The Last of the Ageless

by Traci Loudin

  Korreth heard a body fall through the grasses and tumble across the ground.

  “Take these,” Soledad whispered from behind them. In the darkness of the cabin, she handed each of them a sack. “Now run.”

  Against his will, Korreth burst from his hiding place and out of the cabin as Zen came their way.

  The giant spotted them. “Purebreeds. Always feasting on the corpses of their betters.”

  Soledad led the way, sprinting around the corner of the cabin back toward the west. Jorrim kept up their pace. Korreth followed, unable to stop running even if he wanted to. Glancing over his shoulder, he didn’t.

  “Run while you can, Purebreeds.” Zen’s booming voice followed them across the grasses. “One day the Ageless will put you in your place.”

  Chapter 8

  Dalan soared on the updrafts, following Saquey. The dragonfly had shown him an image of a pool of water in the sparsely vegetated tundra between the grasslands and drylands. As Saquey dove toward the oasis, Dalan circled the treetops once, scanning the area before ducking beneath the canopy.

  Still on the alert, Dalan discovered a place where the undergrowth had been matted down and pulled over, as if to hide something. Hand and knee prints marred the edge of the pool, but Dalan appeared to have his privacy.

  He recognized most of the trees as kinds he’d grown up with in his forest, but he’d only seen willow trees during a lesson on mutation. The Omdecu Tribe’s primary goal, to preserve dying breeds of animals, also required an understanding of what they ate—plant or otherwise.

  Something darted out from the undergrowth. His talons pierced the small lizard’s neck before Dalan could form a conscious thought. He ripped into the meat, satiating the hawk’s desire for prey as well as his own need to regain his strength for the long flight home tomorrow.

  Listening to Saquey’s wings flutter in the undergrowth not far away, Dalan contented himself with the knowledge that when he returned home, the elders would name him an adult.

  Dalan ruffled his feathers and drank from the pool until his small belly bulged. Though it wasn’t dark yet, he perched on one of the cottonwoods and slept. Throughout the night, he came awake several times to the unfamiliar sounds of animals finding their way to the oasis.

  At dawn he gazed upon the still waters of the pool. Remaining in his hawk meld would save him energy for the journey ahead, but Dalan couldn’t resist the allure of the water and longed for a cool bath. He reached out mentally to Saquey and imagined people seeing him naked and alone, vulnerable.

  Without waiting for the dragonfly to acknowledge, Dalan swooped to the pool, his feathers reabsorbed before his talons touched the moist earth. Back in birth form, he shed his clothing and filled his canteens before plunging in. He dunked his head underwater and enjoyed the silence. The peace made the pain of an extra transmeld worthwhile. When his face crested the surface, something tugged at his neck and came to rest on his chest.

  It’s about time, the voice said.

  Dalan scrubbed his scalp to get rid of the drylands sand.

  You can’t ignore me forever.

  “Could stay transmelded…” he said before he could stop himself.

  What can I do to prove my intentions?

  “That’s simple. Let me take you off.”

  I can’t do that, unfortunately. But I do have some information you might be interested in. One of my other pieces tells me that your Joey friend may be in trouble.

  “What do you mean?”

  It would appear a raiding party is making its way toward the ravine she still travels through.

  The ground dropped from under Dalan’s feet, and he sank back into the water. He’d tried to save Nyr to fulfill the trials, but he should have let her die. Then he’d pulled that rock off Ti’rros for the trials. If she died…

  He shook his head. It was selfish of him to think that way.

  Nyr says she thinks they’ll kill the Joey.

  At the mention of her name, a glimmer flashed in Dalan’s mind like a memory. He stood at the top of the ravine, watching the Joey below. A dust cloud rose on the horizon.

  He shook his head, sending water flying. “Anything else?”

  They’re getting closer.

  Dalan rose, the water heavy as though it wanted to suck him back in. He struggled to pull his clothing over soaked skin, and hoped the extra moisture might ward off the dehydration of his next transmeld. When he slung the pack across his shoulder, the offerings he’d used to attract Saquey jangled inside. The dragonfly spun in a noisy circle, flashing him an image of Ti’rros. “Yes, Saquey. Am going to go help your favorite silver person. Unfortunately, will have to leave you behind.”

