Of Visitations and Revisitations

Of Visitations and Revisitations is a short story bridging the gap between Destiny's Way and The Wake. It takes place in the Broken Order Universe.

Story
The once-Archcommander, Sheriem lay lazily in his cell, pondering his fate for the millionth time. He had no doubt the others were making something of their lives. He knew at least that Koram had been killed. What the other two were doing at the moment was beyond him.

He rolled over. The great Archcommanders. Archangels, in a sense, perhaps. Kings among creatures. Masters of their fate and lords of war.

He shifted again. No, he mustn’t think of them that way. The Archcommanders were excellent, but they weren’t Great Beings, by any stretch of the imagination. To think of them as such would be foolish and arrogant.

And it was most certainly not undignified for an Archcommander to sit in a prison cell for tens of thousands of years. (At least, Sheriem had to keep telling himself that.) Archcommanders were normal creatures as well.

An ancient curse tore from Sheriem’s lips and he bolted upright. That arrogant Kragator. It was because of him Sheriem sat here.

In securing his power over the Kritor Alliance, Kragator had seen it necessary to remove the only opposition that proved a serious threat to him; the Archcommanders. Helryx had long since disappeared and Koram had been killed, so that left Sheriem. But the Archcommander had long-since gone into hermit-hood, retiring from any endeavors at shaping the universe’s fate anymore.

It was well into the tenure of the Hand of Artakha, that Helryx and Kragator had seen it necessary to dismantle the organization. Somehow the inhabitants of the Matoran Universe had been touched by the same intelligence only the Hand of Artakha had held previously, like some Great Being had brought about some sort of large-scale awakening. The Hand had been terribly unfit to handle the problems of the new universe, and while it tried, the Hand was hardly equipped to deal with the new universe. Archcommand, or the four generals in charge of the Hand, had difficulty keeping their agents in order. Helryx and Kragator, two of the Archcommanders, argued for the full-scale dismantling of the Hand. Koram and Sheriem agreed, the Hand was taken apart, and Sheriem set about making plans to retire. Permanently.

But then Helryx called that fateful meeting of the former general staff of the Hand of Artakha. The meeting that had to change it all. Helryx and Kragator had both wanted to reform the Hand, Helryx into her Order of Mata Nui, a secretive organization carrying about Mata Nui's will in ways the Toa couldn't; and Kragator into his Kritekk Mator Alliance, or a new organization with a centralized command structure to protect against the problems of the Hand. Sheriem had even supported the idea of a successor organization to the Hand, even if he didn’t plan to be involved. But when Helryx tried to stop Kragator, he lashed out at her and killed her followers. The Order was dead… and the Kri-tor Alliance was formed.

And Sheriem carried out the plans of a troglodyte.

And Kragator carried out the plans of a paranoid king.

On that fateful day when now-King Kragator approached Sheriem for the first time in several thousand years, he had asked Sheriem if he would serve under Kragator. Disgusted at the thought of serving someone who had once been his peer, Sheriem had told him no. Kragator sighed, gazed out the northern window of Sheriem's hut, and replied,

“The Hand of Artakha was important in its day. Functioning at the command of the four Archcommanders, the Hand swept the universe, fulfilling the will of the Great Beings. But it’s been years since we had any contact with Heremus or any of the others, and the Hand began falling apart. When so many species gained sapience, it was time the Hand died and a new organization take its place. One fit to deal with the changing world. One of members capable of shaping destiny itself.

“And I have done that. Now the Kritor Alliance is one of the two greatest organizations by far. But it cannot falter. I must rule unchallenged if the Kritors are to fulfill their destiny. And you are the only one capable of overthrowing my throw. So join me, Sheriem… or live in true exile. It’s your choice.”

Kragator left that day… and two days later, Botar came.

Sheriem leaned over his bed and groped for a rock lying on his cell’s floor. He reached for one of the few blank spots on the ground left and started carving.

Beware the depths of darkness

That wait with chill embrace

For soldiers who try to escape the battlefield--

They’ll never leave that place.

 

The prison of the ancient kings—

 

A flash of light glowed outside the prison cell and Sheriem sat up, his poem forgotten. The gate to his cell creaked open… and a Wyrak stepped inside.

“Archcommander…” he whispered.

Sheriem stood up.

“Get out.”

The Wyrak’s face betrayed confusion. Sheriem advanced.

“I have no wish to see Kragator again.”

“Oh, no… I am not a Kritor.” The Wyrak smiled. “And Kragator is dead.”

Sheriem stopped and folded his arms. “What are you saying, Wyrak. Speak now, or forever rest in peace.”

The Wyrak took a large step to a piece of floor not covered in wild scratches. Aside from the floor, the cell consisted entirely of metal. There were no windows; the only view out of the chamber was through the door, a door that afforded no view of other cells, much less their contents. The Varim looked back at Sheriem who had sat down again and was looking at him expectantly.

“The powers of the old world are making power-plays in the new. The Archcommanders are taking their rightful place in the universe.”

Sheriem stood up and towered over the Wyrak. Despite Sheriem’s height—ten feet total—the Varim seemed unfazed. The visitor shivered, but with delight, not fear.

“Do not speak to me of Archcommand,” Sheriem scowled. “Or I will finish you. The four of us did not deserve the power bestowed on us.”

The Wyrak chuckled. “Oh, my liege, with all respect, that is where you are wrong. The Archcommanders deserve places of reverence equal to that of the Great Beings.”

Sheriem spat and stepped back to his bed, disregarding his scratches on the floor.

“Stupid fanboys,” he muttered.

