Febuwhump 2025 - As the Games go 'Round
Chapter 3: Paying Anything to Roll the Dice, Just One More Time
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Legend examined the dice, analyzing what they had left to work with. One icon each for boiling water, the spear, the knife, and the electricity, two people holding their throats and two fires. Plus the two remaining freedom faces.
The odds of freedom had dropped to one in five.
But Hyrule hadn’t given up on Twilight when the odds were stacked against him. Legend refused to give up now.
Ignoring the ache in his side and knee, he tossed the dice onto the table. Dizzying relief tore through him when Tzikizi’s face turned up next to the person holding their throat. The arrow on the face pointed up.
“GRAB THE MASTER.”
Legend staggered to one side as an Armos approached Tzikizi, raised one metallic hand, and placed it on the other man's throat. Gears clattered, curling the fingers one by one until they wrapped clear around; some hidden mechanism engaged, and the fist squeezed slowly until Tzikizi’s lips were blue from lack of oxygen.
The whole time, Tzikizi maintained a serene smile.
Legend exchanged a horrified glance with Hyrule as the Armos finally let go, and, rather than cough or hack or gasp for air, Tzikizi merely chuckled brokenly.
“My turn,” he rasped, picking up the dice and rolling them one at a time.
Legend's face. Bubbling water and an arrow pointing up.
Oh no.
“GRAB THE PINK ONE.”
Legend struggled fruitlessly against the immense strength of the Armos that dragged him to the cauldron of rapidly boiling water. He didn’t mind Wild's hot springs – relished them, even – but this would be nothing like those. This would burn, would scar, please not my hands I can’t live without those Oh Goddesses PLEASE–
He almost didn’t feel it when the Armos submerged his left elbow into the cauldron. But then the water soaked through the heavy fabric of his green undertunic, and scalding agony pierced his forearm and shoulder, radiating across his chest. He gritted his teeth to stifle the yell that erupted from his throat – no way was he gonna give this creep that satisfaction.
Legend clenched his eyes against the pain as the guard released his arm, gingerly tucking it close to his body. Already, the tender skin was swelling under his sleeve; he wanted more than anything to rip it off and run his elbow under cool water, but he couldn’t.
Not until he freed Hyrule.
Legend sucked in a shuddering breath then let it out in a soft whoosh between his teeth, fighting to bring his expression back under control. Din's Flames, that hurts!
I can take it. I can, for Hyrule.
Legend steeled himself, put on his brave, unaffected mask, then stalked back to the dice on the table. He wished he had Wolfie's fangs so he could tear the cold, satisfied smile from Tzikizi's face.
Snatching up the dice with his right hand, he pinned the twenty-sided die between his pinky and the heel of his palm, allowing the smaller die to rattle in the cage made by the other four fingers. He opened the cage, flinching when the die turned up with his face again.
At least it’s not Hyrule.
He let the other die drop. His stomach dropped with it.
The fire icon. He remembered the branding iron in the fire on the stage. The branding iron that would very shortly be applied somewhere on his already-abused upper body.
“GRAB THE PINK ONE.”
It’s for Hyrule, it’s for Hyrule, it’s for Hyrule…
Tzikizi made a gesture Legend couldn’t decipher as one of the automatons dragged him to center stage. From the corner of his eye, he watched Hyrule try to stand, concern and anger painted across his face, only to be pushed back down by another Armos.
Four more mechanical guards converged on Legend when he reached center stage – courage, courage, courage! – tripping him and pinning him to the ground once again. They stretched his arms above his head and he groaned, panting as his injuries were jostled.
Legend looked around as best he could through the forest of arms and legs surrounding him, searching for the fifth Armos. It appeared above the shoulders of the other guards, brandishing an enchanted dagger and the glowing firebrand. He whimpered as it settled near his broken ribs and swiftly cut a slit in the side of his tunic and underclothes.
Slow as a Gibdo, the branding iron came closer to his side. His panting turned to hyperventilating the nearer it got. A keening whine sounded in his ears…it took far too long to realize he was making the sound.
Courage, he chanted mentally, courage! It’s for Hyrule, I’m sorry Rulie, I –
“gggrAAAAAGGGHHH!!”
