Chapter 4: The Gathering Storm
It was almost uncomfortable how much the people of Hyrule did for their royalty. Ganondorf had been declared king from the moment he had been born, but he had been expected to fight on the front lines, cook his own meals, care for his own equipment. He may have had a few more privileges than his sisters, but it was nothing to the extent of the Hylians and their Royal Family.
He walked out of the palace and saw that his horse, Storm, was already prepared for him. With his packs neatly tied down. Half of the items hanging off his saddle he had worried he'd somehow lost in the night.
And Storm did not seem to like it. The great black horse had been a gift by his mothers from years back. A foul tempered beast that he had been expected to tame. 'To teach you how to subjugate others to your will.' They had told him, but he had not found Storm that hard to ride. But the horse hated when anyone else touched him.
"Sarqso," he said to the stablehand that tried to walk Storm to him. But before she could respond the horse reared back and nearly kick the woman's head. Ganondorf rushed to his mount and grabbed the reins. "Calm now. It's only me."
The stablehand, scrambled to her feet and backed away. Leaving Ganondorf alone with Storm until he could stop the breast from stomping and snorting.
By the time, Storm calmed the doors of the castle opened and his sisters descended the stairs with their equipment in hand. But they were not alone. Hylian servants and warriors walked with them.
"You sure none of us can come along, eh?" Ralph walked up to Ganondorf with a smile. He was only a guard, and not one of the nobility that earned the rank of knight. But when Ganondorf stayed at the castle he saw the man watching his bouts against the knights in the training yard and asked the man to face him.
Somehow, Ralph took getting beaten bloody with blunted swords as a reason he had befriended the King of the Gerudo.
"We could all use a good hunt," Sir Bennison said a step behind the guard.
"Would that I could take you," Ganondorf said. "But this hunt is in honor of our gods and goddesses. Only my fellow Gerudo can partake."
"Fine, fine. I'll stop pestering you about it." Bennison said. "Try to have some fun, though, aye?"
Ganondorf mounted Storm then clasped Bennison's extended arm. "When I return, I'll see about organizing a real hunt. For all the great warriors of Hyrule."
Some of the nearby knights cheered, and even some of his own sisters took up the rally as well. Ganondorf forced himself to smile and wave over them all and found it, easy. It shouldn't be this easy, should it? Among the Gerudo sharing blood and water with someone made them family. Over his time in the castle he had bled each of them on the training yard and drank with them most nights. And yet, he found he could lie to them all as easy as breathing.
Perhaps that would make his mother's proud?
"Gerudo King!" Came a voice from the top of the stairs. King Liotidos of Hyrule stood in his ceremonial robes, his hand raised. "I would ask you not to empty my entire castle of knights." His voice was light as if they were dear friends.
"My king! I did not expect to see you, before I left."
"A king should always pay such respect to a loyal vassal. When can I expect your return?"
"It depends on the portents of the ancestors. Usually it doesn't take more than a week or two." More lies, but that he felt nothing now did not surprise him at all. The King of Hyrule was no king at all, as far as Ganondorf could tell. A bloated fool, fat from feasts and simple of mind. He never once took part in the training bouts nor did anything without wasting half a day listening to fools who claimed some deep knowledge they certainly didn't possess.
"Then I wish your hunt fruitful, and your ancestors pleased!"
"Thank you, my king!" Ganondorf kicked at his horse letting it rear high. He held up his sword in a salute.
Most of his Gerudo took their mounts and headed toward the gates of Castle Town, until only one had not yet taken to horse.
Nabooru stood beside a Hylian almost as tall as she, the one called Sir Jora who had tried to shield the king with his own body when Ganondorf burst through the doors of the king's study a few days before. "I will count the days until we meet again, Lady Nabooru." the knight took Nabs' hands and kissed them.
"As will I," Nabooru finally turned to her mount, the knight helping her up. "When I return we shall have to have a rematch."
"I do not think I can get lucky a second time. Fair well, my lady."
Nabooru rode beside Ganondorf and together they made their way to the front of the procession. She wouldn't meet his eyes until they were well outside the city walls.
"By the Goddesses, Nabs. You're blushing."
"Oh hush. It's nothing." But the red of her cheeks grew even brighter.
"Of course. Nothing… with a knight."
"What? He's pretty."
"When did you start caring about pretty?"
"Just because my best friend had the misfortune of getting a handful of ugly sand thrown in his face when he was born, doesn't mean a vai can't enjoy pretty."
"Well that just felt unnecessary."
"Yeah? Well. Don't poke your oversized nose into my love life then."
That got a chuckle out of him. "Fair enough." They rode on. A few times Ganondorf tried to go over some of the details of what they were to accomplish on the trip, but Nabooru seemed distracted through all of it. Constantly glancing behind them and looking at the ground with a smile on her lips. "You're still thinking about him."
"How can I not! He's not just pretty, he's brave too. Remember the third day at Sotari Pass?"
"Third day? You mean when you took a lance and we all thought you were going to die? That third day at Sotari?"
