The Last of the Ageless (22 page)

Klin stared at her, his head cocked. The lines of his face evinced his feline nature. He clapped, turning slowly in a circle, inviting the others to applaud as well. Nyr noted the reluctant ones, who didn’t follow his lead. They might come in handy as allies later. Though everyone near him clapped, Jaul’s dark hands remained on his knees. His pinched expression put Nyr on edge.

Klin’s eyes reflected the firelight. “A great story, Nyr. Well told. Of course, we do have some questions for you.” He opened his hands, as if he spoke for the entire clan.

Nyr twisted her smirk into a smile. Klin was out of touch with his people’s mood. A dangerous predicament for a leader in the Hellsworth Tribe.

“Tell us. Why didn’t you let us know there was greater plunder to be had? We would have gladly accompanied you, and surely we could have uncovered more than one measly pendant.”

She felt the fur on her back rise, but before she could retort, a sense of self-preservation swept her irritation away. She found herself bowing her head and whispering, “I’m sorry, Clan Master.”

What had possessed her to say such foolishness and apologize? The grin on his face infuriated her further. “Speak up, Nyr. What were you saying?”

“Trinket…” she muttered.

Shush, my dear. I was only trying to protect us both.

Nyr’s eyes widened before she regained control over her expression. She couldn’t let them think her weak, but what the amulet had just done… How long had it been poisoning her thoughts, making her do things she assumed were of her own accord?

Klin stuck his face in hers. “I said, speak up so the people can hear—”

Neula stepped out from the bushes, interrupting him. “Clan Master, she has two companions. One is a Joey.”

Nyr’s heart raced. She should’ve guessed Neula had been scouting.

“At least you weren’t lying about that part,” Klin said.

“I didn’t lie about any of it.” Nyr stood straighter, looking for support from her clanmates, but few of them met her gaze.

“Good. As your Clan Master, I must receive my cut of any plunder you found. So, give that to me.” He held out his hand, and Nyr snorted. If she could be rid of the trinket so easily, she might actually obey Klin’s command.

I won’t let them take you from me,
her amulet whispered.

Nyr stood and faced him. “Actually, I can’t take it off. But I haven’t tried letting someone else do it.”

As Klin approached, she considered knocking him under the jaw and back into the cookfire. He couldn’t do much fighting back if he was busy putting out the flames.

She glanced around the clan circle, gauging her clanmates’ moods. Her absence hadn’t done her any favors. She’d be lucky if even Jaul would try to help her against Klin and his supporters. So she stayed her claws. Klin’s attempts to remove her trophy would make a fool of him in front of everyone.

Klin stepped in close and raised both hands to the leather cord. As he lifted the trophy from her chest, his eyes told Nyr it was her shirt he imagined pulling up instead. She struggled to keep the snarl off her face.

The trinket’s ascent stopped at her chin, rudely interrupting his daydream. Despite having plenty of space between her head and the leather cord, it refused to go any higher, as if an invisible barrier surrounded her neck.

Klin’s teeth shone in the firelight as he tried to force the cord up one side at a time, but it wouldn’t budge. He pulled so hard the leather cut into her neck. She suppressed a smirk.

“Clan Master...” she said, restraining herself from putting a hand out to stop him—or hit him.

“What is wrong with that thing?” He released his hold.

Fool,
she thought.
He’s not worthy of our attention. Don’t let him get in our way.
Or had those been her trophy’s words? She had trouble disentangling her thoughts.

“Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just magic.” A grin escaped her self-control.

“And you say it shields you?”

She shrugged. “Only my upper torso, the area closest to it.”

Her clan master’s claws raked across her chest as he instantly transformed.

Nyr took a surprised step back. She had to give him credit—he was one of the fastest at shifting forms, not to mention changing the important parts first. Nyr touched her clothing near the trinket. A few of her clanmates gasped. Even her shirt had escaped damage.

