Chapter 1 -- Mourning Voyage
Takua woke up with a start, stifling the wail of absolute terror he felt within him. Rifling around fervently, he found his pale blue Pakari, and put it on. Though he felt much better now that he was masked, and partially concealed from the world, he still felt terrified and miserable. That hadn't been the first time he'd had that dream. He'd been suffering from it ever since the so-called defeat of Makuta.
The sunlight streamed through his window, and judging from the angle it was beaming from, he guessed it was roughly eight o'clock. Heading down to breakfast, he almost ran into a slow moving Matoran wearing a red Pakari.
"Sorry about that, Kapura. I wasn't watching where I was going."
Kapura's eyes stared blankly at him through the slits on his red Pakari, a trait that had always made Takua's hackles rise. Usually Kapura nodded politely and stepped aside. But this time he did not move, but coughed briefly and continued to block Takua's way.
"What? Have I got dirt on my mask or something?" asked Takua.
"No." said the red Matoran, matter-of-factly. "I was just going to say that maybe you could use an eye checkup if you are having trouble seeing me. I do believe this is the 12th time this month that you have nearly crashed into me." He covered his mouth and coughed again, sending smoke and fire into the air.
Kapura's incredible memory and quiet demeanor never failed to press the wrong buttons with Takua, and today was no exception. Kapura, by nature was very calm, very cool and collected. He never hurried or rushed decisions, and was amazingly competent in all that he did. The thing that bothered Takua about him was his utter lack of initiative. Kapura was the type of Matoran who would simply stand in a middle of field with ten Nui-Rama bomb-diving him like a complete idiot until a superior gave him a command to either get out of the way, or attack. He rarely did anything he wasn't told to do.
Yes, Kapura irked Takua to no end!
But today, Takua was too tired to pick a fight with his fellow villager, and simply motioned for the enigmatic Kapura to follow him to Ta-Koro's main hall.
--*--*--*--
The main hall was abuzz as Takua and Kapura entered, but the public barely took notice of them as they made their way to the end of the third table. Just as they sat down, a buzzer rang throughout the hall, the signal for breakfast to begin. Voices became silent, and with the precision of a bugle corps, Table One made their way to the buffet table, picked the food they wanted, and sat immediately back down. The scenario was repeated again for the second and third tables. No talking, no fooling around. Like their Toa, Ta-Koronans were allergic to wasting time.
When at last Kapura and Takua sat back down, their plates loaded with food, Jala gave the 'ok' signal...a sign that it was time to dig in. Talk broke out again as the Matoran tried to make the most of their precious breakfast hour. As Takua stuffed a Bula berry in his mouth, he noticed that Vakama was not around. He hadn't been for the past couple of days. "Probably deciphering a new prophecy..." Takua thought.
"I was wondering what kept you, Takua." A solemn voice said.
Takua felt himself jump up and bow quickly before Vakama, Turaga of Ta-Koro. "H-hello, Turaga." He forced his heart to calm. "Umm...won't you sit down?"
"Not right now. I would like to speak with as soon as you are finished with your breakfast." Takua felt the intense gaze from Vakama, and nodded reluctantly. He had a feeling that Vakama had been studying him for some time now, and that anything that the Turaga had to say would not cheer him up. Though Takua felt bad about thinking that, he couldn't help but resent his tribe's elder at times. Vakama had always been very gentle with him, as gentle as a Turaga with over a thousand residents to look after could be, it didn't change the unpleasant fact that Vakama always had some bad news to share.
Listlessly, Takua finished the Husi eggs he had been eating, stood up, and quietly followed the Turaga into his hut, relaxing just for a moment in the heat of Vakama's fire. So sleep deprived was he, that he fell into an uneasy doze before Vakama cleared his throat, waking him up.
"Sorry about that…" said Takua.
Vakama waved his hand dismissively. "No apologies here. We haven't the time." Fixing the small figure with his flaming gaze, he spoke softly, but firmly. "I came to ask if you are okay. You seem very unhappy and ill as of late."
