over them cannot be wrested away from him."
"Is your sister here, as well?" Aeron asked, swinging his legs over the side of the table.
The grin abruptly vanished from Erike's face. "She was killed," she said tersely.
"I'm sorry," said Aeron, taken aback by this news.
"You may be able to help me avenge her," Erike said. "Is Ganondorf here?"
"He appears to be the commander of the Divine Host in this area," said Erys. "Although he has been absent of late, engaged in fighting the Goddesses' warriors that have appeared in the area."
Erike turned to her, a puzzled look on her face. "What warriors?" she asked. "This is the first I've heard of them."
A loud whoop that could only be described as joyously aggressive sounded from the hallway outside, and Aeron looked to the door to see four Divine Host soldiers rapidly retreating, shoving each other out of the way in their haste to get away from whatever was chasing them.
A lone young man sprinted past the door a moment later, a sword in one hand and a brilliant globe of crackling orange energy in the other. He stopped in the doorway and hurled the ball of energy, then pumped his fist and grinned fiercely at the sound of multiple explosions down the hall.
He glanced over at them. "Oh, hi there!" he said with incongruous cheerfulness.
It took Aeron a moment to recognize Daskin, the son of Lord Fenris, whom he'd met several weeks earlier. Contributing most to this was the fact that the young man's hair was quite a bit longer, nearly brushing his shoulders, and he'd acquired a scar under his left eye, three thin lines, that appeared long-healed, despite the fact that he hadn't had it the last time Aeron had seen him.
"Seen a Dark Lord around here lately?" he asked, sheathing his sword. "Tall, grouchy, red hair, needs a sword stuck through his heart a few times?"
"You mean Ganondorf?" said Aeron. "He might be around here somewhere. How is he alive again, by the way? I thought your parents killed him at the end of the war."
Daskin waved a hand dismissively. "Long story. We need to get you out of here. Would you mind leading the slaves back to our group while Erike and I go kill Ganondorf? There's a big guy named Teraq who knows where the encampment is; just follow him and help him keep everybody together."
Erike had been staring distractedly at the wall behind them for several moments, one hand on the hilt of the sword at her side. Daskin's affable smile faded into a grim expression as he looked over at her. "He's here, isn't he?" he said.
"I am not sure," Erike replied. "My Triforce is reacting to something, but I do not have enough experience to know what."
"It's him," Daskin confirmed gravely. "I feel it now." He turned to Aeron, and the young captain was struck at how thoroughly all trace of humor had disappeared from Daskin's eyes. "You'd better go," he went on. "This is going to get ugly."
Aeron reached out to clasp Daskin's shoulder. "Good luck," he said, and then he and his sister left, hurrying through the halls of the fortress to where they heard more fighting.
"We should see if Horys is here, also," Erys reminded him as they moved down the hall.
Aeron nodded, briefly stopping to pick up a sword dropped by a fallen Divine Host soldier. He tossed another to his sister. "Let's go."
Empress Zelda soared through the sky above her capital, rapidly loosing bursts of golden energy from her hands at random places along the tremendous flying fortress. A few cannons fired back at her, but only when she strayed near the enormous crystalline structure on the underside of the aerial behemoth.
While she genuinely was trying to do damage to the fortress, Zelda's efforts were devoted mainly to drawing attention away from Lord and Lady Fenris, who were working busily on the outside of the command tower.
Finally, Lord Fenris alerted Zelda to come and join them through the prearranged signal; a tremendous, roiling explosion that tore an enormous hole in the side of the central tower. The bright flash lit up the night, the sound of dozens of bombs detonating at once like a clap of thunder rolling over the embattled city.
The legions took it upon themselves to also use the explosion as a signal; mere moments after the command tower exploded, the cannons mounted along Belakar City's walls opened fire on the bottom of the fortress, resulting in dozens more small explosions. Zelda could also see arrows and crossbow bolts rising up like a swarm of locusts from the legions' formations scattered through the streets around the docks, though these were largely ineffectual.
Zelda flew through a rain of flaming debris, dodging and twisting in midair as she hurried to the side of the former Hero. From the sounds of fighting she heard as she approached the hole he'd blown in the command tower, she knew he and Midna were already inside. As she approached, she could periodically see a bright flash as Midna loosed another magic blast upon their enemies.
