The Legend of Zelda

Chapter XI

Ganon stood atop the highest tower of his citadel, cruelly stroking his red beard. His black robes were swirling malevolently in the winds. The sky was glowing with a deep, blood red, and the caws of blackbirds echoed with the dying of the day. Now the night ruled over the land, and all sorts of vile and malicious creatures would hold sway over Hyrule for a meager twelve hours. This was when Ganon’s hold over the land grew strongest, when his domination as King of Hyrule was not questioned by a waking soul.

Ganon had learned to distrust humans. They were too independent and rebellious for his devices. Instead, Ganon’s army was comprised of dark beings of the night, bottom-dwelling monsters vile to human sight, but who were strong and obedient enough to allow Ganon to control them entirely. Ganon also felt a twinge of pain when he thought of his own humanity as well. Humans were so malleable and weak that he regretted being born as one. But whenever the entire Triforce was his, his humanity could be shed, and he could be a truly divine being, a deity of the utmost power and authority.

Storms blew in from the north, scattering rains over Death Mountain, sending torrents of water rushing down the crevices and valleys of the rocks. The shrieks of dying creatures rushed away in the deluge were like chants of worship to Ganon’s ears. The creatures succumbing to the final mortal certainty were praising him for shedding it long ago. Death had no power over him! Ganon had subsisted as a spirit for ages, fluctuating in and out of life and non-life, but he never relinquished the Triforce of Power. The Golden Triangle had kept him existing for thousands of years. Even in his numerous defeats and battles, Ganon had not tasted death. Yet he was not true immortal. Ganon was still subject to the will of the gods, who had willed time after time for Ganon’s body to fade into oblivion and his soul to face eternal judgment, yet Ganon never relinquished their sacred relic. The gods would soon pay for their foolishness! A mortal with the power of the gods was a dangerous man, indeed. Ganon would be a god of fire and steel, a black and merciless god. All humanity would break under his yoke, as he rightly wielded the power he had strived for ages to attain.

* * *

Link and the owl had flown away from the vast lake, over forests and streams, cascading waterfalls and snow-capped peaks until they finally reached a lone peak, jutting out of the mountain range like a needle. At the mountain’s top was a stone-carved temple, covered in white from a recent snow. As they touched down, link immediately noticed how cold these high altitudes were.

“It’s freezing up here!” he shouted, “Why don’t you notice anything?”

Kaepora Gaebora simply ruffled his feathers and remarked, “If you weren’t blessed with a heavy feather coat, then of course you would be cold. But it only gets worse from here. This peak is known in legends as Hebra’s Hill, the ancient palace of the goddess Nayru. Up the mountain are the temple and the resting place of the fifth piece of the Triforce of Wisdom. However, the ancient priests set a spell upon this hillside, so that anyone who looks back or falters from the ascent will be doomed to be ever-trekking up the mountainside for eternity.”

“That just r-r-raised my morale,” shivered Link.

“What? Did you expect the quest to be easy?”

“W-well, e-easier.” Link stuttered again.

“Come on!” the owl jested, “a dead parrot’s got more mettle than you.”

“A dead parrot is j-just that: dead.” Link rejoined.

“A faint heart ne’er won—“

“Discretion is the better part of valor,” interrupted Link, “And I’ve got plenty of discretion. Isn’t there some other way to get up the mountainside than through this ‘spell barrier’?”

“Unfortunately, no. And you’re whining is not going to make things any more bearable. Up we go!”

As soon as they began t hike up the mountainside, a fearsome wind roared down at them. Its stinging winds and freezing snow pushed Link back, but he resisted the temptation to look away from the gust, and only kept his eyes on the stone temple ahead, that never appeared to be getting any closer. But as the hours dwindled by, and Link’s feet grew sore with the cold, Kaepora Gaebora shouted,

“Look up, Link! Get out of the way!”

Enormous boulders had begun to crash down the mountainside, streaking the white mountainside with their girth. They roared just past Link, causing Kaepora Gaebora to swoop and evade. Link closed his eyes for a brief moment, and continued trudging up the mountain, summoning all of his strength just to move his feet. When Link at last reopened his eyes, the boulders were gone. He heard them crashing as they careened down the mountainside, but did not turn back to look.

As Link lifted his feet and as every step became an excruciating effort, he suddenly felt something like a weight torn off of his shoulders. The temple grew nearer with every step, and at last he and the owl stood at its threshold.

The innards of the temple were lined with silver-blue orbs, flashing on and off intermittently. Intricate carvings of a language long-forgotten danced over the walls of the passageways. The otherworldly light made these glyphs radiate with an ancient knowledge, a hidden secret that humanity could no longer grasp. The passage ran straight into the heart of the mountain, culminating in a dazzling monolithic gate. The gate was crafted of ancient granite, and it bore no design save that of a great eye.

As Link entered, the roaring wind and blazing snow died down and gave way to a reverent silence broken only by the squish of Link’s boots on the tiled floor of the temple. It was clear that this was a respected, holy place. Link stepped again, and the temple seemed to moan from its years of slumber. The walls creaked, and the silver-blue lights turned a deep grey. It was as if Link had descended into the realm of the soul, as if the very boundaries of the world were being stretched and distorted. Swirling, twisting patterns began to illuminate the walls, and low mystic pipe music seemingly played from nowhere. Link became startled, and wheeled around, only to see nothing but the owl following behind him and nothing but the silver-blue glow of the orb lanterns.

