The Last of the Ageless (7 page)

“Maybe he was just incompetent.”

Nyr’s tone conveyed her disinterest, but Dalan wouldn’t relent. “He tackled me and was on top in an instant,” he said, carefully wording his rebuttal. “I don’t think he was incompetent.”

“Oh, I bet you’d know a good fighter from a bad one, with your level of expertise.” She threw up her hands. “What happened, then?”

“Not sure.” Dalan gave up. Her guess was as good as his, then.

Sweat bled from Dalan’s every pore, making him wish he could transmeld and fly away. He’d be home by now, surely. But the day wore on.

“What are you doing out here alone, anyway?” Nyr’s raspy voice broke the silence.

“What?”

“You did some sort of weird dragonfly dance. But why alone?”

“Could ask you the same question.” The thought had never occurred to him. Among her tribe, she wouldn’t have needed his help at all.

“You first.”

Dalan’s hackles raised. “Haven’t told you enough about my tribe already?”

She said nothing.

After a short time, the weight of the silence pressed on him. “If you must know, besides bonding, the Omdecu Tribe sent me on a mission to explore the world and solve a problem of some consequence.”

“Of course.” Nyr chuckled. “You could say I’m on a bit of a mission myself. In order to secure succession as the next clan master, I need to find plunder of some worth.”

Dalan couldn’t tell if she mocked him. Saquey buzzed by, broadcasting images of the ravine ahead again. In his mind’s eye, Dalan himself flew along the ravine, skimming nearer the walls here and there, playfully darting around and over the boulders clogging its floor.

Then the flight slowed to show a humanoid form stretched out on the canyon floor. Saquey had flown closer. Not human after all—one of the silver-skinned, mysterious aliens. The Joey’s expression contorted in all-too-human pain.

Saquey’s vision swooped around to reveal the Joey’s predicament. A large boulder rested atop his tail. Smaller rocks surrounded the creature. Dalan guessed it had tried to climb out and had dislodged the rock from the canyon wall. In the vision, the Joey’s slender silver fingers scraped at the ground near his tail, trying to dig it out.

“What is it?” Nyr said, intruding on the image and bringing Dalan back to himself.

Dalan touched his face, feeling as though his body were foreign after flying through the ravine. As soon as his view cleared, he took a few steps while gathering his thoughts. “There’s a… Joey.”

“Yes?” Nyr asked. They continued north around the ravine.

Dalan explained, “Never have seen one except in drawings…” He took a deep breath. “Is trapped in the ravine ahead with a rock across its tail. Push the rock off, and it’ll probably be fine.”

Nyr stared at him.

“What?”

She scratched her cheek. “Why would we want to?”

“Needs our help! The Teachings—”

Nyr’s interrupted. “The
Ancient
Teachings, right?”

He hesitated, wondering what she meant. “Yes…”

“But the Ancients and the Joeys didn’t get along, now did they?”

Dalan considered his words as he stepped over a small bush. “Don’t you think it’s time to move past that? It’s been centuries since the Catastrophe, and nobody really knows what—”

“No, you’re confused.
Everybody
knows what happened. They caused the Catastrophe.” The corners of her eyes crinkled as she said, “Whenever my clan comes across one of those abominations, we put them down.”

“Whether or not the aliens destroyed our world, it wasn’t this particular one. The Ancient Teachings still apply.”

“What would the Ancient Teachings have you do?”

“Should help the Joey.” This time he intentionally kept his statement short. In his opinion, they both should help, but in any case, Dalan had to. The Teachings compelled his actions.

“Nothing in there about mercy killings?”

Dalan stared at her. “The Ancients didn’t believe in killing, except under two conditions—”

“So you’ve said.” She held up a hand. “Let me try to put this another way. The Joey wouldn’t try to help you, if the situation were reversed.”

He spread his hands and broke into a jog. “Can’t know that. Can’t assume he would try to kill us, since as far as we know he’s innocent—”

“Innocent? What
insane
tribe do you belong to?
No one
is innocent, you fool. Except perhaps you!”

