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?”

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.

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 shake me. Some might find strength in numbers, but I find it in the sharp collection of my thoughts.