The Last of the Ageless

by Traci Loudin

  A hint of a smile crept onto the dark-skinned man’s face. The pale man’s blue eyes scanned the crowd of villagers behind them with a neutral expression. He held his gun at shoulder level, ready to fire.

  “If you could convince them of that as well, we’d be all set,” the Ageless said, motioning toward the villagers.

  “I’m afraid there’s no time for that,” Caetl said. “We need to leave and regroup.”

  She shook her head. “We must defeat Zen.”

  Her two slaves stepped back, balking at her words. Dalan guessed they’d seen the cyborg tossing him around like a child’s toy.

  “I don’t disagree with you there,” Caetl said. “But we can’t fight the villagers and Zen.”

  Dalan hated the thought of leaving the villagers behind to be slaughtered, but Nyr and the others had tried to convince them to leave, and so far most of them hadn’t listened. Why they held their borderland homes dearer than their lives, he couldn’t fathom.

  He glanced back toward the village and saw stealthy movement beside a flattened hut. Nyr and Ti’rros made their way along the perimeter of the village, leading horses behind.

  Dalan sent Saquey in search of Zen. The dragonfly showed him strutting toward Wizard’s hut, where he proceeded to pound on the walls. With enough time, the giant would find a way in.

  “Wizard!” the cyborg’s voice boomed, drowning out all other sounds. “All I want to do is talk. I have a proposition for you. It could mean the future of our race. Or our tribe, whatever you prefer to call us. Wizard? I thought of all the Ageless, you might understand.”

  Zen’s voice paused, as though listening to what the other Ageless had to say. Then he let out a frustrated roar. “If you won’t come out, I’m not going to waste time tearing your hut down like some wolf in a fairy tale. I’ll just take away your energy source and disable your force fields instead!”

  Saquey showed Zen heading toward the three strange trees behind Wizard’s hut. He stopped beside one, and his hands lashed out to grasp its spinning arms. Then he twisted his body and tore the fan off like the head of a flower from its stem.

  “We’re too late,” Dalan heard the Ageless woman say. He shook his head and let the vision fade.

  “And here I wanted to be the one to kill him.” Nyr, no longer a cat, swung up into a saddle.

  She eyed the two slaves suspiciously before handing the other two horses’ reins off to them. A small toddler clutched at the pale man’s neck; it took Dalan a second to recognize her as their Ageless mistress.

  “If the amplifier falls into Zen’s hands…” Ti’rros said.

  Villagers charged them, knocking the Joey down, and Dalan lost sight of her in the press of bodies.

  He was about to wade in himself when Caetl shouted, “Duard, you know me. I’m your friend. Ishan, leave us be! This golden horse is a Changeling, the jaguar who tried to draw the giant away for you. You’ve got big enough problems on your hands without making more enemies!”

  A Changeling with a crest of feathers sprouting from her forehead yelled, “Please help us fight the giant!” but two other women chastised her.

  Ti’rros freed herself with a sweep of her tail and a blind shot into the crowd. Blue lightning rippled over the bodies of multiple villagers, making a young woman shriek in agony. Nyr dug her heels into her mount’s flanks, and they all dashed after her.

  Gunshots rang out behind them, and the two slaves fired from the backs of their horses at the villagers. Dalan hated the thought of any more of the hapless villagers dying due to a misunderstanding.

  I know, Caetl said in his mind. They’re people I’ve known for years, but it can’t be helped at this point.

  A familiar buzzing followed them. The dragonfly zipped upward and zigzagged back and forth to avoid being hit. Dalan’s joints ached as he trailed behind the horses, falling behind due to Caetl’s weight on his back. Ti’rros kept pace with him, occasionally glancing over.

  Eventually, Caetl called out, “Stop. Let’s rest a moment.”

  Dalan’s front knees buckled, and he collapsed to the dusty ground.

  Chapter 23

  From his vantage point in the rear of his hut, Liang watched his people throw themselves against the cyborg. His hopes rose, only to be dashed as Zen picked up Ishan and Shujaa and bashed their horned skulls against the outside walls of his hut.

