Chapter 18: The Shadows of Ganondorf Dragmire
“Keep watch and be vigilant, for the prey you seek is a boy clad in green!”
Orm crouched down as he looked over the body of the sage, wondering what exactly it was that made him so special. “Looks like any old Hylian to me,” he said as he scratched his head.
Dinta came from behind and knocked him on the head with his quarter-staff. “The King wants no one near the old man. Back away brother, or there will be two bodies laying here tonight.”
They did not look much alike, they were only half-brother’s after all. Orm was young, the youngest in fact, and had gained favor for more reasons than just his relation to Ganon. He was exceptionally skilled with his fists, and could level a man in seconds with only a few well-timed punches.
Dinta was older, and had long, braided hair like that of the red Gerudo Snap Snakes that hid in caves in the Wild Desserts. His talents at using a staff were unlike any other that Ganon had seen before. That was why he let him live so many years ago.
“It is rare that I say anything in the defense of a Hylian,” Gargrin, the oldest, began, “but Rauru was a master of lore who will know no rival. It’s a sad thing to see him in such a pathetic state. Truly he was made for a greater destiny than this drying corpse that clothes him now.”
He was the eldest brother to the late King Gandrogon, and Ganon’s uncle. He was alone among the twelve as being the only Lord to give his lands freely to Ganon and pledge his allegiance. Were it not for his actions, Ganon might not have been able to conquer the rest of the Gerudo provinces as quickly as he did.
His hair was gray, and his eyes were a weathered, golden color that reflected the sunlight. His skin was nearly black from his exposure to the sun, and he was wrinkled like the dried fruit of the Tulltulta trees after a heavy drought. When he was young he had a build that was similar to Ganon’s, but the years had thinned him gradually and removed their similarities. Despite his age he was faster than any of the twelve, and could wield his knives with a surgeon’s precision. It was often that his enemies underestimated him, and he was quick to exploit that fact.
“I don’t like it,” Prollo whispered from behind. He was a heavy and stout Gerudo with worried eyes and a long beard, and of the twelve he had the least skill with a weapon. His was the first region to fall to Ganon, the Firefell Province that bordered the Skull Plains. Prollo did not hesitate to drop his sword when Ganon entered his tent all those years ago, but he was quick enough to offer his great wealth in exchange for his life. His only skills were in thievery and cowardice.
“We’re at the mercy of those witches,” he said as he motioned back to where Ganon had been standing for the past hour, speaking with Koume and Kotake. “If they call upon dark magiks they cannot control, we will each of us be slaughtered by demons. I have seen it done in the Besselette Province. A massacre it was.”
“What you saw in my province was the wild magic of a Zoran mage who was cornered a group of thieves,” Yorgalgan said as he laughed from his spot, leaning against an old tree. “The spirits he called upon were beyond his knowledge. The result was a madness that took all ten thieves and transformed him into a flailing trout. I had him for dinner that night, seasoned with herbs. His was a most delicious error.”
“This isn’t time for your comedy Yorgalgan,” Prollo grunted, “I speak of very real danger.”
Yorgalgan appeared different from the rest; he was handsome and his features less severe. His hair was blonde with red highlights, and his eyes were dark blue. He had the dark, tanned skin of a Gerudo, but his ears were slightly sharpened at the ends, hinting at his half-Hylian origins. At the age of ten he proved himself to his people, passing through the Fire Trials and earning their respect. After that his lineage was never questioned or addressed. It was his blood ties to the Hylians, however, that forbade him from speaking in Ganon’s presence.
“Koume and Kotake are much older than I am,” Gargrin said as he spoke over Prollo’s defensive mumbles. “They are not inexperienced mages, but Gerudo witches who have devoted their lives to the magiks of our people. I do not fear their power.”
“Why have we been called here?” Orm said as he stretched and sat back against the long grass. “Ganon summoned the six of us to this place as if the world were burning up. Now we arrive and all we see is a deserted old home and a corpse of an old man who’s prettier than most of the women back home.”
Yorgalgan glanced back at Ganon, who had never looked more serious or focused. The King’s gaze was fixed on the witches, and he listened to every word they said as though each of them were the keys to all his dreams. Yorgalgan couldn’t hear any of what they said, despite his clever, half-Hylian ears. The distance was too great.
