by Terry Persun
Lankor and the others knew exactly what Brok meant. Therin might be slipping away, farther and farther into a beast singlesight. The thought of it reminded Lankor of his uncle, always to be a dragon, dropping slowly from the knowledge of being human. Eventually, his uncle would be banished outside the clan to live alone where he would not be dangerous. He would be chained. Dellin would have already lost knowledge of the doublesight and of the sacrifice he had made for them. Lankor felt a deep thickness in his chest, a pain he could not explain.
As the soldiers approached the castle in the distance, Zimp spoke to Raik. “You are lucky I had you shift only once. They saw no threat in you. But as you warned, they know of our arrival. If another group does not arrive today, we'll be watched closely.”
“We'll be watched anyway,” Raik said, pointing at Therin.
“And he'll watch you,” Brok said. “This cord could be chewed through in a moment.”
Raik said nothing. He shrunk into his saddle. “You can't keep me like this forever.”
“Let's get inside,” Zimp said. “It'll be easy to hide among all these people.” She motioned for Brok to lead. “You've got to take over.”
Brok mounted and advanced to the front. He wrapped the cord that held Therin in tow loosely around his wrist. The others fell in behind him. It took several hours of edging into the throng of people to make their way into the compound. Some vendors stopped at the gates and set up their carts, offering breakfast to the late arrivals.
Inside the walls, vendors set up their wares. It was market day, Lankor surmised. There would be no other reason for so many vendors to be there at once. The four of them dismounted and walked.
The noise was festive. Musicians played their instruments in various corners of the open central area. The stronghold appeared larger from the inside than the outside, with streets spoking from the central area toward a far off wall and another entrance gate. Castle Weilk looked to be a good distance away.
Brok led them deep into the grounds. He asked directions from several people who appeared to live inside the stronghold area. They'd point and Brok would lead the others closer toward the castle.
Lankor smelled the stable before they arrived. A blacksmith worked a pit of fire. As they stepped around a corner, the ringing of metal on metal pierced the air. A bargain was struck quickly and the blacksmith ushered out several young boys to lead the horses into stalls and to unsaddle them.
“We'll take our saddlebags with us,” Brok said.
The heavy-set blacksmith pointed his hammer at Therin. “If you're leaving him, I have a cage in the back.”
Therin whined and rubbed against Brok's leg. He understood those words.
“He'll stay with us for now. Everyone grab what's important and we'll find a place to stay for a few days.”
One of the boys reached out to touch Therin. He growled and the boy yanked his hand back.
The blacksmith smashed his hammer onto a strip of steel and shook his head. “We don't like strange beasts here. If that thing ain't safe, you'll find it dead.”
“He's safe,” Brok said. “He just doesn't trust people. They're always threatening to kill him.”
The man glared back at Brok. “Still, we'll want him in that cage tonight. And if by morning we find a man,” he poked the hammer toward Brok, “like you, we'll keep ‘im in that cage.”
Brok nodded and swung around to leave, pulling Therin with him.
“What did that mean?” Lankor said.
“They are expecting doublesight,” Zimp said. “I thought you said they only knew we were coming.”
Raik said, “They heard nothing from me.”
They dropped the conversation and mingled with the crowd for a while. Zimp leaned close to Lankor and spoke quietly into his ear. “These people appear to be tense about something. Even the children aren't running and screaming like I would expect.”
33
STORRET PERCHED WITH HIS LEGS HANGING over a high branch of a sugar pine, his back leaned safely against its trunk. The sun had already crested the eastern mountains, spitting sparks of orange along the treetops and into the lightly clouded sky. Feelings of frustration and pain, anger and joy, battered him in shifts. Just as he began to understand one emotion another shoved it aside and occupied his body. He had been noticed as an honorable clan member and talented warrior and leader. Why did it happen just when he met Breel, and why did Oro need to die for him to fulfill such an honor? And even though he felt that he was worthy of honor, what could he, as commander, possibly teach anyone? How much time was there to get ready? The singlesight humans had already attacked them once. Oronice had obviously sped up her journey to the next realm. The only thing he could think of that would encourage her to do that was that Zimp must be in grave danger, or was already dead.
