B3 Ch8: A Safe Harbor (Patreon)

**Re-edited Nov '23**

There was a blank moment as everyone processed what had just been said. Then Cressida turned to Chablis with a scowl. 

"What does that mean?"

Chablis smiled back with an edge of condescension. "Come, I will show you."

She gestured ahead towards the lip of the mesa, and as if this was a signal everybody had been waiting for, the crowd began to melt away. Most of the dragons outright flew off. The only ones who stayed were Chablis, Laird, Cressida and Joy, Arthur and Brixaby, Shadow, and the blue pair.

Arthur glanced around, then exchanged glances with Brixaby, who had taken the opportunity to lean over to sniff at the card-lock bracelets. He tested the runes with his forked tongue.

Meanwhile, Arthur was doing his best not to let his inner discomfort show. Lung Bei’s block had been so subtle that he had not truly noticed it until he tried and failed to use his skills. This was much cruder.

There was a subtle weight pressing on his heart as if the block were a physical thing. It wasn't something that he could ignore or that could sneak up on him. And though he couldn't put his finger on it, he felt like this block was the result of a Rare power. One that was still strong enough to interfere with the Legendary cards in his heart. But if he pushed it, he felt he might be able to break through. That gave him a little comfort.

Brixaby tilted his head this way as he studied the bracelets. "What do these runes mean?"

"I'm not sure."

"Do not scratch or try to break them," Laird rumbled from above. "I understand that the backlash of ruining enchanted objects can be severe."

Brixaby recoiled for a moment, but just as quickly bent back to examining them. He was bent over, his tail wrapped around the back of Arthur's neck for balance. "I do like how they glow, Arthur. These would look good against my scales."

"You want a card lock?" Arthur asked.

"Of course not. But surely there are benign runes."

"Only if you can get them to glow red," Joy piped up, "then they would match your eyes.”

Brixaby turned to her. “You think that would look good?"

"Oh yeah, super scary," Joy said, curving her neck to look at her own pink scales. "But red wouldn't work for me. Red would look good on you, too," she said to the blue dragon, Len.

Len looked mildly startled to be addressed at all. He and his rider, Tamya, were trailing a few steps behind the group as if they were hoping not to get noticed.

After an awkward moment, Len bobbed his head to Joy. "As you say, ma'am."

Joy gave an exaggerated sigh and returned to Brixaby.

They continued across the length of the mesa, and that was no short walk. Arthur found it interesting that Chablis did not ask for the dragons to simply take them there, nor did any of the dragons offer. In fact, none of the Free Hive dragons had saddles on them, and though he could occasionally see some dragons swooping in the sunset, he saw very few ferrying goods.

Cressida slid up next to Arthur and looked down at the restrictive card-lock bracelets herself. She didn’t look happy. "Why did you agree to put those things on you?" she asked in a low undertone. "Now you have no way to defend yourself."

"It was the only way that they would agree to let you and the blue pair out of the nets." Selfishly, he hoped that this would score a couple of points with her, but her scowl only deepened.

"How did they manage to capture you and Brixaby, anyway? Weren't you able," she lowered her voice to a whisper and her eyes flicked to Shadow, "to use another power?"

He grimaced.

Shadow, walking along with them, had no concern whatsoever for Arthur's pride. “He ran out from my care and challenged the red, practically dared him to throw those nets over us."

Arthur shifted and glanced at Cressida, wondering if she would at least be slightly impressed with this.

The look she gave him said no. "You got yourself captured for me?" she said flatly.

"And the Tamya and Len," he lied.

"It was for mostly you," Brixaby said, turning from his side conversation with Joy. "Even if you are still annoyed with Arthur for his terrible family--which I completely understand as they are awful and I wish Arthur was not related to them--you are still riders in our retinue. It's our job to protect you.”

Arthur wished there were rocks on this flat, barren mesa. Or something conveniently deep that he could crawl under.

He risked a glance at Cressida whose fair skin was flushed red and who was not looking back.

Joy stopped, shivered, and then piped up. “Hey! I just got a new qu—"

"Joy!” Cressida turned to her. “Do you remember what I said the other day about oversharing?"

Joy looked briefly stymied for a moment but then brightened. "Right, right. But what if I told you that it was really important for me to make five friends because then something really cool would happen?"

Cressida sighed.

Arthur glanced from the bickering trio to the red dragon who was striding slowly on the other side of Chablis and not looking their way but was most definitely listening to the back and forth. They both were.

He had so many things he wanted to ask the dragon. He had wondered for so many years if it was a whim that had caused him to give a child an insanely powerful card, or did he have a deeper plan in mind?

But as curious as Arthur was, he knew that there was a time and place for those questions. This was not it.