  Liang couldn’t believe it—after all his preparations: setting around-the-clock loyal servants to guard his home, improving his force-field technology, sending powerful Changelings out to fight—nothing mattered. Zen had killed Liang’s guards, scared off his collared pawns, and destroyed his windmills.

  “Wizard, use your magic and help us,” Siman yelled as he charged Zen with a spear in his hand. The cyborg ripped it from his grasp. As Siman stumbled back, Zen pierced his chest with the spear. Blood gushed from Siman’s mouth, and Liang trembled.

  Every time Zen swung, a villager went flying. But one man survived the chaos. Thanks to his extra eyes, Azaiah saw Omun flying through the air toward him and dodged out of the way. Omun’s screams ceased when he hit the ground face-first.

  That left Azaiah. He fired round after round at Zen, to no avail. The bullets ricocheted while Zen grinned, blood dripping down his face. Azaiah’s weapon clicked out of bullets, and Liang’s heart sank.

  But Azaiah’s tail whipped up with another gun, which he also discharged until empty. When he ran out, he didn’t flee. Instead, he charged straight at the cyborg, who stepped back as though preparing to catch a football.

  “Stop,” Liang found himself saying. Azaiah had been loyal to the end. He didn’t deserve this. “Stop! Spare him, Zen. It’s me you want.”

  Azaiah stopped in his tracks, obeying the sound of his master’s voice. Even his collared pawns weren’t that obedient, he reflected.

  “Wizard, you must flee,” Azaiah said, still facing the cyborg.

  Zen straightened, and the glee in his expression faded. “Glad to see you finally grew some balls, Liang. Or is it ‘Wizard’ now? I was beginning to wonder if you were going to let me exterminate the entire village.”

  “What do you want, Zen?” Just as Liang worked up some righteous anger, the force fields hummed louder and louder. In the next instant, they all failed at once, their batteries depleted.

  Only Liang’s heartbeat filled the void the silence left.

  He was trapped, and he fully expected Zen to gloat over his victory. The world shrank, until he stared down at Zen from a long tunnel. Liang willed himself not to faint.

  The cyborg rolled his shoulders and said, “Why don’t you invite me in, for old times’ sake? We can talk like civilized colleagues.”

  Liang coughed to cover the tremor in his voice. “Fine. Come inside, then.”

  Azaiah stepped forward, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He waved him off. Zen would have no qualms destroying the remaining wind turbines and anything—or anyone—that stood in his way.

  His only hope was to maneuver Zen under a force field. If he gave the batteries time to recharge, the remaining windmills might bring in enough power for him to cut Zen in half.

  He brought two stools to the front room. Zen hesitated, his head brushing the ceiling. His long legs blocked the doorway.

  Liang had the sinking sensation he would die just like Rollick. He plunked himself down on one of the stools, feeling numb.

  To his surprise, the giant took a deep breath, as though uncertain. “I didn’t come here to kill you.”

  Liang stared past his long legs at the pile of bodies outside—faces he recognized, and a few he didn’t. He felt sick.

  Zen crossed his arms. “Their deaths are on your head, not mine.” When Liang didn’t argue, he continued, “I take it you heard from our other colleagues that I’ve been on some kind of killing spree.”

  Liang couldn’t believe the man’s audacity. “Even if I hadn’t, it’s fairly obvious that you are!” He gestured to the doorway.

  Ze
n frowned, making his red eyes even more ominous. “I meant killing others of our kind.”

  “You killed my friend Rollick. Don’t try to deny it.” The anger steadied him.

  “I didn’t intend to kill him, just like I didn’t come here to kill you.”

  “You mean to tell me Rollick’s death was an accident? That’s—”

  Zen put a silver hand up and took another step inside. “No, you misunderstand me. I came to Rollick just like I came to the others, just like I’m coming to you—with a proposal for an alliance.”

  Liang needed to draw him through the doorway to the back room. If Zen lumbered in, he felt sure he could time it properly. “Ehhh… I have to say, I’m not sure I believe you. But you haven’t killed me so far. I’m willing to listen.” He rose, backing away.

