Thornfalcon (The ARC Legacy Book 1)

by Matthew W. Harrill

  “How?” Adreana asked, her eyes strangely bright. “What's their intent? Are they hostile?”

  Io turned away from the ridge, a slight smile on his face. “How did they know we were coming? Look at the book we carry and what you can learn from it. Are they hostile?” He closed his eyes, lifting his head as if seeking a scent. “Mmmm, I don't think even they know that yet. Our actions will determine our safety. Be forthright. Respect the jungle.”

  A guilty look on her face, Adreana picked up a candy wrapper she had discarded moments before.

  Samantha turned away, smiling inwardly. Io missed nothing. “What do we do now?” she asked, attempting to keep the amusement from her voice. “If this is the last GPS point on the map, one would hope we would find a reason for landing.”

  “Unless this was just the last reading your mysterious map maker took before he became distracted by the real reason for being here.” Adreana pointed. “Look. There's a trail going off into the jungle past the plane. How about we follow it?”

  The trail was not much more than a slight flattening of the surrounding foliage, a drying of the compressed earth underfoot. Samantha led the way, Adreana in the middle with Io at the rear of their little group. The going was slow; more often than not she found herself slipping down muddy scars in the mountainside and before long her hands were stained red with the iron-rich clay.

  “Let's hope we aren't too far from the end of the track,” she said as they pulled themselves up a steep incline using vines that hung loose from the branches above. “I'm not cut out for a jungle trek.”

  “You have to hope the goal is worth it,” Io replied. “Under here.” He ducked and then dropped out of sight beneath the rotting horizontal trunk of a fallen tree wrapped in more vines. “Come on, the path is this way.”

  Adreana shrugged, not looking up at him, and hopped down into the darkness. “Watch out, Sammy, the rocks down here are slippery. Make sure to duck.”

  “Like I can't see for myself,” she muttered. Alone for the moment, she felt the isolation and oppression of the giant jungle trees above her. It would not bode well to be alone, lost with no point of reference. Movement caught her eye. A large head, too large to belong to a person, shifted in the foliage back up the path. They really weren't alone. “Io,” she hissed, “we aren't alone out here.” Not waiting a moment more, Samantha climbed under the fallen trunk.

  “What did you see,” Io said, turning to her.

  “Just a large head. The body was obscured by the foliage. It was following our trail. We need to hurry.”

  Io indicated their path ahead. “I hope you have a light. It will mean we move faster.”

  “You're kidding me,” Samantha groaned.

  Ahead of them lay the entrance to a tunnel. The bulk of the fallen tree had hidden an approaching a rock face from view. The forest grew overhead and there was no way to climb around it; the slope dropped to a precipice.

  Samantha turned on the light of her cell, shining it into the depths of blackness beyond. The ceiling was well above even Io's height, the chisel marks clear and concentrated. The tunnel had been carved from hard rock. “Well at least we don't have to duck,” she said and stepped in to the darkness.

  Holding her cell aloft, she led the way. The tunnel curved left making it impossible to see more than three feet ahead. The damp earth underfoot smelled loamy and organic. “We definitely aren't alone,” she said, her voice muted by the mass of rock above her head. Probably a good thing if her follower was close.

  “Tell me more about our friend back there,” Io whispered.

  “It was checking the trail we used, like it was tracking us. It looked to have a massive head, disproportional to its body. The eyes stuck out at funny angles. It was grotesque.”

  “Could be the jungle playing with your senses,” Adreana said from behind, pulling a silver object from her pack. Another light came on with a click. “Flashlight,” she added. “Save your phone.”

  Samantha laughed. “Thanks. Let's lead with the flashlight next time.” More light failed to give rise to an exit. The one saving grace was that the tunnel was cool, the heat failing to penetrate this far under the earth.

  They might have been in the tunnel for seconds, or an hour. Samantha found it difficult to keep track of time. “So what might our follower have been?” She asked in an effort to keep the silence broken, turning round with the light pointing along the floor.

