Chapter 6: Ganon
Darkness seemed to follow him with each step, and he was terrible to behold. The ornaments, trinkets and talismans that decorated his armor clattered together as he walked, yet were nearly inaudible against the screams. The leather that rested against his skin was tanned and stained with blood, both Hylian and animal, and had been passed down from his father and his father before him.
His skin was gray and wrinkled from over-exposure to a relentless sun. His nails were blacker than pitch and his hair was a crimson red. His features were stone-like, drawn out and severe, and his nose stood out as his most pronounced feature. He was tall and thick in his musculature, towering over all the men before him. Numerous scars from battles fought years before decorated his entire body, small trophies of his many victories.
The eyes of Ganondorf Dragmire were a sickly yellow, dimmed and dark and without any brightness. It was those eyes that caught others with such fear and made them fail when raising their sword and shield against him. His were the eyes of death.
“Look at their pride burn,” he said with a smile, viewing the war that stretched out before him, “see how empty their boasts were. Sad puppets to the gods.” His voice was like an immense hammer dragging hard against a heavy stone.
Bodies of soldiers littered the streets, and his fires preceded him as though leading his way. To his right walked Nabooru, a Gerudo assassin and his most trusted soldier. She was thin, but fast and lethal. For a Gerudo woman she was actually quite beautiful, and unlike the others her skin was tanned a golden brown and her hair was a lighter red with flashes of orange and yellow. In either hand she wielded two knives she had crafted herself. No one yet had defeated her in battle.
“See that those who do not fight are brought safely out of the city,” he said casually to a Gerudo soldier who stood to his left. “Tie their hands, even the children. When I am king of this place I will need more than just Gerudo subjects.”
The Gerudo soldier, at hearing these words, bowed and left his side to ensure the order was followed. Ganon, Nabooru and the other soldiers that followed them, continued onward toward the castle.
The clothing of the Gerudo wasn’t like the Hylians. They war thin, light materials that could easily adapt to the hot or cold climates of the desert. Unlike the Hylians who wore heavier, simpler clothes, the Gerudo’s dress and robes flowed with the wind and bore many symbols and markings. They were truly people of the sand.
“They will always bear a grudge against you,” Nabooru said quietly. She had a thick Gerudo accent, unlike Ganon, and her voice was thin and lighter. “We’d be better without them.”
Ganon nodded, flashing a smirk as his eyes stayed focused on the castle ahead. “Yet the Hylians have secrets we still do not know, and to kill them all would let their secrets die with them. I have learned that it is much more difficult to loot knowledge from a dead man than to simply request the answer from the living.”
Nabooru laughed at this. “Yes, and you will make sure they’re dead when you have the answers either way.”
“Eventually, but not now. They’ve lived long enough in their ivory tower, it is time they lived under oppression, under the unrelenting heat of worthless toil,” he said coldly, envy and cruelty flashing in his eyes. “Now they’ll live under me, under my power.”
Ahead and all around, Hylian soldiers attempted to make their way toward the Gerudo King. Yet his soldiers were numerous and fast, and it wasn’t long before they met their demise at the end of a Gerudo weapon.
