The Last Lies of Ardor Benn

by Tyler Whitesides

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ard muttered.

  Nemery watched the little bull tear a leg off the boar and swallow it whole. He sneezed, or belched, an unthreatening spurt of flame escaping his muzzle.

  Proud of yourself, aren’t you, little guy, she thought. Perhaps Proudflame would be a suitable name for him.

  “I thought you said Motherwatch wasn’t laying anymore,” Ardor said.

  “She must have had one more in her,” said Nemery. “Based on the wing development, I’d say this one is barely two cycles old. That’s why Motherwatch wouldn’t leave even when she heard the Territorial Bull Call. She didn’t want to risk getting separated from her little one. And I guess it explains why she’s been hanging around Red Banks. It’s common for a mother to train her hatchlings in the area near where they hatched.”

  “Well, does this change your mind?” Mohdek said, switching the conversation to Trothian.

  Nemery breathed out slowly. “This changes everything.”

  Ardor cleared his throat. “I really hope the two of you are scheming on how to separate that little dragon from Motherwatch.”

  “What?” Nemery turned on him, hoping he was telling some kind of morbid joke.

  “I’m just saying,” Ardor continued, “we don’t have the space or the resources to take them both.”

  “We’re not taking either of them,” snapped Nemery.

  Ardor’s expression rapidly shifted as he processed her words. From focused, to confused, to disappointed.

  “Nemery,” he said. “We have to—”

  “No,” she cut him off. “The first three cycles of a dragon’s life are critical. The bond with their mother teaches them survival, social interaction, and maybe a lot more that we don’t understand…”

  “Well, he seems plenty big to me,” said Ardor, pointing down at the draw. “And he obviously knows how to hunt… so I’d say he’ll be fine.”

  “How can you say that?” Nemery cried. “He’s a hatchling with—”

  “Will he survive?” Ardor asked.

  “There are so many skills they—”

  “Will he survive?” he asked again, forcefully this time.

  “Well, I mean… probably,” she stammered. “Maybe. But it’s not a risk we’re going to take.”

  “It’s a risk we have to take,” he said. “Gloristar’s in position. Everything is ready. We have to do this. Or would you like to come back to Beripent and explain to Hedge Marsool why we don’t have a dragon?”

  “Sparks, Ardor,” she muttered. “This was never my fight.” Why was he coming at her like this? She had only agreed to this expedition as a favor. Because she owed him her life.

  Ardor turned to the crew. “Nothing changes about the plan. Let’s go.” He clapped his hands together, jolting them into action.

  “You can’t do this, Ardor,” said Nemery. “You and your crew promised to play by my rules.”

  “Happy to follow the rules,” Ardor said, “but you can’t change the game. Phel!” He called one of the Tracers over. “I want you to get down to Gloristar as quickly as you can. I’m guessing she’s seen the hatchling by now, but make sure she’s prepared.”

  With every word he spoke, Nemery felt the situation slipping away from her. It had been so many years since she’d felt betrayal like this. Ardor Benn had seemed so vulnerable at the stream last night. So honest and trustworthy. But with a single step, he had crossed a line. And if he thought she would simply stand by and watch this happen, then he clearly didn’t know how much she’d changed.

  “We only take Motherwatch,” Ardor concluded his instructions to the Tracer. “Am I clear?”

  “Aye,” Phel said. But before he could turn, Nemery had drawn an arrow on him.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” she whispered, heart hammering as loudly as a dragon Call in her ears.

  The Tracer stood stiffly, unsure of how to respond. Nemery was shaking. It had been a mistake to make a full draw on her bowstring. This bow was too stiff to hold for more than a couple of seconds. But that wasn’t the only reason she trembled.

  Slowly, with an air of absolute confidence, Ardor Benn stepped between her and Phel. Her hand-carved arrowhead was wobbling just inches from his chest, and she feared she might loose whether she meant to or not.

  “Nemery,” Mohdek said from behind her. She couldn’t tell if his tone was encouraging, or forewarning. All she could think about was the feel of the bowstring as it bit into her three fingers, the straightness of the arrow shaft, the screaming of her own voice inside her head.

