The Last Lies of Ardor Benn

by Tyler Whitesides

  “Time to go home.” Ard clapped his hands to expedite the command. “Closing early. Get out of here.”

  Wordlessly, she set down the knife and moved out the door where they had just entered. Good. That was one less person to get in the way of this slapdash escape. He led them around a deep wash basin, stopping in front of the closed door to the storage room.

  “Open it,” Alumay ordered.

  “Me?” Ard’s head was spinning, trying desperately to plot a way out as he grabbed the doorknob. Maybe he could swing it shut the moment the Glassminds were across the threshold. Bracing himself, Ard pulled open the door. But his fear suddenly turned to dread, his anxiety to astonishment, as Garifus Floc looked at him with a smile.

  “Well done, Ardor Benn,” said the Glassmind.

  On feet that were quickly growing numb, Ard pushed past Garifus and peered into the Puckering Lizard’s storage room.

  Impossible.

  The space was filled with dragon eggshell. Ard saw the black boxes that Tobey and Marah had described, the ones the orphans had said were delivered to Tall Son’s Millinery. Many of the boxes were lidless, and Ard could see the sparkle of eggshell in cream and amber as late afternoon sunlight angled through the back window.

  Impossible!

  Yet it was all here—or at least an impressive collection of it. Ard was the first to walk into the room, dazed and completely speechless as he moved between two aisles of shell fragments.

  How had it gotten here? Nobody knew Ard was heading to the Puckering Lizard. Not even Ard himself, until a few minutes ago. How had the shell magically transported from—

  Hedge Marsool.

  It had to be him. The King Poacher and whatever he was using to see the future… Now the Glassminds would have Visitant Grit. Garifus Floc would complete the Sphere, and Centrum would have his way. This was the end.

  “You have earned the right to live on,” Garifus said to Ard. “You will have the opportunity to reach the Homeland. To transform like us.”

  Ard shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. I’m not joining your blazing cult on a hike up Pekal.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “A day cometh when all must speedily go unto the Homeland.”

  “That verse…” Ard whispered. “It’s about the Great Egress.” He had first heard it from the Realm, but he’d read it a hundred times since in his own studies in the Mooring.

  “Yes,” said Garifus. “It is a time when every man, woman, and child will have the opportunity to transform—to become part of the Homeland.”

  “How?” Ard said. “People won’t go along with you just because you transformed.”

  “They don’t have to go anywhere,” said Garifus. “We will bring the transformation to them.”

  “Moonsickness?” Ard muttered.

  Garifus nodded. “Once the Sphere is complete, the dragons will pose no threat to our strength. We will wipe them from the slopes of Pekal, and the next Passing will bring Moonsickness to every living soul in the Greater Chain. We will then provide Transformation Grit to those who share our ideals. Civilization will become perfected.”

  Ard felt weak. He needed to sit down. This was the true meaning of the Great Egress. Why hadn’t he seen it sooner?

  Alumay passed him, carrying six huge boxes toward the back door of the room. Manipulated clouds of Drift Grit enclosed her load, allowing her to move with ease.

  “Why?” Ard asked. “Why are you doing this?”

  “The world is evil, Ardor Benn,” said Garifus. “Don’t you see it? In a civilization where we all share consciousness, there will be no more crime. No more lies. People will do the right thing because they will see the value in it.”

  “Or because they’ll be afraid,” said Ard. “Afraid that doing anything against the majority could cause their minds to be snuffed out like a candle.”

  “You do not understand perfection as I do.” He sent two more boxes of shell floating over to Alumay with a wave of his hand.

  “What you’re describing isn’t perfection,” Ard said. “It’s… dominion.”

  Garifus shrugged. “We will see if your mind is changed when the great day of egress is upon us all.” He crossed the room, pushing both hands in front of him. In a tremendous rush of Void Grit, the entire far wall blew outward in a spray of dust and debris. Somehow, the roof remained intact, likely held by an unseen Barrier detonation.

  Alumay lifted all the boxes of dragon shell at once, reminding Ard how Gloristar had once transported Motherwatch. Without a backward glance, she moved into the street.

