The Last of the Ageless (59 page)

A rock rose from the grasses before him, and he padded around it, circling and ignoring the pain in his leg. He sniffed, scenting the Wizard nearby. The jaguar let out a quiet rumbling, and the Ageless stopped in his tracks. Listening through the grasses, Dalan heard the Wizard spin about, looking for him. He let him stew in his own fear as he circled.

“Find him, Joey!” The Wizard’s voice cracked.

Ti’rros had fallen completely under the Wizard’s control. None of them could escape their fate now. Dalan had to end it, and only an instant death could stop the Ageless. Gathering his resolve, he leaped from his hiding place. Three of his paws connected with the Wizard. As they fell toward the ground, Dalan dug in with his claws and then swiped at his victim’s head, snapping the Wizard’s vertebrae.

The Wizard’s body collapsed and his head bounced off the ground.

Though Dalan hoped it was over, he padded away to keep both the Wizard and Ti’rros in sight. The Wizard’s limbs splayed apart, but Ti’rros barreled toward Dalan. Her strange hairs flattened against her head, akin to human hair.

The Wizard’s neck straightened. He became younger, and his expression turned to glee as Ti’rros tackled Dalan. Keeping his claws retracted, he wriggled free, but Ti’rros caught him by the same back leg Zen had. Dalan growled and slashed at her. She released him as red dripped from the gashes on her upper arm.

The Wizard clapped his hands. “Looks like a stalemate.” Then his eyes lit up. “Let’s give this a try.”

The Wizard closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Ti’rros dropped as though someone had bashed her over the back of the head.

Something enveloped Dalan’s mind. Then a familiar voice whispered,
Dalan, can you hear me? It’s Caetl. You have to stop fighting him.

Caetl? Thought you were…

You have to surrender, Dalan. There’s no use fighting.

The Wizard’s eyes bulged and stared at him—through him. The Ageless dropped to his knees, his hands in fists beside his temples. Saquey circled around him twice before hovering in front of Dalan’s face. The dragonfly circled the Wizard again.

Dalan’s tail swished in the grasses.
Caetl, you’re doing it. Take him down.

That’s right, Dalan.
Caetl’s warm voice grew stronger.
It’s safe to go back to your human form now.

No, I’ve got to kill him. It’s the only way to keep everyone safe.

Something tickled, and an image from Saquey appeared and disappeared before he could register its message.

Listen to me, Dalan. I’ve got him under control.
Caetl’s voice warped.
Do as I say.
It didn’t sound like the mystic anymore.

Saquey circled the Wizard, faster and faster.

Dalan’s heart twisted in his chest as realization hit him. Caetl was nothing more than the Wizard’s puppet. The Wizard had gotten through the mystic’s barriers and then through him to Dalan.

Dalan roared, launching himself at the man before him. The Wizard sidestepped and spun, and Saquey rose into the sky.

DO AS I SAY!

Ti’rros gained her feet. An unfamiliar feeling of pure hatred coursed through Dalan’s veins, restoring all the energy he’d lost and more.

This is your final warning,
said the voice that was not Caetl’s.
I know what you’re going to do before you do—

Dalan lunged, and the Wizard threw himself backward. The tips of his claws caught the Wizard’s ankle. Before he could sink his claws in for a better grip, Ti’rros smashed her tail over Dalan’s head.

The world faded.

When Dalan could see again, the Wizard had disappeared into the grasses, leaving Ti’rros behind. Her tail swung toward Dalan again, but he crouched, and it passed overhead.

OBEY ME, AND I WILL LET HER LIVE.

The words assaulted his mind, and Dalan let out a roar of agony. As his mind cracked, he finally understood what Ti’rros and Nyr had fought through while Caetl defended them.

Ti’rros crushed the grasses as she fell, the hairs on her head succumbing to gravity. He wondered if using Caetl to torture them instead of the amplifier had consequences the Wizard might not have considered.

Oh, I’ve considered them. I just don’t CARE. I’m a mystic now.

Dalan struggled to maintain control, as the jaguar wanted to lash out at his fallen foe, the Joey. This reminded Dalan of something Caetl had once said, “What you did is perfect. The Wizard will never see it coming.”

