Doublesight (32 page)

As a reminder of just how blessed he did not feel, his crow image pulled at him to shift. As he leaned over to look down the trunk of the pine, his hand slipped from the branch he had been holding. His other hand flew up to grab a nearby branch to steady him. The fear of falling had come too quickly. His crow image got its way. The shift began before he could refocus. His body shriveled and folded into itself. He worked to keep his balance by shifting focus to his feet. Claws grew and gripped. Arms shrunk into black wings.

The change complete, Storret let loose his firm hold on his human thinking. It was there, but the urges of the crow were there also, competing for time, thought, life. This was the dilemma of the doublesight: wishing to be beast while human and wishing to be human while beast. Each person had his or her own struggles with sanity in this way.

Storret stepped into the wind and flapped his wings. He flew up and around the treetops once, then plummeted toward the forest floor. The quickness of the shift left him a little foggy in his thinking. His crow image held strong. Under that strength, though, was the human Storret. Always human first, Storret worked his way back into a semblance of control over the crow image. Instead of landing in a tree or cawing out a warning when he glimpsed the humans, he hit the ground behind a stand of scrub. He shook his head and
ruffled his feathers. He focused on how he might organize his troops. He was back, full strength. It had taken longer than he would have liked and he reminded himself of the dangers of shifting too quickly.

Storret shifted smoothly back into his human self. Straightening his clothes as he stepped from behind the bushes, he greeted several of the men he would soon lead.

“Sir,” one of them said, surprised to see Storret. The man held out his hand. “Floom,” he said.

Storret gripped the man's hand, a totally human gesture. What image was behind that handshake?

Two more hands reached for Storret's.

Floom stepped aside. “My friends Sloat and Woss.”

Storret shook hands with them as well. Strong, firm grips. Aggressive handshakes. They were predators of some kind.

“There are others in the clearing over here,” Floom said, leading the way.

Storret recognized many from his own clan and smiled. Several nodded their heads in approval, making Storret feel better about the day. A wide variety of people were packed into the clearing, stretching into the woods as well. How many there were he could not tell. They talked among themselves in lowered voices, but the abundance of sound pierced the air.

Storret felt that he could tell one clan from another just by their human features. Tall or short, broad shouldered, curly hair reminded him of Breel and Brok. Thylacines? Were there also other predators? Wolves, hawks?

As he looked them over, his thoughts turned to Oronice. Although he trusted her judgment, he did not wish for her to die. There was much that she didn't say in front of anyone, and much that The Few held back as well. But Storret had heard enough concern in all their voices to know that the small army they were putting together would have to fight and that additional recruiting had already begun.

Judging from Oro's quickened departure, he suspected the rush involved Zimp and the small band of doublesight sent out to Castle Weilk. He raised his arms into the air and the crowd quieted.

“This is not the ideal training ground, but I assume many of you have already trained in some form of battle.” A loud cheer went up
and Storret saw staffs, swords, knives, and a few longbows lift into the air above the heads of those before him. “This is not what we are taught as doublesight,” he said. Then he stopped. “But it is also true that we wished to survive.” He could sense the shift in the emotion of those before him and thought that it was the most passive man who, when angered, puts up the most vicious fight. This, then, would be a bloody battle to the death. Numbers would not matter in the face of extinction.

The more he looked around, the smaller the clearing appeared and the fewer doublesight stood around him. “Eventually,” he started, “and I know this may be difficult, but we'll need to know one another's beast image. If we are in battle and our brother should shift we don't want to be shocked into shifting as well. Remember, a fast shift makes you vulnerable to remaining in beast image longer and possibly forever, while a slow shift makes you vulnerable to immediate attack. Death, if you are in battle at the time.”

Floom stepped out of the crowd and raised a hand. “Some of us practice fast shifts and have found a stability point.”

Nodding approval, Storret smiled and rubbed his chin with his hand. “Perhaps you can teach us such a skill, my friend.”

Floom almost leapt into the air. The lightness in his being tugged at Storret and he guessed a bird of some kind, a raptor. Wow, shouldn't a raptor be leading them into battle? No, he wouldn't question Ornice's decision. He would hold to his duty and post until otherwise removed.

