by Terry Persun
“I think you are saying what I m-meant. We are killers. All of us. It will only get worse.”
“I like you, my little friend. But I disagree that we should accept that we kill each other only to wipe out our fear. Fear, as my father has taught me, is personal. You must accept your own fear and deal with it. Getting rid of the thing you fear does not end your feelings of fear. If you fear your own two images, you must deal with it.” Lankor bit off another piece of meat. “Kill only when you must and respect that which you kill.”
“You sound a lot like my brother,” Raik said.
“And that's a good thing?”
“Yes, very good. I'll admit that I don't always feel like I have control over my own thoughts and actions,” Raik said.
“I'll watch for that,” Lankor said.
They both laughed over the idea.
28
BROK SCANNED THE AREA for a glimpse of Therin, but only heard his brother's faint footfalls. He knew that few others, doublesight or not, would be able to sense Therin's presence at all. Thylacines were natural stalkers, quiet and deadly.
Alert to his surroundings, Brok took a few steps and caught the scent of one of Zimp's candles. The crow clan doublesight woman fell from the sky, landing lightly on her feet. He caught the unusual odor long before he heard her. Stooping behind a pine tree, Brok began to take shallow breaths. He waited. Zimp did not call out.
He wanted to shift into his thylacine image, get a stronger sense of her purpose. An ache shot through his body, and a hunger gripped his thoughts. He had to catch himself before the shift began. To do this, he looked at his hand, reached for his sword and, in one smooth motion, rounded the tree and drew his weapon. Zimp faced away from him. He touched the shoulder of her cloak with the tip of his sword. “I thought I had first watch?”
Zimp sighed and said, “I heard you only when it was too late to do anything about it.”
“That's the idea. What brings you out for a walk? Surely you weren't wishing a rendezvous with me?” he said. Brok lowered his weapon. He could see that she felt uneasy in his presence. “I'm not dangerous unless I choose to be,” he said.
“That makes me feel better,” she said, in an obvious attempt to lighten the conversation.
“You should. I have no interest in harming you.”
“I came for a reason,” she said.
“I don't trust either of the others, if that's what you want to know,” Brok said. “I believe I told you that before.”
She pulled a berry from a nearby bush and popped it into her mouth. “I think there is something wrong with Raik.”
“He does appear to be the more volatile.”
She cracked a smile. “Oh, you noticed.”
“He disappeared—‘fell back,’ is what he said—to be sure we weren't followed,” Brok said.
“By that old man and his son with the broken arm?”
“He didn't say. But when he returned I noticed a spot of blood on his horse's flank.” Brok didn't wait for her to say anything. A response wasn't necessary. “He killed them,” he said, knowing that Zimp was well aware where the conversation headed.
“Why would he do that?” Zimp said.
“They posed a threat,” Brok said.
“To us? I can't imagine,” Zimp said.
Brok shook his head. She had the distinct look of confusion on her face. The reason seemed obvious to him.
“What?” she said.
“They posed a threat to him. They know something about him.” Brok stepped closer to Zimp, knowing that it made her even more nervous. Had Therin been close by, Brok may have brought him into the mix just for sport. Yet there was something about her that intrigued him. He wanted her to like him, trust him, but fought those feelings.
“That doesn't make me feel any better.”
“I'm surprised he let me take his watch, that he allowed us all to stand watch for him. I expected him to protest,” Brok said.
“You were going to follow him, weren't you?”
“Now you're catching on,” Brok said. “I wanted to see how important it was to him. Maybe he took care of what he needed.”
Brok watched as Zimp paced in a small circle. He stepped toward her.
She stared at the ground as though she were reading the location of pine needles and leaves for an answer. She stopped and looked up at him. “He's a soldier. He'd see through your plan. He knows you're onto something and meant to side-step you.” She laughed quickly. “He'll rest.” She inadvertently reached for Brok's shoulder and he pulled back. “I'm sorry.”
He shook his head. “It's all right.” Then he reached out and took her hand. She didn't pull away as he had thought she might.
“We'll keep an eye on him. Don't let him fall back or separate from the group unless he clears it through me.” She lifted her chin. “Can you do that?”
“Of course.” He let go of her.
“Tell me something. Why didn't you kill those two yourself? It looked as though you wanted to.”
“I just want to kill those who killed my family. I found that I have nothing against the others.”
“Don't make it personal,” Zimp said.
“It is personal.”
“What of the doublesight?”
“That's personal on a larger scale, isn't it?” he said. “If I knew that they killed doublesight it might make a difference. If all they do is kill each other, why would I interfere?” He felt a great hand grip his chest as he breathed deeply. He gritted his teeth. “If I thought bandits were doublesight killers, then yes, I'd easily slaughter them all. You would too.”
“I might for the sake of the doublesight. But it wouldn't be personal.”
“I don't believe you,” Brok said. He watched her walk away. Her red cloak stuck to the underbrush and held back while she continued forward. He heard the snap of the garment as it released. A breeze blew in from the north and chilled him. It was not as cold as when they slept at the crest of the mountain, nor as open. He listened for Therin and heard a soft panting twenty feet away. Had his brother listened to the conversation? Was he still able to? Brok snapped his fingers and kneeled. He waited for Therin to rush through the forest and sit before him. Staring into Therin's eyes, Brok questioned everything he had been taught, everything he had grown up believing.
Saliva dripped from Therin's mouth. The odor of fresh game lingered on his breath.
Brok reached out and rubbed his brother's ear. “You have no choice but to kill and eat game, do you? How must that feel to you, when before we only shifted to experience something other than our human nature?” He bent his cheek next to his brother's. He did not speak the words, but wondered, When will that animal take over?
With a wave of his hand, Brok sent Therin back into the forest to do what he would: eat, play, sleep. Therin never appeared to be out of energy during the day, so he must sleep somewhere during the night. Ever since the trip began, Therin has wandered off more than he stayed around. The thylacine brother padded off, a low whine trailing into the distant woods.
Careful not to snap twigs as he paced the periphery of their camp, Brok focused on his duties. The party of five were thrown together quickly, he felt. They were ill-matched and under-prepared. Too small a group for anything but secretly collecting information, yet too large a group, too mixed in personalities, to get the job done easily. He wondered what might be The Few's true purpose in sending them away? The most logical answer he could think of was that they were decoys. And he didn't like that answer.
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.