Takua didn't answer, but looked at his feet. Vakama, sensing his hesitation, made his way over and removed the Matoran's Pakari. Instinctively, Takua widened his eyes and tried to grasp it back, but failed. Vakama looked him over carefully. Takua did indeed seem very weak, and there were dried tear tracks etched upon his gray face. His eyes seemed paler than usual, and he did not seem to have that fierce determination that usually characterized him. It was as if all that was keeping Takua intact was his own willpower. 'So, it has begun.' thought Vakama.
Sighing, the Turaga of Ta-Koro handed Takua back his Pakari. "I cannot force you to tell me what you are hiding. Nor can I force you to take care of yourself. I can only urge you to take yet another painful journey across Mata Nui." Ignoring the shocked looks of Takua, Vakama reached up and removed a small object from the top shelf. He handed it to Takua. "This scarab was found around your neck when Jala first found you outside of Ta-Koro."
With slight hesitation, the young Matoran took the scarab, fingering the dainty crevasses of its left side and put it around his neck. A flood of energy coursed through Takua's feeble limbs, and he felt more alive than he had in months. What in the heck was this thing? It was then that he noticed that something was odd about the gem. "Turaga...is this scarab complete?"
"No." said Vakama simply. "It is missing its other half. While I am not sure on this, my instinct tells me that you are the one it is meant for, and that it is you, Takua, who must seek out the scarab's missing link." The blazing intensity in Vakama's eyes flickered faintly. "Though I have no proof, no situation to go by, I also believe that you are the only one who could master the completed scarab. It is a piece of ancient history so far back that even we Turaga cannot remember it."
Takua stared with wary eyes at the little piece of jewelery. He suddenly had so many more questions to ask. "What do I do with it, once it's completed?"
Vakama didn't answer right away, which confused Takua. It was hard for anyone to view Vakama as a feeble creature, but he suddenly seemed very, very old as he stared into the fire, refusing to meet his ward's gaze. "You will know what to do when the time comes, Takua." Another pause, and then;
"Goodbye."
Takua woke up with a start, stifling the wail of absolute terror he felt within him. Rifling around fervently, he found his pale blue Pakari, and put it on. Though he felt much better now that he was masked, and partially concealed from the world, he still felt terrified and miserable. That hadn't been the first time he'd had that dream. He'd been suffering from it ever since the so-called defeat of Makuta.
The sunlight streamed through his window, and judging from the angle it was beaming from, he guessed it was roughly eight o'clock. Heading down to breakfast, he almost ran into a slow moving Matoran wearing a red Pakari.
"Sorry about that, Kapura. I wasn't watching where I was going."
Kapura's eyes stared blankly at him through the slits on his red Pakari, a trait that had always made Takua's hackles rise. Usually Kapura nodded politely and stepped aside. But this time he did not move, but coughed briefly and continued to block Takua's way.
"What? Have I got dirt on my mask or something?" asked Takua.
"No." said the red Matoran, matter-of-factly. "I was just going to say that maybe you could use an eye checkup if you are having trouble seeing me. I do believe this is the 12th time this month that you have nearly crashed into me." He covered his mouth and coughed again, sending smoke and fire into the air.
Kapura's incredible memory and quiet demeanor never failed to press the wrong buttons with Takua, and today was no exception. Kapura, by nature was very calm, very cool and collected. He never hurried or rushed decisions, and was amazingly competent in all that he did. The thing that bothered Takua about him was his utter lack of initiative. Kapura was the type of Matoran who would simply stand in a middle of field with ten Nui-Rama bomb-diving him like a complete idiot until a superior gave him a command to either get out of the way, or attack. He rarely did anything he wasn't told to do.
Yes, Kapura irked Takua to no end!
But today, Takua was too tired to pick a fight with his fellow villager, and simply motioned for the enigmatic Kapura to follow him to Ta-Koro's main hall.
