The Thousand Deaths of Ardor Benn

by Tyler Whitesides

  Nemery had noticed the creature, too. Not the first one they’d seen on Pekal, but the closest.

  “Did you know that some Islehood philosophers think the Karvan lizard might be a distant relation to the dragons?” Nemery said.

  “I did not know,” answered Ard.

  She nodded earnestly. “Different evolutionary paths, but there’s a possibility that they stem from the same ancestral lizard. I find that hard to believe, though. In my opinion, there is no creature alive that can compare to a dragon. Just their size alone. Can you believe it?”

  “I can’t.”

  “I’m not sure what to think. Most of the credible theories I take from the early writers like Toom, Kalep, and Eilmer. But there are some interesting modern studies on dragons. Did you know that Isle Davis’s latest book hypothesizes that the dragons themselves impart some sort of regenerative properties to the flora and fauna of Pekal?”

  “I did not know.”

  “Crazy, right?” Nemery chuckled. “The study is based on the question of whether or not the ecology of Pekal could sustain as many large carnivores as it has during peak dragon population periods. I mean, it’s not as big of an issue now because of the dwindling numbers. But he raises some interesting points. What do you think?”

  Ard cleared his throat and looked straight at the girl, firelight flickering on her youthful face. “What are you doing out here, Nemery?”

  She looked up at him. “Same thing the rest of you are doing. Trying to earn some Ashings.”

  “There are better ways for a person your age to do that,” replied Ard. “You clearly have musical ability. Have you looked into auditioning for an orchestra?”

  “You sound like my mother,” said Nemery. Ard waited to see if she’d go on. The words built up inside her until eventually, she did. “Two years ago, I began taking lessons to play the horn. Low brass.”

  It made sense. The girl had impressive lung capacity, and the mouthpiece on her Caller instrument was just like that on a trombone.

  “My tutor said I was extremely talented. She told my parents she could get me into the Youth Musical Institute on Talumon, but they had to pay two years of tuition up front.” Nemery paused. “It was all the money they had.”

  “So why aren’t you there?” Ard asked.

  “Never went.” She used her stick to turn a burning log in the fire. “Whole thing was a lie. My tutor took the money and the Youth Musical Institute never knew I was coming.”

  Sparks! Nemery’s tutor was a ruse artist. Did Ard’s targets end up as devastated as this young girl? That was why he only rused crooked folks and stuffy nobles. They deserved it, right?

  “My chance at a legitimate musical career was shot,” Nemery explained. “So my pa introduced me to a Caller—the one outside Panes who I’ve been apprenticing with. The first time I heard that sound, I felt …” She trailed away. “I just knew what I was supposed to do with my life.”

  Nemery’s eyes were wet as she looked up at the dark sky.

  “My mum and pa split after that. Mum was too angry at him for coaching me down a path where my skills would only be useful on a faraway island, Calling to the most dangerous creatures alive. Not to mention the coming extinction. Not a lot of people talk about that, but my master told me that without the Bull Dragon Patriarchy, there won’t be a long future in Calling dragons.”

  “That’s why you couldn’t wait,” Ard surmised. “You had to Call a real dragon before they went extinct.”

  Nemery nodded. “It’s not really about the Ashings. Though Homeland knows my pa needs some help.”

  The fire popped. “Well, Nemery Baggish,” said Ard. “I guess that’s something we have in common.”

  “Your pa needs money, too?”

  Ard chuckled. “No. Not anymore. What I mean is that I’m not really here for the Ashings, either. Not like the others.”

  Ard had been thinking about Halavend’s payout less and less. It was the old Isle’s hidden motives that drove him on. His new doctrine. Ard had seen Halavend’s desperate eyes, glowing with a righteous hope for Ard to complete his task, no matter the cost.

  “I know,” Nemery said. “You’re here for her. For Quarrah.”

  “Whoa!” Ard rebutted. That wasn’t exactly his line of thought. “What makes you think that?”

  “You kissed her,” Nemery pointed out. “Right outside the hut.”

  “Oh.” Ard felt slightly abashed. “Did everyone see that?”

