Chapter
Why we failed pt. 14
Broken
As the Dragoon's great sword cleaved through the air, Link nimbly evaded, the blade slicing nothing but the damp evening mist. With the agility borne of desperate necessity, Link countered deftly, his poleaxe's spearpoint feinting a thrust to provoke the brute into a reckless response. True to Link's strategy, the Dragoon lunged for a brutal counterstrike.
Seizing the moment with a dancer's grace, Link pivoted, redirecting his weapon's hefty backend in a powerful arc aimed not at the man's armored chest but his half-shielded face. Yet, the Dragoon recoiled in time, the poleaxe merely grazing his helm—a mere irritant rather than the incapacitating blow Link had hoped to deliver. Though Link harbored no desire to maim, he knew a solid blow to the head might expedite a quick surrender.
"Not that easy kid!" the Dragoon barked defiantly.
"I never said it would be easy winning," Link shot back, his weapon poised and ready.
"Fool, you won't be winning at all!" With these words, the Dragoon surged forward, a torrent of disguised steel unleashed in slashing fury. Link found himself pressed, each dodge transitioning into desperate parries as golden sparks sprayed where the deceptive steel met the heft of his poleaxe. Though resilient thanks to its weight, bronze began to give way and shards of his breaking weapon scattered, twinkling like dire stars around them.
Driven into a strategic corner, Link's situation grew dire—until the arena itself seemed to respond to the climax of their battle. With a mechanical groan, the pillars and battlements that had risen like specters of war now sank back into the earth, leaving the fighters enclosed in a circle of ominous orange light. What now? Link thought.
The Dragoon's grin was malevolent in the glow. "Hope you're ready. There's no way out now."
Link, his expression one of grim resolve, clutched his beleaguered poleaxe. Despite the obscured vision from his dented helm, he couldn't risk revealing his true identity, not yet. He understood what this moment demanded. It was time to conclude this duel, decisively. How to achieve that, under these constraints, was the only question left unanswered.
The arena was a crucible of fierce anticipation, the air thick with the scent of scorched earth and the tang of sweat and fear as the Sheikah pyrotechnics framed the duelists in a circle of blazing light. Link, disguised as Helmsworth, faced his daunting adversary, the Dragoon, whose great sword glared with a malicious promise under the flickering flames.
The crowd's roar, a maelstrom of cheers and boos, seemed to fade into a background murmur as the two warriors circled each other. Link's grip tightened around the haft of his poleaxe, the metal cold and unyielding beneath his palms. His breaths came in visible puffs in the chill air, each one tasting of the crisp, impending rain that threatened above.
"You can do it, Sir! Get him!" Jun shouted from the sidelines, his voice cracking under the weight of his concern. He stood on his tiptoes, trying to get a better view over the throng of spectators.
The Dragoon seized on Link's momentary distraction and lunged suddenly, his great sword slashing down in a vicious slash. Link narrowly sidestepped, the tip of the blade grazing his armor. Utilizing the momentum, Link twirled his poleaxe expertly, the backend of the weapon sweeping towards the Dragoon's legs in an attempt to unbalance him. The soldier leaped back just in time, his sneer visible beneath his visor. It was then Link caught an iron fist to the face. The Dragoon's true intended target. The swipe of the sword was merely just a lure. Luckily, his helm endured most the blow, but it was enough to rattle his jaw and bloody his lip.
"Is that all?" the Dragoon mocked, his laugh harsh and grating.
Link's mouth tightened, his grip on the poleaxe firming as he returned to circle his foe, the sandy floor of the arena warm under his boots from the encircling orange flames that entrapped them. He knew now not to take the situation lightly and watched the Dragoon's movements intently, each step measured and precise despite the adrenaline that surged through his veins.
Arasmus watched with a viper's smile from his high seat, his eyes glinting with dark delight as he observed Zelda's tense posture. "Watch closely, my dear," he murmured, though Zelda scarcely heard him over the thunder of her own heartbeat in her ears. She felt the rough wood of the balcony rail under her fingers, the splinters catching at her skin as she gripped it, her knuckles white.
On the field, the Dragoon taunted Link with brutal swipes, his sword a blur of gold colored steel that whooshed menacingly close each time. Link was clearly on the defensive, each parry forcing him backward, his boots slipping in the mud that clung hungrily at his steps. The metallic taste of adrenaline and blood filled his mouth, a sharp contrast to the smoky air filled with the aroma of burning pitch and sweat.
Link's poleaxe was a cumbersome friend in the tight circle, its length an advantage and a curse, as he needed space to maneuver it effectively. The Dragoon exploited this, pressing closer with each thunderous step of his heavy armor, the sound a constant clangor that matched the erratic beating of Link's heart.
Zelda's breath caught as she watched Link stumble, a near-miss by the Dragoon's blade sending a spray of mud up that spattered Link's visor, obscuring his vision with dark, wet earth. She could almost taste the grit, imagining the minerality of it against her tongue, her stomach churning with dread.
