After Det dropped his stuff off in the room Simmons led them to—a separate room from Calisco’s, thankfully—and the captain sent the other ReSouled off toward the deck, Det followed Simmons to the medic. There, he stood next to an observation table, with the so-called medic leaning forward and staring at the ink-bandage still covering his shoulder. Across the room, Simmons propped himself against the wall, his arms crossed in front of him. Hanging down across his forehead, that somehow-flawless-curl formed the textbook ring around the man’s right eye.

  Really, is that his magic? Perfect hair?

  “I’ve never seen magic like this,” the medic said. “What kind of healing properties does it provide?”

  “None,” Det said. “It’s a bandage. It stopped me from bleeding out, that’s all.”

  “Being a ReSouled is what probably stopped you from bleeding out,” the medic said. “You said this wound goes all the way through your shoulder?”

  “Yeah,” Det said.

  “How much blood can it soak up?”

  “No idea. I haven’t exactly had a lot of opportunities to test it.”

  “Could you reattach a limb with it?”

  “Still no idea,” Det said flatly.

  “How about…?”

  “Jeckles,” Simmons said, cutting off the man. “Our new ReSouled—Det—has several holes in him. Think you could patch those up and do something about his pain before you put the screws to him?”

  The medic—Jeckles, apparently—turned and gave Simmons a look, before sighing and meeting Det’s eyes. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Sometimes my fascination with new magics gets the better of me. How do we get these bandages off so I can get a look at the injuries?”

  “Which one do you want gone first?” Det said.

  “Let’s start with the arm and shoulder.”

  Reaching up with his right hand, Det touched the ink-bandage covering his left arm from shoulder to elbow. A tiny surge of magic, and the previously firm ink-bandage instantly became liquid, dropping to the floor with a splish before vanishing. Too bad the blood it had soaked up didn’t vanish too, though it hit the metal floor in a messy, congealed, state.

  “Marvelous,” Jeckles said, completely ignoring the chunk of blood near his feet, and stared first to the three gashes across Det’s arm. Pushing his round glasses up his nose, he brought his face to within two inches of Det’s flesh. “Deep. A perfect cut through the skin and muscle. Even scarred the bone. This looks like…”

  Simmons coughed from the far wall. “Sorry, the smell of the poultices in here always bothers my throat.”

  Jeckles gave him another look.

  “Yes, well, as I was saying,” Jeckles said. “These cuts almost look like a sword did them. It was claws you said?”

  “Red, glowing claws,” Det said.

  “Fascinating,” Jeckles said, moving his attention up to the shoulder. “Oooooh. I bet this one hurts.”

  “Quite a bit, actually,” Det said.

  At the statement, Jeckles turned his neck to look up at Det. “Are you sure about that? Does it hurt as much as you think it should?”

  Det opened his mouth to answer, but then stopped short and thought about it. He’d broken his arm once back on Earth, and now that he really considered it, that had hurt a hell of a lot more. For basically getting three knives shoved through his shoulder, it hurt, but did it hurt enough?

  “Ah, he’s putting the pieces together,” Jeckles said without looking at Simmons. “I take it this is your first time really getting injured?”

  “It is,” Det said. “Since I was reborn.”

  Jeckles nodding knowingly. “You’ll find our ReSouled bodies are marvelous things. We’re human, but not. We’re more. Faster, stronger, quicker to learn and heal, and our bodies shunt away stimulus that would hamper us. Mostly.

  “If you were back on Earth and got an injury like this, you’d be on the floor crying for your mama. Probably. Here, the more you get injured, the more your body toughens up and learns to resist what hurt you.”

  “You’re ReSouled too?”

  “Of course,” Jeckles said. “How else did you think I was going to heal you?”

  “The smelly poultices…?” Det offered.

  “Are they really that smelly? I stopped noticing after a while…”

  “Jeckles,” Simmons interrupted. “Holes.”

  “Of course, of course,” Jeckles said. “Det was it? The leg, straight cuts like the arm, or stabs like the shoulder?”

  “Cuts, like the arm,” Det said. “Probably all the way to the bone.”

  “That makes the shoulder the worst of it,” Jeckles said. “Unless there’s something else?”

  “Those are it,” Det said.

  “No problem then,” Jeckles said. “Since this is your first time, I’ll be gentle.”

  “Gentle? Doing what…?” Det started, but didn’t have a chance to finish before Jeckles’ hand snapped up to touch Det’s left shoulder. A sensation like ice through his veins lancing across his shoulder and down his arm had him jerking straight. Before he could even begin to wonder about it, the feeling ballooned through his chest, then straight down to his leg, like it knew exactly where it was going.

