The Last of the Ageless (16 page)

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.

Korreth only managed to gasp because his chainmate objected. He hated to remember how weak he’d been, but he’d suffered through a brutal training session earlier in the day, when Changeling recruits forbidden to use their powers learned to work as a team.

The guard had lorded over Korreth’s chainmate, demanding he drink the next bowl of broth. To demonstrate what would happen if he didn’t obey, the guard had broken Korreth’s nose. The other slave relented, and the guard forced him to drink bowl after bowl of broth, something most slaves would’ve killed for.

During the recruits’ afternoon practice, Korreth faced lightning-throwing Changelings. As the recruits learned to work as a team, their dummies suffered shock after shock.

Korreth’s screaming only made his face and nose hurt worse. At last he understood his chainmate’s willingness to die. He didn’t fear death anymore—he feared surviving another round of the Changelings’ training.

Near mid-day, Soledad called a halt, pulling Korreth from his reminiscing. The three of them shared dried meat, berries, and crusty bread left over from what the villagers had provided. This time, Soledad also dug out a cloth, peeled an edge back, and broke off a slab of what looked to Korreth like dried mortar. She handed a piece to each of them and then took some herself.

“Well, eat up. I want you boys strong for whatever may be ahead.” She pulled a tattered map from between some folds in her Ancient clothing and studied it.

Weary and heartsick, Korreth found himself staring at her, wondering how she managed to hide so many items on her person. He suspected it had something to do with how her clothing could grow and shrink as she changed ages.

Soledad’s hair beads clacked as her chin tipped toward him. “Set your teeth to eating and your eyes to blinking, spiritless one.”

Korreth took a big bite and immediately regretted it. Dry and gritty, the food tasted unlike anything else he’d eaten, as though he’d picked up a chunk of dense dirt to chew on. And its salty aftertaste lingered.

Noticing his distaste, Soledad smiled. Her voice cracked. “Back in my day we called it a ‘vitamin bar.’ It’ll help keep you constant. Now let’s get some rest.”

Jorrim spoke through his final bite of food, “Tell us more about ‘whatever may be ahead,’ and I bet we’ll protect you better than otherwise.”

She pulled her boots off and stretched her toes. “It’s been many… decades, since I came this way. I don’t exactly remember what Cerrit’s powers are, either.”

Jorrim snorted and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If you want us to help protect you, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

“As I said, it’s been decades, so for all I know, Cerrit could have hundreds of loyal followers who want to do his bidding in exchange for learning his magic.”

“And? What kind of magic is that?” Jorrim prodded.

“If I recall correctly, his study was in projectile weapons, so maybe he wouldn’t need many followers. But Cerrit was always one of the conservative ones… They’re all for burying our knowledge, hiding it away, certainly never studying it. Which is preposterous, since other tribes besides the Ageless may have their own, similar knowledge.” She trailed off, as though lost in thought, “Hiding it away won’t necessarily protect anyone.”

Jorrim rose to his feet, looming over her. “So you’re just going to send us in there, telling us nothing useful, and expect us to protect you from—what? The unknown? The big bogeyman, who just so happens to be one of your own kind? A kid could run past me in the woods, and when I turn around, he’d be a full-grown man about to club me in the face! That’s all I know about the enemy. How about sharing something that’s actually useful?”

Korreth cringed, unsure if Jorrim was actually angry or just trying to get a rise out of her. The wind rustled through the dry leaves of a nearby tree, not much taller than Jorrim. Then Soledad exhaled, and Korreth did as well, unaware until then he’d been holding his breath.

“Sit down,” Soledad said.

Jorrim abruptly complied.

Soledad became an older, authoritative woman. When she grew taller, the gray-green fabric didn’t seem to stretch, but grew with her.

Her voice tinged with anger, she said, “You’re being ridiculous. I’ve wheedled my way into more tribes than you’ve seen in your lifetime, boy. I’ve tricked more mothers into taking me in as a lost orphan—fooled more men into thinking me a helpless girl lost in the woods—convinced more teenagers I was a confused elder in need of assistance, than you’ve even
met
. You’re cocky, arrogant,
young
. You think you can take on the world? Don’t try to play
me
. What you’re really wondering is what kind of power I hold over you.”

She stood in her stockings, and Korreth’s stomach dropped to the level of his knees. He found his mouth open, searching for words to diffuse the situation, to defend his friend. But Soledad held a hand up to forestall his arguments.

Jorrim’s eyes glittered.

Soledad took a breath. “Stand up.”

Jorrim did so, immediately.

“Go over to that tree. Climb it.” Her voice full of authority, she watched Jorrim march to the tree with an economy of motion befitting a soldier in an army.

The branches groaned under Jorrim’s weight. He surmounted the sturdier lower branches and kept climbing. The upper branches drooped, and then the trunk of the tree bent. When Jorrim reached the pinnacle, the tree bowed over, and Jorrim fell to the ground. He immediately pushed himself up and climbed the tree again.

