All The Skills - A Deckbuilding LitRPG

Book 5 Ch42: In The Thick of Battle (2)

Griff looked reluctant at his order but saluted.

Buzzing upward, Squish roared to get everyone’s attention. When eyes fell his way, Griff circled above his head, then pointed back the way they came: the signal to retreat back to the portal.

There were a lot of relieved expressions. Arthur realized that if they hadn’t had such a successful harvesting expedition yesterday, he might have had more trouble getting people to retreat. But everybody should be well up on card shards, which enabled them to make smarter decisions.

He’d have to remember that in the future. Leading people was tricky business.

Arthur watched the group fly off for a few minutes. Once he was certain no flying scourglings were angling their way, and that they’d have a safe trip back to the portal, he turned his attention back to the eruption.

Everywhere he looked, he saw that things were degrading. Dragons and their riders were fighting, yes, but they were ceding ground. The scourglings were advancing.

“Brix, if a Legendary scourgling shows up . . .” He didn’t finish, but Brixaby understood what he was asking.

“Yes,” Brixaby said grimly.

He and Brixaby would have to step in. They weren’t traditional fighters, but with Counterfeit Siphon, they could copy the powers of those who could fight and use them along with Brixaby’s massive mana pool.

Arthur was just mulling this over when Brixaby spoke again. “However, if we do take on a Scourge God, we will lose everything that we have gained at Blood Moon Hive.”

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but Brixaby was not done. “And any other Legendary pair that comes to assist may turn on us. Certainly, we will become instant enemies of Chester and Whitaker. And,” He sighed reluctantly. “I may be slightly tired from so much flying back and forth. However, I am certain that we could get away—either by finding protection from another hive or portaling out across the world. If this happens, though, our enemies may go after the rest of my retinue.”

Arthur sat for a moment, digesting Brixaby’s words. He could be greedy and single-minded, but he was never stupid.

With a feeling of chagrin, Arthur realized that, for once, he was the one being short-sighted.

Brixaby was right on all points. If they dropped their persona of a Rare pair, all bets were off. The wrong people would quickly remember that he had brought others with him to Blood Moon Hive. If they couldn’t get to Arthur and Brixaby, they would go after his retinue.

Cressida, Horatio, Marion, Soledad, and their dragons would all be in danger. Even Wing Purple would probably be in trouble. Certainly, they’d be put under suspicion and questioned.

Frustrated, Arthur clenched his fists. He could accept the risk of being turned on by the other Legendary pairs and running for his life. Putting everyone else in danger, though? He didn’t know if he could do it.

How far am I willing to go?

He let out a long breath and tried to exhale his anger along with it. “I don’t disagree, but I don’t think that either one of us is capable of ignoring a Scourge God. So if one starts to erupt, and we’re the only ones here, let’s have a plan.”

“What do you mean? What plan is there other than to fight?”

“We’ll use your portal back to Blood Moon Hive and get the hatchlings out first. Maybe the Common purples, too.” He was fairly certain he had won Thackeray’s, Steve’s, and Amanda’s loyalty, especially if he explained that where they were going would not have the blood price. “We’ll take them back to New Houston,” he said, “and then we’ll pull Cressida and Horatio out. We’ll have to make it fast, though, if they’re still with their wing.”

Arthur was warming up to the idea now. “But at that point, all bets are off. We’ll just drop the Knocked Down and Illusion cards. Seeing a Legendary should give us the time we need.”

“Yes,” Brixaby said with relish. “I dare any Rare to try to stop me. Though . . . this will all take time.”

“Only a few minutes, then we’ll come back and fight and either win or get chased off by the Legendaries. Either way, we’ll know that everyone we care about is safe.”

Without warning, Brixaby dived to avoid an oncoming scourge flyer. Arthur absently raised an arm and shot a piece of shrapnel its way. The shrapnel hit, clipping off a wing, and the scourgling fell hundreds of feet to its death.

Casually, Brixaby bobbed back up to his original place.

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“I’m unsure how this eruption could possibly degrade any further.”

“Brixaby, don’t say that—”

But it was too late. The moment his dragon had said those words, the situation abruptly got worse.

Arthur could not feel the shaking, but he heard it—the grind of rock against rock. Dust that had now turned the purple-gray of dead land rose from the ground. Below, the wilting trees all swayed back and forth as if they were caught in a fierce windstorm, but it wasn’t wind at all.

This was a massive earthquake.

The fighting above seemed to still, and Arthur caught horrified faces all around as people realized what the earthquake meant. Perhaps the scourglings understood, too, because they suddenly went mad.

The ones on the ground lost their unified cohesion and ran back and forth, slicing their sharp knife limbs into whatever they saw, occasionally even each other. The scourglings that flew turned and plunged their sharp limbs down toward the nearest dragon.

The riding pairs were completely caught off guard.

Brixaby made a sound that was certainly not a squawk of surprise when several flyers simply dropped down on him. Only the fact that he was extremely maneuverable kept him from getting stabbed.

Arthur moved with him, keeping a grim balance using his Dragon Riding skill.