"Yes. He was the one that got me! Came up to me when we became allies and apologized for it. It was the sweetest thing I've ever seen."
"Ahh," Ganondorf shook his head. "One of us is going mad. And for once, I'm certain it's not me."
"Oh shut up."
"Have your fun, Nabs. But do not forget what we are trying to accomplish here."
Nabooru sighed and looked back at the castle once more, before finally meeting Ganondorf's eyes. "I will never forget. I'm with you, until the end. And a pretty face won't change that."
It took four days hard ride before they reached the cliffs. The deep clouds cast shadows over the ground, half covering up the crude markers the moblins had arranged around their territory.
At its base lay a human skull, torn apart by birds and flies. From the dried brown of blood marks on the wood it was clear that the skull once stood atop it. Fresh. He thought on his sisters he sent to bring the message to moblins, Boszura who enjoyed dancing before every battle and Tressa who would rather write her poetry than hold a bow or sword, but did her duty all the same. Would they have gone, he wondered, if they knew what awaited them?
Nabs walked over to the skull and frowned. "I'm getting a suspicion this is the place." She looked back over at Ganondorf, "You certain about this? Moblins are as likely to eat us as they are to listen."
Ganondorf sighed, "You will not speak that way in front of our hosts, I hope." This had to play out exactly right. If one point he anticipated went wrong the meeting could end in disaster.
"I'm no fool. But I'm telling you, this is a bad idea."
"Noted," Ganondorf dismounted Storm. The rest of his warriors followed him. From among them he ordered two to stay back and guard the horses as the rest entered moblin territory.
He whispered to Nabooru. "When the fight breaks out. Don't attack the chief."
"Wait, I thought you said this was to make an alliance? Why will there be a fight?"
"They're moblins," Ganondorf shrugged. "Of course there will be a fight. But there is a way this needs to happen. Just be respectful, until I give the signal. You hear that everyone?" He called over his shoulder to the rest of his warriors.
A dozen Gerudo raiders, in their light battle armor with bows over their shoulders and swords at their side all called their agreement.
"And try not to kill too many of them."
"I'll make no such promise," Nabooru muttered.
There was no beauty in the moblin territory. Shuttered off into the caverns and low places between the lands carved out by their betters. If there was one creature that may have a rougher life than a Gerudo, it would be these moblins.
Ganondorf's lip curled as he stepped over a half eaten carcass. Of course, the difference is the moblin's deserve it. In silence they walked to the hide and bone huts and the guard of the grotesque creatures that waited for them.
"Gerudo," one of the guards stepped forward. A big one, with puffed out cheeks and drooping ears. Saliva dribbled down its chin onto armor cobbled together from mismatched pieces. A Hylian knight's breastplate overtop a Gerudo's riding leathers all broken and ripped with crude stitched furs holding them together. "My master, welcomes you."
"Has Morqut gathered all those he claimed?"
"I cannot say," the beast snorted. "I do not know who he claimed. But over the last few days several tribes of Octorok, Lizalfos, and even a Dodongo have come."
No mention of bokoblins, or goriya? Not the ruin of his plan by any means. But the loss of the lynel stung. "They will have to do. Bring me to your warchief."
Nabooru stepped to Ganondorf's side as the moblins paraded them through the cluster of hovels and huts. "I thought we were just meeting one moblin tribe?" she hissed.
"I never said that."
"One tribe we can take. You expect violence will break out when we have all of them to deal with? We don't have enough warriors to handle them all."
"Nabs," Ganondorf gave her a confident smile. "Trust me." When will she learn that he had everything worked out? When would she stop questioning his power?
SHE SHOULD BE TAUGHT A LESSON.
Ganondorf forced his confident smile to remain. He knew that part of him that wished to lash out at everyone around him. It'd been with him since he was born. But like everything else he just needed to focus. Force it down. Having a second in command that questions him is useful. It keeps his mind focused.
Don't let my base desires control me. Now is the time for focus.
Ganondorf could hear the congregation far before the guards brought them to the massive fire where the leaders of the tribes sat. All the monsters in the dark parts of the world seemed together. Every creature the guard mentioned and more. Hundreds of them, perhaps thousands sat at other distant fires.
The great brute that many called the King Dodongo laid on the ground. Even after all his research, Ganondorf was uncertain if the creature was actually intelligent. It stretched like a hound before it settled it's head close to the fire. Various chiefs of the Lizalfos sat pruning their vivid scales. While moblins of different shapes and sizes sat each trying to look stronger than those that sat beside them.
And in front of them all, in the highest throne of a chair sat one grey-skinned moblin. Massive, with a full belly, but arms and legs that showed his waist hid great muscle underneath. His face was entirely covered with a great steel helm, shaped like a Dodongo skull. Unlike those of the other warriors it seemed to have been constructed that way by a smith of some skill.
"Chief Morqut the Thrice-Cursed," Ganondorf called to the moblin and nodded his respect. "It is well to finally meet you."
