All the skills 3 a deckb.., p.13
All The Skills 3: A Deckbuilding LitRPG, page 13
Joy took a few more mouthfuls, but one of them seemed to be half blackened with necrosis. She stopped. Her eyes practically crossed, and she spit the meat to the side. “Oh . . . gross!”
“Joy?” Cressida stepped forward. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry . . .” the dragon growled, going in for another few bites, well away from the blackening rot. The problem was, the rot was quickly spreading up the body. With a growl, Joy ripped the sheep’s still-fresh head off its body and crunched it like someone would a hard candy. She swallowed it down. By then, the rest of the corpse was a black, stinking mass.
There was a barrel set to the side for rain catchment. It was old with green algae floating on the top. Joy didn’t seem to care. She dunked her head in and sucked it down greedily. Coming up for air at last, she looked around, noting the shocked silence.
“Why is everybody looking at me?”
“We’re not looking at you,” Brixaby said. “We’re staring at your forelimb.”
“My what?” Joy looked down and saw her mismatched limbs. One bright fluorescent pink and the other mottled pink and tinged with toxic green. She brightened. “Oh wow! I like this! And oh, double wow! I have poison cards in my core, too. Cressida!” She turned to her rider, excited, though there was a dangerous glint in her eyes that certainly had not been there before. “These are great. Can you feel how powerful these are? Three cards! Wow!”
“I didn’t link with those, dearest.” Cressida looked a little worried. “How are you feeling?”
“It kind of hurts down to my claws, but this is much better than being poisoned. Now I’m the poisoner!” she said enthusiastically, sounding much like her old self, though with a new steely edge. “Wait . . . am I poisonous or venomous?”
It was too much for Cressida, who had been clearly holding herself back. She ran forward and threw her arms around her dragon in a hug.
With a feat of shocking speed and maneuverability, Brixaby darted forward and grabbed Joy’s green limb before she could use it to hold her rider. “Don’t prick her with these claws!”
Cressida stepped back, and Joy looked stricken. “I can’t hug anyone ever again? I mean, killing enemies is really fun,” she added, “but . . . what if I really, really wanna hug a friend? Or Cressida? Cressida, can we still sleep in the same bed?”
Now she sounded almost teary. But at that moment, Arthur knew she was going to be okay. She was still Joy. Just . . . with an edge.
“Of course you may still sleep in the same bed,” Brixaby said disdainfully. As he should. He insisted on having his own pillow to curl up on. “I’ll make you a chainmail glove to wear over your claws. Then you simply take it off when you want to kill something.”
Joy visibly brightened.
“Furthermore,” Brixaby said, settling back to the ground but puffing proudly. “I’m pleased with this upgrade to your capabilities.”
“Really?” She looked down at Cressida, who nodded, still teary-eyed.
Joy held up her claws on her green limb in front of her face. “Yay! Oh, I wonder how many scourgelings I can poison with these? Quests are going to be so much more interesting now.” Then she glanced over at the disgusting blob of flesh that had been a sheep a few moments before and growled, “But . . . I could use another sheep. Or three.”
Dangerous or not, Cressida threw her arms around her dragon’s neck. “I’ll get you more. As many as you want!”
“First, she needs to be healed to make sure that limb is as strong as the other one,” the healer said. “We have to replace muscle mass, not to mention reknit several nerves.” If she was affected by the emotion around her, she didn’t show it. “Hold still. This may itch, but do not scratch.” A new wave of healing energy engulfed Joy.
“I want to begin designing that glove,” Brixaby said.
This was Arthur’s chance. “And I need to speak to the council. Let them know Joy’s going to make it and see if they learned anything from the assassin yet.”
Cressida started to nod but then looked concerned. “What if there is more than one assassin?”
“If there is,” Arthur said, “it would be pretty revealing if they struck while I’m going to speak to the council.”
“If one attacks again, I will simply take their cards,” Brixaby added. “I almost hope they do.” With that, Brixaby buzzed off toward the direction of the crafting cave.
Cressida still looked worried.
“I’ll be careful,” Arthur promised her. “I have my own tricks. Stay with Joy.”
Arthur headed out, too, using the door at the back of the small quarters. He wondered if he was going to be stopped from leaving, but there were no guards out there.
Nor had the council insisted he put the card-lock bracelets back on. Just as well. They hadn’t worked for long.
He activated his Stealth skills by concentrating on them one by one. Though he could not see himself, he could tell that he had just blended in with the shadows. Perfect.
If there were more assassins—which he doubted, this felt like a one-man job—they would have a hard time finding him.
He wasn’t going to speak to the council. At least not yet. He intended to find Tamya and Len and see what had driven them from Wolf Moon Hive. And what exactly had been promised to make them stay here.
Chapter Fourteen
Arthur activated every skill within his Stealth Class as he explored the interior of the free hive. That, however, soon proved to be overkill. He let go of all but classic Stealth, Silent Movement, Heightened Awareness, and Concealment.
The combination of skills didn’t exactly make him invisible, just unnoticed—or another bland, unremarkable face in the crowd. People glanced at him and then casually looked away with no change of expression on their faces.
