The Last Lies of Ardor Benn

by Tyler Whitesides

  Ard saw the god-brothers meet in secret, forming a pact to control the dragon population by destroying the other male Drothans. In time, the three would die. But as each one met death he would be reincarnated, vowing to ignore the other males and find only his brother’s egg so he could bring him back to life with fertilizing fire.

  They entered the Sphere with the others, but they exchanged themselves for another version—one with just enough intelligence to hold on to the memory of their pact.

  Ard drew in a slow breath. Evetherey was showing them the Bull Dragon Patriarchy. The same three males, being born over and over again to manipulate the dragon population, making sure it was an insufficient number to provide total coverage against the Moon rays. It was an attempt to create a safe space, making Pekal impossible for human colonization.

  “The Bull Patriarchy was evil.” Quarrah’s voice cut through Ard’s vision.

  “Were they?” replied Evetherey. “The rest of the Drothans had faith that humans would understand and respect what we were doing for them. Instead, you baited and tracked us. You harvested our bodies for your monetary system and built your throne atop our bones.”

  “You’re right,” Ard said. “We didn’t understand. Humankind forgot what you were. They replaced you with a meaningless torch. But you’re back now. We can make everyone understand the truth.”

  Evetherey lowered her hand, extinguishing the Visitant cloud she had been using to create the visions.

  “In my experience, no one can be made to understand the truth,” she said. “Even the Othians, with whom we could share thoughts, rebelled against us. Time alone on the seabed did not soften their hearts. Once the potency of the Barrier Grit had decayed enough, the Othians pressed through. They swam up from the depths, full of vengeance against their gods. But when they could not find us, they began a great slaughter of your people. Yet even the mighty Othians could not withstand the new proximity to the Moon. Over the course of a single generation, they devolved into the race you know as Trothians.”

  “So altitude created the Trothian race?” said Raek.

  Evetherey nodded. “And in a sense, the dragons. From Pekal, we oversaw everything without understanding. The god-brothers’ pact, though its true purpose had been forgotten with their bestial degeneration, had been engrained into the three male dragons and they upheld it instinctually.” She turned to Ard with a half smile. “Until Cochorin.”

  “He wasn’t one of the three god-brothers?” Ard asked.

  “No,” said the majestic woman. “As a result, he was sworn to no pact. From the moment he reached fertility, he strove to restore the dragon population to full capacity so even Pekal would be free of Moonsickness during the Passings. The Patriarchy would never have allowed him to hatch, but the dragon who fertilized my son’s egg did not do so knowingly.”

  “Because Grotenisk never realized I was there.” Ard grinned. That whole event had turned out to be even more clever than he’d intended.

  “Why did it take Grotenisk so long?” Quarrah asked. “The history books state that he hatched in Beripent, but it took three years before he got Moonsick enough to raze the city.”

  “Maturity,” Evetherey answered. “Our young dragons do not need the Moon rays until they reach an age of fertility—usually around three years.”

  “Ha!” Ard clapped his hands. “That’s why Hedge specified that we steal a mature dragon from Pekal. If we’d taken one of the hatchlings, the Moonsickness wouldn’t have taken and we wouldn’t have been able to transform it.”

  “Makes sense,” said Raek. “But we’re just learning that now. I’ve already communicated all the information to Hedge in the past.”

  “It’s all right,” Ard replied. “You can go back into the Sphere and tell him what we need. An update, of sorts.”

  “You must cease in your efforts to manipulate the past,” commanded Evetherey. “You have taken too many risks already. Should anything jeopardize the creation of the Othians—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ard cut her off. “All of time and space will collapse on itself and existence will come to an abrupt end. But aren’t we safe to go back in time and give Hedge one more little nudge? I mean, hasn’t it happened already? After all, the information about an adult sow was what brought you back. It would have been easier to steal a hatchling.”

  Evetherey sighed like a weary mother talking to a disobedient child. “I suppose I could allow it.”

  “How very nice of you,” Raek replied. “Pretty sure Ard was going to make me do it either way.”

