Reap the Whirlwind
Brahn didn’t need a spyglass to see the sandstorm. The mass of swirling dust was massive, a muddled shadow that blocked out the pre-dawn light to the east of Le-Kreeft. Given recent events, he had little doubt as to what, or rather who, was causing it.
“There she is,” Allya announced from behind him. “Friana.” An involuntary scowl crossed Brahn’s face. The Demon Gale Knight, Toa of Air and bradker of the Leta people… and his daughter. He could only guess why she had returned to the hub of the desert. The sandstorm she was bringing made it a well-educated guess, at the very least.
“Bowen!” the general barked. “Send word to prepare the war column at once. It’s time to make the first move.”
Dawn brought only darkness to Le-Kreeft. Heavy clouds blocked out the sun as the sandstorm raged. Friana hung in the air above the desert oasis, untouched in the eye of the storm. The ground was only a dark smudge below her, all detail lost in the whirling dusty haze. The swirl of sand had been inspired by their expedition into Borrara: the Leta army couldn’t hit her if they couldn’t see her. That was the thought, anyway.
Of course, it limited her as well. She could see about as well as they could, which took away the advantage her bow should have provided. That wasn’t even considering the strain using her element like this caused. The Toa of Air was left with her daggers, her wits, and a ticking clock, her stamina draining away like the sand in an hourglass. Of all the scrapes she’d been in, this might actually take the cake. She’d have to repay Clove for the trouble the next time she saw him, but first came her own people.
Steeling herself, Friana tucked in her legs and dove for the desert below. Sand and wind whipped by her mask, allowing the beginning of the war caravan to come into focus. She leaned back, her outstretched feet driving into the first wagon with a dull whump. The canvas held, and the wagon fell onto its side. Voices cried out from within, but she was already gone, rolling off into the sand. One dagger found its way to her hand, and she darted back towards the column.
A shape loomed out of the cloud of dust. Friana’s knee rose, and the matoran dropped onto the desert floor. Sorry, friend. Now she could make out the rest of the column. She dashed past the fallen matoran and sprinted for the nearest wagon. A quick slash cut the transport from the medsall pulling it, and then she was gone again, enveloped by the sand. An arrow from a quick-witted archer tried to follow her, but fell short.
At this point, the column was stuck. They dared not venture off the path for fear of their own traps, and her handiwork had prevented them from moving forward. A gust of wind caught her glider and carried her up and forward, towards her true destination. She landed atop the gate to Le-Kreeft then dropped down, catching a pair of matoran by surprise. They both fell within seconds, lying unconscious in the open doorway. The sound of armor hitting stone drew the attention of all those nearby.
“I’m back!” she called cheerfully, breaking the spell of shocked silence. Soldiers rushed to draw their weapons and bring them to bear against their Toa. The one that drew her attention, however, was the one that ran. He wasn’t a coward; no, he was a messenger, reporting the events dutifully to his Pan. She just had to follow him to her father.
The Demon Gale Knight earned her name, spinning through the Leta army like a whirlwind. No blade could seem to meet her, yet many matoran would wake up with headaches from her blows. The line of brave Leta was no match for her, stalling her for only a minute before she broke free. The messenger was still in sight, scurrying up the ladder to a makeshift wooden platform. She bounded across the cavern, an arrow skimming her shoulder as she ran. With one last leap she arrived on top of the platform, towering over the matoran trying to announce her arrival. Various generals and soldiers stood around the platform, but she only cared for one of them.
“Hello Pops. Long time no see.” Before she could finish speaking, three different bows found themselves aimed at her. Brahn turned slowly to face her, Allya by his side. Everything about him seemed strangely normal. Was it possible that this was all a mistake? Had Brahn managed to resist Clove after all?
“Bradker,” the Pan spat coldly. “I was waiting for you to show up.” The words hit Friana like a slap to the mask. “I hope you know that all of your efforts are useless. Another column left from the south entrance.” That settled it; her father would never broadcast a bluff so clearly. He had fallen under Clove’s sway after all.
“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” she said. “How’s Briata?” The Pan paused.
“I’m going to need you to stand down, now,” he growled. “Your crusade ends here.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Pops.” Friana shrugged, and her father responded with a growl. He drew a knife, and Friana raised her own. His knife found a different target, however; Allya.
“I know you don’t care about your own safety,” he snarled, his blade held to his wife’s neck, “but what about your mother? You wouldn’t put her in harm’s way, would you?” He pressed the knife into her neck, drawing a thin line of blood and a shocked gasp from the others assembled. Friana had all the information she needed.
She flicked her knife, pulling the air from her father’s lungs. It rushed out in a ragged gasp, and Brahn collapsed in a tangle of limbs, dragging his wife down with him. Friana fell to her knees, her stamina spent. The others looked between the two of them in confusion.
“It… Brahn’s water was poisoned,” Friana gasped. “He was sick. I… I think he’s better now.” At the very least he was out of the way until he could recover properly. She dragged herself to her parents’ sides. Her father was breathing regularly now, and thankfully unconscious. Her mother, too, had been knocked out from the fall.
