The Last of the Ageless (30 page)

Dalan felt along the bond he imagined as being tied inside his mind and sent Saquey a mental image of Nyr and Ti’rros. He got no response. The bond should exist no matter the distance, but perhaps the open air made a difference. Dalan hoped so, anyway. He would never forgive himself if Saquey had managed to escape, only to be shot down.

“Tell me more about these Ancient buildings,” Dalan said, breaking the silence. The younger Purebreeds standing to either side of him flinched.

Abrajay spoke up. “They were built by the Ancients. What’s there to tell?”

Dalan wondered if they’d agreed none of the others would talk to the dangerous Changeling. They must all be Purebreeds. “How did your tribe end up here? Doesn’t seem very defensible.”

“I thought you came here to trade?”

“Is just an observation. While trading, we’d want to know our exchanges were secure.” Dalan tried to sound more confident than he felt.

The man didn’t reply. Dalan’s frustration welled up. The necklace wouldn’t answer him, Saquey wouldn’t answer him, and now even his captors were silent. So he went silent, too. After a few minutes, he found himself starting to nod off, the flickering candlelight hypnotizing him.

The outer door clanked, startling him out of his dozing. One of the young men and the woman holding the Ancient gun jerked their weapons toward Dalan. Maybe they’d been nodding off too.

A tall, pale woman entered the room alone, stepping between the two soldiers with the Ancient guns. Dalan couldn’t be sure by the candlelight, but her hair was either white or a very light blond, both of which were rare.

The Advisor held her posture rigid as she acknowledged each of Dalan’s captors, nodding to Abrajay last. When her eyes met Dalan’s, she seemed to look through him, into his past, into his mind.

Trust nothing she says,
the necklace suddenly whispered. He longed to ask it where it had been, but didn’t want to confuse his captors.

“You must be Dalan, the Changeling.” The skin around her eyes and forehead crinkled, a strange sight.

Dalan nodded. “Of the Omdecu Tribe. You must be the Advisor, also a Changeling.” He concentrated on his wording, trying to be as clear as possible.

She bowed her head and clasped her hands. One of the young men hurried to get her another of the strange chairs. He dragged it across the room and set it behind her, opposite Dalan and far from his immediate reach. The Advisor settled back onto the pillar, her eyes closing briefly.

Dalan briefly entertained the thought of striking out. But he’d seen nothing to make him think these people deserved violence. The necklace seemed to be wrong in its assessment.

The Advisor opened her eyes, her expression thoughtful. “I suppose you’ve never seen Ancient accommodations before.”

“These structures are fascinating.” Dalan wondered what hand signal he missed when the Advisor’s eyes flicked to the man behind him.

She inhaled. “Indeed. The Ancients were powerful people. Too powerful, of course; that was their downfall.”

Unsure where the conversation would go, Dalan answered, “Some say it was the Joeys’ fault.”

“Some would say that. But they would be wrong.”

Dalan narrowed his eyes, wondering what to make of her. She hadn’t captured him to talk history. What was really going on here?

“I hope you’ll forgive my welcoming party. We couldn’t be sure of your motivations in coming here.” She paused, clearly prompting him.

Dalan raised his chin and tried to recover some of his earlier bravado. “Came to see if what we’d heard about you was true. Your man here says you advise the… governor on illustrious matters, such as how to harvest the grains in the fields.”

The Advisor chuckled without smiling. No mirth shone in her eyes. Dalan knew then that she considered him an enemy. “Quite so. My great age has fortunately bestowed upon me not just its burden but also its wisdom.”

Dalan cocked his head to the side, studying her. The necklace had said she held these people in thrall with beauty. “Surely your form changes, Ageless.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You play a dangerous game. My only Changeling power is my long lifespan.”

Perhaps pretending to be one age for so long had frozen her in time. Or maybe she wasn’t Ageless like Soledad—surviving to an old age was so rare her people might revere the Advisor for that kind of beauty.

