Chapter 17: Trust

Nothing about Matoya was comforting. This bone picker who seemed to be made entirely of clawed fingers looked over each of us as if she were deciding which of our organs to harvest while we slept. Most disturbing of all was her mask. It was clearly made of actual human skin, unnaturally preserved. The eye, ear and mouth orifices were draped over nothing and so empty, and the mouth was rigged to feign expression, but the creature behind the mask did not have any sense of when to make it smile or frown appropriately. I did my best to keep Kendra and I close to either Dolores or Turk when she was around the camp we made outside our cave. What frustrated me was that Kendra seemed to like the monster, giggling when Matoya made a face with her mask, or waved some bauble around. Kendra even ate the food Matoya offered us, though Turk and his band refused.

"Where are the fillipians?" I heard Kobb ask. Somehow I knew he was referring to the Ossarians.

"They moved on," said Noak. Only he and Millet had stayed with us. I felt no attachment to them, but was feeling torn between my familiarity with Dolores and her Vandals, and my fascination with Turk and his riff raff. I knew though that it was likely Turk would not be able to look after Kendra and I. He and his were vagabond warriors, not a travelling family.

Dolores stayed close to us while Turk and Kobb bargained with Matoya. I strained to hear their talk, noting the differences in their approaches. Matoya was now speaking in whatever her native tongue was, though it was clear she understood our anglanic speech. Turk seemed to understand her whirrs and hums better than Kobb, and often had to translate. He was forceful, constantly reminded Matoya that the parasites were a danger to her as well as anyone, and that she should help them poison the archon gratis. I felt a foolish sense of pride when I learned that my plan had also been Turk's.

After a bit of a struggle, Matoya offered poison for what Kobb and Turk felt was a fair price, along with shelter while the poison took effect. Kendra and I, along with a number of the youngest Vandals, were to remain in Matoya's cave for the entire operation. I was very upset, wanting badly to show my courage to Turk.

Matoya's cave seemed to go on indefinitely. She lit her winding tunnels with whatever sources of luminescence one could imagine. Here torches, there crystals, now and then the long cylinders that flowed with glowing gel. There were even rush lights with catches for burn-off. I did not share Kendra's inclination to explore, but kept close to her all the same. She seemed determined to leave no tunnel unchecked, and Matoya seemed happy to have us wandering through her home. Most of the rooms were filled with her wares, pilfered from the many piles of rubbish in the old battlefields by her cave. I never saw any evidence of it, but I figured her many tunnels must open up on multiple scavenging sites.

My initial fear eventually faded into boredom as we went into storeroom after storeroom of what looked like pure junk. Now and then I'd find an odd device that roused mild curiosity, and I felt a small amount of understanding towards Matoya. Living alone out here, one could hardly blame her for digging through graves and rubbish heaps to make herself useful to the dangerous folk who routinely braved the wild lands.

One room did intrigue me a great deal. There breathing masks similar to the kind Turk and his fellows hanging from pegs on a wall, a row of arbalests of similar types, and a helm with a bronze visor and built in breather. What caught my attention hung on the wall above the uniform gear. A painting, made of light, emitted from a source like that which jinn use as homes, showed my first ever vision of an ark.

I thought of the archon outside, lumbering slowly towards its doom, as the ark swayed in the sky with its sails flared out behind. The fuselage bore the shape of the archon, though wings and fins sprouted out of its sides and aft, and there was a forecastle that boasted a devastating array of long guns. It was a fine vessel, and on its flank was the word Icarus.

"That's where we're from," said a voice. I turned slowly, and saw a boy half the height of Kendra, a third the height of me. "Before my time, of course."

"I thought arks were a fable," I told him.

"They're as real as you and me. They flew past the clouds to look for a new home, but they were attacked by the other arks and had to come back. Most of them crashed. That's the story I'm told. We Vandals were rangers, taught to survive anywhere. We were to explore the new world we found before the others made their homes. Only we rangers survived, and we kept our traditions."