“Something tells me, friends, that the great treasure Ganon promised us before he set out for Hyrule is near at hand,” Yorgalgan said quietly. “We watched his lands, ensured there was no uprising or revolt from his people. Lord Tyran made sure of that. For twelve years we’ve waited for his return, keeping his throne warm for him. This might be the first step toward our repayment. I can sense our reward is close at hand.”
“What reward?” a woman’s voice said behind him. He craned his neck around, only to see Jenda, the only female member of the twelve, walking up the hill with a hooked fish in hand. Her hair was dyed dark blue with special Zoran tonics, and her eyes were a greenish-yellow. Across her nose were a set of two scars she had received when Ganon brought her down in combat. Along her belly was the third he marked her with so she’d remember his claim on her life.
“You speak of the goddesses’ treasure?” she said as she smiled at Yorgalgan. “Or some pot of rupees you hope to wrap in a bundle and cuddle up with near a warm fire?” At this Yorgalgan only chuckled and turned his head forward again.
“We all know the promised prize,” Dinta said, breaking his silence. “Ganon knows the way to the sacred land, to the golden treasures left by the old goddesses. Whatever they may be, we know they will be greater than any mortal gift.”
“We used to hear, long ago, of the treasures of the goddesses,” Gargrin said as he looked upward into the cloud filled sky. “The stories differed depending on who told them, but they enticed us nonetheless. If anyone could find these treasures, discover what lies beyond, then it would be Ganon.”
“What of the three triangles? The old Hylians that come through my province say this “Triforce” is all that exists beyond, a relic left by tired gods,” asked Prollo.
“Who cares about some shapes in the mist?” Orm said, picking his teeth with a knife. “The old ones talk of things they’ve conjured in a fit of aging delusion. I seek gold, women and land ripe for the taking. Give me these, keep your triangles.”
“We know that Ganon discovered the truth of the treasures on his journeys, and unlocked the path when he lived among the Hylians,” Gargrin said as he watched his nephew beyond. “You are all here because Ganon allowed you to live when he conquered your lands. Regardless of treasure, you are all bound to him by a blood debt. The fact that he wishes to share any reward with you is just an example of the kind of King he is.”
“A King of blades and might you mean,” Prollo barked. “We all know who Ganon is, and what he is. It is no secret that he wishes to achieve the powers of the gods, and I wouldn’t doubt he’d kill us all to do it.”
At this the group grew tense, and all eyes rested on Prollo’s neck.
“What would he gain from that?” Yorgalgan replied as he patted Prollo roughly on the back. “To speak such things is inviting yourself to an exploration of pain,” he whispered in Prollo’s ear. “We all know you’re dim but don’t try to prove it with such enthusiasm,” he said loudly, laughing to alleviate the tension Prollo had built.
“Whatever his wishes,” Orm said, his attention turning to his King once more, “we know he’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants.”
…
“Can it be done?” Ganon asked again, his frustrations mounting.
For the past hour, Koume and Kotake had described the difficulties they’d face in trying to decode the blood history of the old sage. Yet Ganon didn’t care about the tricks they needed to employ or the sacrifices it would take to get there, all he wanted was the path to Zelda.
They had tried to track her, following paths in the dirt that might reveal her location. The long grass made it difficult, however, and all tracks stopped outside of a certain distance. Impa, it seemed, had covered up the girl’s escape.
“A sage’s blood is a winding maze,” Koume related to him earlier, “they have spells placed on their bodies from birth, guarding their secrets from being revealed. To perform magic to reveal a sage’s blood secrets is to try to backtrack through a labyrinth. It will be a miracle if we can discover his own name, much less anything he regarded with discretion.”
From the moment they had arrived and discovered his intentions, the witches had tried to explain to Ganon how futile the ritual would be. Despite their efforts, the King looked at them with mad eyes, possessed only with desire. He heard nothing but excuses that denied his ultimate goal.
“There is a path. My sister knows there is a way to double our power, to increase the odds of revealing any information,” Kotake said. “It requires very dark magic, magic we are not adept in. To use it would be a danger to us, to everyone here.”
