by N Felts
a perimeter. Continuing to spawn more and more of the sentinels, Geist arranges them in long columns, hovering a set distance apart from each other, and slowly rotating his form like a carnival ride at midnight. Now completely surrounded by the dimly lit runways, the ghost hunter is prepared for anything the ninja might attempt. “You will join your ancestors this night,” Garo adds, prompting Geist’s vision to wander to the lantern hanging from his waist. Their endless banter is enough to drive a man mad, but their voices have grown silent for now, the contained ghosts swirling complacently in their tiny confinement.
Suddenly, a line of the spiked balls begins to rapidly vanish one at a time. Ting, ting, ting! The ninja’s blades eat through them as if they were being fed into a shredder. Spinning around, Geist begins to summon the remainder of his projectiles toward himself, the orbs sporadically rotating his form like a collection of planets circling a star. Ting, ting, ting, ting! The lone noise in the dark night continues and increases in momentum. Close enough to see brief glimpses of slicing blades and billowing cloth, the ghost hunter attempts the kill. A half dozen of the glowing projectiles spiral around his outstretched arm and spread outward, forming a loosely knit sphere around the approaching foe. The second they’ve reached the optimum positioning, Geist closes his fist, prompting them to mash together like a three dimensional guillotine. The ethereal orbs impact nothing but each other at the center of the trap as Garo briefly enters the shadows to emerge behind his opponent. Turning on his heels, the reaver launches another swirl of the deadly spiked balls, but they spread into the darkness, failing to impact anything at all. Beginning to understand the game the zombie intends to play, Geist decides he must end the fight as quickly as possible. Pulling his solar system of translucent spheres toward himself, the ghost hunter abandons his attempt to seek the ninja out of the darkness. The orbs mesh together in an illuminated shell, surrounding Geist completely save for directly in front of him. An instant later, Garo takes the bait appearing from nowhere and stabbing through the only opening in the reaver’s defense. Slamming the shell shut at the last moment like a clam clamped around a pearl, the ninja’s swords are caught in a bear trap of sorts.
“Gotcha,” Geist mumbles with a smile. The protective shell explodes in every direction, and to the ghost hunter’s delight, the pair of swords fall to his feet. A distant rumbling confuses the Ikanian in his moment of victory, but even so, he manages to react in time. A mighty column of fire erupts where he stood seconds ago, launching the ninja’s swords into the air where Garo promptly collects them in a stylish somersault. His robe ablaze, the zombie descends upon his prey until the instant he has absorbed the flame completely, vanishing into the darkness in the blink of an eye. Caught off guard, Geist stumbles back a step as the assassin seems to teleport behind him whirling into a vicious string of attacks. Gradually summoning his orbs back to him, the reaver launches the swirling projectiles at his opponent five and six at a time. Spinning and twirling his blades between attacks, Garo deflects the pesky projectiles like angry swarms of bees meeting a ceiling fan, always moving forward with the intent of wearing his antagonist down. Deflecting another torrent of flying orbs, the ninja dips in for the death stroke.
Slicing clean through Geist’s torso, the only lingering concern perplexing the zombie is the ease with which he cleaved the man in two. Without warning, three of the spiked spheres still lingering nearby smash together on one of the ninja’s wrists, the other quickly suffering the same fate. Inadvertently dropping his swords, Garo is pulled into the air by the crushing handcuffs, quickly thrashing himself free from their confines. An instant later, a dozen more of the deadly orbs tightly constrict around his waist like a barbed belt, holding him in place high off the ground. Below him, his rival’s image seems to bend before vanishing as Geist opens a conjured mirror as if it were a doorway, stepping into place where his reflection suffered a fatal blow. His arm still glowing brightly, he holds up his hand, preparing to execute the relentless ninja.
“This isn’t over!” Garo roars, his hands burning as he attempts to free himself from his mystical belt. His robe begins to singe and melt away as if the tightly constricting spheres were coated with acid. “You think you’ve won, but—” With a twist of his wrist, Geist closes his palm and looks away as his ethereal weapons spin in a steadily tightening circle ripping through the ninja’s body like a glowing chainsaw. Tumbling back to the ground in two halves, the zombie has finally met his end. The first glimpse of dawns light crawls into the horizon as Link and Zelda rejoin their unlikely ally. Clawing at the earth and eventually righting himself, Garo’s speeches have yet to end. Quickly grabbing an empty bottle from his coat and summoning another sphere to his palm, Geist prepares to finish him.