  “Before you make this decision,” Ardor said calmly, “remember whose side Gloristar is on. She’s taking Motherwatch to Beripent with or without me.”

  Behind him, Phel was gone, already out of sight to deliver his message to the Glassmind Prime Isless. The other crew members were moving into position. He was right. This ball was already rolling too fast for her to stop it. Shooting Ardor Benn wouldn’t change the outcome. But it would change her.

  Unable to hold on to the string any longer, Nemery jerked her bow to the side, the movement finally loosing the arrow. It missed Ardor’s arm by mere inches, burying into the pale trunk of a dead tree behind him.

  “We’re even, Ardor Benn,” she said, fighting a sudden surge of tears that threatened to fill her eyes.

  “I’m sorry it has to be like this.” Ardor stepped away from her.

  So was she. For four years, she had put him upon a pedestal. And suddenly, in the course of just a few sentences, he had come tumbling down headfirst.

  Ardor cast her one last regretful look before turning to sprint through the trees. Just when she thought she might collapse, Nemery felt Mohdek’s steady hand slide around her waist. She dropped her head onto his firm shoulder and let a few tears spill. One for Motherwatch. One for Proudflame. And one for the shattered foundation upon which she had started her new life.

  “Come,” Mohdek said softly. “We should gather our things and go.”

  She was surprised that he didn’t suggest fighting the crew. But he knew just as well as she did what a Glassmind was capable of. The fight would be over before it began.

  “No,” she replied, standing up tall. “We have to stay and see what happens. In case the hatchling needs us after they take Motherwatch.”

  Mohdek smiled sadly. “It will not be easy to watch. You know which side I’ll be rooting for.”

  From the top of the draw, gunshots sang out through the mountain stillness, sending birds into the air.

  It had begun.

  Ard stopped running as the gunshots echoed down the draw. A tiny part of him was surprised that Nemery hadn’t shot him in the back. He cursed at himself for the way things had just unfolded. Little Nemery Baggish… Did Ard have to destroy every relationship in his life?

  The walls of the draw were steeper as he got closer to where Gloristar was hiding. Best not to go much farther, for fear of spooking Motherwatch into taking a different path.

  Peering down the slope, he could see that the dragon wasn’t moving yet. The spines on her back were raised, wings elevated in an aggressive stance as the little hatchling huddled under her breast.

  More shots sounded and Ard saw a blur of movement in the trees at the top of the draw.

  Don’t get any closer, Ard silently urged the crew. She could lash out. Maybe Mohdek had been right. This plan wasn’t turning out to be as effective as Ard had hoped. And the risk…

  One of the crew members shouted something that sounded like a warning. Then Ard saw a Grit pot come hurtling through the trees. It struck the open grass, detonating with a ball of flame and smoke.

  Ard doubted a fiery explosion would do any damage to a dragon’s hide, but it certainly scared her more than the gunshots. The Blast Grit caused Motherwatch to rear up on her hind legs. At the same time, the hatchling screeched, darting down the draw.

  Motherwatch dropped, moving after him. For a moment, Ard thought their plan might be successful. A
bout halfway to Gloristar’s position, the hatchling decided to scamper up the slope on the opposite side of the draw. There must have been crewmen in place, because two pairs of Rollers sounded in answer to the charge. Ard saw the hatchling flinch, lead balls pinging off his tough scales. He growled, swiping his short tail back and forth in rage.

  With a pounce, Motherwatch reached her baby on the hillside. Scooping one of her stout forearms around the smaller dragon, she flung him back down to the grassy draw.

  Motherwatch hissed, her huge mouth opening with a snarl. Blindly, she blew a mighty breath into the trees. Not a breath of destructive fire, but a rush of vaporous air so hot that Ard saw shimmering waves. Every leaf and twig of green vegetation instantly wilted as screams rose and unseen flesh scalded.

  Motherwatch dropped to where the hatchling was scratching and nuzzling at a spot on his shoulder. Ard couldn’t see any blood, but maybe one of those Roller balls had pierced the little guy.

  Sparks, they weren’t supposed to hurt it! He’d told them to fire into the air. If the hatchling was hurt, what chance it had of surviving without his mother would be drastically reduced.