Nyr stopped in her tracks, and Dalan paused despite himself.

“You must have thought…” Her head tilted to the side as she regarded him. “You idiot. Do you want to know why those men chased me in the first place? They weren’t marauders.”

Without waiting for a response, she said,
“
I burned down their homes, injured their leader, and killed a few of them.”

Dalan turned away, trying to hide his shock. He ran a hand through his hair, and dust puffed out. Saquey hovered nearby, as though sensing his distress.

He heard her boot scratch across sand. “Out here, nobody else follows your Ancient Teachings, so get over it. It’s time to put that Joey out of its misery. Besides, I hear the tail meat is delicious.”

She brushed past him. Almost out of hearing distance, she muttered, “I don’t care what you have to say about him.” She spoke to the wind again.

“What have I done?”

Saquey’s huge compound eyes seemed to accuse him.

The Teachings condoned killing in defense of life or to avenge life taken. Those men were well within their rights to take vengeance on Nyr. But Dalan had gotten involved and murdered one of them himself. They’d died because Dalan believed he had all the answers—that blindly following the Teachings was enough. What a fool he’d been.

He squeezed his eyes closed. Nyr was right. He was too naïve to be out in the world. He’d assumed saving Nyr was his chance to solve a problem as the trials demanded. Dalan went cold at the thought.

He hadn’t completed the trials.

Not only that, but he’d actually prevented the Ancient Teachings from being carried out. He couldn’t imagine what the elders would command in reparation, but he had to atone for his ignorant crimes somehow.

Saquey suddenly fell silent, and Dalan opened his eyes to find the dragonfly resting on the ground in front of him. It shot up into the sky, drilled past Dalan, and headed back toward the Joey. “Yes, Saquey. Must do what I know is right.”

Dalan watched Nyr slink toward the ravine. She would kill the Joey, harvest his belongings like she’d been doing all along, and add another innocent to Dalan’s tally. She should be dead.

Would killing her make up for what he’d done?

Heart pounding, Dalan began to transmeld.

Chapter 4

Caetl pressed his open palm against the shimmering green force field separating the front room of the hut from the back. He marveled that the technology continued to function, but he’d learned not to underestimate the Wizard’s proficiency in applying Ancient knowledge.

The force field’s quiet hum sometimes helped Caetl focus, silencing the thoughts of those nearer to him, allowing him to concentrate on the network formed by the artifacts. He gripped the purple artifact hanging from his neck, hiding the pair of glowing dots in the palm of his hand.

Focusing his mind into it, through to its sister pendants, Caetl peered out of Dalan’s artifact. Almost immediately, the perspective shifted, the world growing darker. Caetl thought he saw feathers just before the view disappeared. With the connection severed, Caetl’s awareness launched abruptly back into his surroundings, his hand still on the force field. Nothing like that had happened before.

He’d been watching through Dalan’s artifact the night before as well. When the boy had raised his arms in the chaos of the fight, Caetl had noticed fur sprouting from his forearms. At the time, Caetl had wondered if Dalan secretly belonged to another clan in Nyr’s tribe. Now he wasn’t so certain.

Bracing himself against the force field, Caetl closed his eyes and focused his mind through to Nyr’s artifact. Her other necklaces partly obscured the view. Despite the long distance, he heard Nyr as clearly as if she stood beside him.

“Where’d he go?” She whirled, scanning the horizon in every direction.

The Wizard wouldn’t permit his plan for Nyr and Dalan to be disrupted by conflicting stories, so Caetl kept silent. When Nyr proceeded alone toward the ravine, Caetl opened his eyes, letting go of the connection.

Dalan had almost become some furred creature the night before, and today he’d flown off as a bird before Nyr noticed. The boy wasn’t from one of Nyr’s sister clans; no, he was a far more powerful Changeling. This would explain why the Wizard had persuaded Nyr to give one of the artifacts to Dalan.

