Chapter 43: The Fruits of War
It took two days, and all Ganondorf's patience, but the Gorons' excavations were near done. Gan and his guard stood before the entrance of the Crown and waited for the signal that the last of the obstruction was cleared. They'd be able to see for themselves, were it not for the one group closer to the Crown than they. Brodni and the greatest of the Gorons stood between them, they would be first to enter. Their honor demanded no less. "Gorons must be the ones to save our chief and protect our relics," Dembugi had said. Though the old Goron, who needed a cane to walk, stayed back in the camps.
The honor of the Gorons may demand that they enter the Crown first. But the honor of Dembugi demanded Brodni do that for him.
Which suited Gan fine. If he could, he'd be further back. Dust from broken stones and the smell of the black powder that the Gorons use to remove the debris filled the air. Most of his warriors suffered coughing fits as they waited. It would only get worse when they entered the tunnels, but Gan did not care. Let Brodni throw himself in the first assault, it would be his blade that killed the beast.
He frowned. No, I can't let my wrath control me. I need the Ruby, what happens to King Dodongo is immaterial. As sweet as slaughtering the lizard would be, it would turn bitter if any more of his companions were wounded. So long as he died, it did not matter the hand that slew him. The monster proved himself clever and had two days to scheme. Let Brodni risk his life, Gan would reap the rewards regardless.
Of course, if the opportunity did present itself? Well, one can hope.
A Goron that stood atop the collapsed entrance waved to those below him. "It is ready! Watch yourself!"
At his side, Nabooru stretched her arms and drew her swords. She gave Gan a wild grin. "Oh, I have been waiting for this."
Ganondorf held out his hand, and the black blade appeared. "Gerudo! Make ready!"
His warriors gave a loud trilling cry for battle. Several Gorons pulled at the stones at the collapsed entrance. The rocks shifted, the top of the pile shook. The Gorons rolled away as the sheet of stone crashed behind them. A gray cloud of dust rolled forward, stinging at Ganondorf's eyes, and filling his nostrils. The trill became a chorus of coughs.
"For Darunia! For the Crown!" Brodni shouted through the dust still clogged Gan's throat and stung his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his face with his hands, but it did little good. The Gorons did not seem to mind, by the thumping of their heavy feet.
By the time the wave of dirt and pebbles descended, and Gan spat and wiped his eyes clean, the Gorons were well ahead of them. Disappearing into the still swirling dust within the tunnels.
"Forward!" Gan yelled. The rubble proved difficult to climb, pebbles shifted underfoot, and shattered stones scraped against each other. Every step felt as though the path would collapse and bury him and his guard. He steadied himself with his hand as he climbed, managing to stay upright, and moving. Others were not as fortunate. Behind him, a Gerudo howled a curse as she clattered to the ground, sending rubble rolling over the feet of those behind her.
If the enemy had been there to defend the entrance, it would have been a deadly slog. King Dodongo's flames could have driven them back. Though the heat radiating from the Crown felt little better than the monster's fire. When he stepped inside Gan already felt his sweat form on his brow and under his arms.
Within the stone walls no enemies lay in wait, instead only corpses, burned and torn apart. Every step he saw further horrors as the heat grew greater. As hot as midday in the desert, when all hid beneath canopies or under roofs.
His entire life he heard the Crown was impregnable. Atop the tallest mountain in the world, surrounded by blackened stone too strong for even a Dodongo to dig through. Once home to the greatest dragon ever seen, its power still lingering within its walls.
Now it lay open, and he marched an army through it. Its splendor and majesty destroyed by the Dodongo. But more than that, the monster would never have been able to enter without the Gorons' own weapon. Might without forethought, ever the sin of the powerful. And look what it brought the Gorons? A ruined temple of collapsed walls and melted treasures. It housed not dragons or Gorons, but the dead.
Such ends all great things. That is why he fought, that is why he plotted. When he forged the Gerudo Kingdom it would be a millennia before such a tragedy could befall his people.
It took another thousand steps to find any sign of life. Dead Gorons had been dragged into rows, shrouds placed over their faces. Stone mounds at their feet with names carved into them. Some must still live within this tomb. But they did not find them until they traveled deeper still. Gorons with haunted faces let them pass. Standing aside, or bowing their heads as the Gerudo passed. Some held each other tight, while others protected what little treasures survived the destruction. Most just looked on, too tired, to wounded, too horrified to do anything more.