Jun, on the sidelines, felt helpless, his youthful face drawn with worry as he watched his Sir, his new mentor, faltering under the relentless assault. "Come on, Sir!" he shouted, his voice cracking, the scent of his own fear sharp in his nostrils like the edge of a knife. "Please, he's right there, you almost had him!"
The Dragoon's laughter was a cruel sound that cut through the clamor of the arena. "Is this all you can muster? And to think, we were worried about you getting in the way." he jeered, his voice carrying clearly.
Link's gaze narrowed, looking through the visor of his helm. What does that mean? Who's worried? He swung again, a blow that Link barely blocked with the shaft of his poleaxe, the impact sending a shudder through his arms and a shockwave of pain up his already aching shoulders from when he fell off his mount.
Zelda's breath caught in her throat as she watched Link being driven back by the Dragoon's relentless assault. "Come on, Helmsworth," she whispered, so softly that it was lost in the noise of the arena.
Zelda couldn't stand it any longer. She felt a sickening twist of her belly as she watched Helmsworth pushed ever backward, her hand flying to her mouth. "No…" she whispered, the word barely a breath.
Suddenly, the Dragoon made a powerful downward strike, aimed to end the duel once and for all. Then, as if the skies themselves responded to the unfolding tragedy below, a bolt of lightning cleaved the dark sky above, casting a stark, bright light over the arena. The ensuing thunder was like a signal, a cue to which Link responded. He used the flash to his advantage as he knew it caught his foe's eyes. And as the Dragoon raised his sword for what might have been a finishing blow, Link ducked low in the brilliance, getting lost in it.
With a grunt of effort, Link swung his poleaxe in a low arc, the backend of the weapon sweeping toward the Dragoon's legs. The move was unexpected, desperate, and it worked. The Dragoon toppled; his sword barely held loose in his grasp as he hit the ground with a heavy thud that sent a spray of sand into the air. And with all the strength Link could muster he swung the hammer end of his weapon against his foe's, launching the blade skyward to fall outside the ring of fire.
Zelda gasped and her heart stopped. The crowd erupted around her, but she could only see Link as he stood over the Dragoon, poleaxe poised. She could taste the tension in the air, mingled with the acrid scent of ozone from the lightning, the delightful aroma of earlier refreshments, and the bitter tang of cold sweat and fear. Is it over?
Standing over the fallen Dragoon, Link pointed the tip of his poleaxe at the man's throat. "Do you yield?" His voice, firm and commanding, pierced the now-silent arena.
The Dragoon lifted his visor, casting a defiant glance at the crowd. Their judgment ringing in his ears. The match was over.
"Well? Do you yield or must I go further?" Link said sternly, still catching his breath.
"I, I yield," he rasped, barely a whisper, glaring up at Link with undisguised animosity.
"I can't hear you." Link said.
"I told you, I yield!" the Dragoon bellowed, the words torn from him in a rush of defeat. Link didn't move for a long beat, his chest heaving as he stared down at his fallen enemy, the poleaxe still ready.
Remembering his honor, Link slowly lowered his weapon and offered a hand to the Dragoon, to help him to his feet. The gesture was met with a mixed reaction from the crowd, but Zelda felt a surge of pride wash over her, sweet and warm like honey for his knightly conduct.
However, the fallen Dragoon harbored no such sentiments. Filled with contempt, he spat on Link's outstretched hand and remained kneeling in the mud. Link recoiled, his expression hidden beneath his helm, his frown deepening as he flicked the phlegm from his gauntlet.
It was then he heard the roars of the crowd applause again and the herald take charge once more. The herald cleared his throat, his face pale as sour milk. "What an upset, my Lords and ladies!" he croaked, mopping his brow with a handkerchief.
Jun couldn't resist the urge anymore and bolted over the fence to greet Link. As they met, the lad proudly gripped his arm and raised it high for all to bask in his victory. "Not so rough, Jun," Link said softly with a wince of pain. "I took quite a beating back there."
"Ah, you're fine! You did it! You actually won!"
Link blinked. "What, you didn't think I could?"
"Well, it's not that Sir, it's just that man is no good and he fights dirty. Who knew what kind of tricks he would pull. But I knew you had it in you. I bet she did too." Jun whispered back, knowing full well that their conversation was in earshot of the Dragoon, who still knelt and watched.
Back at the royal box, Arasmus' expression darkened; his secret schemes thwarted by the turn of events. Beside him, Zelda stood firm ignoring him among her friends, her eyes bright with unshed tears, not of despair, but of fierce, proud relief. Eagerly they listened as the Herald made his announcement.
Glancing up at the royal box, the Herald reluctantly sought Arasmus's silent approval to continue. Their eyes met, and with a shrug, the Herald signaled his intent to proceed, his expression conveying a silent message of 'what can I do, the kid won.' Needless to say, the noble lord was far from amused. Clearing his throat nervously, the Herald made his decree.
