Chronicles of a Royal Pet- Heroes Collide

by Ian Rodgers

  Sure, it thought it was all fun and games now, but what if he actually managed to hit it? Would it get mad and kill us all with its overwhelming power? Or would it curse us in some cruel manner? I didn’t know, and I was growing worried for him and the rest of us.

  Dora seemed to reach the same conclusion I had, her own expression twisted into one of worry, and she reached out and slapped him on a pauldron.

  “Calm down, Gaelin. The more you try to mess with it, the longer it’ll hang around. Hear that smug chirping? It’s taunting you, Gaelin. It wants you to try and hit it because it finds your attempts at doing so humorous. Just pay it no heed, and maybe it’ll leave us alone. And who knows, maybe it’ll help us by leading the way to civilization.”

  Gaelin grimaced but sighed in defeat. “Fine, I’ll try your advice. After all, you’re the vet, aren’t you?”

  “Glad to see you’re finally seeing sense,” the half-orc said happily.

  Dora’s words of wisdom worked, for after a few minutes of Gaelin ignoring the cheeping and chirping, as well as paying no heed to the breeze slapping him in the face from seven wings flapping at once, the bird seemed to huff indignantly before flying off, leaving us alone.

  “Well, now that we’ve solved Gaelin’s bird dilemma – at least for now – what’re we doing next?” I asked as the bird disappeared into the horizon of Luminoth.

  “We’ve been walking across this golden disc for close to an hour. Should we take flight and hope that we can find a trace of civilization and ask them to point the way forward? It worked last time,” Dora suggested.

  “Last time we weren’t on a deadline. Or being directly threatened by Void spawn. I think we need a faster, more direct approach,” I replied.

  “Makes sense, but I don’t think they’ll dare enter Luminoth, even if they’re desperate,” Dora pointed out. “We’re safe, for now.”

  “Then, should I summon the Wanderer’s Bridge? It got us near our destination last time,” I offered. Before Dora could respond, Gaelin spoke up.

  “Hey, I hate to interrupt, but there is a flying golden canoe coming straight for us. Should we be worried?” Gaelin asked. True to his words, there was indeed a golden canoe coming towards our position.

  It was nigh identical to the flying ships Dora and I had seen plying the luminous skies when we’d ventured through the Elemental Plane of Light earlier. The only difference was this one had a great big purple and red star painted on its prow.

  “Do they have sky-pirates in Luminoth?” Dora wondered.

  “Well, they do back on Erafore. Or, they did, before I killed Bolos the Stormbringer and stole his gnomish flying ship,” Gaelin mentioned.

  “Not helpful,” I said dryly. I sensed a familiar presence alongside the golden ship, and perked up. “What is helpful, however, is your friend, Gaelin.”

  “My what? …Oh. Oh no!” the halberdier moaned.

  “Yeah, that’s definitely a seven-winged dove leading the ship to us,” I said cheerfully, generating a tendril and waving at the incredibly powerful bird that was flying next to the vessel.

  A few minutes later the impressive ship stopped right above us. A series of golden discs detached from the side and floated down to us, forming a gangplank next to a hatch that slid open.

  “Are you three called Jellik, Dora, and Gaelin, by any chance?” a mauve colored bat-person asked us, and I bobbed up and down, emulating a nod.

  “Yes, that’s us,” I shouted back, and they beckoned us over.

  “Lady Shyla sent us to bring you to the Hospice. She awaits your return,” the man-bat said.

  As we proceeded up the hovering gangplank, Gaelin’s feathery companion swooped down and perched atop his helmet with a trill of satisfaction.

  “Argh! Stupid bird! Leave me alone!” Gaelin shouted angrily, reaching up and futilely trying to grab the dove, which flew off over to nest in Dora’s blonde hair.

  “STOP!” the bat-person cried out. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

  “Ow! Not so loud!” Dora winced.

  “That is the Celestial Dove! What are you thinking, trying to harm it?!” the sailor exclaimed in horrified disbelief.

  “The what?” Dora and I asked simultaneously, while Gaelin replied with a more distasteful, “Who cares?”

