Doublesight (23 page)

“That's not the mission. You know that,” Zimp said.

Lankor felt the strike of her blunt words. No, he thought, he was the mission. He had to fight even if none of the others did.

Zimp must have noticed his thinking, or read his thoughts, because she looked into his eyes and said, “You are not alone in this either.”

He acknowledged her words with a lowering of his eyes.

No longer the center of attention, Raik moved toward Brok. “Let us rest so that tomorrow we ride with renewed energy.”

“He's right,” Zimp said.

They took their places beside the campfire. The horses had been quiet through the entire shifting session. Raik checked on them one last time before rejoining his companions, taking a seat next to Lankor. “I am sorry for what appeared to be a deception.”

“You don't need to apologize. You and I are equally outcast even from our own kind.”

“For some reason, my m-mousey human image is nothing like the m-mouse itself,” Raik went on in a whisper.

“It must be difficult,” Lankor said.

“Sometimes I feel as though the s-snake is waiting to eat the mouse. Every time the m-mouse is my next beast image, I imagine the snake hidden somewhere inside me, ready to strike, killing part of my very s-soul as it does so.”

Brok laughed briefly. “Maybe then you'd be like the rest of us.”

Raik looked across the fire squarely at Brok. “I'll n-never be like the rest of you.”

Zimp spoke in soft tones. “I can only image what it was like in The Great Land when there was complete freedom between beast and human. How horrible. Just like our history says.”

Lankor waited before saying what was on his mind. “Do you think that is part of the fear about dragons?”

“What would that be?” Zimp asked.

“That if one species is back, that perhaps others will be, too. And that we might be going back to the way we were? A cycle?”

“Look at me,” Raik said. “If I'm any indication where our kind might be headed, no wonder those who are human-image only are afraid of us. No wonder they wouldn't want us to evolve. What would The Great Land turn into?”

“I don't know,” Zimp said.

Lankor didn't feel that she was being honest. For her, the situation wasn't personal. Her entire clan wasn't at jeopardy. It would be impossible to rid The Great Land of crows.

Zimp leaned back and looked around for her cloak. Seeing this, Raik crawled back and grabbed it from where he had been earlier. He balled it up and threw it to her. Zimp spread it out next to her and rolled onto it. She placed her arms behind her black hair.

In the firelight, Lankor watched her face shift with the shadows that swept over her. The wind stressed the fire, which in turn created stress in the fine curves of Zimp's cheeks, lips, and chin.

“We need sleep,” Zimp said.

Brok drew a blanket from within his pack. Therin sauntered over and lay down to sleep next to his brother.

Lankor drew on his seriousness and leaned toward Raik. He jerked his head up to indicate that he wished to take a walk. Raik stood as Lankor did.

“Don't be gone long,” Zimp said. “Especially you, dragon boy. You'll need all your strength just to ride tomorrow.”

Neither of them answered her, although Lankor felt the sharp edge of her ridicule as he followed Raik along the northern ridge near the edge of the forest. They were some distance away when Lankor first spoke. “You are no different than I am,” he said.

Raik stopped and lifted his head to the stars and the sky. “Each of us is unique. I'm just doubly so.”

“Why us, do you suppose? What is it that we five have to offer The Few or the doublesight, that they couldn't have gotten through another means? We don't even know one another well enough to be strategic, as Zimp puts it.”

“She'll pull it all together,” Raik said. “Trust her. I have been around many leaders. There is something in her that is natural and will show itself soon enough.”

Lankor looked at the sky. “How many more of us are out there? How many doublesight?”

“There are but thirty-seven clans left in The Great Land. We are a dying race. The human singlesight are strong and many. They have learned to control many animals and make them fight for them, work for them. Our problem is that we still respect the beasts, being half beast ourselves.”

“I eat animals,” Lankor said.

Raik laughed. “Yes, as do I, but I respect them as I do so.”

Lankor laughed with his friend, a hearty, free-flowing laugh. One that he needed. He slapped Raik on the shoulder and looked out over the rolling hills to the west. “How far does this go on?”

“As far as we choose to travel, my friend. As far as we choose. That is if we run into no bandits out here.”