“I do not care about darkness or danger,” Ganon said boldly, “it is fear that keeps weak men from power, stops them from action until they are brought down by some stronger foe. You will perform whatever ritual there is that can unravel the path of Zelda. I command it.”
“We do as our King commands, always,” Koume said as any reluctant servant would.
“There are tools, items we need to gather from the castle,” Kotake added. “We will leave at once and return as soon as we can. In the meantime prepare a large fire before the sun rises, and cut away as much of the grass around the body as you can. There will be a great burning tonight.”
Ganon called Yorgalgan to him, and the man said nothing as he approached. “You are the fastest rider among them. You will bring the witches to the castle, and when they have collected what they need you’ll return them here faster than the desert vipers. Fail me and you will regret it.”
Yorgalgan was quick to fetch his horse, and he helped the old women on first. With a snap and a cry the horse was off, chasing after the sun as it set once more.
Ganon walked back toward the other five warriors, and they fell silent at his approach. “Orm, collect wood that will burn well, nothing damp or dulled,” he ordered sternly. “Dinta, assist him in his task. Jenda, Prollo, cut through the grass around the sage’s corpse. I don’t want any tall grass within a half a mile of us. Go, leave my sight.”
Without a word they were each of them off to do their assigned tasks. They obeyed with the cleanest obedience, the most dedicated sense of direction. Only Gargrin remained, standing near his nephew in the dark. Ganon stared ahead in thought as Gargrin watched him, expectantly.
“The war on Hyrule came so quickly upon your return home,” Gargrin said finally, breaking the silence, “I was never able to express my pleasure at seeing you after all these years. Twelve years has seen many changes in the Gerudo desert, some of them I’m sure you saw when you returned.”
Ganon turned, broken from his thought. “I left it to you and Tyran to guide the others and protect our people. It seemed you did all that was required.”
“We have seen prosperous times Ganon,” Gargrin went on, “Tyran discovered wells, veins of underground rivers that flow beneath the sands. With them we’ve been able to create thriving cities where once there was only a cluster of tents. There is so much I look forward to sharing with you when you return.”
Ganon did not smile at the news, nor did he even hint that more than a fraction of his attention was directed toward his uncle. He turned for a moment, glancing briefly in Gargrin’s direction, then sat against the grass, grunting with displeasure. “I have no love of the Gerudo cities, or of the tents or shedding orphans I left behind. When I have what I seek, I will never return to that burning city. It was always my wish that Nabooru would run the capital in my absence, while I stayed and commanded from my throne in Hyrule. Now she is gone and I am left with only plotters and sycophants.”
Gargrin’s eyes filled with worry to hear his nephew’s words, and he moved to stand in front of the sitting King. “Do you trust me so little?” he asked.
“You watched me murder my father, your brother, and instead of seeking revenge or plotting to remove me, you gave me the keys to the kingdom. While your aid has been invaluable, it’s also been built on deception. The Gerudo way is a way of lies. I do not trust any Gerudo, save for Nabooru. She is different from the rest. The only reason you or any of the others do not attack me openly is because you know you would fall. I know what you think before you’ve thought it. Each of you are faithless, violent men. Does that answer your question old man?”
Gargrin stood back, shocked at the accusations. “My lord, I have only ever sought to crown the true King,” Gargrin replied, “Gandrogon was too impulsive, too bloodthirsty. He sought to war openly with the Hylians, attacking them with the same methods that had failed so many times before. I could not see another Hylian war bring about more suffering and oppression for our people. I did what was needed.”
“Ha!” Ganon laughed, and as he did the sound of thunder rolled softly in the distance. “With no concern for yourself!” he roared. “If I hadn’t been born you would have had no opposition barring you from the throne, and I saw your eyes were hungry for it since I was just a boy. You knew I was stronger than you, smarter than you, yet you were intelligent enough to realize that the only way to achieve any form of victory against my father was to use me as the blade to cut his throat. Do not think your act is so carefully executed that it could fool me. I saw the soft glimmer of excitement that flashed in your eyes when I revealed my plans to you twelve years ago. I watched as you so humbly nominated yourself and Tyran to rule in my stead, to govern the other provinces while I unleashed a deadly plague upon Hyrule and hid myself amongst their people. My spies told me how you had taken quickly to your newly appointed position, issuing orders left and right, all in my name. I have been fair and kind in how gently I’ve treated your deceptive nature, knowing it did me no harm as long as you could taste just a little of the sweetness of power. Do not test my kindness by claiming to be so pure of intention. Blood means nothing to me if it stands in my way, and I will cut down any man who threatens my destiny.”