Finally, they reached the end of the mesa. The rocky land dropped off abruptly into the air, leaving them several hundred feet above a stark desert below. Red-brown rock stretched on as far as Arthur could see to the horizon. There wasn’t a tree or scrap of grass to be seen.

However, there was a strip of something else beyond it. Darker land? The deadened lands that had been sterilized by ancient scourge-eruptions? No. It didn't look quite right, either. Those had been gray. This was darker.

"So, what do you see?" Laird asked.

"We're in a desert," he said. Everybody turned to look at him with an expression that said, "No kidding."

Arthur ignored them. "What's out there? That dark patch?"

"Deadened lands," Cressida said.

"That is the sea," Chablis told him, "though I won't tell you which one for security reasons."

Both Cressida and Arthur whipped around to peer back out. Arthur supposed, like him, Cressida had never seen the ocean either. He wished that he could be closer and get a good look.

"And," Chablis said, "you'll note that none of it is scourge-touched."

She had a point.

"You have dragons. So, I assume you worked dragon soil into the ground?" Arthur asked.

"Yes and no. We mostly use dragon soil for our crops… in its dried form, of course. Dragon soil is so potent that it will cause life to grow to its own detriment. People who handle it in its raw state without gloves grow tumors on their skin. That's why it is dried out for a year and a day before it’s safe.”

“And Legendary soil is even more potent than others," Brixaby added, proudly.

Chablis continued, "Something would grow out in the desert if worked dragon soil into the sand– mostly lichen and moss -- but there's only so much water to go around. The point is," she gestured widely, “scourge-touched land does not cover the entire world except for one little kingdom. Or else the balance between living and dead would be entirely lopsided. No, the scourge covers the most arable land, which happens to be the most valuable to all humanity’s kingdoms.”

Cressida and Arthur spoke at the same time.

"What other kingdoms?" Cressida blurted.

"You know how many kingdoms there are?" Arthur asked, over her.

Cressida turned to stare at Arthur, her eyes wide, and he could practically see the realization that he knew of other kingdoms dancing in the back of her eyes.

Chablis ignored Cressida altogether, "There are six Mythics in the world, and it is thought that each holds their own territory."

Arthur felt a sinking sensation. "There are five Mythics left. Not six."

Laird stepped forward to lower his head in front of Arthur. “Are you certain?”

"I learned it in the King's Palace." This was a gross simplification of what had happened that day, but Arthur wasn’t about to show all his metaphorical cards.

Chablis and the Laird exchanged a troubled look.

"What does that mean?" Cressida asked.

"It means that the balance between scourge-gods and Mythics is shifting faster than we thought," Laird rumbled, then shrugged a massive shoulder. "If the worst should happen, if kingdoms are overrun... Well, it may still not trouble us here. This desert is a vast, harsh place. Over there is the great sea, but it's too briny for everything but tiny shrimp and flies to live. Even the scourgelings suffer and die out there." He smiled full of teeth. “I’ve seen it.”

"Well, how do you live here then?" That came from Tamya, the blue rider. She had been so quiet that Arthur had forgotten she was there.

"We have a freshwater aquifer we draw from, but if we remove too much, we risk contamination from the ocean," he explained.

"I still don’t understand how you think you’re safe from the scourgelings?" Cressida asked.

Arthur thought he knew. "Because the scourgelings are most attracted to life; complex, magical life. This desert and the sea out there are basically deadened lands. They’re using it as a barrier."

Chablis looked at him, then nodded, and he thought she caught a bit of respect in the back of her eyes. "He’s right. Tundra, recently volcanic land, deserts like this… Little areas we can eke out, surrounded by desolation. There are many such islands of life where the scourgelings cannot penetrate, and where people live outside the traditional kingdoms. The world is vast — more vast than anybody has led us to believe. But the Kingdoms teach that they are the only ones in the world – that they are the only safe harbor for humanity. That is a lie. One of many," she added.

Arthur’s thoughts raced. If this Free Hive wasn’t the only one of its kind… could there be somewhere safe he could take the people of his border village? Could they find a place of their own? Or perhaps here?

Could he and Brixaby hide from the King in a place like this, should they ever need to?

Cressida crossed her arms. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Because we aren't your enemies,” Chablis answered simply. “And, though I’m sure you don't believe us yet, we don’t actually want your kingdom to fall."

"After all, the kingdoms fight the scourgelings for us," Laird added, with a toothy grin.

Chablis continued, "But the whole system from the Kings and Queens on down is sickened with its own brand of rot. We knew that the balance had already started to shift towards the scourgelings, and now I hear that it is worse than ever. Tell me, is it true that the scourge erupts more often than they have before?"

"We're in a busy cycle," Cressida said, defensively.

Laird snorted. "Back when I was a hatchling, there could be weeks without an eruption. How often are they occurring now?"

Cressida pinched her lips in irritation, so Arthur spoke. "A few times a week. Occasionally twice in one day.”

