Garo
Boy Wonder
[This is a story that interprets the region of Ikana from Majora's Mask. It does NOT necessarily fit with the established story of the game. Everything that takes place within this story is used for artistic purpose, not accuracy.
The story is divided into two segments. The first segment chronicles the rise of the Garo in Ikana, and is told from the viewpoint of three different characters: Taro, Flat, and Keeta. The second segment tells the story of Taro's mission and the end of days, from the viewpoint of a third-person narrator. Only the first segment is available at this time, but it may be viewed as a self contained piece. Please enjoy! - GX]
[The following story is rated PG-13 for: Violence and Thematic Elements]
- 1 -
Flat
I served the Royal Family of Ikana my entire life. My brother Sharp and I were born into their service as castle servants. We were treated well, and the family showed us a great deal of compassion, allowing us a great deal of free time, which we filled with learning music. Over the years we developed quite a knack for it. A few years before his death, King Varos noticed this, took a liking to our music, and gave us the great honor of Royal Composers. It was then our duty to write and play music for the whims of the Royal Family.
At first, it was wonderful. We created beautiful music together, music that had incredible power - the power to heal the sick, to turn day to night, to energize the soul. But our songs were not enough, and Varos died suddenly. They could not heal him nor could our words console him. Frightened, delirious, and distraught, my king suffered for three long days before being granted the mercy of death. It was a day I shall never forget.
O mighty soul who lit the path,
O regal king of all!
You bravely faced Death's wrath,
Now we shall bear its pall.
Your spirit rests, at long last,
Within the sacred past.
After Varos' death, his younger brother, Igos, became the king, for Varos had no male heirs. Igos was a very different king. He openly rejected the three Ideas on which Ikana was founded, had grand visions of conquest and grandeur, and had a sharp, cunning wit that made one watch themselves in his presence for fear of being verbally assaulted.
Igos' ideas were the death of Ikana, and I'd wager the death of Varos as well.
Nevertheless - for Varos, if for no one else, I continued my work and service to the Royal Family of Ikana. Unfortunately, Sharp and I had a bitter falling out not long after Varos' death. We each took to his death differently - I succumbed to a deep sorrow, whereas Sharp was filled with anger and bitterness to match. I warned him that his emotions were going to end us both, especially with Igos as king, but he did not relent. He left the castle in a fury one day, and I didn't speak to him again.
With Varos and Sharp both gone, I buried myself in my work to prevent the sorrow from overtaking me. Fortunately, Igos helped with this by putting me to work very soon after Sharp's departure. Igos had a grand vision - a tower that would reach the heavens, in defiance of the gods themselves. "Men," he said, "are the true gods." He tasked me with writing a melody to immortalize the conception of this idea. Silly though it may sound, Igos cared about documenting history, about creating monuments to his own vanity. The day construction on the Tower began, I played this song for Igos:
A tower of stone
At the gods' front door.
Into the unknown,
into forgotten lore.
For grand Ikana,
For immortal man,
ever shall
the Tower stand.
His approval was not as important nor as validating as Varos' approval. He gave it just as willingly, but I knew it was because it bolstered his own ego, not because of any particular musical aptitude on my own part. The Tower was his child. He would nurture it in any way he could, and immortalize himself along the way.
So did Ikana's troubles begin. As the Tower grew tall, anomalies began to surface within the Castle. The sick began to walk freely again, and within a year, there were no sick, period. All were well, and filled with renewed vigor and livelihood. New life was breathed into Ikana - unnatural life. Something was rotten in the kingdom of Ikana, and I knew precisely what it was. The Stone Tower of Igos continued to rise to the heavens and Ikana became stranger by the day. Years passed as the construction of the Tower continued. Ikana became a land where nobody was sick, where nobody died. And as the world changed, I remained the same - forsaken by the only ones who meant anything to me.