  Motherwatch nudged the small dragon with her nose, pushing him ahead as they continued toward the narrow passage where Gloristar waited.

  Ard held his breath, shrinking behind a bush as the two creatures barreled past. Motherwatch hadn’t likely smelled him on the downwind side of the draw. And at this point, the dragon seemed more interested in getting her little one safely away.

  The hatchling moved through the passage, out of Ard’s sight. But Motherwatch suddenly ground to a halt, her hooked talons gouging grooves in the red dirt. She drew her head back, producing a frantic chirping sound that was surely a warning for the baby.

  Prime Isless Gloristar sprang into view. Ard had no idea where she’d been hiding; it was as though she had just flown into sight from behind that boulder.

  Mid-chirp, Motherwatch’s sound changed to a hiss. Her long neck sprang forward like a striking snake, but Gloristar reached up, sparks dancing across her fingertips.

  Motherwatch collapsed. Her huge form slumped to the ground, head narrowly missing a jagged rock protruding from the steep slope.

  “We got her!” Ard shouted as he scrambled down toward the dragon. The slope was so steep that he couldn’t find a proper footing and ended up sliding downward, hands grasping for any twigs or roots to break his fall. Knuckles scratched and knees bruised, Ard picked himself up, finding that his reckless descent had landed him just feet from Motherwatch’s tail.

  He moved slowly alongside her elongated figure, in awe of her size and the complexity of her features. Her green scales were knobby and weathered, the knuckles above her talons gnarled. She was as still as a statue, Gloristar’s Stasis Grit having suspended even her breathing.

  Ardor Benn had seen several dragons in his life. First, as a Harvester. Then standing face to face with this one on the palace steps. Quarrah had even brought down a sow with Stasis Grit during their expedition to rescue Shad Agaul.

  But for the first time in his life, Ard felt like he was really seeing a dragon. Seeing her without the usual fear of being eaten. He reached out and placed a hand at the base of her neck. Her scales were surprisingly smooth, and her body was quite hot to the touch. Majestic in every sense of the word.

  Gloristar stepped around the dragon’s nose. One arm hung casually at her side, but the other was extended, a thin trail of detonated Grit connecting to the hazy cloud surrounding Motherwatch’s head.

  Ard pulled his hand away, ending his reverential connection with the beast. “How long will she be out?”

  “I have enveloped her entire head in Stasis Grit,” Gloristar explained. “I can keep fueling it with Prolonging Grit, but she will regain a degree of consciousness as the Stasis effect wanes.”

  “How much consciousness?” The last thing Ard wanted was for Motherwatch to awaken in a stupor like a delirious drunk.

  “Her heartbeat will resume first,” Gloristar answered. “And then her breathing. As long as we don’t let her get beyond that point, we should be fine.”

  “And then you can dose her again?” Ard checked. “With more Stasis Grit?”

  She nodded. “Until my internal supply is spent. I should have plenty to get us back to the harbor.”

  “And we’ve got more Stasis Grit on the Stern Wake,” Ard said. “Raek already sent another batch ahead to Helizon so we should have plenty to keep her as long as we need.”

  “Blazing sparks!” Dargen muttered, coming into view behind the dragon’s folded wing. Shenya and Phel were behind him, sharing his astonishment. The three crew members circled slowly, desperate to get a clear view of her face.

  “Do you realize how much she’d be worth?” Dargen continued. “The scales alone…”

  “Don’t even think about it.” Ard recognized the greedy looks on their faces.

  “How are you going to move her?” Phel asked.

  “Like this.” Gloristar stretched out her free hand, fingers sparking. Ard saw a cone of detonated Grit stream from her palm. It flowed over Motherwatch’s entire body, from the heat-crusted nostrils to the tip of her tail.

  There wasn’t much overspill. Not like there would have been had the cloud been spherical. Gloristar was manipulating its shape to fit around the dragon’s body like a loose glove. When she was finished, tendrils of wispy cloud connected her hands to the motionless dragon like an immaterial leash.

  Ard knew Gloristar could manipulate only two clouds at a time—one with each hand. As soon as she released her hold on them, they would either dissipate, or assume their natural spherical shape.