  Zen held up a hand. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’ve dealt with far too many misunderstandings so far, but I have high hopes that you and I can be true allies if you just hear me out. What technology did the Prophet leave you with when he split us apart?”

  Liang hesitated at the threshold to the back room. “You destroyed my windmill…”

  “What knowledge?”

  His knowing smile made Liang wonder if he knew about the amplifier and the K’inTesh devices, but he answered, “The wind energy and force field technology you’ve seen.”

  “So you call yourself Wizard, now?”

  He dipped his head. “The villagers call me the Wizard.”

  “You let the heathens name you?”

  The sound of moaning came from outside. One of Zen’s victims wasn’t quite dead. Liang shuddered, afraid to guess whom.

  “And I suppose you chose the name Zen because you’re so quiet and meditative?”

  The cyborg laughed, his loud voice sending tremors through the walls of the hut.

  “Of course not.” His mood swung like a pendulum, suddenly serious. “Rafia used to call me Zen. My sister—my true sister, you understand? My flesh and blood. Despite the Prophet’s Mandate, she was more of a philanthropist than most of us. She shared her knowledge with some Purebreeds, like you’ve done with these Changelings.”

  “I haven’t shared everything,” Liang babbled, unsure why he sought this psychopath’s approval.

  “Nor did my sister. Her people shunned those early Changelings and hybrids, fearing them for being different. That should’ve been her first clue.”

  Zen shook his head. “Rafia lived near a hospital on the outskirts of the city. This wasn’t long after the Catastrophe—now all the hospitals are worthless, of course. Rafia kept what she could in working order and cared for the sick, delivered babies, and shared the technology as much as she dared.”

  Behind Zen, Azaiah appeared in the doorway. Blood coated the spear in his hand.

  “No!” Liang tapped on his wristlet, and the force field in the exterior doorway came down. He immediately regretted it; he’d just given away his plan and used up what little energy the wind turbines had recently generated.

  The cyborg whipped around, knocking over the table lamp. “Perhaps he’s worth keeping.” Raising his voice, Zen regarded the Changeling. “This was why Rollick died. His people were loyal to a fault, and while they kept me distracted, he tried to kill me.”

  “I—” The force field hummed, fizzled, and failed again. Liang closed his eyes to Azaiah’s betrayed expression. “Don’t kill him, Zen. He’s my best.”

  “You were wise to stop him,” Zen said. Addressing Azaiah, he said, “I’m not here to kill your master. Let us talk, and I’ll let you live.”

  Liang’s heart thumped, wondering what the cyborg would do next. “Don’t let my misguided followers interrupt what you were saying.”

  The moan from outside cut short, leaving him to wonder if Azaiah had ended their misery. Liang remained near the doorway to the back room, clutching the amplifier as though it might somehow save him.

  The cyborg’s eyes fell on the amplifier. “What’s that?”

  “A K’inTesh device. My people think it’s a magic talisman of some kind. It’s part of the reason they call me the Wizard.” Liang dropped it back into his pocket.

  Zen rolled his shoulders back and nodded. “You should be careful nurturing their barbaric beliefs. Rafia let her people believe what they would, and in the end, they killed her for it.”

  The cyborg gently gripped the table lamp in his huge silver hand and set it back where it belonged.

  “What happened?” Liang wanted to keep Zen talking while the windmills recharged the force fields. His fingers hovered over his wristlet.

  The giant drew a shaky breath. “I wasn’t there, so I don’t know exactly. But from what Kaia later told me, a man needed a blood transfusion. My sister persuaded one of his relatives to help. When another Purebreed saw the tubes drawing blood from one man and putting it into another, he thought she was performing some evil magic.”

  The weight of anger and misery in Zen’s voice told Liang what had unhinged him. He continued, “Her own people made her stand trial, giving her time to tell Kaia what had happened. Not that Kaia could do anything before they killed Rafia.”

  Surely Zen didn’t believe killing other Ageless somehow avenged his sister?

  As if reading Liang’s mind, the cyborg’s red eyes bored into him. “We Ageless can live forever… so long as no one kills us. Rafia, Timar, and probably Akihito and the others who died in the early years learned that lesson the hard way.”

