The Last of the Ageless (29 page)

He could try switching into his jaguar meld and scaring them off, but that ran the same risk of injuring Saquey. The teenagers had nearly reached the town, and his hawk eyes spotted multiple archers situated in the tower. If he attacked, the archers would retaliate for sure.

With a rising sense of panic, Dalan swooped over the tower, examining the town and trying to come up with a plan.

Searchtown wasn’t so much a town as a compound dominated by one giant V-shaped gray building, with the tip of the V pointing south. Black panels covered the south-facing side of its roofs. The building lacked openings, but darker gray squares broke the monotony of its smooth gray walls every dozen feet or so.

On the inside of the V stood two large buildings and about ten smaller ones, set farther back. Each of the smaller buildings divided into ten different-colored sections. Although their colors were faded, the buildings must have been in remarkably good shape to have survived the Catastrophe and the centuries afterward.

Another tower bookended the compound directly opposite the first. He circled back toward the south tower and landed on the crumbling wall.

Two older men waited in the light of one of the many lampposts lining the path as the teenagers showed off their catch. “You weren’t supposed to be out tonight. What if the Changelings had found you first, huh?”

“But this one didn’t.” One of the teenagers pushed out his chest. “We caught him before he could.”

“Very good, children, but we need to hand this one over before he or she decides to switch into a more menacing form.” Dalan’s eyes fixed on Saquey. Though they were wrong about the dragonfly being a Changeling, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t return home without Saquey.

The other elder praised them some more before saying, “It’s time we caught ourselves another Changeling, don’t you think?”

A teenager girl nodded eagerly and asked, “What did she say it was? I heard it was like a mutated horse.”

“Yes, she said that’s how it was described to her. Like a horse covered in short golden fur, but without hooves.”

“And with a long tail?”

“Not like a horse’s tail…”

They’d anticipated him, somehow. They’d set a trap, and he’d been foolish enough to fall into it without explaining anything to Nyr or Ti’rros before he darted off. Dalan glided from building to building, shadowing the teenagers as they chatted about what they’d heard from someone they called the Advisor. The way they slung the net around made him fear for Saquey’s delicate wings. He sent reassuring images of forests and ponds to his dragonfly companion, but got no response.

A pair of female voices caught Dalan’s attention. Two women stood near one of the multicolored buildings, with five distinct colors reflected in the light of a nearby lamppost.

The taller woman grabbed a vertical handle on the yellowish section of the building and turned it to the left. As she did so, the dark-gray square in the yellow wall creaked open, also sliding to the left, allowing him to see inside. The women joined other people inside the building, where Dalan caught sight of wooden tables—it was a house.

The door slid back to the right, sealing the home. With ten segments in each of the 100 multi-colored buildings he could count from his vantage point, it was the largest settlement he’d ever seen. If he hadn’t been so worried, he would have marveled at this clever Ancient design.

Below, the teenagers rounded the corner, and he followed. When they crossed to the next colorful building, he perched on the roof of one of the other houses. The eager girl turned the door lever and two others took the net inside.

They came back out without Saquey. Dalan’s heart skipped as the teenagers walked away and the door clanked shut behind them. He still sensed nothing from Saquey through their bond. He waited until he heard no voices and saw no people along the paths.

He doubted he could turn the lever as a hawk, so he paused to think. The only way the situation could be worse is if they’d also stolen his offerings—losing the sacred discs was unforgivable.

Nyr and Ti’rros wouldn’t understand the urgency of the situation, and by the time he got them to sneak into the town, it would be morning. If they had to wait until the next night to rescue Saquey, the insect might be as good as dead by then.

What would Nyr and Ti’rros do when he didn’t show up in the morning? Ti’rros would be obligated to attempt to help him. Nyr might not bother, unless the necklace cajoled her into doing so.

He needed a way to send a message to them, and with Saquey gone, his only chance was the necklace. He would learn once and for all how far its ability to communicate with its other pieces went.

That made returning to birth form mandatory; he couldn’t open the door as a hawk, and he had to warn Nyr and Ti’rros using the necklace.

He took one more look around before landing beside the door the teenagers had gone through. Little grass survived here, as though there wasn’t much dirt for it to grow on. Bags of something that smelled very sour to Dalan’s hawk nose were piled outside.

He rushed the transmeld to birth form as fast as he dared, while trying to stifle his groans of pain as he regrew an enormous amount of muscle, bone, and tissue. The world shifted, and he reached out a hand to steady himself against the building. His dry skin made the surface feel even chalkier than it probably was.

Back in his birth form, Dalan felt naked. He glanced around, regretting the loss of his sharp vision. He raised his gaze to the moon, hoping to spot the All-Seeing Eye, but the clouds made it impossible. He breathed a plea for blessings anyway. Eerie quiet pressed down on him.

Definitely a trap.

Dalan put his hand on the door lever, twisting it as he’d seen the townspeople do. He flattened himself against the outer wall of the building, which looked black to his human eyes. It clanked an inch into the building before sliding to the left with a mechanical whirring, leaving an opening big enough for a large man to pass through.

Dalan waved his hand in the open doorway and withdrew it. Nothing happened. Saquey's buzzing wings made Dalan’s heart beat faster, but he had to be cautious. Peeking around the edge, he saw an empty room, with an open doorway to the left. Any occupants must be hiding in the second room.

Dalan slid his hand down to the knife in his belt. Then in one silent motion he entered the room and fell to his knees beside Saquey.

He slashed at the net, finding it difficult to cut through. While sawing at the knot, Dalan sent Saquey a mental image of the insect flying free through the doorway. Getting no response, he also imagined the towers with archers in them, reminding Saquey to watch out. At last his knife cut through above the knot, releasing the netting. Dalan threw it open to free his companion, his friend.

