CHAPTER FIVE
Dawn was beginning to break when they heard the cry. All of the Matoran villagers rushed out of their huts to see Tahkon on the ground, withering in agony. He was murmuring to himself; the only words anyone could make out were "Mallake," "Red Star," and "Artakha."
The village's local healer, a Vo-Matoran named Elrisa, rushed over to him but could find no physical wound. She looked up at Dasan with a frown.
"I don't know what's ailing him. He seems to be healthy...."
"Physically, perhaps. But not mentally." Emerging from the gathered crowd was an old Matoran of Psionics known as Zaedra. She knelt down next to Tahkon and touched his forehead. "He's been mentally assaulted. By what, I do not know."
Dasan walked over to the strange Matoran and bent down beside him, carefully turning the crazed prophet's head. Tahkon's eyes were wide and glazed with terror.
"Can you tell us what happened?" the De-Matoran asked softly.
Tahkon did not speak for a long time. When he finally did, he spoke so quietly that only Dasan's acute hearing could pick up his words.
"I saw him...."
"Saw who?"
"Mallake." Tahkon shuddered. "I saw his mask, Dasan. I saw his mask, and... and...."
"And what?" Dasan pressed.
"He is coming, Dasan. He dwells down below, but... he will find a way. He will... find...."
The Matoran fell silent. Dasan saw his heartlight go out and knew that he would not be speaking again.
With a heavy, sorrowful sigh, the De-Matoran straightened up and said, "Dezalk, Velika, take him to the burial grounds."
The two Matoran solemnly nodded and went to perform their morbid task. Dasan turned away in grief and looked out towards the Green Belt. Garan and the others had still yet to return. Would he ever be seeing them again? Or would there be three more names to add to the memorial plaque?
* * *
Brutaka charged through the forest, his Rotating Blades held high. Up ahead were two beings he did not recognize; one was a tall Morcian like himself, clad in black and yellow, while the other was one of Axonn's species, wearing black and dark gray armor.
Still running, he fired a bolt of raw energy from his blades, sending it towards the latter being. The Ankorian deflected the attack with two large blades before firing a bolt of his own. Brutaka attempted to dodge it, but the being's Mask of Accuracy made sure that it hit him square in the chest.
Nonetheless, this did little to impede Brutaka's charge and reached the two strangers' position. He swung his double-edged blade at the Ankorian, who brought up his dual swords to block the attack. As their blades locked, the Ankorian kicked Brutaka in the shin, causing him to stagger back.
Suddenly, Brutaka felt an invisible force push him down to the ground, pinning him there. Unable to move, he did not see the cause of this strange assault until the Morcian came into view, his black mask glowing.
"Mask of Gravity," the Morcian told him, speaking in a raspy voice. "If you ever want the upper hand in a battle, you should get one. It would replace the mask we're going to take from you."
Helpless to stop him, Brutaka could only watch as the Morcian stooped down and removed his Kanohi Olmak from his face. Then, in the blink of an eye, the two beings were gone.
* * *
"Piruk? Wake up...."
The Le-Matoran's eyes fluttered open, though he was forced to shield them from a bright ray of light shining in his face. When his bleary vision finally cleared, he found his friend Dalu standing over him.
"Dalu?" Piruk groaned as he tried to sit up. "I had the strangest dream. There was this tall, ever-creepy being and... and all these Brakas monkeys...."
"It wasn't a dream," Dalu said grimly.
Confused by her words, Piruk sat up and saw that he was in a stone chamber, illuminated by rays of sunlight shining through a large window. Balta and Garan were standing nearby, next to the unconscious body of a being he didn't recognize.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"I don't know what they call this place, but it's home to this group called the Hand of Artakha."
"Artakha? Karzahni's opposite? Are we... are we there?"
Dalu shook her head. "I don't think so. Apparently we're in this invisible fortress just off the Cape of No Hope. Beyond that, I have no idea what's going on."
Piruk got to his feet and rubbed his head. "Any chance we can get out?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. They seem to be debating about their own secrecy and are afraid to release us in case we tell the whole island about them."
Piruk scoffed. "Why would they be afraid of us? We're just Matoran; Matoran with lousy new bodies, to boot."
The Ga-Matoran shrugged again. "We didn't even know they existed until an hour ago. Who knows what their deal is...."
* * *
"We have returned, my King," Banteras announced as he and Fortaan materialized in the throne room. "And we have procured the Mask of Dimensional Gates."
"My, that was fast," King Mathus' voice said, his figure still obscured by light. "I would think Helryx's folk would be better trained in combat, especially for barbarians."
Fortaan snorted. "Or at least be better informed on mask powers."
Banteras stepped towards the bright light and held out the gold mask. A hand emerged and took it. A moment passed before Mathus spoke again.
"Excellent work. At last we shall be able to leave this accursed island. However, we can not do so until Mallake arrives."
Banteras grunted. "How can you be so sure he will? The Pit holds the most dangerous of warlords. If it was that easy to break out of, the Barraki and others would be warring for control of the universe by now."
"Perhaps they are, as we speak," Mathus said. "In which case, it would be the perfect opportunity for Mallake to lead us into the fray and take our rightful place as enforcers of the will of Mata Nui. Any who oppose us- the Makuta, Helryx's order, the Dark Hunters- shall be easily dealt with."
"And the Matoran?"
"They shall see us as the heroes that we are. They will recognize our authority and follow the beckoning of the Hand of Artakha. Those who don't... shall face nothing but a fist."
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