  “The Celestial Dove is the embodiment of flight! The sovereign of all avians, and the master over all who fly,” the bat-like man explained, reverently bowing his head towards the seven-winged bird atop Dora’s head. “To try and harm it is to bring the animosity of every creature with feathers and wings down upon you.”

  “No way that thing is important. It’s just a dumb bird that won’t leave me alone!” the halberdier scoffed.

  “I don’t know about that, Gaelin,” I said slowly. “It has X-ranked levels of magic, at a minimum. This thing could very well be the god of birds this man claims it is.”

  “I thought phoenixes were the gods of birds,” Gaelin retorted.

  “No, phoenixes are the loyal knights of the avian court. The elite servants of the Celestial Dove,” the bat-man revealed. “Where phoenixes, both Trueborn from the Aether and those birthed on the mortal planes, die and are reborn from ashes, there is only ever one Celestial Dove, and it is reborn from a secret nest that straddles and intersects the Elemental Plane of Wind, Light, and the Heavenly Lands themselves.”

  The sailor gave Gaelin a stern glare. “Harm the Celestial Dove, and every single creature capable of flight will hunt you. Every avian will despise you. Everything with feathers and wings become your mortal enemies. From the humble mud-pigeon to the dreaded Sky Rending Rocs, they will desire your demise.”

  Gaelin glared back, though his attention wavered between the sailor and the Celestial Dove. Eventually, the halberdier snorted in disgust but backed down.

  “So long as it doesn’t bother me, I too shall not attempt to hurt it,” Gaelin grunted. The divine bird chirped sorrowfully at his attitude, but Gaelin just stalked off into the ship’s interior to get away from it.

  “So!” I coughed, getting the man-bat’s attention. “Back on track, when will we arrive at the Hospice?”

  “Oh, uh, a couple of hours. No more than five at our usual speed,” the sailor replied. Behind us, the gangplank retracted and the hatch slid shut. Pale green lights filled the interior of the hold, and we made our way through the ship. We passed by other sailors, many of them staring in awe and disbelief at the Celestial Dove perched atop Dora’s head.

  “This is a pretty fancy vessel,” Dora praised. “Can you use it to do other things, like travel to other dimensions and planes?”

  “It is possible to make short trips to other realities; however, these ships are designed for primary operation in Luminoth. They’re solar powered, so without the bright light provided by this Elemental Plane, they can’t fly,” explained the man-bat.

  “So, the only places you could travel to are ones with plenty of sunlight, then,” I mused. “I take it Ignatum and the Heavenly Lands fit that bill?”

  “Yes, that’s right, you can occasionally see these ships flying around in those other planes of existence,” he confirmed.

  “Impressive,” I murmured.

  The sailor eventually led us to a small room that resembled a cozy tea parlor. There was a table that had cups and dishes, and a platinum tea kettle that was enchanted to heat water to the right temperature. We took our seats in the room, thanking our guide as we did so, who bowed and left.

  “Well, this is nice. We’re traveling in style for once,” I noted, pouring a few drops of tea into a cup and sampling it. “Hmm. Minty.”

  Dora sighed in exasperation for some reason upon my pronouncement of the type of drink being served. Noticing my confusion to her reaction, the half-orc gave a weak grin.

  “My mother called me Dora. My father called me Ildora. The latter means ‘mint leaf’ in orcish. And, it just so happens to be my favored kind of tea as well. Why do I keep running into it wherever I go?”

  �
�Blame Fate,” I replied simply. Dora tilted her head before nodding in acceptance.

  “Yeah, that works.” She poured herself a cup and drank it slowly, savoring the taste as well as the pleasant warmth.

  “Been a while since I last had a hot drink, or a hot meal,” I said, mostly in an effort for small talk. Dora nodded in agreement.

  “Dried and salted jerky, and other rations and preserved foods lose their appeal quickly,” the half-orc commented.

  “Ever had fish jerky? That stuff is foul,” I mentioned, recalling my time on a boat sailing to Drakon. More than one of the meals onboard had used it in a variety of dishes.

  “Can’t say I have, not a lot of seafood in the Cracked Land,” Dora replied. “I have had jerky made from all sorts of monsters and animals, though. Manticore, Sphynx, Cockatrice, vulture, you name it!”

