Chapter Text
Pohatu had been lying awake, eyes open, for several minutes before he realized it. The darkness was so absolute that he first mistook it for the darkness of a dream.
Groaning, he pulled himself upright and massaged the back of his head, remarking that his Golden Mask of Stone was still in place. Everything ached at first, but the Toa forced himself to straighten. After a while, the grogginess receded and his senses returned to him.
Pohatu observed his surroundings, probing clumsily around with his fingertips – finding nothing but hard earth. The chamber was damp and musky, with a door on the other side, under which a thin beam of light crept. It was still bright outside, which he felt to be a promising sign.
Shuffling backwards and propping himself against the chamber wall, the Master of Stone allowed his thoughts to wander. So far as he could tell, this was a cell of some sort. Too small to be a dungeon. The walls were forged of the same metallic ore that the rest of the fortress had been hewn from. Impossible to manipulate, though he could still sense a series of vibrations through it. A ghost of an elemental affinity.
Jaller and Takua were nowhere to be seen. Since they weren't being held captive with him, Pohatu could only assume they were being confined elsewhere. Last he had seen either of them, they were getting ready to hole up inside the ruins and wait the battle out. There was no chance they could have slipped through the net that had closed fast around the fortress, so it seemed he had failed them both.
The Master of Stone sighed, thinking back to that frightful look that had gripped Takua's features in the moment of the ambush. A crushing defeat had been dealt. While he was by nature as coarse and resilient as a desert cactus, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in that moment. He was proving to be some legendary warrior.
There was a rattle of feet on the shale outside. Then the footsteps halted outside the cell and the lock rattled from the outside. The door creaked open and the Master of Stone turned to see six Skull Warriors standing in formation, the brightness on their backs burning his optics. They regarded him blankly, one of them shifting aside to let a seventh figure step forward. Narrowing his eyes and adjusting to the daylight, Pohatu made out the silhouette of an emerald-armored villager, a Skull Spider latched to his head. Presumably a local from one of the outlying villages, abducted to guide the Skull Creatures through his homeland.
“The Toa is ready,” announced the Jungle citizen. Judging by his voice, he didn’t seem much younger than Takua, but there was an ancient rage burning in his eyes.
Obeying an unspoken command, the Skull Warriors bowed their heads and parted aside, clearing a path for their commander. A shadow loomed over the threshold as the lieutenant of the Skull Army revealed himself, the intensity of the afternoon sun obscuring his features but Pohatu recognized him instantly.
Skull Basher.
There was eeriness in the figure’s hollow eyes as they locked gazes. Pohatu recalled the last time they had clashed blades at the Forge of the Mask Makers. It had taken the combined efforts of all six Toa to subdue him, and even then this lone combatant had managed to dispatch the mighty Onua with a single head-butt. He was not someone to lock horns with.
The lieutenant stood still, staring at the Master of Stone. Eventually he turned and motioned for the foot soldiers to wait outside. Pohatu watched apprehensively. He felt heavy with fatigue but adrenaline was gnawing in his stomach. He remained seated, as though shackled. He didn't want to risk standing up just yet.
“I still have my mask,” he noted aloud.
“Perceptive.”
The Skull Basher’s voice was worn with centuries of use. Sarcasm did not become it.
“Care to tell me why?”
“Simple,” shrugged the Skull Raider. “You are not a captive, Master of Stone.”
A leaden silence reigned in the chamber. Pohatu regarded the horned figure coolly.
“I visited your homeland,” he remarked aloud. “I know of the Skull Raiders and your alliance with Makuta. I know their intentions and they're far from noble. So why do I get the feeling you don’t share in their hostility?”
The Skull Basher shook his head. He folded his arms behind his back and began shifting across the chamber in a slow pace.
“I allied myself with Kulta the Skull Grinder because it suited my interests to do so. I do not share his devotion to the fallen Mask Maker, and that alliance has served its purpose. I operate in the interests of my people.”
