Below, Motherwatch slowly lifted her majestic head off the cave floor, chains jangling around her long neck. Somehow, Hedge Marsool was on his feet after the fall. He discharged his Roller in a gush of flame, the lead bouncing off the thick scales along the underside of her jaw.
The dragon let out a screech that rang in Ard’s ears louder than a hundred trumpets. Then Motherwatch opened her mouth and she struck at Hedge. The King Poacher made one more valiant effort to stave her off, thrusting his spike at the roof of the dragon’s mouth.
If anything, Hedge’s final blow only made his death more painful. Motherwatch jolted at the prick, but one of her long bottom teeth had already punctured the man. He fell backward out of her mouth, the single tooth ripping him open like a sack of flour.
Ard flinched, staring down through squinted eyes as the dragon cleaned up the mess, jostling the broken man in her maw until he went straight down, spike and all.
Ard was aware of the chorus of ongoing gunshots, but the lead wasn’t pinging off the Barrier Grit that still shimmered around them.
“Tajis came back,” Quarrah whispered, drawing his gaze across the hillside.
By the looks of it, the Trothian had brought a bunch of Jasperson’s people with him. And they were firing against Hedge’s marksmen enough to keep the attention away from the cave opening. “Must not have wanted to work for Hedge after all,” Ard said. “Hopefully, Tajis—”
Ard was cut off as a massive green foreleg reached up with the terrifying sound of snapping chains. Black talons bit into the rock at the cave’s wide opening, causing Ard to fall backward, scrambling across the rough stones as the second foreleg gained purchase, thick broken chains dangling from useless iron shackles.
Then the dragon’s great head appeared, rising slowly like a snake from a bush. Ard stared into her giant emerald eyes and a calm sensation of familiarity overwhelmed him. It held at odds with the sheer terror he felt, her hot breath washing over him and nearly making him lose control of his bodily functions.
Motherwatch’s head thrust forward, the spines of her neck scraping along the top of the cave, raining loose bits of rock. Her face emerged into the daylight, sparkling green.
Ard gave up his backward shuffle, raising a hand as though she’d want to sniff him like a common hound. He had only one hope at survival, and that was to appeal to Motherwatch’s mercy the same way he had on the palace steps after she’d eaten King Pethredote.
“Easy, girl…” Ard tried to keep his voice calm and smooth. “Easy.” Her cavernous nostrils flared as she seemed to sniff the air. Ard couldn’t smell anything but the irony tang of fresh blood and the stench of the wild beast.
“That’s it,” Ard coaxed. “Lie back down. You can—”
Motherwatch came for him. Not with the speed of a striking snake, but with the steadiness of assured victory. She hoisted her body halfway out of the cave, mouth opening, long yellowed teeth streaked with red.
Something sailed over Ard’s head, smashing against one of the dragon’s horns with a sizzle of sparks. Motherwatch instantly went limp, green eyes rolling back as she collapsed across the cave’s threshold. The shimmering detonation cloud encompassed Motherwatch’s head, spilling partway down her neck. Ard’s feet were mere inches from the cloud’s perimeter, and he could still feel the heat of the dragon’s breath through the soles of his boots.
He tried to stand up, legs giving out twice before he found Quarrah’s arm for support. In the hills beyond, all shooting had ceased at the sight of the beast.
“Was that your plan?” she asked.
“She got rid of one of our problems.” His voice was unusually shaky.
“By the looks of it, she nearly got rid of you,” Quarrah said.
“She wasn’t going to eat me,” Ard said, more to assure himself.
“Oh, really? That’s not what I saw.”
“She didn’t before”—he stared at the still dragon—“on the palace steps.”
“Maybe Motherwatch just wasn’t hungry that night.”
But Ard didn’t want to believe it was something so ordinary. He’d felt a connection with her then. Something he couldn’t explain. Something beyond her animal instincts. Even that verse in Wayfarist Voyage alluded to their bond—that he, Ardor, would be the one to send her to the Homeland and see her transformed.
