Doublesight (38 page)

Lankor laughed. “You will, indeed.” He shook his head and stood.

Zimp reached out and rubbed the back of his arm. “You can do this, big boy.”

The sound of her confidence boosted his spirits. He went over to the door and shook it. The top hinge appeared to be the looser of the two. Shaking his head as he moved, Lankor lay back down, placed his feet high onto the door and stretched his arms over his head and flat against the opposing wall. “Climb aboard,” he said.

39

STORRET HELD HIS BREATH as long as Oronice held to her last breath. His eyes remained closed. When she let go of her physical body and entered the other realm completely, her throat rattled and her chest caved into itself.

Rend said, “She's gone,” talking more to Mianna and Noot than to Storret, who began to let air escape through an open mouth. “Aaaahhhhh…” He held his tone until his lungs began to burn. When he stopped, he held his breath again for a short while then began to inhale. His mind let loose of the physical world enough to allow a moment of pure and complete silence to take over. He tried not to listen, but to hear.

Oronice's hand moved to Storret's knee.

He heard several of the others jump at the sight of Oro's dead hand moving so deliberately. He quickly shoved their surprise and fear from his mind and returned to the silence. The physical contact created a shamanic bond between the two where they could occupy the other realm together, the next realm at least.

Oro's voice came to him as a whisper, the sound of wind through trees or the passage of air over wings. “A great change has come. A great change. I see that death in the physical world strengthens the second realm.”

Storret held to the sound of her voice.

“Death of the doublesight in physical reality will increase the sensitivity and strength of the doublesight in the second realm. Death in the second realm strengthens the third. And so it is. And so it is. The other realms will always lead us to war.”

Storret lowered his head, not wishing to acknowledge or to consider what she said, but only to listen and to record it later.

“Come,” Oro said, and in Storret's mind's eye she appeared to him in crow form. “Crow image is strong now,” he heard her say. She shifted to human image. “This is more difficult, but I will get better. In the next realm I will be human first again.”

She reached for him and Storret allowed what he felt was his auric body to take her hand.

She smiled at him and then turned and they flew off together into a darkness beyond any he had seen.

He held fast, for he feared that, if he should let go, he would be lost in the second realm and could not find his way back. The journey had begun and Storret fought for his mind to stay silent, and equally, he fought for his mind to stay human. In the second realm, his crow image became strong just as Oronice's had.

The two of them floated through the dark space. Storret heard raccoons chatter and geese honk. He recognized other sounds as well: hawks, wolves, thylacines.

Light entered almost as though daybreak had occurred. The animals he had heard were nowhere around but he could feel the presence of their souls. Oronice waved as though she understood his thought and was expelling it.

Oronice pulled him close. They hovered over a great, tall tower surrounded by what appeared to be gravestones. A light snow had fallen and the tower appeared to be serene in the stillness, but something harrowing caused Storret to want to hold back and go no farther.

Oronice took his shoulder in her hand. She held him so that he could concentrate on the images below.

The headstones were not what he originally thought. Each wore a hat of snow that distorted their appearance from where he hovered above them. Slowly, the stones began to turn and look upward as though they knew that he and Oronice watched. Snow fell from their tops and Storret saw the gargoyle faces, each in its own unique sorrow or pain, each begging with its eyes to die. Somehow he knew that was what they begged.

“The Six Shapeless Gods turned these poor children into statues to remind us of our ill deeds. They were to look over The Great Land for eternity. But, the Gods become sloppy and detached from their powers. These stones held to the souls of the children they once were. Those children did not ask to leave and so did not leave completely. These souls are affecting the table of creation once again. They have forced their images into The Great Land once again. Soon, all manner of beast will come into being.” Oronice turned and led Storret back through the darkness of the shamanic journey, and placed him back in the wagon beside her deceased physical body. “You have a question?”

“How do we stop this? How do we help them?”

“This battle against the humans is to save the doublesight clan, but you must also destroy the gargoyle statues and those gargoyles already set free by the pain of these poor children.”

