Aaron stood looking at two identical doors that were plain and nondistinct, like any door you would find for entering a bedroom or bathroom. They stood there in the void as if on showcase for a door salesman who only sold one type of door. The dwarf looked to his side where shadow Corey was grinning too widely and rubbing his hands in a somewhat maniacal fashion. It was just another reminder of why Aaron was beyond his tolerance for this strange realm. “So we just go through one of these doors to find the gnome and get back home?”
Corey’s crazed features did not change, but a deep guttural chuckle emitted slow and methodical from deep in his throat. As the street elf slowly began to melt and mix back into the void, Aaron paused to reflect on how they got here.
The decision to find and use a Scryer was something the dwarf would readily own. Scyers were mysterious and often powerful wielders of magic as they could look into the past, future, and present. They typically provided portents, fortunes, and prophecies, all for a hefty price. Knowing how short they were on gold and not wanting to deal with another hacking incident like the Yakuza, Aaron was all too ready to accept Swift as their scry for finding the gnome. Maybe he should have inquired about Swift’s scrying skill, or maybe Swift should have been more forthcoming about his lack of skill; regardless, Aaron felt that was a moot point shared by the both of them.
Looking forward again, the doors remained unchanged. After accepting the shadow creature’s favor, Aaron had expected to walk aimlessly through the void, eventually arriving at some magical path leading them to their goal of locating the gnome. Then there would be another task to find their way home, leading to the shadow creature betraying them and a grand fight—but, no. As soon as the dwarf accepted the shadow creature’s offer, the doors were just there. While part of the dwarf was relieved about not needing to fight a creature of the void on its own turf, somewhere deep down inside, the ball of lead sat turning in his gut, making him suspect this option would be much worse.
Swift said something to the shadow creature, but Aaron did not look up in time to read what was said.
“I don’t know.” Corey’s face was spread and distorted across the void as the shadow creature continued to merge with its environment. The maniacal smile remained, stretched long and thin. “But I suggest you enter a door quickly if you’d rather not find out.”
They looked at each other, acknowledging the creature’s warning. Together, they strode forward to the respective door standing before them. However, they were quickly yanked back together as their conjoined arm refused to let them walk in separate directions.
Shaking his head, Aaron walked toward Swift’s door and collided with the orc as Swift started walking toward the dwarf’s door.
“Nahcolite, Swift!” Aaron rubbed head. “Just pick a damn door.”
Without waiting for the orc to respond, the dwarf walked briskly to the door closest to Swift, opened it, and walked inside, pulling the orc along.
# # #
The room was hushed, dimly lit, and filled with a fog of burning sage. Orcs were crammed tightly together in the small room. Some were well dressed, others were more casual; some bowed their heads, and others chanted as they gently shook a rattling instrument and softly beat a small drum. Small bowls of burning herbs and incense were at the center of the room, and Aaron was pretty sure he could make out the form of an orc lying down amid all the lit bowls, though it was difficult to see around the bodies and appendages of the surrounding orcs. Wanting to get a better vantage of the center of the room, Aaron took a step forward but was quickly pulled back by his arm.
Swift vehemently shook his head and signed his disagreement with Aaron’s action.
The dwarf frowned when no words appeared over the orc’s head. Aaron shrugged and silently motioned that he did not know what was being communicated. He turned back to the crowd’s focus but was again yanked back by their conjoined arm.
Swift signed quickly, then pointed to the Hacklet at the center of their conjoined arm. Aaron looked at the display and was surprised to see text scrolling across the void-filled screen.
We must go. We should not be here.
“Where are we going to go, huh?” Aaron asked in a hushed voice, pointing where the door used to be.
Swift looked back and was dumbfounded to see no trace of the door they had entered.
Aaron shook their arm, bringing the orc’s attention back to him. Quietly, he pressed Swift, “Why shouldn’t we be here? What is this place, and what’s going on?”
These are not orcs, not real orcs. We are among Sticks. Do not disturb them.
“Sticks?” Aaron felt thoroughly confused but kept his voice low. “Sticks? What the slag are you talking about?”
They are not real. Do not disturb them. We need to get out now.