  “You do not understand,” she said. “Now that I have accessed the Sphere, the Othians can only use it with my permission.”

  “Wait,” Quarrah cut in. “You mean, Garifus and the other Glassminds can no longer access Spherical Time?”

  “Only if I allow them to,” Evetherey said. “The Othians exist only to serve the Drothans.”

  “Except when they revolt and start slaughtering everyone,” Raek pointed out.

  “There were never meant to be so many Othians,” said Evetherey. “Centrum, like the Othians of old, has gone against the true purpose of the transformation.”

  “To be a token for exchanging life,” Ard clarified. “To make sure that only the best versions of people are living in the Final Era of Utmost Perfection.”

  “Precisely.”

  “So now that the Glassminds have gone off their rocker again,” said Raek, “how do we stop them?”

  Evetherey looked wistfully up at the sky, the breeze playing in her silky white hair. “We don’t.”

  “Wait… what?” Ard cried. “You’re the most powerful being ever to exist. There has to be something you can do.”

  “There is but one of me,” she said. “With the other dragons gone, the Moonsickness is coming.”

  The Great Egress, Ard thought again. It was prophesied in Wayfarist Voyage. Did that make it truly inevitable?

  “You mentioned that the dragon version of yourself was better at absorbing the Moon rays.” Quarrah pointed toward the corpse in the cave’s mouth. “But can you do it as a Drothan?”

  “To some extent.”

  “How many people could you shield?” Quarrah asked.

  Evetherey tilted her head in thought. “It is not the number of people so much as the geographical space. If I was elevated to a certain height, I would be able to hold a shield over approximately one square mile of terrain.”

  “About the size of the Char,” Ard mused. “I guess it’s time to find out how many people we can squeeze into a square mile.”

  “The rest of the world—millions of people—will either be Moonsick, or transformed into a unified force of Othians,” said Evetherey. “To what end would we shelter a relative few?”

  “To keep humanity alive,” Ard stated.

  “We will pose little threat to such a mass of enemies,” she said.

  “Clearly, you don’t know us very well,” said Ard. “Standing right here we have a legendary ruse artist, a master thief, a cracked Glassmind, and a dragon goddess. And we’ve got a college dropout holding down the fort at Tofar’s Salts.”

  “We’ll find a densely populated area and make it defensible,” Raek backed him up.

  “We have just over three weeks before the Moon Passing,” said Evetherey.

  Ardor Benn cracked his knuckles. “Then we’d better get started.”

  In generations, the stories of our exploits will become legend. Then scripture, I’ll wager.

  PART V

  Every soul desires perfection. Some erect facades, feigning flawlessness when viewed from the front. But there is deception there. True perfection is a sphere, seen the same from every angle.

  —Wayfarist Voyage, vol. 3

  Sing! Sing a ceaseless song. One whose end is just a new beginning.

  —Ancient Agrodite song

  CHAPTER

  34

  Ard inspected the floor of the council chamber for bloodstains. There was a one-in-three c
hance that this was the room where King Remium Agaul’s hours-long rule had come to an abrupt end. The death of Abeth’s beloved husband had been a shame, but assassinations and secret organizations like the Realm seemed like small potatoes compared to what they were facing now.

  “She’s not coming,” Quarrah said, her eyes fixed on the closed door that led to the hallway. “I should have stayed with San at Tofar’s Salts.”

  “She’ll come.” Ard turned away from the open window and the horizon tinged with the paint strokes of sunset. “I brought doughnuts.” He gestured to the greasy bag on the long rectangular council table.

  “Ah, yes. Doughnuts’ll do the trick.” Raek was seated in one of the stout wooden chairs, his huge cloaked form making it look like it was built for a child. “In case the Glassmind and the dragon goddess weren’t enough to get the queen’s attention.”

  He gestured at himself and Evetherey, who was leaning against the wall. She had agreed to keep a black cloak draped around her shoulders even though her wings had ripped through during their brief conflict with the Reggies on the palace grounds.

