tapped on Korreth’s shoulder. They think these kids can keep us prisoners?
Korreth elbowed him in the ribs and jutted his chin toward the door. “Care to talk outside?” Jorrim nodded, his expression going serious.
The boys argued amongst themselves when Korreth and Jorrim stepped onto the hard, packed earth of the path outside. Three of the teenagers trailed behind.
“So tell me,” Korreth said, keeping his voice low. “We may not get another chance to be away from her. How did you know she was Ageless? Why do you recognize this place?”
Jorrim glanced over his shoulder at the three teenagers who followed them and shook his head. One was the wiry boy he’d snickered at. “We should be trying to escape.”
Korreth motioned him to be quiet. An alleyway between buildings revealed the land to the north, much less hostile than the drylands they’d spent the last two days traveling through. On a full stomach, Korreth’s strength had returned, but something told him attempting to escape now would lead to folly.
“Too much could go wrong here.” He slowed down and tapped on Jorrim’s arm, They outnumber us.
Jorrim glowered over his shoulder at the scrawny teenagers, who wilted under his gaze and slowed down, giving the two men more space. “I think we could outrun them.”
Korreth shushed him. “The boys are probably more like lookouts, so I doubt they mean to do anything, but they could bring the whole village down on us.”
Jorrim took a deep breath of the night air, and his eyes wandered up to the twilight sky. A sparkling light winked under the crescent moon, and Korreth guessed it was the Fragment, a piece of the alien ship still left floating above the world, hundreds of years after the Catastrophe.
When his friend said nothing, Korreth tried to reason with him. “I know we need to warn our tribes about the Badlands Army before it’s too late, and I want to get home as badly as you do, Jorrim. But now isn’t the right moment.”
Jorrim folded his arms, so Korreth tried an emotional appeal. I want to live to see my kids again, he tapped to Jorrim.
Imagining what his kids would look like now tore open the old wound. His curly-haired daughter would be a young woman. He’d missed all but the earliest years with her. And his son... Korreth never got to see his first steps.
He remembered home, but rarely allowed himself to think of those left behind. He’d learned to avoid that over the past decade as a slave.
Jorrim clapped him on the shoulder. “Shit. Last time, we followed my plan to escape at bathing time. I thought it was smart to run when our masters supervised us the least, but look where we ended up. Maybe we’ll do it your way this time.”
Korreth smiled in return. Even without the chains, they fell into lockstep, but he enjoyed the illusion of freedom. They wandered toward the center of town, where the gigantic iron structure towered another story above the two-tiered buildings. After a while, Korreth wondered whether Jorrim had forgotten his original question.
Jorrim cleared his throat and said, “I can’t believe I never told you about this, considering it was on the way home that the slavers got me.”
Korreth remembered back. The slave he’d been chained beside had died from a heavy beating, and their masters had brought Jorrim to fill the spot. The two swapped stories of their capture the same night, but he didn’t remember Jorrim mentioning an Ageless in that tale. “No. You told me of your capture, and about how they… kept only some of you.”
Jorrim kept his eyes on the packed earth ahead, stepping around charred cinders. “Like most borderland tribes, mine traded with the rest—even a few from the drylands.”
He gestured at the iron sculpture. “For instance, in the town called Mapleton they worshiped a mysterious sphere. A Changeling they called Gryid collected all manner of Ancient things. Even some arcane technology from the Joeys. We heard he’d sometimes
Korreth elbowed him in the ribs and jutted his chin toward the door. “Care to talk outside?” Jorrim nodded, his expression going serious.
The boys argued amongst themselves when Korreth and Jorrim stepped onto the hard, packed earth of the path outside. Three of the teenagers trailed behind.
“So tell me,” Korreth said, keeping his voice low. “We may not get another chance to be away from her. How did you know she was Ageless? Why do you recognize this place?”
Jorrim glanced over his shoulder at the three teenagers who followed them and shook his head. One was the wiry boy he’d snickered at. “We should be trying to escape.”
Korreth motioned him to be quiet. An alleyway between buildings revealed the land to the north, much less hostile than the drylands they’d spent the last two days traveling through. On a full stomach, Korreth’s strength had returned, but something told him attempting to escape now would lead to folly.
“Too much could go wrong here.” He slowed down and tapped on Jorrim’s arm, They outnumber us.
Jorrim glowered over his shoulder at the scrawny teenagers, who wilted under his gaze and slowed down, giving the two men more space. “I think we could outrun them.”
Korreth shushed him. “The boys are probably more like lookouts, so I doubt they mean to do anything, but they could bring the whole village down on us.”
Jorrim took a deep breath of the night air, and his eyes wandered up to the twilight sky. A sparkling light winked under the crescent moon, and Korreth guessed it was the Fragment, a piece of the alien ship still left floating above the world, hundreds of years after the Catastrophe.
When his friend said nothing, Korreth tried to reason with him. “I know we need to warn our tribes about the Badlands Army before it’s too late, and I want to get home as badly as you do, Jorrim. But now isn’t the right moment.”
Jorrim folded his arms, so Korreth tried an emotional appeal. I want to live to see my kids again, he tapped to Jorrim.
Imagining what his kids would look like now tore open the old wound. His curly-haired daughter would be a young woman. He’d missed all but the earliest years with her. And his son... Korreth never got to see his first steps.
He remembered home, but rarely allowed himself to think of those left behind. He’d learned to avoid that over the past decade as a slave.
Jorrim clapped him on the shoulder. “Shit. Last time, we followed my plan to escape at bathing time. I thought it was smart to run when our masters supervised us the least, but look where we ended up. Maybe we’ll do it your way this time.”
Korreth smiled in return. Even without the chains, they fell into lockstep, but he enjoyed the illusion of freedom. They wandered toward the center of town, where the gigantic iron structure towered another story above the two-tiered buildings. After a while, Korreth wondered whether Jorrim had forgotten his original question.
Jorrim cleared his throat and said, “I can’t believe I never told you about this, considering it was on the way home that the slavers got me.”
Korreth remembered back. The slave he’d been chained beside had died from a heavy beating, and their masters had brought Jorrim to fill the spot. The two swapped stories of their capture the same night, but he didn’t remember Jorrim mentioning an Ageless in that tale. “No. You told me of your capture, and about how they… kept only some of you.”
Jorrim kept his eyes on the packed earth ahead, stepping around charred cinders. “Like most borderland tribes, mine traded with the rest—even a few from the drylands.”
He gestured at the iron sculpture. “For instance, in the town called Mapleton they worshiped a mysterious sphere. A Changeling they called Gryid collected all manner of Ancient things. Even some arcane technology from the Joeys. We heard he’d sometimes
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