by Ian Rodgers
“I kinda wish they’d put up that sign on the other side as well, don’t you?” I asked, and she shrugged.
“Absolutely! Those illusions were not exactly a fun experience,” Dora agreed, tone disgruntled by the memory of the Field of Mirrors. “That monster too was unpleasant. Though a part of me wonders how much gold I could of gotten if I captured it.”
“What’s this about catching and selling monsters? I thought you said you were a slaver back on Erafore?” I asked, and her smile drooped.
“I was. But the Yellowmoon Menagerie had a side business that specialized in capturing and taming rare and wild monsters,” she explained. “I was a lot more comfortable with that side of the business than the other. So, I spent a lot of time among the animals and monsters. I healed them, fed them, and occasionally disciplined them when they tried to eat the other workers or slaves.”
There was a fond smile on her face as she recalled some of the good times she’d had in the Cracked Land. “One time, we were hired to capture a Sphinx. The Saludans love those monsters. Love using them as guard animals, that is. Tracking it was easy, and capturing it was even easier, because Reesh had accidentally fallen into some Manticore droppings along the way, and the Sphinx thought he smelled like a sexy male! It was hilarious!”
I laughed at the absurd image that conjured up in my mind, and Dora giggled along with me. “We lured the Sphinx into the cage by using Reesh as bait. Boy, was he mad at us!”
“I imagine so!” I snickered. “How did you get him out of the cage after there was a Sphinx in the way, though?”
“Oh, we didn’t,” Dora stated, a wide grin on her face. “We just let the big gal cuddle Reesh, and when she fell asleep we gently and carefully extracted him. Then doused him in some water to get the smell of dung and musk off.”
“Oh, man! That’s hilarious!” I chuckled. “Here, let me tell you about the time Rosa befriended a Dire Moose…”
We spent the next hour exchanging stories and laughing at the antics of our friends. Talking about all the fun we’d had together made our current separation from them more bearable. Not to mention, Dora was finally opening up again!
‘Here’s hoping nothing traumatic happens to make her clam up again,’ I thought to myself as we kept flying in a straight line.
“Jellik, pull over real quick!” Dora abruptly requested, and I came to a halt in midair.
“What’s up, Dora?” I asked, and she pointed at a solid gold sign post a little way off in the distance.
“Can you fly closer? I saw a word that caught my attention, and I want to check to make sure we’re on the right path,” she explained, and I bobbed my ‘head’ and moved over to the sign.
Once we were close enough that Dora could read the runes, she stared at the sign before smiling.
“Yes! This is saying that the Hospice is just up ahead! We should be seeing it soon!”
“Finally!” I cheered, eager to get this done with. With a gleeful gait in my flight, I began to fly faster and faster towards our destination. Dora seemed to enjoy the new speed, whooping joyfully as the wind whipped at her hair.
In no time at all, a peculiar sight greeted us: Greenery, so foreign to this place of gold and white that when I spotted it, I got distracted and almost crashed into another giant golden canoe that was sailing through the sky.
“That must be the Hospice,” Dora declared, staring down at the building that lay before us. Unlike the other golden discs, this one actually had plant life growing on its surface! Surrounding the L shaped four story structure was a lawn with lovely hedges and trees, all blooming with cheerful and colorful flowers.
“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly.
“Absolutely! The layout of the greenery… the species of flowers… even the way the trees are spaced out! This is all a type of Healer’s doctrine!” the half-orc claimed. “There’s a school of thought among Healers that flora is integral to the healing process. Not just herbs for medicinal use, but for viewing and calming the mind and senses. Patients heal faster when they get to observe nature and beauty. Or, so this particular school of thought argues.”
“Interesting, I’ve never heard about that before,” I said, though I could see how that might be helpful.
“It’s fairly obscure,” Dora admitted. “Not really considered orthodox. My mother was an adherent to this method, though. She always made sure to have vases filled with flowers in the clinic.”
Dora then sighed. “Gods, it’s been so long since I’ve thought about my mother. Been a while since I’ve brushed up on my Healing and medical knowledge, too.”
