//------------------------------// // Breath of Stone 2: Healers of Vulcan's Basin // Story: Odyssey of a Thief // by Carapace //------------------------------// By the time The Skylark made it to harbor and docked in the port town, Vulcan Basin, in the middle of Steaming Bay—which, incidentally, did tell Twilight that she was going to be in for a full day of the heat-related name schemes—Hadkhûna’s state took a turn for the worst and jumped straight onto the express train for the capitol city of the nation of Darkest Days. If such a thing as karma were real, Twilight would venture to say it was quite sapient and liked to wait until exactly the wrong moment in one’s life to pin their head against a wall and buck it like an apple tree. Such realizations came during the last leg of their voyage into Steaming Bay. That last segment seemed to crawl along, time slowing like everything in the world chose to work in combination to ensure her lover’s suffering would indeed be prolonged. Her gray-white scales were dry and flaking, her armor, one of her biggest boasts, turned against her and peeling at her very skin. It was all Twilight could do not to reach up and try to stroke some life back into them. They’ll flake right off if you keep touching them, Fluttershy had told her. And if Hadkhûna’s scales flaked off, they’d expose her vulnerable hide laying beneath those ironlike scales.  And her stomach pains grew worse.  It was a small mercy, perhaps, that Hadkhûna hadn’t been able to eat anything in the previous day and a half. The most she could do was lurch and heave, much more manageable than trying to direct her head to one of the few barrels they’d been able to repurpose to hold her sick so it wouldn’t make a mess of the deck. Or, more importantly, eat through the ship itself. Dragon bile wasn’t a joke. Twilight wouldn’t have been surprised if the blasted stuff could eat through solid stone. Even still, her attention was split about ninety-ten—the ninety, of course, went to her poor, suffering lover. The ten went skyward, to where Melodía Kalaigías lounged upon one of the spreaders, laying on her belly and looking down upon them with an analytic gleam in those rosy eyes. Her lips were curved into a tiny frown, Twilight could almost see the wheels turning in her ancient mind to work out what could be wrong with her reptilian rival. By the irritable flicking of her tail and primaries, her conclusion was anything but happy. What could be so wrong with Hadkhûna that it drove one who so happily batted her about and boasted about doing the same to her father would grow quiet and contemplative? They’d only been together a short time, Twilight and Hadkhûna, and Melodía even shorter still. Barely a couple days. But the little mare liked to think she’d learned enough about her lovers in their actions to know when something was off. Something was quite off with Melodía Kalaigías.  That she wouldn’t shout or boast or sweep Twilight into an embrace at the first chance or even sing to amuse herself only served to drive the point home like a sledgehammer. While The Skylark’s crew tethered the ship to the dock, Twilight pressed her nose against Hadkhûna’s cheek, as soft as she could manage without disturbing her scales, and whispered, “I’m going to go see if I can find a place where you can soak, love. I promise I’ll be back.” “Warm …?” Hadkhûna asked, her voice weak. “Melodía says they have hot springs on this island that can cure most ailments. You could rest and soak in one as long as you like. Doesn’t that sound good?” A groan of affirmation was her only reply. Some twenty paces behind her, Twilight noticed the great she dragon’s spaded tail twitch and nearly clothesline an unsuspecting deck hoof had his senior not jerked him out of the way. Skittershy laid a hoof upon Hadkhûna’s shoulder. “Try to keep still,” she murmured soothingly. “You need to save your energy until we’re ready to have you move to one of the springs.” “Water …?” the she dragon pleaded.  “I’ll go into town and get you some. And maybe some of the sailors can help me find something to warm your towels again while Twilight and Melodía go look for the springs.” That was enough to make Hadkhûna’s sapphire eye snap open. “Don’t—” Twilight held up a hoof. “She knows the healers here, love. I need her with me so we can find one who can treat you.” She offered a small smile. “We’re not going to wander off.” A rush of wind made her ears twitch. Melodía landed at her side, that frown marring her features. “Normally, I’d be offended,” she admitted, eying the she dragon with a disdainful sniff. “I could easily have let your suffering continue, whelp. Were it not for your being somewhat rational by comparison to your father or this lovely mare’s affection for you, I might.” Hadkhûna couldn’t move. She could do little but give a discontented rumble and bare a glimpse of her swordlike teeth. The storm siren actually snorted, amused. “Some fight in you. Good.” She nodded once and said, “You’ll need that to make it through this ordeal, so save it until our return.” Her eyes flitted to Skittershy, who froze in place. “Listen to Skittershy, if no one else. She has the right idea in all this. Her time spent in those mountains, watching over that village taught her well what the ill require.” Skittershy’s face betrayed both a hint of flattery and, still, fear. Fear at whatever events had transpired between she and the storm siren’s mother long ago. Something to look into. Once Hadkhûna was back on those massive claws and at full strength. Twilight put that aside for the time being and turned to face Melodía, and gave an uneasy smile. With a nod, Melodía beckoned her toward the gangplank and led her down onto the dock and into Vulcan’s Basin. A treacherous little voice in the back of Twilight’s mind whispered doubts and questions of what might have befallen her lover, and whether or not she might find herself the center of another town wide scuffle. Or, heaven forbid, another monster or demigoddess.  Melodía Kalaigías didn’t get any more talkative on their way into town. She paid little mind to the astonished gazes and reverent bowing every pony, gryphon, wyvern, or otherwise in the mixed crowd in Vulcan’s Basin gave in her presence, affording little more than an approving flick of her ear to assure them of her approval.  Given the frown marring her features, that did quite a bit to help them relax. Knowing the storm siren wasn’t about to vent whatever garnered such displeasure upon their town was probably akin to learning that a wild storm coming in from sea was going to break up before it made landfall. Then again, Melodía was probably the source of those wild storms, too. Despite her longer legs, Twilight had to trot briskly to keep up with the smaller storm siren, her tail lashing nervously. “So,” she began conversationally, “where exactly are these healers you know?” Melodía flicked an ear. “Through town, bit into the forest closer to the slopes of Mount Ignis. The family’s used the hot springs to help with their healing prowess for generations.” “Mount Ignis,” Twilight repeated slowly. “Isn’t, er, that the volcano that erupted with enough power to shatter its own top and destroy four islands?” “Five,” the storm siren corrected. “Or was it six? It’s been fifteen hundred years or so, I can never remember. Anyway, relax. Ignis is dormant, most it can do is warm the springs and island a bit. Eruption that powerful doesn’t just come along, you know.” “I mean … you’re not going to tell me there’s a volcano god? Or goddess?” “Well, yeah. My uncle, Vulcan. Total hothead, naturally, gets pissy at the drop of a hat. But he’s not come back here since that last eruption. Grandpa had a temple on one of the islands back in the day and he was not happy.” Immortal family spats over an eruption caused by a temper tantrum? Why the hay not? Twilight shouldered her way past a gryphon swathed in bandages, her brow arching. He wasn’t the only one sporting such affects. In fact, a good third of the crowd sported some sort of injury or malady. Bandages, crutches, and canes were the fashion of the day. And was that an actual, functioning wheelchair? It was!  Imaging that. Wheelchairs, even here. Perhaps some enterprising pony toting the designs made it out and managed to sell a few before some nameless creature cracked their skull open for brunch. Such a pleasant thought. Still, Twilight found her thoughts wandering back to the sickly she dragon awaiting them on the ship. Namely, on how the sailors and townsfolk shrieked when she flew overhead before their departure. “We’re not going to start a panic if we lead Hadkhûna through, are we?” she asked, a note of concern filling her voice. “I don’t think I can have her fly in that condition.” “She couldn’t if she wanted to,” Melodía scoffed. “And it’ll be fine, little one. Worry not. You see the wyverns, no? This place is a haven to all, even your changeling—” “Could you seriously not? Like, really seriously?” A roguish grin flitted across the storm siren’s features. “Were we not in such dire straights, I might demand a kiss for each time the notion comes to mind. But for now, I’ll comply.” Her frown returned. “In any case, none are turned away in Vulcan’s Basin. The healers we seek, likewise, will see your lover and treat her. They’re the ponies who lead this town, if only by example due to their distaste for title.” Now there was a surprise.  