Chapter Eight

Gar wanted to yell for help, even though he knew it was a stupid idea. His air bubble was gone, and shouting would have just led to drowning. No one was near enough to hear and help anyway. Still, somehow it would have made him feel better if he could have let out a good yell at least once before he died.

He had fallen behind Idris. She was getting near the city, trying to avoid the venom eels that were swarming around the borders. Gar could feel the claws of the keras crabs snapping at his feet and legs.

A strong hand suddenly grabbed his upper arm. He felt himself being pulled along at high speed toward the city. Glancing up, Gar saw the familiar mask of Defilak. The Le-Matoran paused only long enough for Gar to grab Idris before resuming his rapid swim toward Mahri Nui. Venom eels who tried to get in their way were slashed aside by Defilak’s blades. Only when the three were inside one of the large air bubbles that protected the shelters did Defilak slow down.

“Happy to look-see you are still breathing,” he said.

“For now,” Gar answered. “Or haven’t you seen that monstrosity heading this way?”

“I’ve seen it,” Defilak replied. “And you all wonder why we Le-Matoran hate the water?”

Takadox watched with a mix of horror and anticipation. The monstrous venom eel was dead on course for Mahri Nui, despite the hail of air spheres fired from the city and the hundreds of vampiric sea squid that had attached themselves to its massive body. The combination was not even slowing the creature down.

It slammed into one of the lower peaks, turned, and whipped its tail at the Pillars of Salt, shearing off the top of one. Then it headed for the city again, piercing one of the Matoran air bubbles and reducing a storehouse to rubble. It banked away and swam toward the surface, then turned to make another dive.

This time, it barely missed the Matoran buildings, but the impact sent a tremor through the entirety of Mahri Rock. The swarm of venom eels that had been besieging the city fled in panic. The keras crabs were not so swift or so fortunate. As it turned away, the creature opened its huge jaws and swallowed several hundred of the crabs as they tried to get away.

Magnificent, thought Takadox. It would almost be worth losing the Mask of Life to gain control of such a beast.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, the monster lifted its head and took notice of the Barraki. Takadox met his gaze, exerting the hypnotic powers the Pit had granted him. If all went well, in a matter of moments the beast would belong to him; body, mind, and spirit.

Dekar woke up. Every part of his body hurt. He wasn’t sure what had happened or how much time had passed, or even why he was still alive.

Without moving from where he lay, he scanned his surroundings. He was still in the sea cave, the mouth of which was partially blocked by rubble. The only light came from the Kanohi mask he had brought with him with the intent of destroying it. It had also provided enough air to reinforce his bubble.

Dekar struggled to remember how he had ended up like this. He had been about to strike a blow to shatter the mask. Then there was some sort of flash of energy, and a monstrous creature, and —

It… it was defending itself, he realized. The mask knew what I was about to do, and it —

He pulled away from the Kanohi. It looked just like any other mask, but somehow the empty eye sockets seemed evil to Dekar. He could almost feel it watching him, waiting to lash out and destroy him if he should try to harm it again.

No. That’s ridiculous. Get a hold of yourself, he thought. All right, maybe it’s damaged… maybe somehow it can work even when no one’s wearing it… maybe it even has some way to protect itself. But it’s a thing — it can’t be good or evil. It’s just a thing, and it can be used — or broken — like any other thing. Can’t it?

Dekar brought his hand close to the mask, moving as hesitantly as if he were reaching into the jaws of a shredder fish. If I can just touch it — and if nothing happens — then I’ll know I’m just being crazy. I’ll know it’s just a mask like any other, maybe a little more powerful, but…

The tips of his fingers brushed the hard surface of the Kanohi. There was no second burst of energy, no new sea monsters, no sudden disaster. In some ways, to Dekar’s point of view, what happened was worse.

The mask spoke to him.

No, it didn’t talk like a Matoran did, or even form words in Dekar’s mind. Instead, Dekar saw a jumble of images that swirled as if caught in the tide. With great effort, he made them coalesce into some kind of a comprehensible whole — it was do that or go mad.

Suddenly, he understood. He was seeing history through the mask’s “eyes,” and he had knowledge that no other Matoran had ever possessed.

