The Fourth Swing
Makuta stood in front of the mirror, admiring his new armor: it was almost entirely made of gold, though a few plates of purple had been left in place. He and Ekimu had been given nearly identical suits by the Protectors of the six villages as thanks for the many masks they had provided to Okoto over the years. While he had never done it for the reward, this sort of recognition was still very nice.
He stepped out of the mostly empty hut he was staying in and looked around the Village of Earth, picking out a few familiar faces in the crowd. He had not been here since the Protector's funeral, and it was nice to be back again under happier circumstances. The armor presentation ceremony was over, but he and Ekimu had decided to stay for a few more days, just to get reacquainted with their old home.
As Makuta walked through the village, many of the people he passed smiled at him, nodded, waved, and the like; he acknowledged their gestures kindly. There were a few, however, who seemed to grow wary when they saw him. One villager even turned and went the other way. Makuta tried not to pay it much mind, but it still nagged at him for some reason.
He eventually came to the meditation garden and sat down on a patch of grass, hammer set across his lap, and watched the people go by. Everyone wore a Mask of Power, something that even now made him happy. He recognized all the designs that want by and was pleased to see that most of them had been made by Ekimu, while those made by him tended to be worn by older villagers, especially the ones that had known them when he and Ekimu had lived in the Region of Earth. Whenever he travelled to one of the regions, this was a trend he noticed—if anything, Ekimu's masks were even more popular in other regions, where none had prior experience with either Mask Maker and simply chose the mask they liked best. Ekimu had noticed this as well, and was thrilled that fortune was smiling on his craft at last.
Makuta chuckled as he thought of this. I'm happy for him.
As he continued to watch the crowd, however, he began to feel just the slightest bit frustrated. While he was certainly happy for his brother, he would still have liked to see a few more of his masks being worn. He set this disappointment aside, telling himself that he would just have to try harder.
"Excuse me, Mask Maker."
Makuta turned to see the new Protector of Earth, a short fellow with black and purple armor, as well as two large, spiky plates of silver upon his shoulders. Attached to his chest was a blaster, and he wore a mask with the same design as the one Makuta's father had worn, only this one was black with purple along its top edge. Ekimu had replicated the design (with slight alterations) and given one to each of the Protectors, imbuing them with the tiniest amount of one of the island's six Elements. He had said that, as his parents had passed the mask on to him, he wanted the Protectors to pass it on to their children as well.
"Ah, Protector!" Makuta said, getting to his feet. "What can I do for you?"
"If you don't mind, could you come with me? There's a matter I think you should be made aware of."
Makuta frowned. Curious, he followed the Protector, and was led out of the garden and towards the center of the village.
"A few months ago, one of our villagers snuck off to the Temple of Time," the Protector began. "When he returned, we punished him at once—we told him that it was wrong to trespass on sacred grounds without express permission from myself, but he did not seem to care. We did what we could and sent him on his way. Around that time…people began to speak ill of you, Mask Maker."
"They did?" Makuta said. "Wait, do you mean the both of us?"
"No. I have yet to hear Ekimu's name be slandered, but there were a small number of people who appeared to be spreading poor word of you and your work."
His frustration rose a bit, but Makuta quickly calmed himself. "Hmm. Well, Ekimu's work has been more popular for some time now. It's a natural shift in public opinion."
The Protector looked up at him. "I fear it is much graver than that, Mask Maker. They started assaulting those who wore masks of your design, saying that you were an inferior craftsman not worthy of your title. According to these few, since none will take your work anymore, it just piles up in your forge, and that you are now simply a Mask Hoarder."
Makuta stumbled a bit. True, he had a few extra masks lying around back at the forge, but that was hardly enough to be considered 'hoarding'. On top of that, how would anyone even know something like that? Few ventured to the forge directly, and only the Protectors or the injured were allowed inside.
That's just…ah, pay it no mind…
"I do not mean to alarm you, Mask Maker: these degenerates are few in number, and I have done everything in my power to quell their ravings. The only reason I bring this to your attention now is because of a recent…rather disturbing development."
They had now reached the Protector's office, a large hall with a gabled roof supported by four white columns. Inside were walls lined with portraits of the previous Protectors, polished floors covered by beautifully woven rugs, and various trophies forming two lines from the entryway to the door that led further inside. The Protector stopped near the middle of the lobby and took a deep breath.
"The villager who went to the Temple—we have reason to believe he was the one who started this talk. We went to confront him about this, but…we found him dead."
Makuta stepped back. "D…dead? What killed him?"
"We're not entirely sure. There were holes in his shoulders, and they appeared to be burned, but…the burns were worse inside of his body rather than on the outside."
Makuta looked at the floor. "Burns inside him…and it sounds like whatever it was found a way out."
"We do not know what any of this means, Mask Maker. But, it would appear that you are somehow linked to it, so I thought it best to warn you. My mother would never forgive me if I withheld information from you."
Makuta looked to the portrait of the previous Protector, the only one depicted wearing a mask. He smiled. "She was a good woman. I know that she raised you well, and I believe you will become a great leader of this village. Thank you for warning me, Protector."
With that he departed. As he moved through the streets once again, he could not help but linger a bit more whenever he saw someone eyeing him cautiously.