It was liberating. The last few months had been quite the change for Arthur, socially. He had gone from a nobody—a common worker with a few good friends and useful skills to those who knew him—to arguably one of the most important people in the kingdom. So to be another general face in the crowd again . . . Arthur savored it.
Stealthing around was also useful because he had no idea where he was going. For years, he had grown to know the level-based layout of Wolf Moon Hive. The more common folk, the low-ranked, the general crafters, and those who were high-ranked but wanted a taste of a different life often congregated in Wolf Moon’s lowest levels.
The more luxurious amenities were located on the higher levels with the upper-ranked riders and general people of importance.
However, the Mesa Free Hive’s layout just didn’t make any sense to him. For one thing, the mesa seemed to be made of a series of cooled lava bubbles, creating hundreds of caves with no levels stacked on top of one another. For another, they were a complete mishmash of services with no obvious organization.
Arthur passed by caves that glowed with artificial light, where crops were planted in rich deep-black soil with farmers tending to them. Other open-air caves seemed to be filled with pop-up stores where vendors hawked their wares, from fabrics and tools to all manner of odds and ends.
The most tempting caves were the open-air kitchens and food vendors. Arthur wasn’t particularly hungry, but his nose picked up a wealth of spices—some in combinations he hadn’t tried before, and others which seemed entirely new. It was a reminder that he hadn’t truly tried to level anything within his Cooking Class since well before Brix’s hatching. He missed it.
But now was not the time. Also, he wasn’t sure how his new suite of Stealth skills would hold up under strain if he tried to grab a bite to eat. Maybe he would level these skills up a little first.
No signs pointed the way to the riders’ quarters. Indeed, some of the caves he passed seemed to be entrances to barracks. He passed several that were filled with stacks of bed cots, which served as barracks. Some were filled with sleeping people. He guessed those were on a night-work shift.
There were also a few caves that were converted into communal dragon dens. He saw one with several young hatchlings playing some kind of dice game.
That was another thing about the free hive that was different from Wolf Moon: dragons and people lived together more closely. The halls were wide enough for all but the largest dragons to pass by easily. Vendors spoke to men and women as easily as they did dragons—and the dragons spoke freely back, which was not something always seen in the hive. As dragons got older, they tended to forgo speaking to strangers. Arthur wasn’t sure why.
There was also a sense of . . . comfort and safety in the air. He didn’t think the feeling was being imposed on him, like some kind of mental manipulation. It was simply a lack of tension. There weren’t any high-ranked riders or nobles strutting about, snapping orders. Not to say that there weren’t ranks altogether. Arthur passed by people with apprentice badges up to high masters.
But again, that was different from Wolf Moon. Usually, important crafters would be cloistered within their separate guilds and not interacting out in public.
Arthur was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he was being watched until he felt a prickly sensation itching at the back of his neck. Still mentally holding on to the skills, he turned in place and studied the passersby.
When he spotted his watcher, he was taken aback.
A small silver dragon stared directly at him—and it looked so much like Marteen that he almost called out to them. But at second glance, he noted the slightly heavier set of the dragon’s jaw and the more protruded bony eyebrows that indicated the dragon was male.
This wasn’t Marteen. Just another silver mystic whose natural magic specialty likely let him see through Arthur’s skills.
Sure enough, the dragon looked at Arthur intently, then raised two of his claws to point at his own eyes, and then back at Arthur in the universal signal for I’m watching you.
Awkwardly, Arthur waved back.
The dragon made no move, and Arthur felt its gaze as he walked away. The dragon did not stop him. Just watched.
Arthur got the feeling the dragon had been sent by the council. It made sense. Since he wasn’t bound by the card-lock shackles, they’d want him under observation. If that was all they did, he’d consider himself lucky.
No one else seemed to notice him, and as he walked on, he leveled up several of his Stealth Class skills.
Skill level gained: Heightened Awareness (Stealth Class)
Level 14
Skill level gained: Concealment (Stealth Class)
Level 14
Skill level gained: Silent Movement (Stealth Class)
Level 14
He hadn’t advanced his general Stealth skill, but as it was level 19, this took more work. However, leveling those other skills helped level his overall class skill in turn.
His exploratory adventure was fruitful . . . except he saw no sign of Len and Tamya.
After about an hour of wandering up and down caves that made no sense to him, surrounded by people he didn’t recognize and who barely acknowledged him, he found himself tiring. He was thinking seriously of giving up and taking a side trip to the giant crafting cave to see how Brixaby was getting along designing his chainmail glove for Joy—when he finally spotted the particular shade of light blue that belonged to Len.
He and his rider stood in front of a seller’s stall that made basic dragon tack: saddles and straps for the riders.
Wary of them running off, Arthur walked up behind Tamya. Only when he was directly behind her did he drop out of stealth.
Len made a squeak of surprise, which was a ridiculous sound for a dragon his size.
Hearing him, Tamya whipped around. Her tanned face went instantly pale as she saw him.
“Tamya,” Arthur said, “you and I should talk.”
Tamya half lifted her hand automatically as if to salute, caught herself, and lowered it again. Her lips pressed together. “I don’t see what we have to talk about.”