“Then you’re in a unique position,” mused the Master of Stone, stretching to pop one of the muscles in his back. “With the Skull Creatures under a more reasonable hand Okoto might finally know peace. I wouldn't have to worry about any blood-feuds or rivalries spanning across centuries. I could even retire early; kick back on a beach in the Water Region and catch some sun.”
The Skull Basher regarded his words coldly.
“Peace is my intention,” he finally muttered. “Conflicts can be resolved and reparations paid but co-operation is a fanciful notion. It will take many generations for the Okotans to forgive us our transgressions and many years for my brethren to return the sentiment. Such will be the charge of my predecessors. My aspirations are much more singular, and I would believe them noble if you would hear them.”
The Toa paused to consider these words. This was surprisingly reasonable logic and Pohatu wasn’t going to jump to the defense of the Okotans. It had taken him many years to learn that things were rarely so clearly defined as being either black or white. The reality often lay amidst shades of gray. It was best to keep an open mind. So he chose to entertain the Skull Basher’s argument.
“I take it you know who I am?”
The Skull Raider nodded.
“You are Toa Pohatu, Master of Stone, fabled champion of Okoto and, as far as I am concerned, a figure more qualified to broker peace than any Protector this island has spawned.”
Pohatu said nothing. He nodded wordlessly for the Skull Basher to begin his tale.
“Many thousands of years ago, my people migrated to Okoto from a hardier chain of islands in the south. My people pillaged and plundered across continents until finally they settled in the mountains of this land. As was the tradition of so many ancestors, it was not long before the Islanders tasted their steel. They raided many settlements and burnt early villages to the ground in search of mystical treasures.”
Pohatu narrowed his eyes a fraction.
“Of course, the Okotans were a progressive people, even then. They were civilized and self-sufficient, with their measurements, and industry, and promise of greater riches. Over time, I studied their culture and learnt of their prophecies. I saw their Airships and weapons, their architecture and customs. But, most interesting of all, I saw their government.”
“Ekimu?”
The Skull Basher’s features darkened.
“I hope you will appreciate, Toa, that it is easy to make broad, sweeping accusations,” shrugged the lieutenant of the Skull Raiders. “After all, Ekimu did much to advance Okoto. He brought the Islanders together in his city, promising them wealth and splendor for their allegiance and trust. He inspired generations of crafters and brought great advancements at a developmental stage in their history. With his mighty hammer, he forged an imperial dynasty.”
Pohatu said nothing. He just sat in the dirt and processed the words.
“But, until the lion learns how to write, every story will glorify the hunter. Believe it or not, the world does not revolve around Ekimu. Just like the groundwork of his ancient city, the Mask Maker’s empire of industry was built at the expense of his kin. For decades he whispered in the ears of early Protectors and crafting his way to prominence, all the while enacting a grand scheme and fulfilling his own sinister agenda. Even though the legends choose to remember him fondly, I know him to be a merciless and callous adversary. He profiteered off the misery and hardship of his own people, running smaller guilds and businesses into the ground and crushing his competition. I raided many a trading caravan driven by desperate crafters being run out of business by Ekimu's enterprises.”
Pohatu stared at the Skull Basher’s eyes. It was like looking into a bright pair of crimson lights. For such a measured and calculated individual, the Toa wished only that the Skull Raider was less extreme in his beliefs.
“Much the same as my Skull Raider cohorts, he desired to control Okoto in days long-passed, to tame its Elemental Creatures and placate its inhabitants. It was, after all, by his hammer that this island were decimated in one fell swoop.”
“The cataclysm... trapped your people underground?”
The Skull Basher flexed his jaw and nodded, his arms still folded behind his back.
“Months prior, the Protectors had banded together and driven the Skull Raiders underground. The cataclysm barred our escape and collapsed the tunnels to the surface. The ensuing cave-ins devastated my people and starvation became us. With many of our women and young succumbing to hunger, we adopted more barbaric methods, all the while vowing to enact our revenge upon the Mask Maker who had condemned us to such a miserable existence.”
