The Last of the Ageless

by Traci Loudin

  Watching her closely, Dalan waited for the tale-tell signs of her transition to cat form, but none came. The Teachings justified killing in only two cases, and as for who could carry out vengeance against Nyr, Dalan didn’t qualify. He wasn’t a blood relative or tribemate of those men—he could do nothing for them now. But he could save the Joey’s life, and if that meant taking her down…

  Nyr’s slitted eyes wandered down to the Joey, who lay prostrate at Dalan’s feet. “I’d say you owe this one, Joey. If I’d gotten here first, you’d be joining your ancestors in the afterlife right about now.”

  Dalan sucked in a deep breath, though he wondered if the Joey could understand their language.

  Nyr dug into one of the numerous pouches at her hip. She pulled out a long black cord and raised her hand high. Another purple necklace like the one she had given Dalan dangled from the cord.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, in a smooth voice he didn’t trust at all. “Now that your newfound pet here is unstuck, I thought we could celebrate…”

  She closed the distance, but Dalan blocked her path.

  “What’s going on with these necklaces, Nyr? Why give them to us?” He hated himself for his naïveté, never questioning her motivations in giving him the necklace until now. Saquey’s wings buzzed; it hadn’t left its position on the rock.

  “Believe it or not, you Purebred fool, they’re powerful trinkets. The amulet creates a shield across your chest to protect itself from harm, which is no doubt what saved your life the other night. Would you deny your dear Joey the same protection?”

  Before he could stop her, Nyr bent down and slipped the necklace over the Joey’s head. It blazed pink before the light coalesced into four dots within its stony surface. The Joey jerked in surprise. When he tried to remove the necklace, it refused to go up any higher than his chin.

  Fear bloomed in Dalan’s chest as he grasped his own trinket and yanked it upward. He met with the same failure. Though the necklace had slipped on easily enough, the loop had tightened, now smaller than the diameter of his head. Saquey buzzed in a tight circle around him, as distressed as Dalan.

  The alien reached into his vest and took out a small knife. He gripped the handle in a fist as he tried to saw through the thong just above the pendant.

  No need to panic, the voice spoke up. Though but a whisper in his mind, the voice had a masculine quality to it.

  Dalan snapped, “Of course there is! She’s marked us as slaves!”

  Dalan’s outburst made the Joey jump, his deep blue eyes staring up at him. Saquey hovered nearby.

  Nyr lifted her chin. “It’s not my mark. Is it my voice you hear when the amulet speaks?”

  Dalan rocked back on his heels, staring at her. She associated the voice with the necklace? He examined the pendant again. Four glowing pink orbs hung inside. What kind of magical artifact was this?

  “No,” he answered slowly. “Is not your voice.” He took a step toward her and felt a tingle of satisfaction when she took a suspicious step back. “Talked to thin air that first day. Thought you were cracked.”

  He whipped his hand toward her throat.

  Predictably, she blocked and shifted, her fur growing in rapidly. But he’d seen what he needed to—underneath the layers of trophies she wore around her neck glowed a familiar necklace. Saquey zipped upward, above the upper edge of the ravine, away from them all.

  Nyr glared at him, fully melded—or as fully as her people ever came. “What—?”

  Dalan smiled. She wasn’t controlling the necklace after all. “Looks like you’re just as bound as we are.” His smile faltered when he realized the mystery remained.

  His tribemates could communicate mentally, but only while transmelded. Though unlikely, someone in birth form might catch a directed thought if they opened themselves enough, but Dalan wasn’t transmelded, nor had he been open to this intrusion.

  Nyr’s expression faded into exasperated annoyance. “I’m no one’s slave, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Good to know we’re not yours.” Dalan couldn’t stand it any longer. He grabbed one of the canteens and took a long swig. Warm water filled his mouth, but at that moment, it satisfied as well as ice water.

  “I never said you were.”

  He took two more big gulps. “So why give us these? Tell us what you know. Why does it talk? What does it want?”

  Why don’t you ask me? the voice in his mind said.

