Brothers by Blood and Bone

Prologue
''Years ago, six thieves trespassed upon the dilapidated lair of a dark lord long since vanquished. They searched for tools and trinkets, weapons to wreak havoc and treasures to savor. They found a little of both. A mysterious spear, of supposed mundanity, whose unspeakable powers were soon spoken. In a flash, one thief become two. A body split, now rendered twin halves of twin half-minds. One half departed for glory elsewhere, while the other descended into raging madness, yearning for reunion. Now an ancient score has been settled amongst gods, and peace bestowed upon a lush new world. Now the two halves have the silence, in which to sense a call for the other, and feel the desire to be whole again.''

Chapter 1 – Fear and Fury Leave a Body Woken
Soft sands cushion my limp body, a comfort I don’t recall to have felt for quite some time. The sediments press against my back and quietly envelope the spiked protrusions that line my spine, gently, like a tender embrace from those too kind to be a comrade of mine. The sleep is soothing, but there’s also a silence. An unbearable silence. It lets me think. It lets me dwell, on goals and desires I’d rather have had done long ago. They can’t wait, not anymore. I can’t stay here. I must…I must awake.

It’s a tedious task, but I manage to slowly open my pitiful eyes, and awaken them as my other senses have. A sky decorated with the heavens’ pinks and purples wait to greet them. I see a sun, rising as tiredly as I. I find comfort in the relation. We are both slow to wake in the dawn.

I force my body to action, beginning bone by bone, personally noting that each limb still functions. Both arms, both legs, both elbows, both knees, both wrists, both ankles. Every finger on every hand, every toe on every foot, neck, spine, and waist. Yes, I believe that’s it. Everything’s normal, or as “normal” as the body of a skakdi can ever be. Everything’s intact, and ready. Now…now to worry about everything else.

As slowly as my eyes had opened, I ease my back upwards, rising from the comforting sands and arching over my still-laid legs. I feel a few stubborn grains continuing to cling to me, inviting me to return to my dreamless sleep. I decline. Make no mistake, it’s tempting. Very tempting. But there is something I must do. Something I’ve been meaning to do. A hole that must be filled.

I climb to feet, ever so slowly. Muscles long-dormant work again to support my massive frame. Gradually, my spine unwinds, and finally I stand tall above the sand. I am awake. I turn away from the sprawling ocean to begin my journey. I find cliffs towering above the beachside behind me, standing as the divide between the ocean and whatever lies beyond up above and further onward: my first obstacle in my new quest. Simple, but undoubtedly arduous. Nonetheless, it must be traversed, like everything else.

I walk to the great slab of stone, and raise my right fist. I pull my arm back, and tighten the muscle. This must be a precise blow. No room for error or weakness, not if I’m to reach the peak. I slam my fist forward, and the stone crumbles away before it, making room for it to grasp the rock face. It feels good, smashing things again. It’s been a while. Pulling up from my new handhold, I dig the talons of my feet into the stone as well, holding my body steady in its inch-high hang above the ground. Raising my left fist, I ensure I can go even higher. Right fist, left fist, right fist again, I make one hole after the other, and forge my path heavenward.

Only a few yards up now, a gust of wind whistles along the rocks. Old instincts falter, and the gust gets between me and my anchors. The roaring push forces me backwards. I dig my claws into the stone, even as I feel the grasp slipping. Gravity beckons me downward, while the sands promise a soft fall. I refuse. I can’t afford another setback, not again! My nails find themselves on the edge, and…and…the gust stops. I let one long breath escape me. I think it’s earned. And I let out a laugh. A hearty, rusted laugh, that echoes along the cliffs. The breeze that attempts to chill my bones, the aches that carry the echo of my muscles’ cry, it feels so…beautiful. I feel alive again. The sensation strengthens me, and I push onward.

I begin to notice more and more of the environment that has chosen to witness my rise. I know I shouldn’t. I know I should be focusing on the climb. I know I could very well fall to a grisly demise if I don’t. But what’s living if not appreciating what you’ve got? Or what you can take? I notice crashing waves upon the shore. Gulls flying overhead, squawking with anticipation for bountiful breakfasts. Cliffs stretching to either side of me, seemingly holding the whole landmass aloft. Waterside, I notice something more curious: a lower cliff stretching out farther than the wall behind me, a sizeable ledge, and on its surface I spot something stranger, a mountain of rubble. Even from here I recognize the cubic shapes of bricks, scattered where there were once seals to hold them together. I can make out nothing else. Nothing living nor dead seems to remain. I’m not sure what once stood there, on the shores of this cold border to paradise, but I like to think it was a looming fortress. A place from where a conqueror could dispense unchallenged rule. A center of a unified empire. An inspiring thought.

“Aaaagh!” I cry, clutching my head with one hand. I almost let go of the other, swinging just a bit too crazily for my liking. As I regain my balance, I focus on the intruding thought. That word. Fortress. It meant something. Yes. And that rubble. It meant something too. They were important. Yes, very important, for with them lied a memory, and beyond that a cascade more. I retrace through the fragments as I climb further upward. I need to remember everything.

I’m a part, a piece in a great gestalt of a being with powers unlimited. Before that, I’m a water-breathing serpent, petty and humiliated. I remember blistered ruins of a fortified island. I remember claustrophobic confines of filthy tanks. I remember an icy cold deep and twisting underwater tunnels. And…Toa. The masters of nature through will and weapons alone, always so self-righteous and arrogant. I remember six that fell to my blows with ease, and six more whose strength proved a worthier rival. I remember the struggles, and all the frustrations that came as plan after plan was thwarted. I remember the anger as everything I’d worked towards fell apart.

