The Last of the Ageless Read Free Page A

horsemen off.
    But on they came. If Dalan didn’t do something, the horsemen would ride down both of them. Sighting along the short barrel, Dalan aimed for the foremost horse, the only one with a solo rider, his face marred by a large, untreated burn mark.
    Praying the animal’s spirit would forgive him, Dalan pulled the trigger. Sizzling blue lightning shot out. It crackled across the horse’s chest and writhed over the man’s legs like tentacles.
    The horse collapsed, pitching its rider. The other horses shrilled in terror and scattered.
    Dalan ducked down, taking advantage of the distraction and waited. He sidestepped to peek over a shorter boulder as he counted to six.
    A horse reared, causing one of its riders to fall while the other clutched at the reins. The furred woman darted toward them, dodging the horse’s flailing hooves. Silhouetted against the sun, her hand arced toward the fallen man just before a panicked horse blocked Dalan’s view.
    The gun vibrated in his palm. The remaining men surrounded their intended victim as the sun slipped lower on the horizon.
    A noise behind him caught Dalan off guard. He jumped to the side as a crossbow bolt thudded into the sandstone beside his chest. He threw himself behind a mutated prickly-pear cactus, aimed between cactus paddles, and fired alongside the mound of rocks.
    Writhing snakes of blue energy rolled across the shoulder, neck, and face of his attacker. The scrawny man gaped in a silent scream, his whole body going rigid.
    The body of his would-be murderer hit the ground hard and peppered Dalan with dirt. He coughed at the taste of dust. Gathering his wits, he tried to figure out what to do next, but instead found himself just watching.
    The burned man Dalan had dismounted earlier approached a horseman, who ignored him and raised a club. “Get her!” he said, taking a swing at the furred woman. She dodged to the side and leaped onto the horse, landing in the saddle behind him. They wrestled momentarily before falling to the ground.
    “You idiot!” someone called out. “Watch her claws!”
    The crossbowman aimed but held his fire as the two rolled in the dirt. He noticed Dalan and swung his arm toward him. The sun disappeared below the horizon, and in the deepening shadows, Dalan ducked behind the rocks again. He remembered the gun in his hand, raised it, and pulled the trigger.
    Nothing.
    A crossbow bolt skidded across the top of the sandstone, catching the cloth of Dalan’s shirt as it flew past.
    Dalan heard a scream, then a gurgle. Her fur matted by blood, the woman rushed the crossbowman, who yelped and dug his heels into his horse’s flanks. The man with the burned face chased after the crossbowman on foot, shouting until he reined in.
    The burned man struggled to climb up behind the saddle but slid off, the front of his shirt ripping. The crossbowman steadied him on his second attempt. As the horse whinnied and lunged into a canter, they fled, followed by their companions. Dalan gazed across the expanse after as they disappeared into the darkness.
    Dalan reeled at the scene around him. Blood drenched a man’s threadbare shirt, his wooden club abandoned in the dark pool beside him. His face and neck were torn to ribbons, a chunk of his lip hanging loose. A red seam split another corpse’s neck, and his pool of blood touched the first man.
    Dalan found himself on his knees by the prickly-pear, puking his guts up. When he finished, he sat back on his ankles and let his stomach settle.
    The furred woman kneeled down next to the crumpled body of the man Dalan had killed. Her hand slipped inside his shirt and groped around. Finding nothing, she proceeded to go through his pockets and the pouches on his belt. To Dalan’s consternation, she pocketed a few trinkets from the man’s belongings.
    He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear away the image of the scrawny, rigid body and gaping mouth and told himself he hadn’t meant to end his life. But