  “Don’t trust you,” he answered, and Nyr’s distant expression told him it had been talking to her as well.

  There’s no reason not to trust me, the voice said. After all, haven’t I helped and protected you, hmm? Knocking aside the knife that would have put an end to your already short life? I’ve even kept your secret. I could’ve shared it with the sliver she wears around her neck, but I’ve kept it to myself. Your power… to become so much more than she could imagine… it astounds even me.

  Dalan glanced at Nyr, knowing she must not hear the same words, as no look of surprise came over her face. “What do you want, then?”

  The strange voice chuckled in his mind. You’re asking a little necklace what it wants? What do you think, hmmm? I’ve existed for many times a human lifespan, and that gets boring fast.

  “Still doesn’t tell me what you want,” he said, raising the amulet so he could stare into its translucent, purple interior. The pink dots glowed ominously.

  I’ll be your guide, telling you all I know of the world—which is a lot, if I do say so myself. And you can help give me meaning. Without you, I’m just a lifeless object—worthless.

  Dalan closed his eyes, wondering whether Nyr’s necklace had told her the same thing. Somehow he doubted it.

  “Want more than that, don’t you? Need a host…” he mused, trying to puzzle it out, but he hadn’t found all the pieces yet.

  A terrible thought occurred to him: if the necklaces could communicate amongst themselves, he couldn’t return to his tribe. Not until he’d figured out how to remove the little spy from around his neck.

  A wave of white-hot fury crested over him, but before he could unleash his fear and anger, he heard the sand crunch behind him. He turned to see the Joey getting to his feet. Saquey followed, lapping up the sight of so much silver.

  The alien faced Nyr. Despite the situation, Dalan found himself mesmerized by the strange hairs on the Joey’s head. They stood on end and swayed with a life of their own, as though underwater.

  When the alien spoke, his voice sounded much like anyone else’s, though perhaps a higher pitch than most men’s would be. “Why have you done this?”

  Dalan couldn’t cover his surprise. “Wait—he speaks our language?”

  “She,” Nyr said. “And of course she does, idiot. The Catastrophe was centuries ago. They’ve learned a lot since then.”

  Dalan felt the heat rise to his face. He looked the Joey up and down, not seeing any of the physical indicators he’d use to determine a human’s gender. How Nyr had known escaped him, as the alien didn’t even have nipples, and wore nothing more than an open vest and a loin cloth.

  Nyr faced the Joey. “I had an extra pendant. Consider it a gift. As for this one,” she motioned toward Dalan, “he’ll give you some story about his beliefs to explain why he rescued you. In reality, you’re just a job before he returns home, boasting of his journey.”

  The Joey pulled her tail up to her chest to examine it more closely; the wound split one of the blue circles lining the underside of her tail. Red blood dripped to the dusty ground.

  “It would’ve been best to let me die.”

  At the Joey’s words, Nyr shifted her weight and bent her knees. Dalan shook his head. Only a tribe as bloodthirsty as hers would think the Joey meant them harm. Though the Joey’s inflection made it hard to guess the meaning behind her words, he sensed dismay, not menace, in the alien’s tone.

  He glared at Nyr, silently warning her to stay back, and moved past them to retrieve his pack from beside the b
oulder. The dragonfly offerings jangled inside as he dug through it.

  “Let me get you some bandages for your wound,” he said, pulling out the largest wrapping and some tape. “What’s your name?”

  The Joey raised a canteen and poured water across her skin, rinsing the wound as best she could. Dalan’s mouth felt drier with every drop of water that fell into the dust. As she secured the bandage to her tail, she answered, “My name is Ti’rros. I am a worthless exile, belonging to no tribe.”

  “Dalan of the Omdecu Tribe.” Dalan tipped his head.

  “Nyr of the Hellsworth Tribe.” Nyr reabsorbed her fur, and her ears returned to their normal positions. “Now that we’re done with the introductions, let’s go.” She headed back toward where she’d scaled the cliff face.

  Dalan slung his pack across his shoulder. When she approached the bend in the ravine, he raised his voice. “No.”

