Chapter 2

The journey back to the village of Stone was long and unpleasant. Ordinarily, Pohatu would have activated his Kakama Nuva and traversed the desolate tundra with the grace of a Proto-Drake in flight. Now he had no choice but to traverse the precarious canyons. Today he was humbled by the monotonous walk of shame.

Heads turned as the Toa entered the central courtyard of the Po-Koro Bazaar. Pahrak-Va were dotted around the village square, obediently hauling supplies to rebuild the defenses shattered by the Tahnok not long before. Tradesmen looked up from their stalls and paused mid-transaction, unsure what to make of the miserable procession.

“Could we not have close-skirted around the outside instead of walking straight through?” asked Lewa, shying away from the prying eyes of the villagers.

“We have no reason to avoid them,” snapped Tahu in response, eyeing the guard posted outside of Turaga Onewa’s quarters. “Toa don’t hide from Matoran.”

“Yes, it seems that Toa don’t do much of anything these days,” retorted the Toa of Air with uncharacteristic ice in his tone. “But, then again, not all of us have the luxury of hiding behind a strong-fort in the middle of a volcano.”

Pohatu hung back furtively, sensing the rising tension between his two brothers. Lewa had struck a nerve and Tahu wasn’t one to shy away from confrontation. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to lock eyes with the emerald-armored Toa, the brow of his Akaku Nuva twisted into a snarl, his hands balled into fists. Now more of the Po-Matoran came to stare at them.

“Care to say that again, vine-swinger?”

A hostile silence.

Rolling his eyes, Pohatu stepped forward to intervene in the standoff.

“I think we could all stand to get under some shade,” suggested the Toa of Stone, putting a hand on Tahu’s shoulder and breaking his gaze. “The desert sun can make us say crazy things, isn’t that right Lewa?”

After a long moment, the Toa of Air nodded reluctantly.

“That… That got a little too personal,” he said apologetically. “I should’ve thought-spoken. I’m sorry, brother.”

“Let’s just find the Turaga,” bristled the Toa of Fire, doing his best to shrug off the exchange.

It took the three Toa a while longer to locate the village elder. He didn’t appear to be in his quarters, the Kolhii Stadium, or the Bazaar. It wasn’t until Pohatu consulted a guard that they were pointed in the direction of the Po-Koro Quarry, where they were greeted by the sounds of a hundred hands busily chiseling wood, chipping stone, and hammering metal. Thankfully, few crafters looked up from their work to pay the Toa much heed.

They found the Turaga at the back of the quarry, hard at work crafting a new statue. Approaching the ancient stonemason furtively, all three of the heroes found themselves drawn to the curious sculpture he was chiseling away at. It looked like a Toa of some sort, standing as tall as a Tarakava and sporting a large shield and a spear. Onewa was standing atop a ladder, sculpting a strange and shapeless Kanohi, as though he were trying to decide between two masks. It looked like no Mask of Power they had encountered on the island.

“Good day, Turaga!” announced Pohatu, startling the village chief out of his work.

The elder’s eyes widened in acknowledgement. Hastily, he covered the unfinished head with a ragged sailcloth and began climbing down the ladder.

“Greetings, Toa Nuva,” he said with a distant smile, nodding when he registered their Kanohi. “I have been expecting your arrival.”

“What’re you working on there?” asked Tahu, studying the unusual statue with interest.

“I’m keeping a promise… to an old friend,” muttered the Turaga, reaching the bottom of the ladder. “I suspect that is not why you have come to Po-Koro, Toa of Fire.”

Sagging heavily back into an upright hunch, Onewa snatched up his Stone Hammer once more and gestured towards a modest crowd of Matoran artisans in the center of the quarry, chiseling away at pieces of fine marble and smooth granite. Angled atop a pedestal was the subject of their attention: Lewa’s Miru Nuva.

“You found it!” exclaimed the Toa of Air with joy, starting towards his beloved Kanohi only to meet the resistance of Onewa’s Stone Hammer.