Looking back over the crowded room, Aaron still could not comprehend what Swift was saying. He did not see sticks, only a crowded room of indigenous orcs. None of the orcs seemed to be aware that they were present, and due to Swift’s extreme paranoia, Aaron felt that was likely a good thing. “Whatever. How do we get out?”
There’s a door on the other side of the room. Follow me.
All the orcs were taller than Aaron, making it difficult for him to see anything on the other side of the room. Accepting no better option was present, the dwarf motioned for Swift to lead the way.
Nodding, Swift went to his toes for a quick glance at their exit, then began to move forward. It was like moving through a narrow maze walled by green-skinned flesh. Despite the orcs being packed into the room so tightly, there was a path the duo could maneuver through that prevented any disruption of the stick-orcs. Moving around the narrow turns with a conjoined arm increased their task's difficulty, but it felt like progress was being made.
Swift paused when their path split, attempted to look over the heads of the other orcs, and took a moment to contemplate their next move. As the tethered orc stood in contemplation, Aaron looked at the large, muscular green bodies that walled their path. There was a considerable difference in bulk when the dwarf looked at the skinny orc he was tethered to—as if Swift had been born as an extra-small runt. Looking between the solemn, silent orcs, Aaron was confident he could see an orc lying in the center of the room, dressed in a white linen gown. He mulled over the idea that this could be some sort of funeral—but whose funeral was it?
A tug on their shared arm let Aaron know they were again moving forward. They took the path to their left, moving further from the center of the room and closer to a wall. Just a little more careful maneuvering around some oddly placed orcs, the wall was nearly within reach. Then, Swift stopped.
Aaron gave a light push for Swift to keep moving, but the skinny orc shook his head. Swift leaned slightly to the side so Aaron could see what was to their front. The dwarf saw a large, quietly praying orc, head bowed, facing the center of the room and effectively ending their path. Swift signed quickly with one hand; Aaron glanced down at the Hacklet.
We need to go back. Can’t get around.
Aaron quietly grunted his dislike for turning around but made no argument against the action. He turned about to go back the way they had come and faced a large, hulking orc standing on the path they had just traveled. This orc was also silent, reverent, and facing the center of the room. Aaron looked hard at Swift, pointing at the obvious blockade to their retreat and wordlessly asking how they were expected to return.
Panic began to veil Swift’s eyes. The skinny orc whipped his head about, looking for an escape, a hidden path, a chance to sneak between an orc’s legs, anything that would allow them an opportunity to get out without disturbing the surrounding Sticks. A tug from their conjoined arm, Swift saw Aaron pointing forward.
Looking forward, it was revealed that a new path had opened. They did not notice an orc stepping away from its walled position, but that’s exactly what appeared to have happened. Swift nodded acknowledgment and pushed forward.
This new path was more winding and twisted, at times forcing them to bend their bodies in awkward positions to ensure their conjoined arm did not disturb the crowd. Aaron noticed the new path also brought them further from any walls and closer to the center. As they moved onward, edging closer to the room’s center, Swift’s movements steadily became more agitated, spastic.
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Then, they both saw a large, painted orc step forward and block their path. Their blockade stepped forward so casually that Aaron was sure it did not see them. Yet the move was so intentional.
Swift tried to sign with his shaky hand, but his anxiety prevented him from being able to form any words for the Hacklet to translate. Another orc stepped forward, but this one opened a path leading directly to the room’s center.
Aaron could not tell where that orc disappeared to, but he knew this was their only option. The dwarf pushed forward; Swift pushed back.
Swift was vehement—he refused to continue on the path set for them.
No. No. No. No.
Aaron scowled as he spoke in a harsh but hushed tone. “Where do you propose we go? There’s nowhere else to go! The only option left is to barrel through this crowd, which I don’t think is a good idea right now.”
Swift continued his refusal to move along the set path and tried to push past Aaron; the dwarf pushed back harder.
The skinny orc stumbled slightly, but Aaron did not let up and pushed again. The dwarf continued to push Swift along the path until he stumbled into the opening at the center of the room.
