He just wished that he wasn’t.

  Arthur had previously emptied the contents of his Personal Space back in the final wave of the dungeon to fit Laird in there. He didn’t think that he was essentially hoarding junk like Cressida and Joy had joked, but he did have a lot of items he hadn’t touched since he originally stored them.

  The only things that he kept were small, light, and important. The purple apples, as well as a host of other herbs and magical components he had managed to scrape together, along with a few choice weapons and tools, including some empty leather satchels in case he found more. Oh, and the chicks and turkey poults. A few books, of course. An extra set of clothing including a thick coat, a few emergency meals and some skins of water, his basic first-aid, a length of rope, and his spare bedroll. And a few other—minor!—items here and there. That was all.

  So, his Personal Space was about as empty as it could be. Even so, he was able to fit almost two hundred cards in there.

  Unlike storing Laird and Shadow, the problem wasn’t size. It was the magical weight of each card. Eventually, Arthur started to feel like he had eaten an overly large meal. The feeling of discomfort—of being overly full—only grew more acute as he added card after card. Eventually, he could only add the Commons, and then it became too much to do even that.

  “I’m done,” he said, bending down to rest his weight on his knees and panting.

  “My turn,” Brixaby said. He started to shove a card into his Personal Space, but then stopped, wincing, and then looked at the card—an Uncommon—as if it had betrayed him.

  “Full?” Arthur asked.

  “It appears so. I access my Personal Space through your card, but it seems like there is a limit.”

  Arthur let out a breath. “I was hoping it wouldn’t be like that. We both have our own Personal Spaces . . .”

  “Yes, but your magical weight is a different thing entirely,” Laird said. “If I shoved fifty cards into this rune net, it would unravel as if I had shoved in a ton of brickwork and then tried to fly around with it. Or more than one Rare pair,” he added, looking at Joy. “You are both heavy.”

  Joy ignored that. “So how did you steal that noble’s library?” she asked, cocking her head. “I’m pretty sure that’s what you guys did right before you kidnapped us, remember?”

  “Those were specialized nets.” Laird flicked his tongue out in distaste. “And obviously well-guarded by the rest of the council. I couldn’t very well take off with one of those nets without raising suspicion.”

  Arthur frowned at the shelves still full of cards. He hated to leave so many behind, but he couldn’t think of another solution.

  “Okay, Cressida, if you have any room in your card anchor, grab a card or two, otherwise . . . I think we’re done here.” He looked around and didn’t see any objections. It was time to go. If people noticed their absence, it would raise the suspicions of the council.

  Arthur had no idea how much time had passed on the outside. A search might have been launched for them already.

  Well, at least I get to try out my new stealth skills, he thought dryly. Getting back to the hive without raising suspicion will be fun.

  But if they managed it . . . he was looking forward to experimenting with his new cards. For the first time, he had some solid ways to defend himself. While he still wasn’t entirely combat focused, it made for a nice change.

  And he couldn’t wait to see the looks on Cressida and Joy’s faces when he surprised them with the other cards he and Brix had picked out.

  As Shadow had said, the back wall was not real. Joy easily tore through it with her claws to expose another few feet of space beyond, and a brightly lit exit.

  While it seemed there was a restriction on more than one person coming in, nobody had bothered to create one upon leaving.

  Without thinking, Arthur strode forward through the exit first.

  He fully expected to be half blinded by bright desert light. Instead, he was greeted by darkness and a star-filled sky. It was still night. Could it be that all the fighting had only taken a few hours? Or had time passed differently inside the dungeon?

  But he couldn’t dwell on it for long. He wasn’t alone.

  Several large dragons stood sentinel around the dungeon entrance. Arthur didn’t recognize any of them.

  Part Four

  Dragon (Rider)

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Arthur’s first worry was that these were dragons from the Mesa Free Hive’s council. Maybe they had some sort of enforcement group that didn’t include Laird.