Pohatu tore his gaze away and shrugged at the corner of the room. Said nothing.
“We are serious here,” continued the Skull Basher. “You may look at me and think I am a despot, or a martyr, or whatever the Protectors would label me. But I am not. I am a good leader, maybe even an inspired leader. Call me intelligent and perceptive, I won’t argue with you. But I do not need to be. My people need little in the way of encouragement. They need guidance, and discipline. I am not coercing anybody. Do not make the mistake of underestimating their will. Don’t ignore their desire for a change for the better.”
Already the Toa knew that to defend Ekimu would be to fight a losing argument. Even he had doubts in the Mask Maker, many of his suspicions now realized. The golden-clad elder clearly had a lot to answer for and it was no use debating in ignorance. His words would not move the Skull Raider to overlook centuries of destitution allegedly at the hands of Ekimu, though they made him feel uncomfortable nonetheless.
“Rise, Toa,” instructed the horned figure, offering a hand. “I have much to show you.”
Pohatu hesitated before ultimately accepting. His muscles still burnt and ached with searing pain, but he locked his jaw and struggled to his feet, instantly retracting his hand the moment he was upright. The Skull Basher nodded then pushed the door open. Two of the sentries clattered inside and stood before Pohatu, offering him support. The Master of Stone shrugged them off. Shaky on his feet, the Toa stepped out into the afternoon sun to face the other four Skull Warriors, all lined abreast, Freeze Bows at the ready. Off to the side stood the Jungle villager with a Skull Spider on his face. He swayed limply on his feet, squinting in the light.
In the distance he could see Skull Scorpios patrolling the jungle, their beady eyes and bony features protruding from the emerald undergrowth. Across the broken courtyard, all manner of Skull Warriors carefully scaled the broken tiles and shingle, not even glancing at the bedrock pillar that rose from the center, daring to reach for the heavens. The corpses of the sentries felled by his hands had been moved behind a low-hanging partition, presumably to give them some semblance of dignity in death. A platoon of Skull Warriors milled about in the outer regions of the fortress, hefting large slabs of concrete and wood, busying themselves rebuilding the walls of the fortress. Outside the confines of the structure, a pair of the foot soldiers were busy digging a large hole: a burial site for the fallen.
“These are not your people,” murmured the Toa, eyeing the thralls.
“They are not,” agreed the Skull Basher with a nod of his head. “At one point they lived their own lives and met their natural ends with the terminal sleep that awaits us all. But they are necessary nonetheless. Know simply that my will is more righteous than Makuta’s. I commit my soldiers to the ground once their service is fulfilled.”
The Toa of Stone pursed his lips, regarding the stack of broken Skull Warriors again and feeling a briefest pang of regret.
“You may think my intentions ignoble, Toa,” continued the Skull Basher, “but I am no criminal. When a leader turns wicked it is the most virtuous of citizens who stand up in protest. Or would you think it better we should all act as cowards?”
Pohatu ventured another glace at him. Risked speaking.
“I have conducted a study of tyranny serving under the Skull Grinder,” he continued. “And how to combat it. The first rule is to make a firm decision: either to live free or to die in the shackles of ignorance. The spark of residence burns its embers within us all. It is only natural to stoke it.”
The Master of Stone glanced around the courtyard, scanning for any sign of Takua and Jaller. He enjoyed no reward.
“The second rule is to stand up and deny the enemy control. You study their system and you learn to hate it. And then you act. But how do you act? The brave soldier fights back. He retaliates, does he not?”
“Sure, I guess so.”
“The brave soldier retaliates,” repeated the Skull Basher. “But the soldier who is both brave and clever acts differently. He retaliates first. In advance. He strikes the first blows. He gives the enemy what he does not expect, when and where he doesn’t expect it. That is what I am doing here. I am retaliating first. I am claiming the Golden Mask of Reanimation for my people and striking the first blow against Ekimu.”
“You’re inciting a revolution.”
The Skull Basher shook his head and leaned closer, so that he locked his cold eyes with Pohatu’s.