The treetop cradled Storret as though it held a baby. He had spent much of his life in treetops overlooking The Great Land. As morning opened to another day, he allowed the brightness of the sun to cheer him on, to open his heart to whatever this world had for him. Another day. Another mystery as to what might happen. Each day could be an adventure if only one allowed it to be.
He would not make a plan for this day. When he arrived before his troops he'd look them over and decide on the spot what to pursue. He'd ask for their help to get them engaged. He'd praise each and every one of them, no matter what beast image they held. Each had his or her purpose, and that purpose would be met in a war of any kind.
A war. Had he really thought that correctly?
Doublesight were supposed to hold both beast and human life sacred. Why would they go to war? Legends foretold of great wars and how the Six Shapeless Gods disapproved and punished the beings that lived at that time by separating the humans from the beasts forever. So few doublesight were left on The Great Land after that. They were to be the reminder of what once was. Blessed were the doublesight. He laughed, mocking the idea that their lives had been blessed. In the last few decades, fear of the unknown had caused many humans to separate from their doublesight brothers. A few lords of the land acknowledged the doublesight and elected to accept them, but the singlesight humans, individually, could not be convinced. And laws were only obeyed in daylight and under watch.
As a reminder of just how blessed he did not feel, his crow image pulled at him to shift. As he leaned over to look down the trunk of the pine, his hand slipped from the branch he had been holding. His other hand flew up to grab a nearby branch to steady him. The fear of falling had come too quickly. His crow image got its way. The shift began before he could refocus. His body shriveled and folded into itself. He worked to keep his balance by shifting focus to his feet. Claws grew and gripped. Arms shrunk into black wings.
The change complete, Storret let loose his firm hold on his human thinking. It was there, but the urges of the crow were there also, competing for time, thought, life. This was the dilemma of the doublesight: wishing to be beast while human and wishing to be human while beast. Each person had his or her own struggles with sanity in this way.
Storret stepped into the wind and flapped his wings. He flew up and around the treetops once, then plummeted toward the forest floor. The quickness of the shift left him a little foggy in his thinking. His crow image held strong. Under that strength, though, was the human Storret. Always human first, Storret worked his way back into a semblance of control over the crow image. Instead of landing in a tree or cawing out a warning when he glimpsed the humans, he hit the ground behind a stand of scrub. He shook his head and ruffled his feathers. He focused on how he might organize his troops. He was back, full strength. It had taken longer than he would have liked and he reminded himself of the dangers of shifting too quickly.
Storret shifted smoothly back into his human self. Straightening his clothes as he stepped from behind the bushes, he greeted several of the men he would soon lead.
“Sir,” one of them said, surprised to see Storret. The man held out his hand. “Floom,” he said.
Storret gripped the man's hand, a totally human gesture. What image was behind that handshake?
Two more hands reached for Storret's.
Floom stepped aside. “My friends Sloat and Woss.”
Storret shook hands with them as well. Strong, firm grips. Aggressive handshakes. They were predators of some kind.
“There are others in the clearing over here,” Floom said, leading the way.
Storret recognized many from his own clan and smiled. Several nodded their heads in approval, making Storret feel better about the day. A wide variety of people were packed into the clearing, stretching into the woods as well. How many there were he could not tell. They talked among themselves in lowered voices, but the abundance of sound pierced the air.
Storret felt that he could tell one clan from another just by their human features. Tall or short, broad shouldered, curly hair reminded him of Breel and Brok. Thylacines? Were there also other predators? Wolves, hawks?