Gan had seen those looks before. Sometimes he rode out to avenge them, to drive back the Hylians that ravaged their lands and peoples. Other times, he left those faces in his wake. You learned to keep riding, regardless. Learn to let the horrors roll off your mind like sweat from a brow.
He and his warriors did not stop until they passed through a wall knocked over by the great bulk of King Dodongo. Over the broken tiles and steam spewing fissures in the stonework, they entered the deepest vault of the Crown.
They entirety of the Council of Matrons could fit beneath the ceiling, with room to spare. Statues as tall as towers leaned against the polished stone walls. Though half now lay toppled over, crushing gold and gems where they landed. One fallen statue destroyed more wealth than most tribes held in the desert.
But at the center of it all, lay a massive dead Dodongo. Its body ravaged with dents and marks, blackened with flame, and the one who must have slew it sat upon its snout.
Darunia had his hands on his knees. Brodni and the other Goron warriors all knelt before him. The chief had a weary look about him and it was no small wonder why. Others lay dead within the room, set in rows, and shrouded.
"Think nothing of it," Darunia forced a smile and a laugh. "You have done well Brodni. No chief could ask for more from their guard. Besides, at the end I proved a match for the beast." He slammed his fist onto the dead lizard's snout, making its head and neck shake.
That dark part of Gan howled in rage. No matter how he rationalized that at least the traitor died, it did not matter. King Dodongo betrayed him, and now was forever out of his reach.
THE LIZARD IS NOT THE ONLY TRAITOR HERE. DARUNIA. DARUNIA DESERVES DEATH AS WELL.
Ganondorf growled, low enough that only Nabooru heard. She gave him a concerned look, but he waved her off and sent his sword away. I need to control myself. Focus on what is important.
He approached the Goron leader and forced his own smile. "Mighty Chief."
"Cunning king," Darunia pushed himself off from the monster to stand before Ganondorf. The two rulers stared at each other. Each smiled, yet Gan knew his hid a dagger, while he felt Darunia's did the same. What did the Goron know? Had he found some way to communicate with the Dodongo before the end? Or perhaps he had some other motivation for the battlefield disaster he caused? Something that Gan had not yet uncovered.
KILL HIM! YOU CAN SLAUGHTER THE WHOLE MOUNTAIN IF YOU TRY.
Darunia held out his hand in an offer of friendship. "I saw you, goro. Leading our armies together to rescue the Crown. The tales spoken of you are true, a commander unlike any seen before in this world."
Ganondorf took hold of the Goron's arm. "And it was impossible to miss you, battling with the most dangerous beast left from the ages of myth and legend. Letting both our armies retreat in safe order. The strength of a warrior that will inspire generations." He nodded to the corpse. "I see that battle you finished without my aid."
"I did," the smile fell from the chief's face. "But not fast enough. The Dodongo lashed out in rage, he spewed flames down halls filled with innocents. He killed children fleeing from him with the same relish he slaughtered soldiers. Since I slew him, I have searched for survivors. There are... few."
For a breath, Gan's heart went out to Darunia. He'd seen the ravages done to his people before, he'd watched as the charge of knights swept aside his friends, as fires burned down his villages. Knowing that the dead all sought you for protection, and you failed them.
And Darunia had. He'd failed the Crown far more than Gan had ever failed his Gerudo. What madness made him change his position before the battle? It only made sense if Darunia desired to provoke his wrath. And he'd given the Goron no reason to want that. Unless, he told the truth, that his personal honor demanded his armies defend the Crown first.
What kind of fool would put an entire battle in jeopardy for such a reason? They would have to be as stupid as...
As a Goron, apparently.
"We all mourn your losses. But you must tell me of your duel," Ganondorf said. "It looks to have been a battle worthy of song."
"It was," Darunia said. "But I fear that song will be a lamentation. Many things were lost. From the innocents who dwelt here, to our greatest treasures. Statues of our honored forefathers lay shattered, our holiest site desecrated. What value is the death of one beast when compared to such destruction?"
"We will mourn the dead together. But first there is some small business that must be dealt with." He nodded to Bodni.
"I am sorry, mighty chief," the guard said. "But to keep the Gerudo in the fight, we offered King Dragmire a boon."
Darunia's brow furrowed. "What boon?"