“We won’t go back to Wolf Moon Hive,” Len added, though his voice quavered. This dragon, several times Joy’s size, was terrified of him. He practically shook where he stood.
Did they think he was going to rip the cards from their hearts?
“Why?” Arthur asked. “Were you treated badly there?”
Tamya stared at him. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“No?” Arthur looked from the rider to the dragon and back again. Both had defensive body language, and Len, especially, looked like he was on the verge of taking off and flying away. The fact he’d have to leave Tamya behind likely kept him on the ground.
“Look,” Tamya said, “we have the support of the Mesa Hive, now. And Len and I aren’t going back. You can’t make us.”
Arthur held up his hands in a peaceable gesture. That was a mistake, as the two of them flinched.
“I’m not here to make you do anything,” Arthur said. “I just want to understand what is going on—why a new rider who’s about to graduate and start their career would abandon their home hive.”
Tamya barked out a disbelieving laugh. “The first day of dragon class, Len was still small enough for me to hold in my arms. Instructor Athena gathered all of us low-rankers together and said if we were lucky ,a Rare would hatch and join us soon. And that our primary duty as low-ranked riders was to ensure that Rare survived a scourge-eruption at all costs. It got even worse when you joined. Every day of training, it was drilled into us that Len and I were expected to die for the high-tier cards and be happy about it.”
Arthur frowned. He’d seen a little of what she was talking about, though he wouldn’t have categorized Athena’s speech quite like that. “You’re talking about formation training?”
“Yeah, where we act like scourge fodder to protect you and your pink girlfriend. We’ve been there for months, and not once have we been taught how to protect ourselves. Just to take orders.” Her voice became high-pitched and sarcastic. “‘Yes, sir. No, sir. Sure, we’ll die for you, sir.’”
“I’m not saying that I agree or disagree,” Arthur said, “but we hadn’t finished the class yet. We’d just started practicing to fight in and out of formation. We had a lot more to learn. All of us.”
Len spoke up, sounding shy. “Instructor Athena thought we’d learned enough to fight the scourgelings.”
“Yeah, and our wise leader,” Tamya said, “almost got half our class killed while battling one big scourgeling.”
Arthur winced. “That could have gone better.”
“Better?! You’re not a low-ranker. You don’t know what it’s like for us—we’re disposable trash.” Tamya’s voice rose as she spoke. Apparently, this had been building for a while now, and now that she had an outlet, all her resentment came spilling out. “Here, there’s no difference between a high-ranker and a low-ranker. And I’ve seen Len happy. He’s respected; we both are, for cards that no one took seriously back at Wolf Moon. Why would I go back?”
Arthur didn’t necessarily disagree with her, but he had to at least try to defend himself and the hive. “Look, after training ends, you didn’t have to fight if you didn’t want to. You could have graduated to one of the rescue squads, do some good helping people—”
“The Lobos?!” She looked like she wanted to spit.
“There’s nothing wrong with joining the Lobos—”
“There is when we don’t have cards to defend ourselves!” she all but shrieked.
“Then you earn more cards. Everybody graduates with only the cards that they have. By that time, most dragons have formed their secondary cores. If we had been able to stay through that eruption, we would have all split the harvested shards—”
“Great, and after collecting dozens of those, we might have something good,” she snapped. “Besides, the Lobos don’t get shards. They’re paid in jade chips that they trade for food and basic necessities. Those are given here for free.”
That gave Arthur pause. He vaguely remembered some kind of transaction happening when Tess had originally brought him to the hive. But he had been too shocked by the rescue to pay much attention.
Tamya went on. “Plus, Len isn’t a quick flyer like some of the blues or purples. He’ll grow up large. We’re just going to be scourgeling fodder out there. Better stay here where we could actually do something useful with our lives, other than die for you. This hive has already promised us cards that will match the ones we already have. Len and I won’t have to fight another day of our lives.”
He looked into her hazel eyes and saw only resentment. And though Arthur knew it wouldn’t change a thing, he had to at least try to bridge the gap between them. “You should have been treated with respect from the start. And for what it’s worth, you have my word that when I go back, I want to change things. I want to make things fair for the lower-ranked dragons—”
“Well, you can do it without us.” She looked at her dragon. “Come on, Len.”
And without saying goodbye, she and the blue walked off.
Arthur watched them go, quietly disturbed. Tamya and Len had given no indication that they were so unhappy before. In fact, they’d been so quiet in class that he hadn’t thought of them much at all.
It made him wonder who else felt the same way.
No, that was the wrong way to think about it. Who else had been pushed into feeling that way?
Arthur had his own issues with the training regimen. If he was told from the very start that he and Brixaby were to sacrifice themselves for somebody else, he’d be just as resentful as her.
Well, no, he corrected himself again. No, he wouldn’t be quiet and meekly stew. He’d be doing everything he could to get his hands on combat or strong defensive cards to feed to Brixaby the second he could put them in his new cores.
But he couldn’t necessarily fault Tamya for leaving, either.
And at that moment, Arthur knew that he couldn’t stay here forever. Some way, somehow, he was going to have to find his way back to Wolf Moon. And when he did, things would change.
