Chapter 26: Gannondorf
Kaikara was very scared, but she met Ghirahim's gaze without flinching. "Not for me," she muttered, glaring. Ghirahim chuckled, and Kaikara swallowed hard. "Well, I'm here," she said, trying to sound impatient. She ended up sounding more nervous than annoyed. "Where's Trow?"
"He awaits you in the arena, of course," said Ghirahim. In a mockery of good manners, the demon stood back, extending his arm in toward the walled-off castle grounds, his gesture one of warmest welcome. "Do come in, good Hero."
Everything in Kaikara gut rose up against the idea, knowing that the second she stepped through that gate she would be at the mercy of her enemy, but there was no choice. Abandoning Trow was unthinkable…and even had Trow not been in danger, her own pride would not allow her to back down at this point.
She gave Ghirahim a filthy look before striding through the gateway. She looked back when the guards closed the gate with a very final sounding thud, and saw that a pair of them seemed ready to accompany her and Ghirahim to their destination.
Ghirahim walked at her side, that infuriating smirk on his lips. She glared at the side of his face. "Aren't you going to make me give over the sword?" It probably wasn't wise to bring it up, but she couldn't stand it: she had to know why he had not done that very thing.
Her enemy smiled at her, one that looked surprisingly un-smug. "Not at all, Hero. My master wishes to meet you in battle."
Kaikara stopped walking for a moment in surprise, staring up again only at a nudge from one of the guard's spears. She gave the guard a dirty look before turning back to Ghirahim. "…Why?"
"You'll find out when we get there. Now shut up, for once. By the gods, you Heroes talk more than an old woman."
Fuming at the insult, Kaikara asked no more questions.
After a few moments, Kaikara was able to calm herself enough to actually realize her surroundings. The grounds were actually very beautiful—the grass was well-tended and short, and gardens of flowers and green plants burst from every corner and niche. There was a gazebo of marble with benches and tables made of the same stuff, and Kaikara thought she might have glimpsed something through a flowery archway that might be a menagerie.
It was not the sort of place Kaikara enjoyed—she preferred the wild forests and grasslands that surrounded Woodvalley—but she couldn't deny its beauty. She was also surprised that it still looked so nice—but then Ghirahim was the type to like all that prissy, fussy neatness, and she imagined his master was probably big into ornate décor. It was all a matter of prestige and power…after all, commonfolk didn't have the resources for such displays.
The castle itself was immense—so big that the closer they got, the less sky was visible around it—it was like a man-made mountain. The walls were gleaming white, the spires and towers shone in the sun, and there were red and black banners hanging all over the place.
Kaikara wrinkled her nose. She did not know the word "pretentious", but she recognized it when she saw it. She was less than impressed.
A set of swirly, marble steps led up to the front doors, but Kaikara was not led inside. Instead, the guards herded her toward the side of the castle, where a narrow sort of alleyway stretched, bounded on one side by the castle, and on the other by what looked like barricades…and even those were all overgrown with flowering ivy.
"Where're we going?" asked Kaikara, suspicious, and once again nervous.
"The Arena," said Ghirahim, and Kaikara did not like how his eyes narrowed. She also did not like the sound of an "arena'. Ghirahim glanced down at Kaikara, who frowned warily, and his lips curled into a smile she had never seen before. She could not explain it, because she had never seen that kind of cold bloodthirstiness, but she knew she didn't like it.
She managed to muster enough sarcasm to mutter, "Great", but she was scared again.
Once they cleared the castle, the entire grounds behind the castle opened up into a vast area that looked much like the front grounds. There was a statue of Ghirahim that, despite herself, Kaikara gaped at with mixed exasperation and amusement. It figured.
There was a large and rather plain-looking brick building along the back wall. There was one door, outside of which stood two grim-looking guardsmen, and it was to this door Kaikara was brought. The guards did not say a word, only stood aside and let Ghirahim, the guards, and their prisoner through. It was clear almost immediately what the building was.
It was a prison.
The main hallway was lined with tiny, filthy cells with barred doors and a bucket that Kaikara was horrified to understand was probably meant to be a toilet. Some had a pile of dirty straw in the corner, but most were just made of stone.
It was dark and dank and chilly, and the smell was worse than any stable she had ever smelled. Kaikara had to suppress gagging.
Only a few cells were occupied, and each prisoner was dressed in rags and looked as if they hadn't eaten in days. One of them, huddled shirtless in the corner, had cuts across his back that could only have been made with a whip.
Kaikara felt faint with horror. She wondered what their crime had been. Surely nothing they could do would deserve this sort of appalling treatment? She sensed that Ghirahim was looking at her, likely to catch her reaction, but she could not her her eyes from the cells. She had never seen anything like this. Ever. This hopeless, horrible building had done far more to tax her courage than any threat Ghirahim could muster.