"The sorcerer's in the crystal room!" Midna called to her as Zelda touched down in an explosion-blackened hallway, drawing her sword as soon as her boots touched the steel-plated floor. "Be cautious; something doesn't feel right here."
"What do you mean?" Zelda asked, glancing over as Lord Fenris engaged a half-dozen Divine Host soldiers at once, not seeming in the least at a disadvantage. The sound of his sword smashing against the enemy weapons, and theirs bouncing off of his shield, was like metallic rain, so quickly were they moving.
"His magic feels funny," Midna said. "Sort of familiar, but not quite. I'm trying to figure out if I know him or not." She gestured toward what Zelda supposed was the command room, the moonlight and the fire from the explosion reflecting off of the dark metal of her armor. "If we can get in there, I can blast my way in easily enough."
"Should we help Lord Fenris first?" Zelda had to shout over the noise of the fighting.
Midna smirked, looking over at her husband. "I think he can take care of himself."
As Zelda watched, Lord Fenris bashed one solider with his shield, planted a foot on the soldier's knee as he recoiled, and hurled himself into a surprisingly agile back-flip over the head of another. Partway through his flip, Lord Fenris smashed his blade into the soldier's head, and the soldier's helmet flew off, smashing another in the face, though Zelda couldn't tell if Lord Fenris had planned this or it was simply fortune. As he landed, Lord Fenris swept his sword out in a powerful blow that clove the collapsing soldier in two, then immediately advanced through the smoke and stabbed his blade through the chest of another. Another of his opponents caught the pointed lower edge of Lord Fenris' shield in the stomach, while the fourth to die blinked in surprise at finding the former Hero's blade slid between his ribs to pierce his heart.
The surviving two glanced at each other, then turned around and fled. Lord Fenris chased after them, bellowing fiercely as he held his sword high.
Zelda turned an amused half-smile upon his wife. "Perhaps you are right," she said.
Midna led the way into the chaotic command room, where the two of them quickly dispatched the crew. Zelda was somewhat disturbed to note that most of the men did not turn to smoke, and instead remained where they fell. She put the thought from her mind, darkly reminding herself that these were not the first humans she had killed, though they were the first she remembered.
"Controls, controls… controls…" Midna muttered to herself, looking around the command room.
Zelda ran her eyes over the banks of consoles, all festooned with dials and switches completely foreign to her. The technology here was far advanced beyond anything with which she was familiar, but drawing upon the powers of the Triforce of Wisdom and her own keenly trained sense of logic, she began to put together a rudimentary understanding of the controls.
"It would, of course, be labeled in a language neither of us knows," Midna scoffed, giving one console a contemptuous kick.
A flicker of motion attracted Zelda's attention, and she looked over to see one of the men she had fought grimacing in pain, clutching the wound in his chest as he struggled to breathe.
Zelda drew her sword and crossed to where he lay, placing the point just over his heart. "Tell me how to operate this craft, and I will ease your passing," she said gravely.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, and used it to snarl what was undoubtedly a vile curse in his language. Zelda sighed impatiently and removed one of her gloves. She knelt at the man's side and placed her hand on his head.
Before Midna could ask her what she was doing, Zelda used her powers to rip the man's knowledge from his mind, ignoring his gasps and convulsions as she worked.
When Zelda rose, the man was still. Midna regarded her without expression, but seemed somehow disapproving. Zelda ignored her, crossing to the main control console. She worked quickly, sending the flying fortress on a fast course away from the city. She intended to crash it into the ocean, while the three of them would use their respective flying powers to escape.
Suddenly, a face flashed through Zelda's mind, and her fingers halted upon the controls. A deep-seated sense of fear rushed through her, and she froze, whispering the name that went with the face. When she came back to herself, she realized someone was shaking her shoulder, and looked over to see Midna standing next to her.
"Who's Ibnis?" the Queen of Twilight said, her tone sharp and quick, as if she had asked several times before.
"I am," a deep, exotically accented voice answered from behind them. "Again, Zelda, you try to interfere with my plans for you, unknowingly carrying out exactly what you were supposed to do."