"There is a stone among your treasures here in the Crown. A simple thing, a Ruby encased in gold it should be-"
"The Heart of the Mountain?" Darunia said. "I know of the stone you speak. I am sorry, that is impossible now."
The dark voice thundered in Ganondorf's skull again. Begging for him to call forth his sword and see if his enchanted blade could pierce Goron flesh as easy as it tore steel. "Your advisors agreed to this gift. He spoke with your voice in your absence. You cannot go back on their word. Not if you truly value your honor, not after all my people sacrificed for you."
"Do not mistake my refusal for ingratitude, goro. I would gladly give you any treasure within my land you desire. But this is strange." The chief waved toward a toppled statue. It might once have been a Goron, with its arm outstretched. But the arm lay smashed into the ground and shattered apart. Pieces strewn about, what may once have been its chest and head split into scarred and burned boulders. And where the arm struck the ground cracked, some fissures still open. "The monster also seemed drawn to the Heart. But in its rampage, it destroyed the statue that held it. When my ancestor toppled it split the ground, the Ruby is lost beneath the earth my friend."
"What?"
"Fret not, goro. I will honor any agreement my advisors gave you. I shall double their offer. Name any two treasures and they shall be yours." The chief smiled. "Anything you want. Not much has survived unblemished from the lizard's assault, but whatever you find is yours to take. With my deepest thanks."
It was lost.
The Ruby was gone.
His heart started pounding, more than it had in any battle he had fought in. The black part of him screamed in rage, and a painful thrumming filled his mind.
"Is something wrong, King Dragmire?"
"No," he said. Too sharp, his fury was slipping out. It needed to be controlled. "I am only sorry that I could not help in this fight. You must tell me everything." There was a chance. A slim chance, but all Ganondorf's hopes rested upon it.
Darunia shook his head. "I wish I had more to say. This battle, methinks, will be how my reign is remembered. I would love to say how I faced fang and flame in a clash that shook the mountain. But in truth, the monster slaughtered his way here. He seemed more interested in reaching the Heart of the Mountain than fighting me. That proved his mistake. When the statue fell and the Ruby slipped beneath the earth it went mad. I managed to force my last bomb into its mouth, and that is the result." He pointed toward the bulbous disfigured neck of the monster.
"You can tell a story better than that," Ganondorf forced a friendly chuckle. "You spoke at length of your ancestor's heroism. You gave more detail to a battle that happened centuries ago than one you fought in yourself. Come my friend, tell me, did you grapple over the stone? Did you tear it out of the monster's jaws?" Tell me if Dodongo touched it. He must have.
The Goron shook his head. "I am sorry, King Dragmire, I fought until my body ached, but I cannot think through the details. It is all a blur of fire and claws and death."
IT LIES! IT LIES! KILL HIM! KILL THEM ALL!
His fingers twitched. He could call the sword again and slaughter every Goron in the room. Darunia's madness brought him to this point. His disastrous decisions in the battle saw the monster enter the Crown. He deserved a brutal end. How many Gorons died for him? How many Gerudo? Mulli lay scalded, she hadn't moved in the two days and waved in and out of consciousness. And now he lost the Ruby? He must be punished. It was his fault. All his fault!
Perhaps these deaths are on his hands, but his guilt pales compared to mine.
"This will not do. A great victory deserves a great story." Ganondorf moved to the side of the dead beast and raised his hand high. The sword appeared, pointed toward the sky.
A THOUSAND DEATHS AND DESECRATIONS ARE NOT ENOUGH!
Witch-flame erupted around the blade as he swung it down with all his strength. It caught the monster in the base of the skull. The scales were tough, clinging together even as force and magic tried to separate them. But Ganondorf won. As he knew he always would. The lizard's separated from its body.
Blood spilled from the stump. The dark part of him laughed, sated for now.
Some of the Gorons stepped back, shock on their faces. Darunia seemed more puzzled. "Was that necessary?"
"Yes." Ganondorf sent his sword away and grabbed the head with both his hands and hoisted it into the air. By the sands it was heavy. He could lift it, but barely. Never mind trying to walk with the thing. "Most of our armies still wait on the mountainside. They will need to see that you were victorious." He worked hard to keep the strain from his voice. "Take this, and carry it outside. Raise it above your head and announce your victory. Your people will love you for it."
"Hmm," the Goron grabbed the gargantuan head and plucked it from Ganondorf's hands. Gan couldn't help himself but release a breath as the weight came off him. Darunia did not mind the weight at all. By the Three these Gorons were strong.
