All The Skills

"What's going on?" a voice asked from in the dark pit below. The arm retracted, and a face flashed into view. About Arthur's age, female, with accusing, suspicious eyes.

She asked, "What's happening?"

Arthur didn't answer. He levered himself up to the top to look out. There were several clouds of building dust in the medium distance, and from the middle of one, he saw a flash of a multicolored beak with a cruel curve at the end. Also, for some reason, dagger-like teeth.

The Rare-ranked scourgeling was about four times the size of Brixaby, and there were a dozen of them. Too many to take on.

"Brixaby," he said, knowing he was about to ask a lot from his dragon. "I'll need a few minutes. Can you hold them off us? Distract them?"

Brixaby snorted. "These are mere Rare scourgelings," he said, derisively. "I am a Legendary dragon. What do you think?"

Yes, he was a Legendary dragon, but one with only a few combat cards.

Though, even as he spoke, Brixaby activated one of those cards that he had not had the opportunity to use before. This was his nightmare card.

Night-Mare Fire

Illusion

Upon activation, an illusion of flames will grow outward from the length of the spine. While the illusionary night-mare effect is active, any sentient being the wielder touches will experience a vision of their deepest terror. This card uses mana.

Realizing what he was doing, Arthur averted his eyes from his dragon. He’d done it just in time as he caught a glimpse of the purple-black fire racing up and down his spine — just where Arthur usually sat, which was one of the reasons why this card wasn’t often used.

That brief glimpse was enough for Arthur to see a horrible vision of figures he knew — his father, Cressida, and Horatio — burning alive in that fire.

Even though he knew for certain it was an illusion, animal fear iced down his spine. He flinched as he instinctively wanted to dive at Brixaby and save his father. The more rational part – and absolute knowledge that fire was an illusion – kept him still with his eyes averted.

Brixaby bellowed out a roar that was half a stunning shout aimed at the still-emerging scourgelings. Then he barreled forward to meet them.

Trusting him to buy them time, Arthur dropped back down to the mouth of the pit.

"The scourgelings have arrived," he said, tersely. "I'm a dragon rider, and my dragon can hold them off for a couple of minutes, but we need to get you out of here."

Instantly, questions flooded up at him. "What? They're still here?”

“You don’t look like a dragon rider?”

“That's why we were hidden. What happened?"

Then, the youngest voice asked, "Where are my mommy and daddy?"

Arthur winced and decided the best play was not to answer any of them. "I'm opening the mouth of this up so we can get you out. Move aside." Arthur counted to three and brought his shovel down again and again, feet leveraging him to the side of the hole so he didn't fall in. That was a lucky thing because now the vault had been breached, and its integrity was gone. It broke open easily.

Arthur reached into his Personal Space, grabbed a wooden ladder he held there just in case, and dropped it in.

Then he swiftly climbed down.

The vault below was just as dark as he had imagined, utterly pitch black except for the spear of light created by the single opening. The air was stuffy and smelled of fear and sweat, and he could only dimly make out figures in the dark.

"I can get you out of here," he said.

Immediately, babel rose up from all sides. Each voice was heightened with stress — stress that only increased as Brixaby roared outside again.

Arthur knew how they felt, but he didn't have time for this.

"I can get you out of here," he repeated, raising his voice. "But I need your permission to place you in my extra storage space."

"What does that mean?" One of the figures stepped forward. She was the same girl he had seen earlier: tall and gangly, with a thinness like she had done a lot of growing recently with not a lot of food. And her suspicious gaze swept over Arthur in a way that suggested she thought he was some sort of con artist. "What do you mean, 'store us'? Who are you?"

"My name is Arthur, and I am a dragon rider working with the city of New Houston," he said quickly. "But my dragon is not big enough to carry all of you. I can put you in a storage space. It won't hurt." He glanced up at the top of the hole meaningfully. "We need to hurry."

The girl sucked in a breath and looked very much like she wanted to say no, but the bellows from outside, as well as the distant stomping they could all hear through the earth, convinced her otherwise.

"Then save the youngest ones first. What do you need to do?"

"I just need your permission," Arthur turned to one of the smaller figures, which had resolved into a boy on the verge of teenagehood. "Do I have it?"

"Yes," the boy said, his voice cracking either with puberty or stress.

"Then grab my hand."

