The Legend of Zelda: Fall of Ikana

by N Felts

Cale allows his partner a moment to rest. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he whispers into the wind.

  “I hope so,” Geist nods cynically, still wondering why he was volunteered for scouting when they could have had an easy day of ration gathering. “Where are you taking us?”

  “You’ll see,” he chuckles, dashing into the street while staying close to cover. Trekking deep into enemy territory, the duo are forced to suddenly stop short when they spot a Garo foot-soldier around a corner. Walking listlessly and without purpose, it suddenly blinks out of sight, reappearing a short distance away and knocking over a cart containing useless supplies. His large poncho billows in the sporadic wind, concealing and revealing his cloth-wrapped legs. Turning to face the scouts, his green eyes show no signs of having spotted them as they quickly recede behind cover. Resuming its aimless search, the ninja dashes into the wind once again, disappearing for an instant, but reemerging further down the road.

  “Spirit?” Geist asks, unable to get a good look thus far.

  “Nope,” Cale sighs, shaking his head.

  “Ugh,” he whines, letting his shoulders slump down. “I hate zombies.”

  “What’s the play?” Cale inquires, warming his hands with his breath. “The usual?”

  “Naturally,” he agrees, searching for an acceptable ambush point. Silently rounding the corner, Geist conjures a translucent mirror the size of a door, rendering himself invisible to the target. Pacing at the far end of the narrow street, the Garo ninja vanishes and reappears in a crouched, offensive position when Cale lets out a piercing whistle. Standing in the middle of the intersection, he wags his rear end at the approaching zombie, allowing its anger and hatred to dull its senses. Rapidly blinking in and out of the visible spectrum, the ghoul is nearly upon Cale when Geist spins from his hiding place into an assertive palm thrust, stopping the undead assailant in its tracks. Stunned for only a moment, the Garo attempts to raise the dual blades hanging out of its poncho, but a sudden clench of Geist’s fingers cause ruptures resembling lightning bolts to shoot in all directions across the foe’s chest. Grabbing his foe’s shoulder with his free hand while the jagged cracks multiply, Geist closes his eyes to concentrate as the defeated soldier begins to spasm. The spreading wounds across its torso glow a blinding white as Geist collects the loose fragments of its soul, and channels them into his arm. The Garo finds itself unable to move as its green eyes turn pure white, projecting ghostly waves of flickering light into the open air before dimming down to nothing. Releasing the corpse, Geist continues to stand perfectly still, his arm still extended where he once gripped the ghoul’s chest. Finally opening his eyes, they glow a pale green until the hue disperses like parting clouds seconds later. His distant stare regains its focus, and the ritual is complete.

  “Well?” Cale asks with a somber anticipation.

  “Worthless,” he sighs, staring at his open palm. His seamless tattoo twists down his arm and ends in a spiral upon his palm. A vortex from which he pulls his conjurations. “Undead are too fragmented,” he mutters, agitated. “I need something a thousand times purer.”

  “Even if we found this mythical something, you really think you can pull it off?” Cale offers, clearly skeptical. “Not to mention survive the process.”

  “I can do it,” he declares with passion, the topic clearly becoming a touchy subject. “I know I can,” he continues, his tone softening. “I have enough for a last resort, yeah? But it might grab fifty of the weak ones, tops.”

  “How many do you think are out there?”

  “You’ve seen enough to know, but I can feel them. The stronger ones—“

  “What do you mean, feel them?” He asks, suddenly very curious.

  “Forget it,” Geist concludes, aiming to set them back to the task at hand.

  “Come on, we’re getting close,” Cale finally declares, resuming his stealthy antics. Traversing several blocks of deserted streets reveals no clues as to where Cale may be leading them until Geist rounds a very familiar building. A potent wave of déjà vu steals the breath from his lungs as the marketplace swells to life. Conversation and laughter overwhelm his senses as the sun pierces through the clouds, and reveals a teeming mass of people. Children happily dash between bartering people, the sights and smells of a gargantuan cornucopia of fresh food leaving Geist in a state of utter nirvana. Suddenly, a little girl breaks off from a larger group of children, blissfully jogging to a gradual stop directly in front of him. Her gleeful visage drastically morphs into a disfigured expression of horror as she lets out a bloodcurdling scream, her eyes locked onto Geists as her form grows stiff and fades away.