  One, two, three seconds that felt like Det had just taken a polar dip, then it was gone just as suddenly as it had come. And, with it went the pain.

  “I’ll leave you with a long-duration heal-over-time as well, just to make sure there are no lingering side-effects from the injuries,” Jeckles said. “We ReSouled are basically immune to infection—though not quite—so it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  “That’s… it?” Det asked, looking at the pristine skin of his left arm. Where before, three perfect slashes had parted his flesh open like a ripe fruit, now, it was like he’d never been hurt. In fact, the only indication something had happened was that the new skin was the only part not covered in dried blood.

  I really need to take a bath… or… maybe they have showers?

  “I am a B-Rank Medic, after all,” Jeckles said, standing up straight and putting his hands on his hips. “With a capital M, by the way.”

  “You say that like it’s a title or something,” Det said. “Is Medic—with a capital M—another class?”

  “Correct,” Simmons said. “Like General Vans is a Bulwark—capital B—and I am Duelist—best class, by the way—Jeckles here is a Medic. Second best class. Don’t worry, all this will be covered—and you’ll be assigned your own class grouping based on your magic—when we arrive at Mount Avalon.”

  “Our class is based on our magic?” Det said. “It’s not something separate?”

  “Yup, based on your magic,” Simmons said, but held up a hand before Det could speak again. “Jeckles, is he good to go?”

  “Yes,” Jeckles said. “Det, healing can take it out of you, even as a ReSouled. You’ll probably find yourself more tired than you have been in a number of years. If not now, soon. After you go take in the sights from the deck, get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

  “Are you a Doctor—capital D—as well as a Medic?” Det asked.

  Jeckles looked at Det for a solid three seconds before looking over at Simmons with a ‘Is this guy serious?’ kind of look.

  “Fine, Medic’s orders,” Jeckles said.

  “I’ll humor his questions for thirty minutes, then I’ll make sure he gets back to his room,” Simmons told Jeckles, with a chuckle. “Det, come on. I’ll take you up to the main deck. Want to make sure your not-really-a-friend isn’t causing too much trouble.”

  “You’re probably already too late,” Det said. “Jeckles—can I call you that? Should I use a rank?—thank you for patching me up.”

  “Just Jeckles is fine,” the man said. “While some of us have ranks,” he looked pointedly at Captain Simmons, “we try not to flaunt them. Especially not while things are quiet like this.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Were you military back on Earth?” Simmons asked Det as he opened the door and stepped into the hall.

  “I was a mechanic,” Det said, giving Jeckles one last nod of thanks, then following the captain out. “Owned a shop with my brother-in-law.”

  “Mechanic, huh? I was a bus driver,” Captain Simmons said. “You do it by choice or by necessity?”

  “By choice,” Det said. “Liked working with my hands. Being part owner of the shop let me set my own hours too.”

  “Ah, that would’ve been nice,” Simmons said. “I worked far too many twelve-hour shifts. When I wasn’t working doubles. Understaffed. Anyway, back to your question, the classes we have aren’t anything more than classifications, really. It’s not like a game where your class gives you special abilities or anything. It just lets us organize groups for training and missions, and lets everybody kind of know what your role is.”

  As Simmons spoke, Det followed him down a narrow hallway made of the same white material as the rest of the ship was. The setup kind of reminded him of navy ships he’d seen in the movies, but since he’d never actually been on one, he couldn’t say if that was really a fair assessment or not. What he could say, though, was the white material definitely didn’t feel like metal.

  Again, ceramic? No, with his fingers tracing along it, it didn’t have the same roughness as ceramic or even pottery did. The grit of it almost felt too symmetrical. And yet… familiar? Where had he touched something like this before…?

  “Can I ask you a couple questions?” Det said as they ducked through a narrow door and into a slightly wider hall. In this one, two people could pass each other without having the squeeze to the side, and there was even a kind of rough carpet on the floor. At the far end, sunlight beamed through an open door. Even that had Det squinting and recoiling.

  “Sure,” Simmons said. “Fair warning, though, there are some things I’ll just leave for the academy to explain in your classes. And, from the look on your face, you want… these!”

  With another flourish—Simmons really seemed to like the dramatic motions—he held out his hand with… yeah… the ugliest pair of sunglasses he’d ever seen.

  “Why… why do they have eyebrows?” Det couldn’t stop the words from coming out his mouth. It was bad enough the goggles were cut to a weird angle, which he was sure would make his eyes look like they were further apart than they were. And point in opposite directions. But, the giant, bushy eyebrows on the top? C’mon! “Is this a hazing thing?”

