10. The Arks of the Cosmos

Knuckles yawned and stretched, enjoying the feel of a mattress that was undeniably softer than his harvested giant mushroom caps. Getting out of bed, he pulled the blankets approximately straight and looked at the little heap of clothing on the top of the dresser. Kestrel had gone out the evening before and returned with some changes of gloves and socks; the latter especially were a welcome sight. Sorting through the socks to find some approximately then right size was simple enough, but the gloves were a bit more difficult. None were the boxing style that Knuckles preferred, and perhaps more importantly, none were designed to accommodate his trademark knuckle spurs. With a slight grimace he pulled off his own - which were decidedly dirty at this point, and started comparing his hands to the offering. Most of these birds have skinnier fingers than I do anyway. Hmm, this pair looks close. He pulled them on, pleased to find they were stretchier than he had thought. The fingers were okay - although it felt decidedly peculiar to have a tube of fabric on each individual digit - but the claw-like spurs on his knuckles strained the fabric. The wrists were also looser than he preferred. Oh well. I'll wash mine and hope they dry before I damage this pair. I have to wear something, anyway. Oh great. NOW , I start shedding. A heavy dusting of scarlet hairs clung to the inside of the gloves as he pulled them off. He took the selected pairs of gloves and socks, and his own, and headed for the bathroom. There was a hair trap in the shower, at least. Come to think of it, the griffs have fur as well as feathers. I'll bet feathers don't clog drains. He remembered the first time he'd run into the problem. He'd been visiting Sonic for a few days after one of the adventures; the hedgehog hadn't seemed quite himself but Tails hadn't dared challenge him when he brushed them off, so Knuckles had simply invited himself to be Sonic's houseguest. The fact that Sonic had let him get away with such audacity was proof enough that something was wrong. Unfortunately, Knuckles had managed to clog the tub drain with his fur, which had stirred the hedgehog up, but not been quite what the echidna had planned. The pools on Angel Island, of course, had no such problems.

This time he knew better, and dropped the hair trap over the drain before turning on the water. Then he scrubbed himself with vigor, watching the water turn almost blood-like from the amount of red hairs sluicing into it. He had to scrape the hairs out of the trap three times before he was done. Then he gave his dirty socks and gloves a quick scrub and rinse, and hung them next to the towel - which was now also liberally sprinkled with red hair - before pulling on the borrowed gloves and socks. After putting on his shoes as well, he wandered out to see if breakfast had arrived.

It had, and Kestrel was halfway through a plate of the broth-covered pancakes. The echidna was surprised though to see Wave, leaning back and sipping tea. Knuckles joined them at the table and helped himself to the food. "Good morning, Kestrel, Wave. I hadn't expected to see you this morning," he added, speaking to the swallow.

"I hadn't actually planned to be here," she admitted. "But, I heard that you're collecting the Arks to merge them, and I would like to see that."

Knuckles paused in his eating and frowned at her. He got the distinct impression that there was more to her presence than that. "And?" he inquired, around a mouthful of cake.

Wave's expression suggested distaste at his table manners. She looked away and sighed, then continued, "I also have a feeling that there's going to be trouble, if you must know. But I don't know what."

Knuckles took a few more bites while he considered this and took care to swallow before asking, "You think the Chronos Rock won't be stable? Angel says that repairing it will prevent the Lightless Black from forming."

"It's not that," she said, but didn't explain further.

A knock on the door proved to be Marahuté's albatross guard, summoning them to the Lady's presence. As they walked towards the Gryphon Hall, Knuckles muttered to Wave, "She not only looks like Storm, she walks like him, too."

Wave gave him a slightly surprised look, and said, "Well, she is his cousin." Seeing Knuckles' shocked reaction, she explained, "Because of their size and strength, the albatrosses are traditionally the bodyguards for the rulers of the Babylonians and the griffs. That's why Storm follows Jet, in spite of their age difference. He's about as bright as a post, but it's his right and he's as loyal as anyone could ask for. Which is all Jet really cares about, is someone who'll do what they're told and tell him how wonderful he is." She scowled at the ground. "I wish he'd grow up," she muttered, presumably to herself.