  Don’t you want to head home, hmm? the necklace asked.

  Nyr whirled to face them. “What is your problem?”

  “Tell us how to take the necklaces off.”

  Dalan, there’s no reason—

  “I can’t.” She put a hand to her hip, her fingers caressing a knife hilt.

  “Why not?” He stepped toward her, trying to be menacing.

  “Because I don’t know how.” She grabbed the necklace and tried raising it over her head, which resulted in the same failure they’d faced. “And I don’t know any more about it than you do, so don’t bother asking me.”

  Despite Dalan’s wishes, Ti’rros headed toward her. “You’ve had it longer than I have. Surely there is some knowledge you can impart.” Saquey swooped back down, circling the Joey.

  Nyr shook her head, causing her other trophies to clink and rattle on her chest. “I got them just before I met him.” She pointed at Dalan. “I stole both of yours from that tribe. I’m sure that’s part of why they chased me.”

  “Besides the more obvious reason.” Dalan ran a thumb over the pendant’s smooth surface as he raised his canteen to his lips.

  Nyr smirked, then disappeared around the bend in the ravine. The Joey followed, her tail hovering above the ground, waving back and forth with each step.

  Dalan caught up to the alien. “I’m glad you’re well. Feared the rock might have broken your tail.”

  “I will be able to continue my wandering. It is my intention to find the water at the lower end of this ravine.”

  Dalan paused, considering his next move. He needed to get Saquey out of the drylands. The Ancient Teachings obligated him to escort someone traveling in the same direction, but Nyr had betrayed his trust more than once. The Joey, fortunately, planned to travel in a different direction.

  “Goodbye, then,” Dalan said to the Joey’s back. “Tell Nyr what you will, necklace. But if you won’t go peaceably, I’ll have to find a way to remove you myself.”

  Dalan, I only—

  Dalan shrank, absorbing his pack, his clothing, and everything else on his body as he fell to the ravine floor. The skin of his feet hardened, and his arms wrenched in their sockets, becoming wings for the second time that day. As the feathers grew in, he once again felt the hawk’s mind invade. He pushed against it.

  Dalan burst from the ravine in frantic flapping. An updraft caressed his underside, carrying him far above the rocky walls. He hoped he had enough strength after so many transmelds to see them out of the drylands. Saquey buzzed alongside, and Dalan sent it a mental image of open skies and a forest far below.

  Only then did he realize he’d interrupted the voice.

  Dalan nudged the dragonfly to send him an image of himself. It took a few tries for his companion to understand what he wanted, but finally the red hawk appeared in his mind’s eye.

  His feet trailed up under his tail, wings spread wide on the updraft. In appearance, he was identical to any other hawk. The necklace had been absorbed along with his other accoutrements.

  Far below, Ti’rros made her way down the ravine as Nyr clambered to the top.

  Dalan knew he’d been a fool to trust her. Whatever her and the necklaces’ plans had been, Dalan’s transmeld had thwarted them all.

  Nyr stared down into the ravine, her stomach knotting. “You let them wander off with the other amulets?”

  The voice in her head answered, The Joey continues her exile with one of my shards, yes. Thank you for parting with it.

  Nyr let out a growl. She’d thought the amulet would persuade the Joey to follow her, just as it had convinced Dalan to do. “What’s the matter with you? You said I’d get them all back eventually.”

  The Changeling’s gone, too—not much we can do about that.

  “The Changeling?” She snatched up the purple amulet and stared at it, letting it see her anger.

  I only just found out myself, darling.

  “Your other shard should’ve known the moment I put it around his neck.” She pulled a piece of dried fruit from a pocket and chewed on it, thinking about this setback. With one trophy, she didn’t feel ready to return to her people; she’d wanted all three trophies and any other treasures she turned up along the way to prove her worth to her clan.

  What can I say, hmm? You and I can still continue hunting for plunder like you wanted.

  She remembered back to the day she’d found this meddling trophy, in an old man’s hovel. The Tiger Clan had been busy going door to door and ransacking what remained of his village at the time. The man had begged for his life as she rifled through the meager belongings of his single-room cabin.

