The Last of the Ageless Page 11

  But the old man had disappeared.

  She’d cursed herself for a fool, but had no time to search for him as the villagers pursued her across the arid borderlands.

  Then the darkness itself had seemed to whisper in her mind. Her newest trophy had told her it would help her find wondrous plunder, forgotten over the ages, in exchange for reuniting it with its other shards. But it had been of little help dealing with her pursuers until it spotted Dalan, who had created the perfect distraction for the horsemen who’d pursued her. Since then, she hadn’t tried to take the amulet off again.

  The sun met the horizon, and Nyr followed along the top of the ravine in the direction the Joey had gone, reluctant to let her wander off with one of the trophies. The alien only had one canteen. Nyr wondered how long it would take her to succumb to dehydration, nullifying Dalan’s deed.

  “So do you know where the boy went or not?” Nyr said to the amulet.

  He’s a Changeling like yourself. Is it such a surprise he could disappear?

  “What kind of Changeling? You’re being coy.” Her amulet tended to give evasive answers, like when she’d demanded to know how it had been created and why it could talk.

  He shifted into a bird and left, though I’d hoped he’d do more scouting… to help us find the rest of my shards.

  “I can’t believe that weakling boy turned out to be a Changeling. He let me go on thinking him a Purebreed.”

  Then she thought about what it said. It might lead her to more trophies, but something didn’t add up there. “So you’re saying your three shards will still be able to communicate, even across those distances?”

  Of course. We’re inseparable.

  The amulets’ real goals—and whether or not they all shared the same goals—remained unclear. She didn’t want to imagine what might happen if any of the amulets fell into the wrong hands.

  “And your other wearers?” she asked on instinct, wondering if she, the Joey, and Dalan were the only ones.

  What other wearers?

  Nyr dropped the trinket and scanned the horizon. A dust cloud rose in the distance.

  “So what would you have me do now?” She tucked it back under her other amulets, so its glow wouldn’t give her away in the coming darkness. It had complained about this habit before, but she ignored its pleas to see the world. Its curiosity wasn’t worth her life.

  Perhaps head to the west, to the grasslands. I remember a place called Searchtown. Whether it’s still populated, or abandoned after all these centuries… The voice trailed off, only to resume a moment later. It will undoubtedly harbor some hidden treasures.

  As Nyr started to argue, the voice spoke up again. Keep quiet, you two.

  “Who?” For a moment, another voice entered her head, as though she heard someone whispering at the bottom of the ravine… or someone whose screams were muffled under a pillow.

  Sorry, my dear. I was talking to one of my other shards.

  “Oh really?” She snorted. “Not to the Joey’s shard. And not to the boy’s. What did you say about other wearers?”

  You’ll meet them soon enough, darling. I didn’t want you to worry, hmm? I’ll keep up my end of the bargain—to find you ever more treasure—if you’ll but keep up yours. To show me the world and find my other shards.

  Nyr scanned the horizon again in the dying light, trying to decide what to do.

  In the meantime, I have other business to attend to.

  Nyr narrowed her eyes, distracted. The dust cloud on the horizon changed direction—not a storm after all. She traced its trajectory straight toward the ravine. “Do you see that? Looks like one of your other wearers is about to be in trouble. It could be marauders.”

  Ti’rros? If they’re nomads, they’re as useful to me as the alien. But on the other hand…

  Nyr didn’t care about the Joey either, but she couldn’t let her shard get away. She cracked her knuckles, thinking. A distraction might help. “Make your other shard tell Dalan his pet is in danger. He can’t say he finished his mission if she dies the very same night.”

  My thoughts exactly. I knew there was a reason I chose you.

  Chapter 7

  Korreth watched his feet, trying to avoid stepping on the tiny stones, scrub, and prickly-pear cactuses of the borderlands in the dark. His stomach growled, but he ignored it as he always did.

  Later that night, Korreth noticed they no longer headed in their original direction. “I thought we wanted to find whoever had Gryid.”

