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Book 3: Chapter : 25 - Accident or Design?

Brixaby was likely the equivalent of a teenager and was testing his boundaries. At least, that was what Arthur told himself after an hour of fruitless searching for the dragon before he finally gave up and went back to their shared cave. One way or another, Brixaby would show up there.

And indeed he was, fluttering around the room in loops — likely working on his stamina flying.

Arthur opened his mouth to ask where he had been all day, but then stopped when he realized that Brixaby was not the only one in the cave.

Cressida sat on the edge of her small one-person cot — they had two in this room, as a replacement for the single bed. Her normally neat red hair had fly-aways erupting from her bun. One side of her face was markedly redder than the other as if she’d been out in the sun too long. But he’d known Cressida long enough to know she took care against that with creams, blaming her complexion.

"What happened? You look like you were chewed up and spit out." It was only after Arthur had spoken that he realized that hadn’t been the most tactful thing to say.

She barely turned his way. "I’m fine," she said in a way that meant she wasn’t.

"You smell like burned hair," Brixaby commented, still flying his loops.

Arthur debated for a moment, but anybody with eyes could see that Cressida wasn’t "fine" and he wasn’t going to take the coward's way out. So, watching her reaction to make sure he wasn’t overstepping his boundaries, he came over and sat next to her. "Hard day at work?"

She snarled something under her breath that he didn’t quite catch. Then she sighed, shoulders slumping, and straightened. "There was an accident with one of the boilers."

"Oh?"

"Some of the hot water that we heat to steam corroded through the tank walls. They’re supposed to be reinforced by somebody with a metal card. But I guess they were asleep on the job," she added, frustrated.

Cold fear slipped down his spine, and he forgot that he didn’t want to push. His voice grew sharp. "Cressida, what happened?"

She shrugged again as if it didn’t matter, but this close, Arthur saw a fine tremor of fear shake her body.

"One second I was directing Whicker —" the name of her flame bear summon "— to heat the bottom of the tank as usual. Then, there was a bang. Wicker reacted quicker than I did. He jumped in front of me and boiled away a jet of scalding water to steam. I hadn’t even seen it coming, but he gave me an extra second to put my mana shield up. That saved me from the worst of the heat. But… I guess I wasn’t fast enough to escape all the steam."

She touched the side of her face which was red, and likely tender. Arthur just stared, horrified. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Her smile at him was sardonic. "It was close."

"But… I hadn’t heard about any accident in the hive… Wasn’t there anybody around? Did anybody else…" he tried to fish around for words, torn between indignation and outright fear that he had almost lost her without even knowing about it.

And he wasn’t the only one. Joy wasn’t anywhere to be found. She had undergone a bit of a change recently, but surely she wouldn’t have left Cressida alone so soon after being in danger.

His mind was filled with images of the bubbly dragon ripping off her chainmail sleeve and happily poisoning whoever was responsible for the accident.

No. She couldn’t be doing that… right?

"No, no one else was hurt," Cressida said, briskly. She reached to smooth down some of the many flyaway hairs on top of her head, as if she just realized they were there. "I was alone in the boiler room. I yelled for help, but the whole cave was full of superheated steam, and it took a few minutes for someone with the appropriate card to respond."

"And the tank just… failed?" Arthur asked, anger growing prominent. "Just like that?"

"They said it was an accident. And at the time, I thought so too. But now that I’m here and thinking about it…" she shook her head. Then she looked at Arthur, and he saw the fear in her eyes. "I just don’t know."

Arthur had been the subject of an assassination attempt already, and the Mind Singer had previously threatened his friends, but…

"It seems a little convoluted to be something that was planned," Arthur said, hoping that he wasn’t just saying this to convince himself. "If this… wasn’t an accident," he cut his eyes to Brixaby who was still circling around, likely not paying attention, "then what would be the point? That’s the sort of thing you do to send a message."

"I can think of a message: That no matter what, no matter where we are, we aren’t safe from her," Cressida visibly shook herself, then blinked and tried a smile for Arthur. "But… you’re likely right. I’m just shaken."

"I don’t like you working there," Arthur said.

"I don’t like working there either," she replied briskly, with a noble's quick diction. "But, there aren’t very many ways for me to keep useful. I don’t have any crafts, and this hive doesn’t fight scourgelings."

"You could not work," Brixaby said, as he passed over them. Arthur hadn’t been sure whether he was listening or not. He seemed completely unconcerned. "Arthur and I make more than enough to feed you. And I’m certain that Joy would be sad if you were boiled alive."

"We would all be sad if she was boiled alive," Arthur said.

Despite the grim conversation, Cressida smiled. "Well, I assure you that there won’t be any boiling anytime soon. That particular tank needs to be repaired and triple-checked. And the others have fire-card wielders working at them.” She sighed. “Now I don’t have anything to do with my days."

"You’ll find something," Arthur said.

She was trying to pass off her close call, but Arthur wasn’t sure he could drop it that easily. She almost died today. And he hadn’t even known how close he had come to being without her. Or telling her how he felt about her.

Perhaps he was a coward because, even now, he couldn’t make the words come to his lips. It was as if his throat had closed off. He swallowed thickly, trying to loosen it up again, dig down deep, and find that kernel of courage he knew must be there. But when he reached for it, it was gone.

So, instead, he just placed his hand over hers and said, roughly, "I don’t want you working with the boilers again, even if they fix it."

"It’s good pay."

"I don’t care about the pay,” Arthur said fiercely. “I want you to be safe.”

