Chapter CXCII: I Won’t Forget ~Ark

Ark sat in his chair in his makeshift robotics laboratory in the hangar. He sighed as he turned away from the television screen beside him showing the Jioball game. Hovering over Yoshin, the Spectrum had tuned into one of the planet’s television channels, which showed Naaro victor over the other lizard-like creature, named Rex Oar or something like that – he wasn’t paying full attention. The other Wanderers had asked him to come along to watch the game at the stadium, but he refused. When urged, he made his point by singeing Mazzic’s hair a little – he was the closest.

He needed time to be alone, and think. He was pretty good at thinking, given his above-level intelligence and the fact that he had many years of practice in the Pandoran Caves.

Ah, yes, his adopted home, the dark, dingy subterranean chambers where the rivers of Pandora eventually found themselves. They were the realms of the Earth Elemental, Gnome, patron to the keepers of them, the dwarves. But he never saw the master weaponsmiths in his entire time down there. He was too busy thinking.

* * *

Ark swam desperately against the current, futilely trying to get back to his brother on the log above him. He suddenly surfaced feet first, and propelled like a rocket into the backwash beneath him, where the water hit the rock covering the hole. He turned in panic, landing on his right arm, and as the water swept him along once more, there was a burst of searing pain from his shoulder down to his wrist. He screamed in agony and fear as he was immersed once more by the water, falling yet again. The water pushed him down, before it suddenly changed direction, flowing upwards, a smoky red trail following him. As he surfaced and floated, it seemed to have a change of character as it cradled him to what would pass as a shore nearby, placing him gently on the pool’s bank.

He weakly began to crawl up the shore, the waterfall roaring behind him. Clear of the water, he collapsed, breathing heavily. He turned to view his arm, and saw blood along its entire length, sapping away his remaining strength.

What had Syoro Thataso taught him? That’s right…

He shut his eyes and summoned Undine’s watery powers with his entire might, before weakly wriggling his left fingers, trying to motion rain.

He collapsed as a very light curing drizzle pattered on him, soaking into his skin.

When he awoke, scabs were spread along the back of his arm, the already healed places forming glaring scars. He looked up to see that the floodwaters had subsided, a gentle “pattlepattlepattle” of the waterfall hitting the pool. Sunlight filtered down through the crack in the earth, bouncing off the water and giving rippling reflections on the roof, before slowly making its way downstream, entirely swallowed by the darkness at the end.
He looked towards it, dotted with phosphorescent glows of luminous mushrooms. He remembered legends and history about subterranean creatures and dangers – most of them were fearful. He tried to stand himself up, but found his right arm give way beneath him, the exertion of energy sending him back into a dreamless sleep.

He shot awake to find the ghostly light of some, if not all of the moons take place of the sun’s. He rolled over onto his back and peered at the ceiling, gazing at the stalactites pointing at him. Most of them were small, yet the occasional larger one dotted his view.

He then felt his arm – regaining strength, slowly. He decided to risk advancing the curing process, and called on Undine’s powers once more. His arm regained more of its power, and he tried flexing it and moving his fingers. Finding them to all be working, he looked at the wall at the back of the pool.

In the moonslight, he noticed crenulations and small ledges. Maybe he could climb it?

He shakily got to his feet, and stumbled towards the stream. His throat was parched, so he knelt at the water’s edge, scooped water in his right hand, and drank from it.

A sudden thud echoed from the darkness. He quickly stood, the blood draining from his head. Once more, he collapsed.

A sweet smell aroused his consciousness. Ark opened his eyes to find magenta flowers dotted about the sunlit pool, gently floating downstream.

“Rentars? Why?” he muttered.

A wooden carving bobbed near him. Remembering his last attempt at standing, he stood slowly, felt that his arm was almost near its strength once more, then began to wade towards the carving. It was like a semi-circular prism, with the flat face bearing Pandoran letters:

May you rest in peace, Ark Beruga Yoshi

“No!” he yelled. “No!”

He slapped the stomach-deep water with his fists, before taking the carving, giving it a hurtful glare, and throwing it across the cave with his right arm. It clattered as it hit the wall. Wiping a tear away, he bowed his head before looking up apologetically at the wood.

Feeling his strength return after using his injured arm, he let his feet lose purchase of the ground and swam a very gentle breaststroke towards it, hopping out at the other side. He picked up the epitaph and looked at it, admiring the carving.

“They think I’m dead,” he shook his head. He then looked at the wall. “I’ll show them.”

With renewed vigour, he jumped into the pool and swam fervently towards the waterfall. When he reached it, he looked up at the towering face of rock. Perhaps if he made it past the overhang, he could get onto it, and find an easier way up.

