Ike's horse was limping. A beautiful black stallion it was too, he thought as he led it into the horse dealer's. But he couldn't ride a lame horse, and he couldn't delay his trip either. The dealer took the horse from him, examined it, and on agreeing it would soon be back to health agreed to exchange it for any other horse Ike could see.
There were rows of horses, row after row after row. After he had walked down the first row Ike was already bored. They all looked pretty average with chestnut or mottled grey coats, none of them particularly standing out. The second row wasn't much different. Didn't the dealer have any other black stallions? But then, at the end of the fifth row, a beautiful white horse came into his sight. He hurried towards it. Its coat was a flawless white, smooth and beautiful. Smiling he walked down the length of the horse, examining it until he reached its head.
"Oh my God!" Ike jumped, backing away.
"My apologies," said the dealer, who was right behind him. "There were complications with the mother during pregnancy, and unfortunately the skull of this beautiful mare is a little deformed."
"A little! A little?" Ike exclaimed. The mare had a large twisted lump about three inches long sticking out over one eye, like a horn. The eye below the bulge was distorted, droopy and sorrowful. He left the horse immediately and scanned all the rest of the rows, but there were no handsome black stallions or any other stunningly white horses either. Ike struggled for a long moment.
"Is she fit for riding?" he asked, returning the deformed horse.
"Aye, she's as good as any. Great stamina and speed, but no one will have her because of that bone defect. I feel sorry for the poor girl."
Pity stirred in his heart. She was beautifully white, after all, and he did need to hurry. There was nothing for it. "I'll take her," he said, and shook hands with the dealer. "Have her saddled, if you will. I need to leave immediately." His black armour clinked as he reached for his purse.
o
Roy balked in horror as he saw dust rise in the road ahead of him. Storming through the thick thorns, slashing them down with blades as long as a man, the guards were coming for him. Wearing heavily plated armour they came; the shoulder pads spiked and the knees also. He began to reach for his sword, but he didn't stand a chance.
Within minutes it was over. Roy was left in the dust wearing little more than tattered undergarments; armourless, weaponless, and badly wounded with deep gashes in his arms and legs. He gasped for breath, gurgling blood. Around him were bits of thorns and endless road. He had to get help. Spitting out a mouthful of blood he crawled forward helplessly, not knowing where he was going. The harsh sun beat down on his bare back. He must look hideous, he thought, smoothing over his hair with one hand.
"Mummy," he wailed. What had gone wrong? This saving princess business was supposed to be easy.
o
Marth watched as the guards barged their way through the thorns. Those thorns took two years to grow that thick. For all the guards' fighting technique they couldn't half be thick sometimes. He sighed. Did he even want to be saved from this tower anyway? It was luxurious and had a double bed and a large bath, a maid who brought him delicious food three times a day, and plenty of dresses and accessories for him to amuse himself playing dress-up for some years yet. To put it plainly: he had got used to it, and the thought of leaving his highly protected tower actually scared him a little bit. No, he was perfectly contented as he was.
o
Ike rode his newly acquired horse with a touch of shame. People were always looking at that horrible bulge above its eye and he wished he'd gone for an ordinary horse instead. But now, after a week of going from inn to inn, he had almost reached the beginning of the road of Pain and Destruction. He sat up straighter in the saddle, and then realised by doing so that there was something wrong with his armour. Worried, he drew the horse to a halt and pulled off the chest plate to look at it. The hinges at the shoulders looked like they had loosened almost to the point of falling apart. Well that wouldn't do. He swung his leg over and dropped to the ground. Just as well he'd brought a spare set of armour just in case something like this happened. But it was such a shame – the black set was so amazingly shiny and striking, never failing to turn heads. His other set was a standard silver, good enough for a knight, perhaps, but not really for him, a lord. At least it still had the red plume on top of the silver helmet. There was nothing for it. Annoyed that both his stunning black stallion and his stunning black armour had fallen through, he changed into the silver armour and got back into the saddle. The road lay before him, a promise of happily ever after. With a battle cry, he urged his horse into a gallop and raced towards it.
There was something wrong with the road of Pain and Destruction. For a moment Ike struggled to pinpoint it, and then he remembered. There were meant to be thorns blocking this road, thorns so thick and dense they were impossible to cut through even with a sharp saw. Thorns that ripped through armour and skin as easy as paper. But there were none blocking his path. There were, however, plenty either side of the path, but only bits of thorns lay across the centre – bits which his horse could simply step over. Strange. Maybe someone had decided to finally get round to some gardening. The fortress could certainly do with some – it was so dark and looming that some flowers were definitely in order to brighten things up a bit. Lying to one side of the path Ike suddenly saw a man in tattered undergarments, badly bleeding. He seemed to be crawling in the direction of the castle. Perhaps he was the gardener, and had gotten badly wounded by the thorns whilst pruning. Ike dismounted and helped the man to his feet.
"Are you alright?" he asked. "Are you the gardener?"
"Armour… beat me…" the man gasped, barely able to hold himself upright.
"They took your armour? Who? Why did they beat you?"
"Guards... attack…"
"The guards attacked you? The famous ones that are nine feet tall, half bull and have horns that can pierce steel?" Well that was impossible. Why would they attack a harmless gardener? The poor man must be going delusional from his wounds.
Said man coughed up blood, spat to one side, and then slumped out of Ike's arms to the ground, where he lay moaning.
"I'll get help for you. But I'm busy right now; I have a princess to rescue." The man just moaned. Ike got back on his horse. If the man was a gardener, he hadn't done a very good job. There were weeds in the road, and they writhed as if alive. What kind of weeds did that? Ike took out his sword, and rode forward, cutting down the peculiar weeds as he went, in order to make it neat and tidy. He considered it a respect paid to the gardener, who was obviously in too ill health to finish the job.