"King of Gerudo, No, that is wrong now isn't it?" The moblin smiled. "A king who gave up his throne. What does that make you? Just a man like any other."
Ganondorf glanced over to Nabs. Her jaws were set and her nose flared. Good, she was at least holding in her anger. "I had hoped, mighty chief that we would speak to each other with more civility. Where are Boszura and Tressa? Where are my messengers?"
"I received them. And the words you gave for them to tell me? You ask me to pledge myself to you? You? You, the Gerudo that lost the war of your ancestors?"
"I ended a war, I did not lose it."
"Ended," Moqut waved aside the word as though it were a fly. "Clever words from a clever man to hide your failures," the massive moblin shifted on his throne, leaning forward, his eyes wide beneath his helm. "But what does your cleverness get you? Eh? You are too weak to beat the Hylians. You are too weak to rule moblins."
The crowd about them hollered and cheered at their chief's words.
Ganondorf let out a long breath. He couldn't lose his temper yet. Slaying the creature now made him look an assassin. He needed to be attacked and win. He needed to prove himself to this filth. He looked around the fire at the kings and chieftains of a dozen clans. "How many are you now? Thousands? As numerous as the Hylians? Perhaps all the Hylians and Gerudo? More? And yet where do you live? Under trees and mountains. Under fed and dying quick. That is what you get with your tribal leaders who don't even deserve to call themselves chief."
"What are you doing?" Moqut said. "You're talking to me, not them. I'm the one that beat Grollump the Limper. I'm the one who brought them the heart of the Big Goron."
"He has brought you nothing but empty bellies and cold homes. Join me, and you will be lifted higher than any Hylian. Free to take what you want from those people that hunted you down for all your lives."
"More clever words," Moqut cried. "But remember the weakness of the Gerudo! Bring them out!"
From behind the Moblin Chief four moblin warriors ran forth carrying two heavy chests. They overturned the chests and bones rolled out. Bones with meat and blood still dripping off them. It was as he thought then. Well sisters, you gave your lives to a glorious cause. I will not let you die in vain.
"Your messengers were tough and sour," Moqut laughed and patted his belly. "There is my answer to your proposal, Man of the Gerudo."
Nabooru stepped past, Ganondorf, her eyes wide. The sword already in her hand. Ganondorf held out his arm to block her path. "Not yet," he whispered.
"Then hurry up and get to it," Nabs hissed.
"Unlike you," Moqut shouted. "I will not give up my crown. And when I prove myself stronger than the Gerudo all that I have gathered here will bow to me! Guards!"
Behind him, Ganondorf heard the moblins that led them to the meeting rush forward. "Nabs." Was all he needed to say before he heard the clash of steel and the war cries of his guards.
He stepped forward his arms held out. "You think me weak, Thrice-Cursed?" In his hand the massive black greatsword of the Gerudo Kings appeared. "Then let us test our strength."
The moblin chief screamed and jumped from his throne. Three knives flew through the air before he even hit the ground. One went wide, one Ganondorf cut through the air with his blade, but the last struck him under the arm and rattled against his breastplate.
Ganondorf tried to reach the moblin before he got himself steady. But the moblin was fast for his bulk. One of the other moblins threw him a heavy maul which he snatched from the air as though it were nothing.
"Die!" Moqut screamed and lashed at Ganondorf with the maul. But wherever the weapon went, Ganondorf's blade met it. The moblin was strong, but after the second parry Ganondorf knew he was stronger. The moblin was fast, but Ganondorf had faced faster foes in his years of war and none had beaten him yet.
"You wish to know what to call me." Ganondorf said as he smashed the moblin's weapon down and struck him in the gut with his elbow. The maul spun away as the chief howled and fell back. Around them the screams of dying Moblins sounded as beautiful as the finest music. All of their dying voices may as well be a chorus praising his name.
"A weapon!" the chief shouted. "Give me a weapon!"
"I am the last son of the desert." He stomped on the moblin's thick ankle and felt it snap beneath him. "I am the scourge of all who defy me."
Moqut managed to get his hands on another small blade, and thrust with it. Though still on his back there was no force behind the blow. Ganondorf smacked it aside with the back of his gauntlet.
"I am the greatest of the Gerudo, the fiercest warriors that ever walked beneath the Sun!" He willed witch-fire into his hand. His soul sang as power coursed through him.
THIS IS WHAT YOU WERE BORN TO DO.
He grabbed hold of the moblin's helmet. The black-purple flame enveloped the creatures head.
"Mercy!" Moqut Thrice-Cursed screeched. "Mercy!" Until the helmet crumbled in Ganondorf's hand and the fire spread about his face. Then the word mercy turned to ash, and all Moqut could do was writhe and screech. And soon even that ended.
"You want to know what you can call me?" Ganondorf pulled with all his might and raised the flaming skull of their chief high. He clenched his fingers into a fist and the skull burst into dust. "I am Ganondorf Dragmire! And you shall call me King!"
