Disclaimer: I do not own Bionicle, or its parent company. This story was created for the entertainment of the writer and the readers and does not reflect anything on Bionicle, Lego, or any of its affiliates.
She was bruised and battered, but she wasn't going to allow it to stop her. Kezoa shook her hands out, loosening the muscles, and rotated her shoulders around. She held in one hand a Kanoka disc launcher while its ammunition was inside of the compartment in her back. How she managed to not only fit the discs as well as her spear would forever be a mystery to her. But as to why she was holding in her hand a disc launcher—a weapon she had very little experience with, in contrast to her spear—was going to be revealed very soon.
Kezoa glanced around. The terrain around her rolled and banked in sheer cliffs, hills, and sloping depressions, and all of it was rock-solid. She had fallen multiple times, or had gotten thrown to the ground, and could attest to its stiffness as well as its durability.
She couldn't see him anywhere.
Then again, though, he had moved since she had last managed to land a hit on him. Kezoa lifted two fingers to her lips and blew out a stark whistle. The ground beneath her feet began to pulse and shake in a rhythm similar to a heartbeat. Based upon her general information she gathered from the sound and frequency as well as the strength of the vibrations, she knew that Beowulf was coming, and he was not far off. She saw a wisp of movement in her right peripheral vision, and she quickly whipped around to see her target vanish into the hills.
"Beowulf, hurry up!" she yelled.
She heard a snort, awfully close, and Kezoa turned and saw her loyal pet galloping toward her, three or so paces in front and away from her body as not to collide with her. He continued running, even as he neared. He wasn't going to stop, and Kezoa was going to have to try and attempt a moving mount.
Kezoa switched her hold on her disc launcher and extended her right hand, reaching out. Beowulf, without slowing, strode by her, and when he did Kezoa's fingers latched onto the corner of his shoulder blade. Before she even made contact with him, Kezoa coiled her legs quickly and sprang, swinging her left leg over Beowulf's flank, which slapped against his side and Kezoa found herself sitting upon his back.
Yes! Success!
She didn't pause to cheer, but quickly moved the launcher back into her right hand, reached into her compartment on her back with her left, and pulled out a random disc, hoping it would do the damage she needed it to.
As she loaded the launcher, she and Beowulf rounded a hillside, and within a crater between hills her target stood, still running away like he believed he had a chance.
Kezoa lifted the launcher at the ready, steadied it with both her hands, wrapped her finger around the trigger, took aim, and fired.
The disc shot out of the launcher with little recoil, it blazed over to her target painting lines of energy across the air as it flew straight and true—and flew past the mark.
Her target was forced into a spin from the amount of force generated from the gust of wind blowing past it, but the crudely constructed protodermis dummy straightened out and though now it rolled backwards on its set tracks it still moved unharmed.
Kezoa hissed in frustration. "Aw, sh—!"
She couldn't finish her curse, however, as Beowulf's left fore claw caught against a raised hexagonal column that was jutting out a little too jagged from the mimic hillside. Beowulf uttered a squeak of surprise and tripped, somersaulting head-over-heels into the arena floor, throwing Kezoa off his back just before he could squish her. She did a full front flip in the air before landing flat on her stomach, the disc launcher clattering out of reach as the wind was knocked out of her.
There were several cries of sympathetic pain and alarm that came from a distance as Kezoa, huffing hard, got to her hands and knees.
Beowulf warbled and moaned, he flipped over onto his stomach and immediately began to tend to his wound, licking his now hangnail claw as if it would help any. Kezoa looked behind her at him to make sure that he wasn't further injured before snapping, hurt and breathing hard:
"I'm…fine…too…thanks."
Beowulf looked at her and gave her a chirp, then returned to his licking session. Kezoa flapped an arm at him in annoyance and staggered to her feet.
Four Matoran—one from Po-Metru, another Ga-Metru, and two from Ta-Metru—raced over to Kezoa to help her up, even though she was already halfway there.
"Are you alright, Toa?" the Ga-Matoran asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine…" Kezoa coughed, managing to get some air back.
"That was one of your coolest wipeouts yet!" the Po-Matoran cried.
"Yeah! Next to the one when you fell off a cliff and landed on the dummy's head before doing a handstand and then falling onto your back!" his Ta-Matoran friend cried, the Po-Matoran beside him bust out laughing.
The Ga-Matoran and the second Ta-Matoran glared at the other two as they helped Beowulf to his feet and retrieved the disc launcher.
"If you're not going to make yourself useful, Hewkii, then you may as well flatten the arena once more!" the Ga-Matoran admonished to the Po-Matoran. He rotated on his heel and raced back towards the area he had just come from, leaping into the lower balcony behind a control panel which looked to be an exact mimic of the field, just ten times smaller. His fingers hovered over it for a moment, searching for something on its face, before he touched the highest point on the mini-arena.
The hexagonal panels shook beneath Kezoa's feet, and the pillars that rose high into the air slowly began to sank, their sides rubbing against one another as they lowered into the floor, once again becoming a flat surface.
"Shall we try again?" asked the Ga-Matoran.
"No," Kezoa said, shuffling over to the disc launcher and picking it up, "I think I'm done for the day. Beowulf looks finished too."
Beowulf stood up and gingerly put his weight on the injured paw. When it passed his pain test, he licked the paw and swiped it over his forehead and eyes, like a cat.
"Are you sure?" asked a Ta-Matoran, "You've only just started practicing; the suns are barely in the middle of the sky!"
Kezoa lifted her hand above her eyes and shielded them from the light as she looked up. The suns were indeed in the middle of the sky, but she didn't just start practicing. She had been training in the arena before the Matoran got there; she had woken up early specifically so she could train, except those practices that she had performed by herself were not a test of her long-range weapon capabilities, as well as her aptitude to fight while upon Beowulf's back, but they were a test of her own skills—specifically, her newly discovered ability to alter energy, and turn it from passive into active and vice versa.
She wasn't sure what she could do with her powers, but what she did know was that she can muster up enough to nullify a fully mature force-sphere. But Kezoa was focusing her abilities on one area—the combat aspect. Picking things up and throwing them around. So far, she hadn't had much luck with it.
If she couldn't figure it out, then she couldn't use her powers to protect herself and the Matoran, even though Maltegere had not surfaced for quite some time now.
"I'm good." Kezoa told the Matoran, "I'm going to find the Turaga and see if they have anything they need me to do."
"Looks like you don't have to!" Hewkii yelled from the balcony, pointing.
Kezoa turned to where Hewkii was directing to, and from one of the many entrances that led into the arena, Turaga Onewa of Po-Metru staggered out, limping towards them with his cane.
"Ah," he said with a smile, "I was told I would find you all here."
"Honored Turaga!" the Matoran cried, quickly bowing in respect as he approached, Kezoa following the motion.
"Kezoa, I have been told that you are training here to better use your abilities."
"You heard right, Turaga." Kezoa nodded. Hewkii had sprung out of the balcony and was running towards them as fast as his legs could carry him.
"And how has that been going?" Onewa cocked his head to one side.
Kezoa peeked out of the corner of her vision at the backwards dummy, still standing. She sighed and slumped, shaking her head in disappointment.
"Not very well, I'm afraid…"
"Do not worry," Onewa assured, "if you work at it hard enough, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."
"Thank you, Turaga…." Kezoa sighed. Not exactly what she wanted to hear, but it would have to do.
"Did I catch you at a bad time?" asked Onewa.
"No—I'm done for the day." Kezoa said.
"Then I am in need of your assistance," Onewa began, "in Po-Metru, we are about to make very important steps in construction."
"Construction? Of what kind?" Kezoa knew that the Po-Matoran belonged to the carving class—they created sculptures and building parts that were used all around the Metru.
"Very important." Onewa stated solemnly, nodding.
Kezoa looked down at the Matoran, and they looked back up at her as Hewkii ran up beside them. They were just as confused as she was.
"Alright…?" Kezoa urged.
