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Book 2: Chapter 37: Fists of Steel

"He's coming?" Echo's face paled. "No... no, he wouldn't. Not for this!"

Penn turned to her. "What do you mean?"

Arthur was just glad that Penn seemed out of the loop for once, and it wasn't just him.

Marion didn't answer. His eyes were still unfocused -- still nearly an hour into the future. Hopefully, he was seeing some better ones.

Echo looked around. "It... it's not that bad. He wouldn't come for this little city. It's not lost!"

"Lost?" Arthur repeated. He and Penn exchanged a look and a mutual shrug. Neither one knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Yes, lost," Echo snapped. She backed a step away from Marion and rang her hands anxiously. She looked far more upset now than she had during battle. "It's the king's duty -- his onus and responsibility to raze the land when it's fallen to the scourge. To keep it from spreading and taking over the kingdom like a living rot." Her words were stilted like she was repeating something learned in a lesson.

That ice in Arthur's stomach extended into his veins. Again, he and Penn exchanged a look. Penn didn't look as surprised -- he'd clearly heard of this before -- but he did seem confused.

"This land hasn't been overrun. We're sitting in the middle of a field." He turned to Arthur. "Can you see the city walls? They haven't been breached, have they?"

"I would have mentioned it." Arthur could see walls in distant flashes between the trees. They looked whole.

Marion gasped like a man surfacing from the air. His eyes were wild, white around the edges, but focused on them. "The king's coming," he said hoarsely, "but only if the white dragons fail..."

The white dragons. Then they were dealing with mind mages.

Several separate puzzle pieces clicked in Arthur's head. He reached out and caught Marion as the prince's knees began to buckle under him.

With a thought, he stored him in his Personal Space.

Then, mentally, Arthur followed.

He wasn't exactly sure what he would find -- would he be able to talk to Marion? After all, Arthur had practiced his skills without a problem.

Time seemed to be a wishy-washy concept inside his Personal Space.

Marion was there, utterly frozen in the same half-crumpled position he'd been moments ago in the outside. He didn't move. He didn't blink. He only existed.

It was eerie and Arthur edged to the side to be out of his line of sight.

Then he reached for what he'd been meaning to grab -- several metal cooking pans and spoons.

Incidentally, he received notifications of a Spoon Skill from Marion's card. What a shame he didn't have time to discover what that meant.

He returned less than an eye blink later to Echo and Penn's verbal shock at seeing Marion disappear in front of their eyes.

"He's in my storage," Arthur reminded them. "And if you don't want to hide out there, too, I suggest you take these." He shoved the pots and spoons at them.

Echo took a set out of reflex, but Penn didn't move. "Have you lost your mind--"

"A few days before the Legendary egg was announced, Wolf Moon Hive had a scourge infection break out." Arthur spoke quickly, half his attention to the sky. If he was right -- and he feared he was -- they were on borrowed time. "The local scholar's guild let some of the Rare cards go rotten. Scourgelings grew like mold, but when they broke out they weren't using knowledge or even meta powers. It was a massacre, but the few people who were left alive said something had used Mind Singing powers on them."

"What does that mean?" Echo demanded.

"How do you know this?" Penn asked.

Arthur decided to answer Echo. "The scholar's guild was studying mind cards. I don't know why or how they could have let one rot. It doesn't matter--" Though he suspected it very much did. Just not at this moment. "The point is the hive weren't able to kill the scourgelings. They got away. But... what if they didn't?"

"Kane..." Penn looked at him like he very much hoped Arthur had a screw loose.

Arthur plowed on. "We all agree we were sent out here on false pretenses. An idea that we needed to prove ourselves forced into our heads. Then there were the illusions that we only broke out of due to luck."

"You're not saying one of our number is actually a scourgeling," Penn said.

"No, the hive leaders would have sniffed that out. The scholar's cards were only Rares." At least, he hoped. If they were Legendries, they were doomed. "I think it's more likely someone's working with implanted commands. Or the scourgelings came through the rips in the sky. The dragons have fled." He pointed up. "Even this eruption has gone dormant. They're laying quiet. And now the King might be coming to raze the whole area." He fixed Penn with a look. "You tell me why."

Penn's jaw tightened and he looked like he very much wanted to argue but couldn't find the words.

"What do we do?" Echo asked, quietly. Somewhere in Arthur's monologue she had reverted back to her usual form. Now she held the pot and spoon in limp arms and looked very tiny and very scared.

Arthur took a breath. "The way I see it, we have two options. The people who survived the attack in the scholar's guild... well, it's silly but they banged pots and pans together. Made so much racket that they couldn't hear the Mind Singer."

"That actually worked?" Penn still sounded skeptical, but not like Arthur was crazy.

He shrugged. "Or they got lucky, or they didn't have the cards the Mind Singer wanted... they were cooks and serving staff."

Penn looked like he wanted to ask Arthur how he knew so much.

Echo said, "What's your other idea?" while looking at the pot and spoon doubtfully.

Arthur took a breath. This was a risk and a test of bravery on both sides.

"I'll store you in my personal space, and I'll make my way out. I have some resistance to mental attacks--" at least, empathic ones "but if things go wrong, I have a trap card that's set to return me back to the hive."

Penn's eyebrows went up. "How come you haven't used it already? Things have gotten pretty dire."

Arthur stared at him: Wasn't it obvious?

"Because that's as good as giving up. I'm here for that dragon egg and I won't show I'm worthy of it by running away."

"Why can't we all go away now?" Echo asked, sounding every year of her age.

"Because the Trap card only works for one person. You'd have to be in my Personal Space and... well... I might be wrong." He shrugged and resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck. "This is all a guess, and I hope I'm wrong, because if I'm right..."

"What if you are wrong?" Penn asked, "Or this is a plot to disappear us in your storage space?"

Arthur couldn't blame him for his paranoia. He held out his hands. "If you don't believe me, you have the pot and spoon."

"Yeah." Penn jutted out his chin aggressively. "So we make enough noise to attract every damn scourgeling within a mile! Marion's camouflage spell isn't going to last long now that he's stored--"

Echo screamed. Both Arthur and Penn turned to see her pointing up.

There was a new rip in the sky followed in short order by another and another.

White dragons poured out: The type never seen in the hive as they were marked as too dangerous.

Arthur was right about one thing. And if Marion's visions were correct... the king would follow.

He turned to the others. "It’s your choice. If you have a better idea, I'm listening."

"I... I don't know," Echo said weakly.

By now Penn's jaw was clenched so tightly he looked like he was ready to break a molar.

"What happens to us if we're in your personal space, and you're killed?"

"I don't know," Arthur admitted. "I guess that's up to whoever gets my card next."

"You can't fight and putting your Wind Release in your card anchor is a shitty idea," Penn said flatly. Then, to Arthur's flat shock, he reached for his own chest.

Was... was he about to give him a card out of his heart deck? The card? A brother to Arthur's own?

Instead, Penn pulled out a fine leather bag from a pocket tucked under his shirt. It had a card anchor mark. From that, he pulled out a card.

"I expect this back, Kane."

Arthur took it.

Steel Fists

Combat

Rare

The wielder of this card will have unbreakable skin and bone from the tips of their fingers to elbow joints. Any strikes using a closed fist will deliver injury compatible with twice the wielder’s base strength.