Doublesight (27 page)

Brok strolled in a twisting pattern around the camp. He particularly kept his eyes on Raik, who appeared to sleep uneasily for the first few hours. On Brok's fourth or fifth pass, he noticed that Raik had buried himself in his bedroll and calmed into a deeper, quieter sleep. Brok felt comfortable as he handed over his post later that night, and was satisfied to have the chance to sleep a few hours until daybreak. He pulled his blanket back with a shaking, tired hand and slipped under the cloth as quietly as possible.

The killing he had done wore on his thoughts as he fell off to sleep. His anger pushed him to kill, but the passive nature of his father and mother attacked his dreaming thoughts, reminding him of the commandments of life he grew up with. But it wasn't their world any longer.

A rough night with intermittent sleep patterns left Brok drowsy in the morning. So, when he awakened to the sound of a slicing sword and snapping branches, he moved slowly. That sluggishness found him pinned to the ground. The bad teeth and acrid breath of a filth-ridden bandit stared too closely into his face.

As in a dream, Brok glimpsed the slow motion of a heavy staff slap into the side of the man's head. Some evil-scented drool slipped from the bandit's mouth, as he was jolted to the side, leaving Brok enough time to curl his legs and kick the man's chest, and pushing him away. A quick glance around and Brok could see that something
wasn't right. There was no time to ponder, though. A young man came at him from the side and Brok was forced to swing his body out of the way. The man fell forward, a thin blade piercing the ground Brok had occupied.

A sharp growl and swift leap had Therin on the man. The jowls of the thylacine ripped at the man's throat, ending all voluntary movement.

Brok had never seen his brother kill. The wild animal inside Therin had taken over naturally. Nothing could have stopped him. Gaining his bearings, Brok traversed the short distance to his bedroll and snapped up his sword. The cold metal handle felt strange for an instant, then became a part of his arm as he swung it over his head in warning more than battle.

He stood, the blade at his side now. As he lowered his head, Brok let his eyes go soft. His peripheral vision captured the scene. There were only two bandits left to fight. One had cornered Lankor and the other rushed to help. Zimp lay a few feet from her sleeping area and Raik appeared to still be sleeping, his bedroll puffed like it was when Brok turned in the night before.

Therin, driven by instinct, leaped into the air for the attacking man. Lankor paused in surprise of an additional beast entering the fray. With luck the attackers broke pattern as well, allowing both Lankor and Therin to take down an opponent. One snapped a neck, while the other ripped out the throat of his opponent. Blood spit over the ground in a loud sputter.

Brok ran to Zimp and kneeled next to her. He noticed no blood. He lifted her head and she groaned.

Lankor lumbered over. “She'll have a sore head.”

“Did you see what happened?” Brok said.

“She was on watch. I heard her call. When I opened my eyes three of them were bearing down on her. The closest one swung the butt of his scabbard across her head and let her fall.” He poked at Brok with his staff. “You didn't even awaken.”

“I've never slept so soundly,” Brok said.

“That's not a good habit to get into on this trip.”

Brok looked around. “I'm not the soundest sleeper though.” He pointed to Raik.

Zimp turned her head into Brok's shoulder. “Oh.”

Brok stroked her hair back from her face.

Lankor went over to where Raik slept, lifted his bedroll, and chucked it aside. A small mouse ran for the brush. As Lankor began to swing at it with his staff, Brok yelled for him to stop. At that instant, Lankor's face broke into recognition. “That lousy snake.”

“Let him go.” Turning back to Zimp, he said, “Get me some water.”

When Lankor returned, Zimp had already opened her eyes. “What happened?”

“You warned us in time,” Lankor said.

She made a painful smile.

Brok set the water pouch to her lips and she drank a few swallows. “Some leader,” she said.

“We're fine,” Brok said in a low, soft voice, his hand lingering for a moment on her cheek. “Another drink?”

She began to rise and sat up. “Where's Raik?”

“The little bugger shifted. His mouse image ran into the brush,” Lankor said.

Zimp shook her head. “Damn the Gods.” She rubbed her head and reached for the water pouch.

Brok let her take it and watched her drink. He had not noticed how smooth her skin was until touching it and feeling it for himself. Her hair felt thinner, finer, than it looked, as well. He had expected her black hair to be coarse.

