deeper into the drylands, and we thought we had her. But she must’ve been leading us straight into a trap. Her friend had an Ancient gun that shot lightning. Between them, Olix and I—” His lips pressed into a flat line.
“You ran,” Jorrim finished.
Korreth shook his head at him for disrespecting these people who had already lost so much.
“What else could we do?” Olix stood, his face red. His utensils clattered to his plate. “What would you have did? After that, two of our friends waited until nightfall to sneak up on them, but me and Farlen knew that was a bad idea. We came back. They never did.”
Soledad put up her hand before Jorrim could speak again. “It’s not your fault. You’re Purebreeds. What were you supposed to do against such a powerful foe?”
She raised an eyebrow at Jorrim, and Korreth hoped he got the message to keep silent. “My spiritless friends are Purebreeds as well. They know how helpless you must have felt.”
The slight emphasis she put on the word made Jorrim’s mouth snap closed. Neither of them knew how she might punish them for thwarting whatever she’d intended to accomplish here. Korreth hoped Jorrim would keep that in mind.
Farlen pushed on, perhaps to keep Olix from doing anything to start a fight. “When me and Olix got back, the village was in ashes. Gryid was gone.”
He looked at Tomlen, who then picked up the story. “When they ran off after the Changeling woman, the rest of us done what we could for Gryid in the middle of everything else. He kept aging, and sooner or later he done wound up in the age where his leg was broken. Then he pretty much went into shock.”
Soledad looked as confused as the man sounded. Korreth tried to puzzle out what they could glean from that.
“Gryid was always trying to heal himself,” Verra spoke up, her voice light. The other women cast narrow-eyed glances her way, their lips tight, but she continued, “You can ask the healers. I think he liked to let them practice Ancient healing techniques on him, because if they made a mistake, he could age it away. But he always said it was a waste to leave ages behind if they could be healed.”
“Anyway,” Tomlen broke back in. “Those of us who was still alive,” he closed his eyes, “We set up a chain of folks stretching to the creek in the forest, handing buckets down the line ‘til the fires went out.”
Korreth recalled the distance to the forest from the settlement. It must have taken them hours to put out the fires.
“Healer been tending Gryid when somebody punched her in the face and knocked her out,” Tomlen said. “I was in the bucket line at the edge of town, so I saw them tie Gryid to a horse’s saddle and ride off. Weren’t nothing nobody could’ve done by then—these idiots had all our horses.”
Olix stood up, his mouth twisted in a snarl. Then he turned on his heel and stalked through the doorway.
Soledad sat back. “How many did you see? We need to know what we’re up against.”
Tomlen shook his head. “I seen at least five.”
Jorrim frowned. Korreth wondered if Soledad intended to track the kidnappers. The villagers’ story didn’t match what she’d told them about someone killing off the Ageless.
Soledad’s confusion seemed genuine when she asked, “What could they possibly want? Why would they do this?”
Tomlen answered without hesitation. “I done told you—it was his magic.”
Soledad leaned forward. “What makes you say that?”
Tomlen glanced at Farlen before answering, as though seeking permission. “The Changeling done made off with the magic purple amulets from Gryid’s house. But one of the kidnappers—I swear I saw the exact same kind glowing around his neck.”
After the tense dinner, the villagers brought Korreth and Jorrim back to the room they’d changed clothes in. Five teenagers Korreth hadn’t seen earlier took up positions by their doors. Jorrim snickered, eyeballing the wiry boys up and down.
He
“You ran,” Jorrim finished.
Korreth shook his head at him for disrespecting these people who had already lost so much.
“What else could we do?” Olix stood, his face red. His utensils clattered to his plate. “What would you have did? After that, two of our friends waited until nightfall to sneak up on them, but me and Farlen knew that was a bad idea. We came back. They never did.”
Soledad put up her hand before Jorrim could speak again. “It’s not your fault. You’re Purebreeds. What were you supposed to do against such a powerful foe?”
She raised an eyebrow at Jorrim, and Korreth hoped he got the message to keep silent. “My spiritless friends are Purebreeds as well. They know how helpless you must have felt.”
The slight emphasis she put on the word made Jorrim’s mouth snap closed. Neither of them knew how she might punish them for thwarting whatever she’d intended to accomplish here. Korreth hoped Jorrim would keep that in mind.
Farlen pushed on, perhaps to keep Olix from doing anything to start a fight. “When me and Olix got back, the village was in ashes. Gryid was gone.”
He looked at Tomlen, who then picked up the story. “When they ran off after the Changeling woman, the rest of us done what we could for Gryid in the middle of everything else. He kept aging, and sooner or later he done wound up in the age where his leg was broken. Then he pretty much went into shock.”
Soledad looked as confused as the man sounded. Korreth tried to puzzle out what they could glean from that.
“Gryid was always trying to heal himself,” Verra spoke up, her voice light. The other women cast narrow-eyed glances her way, their lips tight, but she continued, “You can ask the healers. I think he liked to let them practice Ancient healing techniques on him, because if they made a mistake, he could age it away. But he always said it was a waste to leave ages behind if they could be healed.”
“Anyway,” Tomlen broke back in. “Those of us who was still alive,” he closed his eyes, “We set up a chain of folks stretching to the creek in the forest, handing buckets down the line ‘til the fires went out.”
Korreth recalled the distance to the forest from the settlement. It must have taken them hours to put out the fires.
“Healer been tending Gryid when somebody punched her in the face and knocked her out,” Tomlen said. “I was in the bucket line at the edge of town, so I saw them tie Gryid to a horse’s saddle and ride off. Weren’t nothing nobody could’ve done by then—these idiots had all our horses.”
Olix stood up, his mouth twisted in a snarl. Then he turned on his heel and stalked through the doorway.
Soledad sat back. “How many did you see? We need to know what we’re up against.”
Tomlen shook his head. “I seen at least five.”
Jorrim frowned. Korreth wondered if Soledad intended to track the kidnappers. The villagers’ story didn’t match what she’d told them about someone killing off the Ageless.
Soledad’s confusion seemed genuine when she asked, “What could they possibly want? Why would they do this?”
Tomlen answered without hesitation. “I done told you—it was his magic.”
Soledad leaned forward. “What makes you say that?”
Tomlen glanced at Farlen before answering, as though seeking permission. “The Changeling done made off with the magic purple amulets from Gryid’s house. But one of the kidnappers—I swear I saw the exact same kind glowing around his neck.”
After the tense dinner, the villagers brought Korreth and Jorrim back to the room they’d changed clothes in. Five teenagers Korreth hadn’t seen earlier took up positions by their doors. Jorrim snickered, eyeballing the wiry boys up and down.
He
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