“The Po-Koro Guard reported an object falling from the sky above Tiro Canyon,” continued the Turaga of Stone darkly. “I had my scouts investigate. You can imagine my surprise when they returned with a Mask of Power belonging to Le-Koro’s guardian.”

“The Gahlok-Kal got the better of us, wise-one,” conceded Pohatu, pulling an uncomfortable expression from behind his Kaukau Nuva. “It scattered our Kanohi Nuva to the skies and continues to wander the Motara desert. We couldn’t stop it.”

“But we’re not done trying,” continued Tahu. “We intend to reclaim our Kanohi Nuva and drive the Bohrok-Kal from this land. If it takes a week, a month, even a year, we shall eventually be victorious.”

The Turaga of Stone regarded the three Toa coolly before pulling a face and choosing to speak.

“If Vakama were here he would no doubt note the sad irony of your predicament,” he chuckled. “But, for better or worse, he is not. I suppose responsibility falls upon my weary shoulders to point out the lesson here…”

Hobbling closer, the elder surveyed each of the Toa closely, choosing his words carefully before speaking.

“While Nuju and Whenua spend their days either rooted in ancient soil or aspiring for a place among the stars, you will find that the citizens of Po-Koro celebrate the much more immediate principle of Strategy,” he said softly. “It serves our athletes well in the Kolhii arena and has molded keen traders out of the Po-Matoran. Above all else it is Strategy that you Toa must embrace if you hope to defeat the Bohrok-Kal and earn back your Kanohi. Once you have used the impressive power of the Kanohi Nuva available to you to drive the Gahlok-Kal from these lands, I will return the Miru Nuva to you. Until then, my carvers need practice.”

Raising his Stone Hammer, Onewa prodded Lewa’s heartlight with the flat of his staff, his meaning clear.

“The Pakari Nuva is the Mask of Strength. Your brother, Onua, uses that mask to cleave great megaliths of rock and dirt from the ground. But he is also constant and steadfast. He knows the true value of such fortitude and does not take it lightly. He knows well enough to appear weak when he is strong and strong when he is weak. If you wish to best your opponent then you, Lewa Nuva, must plant yourself in the ground and trust your new strength.”

The Toa of Air’s features knitted into an inquisitive frown as Onewa’s Stone Hammer moved on to poke Tahu.

“The Akaku Nuva is the Mask of Vision. Kopaka uses it to assess his environment from afar before choosing whether or not to engage. Such a vantage makes him distant and aloof but, in this regard, he is a wise Toa and a cunning tactician. While it is perhaps not as pliant as your Hau Nuva during battle, the Akaku is a powerful addition to the arsenal of any Toa seeking to make the most of his surroundings. Any carpenter can carry a chisel but only the finest masons can use its edge to leave their mark upon the world. Your mask, Toa Tahu, allows you to see through your opponent to uncover their greatest weakness or even the secrets hidden beneath your battlefield. With the Akaku Nuva in your grasp, you will never again be caught off-guard, you need only to pay attention.”

The Toa of Fire narrowed his eyes, sensing the doubt-edged sting of the advice. Composing himself, he nodded a silent thanks to the Turaga before he moved on. Turning at last to Pohatu, Onewa’s gaze hung for a long instant before the words came to him.

“The Kaukau Nuva is a tenacious Kanohi to master, and not a mask that lends itself particularly well to this dry region. However, any Toa who apply the Mask of Water Breathing wisely will find their skills rewarded. To wield its power is to endure the depths of this island darker than Onu-Koro and as cold as Mount Ihu. You must be prepared to delve alone into some of the most inhospitable and unknown regions of Mata Nui. Toa Gali embraces the ocean depths. Even without her Elemental Powers she is still one with the rising tide and crashing waves. To use such a Kanohi is to attune oneself to the very substance of this island. To master this mask, Toa Pohatu, you must detach yourself from the world of land you think you know and embrace the unfamiliar. You must learn to accept the winding waterways and coastal tips of Mata Nui as your battleground.”