Arthur held out his hand, palm up. The moment the boy's fingers brushed his own, he disappeared as Arthur stored him in his Personal Space.

Alarmed cries rang out.

"He's alright," Arthur said.

"How do we know that?" the suspicious girl demanded.

Arthur's temper broke. "It’s either this, or you take your chance with the scourgelings. My dragon is fighting for you to give me time to do this. If you want to take your chances by yourself, let me know right now, so I can go up and help him."

The girl stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed. Then she nodded once. "I'm not dying in this hole." She raised her voice. "Alright, everybody, get in line. This is how we get out of here."

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One by one, the children and teenagers lined up. When they touched Arthur's hand, they disappeared.

A tiny girl, who seemed to be incredibly shy, sucked her fingers anxiously and needed to be talked into it by the suspicious girl.

Arthur bit back his frustration, but after a few moments, she extended a wet hand and he stored her.

Finally, the last was the suspicious girl.

She looked at Arthur hard. "If you're betraying us, then I will find a way to kill you." She placed her hand into Arthur's, and she vanished with the rest to become a line item in his inventory.

Arthur's gaze swept around the vault once, but aside from a few supplies — water jugs and such, there was nothing left. He used the ladder to climb up, storing it behind him.

And just in time.

There weren't nearly a dozen Rare scourgelings: there had to be hundreds of them.

So many that Brixaby had taken to the air and was harassing them from above.

The only reason none had bothered with Arthur and the kids was that Brixaby was doing his best to keep their attention. Along with the night-mare fire, he darted in and out, dropping heavy metal on them from above, and shouting with his stunning shout, which bowled over a few of them at a time. But as they were Rare beasts, they were made of sterner stuff. They didn’t stay stunned for long.

In addition, most of them had to have cards and could fight back. As Arthur watched, horrified, one scourgeling opened a beak filled with razor-sharp teeth.

Lightning shot out straight up, but only Brixaby's quick maneuvers kept him out of the way.

No, Arthur thought, this is impossible. Where had all these scourgelings come from?

There had only been a dozen or so dust clouds a few minutes ago. If the scourgelings were smart enough to set a trap for them, why hadn't they overrun Arthur and Brixaby from the very beginning? Their numbers had been overwhelming.

Even as his mind grappled in shock, he had his answer a few moments later. Brixaby flipped end over tail to change directions and fly in the opposite direction. As he did, he must have pulled a heavy metal spike from his Personal Space. He dropped it on a tight cluster of scourgelings.

And the metal spike fell through them with a thump. The scourgelings dissipated.

They're illusions, Arthur realized.

They didn't have massive numbers on their side. At least one scourgeling was copying and re-copying illusions – very realistic Rare strength illusions. That meant they were obscuring which ones were real and which weren't.

Well, Arthur had an answer to that. Hoisting the rest of the way out of the hole, he stood up, activated his Nice Shot Card, and peppered the cluster of scourgelings in front of him with metal shards.

All had their backs turned to him, watching the sky. They made for an easy target and the vast majority dissipated as the illusion was broken.

From a crowd of seemingly twenty scourgelings in front of him, only three were left.

Arthur felt himself grin savagely as he ran straight toward the remaining scourgelings.

The scourgelings must have just realized that something was amiss. The shrapnel had barely penetrated their thick, Rare-ranked hides, and must have seemed to be an annoyance compared to the danger of the dragon above.

They had just started to turn when Arthur came upon them.

He phased through the first one, grabbing up his ladder. Phasing out the other side, he left the ladder behind. The scourgeling was instantly impaled and thrashed around, shocked and already dying.

This was a neat trick that he didn't mind repeating as many times as it took.

Turning to the next and with a shovel in hand from his Personal Space, he phased through the next one—or at least, tried to.

The next scourgeling was like hitting a brick wall.

Arthur bounced back and caught a flash of savage satisfaction in its eyes. The scourgeling turned to slash at him with sharp, razor-tipped wing claws. Somehow, Arthur managed to duck out of the way just in time.

He never even saw the third scourgeling. As he ducked from the second and twisted, there was a flash of the smell of rotting meat and feathered claws.

Fire ripped through his chest, from his left shoulder, crossing down to his bottom right rib.

Instantly, he phased again. This had not been from the scourgeling that had managed to harden itself against him. The savage toe claw went all the way through him and out the other side. But he’d still been hit, and hit badly.