  “You’re not the first one to ask that,” Simmons said with a barely suppressed laugh. “But, it’s not. The cut of the glass helps diffuse the light—or something—while the eyebrows, as you call them, well, they’re clearly to… uh… to block the… uh sunlight coming from… the suns…?”

  “You have no idea, do you?”

  “None, but anybody coming from below the mist has to wear them. You’ll thank me.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “If it makes you feel better, Calisco will be wearing them too.”

  “It doesn’t really make me feel better, but, fine. Just, let’s get this over with. And you better answer my questions.”

  “Other than what I leave for the academy to, you know, do their job,” Simmons said, spinning the goggles on one finger before extending his arm to Det.

  “Thanks,” Det said, taking the goggles—along with a deep breath—before slipping them over his head. As soon as he had them on, the brightness was better, with the gratuitous eyebrows dangling down like they were there to provide their own shade. To his whole damn face. “I’d ask how I look, but I just… you better answer my questions!”

  “Already told you the rules,” Simmons said, clearly trying to keep himself from laughing.

  “Fair,” Det said with a grumble, then quickly moved on. Anything to take his mind off the sun-goggles. “First, then, you said General Vans is over a hundred years old, but he knew about a video game Calisco and I both played. How does that make any sense?”

  “Oh? Were you a gamer too?” Simmons said. “PC player myself, and before you ask, I’ve been on Elestar for sixty years now. Going into my third cycle as part of the Mistguard now.”

  “You definitely don’t look sixty,” Det said. “Consider that part of my question.”

  “They’ve got great beauty products here,” Simmons said, striding out on to what had to be the main deck of the Sun Chaser.

  As Det followed him out, he let the joke fall away, while his covered eyes took in the huge ship in front of him. In a way, it reminded him of one of the cruise ships he’d been on with Yumi, back before Nat was born. Where he stood now, it was kind of like the pool deck, nestled in between two larger sections of the ship which rose up in the front and back of the ship.

  Instead of a pool, though, there were what looked like two, shielded cannon-turrets on either side of the hundred-foot-wide deck. Between them, in the otherwise empty space was… nothing?

  “You’re wondering why there isn’t anything here, aren’t you?” Simmons asked with a chuckle, watching Det’s head swivel as he looked at the empty space.

  “It is going on my list of questions,” Det said as he spotted Calisco leaning over a railing between the two intimidating turrets on the left.

  “Why don’t we go join her, so I can answer your question about my age. She might as well hear it too,” Simmons said, starting for the woman. “As for this space, the reason it’s empty is… something I have no answer for.”

  “What?” Det couldn’t stop himself from asking, even as he took in the view beyond the edge of the ship. No wonder Calisco is half-hanging over the side to get a better look. With one hand on the top of her head to keep her hat in place, the woman’s toes barely touched the deck as she bent over the railing far beyond what was safe. Then again, considering the view ahead of her, he honestly couldn’t blame her for the enthusiasm.

  Like before, the top layer of the Mistline stretched out below—though they’d clearly climbed even higher into the sky—but that wasn’t what had the other ReSouled’s attention. No, that had to be firmly on their first good look at another pillar.

  Without something for a reference of size, it was impossible to tell just how big it was, but it towered out of the mist, like a straight spike of stone with a flat top. Just barely visible from the distance, that had to be a town on the edge of it, stretching back until it met a heavy forest of a lighter green than what had surrounded Radiant.

  Even more amazing, there were three other pillars beyond the first. None of them were close to each other—there had to be dozens of miles between them, at least?—and they were all different heights. The furthest had its cap just barely above the Mistline, with what looked like most of its rim acting like a dock. Mistships of all shapes and sizes crowded around it, like they were vying for space, while the top of the pillar itself was full of buildings.

  As for the other two pillars, one of them Det couldn’t even see the top of because it stretched further up into the sky than the Sun Chaser flew.

  “The closest one there,” Simmons said, stepping up beside Calisco. “That’s Moonquell. The jungle behind the town is the source of some of the best non-magic healing poultices and herbs you’ll find. A lot of them only grow during certain cycles of the moons, hence the name. That one there,” he pointed to the pillar just barely above the Mistline, “that’s Refit. As you can probably guess just from looking at it, it’s the primary place you can get a mistship repaired.” He looked over as Det joined the pair at the railing. “Mistship mechanic shop. One of the only ones, and probably the best one, if we’re being honest with each other.”

  “They hiring?” Det asked.

  Simmons put his hand to his chest in mock pain. “You haven’t even joined us yet, and you’re already looking for a new job?”

  “Depends what the benefits are. Do they have dental?”

  At the question, Calisco turned her head to look wide-eyed past Simmons at Det. “Did you just make a joke?”