The mechanical sound of the lever turning made him gasp. The door began sliding closed. Saquey zipped past him. Dalan lunged toward freedom, but the door nearly closed on his hand. His last sight of the outdoors was of Saquey fluttering into the night, high above the rooftops.

Eyes wide, Dalan peered through the yawning opening into the other room, illuminated by flickering candlelight. Hearing nothing, he crept over to the wall and put his hand out as before.

Again nothing happened.

“Necklace?” he called. He needed to get a message to Nyr and Ti’rros before something else went wrong.

At least if they did try to rescue him, the dragonfly could lead them to his location, an unfortunately centralized building. If his captors didn’t kill him, Nyr probably would, for his stupidity.

“Voice? Whatever you call yourself…”

Dalan held the knife out and peeked around the edge of the doorway. Various rugs decorated the walls of the spacious room, and tables were scattered here and there. No one waited for him.

A solitary candlestick rested on a table. By the candlelight, he saw a basin and several large blocks; two of them dwarfed him. Since the others were waist-high, he took them to be strange chairs. Some kind of grass-like material covered the floor from wall to wall.

Although he could see the entire room and its lack of occupants, Dalan kept his knife out. As he passed the strange chairs, he noticed another door on the same wall as the one he’d come through, but without a lever to open it.

He ran his fingertips along its edges, trying to see if he might be able to slide it over like a flat stone. It didn’t budge. He made his way back through the rooms, tried the same thing at the other door, and got the same result.

Back in the candlelit room, he put his hand on one of the waist-high blocks. His palm left a momentary indentation on its soft surface when he pulled away. From behind him came the unmistakable sound of the exterior door being opened, and he crouched down.

Dalan lunged toward the wall in between doorways. The one he’d been unable to open remained closed. He inched over to the open doorway and peered into the other room, dimly lit by moonlight. Then he ducked his head back—the candlelight would silhouette him.

From the other room came the sounds of footsteps shuffling across the floor and a muffled cough. Dalan tried to guess how many people had come inside. The door clanked and closed, plunging them into darkness.

Everything was silent but for the sound of someone breathing.

“Alright… Dalan, is it?” a man said, his voice raised. “We know how dangerous you are. You probably feel a little cornered, quite understandably, but I swear to you, we aren’t here to hurt you.”

“Unless, of course, you do something stupid,” a second voice said.

The first, deeper voice continued, “If you come out where we can see you and allow us to collect your weapons, no harm will come to you. The Advisor just wants to talk to you.”

Dalan gathered his thoughts. They probably thought him transmelded, and if they knew about the tail-horse, they probably knew about the jaguar.

The Ageless woman’s words came back to him.
“You spirited fools don’t even know you’re being used, do you?”

Who had warned Searchtown about them if not Soledad?

Dalan considered his options and decided that letting them take his knife might actually work to his advantage. They would feel safer if he were disarmed and human. Then when Nyr and Ti’rros showed up, he could transmeld and escape with them. Unless they never came. Unless they were captured too…

He shook his head to clear it of negative thoughts.

“Alright.” Raising his hands, Dalan stepped away from the doorway, but deeper into the candlelit room. His skin crawled, knowing the candlelight silhouetted his form.

Figures emerged from the other room. A woman carrying an Ancient gun led the way, with the muzzle of her gun trained on Dalan. Beside her, a man with another gun stepped through the doorway and swept the room.

They took up rigid stances to either side of the doorway as four more figures stepped into the candlelight. All six of them wore blotchy uniforms of a color that was unidentifiable in such dim illumination. Square hats covered their heads. Dalan imagined how he would take them down as the black jaguar. The ones with guns would need to go first.

He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, and felt guilty for even thinking it—these Purebreeds had every right to defend their territory. But why had they trapped him? And how had Soledad known Dalan and his companions would travel to Searchtown?

The two youngest men crept toward him and patted him down, taking his knife before flanking him. An archer with a quiver of arrows over his shoulder approached.

Dalan’s gaze flicked from the bow and partly nocked arrow—not very effective inside a building or at close range, he thought—to his face. He was an older man with graying hair, an oddity. And he didn’t look afraid. Dalan had been right about being disarmed.

“The name’s Abrajay. The Advisor will be joining us in a moment. For now, why don’t you have a seat?” Abrajay motioned to one of the waist-high blocks.

“What do you want?” Dalan sat down, his hands out in a nonthreatening gesture.

Abrajay’s weathered face cracked into a smirk. “So asks the intruder. What do
you
want? Why are you here?”

Dalan decided to adopt the demeanor they’d expect from a Changeling. “Wanted to meet the Advisor.” He sat up straighter and made his voice gruffer, his tone more demanding. “Tell me about her. Presumably a woman, a Changeling, who rules your people.”

He watched the older man for a reaction, but got none. The other soldiers, however, shifted weight. They came to attention, their weapons aimed true.

“Yes indeed, except the last,” Abrajay answered, unperturbed. “That’s why we call her the Advisor. She is very long-lived, and as such, has valuable information that has helped keep us from harm for decades. She advises the governor on everything from matters of state, to the best ways to plant crops, to how to deter… invaders.”

Dalan nodded as though he understood, wondering what the necklace would say. Was it possible the stupid thing slept at a time like this?

“She’ll be along to speak with you shortly. If you so much as—”

Dalan raised his hands. “I’m here as an envoy from my tribe, seeking trade.”

The man smirked, then took up position behind Dalan. They all waited uncomfortably for a span of time. Not being able to see the sky made it difficult to tell how long. Though he’d lived under a dense canopy of trees his whole life, being indoors cut him off not only from the sky, sun, and stars, but the very air itself. He wondered if his thoughts could reach Saquey without the wind to carry them.