The Thousand Deaths of Ardor Benn

  The bolt was an expensive shot, even though Barrier Grit was one of the five common Grit types. Inside the clay arrowhead, a chip of Slagstone was nestled into a measurement of glittering dust: digested shards of metal that had been dragon-fired and processed to powder.

  Ard slipped the bolt into the groove on the crossbow, fitting the nock against the string he had already pulled into place—a difficult task with chained wrists. The goons were gaining fast now. Definitely within range.

  “What’s the blast radius on this bolt?” Ard pulled the crossbow to his shoulder and sighted down the length.

  “The bolts were already on the sash when I stole it,” answered Raek. “I’m guessing it’ll be standard issue. Fifteen feet or so. You’d know these things if you bothered to keep up your Grit licenses.”

  Ard sighted down the crossbow. “Seriously? We’re riding in a stolen wagon, you’re impersonating a Reggie, we’re hauling five hundred Ashings we just swindled from a mobster … and you’re lecturing me about licensure?”

  “I’m a fan of the Grit licenses,” Raek said. “If anyone could purchase Grit whenever and wherever they wanted, the islands would be a mess of anarchy.”

  “I’m not just anybody,” Ard replied. “I’m Ardor Benn …”

  “Yeah, yeah. I got it,” Raek cut him off. “Ruse artist extraordinaire. Just shoot the blazing bolt already.”

  Ard barely had to aim, the goons were riding so close now. He leveled the crossbow and pulled the trigger. The bolt released with a twang, finding its mark at the foot of the leading horse. The clay ball shattered on impact, and the Slagstone chip sparked, igniting the powdered metallic Grit.

  The blast was nearly large enough to span the road. The discolored cloud made an instant dome, a hardened shell trapping two of the horsemen inside it. Their momentum carried them forward, striking the inside perimeter of the Barrier cloud.

  The two horses went down, throwing their riders and crumpling as though they had galloped directly into a brick wall. A third rider also collided with the outside of the barrier dome, unable to stop his horse in time to avoid the obstacle suddenly blocking the road.

  The two men within the Barrier cloud wouldn’t be going anywhere until the Grit’s effect burned out. They were trapped, as though a giant overturned bowl had suddenly enclosed them. Although the Barrier cloud seemed like it had a tangible shell, it couldn’t be moved. And this dirt road was compact, so they wouldn’t have a prayer at burrowing under the edge of the dome.

  Ard grinned at the successful shot. “Haha! That’ll buy us some time to reach the docks. Teach those goons not to mess with Ardor Benn and the Short Fuse.”

  “Come on, Ard,” Raek muttered. “You know how I feel about that name.”

  “It’s a solid name for a criminal Mixer like you.” Ard understood why Raek thought it was unfitting. Raekon Dorrel was neither short nor impatient. Several years ago, during a particularly sticky ruse, Ard had referred to his partner as the Short Fuse. It was meant as little more than a joke, but somehow, the Regulation ended up circulating it through the streets until it stuck.

  “Still don’t think that’s a respectable weapon?” Raek changed the subject, pushing the exhausted horse as they moved out of the slums.

  “I’ll leave the Grit shots to you.” Ard handed the crossbow back to the driver. “I’ll stick with lead and smoke.”

  Here, the road opened to a few grassy knolls that led right up to the cliff-like shoreline. The steep path down to the harbor was just ahead, where the Double Take was moored and waiting. Ard could see flags waving atop several ship masts, but with the high shoreline, it was impossible to see the harbor clearly.

  “Clear ride to the docks today,” Raek said. Now that he mentioned it, Ard thought the thoroughfare, usually bustling with pedestrians and the occasional cart or carriage, seemed abnormally still for a summer’s afternoon.

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” Ard muttered.

  “Now, that’s what you get for eating oysters for breakfast.”

  “I think we should stop,” Ard whispered.

  “Definitely,” Raek replied. “We wouldn’t want to outdistance those goons …” Raek was cut off as the wagon wheels hit a shallow trench across the dirt road.

  Ard saw the sparks as the wheels struck a buried piece of Slagstone. He didn’t even have time to grip the side of the wagon as the mine detonated.

  Drift Grit.

  A lot of it.

