by Traci Loudin
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.”
Nyr’s fur stood on end. “I saved your lives!” Her attention focused on Dalan, despite Jorrim pinning her body to the ground. From Jorrim’s expression, Korreth knew her lack of concern irked him.
Soledad nodded to Jorrim, who released Nyr and skipped back. Without taking his eyes off her, he moved to support Korreth again. The two of them stood back from the three Changelings, all bristling with anger like animals trying to establish a pecking order.
Korreth grinned, and then felt a tap on his good shoulder. We’re lucky if they kill our mistress before we can protect her.
I doubt they can, Korreth tapped back on Jorrim’s forearm, eyes on the boy. He’s tired and can’t use his power. It explains the gun.
Good for us.
Maybe.
We can attack the feline together, and we know how to handle a Joey.
So far, the Joey hadn’t said anything, but she’d noticed them tapping. The silver-skinned humanoid stepped forward and motioned Korreth and Jorrim apart, then told her companions, “There is no time for that. These two are planning something. It’s for the best if we keep moving.”
Dalan nodded, his eyes still lingering on Nyr. “Keep moving.”
The feline glared but flanked them as they trudged onward. Whenever Korreth and Jorrim moved too close together, the Joey would push Jorrim away, drawing the Changelings’ attention. Korreth watched his left foot cross in front of his right, trying to avoid tripping on anything. If he fell, he might not get back up.
He wondered how they might use the group’s divisiveness to their advantage. The felines had not only attacked the villagers, but also Dalan and the Joey. And if the pair hadn’t joined Nyr in attacking Mapleton, then how and when had these strange companions come together? Korreth had never seen Joeys voluntarily traveling with non-Joeys in his life.
All three wore similar oval pendants, their only commonality. They denied being Zen’s pawns, but what else could explain the slave collars? Korreth’s mind spun as he tried to sort out the implications, but his thoughts moved at the speed of snails.
Soledad beat him to the idea. “You spirited fools don’t even know you’re being used, do you?”
Nyr snorted. Korreth didn’t need to see the Joey’s reaction—they always looked expressionless to him anyway. None of the three said anything in response.
“Zen’s using those slave collars to control you, to watch you, to track you. Don’t you understand that’s why he sent you to attack Gryid?”
Nyr’s chuckle sounded forced. “Keep your crazy theories to yourself.”
Korreth’s footsteps grew heavier. He dared not look back to see what kind of a trail he was leaving. If they didn’t find the mule soon, he might bleed out. He hoped Jorrim wouldn’t blame himself.
Time stretched, but soon the morning light washed across the borderlands, making the shadows of small trees and rocks enormous. The mule appeared in the distance, its image wavering in the early heat.
Nyr sprinted forward to the beast. It tried to escape, but Waylen had tied it properly. It brayed in fear. The Joey joined her in rummaging through the various bags tied to the animal’s back, leaving Dalan to watch their prisoners. He motioned them to stop a short distance away from the mule.
Jorrim’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you say that?”
Their mistress rubbed her hands up and down her arms but said nothing.
Dalan tilted the gun, motioning them toward one of the few scraggly trees tall enough to offer shade. “Sit and don’t cause any trouble.” He glanced toward the rocks, but his gaze didn’t linger.
“We are slaves.” Korreth motioned toward their mistress. Keeping the conversation going might garner the boy’s sympathy. “Soledad’s slaves.”
Dalan nodded. “Thought you must be following orders, with the way you stood at the edge of the battle. Your shots were too accurate for you to have been standing there out of fear or inability. One of you nearly got me once.” The young man raised a hand, and a giant dragonfly zoomed across the sky above them.
Jorrim crouched, ready to attack, but the Joey had their SCLs. And Korreth could barely stand, let alone fight. He motioned Jorrim to stand down. Dalan watched as Korreth tapped, He says we get healing supplies. Means we live… if we don’t piss them off.
Or he tricks us.
He shook his head. For a being who could shift and hide his true form, Dalan’s speech seemed honest. Korreth judged him to be trustworthy. Much more trustworthy than any other Changelings that Korreth had known, anyway.