  Soledad’s voice warbled, no doubt as she changed ages, though he couldn’t be sure in the dark. “We wouldn’t catch up to a horseman now, even one who’s weighed down by a prisoner.”

  “But—”

  “If you open those knapsacks, you’ll find the good people of Mapleton provided us with some jars of prickly-pear cactus stew.”

  Korreth tripped over a small bush as he opened the knapsack and pulled out a jar. He took a sip. The stew offered little flavor, but his stomach begged for more.

  “You didn’t want them finding out you and Korreth aren’t from Rozle,” Jorrim said.

  Korreth elbowed him, hoping he’d drop his surly tone.

  Soledad made her way around a chest-high bush. “That’s right.”

  Jorrim huffed. “Then where the hell are we going?”

  Soledad spun to face them. An angry young woman quaked before them, body rigid, her lips in a straight line. “If I must, I’ll command you to keep silent. Opening your mouth the way you did back there could have cost the two of you your lives.”

  Her eyes burned into Jorrim’s until she pivoted on her heel. Korreth followed without meeting his friend’s eyes, unwilling to see the recrimination there. Once they were a few strides ahead, Jorrim trailed after.

  For a time, the only sounds were their footsteps on the sandy earth, Korreth’s slurping, and an occasional skittering as they disturbed some nocturnal creature on their path.

  Korreth understood Jorrim’s frustration. Brutal and unforgiving, their masters in the Badlands Army hated those weaker than themselves. They often reminded their slaves how thankful they should be to serve the strong and act as their training dummies. Korreth and Jorrim were no weaklings, but compared to the Changelings’ mutated abilities, the Purebreeds were powerless.

  Despite the torture Korreth and Jorrim had endured as slaves, at least their old masters’ motivations were easy to understand. Reaching up to touch his wounded face, Korreth wondered why Soledad had refused the quick-heal.

  As his fingers probed the bone around his eye, his eyebrow, and then the eye itself, understanding punched him in the gut. Soledad had known her spell would heal them, but couldn’t mention it in front of the villagers.

  Korreth felt the rest of his face and found no tender spots. “That’s why you wouldn’t let me take Verra’s quick-heal…”

  Remembering Soledad’s instant dismissal of Verra’s offer made him wonder if the quick-heal could have somehow interfered with the spell. He wished he’d accepted Verra’s potion before Soledad noticed.

  As the first rays of dawn shone above the horizon, Soledad stopped. “Make a fire to keep the animals away. I’ll take first watch, but then you two need to split the rest of the day.”

  Jorrim snapped twigs off nearby scrub, every precise motion betraying his anger. When Korreth tried to help him by piling the twigs in a shape conducive to creating fire, Jorrim barked, “Do you mind? I know what I’m doing here.”

  With his hands out, Korreth backed away. He bedded down, covering any exposed skin, including his face, with extra pieces of clothing.

  While trying to relax into sleep, he mused on Soledad’s strange behavior, such as why she ingratiated herself with Purebreeds. None of the Changelings he’d ever come across would deign to blend in with what they would consider the weaker races. Their new master closely guarded her true motives.

  What felt like moments later, Korreth awoke. When he pulled the cloth from his face, the sun overhead inst
antly blinded him. Something had startled him awake. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw Jorrim’s eyes were open, too.

  Though Korreth couldn’t see her, Soledad’s words carried over the silence of the borderlands north of the drylands. “Yes, Kaia. They said the necklaces were gone. It’s unclear why they took Gryid, but I’m sure the necklaces were one objective.”

  A strange crackling noise, very different from the crackling fire, followed her words. Then another female voice answered, “Fine, but who cares if the necklaces were an objective? What I want to know is why they would take Gryid.”

  “Wait…” Soledad’s voice rose as she paced closer to them. Jorrim’s eyes widened, but Korreth shook his head. At her distance, she couldn’t know they were awake.

  “What is it?”

  “How do you know the ones who disappeared from your radar are really dead?”

  The static came through before the other woman asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Kaia…” Soledad sounded breathless. “What if they’ve all been kidnapped, like Gryid? What if they’re still alive?”