"We are about to build a critical structure in Po-Metru. If it is successful, then we will proceed to build one in every Metru. Toa Pohatu and a survey group of Matoran have begun scouting the Canyon of Unending Whispers, up north in Po-Metru. I would like you and Hewkii to meet up with them and assist them with their analysis."
"Me, Turaga?" Hewkii pointed to himself.
Onewa nodded again, "I figured you could guide Kezoa to Po-Metru, since she had not been there before, and also assist in the survey group as well. I request that you leave as soon as possible."
"Thank you, Turaga." Hewkii and Kezoa bowed.
Onewa gave a stout nod—his third one—and turned around to begin hobbling back towards the innards of the coliseum, no doubt to hold conference with the other Turaga and then head to Po-Metru himself.
"You guys going to be okay while I'm gone?" Hewkii asked teasingly.
A Ta-Matoran elbowed him playfully, "Yeah, we'll be fine. Try not to be gone too long, though."
The Matoran laughed amongst each other and Kezoa walked over to Beowulf, lying on his stomach and basking in the suns on the now flat floor. She knelt down and checked the injured claw; there was a thin ring of blood where the claw met paw, but it already looked like old blood. Beowulf was a hardy beast; he often got hurt, since he was big, a goofball, and often times glaringly clumsy, but nothing was ever too fatal for him.
"You ready to go to Po-Metru, Beowulf?" she asked.
Beowulf chirped and licked her cheek with the tip of his tongue.
Kezoa motioned Hewkii over, and he hurried to her side. Kezoa gave Hewkii a leg up, letting him mount Beowulf first, and then taking Beowulf's muzzle in her hand. She made a clicking noise in her mouth, pulling Beowulf in the direction she wanted to go. Beowulf complied, clomping slowly behind her as they headed towards the large entrance leading into the elevator. The Matoran waved goodbye to them as Kezoa pulled the lever next to the door into the downward position. The now working elevator shook to life, having been thankfully repaired a while ago, and they plunged down to the ground level of the coliseum. Beowulf had gotten used to the shift of gravity within the box, and he no longer jittered anxiously whenever Kezoa led him up and down the many levels of the coliseum. When they reached the ground level, Kezoa maneuvered Beowulf around the other clustered Matoran bustling about, doing their own work.
Reaching the outdoors, Kezoa released Beowulf's nose and slid her hand along his flank until she came to a space just behind his ribcage. Kezoa raised her arms up and jumped, locking her elbows on the other side of Beowulf's side. She used this leverage to boost a leg up and come to an upright sitting position behind Hewkii.
"Alright, Hewkii;" Kezoa said, leaning to the side slightly to look at him, "tell us which direction we're going in."
Hewkii lifted his finger and pointed to a region off to their right. "Po-Metru is one of the northern regions of the city," Hewkii said, "next to Ga-Metru. Except, Ga-Metru is in the north-east and Po-Metru is in the north-west."
Kezoa shifted her weight, using her body to push Beowulf in the direction Hewkii was pointing.
"North-west it is." She said. She slapped her ankles against Beowulf's flanks, and he took off in a loping gallop towards Po-Metru.
()()()()()()()()()()
Their entry into Po-Metru was evident when the highway leading into the Metru vanished and was traded with rough rocky paths bordered with towering cliff faces. As Hewkii lead Kezoa and Beowulf deeper and deeper into the Metru, the canyon that was the city regularly transformed from wide corridors to not so much ones, and then sometimes they broke away completely to reveal vast expanses of fields, with soaring pillars of stone raising high into the air, Po-Matoran working around and even on them. They cut through several carver settlements, always slowing down to a walk.
She found the entire Metru amazing. Its inhabitants were gruff and always seemed to be bending over a crafting table, Kezoa was amazed regardless at their devotion to their craft, and the landmarks were absolutely astounding to her—massive statues and other items that, she was told, were related to construction around the island littered the sculpture fields in a feeling of controlled chaos.
Though the entire Metru was a canyon, Hewkii told her that they were headed to the northernmost tip of the island, to a large chunk of the city dubbed the "Canyon of Unending Whispers."
"The back story to that place must be charming…" Kezoa had muttered.
After many more impromptu tours through sculpture fields and carver settlements, all taken a relatively quick paces, when they entered the canyon, it became clear that it wasn't a canyon; it was a labyrinth.
The hallways were very tight to squeeze through—Kezoa had to slow Beowulf to a walk in order for her and her company to be able take the tight corners that were often present around every bend. The canyon had many dips and climbs, and in some places, there were even enormous, open-skied sections that were multi-tiered terraces; walkways suspended over one another, leading to different pathways cut into the walls. Several times, these bridges gave out beneath them, and they had to either sprint across the bridge to avoid getting caught in the downfall or select a different path.
All during this fantastic quest, it soon became evident to Kezoa that Hewkii didn't really have an idea where he was going.
She didn't say anything at first, but when they entered into a particularly claustrophobic vicinity of the canyon, just after passing one of these multi-leveled clearings she began to have her doubts.
Hewkii was looking around at their surroundings, and he had been doing this ever since they entered the Canyon of Unending Whispers. Beowulf was getting nervous for some reason, and Kezoa increasingly felt trapped.
When she had enough of the quiet game, Kezoa leaned over slightly.
"Hewkii, how much farther do we have?"
"Well, Turaga Onewa said that the survey group was centering their search particularly in the northern tip of the island," Hewkii said. He tried to sound confident, but his voice cracked at the end of his sentence, "so it stands to reason that we're…uh, headed that way, of course!"
"Uh-huh…" Kezoa nodded.
She peered over Hewkii's side and saw Beowulf's tongue hanging out of his mouth, its tip nearly touching the ground.
"Hey, Hewkii, how about we find a clearing and give Beowulf a breather?" she asked, gesturing towards Beowulf.
Hewkii nodded all too eagerly.
"No problem!" he said.
Several twists and turns later, Kezoa, Beowulf, and Hewkii came across a break in the close-fitting canyon walls; it was a relatively medium sized clearing, but it was big enough for Kezoa to move Beowulf off to the side and allow him to sit down and take a break. There were boulders and pebbles littered all across the scene, and Beowulf selected a spot in the middle of rounded stones, digging out a little nest for himself and nestling into the makeshift alcove.
Kezoa leaped down, Hewkii jumping off before Kezoa could offer him a hand. Immediately, Hewkii went to the center of the clearing and propped his hands on his hips, looking up into the distant sky as if he were trying to gather his bearings. Kezoa lifted her arms in the air and pulled her muscles, stretching her legs and standing on her toes.
I feel like I've been inside a car for six hours…Kezoa thought. She began to take an easy stroll around the berth of the clearing.
"Hey, Hewkii," Kezoa asked casually, "do you have any idea where we are?"
"Yeah, yeah; sure I do!" Hewkii waved a hand nonchalantly in her direction,"I mean it's my own Metru, for crying out loud! I may have been going back and forth between here and the coliseum, but it's no problem, really—!"
Kezoa cocked her head in Hewkii's direction, cocking an eyebrow and giving him a knowing look.
"…You know I'm winging it, don't you…?" Hewkii asked cautiously.
Kezoa shrugged, "Maybe. My sense of direction is pretty terrible, so we could be lost and I wouldn't even know it."—even though she did, she grasped with a quickly suppressed with a start—"Are we?"
Hewkii stood there with a sheepish expression on his face, as if torn between something. He sighed and slumped.
"Yeah. I don't know where the heck we are."
Kezoa pursed her lips and nodded. She took a couple steps more as Hewkii trudged over to Beowulf and plopped onto his behind, slouching against Beowulf's back. Kezoa looked around the arena indifferently, contemplating what they would do next. It was possible to scale the walls of the clearing, to try and get a better view of where they are, but Beowulf couldn't climb sheer cliff faces, and Kezoa couldn't stand the thought of leaving him behind.
So instead, when Kezoa spotted a stone that stood on its end, pointing to the sky, Kezoa decided to try something.