--*--*--*--
The main hall was abuzz as Takua and Kapura entered, but the public barely took notice of them as they made their way to the end of the third table. Just as they sat down, a buzzer rang throughout the hall, the signal for breakfast to begin. Voices became silent, and with the precision of a bugle corps, Table One made their way to the buffet table, picked the food they wanted, and sat immediately back down. The scenario was repeated again for the second and third tables. No talking, no fooling around. Like their Toa, Ta-Koronans were allergic to wasting time.
When at last Kapura and Takua sat back down, their plates loaded with food, Jala gave the 'ok' signal...a sign that it was time to dig in. Talk broke out again as the Matoran tried to make the most of their precious breakfast hour. As Takua stuffed a Bula berry in his mouth, he noticed that Vakama was not around. He hadn't been for the past couple of days. "Probably deciphering a new prophecy..." Takua thought.
"I was wondering what kept you, Takua." A solemn voice said.
Takua felt himself jump up and bow quickly before Vakama, Turaga of Ta-Koro. "H-hello, Turaga." He forced his heart to calm. "Umm...won't you sit down?"
"Not right now. I would like to speak with as soon as you are finished with your breakfast." Takua felt the intense gaze from Vakama, and nodded reluctantly. He had a feeling that Vakama had been studying him for some time now, and that anything that the Turaga had to say would not cheer him up. Though Takua felt bad about thinking that, he couldn't help but resent his tribe's elder at times. Vakama had always been very gentle with him, as gentle as a Turaga with over a thousand residents to look after could be, it didn't change the unpleasant fact that Vakama always had some bad news to share.
Listlessly, Takua finished the Husi eggs he had been eating, stood up, and quietly followed the Turaga into his hut, relaxing just for a moment in the heat of Vakama's fire. So sleep deprived was he, that he fell into an uneasy doze before Vakama cleared his throat, waking him up.
"Sorry about that…" said Takua.
Vakama waved his hand dismissively. "No apologies here. We haven't the time." Fixing the small figure with his flaming gaze, he spoke softly, but firmly. "I came to ask if you are okay. You seem very unhappy and ill as of late."
Takua didn't answer, but looked at his feet. Vakama, sensing his hesitation, made his way over and removed the Matoran's Pakari. Instinctively, Takua widened his eyes and tried to grasp it back, but failed. Vakama looked him over carefully. Takua did indeed seem very weak, and there were dried tear tracks etched upon his gray face. His eyes seemed paler than usual, and he did not seem to have that fierce determination that usually characterized him. It was as if all that was keeping Takua intact was his own willpower. 'So, it has begun.' thought Vakama.
Sighing, the Turaga of Ta-Koro handed Takua back his Pakari. "I cannot force you to tell me what you are hiding. Nor can I force you to take care of yourself. I can only urge you to take yet another painful journey across Mata Nui." Ignoring the shocked looks of Takua, Vakama reached up and removed a small object from the top shelf. He handed it to Takua. "This scarab was found around your neck when Jala first found you outside of Ta-Koro."
With slight hesitation, the young Matoran took the scarab, fingering the dainty crevasses of its left side and put it around his neck. A flood of energy coursed through Takua's feeble limbs, and he felt more alive than he had in months. What in the heck was this thing? It was then that he noticed that something was odd about the gem. "Turaga...is this scarab complete?"
"No." said Vakama simply. "It is missing its other half. While I am not sure on this, my instinct tells me that you are the one it is meant for, and that it is you, Takua, who must seek out the scarab's missing link." The blazing intensity in Vakama's eyes flickered faintly. "Though I have no proof, no situation to go by, I also believe that you are the only one who could master the completed scarab. It is a piece of ancient history so far back that even we Turaga cannot remember it."
Takua stared with wary eyes at the little piece of jewelery. He suddenly had so many more questions to ask. "What do I do with it, once it's completed?"
Vakama didn't answer right away, which confused Takua. It was hard for anyone to view Vakama as a feeble creature, but he suddenly seemed very, very old as he stared into the fire, refusing to meet his ward's gaze. "You will know what to do when the time comes, Takua." Another pause, and then;
"Goodbye."