The Last Lies of Ardor Benn

by Tyler Whitesides

  She shrugged. “I’m hoping for one or two. And maybe the sound of a Call will send the other dragons scattering so the Glassminds have a harder time finding them.”

  “You know a Call that’ll make them want to fight?” Raek checked.

  Nemery blinked hard against the memory. “I’ve done it before… in Wilder Far.”

  Raek studied her as if seeing her for the first time. “The Terror of Wilder Far.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Nemery held up her hand.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Mohdek stepped forward. “She has nothing to be ashamed of. She brought justice to our enemies. The justice of Pekal.”

  “Sounds poetic,” said Raek.

  “It’s what Tanalin Phor called it,” Nemery suddenly blurted out.

  “Tanalin?” Raek repeated. “As in, Ard’s old lover?”

  Nemery nodded. “She Called those dragons to attack us while we were harvesting the Slagstone mound with the Royal Regalia.”

  “I remember.”

  “She’d been so matter-of-fact about it,” Nemery went on. “Said our little group had got what it deserved. The justice of Pekal.” She jabbed the toe of her boot into the soft earth. “It wasn’t so easy for me to forget.”

  “Wilder Far,” said Raek. “That’s a plateau on the south side of Pekal.”

  Nemery reached up and plucked a leaf off a tree. She felt cornered into telling it now. And maybe speaking of it would be good. Maybe it would help her do what she needed to do to the cultists this morning.

  “Moh and I had been following a big group of poachers,” she began. “Trying to decide how to deal with them after they harvested an illegal Slagstone. After a couple of days, they rendezvoused at Wilder Far with a group of smugglers who were supposed to move the goods back to the Greater Chain.”

  She ripped the thin leaf in half, tearing it along the central vein.

  “They were all there. Forty of the worst men and women the islands had to offer. I told Mohdek to move downhill. Start scouting potential spots so we could blockade the trail. But I had something else in mind.”

  She dropped the torn leaf. “I snuck into their camp, stole their Caller instrument, and retreated to the edge of the plateau. Then all I had to do was signal Trespassing Sow and wait for the dragon to come. She must’ve been nearby, because the sow was on them before they could get armed.”

  “How many did she kill?” San asked.

  “Thirty-eight,” answered Nemery. “I guess the two who escaped knew someone had used their instrument.”

  “And a legend was born,” said Raek. “The Terror of Wilder Far—a person who could wield the most dangerous weapon in the world. A dragon.”

  But she didn’t feel like a legend. The night had sickened Nemery, causing a deep ache in her scarred leg. Who was she to play like a god, turning nature against humans who didn’t stand a chance?

  Over the cycles, she had come to decide that the remorse was less about the lives lost than it was about the weapon used. She admired the dragons too much to manipulate them like that. To turn them into a weapon that perpetuated humankind’s demonization of the most elegant creatures.

  “That must have been hard to watch,” Raek said. “But today is different. This is a fight the dragons will have to face sooner or later. They’ll have a better chance of killing those cultists before they transform.”

  “Killing them…” Nemery didn’t even realize she’d said it aloud. She’d killed plenty of poachers, impersonally, from a safe distance. She told herself that this would be no different.

  Except that there were entire families on that slope.

  Raek reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be doing them a favor, Nemery. Every person on that mountainside is already doomed. There are only two ways this could end for them. They get Moonsick. Or they turn into Glassminds.”

  “And even those who transform aren’t really saved,” San chimed in. “If they so much as think differently than Garifus and his majority, they’ll end up dead in a matter of seconds.”

  “At the risk of sounding overly dramatic,” said Raek, “the more Glassminds, the quicker the world ends.”

  Nemery nodded, drawing in a slow breath. The reasoning from Raek and San made her feel slightly more justified in employing Tanalin Phor’s brutal tactic once again. But there was only one person’s opinion she truly cared about. Only one stamp of approval she needed.

