The Last of the Ageless

by Traci Loudin

  “You done found the woman that destroyed our village?” Olix passed around four mugs of cold tea.

  “Yes, and her allies,” Soledad said after a sip. “The ones I believe you mentioned, who fired on you when you tried to run her down on horseback.”

  Olix stared out the door of the hut. “Yeah, what’s that got to do with us?”

  Soledad rocked back as if shocked. “I thought you would want vengeance as much as we do.”

  “Now, didn’t I tell you? We don’t got no clan leader here.”

  “I was asking if you wanted vengeance.”

  “’Course I do. But I don’t think you came back here just for me.”

  “Farlen—”

  “Or Farlen neither.”

  Soledad nudged Korreth, and his frustration took free rein. “As we told you last time, we are not refugees, nor are we looking for handouts. If you want to come with us and rescue Gryid, fine.” Unable to lash out at Soledad, Korreth’s resentment transferred to Olix. “If not, we’ll do what we can to get Rollick out, but don’t blame us if Gryid never makes it back.”

  He clamped his teeth together. Though her devilish wind hadn’t forced him to talk, Korreth wondered if Soledad’s spell could make them speak her words without a command. He’d gotten pulled into her story too easily.

  Olix studied his fingernails. “How many?”

  Korreth spoke before Soledad had the chance to lie. “We haven’t actually seen them ourselves, but got word of their whereabouts.”

  “We wanted to hurry here, to tell you all,” Jorrim spoke up. “It didn’t seem right to track them down, and only then come to you.”

  Korreth stared at him, wondering why Jorrim was suddenly playing along.

  “A little knowing goes a long way, they say.” Olix stood up, making the cramped space more uncomfortable. “I’ll go and talk to the others. You all wait here.”

  When he pushed his way outside, Korreth caught a glimpse of some of the women who’d eavesdropped on them the last time they were in town. He tapped on Jorrim’s shoulder, I don’t like this.

  Korreth couldn’t hear their words, but their tone was heated. An intense argument erupted, and voices rose until several people yelled over others, with Lor’s voice rising above the rest.

  Soledad frowned at the two of them from behind her tea mug. “That could have gone better.”

  Jorrim stood by the door and clutched his weapon as if on guard. Korreth wondered at his friend’s sudden compliance, but then a chilling thought occurred to him. Despite everything their old masters had done to them, the suffering they’d put them through, Korreth had never seen Jorrim afraid before.

  Korreth didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

  Olix peeped in around the door. “We won’t do it,” he said, and then abruptly disappeared. Korreth heard the muffled sounds of a struggle before the door banged open. Farlen, Tomlen, and two other men stood on the other side.

  “Olix don’t want no part of this, but some of the rest of us want a shot at her.”

  “I’d like to burn that cat alive,” one man said, and spat on the ground. “See how she likes it.” In the darkness, Korreth couldn’t tell how many crowded around Olix’s hut.

  “Just point us in the right direction,” a woman yelled. “We’re gonna tear her apart!”

  “We’ll need a plan,” Soledad said. “And that starts with being well-rested and fed. We’ll also need to learn everything you know about the feline woman. We don’t know if Rollick and Gryid are with them, or if they’ve taken them somewhere. So we’ll scout around where they are, and then come up with a plan of attack.”

  “No time for all that!” someone shouted.

  Other voices rose in agreement. “No way are we letting her get away again.”

  Farlen faced the small crowd. “You done saw what happened the last time we chased her down without a plan. Me and Olix was the only ones to come back. Tomorrow we’ll suss out a plan. You heard the lady. Get some rest.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality.” Soledad stood up and slid into a slightly younger age. The villagers stepped back, and Korreth heard someone whisper an explanation, “She’s like Gryid.” He and Jorrim pushed through the press of bodies outside the hut.

  “Bad luck might be following you,” Lor said. “But if you really know where she is…”

  As they moved through the villagers, Soledad reassured them. “We’ll get Gryid back before you know it. And we can all sleep easier once we’ve had our vengeance on the feline for the family we lost.”