“…and you, Toa?” A soldier finally asked. “Are you bradker?”
“Forget about that!” another scoffed. “Are you alright?”
“I’ll be fine,” Friana said, waving him off. “I need one thing- no, two things. One, does anyone know what happened at the south gate?” She had sent Briata to the south to forestall any soldiers that tried to leave that way. The sandstorm had made the east and south entrances the most likely ways for soldiers to leave the city, and she couldn’t cover both herself. Briata had volunteered herself to trap the south entrance so that Friana could focus on getting inside as quickly as possible.
“General!” a matoran called up from below. “The south column has stalled! They ran into traps along the road.” And it seemed as if her sister had succeeded. The general looked to her for direction.
“And that’s the second thing: the armies are staying here. Bring them all back inside. I just need a group of our best trappers ready to move as soon as possible.”
“Ready to go… where, exactly?” a soldier asked.
“The Spine. It’s time to prepare for the fight of our lives.”
Grillon wasn’t sure how long they’d been here now. The days and nights had blurred into one neverending instant of pain, anger and shame. In a lot of ways, it wasn’t so different from when he’d been trapped in that dungeon. At the very least he wasn’t being tortured now.
Kerila returned, hovering over him nervously like she had been since they’d gotten here. She’d done the best she could to bandage him up, and Grillon had to admit that it wasn’t so bad - given the circumstances.
Their progress had been painfully slow during the escape: he could barely even stand on his own, and they’d passed several members of the Gwasdyn, Sons of the Eternal - whatever they were called, in the process. They were all frozen or knocked out cold. Eventually, they managed to reach one of the entrances to that dreadful place, and escape.
From there, in the freezing cold, Kerila had managed to drag them into a secluded cave a fair bit away, and laid him down with what little supplies she had.
All she could do now was keep him rested, keep him fed, keep him watered, because he couldn’t go anywhere like this. It made him feel just as powerless as he’d felt before, as powerless as when he’d learned the truth.
When Kerila had betrayed them.
His closest friend had turned out to be his worst adversary, in the end. Funny how these things worked out.
“Grillon…” She began, voice trembling.
“What?” He snapped.
“I… I know this’ll just sound pathetic, a-and stupid, after what I did, but… I-I’m sorry.”
Was she serious? After destroying everything he thought they’d built together, after revealing that their entire friendship was a lie manufactured by some invisible force to get close to him and the other Toa, the best she could manage was sorry?
This clearly translated into his glare, as Kerila looked away in shame.
“I… wish things could’ve been different…“ She trailed off.
Grillon snorted, “Oh, thanks, glad to know you wish you could’ve not been a traitor.”
“It’s not that simple!” She stressed, “I had this task forced on me since I was a little girl, i-it was practically all I ever knew - not everything I told you was a lie!” Grillon stayed silent, a little taken aback.
“The Dyn- or, I guess… well we called them the Heralds, b-but, I’m rambling, they knew that a united team of Toa could stop them, so they discovered the name of one of the future Toa from the stars so they could stop that from ever becoming a reality. That person was me. I’d had my destiny decided for me before I was able to walk. They cut me off from the rest of the world for years to train me to be something I’d never wanted to be, to do something I’d never asked to do! At first I tried to escape it, but… it was useless. No matter what else happened, Grillon, I-I… want you to know that you were my friend, a-and I wish I could’ve been a better one.”
“But you weren’t. And now you never will be.” He said finally, each syllable compounded with measured anger and disgust. He stared at Kerila with cold, bitter eyes, practically spitting the words at her. “I will never forgive you.”
Kerila stared at him, shocked, and opened her mouth to reply for a moment. The moment passed, and she turned away, defeated. Grillon dropped his gaze to the floor, letting the sour taste of anger flood his mind like an overpowering mist. My “friend” - who does she think she’s fooling? As if now, of all times, an apology could fix what was broken-
The Toa of Fire paused a moment.
All of a sudden, Grillon’s thoughts traveled back, back to that first day when they’d gathered the Keata in one place. Back to when he was that bright-eyed idealist, that fool. When he thought he could make a difference. When he thought he could save the island from itself.
“-this war has taken things from all of us: family, friends, freedom. But just pointing blame at the enemy who did it and then committing an equally unspeakable act in response is only going to drive us further apart…”
He shook his head at how stupid it all sounded, how little it mattered in reality.
“Break the cycle…”
But it couldn’t be broken. He’d tried, and he’d failed. They’d lost. It was over.
“Come on Grillon, at least give him a chance–”
“Namiken burned that bridge long ago! You of all people should know that.”
“Hate him all you like, but he is your father…”
But had he? Could he really tell others to forgive their foes - people who had murdered their friends or family, if he couldn’t even forgive his own father?
But…
No. He knew what he had to do now. Even if it would be hard, maybe even impossible, by the stars he would try.
He had taken an oath to stop at nothing until he had saved this island. And that was an oath he did not plan to break.
“Kerila! Wait…”
She turned back to him, posture sagged, eyes brimming with sorrow. His stomach knotted. This was his doing. In his hatred he’d brought her to this low. He felt like filth.
“Forget what I said. I… I forgive you.”