  “We will meet again, Ardor Benn,” said Garifus Floc. “And when we do, you will beg for the transformation from your Moonsick state.”

  Ard couldn’t say anything, barely standing on trembling legs as the two Glassminds disappeared with the Islehood’s entire storage that shouldn’t have been there.

  “I’m sorry, Ardor,” came a voice from behind. Pirel Gulwar was standing in the kitchen, face downcast in shame, empty hands clutched in front of him.

  “They told me you’d be coming,” said the barkeep. “Swore me to secrecy until after them Glassminds left with the shell.”

  Ard turned, his anger boiling up in Pirel’s direction. “Who did this?” He moved after the man, who retreated through the kitchen until Ard cornered him against the bar. Nowhere to go.

  “Who did you sell me out to?” he bellowed in the barkeeper’s face.

  “Don’t know,” Pirel squeaked. “They just showed up an hour or two ago, started loading that stuff into the storage room like they owned the place. I was going to put up a fuss, but they offered me a thousand Ashings to keep my mouth shut.”

  “That’s how much I’m worth to you?” Ard grabbed the man by the front of his stained apron. “After all these years?” Honestly, it was a fair price. Ard had sold people out for much less. People he knew better than Pirel Gulwar.

  The front door to the Puckering Lizard flew open. Ard released Pirel, who dropped behind the counter in fear. But the figures at the door were not enemies.

  “Ard!” Raek shouted. “You’re not dead!”

  “Hedge moved the dragon shell here,” said Quarrah.

  “Yeah.” Ard moved around to greet them between two of the long tables. “He knew I was coming before I did.”

  “Where’s Garifus?” Raek peered into the kitchen through the open door.

  “Gone,” replied Ard. “And he took all the dragon shell with him.”

  “Let him have it,” Raek said. “At least he left you alive.”

  “No,” said Ard. “He needs Visitant Grit to complete the Sphere. And once he does that, he’s going to eliminate the dragons in order to cause mass Moonsickness. It’s the Great Egress.”

  Raek dropped heavily onto one of the benches, nearly breaking it under his weight. Ard heard him let out a world-weary sigh, running one hand over the top of his sweaty bald head. His hands were shaking. Looked like he was due for another Health Grit detonation.

  “How do we stop him?” Raek asked.

  “By beating him to the punch.” Ard looked from Raek to Quarrah. “We detonate Visitant Grit and I become a Paladin Visitant again.”

  “Are you insane?” Raek croaked. “That’ll destroy everything.”

  “Not destroy,” Ard corrected. “This will reset everything.”

  “Yeah, and we’ll puff out of existence with it,” Raek reminded him.

  “It’s been done before,” Ard said, “to save civilization. Every successful Paladin Visitant has reset the timeline. The Prime Isles of the future made that call. They erased their own existence in order to give humanity another chance to do things better.” He gripped the edge of the table. “I don’t see that we have any other choice.”

  “I see one big problem,” Quarrah said.

  “Just one?” Raek muttered.

  “We don’t have any Visitant Grit,” she pointed out.

  “But we know who does,” said Ard, pointing o
ver his shoulder toward the kitchen.

  “The Glassminds?” Quarrah said. “We won’t survive another theft from Winter Barracks.”

  “That’s not what I have in mind,” Ard replied. “To complete the Sphere, Garifus said they were going to ignite Visitant Grit on the site of the oldest failed detonation. We know where that is.”

  “We do?” asked Quarrah.

  “It’s here, in the oldest city in the Greater Chain,” he said. “The site is well known by everyone in the Islehood. The fame of its failure is second only to Oriar’s botched detonation against Grotenisk.”

  “Why don’t you just tell us where,” said Raek, “for those of us who haven’t spent the last year reading books in the Mooring.”

  “Beripent’s Western Harbor,” Ard said. “Detonated by Isless Onsto centuries ago. Well before Grotenisk. Even before the Strondath Era. We’re talking at least seven hundred years back. It was the first recorded detonation of Visitant Grit intended to summon a Paladin who would defend the harbor against a fleet of attacking Trothians.”

  “How do you know so much about this?” Raek asked.