Taro
Ikana was blind, and its people even more so. The pall cast upon the land during the construction of that wretched Tower was palpable. Though we may have been alive and more vigorous, our lives were far worse. King Igos had delegated the building of the tower to us citizens, and while the increased energy the mysterious power brought us sped along the process, it was grueling work that offered no reward but for Igos' vanity.
I often escaped the toils of working on the Tower and climbed down the Great Stair to the ground below the cliff on which Ikana rested. There was a river at the bottom of the cliff. The sounds of the flowing water were very soothing, and I would wade up and down it often. One day, I went far down on an end I had never been to before. There, I found that the water entered a cave inside the cliff face. Inside was a dark, abyssal grotto. Water dripped from the rocks overhead. This area was completely untouched by Ikans, past or present.
And yet, as I stood inside there, I heard them. I heard generations past of Ikans, parents and children, whispering profusely. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but whatever they were saying they said with conviction. There was a sense of finality to their voices - almost commanding, even. They grew louder, more demanding, deafening, controlling. Their voices overpowered all other senses, I could smell them, taste them, see them, feel them, I was going to scream I couldn't focus I couldn't think I could only stand and be torn apart by the sound - and then it stopped.
I slowly got back to the my feet - I didn't remember falling to my knees - and was hit with sudden understanding. I knew then what I had to do, what was going to be necessary. A few moments ago I would have thought the idea monstrous, but I was different now. I wanted it very much to happen, and I knew it would come to that, and I was thrilled, filled with fantastic terrors I'd never felt before.
I left the grotto, knowing I would be coming back, and returned back up the Great Stair to Ikana proper. What I saw was terrifying. The Stone Tower had been completed after so many long years, and King Igos was standing before it, announcing the building of the Stone Tower Temple at the apex of the tower. But that wasn't the most terrifying thing. The River Shrine at the top of the canyon was no longer flowing. Grass had stopped growing. Everything looked dead, except the crowd gathered before Igos. The air was dry. I was struck with a sudden thirst, a need for water, but there was nothing nearby - not even so much as moisture in the air. I took one look at the Tower, and knew that this Thirst was here to stay, and would last a long, long time.
It was not long before Ikana became a desolate wasteland, void of most all life. The once thriving land had died while its people could not. The most we could do was continue to build the Stone Tower Temple - at least, that is what they thought. In secret, I began to approach like-minded individuals regarding what needed to be done to save Ikana. The first of many was Geron, one of my only remaining friends.
"You're just superstitious," Geron would always say, "the gods are just myths. Men are the true gods." Had the Tower made them so arrogant that they could forget their history? I knew that this, at least, was not the Tower's fault. No, that fault belonged to another.
"Geron, surely you must see the folly here. Igos has no idea how to lead our people. That damned Tower has brought torment down upon this land. Do you not remember the green fields we used to walk?"
Geron paused for a moment. "I do remember them, Taro, but that was a lifetime ago. Do you wish to be dead right now? The Tower has allowed us to live, in defiance of our so-called 'makers'."
"This is not living. We are walking corpses. When is the last time we ever felt quenched? It's been a lifetime at least. I'm tired of being parched, Geron." I looked directly into his eyes. "You know what I mean to do."
"I do, and it's equally folly. Just accept this as the way things are, Taro."
"I can't do that. You know I can't."
Geron sighed. "Yes, I do. And I suppose I will support you, Taro. I know you're right. I just wish you weren't."
He was with me. The others would come in time. Over the course of the next ten years, I had gathered around 500 men devoted to my cause. I convened a meeting within the grotto I had discovered earlier, which I had taken to calling Bloodthirst Grotto. Why?
"Gentlemen. You know why we are here. For too long have we been living when we should be dying. For too long have we toiled away on Igos' temple, that monument to his own vanity and in strictest defiance of the gods. We have only one option."
All eyes in the room stared straight up at me, unblinking. The silence was audible.
"We have to kill Igos du Ikana."
The silence thundered. Nobody said anything. Nobody had to. The silence was agreement. That was to be the way of the Garo.