“We escaped our former masters to warn our people that the recruits we helped train will soon march north,” he told Dalan. “But she doesn’t care about any of that. She got all those villagers killed.”
Soledad’s eyes went to the wound at Korreth’s stomach. “You’re delusional.” She took a step toward Dalan. “We need to bandage Korreth up right away.”
Dalan nodded. “Ti’rros, got enough?” The Joey held up some foodstuffs and slung a satchel over her silver shoulder. Her tail bent at an angle, suggesting something heavy in the satchel—like water—weighed her down. “Good enough. Let’s go.”
Jorrim dropped into a fighting stance.
“And what do you suggest we do with them?” Unfazed by his reaction, Nyr’s voice was laced with contempt.
Dalan shrugged, his gaze sliding down to Korreth’s wound. “Let them have the healing supplies like I promised. You,” he pointed at Soledad, “don’t try to attack us or give these two any stupid orders to attack us after we leave.”
As Nyr walked away, she called over her shoulder, “You’re an idiot.”
Dalan shook his head. “Will be busy fixing up this one’s wounds anyway.”
Korreth whispered to their mistress, “They’re showing mercy. Let’s avoid doing anything to change their minds.”
Jorrim agreed. “Don’t get us killed like you did those villagers.”
Nyr’s ears twitched. “That’s right, Purebreed,” she said over her shoulder. “If you attacked, we’d only slaughter you, which is what anyone intelligent would do instead of leaving you alive.”
Dalan’s gaze lingered on the two slaves as his companions strode off. He faced Jorrim. “Clean his wounds as much as possible with water and give them air if you can, to heal faster.”
Then the Changeling caught up to the Joey, who passed him some of the supplies as well as their SCLs.
Dalan whispered, “Left enough water for the Purebreeds?”
At an unconcerned pace, their three former captors left them behind. Jorrim and Soledad moved toward the mule to assess their supplies, while Korreth leaned against the tree, its small trunk pressing uncomfortably into his back. He watched as the silhouettes of the two Changelings and the Joey grew wobbly in the rising heat of the morning.
Almost out of sight, Dalan dropped the long-barreled weapons to the ground. Then he waved, and a tiny dot swooped overhead.
The figures tilted on the horizon. Korreth started to comment on Dalan’s kindness, leaving the SCLs so they could protect themselves against nomads and bandits. But the words wouldn’t come.
The world slanted. He heard Jorrim shout.
Korreth slumped to the side, and then he heard nothing at all.
Chapter 13
You did the right thing, the voice told Dalan. There was no way you could have released them, other than to kill her. She holds them with magic.
Dalan didn’t understand how the Ageless woman had any power over the two men, considering her only Changeling power seemed to be aging. Watching her appearance move forward and backward through time had fascinated him.
Nyr’s words interrupted his thoughts. “We should have put those weaklings out of their misery and taken everything.”
“Would have been against the Teachings,” Dalan answered by rote.
“Yes, well, only the strong survive.”
When Saquey showed Dalan his distance from the two Purebreeds and their Changeling master, Dalan dropped their rifles on the ground and lifted his arm as a signal. “Apparently intelligence and resourcefulness don’t equate to ‘strong’ in your way of thinking. Managed to escape the battle without any of your family following them.”
“They weren’t my family.” Nyr wiped her face with some of the medicinal cloths she’d taken from the mule.
Dalan glanced at Ti’rros. His head full of spidersilk, he’d already forgotten what he’d said, but the Joey didn’t give any indication that she understood, either. Dalan stepped on a small stone and nearly turned his ankle. “What?”
“My mother was a lioness. Her long-time mate was also of Lion Clan, so many of my siblings were also Lion Clan. But she’d also tussled with a man from the Cheetah Clan. It was some surprise to them all that I turned out to be a tigress like my great grandmother.”
Dalan blinked. He didn’t know what to think of Nyr revealing anything about herself to him. He thought back to the unexpected fight, and how she’d redirected her clanmates’ ferocity toward the Purebreeds. “So betraying your clanmates was easy. None of them are—were—related to you.”
