The Last of the Ageless Read Free

shadow of a dragonfly skipping from rock to rock in the borderlands. In his haste, Dalan had spread out his offerings, but the dragonfly did not deign to inspect them.
    The insect had buzzed off toward the grasslands, leaving Dalan to contemplate his failure. When he glanced down at the colored discs, he realized he hadn’t fanned them out enough: the dragonfly probably hadn’t seen its preferred color among the offerings.
    Dalan vowed to take his time with the next dragonfly. He would perform the bonding ritual as his instructors had taught him, and return home with his companion. Until then, he would confine himself to the tortured drylands, where only dragonflies seeking companions would venture.
    When a deer mouse skittered beneath him, the hawk took over and dove. Dust scattered as his talons sank into flesh.
    Long after his beak plucked at its entrails, Dalan’s mind resurfaced. Cahlae would have scolded him for losing control, but Mishnir would’ve said returning to his birth form to eat his supper would waste energy and water. He gazed over the expanse of nothingness, contemplating whether coming out to the drylands had been such a great plan to find a dragonfly.
    A tremor in the ground sent Dalan bursting upward in a surge of flapping. As he rose above the barren earth, he reasserted control over the hawk’s startled mind.
    To the west, a dust cloud rose in the distance. Within it, indecipherable shapes were silhouetted by the red sun, but the thunder of hooves hinted at people on horseback.
    Dalan considered returning to the remainder of his meal before the distant figures happened upon him, but decided to remain airborne instead.
    Dalan’s keen eyesight took in the riders as they neared, most of whom rode two to a horse. They wielded clubs and crossbows, and the lack of mutations in their appearance suggested Purebred human stock.
    A woman with orange-hued skin—a Changeling for certain—fled before them. As Dalan watched, the gap between them and their quarry closed.
    Soon, he was able to see the individual hairs on their prey. Her skin wasn’t orange after all; black-and-orange striped fur covered her entire body. Atop her head sat two cat’s ears.
    Dalan was stunned. A fellow transmelder caught between melds? He closed his eyes and let the updrafts from the drylands lift him into the air. Concentrating on keeping the hawk part of his mind silent, Dalan reached out to her. Can you hear me?
    He heard nothing but the thunderous pounding of the horses’ hooves.
    Dalan tried again. What’s going on? Do you need help?
    Despite being two to a horse, her pursuers would soon catch up. Adrenaline coursed through Dalan’s veins, demanding that he act, but allowing outsiders to know of his Changeling powers was forbidden.
    Dalan flapped away from the group and plunged to the ground. Hiding behind a mound of boulders, he gained mass, his bones becoming denser in order to withstand the weight of the new muscles attached to them. He lost himself in the agony as his joints shifted and reformed.
    His teeth grew in, and he clenched them together to ward off a scream as his body thrust his clothing and other accoutrements to the surface. Sound traveled well out here where vegetation was scarce, and Dalan knew better than to risk being heard.
    Ignoring his body’s need for water, Dalan poked his head above the rocks while the final changes completed. Anyone encountering him in birth form would likely assume him a Purebreed.
    The horsemen and their quarry neared. Dalan dropped his pack and rummaged through it for the Ancient gun. A shout got his attention as his fingers closed on the gun’s short barrel. He yanked it out and peered over the rocks again.
    Though Dalan had only been visible for a moment, the unarmed woman apparently had spotted him—and she led her pursuers straight toward him.
    Dalan’s breath caught in his throat. He raised the LEC6, hoping the sight of the Ancient weapon would be enough to scare the