Chapter Three

Matau woke up facedown in a gutter. He had been unceremoniously dumped there by his rescuer, who had disappeared. He lifted his head and looked around, noting that it was the middle of the night and he was somewhere in the ruins of Ga-Metru.

“Hello?” he called. “Nokama? Whenua? Nuju? Onewa?”

No answer came from the darkness. Matau shrugged and, with some reluctance, added, “Vakama?”

When no response came, Toa Matau reached up to clear the grit from his eyes. The first sight that greeted his newly cleared vision was his own reflection in the liquid protodermis pooled by the gutter. But the face that looked back at him was not that of a Toa. It was the face of a monstrous beast.

“No!” Matau shouted. His hands shot to his face, desperately seeking evidence that what he saw was not real. But it was. He could feel the rough contours of his features where once there had been the smooth, hard metallic surface of a Kanohi mask.

“But this isn’t me,” he said softly. Then anger rose in him — anger at the way he looked, anger at Makuta for destroying his city, anger at Vakama for leading them into the trap. He swiped at the puddle, stirring its surface and distorting his reflection.

As if it could get any more distorted, he thought. When the water had calmed once more, he could see other bestial shapes approach him. The rest of the Toa had arrived.

“It’s all right, Matau,” said Nokama.

Matau looked up at her, then at the others. They were no longer Toa, they were not even Matoran or Turaga. They were beasts… monsters… things out of a Matoran scare-story.

“All right?” he snapped. “You call this all right?”

“We’re all alive,” Nokama replied. “We’ll find a way out. Together.”

“That’s what friends do,” Whenua added, his tone more gentle than Matau had ever heard it.

Matau rose and turned to Vakama, thrusting his face right up to the Toa of Ta-Metru. “I don’t hear you saying that, smelthead. What’s the matter — too busy cooking up another master plan?”

Vakama stepped back, snarling, “I’m through making plans.”

“Well, that’s the first happy-good thing I’ve heard since I became ugly,” Matau replied.

Nuju stepped between the two. “Regardless of how we look, it might be better if we use our energy to find out how and why we’ve become… whatever it is we are.”

Nokama nodded. “The sooner we do that, the sooner we can rescue the Matoran.”

Matau turned to them, unconvinced. “How are we to be saving when we’re the ones that need saving?”

No one had an answer. Then a voice with laden with age and wisdom broke the stillness, its source nearby yet unseen. “If you are wise… if you wish to be yourselves again…”

Six strange figures emerged from the shadows. Each had a face much like that of a Rahkshi and walked hunched over like a Rahi beast. The one in front was dark red, and he surveyed the Toa one by one.

“Then you will listen,” he said.

Roodaka stood in the gloom of the sundial chamber. The great timing devices had stopped dead during the dual eclipse in Metru Nui — the moment Makuta had waited for had come and gone, the moment when he would seize his destiny. But the Toa had frustrated him, defeated him, and now he lay trapped behind a sealed layer of protodermis.

The ebony viceroy of the Visorak gazed at the stone in the palm of her hand. It was rough and black, like obsidian, carved by her from the outer surface of Makuta’s prison. Even so small an effort had cost her much pain, for only a Toa could pierce the shell that surrounded the master of shadows without paying the price.

“Rest, my Makuta,” she crooned to the stone. “Sleep, and know that as you do, I draw close to waking you.”

She smiled, an expression that would have sent even the bravest Visorak running for refuge. “The Toa have returned, as you said they would. Even now, their broken bodies are being brought to me so I may drain them of their elemental powers. Powers I will use to shatter the wretched seal they bound you with and that keeps us apart!”

Roodaka gently, lovingly placed the Makuta stone into her breastplate. It began to pulse like a heartlight. “And then, there will be no need for these charades,” she whispered. “Together, you and I will —”

She stopped abruptly. Her expression turned as hard as the stone. Coldly, she demanded, “What is it?”

A Visorak stepped out of the thick shadows, looking like it wanted more than anything to run. But if the message it carried was not delivered, Roodaka would track the unfortunate spider creature down and then… It shuddered at the thought and began its report.

Roodaka listened intently. After only a few moments, she interrupted. “The Toa? Why do you speak of them as if they’re still alive?”

The Visorak’s mouth was dry. It glanced about, making note of where all the chamber’s exits were. Then, very quietly, it answered her question.

Roodaka’s reaction was immediate. Whirling, she smashed a pillar into dust. The Visorak backed away before she decided to vent her anger on it. But the viceroy of the hordes had no interest in one mere spider. No, her rage was reserved for a very specific group of individuals, whose name she spat out as if it were poison: “Rahaga!”

“Keetongu.”

After he had spoken the word, Rahaga Norik waited for some reaction. But the looks on the Toa’s faces indicated that none of them had ever heard the name before.

Onwea, at least, was willing to pretend he understood. “The key to Nongu,” he said, matter-of-factly.

Norik shot the Toa Hordika of Stone a look, then continued. “Keetongu is a most honorable Rahi, skilled in the ways of venoms – not to mention our only hope to stand against the Visorak horde. If you are to be the Toa you once were, it is Keetongu you must seek.”

“But… what are we now?” asked Nokama.

“The Visorak’s Hordika venom courses within you,” Norik replied grimly. “If it is not neutralized, it will take root… and Hordika you will remain. Forever.”

Nuju frowned. His mind had been sifting through theories ever since the strangers first appeared. Now he looked at Norik and said quietly, “Like you?”

“I am a Rahaga. Norik is my name.” Then the bizarre-looking being gestured to his companions and introduced each of them in turn. “Gaaki. Bomonga. Kualus. Pouks. Iruini.”

A moment of silence followed. It was finally broken by Matau, who said awkwardly, “So… how’s that working out for you?”