Nyr growled. “That’s not what I meant.” But she didn’t elaborate.
They slowly curved westward, trudging toward the grasslands, weighed down by weapons confiscated from fallen enemies and supplies taken from the two Purebreeds and their mistress.
Dalan couldn’t transmeld again on the heels of so many other melds. If any of the Tiger Clan had survived and decided to follow them, he hoped Nyr and Ti’rros could handle them. His breath came in small but quick gasps, and he knew he faced dehydration.
The Joey lapsed back into her customary silence, but Nyr’s quiet bothered Dalan. He wanted to ask why she’d done what she’d done, but he was too tired to figure out how to phrase the question… or to deal with the response. Even Saquey seemed subdued, matching Dalan’s pace and flying in a straight line rather than circling.
He found his thoughts wandering. He remembered how his tail had connected with one of the Purebreeds, snapping his neck. The dam Dalan had built against the floodwaters of his emotions broke. Again he’d killed someone acting in accordance with the Ancient Teachings. Again he’d cleared the way for Nyr’s escape from vengeance. And he hadn’t performed death rites or asked the Purebreed’s spirit for forgiveness.
After the sun had moved noticeably overhead, Dalan called for a stop. Even his skin felt dry. “Need to find some shade.”
“No. We need to at least make it to the grasslands. They may be following us.”
Exhausted on multiple levels, Dalan’s anger ignited in the noonday heat. “The ‘weakling’ Purebreeds, or the clanmates you brought down on us?”
“I didn’t—”
“Really? Saquey showed me what happened while I was asleep.”
The dragonfly buzzed closer at the sound of its name.
Maybe it’s time you left them behind again.
The words echoed his thoughts so completely, Dalan barely recognized the voice as the necklace’s.
Nyr narrowed her eyes. “It’s more complicated than your stupid bug can understand! Stay out o
f this, trinket!”
Dalan responded as well. “None of us need your advice, necklace. Either Nyr can tell us what happened—”
“Yes, they wanted to kill you both, alright?” Nyr’s eyes flicked to Ti’rros, the first time Dalan had noticed her treating the Joey like she mattered. “I told you that. I told you they would try to kill you. I told you to take advantage of the distraction. Don’t you remember?”
Dalan said nothing. Instead, he collapsed beside a twisted tree, its bole wider than its height. Dropping everything he carried, he loosened his shirt, trying to let some air flow across his skin. The others could stop, or not. Dalan pulled out some pilfered supplies and sent a mental command to Saquey to scout the area for potential threats.
Ti’rros sat down next to him. She rubbed a damp cloth across a few shallow red cuts on her shoulder, the rest of her beautiful silver skin unmarred.
Nyr paced in the sun, her various necklaces bouncing with each stilted step. Fighting the nausea caused by his dehydration, Dalan unwrapped a biscuit. When he looked up, she’d lost her fur. Sunlight radiated off her long red hair and fair skin. Blood had dried on her skin and clothes, but when she put a hand to her side, her fingers came back wet with fresh blood.
“Dammit.” She lifted the edge of her shirt and poured a little water over her upper hip. “Lucky I didn’t leave all the bandages with those worthless Purebreeds.”
Ti’rros opened the satchel she’d carried and tossed a bandage and tape Nyr’s way. Her kindness made Dalan wonder if the Joey had decided she owed her life to Nyr as well as to him.
Ti’rros watched Nyr bandage her wound, then got up to help her tape it on. “It is unfortunate so many died just for a distraction.”
Dalan remembered when Ti’rros had said she would’ve preferred to die than be saved by non-Joeys. Perhaps getting to know him had changed her opinion of their kind.
Nyr clenched her teeth as the Joey’s silver fingers smoothed the tape over her skin. “They wanted to kill you both and take the trinkets around your necks—no chance I could turn them from that idea. But I swear to you—” Her eyes flicked over to Dalan. “I was already trying to figure out how to get you both out, even as I led them to you.”