  We chatted some more on different foods. Dora mentioned some traditional orc dishes that she’d sampled while in the Dreadlands, specifically in the jungle, and I told her about a couple of fun foods I’d tried while adventuring in Orria. She seemed especially interested in the Qwanese noodle dishes I mentioned sampling a few times. The Celestial Dove even joined in the conversation from atop Dora’s head, chirping eagerly whenever we mentioned exotic fruits.

  “Do the Qwanese really make soup out of bird nests?” she asked me, and I shrugged.

  “I’ve heard it mentioned but never seen or tried it myself,” I admitted.

  “Well, that’s one good use for a bird, then.” We looked over and nodded in greeting at Gaelin as he entered the room.

  “What took you so long?” I asked, pulling out a seat for him. He looked down, embarrassed.

  “I got lost.”

  We both snorted at him in amusement, and Gaelin huffed before gingerly sitting down. The chair groaned a bit, but held.

  He cast a baleful look at the Celestial Dove but thankfully chose to just ignore it.

  “So, what kind of tea do we have here? And does it come with cookies or something on the side?” he asked as he pulled off his helmet.

  “Mint tea. And no, there aren’t any snacks. Besides rations, but that doesn’t seem fitting for this setting,” Dora stated. Gaelin grimaced at the mention of rations.

  “Gods, I hope there is real food at the Hospice. I haven’t had a good meal since I came to the Aether! Ugh, by Cynthia, do I regret not buying a few of those meat skewers back in Down…”

  “We didn’t have much of the local currency to spend on it,” I pointed out. “Also, those were roasted mushrooms on sticks that stall was selling, not meat skewers.”

  “Really? They looked like meat chunks,” Gaelin said. He then shrugged. “Well, food is food.”

  “Hey, while we have you here, can you please explain to us your wild and worrying hatred for birds?” Dora asked him. “It’s worrying, because you’ve gone out of your way to harm them in the past, and this, uh, altercation with the Celestial Dove has me concerned.”

  Gaelin folded his arms angrily at the assertion. “When I was younger, I had a best friend. We played together all the time. One day, however, we went too far from town and accidentally disturbed a flock of Red Ravens. They descended on us, pecking and scratching madly. He saved me by pushing me down the hill into a nearby stream. But he wasn’t so lucky. He survived the attack, only to die in his bed from the injuries a few days later.”

  He clenched his fists as he said, “I will never forget. Nor will I forgive. I’ll always hate birds.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said sympathetically. Red Ravens truly were nasty avian monsters that were extremely aggressive and territorial. To die by their talons was not pleasant for anyone.

  Dora looked like she wanted to say something comforting, but didn’t know how to articulate it. The Celestial Dove also looked repentant, as if ashamed fellow birds had caused a Chosen One such harm in the past.

  We were brought out of our depressed musings by the door to the waiting room sliding open, and an odd goat-like bipedal sailor beckoned for us to leave.

  “We’ve reached the Hospice. We made good time, thanks to the blessing of the Celestial Dove,” the man said, bowing his horned head respectfully towards the seven-winged bird still sitting on Dora’s head. Said avian puffed out its chest proudly at the praise.

  Upon exiting the ship, we were greeted with the sight of lovely green trees and hedges arrayed neatly on the golden lawn of the Hospice. The famous hospital looked the same from the first time Dora and I had seen it, and Gaelin took in the sights with an awed grin.

  “This place looks amazing! Almost worth getting sick for a chance to stay here,” the halberdier joked as he walked inside.

  “I think it’d take more than a bout of the flu or a broken leg to get a room here,” Dora mused. “Simply being in the Elemental Plane of Light would heal those afflictions in a few hours. The Hospice treats the most horrific and difficult of conditions, like a god given curse, or the most virulent of plagues and poisons.”

  Following the path Dora and I had used the first time the two of us had been here, we reached the office of Lady Shyla in no time at all, and politely knocked on the door. It swung open almost immediately, admitting the three of us.

  Upon entering, I paused, and peered closer at the Living Saintess behind the desk.

  “Is something the matter, Jellik?” the blonde Healer asked me, as Dora and Gaelin filed into the room.

  “Um, not to be rude, but, uh, what happened to your hair?” I asked, and Dora blinked in surprise when she too noticed a thin streak of grey slicing through her otherwise golden locks. The Saintess frowned and reached up to inspect her hair, sighing when she spotted the grey strands between her fingers.