  The thought of leaving his dragonfly behind left a hollow pit in Dalan’s stomach, but legends said the bond remained regardless of distance. They’d only bonded a few days ago, but already he couldn’t imagine losing Saquey. No one had ever described how the bond would make him feel—as though he’d found a forgotten piece of himself.

  Saquey’s wings rustled, but Dalan shook his head. “Can try to catch up, but won’t slow down for you.”

  With all his belongings in place, Dalan shrank back into the hawk’s body, letting out a shriek as his nerves protested the sudden transmeld. He burst from the oasis in a frenzy.

  He had no choice but to leave Saquey as he hurtled toward the ravine. The voice was right; a dust cloud rose on the horizon. Without Saquey, reconnaissance fell to him, so Dalan soared over, peering through the cloud.

  Figures on horseback churned up sand, and he darted in for a closer look. No elderly and no children, which suggested raiders rather than nomads. One man’s skin bore an orange tinge. Thick tentacles cascaded down another man’s back, more of a burden than a benefit. With two smaller arms below her normal ones, a dark-skinned woman carried two knives and an axe.

  Dalan broke free of the cloud and dove below the lip of the ravine. As he flew over the Joey, he noticed Nyr not far behind. To his surprise, she wasn’t in cat form.

  “Wait up,” she called, surprising him further. Was she trying to warn Ti’rros about the raiders?

  The time for secrets was past, Dalan decided. He needed to scare off the raiders before any casualties occurred, and from past experience, waving around his Ancient LEC6 wouldn’t do the trick. He had a different plan this time. It would reveal his Changeling powers to Nyr and Ti’rros, but he might save their lives, and the lives of the raiders.

  Dalan landed between Nyr and Ti’rros and transmelded back into birth form. His bones and joints wrenched out of their hawk configurations and into human shapes as they grew heavier, causing him to flop to the ground.

  Through the pain he became dimly aware that Nyr’s footsteps had stopped. As soon as his limbs formed, he got to all fours, and then to his feet. When he completed his transmeld, his eyes met Nyr’s. Her expression wary, she remained fur-less. From behind came footsteps with a strange stride as Ti’rros limped along.

  “Are coming this way,” Dalan told both of them. “Look like a full dozen Changelings.”

  “Perhaps there is a place to hide in the ravine, away from the water,” the Joey suggested.

  Dalan frowned. “Didn’t see a large enough crevice from the air or a way up to the safe side of the ravine.”

  Nyr shook her head, then gestured to a slope on the eastern wall of the ravine. Dalan followed as she jogged to it. She took the climb in long strides, slipping once on some loose pebbles. The Joey remained on the floor of the ravine.

  Dalan raised his voice to carry to them both. “Seven men, five women. Some Changelings with physical mutations. Not sure about the rest.”

  Orange and black fur rippled down Nyr’s arms. Her triangular ears poked up as she peered southeast. Nyr’s part-human, part-feline profile made Dalan shudder. Stopping a transmeld in the middle was unnatural. She didn’t even have a tail.

  Her voice raspy as always, she said, “So the rest are either Purebreeds, or more powerful Chan
gelings.”

  “Do they have weapons?” Ti’rros asked.

  “Yes,” Dalan said. “All of them.”

  “There’s a chance they’re not powerful Changelings, then,” Ti’rros said.

  Dalan recalled the Joey carried only a small knife. “What? Why?”

  Nyr dislodged some pebbles as she repositioned herself lower. “No time for stupid questions, boy. Get out your gun.”

  Dalan squinted as they approached. “They’re slowing down.”

  “I can see that. Did you notice anything else useful while you were flying around?”

  “Three crossbows.” Dalan tried to remember exactly what weapons he’d seen. “Three guns. Three axes. Two swords. And a bow.”

  Nyr grinned, her incisors sharp and predatory. “Definitely marauders.”

  His heart thudded. “Have a plan…” Dalan took a deep breath. “Am going to go scare them off.”

  Translucent inner eyelids slid across Nyr’s slitted pupils. “Who?”

