BIONICLE Legends: Invasion
Chapter 8
Written by Jeff Douglas
The Cord
They had arrived.
As the six Pit War Tortoises neared the Cord, they swung their hindquarters forward beneath them to slow their rapid swim. Using their bellies to slow their advance, they touched down at an entrance to the Cord gracefully.
Without missing a beat, the giant turtles righted themselves and began crawling on all fours up the passage. Moving in rough single file, they moved fast, urged on by their eager riders.
From the back of his mount, the Porakoa smiled. The amphibious, mutated Pit War Tortoises were revered throughout the underwater domain for their speed and maneuverability — two valuable qualities when trying to get around fast in water. Most useful was the fact that they could take the prisoners above the water level. Double checking that his tank was fastened, the Porakoa watched as the War Tortoises each ascended above the level of the water.
He raised his hand and was startled by how weightless it was. It had been centuries since he had been above water, and this would certainly take some getting used to. No doubt it would prove an unexpected factor in the hunt.
The Garakoa pointed behind them at the water level. “It’s rising. Something happened up above. The Cord has started flooding.”
“That should make things easier for us,” the Onukoa smiled.
“What do you think happened?”
“Someone popped a few holes near the surface and it isn’t as airtight anymore,” Tarukoa shrugged. “No big deal.”
“Perhaps when we’re done here we can raid the island above,” Porakoa snarled.
“No,” Korakoa spoke. “We are so unused to being above the surface, and we are so vulnerable with these tanks. Maybe one day, but not any time soon.”
His companions nodded. With that, they turned his attention back to their rapid upward flight.
✴ ✴ ✴
Nuparu was the first to see them. Noticing the movement out of the corner of his eye, he stood.
“Incoming.”
The other Inika looked up and stood as well.
“Are they Rahi?” muttered Hewkii.
The smallish creature in the lead brandished its swords and unleashed a chilling ‘whoop whoop!’ Those behind him echoed his cry.
“That doesn’t tell me anything,” Hewkii muttered.
The six smaller creatures rose to their feet atop the shells of the scurrying tortoises. As the turtles slowed, the newcomers leaped forward and landed in the dirt some distance away from the Toa. The Pit War Tortoises stopped and retreated slightly.
They were hulking, armored monstrosities, shelled in gray suits that seemed to hide the true forms of the creatures beneath. Under the layers of silver and black, the six elemental colors could be perceived on each respectively. But if they were wearing some Exo-Toa-like suit, they looked incapable of removing it now as their organic material had been mutated and grown onto the suits, fusing them to their owners. Now they stood at nearly the height of a Toa and looked just as formidable.
The only aspect of the creatures that did not seem fused to them was a tank that seemed fixed to their masks and face. The tank extended up and covered their heads, even a mechanism appeared to pump water in and out of their mouths.
“Their masks look organic,” said the red creature. “Never have I seen Kanohi that appeared so… appetizing.”
“Enough!” Jaller declared, stepping forward. “I don’t know who you are, but we are bound for the Pit and you stand in our way. Step aside and we will let you be on yours.”
The six creatures exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.
“Air-breathing creatures bound for the Pit? I’ve seen much insanity in my time down there, but this tops it all,” laughed the Garakoa.
“We came to feed, and that’s what we’re going to do,” snarled the Onukoa. “I hear Toa go particularly well with salt. Shall we dunk them in the waters below before eating them?”
“Hold on,” murmured the crimson monster. “Why does your voice sound so familiar?”
Hahli threw a glance at Matoro. “Matoro, give me back my Kanohi.”
“And risk them overwhelming us in the dark?” The Toa of Ice shot back. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Hewkii moved to Jaller’s side. “We have a mission below, and not a moment to spare. We don’t want conflict. As Jaller said, stand down and we’ll leave you in peace.”
“Jaller…” whispered the Tarukoa.
Porakoa pointed his blade at the creatures. “Peace? With Toa? We’ve had eighty thousand years of peace — I’m fixing for a fight!”
“Great,” Kongu rolled his eyes. “Just our luck.”
Shouting at the top of their lungs, the mutants charged for the Toa.
✴ ✴ ✴
Far above the struggle, the spirit of Matoro watched helplessly as the six Toa locked in combat with the six mutant creatures. Although the mutants were doubtless formidable warriors in their own environments, their discomfort above the water was proving a hindrance to them. The fact that they had spent close to a thousand years dwelling exclusively beneath the seas was taking its toll.
However, the fight was by no means one-sided. The Toa were still reeling from their prior fights, and Hahli was especially having trouble. The damage dealt by the Garakoa added to the absence of her mask were only furthering her already costly injuries.