Kezoa turned her mask on and pulled a fist up to her cheek before violently lashing out, releasing a small amount of energy that she had been storing in mask. It visibly cut through the air and made a loud whipping sound, causing both Hewkii and Beowulf to jump as it hit the stone she was aiming at. The stone wiggled, swinging back and forth as if a slightly strong gust of wind had hit it. She hissed and snapped her fingers in frustration.
"Are you trying to knock that stone over?" asked Hewkii.
"No; I'm trying to move it." Kezoa said, "I'm going to lift it up and see if I can throw it out of the canyon."
"That shouldn't be too hard," Hewkii said, coming back to his feet and coming up to her to watch, "have you been practicing?"
"I did. Just this morning."
Apparently, after she used her Toa power—taking energy into her body and shaping it as she liked before bringing it out again—there was a significant cool-down period. During her training courses, she regularly tested the limits to her power in an attempt to shorten the amount of time her mask (or, possibly, her body) needed to recover from the massive amount of energy used to take in and alter the likeness of it around it. If she went too far beyond what she could do, she would pass out and wake up hours later, like what had happened in Le-Metru, after she had destroyed the force-sphere. It had gotten better, both her stamina and the length of time needed to regenerate, but not by much—it had decreased from three day's worth down to twenty-four hours, depending on the amount of energy used and the amount needed.
During her secret pre-dawn private session, she had used her power enough to move a massive statue around the coliseum arena without passing out, she knew that it would take quite some time before she could use it again, but she wanted to change that.
"I have to shorten the cool-down time," Kezoa told Hewkii, "I have to—especially if I'm going to use it in combat against the Makuta."
Hewkii's eye ridges drew together as he stared at Kezoa thoughtfully.
"You think you can do it?" he asked.
"You bet."
Kezoa raised a hand, holding her palm outstretched to the stone. She tightened the muscles and ligaments in her fingers, willing for the stone to move.
Move, she commanded internally, move, move, move, move…
Her mask hummed, Hewkii watched, and Beowulf sat behind her silently. Her concentration was completely focused on the pebble before her.
Move, move, move, move, move, move, move…
She was beginning to tire. Her vision began to blur and warp, her knees began to quiver, and her extended hand started to shake. Kezoa ignored it and continued focusing on the stone, willing it to move, or levitate, or something.
Beowulf started to whine behind her, and Hewkii turned around to see what the matter was.
"What's up, Beowulf?" he asked, "WHOA—!"
Suddenly, there was a shove to her back and Kezoa's concentration was broken, her mask switched off as she went tumbling into the ground. It wasn't until she tried to get back up from being belly-down in the dirt that she realized just how much energy she had inadvertently used. She could barely move her limbs, and all her muscles felt sore, as if she had used all of them in however long she had tried to move the stone.
"Are you okay?!" Hewkii cried, coming to her side and helping her up, "Beowulf just nosed you!"
"That smarts…" Kezoa hissed, forcing herself to roll over and gently take to her feet.
Beowulf whined again and tapped her back again with his nose. She was nearly forced into the dirt again before her flailing arms grabbed onto his muzzle.
"What's the matter, boy?" Kezoa demanded, irked that her practice and thought process had been interrupted.
The Rahi continued to whimper; he was shifting his weight constantly from foot to foot, and his tail was poised and taught, as if ready to strike while his gaze flicked all about the canyon they were in. Hewkii looked around too, but when he looked back to Kezoa, his expression was as befuddled as hers, and he shrugged in confusion, jerking a thumb in Beowulf's direction.
"Beowulf, wha—?" Kezoa started.
There was a loud but distant crack, followed by an equally loud sound of a rattle, which caused both Kezoa and Hewkii to jump ten feet in the air. Shortly afterward, there was a hiss and the sound of scales moving against rock—noticeably close to where Hewkii, she, and her Rahi were currently standing. Beowulf yelped and whipped around, beginning to sprint away from the noise. Without meaning to, Kezoa instinctively grabbed Beowulf's tail when he turned, and she found herself being dragged along as he began to sprint back out of the canyon, while Hewkii was left to give chase.
"Beowulf, what's gotten into you?!" she cried. She tightened her grip on her familiar's whip-like extremity and locked her knees, digging her heels into the dirt and forcing Beowulf to stop or risk having his tail pulled off.
The Rahi yelped in pain, he quickly did a sharp turn, his body ramming into the wall and slamming him to a halt. Kezoa released the tail and collided into Beowulf's midsection. His legs pumped and his claws scratched at the ground in a frantic attempt to get going and run away again, and Hewkii arrived on the scene panting hard and shouting about something. Before Beowulf could tear away again, Kezoa lunged over to his head and grabbed his muzzle tightly, pulling his head to the ground to keep him from getting up.
"What's wrong boy?!" she demanded.
"Kezoa!" Hewkii shouted, coming up to her side, "Kezoa, I know that sound, I know—!"
There was another crack-rattle sound, considerably closer, and Beowulf howled and tried to break his nose free from Kezoa's grip.
"Stop it!" Kezoa hissed.
His hype infected hers, and when a large, solid object came to a thump in the sand beside her calf, Kezoa shrieked and threw herself into the wall, releasing Beowulf and he took off before he ended up slamming into the dead-end that he had accidentally led them into.
With Beowulf out of the way, Kezoa saw what it was that had landed next to her when Hewkii picked it up and cupped it in his hands, holding it out to her.
It was a ball of some sort—it was larger than a baseball, but smaller than any other ball larger than that. It was made out of metal—or whatever could be considered closest to it here—and had bands molded into the ball that stretched all across its diameter crisscrossed around each other, with short red lines etched into its surface. It was well-used, as it was dented in a number of places and shiny scratches dotted its surface.
"What is it?" asked Kezoa, drawing closer.
Hewkii grinned up at her, "It's a kohlii ball!"
Kezoa heard a whistling sound, and she looked up just in time to see a large brown shape hurtle down from a cliff top and land solidly next to her and Hewkii.
"Toa Pohatu!" Hewkii cried out as Kezoa impulsively jumped backward to avoid getting flattened by the much larger and heavier Toa. Behind Pohatu, four Matoran of two different Metru's were scaling down the cliff that Pohatu had leapt from, and Kezoa was surprised to see that there was an entire crowd of Matoran teeming at the edge of the cliff, watching.
"Hey, Hewkii!" Pohatu boomed, "Nice catch with the kohlii ball; it flew out of bounds."
"Out of bounds?" Kezoa asked.
Pohatu started at her presence, then grinned wildly and walked over to her.
"Hey, little sister!" he thundered, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in tightly for a side-hug. All the air inside Kezoa's lungs escaped her in a big rush, and she stood on one foot trying to keep her balance. She must have looked like a strangled fish in Pohatu's arm, "It's been forever! It's good to see you alive and moving around!"
"Yeah! I'm glad to see you too!" Kezoa wheezed. Pohatu released her and she sucked in a big breath of air. She noticed that Pohatu had a long wooden pole in his hands, and at its top was what looked like a steel hammer head, while on its other end there was a scoop. Upon a quick glance, Kezoa saw that Pohatu was not the only one who was holding this mallet; the Matoran climbing down the cliff also had the hammer-looking poles in their hands. What in the world were they for?
Meanwhile, Hewkii's face had turned hopeful, and as the four Matoran that had scaled the cliff came running down to meet them, Hewkii looked like a child at the prospect of Christmas as he asked: "Are we finally going to build a kohlii field?!"
Pohatu grinned and nodded, releasing a cheer from Hewkii as he threw the ball in his hands in the air. The Toa of Stone easily caught it and he bounced it in his hand as he turned to Kezoa.
"We were practicing in a potential site for the new arena," he told her, "but the field is too small; it wouldn't work to have both the arena and seating in such a small space."
"What's kohlii, though?" Kezoa asked dubiously.
Hewkii's cheering ceased and his mouth dropped.
"You don't know what kohlii is?!" he demanded, "Did they not have it on your island?!"
"Well—?"
"Kohlii is only the best sport ever!" Hewkii cried, "It's a sport that requires two players: one to hit the ball around on the arena ground, and the other to guard the goal! It can have any number of teams, and the first team to get the most points wins!"