The Advisor ran a hand down her long hair and dragged it over her shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me about your master, Zen?”

Dalan smiled. “So you
have
been talking to the other Ageless woman.”

The Advisor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Told your friend we have no idea who this Zen is. Or Gryid for that matter. She mentioned him as well.”

The woman rose from her perch, her form-fitting clothes uncomfortably calling attention to her curves, despite her age. She slinked toward him, and from the corner of his eye, Dalan saw a soldier’s hand tightening on his cudgel, ready to react. Dalan held the Advisor’s gaze. Her hand slowly moved toward his chest.

The Advisor’s eyes dropped to the necklace, which she lifted for closer inspection. “She told me of the dots glowing inside the talisman. Do you know what they’re for?”

Her eyes met his, and Dalan found it hard to speak. “No.”

“Tell me what you know of this talisman.” She spoke faster, making him realize she might be as nervous around him as her underlings.

“Not much to say. One of my companions gave it to me.”

She returned to her seat. “And I suppose you have no idea your master uses it to track your whereabouts.”

“Look—”

Through the Ancient walls, Dalan thought he heard something. Then came a scream. The guards looked to the Advisor.

The unmistakable sound of the door opening startled all of them. Light flooded in, followed by a cacophonous roar—an explosion.

“We’re under attack!” a voice called from the other room, “by at least ten raiders!”

Everyone’s attention turned toward the other room. Dalan didn’t stop to consider what might be happening outside. He lunged off his pillar and tackled the Advisor around the waist, driving her downward. An arrow hit the floor next to him before he could roll the Advisor on top of himself.

He wrapped an arm around her neck as she struggled. The guards converged on them.

“Nobody move,” Dalan yelled with effort, his chest compressed from the Advisor’s weight pinning him to the floor.

Everyone stopped when Dalan held up his right hand for all to see—claws slowly slid from his fingertips. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He’d never been able to control a partial transmeld with much precision, but they didn’t know that.

“Get up, Advisor,” he whispered in her ear. Together they both struggled to their feet, Dalan still brandishing his partially transmelded hand. To keep from sliding deeper into jaguar form took extreme concentration—and it hurt.

Dalan faced down weapons of every kind and glanced over his shoulder into the other room. The door remained open, making him wonder if someone had stayed behind.

Well done,
the necklace said in his mind.
Now just get her to the edge of town. Nyr and Ti’rros are on their way.

“No one gets hurt,” Dalan tried to sound reassuring. “But the Advisor comes with me.”

The Advisor nodded against his arm.

“Guards remain here. Never intend to harm your Advisor, as long as you let me leave.” Dalan stared at each of them in turn. Abrajay seethed with rage, a vein in his forehead evident even in the dim candlelight. His eyes darted between Dalan and his hostage, alternating between impotent fury and impotent concern.

Dalan inched into the other room, his hand on the Advisor’s elbow. “No harm will come to her, if you stay back.”

They sidestepped their way to the doorway, with the Advisor always between Dalan and his former captors. He peeked out the door, confirmed no one waited on the other side, and slipped outside with the old woman in tow. “Turn the lever.”

The Advisor tried, but a large chunk of debris blocked it. She kicked it aside, and the door sealed shut.

Dalan let the partial transmeld go and twisted her arm behind her. Pushing her toward the southern V-shaped building, Dalan kept a hand on her arm. He called Saquey to mind, and this time he could feel his companion acknowledge him through their mutual connection. The dragonfly drew closer, and Dalan let out a small breath in relief.

From the east, Dalan heard the sounds of fighting. He hesitated, wondering if he should make good on his escape or go toward the noise.

“You can take me with you, but call off the others,” the Advisor said. “There’s no need to hurt my people.”

He turned her to face him. “So you do care about them?”

Remember what I told you,
the necklace hissed.