  “I actually did read when I was in the Mooring,” he said.

  “Huh,” Raek said. “You finally learned how.”

  “So that’s where Garifus will detonate the Visitant Grit?” Quarrah checked.

  “Yep,” said Ard. “And he made the mistake of telling Prime Isle Trable, which means the harbor will be swarming with Reggies.”

  “Do we have any idea when this might happen?” she asked.

  “I don’t think Garifus will waste time,” said Ard. “The Glassminds have the dragon shell, but it’s not Visitant Grit yet.”

  “They’re taking it to Pekal?”

  Ard shook his head. “There are already a few shell fragments that have been through a dragon.”

  “So all they need to do is grind it to powder,” said Raek. “They might be able to do that with their bare hands.”

  “True,” said Ard. “Which is why we should get in position as quickly as possible.”

  “Position where?” Quarrah asked.

  “Above the docks,” said Ard. “We can lie low in one of the ship repair fields. The moment the Glassminds show up and engage with the Regulators, we strike.”

  “And by ‘strike,’ you mean steal the Visitant Grit, take it down to the harbor, and detonate it on the failed site,” Quarrah said.

  “Exactly!” Ard cried. “The moment we enter that cloud, we’ll appear to people seven hundred years in the past. As soon as they see us, the timeline will reset, and the Glassminds will never come into existence.”

  “Neither will we,” Raek said.

  “So all of this will have been for nothing?” Quarrah said. “Our entire lives…”

  “I don’t like it, either,” said Ard. “But we owe it to humanity.”

  “How altruistic of you,” Raek said bitterly. “I’d almost think you were a Holy Isle.”

  “Hey,” Ard said. “You know I couldn’t keep that up forever.”

  “Really?” Raek replied. “Because it seemed like you wanted to.” He shook his head in disbelief. “How long had you known? About the dragon shell at the millinery?”

  “It’s not what you think, Raek,” Ard began. He’d really hoped this would come out on his terms, not forced upon his partner in a way that made it seem like Ard didn’t care. “I was going to tell you. I just had some other things I needed to take care of.”

  “Like what?” spit Raek.

  “The Great Egress. Didn’t you hear what I said?” cried Ard. “Moonsickness is going to destroy everyone. Destroy them or turn them into Glassminds.”

  “But you didn’t learn that studying in the Mooring,” Raek pointed out. “Garifus just told you.”

  “I was… I just…” Ard trailed away, truly at a loss for words. Raek was right. He had stayed too long in the Mooring.

  “I guess I just need to know who I’m dealing with,” Raek pressed. “Are you a Holy Isle, or a ruse artist?”

  Ardor Benn took a deep breath. He was honestly sad to see his associations at the Mooring come to an end, but there was no way he’d be allowed to stay in the Islehood after breaching Prime Isle Trable’s trust like he’d done.

  His time in the Islehood was clearly over, but he hadn’t done anything illegal… The queen’s pardon was still intact.

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Ard said, noticing Raek’s shoulders droop. “Being a Holy Isle, having the queen’s pardon… I’m sorry, Raek. But once we enter that Visitant cloud, none of this will have ever happened.” He took a deep breath. “Everything starts over.”

  Raekon Dorrel stared at the floor. “It doesn’t change what you are today.”

  Sometimes everything seems so straightforward. So blatant that I can’t see why I didn’t understand it all a long time ago.

  PART IV

  Through Settled smoke they will chant a name, and the one who restored life will send all hope to the Homeland in the red of night. Behold, this is zeal and ardor beyond Perfection.

  —Wayfarist Voyage, vol. 1

  Be as the eyes in the Ucru, alight with visions. Be as the ears, hearing wisdom. And be as the voice, calling answers into the flood.

  —Poem of the Agrodite Priestesses

  CHAPTER

  25

  Ard peered down at the Western Harbor, squinting against the setting sun.

  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe Garifus Floc is yanking our chain?” Raek asked.

  “What do you mean?” Ard asked.

  “What if he only said he was going to detonate Visitant Grit on the oldest failed site, knowing that you and the Prime Isle would focus all your attention here?”