"Ohh…" Kezoa nodded.
Beowulf moaned piteously. Kezoa swiveled her head around and saw her pet getting up on his feet shakily. He looked up at Kezoa and whined.
"Come on, buddy!" Kezoa waved.
"Whoa!" A Matoran cried, "Is that really your Rahi?!"
"Yep, that's Beowulf." Kezoa grinned; she looked up at Beowulf and saw him beginning to walk towards them, trudging as though he were walking through a swamp.
"Is he okay?" A Ga-Matoran asked.
"Yeah, he's just playing it up." Kezoa said, shaking her head, "He's pretty tough."
Several long tumbles and falls off of the simulated cliffs in the coliseum arena could attest to it, she knew. However, the group of Matoran—Hewkii included—either didn't hear her or didn't care and ran over to Beowulf to help him. At the sight of the Matoran, Beowulf ears perked up and his mouth opened in a smile, his tongue lolling out as he started to pant excitedly like a dog, his tail waving. When they came within reach, Beowulf began giving them his saliva spa treatment, and nudging them with his nose in an attempt to play.
"He's much more sociable than the tales that I've heard." Pohatu said from behind her.
Kezoa gave him a glance and shrugged. "He's gotten a lot better." She said, "Normally, he wanders around Ga-Metru, and before he didn't really like being touched without his consent. But for a while now he's been living at the coliseum with me, helping me train. He's had plenty of time to get attention from the Matoran, and it certainly gave them something to do while they waited for sports to come back."
"I bet it did!" he chuckled, "What about you? Did your home have sports?" Pohatu asked.
"Yeah," she answered, "we had a bunch of them. Not like kohlii, though…" She had played sports in her human past, soccer being the most prominent, but the last time she even kicked a ball was when she was twelve, and based upon Hewkii's description it sounded like a mix between soccer, polo, and maybe a little bit of baseball.
"Did you attend any of them?"
"Only one." She answered absentmindedly as she watched the Matoran clamber over Beowulf, "But that was a long time ago, before I was—"
Kezoa stopped herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth, averting her eyes from Pohatu. She had nearly let it slip.
"—before you were abducted?" Pohatu asked. There was nothing cheerful about his tone; he was being totally and honestly solemn. Like pity.
She waited for a little, and then walked over to where the Matoran were tending to Beowulf.
"Yeah." She answered flatly.
()()()()()()()()()()()
"This looks like a good spot!" Pohatu proclaimed.
Kezoa glanced over. Their exchange long forgotten, Kezoa traveled with Hewkii, Pohatu, a somewhat calmer but still jumpy Beowulf, and a cluster of varied Matoran—most of them Po-Matoran—that traveled around the canyon, searching for an ideal place to make an arena. She carried a kohlii mallet resting against her left shoulder, since having been given a spare one by Pohatu after she had found Beowulf and the group decided that they had needed to move on. She repeatedly told Pohatu that she didn't need the stick, but Pohatu insisted that she have it and wouldn't take no for an answer. Kezoa had tried to continue the argument but it soon became apparent to her that she was only spinning her wheels, so she gave in and now she was carrying the mallet as they entered the new potential arena site.
The setting was smack between two towering solid protodermis cliff faces that made up a corridor of the Canyon of Unending Whispers. The cliff faces were normally just far enough apart from each other that they could fit everyone and Beowulf comfortably within the walls, and now they had entered into a large cylindrical clearing. It was three times larger than a tennis court, albeit round and not square, and the top yawned open to display the perfect blue sky and the two bright suns peering down at them from the blue.
Kezoa held a hand over her eyes and wandered over to the group of Matoran and Pohatu as they debated over the quality of the site.
"It's big, for starters," one was saying, "certainly big enough to support multiple teams during tournaments."
"We'll have to carve goals and seating," a Po-Matoran pointed out, "but I think that it'll be much easier to build it into the rock face than carve it in Po-Metru and bring it over here."
"That will take time, though…" someone muttered as Kezoa came up alongside them.
"Anything worth effort will take time." Hewkii pointed out.
"Well, there's only one way to find out;" Pohatu said, "let's have a match! The first team that makes two points wins!"
The Matoran cheered in agreement, and the entire group scattered, swarming around the arena. In a blink of an eye, goals—a large gateway made of sticks leaning against opposite ends of the clearing—were set up, two teams were determined; two Po-Matoran on one, Hewkii being one of the players much to her surprise, and two Ga-Matoran on the other, and before Kezoa knew what happened the goalies stood ready in front of the goals and the players stood in the middle of the arena, preparing for the game to start.
Kezoa quickly ran off field and over to Beowulf, who was lying against the far wall and sucking up the attentions of the Matoran that were with him. Kezoa plopped down and leaned back against Beowulf's chest as still more Matoran clambering up to sit on Beowulf's spine. The two playing Matoran, Hewkii and a Ga-Matoran, crossed sticks in the middle of the field, wishing each other luck in the upcoming game. Kezoa settled herself into her seat and nestled into the crook between Beowulf's forearm and body as she watched Pohatu, who bounced a kohlii ball in his hand once before throwing it into the arena.
Instantly, the arena shot to life as the Matoran around her cheered and the players zipped across the field, looking impossibly fast despite their stubby legs. Pohatu slowly rounded the entire arena, keeping an eye on the proceedings of the game as something close to a referee.
A Ga-Matoran had the kohlii ball. She was hitting it around with her mallet, avoiding the advances of Hewkii while running towards the rival goal. The Matoran guarding it crouched in a preparing stance, as if ready to spring and knock the ball away with his colorful round shield. In a desperate attempt, Hewkii swung around her front and tried to use the scoop end of his play stick to grab the ball, but the Ga-Matoran was prepared for it, and she too used the scoop end of her mallet to fling the ball high into the air.
Hewkii went skidding across the ground, and before he could get back on his feet, the Ga-Matoran gave her hammer a mighty roundhouse swing. It contacted the kohlii ball, causing a loud crack akin to a bat hitting a baseball. Beowulf's head popped up as Kezoa flinched, her hands partway to her ears. The kohlii ball made a rattling sound as it flew, near invisible, but the Po-Matoran goalie saw it coming, and he leaped up into the air and smacked the ball away from the goal with his shield.
The ball flew to the right, and Hewkii, who had been on the ground a second ago, now dashed after it like a dog after a rabbit, and he succeeded in catching it and tapping it with his mallet towards the other end. Less than halfway across the field, Hewkii extended his left leg, brought the play stick up parallel to the ground, and swung the hammer-side down and hit the kohlii ball. It soared into the air, and the Ga-Matoran goalie was obviously not expecting him to make a shot so far away from the goal. She started and then jumped to try and throw the kohlii ball out of the danger zone, but it was a hard and fast hit, and while she leaped spread-eagled the kohlii ball soared over her shoulder and slammed into the cliff wall within the gateway area.
"GOAL!" Pohatu roared, stopping where he was and pumping his fist in the air. "One point for Team Stone!"
The observing Matoran screamed with gusto, and Kezoa was astonished at how into it they were.
"How long did that take?" Kezoa wondered aloud, not really to anyone. A Po-Matoran, jumping up and down on Beowulf's back and yelling in excitement, started and looked down at her.
"What?" He asked, having not heard Kezoa in his adrenaline pumped state.
"How long did that first match take?" she asked again, "That couldn't have been over five minutes!"
"It wasn't." He assured, "Depending on the skills of the players, kohlii matches can last from a couple of seconds to over several hours. That's why there are several odd numbers of rounds of kohlii, to see which team can score the most points first. This is hardly a proper, official match—it's only to see how well of an arena this setting would make."
The kohlii ball was retrieved by the Ga-Matoran goalie, and she used an underhand toss to give it to Pohatu, who waited until the players were good and ready in the center of the field before he flipped the ball into the air and then tossed it once again between them.