  “Moh?” Nemery turned to study him. His skin was dry and flaking. She could see painful cracks that had split open and scabbed over. In their haste to leave with Raek, they hadn’t brought enough salt for the paste treatment. Mohdek was obviously uncomfortable, but he never said a word of complaint.

  “Raekon is right.” Mohdek looked off through the trees. “They’re all doomed anyway.”

  “That’s not what I was asking.” She switched to Trothian. “What will you think of me if I put my lips to that horn?” It was a direct question, the kind Mohdek preferred. And she had to know the answer.

  “I got the instrument for you, didn’t I?”

  “Because you’d help me do anything I asked,” she cut him off. They were suddenly rehashing the same conversation they’d had at Gateway Rock. Only this time human lives were at stake.

  “Their logic is sound.” Mohdek gestured to Raek and San.

  “But what do you think?” she pressed. Then quietly, “What would Namsum think?” It was another way to ask a question even deeper inside her. Would he still call me Salafan if I go through with this?

  She saw Mohdek swallow. “My brother always trusted you. And so do I. You’re not a killer, Nem. You’re a savior.”

  “Then you don’t think we should do it?” She was confused by his cryptic response.

  “That’s not what I said,” he replied. “We did everything we could to save those poor souls. Now it is time to save the rest of the Greater Chain. And if that means destroying those who are already lost, then I proudly stand by your side.”

  Nemery drew a deep breath, filling with confidence.

  “What will you do after you make the Call?” Raek asked.

  She picked up her bow. “Moh and I will keep doing what we came here to do. We will defend the dragons against those who would take advantage of them.”

  “They’re fire-breathing monsters,” Raek said with a chortle. “You really think your protection means anything to them?”

  “Maybe not,” she said. “But I know their names. And they have spoken to me since the first time you brought me here. So I guess we both have our heroes to go running back to.”

  Raekon stiffened, crossing to pick up his pack. “This is goodbye, then, Nemery Baggish. The next time we meet, you can count on me looking a little different.”

  “I think you can count on there not being a next time,” Nemery replied.

  “Come on, San,” said Raek. “Going downhill is a lot faster than going up.”

  “It better be,” replied San. “We’ve only got five days until you’re beyond the point of transformation.”

  Raek pulled a leather pouch from his belt and tossed it to Nemery. “A parting gift,” he said. “You’re going to need it a lot more than I will.”

  Then Raek headed deeper into the trees, turning his back on the open slope full of cultists. The slope where a hundred and forty people would transform into Glassminds, sworn to destroy the great shield against Moonsickness.

  Nemery tugged open the drawstrings of the leather bag and peered inside. “Health Grit.” She lifted out a paper roll.

  The contents of the pouch were probably worth more Ashings than she’d ever held in her life. A generous gift, indeed. And she knew the stuff was Compounded enough that it might even heal an injured dragon.

  San Green picked up his own pack, nodding respectfully to Nemery and Mohdek. “Thank you for everything,” he said, hurrying through the trees after Raekon Dorrel.

&nbs
p; Nemery looked over at Mohdek. Somehow, it felt comforting for the two of them to be alone again. She shrugged off any lingering feelings of responsibility toward Raek and San. They were surrendering themselves back to Ardor Benn, to schemes that were a little too big, and stakes that were out of their control.

  But Nemery Baggish had a bow in her hand, an arrow on her hip, and the only person she truly loved standing at her side.

  “I’m ready.”

  The two of them crept forward, using every technique Namsum had taught them about stealth and caution. Mohdek led the way, silently pointing to the Caller instrument he had concealed with leaves and twigs. She took a knee, but here at the edge of the trees, Nemery could finally see what was happening on the grassy mountainside.

  Dawn’s faint glow illuminated Garifus and five Glassminds standing apart from the rest of the cultists. As she watched, the transformed beings ushered five of the cultists out of the crowd, positioning them in a circle around their leader. Two men, two women, and a lad who looked no more than ten years old.

  “Only five of them?” she wondered aloud.

