The Last of the Ageless

by Traci Loudin

  As she closed the door, Korreth found himself breathing a sigh of relief. He’d feared the loss of her furs might reveal her Changeling traits, but she appeared every inch the normal Purebreed their hosts expected.

  Soledad grabbed Jorrim’s hand, then crossed the short distance to Korreth and snatched his hand as well. Korreth expected she would command the two men to hold hands, completing a circle for some strange spell. Instead, she gazed up at them and, in a voice barely above a whisper, asked, “You’re free of your chains for the first time in… what, years?”

  Jorrim nodded, staring at her. Korreth broke her gaze, studying the small hand held loosely in his dark, callused one. If Jorrim’s skin color was the light end of the spectrum and his the dark, then Soledad was perfectly poised between. He blinked, wondering if she’d ensorcelled them.

  Soledad continued, “You may be free of your chains, but your bond to me goes deeper. Remember this. Be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

  She released their hands and backed away, the beads in her mangy hair rattling against one another. Before she could reach the door, Jorrim murmured, “Those people think we’re of your tribe. Which made me wonder. Where is your tribe? What happened to them? What would cause you to choose two Purebreeds for protection?”

  The girl stared at the two of them, her dark eyes darting between them. Korreth wanted to punch Jorrim for provoking her while they were in hostile territory.

  In her desert shoes, Soledad padded across the room to whisper, “That’s a story for another time. Suffice to say, someone’s been killing my kind, picking us off one by one. There’s not many of us left now. Ask me nothing else until we’re gone from this village.”

  The command wrapped around Korreth, making his chest tight. Soledad opened the door with a flourish, revealing three women standing close enough for eavesdropping.

  “Thank you, ladies, for your most generous gifts.” Soledad’s voice was loud in the small room. “I only wish the meat we provided could offset the labor to make such fine clothing.”

  A girl of an age with Soledad narrowed her eyes. “If you like them so much, why ain’t you wearing them?”

  “I will use them soon enough, don’t you worry!” Soledad replied, her voice still overly sweet. “You are so generous to we unfortunate travelers. If you have need of my old furs, please consider them my unworthy gift to your community.”

  “Your words are kind.” Despite her tone, the woman’s eyes lingered on Soledad’s clothing. Korreth hoped Soledad hadn’t offended them and wondered where she’d gotten the other clothes. Surely she hadn’t worn another layer beneath the furs.

  The third lady recovered more readily. “Would you like to sup with us? Then we can see about getting you settled in for the night.”

  Soledad poured on the gratitude for another moment, and then gestured at Korreth and Jorrim. They stepped forward as one. Jorrim paused, causing Korreth to instinctively stop as well. Korreth grinned and gestured for him to go first.

  Outside, Korreth noticed most of the villagers had disappeared to their own small one-story houses for dinner. Their quiet voices carried past glowing windows, but the atmosphere seemed subdued, as though they expected something worse to happen next.

  Soledad, Korreth, and Jorrim joined a few curious villagers in a large building and followed them into the common room to eat. Verra prepared steaming plates of food, and other men and women distributed them among their three guests and the other villagers. Korreth’s heart went out to these unfortunate people, who had clearly suffered some calamity, yet still invited strangers in from the cool drylands night to share the warmth and company.

  Lor sat in a corner, his large brows casting shadows over his eyes in the poor lighting. Korreth shifted from foot to foot, disliking the close quarters. If any of the villagers considered them a danger to the community, they might not leave town alive. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight.

  Soledad took her plate and said, “We noticed several buildings were burnt to the ground. Recently, from the looks of it. What happened here? Were they looking for something?”

  Jorrim shook his head and tapped on Korreth’s forearm. We’re in trouble now.

  Korreth regarded Soledad’s features: nonthreatening, but young enough to speak brashly and get away with it. She looked roughly the age of the teenagers. One of them held her eyes and said, “It wasn’t something. It was someone.”

  Farlen glared at him until the boy looked away.

  Soledad ignored Farlen. “A kidnapping?” The note of surprise in her voice seemed feigned to Korreth. Perhaps he was getting to know her duplicitous nature better than he thought.