  He leaned down to Liang’s eye level. “Do you want to join them?”

  Liang jerked back, his trembling fingers touching the button on the wristlet. The force field came down between them. Liang found himself reflexively shrinking to a smaller, more agile size.

  “I already told you I wasn’t going to kill you!” Zen’s voice sounded wounded. He didn’t touch the force field. “Would you stop being an idiot?”

  The back room had no exit. Liang suddenly appreciated how helpless Gryid must have felt, locked back here.

  Except that at any minute, the force field would fail again, and Liang would die.

  Zen put his hands together in a gesture of supplication. “Don’t you understand? I’m here to save you! Just like before! After the Catastrophe, we experimented with various strains of Changeling DNA until we found a way to remake ourselves. The whole point was to avoid dying, remember? Now, we’re Ageless. And yet, our number grows ever smaller. On a long enough timeline, even the Ageless will go extinct.”

  Zen paced, his strides cut short by the hut’s confinement. “Unless we find a way to protect ourselves from the unworthy: the Purebreeds, the Changelings, and the hybrids we foolishly constructed to no end. All of them, any of them, will misemploy technology. The Prophet was right about that. Their lifespans aren’t long enough to gain the wisdom we have. We need to take their toys from them like the children they are.”

  Liang felt like he’d been drawn into an alternate universe. In Liang’s universe, the cyborg murdered Ageless. But in this universe, Zen saw himself as their redeemer.

  “What?” he asked stupidly.

  “The Prophet entrusted the technology to us, because of what happened during the Catastrophe. Call me crazy, but I don’t buy his philosophy anymore. But like a good little acolyte, you’ve kept your secrets safe from them, as commanded.”

  “We… we’re supposed to keep the knowledge safe. Until they’re ready.” Liang tried to follow Zen’s logic, but found himself drawn into madness.

  The force field’s hum paused. When it disappeared, Zen made no move toward him. “Except they’ll never be worthy. And the Prophet was wrong to split us apart. He weakened us, making us more likely to let technology fall into the wrong hands. Some of it… If people discovered it, they wouldn’t know how to use without our help. The advanced weapons are worrisome, but there were plenty of those circulating without our interference anyway.”

  “So what are you saying?” What was the proposal that cost Rollick and the others their lives ra
ther than joining him?

  Zen’s expression was grim. “Only we Ageless are worthy inheritors of so-called Ancient technology, because we ourselves are all that’s left of the Ancients. But we can’t protect it if we’re all dead, now can we?”

  Liang found himself shaking his head like a gullible Purebreed, lapping up the wisdom of his betters. Except he wasn’t a Purebreed; they were equals, and he needed to remind Zen of that. Somehow.

  “So I’ve been collecting any working technology I find from the unworthy. Useless crap, mostly. I’d hoped to recruit other Ageless to my cause. So far, no luck. But you,” Zen pointed a giant metallic finger, “you’re different from the others. You have that.”

  His eyes slid down, and Liang realized he’d taken his hand out of his pocket. The hand with the amplifier in it. Zen crossed his lab to stare out the exterior doorway. The slanted light cast long shadows across the bodies outside the Wizard’s door.

  “Which must mean you’re interested in collecting other technology you find, too. We’ve got all the time in the world. We should use it. Combine our knowledge and make ourselves stronger, safer. We could become the immortal guardians that we’re supposed to be—keeping technology away from the descendants of the fools who brought us down in the first place!”

  Liang digested all this. “And how many Ageless have you killed in the name of protecting the few of us that remain?”

  When Zen faced him, the hut’s shadows hid his expression. His red eyes glowed. “I know my temper gets away from me sometimes. I know I’ve done some terrible things to advance my own knowledge. But that’s no reason for you to follow in the dead’s footsteps. They were going to die sometime; the unworthy would see to that sooner or later. I needed their technology to do what needed to be done.”

  Liang imagined Zen’s red orbs could see straight into his soul. They pierced him and held him immobile, his mouth slack.