The Warlord

The Warlord is a short story that takes place immediately before BIONICLE: Reality. It serves as a companion to The Last Barraki.

Prologue
The red-armored Barraki warlord watched with his eyes narrowed as the five beings entered the council chamber of the League citadel. He clasped his hands together as they began to take their five seats on the long stone table, opposite those of the six warlords, sneering almost undetectably as a tall black-armored one sat down opposite him. Perhaps he saw the sneer; if he did, Makuta Teridax, greatest lieutenant of Miserix's Brotherhood, paid no attention to it. His gaze was fixed intently upon the two leaders of their two organizations, and half a second later Kalmah turned in their direction as well as Pridak began to speak.

“Our requests to your Brotherhood are simple,” said Pridak, tilting his shark-shaped head pointedly to look at the motionless Makuta Miserix. “You shall have a representative in our organization, through whom we will be able to communicate our desires. The Makuta will continue to create Rahi war beasts for us, as well as do anything else to aid us that is within your power. As a token of friendship, you will immediately give us a portion of your armies to call our own.”

I doubt that Miserix is going to like that. Kalmah looked at the Brotherhood leader warily, only to see that Miserix did not move, nor did his eyes flicker from under the eyeholes of his jet-black Mask of Shadows.

Teridax seemed to take his leader's cue and answered for him: “And what would the Brotherhood gain from this... alliance?”

Pridak opened his mouth to speak, but Ehlek, the shocking dark blue eyes in his spiky greenish-yellow head looking straight at Teridax, got there first. “Protection.”

“Protection,” Pridak repeated, shooting a quick, fiery glance at Ehlek before turning back towards the Brotherhood leaders. “We have been chosen as the rightful overlords of the Matoran universe by Mata Nui himself, and once our conquest is finished, all lawful organizations will answer to us or be wiped out.”

An exceptionally skinny Makuta with bat-like wings and a green-black Kanohi Shelek answered this time. He had never seen him in person, but Kalmah knew by reputation that this one was Mutran — the one that had kept sending him short-lived Rahi specimens. “And I assume,” said Mutran in an oily voice, “that you will personally be the ones to decide whether an organization is 'lawful?'”

Kalmah decided to take the cue. “Only those who are strong enough to take initiative,” he said, “are those worthy to pass judgment. The strong shall rise, and the weak shall fall. That is the way the universe works.”

Pridak nodded approvingly at the short speech, though his eyes were still clearly fixed on Miserix's. “Even now,” he hissed in seemingly-breathless the way he did whenever air escaped from his oddly-shaped mouth, “we are dividing the universe up into territories. The Six Kingdoms; one for each of us.”

“What about the places not on your map?” asked Makuta Chirox. “Artakha... Metru Nui... the unknown lands to the south...”

Kalmah spoke again. “We are in... discussions with Metru Nui.” As a matter of fact, they were already over, but should the Brotherhood choose to disobey, he wasn't about to give them all the information they needed. “As for Artakha, let the old fool putter among his creations. And the southern lands are fit only for Stone Rats and Lohrak.”

Mutran muttered something under his breath which sounded very much like “This lot should fit right in.” Kalmah glared at him, and the Makuta coolly turned his head away as if he had nothing better to do.

“Our point,” Mantax growled, “is that you will serve us or be destroyed.”

Kalmah was startled when Miserix blinked suddenly, as if awakening from a trance. The Makuta's lean, heavily-armored form leaned forward on the cold stone table, and he raised a hand to indicate Pridak as he spoke.

“Insolent gnats,” he spat. “The Makuta serve only Mata Nui. We do not put our secret knowledge to work for every being with a strong arm and legions of rabble behind him.”

Pridak leaned forward in response, a small, evil-looking grin spreading across his face. “That 'rabble' is prepared to march on Destral on my orders. Before your Toa and Rahkshi can even so much as marshal their forces, we will have taken your fortress ... and claimed those precious secrets you speak of. You would do well to remember that, while you may serve Mata Nui, we are his chosen rulers in this universe.”

“Then perhaps the Great Spirit is not as smart as we have been led to believe,” said Icarax. He sat at the end of the table, looking around moodily, appearing as if he genuinely didn't care if the argument went one way or the other.

Pridak rose to his feet. Kalmah realized instantly what was going on and snapped up to attention, followed by the four other Barraki. The Makuta stood as well, and as they looked down in the direction of the Barraki, Pridak spoke again. “You have a very simple choice, Makuta — cooperation, or conquest. I trust you will choose wisely.”

Chapter unfinished...