  “Yes,” the boy said, earning more angry glances from others throughout the room.

  Korreth dug into some steamed vegetables, savoring the greasy brown sauce.

  “Why do you want to know?” Farlen directed his question to Soledad, but he squinted at Jorrim.

  Soledad took a breath, and then cut it off sharply, as if coming to a decision about something. Korreth leaned forward, wondering what they might learn about her.

  Her quiet voice seemed mournful as she said, “Because, you see, our village was recently attacked as well. And the same thing happened. They took our clan chief, murdering everyone else.”

  Her voice broke, and then she coughed sharply and said, “We three were the only survivors.”

  Korreth barely suppressed a groan at this new tall tale. Instead, he tried to look as mournful as Soledad sounded, keeping his eyes downcast on his plate.

  “Your clan chief, you say?” Farlen asked. “Old Gryid wasn’t our chief by any means; none of us take well to bossing. But he was the nearest we had to one.”

  Lor’s rough voice broke into the conversation, though he kept his place apart from the rest of them. “Me and some of the boys went up to Rozle only a few weeks ago, not long before our own town was attacked.”

  No surprise registered on Soledad’s face. Instead, she nodded. “It sounds like they must have come straight here from Rozle.”

  Jorrim’s chewing paused at the mention of his hometown, so Korreth elbowed him, trying to get him to play along. Soledad needed to weave their familiarity with Jorrim into her tall tale somehow.

  Lor stared at the three of them. “It seems to me that bad luck tends to follow you. First your village gets destroyed, then you get yourself attacked by bandits.”

  Korreth scanned the room. If the villagers decided they were a threat, he would knock over some of the big pots of hot food to distract them and cover their escape.

  Olix shouted through the doorway, making Korreth jump. “Get some tea, would you, Tomlen?”

  Soledad ignored the undertone of Lor’s words. “I’m sorry to hear what happened. Your story is as sad as ours… More so, as we didn’t see anything except how it ended: Rozle in flames, men cutting our friends down, dragging Rollick away by his hair.”

  Korreth covered his surprise with a cough. That Soledad would not only pretend to come from Jorrim’s hometown, but also drag her friend’s memory into her story, shouldn’t have surprised him. She manipulated everyone around her; everything became fodder for her tales.

  Farlen nodded. “Any of us would have took Gryid’s place.”

  Olix smacked him in the shoulder. “Some of us did more than that, Farlen. Some of us paid with our lives!”

  Farlen glared. “Don’t I know it? Weren’t saying nobody made no sacrifices. Just that, well, I wish I coulda done more.”

  Olix sat down across from them. “We didn’t know they’d took Gryid, ‘cause we was busy chasing one of them down. For all the good it did.”

  Soledad straightened. “If there’s anything we can do—”

  Olix smoothed down his mustache. “Not looking to take in no refugees.”

  “It’s true that we’re the only ones left from Rozle.” Soledad gestured to Jorrim and Korreth. “But do we look like refugees to you?” Her voice was tinged with anger. “We
want revenge.”

  Korreth closed his eyes. Fatigue seeped through his muscles and into his bones. Soledad was a parasite, and had enslaved people before, probably many times before. She’d use them until she had no more use for them, and then move on to the next victim. She could worm her way in anywhere, even among those free of her spell.

  “…us to protect the others, you understand.” Korreth caught the tail-end of what Olix had been telling Soledad.

  Korreth cleared his throat to speak. “So…” He hesitated, feeling Jorrim’s disapproving look burning into him. “Why do you think they did it? Why did they take your clan chief?”

  Tomlen emerged from the other room with a mug in each hand. “I’ll tell you why they took Gryid. They wanted his magic.”

  He handed the mugs to Jorrim and Korreth, and some of the lukewarm liquid sloshed on to Korreth’s hand as Tomlen withdrew. “I’ll be back with yours,” he said to Soledad.

  Olix threw his empty mug at the other man. “Tomlen, you idiot. If he’d got magic, don’t you think he’d’ve used it?”