  “Me.”

  Nyr’s black eyebrows shot up, curving the orange and white stripes on her forehead. “How?”

  Dalan’s chest expanded, as though he could finally take a full breath again. “Just wait and see.”

  Dalan slid back down the short distance to Ti’rros and handed her his knife and gun. “Don’t use these if you don’t have to.” He showed her the safety on the side of the Ancient weapon. “Shocks the enemy. Will easily kill them, so aim for their legs. Takes six seconds to recharge after you shoot.”

  The Joey’s silver-skinned fingers wrapped around the butt of the LEC6.

  Nyr glared at him, and Dalan smiled up at her. “Will show you what a feline really looks like.”

  His arms and legs rapidly shortened, their muscles hardening. Though Dalan tried to keep it in, a groan escaped his still-human vocal cords. His jaw jutted into a V-shape to form a muzzle, and as he fell forward, his spine grew into a long tail. A few moments later, he crouched on four legs.

  Nyr’s eyes widened, and Dalan remembered the awe he’d felt the first time he’d seen his mother transmeld into the jaguar. Her broad feline skull had flowed back into sleek muscles on a thick barrel of a torso, supported on four stout, powerful legs. Dark black fur nearly obscured the spotted pattern of the coat. And the way she’d moved, silent and lethal… When the time had come for him to choose his melds, the black jaguar had been his first pick.

  Agitated, his long tail swished forward, reaching his front shoulder. The drylands were no place for a jungle creature like him.

  Dalan forced down the cat mind and padded up the slope. With his keen senses trained on approaching prey, his irritation faded.

  Time for the kill.

  Keeping low, he moved past Nyr and into the nearby scrub. If the prey kept to their current trajectory, they’d reach the ravine a little further down from the slope. Dalan headed their way, darting from bush to cactus to rocky outcropping. His sleek coat might give him away against the sand, but the drylands heat would give him the appearance of a shadow in the mirage.

  He crouched behind a prickly pear bush as the marauders dismounted, leaving one of them holding the horses’ reins.

  Dalan tilted his head up, hoping to see the All-Seeing Eye. Its presence would be an omen, but his cat eyes were weak when peering across so great a distance.

  Someone cried out in dismay, “It’s completely dry!” She was little more than a teenager.

  Dalan’s muscles bunched in preparation to leap, but he pushed the cat-mind back down, trying to maintain better control than he had over the hawk upon spotting prey.

  At the same time, he suddenly noticed the group was smaller than he’d expected. Dalan padded to a different vantage point, trying to see through the scrub. He wished he hadn’t left Saquey at the oasis. In the distance, a second group of riders approached the slope where Nyr and Ti’rros hid. He needed to chase off the nearby group before he could head off the second group.

  Dalan let out a quiet, vibrating growl. The nearby prey froze, making his ears twitch. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of fear. He stalked toward the woman who’d spoken. As he sprang from his hiding place, he extended his claws and roared. Pandemonium broke loose, and his prey scattered. Horses shrilled and pulled free.

  “Panthers in the ravine!” the teenage girl yelled.

  The jaguar landed lightly and pursued a man. He raised a paw to slash open his victim.

  An image from Saquey blinded him, and Dalan slid to a stop with some dryland scrub poking at his belly. If Saquey hadn’t interrupted him... His dragonfly had caught up just in time to keep Dalan from doing something he’d regret.

  Saquey showed him the tentacled man aiming a crossbow at Nyr as she danced around, using other Changelings as shields. As soon as the vision cleared, Dalan’s long tail stretched out behind as his lithe muscles bunched and released, bunched and released. He’d hoped to head off the second group before Nyr got to them, but he’d gotten distracted.

  He took stock of the situation as he approached the second group. Blue lightning arced across the upper body of the tentacled Changeling, and he dropped. A blond Purebreed took aim with his rifle, and Dalan’s hackles rose in fear for Ti’rros. He sprang, and his weight—almost double the Purebreed’s—bore the rifleman to the ground. Dalan managed to keep the jaguar in check, and his claws retracted.

