Mazeka: Interlude Three

Four years ago…

The Valmai Falls were a relatively recent addition to the landscape of the Southern Continent. The region at the center of the landmass had once been a volcanic region — which is to say, it had featured a single prominent volcano with a winding network of lava veins and pockets beneath the surface. Mount Valmai was nothing special as tourist destinations went, but a small collection of Matoran villages had sprung up in the surrounding regions.

All this had changed in the Great Cataclysm. Many of the more devout Turaga saw the Great Cataclysm as a dramatic act of judgement on the Great Spirit’s part, and this region was no exception. If the legend was to be believed, the Matoran had strayed so far from their duties and responsibilities to the Great Spirit that Mata Nui had seen fit to bring the villagers before him in judgement.

Reaching down from his home in the heavens, the Great Spirit swept the region up in a spectacle of thunderous rapture, pulling them to him in the heavens beyond where the Matoran would be condemned for their sins. In their place, Mata Nui sent a giant waterfall cascading from the stars as a warning to anyone who would dare repeat the same mistakes. The name of the volcano — an archaic Matoran word for “cursed” — was reapplied to the falls.

Although the Order had recently assured Mazeka that it was Makuta, not Mata Nui who had been responsible for the tragedy of the Valmai Region, Mazeka had not understood their reasoning as to why this would be. Why would a Great Spirit let innocent Matoran be judged in this way? What would possibly give even a Makuta the power to jettison a fragment of a continent from the very universe? If Mazeka had been Great Spirit, there were a number of things he would do differently.

Still, no matter Mata Nui’s shortcomings as a Great Spirit, he certainly had a beautiful sense for natural scenery. The Falls stretched for mio in a giant crescent, cascading down from somewhere beyond the stars in a breath-taking display. Every few minutes, bolts of lightning would fork away from the top, darting across the sky. Unlike most waterfalls, which filled lakes or rivers beneath, this water descended deep into a seemingly bottomless abyss far beneath the bedrock. Many had attempted to scale the abyss or burrow to see where the waters led, but those that weren’t killed instantly by the falls were never heard from again. To make matters worse, the area surrounding the falls seemed to give off a dangerous radiation that could mutate any living thing nearby if it spent too much time there. Natives of the region were content to remember that despite their beauty, the Valmai Falls would always be a pillar of judgement.

Mazeka and Krakua looked on, enraptured by the scale and the beauty of the scene as Mazeka piloted the Swamp Strider through the rocky plains of the continent. Krakua shook his head.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” the De-Matoran mused, “but nothing on the Tren Krom Peninsula can possibly compare to this. The Acid Falls were trickles by comparison.”

Mazeka nodded. It took a lot, but this site alone may well eclipse even the combined spectacle of the peninsula. Against the red sky, the evening daylight was beginning to dim, and the falls glimmered and glowed as they were bathed in the rays.

“How far do you think it extends?” Krakua asked. He leaned closer to Mazeka’s seat. “The outpost is in the center, right? The region that juts into the crescent?”

“Yep,” Mazeka said. Without another word, he steered the strider straight toward them.

✴        ✴        ✴

The crashing of the Valmai Falls was surprisingly muted. Certainly, there was a degree of cacophony resounded between the walls of water that wasn’t present outside the curtain. But perhaps because the falls were so bottomless, it muffled the crashing that would otherwise be deafening.

“Hear that?” Krakua whispered. “Sounds like a campfire. Just inside the door.”

Mazeka stopped and glared at him.

“The fort’s still a mio away.”

Krakua slowed and shrugged. “Thought you’d want to know.”

The two had left the Swamp Strider behind and were now moving slowly, hunched beneath visibility. The structure, growing larger and larger in the distance, had certainly seen better days. More than an outpost, the fort appeared to be a collection of ruined buildings surrounded by some sunken fortifications. Many Toa had retreated here after the fall of the Toa Fortress and the decline of the once-glorious Toa Federation, some of which were Helryx’s only known living peers. But the Makuta attacks in the wake of the Great Cataclysm had scattered them for good, and it was unclear whether they still lived. If they were wise, Mazeka estimated, they would have shed the Code that tethered them and instead resorted to running and killing. At any rate, none had heard from them.

So the Toa outpost was left abandoned and ruined. Until tonight.

As the Order operatives neared the fallen battlements, they took great care to duck in and around some of the obsidian boulders dotting the landscape. Since the volcano had been swept away and the magma cooled by the waters, rugged grass had sprung up in the area. Some Daikau saplings could be observed here or there, but these were infrequent, as the roots had much difficulty piercing the hard earth.

Although Krakua was listening intently, he didn’t seem to pick up on much movement within the outpost. The two Matoran snuck close to one of the fallen gateways, and as they did, Krakua closed his eyes, despite continuing to move forward.

“What are you doing?” Mazeka hissed.

“Echolocation. Most De-Matoran aren’t noisy or patient enough to master it,” Krakua murmured. “Their loss. Now hush, I hear you already.”

He edged closer to the wall, eyes still closed.

As he did, Mazeka’s foot fell on something smooth, unlike the rest of the rocks in the landscape. He bent down and pulled it from the dirt.

Yes, it seemed to bear the carvings of an ovid Toa Stone, and it pulsed with a faint energy. Mazeka snorted and placed it in his belt. He’d throw it into the falls later, where it wouldn’t do any harm.

“Yes, there she is. Alone by the fire,” Krakua muttered, taken with whatever he was seeing. “I’m not picking up anything else. Either they haven’t gotten here yet, or they’re staying still. No sign of Vultraz.”

“It’s a risk we’re going to have to take,” Mazeka responded. Moving around the fallen gate, he spied the Av-Matoran warming her hands against the flame. She appeared to be alone in the large courtyard.

He whistled at her. This failed to get her attention, so he found a small rock and threw it at her. She jumped, startled. Seeing Mazeka approaching her, her eyes widened and she started to panic.

“Get awa—”

“They’re here!” shouted Krakua, leaping through the gates.

With a loud BOOM, an impulse blast exploded from somewhere on the opposite side of the Av-Matoran, sending dust, dirt and debris in every direction, and blowing out the campfire. Mazeka was hurled backwards, and the Av-Matoran was sent tumbling.

Out of the distance, one Shadow Matoran leaped over the masonry and broke into a dash in the direction of the Av-Matoran, who jumped to her feet and ran for cover. From the other side, Krakua’s face contorted in agony at the noise, but he sprinted after the receding pair. Mazeka was about to follow when something from behind swept his feet out from under him.

Rolling, he readied to see his attacker, then grimaced when he saw.

“No more free passes,” Vultraz snarled as his blade fell.