Keeta
My loyalty was always to the Ikana Royal Family, and never did I walk the path of righteousness so fervently than under Igos du Ikana, the Great King. I was there on the ground floor of the Stone Tower, and for the decades that followed I built it unwaveringly. When the Tower was completed, I once again led the charge on building the Temple that would adorn its apex.
But I did not remain on the building team. One glorious day, I was called into the Great Castle of Ikana to meet with King Igos himself, by personal request. I was overjoyed that I was summoned by my King, and I ran to the Castle immediately. There, the King thanked me for my years of loyal service and told me something that he had not told anybody else at the time.
"There is a force of opposition gathering in Ikana, Keeta."
This was not the first I'd heard of it. One night, a man crouched and wearing a long flowing robe appeared by my bedside. He told a tale of deception, of lies, of irreverence toward the gods, and said that it was because of King Igos that we were suffering through the Thirst. I leapt up and attempted to grab the man, but he vanished quickly. The treasonous creature had not returned.
"They are foolish, Your Majesty."
"Yes, that they are." He paused for a long time, studying me. "Keeta, I would like to congratulate you. In an effort to quash this rebellion, I am promoting you to the position of Captain of my new army."
I was stunned. Ikana had not had an army in centuries, since the seizure of the canyon from the Goron. To be honored as the Captain of a brand new Ikan Army was nothing less than my wildest fantasy, and it was being fulfilled because of my dedicated service. I thanked the king profusely, and was dismissed shortly after to address my new troops.
I arrived outside the Castle to find a massive battalion awaiting me - some 10,000 men strong. It was an astonishing number given how many still were positioned on the Temple construction crew. I did not question it, however. I merely followed orders - orders that I was now taking directly from the King. I was only tasked with training the forces at that moment, but it was not long before that training was put to the test.
A week later, at the sacred River Shrine, a loud explosion was heard. I sent a detachment of troops to investigate immediately, and only one returned to report: the rebellious men were attacking the shrine. With the full force of the Ikan Army, I set out at once and launched a counterattack. They were far outnumbered, and yet they laid waste to my forces. The casualties on our side were immense, with only a middling amount of their soldiers succumbing to their wounds. They were all cloaked, with their faces hidden behind shadows, their eyes glowing green.
From within the shrine, a second explosion was heard, and suddenly water came gushing forth from the opening in the rock wall. It did not last, however: as soon as the water reached us, it turned to steam. We could not drink the water, nor could we touch it - there was only steam. Unfortunately, it cloaked the attackers even further, and gave them yet another advantage. I found one standing apart from the rest, and dressed slightly differently. Recognizing him as the one that had visited me those years ago, I began to attack him - he was surely in a position of power, if not the leader. He dodged all of my blows - my claymore was no match for him. He drew twin blades of thin steel and began to launch a counterattack. His blade caught my knee and sent me falling to the ground.
He placed a blade at my throat and spoke to me in a harsh, gravelly voice that I recognized as the same one those years ago: "You could have joined us, but instead you joined him. I should kill you right here." I spat at him, and he sliced a gash in my other leg. "And now you mock me. Well. One day soon you shall come to fear us." Leaning forward, the masked warrior sheathed his blades within his cloak. "You will fear the Garo, or you will suffer, and you will die, Keeta." With those words, he leapt away. I slowly got to my feet and saw the result of the River Shrine Battle: half of my men dead, with few of the attackers slain. A crushing defeat. The Garo were indeed a force to be reckoned with.
Over the next five years, construction on the Temple continued - bizarrely, given the size of the project it should have finished; I was not on the team, however, so I could not say why it was taking so long - and the battles with the Garo grew increasingly frequent. Their leader was revealed to be a man called Taro. He was the one who had spoken to me twice now. The rest appeared to have no unique voice, speaking in the same gravelly voice in which Taro spoke. They were many, and yet one, and that made them a serious threat. We managed to combat them to a great degree and push them out of Ikana proper, but they had a base somewhere at the base of the Great Stair, and were able to continuously launch assaults.