“The doublesight won't fight against themselves. We have been taught…” He recognized there was no need to finish his statement. She had shown him the truth. The difficulty was not to fight the human image only who attacked to kill, but to destroy the doublesight now being born out of the pain of those statues at Memory Tower. He must destroy the sacred Tower. Neither doublesight nor human would want that.

Oronice nodded. She shifted into a crow and said, “Go.”

Storret fell over, exhausted.

Rend climbed into the wagon and lifted Storret's head. “Are you all right? You have been still for several hours.”

Storret opened his eyes and saw that night had fallen around them. “Hours?” he said.

Rend nodded. “First you, and then Noot. He's been that way for a while now.”

Storret could see Noot sitting on the ground outside the wagon. His legs were crossed and his hands placed on his thighs with the palms turned up.

Storret shook his head. “I need to get back to the troops. Let me know when Noot returns. We need to talk.”

“Returns?” Rend said. “Where is he?”

Storret stared at the High Sage. “I don't know where she's taken him,” he said.

Rend helped Storret down from the wagon. His face couldn't hide his confusion, but he didn't ask any more questions. “We'll bury the body,” he said.

“No,” Storret said. “We'll burn the body at sunrise. Leave her there and find Arren.”

“Arren? I didn't think she trusted him.”

“He will be honored to perform such services. It will show that we are on the same side,” Storret said.

Mianna reached out and hugged Storret. She was his same height. “You were born to lead,” she said. “I'm afraid what you may have been told, though.”

“I am afraid as well,” he said. He kissed her cheek and turned to go. He saw that Breel sat against a tree a short distance away. Her head hung to the side and her eyes were closed. Someone had placed a blanket over her.

Rend reached out to touch Storret's forearm. “She waited there for you.”

Storret walked over to her and kneeled. He slid his hand along her arm and stopped where her hand rested against her thigh. He squeezed her hand through the blanket. With his other hand, he touched her leg, leaned slightly, and sat so that he could peer into her eyes.

Breel sucked breath into her lungs and awakened. She straightened her head and rubbed the back of her neck. “Not a good position to sleep,” she said.

“You didn't need to wait,” Storret said.

“I did too.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “Are you all right?”

He shook his head. “Yes and no. I don't know what to do with the experience. I believe a part of me questions whether it really happened.” He pointed toward the wagon. “I'm afraid of the implications.”

“You will know what to do. Oronice does not make mistakes.”

“I'm not worried about her making a mistake. I'm worried about me,” he said.

“You will not make a mistake.” As she spoke her eyes searched his face as though she were trying to memorize it. “I have decided,” she said, “to fight at your side.”

“You can't do that.”

“You'll find that I can be more cunning and ferocious than most of the men.” She stopped. “I have no family now except you. How could you leave me behind?”

“I'm not sure…”

She placed a finger over his lips and he stopped.

Although his heart raced with the thought of his being her family, the situation could only complicate his position. Yet he knew that she was not mistaken in her self-confidence. And she would be the one person he could confide in completely.

She leaned into him and shook the blanket from her shoulder so that she could reach out with both arms to hold him.

Her hair smelled of dried pine needles and wind. Her strong arms reminded him of her strength. And his heart felt as though they were already connected with a thin cord that could never be broken. “You make my body sing,” he said.

“I will never leave your side.” She lifted to her feet, using his shoulder to pull herself up.

Storret caught the blanket as it fell from her. A moist heat escaped her body. He reached for her hand and rose next to her. “How many hours until daybreak?”

“Very few,” she said. “You might want to check with Floom about yesterday. He sent word to wake him once you came out of your trance.”

“It looks like I have a lieutenant.”

Breel led Storret through the forest to where Floom and his clan camped. Many of them slept beneath a lean-to propped against a cedar. Their gear lay all around them. It looked as though they had a late dinner and went to sleep before cleaning up.

“They had a long day, too,” Breel said.