The force field created a barrier across the doorway, and without any other doors or windows, the back room transformed into the perfect holding cell. Caetl exhaled his frustration and stared through the force field at the unconscious man on the other side. Most of the time, Caetl could tap sleeping people’s minds, but trying to access Gryid’s thoughts felt like punching a wall. He couldn’t tell the Wizard, or he might realize Caetl often had trouble tapping his mind as well.

Natural light spilled over Caetl and he turned toward the exterior door to find the Changeling named Azaiah framed in the light, his tail twining in the air. Well-muscled and unwilling to question his master, the man represented the Wizard’s perfect follower. His hairless head, two sets of eyes, and prehensile tail made him intimidating to Purebreeds and other Changelings alike.

Caetl straightened. He’d disliked the man the moment he’d first met him. Azaiah glanced around the room and nodded toward the side doorway, which led to the hut’s only bedroom. Caetl nodded back to confirm the Wizard remained in his room.

Azaiah shuffled past several tables stacked with mechanical pieces and tools to join Caetl by the force field across the doorway. “Is the prisoner’s mind still silent to you, mystic?” Azaiah asked, putting a hand to his broad, tanned jawline in feigned concern.

Caetl stepped away from the force field and said, “Yes.” His opaque hand print disappeared, and the spot turned translucent again. “But I may know a way to change that.”

As Azaiah gazed in at Gryid, his other two hazel eyes blinked from the back of his head at Caetl. “How?”

“He’s wearing an artifact too, there, around his belt.” Caetl pointed, wondering why Nyr hadn’t taken it when she’d stolen the others from Gryid’s hut. A black cord looped around Gryid’s belt, its purple pendant dangling above the floor.

“And? How would that help?” Azaiah’s tone grated on Caetl’s nerves.

Azaiah considered Caetl a threat to his position as the most favored of the Wizard’s followers. A mystic’s mysterious mental powers might be enough to intimidate most other Changelings, but Azaiah knew retaliation on Caetl’s part would displease their master. So they kept an uneasy truce.

“Perhaps putting it on him would give me the extra leverage I need to awaken his mind.”

Azaiah’s tail snapped in the air. “You’re a pathetic mystic if you can’t see inside an unconscious man’s mind.” He raised his tan hand and peered under it through the force field, as though it were a dingy window.

“It’s not that I can’t, it’s that there’s nothing there,” Caetl said as patiently as he could manage. Non-mystics often misunderstood his powers. “Not even dreams. With the artifact, I might be able to prod him and wake him up.”

Azaiah’s tail danced with agitation, but before he could say anything, a muffled thump came from the Wizard’s bedroom.

“I understand that, Nyr. Give the Joey the final sliver,” the Wizard’s voice carried, “if that’s what it takes to keep Dalan compliant.”

Azaiah raised his voice to match. “Why wouldn’t you give this information to our master?”

Caetl shook his head. He didn’t need to tap Azaiah’s mind to know he was up to his usual tricks. “I wasn’t hiding it…”

“We took Gryid from Mapleton three days ago, and you’re saying you just noticed the necklace?”

“I only just now realized how I might—”

“You’re an idiot for keeping this from our master, and I’m going to tell him as soon as he comes out,” Azaiah declared loudly.

As though summoned, the Wizard pulled aside the carpet serving as the door to his bedroom. His expression didn’t bode well for either of them. He crossed his arms, his brown eyes fixed on Azaiah. Caetl wondered which of the three of them might prove himself the most powerful Changeling, if it came to that.

“What seems to be the matter here?” The Wizard clenched the pink, globular amplifier in one hand.

Without wearing one of the purple artifacts, the amplifier allowed the Wizard access to the wearers’ minds, using Caetl’s mystic powers. The Wizard’s mind slammed shut whenever he mentally connected to it, preventing Caetl from tapping him, a constraint of his mystic abilities Caetl would prefer the Wizard never learned.