  “Oh, you certainly got everyone’s attention, throwing that iron gate halfway across the grounds,” said Ard. “Pretty sure half of Beripent heard you coming.”

  “You’re going to lecture me about making a dramatic entrance?” Raek retorted.

  “Killing the palace guards and literally flying through the front door was a little much,” said Ard. “Even for me.”

  “It was not my intent to kill anyone.” Evetherey’s voice was calm. “I was merely moving those guards aside in the most efficient way possible. If they died, it was due to the frailty of their mortal forms.”

  “Isn’t that always the cause of death?” Ard muttered.

  With Raek and Evetherey, their little group seemed nearly invincible. The two enhanced beings had manipulated walls of Barrier Grit to shield their entrance from Roller balls, while Ard had shouted for the Reggies to bear a message to the queen, telling her to meet them in the council chamber.

  They had made it to the room with little resistance, and even now, Evetherey was holding a Barrier over the doorway and the exterior window, sealing off the council chamber from any kind of attack while they awaited Queen Abeth.

  The gunshots from the hallway had ceased about fifteen minutes ago, but every time Ard had peeked out the door, he’d seen the corridor choked with uniforms. According to the limited understanding of the Regulators, the Barrier Grit had to burn out sometime. Little did they know that the one manipulating this cloud was, herself, an endless well of Grit.

  Evetherey suddenly stepped away from the wall, head cocking to one side in a distinctly reptilian way. “Someone new is at the door. A woman. The others are addressing her as queen.”

  “About time…” muttered Quarrah.

  Without another word, Evetherey raised a hand, disappearing into a cloud of impenetrable darkness that filled the corner of the dim room.

  Ard sprang toward the door, but paused as he passed Raek. “You might want to follow suit.” He gestured back toward Evetherey’s hiding spot.

  “What?” Raek cried in mock upset. “You’re ashamed of me now?” He snapped his fingers and a spark appeared. “It’s because of my crack, isn’t it.” A Shadow cloud formed around him, concealing his huge form. “Just remember… I can still see you.”

  Ard reached the door, feeling more anxious than he was afraid. To be honest, it was hard to feel very scared when flanked by a Glassmind and a Drothan. He’d have to keep his feelings of invincibility in check. A knife could still cut him the same way it always had.

  He yanked the door open, stepping back as it swung inward. Evetherey’s shimmering Barrier wall held immutably across the threshold, but the Regulators in red had fallen back.

  Queen Abeth Ostel Agaul stood with her hands clasped in front of her, pale blue dress simple yet elevated to an almost elegant appearance due to her poise and demeanor. Behind her, Ard could see shadowy figures that were nevertheless unmistakable as the seven members of the royal council.

  “Ah, Your Majesty!” Ard swept into a respectful bow. “Thank you so much for responding to our—”

  “You didn’t leave me any other choice,” Queen Abeth cut him off.

  “With respect, we weren’t anticipating the council.” He lowered his voice. “Frankly, that kind of paperwork and politics will only slow us down.”

  “You have somewhere to be?” the queen asked.

  “We all do,” Ard replied. “And less than a cycle to get there.”

  Queen Abeth lifted one eyebrow quizzically. “Even if that were true, you can’t possibly think I will let you walk out of here. After everything you’ve done—”

  Ard held up his hands. “Once the council hears what I have to say, you’ll be clearing out a guest room in the palace’s west wing for us to stay.”

  Abeth laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “You are in no position to say what the council will decide.”

  Ah. So that was the real reason Abeth had assembled the other royals. The council would demand punishment, and her final words to Ard had been very clear. Abeth owed him nothing, and now she knew it was time to follow through with her threat. But could she really execute the man who had been responsible for giving her another day with her son?

  Queen Abeth had summoned the council to shield her conscience. If Evetherey was not convincing, Ard had little doubt that the other royals would cry for his swift execution. Having them here would give Abeth a chance to hide behind their decision.

