Doublesight (40 page)

“No,” she said.

“They can appear and disappear in an instant. I can't explain it, but you can't actually watch them for long without losing track of their movements.”

“Too bad we don't have an army of them,” Breel said. “Too bad they can't teach the others how to dance.”

“Except that they can't do the same with a weapon in their hands. Somehow a weapon ties them more solidly to this world. They are fast. And they're tricky. But it's not the same.”

“Will we battle against the humans as humans?” Breel said.

“Both. I've ordered our fighters to shift if that would help them overcome their opponent or help them to escape. Shifting in battle is dangerous at any time. Too fast and you may never leave your animal image; too slow and you're dead before the shift is complete. I've taken the suggestion of Graap, the leader of the rat doublesight. What they do is surround a small group of their fellows and maintain a barrier between them and the battle. Once shifted, the rats can scurry off to safety, run up the legs of the attackers, all sorts of things. It's something that was handed down as a strategy. If we did such a thing for the bird clans, they could fly into the air and return with a wider view of the situation. Strategically, that would give us the advantage.”

Breel placed her hand on Storret's shoulder. “Brilliant,” she said. “You were right when you said we'd learn something different from each clan.”

They stood and turned back to the path. Small practice battles were going on in several clearings, the only places where they could get large numbers of people together. Storret and Breel passed a place where the copperheads fought. Bennek battled alongside of them. His movements were smooth and hypnotic, a snake charmer with the movements of a snake.

“We should meet at noon to discuss mixing the doublesight up for the second half of the day. We shared a lot of battle tips just in the differences we witnessed.” He turned to Breel. “I'll let the north half of them know. Would you tell the southern group?”

She kissed his cheek and jogged off to the south.

Storret watched her leave. He wished she'd stay with Arren and The Few, and hunker down at the council grounds, but she was determined to follow him into battle. And she was one of the best swordsmen he'd ever met. Fremlin had taught all his children well.

Storret reached Floom's group after rounding a grove of wide-based cedars. He stopped short and watched as the hawks practiced shifting while in battle. He shook his head. They were faster than any doublesight he'd ever witnessed. And they appeared to be totally
conscious of their human image when they snapped back. The only problem he saw was that the hawks were a little slow to get airborne from the ground.

“Storret.” Floom waved him over.

“What do you think? I'm sure we can help to train other doublesight to shift more quickly. It's a mental practice we've learned as children.” Floom's eyes were bright and eager. “It's quite simple really, but does take a little practice.”

“We'll talk about it at noon, in my camp around Oro's wagon.”

“I'll be there,” Floom said.

“One thing I noticed,” Storret said.

“What's that?”

“Who will protect you until you get into the air?”

Floom grinned. “We're not as quick to fly off as crows, if that's what you mean.”

“I wasn't trying to say…”

“I know, I know.” He turned around and yelled, “Sloat, Woss, Bresh, show Storret how we get skybound.”

Sloat, Woss, and Bresh stopped battling long enough to separate from the other hawks. The three of them set a pose and began to fight. Quickly, Sloat stepped to the side, grabbed Woss's free arm and shifted. Woss's arm lowered only slightly from the weight as he continued to swordfight with Bresh. Bresh purposely tried to strike at Sloat, but Woss's strategy changed from offence to defense as he protected the bird. Suddenly, Woss bent at his knees, struck at Bresh with his sword, and pitched Sloat over his head and into the open air.

Sloat flew into a low branch of a nearby cedar and waited.

Floom said, “Well, what do you think?”

Storret stood transfixed, looking up at Sloat. “Amazing. If you could teach us all to shift like that, we'd frighten the souls right out of the humans.” After saying humans, Storret stopped short. He lowered his head.

“I know that sounds terrible. We are all human first. What we must do pains me as well.” Floom motioned for Sloat to return to practice, then said to Storret, “What has made us so horrible that we must be killed like animals?”

“Even we kill animals for food,” Storret said.

“The Great Land has many mysteries, many horrors, and many pleasures,” Floom said.

“There are times when I don't want to experience them all.”

“Me as well, my friend, me as well,” Floom said.