  “I don’t know,” Nemery said. “But it’s obvious that she cares for you. You’re all she could talk about after you followed the dragon. Is she Wayfarist?”

  Ard scratched his head. “Sort of, I think. We haven’t talked about it much.”

  “You should,” Nemery encouraged. “You could be together.”

  “It’s complicated,” said Ard. And the complication’s name was Tanalin Phor.

  Tanalin had held Ard captive for some ten years now. Three years enjoying her actual company, and seven years in his mind, preparing for the day they could be together again. It had taken Quarrah Khai for Ard to realize that his dreams of Tanalin were misplaced. The perfect pedestal that Ard had created for Tanalin was a standard to which no other woman could hope to measure.

  But Ard couldn’t give it up. What if his view of Tanalin was even half right? What if his image of her really did hold up when he finally saw her again?

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Nemery asked.

  Ard had only ever discussed the topic with Raek. But now, any advice his big friend might have shared seemed tainted. And what light could young Nemery hope to shed on a subject so complex?

  “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Ard grinned, knowing full well that the statement would annoy his young companion.

  Nemery scoffed and tossed her stoking stick into the fire. “I’m going to sleep.” She rose from the rock she’d been sitting on and turned toward her hammock. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll be old enough to hear about your big-boy problems.”

  Ard chuckled. When she put it that way, it sounded ridiculous. And maybe it was. Either way, he had an ominous feeling that things with Tanalin were going to resolve soon. It frightened him, but at the same time excited him.

  Tanalin was here. Not just hunting for him, but her memory was in these woods. Ard remembered late nights, side by side in their hammock, talking about everything. He remembered her laugh. The way she made him feel like every moment spent together was worthwhile.

  Sparks, he still missed her. After all these years.

  Quarrah rolled the broad leaf between her palms. It stung at first, but then a cooling sensation washed over her blistered hands. She rested her head back, hammock swinging gently as she stared through the dense treetops into a starlit sky.

  A little over two days on the dragon’s trail and Quarrah knew for sure. Thieving was her thing. Not Harvesting. If she had to pick up that stupid Drift crate one more time, she thought her arms might rip right out of her shoulders.

  Quarrah tossed the leaf over the edge of her hammock. It was a plant that Lence Raismus had introduced to her yesterday. The icy relief would last only a few minutes, but it might be enough for her to drift off to sleep.

  It had been another exhausting day, chasing those blazing orange markers through the mountains. There was still no sign of Ard. From what Quarrah gathered, it was common not to see the Tracers until they reached the mound of fired Slagstone.

  Since that first day, when the dragon had arrived to eat the bait, Quarrah hadn’t glimpsed another sow. She’d seen deer, goats, and hogs aplenty. She’d even seen a number of those Karvan lizards. But the rulers of Pekal, the mighty dragons, seemed scarce.

  Quarrah didn’t know what she had expected. Dragon population was way down, and the creatures were furtive. Lence said they had likely come across a dragon in the last day or two, but the beast had heard or smelled the crew and moved to avoid them. That wasn’t the popular stereotype portrayed in the Greater Chain. Qua
rrah had basically grown up thinking that a dragon’s main food supply was human beings.

  They had seen signs of dragons, however. A few shed scales, rough and uncut. White scrapes across cliff faces. Dead, charred trees that must have been collateral in the Slagstone firing process. Earlier today, they had even come across an unfertilized egg.

  Quarrah had seen the gelatinous egg on display in the Mooring once. The soft orb was suspended in a clear liquid, housed inside a giant glass box. But after seeing the egg in the wild, Quarrah wondered if the Mooring’s display was even real.

  Moroy happened upon the gelatinous egg by accident as they fanned out to search for Ard’s next marker. It was lying amidst the tall grass in a small basin. There was no birdlike nest to receive the soft egg. In fact, Quarrah thought it looked abandoned.

  Lence Raismus explained that female dragons laid their eggs without nesting, because the hatching took place in a separate location. The sows selected a place in full shade with natural protection from wind and sun. Predators weren’t a problem, since consuming the egg was poisonous to other animals.