Somepony who shunned titles. Rare on both continents. Twilight’s curiosity piqued, she followed Melodía in silence the rest of the way. Through the streets of the old island port and shops and houses with their thatched roofs and wooden doors, they trotted along the well-worn dirt path until they saw the edges of an old forest thick with verdant foliage and mighty cyprus oak and cedar.  The path itself leading onward, into the darkness ahead. Melodía nudged Twilight forward with a brush of her shoulder to the side. “They’re a good ways into the forest,” she said. “They and the best springs. Can’t bother with the lesser ones in town.” Whether lesser meant small or of less healing prowess, it mattered little, Twilight supposed. In this place, she knew utterly nothing. The fact that she’d stood in a crowd and not seen a glint of steel or claws ready to tear out her throat was enough of a novelty. Certainly enough to grant her a sense of ease to continue onward, deep into the strange forest which lay ahead. The storm siren led her to a large clearing at the foot of Mount Ignis, where a few stone buildings with thatched roofs and paned windows awaited. Behind them, a series of dividers constructed out of wood and rock separated a dozen or so steaming pools like a great bathhouse of sorts. The hot springs bubbled and gurgled, tickling her ears and matting her coat with the humidity choking the air. Melodía strode up to one of the buildings and called out, “Healers of Vulcan’s Basin! It is I, Melodía Kalaigías, come with one favored and bearing tidings of a sick being! Will you come forward to give aid?” Silence reigned for a long moment. Twilight swiveled her ears this way and that, waiting and wondering if these healers Melodía claimed to know would take kindly to being called upon in such a fashion. Then, the latch clicked and the door opened inward. A mare of pale green coat and chestnut mane held back by a white headband stepped out into the sunlight. She paused a moment to look her visitors up and down, her eyes widening with each passing second. “Great-grandmother wasn’t telling tales,” she breathed.  Melodía smiled. “It’s been some time since I’ve come to call. The last healer I knew was Jasmine, and her young daughter—” “Clementine,” the mare supplied. “My mother.” She snapped out of her stupor and bent at the knee, bowing her head. “Forgive me, Lady Melodía. I’ve heard of you from my family, but I couldn’t dare to dream I might look upon you myself.” The storm siren chuckled and beckoned her with a wave of her hoof. “Rise. I have long favored your family, mare. Such unfamiliarity at first glance is not foreign to me.” The healer rose as asked, a little flick of her tail betraying her nerves. “Cedar Spruce, Lady Melodía. And thank you for your understanding.” Her eyes flitted to Twilight, one could almost see the wheels in her head beginning to turn as she ran through a quick checklist of what might be wrong.  Twilight held up a hoof. “Er, I’m not the patient,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Feeling fine here. It’s my, er …”  “Her lover is ill,” Melodía supplied, her lips twitching in amusement. “Her other lover, I mean. A rather nasty case of seasickness, even for a dragon. I worry that it might have progressed further.” Cedar Spruce raised her brows and gave an understanding hum. “You’re worried that she’s developed Churning Belly or Flame Gout?” “Aye.” “Wait, what or what?” Twilight blanched. “Deadly diseases among dragonkind,” Cedar replied gravely. “Both affect the digestive system in similar ways. Of the pair …” She wrinkled her snout and cast her eyes skyward in thought. “Of the pair, I would say the latter is the worst as it would mean that the glands in your lover’s abdomen containing the ignition fluid may have ruptured and gotten into her stomach.” “Ignition fluid? I thought old dragons like she just had fire in their bellies.” The healer chuckled and shook her head. “A common misconception. Nothing, not even a dragon, could keep flames that hot in their belly and hope to survive. They certainly do ignite it within their chest when they breath it, but they secrete a flammable substance much like snake or changeling venom, or the latter secreting slime, for that matter.” If she noticed Twilight wincing at the mention of changelings, Cedar paid it no mind. “If you’ll bring her to me, I should be able to fit her in one of the springs and examine her. About how big is