They looked at each other.

There was an obnoxious buzz of wings overhead. Brixaby landed between them, causing them to separate their hands.

"If we were back at the Wolf Moon Hive, she could simply fight scourgelings like everybody else," Brixaby said.

"Yes, well,” Cressida cleared her throat and looked away. “Tell me how we can go back there, and I will certainly consider it.”

Maybe he should just tell her. Maybe—

A thud came from the balcony of the cave. Everybody turned to see Joy land awkwardly, out of breath and grinning wide enough to show every one of her pointed teeth. And she was absolutely covered in dead animals.

"I brought tonight’s dinner!" she called. "And… Probably enough for dinner the next few weeks worth of meals, too."

"Are any of these poisoned?" Brixaby asked before Arthur or Cressida could find anything to say.

"Nope, I killed them all the hard way. Bunnies have easily snappable necks," she said cheerily, and started unloading her burdens. She had, Arthur realized, twisted together long strands into twine from the tough grass that grew in spiky bunches across the desert. She then looped this rough twine around the limbs of some of her catches and tied those to bunches around herself.

It was rather ingenious, especially since Joy didn’t have a crafting skill to her name.

"Joy, that is quite a lot of animals," Cressida said weakly. Arthur noticed her staring hard at a particularly cute bunny with dark patches against white fur.

At Wolf Moon Hive, it was perfectly possible to order lesser servants to deliver a dragon's food. A rider could be delivered already pre-prepared, butchered meat, along with a side bowl of blood pudding, which was all-important for younger growing hatchlings.

Things were a little more rustic at the free hive.

To Cressida’s credit, she never complained about it, though Arthur had seen her swallow a bit hard when Joy discovered a new love for hunting.

"Yep," Joy agreed. "I killed my first three rabbits, and then I got a quest to kill 25 more. I didn’t think I would have been able to do it, except I found an entire warren and cleaned them out. The reward was this deer and her baby." She happily turned to show off a mother deer and, as she said, a young spotted fawn. Both had glassy eyes and seemed to stare accusingly at Cressida.

"That is… excuse me…" Cressida quickly retreated to the washroom.

Joy blinked in surprise, but Arthur stepped in.

"Brixaby and I can store what you don’t want to eat immediately in our Personal Spaces. That way, the meat will keep fresh."

"You did have a productive afternoon," Brixaby agreed, and Arthur caught him eyeing one of the larger flop-eared rabbits. Then the little dragon swelled up, wings extended. "My day, however, was even more accomplished."

Joy turned to him. "Oh? Are we talking about that thing you didn’t want to talk about?"

"Does this have to do with the fact that your craft master's booth was closed today?" Arthur asked, dryly.

He half expected Brixaby to be chagrined after getting caught out in a lie. Instead, the dragon's scaly lips peeled back from his teeth in a very smug grin. "I found myself a buyer for my wares. And he pays very well."

With that, he flourished four Rare card shards.

Arthur’s eyebrows went up. "Why don’t you start from the beginning?"

As Brixaby relayed his story, Arthur felt his eyebrows climb further up and up.

Cressida joined them toward the end, her cheeks a little red spotted against pale skin. He suspected she had been sick but didn’t want to admit it. She must have heard some of their conversation in the washroom because she added, “And you said that this man's ears were… pointed?”

"Yes, he was very odd, but he was from a different Kingdom without dragons, so that is to be expected," Brixaby said.

"I don’t think those things are related," Arthur said. "It could be some kind of body modification card.”

"Oh, one that gives pointed ears. I think that would look lovely on you, Cressida," Joy said. "I think you have a face made for longer ears."

Coming from anybody else, this would be an insult, but Joy looked like she was completely earnest.

“Body modification card or not,” Brixaby said, louder, as if annoyed people weren’t paying attention to him, “I now have another source of Rare shards. Arthur, if my count is correct we may have enough to complete a card.”

Arthur froze in thought, but Brixaby was right. He quickly pulled out the Rares he had been saving over the last couple of months.

It was amazing. It had taken himself and his friend, Horatio, literally years to collect enough shards between them at Wolf Moon hive to complete a Rare. He and Brixaby had done so in a fraction of that.

Pooling the shards, they started arranging them on the table into a complete card. Shards were… odd. They were slightly different sizes from one another so that even if one had the prerequisite number of shards — and that varied on Uncommons and Rares — it didn’t always mean they would fit together.

And of course, the outcome of what kind of card appeared was random. Supposedly.

In this case, the shards fit together but it became obvious they weren’t going to get a card today.

“Missing a corner piece,” Arthur said, shoulders slumping. Those, naturally, were the hardest to find.

Cressida cleared her throat. Then she walked to a small wooden box where she stored her small valuables — what jewelry she’d come to the hive with, and a few coins — and returned with a Rare corner piece.

“The boiler room is dangerous,” she said, “but it does pay well.”

“Excellent,” Brixaby said. “I knew I chose well in adding you and Joy to my retinue.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur asked. He almost didn’t want to take it out of pride, but Cressida shoved it at him.

“Take it. And make sure it’s a combat card,” Cressida said.

Arthur wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do that. But he wasn’t strong enough to push the piece back at her. Instead, taking a deep breath, he slid the final piece into place.

The shards glowed and then flashed a uniform white before dimming again.

A new Rare card had just been born into the world.

All leaned forward to read.

Brixaby was the first to speak. “Finally,” he said in the greatest of satisfaction, “A combat card.”