With renewed conviction, the Ga-Matoran went after the kohlii ball again, but instead of heading straight to the opposing team, she instead made a feint as if she was going to the opposite end, but as soon as Hewkii turned around to try and head her off, she made a quick left turn and ran towards that end of the field. For a moment, Hewkii was befuddled, but only for a moment. He took up his pole and sprinted as fast as his little legs could carry him, but he didn't head straight for her; he ran toward the goal, keeping an eye on her the whole time.
The Ga-Matoran made another swing, hitting the ball with her mallet to make a goal on the far left side of the field. Kezoa saw the goalie hold his shield up to knock the kohlii ball back, but Hewkii came out from his trajectory and caught the ball with the scoop. He swung it down towards the ground, and when it dropped onto the floor he quickly switched ends and began tapping it across the arena. But the Ga-Matoran was light on her feet, and apparently a quick study—she followed the same idea that Hewkii did, and she ran on an intersect path that brought her right where she wanted him.
She made a beeline for the ball, and she skid straight across Hewkii's path, using her scoop to swipe the ball out beneath his nose. Hewkii made a squeak of surprise as the Ga-Matoran hit the kohlii ball with her hammer and ran back towards Team Stone's goal. Hewkii tried to recover as quickly as he did in the first match, dashing madly after her. He was three strides away from her when she picked up the kohlii ball with her toes, did a back-flip, and flung the ball into the goal. It came straight for the goalie, but he didn't react as fast enough as he did the first time, and though he lifted up his shield, the ball blew past it and hit the goal.
Pohatu's proclamation of the point was drowned out by the Matoran all around the arena, which was saying something.
Team Blue had scored a point, bringing the total score up to a tie. The next team to make a point settled the match.
I don't think it ever was really about which site would be most worthy for a kohlii field, Kezoa thought with a grin as she watched the stomping, screaming, smiling Matoran, I think that was decided the minute we walked into the clearing.
But it didn't matter, and Kezoa didn't really care if it did, because the third match had already gone underway.
Pohatu used the scoop end of his oversized kohlii play stick he held to toss it into the play field, and both Matoran made a mad grab for it with their mallets. The one who ended up nabbing though was Hewkii, and he wasted no time blasting past his opponent, hitting the ball over to the goal like his life depended on it. The Ga-Matoran was quick, but when she made a swing to flick the ball out of her opponents stick range, he swung the mallet back and smacked the ball in the direction of the goal, reminding Kezoa of a croquet game for some reason, just as the Ga-Matoran player's hammer whizzed by it. However, Team Blue's goalie was quicker on the draw, and instead of using her shield, she made a risky move and instead of bouncing the ball back into play, she actually caught the ball in the scoop end of her play stick.
The Matoran around the arena cheered in amazement as the goalie flung the ball back towards her teammate, who also caught it with her scoop end and threw it onto the ground, switching back to the hammer and bringing it back over to Team Stone's end of the field. The goalie took a guarding stance and held his shield at the ready, and he was prepared when the Ga-Matoran player once again kicked the kohlii ball in the air and swung her mallet like a baseball bat. It collided against the ball and shot towards the goal, the ear-splitting CRACK-rattle hurt Kezoa's ears, and suddenly beside her Beowulf began to whine.
Kezoa was startled back into reality—she was amazed at how, despite not knowing the sport at all, she had become deeply immersed within the game play—and she turned over to Beowulf. His ears were back, his nostrils were flared open and he was sniffing deeply as he cast his gaze furtively about. There were quite a bunch of Matoran sitting with Beowulf, but not all of them noticed his behavior. Those that did though were looking back and forth from him to Kezoa uneasily.
"Beowulf?" Kezoa asked, reaching up and placing her palm against his cheek, "What's wrong?"
There was another CRACK, and Kezoa turned just in time to see Hewkii, after watching his opponent, pull off the same move that the Ga-Matoran player did; the baseball bat maneuver. The Ga-Matoran goalie was obviously startled by this, but this time she did not allow it to affect her as it did the first time, and she lifted her shield and managed to guard against it.
However, there was a lot of force and energy put into that throw, and when the kohlii ball hit the shield, it slammed the Ga-Matoran into the goal and the ball itself hurtled straight towards Pohatu.
"POHATU, WATCH OUT—!" Kezoa surged to her feet, and though he was on the complete opposite end of the field she still tried to step forward to help him.
Pohatu Nuva, however, did not need the help as he quickly pulled his kohlii play stick back behind his shoulder and threw the hammer-side down. The mallet connected with the kohlii ball, and if Kezoa thought that the hard hits made by the Matoran were loud, Pohatu's was much louder. It sounded like a fighter jet had broke the sound barrier fifteen feet over her head, and Kezoa halted in her tracks and clapped her hands over her ears, as did the entire Matoran observers within the vicinity did. Beowulf howled in musical harmony and the kohlii ball sailed into the atmosphere and back into the direction they had come, deep into the Canyon of Unending whispers.
For a moment, there was only shocked silence as Kezoa, mouth agape, stared into the blue sky where the kohlii ball had been moments before. She took her hands away from her ringing ears and slowly turned to look at Pohatu.
He was still frozen in post-stroke position, hammer touching the ground (where an impact crater had formed) and one foot suspended in the air to keep his balance. His eyes wide and his mouth in a startled frown—the kind that someone made when they realized they had made a mistake the second after they incited the act.
He glanced quickly around the arena, although most of the Matoran's attention was still on the space where the kohlii ball had been blasted, and hid the play stick behind his back.
"Whoops."
()()()()()()()()()()
Kezoa's ears were still ringing, but the shock had long since died down. The kohlii ball had been knocked out of bounds, and it had been decided that though it had happened, the site would be a worthy spot to construct the first kohlii field.
"We've been through five other potential sites already," Pohatu told Kezoa, "and this one is the one that looks the most promising."
"I think it's a good idea!" Hewkii agreed enthusiastically, "It'll look just like the one in Ta-Koro!"
"That's the design the carvers tell me they're going for." Pohatu nodded. He had slung his kohlii stick across his shoulders, propping his arms on it and hooking his elbows on it in such away that his wrists dangled and the stick remained lock behind his neck.
Kezoa tapped her foot and looked around.
The Matoran, particularly the Po-Matoran and Ta-Matoran, in the vicinity were scaling the walls and discussing amongst themselves. The Po-Matoran and the Ta-Matoran were carvers and blacksmiths of a kind, respectively. The two Metrus were more often than not in direct trade with one another, as either the Ta-Matoran got their raw materials from Po-Metru or vice versa. She figured that they would be working very closely together on this project.
"When do you think the field will be up?" asked Hewkii.
"If everything goes off without a hitch, then it should be done in a month or so. Maybe less than that, if the Po-Matoran are motivated." Pohatu said.
"I sure hope so!" Hewkii said, "I can't wait to start playing kohlii again!"
Kezoa turned to him, "You must love kohlii a lot, Hewkii, to be saying that."
"I'm sure I'm not the only one!" Hewkii answered, grinning. He jumped in excitement and ran over to his fellow players that were conversing with one another some distance away. Kezoa realized that Beowulf was no where to be found.
Where in the world did he go? She thought in frustration.
"Hey, sis," Pohatu walked up beside her and nudged her with the end of his kohlii stick. When she looked up at him he had a somewhat apologetic look besides his normally cheerful disposition, "sorry if I touched a nerve back then—I wasn't thinking it would still be a touchy subject with you."
Oh, he's talking about that…
Kezoa opened her mouth habitually to tell Pohatu it was fine, and that it wasn't a big deal, but a knot in her chest stopped her before she could get the words out. The words died in her throat before they materialized, and Kezoa sealed her mouth shut.
She was still sensitive about it.
But why? She thought, It's been a while since then; I haven't kept track of the time, but I know for a fact that it's been a long time since I got kidnapped and…changed.
Kezoa almost raised a hand to look at it, but she realized where she was at the last second, and that Pohatu was still watching her, waiting for her to respond. She clenched her fist instead and looked away, her mind furiously coming up with an acceptance to his apology that would be able to go past mental the filter put up by her trauma.