  Eventually common sense prevailed, and the crowd dissipated to rest and prepare for the next day. Korreth, Jorrim, and Soledad followed Farlen toward the globe at the center of the town. “So tell me,” he said. “What’re you thinking of doing after all this blows over?”

  “To tell you the truth, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead,” Korreth lied.

  “Rollick will guide us,” Soledad said solemnly.

  Jorrim coughed. When Soledad glanced his way, he covered his mouth with a hand.

  Farlen nodded. “Don’t know how others will feel about it, but might be we could take you in as part of our clan, seeing as how there’ll only be four of you once you get your chief back. Don’t have the huts yet, of course. But there’s safety in numbers, they say.”

  Korreth’s stomach sank. He’d never expected to be treated so fairly outside of his own clan.

  Willing to take in strangers... These people didn’t deserve the fate Soledad would lead them to.

  Before Korreth could let cowardice get the better of him, he blurted, “What if Olix is right? Maybe seeking vengeance will only create more problems than it solves.”

  Soledad’s eyes went wide. Clearly, she hadn’t expected Korreth to be the one to oppose her plans.

  “We gotta get your clan leader back, though,” Farlen said, oblivious to the daggers in Soledad’s gaze. “And Gryid is my friend.”

  Soledad’s mouth twisted into smile, but her eyes were dark. “How fortunate you are, Farlen, to count a Changeling as a friend.”

  Farlen smiled, oblivious to the subtext of the conversation. “Come with me. You can stay at my place ‘fore we set out tomorrow. It’s bigger than Olix’s new hut anyway. And he don’t want you around, I’d say.”

  As they trailed behind Farlen through the deserted paths through the village, Korreth whispered to Soledad, “Do you really think these people can take down Zen’s minions?”

  In the torchlight, her expression revealed her exasperation. “Yes, though they won’t be much help against Zen himself.”

  “Then I suppose you expect us to be the ones to take him down,” Jorrim mumbled.

  “No,” she said. They passed outside the light of the torches, and darkness shrouded them. “I expect you to distract him for me.”

  Chapter 10

  Though Nyr and her companions made good time, she doubted the nomads who followed would let them get away with killing their scouts so easily. In the early light of the next day, the dust cloud haunted Nyr’s southwesterly route. She surmised the main tribespeople must be on foot by their slow progress. Their enemies would’ve gained on them if they’d had horses like the scouts had.

  When Nyr, the jaguar, and the Joey approached the western borderlands, she faced a dilemma. Leading them into Hellsworth Tribe territory might be enough to deter whatever tribe of nomads chased them, but she wasn’t ready to deal with her clan yet. Her trophy still hadn’t helped her discover more treasure, like it’d promised. She couldn’t return to claim leadership of the Tiger Clan until she had something to show for her absence.

  With no other choice, she curved south, skirting the edge of the drylands. The Joey followed her lead, and Dalan padded along in near silence.

  While she jogged, Nyr mused on the secrets her little amulet had been keeping from her. She finally understood why it had chosen Dalan as its second host. He wasn’t just a Changeling; he was a powerful Changeling. She’d cal
led Dalan naïve, but she’d been the foolish one.

  The boy had been alone in the drylands, which should have been her first clue. What Purebred tribe would foolishly send their kids out for some stupid test of manhood all alone? A Purebred tribe that didn’t last longer than a generation, that’s what—so he couldn’t be Purebred at all. The boy had been quick to “rescue” her, taking on her pursuers despite being outnumbered, something no Purebred boy would do, no matter how naïve. She cursed her stupidity under her breath.

  They traveled through most of the next night, their speed slowing despite more frequent breaks. Once morning broke, Dalan halted underneath one of the many short trees of the borderlands.

  “It seems he will change back,” the Joey said in her annoying, high-pitched voice.

  Nyr sat on the nearby rocks to watch. Unlike when she shifted forms, Dalan’s bones and muscles rearranged themselves, turning him into a grotesque heap of unshaped fur. As his form became more humanoid, the boy let out a long groan. His Changeling powers seemed to come at a heavy cost. His clothing, belt, necklace, and small pack pushed out from his skin, strangely clean compared to the rest of him.

