The Legend of Zelda: Fall of Ikana

by N Felts

fellow students waiting in the cold behind the door, and their intentions quickly become apparent.

  “Come in, we were just about to run into town,” Cale greets, stepping aside.

  “I do believe this is the highest population this old place has ever sustained,” the sickly host laughs, humbled by the gesture.

  “I’m glad you guys came by,” Geist adds, nodding with approval.

  “I’m sure we won’t be the only ones,” Azrael shrugs, moving over to greet his teacher.

  “We’ll be back soon,” Geist announces, and with a grateful nod from his greatfather, he and Cale make for the market district.

  “We’ll keep an eye on him,” another student assures, watching the duo exit. The wind seems to lash out in brief intervals, almost as if it intends to knock over anyone attempting to traverse its wrath. Making their way up the long path between the residential districts, the marketplace comes into view, though there are few patrons out in the cold. The grim scene strikes Geist as more depressing than usual, but he knows nothing will be the same now that attacks are occurring on Ikanian soil. Even the soldiers patrolling nearby hang their heads, their defeated attitude showing in every action.

  “Hey!” Cale suddenly mutters, smacking his friends shoulder and pointing out a hooded figure near an alley. Just as Geist spots him, a flash of green eyes vanishes into shadow as the cloaked individual dashes out of sight. His adrenaline spiking for just a moment, Geist ultimately stays put.

  “Did that just happen?” He mumbles, unsure what, if anything, he should do.

  “We are everywhere. You resistance is nearly as laughable as it is futile,” Garo suddenly interjects from his bottle.

  “No sense telling the patrol,” Cale sighs, shaking his head. “They won’t catch him, but they will take us in for questioning.”

  “I guess you’re right,” he agrees, attempting to set his mind back to the task at hand. Considering the direction everything seems to be headed, he cannot help but wonder if this is simply the way things are going to be from now on. Lurking spies, random attacks, and perpetual fear among the citizens is rapidly becoming the new norm. He cannot help but wonder how his tiny group of reavers could restore any manner of balance to the kingdom.

  “Come on, let’s just get the medicine for now,” Cale breathes, adjusting his coat as they continue into the market. Passing patrons simply stare at the ground as they pass, a mixture of desire to be out of the cold, and deflated optimism. Nearby a middle-aged man towing his son along confronts a pair of shopkeepers discussing the heroics of the newly named Skull Keeta. The bits Geist manages to overhear portray two very different versions of the battle. While some believe Keeta thwarted a surprise attack, others appear to have learned he charged into a Subrosian encampment without reinforcements, and suffered a shameful loss because of it. Either way, no one can debate the army’s morale has never been lower, their ranks suffering cataclysmic losses between the suicide attacks, and the affliction the tower wrought upon them.

  “What! Where?” A nearby patrolman exclaims upon hearing a muffled report.

  “Should we contact the—“ the soldier delivering the message starts.

  “No. We’ll handle this,” the leader of the patrol affirms. With that, the regiment charges toward the royal district, their incessant marching hardly missed by the shoppers and merchants.

  “Is it just me or did that sound like—“ Geist implies, shooting his friend a knowing glance.

  “Yeah. There must be some kind of apparition,” Cale confirms, taking a deep breath. “Let’s check it out.”

  “That’s more like it,” Geist praises, joining his comrade’s rapid pace to the bridge. “Confidence. The spirits respond to it,” he explains, briefly glancing at the bottle on his hip before adding, “not well, but they do respond to it.” Across the bridge the duo quickly stumble upon dozens of troops concaved around an abnormally tall figure. Moving closer reveals the creature at the center of the group to be an animated corpse, the likes of which neither of the reavers have ever encountered. Blood stained bandages conceal its form from head to toe, and its unnatural movements are disturbing at best. The soldiers charge in smaller and smaller groups, ramming a sword or spear through the creature, only to watch it retaliate violently before pulling the blade out of its form. The figurative sea of brutalized bodies in its wake tells the obvious plight of the few remaining soldiers, and its direct course to the castle gates. A small fireball explodes after striking the ghoul’s chest, knocking it backward for the moment.

  “We’re here to help,” Cale announces to the remaining soldiers.