Chablis and Laird exchanged another look.

"That’s not good," Chablis said, then clapped her hands in a change of subject. "But not something we can tackle right now. Come, let us show you our hive."

Cressida made a show of looking around. “How can you even have a hive without a former eruption zone?”

"We have not always lived in scourgeling homes," Laird, dismissively. "Our hive is under your feet."

****

This time, they were allowed to ride their dragons, or at least Arthur was allowed to ride Shadow, Cressida on Joy, and Laird bent to give Chablis a lift. 

The dragons leaped off the top of the mesa into the hot air. As they sank, Arthur was able to see the Mesa Free Hive for the first time. As the name suggested, it was carved out of the mesa itself.

The top of the rocky mesa provided shade from the sun and a measure of camouflage from the air. The inside, however, had been hollowed out into a latticework of different caves and open areas.

At first sight, it was a jumbled mix without any sense — no levels like a proper hive that he could see. Some areas were clearly meant for farming: he saw half-open caves bright with artificial light from card anchors which was less harsh than the relentless sun. The insides were full of rows of crops.

Children sat for lessons inside other half-open caves, or out in the open, thanks to the shade from the mesa against the setting sun.

There were areas for livestock, too. He saw dragons with some of the rune-enchanted nets he'd seen before, carefully plucking out sheep and placing them into pens.

The dragons spiraled down. Unlike in a regular hive, there was no guard station or men and women on duty to check people in and out. It was completely open, likely to take advantage of the desert wind when there was any to be had. 

They landed in the shadow of the great mesa.

Arthur frowned at the livestock pens, wondering about logistics. As one of the Hive Leaders in training, he was aware of how much it took to keep people fed and happy. He’d spent nights updating Whitaker’s books with the mind-boggling numbers. He wasn’t sure how they did it.

Chablis followed his gaze and guessed at his thoughts. "We can grow enough crops here, but feeding dragons has always been the main challenge. There is just not enough water or arable acreage for livestock. It's why we're always in search of new cards."

"You raid the Kingdom’s farms during eruptions?" Arthur said, barely resisting the urge to add, 'Like the vultures who wait for dead dragons to fall from the sky to collect their cards?'.

"Not all eruptions," Laird snorted. "Our portal system is… subpar. We cannot get to most eruptions. And we do not take from places which have already suffered," he slanted a glance at Arthur, "only from nobles who can afford the loss."

"You mean like Woodmours?"

Laird smiled a dangerous dragon smile. "I have been waiting for years for an eruption to happen near that place."

"And I suppose you cleaned out Woodmours card library while you were at it?" Cressida asked.

He looked at her. "Of course."

Chablis sighed. "It is a balance. Here, utility cards are much more useful than combat cards. We are so far away from the battles and protected by desolation. Why would we need someone who can shoot fireballs out of their eyes? We would much rather have someone to reinforce the walls, to help us carve out a new layer in the mesa, or to water the crops." She glanced at the blue pair who didn't seem to be actively listening, looking into the mesa hive and whispering to each other.

She continued, "All children receive a card from a random draw at sixteen years of age. From there, they can earn more cards depending on our economy, which we model much like the hives."

Brixaby, who had been remarkably quiet until now, whispered in Arthur's ear. Unfortunately, his whisper was loud enough for everyone to hear. "They have a cave filled with crafters over there. I would like to see them."

Arthur glanced at his dragon. Brixaby hadn't taken much interest in human-made crafts, though he did enjoy human food. The more complex and meatier, the better.

"Ohhh, me too! Me too!" Joy said. “Brixaby, let’s go together.”

“Yes,” Brixaby agreed, both equally cheerful and obviously false. “I want to see if they do anything differently than in Wolf Hive."

The two dragons might as well have painted the words "We are up to something” on themselves. Arthur thought he saw Chablis roll her eyes, but she didn’t say anything.

That was interesting, too. They had started to play nice the moment the card locks went over his wrists.

He suspected that show of intimidation before had been a bluff and this was somehow the real sell. Though what they were selling… he wasn’t sure.

Cressida hesitated, then looked at Chablis. "Are we prisoners here? Are we allowed to explore?"

The woman glanced meaningfully at Arthur’s card-lock bracelets. "You may explore, but we ask that you do not leave, at least for now.” She smiled. “And if you cause trouble, then be aware we do have jail cells: one for humans, and one for dragons. Even dragon children.”

It was the second time that she called them children. Not hatchlings. Was that… meant to humanize them, somehow?

Arthur opened his mouth to ask, but Laird stepped in. "It’s Arthur, isn't it?"

He looked up at the dragon. "Yes?”

The dragon inclined his head and then glanced at Brixaby. “Run along and look at our crafters, boy. I mean no harm to your rider, but it's past time he and I had a conversation."

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