Chapter 3

Nokama guided Gali to one of the largest huts of the village. It was one Gali knew well, for it contained the swirling pool of the Sacred Waters, rippling beneath a giant pink flower. The Sacred Waters were a source of Nokama’s prophecies, and she often consulted them for insight.

“Gali, the prophecies speak in riddles of the future. In your quests, you have gained great power, and even more awaits you still. Legends speak of powerful suits of armor that await you, and masks with powers you cannot possibly imagine. But in these next adventures, you cannot forget your true sources of power - the elements themselves. For they hold the keys to defeating the forces that threaten our people.”

The Toa of Water nodded. “I think we’re starting to see how powerful they can be, especially after Mangaia.”

“Indeed,” Nokama nodded thoughtfully. “It was a demonstration you saw well. But it seems the Toa are already forgetting another important lesson, the virtue of unity that you learned at Kini-Nui and in Mangaia. You must be the one to remember that wisdom and guide your brothers in the battles to come.”

“I was already planning to return to the others once the attacks have stopped and the village is secure” remarked Gali. “But what if the others don’t listen? I have seen firsthand how foolhardy and brash they can be. Onua may understand this, but if the others don’t—”

“Then the six of you will be defeated,” Nokama replied. “A Toa team that cannot remember the three Matoran virtues will be defeated. If you will not stand united, you will not stand at all. As Whenua has observed, the source of power — true power — is six Toa side-by-side.”

Nokama stirred the waters with her trident thoughtfully. “When you Toa awoke, you awoke in pieces. You knew intuitively that you had to reunite the pieces of your bodies to become whole. But the six of you have resisted applying the same lesson to your team. If the natural connection between you is not restored, you will not function as you are meant to.”

“I understand,” Gali said, nodding.

“Remember,” the Turaga said, ”You will only succeed when you are willing to dig deep inside your hearts and risk everything, even your very selves. The safety of our people is worth every risk. The Turaga have learned this lesson the hard way.”

“The hard way?” Gali asked. “Did the Turaga used to fight and adventure as a team?”

Nokama looked away, and her eyes narrowed.

“We have… united in the past to defeat Makuta’s threats,” she said slowly. She looked again at Gali. “Remember, we also hold elemental powers, although they aren’t as grand as yours.”

“Right,” Gali nodded.

Nokama looked away again. She exhaled. “You might say we were once heroes of the Matoran in times past. We found a way to channel our power and sacrifice it so that the Matoran would be safe from Makuta’s schemes.”

“You used to have more power?” asked Gali.

“You could say that,” Nokama nodded slowly.

“What sort of power did you have?”

The Turaga was still looking away, and Gali could see that she was thinking hard.

“When I say… when I say we were heroes of the Matoran—”

A horn blared and all around the village, and Ga-Matoran around their village dropped their tools and looked up. Maku was running from the beach onto the lily pads and pointing up the bay.

“They’re coming! The attackers are coming from Mount Ihu!”

“The Bohrok have arrived,” breathed Gali.

Gali and Nokama rushed out of the hut to the village square. All around them, Maku and Kotu were organizing the panicking Matoran and directing them. Turaga Nokama hurried to help them. Gali knelt by the edge of the water and placed her hand in the current. She closed her eyes and listened to the surrounding ocean, sensing for disturbances. Nothing… yet.

She looked up. Matoran were scrambling to the defenses, and Ga-Koro guards picked up bamboo poles to fight with. A Matoran with a Kaukau handed out the bamboo poles before running to set up nets as protective fences. Gali had noticed this Matoran running around the village before, and she was always impressed by the energy and enthusiasm with which the villager threw herself into new tasks — even those she wasn’t necessarily suited for or trained in.

“Nokama, that Matoran,” Gali said, gesturing. “What’s her name?”

The Turaga was hurrying by with some rope. “Oh, with the Kaukau?” she asked.

Gali nodded.

“That’s Hahli. She’s our assistant flax maker.”

“I see,” Gali remarked.

The Toa began to pace, eager to fight off these Bohrok. She didn’t have the other Toa for this fight, but she felt strangely confident that these Matoran could hold their own. Since the attack of the Tarakava early upon Gali’s arrival, the Matoran had planted dozens of bamboo sticks in the surrounding waters to hamper large Rahi from swimming too close. More nets and ropes were hidden in and around the village as small traps or equipment. Even the Ga-Matoran fishing rods were made of sturdier material in case they had to double as weapons.

And then there was the village guard itself. Over the years, Kotu had made it her personal mission to recover and tame the antagonistic Rahi that had been freed from Makuta’s control. Now a sizable number of Rahi had dedicated themselves to her for her saving actions, forming a powerful sea-based force. But these would be of little use against attacks over land.

“Turaga, do you think we should weaken the causeways in case we have to destroy them?” Maku asked.

Gali glanced over. Nokama was staring thoughtfully at the bridge connecting the floating village to the shore. In her eyes was a look of alarm and fear, knowing that either option could have dangerous implications.

“If we have to weaken them, it may give out when we can least afford it,” Kotu replied. “And it could leave us stranded on one or another lilypad. If the attackers are coming at us from the seas, we will be unable to cross to another.”