Knuckles wanted to ask why she followed Jet, if he was so annoying, but controlled himself. It wasn't really his business anyway. And on second thought, there was probably more scope for her tinkering and building hover gear out on the road (or in the skies) with Jet than if she stayed in the cavern. Which brought up another question. "Are all the Babylonians, or their descendants, here? Or are there other caves around the mountains?"

The swallow gave him a thoughtful look. She glanced up at the stone beak as they reached the ramp to Gryphon Hall and started up it, then said, "Babylon was destroyed even longer ago than your Echidnan Empire. Most of our people were able to flee, because of our technology, even as the griffs were able to escape by flying. They were a sister race, of sorts. They - the ones with actual wings! - lived on the ground, ironically; while we, who had lost the ability to fly under our own power, lived in the flying Babylon Gardens and traveled by various artificial flying devices. But one of the robots ran amok, and subsequently the feathered god's anger, or a natural disaster, or whatever it truly was, left both civilizations shattered and Babylon itself crashed and buried. Some of us left the desert and mostly lost our technology and blended into the local cultures. The reigning families of both cities fled to the mountains and yes, there are several caverns, where we hid to wait out the disaster and preserved at least some of out knowledge and devices. Jet is the last of the current ruling family of the Babylon remnant, and Lady Marahuté is the current ruler of the griffs, although not the last of her line."

They had entered the hall as she spoke, and now she bowed to the Lady in her chair. Nox and his bronze-gleaming cohort were in their places flanking her, and a quartet of other dokan stood a 'safe' distance away, each with a large case in front of them. An additional albatross, that Knuckles had not seen before, stood on one side of the doorway, and Storm's cousin took up a post opposite him. Knuckles moved up the hall and bowed to the Lady but wasn't sure what to do next. Kestrel was looking curiously at the boxes. Wave simply marched over and opened one. Knuckles heard the soft sound she made in her throat as she lifted out one of the Arks, a short, hollow cylinder of polished granite, that could be worn like an oversized bracelet. The outer surface was carved and tinted green between plain borders, and he knew that it could store energy by merely moving through space and be made to release a burst of gravity at the command of its bearer. It was a remarkably innocuous-looking item, considering how incredibly dangerous it was. He was rather surprised to see Wave put it back in the case, with a brief pat, but she rose in his estimation for doing so; he'd rather expected her to object to the plan to essentially destroy the Arks by restoring the Chronos Rock.

As Wave reluctantly rejoined Knuckles and Kestrel, the echidna felt a surge of the same odd feeling he'd felt the day before, prior to Angel's appearing. Wave, Kestrel, and in fact everyone but the Lady were looking around wildly, several hugging themselves against a chill that wasn't actually temperature-related. The Guardian of the Dancing Clouds had her golden gaze fixed on a particular spot, and Knuckles followed her stare, just in time to see Angel do its reverse-evaporation thing again and appear right in Gryphon Hall.

The result was an explosion of half-smothered to fully shouted exclamations. Two of the people standing by the cases actually turned and ran from the hall. The two guards had both jumped forward, one taking up a position between the cases and the air Chaos, the other planting himself between the new arrival and Lady Marahuté. Knuckles clenched his fists, ready to defend either the bystanders or the Angel if a fight broke out. A tearing sound indicated that his spikes had won out over the gloves' fabric. Wave, beside him, merely gave a gasp of wonder and stared at the Angel in delight. Kestrel bristled, rousing his feathers, and edged into line with the guard between the Lady's chair and the Angel. The black gryphons had reared onto their haunches momentarily, and now sat in taut readiness, wings half-spread. Only the Lady herself seemed entirely unmoved and undisturbed.