The moment the flyers passed, they straightened out their path again and came around in an arc that would take them high up. Arthur assumed they would try for another diving pass. He didn’t give them that opportunity and sent out razor shards to knock them from the sky.

A dragon roared nearby, followed by a harsh scream from human lungs.

Arthur whipped his head around and saw that a silver dragon flying not too far away had been hit by several scourglings at once. Unfortunately, the flyers hadn’t simply slashed and then went on their way. They used their blade arms to crawl up the hide of the dragon, literally carving a path as they went.

The rider on its neck seemed to be fighting hand-to-hand with a scourgling that was trying to cut him free from his saddle. Why wasn’t he using a card power?

“Brixaby!” Arthur yelled, and Brixaby shot forward to help him.

At first, Arthur thought he had gotten his wish from earlier—that it was the silver who had sprinkled glittering death on those scourglings below.

But then, as he and Brixaby got closer, he saw it was a different one.

The silver seemed to blur in the air as if he were in two places at once. Or maybe . . . two times at once? One blurred silver moved exactly like the other, only with a three-second delay.

The weird echoing illusion did not do anything to stop or help the fight. Arthur had seen this before: the dragon had activated his card out of pure panic and pain.

As they got closer, Arthur recognized the dragon and realized what was going on: Doshi had never been much of a fighter.

The mystic silver canceled the card, and the two images of him collapsed back into one.

In the chaos, his rider’s straps were cut, and he took a bad hit by a scourgling. The man, Chancy, started to slip off.

Without being told, Brixaby bobbed downward in the air, coming under the flailing dragon’s stomach—and neatly avoiding a kicking hind foot—to arrive on the other side.

It was just in time because Chancy slipped off, half unconscious and bleeding from a head wound.

Brixaby buzzed upward, and Arthur caught him. It was like catching a 180-pound sack of deadweight. Also, there was no room on Brixaby’s back for them both.

It was all that Arthur could do to keep Chancy from hitting Brixaby’s frantically buzzing wings.

Brixaby tilted his neck forward awkwardly to try to give them more room. But as valiantly as he tried to fly, the weight of two people combined was too much. He started to sink in the air.

Frantically, Arthur tried to put him in his Personal Space—but of course he needed Chancy’s permission for that.

“Chancy!” Arthur yelled, shaking the man, but he was dazed and didn’t respond. He couldn’t give his permission.

After a quick glance to make sure that his rider was safe, Doshi finally made a smart move: He rolled midair in a complete twist over and over again.

The move flung the flying scourglings away and damaged at least one of them enough so that it fell to the ground.

At last, he had rid himself of the pests, and even though he was bleeding heavily, turned to Brixaby.

“He’s okay,” Arthur yelled, knowing how protective dragons could get over their riders. “He’s taken a hit to the head.”

“Yes, come get him immediately, he is quite heavy,” Brixaby said through gritted teeth. The buzz of his wings had taken on a frantic note as he tried to maintain his position in air, but he kept sinking.

Doshi didn’t seem to hear them and flipped over a wing to come straight down at Brixaby.

He thinks we’re attacking his rider! Arthur thought, and before he could do anything, yell out again, or maybe even dump Chancy and tell Brixaby to dive, Doshi swept them up in his arms. But it wasn’t an attack. He brought them to his chest in . . . a hug?

“You are very brave for a little purple. Thank you.”

He looked down at Arthur. “Do I know you?”

Only then did Arthur realize that in the struggle to keep Chancy from slipping off, his scarf had slipped to his neck.

Well, Doshi had last seen Arthur when he was twelve years old. There was a chance he could just bluff his way out of this.

“No,” Arthur said, straining to hold on to the man to keep him from tipping one way or another.

Brixaby wiggled in his arms. “Why are you hugging me?”

“Because you saved my rider,” Doshi said, mild and calm, as if he was not bleeding in dozens of places. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Arthur said. “I think he fainted.”

He remembered, through a child’s eyes, how big and strong Chancy had seemed. Well, he was certainly big, but Arthur realized he now stood as tall as the rider.

“Oh no,” Doshi said vaguely. “I am not a good fighter. It’s just that this eruption was so bad we had to help, but . . . I suppose it’s time to evacuate.”

“Yes,” Brixaby said through gritted teeth. “Take your rider and go.”

This was a distinct order from a smaller, younger dragon, but Doshi did not seem bothered by it. One clawed hand came up to gently scoop up his rider. Then he released Brixaby, who buzzed away.

If he had feathers, they would have been puffed up in injured pride.

“I will remember you,” Doshi said with a bob of his head, and he took his rider toward one of the distant portals.

“How can he possibly remember us when he did not even ask our name?” Brixaby demanded.

“He has a time-illusion card,” Arthur said. “He might just look back and check out our faces.”

He was glad that he had hit puberty since then, and it was a lucky thing that Chancy had not been awake. He might have remembered Arthur, despite all the years of growing up he had done.

Doshi was not the only one evacuating. Other dragons were heading toward the portals, even the ones without any visible wounds.

The reason was clear. The top of the crater was starting to split open, and a Legendary-level scourgling was crawling out.