  “I don’t think so,” a soldier quickly retorts. “Keeta warned us about you people. You’re going to get someone killed throwing those spells around.”

  “We’ll he’s dead now,” Geist chimes in, his conjured spheres multiplying as they begin to orbit his form. “And it’s no fault of ours.”

  “How dare you—“ the soldier starts, instantly livid at the level of disrespect from a civilian. Seconds later, a wave of shouts and exhaled grunts sound as a massive offensive commences against the castle. Garo Robe spring from every shadow, only the sharp, disquieting sounds of metal piercing flesh, and the unsettlingly brief death throes fill the air moments before alarms begin to sound. Though the initial attack leaves the castle guard backpedaling, the counterattack is nearly as impressive as the guards have been tirelessly training to oppose the ninja tactics. In the blink of an eye, all-out war has erupted on the castle perimeter, and the casualties on both sides are increasing unnervingly quickly.

  “Join the castle guards!” Geist shouts, snapping the soldier back to his senses. “We’ll handle this guy.”

  “I don’t take orders from you!” The soldier fires back, defiant to the bitter end. The rest of his regiment tensely waits for the resolution, no single one of them ready to take a side.

  “What choice do you have?” Cale inquires, appealing to the man’s reason. A brief struggle between pride and duty ensues, but a moment later, he is charging the castle gates to join the defense with the remaining soldiers in tow. A terrible moan drowns out the cries of men and the clang of swords momentarily as the bandaged creature has resumed its trek forward. Dashing a few steps back, Cale lowers his head to concentrate, a tiny orb of fire taking shape between his palms. Geist charges forward, assaulting the blundering zombie with a flurry of mimed pitches, the spiked spheres impacting heavily with every swipe, and seeming to singe the ghoul with every blow. A haymaker strike from the creature misses the mark by a wide margin as Geist rolls to the side just in time for Cale to finish forming his attack. A much larger explosion throws the foe off of its feet as the fireball finds its target. The wealth of bandages covering the monster’s form catch fire, gradually revealing flesh already charred as the monster lumbers away as quickly as it can manage.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Geist taunts, surprised to watch his partner quickly dash past him in pursuit.

  “Keep up,” Cale smirks, rapidly closing the distance to the burning figure. Breaking into a sprint himself, Geist cringes at the horrible noise the zombie emits, flailing wearily before tumbling into the nearby well. Taking a moment to recover from the terrible scream that stopped them in their tracks, the duo regroup atop the deep, empty shaft, staring down into pitch-black darkness. The war rages on across the castle perimeter, neither side seeming to have a clear advantage as both ninja and soldiers alike continue to strike each other down. Spears rip through robes leaving trails of red in their wake while arrows and daggers find the spaces between Ikanian armor with eerie efficiency. The bloody scene becomes unsettlingly quiet as even the fleeing dignitaries are cut down, the Garo numbers indiscernible as they constantly vanish from view until the moment they strike. Their imminent victory goes unseen by the pair of reavers as they prepare to chase down their prey.

  “Clever,” Geist admits, the flaming creature certainly find
ing solace in the water below.

  “I didn’t hear a splash,” Cale warns, closing his eyes momentarily to concentrate.

  “Been practicing?” Geist grins, admiring his friend’s rapid command of his potential. A spectral blade emerges from his comrade’s knuckles, his open hand slowly luring the weapon out of his closed fist as they separate.

  “Naturally,” Cale shrugs, hopping over the cylindrical formation of brick an instant later.

  “Wait!” Geist exclaims, following suit upon realizing his warning is far too late. Illuminating the descent, Cale’s arm-blade leaves a translucent stream of light in its wake as his partner falls through the illusion with ample dread. Rolling to break his fall, Cale scours the darkness as Geist repeats the maneuver shortly thereafter. Ankle-deep water does virtually nothing to impede their progress as they begin to move forward. His conjured blade lighting the way as best it can, neither of the reavers are able to see the path ahead clearly. A random droplet of water lands on Geist’s neck, the ice-cold intruder sending chills down his spine as he decides with certainty they shouldn’t have come down here. An unsettling ambiance keeps each of the hunters on edge, warped screams and deep moans too distant and diffused to determine a potential source. The catacomb