Makuta climbed up onto the stage and took in the view. The sun was just about to set, so its red rays were making their last stretch across the black rock, as if to coax some of it into joining the trip beneath the horizon. The forum was not scheduled until next week—he had checked to be sure—so there was little chance of him being interrupted here.
"I knew this was where I'd find you, brother."
Makuta turned around. Ekimu approached, gold and blue armor shimmering.
"Ah, Ekimu! I was wondering if I would run into you sooner or later. I figured we would both be taking a tour of separate places."
Ekimu stepped up next to Makuta. "We were very different from each other then, weren't we?"
"I wouldn't say that. We've never been that different, really, we just chose different ways to invest our time."
Ekimu laughed. "I suppose so. We were certainly equally stubborn."
"Yes, but at least I grew out of it."
"Oh-ho! Are you trying to imply something, brother?"
"Not at all, brother, not at all."
Ekimu slapped Makuta's shoulder. "That's what I thought."
They laughed.
"…You know," Ekimu said, "all day I went around seeing everything that had changed since we lived here. I thought about how strange it all felt, like this wasn't the same place I left. But up here, taking everything in at once…it doesn't seem like anything's changed at all."
Makuta nodded. "I know what you mean. On the surface, a lot is unfamiliar. But if you look closely enough, you can see that this is still, and will always be, our home."
They stood in silence for a while.
"I wouldn't be here like this if not for you," Ekimu said. "This mask you gave me changed everything."
Makuta's thoughts cut back to what the Protector had said. Blinking, he said, "This is an accomplishment to be shared, brother. You need to take the credit that you are due. You were the one who figured out how to refine our art and imbue masks with the power of the Elements, after all."
After a short pause, he added, "Ekimu…you visited the Temple of Time once, didn't you?"
"Hm? Yes, I did go there a few years back. Why do you ask?"
"It's been on my mind lately. I don't recall you saying a whole lot about your experience there."
Ekimu planted his hammer in the ground and leaned on it. "Hmm…even now it's a little difficult to put into words. Something about just being in that place is overwhelming in a thrilling sort of way. I went in and found a nice spot to meditate, and before long I was entranced."
"Was your meditation productive?"
Ekimu grinned mischievously. After glancing around, he whispered, "I've been dying to tell someone, but you must promise to keep it a secret, alright?"
Makuta leaned in closer. "Alright, I promise."
"As I was meditating, I heard something. There were six voices, all of them chanting something. A prophecy, I suppose."
Makuta looked at him in awe. "And you've told no one of this?"
Ekimu shook his head. "What I heard was very specific. It needs to be saved for the most dire situation, and even then, I think I'm only supposed to reveal it to the Protectors."
He frowned. "Truthfully, while it is quite exciting…I hope that time never comes."
Makuta nodded. "I see. Is that why you took those six Golden Masks you created and hid them around the island?"
"I just had a feeling that precautions should be taken. Those masks are very special, and I have to make sure that only the truly worthy can claim them."
Turning to Makuta, he asked, "Come to think of it, I noticed that the Golden Mask of Skull Spiders disappeared a while back. Can you tell me what happened to that?"
Makuta smiled and turned to the horizon. "I'm sure you've heard the stories about the monster guarding the Ancient City?"
"The Lord of Skull Spiders?"
"I gave it to him."
"…What?"
"He's already their leader, more or less, and if he guards the Ancient City then he must be a noble creature. As it seemed to me, that mask belongs in his possession."
"Can he even wear a mask?"
"I'm not sure, actually…but, he took it, so I'm sure he sees a use for it, whatever that may be."
"Well, alright…"
Ekimu stretched. "You know, if you're interested in the Temple of Time, maybe you should go there? Just ask the Protector before we leave; I'm sure he'll give you permission."
Makuta nodded once. "…Yes. I think I will do just that."
The tall, box-shaped Temple of Time reached up into the sky, segments of its dark walls glowing with ethereal blue light. A pendulum could be seen emerging from one side, then the other, then the first again at regular intervals, with a distinct clunking sound accompanying each swing.
Makuta stepped inside. The interior was gray and ancient looking, bordering on decrepit. Glowing glyphs were carved in rows on the old stone, and the pendulum routinely swung through the center of the chamber. Several staircases were built into the walls, leading up to some circular platform high above. Makuta didn't see a reason to climb them.
So, Ekimu walks away from here with a prophecy…and another villager comes away from here bearing hatred towards me. I've heard that this is from where all time on Okoto flows, but why would it bestow things on the people who come to see it?
Walking closer to the pendulum, Makuta sat down and closed his eyes. He felt the air on his body as the pendulum rushed past him. Soon he was caught up in the rhythm, and found himself in a calm trance, mind open and reaching out for whatever answers he would be given.
Black flames sprang from the upper level and travelled down the pendulum. When it next swung past Makuta, they leapt onto him.
Makuta felt a terrible burning rush through his entire body in an instant. By the time his eyes shot open, the flames had disappeared within him, and the burning ceased abruptly. Clutching his head, Makuta grabbed his hammer and tried to stand, but he tripped, and his mask was knocked off when he hit the ground. After groping blindly for it, he pulled it back into place, and then managed to get up and stagger out of the Temple.
He paused a moment, and then immediately headed in the direction of the forge. He wanted to get as far away from this place as he could, to forget that he had ever even gone there, because in that one, terrible moment, he had felt a desire in his heart to create something that he knew would be an absolute abomination.
A Mask of Ultimate Power.
