The Last of the Ageless

by Traci Loudin

  Dalan glanced down to check if the Purebreed still lived, but the sound of the dragonfly’s buzzing wings distracted him. Over the din of screams, ripping cloth, and wet sounds he didn’t want to think about, he latched on to that familiar sound.

  Through mental images, he tried to tell Saquey to keep its distance. He didn’t want the dragonfly to risk being knocked from the sky trying to protect him. But Saquey in turn showed him the pale Purebreed pointing his rifle at the tail-horse across the battlefield again.

  Dalan’s vision returned in time for him to shove Ti’rros with his muzzle. He reared back as a red ball of energy passed underneath his three-toed hooves. It took off the arm of a nearby feline, who screamed in rage and pain. No blood spilled from her stump.

  Dalan’s ears rang. He had no idea where he was. A surreal silence swept over him, rendering him a spectator. The melee surged all around, but no one engaged him. Then Saquey buzzed through his line of vision, and with that sound came everything else.

  All the Purebreeds piled up on one feline in front of him. Underneath the scrambling limbs, Dalan caught sight of a speck of orange fur. A woman with long brown hair raised a pistol and yelled, “Let me shoot her!” But she couldn’t aim past her allies.

  Dalan knew who they attacked, but he wouldn’t stand in the path of vengeance this time. Trophy Mane—Jaul, he remembered—and a snarling female rushed to Nyr’s aid.

  “Should we—” Ti’rros started, but Dalan turned tail and trotted into the darkness. Farther from the fray, Dalan kneeled down. He threw back his head and snorted, urging Ti’rros on. Borderlands dirt rubbed his foreleg, stinging in his cuts. Ti’rros fired a warning shot before throwing a leg over Dalan’s back. She used her own tail to steady herself, then kicked at a feline who charged at them.

  But more came on. Dalan thrashed his heavy tail, clearing the area, knocking aside Changeling and Purebreeds alike. He didn’t understand why they kept attacking him and Ti’rros.

  When he swung his tail to the other side, it struck a Purebreed in the head with a sickening snap. As he collapsed, Dalan recognized him as the man who’d shouted for vengeance and triggered the battle.

  Something rose within him, like water flooding a river bed, but he raised a dam against it. Using his heavy, trunk-like tail so much took its toll, leaving him exhausted and open to the physical and emotional onslaught of battle.

  A feline stumbled over the Purebreed’s body. With so much blood matting her fur, Dalan didn't recognize her immediately. Once he did, his heart raced, and he considered galloping off to leave Nyr behind to face whatever happened. Unbidden, he remembered how she’d warned them to run, and how her claws had been sheathed…

  To his surprise, Ti’rros yelled, “Climb up!” and held out a silver hand to her.

  While Dalan hesitated to kneel for her, a red ball of energy came from nowhere and hit Nyr in the chest. She flew back from the force, pink illumination enveloping her upper torso. Dalan shrilled in surprise.

  Another feline charged them, his arms open as though nothing could harm him. Dalan smashed his tail point-first into his forehead, and the feline dropped like a rock from a canyon wall.

  Ti’rros said, “Kneel, Dalan. She doesn’t have the strength.”

  Dalan felt hands on his ribs and bent his knees again. The stinging of his foreleg made him jerk. He felt Ti’rros drag Nyr up on his back, and then Dalan pushed off the ground with his tail.

  “That way,” Nyr muttered.

  Ti’rros patted Dalan’s neck and pointed. “That way!” she repeated.

  With Saquey overhead, Dalan fled the battle. Ti’rros and Nyr’s combined weight made his joints ache, but he forced himself forward, kicking up dust behind them.

  Although Dalan gained speed at first, his strength ebbed until he imagined he wasn’t much faster than a human. Saquey buzzed beside him, sometimes getting ahead, as though urging him on. At one point, Ti’rros bounded alongside him, though he couldn’t remember her getting down. With her powerful legs, the Joey eventually outpaced him.

  His trot slowed as dawn broke. Moisture tickled along his sides, and he wondered if Nyr was bleeding. They traveled a short distance more before his front knees locked. His tail fell limp behind him and his barrel chest heaved as Nyr dismounted. Catching his breath took his all of his attention.