“I’m sure Lady Shyla will be happy to help with that,” I assured her. That said, I began to descend towards the building, following behind the golden ship that was making a beeline towards the Hospice as well.
The golden boat landed on a large dock – also made of gold – that connected to the top of the ‘L’ of the building. Seeing various crates, boxes, and items being unloaded from the ship, I figured it’d be appropriate to land and seek out information on the Living Saintess.
Landing on an open spot, Dora quickly hopped off, allowing me to resume my time in my favored form. Together, we approached a group of white robed individuals checking the cargo that was arriving.
“Excuse us, we’re looking for Lady Shyla,” I spoke out, the magical translation device I’d eaten a while back allowing my words to be understood by the Healers.
Several of them turned to look at me and Dora, a few raised eyebrows and eyeridges were sent at my companions road weary attire, as well as my obviously Ooze-based body. But they didn’t comment on it, which was polite of them.
“Do you have an appointment?” one of the Healers – a brown fur covered bipedal lizard – inquired.
“I should. The name’s Jellik,” I said. “Or Jelly, depending on what Joris Cowl called me when he made the appointment with her.”
A snort rang out from one of the other Healers, who quickly coughed in embarrassment when reproachful looks were sent its way from the other robed figures.
“Apologies, your name just tickled my fancy,” it explained. Being an insectoid species, I assumed my name probably translated into something relating to royal jelly in the Healer’s native tongue, so I waved it off without issue.
“No worries. So, about that appointment?”
“Come this way, please,” an orange and pink haired female gnome requested, and we followed her towards the Hospice.
“I’ll take you to her office. Please keep your voices low as we walk through the halls,” our guide requested as we entered the building. A pleasant coolness overcame us as we stepped inside, and I shivered slightly at the sudden drop in temperature. Dora just looked impressed by whatever enchantments and spells had been used to control the heat throughout such a large facility.
“What exactly are Lady Shyla’s duties here in the Hospice?” I inquired.
“How much do you actually know about this place?” the gnome Healer inquired, and I wobbled, imitating a shrug.
“Just that this place is the finest medical center in the Aether. It can cure any curse or wound, and is renowned for advances in Healing magic,” I replied.
“That’s about the same for me,” Dora piped up. “Though it’s more of a myth among the Healers of Erafore because Lady Shyla herself, a legendary hero from the War of Fallen Gods, works here.”
“Lady Shyla is quite the talented woman,” the gnome praised. “She isn’t the strongest Healer we have, but she is without a doubt the most caring member of the staff. Her ability to bring a smile to any face is a treasure we dearly adore!”
“That’s nice to hear, I guess,” Dora said, the last part of the sentence muttered quietly under her breathe. “Didn’t answer the question, though.”
If the Healer heard her, she didn’t make any mention of it, and gestured to several wreathes of flowers hanging in the corridor we were walking – or in my case, rolling – through.
“Healer Shyla was the one who wished for us to put these flowers up, as well as petitioning for making the outside all nice and green. Some were skeptical at first, but ever since we’ve put in grass and trees and flowers, the Hospice has seen a 17% increase in recovery speed, and a 23% boost to patient – and faculty – morale!”
“Oh, so she’s in charge of the garden?” I inquired.
“Yes, it’s her personal project. Treats it like her baby,” the gnome chuckled.
We eventually came to a door that had a wreath of white lilies on it, and Dora and I exchanged looks. This had to be her room!
“Here we go, Healer Shyla’s office,” our escort said, smiling politely at us. “Just go on in! She has an open-door policy, and is quite nice, forgiving, and understanding… but, uh, try not to make her mad, please?”
Dora, who was in the middle of pushing the door open, paused midway. “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but when Healer Shyla gets upset, she can become very… foul mouthed,” the escort said, wincing slightly as she spoke. She hastily went to add, “Not that she’s a bad Healer or person! Her words are just a bit more… caustic than most are used to.”
“I spent a significant chunk of time around men who swore like it was nothing,” Dora replied with a shrug.