“Of all the Gerudo, I am the only one who knows the true treasure you seek,” Gargrin said softly, looking at Ganon with somber eyes. “It was I who spoke to you of the Triforce when you were a boy, and it was upon my suggestion that you left the desert to seek a path to power. The witches may have raised you, but it was with my words that you found your way to Hyrule, seeking the golden power. Do not forget that I have kept this secret, and you would not be here now were it not for me.”
There was a thickness, a suffocating heat, the swelled in the air between the two men and burned like hot wax. “Speaking of this aloud is a request for death,” Ganon whispered with a bloody malice. “Unlock your lips again in regards to the Triforce, and I’ll have you choking on your insides.”
Gargrin immediately turned silent, and his eyes did not meet Ganon’s, who now stared back with a volcanic intensity. “I spared you from any chores because of your age, but you’ve annoyed me with your noise. Assist the others in clearing the field, and keep yourself out of my sight. If I see you before the witches return I’ll turn your bones to splinters.”
The old man nodded, bowed, and faded quietly into the tall grass where the others had gone before him.
Ganon sat there, alone in the dark, staring out as he often did. His thoughts wheeled and twisted, and he struggled to formulate new plans. Now all of his strategy was weakened and his plotting without foundation. As long as the Princess Zelda remained hidden, he had nothing. Without her his plans were simply dreams, a mash of random events that depended on a thousand different variables. He bit hard into the inside of his cheek, cursing her name as he seethed with a terrible anger. The taste of blood flowed into his mouth and he clenched his fists at the building of his rage. Never before had anyone succeeded at keeping themselves hidden from his sight for so long. Ganon always got what he wanted. This was a truth he commanded into existence.
When a beating sound came from behind him in the wind, he turned around fast, expecting to see Yorgalgan’s horse quickly approaching. As he did, he was greeted with a sight much different from what he anticipated. Instead of a horse and rider, there was only a dark shape with large glowing eyes and two great wings. It came down swiftly, landing in the shade under a tree only a few feet away.
Ganon stood quickly, drawing his knife as the creature approached him. As he stared ahead he began to realize that what came before him was an owl, massive and old.
“Sheath your blade,” it said in a commanding voice, “it has no use between our words.”
“There is no commanding me demon,” Ganon replied in a low voice, “I will put the blade away when I see you are no threat.”
“Do what you wish Dark King,” the thing responded.
The moonlight broke through the clouds above, and as it did it illuminated the creature. The owl was unlike anything Ganon had ever seen before, rich in color and with a tremendous wingspan. As he looked upon it, the thing seemed to watch him with eyes that spanned eternity. It cocked its head as it waited for his response.
“What are you?” Ganon asked, his knife still drawn.
“Kaepora Gaebora,” he replied. “And you are Ganon, Gerudo King of Thieves.”
“In my travels, I have come across many strange things,” Ganon said, “but you are something different. I cannot sense what you are, or what power you wield, if any.”
“And even as you begin to realize this fact, you wonder if I have some magic or ability you can take for yourself,” Kaepora Gaebora said, shaking his body and ruffling his feathers.
“You know my thoughts?” Ganon asked, gradually bringing his knife down to his side.
“What I know is important, but how I come to know it is not,” the owl said. In a flash he beat his immense wings and rose into the air. He came down again, resting on a thick branch that extended from the old tree. “I know you look for the Triforce, and that blood is your path to it. You quest for eternal power.”
“There are only a few people living who have knowledge of what it is I seek,” Ganon said as he looked up at the great bird, “who has told you this?”
“No one, your path is known to me,” he replied.
“You seek to serve me then?” Ganon asked with a grin.