she?” Here, Twilight could just sense the wicked grin splitting Melodía’s features. “Let’s just say you’re about to get an introduction to the great serpents of old,” the storm siren purred. Again, it is imperative to emphasize that Hadkhûna maintained that dragons of her stature and class most certainly did not whine or warble or pout like little hatchlings. The very idea was utterly insulting and were her stomach not trying to rend itself apart, she just might incinerate whomever insinuated such terrible slander. Or, in a certain little thief’s case, demand affection as repayment. There were some allowances to who would suffer her wrath. Were her wrath a threat at this point. Naturally, Twilight was happy to keep her own observations of such to herself while she focused on the arduous task of moving several tons of sick she dragon girlfriend off The Skylark’s deck, through the crowded streets of Vulcan’s Basin, and deep into the forest. Skittershy’s soft, firm coaxing did well to help keep her moving, no matter how Hadkhûna complained of the stabbing pains in her belly. “Just a bit farther still,” the spider mare called. She patted Hadkhûna’s mighty claws with a hoof and smiled. “You’ll be able to soak and rest soon.” The great she dragon gave a deep, rumbling groan the likes of which made Twilight’s very bones vibrate. “Can’t I just lay down here?” she groused, stomping a massive claw hard enough to make a fallen tree jump. “Just bring a bucket and dump it on me. Several times.” “There isn’t a bucket big enough and you know that.” Skittershy fixed her with a stern look, the sort all mothers knew. She scuttled up Hadkhûna’s leg, even as the she dragon walked, and perched upon her shoulder so she could lean in and whisper something only she could hear.  Curious, Twilight dared to drift a little closer, mindful of those stomping claws, and craned an ear. Just enough so she could make out the tail end of a comment that ended with “... whining like this? Like a hatchling?” Whatever she said, Skittershy’s point was well made. A glint of determination shone in those ancient sapphire eyes. Though her muscles lacked their normal strength, the great she dragon, the Conqueror of Erebark lurched forward, her strides lengthened and jaws clenched. “Going to soak in those bloody springs for the next two days after this,” she rumbled. “See if I don’t!” Twilight smiled despite her worries. “You can soak as long as you like, honey. If it’ll make you feel better, a couple days rest is fine with me.” She glanced over her shoulder at Captain Headwind and his crew, offering an apologetic grin. The pegasi returned it with weak smiles that became pointedly enthusiastic when they noticed Hadkhûna herself glancing back to check. Anything that didn’t cause them trouble with her, it seemed, was fair game. Not to mention, they were probably rather tired of being cooped up on a ship with her. A couple days resting in Vulcan’s Basin was like a holiday right about now. At least somepony’s enjoying themselves, then. When they arrived on Cedar Spruce’s proverbial doorstep, the mare had assembled whatever small team of apprentice healers and family members she had living in residence or in some of those stone buildings ringing the springs. Mares and stallions young and old gathered, dressed in white healer smocks and lined up before the main house to gawk at the newcomer. And gawk they did. Clearly, when Cedar relayed to them that Melodía had come asking that they treat the last of the great serpents, they thought it some sort of joke the storm siren played. By the way she fell over, howling and kicking her legs in mirth, Twilight was willing to wager their disbelief was the punchline. Or perhaps it was their faces. Those, admittedly, were hysterical. Twilight could’ve sworn one aged mare’s chin nearly touched the dirt. To her credit, Cedar didn’t so much gawk as she did raise her brows. There was a rather distinct difference in reading about the great serpents and actually seeing one up close. That much, Twilight could appreciate. Nevertheless, the healer called them all to attention with a single stomp of her hoof upon the ground. She offered a polite smile to Hadkhûna and the accompanying group and said, “Lady dragon, your lovers have told me that you’ve taken ill lately.” If there was one thing Twilight could savor about that misinterpretation, it was the way Hadkhûna gave a rather pained grimace and Melodía choked on her laughter. Skittershy, on the other hoof, hastily covered her mouth with both hooves and hide her mirth behind her veil of a mane. A wise choice.  