  He had also whimpered about other riches in a small town not far away, trying to offer his knowledge in exchange for his life, “In Mapleton… It’s west of here. No defenses to speak of. Small place.”

  In a box on his mantle, she had found a curious purple trinket attached to a leather cord.

  “You shouldn’t—” He had shut up when she put it around her neck with her other trophies.

  Nyr had pocketed some metal coins from a drawer as the old man proceeded to tell her everything she wanted to know about Mapleton. Then she backed him into a corner. With his broad shoulders, he might have been a formidable man once, but the years had left him wasted and weak. Only a few wisps of hair remained on his head. She’d never seen someone so old before.

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, old man?” Nyr grabbed his frail arm and raised it between them.

  “No—no! Of course not. Please!”

  Nyr took one of his fingers between hers and snapped it. His screech annoyed her so much she almost raked her claws across his neck to end the sound. “You’re sure you’re not lying?”

  “I can show you!”

  “Good idea.” Nyr grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him toward the door.

  She’d believed she’d need to wait for Klin to destabilize the clan enough for her clanmates to appreciate why she wanted to remove him from power. With the old man’s promises, she allowed herself to hope she might amass enough plunder alone to impress her clanmates, allowing her to challenge him without being challenged in turn by someone else. She’d seen it happen in the past—a new clan master would emerge victorious, only to be taken down within minutes of gaining the title.

  Outside, most of her clanmates occupied themselves by looting and lighting other cabins on fire. Only Jaul noticed as Nyr pushed the old man toward the edge of the village. She admired Jaul’s sleek orange-and-black coat as he moved to intercept her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “This old man wants to show me something.” Nyr smiled at Jaul, letting her fangs show. “Don’t wait for me. I’ll rejoin you all later.”

  Jaul closed the distance, staring at Nyr, his cat’s eyes dilating from slits to circles. Then he kissed her. “You know, I was hoping, after we finished here…”

  Nyr put a hand to his chest, disturbing the thick mane of trophies around his neck. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you sate yourself with Neula instead?” She pushed him away, his jewelry clinking and ra
ttling.

  He gave her an injured look. For a time, Nyr had kept him all to herself, but she understood why he’d grown fond of Neula. He and Neula were similar; they were followers. She respected them both, but they would never overthrow their clan master.

  Jaul pivoted at the sound of a building collapsing on itself. Then he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Nyr... What should I tell Klin if he finds out?”

  Nyr almost answered with a few pithy remarks, but stopped herself. “Whatever you want.”

  Jaul frowned, but nodded. Then he spotted a man fleeing Neula in the distance. He let out a low rumble and sprinted after them, his claws out.

  Nyr returned to her venture, setting off across the dead landscape and avoiding the infrequent prickly-pear cactuses on their path. After a few hours, she tired of the old man’s plodding pace and looped a rope around his neck.

  By the time she spotted the village of Mapleton rising from the horizon, the old man barely clung to life. She’d been forced to drag him along when his strength gave out. She left him lying insensate in the dust of the borderlands as she sneaked toward Mapleton in feline form.

  An iron globe dominated the center of the village; according to the old man, it was an Ancient relic. At the sight of braziers and evidence of sacrifices, Nyr swore when she became clan master, her Tiger Clan would cleanse superstitious fools from Hellsworth Territory.

  Beyond the massive iron sphere, Nyr discovered the smallest house, the one the old man had told her about. Inside, she found no treasure, only a few trinkets and more purple amulets of the type the old man had surrendered to her. She dropped them all into her hip pouch.

  Watch out!

  Nyr crouched, looking for the source of the voice. A club whizzed by her head. She pivoted, slashing at the ribs of the man who’d swung it. They’d fought, but when she snapped his leg, his screams brought other villagers running.

  Outside, Nyr knocked over one of the braziers positioned around the imposing iron globe and fled. The flame leaped from house to house as she circled the town, trying to both lose her pursuers and find the spot where she’d left her captive. He owed her an explanation.