“Noon,” Storret said, before leaving. A short distance down the path and Breel came running toward him. “Hurry. This way.”

Storret ran to her and grabbed her arm. “What is it?”

“One of the foxes tried a fast shift during battle and appears to have remained in beast image.”

Storret turned back, ran until he felt Floom could hear, and yelled for the hawk image doublesight to follow him and Breel. In a moment, a hawk flew over their heads. Turning into the clearing, a band of foxes kneeled in a circle. “Spread out,” Storret said as he rushed into the circle.

Floom dropped to the ground and shifted into his human image.

“What do you do?” Storret asked him.

The fox image kneeled on the ground, shaking. A fox in human image had a hand on the animal's back and another hand stroking its head and neck.

Floom stared for a moment. “For us, you must start before you shift. You must concentrate and repeat…”

“Repeat what?” Storret said.

“It's simple, really, we repeat the name of a loved one. Someone special. And we imagine them in human form while doing so. I don't know, but somehow that keeps us firmly connected to our human image even during a quick shift. Coming back is easy then.”

Storret looked to the person stroking the fox's head.

The man closed his eyes. “She's my wife,” he said.

“What's your name?”

“Radmal,” he said.

Storret looked around. “Everyone, stare at Radmal, repeat his name over and over. Detail his face as you do so, imagine someone you love. Feel the love that…”

“Seana,” Radmal said.

“That Seana has for her husband.” Storret closed his eyes and recreated Radmal's face in his mind. He allowed the love he felt for Breel to fill his heart. Then he began to repeat out loud, “Radmal,
Radmal, Radmal…” in the sweetest voice he could make, as though he loved Radmal as much as he loved Breel.

Soon the other foxes and Floom and Breel were whispering Radmal's name as well.

Storret placed a hand over Seana's head and willed the vibration of his words and his heart to move down his arm and into her. He entered the other realm more easily than he thought was possible. In that realm he stood beside Seana and whispered in her ear. Over and over, Storret chanted in two realms. The others chanted Radmal with feeling until one of the foxes interrupted the chant. “Look.”

Storret opened his eyes and Seana's arm was human.

Her legs lengthened. Her hair grew longer as the redish fox fur stretched. Her smooth cheek twitched in the pain of the shift.

Tears streaked down Storret's face. Several of the foxes cried openly.

Floom shook his head as though he couldn't believe it. “What have you done, my friend?”

“Thank you,” Storret said to Floom. “We must all learn this. Why it was not part of all of us I do not know.” He turned to Breel and she collapsed into his arms.

Seana reached for her husband.

Radmal held to Seana with one arm and reached his other across her body to grip Storret's hand. Nothing was said.

“Could we do this for Therin?” Breel said.

Storret's chest tightened into a fist. Floom answered before Storret was forced to. “It will be too late,” he said.

“We could try,” she said. “You didn't think this would work.”

Floom turned his eyes from her. “If that would make you happy,” he said.

“We'll do everything we can,” Storret said.

As the group began to break up and Seana rose to her feet, several rat doublesight scurried into the clearing. “Come quickly. A lookout has spotted a thylacine running this way.”

“Therin,” Breel screamed out. She ran after the doublesight, following them northward.

Storret turned to Radmal. “Rest. All of you,” he said, then ran with Floom after Breel.

Just north of the practice clearing, rat doublesight lined the path with swords ready. “Is that him?” Storret asked Breel, even while pulling his sword from its sheath.

“No. It's Brok.” She ran toward her brother and kneeled for him to leap into her arms.

The thylacine panted. Its chest heaved. It let out a yelp and a short growl as Storret stepped closer.

“He's not shifting,” Storret said.

“He is,” Breel said. “Slowly though. He's exhausted, but I can feel the shift occurring.”

Storret stood back with Floom and the others as he watched Brok twist and stretch during the shift. Legs stretched and became arms. His torso expanded and contracted as he heaved. A human cough escaped his mouth even though Storret couldn't see his head, which was cradled in Breel's arms.

“Oh,” she said with relief. “He's fine.”

She looked back at Storret, who was forced to say what she couldn't say, “Where's Therin?”