  The blast radius must have been at least twenty yards, the center of the detonation occurring directly beneath the wagon. The discolored air hung in a hazy dome as the Grit took effect.

  Ard felt his stomach churn as a bizarre weightlessness overtook him. The jolt from hitting the mine sent the wagon floating lazily upward, straw drifting in every direction. The horse’s hooves left the road, and the poor animal bucked and whinnied, legs continuing to gallop in the sudden weightless environment.

  “What was that?” Raek shouted. He still held the horse’s reins, though his body had drifted off the wagon bench, his long wool coattails floating around his huge form.

  “We hit a mine!” Ard answered. And the fact that it was Drift Grit didn’t give him much hope. Barrier Grit would have been an inescapable trap, but at least they would have been safe inside the detonation. Adrift as they were now, he and Raek would be easy targets to anyone with a firearm. “They were waiting for us.”

  “Remaught?” Raek asked. “Sparks, we didn’t give that guy enough credit!”

  They were probably ten feet off the ground, Ard’s legs pumping as though trying to swim through the air. He’d forgotten how disorienting and frustrating it was to hang suspended without any hint of gravity.

  Now upside down, facing west toward the harbor, Ard saw more than a dozen mounted figures cresting the steep trail and riding out to meet them. He didn’t need to see them upright to recognize the wool uniforms and helmets.

  “Remaught didn’t plant the mine,” Ard shouted to Raek. “The Regulators did it. They knew we were coming.”

  “Flames!” Raek twisted in the air to see the horsemen Ard had just announced.

  A gunshot pealed, and Ard saw the ball enter the Drift cloud. The shot went wide, exiting the detonated area just above their heads.

  “We’re sitting ducks!” Raek called, sun beating down on his bald head, dark skin glistening. “We’ve got to get our feet back on the ground.”

  Even if they could, exiting the Drift cloud now would put them face-to-face with an armed Regulation patrol. Perhaps they could flee back into the slums. Nope. From his spot hovering above the road, Ard saw four of Remaught’s goons riding toward them.

  “I thought you said this ruse was going to be low risk,” Raek said, also noticing the two groups closing on their position.

  “Did I? You’re putting words in my mouth,” Ard said. “How long until this detonation burns out?” He knew there was no way to know exactly. A standard Drift Grit blast could last up to ten minutes, depending on the quality of the bones that the dragon had digested. Raek would make a more educated guess than him.

  Raek sniffed the discolored air. “There was Prolonging Grit mixed in with that detonation,” he said. “We could be adrift for a while.”

  There was another gunshot, this one passing below their feet. Ard didn’t know which side had fired.

  “What else have you got on that sash?” Ard asked.

  “More Barrier Grit.” Raek studied his chest to take stock. “And a couple of bolts of Drift Grit.” He chuckled. Probably at the irony of being armed with the very type of detonation they were trying to escape.

  More gunshots. One of the lead balls grazed the side of the bucking horse. Blood sprayed from the wound, the red liquid forming into spherical droplets as it drifted away from the panicking animal.

  Raek drew a dagger from his belt. Using the reins to draw himself closer, he slashed through the leather straps that yoked the animal to the wagon. Placing one heavy boot aga
inst the horse’s backside, he kicked. The action sent the horse drifting one direction, and Raek the other. The horse bucked hysterically, hooves contacting the wagon and sending it careening into Raek.

  Ard caught Raek’s foot as he spiraled past, but it barely slowed the big man, tugging Ard along instead.

  Their trajectory was going to put them out of the cloud’s perimeter about thirty feet aboveground. They would plummet to the road, a crippling landing even if they didn’t manage to get shot.

  “Any thoughts on how to get out of here?” Ard shouted.

  “I think momentum is going to do that for us in a second or two!”

  They were spinning quite rapidly and the view was making Ard sick. Road. Sky. Road. Sky. He looked at Raek’s ammunition sash and made an impulsive decision. Reaching out, Ard seized one of the bolts whose clay head bore the blue marking of Barrier Grit. Ripping the bolt free, he gripped the shaft and brought the stout projectile against Raek’s chest like a stabbing knife.