"It seems the Goddess has spoken! She has found her champion who will compete in tonight's trials alongside the initiates!" The crowd buzzed with excitement at his proclamation, and in that moment, his assistant leaned in conspiratorially once more, whispering into his ear.
"Yes, I am aware of that," the Herald said, shooing him away with a dismissive wave as he addressed the crowd. But he persisted, prodding him until the Herald relented. "I am reminded by my good man, Percy here, that we are to have three champions join the initiates," he explained. "However, it would appear that this warrior accomplished victories for two out of the three contests on his own. So, it is decided that he and one other will join the cadets on their journey for glory! None other than the man he faced here!" he declared boldly, pointing towards the defeated Dragoon.
Percy then shook his head and leaned to whisper again, only to be met with another dismissive flick as if he was a buzzing fly pestering his ear.
"Yes, yes, I know, I remember," the Herald whispered back, perturbed by his noble associate. "The teams during the melee and the joust, I remember. But, I wasn't the one who changed the rules at the last moment. So, you can't blame me if things didn't go as planned. I have to make this up as I go now," he added, growing irritated by Percy's persistence. It was then he nearly forgot he was in the middle of a grand speech. "Now, if you're finished, let me speak to the people before we both lose our heads. The winning team shall receive their bounty, that much Her Highness has promised. And that should suffice them."
He coughed into his fist yet again, the crowd getting anxious and downright a little rambunctious for the strange delay of decorum and ceremony. "As I was saying, it has been decided that this champion, who interestingly bears the mark of her Royal Highness will continue to join the cadets this evening. The challenger whom he defeated will also be granted the opportunity to enlist alongside them on their perilous trial. As for the rest of the contestants who won as a team in the final bout, bounties for the top three will be set aside by the treasury to be paid to them. All failed challengers will have to relinquish their arms and armor used during the tourney to be consecrated and sold at market value for the poorest among us, as earlier decreed by her royal majesty! Those wishing to keep their gear, must pay the bounty for their loss!"
But even before the dust could settle or the crowd could calm their clamoring, Link, standing beside Jun, heard the grumbling discontent from the beaten Dragoon just feet behind him. Like a sixth sense, the power he felt seldom during the fight earlier awakened once more, and in a blink time slowed.
"I warned you, your cheating little friend won't escape me. He'll answer for sabotaging my victory and disgracing me before my liege," the Dragoon growled in a low whisper. In an instant, the brute sprang to his feet, darting not towards Link, but his unsuspecting squire, who remained blissfully unaware of the impending danger.
Link leapt into action, realizing that the man had unsheathed a secret dagger and was lunging right at Jun from behind. "Jun, look out!" he yelled, forcefully shoving the boy to the ground several paces away.
"Ow, what was that for?" Jun protested, oblivious to the peril he was in and the unfolding chaos.
But even with his swiftness, Link couldn't evade the strike intended for his squire, feeling the sting of steel piercing his flesh between his pauldron and breastplate. Everything unfolded so rapidly that the audience struggled to comprehend the sudden turn of events. The Herald stood speechless, unable to narrate the chaos to the bewildered crowd. Zelda and the others were equally stunned, their elation turning to despair in the blink of an eye. Aramsus, though taken aback by the boldness of the attack, refrained from displaying any emotion.
"Gotcha now, hero boy," sneered the Dragoon as he twisted his blade agonizingly between Link's shoulder and chest. "Betcha wish you thought twice to gr…grgg..grgle." But before the man could rip the knife out and deliver the killing blow, or before Link could counter with a deflective guard with what little strength he had left, a silent whisper whistled across the arena, and a single arrow impaled the unguarded neck of the Dragoon. The man fell back, releasing his grip on his dagger, and collapsed onto the sand to choke in his own blood.
Link, on the other hand, pulled away, but the dagger remained lodged in him, a grim reminder of his perilous situation. Everything around him began to blur, the noise swelling around him. His head swam, and suddenly he found himself kneeling on the ground, his breathing labored. Warm liquid soaked his tunic where his arm met his shoulder, drips falling from his fingers. He could feel his heart pound in his hands.
The stadium erupted into chaos. Where did the arrow come from? Zelda and her closest friends huddled together, attempting to take control of the situation, while Aramsus ordered his men to close ranks around them. Royal Guardsmen also sprang into action, swarming around the King, their hands on their hilts and ready for any threat. Everyone, from the nobles in the stands to the commons along the fences, people searched to see where the mystery arrow flew from but to no avail.
Between every blink, the last thing Link saw as he fell to the sand was his squire running to kneel at his side to render him aid. "Hang on, Sir, you're going to be okay!" the boy pleaded, turning to face the sidelines and the Herald. "He needs help! He's been stabbed! Please, hang on. Help!"
Authors Note: A very short one, but don't fret, the next one will be out in less than a week. It's already almost finished. Thanks for reading and please leave a comment if you enjoyed this one.