Chapter Eleven

The Vahki transport exploded out of the ground. Matau had been worried about the possibility of injuring Matoran when the vehicle hit the surface. Now he saw he need not have worried, because there were no Matoran in sight.

Anywhere.

For the first time, the Toa of Air wondered if they were going to be too late. They would go down in legend as the heroes who took too long to come to the rescue. Then again, if they weren’t on time, there might not be anyone left to write the legends. He leaned on the throttle and rocketed the transport to the heart of the city.

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Up front, Whenua collapsed, exhausted. He had never felt such complete and utter fatigue in his whole life, but it was a good feeling. It meant he had done his job and come through when the Toa needed him most. Maybe he could do this job, after all.

Onewa leaned forward. “Hey, glow-head.”

Whenua turned to look at him, bracing for another one of Onewa’s insults. But instead the Toa of Stone held out a hand and said, “Well done, my brother.”

Both Toa smiled and clanked their fists together.

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Further back, Vakama was absorbed in mask-making once again. He couldn’t explain why, but he had a strong feeling this mask he was making was going to be vital to saving the city.

If it can be saved, he thought. Whoever is posing as Dume has Nidhiki, Krekka, and the Vahki on his side. Plus the Matoran believe him to be the city’s elder and will follow his orders. I only hope they are not the last orders they ever follow.

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Matoran streamed into the Coliseum from all over the city, under the watchful optical sensors of the Vahki. Most looked confused, some looked worried, but a few were simply happy for a break from work. All of them had come in response to Turaga Dume’s call. They had no idea what had prompted the city-wide alert, but they were sure it was nothing that Dume could not handle. After all, he was the Turaga, wasn’t he?

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The false Turaga Dume watched the unsuspecting Matoran file in. They were so innocent. They would never be able to handle the changes that were coming. Better that they should be sheltered from it all, until such time as he decided they could resume their lives again.

He turned to look at the massive sundial. The shadows of the twin suns had begun to partially overlap. Smiling, he glanced at a Kanohi Mask of Power that hung on the wall, the symbol of the Great Spirit Mata Nui.

“Ah, twilight,” he whispered. “The dawn of shadows.”