Zelda slowly turned to see the dark sorcerer standing a few paces away, arms crossed over his chest and a smug grin upon his face. He wore a richly embroidered robe of black, dark red, and deep purple, metallic threads woven into the material gleaming in the dim light. His raven-black hair was loose about his shoulders, stirring faintly in the wind from the open door. Ibnis' eyes gleamed with purple light, his full power drawn about himself in preparation for both attack and defense.
"What are you talking about?" said Midna, the blue-green markings on her hands and the similar lines on her armor beginning to glow as she concentrated her own power.
"Oh, it's quite simple," Ibnis said with a sardonic smile. "When I altered Zelda's mind, her true self emerged; she tries so hard to keep her true personality hidden under layers of control and 'morality', but she is truly a tyrant-in-waiting; a cold-blooded, ambitious, power-hungry woman willing to do anything, even murder children, to accomplish her goals."
"You're lying," Zelda said, trying fiercely to keep herself under control. "You killed the Imperial Family, and tried to convince me I did it."
Ibnis merely smiled his terrible, unpleasant smile again. "No, my dear," he said, darkly amused. "You killed your uncle and his family. I merely gave you a little nudge in the right direction. It was your Triforce that undid my alterations, as I suspected it would, but the fact still remains that you are the worst sort of murderer. You have the blood of your father's family, even the children, upon your hands, and nothing you can ever do will remove it."
Zelda clenched her hands into fists to try to stop herself from shaking. "You're lying," she strained out, trying to keep her voice from wavering.
"How about we save the manipulative chit-chat for after we've both stomped you into the ground?" Midna said threateningly, taking an aggressive step toward the dark sorcerer.
Ibnis turned to regard her with another smug smirk. "My, for one who considers herself a queen, your manners are sadly lacking."
"So I've heard," Midna said with a sardonic smirk of her own. "You can commiserate with your master in whatever dark hole the Goddesses put you when I crush you both."
"Overconfident as well, I see," Ibnis said dryly. "I will indulge your lust for battle soon enough, 'my lady'," he said, putting mocking emphasis on the last words. "But for now, do try to control yourself; Empress Zelda and I still have things to discuss."
"What have you done with Horys?" Zelda demanded, hands still clenched at her side.
Zelda hadn't thought it possible, but Ibnis' smug grin turned even more unpleasant and malicious. "He is dead," he said with cruel mildness. "As are his brother and sister by now, I expect."
She wanted to believe it wasn't true, but the news still hit Zelda like a brutal kick to the stomach. She staggered back a step, bracing herself on the console behind her.
"Something makes his family either immune or highly resistant to most forms of magic, including mind control," Ibnis went on. "I gave your fiancé to Ganondorf's scientist to dissect to find out why." He actually laughed, filled with twisted amusement at her pain. "I am sure he suffered greatly before his end."
Something in Zelda snapped, and with an almost primal howl of rage, she hurled herself at the dark sorcerer, summoning her power to eradicate him from existence, down to the last speck.
Grinning cruelly, Ibnis held up a hand, and Zelda cried out in pain as she suddenly felt her power drain away. She collapsed to her knees, clutching her hands to her chest.
Ibnis looked past her to Midna, and triumphantly turned his hand around to show her the back, on which an upside-down Triforce marking shone with a dark gray light. "I am sure you recognize this," he said, hair stirring again as power built up within him. "Forged by Ganondorf, perfected by my god, and now wielded by me! Now do you understand the true power which stands against you?"
"This is not the first time I've faced a man using that…thing," Midna replied, her voice beginning to reverberate with power. Zelda looked back at her and saw that the Queen of Twilight's eyes now glowed brightly with blue-green light as she brought the full power of the Fused Shadows to bear.
"Think, Midna!" Ibnis said mockingly. "The Triforce of Shadow drains its power from the Bearers of the Triforce. I can drain every last drop of power from Zelda right now to stand against you. It will surely kill her, while I will survive. Are you willing to make that sacrifice to fight against me?"
"You only have access to a third of the Golden Power," Midna warned, her voice now echoing with a thunderous rumble. "I can kill you before you even start."
Ibnis clenched his hand, and Zelda cried out as even more energy was ripped from her, funneled into the dark sorcerer. She now lacked the strength even to keep herself upright, and collapsed to the cold metal deck.