The Wyrak merely smiled and held up a small shiny sphere which suddenly glowed with red and blue lights. The room was drown in darkness. Sheriem turned and looked at the Varim.

“Really?”

“Just wait, Lord Sheriem.”

Sheriem turned back around. A map of the Matoran Universe was glowing on the wall. Within seconds, the “map” zoomed in on the northernmost island in the Eastern Island Chain.

“The fortress of Bythrain. The once excellent capital of the Kritor Empire… now all but abandoned.”

“Kritor… Empire?”

“Yes… and at its head… Emperor Kragator. Lord of the Matoran Universe. And in the end… only defeated by a fellow Archcommander.”

“Helryx.”

“Helryx… Who is now the mistress of the Matoran Universe.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Was what?”

“How long ago did Kragator conquer the universe?”

“Almost a year ago.”

“What’s happened since then?”

“Well, the Alignment—that’s Helryx’s organization—has been trying to get a handle on the universe. Kragator structured the empire so that it was completely dependent on him; after his death and the seizure of control by the Alignment, the Matoran Universe collapsed. Kritor lands lost order and direction, and the lands recently held by the Makuta regained their resilience and have threatened the universe. Since then, the Alignment has been fighting to rebuild the world.”

“You mean Helryx has been fighting to rebuild the world.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Sheriem smiled and sat down on his bed and the Wyrak proceeded to flash more images of the destruction throughout the Matoran Universe. So Kragator really had done it. Sheriem would always hate the man, but he had to admit, he was impressed by Kragator. No doubt the conqueror’s legacy would live on through the ages.

“So why have you come here, Varim?”

The Wyrak stopped flashing images.

“What the emperor, Kragator did—he proved to the universe that the universe can be conquered. The universe no longer belongs to Mata Nui, nor does it belong to the Great Beings. Heck, even creatures like Artakha, Karzahni, and Tren Krom bowed before him. Kragator’s conquest can be repeated, but only by a true warrior.”

Sheriem leaned back against the wall.

“And what makes you think I could replicate Kragator’s feat?

“Archcommand.”

Sheriem laughed. Yet there was something intriguing about the Wyrak’s word. He had no doubt he could accomplish what the Varim no doubt wanted, especially if Kragator had found a way. Naturally, Sheriem would accomplish the task in his own style.

“You certainly seem to have a lot of confidence in the former leaders of the Hand of Artakha, Wyrak.”

“One conquered most of the Southern Continent. One, inspired by the first, seized control of the Matoran Universe. One defeated the second, the World Conqueror and has driven the universe to world harmony. What will the last do?”

Sheriem stood up. “So what is your plan, and what is your name, little Wyrak?”

“My name is Jokrah. The Pit was a Kritor Prison of war criminals, but now it’s property of an organization I belong to. So technically are its prisoners. If you lead this, all that we own will belong to you.”

Sheriem smiled. A blank check offered him by some who seemed to worship him and his three peers. In the days when he had gone aloof, he would never have even considered leading a warpath, but dwelling shamefully tens of thousands of years in a prison cell only to be offered a chance to exact wrath will help you reconsider things.

Jokrah, meanwhile, walked over to the door.

“Just out there sit six prisoners. They once attempted to duplicate the feat of the Kritor Alliance, but Kragator, with the help of the Makuta, crushed them in their empire’s infancy. They were leaderless; they had no one to guide them or their empire. Each of the six of them belong to some of the most critical races in the universe, and they will take leadership of those races again if they are unleashed. They are: Pridak the Selavian, Kalmah the Kromivian, Carapar the Aurosian, Ehlek the Aquavian, Mantax the Shasalvian, and Takadox the Hypnovian. Together, they will lead their homelands and species, but they will serve only you.”

Sheriem laughed again and stood up. “Very well. You have my attention. I am yours.”

“Oh, no, my lord. We are yours.”

Characters

 * Sheriem
 * Jokrah
 * Kragator - In a flashback
 * Helryx - Mentioned
 * Koram - Mentioned
 * Artakha - Mentioned
 * Karzahni - Mentioned
 * Tren Krom - Mentioned
 * Pridak - Mentioned
 * Kalmah - Mentioned
 * Carapar - Mentioned
 * Ehlek - Mentioned
 * Mantax - Mentioned
 * Takadox - Mentioned
 * Members of the Hand of Artakha general staff - Mentioned

Trivia

 * In the story's title, the "revisitations" refer to Sheriem revisiting his shame, and "visitations" are a reference to both the next story, called "The Wake", and a metaphorical death of the old Sheriem by Kragator resulting in his rebirth by the end of the short story.
 * Due to the differences between the Prime Reality and the Broken Order Universe (or the fact that the Kritor Alliance existed in place of the Order of Mata Nui), the Pit belongs to the Kritor Alliance (and Botar is a general in the Kritor Alliance, for those of you who haven't read Destiny's Way). The Barraki are there because of their attempt to to create a League of Six Kingdoms emulating the success of the Kritor Alliance, but they were crushed by the Kritor Alliance and Brotherhood of Makuta, neither of which wished to see their twin monopolies on power replicated by a third force.
 * However, after the fall of the the Kritor Empire and the Makuta League, Jokrah's organization moved to recover as much property of the Kritors as possible, including the Pit.
 * The poem carved by Sheriem is a parody of the poem toward the end of Bionicle Legends 5: Inferno, (something ToaGonel can recite off the top of his head).
 * The story of the final meeting of the Hand of Artakha general staff can be found in the upcoming short story, Archcommand.