“Bandits?”

“Look out there. The world folds in on itself. It rises and falls, shifts and turns. You can't see the river valley from here. It looks like one endless forest, but it's not. There are many places to hide out there. You'll see,” Raik said.

“Is it always windy up here?” Lankor said.

Raik pointed to the north. “Colder air is pushing in. Yes, after the sun goes down, the wind picks up. But look, we may have rain by morning.”

“There are almost no clouds.”

Raik pointed to the west, shaking his head. “Do you see any stars over those trees?”

“I hadn't noticed,” Lankor said.

“I'm sure you have the same thing happen in The Lost, only the wind comes from The Harsh Seas.”

“Seasonally.”

“You need only train your eye using different colors, my friend.” Raik turned to go back. “I need sleep. The chill is getting to me.”

Lankor followed him back, noticing that the smooth movement of his body was back in place. So far, he liked Raik best.

Before they reached camp, Lankor heard a loud crack and a distant boom. A brightness flashed out the corner of his eye.

“It's coming,” Raik said. “Let's hope it rains in the valley and leaves us alone up here.”

25

THE RAIN NEVER CAME THAT NIGHT, but the wind swept the crest in a fury, bending short mountain pines and drawing dirt and stones into the air like small tornadoes. The dog-like howling of the wind woke Zimp before sunrise. She pulled her cloak closer to her body and tucked her head into it like a turtle under attack. She opened her eyes into a sliver. A dark shape sat near the edge of a rock ledge. She grabbed her dagger and coiled into a ready position, then sprang from under her cloak. The shadowy shape did not stir, but she recognized it anyway. Lankor sat on his haunches, his arms wrapped around his legs and his hands holding his knees. He appeared as the statue of the man she met only two days prior.

Zimp walked over to where the silhouette perched. Her hair blew back from her face. The chill morning air tightened her skin in bumps. “Did you sleep?” she asked when she was close enough for him to hear.

“Yes. Several hours.” Lankor said.

“It's going to be a long day,” she said. “And with your riding ability…”

“I'll survive. You needn't remind me of my limitations so often.”

She strolled closer. The hard, angled features of his face became more defined. His hands were strong and his body thick with muscle. She ignored his comment. “You're not afraid you might fall from this height?”

“I could shift before I hit anything dangerous.”

She leaned over to look down. “That would be a fast shift for a beast of your size. Wouldn't that be painful?”

“Not as painful as death,” he said. Lankor turned his face toward her. “Are you concerned for my health?”

Zimp drew her eyes away from him and forced herself to glance over the edge of the ridge toward the rolling hills. She placed her dagger back into her boot and felt Lankor's eyes watch her movements. She wasn't sure, for the moment, whether she liked his stare or felt threatened by it.

“We'll be traveling down into the forest again for the next few days,” Lankor said. “I wanted to be in the open for as long as I could. I wanted to see the morning light illuminate the trees in the distance. Watch it glide over them a little at a time. The expanse makes me feel homesick, but good.”

“A romantic thought about your homeland,” Zimp said.

Lankor stood and his knees cracked. The ends of his boots extended past the rock he stood upon. He leaned dangerously forward.

Zimp stepped closer in an automatic motion meant to rescue him if he should slip.

“You couldn't save me,” he said.

“I'd try.”

He turned on his heels and came down from the rock. He stood next to Zimp. The sun began its rise behind them. A shard of light darted into the distance. “Mornings are beautiful,” he said.

She felt his eyes as he studied her profile. She thought to say something, but words didn't come. The morning light and his stare were all she could take for the moment. She didn't like how she felt. Her mind churned, muddled and thick.

From a nearby tree bending in the slowing wind, Zora whispered, “Care for your safety.”

Zimp swung her head around toward the voice.

“What is it?” Lankor asked.

“Nothing,” Zimp said. “We should get ready to go on.”

Zimp left Lankor at the ridge and woke the others.

They rustled around camp, collecting their packs and getting the horses ready. Lankor appeared sluggish, but active all the same. Morning birds sang the sunrise alive. Several crows entered the sky and flew south. The doublesight group had a quick breakfast, each eating from their own pack's breads, dried meats of various kinds,
handfuls of nuts and bark. The fire pit had already been put out and roughed over, the extra wood scattered.