Though he feared for Ti’rros’s safety, Dalan had no choice but to let the jaguar take over. The human part of his mind huddled in mental and emotional pain, something the jaguar part didn’t try to comprehend.

The jaguar raised his head, sniffing the wind. The silver-skinned creature gave off a curious mixture of foreign and familiar scents, not quite prey. Beyond her, the jaguar sensed his original prey. He trotted toward the Wizard, who started running.

The jaguar caught up to him and swatted at his legs. When the Wizard tried to dodge his strike, the jaguar tackled him and bore him to the ground.

Something snapped as they landed together. The Wizard aged and tried to unseat him, but the jaguar sank his claws into his prey’s shoulders. The scream tore through Dalan’s head, making him reel in agony, but he kept his prey pinned as his human thoughts resurfaced.

The Wizard would never surrender. The mystic was dead because of this man. Worse than dead—Caetl’s identity, his very being, had ceased to exist.

Dalan wanted blood, wanted death, wanted to destroy everything that made the Wizard human.

Screams and demands echoed inside Dalan’s head as the Wizard voiced his fear, having seen his thoughts. The pain inside his skull ratcheted up, and Dalan steeled himself.

He put both paws on the Wizard’s shoulders and leaned in. As his jaws closed around the man’s head, he couldn’t resist the righteous pleasure he took in the Wizard’s screams.

The grinding crunch that followed seemed to silence the world.

Dalan opened his mouth. Bits of skull and brain matter oozed off his tongue. He’d killed someone deliberately, horribly. This time, though, he didn’t feel revulsion, or even guilt.

His vision blurry, Dalan stared at Ti’rros on the ground, unmoving. Blood dripped from her arm into the grasses, and her silver chest rose and fell with breath.

Nyr’s scream of agony and horror brought sound back into Dalan’s world.

The last of his energy dissipated. He fell off his victim, and found himself sliding toward birth form. The thirst hit him, but all his canteens were empty.

His head pounded as his body writhed with the transmeld. When he’d finished, he reached through the grasses to Ti’rros’s face. Though Saquey blocked his sight with a vision, the steady breath on his skin reassured him that Ti’rros lived.

He rolled on his back in the grasses, hands to his chest. He couldn’t get enough air, his pulse throbbing far too quickly in his ears.

From Saquey’s eyes, he watched as the others trod toward him. Korreth lifted Nyr to her feet. Blood smeared one side of her smooth face, and he stooped to put her bruised and bloodied arm around his shoulders. A red-haired man checked Caetl’s bloody form, and Dalan blinked the vision away, unwilling to acknowledge what he’d seen.

He sat up, fighting dizziness, and watched the four figures approach with his own eyes—his true eyes. His birth form lacked substance, like a dry leaf. He’d wrung every drop of moisture from his body he could without serious consequences, but it left him weakened.

Ti’rros sat up beside him and put a hand to her head. He took it as a good sign that the strange hairs on her head undulated upright again. Her eyes wandered over his face and down to his chest.

A cord around his neck weighed Dalan down. He closed his fingers around the talisman and yanked upward, but it stopped where it always had. Inside, the dots still glowed, symbols of their slavery.

Wearing the same type of necklace, the red-haired man neared. Blood and gore coated his lower half, and Dalan wondered who he’d killed and how, to get so much gore on himself. His eyes met Dalan’s, but he kneeled silently beside the Wizard. Then he retched in the grasses nearby.

Korreth’s and Jorrim’s gazes slid from the corpse and away from Dalan. Blood covered the Purebreeds from head to toe. They let Nyr slump into the grasses and feigned worry for her.

Around his swollen tongue, Dalan said, “Suppose the two of you are free men now.” His own voice sounded foreign to him.

Neither of the Purebreeds responded. From the corner of his eye, Dalan saw Ti’rros freeze. He cursed himself for transmelding back into his birth form when he saw the mysterious red-haired man holding the amplifier.

He tried to add enough of the jaguar to his form to absorb the necklace, but that feeble attempt cost him all of his remaining energy. He collapsed beside Nyr.

