Doublesight

by Terry Persun

  “Perhaps you believe that now, but remember that if it were up to them the doublesight would be no more.” Brok pulled away. “Think about that,” he said.

  “Would you have us kill every human?” Lankor said.

  “Every human that threatened the doublesight,” Brok said.

  “Not that I have seen it for myself,” Lankor said, “but my father told me that even though the doublesight look strong in a compound like the council grounds, they are few. You should know that. You lived in Brendern Forest. We could not win an all-out war against the humans. Many of the doublesight would not even fight. Their religion forbids it unless they are attacked as we were this morning.”

  “Is that how your clan believes?” Brok said.

  Lankor thought about the question. “My clan or me? I struggle with that question. I believe in life, yet I could see that I would kill until I was killed if my clan were at risk. When I am angry, there may be little room between the two beliefs. Other times, there is a chasm between them.”

  “This journey will help you to settle that confusion, my man. This journey will have you thinking about your own life and death as well as the life and death of our small group, your own clan, and the doublesight. I suggest you start to figure where your loyalties lie so that when the time comes, you can act with clarity of purpose.” Brok patted Lankor's back as though he were a close friend.

  Lankor felt the touch of someone wishing to manipulate his belief system.

  Raik held the reins of the horses. They were saddled and ready.

  Lankor wondered how he had prepared them so quickly, but dismissed the thought. A trained warrior could do many miraculous things, he was beginning to notice.

  Back on the trail, the four of them attempted, once again, to talk as though they had known one another for years. Without actually having that contact, the conversation was punctuated with questions. Lankor felt uncomfortable with the whole exchange. It seemed forced. Yet he would use the time to truly learn about the many doublesight he had never met in his life. Riding next to Zimp, he said, “I am sorry that we didn't get to begin the day with a prayer.” When she didn't respond quickly, he added, “Isn't that your clan's way? Are they not very religious?”

  “Religion is a slippery word,” she said. “People fight to uphold religion. People feel that religion is right or wrong. We prefer to say sacred. To the crow clan, the land is sacred, the sky sacred, the water. To us, all things should be shared. Nothing belongs to one human, animal, or doublesight.”

  “You slit the throat of that bandit back there.”

  “He attacked us. If they had come in peace, we would have bargained or bartered, but I never would have killed. That is the difference between being a thief and a bandit in this land.” She looked directly into his eyes, an intense stare, forceful and strong, touching and emotional. “To us, we are not thieves, but are taking what should be shared anyway. What we do helps the economy of the places we leave. No one understands that but us. As we ride away the vendors and artisans are visited once again. Money is exchanged. Mouths are fed.”

  “That sounds less like fact and more like rationalization,” Lankor said.

  “Believe what you will.” She turned forward and said, “I noticed you didn't kill.”

  “There was no need. The threat was minimal when it began. Like you, I would have killed had it been necessary.” He paused, shifting in the saddle as the horses began a decline. “The others had little problem. Brok said that he might have killed them all.”

  “Brok is angry. I don't blame him for that. Raik is a trained warrior. I expect him to kill.” She turned her head, looking shy and vulnerable. There was a long hesitation. “We two are the more respectful of life, the balance. I only hope we can hold them back when the time comes. I wouldn't want to enter a battle we were not sent to enter.”

  “Is that possible with these two?” Lankor said. “They appear to listen to your orders so far.”

  “I don't feel as though they listen at all, but that they do what I say because that is what they might do on their own. Or that what I suggest doesn't matter to them. They have no feeling about it.” She turned completely around in her saddle. “Even now, Raik has fallen back out of sight. Only Brok and Therin are behind us. You see, no one told him to become a rear guard. Perhaps he is separating from my authority this soon in our travels. I fear that a quick oath might not be enough when real danger sets in, when strategy needs to be set.”

  “We will see.”

  “And you?” she said. “Will you obey my orders? Will you take my lead?”