In the moonlight, he decided her hair really must be white. The Advisor’s eyebrows lowered. “What an odd question. They’re my people—”

“Dalan!” a familiar voice called.

Nyr and Ti’rros approached from the opposite direction as the sounds of battle, avoiding the light of the lamppost. Saquey soared above them before circling around him, faster and faster, until he said, “Calm down, Saquey. Am fine.”

Nyr clapped a furry hand on his shoulder. A claw pricked his skin. “You idiot. Why’d you get yourself caught?”

The door Dalan had come through creaked, and Ti’rros pointed Dalan’s LEC6 in that direction.

“Stay where you are,” Dalan said when he saw Abrajay’s face peek out. “Close the door.”

“There is no time,” Ti’rros said as the door closed. She lowered the gun.

“You know that gun doesn’t work, don’t you?” The Advisor said mildly. “The charge is empty.”

Dalan shook his head. “Why didn’t you say something to your guards, then?”

“Because they would’ve done something foolish to save me, and you would’ve turned into some monstrous creature and killed them all.”

Noise from the east grew louder, and two gunshots echoed through the paths between buildings.

“That’s right,” Nyr said, her own claws unsheathed. “Now get moving.” Nyr gave the Advisor a push. “The amulet told me where to go.”

Dalan stepped in front of Nyr and said, “Go,” to the Advisor.

Take her with you, Dalan. You don’t understand the things she’s done.

“What are you—” Nyr said before tossing her hands up. “Who cares? This way, fool boy.”

Nyr stalked to the south as the Advisor ran toward the sounds of battle. Ti’rros waited for him, and Dalan fell into step beside the Joey. Nyr led them toward the middle of the V-shaped building.

“No,” he yelled over the din of people screaming. “Need to get out of here.”

Now, Dalan, she came here to rescue you. Surely she deserves her plunder.

Dalan growled and partially transmelded into the jaguar again, his anger bubbling unchecked. He consciously took control of the meld, causing his clothes—and the necklace—to absorb into his body. He grew in fur, but kept his bipedal form. Saquey circled him as though still elated.

Nyr’s eyes widened. “Fine.” She led the way past the gray buildings, skirting the V-shaped building. When they got to the wall Dalan had scaled earlier, two of the teenagers who’d captured Saquey lay in a heap at its base.

Dalan stared at the slashes across their throats in dismay.

Ti’rros shoved his shoulder from behind, and together they ran alongside the wall until they reached a low spot. With her powerful legs, Ti’rros easily vaulted the wall. Nyr scrambled over, and Dalan followed. With the extra muscle mass of the jaguar, he landed ungracefully, catching himself heavily on one wrist.

When he looked back at the town, he noticed smoke rising from one of the colorful buildings. Saquey buzzed overhead, and Dalan followed Nyr and Ti’rros away from Searchtown.

An arrow almost as tall as the grass pierced the ground beside him.

“Get down!” Nyr screamed.

Dalan dove into the grasses. Adrenaline pumping, his hold on the partial transmeld slipped, and he felt his bones grinding into place. He let out a roar of pain, falling to all fours. More arrows sliced through the grass around them, and Nyr growled in pain as one slashed her arm. Saquey whirled around and away.

“We must get farther from the tower,” Ti’rros said. She crawled through the grasses on hand and knee, her curved tail balancing her.

Saquey showed Dalan an image of two archers in the tower distracted by the scene below. One of them fired down into the chaos, her brow furrowed in concentration. A shout went up behind them as a handful of Purebreeds followed Dalan, Nyr, and Ti’rros on foot through the grasses.

His loping stride made it easy to keep up with his companions’ ungainly crawl. A gun belched, and something slammed into the ground beside them.

Dalan’s tail swished in agitation; he couldn’t let them catch up. He sprinted at an angle to the Purebreeds, drawing off a few of their missiles as they tried to hit him broadside. He dashed through untrampled grasses and zigzagged toward them.