The door opened into a long hallway made of the same gray material as the Undercage. Doors lined the hallway, each with several of the unknown symbols over them. They had to mean something to the monsters, but I did not understand what. As with their vocalized language, if I could call it that, the symbols were so foreign to my understanding that I had no idea of how to even begin to even try to understand them.
My innate curiosity, one of the gifts the Standing Ones bestowed me with, wanted nothing more than to understand them, to learn the monsters’ secrets. Not only would it make my escape easier, but it might give my people an edge against them, should they find Achila. Knowledge was power.
The rest of me revolted at such an idea. I could barely look at the face of the Poker, the fat lips that stretched and curved in its pre
dator’s smile, its bulging eyes, its sneer. Everything about these animals and what they did to my crew disgusted me. I feared being contaminated by them in some way, as if learning more about them would turn me into one of them.
A ridiculous thought, but one that plagued me. My fear, amplified by the panic and pained scents of my departed crew, held sway in my mind. Even though I’d been bred with the ability to understand and ignore this response, pushing past it was no easy feat. That fear might have been illogical, but I had plenty of other reasons to fear these monsters. My life and with it, possibly the lives of everyone back home, my son included, were at risk to them
Bright life-giving lights flooded every corner of the hallway. In addition to the doors with their strange symbols, a few small square tables draped with white coverings sat to the sides of the hallway next to the doors, including the one I moved through.
Soft to the touch, the cover billowed when I brushed against it. I lifted the closest corner, curious to discover what they hid. The table had a hollow area in the middle with a lower platform near the floor. its legs ended in wheels.
Before I had time to consider what the monsters used these tables for, thumping hooves echoed down the hallway. At the far end, shadows danced on the floor. Monsters were coming and if they found me here, my escape attempt would end.
I turned to the cart. I’d fit underneath it and knew how to stay as still as the grass on a windless day. But I didn’t know what the monsters used the tables for. No, that would be a big risk, one I wasn't ready to take. What about the other doors? Also a risk, but with the Poker’s Lightning Stick, it would be a risk I’d confront face to face, not hiding under a monster’s mystery table.
My decision made, I quickly moved to the next door down the hallway. The door to the Undercage required the Poker’s little box to open, but the other doors along the hallway each had a panel to their sides with a glowing grass-colored button on it. I took a chance on it, assuming they were the controls. Sure enough, the door silently swung open when I pressed it.
A cloud of death and rot hit me through the door, like the Poker’s breath amplified a thousand-fold. I should have chosen the cart or one of the other doors, but the monsters hoof sounds grew louder with each of their ponderous steps. Their harsh and guttural language carried to me, less wet sounding than the Poker’s. One of them laughed, and it didn’t heighten my fear as that animal’s vocalizations did. With more monsters so close, I had no other choice than to enter the chamber filled with the scent of death and decay.
The door silently closed behind me and I examined my new surroundings. Like the hallway and the Undercage, the walls of this chamber were gray. Instead of the same dull appearance, these walls reflected the light of the chamber. Not perfectly. Scratches and pockmarks pitted the surface, distorting the reflections.
At least I hoped so after catching my own reflection in one panel. My time in the Undercage left me too thin with a sallow color. I hoped I had the energy needed to escape. The excitement I’d felt upon defeating the Poker added to these hopes, but seeing what captivity had done to me did not fill me with confidence.
Thankfully, despite the scent of death and rot, the chamber appeared empty. It extended down the hall so far that the next door down lead to it as well. Large shelves rose to the ceiling near my side of the room. Beyond the shelves and the other door sat a tall box flush with the wall. Gray tables extended on each side, covered in an odd assortment of… I had no idea. I wasn’t a monster, and the Poker was the only one I’d seen on a regular basis. His tool I understood. He’d demonstrated it enough. The items on the table were a complete mystery.
If the chamber did not reek of death, I’d have given in to my curiosity and approached the tables, exploring the odd devices they held. There might have been something there to aid in my escape. Those scents kept me lurking on the far side of the chamber, waiting for the thunderous hooves to pass so I could escape it and continue down the hallway.
