All The Skills

“You are a very, very lucky young man,” the heart deck specialist said gravely, looking down at Arthur through a pair of spectacles he had perched on the end of his nose. “I have seen a card anchor failure of this magnitude kill people, or else damage their heart deck so badly they’ll never be able to use a card again.”

“That hasn’t happened to me,” Arthur said. He knew that for a fact because, while he was still weirdly sore in that indefinable way he couldn’t quite put his finger on, it wasn’t as bad as it had been even a few hours before. But mostly, it was that his Charlatan Siphon card had copied several of the man’s diagnostic spells — all Rare— that he had cast over him.

Unfortunately, because they were spells and not skills, he couldn’t keep them.

But they had been copied just fine, and it felt like he’d be able to use them if he wanted.

Or he would if he still had a mana card.

Arthur had also been worried that the specialist would be able to sense the Legendary cards in his heart deck. If he had, though, he hadn’t said anything about it. In fact, all his attention was focused on Arthur’s card anchor.

“No,” the specialist agreed heavily. “As I said, you were unfathomably lucky. Though…” He had grabbed Arthur’s arm upon his first examination and hadn’t given it back yet. He bent down to examine the anchor so close that his nose almost brushed the inside of Arthur’s wrist. “Unfortunately, it seems that the integrity of this card anchor is gone.”

“Can you fix it?” Arthur asked.

The man snorted and straightened to look at him. “Fix it? No, the anchor is well beyond that. And I would recommend that you never add another one of these things to your body again.”

“Never?” Arthur asked, his voice rising in an undignified squeak. He was glad that Marion had been kicked out of the room the moment the specialist entered.

The specialist gave him a hard look. “Card anchors are, as far as I’m concerned, a workaround to a perfectly natural and balanced system. Anchor failure is distressingly common — not that anchor salespeople will ever admit it. You should be happy with the cards you have in your heart — and from what I can feel from the power of you, you’ve got quite a lot. It must be nearly full.” He reached out and poked Arthur on the chest, right over his heart. “My suggestion would be to develop these and stop worrying about what else you can collect.”

“I’m going into the Dark Heart. I’ll need every advantage that I can get,” Arthur said firmly.

“For more cards, right?” The specialist rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Don’t get me started on that nonsense, either. People get themselves killed every single time. And for what? We have perfectly functional cards available for sale from the city. But no, people aren’t happy with that. They always want more.”

The man’s screed reminded Arthur of Red, his former caravan master. The man had very strong feelings about card users in general, and also thought that having cards went against the general order of the world.

Arthur hadn’t listened to Red, either.

“What happens if I add another card anchor?” he asked, bluntly.

The specialist scowled and then admitted, “It should be possible, though I cannot recommend against it strongly enough. Give it a long rest before you do — as in a year at least — and add that card anchor to your other arm.”

Arthur opened his mouth to object: A year?!

But the man spoke over him. “And if you don’t listen to my good advice and do it anyway, then for the sake of your first card, add it to your other arm. Don’t be an idiot and add it to your neck, your forehead, or wherever else your pigheaded generation thinks is ‘cool’ nowadays.” He made air quotes around the word ‘cool’. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose your hand when your card anchor failed. Imagine what would happen if one on your neck exploded.” His voice raised to a near shout. “You’d lose your fool head, that’s what! Or come away with brain damage. So put it on your arm and I hope for your sake it’s the hand you like the least.”

Arthur nodded, figuring this was good sense, at least. He wasn’t sure how he’d look with an anchor tattoo in the middle of his forehead anyway.

“I can’t access the cards inside my anchor. What’s happened to them?”

“Well now.” The specialist leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. “That’s an interesting question. Some scholars say that the cards will eventually be returned to the world. I think this has some merit as every conceivable spell or magical ability has been put into cards, so it’s reasonable to say nothing can truly be lost—“

“I mean,” Arthur said dryly. “How can I get them back out?”

“They’re gone, foolish boy,” the specialist said harshly, taking Arthur back. “They were likely shattered along with your card anchor and now spinning off into the void wherever it is all good cards go when they die.”

“But--” Arthur sputtered. “But—“

“Better than rotting in your arm, I’d say. Card anchors are meant to break like that. At least, the good ones are.” Seeing Arthur's stunned expression, his attitude eased. “I’m sorry. I’m sure that represented a good deal of wealth to you, but it’s the risk we all take with card anchors.” A bit of sarcasm crept back into his voice. “Surely, the person who gave you the tattoo told you there were some risks involved.”

“No,” Arthur said. Then, “What other risks?”

“Well, what did you think would happen if, say, you got in a knife fight and the lines of the anchor were slashed? Or cooking? Yes, I see those little burn marks on your fingers. Or simple sun damage. Moles happen, you know.”

Arthur was briefly struck dumb. “I never considered that.”

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“Well, maybe you should,” he said shortly.

With a sinking feeling, Arthur was starting to understand what the specialist meant when he said he’d been very lucky.

He looked up at the man. “What now?”

“I can tell you that the worst has passed, and you should have access to the abilities in your heart deck. Though I would suggest waiting a couple of weeks to let everything settle down again.”

That wasn’t going to happen.

He continued, “I would suggest you see a specialist outside of this particular hospital. He’s a man who deals with the loss of heart decks, but I think his advice could help you too — he also deals with the rearrangements of decks.”

“Rearrangement?” Arthur asked.

