Chapter Five

The Shadowed One — master of the Dark Hunters, mortal enemy of the Makuta, thief, assassin, and conqueror — was bored. Since he and his people had been dispatched to occupy the island of Xia by the Order of Mata Nui, there had been precious little to do. The island had been pacified in a matter of hours. Except for the occasional two or three Dark Hunters tapped by the Order for a mission, the bulk of their forces had yet to act. The Shadowed One did not like feeling penned in on this island, or ignored. That was why this day found him prowling the factories of Xia seeking amusement. Despite his pressure to get all manufacturing centers working again, many of the buildings were still badly damaged by the battle between the Tahtorak and the Kanohi Dragon. It was while walking through one such building that he came upon a Vortixx frantically clearing away rubble.

“What are you doing here?” asked the Shadowed One.

The Vortixx gasped, surprised. When he saw who was addressing him, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. The Vortixx, it seemed, had a long history of knowing when and to whom to submit.

“Nothing, Great Lord,” said the Vortixx, “just… cleaning up… so all factories can be working again, as you ordered.”

The Shadowed One said nothing. He knew what a lie sounded like. He had told enough of them himself. After several moments, he said, “Then I will help you.”

“No!” the Vortixx cried out, “That’s… that’s not necessary. This is work for a laborer, not a ruler like yourself.”

Power flashed out from the Shadowed One’s staff. A band of crystalline protodermis appeared around the Vortixx’s mouth, gagging him.

“I said, ‘I will help you,’” repeated the Shadowed One.

Striding over to the heap of rubble, the Shadowed One began to dig, never taking his eye off the Vortixx. The deeper he got, the more visibly upset the Xian native seemed to be.

What, he wondered, was waiting at the bottom of this hole?

He soon found out. Several feet down, he came upon a protosteel box. Burned into the lid was the symbol of the Brotherhood of Makuta. The box was locked, but the lock was no match for the now very curious Dark Hunter. He opened it carefully — after all, this might be some clever trap — but when he saw what the box contained, his eyes widened.

“Oh, my, my,” said the Shadowed One, as he gazed on something that soon might make him master of the world.

Vezon, it could truly be said, had a unique perspective on life. Perhaps it was the fact that he had only been truly alive for a matter of weeks. Perhaps it was his time spent wearing the Mask of Life. Or perhaps it was just the fact that he was hopelessly insane. But the perspective he had today, he had to admit, was a new one: upside-down.

The Makuta he had encountered in the fortress of Destral, who identified himself with a laugh as Tridax, had not entirely believed Vezon’s story about cross and double-cross. In fact, he decided some follow-up questions were in order, the kind delivered while your guest is hanging from the ceiling by his ankles.

“I have checked our teleportation technology,” Tridax said. “There is no sign of sabotage. You are a liar.”

“Well, no one ever said Makuta were observant,” said Vezon. “How can you be so sure? Suppose I sabotaged it myself using my incredible powers of the mind.”

“You have no powers,” said the Makuta, picking up a wickedly sharp blade. “You have no mind. You are about to have no head.”

“You’re right! You’re right!” babbled Vezon. “There is no army, there is no navy, I simply wanted the pleasure of your company. Well, pleasure might be too strong a word. Did I tell you I once wore the Mask of Life? One stray thought back then, and you wouldn’t even have left ashes. I do miss those days. Anyway, take pride in being correct. There’s no threat to Destral at all.”

The walls of the fortress suddenly shook violently from an incredible impact.

“Except that one.” Vezon added helpfully.

Rock dust fell from the ceiling, masks and weapons clattered to the floor, and even the anchors of Vezon’s chains came loose. A second blast tore a hole in the wall and sent mangled Rahkshi flying into the chamber. This time, the anchors came loose all the way, and Vezon fell to the stone floor.

Makuta Tridax was paying no attention. His orders were clear: maintain Destral in its current location unless attacked. In the event of a serious threat from Toa or Dark Hunters, teleport the island off the shores of Metru Nui and seize that city. He stalked off to carry out those commands. Vezon followed behind, unnoticed.

That’s right, thought the deranged ex-prisoner. Lead me to your secrets. Ah, this plan is so cunning it might almost be one of mine. And perhaps it will be before I’m done.

Far to the west…

Pridak watched a fortress burn and smiled at the sight. He had been fortunate since his release from the Pit. His captors had provided him with ships and the resources with which to raise an army. From the worst holes in the universe, he had found ex-Dark Hunters, exiled Vortixx, even a Skakdi or two for his crews. Before Kalmah had even devised a battle plan, Pridak had sounded off without him on a voyage of conquest. It felt good. Good to sack and burn and destroy again. Good to feel the warm glow of the lightstones on his body, even if his water-filled helmet kept him from smelling the wonderful smoke and the stench of battle. He was back, and back to stay.

His men had routed the forces of the Makuta who occupied this place, but had found no actual Brotherhood member. Now, as he surveyed his conquest, a few things captured his notice. The structure was not original, it had been rebuilt on the site of an earlier strong point. The lower levels were still incomplete, and it was while exploring them that he found a strange room. Deep below the basement was a room of rubble.

The walls had been smashed, leaving only packed earth behind, and the remnants of those walls were littered around the floor. Intrigued, he picked one of the pieces up, only to find there was an inscription on it. The symbols made no sense to him, and he was about to throw it away, when he noticed that another piece also had such an inscription. In fact, all the pieces did.

There was some sort of message here, or there had been, he realized. Someone had tried to destroy it by shattering the walls, but the message was still here for someone who had the discipline to decipher it. And if someone had thought whatever information it contained worthy of destruction, it must be quite interesting indeed.

With the infinite patience of a born hunter, Pridak began to assemble the stones.