Entry Ten

My fellow Toa and I stood in a small chamber, waiting for the one who would lead us to our next, and supposedly most dangerous, task. In the meantime, we checked our weapons and armor for any damage and got caught up on each others’ adventures. It was a good way to hide any worries we might have.

“It was a golden crystal,” Onua was saying. “About as big as Pohatu’s head, and suspended in mid-air — don’t ask me how. We’d been told not to let it touch the ground, and it was a good thing we listened.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Heart of the Visorak, they call it,” answered Pohatu. “Ever wonder how the Makuta get the horde assembled? Put this crystal in the ground and they all come, no matter where they might be, no matter how far away. I guess our hosts don’t want the Brotherhood able to gather them quite so easily next time.”

“What about you, Lewa?” I said to the Toa of Air. “Where did Tahu send you?”

“No place,” shrugged Lewa Nuva. “Some weird voice sent me up to Mata Nui — I must have been and gone just before you arrived, Gali — to deep-dig up a sundial, of all things, and bring it to Metru Nui.”

“And do what with it?” asked Tahu, never looking up from his scorched armor. Kopaka looked even worse after their struggle to cap erupting volcanoes.

“Got me,” said Lewa. “I was told to leave it in the Archives, so that’s what I did. By the way, after quick-seeing our old island, never hire the Bohrok as decorators.”

“It’s time to go.” The words, spoken softly, came from a Matoran who stood in the doorway. “We have a journey to make and little time in which to make it.”

“A long journey where?” asked Kopaka. “I am getting a little tired of running around like a hungry stone rat with no idea why.”

The Matoran just smiled. “You are being given a great honor — to set foot on the island of Artakha. Once we are there, my master will speak with you… or not… depending on his whim. He may open his fortress for the first time in millennia and welcome you in — or he may banish you forever without a second thought.”

“Sounds like a party,” said Pohatu. “When do we leave?”

The world suddenly blurred around the Toa Nuva. When their vision cleared again, they were standing with the Matoran on a desolate beach. “Leave?” said the villager. “Why, you have already arrived. Good fortune to you, Toa… may you live to leave Artakha once more.”