  “—ist! Geist, run!” Cale shouts, nimbly sprinting out of the area himself. Returning to his senses gradually, Geist’s balance is thrown when another shrill scream slices through the air. Originating somewhere above him, his predicament suddenly becomes very clear. Immediately dashing behind a decaying market stall, Geist doesn’t take cover a second too soon as a massive keeserroc lands in the street with a heavy crunch. Making no effort to look around, the pair of small, glossy eyes on each side of its head an evolutionary relic, the bat-dragon tilts its head slightly, its large ears twitching in search of the faintest noise. Geist remains perfectly still, seated with his back to the creature and resolute in holding his breath until it decides to move on. The only sound in the area besides the droning wind is his heavily thumping heart, but there is little he can do to quiet it. The monster crouches down on all fours, listening even more intently when the faint thumping is finally confirmed.

  “Damn!” Geist curses, instantly springing from his hiding place as the Keeserroc inhales a long, powerful breath, its scaled torso doubling in size from the effort. Diving beneath a stone archway he clamps both hands over his ears as the creature unleashes another deafening scream, its long, thin tongue rippling within the torrent. The vast collection of market stalls are split down the middle, the focused beam of sound causing several to fundamentally break down. The shabby wooden booths splinter and fall apart gradually as if a thousand intangible termites were devouring them. Marching into the destruction it has caused, the beast throws bits of debris out of its path, moving in to confirm the kill. Utilizing its knuckles, the enormous bat covers ground rapidly, despite its flight-based anatomy. The beast’s shovel of a nose sucks in all the surrounding smells, however, dilapidated muscle and burst organs are not among them. A scraping of footsteps betrays Geist’s departure, the monsters mighty black wings spreading wide before he rapidly takes flight. Scampering down a narrow alleyway, Geist skillfully dodges the obstacles in his path, all the while concentrating on making as little noise as possible. A heavy thud shakes the ground, and seconds later, the monster inhales forcefully once again. With no alternative, Geist leaps up to a nearby window, and with a grunt of exertion, pulls himself out of the deathtrap as the shrill blast evaporates the contents of the alleyway, sweeping diagonally toward the window he just traversed. The sound rips through the large, stone building like an invisible harrow, the molecules of rock vibrating apart and causing the structural integrity to fail as the entire building quickly collapses upon itself.

  The toppling construction of stone forces even the monstrous bat to rapidly beat its wings to escape the falling debris, taking to the sky to continue the hunt. Guessing the predator will assume its prey continues to flee, Geist takes a chance at outwitting the creature. Stumbling out of the open doorway, he narrowly escapes being crushed as he doubles back toward the marketplace. Vaulting up and over a short wall of stone, he twists his ankle on landing when his foot collides with the skull of a fish skeleton. After rolling to his back and cursing his luck, he sees the Keeserroc soar into view high above the disused fish racks, scanning the ground for its elusive dinner. His options all but gone, Geist’s eyes slowly fall to find his ticket out of the predicament. A short chain hanging from a hook, formally utilized to advertise a reekfish, no
w dangles with its large iron tag, broken and faded so that it now simply reads, “Reek.”

  “Sound about right,” Geist smiles, climbing to his good leg and snatching the noisy label from its resting place. Instantly catching the sound, the dragon rolls into a dive, spreading its wings after obtaining optimum speed. Dashing away as quickly as he’s able, Geist grabs a loose plank of wood, dragging it against the long stone wall and causing all of the fish labels to swing and crash into each other noisily. The bat destroys a large section of the wall with its landing, angrily attempting to see through the irritating noise. Realizing his heartbeat pales in comparison to the chiming metal, Geist limps to a stop and simply waits in the open as the mighty beast draws closer. Growling and groaning during its approach, the monster twists its head and clenches its fists with every clang of iron. Tossing the plank of wood over his shoulder, Geist holds the thick clasp of the iron tag between his outstretched hands. “Come on, Reek,” he mutters under his breath. “There’s a good lad.”

  The clatter of wood snaps the dragon’s head upright, its long jawline seeming to smile as the location of its prey