  Except . . . there weren’t any insignia visible. Some of the crafter dragons wore elaborate collars to show off their skills with their craft. Woodworkers had intricate pieces made of wood, for example. Metalsmiths and jewelry makers had much the same.

  These dragons didn’t have a thing that set them apart from the rest of the hive’s population.

  In addition, they looked down at Arthur with expressions completely devoid of anger, worry, or even triumph that they had caught their prey. There was practically nothing in their eyes. It was as if they had all come to meet Arthur on a random lovely night out on the shores of the lake.

  The largest of the four was a female yellow nearly as large as Horatio’s dragon, Sams. However, she carried many more wrinkles about her eyes and nostrils, indicating she was older. She was the first to speak.

  “So, you are the dungeon survivor.”

  The survivor. They knew he’d come from the dungeon.

  Arthur didn’t bother to answer her. Instead, he stepped to the side of the dungeon’s entrance.

  A moment later, Brixaby erupted into the air. He took a split second to look around at his surroundings. Then up at the dragons.

  Immediately, he flared his top two wings menacingly while the bottom two continued to buzz to keep him aloft.

  “And who do you think you are?” he demanded. “Don’t bother trying to raid the dungeon after us. We have just cleaned it out. Ha!”

  Well, there went Arthur’s half-baked idea to pretend he didn’t know what they could possibly mean by “dungeon.”

  Again, the yellow spoke. Though her expression remained oddly blank, her voice dripped with menace. “You ask who we are? I will tell you. We are the—”

  Another bright flash of light from behind Arthur. Joy appeared.

  “Oh, it’s still nighttime!” she exclaimed before looking up at the other dragons. “Hello! Who are you?”

  “We are—”

  Another flash and Cressida was there. She took a startled breath upon seeing the four dragons. Immediately, her political mind went to work. “I suppose you’re from the council? No.” She corrected herself with a shake of her head, “You aren’t wearing the proper insignia. What is this about? Who are you?” She glanced at Arthur for an explanation, and he shrugged.

  The yellow dragon spoke. “We are the—”

  Another two flashes, one followed quickly by the other. Laird and Shadow had arrived.

  Now we outnumber them, Arthur thought smugly. Assuming I ever find out who they actually are.

  “Who, by the card who spawned you, are you?” Laird barked, going instantly into aggressive mode. He was smaller than the yellow dragon, but when he flared his wings in anger, he cut quite the figure.

  Arthur couldn’t help himself. “They’ve been trying to tell us.”

  Despite the many interruptions, the yellow dragon didn’t seem perturbed. No exasperation or annoyance crossed her features. The same with the others. It was as if they were completely accepting of the circumstances and only vaguely interested in whatever happened next.

  And there was something else. One of the dragons, the smallest, kept catching Arthur’s attention. By his size, he was perhaps only six months old and vividly scarlet red. Even his claws were colored like blood. Outwardly, he looked just as passive as the others. But there was something else that Arthur couldn’t put his finger on. Something was wrong with the dragon. Whatever it was put Arthur on edge.

  He caught Brixaby glancing repeatedly at the dragon, too, with his muzzle wrinkled in distaste. It looked like he wanted to snarl or sneeze, but couldn’t decide on which.

  The yellow dragon waited an extra moment, as if to make sure no one else was about to pop out of the dungeon before speaking. “We are the—”

  “Oh, I do know you!” Joy cried. “You’re the scouts I saw flying overhead earlier. I’m sorry to say you didn’t do a very good job. You missed us completely when we were over by the mesa.” Joy looked like she wanted to pat the other dragon’s paw in sympathy. “I’m sorry. Maybe you’ll do better next time.”

  “Joy, let them talk,” Cressida said.

  The yellow dragon, who still had not shown a hint of impatience, was finally able to complete a full sentence. “We are the chosen emissaries sent to deliver a message to Arthur Rowantree.”

  “Emissaries?” Immediately, Arthur’s mind flashed to Wolf Moon Hive. Had he been discovered at last? He dismissed that worry a moment later. These dragons didn’t look familiar to him at all, and Wolf Moon was a smaller hive.