  The four-armed Changeling grappled with Nyr, pummeling her abdomen with her lower two fists. With her upper two arms, the woman grasped Nyr’s wrists, keeping her claws at a distance. Dalan hesitated, trying to maintain control. Nyr kicked at the Changeling’s knee, scraping the side of her boot down the front of her shin. The four-armed woman yowled in pain and shifted her weight. Nyr wrenched a wrist free, and her claws gouged open the Changeling’s throat.

  The scent of blood awakened the jaguar within Dalan. He swiped at the legs of those nearest him as the jaguar grew excited. He pounced on another gunman, and his claws extended into his victim’s body, piercing through meat and organs. Blood covered his sleek coat, and screams rang in the air. He crouched over the body and let out a barking cough that tapered off into a rumbling growl.

  A Purebred man fled east toward the other group, his feet kicking up dust as he cried in terror. The jaguar pursued him and took him down from behind. He sank his teeth into either side of the man’s neck as two Purebred women dragged another away by her armpits.

  Confusing images filled Dalan’s view, but they disappeared soon enough. Something pelted the ground nearby, irritating the jaguar. A Purebreed fired one-handed as she fled, her shots scattered until her figure faded into nothing more than a mirage in the heat.

  The jaguar felt uncomfortable out in the open, with no trees for cover. His tail twitched up to his shoulder, betraying his agitation. After a time, the strange-smelling feline finished looted the other bodies and came to stand in front of him.

  “Dalan…” Her loud voice made his ears twitch. He knew that name. “Dalan… We need to go. These may have only been the scouts. I hope you’re ready to run.”

  Dalan’s mind lazily reasserted itself, and the scent of blood and human waste filled his nostrils. The world snapped into focus. When he recognized how many of the kills belonged to him, he turned away in horror. Saquey hovered overhead, waiting.

  The idea of returning to his birth form seemed obscene. He longed to switch into his tail-horse form and gallop far, far away before transmelding back. Without any stamina left for another meld, he was at a loss for what to do, but he dared not look at any of the other remains.

  He didn’t want to remember their faces.

  Ti’rros turned toward the slope into the ravine.

  “Where are you going?” Nyr called as she tied a small pouch to her belt.

  “To get the rest of our things,” Ti’rros said. “It seems we are in a hurry.”

  Nyr gazed south across the drylands. “Shit. Dalan, can you understand me? We’ve got to go.”

  Dala
n’s eyes slid south, carefully avoiding any bodies. In the fading light of the day, he discovered why his companions were rushing him.

  From the horizon rose another dust cloud, much larger than the first.

  Chapter 9

  Korreth awakened in darkness, not knowing where he was; then he heard Soledad’s voice. In the dim candlelight, he could make out Jorrim, but not their mistress. Korreth crept over to the edge of their large tent, one of many things Soledad had pilfered from Cerrit’s cabin.

  Korreth glanced back to see Jorrim staring at him through slit eyes before he frowned and rolled back over to sleep. Through the tent wall, Korreth heard a crackle, much louder than the snapping of a fire.

  Despite Soledad’s muffled voice, he understood most of her words. “Hundreds of weapons and thousands of rounds of ammunition … He could have had an army. He could have protected himself. Instead, he died like a spiritless fool. It looks like we’re being killed off after all.”

  “I see.” The phantom voice was the same one Korreth had heard before. “Tell me about Zen.”

  “He seems to be using his piece of the Prophet’s pie to its fullest potential. He’s practically a full cyborg now.”

  “No—he couldn’t have. He didn’t have the—”

  “Someone killed Rollick, Kaia. And Rollick was in contact with Henka. Zen even mentioned her by name. Out of all of us, Zen knew she was the one who had the technology he needed to fully integrate cybernetics into his body. Wasn’t she one of those you said had disappeared from your radar?”

  They talked about Zen like he was one of them—an Ageless. Korreth finally understood why Zen had yelled “the Ageless will put you in your place.” He’d puzzled over it, wondering how Zen had known Soledad was an Ageless although she hadn’t aged while in his sight, but the giant had been referring to himself.

  A choked sound came through despite the static. “Yes. If that’s true then he’s extremely dangerous.”