  “He did have magic,” Tomlen said. “He coulda looked any age he wanted to. He heard things on the wind.”

  “What a coincidence,” Jorrim said loudly. “Soledad here can do the same thing.” Soledad sucked in a breath, and he amended, “Not talk to the wind, but she can change age.”

  Lor rose from his chair in the corner, his eyes full of dawning understanding. Korreth stared at him in horror. Tomlen blocked the room’s only exit, but Soledad was the bigger threat. Jorrim had been cautious about avoiding their old masters’ wrath. With Soledad, apparently he couldn’t contain himself.

  “I told you!” One of the women pounded another’s arm, making her drop her spoon. “Her clothes are just like Gryid’s!”

  Korreth glanced between Soledad and Farlen. Her face revealed nothing, while Farlen’s expression filled with awe. “You’re a friend of Gryid’s?”

  Soledad clutched her hands to her lap, appearing embarrassed, unsure of what to say. Tomlen disappeared into the other room for Soledad’s mug and returned a moment later. Korreth took a long drink to cover his relief, and the smug expression fell from Jorrim’s face.

  Soledad took what Tomlen offered. “I haven’t seen Gryid in many years.” She briefly studied the mug before her expression turned resolute. “But I need to know who took him, and why.”

  Lor pushed his way past Tomlen. “You’re all fools. Gryid’s already dead.” He left the room in a huff.

  Farlen’s bushy eyebrows drew down. “But why would they have took him if they wanted him dead?”

  Olix kicked his foot toward Farlen. “Your brother would say his ‘magic’ done made him harder to kill.”

  Soledad gave each of them a steady look, and her next words were so sincere that Korreth wondered if her lies sprouted from a seed of truth. “Yes, well. Perhaps Farlen is right. Maybe our clan chiefs are alive. If so, we will get them back. One day Gryid will return to you.”

  Farlen nodded. “We can only hope. I’m willing to bet he’s done been thinking of a way to escape them. Maybe he can even help your leader Rollick escape.”

  “All we know is the man who took Gryid galloped off toward the grasslands,” Olix said, motioning toward the southwest.

  Jorrim put his mug down. “One man caused all this damage?”

  Tomlen’s eyebrows lowered, revealing the family resemblance between him and Farlen. They both had big bushy brows and dubious expressions that seemed eager to turn into frowns.

  “It weren’t no man who burned down our houses. It was a woman.”

  Korreth and Jorrim exchanged a glance. If just one woman wreaked this devastation, she must have been a Changeling.

  Farlen took over the story from there. “Others came later while we were distracted. You see, we heard Gryid yell, and we all came running. He must’ve cornered her in his house, because they fought—broke one of his legs.”

  Jorrim leaned forward. “She was a Changeling?”

  “Yes,” Farlen said. “She was powerful, with claws and reflexes like a tiger. She started the fire. And she killed everyone who tried to catch her. They was just trying to save Gryid.” He took a deep breath.

  Korreth set his mug on the table. “So she got away?”

  Tomlen spoke up as Farlen’s voice faltered. “We did our best to stop her.”

  Olix’s voice rose. “Some of us, he means to say. The cowards—” he looked pointedly at Tomlen, “—stayed to put out the fire, for all the good you can see it did. But me and Farlen and a few others done grabbed the horses and chased her off.”

  Farlen frowned at Olix before continuing. “She was on foot, but she was fast, and we was two to a horse. We chased her deeper into the drylands, and we thought we had her. But she must’ve been leading us straight into a trap. Her friend had an Ancient gun that shot lightning. Between them, Olix and I—” His lips pressed into a flat line.

  “You ran,” Jorrim finished.

  Korreth shook his head at him for disrespecting these people who had already lost so much.

  “What else could we do?” Olix stood, his face red. His utensils clattered to his plate. “What would you have did? After that, two of our friends waited until nightfall to sneak up on them, but me and Farlen knew that was a bad idea. We came back. They never did.”

  Soledad put up her hand before Jorrim could speak again. “It’s not your fault. You’re Purebreeds. What were you supposed to do against such a powerful foe?”