I thanked the boy, for while I didn't ask, it was a thing I'd wondered about. I asked if he'd ever seen the ark, and he replied that was somewhere on the continent, far beyond the habitable lands, and that it crashed there long ago. From there we made our way to the large room where the others had gathered. It was near the entrance, but well blockaded by a host of winding tunnels and other rooms, most of which where teeming with Matoya's Sundries. I grew bored, and slipped away to find my way to the surface to watch the warriors deal with the archon. Their plan was to set up a ballista made from parts purchased from Matoya, then launch poison tipped harpoons into the poor beast. The poison was one concocted supposedly by the Devils in days of yore, when they tried to annihilate the surface world. The parasites would drink it in through the archon's blood and die, and the threat would be removed.

I wanted very much to see this happen, ostensibly so that I could feel assured Kendra was safe. I told her so, then, ignoring Matoya and the Ossarians, I pushed past everyone and found the long, worming tunnel we came in through and went to the door. I hadn't seen her golems on the way in, but there they were; skeletal automata, their backs to the wall on either side of the entrance, hands and feet clinging to the stony surface six feet above the ground. The texture of the membrane over their metal bones matched very well with the dark, glossy sheen of the cave walls. They both turned their heads towards me as I approached. When I came near their eyes (they each had six, of varied sizes) glowed orange and they dropped down and reached for me. Partly in fear, partly in anger, I recoiled and pressed my back against the cave. I knew their eyes could easily pierce through dark, finding what little shreds of light there were and processing those rays. And it wasn't very dark where I stood. There were shadows, but Matoya kept her warren lit. And yet they walked about searching for me as if blind, then resumed their places on the wall by the door. I moved very slowly, very quietly, my fear and anger unabated, then made my exit. When I opened the door they dropped down again and pursued me, and I ran, but they never found me.

The archon was alarmingly close. I chose a vantage point on a spur of rock nearby and watched as missiles shot from the ballistas. Each great bolt seemed to vanish into the archon with no effect. They had in fact several ballistas; how many precisely I could not be sure. The hail of bolts they fired all vanished into the archon's bulk, and I thought perhaps the plan had failed and we were doomed to be tread upon. But then I chanced a glimpse of movement in the light of one of the burning quarrels. I strained my eyes to the point where that dim green light I saw under the arch behind us manifested again, and in the brightened gloom I realised the parasites were dropping from the archon. Not enough for me to feel elated, but it showed the plan was working and I felt reassured. I wanted to ask for a monocular, but I decided it best not to reveal I'd emerged from Matoya's cave against instructions. Dolores had not been in the central hall when I left. Had she been, I may not have made it out, and I had no clue how I managed to slip past Matoya's golems, so I kept still and silent, and watched sadly as the archon's legs grew weak and the magnificent animal faltered, dropping down almost to the ground, then wobbling itself back up.

I remembered the giant then, and Anassa, and I was overcome with sadness to see such a gentle and harmless creature being slaughtered. The archon faltered again, then weakly rose, then one of its hindlegs buckled and it slowly lowered to a crouch. It stood there heaving, its massive flanks the size of a cathedral pumping with intense fatigue. Then its mouth opened like a hatch and enough bile to fill a cistern poured out. I couldn't watch anymore, so I turned and went back into the cave. This time the golems were ready for me, and they took hold of each of my shoulders. I lost control and wailed. They held me still until Matoya came to the door with Dolores behind her, then loosened their grip. I lowered my head and ran between them both, then darted down a passage I had not noticed before. I was eager to be alone, and in no mood to be scolded by these people who had no claim over me, or to look at Matoya's ridiculous and disturbing mask.

I went heedless until I heard no more sounds of pursuit, then tried to take stock of where I'd gotten myself. I had travelled downhill and the way was far less lit. A strong odor came from further down that reminded me of some of the Dolomite's lower containment rooms and operating cells. I followed the odor, drawn by the perceived familiarity of the home I'd lost, and eventually found myself in a nexus of hallways flaring outward like the petals of an aster. I took careful not of the layout, and which hall I came from, then went to the central room where the hallways converged. I craned my neck and strained to hear. Each hallways sported a different sound, but the one that drew me was tracked by a low, dirge-like growl. I followed it to a metal door with only a row of narrow slits near its top to see through. They were just wide enough for me to fit my slender fingers through, so I jumped, caught hold, then pulled myself up. I felt something hot and sharp rake my knuckles, eliciting from me a scream. I looked in to see what had reached for me and gasped. I remembered the skull Matoya showed to Turk. She had told him she cracked something's shell, and did not answer when he asked her where she kept the meat. Well, I found where, and I wished I hadn't.

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