  “Who knows?” Adreana replied, her hand held out to prevent the glare of the light from dazzling her. “He could be a man in a mask or somebody with a genetic deformity. There are many myths and legends around the island. I'd need to see our distant companion in order to work out if he conforms to any of the known stories. Round here, science and myth are intertwined. Just look at Io here. Angel? I mean, really?”

  “There are demons,” Samantha countered. “The whole world saw what happened twenty years ago. They were going to overrun the planet.”

  “So you say,” Adreana replied. “I wasn't there. In fact neither were you, mate. So we rely on stories, pictures. The evidence may be overwhelming but it's not first hand. What often happens, especially in isolated communities, will be an event that is interpreted by an elder or a wise man, written down and passed along to the next generation. A volcano blows its top and within five generations it's a titanic battle between a giant and a god, the land laid to waste as they fought. The information is wrong but the cultural memory is preserved. Fact becomes story becomes legend. If your angel here does something holy.” Adreana paused and turned to Io. “You can do holy things, can't you?”

  “I have no idea,” Io admitted. “Apparently I can lay waste to a mountainside and destroy half a city with nothing more than my own body, if you call such an act holy.”

  Adreana smirked. “Sounds more like a twisted case of divine retribution. But the point stands. In the past, people have turned to the supernatural as a means of explanation. Atlantis may have been an island sinking in an earthquake, sea level rise or a volcano blowing itself to pieces. Like Krakatau, only a couple thousand miles away from here.”

  Samantha stopped. “That argument's fine for isolated people, living in the jungle, divorced from the rest of mankind. Yet we come from a world where technology captures everything. You can't put a demon incursion down to supernatural battles when it's on CNN. Science is replacing religion. That's the core of the problem faced in places like your university.”

  “I agree,” Adreana said. “Well stated. People want to believe but they are finding nothing in which to put faith into.” She turned to Io. “You, mate, are the answer humanity seeks.”

  Samantha snorted. “And if Aeon Fall get hold of you they'll make sure nobody believes in anything ever again. What's contained in this book is itself a measure of belief. Ask yourself this, Adreana. Do people record crow patterns because there's an actual fact, proven and absolute, that crows in a certain formation will lead directly to a change in their circumstance? Or do they accept the sign given and find ways to make their fate come about for good or bad?”

  “You're talking about self-fulfilling configurations.” Adreana resumed their slow shuffle through the tunnel, holding her free hand out for balance. “The pattern makes the event much more likely because the believer wills it so. This in turn reinforces the pattern as prophecy.”

  Samantha repeated Adreana's comment, “Fact becomes story becomes legend, just mixed around a bit. Everything is self-fulfilling.”

  “I have to admit you both sound confused,” Io said.

  The girls quieted, waiting for him to continue.

  “Science replaces religion, prophecies become self-fulfilling. You're grasping at concepts, the fundamentals of which have been laid down since the very start of existence.”

  “And that is?” Samantha was intrigued. Was this the angel speaking or the memories of the man risen to the surface?

  “It's simple. Everything is connected. All life is one.”

 
The phrase set off alarm bells in Samantha's head. “Someone said that to Mom once, when they wanted to take her into a cult, for her own safety.”

  “Maybe they were right,” Io suggested.

  “You wouldn't make that assertion if you had met them,” she shot back.

  “All life is one,” Adreana pondered. “You talking about Gaia theory, mate?”

  “If your theory refers to all life being part of a connected organism, then yes. The ant is insignificant but the hive can enact miracles. Do you see?”

  “And where do demons fit in?” Samantha asked. “How does their invasion make our organism function any better?”

  “It causes mankind to react,” Io replied. “Much like you do to my comments. Your minds become broadened, your consciousness expanded.”

  “Making greater acts possible because I believe them to be within my grasp.” Samantha said, her voice filled with wonder. “Io, you're a genius.”

  “Self-belief is one of the most powerful tools granted to mankind. When applied correctly, the results seem like miracles. Miracles become stories become legend.”