  “Trust me, when the beacons go out, they’re dead. Akihito, Mallak, Hakan, and Zen’s sister Rafia all died long ago. And as for Timar and Seamus, as well as Henka, Liang, Rollick, and now Gryid... I suspect Zen got to them over the years.”

  “Maybe Zen removed their tracking devices. Maybe we got our wires crossed.” Soledad ventured closer, her words stumbling out in her excitement. “What if he’s making them disappear, not killing them at all?”

  “You told me you saw Rollick’s body yourself. That’s why you contacted me in the first place.”

  Soledad completed her circuit, and Korreth heard only a murmur. Then Soledad’s words became clearer, “—more than one turncoat among us. Two different Ageless seeking power in two different ways.”

  The crackle came again, and the other woman chuckled. “Of course. Don’t we always seek power in our own ways? But—” Korreth missed a long murmuring piece of the conversation, until, “—trying to steal from the rest of us.… what to make of those necklaces.”

  “I think they’re K’inTesh relics,” Soledad answered. “You weren’t the only one the Prophet assigned alien technology to for safekeeping.”

  Korreth wondered what K’inTesh meant, but didn’t puzzle over it as he struggled to hear Kaia’s next words.

  “True. Gryid never told me…” The murmuring continued for a few moments.

  Soledad answered, “If it’s K’inTesh relics they seek, you’re next, Kaia.”

  “Perhaps. Be careful out there.”

  “I will. My friends will always protect me.”

  Korreth’s eyes narrowed, his confusion mirrored on Jorrim’s face. Why would she call them her friends?

  Kaia murmured before her voice grew warmer, “… the clever uses you’d find for the nanotech the Prophet left you. Goodbye, sister.”

  Then came a beep. Korreth stifled his gasp of surprise. Soledad had Ancient technology. Nothing else could make a noise like that and transfer a conversation out of thin air over a distance. He almost chuckled at the irony of Jorrim telling the villagers Soledad didn’t talk to the wind like Gryid.

  Soledad’s footsteps crunched through vegetation, and Korreth squeezed his eyes closed, breaking into a sweat. No doubt their mistress would be displeased they’d eavesdropped.

  “Korreth.” Her voice much louder, she paused a few feet away.

  Korreth almost jumped out of his skin, and he cracked his eyes open.

  “It’s your turn for watch. Get up and let me rest.”

  Korreth groaned as though stretching from interrupted slumber. The sand ground under his feet as he rose. He roamed around while Soledad bedded down, then sat down within tapping distance of Jorrim. He put his dark hand on his friend’s shoulder, hoping Jorrim had calmed down enough to talk.

  She is in danger. Jorrim’s hand drummed out a series of taps on Korreth’s naked wrist, free from shackles for the first time in years. They kill her. We escape.

  Korreth replied, Or they kill her. Others capture or kill us.

  Jorrim hesitated before tapping, True. Caution.

  She needs us and keeps us alive. Others, no.

  You protect her?

  Yes, to stay alive. Korreth tried to appease his friend. I want to see my family again.

  Good. I want to go home.

  Agreed, my friend.

  Korreth stood up to continue his watch, replaying the conversation between the two Ageless in his head. His mind lingered over the strange word Kaia had mentioned: nanotech.

  Korreth had easily fallen back to sleep after his turn at watch. When he awakened, he kept his eyes closed, savoring his freedom. The chains that had dragged his arms and legs down even in sleep were gone. Lying on his back, he felt like he might just float away.

  “How about some real food?” Jorrim said, shattering Korreth’s tranquility.

  He cracked his eyes to see Jorrim towering over a youthful Soledad in the light of dusk.

  “You two slept the entire day.” The shawl the villagers had given her draped over her small shoulders. “We should get moving. We can eat while we walk.”

  “What was the point of coercing those people to give us real food if we’re not going to eat it?”

  Korreth got up. He rubbed his wrists, and then packed up their meager belongings and grabbed the canteens from the scarce borderlands grass.

  “Thank you for letting us rest,” Korreth said to her as he settled his canteen harness across his shoulders.