Of the twelve, only the Toa Inika of Ice was having a relatively easy time, dueling his opponent with painless ease. As the white mutant grew more and more enraged, it only made things easier for his opponent.
Matoro’s eyes narrowed. He did not know who it was that had inhabited his body, but if his suspicions were correct, it seemed his worst fears were coming true.
✴ ✴ ✴
As Kongu traded blows with his dark parallel, his opponent frowned.
“He’s right,” he murmured. “You do seem familiar.”
“I like to imagine-think that if I’d seen a face as hideous-ugly as yours, I would remember,” Kongu grunted.
“You’re one to talk, with a mask like that,” Lerukoa replied, dodging a blow from the Toa’s crossbow. “Chutespeak, though… I haven’t heard such slang used since my time on Metru Nui.”
“It’s a good thing they got rid of you fast, then.”
“Perhaps,” Lerukoa mused, firing a harpoon weapon. Kongu used his air powers to send it flying away, but at that moment. Kongu prepared to counterattack, but the Lerukoa was distracted by the Pit War Tortoises who had abandoned their positions and fled back to the ocean.
“Strange,” Lerukoa remarked. “They’re trained better than that.” He turned to see Matoro was staring intently after the Rahi.
“They know better than to interfere with Toa.”
The Lerukoa’s eyes lit up with sudden recognition.
“Kongu?! Is that you?”
✴ ✴ ✴
For her part, Hahli was struggling to fend off her attacker, and her growing list of injuries only served to increase her desperation. But when the Garakoa slammed her into the wall, she fell, stunned.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Matoro whirl and look at her. A bitter rage welled up as she remembered that her mask was still in his hands. She turned to shout at him. But as she met his eyes, she saw something strange there. A dark glint with strange familiarity. Whirling, she looked again at her attacker. Gone was the hulking brute that had threatened to fell her. She, like her companions, had been replaced by Rahi, and the tanks that had supplied them with water were revealed to be infected masks.
Her eyes widened with the realization. The vision fell away and the monstrosities returned, but Hahli knew what she had to do. Concentrating, she called upon the water within the tanks. One by one, the water pressure spiked and each tank exploded. The Garakoa fell to the ground, clutching at her throat.
Jaller glanced at her. “Hahli, what are you doing!”
Just as she was about to do the same to the Korakoa, Hahli realized what she was doing.
“Hahli!” Kongu shouted. “You killed them!”
“No!” Hahli exclaimed. “But the tanks were controlling them! Like the Infected Masks…” her voice drifted off.
The gaze of the Toa fell on the Korakoa, who was now alone. He frowned as he looked around.
“My comrades…” his expression was clouded. “We were bitter enemies until the Pit forced us together. Six Matoran struggling to survive in a realm of war criminals. We had only each other.”
The Toa Inika barely heard him, however, staring stock-still at what had happened. The fears they had experienced when battling the illusions of the 777 stairs rose back to the surface.
“I remember you, Jaller,” the pearl-white creature smiled sadly, interrupting their daze. “Do you remember me?”
Jaller looked at him and raised his weapons, wary of a trick.
“It’s been about eighty thousand years,” he continued. “But those responsible for the Great Disruption have finally been reunited.”
Jaller’s flame swords fell slightly in shock. “What?”
The white-armored creature perceived him viciously. “You really don’t remember, do you? You Toa are hunting the Mask of Life below, like so many others. The mask was used once before, though. When Jovan led his team to the volcanic region in the heart of the larger continent — the heart of the universe itself — it was to end a conflict that had begun in Metru Nui and spread throughout the Matoran Universe.” He smiled wolfishly. “The Matoran Civil War.”
Jaller’s eyes narrowed as the words cut through the fog of his memory.
“As conflict broke out in the city, there were no Toa, no Turaga. It fell to Matoran to lead our Metru — it fell to the six of us,” the mutant gestured to his fallen comrades. “We built ourselves the forms of Toa and dared to pursue what we thought was best for our regions. We enlisted the most capable Matoran to serve us, and each of you flocked to our respective ranks.”
“No,” Nuparu murmured. “I don’t believe it.”
“I wish I had the luxury to forget as you have,” the Korakoa snarled. “Macku, and Tamaru converted their business to produce vessels for war. At my command, Kopeke, like Kapura, Taipu and Hafu in their Metru, spread propaganda in the name of his element. Nuparu set to work in charge of the weapons division where he first began honing his powers of innovation. Jaller, Kongu, Kotu, and Onepu took positions as leading generals in the armies of their Metru, and Hewkii and Hahli worked as main strategists. You think you were guiltless, but you were just as responsible as we were in keeping the war going.”