"My master's playthings," said the demon casually. "Those who fight when he wishes to see bloodshed."
Kaikara could only gape at him. They were not criminals, after all—only "playthings"? Rage began to supplant the fear, and she immediately thought of Trow. Had he been held in this terrible prison? If he had, Kaikara vowed to make them pay for that.
There was no more time for talk. The next door led into bright sunshine. They'd arrived.
The light nearly blinded Kaikara as she was propelled outside, and she stumbled on the suddenly uneven ground. No one bothered to grab her, of course, but she caught her own balance and scrunched up her eyes. Not wanting to be blind for long, she forced them to open little by little, ignoring the tears that coursed down her cheeks as her eyes watered in protest.
It was huge and loud. The arena was plain dirt—no grass. There were raised risers on three sides of the arena, the fourth side made up of the wall around the castle, through which the door from the prison led. The arena was surrounded by an iron fence taller than that which surrounded the castle, and each of its several gates was flanked by guards with swords, spears, or battle clubs.
The risers were full of people, and Kaikara realized that they must be townspeople, rounded up to see the spectacle. Kaikara's stomach twisted, sending chills through her body. Whatever was to happen, Ghirahim—or his master—wanted everyone to see. Maybe it wasn't to be a battle, but an execution.
Kaikara stopped short when Ghirahim grabbed the collar of her tunic and yanked backward. She yanked herself from his grasp with a dirty look, but stopped walking. She clenched her teeth for a moment and swallowed. "Now what?" she asked, happy to hear she sounded calm.
But she needed no answer. A noise from above and behind her caught Kaikara's attention and she twisted around, looking up at what looked like an observation box above the wall, built onto the roof of the prisoner quarters. An ornate iron railing bordered it on the front side, and within was red velvet swags of material. Stairs led down from either side of it, and within….
"Kaikara!"
Kaikara stepped back, her eyes wide, at Trow's voice—he was up there! But he wasn't alone. Beside him rose a dark, hulking figure, clade head to toe in black armor. The only color was his face, which was so tan it almost looked burnt, and his hair, which was long and as red as fire. Ice doused her heart at the sight of him; she knew he must be Ghirahim's master, the one who had subjugated the entire land.
But even this frightening specter did not overshadow her relief at seeing that Trow was alive and looked unharmed. "Are you okay?" she called.
Trow ran to the railing, looking down at her. He looked terrified, but okay. "Yeah, but—"
The figure in the observation box grasped Trow's shoulder and pulled him back, and Kaikara snarled. "HEY! Let him go! Now!" She drew the Master Sword.
The arena went eerily silent, and Kaikara could almost feel every eye in the place fixed on her. Beside her, Ghirahim chuckled, a dark and sinister sound. She did not look at him but at the figure above her. He had to be at least twice her height and wondered why—she had never met another adult so physically intimidating.
"Ah." The man in the observation box came to the forefront, peering down at her with eyes so bright green they looked like a cat's eyes in torchlight. He looked down at her and she could see a remarkably warm smile behind his beard, which was as red as her hair. "So, the hero finally stands before me. And she is but a small child."
His voice oozed malice and evil, things of which Kaikara had seen only hints until now. Now she faced evil in its purest form. She gripped the handle of the Master Sword and felt its energy harmonizing with the courage that had earned her the piece of the Triforce she held. "Who are you?" she called, her eyes narrowed, every nerve in her body ready to react.
She caught a glimpse of Trow, edging away, a look of almost comical alarm on his face. But the dark man paid Trow no mind; he only stood up straight, smiled, and boomed, "You stand before Gannondorf, Master of Hyrule and lord of all the lands!" His smile shone out as he leaned down toward Kaikara, flinging the cape he wore behind him. "And how happy I am to finally meet you. You have caused me trouble immeasurable, and now comes the time for a proper response."
Kaikara's gaze flickered toward Ghirahim, but he only stood casually against a nearby pillar, smiling. It was clear that Kaikara would be fighting Gannondorf alone. She looked back up. "Let Trow go!"
"Ah, but he is already on his way down to meet you." Gannondorf nodded toward the stairs, and Kaikara saw that Trow had slipped away from the observation box and was running down toward the ground. Kaikara broke away from the guards and ran to meet him.
Trow flung himself at her, nearly knocking her asprawl, and burst into frightened and relieved tears. Near tears herself and only barely able to hold them back, she held him tightly, glaring death up at Gannondorf. "Are you okay?" she asked Trow quietly. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"
Trow struggled to shake his head, which he had pressed so tightly into Kaikara's arm that he could barely move it. "No. Well, Ghirahim stepped on my hand. After I shot him. But it's okay."
Ghirahim looked dour. "Yes, that's two I owe him," he said drily.
"It's okay," said Kaikara. "Just…" She could not finish, because she didn't know how. She didn't know if they were going to get out of here alive, but she was going to try like hell—for Trow, if not herself.