“I’ve come to show you a way, for it is necessary,” Kaepora Gaebora replied.
“Whatever path or road you seek to set me on, I will win the same prize no matter your advice,” Ganon said. “I will have the Triforce.”
“Yes, but then what?” Kaepora Gaebora replied.
“Then I will have the power to do what I please,” Ganon responded as if the answer were obvious.
“You already do what you please, Ganondorf Dragmire,” the owl said with a flash of his eyes. “You have always taken what you want, killed who did not serve you, stole what you desired, and sought out what you wished. Now you wield dark magic that dominates any foe, you have a skill with weapons that is unmatched, and can bring upon terror that commands respect in every living thing. But why do you seek more of what you already have in abundance?”
“So I can claim every portion of my life, so I can have what I deserve and change what must be changed. To make fair what was crafted unfairly,” Ganon replied. “I do all that I do, as you have said, to attain more power.”
“Is it that, or do you participate in a race against the fears you held when others wielded greater strength against you?” the owl responded.
Ganon stared out, his face revealing only cold sentiment. Never had anyone addressed him as the owl did, nor had anyone ever known him so intimately. Deep in his belly, in the part of him that was buried far within, there was the smallest spark of fear.
“There was a time when I was weakest, smallest among men. I had no potency, no strength. I sought it out. That is all,” Ganon snorted.
“What if I told you that the Triforce would be yours?” the owl asked. “What would you say to me if you learned that your hands would be upon it, the essence of the goddesses within your grasp?”
“I’d say you have a talent for prophesizing truths,” Ganon said with a smile.
“But you’ll never have it, not completely,” the owl followed sharply, “if I told you that the Triforce is unattainable to those who seek to attain it, what then?”
“Enough,” Ganon said through clenched teeth. “You are purposeless, you waste time with riddles and questions that supply me with nothing more than frustration.” He watched for a moment, then turned and started to walk away.
“I know the secret that will lead you to your goal” the owl said softly.
Ganon stopped, and when he looked back he saw there was nothing where the owl once stood. “Where have you gone owl?” he called softly in the darkness.
“See how you lust for power!” the owl cried with a booming voice, startling the King. He stood behind him, and as Ganon turned he opened his wings wide and shrieked with a terrible wail.
There was a wall of air that slammed against Ganon, and he felt a new sensation as his body lifted from the ground and fell hard against the earth. The air went out of his lungs and he choked as the dark shadow of the owl seemed to grow to several feet.
Slowly Kaepora Gaebora bent his head down, ticking and twitching his head from side to side as his immense, dark eyes stared deep into Ganon’s.
“Even in your own reflection you are blind, unable to see how corrupt and meaningless you really are,” he said, grinding the edges of his beak together.
“I do not fear you,” Ganon said as he got to his feet, pulling his blade once more. “Your tricks are empty shadows of strength that hold no true harm or danger.”
“Power is restraint, acceptance, and capability. Oppression, dominance, corruption, these are the illusions of a wicked mind, the false reflections of power that corrupts all men and turns their hearts as black as pitch. I warn you Ganondorf Dragmire, power is a concept too vast and detailed for you now to comprehend. Do you still seek the Triforce with so much desperation?”
“Yes,” Ganon said softly, “it is all I want in all the world.”
“Then it is done. I am no judge, only a guide to what must be. Hear me now, for this is your wayward path to the golden might,” Kaepora Gaebora said as he rose up straight, “You hunt in the right direction, I would not deter you otherwise. Yet the sage’s blood will present you with visions of many times, many places, other worlds, and you will not be able to tell what is truth and what is deception. Keep watch, and be vigilant, for the prey you seek is a boy clad in green! Heed my words, for power greater than the one who wields it will destroy from within. Do you understand?”
Ganon looked away, working the words over in his mind. “Clad in green?” he asked the naked air before him. “What is the good in knowing this?”
He turned to where the owl once stood, and saw only the field stretched out before him.
He glanced down, turning his knife over in his palm. He watched it carefully, studying the curve of the blade and the dark metal it had been crafted from.
“I understand,” he said as he sheathed the blade and turned his face to the sky.