“You're looking at me,” she said.

“I want to be sure you're all right.”

“I'm all right, now help me up.” She reached for his arm.

Brok took her hand and forearm and stood at the same time she did.

She let go of him. “I'm stable.”

Brok turned around to assess the situation. Blood had been spilled in buckets. Therin lay in the center of the camp, panting. His muzzle dripped red and his shoulders were matted and damp with blood. He licked and lapped as he breathed. Brok noticed that Lankor also stared at Therin.

“Let's find Raik,” Zimp said. “I want to know what's going on.”

29

LANKOR STARED AT ZIMP, his staff heavy in his hands. She didn't look stable. Brok held her elbow to steady her. “Find him,” she said.

Brok helped her to a sitting position. Therin rose to his feet with a start. “Bandits?” Brok said.

“Don't go far. Stay together.” Zimp took a breath. “And leave Therin with me. I wouldn't want any accidents.”

“He wouldn't…” Brok began.

“I'm not taking that chance. Now go,” she said.

Lankor hefted his staff to his shoulder and led the way through the brush where Raik's mouse image ran. “I hope I don't step on him.”

“That might be the best thing at this point,” Brok said. “I think he skipped out last night. My guess is that he put the bandits up to this, but I don't know why.” Brok touched Lankor's arm and stopped.

Lankor halted and turned in question.

Brok pointed. “Behind that tree. Can you hear him?”

Lankor nodded. Now that they stopped creating their own noise, the distinct sound of Raik's breathing came to him. “I'll go,” Lankor said.

Brok stood fast.

Lankor parted brush that stood between him and Raik. He touched the tree's trunk and leaned to peer around it, seeing the last of a quick movement.

Raik coiled his body away at first and then looked up at Lankor. There was pain in his eyes. He lifted his arm to indicate blood oozing
into his shirt. He nodded and the limp body of a bandit lay a few feet away. “Sh-should be the-the last of them.”

Lankor gave him a questioning look and Raik turned his eyes away. “He cut you with your own blade?” Lankor pointed to Raik's knife, which lay conspicuously close to his leg. “What's going on?”

Brok came around Lankor. “What
is
going on, you two?”

Raik glared at Brok.

“Nothing yet,” Lankor said, giving the little man time to think about what Lankor may have seen. “Let's go back to camp. I don't like leaving Zimp alone.”

“She's with Therin,” Brok said.

“Did you see how he ripped the throats out of those men?”

“I saw how you attacked them,” Brok said. “Should we not trust you any longer?”

Lankor reached for Raik's hand and helped him up. “You and I might have a little talk later.”

As they stepped into the small circle of the campsite, Zimp rose to her feet easily, recovered. “I want to know what you thought you were doing.” She wore her cloak, which gave bulk to her thin body without obscuring her shape.

Lankor found her aggression interesting. Her words burst out with anger, but she leaned on one foot in a relaxed, almost softened stance. It took a moment for him to realize that she appeared as though her feathers were ruffled. He searched for her aura and a hazy outline of a crow's head perched over hers. The vision amazed him. Until recently, he had not seen another beast image in such a way. Trying to save the feeling, he attempted to focus on Brok and then on Raik.

“Stop your prying,” Zimp said with a quick sweep of her arm toward Lankor. Her attention focused toward Raik again. “I mean it. I want to know what you're up to.”

Raik raised his arm to indicate he'd been stabbed.

Zimp brushed his motion off with a shake of her head. “That's not a wound that would stop you from fighting. It's a scratch. I want to know how our best warrior, a Flandian Guard, would be the only one wounded from a surprise attack.”

“Good point,” Brok said.

Lankor didn't understand why, but he felt protective of Raik. Perhaps he was sorry for him. “A mistake in judgment,” Lankor said.

“So you're back with us now? You aren't focusing on our beast images?” she said.

“We should all know what it's like holding to our human image at this point,” Lankor pointed out. “Raik carries double that hunger inside him. If he shifted to his copperhead image and then back, his mouse image would be next. The human that occupies that time would be much less the warrior. We've all seen that lack of grace in him, even if briefly.” Lankor waited for Zimp to think it over. He felt the sharp pain of betrayal. Yet, logically, he wasn't sure what was going on with Raik when he found him behind that tree. He did vow to himself to find out later.