Pohatu sighed deeply and kicked a foot back and forth.
"Hey, Kezoa, I—"
A scream broke the peace within the arena. Immediately, all conversations ceased and eyes were turned to the area where the sound originated from—the entrance to the arena, where they had came through some time ago.
Kezoa's eyes were glued to the entrance, and Pohatu and the Matoran beside her remained silent as they watched. Rapid, heavy footsteps began approaching, and Pohatu switched his kohlii mallet with his dual claw-like weapons. She followed suit and slowly raised her hand to clasp her spear, her own kohlii mallet gripped tightly in her off hand.
Before she could grab the spear however, the figure belonging to the footsteps materialized and an enormous object blasted into the arena, blood trailing in its wake. The Matoran yelled and surged into the walls to get out of the way, Kezoa leaped backward and Pohatu flung his climbing claws, but he missed, thankfully, as the creature that had barreled into the field was none other than an injured Beowulf himself.
He was breathing hard, his tongue hanging out from the side of his mouth, having either run from very far or very fast or possibly even both. What disturbed Kezoa the most though was the blood that was streaming from two long lacerations that stretched all the way across his right flank, from his shoulder blade to his hip. He was limping as well, favoring that side. Beowulf had ducked when Pohatu had thrown his climbing claws, and he staggered around to no particular area, disoriented.
"Beowulf!" Kezoa screamed. She dashed over to him, holding her hands out to him, "What happened?!"
"LOOK OUT!"
Kezoa peered behind Beowulf and her heart skipped a beat as the screaming Matoran scattered from the monster that had just entered—or rather, slithered—into the arena.
It was an enormous, rock-colored boa constrictor snake of a Rahi. It slid on its belly across the ground, and when it entered the arena, it raised itself up to a height of about thirty feet high. It had no organic components to it—the body was completely covered in armor, even the underside, but what was most intriguing about its design was the lack of perceptible eyes. Its head was just a smooth dew-dropped shape, from its tip a tongue darted out and whipped around, tasting the air.
"SCRAMBLE!" Pohatu roared, throwing his arm into the direction of the as of yet unexplored exit of the arena. The Matoran immediately began swarming toward the vicinity, the snake starting and looking around as if it was surprised by the flurry of noise.
"Come on, Beowulf," Kezoa murmured to him, rounding to his side and wrapping her hands around Beowulf's cheeks, getting ready to lead him out, "we gotta get out of here as soon as possible."
Kezoa pulled her Rahi forward with great resistance on his part. It was not on purpose, she knew, since he still favored his right side, but it was not making things easier.
"Kezoa!"
She looked to her left, where the sound had come from. Hewkii ran over to her, several Matoran trailing behind him.
"Quick, get on Beowulf!" Her Toa instinct activated and Kezoa released her Rahi and crouched down, offering a leg up to the smaller beings who took her up on her proposition. One by one, Kezoa lifted up a total of seven Matoran onto Beowulf's back before she stole a quick glance at the snake-like creature.
It was still looking around, searching for pray she assumed, but with a start she realized that they were the only ones left in the field.
Kezoa slid the kohlii stick into her back compartment and lurched over to Beowulf's nose and clasped his muzzle. She leaned her cheek against his and murmured to him in an attempt to keep him calm and quiet as they staggered painfully slowly around the deathtrap.
The snake stuck its tongue, searching. It didn't seem to notice them, and though Beowulf was moving along with heavy, deliberate footsteps, and the Matoran were too petrified in fear to make any noise whatsoever, the snake did not seem to notice them.
Keep going; we're almost there! Kezoa urged onward, to both herself and for Beowulf.
Of course, since she said that, the universe had to make the opposite so.
Hewkii staggered abruptly to the right when he skipped a beat in his walking pattern. Hewkii and the other Matoran lurched in that direction, and in the process, one of the Matoran tumbled out and flopped onto the ground, the kohlii balls that he had been carrying in his pack spewed outward, emitting sharp rattles that caused Kezoa whip her head around to check the snake.
It had heard the noise.
Its head split open to reveal two long fangs as it drew its body into the arena and coiled tightly into a striking position.
The adrenaline began to surge as Kezoa whipped around to the fallen Matoran. The snake darted forward and Kezoa yanked both her and the Matoran backward. The snake's nose plunged into the hard rock, crushing several unfortunate kohlii balls that had been in its path. As the snake attempted to pull out of the ground, Kezoa leaped onto Beowulf's back with the rescued Matoran in her arms. She leaned forward into Beowulf's body, nearly sandwiching the Matoran between her and the Rahi, and slapped Beowulf's shoulder hard.
He surged to life and loped forward just as the snake's nose broke free of the ground and tried to charge them again, slamming into the ground where they had just been. Beowulf's gait was very awkward, and it took everything in Kezoa's Rahi piloting power to keeping him straight as they galloped out of the arena and back into the Canyon of Unending whispers. They ended up getting into a bigger mess than they were in before.
The path was winding, and very curvy. Kezoa had to take the turns as fast as she could without crashing into the walls with the snake coming down hard on their heads. She could hear it ripping past the walls behind them as Kezoa directed injured Beowulf turn after turn. He seemed just as motivated to live as she was, and he darted around the corners so fast it was as if he was born to do so. It still wasn't enough as Kezoa could hear the snakes approaching sound grow louder the longer the chase was prolonged.
The snake slunk up behind them; Kezoa could feel it's breath on the back of her neck when she saw a hand out of the left corner of her vision. She cast her eyes over and saw Pohatu leaning out of a corner into some sort of cavern. Quickly, Kezoa leaned hard to the left, Beowulf following the motion of her body and coming to a halt to make a quick turn. It was a risky maneuver; the snake was right behind them, but just before its fanged mouth could close on them, Kezoa pushed Beowulf forward and they rocketed into the cavern where Pohatu and the other Matoran were hiding, the quick stop causing Beowulf to throw his passengers off of his back before landing on his injured flank. Beowulf gave out a squeal of pain before Kezoa rounded about and wrapped her arms tightly around his muzzle, sealing his jaws shut and stopping the sound.
The snake's enormous body continued to bear down the corridor until it came to a stop.
Kezoa, Pohatu, and all of the Matoran within the cavern inhaled deeply and froze.
The snake's body began to move; it was turning around.
Kezoa reached behind her to pull out her spear, but with a start she realized something:
It wasn't there.
Her heart skipped a beat as her mid frantically began retracing her steps, trying to figure out when it was she had been so stupid enough as to leave her spear behind as she watched the snake's camouflage stone body undulate and warp as it turned backwards itself.
Did she drop it? Did the surprise of the Rahi snake's attack cause her to drop her spear and leave it at the kohlii field, like Pohatu did with his climbing claws?
It was possible…but the theory disproved itself when the truth was revealed:
She had woken up early from a nightmare that morning, and she could not go back to sleep, and so she decided that she would create an impromptu training session. She was half asleep when she got up—and she had left her spear in its designated corner in her living quarters. She had forgotten about it when the day began and she was put under a training regimen…and it was still standing there, in its corner, left stupidly by its owner when she left for Po-Metru.
I'm an IDIOT!
The snake's head came into sight, and Kezoa prepared for the worst to happen—but it never did. The snake tasted the air, and then slithered onward; unaware of its quarry hidden in the cavern it had just passed by.
In disbelief over what occurred, Kezoa's mouth dropped as she watched the snake's body recede and taper off until its tail disappeared from view.
"It's still looking for us," Pohatu whispered.
Kezoa whipped over to him, "What was that thing?!"
"Not sure." He shook his head, "No doubt some creature that had been hibernating until it was roused."
"By what?!"
"Don't know that either."
"I've heard about it!" Hewkii hissed, "It's the Blind Wyrm, the only one of its kind—it is an ancient creature that sees with sound, and it uses it to hunt when it's not hibernating! Onewa said that it was one of the most notorious killers in the canyon—it devoured everything and anything that created noise, including Matoran! He thought that once we had returned that the Blind Wyrm would have long since died because of lack of food!"