  “Yes,” the yellow said, finally showing some emotion: a curled lip over a fang. “We have been sent to express Our Lady’s displeasure to Arthur the Liar.”

  The second dragon, a blue, added, “Arthur the Deceiver.”

  The third, a brown, intoned, “Arthur the Betrayer.”

  Arthur glanced at the scarlet dragon, but she remained silent.

  “So you’re from the Mind Singer,” Arthur said flatly. He reached for bravado that was easy to fake, considering he had just come from multiple life-and-death battles. Was this night ever going to end?

  Or maybe it wasn’t false bravado but a sense of relief. The Mind Singer was the best one to find them from a lot of bad choices.

  If Wolf Moon had discovered he and Brixaby were at Mesa Free Hive, the king would be told at the very least. He might choose to move against the entire hive. Considering the unstable man was partnered with a Mythic, that was the last thing Arthur wanted.

  Assassins paid by his uncle’s side of the family were an equally unappealing choice. Arthur didn’t give a damn about Lional Rowantree, but his feelings around his cousin, Penn, were complex. It didn’t help that Penn had a combat card within the same set as Arthur’s own. Those future implications weren’t something he felt comfortable thinking about, much less sharing with Brixaby, who hated Penn with a passion.

  One cousin would have to kill the other.

  So yes, being confronted by the Mind Singer’s minions was the lesser of those evils. Also, Arthur had a growing list of enemies. He should do something about that.

  “Have you come to try to assassinate me?” Arthur added. He figured the answer was yes, but it was worth asking. “Again?”

  “No,” the yellow said. “We have come to raze everything you love and hold dear to the ground. Then we will bring you pain as you have never known before, until you give up your cards, including the ones you just stole from the dungeon—yes, Our Lady knows of that, as she knows of all things—to make the pain cease. Only then will we grant you your wish and put you to death like the animal you are—”

  With an outraged roar, Brixaby flew in front of Arthur. “You have come too late. We have plundered the dungeon of all its treasures. Now we are stronger than you could possibly imagine. Move aside, Uncommons, and perhaps I will let you live.”

  Arthur knew Brix was tired down to his core, but one would never know based on his attitude.

  Half grinning, Arthur opened his mouth to snark something like “You’d better listen to him,” but something Brixaby had said caught his attention.

  Uncommon.

  Yes, the four dragons were Uncommons, weren’t they?

  But the scarlet didn’t feel like one.

  That sense of oddness pinged in Arthur’s mind, and he finally realized what had been bugging him about the dragon. She felt magically heavier. Though the outside was Uncommon, the inside was . . . different.

  Mind Singer, what have you done?

  As one, the four dragons rose onto their hind legs, their wings spread wide. It wasn’t the best pose for battle since that move exposed a dragon’s more vulnerable underbelly. But doing it in perfect unison, wingtip to wingtip, made for an impressive sight.

  Joy’s whispered “What are they doing?” was drowned out by the dragon’s speech.

  The yellow was first. “We are no mere Uncommons.”

  The blue piped up next. “Our Lady has granted us purpose.”

  “And she has granted us vision,” added the deep voice of the brown.

  For the first time, the scarlet spoke. Her voice was as young as Arthur thought. “And she has granted us power.”

  It hit Arthur and Brixaby at the same moment. Arthur, because he had come to a terrible realization. Brixaby, likely, because of his danger sense.

  That Uncommon had a higher card in her core.

  Arthur only had time to yell, “Cressida! Shield!”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The scarlet dragon opened her mouth and unleashed a Legendary power.

  What blasted from between her jaws was more of a force than a sound. It seemed to vibrate the seawater, the earth, and the very air around them. Yet notes hung in the air like snippets of a forgotten song. It was beautiful. But mostly, it was terrible.

  Cressida’s bubble shield snapped up.

