The Last of the Ageless (17 page)

He felt naked, going toward danger with no weapon in hand as the big voice boomed once more, “The Prophet became irrelevant the day of the Catastrophe.”

When Soledad reached a corner of the cabin, she crept around the side, poking her head between the logs and the next corner tree.

“But his Mandate stands, Zen.”

Korreth heard Soledad gasp. He peeked around the other side of the tree to see a shaggy-haired old man standing between the cabin and what Korreth could only describe as a giant. His head and arms were covered in shiny metal, and his eyes glowed a demonic red.

Despite his bent back, the old man’s voice sounded strong as he said, “We
agreed to split up the technology and keep it safe until his final prophecy might come to pass. That humans might one day be—”

“No.” Zen raised one shiny finger. “As far as I’m concerned, humankind will
never
deserve to hold that much power in their hands ever again. They killed my sister!”

Korreth wanted to raise his hands to cover his ears, but the giant would probably detect any quick movement near the cabin, since he faced directly toward them.

“From what I heard, your sister died because she defied the Prophet’s Mandate and shared her technology—”

Zen let out a roar and reached forward with one arm to lift Cerrit high.

“How dare you say that!” The giant shook Cerrit like a rag doll. Even from this distance, Korreth heard bones snap.

With the light of the morning sun behind them, Korreth had trouble making out their features, but he thought he saw the old man’s hair turn a light brown.

The Ageless spat, “And now you too commit blasphemy against the Prophet and against our own kind. You abuse the technology he assigned to you.”

“Then let’s see how well
you’ve
used your technology.” With Cerrit in one hand, Zen made his way toward the cabin.

Soledad grabbed Korreth’s arm, pulling him back. The three of them shrank out of view, flattening themselves side by side against the cabin’s outer wall. He tried not to run his hands along the rough wooden wall. Giant feet pounded on a staircase, and Korreth listened to the thumping around upstairs for a few minutes.

“Mistress,” he whispered.

“They’re coming back out,” she warned. “As soon as their backs are turned, we go in.”

“Are you—” Jorrim started, but Soledad had already taken up her position by the corner tree again. She beckoned them closer as the giant burst from the cabin with Cerrit slung over his shoulder.

Korreth thought his heart would stop as he followed Soledad around the corner. She pushed into the cabin while the giant’s back was turned.

Once inside, Korreth and Jorrim took up positions on either side of the door. Korreth glanced around to ensure they were in fact alone, but he didn’t check to see what Soledad was doing. His eyes were glued to the scene outside. The giant pushed Cerrit off his shoulder, and the Ageless landed heavily on the ground.

“Take this,” the giant held a gun out to Cerrit. Once the Ageless rose to his feet and grabbed the weapon, Zen continued, “If you won’t join me, then use your precious technology. Let’s pit my cybernetics against your advanced weaponry.”

As the now brown-haired Ageless faced his enemy, Korreth marveled at the metal plates the giant wore to protect himself. Zen’s flesh only showed on his joints, his face, and his neck. The smaller man still stood a chance of killing him.

Korreth suppressed a groan when Cerrit tossed the weapon into the bushes. “I refuse to misuse my technology as you’ve clearly done with yours, Zen.”

“That’s fine,” the giant said, his human mouth twitching up into a smirk. “I don’t need you or your technology for what I plan. It’s too bad you won’t live to see what a world under Ageless rule looks like.”

Cerrit punched him in the gut. He shook his hand as Zen laughed at his pain. “You can thank Henka for sharing her technology with me.”

Zen pulled open his shirt to show just how much metal covered his body. Cerrit let out a cry and began striking the giant everywhere he could, even between his legs, to no effect. The giant scooped Cerrit up in one hand again. Before the Ageless could yell or plead, Zen’s other hand covered his head.

With a twist, Zen pulled both hands apart. Cerrit’s head ripped from his shoulders. Blood sprayed across the field in an arc.

For a moment, the giant stood silhouetted in the morning sun with his hands outstretched. Then he dropped both pieces of the body to the ground.

Korreth shrank back into the shadows of the cabin and took a deep, shuddering breath. His mind whirled. He simultaneously wanted to run as far away as he could, and to find a place somewhere deep within the cabin to cower. He’d faced plenty of Changelings in the past, but never one this intimidating.

A shout went up outside, and despite himself, Korreth peeked around the doorway once more. A short man with a bald head raced across the field and picked up the gun Cerrit had tossed aside. He raised the weapon and fired.

The projectile bounced off the giant’s metal shoulder.

Both figures stared at each other.

“Your master deserved to die,” the giant said. “He was a fool for not keeping the knowledge alive.”

He scooped up the much smaller man, and Korreth ducked back behind the door frame. He didn’t want to see anyone else suffer the same fate as Cerrit. He waited for the horrible sound of bones grinding and popping, of flesh tearing.

Zen’s voice gentled. “Tell me of any other caches of technology you know of, and I will let you live. Any other Ancient artifacts or magic, too.”

“Why would I help you, monster?”

“I just told you why. Don’t you want to see your family again? Or would you prefer their last memory of you to be of your mangled body lying next to Cerrit’s headless one?”

Don’t send him north,
Korreth thought, his eyes squeezed shut. He couldn’t imagine Zen would be interested in the few Ancient artifacts the people of Zhouri possessed, but that might not stop him from tearing apart Korreth’s village to be sure.

“East of here,” the Purebreed whimpered. “They have some kind of machine to make clothing. We trade with them.”

“Good,” Zen droned. “What else?”

“Another place southeast of here has something with wheels... They ride on it. It can go almost as fast as a horse. I f-forget what they call it.”

Korreth wanted to peek during the silence that followed, but he stayed back. He wondered if Zen was deciding whether to spare the man. “Anything else? How about Changelings who can alter their appearance, their age? Like Cerrit.”

