Sentinel - Progression Series 11 Pilgrimage Part 2

by Beth Manz

Blair returned the grin. “Exactly.”

  Jim trailed slightly behind Blair, letting his guide lead the way. He didn’t think Sandburg was aware of just how determined he appeared as they traveled, but Jim couldn’t help but notice. There wasn't so much as the slightest hesitation in his partner’s stride, never any doubt in his change of direction. They simply hiked along, Blair stopping only briefly from time to time to look around, then they would head in a slightly different direction.

  And Jim never questioned the changes; he just kept up.

  He continued to glimpse the panther from time to time, the lithe animal moving with them, pacing them. He was amazed at the ease with which he now viewed his spirit guide. For the first time, he realized that he'd truly come to think of the animal as a part of himself. But as he turned his attention back to his partner, he couldn’t help but wonder if Blair would ever accept the wolf the same way.

  How can I change that?

  “Blair,” he began, knowing he could no longer keep his concern to himself, “have you given any more thought to why you can't accept the spiritual side of yourself?”

  Blair’s step didn't even slow. “We already talked about this, Jim. Remember?”

  “Yes. And I know you're scared. But I've seen you scared before, Chief. And you've never let that stop you. I've never met anyone in my life more curious than you. You dig and dig to get to the bottom of everything…except this."

  Blair continued to walk, but his back had become tight, rigid, and his hands had curled into fists at his sides.

  "In fact,” Jim continued, “whenever you've needed the answers to things before, you've dragged half of Rainier's library home in order to conduct research. Why haven't you done that with this shaman stuff?”

  “Jim...” There was a warning tone in Blair’s voice. But Jim ignored it and plunged on.

  “You told me you were afraid of what you might have to do, or become, if you accepted the role of shaman. That you were afraid of the unknown. But why is it still unknown to you, Blair? You could have easily had the answers by now if you'd really wanted them."

  Blair stopped so suddenly Jim nearly plowed right into him. “Jim, I don’t--”

  “Incacha said he passed on the way of the shaman to you,” Ellison pressed on, his voice overriding Blair’s. “He wanted you to watch over my spirit guide and you’ve never looked into it at all. I think I deserve to know why.”

  Finally, Blair turned to face him, his eyes searching Jim’s. Looking for.…

  What! Jim wanted to scream. What won’t you tell me!

  “Come on, Sandburg. Fear has never stopped you before. There's more to this. I can see it on your face, so just say it.”

  “Fine,” Blair grated out. “You really want to know?” He expelled a harsh breath. “Do you remember when the Chopec left?” he asked, his tone suddenly bitter. “After Incacha died?”

  “Yes,” Jim said simply.

  “They told you that you were no longer their sentinel but the sentinel of the Great City. I laughed and suggested to you that that made me the shaman of the Great City." Blair's expression took on an angry, determined edge. "You should have seen the look on your face when I said that, Jim. Believe me, I got the message.”

  “Message? What message?”

  “It was clear you didn’t want to talk about what had happened with Incacha. You just wanted to forget all about it. So we did. And as time passed, I thought it would just fall behind us and be forgotten. And it was...until we shared that vision at the fountain.” He shook his head. “I honestly thought that when you came to see me at the hospital, after everything that had happened, we’d finally talk about Incacha, about the spiritual side of our relationship. But...you didn’t.”

  Jim could hear the hurt in Blair’s voice, could see it in his eyes and posture. He wished he could go back and change what had happened, what he had done...and hadn’t done. “Blair--”

  “You said then that you weren’t ready to take that trip with me. But I think what you meant was that you'd never be ready. And I knew why.”

  Jim raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Because I wasn’t Incacha.”

  “What?” Jim blurted out, stunned by his guide’s words. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I know what he meant to you, Jim. How much he helped you during those days in Peru. And I knew you felt I couldn’t be what he was to you. That I could never be as good a shaman…whatever that entailed…as Incacha had been.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Jim, please understand--I’m not talking about being your partner or friend or even your guide. I know where I stand in all those areas and I don't doubt what we have between us. But right now I’m talking about this”--he indicated the world around them--"the spiritual side, the keeper of your animal guide, your shaman. You had Incacha for that and when you lost him, you didn’t want me. You didn’t believe I could do it.”