Zimp sighed, then took a deep breath and clenched her teeth. “This time,” she said to Raik. “You will not be out of sight from now on, or until I feel safe around you.” To Brok she said, “Can you control Therin enough to cover Raik?”

Lankor knew already that Brok didn't like the way Zimp asked the question. For some reason, though, Brok didn't combat her wording or her insinuation, he merely replied. “Yes, he can do that.”

“What about how that might look, us having a thylacine in tow?” Lankor said.

“Brok, you are the thylacine trainer. From now on, if we meet with anyone, you're it. I don't want anyone out of my sight any more.” She looked at each of them in turn. “Got it?”

Lankor noticed that none of them looked directly at her, but all acknowledged her order in some way, whether with a nod or a word.

They prepared their horses for travel. Raik rode between them, Lankor taking up the rear. After only a few days he found that his buttocks still hurt from bruises, but by allowing his hips to be free and flowing with the movement of the horse, the overall ride didn't exhaust him as much. He relaxed into the saddle, balanced and almost comfortable.

Raik appeared to be less comfortable in his position. Every time Therin turned his head toward the snake image doublesight, Raik tensed. Not a fun ride for anyone.

Lankor felt sorry for him, but there was little he could do at the moment. Tensions in the group had peaked. All were guarded.

Brok and Zimp led the small group through the woods for two more days. There were no more early morning attacks, and they were all getting edgy with Raik. Even Lankor found himself suspicious. Toward the end of the woods trails, the five doublesight settled into camp for the evening.

“Tomorrow, early, we cross the short plain to Castle Weilk,” Zimp said.

“You don't sound very happy about it.” Brok slid his bedroll closer to the imaginary circle around a non-existent fire. His curly hair knotted into itself in locks. His cheeks pulled back into a broad smile as though he relished in the fact that she worried.

“It's not that,” she said. “Things need to change, or at least appear to change.”

“What's that mean?” Lankor said. “You have a plan?” If so, why had she kept it to herself? Wouldn't it be better had she asked for their thoughts? “Have you been there before?”

“Briefly. When I was younger.” Zimp removed her cloak and placed it across her lap. She spent a moment to peer into the eyes of each of them, taking her time to make contact. When she got to Lankor he felt her hesitate and almost pull her eyes away. He knew that his energy pushed beyond his physical body. Was his dragon energy too strong for her? The long days of travel had him holding closely to his dragon image. He felt the shape of it pushing against his body, but more so against his face. His cheeks and nose, mouth and chin tingled with sensitivity. He knew from the sensation that he could break into beast image at any moment with one quick twist of thought. Pulling back from those feelings let her regroup and turn once again to look into his eyes. She said nothing about what had just happened.

“The old warriors wouldn't believe a woman could lead the group.” She picked up a stick from the ground and pointed it toward Brok. “You'll lead. And don't get too caught up in ordering anyone around. Remember, we're friends.”

Her eyes lifted to Lankor's once again. “You are my older brother. Like it or not, you've got to act a little protective of me. And honestly, this is not the type of place I would like to be left alone anyway.”

“What about me?” Raik said.

“You stick beside Brok. You're a thylacine handler in training. Ask questions, but don't get cocky. Therin could tear you apart before you could shift.”

“I d-doubt that,” Raik said.

“He wouldn't have to,” Brok said. “I would.”

“You forget that I'm of the Flandean Guard,” Raik said.

Zimp stuck her chin toward Raik. “I don't think you want to announce that here. King Belford held back your armies once. A single soldier…” she shook her head.

“I don't like this plan,” Raik said. “We sh-should talk about it. And you didn't say what we're to do h-here. Are we to ask questions? L-look and l-listen?”

Lankor could see that Zimp was about to stand, but she held back. “You don't have any say in the plan. Perhaps you didn't notice, but since we kept you in sight we've had no trouble with bandits. I should let you act like a Flandean Guard. That might take care of some of our trouble.”

“Coincidence,” Raik said.

“Snake,” Brok spit out under his breath.

“There's more,” Lankor said as he kept an eye on Zimp's demeanor. “What is it?”