The gently chanted prayers Aaron had tuned out were loudest at the center of the room. The rhythmic shaking, drum beating, and smokey haze of burning incense almost had a hypnotic effect. But the dwarf shook off that feeling and investigated the situation.
Swift stood transfixed, staring down at the orc lying supine in the center of the room. The orc at the center was female, dressed in a clean, freshly pressed, white linen gown. Her eyes were closed, and peace settled easily across her face. Her hands clasped something small at the center of her torso; it was too small for Aaron to determine what it was. Small ceramic bowls containing embers of burning herbs and incense surrounded her, further creating the impression that this was a funeral—yet something still did not match. The dwarf turned to Swift for an answer regarding the missing piece of this puzzle. “What is this?”
A tug of the conjoined arm brought Swift out of his thoughts and back to their present state. He asked Aaron to repeat his question and answered after hearing the question again.
It is a type of healing ceremony. It’s special. It’s for my tribe’s shaman. My Ina.
Aaron perked up with the last word that had appeared on the Hacklet. “Wait, you talked about your Ina before… eh, I need a reminder.”
My Ina is my first chosen mother. She loved me, and I loved her. She died while I was away. I believe this is what it was like when she died.
“How did she die?”
Yul’aya wayázansú
Aaron stared at the words on the Hacklet, silently moving his lips as he struggled to figure out what he was reading. “Is this really a thing, or did the Hacklet glitch out?”
You do not have a word for this disease. It is an illness only experienced by those not connected to the system.
“Wait, your mother did not have a connection to the system?”
When a shaman is born, they undergo many trials. One of the first trials, when they are still a baby, is a cleansing ritual that separates them from the system, ensuring they have an unpolluted connection to the earth around us.
“Swift,” Aaron pulled the orc closer. “Do you understand what you are saying?”
Swift’s face clearly said the dwarf was not understood.
“The Red Mages. The Esoteric Wars. Swift, the Red Mages destroyed the islands and slaughtered Tommy’s people, people who I can call family, all in search of a way to become separated from the system.”
Swift’s eyes moved about in rapid thought, then locked onto Aaron’s gaze as realization set in.
“Yeah,” Aaron confirmed. “The Esoteric Wars might have been declared over, but the Red Mages are still out there—and they are still looking for a means to separate from the system.”
But… how? How could they not know about us and what we do? This isn’t some grand secret. Oh, no. Is my tribe in danger?
The horrors of the red storm began to swirl around in Aaron’s mind, but he pushed that memory back as best he could and focused on their current task. “I don’t know, Swift. But I do know that, right now, we need to get out of this place.”
Swift nodded firmly in agreement. Then the orc turned to Ina, his first mother, and with a tear in his eye, he signed his farewell.
Ina’s eyes suddenly opened with a soul-piercing gaze. Swift froze, unable to look away. His first mother blinked, then smiled kindly as she spoke, “My child. I knew you would return.”
The skinny orc tethered to Aaron frowned pitifully and shook his head. Tears welled in his eyes as Swift signed his response. The dwarf glanced at the Hacklet for an interpretation.
No. No. This is not real. Please, stop this. You died while I was away. I did not come back.
Ina sighed. “I know this is hard for you. But we do not have much time. Please, listen.”
Swift stood, tight-lipped and rigid, struggling to keep the tears from falling.
Ina raised her hand and extended it to Swift. “Take this, my child.”
Hesitantly, Swift reached out and took the small object from his first mother’s hand. Aaron rose to his toes to see Swift holding a small stone totem carved as a round bird with a long neck. It wasn’t dwarven craftsmanship, quite rudimentary so far as Aaron could see, but he didn’t expect orcs to know how to work the stone. Still, the effect this crude totem had on Swift could not be ignored. The orc was openly crying now, unable to keep the tears at bay.
“I give this to you,” Ina said. “It is yours to do as you will.”
Swift clutched the totem tightly to his chest and shook his head repeatedly.
“Release yourself from this curse that holds, my child.” Ina suddenly jerked in pain. Her voice became thin, strangled, and gasping through waves of agony. “Go quickly, my child! My time here has ended. Be true to your name. Run!”