  “Oh, don’t suck up.” Jorrim picked up his canteens, his expression sour.

  They traveled northeast, dodging bushes and prickly-pear cactuses as the light faded. For a while, the two men followed Soledad in silence, and Korreth took the chance to munch on some dried fruits the villagers had provided. He marveled at each step he took without chains to weigh him down.

  Through the better part of the night, they followed their mistress on a wagon trail cutting through the sparse, short trees and bushes north of the drylands and south of their tribelands. The area was every bit as hot as the drylands, and the added humidity made it worse.

  During the walk, Korreth gave more thought to escape. They hadn’t fled from the Badlands Army just to become slaves again. He had to see his family. He had to warn them. But Soledad was no ordinary master, by Purebred or Changeling standards. Even if they waited for a distraction before running, her strange incantation kept its hold over them.

  The legends of old were of little help—one either broke the spell or slayed the caster, but her spell made it impossible to kill her. He spent the rest of the night wracking his brain for any way to break her spell.

  When morning broke, Soledad said, “It’s not as hot here, so let’s keep walking. We’re approaching the territory of another Ageless, and I’m not sure what our reception will be.”

  Korreth said, “Then perhaps it would be best to get some rest, wouldn’t it, mistress?” If Jorrim hadn’t been sulking, Korreth knew he would’ve asked the same question.

  “Surely you’re not tired?”

  Though the sun rose in front of them, Korreth discovered he wasn’t. Jorrim didn’t reply.

  The scrawny trees of the arid lands grew fuller and taller the farther they traveled. The silence stretched between the three of them, leaving nothing for Korreth to focus on but the cloying humidity. The full-coverage desert clothes trapped sweat against his skin, but going shirtless wouldn’t help much. The uncomfortable heat weighed on him.

  Korreth felt itchy. Irritated. “Mistress, Jorrim and I have been away from our tribes for far too long. I know this quest is important to you, but surely you realize two Purebreeds aren’t the best allies for a powerful Changeling such as yourself.”

  “I’m sure it seems so to you, Korreth,” Soledad said, never pausing in her stride. “But you are more useful to me than you know. Think about it. I have skills neither of you have, and you have skills I don’t
have. We’re different genders, different ages. We have different backgrounds, know different things. Diversification means we can fit in with more tribes, as you’ve proven already.”

  So flattery would get him nowhere, but Korreth thought of a tack they hadn’t tried on her yet: compassion. He'd avoided thinking about his family for so long that he found it difficult to release his grip on his emotions. He didn’t want Soledad to know anything more about him than she commanded him to reveal, but if it might help win their freedom…

  He had to try. “When the slavers got me, my daughter was only six. My son, a newborn. I never saw my son’s boyhood, or watched my daughter grow into a young woman,” Korreth’s voice caught. “But my tribe isn’t far to the north.”

  “Even if any of that is true, I can’t let you leave,” Soledad said. Out of the corner of his eye, Korreth tried to gauge her blank, cold expression. “You’re not the first of my slaves to try that tactic.”

  Korreth swallowed his disappointment. Uttering those few sentences about his past life had destroyed the dam restraining his memories. He narrowly avoided taking a tree branch to the face as his vision blurred. Schooling his facial expression took all of his willpower.

  The words wrenched their way out of him. “Has anyone ever survived being your slave?”

  Soledad’s eyes flicked toward him and then away. Her silence was answer enough.

  As he trudged over dry grasses, Korreth remembered a different day he’d thought he wouldn’t survive. Their Changeling masters usually kept them chained in pairs to encourage compliance with their orders and to make escape more difficult. Before Jorrim, Korreth had a string of different partners. One had refused to eat, tired of being the Changelings’ training dummy. He often told Korreth he wanted to get it over with and die.

  The Changeling guard had demanded that he eat. When he refused, the guard shoved Korreth’s face down into the broth instead.

  Korreth had gulped it up as quickly as he could. The broth plugged his nose, burned his eyes. He choked and spit, gagging as he tried to suck in air. He’d fully expected to die, drowned in two-inch deep bowl of broth.