  “I’m very funny,” Det deadpanned.

  “Who are you and what have you done with the real Det?” Calisco mumbled.

  “I…” Det started, when something on Calisco’s face demanded his attention. Or, more accurately, something not on her face.

  “What are you even wearing?” she asked at the same time the shock went through his system like he’d been struck by lightning.

  By then, Captain Simmons was well into bellowing out his laughter, tears literally coming from his eyes—though the damn curl stayed perfectly in place. “Oh, the looks on both your faces. That was… that was priceless.”

  The goggles smacked to the mistship deck as Det threw them, and he turned his attention to the captain to give him a piece of his mind. Only, the glaringly bright light hit him like daggers straight into his eyes.

  “Gah,” he groaned, staggering back a step and bringing his hands to his face. “So bright.”

  “Didn’t they give you the contacts?” Calisco asked, having to half-shout to get her words over the wind of the mistship’s movement. And the captain’s continued laughter.

  “No,” Det said. “I got those abominations.”

  “And you actually wore them,” Simmons said. “I’ve been trying to get somebody to put them on for two cycles, and I had to bribe the general to give you that warning earlier. I mean, I lost the bet that I couldn’t get both of you to wear them, but it was so worth it!”

  “You said it wasn’t a hazing thing!”

  “I lied!”

  “… hate you,” Det cursed.

  “Oh, don’t be like that,” Simmons said. “All in good fun. Here, have a pair of the contacts Calisco was talking about. They’ll help.”

  Crouching down to hide from the sun behind the railing of the mistship—which only kind of helped since the whole thing was made of white whatever-it-was—Det held out a hand. A second later, something got dropped into it, and Det carefully opened his watering eyes to find what, yes, looked a lot like a contact lens container in his palm.

  Having worn more than a few pairs back in his old life, it only took him one try to place a lens in each eye, the relief coming almost immediately. Which let him glare at Captain Simmons.

  “See, all better,” the captain said, looking at Det through the curl of his hair.

  “Somebody is planning their revenge,” Calisco said, the horrific goggles now in her hands as she leaned against—instead of over—the railing.

  “You bet I am,” Det said.

  “Look, to make up for it,” Simmons said. “I’ll answer your questions. Really, mostly, this time. Starting with,” he continued, before Det could complain, “where I left off about the pillars. Ahem.

  “As for the other two pillars,” Simmons said with a suppressed chuckle, just taking it all in stride. “The one in the distance—the middle-height one, we call that in the third stratum—that’s Grassland. You might not be able to tell from here, but it’s one of the bigger pillars, almost a-hundred-and-twenty-miles wide. All grazing land. One guess what it produces?”

  “Smelly things,” Calisco said with a roll of her eyes.

  “Exactly that,” Simmons said. “And bacon.”

  Both new ReSouled snapped their heads to look at Simmons, all hazings and jokes forgotten.

  “This world has bacon?” Calisco said, the words under her breath like she couldn’t believe it could be true.

  “It does,” Simmons said with a knowing smile.

  “Radiant sucks,” Calisco said, slapping the railing with both hands.

  “I’ll make sure you get some for breakfast, to help make up for the goggles. Deal?” Simmons said. “Mount Avalon isn’t close, so we’ll be guests on the Sun Chaser for a few days.”

  Offered the choice between staying angry and getting bacon for the first time in twenty years, it wasn’t even a choice. The anger, Det could let go. He’d take the bacon, with a side-serving of cold revenge at a later date.

  “What about that last pillar?” Det asked, mainly so he didn’t openly drool at the thought of bacon.

  “That’s Nuvin,” Simmons said, only a small frown on his face. “It’s sixth stratum. One of only a few, and they don’t let anybody forget it. Sixth is the highest, by the way, and it means they sit above most clouds. Nuvin produces some of the best wine in the world. And, before you ask how that works without much rain, it’s all about the seasons. Trust me, it just works.”

  “Okay,” Calisco said. “And what about that down there?”

  Det followed the woman’s extended arm and pointed finger to find a thick shard of stone protruding from the mist almost directly below them.

  This time, Simmons didn’t even try to hide his grimace. “A long time ago, seven cycles I think, that was a pillar called Deepvein. They… mined too deep.”

  “And… what?” Det said. “The pillar broke out from under them?”

  “Or it was a Balrog,” Calisco said.

  “Something like that,” Simmons said, though he only grinned at clearly not explaining which something it was like. “You’ll cover it in second-year classes.”

  “Which sounds like a perfect segue back to my questions you haven’t answered yet,” Det pointed out.

  below the Mistline. There were some parts of it that didn't work as well, which led to what you see here.