Blistering iron met delicate flesh. Broken ribs shifted beneath the pressure, and Legend lost his battle with silence. Tears scorched down his cheeks as his side blazed beneath the brand; blisters formed and popped and formed again.
The Armos released his arms and legs and took a step back, but Legend couldn’t move; waves of agony fought for control of his consciousness. Distantly, he heard muffled shouting, and, even further than that, the dreaded rattle of dice as Tzikizi took his turn again.
Have to get up, have to see! Be strong, it’s just pain, I must endure, gotta save Rulie–
"GRAB THE PINK ONE.”
Legend drew in a shuddering breath, still on the floor. Not Rulie, I can handle it. But what was it? The spear, the lightning, the fire…?
The guard with the knife knelt next to Legend’s abused side once again. Grabbing his right hand, it turned his arm until the forearm faced up.
No, nonono not the knife not THAT scar, please!
Swift and efficient, the Armos dragged the enchanted blade down his forearm, cutting though cloth and muscle like LonLon butter. Immediately, hot blood pooled and dripped down his suddenly bare arm. Legend’s left hand scrabbled at the boards below; he fought the scream and the flashback of the original injury from a brainwashed knight with equal ferocity.
Despite the pain in his ribs, and arm, and elbow, Legend curled into himself, hiding the tears, hiding from the agony, hiding from the world. “One minute,” he mumbled brokenly to himself, “I just need one minute… Rulie…’m so weak, ‘m sorry…”
“Tick-tock, Hero of Legend!” Tzikizi sang gleefully, cruelly. “If you don’t take your turn, you forfeit the game and your freedom!”
Legend groaned.
Gritted his teeth.
Din's fire burned in his soul. Nayru's wisdom raced through his mind and body. Farore's wind plucked up his fading courage.
By the Oracles, the Goddesses, and the land itself, this man will not win!
Somehow, Legend staggered to his feet. Blood dripped like tears down his arm as he lurched past Hyrule to the waiting dice. With monumental effort, he grabbed the dice, shook them, and dropped them.
Legend’s heart pounded in his chest, echoed by the throbbing in his arms.
Beat. Hyrule's face.
Beat. Forked lightning, pointing down.
Beat. “GRAB THE CURLY ONE.”
Beat. Legend inhaled, intending to take the shock, but the breath caught in his lungs; he coughed, tasting blood.
Beat. Hyrule yelled into his gag; Legend failed.
Beat. He turned slightly, watching his brother favor his left foot.
Beat. Dice rattled and thudded behind him.
Beat beat beat “GRAB THE CURLY ONE.”
The pounding dizziness behind his eyes and ringing in his ears nearly obscured the sight of the fire on the die, the sound of Hyrule's own branding. BEAT BEAT BEAT Failed, failed, failed.
But the bitter scent of burning flesh, the salty tang of blood and tears, cut through the haze. Legend blinked, regaining control over his body. Pain rushed through like a tidal wave, but Legend braced himself against it.
Not done yet.
Slowly, he picked up the dice. Just a bit more. Please, the chains. We can’t take much more of this.
Rattle. Drop. Hyrule. Please…
Clatter. Drop. Spear. No!
“GRAB THE CURLY ONE.”
“No.” Legend forced his voice out of hiding. “Take me.”
Tzikizi cackled, eyes and cloak glittering maliciously in the room's lights. “If death is your wish!” he repeated before waving an acquiescing hand.
“GRAB THE PINK ONE.”
Legend hissed and coughed weakly as the guards grabbed his upper arms, jostling his wounds. The journey to center stage happened in a series of snapshots to Legend's pain-addled mind.
Pain and concern on Hyrule's face. Bright light on a gleaming spear tip. Cold air on his suddenly-bare left foot. At least I won’t have to mend my boots.
The snapshots broke with the thought, continuity reemerging. Hysterical laughter burst from his throat, all too quickly turning to agonized howling when the Armos slammed the spearhead directly through the arch of his foot. One eternal moment of teeth-grinding, nerve-splitting, tortuous pain, two, then the Armos removed the spear as abruptly as it had entered.
