The Last of the Ageless (25 page)

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 pressed 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.

Korreth jumped to his feet and threw himself at her, but his legs betrayed him. He only avoided impaling his wounds on a borderlands bush because Jorrim caught him and steadied his descent to a sitting position.

The world spun.

“Now, now,” the feline said, letting her claws slowly slide out of her fingertips. “I won’t have a chance to slice you up if you startle Dalan again—he might be a little trigger-happy after that fight. Give us your weapons.”

Korreth tilted his head with effort and saw a boy and a Joey fanning out beside the feline. Despite the smaller size of the Ancient handgun the boy—Dalan—trained on them, Korreth didn’t doubt its power.

“Bastards!” Jorrim pointed his SCL at the feline. “My friend Korreth—”

“Needs help,” Dalan interrupted in a quiet voice. Korreth couldn’t believe this scrawny kid had transformed into that majestic golden beast.

“Stand down, Jorrim.” Soledad’s eyes locked onto the pendant at the Joey’s throat.

Dalan’s brown eyes drilled into them as though trying to bend them to his will. “Do as Nyr said and take us to the supplies. We don’t need the medicines, just the water. Should be more than enough supplies for the six of us, judging by how many Purebreeds were with you.”

From the corner of his eye, Korreth saw the feline—Nyr—toss a hand up in exasperation. “Hand over your weapons,” she growled.

When Jorrim tried to hand her their Ancient rifles, Nyr pointed at the Joey. Once the silver-skinned Joey gathered both rifles in her arms, Dalan waved them on.

In the early light of dawn, the taller rocks ahead were a welcome sight. Korreth and Jorrim proceeded shoulder-to-shoulder, with their mistress behind. Korreth wondered what she thought of this situation. The two Changelings flanked them on either side, while the Joey brought up the rear, carrying SCLs in both hands, their barrels pointing at the sky.

Korreth’s previous masters had used any Joeys they captured for hand-to-hand training before setting them loose for target practice with ranged weapons. It never ended well for the Joeys, despite their speed.

Korreth’s knees nearly gave out, but Jorrim wrapped an arm around him. His mind had been wandering when he needed to focus on the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other.

Nyr bared her small fangs and motioned them onward.

“While we’re walking,” Soledad said, “why don’t you tell us where your master’s hiding. Or what he intends to do with Gryid, if he’s still alive.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nyr said.

In the silence of the borderlands, the beads in Soledad’s hair clinked together. “He wants Gryid’s knowledge, of course. I know that much.”

From their other side, Dalan said, “Who is this Gryid and why should we know anything about him?”

“One of my kind, an Ageless Changeling. Your feline friend went into his village, caused mayhem, broke one of Gryid’s legs, and left him there while she took off with some loot. Meanwhile, one of your cohorts, perhaps
you
yourself, took advantage of the chaos to kidnap him. I expect you remember.”

From the dark-haired boy’s blank expression, Korreth knew his confusion might stem from the strange words peppering Soledad’s speech.

“Oh, the pathetic Ageless man.” Nyr lifted the purple pendant from her chest. Small pink dots glowed from inside it. “Now that you mention it, I
do
remember him. I broke his leg because he wouldn’t let me leave with this.”

Soledad’s voice grew deeper, and without checking, Korreth imagined she’d aged. “Take us to where Zen is holding Gryid, and we’ll spare your lives when we kill your master.”

Nyr stopped on the balls of her feet, pivoted, and slapped Soledad, knocking her to the ground. “No one’s my master, bitch.”

The wind tightened around Korreth. Jorrim exploded forward, tackling the feline and pinning her dangerous hands together.

Soledad stood up. The bloody gashes on her cheek disappeared as she shifted ages, becoming a little older than any of them. Korreth’s neck lolled without Jorrim there to support him.

“Calm down, all of you,” Dalan said, his voice worn. Korreth realized the boy was wielding the gun because his fatigue must be preventing him from transforming again. They might be able to use that to their advantage somehow. “Release her. And Nyr, mind your claws.”

“You’re not my master either, fool,” Nyr spat.

Korreth found himself hoping the feline would give his mistress another beating, the least she deserved after leading most of Mapleton’s villagers to their deaths.

“No, but I am the one with the weapon.” Dalan’s eyes narrowed. “And if I recall,
you’re
the one who brought all your furry friends down on us. Led us into a trap.”