  The clay arrowhead shattered, Slagstone sparking against Raek’s broad torso. The Barrier Grit detonated, throwing a new cloud around them midflight.

  The bolt contained far less Grit than the road mine, resulting in a cloud that was only a fraction of the size. Detonated midair, it formed a perfect sphere. It enveloped Ard, Raek, and the wagon, just as all three slammed against the hard Barrier perimeter. The impenetrable wall stopped their momentum, though they still floated weightlessly, pressed against the stationary Barrier.

  “You detonated on my chest?” Raek cried.

  “I needed a solid surface. You were available.”

  “What about the wagon? It was available!”

  A lead ball pinged against the invisible Barrier. Without the protective Grit cloud, the shot would have taken Ard in the neck. But nothing could pass through the perimeter of a Barrier cloud.

  “Would you look at that?” Raek muttered, glancing down.

  The Regulators had momentarily turned their attention on Remaught’s goons. Apparently, the Reggies had decided that an enemy of their enemy was not their friend.

  “We’ve got about ten minutes before our Barrier cloud closes,” Raek said.

  Ard pushed off the invisible perimeter and drifted across the protected sphere. Since Prolonging Grit had been mixed into the mine detonation, their smaller Barrier cloud would fail before the Drift cloud.

  “How do we survive this?” Raek pressed.

  “Maybe the Reggies and goons will shoot each other and we’ll have a free walk to the docks.”

  “We both know that’s not happening,” Raek said. “So we’ve got to be prepared to escape once these two clouds burn out on us.”

  “I plan to deliver you as a sacrifice,” Ard announced. “Maybe I’ll go clean. Become a Holy Isle.”

  “Right,” Raek scoffed. “But they won’t be able to call themselves ‘holy’ anymore.”

  “Just so we’re clear, this isn’t my fault,” said Ard. “Nobody could have predicted that Suno would sell out his boss.”

  “Suno?” Raek asked. “Who the blazes is Suno?”

  “Remaught’s bodyguard,” he answered. “The Trothian in need of a soak.”

  “How does he figure into this?”

  Ard had worked the entire thing out as they drifted aimlessly in the cloud. That was his thing. Raek figured weights, trajectories, detonations. Ard figured people.

  “Remaught wouldn’t have double-crossed us like this,” Ard began. “It would put too many of his goons in danger, sending them head-to-head with an armed Regulation patrol. Our ruse was solid. Remaught thought he got exactly what he wanted out of the transaction—a dirty Reggie in his pocket.

  “Suno, on the other hand, wasn’t getting what he wanted. The bodyguard recently had a kid. Must have decided to go clean—looking for a way to get off Dronodan and get his new child back to the Trothian islets. So Suno sold out Remaught for safe passage. He must have told the real Reggies that one of their own was meeting with his mob boss. Only, the Regulators checked their staffing, saw that everyone was accounted for, and determined …”

  “That I was a fake.” Raek finished the sentence.

  Ard nodded. “And if you weren’t an actual Reggie, then you wouldn’t be heading back to the outpost. You’d be headed off the island as quickly as possible. Hence …” Ard motioned toward the patrol of Regulators just outside the Drift cloud.

  “Flames, Ard,” Raek muttered. “I wanted to wring somebody’s neck for this setup. Now you tell me it’s a brand-new dad? You know I’ve got a soft spot for babies. Can’t be leaving fatherless children scattered throughout the Greater Chain. Guess I’ll have to wring your neck instead.”

  “You already killed me once, Raek,” Ard said. “Look how that turned out.” He gestured at himself.

  Ard knew Raek didn’t really blame him for their current predicament. No more than Ard blamed Raek when one of his detonations misfired.

  Every ruse presented a series of variables. It was Ard’s job to control as many as possible, but sometimes things fell into the mix that Ard had no way of foreseeing. Ard couldn’t have known that Suno would be the bodyguard present at the transaction. And even if he had known, he couldn’t have predicted that Suno would turn against his boss.

  Maybe it was time to close shop if they survived the day. Maybe seven years of successful rusing was more than he could ask for.

  “There’s no way we’re walking out of this one, Ard,” said Raek.

  “Oh, come on,” Ard answered. “We’ve been in worse situations before. Remember the Garin ruse, two years back? Nobody thought we could stay underwater that long.”