Would she have eaten him just now? If Quarrah hadn’t thrown that Stasis Grit, would Motherwatch have looked Ard in the eyes with that same measure of mercy she had shown him on the palace steps? Or would the dragon have felt, like Queen Abeth did, that any debt she might have owed him was now paid off? That ripping her away from her hatchling on Pekal made them even for the egg he’d delivered. And like Lyndel, would Motherwatch be willing to kill a man she had once considered an ally?
“Looks like the threat of a dragon was above their pay grade,” Quarrah said, gesturing across the hills. Hedge’s surviving shooters were making a hasty retreat through the Pale Tors.
Ard cast a glance at Jaig Jasperson’s dead body, lying in a pool of blood near the canvas shade awning.
“Let’s hope Tajis and the others are open to having a new leader,” Ard said. “We can’t chance moving Motherwatch again. I don’t know where we’d put her. We’ll ask this crew to stay on. Tell them we’ll hire them at whatever rates they had agreed on with Jasperson.”
“Can you afford that?” Quarrah asked.
“Does it matter?” said Ard. “We just need to keep her contained here for a little while longer.”
“She’s not very contained now.” Quarrah pointed toward the dragon’s huge body spilling out of the cave. “And what are we supposed to do when she’s Moonsick and we have no Metamorphosis Grit to transform her? Sparks. We don’t even know if that’ll do what we hope it will do.”
Ard didn’t appreciate Quarrah’s skepticism, but he wasn’t going to call her on it moments after she’d saved his life.
“Raek and San will have an extra vial of Grit when they get back,” assured Ard. “I’ll just hang tight until then.”
“Here?” Quarrah cried.
He shrugged. “Someone has to make sure Motherwatch gets her regular doses of Stasis Grit. Especially now that she’s not chained down.” Not that those shackles had done much.
To Ard’s surprise, Quarrah shook her head. “It should be me.”
“What?”
“Raek and San will go straight to the Be’Igoth. You need to be there for Raek. Tell him exactly what information he needs to communicate into the past.”
“It’s all in my books.”
“I didn’t think you’d finished them.”
“I’m close,” said Ard. “And you know the information that’s missing.”
Quarrah shook her head. “Too much pressure for me. If we screw up one little detail, all of time and space could collapse in on itself. That sounds like something only Ardor Benn would dare tinker with.”
Ard wasn’t sure how to take that, but he was grateful for Quarrah’s offer. “You’ll be all right?” He felt bad leaving her alone in the Pale Tors, especially with Motherwatch dangling out in the open. “Raek and I might not make it back here until a few days into next cycle.”
“I can handle myself,” she assured him.
Ard had no doubt about that. He glanced back at the motionless dragon. He felt a strange debt to the creature already. After all, she had now disposed of two of Ard’s biggest enemies.
Now I just need you to turn into a god and take care of all our other problems. Ard took a deep breath. Was that too much to ask?
So many ways to die. I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit wondering which way will claim me.
CHAPTER
30
The rain was bitterly cold at this altitude. Nemery had watched it fall all night, rose tinted in the light of the Red Moon. It was a mere drizzle now in the momentary darkness between the setting of the Moon and the rising of the sun that would mark the first day of the Sixth Cycle
—the start of autumn. Behind her, the eastern horizon was starting to lighten, the blackness over the sea turning to pale blue.
Pale blue—the color of the Glassminds’ skin. It was as if dawn itself was heralding the coming mass transformation.
“Here they come,” Mohdek said, peering up the slope toward Goldred’s Scramble. He said it in Landerian, probably for the benefit of San Green, who was lying under a conifer with dense, low branches. The young man was wrapped in a blanket and his eyes were closed, but Nemery didn’t think he was asleep. How could any of them sleep on a night like this?
“Is he with them?” she asked.