Word reached my ears of assassination attempts. I did not fear the Garo - my time would come when it did.
Taro
Our cause was just. Our cause was righteous. Our cause was worth dying for. Our cause was something to fight for.
What had Igos' forces to fight for? They clung desperately to failing ideology, bowed a knee to gradually deteriorating leadership. With every man they lost, our resolve grew. The wretched Tower, and the Temple being erected at its apex, would fall to our blades.
Our victory lie in our enemies' fear. Few of them had ever seen our full strength - less than a quarter of those originally involved in the River Shrine Massacre remained - so they relied entirely upon our now legendary reputation. Our numbers were larger in their minds than in reality. It made them weak. Fearful soldiers are dead soldiers.
To perpetuate this mystery, this guise of shadow over our ranks, I created the Law of the Garo. My men are impeccably trained and rarely fall in battle - but they die like all other men. When a Garo is mortally wounded, they are to die - and leave no corpse. By whatever means they choose, their bodies shall not be recovered on the field of battle. It will always be a barren field littered with the corpses of deluded Ikans. Not a single Garo will lie defeated.
Fear is power. But fear among the soldiers is not power enough. It must be spread to the populace, the masses whom follow Igos' every word, deluded as they are. Two men must die in order to spread our pall over Ikana. Two men who capture the hearts and souls of the public.
Flat
I was begging for death.
Igos was unfit to rule, an abomination of a king and a desecration of the Ikana line. The days had grown long with toil as the people trudged to build his godforsaken Temple. My music had lost its power, my own soul void of its former passion.
And yet, because of the Tower, I could not die. No man in Ikana would raise a blade against me for fear of Igos' wrath, and I could not die of my own accord. I was trapped in life, wanting to die but being unable to do it. So miserable an existence is scarcely imaginable.
That fateful day, as I walked aimlessly in the plaza, searching for purpose, my prayers were answered. A silent assassin crept up behind me, and with a quick thrust of his blade, granted my dying wish. With my last breath, I whispered the words, "Thank you." The white void opened before me, and a heavenly chorus began to sound. I knew that sound... it was the sound of my music, in perfect harmony.
Oh the torment bred in the race,
the grinding scream of death...
Keeta
I knew my time had come.
My men had been all but eliminated. I was left with some scant two dozen soldiers, all brave to the highest and loyal to the end, but against the unknown and unmatched might of the Garo, we stood no chance. I had failed my king. Such shame was not something I wanted to live with. In those moments, I begged for death. It was this that made me aware that my time had come.
It came softly at the sunrise. I sat at the top of the Great Stair as the sun crept over the canyon edge behind me, bathing Ikana in golden rays. It was a beautiful sight for which one could not help but feel pride. I heard him appear behind me in virtual silence. I didn't need to see or hear him to know who it was.
"I don't fear you."
The assassin sat silent for a moment. "I know."
"Why didn't you kill me all those days ago? I was at your mercy, and you spared me."
"Because I wanted you to know why I was killing you." He paused. "Do you feel it? Do you feel the dry air, Keeta? The desiccated earth cries out in anguish. We haven't been quenched in far too long."
Silence. I did not respond.
"I don't need you to tell me that you want to die. I can smell it in the air. You want to die because you failed your king. But, Keeta, that is a lie." He paused. "And you know it."
The assassin began slowly moving forward. I didn't turn to face him.
"Your king failed you, Keeta. That's why I didn't kill you when I could have those many days ago. Because now you know why you must die, and now you know why it is I am going to do what I have planned." I still did not respond.
"You must die so that Igos can die. I am sorry it came to this, Keeta. You would have made a valuable ally."
A cold shaft of steel plunged through my chest, its chill spreading throughout my body until I felt frozen solid. The world in front of me faded to white, and all sound ceased.
