Book 3: Chapter 62: Hive of Horrors - (2)

    Arthurs area-of-effect Mental Shield skill snapped up into place.

    That was all that kept him, and everyone else, from keeling over.

    The sharp drilling pain stopped. Arthur glanced at his mind-block anchor card and saw that the bar was rapidly running dry. Perhaps ten percent left.

    As he watched, it dipped by another small notch.

    If not for that and his skill . . .

    He glanced back up at the white dragon. She sat in the middle of the room on a slightly raised platform surrounded by eggs. She was just as affected by scourge-rot as the other nesting mothers had beenespecially her jaw, which was so diseased he saw yellow-white flashes of bone.

    She hadnt moved other than to swing her head around and stare intently at Arthur. But he could feel the weight of that gaze pressing against his Mental Shield skill. It was as if she held both sides of his head within her claws and was steadily pressing in. If he slipped up for even a moment

    Arthur, the ceiling, Brixaby said.

    Keeping a firm hold on his skillhaving a nearly unlimited source of mana behind him from the silver helpedhe looked away.

    His first impression of the space theyd stepped into was that it was vast, with a curved stone ceiling so high up it was lost in shadow. Following Brixabys gaze, Arthur realized that it was dark with brown-black scourgeling bodies. Most clung upside down like bats. Alive and wriggling, the entire ceiling seemed to pulsate with them.

    Arthur saw flashes of long gangly limbs here and there. Not all were a batlike shape. Some had evolved.

    It seemed the mother dragons werent the only ones busy laying eggs . . . or however scourgelings bred. He had no idea.

    What had he led his retinue into?

    At last . . . The Mind Singers voice penetrated straight into his thoughts, despite the shield.

    And so have I, he reminded himself.

    With a snarl, Brixaby moved forward. Reveal yourself, worm!

    I am no worm. I am your host, and I have provided quite the welcome. Her lyrical cadence still managed to drip with sarcasm. My children, kill them all but the Legendary boy. Harvest their cards and bring them to me.

    The ceiling above seemed to pulse. Countless spells, effects, and card techniques rained down.

    Arthur had no hope of counting them all. They represented all elements, almost every material from steel bolts to lightning, boulders of earth, nightmarish illusions he couldnt look away from until they were briefly obscured by a sheet of toxic yellow snowflakes. There were summoned creatures of all shapes and sizes, including a fiery horned dog that was rapidly consumed by rain . . .

    The Mind Singer had been taking the cards from the farmed hatchlings and passing them to her children.

    Laird! Tannai yelped. Dont burn the bodies! The cards!

    Arthur didnt understand what he meant until Laird grunted in acknowledgment. His purple flames flickered, glowing briefly brighter, then dimmer again as he adjusted some quality within them.

    The flames still vaporized anything that came falling down . . . except now for organic material. scourgeling bodies fell straight through.

    There was an awkward moment where Cressida snapped her shield up again. A wave of stunnedand now brokenbodies struck against it like heavy rain.

    Arthur and Brixaby were protected thanks to the Stunning Shout knocking everything aside.

    Cressida let the shield down the moment the worst had passed.

    As soon as she did, Laird and Tannai both jumped forward and started grabbing the scourgeling bodiesno, they were harvesting them for the cards. So many cards, free for the taking, represented tremendous wealth.

    Stop! Arthur ordered. Were not done yet! We need to find the Mind Singer.

    Where is she? Cressida asked. They had not started harvesting, though even Joy eyed the nearby scourgeling bodies speculatively. Looking around, Cressida repeated, Where is she? Did we kill her?

    No, it couldnt be that easy.

    Arthurs gaze turned aside as if he had been compelled. The white dragon still stood in the middle of the room. Debris and scourgeling bodies surrounded hersome had landed on the unhatched eggs. But nothing had touched her directly, as if the scourgelings had done everything in their power to avoid her.

    Or what was perched on her.

    It was hard to tell at first. The white dragons scales were peppered with rot and her jaw was particularly bad. One white cheek was gone, showing teeth underneath.

    And there, tucked up against the base of her neck where a rider would sit, was a brown-black spot larger than the others.

    It was a batlike scourgeling. The Mind Singer.

    Why is she still there? Arthur wondered. She was so still, it looked like she was waiting.

    But for what?

    Perhaps she was exhausted from controlling all her thralls in the hive. In that case, he had to act now.

    The white dragon! Arthur yelled.

    His mind-block card anchor had only a sliver of power left. They had to end this now.

    Brixaby opened his mouth for his Stunning Shout.