Epilogue

Approaching the waystation under the cover of darkness, Atakus was drawn to the burning orange light of the distant campfire. His destination was nestled squarely at the base of a large rock, which possessed the unmistakable likeness of a Sand Bat’s fin against the night sky. Desperately, he trudged his way through the sand and hurried towards the ginger speck.

His contact was waiting for him when he arrived, the outline of his Glatorian form visible long before he reached the rock. They had met several times since the Skrall had migrated south and Atakus now knew him as Perditus, pilot of the Thornatus V9 and Malum’s predecessor among the ranks of the Fire Tribe.

The Glatorian was roasting a piece of meat over the flames. At the sight of Atakus, he reached into his satchel and produced a skein of water, which he thrust into the Agori’s hand.

“Drink up,” he said with a hospitality that Atakus was unaccustomed to. “You’ve traveled far. No Agori should be walking these dunes by foot, Rock Tribe or otherwise.”

The greeting was short, for both Atakus and his compatriot had traveled in secret to meet. At first he hesitated, wondering if perhaps the water might have been poisoned; the Fire Tribe were enemies of the Skrall after all and he had not made an actionable report in some time. Suspicions aside, however, he finally succumbed to desperation and began to drink. His journey through the Wastelands had left him dangerously close to total dehydration.

When he had emptied the skein, he handed it back to Perditus gratefully, then took a seat on the opposite side of the fire. The flames were fueled by the coarse husk of a bleached Thornax Plant and whatever broken pieces of wood were nearby.

“You look worse than usual,” remarked the Glatorian, as the Agori emptied the skein and sat down heavily beside him.

“Could say the same for you,” grunted Atakus, now noticing the deep abrasions along the Glatorian’s armor.

Perditus made a grunt of acknowledgement then returned his gaze to the flames.

“It’s getting harder to travel these dunes unnoticed,” noted the Agori, choosing not to mention how many Skrall had fallen to facilitate his journey in front of the enemy. “It is a rare thing for the paths of any two travelers to cross without reason here on Bara Magna, but now the borders of the map are closing up. There are few places left to conduct our business in secret.”

“You underestimate just how many of Spherus Magna’s relics remain buried beneath our feet,” shrugged the Glatorian, rotating his skewered meat. “The Great Barren is a vast expanse littered with ever-changing hideaways and ravines, not like the ranges of the Black Spike Mountains you are used to. We will have many thousands of years left before others grow wise to our activities.”

It seemed a questionable pairing to the casual observer, but they shared a connection no two other denizens of Bara Magna could attest to: fealty to the last living Great Being.

For thousands of years, they had operated in the shadows on opposite ends of Bara Magna, gathering information on their respective regions and guarding the secrets of the Great Beings’ civilization wherever possible. To this end, Atakus had taken great lengths to report on the various splinter factions of the Skrall in addition to the planet’s Baterra population, a feat that had only gotten more difficult with the Rock Tribe’s migration south. Perditus had assisted him on occasion, patrolling the Wastelands for signs of the rogue mechanoids. As an added precaution, the Glatorian refused to carry weapons. He instead favored the ranged artillery of his Thornatus V9, which appeared to be unusually well-hidden that evening.

“Our mutual friend is accelerating the plan,” said Atakus with an oily murmur. “It seems events are already in motion.”

Perditus nodded grimly, as though he had just received solemn news he had been anticipating for some time.

“We’re not ready,” he muttered, lowering his skewer and allowing the flames to light up his expression. “The location of Angonce’s Laboratory, the Spirit’s Wish, and Marendar’s Prison are still unknown to us, not to mention the unresolved crucible of tribal tension that is Bara Magna these days.”

“He has accounted for this and more,” shrugged Atakus proudly. “These steps are not necessary to his plan. You know this as well as I do.”

Clenching his jaw in frustration, Perditus shot the Agori a look of reproach.

“He seems to be relying quite heavily on this Mata Nui,” grunted the Glatorian, taking a hearty bite out of the meat, which had grown crispy over the course of their conversation. “With so many variables in play, so many rivaling factions and rogue elements, how can he believe the tribes will pull together?”

“It is as he so often says,” said Atakus with a wolfish grin stretching across his helmet. “A tornado soothes to a gentle breeze only as temperatures cool…”