“Anything the matter?” asked Kaepora Gaebora.

“Erm, no, just checking to see if you were there,” Link lied sheepishly.

Turn faced the gate again. The eerie lights traversed the walls yet again, and the glyphs began to shift and turn, the luminous essence oscillating through the writing. As Link neared the gate, the lights encircled the eye symbol, and spelled out a cryptic message below:

SINS AND VICES HAVE YE NOT ERE YE BEHOLD THE CHAMBER OF SACRAMENTS. PURIFY THYSELF IN BLOOD AND STEEL, FOR A TAINTED SOUL SHALL PERISH, AND NONE BUT THE REDEEMED ARE WORTHY. THOU SHALT TUNE THE FLUTE OF SPIRIT ERE THE ESSENCES OF HEAVEN YE FIND. DESIRE IS A FAULT MORTAL, AND PRIDE IS A SIN OF SCARLET BLOOD.

Immediately, the hallway twisted and turned, a great blackness spreading over the passage. It crawled the walls like a slinking snake, twisting and turning, slinking its way across the floors until it had enveloped Link. All was blackness; all was inky, pitch black.

When the shadows left his eyes, Link found himself alone in a vast chamber, illuminated by the silver-blue orbs that lined the hallways. Three pillars filled the capacious chamber, their girth unsurpassed by any building Link had seen or heard of. There were no entrances or exits. All of the walls were of thick, solid granite. All of the walls, however, except for a small copper plaque embedded in a pillar. It was engraved in the Hyrulian script, and read:

THE TRANSGRESSOR IS NOT WORTHY OF THE ESSENCE OF THE GODS. HIS PRIDE AND EGO ARE TOO GREAT TO FIT WITHIN THE HOLY PLACE. THEY FILL THIS CHAMBER IN ALL THEIR HORRENDOUS MONSTROSITY, AND ARE UNSTOPPABLE SAVE WITH THE FLUTE OF SPIRIT. HERE, THE TRANSGRESSOR SHALL PERISH AT THE MERCY OF HIS OWN VICE.

Link pondered these words. Apparently, this was yet another test instituted by the ancient priests to ensure not just anyone waltzed up and violated the temple. While he admired their no-nonsense approach, Link couldn’t help but feel that the magical transportation security system was just overkill.

“Hey, I’ll find a way out of here,” Link said aloud, “Nobody’s ever held me for longer than a second. No old fogies are going to tie me up with magical security systems, no sir! I’m Link, the legendary hero!”

But just as he uttered his last defiant word, a great crash filled the chamber, sending the pillars shaking at their foundations. Link fell to the ground, tripping over his own ankles in the tremor. Another quake followed. Link raised his head, and beheld the ugliest thing he had ever seen in his life.

The monster was shaped like a gelatinous sea urchin, a great sphere covered in poisoned spikes. It had no mouth or limbs, only a single hideous red eye. It shook the room as it jumped, raising its enormous girth into the air and sending it crashing down again.

Remembering Gohma, Link drew his bow and aimed surely for the open eye and fired, the arrow striking the monster square in the pupil. But it did not writhe or scream or wail. The arrow glanced off the slimy surface of its eye and fell impotently to the ground. Refusing to admit defeat, Link drew a bomb from his satchel, lit it, and the lobbed it at the monster. A mighty explosion followed, sending shards of rock and shrapnel flying through the air, but the creature was unscathed. Frightened, yet amazed at this thing’s resiliency, Link ducked behind a pillar and froze.

What could this thing be? The plaque had mentioned something about his “pride and ego.” Could this creature be some kind of manifestation of his own pride? Link could admit to having a swollen ego sometimes, but he never believed his conceit to be so large as to become monstrous. The plaque had mentioned a “flute of spirit.” Link dratted himself. There was no way to beat this thing. But then a small idea entered the back of his head.

If the monster was his swollen ego, the best thing to do was to stop fighting it vainly. If Link tried humility, perhaps the monster would simply vanish. He closed his eyes and prayed silently that this would work. He thought back to every time he had been conceited or puffed himself up, and rectified it. He remembered his true station before the quest: a lazy do-nothing. All this time, he had believed that only he was responsible for the quest’s many successes. He thought back and remembered all the guidance and help he had received from Kaepora Gaebora, Impa, and the ghostly king. He was not alone in this epic struggle. He was minute, a modest player in a noble cause.

As Link opened his eyes, he held a small wooden flute ornately carved in an ancient script. His heart leaped as he darted from behind the pillar and blew into the mouthpiece.

The sound was harsh and shrill, an ear-splitting sound that could wake the dead, but it did the trick. The Flute of Spirit’s sound penetrated the monster’s defenses. It writhed and wiggled as it steamed and melted into oblivion. A feeling like a great rushing wind swept over him as he found himself at the gate, standing beside Kaepora Gaebora. As the gate swung open, the marvelous Golden Triangle was reveled upon an ancient altar.

Link and the owl touched its shimmering surface and were swept to the foot of the mountains.

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