He began to work out a route up the cliff-face, finding a nearby niche to stick his left foot into. A nearby small jut of rock served as a handhold for his right arm. He grabbed it, then tried to find a place to put his other foot or hand, and found another jut above him. He then made the rock-climber’s mistake of pulling himself up with his arms.
Unable to take the strain, his right arm lost purchase, and he fell backwards into the water, surfacing spluttering.

“Not strong enough, yet…maybe tomorrow.”

His stomach growled. What could be eaten down here? Surely the dwarves lived on something.

He turned towards the mushrooms. They would do for now. He gently swam across to the other side of the pool, before getting out, and following what was pretty much like a path beside the stream, into the darkness.

When he reached the first mushroom, he found that the fungi allowed enough light to see by, albeit dimly. He picked it, and noticed that it still glowed, but decided it was useless as a torch. He sniffed it, prayed to the Elementals that it wouldn’t poison him, shut his eyes, then bit a portion of it, chewed, and gulped. The mushroom had no taste, but one bite satisfied him immensely. He would only need one bite at every meal-time, if all the mushrooms were like this.

He then made his way back to the pool, and looked up at the cliff again. Dy was somewhere up there, surely missing his presence. He then realised how lonely he felt without the company of his brother. The pendant around his neck glistened faintly, the stone of which was a birthday present. He took it off and looked at it as he sat down, remembering that only a few nights before it had snowed, and that night he had played his wagalbo with his brother playing his potosa, one of the things he enjoyed most. He sighed, a tear streaking down the side of his face.

“I want you here, big brother…”

Days passed, and Ark’s arm grew stronger. He tried climbing the rock face everyday, but would only manage so far before slippery algae made him lose his grip. Fortunately the pool was deep there.

His attention was grabbed one day by the splashes of a series of plastic containers. Bemused, he swam out to the closest one, took it to the shore, and opened it.
Inside was one of his robots. He laughed with happiness, before eventually retrieving all of the containers, each housing another of his robotic creations. One of them held a letter, written in Dy’s scrawl:

If anyone finds these containers, please give them to my brother. He is a Yoshi, one of the Yamauchian races – he has maje magenta skin, a large nose, and looks like this:

There was a very amateurish drawing of him, which made Ark smile.

If you have found him but he has died, please bury these with him. They mean a lot to him.

Yours,

Dyluck T. Yoshi

Ark grinned. Maybe his brother believed he was alive?

For the first time in quite a while, he withdrew his wagalbo from his Mana Storage and played a happy tune.

Another few days had passed, and a seedpod had come into the cave. It was strange in the fact it seemed to have been opened, then sealed shut. Ark took it and opened it, happy to find Dy’s writing once more:

Dear Ark,

I don’t know if you’re alive, but I feel somehow that you are. Mum and Dad tell me to move on, but I don’t want to. I played my potosa up at the top of the stream at the waterfall today – it’s very lonely without you. I played your wagalbo solo parts – I hope you don’t mind, it’s a lot better than silence. Please find a way to come home soon.

Dyluck

Happy with the fact that his brother felt he was, indeed, alive, he set out to climb the rock face once more. Needless to say, he failed again. It dampened the spirit of the letter’s arrival immensely, and soon Ark found himself sobbing.

A long time (Ark had lost count) had passed since his arrival. Every few days, another seedpod would turn up, containing a letter from Dy. He tried climbing the rock face many times in one day, but it always ended in failure, slipping from one point or another. He knew he was losing weight, too, his diet consisting of a few bites of a mushroom, despite its filling qualities. There was the occasional fish, if he was lucky, caught using a fishing line made from debris. When he was not climbing the rock face, he would be working on his robots.

The letters no longer brought him cheer, but dread. It all seemed hopeless and futile, the only answer to getting out to being the other, feared option. Soon it reached a crisis point.

He dived into the pool and kept himself down. The pressure in his lungs began to build – he wanted it to become so unbearable that he would need to breathe, filling his lungs with water in the process. It built and built, but suddenly he rose to the surface. He didn’t have the strength to do it.

He swam to the shore and cried, before peering at his robots. Maybe they could help him?

He sat down, and with tears in his eyes, began disassembling the machines, and began to reassemble them into one single, hideous shape. It had four wheels, and on its chassis sat five limbs, all of which were retractable. Four of them had clamps on the end of them, large enough to fit around his arms and legs respectively. The fifth was like a scorpion’s tail, except this scorpion had a metal disc at its end, sharp enough to cut bone, and on the same height as his neck.