End of -1-
(Credit to Aeschylus, Poe for poetic inspiration)
The story is divided into two segments. The first segment chronicles the rise of the Garo in Ikana, and is told from the viewpoint of three different characters: Taro, Flat, and Keeta. The second segment tells the story of Taro's mission and the end of days, from the viewpoint of a third-person narrator. Only the first segment is available at this time, but it may be viewed as a self contained piece. Please enjoy! - GX]
[The following story is rated PG-13 for: Violence and Thematic Elements]
- 1 -
Flat
I served the Royal Family of Ikana my entire life. My brother Sharp and I were born into their service as castle servants. We were treated well, and the family showed us a great deal of compassion, allowing us a great deal of free time, which we filled with learning music. Over the years we developed quite a knack for it. A few years before his death, King Varos noticed this, took a liking to our music, and gave us the great honor of Royal Composers. It was then our duty to write and play music for the whims of the Royal Family.
At first, it was wonderful. We created beautiful music together, music that had incredible power - the power to heal the sick, to turn day to night, to energize the soul. But our songs were not enough, and Varos died suddenly. They could not heal him nor could our words console him. Frightened, delirious, and distraught, my king suffered for three long days before being granted the mercy of death. It was a day I shall never forget.
O mighty soul who lit the path,
O regal king of all!
You bravely faced Death's wrath,
Now we shall bear its pall.
Your spirit rests, at long last,
Within the sacred past.
After Varos' death, his younger brother, Igos, became the king, for Varos had no male heirs. Igos was a very different king. He openly rejected the three Ideas on which Ikana was founded, had grand visions of conquest and grandeur, and had a sharp, cunning wit that made one watch themselves in his presence for fear of being verbally assaulted.
Igos' ideas were the death of Ikana, and I'd wager the death of Varos as well.
Nevertheless - for Varos, if for no one else, I continued my work and service to the Royal Family of Ikana. Unfortunately, Sharp and I had a bitter falling out not long after Varos' death. We each took to his death differently - I succumbed to a deep sorrow, whereas Sharp was filled with anger and bitterness to match. I warned him that his emotions were going to end us both, especially with Igos as king, but he did not relent. He left the castle in a fury one day, and I didn't speak to him again.
With Varos and Sharp both gone, I buried myself in my work to prevent the sorrow from overtaking me. Fortunately, Igos helped with this by putting me to work very soon after Sharp's departure. Igos had a grand vision - a tower that would reach the heavens, in defiance of the gods themselves. "Men," he said, "are the true gods." He tasked me with writing a melody to immortalize the conception of this idea. Silly though it may sound, Igos cared about documenting history, about creating monuments to his own vanity. The day construction on the Tower began, I played this song for Igos:
A tower of stone
At the gods' front door.
Into the unknown,
into forgotten lore.
For grand Ikana,
For immortal man,
ever shall
the Tower stand.
His approval was not as important nor as validating as Varos' approval. He gave it just as willingly, but I knew it was because it bolstered his own ego, not because of any particular musical aptitude on my own part. The Tower was his child. He would nurture it in any way he could, and immortalize himself along the way.
So did Ikana's troubles begin. As the Tower grew tall, anomalies began to surface within the Castle. The sick began to walk freely again, and within a year, there were no sick, period. All were well, and filled with renewed vigor and livelihood. New life was breathed into Ikana - unnatural life. Something was rotten in the kingdom of Ikana, and I knew precisely what it was. The Stone Tower of Igos continued to rise to the heavens and Ikana became stranger by the day. Years passed as the construction of the Tower continued. Ikana became a land where nobody was sick, where nobody died. And as the world changed, I remained the same - forsaken by the only ones who meant anything to me.
Taro
Ikana was blind, and its people even more so. The pall cast upon the land during the construction of that wretched Tower was palpable. Though we may have been alive and more vigorous, our lives were far worse. King Igos had delegated the building of the tower to us citizens, and while the increased energy the mysterious power brought us sped along the process, it was grueling work that offered no reward but for Igos' vanity.