  Prime Isless Gloristar lifted her hands, the clouds of Drift and Stasis moving upward with no apparent difficulty. Motherwatch’s still form rose from the ground, clods of red dirt falling from her, floating lazily through her shroud of Drift Grit until they exited the perimeter and plopped back to the earth.

  Ard stared up at the floating dragon. She stayed perfectly centered in the oblong cloud, oddly stiff and motionless.

  “Phel,” Ard said, snapping the Tracer out of his awestruck wonder. “Round up the rest of the crew and get back to the campsite. Gather our things and meet us at the stream crossing on the other side of that rise. We need to get out of here before that hatchling comes back looking for his mother.”

  Or before Nemery and Mohdek change their minds about letting us take her.

  Ardor Benn pushed past the twist of guilt he felt in his stomach. Homeland forgive him, but he was doing what needed to be done.

  I would take a beast on the mountain over one in my head.

  CHAPTER

  21

  Ard quickly reread the note he’d just scribed onto the tiniest piece of thin paper. He noticed one little misspelling. Raek would chide him for that, but it was difficult to focus in here with all the cooing and flapping of wings.

  Job is done. We sail from New Vantage at sunset on the 8th. Notify Hedge to meet us at Helizon property at dark on the 9th. Come with Q imediately. Bring doughnuts.

  Doughnuts was just code for the explosive mantel clocks that Raek was rigging up, but Ard hoped his partner would bring both.

  He turned to the blank side of the note and wrote: Deliver to: The Short Fuse—Tofar’s Salts, Upper Western Quarter.

  “That’ll be ten Ashings,” said the young man behind the counter, carefully rolling Ard’s note like a Heg wrapper.

  “Ten Ashings!” Ard cried. New Vantage was bleeding him dry. “I should hope at least half of that goes to the pigeon.”

  “Of course,” said the lad. “The pigeons are well fed, and their travel accommodations back to Pekal are—”

  “And you knit them little caps for the winter cycles, I hope,” Ard said. “Give them soup if they’re not feeling well?”

  This befuddled the worker quite wonderfully. “But, sir. They’re… birds.”

  Apparently, Ard was the first client in New Vantage with
a sense of humor. He dug out three Ashings and a seven-mark, slapping them down on the counter.

  “That goes to Beripent, see,” Ard confirmed, reading the labels over the pigeonholes behind the young man. Ha! They even had a pigeon for the little Strindian township of Duway. New Vantage was still a fledgling town, but its services were already competing with any major city on the main islands.

  Ard watched the young man select a pigeon from one of the Beripent holes, sliding the scrolled note into a little tube fastened to the bird’s leg. Ard waited to leave the shop until he saw the bird go out the window, flying into the flat gray sky of a stormy midafternoon.

  Flightsome Messages was an absolute ripoff, but it was definitely the quickest way to get in contact with Raek. Pigeons were fairly reliable throughout the Greater Chain, and Ard didn’t see why they’d be any less so, coming from Pekal.

  He moved up the street, passing a vendor roasting sausages over an open fire. They smelled delicious, reminding Ard that he hadn’t eaten lunch yet. But there was no time for that. He was already running late for his meeting with the harbormaster.

  “Mister Ardor!” called a familiar voice. Speaking of having no time…

  “Hello, Ednes,” he said, not slowing his pace. How had she found him so quickly? They’d returned to New Vantage only a few hours ago, and they’d be leaving just as soon as they could get Motherwatch onto the Stern Wake. Hopefully before dark if everything went according to plan.

  “How was your little hike?” she asked. “Did you see any wild animals?”

  “Just you,” Ard said, pasting on a smile.

  “I’d be happy to show you my wild side.” She lowered the pitch of her voice in an attempt to sound sultry. “But there’s not a room available at the Elegant Perch.”

  “I noticed New Vantage is busier than when we left.” Ard pretended not to catch her implication.

  “I know! Busiest it’s ever been!” Ednes was happy enough to talk through any direction the conversation might lead. “They’re saying all the inns are at capacity. I don’t know what they’re going to do when the rest of them get here. We can’t have tents on the streets!”