As he looked them over, his thoughts turned to Oronice. Although he trusted her judgment, he did not wish for her to die. There was much that she didn't say in front of anyone, and much that The Few held back as well. But Storret had heard enough concern in all their voices to know that the small army they were putting together would have to fight and that additional recruiting had already begun.
Judging from Oro's quickened departure, he suspected the rush involved Zimp and the small band of doublesight sent out to Castle Weilk. He raised his arms into the air and the crowd quieted.
“This is not the ideal training ground, but I assume many of you have already trained in some form of battle.” A loud cheer went up and Storret saw staffs, swords, knives, and a few longbows lift into the air above the heads of those before him. “This is not what we are taught as doublesight,” he said. Then he stopped. “But it is also true that we wished to survive.” He could sense the shift in the emotion of those before him and thought that it was the most passive man who, when angered, puts up the most vicious fight. This, then, would be a bloody battle to the death. Numbers would not matter in the face of extinction.
The more he looked around, the smaller the clearing appeared and the fewer doublesight stood around him. “Eventually,” he started, “and I know this may be difficult, but we'll need to know one another's beast image. If we are in battle and our brother should shift we don't want to be shocked into shifting as well. Remember, a fast shift makes you vulnerable to remaining in beast image longer and possibly forever, while a slow shift makes you vulnerable to immediate attack. Death, if you are in battle at the time.”
Floom stepped out of the crowd and raised a hand. “Some of us practice fast shifts and have found a stability point.”
Nodding approval, Storret smiled and rubbed his chin with his hand. “Perhaps you can teach us such a skill, my friend.”
Floom almost leapt into the air. The lightness in his being tugged at Storret and he guessed a bird of some kind, a raptor. Wow, shouldn't a raptor be leading them into battle? No, he wouldn't question Ornice's decision. He would hold to his duty and post until otherwise removed.
“For this first hour we shall get to know one another. We are many, but not so many that we cannot learn who will fight beside us. Floom,” he said, “you will walk with me and help to collect information. Before we shift, any of us, we acknowledge our beast image. I want to know what skills you have, how quickly you can shift and remain in human consciousness. Tell one another your names and your likes and dislikes. How difficult will it be for you to harm a singlesight? How much of an honor do you feel being selected to fight? While in battle, we must know the person next to us so that we are impelled to save their life as if it were our own. I want to know if you see yourself as courageous or cowardly.” He lowered his head. Where did all that come from? How would he learn so much about them? He motioned to Floom to stand by him. “Begin,” he said to the others.
Floom waltzed over to Storret, pride in his step. “Sir.”
“A raptor, yes?” Storret said.
“Hawks. All three of us. In fact, there are probably twenty in all here.” Floom lowered his eyes. “We know that you're a crow. Your whole clan. It's difficult to hide.” A blush came to his face. “I'm honored to stand with you.”
“Truly?” Storret said without thinking.
“Crows live in both worlds. They have no fear. I've seen crows attack all types of beasts. They never give up. And they are cunning and quick.” Floom shook his head in amazement.
Storret had never seen himself in such a way, but listening to Floom reminded him of the truth. “Thank you. Now, let's see what we have to work with.”
The two of them weaved in and out of the small army asking questions and discussing personal issues. At first it felt odd to be doing so, but Storret soon found himself growing more interested and closer to his men, and women. Many of the clans provided women warriors. Fox doublesight were equally matched, male and female. And there were rat doublesight, about fifty of them, a few eagle doublesight, and copperheads. Storret hadn't known before, but Raik must have been a copperhead, because his brother Galwit claimed to be one. Bennek stood next to Galwit and proudly announced that he was a singlesight human. “A snake charmer,” he added.
Skill sets varied as well. They all claimed to be swordsmen, but some offered other talents such as archery and knife throwing. Hand-to-hand combat was the specialty of the fox doublesight, who were magical in their movements.
About mid-morning, a messenger worked his way through the crowd to alert Storret that Rend had requested his presence at Oro's wagon.
“I've got to go,” he said to Floom. “Continue on.”