Twilight, herself, had to turn away when Hadkhûna caught her trying in vain to hide a fit of giggles. Instead, she masked it with a sudden cough and said, “Thank you for agreeing to treat her, Cedar.” “Of course.” The mare gave a magnanimous smile, then turned to two young mares. “Starlight, Trixie,” she called. At the far end of the line, a pair of unicorn mares ceased their gawking and muted chattering and jolted to attention. “Yes, Miss Cedar?” they replied in kind. For a moment, Cedar wrinkled her snout. Under her breath, she grumbled something to the effect of “complete lack of professionalism, honestly,” and then she called, “Kindly escort the lady dragon to spring twelve. She’ll need the largest of our amenities.” Their faces lost their color. The mare with dusty blue coat regained her wits first. “O-Of course, Miss Cedar,” she said. “Right away. Lady dragon, if you and yours will just follow us this way—come on, Starlight!” Starlight, jolted and shook herself, her eyes cloudy and out of focus for but a moment longer, lingering upon Twilight as her mind returned from its wandering. She stammered out a quick apology to Trixie and Cedar before affixing a rather toothy, wooden grin upon her features and throwing open one of the gates leading back to the springs. As Hadkhûna lumbered forth, Twilight noticed Cedar drifting closer to Melodía and cocked an ear.  “You didn’t tell me I would be treating the Harbinger of Destruction, Lady Melodía,” she deadpanned. The storm siren, at least, had the grace to look the slightest bit sheepish beneath the mortal’s gaze.   Dragons, even the great serpents, as Twilight soon learned, had a great deal in common with cats.  Well, not really. The only way one could construe a cat as “wicked” was in the midst of their temper, and there weren’t any cats she knew of who could fly, rip a full grown cow in half with one claw, or incinerate iron with its fire breath. Again. None that she knew of. Who could say for certain, these days? The point, however, was not that cats and dragons could be considered wicked in the same respect. Rather, it was that Hadkhûna, the last of the great serpents, the Harbinger of Destruction, Queen Under the Mountain, and about fifty-odd other titles Twilight couldn’t think of at present time, purred like a kitten when she stepped into the bubbling, steaming pool and allowed her massive body to sink into its depths. “Dear heavens,” she crooned, loosing a delighted breath of steam through her nose. “I lied. Three days. Perhaps four, would be best.” Twilight shared a patient smile with Skittershy. “I think we should wait until Cedar has a chance to get a look at you before we decide how long or short we’ll be staying here, honey,” she replied. Hadkhûna turned on her side and blew a sharp breath, spraying her with a shower of spring water. “I have decided. Once my strength returns, I’ll reach out of this pool and snatch you both into it, and we won’t emerge for four days.” Another breath, with an air of finality despite the weakness in her voice. “So there.” So there, indeed. The mares, Trixie and Starlight, busied themselves floating baskets of herbs and wildflowers aloft in their magic. They approached, each offering a slight bow of the head to Twilight and Skittershy. A glint of nerves shone in Starlight’s eyes, her soft violet ear twitched. “Er, Cedar Spruce sent us to begin a bit of aromatherapy treatment to see if scents might help alleviate the lady dragon’s stomach problems.” She shuffled about in place, her purple and minty blue tail flicking anxiously. “If, er, you don’t mind, miss.” Before Twilight could reply, Trixie rolled her eyes and said, “Starlight, please. Show some gumption or ponies will walk all over you!” The mare shot an indignant look her way and said, “I’m showing plenty! And for the record—” she stopped just short, her eyes flitting between Trixie and Twilight a moment, then Hadkhuna. She raised her brows. Comprehension dawned upon her companion in short order. “Ah, really?” Trixie flicked an ear, then turned to Twilight. “Trixie implores you forgive her, miss. She did not realize you were destined for—” “Trixie!” Starlight hissed. Her teeth clicked shut. “Forgive Trixie again,” she said smoothly.  Twilight imagined she must have looked like somepony had just hit her in the face with a piece of rotten fruit. What in heaven’s name were they on about? Destined for what? She shook herself and brought up a hoof to massage her temples, she could already feel the onset of a headache. “Sure,” she said with the air of somepony who’d just about had their fill of the oddities in her life. “Go right ahead. It’s destined or whatever.”