Swift and Aaron watched in horror as Ina twisted, convulsed, and contorted through the painful wracks of the illness that caught hold of her. She let out a quiet, ragged scream and then went limp. Her head lolled to the side; her once bright eyes were now glazed by death.
The room was silent. Swift let out a terrible moan of loss and abandonment. Still clutching the small bird totem, he collapsed to the floor and cried in agony.
Aaron looked and stood awkwardly tethered to Swift, crying on the ground. The dwarf began to extend his free hand to the orc but had second thoughts and retracted his hand. He looked about the room, frustrated and unsure about what to do with the orc on the floor. He looked to Ina’s lifeless body and then to the other orcs in the room.
All the stick-orcs in the room were looking at him.
“Oh, fukalite.” Aaron grabbed Swift and shook the orc hard. “We gotta go. Now!”
Swift continued to cry, holding the totem and shaking his head, unresponsive to the dwarf’s words.
“Look, blasted!” Aaron slapped Swift across the face and raised him up with their shared arm. “You see them? They see us. We need to go!”
Swift blinked, stunned by Aaron’s strike. He looked around the room and saw the stick orcs all silently staring at him. The orc quickly regained his footing and stood as his eyes darted across the room for an exit.
Ina twitched and jerked. They were not the movements of something living. Her body twisted and bubbled, causing her abdomen to swell and expand.
What the fuck is happening?
Aaron only glanced at the Hacklet, confirming what he thought Swift had just said. The dwarf looked to their rear and saw a narrow parting in the crowd—a chance to escape.
Swift continued to watch his first mother, unable to look away from the horror. A giant, red, pulsating mass of flesh and blood vessels erupted from Ina’s belly. It continued to grow and expand, consuming the entirety of Ina’s body, but it did not stop with her. Fleshy tendrils shot out from the mass in different directions, snatching up the stick orcs and consuming them. The mass grew larger and larger with each orc it consumed. As it grew, a long, dark shadow was cast over Swift and Aaron.
“Run!” Aaron yelled at Swift.
Swift did not need further prompting. The skinny orc took the lead and bolted past Aaron, dragging the dwarf by their conjoined arm. They did not worry about disturbing the stick orcs now. They barreled past shoulders and arms and nearly tripped over one’s foot.
A red, pulsating tendril of flesh whipped past Aaron and Swift, knocking down several of the silent orcs. The stick orcs did not resist the tendril. They lay silently, being consumed by the mass but never taking their eyes off the running orc and dwarf.
Another tendril whipped across the other side of the duo. The tendril had been so close Aaron felt the wind rush past his ear. However, with those stick orcs out of the way, Swift and Aaron could see a door up ahead. That was their exit.
They pressed forward, pushing harder, running faster, sprinting to the door. The room was nearly dark. Aaron glanced back to see that only two small bowls of embers remained burning, while the mass had grown almost the same size as the room. A tendril knocked over one of the bowls—only one bowl of embers left.
A tendril shot out from the mass, aimed straight for Aaron’s head.
Swift barreled into the door and leaped forward into the darkness beyond.
Aaron lurched onward, being pulled by the fast orc through the door, as the tendril slammed into the doorframe by Aaron’s head.
They rolled and tumbled in the darkness before finally laying still, panting from lack of breath.
“What in the depths was that thing?” Aaron asked through gasps of breath.
The dwarf could not see what Swift was signing, but the Hacklet lit up with words.
Yul’aya wayázansú, but much worse. Like a nightmare.
“No kidding.”
Both took a moment longer before rising from the ground. Everywhere around them was black, thick, and impenetrable. Everywhere, except the door that was suddenly before them.
“Where do you think this door goes?”
Aaron was pretty sure Swift shrugged his response.
“As long as it doesn’t lead us back to that yulaya-whatever-its-called.” The dwarf turned the knob and entered the door.
Aaron froze in his advance. They were in a room, a room that he knew very well. It was a room in a house that belonged to—
“Ah, my boy! It’s so good to have you back.”
“Papa?” Aaron asked.
He did not know how he got here, but the realization hit him harder than a tonne of stone. Aaron was back home.