The Last of the Ageless Page 3

  Jorrim let out a groan of frustration the third time they landed on knees and elbows.

  “Alright.” Korreth’s heart raced as the thunder amplified. “Let’s act like we’re back at the camp. Ready? Together!”

  He inched his chained foot up the slope. Then they both took a step forward with their unencumbered feet. The pebbles jumped around them, making their footing even more treacherous.

  “Together!” Korreth called, and they took a simultaneous step forward with their chained feet.

  Under their former masters, he and Jorrim had been treated as punching bags on which young Changelings practiced their fighting skills. As a result, the slaves also learned to act in coordinated pairs.

  Near the top, Korreth’s unchained foot slipped on the loose rocks, and he fell forward on one knee. Jorrim’s free hand reached solid ground, so he hauled Korreth up using the chain between their wrists. Dripping with sweat, Korreth twisted his free foot up to where he could see the lighter-colored skin of his sole. Then he ran a hand under his chained foot to determine whether he’d cut his feet, thankful that both seemed unharmed.

  The crone’s gaze lingered on the ravine. “I thought you were about to meet your maker, boys. You’re lucky you didn’t get trampled to death in the stampede.”

  “Stampede?” Jorrim asked, shaking the dust from his blond hair.

  Back in the direction from which they’d escaped, Korreth made out a brown and white mass in the ravine. As it thundered closer, he began to see the individual animals of the herd and recognized them as lithe pronghorn antelopes, an essential source of meat for most borderlands tribes.

  The crone spoke up over the roar of hundreds of hoofbeats. “The dingars scare the pronghorn and herd them out into the drylands. They always time it perfectly, so the hottest part of the day falls when the herd begins to tire.”

  Her voice grew stronger. “For mutants, dingars are fantastically intelligent predators. They let fatigue from the heat do their work for them.”

  A cloud of dust billowed up, decreasing their range of vision and bringing the scent of animal sweat with it. Korreth coughed. “So actually they are devious tricksters, preying on the weak.”

  The woman grinned at him, her face briefly haloed by her fur hood and then hidden again as she returned to admiring the roiling mass far below them.

  Korreth twitched, and the movement of the chains got Jorrim’s attention. “Do you see that?” Korreth asked, low enough the woman couldn’t hear them over the stampede.

  “What?”

  The woman’s eyes had seemed clearer, her hair darker, her skin smoother. Korreth shook his head, hoping it was just the heat getting to him. They would need to find water and shelter soon. He found the scrub in this part of the drylands encouraging. If the plants could survive, perhaps so could they.

  As though she heard his thoughts, the woman spoke up, “There’s an oasis not far from here, with shade and plenty of drinking water. Follow me.” The pile of furs moved toward the northwest.

  Korreth took a step, but paused when the chains didn’t budge.

  Jorrim’s arms and shoulders trembled with tension, his pale face reddened. “I know you heard me last time, you old hag.” Jorrim raised his voice, “We don’t take orders from you or anyone else.”

  When she faced them, she looked to Korreth first. He narrowed his eyes, putting up a united front. Few of their former masters’ slaves managed to survive the first rounds of training, and even fewer of those were Purebreeds. He and Jorrim had survived for years before escaping to warn their people about the Badlands Army’s plan to march north.

  Jorrim was right—they weren’t about to be ordered around again. Not when freedom was so new.

  “What on Earth is your malfunction?” The woman’s dark eyes narrowed, no longer filled with rheumy age.

  Despite her strange words, Korreth focused on her appearance. As she approached them, Korreth confirmed that heat exhaustion wasn’t making him see things.

  Though still matted and woven with strings of faded red and orange beads, her tangled black mane had lost any trace of white. She stood straighter, her chestnut-brown skin now soft and smooth. So smooth he wanted to step forward and touch it, almost as much as he wanted a cool cup of water.

  Her youthful voice rose above the din. “So you’ve escaped, have you? You think you’re free?” Her eyebrows drew together over those dark, deep eyes. “What good is freedom if you’re dead? Look at you!”