  “Would you like to come in?” Ard’s tone was cordial, as if inviting the queen for tea. He studied her through the Barrier, reading her expression, trying to peer into her soul. The queen seemed distrusting and uneasy, the look of a woman manipulated into a difficult position. Well, Ard would just have to manipulate her out of it…

  “Ard!” Quarrah warned. “Who’s to say that the Regulators in the hallway won’t fill us with Roller balls the moment that Barrier drops?”

  “It’s all right,” Evetherey’s voice sounded in Ard’s mind. Quarrah must have heard it, too, because she turned her attention to the cloud of Shadow where the dragon goddess was hidden. “I can admit them with no risk of that.”

  Ard nodded. “That would be wonderful.”

  “Getting filled with Roller balls?” replied the queen.

  “Sorry,” Ard said. “I was talking to the dragon in my head.”

  Queen Abeth peered at him through squinted eyes. “What the blazes are you talking about?”

  Ard gestured to the council table. “Why don’t you come in and find out.”

  From the hallway, Ard heard the voice of a Regulator chief. “Your Majesty, I must discourage you from entering the chamber.”

  “The doorway is sealed.” She reached out to touch it.

  Still concealed from view inside her Shadow cloud, Evetherey spoke aloud. “Step forward, Queen.”

  The timbre of her voice sent a visible tremble through Abeth Agaul.

  “Your Majesty, please,” counseled the Regulator in the hallway. But Abeth sucked in a deep breath as Ard moved out of her way. In what was sure to be called a leap of faith, Queen Abeth stepped forward.

  Ard watched the Barrier wall part around the woman’s leg first, and then her torso as she moved forward. The Drothan gatekeeper masterfully kept the rest of the Barrier intact, resealing over Abeth’s outline the moment she had passed through.

  Clearly puzzled by the behavior of the Grit, Queen Abeth turned back, gesturing for the council members to follow. One by one, they came through, the queen introducing them as they staggered through the transparent Barrier in amazement.

  “Lord Owers and Lady Volen, representing Espar.” The former was a short man with dark skin and a glittering diamond earring. The second was a pale young woman who looked to be just out of her teens.

  “Lord Kinter of Dronodan.” He was tall, his bald head slightly lumpy. “Lady Heel”—with a notic
eable lazy eye—“and Lord Ment of Strind.” He was a feeble old man whose name rang a bell. Likely a cousin to the late queen dowager, Fabra Ment.

  “And from Talumon, Lady Werner and Lord Blindle.” The woman was well dressed, while the man wore mostly black, doing no favors to his harsh frown under a large beak of a nose.

  Ard offered a polite bow, reaching past Blindle to swing the door shut for privacy. He felt the air of self-importance that instantly bloated the room as the noble council took seats around the table. After seeing Evetherey, Ard realized that there was nothing noble about this group. In fact, these were the same people who had decided not to authorize any kind of rescue when Ard had been doomed to die on Ra Ennoth.

  Well, they looked even less impressed with him now. “A pleasure to meet you all,” Ard said. “My name is Ardor Benn—”

  “Stow it, ruse artist.” Lord Owers seated himself beside Quarrah with a hrumph. “Your time is up. If anyone here opposes the swift execution of this man at sunrise, let them speak now.”

  “I object.” The voice was Raek’s, his Shadow cloud slowly dispersing, making it seem as if he were shimmering into view from another plane of existence. “Why does the execution have to be swift?”

  The room erupted into fear as Raek stood slowly, red eyes shining. Lord Kinter drew a Singler, but a gesture from Raek sent it spiraling out of his hand.

  “So you’re working with them now?” the queen asked, her voice tight.

  “This?” Ard pointed at his partner. “Sparks, no! This isn’t one of Garifus Floc’s goons. It’s just Raek! He’s not one of them.”

  “Sure looks like one,” said Lord Kinter.

  “Yes, he’s a Glassmind,” Ard explained. “But I hit him over the head with a pipe. He’s on our side now.”

  Raek nodded. “That’s how it works, kids.”

  “And he’s not our only visitor this evening.” Ard gestured to the Shadow cloud in the corner. “Everyone try to remain calm.”