Fan Fiction Friday: The Man Behind the Masks – Part 24a

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“On behalf of all humankind, I apologize for the unfortunate demise of your kin.”

Nothing beats shouldering responsibility for the actions of a slice and dice happy hero from the past. I attempted a low bow, which is difficult when floating within a dimensional stream.

Tatsumaki blew a smoke ring in my face. “Pay with life.”

I coughed savagely. Of course, the dragon wants blood, just look at the stains on his teeth. Goodness knows why Yasei wanted to extract one!  “No thank you, I have someone waiting for me and she’s far scarier than you.”

My eyebrows creased together as he sucked in air through those large nostrils. His belly swelled like a balloon. I plummeted. Looking up, the golden flames stretched out like a rippling river. The heat made my skin want to dig into the marrow of my bones. Ah, so the fairy tales did get something right after all…

“Now, now, let’s not get excited. Perhaps we can come to some sort of compromise?”

The next burst singed a few hairs on the top of my head. I frantically wet my fingers to smooth them out, the smell had a sulphuric quality that smelt of rotting eggs. Reasoning with a dragon would not be easy.

“You will die,” Tatsumaki boomed.

All I ever wanted was to make masks. A simple life of creating things that brought happiness to the wearer. I could ask myself over and over, why had I left the safety of my shop and travelled with Yasei? Why?

I clapped my hands together to form a purple orb. I’d taken to calling this pulsing substance – magi-clay. After all, I could shape the magic into any form I wished. I fashioned a long spear. It sparkled in my hand and hummed slightly. If I ever did find a weak spot, it would give the brute something to think about. Still, I hesitated. Fighting… I hate fighting. I wish someone else would do the fighting for me.

The dragon glared with bulging, bloodshot eyes. He charged; his large body moved faster than I expected. He snapped at me; a fire wave spread across the whole area burning the fog away. I watched as the hulking mass spun around to return. His deafening roar set my teeth on edge.

Ducking, diving and weaving, I took lessons from irritating flies that zip around a room to evade capture, but never quite make it out the window. Tatsumaki’s frustration grew; muscular arms swiped in vain. His movements became sluggish. Coordination failing. Gasping with fatigue.

Had Yasei and the Watarara made it out? I stretched more magi-clay until it became thin and rubbery.

“Lord Ganondorf,” the dragon cried out. “Give me more power.”

Suddenly, the two horns nestled near his bony temples grew. They pierced through the skin, leaving thin trails of green blood trickling down to his maw. The silver scales on his back stood on end and began to hiss. Cruel laughter echoed faintly from far away.

“Yes, loyal servant, take revenge on those who slaughtered your brothers. I command you, burn the Happy Mask Salesman to ashes.”

Ganondorf, you really are a troublesome fellow, aren’t you?   

My game of tag with Tatsumaki changed rather abruptly. Caught by a strong gust, I spiralled out of control for a moment. He came again with those large horns. Chasing the dream of impaled prey.

I retaliated with a purple lightning strike. The same move had killed a Wall Master in the Spirit Temple. Tatsumaki merely shook his large head in irritation. Some of the hissing silver scales grew razor sharp wings and took off.

For the love of Hyrule…

I despise flying insects. Particularly headless ones that want to kill me. As I tried to stab at the bugs, another swarm appeared ready to ambush their target. I turned too slowly. The resulting pain was like hot pokers being dragged across my chest. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts, my primal brain screamed.

In desperation, I thrust out my arms, the warp hole spat me out at the edge of the tornado’s rotating shell. A little space. A little time. I looked down at my heaving torso and winced. I’d seen shredded, charred meat on a spit that looked much the same. I… I mustn’t let them touch me again!

The only silver lining to be had was evidence of bare patches on the dragon’s arms. Frayed strands of an idea came to mind.

“How long can you keep this up, human?” Tatsumaki hauled a ghastly smile over dry, cracked lips. “I can feel how tired you are.”

“I highly doubt you have any concern for my wellbeing.”

He huffed and further scales were sent flying.

My counter barrage of black discs knocked out a few, however, they were relentless. Between fire, tornados and creepy crawlies, I pitied the poor hero that had to fight eight of these things! Which brought up a good point.

Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shouted, “I confess to being a little curious. In the legend, all the dragons were killed. So, how exactly did you survive?”

“My Lord chose to resurrect this pathetic soul,” Tatsumaki growled.

“He brought you back from the dead?”

“I will have my revenge.”

At once, I couldn’t see the brute anymore. A buzzing, silver sea of wings had hidden Tatsumaki, whose patience had finally run out. The hisses and clicks rose to a fever pitch. His great intake of breath drew debris and myself towards the swarm and I struggled to pull away. The world became an inferno. The ‘bugs’ set ablaze in blinding blue and white that you would only see in the centre of Din’s hottest flames.

I stared in disbelief. If I survived this farce, there were a few things I wanted to set straight about those campfire tales. Firstly, that a dragon’s oral hygiene is simply horrific. Second, that duelling with said horned creatures isn’t particularly heroic, but in fact rather tiresome. And finally, to never underestimate a dragon’s desire for revenge even from beyond the grave.

Featured art: Alison Patten via Canva.com

Alison Otwl continues her Fan Fiction here at Zelda Dungeon. She likes reading manga and collecting Japanese wind chimes. Her favorite Zelda game is Ocarina of Time. Check out more of her fanfiction over at: Otwl.