He finally broke from her and they both looked up to Gannondorf.
Realizing they were waiting for his next move, the usurper laughed, a sound as evil as his presence, and suddenly leapt up from his perch, landing as neatly as a dancer on the ground before them. Trow screamed with surprise and Kaikara pushed him backwards, stumbling away from Gannondorf herself. She was shocked at his lithe speed, and any hope that she might be able to get them both out of there alive began to wither.
But Gannondorf did not attack, at least not yet. Instead, he turned his back on his young adversaries, addressing the assembled townspeople. "You see the Hero standing before me!" he cried, his powerful voice carrying to every corner of the arena. "This tiny child, standing against me and my lieutenant at every turn! See her now—for you will not see her again! You will watch her death at my hands!"
Kaikara backed up a few more steps, her sword ready, wondering how in the name of the Goddesses how she could battle someone who so clearly outmatched her.
The crowd was utterly silent—unnaturally so. Kaikara wondered what they had heard of her and Trow, what they knew of their triumphs. She wondered how much hope she and Trow might have given them…or how much hope might die with her is she perished at Gannondorf's hands.
Gannondorf turned at least to face her. "You will fight me," he said, his voice now a quiet and menacing rumble. "Triumph, and she and your brother shall go free." He smiled again, holding his hand silently out to one of the nearby guardsmen, who reached behind him and handed Gannondorf a very familiar bow and quiver. They were Trow's. He raised them, and Kaikara flinched slightly, but all he did was to throw them toward Trow.
Trow managed to duck out of the way, but not to catch them. He blinked at Gannondorf for a moment before grabbing his weapons and hurrying to strap on his quiver. Kaikara was proud of how quickly he recovered.
"We will step into the arena," said Gannondorf. "And we will do battle."
Kaikara considered, cocking her head slightly. "What if we won't fight?" she asked.
The guardsmen around her shifted, and Ghirahim stood straight up, snapping his fingers and summoning one of his daggers. Kaikara looked around uneasily.
"Then you will die an honorless death," said Gannondorf coldly. "Executed like a rabid dog. What is your decision?"
Kaikara and Trow exchanged a look, and neither of them had to say anything. As if with one mind, the two young heroes turned their backs on Gannondorf and walked toward the center of the arena. There was a quiet rumble of approval from the surrounding townspeople.
Kaikara turned to face her foe, pulling her shield from her back.
Gannondorf did not look angry; he looked pleased. "The tales of your courage are true, then," he said. "And you accept my challenge."
Kaikara took a big breath. "Yeah. Bring it on!"
Ghirah8im snorted rather derisively, but Gannondorf only nodded, striding gracefully to the middle of the arena, facing Kaikara and Trow from ten yards away.
Kaikara stood there, unsure of what to do, wondering if she should attack while he wasn't expecting it, or if she should wait. Who knew what rules she might inadvertently break, causing Gannondorf to set Ghirahim and the assembled guards on them?
"Well?" she said finally. "Don't you have a weapon?"
Gannondorf chuckled. "Of course. Behold." He looked over at Ghirahim and Kaikara followed his gaze, expecting the demon lord to attack from the side…but Ghirahim did not. Instead, he walked slowly toward Gannondorf, stopping when he was still several yards away. Kaikara frowned, not understanding, when Gannondorf snarled like a wild animal and raised one hand.
What happened then would stay in Kaikara's mind for years to come. A wave of pure, sick evil suddenly connected Gannondorf and his servant, striking Ghirahim in the chest. Ghirahim screamed, his back arching, his knees nearly buckling.
"What's he doing?" Trow cried, his face a mask of shock. But Kaikara could only shake her hand. She could feel the waves of malignance and hatred emanating from the dark energy.
A flash of purple light engulfed Ghirahim and he rose from the ground as if on a rope. His scream was cut short and the light disappeared at once, leaving the arena as quiet and bright as it had been all along. Ghirahim was gone.
When Kaikara looked back at Gannondorf, he held a black broadsword in his hands, its blade glinting razor sharp in the sunlight, spike and curves gliding from it.
Kaikara did not know what happened, and her shock was nearly her death. Gannondorf gave no warning. With not even a battle cry to warn her, Gannondorf grasped the handle of the blade and ran at Kaikara, sword held high.
Trow gave a cry of alarm and Kaikara was able to move. She dove from Gannondorf's lunge, deflecting his blade with her shield. The blow was like a boulder hitting her, and she was knocked nearly off balance.
She was going to die here, she was sure of it—but she had no time to think of mortality. The adrenaline surged through her body and she was suddenly hyper aware of everything—she saw every move Gannondorf's muscles made, could smell the sweat from all three of them, could hear the slightest tremor of joints and weaponry.
With a snarl, she lunged.