  “It certainly worked,” Quarrah pointed out. “How many do you think are down there?” She was gesturing to the Reggies, packed so tightly on the ramps and docks below that Ard could hardly see space between them. The harbor entrance was blockaded for a hundred yards in either direction, cannons at the ready.

  Ard and his companions were positioned at the edge of the ship repair field, a wide grassy stretch where damaged vessels could be Drift-lifted. The harsh cliff shoreline was less intense here—more like a steep slope of dirt and crumbling rocks with a series of switchbacking ramps to access the docks at the water below.

  “Got to be at least a thousand of them,” Raek wagered.

  “That’s what I call a fast response,” said Ard. It hadn’t been five hours since they’d left the Puckering Lizard.

  “Trable had already put out a city-wide alert to the Reggies,” Quarrah explained. “He just had to redirect them from Tall Son’s Millinery to the harbor.”

  “Possibly a perfect game of misdirection,” Raek pressed.

  “I don’t think so,” said Ard. “In the Mooring, Garifus said that he can only speak the truth. Apparently, that’s part of being a transformed Glassmind.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Raek. “We should probably believe everyone who says they can’t tell a lie.”

  Ard grimaced. The whole thing could be a big ruse, but there was an arrogant honesty to the way Garifus handled himself. At the very least, he seemed to think lying and deception were beneath him in his mighty transformed state. And Ard was inclined to believe that.

  “Looks like he was telling the truth after all.” Quarrah pointed across the repair field, Ard’s breath quickening as six Glassminds emerged from the neighborhood that marked the edge of Beripent’s developments. Garifus was leading them, and they were moving at a steady pace without a trace of haste to it.

  At the sight of them, a shrill whistle sounded and the first rows of Regulators fell into attention. Ard lifted a spyglass to his eye and examined the approaching enemies.

  “Garifus isn’t carrying any Visitant Grit,” he said, the first indicator that their plan was about to fall apart. “Or at least, nothing I can see. Flames, they’re all empty-handed.”

  “Of course,” Raek said. “They’ve
absorbed it. They absorb detonations and cast them out their fingers.”

  “Well, how in the blazes am I supposed to steal that?” Quarrah cried.

  A cannon sounded and Ard saw a billow of smoke from one of the big guns mounted next to the ramp entrance. Instantly, a shimmer of Grit shone in the evening light and the large ball was deflected with a wave of the nearest Glassmind’s hand. It came hurtling across the repair field, digging a gouge through the grass.

  Next came a barked command, and the discharge of at least fifty long-range Fielders. The Glassminds didn’t even bother to deflect these, taking the shots directly with barely a flinch.

  “Reggies’ll learn quick enough,” muttered Raek, “that’s not going to do any good.”

  The two Glassminds behind Garifus suddenly moved in perfect unison. They waved their hands in opposite directions as clouds of Grit emerged from their fingers. At once, the army of Reggies at the ramp entrance parted down the middle, bodies flying out of control, swept aside as if they were grasshoppers.

  The unchanged stood with the gods, but they were like insects beneath our feet. We slaughtered them without resistance.

  With a chill, Ard remembered the words from the testament spire on the seabed.

  Fifty yards out, the six large figures broke into a run, their inhuman speed perfectly synchronized. It was a free-for-all now, the remaining Regulators emptying their guns, two more cannons shaking the earth.

  Then Garifus Floc leapt into the air, both arms stiff at his sides. Twin columns of Void Grit struck the ground, propelling him higher and higher until he cleared the archway entrance to the ramp in a single bound.

  “Great sparks,” Ard muttered as the other five took to the sky in the same manner, figures silhouetted against an orange sunset. Their flight cleared a trail directly below them, throwing Reggies aside as the six Glassminds soared down to the docks.

  “I told you they could fly,” Quarrah stated.

  There seemed to be no spoken command between the Glassminds, and yet they acted with perfect unity. Their bare feet touched down on the planks of the docks, hands redirecting the Void Grit that had propelled them. They sent the wind outward, shoving back the nearest Reggies and clearing a space as two of the Glassminds manipulated a ring of Barrier Grit that surrounded their party on all sides.