  Mohdek didn’t respond, watching closely as Garifus greeted the newcomers with the cult symbol—a finger raised to touch his glass forehead. They responded in kind, seeming nervous, but visibly excited about the promised transformation. Then Nemery saw the first ray of sunlight twinkle against a glass vial in his hand.

  “Salafan.” Mohdek gestured at the instrument, urging her to act. But she let her hand slip off the priming box. She couldn’t do this. If a dragon responded, it would kill that boy in cold blood. He looked so innocent and eager.

  Garifus smashed the vial between his fingers in a flurry of sparks. The detonation cloud instantly sprang around the group, sunlight dancing through the haze.

  The five humans in the circle went deathly still for a moment. Then their skin began to tear open. It fell away in fleshy ribbons, their new glass heads appearing first, majestic figures rising out of their insignificant husks.

  Even the boy transformed, his new body no smaller than the other Glassminds around him. Once changed, he didn’t look youthful or underdeveloped in any way. The metamorphosis had propelled him instantly into a fully mature state. Nemery should have predicted it. The Glassminds touted perfection, which meant there was no room for growth.

  She didn’t know what had happened to the boy’s personality, or his developing mind. Garifus claimed that his transformed followers retained their individuality, but one thing seemed apparent. The transformation would steal their childhood.

  “Let our minds be one!” Garifus’s enhanced voice carried easily to the edge of the trees where Nemery and Mohdek crouched. He turned his ember eyes to one of the women beside him. “What is this I sense? There is no place for dishonesty in the Homeland.” Then he looked at the man next to her. “And there can be no self-serving ambitions when you are part of the whole.”

  Garifus’s glass head began to glow and Nemery tensed. Not this again… One by one, the lights flickered on across the Glassminds’ scalps. The boy, if he could even be called that anymore, was quick to light his, and with their united minds, the kid had to know what the result would be.

  The man and the woman joined hands, turning to flee. But they made it only a handful of steps before their skulls shattered. Their transformed bodies crumpled to the grass, eyes dimmed and heads blown wide.

  Garifus turned back to the onlooking cultists. “Eight,” he called. “I need eight of you to come forward for the transformation to the Homeland!”

  Mohdek glanced at Nemery. “Eight now?”

  “Garifus needs the assurance of the majority,” she explained as the truth dawned on her. “There are nine Glassminds who have already proven their thoughts and faithfulness to his ideals.”

  “And if all of these transform faithfully, then there’ll be seventeen of them,” said Mohdek. “They’ll be able to turn sixteen in the next round.”

  “That number will grow exponentially until they’ve tested everyone,” Nemery said.

  “You need to make that Call.”

  She began priming the instrument as three of the Glassminds moved into the crowd, choosing the next cultists to come forward. Suddenly, there was a cry and someone bolted from the back of the group. The man’s desperate sprint seemed to inspire a few others to do the same. In seconds, the reverent atmosphere over the party had devolved into near-chaos.

  Some of the more faithful were attempting to restrain those who meant to flee, but none of the transformed Glassminds were making any move to stop them.

  “Let them go!” cried Garifus. “Ye shall know that the great day of egress is upon you when the miserable shall forsake their habitat and walk among you, wild and uncontrolled.”

  Nemery recognized his quote as a verse from Wayfarist Voyage. Her faithful upbringing meant she was usually quite good at deciphering the archaic speech, though in the moment, the meaning of this particular verse was lost on her. It seemed to have the desired effect on the crowd, however. Those who wanted to flee—maybe fifteen or twenty—were released, and they ran down the mountainside toward the woods, gratefully not in the direction of Nemery and Mohdek.

  “Do we try to stop them?” Mohdek whispered.

  Nemery shook her head. “They’ll be Moonsick, but that’s not on our conscience.”

  The eight new volunteers were ready now, lined up at the perimeter of the Transformation cloud. None of them were children this time, but Nemery had moved past that moral quandary.

  “Enter,” Garifus said from the heart of the detonation. “Come unto the Homeland.”

  Nemery had seen enough. She needed to put a swift end to this. With the dragons so close on the summit, she expected to see one within a few minutes of her Call… if one chose to respond at all.

  Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to the instrument and sounded the Trespassing Sow. The vibrant Call seemed to freeze all movement on the mountainside, sending fear into the cultist crowd. Then two of the Glassminds whirled on her position. Nemery didn’t know if they actually spotted the instrument through the trees, or just traced the sound to its origin with surprising accuracy. Either way, it sent her stumbling away from the horn, Mohdek pulling her up.

  “I guess I’ll only get one shot,” she said as they sprinted through the trees.

  “Sounded good,” Mohdek replied.

  It had been a solid performance; she just wished the Glassminds hadn’t noticed them so quickly. With no choice but to leave the instrument behind, what would they do if the Call didn’t…

  The mighty cry of a dragon sent goose bumps down Nemery’s arms. Against her better judgment, she skidded to a halt in the wet underbrush, gazing skyward through a gap in the leafy canopy.

  There were two dragons—no, three!—dropping from the sky like raptors on their prey. In this lighting, Nemery couldn’t identify them, and they were out of her sight as quickly as she’d glimpsed them.

  Then the screams started. Nemery Baggish found her mind transported to the grassy plateau of Wilder Far. Only this time, the terror was magnified by greater numbers.

  She stood rooted to the ground, a wet branch dripping steadily on her shoulder. Drop. Drop. Like the spattering of blood on the slope above. The horrific cries persisted for seconds that stretched like hours. Then a new sound filled the air.

  “That’s a dragon in distress,” Nemery whispered. Her foot seemed to uproot from the ground and she took a step back toward the massacre.

  “Nem.” Mohdek caught her arm, shaking his head.

  “But the dragons…” By the sounds of it, the nine Glassminds were already overpowering them.

  “We can’t help the others if we die today.” Mohdek’s vibrating eyes were full of pleading. “This is just the beginning of our fight.”

  Nemery swallowed against the lump in her throat. Then the two of them were off, branches whipping past them as they fled deeper into the woods.

  I have never let the odds sh
ake me. Some might find strength in numbers, but I find it in the sharp collection of my thoughts.

  CHAPTER

  31

  Ard must have dozed off in the Be’Igoth, but his eyes snapped open as the door swung wide. He sprang to his feet through sheer instinct, but the figure in the doorway was no enemy.

  “Raek!” Ard raced through the debris on the floor to reach his friend. “You’re alive! Thank the Homeland. You look fine. Why haven’t you…”

  He trailed off now that he was closer. Raek didn’t look fine. His face was covered in sweat and his jaw trembled as if he were freezing cold. Ard had seen that kind of Heg withdrawal on him before. But what was really unsettling were his eyes.

  The brown irises seemed to have a milky haze over them, and the whites had discolored to a uniform pink. The skin around them was slightly puffy and swollen, with little veins bulging like streaks of blue lightning.

  Moonsick.

  His best friend was dying. Stricken by a plague that had always seemed so foreign and unimaginable when they’d been younger. It was a horrible reality now, and Ard felt the weight of responsibility crash onto his shoulders. Getting Moonsick had been his idea. Would Raek have attempted it if Ard hadn’t seeded the thought? If he hadn’t been so sure that there was a way to cheat the sickness with a glorious transformation?

  Looking at him now, Ardor Benn wasn’t so sure. Something must have gone wrong. Why hadn’t he used the Metamorphosis Grit yet?

  “He hasn’t had a granule of Heg since yesterday.” San Green pushed past Raek and charged into the Be’Igoth. The lad was noticeably thinner than when he’d left, and he moved with more confidence. How quickly Pekal could turn a boy into a man. “He told me where he kept his stash. It was…” He trailed off, studying the ransacked room. “Homeland! What happened here?”

  “Why…” Ard stammered. “Why didn’t he transform?”

  “It’s not too late,” San said, drawing a knife. “He entered the second phase this morning. We’ve got time before he starts tearing into people.”

  Raek… He was talking about Raek! Not some wild Bloodeye monster.