  Up ahead, natural light began to turn the tunnel from black to shades of grey. “Look! We're nearly there,” Adreana pointed, her voice eager.

  Samantha could appreciate such a feeling. The dark, clammy tunnel to who-knew-where was oppressive and she was feeling the weight of so much rock over her head. “Can we pick up the pace?”

  The three of them moved toward the light, like a sapling in the jungle around them. More than once she stumbled on uneven rock from underfoot. The pace picked up as the light increased. Soon, Adreana switched off her flashlight.

  “Careful when we get outside,” Adreana warned. “The light will be harsh on our eyes and if this is the end of the trail, anything could greet us.”

  The tunnel twisted suddenly, sunlight kissing the tunnel wall. Samantha pushed forward, leaving her two companions in her wake. With the exit so close to hand, her need for space became overwhelming. Only the faintest need for caution kept her from breaking into a run and when she turned into the sunlight she was glad she hadn't done so. “Guys, we're not going anywhere.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Where's the path?” Adreana asked, sounding baffled.

  Samantha didn't turn, her eyes transfixed by the vista spreading out below her like a map on the internet, while her hands clawed for a grip at the edge of the aperture. The lowlands beyond the ridge they traversed were scrubby and filled with patches of trees. They stretched across a shallow slope until the distant edge of the formation was once again engulfed by jungle. Daring to glance down, she regretted the decision immediately. “That's got to be a hundred metres, maybe two. Io, fancy producing one of your self-fulfilling miracles? We could really do with a pair of wings, or at the very least another tunnel out of here.”

  “Is there a ledge to either side?” Adreana continued. “A path along the cliff?”

  Io put a hand on her shoulder, startling Samantha, who jumped on reflex. “Let me,” he offered, leaning out. “There is nothing, Adreana. This is a vertical rock face.”

  “So where's this bloody book taking us?” she yelled into the expanse.

  Samantha took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. A breeze played with her hair. At least there was one benefit to being up here. Calmer, she said, “We go back. It's not like there's a choice.”

  “And our friend back there?”

  Samantha shrugged. “One of him, three of us. We take the plane and work out how to stop a nuclear plant going critical.”

  “Or we hide,” Adreana countered.

  “No, we don't do that. Adreana, you've helped us more than I could ever repay. Porter Rockwell was there to kidnap me. His presence makes it personal. If I can aid my mother in any manner, it's now my duty to her, to everybody, to do what I can.” Samantha took a couple of steps back into the tunnel, space enough to find her cell. The ARC private network, fuelled by satellites around the globe, shone bright and full in the top left corner of the screen. She pressed the quick-dial and raised the phone, stopping halfway to her mouth. “Guys, we're not alone.”

  “Hello?” a voice from the phone queried. “Samantha? Sammy?”

  “Mom, it's me,” she whispered, watching the tunnel and not making a move. Rockwell had us. We escaped into the jungle with a little help. We've got a situation. You need to find Charlotte. Rockwell's goons have her. I'll call you back. I'm fine, just find her. She's in danger.”

  “Samantha? Where are—”

  Samantha cut off the call, replacing the phone in her bag as slowly as possible. She had heard his low intake of breath.

  In the dark, a figure waited, watching them, a homemade spear held low. The head was distended, the skull wide and flat, reminding her of pictures of the grossly-distorted demons her mom had once fled from.

  “It's okay,” she said, her voice as calm and reassuring as she could make it. Samantha slipped the strap of her pack back over one shoulder. “It's okay,” she repeated.

  Behind the figure, more of its' kind appeared, attired in a similar way, naked but for loincloths barely concealing genitalia. All were armed with spears. All had oversized heads of varying dimensions, eyes pointing up to the roof of the tunnel, out sideways at odd angles.

  “I know them,” Adreana said.

  “You do?” Io replied from behind Samantha.

  “Well, I know of them. They look like members of the Honihin mountain tribe. The masks are to frighten intruders.”