  Lankor felt his chest tighten and his throat close. He did not speak right away.

  “Exactly,” she said.

  “I was thinking,” he said.

  “You should not have to think about your allegiance to the cause, to our purpose.”

  “I don't,” he said.

  “Then your objection is to my ability to lead,” Zimp said.

  Lankor drew his horse around to go back with Brok. “I was just thinking,” he said. Zimp said something, but he didn't hear the words clearly.

  Lankor drew up next to Brok. “Did Raik decide to hunt for our supper?”

  Brok's wide mouth snapped into a smile. “He said he wanted to be sure we weren't followed.”

  “Those two? One had a headache that would take days to clear and the other had a broken arm.” Lankor struggled with his horse, which didn't want to ride so close to Brok's horse.

  “Trouble?” Brok said.

  “I'm getting used to it. Just sometimes these things don't listen.”

  Brok smirked. “Be a little easier on his mouth and he might relinquish to your guidance.”

  “Sounds like her,” Lankor said, lifting his chin toward Zimp.

  “She's quite a woman,” Brok said.

  “Do you have feelings—”

  “No,” Brok snapped.

  “I'm beginning to understand why you might want her to see your skills.”

  “You know nothing,” Brok said.

  From behind, Raik trotted his horse next to Lankor and Brok.

  Lankor gave him a questioning look.

  “Taking care of a few things,” Raik said.

  “I thought you were just making sure we weren't followed,” Brok said.

  Raik glanced at Brok. “We're not now.”

  27

  THE SMALL BAND OF DOUBLESIGHT rode down the mountain, through the hollow, and north along the western edge of Brendern Forest. They were now in Weilk and had passed the turnoff that drove due west toward Weilk Post Stronghold. This meant that they already traveled along Torturous Road. It was obvious that many paths paralleled the road in mock recognition of the number of bandits and thieves and crazed killers who roamed the area.

  They rode along a side hill, beyond a parallel path, and deep into the forest where they were to spend the night. It appeared to be an untraveled and safe place. Was that even possible?

  Zimp glanced around as though sizing up everyone's energy. “Raik, could you take first watch and Brok second? I'll take third and Lankor can do morning watch again.”

  Raik knew that Zimp could sense the strength of his snake image. She could see the image if she paused and focused for a moment, but that wasn't necessary. She continued to pace the length and breadth of the camp as though she were unsure of her decision.

  “Could I ch-change with Brok this evening?” Raik turned to Brok, “If that's f-fine with you?”

  Brok dropped his pack from his horse and dragged it near the trunk of an oak. He shrugged his shoulders. “I could do that.” He pulled his bedroll out. “What's the pattern of the bandits out here? When might they attack?”

  “Not at all if we are far enough from them,” Zimp said. “Not everyone gets attacked who sets foot on the road.”

  “You think a mile or so from the road is enough to deter b-bandits?” Raik said. He felt Zimp's anger rise at his words, but stood his ground long enough for everyone
to have the chance to notice his strength and confidence.

  “I didn't ask for this job,” Zimp said. “If you have a better idea, I'd like to hear it.”

  Brok stepped between them and said, “I say we hunt a few bandits down and take over their camp. That wouldn't be expected. And, the fewer bandits we have to worry about the better. They're only human and would probably hunt us down if they knew we were here.”

  Raik pondered Brok's aggression and Zimp's reluctance for a moment, and almost reconsidered his own plans for the evening.

  “What do you think, Raik?” Lankor stretched out on his blanket. Therin stood beside Lankor. The big man didn't look the least bit concerned about how close the thylacine stood. “Well? You're the warrior. Maybe we should consider what you think, especially in this territory.” He nodded toward Zimp. “What do you think? We're headed into a rough town around the castle. He might be able to give us warning, at least. Make us aware of what we might expect.”

  “I wouldn't know,” Raik said. He felt sorry he had brought it up. He meant only to undercut Zimp's already weak authority, play her reluctance to lead against her. He was on the spot.