Klin’s eyes danced with greed, a familiar look in her clanmates’ gaze. “The man whose fingers you broke spoke truly. This treasure
is
worth a tribe’s weight in gold. Imagine the enemy’s surprise when he knifes you in the chest, but nothing happens. It gives you the opening to slice his throat.”

“Clan Master,” Neula said. Nyr shook her head, trying to catch her old friend’s eye.

“What is it, Neula?”

“I saw a pendant just like hers around the Joey’s neck. The boy might have one as well.”

Nyr straightened, knowing what Klin would do next. He smiled, his incisors bright in contrast to his orange and black fur. “Lead the way, Neula.”

You can’t let these savages take them away now!
The voice protested as the rest of her clanmates gathered.

“Wait. Now?” Nyr said to the voice.

Klin assumed she’d spoken to him. “Of course now. Those shield-talismans are too important to pass up.” Klin grabbed her upper shoulder and spun her around. “Let’s go.”

He passed her, gesturing for everyone to move out. Shiv, known for his sadistic style of killing even in a tribe of killers, smiled at Nyr as he passed. His blackened teeth gave him an eerie appearance in the firelight.

The rest of the clan flowed past her, and their bloodthirsty excitement made the hairs on her forearms rise. The thought of killing outsiders, especially a Joey, wouldn’t normally bother her.

Are you doing this to me?
she wondered, palming the amulet.

Jaul laid a heavy hand on Nyr’s shoulder, startling her from her thoughts. “Glad you’re back at last.”

The purr in his voice used to make her lust after him, but tonight an unexpected dread overwhelmed everything else.

You can’t let them do this, Nyr. I need Dalan and Ti’rros.

“What for?” she whispered, hoping the noise of the other felines’ movements would cover her voice. Jaul gave her a hurt look, and then followed Klin and the rest. Nyr hadn’t meant for him to hear.

Right now, the three of you can take on anything. If we meet a K’inTesh tribe, Ti’rros can blend in with them. Dalan can change into creatures no one expects, to spy or surprise attack. You can easily be mistaken as spiritless, vulnerable, the perfect snare.

Her trophy kept rambling, but she didn’t have time to think about what its strange words meant. Something else occurred to her.

As Nyr rushed to catch up to her clan master, her pulse quickened. “The trinkets don’t come off, Klin... What’s the plan?”

He chuckled. “We’ll see what happens once we cut off their heads.”

Like a stone in the middle of a river, Nyr let the others flow around her, past her. Then she gathered her resolve and whispered, “Warn your other wearers, trinket. My clanmates will kill them both.”

Chapter 11

The next morning, Korreth stumbled out of Farlen’s hut to catch the tail-end of an argument.

“I’m going and that’s the last I want to hear of it!” The girl wrenched her wrist from Olix’s grip.

Olix said, “Tora, you didn’t see—”

“Forget it!” She stomped past Korreth.

Olix glared at Korreth as though it were his fault before he stalked back to his hut. Tora joined a cluster of people at the other edge of the tiny village. To Korreth’s surprise, Lor gestured for her to join him in making preparations.

“Load the heavy things first,” Soledad’s voice rose above the fray.

As Korreth wandered beneath the metal sphere that dominated Mapleton, Jorrim heaved a sack of medicinal supplies onto a mule tied nearby. He clapped Korreth on the shoulder. “Sleep well?”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

Jorrim chuckled, then tapped on Korreth’s shoulder,
They are fools to trust a Changeling.

Korreth had lain awake for hours thinking about what Soledad had said last night. If Zen killed him and Jorrim, no one would be left to warn their tribes about the Badlands Army.
Yes,
he tapped.
If we die…
Jorrim nodded, his thin lips turned down.

Farlen brought a sack over. “Some more food, Waylen.”

“What happened to the horses?” Korreth asked.

Farlen shook his head. “We had to eat them. We figured Waylen’s mule was too tough, though.”

