by N Felts
two effortlessly. Committed to the attack, Link’s back becomes vulnerable as he passes by, his shield worthlessly resting far below. The unexpected force generated by his defensive attack spins Rift three hundred sixty degrees allowing him to land a solid double-palmed strike between the Hylian’s shoulder blades as he passes.
A brief cry of pain is cut off by an explosion of debris, the man in green sent sprawling into the rows of wooden pews below. Landing only slightly more gracefully, Rift peers through the cloud of dust from beside the altar, unsure if his attack was enough to finish the battle. The dusty arena suddenly becomes very serene, the sun’s reflections off the water outside now coupling with the profound silence invading the room. Not feeling particularly accomplished just yet, Rift slowly moves closer to the site of his enemy’s crash landing.
“You’ll have to finish him,” Mai warns, fairly certain the boy doesn’t have what it takes for such a task. “We’ll never be rid of him as long as he draws breath.”
“There’s no other way?” Rift asks, utterly uncomfortable with the idea, but knowing he cannot write it off all the same.
“There isn’t,” she confirms, desperate to course the boy to work up the nerve. “Especially now that Farore has witnessed what we’re capable of.” The wobbling properties of the projected water upon the bluish walls have become more of a twinkling particle effect, the beams of light obfuscated by the cloud of dust diffusing throughout the room. Squinting through the fading haze, Rift cannot believe his eyes when nothing but a small blotch of blood rests amongst the rubble. “Down!”
Dropping down without hesitation, the boy hears the faint whistle of an arrow scream overhead, stabbing into the wooden podium upon the altar. Quickly rolling beside the large doorway, he presses his back against the cool stone, briefly peeking into the sunlight. Another arrow instantly ricochets past his head, but not before he spots Link upon his horse with enough arrows to lay siege to the building for an hour. “Damn him,” Rift grumbles, not daring to sneak another peek. The thin crevice in which the Hylian’s shield briefly rested stands out among the otherwise smooth stones along the entrance.
“You see? What he lacks in strength he more than makes up for in persistence,” she observes, growing to dislike her sister’s chosen hero more and more. “We can’t fight him out in the open. He has too much of an advantage with his horse.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he admits, shying back when another arrow zips through the doorway.
“Let’s head back to the cave. I think I’ve got the hang of my portals now,” she boasts with confidence. “Besides, those jerks left me feeling pretty crabby.”
“Really?” Rift chuckles with his eyes mashed shut. Finding the attempt at the joke much funnier than the joke itself, the boy shakes his head while carefully moving back into the temple.
“What? Puns are funny,” she insists, happy to see her companion laughing for the first time.
“Yeah, usually,” he agrees, glancing at the Nayru statue as he passes by. He can’t help but wonder how terrible Mai’s sisters must have been to treat her as they did. Then again, people have been treating him the same all his life. Greedy, arrogant people, stepping on him for no better reason than the simple fact they are able. To think he is on a mission to save such an undeserving populous. The misplaced sense of duty is far more than he can currently comprehend, but even so, it serves as one of the few factors driving him irrevocably forward.
“She couldn’t bee-lieve it,” Mai concludes with anticipation, but Rift’s blank expression isn’t the reaction she’d hoped for. “Nothing? Well they’re not all animal puns—are you spacing out on me again?” She sighs, mildly annoyed.
“What? No, I just,” he starts, immediately feeling guilty.
“Oh, just forget it,” she teases, always trying to keep him engaged in conversation. She’s spent an eternity overthinking things. She wouldn’t wish the same on the boy for even the briefest of periods.
“Come on, don’t be like that,” Rift goads, steadily growing more and more relaxed with his occasionally charming partner. “Tell it again.”
“No, you’ll just laugh at me again,” she stubbornly points out as they move out of earshot of the defeated hero. An agitated sigh falls from Link’s lips as he adjusts himself on his saddle. The sun has already grown impressively demoralizing, the long day to come undoubtedly destined to be a hot one. He got what he came for, but this defeat will not rest easy on his mind. With a quick spur of his heels, Epona carries him from the beach in a flash.