Brok pushed into a kneeling position and held to Breel's shoulders. “Therin's dead,” he said between breaths. “He saved my life. He retained human thought to the end. I know he did.”

Breel cried, turned away, and fell to the ground.

Storret went to her.

Brok looked at him in question. But when Breel climbed into Storret's arms, Brok's expression turned to understanding. “It is a time of sorrow, I know. But we must move soon. Castle Weilk harbors a mad gryphon, the king's son.”

“King Belford? A gryphon?” Floom stepped forward.

Brok nodded. “Not a dragon. And they've captured Lankor and Zimp.”

“How did you escape? What happened to Raik? Where's he?” Storret said.

“Raik is a traitor. He's probably leading them to you at this very minute. I escaped because I went back to save Therin.”

“And then he saved you,” Breel said.

“Family first,” Brok said. “Now, I stay with you.”

42

LANKOR HELD A BAR in each hand. The look of surprise on the guards’ faces was enough for him to know that they either saw in his face or sensed in his stance that there was no turning back from this battle.

Zimp crouched near a bench behind them all.

Lankor blocked a swing from one of the swords that came at him from the side. The ceiling hung much too low to get a good overhead swing, and Lankor sensed the awkwardness of the guard's attack. They were at the disadvantage.

Lankor placed his swing across the back of one guard's neck, the bar cracking bones loudly. That guard down, Lankor brought both bars together in front of him on either side of the second guard's jaw line. Another fatal blow. Blood gushed from the man's mouth as his knees gave out and he slumped to the floor.

Lankor swung around and reached down for one of the swords. He handed it to Zimp. “Who in the name of the Six Shapeless Gods were you talking to?”

Zimp's eyes filled with tears. “Oronice is dead.”

“You knew that before.”

“But I saw her. I felt her words. They were everywhere in this room.” Zimp's lips quivered.

“What'd she say?”

“I don't know.”

“But, if you heard her…” Lankor picked up the other sword from the ground.

“I felt her words in my chest and arms. Along my neck. It was about Memory Tower. The souls of the statues are pushing through to this realm.”

Lankor stopped moving. What was she saying? What did it mean? “You're hearing too many voices from the other realms. You haven't been able to decipher them up to now. Why do you believe this story?”

“It's not a story.” A fire appeared behind her eyes. “You don't trust it, do you? You don't trust me.”

“It doesn't matter.” Lankor pulled her up by her elbow. “We've got work to do. I'm not waiting down here for another second.”

Zimp stopped him. “Is there a human in your bloodline?”

Lankor couldn't answer the question. He performed a quick memory search and found no answer. “I don't know.”

“You could be one of them,” she said. Then she reached out and hugged him, squeezing his body close to hers.

Lankor felt his heart race and the blood run to the surface of his body. He loved her touch, but it wasn't right. He didn't want to like it at all. What if one of them died? There was no time to consider anything but their mission. Draklan and the three sisters were a threat to The Great Land, a threat to the doublesight. A war could wipe out their race. It must be stopped now.

Lankor shoved her away. “Your visions are getting in the way of your sanity. We've got to go.” He led the way through the next hall. The walls in some areas brushed his arms on both sides of his body. He felt the fear of death rise inside him. It slowed his progress.

Zimp's hands touched his back. “Keep going.”

They heard guards talking near the entrance to the dungeon. Another passage broke off to the right. Lankor pivoted on one foot and flattened his back against the wall. “I don't remember another door.”

“I do,” Zimp said.

Lankor had been so preoccupied by the pressure of the walls and ceiling that he walked with his eyes closed much of the way to their cell. He felt ashamed. Zimp was not to be trusted to know what was going on. He should have paid closer attention. “Now what?”

Zimp charged toward the door and yelled out, “Hey, your friends back there might need some help.”

Lankor held back.

“How did you get outta there?” a guard said. The door bolt rattled loose and the door opened. “Get her!”

Lankor heard several men run into the opening. He jumped out and ran to take position in front of Zimp. They would never get past him. Still holding one of the bars, he slammed the first guard in the ear and lifted his sword through the crotch of the second guard as the man tried to step over the first. The third guard turned to run.