Her voice rang out clearly over the chaos, speaking the language Knuckles didn't understand, but it calmed the remaining two dokan who had brought the Arks, and caused the guards and Kestrel to slick their feathers back down. They relaxed slightly but remained watchful; Knuckles did the same, now that a fight seemed less imminent. The gryphons also relaxed and smoothed their hackles, but remained seated instead of returning to their reclining poses. The Lady changed languages mid-speech, "I would ask you also, Guardian of the Waters, not to start any violence in this Hall. The Angel has merely come to remake the Rock, as we had decided yesterday. It is no threat to anyone in this room unless it is attacked first."

Knuckles already knew that, of course, but he figured she was translating the reassurance she'd given the others, to reinforce it for those who understood both languages. I didn't realize it was coming here, though. I assumed we'd be taking the Arks to that shrine it showed us – wait. "Wave," he whispered, "aren't there supposed to be five Arks of the Cosmos? We've only got four boxes."

The swallow blinked and looked away from the Chaos for the first time since its arrival. "Yes, there should," she whispered back, "and I don't think they'd put more than one in a box, the point is to keep them separated." Looking over at the golden griff, she asked, "Lady Marahuté, aren't we missing an Ark?"

"It is on its way," answered the Lady. She frowned as she looked at the door to the Hall. "I had expected it to be here by now, actually." She rose from her seat and came down to join them, churring a slight laugh as the guard and Kestrel made motions to block her. "Would you guard the Guardian from her own charge?" she asked. "Typhoon, Gale, return to your stations please. You,"she nodded to the keepers of the Arks, "may go if you wish." One of the two edged away until he felt he had enough distance between him and Angel to walk away from it and out the curtained arch, the other backed up to the wall, but made no move to leave. Mara nodded her approval.

The guards had not quite reached their posts when there was a commotion in the next room. Suddenly two familiar forms burst through the curtain on hoverboards, dodging past the guards and coming to a hover ten feet off the floor. "Jet?! Storm!" shouted Wave, who had recognized them even faster than Knuckles. She sounded completely appalled. "What do you think you're doing!?"

"Wave!?" Clearly the green hawk had not expected to see her there. Jet gaped a moment, then his eyes narrowed. "They're trying to take the Arks and you're helping them!?" The leader of the Babylon Rogues was clearly outraged by his lieutenant's betrayal. Wave shifted impatiently, clearly wishing she had her gear with her, then strode forward to stand just beneath Jet on his J-gear - gear that she had designed and built for him.

"The Arks are dangerous, Jet! Too dangerous to use, and they'll stay that way until they're put back together!"

"They belonged to our ancestors! We created the Arks to serve us, and I won't let you hand them over to him!" The yellow gloved finger jabbed a Knuckles who started at his sudden inclusion in the argument. He opened his mouth to object, but Wave beat him to it.

"We didn't do anything! Our ancestors discovered that the Chronos Rock was too powerful to harness so they smashed it in a vainglorious attempt to bend it to their wills, only to discover that in the process they also broke the mechanism that fended off the Lightless Dark! The Chronos Rock needs to be restored to prevent the Arks being misused again, accidently like we did, or on purpose like Doctor Eggman had planned! And I'm not giving it to him," now she jabbed her own finger towards the echidna, "but to the Angel, who's been the proper guardian of the Rock all along!"

Knuckles was trying to watch both the fight and the air Chaos, which had started shifting irritably in his peripheral vision. He really wished the quarreling birds would leave him out of it. Normally he had no objections to a good fight, but he remembered all too well what Chaos had done, and Angel's powers were probably equivalent. Suddenly Jet and Storm both dove for the cases containing the Arks. Wave flung herself towards the Arks and the Angel as well, the guards lunged towards Storm and Jet, and Knuckles prudently dropped straight down on the floor. The Angel phased somehow, becoming more diffuse but larger, and swung one arm that was suddenly impossibly extended around to hit all three of the Babylon Rogues, passed over Knuckles' head and tagged the guards as well. Then it collapsed in on itself briefly, and evaporated.

Knuckles sprawled on the floor, dimly aware that his mouth was hanging open. Wave was hanging, frozen in midair, stopped in the middle of her leap towards the cases. Jet's board had wavered on out of Knuckles' line of sight with a cry that seemed oddly pitched and quavery for a fourteen-year-old. Storm's board simply crashed into the cases and off tumbled the most grotesque object Knuckles had ever seen: about the size of an infant chao, the tiny albatross was bald except for a few patches of fuzz, wrinkled and damp. The oversized head bobbed on a scrawny neck as the beak gaped and the creature squawked shrilly.