  The soft egg Quarrah had seen today was a male. Lence explained that the bull eggs were a golden color, while the eggs which would produce a sow were milky white. Of course, the same was true of the hardened fertilized shell.

  Quarrah had been uneasy observing the gelatinous egg in the basin. She knew a mother’s instinct was strong, and she’d always been taught to stay away from the offspring of wild animals.

  Dragons were different, according to Lence. After laying a soft egg, the sow made it a point to depart from the place. This allowed one of the three bulls in the Patriarchy to come along unopposed. The bull would lift the delicate egg and remove it to another location. Once in place, the bull would breath his fertilizing fire to harden the shell.

  The mother dragon had the ability to sense the timing and location of the fertilization. She would fly to the fertilized egg, carry it to her nest, and nurture the egg until the hatchling appeared.

  It was a fascinating process to be sure, but one that was now obsolete. The soft golden egg Quarrah had observed in the grass would stay there, eventually withering and drying out. There were no bulls in the Patriarchy to carry on the circle of life. The dragons were a dying breed.

  “You did good today.” Raek’s voice sounded quietly beside her. Quarrah lifted her head out of the hammock to find the big man leaning against the tree by her feet. His bald head was covered with a knit cap. There was a slight chill whipping down the canyon tonight.

  “I know it’s not easy,” Raek said. “We covered a lot of ground the past two days.”

  Quarrah’s excellent sense of direction told her that their path had wound mostly northward, cutting through ravines and traversing canyons. The dragon had led them deeper into the mountains, but depending on where she dropped her Slagstone, it might be a straight shot down to the North Pointe shoreline.

  “At least we’re moving in the right direction,” Quarrah said. “You think the pirates will show?” Raek had finally told the crew about their arrangement to escape the island. “I’ve heard they’re not the most trustworthy types.”

  “I paid them only a third in advance,” said Raek. “Two-thirds on returning us safely to the Greater Chain.”

  “How long are they willing to wait for us?” Quarrah was thinking of Ulusal. The Trothian woman had been on her own for a day and a half now. She could escape with them from North Pointe. But Quarrah knew Ulusal was likely already dead.

  “I told them to be in position on the fourth day after the Passing,” said Raek.

  “That’s tomorrow.”

  Raek nodded. “They agreed to patrol the area for five days. We just have to send up a Light Grit flare when we’re ready for them to sail into illegal waters and extract us.”

  “What about the Slagstone?” Quarrah knew that North Pointe was a high cliff. Getting the fired mound to the pirate ship was going to be nearly impossible.

  “Ard’s got a plan.”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Of course not. Ard hadn’t even told Quarrah, let alone the man he now suspected to be the king’s informant.

  “No,” Raek said. “But I think I understand why Ard kept his lips closed about it.” He lowered his voice. “We have a traitor, Quarrah.”

  She swallowed hard. Directly addressing the issue was a strategy Quarrah hadn’t anticipated. If she played this conversation correctly, she might get some illumination about which side Raek was really on.

  Quarrah sat up to show that she was interested in pursuing this conversation. “What do you mean?”

  “The king’s Harvesters knew we were coming,” Raek continued. “Their captain said Pethredote knew our plans! I thought only the three of us knew where that carriage was going this morning. Did Ard tell Isle Halavend?”

  “I don’t know,” Quarrah answered honestly. She dangled her legs over the edge of her hammock. “Ard seemed really shaken after the attack at the crash site. He barely spoke to me at all that day.” If she could victimize herself alongside Raek, perhaps he would open up to her.

  “That probably has something to do with the fact that Tanalin is hunting us.” Raek sighed. “Ard has every reason to be shaken up.”

  “Wait,” Quarrah cut in. “Tanalin? Who’s Tanalin?” She’d heard the name before. More than once, in fact. But only ever discussed between Ard and Raek in hushed tones. Almost like a secret.

  Raek’s eyebrows furrowed beneath his knit cap. “Ard’s never told you about Tanalin Phor?”

  “Not unless I forgot,” Quarrah said pointedly.