Storret ran through the woods, a more direct route than any of the winding paths.
Rend had apparently heard him coming. The big man motioned for Storret to join them.
Noot, the High Sage, looked frightened, unsure, and confused. He would find his place quickly though. Storret had faith in that fact, even as he climbed inside the wagon and kneeled next to Oronice.
Oro's eyes opened into a slit. Her dry mouth wrinkled as she whispered. “You first,” she said. “I will contact you first.”
Confusion overwhelmed him. Why not contact Noot first?
Rend must have noticed. He leaned toward Storret and said, “She wants to have clear contact before she goes to Zimp. She fears that her granddaughter has not practiced enough, that she may become confused by what she hears.”
“How she hears,” Mianna corrected.
“How she hears,” Rend repeated. “And what she may see. Do you understand this?”
“I do,” Storret said. “But Noot?”
“He must remain a clear path for the other realm,” Rend said.
Oro sucked in a deep breath and her chest heaved into the air. They all became still and awaited her last breath.
Rend motioned for the others to exit the wagon. He followed last, leaving Storret and Oro alone.
As the rear flap closed and Storret heard the last of the rustling outside as Rend and the others moved away, Oro eased out a long, slow aaahhhh, as though she were meditating. She created a sound passageway to the other realm.
He recalled at age six when his older brother taught him the first passageway. And now Oronice The Gem used it for her last shift, a realm shift.
Storret enjoyed the memory for a moment. He would miss holding Oro's hand and dancing with her during ceremonies. He'd miss her scarred and scratchy voice, her wisdom. But there was something exciting about the new sense of her he was about to gain. He had had only a fleeting moment of such contact when his parents died, several days when his brother did his realm shift after a long illness. The more conscious the shift, the more available would be the inter-realm contact. That was unless you were lucky enough to have a twin. He wondered briefly why Zimp rejected the possibilities of what she was able to do?
Oronice's voice trailed off. Her chest sunk into the mattress.
S
torret's eyes welled up. Was he unable to make contact? Did he need to concentrate in a special way that he had forgotten? He panicked. His daydreams of being younger had interfered with his focus. He had allowed Oronice to realm shift without being there for her, without listening for her. He had failed his most important task.
“Quiet!” he heard Rend say from nearby. But Rend had stepped away, hadn't he?
Storret stopped thinking. He quieted his mind.
“Better,” he heard. Oronice had spoken.
Nothing he could have imagined could explain what happened next. If he had recalled his few days in contact with his brother, it would appear to be a sketchy, interrupted contact at best, for Oronice came through as though she sat with her lips next to his ear and her body touching his. In fact, Storret's entire body tingled as though he was being touched everywhere. His head felt an unusual pressure, and his ears shut down to all outside noise including the wind, the birds, the creak and snap of tree limbs as they scraped together, all of it stopped. He fell into a silence so complete that he questioned his own existence within it. Then he heard Oronice, a younger, more vibrant voice. He remembered the sound.
“Wait,” she said. “Hold on to…wait.”
There came the sound of someone taking a deep breath. He glanced at the dead body. Nothing moved. There was no other sound anywhere in existence. He could see in the physical world, but not hear. He only heard what went on in the other realm.
Her inhale stopped and again she exhaled, saying, “Ahhhh,” in the other realm.
He could hear the sound of her exhale, and toward the end of her last breath, Oro said, “Oh, I see.”
Storret waited.
“A birthing,” she said. “I'm being born.”
With her last comment, a loud flapping of wings came. He felt the air from the wild movement. He sensed a presence in the wagon with him, but was afraid to turn, to look around. He didn't want to lose contact. He didn't want to end that magnificent moment. He held his breath. The swipe of a wing touched his face. A clawed foot landed on his arm. Without moving, he used soft eyes to see Oronice, a young crow, perched on his arm. He was fully conscious of only the other realm. “Am I there with you?” he said.