“I can’t make it out from this distance,” Mohdek replied. They had parted ways with Raekon Dorrel just before sunset last night, the three of them remaining at the tree line while Raek had gone ahead on his own, crossing the open slope, making his way up the scramble of rocks, and moving onto the glacier. Past the Redeye line toward an inevitable fate.
It had been a grueling week of hiking to make it to the summit in time. San was hardier than he looked, though he basically collapsed whenever they stopped to rest.
Nemery had quickly learned that Raek’s endurance was completely reliant on regular detonations of Compounded Health Grit inside his chest. He had told her the story of Pethredote’s sword and the experimental and unethical surgery to keep Raek alive so they could beat information out of him.
His stories had reshaped the way she viewed him. Raekon Dorrel was more than Ardor Benn’s right-hand man. He was a complex individual constantly torn between his loyalty to a childhood friend and his desire for a life of his own. Nemery now understood his need to transform, and she supported it fully, despite any concerns she had about their plan to crack his skull afterward.
“Garifus is leading the group,” Mohdek whispered in Trothian. “I don’t see the other Glassminds yet.” He glanced over at her, his face lined with concern. “You still want to go through with the plan?”
Nemery gritted her teeth. “We have to.” She tried not to think of the children among them. She tried not to think of Wilder Far.
Nemery and her companions had managed to turn one of the cultist caravans back to New Vantage, depriving their camps of food and destroying their tents. That group had given up several days ago, making empty promises to try again next Passing. Clearly, they didn’t understand their leader’s plan. If Garifus Floc was successful, then the Moonsickness would come to them next Passing.
Nemery had celebrated that small victory, but had it even made a difference? There were still a hundred and forty cultists that had crossed the Redeye line, now ready to undergo the transformation. A hundred and forty new Glassminds. And with their ability to move through Spherical Time, as Raek had explained it, they could spread across Pekal in the blink of an eye.
Would her dragons even stand a chance? She and Mohdek had counted them as they’d come to roost at the summit last night. The numbers looked good, even without Motherwatch. There were several new hatchlings, and some of the adolescent dragons had really hit a growth spurt last cycle. Would they be enough against a united force like the Glassminds?
Nemery heard a rustle in the dark woods behind them. Before she had a chance to wonder, Mohdek spoke. “Raekon comes.”
His statement was finally enough for San to open his eyes. The young man slid out from under the tree, blanket draped across his shoulders. Coming alongside Nemery, he peered into the darkness, the three of them waiting as the rustling grew louder.
She had learned over the last week just how little stealth Raek possessed. Not surprising for a man of his stature, but Nemery hoped that he would never mention the way he’d crept up on her that day in Bo’s Glen.
Raek appeared suddenly through the trees, and Nemery reared back in surprise. She couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness, but his arms were outstretched blindly and his mouth kept opening and closing as if trying to speak.
Sparks! How had this happened? Only hours into his Moonsickness, and the man looked like he was bordering the third phase.
“Stop it, Raekon,” snapped Mohdek. “There is no humor in that.”
“Aw…” Raek dropped his arms. “How could you tell?”
Nemery’s expression swung from frightened to annoyed, without a trace of amusement. It was hard to be too upset with him, though. By now, she knew Raek well enough to know that joking was the best way for him to deal with the unthinkable fear he must be feeling.
“Moonsick people put off a very different energy than what I’m seeing from you,” explained Mohdek.
“But I am Moonsick,” Raek said, his tone more somber than usual.
“I meant real Bloodeyes,” Mohdek said. “The ripe ones.”
“Well, let’s hope I never get that far.” Raek glanced up the grassy slope in the direction of the Scramble.
San stumbled over to him, a glass vial clutched in one hand while he rubbed his eyes with the other. “You ready?”
“Wait,” said Nemery. “You’re doing it here? Now?” She didn’t like the idea of the transformation happening so close to Garifus’s position.