I often escaped the toils of working on the Tower and climbed down the Great Stair to the ground below the cliff on which Ikana rested. There was a river at the bottom of the cliff. The sounds of the flowing water were very soothing, and I would wade up and down it often. One day, I went far down on an end I had never been to before. There, I found that the water entered a cave inside the cliff face. Inside was a dark, abyssal grotto. Water dripped from the rocks overhead. This area was completely untouched by Ikans, past or present.
And yet, as I stood inside there, I heard them. I heard generations past of Ikans, parents and children, whispering profusely. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but whatever they were saying they said with conviction. There was a sense of finality to their voices - almost commanding, even. They grew louder, more demanding, deafening, controlling. Their voices overpowered all other senses, I could smell them, taste them, see them, feel them, I was going to scream I couldn't focus I couldn't think I could only stand and be torn apart by the sound - and then it stopped.
I slowly got back to the my feet - I didn't remember falling to my knees - and was hit with sudden understanding. I knew then what I had to do, what was going to be necessary. A few moments ago I would have thought the idea monstrous, but I was different now. I wanted it very much to happen, and I knew it would come to that, and I was thrilled, filled with fantastic terrors I'd never felt before.
I left the grotto, knowing I would be coming back, and returned back up the Great Stair to Ikana proper. What I saw was terrifying. The Stone Tower had been completed after so many long years, and King Igos was standing before it, announcing the building of the Stone Tower Temple at the apex of the tower. But that wasn't the most terrifying thing. The River Shrine at the top of the canyon was no longer flowing. Grass had stopped growing. Everything looked dead, except the crowd gathered before Igos. The air was dry. I was struck with a sudden thirst, a need for water, but there was nothing nearby - not even so much as moisture in the air. I took one look at the Tower, and knew that this Thirst was here to stay, and would last a long, long time.
It was not long before Ikana became a desolate wasteland, void of most all life. The once thriving land had died while its people could not. The most we could do was continue to build the Stone Tower Temple - at least, that is what they thought. In secret, I began to approach like-minded individuals regarding what needed to be done to save Ikana. The first of many was Geron, one of my only remaining friends.
"You're just superstitious," Geron would always say, "the gods are just myths. Men are the true gods." Had the Tower made them so arrogant that they could forget their history? I knew that this, at least, was not the Tower's fault. No, that fault belonged to another.
"Geron, surely you must see the folly here. Igos has no idea how to lead our people. That damned Tower has brought torment down upon this land. Do you not remember the green fields we used to walk?"
Geron paused for a moment. "I do remember them, Taro, but that was a lifetime ago. Do you wish to be dead right now? The Tower has allowed us to live, in defiance of our so-called 'makers'."
"This is not living. We are walking corpses. When is the last time we ever felt quenched? It's been a lifetime at least. I'm tired of being parched, Geron." I looked directly into his eyes. "You know what I mean to do."
"I do, and it's equally folly. Just accept this as the way things are, Taro."
"I can't do that. You know I can't."
Geron sighed. "Yes, I do. And I suppose I will support you, Taro. I know you're right. I just wish you weren't."
He was with me. The others would come in time. Over the course of the next ten years, I had gathered around 500 men devoted to my cause. I convened a meeting within the grotto I had discovered earlier, which I had taken to calling Bloodthirst Grotto. Why?
"Gentlemen. You know why we are here. For too long have we been living when we should be dying. For too long have we toiled away on Igos' temple, that monument to his own vanity and in strictest defiance of the gods. We have only one option."
All eyes in the room stared straight up at me, unblinking. The silence was audible.
"We have to kill Igos du Ikana."
The silence thundered. Nobody said anything. Nobody had to. The silence was agreement. That was to be the way of the Garo.