“What about the main one?” asked Maku then. “We can endure a siege if we must, as long as the Bohrok cannot enter the village.”

“If it comes to that,” Nokama decided, “Then we will destroy it.”

If it comes to that, will we have enough warning? Gali wondered. She looked in the direction of Mount Ihu, where Maku had said the Bohrok were coming from. Not that they seem to be in any rush.

She frowned.

Even moving slowly, the Bohrok should have been here already.

Gali leaped from the lilypad and swam for the shore, emerging quickly on the beach. Calling on the powers of the Kakama, she made her way inland, skirting the Hura-Mafa River that flowed down from Mount Ihu.

But something was wrong. The river was lower than normal. Rather than the steady surge of water streaming down from the mountain, the further she went the weaker the flow was.

Her eyes widened as she drew closer to the mountain. Speeding up a tall ridge, she knelt low as she saw scores of black-armored Bohrok running around a narrow choke point in the river like a swarm of ants. Each unit ran to and from the river, bringing stones, logs, and anything else they could use and had already succeeded in building a large dam. Other Nuhvok were digging trenches through the marshy plains to direct the stream to a deep gorge in the earth that more Nuhvok as well as Nuhvok Va were scurrying in and out of.

Onu-Koro! Gali realized. They’re harnessing the river to wreck the lowlands and flush out the Onu-Matoran tunnels.

A rage swelled in her. Leaping over the ridge, Gali landed on the side of the river. Recognizing the disturbance, the Bohrok stopped and looked at her.

“You’re right. The Hura-Mafa waters are capable of great destruction,” the Toa thundered, a torrent of water swirling around her. “As you will see.”

✴        ✴        ✴

Onua collapsed beneath the statue carved of him in Onu-Koro. They had miraculously avoided evacuating the city so far. Onepu had rallied the Ussalry and driven the attackers back — it seemed they were safe for now. But any non-essential Onu-Matoran were being evacuated to the surface, even as those who remained tried to prepare defenses. But in his heart, Onua wondered if it was only a matter of time before they, too, were forced to flee.

He pulled himself to his feet and sought out the Turaga who was near his home and deep in discussion with a Foreman.

“Turaga, it’s not good. Several key logistical hubs have been cut off by swarm attacks. Several supports for the Le-Koro Highway have also collapsed and the tradesmen lost countless wares during their escape.”

“I can dig a path to Le-Koro when we need it,” Onua offered. “Let’s not worry about that for now.”

“Also,” the foreman hesitated to say. “The Great Mine… it’s…”

“Flooded,” Whenua exhaled, finishing for him.

“Yes, Turaga. Completely. We’ve lost much of our equipment there, including one of our more valuable diggers.”

“Have the waters penetrated our deepest shafts?”

“They have, and a strange silver liquid is bubbling up in some of them.”

Whenua inhaled.

“Give orders that those shafts are not to be used. The Great Mine will take many months to drain, so we will have to expand the Marn Tunnels…”

Assuming we can stop this threat at all, Onua thought. Those Bohrok will surely be back.

“Onua.”

The Toa looked up. The Turaga was looking at him.

“Come with me, Onua,” Whenua said, leading him away. “You need to see something.”

“Where are we going, Turaga?” the Toa asked.

“We’re going to the deepest shafts of the Great Mine.”

✴        ✴        ✴

Whenua took an air bladder, even as Onua swapped his mask to the Kaukau. Whenua ran and leaped into the Great Mine, plummeting into the waters like a brick. Onua shook his head, then followed after.

Compact as they were, it was not long before they reached the bottom. Whenua kicked and swam into one of the shafts at the bottom of the mine, then nodded at Onua. When the Toa glided in, he immediately saw what the foreman had been talking about. Silver bubbles were emerging from the rocks and floating through the water. These did not appear like any ordinary liquid, however. A strange source of power emanated from it.

Onua reached out to touch it, but the Turaga batted his hand away and shook his head. He then swam for the exit and pointed up. The Toa took him by the hand, switched to his Kakama, and jetted to the surface.

✴        ✴        ✴

“As you know,” Whenua said, shaking the water off himself, “We have invested our resources and tireless labor into extracting protodermis from the very deepest of our mines. Protodermis is the stuff of our life. With it we build villages and trade goods, and sometimes even to repair ourselves. Protodermis appears in every material form, but there is one that you cannot, under any circumstances, touch.”

Onua’s eyes narrowed.

“This protodermis is energized with limitless power,” Whenua continued. “When harnessed, it can be a source of great power, and the Matoran have used it in the past as such. But no living being should ever touch it, or else they test destiny itself.”

“Destiny?” asked Onua.

“You will either die or be reborn in the protodermis,” Whenua replied. “No one knows what will happen to them when they touch it. Only destiny knows.”

“It sounds arbitrary,” the Toa replied. “Like chance.”

“It might seem that way,” Whenua replied elusively, “if only the great prophecies were not also found to be in alignment.”

Onua nodded reluctantly. It was a lot for him to ponder.

“What do the great prophecies say about this coming fight against the Bohrok?” he asked.

“They say a great deal,” Whenua continued, starting back toward the village. “But prophecies are like the fog that escapes your grasp no matter how hard you may try to hold it. And their riddles only become clear when what they describe is passing and it is too late to change.”