"She is at the brink of death!" Ibnis cried. "A moment longer, and I will snuff the life from her as I would a candle!"
Midna took a step forward, and he again ripped energy from Zelda's body. Zelda screamed in agony.
"I will kill her!" Ibnis warned. "Stand down, or she dies!"
"Don't… do it!" Zelda strained out. "Kill him!"
"Her life is now in your hands," said Ibnis. "Surrender now, and I will spare her. Advance upon me, and she dies. Even you cannot act quickly enough to save her now. Only the barest spark of life remains within her; I can end her life in an instant."
Black swarmed around the edges of Zelda's vision. She felt weak, so weak, as if she were sliding down an endless slope with no way to stop. The last thing she saw before fading into darkness was Midna's face, twisted in conflict.
With a mighty blast of concussive force, Daskin smashed the door to Ganondorf's chamber completely off its hinges to careen inside, bouncing off the walls before finally coming to a noisy stop at the Dark Lord's feet.
The enormous circular chamber was set up like a training courtyard, completely devoid of obstacles in the center, with all of the furniture arranged around the outer walls. Ganondorf stood on the far side of the chamber, in front of a throne-like chair. His sword was in his hand, a jet-black copy of the Master Sword with a blood-red gem set into its crossguard.
"Dramatic as always, I see," Ganondorf observed dryly.
"Shut up!" Daskin snarled, swiftly advancing across the chamber, his own sword at the ready in his hand.
Erike was but a step behind him, similarly armed and determined. "You will answer for my sister's death, murderer," she vowed, her voice shaking with rage.
"Just like your fathers," said Ganondorf. "So eager to fight me, without even bothering to learn all the facts. Have you not wondered at the reasons behind my actions?"
"You are a traitor and a murderer," Erike replied. "That is all I need to know."
"How typical of the servants of the Goddesses," Ganondorf said contemptuously. "You are so convinced of your own righteousness that you do not bother to try to understand the situation as a whole." His amber eyes shifted to Daskin, to meet his gaze. "Did you pay no attention to the stories your parents told you as a boy, the tales of their adventures as they fought against me?"
"Stop trying to buy your life with words!" Daskin snapped. "You die, here and now."
"You think you know pain, boy?" Ganondorf roared, angry now. "You think you know tragedy, because you watched the woman you love die? You… know… nothing, nothing about the true state of things!"
With an angry scream, Daskin hurled himself at the Dark Lord, his sword flashing in a blazing fury. Ganondorf parried his first blow easily, then kicked him aside to cross blades with Erike, rapidly exchanging five strikes in quick succession before he knocked her, too aside.
Daskin charged again at the Dark Lord, holding his sword in both hands as he swung with all the skill and fury he possessed. Their swords crashed together again and again, sparking with each contact, and the sound of the clashing steel echoed from the stone walls.
Erike joined him after a moment, and the duel began in earnest. Both of them were skilled, enhanced by their powers, but Ganondorf's skill and power was easily a match for theirs. His dark blade flashed in the torchlight as he skillfully swept it through defensive patterns, keeping both of them at a distance.
Daskin pushed at Ganondorf with another blast of concussive force, knocking him back a step as he threw himself into the Helm Splitter technique his father had taught him. Ganondorf reached up with one long arm and brutally smashed the young warrior out of the air with a powerful blow to Daskin's chest from his fist. Daskin hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of his lungs, and he groaned as Ganondorf kicked him in the back hard enough to send him tumbling a few more feet across the floor.
As he struggled to regain his breath, Daskin watched Erike engage the Dark Lord, her blade a swelling storm of steel as she whirled it through an offensive pattern almost too quick to follow.
Incredibly, Ganondorf kept up, utilizing a perfect balance of footwork and sword movements to keep the Hero back.
Daskin slowly pulled himself to his feet, ready to charge in again.
Author's Note: Sorry this was a little late; I got distracted by writing one of my silly humor stories. I needed a break from the drama of this story for a bit, but now I'm nearly done with the humor fic, so I'm back to work on this again. I'm roughly one-third through writing Chapter 22 right now, so I'll try and have that up in a week or so. Till next time, thanks for reading!