Keeta
My loyalty was always to the Ikana Royal Family, and never did I walk the path of righteousness so fervently than under Igos du Ikana, the Great King. I was there on the ground floor of the Stone Tower, and for the decades that followed I built it unwaveringly. When the Tower was completed, I once again led the charge on building the Temple that would adorn its apex.
But I did not remain on the building team. One glorious day, I was called into the Great Castle of Ikana to meet with King Igos himself, by personal request. I was overjoyed that I was summoned by my King, and I ran to the Castle immediately. There, the King thanked me for my years of loyal service and told me something that he had not told anybody else at the time.
"There is a force of opposition gathering in Ikana, Keeta."
This was not the first I'd heard of it. One night, a man crouched and wearing a long flowing robe appeared by my bedside. He told a tale of deception, of lies, of irreverence toward the gods, and said that it was because of King Igos that we were suffering through the Thirst. I leapt up and attempted to grab the man, but he vanished quickly. The treasonous creature had not returned.
"They are foolish, Your Majesty."
"Yes, that they are." He paused for a long time, studying me. "Keeta, I would like to congratulate you. In an effort to quash this rebellion, I am promoting you to the position of Captain of my new army."
I was stunned. Ikana had not had an army in centuries, since the seizure of the canyon from the Goron. To be honored as the Captain of a brand new Ikan Army was nothing less than my wildest fantasy, and it was being fulfilled because of my dedicated service. I thanked the king profusely, and was dismissed shortly after to address my new troops.
I arrived outside the Castle to find a massive battalion awaiting me - some 10,000 men strong. It was an astonishing number given how many still were positioned on the Temple construction crew. I did not question it, however. I merely followed orders - orders that I was now taking directly from the King. I was only tasked with training the forces at that moment, but it was not long before that training was put to the test.
A week later, at the sacred River Shrine, a loud explosion was heard. I sent a detachment of troops to investigate immediately, and only one returned to report: the rebellious men were attacking the shrine. With the full force of the Ikan Army, I set out at once and launched a counterattack. They were far outnumbered, and yet they laid waste to my forces. The casualties on our side were immense, with only a middling amount of their soldiers succumbing to their wounds. They were all cloaked, with their faces hidden behind shadows, their eyes glowing green.
From within the shrine, a second explosion was heard, and suddenly water came gushing forth from the opening in the rock wall. It did not last, however: as soon as the water reached us, it turned to steam. We could not drink the water, nor could we touch it - there was only steam. Unfortunately, it cloaked the attackers even further, and gave them yet another advantage. I found one standing apart from the rest, and dressed slightly differently. Recognizing him as the one that had visited me those years ago, I began to attack him - he was surely in a position of power, if not the leader. He dodged all of my blows - my claymore was no match for him. He drew twin blades of thin steel and began to launch a counterattack. His blade caught my knee and sent me falling to the ground.
He placed a blade at my throat and spoke to me in a harsh, gravelly voice that I recognized as the same one those years ago: "You could have joined us, but instead you joined him. I should kill you right here." I spat at him, and he sliced a gash in my other leg. "And now you mock me. Well. One day soon you shall come to fear us." Leaning forward, the masked warrior sheathed his blades within his cloak. "You will fear the Garo, or you will suffer, and you will die, Keeta." With those words, he leapt away. I slowly got to my feet and saw the result of the River Shrine Battle: half of my men dead, with few of the attackers slain. A crushing defeat. The Garo were indeed a force to be reckoned with.
Over the next five years, construction on the Temple continued - bizarrely, given the size of the project it should have finished; I was not on the team, however, so I could not say why it was taking so long - and the battles with the Garo grew increasingly frequent. Their leader was revealed to be a man called Taro. He was the one who had spoken to me twice now. The rest appeared to have no unique voice, speaking in the same gravelly voice in which Taro spoke. They were many, and yet one, and that made them a serious threat. We managed to combat them to a great degree and push them out of Ikana proper, but they had a base somewhere at the base of the Great Stair, and were able to continuously launch assaults.