“Nobody’s eating my mule.” Waylen patted the animal’s nose. It snorted and stomped. Waylen added the sack of food to the mule’s already overflowing sidesaddles.

“Give those to Waylen, too,” Soledad told another of the villagers, motioning him their way. “Have we loaded all the bandages and poultices?”

“Mira, you really don’t need to be coming with us,” Al said as his wife lifted a small crossbow.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mira nodded toward Soledad. “If she can go, so can me and Tora.”

The two women, Farlen, Tomlen, Lor, and a handful of their other clanmates gathered together to see them off. Olix stood apart with Verra, her Changeling son, and a knot of other women, children, elders, and those injured from their last run-in with the feline. Korreth took small comfort knowing Mapleton would survive even if Soledad led most of the able-bodied adults to their deaths.

“I want to go,” Verra’s son said.

“No, silly. You’re too young,” Verra’s eyes were worried, and she put a hand on his shoulder. “Goodbye,” she called to them.

“We’re gonna rescue Gryid!” Farlen pumped his fist to a round of halfhearted cheers. Korreth could see the nervousness in their eyes. These people weren’t warriors, and those armed with nothing more than knives and clubs would have to fight within range of a feline’s claws.

As they left Mapleton behind, the two sentries from yesterday sought wisdom from Soledad. Korreth learned a few things about Ancient weaponry as Soledad taught everyone how to use the guns and crossbows they’d taken from Cerrit’s cache.

“Good place for an ambush,” Korreth said to Jorrim.

The farther south they traveled, the rockier the terrain became.

His friend muttered back, “Let’s just hope we sneak up on them before they sneak up on us.”

At midday, Soledad announced, “We’re only a few miles from them now. Jorrim, hurry and scout ahead. Take Waylen’s mule, but be smart about it—as soon as you see or hear anything, dismount and leave it behind.”

“No way,” Waylen said, stepping in Jorrim’s way. But Jorrim shouldered past the malnourished villager and grabbed the mule’s reins. “I said no!” Waylen grabbed the reins as well.

Jorrim ignored him and marched forward, until Soledad said, “Wait. What’s the matter?”

“Ain’t nobody taking my mule!”

“He’s very particular about his belongings,” Farlen said under his breath.

“Fine,” Soledad said. “Then
you
take your mule and scout ahead. But don’t be stupid. The last thing we need is for you to get caught.”

Waylen glanced around nervously until Farlen shooed him away. “Go on, Waylen. We’ll be waiting to hear how many of them there is.” He tossed Waylen a chunk of bread. “Keep your strength up while you’re gone. Counting on you.”

For the rest of the day, the group milled around, taking shade under short borderland trees where they could. Waiting could kill the group’s morale, so Korreth motioned to Jorrim.

Korreth cleared his throat. “Jorrim and I have some experience working with Ancient weapons. Now would be a good time to practice, while we wait to hear from Waylen.” He didn’t tell them that his experience only pre-dated their own by a day.

A dark-haired man with a fur-lined belt nodded. With slumped shoulders, the man folded his hands over a pistol.

Korreth slung his rifle over his shoulder. “What’s your name?”

“Yven.”

“Show me how you’ll face the enemy.”

Yven held up his pistol at an awkward angle, one-handed. As tactfully as he could, Korreth showed him how best to sight along the barrel.

“We’ll outnumber and surprise them,” Korreth reassured him. “After our initial attack, you should have time to reload your weapons, but hopefully you won’t need to.” Yven smiled as he practiced loading the firearm.

Korreth went off to help a short, stocky man with a crossbow. “Now, what’s your name?”

“Ritgur. And I done used one of these before.” A haunted look clouded Ritgur’s eyes, accentuated by the dark bags beneath them.

“Let’s see your aim.”

The man concentrated on a tall cactus plant, then with bent elbows, he raised the crossbow and fired. Jorrim shook his head and began coaching his own set of villagers as Korreth demonstrated a better crossbow technique. When Jorrim approached Lor, he gestured him away.