“And I spent a few weeks on a boat with gritty sailors after spending the winter in a harbor city. I think I’ve heard it all before,” I assured the kind gnome, who just gave us looks of pity before hurrying away.
Dora glanced down at me and I wobbled about to simulate a shrug.
“No idea what they’re worried about,” I said to her, and she nodded.
“Yeah, it’s probably nothing,” the half-orc agreed, and she pushed the door fully open, and stepped into the office of the legendary hero, only to be immediately slapped in the face by a string of such foul and potent swearing, I was surprised that the paint wasn’t peeling off the walls around us!
“No! NO! Celbrem, you… I am not some potion bottle you can just grab whenever you need a Healer! …No, I won’t send you anybody! We don’t do house calls, you knife-eared, pasty skinned, air-headed wimblethorp! Yes, I know what I just said!”
Standing behind a desk surprisingly not made of gold, but instead out of white wood, a beautiful woman shouted obscenities into half of a purple crystal ball. She wore the stereotypical white robe of a Healer, but it was heavily decorated with golden runes. A large golden heart emblem was sewn right over where her own heart would. Gold rings decorated each of her fingers, and she wore a necklace that had a half-dozen golden dove charms on it.
Her hair was hot pink, and looked wildly out of place in the austere and stark office room. It appeared rather frazzled, though, and Shyla reached up with a hand and absentmindedly messed with it in her fury. Sky blue eyes were filled with utter disdain as she glared at the communication device in her hands.
“If he really is who you think he is, then send him over to me so I can diagnose him! Celbrem, no! No experimental memory restoration spells! Not after last time!”
She let out a grunt and shook her head, naked disbelief on her face. “Fine then, you cantaloupe brained moron! I’ll find a way to get someone over to you so they can fix him up! …What? Oh, no, you did not just say that! YOU take your attitude and shove it back where it belongs! I’m not afraid to sic Danica on you!”
A vicious grin split the heroine’s face, and she nodded. “Oh, yes, I would! And did you know she’s recently gotten into physical comedy? …Yeah, that’s what I thought!”
With a victorious cackle Shyla slammed the piece of the crystal ball she’d been holding down onto her desk, where it clicked into place with the other half of the magical communication tool.
Huffing, she sat back down behind her desk and carefully straightened out her hair and robe before shooting Dora and I a winning smile.
“Hello, there! I’ve been expecting one of you!”
I shared a wary look with Dora, who also appeared to be taken aback by the sudden shift in attitude.
“Err, hello, ma’am,” Dora said, bravely speaking up. “My name is Dora Halfmoon. And this ball of purple next to me is Jellik. We’re, uh, we’re Chosen Ones, and were wondering if you could maybe help us?”
“Come on in! Sit, and we can discuss matters!” Shyla the Living Saintess said, smiling broadly and beckoning them inside. Two chairs suddenly rose out of the floor: marble, like the substance they’d appeared from.
Nervously, Dora and I entered the office. Now that I wasn’t being blasted with some of the most horrific – and frankly imaginative – swears I’d ever heard I was able to get a better look at the interior décor.
It was bland. That’s really all that could be said about it. Above her head, a clerestory window admitted plenty of Luminoth’s trademark white light, filling it up with a cheerful aura. The desk – which had the ever-present, seemingly universal stack of paperwork all desks seemed to possess – was made from white colored wood, and the marble tiles on the wall, ceiling, and floor were also a shade of white. The bookshelves weren’t, but they were made of gold, like almost everything else in this dimension. The books and scrolls in those shelves all had long and complicated titles, and referred to advanced types of Healing and Light magic.
Glancing away from the books, it was hard to imagine this woman – who didn’t look older than thirty – as a heroic figure who’d helped banish the Void from Erafore four hundred years ago. Then again, it was also hard to imagine her being capable of swearing up a violent storm, but I’d heard it myself.
Carefully bouncing up into one of the offered seats, I couldn’t help but think I’d been doing a lot more talking to people who were behind desks than I’d expected when I first made my way into the Aether. Dora eased into the seat beside me, the look on her face telling me she was having the same thought about desks.