“For this first hour we shall get to know one another. We are many, but not so many that we cannot learn who will fight beside us. Floom,” he said, “you will walk with me and help to collect information. Before we shift, any of us, we acknowledge our beast image. I want to know what skills you have, how quickly you can shift and remain in human consciousness. Tell one another your names and your likes and dislikes. How difficult will it be for you to harm a singlesight? How much of an honor do you feel being selected to fight? While in battle, we must know the person next to us so that we are impelled to save their life as if it were our own. I want to know if you see yourself as courageous or cowardly.” He lowered his head. Where did all that come from? How would he
learn so much about them? He motioned to Floom to stand by him. “Begin,” he said to the others.

Floom waltzed over to Storret, pride in his step. “Sir.”

“A raptor, yes?” Storret said.

“Hawks. All three of us. In fact, there are probably twenty in all here.” Floom lowered his eyes. “We know that you're a crow. Your whole clan. It's difficult to hide.” A blush came to his face. “I'm honored to stand with you.”

“Truly?” Storret said without thinking.

“Crows live in both worlds. They have no fear. I've seen crows attack all types of beasts. They never give up. And they are cunning and quick.” Floom shook his head in amazement.

Storret had never seen himself in such a way, but listening to Floom reminded him of the truth. “Thank you. Now, let's see what we have to work with.”

The two of them weaved in and out of the small army asking questions and discussing personal issues. At first it felt odd to be doing so, but Storret soon found himself growing more interested and closer to his men, and women. Many of the clans provided women warriors. Fox doublesight were equally matched, male and female. And there were rat doublesight, about fifty of them, a few eagle doublesight, and copperheads. Storret hadn't known before, but Raik must have been a copperhead, because his brother Galwit claimed to be one. Bennek stood next to Galwit and proudly announced that he was a singlesight human. “A snake charmer,” he added.

Skill sets varied as well. They all claimed to be swordsmen, but some offered other talents such as archery and knife throwing. Hand-to-hand combat was the specialty of the fox doublesight, who were magical in their movements.

About mid-morning, a messenger worked his way through the crowd to alert Storret that Rend had requested his presence at Oro's wagon.

“I've got to go,” he said to Floom. “Continue on.”

Storret ran through the woods, a more direct route than any of the winding paths.

Rend had apparently heard him coming. The big man motioned for Storret to join them.

Noot, the High Sage, looked frightened, unsure, and confused. He would find his place quickly though. Storret had faith in that fact, even as he climbed inside the wagon and kneeled next to Oronice.

Oro's eyes opened into a slit. Her dry mouth wrinkled as she whispered. “You first,” she said. “I will contact you first.”

Confusion overwhelmed him. Why not contact Noot first?

Rend must have noticed. He leaned toward Storret and said, “She wants to have clear contact before she goes to Zimp. She fears that her granddaughter has not practiced enough, that she may become confused by what she hears.”

“How she hears,” Mianna corrected.

“How she hears,” Rend repeated. “And what she may see. Do you understand this?”

“I do,” Storret said. “But Noot?”

“He must remain a clear path for the other realm,” Rend said.

Oro sucked in a deep breath and her chest heaved into the air. They all became still and awaited her last breath.

Rend motioned for the others to exit the wagon. He followed last, leaving Storret and Oro alone.

As the rear flap closed and Storret heard the last of the rustling outside as Rend and the others moved away, Oro eased out a long, slow aaahhhh, as though she were meditating. She created a sound passageway to the other realm.

He recalled at age six when his older brother taught him the first passageway. And now Oronice The Gem used it for her last shift, a realm shift.

Storret enjoyed the memory for a moment. He would miss holding Oro's hand and dancing with her during ceremonies. He'd miss her scarred and scratchy voice, her wisdom. But there was something exciting about the new sense of her he was about to gain. He had had only a fleeting moment of such contact when his parents died, several days when his brother did his realm shift after a long illness. The more conscious the shift, the more available would be the inter-realm contact. That was unless you were lucky enough to have a twin. He wondered briefly why Zimp rejected the possibilities of what she was able to do?

