Doublesight (37 page)

Tears streamed down his cheeks. He wished Breel could have seen Therin one last time. She would have known what to say. Brok thought that he might have invoked the Shapeless Gods, but rejected the thought. Where were they? Had The Great Land fallen under natural rule? Were boundaries breaking down? Would the whole land revert back to the horrors of the past? Brok had never been to Memory Tower, but had heard that sickening beasts had lived there at one time. They created statues for themselves and their brothers until they died out and no other gargoyles were to be born again. That was supposed to include dragons and gryphons. What other horrible doublesights had been born? Was Memory Tower a breeding ground for monsters?

Brok tensed as he noticed that his mount slowed. He glanced behind him. The council had to be warned immediately. He rode off,
and time collapsed within the rocking of the powerful beast he rode. The horse had only stumbled once and that was about an hour ago. Brok sensed the horse's fatigue as he pulled the reins and forced it to run toward the forest. His mount might have been less likely to run full-out through the woods, but Brok would feel more comfortable.

As expected, his horse slowed considerably as it approached the edge of the woods. It jumped a log and stumbled, catching itself to keep from toppling forward over Brok. The motion awakened Brok's mind. He couldn't be caught unaware again. He pulled up on the reins and lifted up so that he could see ahead. The woods were dark and his horse exhausted. He pushed on mercilessly, kicking the horse's sides. The hope was that the horse could see better than he could.

The grade ascended and the horse pushed with its hindquarters, letting out deep groans as it did so. Its neck was sopping, and foam dropped from its lips. Brok recognized the sound of its fatigue and pulled it around to tackle the mountain at a lesser grade. In an hour, the horse stumbled forward. This time Brok didn't try to keep it upright. He let it crumble to the ground.

Pushing off from its back, Brok induced a quick shift. His body pulled into itself, his snout grew long and, before he hit the ground, he met the surface with four paws. He continued to run up the mountain at the slight grade, but soon turned to take it straight on. Behind him, the horse lay still. He had no time to check on its safety, but he hoped that it would live.

38

THE SWORD THAT WAS POISED near Lankor's neck dropped to rest on his shoulder, and through the flat blade he could feel the shaking hand at the other end. It took his mind off the beauty before him, but only for a moment. The piercing hazel eyes of the three held his attention. The naked bodies enticed his interest, even the two who were pregnant. Then the sword that once pushed into his side dropped, clanging against the stone floor. The guard stepped backward. The other guards made no sound; if anything, they stood more transfixed and motionless.

One of the sisters stepped forward and pointed at Lankor's guard. “Later for you,” she said and the man ran off, only to be stopped near the door.

Zimp turned her head away and bent to one knee. Her guard let go of her as she lowered and puked onto the stone, the horrible wretching sound filling the cavernous throne room. Zimp spit and cried openly. “Help me, Oronice,” she begged, but from Lankor's view, she appeared to receive no answer.

The sisters all laughed at the same time. They let their robes drop and rounded their backs.

“Wings,” Lankor whispered. If Raik's beheading hadn't caused Zimp to vomit, then what had she seen of these women's beast images that caused such an evacuation? The guard closest to Lankor shuddered as the sisters allowed a slow shift to begin.

First, their hair became grey and their faces pale, but no beast was yet visible. Lankor waited almost out of curiosity for something to happen. Then, their feet narrowed and lengthened. Three claws
protruded from the front, one out the back. Birds. But a large one, because their bodies had not shriveled like Zimp's had done. No, not birds. Lankor then caught the stench of their change, a body odor that reeked of human feces and urine. The sisters’ breasts sagged under their own weight, and flattened. Their thighs became extremely hairy, as did their arms. Bent into a crouching position, scraggly wings, chipped and dirty with gaps of missing feathers, almost popped out of their backs. The once beautiful women shifted into hags. Horrible, stench-ridden hags with claws and wings.

Harpies, Lankor realized when his mind finally put it all together. He held back his own instinct to puke. He swallowed and stared. He placed a hand over his mouth and nose to ward off some of the odor. What he saw before him, what he stared at and could hardly believe left too many possibilities opened. Had Raik and Draklan been correct? Lankor lowered his head and peered at his own body. Was he an awful mutation returning to The Great Land?