“Sooner the better.” Raek pressed a hand to his chest.
“How are you going to… you know…” She pantomimed hitting Raek over the head.
The big man stooped down and plucked a fist-sized rock from the soft ground. “I suppose this’ll do the trick.”
“There’s no science to it?” she croaked. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“Then I guess you’ll have to hit me again.” He held out the rock, but Nemery tucked her hands behind her back.
“I’m not doing it.”
“Then I’ll have to do it myself,” he said. “You don’t happen to have a mirror?”
Nemery reached out with trembling hands and took the rock.
“The Transformation detonation should only affect Raekon, since he’s the only one Moonsick,” San explained, holding out the vial.
“San,” grunted Raek. “Just do it already. This isn’t a college lecture.”
San took a deep breath and hurled the small vial at the ground. Nemery saw the thin glass break, but there was no spark. No detonation.
“What happened?” Mohdek took a step closer.
“Oh, flames.” San Green dropped to his knees, touching the damp soil that had absorbed the undetonated liquid. “I’m an idiot. A blazing idiot…”
Raek sighed wearily. “You forgot to add the Slagstone fragment.”
San looked up, his tired face strained. “I wasn’t thinking… I’ve been keeping them separate while we hiked so there wouldn’t be an accidental detonation.”
“Now what?” Nemery cried. “You’ll have to go up there and use one of Garifus’s detonations?”
“No.” San sprang to his feet. “We brought another vial as a backup.”
“Wait.” Raek caught the young man by the elbow as he moved for his pack. “Something’s not right.”
“What do you mean?” asked San.
“I can’t explain it.” Raek shook his head, an ironic chuckle on his lips. “It’s just a… feeling.”
“You don’t think—”
“We need to get out of here,” Raek cut him off. “We need to get back to Beripent. Back to Ard.”
“What about your transformation?” Nemery asked.
“If we move fast, we can get home before I slip into the final stage of Moonsickness.”
“Why?” she said. “Why would you risk that? Just because you have a feeling?”
“I know how this must sound,” said Raek. “And I’m not a religious man. But we’ve learned things about the Urgings…”
“You told me,” she said. “But how do you know this Urging is coming from you? What if Garifus or one of the other Glassminds is trying to make you feel something? Trying to prevent you from transforming because it’s the only chance we have to stop them.”
“The plan was never to stop them,” Raek admitted.
“But the dragons�
��” stammered Nemery.
“Yeah,” Raek said. “They’re probably all going to die.”
She felt anger bubbling up inside her. “And you’re okay with that?”
“I mean, I wish there was another way, but I have to get back to Beripent—”
“To check in with Ardor Benn?” Nemery cried. “I thought you were here to spite him, not to go running back to him.”
“Listen to me.” Raek’s tone was stern. “It’s not your skull on the line here. I know what I just felt. Detonating our last vial of Transformation Grit isn’t supposed to happen. At least… not now.”
Nemery dropped the rock she’d been holding. “I guess this is it then. This is where we part ways. I trust you can find the trail back down to New Vantage?”
Raek sniffed against the nip of the cold dawn. “You’re not coming with us?”
“You may be done here.” She glanced at Mohdek. “But this is our home.”
“You’re going to stay and fight them?” Raek shook his head again. “Look, Nemery. We did our best to stop them all from getting here. But now that they’ve made it, what do you really think you can do?”
Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. “If they’re planning to kill the dragons, then I’m going to start the fight before they’re ready.”
“What?” San took a curious step forward.
“The last caravan was toting a Caller’s instrument,” explained Nemery. “Moh got his hands on it a few hours ago.”
“You’re going to Call the dragons down from the summit before the cultists transform?” Raek cracked his knuckles. “Bold plan. What are you waiting for?”
“The dragons are lethargic on the summit during the Passing,” said Nemery. “I have to wait a little bit longer for them to come out of it.”
“How many will come?”
The Last Lies of Ardor Benn Page 49