Time stretched until Dalan couldn’t remember what he’d been afraid of. What was everyone so worried about? The world grew darker.

Korreth lunged toward the man. “Gryid, what are you—”

“Stop.” The red-haired man held out his free hand.

“No Ageless orders us around anymore,” Korreth said. “And we won’t let you enslave them either.”

Jorrim raised his Ancient weapon. “You can’t do this, Gryid.”

Dalan couldn’t find the strength to sit back up, so he watched them from where he was, the grasses framing his field of vision. His heartbeat seemed uncontrollably fast.

“After what you saw me do back there,” Gryid gestured toward Searchtown, “Do you really think I would? I know a decent bit about Ancient K’inTesh technology. I might be able to figure it out.” Gryid grabbed his purple necklace in his other hand. “I figured out how to make myself immune to the amplification after—”

“If there’s one thing we’ve learned,” Jorrim interrupted, his eyes narrowed, “it’s that not everyone can be trusted with the power the Ancients possessed, including Ancient alien technology.”

“Especially the Ancients themselves,” Korreth added.

Dalan’s gaze wandered beyond the people standing over him up to the All-Seeing Eye, sparkling in the skies overhead. In his mind, he begged its forgiveness. Though the Ancient Teachings might condone vengeance, he’d taken too much pleasure from the Wizard’s suffering.

Then he remembered his tribe’s beliefs about the Ancients were wrong. What did that mean for the pinnacle of his people’s beliefs, the All-Seeing Eye? He felt hollow.

A chill came over him as he recalled Caetl staring up at the sky, his lips moving, voice droning on and on.

They’re still up there. I know they are. They’re still up there.

Chapter 33

Once they’d added the final stone to Caetl’s cairn, Korreth stepped away to give Dalan some space. Of them all, the boy had taken the mystic’s death hardest. Dalan turned his chin up to the darkened sky, his expression haunted in the firelight.

Korreth faced the funeral pyre the townspeople had constructed for their Advisor. They’d buried the Wizard and Zen in two unmarked holes situated far from Searchtown, at the edge of the pyre’s halo.

In the darkness, Korreth barely discerned Jorrim helping to pour dirt over the bodies, talking all the while with Edanna. Closer to Caetl’s cairn, Nyr and Ti’rros recovered underneath a tent the townspeople had assembled some distance from the destroyed section of Searchtown’s wall. Dalan’s dragonfly perched on top of the tent, watching over them all.

Despite the grim surroundings, Korreth took a moment to enjoy the crisp air of the grasslands and the sound of crickets everywhere around him. He was free. He could return home at last.

Taking a deep breath, he winced at the tinge in his ribs. The nanotech hadn’t yet finished its work.

A man left the group tending Zen’s grave. With the fire behind him, Korreth couldn’t see his face at first. Then he recognized Yarren, one of the guards who’d escorted them through Searchtown. “They’re unnatural.”

“What?” Korreth met him away from the tent, guessing the Purebred man would speak more freely away from the Changeling and the Joey—hybrid, he reminded himself.

“The large man was covered in metal parts,” Yarren shifted from foot to foot. “He defiled his own body. And the other is slowly… I don’t know what to call it. He’s growing younger, minute by minute, though we’re sure he’s dead.”

“Surely the Advisor de-aged as well,” Korreth pointed out.

Yarren turned away. “I wanted to let you know... unfortunately, Governor Lozoya has decided that we cannot allow you back into the city. You understand, don’t you? There’s been a lot of structural damage. It’s not safe.”

Korreth narrowed his eyes, guessing there was more to it than that. “I’ll tell the others.”

Yarren let out a breath and smiled. “Thank you. And thank you for all that you did…” He gestured toward the two holes.

“Of course. They were a danger to us all.”

“We’ll bring you some food and supplies. For your travels.”

“Thank you.”

When Yarren walked away, Korreth joined Nyr and Ti’rros. A healer tended to Ti’rros, wrapping her tail over and over with gauze. A splint supported Nyr’s arm, wrapped to double its size in gauze.