Word reached my ears of assassination attempts. I did not fear the Garo - my time would come when it did.
Taro
Our cause was just. Our cause was righteous. Our cause was worth dying for. Our cause was something to fight for.
What had Igos' forces to fight for? They clung desperately to failing ideology, bowed a knee to gradually deteriorating leadership. With every man they lost, our resolve grew. The wretched Tower, and the Temple being erected at its apex, would fall to our blades.
Our victory lie in our enemies' fear. Few of them had ever seen our full strength - less than a quarter of those originally involved in the River Shrine Massacre remained - so they relied entirely upon our now legendary reputation. Our numbers were larger in their minds than in reality. It made them weak. Fearful soldiers are dead soldiers.
To perpetuate this mystery, this guise of shadow over our ranks, I created the Law of the Garo. My men are impeccably trained and rarely fall in battle - but they die like all other men. When a Garo is mortally wounded, they are to die - and leave no corpse. By whatever means they choose, their bodies shall not be recovered on the field of battle. It will always be a barren field littered with the corpses of deluded Ikans. Not a single Garo will lie defeated.
Fear is power. But fear among the soldiers is not power enough. It must be spread to the populace, the masses whom follow Igos' every word, deluded as they are. Two men must die in order to spread our pall over Ikana. Two men who capture the hearts and souls of the public.
Flat
I was begging for death.
Igos was unfit to rule, an abomination of a king and a desecration of the Ikana line. The days had grown long with toil as the people trudged to build his godforsaken Temple. My music had lost its power, my own soul void of its former passion.
And yet, because of the Tower, I could not die. No man in Ikana would raise a blade against me for fear of Igos' wrath, and I could not die of my own accord. I was trapped in life, wanting to die but being unable to do it. So miserable an existence is scarcely imaginable.
That fateful day, as I walked aimlessly in the plaza, searching for purpose, my prayers were answered. A silent assassin crept up behind me, and with a quick thrust of his blade, granted my dying wish. With my last breath, I whispered the words, "Thank you." The white void opened before me, and a heavenly chorus began to sound. I knew that sound... it was the sound of my music, in perfect harmony.
Oh the torment bred in the race,
the grinding scream of death...
Keeta
I knew my time had come.
My men had been all but eliminated. I was left with some scant two dozen soldiers, all brave to the highest and loyal to the end, but against the unknown and unmatched might of the Garo, we stood no chance. I had failed my king. Such shame was not something I wanted to live with. In those moments, I begged for death. It was this that made me aware that my time had come.
It came softly at the sunrise. I sat at the top of the Great Stair as the sun crept over the canyon edge behind me, bathing Ikana in golden rays. It was a beautiful sight for which one could not help but feel pride. I heard him appear behind me in virtual silence. I didn't need to see or hear him to know who it was.
"I don't fear you."
The assassin sat silent for a moment. "I know."
"Why didn't you kill me all those days ago? I was at your mercy, and you spared me."
"Because I wanted you to know why I was killing you." He paused. "Do you feel it? Do you feel the dry air, Keeta? The desiccated earth cries out in anguish. We haven't been quenched in far too long."
Silence. I did not respond.
"I don't need you to tell me that you want to die. I can smell it in the air. You want to die because you failed your king. But, Keeta, that is a lie." He paused. "And you know it."
The assassin began slowly moving forward. I didn't turn to face him.
"Your king failed you, Keeta. That's why I didn't kill you when I could have those many days ago. Because now you know why you must die, and now you know why it is I am going to do what I have planned." I still did not respond.
"You must die so that Igos can die. I am sorry it came to this, Keeta. You would have made a valuable ally."
A cold shaft of steel plunged through my chest, its chill spreading throughout my body until I felt frozen solid. The world in front of me faded to white, and all sound ceased.
End of -1-
(Credit to Aeschylus, Poe for poetic inspiration)