  And she did, her eyes sliding up from their chained ankles across their naked skin. Korreth shivered, considered covering himself again, but forced his hands to relax. She’d already seen everything. Her gaze burned into him, making him embarrassed of his nudity, his vulnerability.

  “You’re barefoot, naked, chained together, without supplies.” Her derision made Korreth want to melt into the dust beneath their feet. He trembled, trying to get a hold of himself. “How exactly do you expect to survive? You’re not free.”

  Her eyes darted between them, daring them to disagree. “You’re chained now to the needs of your bodies... the need to survive.”

  Her voice lowered, becoming gentler, like a soft cloth across the skin. “But at least you have more luck than sense.”

  She stepped closer to them, and before they could move, she put her soft hands on their chained forearms. “There’s an oasis near here, and I will share its secret with you. You can rest beneath the shade of the cottonwoods, drink, and bathe. If you but follow me.”

  She turned her back, and this time Korreth and Jorrim followed without a word.

  It took all of Korreth’s willpower not to dash toward the oasis when he spotted its trees on the horizon. The chain and the old woman’s pace helped keep him in check. Every moment under the sun felt like an eternity with the oasis so close.

  As they approached, the tranquility of the scene overcame him—the shade the taller trees cast upon the water among the rocks, the soft whispering of the grasses. Its beauty made his chest seize and his breath catch. After years of serving merciless masters, the dream of freedom crystallized in the beauty of this serene oasis.

  Jorrim let out a whoop of joy. They rushed past the woman, ambling in lockstep toward the inviting pool. As Korreth bent his knees to jump into the water, the woman’s voice rang out, “Wait!”

  Korreth and Jorrim tripped over themselves, tumbled, and fell in the soft mud along the edge. The leaves from the nearby willow trees draped into the water, and when Jorrim pushed Korreth away, the leaves tickled his back and shoulders.

  The woman stepped into the shade. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you spoiling the water before we’d all gotten to drink.”

  Without delay, Korreth and Jorrim flopped on their bellies and began slurping from the pool. As the water smoothed his rough lips, Korreth momentarily lost track of time and everything around him. The sweet liquid cooled parts of him he hadn’t noticed were hot.

  The woman bent nearby and cupped her hands into the ripples of the pool, drinking without a sound. Korreth gasped and nearly choked as she changed before his eyes.

  The years sifted from her like sands in an hourglass. She became shorter and more fragile as she drank, a girl on the cusp of womanhood, the furs enveloping her. Blinking, Korreth tried to clear his eyes of any spell. Jorrim didn’t seem surprised, however—or if he was, he hid it well.

  She gestured off to the side at several large bladders stowed among the boulders beneath the willow trees. With those full of water, they could travel many days through the drylands. Jorrim regarded them with a greedy expression, his blue eyes slow to turn toward the child when she spoke.

  “Fill them as full as you can before you bathe and spoil the water.” She giggled like a girl who had shared a silly secret with a friend. Then she went about collecting willow leaves, her small form disappearing into the deeper undergrowth.

  The mud made sucking sounds as Korreth reluctantly pulled himself away from the water. In lockstep, they
approached the bladders.

  Jorrim picked up a set of four with a harness stretched between them, and said under his breath, “I say we fill them up and then ditch the crazy Changeling.” Seeing Korreth’s expression, Jorrim shrugged. “We’ll leave her a bladder.”

  Korreth snatched the other set of bladders, leaving the unpaired ones behind. “She’s been nothing but helpful to us so far. Maybe we should find out if she can tell us the best path to the forest from here. It might help us avoid another ravine.”

  As he filled a bladder, Jorrim answered. “She’s a Changeling, though.”

  Korreth knew what he meant. They couldn’t trust her. Changelings were arrogant and contemptuous of Purebred humans. Changelings had kept Jorrim and Korreth as slaves for years.

  When they finished filling the bladders, a directionless breeze curled around Korreth. It tickled the hairs across his whole body, raising gooseflesh on his dark skin as his sweat dissipated.

  Beads clacked together. The woman—girl—carried an armful of leaves toward them. Korreth turned his back. Although she’d already witnessed their nudity, he couldn’t help himself. She was a girl, too young to look upon an adult male’s body.