Brixaby staggered in the air as if he had been struck himself.

Arthur sat down, hard. It hadn’t been voluntary. He wanted to move, but every motion was agony.

His Phase-in, phase-out card had only seconds counting down.

Worse, the scourgeling that had somehow solidified itself against him rushed at Arthur with open mouth and claws.

Just before it reached Arthur, Brixaby dropped straight down on its back and yanked the card right out of it. The scourgeling fell.

Brixaby bellowed, his red eyes glinted like wet blood in the sunset.

Other scourgelings had turned toward him. More illusions bloomed around them, making it feel as though Arthur was in a crowded room full of them.

But his eyes had locked on the one that had hit him – the one he knew for certain was real. He only had a few seconds of his Phase-in, Phase-out card left.

He could take it out.

At that moment, Arthur’s Pain Resistance kicked in, and the lack of agony was a second shock. He was filled with new energy.

Springing to his feet, Arthur ran straight at the scourgeling which had backed up and tried to lose itself in the mass of illusions. But Arthur had never let his gaze leave it, and he only had seconds to act.

No more time for games. He had less than five seconds left of his Phase-in, Phase-out card.

Arthur reaching it, Arthur dropped his phasing card. And for the first time, he accessed Brixaby's ability, Call of the Void.

His fingers brushed the chest, and he felt the card and a handful of disparate shards hovering around it. Arthur's hand closed, and he yanked back, taking the card with it.

The scourgeling shrieked its last breath as it fell, bonelessly, to the ground. All the illusions shattered with it. Which was good, because Arthur's legs collapsed without him realizing it was about to happen.

Glancing down, he saw his entire shirt was soaked with red blood. It was as if he had spilled wine over himself. Oh, I'm dying, he thought. This was a wound far too grievous for his minor healing card. And he realized that if not for his toughened skin attribute, the claw would have gone all the way to his heart.

I could almost thank cousin Penn for that, he thought hysterically.

Brixaby landed next to him. He was unusually round, swollen up like a child's pig bladder ball about to burst. Standing over Arthur, he roared, swinging his head around to the oncoming scourgelings. It stunned the closest ones, but the others that were incoming had only been knocked back.

Now the entire ground had been cleared of the illusions, but there were still ten left. One had opened up its mouth again, and the lightning shot went wide as it had been knocked back.

But that had bought them a few seconds of time.

Brixaby growled but then turned to Arthur, nudging him with his muzzle. "Arthur, I must put you in my Personal Space."

Arthur nodded, but didn't give his full permission yet. The world was starting to grow dark around the edges, as if a cloud had passed over the sun. He suspected it was his eyes. Through force of will, he made himself concentrate. “I took this card. Here.” His mind was still fuzzy, and he tried to give Brixaby the Rare card he had pulled out. It must be some kind of illusion card; it would be valuable. For some reason, his eyes couldn't focus long enough to read the details, though.

To his shock, Brixaby knocked his hand away. "Arthur, give me your permission."

"I'll be fine," Arthur said. “You… you have to hide the evidence, hide the bodies… It's too good of a card to give to the administration."

“Yes, yes, I’ll hide the bodies. Trust me to take care of it.”

His dragon nudged him again, and Arthur, closing his eyes, gave permission.

Time did not move in personal space. Between one blink and another, he was out of the deadened lands, and in the next, he was in a room.

And Brixaby was roaring, "Hurry up! Hurry up! Fix him!"

Arthur swung his head around, trying to get his bearings. He caught an impression of a white room, a glimpse of an outside window which showed a sky that was orange with sunset.

"Hurry up! What are you doing? He's dying!"

"I'm not," Arthur wanted to say, but it felt like he couldn't get a full breath into his lungs. The darkness on the edge of his vision was still encroaching.

He tried to sit up — not to be a difficult patient but because he felt like he couldn't breathe, and instinctively, he just wanted to get fresh air.

Hands pushed him back down, and a familiar voice said, "Oh no, you don't. Lay right there."

Arthur blinked up at a spectacled face. "Hey," he said, "I know you."

"No, you don't," Prince Marion said. "Healer," he called over his shoulder, "please hurry, he's almost bled out and delirious."

"Move aside," said a brisk voice.

A green light washed over Arthur and finally, he knew no more.

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