Bid for Power:
My Oracle of Reasons
The dark vision has begun to visit him at night. Only in his deepest slumber. The horizon burns as if the sun were consuming the planet. An orb of immeasurable power stands alone at the center of the hellscape, gravitating every molecule of energy into itself. A silhouette hovers within the orb. An indistinguishable creature reaching out to him. The power surging through his body is too much to bear as he is drawn closer to the sphere against his will. A potency that cannot be controlled or directed. The thin line, long since crossed over when power ceases to be strength, and mutates into a hunger. A need for destruction. A cancer no amount of mettle could ever overcome. The silhouette’s eyes open and focus upon his naked flesh. A thousand piercing bolts of judgment riddle his body, forcing him to submit to an entity greater than himself. The unfathomable power of God flirts far too coarsely for him to remain within the dream. Bolting upright in bed, Ganondorf requires several deep breaths to pull his mind back into reality. Glancing down he sees that Aveil was not stirred from her sleep by the sudden jolt as she curls deeper into the silk blanket. The king of thieves will not find any more sleep this night, the vivid dream still etched onto his eyelids. The mild desert breeze is uncomfortable on his bare skin, the dry air refusing to cool at night as it always has in the past. The quarter moon shines brightly upon the fortress, illuminating the entire structure and the man standing atop it. Just above the waistband of his dark trousers, a horrendous scar stretches from his navel to his chest, branching out in all directions like an ancient tree in midwinter. Scratching at the dark tissue absently, he feels as if he can almost hear the witches who revived him from such a horrid wound.
“I think we lost her. Hee hee!” A spirited voice cackles.
“Ho ho ho! I sure hope not. The game has just begun!” Another adds, the owners of the voices moving closer. Marching to a better vantage point, Ganondorf stops at the stone ledge overlooking the entire fortress. Rapidly approaching, two dark figures seem to glide up the multitude of stone steps, disappearing and reappearing between buildings. Recognizing them immediately, Ganondorf sighs heavily, regretting not simply staying in bed. In seconds, they’ve ascended to the platform outside the throne room. Two nearly identical witches hover above the ground upon their broomsticks, their bulbous eyes and large noses portraying them very stereotypically. The most infamous of all the warlock’s subjects, their potent magical prowess is a useful tool for the king of the Gerudo.
“Why do you burden me with your presence at such an hour?” Ganondorf gruffly asks, not attempting to hide his disapproval.
“What a greeting. Didn’t I tell you to teach him some manners, Koume?”
“Oh sure! Make me the bad guy. It’s just as much your fault as it is mine, Kotake!”
“Nonsense! You smother the boy! Look at how irritated he is because of you and your stupid plan.”
“It was your plan, and I told you it wouldn’t work! She couldn’t keep up with us.”
“It’s just like you to underestimate someone. You’re the reason we got spotted in the first place!”
“Silence!” Ganondorf shouts, fed up with their endless banter. Cocking his head to listen, he detects a familiar presence stealthily approaching. Ducking out of the moonlight himself, he decides to use the witches as bait until he can discover the identity of their pursuer.
�
��It’s her! She found us after all!” Kotake gasps, dashing into a hiding place as well.
“No! Take the wrinkled one! I’m too young and beautiful!” Koume whines, shoving Kotake back out into the open.
“We’re twins! Stop lying about your age already!” Kotake shouts, initiating a childish scuffle with her sister.
“End of the line you old hags,” a mature female’s voice declares. Suddenly appearing above the throne room entrance, a Gerudo woman garbed in white scowls down upon the witches, now frozen in fear. Her traditional dress matches that of the other thieves, complete with a white cloth concealing her face. Her long, red ponytail almost brushes against the ground in her battle stance, though it is the only feature available to attempt to accurately place her age. Clutched beneath her forearm, a glaive rests across her back, the large blade held outward allowing it to glisten in the moonlight. With an agile flip, the woman lands before the terrified sorceress’s, prepared to banish them from this world for good.
“It’s time to finally be rid of you,” she mutters, squaring up her targets.
“My thoughts exactly,” Ganondorf grins, stepping into the light from behind the woman.
“No,” she gasps, spinning on her heels and stumbling back a step.
“What? No clever