“Everyone, before we leave,” Zimp said motioning for them to come to her. Zimp lighted a candle of green and gold. As she placed it onto the ground, she reached out to indicate for them to make a circle around the candle. She closed her eyes. “We thank the Six Shapeless Gods for creating all life on The Great Land. We thank them for returning and separating man from beast when we could not control our own minds. And we thank the Six Shapeless Gods for allowing the doublesight to know the truth of shapeshifting. We now urge them to protect our lives on this journey. To the Gods.”

“To the Gods,” they each said.

“You know the Shapeless Gods were just playing and didn't know what they were doing when they created us?” Raik said.

“Even as children, the Gods were able to create life. They saw how they had made a mistake and corrected it. Have we ever done that? Have the beasts or the humans ever done that?” she said feeling anger rise in her.

“It doesn't make the Gods right. It only makes them our creators,” Raik said.

“And they could destroy us if they chose to do so,” she said.

“It is my belief that they will never return,” Raik said. “They don't care what happens to The Great Land or the doublesight. We have become an old toy, discarded and broken.”

Zimp stared at Raik for a long moment. “You may believe what you wish. As long as we travel together, I'll have morning blessings if we have time to do them.”

Raik nodded a reluctant, slow approval and acceptance of her directive.

“Now, let's ride. Brok, could you have Therin run ahead and sniff out any trouble?”

“Done.” He bent down and talked with Therin, something that continued to look strange to Zimp. It was difficult to tell if Therin understood his brother. The thylacine's jaw dropped and drool slipped out and onto the ground. Its dangerous mouth looked hungry.

Zimp recognized the same wide, sweeping mouth on Brok that his brother exhibited. The eyes were similar too, dark and difficult
to look into. She blew out the candle and slid it into her pack. Concerned for Lankor's ability to ride throughout the day, she decided to take breaks whenever she could. She rode back and asked Raik to keep an eye on Lankor as well.

“I would have done that anyway,” Raik said, an edge in his voice.

Zimp shook her head. Raik must have taken their disagreement to heart. She wondered how she was to manage all those men with their individual annoyances.

Brok waited for her to ride to him several hundred feet from the other two. “I don't trust either of them,” he whispered.

“They took the oath,” Zimp said.

“So did we,” Brok said.

“I should not trust you?” she asked.

He turned his horse and led the way.

“Do you know where we are going?” Zimp wanted to know.

“Down,” Brok said. “Therin's tracks will show us the easiest descent.” He turned in his saddle to glance at her. “Or would you like to find our way?”

She wondered how she had managed to anger each of them in a single morning, then checked her own feelings of anger. But it wasn't anger so much as a sense of vulnerability. As a woman and as a crow clan member, intimacy was not such a threat for her as it might be for the others. Still, not wanting to give in to Brok, she said, “I trust your brother.”

He laughed as he swung forward and squeezed his horse into movement. He rode with an easy sway as though he were part of the horse itself. His curly hair glided over the back of his neck.

Zimp had never seen him cry over the death of his parents. In fact, there had been very little show of emotion whenever she was around. Breel, on the other hand, had the feel of being more human in nature. She joked and talked. She asked questions and openly cared for people. Brok appeared cold, except when he addressed his siblings. He hugged and kissed his sister, held Therin across his lap. There seemed a definite split in his feelings for his family versus all others. Yet he never cried over his parents, and that still felt odd to Zimp.

She listened for Lankor's horse behind her and turned around when anything sounded amiss. Lankor rode with his hand gripped
to the saddle horn and his body leaning back. His horse appeared to struggle under Lankor's weight. Zimp noted the strain and planned to rotate the horses later to give it a break.

The forest thickened and thinned at various places. The path Brok led them down declined in an easy slope and along a widened pathway. More than animals had used the path, Zimp thought. Parts of it were from trappers and hunters.

Birds of various kinds, robins and starlings, wrens and warblers, chirped and sang. A hawk screeched and flew past. Large game remained scarce, hidden from the band of misfits trudging through the forest.