“But Kanohi Nuva alone will not be enough to defeat the Bohrok-Kal,” said Lewa, an uncharacteristic desperation in his voice.

Onewa nodded humbly, gazing into the sky and smiling at a distant cloud with an expression of melancholy.

“I understand that it is no easy thing to be without power,” he hedged, a hint of familiarity in his tone. “To call out to the wind or the ice only to be ignored? To sense rumbling tremors in the ground or the coming of a flood but be unable to prevent it? This has been the fate of the Turaga for the past 1000 years. It is surely enough to make any Toa question his — ”

“— relevance,” finished Pohatu.

“I suppose so,” chuckled the elder with a distant melancholy. “But do not let despair enter your mind, Toa. Look instead to the brave villagers of this island, who have thrived on these shores for centuries without the elements at their command. They have laid great traps and tamed wild Rahi, using their knowledge of the land and their ingenuity to win their freedom. Surely it will take no less for you to defeat the Gahlok-Kal?”

At the mention of the Matoran, Pohatu unconsciously looked for Hafu among the crafters, recalling the Matoran’s selfless attempt to block the Tahnok advance with his prized statues. Lewa too felt his expression lift somewhat, thinking of nimble Kongu taking to the skies to defend Le-Koro from Nui-Rama when he could not. Tahu nodded his understanding, though it was clear to his teammates he remained unconvinced by Matoran heroics.

“I have every faith that great Matoran and Toa will prevail against the most insurmountable of odds. Your destiny is greater than any of you could possibly imagine. You are not meant to fall at the hands of these Bohrok-Kal.”

With those final words, the Turaga of Stone took one dissatisfied look at his incomplete statue then hobbled off back in the direction of the village square, retiring back to his hut for the day.

“Turaga Onewa is not one to give false hope,” murmured Pohatu. “He’s stubborn and blunt at times, but he is direct above all else. He must truly believe in us.”

“Or he just wants us to boot-kick the Bohrok-Kal out of his desert,” retorted the Toa of Air, resting one of his Air Katanas on his shoulder. “Either way, I feel spirit-lifted.”

Tahu remained lost in thought for some time, his eyes surveying the statues of Toa that dominated the quarry for inspiration when at last he caught sight of a lone crafter at work on a particularly ambitious sculpture of a large Rahi. A thin smile slipped across the surface of his Akaku Nuva as he began to feel the rough outline of a strategy forming in his head.

“The Turaga is right,” he said after a long moment of contemplation, craning his neck back in the direction they had last encountered the Gahlok-Kal. “We need to embrace the Po-Matoran principle of Strategy - to make sure the Gahlok-Kal doesn’t complete its mission and locate the Bahrag.”

“Right,” agreed Lewa, picking up on the Toa of Fire’s forward momentum. “We need to deal it such a sorry-bad defeat that it leaves Po-Wahi for good.”

“And to do that, we need to fight like Matoran and make the most of the tools and Kanohi we have,” chimed the Toa of Stone, though less confident than his fellow Toa.

“The Gahlok-Kal has hard-struck Ga-Koro these past weeks,” observed Lewa, the grave features of his Pakari Nuva at last lifting. “If it’s as agile in the water as Gali says, then perhaps it will ground-scout the coasts.”

Pohatu stared blankly at the emerald Toa, then a broad grin crept onto the features of his mask.

“If it does, its search will take it past Leva Bay. Hewkii even tells me it’s the stomping ground of some old friends of ours.”

Nodding his approval, Tahu gazed anxiously out in the direction he believed the Bohrok Hive to be then at Pohatu.

“Are you sure, brother?”

“Of course!” boomed Pohatu, thumping the crimson Toa on his back. “I’m a Toa of Stone armed with a Mask of Water Breathing. Nothing can stop me now!”