  Dalan fell onto his gore-spattered forearms and gagged. He started to wipe at the dried blood on his face, but then scooped up sand instead. With eyes closed, he scrubbed off the dried residue with the harsh sand.

  Nyr shook her head. She found herself wondering what his superstitions had to say about what he’d done. Instead she said, “That was some fight.”

  “Water,” Dalan croaked, his jaw stained red. “Water.”

  The Joey handed the boy a silver canteen of the same shade as her pallid skin. With his eyes closed, Dalan swished and swallowed, smart enough not to waste a drop. He took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes, they bored into Nyr’s.

  A dry chuckle escaped her. “We’re cousins, you and me.”

  This whole time, they’d each thought the other weak and helpless. The boy had rescued her, unaware that she’d killed several of her pursuers already. Now they both knew each other for Changelings, with similar powers to boot. It made her wonder if their two tribes had ever been one, some long-forgotten generation ago. But even the Jaguar Clan couldn’t become full jaguars the way this boy had.

  The Joey tossed Dalan his other pack. Even with an injured tail, the awkward alien had clambered back down into the ravine to get the boy’s belongings before they’d fled. Ti’rros handed Dalan’s gun back to him and said, “It is clear I should protect you on your journeys in return for saving my pitiful life twice.”

  Nyr’s eyes narrowed. She’d have to watch their alliance closely.

  “I always thought there was something suspicious about you, Dalan.”

  “Never knew any tribes could transmeld besides mine,” Dalan said in his strange dialect.

  “Yours wasn’t the only tribe gifted with the aliens’ blessing.” Nyr said the last word sarcastically, looking at Ti’rros.

  The Joey’s blank, stupid expression wasn’t worth the trouble. “It only makes sense that my ancestors would try to dominate a weaker species.”

  Dalan’s head whipped around so fast, Nyr couldn’t contain her laughter. “What’d I tell you, Dalan? The Joeys have always considered humans inferior. That’s why they brought about the Catastrophe. Tell him, Joey. Tell him you would’ve preferred we let you die.”

  “Yes,” Ti’rros said. “It is as I mentioned in the canyon.” The ridiculous-looking hairs on the alien’s head wavered in opposition to the faint breeze. They must be nearer to the grasslands than Nyr had calculated.

  Dalan sounded strangled as he asked, “Why?”

  “Because we’re ants to be crushed.” Nyr watched his expression, wondering how his tribe had failed to educate him in the history every child knew. “The descendants of the aliens consider all of us inferior, Changeling, Purebred, Brute, what-have-you—if we all died out, the Joeys would celebrate world-wide. So you see, there was no point saving her.”

  The boy shook his head in disbelief, then tilted his face to the sky. His eyes came to rest on something, and Nyr followed his gaze up to the Fragment, the constant reminder that the Joeys’ ancestors had won. The aliens hadn’t managed to exterminate the Ancients, true, but chemical warfare and disease nearly had. They’d ruined everything during the Catastrophe, leaving the descendants of both sides to scrape out a life in the ruins of a world no longer worth fighting over. Why the boy had saved one of them escaped her understanding.

  His saving you made no sense either. It took Nyr a second to determine whether that mental voice belonged to her or the amulet. The trinket tended to spend long periods of time dormant, when nothing awakened it. She decided this thought was her own.

  “I know this is difficult for you to understand, Dalan,” the Joey said. “I am a true abomination, not Purebred, as the humans would say. It is shameful to be deformed like me, but to have been saved by an inferior species only brings greater shame.”

  Behind them came the buzz of the boy’s pet dragonfly. Although Dalan could make it obey his silent commands, the bug fell farther and farther behind. Only their infrequent breaks allowed it to catch up. It seemed as exhausted as the rest of them.

  “Time to go,” Nyr reminded them. They had to push on. Despite the extra weapons Nyr had lifted from the dead scouts, she would be too tired to put up a good fight. Plus, they skirted too close to Hellsworth territory for her comfort.