  Lankor stared at him.

  “Are you looking into my beast image?” Raik said. “Isn't that considered rude where you come from?”

  “You appear to be edgy tonight,” Lankor said. “Your image is weaving and unsteady. What's bothering you?”

  “I, too, sense an agitation,” Zimp said.

  Raik walked away from them. He knew that exposing his images would create conflict with the others. He was different. He hated that, and he felt that they mistrusted him. He'd show them. Even Lankor, whom Raik liked, was pressuring him about his images, about his natural movement. Had the dragon man never seen a snake before, a copperhead slipping through the grasses of The Lost?

  Raik positioned himself behind his horse and made like he was caring for it. The wind through the trees clacked leaves against one another and whooshed along the ground. He didn't feel safe with the doublesight, but didn't believe they noticed until now. Why would he question her and bring attention to himself? The snake weaved before a strike. He knew that, but they obviously didn't.

  A tightness built in him just outside the edges of his human body. Raik sensed the pull toward beast image like the gnaw of hunger against an empty stomach. For a moment he heard another voice in his head, but no words were said. The voice had a feel to it, the feel of his mouse image poking a sharp stick at his snake image. A sharp familiar feeling he never tried to explain, even to himself. He wished Bennek were there with him. His brother's words were calming and would take his mind from the hunger to shift images.

  “You need help?” Lankor had crept up on him.

  Raik jumped back and the horse stepped away as if afraid of the movement. “D-do I look confused to you?”

  Lankor leaned back. “Not confused at all. Are you?”

  “I need to be alone. You wo-wouldn't understand.”

  “Look, my little friend, we all understand.” Lankor placed a hand at the horse's withers, and it calmed under his touch. “Care must be taken when and where we shift. This is not easy for any of us.”

  Raik, in a moment of focus, blurted out, “I have a double need. My copperhead hisses and hisses in my ears. It wants out.” He looked at Lankor and saw that the man had no understanding of what Raik had just confided. “I wish one of them would d-die,” he said.

  “What can we do to help?”

  “Leave me alone,” Raik said.

  Lankor turned and left. He stood near Zimp to talk with her. Raik could not hear what they said, but knew that they plotted against him. He had said too much.

  Brok had spent some time laying out a variety of foods they had brought with them. There would be no fire this night. That was the good and the bad of it.

  Raik took a deep breath and asked his mind to quiet. He often had to do that. He thought of his family, his boys. He knew that either Zip would kill Ka or Ka would slit Zip's throat in the night. That some day their beast images would overcome them, as his beast images were taking over his life. Bennek thought differently, but Raik knew the strain personally. The mouse would do anything to have the snake gone from its habitat and the snake would merely feed off the mouse and never think about it again.

  “I'll take your watch,” Lankor said. Again, he stood behind Raik.

  Raik nodded. “Perhaps you're right. I am in n-no condition. But a warrior does n-not let his comrades down.”

  “We'll each take an extra few minutes. It'll be easy. We should be there for one another.” Lankor reached for Raik's shoulder and placed a heavy hand on it.

  Raik looked squarely into Lankor's eyes and nodded his approval. He followed his fellow traveler back to the circle of the camp and sat on the ground with his legs crossed. His mind hissed and raced and twisted. He could feel his own snake image, the aura of it, swaying. “Brull believes that I was the only mouse remaining in the doublesight. That is, until Ka was b-born.”

  “Dragons were believed gone, too,” Lankor said.

  “Something is going wrong with the doublesight, I fear.” Raik picked at the moss in front of him. “We are on some sort of road to destruction. Either we will kill each other or we'll kill ourselves.”

  “Don't say that,” Zimp snapped as though she believed Raik but didn't want to hear it said aloud.

  Brok stood and they all looked at him. “I'm going to take some food and begin my watch early. Therin will go with me.”

  “Agreed,” Zimp said.