"Well, that theory's been shot down." Somebody grumbled.
"Is it venomous?" Kezoa demanded, remembering the wounds on Beowulf's side.
"No; it doesn't use venom to hunt—its fangs are just that: fangs. They don't serve any purpose other than to cut into food."
Kezoa sighed in relief and gave Beowulf's head an assuring scratch. He whined in response, his tail flicking.
"Did we wake that thing up?" a Matoran asked frantically, they all gathered around Beowulf and Kezoa to better be heard by one another so as not to speak too loudly to bring the monster back.
"I think so;" Pohatu said, kneeling by Kezoa's side, "you all did hear how hard we were beating those kohlii balls…"
"That's probably what drew it to us." A Matoran said grimly.
"How do we beat it?" asked another.
"We'll have to sneak around it," Pohatu said, "and go get help into a settlement."
"But what about the kohlii field?"
Pohatu looked up at all of the expectant faces that waited for his response. Kezoa watched him, seeing what he would do. His face bore the expression of deep internal strife, and he shook his head and murmured softly:
"I can't fight the Wyrm without my climbing claws, and since that thing can blend in with the rock, I don't even know if I can find it again until it's too late. Without weapons to defeat that Matoran-eating creature roaming the canyon," he said, "we'll have to abandon it and look somewhere else."
Kezoa looked over at the Matoran at the response. Their faces dropped, and many of their heads sagged to look down at the floor, Pohatu included. Kezoa looked down at Beowulf, scratching his muzzle to keep him comfortable, which he probably wasn't. Kohlii obviously meant a lot to the Matoran…they had been rebuilding the island city for as long as Kezoa had known, and they were no doubt looking forward to the sport. Kezoa knew that when he was younger, despite always moving around, she knew for a fact that no matter where she went, she was always excited to get signed up for the local soccer team. Even though she was inactive now, she knew just how important it had been to her, and it broke her heart just imagining how the Matoran and Pohatu felt.
There's gotta be something…
The Blind Wyrm used sound to navigate, and no doubt to hunt. That was what drew it do them in the first place; the sound of the kohlii ball was no doubt what had drawn it to them. Beowulf had obviously known, and that was why he was freaking out. But why did he leave the safety of the arena? Did he try to run? No; it couldn't be. He would have tried to leave in the direction of the exit, not back into the canyon where the Wyrm no doubt had been slithering around. Did he attempt to fight it and run back when the attempt went south? Or was he trying to lead it away?
Lead away…? Kezoa thought. She twisted around to look at the entrance to the cave. If it was hungry, then it would follow whatever sound it would think would lead it to its next meal. Maybe even…
"Hewkii," Kezoa turned to the crestfallen Matoran. He started at his name and looked up at her, "Can Blind Wyrms swim?"
Hewkii gave her a strange look, Pohatu looked up at her with the same expression. "I should think not," he replied, "why?"
Kezoa turned to Pohatu, "Do you still have your kohlii stick?"
Pohatu nodded, reaching behind him and pulling it out. Kezoa drew out her own and shifting its weight in her hand. She turned back toward the Matoran.
"Do any of you still have kohlii balls?"
A Matoran started and reached into the pack hanging from his back. He rifled around it for a while before he pulled out a brand new kohlii ball.
"Perfect." Kezoa nodded, "Then we've got a chance to save the kohlii field!"
Instantly, the whole group's head shot up.
"You've gotta plan?" Pohatu asked.
Kezoa flashed him a smile, "I should hope so."
()()()()()()()()()()
Kezoa peered up over the edge of the canyon wall. She hadn't done this before, and scaling it's sides had been a little more than challenging for her, but her work was rewarded when she saw to her relief that the Sea of Protodermis was not too far off from where they were now as of that current moment. Its slivery surface glimmered in the hot evening air, and night was very close to falling, but now that Kezoa knew the location of the sea—and the routes to which carved deep into the top of the canyon—they were one step closer towards victory.
"This may just actually work!" Pohatu hissed loudly from an adjacent end of the canyon.
Kezoa swiveled her head around, searching the area to see if she could get a fix on where the Blind Wyrm was. It took some searching, but she spotted movement midway between them and the kohlii field site. Focusing more, she saw that the Blind Wyrm was there, and it was sliding around on its belly, still searching for them. She could hear its scales sliding on the rock that it was rubbing against, and it was headed ever so slightly away form them.
If the kohlii field was to be saved, then the Blind Wyrm had to go.
She turned to Pohatu, gazing off in the same direction she had, a hand over his eyes.
"You ready?" she whispered.
Pohatu turned to her and nodded, drawing out his kohlii stick and brandishing it, turning it thrice in hand. Kezoa looked down at the cave mouth where they had been moments ago. Hewkii was peering up at her, looking nervous. She gave him thumbs up and he ducked back into the cavern.
Good, now we won't have to worry about them later.
Beowulf was with Hewkii and the other Matoran in that cavern, out of the way so that when the snake came, it would blaze right past them without a second thought.
Kezoa hefted her own stick in her hand. Easy does it, now…you're not playing the actual game, you're just playing a simple game of lacrosse. Catch! That's all…
Pohatu pulled out a kohlii ball stored in his back compartment, as well as several spares that had been borrowed by the other Matoran. If this plan worked, only one kohlii ball would be lost—tumbling down to the depths of the sea, with the Blind Wyrm following close behind…where it would drown, and never again be a threat to the Matoran.
Pohatu bounced the ball in his hand. He held his kohlii stick ready, scoop end at the front. Kezoa mirrored his stance and nodded.
Pohatu threw the ball straight into the air; he swung his mallet at the precise moment and caught the ball in his scoop end, throwing it across the canyon corridor that separated them. Kezoa lifted up the scoop of her stick and caught it. Before she could relish in the victory, the sound of scales scraping against stone caught her attention. The snake had taken the bait, and it was headed straight for them.
"GO!" Kezoa yelled, running forward along the edge of the canyon and throwing the ball.
Pohatu caught it with his stick. He spun around and used the momentum to throw it back at her. Using the hammer end of the stick, Kezoa hit the globe and it went spinning across the gap between them. The snake was following close behind, and its head went back and forth as it tried to track the sound.
Kezoa looked up at their destination—it was rapidly approaching, and she and Pohatu led the blind snake through the winding twists and turns of the canyon. They came closer and closer to the sea, and they only nearly messed up twice, when Kezoa hit the ball too weakly and Pohatu had to bend down to hit it back. She was doing pretty well, considering.
It's just a game of catch. She continued telling herself.
They reached the mouth of the sea of protodermis, where the canyon road split into a delta.
"It's all yours, Pohatu!" Kezoa yelled at him, tossing the ball back.
Pohatu caught the ball and threw it into the ocean. It made a slapping sound, which the snake followed.
She was still running across the edge of the canyon, too busy watching the snake when she slipped. She shrieked in astonishment as she plummeted down the cliff face, bouncing on its crags.
"KEZOA!" Pohatu cried.
She landed on her stomach on the canyon floor, just meters away from the edge of the sea. Kezoa lifted her head up, and the snake was there. Its jaws were extended out towards her, and it was coming in fast. Kezoa threw her play stick and hit it smack in its nose. It pulled back rapidly, surprised. She jumped up to her feet and ran towards Pohatu, still standing on the cliff edge. The snake heard the movement and darted over in that direction, blocking her path. She went the other way, but before she took two strides she saw the creature's body blocked that way too. Turning back towards the Blind Wyrm, she saw it rise up to its full height and prepare to strike. With both exits locked, she was done for.
A mighty bellow sounded from the exit of the canyon, and Kezoa opened her eyes to see a large, dark shape leap into the air and tackle the beast. It was Beowulf. He bore his teeth and opened his jaw wide, locking them around the Wyrm's neck and forcing it to the ground. The Wyrm shrieked and collided into the stone floor, its body writhing and thrashing. Kezoa took this opportunity and escaped from the clutches of the snake, ducking beneath its twists coils. She ran towards the opposite end of the delta, but the Wyrm followed in that general direction, lunging and colliding on the ground just several meters away from Kezoa's feet.