“Don’t know when to quit do you?” The reaver asks, stepping forward. Quickly cutting him off, Link holds up a hand before crouching down to listen to the ninja’s final words. In his experience, the Garo tend to offer critical advice in their final moments.
“If I fall, ten shall take my place. We will always hunt you, reaver,” he reveals, eyeing Geist hatefully. “And you, void-walker. You are this worlds undoing. The goddesses play a dangerous game,” he pauses, struggling to speak. “Everything has changed. The time of heroes has passed. When those you wish to save need you most,” he starts, his tone turning almost compassionate as he eyes Link. “You will fail.” Taking no heed to his words, the hero is only affected by the genuine tone radiating from the fallen warrior. Even if his words are meant to disorient or discourage, there remains a certain degree of truth behind it all. A truth he simply cannot grasp just yet. Clutching a hand to his chest, the ninja offers one final phrase. “And so I die, leaving no corpse… That is the way of the Garo,” he concludes with a sinister tone.
“No!” Zelda breathes in the critical instant, extending her hand. A colossal explosion of flame envelops the northern end of Hyrule Field, reaching all the way to the Castle Town walls. The firestorm quickly subsides, revealing the barren wasteland the ninja has created. The grass lies upon the bare earth, black and singed in a massive circumference surrounding ground zero. The faint light of dawn only serves to somewhat illuminate the dark clouds overhead, the ample destruction wrecked upon central Hyrule by the failed siege, and now the fallen Garo’s suicide. Lowering her palm, Zelda’s protective barrier dissipates, the blast never touching the tired trio thanks to the queen’s quick reflexes. With a subtle sigh, Geist starts southward.
“There goes my payday,” he mumbles, his hood climbing up over his head within a precise gust of wind as he scratches at the stubble beginning to mar his face.
“Hey,” Zelda starts, perplexed by the wanderer’s actions. “You’re leaving?”
“No tears, love,” he replies, turning to smile beneath the large fangs of his Wolfos hood. “You heard the spook. Best to keep moving. Take care of yourself gorgeous. You too lucky charms,” he concludes, lazily lifting a hand as he turns away and departs.
“He’s right,” Navi chips in, drifting east. “Besides we still need to get to Kakariko.” With a brief gasp, Zelda realizes she is right. Any number of things could have happened while they were distracted by the ninja. Breaking into a sprint, Link knows Epona will have headed south to steer clear of danger. The short trek to Kakariko Village is nothing to summon her over, and after a fast-paced jog, they’ve reached the village entrance in no time. Climbing the old steps into the mountain shrouded village, the group hears thunder in the distance. A collective gasp freezes each of them in place when the destruction comes into view. The collection of shops and houses lie in ruins. Debris coats every alley and walkway, the brick, and wood, and glass cast aside as though a giant ransacked the area in search of something. Moving into town, Link notes the landmark windmill still stands, but barely so, only one of the four fins still dangling from the severely damaged structure. Somewhere nearby, a girl can be heard crying weakly, prompting Zelda t
o teleport to a higher vantage point. The well in the center of town is now a massive crater. An ugly, dark ravine adding to the desolation that has become Kakariko. Searching for the queen, Link soon spots her comforting young Luda who sits next to her father’s corpse. Renado, the universally respected shaman lies inert, undoubtedly struck down in a foolish attempt to protect the village.
“Hey, isn’t that,” Navi starts, grabbing Links attention. Starting up the Death Mountain trail, the boy in black he fought only a day ago glances over his shoulder to realize he has been spotted. “Link, be careful. You remember he,” she starts, cut off by an angry war cry. The hero’s tired form instantly finds its second wind, his thighs pushing off the cracked stone walkway with untapped strength as he charges through the village. Drawing his hookshot, he shoots one of the few buildings still intact, soaring across the bleak environment with vengeance in his eyes. Not seeming to want a fight, Rift begins to run up the trail, fleeing the scene of the crime as quickly as he is able. Kicking off the corner of