My poor luck returned. Instead of passing, the monsters stopped at the chamber’s other door. It opened, letting me hear their words unmuffled. As quietly as possible, I shrunk into the corner, behind one of the tall shelves. The monsters’ conversation ended and one of them entered the chamber.
Taller and thinner than the Poker, it had a different patterned hide as well. Instead of the reflective grey legs, torso, and arms, this monster only had grey legs. Its arms had the same pale color as its paws and head, extending to its shoulders. Here its hide turned white, covering the rest of its torso to its waist.
A hum emanated from the monster while it approached the tables. Unlike the noises made by the Poker, just hearing it did not spike my fear. Were it not coming from a monster, I’d have even called it melodic. Was this a different breed of monster? A better one?
I wouldn’t let it get my hopes up, but between its different hide and seemingly different demeanor, I wondered if it really was a different type of monster, maybe less monstrous? The Poker might have been like our Guardians, protecting the others. Being monsters, that protection might include torture and murder. If so, what was this monster and its purpose? Despite my desire to return to the now-empty hallway, I waited silently, watching to see just what this new monster would do.
It continued to hum and picked up one of the strange items on the table. Seemingly made of the same shiny gray material as the walls, it formed a long, flat triangle with a curved side, extending from the black handle in the monster’s meaty paw.
With that tool in its paw, it opened the tall box. The scent of rot and decay billowed through the chamber intensely when the Box opened, my fear joining it just as suddenly. From my position at the far end of the chamber and with the monster blocking most of my view, I couldn’t make out the items in the box to learn exactly what produced that revolting scent.
The monster grabbed several items from inside the box, each one dropping to the table between the monster and my side of the chamber. The first, a yellow brick, thudded against the shiny table showing its weight. A bright red cylinder joined it next, followed by another cube, this one white. The final item the monster took from the large box was a thicker, much darker red cylinder.
When it closed the door, most of the rot smell dissipated. The monster paused and breathed in noisily. It turned to face my direction, its beady black eyes narrowing while it bent closer to the items on the table. It breathed in again, its nostrils flaring.
It smelled each of the items and shook its head before its eyes surveyed the chamber once more. My fear, I realized. It smelled my fear. This monster must have been bred with a better sense of smell, though the rot and death apparently didn’t bother it. It was still a monster, after all. Not all of those foul scents disappeared when the door to the box closed. The items on the table smelled like decay and salt but not like the oceans back home. If the monster smelled my fear, it must have smelled those as well.
Thankfully, I realized I might have overestimated this monster’s sense of smell. After another loud sniff, it turned its attention back to the items on the table. Its free paw wrapped around one of the cylinders, lining it up parallel to its body. It placed the tool in its other palm against the cylinder at the very edge. With a single motion, it pushed the tool through the cylinder until it clanked against the table.
The salt and rot smell grew as the monster continued its work. With each strike of its tool, another leaf-thin slice fell to the table. When he had a small pile, he set his tool down, placing it lightly, almost reverently against the table. Next, it grabbed a large white platter from the other table and slid it in front of itself.
With grace I did not expect from a monster, it held one of the thin rounds it sliced off the cylinder and twisted it to resemble a flower. It carefully set it on the white platter and moved its paws away with a nod. I watched as it repeated this process four more times. This monster had to be an Artist.
When it picked up the sixth round, half of it dropped to the table. The Artist shrugged its shoulders and popped both parts into its mouth. Its jaw jerked up and down, filling the chamber with wet smacking sounds. With the scent of death and decay coming off the things it took from the large box, I never even considered the idea it might have been food.
What should I have expected? These were monsters, after all, little more than animals. Animals ate other animals. I knew that at an intellectual level even if I’d never seen or smelled it. I wished I never had.
The Artist, unaware of my disgust, continued its work. More rotting salty flowers joined the others before it moved on to the next cylinder, making smaller flowers. My disgust lessened the longer I watched, and I wondered why they went to such trouble. Animals ate to replenish their energy, they ate in order to survive. The Artist turned their food into a work of art, deliberately placing each decaying piece in its place.