  “You know how each of us have a curse specifically tailored to our nicknames?” she asked us.

  “Um, yes. Celbrem can’t talk or communicate with normal people because he was known as the Silent Storm when he helped defeat the World Rebellion. And Grandor apparently has no emotions when he’s not near Chosen Ones or his fellow cursed thanks to his Hollow Stone title,” Dora said, and Shyla nodded.

  “And then there’s Dorsed the Weeping Flame and Danica the Laughing Tide, the former constantly feeling depressed and experiencing the sorrows of those around him, and the latter has to make people smile and laugh or she starts to feel physical pain. All part of the Void’s foul sense of humor,” I added, having met the two of them personally.

  “Exactly. The six of us each have a curse made exclusively for us,” the legendary Healer stated. “As for me? My title was ‘the Living Saintess.’ So, where my companions are cursed, yet unchanging in physical appearance, I am cursed to age constantly.”

  She pointed to her grey hair. “See this? I grow older at an accelerated rate. But, once I’ve aged to be ninety or so years old, I begin to age in reverse until I hit my starting age and appearance. And then, the process starts all over again.”

  “How awful!” Dora gasped, horrified at the thought, and Shyla nodded.

  “Yes, it is a most unpleasant experience for me. You think aging normally is bad? Try doing so in reverse! The snapping of tendons as they loosen up after being tightened by arthritis…” the Saintess shuddered in horror. The Celestial Dove chirped sadly for her suffering.

  Shyla looked at our group, and blinked in surprise when she finally noticed the ‘hat’ on Dora’s head was actually a living creature.

  “The Celestial Dove? What is it doing here with you?” she asked in confusion.

  “Honestly, it was following Gaelin,” I said, jabbing a tendril at the armored young man. “But, because he has a deep, almost fanatic, hatred of all things feathery and bird-like, we thought it’d be best if Dora was the one to act as the Celestial Dove’s roost.”

  “It’s surprisingly comfortable,” Dora commented. “Not too heavy, and rather soft. I’d wear hats more often if they were more like this little fellow.”

  The Celestial Dove tweeted smugly at the praise given to it. Gaelin
clenched his fists hard, the grinding sound quite noticeable in the enclosed office.

  “So! What are our tasks?” I asked Shyla, who steepled her fingers.

  “For Dora, she is to be my apprentice for a short while here in the Hospice. She is one of the few people in existence who knows the Restore spell, and there are a number of tricks I hope to teach her with it,” she revealed. “Jellik, I want you to practice your alchemical skills. There are a number of poisons and curses the World Rebellion loves to use that can only be properly handled with a well-made potion.”

  She glanced at Gaelin. “As for you, Mister Gaelin… I’m planning on having you go through a thorough course of curse treatments due to your Berserker armor, but I think therapy is something you need as well.”

  “Beg pardon?” he uttered, raising an eyebrow at the Living Saintess. His confusion was mirrored by the rest of the party.

  “Your hate for the avian species is clearly more of a psychological issue than you seem to realize. You need to let it go, or at least find a way to work around it, or else the Void will be able to take advantage of it,” Shyla explained as she leaned back in her chair, frowning at Gaelin. “To that end, I will have a few Mind Healers help you with your problem.”

  “I don’t have a problem!” Gaelin replied angrily.

  Just then a quick string of timid knocks were heard as the door to Shyla’s office was struck by a quick string of timid knocks, then opened to reveal an anthropomorphic swan wearing the Hospice’s Healer robes.

  “Um, Lady Shyla, we have a patient who needs to see you urgently…” the avian-featured Healer began softly in a feminine voice, only to let out an ‘Eep!’ of fear as Gaelin saw her feathery appearance and unwittingly unleashed a powerful killing intent.

  “Eeek! Iwillcomebacklaterexcusemesorry!” the swan-shaped Healer cried out rapidly, slamming the door shut in an effort to escape the bloodlust she felt pressing down on her.

  “You see that?! That is a problem, you little brat!” Shyla immediately shouted at Gaelin, her right eye twitching angrily. “You just scared away my best nurse with your insane hatred for birds!”