Another gust of wind blows along the cliff. My instincts falter just a little less, and my body is pushed up against the stone even as the wind roars on by, trying to grab my spinal protrusions in passing. Hearing the roars recede, I resume my journeys, inward and outward. The memories grow clearer now. Now I’m a skakdi, as I am in the present. A tall, muscular bipedal beast, whose prominent spine is lined with imposing spikes stretching up my back and to each bicep, and whose angular face is adorned with a grinning jaw of massive, pointed teeth. I remember how I always liked the teeth.

Nature throws another blow my way. And I’m too slow, again. I try to hold on as the winds make their way between me and the cliff, attempting to drive us further apart. My left hand slips off the grip. The feet give way too. The talons cut too far in for their own good and break right through the cliff. My right fist clenches the freezing stone as my body dangles precariously in the wind, bouncing me back and forth. I smash into the cliff once, twice, thrice, and so on. The thought occurs to me that this would be a stupid way to die. I keep swinging about, prayers to obscure deities racing through my head, whether I want them to or not. Every figurehead of superstitious nonsense my tribe-mates on Zakaz ever came up with gets a request for safe passage, a plea that they quell their vengeful breaths. Any minute now, for my sake! For everything I intend to do! For everything I have to avenge!

The roars dwindle to whistles. And at last…at last it dies down. I slip my left hand back into the handhold and hug the cliff tightly. This is not where I die. Not now. Not here. Not when I have so much left to do. I breath heavily, watching the heartstone on my chest flash ever so panickily. I keep watching until it slows, until it becomes a singular glare. I look into that light and find my peace. I utter a silent prayer of thanks to all the celestial figures that may or may not be watching me in my mere mortal doings. They deserve that much. I then pull myself up and smash in my next grip. And then the next. The journey continues.

I remember a boiling chamber now, and the stairway of tension and dread that led to it, and beyond that an island of terrified Matoran. And I remember them, the Piraka. Six we were, on a daring quest for the Mask of Life, seeking all the power such a name entailed. I remember Zaktan the secretive snake – figuratively speaking, of course – Avak the trigger-happy gunslinger, Reidak the brutish brawler, Hakann the pathetic schemer, Thok the treacherous drifter. And me. Vezok. The paranoid jumble of fear and fury. The one most unpredictable. The one that wanted to find the mask most of all. Not just for all the powers it promised, but for the one who was bound to be there alongside it. The one responsible for all my pain and troubles since his departure.

I stop climbing. Something else has started whispering along the cliffs. I hug the cliff again, bracing myself for the worst that nature dare dish out. But it doesn’t come. Not what I was expecting to come. A cackle echoes around me. Sharp and coarse, it reeks of sanity long gone, and sadism most beloved. I feel no push or pull from the winds this time. I only hear the laugh. That terrible, awful laugh, that never stopped taunting me, daring me to step forth into some gaping abyss. I remember it well. It, and its more devious source. Yes. It all becomes clear. That paranoia, that maelstrom of anger and violence, that wasn’t me. Not always. I remember a past self, one calmer and controlled. A self of which I could only form a pale shadow after the thievery. And the one…the one who took that from me…

The laugh grows louder now, bombarding me from ever side. I almost tear free my arms to cover my ears before common sense takes hold. Something tells me it wouldn’t have done any good anyway. I begin climbing again, even faster this time. I have to get away. I have to escape it! As the laugh grows, a new memory comes, this time of another chamber, shadowy and dank. I remember crushed remains of a titan under an equally titanic gate, and beyond him a lair brimming with whispers of schemes and plots. I remember the spear, and the flash that emanated from its tip, and that tear, that horrible tear, as my one body and mind became two, and the collected mass of cold intellect I once cherished became scattered in disarray. And then…and then there was him. The half-being, the wretch that scurried away with half my mind, half my life. The center of which all my goals and desires used to surround, and shall again. The key to seizing back my old persona. My true persona, one of a whole being, proud and strong, full and lively. That was who I was.

My right claw grasps a new ledge. Except I didn’t make it myself, not this time. I look up from the rocks, and see…only sky. No more stone now to impede my view of the pink and blue. I bring my left arm up, and my limbs heave in unison. I rise, higher and higher, and at last, at long last, I am risen. I turn around to the cliff, and the sands below. So small now. So distant. And in the steady breeze at the peak, above all my struggles, I feel stronger than ever. And it’s only the beginning. I’ll make sure of that. I turn around, and beyond the rocks, a massive field of unkempt grasses stretches towards the horizon. A whole new world. A whole new hurdle. The old cackle tries to shrink away, hiding before I can forget it. It doesn’t get far. I seize the sensation, and I look beyond it. I look further, and further, for its owner.

And then I remember him, and with that memory comes the old sense. It’s only a tickle, subtle and unassuming, merely poking the back of my brain. But I know better. I know it means more than that. It means that foul walking jumble of insanity is here, on the same land as I. It means that somewhere he still lurks, living out his miserable half of an existence. It means I still have a chance to be whole again. I look to the new plains that lie before me, and I take the first step. And the next. And the next. And I never look back.

I remember you. I remember your laugh. I remember your smirk. I remember your glare. I remember your sins, each and every. And above all, I finally remember that stupid name we gave you.

Vezon.

Soundtrack

 * Chapter 1 Theme
 * Chapter 2 Theme