“He’ll explain it to you. Here, let me give you the address.” He pulled out a bundle of loose papers, scrawled down the direction on the top, and then handed it to Arthur. “Now, do you have any additional questions?”

Arthur shook his head. He just felt numb.

With a nod, the specialist let himself out of his room.

Arthur looked out the window, then down at the thin remains of his card anchor. He felt like he had just lost a few friends. Worse than that, he felt like he had failed people, including Valentina who’d given him several of the cards in his anchor.

In some ways, he was going to have to start over from scratch. Though he knew he could do it, he certainly wasn’t that young boy anymore from a borderland village, too naive to know what he wanted to do was too daunting to be realistic. But then against all odds he’d managed to anyway.

He’d managed it because of his cards.

It’s not as bad as it could have been, he told himself. It’s my anchor, not my heart.

Marion had given up all the cards in his heart and he was functioning just fine. His father had raised Arthur not only after the loss of his cards but also after he lost his wife and Arthur’s sister.

Arthur could be strong. He could get through this.

But he felt the loss, all the same.

With a sigh, he struck the note with the directions in his pocket.

That was when Brixaby burst in.

“Excellent, you are awake,” he said. “Have you paid the bill yet?”

“With what?” Arthur asked dryly and made a note of patting his pockets. “I don’t have any spare cards on me and I’m not taking what I gave to Marion.”

Ignoring his sarcasm, Brixaby reached into his Personal Space and started spilling out card shards. There were dozens.

“Brixaby,” Arthur said slowly, “Tell me you didn’t rob a card store.”

The dragon snorted down his long nose. “Of course not. I simply went back to the scourgeling nest and properly harvested it.”

Then, to Arthur’s amazement, he explained he had smelled the shards, and how he had dug down to find scourgelings and scourge-spawn developed enough to provide this bounty.

“No full cards, though,” Brixaby admitted, “And only one Rare shard out of the rest.”

“This isn’t good,” Arthur muttered, then checked himself. “I mean, you did very well Brixaby. But the fact that scourgelings are still developing underground on their own — I thought nothing could survive in the deadened lands.”

“I believe that the nest is being fed from the Dark Heart somehow,” Brixaby said. “It is as if the Heart is a mushroom, and it is sending out spores.”

That was much more poetic than Brixaby usually got. Arthur trusted his opinion, but… “But why the deadened lands and not where there’s still life?”

“Who knows? Now, tell me what has gotten you upset? Who do I need to kill?”

“No one,” he said because he knew Brixaby was not joking. “I just saw a card specialist and the cards that had been in my anchor… they’re all gone. They were destroyed.”

Brixaby snorted. “You can be foolish sometimes,” he said grandly. “Show me your arm.”

Hope lit like a spark from a dying fire. For some reason, he hadn’t even considered he was linked to a dragon who could pull cards from people’s hearts. Surely, he’d be able to do the same for a card anchor.

Arthur extended his arm, palm up to his dragon.

Brixaby stared at it for a moment with unsettling concentration on his sharp face. Then he reached out with two pincer-like claws and… nothing.

He grabbed again, this time the tips of his claws lightly scratching Arthur’s dead, scratchy tattoo.

Again, nothing.

That spark of hope began to dim.

“I can sense them. Barely,” Brixaby said. “But there’s not enough for me to grab onto.”

“Do you think they’re still whole?”

“I do, but…” Brixaby stared at his wrist with narrowed red eyes. “I can’t quite get a grip on them.”

“There has to be some way,” Arthur growled under his breath. Then he stilled as an idea struck him.

Brixaby noticed at once. “What is it?”

Arthur didn’t respond. His mind was too full, racing with excitement. He hadn’t thought of that particular skill in a while — not since he’d linked with Brixaby.

It was a ridiculous cheat. Too good to be true.

And yet…

Arthur placed two fingers on his broken card anchor tattoo and concentrated hard on his Card Shuffling skill. He narrowed his focus to the task of withdrawing a card from the deck he knew was in the card anchor.

Slowly but surely his fingers came away with the healing card, Moderate Self-Repair.

As he lifted it out, he felt as though something was physically removed from him. He reflexively checked his mana pool and remembered he didn’t have one without access to his card.

He was also unexpectedly out of breath.

“How did you do that?” Brixaby demanded, then sat back as realization dawned. “Of course. You must have accessed my Call of The Void card.”

“No,” Arthur said with a half-laugh. He flicked the card at Brixaby playfully. “I used my Card Shuffling skill.”

“That… that’s ridiculous,” Brixaby said.

But Arthur didn’t listen. He concentrated on pulling out another card: Phase In, Phase Out. Then Mana Amendment, Mana Vault, and The Perfect Snip.

Soon, all his cards not in his heart deck were spread out over the bed, and he was completely exhausted.

“Brixaby, can you hide these? I think… I think I need to take a break.”

Brixaby grumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?” Arthur asked.

“Why have you not developed a card tricks skill yet?”

“You mean, disappearing cards and then reappearing them like a street magician?” he joked.

But Brixaby looked completely serious.

Arthur took a breath, thinking, “When I discovered what it could do… so many things happened all at once. And your egg was found not long after.”

“I see,” Brixaby said. “Well, that is understandable, then. I would be much more of a distraction, and my ability comes from a card which makes it superior overall. I doubt you could shuffle a card from someone’s heart deck.”

Arthur nodded and glanced down at the wealth in front of him. His cards, of course, but also the shards.

He looked at Brixaby. “There’s more than enough shards here to form cards.”

The dragon smiled evilly. “That is my thought, too.”