  “If I remember correctly, that wasn’t really our choice. Someone was holding us underwater. Anyway, I said we aren’t walking out of this one.” Raek emphasized the word, gesturing down below. Their Drift cloud was surrounded. Goons on one side, Reggies on the other. But Raek had a conniving look on his face. “Take off your belt.”

  Ard tilted his head in question. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, on account of us being in a Drift cloud and all. Unless your plan is to give the boys below a Moon Passing. You see, this belt happens to be the only thing currently holding up my trousers. Take it off, and my pants might just drift right off my hips. You know I’ve lost weight over this job, Raek.”

  “Oh really?” Raek scoffed. “And how much do you think you weigh?”

  Ard scratched behind his ear. “Not a panweight over one sixty-five.”

  “Ha!” Raek replied. “Maybe back on Pekal. When you were with Tanalin.”

  “Do you have to bring her up right now?” Ard said. “These might be my final moments, Raek.”

  “Would you rather think about me in your final moments?” Raek asked.

  “Ah! Homeland, no!” cried Ard. “I’d rather think about cream-filled pastries.”

  “Like the ones you used to eat whenever we came ashore from Pekal … with Tanalin.”

  “Raek!”

  The big man chuckled. “Well, Ard, you’re not usually the type to let go of things.” He let out a fake cough, saying Tanalin’s name at the same time. “But I have to say, you’ve really let yourself go. You’re a hundred and seventy-eight panweights. Pushing closer to one eighty with every raspberry tart.”

  Raek had a gift for that. The man could size up a person, or heft an object and tell you exactly how much it weighed. Useful skill for a detonation Mixer.

  “Still less than you,” Ard muttered.

  “Actually, given our current gravity-free surrounding, we both weigh exactly the same—nothing.”

  Ard rolled his eyes. “And you wonder why you don’t have any friends.”

  “Don’t mock the science,” said Raek. “It’s about to save our skins. Now give me your blazing belt!”

  Ard had no idea what the man was planning, but nearly two decades of friendship had taught him that this was one of those moments when he should shut up and do whatever Raekon Dorrel said.

/>   In a few moments, Ard’s belt was off, a surprisingly awkward task to perform while floating with both hands shackled. A gentle toss sent the belt floating to where Raek caught it. He held the thin strap of leather between his teeth while digging inside his Reggie coat for the gun belt.

  “How many balls do you have?” Raek asked.

  Ard made a face. “I’d think someone so good at mathematics wouldn’t have to ask that question.”

  Raek sighed heavily, his developing plan obviously stifling his sense of humor. “Lead firing balls. In your Roller.”

  “Oh, right.” Ard checked the chambers. “Coincidentally, I have two.”

  “Reload.” Raek sent four cartridges drifting over to Ard, who caught them one at a time. The cartridges housed a premeasured amount of explosive Blast Grit in a thin papery material. At the top of the cartridge was the lead ball, held to the cylindrical cartridge with an adhesive.

  Ard set the first cartridge, ball downward, into an open chamber. Twisting the Roller, he used a hinged ramrod on the underside of the barrel to tamp the ball and cartridge tightly into place.

  It took him only a moment to reload, a practiced skill that couldn’t even be hindered by his shackles. When he looked up, Raek was floating sideways next to the wagon, holding Ard’s other Roller and making use of the belt he’d borrowed.

  “What kind of arts and crafts are you up to?” Ard asked, seeing his friend’s handiwork.

  Raek had taken every spare cartridge from Ard’s gun belt, a total of more than sixty rounds, and used the belt to lash them into a tight bundle. The barrel of the Roller was also tied down so the Slagstone hammer would make contact with the bundle of cartridges. The whole thing looked ridiculous. Not to mention incredibly dangerous.

  “Our Barrier cloud is going to close any second,” Raek said. “I’ll get everything in position.” He shut his eyes the way he often did when required to do complicated mathematics under stressful circumstances. “You should probably get the safe box.”

  Ard felt a sudden jolt of panic, remembering the whole purpose of the ruse. Glancing down, he was relieved to see that their stolen prize was still floating within the confines of their Barrier cloud, not adrift and unprotected like the poor horse.