  After sitting where the sand was dry, she tore the long leaves from their stems and braided them together. “Tell me your names.”

  The breeze changed. It stole the air from his lungs, and every muscle in Korreth’s body seized up, every joint locked.

  “My name is Korreth,” he gasped. As soon as he finished speaking, the tension eased out of him, the air settling. When Jorrim pronounced his own name, his muscles also went slack. He looked as startled as Korreth felt.

  “What you just experienced was the completion of a compulsion spell,” said the girl. “You will obey my commands. You will not attempt to kill me, yourselves, or each other. You will protect me from harm. You may attempt to escape, but you will never succeed. Unless I order otherwise, you will call me ‘lady’ or ‘mistress.’ In the presence of others, you may call me Soledad.”

  She closed her eyes and continued in a language Korreth had never heard. “Obliguen a los hombres a obedecerme. Si yo muriera, olviden mi autoridad, pero cuiden de ellos y curen sus heridas.” Soledad opened her eyes and glanced back and forth between the two of them. “You will obey my commands.”

  When she spoke the final word, the directionless breeze returned and washed across every surface of Korreth’s skin. Jorrim leaped toward her, which jerked Korreth forward. But before Jorrim’s hands could close around her neck, a spasm shook him. He lurched and fell to the sand, pulling Korreth down with him. They landed on knees and elbows in front of the girl, who hadn’t flinched.

  Korreth hauled himself to his feet. Of all the types of Changelings they’d had for masters, he’d never known one who could do something like this. If their old masters had possessed this kind of power… he shuddered.

  The girl smiled, looking through her thick lashes at him.

  Korreth pulled a bladder he’d somehow kept hold of in front of his hips. “What are you?”

  “Why, I’m your rescuer. I saved you from the stampede and from a long, drawn-out death in the drylands. And now you’re in my pocket.”

  Jorrim growled from the sands, “Don’t be coy, gir—mistress.” He groaned. “She’s Ageless, Korreth. She can change her age at will.”

  “So what if she is Ageless?” Korreth let his eyes burn into hers. “That definitely does not explain how she was able to do this to us.”

  “True,” Soledad said, her hands working with the leaves. “But that is not your concern. You should fill up those bladders.”

  Korreth’s muscles didn’t freeze up this time, nor did the breeze return, but for now he would humor her. He twitched the chain and then kneeled beside the pool, with Jorrim sullenly following.

  “So we’re slaves again,” Jorrim said. “I knew we shouldn’t have followed you.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to have upset your plans, but really, you would’ve died without me. What sort of plan did you have that left you chained together, naked in the drylands?” Her tone wasn’t derisive, only puzzled.

  Korreth opened his mouth to reply, but Jorrim yanked savagely on the chain to make a point: Let her order them if she wanted an answer. Korreth snapped his mouth shut and dipped the bladders into the water.

  “Look,” Soledad said, her voice changing. “Even if you had survived, you’re not far from Hellsworth territory, where you might have been hunted down just for sport. Being enslaved to a Changeling, though… that means you’re safe from Purebreed bandits and at least the lesser Changelings.”

  Korreth shook his head at her arrogance, but in truth, her words worried him. Any Changeling who could refer to others as “lesser” must be powerful. Plus, she’d been traveling alone and hadn’t feared to approach two unfamiliar men. He didn’t know what an Ageless was, but more than fleeting curiosity compelled him to learn more about her.

  After they piled the full bladders with the rest, her dark eyes turned serious and surprisingly earnest. “You may not like it, but you’ll be with me for the rest of your lives. You can’t hurt me, you can’t escape, and you can’t kill yourselves. But that doesn’t mean you should suffer. I just need your help.”

  She was shaping up to be the strangest master Korreth had served, if her innocent act proved genuine. Korreth faced his friend, and Jorrim’s eyes narrowed. Using the shorthand code they’d developed over a decade together as slaves, Jorrim tapped, Lies.

  “So,” she held up the willow leaves she’d woven together. “What do you think? Come here.”