“You, my lovely man,” one of the hags said in a graveled voice, “are to be mine before long.”

“No, he's mine,” another of the sisters said while reaching out with her gnarled fingers and long dirty nails to scratch at her sister.

“Mine,” the first one said stretching an equally nasty arm toward the other.

“Stop.”

Lankor had not seen the man dressed in a general's garb enter the room. The man stood far to the side, his face worn as King Belford's had been. His stance, though, was stronger and more assured.

“Daddy,” the sisters stopped fighting and almost fell into tears. One said, “We're horrible girls.” The screech in her voice pained Lankor's ears. “Monsters,” wept another.

The general was also in tears. “Enough,” he said shaking his head. “My girls. My sweet girls. We will care for you later.” He turned to go and drifted into a dark corner of the room.

The harpies huddled together. One spoke. “But I'm hungry,” she said, and as though they had forgotten their father's presence, their tears stopped and their faces turned eagerly toward the captors and guards once again.

“Enough,” the father said from the dark, not gone after all, but watching.

The three lowered their heads and began to shift. Their voices squealed and sang out in great pain. Their wings retracted with severity, cutting their way back into the harpies’ backs. Blood dripped down one of the girl's sides. Each face clenched in its own torturous agony, eyes closed. Gravely voices became those of young women strapped and prodded by strange and invisible instruments. Tears flowed and more blood appeared at their feet as the claws turned in on themselves. One of the girls began to shake her head and scream, “No, let me die. Let me die.”

The strangeness and pain evident in the room frightened Lankor. He didn't know how he might help. He looked to Zimp for answers, but again she was gone into another realm, her eyes shoved closed in either fear or in search of Oronice. Her head shook back and forth slowly to the rhythm of the harpies’ cries.

The sisters huddled together on the ground, naked once again. The smoothness of their skin had been punctured. Blood seeped out and down their bodies. Their faces held to the pain, pulled back, eyes tight and teeth showing. They were not so beautiful now. They were frightening to Lankor, in a sad and pitiful way.

“Remove them,” one of the sisters said in a weakened voice.

The guards who had remained with their captors reached out to Lankor and Zimp and pulled them away.

Zimp rose to her feet and followed in a slow stupor.

Fatigue had taken over Lankor's body and soul. His thoughts wandered. His muscles had drained of their strength in the presence of such beasts.

The guard shoved Zimp ahead and out of the room. The sisters cried openly, their voices echoing into the hallway.

Another turn and the guard forced Zimp down a set of stairs that ran along the rear of the castle. She tripped and fell down a few steps. Lankor tried to rush to her, but the flat of a sword to the side of his face knocked him into the wall.

Blood appeared on Zimp's lip. Her guard stepped in front of her, swearing to himself. He drew her arm around his neck and continued on. Several flights more and they came to an opening. A heavy wooden
door stood before them, flanked by benches. Four enormous men with broadswords looked up. Two guarded the door while the other two rested on the benches. The door was opened and the guards and doublesight entered the dungeon where low ceilings, dirt floors, and bone-chilling dank air welcomed them.

Lankor ducked his head. Although his human height didn't warrant it, his dragon image extended well beyond his human image. Regardless what Draklan had said, questioning Lankor's beast image, he must have known the truth. It would be impossible for Lankor to shift in here. He would be trapped at best, crushed at worst.

The guards continued deeper below the castle and the ceiling dipped even more.

Lankor's breathing became pained. He heard a cell door open and was thankful they weren't forced any deeper. Zimp was shoved into the cell first, and Lankor shoved after her. One guard bolted the door while the other looked on.

The guard who bolted the door said, “We didn't always feel this way about the doublesight. King Belford had taken one for a wife, you know. We had a greater trade from all kind over The Great Land. Times were good. Draklan turned one day and killed ‘is own mother. Struck ‘er, then ate her, is what I heard.”

Lankor listened without a sound.