The Kanohi Ignika, or Mask of Life, had come into existence not very long after the first Matoran ever walked through this universe. It was to be the first of the masks of legend, and in many ways, the most important — for the Ignika was the difference between life and death for everything that existed. Molded by the Great Beings who created the universe, heated in forges fiery beyond imagining, cooled in caverns of ice, it housed power that dwarfed that of any being — even those that had created it.

In its first days, it did nothing but sit inside the armored shell that had been crafted to protect it. Although it was the Mask of Life, it knew little of what that meant or even the reason for its existence. Then one day, one of the Great Beings grew curious about the mask. He opened the shell, reached in, and laid hands upon it.

The Kanohi reacted. It sensed this being was not the one destined to make use of it — still, it was willing to share its gift. The mask flooded the Great Being with life, so much that everything around him became alive. Furniture, equipment, the stones that made up the walls and floor, even the rays of light that illuminated the chamber became living, feeling entities. Each had needs and wants and each now found voice to demand them. It seemed to the mask a wonderful gift to bestow, especially on someone who prided himself on his ability to create.

Unfortunately, it had not proven to be a blessing. The Great Being reacted with shock and horror to his new abilities. Since the power was now part of him, he could not hope to outrun it. Eventually, the others of his kind had to step in and confine him so that he would stop bringing their inanimate objects to life. There were whispers of madness. After this, the other Great Beings treated the mask with less idle curiosity and more respect.

It was a short time later that two more of the mask’s creators came to transport it elsewhere. They were careful not to touch it, using special tools to handle its armored shell. They brought it to someplace far beneath the ground and placed it on a pedestal. A guardian, Umbra, was posted, and other traps were laid for the unwary. The mask, too, used its power to create additional guardians, transforming microscopic protodites into large, savage protodax, for example.

It waited. And waited. Centuries passed, then millennia, with only the occasional intruder making an effort to claim the mask. None ever made it past the guardians. Then a team of Toa arrived, led by a Toa of Magnetism. They battled their way past the guards and the traps and reached the mask chamber. The Ignika did not fight them — it could tell they were meant to use its power. They removed it from its pedestal and brought it to another place, where it was needed.

After the mission was done, the Toa were left shaken and fearful of the Ignika. They returned it to its underground chamber and then transformed into smaller, less powerful forms. One, the former Toa leader, remained aboveground to watch over the mask, taking on the title “Turaga.”

Many, many more years passed. The mask felt the universe rocked by some great cataclysm, though it knew not what. Over time, though, it began to sense disturbing disruptions in the patterns of life above. Something was wrong with the fundamental fabric of all existence. Beings had arrived on the surface who coveted the mask’s power, while others journeyed toward its hiding place with noble intent.

Realizing the power of those who wished to seize it, the Ignika used its power to call one of their number to its chamber. The being, one called Vezon, attempted to take the mask and was cursed for his efforts. The Ignika fused itself to him, and then fused him in turn to a massive spider creature evolved by the mask’s power. A new guardian had been created, although one more evil and less sane than perhaps the Ignika would have liked.

At the same time, the Mask of Life reached out with its power to the ones who came to use it for good purposes. It selected one of them — a Matoran named Matoro — as a potential future guardian. It tested him, and he proved himself worthy. When Matoro finally reached the mask, though, it was not as a Matoran but as a Toa. He removed the mask from Vezon, prepared in his heart to take it wherever it needed to go.

Here, at last, the Ignika rebelled. The time was not yet right to make the journey. The universe was still damaged, though not beyond repair. Not wishing to harm Matoro, the mask used one of its other guardians to free itself from the Toa’s grasp. Then it flew to the surface and plunged beneath the waves, going to where it sensed the damage was greatest and hoping the Toa Inika would follow.

But something had gone very wrong. The waters were proving deadly to the mask. It had already begun to crack and crumble, energy leaking from it in the form of air. Hostile forces once more sought to possess it, and the Toa were facing great danger in their efforts to reach it. If they did not arrive in time, the Ignika might fall into evil hands, or worse, destroy itself completely in the toxic brew of the Pit.

For the first time in its 100,000-year existence, this awe-inspiring mask, this most unusual artifact of power, knew what it was to be afraid.