  Korreth already felt much too close to her.

  “What is it?” Jorrim asked suspiciously.

  “A loincloth,” she said, palms up. “We’re going back out into the sun. I want you to harvest some of the meat from the fallen pronghorn, whatever the greedy dingars couldn’t stomach or drag off.”

  Korreth stared Soledad down in protest. He refused to begin a lifetime of servitude in a loincloth made out of willow leaves. If she expected him to wear it, she would have to command him to take it. He might be her slave, but he would never lose his pride.

  “I won’t stand over the two of you with a pretty parasol,” she said. “Although I can’t speak from experience, I understand a sunburn on one’s genitals can be very painful.”

  He made no move, and Soledad met his gaze, unperturbed. Of course, her bravado was due to the knowledge that no matter how much either of them wanted to strangle her, they couldn’t. Korreth settled for imagining his dark fingers wrapping around her slender neck.

  Her lips twitched into a smile. “I wish I could do better, but we hardly have time. It was either this, a codpiece, or a kilt…”

  He stared at her before snatching the thing from her hand. She gave another to Jorrim before heading off deeper into the undergrowth.

  “Kilt?” Jorrim asked, holding the woven willow leaves. “What do you suppose that is?”

  “She may use strange words, but her logic is sound.”

  Korreth had to admit she’d done well. A thick braid around the hips fell into pleats, overlapping flat leaves on the front and back. She had woven dozens of leaves together in the front, which Korreth appreciated. They would hang down in all but the strongest winds.

  He and Jorrim looped the braids around themselves and tied them off at the waist. They stared at each other. Jorrim looked ridiculous with the greenery dangling around his loins.

  Then Jorrim clapped him on the shoulder and said with a gleam in his eye, “Let’s find a way out of this.”

  Jorrim grabbed one of the sets of bladders and threw the harness across his shoulders. Together they took off toward the south. They ran with the same rolling gait that had freed them from slavery only this morning. Korreth fled with the same fear of being caught, as the trees of the oasis grew short in the distance.

  A wall of wind knocked them off their feet.

  Korreth sprawled to the pebbly ground, hi
s previously scraped knees gathering new wounds. With a mouth full of dust, he groaned.

  Together, he and Jorrim tried to drag themselves forward on their bellies, but the more Korreth struggled, the heavier the force pressing him down became. He gulped for air as Jorrim’s torso expanded, his mouth also agape. Their hands clawed at the hard, unforgiving earth.

  Korreth’s knuckles ached with his attempts to gain even another inch. He thought he heard his ribs creak. The pressure crushed him.

  He collapsed, letting his muscles relax as he took in a great gulping breath, and the weight dispelled. His face pressed into the hot earth, Korreth watched Jorrim’s fingers scrambling for freedom. At the sound of footsteps behind them, Jorrim surrendered as well, gasping.

  Pressed to the hard drylands earth, their torsos heaved while they regained their breath and their strength. Jorrim reached toward him. His pale hand briefly rested on Korreth’s dark forearm before his fingers tapped a message. Here she comes. Sorry, my friend.

  Something draped across Korreth’s back, and a bladder fell to the ground beside him. The harness’s weight made pushing himself to his elbows difficult. Korreth craned his neck around toward their new mistress.

  Soledad carried a smaller bladder in one hand, with two others tied to the furs covering her body. A shiver traveled up Korreth’s spine, despite the sun’s distance from the horizon.

  “Get up,” she said, and they did.

  Chapter 3

  Dalan’s companion called an early halt to their journey the next evening and prepared a fire from the ever-present dry scrub. They had forgone a fire the night before. “To avoid an easy ambush,” she had explained.

  After positioning the wood and tinder, Nyr pulled a small object from one of the pouches around her belt. Gripping the item in one hand, she used it to strike the first flame.

  “What’s that?” Dalan asked.

  She returned the object to the pouch as though she didn’t want him to see it. “The Ancients called it firesteel.”

  Nyr’s gaze flashed his way, her pupils elongated. He assumed she was annoyed with him, but he didn’t know why.