“Now, first off, I want to say that we were all surprised to hear that you got lost,” Shyla said, looking at me directly. “None of us expected you to take so long on that planet full of carnivores. Because of that, your whole trip got derailed. Now, you’ve spoken to Dorsed back in the Elemental Plane of Fire, and Danica when you passed through the Elemental Plane of Water. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Lady Shyla, it is,” I informed her. “I was making my way towards Celbrem in the Elemental Plane of Wind, when that strange scream occurred and tore me out of the dimension I was in.”
“What was that, anyways?” Dora asked, a frown on her face. “I also encountered it. Though in my case, it actually turned out to be a good thing, as my friends and I had been cornered by two figures who wanted to kill me. Called themselves the ‘something something of Typhon,’ and claimed to be related to each other. Somehow.”
Shyla paled and a look of horror etched itself onto her face.
“You did? What did they look like?” she demanded, leaning in as she gripped the desk hard enough to cause cracks to appear.
“Um, one looked like a hand, but he was big, and hovered. There was a mouth set in the palm, and the fingers all had sensory organs attached to them, sort of like eyestalks,” Dora said, worry in her tone as she recounted the identities of her stalkers. “At first, he was attached to a normal looking body’s left arm, and seemed to be controlling it.”
“As for the second one, he was really fat and ashen skinned, and had bone spikes jutting randomly from his body. He always seemed hungry, too, and at one point he went insane and started eating himself!” Dora continued, revulsion in her voice as she spoke of the second entity. “But his blood was a strange black ichor, and it transformed into bizarre monsters that attacked me and my friends.”
“The Hand and the Flesh,” Shyla muttered to herself, concern in her eyes.
“I’ve heard a bit about Typhon and his spawn, myself,” I added. “And that definitely sounds like two of the five.”
“Six, actually,” Shyla amended, shaking her head. “There are – or, rathe
r, were – six abominations birthed from Typhon’s corpse. One of them, Power, has not been seen in millennia, and is rumored to have fallen out of favor with the others.”
“You know about these guys, Lady Shyla?” Dora questioned, eager for answers.
“I know of them, yes,” the Heroine of Light said, a complex expression on her face. “They’re akin to boogeymen here in the Aether. They are all aspects of Typhon’s final moments. I know only two by name: Rath, the Last Breath and Dying Curse, and Bolgoros, the Last Meal and Flesh of Typhon. The latter of which is no doubt the ‘fat one’ who chased you, Miss Dora.”
“What do they want? I mean, besides wanting to kill Chosen Ones,” the nervous half-orc asked.
“The Spawn of Typhon are servants of the Void,” Shyla said darkly. “Where the World Rebellion operates almost exclusively in the Mortal Realms, Typhon’s accursed brood serve the interests of Zard and the Void here in the Aether. Worse, there are countless other abominations who aid them in their unholy mission.”
“Oh. Well, that’s… unpleasant,” Dora said lamely, unsure of what else could be said.
“You shook them off your trail, though, which is good. It means you and Jellik are safe. For now,” the older Healer said, a grim look on her face. She then shook her head, pink hair dancing. “It’s clear to me I need to send you away as soon as possible.”
“Wait, what? But we just got here!” I exclaimed indignantly. “Do you know what we had to do to get to this place?!”
“And you weren’t supposed to be here until much later,” Shyla scolded me. “Joris and the rest of us all planned for you to go through us in a specific order. We didn’t account for portal mishaps, new Chosen Ones appearing, Reality Screams, and the rest of this mess. But it’s very important you do so, or else our plans will unravel. Well, unravel more than they already have!”
“Reality Screams? Is that what that strange cry is called?” Dora asked, picking up on that name.
Shyla sighed but nodded. “I don’t know much about them, but it’s a phenomenon that occurs when a lot of gods and powerful entities are extremely mad or upset about something. Sorry, but the finer details elude me. You’ll have to ask Celbrem for more specifics.”