  “He knows. His b-beast image knows this is a dangerous place. It s-senses something,” Raik said.

  “Predator and prey doublesight live together in harmony. That's why we don't kill when we are in beast image. We play. We explore our animal side. We have fun with it,” Zimp said.

  “And that's how the humans, the singlesight humans, know which beasts are truly animal singlesight and which are doublesight. That is how they track the doublesight down and kill them.” Raik paused. He noticed that he did not stutter through his last statement. He had no hesitation about what he said. “That is how it is done now that many of the predator doublesight have already killed off many of the prey doublesight. B-but things are changing. Prey doublesight are returning. Like me. And the doublesight that was wiped out, like Lankor's dragon image, is returning.” Raik took a deep breath. The talk had quieted the voices in his head for a while. “What other horrible images have already returned? What might we truly run into? D-Demons? You don't understand as I do that we need to be willing to kill our own as we would our enemy, just as we must be willing to kill the humans who appear to be our only enemy. We may need to have the strength to k-kill ourselves for the betterment of the whole of doublesight.”

  “Don't say that,” Zimp said.

  “It is true,” Raik said, sensing the depths of that truth like he felt none of the others would ever be able to feel.

  “The doublesight have a right to live, too.” Zimp scooped up a large piece of bread and pecked at it, nibbling the edge.

  “All life may have a r-right to live, but at what expense to other l-life forms? We destroy trees and g-grasslands to build castles and villages,” Raik said.

  “That's different. Plants don't speak and move as we do.” Zimp appeared to notice the mistake in her thinking almost as soon as she said the words.

  Raik leaned toward her and said, “I can see that you are beginning to understand. What of the b-birds, small animals, insects that are destroyed for those villages?” Raik lifted his head high. “Even people die to build the greatest castles. Like Castle Weilk.”

  “The great land is large,” Zimp said.

  Lankor scuffled to a sitting position and crossed his legs. He reached for a slice of dried meat and held it up. “We already kill animals to survive.” He bit into the meat and ripped off a piece. “Buffalo,” he said. “There are no longer any buffalo doublesight. Does that make it okay?”

&n
bsp; “What do you want me to say?” Zimp said.

  “J-just see our point,” Raik said. “The great wars may have ended, but smaller wars have continued. We of this w-world kill one another. That is what we d-do. Perhaps there is no stopping us. With the doublesight spawning throwbacks, I fear things will only get worse.”

  “You sound as though you're on the side of the humans. Would you see all of doublesight go down?”

  “I d-don't always know the answer to that. I see both sides. You m-must remember, my dear leader, that my family was already mixed between doublesight and h-human. I grew up knowing both sides of the argument,” Raik said.

  Zimp pushed into a standing position. Raik felt small below her. Crows were known to kill snakes. He felt the predator in her as well as in himself.

  “You'd better select your side,” she said. Zimp turned and took a few long and bouncy strides into the woods, in the direction of where Brok had gone.

  “I see your point,” Lankor said once she was gone from earshot.

  “I thought you might, being raised in The Lost. It is wild there. You can't escape the killing or you could be killed.” Raik let his head lean back so a breeze could cool his face.

  Lankor's voice came through the sound of the breeze, a low and firm sound. “But I want our clan to live. Do you see the difference? I don't mind letting others live, the sacredness of life and all that belief that comes from my family. But, more than that, I want dragons to live. It is not possible for us to live without meat, without killing, but we don't have to wipe out another race entirely. Where is the sense in driving the doublesight into extinction?”

  “I am a danger to m-myself. My children are a danger to each other. If you came upon me too quickly while I was in s-snake image, I could k-kill you with one strike.” Raik waited for a response.

  Lankor laughed. “You could slit my throat while I sleep, while in human image. We all have our personality, our nature. These bandits kill their own kind just to steal trinkets to buy other trinkets. What is the thinking in that killing? Is the killing of a species you fear any better reason than to kill for money or jewels? Or food and shelter? Or protection?”