  “I'm surprised anybody's gotten close enough to study them given the impossible route in,” Samantha whispered out of the side of her mouth.

  The foremost of the tribe raised his spear and bellowed words in a language Samantha didn't recognise.

  “I don't think he's best pleased to see us in this tunnel.”

  “What gives you that impression? The waving spear or the threatening tone of his voice.”

  The tribesman took a sharp step forward, thrusting his spear at them.

  Samantha stood her ground. “I don't care what you do with your stick, little man. You're not pushing us off the cliff.” She spoke with such authority the tribe paused for a moment, looking at each other.

  “Let me forward,” Io asked. “I can't do any good from back here.” Shifting in the small space at the end of the tunnel, Io made his way to the front. “Listen,” he said, his hands raised in a gesture of placation. “We aren't here to hurt you. We're friends.”

  “Yeah, nice one mate,” scoffed Adreana from the back of their trio. “Try the five year old's approach to diplomacy.”

  However, with Io now in view the tribe collectively took a step back, turning to discuss something in frantic whispers. Their pursuer pointed at them repeatedly with his spear. A bead of sweat ran down Samantha's neck disappearing into the material of her top. The heat of the day filled the tunnel from behind them. She could feel the sun's rays starting to burn her skin as they stood, immobile. They needed to move.

  It appeared the tribe had reached a decision. Two of their number stood, spears planted vertically in front of them, while one disappeared into the darkness behind. The remaining two took a couple of steps forward, looking up at Io.

  “Friends,” he repeated, as if the word was part of a universal language.

  Placing their spears on the ground, the two looked up at Io from bended knee. One uttered a word, the same word, several times. “Agela”, he seemed to say. Then the pair knelt fully, bending forward at the waist, raising their hands palm up in a gesture of supplication. The pair began chanting.

  “What did you do?” Samantha asked.

  “You saw as much as me,” Io turned. “Adreana, do you know why these people might decide to fall down and worship me?”

  “Maybe they saw the footage of you falling out of the sky and destroying a city.”

  Moments later, the fifth tribesman returned, an elderly man hurrying in his wake. The elder had a face painted red with white a
round the mouth, and a crest of feathers arranged across the top of his head. The masked man dropped to the floor with his two fellows, again proclaiming the word 'Agela' from behind the grotesque mask he wore.

  The elder remained where he was, assessing both the reaction of his warriors, and the three strangers stood in his midst.

  “What do I do now?” Io asked. “Am I supposed to respond?”

  He began to kneel but the elder jumped forward in an instant, preventing him from getting any closer to the ground. “No, you do no belong in the earth.” His face showed concern.

  “You speak our language?” Samantha caught the old man's attention. “What's going on here? This word these men keep using: Agela. What does it mean?”

  The elder stared at her for a moment before looking back to Io. “Angel.”

  * * *

  Samantha had a lot to think over as the small group of tribesmen led them back through the tunnel, initially taking a turn into a fork the three of them had missed in the dark. The tunnel stretched on forever and they walked for hours. The torches the Honihin held spit and crackled, bundles of rags tied to sticks and likely dipped in something Samantha preferred not to know. Several times they had to be replaced. In the sooty darkness, Samantha had a long time to consider what she had witnessed. To a man, the Honihin had recognised Io for what he was, a fact everybody who had seen him up to until now had missed, with Aeon Fall the only exception. How did they know?

  “Can you see him for what he truly is?” She asked the warrior closest to her, getting no response as the man stayed stiff as a board, staring straight ahead.

  “They may not choose to answer you,” Adreana advised. “Don't assume they all know English. Of course, they might not answer because you're a woman. Papua New Guinea has a history of gender inequality; it's way behind the developed world, especially in the isolated parts.”

  The Honihin elder stopped and turned to Adreana. “Not true,” he said before resuming his march. The tunnel began to dip and at length they once again saw the faint glow of daylight ahead. Without prompting each Honihin warrior doused his torch at a sooty spot on the tunnel wall, depositing the brand in a crude basket woven from leaves.