“I hate to wake them this early.” Storret walked around to where Floom slept on his side. When he reached out, Floom's hand came up and grabbed Storet's wrist, halting its movement.

Floom opened his eyes. “I am sorry. My reflexes…”

“No need to be sorry. Those are healthy reflexes to encourage,” Storret said.

“You need only call out my name and I'll awaken.”

“I'll remember that.”

Floom let go of Storret's wrist and sat up. He took a deep breath. “We have much to talk about,” he said.

40

“YOU'RE LYING ON YOUR BACK,” Zimp said.

“My legs are more powerful this way. I'm taking no chances,” Lankor said. “Shift first. Your bird image could lie at my neck and be safe.”

“They'll hear the door break loose. Someone has to answer if they inquire, so I decided to stay in human image. I'd like as much time to prepare as we can get.” Zimp felt unsure of the plan even though it was hers. “I wish I could fit through those bars in my crow image. You wouldn't have to shift at all,” she said.

“Do you get the feeling they were expecting us to arrive?”

“I wish I'd killed Raik with my own sword.”

“And I with my own hands, but both are too late,” Lankor said. He patted his chest. “Well?”

Zimp felt the weight of the air in the dungeon and could only imagine what Lankor must be going through. She heard a whisper and fluttering wings and tried to put both from her mind. She had to concentrate now. She had to help in their escape.

“Are you hearing things again?”

“Not now,” she said. He didn't look convinced. Zimp kneeled next to him and placed her hands on his chest. She swung her leg over him and stretched her arms over her head and around his neck. “Will this be safe?” she said, her face against his breastbone.

He put his arms around her. “I think so.”

“Then get to it. This is not exactly comfortable for me.”

“I'm sorry to inconvenience you, but it was your idea,” Lankor said.

“Don't remind me,” she said. Yet Zimp snuggled closer to his chest and took a deep breath. She liked the way he smelled even after a few days, still a bit smoky from their camps and his last shift. She was concerned that the smell of fire would get much stronger.

“Get ready,” he said.

Zimp let go of the back of his neck and slid her arms down to grab his upper arms. She gripped firmly and attempted to be as small as she could, lie as close to him as possible, although she felt confident that she'd have enough room.

The scent of smoke gripped her first, so she held her breath for as long as she could. She heard him groan with pain and his bones cracked. Holding so close to him, Zimp heard terrible sounds coming from inside his chest, as though his ribs were breaking one at a time. Regardless of the sound, Lankor's body expanded to several times its size. She could tell that he wanted to scream out, that he wanted to move. His heart rate tripled. His body became thick and leathery. She felt his wings slide over her back and head and she closed her eyes tightly.

His legs pushed against the door and his body slid backwards. She imagined his head bent and his shoulder shoved against the back wall. She let her breath out and tried not to breathe in, but she had no choice. She coughed and then fought the urge.

The door screeched as it was pulled from the wall. Then Lankor let out a great breath and the door broke from its frame.

Zimp heard the heavy wood and metal slide along the thick clay floor as it was pushed to the side.

“Hey? What's going on in there?” one of the guards yelled down the hall.

“This place is not safe. The castle wall just shifted,” Zimp yelled back.

“Sounded like somebody dragging a body along the floor,” the guard said.

“I don't care what it sounded like. This place isn't safe. You've got to get us out of here.”

“Can't,” the guard said.

“What are you going to do with us,” Zimp said.

The guard growled, “Don't know. Nobody tell us nothin’.” He banged against the dungeon hall door. “Now shut up.”

Lankor had begun to shift back into his human image and let out a cough and groan.

As soon as she could, Zimp rolled off his chest and stood where the door had once been. “They can't see in here. It's too dark.” She whispered to him and held out her hand.

Lankor waved her away and sat up. He didn't look so good.

“I had room to spare. I didn't even feel the ceiling,” Zimp said.

“That scared the demons out of me,” he said. “I could feel the ceiling. My wings and claws are scraped up from it. I won't be able to do that in the hall.”