“I am inciting change, though I suppose they are one and the same when you think about it. Regardless, war is not in my interests. War should always be avoided, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Not necessarily.”
The Skull Basher smiled, his lips pressing against the bony mouthpiece of his Bull Skull Mask.
“You are independent,” he murmured. “Not one of us. Not one of them. No ax to grind. A neutral party with no personal agenda. A Toa, no less. A precise and perceptive individual. So I humbly ask, what say you of my position? On whose shoulders does the weight of true villainy rest?”
The Toa’s gaze darkened.
A premeditated question; the type he hoped any great leader would ask himself, but also a loaded one. The Master of Stone carefully considered the words he had taken in. It was difficult to pass judgement, but it seemed his opinion carried some influence.
“Your concerns are valid, Skull Raider,” he mused. “And I agree that Ekimu is no paragon of virtue. But, in order to truly be justified in your endeavors, you must reject vengeance. So long as you seek retribution, your cause will march backwards.”
The Skull Basher mulled the words over then glanced at the courtyard himself.
“Live free or die, Pohatu. It is a noble aim. You ask a great deal of me when I value my people above my own integrity.”
But the Toa only shook his head.
“You asked for my unique perspective. I have given it to you. I now present you with the opportunity to walk away without the conflict. Swallow your pride and play the long game for a more lasting solution.”
The Skull Basher narrowed his eyes in frustration.
“Your words drip with hostility, Toa. I wonder, perhaps, what has persuaded you from the Skull Raider cause. What makes us less deserving of justice in your eyes? Are we not citizens of Okoto too?”
Silence reigned.
Pohatu sighed.
“I want to trust you,” he confessed. “But… justice is exactly the reason I have to put you down.”
The Skull Basher blinked in surprise then held the Toa of Stone’s gaze for a long and uncomfortable moment. Behind him the reanimated foot soldiers stiffened. In the end he nodded and turned his back.
“Give the order,” he mumbled.
“Seize the Toa!” yelled the Jungle villager, pointing an accusatory finger at the Master of Stone.
Pohatu gritted his teeth and raised his hands. Withered fingers knotted around his biceps, restraining him. As the Skull Warriors tugged at him, he remained unsure whether or not to go quietly. In the end it dawned on him that his aching body could not take the toll of a second battle. Not in his present state and certainly not alone. Reluctantly, he slackened and allowed the Skull Warriors to drag him away, putting up no resistance.
Alone the Skull Basher stood by the broken wall of the dilapidated fortress, gazing out into the abyss of the clearing. His expression was cloudy and his eyes dark. Once he was sure the Toa had been returned to his cell, the Jungle villager ventured closer.
“Not the answer you were expecting, my liege?”
The Skull Raider tilted his head and considered his response.
“I had hoped to find a powerful ally in the Master of Stone. Converting a Toa to our cause would have been a fitting sentiment, after all. But, as any strategist will tell you, one must hope for the best and plan for the worst.”
The villager nodded, the Skull Spider on his face twitching in agreement.
“Did you learn anything from your negotiations with the Toa?”
“I learnt enough… enough to know that the other Masters cannot be so easily swayed from their cause. Ekimu’s lies have penetrated them simply too deep for words to move them from his side.”
“Then they must be crushed,” mused the villager, clasping his hand into a triumphant fist. “The Master of Jungle has already been brought under our sway. One by one the rest will fall beneath the might of the Skull Army!”
The Skull Basher pulled an unsavory expression.
“No,” he snapped. “If the Toa were meant to champion our cause then it would be through their own volition. Be soft, young one. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain move you to hatred as it has moved me. Afford it no such victory. Okoto will have need of villagers like you in generations to come.”
The child swallowed and shifted his stance in discomfort. Ultimately he conceded the Skull Basher’s words as a compliment and decided it best to do as he was told. After all, the Skull Basher knew what was best.
“So how do we stop them from unraveling everything?”