It sat before him, ready to be programmed its commands. He got out his device that allowed him to input commands, and connected it to the machine. He then stared at it, and began to type on the small keyboard:

1: On Voice Command “Activate”

He found he didn’t have the strength to do that, either. He screamed, before breaking down into shuddering sobs.

He noticed the pendant around his neck – the symbol of his brother, the symbol of futility, the symbol of a goal unattainable, the symbol of a dream turned nightmare.

He wrenched it from his neck and threw it into the pool with a yell. Its single, mournful green eye glared up at him from the bottom.

All around him were the memories of his brother – the place had become associated with him. He could no longer stay here – he had to leave before he tried it again.

He grabbed the robot and all the other parts, stowed them in his Storage, then satisfied he had everything he wanted, he took the seedpods out of his Storage, and threw them into a corner. He would be rid of Dyluck.

With the crude fishing line, he ran into the fungus-lit depths of Pandora, and began to think…deeply…

One day, Ark, if that was his name, found what seemed to be a refreshing pool with a waterfall from above. He kicked off his now well-worn shoes, his only clothing, and dived into the water. A strange, golden light spilled in from a narrow gap above, and if he remembered rightly, it was called sunlight. At the bottom was something green and shiny. Wondering what it was, he dived down to it, and picked it up.

It was a pendant, with a shiny green stone. Suddenly, a memory found its way to his consciousness: That’s mine. But why?

He had a brother…he loved him dearly…and he gave the stone to him…he was separated from him…by a flood…and he had tried to…

Everything that he had spent that time forgetting flooded back to him in an instant. Soon he found himself crying on the floor of the cave. Memories laced with knives surfaced, increasing his cries to wails.

“You seem sad,” a voice came.

He looked up and found himself staring into the face of…well, he didn’t know what it was, but it gave him a nasty shock. He scrabbled backwards, trying to get away from it.

“Don’t be afraid of my appearance. I can help you.”

“Who are you?” the Yoshi asked him, in a now deepened voice.

“Who am I? That doesn’t matter at the moment. But I know who you are. You’re Ark Beruga Yoshi. Your brother is Dyluck Thanatos Yoshi. His names…well, let’s say they don’t agree well with me.”

“What do you know? How do you know?”

The being pointed a bony finger at a pile of seedpods in the corner of the cave. “Your brother writes regularly. Or used to. The pods stopped coming months ago, now.”

Ark looked towards them.

“Yes, that’s right. He wrote to you. But I’m not surprised he stopped. He decided that keeping up his false hope wasn’t worth it, anymore. He never did love you, Ark.”

“He didn’t?”

“No. He wouldn’t have left you to go over the edge of the waterfall and end up here with all your painful memories unless he didn’t love you, would he?”

Ark looked at the long scar running down his arm. “I…guess so…”

“He isn’t really a person, is he?”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Syoro,” Ark answered after a pause.

“Well, a person protects and helps those of their own blood, don’t they? Wouldn’t that be in your definition of a person?”

“I…yes…”

“He’s hurt you really badly, hasn’t he?”

“…Yes…”

“Really badly. Painfully.”

“…Yes…”

“Then come with me. I can give you a place better than a squalid cave to live in, a robotics laboratory…and your vengeance. But there is one thing that you must do. Call me Master.”

“…Master? Why, Syoro?”

The beings red eyes flashed, and his skull face drew up close to his. “You want your vengeance, don’t you?!” it shouted.

“Yes,” Ark whimpered.

“Say it!”

“…Master.”

“Good. Come with me.”

“Yes…Master.”

“You’ll learn, Ark, you’ll learn, Ark…Ark…Ark…”

*          *          *

“Ark…Ark…hey, stop spacing out!”

His brother’s voice shot the memory to pieces. He turned to him, nervous.

“I won this playing Jioball,” Lich beamed, showing him a gold medal.

Ark looked at the medal. It was always Lich who won everything. Lich who got everything. Lich who had the friends. Lich who had the respect of many people.

“That’s nice.” Ark muttered. “Now get out.”

“Ark?”

“Get out. Get. Out. NOW!” Ark rose to his feet, holding the Spear threateningly. “We don’t want to go through before, do we?! GET! OUT!”

Ark fired a warning shot at Lich’s feet.

“Okay, okay, if you don’t want to talk, I’ll go! Gulto…”

Lich made his way back to the hangar door, looking back over his shoulder at Ark, who had turned his attention back to some parts. He shut the door silently.

Ark slumped onto the desk and cried, as the Zen Xi’Ara snickered to itself as it successfully finished re-enforcing why his owner should continue to hate his brother.