  Blair shrugged half-heartedly. “It’s okay, man. I used to wonder myself if Incacha hadn't made a big mistake in choosing me. But after what happened with the wolf on that mountainside, I have to say that we were probably both right. Incacha may have been a wise man, but he sure made a lousy choice that day in the loft.” And with that, Blair turned and began walking again.

  Jim started after him. “Blair, wait. When Incacha grabbed you--”

  “Jim.” Blair stopped and, with his back to the sentinel, held up one hand, cutting off his words. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I don't know why Incacha has even put me here"--again he indicated the forest surrounding the two men. "He can talk all he wants about how I've lost my way, but I think he's wrong. I don't think the role of shaman was ever meant for me.”

  Blair could feel Jim just behind him, keeping step, watching him. They hadn’t talked since Jim had pushed him into admitting the truth about his continuing doubts regarding this journey and his place in this spiritual world of the sentinel universe.

  He had never voiced his doubts before because he knew it would hurt his partner. But more than that, he knew Jim would have no choice but to deny what Blair was feeling. To try to convince him that he was wrong. And Blair didn’t want that. Because there was nothing Jim could say that would erase what he felt deep inside.

  I don’t belong here. I never did.

  He pushed through the underbrush, stepped into a clearing...and stopped dead in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the deep ravine just ahead.

  A hand touched the center of his back. “You okay, Chief?”

  “Not really.” He looked up and back at Jim, who stood just behind him, then gestured toward the ravine. “I can’t cross that, man.”

  Jim stepped around his guide and took in the scene before him. A deep crevasse in the earth stretched out as far as the eye could see. Stepping up to the edge, Jim looked down. The canyon was deep, and at the bottom a river wound laconically around boulders and fallen logs.

  "There's no way we can get down the side, Chief," Jim announced from the cliff edge. "It's too steep."

  "Then what are we going to do?"

  Jim clenched his jaw as he considered their limited options. He turned to his left and narrowed his eyes as a structure of some sort caught his eye. "There’s a bridge down there,” he said, pointing to their left. "We can cross using that."

  Blair followed Jim's gaze and found himself staring at the flimsiest looking rope bridge he’d ever seen in his life. “You must be joking.” He moved toward the bridge, keeping safely away from the edge of the ravine but needing to get a better look. Jim followed just behind him, staying close. Blair stopped at the entrance of the bridge and waited for Jim to step up beside him. "Absolutely, no way," he announced. "Look at this thing! The rope is frayed and half the planks along the bottom are missing. There is no way we’re using this.”

  Jim shrugged and placed a hand on Blair's shoulder. “Well, Sandburg, you’re the one choosing the direction here. If you say we don
’t have to cross, then we don’t cross.”

  The shoulder beneath Jim's hand slumped ever so slightly. “Well, now, that’s the whole problem, Jim.” Blair’s gaze shifted to the other side of the gorge. “We do have to cross." He looked up at his partner. "Wherever we’re going, whatever it is I have to do--it's on the other side of this ravine.”

  Jim grimaced then conjured up an encouraging smile. “Okay, then. Guess we cross.” He clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry, Chief. I’ll get you to the other side.” He smiled down at his guide. “You just stay behind me and hold on.”

  “Hold on,” Blair repeated sarcastically, nodding his head. "Any other words of wisdom you'd like to impart?"

  “Yeah," Jim added, waggling his eyebrows. "Don't look down."

  “Funny, man. Hey, can’t I just hold on and close my eyes?”

  Jim laughed. “Sandburg, I don’t think either one of us could get across this thing with our eyes closed.”

  Blair stared at the gaps between the boards again. And as he watched, the wind kicked up and the rickety bridge began to sway gently back and forth. His stomach twisted with nausea as he watched. “Oh, man.”