The sound of clawed footfall swayed the Jungle villager to turn his head. Behind him he caught sight of the Skull Warrior platoon, this time dragging the struggling outline of Jaller out of his cell for a second time. Roughly, they threw the wounded explorer down on the courtyard, where he struggled to sit upright and shot his captors an odious glare.
“By exploiting their one weakness,” shrugged the Skull Basher. “Compassion.”
“Is everything alright, brother?”
Kopaka grunted to the affirmative then turned his head again, dodging her gaze.
Gali regarded her fellow Toa carefully as the pair continued their journey. At first they had enjoyed light conversation, which had later trickled away into long periods of guarded muteness before talking had ceased entirely.
Catching his foot on a stubborn root, the Master of Ice dug his weapons into the ground and stopped in his tracks, steadying himself. Gali stopped to offer her companion a hand only for him to mulishly refuse her assistance and carry on walking, avoiding eye contact the entire time.
A mysterious tension permeated the air, the exact cause of which she could not determine. While she had, at first, been willing to dismiss her concerns as the Master of Ice being his usual reserved self, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some other factor at play. Taking one look at her brother and another at the root he had refused to be felled by, the Mistress of Water planted her Power Harpoon into the soil and folded her arms.
“Kopaka… what’s wrong?” she asked steadily, keeping her tone in check but conveying enough iron to get her urgency across.
Grinding to a halt, the Master of Ice tilted his head and peeked over his shoulder at her, his telescopic lenses covering most of his expression.
“We all have our mountains to scale,” he grumbled frostily. “Allow me to climb mine... alone.”
Gali shook her head.
“I have tried to afford you space, Kopaka,” she said firmly. “But I do so sparingly and within reason.”
The Master of Ice said nothing. He just continued to stare blankly into the treeline, his back turned to her.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued. “We all have our demons to quell and our own baggage to carry. You’re entitled to keep your anxieties a secret. It’s your right to do just that. But you don’t get to choose who cares for you. When the weight of your troubles means you can’t function – when your journey gets so arduous that you can’t even recognize me, or Pohatu, or Tahu as your friends – then perhaps it’s time to confide in someone else.”
Her teammate shifted his stance, discomfort written all over his features.
“I’d rather not forfeit my privacy,” he snapped, striding onwards.
But Gali remained rooted in place – resolute. Her fellow Toa made it several steps before it occurred to him that she was not following his lead. He wavered, knowing he had a split-second decision to make. To stop and wait was to confront her while carrying on would hopefully mean the end of the discussion for some time. Suddenly unsure of himself, he hesitated then stopped in his tracks, his defenses brought crashing down. This was a battle he could not win. Gali would uncover the truth no matter what.
“Right here? Right now?”
“This is as good a place as any,” shrugged the Mistress of Water, resting her chin against the hilt of her Power Harpoon. “What troubles you, Toa of Ice?”
Kopaka shot her a searing glare then lowered his head. Deep down he was grateful, but Gali knew he would never admit it.
“I am… struggling,” he finally confessed. “Struggling to understand what it means to be myself.”
The Mistress of Water said nothing, hoping her silence would prompt her fellow Toa to speak.
“As deeply as I crave the opposite to be true, I am ultimately a being ruled by my emotions,” continued Kopaka. “There exists a side of me that is detached and isolated. I desire to lead this team but, at the same time, know that I wish to remain impartial. I am unsure if either side of myself is my truest identity and dissatisfied with this muddled settlement of self I have come to know. It is vexing, to say the least.”
Gali nodded. She scooped up her Power Harpoon and started walking once more. Now that she had cracked Kopaka’s tough exterior he would open up. She knew him well.
“You have been more distant of late,” she murmured, side-stepping a patch of prickly undergrowth. “You say you find yourself caught between two natures?”
“They contend for ownership of my very being,” he murmured uncomfortably. “At times I feel as a stranger within my own skin. I retreat within myself and become abrasive.”
“You catastrophize.”
“I suppose so,” conceded the Toa of Ice. “I had hoped to keep this affair private, for the sake of my dignity. But I suppose no good can come of such inward torment.”