“Leave ‘em, my friend,” the other guard said. “Only the Gods know what this is about, and they ain't been here to stop it yet.”

The guard addressing Lankor turned to go and Lankor cried out, “Wait. What about the sisters?”

“He don't need to know,” the second guard said.

“Don't matter.” The man turned back. “General Lansion is King Belford's brother. He was a great man and a great warrior and peacemaker.” The man waved his hand in front of his face. “Don't care what you say; he was both. He and the king had been through many battles together. They both took doublesight wives. That was when the doublesight were revered. We had our own doublesight sages, doublesight families lived inside the castle walls. After the general's wife died, the doublesight saw what might happen and ran. It's said that they were throwin’ monsters, too, and didn't want no one to find out.”

“And Lansion's wife?” Lankor said in a tone that belied his curiosity.

“Come on. He don't need…”

“Mad. She went completely mad and leaped from the top of the castle. That's when it all began to get worse.” The man placed a hand over one of the bars. “Tell you the truth, I think the sisters have tranced the general. Done somethin’ with his mind. He ain't the same as he was. He feeds them human stock. He cares for them like they ain't the monsters they are.” He turned once again. “That's why I won't look at ‘em. Don't want to be called into them arms of death.”

“Are you done? ‘Cause I don't want to get caught with you talkin’ like this.”

“I'm comin’.”

“Why?” Lankor said.

“The sages all believe it's coming from Memory Tower. Some evil is spreading from the graveyard up there, from all them statues of horrible beasts. It was once thought that a doublesight could only shift if the animal were alive. The images at Memory Tower is so strong, what if all you need is an image that
looks
alive?” The man looked Lankor square in the face. “The gargoyles is comin’ to take over The Great Land.”

Lankor watched them both leave. Were they that confident that there was no escape for him and Zimp? When he swung around and saw Zimp huddled in the corner, he wondered what good she would be. Perhaps they knew as well. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Zimp, come out of it. You've got to come back.”

To his surprise, Zimp's eyes lifted slowly and met his. He witnessed them as they cleared and became conscious of the physical world.

“Are we safe?” Zimp asked.

“I wouldn't say that,” Lankor said. He slipped his thumb over the blood from her lip, scraping it off.

She reached up and touched the place he cleaned. “I hardly felt it.”

“Lucky you. It looked as though it hurt pretty badly.”

“And now?” She cocked her head.

“It's pretty dark to tell for sure, but it doesn't look so bad in this light.”

“Light?” she said.

Lankor nodded, “Several lanterns where the guards stay at the other end of the hall.

“They left us alone. That means they believe we're trapped here.”

“Yes, and I can see why,” Lankor said.

“I couldn't break through, but you could if only…”

Lankor glanced around the room in dismay. “I couldn't shift in here. I can hardly stand being here in my human image.”

“It is rather tight.” Zimp stood and paced the room off. “How tall is your dragon image?” Then before he could answer, she said, “I know…lie down.”

“What?”

“Lie down. Put your feet against the door.”

“By the Six Shapeless Gods woman, you'll have me crushed to death,” he said.

“Just try it.”

Lankor lay on his back with his feet against the door. His head almost touched the other side of the cell, and the width was much less. He began to rise.

“Stay there,” Zimp said. “Let me see.” She walked along his body.

Lankor moved to his right to allow her enough light from the hallway for her to examine the situation. Now he understood what she asked of him. He held still and pushed his dragon image as close to shifting as he felt comfortable doing. He had to avoid initiating a shift.

Zimp stepped backwards until she touched the side wall. “This will be close.”

“Will be? I'm not in favor of it.”

“We've got to try,” she said. “That's the only choice we have.”

“Brok will come for us,” Lankor said without conviction.

“We can't even assume he's alive.”

“We must,” Lankor said.

“You'll either overpower that door, or we'll both be crushed,” she said.

“Even if I do shove through that door, the hallway is narrower. What about the next door?” He sat upright and crossed his legs. “You may be crushed anyway.”

She reached and touched the ceiling. “It's close,” she said, “but I'll shift and stand between your wings. I'll have plenty of room if you don't flatten them out.”