“We never knew Cerrit could do that.” The man sounded crestfallen but rushed to continue, “But yes, we’ve all heard of the man at Mapleton. He’s a special Changeling. Heals people. Changes ages. And I’ve heard of a wizard who lives in a magic house far from here, across the drylands. Please don’t—”

Korreth heard a body fall through the grasses and tumble across the ground.

“Take these,” Soledad whispered from behind them. In the darkness of the cabin, she handed each of them a sack. “Now run.”

Against his will, Korreth burst from his hiding place and out of the cabin as Zen came their way.

The giant spotted them. “Purebreeds. Always feasting on the corpses of their betters.”

Soledad led the way, sprinting around the corner of the cabin back toward the west. Jorrim kept up their pace. Korreth followed, unable to stop running even if he wanted to. Glancing over his shoulder, he didn’t.

“Run while you can, Purebreeds.” Zen’s booming voice followed them across the grasses. “One day the Ageless will put you in your place.”

Chapter 8

Dalan soared on the updrafts, following Saquey. The dragonfly had shown him an image of a pool of water in the sparsely vegetated tundra between the grasslands and drylands. As Saquey dove toward the oasis, Dalan circled the treetops once, scanning the area before ducking beneath the canopy.

Still on the alert, Dalan discovered a place where the undergrowth had been matted down and pulled over, as if to hide something. Hand and knee prints marred the edge of the pool, but Dalan appeared to have his privacy.

He recognized most of the trees as kinds he’d grown up with in his forest, but he’d only seen willow trees during a lesson on mutation. The Omdecu Tribe’s primary goal, to preserve dying breeds of animals, also required an understanding of what they ate—plant or otherwise.

Something darted out from the undergrowth. His talons pierced the small lizard’s neck before Dalan could form a conscious thought. He ripped into the meat, satiating the hawk’s desire for prey as well as his own need to regain his strength for the long flight home tomorrow.

Listening to Saquey’s wings flutter in the undergrowth not far away, Dalan contented himself with the knowledge that when he returned home, the elders would name him an adult.

Dalan ruffled his feathers and drank from the pool until his small belly bulged. Though it wasn’t dark yet, he perched on one of the cottonwoods and slept. Throughout the night, he came awake several times to the unfamiliar sounds of animals finding their way to the oasis.

At dawn he gazed upon the still waters of the pool. Remaining in his hawk meld would save him energy for the journey ahead, but Dalan couldn’t resist the allure of the water and longed for a cool bath. He reached out mentally to Saquey and imagined people seeing him naked and alone, vulnerable.

Without waiting for the dragonfly to acknowledge, Dalan swooped to the pool, his feathers reabsorbed before his talons touched the moist earth. Back in birth form, he shed his clothing and filled his canteens before plunging in. He dunked his head underwater and enjoyed the silence. The peace made the pain of an extra transmeld worthwhile. When his face crested the surface, something tugged at his neck and came to rest on his chest.

It’s about time,
the voice said.

Dalan scrubbed his scalp to get rid of the drylands sand.

You can’t ignore me forever.

“Could stay transmelded…” he said before he could stop himself.

What can I do to prove my intentions?

“That’s simple. Let me take you off.”

I can’t do that, unfortunately. But I do have some information you might be interested in. One of my other pieces tells me that your Joey friend may be in trouble.

“What do you mean?”

It would appear a raiding party is making its way toward the ravine she still travels through.

The ground dropped from under Dalan’s feet, and he sank back into the water. He’d tried to save Nyr to fulfill the trials, but he should have let her die. Then he’d pulled that rock off Ti’rros for the trials. If
she
died…

He shook his head. It was selfish of him to think that way.

Nyr says she thinks they’ll kill the Joey.

At the mention of her name, a glimmer flashed in Dalan’s mind like a memory. He stood at the top of the ravine, watching the Joey below. A dust cloud rose on the horizon.

He shook his head, sending water flying. “Anything else?”

They’re getting closer.

Dalan rose, the water heavy as though it wanted to suck him back in. He struggled to pull his clothing over soaked skin, and hoped the extra moisture might ward off the dehydration of his next transmeld. When he slung the pack across his shoulder, the offerings he’d used to attract Saquey jangled inside. The dragonfly spun in a noisy circle, flashing him an image of Ti’rros. “Yes, Saquey. Am going to go help your favorite silver person. Unfortunately, will have to leave you behind.”

The thought of leaving his dragonfly behind left a hollow pit in Dalan’s stomach, but legends said the bond remained regardless of distance. They’d only bonded a few days ago, but already he couldn’t imagine losing Saquey. No one had ever described how the bond would make him feel—as though he’d found a forgotten piece of himself.

Saquey’s wings rustled, but Dalan shook his head. “Can try to catch up, but won’t slow down for you.”

With all his belongings in place, Dalan shrank back into the hawk’s body, letting out a shriek as his nerves protested the sudden transmeld. He burst from the oasis in a frenzy.

He had no choice but to leave Saquey as he hurtled toward the ravine. The voice was right; a dust cloud rose on the horizon. Without Saquey, reconnaissance fell to him, so Dalan soared over, peering through the cloud.

Figures on horseback churned up sand, and he darted in for a closer look. No elderly and no children, which suggested raiders rather than nomads. One man’s skin bore an orange tinge. Thick tentacles cascaded down another man’s back, more of a burden than a benefit. With two smaller arms below her normal ones, a dark-skinned woman carried two knives and an axe.

Dalan broke free of the cloud and dove below the lip of the ravine. As he flew over the Joey, he noticed Nyr not far behind. To his surprise, she wasn’t in cat form.

“Wait up,” she called, surprising him further. Was she trying to warn Ti’rros about the raiders?