  When Ti’rros lifted a canteen to her blue lips, every fiber of Dalan’s body strained toward that water. He transmelded from tail-horse to birth form before he’d made the conscious decision to do so. The stinging of his foreleg soon paled in comparison to the agony of his bones and muscles changing size and shape.

  His wounds healed as he changed. With shaking hands, Dalan ripped his pack open and grabbed his canteen. The cap flew off and landed on the ground, and he slammed the canteen to his lips. The water pouring over his tongue was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted… and then it ended.

  Nyr took a few steps away. “Incredible.”

  Saquey landed on the ground behind Ti’rros. Its head turned toward them.

  “More,” Dalan coughed around his swollen tongue. “Need more water.” His heart raced.

  Nyr shook her head. “My satchel was lost back there.”

  Ti’rros handed him a canteen. “It is our last.”

  Saquey lifted into the air as if pulled on a string, and then darted back in the direction they’d come. For now, Dalan cared about nothing beyond the lukewarm liquid rushing into his mouth. Nyr narrowed her eyes. He gulped and gulped until an image from Saquey overwhelmed him.

  With his head pounding, Dalan’s sluggish brain slowly processed the multi-faceted view. Three figures had followed them through the night. Dalan choked and sputtered when he recognized two of them…

  Because both still carried their Ancient rifles.

  Chapter 12

  Korreth stared in disbelief, watching the Changeling boy’s transition into a golden animal the likes of which he’d never seen. The horse-like creature swept aside both felines and Purebreeds with his lithe tail. Tomlen went flying.

  As two felines attacked the Joey, villagers from Mapleton tackled the feline with the purple pendant. Korreth assumed her pendant was what had allowed Soledad’s friend Kaia to track them.

  The groans of a dying feline drew Korreth’s gaze, but he couldn’t afford to put her out of her misery. The side of his gun showed its energy pack nearly depleted, and Soledad’s commands had been clear: focus on wounding Zen’s pawns. He raised the rifle to his shoulder and aimed at the beautiful golden horse across the battlefield. The Changeling sidled away, and Korreth’s projectile struck a feline instead, killing her instantly.

  “Is that the boy who was asleep?” Jorrim raised his rifle.

  “Yes,” Korreth said. “It looks like Zen knows how to choose the right slaves.”

  “Then we better take them down. Wouldn’t want to face them and the cyborg at once.”

  “Wait—” Korreth called, putting a hand on Jorrim’s forearm. “Soledad’s in the way.”

  They watched as their mistress surprised a feline with her ability to change ages and choked her to death.

  A familiar voice cut through the darkness from his left. Korreth whipped his rifle around and peered down the sight to see Tora using the butt of her gun to smash a feline across the face.

  Tora cried out again, and Korreth guessed she was out of ammunition. Korreth pulled the trigger just as Ritgur and the feline he fought danced across the path. The red ball of energy passed by the feline’s shoulder and into the villager’s body. Though Ritgur’s look of surprise cut Korreth deeply, he took aim again.

  The gun let out a fizzling noise. Korreth groped at his bandolier and shoved a red cylinder into his weapon.

  This time he didn’t miss. Tora’s enemy crumpled, and she took the moment of respite to reload her own weapon. Korreth opened his mouth to bolster the people of Mapleton, his eyes still on Tora.

  Instead, Farlen called, “Stand firm!”

  A s
peck of red blossomed on Tora’s light-colored shirt, and her mouth went slack. Her eyes wide, she dropped.

  Taking aim at the nearest feline, Korreth pulled the trigger. He sighted at another and pulled again. Then he elbowed his way toward where he’d seen Tora collapse, knocking Lor aside.

  Only upon reaching Tora’s side did Korreth realize none of the felines were armed with pistols—Tora had been brought down by a stray bullet. Korreth kneeled beside her, his eyes burning. Her eyes were already glassy, but he clutched her head to his lap. The battle surged, but Korreth heard and saw nothing.

  A hand closed around his upper arm. Korreth shot upward, his fists swinging until he recognized Jorrim.

  “You’re lucky no one looks down,” Jorrim said over the din of screams and battle cries.

  When Korreth peered across the battlefield, Purebreeds and felines alike paused to gawk at the nearly hairless, silver-skinned humanoid atop the golden-furred horse. Those nearest the pair regained their composure first and attacked.