Legend sagged in the Armos' hold, silent tears carving rivulets down his cheeks. His breath rattled in his chest, echoed by Tzikizi gathering the dice.
The distance to the table might as well have been miles, with only one truly functioning limb. Legend would never make it back in time to see what Tzikizi rolled.
Fortunately, the Armos continued their narration of the results. “GRAB THE MASTER.”
Unfortunately, they dropped him for their new objective: retrieving Tzikizi and plunging his head into the basin of water.
Legend groaned and turned to view the weapons rack, a much closer objective than the dice table. If he could just…make it over there…maybe he could grab something to use as a crutch.
Inch by excruciating inch, he crawled to the rack and dragged himself up its side. His breath grated in his lungs and his injuries throbbed, but a spurt of vindictive satisfaction filled him when his hand landed on the shaft of the spear – its head still glistening with his blood – and found it the perfect height.
Wrapping his left arm around the spear – ignoring the way the burns ground and ached under his sleeve – Legend limped to the dice, alternating weight on his untouched right leg and the crutch on his left. He arrived at the table just as the Armos lifted Tzikizi’s head from the water.
The man shook the water from his face and looked up. A strange, shocked pleasure flashed across his face when he saw Legend standing balefully by the dice. “Still alive, are you?” His voice creaked, but soon gained strength. “Well, the Hero's Spirit is quite tenacious, I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Tzikizi ambled to the table, straightening his drooping, dripping cloak. “We are quite far into this game, aren’t we?” he mused, picking up the dice and offering them to Legend. “Why, if my calculations are correct…”
Wearily, Legend took the dice, heart sinking in abject dread as he realized what Tzikizi was alluding to. “There’s only two freedom tiles left,” he whispered.
Tzikizi grinned, all teeth and predatory glee. “If my name is rolled, one of you stays.”
Cold sweat and hot panic coursed through Legend’s body. “No…”
“Roll the larger die first this time, dear Hero.”
With trembling fingers, Legend obeyed. But that die didn’t matter. Time crawled to a stop when the second die hit the table, in direct contrast to his rabbiting heart.
Tzikizi’s face stared up at him.
"Ahhh,” Tzikizi sighed, affecting disappointment. “I, of course, am already free, so..." he flicked his fingers and the chains on the die faded away.
Horror clutched at Legend's chest as the blood rushed from his face. "Shouldn’t your spell have known that?!" he demanded.
"It's not a perfect science, dear boy," Tzikizi’s lips said, but the smile in his eyes told a different story. He'd planned this from the start.
“Now,” Tzikizi purred, palming the dice. “Which lucky Hero stays with me, hmm?”
Putrid fear roiled in Legend’s stomach, deeper than any courageous spirit could reach. Coward, his inner voice condemned, as he turned away from the table to lock eyes with Hyrule; like a child, the stubborn hope that if he couldn’t see it, it wouldn’t exist pulsed in the back of his head.
The clattering dice stopped. Silence reigned.
Then, like a death knell, like a cracked tile collapsing beneath his feet, the automata spoke: “TAKE THE CURLY ONE.”
Take, not grab. Hyrule's golden eyes widened at the same time as his own did, and Legend spun back to the table, faster than he should have in his condition.
His own face smirked up at him from the die, sitting innocently next to the last set of broken chains.
No, no, no! He whirled back around in time to watch one of the automata haul Hyrule to his feet. Tears fell from his brother's scared, pleading eyes, staining his gag.
NO! Legend ducked under the grasping arms of another automaton, spinning on his good heel to face Tzikizi. “Wait!” he shouted breathlessly. “I’ll pay anything to roll those dice until everyone's free!”
Tzikizi held up a hand, and the scrape and pull of the automaton dragging his brother away ceased. All Legend could hear was the desperate pounding of his heart and Hyrule’s plaintive sniffles.
“Anything, you say?”
Legend gulped, but nodded.
Tzikizi’s smile gleamed in the bright stage lights. “Then it’s a rematch!” he exclaimed, snatching up the dice. Holding them close to his chest, he whispered a string of words. The dice flashed briefly inside his fists, then he extended them out to Legend.