Oronice's voice trailed off. Her chest sunk into the mattress.

Storret's eyes welled up. Was he unable to make contact? Did he need to concentrate in a special way that he had forgotten? He panicked. His daydreams of being younger had interfered with his focus. He had allowed Oronice to realm shift without being there for her, without listening for her. He had failed his most important task.

“Quiet!” he heard Rend say from nearby. But Rend had stepped away, hadn't he?

Storret stopped thinking. He quieted his mind.

“Better,” he heard. Oronice had spoken.

Nothing he could have imagined could explain what happened next. If he had recalled his few days in contact with his brother, it would appear to be a sketchy, interrupted contact at best, for Oronice came through as though she sat with her lips next to his ear and her body touching his. In fact, Storret's entire body tingled as though he was being touched everywhere. His head felt an unusual pressure, and his ears shut down to all outside noise including the wind, the birds, the creak and snap of tree limbs as they scraped together, all of it stopped. He fell into a silence so complete that he questioned his own existence within it. Then he heard Oronice, a younger, more vibrant voice. He remembered the sound.

“Wait,” she said. “Hold on to…wait.”

There came the sound of someone taking a deep breath. He glanced at the dead body. Nothing moved. There was no other sound anywhere in existence. He could see in the physical world, but not hear. He only heard what went on in the other realm.

Her inhale stopped and again she exhaled, saying, “Ahhhh,” in the other realm.

He could hear the sound of her exhale, and toward the end of her last breath, Oro said, “Oh, I see.”

Storret waited.

“A birthing,” she said. “I'm being born.”

With her last comment, a loud flapping of wings came. He felt the air from the wild movement. He sensed a presence in the wagon with him, but was afraid to turn, to look around. He didn't want to lose contact. He didn't want to end that magnificent moment. He held his breath. The swipe of a wing touched his face. A clawed foot landed on his arm. Without moving, he used soft eyes to see Oronice, a
young crow, perched on his arm. He was fully conscious of only the other realm. “Am I there with you?” he said.

Oronice laughed. “No. You are not even half way. But you've done nicely.”

“What, what…”

“I was reborn as a crow image first. This is what makes contact difficult.”

“Why can I hear you?”

“I'm not sure yet.” She shifted before him. “Oh, that's why,” she said.

“What?”

“Never mind. It's something I must sense.” A young, and very beautiful, Oronice sat before him near the dead body of her older self. Her hand lay across his arm where a clawed foot had been a moment before. “You,” she said accusingly, “could not imagine seeing me.”

“Until I heard you,” he said.

“Yes. Now listen to me closely.”

34

THE CHAMBER WALL STOOD a stark charcoal color against the yellow sunbeam that pitched through the one outside opening. King Belford the Warrior paced along the stone floor, scuffing his boots against the twisting grain in the hard river-stone surface.

“Calm down,” Draklan said, making a smooth motion with his hand. “We'll find them. The double-beast will make sure of it.”

“And what then? Kill them? Begin another war?” King Belford said.

“Your worry sickens me. Where is the fearless warrior who held off Flandean armies, who entered Sclan and left only ruins?” Draklan spit a glob of slime onto the floor in front of the chair in which he sat. The spit stretched and slid like a living thing across the stone.

King Belford stepped over it and continued to pace. “Why does it matter? Perhaps the warrior has seen enough death. Perhaps I believe there is no point to it. The doublesight threaten no one. They play inside their beast images like children. What harm?”

“What harm?” Draklan jumped to his feet. “You fool. It is not what they do now, but what they could do. You've seen the sisters.”

King Belford's face wrinkled into disgust. “I have,” he said lowering his head.

“They are the new doublesight being born. They have hate in their veins. They are the future of this world unless someone stops them.” Draklan turned and stared at the wall. He spoke, not to the king, but to himself or someone deep inside him. “Only humans can
stop them. Only pure bloods can put an end to this insanity, this hunger.” He twisted on his heels, swung around with knees bent and head cocked, urging King Belford to agree with him. “Do you see?”