“Stop. Stand in front of us,” Soledad said, before he could get halfway up the trunk. Jorrim jumped down and stood equidistant from the two of them. Korreth went cold as Jorrim's eyes met his. This was different than before.

Jorrim was her puppet.

“Sit down. Now stand up. Sit down again. Run around that tree.” Though her voice carried amusement, anger smoldered in her eyes. “Stop. Sit down. Stand up. Now do five jumping jacks.”

Korreth didn’t even know what a jumping jack was, but Jorrim’s body snapped into motion, his feet widening beyond shoulder width apart and his hands going out over his head, forming an X shape. Then he snapped his hands and feet against his body like a soldier at attention.

When he’d done it five times, Soledad paused as though considering her next command. Jorrim’s chest heaved, his eyes staring down at his left arm. The vein at his temple throbbed as he tried to move.

“Sit down and put your feet behind your head.”

Jorrim plopped to the ground and twisted one foot behind his head. He steadied himself with one hand while attempting the same with his other foot. His muscular thighs strained, and the cords in his neck stood out. He groaned, the sweat soaking his blond hair flat against his head.

His struggles made him fall face-first in the dirt, but he still tried until Soledad said, “Enough. Now come over here and punch Korreth in the stomach until I tell you to stop.”

Korreth gasped as Jorrim got to his feet, unsure of what to do. Since she hadn’t commanded Korreth to do anything, he could obey her implicit order to take the punches, or…

He dashed away, and Jorrim followed. Before they could go far, their mistress bade them stop. Korreth jerked to a halt, the air compressing his body as though the wind itself wanted to crush him. He heard Jorrim’s breathing not far behind him.

Time stretched. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.

Then Korreth heard Soledad’s footsteps. The sweat droplet traveled between his eyebrows, but he couldn’t move to wipe it away. Soledad crossed into his range of vision just as the droplet rolled off the side of his nose and thankfully onto his cheek rather than into his eye.

Her face devoid of expression, she said, “Jorrim… strangle Korreth to death.”

Korreth gasped, but could do nothing else. He couldn’t see Jorrim, but at any moment, his friend’s hands would wrap around his neck. He struggled to break the spell, to no avail.

He closed his eyes and waited.

A girlish giggle made him reopen them. Soledad laughed, bent over double, the shawl falling around her small body like a cape. She waved her hand, and Korreth felt his muscles relax. The terrible spell was broken.

“You are… insane,” Jorrim said between breaths.

The girl grinned as she met Korreth’s eyes. “Don’t worry, Korreth. He couldn’t kill you, even if I commanded him to do so a thousand different ways. No order I give can countermand my original spell. Don’t you remember? You can’t attempt to kill me, yourselves, or each other.”

Korreth tried to take a deep breath, expanding his chest after the crushing vice of the wind. But his breathing remained shallow, quick. Fear clutched at his lungs.

Soledad smiled, and then gazed past him at Jorrim. “Well, does that answer your question?”

Korreth stepped aside. Jorrim’s pale cheeks reddened as he lowered his eyes. “Yes, mistress.”

At nightfall, Korreth awakened to Soledad prodding him with her foot.

“We need to get moving.”

“We’ve only slept a few hours,” Jorrim mumbled as he rolled over.

“Get up,” Soledad said. Korreth and Jorrim rose to sitting positions. “We have to get there by morning. If Cerrit’s still alive, we need to keep him that way and get him onf our side.”

“Our side?” Jorrim scratched his now-full beard.

“Let’s go.” Soledad slung a small bag across her shoulder.

They trekked through the night. In the grasslands, a larger variety of boulders, dense bushes, and tree roots made the going slow. Korreth’s mood worsened with every step.

By morning, they came upon a two-story cabin at the edge of the forest. A tall tree stood guard at each of its four corners while a few people milled around outside. Korreth also heard people’s voices from either the other side of the cabin or inside of it.

Soledad aged, still youthful but not delicate like her teenage self, and old enough to know the ways of the world. “Prepare yourselves,” Soledad warned. “We’re going to be the mercenaries Cerrit contacted to protect him, though I’m guessing we’ve come too late.”

Without weapons or armor?
Jorrim tapped, and Korreth wondered why he didn’t say it out loud. Perhaps yesterday’s events had caused him to rethink challenging their mistress.

A voice boomed from inside the cabin, “Cerrit, what I’m saying is I want an alliance.”

Loud and powerful, the voice made the entire field go still as small rodents and birds decided whether to freeze or flee.

“What...” Jorrim’s eyes widened.

The door banged open, and a few figures raced from the cabin, headed toward the northern forest with children in tow. Korreth shifted his weight from foot to foot in the ankle-high grasses, wondering if lack of sleep had dulled his senses. He wasn’t ready for a fight, if it came to that.

A much smaller, normal male voice replied, “You just want my weapons cache, and I think we both know what the Prophet would have to say about that.”

Soledad whispered, “We’ve got to get closer.”

Korreth’s heart raced as she calmly strode toward the cabin, head high in true Changeling fashion. Korreth imagined Jorrim’s exasperated expression mirrored his own as they both waded past several tall bushes.