"Thank you, King Dragmire. You are an honorable and loyal friend. Whatever you want from the Vault is yours. I can only apologize that your true prize is gone."
The Goron left, his retinue behind him. As the chief traveled back up and out of the Crown the soldiers he passed cheered.
Ganondorf did not follow him. For a moment he stood in the center of the Vault of Stone and Flame. Only his guard and the dead stayed with him. A dozen cracks snaked across the floor. Some still open, the air over them shimmering from the heat. Others looked as if the land split apart and smashed back together, creating ridges of uneven stones. Which one hid the gift of the Goddesses? There was no way of knowing.
He tried to read the land, figure out where the chief and Dodongo fought and where the Ruby would roll once the statue fell. But blackened marks could have come from the Goron's bombs or the breath of the beast. Were the fractured chunks taken from the ground caused by chief or monster? No way of knowing.
For all the destruction, all the death, he found no hint of the Ruby.
Someone moved to his side. "Give us some space." Nabooru said. The Honor Guard backed away, leaving him alone with his dearest friend.
He waited for her to say something, but Nabooru remained silent. But her eyes never left his face. "It can't be gone," he broke the silence with a strangled whisper. "It can't be."
"What if it is?"
Above ground a chorus of cheers and shouts erupted. The hollering carried on for some time as the two armies celebrated their victory. Goron and Gerudo alike, even his own people celebrated his defeat, his disgrace. If only they knew what they lost, today's victory brought his people closer to their doom than any loss during the Civil War. They had no hope for a future.
"Gan?"
"I don't know." All around him lay his handiwork, his legacy. A place once beautiful torn to pieces. It can't be all for nothing.
"Gan," Nabs said, wrapping her arm around his side, "do you remember the graveyard?"
"No," Ganondorf pulled away from her. "No. Not yet. It's not over yet. Darunia. He's lying. I know he's lying. It must be somewhere. The Goddesses forged those stones themselves, they can't just disappear. They can't simply be destroyed. The gods would not allow it."
"Even you can't say what the Goddesses will or will not allow."
"I will not just abandon the dream."
"You promised me, Gan."
SHE NEVER BELIEVED. SHE MOCKED, CALLED YOU MAD. SHE HOLDS YOU BACK.
His closest friend, who stayed by his side through the terrors of their childhood and battles both. And all she ever did was try to stop him, and schemed against him, somehow. She tricked him to agree to give up his dream, no loyal subject would ever do that. He raised his hand.
Out the corner of his eye, he noticed his guard freeze in fear. He blinked and forced the voice away. It's Nabs, he would never hurt Nabs. All he did was for her and Bulira and...
His fingers curled until only one jutted at her. "I- I-" Nabooru didn't flinch, nor show a single sign of fear. He lifted his palm to his forehead, rubbing at his temple a moment before letting his arm fall back to his side.
"This is me. You promised me."
"It's not over yet." Ganondorf turned from Nabooru and passed through his guard as he made his way back up and out of the tunnel. All of them, even Bethe, had worry in their eyes and frowns on their lips. He had promised them the world. What would they think of him if he brought them through death and war and won them nothing? Nothing but more death.
"What about your prizes?" Makeela asked. "Pity to take nothing after all that's happened."
"Find the two things that look the most expensive, sell them, and give the money to the families of the fallen." Ganondorf shouted over his shoulder as he left the tomb.
Gan traversed his tent on hand and knee. Not his true tent, that had been destroyed in the battle. Servants found another for him to use. He hoped they paid the owner for it, but it may well have been scavenged from the dead. However it happened, the tent was too small for him. He could not stand upright, it was painful to enter, and if he laid down either his head or his feet pressed against the edge. Still, it provided him the peace of being alone, something invaluable in an army.
Outside, the raucous sound of celebration rang. At their best a soldier would take any chance to revel and drink, be they Gerudo, Hylian, or Goron. Surviving a battle or avoiding one meant much the same thing once the flagons were filled. Among the Gorons the celebration grew louder even than it had been when they first drove the lizards back. Their chief was safe, and the drums never pounded louder.
The canvas of his tent did little to muffle the festivities, but it would suffice. He hunched open his chest, fingers fumbling through the shifting shadows cast by the candlelight. No begging greeted him when it opened, which proved both a welcome absence and a reminder how far his plan had fallen. How did it all fall apart? After all my work, everything I've done.