Jaller’s eyes widened, the answers to so many questions he’d had unfolding before his eyes. As he exchanged glances with Nuparu and Kongu, he could see they were thinking the same things. When the Great War had broken out on Mata Nui against Makuta’s hordes of corrupted Rahi, he had immediately taken charge. He organized and led Ta-Wahi’s forces with breathtaking efficiency for one with seemingly no experience in such matters. He was too experienced to consider it natural talent, but when the Turaga had said nothing of it, he dismissed that concern.
But upon arriving on Voya Nui, he had felt the old questions rise again to the surface. How had he led a team of novice Toa against the Piraka, such experienced ex-mercenaries? The powerful Toa Nuva themselves had been defeated by those respected even by the Shadowed One.
It was a story of such impossible odds that even the Chroniclers would have difficulty explaining it. But now they had the truth.
“You were born in war!” The mutant snarled. “You were shaped by it as I was, and you deserve the punishment every bit as much as we did. The Pit yawns for you, runners. You belong as prisoners of the Pit.”
Before Jaller could protest, however, Matoro stepped forward.
“No, monster,” the Toa Inika of Ice responded. “You and your five colleagues took the fire of conflict and fanned it for your purposes. If it hadn’t been for you six, the Disruption would have ended after the first phase of the war.”
The mutant snarled. “Who are you? You are the only one of these that I do not recognize.”
“I am Ma — Matoro,” the Toa of Ice smiled wryly.
“That name… I knew of it, but you weren’t ever involved, were you?”
“No more involved than I had to be.” Matoro chuckled.
The mutant frowned and turned his attention back to the other Toa.
“Nevertheless,” he resumed. “You five have escaped the wrath of Hydraxon for millennia, but now it’s time you join your fellows—”
Again, Matoro interrupted. Shaking his head, he laughed.
“Do you remember what happened to you all those years ago? As the Great Disruption drew to a close… As Jovan’s team rode their lavacraft along the magma rivers of Mount Valmai and retrieved the Kanohi Ignika… We remember, even if nobody else does. Makuta teleported your armies to the Archives, to feed the exhibits, but before he could hunt you six down, you disappeared.”
“We were spirited away by a monstrous entity,” the other explained. “Left to rot in the depths of the Pit.”
“Botar,” Matoro breathed. “Yes, I know of him. Twice he deprived Makuta Teridax of his decisive triumph.”
“Who?” Kongu asked, surprised. “And what legends have you been keeping from us?”
Matoro ignored him, his eyes focused on the prisoner of the Pit. The Korakoa noticed this, glancing at him strangely at first. But then his expression clouded and changed as a light seemed to dawn on him. Shocked by the telepathic image filling his brain, he gasped, raising his blade to strike at Matoro.
“You!” he shrieked. “It was you! You are the one who doomed us! You! Mak—”
As if he had been muted, he spoke, but no words came out. Realizing this, he clutched at his throat in horror. He tried to speak again, but to no avail. Glaring again at Matoro, he attempted to strike, but Matoro made no move to defend himself. With a malevolent smile, the Toa simply stood there in frosty silence.
At the last minute, the water tank on the entity’s head shattered, and the fragments disintegrated. Taken by surprise, the mutant’s strike went wild and he fell to the ground, clutching at his throat and struggling to breathe.
“The Zyglak were Matoran once, but they didn’t choose their path. They were forced to be monsters,” Matoro said softly. “You, on the other hand… Your monstrosity is a reflection of your heart. You built yourselves up to be hollow imitations of Toa, but that could not be further from the truth.”
“Hahli,” Jaller spoke up. “Summon a water bubble to surround his mouth.”
The Toa Inika of Water started to do so, but was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of crippling fear.
“Jaller, don’t you see? The moment he recovers, he’s going to kill Matoro!”
“Do it, Hahli!” Jaller exclaimed, anger washing over him. “I’ve given you an order!”
“But Jaller—”
“It’s too late,” Hewkii muttered, stepping toward the exhaling corpse. “He’s already dead.”
“Hahli, you murdered him!” Nuparu exclaimed.
“No,” Hewkii sighed, staring hard at Matoro. “But one of us did. Isn’t that right, Makuta?”
Matoro stared at him in horror and confusion. But then the facade fell away and a mischievous smile stretched across his Kanohi Iden.
“Well done, Hewkii,” the master of shadows laughed. “Perhaps your head is less hard than I’d given you credit for.”