“On you feet, thing,” snarled Sidorak.
In response, Keetongu tried to rise. But the blasts and the impact were too much. He slumped down again.
“Whatever,” muttered the Visorak king. “The final blow is yours, Roodaka.”
“Just like all the others?”
Her tone was no longer respectful and submissive- in fact, it sounded positively insolent. Sidorak turned to find another surprise: Roodaka was walking away.
“Where are you going?” he demanded. “Finish him!”
“You’re the great king, Sidorak,” she challenged. “You do it.”
Sidorak looked away from her, back to Keetongu. The Rahi had finally made it to his feet, battered, bruised… and very, very angry.
The Visorak king turned back towards Roodaka, scowling, “We shall speak of this again.”
Roodaka’s only reaction was a humph.
So the viceroy thought the king so weak as to not be able to finish one miserable Rahi? He had commanded fear and respect through more than his army’s strength.
He readied the blade on his arm, but before he could turn around, an unbearable pain erupted in his back. Keetongu, moving faster than the king could have ever guessed, had plunged the end of his pickax into his back.
Ignoring the pain as best he could, Sidorak spun around and fired a burst of raw energy at the Rahi, sending it flying backwards into the far wall of the coliseum. He wanted to be certain the Rahi was dead, but his strength was already leaving him. Keetongu’s blow had been a fatal one.
The king fell to his knees and rolled onto his back, his breath ragged from his agony. A shadow fell over him.
“Not so tough after a meeting with Keetongu, now, are you?” came the taunting voice of Onewa.
The fading light of the king’s eyes turned to look at the Toa Hordika. “I know you bear no love for me…” he grunted, “That I have harmed you more than perhaps anyone else ever has… But… Grant me one last wish.”
Onewa stared down at him impassively, although he had an idea of what the king wanted.
“Kill… Roodaka. Make her… pay.” With a final gasp, Sidorak expired.