"What happened? What did that thing DO?" Knuckles tore his eyes from the frozen Wave and the diminished Storm and looked towards the voice. An elderly - no, ancient - hawk stood unsteadily by Jet's board, querulously demanding an explanation. The head and facial feathers were nearly entirely white, but the body was still green, albeit a rather faded shade. Knuckle felt a smirk playing around his lips at the sight of the long white beard of feathers hanging below the gaunt beak. He was heartily glad that he'd dropped when he had, and that Angel appeared to have more self-control than Chaos had. Rapid footsteps were heard suddenly, and Knuckles looked towards the doorway. The two guards were standing frozen like Wave, one balanced impossibly on the tips of her toes, the other standing with open beak and raised hand, apparently mid-warning. Behind them, a small brown dokan wren pushed through the curtain, struggling with the last Ark case as it became entangled. Managing to get the case free, she got two more steps into the room before she stopped to stare.

"That will do, Jet." Knuckles turned belatedly to look at Marahuté. The gold-feathered Lady was unchanged and clearly furious, but it was an icy type of fury rather than the kind that screams and rages. Certainly her voice was cold enough to turn water to ice instantly. "What happened is you acted like an idiot and the Angel responded to protect that which it is responsible for guarding, to your own detriment and that of your friends. I think you had better collect your bodyguard," she eyed the squawking chick a moment, "and take him to the nursery. I'll have to see if I can convince Angel to undo what it has done, and it's not likely to be easy or soon. Don't just stand there gaping!" she snapped at the wren. "Put your case with the rest and then you two," she included the other Ark-bringer, who was still huddled against the wall, "had best return to your homes. Do not mention this to anyone!" Her voice was sharp enough to bore holes with and Knuckles had no doubt that the two scuttling out would obey. "Jet, begone!"

Jet opened his beak, then closed it with a snap and hobbled over to scoop up the fussing chick. He paused in front of Wave, still poised in midair. "Lady Marahuté," he began, looking worriedly at his mechanic.

"I will ask Angel to release her, as well as my guards," said the golden griff, in a slightly milder tone. "She is unharmed, merely frozen in time. Nothing can happen to her in this state."

"Oh. Okay." Jet took another look around the room, slightly shamefaced, then shuffled away. Knuckles waited until he had disappeared through the curtain and the chick's cries had died away before getting to his feet. He looked around the room. Wave, Kestrel, and the two guard albatrosses frozen, he and Lady Mara unaffected. The black gryphons were also apparently unaffected, both on their feet with their hackles raised and their tails lashing. For the first time, Knuckles noted the black chains, now pulled taut, that ran from their collars to the Guardian's chair.

"I am afraid, Guardian, that this has rather damaged our plans," said the Lady. "I will speak to the Angel, but I do not know if I can convince it to either restore these or to repair the Chronos Rock, at least not quickly."

"I understand," replied Knuckles. "And I assume a stranger, even another Guardian would cause more hindrance to you than help?"

"I fear so." She looked down, grimacing. "I'll provide you a guide to the closest dokan settlement. You should be able to find your way from there. When I get things restored, I'll send you a message through Wave. She, at least, seems to have some sense."

Knuckles was privately in agreement, but said, "Jet's young. Well, he was young." He was well aware of the irony of him making that excuse, given that there was only two year's difference in their ages.

Mara smiled faintly. "Yes, he is young, and proud of his power, and unfortunately every bit as talented as his father was. It is a pity that he died so young; no one else dares to even try to control his son. Except Wave, whom he won't listen to, of course." She walked over to stand in front of the suspended swallow and sighed. "Perhaps some time as a old man will force a little wisdom into his skull. Can you find your own way back to the guest house?"

"Yes Lady Marahuté." Knuckles bowed, recognizing the dismissal, and left.