  She raised an eyebrow at Jorrim, and Korreth hoped he got the message to keep silent. “My spiritless friends are Purebreeds as well. They know how helpless you must have felt.”

  The slight emphasis she put on the word made Jorrim’s mouth snap closed. Neither of them knew how she might punish them for thwarting whatever she’d intended to accomplish here. Korreth hoped Jorrim would keep that in mind.

  Farlen pushed on, perhaps to keep Olix from doing anything to start a fight. “When me and Olix got back, the village was in ashes. Gryid was gone.”

  He looked at Tomlen, who then picked up the story. “When they ran off after the Changeling woman, the rest of us done what we could for Gryid in the middle of everything else. He kept aging, and sooner or later he done wound up in the age where his leg was broken. Then he pretty much went into shock.”

  Soledad looked as confused as the man sounded. Korreth tried to puzzle out what they could glean from that.

  “Gryid was always trying to heal himself,” Verra spoke up, her voice light. The other women cast narrow-eyed glances her way, their lips tight, but she continued, “You can ask the healers. I think he liked to let them practice Ancient healing techniques on him, because if they made a mistake, he could age it away. But he always said it was a waste to leave ages behind if they could be healed.”

  “Anyway,” Tomlen broke back in. “Those of us who was still alive,” he closed his eyes, “We set up a chain of folks stretching to the creek in the forest, handing buckets down the line ‘til the fires went out.”

  Korreth recalled the distance to the forest from the settlement. It must have taken them hours to put out the fires.

  “Healer been tending Gryid when somebody punched her in the face and knocked her out,” Tomlen said. “I was in the bucket line at the edge of town, so I saw them tie Gryid to a horse’s saddle and ride off. Weren’t nothing nobody could’ve done by then—these idiots had all our horses.”

  Olix stood up, his mouth twisted in a snarl. Then he turned on his heel and stalked through the doorway.

  Soledad sat back. “How many did you see? We need to know what we’re up against.”

  Tomlen shook his head. “I seen at least five.”

  Jorrim frowned. Korreth wondered if Soledad intended to track the kidnappers. The villagers’ story didn’t match what she’d told them about someone killing off the Ageless.

  Soledad’s confusion seemed genuine when she asked, “What could they possibly want? Why would th
ey do this?”

  Tomlen answered without hesitation. “I done told you—it was his magic.”

  Soledad leaned forward. “What makes you say that?”

  Tomlen glanced at Farlen before answering, as though seeking permission. “The Changeling done made off with the magic purple amulets from Gryid’s house. But one of the kidnappers—I swear I saw the exact same kind glowing around his neck.”

  After the tense dinner, the villagers brought Korreth and Jorrim back to the room they’d changed clothes in. Five teenagers Korreth hadn’t seen earlier took up positions by their doors. Jorrim snickered, eyeballing the wiry boys up and down.

  He tapped on Korreth’s shoulder. They think these kids can keep us prisoners?

  Korreth elbowed him in the ribs and jutted his chin toward the door. “Care to talk outside?” Jorrim nodded, his expression going serious.

  The boys argued amongst themselves when Korreth and Jorrim stepped onto the hard, packed earth of the path outside. Three of the teenagers trailed behind.

  “So tell me,” Korreth said, keeping his voice low. “We may not get another chance to be away from her. How did you know she was Ageless? Why do you recognize this place?”

  Jorrim glanced over his shoulder at the three teenagers who followed them and shook his head. One was the wiry boy he’d snickered at. “We should be trying to escape.”

  Korreth motioned him to be quiet. An alleyway between buildings revealed the land to the north, much less hostile than the drylands they’d spent the last two days traveling through. On a full stomach, Korreth’s strength had returned, but something told him attempting to escape now would lead to folly.

  “Too much could go wrong here.” He slowed down and tapped on Jorrim’s arm, They outnumber us.

  Jorrim glowered over his shoulder at the scrawny teenagers, who wilted under his gaze and slowed down, giving the two men more space. “I think we could outrun them.”