“It has its moments,” Norik replied. “This is not one of them.”

Nokama shook her head. In the end, it didn’t matter what these “Rahaga” were or why. All that mattered to her was what they knew. “Can you take us to Keetongu?” she asked.

Iruini stifled a laugh. Norik turned and looked he fellow Rahaga sternly. “Iruini!”

Nokama looked from one to the other. “I don’t understand.”

“What Iruini so inappropriately suggests is that this will be… difficult,” Norik answered. “We Rahaga have come to Metru Nui in search of Keetongu ourselves, and there are those that… well… doubt his existence entirely.”

Nuju’s eye narrowed. “And you?”

Norik drew himself up to his full height and said firmly, “I believe.”

Nokama nodded. “Then so must we.”

“Whoa there, sister,” broke in Matau. “Shouldn’t we think-talk about this? You know, grouplike?” He turned to Vakama, who was standing apart from the others. “What do you think, mask-maker?”

The Toa Hordika of Fire stared into the flames. His tone of voice said that his thoughts were far away. “I say that we came to Metru Nui to rescue the Matoran. Not to hunt Rahi.”

“And you have a way to do this?” pressed Norik. “Perhaps with your new Hordika powers? Powers you have not yet learned to use.”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know, or don’t want to include the rest of us in your thinking?” Norik challenged.

Vakama turned from the fire to give the Rahaga a hard stare. Then he rose and walked off into the darkness, saying only, “Neither.”

“Vakama!” Nokama said, shocked at his behavior.

Norik started after the troubled Toa Hordika. “I will talk to him.”

“What about us?” asked Matau.

Norik smiled, but there was little humor in the expression. “Prepare yourselves. We’ve a legend to prove.”

It took some time for Norik to calm Vakama and for the two to arrive at a compromise. Returning to the Toa Hordika, the pair suggested that the attempt to rescue the Matoran take priority over the search for Keetongu. All six Toa  agreed that their own personal concerns about becoming Hordika permanently could not be as important as saving the sleeping victims of Makuta.

That they would succeed in rescuing the Matoran, no one doubted – at least, no one willing to speak up and say so. But that still left the problem of how to get them out of the city and to the island above. The Lhikan II was wrecked, and even if it hadn’t been, it wasn’t big enough to carry close to 1,000 Matoran. In the end, it was Matau who suggested they gather the materials to build airships and fly the Matoran to safety.

A city overrun by Visorak and rampaging Rahi made this easier said than done. After a number of harrowing adventures, the Toa Metru did finally succeed in getting the items they needed and began constructing and hiding ships. Once the Matoran had been saved, there would be no need to delay making an escape from the city.

Despite their victory, the Toa Hordika were left more fragmented and disturbed than before. They were rapidly mastering the Rhotuka spinners they now carried, but had less luck mastering the Rahi sides of themselves. Too often, they had allowed anger to rule their spirits almost to the point of disaster. Vakama, in particular, had been filled with anger for days and had finally reached a point where he avoided the others completely. He spent most of his time wandering the ruins, straying farther away from the camp each day, as if straining against an invisible chain that bound him to Nokama and the rest. He surveyed the wreckage of the once proud city, reflecting on what the Toa were, what they had been, and what they had become.

So lost in thought was he that he sometimes forgot just how much Metru Nui had changed. With the Archives destroyed by the earthquake, every Rahi that had ever been housed there was now loose and roaming the city. A near fatal reminder of that came on one of his walks, when a savage Muaka cat sprang from the rubble to confront him. It snarled at Vakama, muscles tensed to spring and claws ready to rend the Toa Hordika.

Vakama reacted purely by instinct. He hunched down, blazer claws raised, and growled like a Rahi. There was no strategy behind his actions, just an animalistic show of strength. Even without his willing it, a Rhotuka spinner took shape in the launcher that was now part of his anatomy.

The Muaka took a step back. This creature looked like one of the two-legged ones that had captured the Rahi long ago, but it did not act like one. It acted like a beast, and a formidable beast at that. Deciding there had to be easier prey than this, the Muaka turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Vakama forced himself to relax. With enormous effort, he pushed down the Hordika in him and let his rational side return to dominance. “What was —?” he began.

“It meant you no harm.”

The Toa Hordika of Fire turned to see Norik approaching. The Rahaga had been silently trailing Vakama since he had left the camp. In time, Vakama’s Hordika senses would make it impossible for him to be followed.

“I beg to differ,” Vakama replied.

Norik glanced in the direction the Muaka had gone. “It was just scared. Muaka are loners by nature, and uncomfortable being close to others.” He gestured to Vakama. “There’s a bit of them in you now.”

It was then that the Rahaga noticed Vakama’s Rhotuka spinner was still active and waiting to be launched. “Careful with that,” he said quietly. “It’s a most powerful tool.”

Vakama had not even realized the fire spinner was there, but now he willed it to dissipate. Still, it gave him some satisfaction to know it could intimidate the Rahaga just as it had the Muaka.

“I certainly mean to find that out… wise one,” he replied, with more than a little sarcasm in his voice. Then he turned and walked away, only to be stopped by Norik’s voice.

“And what about your friends?”

Vakama spun on his heel, growling, “Former friends. If they think being a leader is so easy, they can try it themselves.”

“True,” Norik said, nodding. “But they won’t succeed without you. Or you without them.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I don’t,” Norik conceded. “But the Great Spirit does. Unity, duty, and destiny. If you Toa are to rescue the Matoran, you must do so together. This is something you can’t change.”

Vakama stared at the Rahaga for a long moment, digesting his words. Then he turned again and stalked off into the shadows.

“Watch me,” he snapped.

Norik watched him go. Yes, Vakama, that I will do, he said to himself. You bear watching in these dark days, perhaps even more than you know.