  Korreth didn’t understand why the felines fought a fellow Changeling, but he felt a strange satisfaction when the pair extricated themselves, as the odds had been stacked against them. A blood-soaked feline stumbled toward them, a purple glow revealing her pendant.

  Soledad had ordered Korreth and Jorrim to wound Zen’s pawns—unless they fled the battle, in which case they should shoot to kill. The wind hadn’t pressured Korreth to carry out either order, but if any of Zen’s pawns deserved to die, it was the feline who’d caused the chain of events leading to this slaughter.

  Korreth aimed and pulled the trigger. The red ball of energy sailed across the battlefield and struck her in the chest, knocking her off her feet. A pink glow flared around her, but Korreth lost sight of her as she fell to the ground.

  The fight moved like a living beast; where once Korreth had been on the outskirts, now a few desperate Purebreeds surrounded him, trying to protect each other’s backs.

  A breeze circled and then squeezed Korreth, the spell taking hold. He didn’t see Soledad anywhere. It didn’t matter; his legs propelled him past fighters from both sides.

  Yven went down under a flurry of claws. The feline turned to him next, her grin revealing small, pointed teeth. As she prepared to lunge, a feathered bolt to the side of her neck arrested her attack.

  Korreth hadn’t even paused. Making his way through the confusion, his arms rose of their own accord, and Korreth found his sights set on a teenaged feline who faced Soledad. But the boy could move. When he closed for the attack, Soledad shifted ages in a blur, becoming a child, a woman, and then a teenager of an age with the feline. She must have dropped her weapons in the chaos.

  Another feline joined the boy and slashed at Soledad as her age fluctuated. Korreth pulled the trigger, but his shot went wild as Soledad’s defensive maneuvering took her farther away from the main battleground. She barely stayed ahead of her attackers’ claws.

  He heard the heavy blow of something blunt hitting flesh beside him. Someone bowled Korreth over and sliced open his right shoulder and bicep. He landed on his back in the dust, raising his arms to protect his face and chest from further clawing. He kicked with both feet, and the feline and her wind instrument went flying. Mira clubbed her twice in the head with a fighting stick, ending their match.

  Before he could check his wounds, the wind seemed to lift him up, and Korreth dodged, pushing and elbowing aside felines and Purebreeds alike. The spell urged him toward Soledad. Beside him, another feline collapsed with a burnt crater in his head; Jorrim was covering him.

  Too close now to use his rifle, Korreth tackled the older feline around the middle. They fell in a heap together, bones crunching. Korreth disentangled himself, keeping his arms out to prevent slashes to his face or neck.

  The feline swept a paw over his open black vest as though wiping away crumbs, more like an annoyed prince than a fighter.

  But Korreth wouldn’t underestimate him; the prince had found his feet with a fighter’s grace.

  The feline lunged, and Korreth sidestepped. Claws sliced along his ribs, ripping through cloth. Korreth touched the wound and saw red.

  The prince charged again. This time Korreth stepped in, not away, meeting him with a solid elbow to the face. Blood sprayed. The feline fell back, tripping over a body, but his claws had already marked Korreth’s midsection. His world lit up with pain far worse than the earlier wounds to his shoulder.

  Korreth clenched his teeth, assessing the situation. With blood matting the fur of his face, the feline approached more cautiously this time. He swiped the air, testing Korreth’s reaction. By his bent posture, Korreth knew the furry prince had broken something in the fall.

  Korreth raised his rifle. The prince came at him in a flurry of claws, only some of which he blocked with the body of his weapon before the distance between them closed.

  The two grappled, struggling to gain control of the fight. Korreth twined his fingers in fur, pulling the prince down as he brought his knee up. Again and again Korreth smashed his knee upwards, until he felt ribs shatter.

  The prince’s grip loosened, and he staggered back, his black vest open. Red bubbled from his mouth as he wheezed and fell to his side, struggling to breathe as blood found its way into punctured lungs.

  The prince’s fur disappeared all at once, his ears sliding back down his head. A moan escaped his lips. The moonlight revealed an unnatural dip in his chest, which heaved one final time.

  Korreth clutched his own abdominal wounds and looked around.