There was still a chance, slim though it may be.
He pulled out the map and demon-bone. The tent had no room for a desk, and the ground was uneven. He emptied his wooden chest and turned it over to use the flat base. To keep it stable he fiddled with his bedroll to make a nest that kept the box from rolling. It'd work well enough.
"That which I have marked, I call to you. Reveal yourself to me."
His weeks preparing the spell must mean something. Marking one creature was simple, any novice could accomplish it with proper instruction. Setting the marker to pass from one to another was more difficult. So many ways it could go wrong, and needing to tune it to jump only where you wanted and not the thousand other things the mark may come in contact with. It was how he could track the Emerald after the spider took it before it died. He'd be able to look upon it now, were it not for the Tree's magic. What remained of it anyway. But he had never created a marking spell that traveled three layers deep.
Please, you cursed traitorous lizard. Do this one thing, only this one thing.
He released the top, and watched it spin across the map. It circled about the page, unfocused, as if the spell was searching throughout the world. That's normal, it often takes time to find a new target. It's fine. It can still work.
The top moved toward the mountain, and Ganondorf held his breath.
Please.
The top spun around the mountain. Once. Twice. Where is it?
It changed course, heading north and fell from the page.
"No," Ganondorf plucked the top from the ground and spun it again. "Reveal yourself to me! Reveal yourself!"
In his desperation, he put too much force behind the toss. The bone bounced where it touched the map, flipped too far to the side and skid along the paper.
KILL!
With trembling hand, he tried to pick up the top once more, only for it to fumble free of his fingers.
KILL! KILL!
Ganondorf roared and smashed his fist down on the chest. Witch-fire erupted around his hand.
"No!" He lifted his hand as fast as he could. But it was too late. The map caught the black and purple flame, burning a hole through the center. He crumpled the parchment and smothered the fire before it spread. But it was beyond repair. Don't lose control, it was just a map. I can find another. The words did little to calm him, and less to silence the voices from his childhood that filled his ears.
"Pathetic," said Kotake.
"Disappointing," agreed Koume.
"In four hundred years has there ever been a prince so weak?"
"Without the will to do what must be done."
"Perhaps we leave this one to the sands, dear sister?"
"Yes, yes. Try again. In another century, maybe we will get a king who is worthy."
After all he'd done, all he tried to do. What good were his victories if they came to nothing? He brought the Gerudo peace, but not one that would last. If war did not break out again in his life time it would be a miracle. But if it lasted longer it would only be a cruelty. Just long enough for his people to grow weak from peace and flowing water, dependent on the aqueduct and the Hylians.
All he'd ever done was bring doom. He had failed.
His mothers had been right, as they so often were.
The tent flap behind him rustled. Gan spun around to see Bethe stooped low, half entering the tent.
"My king," she said. "I heard something." She stopped, her eyes found the flames that still danced around his hand, then met his eyes. "It is happening again."
"I need," Ganondorf hissed, "to get out of here."
His commander nodded. She spun out of the tent and shouted. "Clear a way. All this noise is disturbing the king! Clear a way!"
Ganondorf fled from his tent. Bethe had done her duty as well as anyone could expect, but there were still those who strayed too close.
"My king!" said one warrior, raising a drinking horn to him as he passed. He knew her, a warrior from the Storm-Watcher Clan, a veteran who fought beside him during the Civil War. She drew close to him before she stopped. The horn slipping through her fingers and spilling out to the ground. "By the Goddesses, your eyes."
Ganondorf fled. Rushing out of the campsite, past those on watch who shouted after him. He did not know how long he ran. Two miles? Three? It was dark, and the uneven ground of the mountainside made it difficult for him to know. But he did not stop until the fires of the camp were far behind him. All the while as he ran, his mother's chastisements rang in his ears and a lifetime of fruitless victories played over and over in his mind.
And the voice. The most terrible thing of all. That dark part of his soul screaming at him one terrible word.
KILL! KILL! KILL!
His boots sank into the snow of the mountain, it turned to wet slush underfoot. Heat poured from him, he burned like a summer sun. Black flames rolled down his arms and sprung from his footsteps.
KILL! KILL! KILL!
He screamed as his worst instincts overwhelmed him. The noise that came from his throat was not his own, it sounded more like a monster, a demon of old. He fell to his knees and howled as the witch-fire consumed everything around him.