  They shuffled across rocky earth, avoiding the larger boulders. By late afternoon, Dalan ran out of water and stopped in his tracks.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Nyr faced the way they’d come, hoping they’d outdistanced the dust cloud, but it remained on the horizon.

  “Have another canteen somewhere...” The boy rummaged through his pack.

  “You’re using up all of our water.” Nyr continued toward the south, the other two flanking her. Dalan found the canteen and took a long, greedy gulp. He stumbled over a stone and caught himself, coughing. Nyr should’ve felt satisfied by slapping the boy down, but a twinge of guilt spoiled the moment. She shook it off and picked up the pace.

  After an hour or so more, Nyr slowed to avoid leaving them behind. Dalan merely shuffled along. The Joey made no mention of her injuries, but her tail sometimes dragged behind her. All the Joeys Nyr had ever seen had met their deaths with more dignity than any human. If the alien’s tail was infected, Dalan and Nyr might not know until it went septic.

  In the distance, short, stubby trees cast long shadows in the early twilight. More shrubs underfoot made for slower going. They’d straggled deeper into the borderlands than Nyr had wanted. Stumbling through obstacles at night while exhausted would cost them more time in the long run.

  Stumbling over a gnarled root, Nyr tossed up her hands. “Alright, time for a break.” When Dalan collapsed to the ground, she stood over him and put her hands on her hips. “For such a powerful Changeling, you’re pathetic.”

  Dalan took another greedy drink from the canteen before holding it up to the Joey. They were lucky Nyr had the foresight to take all the water off the scouts they’d slain, or they never would’ve made it this far.

  “Transmelding takes a lot of energy, you know.” Dalan dropped his pack to the ground and rested his head on it.

  Inside Nyr’s mind, a voice said, Not all tribes are as hardy as yours. Her thoughts had grown more tangled with the voice over the past few days, but she recognized this backhanded compliment as the amulet’s.

  “Oh, you’re back,” she snapped. “Just in time to annoy us.”

  When she didn’t hear anything more from the little parasite around her neck, Nyr set about preparing dinner with the Joey’s help. Between the two of them, they’d managed to bring along quite an inventory of food. Nyr built a small fire and boiled some water while Ti’rros peeled and sliced tubers the dead scouts had thoughtfully provided.

  The Joey prodded Dalan with the tip of her tail, as though afraid to touch the boy. Da
lan muttered his thanks and took a boiled tuber. The three of them ate dinner in near silence, and without even offering to take watch, Dalan immediately fell back to sleep.

  As though sensing Nyr’s annoyance, the Joey offered, “It would be no trouble to take first watch.”

  Nyr nodded and unrolled her bedding, planning to shift forms under her blankets.

  The Joey pointed at the sky, and Nyr followed her gaze.

  Dalan’s pet bug darted around, doing loops midair and diving toward the fire. Nyr picked up a gun she’d taken from one of the scouts, but stayed low to avoid making herself an easy target. The Joey took the rifle, her hands sliding along its body with familiarity. The insect continued its insane dance.

  “It’s trying to warn us,” Nyr murmured.

  Dalan started to snore.

  From the scraggly bushes to the west, Nyr heard a familiar hissing noise, and what sounded like the wind howling through a canyon. The hiss came again, and when she heard the wind instrument’s eerie moan once more, Nyr told the Joey, “Stay here and keep watch over the boy. My old clan must’ve tracked me down.”

  She crept toward the chest-high bushes, the gun still clutched in her right hand. Shifting forms, Nyr tensed and her pointed ears swiveled at the quiet sounds of the borderlands at night.

  A noise from ahead to her left was meant to distract her. She whipped her gun to the right instead. At the crunch of a boot on dry earth behind her, Nyr ducked.

  A clawed hand passed over her head. She whirled, coming up with a left-handed uppercut to her attacker’s jaw. As he stumbled back, she trained her gun on him. Other figures came out of the darkness, surrounding her.

  “You’ve grown soft in your time away, Nyr,” her clan master rasped. Klin wore an open black vest and dark denim pants. Familiar orange fur covered every inch of visible skin. “Using a projectile weapon instead of your claws? Pitiful.”