Out of instinct, Kezoa whirled around and raced back in the opposite direction, but tripping over something on her way. As she slid across the ground, she turned to see what it was that tripped her and saw the kohlii stick.
She reached out and grabbed it, as any weapon was better than none. She looked up at Pohatu, who had thrown a kohlii ball into the ocean. The sound of it hitting the water caused the snake to throw Beowulf off of its neck and lift its head to try and identify what it was that had caused the noise.
Beowulf landed on the ground, he made very little sound as he did so, and when he got to his feet, he began running over to Kezoa.
Her eyes widened. She looked up at Pohatu and waved her arms to catch his attention, and when she did, she made motions that told him exactly what she wanted him to do. Pohatu nodded in understanding and pulled out another kohlii ball.
Kezoa widened her stance. She gauged the distance between her and the approaching Beowulf, and the striking distance the snake had. Deciding that she had to take a chance, Kezoa lifted two fingers to her mouth and whistled. The snake whirled around at the sound as Kezoa stretched her arm out for Beowulf. Instinct kicked in for him, and the many hours of training that they went through clicked in his brain and he headed straight towards her hand. She watched and waited as Beowulf drew closer. The sight of the snake coiling and getting ready to strike frightened her, and her past failure that morning came back to her full force, but she forced both feelings down.
The past is the past. She told herself, and I'm going to do it this time…without my powers!
Kezoa's fingers hooked on the edge of Beowulf's shoulder. She sprang upward, lifting a leg over his body and completing a flourishing moving mount. The next part was harder.
Kezoa brandished the kohlii stick, and from the opposite end of the delta, Pohatu threw a kohlii ball up in the air and used the stick to toss it towards her.
The moment of truth.
Keeping her eye on the ball, she pulled her arm back. When the ball came within range, Kezoa flung the play stick's hammer end towards the kohlii ball, in the direction of the sea.
The moment the ball contacted the hammer, it made an enormous CRACK!
The snake's body twisted around in the direction. The ball blew past its head, creating a rattling sound as it went. The creature' followed the direction of the sound, and when it dropped into the deep end of the water, the Wyrm didn't hesitate to dive right in.
It realized its mistake too late, and Kezoa could see the last bit of its tail thrashing as it disappeared under the silvery surface of the ocean, never to surface again.
()()()()()()()()()()
"We welcome you all to Po-Metru, and to this blessed arena," Turaga Onewa crowed over the screaming Matoran fans, littered around the stadium seats. Matoran from all six Metrus had gathered today, and were mixing and mingling in the seating area, set high above the arena as to be able to see the goings on, and as well to keep them safe from foul balls that were sometimes liable to exit the playing field. Turaga Onewa was perched in a skybox in the northern end of the arena, just above the scoreboard, were another Matoran stood waiting to add large round boulders to each of the teams whenever they made a point.
Beside Turaga Onewa stood Turagas Vakama and Whenua, representing their villages that were entered into the very first kohlii match in Metru Nui.
"And we are grateful for the support of the Great Spirit," Onewa continued, "for allowing us this opportunity. And we are also grateful toward our protectors—"
Turaga Onewa used his staff to gesture towards the podium above him, were a lone figure stood:
"Toa Pohatu, our patron of kohlii!"
Pohatu waved to the crowd with both hands as they erupted into cheering.
"Toa Onua, spirit of earth!"
Onua, entered in from the left of Pohatu, and when he reached his brother's side he cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled to the crowd:
"ARE YOU READY FOR SOME KOHLII-I-I-I-I—?!"
His was met with massive positive response. Pohatu shook his head with a smile on his face and thumped his brother's back.
"From Ta-Metru, Toa Tahu—spirit of fire!" Onewa announced.
Toa Tahu entered in from the right. He waved at the crowd, but didn't appear very enthusiastic about being in the newly completed kohlii field. Perhaps it brought back bittersweet memories…who knew?
"And," Onewa added, "we also have a special guest here with us today—if not for her valiant cooperation with Toa Pohatu, on protecting our Matoran and banishing the Blind Wyrm from the Canyon of Unending whispers, we would not have our kohlii field today! Please welcome our guest: Toa Kezoa!"
Kezoa nearly missed her queue, she was so nervous. When her name was mentioned, she surged forward and nearly collided with Onua. Following her brother's example, Kezoa lifted a hand and waved, smiling awkwardly. The crowd cheered at her appearance, and Kezoa was once again floored at how loud they could be.
"Once again, we welcome you all to Po-Metru, and we dedicate this field to the Great Spirit!"
"UNITY! DUTY! DESTINY!" the Matoran chorused.
Onewa nodded, and he lifted his staff.
"Let the games begin!"
Pohatu draped an arm over Kezoa's shoulder and pulled her to him in a tight side-hug. Kezoa squeaked in surprise, but this time she didn't hesitate to hug him back. All four Toa sat down as the three teams representing the three different Metru's present entered the stadium.
"It hasn't been that long since building started," Kezoa said, "it's amazing that everyone was able to get the arena done so quickly!"
It had been a while, but Kezoa hadn't really noticed since she had been too busy tending to Beowulf. He had recovered just enough for Kezoa to allow herself to come to the arena, and she was glad that she did.
"Nothing can stop the Matoran once they put their mind to something!" Onua crowed.
"One cannot doubt that," Pohatu said, "But dedication and ingenuity are not just traits exclusively given to Matoran!"
Kezoa looked over and saw Pohatu grinning at her.
"Stop it, already!" Kezoa gave her brother a shove, but she was smiling, "Can we just watch the game?"
Tahu sneered and rolled his eyes, but this motion went unnoticed to the others.
"Sister, I hope we are on good terms, then?" Pohatu asked.
Kezoa turned to Pohatu and gave him a funny look.
"You're still worried about that?" she laughed. Pohatu shrugged, his face reflecting all seriousness. Kezoa elbowed him affectionately.
"You were never on my bad side, Pohatu, so don't worry about that." She told him, "It's just…I need a little more time to heal, is all."
"Are you healing?" Onua questioned.
Kezoa looked down at the stadium. The Matoran were sprinting around the arena, and whenever a point was made, the observing ones released a huge cheer.
"Yeah." She nodded. Her heart was light, "I most certainly am."
()()()()()()()()()()
Maltegere had been largely absent as of late. But it was for good reason, he believed.
He was seated, cross-legged, within a deep cave—so deep, that no light entered. It was here that he could magnify his concentration to the maximum, and begin his operation. Breathing easily, Maltegere focused on his body and on the molecules therein. He willed them to change constitution, without the bindings coming undone. A painful shock went through his frame, but it left so quickly it was a wonder that it was there to begin with. Maltegere opened his eyes and saw that he succeeded.
His shadows danced all around him, singing their songs of death and destruction. He was now in the shadow realm—that fine line between your feet and the ground where all shadows lived and reigned.
Several of the shadows crooned and swooped over to him, nuzzling his body (if it could be called that; here, he was no more than a shadow himself). Maltegere brushed his hands across their heads, smiling and speaking to them softly.
"Yes, it has been a while since I was with you, hasn't it?" he whispered, "But worry not, my friends; I shall have much use of you in the days that are to come."
Maltegere looked down at a particularly cozy shadow rubbing against his side. He took its head in his hand and lifted it to his eye-level.
"Hello, there." He crooned. The shadow warbled and stuck its tongue out, licking his mask. Maltegere smiled and began scratching the bottom of its jaw.
"I have a job for you, little one." He told it, "Go to Ta-Metru. Take the form of whatever is easiest and wreak havoc. Be sure to draw Toa Kezoa out of her hiding place, and tell me when she does."
The shadow chirped in acknowledgement and pulled out of Maltegere's grip, speeding away towards the city's direction. Maltegere turned toward the rest of his shadows and gave them a wild grin.
"As for the rest of you," he ordered, "you are coming with me. We're about to storm a castle."
AN: I don't want school to start... T^T