  Jorrim circled the battle’s perimeter, taking aim. A red ball of energy tore through the feline boy’s neck, and Jorrim lowered the tip of his rifle.

  “Orn!” someone yelled. Another teenaged feline rushed to the boy’s side.

  When the teenager looked up, his furious gaze fell on Soledad. He growled—his feline vocal chords made it an impressive sound.

  Even with the spell helping him, Korreth struggled to raise his rifle. He pulled the trigger as claws found Soledad.

  Four red ribbons crossed her neck.

  The feline collapsed in a heap with two holes sizzling in his chest.

  The spell crushed Korreth in a raging pocket of wind. All other sensations faded. His vision narrowed, and all his pain disappeared. His feet gouged the packed earth as he rushed toward Soledad and caught her in his arms. He fell to his knees. Soledad collapsed into his lap while dust enveloped them in a cloud.

  “We have to retreat!” Jorrim’s voice broke through to Korreth’s world. With it came all the sounds around them. The moans of the dying sent shivers down Korreth’s spine as his gaze fell on Soledad’s final, shocked expression.

  A coldness filled him, and all his wounds flared in intense pain. Korreth doubled over, his nose touching Soledad’s upper arm. Clutching his abdomen, Korreth straightened to see Soledad’s years sweeping away.

  A younger Soledad blinked and pushed herself to her feet. She stood, healthy and whole. Her dark gaze locked onto Korreth, and an expression he couldn’t decipher crossed her face.

  She shrank and held out her small toddler arms to him. “Let’s retreat.”

  “Zen’s slaves have all fled.” Jorrim covered them, his rifle pointing back and forth.

  Behind her, a feline took down Al and turned toward them. Korreth whisked Soledad out of harm’s way as Jorrim raised his rifle and removed the threat. Korreth’s arms gave out, and he dropped their mistress to the ground.

  “Let’s go.” Soledad reached up to Jorrim.

  “You suddenly need to be carried now?” he asked, but slung his rifle over his shoulder and picked her up anyway.

  Korreth didn’t want to retreat; he wanted to stay and help the villagers of Mapleton. Fleeing through the drylands would do him no good unless they found Waylen’s mule. When he touched a hand to his stomach, he felt slick, wet blood, but he refused to look at the wound.

  He heaved himself to his feet and tottered after Jorrim, keeping his hands press
ed to his stomach, stumbling off into the darkness and confusion. Jorrim soon faded into a white blotch in the night. Korreth gasped, pain lancing through his abdomen, and took one last look over his shoulder.

  Through the darkness, he couldn’t tell how many villagers remained standing. Fallen bodies littered the ground. He imagined whoever had accidentally shot Tora now rested not far from her body.

  “Korreth, come on!” Jorrim called.

  Korreth trusted Jorrim’s sense of direction. While following the sound of Jorrim’s feet pounding the hardened soil, he allowed himself to hope the few remaining villagers from Mapleton might survive.

  No one followed them. As the adrenaline wore off and fatigue set in, Korreth’s legs grew heavier and heavier, but he pushed on.

  He tripped over his own feet and skidded across the ground on his side. He couldn’t help but scream as drylands dirt ground into the wounds on his shoulder. His vision darkened.

  As he blinked, Jorrim and Soledad kneeled beside him. Jorrim’s pale fingers probed the wound on his bicep, and Korreth let out a groan. He cleaned the wound as best he could without water.

  “Well, what happened?” When Soledad’s roaming hands came back bloody, she gasped. “We should’ve bound your wounds. I thought that was my blood!”

  Korreth raised his eyes at the genuine-sounding concern in her adult voice. Moving his head took too much effort.

  Jorrim took off his own shirt and pressed it to Korreth’s middle. “Hold that for a few minutes. We’ve got to get you back to the mule. I only hope we packed enough healing supplies.”

  “Yes. The supplies…” an unfamiliar voice said. A feline, every inch of visible fur matted with blood, stood not far from Jorrim. She must have used the rocks and bushes nearby to sneak up on them in the pre-dawn light. “Take us to the supplies.”

  Dozens of necklaces encircled her furred throat, but a purple talisman caught Korreth’s eye. Tora and all the other villagers had died because of this feline, and he had failed to kill her.