  Rocks the size of Arthur’s head were thrown in all directions by the force of the blast. Most bounced off the shield. Those that hit the shield dead on stayed in place as if glued. They seemed to vibrate in place. Then they crumbled into gravel before Arthur’s eyes.

  The sound was almost impossible to describe. All-encompassing. A bone-deep pain that struck everywhere at once. Arthur clapped his hands over his ears, but it didn’t make much of a difference. He glanced over at Brixaby just in time to make sure he had made it inside the bubble, too.

  The dark dragon had made it in. He buzzed to land on Joy, who was cowering, nearly flattened on the ground. She vanished into his Personal Space.

  Joy being Joy must have granted him permission without him needing to ask. Or maybe she had just longed to get away.

  Instinctively, Arthur used his Phase In, Phase Out card so that the terrible force went through him.

  And he saw from the transparent quality of Brixaby’s scales that he had done the same.

  He couldn’t extend that protection to Cressida. Her hands were also clapped over her ears, her mouth open in a silent scream.

  Arthur wished that he could throw her into his Personal Space, too. But she was the only one who could keep the mana shield up—which was a thin, imperfect Rare barrier between them and the destruction outside.

  Arthur’s gaze flicked out beyond the boundaries of the bubble.

  Laird had dived behind the shield, curled up as tight and small as the dragon could reasonably get to keep every part of him behind Cressida’s bubble. His head was practically buried in the rocky soil. Arthur had no idea how much protection that would give him, but at least he was doing better than Shadow.

  He had been caught completely out in the open and seemed to be trying to use his teleport powers to get away. Darkness passed over his scales once or twice, right before it was shattered by the sound wave.

  He collapsed in place, blood gushing from his eyes, mouth, and the dimples dragons had on the sides of their head in place of external ears.

  Then his scales started peeling away as if ripped off by the force of a hurricane.

  Arthur looked away.

  Shadow wasn’t the only dragon in trouble.

  The scarlet Uncommon was dying.

  Only a few seconds had passed since the dragon had opened her mouth, but a growing blackness had started mid-chest—where dragons kept their cores—and was rapidly expanding. It looked like how Joy’s poison affected the body. Only this was not just a rot Arthur could see, but one he could also somehow feel. It was as if the power of the card was leaking outward, tearing and destroying the dragon as it did so.

  He’d always been told that a lower-rank dragon taking on a higher-rank card would poison them. He thought it was a slow process, but apparently using the card quickened it.

  Less than ten breaths of space after the dragon first activated the card, the blackness had extended down all her limbs and finally up her throat.

  The force/sound cut off abruptly, and the dragon staggered to the side, her eyes wide and somehow clear and startled.

  Then she fell to the side.

  The three other Mind Singer dragons had not been affected by the blast—no doubt protecting allies was part of the card’s power. The moment the scarlet dragon collapsed, the blue dragon pounced on her body.

  “No!” Arthur saw what was about to happen. “Cressida, drop the shield!”

  Still staggering, breathing heavily as if she had just run a mile, Cressida only stared at him. She looked like she was in shock.

  Arthur turned and used his Phase In, Phase Out to pass through the barrier. He pointed. “Stop that dragon!”

  The blue was above the scarlet’s body, beckoning the core cards out so that he could take them. He’d surely insert the Legendary card in himself, which would be a suicidal act. But one that would likely kill Arthur and the others.

  Cressida’s Rare shield had barely held on. One more blast . . .

  Brixaby had seen what was about to happen, too. He used Arthur’s Phase In, Phase out and buzzed up and around the shield, back toward Laird. Arthur didn’t know what he was planning, but he hoped it was good because he had almost no idea how he was going to stand up to three dragons and survive.

  But almost no idea was better than none at all.

  Dexterity or Luck? he thought, but the choice was obvious. He activated his 20-Point Spree card and threw all twenty points into his Luck.

  Another one of the enemy dragons, a brown, lunged for him first.

  Arthur pulled out a length of rope.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47