  “You wouldn’t forget.” Raek drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. She could tell that he had started down a conversational road that he now wanted to abandon.

  “Who’s Tanalin?” Quarrah asked again.

  “She’s …” Raek began. “Well, she’s the reason that Ard is who he is today.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” retorted Quarrah, trying not to feel jealous. She didn’t even know who she was feeling jealous of. Or why. “She’s a ruse artist?”

  “Oh, flames, no! Tanalin’s the opposite.” Raek reached up and plucked a twig off the branch overhead. “Has Ard ever told you about his first ruse? How he started into this insane business?”

  Quarrah had asked him, but Ard always seemed to avoid questions about his past. For a man so eloquent in speech, Ard sure had a hard time communicating the most important things to Quarrah.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Raek debated for a moment, and then waved his hand dismissively. “Really isn’t my place to tell you.”

  “Seriously, Raek? You can’t start a story like that and leave it dangling.”

  “I don’t think Ard would be happy if I told you.”

  Quarrah took a deep breath. It was late. They were tired. Raek seemed susceptible. “Ard talked to me about the traitor. And he wouldn’t be happy if I told you, either.”

  Raek clenched his jaw. “What did he say?”

  “It actually started cycles ago,” she began. “Someone tipped off the Reggies that Ard would be at Farasse’s concert.”

  “Well, I knew that,” Raek said. “But there are a number of ways that information could have leaked. Doesn’t mean there was a traitor.”

  “And then there was the first night we tried to steal the regalia. The night that Ard got arrested,” she continued. “The king told Ard he had an informant. They set a trap for me.”

  Raek paused. “That’s not the story I heard. Ard told me his disguise slipped and he had to make a desperate attempt to get you out.” He wiped a hand over his face, shoulders slumping with a heavy sigh. “He thinks it’s me,” Raek whispered. “After all these years … Did he tell you not to trust me? Did he accuse me?”

  Oh, flames. This wasn’t a conversation Quarrah wanted to be having. “I think Ard is under an incredible amount of pressure.”

  “I know Ard under pressure,” said Raek. “Thi
s isn’t how he acts. Pressure makes him bolder. Stronger.”

  “He isn’t sure who to trust right now.”

  “He should always trust me.” A bitterness broke through Raek’s voice. “I’m not … I would never do anything to betray him. He’s my little brother.”

  Quarrah sat awkwardly, a long moment of silence passing as she swung gently in her hammock, feet just off the ground. She believed Raek. Not because of what he said, but because of how he said it. There was a hurt in his voice that Quarrah didn’t think anyone could feign.

  No, Raekon Dorrel was not the traitor. A single conversation on the topic had revealed that to Quarrah. Ard’s strategy to separate himself from the crew was a mistake. He needed to talk to Raek, not avoid him.

  “We met Tanalin Phor at a pub in Beripent’s Western Quarter,” Raek suddenly began. “She was a gorgeous woman sitting by herself. The kind Ard always had to meet. There was something about her that captivated him. I could see it from the moment their conversation began. Tanalin was different from Ard’s usual type. She was grounded, smart, extremely driven, and a rule follower. A solid Wayfarist. Tanalin didn’t pay him much attention that first night. Why would she? In the morning she was setting sail for Pekal as a newly enlisted Harvester for Lord Creg—a royal heap of lard based in Talumon.

  “Ard followed her. And I followed him. That’s what people tend to do: follow Ard. Except for Tanalin. I think he liked the chase. There were no available Harvesting positions in Creg’s crew that cycle, but Ard and I signed on as ship hands to get them to and from Pekal.”

  Raek took a deep breath, his head tipping back to rest against the bark of the tree he was leaning on. “Eventually we got in with the crew. Ard and Tanalin became very close over the three years of Harvesting. She was better at it than him. Probably had to do with Ard’s inherent laziness when faced with physical labor. I was useful muscle, but most of my focus was on mixing Grit.

  “One afternoon, late in the Seventh Cycle, our crew was following the Tracer markers. The dragon was a big one. We were already four days in, skirting right along the shoreline. I had stepped away from the crew to take care of some personal business, when I came across a husk.”