  Jim turned to him, his expression serious now. “You going to be able to do this, Chief?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I can do this,” Sandburg answered with more conviction than he felt. “Just lead the way.” But even as Blair said the words, Jim’s expression…changed. A deep frown pulled at the corners of the sentinel's mouth and his brow wrinkled in obvious concern.

  “Jim? What's wrong?”

  “Um, I think we might have a problem here," Jim whispered. "Chief? I can't see."

  “What do you mean you can’t see? You mean you've lost your heightened sense of sight?” Blair huffed out an annoyed breath. "Well, I suppose we shouldn't be too surprised," he rambled, thinking aloud. "After all, you've lost your heightened sense of touch and hearing, so--”

  “Sandburg," Jim interrupted. "I'm not talking about my heightened senses here." He raised a hand and waved it before his own eyes. “I’m blind.”

  "Blind? As in totally blind?" Sudden anger pulsed through Blair. “Okay, that’s it. I’m tired of this.” He turned in a slow circle, his gaze sweeping the landscape all around them. “Do you hear me!” he shouted. “I’m tired of this! If this test is supposed to be for my benefit, then quit messing with Jim!”

  “Sandburg--”

  “No, Jim,” he said, cutting him off before he could speak. “If I’m supposed to be the one who’s tested, then why are you the one being hurt?”

  “I’m not being hurt.”

  “You’re blind!” Blair exploded. “You call that not being hurt?”

  “Okay, listen…I think I know what's happening here." Jim reached out, groping for Blair.

  “Here, man.” Blair grabbed his hands and placed them on his shoulders. “I’m right here. And I'm listening. Let's hear this theory you have.”

  "I think I was blinded because I was going to take the lead."

  "But why would that make a difference?"

  Jim squeezed at the shoulders he now held. “Blair,” he began softly, “think about it. This is your journey. I think that if we’re going to get across that ravine, then you have to be the one to lead us over.”

  Blair raised his eyebrows, then shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of dismissal. “Well, then, we’re not crossing it.”

  “You were ready to go a minute ago.”

  “Yeah, when you were leading. Now you can’t even see.” His gaze shifted to the bridge. It continued to sway gently in the wind. “You said it yourself.” He looked back up at his partner. “Neither one of us could cross with our eyes closed. I’m not about to risk you that way. We’ll just wait for your sight to come back.”

  “I don’t think it's going to return, Chief. Not until we've crossed to the other side.”

  “Then I’ll find a way around it. I’ll—“

  “There is no other way. Come on, Blair. You can do this,” Jim said, his voice firm. “You can get us both across. I trust you.”

  Blair looked up into Jim’s unseeing eyes, wanting to believe what he was hearing. But in his heart, he still carried the doubt he’d felt ever since Jim’s initial rejection of the gift Incacha had passed on to him. I can't lead you in this way, Jim. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. He closed his eyes and fought against a fierce rush of emotions...because deep down he knew it would be his doubt and fear that would now keep them from crossing that bridge and completing this journey.

  “I’m sorry,” he choked out at last. “I just can’t do this, Jim.” He tried to move away from Jim but the hands on his shoulders tightened, becoming almost painful.

  “Blair, when Incacha grabbed you--”

  “Jim, don’t--”

  “Just hear me out this time,” Jim insisted, not releasing the tight grip he had on his guide, forcing him to stay and listen. “When he grabbed you, I could see the fear, the uncertainty on your face. I knew I couldn’t help you with whatever it was he was passing on to you. I’d been in this world before. I knew it existed, that this mystical side was real. And I knew it was powerful.

  “So Blair, it wasn’t that I didn’t think you could handle what Incacha was passing on to you. I was just afraid for you. I knew when I made the decision to be a sentinel that there would be no going back. Once I accepted my role, that was it for me. My life was locked in one direction and although I didn’t regret it, I never wanted that for you. I wanted you to have a choice, Blair. I never wanted you locked into something you couldn’t change. I…I wanted you to be able to walk away…if you ever wanted to.”

  Blair blinked up at Jim in astonishment as the sentinel fell silent again. “You think I could walk away from you--that I would walk away from you--now, ever?”