“Your turn,” he trilled, “and since you’ve performed so wonderfully I haven’t added any new challenges to the die! You’re welcome!” He bowed cheekily.
Legend shuddered, but took the dice. Weakness pulled at every bit of his body. Truly, he needed a potion – maybe even a fairy at this point – and sleep.
But he’d promised Time they’d stay safe, and sworn to himself that he wouldn’t leave anyone behind. This was his only chance.
Ignoring the throbbing ache in his bones, he cast the smaller die. Hyrule's face smiled up at him; he allowed himself a brief flicker of hope that the game could end right now, especially as the second die flew and tumbled. Five freedom chances, odds are good!
A hinox stomped the hope from his chest when the die landed on the one face surrounded by freedom tiles – the person holding their throat, with the arrow pointing down.
Before the Armos could claim their victim, Legend spoke up. “Take me.”
Tzikizi chortled, eyes gleaming and collar flashing, and waved a languid hand.
“GRAB THE PINK ONE.”
Legend let them drag him to the water basin, resigned to his fate. He couldn’t even drudge up the emotion to be concerned by the golden horror glowing fiercely from Hyrule's eyes.
The Armos pulled Legend to a halt. One grabbed at his hat and the hair beneath it, then began to push his head toward the glassy water. Legend took as deep a breath as he could with his broken ribs, shoved the flare of pain from the brand away, and closed his eyes as the water embraced his face and head.
It was calm, here. Peaceful. Even his sprinting heart slowed with the silence the water provided.
Resignation drifted toward apathy. He opened his eyes, watching with detached curiosity as each beat of his heart spread blackness closer and closer to his central vision. Bubbles shimmered gold and white in the bright stage lights.
Gold. Like Rulie's eyes!
Legend's will to fight returned full force; he pulled back against the mechanical hands that held him down, suddenly aware of how badly his chest and head ached for air. They let him up and he gasped, coughing and retching painfully as oxygen returned to his system.
Through the water and blood rushing past his ears, Legend heard an aggrieved sigh. “I was certain that would have done you in,” Tzikizi complained.
Legend carefully shook the water from his face, then leveled a spiteful glare at the man. “Ganon tried three times and couldn’t do it,” he choked out. “What makes you think you can?”
“Ganon wasn’t using your heroic nature against you,” Tzikizi muttered as he plucked the dice from the table. “Bring him back!” he ordered his guards. “I want him to see this.”
Legend slumped in the Armos-guard’s grasp, blood loss and pain taking their toll faster every minute. It took every ounce of strength and focus he could muster to stay standing when the guard deposited him at the table.
The dice swam in his vision as they tumbled across the table. When they finally stopped, Legend forced himself to look closely. A blade of relief struck through his heart when he saw Tzikizi’s face on the die.
“GRAB THE MASTER.”
Legend closed his eyes, gathering his strength as the clank of the guards and the splash and hiss of boiling water being poured over bare flesh sounded throughout the room. By the time Tzikizi made it back to the table, Legend could breath a bit easier, and his vision wasn’t as wobbly.
He palmed the dice in his left hand. This is it. Like a dungeon door locking behind him, Legend knew with certainty that this would be the last roll. He lacked the strength for any more.
Please, please please please…
One die dropped. No! Rulie…
The second followed.
Legend blinked stupidly down at the die, unsure if his mind was playing tricks on him.
“GRAB THE CURLY ONE. GRAB THE PINK ONE.”
I did it? He blinked again. Not a trick – next to Hyrule’s smiling face, broken chains gleamed in the bright stage lights.
Cold, unfeeling hands grabbed Legend’s arms, marching him toward the teleporter pad. He craned his neck until he spotted Hyrule, beside and just ahead of him, in the grip of his own pair of guards.
“A wonderful game, dear Hero!” Tzikizi called as the guards tossed Hyrule into the portal. “Perhaps we can play again someday!”
Blue and gold particles swirled around Legend, embracing and enfolding his beleaguered body. Gladly, he surrendered to the light, only one thought remaining in his head: I did it. They’re free!