“There is little I can give in the way of advice, Kopaka,” mused Gali, pulling back a tree branch and clearing a path for her brother-Toa to follow. “I cannot pretend to know your pain, nor can I really say I have suffered as you have.”
The Master of Ice nodded.
“Perhaps I can offer a different perspective, though? You see these two sides of yourself as opposites: one half outgoing and fearless, the other introverted and fragile. But is it really fair to say that either of them is your true self?”
Kopaka slowed his pace and narrowed his eyes, his telescopic lenses whirling in accordance.
“What do you mean, sister?”
“Identity is rarely so clear-cut as picking between two opposing natures,” continued Gali. “One is a glamorous aspiration, the other is an unattractive self-image, but they are both equal parts your character.”
“You think I should merge the two?”
“I think you should find a compromise that affords you some peace of mind. Find something that works for you.”
Eyeing a clearing ahead, the two Toa drew their weapons and advanced with caution. Sensing that the conversation had come to an abrupt close, they nodded to each other and fell back into silence.
There were a multitude of shapes jostling in the distance. At first it appeared to be a colony of brightly-armored Okotans. But, as the Toa gained more ground, they soon picked out the mangled limbs and skeletal features of a Skull Warrior battalion.
“We can continue this discussion another time then,” muttered the Toa of Water.
“It would appear these are the ancient ruins Vizuna spoke of,” noted Kopaka, remarking the metallic slabs and broken debris that littered the surrounding undergrowth.
“Any sign of the villagers?”
Before the Master of Ice could respond, both Toa suddenly became aware of a rustling in the undergrowth behind them. A lone Skull Warrior stumbled into view, its empty eyes locking upon their perch. Raising his Ice Spear, Kopaka fired a razor-sharp icicle from the tip, catching the sentry square in the chest and puncturing a hole in its rusted armor.
The Skull Warrior, however, didn’t go straight down. It fought to remain on its feet, angling its Freeze Bow upright and taking aim. At such close quarters, one of its rounds might pierce armor.
Slashing out with her Shark Fin Blades, Gali sliced through the shaft of the Freeze Bow. The Skull Warrior’s arms buckled as the mechanism snapped and fell from its clutches. With its weapon destroyed, the sentry’s jaw dropped open, a wordless shout on its lips, ready to summon the rest of the Skull Army and overwhelm the Toa.
But the warning never emanated from the Skull Warrior’s throat. There was a streak of crimson as something latched around the undead foot soldier’s neck. Realizing that there was somebody standing behind their adversary, Gali and Kopaka shared a momentary sigh of relief. Struggling beneath the weight of golden armor pressing deep into its Skull Mask, the sentry could do little else but watch passively while its neck was snapped. As the lifeless husk of the Skull Warrior fell to the ground, Tahu stood tall. He brushed dirt from the arm that he had used then winked a greeting at his fellow Toa.
“Reunited at last,” he chuckled quietly. “I was starting to think we’d never find each other.”
“Speaking of which,” murmured Kopaka, “isn’t this toolbox short a few blunt instruments?”
The Toa of Fire nodded, the features of his Golden Mask of Fire growing sullen.
“Pohatu’s gotten himself captured. No sign of Lewa or Onua. So far as I can tell, Takua and Jaller are inside the fortress.”
The Master of Ice raised an eyebrow.
“How do you know this?”
“I’ve been watching,” answered the Toa of Fire with an idle shrug before growing serious. "Looks like Skull Basher’s alive and kicking, though."
“Fantastic,” grumbled Gali, craning her neck to get a better view.
Kopaka regarded his fellow Toa skeptically.
“You hung back?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s just… unlike you.”
“I felt it was best.”
The two Toa regarded each other coolly before turning to Gali. She was watching them both with a broad smile across her Golden Mask. She didn’t need to say what was on her mind.
“Come, brothers,” she crooned. “Let’s see if we can’t form a plan to rescue these villagers – together.”