  “Not as my friend, no. But right now we’re linked by our friendship more than anything else. This spiritual bond--I don’t really know what that means for us. But I know that if the decision you have to make is anything like mine--once it's made, it's made.”

  Blair looked across to the other side of the ravine, thought about what Jim had just told him. “Well, I guess there's only one way to find out…."

  "Chief…."

  "No, Jim. I don't know what's in store, either." He reached up and lay his hand against Jim's chest. "But I'm ready to find out."

  "You're sure?"

  Blair laughed. "Would I be crossing a bridge made out of what amounts to a roll of dental floss and a box of toothpicks if I weren't?"

  Jim chuckled and released Blair's shoulders. "Okay. I guess we know what we have to do, then."

  "Right," Blair answered, surveying the bridge again. "All right, Jim, I'm going to have to go first here. You ready?"

  "I always follow your lead, Chief," Jim said with an encouraging smile. "Let's do this."

  Grabbing the sentinel by the arm, Blair led him forward. “Okay, you saw the broken planks and the gaps. You think you can remember where all the tough spots are?"

  “No problem.”

  “Good. We’re going to take this one step at a time. I’m going to tell you every time we come to a spot with a missing plank. All I need you to do is widen your step. I’ll help guide you, but you have to keep in mind the size of those things.”

  “I can do that, Chief.”

  “Good,” Blair said again. He secured one of Jim’s hands on his shoulder and the other on the bridge. “You just hold onto the railing and onto me. We’ll take it real easy here.”

  They moved onto the bridge, Blair taking it slowly. He kept his gaze forward, glancing down only briefly before taking each step, checking the planks at his feet, directing Jim over each broken or missing board. He made a concentrated effort to ignore the deep ravine and the river below, to focus only on the planks and the gaps at his feet.

  Thankfully, the wind had died down and the bridge was relatively steady as they made their way across. But just as they reached the midway point, a gust o
f wind blasted over them. The bridge began to sway back and forth, the ropes creaking and moaning under the strain. Blair froze.

  Breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest, he stood perfectly still. The hand on his shoulder tightened.

  “Sandburg?” Jim’s voice came from behind him, confused, worried. “Sandburg? What’s happening?”

  Blair couldn’t force any words past the sudden constriction in his throat.

  “Sandburg, talk to me! What’s wrong?”

  Blair squeezed his eyes shut, trying to slow his fast beating heart, to force himself to continue forward, knowing he had no choice in the matter. As he hesitated, something brushed against his legs. His eyes snapped open and he looked down. The wolf sat a few feet in front of him, staring up. It was the first time he’d seen the beast today. Blair was struck immediately by the change that had come over the animal--it appeared stronger, healthier. It was obviously far from a full recovery, but a brightness shone from the eyes that had not been present in previous sightings and the lean body seemed more erect, stronger.

  Blair and the wolf stared at one another for a long moment. The animal’s gaze was curious, thoughtful...worried. Blair pulled his gaze up to the other side of the ravine. There, waiting for them, sat the panther.

  “Sandburg--”

  “I’m okay, Jim," Blair assured his friend. "Just needed a minute to get my equilibrium back.” The wolf trotted quickly, easily to the other side of the bridge as if showing Blair exactly how simple it truly was. “I can do this,” Blair muttered, starting forward again. Slowly, Jim moving along behind him, he navigated the remainder of the bridge.

  As they stepped back onto solid ground, Blair exhaled a breath of relief. He moved away from the edge of the ravine and sat down wearily, pulling Jim down alongside him. “I don’t ever want to do that again, man.”

  Jim patted his shoulder. “You did great, Chief.”

  “Yeah, but I still don’t ever want to do it again.” He looked over at Jim. “So? Can you see me now?”

  Jim shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Blair reached over and squeezed his arm. “Don't worry, man. It’ll come back.” He glanced around them. “For now, let’s just see how much farther we can go today. It’s starting to get dark and I want to find us a good place for the night. Plus, I still need to catch us some dinner.”